Fred Elledge Morehead

Fred was my brother-in-law, my sister Mary’s husband. He lived 22 years after the death of my sister June 25, 1987. He died February 22, 2010, near his Centerville, Ohio, home. He was 82. His obituary is listed below, and I have taken the liberty of providing comments about him from his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and his niece Jan Elizabeth Murphy. The comments are tender and say much about him.

My sisters and I lived in the same block as Fred: the 5600 block of Chamberlain Avenue, just off Goodfellow Bouleard in St. Louis. I think Fred lived four houses east of us.

Mary and Fred were teenaged sweethearts, but World War II interrupted any plans for marriage they might have had during that period. Fred served in the Navy. I can remember times when he would come home on leave in his sailor’s uniform.

As much of Fred’s story is incorporated in the comments below, I want to mention my visits to their Ohio home in suburban Dayton. Fred often would cook breakfast for me and my family. He seemed to enjoy that as much as we did. In recent years, we would see his wood carvings, and ride in his Model A beauty.

I recall that Fred often was “on the road” as international salesman for National Cash Register. The obituary below explains that he worked for NCR 43 years. That’s what you call “a real career”.

On one visit to Ohio, Fred took me to the NCR golf courses (there are two, side by side) for a round of golf. He did not profess to be a terrific golfer but he seemed to enjoy it very much. During our round, on a par five hole, he laced a three-wood onto the green in two shots. His ball was just two or three feet from the hole. He made that putt.

He seemed a bit confused when I told him he got an eagle (two under par). “Is that good???” he asked. (I think he was kidding!)

He smiled.

As his niece said (in her comments below), he always was smiling.

The obituary was as follows:

FRED ELLEDGE MOREHEAD. Age 82, of Centerville (Ohio), passed away Monday, February 22, 2010, at Walnut Creek Nursing Center. Fred was born June 30, 1927, in Centralia, Missouri, to the late JoGenelle (Elledge) and the late Turner Granville Morehead. He served his country proudly in the U. S. Navy during WWII. A sweet, kind and private man, with a great sense of humor, he also will be remembered for being loyal to his family. Fred enjoyed wood carvings, Model A’s, hiking, wild birds and love for nature. He retired from NCR in 1990 after 43 years of employment in International Sales. Fred was a member of Central Presbyterian Church in Moraine, Model A Club-Dayton, Dayton Wood Carver’s Guild. He was preceded in death by his wife Mary (1987) and brother Robert Morehead. Fred is survived by hi daughters Ann & husband Tom Wilson of Sugarcreek Township, Nancy Archdeacon & friend Nancy Kranzley of Morrow, Jaye & husband Tim Long of Dayton, 5 grandchildren Todd, Teri & husband Aaron, Erin & husband Jeff, Megan & husband Dave, and Jaimee, 8 great-grandchildren Todd II, Caleb, M. E., Grace, Joshua, Colin, Avery and Spencer, loving friend Pat VanOss, sister Ann Schaeffer of Denver, CO, sister Pat Elzey of Flagstaff, AZ. The family will receive friends from Thursday, Feb. 25, 6-8 PM t Conner & Koch Funeral Home, 92 West Franklin Street (S. R. 725), Bellbrook. Funeral services 11:00 am Friday at the funeral home. Pastor Brian Newell officiating. Interment in Miami Valley Memory Gardens. In memory of Fred, contributions may be made to Hospice of Dayton, 324 Wilmington Pike, Dayton, Ohio 45420. Online condolences may be sent to the famiy at www.ConnerandKoch.com.

#

Personal comments, as follows, were led by Fred’s niece, Jan Elizabeth Murphy, of Colorado.

Today is your dad’s funeral and I am thinking of you all, with loving support. And I also am feeling the joy…in celebration of your father’s good life and how he lived it.

As my Uncle Fred, he was always so sweet to me. He and your dear mom made me feel so welcome in their home. He got the biggest kick out of what happened at one Thanksgiving when I was invited to come to their home in Dayton…(when I was living in Washington, D.C.)… I went to the wrong airport (Dulles) to fly out of the D.C. area, when I should have gone to National Airport, so I missed my plane! New arrangements were made and I arrived in Dayton the next morning…on Thanksgivng Day, and your dad and mom picked me up at the airport. After our wonderful Thanksgiving dinner and celebration, we were sitting around in the living room with all the family and someone asked me about my trip back home on Sunday… Uncle Fred smiled his wonderful big smile and answered for me saying,” Oh she won’t have any problem finding her plane…there’s only ONE airport here in Dayton!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Hahahaha!!!

I also remember when he and Aunt Mary and girls visited us in the mountains in Colorado where we lived. Jacques was a baby, and dad had to go to work that day…and so Uncle Fred took his car and went down the mountain to our little grocery store and bought the groceries, and brought them home. I was quite impressed (being only 10 or 11 years old myself) that he could do that!

I also remember him at the time of his 80th birthday party weekend, when we all sat out on Ann’s back deck enjoying the yummy pot luck meal. Although he’d been having memory problems, he knew who I was…and I told him about the books I had written. And he smiled and I was so pleased! He wanted to know all about the stories in them, and then said he wanted to buy them. I knew he would not be able to, but his very genuine, loving interest was compliment enough for me!

I always thought of your dad as a gentle man. I never saw him be angry or upset, or ever out of sorts. I’m sure that could’ve happened “once or twice”, but I never saw it. That’s the joy of having an Uncle Fred…I can only remember him smiling.

Love, your cousin,
Jan

The first comment from a grandchild was that of Megan Ketover………..

