Page 4 EDITORIAL Anonymous Kingston Township Narcotics Officer Bill Pugh tells a story about drug abuse in the Back Mountain community which serves to emphasize how much ‘we need Analysis Anonymous, the new drug identification service initiated Monday by Luzerne County District Attorney Pat Toole. Officer Pugh can chuckle about it now, but at the time it was far from a laughing matter. He’d been called to the home of a young boy by nearly hysterical parents, who had discovered a ‘““pill’”’ in their youngster’s possession. Certain their child was taking dope, they’d refused to believe his protestations and had called for Bill to confirm their suspicions. Bill took one look at the ‘‘pill,”’ turned to the youngster and asked, ‘‘Should we tell them what it is?’’ He split the tablet in half, revealing a candy- coated chocolate—the kind that melts in your hand. : But Bill knows—and D.A. Pat Toole knows— that for every parent who discovers a chocolate candy in his youngster’s pocket there are 10 or 20 who find the real thing—the bennies, the yellow jackets, the red devils, the peace pills—and don’t know where to go to find out if it is the real thing. Afraid to call the police—(most parents know the penalty for possessing drugs is steep, even if they don’t know the slang expressions by which they're called), they confront the child. The youngster more often than not wails , “You don’t trust me!” and denies that the substance is a drug. Now there is an alternative. The parent can take the suspicious substance to the D.A.’s office and get an analysis of it with no questions asked. He can then use the information any way he sees fit. We think Analysis Anonymous may turn out to be a big step forward in counteracting the in- creasingly pervasive threat of drug abuse in Luzerne County, and we commend the district attorney for his initiative in establishing the ser- vice here. Subtle Threats Back in the days when violent demonstrations were occurring with greater frequency than is the case today, the Johnson Administration ordered the Army’s intelligence organization to begin gathering information on those most vocal in their criticism of administration policy in Vietnam and elsewhere. Army undercover agents attended anti- war rallys, street demonstrations, civil rights gatherings, etc. in an effort to collect dossiers on participants. They did their job well. Not too long ago Sen. Sam Ervin announced that in their zealousness to assuage official paranoia the Army had gone so far as to collect files on the likes of Sen. Adlai Stevenson and Gov. Otto Kerner, neither of whom could be classified as screaming radicals. Now it appears, according to Sen. Ervin, that the list of ‘‘suspicious’’ public officials did not stop with these two men, but in fact included other senators, congressmen, governors, and a Supreme Court Justice. Most of these were fairly conspic- uous liberals, but a few were of conservative persuasion. In addition to these men, countless other people of varying grades of obscurity have been subjected to surveillance by their govern- nient. It might be a good idea for each of us to take a little time and think about why our supposedly free and open society is being subjected to such scrutiny by its own government. Don’t just give it passing ‘attention. Really think hard about what motivates those in power to harass their critics, what this harassment means to freedom of expression and thought, and what the existence of secret dossiers could mean in terms of power for those having access to these files. Think also of those governments which have tried to suppress the voices of dissent, and devote special consideration to those which have succeeded. Run the McCarthy Era back through your mind for a little while, and if you get a chance, savor the Stalinist purges for just a bit. Think of the power of fear, the power of threats, and the power of coer- cion, and think about what government censorship has meant historically. Finally, devote some consideration to what it is that makes a democracy superior to autocracy, and then ask yourself, ‘“Can it happen here?” t By Eric Mayer Changes A Fable: Once upon a time, Auntie Samuels had a most phenomenal cat whose real name was Bernard but who answered more readily to ‘“‘suppertime’’. Like most cats Bernard was no trouble at all. He never left hair on the furniture, like his uncouth canine cousins, and being civilized in the feline manner, he found from the first that his kitchen corner cat-box came second nature to him. Half the time he spent on personal hygiene, running a raspy, meticulous tongue through his gleaming dark fur. Bernard was always carefully attired, all in black except for formal white paws and a white bow tie knotted in a dapper fashion beneath his chin. He seemed on elegant and refined creature indeed. Bernard, however, was very fat. In fact he wanted to be fat. He lived to be fat. Once, long ago in his thinner kitten days, he had roamed nearby yards, had chased rabbits through the