Blogs > Jim Collins' Editor's Notebook

Jim Collins is editor emeritus of The News-Herald and also serves as executive in residence at Lakeland Community College. His popular weekly column appears each Sunday in Comment in The News-Herald.

Friday, January 30, 2015

Good jazz venues are becoming extinct

It seems the jazz places I love most are forever closing, never to reopen – unfortunately.
Now it looks as if Sammy’s in the Flats is condemned to eternal darkness – at least as far as my kind of music is concerned. Pity.
I guess it’s been a while since any notes of consequence have arisen from the place. For several years it has been a shell of its former self.
And I must confess that I never got there with the kind of regularity I would have preferred.
But oh, how I did love to go whenever I could manage to hear Frank Daniels play the piano, Hank Geer perform on alto saxophone and Marilyn Halderfield, the poor man’s Anita O’Day, sing the ballads we held so dear.
Actually, she wasn’t a poor man’s anything. She was an accomplished singer in her own right. It’s just that she sounded so much like Anita that the comparison was inevitable for anyone who ever listened to Anita sing with Kenton or Krupa.
I think Tom Haley, who once occupied a spot on Channel 3 every morning with Del Donahoo, must have had a huge crush on Marilyn. He talked about her a lot.
I can understand the attraction.
I would go to Sammy’s whenever I could talk someone into going. Actually, I was never a downtown Cleveland person, unless it was going to a Browns or an Indians game at Municipal Stadium.
I guess I’m dating myself.
One downtown place I never hesitated to go to, however, was the former Modern Jazz Room, which gave way to the headache ball so that Jacobs Field and Gund Arena could be constructed.
One of the greatest jazz adventures I ever experienced, other than a few trips to Birdland in New York City – which the last time I saw it was a parking lot – was a week I spent at the Jazz Room because of a fortuitous event that took place on a Monday night many years ago.
I say it was a week because Monday was such a great experience that I went there every night for the rest of the week.
Appearing was the Trombone Sound, headed by Kai Winding and featuring, Carl Fontana (the greatest solo trombonist who ever lived), Wayne Andre and Dick Leib, plus a three-man rhythm section.
It wasn’t until recently that I discovered the group had made a “live” recording there one night (what other kind is there?) and I made it my business to acquire a copy.
Needless to say, I still have it.
As a true jazz venue, there is still Nightown, where I once witnessed the finest father-son piano duel of all time. It featured John and Michael Petrone. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
They are both good friends and are still playing. I think Mike is a regular at Johnny’s Downtown, but as far as I know John, who is retired from North High, plays only private parties.
Oh how I wish they had recorded that session! I have a lot of CDs by Michael, but nothing they ever recorded together.
As for the aforementioned Frank Daniels, I saw him play with the Continental Trio a thousand times – every place they ever went.
That includes Intorcio’s, the Town House, the White House, Seaway Lanes and Dream Haven. If you are not familiar with them, they were all local hot spots.
And yes, I do miss all of them.
But let me tell you something about Sammy’s in the Flats that you probably do not know. In fact, if you are aware of this you are probably deserving of some kind of a prize.
Sammy’s was once the Glasier Warehouse, a place that stored caskets for the Glasier Casket Co., operated by Joe Glasier and his father, Hank.
Later on they took on David Glasier, son of Joe. I knew Joe in high school. David worked in the casket business for many years.
If you have guessed that David is the same person who has emerged as a writer of renown and acclaim for The News-Herald, who just recently wrote a brilliantly researched three-part series on Jeffrey Lundgren, the Kirtland mass killer, you would be correct.
See the things you find out when you start reading an innocuous, all-purpose, one-size-fits-all column about jazz?
That knowledge, of course, will not restore Sammy’s to the world of jazz as we know it.





Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Organizations throughout Lake County are prepping for RNC

