CAUSE AND AFFECT

In 1960, shortly after the major construction of our nations interstate highway system mandated by Dwight Eisenhower, the population of the United States stood at 179,323,175. In the year 2000 our population was 281,421,906 and rising, an increase of over ONE HUNDRED MILLION! And we wonder why our bridges and roads are in such a sorry state. When I was in school during the early 70's, environmentalism and conservation were just starting to take root. People began to realize that a particular portion of land could only sustain so many people. As students, we were taught by those early idealists that one way to help save the Earth was through population control. A net growth of zero being the target. Have just enough babies to replace the people who passed away. We were taught that as Americans it was our moral duty to have small families. Many of us bought into this. But herein lies the problem. While we were doing our civic duty by having smaller families in hopes of saving some of America's natural beauty for future generations, our politicians, motivated by corporate greed, opened the floodgates of immigration in 1965 and kept them open. This supplied the corporations with a steady source of cheap labor and competition for the native born in order to keep wages artificially low. Where are these environmenaltist now? Why are they not hemming and hawing over the strain that this steady stream of immigration puts on our natural resources. Almost any problem you can point to today has its roots in over population. Transporation infrastructure? Well, more heavy trucks needed to haul goods to a larger consumer base. Traffic jams and road rage? One hundred million more people on our roads will tend to aggravate anyone. Skyrocketing health care costs? The medical industry has to make up for the losses incured by treating the uninsured somewhere. I will issue a challenge. Mention almost any problem our country is facing today, and I guarantee I will invariably be able to trace its origin to overpopulation due to our insane immigration policies.

James J. Calautti

REFLECTIONS ON CHE GUEVARA

Today, many Latinos wear the iconic figure of Che Gueverra on t-shirts and other items. Yet these Latinos are here in America. They obviously know nothing of the man. Che was a Latin American revolutionary. He would have never sold out to come work for the Americans whom he blamed for much of the problems of his countrymen. No, Che was a man of action and ideals. He wanted to improve the living conditions of Latinos where they lived. He would have labled as traitorous those who would come to America for financial gain. Che saw that to empower his people, it had to be done on their soil. And that is why we have such an immigration problem today. Latinos do not care about their homelands. If the money is to be made in America, that is where they will head. This is not revolutionary thinking. This is capitalist selfishness taken to the exteme. If those Latinos put as much effort into improving their own countries, they would not have to infringe on the American citizenry. So to all young Latinos who wear the iconic image of Che on their shirts, take a que from your supposed hero, and do as he did.

Che was a medical doctor who could have lived the easy life, but he believed in what he fought for. A Latino population that could care and provide for itself. If you truly harbor "Latino Pride", be a man and return to your country of origin. Do what you can to fight for justice and equality in your homeland. Try to pull your people up from the corruption and ineptitude that has held your people back for so long. Real Latinos would not be sitting in New York or Miami playing X-box. They would be fighting in the streets of Rio and Panama City to overthrow the yoke of tyranny. Do not look to me or other Americans for sympathy. Our forefathers spilled their blood to break the yoke of dependence and struck out to make a better life for themselves. Now you come here to enjoy those rights paid for in the blood of others. This is cowardice on a grand scale such as the world has never seen. Let others do the hard work of revolution and nation building, and then move in as squatters, sucking off the life blood of another nation like leeches. Groups like La Raza sicken me. They say they fight for their people, well do it where it will count, on Latino soil. Then maybe you will earn some respect.

James J. Calautti

IS DEMOCRACY DEAD?

Government of the people, by the people, for the people. It is a hoax. We are now simply governed. It may have been true at one time when men of great fortitude entered political life for altruistic reasons. But those days are long gone. Government is no longer representative of the general populace. The masses are simply a commodity for capitalist exploitation. The time is nigh that we give serious thought to throwing off the yoke of a tyrannical government that can not be voted out. Yes, I am tossing down the guantlet and calling for the overthrow of the United States government. Mr. Bush and his Senate cronies from both parties have shown that on issues from the war in Iraq to immigration to health care to the offshoring of OUR jobs that our opinion is of no concern to them. They are the ones who are TREASONOUS. Before we are completely sold out and our nation balkanized for the sake of cheap labor it is time to clean house. From the local town hall to the White House we need to make a clean sweep. If it takes the threat of violence, or violence itself, so be it. As Mao Tse Tung said "Real power comes from the barrel of a gun". And as Thomas Jefferson said in the Declaration of Independence "Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness."

THANK YOU VETERANS!

On this Veteran's Day, with a whirlwind election behind and Thanksgiving coming up fast upon us, PLEASE remember to bow our heads to our Heavenly Father in respect of all those who have served their country in uniform and made the ultimate sacrifice that we may live free. From the Minutemen at Breed's Hill to our forces in Afghanistan and Iraq, our way of life is paid for with their blood. Instill in your children a respect for these men. Read to them at least one story of heroism from our glorious past. Make them see that freedom does not come cheap. Visit Arlington Cemetary or the Kearny War Memorial. Make them read the names on the rock of all the young men of Kearny who died in WWII. Sit with them through a History Channel Documentary on at least one episode of American Heroism. Let them know that 72 American POW's were slaughtered at Malmaday by the Germans. Explain to them the death march from Bataan. If they express an interest in joining the Military, do not disuade them. Allow them to continue in this honorable tradition and feel the pride of having served their country. Our leaders of the future should know the terrible price of war, that they may not be so quick to send more young men and women into harms way except as a last resort. For those of you who fought in the past so that facism was defeated I thank you from the bottom of my heart. For those of you serving now, I salute you....Carry On.


James Calautti

THE EMASCULATION OF THE AMERICAN MALE

Has anyone noticed how many commercials appear on television lately touting cures for men suffering from “erectile dysfunction….commonly known as ED”? I mean, if a person were to judge our culture and society just by watching our television broadcasts, they would think you would not be able to find one American male who can perform sexually. It’s as if half the population is on Viagra or Cialis. I love how they invariably insert that warning, in that deep, important voice; “If you suffer an event of priapism (an erection lasting over four hours), call your doctor immediately”, as if they really care. That’s not a warning, it’s a selling point, and I believe it’s aimed more at women. I can just picture women all over America right now saying, “you’re going on that stuff tomorrow honey”. “But baby, I don’t have ED?” “I don’t care, you’re going on it”.

Also, when did American men become so dumb? Watching commercials, you would think the American male could not perform the most simple of tasks. How about that one where the guy is trying for like 15 minutes to put the stroller in the mini-van, then the mom walks around and zip, bam, the seats folded down, the strollers laying flat and the guy is standing there looking like an idiot. Then there are the men at home commercials. You will almost always see a woman hustling through a busy airport, dressed in a business power suit on the cell phone to her husband. The guy will always be holding a crying baby, while toddlers are wreaking havoc around him, the food is boiling over, and bubbles are coming out of the washer. When did this switcheroo take place? Remember the old commercials that always showed moms with mops and floors that shined like diamond, while Mr. Clean stood behind her (as if she really needed the help of a man to achieve such a simple task).

