The Philadelphia Inquirer from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania • Page 9

316 inquirer WEDNESDAY March 20, 1991 CLASSIFIED, on 6-B SUBURBAN SECTION BUCKS CHESTER DELAWARE MONTGOMERY i2ottfe iroi'f exhibit sounds of silence By B. J. PHILLIPS METRO By Marie McCullough Inquirer Stall Writer in a The old riddle asks: If a tree falls deserted forest, does it make a sound? The new Blue Route poses this variation: If they build a less noisy highway, but no human ear can tell, was it a wasted effort? base with a flexible asphalt! overlay. But that would have been an experiment." The Blue Route would have been all concrett in fact, two short concrete sections completed 17 years ago have since been overlaid with asphalt if not for the task force that addressed environmental issues, including noise, about five years ago. Swarthmore College, a task force member, hired Lou Cohn, an acoustics-sonics expert from the University of Louisville.

His voice was heard loud and clear. "None of us Icommunity representatives knew anything about highways," recalled task force member Kendall Landis, retired vice (See BLUE ROUTE on 4-B) Blue Route will have to be resurfaced in eight years, instead of 20 years with concrete. Sounds messy. Sounds expensive. Not to worry, says PennDot's Gary Hoffman, who points out that because asphalt resurfacing is much quicker than concrete, traffic disruption can be limited to off-rush hours.

He says the cost also averages out. Over 40 years, PennDot figures that the 16-inch-deep asphalt will cost $340,000 per lane mile, compared with $382,000 for concrete, Hoffman said. But he lent an ear toward second-guessing. "In retrospect," Hoffman said, "we may have wanted to consider a composite a concrete dense asphalt the kind being used on the Blue Route, Interstate 476 is only two or three decibels quieter than concrete. How much is that? Imagine that someone talking from four feet away takes two steps away.

The difference you would hear is about five decibels more than the pavement differences. "When you're talking within three decibels, you cannot hear the difference," said Soren Pedersen, a design development analyst with the Ontario Ministry of Transportation, which has extensively researched road noise. There's another catch. Since asphalt is less durable than concrete, the Pennsylvania Department of Transportation estimates that the When the Blue Route is finished sometime in the next year, it will be the state's first all-asphalt interstate, an innovation that should make the road quieter than its concrete That might sound great for residents whose homes border the 21.5-mile highway. But there's a catch.

Most studies show that Hard times for swans Old pianos never die, they just go to ballet schools. Where, unfortunately, they don't fade away, but are pounded monotonously ONE-two-three! ONE-two-three! in endless accompaniment to the creation of swans. It is a very long way from the exhausted, out-of-tune piano and a drafty rehearsal hall to the lush intonations of an orchestra and a spotlighted stage. If the Pennsylvania Ballet folds after the weekend as it shall unless a miracle happens the distance will become a bit longer still. Childhood dreams have to have some hope of coming true, after all.

But the evidence of this city is that dancers' dreams are hollow as hol low as the cultural pretensions of the people who could have put the com pany on a sound financial footing years ago, and still could do so today. The renown of the Philadelphia Orchestra, deserved as it is, serves as a Potemkin village an ornate fa cade obscuring the emptiness of the city cultural promise. Smaller cities than Philadelphia not only support ballet companies, they underwrite a more vigorous cultural scene, period. Next to Phila I ill! 1 'ili'li HMnY fa i fXrriif delphia, San Francisco, whose metropolitan area holds just 80,000 more people, has the artistic life of a Euro pean capital. Never mind comparisons to New York.

This city's got to shake it to beat off the Denvers and Atlantas. Charles ton stages more opera, and more bal lets are performed in Jackson, Miss. (yes, Jackson, M-1-SS-I-S5-I-P-P-1). No shortage of money In the U.S. city with the most money Amish boy dies; had rare illness Family declined expensive care By Donald C.

Drake inquirer Stall Writer A seriously ill Amish baby, whose parents refused to burden their small community with the huge medical costs of keeping him alive, has died. The 8-month-old boy apparently died from an overwhelming infection that his body could not fight because of a genetic defect that had crippled his immune system, according to doctors who had followed his case. His illness had grown progressively worse over the last two weeks as he lost weight and breathing became more difficult, probably from pneumonia. By the end of last week, said a family acquaintance, he was so weak that his parents never left his side and took turns staying up with him through the night. He died at 4:30 a.m.

Saturday in his father's arms. Several months earlier, doctors at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia had warned the parents that infections would kill the boy unless he had weekly treatments with PEG-ADA, a new drug that counteracts the genetic defect called adenosine deaminase deficiency. The drug cost $2,200 a treatment, not counting laboratory tests and periodic hospitalizations. Altogether, the cost of therapy would have been $190,000 a year, probably for life. With an annual income of $3,000 and no medical insurance because their Amish sect rejects such things, the parents couldn't possibly pay for this.

