NOVEMBER 20 - NOVEMBER 26, 1999
NOVEMBER 26, 1999
Jack the Bear lives!
I have been experiencing difficulties with the web host this morning. I am sorry about
the delay in posting this article.
From the title you guessed it. Jack made it through the three day
hunting season for bears.
At 2:05 this morning, our new puppy, Rocky, woke up the house. Rocky,
who sleeps in a kennel until he learns proper household manners, did not
like something that was going on around him. When I switched on the
outside light, there was the source of Rocky’s displeasure. Jack the
Bear.
Jack was in the back yard at the fence line checking out some building materials I had
piled up. The wood must have had an appetizing smell for him. He was pushing it around and
licking certain boards. When the light came on he stood up on his hind legs and let me
know he was still around.
"Of course you are, Jack," I said out loud. "There was never a doubt in
my mind. I knew you would make it. Just take it easy on the messes you will make in the
next twelve months. Okay?"
Jack didn’t answer me. He ignored me as he usually does and calmly
walked off into the forest.
Rocky’s barking got the old dog, sixteen year old Willie, up, who
also began barking. I opened the door and let the two of them out. They
huffed and puffed around the yard. Peed a lot just to let Jack know whose
yard it really was, and then came back in and went to sleep.
That left me up watching television and thinking about my day.
Thiis picture speaks for itself. Rocky is kissing Sharyn and Kim is holding Sam. There
was a whole lot of this kind of stuff going on all day. What is Thanksgiving supposed to
be about anyway? Babies and small dogs are good enough for me. How about you? Then there
were a few other moments worth remembering here.
What more can anyone say beyond the picture itself?
And here are four generations. Great Granny Winnie holding Sam. Granny Sharyn to the
right; and Kim to the left. What a day. What more is there except for the great meal
Sharyn made!
Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
NOVEMBER 25, 1999
HAPPY THANKSGIVING!
NOVEMBER 24, 1999
John Cleland is a rat, a sneak, and a liar
Good morning. It is still a balmy 55.8 degrees at 5:56 A.M. Tomorrow is
Thanksgiving and the title of this article speaks for itself.
Did he, or did he not, send Jay Paul Kahle a notification of the hearing he set for
Monday, November 22, 1999?
The Bradford Era, negligent in reporting about JFK's assassination as well as
a long overdue raid on the Option House for serving minors, was quick to point out that
Jay was guilty as charged.
"Lawyer a no-show for hearing." It was a simple heading with no by line and
factually reported from Cleland's side. Why am I not surprised?
Ever since I first met Jay Paul Kahle, I knew he hunted during bear season. I always
knew that those three days were blocked out of his schedule. So does John Cleland.
Isn't it odd that such a compelling matter like motions in the case of administrative
fees collected by the county from the timber harvest money had to be heard the first day
of bear season?
Isn't it odd that the high priced, now state employed Court Administrator did not
communicate by the phone to notify the parties involved?
Isn't it odd that the same over paid Court Administrator did not communicate by mail to
the parties involved?
Isn't it odd that the method of communication involved wasn't e-mail even though she
spends much of her time playing on the internet at tax payers expense?
What was the method of communication? A fax which is not a legal verification of
anything when you come down to proving that anything was ever sent. Any one or all of the
other methods I mentioned, which she chose not to use, would have been; but she, for some
reason, chose to fax the notification. Does something smell funny to you? It does to me.
Now the Court Administrator, who I have been picking on, did not do this on her own.
No. She did what she did (not notify Kahle) at the express direction of her boss, Judge
Johnny Cleland.
So why did Cleland resort to such a low down slimy tactic?
The answer is simple. As of January 1st I am gone from the Court House. Cleland has
already embarrassed Kahle in Tax Assessment Cases. Now he is the subject of Kahle asking
him to remove himself from the case in question. It came about as a result of on going and
continued animosity, as well as a clear and present favoritism toward the School District
and their lawyer. Cleand is looking to further embarrass Kahle and cause the commissioners
to lose faith with him and replace him as County Solicitor.