The commercials have changed just as society has. I suppose the influx of so many women into the workplace makes them a perfect target for marketers. If you want someone to buy your product you have to make them feel good about themselves. Did it have to be at the expense of American men though? I mean, there are still sinks to be fixed, flat tires to be changed and furniture to be moved. We must still be good for something? Oh yeah, four hour erections.

By James J. Calautti

ONCE A MARINE, ALWAYS A MARINE

Right now we have American men and women in uniform serving all over the world in all capacities. Some bear the brunt of our war on terror, while others provide humanitarian aid to people in the most God-awful places you could imagine. For many of those who serve, that desire does not stop after they are discharged. A while back I was fortunate enough to speak with a group of men who I was proud just to stand next to. These fellows were very congenial but also very humble when talking of their own deeds. The only time they became animated was when they spoke of the deeds of their comrades.

Kearny is lucky to have a detachment of the Marine Corps League stationed right here in town. They lease a house from the town located on Veterans Row and have turned it into a veritable museum of memorabilia and photographs. Commandant James J. Kelly, a combat veteran of the Battle of Hue City in Viet Nam and current leader of the local detachment was on hand during a recent weekend to answer some questions. When asked why men who have already served their country, many in combat missions overseas, wish to continue that service stateside, he responded typically with "Once a Marine, always a Marine". Asked about community service, Kelly stated "We award two scholarships annually of $500 apiece to Kearny High School seniors who have excelled scholastically and who usually have some connection to one of our members". He also explained their holiday season charity drive. "Members collect money outside of Shop-Rite and Stop-n-Shop and the money is given to local under-privileged families in the form of gift certificates for food or for toys for the children, this is different from the Marine Reserves Toys for Tots program, we are a separate entity, and we also feel that families need a decent meal as well as toys to enjoy the holidays". He also mentioned that "We are sending care packages to the troops in Iraq". These contain food items, toiletries, drinks, phone cards, sunglasses and anything else that may make the life of front line troops more comfortable.

In a cozy bar located in the building's basement, two other members, Sal Marotti and Ed Pflugi, both combat veterans of WWII, were excited to show off the many memorabilia items on the walls. Sal Marotti, the leagues "historian", pointed to a rifle on the wall. "That was taken during the Battle of Iwo Jima" he said. He was also adamant about pointing out that his friend, Ed Pflugi, "Is a winner of four battle stars, having fought on both Iwo Jima and Okinawa, and latter serving in China". Indeed, Ed's picture was on the wall in a faded page of a newspaper from 1942. Ed pointed out a Lebanese flag on the wall and said "That one is from the Marines who served there just before the barracks bombing".

The Marine Corps League was founded in 1923, though the Kearny Detachment was formed in April of 1976. It is a recognized veterans/military service organization and promotes the interests of the United States Marine Corps. They also assist veterans in a wide range of matters. Member William McDonogh explained "We work with local recruiters, talking to young men and women interested in joining the Marines". "We also run a bingo program for the Veterans Home in Menlo Park". They preserve the traditions of the Corps, and to that end are always interested in new members. Robert Gast, a longtime member, stated "We have recently singed up several members who are veterans of the Iraqi conflict". This should help insure their continuing survival.

In a time of millionaire ball players, filthy rich musicians, and spoiled actors with an ax to grind, it’s nice to know that one only has to look to our armed services to find men and women of honor and integrity.

By James J. Calautti

"PEACE ACTIVISTS" NOT VERY PEACEFUL

I thought peace activists were supposed to advocate….well, peace. Obviously, that must be the old version of the term, because what we have now are peace activists calling for, well, violence.

The 1976 Nobel Peace Laureate Betty Williams confessed she has a problem with non-violence. Why? It seems if she could she would "kill" President Bush. Not that the Nobel peace prize means much anymore, since it handed one out to PLO Terrorist Yasser Arafat in 1994. Addressing teens in Australia, the kids cheered as Williams stated "Right now, I would love to kill George Bush." The Australian media chalked it up to her "feisty Irish spirit". I myself would call it the behavior of a sociopath.

Meanwhile, America Online had some real doozies when it came to the report of an American soldier whose wife; sister-in-law and two sons were murdered in Eugene Oregon. I certainly hope Sergeant Leonid Milkin did not have to read these. Here are samples of what the "peace activists" wrote:

"Too bad the paid assasin [sic] wasn't home also…got what he deserved for serving an illegal government in an illegal war."

"Maybe he signed up for the wrong profession because who in their right mind would want to be an arm man? He should have studied harder in school and found a real job instead of joining the army. Be all you can be? Don't patronize me! People who join the army either have no education or come form small towns….he should blame himself for his family dying due to his lack of education."

This is the support our troops overseas are getting? I think Viet Nam vets had it better.

Then there is the entrepreneurial peacenick, Dan Frazier, who sells T-shirts with the names of soldiers killed in the war. One was Marine Corporal Scott Vincent, killed by a fanatical suicide bomber. The Marine's mother pleaded with Frazier to remove her sons name. But Frazier stayed true to his "pacifist feelings" and kept the name on.

Also in Boston, at a rally run by the Muslim American Society, a Jewish man who showed up with a video recorder was threatened and physically by the demonstrators from the "Religion of Peace". Seva Brodsky was accosted by pro-Hezbollah thugs who cursed him, tried to prevent him from filming, and grabbed at him. A rally marshal who was supposed to keep the peace told Brodsky "We can not guarantee your safety."

So these are the people who advocate peace, but peace for who?

James J. Calautti

LAST TIME THEY TRIED TO KILL THE PRESIDENT

This year we have seen Latino anger over American immigration policies erupt into street demonstrations that shocked many U.S. citizens. Illegal immigrants brazenly waved foreign flags and flew the flag of the United States upside down and beneath the foreign flag. Citizens who have held counter demonstrations such as the Federation for American Immigration Reform (FAIR) and local Minuteman organizations have been met with violent resistance on occasion. The reaction of Americans is surprising, as Latino violence against Americans is not a new phenomena. There have been several incidents of Latin Americans living in this country turning to violence and taking up arms in reaction to U.S. policy. The following is but one of them.

In 1898 America went to war with Spain, ostensibly over the sinking of the Battleship Maine in Havana Harbor, but in reality it was to crush the Spaniards brutal attempts to quell the rebellion of its Cuban colony. It would be ignominious to try to pass that off as the only reason America went to war. There were certainly economic aspirations. Spain as a world power was in its last death throes, but America was a world power on the rise, riding the tide of the industrial revolution. Senator John M. Thurston of Nebraska declared "War with Spain would increase the business and earnings of every American railroad, it would increase the output of every American factory, it would stimulate every branch of industry and domestic commerce."

