Eric Wise is a stay-at-home dad with three children, ages 11, 9 and 3. He was formerly a reporter for the now-defunct Hershey Chronicle newspaper, and he has 10 years of experience in public relations with four different statewide associations. His home improvement column, "Around the House," appeared in daily and weekly newspapers around Pennsylvania from 2007 to 2009. He is a graduate of Hershey Senior High School and Elizabethtown College. He enjoys reading, playing guitar and photography.
This Tuesday, some of us got to decide whether who we wanted to hire and fire for our local leaders. In Pennsylvania's primary Election Day this year, most of us got to vote for at least some members of the local school board and municipal government (township supervisor, borough council, mayor and other posts).
For many local elections in Pennsylvania, the story is largely told with the spring election, rather than the fall election. Individual towns lean so heavily to one party that the winner in the dominant party's primary often win by a large margin in the general election.
Local elections make an impact on garbage pickup, local schools and oversight of local residential and business development. With local responsibility, municipal and school board leaders have more day-to-day effect on our lives than the president of the United States or the governor of Pennsylvania. Yet when it comes to voting, the turnout is abyssmal for these "off-year elections."
Actually, participation levels are pretty lousy in the United States for all our elections. It's worse than what sometimes gets reported in the news because we often hear that a certain percentage of registered voters went to the polls, not what percentage of the citizenry.
One solution is the creation of a holiday for Election Day. In Germany, national elections must take place on Sundays or national holidays.
Some people have made proposals for such a change in the United States. Since the Constitution requires Election Day to be held on the Tuesday that falls between Nov. 2 and 8 each year, we could either add a holiday, eliminate one to keep the number of holidays the same, or move the observation of a holiday. The most obvious solution is cutting Columbus Day, which would relieve some of the tension and cultural baggage associated with the explorer's unsavory deeds. Then Election Day becomes a holiday, and more people are able to get to the polls.
A less popular suggestion is to move Veterans Day (originally Armistice Day) from its Nov. 11 celebration, which was picked to remember the end of World War I (well, "The Great War," at the time). I grimace at this suggestion because our leaders might be less likely to hold public celebrations of veterans if they were consumed with the election on the same day. Veterans Day already suffers enough when people conflate it with Memorial Day, and I would prefer to keep it where it is. Finally, simply adding a holiday for Election Day causes problems for public and private sector managers who will have to find a way to pay for a day of lost productivity, and for many businesses, that simply means they will not participate.
Fewer options are available for primary elections. Do we want to send Pennsylvania to the polls in February on President's Day? That would leave a long time between the primary and general election. Voting on Memorial Day would be even worse than holding general elections on Veterans Day: More people plan to get away for Memorial Day, so voting then would drop, not rise.
Are you starting to see why creating a holiday for a Spring Primary is so difficult? I can't see us adding a holiday specifically for it, even if it would help. If we made a drastic change, we could move the primary to Labor Day for off-year elections. September voting isn't as crazy as it sounds at first -- remember, Sept. 11, 2001, was supposed to be an Election Day in New York.
With all of these problems, perhaps a holiday isn't the solution for primaries. (But let's push for the Columbus Day trade for the general election, ok?) To really make a dent in the lack of participating in the primary, we need new options. We could explore options for early voting or voting remotely -- by phone, Internet or mail.
It's time that Pennsylvania at least takes a look at these options for the future. None are ready for our state to roll out immediately, but they are worth a look.
Middletowners have choices to make to shape the future of the borough. Voters will choose candidates for the fall election on Primary Election Day, May 21. Officials taking office in 2014 will have plenty of hard work ahead. I am sure Press And Journal readers need no reminder of serious issues facing the local government. Some people have even suggested that at this point, some of the tools for good government are starting to rust, and current officials continue to leave them out in the rain.
Bickering, blaming past officeholders and bemoaning the situation have not actually solved anything, regardless of how much effort some players gave these options. I hope voters choose wisely.
