The Publisher's Page BY HAROLD T. BECK

AUGUST 21 - AUGUST 27, 1999

AUGUST 27, 1999

The public trust

"It's only money," Billy Peckham, the great Irish tenor and finest Chief of Police in the history of Bradford, PA,  said to me.

"I know," I answered. "I know."

I was staring down at the bar shaking my head. The whole thing wore me out.

"He's been like this for hours," Cornplanter said to Dave Sheffer, proprietor of the Bradford Hotel.

"I called his house. I told Sue to get his father-in-law to come down and collect him. We can't let him go out like this."

About that time Sally joined in the conversation. "Like what?" she demanded. "You make it sound like he's been over served. All he's had is orange juice!"

"Orange juice!" Welfare Wes said. "No vodka? No rum? No tequila?"

"No," Sally said. "Straight orange juice! That's all he's had."

"What's wrong with orange juice?" I asked.

"Nothing," Peckham said. "And I knew he wasn't drunk," he said to the rest of the bar. Maybe if you all are going to eaves drop, you should get in closer and listen to exactly what's being said. If you had, you would know that what Bud said was if he started drinking right now he would get drunk in no time. He hadn't eaten and was really beat. That along with the sham of a final inspection on the T-hanger at the airport has really depressed him."

"What about the T-hanger?" Wes asked. "Are you talking about the new one that Dick Kessel wanted and built?"

"Yes," I answered. "That's the one. What a joke!" I said. "And the joke is on me."

"That's the one you called the Sea Plane Hanger," Red Jacket said.

"Yes," I said to the old chief. "I thought that Dick Kessel would take the hint and make it right. He hasn't. It still leaks. It was leaking today when I was up there for the final inspection with PennDot."

"What's PennDot got to do with it?" Cornplanter asked.

"What's PennDot?" Welfare Wes asked.

"Pennsylvania Department of Transportation," Grant Nichols, Publisher and Editor of The Bradford Journal, said. "They are in charge of our roads and our airports."

"They do a lousy job," Toothless Tim added. "Elk County has better roads than we do. They don't spend any money here unless Bud causes trouble like he did about Routes 770 and 59. Look at them! He raised cane and now we have good roads there."

"They gave us half the money for the T-hanger," I said.

"Where did you get the other half?" Tim asked.

"We borrowed it from the bank," I said.

"How much did it cost altogether?" Sheffer asked.

"Upwards to about $400,000," I answered.

"And the job isn't right?" Wes asked.

"No," I said in response.

"That's a pile of bull," he roared.

"I know," I said.

"What did PennDot say about it?" Sally asked me.

I stared down at my orange juice and shook my head. I didn't look up as I answered. I just muttered: "Nothing."

"Nothing!" Tim said. "Why?"

"It seems like its no big thing to them. It isn't their money so they don't care."

"Wait a minute," Cornplanter asked. "The hanger still leaks after a year and they don't care?"

"No," I said. "And that's not the half of it. There are big puddles of water with the little rain we had today in the middle of the taxi way that they built. That's called bird bathing and PennDot and our engineer say its nothing."

"What do you say?" Sheffer asked.

"I say that's not the way it was designed and it should be fixed."

"Well," Dave said. "We have given you our trust. It is you job to see it through. Go do it."

"Yes," Red Jacket said. "That's called the public trust. You have to stick up for it. If you don't, no one else will. Everyone else is worried about what people will think of them. They're worried about whose toes they step on. If you don't say it, no one else will. You have to."

I shook my head and looked up at Sally. "Give me another orange juice," I said.

Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

AUGUST 26, 1999

The silver Cadillac

I was repairing some storm damage at the Rainbow Inn last night. I had finished around nine, collected my tools, and was going out to the car. As I came off the steps and started for my car, the lights in a big Cadillac suddenly came on. It startled me. It was like a scene from a movie about the mob. Was this a hit?

You can imagine my relief when I heard the familiar voice of Chief Red Jacket.