Victory came quick with a stunning defeat of the Spanish Navy. America graciously granted Cuba its independence, but in our own self-interest we held onto the the island of Puerto Rico. It was seen as a gateway to the eastern approaches of what would soon be the crowning achievement of American ingenuity, the Panama Canal, and the U.S. Navy wanted to guard it tenaciously.

To placate the Puerto Rican people the U.S. Congress granted them full American Citizenship in 1917, erasing a border with a people with whom we really did not share a cultural background. After several decades over one-fourth of all Puerto Ricans were residing on the mainland. One of these transplanted Puerto Ricans was the illegitimate son of a wealthy trader for who an American official had arranged a scholarship in 1912.

Pedro Albizu Campos was a brilliant young man by any cultures standards. He attended Harvard and received a law degree from the same. Most people would assume that one so lucky as Pedro would come to love his adopted country which offered him so much opportunity. But as often happens, that was not to be. Campos became resentful. He became homesick. He also became our enemy.

Campos finally left America and returned home, where the charismatic young man began to speak out for Puerto Rican independence. He quickly rose through the ranks and became leader of the Nationalist Party. To his followers, he became known as "El Maestro", and when his bid to win election failed, "El Maestro" took the route so familiar to Latin American leaders, armed rebellion. When over a dozen of his commrades were killed in 1937, Campos was sentenced to 10 years in the Atlanta federal prison.

When Campos was released from prison, he returned to Puerto Rico and quickly went back to his old ways. Following another Latin American tradition, he planned a coup. It was to take place on Nov. 4, 1950. Just so the world would take notice of this small island nations struggle, the assasination of President Harry S. Truman was to take place the next day. Word got out early though, and their dastardly deeds came to light. A premature and bloody assault by the militants bogged down outside the Governor's Mansion, and loyal police officers surrounded "El Maestro" at his San Juan headquarters. Word got back to the "Nuyorican" sympathizers in Manhattan, which set off a deadly sequence of events in Washington, D.C.

Back in the U.S., especially in New York, Puerto Rican Nationalists were quite upset about the predicament that "El Maestro" was in, and they were going to do something about it.

The date is November 1, 1950 and the weather is unseasonably warm in Washington, D.C. At 2:20 P.M. President Truman is taking a nap in a second floor bedroom of Blair House, a guesthouse on the White House complex, as his regular quarters are being re-modeled. At this time two men in suits arrive at the scene with murderous intent. One, Griselio Torresola, is armed with a German Luger. His shorter accomplice, Oscar Collazo, carries a Walther P38, the type of handgun made famous by James Bond.

This operation was supposed to take place on Nov. 5, but events in Puerto Rico have moved the assassination attempt up. Torresola and Collazo are Nationalist operatives who have been in the U.S. for some time and have extensive firearms training. Perhaps events happening as they did may have thrown their plan off just ever so slightly. After arriving at Blair House the two quickly separate. Collazo goes to the steps of Blair House where he comes up behind Police Officer Donald Birdzell. He draws his P38 and attempts to fire. The gun jams. Collazo pounds it with his fist and as Officer Birdzell turns around he is shot through the right knee at close range. Secret Service Agent Floyd Boring and Police Officer Joe Davidson hear the shot and can see what's happening, but they are separated from Birdzell by a wrought iron fence. They both pull their weapons and take aim at the intruder. Agent Boring is one of the Secret Service's best shots and had recently qualified with an almost perfect score. Luckily for Collazo the hail of bullets ricochet off the iron fence. Birdzell has now gotten up on his wounded leg and starts firing at Collazo himself. Agent Boring takes dead aim at Collazo's head and squeezes off an almost perfect shot. The round pierces Collazo's hat but instead of punching through his skull, it tears a flesh wound through his scalp. Officer Davidson squeezes off a round that pierces the right side of Collazo's back and exits his chest, lodging in his right arm. Collazo's gun is empty, and he sits down on the steps of Blair House to reload.

By now his comrade, Torresola, joins the fray. He comes upon a small guardhouse where Police Officer Leslie Coffelt sits. Coffelt sees Torresola and goes for his gun but it's too late, the assassin pumps four shots from his Luger, three of which hit Coffelt in the torso. Torresola rushes towards his prime objective, Blair House and the President. He is blocked by Police Officer Joe Downs, but like Coffelt he can't get to his gun in time. Torresola hits him in the hip, then two more shots rip into his chest and neck. Downs is out of the fight and Torresola keeps moving. He now runs into Birdzell, the first officer shot in the leg by Collazo. Torresola raises his gun and fires, hitting Birdzell in his other leg, felling him to the ground and taking him out of the action. As Birdzell lay unconscious on the pavement Torresola moves in to finish him off, but he is out of ammo. He reloads and continues on towards Blair House.

Oscar Collazo has also reloaded, but his wounds get the best of him and he falls unconscious to the ground. He is now out of the fight, but Torresola moves forward. He gets to within 30 feet of President Truman. Truman is now awake, startled by the gunfire. He comes to the bedroom window and looks down. He sees Torresola, which means Torresola can see him. It should be an easy shot, but he won't get to take it. Leslie Coffelt, who had been shot three times and is dying, takes aim. He drills a shot straight through Torresola's head, killing him. Coffelt draws a few last breaths and dies himself. The entire battle lasted less then a minute and about 30 shots have been fired.

This was not an isolated incident. In 1954 four Puerto Rican Nationalists attacked the U.S. House of Representatives, wounding five lawmakers. During the 70's the FALN (Armed Forces of National Liberation) committed over 100 bombings. One in New York in 1974 killed four people.

All this violence from an island of only 4 million people who were granted U.S. citizenship. Imagine what will happen if we grant citizenship to 20 million people and they don't get what they want.

James J. Calautti

HOW SECURE ARE WE?

Are we safe? That question is very relative and depends on many factors. Recently the FBI uncovered a plot that involved explosives, martyrdom and suicide bombers wishing to strike a blow at America's economic heart; Wall Street. The suspects felt that bombing the PATH Tunnels under the Hudson River would flood downtown Manhattan.

Since 9/11 Americans have been focused on security like never before. However, what is really being done? The terrorists on 9/11 targeted office workers, and office buildings can be very inviting targets. The attitude at office buildings has changed dramatically. Even before 9/11 the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center woke many people up to our vulnerabilities, and the bombing of the Federal building in Oklahoma City more than drove the point home. Today, getting into an office building can be tougher than boarding an airplane.
For now let us focus on The Gateway Center, an office complex in the downtown area of Newark It is New Jersey's largest city. The complex is connected physically to Newark Penn Station, a transportation hub of major importance to the area. This complex is representative of many of today's office complexes, there are office spaces, but they are mixed with stores in a mall like setting and there are pedestrian walkways and mass transit connections, much like the World Trade Center was. While primarily police of both New Jersey Transit and the Port Authority patrols the rail and bus station, the complex itself has its own security. Gateway Security hired by Prudential provides this service. Some of the personnel are unarmed security people, but off duty police officers are also hired and they are armed. They also bring years of experience to the job. According to unnamed sources, extensive background checks are done on all potential security employees. To actually enter office space within the complex, all workers must possess a company I.D. card and scan it before entering a turnstile. Visitors must be cleared by an actual employee of a tenant of the building, who then must personally come and sign the visitor in and escort the visitor to his or her specific destination. The visitor's baggage is screened via X-ray, and the person must walk through a detection device similar to those at most courthouses. If they set off an alarm, a "wand check" is done, ensuring no weapons are brought in. Truck deliveries must be cleared at a checkpoint and verified by the tenant. Trucks are inspected inside and out and a mirror is used to search the undercarriage of the vehicle. Physical barriers are also in place that would discourage the parking of a vehicle outside the buildings at sensitive areas. It appears that security at this complex has been greatly enhanced.

