Probably no better quote exhibits the lamebrain attitude embraced by too many Northeastern Pennsylvania elected officials than the comment Scranton School Board President Bob Lesh made Tuesday.
Speaking of accepting campaign contributions from people who do business with the school district, Lesh said, "It's very hard to turn down contributions, regardless of where they come from."
Pennies from heaven?
Hundreds from hell?
Give that man advanced placement in the culture of corruption.
Lesh is joined in his asininity by every single member of the Scranton school board, all of whom have accepted campaign money from people who do business with the district – thus violating the very ethics policy they unanimously endorsed this month that prohibits them from doing so.
Lesh is quoted in a story in today's Times-Tribune as saying he accepted campaign money from vested interests because he forgot that part about the campaign contributions that's included in the policy. Back in 2000 when directors adopted the formal ethics code, Lesh voted against the policy. This time he voted for it because he just forgot.
Duh.
"It was put in for one reason," Lesh told a Times-Tribune reporter for a story in today's paper. "To keep little guys like us down."
Rule 11 in the school board's code is simple: "I will never accept or solicit campaign contributions from employees of the Scranton School District or those who regularly do business with the Scranton School District for any campaign committee formed specifically to assist in my election to any political office."
When Lesh ran unsuccessfully for state representative in 2010, he took money from guys who held school district contracts or did school district work.
Like I said, Lesh lost.
Like I also said, "Duh."
Not that taking the money imperils any school board member. No punishment exists in the ethics code for those who violate the ethics code. That's right boys and girls, ain't no public service like Scranton public service.
The only problem that exists for school directors is the stain on their reputation, integrity and honor – assuming those traits exist in the first place. New directors have the most to lose. Yes, they took money before they were elected but still benefitted from those who benefitted from past - and likely future – school district cash.
These rookies should return the money. But if they do, they will show great disloyalty to the campaign system that gets them re-elected. Actually, everybody should return the money and publicly vow to set sterling examples for the children they serve.
But don't expect any "givebacks."
Expect "givemores."
Show me the money should be the new district motto, carved in Latin above the door to the administration building.
"E pluribus payola."
More alarming, is that some "model citizens" who contributed to some of the school directors had also contributed to a couple of notorious former Lackawanna County commissioners. Back then federal prosecutors called those contributions kickbacks and granted immunity to some of these school board benefactors who then testified against the county commissioners turned criminal defendants.
Bob Cordaro is currently doing 11 years in a federal prison.
A.J. Munchak, Cordaro's partner in crime is preparing to begin a seven year sentence.
But our distinguished school board members fail to hear the sirens and alarm bells that should be going off in their heads.
At the end of the press release announcing a federal indictment handed up yesterday against former Northeastern Educational Intermediate Unit Director Fred Rosetti (first cousin to former state Sen. Bob Mellow, who also is under federal investigation), the U.S. Attorney for the Middle District casually mentioned that the FBI is looking for more information about any local school district workers who might be breaking the law.
That includes school directors.
I'd start obeying the ethics code if I were a school board director, no matter what Bob Lesh says.
Presidents' Day usually passes for most Americans as a day off if they're lucky or maybe a visit to a local store for a mattress sale. Mostly, President's Day matters little to most Americans.
For me, the presidency still holds allure.
Granted, I don't have a favorite commander-in-chief. Nobody rises to my level of excellence.
George Washington and Abraham Lincoln offer the best shot although I must admit that I know less than more about their lives than I should. I should pick up biographies of these two but likely won't.
Franklin Delano Roosevelt is probably my favorite although he pulled some horrid stunts that were so egregious that his bad judgment should make all his good judgment moot.
I'm all for the WPA and the CCC and the fight against poverty and malaise during The Depression.
But I lived in a community in Central Coastal California that suffered the sheer ignorance of FDR's Japanese-American internment policies and know more about that than most people.
Then there was Nixon.
That's what I call him.
Nixon.
That's all you need to know.
Nixon's the one.
