End full-time pay for part-time work

The bodies that govern counties in Kentucky are the Fiscal Courts. They are composed of county judges/executive and, for the most part, magistrates, although some counties use commissioners. By state law, the magistrates have no official duties other than to attend each meeting of the Fiscal Courts, make proposals and vote on all matters that come before it.

Pike County has six magistrates on its Court. They receive, by way of compensation, salaries and benefits that far outweigh what is actually demanded of them. The annual salary is $48,000. The county also provides each magistrate with an office and hires someone to answer the phones for them. Each magistrate is also provided with a vehicle, gas and tires. Not sloppy for part-time work.

All of this should be common knowledge. Larry Webster, who once penned his widely-read column Red Dog for the Appalachian News-Express, used to comment regularly on what he called our part-time magistrates.

The magistrates’ situation has recently come to light again because the county expects to experience what for it will be a rather large deficit in next year’s budget. Rather than approve a 1% occupational tax proposed by Judge Rutherford, the court decided instead to adopt an austere budget that will cut many of the county’s most needed programs and also cut county employees’ salaries by an estimated $800,000. Well, not all of the county’s employees are taking cuts. The magistrates will still get their part-time pay of $48,000, plus perks.

Magisterial work wasn’t always part-time. Prior to the adoption of the judicial reform amendment in 1976, magistrates, aka Justices of the Peace, actually held court. That meant that these members of the fiscal court could actually put people on trial, even though a lot of them were lucky to have even a high school diploma. That ended when this amendment required a law degree for anyone who would preside over any court of law.

After the passage of the judicial reform amendment, the J. P.’s became simple magistrates. Now they are like members of a city council, except of course the pay is much better. So far as I am aware, state law alone defines the duties of a magistrate. If there are any county ordinances on the matter, I am completely unaware of them.

But perhaps that should change. For instance, pay for these jobs should be commensurate with the work that is actually done. We could even demand a full day’s work for a full day’s pay. And that might even include answering your own phone. In other words, if you’re a magistrate, you would no longer be allowed to work full-time elsewhere, while collecting full-time pay for what amounts to part-time work.

You also might want to take away some of the more outrageous perks these jobs offer. The first to go should be the vehicles provided by the county. That would also end the free gas and tires. The money saved would pay county employees to do work that is desperately needed by the county’s citizens.

Of course, if a magistrate insisted on holding down full-time employment elsewhere, provisions might be made by paying those magistrates only for those hours they actually work. That’s the way, after all, it’s done with the rest of the county employees.

When Big Boxes Attack

Way back when, in 1963, my family moved to Feds Creek, joining refugees who were being moved out of the way of the Fishtrap Reservoir in finding new places to live. Well, my Dad was originally from this area, so this was a move back home to him, but it also meant facing a new reality, and that was that Pikeville was no longer the closest town to us. We were now a good deal closer to the county seat of Buchanan County, Va., otherwise known as Grundy.

Here’s the thing about Grundy; it wasn’t exactly a really big town. My maternal uncle, Millard Justice, used to joke that when you drove through it, you should try not to blink any more that was necessary, as this would cause you to miss seeing a lot of the town.

But it had pretty much everything that was necessary at the time, including clothing stores for back to school duds, what we considered to be a large department store, the now defunct Ben Franklin, and of course Grundy was the home of Jack Smith’s first store, a Piggly Wiggly. So what more could you want?

What we didn’t know then was the changes that would be wrought in consumer sales in the coming years. Little did we know that the big box stores were on their way and department stores like the G. C. Murphy in Pikeville, or Grundy’s Ben Franklin, would one day fall prey to the likes of Wal-Mart.

For years Grundy held pretty much all we needed in the way of consumer goods, but gradually, almost imperceptibly, things changed, and one day we woke up to see a lot of the stores in Grundy closing. And with the advent of the Wal-Marts in Pikeville, we suddenly had a need to travel those extra miles. Suddenly 37 miles wasn’t too far to drive, especially when Grundy had no comparable stores.

Well, that was then, this is now. If you haven’t been in Grundy in a while, you’re in for a bit of a shock. In its own way, Grundy has emulated Pikeville’s cut through project on a smaller scale. Where the main street was, and where a lot of businesses were, you now find a four-lane road. All that is left of Main Street is a bank, the court house, and the old Pure-Oil Station.

That ridge that was across the river has now been leveled and a large three-story building has been erected. This was supposed to be the new downtown for Grundy. Instead the town gets a Wal-Mart. The cost for the area this big box built atop a two story parking garage will occupy was some $200 million dollars, courtesy of the feds.

Well, of course, having a Wal-Mart so close at hand is going to bring changes for everyone. For those of us in Kentucky who have given up going to Grundy to shop, we can once again point our vehicles east instead of west.

But for those who live in Grundy, bigger changes may be coming. Those local businesses that managed to hang on there will find a competitor that won’t be so easy to deal with, and many will not survive. Well, this is private enterprise and survival of the fittest.

