If only I was a Moronite I could come up with a topic

Nathan Domenighini, the barely shaving editor of this newspaper, before absconding the state last week for a vacation on the sweltering coast of Alabama, suggested I write a column for the Morton Times-News.

“People would just love to see you write a column,” he said with a straight face. “They love you.”

No doubt Nathan figured I’m so old I would not realize if I write a column, that is one less story he has to write.

So, I agreed to write a column for the paper I used to edit. I couldn’t stand to watch him pouting.

So, what to write about?

It’s been more than 12 years since I’ve done a Dr. Norm column. I’m long past due to reveal some interesting, and little known, tidbits about the mayor.

I used to do that when he was in charge of ignoring the media for the school district.

Dr. Norm was so walled off from the press that former Morton Fire Chief Dick Campbell — who once hosed down a TV camera crew who didn’t follow his directions — was often heard to remark, “I wish I had Dr. Norm’s most excellent media skills.”

Or, I could write a column about how I am still in disbelief that former village board member Jim Yordy, former mayor Robert Hertenstein, Dennis Ewald, Tom Neeley and Darrell Vierling never got together to start a DeWayne Bartels Fan Club. 

But, then again, it’s also been more than 12 years since I gave Scott Witzig a hard time about being the worst-dressed man in Morton.

I concluded Witzig’s fashion sense has not improved at all over the years after I saw his picture in the June issue of “Morton Matters” on the chamber Web site.

I worked so hard for so many years, even while he was working at his family’s fashion store, Witzig’s, to get him to see the light.

I heckled him in print. I heckled him on the radio. He’d just smile.  

Now, all these years later, I go to the Web and there is Scott, still smiling, while wearing a necktie so disgusting a starving goat would turn his nose up at it.

I just don’t get it.

I could write a column about the untold story of a Morton public official, who many, many years ago called me one day after he was arrested for DUI.

He asked the police to keep the report from my prying eyes. They told him it was too late. I already had it.

This official called me and said he wanted me to keep it out of the paper.

I said I couldn’t.

He begged me.

I said I wouldn’t kill it.

He said if I didn’t, he’d kill himself.

I yelled across the room to the editor and told her to save some space on the obit page and hung up the phone.

Nah, who wants to hear that old story?

I could do a column about Nick Graff, a cop so laid back and polite he makes Andy Griffith look like a maniac.

Maybe the story of how Nick was one day not so pleased about me taking pictures of a man named Charlie Brown, really, standing at the corner of Main and Jefferson with a sign that read, “Will work for sex.” No, that happens every day in Morton. That wouldn’t be interesting.
Well, what can I say?

I couldn’t think of a single thing to do a column on that would interest Morton residents. I better stick to writing about Peoria.