Remembrance of Grandpa

When I think about my Grandpa, I remember lazy Saturday afternoons spent at his house. My Grandpa was a gentle and kind man, with a positive attitude and great sense of humor.

When I spent time with him, I loved how he would be up for whatever adventures I came up with. He’d accompany me to snoop in the barn, or walk all the way across the yard to the trees. Grandpa would tirelessly push me on the swing. Sometimes we would sit together by the window and read.

Grandpa taught me a love of nature, all about hummingbirds and cardinals, to walk quietly enough to not startle the deer, and to drive a tractor.

I know these are my favorite memories because this is how I see him now — in a warm fleece jacket, walking across the field all the way to the trees. I miss his kind soul and warm energy.

Megan Ketover (age 30 at funeral)

Among those noting Fred’s humor was Nancy Kransley, friend of Fred’s daughter, Nancy Archdeacon………….

Fred was a kind and funny man. He welcomed me into the family and, after my own father died, he became that gentle, strong fatherly person that I needed in my life.

But mostly, I loved his sense of humor. I especially remember one day when Nancy, Fred and I were working on the infamous old boat that Nancy owned and stored at his house in the non-boating season. It was the beginning of the first summer that the boat was part of my life. We were scraping the lake muck off the outside, replacing the carpeting, cleaning the seats, repairing the engine, etc, etc. At one point, Fred looked at me and, with that little sly twinkle in his eye, said “So, how are you enjoying boating?!”

I miss that guy!

Nancy Kranzley

Next was his son-in-law, Tom Wilson, husband of Fred’s and Mary’s daughter, Ann……………

When I got out of the Navy in 1972, Ann, Todd and I returned to Dayton. We moved into the house on Sugar Ridge until I could get a job and get back in school. When Fred & Mary had the house built, they didn’t finish the lower level. Dad and I got busy after work each night to finish the lower level.

We had everything framed and all the drywall hung and we were in the process of taping and spackling the drywall. One night while we were working at one end of the lower level we heard pounding at the other end. We went to the area of the noise and there was 15-month-old Todd with a hammer in his hand and three big holes in a newly dry-walled wall.

In my mind I said “Oh NO!

Dad said “I guess we should take the hammer away from him before he helps us some more.”

For those of us who knew Dad, you understand. He was saying that’s life, it happens. Accept it, move on and do the best you can.

Tom Wilson

The first of the comments from daughters came from the youngest, Jayne………………

My Remembrances of Dad

I’m Jayne, daughter number 3, the baby, and undoubtedly… his biggest challenge of the 3.

There is no way to summarize a lifetime of memories in a paragraph or a few minutes. However…

I will remember Dad as a quiet man, with a great sense of humor. Not so much with stories or jokes, but with slow, dry wit, silly quips, followed by his fabulous grin and a chuckle at himself. He almost always cracked HIMSELF up.

I will remember Dad as a strong man, a hard worker, a builder, a repairman, a mechanic…..the all `round Handyman. He was always doing something … he always had a project and in my mind, I don’t think there was a thing he couldn’t do.

Dad traveled all over the world when he worked for NCR and we made many trips to the Dayton airport to pick him up. I remember being so excited when he was finally the one to emerge from the plane, walk down the steps from the plane and across the tarmac. I remember being in awe of him for being so worldly. I don’t know that I really knew what worldly meant as a child … I just knew I felt proud he was my Dad.

I remember a time when in the evening, as he arrived home from work, Mom would be cooking dinner and give me the “heads up” that “Dad’s home!” I would run to the hall closet, nestle in behind his suit jackets, his overcoats and hide. He would set his leather briefcase down in front of my “supposed” hidden feet, hang his jacket up and close the door. I would pop out giggling. Never once did he let on that he knew I was in there and I thought it was so funny I could trick him again and again. I still remember the smell of that leather briefcase.

Dad taught me to ride a bike. He took off the training wheels and we walked to the end of the driveway on Enfield. I got on my bike, he got behind me, with his hands on the seat, started to push and said go. Pedaling, pedaling down the slope of the driveway approaching the backyard… I turn my head around and there was Dad back at the end of driveway grinning that grin. I made a safe stop halfway into the backyard. Ignoring the possibility there could be some serious trust issues later on to deal with….I rode my bike down the driveway over and over that day. There were never any trust issues with Dad either.

I will remember many summer family vacations to National parks, visiting relatives in many states along the way, arriving in California where his Mom and Stepfather, my Grandma and Grandpa….Beanie and FaFa lived.

Dad liked hats. He liked music, braunschwager sandwiches and John Deere Tractors. He especially liked red tractors. He liked to fish…. however I don’t ever recall him ever catching one. He didn’t like the game Bingo.

I will remember Dad as a gentleman farmer…… plowing, planting and harvesting 6 acres of soybeans and loving every minute of it. Writing it off as a loss every year probably nurtured that love.

After Mom passed away and later on in his life when he was no longer farming, I will remember his passion for his hobbies; Tennis, hiking, carving, his Model-A’s and his never ending tinkering around.

He was a loving Dad and would do anything for us. Always ready to lend a hand or give advice.

I will remember Dad as a loving Husband, a wonderful Grandfather and Great Grandfather, a fantastic Father-in-Law who made the guys feel like sons, a loving companion, a helpful neighbor and good friend.

There is something though that Ann, Nancy and I have always wanted to forget… and that is that we were not so blessed to inherit…. through genetics…. his thick fingered, wrinkly knuckle hands. We thanked him often for that and he always chuckled. I believe he has a couple nieces who were blessed as well.

