joancampion

Word of this week's special school board meeting is more than disturbing. It is the sort of news that gives the sense, as W.B. Yeats once said, that "Things fall apart; the center cannot hold. Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world." It is the sort of news that leaves anybody who cares about humanity stunned, staring out into the moral darkness in dread.
The $2.8 million in cuts that were made in the budget were imade at the expense of the neediest and most hard-pressed children, and the teachers who served, or hoped to serve, them. It is difficult to read about the girl pleading with the board not to do away with her school,  the Career Academy, since there was nowhere else she could fit in. The board voted to do away with the program anyway. The girl may need a miracle to put her life together again.  I can only hope she finds it.
The school system clearly needs to be put into wiser hands. Having said that, where can we find the wisdom we need to run education, here or in any other city or town? Certainly not in Harrisburg, where fiscal and moral chaos continue to reign. Nor yet in Washington, where one party is more intent on undoing an election than on serving the country and the world, and the other party's members seem to care only about their own re-election . The name of the game everywhere seems to be self before service.
Isn't that a great example to set before our children? It is the  making of an education geared to bring on the end of things. Because, in the last analysis, we cannot hope to survive without helping and serving each other.
Where are we now, here in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania?  Well, I hate to go back to the matter of the doomed school that nobody wants to talk about any longer; but without that evil project--and, of course, the financial proceedings of the school administration--it would not have been necessary to cut projects designed for needy children.
Isn't it ironic that the parents of such children were tricked into harming their children's future prospects  in exchange for an athletic field that cannot possibly be up to standard?
Former Superintendent Lewis has been rewarded for his role in creating the current state of affairs by a fine new job, especially created for him by Moravian College. Mr. Stan Majeski, Dr. Lewis's former aide,  will apparently continue serving the school district in fiscal matters. Oh, joy.
And some of  the members of  the school board, I fear, will continue not to know what else they could have done.  

It is time to look at the former school superintendent, and to ask why he was allowed to keep his hands on the controls of the school district many weeks after he was bought out. For that matter, many citizens would like to know WHY he was bought out. Obviously all was not right in the school district;  it seems clear that Dr. L's administration has at a minimum cost taxpayers in the school district millions of dollars--and now,  it seems, a small but significant part of its local heritage.  Certainly we ought to be entitled to know what happened--and why.
I for one do not believe Dr. L was the force behind the Broughal tragedy; I think he was somebody's, or something's, able tool.  Who or what might that be? I don't think we'll ever know. As one citizen put it at the city council meeting I remember here, "There's something we're not being told, isn't there?"
You bet.
I believe Dr. L should have been fired, and the reasons for this action should have been made public. I'm told this would have cost millions, because he would have sued. My own feeling is that the cost of the law suit would have been less than the cost of having him continue in office. That is, assuming that the conduct of his administration has been as egregious as we all suspect.
But what if it hasn't been egregious at all? Then the failure to pursue the matter in court means he never will have a chance to clear his reputation. Though I doubt if he cares much. Didn't he get a six-figure buyout? Plus a nice new job at Moravian?  (To the great shock of some Moravian alums of my acquaintance...)
Finally, a plaudit for members of the Bethlehem City Council. In the minds of some of us, their top job should be to protect the quality of life ih the city. Here they were asked merely to vote for an ADVISORY resolution urging the school board not to destroy historic Broughal School.
The measure was defeated, 4-2.
Gentlemen, such profiles in courage.  