However, it's clear that Middletown needs leadership outside its government as well. Business and community leaders are searching for answers to help reingivorate, engage and build momentum with the local economy. Middletown is hardly alone in this regard, of course. Plenty of other communities also stand at crossroads.
Maybe Middletown is waiting for the right person to step forward, or perhaps he or she is here, but being overlooked. I don't know.
What Middletown needs is someone with leadership, vision and charisma who is ready to leave a special mark on the town.
About 50 years ago, Sam Hinkle was that type of leader in Hershey. The president of Hershey Chocolate 1956 to 1965, Hinkle came up with an idea that visitors often talk about after a trip to Hershey -- the Hershey's Kisses street lamps. The alternating wrapped and unwrapped Kisses that line Chocolate Avenue provide distinctive local color.
Sure, Hershey has plenty of things that make it stand out. Even without the old Chocolate Factory (most of it is being demolished as I write this), the chocolate business is still there, Hersheypark attracts tons of tourists and the Bears have a stellar history and dedicated, ardent fan base. But the street lamps with their special shape are unique. Hinkle had a great idea that went beyond just "marketing" the candy Kisses or "branding" the town. People from Ohio gush about the town that smells like chocolate and its street lights. Parents and grandparents point them out to kids as they drive through town.
Best of all, they make me smile when I see them.
Sam Hinkle did a lot for the community. He was also one of the people who was instrumental in building the Plaza, Hershey's swimming pool and recreational center, when the Pennsylvania State Police Academy moved from that site to its current home just north of Hershey's Tanger Outlets. As Hershey's chemist before he was the company president, he developed Mr. Goodbar, Krackel and the product that became Special Dark. He also developed fortified chocolate supplied to American servicemen during World War II, known as C, D and K rations. Finally, he set in motion the deal that took an excess $50 million from the Milton Hershey School's private trust, passed it through the Hershey Foundation Trust (governed separately under a 1935 trust) and founded the Penn State College of Medicine in Hershey, the Hershey Medical Center.
Hinkle's ideas have touched generations of people, countless lives. My favorite one marked the town with an identity, and with just a little whimsy.
I hope Middletown finds its people who will lead and will "light up" Middletown for future generations.
I saw a baseball game in Kansas City about 12 years ago. Honestly, I wasn't that interested in the game itself, with Kansas City playing an interleague game with another non-contender. It was a nice day out with friends while I was traveling, and I always enjoy visiting the ballparks of Major League Baseball. Kansas City's Kauffman Stadium (previously "Royals Stadium") is especially nice, one of the best 1970s sports facilities.
I don't remember a whole lot about the game, not even who won. Our group was seated along the first-base side with a fine view of the field. What I remember best is the group of disabled adults seated a few rows in front of us. Among them was one man who was into every play of the game. He had unwrapped the giveaway Royals backpack and wore it proudly with whatever he carried to the game that day stowed inside. With every tag play, he enthusiastically spread his arms in the safe sign after a Royals player dived back to first on a pickoff attempt, slid into second trying to steal a base or advance around the bases after a hit.
Before long, this mentally challenged man had moved away from his group, as close to the action as he could get. Even when the ushers checked tickets partway through the game to make sure everybody was in his proper seat, nobody seemed to care that he moved. As I sat there behind him, I realized something: I was watching the person having the most fun of anybody at that afternoon's game.
Over the years I have been to plenty of baseball games in many locations. I sat nervously watching Jamie Moyer pitch in the 2008 World Series, hearing fans griping with worry about the "cursed" Phillies. I watched opposing teams' fans bicker with each other when two terrible teams met in Pittsburgh. I have seen blowouts, comeback wins and gut-wrenching losses.
But this was the first time I had seen a person enjoy every minute of a baseball game so much. He was overjoyed to be there, enthusiastic about his team (regardless of its record), and glued to the action. I am sure it was the best day of his week, probably the month. He was enthralled by every play. This guy wasn't just the one having the most fun of anybody at that game; he had the most enjoyable experience of anybody I had seen at any game. Sure kids have fun with the game for a while, but they also like the food, the kids' activities and other distractions. On the other hand, adults who are into the game end up making themselves sick if their team loses; others leave early or get drunk on their $8 beers. So, as far as I am concerned, he alone was Mr. Fun.
