It happened so long ago, at a time when I still retained some semblance of a full head of hair. But no matter how many years go by, I will never forget the experience because it made for the most enjoyable day ever in my three decades-long newspaper career
It was the day Fritz Reed agreed to take me on a "real" tour of the Northumberland County Courthouse. Since my regular beat was covering the courts and the workings of county government, I really didn't need anyone to show me where civil suits were filed, where dog licenses were purchased and the location of the nearest
men's room. What I was interested
in was those out-of-the way places in the courthouse that the public and most county workers never get to see; I thought readers of The News-Item would be interested in them, too.
Fritz, of course, was a "working" register and recorder; he was there every day (and all day) and rolled up his sleeves to actively involve himself in the day-to-day work of the office. But he graciously agreed to take time out of his busy schedule. After he commandeered a set of keys from the maintenance department and after I convinced a young, attractive female member of the courthouse staff to serve as a photo subject, the expedition proceeded.
Fritz first led us on a whirlwind excursion to the bowels of the courthouse basement, where historical records dating back to the inception of Northumberland County were stored. What a treasure trove for historians, I thought, as Fritz enthusiastically recounted the significance of particular documents. It's rare, but not unheard of, for average citizens to glimpse some of these archives, but then Fritz took our small, but intrepid, party to places where truly few people have ever ventured.
I cannot recall whether we climbed some out-of-the-way stairway or an obscure ladder, but quicker than you can say "vertigo," we were walking on a catwalk above a courtroom ceiling. I think we made sure before starting out that Judge Ranck wasn't conducting any business in his courtroom on that particular day. Had county solicitor Vince Makowski known about this safari, he probably would have insisted that the young lady and I sign waivers releasing the county from any liability.
Mind you, Fritz didn't just offer occasional comments like, "Oh, here we are walking above Courtroom No. 1," He talked about how much space there was above the courtroom, space that could have been/might have been/might well still be used some day to add additional courtroom space. Then came the "piece de resistance."
After walking across the length of the courtroom ceiling, we again came to either a stairway or a ladder and climbed up to and into the courthouse clock tower. I remember looking out, toward Cameron Park (but not down). In my years on the courthouse beat - my best years of all at The News-Item - I covered murder trials, the inevitable commissioner controversies and the many unusual but otherwise exciting adventures of Judge Peter Krehel, but nothing quite equaled that moment. I had truly gone where possibly no county journalists had gone before - thanks to Fritz.
I realized right then and there - Fritz didn't just love his job; he loved the courthouse and the people it served. That was where his heart was.
When I started covering the courthouse in 1975, Chat Moore my predecessor on the beat, offered one piece of sage advice: "Keep in close contact with Fritz, Harry (Wallick, the prothonotary), Lou (Horvath, the controller) and Johnny 'Y,' (Yastishak, court administrator), and you will be all right." Fritz is the last of these outstanding gentlemen to leave us.
I wasn't the only reporter who counted Fritz as a friend. He was, in fact, a favorite of the working press from the three county newspapers throughout the almost three decades he held county office. You could always depend on him to steer you in the right direction, not by betraying a confidence or by trying to make a fellow officeholder look bad, but by offering valuable insight that helped you ask the right questions or gain perspective.
Fritz's service in county office coincided with the tenures of 14 county commissioners, six Democrats and eight Republicans. Although he was a loyal Republican (make no mistake about that), he enjoyed, by and large, a cordial relationship with most of these commissioners, some of whose time in office was much briefer than others. But Fritz zealously guarded the prerogatives of his office; the duties of the register of wills, recorder of deeds and clerk of the orphan's court were specifically laid out in the county code, and God help anyone who wanted to hamstring the operation of his office in the legitimate performance of its duties.
Fritz was in only one competitive county election, his first in 1973, which he won by less than 600 votes. He won future races by ever-increasing majorities, even one by a margin of 3-to-1. Democrats controlled the commissioners office for all but four years of Fritz's tenure, yet even the most loyal, diehard Democrats split their tickets and voted for him. How could you not? Where could you possibly find someone better suited to do the job?
Fritz surely belongs at the top echelon of Northumberland County's premier politicians of the last quarter of the 20th century, in the company of such greats as Jim Kelley, Bob Belfanti, Merle Phillips and Ed Helrick. He could himself have been a county commissioner, and indeed there were those in the GOP who, hungry for victory, tried to persuade him to become a candidate. But Fritz was never governed, as so many politicians are, by pure ego. He kept on doing what he loved - providing the best possible service to his "clients" which included the court, attorneys from within and from outside the county and, especially, the general public.
Years after his retirement, Fritz held one more elective office - as a member of the Northumberland County Home Rule Study Commission, which was formed in response to what were viewed as the fiscal excesses of the administration of Commissioners Allen Cwalina and Chap Lewis, both of whom resigned in 2003. Fritz faithfully attended all commission meetings, and in fact was one of the hardest-working commission members.
From beginning to end, Fritz was an opponent of home rule. He was concerned that a home rule charter, frivolously written and without regard for tradition and proper office functions, would lead to chaos and additional abuses. He led the successful effort to defeat the charter at the polls, Well-meaning people can debate whether or not home rule had merit, but there is no denying that in his mid-70s, Fritz still had the best interests of county government and county citizens at heart.
Fritz, like few other public officials, transcended regional cultures in a county that is far from homogenous. He actually bridged the gap between the coal region, county seat and panhandle. He was as much at home at a festival in McEwensville as he was chatting at the downtown farmer's market in Shamokin with former classmates and past customers of Reed's Dairy. He felt a strong affinity for the entire county, and no one had more knowledge about the history of each and every community.
Coal region history, especially, is woefully neglected, but that certainly wasn't Fritz's fault. His tours of Shamokin Cemetery which he conducted as part of the Anthracite Heritage Festival were masterful performances. Fritz knew all about Shamokin's pioneers - Monroe Kulp, Snapper Reese, Kimber Cleaver, et. al - and, with the help of talented enactors, he brought their amazing accomplishments to life. What a gift to the people of the Shamokin-Coal Township area!
Let us fervently hope - and pray - that his sterling record of public service and his love for local history serves as an example for others in the sprawling Northumberland County community.
God bless you, Fritz. Your legion of friends will forever miss you.
(Frederick "Fritz" Reed, who died Thursday, will be buried today at Odd Fellows Cemetery, Coal Township.)