Weekly Wilson

Terrible Toyota Tundra

I decided to post this account of my car accident of March 31, 2011, to warn other drivers who might not want to have their small car crushed by a giant silver behemoth of a truck, simply because they are driving up Kennedy Drive, on their way to Best Buy to purchase 3 flash drives. Not in any particular rush. Just 12 blocks or so away from home.

For those who live in the Illinois Quad Cities, I want to warn you of this “most dangerous” intersection…(or one of the most dangerous)…in the city. I mean, of course, 30^th Avenue and Kennedy Drive, right where the Walgreen store sits. I was driving south toward the Jewel store on Kennedy Drive. I came to the intersection mentioned above and noticed that there were several cars in the left turn lane (which would be a turn to head your car toward Silvis, something I did every morning for 17 and ½ years, so I know that turn well).

I was paying attention. I was only driving 30 mph. You have to pay attention in the East Moline to Moline area, or you will be picked up for speeding. I try to always run radar. The border between Moline/East Moline on 30^th Avenue as you drive towards Wilson Junior High School is particularly problematical.

There is a hill on 30^th Avenue, or perhaps it is more accurate to call it a dip. As your car heads towards Moline (from East Moline) the speed limit drops from 35 mph in East Moline to 30 mph in Moline, with almost no marking. And this happens at the bottom of a hill. So, the police thoughtfully park their vehicles on a side street, wait for you to reach the bottom of the hill and (probably) move above 30 mph, so that they can give you a ticket for speeding.

At the bottom of said hill you are usually  “fair game” to be picked up for speeding, since you may have inadvertently picked up speed as you coasted down the hill (it’s called gravity), and you are entering Moline’s 5 miles per hour slower speed limit, although you have not changed roads or directions. If this seems unfair to you, join the club. In order to be in strict compliance with the change in driving speed between Moline and East Moline, you’ll have to be applying your brake as you coast down the hill. Otherwise, you’ll be facing the music in court. Be aware. Be wary. You could try defying gravity, but I doubt if you’ll have much luck with this approach.

But I was not ON 30^th Avenue this day.

I was merely diving slowly (I only go 30 mph now everywhere to avoid speed traps like the one on 30^th Avenue mentioned above) up Kennedy Drive towards the Jewel store in Kennedy Square (and on past it to Best Buy out near Southpark Mall.)

As I approached the red light at the intersection of 30^th Avenue and Kennedy Drive, heading towards Kennedy Square (i.e., southbound) I stayed on the right side next to the right curb, since it was apparent that the left-turning cars would hold up traffic that merely wanted to go straight down Kennedy. Here comes the rub.
When you go THROUGH the intersection, still heading south towards Kennedy Square, the two-lane road often has cars parked along the right side curb. Not always, but often. This day, I considered myself lucky. No cars parked on the right. Clear sailing in the “right” lane, (which is not really a lane, but will ultimately narrow so that you will have to “merge” into the left lane.)

As I cleared the intersection, I noticed in my rear view mirror that a very large silver truck was tailgating me. The driver was practically in my back seat. He seemed to be going very fast, to me (remember: I’m the one who only drives 30 mph for the reasons mentioned above), but he may simply have been going 35 mph, the speed limit in East Moline (but NOT in Moline).

I glanced in my rear view mirror and commented, to myself, that I was glad I could continue to hug the right hand side curb and didn’t have to “merge” right away, because the person driving the truck was apparently in a much bigger hurry than me and very territorial about being first with a bullet. He was obviously an “Alpha Male” type who must remain in front of all other drivers at all times. Fine by me, I thought. You just go ahead and zip right on past me! I’ll just stay over here on the right, hugging this curb, until you take your giant silver whomper-stomper of a vehicle and head on down the road. Picture me saying, “Dum, dum, de dum”at that point. I also knew this intersection was a “ bad” one because my mother-in-law once had a car accident there when picking up my daughter from her piano lesson, so, no fool I, I would just hug that curb and let old Mr. Silverback or Silver Truck have the whole road for his giant ugly vehicle. No hurry on MY part to “merge.”
Unfortunately, just as I consciously willed this ill-mannered tailgating creep to zoom on down Kennedy Drive and leave me there, a curb-hugger, he hit me.

I heard a grinding, scraping, crushing sound, and my car shuddered violently. It nearly went out of control.  If this idiot pushed me into the oncoming northbound traffic (i.e., the cars coming from Kennedy Square and heading north up Kennedy Drive), I would be hit broadside. I was fighting to control the car and thinking, “This mouth-breathing Neanderthal just HIT me!”

I searched the right-hand side of the road, frantically looking for a place I could pull over and get my car (and me) out of harm’s way. Luckily, the vacant lot and not-very-heavily traveled gravel road at 35^th Avenue and 2^nd Street was immediately ahead on my right. I actually had the presence of mind to signal for a right turn before pulling over and stopping my car. I had already made a note of the license plate of the Silver Toyota truck, as I wondered if he would stop at all, since he had just rear-ended a small car driving ahead of him in traffic, a car he should not have been that close to in the first place.

Mr. Neanderthal jumped down from his silver truck and was waving his arms and screaming. Why was he screaming? Beats the hell out of me! HE had just creamed my vehicle, knocking it so violently that I almost was pushed into the ongoing traffic lane, and now HE was yelling at ME. What’s wrong with this picture?

I glanced quickly at the back wheel well area of my green Prius (“the grasshopper”) and saw that parts of it were sticking out at 90 degree angles from the rest of my car. (Ooooo. That can’t be good, I thought.) One thought I had was this, “I wonder if I can drive this car after he hit me and crushed the wheel well area? It might be that the piece that is totally turn off my vehicle will puncture the tire or something.” I said nothing to the wildly gesticulating elderly male driver so out-of-control in front of me. He had obviously hit me. It was too late for him to UN-hit me, so now we simply must deal with the consequences in an adult manner. Or so I thought. That only works if both of you are capable of behaving in an adult manner. I have learned recently that many MANY adults are arrested at a maturity level of a twelve-year-old. In fact, when I visited the State Farm insurance agency, the young girl helping me file the claim said, after she heard how awful the elderly drive had been, “Yeah. The old ones are worse than the younger kids, usually.” Food for thought. Cranky old person? A stereotype, but one this guy certainly fit. And, keep in mind…THIS guy’s vehicle was not hurt AT ALL. The policeman wrote down ZERO dollars damage to his truck, so why was HE screaming at ME? Seems rather immature and unfriendly and, also, potentially designed to distract attention from the very real fact that he had just rear-ended the vehicle of a woman who was even older than he was old, but was still capable of trying to act like a civilized human being, which, I have learned, to my chagrin, many Control Freak types are not. Get in their way and they freak out.

Mr. Neanderthal was now berating me. (Seems odd, but there you have it….) He was being totally uncivil. I immediately gave him my name. I asked him what his name was.

“I’m not giving you my name, you smart ass.”

Well, this was going well, wasn’t it?  I ask the man who has just ruined my car…(and damn near caused me serious bodily injury) for his NAME at the scene of an accident he has caused and he refuses to give it to me!

I tried a different tack. “I think we should exchange insurance information.” I went to my car to get mine out of the glove box.

Mr. Neanderthal says, “I ain’t giving you no insurance information. I’ll only give it to the po-lice.” (He pronounced police as 2 syllables.)

