Coming Soon: “Saving Harrisburg”

July 24, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

Imagine, for a moment, if Kevin Costner had made an Oscar acceptance speech before an actual movie was released. Then further imagine that the movie was “Waterworld.”

That’s rather what today felt like, as Mayor Linda Thompson thanked everyone who had worked with her on the years-long production of “Saving Harrisburg.”

Thompson thanked receiver William Lynch, Gov. Tom Corbett, state lawmakers, DCED, even her old frenemies on City Council. But, mostly, she thanked herself and her own staff for resisting municipal bankruptcy and embracing both the Act 47 process and the state receivership.

“Harrisburg will be a model for the world,” she said. “This will be my legacy.”

And, in the only sideways reference to former leading man Steve Reed, she added, “I’m amazed we were able to get this done given what we inherited.”

Done?

Two hours earlier, receiver William Lynch had told a disappointed crowd at the bi-monthly meeting of the recovery advisory board that nothing was actually done. Negotiations were continuing to sell the incinerator, lease the parking garages, cram down the debt and conclude labor negotiations. In other words, the cameras were still rolling, with nothing yet ready for public viewing.

The audience in the room clearly was let down. Council chambers were packed, as word had leaked that something big was up. Several TV news people tweeted that receiver Lynch was going to announce a sale of the incinerator — and perhaps even a comprehensive agreement to free Harrisburg from more than half-a-billion bucks in debt.

But it ended up like a hyped summer blockbuster that goes nowhere.

Or almost nowhere.

Lynch — and then Thompson at her follow-up press conference — said that deals were near completion, so we should expect a solution to emerge within the next month or so, information that most people in the room already knew. City Council would begin to tackle enabling legislation in August, followed by consideration by the Commonwealth Court.

“We believe a deal is imminent,” said Lynch.

“We are here to announce the turning point. The deal is effectively imminent,” Thompson later said.

So, in this way, it was more like a preview. We got a taste of a not-yet-quite-done, can’t-yet-reveal, still-in-post-production project that would raise enough money to pay off creditors and leave Harrisburg on solid financial footing. It was just enough to leave us wanting more.

And would there be a sequel?

Thompson said that the solution would provide for a balanced budget through 2016. After that, it was up to her successor. Asked what the next mayor should do, she responded:

“Accept the gift we’ve given you.”

-Fin-

Mayors, Guns & Money

July 23, 2013 | by Paul Barker

Arlan Ettinger, president of Guernsey’s, announcing the final auction figures on Tuesday afternoon at City Hall.

In an old farmhouse outside Elkhorn, Wisconsin, on the other side of a wooden gate framed by teepees and covered wagons, is a dinner theater and museum known as Watson’s Wild West.

“We’re supposedly one of a kind,” said Doug Watson, who founded the museum with his wife in 1989, after taking a college business course. “There’s general stores, and there’s Wild West museums, but we’re the only one that’s both.”

Watson furnished the museum with his personal collection, a hoard of saddles, tin cans, wheels, print advertisements and other artifacts that he amassed over a period of 34 years. “You see, when I started collecting, I collected the real stuff,” he said. “It was kind of readily available back then, but it’s harder to find now. You gotta work at it.”

The website for Watson’s Wild West, with two high-resolution panoramic shots and a YouTube video montage, displays something like what former Harrisburg Mayor Stephen Reed must have been picturing when—largely in secret, and with public money—he steadily stockpiled Western artifacts in the hopes of opening a museum here.

There are elk heads and bison heads, pistols and rifles, copper pots and tea kettles, spoked wooden wheels. General admission is five dollars for adults and three dollars for children. Dinner packages, with actors portraying characters like Annie Oakley and Mark Twain, help Watson make good on one of his museum’s mottoes: “You don’t have to go to South Dakota to enjoy the Old West.”

For the foreseeable future, however, you will still have to go at least as far as Wisconsin. This afternoon in City Hall, Mayor Linda Thompson, along with Arlan Ettinger, president of Guernsey’s, the auction house that managed the seven-day sale on City Island, closed the grim chapter in Harrisburg history that was Reed’s Wild West fantasy.