And I still believe that he stole that helicopter when he lifted off from the White Hose lawn that fateful day in 1974 after bringing us Watergate and all the sordid related aftermath of Vietnam and Kent State and the rest.
JFK?
Marylyn.
Clinton?
Monica.
Bush?
Bush?
One's as bad as the other.
I didn't even care for mother and wife Barbara and gave her a hard time when she visited a Wilkes-Barre high school some years back. By hard time I mean that I refused to fall over myself as she passed by like a British queen and threw her a hard question rather than a nice little soft-boiled inquiry.
Mrs. Bush glared.
And I felt good.
Gerald Ford?
Pardoned Nixon.
Jimmy Carter?
Actually, better than most.
Then there are all those presidents whose names I've forgotten and could not recite even if my life depended on it.
I'm in good company.
Ignorance so much permeates our nation that I wouldn't be surprised if the current batch of high school seniors in Northeastern Pennsylvania would be hard pressed to identify JFK, Marylyn, Clinton, Monica, FDR, Nixon, Watergate, Kent State or Vietnam.
Nixon? That's out near Harveys Lake, right? Right.
On second thought, they might know Clinton but only because of Monica.
Then there's Barack. Everybody knows Barack. Right? But not everybody believes he has a U.S. birth certificate and if what the Internet says is true he can't be president.
Just what Mexico needs - Luzerne County Judge "El Dopo" Dave Lupas authorizing a Cabo resort vacation for Linda Kastner, 40, an admitted drug felon who still has 18 months to serve in the so-called "intermediate punishment program."
If a south-of-the-border holiday is what constitutes intermediate punishment, I'm afraid to ask about minimum punishment.
A time-share all your own? Dinner with the Mexican drug cartel bandito of your choice? Rehab by the beach? Taxpayer-financed tacos for everybody?
Make it stop, por favor.
Drug agents from the office of the state attorney arrested Kastner in 2010 as part of a quarter million dollar heroin and cocaine ring. She pleaded guilty to conspiracy after being charged with numerous counts of cocaine and heroin related offenses – including possession and possession with intent to distribute.
The woman's lawyer, whom she refused to name when she called "Corbett" on Wednesday, mentioned in her petition that she would be traveling with her sister and her brother-in-law, who is a police officer in New Jersey. I take the reference to mean that she will be traveling with a responsible bodyguard.
Nice.
In Mexico, people with bodyguards always have the edge, even when they die in a cross fire. And nothing builds confidence better than a Jersey cop on the beat in Margaritaville.
"El Dopo" really should know better – if only to protect the integrity of law enforcement. Any judge should understand that no cop should associate with a convicted felon in any social setting. The police officer's chief in Kenilworth understands, telling me in a telephone conversation Wednesday that the officer would violate the department code of conduct if he traveled anywhere off-duty with an admitted drug criminal, sister-in-law or no sister-in-law.
Indeed, a YouTube video of Officer Mariachi in a sombrero will do wonders for his career.
But Kastner wants to go, plans to go and is adamant that she should be allowed to go.
"I'm a taxpayer, too," she railed during an unexpected call to Wednesday's show.
But during another unexpected call to "Corbett" yesterday, she said she wasn't sure because her husband is now in the hospital and that she was aggravating his delicate condition by taking calls at his bedside from friends alerting her to my discussion and commentary about her on the air.
Kastner again railed, even more vigorously than the last time, for my highlighting her high life and good times. I could barely squeeze a word into her tirade. But after finding wiggle room, I asked how she plans to pay for the trip. Kastner said her sister was giving her the tropical adventure as a gift, although with hubbie sick and all she wasn't sure she would be able to go.
I asked if she owed any outstanding fines or costs as a result of her illegal drug behavior. Kastner got edgier, saying she's paying her fines. But she refused to say how much remains or if, as court records seem to show, she only pays $20 a week on a balance of almost $2,000.
I'll call county officials today to try and obtain the total and the payment plan.
No matter what she owes, and she admits to owing, she should not be allowed to spend one dinero in Mexico until she pays back every penny to the taxpayers who funded the investigation into her bad behavior.
