The end of an American Royal and strange parallels

It is often the brightest places that cast the darkest shadows...I have just read the Grand Jury Report on the Jerry Sandusky Scandal at my Alma Mater, The Pennsylvania State University,. I have not felt this perfect storm of violent emotion since the early days of my journalism career when I covered the Catholic Abuse Scandal more than six years ago. I am also struck by the parallels between the two events and how faintly I am involved or connected to them.
Much has already been said by the talking heads (No, not those Talking Heads, they haven’t been relevant since the 1980s.) Some of the observation as been scathing; some of it has been heartfelt. Now people have been asking me for my two cents about the issue. In fact, I spoke with a reporter at the Philadelphia Inquirer for a story coming out in the Sunday edition. ( I’ll add the link when it arrives.)

The question that the reporter asked was “did I feel ‘betrayed’” by the situation or anyone involved. The answer was “No.” The only way I would feel betrayed is if I were a victim that spoke up and found nothing being done. I would describe my feeling as ‘profound disappointment’. After reading the report, I would add ‘Righteous Indignation’. By page 6, I found myself wishing Sandusky tortured in ways that would make the Spanish Inquisition blush.

This is not my first time as a spectator at the sexual abuse scandal rodeo…perhaps a poor choice of words but you get the picture, if you don’t, read this report. In my short career, I’ve covered some tragic stories like this and some great heartwarming pieces like this. Despite my emotionally calloused exterior, child abuse/sex scandals never EVER get any easier and are the only reason I still support the death penalty.

As a young boy, I was taught to respect and listen to my elders. As I was educated in Catholic institutions, this included those in Holy Orders. It was also my elders (grandfather, uncles, cousins, father, etc.) who introduced me to College Football, specifically Penn State. Coach Joe Paterno was, like in many homes, a revered figure. I wouldn’t necessarily describe him, as others have, as a god per se. But I will admit that Paterno is the closest thing to royalty in America. Much like our parish priest was the embodiment of Christian behavior; JoePa was the physical embodiment of integrity, leadership, respect.

It was later on in life that I would discover that both are merely human. I survived a near-miss, almost being a part of the Catholic Abuse Scandal, after an incident that could be seen as an innocent gesture made me feel very uncomfortable. It was right before a Mass that I was serving; my friend and fellow altar server that day informed me of certain rumors concerning the priest celebrating the Mass that day. At first, I shrugged off the warning as ludicrous but this priest put me and my friend side by side, patting our faces; I saw something in his own facial expression that cause to decide never to serve the altar at Mass ever again. I would later find out this particular priest was named in the Philadelphia Grand Jury report.

I met JoePa once during my time at the Main Campus at Penn State. I was working at McClanahan’s. It was just after the end of Football Season but not quite the end of the school year. I saw Paterno enter in the side entrance, to the Penn State Room, of the building. I was busy cleaning arranging shelves. While I still respected and was a little in awe of the man, I had a job to do so I continued doing it. I noticed that when students saw JoePa they would hide from him but the locals would go up and chat with him. He would chat with them. (I wonder how they treat him now.) I realized then that he was just as much a ‘townie’ as they were. As I continued on with my work, Paterno walked up to me.
“Hey kid, where you hiding the papers,” he asked me.
“They are up front Mr. Paterno,” I replied, pointing the way out to him.
“Thanks,” he said and walked off. That was that.
(For the record, in addition to the New York Times, he purchased a half-gallon of V-8 juice. While in the checkout line he signed two autographs as well; one for the checkout girl, the other for the bag boy. He was quite gracious and didn’t seem annoyed by the request.)

What’s the point in my telling you these stories? Well, I feel the focus of this scandal has been shifted to the most likely scapegoat and not the actual guilty party as this piece points out.
Another who should be also in the spotlight (and also recently lost his job because of the Sandusky Scandal) has been rather absent of the discussion.

It took some time but I learned that former PSU President Graham Spanier is a schmuck. Like my earlier naivete about my parish priest, it was a friend (and later roommate) who warned me not to trust the Chief Executive of the University.
“Why do you hate Spanier so much?” I asked Ben Bullock as we walked to the gym for our daily workout session.
“He’s an idiot,” Ben replied.
“In what way,” I asked.
“Well, every year, he always says that he will reduce the influence of Greek Life on Campus Culture. Do you see any reduction of influence?” Ben replied.
As we walked past some fraternity houses and dorm rooms with sorority letters in the window, I came to realize that Ben was right. “And besides,” Ben continued. “Spanier’s own daughter is pledging to become a sorostitute.” (Sorostitute is, of course, being the derogatory term for Sorority members.)