In an auction that Ettinger described as “one of the largest auctions of anything ever,” with nearly 3,700 lots and over 10,000 registered bidders, the city netted $2,577,911, out of a total sale of $3,143,795. (The difference, $565,884, or 18%, is what Guernsey will make on commission.)

Thompson announced that Harrisburg’s take would allow the city to complete payments on an outstanding loan from 2007, which Reed had taken to help cover a $14 million budget deficit, using the artifacts as collateral.

“The city of Harrisburg does pay its debts,” Thompson said. She urged residents to think of the auction as marking a transition into a period of “post-recovery.”

“Symbolically, this auction clears the air of a lot of old history,” she added.

In addition to “two or three” lots that went unsold, Ettinger said, there remain hundreds of items, mostly paper ephemera, that the city intends to auction in New York in September. Excluding the expected income from their sale, the city’s gains from last week’s auction, when combined with two earlier sales of objects from the collection, is just over $4.1 million—about half of the $8.3 million Reed is estimated to have spent on the objects in the first place.

Describing a scene of “massive enthusiasm,” however, with bidders from every state and over 40 countries, Ettinger suggested the auction could only be viewed in a positive light. “There’s nothing to be unhappy about, nothing to be embarrassed about, only something to be proud of,” he said.

When asked to assess the overall quality of the collection, Ettinger chose his words carefully. “There was treasure, and I won’t say ‘trash’—I’ll say ‘decorative objects.’” He described Reed’s collecting style as “machine-gun acquisition.”

“If you shoot enough bullets, you’re gonna hit some targets and miss others,” he said.

Perhaps, as with many outcomes in the Old West, the fate of Reed’s collection really does come down to shooting styles.

“The thing is not to buy just anything, but things that fit your theme,” Doug Watson said. But despite his history of avid collecting, when it came to the Reed collection, Watson passed. On Monday night, he attended a party where “everyone was talking about” Harrisburg’s auction. “They said to me, ‘We’re wondering why you didn’t go!’ But I already have pretty much everything I need.”

Auction Analyst 2: The Final Tally

July 23, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

Fifty cents on the dollar.

That was Harrisburg’s return on investment after the weeklong Wild West auction on City Island, according to Guernsey’s auction house.

Estimated spend by former Mayor Steve Reed: $8.3 million. Total return to Harrisburg: $4.17 million (including two previous auction rounds).

Sigh.

And even that money isn’t going to fix our broken city or get a few more cops on the streets. No, it’s going to pay off a loan that Reed took out to fill a hole in the city’s budget back in 2006.

But that’s the way Reed operated — borrow today with no mind for tomorrow. And, when tomorrow comes, borrow more.

In part, that’s why I have such a problem understanding those who still defend Reed’s mayoralty. Yes, I understand that, today, Harrisburg seems better off than 30 years ago, when he first became mayor. However, the ends don’t justify the means — and the means were not just ugly, but, in many ways, arrogantly self-destructive.

The failures of Steve Reed are long and deep. Having come up with some idea, he seemed unable to let it go, even after it was questioned by the public, rejected by City Council or began turning sour. He was chastened many times, even by the court, for ignoring legislative and legal processes, but simply went right back to it, embracing dubious and self-serving interpretations of the law and funneling money through his favorite sandbox, the Harrisburg Authority.

This isn’t effective government. This is government run amok.

There are reasons there are checks and balances and restraints on power in this country. It’s so that one man cannot unilaterally impose his will. That’s called arbitrary power, and that’s what Steve Reed practiced.

You want to know how millions were squandered in an effort to build a hydroelectric dam on the Susquehanna? How millions more were lost in loans to unproven and unworthy businesses? How an untested, ultimately failed, technology was chosen to retrofit the incinerator? How 10,000 Wild West artifacts ended up in a warehouse? How Harrisburg got into the investment banking business?

