JUNE 12 - JUNE 18, 1999
JUNE 18, 1999
Getting high with the Rainbows
Good morning. It is 39.4 degrees at 5:55 A.M. A thin veil of ground fog is
hanging over the top of this hill and I am told there is blue sky above. Even though the
furnace ran off an on all night, I believe this is going to be a good day.
Last night was one for the books.
Butch, Doug, and I popped into the Bradford Hotel. The usual crowd was there. John
Satterwhite and Grant Nichols were talking about the latest issue of the Bradford
Journal. Sheffer, Louie, and Welfare Wes were learning to play Bridge at one of the
corner tables. Judi and Jose came in to say hello, and overall, it was a pretty nice
evening.
Doug turned to John and asked him why the Rainbow Family gathering in Elk County
was getting so much front page coverage in The Era. Before he could answer, Dave
Sheffer spoke up from the corner.
"Because Bud stopped talking to his reporters."
That drew a good laugh. I even laughed at that one. John did too but pointed out
that they were news to the area and a certain amount of coverage was in order. No one
could really argue with that. No one except Welfare Wes, who would argue about anything.
"Who ever wrote that story in the paper this morning sounded like they were
stoned," he said.
We all just shook our heads, not believing what we were hearing. I tried to
remember the story. I had glanced over it and I did recall the childish tone to the
writing. It wasn't an example of good reporting by any stretch of the imagination, and it
seemed that the writer was attempting to capture something that just didn't exist anymore.
He was trying to describe 70's flower children who now had beer guts and were beyond being
just dirty. They were trying to prove a point, but the writer was unable to bring that
across. He lacked in the skill to do that.
Wes made his point. "Describing anything in the Allegheny National Forest as:
quote, Deep into the woods, unquote is an absolute lie. There ain't nothin' in the forest
anymore that's deep in the woods. They have so many logging roads anymore, it's like you
need a road map instead of a compass to get around. If those people want wilderness, they
should go to Central Park."
One of Wes's buddies, Toothless Tim, who was sitting at the bar chimed in, too.
Personally, I didn't know the guy could read but when he talked about the story, he
exhibited some decent knowledge of what was going on.
"The story bothered me, too. The Forest is open to everyone, so what's the big
thing about some over the hill hippies coming here? What about the Smith family? Are they
news if they come camping this summer? We all know what they are going to do down
there. Why does this guy have to write a story and make it sound like they are really good
for the forest? Is this part of the movement to bring Tourism to the area? That article
was a load of bunk. I don't understand what they were trying to prove with it."
Butch didn't want to join in the conversation, but quietly told me he agreed with
Toothless.
"They're old hippies, Bud," he said. "Nothing has changed. They
still get high and do their thing. This is an excuse for them to be who they were and not
let the neighbors know what they are really doing. That business about them being so
conscious of the environment and praying for peace is a pile of bunk. I'm not buying it
for a minute."
Doug agreed. "We all know what they are going to do. When they get those extra
25,000 or so, it will be all bets off. We'll see how tidy they are then. That article was
a lot of bunk. I hate agreeing with Wes, but he's right.
About that time, my pal George came in. Once more I knew where he was going
to land. And, once more, he didn't even bother to order, or buy me one for that matter,
before starting in one me.
"You filed your motions in Court today. What did they say?" he asked.
"Have you tried reading them, George?" I asked back.
"No," he said. "I thought I'd get the highlights from you
first."
"Do your own work, George," I said. "Go get it and read it. For the
most part it is pretty self explanatory."
"There were rumors that you had some bomb shell or something in it. What
about that?"
"Read it yourself," I said. "I don't know that there is anything so
special in it. Draw your own conclusions."
"Why are you like this?" he asked.
"Why didn't you write the real story about the Garbage Dump?" I asked.
"Why did you sugar coat a problem that is getting worse by the day? Why aren't
you saying that there is little, if any, hope that it will turn around? Why, George?"
Doug spoke up at that point. "Bud's been right about that place all along.
Would it kill you to point it out?"
I just laughed at that one and even John Satterwhite smiled. Grant was laughing
too, and poor George, I felt sorry for him. We all knew who wore the pants over at The
Era.
George gave up. He sat down with us and bought a round. As the conversation changed
to the Hockey Game on television, the door opened. In walked a glassy eyed reporter, who,
for the most part, wasn't walking all the well. It was, except for a photo that the paper
had run, the first time I ever saw him smile. And what a smile - it covered his
entire face and even seemed to go around to the back of his head. It was as if his whole
head was smiling and he gave you the impression he was floating across the floor to the
bar.
"Where were you?" George asked.
"Down seeing the Rainbow Family," he forced out before he broke into
uncontrollable laughter.
I looked at Doug and Butch and just shook my head.
Toothless and Welfare Wes spoke at the same time. "Oh my God!" they both
said in unison.
I thought the same thing.
Comment on this at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JUNE 17, 1999
And even if I am right!
Good morning at 5:46 A.M. It is 50.4 degrees outside and it looks like rain to the
west. I don't know what you have on tap for today, but I have a campaign expense
report due (associated with the 99 campaign) and Amended Ominbus Pre-Trial Motions also
due (associated with the 95 campaign).