Apart from feeling safe at work, there is the matter of getting to work. Many of us have seen the footage coming out of Israel and now Europe of buses and trains being mangled by suicide bombers. The once tranquil ride to work on the bus or train can be a stressful experience. Two of the major agencies involved in this business have been quite forthcoming in providing information on upgrades that have been made to keep us all a bit safer on that ride.

Dan Stessel, a Public Affairs Officer and security expert at New Jersey Transit was very willing to talk about the upgrades made since 9/11. In addition to hiring more officers and tripling K-9 units, Mr. Stessel stressed "the entire mission of our force has changed. Whereas before we were concerned with asset protection, we are now focused on anti-terrorism and commuter safety". Mr. Stessel explained that security is now "layered", relying on police, technology, employees and the commuters themselves. Their budget has gone from 13 million dollars to 30 million dollars per year and federal grants have been received to enhance technological advancements. Mr. Stessel stressed, "not only do our police officers receive security training, but that it extends to all our employees". Some of the grant money for technological advances have been used to install surveillance cameras on train platforms, but when pressed on whether the buses might present a weak link and easy target for terrorists, Mr. Stessel stated that "our buses are routinely patrolled by undercover and uniformed officers, our drivers are trained to spot suspicious activity and a customer based alert system has been attempted to be implemented, whereby commuters can work together with our employees and we have also initiated a toll free number for people to call to report any activity that may seem out of the ordinary".

Tony Ciavolella of Port Authority's PATH system said "2.3 billion dollars have been spent system wide since 9/11". He also stated "over 300 new officers have been added to our police force, and they all receive specialized training in anti-terrorism and commuter safety". Mr. Ciavolella also pointed out "the K-9 unit has been increased as have patrols on the PATH system". PATH stations are also monitored by closed circuit television, and all have phones that allow commuters to call PATH employees on duty.

The Department of Homeland Security is also testing new explosive detection technology at PATH's Exchange Place terminal. The program will screen commuters without each person having to pass through a detection device. If successful, the system could be installed system wide. The Port Authority's PATH transit service carries over 67 million people per year. That's 215,000 passengers each weekday. Seventy percent of all rail passengers entering Manhattan during rush hour from New Jersey are PATH passengers. Over 1,000 trains per day travel PATH's 43.1 miles of track.

It appears the agencies entrusted with our safety take their jobs very seriously, but how do the people think they are doing their jobs. To get a feel for that we need to talk to the men and women who commute on a daily basis. Ms. Claudia McPherson of Belleville who travels to Manhattan by New Jersey Transit bus every workday said "while I know improvements have been made, I just don't see it, and it makes me a little wary". Juan Munoz, of Kearny, rides New Jersey Transit regularly and said, "I feel that they do as good a job as is possible under the circumstances".

The agencies entrusted with our safety certainly take their task seriously, and are implementing changes and spending the money to make us as safe as they can, but the public does not seem to see this, and therefore are not comforted by these changes. To answer the question of are we safe, it seems impossible to ever be 100 percent secure against a determined foe willing to die to achieve his objective. However, there are many people hard at work behind the scenes attempting to make that objective much harder to achieve.

By James J. Calautti

THE OTHER GENERAL KEARNY

Almost everyone who lives in Kearny has heard of our town's namesake, General Phillip Kearny, the "One Arm Devil" of Civil War fame who died in action at the Battle of Chantilly. But Phillip Kearny was just one of many distinguished members of a family of Irish immigrants known in the old country as "O'Kearny". This is the story of the other General Kearny.

Steven Watts Kearny was born in Newark, New Jersey on August 30, 1794. Kearny attended public schools and spent two years at Columbia College before leaving to join the Army when hostilities broke out with England in the War of 1812. During this war Lieutenant Kearny was wounded, captured and briefly imprisoned, and was promoted to captain due to his bravery. After the war Kearny remained in the Army where he lived an exceedingly adventurous life.

After the war Kearny was sent to the Western Frontier where he engaged in many expeditions, especially exploring the Yellowstone River. He studied the geography of the area, learned the true course of rivers and updated the maps of that period. He was well liked by the Indian tribes he encountered and sat at many council meetings with them. While a fine soldier, Kearny learned early the importance of diplomacy, tact and the art of communication.

While stationed in Missouri, Kearny was often invited to St. Louis as a frequent guest of General William Clark, of Lewis and Clark Fame. It was here that he met his future wife, Mary Radford, the stepdaughter of Clark. They were married in 1830 and had 11 children.

Sent to Fort Leavenworth, Kearny undertook a new field of endeavor, organizing a regiment of dragoons, which are like a cavalry unit. Today, Kearny is looked upon as "The Father of the U.S. Cavalry".

When the Mexican War broke out, Kearny was appointed commander of the Army of the West by President Polk and led an expedition to occupy New Mexico and California. He quickly took control of New Mexico without any bloodshed in August 1846 and was named military governor headquartered in Santa Fe. After about a month in Santa Fe, Kearny set out with a small band of 300 soldiers to California. Faulty intelligence in the form of a dispatch delivered by horseback informed the expedition that California had been secured. Two hundred men returned to Santa Fe and Kearny pressed on with only 100 troops. The small band of men suffered heavy casualties, especially at the battle of San Pascual. The soldiers were able to link up with naval forces from San Diego under the command of Commodore Robert Stockton. After the joint forces fought several skirmishes near Los Angeles in January 1847, the Mexican forces had surrendered. A controversy then arose as to who would be the military governor of California. The post eventually was granted to Kearny. From California, he was sent to Mexico where he briefly served as governor of Vera Cruz and Mexico City. While there, he contracted a tropical disease and upon his return to St. Louis he died on Oct. 31, 1848. General Kearny built more frontier posts then any other man of his time, led some of the longest marches in American military history, and brought order to a vast frontier that spread a growing nation from ocean to ocean, straddling an entire continent.

The Kearny name is now the place name of several locations in the United States, some honoring Phil Kearny and others honoring his uncle Steven. Some use the misspelling of "Kearney", which can be traced to a clerical error in 1849 at the Postal Service while Fort Kearney, Nebraska was still active.

