The Publisher's Page BY HAROLD T. BECK

MAY 29 - JUNE 4, 1999

JUNE 4, 1999

Frustration

Good morning. It really doesn’t make any difference what time it is. I am not sure that I can even get this column posted on the server once it is done. My Internet Provider keeps denying me access when I try to enter to write this. One of those neat little official sounding messages keeps coming up when I try to get in. "NTML authentication failed (Code 2146893042)" Now what the devil is that supposed to mean?

So I call them on their toll free phone number that connects me to their headquarters in Warren. At this time, who is going to be up to take my call? You guessed it. One of their computers! Try talking to one of their computers at this hour. For that matter, try talking to anyone at this hour. It took my message and they promised to call me when they get to work at 9 A.M. That is hours from now.

Really, all I wanted to do was write a cute little story about my baby brother, Bob, who is 47 today. I have really been trying to be good - aside from the ten part series I started about the local media and how they purposely mis-report the news, bending it to suit themselves. I was going to talk about how I wanted Bob to play all the sports and do all the things I thought my brother should do. I kind of took that part of his rearing on myself.

Was I successful? Did he grow up and get a football scholarship to the University of Miami and become a first team All American?

You mean to say you don’t remember Bob Beck, starting Quarterback on the National Championship Miami Hurricanes of 1974?

Of course you don’t! He never went beyond midget football and instead of the High School Varsity, he had a band. Instead of being nicknamed The Flash, he was Buzzie.

Really, fortunately for me, I learned a lesson early in life and I learned it through my own brother. No matter how much you want something for someone, they have to want it too. How many times have you heard this? "If I only had the opportunities that you have had, I would have been able to really do something. I don’t understand why you would ignore them."

Of course you have heard it. Perhaps you have even said it. We all have and it is a sad commentary on us that we pass that gem on from generation to generation. Why do we do that?

We do it because we are frustrated with ourselves. We do it because we are not satisfied with what we have done with our lives. We do it because we are frustrated. We aren’t frustrated with our children. We are frustrated with ourselves and that, my friends, is a very sad commentary on us if that is the case.

We all imagine we are smarter than we are. We imagine we are more powerful than we really are, too. (Especially after a few beers!) Because we imagine all of that about ourselves - and believe it to the hilt, too - we are disappointed that other people have more than we do. Why has life treated us so unfairly?

I’ve always blamed it on the fact that I have red hair. No one likes red heads. Red heads are trouble makers and have bad tempers. Red heads have a stupid sense of humor. They think things are funny which in reality are really sick. If someone falls on the ice, red heads laugh uncontrollably to the point of almost wetting their pants. (If they would, that only confirms all the more, why people hate red heads.) Yes. It is all because of my red hair that I haven’t accomplished more in my life. People really do hate red heads - especially if they write the kind of things that I do. Oh well!

And there are a million more reasons why certain people are held back by life.

>I was born a black man. The world hates black men. Just because we play basketball better than white boys, everyone hates us. That’s why we aren’t millionaires like Donald Trump. Right! Tell that to Michael Jordan.

>I was born a lesbian. I can’t help it if I like women more than men. I am hated and discriminated against just because I am a lesbian. Right! (I have nothing to say beyond that. I agree with her.)

Anyway, back to the point, people have all these excuses because they are not happy with themselves. It has nothing to do with what happened to them. It has everything to do with what they didn’t do and now wish they had. If I only could go back in time. I would change so many things. Sure you would!

Actually, if we were given the chance to go back in time, few of us would change anything very significant. We made our decisions based on what we knew and believed at the time. The outcome, what we are today, is a sum total of all of those decisions and the result of the knowledge we acquired at the time. Beyond deciding not to pick your nose in public, for the most part, we would do exactly the same thing over and over and over.

Frustration makes absolutely no sense (unless you are trying to get access to the blasted server and you keep getting that stupid message!). The idea is to be satisfied with yourself. That is the key to happiness.

Until you are satisfied with yourself, you will never be satisfied or happy with anyone else.  Marriages fail because we look for something that we feel we lack in someone else. When you have one person doing that, you have the recipe for unhappiness. When you have two in the same house doing it, you have a sure fired disaster!

The opposite of Frustration is Satisfaction. We hear it all the time. Look at the bright side. We need to do exactly that. This article is being written because I went to my Corel Word Perfect program to write today, instead of writing on the server like I usually do. There was a way around it - some of you may be frustrated because you are used to your early morning dose of me and can't get it on demand. But that's your problem and you'll have to deal with it yourself.

Alas! I am in and now writing on the server. Happy Birthday, Baby Brother Bob. The column didn't turn out the way I thought it would when I started, but I am satisfied.   It's all I can do today and in accepting that, my frustration is now gone.

Comment on this at rdhedbud@penn.com.