Since I frequently am in Chicago, a second home, and the Chicago police do NOT want to be bothered by people who are merely randomly running their vehicles into one another UNLESS one of them is hurt (neither of us was, fortunately), I mentioned this fact. “I’m not sure the police want to be called, unless there is personal injury, and we’re both okay.”

Wow! Wrong thing to say! And, I admit, more the way it works in the Big City than in East Moline, Illinois.
”You shut up, you smart ass.”

I think Mr. Neanderthal then also called me a liar or some other uncomplimentary thing for having shared this bit of Big City information about police responses to accidents in big cities which, admittedly, may not apply in what my friend D.J. refers to as “Poopyville.” (D.J. means no harm, and, himself lives in Las Vegas, so people who live in glass houses shouldn’t put down wholesome communities that are in the middle of nowhere, but D.J.said it, not me.)

Since I have endured quite a bit of verbal abuse online recently, which would include the Tea Party members who didn’t like the piece I did praising Eisenhower (go figure) and the ex-collaborator who has been trolling some really questionable sites and lying his ass off to the point that legal action will be taken, and now Mr. Neanderthal, who was being a complete jerk. Mr. Neanderthal didn’t need to admit guilt, but it would have been nice to have heard him say something human or compassionate like, “Gee, this is too bad.”

But no. Mr. Neanderthal, whose large silver truck had NO damage [but did have a number of colorful paint chips on his undented bumper] (makes you wonder how many other cars he has hit with his large ramming speed vehicle?) was going to simply verbally abuse me, waving his arms about and acting like a total child and complete jerk. In fact, I think there are even some rules about HAVING to give your name, if asked, at the scene of an accident, which someone closer to his size should remind him about. But this idiot wasn’t going to provide his name when politely asked.

At no time did I verbally abuse this person or call him names, or accuse him at that time of what he had done (i.e., ram into me while following too closely and driving too fast) but, hey! I could have said, “Look, you jerk! Look at the damage you just did to my vehicle! What-the-hell were you thinking, driving up behind me that fast?” But I did not say any of these things to the rude, unpleasant, 64-year-old creep who rear-ended me and then acted put out at ME! I knew he was working on some story that would make this (somehow) be MY fault. He was the type. I could just hear him now. And I could also imagine that, if I made any effort to speak with him further, Mr. Neanderthal might actually become violent.
True, it was only 3:30 in the afternoon. But I was a woman, driving alone, and an old fart with gray hair was waving his hands in the air in a threatening manner. Perhaps it was time to retreat to my vehicle and call for back up. Which I did.
Back up, in this instance, meant my retired husband, napping at home.

I got in my dented Prius, locked the doors, got out my phone, and dialed my husband, who was approximately 13 blocks away, asleep. He, in turn, called the police. I gave the spouse directions to my location just up the street and, within 5 minutes, the cavalry rode to the rescue.

For one thing, I needed someone with some mechanical aptitude to take a look at my wheel well and tell me if I could drive away from this fender bender.

For another, I might need someone to clock Fart Man if he took a swing at me.

For a third, men don’t really like to listen to “the little woman” and it would be far better if I had a man present, backing me up and telling this guy to shut up. I have known this since the days I spearheaded (some would say master-minded, but, with all the collective bargaining rights in the entire state of Wisconsin going under, perhaps masterminding something that only lasts for 31 years isn’t anything to brag about) collective bargaining rights in Silvis, Illinois. That would be the SEA efforts to gain collective bargaining rights. I insisted that a man stand up with me then, as Co-chairman of our teachers’ group, and I definitely wanted one here with me now.

By now, the police had arrived, which means one officer who seemed to be about 30 years old. Fart Man, the old Neanderthal who would not provide his name or insurance information but felt like a Big Man threatening a 5’ 2” woman whose car he had just ruined while driving like a maniac. Naturally, Mr. Neanderthal insisted on telling HIS story first. I ambled over near where he was bending the cop’s ear, because I just knew Neanderthal Man was giving a creative version of how innocent he was. [HE didn’t drive right up my rear end, practically into my back seat. HE wasn’t going fast. HE wasn’t tailgating. He was totally blameless, of course, and I should be hanged as a witch at sunrise.]

This seems to be quite the refrain of late. I had considered taking out an ad offering to be the “scapegoat” for all the world’s problems, (for a fee, of course.)  Mr. Policeman didn’t want me to listen in on the old fart’s version. He instructed me to go sit in my vehicle, which I did without protest, joining my husband there. He had found my insurance papers for me in my glove box when I became rattled at the prospect of imminent injury from Neanderthal man and fled to hide within my vehicle.

Now the young policeman (who actually said, after taking my statement that he wished we had met under different circumstances) took my statement (and it took him a really long time to write everything up, indicating that there was zero damage to Mr. Neanderthal’s vehicle, but $1,500 to mine.)

We have now taken my poor Grasshopper to the Toyota dealership and filled out claims forms with State Farm and I will be without a vehicle for some period of time while parts are ordered and repairs are made. I am grateful that I was not hurt. I am grateful, also, that Mr. Neanderthal was not hurt… although I wish he would try, for once in his selfish life, to put himself in someone else’s shoes and realize that tailgating someone and hogging the road (I would have had to merge, eventually, but HE was not going to let some little Libtard car push his big ol’ honkin’ Toyota Tundra around. HE was going to be Numero Uno in line and, if you don’t like it, well, I’ll just gun my vehicle and run right over you!) And I wasn’t even at the point of needing to “merge.” God only knows what he might have done if I HAD tried to merge, with him in the left lane. I’m glad I never tried to do so while his silver truck was on the loose.

That, my friends, was my Thursday afternoon (March 31), one day after my wedding anniversary (over 40, so alert the media). It was not the anniversary present I had most desired.

I hope Mr. Neanderthal learns to be civil, polite and courteous and also reads up on the rules about how you MUST give your name at the scene of an accident, something that he flatly refused to do. As for the “let’s call the cops” thing: I needed the cops more than he did, since he had obviously done this sort of thing before (judging from the variety of paint colors displayed on his undented bumper) and he seemed to be a very unpleasant, impolite, poorly raised creep. I’m not going to give you his name. He knows who he is. If there’s any justice an even BIGGER vehicle will tailgate him and cream his car some day, and maybe, if he’s as mouthy and unpleasant as he was to me, cream him, as well.
Whatever happened to the days when, if you rear-ended somebody who was driving ahead of you, it was an automatic ticket. That’s what it should have been, for this guy. But instead, he’s still out there, tailgating unsuspecting small vehicles and probably shouting “ramming speed!” as he hits them. And, of course, telling HIS fantastical story to the police FIRST, because God forbid anyone but Mr. Neanderthal is allowed to go first.
Doesn’t he remember the Beatitude that said, “The first shall be last?” Keep that in mind while speeding up Kennedy Drive in East Moline, Illinois, hoping to be able to, at some point, merge into traffic without having to fight your way in.

Elizabeth Edwards Stops at Davenport Democratic Headquarters in Poorly-Planned Last-Minute Campaign Stop

(*This article originally ran on www.blogforiowa.com in 2004, when I covered that presidential election for that blog. I am reprinting it at this time because news reports have said that Elizabeth Edwards is near death from terminal liver cancer. To see a newer take on my memories, go to www.AssociatedContent.com and read what I have written about my own father’s death from liver cancer, coupled with memories of this campaign stop in Davenport, Iowa, the day before the 2004 Presidential election. The day after that election, the couple announced that Elizabeth Edwards was suffering from breast cancer and, of course, we all know “the rest of the story.”