"Bud! Over here," he called out. "Come over here and see what I just got."

I walked over to the car. It was sure big enough. It was a 1985 silver Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham and it had all the trimmings.

"How do you like it?" Red Jacket asked me.

"I like it a lot," I said. "What happened to the red pickup?"

"I traded it. Chris gave me a great trade in. He said pickups were up in price since the flood and now that winter is on its way everyone will want one. I was thinking about going to Florida or Arizona for the winter and I wanted something a little more comfortable to travel in."

"Well that sure looks comfortable," I said.

"It is," a female voice said from the back seat.

I looked into the car to see who was talking when I recognized a familiar face from the Senior Center.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello," Mary said back to me. "Isn't this nice?"

"Yes it is,"I said. "It sure is."

"Get in," Red Jacket said. "I have to take Mary home and I'll take you for a ride."

Everyone was already asleep at my house so after I put my tools in my car, I got in and rode with the chief. We took Mary back to Bradford and I marveled at how nice a car Red Jacket bought. It was really nice.

"Chris gave me a great deal," he said. "He got the car from their lot in Erie and brought it down for me. I just love it."

"You should," I said. "It really is nice."

We dropped Mary off and the chief drove over to the Bradford Hotel.

"I'll buy you one," the chief said. "I'm driving so I'll drink coffee. I'll be the designated driver tonight."

I agreed and as we entered the Hotel we saw a lot of familiar faces. My father-in-law, George, was there with Rod and Ed. They were leaning against the bar at one end while Billy Peckham, the great Irish tenor and the finest Police Chief in the history of Bradford, was at the other end talking to Grant Nichols and Dave Sheffer. Welfare Wes and Bad Bob were at a table in the corner while Toothless Tim and Mattress Margie were at another in the other corner. Cornplanter and his two wives were at one between them.

I said hello to George, Rod and Ed. I said hi to the fellows at the other end. Wes ignored me and Margie and Tim were engrossed in their own conversation and didn't see us enter. We went over and sat with Cornplanter.

"You look tired, Bud," Cornplanter said to me.

"I am," I admitted.

We talked about Red Jacket's car for awhile before the conversation turned to the flood.

"Did you read the paper today?" Cornplanter asked me.

"I did," I said.

"They tried to make you out to be a liar. They never mentioned what you had done to help. They gave everyone credit except you."

"I read that."

"So what do you think?"

"People say things," I said. "They change things too."

About that time Tim and Margie pulled their chairs over to join us.

"You did a great job getting the Feds here to look at the damage, Bud," he said.

"Thanks," I said. "I appreciate that."

"Why didn't The Era give you credit for that? Margie asked.

"Maybe you should ask them. Maybe you should call Marty and ask her," I said. "When the Vice President's Office acknowledged my letters to him and told me FEMA was in the area as a result of that and other requests, I called and told her. I went around and told the people I visited on Saturday and Sunday that they were in the area and offered my assistance once more."

"Then why didn't The Era say that?" Billy Peckham asked.

"Again, you have to ask them," I answered.

Red Jacket was interested in the conversation. "How did they try to make you out to be a liar?" he asked.

"By ignoring how Bud was the only official to go around individually during the flood," Cornplanter said. "It's funny how things change between Saturday afternoon and Tuesday night. On Saturday Bud was a great guy. Everyone was happy to see him. By Tuesday night everyone had forgotten."

"People say things and they don't," I said. "They're afraid. They don't know what's in the future. Businesses are in shambles. They don't know who they are going to need."

"I probably should have left the whole thing alone. It was bad judgement on my part. No big thing."

"It is a big thing," Red Jacket insisted. "It's called integrity. They sold you out."

"I'm not going to let that bother me, nor am I going to let the other thing about FEMA bother me, either. I know what I did. That's what is important. FEMA is here and we are now at least on the list to maybe get money. It's important that we do. I'm not going to stop doing what I've been doing no matter how many people turn on me. It's not whether someone else gets the credit for what I've done.  It's that we get the help. That's what's important."

