The Publisher's Page BY HAROLD T. BECK

JULY 10 - JULY 16, 1999

JULY 16, 1999

Marshburg Disney World?

You never know what to expect when you walk into the Bradford Hotel on a hot and muggy night. Last night was one of those times.

There were a variety of subjects that could have come up. The impending appearance before Judge Cleland today in the hummingbird fiasco was what I expected. Instead, it was John Reetz.

"Hey Bud," Welfare Wes hollered across the room.

I turned to acknowledge him. "What do you need?" I asked.

"What about the Senator running for County Commissioner?" he asked.

Now the readers should be aware that a long time ago I nicknamed John Reetz "The Senator." John, it seems, believes that he knows more about any subject than any person alive. His big pet peeve back then was the "baby boomer generation" and how we were borrowing ourselves into another depression. He used to go on and on to the point that someone tape recorded him and one night, when he began, they played the tape along with his oration, and, with few exceptions it came out word for word. The funny part of the whole thing was not that we had the speech on tape; but rather John went on and on never hearing the tape playing along with him and never missed a beat. John, it seems, was talking just to hear himself talk.

"What about it?" I asked back.

"Well," Wes said. "It seems he is running against you. You are his main target."

"Did you get that impression?" I asked jokingly.

At that point Mattress Margie joined in. "He has some novel ideas for industrial development. I read the write up that Jim Buck did on him in the paper."

"Yea," Toothless Tim added. "He wants one hundred new start up companies that employ five people each. That's five thousand new jobs!"

"The math works out to that," I said.

"I'm against that," Tim said. "I have a right not to work. Don't they have a Right Not to Work Law? Didn't George Bush pass that when he was President before the Gulf War?"

I ignored Tim's statement. It was as absurd as what John Reetz had said. Where were we going to get 100 start up companies? Where would you put them? Was this guy in cahoots with Ray McMahon? Was he trying to get his name on an incubator building? I thought about it. With the Senator anything was possible including falling off his bar stool when he drank and talked too much. God knows how many times I saw that happen.

Then the conversation really became absurd.

"I don't like you Bud," Welfare Wes said. "But you are the lesser of two evils in this case. This guy wants to take all the shore line of the reservoir and develop it. He says the shore line would bring McKean County $1.9 million dollars in new taxes. You know how I opposed the resort when they wanted to put it on the public beach. I am against any development of the reservoir and the shore line. We don't need to make it into a Lake Chautauqua."

I should have shut up. If I was smart, that's exactly what I would have done. But that conversation was so ridiculously stupid, I felt I had a place in it.

"First of all," I said."Nearly 95% of the shore line is in Warren County. To assume that we would realize $1.9 million in new taxes by doing that would make the land worth as much as half of Manhattan Island," I told him. "The Senator always talks a good game, but he never knows what he's talking about. How long have you known him? When has he ever known anything about what he was talking about?" I asked.

"Never," Welfare Wes said.

"So what's the big deal? You and Tim are safe. John Reetz will never be able to bring in 100 start up companies that employ five people each and force you to go to work Anyway," I said. "Look on the bright side. Even if they forced you to work, you could always hurt your back again and start another compensation claim."

About that time Grant Nichols began to laugh. "Now that's the most intelligent thing I've heard all night," he said.

"What do you mean?" Wes said taking obvious exception.

Everyone else in the bar laughed. They all knew what we meant.

"What do you think about him running?" Grant asked.

Once more I shrugged my shoulders. "What's to say? He'll make things humorous. He's eighty years old which means nothing; but, he is really losing his grip on things. For some reason he has made this personal. I was always good to him. When he was in jail we used to send him cigarettes and when he got out and was home under house arrest we used to send him a fish fry and a few packs of cigarettes on Fridays. It seems like he's jealous or wants attention or something like that.. Oh well. I have other things to worry about."

Then I paused for a moment. " I did like that idea about getting Disney or MGM to put in a theme park. Imagine!" I said. "Marshburg Disney World! It does have a ring to it. We could put it up adjacent to the Marshburg Domed Stadium. The two facilities could share parking."

"What about the River Boat Gambling?" Grant asked.

"That's another broken campaign promise made by Tom Ridge. We're not going to see that. I'd be opposed to it for the obvious reasons. I'll leave that to the Reetzs and the Pingies. Just imagine the debate the two of them can have over finishing Route 219!"

About that time Chief Red Jacket showed up to drive me back up the hill. As usual your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com. ..

JULY 15, 1999

Good morning.  I thought this little tidbit just might be of interest to you. This is a follow up on the startling story we broke last month right here on the Publisher's Page.