R.I.P., Elizabeth.

By Connie Wilson

The last stop.

Elizabeth Edwards is to “rally” the volunteers in Davenport at Democratic headquarters at 1416 West 16^th Street in Davenport the night before the most important election of my lifetime. Tempers are short. Nerves are frayed. Tension is high. These sentiments are probably shared by the candidates and their families. Lots of out-of-towners are here to work on election day, which is only hours away now. 

The “invitation” from Kerry headquarters in Des Moines to this event said, “Elizabeth Edwards will thank volunteers for building a surge of momentum for Kerry leading to Election Day.” I had visions of cup-cakes, pizza and beverages for hard-working volunteers. Guess again.

 I knew that the Democratic headquarters in Davenport was nearly unfindable. It has to be possibly the worst location for a Democratic headquarters in the nation. The Chicago volunteer I talked to on the phone, as I sought directions, agreed with me. I lived in Davenport for a year, and I could not find it, from Locust Street, during two previous daylight excursions. The Chicago native on the phone did tell me one thing that helped: “It’s an old school.”  Usually, when you call the place, trying to get directions, you get an answering machine that is full. Why? The Chicago volunteer said, “I don’t even know how you got through.” Me, either.

I remember the very accessible Howard Dean headquarters across from the Kahl Building fondly after seeing this place. And even the first Kerry headquarters, next to Major Art & Hobby was, at least, findable…. although not very large.

Twice before, I had tried to find the Democratic headquarters at 1416 West 16^th Street. Not easy. Tonight, Monday, November 1, 2004, it is dark, rainy and cold. As the Red Baron (in the Snoopy comic strip) would say, “It was a dark and stormy night.”

Still, I felt I should set off on my last adventure. I had high hopes that Elizabeth Edwards would sign the front-page photo of the daughter from the Sunday, October 24^th, Moline, Daily Dispatch. I especially hoped this, inasmuch as a Daily Dispatch reader from Geneseo had written a Letter to the Editor that appeared in Sunday, October 31’s paper, attacking all the students in the article, calling them all “dumb.”

I had dragged two copies of the front-page story to the last John Edwards rally at North High School in Davenport. Someone named Lisa, a Connecticut native here working for Kerry, offered to take the newspapers and try to see if she could get one of them autographed for my daughter and returned to me. I only had three. I gave her two. The papers disappeared, never to be seen again. Now I am down to one, which I have brought.

Tonight, as I arrive at the old schoolhouse and park a block and a half-away, walking towards the old school on the hill in a light downpour, it is obvious that having any opportunity to meet or greet Elizabeth Edwards is not going to be easy. The school does not lend itself to any sort of large group gathering. It is a long narrow corridor with small rooms off the corridor. (Think Catholic schools of old….rabbit warren….maze).

 Although, at one point, I caught a glimpse of Elizabeth Edwards, the Secret Service and local police are keeping everyone at bay. It does not appear that it is that “crowded,” but there are no risers, no room in which to gather. As a site for something like this, the place is, quite simply, a disaster. (“It was a dark and rainy night.”)

I did not bring my Press Pass credentials. I did not think this was a “formal” Press opportunity. I was wrong. The Channel 4, 6, and 8 people are taken back, separately, one at a time, as are a couple of print people.

I ask “Matt,” the advance man, if I can take ONE photo of Mrs. Edwards, for www.blogforiowa.com. He nervously ignores me, not even bothering to answer, busily taking a variety of other reporter types through the hallway, past me.

I ask again. And again. I have seen this guy at the last three to four rallies.  I know him on sight, now, as he does me. Perhaps he views me as a pest, at this point. I am not “important” enough. I am sure that Mrs. Edwards is “busy,” but I am also sure that this sort of treatment is what one would expect of the Republicans, not the Democrats. It is intrinsically unfair and “elitist,” and, also, out of touch with the times, since “blogs” are the wave of the future, according to a recent “New York Times” Sunday article.

My advanced degrees are in journalism and English. I have written for five papers over the span of 49 years. Why or how am I “less important” or “less skilled” than those being given access, while I am being told to “keep the aisle clear” and “make sure that this door closes”?

The obvious answer is “readership” or circulation, but, in some ways, OUR readership, at this point in time, is more important, as we are the Democratic “loyalists” that have helped bring this campaign this far, as Paul Eiger so eloquently put it in an e-mail I recently received. We may have started out in Howard Dean’s camp, (and we still believe in Howard Dean), but we have swallowed our pride and worked hard to help this ticket. None of that matters this night. (*Note: the less obvious answer was that Elizabeth Edwards was a very sick woman and had just found that out.)

Finally, desperately, I take pictures of the other people with me  who are standing in the hall without a prayer of laying eyes on Elizabeth Edwards, let alone being “thanked” or “greeted.” (“All of you keep this aisle open. Everyone away from the door. One line, only, please. Make sure that we can open that door.”).  I feel like I’m back at the Cheney rally on Saturday night, when they wouldn’t let us leave the building!

One of these no-luck individuals (pictured) is Samantha Pieczynski, of Davenport. I tell Samantha that I am going to label her smiling photo  as “Mrs. Edwards.” We laugh.

The other gentleman, Norm Bower by name, also of Davenport, asks if I want a quote. “Sure,” I say. His quote: “It is of paramount importance that George W. Bush not be re-elected so that he not be allowed to appoint Justices to the Supreme Court of the Land.” Good quote, Norm.

A young woman in corn rows (obviously an out-of-towner working for the campaign) passes, acting like she feels she is very important (they often do). I ask her if I can get a picture of Mrs. Edwards now. (All other press people have pretty much had their shot …pun intended…, so it would seem that perhaps, now, it is “my turn.” But no 

The oh-so-important volunteer says, airily, “Oh, she’s already left the building.” As soon as this campaign worker descends the staircase and is out of hearing range, the young man next to me says, “She’s not out of the building .She’s RIGHT THERE!” And he gestures towards a classroom or cubbyhole less than 10 feet from where we are all mashed against “the door that must be able to be opened and closed.” In other words, we have just been told an outright lie.

I finally see the writing on the wall. We are never going to get so much as a look at Elizabeth Edwards. We can all forget about the sentiment where it said, “Elizabeth Edwards will rally volunteers .. thank local supporters…Mrs. Edwards will greet local volunteers and speak about the importance of getting out the vote on Election Day.” (Ha!)

None of this is Elizabeth Edward’s fault, of course, but this is the least-well-planned event on the campaign trail, so far. As I leave, I see the corn-rowed worker, and I say, sarcastically, “Thanks for all your help.” She looks at me, puzzled. I add, “I didn’t think that the Democrats would take up where the Republicans left off , blatantly lying to us, quite so quickly.” She scurries for cover. I am angry.

Matt sees this. I have not been treated this poorly at any time during the past 9 months. Matt says, “Why don’t you go see Lisa?” He sees that I am mad enough to tear up, which I am.

Lisa is, apparently, the “smoother-over” person. At this point, I haven’t put a face with the name. It doesn’t really work, Matt. I am still pissed. I gave up my college teaching job to work long and hard as a volunteer for 9 months, only to be shoved aside as “not important enough” for ONE photo. And I have been lied to, both in the same night. I have already voted for Kerry/Edwards, but the “driving to the polls” duties I signed up for, months ago, seem like adding insult to injury, right about now.