" How can you trust the news when they don't tell you the real story. That stinks," Welfare Wes said.

I sat there and said nothing. I let them go on. They would have whether I joined in or not. I was tired. And honestly, my feelings were hurt, too. Oh well. That's life at the Bradford Hotel.

Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

AUGUST 25, 1999

Our area's waterways

I like columns like this one. They take little effort on my part beyond posting, editing, and the such.

Today we have two submissions from readers. One is from our guest columnist, Tom Clark. We have saved him for last, considering the seriousness of the first.

Guilty plea over polluting a creek

Saturday, August 21, 1999

By Don Hopey, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

A sewage treatment plant operator in Youngsville, Warren County, has pleaded guilty in federal court to conspiring to discharge raw sewage into Brokenstraw Creek.

The guilty plea by John Martin, 38, of Youngsville, was entered just five weeks after the federal indictment of state Sen. William Slocum Jr. on similar criminal pollution charges.

Slocum, 51, who was Youngsville borough foreman and borough manager when the creek pollution occurred, pleaded not guilty. His trial is scheduled to begin Nov. 1, according to Leon Rodriguez, first assistant U.S. attorney in Pittsburgh.

Martin pleaded guilty to conspiring with unnamed others to discharge untreated sewage directly into Brokenstraw Creek for a 6 1/2 year period ending in August 1994.

Usually, such a plea indicates that the accused is agreeing to cooperate with investigators. Rodriguez refused to say if Martin was cooperating, if others would be charged or if the investigation was continuing.

According to a statement issued by the U.S. attorney's office yesterday, Martin and others caused raw sewage to bypass the treatment plant, failed to remove sludge from the plant, failed to monitor sewage flow, tampered with monitoring equipment and filed false reports about the amount of sewage discharged from the plant.

For those violations of the federal Clean Water Act, Martin faces a maximum penalty of up to seven years in prison and a fine of $500,000. Sentencing is scheduled for Nov. 1. State Department of Environmental Protection inspections of the Youngsville sewage plant from 1992 through 1995 found a persistent pattern of pollution in the creek, a popular bass and trout fishing stream, that empties into the Allegheny River south of Warren. Warren County is on Pennsylvania's northern border just east of Erie and Crawford counties.

The inspections regularly found the creek bed and banks coated with sewage for up to 300 yards below the treatment facility's discharge pipe.

Sludge removal and record keeping were repeatedly found wanting.

A sewage monitor, which measured sewage coming into the plant, was broken in April 1992 and not fixed until 1996.

A state Fish and Boat Commission review found that the discharges harmed fish and other aquatic life.

The DEP made a criminal referral to the state attorney general's office in late 1995, documenting repeated violations of the state Clean Streams Law and federal discharge permits.

Attorney General Michael Fisher declined to pursue the case, stating in a November 1997 letter to the DEP that there was insufficient evidence to charge either the borough or any individual.

Fisher, like Slocum, is a Republican. Both were elected to their current posts in 1996.

The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency's Criminal Investigation Division picked up the case, resulting in both the grand jury indictment of Slocum and Martin's plea.

Slocum has denied he did anything wrong, blaming the creek pollution on rain that overloaded the treatment plant, necessitating the discharges.

If convicted on all seven counts in the indictment returned by a federal grand jury in July, Slocum faces a maximum prison term of 32 years and fines totaling $2.5 million.

Publisher's Comment: I told you so!

And now from Tom Clark, plan your weekend accordingly.

Mutant BeachFest '99

"Grab your balls and head to the beach!" This catchy little slogan
will be echoed throughout the Tuna Valley as the Mutant BeachFest '99 kicks off this Thursday. The tenth annual, four day festival was
originally a celebration for those who won't work and, by law, are not
allowed to observe Labor Day.

