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PAGE FOUR
ES
EDITORIAL
[] It is almost unbelievable that the U. S. Congress
still refuses to come to grips with a meaningful tax
reform, particularly where oil is involved.
With oil making more than its share of headlines
lately, from the southern coast of Maine to the
beaches of Santa Barbara and from the Mid-East
crisis to Biafra and back again to the nation’s
Capitol, it is not insignificant that Congress continues
to disregard any proposal to eliminate the ridicu-
lous federal oil depletion allowance, at least for oil
pumped from foreign soil.
Legislation calling for a reduction of the deple-
tion loophole has now passed both the Senate and
House and there is little doubt that some reduction
from the current 27% percent will be enacted. But to
argue its reduction of only seven percent is as mean-
ingless as to try to batter down an open door.
America is now aware that on the north slope of
Alaska big oil companies have discovered and vir-
tually stolen one of the largest crude oil reserves
ever found on this continent.
Conservative figures forsee that from this one
petroleum-rich basin the 13 giant American oil
companies involved in that area will reap a possible
40 billion barrels of crude. By any estimate, this is
at least a full ten year’s supply for the entire nation.
Percentage depletion, therefore, on foreign crude
makes about as much sense as allowing you and I to
deduct depreciation on IBM's machinery. But oil is
just that well protected by law.
In just one north slope deal alone, as an example,
Atlantic-Richfield may realize $5 billion in profits
from lands obtained for a maximum of only $93 an
acre. And naturally the oil giant obtained the land
from all of us, in that it was once public domain. Yet
from latest Internal Revenue Service figures we find
that Atlantic-Richfield paid absolutely no federal in-
come taxes at all in several recent years thanks to
percentage depletion on their foreign and domestic
oil production, along with other oil-favoring tax loop:
holes. Other oil giants do likewise.
Congress is aware that percentage depletion is
not the petroleum industry’s only tax favor by a
damn sight. Oil is also allowed to deduct operating
costs from gross revenue as well as charge off all
“intangible” drilling and development, a fact which
may be a more important concession than even per-
centage depletion.
In the Persian Gulf, Libya and Kuwait areas, as
an exaniple, oil.is produced for as little as 10 cents a
barrel, and in quantities that stagger men’s minds.
One well in Libya produces 100,000 barrels a day. In
some areas 50,000 barrel-a-day operations are not
uncommon. From this cheap oil the companies de-
duct their current 271% percent depletion, plus the
huge tax benefit of royalties paid to the foreign gov-
ernments. After the oil giants pay huge royalties to
the shieks and rulers abroad, they then deduct this
dollar for dollar from the top of their U.S. income
taxes.
Looking again at the Persian Gulf, we find that
we may add to the 10-cent-a-barrel oil, 80 cents paid
to the governments. Assuming a Persian Gulf price
of about $1.80 a barrel, then the companies thus net
about 90 cents per barrel on the guarded U.S. mar-
ket price of about $3 a barrel. Applying this to Saudi
Arabia alone, we find that accumulated profits from
that land amount to somewhere between $3000 mil-
lion and $7000 million. This is based on cumulative
production of about 8.1 billion barrels.
The depletion allowance amounts to just exactly
half of that, whatever it was. Furthermore this wind-
fall was enhanced by the fact that the taxes or royal-
ties paid to Saudi Arabia were deducted from the
final tax bills presented to the IRS in the form of con-
solidated earnings in this country.
Why then is it so hard for Congress to realize
that the U.S. Government is playing into the hands
of a powerful world government of oil? Why must
our government continue to proclaim in the name of
peace world security and the extension of the bless-
ings of civilization along with other euphemisms
that the oil industry is sacred, while in its name we
are expected to send our sons to fight wars for the
further wealth of the millionaire? Why should one
industry dictate U.S. foreign policy to the extent
that we die in the Mekong Delta of Vietnam on top of
the world’s largest untapped crude reserves, and on
the other hand swear loyalty to slave kingdoms and
absolute dictatorships in order to keep the oil flowing?
Tie SDALLASCR0ST
A non-partisan, liberal, and progressive newspaper published every Thursday morn-
ing by Northeastern Newspapers Inc. from 41 Lehman Ave., Dallas, Pa. 18612.
Entered as second class matter at the post office at Dallas, Pa., under the Act of
March 3, 1869. Subscription within county, $5 a year. Out-of-county subscriptions,
$5.50 a year. Call 675-5211 for subscriptions.