When police arrested Kastner, she was quoted in a newspaper article as saying that the 21 or so people busted were addicts, not dealers. Whatever she is, she needs serious treatment and therapy if she ever hopes to get better and one day become a productive member of society rather than a drain on her community, her family, friends and herself.
Kastner told me yesterday that I had "bigger fish to fry" and that the shabby Sterling Hotel in Wilkes-Barre was a better topic of news talk conversation. She ranted so badly that I had to put her on hold. When I did, Kastner hung up.
"El Dopo" should have considered all these serious factors before he granted her junkie wish to party hearty. Instead, another inept and dangerous judge enabled a seriously troubled woman to careen further into the abyss of irresponsibility.
Luzerne County District Attorney Stefani Salavantis said the attorney general's office is handling the case, although a formal letter from her asking that the AG's office petition the state Superior Court asking that Lupas' decision be overturned is warranted.
Nobody from the AG's office returned my call yesterday. Lupas also failed to return a call.
Maybe Kastner will call again today.
If so, I'll do my best to help her understand that she needs real help far more than four days and three nights in Cabo as official "intermediate punishment" courtesy of "El Dopo," her sister and her Jersey bodyguard.
Yes, Ireland is as green as the travelers say. And, yes, something very special about that small island nation keeps luring people from all over the world to the wondrous enchantment of this land of saints and scholars.
Pot-of-gold brilliant sunshine gleamed from the emerald landscape on the banks of the Shannon that day almost 40 years ago when I undertook my first adventure in the birthplace of my ancestors.
I was 21 that summer when I first set foot in that magic land.
I'll be 61 in July when we venture back to bask in the ancient culture, taste the food and drink, learn from the wisdom of the people and savor the sights and sounds of Eire, which in the traditional Gaelic tongue of the people means Ireland.
I've returned to the "auld sod " many times over the years and look forward to each trip with the youthful excitement of that young man who stepped off the plane that day on a beautiful August morning in search of family history and his own coming of age.
A similar personal journey exists for every Irish visitor whether or not you possess a drop of Irish blood pulsing through your veins. The journey awaits you because Ireland is unique and a little piece of Ireland exists in us all.
Two years ago, a group of more than 40 pilgrims representing AAA North Penn travelled together to Ireland. A thousand welcomes greeted us as we stepped off the plane in Dublin, where I had lived for a few months in 1972.
To say that a grand time was had by all would be an understatement.
All my previous visits had been on my own. We'd rent a car, look for lodging each day and settle in to explore. Twice we rented a house near the west coast village of Cornamona in County Galway from which my grandfather emigrated in 1904, landing in Scranton.
But this time we put all our faith in AAA and CIE International, the Irish transportation firm that took care of our every need from beginning to end. They picked us up and dropped us off, taking us from one stunning stop to the next. When we switched hotels, the CIE driver even delivered our luggage to the door outside our room and picked it up in the morning when we checked out and boarded a luxury coach complete with a trained and certified Irish tour guide.
From one place to the next we still had ample time on our own to shop, have a look around and add our own personal touch to the adventure at hand. With no worries, all we had to do was relax and enjoy every aspect of our vacation.
Everyone enthusiastically agreed that the tour constituted a trip of a lifetime in a spellbinding nation. And we vowed to return. I surely hope they do.
This trip will likely include some of my compatriots from the last sojourn across the water. No matter how many times you've been to Ireland, you've never seen enough Ireland.
Ireland never fails.
Ireland always awaits.
This trip beckons for so many reasons, particularly that it touches on Ireland north and south. The 24 counties of the Republic of Ireland in the south is usually the sole destination for tourists. The six counties of Northern Ireland, officially part of the United Kingdom, usually also constitutes a sole destination for visitors.
Most tourists never visit both places on the same trip. As a result, most miss the big picture context of a country long ago divided by war and politics, yet united in the quest for progress and peace.