The BeachFest has evolved into a gala that rivals the McKean County Fair's exciting blend of social, cultural and sporting events. The popular Miss Mutant Beach Bikini Contest and the Eastern Northwest Pennsylvania Welfare Beach Volleyball Championships headline a weekend of fun and entertainment.

For the second year, cash will be accepted, as well as the preferred
state-issued Access card, at all admissions gates, attractions and
vendors booths. Since opening the BeachFest to non-Public Welfare
recipients, organizers of the event have been able to expand the
activities offered.

Thursday's exciting slate starts with the Mutant BeachFest's Mothers Parade, starting on Brookline Court, following Barbour Street to South Center Street and ending at the Main Stage. All mothers are invited to participate in the parade with as many of their children as they can round up.

The Bikini Contest follows immediately after the parade and features some of the "finest babes in the projects", according to Peter Gozinia, this year's parade Grand Marshall. Gozinia is the Executive Director of WhyWork?, a Public Welfare advocacy group based in Bradford.

On Friday morning, the volleyball tournament and Jet-Ski races begin with preliminary rounds. Later that evening, a large crowd of dentally-challenged country music fans will pack the Main Stage Amphitheater for a concert featuring Chuck Wagon and the Wheels. The Nashville-based recording artists are currently enjoying a chart topping single, "Hold Me Closer, Sis".

The semi-final rounds of the volleyball and Jet-Ski competitions will start Saturday morning, as well as the opening rounds of the Mutant Games, an Olympic-style event that features some of the finest Welfare recipient athletes in the world. The four man Check Day Relay features a grueling dash that starts on South Center Street to Northwest Savings Bank, then across the street to the Uni-Mart, over to Gleason's Distributing and back to the Main Stage.

All Mutant Games events will be started by Angel Rogowski, Miss Mutant Beach '95, who released the following statement, "It's a great honor to be associated with these fine athletes. I think I have kids by a few of them". She said that five former Miss Mutant Beach pageant winners will be in attendance. Notably missing will be last year's winner, who was stripped of her title when she gained meaningful employment.

When the sun sets on Saturday, the kegs will roil out for the Mutant BeachFest Drunken Debauchery and Free-For-All, a popular event that highlights public intoxication, disorderly conduct and simple assaults. As usual, all participants will be immune from prosecution.

Sunday wraps up the BeachFest with the championship rounds in all
sporting events. Those who have no reason to get out of bed on Monday are invited to drink any remaining beer at no charge. All participants however, must be off the festival grounds by noon on Monday, so that tax-paid City workers may clean up the enormous mess left behind.

The Mutant BeachFest '99 also features carnival rides, games. shows,
food booths and numerous other attractions throughout the four day
gala. Further details, including all event times and ticket information, are available at the organizers office at 6 South Center Street, by calling 1-800-RELIEFR or on line at www.mutantbeach.com. .

Publisher's Comment: I want to take this opportunity to thank Tom Clark for giving us a fine overview of the planned events, and I also want to recognize the Allegheny National Forest Vacation Bureau, Linda Devlin, and The Bradford Area Alliance, specifically Chris (the cat hater) Hauser for planning this event. This is tourism at its best in the Bradford area.

AUGUST 24, 1999

Requiem for a know it all

It wasn't especially pleasant sitting through the hearing yesterday watching my friend Greg Henry take the candidacy of John Reetz and destroy it. It didn't please me in the least. I walked away feeling a little dirty from the proceedings.

I had no part in challenging the petitions that John submitted to the Election Board. He wanted to be on the ballot in November as an Independent and run for County Commissioner. Even though I have been the main target for his attacks, it was Larry Stratton who decided that the faults in his petitions should be exploited and Reetz knocked out of the process.

I've written about John Reetz in a column I named Meet John Reetz. I pointed out that depending on the time of the day and the number of bars he had visited to that point would dictate what he said and what he stood for.

Early in the day for example, John might talk about deficit spending. He is against borrowing money to get out of debt. I have always agreed with him on that subject.