If you have ever clicked on the TV at 8 p.m. to watch goings-on at a political convention and that is the sum total of your experience in convention-watching, then there is a lot of the real action you have missed.
What happens on the convention floor, of course, is the real business of what the party is up to, for example, nominating a standard-bearer to run for president, but that is but a small slice of the overall picture.
Outside the convention hall, and for miles around, there are thousands of people partying, glad-handing, whooping it up and engaging in the merriment of the day.
And there are also many thousands of people who don’t go anywhere near the convention hall. But they are drawn like moths to a proverbial flame to the drama and the melodrama taking place at the center of the activity.
If you have never been at a convention, then you have limited knowledge of what is taking place.
You can read about it and watch it on TV, but there is nothing like actually being there to make you appreciate the roar of the greasepaint and the smell of the crowd, so to speak.
I have only one convention under my belt, but I have been able to extrapolate my experiences into a total knowledge package of big picture.
If you think I don’t know everything there is to know about conventions, go ahead, ask me. I will give you the inside dope.
The one I attended was the Democratic convention in Miami Beach in 1972. That was the memorable occasion at which George McGovern gave his acceptance speech to run for president in a nationally televised stem-winder at 3:20 a.m.
It was a masterpiece of bad timing. The campaign went downhill from there.
Since I was there, in person, soaking up the proceedings while a national TV audience of dozens, perhaps hundreds of insomniacs watched in awe, I am sure you can understand why I am considered an expert in such matters.
I became good friends there with one of the greatest political writers who ever lived, Hugh McDiarmid of the Dayton Daily News. He later moved on to Lansing, Mich.
We spent the nights in the convention hall, furiously taking notes so that we could dispatch stories back to our readers in Ohio, and afternoons sitting around the pool at our hotel, soaking up sunshine and watching one of our colleges from the former Cleveland Press attempting to set the world record for drinking Bloody Marys in one sitting.
Obviously, I am leading up to something. It is this: The Republican National Convention, at which the party’s candidate for president will be nominated, will be held in Cleveland in July 2016. I believe it starts July 18, and that is a ways off. But it is a big deal. A  VERY BIG deal. And it is also a big deal for us in Lake County. Here is why:
A political convention attracts huge masses of people. Only a small fraction of them are delegates. Most of them are family, friends, political types, office holders, influence peddlers, hangers-on, close observers, observers from afar, and the like.
They will take up every available hotel room in Cleveland and Cuyahoga County and spill over into all the adjoining counties. At least four large motels in Lake County will be solidly booked with people attracted by the convention.
This represents a marvelous, one-time opportunity to do land-office business for all of our attractions that are a lure to visitors. So open the gates and invite them in.
Nobody knows this better than Bob Ulas, head man of the Lake County Visitors Bureau. He and a large group of helpers have been meeting regularly for several weeks to try and figure out how to put the county’s best foot forward.
These are business people, office holders and other politicians. If you think they are all Republicans, you would be wrong, because the sweet aroma of dollars coming into the county from outside knows no political parents.
(The best meal by far served at one of the meetings was at Classic Park in Eastlake.)
So yes, both Republicans and Democrats are plotting ways to get convention followers to stay in our motels, eat in our restaurants, visit our wineries, ride our Laketran buses, play on our golf courses, swim at our beaches, indulge in our night life, visit our tourist attractions and, of course, spend a few bucks in our fair county.
The fathers and mothers of all this planning are not merely Republicans and Democrats. They are people with an eye toward promotion, people who want to see a great week take shape in our county.
In other words, people like you and me. Or, as the illiterate among us would say, people like you and I.
Sorry. If you are a regular reader, you know I couldn’t resist it.





Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Dale H. Fellows earns well-deserved honor from Willoughby Rotary Club