Naively, I think that Lisa might be someone who can still assist me in getting  a picture of Mrs. Edwards. Or, maybe Lisa has one on HER digital  camera that she can send me?  Possibly she can help me get that elusive Edwards autograph, an autograph of the front-page picture of the daughter holding the “Hot Chicks Dig Edwards” button. I already lost two copies of these papers at the LAST Edwards appearance (North High School) when I gave it to a campaign worker

. When I find Lisa, I realize that SHE is the woman I gave the two Dispatch front pages to at Davenport North High School, who was “going to try to get it to the candidate”.  Obviously, that didn’t happen; so much for THAT plan!

I have also brought my book Both Sides Now, as a gift, for Elizabeth Edwards. I leave it with Lisa.  I might as well. It is obvious that I am never going to get within 100 yards of the woman. She is probably already speeding down the highway. This entire “event” has been so poorly-organized, planned in a poor location, and, as far as I am concerned, conducted very unfairly. I see a Happy Joe’s. I think, “Ice cream. That’s what I need. Ice cream.”
People like Linda Thieman (who has been working hard, 24/7, for 9 months, without a day off, 90 hou

rs a week, free and gratis, to put this blog together and keep it updated) and me, for that matter….who gave up her fall semester of college teaching to pursue the campaign with a vengeance (both of us on our own dime)…matter as much as Channel 4, 6, 8 or the “regular” newspaper(s). Have these people not read the articles (New York Times, most recently) that trumpet that “blogs” are the newspapers of the future? Are we not getting like 200,000 “hits” a month. Are we not telling it like it is, when mainstream media often has not? Is Iowa not an important “swing” state? I think we all know the answers to these questions.

But, Linda, tonight, www.blogforiowa.com is treated as a second-class citizen. As am I. And I am  upset about it.

Tonight, rather than being “thanked” or “rallied,” I leave almost in tears, feeling very, very disappointed in the entire evening. I am just glad that I didn’t make my daughter leave her homework to seek the long-sought-after elusive autograph of any member of the Edwards family on the front-page photo. Maybe I can get the cute kids, Jack or Mary Claire, (I think her name is)…the smallest Edwards children….to scribble something on this paper. You think? [Not likely, either, I’m thinking].

My entire evening is ruined. All the good vibe(s) of the previous ten rallies or so are crashing and burning..  I am NOT a happy camper. I probably feel about like Ralph Nader did when his poster fell down as he was speaking, in Ames. Disappointed. Dejected. Sad. Unfairly put upon.  It is good that, quoting the refrain in “Apocalypse Now,” “this is the end.”

It sure is.

It’s been quite a while since I’ve been here, writing about anything going on in my world. That is because I was in Chicago covering the Chicago Film Festival for nearly all of October, at Bishop Hill with other authors, and am now getting ready to launch promotional things for my newest nonfiction book, “It Came From the ’70s: From The Godfather to Apocalypse Now.”

But, first, a look at the signing on October 30th, the day before Halloween, for the final “Ghostly Tales of Route 66″ book in the trilogy of “Ghostly Tales of Route 66.”

Find me next on December 4th at Barnes & Noble at Northpark with my nonfcition movie book and stay tuned for news of some other local signings, with the possibility of winning movie passes if you purchase a book.

The young duckling doing the signing is granddaughter Ava, whose twin sister, Elise was off on an “enjoy and destroy” mission of Barnes & Noble at Northpark Mall in Davenport on October 30th.

In reading today’s Chicago “Tribune,” a turn to pages 6 and 7 revealed a two-page story about the Triumph hog plant in East Moline, the town in which I reside most of the time and the school system which my children attended.

The Triumph hog plant has been hanging fire for 5 years or so. Current Mayor John Thodos said, “This project is already four or five years old, so if anyone has patience, I do.” Thodos came in as Mayor, displacing Jose “Joe” Moreno in a race that saw many discrepancies at a ward level and, I have no doubt, would have shown even more discrepancies had the recount been done city-wide. As the 1st Ward candidate who paid for a recount and has written about the really astonishing irregularities that occurred in just one small ward (i.e., voters who did not exist…but whose addresses were the residences of employees of then-Democratic County Chairman John Gianulis; 3 people in a booth at once; dying people signing absentee ballots that they knew nothing about; actual miscounting of the absentee ballots, proven during a paid-for recount), it has been with some interest that I have watched the progress (or lack thereof) in the city of East Moline since that election.

Most, if not all, of the plans that Mayor Moreno had laid out for the city, which included a downtown Farmers’ Market area among others and a “Revitalize East Moline” committee of leaders in the area, but did not include a giant hog plant that would slaughter 16,000 hogs a day, were buried when Mayor Thodos’ ascended to the throne.   Mayor Thodos recently tried to run (unsuccessfully) for a different county-wide office, so it is clear that he viewed the Mayor’s office only as a stepping-stone in his political career.

Under Mayor Thodos, East Moline has been left “out of the loop,” the Loop being the all-Quad City bus loop. The downtown has continued to deteriorate and businesses have continued to flee. Representative Phil Hare (D, IL) says that “There is 25% unemployment in the building trades right now, and this (Triumph plant) would put at least 600 people to work on construction.  We shouldn’t summarily thumb our nose at these jobs because of something that potentially might happen.  We can act out of fear again or we can act out of trying to improve our economy.” Those of us reading about the impending hog plant might also add, “or we can act intelligently, but in the best long-term interests of the community.”

This last sentiment regarding remediating any odor or groundwater problems the plant creates seems valid and admirable, but there are many who are less enthused…like those who live in East Moline near the plant or those who know the ins-and-outs of giant hog confinement plants, which are growing in number and size. It’s a bit like the BP Gulf Disaster. Wouldn’t an ounce of prevention have been worth a pound of the not-that-successful cure we’ve seen for the past many months?

 In 1980, U.S. hog and farm operations, according to the United States Department of Agriculture, numbered 666,550. As of 2009, there were only 71,450 as small family farmers were gobbled up by large hog confinement operations.  There were 30,000 Illinois hog and pig farming operations in 1980, but the numbers declined with each passing decade, to approximately half that number in 1990 (15,300) to 5,100 in 2000 to only 2,900 in 2007. A drop from 30,000 operations to less than 3,000 in under 30 years is not only astounding, it is over a 90% drop in the old-fashioned family farm(s) of my youth.

Representative Phil Hare, aware of the opposition of some in the community who do not want the hog plant in their back yard, did say, “I would not support the facility for a minute if I thought we were going to have environmental problems.  Triumph is not getting a pass here.  Should any environmental degradation occur, immediate remediation would be necessary.” This sounds admirable, but the fact is that, if a gigantic hog processing plant is placed close to East Moline, factory hog  farms of the same scale cannot be far behind. This is proven by the statistics of our own U.S. Department of Agriculture, just cited. The number of hogs or pigs, per farm, in thousands, has been consistently rising, moving up from fewer than 500 hogs per facility to numbers of 2,000 or more in the years since 1992.

There are knowledgeable opponents, like Jerry Neff, chairman of the local Sierra Club, who say, “It’s a huge plant being built on a wetland and a flood plain that could end up flooding nearby homes.” Max Muller of the Environment Illinois non-profit advocacy group says, “The facility will increase demand for food animals that will probably be met by factory farms in Illinois.  We already have all sorts of environmental problems from factory farms, including manure spills into waterways and odor issues.  Until we clean up regulation of factory farm pollution, we don’t want to be furthering demand for the products from them.”

