Wrist Shots

There’s a chapter in the book “Freakonomics,” by Steven D. Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner (very interesting book, by the way) titled, “Why do drug dealers still live with their moms?”

The answer (provided by the authors after they undertook a fair amount of first-person interviews, statistical analysis, and research) is simple: The lowest-level drug dealers don’t make any money. The guys at the top of the food chain do, and they make a big show of flaunting their wealth. Why? It’s the carrot. They perpetuate the myth that with a little hard work and ingenuity, anyone can become a major player. Like a big corporation, you start at the ground floor and work your way up to become CEO.

Except it doesn’t work that way. It’s the street-level dealers who get caught, get shot, stabbed and whatever, while the upper-level distributors skate away. Except the distributors need the street dealers, so in order to replenish the ranks they have to keep the lifestyle dream alive. Hence the gaudy displays.

I thought about this during the “call-in” I witnessed last Thursday and wrote about last Sunday, where four low-level street dealers received an opportunity to avoid jail time if they agree to a series of contract stipulations.

People I’ve talked to have had mixed reactions about the program — I won’t go into detail; I’m sure you know what the gamut can be.

Personally, I don’t think it’s a bad idea. We’re not talking hardened thugs here. We’re talking young adults who got sucked into probably using and then wanting to live the dream.

Did they know it was wrong? Probably. But do they come from dysfunctional families? I know three of them did (and by “dysfunctional” I mean more complicated than just a single-parent household). I also know that if someone grows up thinking they don’t mean much to anybody, they’re a sucker to latch on to someone who acts like they do mean something. And I know that pop culture messages that glorify some behaviors, lifestyles and ideas in film, print and song are very alluring.

And there’s one other thing I know. You send a young, low-level dealer to jail and what you get two years later is a savvier, smarter dealer who has more than likely amassed a notebook full of even better contacts for when they get out. Now there’s an education for you.

That’s why I think it’s not a bad idea to give young, first-time offenders a chance, especially in this program. There’s a support net. There’s accountability. There’s incentive. There are consequences if they fail.

Ultimately, there’s a chance that rather than go to jail and be a drain on community resources — perhaps for a lifetime — they’ll turn around, get a job, and become an asset to the community instead.

Yes, the odds of all four succeeding are long — at best. Personally, I think if 50 percent make it, that’s a success.

And no, let’s not kid anybody. This will not stop the flow of drugs. More low-level wannabes will fill in the gaps, much as they do when dealers get jail time. If we’ve learned anything, it’s that you don’t stop the flow of drugs by clamping down on the supply. You have to deal with demand. If there’s one thing this country has proven throughout its history — beginning with smugglers who ran British blockades in the colonial era — it’s that if there’s a demand for something, there’s big-time profit potential and you know some enterprising entrepreneur will jump on that opportunity every time. So toss all the dealers in jail that you can round up. Walk away, dusting off your hands, feeling some sort of useless satisfaction that the job is done, and prepare to be disappointed. The cops and courts can deal with supply. Demand is a problem that must be dealt with by an entire community.

So to me, this program is not about eliminating the drug trade. It’s about extending forgiveness and offering redemption. It’s about giving some young people the chance to make better choices and grow into a happy, productive and satisfying adulthood.

More importantly, it’s about a community recognizing it has a problem, and actually coming together as one to deal with it.   

In the previous post I commented on my general mistrust of the citizenry to forego lifestyle sacrifices and perhaps re-think policies of consumer excess.

Lo and behold, a few minutes after posting, I pick up a New Era and read about changes in kindergarten curricula which includes this:

“…kindergartners are evaluated with 10-to 20-0minute exercises that are not pencil-and-paper tests. The child answers questions that allow the educator to determine if they recognize letters, brands (SUCH AS KNOWING THAT THE GOLDEN ARCHES MEANS McDONALD’S) and what is the front of a book…” (The all-caps format is mine, by the way–just couldn’t resist.)

Where are we, Crazytown? There are all kinds of associations you could make to see if kids know how to attach symbols to what they represent. Country flags, for instance. Geologic maps. Maybe sign language. Whatever. But noooo…we’re making sure our kindergartners know exactly what those golden arches mean. Yep, right up there with learning how to read a book.

Well, at least we have our priorities straight. I feel so much better now.

Why, you might ask, am I butchering Al Green?

Because I’ve had enough of the tea parties.

First off, someone explain to me the similarity between a bunch of people standing in a park moaning about the feds compared to a bunch of people who actually took action (at a fair degree of personal risk) by covertly boarding British ships and physically pitching stuff into the Boston Harbor.

I say we give these modern day “tea parties” a more fitting name. How about “Whine Tastings.”

Secondly, let’s take a closer look at the 1773 tea party itself. Not the Walt Disney/Johnny Tremaine version, but the keep-it-real, more historically accurate version. (Sorry, you can take the history teacher out of the classroom, but …)

The British East India Company was bankrupt. And, as in any bankruptcy proceeding, it was forced to liquidate assets. Guess what they had tons of stashed away in warehouses. (And remember, tea in those days wasn’t a luxury. It was a necessity.)

So like any good mercantilist mother country, England packed the tea in ships and sent them off to the colonies where the tea would become cash.

Now it’s time to follow the money, because any successful revolution has its philosophical and practical sides. The philosophers were upset by British tax policies in the first place. The Tea Act, which placed levies specifically on tea (oddly enough), was seen as just one more money grab by the crown. Then there were the practical folks. Tea drinkers, who had to pay more for their beverage of choice, and tea merchants, who were upset because they couldn’t pawn off the entire cost of the tax on their customers and therefore were realizing diminished profits.

