Steve Reed talks to the press after yesterday’s plea deal was announced.
“This sends a strong message about public corruption.”
So said Rebecca Franz, the deputy attorney general who led the state’s case against former Harrisburg Mayor Steve “Careless Packer” Reed.
And I immediately thought, ah yes, the old “message” word, the last refuge of a prosecutor trying to blow sunshine up a failed case—and save face for her office.
Yesterday, Reed, claiming he accidentally took home about $18,000 worth of historic documents while packing up his office years ago, agreed to a plea deal. Come Friday, he’ll likely be sentenced to probation, which led me to wonder what Franz meant by, “This sends a strong message about public corruption.”
What’s that strong message exactly? To do it?
Engage in a multi-decade abuse of power? Treat the people’s money as your own? Carry out crazy financial schemes? Mobilize a government to satisfy your bizarre fixations? Drive a city into a fiscal abyss? Get caught red-handed with your purloined old-timey treasures?
Do it—you’ll get off lighter than your average shoplifter.
However, afterwards, I actually discovered a silver lining to this profound lack of justice. Talking and texting with city residents, I found some outrage out there—and rightly so. But, for the most part, people seemed to greet the news with a collective, bemused shrug.
How is this good news?
The people of Harrisburg have moved on. Time doesn’t stand still and, while, for some, Reed’s 28-year reign may seem like yesterday, it’s practically ancient history to many others. Since Reed’s 2009 primary loss, Harrisburg has changed so much that it’s no longer his city, and we’re all the better for having been freed from his obsessive control and smug paternalism.
Now, we endured quite the ordeal to get here. When a dictator falls, power lies in the streets, as the saying goes. And, while Reed’s successor, Linda Thompson, couldn’t do much with it, she knew enough to step aside and let the professionals handle the catastrophe. Their solution was hardly perfect, but it was OK enough to help stabilize the city, which allowed the far more competent Papenfuse administration to carry on with reconstructing the municipal body.
But, really, Harrisburg never stood still. As the public sector imploded, the private sector stepped up, even during the city’s darkest days. So, Harrisburg today hardly resembles the top-down Reed era of grand, destructive projects and tacky tourist attractions. It’s being rebuilt from the bottom up, preserving what remains of its historic character, by developers and businesspeople looking primarily to repopulate the city and grow the market.
Since Reed left office, Harrisburg has become more youthful, vibrant, welcoming and diverse. Businesses have moved in, the economy is deeper, and the recovery is more sustainable. We can go forward with bettering our lives without needing to bow low to a city hall strongman and under the constant threat of bone-crushing debt. Yes, there’s always something to argue about around here—it’s hardly nirvana. But the trend is positive, and it seems maintainable.
On Friday, Franz may well repeat her vacuous statement about “sending a message.” She might even add what I half-expected to hear yesterday—that tired old cliché that, “It’s now time to move on.” However, she needn’t say that. In Harrisburg, we already have.
Author: Lawrance Binda