We'll begin in Dublin, the Irish capital in the south, cross the border to Belfast in the north, on to Derry in the north and then back to Westport in the south – with many varying stops here and there in between.
It will be 30 years since I last visited Belfast and look forward with all my heart to connecting with old friends there. Peace now swathes the city in a newfound identity, a softer place where hope and development cradles the history of yesterday and the dreams of tomorrow.
Craftsmen built the fated ship Titanic in Belfast. Until recently too many people considered that famous shipyard just another rusted hulk from a bad time in a bad place. In April, a priceless new Titanic exhibit will be unveiled at that refurbished shipyard that is expected to draw countless visitors to the site.
We'll be there, as well.
I hope you join me and my fellow travelers on this Irish trip of a lifetime.
May the road rise to meet us. May the wind be always at our backs. May the sun shine warm upon our faces, the rains fall soft upon our fields and, when we meet, may Ireland hold us in the palm of its hand.
Twin babies in a cage, born alive the warden says, before Luzerne County prison officials transported them to the hospital where one died and the other lifted off in a life flight chopper headed to emergency critical care.
Twin babies in a cage.
Born in a county prison cell.
One dead.
One wounded.
Like in a war zone.
But warden Joseph Piazza didn't even file a report. He tried to keep the births secret. Until I asked Friday, interim county manager Tom Pribula said he didn't know about the births two weeks earlier.
Piazza says he and his staff did everything right. When Piazza called my show Friday, he said that no investigation is necessary. The nurse who says he delivered the babies called the show as well. He, too, rejected the need for an investigation and defended himself and other prison officials in the aftermath of this tragedy.
Piazza and the nurse also impugned the integrity of the mother, a 23-year-old whose medical history Piazza and the nurse disclosed on the air as if she possessed no privacy rights.
Twin babies in a cage.
Born in a county prison cell.
One dead.
One wounded.
Like in a war zone.
The doctor was in the building that day, the prison officials said, but deferred to the nurse. The doctor was not around for the birth of the first child but arrived and stood outside the cell for the second, the nurse said.
The births happened fast, the prison officials said.
In that cramped cell not enough room existed for the doctor and the nurse, according to the nurse. So the mother mom pushed and pushed again and out they came, bright, brand new and breathing.
Then one wasn't.
Twin babies in a cage.
Born in a county prison cell.
One dead.
One wounded.
Like in a war zone.
Quick to defend themselves, prison officials claim the babies were born alive. But we don't know for sure because no pathologist performed an autopsy, according to a news report over the weekend. Who officially pronounced the child dead? What was the cause and exact time of death? Says who?
Mom told prison officials she was sick, a nurse examined her and told her she would be all right. Go back to your cell, back to your seven-month pregnancy and back to your dismal isolation. Forty-five minutes later, the mother again pleaded for help.
Were the prison nurses qualified to diagnose her condition let alone deliver her children? Did prison officials do more harm than good? Why didn't somebody call an ambulance when she first reported nausea and vomiting? Did official action or inaction contribute to the death? Or was the mother to blame, as the warden and nurse insinuated?
The mother had tested positive for drugs, the warden and nurse said on "Corbett." But no drug counselor helped her, no doctor examined her and no help arrived that could keep her baby alive.
When Raphael "Ray" Musto left the state Senate after decades of legislative service – including a short stint as a member of Congress – faithful supporters warbled his praises and commended his integrity.
Today all bets are off.
The soon-to-be 83-year-old elder statesman faces trial in federal criminal court on public corruption charges stemming from that long career of supposed public service.
The question is when that trial will begin.
Musto has proclaimed his innocence, welcomed his day in court and said he was looking forward to clearing his name.
And the crowd roared.
Go get 'em, Ray.
After all this was the same guy who refused a bribe from a phony sheik during the ABSCAM sting that rounded up stray congressmen who turned their vow to uphold the public trust into a cash and carry for profit business.
But Ray's lawyer asked the court to postpone the trial that was scheduled to start in November.
The nice judge, A. Richard Caputo, complied.
