Ode to Wilkes-Barre

The city of Wilkes Barre, in northeastern PA, has an interesting motto, “pattern after us”. Now, I’m not sure when they adopted the motto, but I’m guessing it was sometime in the 18th century when the city was a hub of industry centering around the booming anthracite coal business, happy days indeed. Unless, of course, you were one of the families involved in the infamous Twin Shaft Disaster (1896) or the Knox Mine Disaster (1959).

In the Twin Shaft case, 58 men and boys died when signs of potential trouble were not addressed with the safety of the miners as a top priority. Also, maps of potential escape routes were not available, as they should have been, hindering a potential rescue. None of the bodies were recovered.

In the Knox Mine Disaster, miners were ordered to dig (illegally), under the mighty Susquehanna River that flows through the heart of the city. It seems they came too close (about 6ft) from its bed and the water caved in the tunnel. An estimated 10 billion gallons of water eventually filled the mines, 12 miners were killed and 69 escaped. Several people were indicted included the President of the District 1 Miner’s Union who also happened to be a secret owner.

Ok, so maybe the “pattern after us” motto came later; say in the 1960’s. It seems in the 1960 presidential election, Wilkes Barre was often cited for its unusually high poverty levels. The 1970’s brought hurricane Agnes and the ’72 flood that caused so much damage that some folks feel the city has yet to recover. (I see a pattern of some serious bad karma developing here).

The motto definitely couldn’t have come from this century where the city has had national recognition for its’ political corruption, most notably the “Kids for Cash” scandal. In this case, senior judge Conahan and president judge Ciavarella, of the Luzerne County Court of Common Pleas, were accused of receiving kickbacks for sentencing kids, in many cases to much harsher sentences, and assigning them to facilities they had invested in. Their stool pigeon was another judge being investigated by the FBI for widespread county corruption that brought charges against 30 people.

Take a deeper look into the Kids for Cash scandal if you think Jerry Sandusky is the only monster from the Keystone State. The two judges plead guilty, and then accept a plea bargain, then have the plea bargain removed by a Federal judge dissatisfied with their post-plea behavior. (I am not making this up). Then plead guilty again for racketeering and tax evasion, among other things. The two are behind bars, but not for permanently damaging the lives of children. (One noted case was a young girl who was a repeat offender in her neighborhood. Her crime was continuing to write in colored chalk on the sidewalk in front of her elderly neighbors home. She ended up sentenced to one of the facilities that would keep the cash flowing, where she was sexually abused).
I had an experience with the local courts while living in Wilkes Barre. I took my Ford Explorer to a fast oil change place on Pierce Street for state inspection. I was told I needed tires, and lucky for me they were having a special. I purchased four new Bridgestone tires and within weeks one was completely bald. I drove in, showed the owner and he tried to sell me new tires. I’m no car guy, but something didn’t seem right.

I went home and called Bridgestone and they told me those tires should not have been recommended for my vehicle. I brought that information to the owner who said; “I’m not even sure that you bought those tires here”. So, off to the local magistrate I went, conveniently located a few blocks from his shop. Here’s how it went.

I provided a list of the tires Bridgestone suggests for my vehicle, in which the tires sold to me, do not appear. George says, “I’m not sure he bought those from me”.
I produce a quote sheet from his shop and bank statement documenting the sale. I also tell the judge of bringing the defected tire in to show George and he denies ever seeing me.
George says, “If he would have brought them in, I could have done something”.
I say, “ Well good, because I have the defective tires outside in my truck which is now happily riding on the appropriate tires purchased from a tire store.”
The learned judge asks if we could please try to work this out and George agrees to take a look.
“If you can’t, then Ill make a decision”, the judge declares.

As we walk outside together, George makes a beeline for his Mercedes.
“George, my truck is over here”, I say.
George walks away.
“The tires are in the back of my truck, right here”, and again, he ignores me.

I show up on our next date and tell the judge I want him to make a decision telling him how George refused to even acknowledge me, much less take a look at my tires. George claims I am a chronic malcontent, never to be satisfied. The judge says he shall decide and inform us promptly. Several weeks go by, then a month. I call the court.

The clerk asks the judge about the pending judgment and returns with this response, “ the judge thought you two were going to resolve this on your own”.
“No ma'am, please remind his honor that I couldn’t even get this snake to acknowledge my existence and that he lied under oath, that’s why on the second appearance we left the decision to be made by his most honorable”.