Dad’s big, strong hands, many times scraped and calloused, served him well. As he slowed down, his hands were still big and strong, but very soft. We held hands many times the last few years, in silence, and he would gently squeeze mine. I knew that meant… I love you. Now, whenever I look at my hands, I will think of Dad and smile.

I always will remember watching Dad at the end of the day, sitting quietly on the back porch with a glass of lemonade, ice tea, coffee, or cocktail …enjoying the beauty of his little farm, savoring the accomplishment of a good days work.

Well done Dad… .a life well done.

Love you, will miss you.

Jayne (Daughter Number Three)

Next was Jayne’s sister, Nancy………………

During the course of our Dad’s career at NCR, he had many occasions in which he would need to speak in public or in front of a large group. He took various speaking courses including “Dale Carnegie’s” How to Win Friends and Influence People. From that course he learned that when people identify their greatest fear, they typically list speaking in front of a group as a fear greater than death. To lessen that fear, Dad said that they taught him to stand at the podium and when he looked out at the assembled group….to imagine that the people in the audience had cabbages where their heads should be. I think that it is only fair that you know how I am seeing you all right now.

What I learned from my Dad….when we had Dad’s 80th birthday party, Ann and Tom made a video for Dad and the song that seemed so appropriate for that video was “The Things We’ve Handed Down”.

These are some of the things that he has handed down to me.

Love of nature and wildlife, especially birds.

Just like him, I love having a barn and a workshop and a place to “putter” around, as he would say…. Because of him, I feel pretty comfortable working with the tools that he used. He never made a big deal of teaching me, we simply did things together.

After seeing what he was able to create out of trees, I have the desire to carve wood. I do not know if I will ever be able to do what he did with wood and a carving knife, but I would like to try. His carvings are some of my favorite memories of him.

A love for fishing, not deep sea fishing or big fishing trips, but quietly sitting by the water on an afternoon…. it was not really about catching fish, we never really caught many fish. The family joke is that we caught so few fish and invariably someone at the bait store would say “Oh, you should have been here last week, they were hauling them in.” Maybe that was why is was so memorable when we did……But, he taught me to bait a hook to make it almost irresistible to a fish, which I have taught my grandson, Joshua, and I will teach Avery, if she is interested.

Long before Dad’s memory began to fail, he showed us by his actions what each of us meant to him.

He did not so much teach us, as show us by his actions and by sharing with us the things that he learned as he lived. In this way, he handed them down.

I never doubted where I stood in Dad’s heart, No matter what, I always felt well-loved. And he was well loved in return.

Nancy (Daughter Number Two)

First daughter Ann, who is expert in the role that chronology authorized, said the following…………….

ANN’S REMEMBERANCE

One Christmas, Dad carved us all Santas. They were very cute, each one a little different. Mine was holding a tennis racquet. Thinking it couldn’t be that hard, I thought I’d give carving a try and asked Dad to teach me to make Santas.

Being the infinitely patient man that he was, we made a date for my lesson. Well, the more wood I carved the more I realized that this was much harder than it looked. Dad was very encouraging and kind, but I can’t imagine what he was thinking as my Santa developed one very skinny ankle, completely out of proportion to the other. At that point I was ready to call it quits on learning to carve. He really did have a talent that he didn’t pass on to me!

I remember commenting that carving was not going to be my forte, and asked him how in the world he got the proportions just right, and he said “it’s simple…. just carve away the parts of the wood that aren’t a Santa”.

As I now look at all of his beautiful carvings, I remember his simple answer to my question and marvel at the potential he could see in an ordinary piece of wood.

In much the same way, all of us who were blessed to be a part of his life, felt uniquely accepted, each of us different but perfect in his eyes, perfectly carved and loved just as we are.

Ann (Fred’s and Mary’s oldest daughter)

Ann’s and Tom’s daughter, Teri Ann Wilson Smith (age 33 at the funeral), had the following memories of her grandfather……………..

Memories of Grandpa

G……stands for GRAND….. because that is exactly
what he was.

R…..stands for RED TRACTOR….it was a part of
him….and we always have our own special memories of
the tractor.

A….stands for MODEL A….and riding with him in the 4th of
July parade.

N….stands for NAPS in his chair…..I have so many memories
of sitting on Grandpa’s lap in his chair.

D….stands for DAPPER… because he was so
handsome

P…..stands for PEANUT BUTTER AND BUTTER
sandwiches for bed time snack.

A…..stands for ALWAYS….because I will always love and remember you Grandpa and treasure the wonderful life you lived and all the memories we created.

Teri (granddaughter)

Teri’s brother, Todd Alan Wilson, was next ……..

He was the best grandpa ever because…. well, there isn’t just one thing.

There are many memories that come to mind. Riding around the yard on that mini-bike that was held together with bubble gum and rust. How did we all survive? or how we would all fight to be next to ride on his lap on the tractors…as you look at the video of pictures, there isn’t a picture of him and his tractor that he doesn’t have a grandchild or great grandchild in his lap…

There was the time when he hired me and my friend Shawn to cut down the trees along the lane. Now mind you these were large trees, we were down to the last one and we cut it wrong and it was leaning toward he power lines. Well, never fear Grandpa is here! He rigged some sort of rope system that involved several pieces of old rope, chains, and I think I even saw a piece of rubber hose…he hooked it to the tree and then to the old Ford tractor. I’m not afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to watch…. but, like always, it worked and he fell the tree right where he wanted it…

My dad once said it was frustrating doing work over at Grandpa’s cause he had so many tools but never the right one…but if you needed something, Grandpa would rig or fashion something together and it would work…l could go on for hours….he was the best Grandpa ever because…..he was GRANDPA

………………..oh and by the way Grandpa….I’m getting my haircut later today!

