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Showing posts with label Mall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mall. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Springfield Fish That Got Away



 

In an unsigned article in the Valley Advocate last week in their "Splash" section, someone who may or may not have been Maureen Turner wrote about the declining drama of the Springfield, Massachusetts corruption investigations, stating:

Perhaps the disappointment comes from the creeping sense that, after years of providing the best show in town, the feds have more or less closed up shop in their public corruption probe. While we've seen a flurry of convictions of late, it's been a long time since we've been treated to a nice, juicy indictment - and there are plenty of creeps still hanging around the city who deserve one.

Oh yes, indeed there are! And if in fact the probe has petered out (although never underestimate the FBI) then what better time to take stock of the fish who got away. Here's an incomplete listing:

Congressman Richard Neal - In the 1990's corruption probe by former State Attorney General Scott Harshbarger, both the Washington Post and the Boston Globe reported that the real target of the investigation was Congressman Neal. Even the Springfield Newspapers admitted as much, but only after the probe was safely over.

Harshbarger failed to bag his congressman because longtime Neal crony and confidant Francis Keough, after at first promising to co-operate with Harshbarger as part of a plea bargain, developed a bad case of amnesia. Perhaps more importantly, Harshbarger developed a bad case of gubernatorial ambition, and feared that pressing the probe would alienate the Western Mass Democrat machine. Although Harshbarger backed off, it still left hard feelings. When Harshbarger ran for Governor in 1998, at Neal's instruction the local Dems sat on their hands as a act of vengeance.

So when later the FBI came around, it seemed like common sense that they would pick up the ball where Harshbarger had dropped it and go after Neal again. That seemed especially likely when another key Neal ally, Raymond "Papa Ray" Asselin went down in a hail of indictments. The Asselins were handling a lot of federal funds administered through federal programs, meaning a close working relationship between Neal and Asselin was essential. Did that close relationship lead Neal to know anything about all the dirty deals that went down?

When shortly after his arrest Asselin was spotted prominently dining with Neal at The Fort restaurant, it was seen by many as an important signal to the local Democrat machine members: We're standing by the Asselins so KEEP YOUR MOUTHS SHUT! Apparently it worked, as no prominent local Democrat ever spoke against either of them. Although wiretaps insured that nothing could save Papa Ray from a lengthy prison term, amazingly not a drop of mud ever splashed on Richie.

Mayor Michael Albano - Oh how his enemies salivated at the thought of watching the TV footage of the former Hizzoner being taken away in handcuffs. But although almost the entire top echelon of his administration were either disgraced, indicted or convicted, Albano himself somehow escaped scot free. However, he cannot escape the judgement of local historians, who will certainly declare him to be the worst mayor in the history of Springfield.

Rep. Saco Catjakis - In his heyday he was a Mr. Fixit known to have his fingers in many pies. His indictment seemed a certainty after federal agents raided his home, but to everyone's surprise no charges were ever filed.

Atty. Raipher Pellegrino - Once regarded as the wonderboy of Springfield politics, former City Councilor Raipher fell in with a bad crowd, namely Albano and his pals the Ardolino brothers. By the time the voters threw him out of office, Raipher was known as a cynical deal maker whose name was associated with numerous shady and controversial affairs. People expected that a series of indictments would clear the air, but while the feds made it obvious that they were looking at him very closely, in the end nothing happened.

Ray Jordan - Even while he was in office charges of conflicts of interest dogged this former state rep. It seemed natural that as the feds did their homework that they would take an interest in his controversies. Not only did that not materialize, but Jordan, never known for his humility, now brazenly poses as an elder statesman in the Sarno for Mayor campaign.

Robert McCollum- The plunging of the city into debt over the building of palatial school buildings of dubious need came to symbolize the wild fiscal irresponsibility of the Albano years. Overseeing it all was former School Committee member McCollum, who also served as the affirmative action enforcer, deciding who would get the fat plums awarded strictly on the basis of skin color. As one minority contractor told me who refused to participate in bidding after dealing with McCollum, "No white supremacist would have made me grovel before him like McCollum expected you to do to get those affirmative action set-aside contracts." With so much money involved, and so many enemies, it seemed impossible for McCollum not to get caught in the web; and investigators did indeed give the school construction program a serious look. Yet McCollum never did the perp walk.

And no doubt there were others, with ties to these big fish, who perhaps should have gone down as well. However, it looks like they all swam safely away. Or did they? Francis Keough thought he was home free when the Harshbarger probe fell through, only to find himself heading to prison at a later date. Who knows who may yet face a similar fate?


Friday, July 27, 2007

At the Mall


The most common way for me to walk the rail trail is to take the bus to the Hampshire Mall in Hadley and walk the trail back into Amherst. Last night however when I got off the bus I decided to walk around the mall. 




 

At one point I spotted sitting by himself, sipping tea in the food court, this guy I had met before and spoken briefly with at UMass. He wants to be a professional dancer on Broadway and TV and other such mediums. I've never seen him dance, but even if he has two left feet he could still be an instant sensation in a strip club, what with his great build and long flowing blond hair. He remembered me and invited me to sit down. I asked him how the dancing career was coming along.

He sounded discouraged. Though he was just 22, he knew of people younger than him who already had dancing gigs in New York City, even on Broadway. Meanwhile, he was working in a coffee shop. He wondered whether he was getting too old, dancers being like professional athletes who only have a certain window to make it or you're considered over the hill. Wow, what must it be like to have to wonder whether you're past your prime at 22?

I tried to be encouraging. I told him how the worst sin most people commit in their lives is when they give up their highest dreams of their best self too easily and too early. If you fail at what you love then you fail, but at least you have the finality of failure and the peace of mind that comes from knowing you gave it your best. What tortures a lot of people their whole lives is that they are never really certain what they could have achieved because they never really tried. They sold out for the conventional and the secure and the respectable, and so they will never know what could've been possible. In that sense they suffer far worse than those who genuinely try and fail.

He seemed heartened by these thoughts, but then referred to other clouds gathering on his horizon - he had a girlfriend (damn!) and was engaged to be married. I think it was Oscar Wilde who said that marriage has killed more artistic careers than any critic. That's because inevitably there comes the day when the spouse says put away those dancing shoes (or pen, or paint brush or whatever) and get a real job, one that will pay for the rent and Johnny's bike and Sally's braces. Lip service is usually paid to resuming the career at a later, more opportune time. Then one day you wake up and you realize that too many years have slipped by and it just ain't ever gonna happen and thus you spend the rest of your days wondering about what might have been.

I told him he should quit his job in the coffee shop and head down to New York immediately and pound the streets of Broadway and off Broadway and even off-off Broadway until either a door opened or slammed permanently shut. I don't know whether he will follow my suggestion, but he did seem genuinely inspired. He shook my hand as we parted. Thus did the beautiful blonde dancer waltz right out of my life.

My sister Bev and I took my father out to eat yesterday at The Crest, an overlooked gem of a restaurant in West Springfield. They have a neat collection of sports collectibles, such as this handbill from the 1969 World Series. Notice how the Orioles are printed in psychedelic script, which was wholly appropriate for 1969. (Click to enlarge.) 





Here's a great old advertisement featuring a Red Sox deity.