American idols Although I’d eventually earn a degree in psychology and spend my lifetime in journalism, I began college as an art major. One of the reasons for that involved a cool but sunny late October morning on Main Street in Pittston and a guy named Paul Reggie. I was 10 years old, two days away from turning 11, the day Paul Reggie became my idol. That he never knew the influence he had on my life saddened me when I read his obituary Wednesday morning. Paul was just 66. I guess I always thought I’d bump into him one day and let him know. Paul was a senior in high school when he won the Halloween window painting contest in Pittston in 1960. The city’s downtown was bustling in those days. There were more than 100 stores and on the days leading up to Halloween, scores of schools kids could be seen on the sidewalks out front using tempera paints to decorate the windows with Halloween art.
INSIDE
SUNDAY DISPATCH, SUNDAY, APRIL 3, 2011
Ed Ackerman, optimist
eackerman@psdispatch.com
The paintings were massive, four feet by five feet or more, and for a kid like me who could draw before he could write, seeing them was mesmerizing. For one day, this was my Louvre, the closest I could get to original art. I never forgot the painting – a witch – that won Paul first place that year. I never forgot that it was on a window at Saletin’s department store, or that on the opposite window was an equally inspiring work by another of my early idols, Joan Skechus. Although we lived in the same town and although Paul’s younger brother Rich and I would become friends, to the best of my knowledge, Paul and I never met. Still, he was the guy that at 10 years old, almost 11, I wanted to be. There were others. And for other reasons. Like Johnny Sarti. Three weeks ago at the Sunday Dispatch Person of the Year reception, as I handled the
Science Olympiad.............................................3 Sunday Sitdown ...............................................4 Local Chatter ....................................................8 Honor for Peggy Burke...................................9 Matters of Faith ...............................................10
duties of master of ceremonies, I kept making eye contact with a guy at the front table. He nodded his approval at the right times and laughed at the right times, and I was glad he was there. We had a chance to chat later and when he said, “You don’t know who I am, do you?” I had to admit I did not. He gave me a hint: “When you were a kid, I lived just a few doors up the street.” Still, I was baffled. But when he finally revealed his name, Johnny Sarti, I wanted to throw my arms around him. “Johnny,” I said, “you were my idol.” And he was. I reminded him that he was the guy who taught me how to play a pinball machine and he quickly put his index finger to his lips and asked me not to tell his daughters. I was, again probably 10, when Johnny Sarti took me under his wing. He hardly re-
members it, but I surely do and I told him why: when an older kid pays even a little bit of attention to a younger kid, it’s a big deal. “You made me feel important,” I said. Johnny had a slightly different take on our relationship of 50 years ago. “When a new family moves into the neighborhood and the oldest girl is as beautiful as your sister Sheila,” he explained, “it’s a good move to be nice to her little brother.” He said he hoped he didn’t burst my bubble. “It’s okay,” I assured him. “You were still my idol.” And there were others. Like Mike Caputo, coach of my farm team, the way he rolled up the sleeves of his plaid shirt. I started doing that. And Whitey Scarantino, how cool the white silk scarf draped around his shoulders under his black trench coat looked. I asked my mom to buy me one. And Hank Walker, the way he walked back and forth in front of the class teaching
VOL. 65, NO. 8 Editorial /Letters .............................................14 Maria Remembers...........................................15 Nutrition............................................................15 Ryan O’Malley ..................................................16 Peeking into the Past......................................17
American history without a single written note. I wanted to be that smart. And Ned O’Malley, the dapper teller at First National Bank. I wanted to dress like him. I always had idols when I was growing up. But never Elvis Presley, Mickey Mantle or even any of the The Beatles. And certainly no one elected from a TV show. My idols were people I knew, or at least people I got to observe first hand. As corny as it may sound, my dad was always at the top of the list, followed by my Uncle Eddie, my Uncle Buddy and even my kid brother Billy. Then there are my friends. I doubt they ever considered themselves idols but they were and are. And to this day, the list keeps growing. Recent additions include my own two kids. They won’t understand it and I don’t expect them to, but to me they’ve become idols nevertheless.
Town News ......................................................34 Sports ..............................................................40 Obituaries........................................................52 Weddings.................................................Social 1 Birthdays................................................Social 3
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