JUNE 3, 1999

The loss of a good friend

On Friday night, sometime between seven and ten-thirty, many of us who frequent the Rainbow Inn lost a good friend.

He was an odd guy. The Rainbow Inn is known for its collection of odd guys. All of them are odd in their own ways. No two are the same - fortunately - because it would invariably cause conflict, and the last thing we need at The Rainbow is conflict.

When I first bought the bar, Roy Shuey was a regular. He was an old navy man. He was on a cruiser in World War II that was torpedoed and sank. He went fast. He was drinking with me one day. Went to the VA Hospital the next and came back and said he had cancer. He’d come up and drink with me as long as he felt good but that didn’t last very long. Between the chemotherapy and the radiation he failed pretty fast.

Just before he died his daughters brought him up for a quick one. The Gateser and I wheeled him in the back door and took him up the steps in the back. At the bar he forced down the shot of Imperial, but he handled the draft with the old time ease he always had. Two days later he was dead. On his final trip off the hill he passed the Rainbow. I put on the sign out front, "RIP Roy Shuey, a good friend." His daughters said that meant a whole lot to their mom. She passed away four years later.

There have been some rough years for the regulars at the Rainbow. There was Frank and his wife, Rosemary. They went only months apart. Both of them had the exact kind of cancer and seem to fail almost as fast as Roy. We lost old Larry Ely a few years ago. He got tired of living and just kind of gave up. He figured he’d lived long enough and had done everything he wanted to do. I guess that’s okay if you’ve made your mind up to that. But the people you leave behind do miss you and the things you say. I guess we all should think about that before we decide to give up.

There was old Pete, too. He was always doctoring at the VA in Erie. He was injured years ago in an oil field explosion and he had problems after that. In the end, Pete was having trouble with his circulation and the doctors thought they were helping him when they started taking pieces of him off every six months or so. I guess Pete got tired of being sawed on by the doctors and kind of gave up, too.

John, another friend of ours, died of cancer. He died long before his time and his eighty year old father was up last week to close up the camp and put it up for sale. We’re going to miss John. He always used to bring up his girl friend who brought rain with her. We had a bargain.  If we had any events going on that were outside and special, she would stay in Pittsburgh and make it rain there. John was allowed to come up by himself on those weekends. He used to hint that we have more of those kind of events. I don’t think John was tired of living. I think it was just one of those things that none of us understand.

Over the course of the years we have watched many of our friends pass on to the other side. Neil was one of them and then his wife, Evelyn followed. Old Red, a guy who made great moon shine was another. Quite a few people on the hill miss Red.

Betty was a cantankerous old woman who raised her family and her husband at the same time.  She was a philosopher of sorts. Once she told my wife: "The men on this hill have been trying to kill themselves for years. None of them are smart enough to succeed." She saw her grand children be born and have children of their own. Like Pete, the doctors tried taking her in pieces. Betty was too strong willed, mean actually, to let that get her down. She got herself an artificial leg that never really fit all that good and made it right up the steps into the bar at the Rainbow.

Like what happens to so many people, the doctors never really had her medication regulated properly. My dad used to accuse them of guessing and in Betty’s case, he was pretty close to the truth from what I’ve heard. In the end, between thinning her blood and then trying to thicken it, and in the meantime regulating her blood pressure up and then down and then back up again, Betty’s heart gave out. Ed, her husband, heard her get up and he heard her fall. Betty was dead when she hit the floor. She was always good for giving advice and a word or two. She is really missed. I could use her brand of common sense advise about now.

I guess I never sat down and thought about it. More friends have died than I realized. You don't keep a running tally until times like this. There was Danny Foster and RV. Terry Shirey died of a heart attack at 51. Earla Heasley died after a bout with cancer. I never thought too much about it until now. I’m getting older and that means everyone who is older than me is getting older, too. Of course they are going to die. We all are.

I look at my pets. Willie is 16. Clayton was 14 - we had to put him asleep, he had a tumor in his ear canal that was inoperative. He was in a lot of pain. And all the other animals are getting on, too. One by one they will go. Life will go on and when we go then it will be over.

I think that immortality is when someone who is still alive remembers you and every now and then speaks a kind word about you. Chaucer never made it across Route 59 last Friday. He was a funny little cat and a whole lot of people got attached to him. Larry, Pete, John, and Betty knew and liked him. Danny, Terry, and RV liked him, too. He begged food from RV. It would be nice to think that he has gone on and become the bar cat in the place where they are hanging out these days.

Did I mention that Chaucer was the bar cat? Well, he was, and he was a fair one at best. Still, he was an odd ball in his own special way and that made him special to the rest of the odd balls who frequent the place. And, he was ours.