Todd (grandchild, Tom’s and Ann’s son, age 39 at the funeral)

Todd’s son, great-grandchild Todd Alan Wilson II, offered the following…………………

He was the best great grandpa ever because I would remember always wanting to ride on his big red tractor. And I can still remember one time, when I was little, that he took me on it and let me sit in his lap. That was a good day, and an even better memory. He was a great man and the best great grandpa ever.

Todd Wilson II (great-grandson, age 13 at time of funeral)

Todd’s sister was next…………………….

Grace Wilson (Todd’s sister)

He was the best great grandpa ever because he loved all his great grandchildren and loved to ask a lot of questions. He loved his family so much.

(Grace Kelly Wilson, age

And the last great-grandchild, Jaimee Gabriel Long, Jayne’s daughter (age 23)………………….

Jaimee

I will always remember his bright smile, rides on the tractor and walks through the farm.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Robin Roberts

Hall of Fame workhorse pitcher Robin Roberts of the Philadelphia Phillies died today (Thursday, May 6, 2010) at his home in Temple Terrace, 10 miles northeast of Tampa. He was 83.

Mr. Roberts started three games on the final five days of the 1950 season and was the winning pitcher in a victory over the Brooklyn Dodgers that gave the Phillies their first pennant in 35 years. That year, he became the Phillies’ first 20-game winner since Grover Cleveland Alexander in 1917.

I report on Robin Roberts because I had the rather unique pleasure of meeting and talking with him over a period of months in the mid-1970′s. I had personal experience in meeting a man whom many today have called “a very nice man”.

At the time I was Executive Director of the Philadelphia Civic Center. After the demise of the Philadelphia Blazers in 1973 in the World Hockey Association, the owner of Mrs. Paul’s Kitchens, Ed Piszek, formed a minor league hockey team in the North American Hockey League and they played their games at the Civic Center. Mr. Piszek was a friend of Robin Roberts’ and invited him to be the team’s General Manager. I am not sure but a comment left on the philly.com website today said Robin Roberts was part-owner of the Firebirds. I just do not recall that distinction.

However, he did seem to enjoy his role as the GM of the Firebirds. Once or twice a week, he would call me from the Firebirds second floor offices to see if I was available for a meeting. While I believe I was “available” for all callers, I always was “available” for Robin Roberts.

He usually would ask for some kind of cooperation from “the building” for something the Firebirds wanted to do. I served as his enabler, so to speak, and was honored to do so. His requests always were reasonable.

Our meetings were maybe 30% business and 70% baseball. Once he found out I was an ardent baseball fan, he knew he had a major audience of one with someone seven years younger than he.

I told him that as a young resident of St. Louis, I had been weaned on Stan Musial of the Cardinals. Robin Roberts spoke with great admiration for Stan the Man, whom he faced numerous times.

Mr. Roberts was amusing and blessed with philosophy. He said even then (I think he was 46 or 47 at the time), old-timers with the Phillies all still greeted him the same way: “How’s the arm, Robbie??”

He said he always would reply: “The arm’s fine, thank you.”

He said he enjoyed his position with the Firebirds and enjoyed working with the young hockey players. But I never will forget what he added: “You know, John, I made a big mistake when I retired.”

If you know of his way of talking, and visualize his sitting there in the chair in almost a confidential tone, he told me: “I made a big mistake….because I should have been smart enough to get a bunch of business cards printed. Just my name and phone number, and under that, just one word: CONSULTANT.

“The guys who make all the money these days are consultants. And, y’see, you don’t say what kind of consultant you are. You’re just a consultant. And when they call you up and ask you whether you can consult on something, of course you can do that!”

He laughed.

Albert V. Gaudiosi

Albert V. Gaudiosi was described in an obituary in the Philadelphia Daily News as “the quintessential tough, hard-boiled newspaper reporter who later became a tough, hard-boiled city official under Mayor Frank L. Rizzo”.

Al was my boss during the Rizzo for Mayor Campaign in 1971, and when he was (briefly) City Representative and Director of Commerce in the mid 1970′s. He died April 7, 2010, in Houston at age 86 of complications of lymphoma.

The Daily News obituary writer, John F. Morrison, suggested Al “might have been abrupt, impetuous, pushy and annoying, but, as those who knew him agreed, was also a fine administrator with a keen intelligence and quick wit”.

During the 1971 Rizzo Campaign, I recall going to Al’s office to ask him about the new poll he had just received. To hear the newspapers tell it, the race was going to be very close between Police Commissioner Rizzo and Republican candidate Thacher Longstreth.

“John,” Al said. “Don’t worry! We’re winners. We’re winners.”

He said it with such confidence, I stopped the worrying!

In 1963, Gaudiosi and fellow Philadelphia Bulletin reporter Jim Magee along with photographer Frederick Meyer shared a Pulitzer Prize for an investigative series on a numbers racket with police collusion. Myers photographed gambling transactions from a room they had rented in South Philadelphia. Gaudiosi took the photos to Rizzo, then a Chief Inspector, who identified the policemen or had them identified.

That was the beginning of his relationship with Rizzo.

The Daily News had a bit of the Gaudiosi scenario a bit incorrect. It said that when Commissioner Rizzo decided to run for Mayor in 1971, Gaudiosi was in the Philadelphia Bulletin newsroom taking a story from a reporter when city editor Sam Boyle came up and pulled off Al’s headset.