These ideas all sprung from the mind of Stephen Reed.

Reed also was the master of not facing up to realities. According to former receiver David Unkovic, Reed overspent for two decades, hiding the growing deficits through gimmicks and trickery. So, he overcharged suburban utility customers for water and sewer service, bled the Harrisburg Authority dry, borrowed money in excess of what was needed for a project, originated bond deals so he could sweep up the guarantee fees and, when all this failed, borrowed heavily against city assets. In the end, he was borrowing money just to pay off past borrowings.

Is that a successful mayoralty? I daresay that, with access to a fraction of these funds, most of us would have made much wiser, more responsible choices than thinking what Harrisburg most needed was a Wild West museum. Seriously, would anyone other than Reed have come up with this idea?

Indeed, Reed’s defenders seem to believe that only this great man could have saved Harrisburg. They ignore the reality that, like in Harrisburg, restaurants and nightlife have blossomed in cities throughout the country over the past three decades, while porn theaters and street-level prostitution have virtually disappeared from sight.

As I’ve written before, when you serve as mayor for 28 years and leave your city effectively bankrupt, you have failed. When you squander money on stuffed bison, African masks and a failed garbage-burner, your failure is almost cartoonish, a tragic-comedy that the residents of Harrisburg live with and pay for still.

Auction Analyst: Was Reed’s Vision Crazy?

July 19, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

Sane or insane?

Such has been the debate around Harrisburg this week during the lengthy auction of some 8,000 Wild West artifacts on City Island.

Was former Mayor Steve Reed’s decade-long shopping spree and plan to build a museum of the old West in central Pennsylvania a legitimate economic development initiative? Or was it, well, crazy?

In my mind, there’s no question at all.

Insane. Really insane.

Touring the rafter-packed D&D Warehouse during the preview, all I could think about was how much effort went into accumulating this mass of stuff. People’s workdays, travel, expenses — all done apparently on the public time and dime. Then there’s the actual cost of the items. We’re told Reed spent about $8.3 million on them, but, without a thorough audit, we’ll never know for sure. It could have been much more.

As I snooped around, the overall impression I got was Reed as a latter-day Citizen Kane, whose obsessive accumulation of objects seemed to fill some type of hole in his psyche from his childhood. Heck, there was even a child’s sled (though it didn’t say “Rosebud”). A key difference was that Kane, if nothing else, spent his own money, not public funds he funneled through a utility authority.

But, evidently, other people disagree with me.

One of those people gave me a ride back to the office during one of my trips to the auction this week. He said it was “too bad” that Reed never got his Wild West museum, that it could have been a “great attraction” for Harrisburg. I thought, “Is he kidding me?” He was not.

The battle also has been waged on Twitter and even among people receiving a paycheck from the Patriot-News (or Pennlive or PA Media Group or Advance Digital or wherever). A couple days ago, reporter Don Gilliland pulled no punches, calling Reed a “huckster” and his artifacts “worthless crap.” Today, columnist Nancy Eshelman defended Reed as a guy who helped save Harrisburg from hookers, porn theaters and hot dog-based cuisine.

In fact, after a week’s worth of “Fair warning — Sold!” the debate seems to have shifted from a discussion of a Wild West museum in Harrisburg (insane vs. not insane) to one of Reed’s mayoralty (good vs. horrible).

Let’s face it: Reed would never have served for 28 years without some accomplishments, some reason for people to repeatedly vote for him. Eshelman cites the Civil War Museum, the Fire Museum, hotels and “the glitz that is 2nd Street” among his achievements.

Well, the Fire and Civil War museums are dubious accomplishments, as both are wonderful facilities that sit largely empty all day, out of sight and unintegrated with the larger city. Most people who live in Harrisburg don’t seem to know where the Fire Museum is, and many have never visited the beautifully designed Civil War Museum at all.

