A Lockportian Looks Back.On March 9, 1984, Daniel Bil, LSHS '82,
enlisted in the United States Navy.
This 175-page paperback recounts the events and considerations leading up to that first career move and goes on to tell about basic training, Bil's specialist training, and his service onboard the naval nuclear submarine, USS New York City.
2190 Days is an excellent book for anyone, anywhere in the USA considering Navy service. A first-person account such as this is a valuable supplement of what a Navy prospect can learn from recruits and published official information. It is the next-best-thing to having a neighbor, about your own age, tell you frankly how it went for him.
This is not a Navy promotional piece. You'll read the good, the less favorable, and some of the circumstances surrounding important career decisions...highlights of Bil's 2190 days in Naval Service.
Mr. Bil is out of the Navy now living in Houston, Texas where he works in
the computer industry. Following his Naval discharge he earned a Bachelor's degree
in Computer Science. The book has just been published by Tate Publishing and is
available at Amazon.com and other outlets.
It retails for $12.95. Information on Lockport availability is pending. (3/10/06)
Kathleen
L. Riley, DeSales '72, now a college history professor, has focused on her
hometown for the subject of her first general interest book. Lockport - Historic
Jewel of the Erie Canal, goes on public sale November 21, 2005 in the Lockport area
where local interest books are sold. It can be purchased outside the area from
on-line bookstores or from the publisher, Arcadia Publishing.
Yes, it has lots of high quality pictures from the past 100+ years. It's prime quality, however, is that it is an excellent narrative, with most sources of information noted, and covers most all the major points of life and history of Lockport since the early 1800's. It is aimed at general readership so the index is light and footnotes lacking. However, it's easy to find the resource material used in the extensive and detailed Bibliography.
Even your Lockport Page staff, used to reading all there is to read about Lockport, found some "new-to-us" nuggets of local history. Dr. Riley seems to have covered it all; only missing one event, which allows our history writers at The Page to still score an "exclusive" if we ever get around to finishing up our research.
For $24.99 retail with 159 pages in softcover it will make a necessary addition to your local Lockport collection. We wouldn't be surprised to see it extensively used in local schools for many years into the future.
(11/17/05)
Paulette Peca grew up in Lockport and, over the years,
acquired quite a collection of old Lockport photos. Now, those treasures and many
more (about 200) have been collected in a glossy soft cover edition selling for $19.99.
The Lockport book of historic pictures is now on sale at local outlets
such as Lockport Locks & Canal Tours, and the Niagara County Historical
Society plus by mail from publisher, Arcadia Books. For those out of
Western New York, the book may be obtained from Amazon.com on the Internet or
directly by calling the publisher at 1-888-313-2665.
Peca is now a teacher at a private school in Great Britain and before that worked at WXXI-FM Public Radio in Rochester and for the Christian Science Monitor. Her family is still in Lockport and she's back perhaps a couple times a year to visit. The most recent visit was in part to kick off promotion of her new book.
Inside the book are pictures on a multitude of topics, timeframes, and locations about Lockport. It would be a challenge for anyone to identify all of the photos. Paulette takes care of that, however, with concise notes on the photos and the times. For those of us who dabble in photography, the book has a special interest and the quality of the photos reflect the advancement of the art...and of Lockport over the years. Recommended reading and viewing! -8/17/03
A graduate student at St. John's University, who toured Lockport in 1999 researching the life of Washington Hunt, has published a revealing report on the former New York State Governor, Lockport politician, and successful businessman of the mid 19th Century. The Life and Politics of Washington Hunt by Bradley Carlson tells the story of Hunt's wavering political positions, his solid success in the field of business, and his unsuccessful efforts to save the country from the Civil War.
Hunt was elected from the Lockport area to represent the 34th Congressional District (for three terms) after changing parties from the Democrats to the Whigs --- the first of many maneuvers he was to make for political opportunism. In addition to the U. S. Congress, Hunt gained election as New York State Comptroller, a District Judge, and of course as a single-term Governor of New York State. His major accomplishments were associated with expansion of the New York State Erie Barge Canal system --- a project that also helped many of the Lockport area businesses that Hunt held an ownership interest in over the years.
Less known were his unsuccessful efforts to avoid the Civil War. Hunt worked against the election of Abraham Lincoln feeling (correctly) that Lincoln would allow the country to go to war over the slavery issue. Although in his early political years, Hunt posed as an opponent to slavery, he always felt that it was a state's rights issue. He stressed that slavery was constitutional in southern states and thus should be allowed there but prevented from expanding to other states as the union grew. He predicted social chaos would follow a flood of freed slaves to the north. His efforts, and those of others, to stop the election of Lincoln were a failure and at this point his political career was essentially over, and, the Civil War was on.
But for Hunt there was life after politics. He continued successfully in the business world where he made large amounts of money from his involvement in real estate, the Lockport Hydraulic Race Company, Holly Manufacturing, banking, and the Merchants Gargling Oil Company. He died in New York City at the age of 55.