Those forces all whipped one another up and the next thing you know, they took action to remove the offending tea. Romantics can make the tea party as lofty as they want, but need to be reminded that it wasn’t all about high-minded principles. There were profit margins at work here as well.

But hey, like I said, at least those folks did something more than just stand around on the dock with posters and call the British sailors nasty names.

Thirdly, what, exactly, are these tea party people protesting?

The rise of big government? Sorry, that horse left the barn more than 70 years ago. Did these people just wake up and notice the bureaucratic T. Rex in their living room? Have they read somewhere that if people complain enough, bureaucracies will downsize themselves in response?

Maybe it’s government regulation they don’t like. Yes, there’s plenty of that to go around. But there are also enough Bernie Madoffs — people who circumvent lax regulatory oversight — around to take advantage of the uninformed or the irresponsible. Go ahead, do away with government regulation. But you better figure out a way to educate and invigorate a largely disinterested population so they can undertake the job of regulating themselves.

How about government bailouts? That’s funny; I didn’t see any of these tea parties being held when the government bailed out the suits at AIG, et al. You can debate that one all you want, but that horse is gone, too. And here’s the bottom line: Once you establish the precedent of bailing out the bankrupt, you can’t say, “You know, we’re only going to bail out the rich guys who go under. You recently-laid-off workers? Take a hike.”

Apparently it might be about liberty. I see Rep. Sam Rohrer, R-Pa., who tends to rant about this sort of thing and the loss of “personal freedoms,” was at the local tea party. Reportedly he said in his speech that the U.S. is “standing on the precipice of losing our freedom.” Frankly, I have no idea what he’s talking about in this ridiculously dramatic tone. But it does make me laugh to think that he said this while standing in a city that is in the process of installing surveillance cameras all over the place. Not that I’m entirely against that, but I certainly hope he appreciates the irony.

Oh, don’t forget taxes. It’s always about taxes, isn’t it? Wonder if the people in the audience are opposed to U.S. military ventures overseas. If they want lower taxes, they better be. Things that blow up tend to cost money. How about cutting spending on education. Oh, wait, they already have, and that’s working out well. Then let’s slash Medicare; yep, that’ll happen. And I wonder how many of the folks in these tea party audiences have benefited from the Bush-era tax cuts, which favored the higher-level income earners. I certainly didn’t and, frankly, anything that evens the taxation-level playing field is fine by me.

And here’s a thought: Where were these tea party people when gas prices were soaring at the same time Exxon/Mobil was declaring record profits each quarter? It seems to me that there’s a cause you can actually sink your teeth into. You can actually not drive your car everywhere. Or trade in the SUV. Or even stand around in a park with posters and complain about the price of gas…

Do I sound cynical? Oh, I’m sorry. But it seems to me that what is needed more than ever is an informed populace. A populace that is willing to take real action to force change. A populace that is willing to make sacrifices in lifestyle choices. A populace that will take responsibility for helping to create — either willingly or by benign ignorance — a bureaucratic behemoth. And really? I don’t see that happening anytime soon.

But standing around with posters for a couple hours? Now that’s something we can all get behind.
So call me a cynic. Call me snarky. Whatever. Just don’t call and ask me to accompany you to a tea party.

Another little piece of my past got chipped away yesterday when Phillies announcer Harry Kalas died in D.C.

I’m not a Phillies fan, but I probably should be. (Frankly, after the last strike I’m not a devoted fan of any major league team anymore. Once it became clear the players and owners didn’t really care much about me I thought I’d return the favor.)

But the Phillies have been a strange subplot of my entire life.

I’m told that when I was very young I would often take naps curled beside my bed-ridden, Phillie-fanatical grandmother, falling asleep to Phillies broadcasts on the radio. I also spent more than a few Sunday afternoons seated on my uncle’s knee, watching games in black and white and having that Ballantine beer jingle they must’ve played between every half inning etched forever into my head. (”Take a ring, and then another ring, and another ring and you’ve got three rings…”)

But a childhood experience in — and subsequently lifelong affinity for — St. Louis turned me into a Cardinals’ fan. Besides, the Cardinals have a rich history. The Gashouse Gang. Dizzy Dean. Stan the Man. Lou Brock. Bob Gibson.

As for the Phillies? Their history was — at best, ignoble, at worst, embarrassing.

There’s the oversaturation factor. The local media fawns all over the Phillies. Much of the incessant blather on Philadelphia talk radio drives me nuts. And ever since I moved to Lancaster city in 1974 I have purchased a copy of the Philadelphia Inquirer every day I’ve been in town. So while I’m not particularly a fan of the Phillies I probably know more about them than any other team.

Familiarity, perhaps, breeds contempt. Sort of explains how I feel about Penn State, too.

Yet, while I had more than enough of the Phillies over the years, I never got enough of their announcers.

Sports broadcast journalism has always intrigued me, and Philadelphia has been blessed with some of the most entertaining announcers of all time. By Saam’s malaprops used to crack me up (”Hello, By Saam, this is everybody coming to you from…”). Bill Campbell, the consummate professional, seemed to be able to call every sport out there. I always thought if you invented a game, within 10 minutes Bill would figure out how to do the play-by-play. John Facenda, he of frozen tundra fame, is from Philly. Richie Ashburn joined the broadcast team in 1963 and fit right in. Harry arrived in 1971 and while the transition wasn’t totally seamless — replacing Campbell wasn’t easy — Harry eventually charmed everyone.