Triumph is a Missouri-based processor which pays approximately $12.10 an hour, which amounts to approximately $25,100 a year in annual salary, according to spokesman Pat Lilly, who says that construction on the hotly-debated plant could start this spring.

81% of all U.S. hogs are raised in facilities that house 2000+ animals. The toll to small operators and the small family farm has been catastrophic.  To further demonstrate that the plant and the animals (and the problems?) are coming, Triumph officials, who did not agree to be interviewed for the  “Tribune” story, confirmed that they already have contracts with suppliers for hogs to be raised in confinement facilities and raised specifically to be slaughtered at the controversial East Moline plant.

This particular Triumph plant would slaughter 16,000 hogs a day, but taxpayers in the area were asked for millions in local tax breaks. The tax breaks required unanimous approval by 5 local city councils and there was one hold-out back in 2005. Just months later, now-disgraced ex-Governor Rod Blagojevich resuscitated the project with an economic package worth $16 million (while defaulting on a promise to the Silvis Schools to provide $11.4 million for a new school.)

By 2007, Triumph had purchased 116 acres of land in East Moline on which to build. East Moline applied for a $4.8 million economic development grant from the U.S. Department of Commerce, for water and sewer construction on the site. The company is still eligible for the state’s $16 million package, according to the Illinois Department of Commerce and Economic Opportunity, but the department would neither confirm nor deny whether it was discussing this funding with the company, and Triumph Foods was not talking.

Foes of the Triumph meat processing plant’s location in East Moline of the Illinois Quad Cities include Art Norris, who is a former hog farmer. He described the treatment of animals raised in such facilities as “inhumane” and said the staggering amount of feces created by hogs and the number of plants already discharging into the Rock River are signs that the plant will do the damage that Representative Hare says the city of East Moline would then have to take steps to remediate. No “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure” thinking here; just “damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.” Norris continues, “Triumph has already said that a lot of this meat will be going to Japan, so they get the meat and we get the waste the plant leaves behind.” It should be noted that Norris has been dubbed the Quad Cities’ Waterkeeper by a national advocacy group aimed at protecting waterways from pollution.

The fact is that large plants like the one proposed for East Moline by Triumph attract undocumented workers who are more vulnerable to unfair labor practices. These undocumented workers strain social services, including medical and educational facilities. The poorest city in the state of Iowa (Columbus Junction) is one where a huge meat processing plant is located, quite near Iowa City, and the University has found it necessary to take a mobile bus approach to providing any kind of medical services to the poor workers who staff the plant and have no medical benefits for themselves or their children. I attended a meeting about diagnosing ADD and ADHD in such children of workers, as well as providing pap smears and other routine health care to the impoverished workers, who often do not speak English as their native language.

Even more stunning than the indifference to those in the community who have pointed to hog confinement plants, with their large lagoons of manure, as unattractive and dangerous to the ground water of the area is the feeling that, as Bill Wundram phrases it, “Is anybody there? Does anybody care?” Yes, somebody is here and cares, but there seems to be little interest in listening to those who are not quite as convinced that “a job is a job is a job” is the right philosophy. With 25% unemployment in the building trades, 600 people needed to build such a behemoth of a plant, and jobs for workers available thereafter (albeit jobs without benefits that attract only hourly workers and yield a very low annual salary), is the benefit to the community worth the cost? Do those who live near the plant want the odor and constant traffic of incoming animals on trucks? What do you think?

For opponents of the plant, there are only 2 bright spots: 1) Triumph has not yet applied for the permits it needs from the Illinois EPA (Environmental Protection Agency) and that could take months if not years to process, and (2) On the horizon is a new concept, designed to save the family farmer. This new concept involves a traveling mobile slaughter unit (cost: $250,000 or more for start-up of each), which is being championed by Kim Snyder of Kankakee.  She says, “If we can get this going, I see it growing very, very quickly.” She markets her own meat via www.faithsfarm.com and supplies the Park Grill at Millennium Park in Chicago with its meat.

Adds Snyder, who says the mobile slaughterhouses are safer and travel with an inspector, there are only about 20 mobile slaughter units for poultry and half a dozen for cattle around the country now. But, says Arion Thiboumery of Ames (ISU), “There’s a lot of enthusiasm for this.  In large plants, the animals go by real fast.  This is much smaller; so it’s slower and many people say it’s safer.” Steve Skelton of Kentucky State University says, “It’s made a big difference for farmers. They’re making money again.”  Snyder, who is pioneering the idea of the mobile slaughterhouse says, “How cool would it be for a chef or just for anyone to walk out here and choose an animal, then have it slaughtered and pretty much ready to go?”

For those of us who find the concept of slaughtering animals something we only want to know about in the abstract, it’s not that cool, but the idea of bringing consumers closer to control of the food they are consuming is not only healthy but appealing.  Since the mobile slaughter houses process only 5 cows a day, not only safety for the workers but safety for the food would be pluses for the concept.

I remember visiting my hometown of Independence, Iowa when a large hog confinement plant in the fields nearby made the air so redolent that your eyes stung and you had to stay indoors. The more affluent residents of this cottage town for Waterloo/Cedar Falls and Cedar Rapids were not amused that their expensive summer homes were almost unusable as a result of the hog stench, and the problem was addressed and no longer exists. Here we are, in East Moline (and the Quad Cities, in general) attempting to go down the same road that others have traveled with horrible results.

As someone who was invited to tour the Triumph plant (full disclosure; the invitation was actually extended to my husband, and I would have gone along, had we been available), I can only imagine how vast a difference exists between a large facillity like Triumph’s proposed plant and a small mobile slaughterhouse option.

I am unconvinced that there won’t be unpleasant side-effects for the Quad City community, including odor, strain on social service agencies and schools, an uptick in violent crime, and a generally undesirable reputation that will adhere to the town, just as the presence of the mental health facility did for years. (And I grew up in a town with a mental health institute, one of 4 in the state of Iowa, so I know how “reputation” of  a town hangs on for years.)

I’m also a realist and aware that “money talks and bullshit walks.” Americans, over a lifetime, consume 21,000 animals and, while houses and cars cost fourteen times what they did 50 years ago, the price of chicken hasn’t even doubled, thanks to the efficiency (if not the humanity) of factory poultry farms. We eat 150 times as many chickens a year as we did 80 years ago. (All  poultry facts courtesy of “Life” by Joel Stein in the August 23, 2010 issue of “Time” magazine on pp. 51-52.)

Still, I think some investigation into the intentions of Triumph should be made now, before those EPA permits are applied for and those of us in the Quad Cities, especially East Moline, Illinois, are all awash in sewage sludge.

Fifty-nine year old Jim Ridings has self-published a new book (342 pp.) about a corrupt governor of Illinois, which includes statements like these:

• “He is so unscrupulous that his lack of principle gives him the appearance of audacity.”
• “Insufferable”
• “Small-minded”
• “Unprincipled”
• “Maybe his bad record is a help to him…It is so bad, it is unbelievable.  When the truth is told, people say it cannot be so, and that there must be a vicious reason behind the telling of it.” (Chicago Tribune editorial about this governor.)
• “The great game of politics is played everywhere, but nowhere with greater zest than in the state of Illinois.” (“Time” magazine article about this governor).
• First Governor of Illinois to be arrested while in office.
• “Is the worst governor the state ever had.  We believe he is the worst governor any state ever had.  He has contaminated everything with which he has come in contact in politics.” (Editorial from the Chicago Tribune)

So, who are we talking about here?

