Our Collective Legacy: We all share some responsibility for Harrisburg’s past; we all should embrace responsibility for a better future.

July 31, 2015 | by J. Alex Hartzler

Harrisburg is back in the national news again.

The 499 criminal counts against former Mayor Stephen Reed earned mention on the pages of the Wall Street Journal, the Washington Post and even national TV. This is just a short while after our city’s brush with bankruptcy from the incinerator debacle that brought infamy and ridicule. Depending on your perspective, the criminal charges against Reed are unnecessary grave-digging into a sordid political past or (for a seemingly growing number of people) a sense of justice finally delivered. Nearly all agree that the news represents something less than our community’s finest hour.

Similar news will likely continue for quite some time. The attorney general promised additional indictments stemming from a Reed-led “criminal enterprise” that spent millions of dollars of fees derived from municipal bond financings to purchase artifacts for museums. While some of those city-owned artifacts have already been sold off at steep losses, many more are either on public display (in the National Civil War Museum, for one) or in various storage spots around the city, including, allegedly and until recently, Reed’s personal home. Regardless of the ultimate resolution and disposition of these artifacts and the wisdom or utility of a Civil War museum, it is quite clear that city residents remain responsible for paying back the bonds that made their purchase possible.

The former “mayor for life,” who served from January 1982 until January 2010, maintains his innocence and vows to fight to clear his name. The eventual trial, perhaps together with a number of others involving those who helped to facilitate the bond fee boondoggle, promises to divert our attention from things that need to be done today to things that were done years in the past. Questions about who received what money for what work on what financings will no doubt be asked and (hopefully) answered. But the questions about what needs to be done to move our city forward unfortunately will not.

Current Mayor Eric Papenfuse rightly points out that many of the things some complain about today, including high parking and trash collection rates, as well as neglected infrastructure, are due in part to the millions in bond fees that went to build museums and buy artifacts rather than to the basic building blocks for our city. Papenfuse, in turn, deserves credit for his focus on the decidedly non-sexy items of potholes, vacant buildings, trash pick-up and safe streets, all the while under-spending on shrunken city budgets. His “more with less” approach is certainly a welcome contrast to actions detailed in the attorney general’s criminal presentment.

Papenfuse also called upon the board of the Civil War Museum to close and return the artifacts on display, saying the museum serves as a “monument to corruption.” All indications are that the board has no such intention, setting up additional acrimony and potential litigation from both sides. Regardless of your view on the merits of a Civil War museum, everyone should encourage the mayor and board to not waste yet more civic energy and resources. There should be a realization that, while none of the current parties created the situation, it is their responsibility to try to resolve it, amicably, for the benefit of the city residents who made the museum possible. The mayor and board, at minimum, should pledge to resolve the issue via negotiation and cooperation, not the court system.

For his part, Reed continues to deny any ownership of the city financial problems, claiming that a contractor’s failure to perform needed upgrades to the city-owned incinerator is to blame. The heart of the legal presentment against him, however, is whether or not Reed had the right to use fees from those financings for purposes other than those stated in the bonds. Vampire-hunting kits and buffalo heads make for easy ridicule. However, the real question is, would it make any difference if the mayor had used the funds to purchase items of a less ridiculous nature?

No doubt, the law needs to answer how it is that municipal bonds are allowed to include fees that can be used for such things. Presumably, bond buyers would be less interested in buying municipal bonds if they knew that part of the proceeds would help to build a Civil War or a Wild West museum in a small Pennsylvania city that had relatively little to do with either.

But, even if that’s true, I would caution the wider community to not use this as an opportunity for easy finger pointing, since collectively we do not escape the blame unscathed. All of us need to face difficult questions of exactly how this happened on our watch and, in some sense, take ownership, even if the main protagonists will not.

What responsibility do we all bear for this civic debacle? We, the citizens of Harrisburg, with tacit endorsement from the media and the communities around us, elected Mayor Reed a remarkable seven times over 24 years. To say that he did nothing right and that we are all merely innocent bystanders is to hide from the truth. We liked him for the good feelings he gave us and the seemingly good deeds he did.

At his best, Reed gave us a collective belief and confidence, however chimerical in retrospect it may have been, that the city was heading in the right direction. Somewhere along the line, though, things began to turn, and that collective belief and confidence began to erode. Whether it was due to his overconfidence from past successes or something more pathological in nature, Reed increasingly focused on amassing artifacts for ill-conceived museum projects that would ultimately overshadow the positives. As his longtime advisor Randy King told him, according to the grand jury report, “You’ve got to stop this, you’ve got to cut it out, it’s just going to kill your career.” Indeed it did—and nearly the city, too. But few of us noticed at the time, let alone helped King make his point.

The truth is, there was no one around to make him stop. Those close to him enabled him or benefited financially from him or both. To a person, this inner circle still doesn’t own the problem. Not their fault, they say. They were just doing what they were told.

For the most part, most of us, like them, were content to see the mayor take care of Harrisburg, so that we could go on with our lives, devoid of the responsibilities of ownership of our capital city. While in office, Reed may have sucked all the oxygen out of the room, so to speak, but that easy vacuum allowed many of us to avoid the hard work of real civic engagement and sustainable growth and development.

More than the artifacts, the misguided museums or the alleged criminal misconduct, that might be the saddest legacy of the Reed era—that many in the region weren’t left with any real connection or feelings of responsibility toward Harrisburg. While things were going well, he was the hero; when they went wrong, the pariah. “Let the city fail,” they say. “They elected him, and we are safe out here in the suburbs.” “The city is someone else’s problem, not ours.” If this ordeal accomplishes anything, it’s hopefully showing how wrong that kind of thinking is and that it must begin to change.

For the city to truly move forward from this, we all have to acknowledge and take responsibility for what happened to make certain that it doesn’t happen again. And by that, I don’t simply mean the alleged criminal misconduct, as important as that is. More broadly, I mean we can never allow a single person or organization or entity to hold the reins of the city while ignoring our civic duties to question, engage and, most importantly, do the hard work it takes for a community to be strong—whether that means picking up trash or fixing up a building or getting involved in city life and doing more than the bare minimum that is required. Maybe it just means acknowledging that the health of Harrisburg matters to the health of our region. Maybe it just means giving a damn.

The first step is admitting. The next step is doing. This is our collective penance, and, despite whatever Reed did, it’s the legacy that we can still leave behind.

J. Alex Hartzler is publisher of TheBurg.

Starting Young: Harrisburg no longer offers pre-K. Several groups are trying to fill the gap.

July 31, 2015 | by M. Diane McCormick

In Harrisburg, there’s a magic number—1,719.

That’s the number of 3- and 4-year-olds living in the city, according to the 2010 U.S. census. Those pre-school years, educators say, are when the brain reaches peak developmental powers. The neurological foundation for learning, socialization, communications and critical thinking is built from birth to age 5.

Educators also agree that quality pre-kindergarten helps build that foundation, especially among disadvantaged children. So, back to the number of 1,719. There are 546 children enrolled in Capital Area Head Start’s pre-school in the city of Harrisburg. An additional 400-plus are on the waiting list. A handful are in other quality programs.

As for the rest—many might be in good pre-schools, or are being raised by parents and grandparents who excel at instilling the basics of literacy and math and socialization in their little ones.

Or they might not. It’s just not known. What is known is that not all children receive quality early learning experiences, which means that they will enter kindergarten behind their peers academically and socially. If they’re not reading at grade level by third grade, they’re much less likely to graduate from high school, reports the Annie E. Casey Foundation.

Currently, the state of pre-kindergarten in Harrisburg is somewhat disjointed, comprising puzzle pieces waiting to form a cohesive picture. Many groups are doing their part. In Allison Hill, Kirk Hallett is founder and director of Joshua Group, whose Joshua Learning Center houses a pre-kindergarten serving about 25 children from the surrounding neighborhood.

“I see how valuable early childhood learning is for the rest of these kids’ lives,” says Hallett. “It gives them a chance they wouldn’t have otherwise to own their future through education, instead of the alternative. You really want to walk in that classroom and say, ‘Guess what, only half of you are gonna graduate?’ You might as well go in there and say, ‘Which half do we pick?’ And that’s what’s actually going on, in a way.”