He was born in the fall of 1992 just below and behind the tap system in the bar. His mother was a first generation descendent one of the kittens from a litter my boys brought up from Texas. Her name was Ugly because she was ugly. She may have been the ugliest cat we ever saw, but she was a baby machine. Every Tom Cat on the hill hung out around her. The fact she was ugly had nothing to do with anything.

We would have had her fixed but she turned wild on us and we could never get close enough to her to get her down the hill to the Vet. She was just that wild but tame enough to live in the basement and keep the place clear of mice and the such. We fed her for the service she provided.

Just like clock work Ugly would present us with litter after litter. I never had it in me to drown them. Instead I used to give the kittens away. More of her kittens and their offspring exist today than probably any other cat in the history of the hill.  It was a game with us.  Ugly would hide them and we would have to hunt for them  I know she told all the kittens to be especially leery of me.

Chaucer was a beautiful orange kitten that I snatched just by dumb luck. I brought him home much to the irritation of my other two cats. That was the winter of my double hernias and he spent a whole lot of time with me on the couch as I tried to deal with the pain. I swore I was not going to be operated on, but in the end I surrendered and had the operations.

Sharyn opened the door when I came home from the hospital. Chaucer took one look at me and left. He stayed gone all summer. Finally, as the cold winds began to come in from the north in the fall, Chaucer showed up at the Rainbow one Saturday night. I gave him a few pieces of Prime Rib and he decided to stay.

Anita adopted him. She had better left overs than I did and he wasn't going to tolerate that cat food I insisted he eat. With that he became  hers if he could belong to anyone. He loved her and she loved him. He just tolerated the rest of us; me especially, even though we had such a good beginning.

He went through the wars. He lost that lovely orange coat and became a raggedy looking thing. He was in a fight with something and darn near lost an ear. After that the ear would just flop over - I guess that’s where the term "flop eared cat" came from.

Chaucer liked my bar stool. I would forget to look from time to time and sit on him. He really didn’t seem to mind too much. He actually seemed to get a kick out of my surprise. His father, Harley, did the same thing and seemed to like it, too. Chaucer got a lot of Harley’s personality and would run away when I would threaten to take him to the Vet and get him fixed. Chaucer, like Harley, was an intelligent cat. He understood everything I said to him. Ironically, Harley didn’t make it across Route 59 one night, either. I guess the sins of the father were visited on the son. That’s a shame because both of them were good cats.

All of us will miss Chaucer even though he wasn’t the greatest mouser in the world. As long as he was fed, he didn’t even care all that much if the mice ate from his food bowl. He was a funny guy and he fit right in with the crowd.. Anita will miss him the most. He was a good friend. As long as she remembers him, he too will be immortal.

Comment at rdhedbud@penn.com.

JUNE 2, 1999

Back to the Hotel

I had put in a long day. You would have thought that I just might be tired.   For some strange reason I wasn't. Sharyn and Aunt Rose had gone to bed so when I had a chance to catch a ride to town, I took it.

A fine mist that bordered on drizzle was hanging over Bradford.  The Downbeat was just finishing up from its two for one spaghetti night, but for the most part, the town was quiet.  The light rain, or the threat of it, had driven the people from the streets.  The City Police Car circled Veterans' Square, started back down Main Street and then was gone when it turned right on Congress. We were the only other car on Main Street.

I was dropped off across the street from The Bradford Hotel and as the car pulled away, I crossed and entered.  Immediately I saw Dave Sheffer seated at the end of the bar. He was talking to Grant Nichols.  As I made my way down the bar they both acknowledged my presence. I nodded and said hello back to the two men.

"You're a real beauty," Sheffer said to me. "You really are. I just can't believe that you even have the nerve to show your face down here."

"Why?" I asked.

Dave looked at Grant and acted as if I should know what he was talking about. "Can you believe him?" he asked Grant. "Can you even believe him?"

Grant never got a chance to answer. I really wish he had. He was the reason I came to town. I hoped I would run into him.

"Just look at him!" Sheffer said. "I can't believe him. Can you?"

Once more, even if Grant would have wanted to answer, Sheffer's continuous dialogue kept him from doing so.

"How soon they all forget their friends. How soon they all go their merry ways and leave us peons behind in their dust.  How soon the mighty and the famous forget exactly where they came from and to whom they owe their fame. Oh how soon!" he said, almost lamenting that I had done him some grievous harm.  I finally got a word in edgewise.

"How much have you had today?" I asked him. "What is this all about? This sounds like the closing lines of Act Two in the second part of a tragic trilogy. Exactly what is your problem?"

"See," Dave said to Grant. "See how he acts as if he doesn't even know! Just look at him standing there acting innocent and all the while, he knows exactly what he has done.  Look at him."