I spent the greater part of yesterday preparing the motions. What motions am I
making? Various ones, but key ones to the defense of myself and my sister-in-law. Many of
them deal with the evidence that the Commonwealth dug up during the investigation. We
asked for it and they claim that it doesn't exist. To quote the $500 suit they sent
up from Pittsburgh, "I've given them everything that I have."
Well maybe they haven't.
But still, this isn't television or the movies. Most of you just assume that
everything is on the up and up when you go to court. Most of you assume the attorneys for
the state are just doing a job and have no personal interest in whether you are guilty or
not, they are just out to see that justice is done. If you believe that, get back under
your mushroom and hope they never come for you.
Don't ever believe that you are innocent until proven guilty. You may not be in
jail before they find you guilty, but it is up to you and you alone to prove that you are
innocent.
The District Attorney will lie, the police will lie, and many judges will just look
the other way. A jury of your peers, other people like you who are ignorant of the way the
system really works, will have no choice but believe that what they are hearing from the
authorities. Even if you are innocent, they will have you believing that you are
guilty - even though you know better.
I was exhausted when I went to bed last night. When Sharyn woke me just
after three, I had trouble waking up. Still, I heard what she did so and I took my .45 and
went to investigate. Once more on the back deck I had those two Indians.
"What the devil are you two doing at this hour of the morning?" I asked.
"Skunk hunt," Red Jacket answered. "Thought we'd stop in and say
hello to you."
"Gosh, guys," I said, not wanting to insult them and maybe lose my hair
or get burned alive. "Our custom is to visit at a better hour."
Now Cornplanter has known me a long time. He's helped me write the stories about
him, The Cornplanter Chronicles. Actually, he's told me what to write, and
sometimes, under a threat of having my head bashed with his war club that he carries with
him everywhere he goes now.
"Your world is too violent for me," he said when I asked him about the
weapon. "An old man like me needs protection."
Anyway, Cornplanter is very blunt with me and he became irritated that I would even
slightly suggest that their arrival on my back deck at 3:15 A.M. was anything but proper.
And besides, who am I to say anything to the great War Chief of the Seneca Nation?
"Hold your tongue, red head," he said to me. "This is still my land
you are on."
"I know," I said. I quickly apologized.
Cornplanter recognized that I was tired and even a bit irritable at that early hour
and allowed my lapse to pass without further mention. But he was interested in what
was bothering me.
When he asked I knew better than give him the standard "no comment " that
I had been saying lately. So, I laid it out. Both he and Red Jacket listened with great
interest and when I was finished said absolutely nothing.
"Well?" I asked.
"Well, what?" Cornplanter asked back to me.
"What do you think?" I asked him, pressing for an opinion.
It was there that he stopped me. The two of us had worked together many hours. He
stood very patiently behind me looking over my shoulder as I started his story on a yellow
legal pad. Once in awhile he would correct my spelling, and once in awhile he would thump
me on the head when I would want to put my own twist on what happened.
"This is my story," he would remind me. "When it is time to write
your own, you can write what you want. Until then you write it as it happened - or at
least the way I say it happened."
As he stopped me, those words came back.
"This is your story," he said. "You believe in what you are doing.
You are remaining true to yourself. You have no selfish motives. Your heart is pure.
Where is the problem?"
"Those are fine words," I told him. "But they are only words. They
don't give me direction. They don't tell me what to do."
Cornplanter looked at Red Jacket and shook his head. Red Jacket laughed and reached
into his bag and pulled out a recently killed skunk. It stunk like hell, or at least a
dead skunk!
"You are making too much of this," he said. "We set a path early
last evening to go on a skunk hunt. We followed that path and here is the fruit of
our quest. It stinks. It stinks bad. Just because the two of us decided to hunt and kill
skunks, that doesn't automatically make the skunk smell any sweeter. That doesn't make out
job any easier. Hunting skunks is a tough and smelly business. If you don't like hunting
skunks, go pick flowers. They smell better."
Cornplanter laughed. "Put that damn thing away," he said to his fellow
chief.
"Do you understand what he said to you?" Cornplanter asked me.
"What's to understand? Skunks stink and if you hunt skunks the stink gets on you.
Right?"
"That is right," he said to me. "You've heard the words, but do you
understand them?"
I wasn't sure where he was going. I thought I did, but put like that, maybe I
didn't.
"Don't look to the two of us to tell you if you are following a true and
correct path for yourself. Only you can decide that. You chose the path to follow, just as
we did. We chose to hunt skunks. You chose to give people better government and control
their taxes. Did you do that?"
"Yes," I answered.
"So you were true to yourself?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered again.
"Did you take anything for yourself?"
"No," I answered.
"But you did what you set out to do. You followed your path and you were true
to yourself?"
"Yes," I answered.
"Then you don't need our help. You have answered your own questions and have
allayed your own concerns. You have nothing to decide or do except to decide if you want
to continue to follow the same path. Only you can do that."
I shook my head back and forth. The smell of the dead skunk was everywhere. I knew
it was only a matter of minutes before Sharyn came out complaining about the smell. When
that happened, even two great war chiefs like Cornplanter and Red Jacket would get out of
the way. As I was about to speak, Cornplanter said one more thing.