Family Focus

In the Harrisburg area, the picture starts with Capital Area Head Start, a division of Keystone Human Services, which provides pre-kindergarten and other early learning services for children in Dauphin, Cumberland and Perry counties.

With federal funding, Head Start serves families with incomes up to 100 percent of the poverty line, or $24,250 for a family of four. Additional state funds extend services to families earning three times as much, or about $75,000, but in the city, most families served are “either the working poor, or they fall at 100 percent,” says Jo Pepper, executive director of Capital Area Head Start.

Through Head Start, every child builds educational, social and emotional skills according to a personalized development plan. All parents are assisted with parenting skills and their own personal goals, such as earning a GED or learning new job skills.

“Our vision is to be a state-of-the-art early childhood program that is responsive to the needs of children and family,” Pepper says. “We’re preparing children for school and success in life.”

There was a time when the Harrisburg School District got grant funding to run its own pre-kindergarten classes, but those classes were eliminated when the funding crisis hit. Today, Head Start’s Harrisburg classrooms include seven leased in the school district’s Foose Elementary, and there’s hope for four more.

“Being in school provides opportunities for more interaction between our teachers and kindergarten and first- and second-grade teachers, more opportunities to work on curriculum or programming together,” says Pepper. “I’m not saying we have really attained success, but we’re working on it.”

The district, meanwhile, has convened an Early Childhood Task Force with the goal of turning Foose into an early childhood academy, says Superintendent Dr. Sybil Knight-Burney.

The academy would house pre-kindergarten classrooms and much more—a health center, a “reading library” of books that children can read by themselves or with parents, resources for grandparents raising children, and spaces where parents and grandparents can understand their role “to create safe learning environments, establish routines, do simple games to help children learn colors, write, learn their ABCs—basic things to be ready to go to school,” says Knight-Burney.

“How do we have a building that really focuses on the family and on really helping students try to get up to speed or get up to the grade level where they should be, and help them progress in the right way?” says Knight-Burney. “We know the importance of being in a literacy-rich environment, but what happens if you don’t come to school from a literacy-rich environment?”

The district is also reaching out to other pre-schools, such as church-based programs, because “someone has these kids somewhere, and we’ve been looking for them,” says Knight-Burney.

The intent is to create “external classrooms,” aligned with learning standards and earning state Keystone STARS ratings indicating high quality, she says.

The hitch, as always, is funding. The four additional Head Start classrooms for Foose depend on funding from Pennsylvania Pre-K Counts, a state allocation for quality pre-K aligned with school curricula and standards. The external classrooms program is looking for Educational Improvement Tax Credits, a state program that grants businesses tax credits in exchange for educational donations. An early childhood academy would require a wide range of funding sources and community partners.

The Best Kid

Outside the realm of public funding, Joshua Group’s pre-school was founded around 2013 when a retired educator volunteered to start a program. Originally, families were recruited from the St. Francis of Assisi’s soup kitchen. Word of mouth brought in other families.

Teacher Emily Hallett, Kirk’s daughter who has an early childhood degree, says that some children arrive not knowing “colors, letters, shapes.” Their parents don’t understand their roles as teachers “because they weren’t brought up that way.” While she’s teaching children the basics, she’s providing parents tips on such things as counting steps as they walk up the stairs or counting socks as they fold laundry.

As for the children, she is intent on instilling not just academics but a “structural routine.”

“A lot of it’s, ‘Sit still, learn to walk nicely in the hallway, use your manners,’” she says. “I know kids who were kicked out of public school because they have ‘behavior problems.’ No. He’s a boy. He’s 4.”

What the child ate for breakfast—if there was any breakfast—and a troubled home situation can also enter into the classroom, she says. But her students are learning while they play, and they’re finding stability, which is known to counteract the damaging effects of toxic stress, such as drug use or abuse in the home, on the developing brain.

“When they’re here, I hold all my kids to high expectations, even my 4 and 5 year olds,” she says. “You look at me and say, ‘Excuse me.’ When you’re going from Joshua Group, you’re going to be the best kid you can be.”

Harrisburg resident Layton Potter has seen the difference Joshua Group pre-school has made in his twin daughters as they prepare to enter kindergarten. They’re his “miracle children,” born preemies and now living in the inner city, where “there’s not much emphasis on learning and respect.”

Through Joshua Group, they indulge their inquisitiveness and learn manners, while the guidance he received in parenting and life choices helps him “set a path and stick to the foundation they laid.”

“I really needed to buckle down and give my all to my girls,” he says. “It made my life better. I’m making better choices, better decisions. I have to be a role model all the time.”

Wrap Support

Of course, as pre-school operators like to say, parents are their children’s first and most important teachers. To help wrap pre-schoolers 24/7 in the enriching atmosphere that boosts development, the Foundation for Enhancing Communities administers Parents & Partners, through federal funds disbursed by the state.

Parents & Partners targets Harrisburg’s elementary schools, enhancing school readiness, literacy and family engagement. The program reaches families through disparate threads in the community. Head Start and Joshua Group waiting lists, Boys and Girls Club, Salvation Army, soup kitchens, shelters, church programs, Tri-County Community Action—anywhere there’s programming for families, there are parents whose children need school readiness.

“These families have become so disconnected,” says Parents & Partners program manager Leslie Fick. “The generational poverty continues to perpetuate itself, and sometimes, they just don’t know where to go. This program is intended to wrap support around the family through multiple community partners.”

The wide-ranging program includes teacher professional development on engaging families and cultural awareness, family events, providing school supplies and even creating a calendar with parenting tips. All are delivered through community partners, including the Harrisburg school district. Parenting classes have attracted families who attend successive sessions because they’re learning so much.

“I’ve seen a big change in the moms and how they interact with their kids,” says Fick. “The extension of language, asking what color is this. They’ve told us their children are more apt to learn. They notice things they hadn’t noticed before.”

TFEC is seeking expanded involvement and donations from businesspeople, who have a stake because quality early learning instills the foundation for STEM skills and workplace ethics that businesses will continue to demand in coming years.

“There are a lot of wonderful minds in these little children that need to be developed, and who knows?” says TFEC President and CEO Janice R. Black. “We could have geniuses in this group, and we don’t even know it. These kids deserve a chance. They are worthy. The parents are worthy. They just don’t know how to do it, so we’re helping them.”

Solid Platform

Among the pieces waiting to find their place in the puzzle is the pre-kindergarten planned for Education Row, GreenWorks Development’s proposal for a spectrum of learning clustered in Midtown Harrisburg.

Education Row is slated to feature a U-GRO learning center whose early education component starts with child care at age 1 and extends through pre-kindergarten up to age 5. With well-trained staff and a state-of-the-art playground, the center would incorporate high-quality, standards-based programming toward the goal of assuring children “the social and emotional skills that will enable them to succeed in kindergarten,” says U-GRO President and CEO Greg Holsinger.

“Because by the time they are in third grade, they’ve probably been labeled, unfortunately, as a child that will succeed or a child that won’t, so it’s vital that children can start with a real good, solid platform in kindergarten,” he says.

The facility, in the renovated Republican Club in the 1400-block of N. 3^rd Street, would initially educate about 105 children, hopefully from a “complete demographic mix” of neighborhood children from low-income families and the kids of Capitol complex staffers, says Holsinger.

He’s seeking state-administered federal funding that would shave the tuition, possibly to average about $200 a week, for working families. Eventually, as many as 250 children could be served. Some would continue to Commonwealth Connections Academy, another Education Row tenant, while others would attend school elsewhere.

“If you’ve given kids the right start in pre-K, they’re gonna tackle whatever’s next,” says GreenWorks CEO Doug Neidich.

GreenWorks is “aggressively pursuing” the state and federal funding that will complete the financing picture, to allow groundbreaking around April 2016 and opening by April 2017, he says.

The funding needed to grow all pre-kindergarten offerings comes in a trickle. Gov. Tom Wolf’s 2015-16 budget proposal included a $120 million increase for pre-K, on top of existing funding.