That same baseball season, my brother and I went to a few other baseball games. We went to a game in Baltimore and saw a great game. The teams went back and forth with plenty to cheer and boo about. We had a great time. Seated near us in our row was a pudgy teen who didn't seem to take part in this. He was quite possibly the least interested fan in the ballpark. About 16, he wore glasses and a brown Nike hat, he sat with his parents barely speaking at all. No matter what happened during the game, he displayed incredible emotional detachment. His only expressions showed he was bored, more bored and apathetic.
As he sat leaning his chin on his hand with his elbow on the armrest, I wondered if he sat at home practicing to look this bored all week. He probably had.
He was there with folks I assumed to be his parents, and he barely, if ever, spoke to them, because he was much too bored for that. He was polite when he excused himself to leave his seat for a while, and when he returned before long. I am sure he was back so fast because the concourse was also much too boring.
Near the end of that season, my brother and I went to a game in Philadelphia where the strangest thing happened. Again, sitting in our row was the pudgy kid with the brown Nike cap. Two random games in two cities, and we're sitting next to the same kid. As you would expect, he's acting as if he's sitting through a tedious lecture about what colors of paint dry the fastest. My brother spied him first, and I turned to look just in time to catch him yawning and adjusting that odd brown cap. Yep, that was him all right.
I was curious what possessed Mr. Humdrum to get out of bed, pull on his favorite headgear and attend a baseball game. Did he yawn this much at hockey or basketball?
Regardless of his motivations, he and the boisterous Royals fan got me thinking that summer because I realized which one I would rather be like. I would like to think that I could find a way, even on my worst days, to be the guy finding a way to have fun rooting for a last-place team. I wish I could let my guard down to have that much fun in three hours.
Despite our best intentions, I think all of us, especially including myself, have spent enough time wearily resting our chin on our hands with a nondescript poker face as the world passes us by. I know I am like the Bored Guy sometimes, but it's high time I toss that brown cap in the fire and strap on my Royals backpack, smile and enjoy the game.
I bet some of you have, at one time or another, taken some type of audience survey. Web sites and magazines survey readers all the time about their experience to find out what they liked and didn't like.
As a reporter and publications editor, I have been through many of these. Sometimes the process gets agonizing when the number of people involved grows larger and larger. Everyone has his or her own idea what to include, when to ask it and how it should be worded. I understand that many types of questions allow you to gather information that you might want. At the same time, the wording of questions influences the answers. You see this all the time from political surveys and special interest groups who just happen to conduct surveys that confirm their bias.
At times, I have gathered some information about readers through these surveys. For my own purposes, I have done my own survey with a focus group that was quick and cost very little. I bought a cheap pack or two of magic markers. I gave everyone in the group a copy of the publication, a magic marker and an envelope to fit the publication. I simply asked the focus group to circle exactly what they read and mail it back to me. This humbling experience gave me insight into how much time people spent with the publication, what they actually read, and what drew their attention. In a questionnaire, few people will say, "I read two articles, and glance at some photos, headlines and captions as I page through the rest of the issue." The magic marker survey told me that.
But I also liked those longer surveys, too. The best part about them was that the boss (sometimes a publisher, an executive vice president or department head) was so interested that he or she collected the surveys and sat down for a few hours to scour, dissect and digest the results. Most importantly, this kept him or her out of my hair and allowed me to concentrate for a couple hours.
When it comes to finding out what people want to read about, hear about and watch on TV or a movie, it's actually very difficult to get them to tell you exactly what they want. "Oh, I don't know," say some, while others might rattle off their favorites and tell you do "something like that."
I found the answer to this question in the middle of my career, and it's simpler than you think. In fact, it's so simple that a three-year-old could tell you (they might even tell you clearer than some adults!). Here it is: "Tell me a good story."