No November trial for Ray. No day in court. No clearing his good name.
Caputo set the new trial date for a few days ago. But Ray's trial did not start a few days ago.
Ray's lawyer – big-feeling John, also known as Jack, Riley, who won an acquittal for iconic former 10th Congressional District lawmaker Joe McDade when the feds came after him for accepting bribes – asked for another delay.
Poor Ray was so ill that he couldn't even assist in the preparation of his own defense, said John, also known as Jack. Nice judge Caputo again complied. The trial is scheduled to start in June, when I turn 61.
I won't be surprised if I'm collecting Social Security when the trial begins - if it ever begins.
People are legitimately wondering how long nice judge Caputo will keep the political patron saint of Pittston out of the courtroom and as far away from justice as he can get.
If Ray goes to trial and is convicted, his pension likely goes up I smoke. Ray also likely dies in prison. The longer he stays out the better he plays the system. And, while he's at it, healing and feeling stronger every day, he can watch his wife play the slot machines.
That's exactly what Ray told me he was doing when witnesses spotted him at 10:30 last Friday night at the Mohegan Sun casino and expressed shock that he was too sick to help his own lawyer defend him but strong enough to show up smiling like Wayne Newton at a late night gambling parlor.
"I'm not supposed to stop at the casino if my wife wants to stop on the way home?" Ray asked with a tinge of defiance in his voice when I called him at home Wednesday.
Ray said he was "coming along" after his "operation" and was not "confined to bed."
So he simply agreed when his wife said she wanted to stop by the casino.
"She played the machine and I stood by and watched," he said.
"You win?" I asked.
"I don't gamble," he said.
Oh, Ray.
Your whole future is one big gamble and you're playing your hand like one of those slick, cowboy hat-wearing, dark wrap-around shades donning professional poker hustlers on the TV.
John, also known as Jack, Riley failed to respond to two messages about his client that I left with his assistant in Philadelphia. When I reached a federal prosecutor, he chuckled and said he would pass the casino sighting on to the prosecutors in the case. I didn't bother to call nice judge Caputo, who must feel like a mook now that he knows he's been played like the perfect sucker hand in Coal Fields Hold 'Em.
That night in the casino, a witness said Musto smiled and glad-handed people who approached him. They called him "Senator" and told him how happy they were to see him. Callers have recently reported seeing Musto and his wife grocery shopping as well.
That's great. I'm glad that he's "coming along" and is getting stronger every day.
If I were Caputo, I'd set a new trial date for tomorrow - assuming Caputo is serious about justice, that is.
Tried, true and trite, the investigative mantra that unravels white collar corporate crime also works for political handicapping.
So bet the farm on Mitt Romney.
The Republican money man is pure capital. Despite his flip-flopping flaws, big bucks boost his stature even among members of the Grand Old Party who despise him. This red-blooded, white skinned great greenback of a candidate makes his campaign banner a colorful hue of red, white and emerald.
And the pot of gold at the end of that rainbow will forever top the staid, conservative red, white and blue heritage of the America's favorite WASP party any day.
Newt Gingrich is a washed up adulterer. Ron Paul is a kooky militia man melting precious metal in the bunker. And Rick Santorum is a man of smoke and mirrors, an increasingly dramatic religious warlord whose rise to glory seems almost angelic until you see the killer mean streak that wants to deny liberty (mostly to women and other infidels) while offering freedom.
Mitt simply says it with cash.
If combine the personal wealth of all the past presidents since Richard Nixon Romney is worth twice as much. Please contemplate that frenetic financial fact of political life. When you're a Republican, money can buy you love. When you're Mitt, even forever in blue jeans, money absolutely makes the man.
The more checks that Mitt or his lieutenants in the super PACS (political action committees) write, when special interests start raising hundreds of millions on his behalf, the love fest will spread. Fickle and prissy powerbrokers will fall in line and support Mr. Mormon Money Bags who will brazenly try to buy his way into the White House.
Mitt might just make it.