There were lots of great announcers in the 70’s. Vin Scully. Red Barber. Jack Buck. Mel Allen. I know I’m creating many errors of omission.

But none compared with Harry and Richie. The praise today will be effusive and I won’t dare to contribute to the platitudes. I’ll just say this: If there were two guys I’d have wanted to spend an afternoon with watching baseball on TV and drinking a couple beers, it was Harry and Richie.

They were the lucky ones — friends who got to hang out and do something they enjoyed. But more than that, they seemed to realize how lucky they were and never lost that perspective.

I shook Harry’s hand once, but I had the fortune to chat with Richie a couple times. The first was at Downey’s in Philadelphia around 1985. I was having dinner with a friend and noticed Richie sitting in the corner having a great and lively conversation with a young blonde woman. The restaurant had a blind piano player, guide dog at his feet, providing dinner music. At one point, Richie got up, went to the piano player, stuck some bills in his jar and requested he play “Chicago.”

The pianist’s head perked up and he exclaimed, “Richie Ashburn! I’d know that voice anywhere!”

As my friend and I left, I stopped by Richie’s table, told him I didn’t want to bother him, but wanted to let him know how much a part of my life he’d become.

Richie was what I expected. He stood up, thanked me, then introduced me to his daughter, Jan. She had recently turned 21 and they were enjoying a father-daughter dinner together, he told me with incredible happiness and pride. We all chatted for a few minutes — he didn’t need to but it seemed natural for him — and then headed on our merry ways.

Two years later when I heard Jan was killed in a car carsh I felt like I’d lost a member of my own family. In the two times I ran into Richie elsewhere in Philly after that I never mentioned that encounter. I couldn’t begin to imagine what her loss must have done to Richie. And now that I have a 21-year-old daughter I can’t comprehend how he got through it.

But get through it he did. I’m sure Harry helped.

Richie died in 1997 following a Phillies broadcast and Harry, devastated, soldiered on. He did so by telling great Richie stories. Here’s one of my favorites:

Apparently Richie absolutely hated doing the Phillies’ pre-game show. Complained about it constantly. Harry said one night the two of them were at the hotel bar when a working girl sat down and struck up a conversation. After a few minutes she told them that for $100 she’d do anything they wanted. Harry said without missing a beat, Richie offered, “How about the pre-game show?”

Of course Harry’s delivery made the story richer. For the past 38 years he made the lives of baseball fans — and football fans, having replaced Facenda’s “voice of God” at NFL films — richer, too.

Just as his obvious love of life and baseball made everyone who ever met him richer. To understand that, all you had to do was see Larry Andersen, disconsolate, break down on TV yesterday. Or hear Jimmy Rollins, who knew Harry relatively briefly but obviously respected him greatly.

And it’s not only the sports public who will suffer Harry’s loss. Gov. Ed Rendell said yesterday whenever he went to a charity event in the city, there was Harry giving his time as emcee, handing out autographs and telling stories. Rarely has a city’s persona become so entwined with a man who announced baseball games for a living.

And rarely has the life of a man who announced baseball games for a living become so entwined with the lives of so many generations.

But it did.

Today he is gone. And with him goes a part of our history and a part of our innocent youth.

Hard to believe, Harry.
 

“You have a very strange inauguration process,” my waiter said as he placed the cup of aromatic Dutch coffee before me.
Like the coffee, he, too, was Dutch but spoke in a proper British accent, a product of the teachers from the United Kingdom who taught him English as a third language.
“One day Mr. Bush is one of the most powerful men in the world,” he observed as a fire flickered off the dark wood in the small cafe. “The next, he sits on a stage, almost completely ignored, and must listen to his successor criticize his work.
“I almost felt sorry for him,” he added. “But not very.
“When he climbed into the helicopter and flew away I said, ‘Bye-bye. Please don’t come back.’ ”
For the past 23 years, I’ve accompanied a group of high school seniors overseas to a Model United Nations conference in The Hague,  Netherlands. Schools from more than 130 countries attend the conference, creating a truly international environment. When you throw teachers of history, international affairs and geography together, you get discussion. Particularly about American politics, a subject (I’m not kidding, sadly enough) most Europeans can speak about with greater depth than many Americans.
Five presidents have occupied the Oval Office during my tenure. Each has been the subject of intense scrutiny.
Of those five, none has generated the euphoria, hope and optimism Barack Obama has inspired around the world.
All things being relative, it’s important to note than none generated the disdain and head-scratching “how-did-that-guy-ever-get-elected?” wonder of Obama’s predecessor.
When I returned this year I consulted the journals I’ve kept on every trip. (What can I say, there’s a lot of time to kill when you can’t sleep well in a foreign land, away from home and family.) Here’s a brief summary of my notes about European dissections of American presidents:
Reagan — Begrudging respect. Tended to shoot from the hip a bit too much, but can’t argue with the guy’s leadership/cheerleading skills. Can’t deny his involvement in hastening the collapse of the Berlin Wall.
Bush I — Nice guy, relatively harmless. Made a big mistake not finishing the job in Iraq.
Clinton — Good for the U.S., not so much for other parts of the world. Balkan policy a disaster. Ditto Africa. Got some sympathy votes from Europeans who couldn’t understand why such a big deal was made of the Lewinsky scandal. Here’s an interesting quote I wrote down. “Do Americans honestly believe Bill Clinton is the first politician — or first president for that matter — who had sex with a staff member and then lied about it? Are you all that gullible? And why do you care?”
Bush II — A disaster from the beginning. Most Europeans recognize Afghanistan and that general region as the hotbed of terrorist support. Felt Bush sacrificed efforts there to clean up his dad’s mess in Iraq. His administration’s general attitude of cluelessness/turn-and-look-the-other-way toward cracks in the American economy is now bearing rotten fruit.
Truly, this is only the tip of the critical iceberg.
Bush II also lost on style points. As the waiter said, “English is my third language, but I believe I speak it more clearly than your own president does, don’t you agree?” No argument from me on that one. At least while serving dinner the guy didn’t put any food on my family.
But the praise for Obama was universally effusive for both his style and substance. I found myself entering restaurants and conversations with hope, not with the usual head-down, “Oh jeesh, here come some more shots at our foreign policy again” feeling I’d had in years past.
The people I met truly feel a new day has dawned.
But not without a cloudy lining.
For shortly after they expressed their unbridled joy, everyone followed with essentially the same question. As a teacher from Germany wondered, “It has taken a long time for the world to get to where it is now and will take an equally long time to solve our many problems. Do you think the American Congress and the American people understand that Obama offers the best chance to help us all survive? Will you extend to him the trust and patience he requires?”
When it comes to partisan politics in America, I’m fairly cynical. And by “cynical” I mean “largely disgusted by it. “
Yet, I must admit to sharing their optimism about an Obama presidency. At the very least, he offers a breath of fresh air to the political scene while reinforcing that romantic American land-of-infinite-opportunity notion of “anyone can grow up to be president.”
And I want him to succeed in his goal to lead this nation through unity, not by division.
I didn’t want to rain on their (and my) parade with a snide comment regarding American patience. But I can’t shake a nagging suspicion that eventually things will revert to a political “business as usual.”
So I answered as honestly and as optimistically as I could, and meant every word.
“I sure hope so.”

