Strapped county sacks Santa to save $660

By Jonathan Allen

Faced with the difficult task of balancing a budget in austere times, officials in New York's Suffolk County said on Friday they had no choice: they had to sack Santa Claus.

The county executive said he could not justify carving out $660 (411.37 pounds) from his $2.7 billion budget to pay David McKell, 83, a World War II veteran and former homicide detective, to don his Santa suit for the tenth year running and greet children on Long Island.

"How do you justify that expenditure when a health centre is losing money?" Steve Levy, the Suffolk County Executive, said in an interview.

He said that some 750 county employees were facing layoffs as a result of budget restraints, including what he described as a $20 million cut in state aid to the county's health system.

"Let either the private sector come forward with a donation, or, better yet, let's tap the volunteers in the community," he said.

Levy was quickly called a Grinch by his opponents.

Santa is White

I got to thinking this afternoon .... well, let me digress. I am 78 years old, born in 1932, so I remember some of the 30's and 40's and of course the 50's, I have lived through a lot of change. I delivered newspapers for a while to Wilbur Wright at his home in Dayton, Ohio. I have seen Charles Kettering on a number of occasions. I saw FDR, Kettering and Orville in a parade in Dayton. I went to school in South Carolina in the early 50's, I worked in the casinos in Reno in the mid 50's, so I really have seen a lot of change.

This afternoon, I had "Easy Listening Music" playing on the TV, sitting here staring at the wall, a plaque that says DOOLEY   1961, Which was given to my Mom and Dad when they moved in to their new place here, a present from one Rebecca Rhue Dooley, my brothers wife, an it hangs next to a dresser mirror which was on a bureau I had all my life, salvaged the mirror, and have it hanging on our wall. So thoughts were of today, and memories of yesteryear.

Anyway, I wondered if years ago, say the early 40's, some little colored boy asked his mother, "Why is Santa Claus White?" Why are all the basketball players and baseball players white? Why are all the dolls white? Jesus and all the angels are white, is God white too? Why do we have to ride in the back of the bus?

So many questions that a little black boy, or colored, as they were called in those days.

I wonder how Mothers answered them, or maybe they didn't ask questions, they just accepted things as they were and never asked why. well, later on, a few did. Like Rosa Parks and Dr. King, and I'm sure others did.

Blacks were not allowed in the clubs in Reno when I worked out there in the 50's. Everyone else was allowed, but no blacks. I never questioned why. And, in all the time I was out  there, I don't recall one black person trying to enter. It would have been easy, all air doors, just one small step and you were in.

I would like to know how that Mother answered her child, "Why is Santa White?" Actually, come to think of it, Santa is still white in most cases, Jesus is still white, the angels I see depicted, are still white.

Why is Santa white?

Eddy Stream

Another echo from the past ....

Years ago we had an employment agency here in town. One morning we heard a series of tires screaching and horns blowing and in a few minutes we heard a commotion in the hallway, and a young man came sauntering in.

He went face to face, literally, with our receptionist, got an application, sat down, nose and eyes almost touching the paper, started filling it out. Someone took him in tow and helped him fill out the application. He was not blind, but only had a little sight.

I ended up interviewing him.

He had a series of jobs, his latest, running a small food stand in our courthouse. I asked him why he left.
"I got fired, the only way I could tell when the hot dogs were done was when they started burning, and I had to either smell or get very close to the items so I knew what they were."

I went through what we called a "Courtesy Interview." There just were not that many openings for a man that was almost blind.

Found out during our conversation, the reason for all the traffic noise, Eddy just took off across streets, he hoped people would see him before they hit him, thus the horns and screeching tires.

You had to like Eddy, he was very personable. Many mornings he would head for a dry cleaners in town, and spend the day with the delivery man, in his truck, just riding around town. He lived a fairly normal life. In talking with some of his friends I learned that almost each afternoon he would visit the local funeral home downtown to see who was there. One could picture Eddy, standing at the casket, leaning over, nose to nose, to see who had died.

At the end of the interview I asked him what kind of financial help he got each month.

"I don't get none."

"Social Security, DSB, anything like that you get?"

"No, nothing, just what my Mom gives me."

I made a call to the DSB, (Department for Services for the Blind) and arranged an appointment for Eddy.

A week or so later, we hard horns, screeching, we knew Eddy was on his way.

He wanted to thank me, he was making all sorts of money now, getting all sorts of aide, getting home visits, they got him a "cane" and he was doing well.

I lost track of Eddy, I saw him years later, in a nursing home (around Christmas and I was doing Santa). I did a "Ho, Ho, Ho, how are you this Christmas Eddy Stream?"

I got a big broad grin and a smile.