For pre-K providers in Harrisburg, it can’t come soon enough. Joshua Group’s Hallett calls it a “no-brainer if we want to reduce significantly the levels of poverty and all those things that come with it—the crime, the delinquency, the budget, prisons, everything that drains a civilization.”

Pepper, of Capital Area Head Start, sees a growing need for high-quality early childhood programs.

“And, yes, I continue to believe that as people become more educated about the importance of early childhood and a child’s later success in life, the money’s going to continue.”

Taking Flight: Alan Tumblin has built a unique business for Pennsylvania—a private wine shop.

July 31, 2015 | by Cathy Jordan

Alan Tumblin, the friendly proprietor of Castlerigg Wine Shop, greeted me from behind his tasting bar as I walked inside the Queen Anne manse in downtown Carlisle.

A couple of stone dragons were perched on the floor by the entry, and Bacchus, the god of wine, stood in a corner wearing a grape leaf as a loin cloth. Located in the borough’s historic district, Castlerigg is something rare in Pennsylvania—a non-state-owned wine shop.

Tumblin was quick to point out how he—legally—gets around the state monopoly. He sells wine on behalf of two Pennsylvania wineries, which are permitted, as part of their licenses, to operate as many as five satellite locations.

“I have a personal mission,” he said. “I want to dispel the myth that Pennsylvania can’t make good wine and provide a great atmosphere for an education.”

Tumblin—dressed in a kilt, his usual attire—and I sat at a table in the dining area. I asked him about the shop’s name.

“Originally, I wanted to call my shop ‘Standing Stone Wine Shop,’ but learned there was a similarly named winery in the Finger Lakes,” he said.

In the end, he decided to name his business Castlerigg after one of the largest and most picturesque stone circles in England. Tumblin explained that he had always been fascinated with these ancient rings and had even constructed a standing stone circle on his home’s lawn with large stones he had shipped from the Ohio farm where he grew up.

Wine Shop to Wine Bar

Upon entering the corporate world, Tumblin moved to Pennsylvania and fell in love with Carlisle, especially the downtown area, with its diversity and history. He also saw an opportunity, as there were no officially licensed wineries in Carlisle and no wine shops other than the state stores. So, he decided to open one.

To prepare, he visited 19 wineries in six months, focusing on several criteria.

First, he had to like the wine well enough to want to sell it. Secondly, the winery had to like him well enough to do business with him. And, third, he wanted to be close enough to the winery to receive product, but far enough away that people would visit his shop for the wine. He ultimately partnered with Seven Mountains Wine Cellars in Centre County and The Vineyard at Grandview in Lancaster County.

In November 2013, he opened in a Carlisle mansion known as the Batem House. Rich in history and intricate in design, it was the perfect place for a wine shop, he believed.

Upon entering, an ornate front door greets you. It’s original to the house, as are the chestnut floors, the trim work and three fireplaces. Stained glass and artwork from local artisans decorate every room. In addition to the house’s history, Tumblin was drawn to the building because it is situated in the heart of downtown near BYOB restaurants and many other attractions.

The tasting bar, embellished with Celtic knots, is where guests receive an education in tasting.

“I expected to be a wine shop, but have embraced becoming a wine bar,” said Tumblin.

More Aware

Monica, a staff member, said she likes to teach people how to understand different flavors in the wines.

Patrons are presented with a wine glass, which has a logo consisting of a diagram of Castlerigg’s stone circle. Then menus are fanned across the bar. You can choose a flight of five wines or a pairing of wines, cheeses and chocolates, or a side-by-side wine comparison. (For fun, compare Seven Mountain’s cabernet franc alongside the Vineyard at Grandview’s cabernet franc—same grape, completely different results.)

Sit in the dining area and enjoy your wine, as well as light appetizers and desserts. Two outdoor, cozy porches are available for you to sip, eat, listen to music and people-watch.

For the past two years, St. Patrick’s Day has been celebrated with a five-course Irish dinner, each course paired with a wine. Castlerigg also has hosted retirements, painting parties, bridal showers and colonel promotions from the nearby U.S. Army War College.

The wine bar leads directly into the shop, where you can browse the selection of 50 wines, offerings from both wineries from dry to sweet. While you can’t leave the shop with a filled glass in hand, you can leave with a corked bottle—or a case of your favorite wine. Also for sale is wine bling such as T-shirts, wine journals and bottle openers.

The shop also features complementary food products like flavored oils and vinegars made in Lititz and jams and jellies produced in Centre Hall. The cheeses and chocolates are also local (Clover Creek Cheese Cellar and Mummert Candy Co.) and available for purchase.

I asked Tumblin how business was going.

“The first couple months were exhausting, but then I got into a rhythm,” he said. “We’re halfway through our second year and are exceeding last year’s sales.”

As for the future, Tumblin expressed no immediate plans to expand, as he’s limited by space. He has given thought to a distillery, but noted that prospect would come with issues of its own. Mostly, he’d like to keep growing with more patrons and more events.

“I’ve built a relationship with the local B&Bs and the restaurants,” he said. “People are more aware of Castlerigg.”

Castlerigg Wine Shop is located at 110 S. Hanover St., Carlisle. For more information, call 717-462-4663 or visit www.castleriggwineshop.com.

The Write Stuff: “A Novel Idea” puts aspiring authors through the paces.

July 31, 2015 | by Don Helin

Twenty-five years ago, Roger Smith, executive director of the Perry County Council of the Arts (PCCA), wrote a novel that he put his heart and soul into.

“I found an agent,” Smith said, “and she peddled it all over New York City, but no publisher picked it up, and I didn’t know why.”

He put the novel in a drawer, and, while he periodically pined over it, not much else happened.

Fast-forward to winter 2014, when Smith spotted an article about a workshop for writers. Thinking about starting something similar here, he contacted me, and we brainstormed one afternoon over a couple of beers. Thus marked the origin of “A Novel Idea,” a program for new writers under the flag of PCCA.

“So, in a sense, I was the target audience for this one-year writing course,” Smith said.

Taking Shape

We knew the program’s success would hinge on quality faculty. So, short story writer and playwright Lori Myers was one of the first authors we contacted.

“When Don asked me, well, I jumped at the chance,” said Myers. “It’s a win-win. On the one hand, students become immersed in one aspect of novel writing for an entire morning. For faculty, it’s a way to give back to those just starting out or those in the midst of a writing project. We are inspired by teaching them.”

Ann Stewart has taught the creative writing program at the Fredericksen Library for many years. In her view, one of the most important things for a writer to learn is how to become a masterful editor.

“As the saying goes, you don’t get a second chance to make a good first impression,” she said. “And, believe me, it’s true when you send a novel to an editor or agent.”

A six-person faculty developed a curriculum, and the class filled quickly. Designed for both new and experienced writers, “A Novel Idea”drew students from as far away as Lancaster and State College to the Landis House in Newport.

Carrie Jacobs felt that she got the most from classes that encouraged a lot of interaction.

“Aside from the instructors, my fellow students were a great source of information,” she said.

Jacobs also was a fan of the materials that the instructors provided, which gave her something to review other than her notes. The social aspect of the program was another highlight.

“I found a great deal of value in the post-class gatherings at Espresso Yourself in Newport,” she said. “Interacting with the instructors in a more casual way gave helpful insight into the writing profession beyond each specific topic.”

Classes didn’t just include the novel-writing process. They also covered the nuts and bolts of preparing and submitting a manuscript.

“My job in the workshop was to address the myriad of things a new writer will need,” said Laurie Edwards, an experienced writer, editor and publisher. “These include writing a query letter and a synopsis, then how to follow up with an agent or an editor.”

The New Class

Building on feedback from the 12-month session, author Cathy Jordan developed a curriculum for the next “A Novel Idea”program, which will begin in September.

This time, writers will be asked to bring a theme for their story to the first class.

“During that session, we can flesh out their premise, then talk about the need for believable characters, a plot that will hook and keep readers, as well as developing an interesting and believable setting,” Jordan said.