James J. Calautti

TERROR IN THE TOWERS

This July 4th it is time to think of the many sacrifices of those who came before us in order that we may live in peace and freedom. My gratitude is especially with our troops who battle our enemies overseas, that we may not have to battle them here. I also think of the many brave men and women on the homefront who protect us daily as police and firemen and EMS crews. May we especially never forget those brave people who on September 11, 2001, rushed into a mangled skyscraper to save the lives of those they did not even know. The main text of the following eyewitness account appeared last year in both The Observer and the Kearny Journal

"Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for though art with me" Psalm 23

This July 4th brings to mind for me the attack on the World Trade Center and I pause to think back on that fateful day. I am a Port Authority employee and at the time and had been working in the building for about eight years. I've lived in Kearny all my life and as an adolescent I watched those towers rise back in the seventy's. Unfortunately I also saw them come down. To those of us who worked there they were more than just mere buildings, we felt very privileged to have been employed there. I could think of no better place to work at the time, and that was how I was feeling when I was at my desk on the 72nd floor at 8:47 A.M. on September 11, 2001. The following is a diary of my thoughts and memories of the horrific events of that day:

I am now a firm believer in the idea of fate. What will be will be; guided by the hand of God and unalterable by man. On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I made the fateful decision to arrive at work early, 8:30 A.M. as opposed to 9:00 A.M., at my office on the 72nd floor of One World Trade Center. It was a decision that put me at ground zero of the most horrific act of terrorism ever perpetrated on humanity. It was also a decision that in all probability saved my life. Had I headed to work at the usual hour, I very likely would have been caught in an elevator on my way upstairs, only to perish in the tumultuous crumbling of Tower One which I later saw and now have etched onto my wounded memory.

What had started as a beautiful day now had become a nightmare. At 8:47 A.M. my world was literally blown apart. When the first plane hit I thought it was an earthquake, it was that strong. We were up so high that on a normal day when I looked out the window all I saw was sky. To see the roofs of the other buildings you had to go right up to the window and look down. Now I was seeing those same rooftops but I was still at my desk. That is how much the building swayed. I thought we were going to topple over right then and there. But then everything went quiet. A thousand thoughts raced through my head as to what had just happened. My stomach was in my throat and I was nearly paralyzed with fear. It quickly became meaningless as to what happened, now my thoughts were to just get out of there. I heard my supervisor yell "come on, let's go!" and I snapped back to reality, one I did not want to be in.

The orderly conduct of the other Port Authority employees and the directions of the building managers were very reassuring. Unfortunately, many of those around me had been through this before back in 1993. We headed down the stairwell and a slightly light hearted attitude took over. Everyone was very helpful to each other, those who seemed to be taking it worse then others were comforted and pushed ahead. We even had a blind woman in our midst. I was quite surprised by the lack of smoke and how well the emergency lighting worked. I guess the lesson from the last bombing was learned well. Our progress was rather slow, though considering our situation, anything less than an all out sprint seemed slow. Many times we had to make room for the wounded being helped down. I saw some people who were severely burned. We also had to stop often to make room for the firefighters to get past us on their way up. That is something that will always haunt me. As I was fleeing this building in terror, these brave men were headed into the heart of it. I remember how young they looked, mostly in their twenties, but with a smattering of older fellows who I assumed were the supervisors. I thought of their wives and children who were watching this unfold on the news. I now know that most of the police and firefighters I saw that day was their last. Enough can never be said of their heroism. Just the sight of them being so professional was very comforting. God bless them all.

When we got to the skylobby on the 44th floor I exited the stairwell to take a small break and look out the window. It was at that moment that the other plane hit Building Two. The explosion was so severe that it shook our building again quite aggressively and I saw flames shoot past. The light hearted mood quickly dissipated. Now all I wanted was to be out of that building. At one point I started counting the floors. Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen and so on. It gave me hope to track my progress. Once through the teens I knew I was home free. But the adventure in horror wasn't over.

We exited the stairwell and were greeted by the sight of the plaza. Days earlier I had been on a coffee break here with my friend and told her how lucky we were to work in such an idyllic setting. What I saw now was almost unrecognizable. It truly looked like a war zone. Many people, men and women, turned away in tears. Charred bodies and smoldering debris lay everywhere. I followed the directions of the police and guards through the mall under the plaza. I later learned one of the guards, a young man with four children probably not making much more than minimum wage didn't make it. He was such a nice fellow. Again, God bless you.

Once on the street many people froze at the sight of those magnificent towers now crippled with flames licking at their sides and black gaping holes. I then made another fateful decision. I got the heck out of there. Many people just milled about but I could sense that considerable damage had been done. The engineers who designed those buildings deserve credit. That they remained standing for so long saved many lives. The death toll could have been much higher. But getting out was not enough; you now had to get away. I had made about two blocks when Tower Two fell. I will never forget looking down a canyon like street in lower Manhattan and seeing a wall of smoke and debris heading towards me with people screaming and running. It was like being in a real horror movie. I ran as fast as I could but the cloud caught up to me. I was dazed and walked uptown with the other survivors. Like I said, fate is the work of God, and his guiding hand was definitely on my shoulder on September 11, 2001.

By James J. Calautti

I dedicate this story to a security guard I knew only as "Waldo". He was a pleasant young man working as a private security guard at One World Trade Center. He probably made no more that ten dollars an hour yet stayed at his post guiding people safely from the building. He left behind a wife and four children. God Bless You Waldo.

THE KEARNY MARSH, WHAT LEGACY WILL WE LEAVE

"They have ears yet can not hear, they have eyes but do not see" Ezekiel 12:2

In the middle of the greatest metropolis in the world, the Greater New York Metropolitan Area, lies a vast wilderness. The Hackensack Meadowlands. A great and diverse biosphere teeming with life and yet so few of us see it. Oh, we may see the tops of the cattails when we drive down the Turnpike, but how many truly take notice. A great struggle takes place here as the tide ebbs and flows to the cycle of the moon in an attempt to filter and cleanse itself and to defend itself from the ever threatening onslaught of man. This fight, this war, can be won, but we have to want to win it. We must stand vigilant against corporate greed. The ever churning machine that wants to pave over every parcel of land in the state for strip malls, expensive housing and office "parks" (an oxymoron if I ever heard one).

A giant step forward toward responsible stewardship of this precious oasis of nature in our midst was the creation of Dekorte State Park in Lyndhurst. The 110 acre site was chosen in the mid seventies and was selected to make people aware of the natural beauty of the wetlands and as a barrier to the threat of developers and their continuing plans for land filling and development. Special attention was paid to try to plant fauna that was native to the site and to create areas that more closely resemble what a tidal wetland should look like. Birdhouses were erected in many areas and enclosed lookouts give birdwatchers a place to remain out of site yet still enjoy the more than 250 species seen there and the 60 species that nest there. Dirt roads allow access and egress and a type of plank walk allows one to cross over the marsh. Trails are well marked and most of the site is accessible to the disabled.