That invariably will spill over to his resentment of my generation - The Baby Boomer Generation -and how we have had everything given to us and how we don't know real hardship. He will point to credit cards and how much each of us owe and how we have no savings. The only good Baby Boomers, according to John, are his children, who, according to him, are all millionaires in their own right.

By now John will have consumed four or five beers and will have impressed the morning crowd by setting them up several times. John wants you to think he has money. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Who cares, really? If he does, I am surprised that he hasn't joined, or been invited to join Chris Hauser and the boys in the Bradford Area Alliance. (Maybe its the public drinking that has kept him out. What do you think?)

Around noon time John will change bars. He has impressed the morning crowd long enough and it is time to catch the incoming lunch crowd. New ears means that if all else fails and he can't generate any interest in how incompetent the current Board of Commissioners are, then he can fall back on deficit spending.

John will order something to eat. And he will consume four or five more beers. As the lunch crowd goes back to work, it is a new bar for him. Now he is really ready to hold court.

Well into the afternoon John begins to expound on his extensive knowledge and education. He will tell us about the oil business, the stock market, the National Debt, and how to buy and sell currency. He will tell us what is wrong with our county and he will conveniently ignore what is right about it.

Now his favorite phrases will sneak into his vocabulary.

"You people don't have a clue," he will say. "You don't have any idea of what you are doing. You people....."

Now, unless you want to be in that you people category, you will agree with him. That won't win any respect from him. He just won't openly attack you in the bar room for disagreeing with him.

As the afternoon turns into evening, John will seek out a lounge that has ladies present. It is there that his prostate will inevitably become the center of discussion. Before Viagra, John used to delight in telling women about it and ask their opinion as to whether or not he should have an operation or an implant to cure his problem.

He did this to my mother one Saturday evening only three months after my father passed away. His actions and his rudeness resulted in my banning him from the Rainbow Inn for all time. Just as he showed no respect to my mother, John has little respect for anyone beyond himself and his children. We all are you people to him.

Still, even with my disgust at the condescending attitude that he exhibits. Even though I disagree with his alcoholism. And even considering that I have been his main target, something about yesterday left me cold. Maybe it was the fact he is eighty years old and Larry and Greg were beating him up. I'm not sure.

What would it have hurt to let him stay in the process? Why was Larry Stratton so adamant about getting him out? Did Larry imagine that he posed a threat to his re-election? Personally, I would have believed that if John was going to take votes away from anyone, it would have been me. He's never forgiven me for throwing him out of the Rainbow.

John represented himself and he represented himself poorly. He looked like a doddering old man who did not know what he was doing or why he was there. That bothered me. It wasn't the John Reetz I have known. It was someone who was showing the effects of age and the continuous consumption of alcohol.

Without even mentioning the fatal flaws in what he did when he attempted to get his name on the ballot, needless to say he was unprepared and very inadequate for the job. Lucky for John he won't learn like I have for the last four years that as much as you want to change things, they do have a way of staying the same.

Even if you do win a few points, you have to be especially vigilant that they do not slip back to where they were before you came along. And as political alliances change, the support you had yesterday just may not be there tomorrow. It isn't easy fighting for change against the way things have always been done. No, unless through some miracle John can mount a massive write in campaign, he won't have the chance to find that out. And really, in that one aspect, John should count his blessings.

Comment on this at redhedbud@penn.com. 

AUGUST 23, 1999

The human side of it all

To the people of Bradford, PA the drought of 1999 was just a story on the national news every night. Tucked away in a peaceful valley surrounded by treed hills (mountains by most standards) there has been no rationing of water or even the talk of it. The Marilla Reservoir was still pretty full and the once a week thunderstorm kept the grass green and the gardens still growing.

When it started raining about nine on Thursday night most people thought it was well deserved. The stock car races at the County Fair had to be stopped but even the disappointed race fans knew that the rain was long over due. Everyone settled in for the night and even the distant sound of thunder seemed to let us sleep just a little better than we had the night before.