The next class will provide a detailed look at character building, the third will address how to develop a plot, and the fourth will focus on how to build a realistic setting. Throughout the rest of the year, workshops will be added on dialogue, setting the scene, story structure and many of the other building blocks needed for a publishable novel.

Parallel to the yearlong writing course, PCCA plans to offer themed, daylong writing workshops. The first workshop, on Aug. 15, features Jordan teaching “How to Write a Query Letter.” Myers follows on Oct. 17 with her popular workshop, “How to Write a Memoir.”

Future workshops will focus on such areas as fantasy novels, play-writing, writing for newspapers and magazines and short story writing.

Sandy Nork, a student from the first year, recommends “A Novel Idea” for the holistic experience, from the faculty to the content to the fellow students.

“The other class members were as diverse as I expected,” she said. “One of the benefits of this class was hearing how that diversity played into their work. I thought the instructors were excellent, and the topic breakdown made sense to me.”

IF YOU GO

Beginning Sept. 12, A Novel Ideawill be held on the second Saturday of each month from 9:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. with a break in January. Tuition for 12 sessions is $250 or $30 per session depending on space. A non-refundable deposit of $100 secures a space, with the remainder due by Aug. 28.

Beginning Aug. 15, PCCA’s one-day workshops will be held the third Saturday of every other month from 9:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuition of $75 includes lunch.

“A Novel Idea”and PCCA’s one-day focused workshops will take place at Landis House, 67 N. 4^th St., Newport.

For more information about “A Novel Idea” and PCCA’s one-day focused workshops, contact Jasmine Colbert at 717-567-7023 or visit www.perrycountyarts.org

Don Helin published his first thriller, “Thy Kingdom Come,” in 2009. His second, “Devil’s Den,” was selected as a finalist in the 2013 Indie Book Awards. His latest thriller, “Secret Assault,” won best suspense/thriller at the 2015 Indie Book Awards. Contact Don at www.donhelin.com.

Don’t Hate on Harrisburg: All cities have problems, and this one is coming back.

July 31, 2015 | by Tara Leo Auchey

It never ceases to shock me how unabashedly people bash the city of Harrisburg.

Yes, shock. I’m shocked at what people say.

People say this place is a pathetic slum that is ruined beyond repair. People say the residents of this city are degenerates. People call for boycott and rally vehemently for others to despise this capital city. The fever pitch too often sounds like a lynch mob ready to set fire to the pyre they’ve built at the base of this place.

The hate comes in many forms. Sometimes, it’s nasty comments left anonymously under bleeding headlines. Sometimes, it’s proudly owned and freely distributed on social media. Other times, it’s proclaimed face to face.

In those instances when someone unabashedly bashes Harrisburg to my face, it’s as if I deserve to hear it because I choose to live in the city.

It’s extremely unsettling.

When did this happen? When did the people of this region determine it was okay to spurn and spit on the capital city and kick it while it’s down?

Yeah, it’s down. No one’s denying that. But down doesn’t mean worthless.

There’s a lot of value here, not just in the history and establishment of this place but in its people.

Harrisburg is rich with potential. It’s a small city with big-city virtues like diversity, culture and options. These are all lying right beside its issues, problems and challenges.

The fact of the matter is the difficulties that Harrisburg faces are the same for American cities across the nation.

That’s what’s especially shocking to me when I hear the vitriol. It’s as if the people of this region have never read about municipal financial struggles or heard of urban revitalization.

It’s as if people around here haven’t read any of the numerous articles or seen the countless documentaries on the struggles of cities across the nation. Everywhere, cities are recalibrating and rebuilding.

If more people were aware how ordinary Harrisburg is in this regard, perhaps they would see the narrowness of their contempt.

Perhaps if more people realized how common it is for cities to make comebacks, more people would be supportive and engaged in Harrisburg’s renewal.

Harrisburg did it before. It was dismissed as hopeless. Then with persistent ambition and collaboration, it became something else. It became beautiful and special.

A hundred years ago, so much effort was directed at making Harrisburg better that so much about it became new and innovative—the roads, the parks, the streetlights, the transit, the architecture, the engineering. When it was shiny new, the public loved it and applauded Harrisburg as a 20^th-century model city.

Then, like many places, the shine dulled and the innovation became outdated. Like cities across the nation, people turned their backs on this urban core and saluted the suburbs as the next best thing.

However, that attitude is changing once again.

Just like before, more and more people want to live, work and play in cities. They want the urban vibe and the convenience. They want the concentrated options and the unique experiences that only a city can give.

Despite the hyperbolic, fallacious claims of the ignorant haters, Harrisburg’s got all that.

The sport of hating Harrisburg irresponsibly overlooks the incredible opportunity this entire region has to reconstruct a really cool city.

I think we have to ask ourselves: Why so much hate towards Harrisburg?

This entire region would do well to examine the source of this hate. When people who aren’t from around here visit or move in, they, too, are wholly shocked at the bashing of Harrisburg.

Therefore, it seems as if it’s something entrenched in this region. So, what is it?

It’s time to recognize some very real prejudices directed at this place and its people. When people point to Harrisburg and declare it ugly, despicable and vile, what’s the true source of their distaste?

Because, quite frankly, it just doesn’t make sense to hate one place and its people so much, especially a capital city along a river.

Tara Leo Auchey is the creator and editor of today’s the day, Harrisburg. www.todaysthedayhbg.com.

Student Scribes: Tie My Arm Behind My Back

July 31, 2015 | by Iain Sunday

The only interruption to the sweet sound of silence that Craig loved so much was the steady clicking of his keyboard.

His laptop occupied the center of the desk in the corner of the room, away from all distractions in the simple apartment: three rooms, all he needed. The main room, his bedroom, housed a twin-sized bed opposite the clean, sleek desk where he spent most of his time. One dresser completed the room, his clothes fitting into four drawers. The kitchen contained an oven, never warm, a mini-fridge and his microwave for heating late night take-out. His bathroom, if the closet-sized extension could be call “room,” crammed a sink, shower, and toilet, into the dollhouse-like space.

Tonight, like every other night, Craig worked, preparing for tomorrow’s meeting. His brain raced as fast as his fingers clicked. Spreadsheets, expansions, marketing, all of the business insider information he had gathered throughout his years with Benison and Sons. Eight years of long nights, missed parties and no girlfriends were all going to be worth it.

Mr. Benison’s eldest son, John, left the business one week ago, apparently too good for the oil pipe and accessories game. Mr. Benison could have called tomorrow’s meeting a luau, but everybody really knew it was an open audition for John’s job. And Craig felt certain that job had his name on it—eight years of ass-kissing and hard work made him the rightful heir to the vice president position.

Who else would be worthy—Cathy? If the vice president’s job consisted of staring out the door and eating a doughnut, then yes, Cathy deserved the job. Ken Benison posed the only real threat as the youngest of the Benison kids. If work ethic passed down genetically, Ken would be adopted. Benison and Son, Craig thought, should be called Benison and Craig.

He finished his last bullet point, picked out his black wool suit, and set his alarm to seven. As he got into bed, he couldn’t help but feel proud; years of hard work to be realized tomorrow. He closed his eyes, growing sleepy, recalling the late nights working in his studio, all the times he blew off his friends, the girls he didn’t call. Craig fell asleep, his smile turning to a frown.

The alarm broke up Craig’s sleep. His eyes opened and he struggled to clear his morning daze. At 7 a.m., Craig rolled over and motioned for the top of the clock, a simple action he performed every morning, except this morning.

Craig’s blurry vision cleared from the shock of his alarm blaring. Like a mule, he kicked his sheets off, exposing the reality of this new day: He had no arms. Terrified, he examined himself up and down. His shoulder, smooth, rounded off at the end, from there…nothing. He swung his body back and forth, side to side, praying his arms would somehow pop out. The beeping of the alarm clock seemed to bounce off every wall of the tiny apartment until Craig couldn’t take it anymore. He shot out of bed like a rocket, using only his legs and abdominals. Confused, terrified, pissed off, he slammed his head against the clock with the rage of a man who woke up with no arms. His eyes rolled behind his eyelids, as he fell to the ground along with the clock, out cold.