Upon returning home from overseas I learned Tack Trostle died. Our community has lost a warm and gentle heart. And my wife and I have lost a dear friend.
To call Tack a great guy sells him short. He was a hunanitarian. He was someone who you spent time with and then looked forward to a next encouter. To the students he worked with on many occasions at my former school, he was an educator, a mentor and an inspiration.

Tack served two tours of duty in Vietnam and spent the rest of his life battling PTSD. But he tried to channel his struggles to help others. He returned to Vietnam three times with Project Hearts and Minds to distribute medical supplies to clinics in rural villages struggling to minister to Vietnamese children.

He was active in Veterans for Peace and was particularly relentless in campaigning against the School of the Americas. He shared his stories with my students and touched them with his compassion and depth of feeling. He encouraged them to fight injustice and quite a few answered his call.

But he wasn’t just a crusader. His laugh filled a room. He spent many a summer seeking inner peace studying and meditating with monks at a New England Ashram; but when he sliced a tee shot into the woods he could give any sailor a run for his blue-mouthed money. He was a skilled mason who helped two mutual friends construct patios in their back yards; payment was not monetary, but came for him in the form of sitting down after a hard day’s work over a few cold beers and warm conversation. And taco night at the Dispensing Company will never be the same without him.
Last March Tack wrecked his bike and suffered severe head trauma. Seeing such a vibrant intellect and indomitable spirit in a state of such physical helplessness was painful. I can’t imagine what he must have been going through in the past 10 months.

So with his passing his spirit is free. With good fortune, he’s out on the links with Fred Rudisill, the mutual friend who introduced us over 20 years ago and who also left this sphere all too early.
Hit ‘em straight, boys.

In an article this past Sunday I took another trip down the rabbit hole to the Alice in Wonderland world of hotel management as practiced at the former Holiday Inn (doesn’t that blue tarp covering the sign look tasteful?) out on Greenfield Road.

This adventure centered on three general topics: 1. Tom Showalter; 2. relations between hotel franchisers and franchisees;  and 3. the future of that particular facility.

First things first.

Without Tom Showalter, who knows how long Kronos Hotels in Atlanta could’ve pulled this thing off.

Sometime in mid-September my editor forwarded me two things he wanted me to check out. One was a release from the state health inspectors reporting they found food being stored in a guest room out there because management didn’t want to fix a broken walk-in refrigerator. Someone figured the cranked-up air conditioner could maintain the maximum 41 degree temperature mandated by the state. Right. The genius who came up with that idea was off by about 20 degrees.

The other was an anonymous e-mail saying there was more going on at the hotel than simple stupidity about food management. It said the Liquor Control Board was checking into illegal alcohol sales and it also suggested we check out another hotel in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, also owned by Kronos.

I replied to the e-mail asking the person if they’d be willing to talk, since no one at the hotel was saying anything (management for good reason, given what happened, wouldn’t comment and employees were silent because they were told if they talked they’d get fired). The person replied and said yes, he’d talk. It was Tom.

Originally, he didn’t want to be quoted on the record because he was trying to get a job in the industry and figured if his name appeared in an article detailing the problems at Greenfield Road he’d be blackballed.

After I interviewed him, though, he reconsidered and said I could quote him, since his main concern was making sure his former colleagues started to receive some help in terms of alleviating some terrible working conditions and getting paid for their back, bounced paychecks.

As for his tip regarding Cedar Rapids, I talked to a reporter out there, Justin Foss, who had started covering problems at a Kronos-owned facility in the downtown. Same stuff: liens, health problems, bounced paychecks, etc. Justin told me to contact a guy covering problems at a hotel in Sheffield, Alabama. From there the trail led to Dothan, Alabama, to St. Louis, MO, to Louisville, KY, to Pensacola, FL and to Greentree, PA. All of the reporters involved began pooling resources to keep each other in touch with what was going on.