As for hotels and 2nd Street — that’s a tougher call. Reed certainly played a role in the construction of the city’s two convention-grade hotels. And with them came parking garages and parking garages and parking garages, which destroyed much of the historic architectural heritage of downtown, one of the things that now attracts people into cities.

Certainly, Reed liked to take credit for “Restaurant Row” on 2nd Street, but those restaurants didn’t appear until far into his mayoralty. Personally, I give the credit to pioneering restaurateurs like Steve Weinstock and Tom Scott, who took great financial risks to open downtown, seeding the ground for others to follow. Downtown also benefitted from a national movement back to cities that began during the 1990s. Reed was first elected during the absolute low-point of the American city (early 1980s), then was able to stick around long enough to see the pendulum swing back up.

But I judge Reed’s mayoralty not so much by Eshelman’s examples, which I view as a mixed bag. I judge his mayoralty on this: Harrisburg is effectively bankrupt. Harrisburg is the only city ever to go into state receivership in Pennsylvania and, without it, already would have been one of the few American cities ever to enter municipal bankruptcy.

When you serve 28 years as mayor and, after all that time, leave behind a financial catastrophe, you have failed. When you serve 28 years as mayor, leave behind a financial catastrophe and have engaged in no end of financial chicanery, you have failed and probably should be judged by a jury of your peers.

And no museums or art centers or a decent slice of pizza can change that.

Sold! My Day at the Harrisburg Auction

July 15, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

I had my heart set on the spittoon.

I had no practical use for it, being neither a chewer nor a spitter. But it was the one item at the artifact auction that actually pertained to Harrisburg, manufactured by the city’s own F.H. Cowden Co. sometime in the late 19^th century. That was why I wanted it.

Estimated sales price: $40 to $50.

I hoped the small, stoneware vessel would get lost amongst the 5,500 or so other lots up for grabs at the (mostly) Wild West auction held today on City Island. Apothecary bottles, Indian-style rugs, butter churns, sheriff’s medals of dubious provenance.

A spittoon manufactured in Harrisburg, Pa.? Who’d want that?

I arrived just as a guy with Guernsey’s auction house was laying down the ground rules for in-person bidding. Speaking above the roar of several industrial-strength fans, he explained that there were no reserve prices, so the highest bid would win the item, regardless of its perceived value.

I was in.

I took some pictures, claimed bidder ticket #112 and had a seat.

The crowd was sparse, maybe 50 or 60, but I wasn’t certain what to make of that. Guernsey’s said that more than 7,000 people had registered for the auction, so most of the action was going to come from Internet bidders. And, in fact, a long table occupied the entire right side of the pavilion, where Guernsey’s staff hovered over a line of computers to track and call out Internet bids.

A bit after 10 o’clock, the auctioneer took her position behind the microphone and announced the first item: an antique wooden yarn winder. Estimated pre-auction value: $60 to $100.

A picture of the item flashed on a screen beside her, at the front of the auction area. It looked like a long wooden stick with handles on either end, but the projected image was vague in the daylight and difficult to see clearly.

“$100,” the hopeful auctioneer called out.

Nothing.

“$75. $50,” she said.

Still nothing. She paused. The bidding was going the wrong way.

Then some hope. A staff member manning one of the laptop computers had an interested bidder.

“$25!” he yelled out.

“$25,” repeated the auctioneer.

“Thirty, thirty,” she said, trying to juice the crowd into bidding more. “Thirty, anywhere?”

Faces looked up blankly, and no bidding numbers were raised.

“I have $25,” she said, drawing out the number. “Fair warning . . . “

“Sold! To the Internet bidder! $25!”

And so started the long-awaited Harrisburg artifact auction, with a sale of an item at less than half the estimated sales price.

Much of the rest of the morning would proceed in a similar way. There were a few bright spots, such as the beautiful National brass cash register, which an Internet bidder paid $600 for (estimate: $300 to $500).

But most of the items ended up more like the $30 paid for “primitive farm implements” (estimate: $40 to $50); the $80 paid for the “large wooden ox yoke” (estimate: $100 to $200); and the $60 paid for the “Oliver Standard Visible (Type) Writer No. 9” (estimate: $300 to $400).