So they turned for help to their small community of 80 Amish families in central Pennsylvania. For nine days the young parents the father is 24 and the mother 27 huddled with the elders and bishop of their religious community discussing what should be done. Many times before, the community had raised many thousands of dollars for the medical bills of its members. But in this case, the bills could have kept mounting for years with no guarantee that the new therapy would work. Rather than burden their community with all this, the parents, who insisted on anonymity before discussing their case with The Inquirer, finally decided to forgo the medical treatments that might have saved their only child.

After the parents declined to have their child treated, Enzon Inc. of South Plainfield, N.J., which manufactures PEG-ADA, offered to give the drug to the family for free. But the other costs of therapy would still under trust management which is to say with the greatest inherited Special to The Inquirer JIM ROESE wealth it was a process more pain ful than a tortured death to raise the money for a new concert hall. Before that, the last time folks here pitched in and built a hall, the Civil Tony Mazzccua (left) and Craig Datesman collect cans placed above cell doors for a recycling project that aids youths. Lifers help youths stay out of jail War was four years away, yueen vic toria had not yet reached middle age and the Indians still ruled the Great Plains.

It used to be that the Museum of Art was more noted for the collections of native sons that didn't hang in its galleries. Now it is better "We have taken a life, and so we feel it's our responsibility to save a life now," says a Graterford inmate. known for Sylvester Stallone run ning up its steps. Both facts deserve each other. Great art.

great performances are miracles that have been made to hap pen, built from the kernel of talent school. Jackson's father never heeded his own advice he was slain when Jackson was 16. Seven years later the teenager's best friend was gunned down. "That could still happen to me and I don't want it to," Jackson said. To help Jackson and other members of Youth at Risk, Lifers an umbrella organization for inmate community service projects, also is raising money.

Since January, fund-raising, including cell-to-cell solicitations and a recycling project, has drummed up more than $1,200. "Some of the guys really surprised me, even ones with no (See PEN PALS on 2-B) By Stella M. Eisele Special to The Inquirer His messages are simple: Stay in school. Stay away from drugs. Stay off the streets.

But when Harold Staten, a lifer at Graterford Prison, writes to his pen pal, Jay Jackson, 18, he hopes the old-fashioned advice will hit home. "Maybe I can open his eyes a little bit to see that the road he's on is not the road he wants to be on," said Staten, 38, who is one of about IS inmates exchanging monthly letters with teenagers enrolled in Youth at Risk, a nationwide juvenile delinquency intervention program. The men, most of them lifers at the maximum-security state through the hardest of work. That process, with all its mingled sacrifice and joy, needs a certain atmosphere in which to flourish. It needs the professional ranks, the big leagues, and Philadelphia is about to become has no arrest record, but had dropped out of school before joining Youth at Risk last fall.

He grew up with the lure of the streets easy money, fast cars, wild times and with warnings about the pitfalls. "My father was a drug dealer and a pimp, but he didn't want any of his kids to get into that," said Jackson, who's back in prison in Montgomery County, started the pen pal program in January to help keep youths like Jackson from joining the prison rolls. "We have taken a life and so we feel it's our responsibility to save a life now," said lifer and project coordinator Craig Datesman, 37. Jackson, who lives in the West Oak Lane section of Philadelphia, a minor league town of dance. There will be consequences if it does.

Past problems Warsaw-born Edmund Novak danced with the Ballet Russe de Monte Carlo before coming here 30 years ago to open a ballet school in Rosemont. He points out that this Phik's Most Wanted' claims its first fugitive isn't the first time the Pennsylvania Ballet's future was on the line. The uncertainty, he says, is reflected in the dwindling number of students By Bill Miller and Robert J. Terry who dream of careers in dance. inquirer stall Writer! For a local cable-television show, "There are not many professionally minded students any more," he says.

"Fifteen years ago, I had 20 students Philadelphia's Most Wanted has quite a reach all the way, as one suspect found out, to Caracas, Venezuela. who tried to make a career; today I have one. This is a great sadness for me, because I am not able to make my genio Laboy, 17, of North Philadelphia, early July 16, 1989, after an argument. Ruiz opened fire from the rear of a limousine that pulled alongside a Mustang convertible carrying Laboy in Old City, police said. He disappeared during his November trial in Common Pleas Court.

Ruiz, then free on bail, excused himself to use a restroom and never came back. The trial continued, and a jury convicted him of murder and other charges. Police said they were not sure how long Ruiz, formerly of South Philadelphia, had been abroad. Acting on a viewer tip, Philadel picture of Ruiz on America's Most Wanted, the Fox television network's crime-stopping show. Philadelphia's Most Wanted is patterned after the Fox show but is not as slick.

"Then he told me, 'No, I mean Philadelphia's Most y'know, Channel 66," said Lt. Arthur Dur-rant, of the homicide division. Philadelphia's Most Wanted is produced monthly. Greater Media airs plenty of repeats IS for its 66,000 subscribers in South Philadelphia, Center City and sections of Southwest and North Philadelphia. Ruiz was convicted of killing Eu- Most Wanted, a 30-minute program that debuted this month on Channel 66, the neighborhood channel for Greater Media Cable of Philadelphia.