FIRST SEAPLANE ARRIVES AT BRADFORD REGIONAL AIRPORT !!!

Dick Kessel promises "a new day in aviation for the area."

BRADFORD, PA - Dick Kessel, owner of Kessel Construction Company, announced today that "all systems were go" for the planned sea plane port at Bradford Regional Airport. The sea plane, flown in specially for yesterday’s Airport Authority meeting, was on display to promote the new use for the airport.

The proposed facility will be the only one of its kind this far inland and have the highest elevation above sea level anywhere on the North American continent. Ed Nasuti, of Lee Simpson & Associates, the engineering firm responsible for the design of the new facility, said: "That of course does not take into considerations lakes and rivers located in the mountains where sea planes are in heavy use. This is the only facility of its kind designed to house and service this particular brand of aircraft."

The plan for the sea plane port came about as a result of problems with water accumulating in the new T-Hanger designed by Lee Simpson and built by Kessel Construction. "Capitalizing on the problem, the authority went forward with a bold and innovative idea," Penny Eddy, Executive Director of the McKean County Redevelopment Authority, stated following yesterday’s regularly scheduled meeting of the Airport Authority.

Echoing her sentiments, Ray McMahon, Director of the Office of Economic and Community Development and President of Ray McMahon Realty stated: "This is a perfect example of making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, something I am an expert at - or at least the appearance of doing so."

With solicitor Joe Marasco out of town and several members absent, the authority voted 5 -0 to allow Lee Simpson & Associates to go forward with the Environmental Impact Study for the fifty foot wide, three thousand foot long, ten feet deep canal that will parallel the secondary runway. The new heated water landing area will be a state of the art base that will have uses that, as Authority member Harold Beck said, "We haven’t even thought of yet.

Comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

JULY 14, 1999

Hummingbirds and tourism

Good morning. I am getting a late start because I had to refill my hummingbird feeders. This hummingbird scenario is still continuing and there is no way that you will ever be able to convice me that this is not a political persecution of me and my little winged friends.

As I was replacing one of the feeders, Sharyn came out with coffee.

"Are they still there?" she asked.

"Yes," I answered. "They're over there in the trees."

"The hummingbirds?" she asked, sounding confused.

"No," I answered. "Cornplanter and Red Jacket."

She refused to look at the line of trees where I was pointing. Had she, the two Indians would have been visible, both of them waving. They were there acting as sentinels keeping a watchful eye on the forces of evil. That would of course be the minions of the Attorney General - Phinneas T. Bluster, Hummingbird Code Enforcement Officer; and the Investigators Porky and Petunia. They were out on Route 59 with sophisticated listening and photographic equipment. And, they were there yesterday when I returned from the doctor's.

It was around two in the afternoon. As I pulled up the road toward my house I saw a truck in my driveway. It was a pickup with lettering on the side. Getting closer to the house I was able to read the name. It was SIGN DESIGN OF WESTLINE. As I pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the garage door, Jerry Clark got out of the truck.

Jerry had a big smile on his face. Jerry always has a smile on his face.

"Hi, Bud," he said.

"Hello," I said back. I was glad to see Jerry. I was just at a loss as to why he had decided to come by my house. "What's up?" I asked.

"Them," he said, pointing at Porky and Petunia in the undercover state car parked across the highway.

"They've been there since this mess started," I said. "I don't understand why. I have been cited and I have to appear. What's the big deal now?" I asked.

"That's why I'm here," he said. "Jim wanted me to come by on the Q--T and give you some important information."

"Yes?" I said. "What information is that?" (For those of you who are wondering who Jim is, that of course would be our local State Representative and Deputy Majority Whip, Jim Lynch (R), Warren and McKean Counties.)

Jerry continued. "This hummingbird thing is bigger than you realize. It is shaping up to be a Democrat Vs Republican thing down in Harrisburg and it is going to ultimately be bigger than the stadium funding package bill."

"What?" I asked, hardly believing what I was hearing. "How can that be?"

"Hey," he said. "They pick strange battlegrounds and there are many little known facts about how hummingbirds got to this neck of the woods, so to speak, that it might astound even you."

Now for those of you who haven't had the privilege or the pleasure of meeting Jerry, you should be aware that you are never sure whether he is kidding or serious with you. About the time you think he's serious, he's kidding. And, if you believe he is kidding, you can bet your bottom dollar that he is as serious as a heart attack. That's Jerry, and, I couldn't tell where he was coming from at that particular moment.