Other items fetched more or less their pre-auction estimates, while a bunch received no bids at all and were passed over.

I cooled my heels, waiting for my spittoon to come up. As it neared, I grabbed the cardboard number from my bag and nervously got ready to shout out a bid.

“Number 1086: F.H. Cowden Harrisburg Spittoon,” said the auctioneer, and the vague image of the stoneware vessel appeared on the screen. I leaned forward to try to see it more clearly.

“$50,” called out one of the guys following the Internet bidding, before I could say a word.

$50? The spittoon already was selling for the top of the estimated range. Oh no.

“$75. $100. $125,” cried the auctioneer, happy she finally had an item selling over predicted value.

Clearly, a few other locals were jumping on the only Harrisburg-related item in the auction, and I was being outbid.

“$150? Do I hear $150?” said the suddenly hopeful auctioneer.

“I have $125,” she said. “Fair warning . . .”

“And sold! To the Internet bidder! $125.”

Rats!

Sure, I had lost out, but at least hadn’t gotten suckered into paying too much for it. Researching Cowden pottery before the auction, I learned there’s a ton for sale on eBay for less than $100, which was my upper limit for the piece.

I stuck around long enough to bid on another lot I had spied at the auction preview the day before in a warehouse at the incinerator complex. My girlfriend liked a set of 10 old-timey glass lamp shades, said they’d look nice in a house we’re having renovated in Olde Uptown.

Estimated value: $100 to $150. I paid $40.

As I made my way back across the Walnut Street Bridge (lights out again) and over to the adjoining plaza (badly damaged planter) and back to the office through the streets of Harrisburg (potholes, no striping), I hoped that my money would be spent well. Money that, years ago, should have gone to fixing Harrisburg.

Note: A longer version of this story will appear in our August issue.

What Bugs My Burg: Quarters Are Still King

July 10, 2013 | by Dan Webster

While most days I walk to work from my apartment along Front Street, occasionally I will need my car for a duty at TheBurg—be it delivering newspapers, conducting an interview off-site, or I’ll need to leave the bounds of the city after a good day’s work. This requires me to scrounge up every last quarter in my apartment, in my car’s cup holders and cushions and my plastic bag piggy bank full of every coin imaginable.

In Asbury Park, N.J., this past weekend, my hunt was delightfully cut short by a dual credit card/coin parking meter system. A simple touchscreen took me through the process, charging me a dollar per hour. I loaded my parking allowance with three hours, a solid amount of time to peruse the beach and its retail district. In Harrisburg, that would have required $4.50 or 18 quarters, a sufficient bump in price and hassle.

Back home, after delivering a fresh batch of “Burgs” to our distribution locations today, I pulled into a spot on State Street. Much to my surprise, I saw a retirement party for the old pay stations, marked by a bag over top of them, and new, gleaming ones next to them. Finally, I thought, a move toward the 21^st century. As I approached the new money-eating totem, I saw what appeared to be a credit card slot, but alas, a written notice at the bottom: “Meter Accepts Quarters and Cashkeys Only.”

“What the heck is a cash key?” I thought to myself.

No quarters on my person, I returned to the office to investigate this newfangled key system, hoping it was innovative and perhaps useful. Nope.

A cash key is like a food card at universities or colleges. You mail in a form with a deposit of $15, plus the dollar amount you personally allot, on said key. Each time you pull into the space, you insert the key and go on your “merry” way. Except, in reality, there’s lots of problems with this turnkey system.

One, it’s entirely too bureaucratic. You have to fill out an order form and then mail it to the Harrisburg Parking Authority (back to them later). JC Penney catalogs were very successful until the Internet. Get it?

Two, it’s not helpful for the tourist or occasional daily commuter. Imagine carrying around a day’s worth of quarters. Maybe you’ve done it.