The officers of Northeastern Newspapers Inc. are Henry H. Null 4th, president and
publisher; John L."Allen, vice president, advertising; J. R. Freeman, vice presi-
dent, ‘news.
Editor emeritus, Mrs. T. M. B. Hicks; managing editor, Doris R. Mallin; editor of
the editorial page, Shawn Murphy; advertising manager, Annabell Selingo.
'BOY, YOU HAD ME WO
THRE
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THE DALLAS POST, JAN. 22, 1970
RRIED FOR A MOMENT THERE—I THOUGHT YOU SAID
E TO FIVE YEARS!
RPORs 77 rie
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it sure does snow in Buffalo
by GENE GOFFIN
Before we moved to the
Niagara Falls area, we had
heard about winters up here
—not only does it snow a lot,
it never stops.
We took out the World
Almanac and checked—they
list all the major cities and
state capitals and their average
snowfalls per year. Buffalo
topped the list with 103 inches—
more than Juneau, Alaska,
or anywhere else.
Neither of us has ever
lived in a place like that, so,
with a spirit of adventure
tucked away and a new car
with front wheel drive, we
moved anyway.
We settled in a place 15
miles north of Niagara Falls
called Youngstown, about as
far as you can get from
Buffalo.
I started asking the natives—
“Doesitreally snow thatmuch?”’
“No! Buffalo gets all the
snow, the Falls gets a
little and up there in Youngs-
town, you'll hardly get any.”
I thought that was quite
nice. If I wanted to see a bliz-
zard I only had to drive 40
miles and if I wanted to look
at grass, just look through
my window.
They explained the effect
of Lake Erie. It seems when
the wind blows over the lake
the difference in temperature
Off
by BRUCE HOPKINS
Things are really picking
up in the apartment complex.
Take Chip, for example. Chip’s
the new roommate that we
inherited. He's a Penn State
student teacher who in reality
is from Berwick and knows
a girl from Berwick who is
a Bloomsburg State student
teacher living in our, apart-
ment complex who knew we
were looking for another
roommate, and thus brought
Chip to our attention. I really
like Chip because I find it
refreshing having someone
around who does the kind of
flaky things that I do. For
example, the first morning
Chip was here, I woke up to
his alarm. This was bad be-
cause I was supposed to be
out of the shower by the
time his alarm went off.
Panic.
“Nice guy, Hopkins,” 1
muttered to myself as I rushed
through my shower. ‘The
first morning the guy's
here you have to oversleep.”’
I jumped out of the shower,
ran a towel over my beautiful
bronzed body (sic) and jaunted
into the bedroom.
“Okay, Chip you can get in
the bathroom now. Sorry I
; I cut myself off. My
beautiful brown left eye spotted
my clock. It said five thirty-
five. No. It couldn’t be.
“Uh, Chip, what time does
your clock say?’
“Twenty-five of seven.’
“Chip, mine says. twenty-
five of six.”
Chip began sliding down
under the covers. | turned on
the radio. It turned out we
were both wrong. It was
five thirty. In the morning.
Chip started to cry hysterically.
He told me to go back to bed,
but I couldn't go back to bed
because I had just washed
my hair which needs to be
between the lake—never
lower than 32 degrees—and
the air—usually much lower
than 32 degrees, generates
snow in Buffalo and south-
ward. We live northward.
In mid-November it snowed.
Only about two inches in
Youngstown but about a foot
in Niagara Falls.
Well, they were right—the
further south the more snow
—except all the snow was
about 20 miles north, not south
of Buffalo. And, then, I forgot
to consider, what if you have
to go to Buffalo?
I also forgot to consider that
those natives who said it never
snows. in Youngstown were
comparing Buffalp to Youngs-
town. When you compare any--
thing to 103 inches of snow,
it's got to look like nothing.
Miriam slipped on an icy
street Dec. 1—the result was
a broken vertebra. Now, you
can break your back anywhere,
but since the streets are al-
ways icy around here, I guess
we can chalk up some negative
points for Niagara Falls.
It does snow less in Youngs-
town—I'1l bet we've only*had
25 inches so far—I think 30
is average in northeastern
Pennsylvania for a whole
winter.
A couple of days ago I got
up and turned on the radio—
they had no snow across the
river; in St. Catharines,
Ontario, and 10 inches in
Welland, about five miles
south. I guess I'll get used
to it snowing to the south, not
the north.