"You have been a good leader. You have been a chief to your people and have
given them many things that they would not have had if it wasn't for you. Your people are
better because you came and led them. You want them to love you. You want them to tell you
that you did good for them. They won't do that. When things are good people forget. They
don't want to hear what they have to do to make them even better. They want to enjoy what
they have. Things are good and they've forgotten."
Red Jacket added his two cents on that one.
"If you want to be loved, get a dog," he said. "If they turn on you, you
can always eat them. People, they are tough. My people turned on me."
"After you sold Grand Island," Cornplanter added.
Red Jacket laughed. "You're right," he said. "I did that. I did that
after the northern Seneca followed Joseph Brant, a Mohawk, and went over into
Canada."
"There you go," Cornplanter said. "What happened to those people? They
did not follow you or me and where are they today? People will go where they feel they
need to go, even if it takes them someplace they didn't intend. The same will happen
here."
About that time Sharyn came out and complained about the skunk. The two Indians left,
leaving me a whole lot to think about.
Comment on this at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JUNE 16, 1999
So what if I'm right?
Good morning. It is 38.1 degrees at 5:50 A.M. - a record low in Buffalo at 42 so this
is probably one, too - for Marshburg at least.
Last night, after a very long day of driving to Cleveland and back, I was sitting in
The Bradford Hotel minding my own business. Grant was busy talking about the new
issue of the Bradford Journal and Miner with Sheffer, and the juke box was
playing an old Frank Sinatra tune. It was nice to be still for awhile and not
concentrating on the other guy for a change.
I enjoy my peaceful times. Whether its sitting on a bar stool somewhere, or just
sitting on a bench looking out on the water, those are the best times. It's a shame
that people can't realize that. Even when they are on that bench, looking out on the ocean
or even Lake Erie, they have that urge to talk. That is the one time when you need to
resist that urge and just go within yourself and find that peace that we all so dreadfully
need, just to continue to exist.
Those times are especially all that much better when you can share them with
someone you really care about, and, in saying nothing to one another, you really say a
whole lot. I know that may sound like a contradiction, but as Spock once said to
Stan in a Star Trek episode:
"It is not logical; but it is true, just the same."
Whether it makes sense to you or not, don't knock it until you've tried it. I have
and I know it works.
The juke box changed and the tune went from Frank Sinatra to Don MacLean singing American
Pie. That should have been my tip that my moments of solitude were about to change.
I may have suspected as much, but selfishly I clung to each second that I could
have to myself, almost as if I was saying goodbye to an old lover and not wanting to
leave. The tempo of the music kicked in and the door opened at the same time. In walked
George Petrisek.
There was no question in my mind where he intended to sit. And, I had no illusions
that I could continue to enjoy the solitude that had been mine. No, it didn't take even a
moment. Without ever saying hello, or ordering himself a beer, or an ice tea for that
matter, Georgesat down next to me and went right to work.
"Did you see my story today?" George asked me.
I nodded that I had.
"Well, what did you think about what I wrote?" he asked.
I didn't answer. I shook my head back and forth.
That seemed to agitate him. He asked again. "What did you think about the
story?"
Finally, I answered. "No comment," I said.
Now George really is a decent guy. Only once did he write something so blatantly
false that it seemed he really went out of his way to hurt me. And, what hurt about that,
is I was really doing something good and unselfish at the time and he took it and twisted
it to make it look like it was for some other reason and then accused me of improper
conduct, too. That hurt me personally and that is a hard one to put behind me.
Still, I do have respect for him and when I refused to answer I meant nothing personal by
it. George on the other hand, took it as if it was of a personal nature.
"What's wrong with you?" he demanded of me.
"Nothing," I answered.
"I thought you would be jumping up and down celebrating that what you
predicted would happen at the Land Fill is in fact happening."
I just looked at him. I didn't offer any answer or dialog to what he said. I
just looked at him and then took a sip of my beer. George didn't know me. He thought
he did; but he didn't. There really was nothing to say. He had already said it in
his story. The headline said it. "With tonnage down, landfill
experiencing cash flow problem." I didn't understand what he needed from me.
"Everything you said would happen is happening."
"So write a story and say that," I told him. "What do you want from
me?"
"Your comments," he said back.
At that point I stopped him.
"This is off the record, George," I told him. "I don't expect to see
this in one of your or Pat Cercone's cheap shots in tomorrow's newspaper. But, if I said
it would happen and it is happening, why are you so protective of the authority and Lowell
Ayres? Your story centers around how the problems they are experiencing is
someone else's fault and not theirs. Do you believe that?"
"Not fully," he said.
"Then why didn't you write that?" I asked. "If Lowell Ayres' name
was Bud Beck and I was running the garbage dump and I was having the problems he is
having, then you would be writing stories about how my rotten personality drove customers
away. You would be calling me financilly inept and say that I did not have the tools
to run an operation of that magnitude. Why aren't you saying that about Lowell? It's his
baby. He calls the shots.
" The only thing I am surprised at is they haven't tried to hang the daily
shortfall on me, somehow saying this is all my fault. There must not be any way to do that
or you and Pat would have put that in your story," I said.
"Why are you like this?" he asked.