Lastly, it’s very parochial, creating a town-centric mentality that is and will continue plaguing our reputation in the area. By not providing an efficient and modern parking system, you risk moderately peeving off the general public, especially if quarters aren’t available, and they end up with a parking ticket. It’s the little things that add up, like say, potholes.

According to the Huffington Post’s article from June 7, 2012, “plastic card purchases comprised 66 percent of all in-person sales.” This is probably not a shocking figure, given that we are in a world where tangible money is fast becoming a non-entity.

As I researched these futurist “credit-card swiping creations,” it seems as though many municipalities and cities are in the process of installing or testing out these machines for wholesale replacement. Cities like Los Angeles have installed 38,000 meters, whereas smaller municipalities like Beaufort and Hilton Head, S.C., are trying them out for size. A glut of others followed this initial research: Durango, Colo., Dayton, Ohio, Sacramento, Calif., Hoboken, N.J., have all committed or installed smart meters, and our very own neighbor, York, Pa., is putting together a proposal for the new systems.

I called HPA, but the person charged with overseeing this changeover from the old to the well, old, was on vacation. What I hope is that I’m wrong, and these new machines will have an easy retrofit for credit cards.

But, for now, quarters are still king in the city of Harrisburg, people.

Paved Paradise IV: The Final Judgment

July 5, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

Through the years of covering the Harrisburg Zoning Hearing Board, I’ve learned two important things.

Lesson one: Come prepared. Board members are veterans and, in fact, may be the most competent in their jobs of any group of city officials. They’ve seen it all and heard it all. They have no patience for b.s., and you’re not going to get anything by them.

Lesson two: If they want to see a project succeed, they’ll bend over backwards to make it happen. If they don’t like a project, they’ll find every reason to deny it.

Oh, yes, there’s a third lesson: Lessons one and two are closely correlated.

Case in point — The application under consideration today by Bethel African Methodist Episcopal Church, one of the city’s oldest African-American churches, with roots dating back to 1835.

Bethel AME is located in the 1700-block of N. 5th Street, but only because its former location at N. 6th and Herr streets, about a mile away, burned down in 1995, and it’s that location that was up for debate today. Bethel’s new pastor, the Rev. Micah Sims, would like to put the vacant land to profitable use, namely as a surface parking lot, believing that its location near the Capitol complex could generate significant revenue.

However, such a use for that location is not permitted under the city’s zoning code, meaning the church needed to get a special exception from the zoning board.

First up: Sims and several members of Bethel AME. They explained the long, impressive history of the church, but, in the end, that wasn’t going to make any difference to the board. Members sat there patiently waiting for the applicants to get to the issue at hand: use of the land for parking.

“I don’t believe we should have the lot just sitting there until we determine what the lot will do five to 10 years from now,” said Sims.

Oh, wrong answer.

That is not what zoning board members wanted to hear. Sure, a few members of the Old Fox Ridge neighborhood group proceeded to speak against the parking plan, but it probably didn’t matter. The fact that the church clearly had no plan to put this well-located land to better use sealed the fate of the special exception.

The board unanimously denied the request.

So the parcel at the corner of N. 6th and Herr streets will sit vacant until the church decides to either develop the land, which seems unlikely, or sell it.

To the activists of Old Fox Ridge, that seemed like the best outcome, as having a large surface lot in the midst of their neighborhood for the next decade was intolerable. It also was not acceptable to members of the zoning board, a valuable piece of information that church members would have been wise to know going in.

Fireworks Flap

July 5, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

When you outsource a critical function, you run the risk of losing control over it.

No, I’m not writing today about Edward Snowden and the National Security Agency.

That lesson hit much closer to home yesterday after Harrisburg outsourced the most important part of any July 4 celebration — the fireworks — to the Senators baseball team.

By all accounts, the Senators did a great job. Over the Susquehanna, the rockets were red glare, the bombs bursting in air, with onlookers offering up acceptable levels of oohs and ahs. The problem had to do with the timing.