“You’re out of here,” Boyle declared.

“What do you mean?” Gaudiosi asked.

“Rizzo just named you his campaign director.”

You would think, by the Daily News obituary, that this came as a surprise to Al Gaudiosi. On the contrary, Al was prepared for this for many months. My source for this? Myself.

One day, back in the spring of 1969, I got a call from the Commissioner’s office. “The Commissioner would like for you to stop in his office this afternoon.”

At the time, I was a reporter/newscaster for KYW-TV.

When I arrived, Frank Rizzo sat down at his conference table and said he had two things he wanted to say to me “off the record”. He said he had just decided to run for Mayor, having received the private assurance from Mayor James H. J. Tate that he would have the Mayor’s endorsement some day in the future.

And, he said, I want you to work for me. He told me I was “the second newsman” to know about his decision. I soon realized that reporters who go into politics don’t necessarily do it overnight. This was 2 1/2 years before Election Day.

The first newsman? Al Gaudiosi.

Harry Belinger

Harry R. Belinger, four-year Philadelphia City Representative and Director of Commerce, and my boss during that period, died Wednesday, September 23, 2009, of complications of heart surgery at Lankenau Hospital. He was 82.

While I met him after we both received job appointments by incoming Mayor Frank Rizzo (in 1972), Harry primarily was known for his prior posts as City Editor of both the Philadelphia Inquirer and Philadelphia Daily News.

For the most part, my contact with Harry came when he would come once a month to the Philadelphia Civic Center where I was Executive Director. He sometimes would attend the monthly Board meetings at the Civic Center.

As Director of Commerce, he spent far more time at the Philadelphia International Airport, where he was instrumental in finishing the $300 million modernization program there.

He quit the cabinet position with Mayor Rizzo four days after a dispute with the Mayor about union picketing outside the newspapers’ building on Broad Street. An estimated 250 labor union members were protesting what they considered unfair articles about the Mayor.

Harry subsequently became Vice President of Public Affairs for ARA (now known as Aramark).

Harry received a journalism degree from Temple University, and he was a teacher of sorts as newspaper editor. He was of the “old school” of journalists who knew and stressed proper grammar and word usage. Today’s papers are sprinkled with grammatical errors and the like and could benefit from a Harry Belinger-type editor.

I was on the receiving end of one example of his teaching, and I have appreciated what he did ever since. In speaking with him on the phone one day, I said that somebody (the subject of our conversation) “inferred” that he approved whatever we had decided.

I don’t remember the subject, but Harry quickly interjected: “No, he did not infer. He implied. You inferred.” He went on to explain the difference. I think Don Imus, radio star in New York, probably encountered a Harry Belinger somewhere along in his radio career, as Imus took pains on the air on more than a few occasions to outline somebody’s implication and his inference. I wish I would have heard Don Imus before that day on the phone with Harry! However, Harry, still wearing his editor’s eyeshade, so to speak, was both friendly and helpful with his correction. I am pleased to say it was the only time he corrected me!

His wife, Jean, died in 1998. He is survived by their daughter (Lizanne R. Hayes) and two grandchildren. His obituary also listed as survivor his loving companion Rosemary Vickers.

In his obituary writeup, which he prepared for the newspapers five years before his death, he wrote: “Three lives and thoroughly enjoyed the career changes because each change was like being born again.”

Lolly Pannella

Lolly Pannella, my business partner for 30 years, died in her sleep Friday evening, September 18, 2009. Members of her family were with her. Her published obituary is at the end of this post.

Lolly lived only 71 years and exactly seven months. But she poured an active life into this span, a multi-career woman. She was a hard worker throughout her careers, starting as a young woman as a cosmetologist. Those who knew her knew it: hard worker. She was active until lung cancer and liver cancer and their complications slowed her down, requiring several hospital stays, the last being three weeks before her death.

She and I met as a result of our separate contacts with Philadelphia Police Commissioner Frank Rizzo.

Commissioner Rizzo won the Democratic Party nomination for Mayor in May, 1971. At his invitation, I resigned my job as reporter at KYW-TV (now CBS3 in Philadelphia) and joined his campaign. He was elected Mayor in November.

Some people thought I got the greatest job in the campaign. It was my assignment to handle 32 women known as “Rizzo Girls”. Hold your excitement. It was not easy.

The Rizzo campaign manager (Al Gaudiosi) had initiated the efforts to get the Rizzo Girls by contacting a Philadelphia police detective, Frank Pacifico. Frank’s wife was among those selected. Lolly was her close friend and quickly agreed to be a Rizzo Girl, too.

I split the 32 women into eight crews of four each. Some assignments were cushy, but I tried to give each crew approximately the same number of each kind of event. Things went fairly well until a major Rizzo appearance at the Latin Casino. Gaudiosi felt it was appropriate to select Cass Pacifico’s crew as a reward for starting the whole project. Al told me that only four women could be assigned because of the special occasion it was.

Other Rizzo Girls screamed in protest. Lolly phoned me after the event to let me know there was trouble brewing. Rizzo Girls were threatening to quit. I told her what was done on the Latin Casino outing, and why, and Lolly assured me she would try to resolve the issues with the other women. She made a few phone calls, and everybody was happy.

A bullet dodged.

After Frank Rizzo was elected Mayor of Philadelphia, I was appointed by him as Executive Director of the Philadelphia Civic Center.