"Like what, George?" I asked back. "I was here minding my own
business. You came to me. I didn't come to you. You wrote the story. What more do you
need? If you are looking for verification from me or a follow-up, forget it. I have no
comment. This isn't new news and it isn't of Pulitizer caliber. What is going on speaks
for itself and now it is up to the people to decide for themselves. They have to decide
how important this is to them. They have to ask if they are ready to shoulder the
responsibility if the place goes under."
Cautioning him that what I was saying was still off the record, I explained to him
how owning a garbage dump was like owning a professional sports team.
"I don't know, George. All through the primary I heard from some men who
really are not all that bright say how wonderful it was to own our own land fill.
They all looked the other way and ignored that we owe $15 million on it and to keep it
open we will need to borrow another $5 million. No one said that except me, and when I
did, you never printed it. It was easier to lobby for the new stadium that the tax payers
have to pay for it, so to speak, and allow the authority to go on their ignorant merry
ways.
"No one wanted to talk the financial feasibility of the issue. No one understood
it and you were not going to go out of your way and try to educate anyone either. I
told Woody when this first started in early 1997 to get both sides. That never
happened."
"So what are you saying now?" he asked.
"On the record?"
"Yes," he said.
"No comment," I answered.
"Are you going to run?" he asked.
"Are you going to write about Al Pingie running illegally?" I asked back.
George didn't answer and neither did I.
Comment on this at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JUNE 15, 1999
What a way to start your day
Good morning. It is 51.4 cool degrees at 6:14 A.M. The rains have come and gone.
We needed the water and our gardens are the better for it.
Me, I had a nice birthday. Eat your heart out Donald Trump! Following that, I had
a great nights sleep; at least until 3:55 when the dogs woke me.
Don't ever think its easy befriending two characters like Cornplanter and Red
Jacket. It isn't.
Oh, they're interesting enough. They can fill you in on events like the
French and Indian War, the American Revolution, and the settlement of the west, and to
them, that means Pennsylvania and Ohio. Beyond that, you spend a whole lot of time trying
to explain to them why you don't burn your enemies alive, and things like that.
Imagine my surprise when I got up to see what was upsetting the dogs and found the
two Indian Chiefs sitting at the patio table on my back deck. What do you say to two old
men carrying war clubs, hatchets, and knives at four in the morning? What do you say? You
say hello and ask them if they would like coffee.
The two are perfect guests. They never expect anything and are always polite.
Still, I could see something was bothering them.
"Have you checked your e-mail today?" Cornplanter asked me.
"Well, no," I said. "I was asleep and the dogs just woke me."
Red Jacket spoke up. "Take a minute and check it. You will find something
interesting."
I went back into the house after making sure the two didn't need anything and
turned on the computer. This is what I found.
From: "Bill Belitskus" <mbproact@penn.com>
To: "Harold Beck" <rdhedbud@penn.com>
Subject: Open government at work in Hamlin Township?????
Date: Mon, 14 Jun 1999 18:08:47 -0400
X-MSMail-Priority: Normal
X-Mailer: Microsoft Internet Mail 4.70.1155
PROACT R.D. # 1 Box 172 B Kane, PA 16735
Phone: (814) 778 – 5173 Fax: (814) 778 – 5071 E-mail:
mbproact@penn.com
Contact: Bill Belitskus
(814) 778-5173
Press Release
HAMLIN TOWNSHIP SUPERVISORS USE STATE POLICE TO BLOCK PUBLIC INPUT AND
PARTICIPATION AT TOWNSHIP MEETING
For immediate release
Hazel Hurst, PA (June 14) At Hamlin Township's regular monthly meeting, the Pennsylvania
State Police were called by the Township Supervisors to arrest Hamlin Township citizen,
Bill Belitskus of Lantz Corners. Belitskus is a member of the local concerned citizens
group, PROACT, that monitors open government issues in Hamlin Township and McKean County.
Since March of 1999, Belitskus has raised legitimate concerns at township meetings
about a secret commercial land development, which also includes a communications microwave
tower, already under construction at a site along Route 219 in Lantz Corners. The
commercial land development and building
permit were not listed on the township meeting's two agenda items.
Chairman Township Supervisor, Bill Kilmer, attempted to take action on the building
permit by declaring a new, unlisted agenda category called "Supervisors' Input".
When Belitskus questioned why the McKean County Planning Office, Planning Commission, and
the Hamlin Township Supervisors did not publicly review this commercial land development,
sewage permit, and building permit, Chairman Supervisor Kilmer declared, "You're out
of order."
Mr. Belitskus informed the Township Supervisors that they were violating the Sunshine
Act by taking action on items before the board not listed on the agenda and not allowing
public comment. Chairman Kilmer abruptly ordered the meeting stopped, left the public
meeting room, and retired to
the secretary's office to call the State Police to come and arrest Belitskus for
disrupting the meeting.
Two Pennsylvania State Troopers from the Lantz Corners barracks spent one and half
hours of valuable citizen protection time investigating the Township Supervisors' charges
that Belitskus' attempt to participate in his local governmental meeting was disruptive.
After reviewing PROACT's own video of the meeting, supplied by Belitskus, the State
Police found no grounds for the Hamlin Township Supervisors' charges. Mr. Belitskus chose
to exercise his right as a citizen participating in his local governmental meeting by
remaining in the meeting room and completing the video taping of the proceedings.