Frustrated, I ordered a beer. "Give these two whatever they want, too," I said. In Sheffer's case, it was against my better judgement, but I wasn't going to slight him even if he was annoying as hell. I looked around the room to see who else was there, but aside from a young couple in the corner, the bar was empty. "Pretty dead tonight," I said. As I did, it started Sheffer once more.

"Go ahead and rub it in, why don't you!" he said to me. "Just take a knife and stab me through the heart. You really know how to hurt a guy.  You really do."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. "What is your problem?"

Dave calmed a bit. Instead of his incessant chatter that made absolutely no sense whatever to me, he finally got to the point, even if it was in a round about way.

"Where have you been?" he asked.

"On vacation," I answered. "Don't you read The Bradford Era?" I asked. "Didn't you read that ridiculous piece about me not being seen in Smethport since the election? You act as if I slighted you," I said, finally realizing that I was being taken down because of my extended absence from The Bradford Hotel. "You act as if it was you and you alone that I didn't come around to see. What's with you, anyway?" I demanded.

"Look at this place," he said to me. "Just look at it. What happened to the Glory Days when we had a regular writers colony here every night? Where are they now?   What happened?  What caused them to stop meeting here? Can you explain that to me?"

I knew what he was getting at. I could see it coming and I knew that I was going to be the focus of the onslaught, even though, in my mind, I was perfectly innocent. Still, Dave took his time to make the point to single me out as the root cause of the condition about which he was complaining.

"How long has it been since you were here?" he asked. "Do you remember the last time?"

I thought but so much had happened during the month of May, I really couldn't put a date to it. "Sometime before the election," I answered.

Sheffer exploded. "You're right!" he nearly screamed at me. "It was some time before the election," he said. "It was two Saturdays before the election, to be exact," he told me. "It was the time you brought those two Indians with you."

I remembered. It was the Saturday that Red Jacket bought the pickup from his insurance man. He was so proud of that hunk of junk. It never even lasted a week and Cornplanter kept telling him over and over again, he should have got his truck from Luke. Oh well. Live and learn as my father used to say.

"So?" I asked him.

"Look at this place. No one is here. You're no where to be found and everyone is reading about the two of them showing up at The Rainbow Inn.  Those two are celebrities. Everyone wants to meet them. Why don't you bring them back anymore? They are good for business."

"Dave," I said not believing what I was hearing. "They're dead. They've been dead for a hundred and seventy-five years. They aren't real."

"What's dead got to do with anything?" he asked. "Look at this town. Do you call this alive?"

Grant looked at Sheffer as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.  Really, I knew how he felt. I couldn't believe my ears, either.

"Dave," I said. "Get a grip."

"Get a grip, nothing," he said. "Those two Indians were the best thing that ever happened to this place. Even better than when all the writers were hanging out here, before you started all that business over The Power Women and I lost their business, too. Hell," he said. "When word got around, even Linda Devlin came in one night just to see if they were really here. She was talking to herself before the night was over. She was saying things like if she could get those two Indians away from you, there was some real potential for tourism there. She was saying that if she could get them working with her, she just might be able to get enough money to afford to pay herself this year. There was something else about Mike Glesk and the Bradford Area Alliance, but I couldn't make that out. It was interspersed with a few obscenities here and there. She wanted the Indians really bad."

"Dave," I said again. "They're dead.  They are a story line for me.   They aren't real. How can I make you understand?"

"What don't you understand?" he asked. "Do you call Chris Hauser alive? What about the mayor?  What about Fred Gallup? Look at all the store closings. Main Street is a ghost town. How many incubators can you have?  We need more dead people like Cornplanter and Red Jacket. At least they paid for their drinks. Linda Devlin gave me an IOU from some place called a National Forest Vacation Bureau. What the hell is that?   Then, to add insult to injury, she hit me up for $75 to join her tourism group, too. I only had $68 in the register and when I tried to pay for the other $7 with her IOU, she wouldn't take it. I had to borrow it from Grant."

"You gave her seventy-five dollars?" I asked. "Why in the world would you give her seventy-five dollars?" I asked.

"She acted like she really needed it. She mumbled something about not getting paid. She had on some expensive clothes and I felt sorry for her. I don't think they are paying her what they owe her. I like to help out if I can. You know me. I've always had a good public spirit."

Grant tried to add his five cents worth but Dave wouldn't stop about the Indians.

"You're hogging them all to yourself up at the Rainbow.  Sharyn won't let you bring them to town anymore. You're all too good for us down here now."

"That's not true," I said.

"Even The Power Women are hanging out in other bars now. Cheri O'Mara was at Louie's Lounge for the dart tournament on Friday night.  She doesn't come here anymore. It's your fault, too. She was a good customer.  She never gave me an IOU from the School District." Sheffer laughed. "As much as she makes, she didn't have to. She doesn't have any trouble paying for her bar tabs. She can just raise taxes if they get too much for her. I wish the hell I could do that!"