President Barack Obama has vehemently opposed groups outside his campaign from raising money his behalf. That changed this week. Barack now also wants to follow the money – right up to special delivery special interest deposits for his future re-election.
Hope and change now takes on new meaning.
Barack hopes he can pull in all the third-party money he can get. Special interests crave change that benefits them.
No more chump change we can believe in. We're talking treasure that makes Newt's Tiffany purchases look like he bought them on a lead credit card. C'mon big money, as they say on the "Wheel of Fortune." Barack is grinning and spinning the wheel.
But you have to wonder if the laughter stops when Barack sits alone in the Oval office listening to Marvin Gay singing about getting it on. Even America's Big Brother knows he's a penniless piker compared to Mitt.
And, while Mitt picks up steam, Barack is losing some high-profile back-up.
A New York Times story yesterday broke startling news about the lackluster support for Obama's re-election in some liberal quarters – particularly from the man who might be the most notorious liberal political backer in the world.
George Soros, the anti-Christ to Republicans and billionaire businessman who contributed $27.5 million to Democratic efforts during the 2004 presidential campaign, recently said that Obama reminded him of Romney, according to the Times.
"There isn't all that much difference," Soros said.
That news must have put dollar signs in Romney's eyes. Dangling a golden carrot on a sterling stick in front of Soros just might result in dividends for both men. If Soros wants something from a President Romney he will no doubt get it. So how hard will it be for Soros to jump ship and forsake Obama the way Newt has forsaken how many wives?
What can Barack give George? Chicago? Joe Biden?
Barack's already in big trouble.
His campaign has even promised to give back several hundred thousand dollars in contributions from a couple of brothers whose other brother, Pepe, is a wanted man in Mexico and is alleged to have ordered a hit on a business rival as Pepe appeased the drug cartels and worked his way into the casino business south of the border.
That's enough to make Barack convert to Mormonism. To an increasing number of potential voters, Barack is more Rev. Wright than Mr. Right. With only nine months left until the election that seems very, very wrong.
Show me the moola?
Barack raised $750 million for his 20008 campaign.
Mitt's probably got that much in his dirty jean pockets at the bottom of the palace clothes hamper.
Of all the people I wanted to meet in hard coal country when I moved to Wilkes-Barre in 1985, reputed Mafia kingpin Russell Bufalino topped the list.
I wanted to be respectful, of course, so I talked with a connected guy I had met at the bar of the late Tony Perugino's restaurant on South Main Street. Tony had tossed Russell out of the restaurant one night years before and the story made the affable restaurateur legendary.
Nobody did that to Russell – nobody but Tony.
But the word came back negative.
My guy said he had asked Russell's bodyguard and reputed mobster Billy D'Elia who nixed my request.
Years later Russell and I eventually did meet. He had recently been released from federal prison and after suffering a stroke sat in the doorway of his Kingston home, sunning himself in a wheelchair with a blanket folded across his lap.
I rolled up, spotted him and, on a whim, pulled the black SUV to the curb. Jumping out in a black double-breasted suit and matching t-shirt, I crossed the street and made a beeline to the boss.
As soon as I saw his eyes widen, I knew what I had done. I had terrified one of the most feared reputed dons in the history of the mob. His face told me that he thought I was going to shoot him.
So I kneeled, patted his hand and told him not to worry. I told him that he knew my uncles and had sent the largest flower arrangement at my grandfather's 1966 funeral. The story goes that Pa had saved a relative of Russell's after a coal mine cave-in and Russell was forever grateful.
As we spoke, his wife walked up behind him and pointed at her husband, silently mouthing the words, "He's depressed." No longer able to speak, this underworld icon who figured into everything from ordering the hit on Jimmy Hoffa to the JFK assassination to a plot to kill Fidel Castro, knew that time was short. I told him to savor the sunshine, patted his hand again and said my gentle good-bye. Russell died not long after our encounter.
Should crossing paths with Russell be held against me or my family?
Absolutely not.