Currently, the Hamlin Township Supervisors have three Sunshine Act lawsuits pending in
McKean County Court against them by citizens for violations of open government
requirements. Former Hamlin Township Supervisor, William
Speedy, brought one of the Sunshine Act suits for violations of the open government
requirements.
Belitskus is running as an independent Green Party candidate for Hamlin Township
Supervisor in the fall, stressing open, public government in his platform.
The two men were upset. Cornplanter was especially disturbed.
"I knew the Great White Father," he said, referring to George Washington.
"What happened is not what he had in mind when this nation was created after the
Revolution. White hair," referring to Belitskus, "can be a handful; but he was
within his rights, as the Great White Father explained it to me in Philadelphia in 1791.
Why is this man acting like this?"
"I don't know," I said. "This is the first I've heard about it. I
had no idea that any of this had taken place."
"Is this a government by the people and for the people like Tom Jefferson said it
was; or, is it for special people like this guy here?" Red Jacket asked.
"Now don't get us wrong," Cornplanter said. "White hair is full of
buzzard feathers when it comes to his ideas on logging and other things. But he was right
here. Can you really call the police to shut up someone who is attempting to speak their
mind at a public meeting?"
"You shouldn't," I answered. "I never did to Kilmer or White
hair," I said. "I would expect the same from him to me and to other citizens,
too."
The two Indians accepted my word that I would get to the bottom of the whole thing
and moved on leaving me here to report to you. I welcome all of your comments on this and
other subjects at rdhedbud@penn.com. Have a
nice day.
JUNE 14, 1999
Happy Birthday Donald Trump
Good morning. It is 62.1 degrees at 6:03 A.M. and rain is on the way.
Get your flags out. Today is Flag Day.
It is also Donald Trump's 53rd birthday. Happy Birthday Donald!
Ole' Donny boy doesn't realize the cruel quirk of fate that he and I share.
He doesn't realize that because he was born a minute too soon, how his life was thrown
into the chaos that he has been force to live through. Really, the failed marriages, the
fact that he cannot find true peace in spite of all of his money, happened because of the
timing of his birth.
You see, Donald Trump was born at 12:59 A.M. in Manhattan, New York. About four
hundred miles away, in St. John's Hospital in Pittsburgh, PA another baby was being born.
That baby arrived one minute later at exactly 1 A.M. The woman in New York was a pampered
upper west side woman who had been in the hospital many hours just so nothing could be
left to chance. The woman in Pittsburgh was playing bridge and when she finally got home a
little before midnight, decided it was time.
Donald's early arrival gave him first call on the women and athletic prowess. He
was always organized (he kept a journal and imagined himself a bit of a Gatsby like
character) and planned his life, knowing full well that by his fifty-third birthday, and
most certainly a whole lot earlier, he would be a multi-millionaire and the envy of most
of the world.
Even though he went to a military school, Donald didn't serve during the Viet Nam
War. He went to a fashionable Ivy League school where he distinguished himself both in the
classroom and in the bedroom. Donald was not only a stud, he was a smart stud, too.
Way to go Donald!
We all know Donald's success stories and even his failures that he turned into
successes. The media has a way of making us aware of people like Donald. They love him and
because of their love for him (and his love for them) they make us love him, too.
People like Donald, good looking, youthful for their age, and don't forget so very very
rich, are easy to love. Yes they are.
And it shows.
Just wait. Tomorrow we will read about the Birthday Party Donald's new significant
other threw for him at the Plaza, or on a yacht, or even in one of his casinos in Atlantic
City, and the guest list will include the who's who of the Western World - or at least the
Jet Set incrowd society. Yes, Donald will have a wonderful time. Women will pinch him on
the bottom, slip him their phone numbers, and he might even catch a quickie off in some
corner when he becomes delicately absent. Do I sound just a tad jealous?
If I do, I am sorry that I gave you the wrong impression. I am not one bit
jealous of Donald Trump. I am not sure that I would voluntarily consent to change places
with him for even one day. No, even with all the love and all the adoration that Donald
Trump receives daily, I wouldn't trade my life for his for any reason or any amount of
money.
Do I sound crazy to you? Is what I say unbelievable? Do you find it hard to believe
that I would not want the power and the influence that this one man has been able to amass
in only 53 years?
Frankly, I don't give a damn what you might say about what I have said. I don't
give a damn because what I 've said is the absolute truth. I would not want to trade with
Donald Trump. I would not want to be born on minute earlier than I was and I do not need
the fancy birthday party that he will undoubtedly have tonight. No, I would much rather be
here in Marshburg and share the day with my family just as I have for so many other years.
Sharyn and I have been married for seventeen years. I can count seventeen good
birhtdays right there. I lived at home with my parents for eighteen years. I had eighteen
good birthdays there. That adds up to thirty-five out of fifty-three that I know I had
good birthdays. I was happy as a child and I have been happy as a husband to Sharyn. I
wonder if Donald can count his birthdays like that? As for the other eighteen, some were
good and others were not.