"So do I," Grant said. "What can I negotiate with? Your picture in The Bradford Journal.  Not as impressive as a chit from the School District or the local tourism agency. No. Not impressive at all when you are up against that competition."

"Hey guys," I said. "Get a grip. This isn't real."

Sheffer exploded. "Don't you tell me this isn't real. It's real for me and I know damn well that it is real enough for you otherwise you wouldn't stay up half the night writing all of this."

He did have a point, and two of the giants in local publishing were at his bar at that particular moment. And, if I couldn't produce Cornplanter and Red Jacket at that time, what more could he ask for?

Just then the door opened and in walked John Satterwhite.

Comment on this article at rdhedbud@penn.com.   

JUNE 1, 1999

Something I didn't think of.....

Good morning. It is 6:01 and it is 61.7 degrees out side. We had a pretty nice shower around three and everything is wet outside. Our gardens needed the rain.

Moore Opinions

I too did quite a bit of research in reference to the Hatch Act and Chief Cavallero. As a matter of fact I was given a copy of the same papers you are quoting from. Peggy gave them to me, the very same papers that were given to the ad hoc committee that later kicked the decision back to the council.

The words political and activity cannot be found on these papers but they do very specifically state that both chiefs are not covered under the civil service act. There never should have been a question about
that as a basis for a leave of absence. I do believe there is a basis but more because of a possible conflict of interest between the position held and the one he is running for.

Can a District Justice hold the gavel in a court room where the defendant was arrested during the Justice's tenure of Police Chief and be perceived to be fair and impartial? I think not.

The leave of absence is a good idea but for the wrong reason, to assume that he can merely defer to another District Justice is saying that the position he is seeking or the one he is deferring to is not needed. That might very well be the case and perhaps that should be looked into closely when the next census no doubt will indicate that the population decrease along with the drop in the crime rate merits the removal of one.

The situation of Chief Cavallero is very interesting especially because it was Connie herself that recommended that he step aside during the campaign. This decision however might just be landmark for future reference, one you alluded to whether or not it was intentional. A very serious question now needs to be answered.

Was Al Pingie a legal candidate?

It is obvious that according to Bradford's own "rules and regulations" that all active policemen and firemen are covered under the Hatch Act. And if the rumor I have heard about the Fire Chief calling
George on the carpet for his political activity is true, then any doubt I might have had is erased. Does this mean that we are to have another special election, this time with six candidates? Where do we go from here and who is responsible for the coin toss?

Bernie Moore TheCOOKER@rocketmail.com. Moore Opinions

and something else:

Now that Cornplanter and Red Jacket "have gone to look for America" in McKean County - will Belitskus have an opportunity to provide input to their questions about no-cutting when they pow wow?

I like the twist those Indian chiefs give to the articles.

Rumor has it that Kilmer is going to run a write in campaign for Hamlin Townnship supervisor - after saying he would not because "it would not be fair to those boys" - or do you think he would run a write in for commissioner to continue diluting votes?

Hope you and your family have a good Memorial Day.

Good questions. Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

MAY 31, 1999

Memorial Day

Out of respect for the veterans of our Military Services who have served their country and have passed on, we humbly honor them on this day for all they have given.   Whether it was the ultimate sacrifice of giving their lives in the heat of battle, or just doing their job in uniform, we recognize them. Take a few moments today and decorate their graves and remember them.  We are able to do that because they served.

MAY 30, 1999

ALL THE NEWS THAT'S FIT TO PRINT, or BRAINWASHING THE PEOPLE?

Publisher's Note: This is the first of a ten part series to appear each Sunday. It is an in depth look at the media in McKean County and an exploration of their reporting practices.  Do they tell the truth? Do they tell the whole story? Or, are they presenting a side of the news that they want the people to accept as fact?  We will explore the people reporting the news. What do you know about them?  How do the events in their lives affect or parallel the way they spin the news to us?

Part One.  Let's make Chris Hauser District Justice!

It was a harmless enough headline. U.S. 219 Association gears up new effort.   It didn't have the sensationalization of  Chief Cavallero collects full pay on medical leave; or,  Cavallero: Knee first injured in December. Yet, as harmless as it may seem,  the first is directly linked to the second and the third. Why? Because The Bradford Era and its staff has a personal stake in the election of Chris Hauser as District Justice.

U.S. Route 219 is brought out and dusted off every four years when there are local elections.  City Fireman, Al Pingie used it at the University of Pittsburgh forum in April as he ran for the Republican nomination for County Commissioner.  The Bradford Era was quick to report that Pingie linked a high speed super highway directly to the economic revitalization of McKean County. 