woods and lurked hour after hour in the tall grass of summer fields, hoping to ambush meadow moles or mice. Often he had stalked away entire nights, exploring and hunting until the sun frightened off the night’s dark rustlings and filled the pre-dawn emp- tiness with bird song: But now he contented himself with remaining fat—a full time job if not an arduous one—and took pains to ignore Auntie Samuels, who was never the less very good to him. She had always worried about Bernard and was convinced that he had suffered some traumatic experience during his wanderings, which would account for his apparently apathetic behavior. Either he had been chased by dogs, shot at, nearly run over by a car, or tormented by the cruel neighborhood children. In the evenings she stroked his glossy back, murmuring words of comfort. Sometimes he humored her. Sometimes he simply got up and sauntered off with devastating hauteur. That was the kind of cat he was. Washingmon | TRB ,_ The health and stability of our society over the next 50 years nay well depend on the direction taken in Washington in the next few months. President Nixon has given us games and circuses in his spectacular trip to Peking but anybody can see with half an eye that the real symptoms of national peril are right here at home=poverty and racial strain. They are surfacing now in these directions: the Senate has started debate on three devastating anti- black, anti-busing amendments attached in the House to the Emergency School Aid bill; the House Judiciary Committee, March 1, starts hearings on a proposed constitutional amendment to ban busing for racial balance; the President apparently has selected school busing as his emotional gut issue for 1972, as he previously used the Communist scare issue in 1946-1968, and the law-and-order issue in 1970; and finally, the Supreme Court has accepted a Denver case to decide the consti- tutionality of segregation imposed covertly by local school districts (arguments probably in March; decision maybe in June). Short of a national nervous breakdown there is no chance of Congress passing an anti-busing Constitutional amendment and President Nixon knew it perfectly well when he summoned advocates to the White House just before he left for China. He wanted to identify himself with the Strom Thurmonds and to undercut George Wallace. He has made the same gesture time and time again. He is a naturally divisive politician who has never hesitated to spread his sails to the winds of hysteria. In this situation two things should be noted. Footnote by J. R. Freeman With government reform sweeping the state, from consumer legislation to the governor's revamping the Milk Marketing Board, legislators might take a closer look at their own shop. Effective government at the state level has been held to a minimum for many years, thanks to a closed-door attitude by the General Assembly, fostered by an apathetic citizenry which statehouse members have been led to believe have little or no interest in the manner in which their business is con- ducted. During this long period secrecy has become a watchword. In the Commonwealth of- Pennsylvania we have been enacting law on top of law for almost 200 years now, and it would appear that in the area of secrecy we have been moving backward rather than forward. In the current legislature, for example, a freshman on either side of the aisle in either house soon learns that secrecy is the all important thing. What goes on in committees and closed-door caucuses is not to be associated with the public’s right to know, or even another legislator’s right, for that matter. Add this to the sheer confusion that goes on under the big dome in Harrisburg, and it’s no wonder that the public finds it hard to hold the legislature accountable. Given that legislators are caught up in a trap of operating under a set of rules and procedures that are inconsistant, com- When he left the house it was just to curl up in a tepid pool of sunlight on the back- porch, from where he surveyed the lawn out of half closed eyes like a bored and dissipated king. Maybe during the long summer after- noons he dreamed about his adventures of bygone days. More likely he dreamed about his next meal. At times sparrows or other small birds, mistaking him for some bulky inanimate object, ventured too near and Bernard roused himself to capture them, though he couldn’t be troubled with eating them. Auntie Samuels didn’t approve of his catching birds, especially since he hid their feathered corpses behind the living room couch. “But”, she told herself, ‘‘that’s just the way cats are. They don’t do it out of mean- ness.” Though most of Bernard’s time was spent indoors he was quite particular in scheduling his outside activity. Each morning, tor in- stance, at six o’clock, or just before sunrise— whichever came earlier—he awoke, treked from Auntie Samuels’ feet to her face and awakened her with urgent pawings, pacings and, if necessary, a tail in her eyes. He hurried her along