There was my twenty-first birthday. I was in the Canal Zone going to a survival
school. That night I was in a local bar just outside of the Fort where we were finishing
our training. I was finally legal at home and I was celebrating with my buddies. As young
men are apt to do when they are young men and are dirinking, they talk too much and they
say the wrong things. Unfortunately for me, I did just that.
A Marine gunny, a crusty old guy (he was probably thirty or so) warned me once. He did
not warn me a second time. He hit me in the jaw so hard I flew across the room and hit the
ply wood wall, knocking it down, and went outside down a small hill into a ditch which was
used to drain away excess water and sewage. On my twenty-first birthday I learned
the meaning of John Wayne's warning to his sons in Big Jake, "If you can't
respect your elders, you will respect your betters!" I have always thanked the
crusty old Marine for that lesson and birthday present. I never made that mistake again.
I would bet that Donald Trump can't point to a life changing experience like that
one today.
At fifty-three I marvel at how fast it has gone. I look at the few things I have
accomplished and I am thankful for them. I look at my children and realize that I didn't
do such a bad job afterall. And, I am thankful that they love and they respect me
for the man that I am. What more can one ask?
I have good friends. I am thankful for them. Beyond that, I am satisfied with myself.
That, in itself, allows me to be satisfied with everyone else.
I wish I could sit down with Donald Trump today, on our birthdays, and just chat
awhile. I wish we could share experiences - maybe even talk about the women we've known
and loved. Mine of course would not be as recent as his, but I am sure that mine would be
just as interesting and exciting. We could talk about the money we have made and
lost and made back. I wouldn't be talking in the great sums he would be, but mine would be
just as important and earth shattering to me. The excitement of it all wouldn't be all
that much different.
Yes, Donald and I could share a whole lot. Maybe, when we were through, as we were
about to part, he might aske me the secret of my success. If he would the answer would be
easy. I would say it like this:
"Donald. It is just learning to be happy with what you have, who you are,
and making the most of it. You already know that. You just don't live it."
I hope Don has a great birthday wherever he goes and whatever he does. I will be with
the people I love and for me that will be enough.
Comments welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
JUNE 13, 1999
Publisher's Note: This is the THIRD 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 Three: Twisting the News to Suit Their Needs
When federal and state monies are left over, if you don’t use it, you lose it. It
seemed simple enough to Larry Stratton, Jim Weaver, and myself when the projects in 1994
cost $31,000 less than was anticipated, to use the money instead of sending it back. Also,
when we contract with Penny Eddy, the director of the Redevelopment Authority, and pay her
$50,000 annually to administer the programs for us, we felt it reasonable enough to follow
her recommendations. So, when she recommended that we use the left over $31,000 to fix the
Kasson Bridge, we felt that it was prudent to do just that.
Even without Jim Buck and The Era pointing out the obvious, that I opposed the
Kasson Bridge Project in 1997, it did not make sense to make a big deal out of me voting
to allocate the money to make a shoddy job right. It didn’t make sense, but they did
it just the same.
Fact - I pointed out the bridge was crooked with respect to the road. It did not line
up and the extra money is being used to re-pave the approaches to the bridge and line the
road up to the bridge.
Why wouldn’t I support fixing something that was obviously built wrong?
Perhaps it was that I made no great deal out of it. Perhaps it was that we just
approved the funding to get the job done once and for all.
At the time I did question what was going on. Supervisor Bill Kilmer and Penny Eddy
were just a little too cozy to suit me. Kilmer was just a little too friendly with the
firm that designed, built, and then inspected its own work. The whole idea of having no
outside checks on a project that was being built with public money bothered me a whole
lot. I spoke out against it and if I remember correctly, the paper was careful not to take
pictures from the proper angle to show how far the bridge was out of line with the road.
You tell me what I should have done at the meeting on June 7th. Was anyone
interested in hearing old news all over again, or, should we have used the extra money to
finally make what should have been done properly the first time, finally right? Doing the
right thing draws critical reporting in one case, and in another, only two days later,
draws no reporting at all.
Kessel Construction Company and its owner Dick Kessel built a new hanger for
the Bradford Regional Airport Authority. They built it and they did a lousy job.
From the beginning, even before the Construction began, even before the Authority
approved the project, Dick Kessel made big promises. He promised that the new hanger would
have full occupancy. He gave the authority a list of names of people anxious to sign five
year contracts with the authority that would guarantee the project would be fully funded
and easily paid off by the authority. Kessel’s promises then, proved as hollow as his
ability to properly manage the job at the airport.
When the project was given tentative approval to go forward, it was Kessel’s
design and price that the Authority ultimately purchased. Just as he promised full
occupancy, he promised a faultless and proper design. That was not the case.
With the first fall rains the new hanger had problems. Water ran off the roof and then
went backwards into the hanger. In fact, all winter, with each snow and thaw, the water
wound up in the hanger, instead of outside where it belonged. Dick Kessel, himself, came
before the Airport Authority armed with pictures and threatening to move his plane out of
the new hanger, the hanger he built, unless the problem was fixed and fixed fast.
The design plans indicated a 1% slope away from the hanger, but as recently as the
first week in June, just a week or so ago, it was discovered that no slope existed on one
full side of the hanger. It was Dick Kessel who was responsible and was he prepared to
make it right. Was he prepared to tear out what he built incorrectly and make it right?