In the final analysis, I hope Sandusky, Curley and Schultz go to prison for their part in this scandal and cover-up. Spanier’s dismissal is also a fitting punishment because as the head of the school, the buck ultimately stopped with him. How McQueary still has a job is beyond me. At 6’4” and 28 years of age, McQueary was more than a match for the older Sandusky, no matter how fit he was. This incident that he witnessed happened while I was still a student there. McQueary’s decision to run way will probably continue to haunt him. I don't care how much I respect someone; if I caught them diddling a child, asses will be kicked and police will be called that I guarantee.

But the question of everyone’s lips, “What About JoePa?”. I do not condone the student rioting (with or without the media’s help) that occurred this week; although I do understand it. I no longer wonder why he never named Sandusky as his successor. After reading the report, JoePa did nothing LEGALLY wrong. He’s morally culpable as all hell; Paterno publicly admitted that he ‘should have done more’ but should that make him a demon in the eyes of man? For some yes, for me, no. While I do not agree with his actions, if I were to see him in public, I’d still offer to buy him a drink or even shake his hand.

I agree with my former ethics professor, Russell Frank. Despite everything that is currently happening, I am still proud to be an alumnus of Penn State University. It was the faculty and my friends there, not the athletic department, which helped mold me into the gentleman that I am today. My former co-worker and fellow Alum, Joe Turkos agrees, “We should be proud of our school. As graduates, we need to advocate the purging of the university of those who allowed this to happen, while not forgetting the real victims.”

I’ve met abuse victims; they and their stories are not easy to forget.

The unsung heroes of Election Day

“Is this where I come to vote?”

This was the most common question asked by voters as they arrived to Bethany Lutheran Church on Martin and Pechin Sts. Many polling places were suddenly changed which may cause a low turn-out election year to sink even lower. My own polling place, where I had been going since I was 18, had been moved one block away.

The City Commissioners in their ‘infinite wisdom’(and are up for re-election) said the changes were due in large part to accommodate handicapped voters under the Americans with Disability Acts regulations, but were only announced two weeks ago without much publicity. I had seen signs in my neighborhood but I was too busy to really pay attention. I never really thought about it until a friend informed me that his polling place had changed. That same day I received a letter in the mail informing me of the change.

In the 21st Ward, where I lived, the local community weekly blamed the Democratic Ward Leader for the fiasco. The man in question, Lou Agre, was stung by the accusation.

“I tried telling them that this decision had nothing to do with me but they wouldn’t listen,” said Agre, who I randomly ran into while on my way to vote. He was checking on campaign and poll workers.

The second most common action taken by campaign workers posted at Bethany Lutheran was directing voters to the correct door to enter to the polls. Many tried to climb stairs that would have lead into the church instead of the basement.

“We should have put an arrow pointing the correct route,” said Paul Kerstetter. “Does anyone have a piece of chalk or something?”

Sadly, no one had a piece but with the lack of turnout; it seemed hardly necessary. Kerstetter was out stumping for the Green Party Candidate of Sheriff, the only non-major party candidate on the ballot. Kerstetter was joined by Bill Morris, who stumped for the Democratic Party, and others.

Despite the diversity of party and viewpoints, there was camaraderie among these people. All were from the neighborhood or near enough. To while away the long hours, since polls opened at 7 a.m. and closed at 8 p.m. , these workers talked amongst themselves discussing candidates in the current race. It was generally agreed that a certain Republican Candidate for City Council At-Large did himself no favors on the way he handled the story of his military service.

But the conversation wasn’t all just politics, sports gave way to general news. It was also generally agreed that the entire administration and athletic staff at Pennsylvania State University should be replaced. (At some point, I’ll speak more on this issue later.)

The English writer Warren Ellis sums up Election Day for me; it makes me “madder than a bastard on Father’s Day.” In all honesty, it was a lot of fun hanging out with these workers today; just regular folks hoping to get the vote out. They were certainly lucky receiving some fine weather…but the only thing would have made it better was a more positive attitude.

“Don’t want your propaganda,” said a moody voter, rushing past the workers.

All you really had to say was, ‘no, thank you.’

For the latest election results, click here