At the same time, The Bradford Era failed to note that I was quick to point out that three years ago when Bob Shuster was running for U.S. Congress, that was our single best opportunity to ever see 219 become the highway dreams have been made of for at least the last thirty years, if not longer. No, reporting the fact that the voters of McKean County overwhelmingly rejected son Bob's bid when his father, Bud Shuster, was in the position to give us exactly what we wanted and needed, was not on the agenda of The Era. That might have dampened the chances of candidate Pingie and added credibility to me.

The fact of the matter is that when my wife, Sharyn, graduated from Katheryn Gibbs Secretarial School in 1967, her very first job was with an advertising firm in Warren, PA who just happened to have a client known as  The Route 219 Association. And what do you suppose that association was all about? You guessed it! Complete a four lane U.S. Route 219! That was thirty-two years ago.

So, what is the significance of the headline now, thirty-two years later? Could it be that Chris and Hauser are the first two words of the second paragraph of the article? Is that the same Chris Hauser who is also running for District Justice against Chief Cavallero? Is that the same Chris Hauser who also is the reader of letters for the Other Voices column in The Era? If you answered yes on all the questions you were 100 percent correct on all parts.

Really, the article tells or shows us nothing new under the stars. Hauser is quoted as saying that the "revamped association" (much like a French Republic after World War One - I believe there were 58 of them) will take steps to hire a full time executive director. We have been hearing that since 1967 and before and I even believe that there may have even been several of those animals appear at different times.

There is really a good one liner in there from Hauser, too. "....we are going to be in the position to do something.....It's time to do or die."

That is really impressive, and, it would be if this article was not so transparent following a week of all out attacks on the Bradford City Chief of Police who is running opposite to Mr. Hauser on the Democratic ticket.  Really, it is very unlikely that Hauser or even the second coming will sway Congressman Shuster after the voters in many of the counties in which 219 runs rejected the candidacy of his son. Even the addition of the Bradford Area Alliance and their golden boy, Mike Glesk, will not take us that extra mile. The article is fluff and designed to promote Chris Hauser after they ran down Dick Cavallero.

So what is that?  Is it reporting news? Is Route 219 and a meeting that will take place next November news in May? Does it have anything to do with the fact that these three stories are following an election?

Much has been made out of the status of Chief Cavallero and his ability to run for office and draw pay at the same time. A reading of the CITY OF BRADFORD CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSION RULES AND REGULATIONS brings one startling fact into focus. Nowhere in the rules is the police chief precluded from working as Chief and running for office. In fact, The Chief of Police and the Fire Chief are not covered and are specifically excluded from the rules and regulations of the  Civil Service Commission.

Only Police Officers and Fire Fighters below the rank of Chief and Assistant Chief are regulated by the CITY OF BRADFORD CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSION, and, as a result, ultimately regulated by The Office of Special Council of the United States of American regarding State and Local Civil Service. (You may find specific information on the net at http://www.osc.gov. )

This site answers specific questions regarding the Hatch Act which has been the problem for Chief Cavallero. If anyone in local government or the local media would have taken the extra step to get even a few facts, they would have realized that the Chief never had to leave his job to run for District Justice. In fact,  the CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSION RULES AND REGULATIONS specifically state in Article X Section 1001 that:

"These Rules and Regulations shall apply to all personnel in the position of Police Officer or Firefighter or Police Supervisory position, but shall not apply to persons in the positions of Police chief or Fire Chief. In the event that a Chief of the Department has been promoted from within the Departments and has resigned his Civil Service Status to accept such appointment, is removed from his position for reasons other than personal misconduct, an opportunity will be given to him to return to the Civil Service rank last held."

THE CITY OF BRADFORD CIVIL SERVICE COMMISSION has no authority over Chief Cavallero,  He is not governed by the Hatch Act which prohibits Local Civil Service employees from participating in the following activities:

> be candidates for public office in a partisan election                    >use official authority or influence to interfere with or affect the results of an election or nomination                                                       >directly or indirectly coerce contributions from subordinates in support of a political party or candidate.

Chief Cavallero's candidacy was perfectly legal and he needed not use his own time to run for office. According to the rules of the Federal, State, and Local Governments, he was to be treated no differently than Chris Hauser, Jay Paul Kahle, or Anthony Doriguzzi. His job was no different than theirs.

However, why was it portrayed as being different by the media?  Was it because they had their own agenda and they were going to put it over on us however they felt they had to?  Were they successful? Is that why they are promoting Chris Hauser as the savior of Route 219?

If that is so, if Hauser is a savior and the paper wants to promote his as such, we need to examine if that is true or not.  I say that it is not.  I say that while Hauser is set on saving the economy by using 219 as a lever, he is a destroyer of children at the same time.