Author Brad Carlson is presently working toward a doctor's degree in History and plans to teach history at the university level.
A book by a former Lockport resident, Frank Bredell,
has been praised in publications circulated by Midwest Book Review to libraries,
bookstores and other distributors of books.
Bredell's book, a memoir called "Lockport Boy," was called "a superbly written
and totally engaging memoir that offers us a 'window in time' to a slice of American life
that now lives only in nostalgia."
The book is about growing up in Lockport in the 1930s and 40s and is
now in its fourth printing since first becoming available a little over a year ago.
It is being sold in book and gift shops in Lockport and other outlets throughout Western
New York. Copies autographed by the author can also be ordered by sending a check
for $14.50 to the publisher, Andiamo Press, Box 484, Lincoln Park, MI 48146.
The review published by Midwest Book Review has appeared in
"Wisconsin Bookwatch," "Internet Bookwatch," and is posted on the
company's website. It has also been supplied to Gale Research Co. for that firm's
"Book Review Index," published quarterly on CD ROM
Bredell was born in Lockport and grew up on Waterman Street, thus
filling the early pages of his book with tales about antics of the eight to ten-year-old
boys who made up the "Waterman
Street Gang." He graduated from Lockport High School in 1948, Alfred
University in 1952, and the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism in 1953.
1-17-01
More than a history of dairies, it's a history
of Lockport! Paul Oates has extensively researched the Lockport area dairy
industry for his book for about seven years. However, that intensive work came after
an interest in Lockport diaries and the collection of their bottles and promotional
materials began in childhood. The result is a 191-page paperback, now on sale for
$15 (including sales tax) that probably will remain the definitive Lockport Dairy History
for ....forever.
The book's cover shows his great grandfather and great-grandmother, Patrick and Molly Oates. They operated the Oates Dairy (founded in the 1890's) in the 1930's from 340 East Union Street in Lockport. Having that family dairy background was the initial incentive for collecting and study by the local well-known WLVL air talent. The book has 24 pictures of many of the great memories of Lockport dairies. Bottles, ads and promotions, locations, and families. It details each of over 20 dairies that operated in the Lockport area plus some very small operations as well.
Most interesting is how major dairies, one by one, gradually closed or were merged into Castle's Citizens Dairy. Castle's in turn was bought up by the regional Dairylea cooperative in 1970 and closed within months. The demise of the local diaries was partly the result of unwillingness of the consumer to pay extra for home delivery at a time with mega-dairies from outside Niagara County were putting milk in supermarkets with prices near what it cost some local operations to bottle it. Strangely, Oates points out, Castle's was prevented from expanding outside Niagara County itself by what can not be seen as discriminatory regulations and licensing. Probably a matter of politics. However the smell this bit of history gives off some 30 years later is of possible "payoffs" by those who wanted to close down Castles.
Oates is generous in name-dropping throughout his book. Most every Lockportian over age 40 will find a name of a friend or relative mentioned. Lockport dairies were so much a part of Lockport back through the 1960's. Your editor especially enjoyed the extensive history of Castle's presented and the recollections of the Castle family. The book even lists more than 300 former employees of Castle's. And for those who want to remember those wonderful times at local dairy soda fountains...this is the media!
Paul Oates will be at the Niagara County Historical Society on Saturday, November 4th from 2-4PM for a book signing. His book is on sale there now, in the Society's gift shop. (See additional info under Lockport Literati Photo Album) (10/31/00)
Beatles author arrested. The Lockportian who has written multiple books about the The Beatles was arrested Thursday, 9/1 by Lockport Police for "obstructing governmental administration." 47-year old Geoffrey Giuliano was charged at his Lower Market Street home and temple after police responded there for a reported domestic dispute between Giuliano's son and the son's girlfriend. Police say they were ordered off the property, called "Robo Cops," and "stupid idiots" by Giuliano. Giuliano was released on $500 pending a court appearance. (9/2/00)
Oates author of new book on Lockport dairies. WLVL Radio personality Paul Oates is the author of a just completed comprehensive historical book on Lockport dairies. With the manuscript completed and going to the printer following seven years of extensive research and writing, the first copies are expected off the press by Fall. A History of Lockport, New York Dairies, 1895-1970 will detail all the Lockport dairies with historical picture highlights. Oates knows much more than the results of seven years of work on the book. He's had a lifelong hobby of collecting local milk bottles and dairy memorabilia --- an interest probably sparked by his own family diary. So yes, Oates Dairy history and pictures will be featured along with comprehensive backgrounds and stories about Castle's Citizens Dairy, Gascoyne's, Randleigh Farm, Garlock's, Behm's, The Lockport Dairy, and Wyle's. Watch for further details here at The Lockport Page. (7/8/00)
Retired educator writes account of locals in
Civil War. Wilbur Dunn of Newfane has published a massive effort detailing
accounts of local volunteers from the Niagara-Orleans County areas who fought in the Civil
War. Many of those from here volunteered for service in a regiment, under the
command of Colonel Peter A. Porter. This is their story.