I drove in to Niagara Falls
—the sun had been shining in
Youngstown—and a blizzard
was in progress. I still found
it hard to believe.
That evening one of our
neighbors found out her aunt
was dying in Atlanta. I volun-
teered to drive to the Buffalo
airport; their car wouldn't
start, mine is built for snow—
it’s Swedish.
It still hadn’t snowed here—
by the time we got 15 miles
south we were in a blizzard—
in the center of the storm
visibility wasn't much past the
hood. Our trusty Saab plowed
through, however. We had some
doubt an airplane would plow
through though.
When we got to the airport
we found operations were way
behind—two airplanes had
skidded off the runway. I was
beginning to believe about Lake
Erie blizzards.
We waited and waited. The
‘Greater Buffalo International
Airport” is not a tourist
attraction. For a metropolitan
area of well over a million,
you'd think they’d heat the
place about 55 degrees. It's a
small, crummy looking airport;
I guess they spend all their
money on snowplows.
the cuff stuff
cut, and if I laid down on
my head, my hair would get
bent out of shape. Did you
ever try to sleep while holding
your head in the air?
Not only has Chip livened
up the place, but we also have
been invaded by thousands of
female Penn Staters who will
be living in the complex until
Easter.
For example take Lump-Foot,
Nimble-Fingers, and Alice.
They moved in above us. I
don’t know their names yet
because I haven't met them.
apartment to make a zilteh.
Yeah, I know, I didn’t know
what it was either, ‘but who
was arguing? Anita took a
large plastic bag, and tied
it into knots. She attached the
bag to the end of a hangar,
the other end of which I af-
fixed to the ceiling with scotch
tape. Under this we placed
a pan of water (we didn’t have
a bucket, so we used the
porcelain bedpan that sits on
our coffee table). Okay, reprise:
hangar hangs from ceiling,
plastic bag hangs from hangar
over bedpan full of water.
“*Now,”’ Anita said with this
funny grin on her face, “I'll
turn out the lights, and you
light it.”
*1 beg your. pardon.’ 'I
gulped. She repeated the state-
ment. She stood there smiling
at me. How could I resist?
She turned out the lights,
and 1 put the match to the end
ot the plastic bag which began
burning. Now, in case you don't
go around burning plastic bags,
I'd better explain the auditory
imagery involved here. When it
But I've heard them. Lump-
Foot travels up and down the
hall causing vibrations which
cause our posters to drop off
the walls. And Nimble-Fingers
keeps dropping things. Heavy
things. Last night | think she
must have dropped the refrig-
erator. Either that or she fell
out of bed. And then there's
Alice. I'm sure this girl must
be named Alice because she
has one of those high-pitched
squeaky laughs that all girls
named Alice have. (Don’t take
offense Alices of the world.
This can be a very attractive
quality except at 2 a.m. when
I'm trying to sleep in the
downstairs apartment.)
The other night I sat alone
in the apartment innocently
watching the six o'clock hor-
ror report, waiting for Chip to
return. He had gone to visit
Judy with whom he was
teaching, and who happened
to live in our building. Knock,
knock, went the door. I re-
sponded, and there in the hall
was this sweet young thing.
“Hi,” says sweet young
thing, ‘I'm Anita, and I came
to get you.”
“Heh, heh, heh,’ says I,
“I'm Bruce, and where are
you taking me?”
Turned out she was Judy's
roommate. The evening was
beginning to look interesting.
Eventually we returned to our
burns, plastic goes ‘‘sssppllr-
ruuuttcchhhhhstststppppspsp.”
Or something like that. And
when the knots burned, they
popped. So there was this
stream of flame in our living
room casting weird shadows
on the walls and making this
strange sound, hissing as the
globs of burning plastic hit
the water, and underneath you
could hear my feeble voice
muttering the Twenty-Third
Psalm.
“Wow, isn't
Anita remarked.
“Well, whatever turns you
~on.’’ I replied, turning next to
the Lord's Prayer. Soon it was
over. | ‘breathed a sigh of
relief, and poured a goblet of
wine. Chip crawled out from
under the couch, and we all
sat down to discuss world
affairs. © ©
that great!"
When the plane was finally
ready to take off it had missed
the vital connection to At-
lanta at Pittsburgh. Our neigh-
bor came off the plane and we
‘vowed to try in the morning.
We started back north—the
center of the storm again—
only about ten miles wide.