Telling a good story is a simple concept, yet it takes a lot of work. It's not easy to find truly great stories and be able to write about all of them. Your editor will give you a shot glass, and you go to Niagara Falls and bring back the best water. Yet that's the way I look at producing articles, columns and blogs.
There you have it. In my Press And Journal community blog, I will be posting as I can. I hope that my posts tell you a good story, provide some interesting tidbit that you never heard before, or give you a nugget of an idea to think about for the day. Thanks for reading, and I will see you back here soon.
Anyone who has taken a trip west from the midstate on the Pennsylvania Turnpike past Carlisle toward Pittsburgh knows the trip involves driving through tunnels.
If you first made the trip more than 45 years ago, you may have noticed something missing: three of those tunnels. Today, the trip includes tunnels at Allegheny Mountain, Tuscarora Mountain, Kittatinny Mountain and Blue Mountain. (There's another more recent tunnel on the Northeast Extension.) When the turnpike opened in 1940, it also included Ray's Hill, Sideling Hill and Laurel Hill tunnels.
I am sure as the tunnels started disappearing from the route in the 1960s (Laurel Hill in 1964, the other two in 1968), drivers must have wondered where those other tunnels went. Well, it turns out they didn't go anywhere. The tunnels are right where they have always been; it's the highway that moved.
To understand the tunnels, you must examine the turnpike's history. When planning for the Pennsylvania Turnpike began, engineers started with a route that had been planned decades earlier. Nineteenth century industrialists Andrew Carnegie and Henry Frick tired of the Pennsylvania Railroad monopoly and teamed up with William Vanderbilt, owner of the New York Central railroad, to build the South Pennsylvania Railroad. They had the route surveyed and construction got under way from 1881 to 1885. To finish the route, workers had to do significant grading work and bore nine tunnels through the mountains.
The railroad was never completed, and eventually the route, or its "right-of-way" was sold to the Turnpike Commission. Turnpike builders (reportedly including two veterans of the 1880s project) used six of the nine unfinished tunnels. A completely new tunnel was created for Allegheny Mountain, while engineers opted not to use the two others.
When the turnpike opened, it was called the nation's "First Superhighway" with limited access and two lanes of traffic in either direction. The lanes merged at each tunnel, where vehicles passed each other with one lane in each direction. The slowdown at each tunnel led to a plan to bore parallel tunnels, which all the tunnels in use today have. Three tunnels did not get the parallel treatment.
By 1964, construction was completed on a cut through the terrain that bypassed the Laurel Hill tunnel in Somerset County. It's visible from the eastbound lanes at mile marker 99.2. This tunnel is still owned by the Turnpike Commission and is leased to a private company. It is not accessible to the public.
In Bedford and Fulton counties, the Turnpike Commission decided it was more economical to reroute the highway around the Sideling Hill and Ray's Hill tunnels instead of boring new ones. A new Sideling Hill rest stop was created as the new 13-mile route bypassed the old Cove Valley Service Plaza.
Today as you drive on the turnpike near Sideling Hill, you can see a large paved area where truckers often pull over to rest along the eastbound lanes. This is where the old section of the turnpike begins. It ends 13 miles to the west near Breezewood.
This abandoned section of the turnpike was used for a variety of purposes through the years. Designers tested the reflectivity of road signs by running tests in which subjects were driven through the old tunnels and report how well the signs reflected from the vehicles' headlights. Road cuts, now found along many highways and local roads to warn drivers who drift from their lanes, were tested on the abandoned roadway. Finally, some military units trained on the abandoned roadway prior to assignments in the Middle East within the past 15 years.
The abandoned section of the turnpike is now maintained by Pike 2 Bike and open to bicycles and hikers. While many people have suggested plans to create a museum of turnpike history, to re-light the tunnels and other improvements, none have materialized yet.
You can find the abandoned turnpike by going to the intersection of U.S. Route 30 and Pump Station Road near Breezewood. From the intersection, you will be able to see a small hill. Over the hill lies the old roadway.
If you venture in the tunnels, you will need a flashlight and a backup. Sideling Hill was the longest of all turnpike tunnels, and you cannot see light at either end when you are in the middle.