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a ER A vant ERC SSA i a LSE LS RS 4 -- PORT PERRY STAR -- Tuesday, October 28, 1986 Editorial Comments Man's Inhumanity To Man by Roxanne Reveler | am a subscriber to Newsweek magazine. It is a weekly publica- tion and | like it mainly for that reason. Everything you read is up to date, and the content is excellent, even though it has an American slant. The American slant is natural as it is an American publication, but the quality of the content makes up for this. In the last issue received, dated October 27, there was a special photo feature entitled "A Day in the Life of America." What it pur- ported to show was the every day life pictures of American citizens, and for the main part, it was very well done. But on nage 64, there was one photograph that bothered me im- mensely. It was taken by Sarah Leen and the caption beneath read: LOS ANGELES, CALIF.: Two men assault a drunk in an alley of Winston Street, part of the city's 'skid row.' The photograph was excellent in content. Taken from the end of a long alley, it depicted two men in the forefront, leaning against a wall talking. In the centre of the pic are the two men, beating up an old wino. A little to the back of the picture are five other people, all in various poses, but all with their eyes turned towards the scene that is the focal point of the photograph. Now to my point. What is happening to mankind today? | am truly disgusted with this photograph. itis bad enough that there are seven witnesses to such a violent and unnecessary act who are simply ignoring what is going on. Perhaps many would say "that"s what life is like in the slums.' But what about this professional person who had the unmitigated gall to photograph it? Obviously, the photographer was a woman, judging by her name, and | can understand why she would not want to attempt to break up such a scene. But | have to ask why on earth she would waste time taking a picture of it. In the first place, she could have attemp- ted to call the police. Certainly there are cops even on skid row. In the second place, it appears rather perverted to save such a scene for posterity. Finally it is obscene to print it in a national magazine. Perhaps this is the way America sees itself. My concern is that it is yet another instance of man's inhumanity to man. It is getting worse, and it is not confined to the U.S.A. It is slowly creeping into Canadian life as well and that is close to home and that's what con- - cerns me. You don't have to be religious, or a regular church goer to be a decent human being; to care about your fellow man. You might not be in the position to help every "bum" on skid row or even want to. But to take a photograph of a pair of hooligans rolling a drunk is plain - sick. Port Perry : Cn 235 QUEEN STREET - PORT PERRY, ONTARIO ~- Phone 985-7383 P.O Box90 LOB INO J. PETER HVIDSTEN Member of the Publisher Canadian Community Newspaper Association ie: and Ontario Community Newspaper Association sin nager Advert 8 Ma . Published every Tuesday by the Port Perry Star Co Ltd Port Perry Ontario J.B. McCLELLAND Editor Authorized as second class mai by the Post! Ottice Department Ottawa and tor cash CATHY OLLIFFE payment of postage in cash News & Features Second Class Mail Registraticy Number 0265 ~~ CO SP yy 45 Nr A NS QR NSS 22004 ay1084 Subsaription Rate In Canada $15 00 per year Elsewhere $45 00 per year Single Copy 35° COPYRIGHT -- All layout and composition of advertisements produced by the adver tising department of the Port Perry S + "ompany Limited are protected under copyright! and may not be reproduced without the written permission of the publisher TRUDEAyY 5POOKs -------------- Chatterbox by Cathy Olliffe KEEP THOSE WHEELS Whatever you do, don't relinquish your old dial phone to the clutches of Ma Bell. Bell would like you to do otherwise, as all their recent advertising propaganda would indicate, but don't let them fool you. | Those old dial phones are as scarce as hens' teeth already and are going to be collectors' items some day, worth a mint, probably. And if we trade in those few remaining dials for the heavily plasticized, featherweight hunks of junk, we'll regret it in the long run. While we'll be busy calling the repair depart- ment, the Bell museum department will be stockpiling all our old taitntuls in aispiay cases. Then, sometime in the next century, Bell will open the museum to the public and actually charge us to gawk at our old dial phones. Rumour has it the admission fee will be astronomical in order to make up for the millions Bell will lose over the next couple of months, thanks to the CRTC ruling. So hang on to your old dial ---- don't trade in those wheels, and sometime in the next century you'll have a valuable antique that can be auction- ed off for a small fortune. TIRED AND GROUCHY I am so tired. I can't belive how tired I am. I am more tired than a Canadian Tire salesman during a Firestone sale. Such a week it's been. My editor has been away all week, my publisher has been flying newspaper airplanes at a convention all weekend and I've been left holding the bag. Such a bag it's been. i I swear, everything that could possibly hap- pen in Scugog Township has happened this past week. My phone has not stopped ringing. People have been calling asking for publicity for everything from fashion shows to retirement din- ners with school openings, volunteer awards, craft shows, Halloween parties and teen dances in between. My camera has not stopped clicking. I've shot more film than a hunter in Caesarea shoots rabid skunks. I could fill an entire trophy room with head shots. My trigger finger is abused and worn. I too, am worn. Not only have I been working my tail off at the paper, I've also been trying (em- phasis on trying) to move into a new house. Ac- tually, it's an old house, but that's beside the point. Fixing a leaky roof, insulating, panelling and cleaning does not a lady of leisure make. But that's not all of it. My tale of woe goes on. I've also photographed a wedding, did some work for a lawyer, and found some time somewhere to buy a new camera (thus the wedding and the lawyer). I am so tired. Vitamins do not help. Gargling with Geritol does not help. What would help would be a reasonable night's sleep. You know, hit the hay at 10 p.m. on a Sunday night to recuperate from the previous week and prepare myself for the following Monday, the dreaded Monday, tradi- tionally known in the newspaper circles as the busiest day of the week, the day when everyone works 12 or more hours straight. So there I am, at 10 p.m., snuggled under the sheets for a night in Rip Van Winkle land. And, lo and behold, there is a knock on the back door. "Oh joy," I say to myself as my hubby lets in two of his pals. The two pals and hubby promptly haul out a guitar and commence crooning old Neil Young songs at the top of their voices. "Oh joy," I say to myself, for the second time in mere minutes. The walls in our house are paper thin. I can hear the pals nostrils flex everytime they inhale for another bar of the song. I begin to think I'll never get to sleep. Somehow, I thought life would be different once I was married and settled into a house. Somehow I thought the pals wouldn't be so inclin- ed to appear at our doorstep late on a Sunday night. Somehow, I thought I was wrong. What would you do in a case like this? Would you -- a) come railing out into the living room, brandishing a rolling pin? b) call the police? ¢) throw shoes? d) throw insults at tnem from underneath your pillow? e) ignore the noise? f) politely inform them if they don't shut-up and let you sleep you will write a nasty column about them? Unfortunately, I don't own a rolling pin (I'm waiting until Stedman's has a sale) and throwing shoes and insults didn't help. So I chose the last answer. Threatening them with a nasty column didn't help at the time, but I'm hoping it will help next time they think about arriving on our doorstep late on a Sunday night. If by chance they don't read this, I will have to resort to the rolling pin. [ wonder if Stedman's sells rolling pins made of concrete. § | : i £ i f \ i b E & i