The saga opens with the gathering of the volunteers in a parade ground just east of today's Washburn Street in Lockport, between about Grant and Willow. From there they march through Lockport, to the rail station, and...off to war. The story, as the war, is a long one. It takes Mr. Dunn two volumes to tell it. The account is loaded with detail including quotations from the diaries and letters of over 50 of the regiment's local members.
Most area Civil War buffs must have read these volumes by now. Certainly the most comprehensive and authoritative of its kind available as relates to this area. This is a true historical reference in addition to an interesting account of local involvement in the Civil War. It is extensively foot-noted.
The 2-volume set is on sale for $29.95 at several local retail outlets including: The Niagara County Historical Society, Lockport Locks and Canalside Gift Shop, Cobblestone Gifts, and the Niagara County Historian's Office. It is also on sale at The Book Corner in Niagara Falls, The Niagara Frontier State park Gift Shops, and Old Fort Niagara. It can also be purchased directly from the author at 6133 Corwin Avenue in Newfane. Mr. Dunn will mail copies for an extra $2.95. Inquiry may be made by e-mail to Wilbur Dunn at: wrdunn@pce.net
In addition to being sold in several locations in Orleans, Genesee, Erie and Monroe Counties, Full Measure Of Devotion is also being carried by book stores and gift shops in several out-of-state locations. The visitors centers at the Richmond-Cold Harbor and Petersburg National Battlefield Parks which are operated by Eastern National carries it. The Harpers Ferry Historical Association sells it since the regiment spent a month in that location in 1863. The Farnsworth House at Gettysburg carries it even though the regiment did not take part in the Battle of Gettysburg, and the prestigious Abraham Lincoln Book Store in Chicago, Ill. also stocks it. (4/23/00)
Joyce
Carol Oates,
Prolific author, Now a Lockportian-At-Large living in New Jersey.
Material to be published must be submitted
by the original author. Submit short items in plain text via e-mail so that the manuscript
can be easily converted to these pages. If you wish to send via a WORD file, advise
before sending by regular e-mail.
Please certify material as "original work"and indicate it is being submitted for
publication without compensation.
Material protected by copyright can not be accepted without a full release from the
copyright owner.
Material that includes personal attacks, vulgarities, inappropriate references or
"adult content"
may have to be declined. Please understand. If in doubt submit or query.
Include your complete name and e-mail address and send to:
You know the house
Little red ranch on South Transit, just past Dysinger Road
been sitting there forever
It was there when South Transit Road was nothing more
than a fast and dangerous two lane strip of asphalt
on the way to the drive-in or bowling alley
It was there before Mike Smith Buick
and Home Warehouse
and the mini-mart and trailer park
It was there when living on South Transit was considered living in 'the country'
You know the house
Little red ranch with the three post, white slat wooden fence in front of the concrete
stoop,
weather-worn porcelain squirrel clinging to the lamp post
Along the western border of the property, a row of poplars swayed like weary sentries,
guarding the house against the cold winter winds
In the backyard, weeping willows mushroomed high and round
like giant, pale-yellow umbrellas shading the house from the thick summer heat
You know the house
And chances are, either you
or someone you know
knew the people who lived there
Mike and Fannie DeFabbio
Lived there for more than fifty years
Raised four kids in that little red ranch
Guided, nurtured, instructed, and corrected dozens more
regardless of how old that child became
Perhaps you were one of them
a long time ago
like me
now three thousand miles away
And you remember what it was like
to have a place to go
Where the door was never locked
and you could stop by anytime
for a cup of Red Rose tea
or a bottle of Schmidt's
and take a seat at the black oak table
that Mike made with his own hands
And if you were lucky,
there'd be some of Fannie's homemade gnocchi
left over in the refrigerator
Help yourself
And afterwards, we'll get out the cards and play a game of euchre
Little red ranch on South Transit Road
where we gathered before weddings
and after our funerals
and on every Christmas Eve
You know the house
Been sitting there forever
You've driven past it a thousand times
Maybe yesterday
Maybe fifty years ago
Doesn't matter
Looked the same back then as it does now
Except now you can see the silence
You see no cars in the driveway
no light in the windows
Its door is now locked
against any more visits
or celebrations
and Christmas Eve birthdays
No more refuge from our tragedies
The little red ranch has hosted its last wake
But you know the house
It will be there forever
in your heart
and memories
And in that place
- safe from decay and neglect
and urban sprawl
and used car lots -
the poplars still stand
and the willows still weep
The lights are still on
and the door is unlocked
The tea is still hot
and the beer is still cold
in that little red ranch
on South Transit Road
Jeff Price - Coos Bay, Oregon
jprice@uci.net
6/03
Photo: June 2003
By John Hollinshead
I awoke to a foggy day.