The question is valid, because, at this point, the book begins to outline how the governor of Jim Ridings’ book “did wickedly, willfully, unlawfully and feloniously embezzle and fraudulently convert to his own use” more than a million dollars in state money when he was Illinois treasurer in 1904, prior to becoming Governor of Illinois, a post he held from 1921 to 1929.

When arrested, this Governor refused to surrender to authorities for nearly 3 weeks, claiming that the doctrine of separation of powers protected him from arrest. He threatened to use the National Guard to place Springfield under martial law to protect him.

Prosecutors said the accused Governor had deposited millions into a fictitious bank to defraud the state out of interest payments, and that he had operated a money-laundering scheme. The defense maintained that the governor didn’t really know what was being done in his name and was the victim of his mean-spirited political foes. This Governor considered the Chicago Tribune to be chief among his “political foes,” as a current website about the governor and his family says, “The Chicago Tribune championed a cause against the Governor which impressed upon him the importance of hometown newspaper(s).”

I know you have all been reading this and thinking that the scoundrel’s name was Rod Blagojevich.

In reality, Rod Blagojevich was the second Governor of Illinois to be arrested while in office. The first was Lennington Small, a Republican from Kankakee whose offspring went on to found the Small Newspaper Group, and the SNG website says, “He established the integrity of the business through personal example.”

[After the list of charges above, I’m almost afraid to consider what that might have meant.]

Lennington Small, when brought to trial, was acquitted, but a juror and two Chicago mobsters were later indicted on charges that the jury had been bribed. Small, upon his acquittal and subsequent re-election bid (!), commuted the sentences of two other mobsters who had been jailed for refusing to cooperate with the grand jury investigating the circumstances of Lennington Small’s acquittal. It should be noted that Lennington Small lost a civil lawsuit and was forced to repay the state of Illinois $650,000. But he wasn’t impeached and—will wonders never cease—even won that second term in office.

Lennington Small died in 1936. His name was largely forgotten until his great grandson, Stephen Small, then 40, died after being buried alive in a botched kidnapping attempt in 1987.

The Small Newspaper Group began in 1913 with “The Daily Republican” in Kankakee (one of three newspapers in the town) and went on to acquire The Daily Times in Ottawa (1955); the LaPorte Herald-Argus (LaPorte, Indiana, 1964); the Daily Dispatch in Moline (1969); The Leader (Iowa Quad Cities) in 1978, (which has now ceased operations, although the SMG website does not note this); Star Publication weeklies in the south Chicago suburbs (1975-1995); SNG group prints 80,000 to 105,000 copies of “USA Today” in Kankakee (1983 to the present); “Family Weekly” magazine, which later became “USA Weekend”,  was sold to CBS in 1980; Rochester “Post-Bulletin” (1977), the largest afternoon daily in the state of Minnesota; “Times-Press” in Streator, IL (1980; current Daily Dispatch publisher Roger Ruthhart came to Moline from Streator); Palisadian Post in California (1981); The Rock Island Argus from the Potter family, “one of the state’s oldest continuously published newspapers” in Rock Island, IL (1995), which also ceased operations in the recent past; and, in 1969, brothers Len and Burrell divided the family’s holdings in print and broadcast properties, with Len taking the newspapers and Burrell inheriting such properties as WKAN,  in existence since 1947.

The SNG (Small Newspaper Group) website says of Governor Lennington Small, “The Governor is best-known for the 7,000 miles of hard roads he built in Illinois and for his support of the State Fair.”

Perhaps author Jim Ridings, who has written Len Small- Governors and Gangsters, a 342-page book about the “worst governor ever” would suggest other things for which Governor Small might be remembered, such as setting the bar so low that it took 90 years for someone (Rod Blagojevich) to lower it further.

SOURCES:  SNG (Small Newspaper Group) official website; “The Worst Illinois Governor?” by Eric Zorn, Chicago Tribune, Wed., July 21, p. 21; “Len Small: Governors and Gangsters,” self-published by Jim Ridings (342 pp., 2009).

Moline, Illinois, June 25, 2010:  The Quad Cities of Iowa/Illinois held its first Tributefest in the streets outside the iwireless Center on the John Deere Commons area. Four bands that emulate famous bands performed, representing the Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, AC/DC, and Bon Jovi, respectively calling themselves “Satisfaction,” “Toys in the Attic,” “Hells’ Bells” and “Bed of Roses.” The bands kicked off at 5:15 p.m. with the Rolling Stones impersonators from Las Vegas playing to a sparse crowd and the groups played until midnight.

As a first-time event, the crowd seemed to sufficient to call the experiment, sponsored by Budweiser, Hiland Toyota and Cumulus Broadcasting a success. Websites for the various groups proclaim them to be the “best tribute bands” for the artists represented, and, having stayed to see each of the four, I can attest that the Mick Jagger impersonator had Mick down (I’ve seen the real Rolling Stones 12 times). They were proclaimed by Las Vegas experts to be the “best” tribute band at imitating the Rolling Stones and perform under the name “Satisfaction.” I’ve seen another tribute band in Chicago with a much-older version of Mick at the microphone. This imitator, who took the stage wearing a white jacket, (which he soon took off in the heat), would represent Jagger of about 15 years ago. The Keith Richards look-alike had the hair down, but also Keith of 15 years ago, as the hair now is more white than black. It also appeared that the Keith Richards clone was playing bass guitar, not lead guitar, which is not the way it works onstage for the real deal.

The set list for the Stones impersonators also covered most of the songs any Stones fan would want to hear, for example: “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” “Let’s Spend the Night Together,” “Under My Thumb,” “Hey, You, Get Offa’ My Cloud,” “Time Is On My Side,” “Paint It Black,” “Tumblin’ Down,” “Shattered,” “Honky Tonk Woman,” “Start Me Up,” and “Brown Sugar.” Unfortunately, the promoters put the Stones on first, and the crowd was sparse at 5:15 p.m. I can say without equivocation that they were my favorite group, but that the others present seemed to prefer the “AC/DC” group from Winnipeg, Canada, who did throw themselves into the show with abandon. At one point, the lead guitar was carried into the crowd on the shoulders of another member of the band. I think that was about the point in time when some audience members, an older crowd generally, started dropping like flies and an ambulance was called.

The Aerosmith band (pictured with article), who perform under the name “Toys in the Attic,” taken from one of the real band’s first albums, had a relatively good Steven Tyler impersonator (not the lips, but the mannerisms), but the Steve Perry guitarist, while very proficient, merely had hair (and lots of it.)

By the time “Bon Jovi” (Bed of Roses) took the stage, with the faux Steven Tyler performing some songs with them, we were ready to pack it in. The Jon Bon Jovi impersonator bears very little resemblance to the real deal (way too short). Plus, the first 4 songs the group sang were not immediately recognizable Bon Jovi hits (and I’m a fan, with July 31 tickets to the REAL Bon Jovi’s Chicago Soldier Field concert). This may have been due to fake Steven Tyler’s presence onstage, while “Jon” played keyboards in the background. The ½ hour wait that fans had endured also cooled off the white-hot enthusiasm that “AC/DC” (aka “Hell’s Bells”) had generated. (Too bad I only knew “All Night Long” and “Highway to Hell” from that heavy metal group.)