The car cut through the snow
beautifully; then it stopped.
Do you realize how cold it
can get in a car when the
motor (and thus the heater)
stops? It was two degrees out;
we raised the hood and in a
blizzard one doesn’t always
check out the most obvious
things.
I predicted a blown head
gasket and gave up. Just then
a guy in his early twenties
pulled up and offered to tow
us off the expressway.
Have you ever been towed
five feet behind another car
at 40 miles an hour through a
blizzard? One constantly won-
ders how to stop if he stops.
He towed us to a place
called Tonawanda and our
neighbors had a friend there;
yes, they would put: us--up.
It had been snowing in
Tonawanda for a day; they
had about two feet of the stuff.
Along the roads it was plowed
five feet high; I suppose it
looked very pretty.
So the next day I woke up
with after four hours sleep;
had a car that I pictured
having suffered a fatal attack
and several feet of blowing
snow outside. Miriam's back
hurt and our neighbor was
highly distraught—she didn’t
know whether she could get
to Atlanta before her aunt
died; the airport was closed.
I did get home that day and _
picked up our 97,000-mile-old
car. As soon as I started it,
it blew the muffler to pieces,
but I got around for a while.
The new car had ingloriously
and quite prematurely burned’
out the distributor points—we
could have scraped them
clean enough to get home,
but who looks for the obvious
in a blizzard?
I had a $23 towing bill (I
didn’t buy towing insurance
last summer). The airport
opened the next day—when we
got there again—46 hours later,
it was snowing again, . but
the plane took off.
The car runs beautifully
again. Today another neigh-
bor drove his two-ton Cougar
into a ditch and my one-ton
Saab, pulled him out without
even spinning its wheels. I
didn’t even burn out the
points.
The morals of all this are
the following: it does snow
a lot in Buffalo; it doesn’r
snow as much north of Buf-
falo, except this year, but,
all the same it snows a lot
north of Buffalo anyway; it
sure is cold up here, and, if
your car stops, check the dis-
tributor points.
P.S. There's a lot of ice
skating up here—I sprained my
ankle ice skating two weeks
ago. Sure is fun up here;
really saps the ole spirit of
adventure. Coal mine sub-
sidence is starting to look good.
The Right
To Write
To THE POST:
Will you kindly cancel my sub-
scription to The Dallas Post.
RULISON EVANS
RD 4, Dallas
From
by HIX
For a while there, I was ex-
.pecting a helicopter to deliver
an emergency bale of hay, the
way the game commission does
for distressed cattle in North
Dakota in mid-January. The
pilot could bounce it off the
roof.
One thing is for sure, children
who have built snowmen and
snow forts and have run gaily
along the tops of snow dikes
built up by the snowplows this
winter, are going to bore their
grandchildren still 50 years
from now. ;
“You don’t see snows like
that anymore,” they will re-
collect, “we were snowed in
for days back in 1970 and you
couldn't get to the mailbox,
and every time you thought
the snow had stopped com-
ing down, it started up again,
and you should have seen the
icicles, 20 feet long hanging
from the eaves, and they never
dripped a drop.
“And those drifts, you couldn’t
see over them, and they lasted
for three months, and when
we went to school we ran along
the top of the drifts about
as high as the second story
windows.’
This winter of 1970 should
set all the old-timers back
on their heels. They remember
how it was when they were
kids, but their grandchildren
can now match them snowball
for snowball, and the tales
will grow in the telling.
I can remember some pretty
rugged winters myself, but I
am not about to elaborate upon
them. When you are three feet
high, a snowdrift looks like a
chain of mountains, and it
really does seem as if it never
melts. In imagination you go
capering endlessly along the
ramparts. You remember how
it was, and there will never
be another winter to match it.
You remember - the iceberg
in the back yard, the one that
was still slowly wasting away
come June. And you think how
times have changed.
You remember how the
snow comes down absolutely
horizontally in the Great Plains
states, never seeming to hit
the ground at all, and yet
building up in dunes of white,
enexoravly ' swallowing the
snow fences and the wide
white fields.
You remember tales about
farmers feeding their stock,
fumbling their way back to-
ward the kitchen door, and be-
ing frozen to death within a
few feet of safety because the
howling blizzard had covered
their tracks and the guide-
wire, stretched tight from porch
railing to barn, had slipped
from their numbed grasp.