In past years, Harrisburg set off its annual holiday display at 9:05 p.m. like clockwork, the show wrapping up with a grand finale that lit up the night sky with a magnificent display about 20 minutes later. This year, however, the timing was, well, not quite so clear.

Official word was that the fireworks would follow the Senators game at Metro Bank Park. Estimated time: 9:30. In fact, the city’s promotional flyer firmly stated the show would commence at 9:30, a time repeated by most media outlets (including TheBurg).

However, the game moved along briskly, with the home team falling to the Bowie Baysox by a 6-2 count at about 10-til. Fifteen minutes later — at 9:07 p.m. — bang, zoom! By the appointed start time, the show had already wrapped up, with the hordes migrating to their cars and back to the ‘burbs.

Unfortunately, the people most affected ended up being Harrisburg’s own loyal city dwellers, who often scamper down to the waterfront just minutes before start time. On Twitter, numerous residents complained that they had missed the whole thing, and a few confused people even said they thought the city’s show would follow the Senators’ display.

Nope. As one tweet said: the Senators fireworks were the city’s fireworks.

Like most politicians, when Linda Thompson reflects back on her mayoralty, she probably will stress what she perceives as her successes while downplaying or ignoring the negatives. The annual July 4 celebration will probably go unmentioned.

Three years ago, Thompson tried to change the name and the focus of the established “American MusicFest,” sparking a completely unnecessary controversy. Then, two years ago, she said Harrisburg couldn’t afford fireworks at all, reversing herself when corporate sponsors learned of the cancellation and suddenly stepped up. Now this.

Given Harrisburg’s other problems, the July 4 festival is a relatively minor matter. Nonetheless, it does indicate a chronic problem of the administration — the ability to plan and execute something substantial. In fact, many of the city’s other festivals and rituals have experienced similar issues, to the extent that residents have come to wonder each year if there actually will be a Kipona or a holiday parade.

The next mayor would do well to learn from this administration’s mistakes in so many ways. As per the July 4 celebration itself — raise more funds, re-emphasize the music, court more vendors (too many vacant stretches), retire that silly, empty mayor’s tent and retain the wine area (a big hit). Perhaps these moves will help build back the MusicFest from the rather sparsely attended affair it has become.

Lastly, please, please make sure you have the fireworks plan down solid. Sure, Harrisburg has far bigger issues to deal with, but, when it comes to July 4, it gets no more mission-critical than that.

Coming to BSM: Harvest Co-op

July 3, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

And the progress continues . . .

Businessman Joshua Kesler is doubling down on the food scene in Midtown Harrisburg. He just announced Harvest, a new farmers co-op in the Broad Street Market. The co-op will feature goods from numerous area farms, selling to both consumers and restaurants.

Harvest likely will source food for Kesler’s own restaurant. Two months ago, Kesler bought the historic Stokes Millworks building right across the street from the Broad Street Market. He plans a total renovation of the building, which will feature a farm-to-plate restaurant, which he expects to open late next year.

Here is the full text of Kesler’s press release announcing Harvest:

“We are pleased to introduce ‘Harvest,’ a local farmers co-op at the Broad Street Market, run by Matthew Hickey, former executive chef of the Cellar Restaurant, and funded by local developer Joshua Kesler.

All of Harvest’s produce, dairy, grains, breads and apiary are provided by local sustainable farms and artisanal producers within a 50-mile radius of the Broad Street Market.

Our commitment is to build a relationship between the farmers and local consumers, providing healthy, sustainable local food, as well as helping to revitalize the Broad Street Market, which we believe will regain its position as the breadbasket of our region.

Opening day of Harvest will be Thursday, July 11. A grand opening party is scheduled for Friday, July 12, 5-6:30 p.m., in the brick building of the market. Everyone is welcome, and please, spread the word to help support the project.

The stand will also offer discount pricing for local restaurants.

Hours: Thursday (7-5), Friday (7-5), and Saturday (7-4)

All materials used in the construction of Harvest’s market stand have been repurposed from the historic Millworks building, adjacent to the Broad Street Market.