Most people woke on Friday morning to the news that certain parts of Bradford were flooded. Even the people who lived on the flooded streets took it in stride. The waters had come before and they had gone. Three, four inches of rain does back up a bit. Oh well. They saw it as a minor inconvenience. And it was. By nine everything was back to normal

It was a cool day. The temperature was in the high sixties. The sky was overcast for the most part. Around one the sun tried to peak out but it turned out to be only a flirtation. Then the air grew still and the sky to the west darkened. We had seen it many times, and even with the minor flooding of that morning, most people knew that we needed what appeared to be on the way. No one anticipated what happened next.

Normally weather moves in an leaves. Living where we do most of our moisture comes out of the west associated with frontal systems or lake effect storms off Lake Erie. That was not the case. This storm was different.

The storm that came developed a little to the northwest of Bradford, almost over the Allegheny Reservoir. It moved up the valley and over the hill to the city. Then about two in the afternoon it began to rain. And did it ever rain!

It rained and it rained and it rained. The storm did not move; instead it grew in size. Centered over Bradford it expanded over the surrounding hills and forest.

For the next seven hours it was raining either in Bradford or somewhere in the immediate vicinity. As much as sixteen inches of rain would fall in some places. The official recorded amount at the airport was nine inches.

The hills surrounding the city, the ground hardened from two years of drought, did not absorb the water. They couldn't. It came too fast and too hard.

Twelve miles away on top of one of those hills in Marshburg I was in my car sitting out the initial blast of the storm.It rained so hard visibility on the roads was down to three or four feet and only the very stupid kept driving. Anyone with any sense pulled off and waited.

The wait was a long one. That first downpour lasted twenty to thirty minutes. Just when it seemed that it was going to let up it came down again with all that much more intensity. We had no way of knowing that the storm was not going away. How could we? It was on us and it was staying.

The rains in Marshburg, like the rains in Rew and up West Washington Street, and even out Interstate Parkway kept falling. It was in that first thirty minute period that the fate of the town below was sealed. There was just too much water in too short a time. And, it was all going to run down hill. It did and went right into Bradford.

Tina and Dale Phillips were working on a big order in the Window Shop. Clayt Troutman had just pulled a car into his body shop. Jim Connolley was going to change the oil in a classic Corvette that had been sitting in a garage for the past twenty years. This was the first time it had been on the road since the seventies. The day shift was ending at Dresser and KOA Speer, and a salesman was finishing up the paper work on a new car delivery at Race Buick. Mary, a widow on a fixed income, had just finishing canning seven jars of green beans and started down her basement steps. That was when the waters came.

At first it was a film of water an inch or so deep. It ran down off the hills choosing its own path, going where it wanted. It ran through flower gardens, crossed roads, and went down driveways. It crossed parking lots and found the storm sewers. They filled in a hurry and the torrent emptying into the system that had protected Bradford since its last flood in 1946 was soon overwhelmed. By three o'clock everyone knew that this storm and the waters that came with it was unlike anything we had ever seen.

The inch deep film of water without any warning turned into a three foot wall of water. Instead of just choosing its own path, it now created its own and swept anything in its path away. 

Huge garage doors were crushed by the weight of the rushing water. Entire parking lots were lifted and washed away. Without any warning water rushed through the enormous electronics components warehouse and swept away the entire inventory. Auto Parts stores, cocktail lounges, restaurants, and even DC's Army Navy Store felt the effects.Water made its way into nearly every building in the city.

The cafeteria at the hospital flooded and the administration declared a "Code Blue" emergency which kept all available personnel on the job and preparing for the worst. The Mayor of Bradford declared an emergency and banned all unnecessary travel. That only intrigued the residents to go out and see what was going on.

What could have been the worst of all situations miraculously was only property damage. The roof at Parkview Supermarket collapsed at the height of the storm. Fortunately, as the ceiling tiles began to fall to the floor, the customers and the employees evacuated the store barely making it to safety before the structure gave way.