Only months after starting the job in January, 1972, I was in the middle of negotiations to bring a major league hockey team (Philadelphia Blazers) to the Civic Center (Convention Hall). In May of that year, Vineland trucking company owner Bernard Brown and Attorney Jim Cooper of Atlantic City obtained a franchise to play in Philadelphia starting in October that year. It was a new major league hockey team competing across town against the Flyers.

One of Lolly’s friends and also a Rizzo Girl, Carol Mignogna, was a huge hockey fan, and was very familiar with Bernie Parent, John McKenzie and Derek Sanderson, stars of the Philadelphia Flyers and Boston Bruins, and now with the Blazers. Jim Cooper was the idea man for the startup of the hockey team. One of his ideas was to have young women as ushers, replacing the men who served at the various Civic Center events.

The ushers union protested to me, and after a short war, the men agreed to accept the Blazers demands. The Blazers paid for bright new uniforms for both the men and newly-hired women. Jim Cooper asked me to set up the new “union” (I found out they really had not paid dues nor conducted any union business; it was informal and managed by the union president just so they could handle the work for events such as the Philadelphia 76ers and Ice Follies.)

Jim Cooper wanted a new operation for the ushers, much more identifiable with the Blazers. Carol Mignogna was asked but did not want to manage it. She said she only wanted to watch the games, not work at them. But Lolly was interested.

She formed the Ushering Service of Philadelphia and was the instant boss of 40 ushers. She handled the hiring of the young women (in the old days, you could say “girls”; most were in their ’20′s).

It often is said that success requires being in the right place at the right time. About the same time the new uniforms were first being used, in October of that year, the road manager of Ice Follies asked whether the Blazers would allow their uniforms to be used for the ice show in December. The Blazers agreed.

The road manager (Jerry Walser) during that summer was going to dismiss the woman he had in Philadelphia handling group sales for the ice show. While talking about the ushering arrangements with Lolly, he asked her if she was interested in the group sales job. She was.

So Lolly went from being unemployed (and not job-hunting) in May to having two jobs in the fall. It all stemmed from Frank Rizzo a year before. For the rest of her life, she was a busy woman.

She handled the ushering service even after the Blazers left town (after one year), and during the two years of play of the Philadelphia Firebirds minor league team. (The Firebirds’ General Manager was Robin Roberts, Phillies star pitcher two decades before.) Lolly handled Ice Follies group sales until the show moved to the Spectrum in the late 1970′s.

Both Lolly and I found ourselves out of our jobs at the end of Mayor Rizzo’s second term.

We soon pooled our interests and formed a travel and tour company in 1980, buying what formerly was a Philadelphia boutique (store). We handled all forms of travel, specializing in motorcoach tours. We hired our first employee in 1981. Part of the operation was a travel agency, which made it possible for us to offer cruises and other forms of travel to our motorcoach customers.

In 1986, we bought the first of five motorcoaches we used in the business. We bought the second three years later.

In 1989, we bought the building next door and expanded our staff further.

One of our employees was Marie Bosak, who worked part-time for us and part-time for TWA Getaway group sales. Marie summed up Lolly in the mid-1980′s: “When people sit down in that chair,” she said, pointing to the chair next to Lolly’s desk, “they buy!” Lolly energetically spoke with her customers, who could sense her enthusiasm for the planned trip.

We sold our last three buses at the end of 2004 as part of our plan to retire. Anytime Lolly would hint to a customer that we planned to close up shop, she would hear the wails of a pleading customer: please don’t retire, we NEED you!

In the next two years, we downsized, as the saying goes. We agreed that we should prepare for our retirement. However, in 2007, I needed treatments for prostate cancer and surgery for liver cancer, and during the four-month period, Lolly handled the office alone. Retirement had to be put on hold.

The process on planning to retire resumed in late 2007 as the two of us handled a reduced amount of business, taking care of our best customers, some of whom had been with us for more than two decades, again a tribute to Lolly and her ability to sell and win friends. We each worked in the office three days a week, with Wednesday being the day when we both were on the scene.

On Thursday, November 13, 2008, Lolly left for the day the same as always, not knowing she never would return. Two days later, on Saturday, she was hospitalized. The next day, Sunday, she learned of her cancers.

Soon thereafter, she told me I should proceed with our plans to retire and close up. She said quietly, “You know I won’t be back.”

She waged a courageous 10-month battle.

She was a good lady.

LORETTA J. PANNELLA “LOLLY” (Tirendi)

PANNELLA
LORETTA J. “LOLLY” (nee Tirendi) on Sept. 18, 2009 of Langhorne, PA. Beloved wife of Louis R. Pannella, loving mother of Louis Pannella and Michael (Erica) Pannella, loving daughter of Mary (nee Ruane) Tirendi and the late Anthony Tirendi, dearest sister of Anthony Tirendi, Lewis Tirendi, and Ginger Lorman. She is also survived by her one granddaughter Julia Rose. Relatives and friends are invited to attend her viewing Thursday, from 9:30 A.M. until her Funeral Mass 11 A.M. at The Church of St. Andrew, 81 Swamp Rd. Newtown, PA 18940. Entombment will be in Sunset Memorial Park, Feasterville. In lieu of flowers, contributions in her memory may be made to St. Mary Holistic Center, 215-710-6948.
www.fluehr.com

Radio Icon Paul Harvey

Paul Harvey, star network radio newscaster for decades, died Saturday, February 28, 2009, at 90. He was on the air within the past year; he was heard nationally for nearly 58 years, since 1951.

I met him six years later (1957).