with gape-mouthed mewlings, piteous to behold, raced to the back door, went out into the cold porch, sniffed as if disappointed, and demanded to be let back in. Once inside he ran back upstairs and went directly to sleep on the soft, frilly, pillow Auntie Samuels had so recently vacated. In all fairness it should be remembered that, being a clean cat, he did not leave any stray fur on the pillow). Bernard was as phlegmatic indoors as out. He slept a great deal on the radiators, scratching anyone who had the temerity to aN pet him. For fun he jumped at window sills, knocking over the potted plants that grew there. During one three month period he spent his nights scratching the new wallpaper off the living room walls; shredding it ag far up as he could reach, which was a col rable way. That was more fun than scratching chair legs. Every so often he hid under the kitchen table and flew out, hissing and clawing at Auntie Samuels passing feet. It was just his wild nature coming through. “besides,” Auntie explained to her friends, some of them bleeding, “he just forgets to animal and no trouble at all.” So Bernard, phenomenal cat that he was, passed his days in supreme indolence, thinking thoughts of grandeur and growing enormous on them; a colossus in the works, a neighborhood wonder. Visitors, stopping by to chat with Auntie Samuels always ended up. regarded them with disdain and claws. Poor Auntie spent ever increasing sums on cat food and bandages, and lavished torrents of affection on her bulky and aloof pet, receiving nothing in return. It never occured to her to get rid of Bernard, in fact, had he asked, she probably would have refused. He was such a proper animal; so well behaved in his own way. Really he was of no use at all, though his imposing demeanor belied the fact. Surely such a large animal must be good for something. But such quibbles were as of to haming Bernard who had discovered the sec#® of life in his own unmitigated and single minded corpulence. He was fat, which was how he wanted to be. The world treated him well, accorded him a measure of respect and even a bit of reverence. He curled hugely and importantly on Aunt Samuels’ warm radiator and proceeded to eat himself through eter- nity. First, busing is a false issue. In a series of unanimous decisions the Supreme Court has never insisted on forced busing to achieve racial balance. For example, note the use of the word ‘‘one’’ in the opinion by Chief Justice Burger (Swann Vv. Charlotte- Mecklenberg)”’...We find no basis for holding that the local school authorities may not be required to employ bus transportation as one tool of school desegregation...” This is typical: the courts have generally been firm, reasonable and responsible. The second thing to note is that the forces of reason have found a leader—low-keyed, ef- fective, decent, Walter Mondale of Min- nesota. He is 44, the son of a Methodist minister. For sheer guts we hand it to him. He’s up for reelection this fall and he’s put his political life on the line. Thank God he isn’t running for President. Muskie and Humphrey and Lindsay have variously evolved some. equivocal or disingenuous formula on busing, Jackson has gone over to the enemy, McGovern has been staunch but rates low on the polls; Mondale and Kennedy aren't running and to that degree can speak their minds, though it could defeat Mondale for the Senate. As we have said before, we rate Mondale of Presidential caliber. For two years he chaired the Select Com- mittee on Equal Educational Opportunity which has heard 300 witnesses and is now shortly coming to an end. It will issue its book- length, two-year report around May 1, which should be a bible on the subject, going into side issues of segregated housing, taxation and standards. The legislative background for all this is dramatic, and tragic. Almost every year since Congress passed the 1964 Civil Rights Act, the battle has been fought over again. Heretofore modernists have won but now it is not certain; desegregation has washed up into the north. A year ago the Senate gave strong liberal leadership. It noted that'in town after town’ segregation was being struck down and” that this almdst automatically’ sent up the cost to provide quality desegregated edu- cation. The need for funds is desperate. The Senate offered aid to all school districts that desegregated, whether voluntarily, by court order, or by state law. The Senate bill went to the House and in a wild session on the night of Nov. 4 the House harpooned the measure with what Mondale calls “three senseless and divisive amend- ments.” It did so with Mr. Nixon’s support, direct or implied. It is a tragedy for the nation that in this crucial time for the most racking issue before the country Mr. Nixon has re- peatedly been ambiguous; he lamed the Justice Department’s Civil Rights Division; sought to undercut the Voting Rights Act, vetoed the child development bill, nominated Judge Carswell, and is now confusing and in- flaming the school bus