The streets filled with water. As much as six feet of water filled low lying areas at any given time. The town was paralyzed and the rain kept falling.

What do you do when you dream of starting your own business, watch that dream become a reality, struggle with the day to day problems, and just when things begin to come together, are struck with an act of God like this?

As the waters that were now carrying with them muck and debris that was ladened with crude oil from the refinery and the stench of natural gas washed through the Window Shop, Tina Phillips watched her hard work float out the back door. Finished thermal pane windows, sealed to be air tight. floated on the rushing water until something struck them with enough force to smash the glass. An order, an entire month of work, calmly floated out the door and down stream, taking dreams and hopes with them.

Even as the waters subsided at Clayt's Body Shop and they finally left the plants, The Window Shop stayed under water. The street outside was a state maintained road. When natural gas began bubbling up out of the ground and Dale Phillips and his neighbors began calling for help, that was when the finger pointing began.

The police and the city road crews pointed to the state. The state arrived and said they didn't have any equipment. Finally the Fire Chief arrived, admitted it was natural gas, said there was nothing he could do beyond calling the gas company.

Dale, his family and his friends took matters into their own hands. They worked non-stop to keep the storm drains open. As fast as they would clear them, mud and debris would cover them over and the water would back up again.

Women and men alike worked through the evening and into the early hours of the morning until four a.m. to keep the drains open. That was the only way the water could go away. Thirty-nine inches of water filled the office destroying records and receipts. Dale's wallet was swept away but the little group of people never abandoned their posts at the storm drains. Finally, after nearly thirteen hours of hell, the waters were gone. That was when the real work began.

What does Mary do? She has four feet of mud in her basement. Her furnace, only recently installed, will never work again and the cold weather is only thirty days away. Where will she get the three of four thousand dollars it will take to replace it?

What about the Window Shop? Or Clayt's Body Shop; or Marv Race's automobile dealership? Where will they get the money to clean up, or replace what was damaged or lost? What about the little guy? What is he supposed to do?

It's one thing when PennDot, The City of Bradford, and the Fire Chief himself turn their back on you while the disaster is going on. You can almost understand the City and the State pointing fingers at one another. And, you can almost see Chief Peterson turning his back on you, too. But now, where is the money supposed to come from?

All I've been told is that the Small Business Administration will come in and make two to three percent loans available for the businesses who have sustained damages. What does that do for Mary? And, what does that do for the people who already have loans on the equipment that they lost? Are they supposed to pay off two loans?

Grant money from the Federal Government is made available only when a large part of a state is hit by a disaster. President Clinton is already doing that for the Texas coastal areas hit by Hurricane Brett. What went on in Bradford on Friday was and is every bit as devastating to the people affected as the rice farmers and cattle ranchers in Texas. If Federal monies can be made available to them, then certainly Federal Funding should pour into our area.

We have three municipalities that have suffered in excess of twelve million dollars in damages.A new bridge in Foster Township has been totally destroyed. They saved for years to be able to replace that bridge and now it is all for nothing. The City of Bradford will need years to recover from the costs of this storm as will Bradford Township. Whole roads have been washed away. Where is the difference between Bradford and the areas affected by Hurricane Brett?

As I went from business to business, house to house on Saturday morning and afternoon I heard the same thing. "Where will we get the money to fix all of this?"

No one was looking for a hand out. No one was looking for charity. Still, when we read in the newspaper that the United States is sending billions to Russia, most recently to fix their computers for Y2K, and then we hear about a billion dollar Russian money laundering scheme through the Bank of New York with that money, we wonder why there might not be a few crumbs for us?

In the meantime, with winter approaching, Mary is still wondering how she will heat her house and Tina is wondering if it is even worth it to keep her doors open. This state spends millions of dollars to attract business so they will create jobs. If the Window Shop goes out of business, five in the business will cease to exist and another ten will go just because they were their suppliers. How much is that worth?