"Fill me in," I said.

"It goes back to when I was president of the Tourist Association. I was responsible for bringing Hummingbirds to McKean County. Before I was president they hung out down in Warren where the mornings are warmer. Curt Bowley was the State Representative then and he tried using his Democrat buddies to get the hummingbirds back down there."

I was at a loss. "Hummingbirds and tourism?" I asked. "Tourists come to McKean County to see hummingbirds?" I asked.

"Of course they don't!" he said. "Don't be ridiculous. No one travels hundreds of miles to see hummingbirds just like they don't travel hundreds of miles to come see our porch monkeys in Bradford either; but there are those like Dean Wormer who would have you believe that they do."

"Why?" I asked. "Why would they do that?"

"It all has to do with state funding and power. Tourism means state funding and state funding means another bureaucratic empire. Enter Senator William Sludge King Slocum. If he gets our tourist association subservient to Warren's, then the hummingbirds go next. Except for the fact that you are the single obstacle to the returning of the hummingbirds to Warren County. You've juiced them up to the point that they will never leave. They'll come back to Marshburg year after year and it is all because of you mixing the nectar on a one to one basis and cooking it. You have thrown the money wrench into the works. They hate you for it."

"What else is new?" I asked.

It was about that time I spotted several little bee like creatures at the feeders. Hovering nearby were pairs of hummingbirds. I drew closer and motioned for Jerry to come too. As I did I immediately recognized that what I was seeing were baby hummingbirds. The pairs had little babies and they were standing guard while they fed.

Moments later the parents ushered the tiny hummingbirds back to the safety of the trees. Jerry walked to the main feeder. "Watch this," he said.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Jerry was standing perfectly still with his nose at the base of the feeder. I watched as the hummingbirds returned and flew cautiously around his head. Then, only moments later, one landed on his nose and began feeding from the feeder. In an instant, it flew away.

Now a normal person would have laughed about the hummingbird landing on their nose and gone about the rest of their day. Not Jerry. No, being normal is not in his makeup. He stayed until another and another hummingbird landed on his nose and fed. It was when I saw the big one with the red band around his neck land on Jerry's nose that I suspected something just might happen. I was not disappointed.

"Damn it the hell anyway," Jerry roared as he jumped back from the feeder. "Why did he have to go and do that?" he asked angrily.

It was when Jerry turned to me that I saw what happened. I couldn't help laughing. It was funny. It was very funny even if it did happen to the one person who was responsible for bringing hummingbirds to McKean County in the first place.

On the bright side of things, we do have new additions to the hummingbird population. That's nice even if the Sludge King and the Attorney General are conspiring to take them away. As usual your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

JULY 13, 1999

Honoring our friends

Good morning. It's 52.2 degrees on a fog bound morning that promises to be a beautiful day a little later on. In the meantime, Joe Tehle will be buried today.

In the movie version of The Great Gatsby, the screen writer, Francis Ford Copula, took some artistic license with F.Scott Fitzgerald's work. It was regarding the passing of friends.

Meyer Wollfsheim, the man who allegedly fixed the 1919 World Series and business partner of Jay Gatsby, spoke of Rosy Rosenthal. He was a friend of Wolfsheim's who was gunned down outside the old Metropole restaurant. In the movie dialogue, absent from the book, Wolfsheirm calmly tells young Nick Carraway that: "We should honor our friends when they are alive, not after they are dead." However, the producer of The Godfather, seemed to add that forgotten thought of Fitzgerald's in a very appropriate vein. What seemed so true for the story of the twenties, could also be held to be true today.

Joe Tehle passed away on Saturday. He had been sick for a long time. Some would say this was a blessing - that his pain was over. Others, his family in particular, will miss him terribly.

People we know, we tend to take for granted. We imagine that they will always be there until that day when they aren't. I would have to say, in the the case of Joe, that would certainly hold true for me.

When I first came back to McKean County and bought the Rainbow Inn, it was Joe who became my mentor in the bar business. Joe had  few years on me and knew the ins and outs when it came to running a bar. Nearly every trip down the hill to town included a stop at the City Line and a beer or two with Joe and some advice on one thing or another. Joe was always there for me when I had a question.

During that time I watched his children grow up. J.D. was a high school kid who helped his dad out after school and on weekends. Jennifer had one hell of a fine wedding and was a beautiful bride. Pat, Joe's wife, while working as a nurse and raising her family, was in and out of the City Line, often frowning on the antics that were going on, but always a warm and kind lady. Jill, she was just a little girl who loved her daddy.

