The Courier Electronic Edition

Codgers cogitate about newest Findlay official


It had been several years since I’d seen Goose Lawrence and I.B. Nasty, but there they were, sitting in their normal spots when I stopped in at Wilson’s sandwich shop the other day for my usual: a “special” with onions and a black coffee.Just like old times, Nasty was sucking down a cup of Joe and Goose was blowing hot air, but this time it wasn’t coming from a cigarette.

“This public smoking ban is crazy,” Goose growled as he shoveled a spoon of chili in his mouth. “A guy should be able to smoke while he eats. Tobacco and food go together. Pretty soon we won’t have any rights left at all.”

“Nonsense,” Nasty huffed. “A person has a right to kill themselves by smoking if they want, but only in private. There should have been a law against smoking in public years ago.”

Sensing a fight was imminent, I tried to distract the old codgers.

“Hey guys, whaddaya think about the mayor stealing the Courier’s senior reporter and making him the city’s service director?” I blurted, wondering if either man even knew what I was talking about.

“Hiring Sobczyk is the best move Iriti’s made in four years,” Lawrence said, barely looking up. “Tony’s getting smart. It’s an election year. His singing doesn’t charm voters like it used to, and he knows he’s gotta have some good press this year.”

“Slim chance of that happening, especially if we have another flood,” Nasty said matter-of-factly. “Plus, that guy Graber is still covering the city government. He likes to keep things stirred up downtown. Who is this Slapstick guy anyway?”

Realizing my diversion tactic might not be working, I still felt obliged to set the record straight before moving on.

“I.B., the guy’s name is Sobczyk. Sounds like Sub-check,” I explain. “He was with the Courier for more than a quarter of a century. Business reporter mostly. Covered the city government early on, and followed Oxley around for years.”

“So he’s a Republican then,” scowled Nasty, a lifelong Democrat. “That explains it. They all stick together in this town.”

Not usually one to engage in a debate about politics, especially with these two, I steered clear.

“Actually, I don’t know how much politics entered into it,” I said. “I think the mayor just felt Mike was the right man for the job. He’d tried a banker and a Realtor, I guess it was time for a reporter.”

“So what makes this Subject fellow qualified to guide the city?” Nasty asked, apparently not catching my earlier pronunciation. “Does he have a bunch of degrees? Management experience?”

“Don’t you read the paper I.B.?” Lawrence butted in. “He’s an O.U. guy, journalism major, psychology and political science minor. I’ve heard he likes the Fighting Irish, the Browns and Indians. Kinda surprised the mayor hired a Cleveland guy...”

“Must have missed that article,” Nasty admitted. “But tell me, how does a guy go from reporter to service director overnight? And what makes you think Subchuck will last any longer than those other guys?”

“The name is Sobczyk, I.B. There are no guarantees in the world of politics, but the newsroom is betting on Mike,” I said. “We figure it’s about time reporters get some respect. I think many people believe we are a lower life form than lawyers.”

Surprisingly, Lawrence, who is usually critical of the media, then came to my defense, although I noted a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

“Come on I.B, do you think reporters just sit around the office all day waiting for bad news to happen? Every now and then they write something worthwhile, and I suspect there may be some reporters out there who even have ethics,” Lawrence said. “Personally, I think we could use more people with common sense in government and fewer people with political agendas. If it takes a reporter to do that, so be it.”

“Cheers,” I said, raising my coffee cup in a toast.

“Man, I could sure use a smoke,” Lawrence gasped, as if he was out of air. “Think that Sobczyk guy could get a smoking exemption for this place?”

“Doubt it,” Nasty said. “Nino’s can’t even get one.”

With that, I gulped down my last sip of coffee, and slinked out the back door.

Contact Staff Writer J. Steven Dillon at: (419) 427-8423 Send an e-mail to Steve Dillon