I would be hard-pressed to tell you how many Monday meetings of the Willoughby Rotary Club I have attended since 1961, when the club was chartered, but I have no trouble choosing the one which is my favorite every year.
It is the last meeting in January, because that is the one at which we honor a distinguished citizen and a distinguished civic organization.
This year that meeting will be Jan. 26 (it is always a Monday) and I want to tell you something very important right up front before we proceed.
That would be when and where it will be held, how much the tickets are and the fact that it is open to the public, meaning you and your friends are invited.
So mark this down in your date book. But don’t delay, because time is of the essence.
It will be a luncheon meeting, beginning at 11:30 a.m., at Pine Ridge Country Club in Wickliffe. Tickets are a bargain – $20 per person.
You can reserve a place by calling Kelsey at the Merhar Insurance Agency, 946-2040. Or send a check to her at 4077 Clark Ave., Willoughby, 44094. But hurry, time’s a-wasting.
The honorees this year are very special, which is to say they are in the long-standing tradition of selecting only the very best citizens and organizations as “distinguished.”
The distinguished citizen is Dale H. Fellows of Willoughby Hills. He embodies the very essence of true distinction.
He is possibly best-known as chairman of the Lake County Republican Party, a role in which he has excelled for many years.
(Why, you may wonder, would the Republican chairman be honored and not the Democratic chairman? Well, Dale lives in the western section of the county, which is the area served by the Willoughby Rotary Club. The Democratic chairman lives in the eastern section of the county. It would be some other group’s responsibility to honor him).
The list of Dale’s accomplishments is virtually endless. He has served as a Lake county commissioner, 20 years as a member of the Lake County Board of Elections, a trustee of Lakeland Community College, where he is a member of the Hall of Fame, several boards and commissions in Willoughby Hills, and that is only the beginning.
He has served in leadership roles with the Friends of James A. Garfield Historic Site, the Adoption Network of Cleveland, the Lake County Farmland Preservation Task Force, as a lector at St. Noel Parish in Willoughby Hills, as a board member of the Salvation Army and Boy Scouts of America, he has been a cubmaster and a scoutmaster, a member of the Lions and Rotary Clubs and so many more that I don’t have the space to list them all.
The list of special awards and recognitions he has received is equally as impressive.
Suffice it to say that he hasn’t missed much in the last 60 years. And his wife, Nancy, is a member of Willoughby Hills City Council.
I don’t know what they talk about at the dinner table, but it is unlikely there is ever a lull in the conversation.
Recipient of the second “distinguished” award, the civic organization, is the McKinley Community Outreach Center, at the former McKinley Elementary School on Lost Nation Road in Willoughby.
The spirit of goodness, mercy and helping those in need exudes from the center.
I hope you read the feature story about the center by Amy Popik in the paper Jan. 8. To say the story was comprehensive would almost be an understatement.
One of the good-hearted people who run the center is Pastor Mike Currier, but he has plenty of help. It is not in any sense a one-man operation.
He is pastor of the Body of Christ Church in Willoughby. Also meriting top billing are Don Perks, pastor of Willoughby United Methodist Church, and Eric Leissa, associate pastor of the Body of Christ Church.
They and their associates dispense food, clothing and tons of paper products to the deserving in the community which find themselves in need and have no place to turn.
I have been through the facility, and I cannot find the words to describe the multitude of good deeds that are performed in the name of charity, human decency and help for God’s creatures who are in desperate need of a helping hand.
If charity begins at home, it also begins at the northern end of Lost Nation Road.
The school was a great place when I went there in eighth grade, and it is an even better place now because of the good deeds and generous acts of kindness being done there on a daily basis.
I hope you can find the time to attend the “distinguished” luncheon at Pine Ridge Jan. 26.
And since the food there is catered by Dino’s,  you just know that it is going to be first rate. It could be the best $20 meal you’ve ever had.

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Thursday, January 8, 2015

Being grammaticality correct is not easy

When it comes to reading material, we all have our favorites.
Some like historical novels, some like poetry, others like anything that’s within reach, for example, the side of a cereal box.
A friend of mine once read an insurance policy simply because there was nothing else at hand and he was desperate for something to read.
I have a lot of favorite reading materials, but nothing beats a list – any kind of a list – for a little light reading matter to brighten up the day.
The first thing I saw when I turned on this computer was “The Top 25 Most Played Stories of...” I couldn’t wait to find out what they might be.
The thing about most lists is, we can all think of items we’d like to add. For example, if you were to read a compilation of the most fabulous movies all time, I am sure you could think of a couple you’d like to include.
The best vacation spots? The ugliest haircuts? The dopiest politicians? There’s a list for everything.
I saw a list the other day of “The Most Annoying People.” A great topic!
It started off with Johnny Manziel and Al Sharpton. The lady of the house said lists like that are not fair, because their mothers undoubtedly loved them, and would be terribly offended to find their sons so “honored.”
Well, OK. But I thought to myself, I hope I never get put on a list by someone who doesn’t like the way I part my hair.
The laugh would be on that swell person, because I don’t part my hair. I just put a little grease on it and brush it forward so that it looks like a cross between Frank Sinatra and Mark Hatfield.
If the latter name doesn’t ring a bell, he was a long-ago U.S. senator who was my role model for the well-groomed look.
But let’s think for a moment about most annoying habits. What would your friends say is your most annoying characteristic?
Ranking right up near the top for me, people might say, would be my obsession for correcting the grammar of people who fracture the king’s English.
I’m sorry, but when someone fractures a phrase, I cannot help but to point it out. I’m sorry, but it must be done. The lapse cannot pass without taking note of it.
Case in point: We were at a rather large gathering the other evening occasioned by the anniversary of a gentlemen’s social club to which I belong.
The man next in line to become international president of the organization was introduced.
After the applause subsided, he said: “I am glad that you invited my wife and I to be with you tonight.”
I leaned over and whispered to the lady of the house: “My wife and me.”
She looked at me quizzically. “He should have said, ‘my wife and me,’” I said.
The grammatical test is simple. You break the sentence down into its basic parts. You wouldn’t say, “Thank you for inviting my wife and thank you for inviting I.”
Of course you wouldn’t. You would say, “Thank you for inviting my wife and thank you for inviting me.”
Thus: “Thank you for inviting my wife and me.”
The example just cited is probably the most frequent assault on the language that is heard on a daily basis.
I went over and mentioned it to my friend, who had introduced our next president. It was not my intention for me to be overheard, but of course I was.
I’m sorry that I put it so crudely. What I said was, “I’m sad to say that our next president is illiterate.”
That was most unkind of me. And of course, when he  got up to speak, he pointed out in a very kind and gentle tone of voice that he had been “corrected by the editor.”
From now on, when I am offering words of wisdom, I must be more careful, lest I offend someone or hurt a person’s feelings.
That is the very last thing I want to do.
All I want to do is correct small errors of grammar so that we can all go about communicating in a way that will not offend your high school English teacher.


Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Being snake bitten can leave you feeling flat

Nothing is impossible.
Well, a few things are. For example, my father used to say that you can’t put your elbow in your ear. But what’s the point in trying to do that? It is an exercise in futility.
In the area of more practical endeavors, let’s look at some more relevant attempts to do the undoable.
A case in point: It is not possible to keep air in the left rear tire of my car. There must be a reason for this.
When Paul Brown ran the Cleveland Browns with such great success, he had a saying that applied to impossible situations. He called it being “snake bit.” When the same thing kept going wrong, over and over, he said the team was snake bit.
In other words, if there was no logical explanation for what was happening, he attributed it to being snake bit.
I am experiencing a similar situation. At least twice a week, I put air in my left rear tire.
On Sundays, my brother is with me. In the middle of the week I am by myself. I have two air gauges. One is the old-fashioned type. You push it down on the valve stem, the little stick pops out and you get a reading of the tire pressure.
The other gauge is much fancier. It gives you a digital reading to the nearest tenth of a pound.
The two gauges present similar readings – both of them presumably accurate. The car’s handbook says to inflate the tires to 30 pounds. We always put in 34. No matter. In a couple of days, the left rear goes down to 26 or 27 pounds. I find this very annoying.
The car is not very old. I bought it brand-new four years ago at Classic Chevolet in Mentor, where the people are all super friendly.
But even they can’t keep air in the left rear tire. By the way, the car has slightly over 22,000 miles on it, so the tires are definitely not wearing out.
The service man I had always dealt with, Ken Logar, is no longer there. He has been transferred to Classic in Madison. I presume he is making many new friends there.
I am not complaining, because I now deal with Jeff Gill in the Service Department, and he is very attentive to details. He listens carefully to everything I say.
I took the car in about a week ago, even though it wasn’t due for service. I got the oil changed – and I also got the tires rotated. I told Jeff about the left rear tire, the one that was snake bit.
When they were finished, and after I had availed myself of some of the legendary Classic hospitality by reading a newspaper and eating a complimentary apple, Jeff approached me in the lounge area and told me the problem had been fixed. The cranky tire on the left rear had been moved to the left front and a different wheel was installed on the left rear.
It should be OK now, Jeff assured me. They even did a little work on the rim so it would retain the air properly.
Here’s the news: The balky tire that was moved to the left front is now holding air as it is supposed to.
But guess what? The different tire they installed in the trouble spot on the left rear, and which had not previously leaked, now leaks. Yes, it goes down to 26 or 27 pounds within two or three days.
That left rear location is definitely, in the words of Paul Brown, snake bit. There is no other explanation. You never see a snake bite while it is taking place, of course. But the left rear tire on my car, even when the tires have been rotated, is snake bit.
I have always had the greatest respect for the legendary coach of the Browns, and when he said something was snake bit, he meant it.
I don’t know what to do next. I feel helpless. I can’t keep getting the tires rotated every week. And the car is far from being old enough to trade in.
Thankfully, I have an On Star button on the steering  wheel which I can push to get a reading on the pressure in all four tires.
I guess I will keep going to my friendly Sunoco station, the only place I ever buy gasoline, and pump some of their “free air” into the snake-bit left rear tire.
There are a lot of gas stations where you have to drop in four quarters just to get a pound of air.
Thank goodness “free air” is still free in some places around here.