A gentle white cloud lay around me.
Every where you looked,
a enveloping mist clouded your view.
The lights on neighbors homes
were beckons of welcome.
The lights of oncoming cars
are like smiles of friends.
Surrounded by a quiet stillness
yet not alone.
Each emerging site
a new discovery and thrill.
Walking down a sidewalk.
Seeing people pop into view.
The warmth of the greeting
opening a gap.
The sigh of closure
as they disappear from sight.
Fog oh fog
what new surprises await.
A flower bed all twinkle with color.
The moisture slowly dripping down.
The solitary lamp post
we never noticed before.
The children’s toys scattered
on the lawn.
You image the laughter and joy
of them at play.
The sadness you feel
as the sun burns the fog away.
The exhilaration you experience
as the cloud returns to the sky.
May 17, 2003
By Aaron Robinson
You walked into my life,
Careless and free,
You walked into somewhere I needed you to be.
You filled a hole inside of me,
Somwhere Love was meant to be.
You didn't know it at first,
But,
Your love would quench my soul's thrist.
I truly am amazed that my dream came true,
And now,
Because of you,
I am yours for life.
When you are not near I can feel my heart call,
It calls for you to comeback.
You must be an angel,
Sent from above,
Filled with sincerity,
And Love,
You truly are my angel,
I love you ever so much,
And I know,
You are my angel from above.
By Aaron Robinson
I feel your heart beat slower,
You aren't going to be around much longer.
An illness has come over you,
Why?
Why does this stuff have to happen,
Why must everyone die.
I can understand death of old age,
But,
Why people so young?
I watch all my friends disappear,
And,
I am still here,
But,
Pieces of me are missing.
Why?
I feel the grasp of death emerging,
Taking what shouldn't be taken.
Yet,
It succeeds,
One day,
It will be me.
I try to make amends,
I try to make a last effort to be there,
But,
Sometimes,
I can't.
I just wish for once,
I can say good-bye.
To their face,
And,
Not to their coffin.
I love all those that have left.
But my question still remains...
Why?
Aaron Robinson is a resident of Pendleton.
5-17-02
Our winter's long, the wind blows hard, we do get lots of snow.
But then comes spring and summer time, and glorious shades of fall.
There's lush green trees, rivers, lakes, vegetables, fruits galore,
With a few minor adjustments,who could ask for more?
I'm here to say, "I plan to stay in Lockport till I die."
Give me a moment and I'll state some of the reasons why.
I can go to bed at night knowing the next day,
My butt won't be lodged in a tree sixty miles away.
Florida has her hurricanes, gators. snakes. and bugs.
Along the Mississippi, they're contending with the mud.
Then there's California,with fires, mud slides. and quakes.
In Texas they have spiders, scorpions, and snakes.
Mississippi is so hot it takes away you breath.
Arizona is so dry, it bakes your brain to death
Blown away in Kansas, Dorothy's looking for Toto.
Hawaii,and Washington have hot volcanisic flows
Well I'll just sit here by the fire and watch the snow flakes fall.
Eat popcorn and marvel at the beauty of it all.
With so much natural beauty, Lockport's just right for me.
And there's no place in all the world that I would rather be.
Verlie Rose (c)
7-7-01
A Note From Verlie Rose About Her Love Affair With Lockport
My family came to Lockport on July 13th, 1955. Having spent a good portion of my seventeen years working on the farm, and sawing mining props on one end of a crosscut saw, I decided there had to be an easier way to make a living. To keep my older sister and me from joining the WACS, our Dad said that we could choose any city in the US and the whole family would go there together. We chose Lockport.
Daddy didn't drive, so he
hired a taxicab to bring us to Lockport I'll never forget the taxi coming up that dusty
dirt road to take
us on a fairy tale journey. At five o'clock on June 12th, we crammed all we could into the
trunk, and headed out for the big city of Lockport, NY.
We were packed like sardines in the back seat. Along with me, there was my 18 year old sister, my 16 year old brother, and my two younger sisters 13 and 11. Mom, Daddy and the driver were in the front seat. We drove all night, and arrived in Lockport around noon the next day. Mama was so car sick we thought she wouldn't make it.
Within one week, My sister and I were rolling gum balls at Ford Gum, at Church and Niagara Streets my Brother was bagging groceries at Loblaws, Mama was washing dishes at the Park Hotel, and Daddy was packing apples in a cold storage on Niagara St. (maybe it was Ontario St.) My two younger sisters were still in school. None of us made much money, but the family was together, and it was better than working in the woods and farming.
I also worked in Grant's 5 & 10 ( there were three 5 & 10cent stores downtown) and The Carl Co, with it's 4 cent counter...After my children were in school I worked at Korff Furniture, in the Gift court. Downtown used to be so pretty at Christmas time. The Salvation Army singing and ringing bells on the corner.Now if you walk up Main St,the wind blows so hard across the open spaces you can't stand up.