Craig’s eyes fluttered open, a swollen black eye preventing him from seeing clearly. Finally focused, his eyes met the clock on the floor next to him. 8:20 a.m. Forty minutes until his meeting started.

He rolled over to his door like a child down a hill. No way would he miss this meeting. Pressing his face to the door, he inched his way to his knees as he broke down the situation in his head. If he got ready in five minutes, caught a cab, he could get there in 20. He’d give himself 10 extra minutes, accounting for his current state. Only 30 minutes, and a whole extra 10 minutes to prepare at the office! Focusing all his weight on his knees, he jumped up and landed on his feet. He fancied himself an escaping James Bond, a severely handicapped James Bond.

Staring at his clothes hanging on his door, Craig quickly realized five minutes wasn’t going to be enough time to get ready. He nudged the suit with his head until it fell to the floor. Like a dog, he dug his head into the suit trying to wiggle his way in. Not working. The suit moved around his body like a worm. The clock read 8:30 a.m.

Craig examined his armless body, standing tall in his boxers. Screw it.

The wind rushed up Craig’s legs as he ran out of his building, his boxers billowing with each step. People stared, but he didn’t care. Men in suits dotted the busy street, raising their hands, hailing cabs. One by one, cabs stopped, the businessmen disappearing into them. Craig looked down at his semi-naked body. He twitched his shoulder blade, attempting to call a cab. It was like a mute person trying to scream. He looked down at where his arm would be…no watch. Idiot! He had to do something quick.

“Stop! Stop, please god stop!” Craig ran out in the middle of the street. Like a madman, he jumped up and down shouting, facing a cab speeding toward him like a bullet. It stopped in front of him. The driver ran out of the car and opened up the door.

“Quick. Quick get in! Buckle up.”

Buckle up? They stared at each other.

“Okay, let’s go to the hospital!” The cab driver pushed the pedal down.

“No, thank you though. Can you just take me to Benison and Sons please?”

“You have no arms! You need the hospital.”

Craig tuned out the cab driver’s speech, and looked at the cab’s clock. 8:55 a.m. He was cutting it close. Not only was he cutting it close, he forgot his briefcase, but he knew his presentation like the back of his hand, if he had one.

They pulled up to Benison and Sons. “Are you sure I can’t take you to the hospital?” the driver asked as he opened the door. “You have no arms!”

Craig scurried out the door. He wanted to pay him, but he didn’t have his wallet or pants or arms to pull out his wallet from his pants. He left the cab driver there, scratching his head.

As he ran into the office, he passed Cathy munching a doughnut.

“You are late,” she said.

“You are eating a doughnut!” Craig rushed to the elevator. Shit. He slammed his head against the elevator button, recessed into the panel.

“Cathy can you hit this button for me?”

“I’m eating a doughnut, my hands are tied,” Cathy said, powder sugar spitting out.

She’s mocking me. Doesn’t she know how serious it is to not have arms, out of the blue? How dare she make fun of it.

Craig rushed to the spiraling marble stairs, his brain running through all his material. Expansions, numbers, logistics, the job was his. He got to the door to find it closed. He rammed it with his entire body.

Ken sat next to his dad. “Craig!” Mr. Benison said, rising from his position at the head of the table. Craig fell through the wooden door, looking up at the large conference room.

“I’m sorry Mr. Benison. I know I’m late. I have my report ready though. I’ll show you I’m the right choice for the promotion!”

Mr. Benison laughed. “Craig, it’s called Benison and Son, not Benison and Craig.”

The whole conference room lit up with laughter. Craig stood, eyes spinning, eyeing all of them.

“Also, where are your arms? Where are your clothes?”

Craig walked out, head bowed in defeat. The cool morning’s chill went through his exposed body like an arm is supposed to go through its socket. He headed towards the hospital, not caring who stared at him. Spreadsheets, analytics, PowerPoints no longer monopolized his thoughts—only the fact that he had no arms. Then it really hit him: He had no arms. Craig sprinted through the streets, healthier than he had ever felt in his life.

Iain Sunday is a junior at CASA Charter School.

Exit: Stage Left: Theatre Harrisburg’s long-time executive director retires.

July 31, 2015 | by Lori M. Myers

Sam Kuba has probably clocked more stage time than anyone at Theatre Harrisburg in recent years.

As the lights dim and actors wait in the wings for the show’s start, he treads onto the boards with that comforting smile and easy-going manner. No script, just the one mantra he knows by heart: “Theater Harrisburg: Where community takes center stage. Now sit back, relax and enjoy the show.”

“While I can’t take credit for creating that slogan, I, with the guidance of our marketing committee, have tried to make it our primary message and central to the public’s perception of us,” Kuba said. “We are reinforcing the fact that the performers who appear on our stage and the many individuals who work backstage are all our local friends and neighbors. Our volunteers are the foundation of this organization.”

And Kuba is deep-down and without-a-doubt sincere about that. The end of this month marks his retirement as the theater’s executive director, a title he’s had from 1996 to 2002 and then again from 2007 until now. He’s seen a lot, heard a lot, changed a lot.

That Thrill

Ironically, Kuba, a Harrisburg native, was more into playing music when he grew up.

He attended Camp Curtin Junior High and then William Penn High School, where he was a member of the final graduating class in 1971. Private piano lessons expanded his artistic horizons, and he won some musical competitions along the way, but recognized that he didn’t have enough real musical talent to perform at the level he wished. Instead, he chose to get involved in the arts in various management capacities.

After working for the state awhile, he got hired as the Harrisburg Symphony Orchestra’s first general manager and later became director of the Department of General Services’ Public Events Office, where he oversaw the operations of the Forum and activities in and around the state Capitol rotunda. In 1989, Kuba became general manager of the Youngstown (Ohio) Symphony before taking a position at his alma mater, Susquehanna University. In 1996, he returned to central Pennsylvania as executive director of Harrisburg Community Theatre, later renamed Theatre Harrisburg.

“Interestingly enough, my very first exposure to live theatre of any kind was when a family friend gave us tickets to a production of ‘Kiss Me, Kate’ right here at Harrisburg Community Theatre in 1963,” Kuba recalled. “I was in fifth grade. I remember my mother calling some folks involved in theater to make sure it was an appropriate show for a 10-year-old.”

That first time proved magical for Kuba who had never experienced anything to compare to the sights and sounds of actors and orchestra, dance and spectacle.

“Even now, when the curtain goes up on one of our productions, I wonder whether there is someone in the audience who is attending live theater for the first time and having that same thrill,” he said.

After being executive director the first time around, Kuba admits he was burned out from the high stress of overseeing a theater and its personality types on a 24-7 basis. He’d had enough and needed a change, which he found when he began working for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. There, he found a cause and people doing exceptional and highly focused work on finding a cure for a horrific disease. He learned fundraising, but he found out something else—that a large segment of the community was not aware of the area’s cultural treasures.

“That was a real wake-up call for me,” Kuba said. “I believe being so closely involved with the arts for so long had created a bit of tunnel vision, and it’s a lesson I haven’t forgotten.”

Kuba just couldn’t stay away and repeated his stint as executive director at Theatre Harrisburg in 2007 until now. His time away prepared him both intellectually and emotionally, gave him a fresh perspective, a readiness for new challenges.

Enjoy the Show

During both tenures, Kuba was at the helm when Theatre Harrisburg transitioned to become the first resident company at Whitaker Center.

He was also there when the decision was made to present some of its season of shows back at its Hurlock Street home, now called the Jay & Nancy Krevsky Production Center, and there again when the theater decided to not replace the full-time artistic director position when Thomas Hostetter retired after 28 years. Since then, the theater has had guest directors, including Hostetter.

The upcoming 2015-16 season, Theatre Harrisburg’s 90th, will not only feel Kuba’s absence, but the title he’d held for so long will change from executive director to executive and artistic director, giving the theater its first formal artistic director since Hostetter’s retirement. As of this writing, that position had not yet been filled.