issue just as many districts over the country are bravely at- tempting to work out solutions. The three House amendments would (a) prohibit use of Federal funds to support transportation to achieve racial desegrega- tion (voluntary or not); (b) prohibit any Federal agency from urging school districts to use their own funds for this purpose (and bans the Justice Department from enforcing the Constitution in connected court actions); (c) bars Federal district courts from entering a desegregation order while ant ree is pending, even the most frivolous. #2 Mondale’s portfolio of school improvement in various towns, with or without busing, are profoundly moving. Hoke County, N.C., had a triple school system: whites, Negroes and Lumbee Indians. Now they’ve all gerated, black, white and red: whites co¥inue to progress and blacks have caught up a year and a half. Hartford, Conn., bused 1000 minority group students, picked at random, from ghetto to suburban schools. Careful analysis showed no loss to the whites and dramatic gains for the blacks. A vast weight of expert educational evidence is that integrated education, sen- sitively conducted and with community support, can be better education for all— whites, blacks, rich and poor. Kids learn form kids more than from teachers. Busing is a symbol; it isn’t the real issue at all; by itself it can be either helpful or harmful. It is sad to see it turned now into a divisive, inflamma- tory, political code word for a Presidential election like ‘‘anti-Communism” and “law- and-order.”’ The facts remain; the Supreme Court is not our enemy; remember that busing would be required only where it is reasonable. The Court’s exact words, ‘‘busing will not be allowed to significantly impinge on the educational process.” These sof, plain enough and should reassure people if Mon- dale’s courageous statements are heard. plicated, capricious, or worse yet, unwritten, we find 253 confused members who tend to soon forget any code of the public’s right to know, providing they had such ethics in the first place. Part of the reason the statehouse abounds in secrecy relates to the media, which provides little or no coverage of the state legislative scene. Only a handful of newspapers staff the capital (not any from this region) and none have enough reporters there to cover everything. Wire services, meanwhile, offer only lip service to agencies. To most rank and file voters it would seem that anyone should be entitled to know all the particulars of a bill’s history. But that is hardly the case in the Pennsylvania General Assembly. In fact, it is hard to even find a legislator who knows all the history of his own proposed legislation. There are no crucial way-stations along a bill’s course for public scrutiny to develop, on either side of the house, and thus public awareness and a public voice simply does not exist. A legislator may appear to take a firm stand on a piece of legislation, then com- pletely reverse his position behind a closed- door committee hearing, where no record vote is kept. And the public has no way to become the wiser. In Harrisburg today there operates a battery of lobbyists who are not registered, and yet there are more registered lobbyists than there are legislators. Public apathy forces a statehouse member into submission of special interest groups, and soon after election he becomes convinced that his ac- tions need not be based on what the electorate wants; it simply doesn’t care, nor does it have any way to see behind those closed doors. The public then is given the benefit of only floor debates, and as any legislative observer knows, these are designed exactly for that purpose; they do not change minds of legislators, or their votes, but are shaped more specifically for the home folk in the event that the public might be watching. Incumbents often run on the record with an opening campaign slogan, “I'll stand on my record:’’ when in fact the most important work the legislature performs — committee votes’ — more often than not go unrecorded. Under such circumstances perhaps we the electorate should begin to ask questions about legislative secrecy. As John Burns put itin “The Sometimes Governments,” the fact remains that the legislature’s business is the people’s business. To conduct it in secret is to say it is none of the people’s business. To say that things must be said which the public cannot hear is to say that the public cannot be trusted to know how its own affairs are being managed. We might even ask our respective state representative and senators how they expect to regain the confidence of the public, and establish themselves once more as pre- eminently the people’s branch of govedenment when they continue to exclude the A what they are doing. Editor emeritus: Mrs. T.M.B. Hicks Editor: Doris R. Mallin News editor: Shawn Murphy Advertising: Carolyn Gass SS — I Pet AS Peet Pet Ped AN Peet peed eee mmo~ wn "TT NN TORE ol eA ea pp
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers