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August 17, 2008 Section: LOCAL/STATE Edition: Final/All Page: B01 Alligator hunters go on the prowl JESSICA RAYNOR Staff  JESSICA RAYNOR

Florida Today  LAKE WASHINGTON — The airboat skipped across Lake Washington, into the deep dark of night. A narrow light came from a spotlight strapped to the airboat captain’s head, as it swept arcs across the marshland.  It’s the best way to see the amber red glow of an alligator’s eyes. And on Friday night, the first day of the public alligator hunting season, alligators were what the two men in the boat wanted. The bigger the better.  Grayson Padrick of Central Florida Trophy Hunts in Cocoa steered the boat. Ron Long of Cincinnati sat perched at Padrick’s feet, a harpoon straddled across his lap.  They weren’t the only ones seeking big prey. Almost 1,000 gator-hunting permits were issued in Brevard County, and more than 5,000 statewide. Each permit allows a hunter to kill — or “harvest” — two alligators at least 18 inches long.  Padrick and Long began late, long after dusk. Long drove the 13 hours from Ohio with his friend Dean Moore of Somerville, Ohio, to Cocoa, where Padrick picked them up from the hotel and drove them out to Lake Washington, arriving after 9 p.m.  “It’s something else to hunt,” Long said, his explanation for why he’d go out on a marshy, buggy lake in late summer in the middle of the night. “If it’s got four legs or wings, I’ll hunt it.”  Padrick readied the hunting equipment, which consisted primarily of harpoons and a bang stick. Bang sticks are long lengths of tubing used for underwater firing at close range. They’re the only firearms allowed during the alligator hunting season, which continues until Nov. 1.  Padrick just missed a visit by Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission officers, who stopped at the Lake Washington boat ramp to check another airboat and make sure it was legally equipped.  “This is a pretty big night for us,” said Lt. Travis Franklin with FWC.  Once the gear was prepared, Long boarded Padrick’s boat. His friend Moore sat with another airboat operator. And with a loud, buzzing whir, the boats launched into the inky blackness of Lake Washington.  Hours went by. Spotlights from other hunters pierced the darkness. A full moon sat high in the sky, partially obscured by clouds.  “Small” 6-foot alligators swam close to the boat. Padrick looked them over, moved on.  “Too easy,” he said later.  The minute he saw red glowing eyes, Padrick raced the boat over and then slowed to an idle, shining the light straight into the water. At one point, Long stabbed his harpoon down, but just missed an alligator.  After midnight, he didn’t miss.  Padrick saw a big one in the marsh, came up quick on it, then slowed. Long hit it with the harpoon, but the alligator’s scaly back broke the harpoon point. Another throw stuck into the alligator. Another harpoon throw and the alligator thrashed before going still.  “That’s one fine gator, son,” Padrick said to Long, shaking his hand. Padrick estimated its length at about 10 feet.  Long aimed the bang stick and hit, right into the back of the alligator’s abnormally large head. The two men hauled the alligator onto the boat, taping its mouth shut before laying it across the airboat’s bow and tagging it, required by law.  “I’ve been to Africa, all kinds of places,” Long said. “This is more exciting than everything else.”  Contact Raynor at 360-1016 or jraynor@floridatoday.com.  ———————————————-  Rules of the hunt  — You can start hunting at one hour before sunset and continue to one hour after sunrise.  — Only the permitted licensed trapper and his licensed agents may possess the tags. Each permit allows two alligators to be harvested.  — Alligators may be taken only by the use of artificial lures or baited, wooden pegs less than two inches long attached to a hand-held restraining line and hand-held snares, harpoons, gigs, snatch hooks, and manually operated spears, spearguns, crossbows and bows with projectiles attached to a restraining line.  — The use of baited hooks, gig-equipped bang sticks, or firearms for taking alligators is prohibited except that bang sticks are permitted for taking alligators attached to a restraining line. Bang sticks are long sticks with a single bullet plugged into its end.  — Alligators shall be killed immediately upon capture.  Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission

Daily deliveries put carrier on road

By JESSICA RAYNOR
jraynor@amarillonet.com

HEREFORD – The rooster started crowing around 9:30 a.m., a little late for the normally early riser.

Maybe the postal box he was stored in was a little too dark and confining.

“Hear our rooster?” said Albert Sciumbato of Hereford, a rural mail carrier, as he sorted the day’s mail. “I had to kick the box to wake him up. He was sleeping too long.”

“Cockle-doodle-doo!” the rooster’s cry echoed in the Hereford Post Office.

Nobody looked up from work. Just another day at the office.

Sciumbato, a native of Hereford, has been dealing with such strange packages for 17 years. Each morning, he drives in from his farm to take on the task of delivering mail along a dusty, muddy and bumpy 120-mile route in the country.

He starts early, about 7:45 a.m. and picks up flats, post office lingo for big plastic tubs with magazines and catalogs. He stuffs each one into its proper metal slip, making sure he checks all the addresses.

Job Specs  Availability: Rural mail carrier routes are available throughout the Texas Panhandle. Check your local post office for employment opportunities.  Job Requirements: Applicants need to be 18 years old at time of appointment; be a U.S. citizen or permanent resident alien; have competency in English; pass a local criminal background check and an extensive criminal check upon employment; pass a drug test; pass a rural carrier test; and have a safe-driving record.  Compensation: A rural carrier’s salary is based on the route length and how long it takes to finish the route. Rural carriers also get mileage. The U.S. Postal Service would not release specific figures on salary.

The metered mail comes next – supposedly in order of address along the route. But if it’s not, Sciumbato has enough experience to know exactly where the right box is out of about 360 on Rural Route 1.

“Every customer counts,” Sciumbato said. “Every single one. Having carried the same route this many years, it’s not too bad. Usually there’s no major changes.”

Knowing his customers comes in handy. He knows when people have moved. He knows when people aren’t at home to sign for Priority Mail packages or certified mail. He pays for postage-due packages out of his pocket. He knows them beyond the addresses on the letters.

“When you carry a route for quite some time, you watch families grow up,” he said. “You watch kids grow up and go to college. You know when they go through good times and bad. The mailman does get pretty close to the patrons along the route.”

He gets pretty close to his vehicle, too. Back when he started, Sciumbato bought a 1984 Chevrolet S-10 Blazer he calls “Old Red.” He has the same truck and it now has 950,000 miles on it. That’s right, almost a million.

He said he gets about 250,000 miles an engine, then he rebuilds the engine to go another 250,000 miles. He does most of his own maintenance on his Blazer, with the help of a U.S. Postal Service mileage check.

“I just keep mine up,” he said. “If you put a new one (truck) out there, it wouldn’t be working so well after a while.”

The Personal Touch: Albert Sciumbato of Hereford delivers mail along Rural Route 1, a route he has carried for 17 years. Jessica Raynor/jraynor@amarillonet.com

A good working vehicle is important when you’re miles away from the city. You could be bumping along delivering your day’s mail, when suddenly your truck stops moving in the middle of nowhere.

“I’ve been stuck,” he said. “In farming, I thought I could drive through mud rather well. I still get stuck.

“One time I got stuck, I walked one mile, found a tractor with keys in it and pulled my Blazer out of the mud. I brought the tractor back and left a thank-you note in it.”

But before he gets out into the country, Sciumbato has to make sure which mail needs forwarding, which customers need to sign for something and which have packages.

Those packages could be as innocuous as Christmas gifts or as scary as a swarm of honeybees.

“A couple of them got out,” Sciumbato said, recalling the honeybee experience. “Even out of the boxes, they remained attached to the boxes. They were well-behaved, well-mannered. I appreciated that.”

Later he bundles up the mail in belts and puts them in a wheeled cart to bring out to his truck.

Once he loads the day’s mail, he sits in the passenger seat of his dusty truck and steers with his left hand as he sorts through mail and puts it in the boxes.

His four-hour tour of duty could get pretty lonely, but Sciumbato likes his independence. He’s practically his own boss.

“I’m proud of the job,” he said. “I enjoy it. I have no plans to retire.”

 

Web posted Friday, October 10, 2003
5:00 a.m. CT

Munchkin a Big Eater: Actor Jerry Maren, one of the Lollypop Kids in the Wizard of Oz, stopped at the Big Texan on Thursday and posed with the restaurant’s famed 72-ounce steak. Maren and other munchkins are on their way to Liberal, Kan., for festivities this weekend. Henry Bargas / hbargas@amarillonet.com

Munchkins enjoy reunions
Little people make journey for Oz-Fest

 

By JESSICA RAYNOR
jraynor@amarillonet.com

The man coming out of the Big Texan Steak Ranch on Thursday afternoon shook his head with a big grin on his face.

“There’s Munchkins in there!” he exclaimed in wonderment.

Yes, those Munchkins. The ones of Lollypop Guild fame. The ones who sent Dorothy on her way down the Yellow Brick Road about 65 years ago.

Three of the original cast members of “The Wizard of Oz” – Carl Stover, Clarence Swensen and Jerry Maren – stopped in Amarillo on their way to the annual Oz-Fest, a celebration of the movie, in Liberal, Kan.

They always go to the Big Texan before the big day to eat some grub and mingle with their fans. They nonchalantly ate their chicken-fried steaks and salads while curious people glanced their way, some taking pictures.

They don’t mind the attention. Far from it.

“We just enjoy being with the public,” said Swensen, one of the Munchkinland soldiers in the movie.

Swensen, 85, was a young 21 when he was tapped for the role in the movie. He said about 10 original Munchkins are left, and only six travel around to various festivals and speaking engagements.

Swensen said there is one person he wishes was still around: Judy Garland.

“Why couldn’t she be here with us now, so we could be together?” Swanson said.

Maren, 83, may be the most recognizable of the bunch, considering he had the high-profile role of the Lollypop Kid who handed a lollipop to Dorothy.

He was 18 at the time, and it was his first trip away from his home in Boston.

“I never met any little people in my life,” Maren said. “Then there I was surrounded by them.”

More than 100 little people worked long hours – sometimes from 6 a.m. until 11 p.m. They weren’t paid much, if at all, averaging about $50 each week. The dog that played Toto earned $125 each week, Maren said.

But they got the experience of watching movie-making in action, an experience that never failed to amaze them.

Maren remembered when the witch disappeared in one scene, having dropped through a trap door.

“She disappeared in front of my eyes,” Maren said.

Stover, 85, remembers going through the different rooms of the large set. Actors in rubber-tree suits practiced their facial expressions on the Munchkins – without them realizing what was going on.

“I turned to my roommate and said, ‘You know, that tree made a face at me”‘ said Stover, who had several roles, including trumpeter and one of the singers of “Yellow Brick Road.”

After the Big Texan, the group will head to Liberal, where it will stay this weekend. Swensen expects a big turnout at Oz-Fest on Saturday, swelling into the thousands.

It’s the mythic fairy tale that attracts the visitors, the actors said. It’s how endearing the movie was that makes it endure, they said.

“It’s fantasy,” Swensen said. “It’s something that grabs the minds of young kids and their (future) kids. It will never die.”