“I think it’s an excellent decision,” Kuba said. “I do know that many exceptionally qualified candidates nationwide have applied for the position, so I am both confident and optimistic about the future of Theatre Harrisburg.”

After August, Kuba’s first order of business will be to clean house—literally—where “three generations of stuff have accumulated,” he said. After that, perhaps some daytrips, riding the Friday afternoon train to hear the Philadelphia Orchestra and reading his many unread books.

Of course, he only lives a half-block away from Theatre Harrisburg, “where community takes center stage.” But now after all these years, it’s Kuba who can truly sit back, relax and enjoy the show.

For more information about Theatre Harrisburg, visit www.theatreharrisburg.com.

Student Scribes: Success Is the Best Revenge

July 31, 2015 | by Gabrielle Vincent

“I was always the nerdy kid. Braces, acne, glasses, the whole nine yards.”

A forlorn expression stretched across Barry’s face. He chatted with his therapist about the scarring high school memories that haunted his dreams every night.

“It’s hard to imagine you ever being nerdy,” the therapist smiled, checking out his physique and striking features.

Barry Evans was a real life manifestation of the nerd-who-grew-up-to-be-rich stereotype. He not only was rich and successful, but extremely handsome as well; a modern Adonis with a seven-figure income.

“Yeah, I can’t stop having these awful dreams. The one face that always haunts me is Margaret Chenowith’s. That bitch has been lingering in my dreams for years.”

Every therapy session with Barry went this way: 10 percent talking about emotion and the other 90 percent talking about Margaret, the captain of the cheer squad, and the love of Barry’s life. She had used that to her advantage. She and her friends had tormented him for liking her to the point where Barry contemplated suicide.

“Barry, you’re paying me $300 an hour for me to tell you something you already know. The root of your problems is this Margaret girl. If you can just get rid of her mentally, your mind will clear and your sleeping will improve.”

This conversation went back and forth until the hour was up, and Barry then made his way down the busy city street. He visited his favorite and trusted tailor to pick up his weekly order.

“Um sir… we no have your order,” the woman replied meekly behind the counter, her broken English barely heard over the timid clicks of the computer keyboard.

Barry’s fists clenched and a fire arose in his soul, but he maintained his cool and calm exterior.

“You must be mistaken. I paid extra for it to be ready by this time exactly and as God as my witness, my Givenchy custom suit is sitting back there in your shitty room next to a bunch of ragged, poorly sewn, Salvation Army garbage,” he said in a monotone voice, just barely above a whisper.

The girl shrank in fear.

“I’ll—go get m-manager.” She ran into the back room.

A woman walked out quickly and typed away at the computer on the cashier desk.

“Name please,” she didn’t take her eyes away from the screen.

“Barry Evans.”

The woman stopped, her mouth slightly ajar.

“Barry Evans? Did you by chance go to Crestwood High? Class of ’86?” she asked, now making direct eye contact with him.

“Yes. Listen, I don’t have time…” He analyzed her face closely. Familiar green eyes, strawberry blond hair, a worn face that seemed as though it once could’ve been considered beautiful in its youth before years of wear and tear got to it.

“M-Margaret? Margaret Chenowith?” Barry stuttered.

“Yes! My-oh-my you look different! I couldn’t even recognize you at first. How have you been… are you married?” she replied in a flirty tone, leaning slightly over the counter.

“No. You?” he said flatly, with just a hint of nervousness to his voice.

“Oh well, we should catch up a bit sometime.

“I would love to, but I have a gala to attend for work tonight. How about tomorrow night?” He faked all the confidence he could. He wrote down his number and address before she could even respond. “See you at eight.”

Barry freshened up and gazed in the mirror. I have a date with Margaret Chenowith.
He spritzed on some of his nicest and most expensive cologne and slicked his hair back. He sighed as he looked at his reflection. God you’re sexy.

The doorbell rang, and he sprinted to it only to find Margaret wearing way too much make-up and an unflatteringly small dress. The only way to describe such a horrendous sight would to think of a sausage link dipped into bright orange foundation.

“Gee Barry, I wasn’t expecting this.” She gawked as she entered his luxurious penthouse. She ran her fingertips along the expensive paintings lining the off-white walls. The smell of fresh linen floated through the air. Barry’s house was meticulous. She sat on his couch, adjusting herself on the fine leather and immediately pulled out a single cigarette from her now empty pack.

“Mind if I smoke?”

“Yes, actually, I do Margaret. One cigarette contains acetone, arsenic, methanol, cadmium. Second hand smoke can…”
“Wow Barry! Still a huge nerd, I see.” Margaret smirked and put the lone cigarette back in its cardboard home.

Barry forced a fake chuckle. “Chateau Margaux?” He offered, making his way to a dark wooden cabinet.

“Oh, I didn’t know you spoke French. What does that mean?” Margaret giggled.

Barry glared at her and took two Swarovski crystal wine glasses out of the cabinet. He shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a small pill out of one of the drawers, dropping it into the crystal before pouring the dark red wine. He carried the two wine glasses into the living room, making note of the tainted one.
Margaret picked up the glass and brought it to her lips. She paused before taking a sip. “Oh my, I shouldn’t be drinking on the first date; Momma always told me not to.” She winked and set the glass down.

Barry’s eye twitched a bit before he made a throaty and over exaggerated laugh.

“It’s pretty funny actually. I would’ve never given you a chance in high school but now look at you! What more could a girl want!” Margaret said, scooting closer to Barry and resting her hand on his thigh. She leaned into him until Barry sprung from his seat.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” He ran off into the bathroom with no other explanation.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror and splashed water on his face.

Get a hold of yourself.

He continued to stare at himself until he got an idea.

“If you can just get rid of her,” His therapist’s voice echoed in his head. “If you can just get rid of her.” “If you can just get rid of her.” “If you can just get rid of her.” “If you can just get rid of her.” “If you can just get rid of her.” “If you can just get rid of her.” “If you can just get rid of her.”

The voices mangled together and became louder and louder. His fingers trembled as he clutched the sides of the bathroom sink, his knuckles turning white from the strong grip.
Finally, something clicked. The voices stopped.
Barry adjusted his tie and re-slicked his hair.
“Took you long enough. You really know how to keep a girl waiting,” Margaret scoffed as Barry re-entered the living room.
“You know, Margaret, I’ve been waiting for the moment I could get a date with you.”

Barry sauntered into the kitchen.
“For years, I wished you would notice me.”
He went to a drawer.

“Just waiting for you to like me back.”

He grabbed a butcher knife from the drawer and hid it behind his back.
“And now I finally have you.”

He walked towards the couch.

“And you know what I realize?”

Barry crept up behind the couch.

“You aren’t worth it. You peaked in high school, and you live a miserable and mediocre life. I feel bad for you, but I’m just out of your league, Margaret. You’ve been the loser this whole time.”
Barry grabbed Margaret’s head swiftly and dragged the blade across her throat until her neck oozed with blood as red as the Chateau Margaux.

He followed his therapist’s advice: He got rid of her. After the mess was cleaned up, Barry had the best sleep of his life.

Gabrielle Vincent is a junior at CASA Charter School.

August News Digest

July 31, 2015 | by Lawrance Binda

Reed Arrested, Arraigned

Seven-term Harrisburg Mayor Stephen Reed was arrested and arraigned last month on 17 criminal charges ranging from bribery to running a criminal organization.

In all, the state charged Reed with 499 criminal counts covering actions related to the Harrisburg Parking Authority and the Harrisburg School District, as well as city government.

The counts cover alleged actions for many well-known Reed-era projects, such as the incinerator retrofit, the effort to acquire museum artifacts, the Senators baseball team and Harrisburg University.

Debt accumulated under Reed eventually resulted in a financial crisis that led the state to appoint a receiver for the city, as well as a failed attempt by City Council to declare municipal bankruptcy.

Dauphin County District Justice William C. Wenner set bail at $150,000 unsecured, meaning that Reed did not actually have to post bond. He ordered Reed to surrender his passport and restrict travel to the confines of Pennsylvania.