Joe and I did a few things together. We formed our own pool league when the other one seemed to have a problem accounting for money. We had a winter dart league, too. When a friend's daughter was dying of cancer, Joe and I engineered a golf tournament in the woods and raised several thousand dollars to help out with her costs. Later, that same summer, we did a volleyball tournament, too. We took nothing for ourselves, except the good feeling that we both got from doing something that was not required or asked for. We shared that between the two of us.

Then, as life does, people go in different directions. Joe was there at the City Line. It was me. I was the one off with my magazine, then running for office, and finally holding office. I didn't go down for the Saturday morning dart games anymore and I would see Joe only every three or four months. Even at that, Joe was still the same old Joe. Even in spite of the fact that he really didn't feel all that well, he always had a kind word. Joe always remained Joe right up to the end. In today's world, that says something about a man.

Now that he is gone there are things that I wish I would have done. I am sure that others who knew him and were his friends feel the same way. But, that's life. Death ends it and then we are not able to do anything else with that person. For that, I will feel sorry and I will feel the loss. In the meantime, all I can do is speak well of a friend who was always there for me.

He was a good man. He was a good father. He loved his wife and his children and he did the best he could to provide for them. He was far from perfect, but so are the rest of us. Still, the world will be missing something and someone who was special in his own way now that Joe Tehle is gone.

Meyer Wolfsheirm was right. "We should honor our friends when they are alive, not after they are dead." Perhaps the death of this one good man can serve as an example to all of us. Perhaps we can begin to honor one another now, not after we are gone.

Rest in peace, good friend. You will be missed and never forgotten.

Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

JULY 12, 1999

Serious matters

It was an interesting Saturday night at the Bradford Hotel. As soon as I arrived Dave Sheffer began complaining. He was sitting at the bar with Bill Peckham, the finest Chief of Police in the history of Bradford, PA and quite a fine Irish Tenor in his own right.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"Look at this place," he said. "Look at the customers."

I looked around the room. Welfare Wes, Toothless Tim, Lazy Lou, and Surly Sally were at a table in the corner. Each of them had just ordered another beer and the table had a dozen or so empty bottles on it. At the table next to them was Mark the Snitch, Mike the Mooch, Mattress Margie, and Loud mouth Louise. They also had fresh beers in front of them and a table full of empties.

"Are they paying for their beers with cash?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

"So what's the problem?" I asked. "It looks like you have a pretty fair night started."

Peckham spoke up at that point.

"He liked it better when David Poyer and Jim Buck used to hang out here with you. He likes it better when John Satterwhite and Grant Nichols are in for a night cap. He even likes it better when you bring Red Jacket and Cornplanter around to see your father in law."

I looked at Sheffer and shook my head. "Are you trying to run a bar or a coffee house here?" I asked. "With the exception of my father in law and the crowd he runs with, there isn't a drinker in the bunch. Poyer and Buck are the cheapest SOB's I've ever encountered. Have you ever known either one of them to ever buy a drink, even for themselves?" I asked.

"Well, no," Sheffer answered.

"John and Grant are great guys. Don't get me wrong. They will at least buy the bar a round and sip on one themselves, but you aren't going to pay the water bill on what they spend in here in a month."

Sheffer agreed with what I said.

"Then there's Red Jacket. Remember the last time we let him have three beers? Remember what happened?"

Sheffer shook his head.

Peckham began to laugh. "He didn't hurt anyone. He started that business with the skunk liver and went on down to the high rise and started knocking on doors trying to find a woman."

"I know," I said.

"Heck," Peckham said. "No one complained and he did make a few of them pretty happy."

"I remember," I said. "It was real cute until that woman who runs the place got wind of it and she came down on me like a ton of bricks. She wrote letters to The Bradford Era and called the Department of Indian Affairs in Washington. They were all over me. I was in some real trouble until they realized who we were talking about. They thought she was a real nut case complaining about Red Jacket, the Seneca War Chief who fought next to Cornplanter in the Revolutionary War. That was the only thing that saved me. Had they met the old coot, I'd be up to my neck in boiling oil ready to be tarred and feathered."

"You're right," Sheffer said. "It's just that I enjoy the high brow conversation. I enjoy the hearty exchange of ideas. This place was such a mental wasteland for so long and then it became the writers' colony. I enjoyed that. For awhile it even began to rub off on the rest of the customers. They discussed politics and the national economy and even began doing crossword puzzles. I was impressed. We did something more than just sit around and drink."

"Some people are never happy," I said to Billy Peckham.

It was about that time that Toothless Tim came up to the bar.