In his capacity as being part of the citizens advisory committee for funding for the United Way and its choice of projects, Chris Hauser has voted to phase out funding for Big Brothers/Big Sisters, a nationally acclaimed program aimed at prevent Juvenile Delinquency and helping children who come from single parent households. He has voted to deny this worthy program the $20,000 a year that it desperately needs to survive in the Bradford area, the same area in which he feels that he is the most qualified candidate to hold office.

Where is The Bradford Era when we need it?  Jim Buck was eager to report on the anticipated accomplishments of The Era's Candidate, where is he on this very valuable program that Hauser has doomed by failing to vote for its continued support?

Anne Sweeney Holliday was quick to report that the chief was collecting full pay on medical leave, why hasn't she looked into the United Way situation? Why hasn't she noted that when the United Way solicits support in area businesses, that it advertises it gives to Big Brothers/Big Sisters?

Is it just possible that City Editor, Pat Frantz Cercone, wife of Bradford Police Officer Dom Cercone, just may be a little biased against her husband's superior officer? Is that why we will only hear about the good things Mr. Hauser may do next November, not the underhanded and heartless things he does today?

What is the agenda of The Bradford Era? Do they give us all the news or only the news they want us to have? Is it the news that helps us, or is it the news that helps the people that have always been helped?

We think the answer to those and other questions are rather obvious. You draw your own conclusions.

Comment on this article at rdhedbud@penn.com.

MAY 29, 1999

The other side

It was Friday night at the Rainbow Inn.  I was alone at the bar when Chief Cornplanter and Red Jacket came in again.  Cornplanter had a big smile on his face. He was carrying a copy of the Publisher's Page from Thursday.

"This is good," he said. "This is really good. You captured the entire essence of our conversation the other night."

"I'm glad you liked it," I said. "I tried hard to tell the readers what happened. I hope I didn't misquote you," I said to Red Jacket.

Red Jacket nodded. "You did a good job," he said. "You told it exactly the way it happened."

"Good," I said. "I have something you will be interested in reading.   It tries to tell the other side. A side that was not printed in the paper."

"Oh?" Cornplanter asked.

"Yes," I said. I handed him the e-mail I had received that afternoon.   It carried the following title:

"FREEDOM - MEMORIAL DAY - RESPONSIBILITY OF THE PRESS - CITIZEN
PARTICIPATION - WILLAMETTE, CORPORATE CHARTER REVOCATION - ASBESTOS -
KILMER"

It began:

"Harold:

"I thought you might be interested in some additional information about the Willamette corporate charter revocation article that appeared in the Bradford Era and Warren Observer on Saturday, May 22, 1999.

RESPONSIBILITY OF THE PRESS:
The Bradford Era's headline was "ENVIRONMENTAL GROUPS TARGET WILLAMETTE."

The Warren Observer's headline was "ENVIRONMENTAL GROUPS ASK STATE TO REVOKE LICENSE FOR WILLAMETTE."

The headline should have read "citizen groups renewed their call for the PA Attorney General to initiate proceedings to revoke Willamette's corporate charter for violating the Clean Air Act and providing false information to illegally obtain permits." The EPA's NOTICE OF VIOLATION is 15 pages long. These are serious violations of the law. The air emissions are toxic and
the effects of chronic exposure to them causes permanent damage.

This is in fact the second request by PROACT for the PA Attorney General to take action. PROACT has been telling our PA State and Federal agencies and legislators that people are being harmed by the air emissions from the plant. No one from the President or Governor on down cared.

The Bradford Era chose to ignore investigating the story - no matter how much evidence and how many documents I sent its reporters. Two years ago, I called Marty Robacker Wilder, the editor of the Bradford Era and asked why she could not print an objective article about the toxic emissions at Willamette's Johnsonburg paper mill.

Ms. Robacker Wilder said two things to me. First, she asked me if I was trying to tell her how to run the newspaper? Second, she told me that when she drives through Johnsonburg in her car going to St. Mary's, she doesn't smell anything. When I suggested she stop at a local Johnsonburg resident's house and sit at her kitchen table for a cup of coffee, she declined the invitation. She had made her decision as to what the problems were. No amount of "objective evidence" was going to change her mind.

A recent editorial in the Forest City, NC, Daily Courier about Willamette's EPA / Clean Air Act Violations carried the headline "Good neighbors must be trustworthy." It stated: "If true, the EPA's findings show that Willamette was not only a bad neighbor to those who live near the facility, but an unfair competitor to others in the pulp industry who do abide by clean air laws. The EPA said that Willamette failed to install the costly but necessary air pollution control devices needed to make the plant safe and legal"

You, Harold are now quite familiar, as PROACT is, with how difficult it is to get any action from a Federal agency like the EPA to investigate the asbestos contamination at the Bradford High School. You are also quite familiar with how the Bradford Era determines with its "objective evidence" whether a story should be investigated. You were viciously attacked for exposing the asbestos contamination by the Bradford Era. However, years from now you won't be like the former mayor of Port Allegany who admitted in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette that he knew about the asbestos from the plant in town but did not want to tell anyone because "we needed the jobs." We can have a clean, safe environment and jobs."