Was that what he offered? No. He did not.
Instead he designed a fix that would literally save himself and his company thousands
of dollars. The fix would, in his own words, end his responsibility to the Authority once
it was done. Would he guarantee that no water would find its way into the hanger? No, he
would and could not.
While the discussion and argument over whether to let Kessel off the hook took close to
an hour in a public meeting and over an hour in a private meeting before the Authority
met, and, even in spite of the fact that The Era’s Publisher and
Editor-in-Chief, John Satterwhite, is an authority member, no reporter from The Era
attended. Even without any first hand knowledge of what happened, The Era still
reported, on page two, a story entitled "Kessel to fix drainage problems at
airport."
While I was out voted by the rest of the Authority on making Kessel do the job he was
originally contracted to do and not be allowed to perform band aid repairs, the vote was
never reported. Neither was the fact that I pointed out that we were using public funds
and this was not a Defense Project where over runs were the norm rather than the
exception. No. The Era was not present to report on Mr. Kessel and his failure to
perform according to the contact he signed with the Authority. Why?
It was convenient that a $300,000 blunder got such little ink on the second page, yet
an overdue $30,000 fix got front page status. Was it because the points I made about
Kessel’s shoddy work would have given me a look that the paper is not prepared to
allow happen? You tell me.
Even on the day that they reported "Beck to appear on November
ballot," they ran Jim Eckstrom’s editorial, "Bud Beck his own worst
enemy."
Eckstrom, someone who I have never seen at the Court House, let alone attend a
Commissioner’s Meeting, authoritatively editorialized in the following manner:
"From day one Beck stalked around, like a belligerent schoolboy with a huge chip
on his shoulder, and just went looking for fights. Oppose him over the slightest issue and
you could count on being pilloried and insulted, if not directly from his mouth then from
his mouthpiece publication. He turned on friends and supporters and essentially carved a
path of political destruction that just couldn’t be sustained. I for one believe that
a little frank discussion in politics at any level is a good thing., but if the discussion
invariably deteriorates into name calling and conspiracy theorizing, the public is left
with nothing but a bad taste in its mouth over the whole business."
I wonder where these "facts" for the editorial come from? Which "friends
and supporters" did I turn on? The friends I had four years ago, are still my
friends. Exactly who is Mr. Eckstrom talking about when he says such a thing?
Yet it does make good reading, especially to those who want to talk me and what I have
accomplished during my tenure as County Commissioner down. Once more, The Era continues
with unsubstantiated accusations and because they print it under the by line of one of
their reporters, it is supposed to be taken as fact.
Unfortunately, they are right when they make that assumption.
They bank on one thing and one thing alone, something I cannot combat. It is
your own lack of attentiveness to the real facts of any situation; and, your basic
ignorance and overall apathy. They count on the fact that at least once a week they can
twist a story to put me in a bad light and you will believe it.
They didn’t take me seriously in 1995. Eckstrom, obviously The Era’s
new political analyst, said,
"Can Beck win? Anything is possible and Beck - no one can accuse him of not being
smart in his own way - ran a canny race back when he was first elected."
Evidently, aside from being a Political Analyst, Eckstrom is also a Psychic. Eckstrom
somehow knows what is in my mind and has decided, maybe with the use of tea leaves or the
such, that I intend to run in November. It seems to be a burning issue in the minds and
hearts of The Era’s staff because I even crept into the story about Connie
Cavallaro the other day and the fact I said "no comment" to their questions
about my intentions seemed a logical way to end a totally non related story. Explain that
to me!
I make good copy because The Era has an agenda. Even with that they
will purposely overlook real stories that affect each and every one of us. Bernie Moore in
his new web site located at the following location:
http://www.angelfire.com/pa2/TheJerksJournal/index.html.
asks a simple question.
Was Al Pingie a LEGAL candidate?
He writes:
"I seem to be the only one interested in asking this question and although I have
asked several people in the media, state government, local government and commissioner
wannabes, I have yet to get an answer. Not only do they refuse to offer an answer they
even refuse to echo the question in public. What in the hell are they afraid of?
"The City of Bradford Civil Service Rules and Regulations clearly states that all
active paid firemen and policemen (not including the Chiefs) are covered under the Civil
Service Act. The following list of Do's and Don'ts apply to these paid positions. As far
as I am concerned the answer is also very clear.
"Any reasonable person would come to the same conclusion, Al Pingie was NOT a
legal candidate.
"So, where do we go from here and who is responsible for taking action?
State and Local Hatch Act Do's
State and Local Hatch Act Don'ts
Advisories for State and Local Employees
"The Hatch Act also applies to the political activity of certain state and local
government employees. Covered employees under the act are persons principally employed by
state or local executive agencies in connection with programs financed in whole or in part
by federal loans or grants. The act does not apply to the political activity of persons
employed by educational or research institutions or agencies supported in whole or part by
(a) states or their political subdivisions, or (b) religious, philanthropic or cultural
organizations. It should be noted that some statutes make Hatch Act provisions applicable
to other categories of individuals, e.g., persons employed by private, non-profit
organizations that plan, develop and coordinate Head Start and certain other types of
federal assistance. Ref: 5 U.S.C. § 1212(f), and chapter 15
State and Local Hatch Act Do's
Covered state and local employees may-
run for public office in nonpartisan elections
campaign for and hold office in political clubs and organizations
actively campaign for candidates for public office in partisan and nonpartisan
elections
contribute money to political organizations and attend political fundraising functions
State and Local Hatch Act Don'ts
Covered state and local employees may not-
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 PRETTY BLINKING OBVIOUS, HEH?"