Participating farms and producers:

the Joshua Farm, Yeehaw Farm, Camelot Valley Goat Cheese, Keswick Creamery, Earth Spring Farm, Everblossom Farm, Agritopia, Ep!c Pickles, Talking Breads, Lancaster Farmacy, Oak View Acres, Amaranth Gluten Free Bakery, Echo Valley Organics, Little Amps Coffee Roasters, Fiddle Creek Dairy, Elephant Mountain Apiary, Apple Valley Creamery and more.”

Fire Inflation 2: A Convenient Fiction

July 2, 2013 | by Lawrance Binda

Oh, the comments.

Yesterday’s blog post, “Fire Inflation,” generated enough email and tweets that I thought I’d revisit the topic today: the surprising $5 million the city received from the state in fire protection money for the Capitol complex.

First off, I feel I should give credit where it is due.

I stand up and applaud our local state lawmakers, Sen. Rob Teplitz and Rep. Patty Kim, for achieving what I thought was impossible: getting the state to finally take financial responsibility for the city services it consumes. Credit also goes to receiver William Lynch, who convinced Gov. Tom Corbett and Republicans in the legislature to boost Harrisburg’s initial ask of $4 million by another $1 million. The $5 million appropriation is double the amount received in the 2012-13 budget.

The problem I have is not with the amount, which finally approaches what the state might pony up if it paid taxes on its vast property holdings. My issue is that, apparently, we’re all supposed to nod our heads and go along with the convenient, official fiction that this windfall is exclusively for protecting the Capitol complex from fire.

Yes, I know that there are arguments and calculations that support the $5 million figure, which makes up the majority of the Fire Bureau’s $8.4 million budget. I’ve seen them and heard them. But, in my mind, there is simply no way that 60 percent of the bureau’s resources go to supporting about 1 percent of Harrisburg’s buildings that sit on about 5 percent of its land.

For me, however, there’s an even larger, related issue. By focusing just on fire protection, we ignore all the other services the city provides to support the state. Let me offer an example.

In the 1950s, Forster Street, Front Street and N. 2nd Street were all turned from two-way, neighborhood streets into urban highways so that state workers could zip at high speed between their city jobs and their suburban homes. As a result, thousands of cars fly down these roads each day, making the blocks near where Forster intersects with Front and N. 2nd streets very hazardous.

At least once a week, I personally witness cars that have crashed or see the remnants thereof: broken glass, sheared-off bumpers, fragments of plastic, downed lights. Last year, a truck plowed into a house at Forster and Green streets, while a horrific crash at the foot of the Harvey Taylor Bridge took out the Miller’s Mutual sign and the pedestrian traffic signal. Just last Saturday, a driver lost control of his Honda, destroying an old-fashioned-style light fixture and ripping up the turf near Kunkel Plaza.

None of these accidents occurred on the Capitol complex, yet they all consumed vast quantities of city resources, which the people who live here pay for. When accidents occur, police, fire and EMTs rush to the scene. After the vehicles are removed, city workers clean up the mess, such as oil slicks and glass and debris, so the streets can reopen. Often, roads, curbing and sidewalks have to be fixed. Downed poles, streetlights, trees and landscaping must be replaced at tremendous cost. If a car goes into a park, the city has to rectify the damage inside the park.

Even absent traffic accidents, roads need to be paved, bridges maintained, lights kept on, police trained and deployed. Sure, city residents consume some of these services, but many are vacuumed up by the 50 percent of Harrisburg’s daily population that does not live here. In other words, the expense to the city of hosting the state is tremendous, far in excess of what it costs to make sure that the 40 buildings that make up the Capitol complex don’t catch on fire.

So, I guess what I’m asking for is a dose of honesty. I’m delighted that the state finally is recognizing its obligation, and I understand that slotting the money into the existing “fire protection” line item may be the easiest, least politically contentious way to allocate it. Still, I just can’t bring myself to repeat what I regard as a convenient fiction.

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