"America's Christmas City" has been one of the things the marketers call this place. But the past couple of years have not exactly been a time for a communal giving and receiving of presents. In fact,  Bethlehem seems to have lost--or to rapidly be losing--its soul. Perhaps it is because, in our time, most of us deny that there are souls.
A couple of weeks ago I stood before a microphone in Bethlehem's Town Hall, one of many citizens to speak for the preservation of a historic South Side school that was a cherished part of  the neighborhood's--and the city's--heritage. While I spoke I could feel the fatuous smirk of a dismissed and, in the eyes of much of the citizenry, disgraced school superintendent. Next to him sat an alleged Latino leader who is not exactly, shall we say, in the tradition of  Cesar Chavez or Sonia Sottomayor. (No, don't worry; I DO know these estimable people belong to different nationalities. What they have in common is that they are admirable.)
Not so for the "leader" sitting one row back.  His idea of "leadership" is to encourage "his" people to believe they are not as good as other people and cannot be expected to accomplish much,  and therefore must expect and demand things like appointments to City Council and  School Board, the destruction of public property, and so forth.  I know a LOT about the history of this city, and to the best of my knowledge no other ethnic group (or rather. its leaders) has ever made such demands.  Nobody else ever put forth the proposal that, because they were here, they were entitled. They might have thought it; but they got to work to prove they were deserving.
Being a person who longs for everybody to have an equal chance for success (I am, in fact, a genuine and proud liberal), I was always an advocate for the newest comers to the city. And I had friends--one, in particular, the late Magdalena Szabo--who worked hard to help the new people fit in. 
But then, Maggie worked hard for the whole city. She spent her life doing it. She did it as a private citizen, as a member of the school board, as a member of the city council. She even worked to have a young Latino lawyer appointed to the school board--and then was very disappointed because he seldom attended and did not run for re-election.
I, too, was disappointed when the "leader" in the next row fought Maggie's appointment to city council. As if she had not earned it!--a fact she proved when she later ran for a full term and won. I believe she would still be on council if severe health problems had not overcome her.
I will be very surprised, if  Sr. T-C ever is elected to anything in Bethlehem--with the possible exception of that "safe" school board seat he has managed to create  on the South Side. Thereby taking a vote away from those of us who used to have--and in reality still do have--the right to choose from the whole range of school board candidates. I believe the people he is "leading" are not as naive as he thinks, and that if he really was regarded as a leader they would have voted for him. He would then be a public official with an opportunity to make a public record and be judged on it. I have often voted for minority candidates, including as recently as last November; but also many times since I have been in this area.
But Sr. T-C has,  since his arrival, fomented intergroup hostility, and probably cost the local citizenry millions of dollars. I will not vote for such a person, not for anything..      
Before I end this long post, I must say something about the "art" of reverse ethnic intimidation. Behind the former School Superintendent  and  the putative ethnic leader were some rows of high-energy but misinformed students and parents demanding the destruction of their historic school building. In favor of a six million dollar non-reg playing field, no less. They were choreographed and led by an "artist,"  a former member of Touchstone Theatre who I once respected. Either he believed he was doing the right thing, abetting social unrest and hatred,  or he was being paid. Since I can't believe the first, I can only hope he was paid WELL.      

This is a story that goes back to my early days in Bethlehem. My VERY early days.
In the predawn darkness of a late fall day in 1972 I awoke and set out for my first day on my new job. Over the weekend I had moved into a room next to God's Acre, the old Moravian cemetery on West Market Street. It was in Bethlehem's oldest neighborhood, and had the charm and patina that old places often take on. I had loved it at first sight.
But my job was in another place, to me a much scarier place. It was in the office of  the Globe-Times, the city's daily newspaper, on the South Side. I had visited it once, for the interview for the proofreader's job I was about to begin. It was in a plain, two-story brick building with an angled front entrance that stood--still does--on the southwest corner of West Fourth Street and Brodhead Avenue. Attached to its rear at the time was a huge brick excrescence that housed the press, the papers' trucks and cars, the  proof room and the composing room. That structure is long gone, and the core of  the editorial operation is now a magistrate's office on one floor and a video store on the other.
But I digress.
As I left my room on that first morning, I worried. Could I really hope to get past the looming Bethlehem Steel mills, through the dark South Side streets, and to the office without mishap?
Well, I  DID hope that. But in fact the mishap occurred before I even reached the north end of the Fahy Bridge.
As I approached the bridge I tripped over the large triangular traffic island that, at this time of  the morning, lay shrouded in darkness. At once I went slamming onto the brick surface of  the island. A moment later
 I was covered with blood and wracked with pain.
No one was around, neither in cars nor on foot. I was glad of that;  in such a state, at that hour of the morning, I certainly did not to be dependent on the kindness of strangers. Not in the darkness.
Slowly I picked myself up and hobbled on. I  got over the bridge and past the mills without even thinking one more thought about how gloomy the mills looked. 
On South New Street, right next to the railroad spur that is now misguidedly being worked into a greenway, stood a wedge-shaped, one-story little building. Tucked up against the more imposing buildings of the street, it housed  a hamburger shop and breakfast place that was a South Side landmark.
Hurrah! It  was open!  And kind people there helped me to wash off the blood before I  trudged on to my work in the Globe-Times proof room. The pain evaporated  after several days. The memory of the experience lingered on.
That was the first time I fell for the South Side of  Bethlehem. It was not to be the last.

Everybody does strawberry festivals; and strawberries are great. But blueberries are great, too;  even though fewer people build festivals around them.
One organization that does is Historic Bethlehem Partnership, which has a Blueberry Festival each July at its Burnside Plantation, off Schoenersville Road and near Martin Tower.  This year's festival will be held this Saturday and Sunday,  July 18 and 19. In addition to blueberries served up in almost every conceivable way (all of them guaranteed delicious), there will be country crafts for sale, and craft demonstrations to show how visitors how it's done. With tours, music, and games, it will also be a  great place to take the kids.
And just what is Burnside Plantation? Established in 1748 by James Burnside, the first Northampton County representative to the Pennsylvania Provincial Assembly, it was originally his 500-acre farm, though it has dwindled to a 6.5 acre park, now part of the Lehigh County Park system. And it also,  HBP executive director Charlene Donchez Mowers  tells us, is the only farm within the boundaries of a city in the entire Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.
Recommended: Go and have fun.   