I felt sorry for the Stones, who got the shafted in being made to go first, which the announcer kept attributing to the bands having been staged in the order they first began. Ideally, Bon Jovi’s “Bed of Roses,” (much softer pop rock), would have kicked off the night, to be followed by the heavier (and louder) rockers. I think my ears were bleeding after “AC/DC.” We were about 2 feet from the speakers and the volume ramped up a great deal between the Aerosmith guys from Nashville (a 14-hour drive, they said) and the AC/DC performers from Winnipeg.

One complaint, from me was the message I got (via e-mail) the day before the event that made it sound as though I would “save” $4 by buying my tickets online, which I then did. The tickets “at the door” were $12, it said, whereas buying them online in advance they were $10. I bit, and I ended up paying $34 because of a $5.50 “handling fee” for EACH ticket, plus taxes that added to the final total, so my $10 ticket became a $15 ticket and, instead of saving $4, it cost me $10 MORE than if I had just showed up at the venue.

I told the “will call” people in charge of handing out the tickets that I felt this constituted false advertising of a sort; the unconcerned man behind the table said, “Well, you could have canceled out on the computer near the end.” True enough, but why send me the promotional e-mail at all, when it ends up costing you $10 MORE if you take advantage of what was billed as a “cost-saving” measure (which I unwisely did)? All I got for my comment was a long lecture about Ticketmaster. The only way this would have been a “good” deal was if I were traveling from a long away (I wasn’t) and wanted to make absolutely sure I got in. As it was, I learned a lesson about not paying attention to the marketing messages from iwireless Center in Moline.

Otherwise, a fun way to spend an absolutely gorgeous evening, with $3 bratwurst and hot dogs and $5 for a hamburger basket with chips, which was certainly reasonable. You did need to take your own lawn chairs (we did) and the sound from the huge speakers carried for at least 5 blocks.

Friday, June 11^th in the Quad City Times newspaper, Kurt Erickson of the “Times” Bureau out of Springfield reported that the computer education program for prison inmates was being cut because ex-convicts who graduated in the field couldn’t get jobs. The article went on to say that the program operated at 11 state prisons in Illinois with the assistance of community college instructors. A five-year review of how the inmates fared in getting jobs after graduating from the program found that they were not getting hired, so the program was axed.

Another such joint program was one in business management, which had 900 inmates participate in the most recent round of classes. These classes seem to have been offered on-site, as 19 instructors were being displaced, but those instructors were told they could bid for other prison education jobs.

The fact is that ex-convicts are actively recruited for entrance into Eastern Iowa Community College in the Iowa Quad Cities, for example. At least one such community college cited in this article—Southeastern Illinois—has announced that it is halting its prison education programs because the state of Illinois is so late in reimbursing the institution for the work it has previously provided.

The article went on to say, “Community colleges provide many different classes for inmates, ranging from automotive repair to horticulture.” I can attest to this, having taught primarily students who were enrolled in automotive repair, HVAC programs, culinary arts programs or sign language.

The problem I perceived was that instructors were never provided any information about the enrolled ex-convict’s presence in their class. I realize that privacy issues and privacy policies (that often out-rule common sense) have come to dominate on the community college front, but it seems that the instructor, at least, should have the right to know that a student enrolled in his or her class has just been released from prison. This needn’t be knowledge the entire class possesses, but the instructor deserves to know.

This past history of violence, in some cases, can become a very real problem for the instructor and/or for the rest of the class, as it did for me when I had just such an ex-convict who enrolled (late) in one of my classes. I only found out that he was an ex-convict because he told me, in great detail, about the robbery he had committed. Among other problems this individual faced, he was an alcoholic with a device affixed to his vehicle to monitor his driving because of a DUI citation.

My class taught students how to put together a resume and how to interview for a job, skills that would certainly be beneficial for anyone and no less useful for ex-convicts. After my class had met four times, this particular student came straggling into the office, and I was pointed out as the instructor.

I sat down and attempted to fill him in on all missed work (we only met about 28 times, so 4 absences was quite a lot of missed time for a “late” enrollment). He talked non-stop about robbing his father’s place of employment after-hours, justifying the theft by saying he only wanted the money to go visit his mother in Florida, who had abandoned him when he was eight.

Those sad stories aside, he shared the news of his young daughter, (whom, I later learned, he used to blow into his DUI device so that he could drive drunk to class.) It seems it was her birthday that day. I tried very hard to be encouraging and sympathetic to both this student and others whom I learned, only by accident, were ex-convicts and enrolled in my classes.

The DUI student only came to class once. We were working on resumes in a room that I had reserved which was to have a computer for each student, but there had been some sort of screw-up and we were assigned to a room where the computers were specially designed for a court-reporting class and did not work for “regular” computer work. This student sat in the back of the room being loud and unruly and his blue language caused 3 other class members to come to me and complain after class (I was up front at the blackboard, trying to give instructions while he was drowning out the instruction and using “f” bombs every other word.)

After that, we never again saw the student in the class. I set about arranging the interviews I always arranged with my former Chamber of Commerce contacts, (some of whom at the local auto plazas actually gave jobs to the students they interviewed.) The interview was approximately ½ of the student’s grade, but the missing ex-convict had never returned to class to find out when he was assigned to be interviewed (interviews were also filmed for later critique.)

When it came time to “write a memo,” the class and I wrote a very bland memo that simply said “To:  John Doe. From: (my name). Re: Your Interview.” It then filled in the time, day and date of the arranged interview, noting that the interview was 50% of the student’s grade.

The student-in-question, the ex-convict who had been recruited by an African American administrator known as the administration’s “hatchet woman,”a very unpleasant lady with a bald spot the size of a dinner plate and the personality of a piranha…rather than viewing the informative memo(s) as doing Mr. DUI a favor in trying to salvage his grade, said that he had lodged a complaint that he had been sent the memo(s). The hatchet woman, (who bore a grudge against me for the alleged sins of my successor at the Sylvan Learning Center I had sold 2 years previously, whom she felt did not do a good enough job with her niece for a sum of money that she paid) was complained to.

For my part, the student in question showed up again only on the day of the final as it was ending (having missed the interview and all other classes and having only been seen once, in person), entered my classroom (no security at all in the entire building, but a sign posted by the copy machine that read “If you are assaulted, call the Sheriff,” with a phone number) and threatened to kill me. He reeked of booze, and his fellow classmates told me that, thanks to his young daughter, he would have her breathe into his DUI device so that he could drive to campus each morning.

The bell was ringing just as the ex-convict’s threat came, and all of us, me included, exited to the busy hallways ASAP, although it was well-known that no security personnel existed to assist any of us, student or teacher.

For my part, I  tried to remain calm and I suggested to the ex-convict that we both go to the Dean’s office together to discuss his concerns. I already had a meeting scheduled about an hour after this to discuss whether it was “ethical” to be required to turn over my Final Exam, in advance, to the various assigned “tutors” for these students, many of whom could not read or could not read at the level necessary for college instruction.

It had come to my attention that the entire exam was being spoon-fed to some of the students by some of the tutors (not all, but some), and the regular students in my class—-kids fresh out of high school, not fresh out of prison—were justifiably upset that they didn’t get this unfair “break.”

As luck would have it, the drunk ex-convict’s advisor was in the hallway, saw him, and escorted him from the building, thereby sparing me a knifing, beating or worse. I spent the rest of the semester trying to find out if that student was still on campus and was coming back, had been expelled, what? No one would tell me (the instructor) what disciplinary action (if any) had been taken against the ex-convict in the auto body repair program. I was told to just drop it.