After the arraignment, Reed and his attorney, Henry E. Hockeimer Jr. of the Philadelphia-based firm Ballard Spahr, made statements defending the 28-year mayor. Reed blamed the criminal charges on “misperceptions and politics,” while Hockeimer said Reed “carried out his role [as mayor] with dedication and integrity.”

Afterwards, Pennsylvania Attorney General Kathleen Kane publicly released the grand jury presentment, which detailed the evidence behind the charges. The presentment alleged that thousands of “artifacts” and “curiosities” purchased with public funds were found in Reed’s home and storage areas; that Reed diverted money from city borrowings for other purposes; and that he used city employees for personal reasons.

Market Report Released

The Broad Street Market Task Force last month released a long-anticipated report on how to improve the condition, management and overall operations of the historic Midtown market.

Chairwoman Jackie Parker told Harrisburg City Council that the market’s two buildings are in decent condition, but that they will require “large capital investments” over the next decade.

More immediately, the report strongly recommended changing the market’s management structure.

Currently, the Broad Street Market Corp. operates the market, with the Historic Harrisburg Association as its sole shareholder. The task force advised separating from HHA and transitioning to a nonprofit entity, which then could better pursue grants and other funding.

“It would be a newly established nonprofit that is dedicated to full-time fundraising for the market,” said Harrisburg Mayor Eric Papenfuse, who announced the 10-member task force early last year as one of his first acts as mayor.

That transition could take the better part of two years, said Parker, who also is director of the city’s Department of Community and Economic Development.

Under the new structure, the market’s two buildings would remain owned by the city, but ongoing repair and maintenance would shift to the nonprofit, which would be overseen by a board of directors composed of volunteers from the community and market stakeholders.

The report recommended a number of other operational improvements, including free WiFi, greater recycling efforts, extended hours, greater diversity of food options, a marketing budget and better litter management.

Separately, Joshua Kesler last month was named president of the Broad Street Market Corp. board, replacing Jonathan Bowser, who resigned in June. Kesler is owner of The Millworks restaurant and art studios across the street from the market.

Campbell Pleads Guilty

Former Harrisburg Treasurer John Campbell last month pleaded guilty to charges that he stole money from several Harrisburg-based non-profit organizations.

Campbell said he was guilty of two counts of unlawful taking, a felony, and one count of Charitable Act fraud, a misdemeanor. He also promised to make full restitution for the thefts, which total almost $30,000.

Campbell was accused of taking money from several groups, including Historic Harrisburg Association, the Stonewall Democrats and Lighten Up Harrisburg. He was not charged with theft relating to his position as city treasurer.

If Campbell makes restitution by his Sept. 15 sentencing, Dauphin County Deputy District Attorney Joel Hogentogler said he would agree to a sentence of probation.

Anti-Blight Bills Passed

Harrisburg City Council last month approved two bills meant to battle the continuing problem of blight in the city.

The bills, passed unanimously, create a registry of foreclosed properties and increase fines on real estate investors and speculators for code violations.

Under the first ordinance, banks will pay a $200 annual fee for each property on the registry. The properties then must be kept properly maintained and secured.

Under the second, the city will levy higher fines on “corporate owners” of properties cited for code violations than it does on residential owners.

The higher fines are justified because it costs the city money to track down the investors and speculators, who often live out of the area and are difficult to identify and contact because they hide behind corporate entities, said Mayor Eric Papenfuse.

Food Truck Rules Updated

Food trucks in Harrisburg must locate at least 100 feet from brick-and-mortar restaurants under an ordinance passed last month by the City Council.

Council unanimously approved an ordinance update that requires food trucks and other mobile food vendors from setting up within 100 feet of existing restaurants, 15 feet from building entrances and 15 feet from a fire hydrant.

The ordinance update was urged by several downtown restaurants, which have complained that food trucks set up near them during high-volume times, such as during lunch and on weekend nights, and negatively affect their business. They also have complained about grease and litter.

The mobile vendors also must cease selling by 2:30 a.m. and move from the area by 2:45 a.m.

The ordinance does not apply to food trucks that congregate during special events, such as the monthly Food Truck Feast held during 3^rd in the Burg.

HUD Funds Distributed

Harrisburg last month finalized the recipients of its annual dispersal of federal housing money.

The city received $3.1 million from three U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development programs, most through HUD’s Community Development Block Grant program.

The city’s housing rehabilitation program received $451,806, the largest allocation, and the city police department received $250,000, which it plans to use to boost manpower in Harrisburg’s most troubled neighborhoods. The city’s demolition program got $111,114.

Other recipients included:
Fair Housing Council, $130,000
Tri County HDC, $100,000
Camp Curtin YMCA, $80,000
Christian Recovery Aftercare Ministry, $75,000
Habitat for Humanity, $70,000
Boys & Girls Club of Harrisburg, $60,000
Latino Hispanic American Community Center, $59,982
Heinz-Menaker Senior Center, $50,000
Mid Penn Legal Services, $30,000
Christian Love Ministries, $29,000
Codes Enforcement, $10,000

The city’s Emergency Solutions Grant Program received $164,603, and the Homeowner Improvement Program got $295,765.

More than $1 million will not go directly to recipients. Grant administration received $482,624, while debt service ate up $638,000. The latter item covers this year’s installment of repayment of a $3.8 million federal loan that Harrisburg backed for the failed (since revived) Capitol View Commerce Center.

Recovery Officer Appointed

Audrey Utley was appointed last month as the new chief recovery officer for the Harrisburg School District.

State Board of Education Secretary Pedro Rivera appointed Utley after a search committee recommended her. She recently retired as superintendent of the Steelton-Highspire school district and served a short, three-month stint as acting superintendent of the Harrisburg district in 2010.

Utley will continue the effort of trying to improve the financial and academic condition of the Harrisburg district, an effort begun by Utley’s predecessor, Gene Veno, who served in the post about two years before resigning in June.

Under Veno’s recovery plan, the district’s precarious financial situation stabilized, but the academic performance deteriorated further, according to state performance measures released last year.

2 Projects Get Green Light

More apartments are coming to Harrisburg, as the City Council last month approved land development plans for two substantial projects.

First, council unanimously approved Harristown Enterprise’s plan to convert 21,000 square feet of office space and another 6,000 square feet of loft space to six two-bedroom and 16 one-bedroom apartments above a stretch of shops along N. 3^rd and Market streets in Strawberry Square.

If all goes according to plan, work on the project would begin this fall with completion slated for spring 2016, said Brad Jones, president and CEO of Harristown Enterprises, which owns Strawberry Square.

Council then OK’d a plan by WCI Partners to transform the former Harrisburg Moose Lodge Temple at N. 3^rd and Boas streets into 33 one-bedroom apartments, with commercial space on the ground floor. WCI also plans to renovate three boarded-up townhouses on the property.

WCI President Dave Butcher said the project should begin in early autumn with completion expected next summer.

Transit Consolidation Urged

A state official last month urged the Harrisburg City Council to consider regional consolidation of mass transit services.

Area governments could save an estimated $2.3 million a year, mostly through reduced administrative staff, if they chose to consolidate into a single entity, said Toby Fauver, deputy secretary for multimodal transportation for the state Department of Transportation.

Fauver cited the potential savings as he briefed council on Phase 2 of the South-Central Regional Transit Consolidation Study, which recommends consolidation for most transit systems in south-central Pennsylvania.

If they decide to merge transit operations, the participating counties and municipalities would need to appoint representatives to a transition board that would decide such issues as structure, governance and operations. The consolidation would cost about $4.7 million to achieve, but the state would absorb that cost, Fauver said.

