HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 1993-09-08, Page 5THE CITIZEN, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 1993. PAGE 5.
Inept thieves
provide
comic relief
Is it a bigger crime to rob a bank
or to open one?
A chap by the name of Ted Allen wrote
the above. I think Mister Allen had his
thumb squarely on one of the elusive
characteristics of crime: its chameleon-like
ability to pass itself off as something else.
When you think about it, it's really rather
remarkable that so many people take up a
life of crime, considering there are so many
legal ways to be dishonest. We live in a time
when political bumboys who have weaseled
their way into a Senate appointment
cynically vote themselves a massive pay
raise smack in the face of a recession-
ravaged populace. We live in a time when
roundly reviled departing Prime Minister
cynically attempts to sell his used furniture
back to the very people who paid for it in the
first place.
If you can get away with scams like that
legally — who needs to break the law?
Still, break the law we do. Some of us at
any rate. And it is the inept and ham-handed
ways in which we break the law that offer, if
nothing more, some comic relief for the rest
of the Great Unwashed that continue to plod
End of
an era
Ever since its inception in 1948, at which
time Canada played a leading part, NATO
has loomed large in the life of the Canadian
armed forces. We trained large numbers of
aircrew for the various air forces of the
alliance and since the 1950's, stationed large
numbers of both our army and air force in
Europe to act as a protective shield against
any Russian attack against the West. At the
height of our commitment, we had no less
than 12 squadrons of fighter aircraft in
France and Germany, not to mention a large
army detachment, first in northern Germany
and subsequently in the city of Lahr, on the
edge of the Black Force in the southwestern
part of the country.
With the cessation of a military threat
from the Soviet Union, these forces have
gradually been downgraded. This summer I
visited both the air base at Baden Soellingen
and the army base at Lahr and found them
both just a shell of their former bustling self.
The F-18 jets, which were the last to serve in
Germany, have all been withdrawn back to
Canada after their short spell in the Gulf
War while the army, albeit at a slower pace,
has also been pulled back. It was a strange
sight but one which I am sure is to be found
on both sides of the Atlantic. All the NATO
countries have reduced their armed forces,
some of them rather drastically, and it
remains to be seen just what the situation
will be at the end of the century.
If our air force was able to leave with the
latest in military jets, the same cannot be
said for the army. When we first sent troops
to NATO, they were given an integral role to
play in the British sector of Germany. As,
however, the number of troops was reduced
the Straight and Narrow.
Take, for instance, the case of Eugene
"Butch" Flenough, Jr. of Austin, Texas.
Eugene, down to his last five bucks, decided
to knock over a pizza joint late one evening.
Cleverly enough, Eugene reasoned that since
there were several members of the staff still
on the premises, it might be a good idea to
conceal his identity. Accordingly, he donned
his motorcycle helmet, complete with tinted
visor, burst through the door, ordered
everybody up against the wall, cleaned out
the till and fled.
Imagine Eugene's surprise when the Texas
Rangers were practically at his door to greet
him when he got home. The Rangers told
him he had been positively identified by
several staff members. Impossible, thought
Eugene "Butch" Flenough, Jr. How could
anyone identify me when I was wearing my
motorcycle helmet with the tinted visor?
And so he was — the one with "Eugene
`Butch' Flenough, Jr." neatly stencilled
across the front.
Eugene was plain dumb. Daniel Wakefield
was Dumb Squared. Wakefield walked into
a bank in Pretoria, South Africa last year
with a gun in one hand and a canvas bag in
the other.
He was wearing a mask — which, cleverly
enough, did not have his name stencilled on
it. Wakefield threw the bag at a teller, and
told her to fill it with folding money. She
did. Wakefield fled. So far, so good — for
and the equipment they used became
increasingly obsolescent, the whole unit was
moved out of the front line forces and put
back as a reserve unit in the Black Forest,
more specifically in the city of Lahr to
which I referred above. I once went there to
do a number of articles on our NATO forces
and listened to little but complaints about old
and inefficient equipment; in the years that
followed, the situation became worse instead
of better.
When I was in Lahr this summer, it did not
take long before I realized just how much
the Germans there were going to miss the
Canadians. When, a few years ago, I
interviewed the mayor of Lahr for the
French network of the CBC, (he had a
doctorate in French studies) he emphasized
how much the Canadians meant to Lahr, not
only in economic terms, but also the good
relations which had been developed over the
years. Right now the loss is mainly an
economic one in that the departure of the
Canadians comes at a time when Germany is
suffering a recession that is worse than our
recent one.
Canadians have a knack, shared by few
other nations, of making themselves well
liked in other countries. In his conversation
with me, the mayor of Lahr touched on that
time and time again. This year the question
on many a resident's mind is who is going to
come in to occupy the housing left behind by
the Canadians.
It is considered that the most likely
inhabitants will be refugees from Eastern
Europe, what are more specifically called
"Volksdeutsche" or "ethnic Germans."
These are people of German origin who
settled a century or more ago in various
countries of the eastern part of the continent.
According to German law they have the
right to settle in Germany and benefit from
its social security program. The feeling
among many Germans with whom I talked
Wakefield at any rate.
But 50 minutes later a bare-faced Dan
Wakefield shows up in the same bank. "He
was still wearing the same clothes and
carrying the same bag" testified one of the
tellers. "We all recognized him the minute
he walked in and we called the police."