“Hold, please”.

“The judge said he’ll make a decision and you’ll be contacted by mail”.
Two days later, I found out the judge decided in favor of local, slimy, George.
Pattern after us?

Well maybe it’s meant for one of the local morning drive DJ who also moonlights as a realtor for Century 21. She has the same surname as one of the city’s namesakes, and looks old enough to be a sister to Isaac Barre who died in 1802.
She assured me as I signed a yearlong contract that I would be a priority and “open houses on the weekends are my trademark”. (zero open houses with my place, 1 showing in 10 months.)

After my home was burglarized two times in three months, the second time with the lock box being smashed off the front door to gain access, I called the DJ and left a voicemail. One week later she returned my call and advised taking down the For Sale sign and putting the lock box in the back. She said she’d send someone over to retrieve the sign. It is still there 10 months later. But wait, it gets better.

I call her in March, 5 months into the contract, to see how things are going and discuss possible strategies. March is my busiest month and it quickly becomes April and I haven’t heard back from my DJ/realtor. I call again. Two weeks later I get a return call. In July, I get a text message telling me her cell number is changed. I call that number and leave a message, again, no return call.

Now, I know it must be tiring for an old woman to host a 6am radio show five days a week and sell houses on the side, but with the new medications out there…a phone call can’t be that difficult. So I call her boss (at Century 21), to ask him to please have the DJ call me and that I am completely dissatisfied with the level of service. (He returns my call that night).

I also send a text to the DJ that says, “any chance for a return call from you this year?” To which she replies immediately, “no action on house”. I call her immediately and get her voicemail, then another text, “at Guggenheim, can’t talk now”. I text back, “ Please call ASAP, if you don’t get me, leave a VM, Ill get back to you right away’”. (I resist adding, “ it’s a new concept many businesses are trying)”.

An hour or so later, the DJ calls launching into a myriad of reasons my house has not sold. I tell her I really don’t care to talk about that, I want to talk about how unhappy I am with her lack of communication for 10 months and her not returning calls from me.
“Well, there wasn’t anything to report”, she says.
“So, you mean you never return anyone’s calls when there is no news to report?” I ask.
“Oh, no, I return calls….”
“So, then you just don’t return my calls?”, (a logical assumption by me, based on her response.)
“Jesus Christ, Kevin.” She says with a harsh tone.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?”, I ask, with my blood heading towards boil.
“I finally get you to call me after weeks and months of unreturned calls and I get Jesus Christ, Kevin?”.
I tell her I’m going to file a complaint with the local realtor association and her boss and she says I don’t have to because she just heard my complaint. I ask her to give me the name of the local association where I can file the complaint and she does.
I tell her I will reach out to them tomorrow and she laughs and hangs up.

Pattern after us?

The DJ texts me that she will honor my request to terminate the contract and I ask her again to have the sign removed from my property. She then texts that she is sorry she made me mad and she should have communicated better. I talk to her boss the next day and he tells me she is one of his best, he wishes they could have sold my house and lack of returned phone calls are his most frequent complaint.

Now, there are some fine things associated with the city of Wilkes Barre. In 1926, Babe Ruth hit what was measured to be a 650 ft home run in an exhibition game held at Artillery Park. An Italian immigrant founded Planter’s Peanuts in Wilkes Barre. The owner used to have the Mr. Peanut mascot hand out free samples at the square. Currently, it is the home of House of Bricks, one of the leaders in the production of fine pate’. The Scranton-Wilkes Barre Penguins of the American Hockey League is a shared source of pride. But the beautiful Luzerne County Courthouse that is the centerpiece of many photographs of Wilkes Barre is all theirs. (Although, that is where the aforementioned monsters hanged their robes.)

But, pattern after us?

It might be time to reconsider the city motto. The community leaders behind bars might have the time to come up with one, but that’s in bad taste. (If the Paterno statue had to come down, what’s to become of the beautiful courthouse?) No one knows the heartbeat of the city better than a local business owner that provides “fast” service. But we need a truthful, honest motto. If we are not in a hurry, I know a local DJ who can do a rewrite (they can be creative folks). I’ll call her and leave a message.