I finished up my working
years at GM Harrison Div. I am so grateful to Lockport, and to my Daddy and Mama for
bringing us here.
Daddy stayed until he was
sure we could make it on our own, then he and Mama went back to the old homeplace. He went
to the farm where our cattle were grazing. He called out to them. They raised their heads,
then came running to him. He bought every one of them back. He found one horse, Old Dan.
but could never find Old Charlie. I remember the first day I saw Old Charlie. Daddy had
gone to buy hay. The man had Old Charlie hooked up to a sled loaded with hay.
Charlie was old and bony, he had lost most of his teeth. He was unable to pull the loaded
sled. The man was whipping him. .Charlie was hunkered
down, pulling with all his might, but he couldn't budge the sled. Daddy couldn't stand to
see animals mistreated. He bought the horse and harness,. he left the hay setting in the
field. Daddy worked in the woods until he was well into his eighties. He never regretted
bringing us to Lockport.
I have traveled through forty-eight states. Not one has so much to offer as Western NY. My three sisters and me all married men from Lockport. We've raised our families, and now our children are raising our Grandchildren in Lockport. Lockport has afforded us a good life. I had to take a medical retirement because of Parkinson's Disease. I started hosting a Country & Gospel Singing. I have met so many beautiful, caring people. Always there to give a hand to someone in need.
Yes ......I Love
Lockport!
Verlie Rose
Once again, it is that time of year,
When Little League baseball is about to start.
And being a Little League manager,
I must look into my heart.
Last years team was mediocre,
And we almost finished last.
But, that should have no meaning,
Must not look into the past.
Soon practices will begin,
Children showing up with hope,
With dreams of being hero's
And with parental pressure they must cope
Now is the time to muse,
What goals for this years team.
The players must strive to win,
But having fun, must be the main theme.
So, whatever the year may bring,
A finish of first or last,
Important are the memories,
When as adults, they look to the past.
Robert W. Stoll
What is heaven? Heaven in my opinion is a thousand things.
I shall only mention a few.
Heaven is your Mother's touch, a hug from Dad, an Ice Cream
Cone,that first Bike, Puppy Dogs, First time on the Honor Roll, the
Teaching and Guidance of Sister Mary Patricia, Caring Relatives,
consisting of Family provided and acquired, especially realized in later
life, Genuine Friends Living and Dead.
Heaven is that first kiss, Hitting a Homerun, catching a
touchdown
pass, passing your drivers test, Graduation, that first car, Hearing
your favorite song on the radio, fixing your first car.
Heaven is that so important Wonderful Love that shows in your
Girls
eyes and melts your Heart, Your Wedding Day, the Consumation, a Loving
wife, Your first born Child, a day at the Beach, a Job you like, a
little praise, enough money to live on, seeing them all Happy each day
You return Home, Good Health for many years.
Yes, Heaven is all these things and many more I have experienced.
I
worry not about the existence of Heaven or Hell. I have already had
HEAVEN ON EARTH....
DJS 10/26/1999
I awoke nearly frozen, lying face down in the black
slush alongside Chestnut Street. My surprise at my predicament was compounded by my
sudden awareness that I was dressed as C. Everett Koop, complete with pseudo-military
dynamarks and fake Mormon beard. So this is how it feels to be in love.
We met at a TV game show convention in Pendleton. She
and I were the only ones in line waiting for autographs from Charles Nelson-Reilly,
and we discovered we shared a love of the man as well as a mutual curiosity regarding the
hyphenation of his last name. Was he married? Did he take the last name of his
spouse while retaining his own? Secretly, we both hoped that our idol
was single, available, and looking for rural fan club love. Imagine our
disappointment when he failed to show; we quickly snagged the autograph of Nipsey
Russell and decided to drown our sorrow by sharing a cup of decaf at the mini-mart down
the street.
We must have stood by the checkout for three hours that
day, sharing our impressions of the courageous Bill Cullen, the perky Wink
Martindale, the sassy and saucy Kitty Carlisle. Her name was Peggy;
thankfully, I stood facing the checkout and spent most of the time looking at the
extensive display of men's magazines behind the counter. She wasn't what you would
call a looker, but neither am I, and our attraction went beyond petty concerns like acne
and body odor. When she suggested we go straight to a local motel where she rented a
room by the week, I was too intoxicated by her charm and the cold decaf to protest.