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Out with the old, in with the new in 2015

The newspaper business being what it is – or was – we practitioners of the craft are slaves to the daily deadline.
I’m not sure there are deadlines any more, because so much of newspapering is now dominated by computers and blogs. Computers, as far as I know, have no deadlines. When you are finished, you post it, and that, for all practical purposes, is it.
I say that with tongue firmly in cheek, because I do not know it to be true – any more than I know anything else in the world is true. But I know that I, for one, do have a deadline for writing this piece because I write only once a week, and I am “posted” long before Sunday’s publication.
Which is an awfully long way of saying that I wrote this on Monday, three days before Christmas, but it will appear in print three days after Christmas. I realize that I am relentlessly beating around the bush, but I can’t help it, because I am trying to make sense out of the time warp I am wrapped inside.
For the next three days, after I arise from typing, I will be going about wishing people a Merry Christmas. But as you read this, unless you are reading on a blog by way of a computer, Christmas of 2014 is over, and the more appropriate salutation is Happy New Year, which I would like to wish all of you no matter when you read this.
The arrival of a New Year is an occasion for joy and happiness. And it should be, because we all have wonderful things to look forward to in 2015 (that is the first time I have ever written “2015.” I will have to get used to it.)
So I would like to end the old year on a happy note and begin the new year just as enthusiastically on a bright note. But I am compelled to inject a note of sadness. I hope it will not linger, but it is something I must address, so here goes.
I am extremely saddened that the area in which I live is losing another first-rate restaurant.
Dino’s on Route 306 in Willoughby has closed, never again to reopen – at least, under the recent ownership.
Since the building was only leased, not owned, by the family that ran Dino’s, it is my fervent hope that some new, enterprising purveyor of fine foods and wines will acquire it and fill the void as quickly as possible.
Oh, I know, Dino’s was still open as a party center as well as to large groups of people. But one or two folks couldn’t merely walk in, be seated at a table, and order from the menu, as the lady of the house and I so often did.
Yes, there were a few self-appointed experts who could always find fault, but they would probably find shortcomings with the Ritz-Carlton. In other words, there are people who can never be pleased, so I do not concern myself with them.
After Dino’s closed to public walk-ins, I still had the pleasure for the last year or so of having lunch there with the Lake County Chiefs of Police the first Wednesday of every month.
I am waiting now to hear from Willougbhy Chief Jack Beckwith where the January luncheon will be held. Meanwhile, I can only express sorrow at the closing of Dino’s.
There is still a Dino’s on East 305 St. in Wickliffe, and Dino’s still caters the fine food served at Pine Ridge Country Club in Wickliffe, so there will be several occasions when we will be going there. But no longer to the place on Route 306 – unless someone new opens it before long.
Parenthetically, all of the regulars at Dino’s have been wondering: What will be the fate of Darlene, the hostess everyone loved so much and who was such an asset to the place? She will surely end up serving the public in some capacity, hopefully  somewhere nearby.
Will she be at Pine Ridge? Will it be Manakiki? Her friends are waiting breathlessly to find out. I hope we don’t have to wait too long.
Dino’s on Route 306 was right across the street from another fine eatery, the Brown Derby, which is no longer open since it closed under a nefarious circumstance. It burned to the ground. Another great loss.
However, Dino’s is but one of a number of favorites of ours that closed voluntarily –  and for reasons I fully understand, even though I have never gotten around to a final act of forgiveness.
The lady of the house and I miss Gavi’s in Willoughby every day. Yes, I know, David and Mary have a fine restaurant in Gates Mills named for their beautiful daughter, Sara. But Gavi’s was practically in our back yard.
And the wonderful Helen’s Sunrise Cafe, across from the West End YMCA in Willoughby, is closed because our dear friend Helen got tired of getting up so early every day and working so hard.
There are other fine restaurants in the area that have closed, but I am tired of talking about it and get depressed just thinking about it.
Besides, this is a time of year to be happy, so I am closing out this year’s final effort by wishing all of you – each and every one of you – a happy, and a healthy and a  prosperous, New Year.
I’ll be seeing you next year – in all the old familiar places.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