That is a story with enormous potential. The Era’s managing editor has
known about this for two weeks. Have we seen even a mention of it. Of course not. Instead
we have been treated to headlines like: Beck hasn’t been seen in Smethport. In
Bernie’s words, something else is pretty blinking obvious, too.
JUNE 12, 1999
An old subject and a new one
Ironically, as I have begun to update the end of Ripe For the Picking, the
story of the Kathy Wilson Murder Case, I hear about it once more.
At 07:12 PM 6/11/99 -0500, Bonnie Wagner wrote:
I have been reading your articles about the Wilson murder case and have recently gone
through some of the original transcripts. Michael Brown was charged almost the same as
Buckley was. Second, it was not a slick lawyer that got Buckley off, it was the
commonwealth of Pa that did that by trying to coax and coach Brown into being a witness to
the crime when they knew all along he was not a witness. Please remember Brown was a 16
year old that was easily manipulated. First he was told he would get the reward for
agreeing to be a witness and was even given a code to enter when he called Crimestoppers
for the reward. He had a girlfriend expecting a child and I'm sure it sounded like easy
money to him. The day he was arrested he was told he WOULD NOT be charged with anything -
they just wanted him to come down so they could talk to them and since all of them were
too busy(?) this time to go get him they had a limo pick him up. Lo and behold there was a
ton of media waiting at the state police barracks when he arrived in the limo. Brown was
then told he was being put in jail for his own protection. How many people charged with
serious crimes that are in jail are allowed to have their family come and visit them in
the courthouse after hours? Even after the commonwealth managed to drag this thing
out for years-one can only guess why- and even after they were specifically told to put
Brown on trial for the perjury charge they did not. Why? They knew a trial would open up a
can of worms that would show the disgusting decay that is all through the justice system
in this county--country. Brown was given a new attorney but as soon as he managed to plea
bargain off Brown he threatened to charge Brown with harrassement if he contacted him
again.There is a lot of errors in your story and if you took the time to check the
transcripts or even the web site that deals with them you would see this. We recently
found out the attorney general had transcripts no one knew about and were not available
until after Brown had been into court this last time. And why was evidence given to the
"Meadville task force" which no one seems to be able to say what it is all
about. I firmly believe Brown is not the criminal in this case but the commonwealth, from
top to bottom. I also firmly believe unless something is done to change the way the
current justice system works we all will lose our rights as citizens and end up living in
way our forefathers worked so hard to avoid.
Sincerely, Bonnie Wagner jokey69@penn.com.
First of all, before I give the answer I sent Bonnie Wagner, I will say that I will not
edit critical comments of me. I will leave your incorrect grammer and punctuation as is.
If you know so much, do it right yourself. Now for my answer:
I think if you took the time to read what I have written you would find that I said
exactly what you said I did not. The body of my work consists of six years of research. I
have found things that have never been disclosed even as of this writing. Sixteen
year old or not, Brown was and is a pathalogical liar and deserves whatever he gets.
However, Joe Massa, Richard Hernan, and John Herzog should be in adjacent cells. I really
enjoy you newcomers to the story who now look back in retrospect and have so much to say.
Where where you when Barry Smith and I were the only ones contending that Jay Buckley was
innocent? Harold Beck
Also, our buddy, Bernie, THE JERK, Moore has joined the on line publishing club.
He sent me the following message:
Date: Sat, 12 Jun 1999 06:48:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bernie E Moore <thecooker@rocketmail.com>
Subject: webpage
To: rdhedbud@penn.com
NOW DON'T LAUGH, but I now have a stupid little
freebie web page: http://www.angelfire.com/pa2
/TheJerksJournal/index.html totally self-taught (how do I get the damned picture smaller?)
anyway, tell me what you think, I will be having someinteresting things posted on it
including your new poliitical rival, John (big plans) Reetz, (did I spell his name right?)
not only is he claiming to be the one man driving force behind your primary defeat but
just yesterdayhe filed to run as a third party candidate in the upcoming general election
for county commissioner, his platform is laughable to say the least. I will be dedicating
a spot on my page to his big ideas, hint:gambling, pro-boxing and pro-wrestling.
Just a tip, there is much, much more. Remember, don't laugh at me, laugh with me.
Bernie
Bud's Comment: Bernie, I love your web site. About the picture, the kids are great and you
aren't that bad (I'm used to you - it might be a shock to new comers though.). As
far as getting the picture smaller, leave it alone. Just cut of the bottom that includes
your beer belly. That alone must take up 30,000 or so kilobytes, at least!
Really, it is good and I will link up to you as you have to me. Keep up the good work!
There wasn't going to be a column today, but thanks to Bonnie and Bernie, we have one.
Comments welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
If you have a comment on this article please click here.
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