In the meantime (to use another literary analogy) Tom decided to channel Don Quixote and begin tilting at the Kronos windmills.

He encouraged other former employees to talk to me so I could get detailed information about what was going on here. He also got two of them to appear on a video we taped in a parking lot adjacent to the place to show how much junk was lying around.

Then, in what seemed to be a stroke of genius at the time, Tom launched a web site. The official Kronos site had been down for quite some time. (Temporarily unavailable because it was “being upgraded.” An upgrade, by the way, that’s lasted over three months. Rumor has it Kronos didn’t pay the host, which would certainly be par for the course. Kronos wasn’t paying anyone. My favorite story came out of Sheffield where Kronos attorneys fighting a lease-termination suit - initiated when Kronos stopped paying the rent it owed to the city for property it occupied - asked the judge if they could be removed from the case because they hadn’t been paid either.)

Anyway, Tom did some research and discovered the domain www.kronoshotelsllc.com was unowned so he bought it. With some clever work, he used it as a site to repost all of the stories written nationwide documenting Kronos’s problems. He also opened message boards and chat rooms where employees could contact each other to provide information, support, and take the opportunity to vent their frustrations.

The website took off like crazy. He’s had hits from over 40 countries and has averaged about 1,000 hits a day since it launched.

And if you read the story you’ll notice it also got him sued.

The first question, I guess, centers around why he did this. All along Tom has contended it is because of his concern for his former fellow employees. In fact, most of the people who have talked have expressed real concern and sympathy for the folks working at these facilities. I believe them all, for two reasons:

1. I’ve met Tom personally - and his family - and they are all incredibly nice, honest, and genuine people. Tom is polite and has a real southern charm coming from his jobs in hotels in Florida and Georgia. (My mother-in-law, who’s probably only 15 years or so older than Tom, had to say, “You have to stop calling me ma’am, it makes me feel old.)

2. After over 30 years working in journalism, for city government and teaching, I’ve developed what I feel is a very reliable B.S. meter. From tall tales to body language, eye contact, vocabulary, you name it, I think I’m pretty good at smelling a rat. Not once in all of my dealings with Tom, or any of the other folks who said they were concerned about the employees did my B.S. alarm go off. They all do really care.

I asked a friend of mine who works in the industry why that type of loyalty exists and he had a great explanation. He said a hotel is like a big house that has sleepovers every night. Some of the sleepovers involve strangers but many (because a hotel thrives on repeat business) involve friends. Consequently, the staff who works at a hotel becomes a big family. They’re cleaning the house, cooking meals, making sure everyone’s safe and happy - the things a family does. And like family they share secrets, laugh, cry, get angry, fall in love, etc. So, like family, they really start to care about one another.

I also asked him another question that’s been raised numerous times: Why don’t the people not getting paid find another job? The answer is both philosophical (the “we’re goingto stick together through this” family thing) and practical (many of the folks have not reached high levels of education and in the current economy the supply of workers with those educational levels far outstrips the demand).

Did I mention that this has been a very educational adventure for me personally?

Tom was right about being blackballed, too. Even with 18 years of experience he can’t get a job in the industry. This becomes a problem because he can’t afford an attorney and therefore must represent himself in the lawsuit. He’s hoping that Kronos won’t pay the attorneys who filed this suit either and it will eventually go away. But in the meantime, if anyone knows an attorney who has some free time who wouldn’t mind helping out a guy who’s fighting a good fight, get in touch with me and I’ll point you toward Tom.

Second things second, or about that blue tarp

To recap, Intercontinental Hotels Group owns the Holiday Inn brand. (Frankly, I think they should help pay for some of Tom’s legal bills. Until I called them, they weren’t aware of the fun goings-on at their Lancaster facility, specifically regarding the restaurant closing, the illegal alcohol sales, the utility shutoffs and the non-payment of taxes at the Lancaster site. As a result, they eventually “pulled the flag” (as the business lingo describes it when a franchisor strips a franchisee of the brand affiliation). Who knows how long that facility would have gone on sullying the Holiday Inn name if this hadn’t been publicized?

But down the rabbit hole things turn strange. As I continually contacted IHG for comment they played things unbelievably close to the vest. I figured once they found out what was going on here and elsewhere they’d want to distant themselves as quickly as possible from Kronos and maybe even rat them out. Silly me. They kept issuing statements about how they like to work with franchisees, yadda yadda. When they finally did pull the flag, very little was done at the property about it. Even a few weeks after the franchise was removed, if you called the hotel whoever answered the phone identified it as a Holiday Inn. The sign and collateral material was not removed. Allegedly (according to the proverbial “industry insiders”) that stuff all must go within a week of being “terminated from the system.” But not here. Try almost two months.

Again, I asked my friend about this. He said nowadays, as hotel ownership and management groups changed hands and facilities, franchisers and frachisees never know when they’ll have to work together again. So, for example, even if someone like IHG is having trouble with Kronos, they all tread on eggshells because in the future there’s a good chance they might meet again.

To me, if I were IHG and I found out someone with a track record like Kronos’s bought a facility in the Holiday Inn system I’d run screaming into the night.

I also spent a lot of time getting nowhere trying to find out how this all could happen and chase down two prevalent theoris: 1. Kronos was inept; 2. Kronos was sly as a fox and milked as much money out of its facilities as it could before dumping them on someone else.

I must’ve called 15-20 people in the hospitality industry, observers who study the industry, media outlets and publications that report on the industry, you name it. They treated me like I had leprosy.