The site is also home to the offices of the New Jersey Meadowlands Commission. This was tastefully constructed and includes a "marsh lookout building" on stilts that sits right over the water. Through the efforts of environmentalists and ordinary citizens (I often run into folks hauling out trash left behind by the less enlightened) a thriving habitat has been created for all to enjoy.

Of more immediate concern to me as a citizen of Kearny is the remediation and protection of the Kearny Marsh. I have always wondered why the Meadowlands of Kearny were never developed the way they were in Lyndhurst, Carlstadt, Moonachie and Rutherford. Those municipalities have hotels and sports complexes and other great tax ratables while Kearny sat ignored. Maybe it was all for the best. We now have a blank canvas which we can attempt to restore to a more pristine natural beauty. But work needs to be started quickly. A sampling of eight test pits dug in September 2003 found elevated levels of cadmium, chromium, copper, nickel, zinc, PCBs and pesticides. In fact the pesticide levels were in concentrations 10 to 1,000 times higher than ecologically acceptable. Groundwater quality was equally abysmal.

In 1978 a report by the New Jersey Audubon Society called the 370-acre Kearny Marsh "the best freshwater marsh in New Jersey". So what happened? A little history lesson of the region is needed. For me this gets personal, since I have traipsed and explored these lands since a young boy in the early and mid seventies. Back then we simply called it "the dumps". In the north east corner of this marsh lies the Keegan Landfill, which operated for approximately 50 years before being closed in 1970, though illegal dumping continued and most likely still occurs from time to time. Unlike the other 10 landfills that operated in the area which are hilly and steep, the Keegan Landfill remained relatively flat. The Keegan Landfill is a so-called orphan landfill because it cannot be traced to any company that could be held responsible for it's cleanup.
After a stint in the Marine Corps and some lapsed time I returned to "the dumps". What I found surprised me. This land hardly seemed to be a dump. I remember the seventies when household trash was clearly visible everywhere. Dolls heads, detergent bottles, plastic bags, diapers and all manner of humanly disposable waste were the norm. Now vegetation had taken hold and the vegetation was allowing a topsoil, albeit thin, to take hold, camouflaging the unsightly trash of the past. Rabbits ricocheted back and forth across the land. Raccoons and skunks ambled about. Huge muskrats built their reed homes in the marsh water. Turtles lazily sunned themselves on logs, not even bothering to move as I walked past. Mother Nature was reclaiming her turf. Wildlife was making a comeback. How could all this have happened in just 20 years? I was amazed at how much nature could mend itself if it was just left alone. What clinched it for me was a day in 1998 when my girlfriend and I were walking our dog along the marsh behind Gunnel Oval, along the old Erie Lakawana Rail Line. We liked to watch the snowy egrets and blue herons stalking prey on their long legs and see the ducks and geese glide across the water. Then something big caught my eye swooping low out of a tree. It was a large bird of prey, possibly a peregrine falcon, native to the area. For their to be top predators like these living here, there had to be a plentiful supply of good sized prey. I knew then in my heart that this place needed to be protected.

So how does one reclaim a highly toxic wetland? Nature. Petroleum wastes naturally degrade in wetlands due to microbial communities that establish themselves amongst the roots of plants associated with wetlands. This is nothing new. For years, those who keep aquariums know that aerobic bacteria is the best way to break down waste products that build up over time in an enclosed environment. Municipal wastewater treatment plants use much the same technology. These microbes also break down many volatile organic compounds.

This type of remediation requires much less maintenance (and thus less money) than mechanical treatment. Bacteria and plants work for free. It is also visually less invasive. The water flow can be done subsurface through a gravel bed which provides a much higher surface area for the bacteria to cling to and provides better treatment per square foot. Removal of benzene, toluene, ethyl benzene and xylene (BTEX) happens through aerobic biodegradation. Forced bed aeration can greatly speed this process. This system will usually need to be maintained for at least 50 years. It took a long time to degrade these areas to the point they are at now, it should thus not surprise us that cleanup will also take some time.

So what legacy will we leave our children and grandchildren? Some politicians have bandied about the idea of a golf course, though this hardly serves the greater good and enjoyment for the majority of the people. A natural park setting, bounded on the north by the old Boonton Line, to the east by the New Jersey Turnpike, to the west by the rail line adjacent to Gunnel Oval, which could be transformed into a "linear park" for biking and walking, and to the south by either Bergen Avenue or possibly even Harrison Avenue would show future generations our desire to protect our natural settings, and our respect for the land which we for so long abused. What legacy will we leave? Will we be proud of it? It is up to all of us.

James J. Calautti

WE CAN STOP ILLEGAL ALIENS

"In the first place we should insist that if the immigrant who comes here in good faith becomes an American and assimilates himself to us, he shall be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an outrage to discriminate against any such man because of creed, or birthplace, or origin. But this is predicated upon the man's becoming in very fact an American, and nothing but an American...

There can be no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but something else also, isn't an American at all. We have room for but one flag, the American flag, and this excludes the red flag, which symbolizes all wars against liberty and civilization, just as much as it excludes any foreign flag of a nation to which we are hostile...We have room for but one language here, and that is the English language...and we have room for but one sole loyalty and that is a loyalty to the American people."

--Theodore Roosevelt, 1919

What ever happened to America's "can do" spirit? That dogged determination that got us through World War II. The rugged individualism and work ethic that forged a continent into the mightiest nation on earth.

To hear our senators today, we may as well give up on stopping illegal immigration. There are too many here already. It can't be done. America can't survive without them. I suppose this is the type of leadership you get when it's bought and paid for by corporate money, but the American public deserves better. We can do something about the mess we are in due to the incompetence of our national leaders. While they wring their hands in Washington, D.C., people in the heartland are starting to make a difference.

Here is what one county in Ohio did to get a grip on the situation, and it works.

Most residents point to Sheriff Richard Jones for the turnaround. His success has made him the target of the mainstream media and open border proponents nationwide. He has also caught heat from the federal government, which claims he has no jurisdiction over immigration issues. Imagine that, a county sheriff catching heat for doing his job.

While Sheriff Jones may come off as a little gruff and the law and order type, he seems to have the support of the majority of the citizens of Butler County, though there are exceptions. Before implementing his crackdown on the hiring of illegal aliens, Sheriff Jones said he realized "Some people may not be aware of all the laws on the books." So Jones began a campaign aimed at rectifying that situation. He placed huge billboards on I-75 warning employers of the fines and potential jail time associated with the hiring of illegals. Jones also called for a boycott of business that hired illegal aliens. The citizens responded enthusiastically. Several businesses were cited and a raid captured many illegal aliens, most of who had warrants for felony crimes, or were repeat offenders. They now sit in Federal detention Centers. Of course, Jones caught some ire, especially from the Roman Catholic Church, whose priest saw his congregation drop by 75%. The ACLU filed several lawsuits on behalf of the illegal aliens. Of course the Feds came down with a heavy hand on Jones. But local ICE agents were more than happy to help Jones and do the job they were hired to do.

