The News Journal from Wilmington, Delaware • Page 5

Boby face Ji i If: 1 i A A visit to Alice Stapleton's home In West Grove could be disconcerting to some, whet with all the eyes looking at you from every room, In the halls, even from the china cupboard. They're all loving eyes like those shown here, though, except for one pair that seems to be flirting. But, what else should a "real doll" do? See Page 8 for the story and more pictures. AD PC'jtfG Fred Bonner looks at the mar-Hi tournament. See Sunny Mild, Page 7.

Kennett Consolidated School Board creates a new position and hires somebody to fill it See Page Bacchus Players present Cole Porter andtritlc Robin Brown loves it See her review on Page 10. She skatei circles around the competition. Meet Patti Marsha-lewski in Compass Sports, Page 13. Whatever happened to concerts at the State Theater? Find out in a Compass Update by Gary Mul-Unas on Page 3. ffs tiv COM PASS A SUPPLEMENT TO THE NEWS-JOURNAL PAPERS COVERING GREATER NEWARK, CECIL COUNTY AND SOUTHERN CHESTER COUNTY VOLUME 49 JULY 24, 1980 money by building Cedar Hill.

But the federal government limits how much money Weiner can make on Cedar Hill, to be built under the Housing and Urban Development Department's (HUD) Section 8 regulations a 6-percent profit on an initial investment of $3.5 million, Elus some other profit incentives, ut people aren't against Cedar Hill because of the money Weiner will make. Why people are against Cedar Hill has been explained in many wavs first, there was the method of financing. County officials wanted some input into the project four-bedroom units would greatly increase the number of children in the area, again taxing schools. And they said the rents (a four-bedroom townhouse would rent for $619 a month) were out of line with area rents. Of course, underlying all the objections is a pervasive fear of the unknown.

No one is certain just what sort of people would occupy the 77-unit development, and this could mean "undesirables." Undesirables are people from Delaware or Harford County. Undesirables are the sort o( people who create "instant slums." James Fields, president of the would think be had proposed construction of shanty shacks with central air conditioning, three-car garages and built-in cockroaches. Few people seems to think Weiner's Cecil Tides proposed development Cedar Hill, is a very good idea. In Cecil County, Weiner often is looked upon as an ogre as someone who is trying to ram something down someone else's throat Naturally Weiner is going to make returns The surgery is successful. But recuperation takes time.

When the sturdy young man returns to work, be still has his job. He's thankful and determined even more to do his absolute best But once in while, he gets those twinges. He feels those old feelings, "inclinations to do things," but knows be has to tell himself that they said. And federal financing, the type Weiner is trying to get, allows for little or no local input. Then there was the environmental impact.

Although a techincal advisory committee had looked into the project's impact on the area, just outside North East, and Weiner had worked with the committee to revise his plans, the 'county commissioners say the development would place a burden on schools and increase traffic in the area. Then there was the unit mix and the "high" rents. The commissioners said they feared the high concentration of three- and University of Delaware, and became the third leading rusher in Blue Hen history, racking up a tremendous 2,967 yards in his three-year history. He was voted Outstanding Senior Player by the Wilmington Touchdown Club in 1975. The 6-foot-J-inch running back, who weighed in at 215 pounds, was twice selected for the East Coast Athletic Conference All-Star team.

When he graduated in 1976, the By MOLLY MURRAY Stopping a problem before it starts is sometimes a very good idea, particularly if the problem involves federally subsidized housing. But then, not everyone considers subsidized housing a problem. Some people think it's a pretty good idea. Take for example, Leon N. Weiner, a Wilmington developer who has built everything from posh suburban residences to low-cost housing for inner-city poor.

Weiner has a pretty good reputation as a builder. But in Cecil County you Beasley By ROBIN BROWN The heartbreaking scenario reads like a movie script The young athlete gets a job working with kids after a painfully near-miss with big-time football He's on bis way to planning his first community event There's a snowstorm and a car crash. He winds up in intensive care, later facing a touchy and often-dreaded operation, open-heart surgery. to Wilson Center after surgery phH bv sW0 Htftri Cecil County NAACP, wants the project. He points to areas in the county where people live in outright poverty.

He points to Dogwood Road, just outside of Elkton, and Warwick. Both areas would cloud even an optimist's view of the American Dream. People living in little more than lean-tos hot in summer, cold in winter. About 160 families throughout the county now have their names on waiting lists for public or subsidized housing, according to Elkton Housing Authority figures. Yet some area residents have SCOUMTUNS.PioO building." He explained wanting to set good example for the youngsters, admitting that many will look up to him because of his football career.

His attitude is one of "behaving in a way that they see that my behavior is accomplishing something in a constructive way, not just an emotional way." He also noted that there must be some effort to combat some of the public image that clings to the George M. Wilson Center from its early days, when the building housed the city's grade school for black residents. Occasionally, Beasley said, he has heard the center called the "old colored school," but he said that as community participation black and white in the center's programs grows, he hopes that the more prominent and lasting image will be one of "community center." For the success of the center, he said, "I do feel exposure's the key." His old football notoriety could help open a few doors in that area: "It's common for an athlete to be stereotyped. That's the big reason everyone thinks of me as Nate Beasley, the football player." But in the same way that he encourages the youngsters at the center to be well-rounded Beasley, who now prefers "Nathan," is working to go beyond his grid stardom. He had no doubts that he would succeed.

"I have the utmost confidence that I am fully capable of handling anything that presents itself" at the center. And, eventually, he'd like to produce children's television programs. He has thought that far Still there was no way to predict the crisis situation just days before his first major project at the Wilson Center. That event the center's third annual Gospel Festival, was set for Saturday, March 1, and Beasley was busy with final details. The weather was uncommonly Kentucky native was drafted by the Oakland Raiders, but like all the other rookies that year, was let go in the final cut at the pro team's re-season camp.

During that same time his father, Richard, died of cancer. His father, Beasley said, "encouraged me to participate in sports. It's something I've always appreciated him for having done. The 26-year-old explained with characteristic succinctness that coping with his father's death was "rougher than getting cut" Part of his ability to move on is seen one philosophical statement "All my life, I had made up my mind never to center my whole life around football." That was a decision that served him well when he was let go by Oakland. From there, he went to work as a management trainee in New Jersey, with the Blue Diamond Meat Co.

for almost a year. Then, for another year, he was self-employed as a disc jockey. Then in the fall of 1979, he returned to school itudy-ing communications as be bad before, but aiming for his master's degree to top his bachelor's in radio and television communications. In February 1980, Beasley landed a job as coordinator of Newark's George M. Wilson Community Center.

He was excited about the job, very excited. Having lived in Newark since 1972, Beasley said that part of his reason for pursuing the job with the city's Department of Parks and Recreation was that he "thought it was time to do more than just live here." Shortly after taking the job, Beasley said he'd "like to improve upon what's already here before I begin to bring in new things," noting that some Interior painting had been started and a television lounge was being fixed up. Tne heart of my Initial reaction to the center is, I want to instill a sense of pride." The matter of pride, be said, was "not only Just taking pride in the contact sports "are a thing of the past" The story isn't from Hollywood. It's pure Newark. Nate Beasley was one of the University of Delaware's top stars.

A Ed from the now-defunct Dover Force Base High School and one-time student at Delaware State, Beasley transferred to the Nathan W. Beasley, after a lengthy absence because of injuries he got In a car crash, is at the George M. Wilson Community Center. And, he says, he's glad to be back. fi fcnn1-iMTii-.