And what about Mary? She's seventy-nine. Should she go to a nursing home and become a ward of the state? At four to five thousand a month for care, wouldn't you think half of that for a new furnace might not be a good investment? But what would I know? I only got my feet muddy on Saturday. I didn't have to clean up the mess and I don't have to worry about paying off  loans on equipment that floated away. My furnace still works. So I guess it really isn't my problem. Or is it?

Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.  

AUGUST 21 & 22, 1999

From our Guest Columnist, Tom Clark, we have the following:

Y2Krapola

Massive blackouts will occur as power grids around the world shut down. The FAA's Air Traffic Control System will fail, causing catastrophic mid-air collisions. Those with electricity will not be able to use their VCRs, PCs or programmable toasters. Worst of all, beehive hairdos will be back in style (OK, I made that one up).

12:00am, January 1, 2000. All of the above, except the hairdo thing, will happen, unless the cybergeeks who started this doom watch can fix the world's computers before the Big Day. Y2K compliance is a billion dollar cottage industry born from the public's paranoia of an inevitable Armageddon.

Otherwise normal people are so fearful of the approaching calendar change that they are stocking up on ammo, survival gear and dried foods, ready to hunker down in their damp
basements for the rest of eternity. My preparations are nothing more than looking for a good spot to sit and watch the impending End Of The World.

Since I plan on ushering in the New Years in B-town, I want my fellow revelers to be confident that life in Bradford, as we know it, will continue and that the most essential goods and services will remain a constant in the New Year.

First and foremost, an unnamed source at the Department of Public Welfare assured me that all Assistance checks will be mailed early and Access cards will remain valid at all locations. I could only imagine my pity for the bottom feeders at the Country Fair or Parkview Supermarket if they couldn't purchase their Porterhouse steaks and junk food on New Year's Day.

Next on my list was Jose at the Riddell House. "Our juke box and pool tables are Y2K compliant, as well as our draft beer system. I don't foresee a problem on January 1, since half the people in here never know what day it is anyway." Jose plans to carry a two week supply of Milwaukee's Best, Black Velvet and Beef jerky, "just in case".

On to see Mike Dolan at Ott & McHenry Pharmacy. "As far as I know, there shouldn't be any Y2K problems with birth control pills. And the Preparation H people have told me that their products will be compliant."

John Giordano of the Corydon Township Bingo Hall is confident the Y2K scare will not affect their games. He suggests that you test your bingo markers before coming to the first bingo game of the New Year. "I'd hate to see some old lady lose a jackpot because her marker wasn't compliant."

Busty Hearts, that fun-filled strip joint to the east of us, will be
business as usual, even if the lights go out. A regular customer, who would only identify himself as Booger, told me it may be for the better if the electricity fails. "Hell, them broads ain't near as ugly in the dark. Can't even see their stretch marks."

Sonny Redbuttfeather at the Seneca Smoke Shop said there will be an abundance of cigs and pull tab games on New Year's Day. He said that he can get his merchandise under any circumstances. When I asked him, "how", he picked me up and threw me out of the store.

All of the local pizza shops are confident that deliveries will be
unaffected. And, finally, Charlie Work will be shoveling snow off the Main Street sidewalks so that Helen Cramer can make her appointed rounds.

There you have it, folks, life in Bradford and the surrounding
areas will go on, despite what the Nervous Nells of Computer Geekdom would have you believe. I, for one, am going to enjoy the final days of the 1900's and anxiously await the excitement of a new Millennium.

And, if the worriers and pessimists are correct and the world does, in fact, end, I'll just hole up in the Riddell House. Save me a bar stool, Jose.

Publishers comment: There you have it folks. Our local Bard has given us his read on the impending doom and dilemma we all face. How do you see it?

Until later, your comments are still welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

---

If you have a comment on this article please click here.

[ Top ]  [ Home ]