It was during my year at the School of Journalism, University of Missouri, Columbia, MO. Every Spring, the Journalism School would sponsor “J-Week”, when classes were suspended in favor of students listening to a score or more of journalism professionals, experts in the field, pros who had “made” it. It was a terrific week.

One of my classes that spring was in radio news. I was an “intern” for the early morning newscasts on Radio Station KFRU. This was the same station I worked for each night from 6:00 to 11:00 p.m. It wasn’t fun getting up early but it helped me get through Journalism School in one year.

Among the guest speakers for J-Week was Paul Harvey.

I was told I would assist him in his preparation of his morning newscasts on ABC Radio coast-to-coast. I was told to be there (at the downtown newspaper newsroom from which the newscasts were aired) at 5:00 a.m., a bit tough for somebody who worked till 11:00 p.m. No way he was going to be there at 5:00 a.m., but I was a student. What could I say ??

I got there about 4:55 a.m. and Paul Harvey was waiting for me.

He was about 38 years old at the time, but like most “elders”, to a young guy he seemed like 60. As you might expect, he was all business. He wanted me to sort the copy from the news services, and all I had to do was watch him work. He had gobs of blank newsprint paper. He wrote his copy on this stuff.

To me, the irony was to see how this radio newscasting star prepared his copy. Every story was on a separate sheet of paper. Some of the stories were hardly more than one line long, but I realized this was the “style” his listeners easily tuned to.

He also wanted me to locate all the “kickers” I could find. Wire services often lumped kickers into a single dispatch. A kicker was a funny news story.

He would close his newscasts with a kicker. He always led it off ….. “For what it’s worth”…… Sometimes he would call it “our ‘for what it’s worth’ department”.

Knowing how unfunny the kickers were that morning, I thought he would start hollering at me for not finding at least one good kicker.

I soon got a liberal education in radio journalism, Paul Harvey Style. Paul Harvey took one of the unfunny stories and made it funny. And he always could get away with it, with that two-second pause after he uttered the punch line: “Paul Harvey…………… Good Day!!!”

I was so pleased and frankly honored that I had been selected to be his intern that morning.

His appearance in Columbia climaxed with his speech at the noon luncheon that day. He was one of the J-Week star pros.

Paul Harvey gave a great speech. He was already considered “conservative” and for some at the already liberally-tinged J-School, he was off his rocker. And because he was perceived as somewhat of a comic and cynic on his radio broadcasts, he surprised. He presented a clear description of the waste in government (yes, they even had it way back then) and the various hypocrisies in the news of the day. His audience discovered a conservative is not a whacko.

When he finished, he got a standing ovation.

Dean Earl English then came back to the microphone to thank Paul Harvey, and he brought down the luncheon when he said, rather sheepishly: “There were some of us who weren’t sure about inviting Mr. Harvey, but I must say, after listening to him today, I don’t know how we could have thought anything like that.”

Paul Harvey. Good Day!!!!

James D. Murphy, Jr.

My brother-in-law in Lakewood, Colorado, died New Year’s Day… January 1, 2006. Jimmy was a good man. A military funeral was conducted last Friday at Fort Logan. And there was a memorial service at Church of the Hills in Evergreen, Colorado, Saturday afternoon. Both Lakewood and Evergreen are suburbs of Denver; Evergreen is about 15 miles up into the mountains west of Denver. Lakewood is next door to Denver.

At the military funeral, family members observed the flag presentation protocol. A United States flag drapes the casket of a deceased veteran to honor his/her service to the country. The ceremonial folding and presentation of that flag is a moving tribute of lasting import to the veteran’s family.

The flag is placed so the union blue field is at the head and over the left shoulder of the veteran. After the playing of Taps, the flag is carefully folded into the symbolic tri-cornered shape. It then is presented as a keepsake to the next of kin or an appropriate family member.

At Jim Murphy’s military funeral, two soldiers folded the flag, and a third officer presented it to my sister, Joan (pronounced joh-ann). The protocol provided that the presenter stood facing the recipient (Joan) and held the folded flag waist high with the straight edge facing her.

In the ceremony, the officer leans toward the recipient and solemnly presents the flag. Each branch of service uses a slightly different wording for the flag presentation.

On January 6, 2006, the officer said to Joan: “This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation and the United States Army as a token of appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”

If the next of kin has expressed a religious preference or belief, as Joan had, the soldier adds: “God Bless You and this family, and God Bless the United States of America.”

The flag is now encased at Joan’s home in Lakewood.

At Fort Logan that day, an estimated 30 funerals were scheduled at the rate of two per hour. Normally, taps is heard from a bugle recording inside the bugle; most times, those attending the funeral are unaware that the soldier with the bugle is not playing. In the case of Jim Murphy, the bugler played Taps “live”; it was not a recording. After the service, Jim’s daughter Jan asked the bugler if, in fact, he had performed a recorded version. No, said the soldier, I came today to play. He said his mother had died two weeks before, and he was performing “live” as an additional special memorial to his mother.

There was another incident, too. As the family walked to their cars, Joan was stopped before getting into her car. She was told the soldiers would like to have the flag back. The soldiers were not satisfied with their fold, and wanted to re-complete it. This they did.

At the memorial service Saturday, The Reverend Phil Price offered the following comments in the category entitled “Reflections on a Christian Life”.

Jim was born in St. Louis, the eldest of five children.