Socio-Pathology

Seems to me I recently read some interesting news on the facebook.  This was posted by one of my legion of friends, if, in fact, a legion numbers fewer than 400.  Without going into any great detail, the story concerned the writer’s conviction that most CEO’s of the country’s major corporations are either sociopaths or psychopaths, or perhaps a mixture of the two.  Just so you know, sociopaths are merely self-centered while psychopaths are sociopaths who are considerably more involved in their mental illness.

Well, it sort of goes without saying, big business is cutthroat, no holds barred and take no prisoners.  If you don’t put your competition out of business, your competitors won’t pass on any opportunity to put you in the welfare line.  And then there is the ego of most people who are involved in big business; maniac is usually seen paired with that word.

So, yes, when you are, say, the CEO of one of the nation’s largest corporations, you are apt as not to spend a fair amount of your time on the French Riviera wining and dining, say, those who seek to occupy elected offices, such as, oh, say, the United States Congress, in the off chance that you might have some business come before that body someday.

Speaking of office holders, both incumbent and prospective, you are just as apt to find a fair number of sociopaths/psychopaths in this group as well.  As the case is alleged to be with business bigwigs, anyone who is able to organize a successful run for, say, Member of Congress, usually has the ability to believe everything that is said about them.  Just the good stuff their supporters would say, mind you, none of the mudslinging their opponents would engage in.

Well, there is a popular saying many believe comes from the Bible, but which actually comes from Shakespeare’s King Lear; Pride goeth before the fall.  And oh, how many have fallen along the way.  The road to any political office is littered with the remains of the careless.

Such is the case with New York Congressman Anthony Weiner.  This Brooklyn Democrat, one of the most unapologetic liberals in the House of Representatives, has fallen into not one trap, but a whole bunch of traps, the most of which he set for himself.

Well, it’s not like Rep. Weiner didn’t know what could happen.  How many times have these sort of things happened over the past few years?  More times that you could ever imagine.   And how many times has the accused denied any responsibility?  See the answer to the first question.  How easy would it have been, once you were caught, to have owned up to your own culpability?  Far easier than you would ever think.  And how disastrous are the consequences when you have to come back before the news media and explain those lies, aka, alibis, you just told?  Don’t answer that one.

What’s worse is how you are going to be treated by late night talk show hosts, and how the internet is going to literally shred you.  But when your name is Weiner-and we all know the nature of the offenses Congressman Weiner is said to have committed, don’t we ( wink, wink)-let’s just say this shouldn’t even happen to a dog!

On losing a Buddy

Nicknames can be a burden to bear, or they can be a temporary handle your friends use to ID you, but rarely do they last all that long and they are seldom used or even known by more than a few people.  A chosen few, however, are given nicknames that become so universally known; they actually take the place of their given name.

Such was the case with one William Harold Hall, better known as Buddy Hall.  In fact, Buddy may be the only name many have ever known him by.  Truth is, the man is my first cousin and I was on this earth for quite a few years before it dawned on me that wasn’t his real name.  Go figure.

Well, this nickname that became Buddy’s surrogate first name could not have been more appropriate.   Yeah, I know, the word “buddy” suggests several meanings.  One way it’s used is a one-size-fits-all handle for strangers, as in “Hey buddy, wanna pass me that ketchup?”  But perhaps a better known definition is someone who is your special friend, perhaps even your best friend.  And that is what comes to mind when you think of Buddy Hall.

Buddy was a special person and he was blessed to have had some special people in his life.  He married his childhood sweetheart, nee Betty Keene and they had a wonderful family together.  Buddy worked in the coal industry, where he reached the position of mine superintendent, most notably for Pittston Coal.  I remember when he was super at one of the Eastern Mines, and later he worked the same position at Kentland Elkhorn.

I had one of my first jobs when Buddy lived on Upper Pond Creek.  I worked for John Ward then.  Buddy got my boss to install a fuel oil furnace for him.  We’d get there on the Dinky Road, my first time on this, uh, short cut.

As I’ve said, Buddy epitomized the better meaning of his nickname.  He was a buddy to anybody who need a shoulder to cry on or some spiritual advice.  That was the one thing he specialized in after he took up his last calling, that of Minister.  He was there for my family when my brother Steve passed away.  He stood in for me when my Mom broke her femur and had to have surgery.  She and I were in the ER from 8pm until 3:30 the next morning and I was obliged to get some much needed rest.

Buddy was always ready to come to anyone’s assistance and never did it to get into the limelight.  His good deeds were often done out of sight and known only to those whom he helped.  But that was the way he wanted it.  His reward for helping others was that he was able to help them.  He never asked for more.

Buddy passed away this last weekend, just a few days after our annual family reunion at the Breaks.  His passing leaves a legion of friends who cherished him and grief-stricken family members who must now go on without him.

 A tribute to him on facebook says it all:  “What you leave behind is not what’s engraved in stone monuments; it’s what’s woven into the lives of others.”  Buddy left behind a tapestry of incalculable beauty.