SAVING THE BIG DUCK

Think of Conneaut Lake as "The Little Town That Could." If the fates are kind, it will be one of the few communities in the nation to own a real amusement park.

The Conneaunt Inn is located within the historical Conneaunt Lake Park - where parents can relax as kids enjoy historic rides for about the price of parking at newer amusement parks elsewhere. The amusement park is located in Conneaunt Lake, PA which was built in the late 1800’s and is one of the last surviving traditional rural pre-theme parks in the U.S.

Cynics might say the folks from Conneaut Lake are dreamers and their plan to save a once-glorious park is a long shot. But I'm rooting for them, just like we all rooted for that Little Engine That Could.

And there's a lot to root for. These folks are trying to save one of the area's biggest attractions, and they're also providing a summer's worth of family fun and preserving a piece of history.

At Conneaut Lake kids can ride, swim and cavort all day for just few a dollars, while their parents can unwind over a sit-down meal in a Grand hotel. And, it's a place where us old-timers can return to the past, even if it's only for an afternoon.

Many of the country's top performers stopped at Conneaut Lake more than a half-century ago. The big bands came here. Doris Day sang in the Dreamland Ballroom. Perry Como got his start here.

(Note to those under 30: Perry Como was this really, really old guy who was super relaxed when he sang - like Frank Sinatra. (Ummm, Frank Sinatra was this really, really old guy...)

"In the early 1900's it wasn't unusual for 10,000 people to come here on a Sunday," said Judith Hughes one of the people trying to revive the park and its centerpiece, a big old wooden hotel.

If you're thinking of staying in the hotel, you should know there are reports of ghosts there. But that's another story.

Now, the park is haunted by financial hobgoblins. An owner went bankrupt in the 1990's and left the park to the community. It was devastating for everyone who depends on the park for income. Folks around here call Conneaut Lake Park the Big Duck in the pond that feeds all the little ducks, like restaurants, motels and scores of summer workers.

The Board of Directors, whose members come from several nearby communities, is restoring the hotel, the rides and the grounds. The next step is to lure a steady stream of customers back to the park.

It's not Disney World, but there are 40 rides, many of them in Kiddie Land.

"We have a marvelous carousel with some of the original horses and an authentic hand organ from the 1930s," Judith said.

There are also real pony rides, a beach, a boardwalk and the Blue Streak, reportedly one of the nation's oldest roller coasters.

"When I was in high school, I rode the Blue Streak 64 times in one day," Judith said. She rode the coaster as recently as last year, but today, she prefers to sit on the hotel veranda sipping a soda and looking out at the lake.

And, what a bargain the park is! Parking and admission are free. You can buy a day pass for all rides for under $15 on the weekend and under $10 on weekdays.

"Yes, it's an amusement park, but it's just, just so much more," Judith said. "It's the trees, the water. It's walking on the boardwalk in the moonlight," she said.

Mmmm. I like that. It sure makes you hope that Conneaut Lake really is the Little Town That Could.


A WALL OF SORROW

Euclid Avenue in East Cleveland has seen better days. Good industrial jobs left town long ago. Now, storefronts are vacant and it's a million miles from here to the glistening towers of downtown Cleveland.

Art McKoy, a resident of East Cleveland (OH), assistants in creating awareness to the rise of senseless acts of violence occurring to many local youngsters since 1992. A side of a vacant building is used for anyone to display images and writings to describe and tribute loved ones who have died from violent acts.

But there's a place on Euclid Avenue that touches your soul more deeply than all of downtown's glitter. It's a simple wall with the names of 800 local youngsters who were murdered from 1990 to 2002.

The names are on plaques high above the ground. Below the names is a white wall filled with memories of people who died too young. There are drawings, photographs, flowers, poems, and messages from families and friends.

These are epitaphs of broken dreams, of promises not kept. There are pictures of basketball players, a football player, a girl in a prom dress, a young Marine in uniform. There's a picture of Willie Tipton, Jr., whose eyes glowed with confidence. Next to the picture a friend wrote, "Rest in peace, bro."

There are family portraits and a picture of Aaron McCarter who was killed by hit-and-run driver last June. He's among the 150 youths killed since plaques were installed.

"Aaron left to mourn a host of family and friends. We love you and you will be missed dearly," says a message from his family.

Then there's another message.

"You were truly a gift from God.
Love always,
Your big sister, Leiliani"

They say almost no one walks by the wall without pausing for a moment. Passers-by look at the mementos of people known. And they search for new faces on the wall.

"I knew him and him and him," said passerby Greg Morse, pointing to the pictures. "This girl, they shot her in the side of the head. She was a beautiful girl. They're all gone."

"It's dangerous here. Real dangerous."

The wall was started by Judy Martin, after her son was killed in 1994. Back then it was the simple, private gesture of a grieving parent. Others who lost children followed Judy's lead and soon there was a wall.

But that was just the beginning. Judy and community activist Art McKoy realized that the area, and the nation, were in the midst of an epidemic of homicides of children.

The wall has become a reminder of that epidemic and each new picture is a call to action.

"This wall says: We will never forget. We will never let it happen again," said McKoy, who operates Black on Black, an organization that provides services for people in East Cleveland.

Judy and other parents talk with youngsters at schools and with families at vigils, trying to instill a respect for life. She said those talks may have something to do with the decline in child homicides in recent years.