Kahle is far from being an angel. He is slow, to say the least, to get anything done.
He allowed himself to be put in a position by Cleland to lose tax assessment cases and
give a one time wind fall to Cleland's rich timber friends from Kane and Smethport. Kahle
lost because he was not on time and took for granted that he would be afforded what
lawyers normally are. Kahle was wrong and Cleland slammed the door on him.
However, this latest deal is too plain. Even a blind man can see what is going on. Even
the unsigned editorialist for The Era should be able to see what Cleland is
attempting to do.
The battles between Cleland and Commissioners have raged long before I ever came on to
the scene. Cleland has no respect for the division of powers as set up by the County Code
and the State Legislature. He will resort to whatever he must do to be in control. The
"phantom fax" setting this matter for the first day of bear season is one more
way.
Hold on to your belts, your hats, and your shirts. This is just the beginning.
Comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
NOVEMBER 23, 1999
At long last and about time
Good morning. It is another balmy 54.5 degree morning at 5:28 A.M.
Jack the Bear 1 Great White Hunters 0
The weather is on Jack's side. I heard of only one bear getting it yesterday. He ran
afoul of some Crawford County boys putting on a drive up on Buck Lick. Then I guess they
had one heck of a time dragging him out of there. Even a hundred pound dead bear is hard
to move. This one was about 180 lbs. I was told.
From my buddy Bernie "The Former Jerk" Moore out in sunny Arizona, I
had the following comment on yesterday's article:
I am on Jack's side: Bud, I was a little disappointed this morning after
reading your story about Jack the bear. The whole time I was reading it my mind was trying
to tie it to another Jack of our youth, one that also had a price on his head, not of beer
but of fame and glory. This "Jack" did not make it through that day
on November 22, 1963, perhaps you have a plan for tomorrow if you find out that a wayward
"Lee" is perhaps at this very moment perched in one of your favorite maples in
sight of the dumpster.
I fear for Jack's safety, if he makes it through this season would you please consider
installing a "bullet bubble" on the dumpster?
Bernie
Yes, I was aware of what yesterday was. It was the 36th anniversary of his
assassination and, Bernie, not a single mention of it anywhere in the ever famous Bradford
Era.
I found that interesting, Bernie; but not as interesting as another omission by The
Era. This one was even more startling, seeing how they are always trying to be on the
cutting edge of "news", or at least they were whenever I, or one of my friends,
was involved.
It seems that on Sunday morning, November 21, 1999, at approximately 1:30 A.M., a
contingent of police, led by the Pennsylvania State Police Liquor Control Board and back
up by various local police departments, closed down all exits from The Option House bar
and conducted a raid for underage drinking.
Remember The Option House, Bernie? In case you have forgotten, let me refresh
your memory.
That is the downtown drinkery frequented by certain members of "The Bar" from
a certain "Firm", all debonair, and very bon vivant, at least in their
own estimations of themselves, who come down the street after a hard day of work to
flirt with and buy drinks for various alleged underage college girls, and
sometimes even a few alleged high school girls, and try to win favor
with same. Remember, Bernie? Remember them leaving with the young ladies? Did it
ever strike you that professional services were being rendered?
Anyway, this is the same Option House, where the proprietor allegedly claimed that he
was protected. In broken English, he more than once claimed to have the State
Police and the local police in the back pocket of his flowing robes. And, Bernie, he also
claimed protection from "The Firm," as well. (Something about tapes and the
goods, I was told, third or fourth hand of course.)
Fifteen underage drinkers were detained, our sources reported to us and several others
who were of age, were arrested for disorderly conduct.
I scoured The Bradford Era for the details. I was told several of their
employees were even present when the raid took place. You think they would have known.
Don't they check police reports? I wonder how they missed it? I wonder why?