"Who wrote this?" Cornplanter asked.

"Bill Belitskus," I answered. "He heads up PROACT."

"This puts everything in a different light," he said.

"How so?" I asked.

"This company isn't obeying the law. Maybe he has a point. I know he has a point about the reporting in the newspaper. Look at what they do to you all the time."

I had to agree with the chief. I knew better than most.  "But the paper feels justified in my case, " I said. "They feel justified because I dish it out so well."

"Isn't that what Wonderboy said over at the radio station when he attacked you on his impartial interview with you?" Red Jacket asked.

"Yes," I said.

"What else did he write?" Cornplanter asked.

I handed it to him.

CITIZEN PARTICIPATION:
    Joe Warner's letter to the editor in Thursdays Bradford Era stated "I have always had the greatest respect for The Bradford Era...That is why the tone of your articles concerning Harold Beck disturbs me so much. When your newspaper forgoes balanced reporting in favor of personal vendetta it does a disservice to the community you serve.

    Harold Beck has a big mouth, is confrontational, and angers a lot of people. I don't think it is any secret. However, because of his style of politics, the workings of county government are no secret either. He gets people involved and talking about the issues, and more public involvement benefits us all. I certainly prefer open discussion to the days when the county commissioners made most of their decisions in closed-door meetings and then announced the results.

    You don't have to like him, but the slant of your reporting is obvious to the most casual observer."

"Why did he include Joe Warner's letter?" Cornplanter asked.

Red Jacket interrupted. "The letter speaks for itself.  The newspaper is not telling the truth. This man, Joe Warner, is sticking up for Bud."

'I'm not ignorant. I can see that," Cornplanter said.  Then the chief read on.

FREEDOM - MEMORIAL DAY
My father was a disabled veteran from World War II. I enlisted in the Army for three years after graduating from high school in 1966 and volunteered to serve in Vietnam along with my older brothers Pat and George. Pat enlisted for four years in the Marine Corps after graduating from high school and served two tours in Vietnam. George was drafted into the Army
from college.

I was raised to stand up and speak out when I saw something wrong going on - no matter what the consequences. That is the America I know. That is what I expect from the Press and Citizens - otherwise we have no Democracy.

When I went off to Vietnam, no one called me an environmentalist. I am a sovereign citizen, living in a constitutional democracy and I expect to have a say in how my community is run and how our resources are used. The Bradford Era and Willamette have gone out of their way to label citizens who stand up in their communities and speak out as environmentalists. So be it. However I am not the one who violates the Clean Air Act, endangers people's health and safety and covers up stories that should be investigated or that slants and distorts reporting. Willamette and the Bradford Era will have to wear those labels.

At the March, 1999 Hamlin Township meeting, chairman supervisor Kilmer told me during the meeting "that if I did not like the way Hamlin Township and McKean County were run - that I should get out"

On this Memorial Day Mr. Kilmer, I want you, Willamette, and the Bradford Era to know that I intend to stay where I live and continue to work for open, democratic government in Hamlin Township and McKean County.

This is still America and that is my right as a citizen.

Bill Belitskus

"I like this guy," Cornplanter said. "I like him a whole lot."

"Me too," Red Jacket added. "I like him, too. He says it like it is and don't give a damn in a rain storm who doesn't agree with him, either."

"He does his homework, too," I said.

"This Kilmer guy is a real bozo," Cornplanter said. "You don't tell old warriors that if they don't like something to get out. They just might take your scalp for that and then burn you alive just for spite after all your hair is gone."

"I'll say," Red Jacket agreed.

"What about the timbering?" Cornplanter asked. "Is he still against it?"

"What if he is? Will that change your opinion of him?" I asked.

"No. I guess not," Cornplanter said.  "Still, it goes against what I stand for."

"Can't you agree with him in part?" I asked.

"I like what he says as long as he stays away from this no cutting issue," he said. "I can buy the things he says here.  I like what he says here. It makes a whole lot of sense what he says here.  It's just a shame that he is against the cutting of the trees. They have to be cut. Doesn't he know that?"

"Maybe he doesn't," Red Jacket said. "Maybe we should go visit him and sit down and pow wow over this timber cutting thing."

"Maybe we should," Cornplanter said. He looked at me. "Do you think he would listen to a couple of old Indians like us?" he asked.

"You'll never know unless you try," I said.

"You're right. I think we will try."

"Fine by me," Red Jacket agreed.  With that they set off to find Bill Belitskus.

---

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