By the time Wakefield arrived at the
teller's wicket, detectives were sidling up to
him from every quarter of the compass.
Blithely, Wakefield emptied the $4,212 he'd
stolen on the counter and chirped "I'd like to
open an account."
Say good night, Mister Wakefield.
Dumb — but not dumb enough to hold a
dunce cap to William Saunders of New
York. In February, Saunders stormed into an
office of AT & T in Manhattan, armed to the
teeth and threatening mayhem. He took 14
hostages. Police cordoned off the building.
SWAT units slipped into position on
rooftops and in adjacent offices.
Fortunately, 13 of the hostages managed
to escape on their own. How? They asked
Saunders — one at a time — for permission o
go and get a drink of water. They never
returned. Saunders eventually surrendered to
police.
How come I never get to play poker with
guys like William Saunders?
People lament about the rise in crime. I
say Thank the Gods for Dumb Crooks.
Imagine the shape we'd be in if they were as
wily as our politicians.
this summer, is that they are more foreign
than German; quite a few of them speak
little if any German. The Canadians may
have been guilty of ignoring a few German
laws and customs but the thought of who
may replace them makes our military forces
look even more desirable as neighbours.
I was an instructor at NATO when the first
German pilots arrived at our base to begin
their training. I recall one of these initial
meetings very vividly. Sitting at a table with
both German and Canadian pilots, I found
that I was the only officer who had not taken
part in World War II. Here were Germans
who had shot down Canadian planes,
Canadians who had shot down German
planes; now they were allies. For me it was
the end of an era and the beginning of
another.
As I pulled out this summer from the air
base at Baden Soellingen after one last look,
I realized that I was experiencing the same
feeling; we were at the end of another era.
All that remains are the thoughts I retain of
having played a small part in that era.
Through
the Years
Continued from page 4
was estimated to be between 5 and 6,000.
The Blyth Council paid the following
accounts at their Sept. 2 meeting: Blyth
District fire area, Thompson car fire, $26;
Hamm's repair and labour on truck, $14.85;
garbage collection, $173; Receiver General,
unemployment Ins., $12.40 and welfare,
$243.19.
Two local sportsmen were recognized for
their contributions to sports in the area.
Hugh Flynn of Londesboro and Bill Craig of
Auburn received mugs from the Sportsman
cigarette company.
A Kindergarten division has been added to
the Blyth Fall Fair parade to be held on Sept.
17.
The
Short
of it
By Bonnie Gropp
Time to rise
and shine again
The hazy days of hedonism are halting.
With summer ending, it's time for me,
once again, to give up on pleasure and get
back to work.
Since my earliest years summer has been
my time to choose (though this gets a little
more difficult with adulthood) what I want
to do. Unlike today's young people I never
had a summer job; when I finished school in
June my summers were my own to enjoy,
other than doing the housecleaning for Mom.
I was constantly on the go. With friends at
home, I played ball or games of tag, and
swam. On holidays I spent endless hours
walking, go-karting, minigolfing and
trampolining.
Unfortunately, the older I got, the less
physical my idle pastimes became. Though I
could be co-erced into throwing a frizbee or
catching a baseball, more often than not
reading, while lazing in sun or shade,
became a favourite respite.
In my teens and 20s as a petite person and
a somewhat finicky eater, my sedentary
summers really weren't a problem. However,
about five years ago at the end of a
particularly indulgent season I had some
misgivings when I found myself, after
carrying a load of clean clothes upstairs,
huffing and puffing as if I had just
completed the Boston Marathon. I realized I
needed a fitness program.
Thereafter, faithfully each morning for one
year I rose early to spend some time
groaning in front of my televison, while a
perky blonde put me through her paces.
Though my abhorrent morning personality
meant I followed her grudgingly, I slowly
realized that what felt like work was
working. I had more energy and was able to
enjoy the junk food I loved without putting
on any more weight.
But, eight months later, we began one of
the hottest, muggiest summers I can recall,
so I stopped. Surely, no one could have
expected me to continue exercising in that
heat!
Too hot to do much, I vegetated, giving
new meaning to the name "couch potato"—
every time I sat on the couch I ate another
bag of potato chips, which were washed
down with a cold drink. By fall I felt like an
expectant mother; just getting out of a soft,
deep-seated chair was exerting.
This time I meant business. I stopped
eating fat, quit drinking my beloved brew,
rose at 6:30 to exercise with a virtual
dynamo and walked every evening. When
the positive effects kicked in I vowed I
would never again digress.
My good intentions lasted three years. But,
this summer I started to feel just a tad
resentful that at this point in my life I have
to feel guilty about chocolate cake. I don't
feel like getting up early and though I did try
to compensate by going for a walk at night,
my schedule just never seemed to work out.
So I spent a deliciously passive summer
once again, but now reality is back. It came
to me the other night when I thought it was
going to take a block and tackle to get me
out of the chair. (When you're my height,
you really do notice any extra baggage.)
It doesn't seem fair that the older we get
the more work it takes to feel good, but as I
tell my kids, "whoever said life is fair?".
Deep down under the layers of cellulite, I
know there is a person who knows the secret
to feeling younger is being fit.
It's time for her to rise and shine again.
Arthur Black
International Scene