The closest I got was one magazine publisher’s assistant said the publisher would talk and asked me to tell her a general idea about what I was looking for. Like an idiot I told her. That was the last I heard from them. And apparently their caller ID works well because that was the last time I talked to any live bodies there, regardless of what phone - work, personal, cell - I used. Maybe I should’ve gone to Reading so the call would’ve registered a 610 area code…

Third things third: What’s next?

As for the future on Greenfield Road? Who knows. In fact, it’s darn difficult to find anyone who knows much of anything about the present.

In a deal that I still don’t fully understand (largely because again I can’t get anyone who will explain the details either on or off the record - talk about your jittery investors for cryin’ out loud) somehow Kronos was shuffled off the property and a new entity, Hyperion Hotels, (and by new I mean created and registered in Georgia in the very same week the takeover took place) arrived on the scene. Turns out, if I may use another literary analogy, Hyperion took a page from the Wizard of Oz (”pay no attention to those hotel owners behind the curtain”) and immediately hired Prism Hotels and Resorts of Dallas, TX, to run the place.

Of course, rumors circulated of a shell game - that the principals of Kronos ditched that name and were hiding in Hyperion to escape the mountain of creditor-filed law suits.

This made sense to me, not because I possess any great personal business acumen, but because of my fascination, as a callow youth, with Greek mythology. As those with similar obsessions may know, Kronos and Hyperion were two of the original Titans who (in a classic case of sibling jealousy) conspired with their brothers to castrate their father, thereby eliminating the possibility of any more pitter-pattering of little Titan feet around the household. (It was Kronos, by the way, who wielded the sickle of testicular doom while the brothers held old Dad down. Yowza!)

I figured the Kronos folks were playing their own funny little word game. Who else would come up with two so closely-related names for two so closely-related businesses?

But a VP at Prism named Al Whitehouse said that wasn’t the case. That, in fact, the principal owner of Hyperion was a lending group - Stillwater Partners - that furnished the initial loans to Kronos to buy 16 hotels in June of last year. As financial troubles piled up, Kronos defaulted on interest payments (gee, imagine that) Stillwater got nervous and, to continue the grisly metaphor, used a financial sickle to remove Kronos’s hotel jewels. The conspiracy theorist in me still has doubts that there isn’t some backroom relationship, though.

According to the proverbial “insiders,” Prism has a well-respected reputation in the hotel industry as a management group that comes in to rescue foundering facilities, quickly rehab them to their former “glory,” and then depart to let the owners do with them (keep or sell) as they like.

I’m thinking, though, that Prism - or even Hyperion for that matter - didn’t know the extent of the troubles they were inheriting. The first time I talked to Al Whitehouse he seemed very optimistic and forthright. In subsequent conversations, though, he has been a bit more clipped in his answers and, in some cases, a bit more vague. The last time we talked he basically said (though in a more obtuse way) that Prism was still trying to get a handle on the problems they inherited and were trying to figure out what the heck to do. Good luck with that one.

In the  meantime the place still has no liquor license, no restaurant and, according to sources, only has about two or three room occupied each night. That’s certainly not going to generate even a fraction of the revenue necessary to start any kind of healing process.

It’s also not going to do anything to repair those increasingly freakish-looking neglected Amish statues on the property either. The neighboring visitor’s bureau approached Kronos about acquiring them and restoring them on their own property but Kronos never responded. I say they get some volunteers and a tow truck and perform a middle-of-the-night surgical strike of liberation.

As for the people still working at the hotel, or those who aren’t there but suffered because of Kronos’s mismanagement, I hope they do finally get some justice. Not because I’m part of the family but because I believe it is patently disgraceful in any situation when others suffer because of the unconsciounable acts of others.

In the meantime, if you’re interested, stay tuned. I’m fairly certain the white rabbit will drop by sometime in the next few weeks to lead another journey.
 

I promised myself I’d wait a week to let the knees jerk about the election before I would consider weighing in.

And I wasn’t going to, except over the weekend we were out and I overheard the following comment about the Obama presidency: “You wait. In about two years we’ll all have to face Mecca twice a day.”

Guess the honeymoon’s over.

So today I’d like to preach a little moderation.

However, before I toss my two cents into the fray let me provide some context. I grew up in a household of conservative Republicans. Conservative in the classic “the government which governs least, governs best” sense. Republic in the election day mantra of “The worst Republican is better than the best Democrat.” As far as my family was concerned FDR was the devil incarnate.

Consequently, as statistics show the overwhelming majority if peope do, I registered in the party of my father. Except it was the early 70’s, I was a teenager while Vietnam was winding down and Nixon was winding up. My father and I didn’t see eye to eye on a lot.

But as I aged, studied history as an undergrad and in grad courses – and eventually ended up teaching it for over 20 years — I began to understand the value of classic conservative philosophy. A government that has been spinning out of control for some time now needs to get back to its roots. Sometimes, less is more.

I also came to embrace the concept of moderation as a political means to the end. Those who tout the blind fanaticism of the far left and the far right annoy me equally; media “pundits” who do so I find worse.

Politics is the art of negotiation and compromise, neither of which are possible when people scream without thinking or talk without listening.

In the past year I saw far too much screaming and fear-mongering, and I’m afraid to say, moreso from the McCain camp.

I also understand the concept of the division of power in the U.S. and trust that whole checks and balances system.

Finally, I believe compassion and empathy are critical to success as a leader. (And yes, Virginia, conservatives can be compassionate too.)

These, then, are some of the reasons I voted for Obama.