Entering the room, I immediately sensed that something was
amiss. The walls were covered with enlarged scenes from the Wizard of Oz, most of
which were smeared with what appeared to be clam chowder. As the door closed behind
me, I felt her presence approaching. With the speed of a lioness stalking a hobbled
retired seamstress, she was upon me. I hadn't noticed her powerful (and hairy!)
forearms until they closed around my neck. Forcing me to drink large amounts of what
tasted to be a mixture of peach schnapps and ny-quill, my recollections are few beyond her
initial advance. I do seem to recall her dressing as a flying monkey from Oz,
leaping from bed to bed, screeching like a great horned owl. I also remember chain
smoking chesterfields while being forced to recite the many variations of the surgeon
generals warnings. My other recollections are too bizarre to relate and I cannot
vouch for the accuracy of my memory.
And so, this brings me back to my waking moments in the
cold Lockportian sludge. I cannot recall the details of the hotel or how we arrived
there; if there is another local citizen who has shared a similar encounter with this
woman, please relate your tale to me directly. It is said that true love comes but
once in a lifetime, and my life will only be complete when it is filled with mornings
similar to the cherished moments described above.
LoydBraun@aol.com
1/31/99
For most
of the year men go on with the daily lives upon which they have staked their fortunes,
their honor, and their dreams. Then, suddenly, into this reality is cast a time of
year when the thoughts of the life of Another elevate the ordinary into the realms of the
extraordinary.
A simple scene; a hardened place made fine by the presence of a family
in its moment of supreme joy, transcended by the character of a moment supreme in the
history of man. A savior has come which will guide men away from the darkness of
their times and into the glory of new life. A calling will go forth that will bring
all the lost and forgotten home.
At last a way is open to a rich and rewarding life, humble in its way
for the proud, and exalting for the weak. The "voice of one calling in the
desert" can reach at last the ears of those who will hear. The cold, clear
reaches of the evening sky is lighted by the glow of a star heralding the birth in a small
country town of He who will lead the forgotten out of their error and into the new dawn of
an ever-lasting reward.
The spirit of Christmas, unblemished by the assaults of false ideals,
stands open, supreme in inspiration to those with hearts to feel its meaning. Peace
on Earth at last, not in the actions and counter-actions of those remote from its meaning,
but inscribed in the nature of the individual.
We cry for peace and there is no peace. We protest that we are
not understood, and we are not. Yet at last a season of the year awakens the
realization that we can have peace in its highest sense, and be understood by One who
understands all.
Powerful engines of propaganda admonish us each season to observe only
the true spirit of Christmas. Gross commercialism is to be avoided. Yet what
is this true spirit and meaning after which we must seek? How are we to know when we
attain it and when we do not?
Far better it seems to realize the lasting hope born in Bethlehem
nearly two thousand years ago and to answer the call to the life born this day.
Christmas comes once a year, yet its truth must always be with those
awaiting the rapture of its promise, kept alive eternally by a life based upon the example
of One born this day to lead the dedicated to their salvation. When this can be,
when it can stand as the light before which all men kneel, then, at last, can come
"Peace on Earth, good will toward men."
Back in the '70s, a group of local bikers wanted to have a summer bash in a secluded city park. They weren't exactly a clean-cut group, but they must have been loyal because very few ever left to join bigger groups like the Hell's Angels.
Of course, getting into the Hell's Angels was no easy task considering the rigorous interview-and-aptitude application process. ("Yes, Mr. Snake, your rap sheet is impeccable, but how are you going to be a benefit to our organization?") Anyhow, the local bikers went to city hall and got a permit to have their party.
This had many residents up in arms. How could the city allow such a thing to happen? Didn't those fools at city hall know about all the pillaging and plundering that would result? Fortunately, all the residents' fears were unfounded. On the weekend of the party, the music got a little loud at times, but the bikers pretty much kept their drunken debauchery to themselves.
And isn't that usually the case? We worry ourselves to death about nothing. We let our minds run rampant and conjure up all kinds of unpleasant scenarios that never come true. But sometimes it's the things we're not worrying about that we should be. I say this because never in my wildest imagination did I ever worry about a herd of drunken elephants flattening my town, but that is exactly what happened Christmas morning in a village near Dhaka, Bangladesh.
According to the Reuters news service, about 25
elephants went on a holiday rampage after drinking a strong tribal brew, flattening houses
and sending Bangladeshi villagers fleeing. The herd, which had apparently come from the
hills in India's Meghalaya state, stormed into nearby Dighakon village -- home to tribal
Garo families -- in Bangladesh's Amalpur district. The elephants, trumpeting noisily, came
early on Thursday morning and soon discovered the liquor made by Garo tribals to celebrate
Christmas. "The elephants got drunk and launched an attack," said one witness.
Of course, if the village has just approved the herd's Christmas party permit in the first
place...
12/31/97
To help you ward off the holiday blues, here are some strange sights seen in Christmastime exchange lines around the globe:
For example, at a department store in Manhattan, former sports announcer Marv Albert was hoping to swap a tie for a teddy. "Yesss!," Marv exclaimed when he discovered the store still had that little red silk "number" he'd had his eye on.
Comedian Jerry Seinfeld was exchanging "nothing," he was just waiting in line getting story ideas for the final episode.