A reader  left a comment regarding my last post, wanting to know whether, with regard to Broughal, I believe "the fix is in."  Unfortunately, I don't seem to know how to permit such comments to appear on the blog.  I will, however, reply in brief. The reader wondered whether the author of "the fix" might not be outgoing City Councilman Joe Leeson and his wife, current School Board President Loretta Leeson.
Sort of like the Clinton affair, only local? Certainly I do not suspect the Leesons of the alleged Broughal "fix," any more than I suspect the Clintons of  the stomach-wrenching allegations against them. (Would have been nicer for us all, though, if  Bill had behaved better than he did; but that is another matter and has even less to do with the Leesons.)
No. I think, unfortunately, that "the fix is in," and that it may take somebody of the stature of Gandalf the White from "Lord of the Rings" to save the building. But I think  the persons responsible, or most of them, probably are not even residents of  Bethlehem.
Who knows whether things will ever be any clearer? 

I believe they had an auction of  "moveables" at the real Broughal Middle School yesterday. Or they will have it within the  next day or two.  I try not to think about it. It's rather sad. No, it's VERY sad. Many consider this building, which has the look of a  Renaissance palazzo, to be the masterpiece of  a once-famous regional architect who is about to be famous again. His name was Albert W. Leh,  and his design "fingerprints", so to speak, are all over Bethlehem.  And not only Bethlehem, but as far afield as New Jersey and Pennsylvania's Lackawanna and Carbon Counties. He was not a world-class architect, but he was still one to be proud of. A new book about him, written and published  by friends of mine, is about to go to press. When it comes out, it  will be discovered what Bethlehem owes to Leh.  Here was a man who seemed determined to touch everything around him with beauty. He designed huge buildings like churches and schools--Broughal, the old Holy Infancy School--and commercial structures  like the imposing flatiron bank building at Fourth and Broadway on Bethlehem's South Side. He designed--and redesigned--mansions; it is he who is responsible for the current look of  the Charles M. Schwab mansion on W. Third Street. But he would also design you a garage or a small house if you liked. He is even said to have designed the toll booth on the old New Street Bridge. (By the way, does anyone have a picture of that?  I believe Ken Raniere, graphic artist and editor of the South Bethlehem Historical Society's respected newsletter "Southern Exposure", would love to borrow and copy it.)
In sharp contrast to Leh, the designer and maker of beautiful and distinguished things, stands former Bethlehem Area School Superindent Dr. Joseph Lewis.  I do not by any means think of Dr. Lewis as ultmately responsible  for the impending destruction of Broughal; I have my thoughts as to where the real responsibility lies, but since I cannot prove I'm right I will say nothing. 
Except that Dr. Lewis will ultimately bear the blame  for the loss of this fine historic structure, and that he will have cost already-overburdened taxpayers millions of dollars in the process. I am sorry to say that I first became aware of the plot against the school when Lewis sent out a crew to deface its facade. Public property, not his. This should have resulted in charges against him.  Instead, to the chagrin of many Bethlehem residents, his contract was renewed soon afterward..
I am told that a knowledgeable observer of  Bethlehem once  made the ironic comment that the city always would be a place of  great potential.  In other words, when the chips were down, we would always make a mess of opportunities. While there is talk of a last-minute reprieve for Broughal,  that would take a miracle. And, as founding Israeli prime minister observed, "Miracles sometimes do happen,  but one has to work terribly hard for them."
(What Ben Gurion did not say is that, usually, one works terribly hard and the miracle is not forthcoming. But that is no excuse, of course, for not trying.)
I am afraid that Bethlehem is about to mess up one more opportunity.  And, sadly, the symbol of the mess will be teaching at Moravian College,  a place you usually   think of as having more sense.   