This is not to say I voted for George W. Bush, either. (On the other hand, I didn’t vote for his Democrat opponents either — I opted for the Libertarian candidates as a protest vote, and please don’t lecture me about “throwing my vote away.”) Personally, I think voting for people you see as unfit for the job (and who actually will get the job) is disingenuous. At least the Libertarians never had a snowball’s chance.

Why I didn’t vote for Bush is another reason I voted for Obama. I never liked how the “neo-conservative” crowd had its hooks in the Bush presidency. (It’s amazing how you can put the word “neo” in front of something to hide your real agenda. To me, “neo” is the word form of wolf in sheep’s clothing.)

The Neo-Con foreign policy agenda, for example, is right out of Woodrow Wilson’s interventionist policies in the early part of this century. “I will teach those people how to vote,” said Wilson of Latin America. Bush has said virtually the same thing about Iraq.

Bush’s domestic policies were equally unappealing. One quick example: Oil. No push for alternative energy. And the mismanagement continues even now with the pressure to ease up on drilling restrictions. I don’t come at this from an environmentalist point of view but from the simple fact that while everybody’s talking about drilling, there’s very little discussion of the fact that the major oil companies have — and continue to — post record profits. I’m not critical of making profits, but for crying out loud, what these corporations are doing is obscene — and they are literally fleecing the gas-buying public.

I’m not wild about the recent bailout, either. Again, while many folks are debating the de-regulation issue as an allegedly prominent cause, they are overlooking a more important aspect: The level of greed and mismanagement that is being tolerated at many levels of public and private corporations.

(One final aside: I also never trusted Dick Cheney. It’s no coincidence, to me, that he was a key player in the misinformation about Iraq, a situation which has cost us dearly both domestically and internationally. For another, his type of blind arrogance has no place in my White House.)

Despite his attempts to paint himself a “maverick,” in John McCain’s policies I saw more of the same.

I’ve always liked McCain and was willing to give him the benefit of a doubt to a certain extent. But his voting record with the Bush administration was troublesome. Then two other things happened which sealed the deal.

The first was the selection of Sarah Palin. I’m not getting deeply into the whole Palin thing other than to say early on, McCain had a valid issue in attacking Obama’s lack of experience. Yet, he then chose a running mate who had no experience whatsoever then touted the importance of having “fresh views” in the White House. This maneuver smacked of either hypocrisy and/or the fact McCain sacrificed some of his own principles to the “win at all costs” drive of the Republican campaign. Both are distasteful.

Then there was the vitriolic nature of his campaign stops. He began to play to the crowd, ramping up — and taking advantage of — their fear. In watching clips of rallies I saw anger and the potential for violence. Frankly, at stops where some people would shout “kill him” in reference to Obama, I thought McCain should have just said “This is ridiculous” and walked off the stage. It might have gained their attention.

I read an interesting piece a few weeks ago by a friend of McCain’s who said when the election was all over and McCain would reflect on how things went, he would view the campaign as one of the most regrettable acts of his career. McCain, the author said, is an overall nice and decent human being. He suffered for this country and wants to give back. He fancies himself an artful negotiator, a low-key individual who can bring all sorts of diverse groups together. Yet, the author wrote, for whatever reason he became an individual who was divisive and incendiary. The McCain the author knew, his close friend concluded, got hijacked.

But the good McCain wasn’t who I saw in this campaign.

So I voted for a man who, to me, exemplifies the optimism that can exist in this country. (Frankly, his policies don’t scare me that much, and if things do get a little out of hand he’ll still have a Congress and Supreme Court lurking about. I think we need to give the man and our system the benefit of the doubt on this one.)

I believe divisiveness must end. I believe the fears that the current administration has been overplaying for its own purposes should no longer be flamed. I believe there must be more energy placed on uniting all groups in this country (it’s not like any of us are going anywhere, so it’s time to move on in a positive direction). And I believe it’s time to extol and utilize this country’s virtues, not use them to denigrate political opponents as I saw the McCain campaign do.

If you want one last piece of evidence regarding the dysfunctionality of the Republican party, witness the McCain-Palin sniping and backstabbing that began even before the election occurred. There was no one in the party who had the foresight or power to get everybody in one room and say, “Look. if you want us to rebound you need to shut up. You are doing no one any good.”

That lack of vision, and that campaign, were not run by the same Republican party I signed on to, lo those many years ago. As the old saying goes, I didn’t leave them, they left me.

A colleague sent me this bailout proposal developed by T.J. Birkenmeier (check out his link – quite an interesting guy). I forwarded it to a friend of mine who encouraged me to publicize it, adding the comment, “if this plan sat beside THEIR plan and we voted it, whose plan do you think would win hands down?”

Certainly an intriguing idea.

So here it is:

The Birk Economic Recovery Plan

I’m against the $85,000,000,000.00 bailout of AIG.

Instead, I’m in favor of giving $85,000,000,000 to America in
a We Deserve It dividend.

To make the math simple, let’s assume there are 200,000,000
bonafide U.S. Citizens 18+.

Our population is about 301,000,000 +/- counting every man, woman
and child. So 200,000,000 might be a fair stab at adults 18 and up.

So divide 200 million adults 18+ into $85 billon and that equals $425,000.00.

My plan is to give $425,000 to every person 18+ as a We Deserve It dividend.

Of course, it would NOT be tax free.

So let’s assume a tax rate of 30%.

Every individual 18+ has to pay $127,500.00 in taxes. That sends $25,500,000,000 right back to Uncle Sam.