In Las Vegas, former boxing champ and current thug Mike Tyson was trading in a belt he'd never grow into for some Adolph's meat tenderizer.
In Washington, President Bill Clinton was seen exchanging a fruit basket for a Big Mac Value Meal. (Can you say Supersize it?) At the same time, plaintiff Paula Jones had the longest wait in line. It got to the point that she was willing to trade the nose on her face…for the nose from anyone else's face, except maybe Karl Malden.
In Buffalo, Bills owner Ralph Wilson was trading in coaches, players and a sweet lease deal in Erie County for a sweeter lease deal out of town.
In California, suspended NBA player Latrell Sprewell was willing to swap whatever it takes to get his NBA career back. (Doesn't Sprewell remind you of the Wizard of Oz scarecrow? -- "My coach I'd not be chokin', my career would not be broken, if I only had a brain."). Meanwhile, attorney Johnnie Cochran was trading the last vestiges of his soul for a few more pieces of gold.
In Hong Kong, there was a chicken turning in its frequent flyer miles for the fastest plane out of town.
12/31/97
There are only a couple of ways to go from a round of 189 to a round of 67.
One way is creative score-keeping. The other is to practice, practice, practice.
Lockport's Jack Ioannone chose the latter and in the last couple of decades he has gained the reputation as one of the area's top golfers. "When I was growing up, golf was a 'rich man's' game," said the 54-year-old Ioannone. If you didn't have money, you concentrated on other sports like football, baseball and basketball.
Ioannone excelled in all three of those activities. He was one of the key players on the Niagara Permanent baseball team, which captured several titles in the Erie-Niagara semi-pro league during the 1960s and '70s. He played and coached football at the high school level. He also was a standout basketball player and later a coach for Lockport High.
But it was while he was attending Buffalo State College, working towards his teaching degree and playing collegiate basketball, that Ioannone, who has taught science in the Lockport School district the past 31 years, discovered the game of golf.
"One of my buddies at school talked me into trying the sport," said Ioannone. "I shot a 189 my first time out and I fell in love with the game.
"Most people would have quit after shooting a 189, but I saw it as a
challenge."
There's no question Ioannone was up to the challenge. Ioannone, usually one of the smallest players on the field or the court, was always up to a challenge. What he may have lacked in size, he made up for by just plain out-working other players. There's room in football or basketball to be aggressive. But that isn't really the case in golf and it was one of the adjustments Ioannone had to make.
"I think one of the most important things you have to learn in golf is to take what the game gives you," Ioannone said. "An old golf axiom is that trees are mostly air so we try to make that magical shot through the branches. Or we think we can clear the lip on a bunker or we want to hook it or slice it around an obstacle.
"Young or inexperienced players, especially, want to take those chances. But most times you'll discover it's best to just get the ball back in play-- take the stroke and continue the game instead of bogging down by trying to hit the perfect shot."
Ioannone, a five-time Chestnut Meadows Golf Club champion, has had Mike Finn as one of his partners for the past 10 years.
"Jack is an excellent golfer and a real competitor," Finn said. "He knows the way the game is supposed to be played. And he doesn't ever quit. He may hit a bad shot and you think you have him, but he finds a way to come back.
"But it's not a win-at-all-cost thing with Jack. I remember one time he was playing against Bob Moreland, who's another excellent golfer, in a match play event. Bob conceded a putt but Jack either didn't hear him or thought the putt was too long and putted away. He missed the shot, but Bob told him to take it anyhow, which started a friendly 10-minute discussion about whether or not the putt was good.
"That's just the way Jack is. He's not going to take anything that isn't his. And as well as he knows the game, he's not going to embarrass you. I remember before we became partners, we were in a match when I missed a putt that cost my team. At the time, all I could think about was how I let my team down. But Jack came over to me and quietly gave me some encouragement and a tip. He doesn't try to overwhelm you with his knowledge."
Ioannone's knowledge of the game was one of the things that earned him the job of Lockport High School golf coach 25 years ago, a job he stills holds. His teams have won five championships in recent years.
"To tell you the truth, I don't have a lot of time to fix anything with my golfers (on the LHS team)," Ioannone said. "The team golfs in the fall and by the time I get them, they've been golfing for several months.
"I may try to make some minor corrections, but our season is only five weeks long, so if there are some major flaws, I tell them they have to fix things in the off-season. The thing that has improved our team the most in recent years is the junior program. People like Duke Wellington spend a lot of time with the kids teaching them the game, so my job is to refine them."
The junior program has produced golfers like Steve Wakeman, Gene O'Byrne IV and David Phillips in recent years. Prior to that, Ioannone helped shape golfers like Chuck Kandt, Lou Valery and Tom Yaeger. Wakeman earned a Buffalo District Scholarship while O'Byrne and Phillips went on to the University of South Carolina to play. Kandt is a pro in Florida; Yaeger is co-owner of Oak Run Golf Club in Wrights Corners, while Valery has won tournaments in New York, Florida and California.