The raid at The Option House has been long overdue. While the Tacky Tavern became a
target for the same violation because King McDowell wanted the property, The Option House
never saw one moment of law enforcement. While Joe Tehle became their target at the City
Line, it was alleged that the Days of Wine and Roses were in their heyday for any kid who
could climb up to the bar and put down the American Dollar, especially if they were pretty
young girls. That kept the lawyers from "The Firm" at the bar.
Maybe The Era was just trying to be a good neighbor. Maybe it is one of the
only safe places where they can drink. Who knows, Bernie? It happened and it was not
reported, until at least now.
Also on yesterday's article, Stoney wrote to me.
Subject: Hunting Bear! You are getting more and more liberal ( I mean this as a
complement ) every day......now taking the side of animals instead of the "Great
White Hunters" ?.......Sticking up for poor people over the rich?....what's happening
to you? (Besides getting SMARTER!)......but you are still on the wrong side of the Timber
Dispute!.......John
In the words of Harry Truman, John.
"How many times do you have to be hit on the head before you realize who is
hitting you?"
I didn't know my new found Liberalism would show so quickly. On November 3, 1999, I
changed my party affiliation. I became a Democrat. On that day, the first day in the
history of McKean County that it ever had two Democrats as County Commissioners, I turned
my back on the hypocrisy that has gone on here historically.
I don't like George W. Bush. I am not a Ronald Regan Democrat. I am more like a Richard
Nixon Democrat. Figure that one out. The Republican Contract with America was a fake, a
fraud, and a sham. Its architects were phonies and could not, in their own lives,
live up to the standards that they had set for the rest of us. In attempting to reach far
to the right, they fell off their flat earth. I see the same thing here in McKean County.
Somehow, for some reason, I am hanging in there hoping Jack makes it. I know how he
feels and I can certainly empathize with him as the whole world is now taking aim at him.
Go Jack.
Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
NOVEMBER 22, 1999
Jack the Bear
I know it. I didn't post the turkey recipe yesterday. I am leaving the space
open and I will get to it shortly. In the meantime it is 51.4 degrees at 6:09 A.M. The
bear hunters are out in force, all going after Jack, the 500 plus pounder who frequents
the dumpster at the Rainbow Inn.
Now Jack is no ordinary bear. He has eluded my neighbor who fancies himself quite a
bear hunter. Each year he brings his friends in from Pittsburgh and they set out and try
to force Jack out of the woods, driving him in a certain direction where they have
"sharpshooters" stationed to kill him. Every year they make noise like they are
after some man-eating tiger and every year they fail miserably.
Occasionally one of them will kill a baby bear. That must make them feel like real
sportsmen. That must make them feel like they are really men. Killing a baby bear is a
real heroic act. And I am sure that Jack remembers when his mother and sister were killed
just like that. Maybe that's what makes Jack "smarter than the average bear."
It was five or six years ago. Jack's mother, Emily, his sister, Priscilla, and Jack
began coming around. They would put on performances for the diners at the Rainbow in the
evening hours. Jack and Pricilla would tumble around while mom raided the dumpster,
carefully picking through the bags for scraps of Prime Rib. She would throw them out on
the ground and then summon them to "come and eat," just like a good mom.
That went on all summer. Then came bear season.
There was snow that year. That gave the great white hunters the edge they so
desperately need. They were able to track the three bears. And track them they did. They
tracked them all day and into the night. Emily kept herself and her two cubs just ahead of
the hunters once they broke through their ambush with hot lead flying through the air.
She held up the next day somewhere and the hunters couldn't find her. But, she was
hungry and when she came out at the dumpster down at a neighboring bar and restaurant, the
heroic hunters were waiting.
They shot Priscilla first and then they shot Emily. Jack was inside the metal dumpster
while all the shooting was going on. The hunters assumed they got him too. But that was
not the case. He was in the dumpster laying perfectly still underneath the bleeding body
of his sister. As the men approached laughing about the ambush at the garbage can they had
just pulled off, Jack leaped out and ran into the woods. As he did the heroic men began
filling the air with more lead but none of the shots hit their mark. Thus began the saga
of Jack the Bear.