"Which makes you wonder why the city is willing to see the wall destroyed. The wall is part of a vacant building, which the city acquired for unpaid taxes. Now the city is trying to sell the building - presumably a death sentence for the wall."

"They've been showing the building," Judy said. If the building has to come down, Judy said, parts of the wall can be moved since they are on plywood that covered broken windows. But she said grieving parents need a place where they can leave poems, flowers and cards or write a message next to a picture.

Ideally, she'd like to see a little garden where people can sit and reflect.

But none of that is as good as keeping the wall intact and using the building as a community center for young people, Judy said. That's why Judy, Art and others are trying to raise money to buy the abandoned building.

Donations for the Black on Black Memorial Fund can be sent to any branch of Sky Bank.


FISH STORY

The spillway at Lake Pymatuning is no place for the squeamish. It's a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock or Tim Burton movie. Weird - but fascinating.

Welcome to Linesville, PA. “Where the Ducks Walk on the Fish" is a common phrase Linesville residents use to describe the feeding frenzy which occurs between carp and geese on Pymatuning Lake. Visitors from all over come to toss pieces of bread into the Lake while they watch geese literally walking atop of the abundant carp as they fight for food.

Toss a few crusts of bread into the living-room sized pool below the spillway, then watch thousands of carp surge to the surface and poke their heads above water creating a wiggling carpet of gaping mouths and dark vacant eyes.

Folks here in Linesville, PA say the water's so thick with fish that ducks actually walk on them. We didn't see any ducks walking on fish when we were there last week, but it is easy to believe.

"I bet there are 10,000 of them there," said one visitor watching the scrum.

People have been feeding the big brown and gold carp here for decades and these fish know a free lunch when they see one.

There's brief, fierce churning when the bread lands. Some of the fish are propelled on top of this living carpet like a college kid crowd surfing in mosh pit.

"I used to have nightmares about falling in," said a Linesville woman, who never liked the feeding frenzy.

Doug Smith of Linesville said the fish are the number one attraction in Linesville and in all of Pennsylvania's state parks.

"People are fascinated by it. You're not going to see anything like it anywhere else," he said.

Certainly the fat, happy carp don't object. Nor do the ducks, who quickly beat the fish to bread that's thrown into the lake above the spillway.

So, now we know: Ducks are quacker than fish.


BIRDMAN

Jim Beckett looks like a tough guy, with his long, stringy hair, his scraggly, three-inch-long goatee and the tattoos that cover his arms.

But watch him coax a blue and gold parrot out of its cage, then hold it like a precious infant. And watch the parrot snuggle against his shoulder for protection outside its cage. Then you'll know Jim is a gentle man.

Jim Becket otherwise know as "The Birdman" talks to his Blue & Gold Macaw named Scrappy. Jim, who has been into birds and other animals all his life, runs a little exotic pet and supply store located on the outskirts of Andover, OH.

"I've been around birds all my life," said Jim, whose nickname is Birdman. So it was only natural that Jim and a few of his friends opened a pet store - called Birdman's, of course.

The shop in Andover, Ohio, opened about a year ago and is barely breaking even, if that. But Jim says he's not in it for the money.

"I do it for a hobby," he said. If Jim doesn't think you'll treat one of his birds right, he might not sell it.

"If you can't take care of yourself, you can't take care of a bird, he said, adding that birds require time and attention.

Corey Connors, who helps out in the store, said the birds, fish, dogs, snakes, spiders and other critters are just part of the menagerie. The three owners have more at home.

"This is what my house looks like," Jim said as he stood in the shop's bird room.

There were even more of them before the shop opened. That's what prompted Birdman's wife, LouAnn to say it was time for him to open store.

"I said no more snakes in the house," she said. That was after one of them escaped from its cage.

But LouAnn's fine with the other animals. She even takes care of them when Jim's busy with his full time job at the water department and with the store.

She sees the Birdman's tattoos, his hair and goatee but she also sees the man beneath.

"He's got a big mouth, but he doesn't bite. He's very good with animals and people," she said.

Besides, she likes long hair.


GOODBYE PENNSYLVANIA. HELLO OHIO.

We left, Pennsylvania last week with a magnificent send-off from Linesville. Once again, Travis and I were kings for a day. We were enjoying the royal treatment so much that we didn't do our homework.

We didn't contact the Ohio media, so no one knew we were coming. And other than Astabula County, we didn't contact the travel bureaus, so we actually had to pay for our rooms. Can you imagine?

Now that our carriage has turned back into a pumpkin we appreciate the wonderful send off I got in Linesville, where Travis and I were wined and dined and given so many gifts they wouldn't fit in our little car.

A youngster in Pennsylvania holds up a sign to support Joe Hurley as he nears the Ohio border on his Coast-to-Coast Walk along Route 6.

People walked with us to the state line, then escorted us several miles into Ohio the next day - and one woman caught up with me again the following day and walked more than 10 miles.

But the best part was seeing about 1,000 school kids lining the main street of Linesville as I walked through. I slapped hands with as many as I could and loved it.

In just a week, I traveled from Pennsylvania's winding, hilly roads to the straight, mostly flat streets of Ohio, where you can see a car coming from miles away. Here, you'll see houses tucked behind fields that stretch a mile back from the road.

I'm still hoping to meet folks in Ohio and Indiana who will walk a bit with me.