Despite some serious PTSD from the death threat that day, I did keep my appointment one hour later, where the large African-American administrator poked her finger into my chest and back-marched me around an office in full view of several other college employees (the tutors), who apparently felt that a death threat to an instructor from a student who had never attended class was justified, while a memo that he needed to be present for a scheduled interview that was 50% of his grade was not.

I am sympathetic to the many government-sponsored programs to assist ex-convicts who are leaving prison and need further training to find jobs, and so is the John Howard Association, a prison watchdog group that has raised red flags about cuts to prison education programs. However, I am more sympathetic to the “regular, normal” students and teachers in that community college who are never ever given even so much as a private “heads up” to the danger(s) that may lurk within their classroom.

Ask yourself how you’d feel if you were either (a) one of the regular, normal 18-year-old high school graduates sitting next to such ex-cons, not being given the “tutor” treatment that involved advance knowledge of all test questions on a test and/or the threat the seatmate next to you could potentially pose (especially if drunk at the time) (b) the instructor, fending off death threats from a drunk ex-convict who wanders into your classroom for only the second time all year.

And, last but not least, when do “privacy laws” allow for some protection for that instructor and those students, and what gives an out-of-control administrator the right to physically assault (poking with one’s finger is assault) a hard-working professor with the highest satisfaction marks of any on the faculty, simply because her niece didn’t do well in a reading improvement program that that individual had set up 20 years previously but had not been affiliated with for over 4 years?

Some further investigation of the effects of these government-sponsored classes should be made. Are these students really “college competent?” Is their reading level up to the standards that college work…even junior college work…requires?

Following the near-assault by a student and the actual assault, verbal and physical, by an administrator, I went to the office to take the sign that said, “If you are assault, call the Sheriff” as proof of the lax security, and….surprise!…it had been taken down. (There were still no security officers employed for the rest of that year, but we had the number that might have helped us get help taken from us.) I’ve been told that now this college employs security guards, but I don’t know if that is true. I do know that the Illinois institution that it most resembles in this area has always had a security force, and I was very surprised to learn that the Iowa one did not think that the expense was justified. In my own case, since I could never get a straight answer as to what had been done with the ex-convict student, I had volunteer male members of my class (who asked me, unbidden) escort me to and from my automobile for the rest of the semester. This begged the question of my brand-new car sitting in the parking lot all day, potential prey to a guy with major-league problems and a possible unjustified grudge.

This is why I am not that crushed to hear that the computer and business management classes paid for by government dollars for ex-convicts may be diminishing. Our tax dollars at work, Folks. The inmates now run the asylum a lot of places.

The first Quad City Book Fair, to be held May 8^th from 10 a.m. until 4:30 p.m. inside the River Music Experience at 2^nd and Main Street in Davenport, Iowa, will offer something for everyone. Local author Sean Leary will M.C. the presentations from the stage  of Mojo’s Café.

First up at 10 a.m. will be Chicago author Lawrence Santoro. Larry is a multiple Bram Stoker nominee and frequently called upon to record other authors’ works. He will read from his new novel Just North of Nowhere immediately after Mary Ellen Chamberlin’s opening remarks to the 40 Midwestern authors assembled.

Following Larry’s presentation will be Cindy Puck, who will talk about “Teens and Money” at approximately 10:30 a.m.

Eight-year-old Anna Shammus of Riverdale Heights, who has written 8 books, will follow Cindy,  reading from her works and answering questions until 11:15.

There will be a short break for AV set-up, from approximately 11:20 to 11:30 a.m.

At 11:35 a.m. local author Connie (Corcoran) Wilson, recent winner of the David R. Collins’ Writing Award at the Midwest Writing Center’s March 20^th banquet, will present professionally made trailers of her most recent books, including the three-book trilogy set along Route 66 (Ghostly Tales of Route 66, Vols I through III, www.ghostlytalesofroute66.com) , the short story collection Hellfire & Damnation and her first novel Out of Time (www.outoftimethenovel.com).

At noon,  the 40 participants at this first Quad City Book Fair event, some from as far away as Oklahoma, will be welcomed by local politicians, including  Mayor Bill Gluba of Davenport and State Representative Jim Lykum.

Karen Craft will follow the dignitaries with her presentation on “Animal Communication” from 12:15 to approximately 12:30 p.m.

At 12:30, the three student winners of the Midwest Writing Center’s essay contest will read their winning 500-word essays on the topic, “My Favorite Book and Why.”

A 40-minute lunch break will follow Ms. Craft’s presentation, from ten minutes of one until 1:30 p.m. (Box lunches will be available inside the RME).

At 1:30 p.m., Muscatine native and author of the graphic novel Road to Perdition Max Allan Collins will speak about writing collaborations. Mr. Collins and his wife have collaborated on several books, and Mr. Collins also was involved in the Dick Tracy comic strip narrative. Collins has been a frequent presenter at the Midwest Writing Center’s summer workshop and at other conferences throughout the nation.

Another well-known author who will be present throughout the day, signing her books at the Barnes & Noble table, is children’s book author, Jill Esbaum, author of Ste-e-e-e-eamboat A-comin’! and Stink Soup.

Cartoonist Steve Lackey will give a 15-minute presentation on cartooning from 2:15 to 2:30 p.m., after which live music begins onstage at Mojo’s Cafe within the River Music Experience and continues until 4:30 p.m,  the end of the book fair day.

KUUL radio will be outside the River Music Experience, broadcasting live for three hours in the morning and awarding prizes.  Within the RME throughout the day there will be interactive activities for children and adults, alike, with prizes awarded every 15 minutes.

Stop by and meet the 40 authors present for the Quad City Book Fair, being held at the same time as the Beaux Arts Fair in downtown Davenport. When the shopping for jewelry and pottery and other crafts takes its toll, come to the River Music Experience at 2^nd and Main, pull up a chair, meet the 40 Midwestern authors present and enjoy.

It’s raining in Tennessee and the severe weather and storms hadn’t let up as of 5 p.m. CDT. Local papers in Nashville said it was the worst flooding since 1974.

According to the Channel 5 news in Nashville (my5@newschannel5.com0 and the newspaper the Tennessean, there is a tornado watch for most of southwest Tennessee until 6 p.m. Six inches of rain fell Saturday night, and another 4 inches is expected by late Saturday. At 4:45 p.m., rain was still falling.

All high school proms were being canceled. There were 88 reports of road accidents and 30 people reported being stranded in their homes or cars. I40 in southwest Tennessee was shut down and I40 was shut down at the 59-mile marker on Saturday morning.

In the photo to the left, the black car belonged to a friend of my daughter’s and was parked in the Belmont University parking lot in Nashville. It was totaled.

In Memphis, the Interstate was closed. Franklin, where many rich and powerful stars reside (Nicole Kidman, Keith Urban, et. al.) was flooded. The Nashville Sounds baseball game was canceled.

This photo was taken by a friend from his window.

Tornado warnings had been issued for southeast Davidson County, eastern Williamson county, northern Rutherford, and western Wilson County. The Tennessee Department of Transportation canceled all roadwork on I440.

Another friend sent the picture below of her Nashville front yard under water. (Good thing the daughter lives on the third floor; many of her friends have 3 inches of water in their basements!)

Message: My front yard! Totally freaked out.