Changing Hands

Boas St., 106: K. Miller to A. Nascone, $130,000

Boas St., 314: B. Ostella to W. James, $99,900

Briggs St., 241: M. Simmons to C. Jeffers, $113,500

Calder St., 504: P. Maruszewski to H. Nguyen, $109,900

Catherine St., 1620: R. & M. Caplan to M. & V. Keyes, $31,000

Chestnut St., 2137: P. Bowman to G. Bierbaum & W. Alford, $184,900

Cumberland St., 117: J. & C. Kuntz to Cardinal Investments LLC, $81,900

Derry St., 2422: N. Foose to D. Brently, $61,900

Green St., 1910: WCI Partners LP to C. Reinhold & K. Hurst, $193,900

Green St., 3011: R. Snyder to M. Palermo Jr., $180,000

Herr St., 415: A. Antoun to J. Foreman, $54,900

Herr St., 1424: M. & A. Foreman to Bethesda Mission of Harrisburg, $275,00

Kelker St., 235: S. Woomer to D. Robinson & J. Vu, $99,900

Kensington St., 2408: PA Deals LLC to F. Frattarole, $63,500

Manada St., 1905: PA Deals LLC to G. & J. Modi, $96,000

North St., 1718; 2418 Jefferson St.; 2228 N. 4^th St.; 350 Harris St.; 352 Harris St.; 1813 Boas St. & 1833 Forster St.: R. Shokes Jr. & Shokes Enterprises to JDP 2014 LP, $497,000

N. 2^nd St., 405, Unit 2 & Unit 4: Belco Community Credit Union to Vinculum Inc., $410,000

N. 2^nd St., 1100: L. & A. Morato to S. & J. Toole, $45,000

N. 2^nd St., 2537: J. & M. McCarthy to N. Banting, $72,100

N. 2^nd St., 2821: D. & M. Anderson to J. & L. Witmer, $96,000

N. 2^nd St., 2904: J. Reitz & Webster Bank NA to F. & B. Pinto, $285,750

N. 2^nd St., 2926: J. & Y. Garner to M. & S. Bennington, $282,000

N. 2^nd St., 3118: A. Barlup to P. & M. Rowan, $152,000

N. 3^rd St., 1720: F. Phillipy to A. & A. Campoverde, $90,000

N. 4^th St., 1625: GWD Capitol Heights LP to J. Wolfe & K. Hunt, $103,300

N. Front St., 1525, Unit 103: K. Blum to A. McKenna, $214,900

N. Front St., 2401: E. & D. Black to J.A. Hartzler, $215,000

N. Front St., 2501: Harrisburg Builders Exchange to Poole Anderson Construction LLC, $415,000

Rudy Rd., 2401: C. Butler to B. Royster, $119,900

S. 18^th St., 946: W. & D. Shalan to Darna Investments LLC, $140,000

S. 21^st St., 971: Lee Estates LLC to T. Le, $100,000

S. 29^th St., 520: E. Cohen & Goodrich Assoc. to Goodrich Assoc., $125,000

S. Front St., 607: S. Farr to T. Edinger, $130,000

S. Front St., 711: Z. & J. Goodling to P. Moore, $180,000

State St., 1801: MAT Properties Inc. to Transcend Church, $99,000

Taylor Blvd., 52: PA Deals LLC to V. & S. Vdov, $56,900

Woodlawn St., 2359: Meier Norton FLP to Meier Supply Co., $406,800

Wyeth St., 1404: A. Weikert to F. Frattarole, $103,900

Wyeth St., 1412: PA Deals LLC to F. Frattarole, $103,900

Harrisburg property sales for June 2015, greater than $30,000. Source: Dauphin County. Data is assumed to be accurate.

Student Scribes: “Tar-an-gi-o-li-o.”

July 31, 2015 | by Kelsee Baker

Wisps of cherry liqueur and sweet cream veil the kitchen, the curtains fluttering in the breeze. Mama sets the pan of cherry tarangiolo on the windowsill to cool. The decaying window pane frames the row of apartments across from ours. She crosses the room to dust off the record player.

“Miles?” Saxophone melodies crawl from the speakers and she dances—twisting and turning her body like the curtains waving to us at the window.

“Your turn.” She helps me from my wheelchair, cradling me, and kisses me on the cheek; sweet as tarangiolio.

“My beautiful boy.”

We sway together until the record skips and the timer dings, signaling the room temperature of our baked treats. Mama helps me back into my chair, and I wheel myself into the kitchen. Spooning the delight into teacups, I help top the dessert with sweet cream. I raise a bite of the tarangiolio, my indulgence, wanting to savor the taste of my favorite confection, but Mama slaps the spoon away.

“No. You haven’t said your prayers yet.”

She puts a hand on the back of my head and forces it down to the table for reflection. I clasp my hands together, reciting the words Mama taught me:

“O Mighty Lord Satan, by whom all things are set free, I cast myself utterly into your arms and place myself under your all powerful protection. Comfort me and deliver me from all the qualms and snares of those who wish to harm me, both seen and unseen. This I ask in your name. Ave Satanas!”

“Good boy. Now eat. When you’re finished, take the scraps to the others.”

Mama rises from the table, crossing the room once again to lock herself into her study. Reversing my chair into the room, I wheel myself up to her door. Her noontime prayers echo from the cracks, snaking along the wood like serpents inked on the pages of The Satanic Bible.

“And I pray to you, O Satan,” a whisper in her solitude, “for the lame. For he will know not of strength, but of ill-acceptance and unfavorable complacency.”

My wheels creak on the oak floorboards, melding into her murmurs. I set the leftover tarangiolio and flashlight on my lap and curve around to the dumbwaiter facing the opposite wall of the kitchen. Steadying the pan on the lift, I pull myself up and into the concave space. I tug at the rope dangling above, take a deep breath and hold it.

Diving into the recesses of the house, I exhale when I reach the bottom only to choke on the rank stench of excrement and blood. Voices whisper from a dark corner. I grab the pan and pitch it into the darkness. The whispers cease. Frightened, I struggle to palm the flickering flashlight. One footstep scrapes again the cement floor…then another.

I shine the light into one corner. Empty. The footsteps creep closer. My heart pounds, and before I can reveal what the opposing corner is hiding, a hot breath touches my skin. The beam of my flashlight illuminates bruised legs, soiled undergarments and a pentagram carved in an emaciated chest. The horrid face, caked with blood, tilts its head in ghoulish curiosity.

Before I can scramble back into the dumbwaiter, strong arms take hold of me, and I’m forced from my wheelchair up against a wall. One of the figures steps forward, and I realize his mouth has been sewn shut. I whimper, fearful of these strange creatures. It raises a finger to its stitched mouth, trying to assure me there is no reason to be afraid, but the gesture sends me into inconsolable sobs.

Oh Satan, please take me and carry me away from these people.

I black out.

Upon awakening, I lie on the floor encircled by the figure’s demonic face, the room lit only by candles placed at five points around me. A pentagram. I try to sit up, but my chest heaves backward. Bound, senseless, I am trapped.

I force my head to the side only to make eye contact with Mama, cloaked in black and holding her Satanic bible. She chants, and I recognize Latin, the dead language.

“Mama!” I shout. “Mama!”

No response.

“Mama, do you hear me? Is this body not fit for Satan? Is this why you’re choosing to do this?”

She closes the bible, producing a knife from her waist pocket.

“Mama, do you love me?”

“The bodily vessel you reside in must surrender to Satan. The first domain is conquered, and satanic happiness will follow you to the gates of his kingdom in fire.”

Mama stands above me and raises the knife.

“No, Mama! I am your boy. You love me, don’t you? You love Satan, but you love me, and I love you. Please, listen!”

“Ave Satanas!” She plunges the knife down to my weak frame. An arm reaches out, grasping her hand inches above my chest. The scarred figure who acknowledged me before wrestles the knife from Mama.

“No! You cannot interfere with the work of Sa—” she begins, but the figure throws Mama to the ground. As she attempts to scream, she is silenced by a swift slice to the throat.

The figure turns to me. I think I may succumb to the same fate, but it instead saws the black stitches, freeing its mouth.

“Come!” It issues to the others. Two by two, they ride up the shaft and into the light.

Mama does not stir.

I do not want to close my eyes for fear that void of death that awaits me will be a painful and lonely one. There are no prayers to be whispered. Tears, the closest I can come to reconciliation, saturate my face. The taste of my comfort food fades into my drying mouth.

“Tar-an-gi-o-li-o,” I say to myself and gaze into the textures of the rope bindings. No longer am I free, but alone. Deathly alone.

Kelsee Baker is a senior at CASA Charter School.

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