Jones certainly has the support of his constituents. Jobs for illegal aliens have ceased to exist in Butler County. Jones has become a local hero. According to resident Patrick Turner, construction jobs that paid $12.00/hr. now pay up to $20.00/hr. Turner also said "Many of my friends who were out of work, now have jobs."

When it comes to immigration, we would be wise to follow the standard set by President Eisenhower, "Is it good for America". In a bygone era, immigrants came to this country to become Americans. America was not just a place, it was an idea. More and more people are coming to this country for strictly economic reasons. They work hard for sure, but they send a lot of their money back home to family. Their big dream is to retire to their home country and have their Social Security checks forwarded to them. Well America is not the world's "Temp Agency".

James J. Calautti

MANHATTAN'S FIRST TERROR ATTACK

It was a beautiful morning in lower Manhattan. The sky was blue and the air was a crisp 69 degrees. You couldn't ask for a much more glorious day. Then the thunder of a terrible explosion. When the smoke clears the sights are hideous. A woman's head, still wearing a hat, comes to rest on a ledge of a Wall Street building. A man tries to crawl away from the center of the calamity; his feet have been blown off. A decapitated messenger lies on the sidewalk, still clutching his smoldering package.

September 11, 2001? No, this was the first terrorist attack on lower Manhattan, and it happened on September 16, 1920. The crime has gone unsolved till this day. Here are the details.

A horse-drawn cart plodded slowly west down Wall Street. It comes to a stop near Broad Street, outside the J.P. Morgan & Co. building. The clock of Trinity Church strikes noon. The street fills with brokers and office workers heading out for a bite to eat. At 12:01 the wagon, packed with 100 pounds of TNT, surrounded by 500 pounds of sash weights, explodes in a blinding light. The metal tears into the crowd like shrapnel. Glass shatters in a half-mile radius from the explosion. When the smoke clears the crowd that had been running in terror now returns to the scene. Many have to crawl over the bodies of the dead. What they see is the hideous sight described above. Forty people have been killed and over 200 wounded.

The government response was quick. Police and firemen quickly cleared the way for ambulances to get through. Troops that had been garrisoned at Governor's Island were dispatched and quickly double-timed up Wall Street with loaded rifles and fixed bayonets. The NYPD quickly gathered as much evidence as possible. A hoof from the horse that had deposited the wagon would prove the most intriguing.

One of the more amazing aspects of this story is the forensics used in a time before DNA and electron microscopes. With the help of veterinarians and wagon-builders, the NYPD were able to pretty much reconstruct the horse and wagon that delivered the bomb. The horse was described as a dark bay mare, fifteen years old, slightly over 1,000 pounds, with a long mane and white hairs on the forehead. The harness was an old, worn heavy wagon harness, with rings of brass, one broken. The wagon was of one and one-half ton capacity, striped black and white.

The NYPD checked nearly 5,000 stables along the Atlantic seacoast to track the horse and over 500 wagon manufacturers to track the wagon. The horseshoe provided the most clues, having the mark of the Horseshoers' Union and provided evidence that it was made by someone trained abroad. The police began to target immigrant farriers. They closed in on the De Grazia brothers who owned a smithy at 205 Elizabeth Street. They had them create a shoe and a defect in their anvil created an identical mark to one found on the shoe of the dead horse. One of the brothers said that a man had appeared on the day of the explosion to have one of the hooves on his horse repaired. He said the man spoke with a Sicilian accent. There were also other witnesses who said the man had a Scottish accent, and still others described him as a "greasy, street-peddler type". There seemed to be as many descriptions as there were witnesses. One thing was certain. Just before the explosion postcards had been deposited in a mailbox on Broadway that read "Remember we will not tolerate any longer. Free the political prisoners or it will be sure death for all of you." Signed "American Anarchist Fighters".

One person of interest to the police was Edwin Fischer, a champion tennis player and New York Law School graduate. He was also a frequent patient of mental wards. Several weeks before the explosion he had predicted to a stranger he met on the Manhattan-Hudson Line (now PATH) that there would be an explosion on Wall Street, even predicting the day. Several days before the explosion he mailed letters from Toronto to friends in New York warning them to stay away from Wall Street for a while. He was questioned by police and told them he had received warnings "through the air." The police assumed he was simply a nut and released him to an asylum. He was never charged.

Several thousand suspects were interrogated, but all leads seemed to pan out. One person of particular interest was Pietro Angelo, who had been connected to an earlier bomb plot the year before. His alibi was airtight. The feds deported him back to Italy anyway, where he tossed a bomb into a crowded opera and killed 39 people.

In 1940 the NYPD gave up on the case. To this day the scars of the explosion can still be seen on the façade of 23 Wall Street.

By James J. Calautti

This story is dedicated to the memory of Joe Carlin. Joe was a homeless man I often ran into while walking my dog "Scruffy". Joe was a generous, kindhearted person, and he loved to play with my dog when we walked by. Joe died in the street, as he had lived. Joe taught me something though. No matter your station in life, you can still possess dignity.