This is a tight community. We often know people who are not necessarily our friends and who too often come up on the wrong side of the law. The test of integrity, however, is how deeply we get involved with those whose character too regularly comes into question. Around here that's too often.
I've known many of the criminals who have gone to prison in the aftermath of our ongoing federal public corruption probe. I made small talk in the courtroom with gangster Judge Mark Ciavarella as well as his lawyer, a hot shot my father had actually arrested decades ago.
During A.J. Munchak's trial, I awkwardly kidded with the former Lackawanna County Commissioner. After a judge sentenced him to serve seven years in prison, I asked Munchak if he was still an innocent man, as he has maintained since prosecutors announced the indictment against him. A.J. leaned my way, flicked the lapels of my suit jacket with his fingers and gave me a strange grin, the meaning of which I still cannot decipher.
A.J.'s co-defendant and former Lackawanna County Commissioner Bob Cordaro and I always got along. I talked regularly with him and his family during the trial. Cordaro went right to prison last week for an eleven-year stretch.
Now we await the next big trial.
Standing in the wings, former state Sen. Raphael "Ray" Musto prepares for his day in court. Charged with public corruption and selling the soul of his public service, Musto has pleaded not guilty. But a judge has determined that he is ill enough to postpone his trial until June. Musto's lawyer claims his client is not in good enough shape to assist in the preparation of his own defense.
After appearing at the federal courthouse in Scranton to formally enter his plea, Musto shook hands with me and said he hopes that we can one day sit down to talk about what he called a travesty of justice that singled him out for persecution and prosecution. I said that I, too, hope we can sit together. Musto once told me on the phone to stop by his office anytime and that we could go "have a sandwich" together. Almost 83, Musto remains old-fashioned, for better or for worse.
When my dad died in 1997, Musto and a friend showed up at the same funeral home to which Russell sent the flowers for my grandfather. I missed the senator and his driver that night but appreciated the sentiment that remains a part of what political scientists call "home-style" politics.
The guy with Ray was the same guy I had asked to arrange a meeting with Russell so many years ago. We no longer speak but I saw him recently at an oldies band reunion. He nodded. I nodded. Then we went our separate ways.
Is hard coal country political corruption getting worse instead of better?
Maybe.
Because when you weigh illegal political corruption against the day-to-day unethical political business as usual, you realize that the culture of corruption is still running full speed ahead.
The Pennsylvania Ethics Commission yesterday excused Wilkes-Barre Mayor Tom Leighton's practice of hiring close family members for summer jobs, explaining that Leighton didn't actually hire his son, daughter, niece and nephew.
The commission brain trust decided that the city human resources officer hired them.
Leighton just signed the official paperwork.
In my book that means he hired blood relatives for public service jobs from which he and they benefitted over the years. He benefitted because he didn't have to dig into his deep pockets to hand out spending money the way too many strapped parents often do. They benefitted because they got valuable experience and connections that would grease the skids for them in their future job searches.
Once again Leighton walked away unscathed.
Not long ago, after writing a letter meant to influence a federal judge who was preparing to sentence a criminal buddy of Leighton's, the mayor did everything he could to mislead the public about his correspondence.
He refused to answer my question when I cornered him on Public Square and asked him about the letter.
The only reason we found out the truth was because Leighton's opponent in Leighton's unsuccessful bid for a state senate seat hit him with the same question during a debate.
Leighton lost the Senate nomination, his buddy went to prison and Leighton got re-elected to his job as mayor.
Now, he's walking around like he owns the city.
In a way he does.
All we can hope for is a federal investigation into the ways and means of City Hall.
Up north in Lackawanna County the new Democratic majority commissioners have created new jobs designed to better publicize the county. A communication director's gig worth $52,000 a year and four baby communications specialist jobs at $36,000 a pop will be filled any day now.
Commissioners Corey O'Brien and Jim Wansacz announced the jobs last week.
They only announced the salaries yesterday. The deadline for sending resumes is today.