But it means that every adult 18+ has $297,500.00 in their pocket. A husband and wife has $595,000.00.

What would you do with $297,500.00 to $595,000.00 in your family?
Pay off your mortgage – housing crisis solved.
Repay college loans – what a great boost to new grads.
Put away money for college – it’ll be there.
Save in a bank – create money to loan to entrepreneurs.
Buy a new car – create jobs.
Invest in the market – capital drives growth.
Pay for your parent’s medical insurance – health care improves.
Enable Deadbeat Dads to come clean – or else.

Remember this is for every adult U S Citizen 18+ (including the folks who lost their jobs at Lehman Brothers and every other company that is cutting back). And, of course, those serving in our Armed Forces.

If we’re going to re-distribute wealth let’s really do it…instead of trickling out a puny $1000.00 (“vote buy”) economic incentive that is being proposed by one of our candidates for President.

If we’re going to do an $85 billion bailout, let’s bail out every adult U S Citizen 18+!

As for AIG – liquidate it. Sell off its parts. Let American General go back to being American General. Sell off the real estate. Let the private sector bargain hunters cut it up and clean it up.

Here’s my rationale. We deserve it and AIG doesn’t.

Sure it’s a crazy idea that can “never work.”

But can you imagine the Coast-To-Coast Block Party!

How do you spell Economic Boom?

I trust my fellow adult Americans to know how to use the $85 Billion We Deserve It dividend more than I do the geniuses at AIG or in Washington DC.

And remember, the Birk plan only really costs $59.5 Billion because $25.5 Billion is eturned instantly in taxes to Uncle Sam.

Ahhh…I feel so much better getting that off my chest.

Kindest personal regards,
 
T. J. Birkenmeier
PS: Feel free to pass this along to your pals as it’s either good for a laugh or a tear or a very sobering thought on how to best use $85 Billion!!

A reader e-mailed me to ask about the newspaper’s “obsession” with Lancaster landlord Bill McMichael.

I can’t speak for “the paper” but I can say that while I’m not particularly obsessed with him, I do find him a unique and somewhat enigmatic figure.

There is a disconnect there that I just don’t get.

Personally, he is one of the most congenial individuals I’ve ever met. Even though our stories do not always portray him in the best of light (to say the least), he is always pleasant and respectful in interviews. Even downright chatty at times.

One day I went to a breakfast meeting of landlords who were contemplating taking action against some of the city’s planned revisions to housing and rental codes. McMichael invited me in, saying he thought it would be good if people heard the “other side of the story.” But some landlords objected to my presence, saying it was not a public meeting, that I hadn’t been invited, and that a media interloper might inhibit open discussion.

McMichael asked me to wait outside the room and closed the door so the group could debate whether or not they wanted me there. A few minutes later he came out and said, “I have some bad news.” They had decided I should leave.

He was apologetic, and I found myself trying to reassure him that I wasn’t upset. After all, it was a private meeting in a private room of a privately-owned restaurant and if they believed they couldn’t discuss things openly and honestly with each other while I was there, fine.

A month ago we talked on the phone and he asked me how I was coping with the heat. It was an honest question; he seemed truly concerned. He then told me he was working on the roof of one of his properties one afternoon the week before, felt lightheaded, and decided he better stop.

He is also genuinely convinced the city is out to “get him,” (“they want me out” he said recently) and he may not be entirely wrong in that assumption. But that man is not the Bill McMichael they are out to “get.”

They’re out to get the landlord who maintains some downright squalid properties. I’m not going to go into the details here, but I’ve been in a few of the places and the conditions were appalling. The stories we’ve published pretty much tell the tale.

They’re out to get the landlord who ignores violation notices and engages in delay tactics that cost the city both time and money.

They’re out to get the same guy Lebanon was out to get. And did. He spent some time in jail and eventually sold all of his properties there.

That’s what’s so disconcerting. You’d think a guy like that would be rude, arrogant and insincere - at the very least.

But he’s not.

Even city officials who deal with him regularly will tell you that while he’s a pain in the neck professionally, in person he’s a nice guy. One told me he once asked him, “Bill, why do you do this to yourself? It can’t be worth the hassle.”

Even his net worth is up to debate. Some say he’s rich. Some say he lives pretty much hand-to-mouth. I’ve had a number of people tell me they see him at the free breakfasts and Thanksgiving dinners local churches and shelters prepare for the homeless and indigent. Whether that’s by choice or necessity, only he knows.

But city officials also say the money is irrelevant. They believe he loves “the hunt.” That he enjoys the mental and verbal sparring that takes place in meetings and courtrooms, and gets a particular kick when his knowledge of the law and of city codes enables him to keep officials at bay. Or that he thrives on the attention he gets – from inspectors, from police, from the court system. Not to mention the media.

A while ago after a city council meeting, a woman approached me and asked me if I was Gil Smart. (This mistaken identity is not a compliment to Gil, by the way.) I said no and told her my name.

She gave me the proverbial sideways look.

“Oh,” she said. “You’re the guy who’s writing those stories about Billy. He’s really a nice man.”

I said, “I’m sure he is, but have you seen some of the places he keeps for his tenants?”

She told me no, but then explained, “You know, he grew up in Sunnyside and didn’t live in a much better place there. Maybe he thinks that’s how people live.”

“But he drives around and sees other places,” I said. “He has to know that’s not the case.”

She thought for a moment and said, “Well, that’s true, I suppose. Then maybe he just needs some help.”

I have no idea what he needs. And after almost a year of meeting and talking with Bill, I still have no idea what makes him tick.