And you wonder why the
pioneers in Kansas or Nebraska
did not follow the customs of
their forebears in New England
in constructing their barns and
chicken coops and outbuildings
like the tail of a kite, all
attached to one another and
trailing from the house, so
that feeding the stock is simply
a matter of walking through
the summer Kitchen and the
woodshed and along a cor-
ridor where chickens scratch
FORTY YEARS AGO
A cold snap which froze up
water pipes throughout areas
served by the Dallas Water
Co. hampered repair men as
they attempted to thaw ex-
tensive sections of pipes and
several booster pumps.
The Dallas Thrift and Loan
Co., organized for the pur-
pose of loaning money not to
exceed the .princely sum of
$300, was scheduled to open its
office in the Sullivan Build-
ing on Main Street.
Several Community projects
commemorated an extended
National Thrift Week: Shaver-
town Girl Scouts inspected the
new Miners Bank Building at
Wilkes-Barre and the Dallas
PTA heard an address by
Mrs. A. S. Culbert on ‘‘The
Thrift of Time.” \
Members of the Dallas
Camp, United Sportsmen, dis-
tributed a portion of the
500 pounds of grain sent to
Dallas by the State Game
Commission for the winter
feeding of birds.
THIRTY YEARS AGO
Mr. and Mrs. N. Whitney
Howell were discovered over-
come by escaping coal gas
Pillar To Post
for grain, toward a barn
“door, all enclosed and safe
from the weather.
I talked to Bess Streeter
Aldrich about this at one time,
out there in Lincoln, and she
explained. It was because of
the danger of fire, she jgaid.
A blizzard, before the cory
was much settled and tiiere
were no trees for a windbreak,
would find nothing to stop it,
and it gathered speed and vio-
lence as it blew. If a fire
started in a barn at the height
of such a storm, nothing
could keep it from spreading to.
the house. If the barn were.
built on the side away from:
the prevailing winter wind,
there was a chance that
flames would be blown away
from the family dwelling, and
that though the barn and the
stock might go, the family
homestead would be saved.
Mrs. Aldrich knew what she
was talking about, for sh@@wvas
a descendant of the pioneers
who had forged their way
westward, and she knew gliz-
zards at first hand. She® has
immortalized those times in
“A Lantern In Her Hand.”
There were still some hefty
blizzards out in Nebraska in
1928, and the temperatures
were astonishing. Oddly enough
they did not seem to be as
cold as they do hereabouts at
20 below.
We don’t have blizzards here
in the east. It takes a vast
expanse of open land to pro-
duce a blizzard. What we refer
to as a blizzard here is simply
a heavy storm, and there
never is a time when it is
impossible to see two feet
ahead because of the swirling
devil-dance of the snow.
But I have experienced a
real blizzard, and it is stag-
gering.. ; /
It takes your breath ifgay
as it beats upon you “&nd
smothers you and crusts your
eyelids and blinds you. You keep
your back to the wind, other-
wise you would choke to death.
The snow sifts down your neck
and fills your boots and vgrks
its way into your mit ns.
Three steps from your own
door and you are lost.
And when it clears, there
is a crystal clear day and a
strange land with blue shadows
on the snow, and a lonely wind-
mill steadily beating its wings
against a fathomless blue sky,
going about its appointed and
homely task of drawing water
for the stock.
The blizzard is accepted as
one of the facts of life, all a
part of the balance of nature.
Without the winter snow there
would be no summer harvest,
no tall corn, no bulging silos,
no sleek cattle. y
at their home at Demunds.
Found by their son Harry,
they were treated by Dr. G.
K. Swartz. Mr. Howell was
83, his wife 81.
Five million pounds of ice
were shipped as the cold wave
strengthened. Mountain Springs
storage warehouses were filling
and 650 cars of ice had passed
through Dallas to date.
Skunks were removed from
the protected list as they were
on the increase.
The Post listed 20 commdaly
mispronounced words, includ-
ing quintuplet, penalize, and
khaki.
Died: Mrs. Albert Hontz 32,
Sweet Valley; Mrs. George
Freeman, 66, Dallas; John
Edwards, Harveys Lake ; Harry
B. Shultz, 37, Loyalville.
TWENTY YEARS AGO
Firemen of all Back Moun-
tain fire companies gathered at
Irem Country Club for a com-
munity get-together sponsored
by Dr. Henry M. Laing Fire
Company.
Mrs. Paul Winter was named
chairman of the third Back
Mountain Community Concert
scheduled for March 24.
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