Interviews have already begun, said Wansacz in today's Times Tribune, adding that nobody should be surprised if the people chosen to fill these few cushy public service positions are not some of the same people who worked on his and O'Brien's election campaigns.,
"It could be – yeah, absolutely. If they have the right connections, absolutely," Wansacz said.
It is shard to believe that the new chairman of the county commissioners really said the county needs people who are connected. But we're at such a point of run amok bravado that elected officials no longer ever try to spin the sad facts of nepotism, patronage and cronyism.
They don't have to.
Most people don't vote and those who do buy the party line in the hopes that one day maybe they or somebody in their family tree can hop from a low-hanging branch into a low-level government job with benefits.
Like a deadly coal mine cave-in, for the rest of us there's just no way out. That light at the end of the tunnel is a runaway locomotive heading full speed ahead toward fairness, equality and real public trust.
That's why the ongoing federal public corruption investigation in Luzerne and Lackawanna counties that so far has netted more than 30 criminal public officials and their business boosters must continue.
But, truth be told, we're a little leery of the feds, as well. The only time they answer questions publicly is when they address the press in front of the Scranton federal courthouse after a sentencing.
Are prosecutors political when it comes to deciding who and who not to pursue? Are they ever part of the culture of corruption? Do they ever turn away from justice?
Sadly, I believe they sometimes do.
As Wansacz said of his own political decision making, "that is the reality of it."
After one last look, I turned and fixed his face in my mind forever – or at least for as long as it takes to forget.
Bob Cordaro stood stunned and transfixed by the prospect of being shackled at the ankles and handcuffed with a belly belt chained to his waist. Only moments of freedom remained as the former Lackawanna County Republican majority commissioner's face reddened and he awaited his last hugs and kisses from family members.
Then he was gone.
I walked into the light of a beautiful Monday.
He walked with marshals to an awaiting van that whisked him away to detention.
Eleven years must pass – with some time off for good behavior – before the 50-year-old lawyer and one-time political wheeler-dealer emerges from federal custody. He might die inside. His aging parents might die outside. Anything can happen, as happens in life, to his children.
These are sad, but true, facts of life.
Judge Richard Caputo had told Cordaro how circumstances such as his "tear families apart."
But that's the way it goes.
Caputo told defendant A.J. Munchak, Cordaro's one-time running mate and majority commissioner, the same thing.
Too bad.
That's life – or at least seven years that, in Munchak's unhealthy condition, could kill him in prison as well. Munchak tried to use his lousy physical condition to his advantage in asking for consideration. The judge complied, giving him until April 3 to report to a federal institution, likely a medical facility, where his undisclosed condition would be treated.
A few days before sentencing, Munchak had checked into a Scranton hospital because of dizziness and shortness of breath. He told the judge Monday that his doctor told him he could have died.
Munchak could have died years ago from his weight alone.
Pressure on the heart comes easily for an obese 65-year-old. But at least his dismal health got him a two month reprieve.
Cordaro wasn't so lucky.
Looking fit, the former college football player and Ivy League lawyer, seemed ready for the gym or a trey-out for the inmate football team
Look out Burt Reynolds.
But the longest yard yet awaits Cordaro and his partner in crime.
These boys are in for some hard time.
I'm not saying their sentences will turn into a prison drama like you see on the raw television episodes of life behind bars. I'm saying that their long lives of power and privilege have ended, that even their choice of toilet paper is no longer a choice at all.
Even the privacy of their personal toilet habits will now be invaded.
Cordaro asked the judge for leniency not for himself but for his family. Forever slick, he let the judge know that they would pay more than he. But the judge saw through the scam.
Cordaro even mentioned his bull dog, pointing out that such species don't live very long.
Poor puppy.
The mutt will likely have to die alone.
And A.J. will have to read his Bible in his cell or dorm or prison hospital bed whenever time for spiritual nourishment overtakes him. His daughter told the judge about her dad publicly and privately reading the Good Book. But the appeal to the judge's faith didn't work.
Both defendants still got breaks. They could have been sentenced to far more time and should have been.
But some justice is always better than no justice.