"Hey Bud," he said to me. "Did you happen to read Jim Eckstrom's editorial in The Era today? What a waste of ink! Why is it that everyone of them feel compelled to write those campy pieces. What a waste of space and ink. What's next? Jim Buck's first trip to a whore house?"

I couldn't help laughing.

About that time, Mattress Margie joined in. "Hasn't anyone on that staff ever read Thomas Wolfe? Don't they know You Can Never Go Home Again?"

That began quite a stir at both tables. Immediately the conversation moved to Judge Cleland ruling that Danny Cosper should be tried in Juvenile Court rather than as an adult.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Surly Sally asked. "That kid is supposed to have raped that other boy at gunpoint. I thought we had all these new laws that said if a kid commits a crime using a gun that kid gets tried as an adult. What happens to laws like that up here? Do they only apply in big cities?"

"Hell," Lazy Lou added. "If a kid shoots you with a gun you are just as dead as if you get shot by an adult. And that's one hell of a way to get sex - at gun point."

Mike the Mooch spoke up. " I agree with Assistant DA John Pavlock. I'm glad he's appealing Cleland's decision. I'm sorry the kid was molested when he was ten. That still doesn't make it right that he rapes another kid at gun point. Two wrongs don't make a right. I don't care what Addis and Fokstuen say. What the hell is wrong with Cleland anyway? The next time this kid could kill some one."

"And where's the District Attorney we all voted for to be running things during all of this?" Surly Sally asked. "Why hasn't she taken the lead? Is she off at knitting school or is this another case where there's a conflict? This is a bunch of bull. We pay her the big bucks and we never hear from her.

I looked at Sheffer."What do you have to say about this?" I asked.

Before he answered, a small voice from the bar spoke up. The voice wasn't loud, but it was powerful. It was powerful in what it said.

"I know all about Judge Cleland and the District Attorney in cases like this," she said. "Michele Alfieri promised me I'd get justice when I was raped. The Judge and Jeff Duke dealt my justice away. Jeff Duke got on Good Morning America and they made me into a laughing stock. The rich boys over at the club got to the judge and they found the loop hole in the law. He walked away.

"Then Jeff Duke felt bad about the whole thing, or so he said. He sent me over to Warren to see his buddy. He was going to sue for me. What he did was get me to trust him and then allow the time to expire and let the guy walk away. It was nothing but a big set up to keep me quiet. It worked, and here I am. Everyone got what they wanted. Everyone but me. I never mattered. I was a piece of meat."

She looked directly at me. "You said it, Bud. You said the Judge never met a rapist or a child molester he didn't feel sorry for. Why doesn't he feel sorry for the victims, too?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered. "You'll have to ask him that question. I don't understand myself."

At that point she walked out of the bar and into the night. I looked at Dave and asked him if this was the kind of dialogue he wanted. He stood silent and said nothing at first. Then he answered.

"No," he said. "I think we were better off before."

I was forced to agree.

Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

JULY 10 & 11, 1999

A tribute to a good man

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: The following was written by Tom Clark.

Goodbye Louie...R.I.P.

The Twin Tiers lost a extraordinary businessman and good friend this
past week when Louis Marra, Jr. died from injuries received in a car
crash on High Street in Bradford.

I first met Louie when his family owned Casey's in Limestone at the same time that my family owned the Limestone Grill. Louie and his waitresses would always stop into the Grill after the closing the restaurant for the night. Although the gals would sometimes "close the place down", Louie would usually stay for one of two quick drinks and head back to Olean.

He was one of the nicest people to ever walk in the doors and would always buy a drink for everyone at the bar when he arrived. Louie and I would talk about everything, from personal life to business. The man had a sharp business mind, as evidenced by his success.

The Olean Times Herald ran an article on Saturday quoting many of his friends and associates on his dedication as a businessman and a father. More so than just eulogizing the man and bringing back memories of our friendship, I realized something else from the article. The Marras have been on the Olean business scene for quite some time and have developed a network of friends and associates, some are even competitors.

When I read the article, I discovered that Olean has a crucial cog in their community that is sorely lacking in Bradford, the
sense of community and the ability of business people to share ideas and work together for a common economic cause. If only Bradford had a few Louie Marras, Anthony Fratercangelos and Tom Palumbos, people who are willing to share their ideas and help their fellow merchants to make their communities better as a whole.

Bradford's "Me, me, me" business owners would never support this attitude.

Thank you, Louie, for what you did as a friend, a father and an
important member of the community. We're gonna miss you.

As usual your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

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