Sorry for the break between posts. I've been contemplating a question about the history of Bethlehem which has preoccupied many minds over the years. It has to do with the unification of the city; and more especially with the ever-controversial marriage (of sorts) between South Bethlehem and the north side.
Blame for this mismatch, as many see it, is usually laid at the doorstep of Charles Michael Schwab, founder of the once world famous Bethlehem Steel Corporation. At  the beginning of the 20th century he was both the area's consummate insider and its best known outsider. If the deed can indeed be laid exclusively at the door of Schwab, it  will have turned out, ironically, to be his most lasting accomplishment. 
But what was in it for Schwab?  More especially, what was in it for him in the way things worked out,  a Bethlehem whose center of gravity  was effectively on the north side? His business was in South Bethlehem. So was his house, which he had commissioned distinguished regional architect Albert W. Leh to redesign as an elegant little French chateau.     
Here was a man who  wanted even the smallest of his three homes--the one over on E. Third St., now marked (once again!)  by a Pennsylvania State historical marker--to look like a castle. Obviously  he had a castle-sized ego. No question that he did play a key role in the unification process; but I feel I want to know more.
Why, for example, did "unification" come out in favor of the north side, putting an end to an independent South Bethlehem--despite the fact that the south bank of  the Lehigh was where Schwab  did business, and lived when he was in town?
It was, after all,  South Bethlehem that was the economic powerhouse,  the place where the money was made.  Why shouldn't it,  not the north side, become  the center of a unified city?
Some would say that one reason was all the vice and dirt  on the south bank of the river; but to this I reply, "Nonsense."  Yes, there was vice in South Bethlehem; there is vice in all major hubs of  transportation and manufacture.  And there also was vice on the north side, especially in the area down by the Monocacy Creek that was near the Lehigh Canal,  and that was known as Old South Bethlehem.  (In the beginning, what became the independent municipality of South Bethlehem was known as Bethlehem South.)
To  further  weaken the dirt and vice theory, Pittsburgh had a lot of both; yet that did not stop it from becoming a major industrial city.
I will go beyond that, and say that a lot of the concern about the vice and dirt on the South Side takes no account of the decent, struggling people of the neighborhood, the women who swept the sidewalks every day and had gardens to help feed their families, and the families who struggled to send their  children to college--in short,  for those who fought for the American dream of  the time, against great odds.
Instead, a lot of the concern about vice and dirt really seems to have had to do with bigotry against the groups who lived on the South Side, and sometimes even with  the resentment of South Side groups against each other. And as far as I can tell, some of this bigotry persists even to this day. Too much of it.
Does anyone have any stories to tell about the unification of the city? Family traditions about it, or whatever? I mentioned that to leave comments here it is necessary to sign up as a friend. That does NOT mean you have to reveal your real name, though. You can make comments under a user name. I am hoping that we will be able to get some good discussions going, and will be able to save them as a semi-official historic document.   

A friend of mine recently ran into someone she hadn't seen for years. But memory instantly made the connection for her.
"The amethyst door knob!" she exclaimed.
"Yes!"  the woman acknowledged.
Her family had owned a house in the neighborhood Lehigh took over. And my friend was remembering that one of the features of  the house had been an elegant amethyst-colored glass door knob.
It was saved. and is still in the woman's family. What other  small keepsakes might still  be cherished by others who shared this family's experience of loss? 

Thanks to Cate44 for her insight as to how things were between Lehigh and its neighbors in the years before the 60s or thereabouts. If anybody else wants to comment on what  are called "town-gown relations," or anything else having to do with the South Side (indeed, with any aspect of the Bethlehem scene), please do so. I gather you have to sign in as a friend to make comments. If you are acquainted with Cate44, maybe she can help you. I myself used to have trouble using even a ballpoint  pen, let alone a computer and  internet connection. I am progressing, but not as quickly as I'd like.
Cate44 is right that things used to be a lot better between Lehigh and its neighborhood. Asa Packer, the university's founder, was a businessman and entrepreneur who wanted to prepare well-educated engineers  and other technical personnel , right after the Civil War. Before that war, most of the nation's engineers had been graduates of the United States Military Academy at West Point. After the war ended (1865), industry and transportation expanded at an unprecedented rate. Packer and his friends--Sayres, Wilburs, and others--needed educated employees  for their industries, which included the Lehigh Valley Railroad and the Bethlehem Iron Works.
But they did not run roughshod over the residents of  South Bethlehem to  establish their institution. Instead, they offered opportunity, including to young neighborhood residents. Tuition at Lehigh was free for the first couple of years, until a depression--the precursor of today's--put the university at grave financial risk. (Nobody wishes to see such a threat happen again. Imperialistic as the place has too often been, it still has the potential to serve Bethlehem as well in the future as it has in the past. Right now the trouble is that the good parts of the   past is becoming  TOO past.)
South Bethlehem seems to have had good schools, and university trustees recruited young graduates of these schools as Lehigh students. This was a  remarkable opportunity, especially for children of  poor immigrants.
(Not women, however. It was probably in the  1980s--I am not sure, and have no way of checking here--that the university went co-educational. Before that women were for some reason allowed to attend the graduate school. I have no idea when or why graduate school admission was allowed, does anyone out there know?)
At any rate, it's pretty clear that things once were much  better in the South Side neighborhood than they are now. Many students lived out in the town,  and  townspeople earned money by supplying them with food, lodging, and much else.
Could relations once again be better? I think  that depends on whether Lehigh wants them  to be better.