Heroin Use Has Toehold in Kearny

This report is unfortunately devoid of statistics and numbers to back it up, as the sources for them felt it was in their interest not to release them. That no one wishes to discuss this subject is part of the problem. What is left then are contacts with people willing to talk and simple observation. It is apparent that an insidious curse has a toehold in Kearny, and has for some time. Heroin addiction is destroying lives everyday in our town, and the ripple effect can be seen if one is willing to look. The burglaries that take place in town surely are one of the negative consequences of this problem. There is also a growing homeless population, people sleeping on benches and in doorways till they are chased to a different location. How can this be going on and continue without people taking notice. How can a thriving heroin trade take place in our town without the arrest of a big distributor? If you scratch just under the surface you can find some answers. On any given morning the number 39 bus runs down Kearny Avenue on its way to Newark. If you pay close attention, you would know that not everyone on that bus is on their way to work. Those caught in the trap of addiction get on the bus to get their morning "fix". In the parlance of the addict, they need to get off "E" (empty). Heroin addiction is a disease, an illness that makes one sick as surely as cancer. Usually there is an underlying mental illness that the person is attempting to self medicate. After a certain amount of time using heroin, the addict uses the drug not to feel different, but to feel normal. About eight hours after their last dose, withdrawal symptoms start to take hold. As the morphine leaves its site in the receptors of the brain, there is nothing to replace it. This triggers a very specific physiological response from the body. The person will be in pain, especially an aching of the muscles. Vomiting and diarrhea are another response, as is a runny nose and flu like symptoms. There is some debate as to whether withdrawal is life threatening, but the major consensus is that it is not. However, it is very unpleasant for the person experiencing it and can last for a week or more. The easiest relief then is obviously another dose of heroin. That is why the back of the bus is occupied by people in physical and mental distress. For 7 to 10 dollars they can get that "fix" which, for a brief period, will bring some relief. Just where do they get this drug? The addicts will tell you that for the most part heroin is not sold in Kearny. It has been suggested that this army of the addicted showing up at the same house or location every morning would surely bring suspicion and would be promptly shut down by local police. The City of Newark is another story. Newark is like a heroin bazaar in North Jersey. Almost every housing project has several dealers plying their wares. Heroin is usually sold in a small glassine bag, and the dealers stamp them with their particular "logo" to distinguish it from the others. The price is usually $10 but sometimes they can be had for as little as $7. Unfortunately, the price is dropping. There are so many dealers that a "price war" is being waged. The strength of their product has also increased. Whereas in the past heroin was usually injected intravenously, the drug today is strong enough that sniffing it can now produce the desired effect. This makes it more palatable to those who in the past would not even think of injecting themselves with a needle.
The Newark Police Department has tried to dissuade this wave of out-of-towners coming to their city for narcotics, but it is almost impossible to stop. They cannot be everywhere at once, and the dealers have learned evasive actions, using lookouts and spotters. Some have gone high-tech, employing cell phones and using scanners. It would not be far fetched to say that the Newark P.D. would have to double in size to even attempt to stop the drug trade.
There are other solutions to this problem, and some have been employed with success. Treatment for the addicted is a way of cutting demand as opposed to attacking the supply. This comes with a set of problems, but they can be overcome. Putting a patient into a medical detox setting is one way to treat people. Recently, drugs have become available, buprenorphine being one, which drastically reduces the effects of withdrawal. After 3 or 4 days of detox, the patient must be moved to a drug free setting and take part in a recovery program. The problem with this solution is that it is expensive, and most addicts do not have insurance. There are beds available for the indigent, but the addict must go on a waiting list of up to 3 months. Obviously, one must be committed to recovery to go this route. It is not a quick fix and takes a lot of work on the part of the patient. Another road from the use of heroin is to enroll the patient in a methadone treatment center. Methadone is a very misunderstood treatment that has been used successfully for decades now. The patient replaces his addiction to the morphine in heroin, which is quickly processed by the system, for methadone, which metabolizes much more slowly. A single dose in the morning and the patient can function all day without the experience of withdrawal. Methadone in no way gets the patient "high", and in fact blocks the euphoric effects of heroin, making it somewhat senseless to use it. It is distributed under a controlled setting and the patient is now in an environment conducive to recovery. Therapy is part of the program, and many addicts can move on to a productive life once they are stabilized and away from the world of the addict, which is pretty much a full time endeavor. Those using heroin spend most of their time not so much doing the drug, but looking for ways to get it and keep getting it. Methadone strips this away, and allows the patient to focus on positive experiences like job skill training and general life skills that have all but been replaced by addiction. Once a patient is stabilized on methadone they can opt to slowly withdrawal from the drug, in a controlled way so as not to experience withdrawals. Some patients opt for a "maintenance" program, where they stay on a dose just high enough to keep them from desiring heroin. There are other treatment methods, some promising "rapid detox" but they are not as well tested and there have been some mishaps that have thrown a negative light on them. There was one case in New Jersey where a doctor was providing rapid opiate detox treatment and several of the patients died when released to relatives without medical supervision. This is why most experts prefer the more traditional approaches.
That no one in a position of authority would respond to the question of this subject speaks volumes. This is a problem that is not going away, no matter who hides their head in the sand. As a society we must approach this problem openly. Many politicians pay lip service to "the war on drugs" with cute little mottos like "just say no" but it is time to say yes. Yes to confronting this problem and yes to guiding the afflicted into treatment. This should no longer be a dirty little secret. Let us meet this problem head on with victory as our goal. Any less and shame on us.
James J. Calautti

As I investigated this story I got to know many of the people who are in this unfortunate predicament. One of those people I will call "Joe" for the sake of anonymity. Joe lost his job as a carpenter and the financial problems put a stress on his marriage. He was soon divorced without a place to stay. Unfortunately he turned to alchohol and drugs to escape his problems. They only made them worse. I may have taken some poetic license, but here is what Joe's daily life is like.

"A DAY IN THE LIFE..."

The bus moves way too slowly for me this morning as we cross the river into the city and inch our way downtown. I gaze impatiently out the window, lamenting the predicament I was now in. Every muscle in my body aches and I am reeling from waves of nausea that wash over me and pound me like a tiny boat on the open sea. Gratefully I exit the bus into the chilled morning air of Lincoln Park. I light a cigarette and take some wobbly steps across the damp grass. I dodge my way across Broad Street and now my pace quickens as I anticipate my destination which harbors the relief I so desperately seek. Economic upturns never took a detour to this end of town, the empty rubble strewn lots a vacant monument to the broken promises of the many politicians who simply took the money and ran. I cross under a trestle as a commuter train screams over top, the harsh sounds amplified in my spinning head. Damn, that was loud. I quickly close the distance between me and the housing project that I have become so familiar with. Please I pray, no cops today. The blaring rap from a boom box quickly dispels that fear, ah yes, the boys are out. As I step into the courtyard a woman comes running towards me from a darkened doorway, screaming incoherently, her arms flailing wildly above her head. She looks like a deranged chimpanzee, chasing off an un wanted mate. She mumbles something about spare change but I brush past her brusquely, as I have no time for nonsense this morning. The only lady I'm here to see goes by the name of "Smack". I haggle over the price of a few bags with "Big Daddy", who I spied holding court with his "posse" in a shadowy corner of the projects. I walk away triumphantly after he agrees to my lowball price; business must be slow this morning. I fumble clumsily with the glassine bag in my rush to get at its contents. I take a snort and a comforting warmth gently blankets my body. Now peace and serenity encase me in their cocoon, and at least for a short time everything is right with the world again. I easily see the draw here for the urban poor, as the poverty and hopelessness of the projects are blasted away in an instant. For me it's an emotional poverty that needs numbing. When I walked into these projects everything was cold and grey. Now I feel warm and find beauty in the most inane things; the way the light splays off the broken glass on the concrete, the colorful graffiti on the red brick canvass of the housing units. Where was this beauty before? Hidden and then unlocked by some chemical reaction in my brain? Whatever the cause I'm momentarily pleased with the results. I exit through a side parking lot and hit the street with unbridled energy, singing out loud as I cut through the thick aromas of the bodegas and espresso shops that dot this neighborhood. The traffic this morning matches me in energy as drivers blow their horns and curse and gesticulate at each other. I share none of their anger though, I am at peace. How did that song go? "I can see clearly now the pain is gone, all of the bad feelings have disappeared". Sums it up nicely. However, therein lies the problem, for the same medicine that cures the pain is also the cause of it. Quite a paradox I've become locked into, and like a Pavlovian dog I'll do it all again tomorrow.