Jack and I have had several run ins. The Rainbow Inn and the my house are separated by
about 500 feet of forest. I walk it daily and I am so familiar that I take the
surroundings for granted. Jack on the other hand, feels pretty much the same way.
Afterall, this was the area where he used to tumble and play with his sister and mother.
It is his backyard, too.
Jack and I literally have bumped into one another while we were traveling in opposite
directions and not paying attention to where we were going. We have also come across one
another at night when I was taking the shortcut home from the bar. All in all, Jack and I
bump into one another five or six times a year, and in the spring, he likes to steal the
garbage bags off my front porch and make a mess in the side yard.
But Jack is huge now. He is the biggest bear in this area for quite some time. He very
easily could be pushing 600 pounds and to make things worse, he is not afraid of humans.
He knows us. He knows how to get what he wants. I would hate to between him and what he
wants and have him think I was keeping it from him. He is that big.
Anita, the friendly barmaid at the Rainbow, has a Case of Beer Bounty on Jack's head.
She is tired of cleaning up after him. He is in the dumpster every night this time of year
and he scatters garbage everywhere, just to get those scraps of Prime Rib.
Me, I have mixed feelings about him. I know he could become very dangerous and I do
know he is a real pain in the rear with the mess he makes. But Jack is a survivor. I
respect that about him. He has eluded the best efforts of man to kill him going on six or
seven seasons now.
Actually, I kind of wish old Jack dies in his sleep this winter. I don't wish for him
to be made into a rug or anything like that. And he couldn't be all that good to eat,
either. Afterall, he's been eating out of garbage cans for all of his life.
It is getting light and I haven't heard any gunshots yet. Generally, they get shot at
first light on the first day. Stay safe Jack. I am hoping that you make it one more time.
Just don't make such a mess in the future. Maybe then we can convince Anita to take the
case of beer off your head.
Comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
NOVEMBER 21, 1999
There were no new articles.
NOVEMBER 20, 1999
Tom Clark is back
The Good, The Bad and The Ugly
I apologize to my faithful readers or, perhaps more accurately, reader
and the occasional visitor for not having a column in this space last
week. I've been busier than a set of jumper cables at a South Center
Street wedding and couldn't find the time to concentrate on writing.
This may surprise some of you...not that I've been busy but that I
actually put some thought behind my cyber babbling.
Mostly, I blame the change of seasons for my lack of motivation, not
only for writing but creative thinking in general. A menagerie of mixed
emotions is running through my head. Hence, the title of this column.
Since I'm the kind of guy who likes a happy ending, like when Lassie
saved Timmy who fell in the well, I'll reverse the order of what Autumn means me.
The Ugly - We were, once again, blessed with two weeks of spectacular colors peppering
the hills of McKean County, only to watch the beauty give way to the pre-winter grayness
that is left behind by the fallen leaves. We need snow, dammit! Not only to play in but to
paint our majestic vistas in winter beauty. Or something like that.
I wish we had no Spring, 25 weeks of Summer, 2 weeks of Fall and 25 weeks of Winter.
I'd put away the softball bat and get out the
cross-country skis. One week I'd be rounding the bases at Gleason Field and the next week
schussing down Mogul Mountain on my way to some baked French Onion soup at the Westline
Inn. Ahhh, life would be so good.
The Bad - October 6th will be etched into my cerebral calendar for a
long time. I was strolling the aisles of Bradford's K Mart that day,
feeling pretty good about the Big K experience and life in general. I
entered the Garden Center to check for any season-ending specials.
>I turned the corner into the Garden Center and witnessed a site so
hideous and despicable that I wanted to turn and run in fear. There, in
front of me, crouched on the floor was a red-vested, pimply-faced
stockboy assembling a fake Christmas tree. I wanted to kick the kid
right in the head. It was only October 6th, for crise sakes! I didn't
even have my Columbus Day shopping done and K Mart is already cramming Christmas down my
throat!