In high school, Jim took part in Track and with the Debate Team. He was an Honor Roll student. He was chosen to serve as the “City Attorney” when the high school seniors were invited to fill the St. Louis city offices for a day. Jim’s mother became ill when he was 13. She died when Jim was 18. At the time Jim was attending St. Louis University, working toward degrees in Accounting and Law. Due to the family situation, his father asked him to seek a full-time job to help raise the other four children. This he did. And World War II was looming on the horizon. During this time he met Joan Pierron (MY SISTER) at Epworth League at the Maple Avenue Methodist Church. They were married in 1940. Jim was working as an Insurance Underwriter then. His aunt and uncle encouraged him to put his name in for a position with the U. S. Post Office.

Later, when he was in France in a foxhole on the bank of the Moselle River, he was notified that he had been promoted to Regular Clerk in a letter delivered by the (military) company clerk who crawled up to him. Jim was a Master Sergeant in the 1117th Combat Engineer Group. He served in the service three years.

Jim worked for the U. S. Postal Service for 30 years, holding positions from Clerk to Acting Assistant Supervisor of Personnel to Station Manager. He retired after serving as Manager of the Highlands Station Post Office in Denver.

What brought him from St. Louis to Denver? In 1957, he and Joan had a major decision to make. They moved to Denver and later to Mount Evans Lane in Idledale, about seven miles “below” Evergreen in the mountains west of Denver. The move was precipitated by health reasons for himself and oldest child, son Randy, who suffered from hayfever in the St. Louis climate. Moving to the mountains proved a great help. In fact, the hayfever never again was a problem.

While in Idledale, Jim served as Chairman of the Water Board, and after that he always was interested in water issues. Jim enjoyed trains and studied railroad management and advancement. He was an avid newspaper reader and paid close attention to local and world news.

At Church of the Hills, Jim was an Elder, and he and his wife, Joan, were active in the Presbyterian Mariner organization, holding the office of President (Skipper) several times from 1960 to 1990. Mariners was a great enrichment to Jim’s life.

Jim and Joan have three children: Randy, Jan and Jacques, and four grandchildren: Colin, Patrick, Austin and Sean, and four great-grandchildren: Stephanie, Ben, Katie and Nicole. Jim and Joan joined Church of the Hills in 1958. Their son Jacques was baptized at Church of the Hills in 1959 as were two of their grandsons, Colin, in 1968, and Sean, in 1990.

Jim enjoyed recently (just before Christmas, 2005) seeing his daughter Jan interviewed on TV about the book which was just published: OUTLAW TALES OF COLORADO.

Jim had an 87-year-long successful life as a citizen and a servant of the Lord.

This was the end of the Reflections by The Reverend Phil Price.

The memorial service included a service-opening violin solo by grandson 15-year-old Sean Murphy and a marimba solo by his 18-year-old brother Austin. Both are sons of Jacques Murphy, who now live in Atlanta.

My sister had a wonderful husband. All of us already miss him.

Alan Halpern

The Philadelphia Daily News yesterday (Wednesday, December 14, 2005) reported the death of Alan Halpern, the long-time editor of PHILADELPHIA MAGAZINE. The obituary on Page 32, in a featured article, said Alan died Tuesday after a lengthy illness. He was 79.

The article ran two columns, full page. It noted how nothing was sacred or off limits to the magazine. He served from 1951 to 1980, taking the magazine from a Chamber of Commerce mouthpiece to a publication that grabbed many local institutions by the scruff of the neck and gave them a good shaking.

Said the Daily News: “It (PHILADELPHIA MAGAZINE) practically shut down the Pearl Buck Foundation for mismanagement and sent Philadelphia Inquirer reporter Harry Karafin to prison for extortion.”

The latter story was so remarkable, my station, KYW-TV, assigned me to cover the Harry Karafin trial, which ran for two full weeks. It was my assignment (from station management) to report the day’s court developments for TWO FULL MINUTES on the six o’clock news every night.

I met Alan Halpern once. In April, 1970, we were both selected to be two of five representatives from Philadelphia to fly on the so-called inaugural flight of Pan American’s FIRST 747. Yes, the big jumbo jet. Alan and I and one other Pan Am invitee were taken by big long limousine from Philadelphia to JFK International, Jamaica, NY. We were treated royally.

We were seated together on the plane. Row 6. And this is the main reason I am noting his passing. The qualities described in his obituary were evident to me in that one night with him. The obituary quoted from an Inquirer description of him as “shy and soft-spoken”, a cigarette addict who seemed to hide in a cloud of smoke”.

I do not recall that he smoked. What I remember is how frightened he was. He was terrified of the thought that this was the first flight of a 747. In addition, he did not like it one bit that he could not see the right wing of the plane. We were seated so far forward, we couldn’t see the wings.

Because it was obvious he was in a panic, I told him I would check things out for him. I left my seat for a minute, walked back in the plane until I could see the right wing.

I returned to my seat and told Alan the wing is about one-third back on the fuselage, but very definitely there. He seemed to appreciate the important tidbit.

Later, he became concerned because we didn’t leave on time. So, because the pre-flight time was quite casual (no security in those days!), we walked to the area just behind the pilots, whose cockpit door was open. The pilots seemed to be quite busy checking their instruments, and Alan was especially concerned that the departure time already had passed. One of the pilots turned around and smiled.

This made Alan feel alot better.

He asked a crew person (possibly the same stewardess, I do not recall) if this really is to be the first 747 flight.

“Oh, yes,” he was told. “The first WITH PASSENGERS. This crew already has flown back and forth to Paris about 20 times.”

Alan returned with me to Row 6. The plane backed away from the gate 45 minutes late. Alan Halpern enjoyed the flight, especially the landing in Paris. It felt as though a feather had touched the runway.

What a great airplane! What a nice man.