"These are some of the best golfers I've coached," Ioannone said. "You also have to include Scott Intihar on that list. You're not always sure what you're imparting to these players. But if I could choose what they would say about me as coach it would be that I was fair, that I respected the game and its rules and that I had some fun."
Ioannone said he tries to play everyone on the team at least a couple rounds each season. In addition to coaching some of the best high school players in the area over the years, Ioannone has played against a number of the best men golfer in WNY.
"As far as some of the best golfers I've competed against, you've have to put Dick Brown right up at the top of the list. Bill Pullano, Craig Smith, Willard Cropp, Louie Rossetti and Ron Romanowski also deserve mention, and of course, I'm going to leave a lot of people out.
"But these golfers all have something in common. They're very strong fundamentally and very knowledgeable about things like grip, stance, follow-through; but most importantly, they put the time in practicing. You'll always see them at the driving range or the chipping or putting green.
"And for anyone who may be starting out or who wants to improve his/her game, I'd recommend getting the videos by Ken Venturi or Johnny Miller. They're excellent videos and you'll learn so much more from golf videos than you will from golf books."
Ioannone said his game improved by leaps and bounds when he began working with former golf coach Dick Shea. "Dick gave me a few tips and my scores went from the 100s to the 80s," Ioannone said. "And then he gave me a few more tips on chipping and putting and I started shooting in the 70s. But you have to work on the tips you get. You have to put the time in.
"I don't know if I have a strength in my game, but I would say the least of my weaknesses is my play around the green," Ioannone says modestly. "There's no question Jack has worked on his game as much as anyone around," Finn said. "He probably doesn't play as much as he used to but he still puts the time in practicing. And it really shows with his playaround the green. He has one of the best short games of anyone I've seen play."
Ioannone's best round, a 67, came in 1980 at the Niagara County Course in Lockport. He shot a 68 at Oak Run in Wrights Corners in 1991. "The thing you remember about those rounds is how it feels when you strike the ball," Ioannone said. "It's like hitting a home run in baseball. You don't feel the ball come off the bat. It just feels so light. And everything you hit feels that way.
"When you have rounds like that, golf is the best game in the world."
September 14, 1997
The near-death phenomenon was a hot topic a few years ago but it seems to have somewhat died out (pardon the pun). As usual, I'm a little behind the times. I didn't start researching the subject until a few months ago. I have to say, though, the more I read about it, the more grave my concerns are about dying and the afterlife.
It seems that in every near-death experience, an angel appears before the person and says, "Sorry, there's been a mistake. It isn't your time yet." Wow, can you imagine if heaven is no more organized than the Department of Motor Vehicles?
I can see it now. A person lives a long, arduous life, never wavers, his faith never falters. He figures, "If I keep the faith, when I die, there'll be a quick howdy-do with St. Pete at the Pearly Gates and then I'll prance right into eternal peace and happiness." But instead of a quick trip through the tunnel and into the light, the tunnel is jammed-packed and it takes forever, and when you finally do get to the Gates, there's a sign saying:
"LUNCHBREAK."
There's a lone angel sitting behind the gates, eating devil's food cake.
The angel, feeling guilty, puts a finger to his lips and says, "Shhh, please don't tell anyone what I'm eating."
"No problem," I reply. "But how come we're the only ones here? I thought the Pearly Gates were always open?"
"Used to be that way," the angel says. "Used to be we had an angel for everyone. Those were the days. But ever since Hoffa got here and we unionized, things have gone to…well, you know where.
"I mean, it was good for awhile, but then things got tight and the Big Boss decided He had to downsize. Now it's just me and St. Peter, but St. Peter got burned out doing life reviews years ago. Which is understandable, because you just keep hearing the same old stories over and over. The last decent life review I did was Nixon's. Wait 'til you meet that guy! And I'm looking forward to O.J.. Wow, I can't wait to hear some of those rationalizations.
"Anyhow, really it's just me because St. Peter's been kinda kicked upstairs. Now he's thinking up surveys on how we can better serve you. We never actually get around to implementing any of the suggestions, but we figure it makes you feel better to think you have some input."
"Well, how come I'm the only one in line, angel?"
"To tell you the truth, I'm surprised you got here so quick. The traffic in that tunnel is unreal. People are supposed to be feeling peace and happiness by the time they get to the Gates, but lately they've gotten here feeling very edgy and they take it out on me. It affects you after awhile. I'm drinking more nectar every day and I've started being mean to my lamb. I'm thinking of asking for a transfer."
"Well, I'm kinda anxious to get in. How much longer is your lunch?"
"Ah, well, you see, your concept of time and our concept of time aren't quite the same. So, why don't ya have a seat, and I'll be right with ya."
Yep, just like the DMV.
September 11, 1997