College football league provides fun for the entire season

Football can be a series of bitter disappointments, going back as far as 1965.
It was the previous year that the Browns won an undisputed title.
Since then, not much to cheer about when the season ended.
But college football, for some reason, doesn’t elicit that same sour emotion. Maybe it’s because there are so many good teams we can follow. I was a close follower of Ohio State this season and that loyalty, such as it is, rewarded me handsomely – in good cheer, if not monetarily.
I will leave the gambling to others. I follow teams for the fun of it.
One of the college teams I do not follow is my alma mater, Kent State, because to do so would be something less than rewarding. The Flashes have sent some outstanding players into the National Football League, but none of them played at Kent in large enough groupings to sustain a team with a decent record.
I have written previously about the Lake County Football Prognosticators, a group of 10 young (or reasonably young) men who make it a sport to select four college teams and follow them throughout the season. Three are “regular” choices and there’s one “bonus” pick. We do pony up a modest amount of money, and I must say I had a pretty good season.
I won $1.50 (that’s a dollar and fifty cents) at the season-ending “payoff” meeting. In addition, I was the only player whose bonus team was undefeated, so I laid claim to the entire “bonus pool.”
Several people have asked me just who these Prognosticators are. Fortunately, I have been given permission to tell you. This came at our payoff meeting the other day, at which I threatened to expose them whether they liked it or not. So nobody put up a squawk.
But first, this is how our selection process goes. And by the way, this is not a secret society. Its boundaries are not limited, so anyone who seeks admission will probably be considered, although there are no guarantees, because I am not authorized to speak for the others. For all I know, they may limit membership to 10.
At our August selection meeting, Dave Clair writes 10 numbers on pieces of paper and places them in a hat, or some other receptacle that is suitable. Each player selects a number. But this is not the order of the draft. It is just the order in which we select the second number, from one to 10. That is the real order of the draft. Got it?
Then we begin the draft. Once a team is selected, it is gone, so to speak. The second player must pick from the remaining college teams. And so it goes until all players have chosen four teams.
John Trebets drew No. 1, and he chose Mount Union, as he did last year, when he also selected at the No. 1 spot. He is very lucky at choosing first, because he always gets Mount Union, and it never loses in the regular season (playoff games don’t count).
Just the last 10 games of the regular season are used in our final accounting, otherwise there would be hell to pay in summing things up. So I had a perfect season with my first pick, Ohio State, because the Buckeyes won their last 10 regular season games, and that upsetting loss early in the season to Virginia Tech did not matter in our standings.
Rick Stenger, picking in the No. 2 spot, chose Wisconsin Whitewater, always a coveted team because it seldom loses.
Geoff Weaver drafted next, and took Alabama, except the Tide lost a game and finished 9-1.
Choosing next, Rich Collins took Northwest Missouri State, and that was also a good choice, because it was also 9-1.
Parenthetically, some of our players have titles such as “judge” preceding their names, but I am not including them in this narrative because it really doesn’t matter. They get the same amount of respect as the other players, which is minimal.
But I digress.
Next up was John Hurley, and he took Oregon, which also was 9-1.
Next was Clair, and he took Mary Hardin Baylor, which, as expected, went  10-0. How I love that team. I would draft it every year if it were still available.
Choosing next was Vince Culotta, and he took Grand View of Iowa, which was 9-1. Then Marty Parks chose Florida State, which posted a 10-0 record.
I was next with my Ohio State pick, then choosing last was Dale Fellows, and he took Lenoir Rhyne, which finished 10-0.
Here is where the element of fairness comes in – in the second round, Dale chose first and John Trebets last. The choices are in reverse order.
We subtract losses from wins, so in the final accounting, Fellows led the pack with 28 points, Culotta was next with 26, then Trebets with 23, Weaver with 22, Parks and me with 20, Stenger with 18, Hurley with 14, Clair with 14 and Collins with 12.
Those numbers do not reflect whole dollars. They are merely fractions of dollars.
The bonus pool went in its entirety to me, because I chose Minnesota State Mankato, which lost nary a game. Correct, it was 10-0.
And why wasn’t Mankato chosen in the first three rounds? Just dumb luck, I guess. Who would know the team would have an undefeated season?
Dale and Vince did well because their other teams were New Hampshire and Morningside (Iowa), along with North Dakota State and Minnesota Duluth.
I hate to have to report this, but the team with the poorest record among the 40 drafted was Clair’s pick of Cumberlands, Ky. Last year was great. This year, at 3-7, not so good.