PENN STATE... R.I.P.


My cell vibrated on the table.

"Woody, sweetheart. How you doing, baby?"

"Well, as I live and breath, Olympia Washington," I said.

"It's my voice, right?"

"So low, so smooth. Real sexy. This is a nice surprise."

"My customers love it too, over the phone.  At $4.99 a minute,
life is wonderful, baby.  Well, it was."  

"But, my dear, it's 5 am.  Is it not about your quitting time?"

"Matter of fact, yes it is.  Hey, I'm off the clock."  Her voice changed. Higher, sharper.
"I got something for you, for your sports column.  I'm looking for that $250
reward. You wanted something from the horse's mouth.  A scoop. So I got you a scoop."

"I'll pay, but, depends.  What do you  have?" I said.

"Sweet Jimmy, calls me every Wednesday night. Usually takes him about fifteen minutes. But not this time. He just cried for a good 45 minutes.  At $4.99 an minute, it was a dream call, wasn't for all that crying. He just wanted to talked.  He didn't want to listen to me."

"How could that be?" I said.

"Yeah, you know.? Usually a lot of loud noises, but no, he was crying on his own, and it was all about that football coach at Penn State, the sex stuff with the little kids." 

"Penn State football, sounds promising." I said.

"I felt so bad.  Said he worked close with the athletic department at Penn State.  It was about sports, so I though of you.  We got a deal?"

"I'll admit. This does sound intriguing. Please, go on."

"We tape everything here, so we can practice our delivery, you know, hone our art, talking to guys.  Anyway, just listen to this.  It's Sweet Jimmy.  He cries all the way through this."

She clicked on the recorder.

     'Little boys in the locker room...how sick.  Olympia, I  just had to tell somebody..

     'Joe saying it was just a way for the University to get him fired, and coach McQuery, trying to cover himself saying later he broke it up in the shower...after he though about his story that he "did the right thing'" by just telling Joe.  If he walked away, he's just as bad. I would've taken a tire-iron to the perverts knees, then call the cops instead of waiting till the next day to tell somebody.

     'Students going crazy for Joe...What about those little kids being screwed up for life...where's the outrage...what is going on...for years and years...The hell with Joe's legacy.

     'Everybody trying to cover their ass.  Joe saying, I did what I thought was best...he's lost his humanity...his soul.  Fire the son on a bitch on the spot...then call the police,...That's the right thing to do, come on Joe.  Tell some trustee or somebody, then forget about it?  It went on for years.  I was around it all too. I heard rumors, but...what's best for the University.  That's crap.  How come no one broke in and stopped it?  So Sick.

      'And what is Franko doing now?... trying to defending Joe?'

The man, Sweet Jimmy, stopped crying, and took a deep breath.

      'Paterno is no better than the other scumbags who look the other way...can't have any bad publicity for their school and the football team.

     'Unless Joe was deaf, dumb and blind for nine years he saw Sandusky slinking around campus, and still did nothing... because he told the athletic director, so he was in the clear?

     'Are we completely lost?  University too big to fail?  A man recruiting little kids from his own charity...then taking them on the road...meeting with other coaches...all around the country...
kids for hire...how sick are these people?'

She clicked off the recorder.

"There's more on the tape. Sweet Jimmy just kept on, and on.  So,  I just let him talk, 45 minutes, at least, at $4.99 a minute."

"Quite a story," I said.

"You're telling me. The coach should have fired the guy on the spot.  Scumbags.  Why didn't anyone put a stop to it?"

"I think you can feel how it was." I said.

"I can?"

"As I see it, your job, over the phone, is to get guys excited, right?  Take maybe ten minutes, work your vocal magic, to create satisfied customers, so they'll hurry back for another happy ending?  Am I close?"

"You make it sound so ...technical. Okay, sure, but with Sweet Jimmy, I just let him talk. Why stop him, all that money.  Woody, $4.99 a minute."

"Shouldn't you tell your supervisor.  Don't you have rules?"

"Woody, what rules, make as much money as you can talking to guys."

"You didn't want to stop him. You were making too much money."

Silence.

"I see what you're saying.  Big university making so much money from football.  Fire the guy and word gets out. Then the University looks bad. Okay, you're right, $4.99 came first. Come on, I felt kinda bad for the guy, really, like I was robbing him, but, hey, I didn't want to lose the money by telling him to stop....But Woody,  little kids."

Silence.

"You're right.  It was hard to stop him.  You feel kinda trapped."

"So, for $250," I said. "I'll have to have his name  His real name.  Interview him myself."

"Woody, Come on.  I can't do that.  He'll never call me again."

I thought for a minute.

"OK...$250. It's a good story.  Send me the tape"

"Thank you, Woody."

"Talk to you again soon.  Olympia, tell me, you really that sexy?"

"Oh, baby, you don't know!"