Call me a scrooge, if you will, but this whole Christmas debacle is
getting way out of hand. I saw store shelves with Halloween decorations on one side and
Christmas crap on the other. If we all band together and refuse to buy this stuff before
Thanksgiving, perhaps the manufacturers, advertisers and retailers will get the message
that we don't want to think about Christmas until after Turkey day.
Too much to ask from everyone to refrain from Christmas shopping until then? Well, how
about if we boycott just one Christmas item? Those ugly icicle lights would be a good
candidate. The first set I ever saw were OK, but now they are on every house. Gimme a
break!
Here's a little Christmas shopping tip from your Uncle Tom. Start and
finish your shopping on December 24th. Most of the good stuff is
already sold and you won't rack your brain trying to figure out what to get Uncle Ned or
Aunt Mert. It's the old "Take What's Left" method, time honored and proven.
One example of Christmas restraint that should be noted is the South
Bradford Fruit Market. They have a sign outside that says Christmas
trees, wreaths, etc., will be available November 27th, AFTER
Thanksgiving. Thank you, Bosers! Someone give them an award.
The Good - With apologies to my brother Jerry, who claims that he is "only news
and weather", I am as happy as a pig in you know what that it is hockey and football
season.
For three hours on a Sunday, I can tune out the everyday world and
cheer on my beloved Buffalo Bills. And, there is no greater joy than
watching them open a can of whup-ass on the Miami Dolphins, as the boys in Red, White and
Blue did last week. The Dallas Cokeboys are America's Team? Perhaps Columbia's Team, but
the Bills are the ones who wear Old Glory's colors.
If watching Doug Flutie and our defense have their way with the Fish
wasn't enough, it was icing on the cake to here that Cleveland (hey,
there's a football team in Cleveland!) added more whine to the
Pittsburgh fans' party by embarrassing the Steelers, in Three Rivers and A Sludge Pool
Stadium, no less. Their obnoxious, snot-nosed and genetically challenged fans have been
quiet for awhile around here after the Bills pounded the Steelers earlier this year. The
loss to the Brownies should shut them up for a long time. Hey, Steelers, get a real
quarterback and coach!
The Buffalo Sabres are starting to come around after a horrendous
start. Many of the so-called hockey experts called it a "Stanley Cup
Hangover", after the Sabres were screwed out of the championship.
Yes, I'm still pissed and probably will be for the rest of my life. As
are thousands of die-hard Sabres fans in Western New York and Northern Pennsylvania. The
National Hockey League never admitted that they blew the no-goal call that cost Buffalo
the Stanley Cup. However, two days later they changed the rule concerning the disputed
goal. Go figure!
We have waited 24 years for the Sabres to reach the finals and it may be another 24
years before they get there again. It's a damn good thing I'm a patient guy. Like any of
the other Buffalo teams that have been screwed in one way or another, the Sabres are
shaking it off and getting their act together. I'm convinced that the Sports Gods hate
Buffalo and won't let us win anything. The Curse of Scott Norwood, if you will.
Anyways, when many of you read this on Saturday night, I'll be in
Section 201, Row 1, Seat 1 in Marine Midand Arena, watching the Sabres play the Atlanta
Thrashers, the NHL's newest expansion team. I've said it before, that's what I love about
living in McKean County. We are surrounded by rural beauty, except for the present
seasonal transition period, and have a major city right up the street that offers
diversions for every tastes, including pro sports.
I'm really glad that I wrote this column in reverse order. I know that
it sounded like I had my undies in a bind when I worte "The Ugly" and "The
Bad" segments but, by the time I got on "The Good" part, my demeanor was
much happier. Now, if only we could get 6-10" inches of snow...
Maybe the "ugly" is the ramblings of a Buffalo fan rubbing it in on
Pittsburgh. The management does not necessarily agree with the opinions of
"losers" who can't even win a Super Bowl in four attempts and make excuses for
their shortcommings in the Stanley Cup. They talk a good one until the big one. That is
where they always seem to fall short. Thank God they don't have a baseball team!
And with that there are thirty-six more shopping days until Christmas.
In the meantime your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.
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