On the show, police ask viewers to help them find suspects. An anonymous caller contacted homicide detectives once Sunday and twice Monday, advising police that Ruiz was jailed in Caracas. Police said Ruiz indeed turned out to be in prison after a recent arrest for drug trafficking. Ruiz was the first catch of Philadelphia's Most Wanted. At first, the tipster said he saw a have amounted to more than $70,000 a year, so the parents refused the offer.

Six weeks ago, in desperation, local pediatrician Vito Caserta offered to teach the family how to administer the drug themselves and do other things to minimize hospital visits, but still the parents would not agree. More than 200 people from the congregation crowded into the baby's home for funeral services Sunday. Doctors say the parents have about one chance in four of having another child with the same genetic defect dream to train dancers. Bo Spassoff, director of the Penn phia police yesterday said they have tracked convicted killer Jimmy Ruiz to a jail in Caracas. Police said they are working with the FBI to have sylvania Ballet School, says that when he conducts auditions, there Ruiz returned to serve his lite sentence for a 1989 killing here.

are plenty of youngsters, but a sharp drop at the senior levels, age 17 and up. It is then that a career becomes a Ruiz. 21. was among 11 fugitives described by police on Philadelphia's real possibility and that students drop out. "The economic impact of a dance career comes home and the kids be Catania to end 27 years come aware of what it will mean," Spassoff says.

"That's when the ranks get pretty sparse. Tie those yellow ribbons, then pick up that trash as Delaware County judge Not for money Dancers make peanuts in compari By Patrick Scott Special to The Inquirer Paf Jul son to school librarians, never mina backup singers or utility infielders. Francis J. Catania, a major influ But money isn't the point. The song ence on the Delaware County judi says they do it for love.

But even the most dedicated danc ciary in his 27 years as a Common Pleas Court judge, announced yesterday that he would step down from er has a hard time surviving when ballet companies fold. When a major company of unquestioned quality such as the Pennsylvania Ballet can not keep its doors open, the message sinks in and the dancers drop out. It's one thing to make a bad living for love and another thing entirely to be unable to make a steady bad living returning from the Persian Gulf. The other is meant to show appreciation to Pennsylvania firms that supported the reservists. "It sends a message that we're grateM," said Rep.

George E. Saur-man Montgomery), sponsor of the resolution. "It also," he commends, L.r x- presses gratitude to the all the companies thai t. ople that are reservists." Saurman said he had not studied the cost of his proposal but guessed it wouldn't be much. He said that turnpike crews could tie the ribbons on while they were picking up trash and that the actual cost of the ribbons wouldn't amount to much.

Said Saurman: "We're talking 1,000 ribbons. What's a ribbon cost? If we're talking a dollar a ribbon, that's $1,000." Tie a yellow ribbon round 960 turnpike mile markers. It's been three long months, do you still want me? By Robert Zausner Inquirer Harnsburg Bureau HARRISBURG The lyrics may not be quite as catchy as those recorded in the 1970s by Tony Orlando and Dawn, but they are based on what could become reality if a House resolution is passed. Under the measure, the Pennsylvania Turnpike Commission would be directed to tie a yellow ribbon on every mile marker going both ways on the 480-mile highway spanning "from the Delaware River to the Ohio border and on the Northeast Extension." There is a dual purpose to the resolution. One is aimed at the troops Judges president by his colleagues in 1976 and was chosen to serve two more five-year terms in 1981 and 1986.

During that time, the caseload in Common Pleas Court multiplied and the Board of Judges was expanded from five to 16 members, plus senior judges, said President Judge William R. Toal Jr. "That takes some doing, keeping up with the administrative end of it and dealing with all the judges," Toal said. Judge Frank T. Hazel said that under Catania, the court was in the "forefront of change" in the judicial system because Catania was "terribly receptive to new ideas and not unwilling to try them." Among his most notable moments on the bench, Catania said, was his appointment by the state Supreme Court to hear the 1974 murder trial of Tony Boyle, the former head of the United Mine Workers union.

In one of the county's most cele brated cases, Catania presided over for love. "The money is here, enough to support the ballet and all the rest of the arts," Edmund Novak insists, his position as a senior judge May 1. A longtime president of the county Board of Judges, Catania was appointed to senior judge status last March, upon turning 70. He continued to preside over Orphans' Court, which he had headed since 1976. Catania said his immediate plans included a trip to Florida to improve his golf game and to consider job offers he had received from Philadelphia and Delaware County law firms.

"It will be a different courthouse without him, that's for sure," said James F. Proud, president of the Delaware County Bar Association. Within the judiciary and without, he had clout "because people respected his judgment," Proud said. Catania was elected Board of "but nobody wants to give." The piano begins again. ONE-two- three! ONE-two-three! Francis J.

Catania Plans travel and more work both of Boyle's trials, in 1974 and 1979. Boyle was convicted of ordering the murder of union reformer Joseph "Jock" Yablonski and his wife and daughter. Catania sentenced Boyle to three consecutive life prison terms. "Other than that, I reported to work every day and did my duty," he said. The little girls bend and jump, not very gracefully, not very high.

Still, who knows? Someday, one of them mav be a swan. But unless somebody wants to give, she'll have to go somewhere else to find out..