Why People Jump Off the 8th Street Bridge

I've been to four long candidates' nights in two counties over the past seven days. I was really tempted to stay home last night and paint my toenails, but decided instead to attend the debate for Allentown candidates sponsored by St. Paul's Park Neighborhood Group.

Why did I do it? Public service? The people have a right to know? Nah. I'll be honest. After Tuesday night, when city council member Julio Guridy flipped out over a flip cam at the NAACP debate, I wanted to see him blow oil when I pulled it out the very next night. This time, the flip cam was staying on no matter what I was told. In fact, I had two of them. I also packed my toothbrush and was wearing rubber underwear in case things got rough.

This forum took place at a senior citizen center known as Little Lehigh Manor. It's located right next to the famous 8th Street Bridge, the perfect spot for a swan dive in Allentown.

I sat among 44 nice seniors waiting for the candidates, listening to bits and pieces of conversation. "The crime watch always serves food." "I usually play hearts when the crime watch meets."

When magisterial candidate Walter Felton made his entrance, many of the senior ladies got excited. "Here comes your buddy." "You see him all over. I see him on Hamilton Street." "I remember him at Dunkin Donuts." "He was a policeman for 21 years."

Walter was flanked by an entourage of three nice women wearing blue polo shirts, but one of them eyed me suspiciously.

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm just a blogger. My name is Michael Molovinsky."

"Thank goodness. I saw what happened to you last night at the NAACP debate and thought 'Dang, you must be a conservative.'"

"No, I hate conservatives. They should all be locked up and sent to a Gulag."

I waited and waited while moderator Dan Nest conducted some sort of pre-meeting. No Julio Guridy. In fact, only one city council candidate bothered to show up at all - Ray O'Connell. When he saw me, he asked, "Are you stalking me?" He is kind of cute.

Lou Hershman was out of town and did send his regrets, but I have no idea what happened to the rest of them. Just the previous night, they all stressed how important it is to reach out to different community organizations, but the next night only one of six city council candidates was walking the walk.

I thought this meant we'd have a quick evening. But the candidates had other ideas. Apparently, they felt they could just talk and talk and talk until people start jumping off that 8th Street bridge.

Magisterial candidate Ron Manescu was the first one at the plate, and spoke for seven minutes, a little too long. I never knew that Chief Manescu, as an Allentown police officer, was actually shot at and wounded in the line of duty. He spoke of his daughter, a public defender, and joked that he locks 'em up and she sets 'em free.

Magisterial candidate Walter Felton went on even longer, about ten minutes. He discussed what it was like being the youngest of seven children, growing up in the projects with no money. He mentioned his childhood jobs as a newspaper and shoe shine boy. Nodody shot him. That's all nice, but I was starting to look for a window after about 5 minutes.

City Council candidate Ray O'Connell was next. He had a much more dangerous job than either Felton or Manescu. He was a teacher, principal and administrator in the Allentown School system. "We need to do something about our teens between 3 o'clock and 8 o'clock." He maintains Allentown kids are "good kids," but need to be kept involved in positive activities. O'Connell kept his remarks brief, about five minutes, but by this time we were all losing interest.

When Mayoral candidate Tony Phillips batted clean up, he delivered an inaugural address. He went on a good twenty minutes, but lost everyone after about five. By the time he was done, one group of ladies was playing hearts while another was discussing the joys and sorrows of morphine. I could have used some. One of these senior ladies was suddenly very still, just staring at a wall. At this point, I started thinking about that bridge.

Pawlowski's turn. "I'll be brief," he promised, and then droned on himself for twenty-five minutes, quoting LBJ, Walt Whitman and the Old Testament to a crowd that was mostly there for the cookies and chips. He was asked about the 8th Street bridge. Why doesn't he let those poor homeless people, who live under the 8th Street bridge, alone? Will he ever install a screen so people can't jump? In the meantime, that one lady was still staring at the wall, and hadn't moved a bit.

Did these guys kill her? At this point, I was considering a jump myself, but finally, it was over.

Or so I thought.

"Before you go, we have a very short business meeting," announced Dan Mest. That's when the still lady miraculously rose from the dead to give a treasurer's report. She started describing the $136 this group has on hand in excruciating detail, right down to the $7.50 in contributions received last month. As she spoke, everyone in the room suddenly became very still, staring at walls.

That's it. I ran out of there and jumped off the 8th Street bridge. But I forgot I was wearing rubber underwear, so I just bounced.

I think I've been to enough candidates' nights for awhile.