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Looking back on a ‘pipe dream’

Sam Malone had enough with the hysteria caused by a so-called magic scale that “Coach” bought for the bar during Season 2, Episode 17 of the great television show “Cheers.”
When someone stood on the scale, it spit out a fortune, and the gang at the bar was believing in the magic. They were being driven crazy by it.
Finally, Sam, the bar owner, stepped in for some real talk.
“The scale is not magic,” he emphatically told the group. “You can’t take it seriously. And I’ll tell you something, it’s a sad world we live in when Sam Malone becomes the voice of reason.”
That is a quote my friend Joe Stimatz brought up to me when Matt Vincent and I wrote columns to laugh at the pie-in-the-sky “Destination Montana” scheme when it was floated to us by a snake-oil salesman in 2003.
“It’s a sad world we live in when Vinny and Foles become the voice of reason,” Joe said.
I had not thought about Destination Montana for years until it was brought up to me recently by two different people in a matter of a couple of days.
The first guy brought it up to compliment me. He said Vinny and I saw right through what should have been obvious to everyone else.
The other guy mentioned Destination Montana because he was ready to take a swing at me.
For those not old enough to remember, let’s recap what Destination Montana was all about when it was introduced to us in February of 2003.
The first part of the plan was easy, they said. All we had to do was get the Montana Legislature to grant Butte the right to have wide-open gambling in a section of the uptown. Bars would be able to stay open 24 hours, like in Las Vegas.
Bars on the Flats — and the rest of the state — still had to close at 2 a.m., and they couldn’t have wide-open gambling.
They said they would give one of the 10 casinos to Montana’s Indian tribes to share in an effort to appease the concerns of our lawmakers and our Native Americans.
That was going to happen just as soon as we brought peace to the Middle East. The tribes were never going to agree to that, and the very anti-Butte legislature was not going to go out on a limb for the Mining City.
The plan also needed money. Lots of money. The price tag was a $1.8 billion, a sticker price that at the time would have seemed crazy to Dr. Evil.
How were they going to get that money? They were going to tell us later.
In addition to the 10 major casinos, the plan called for 40 music halls, three PGA golf course, an amusement park, a training facility to lure NFL teams to come to Butte for their training camps and a partridge in a pear tree.
All of this was somehow said with a straight face.
Our council of commissioners voted to support the plan. Chief Executive Judy Jacobson supported the plan, though she seemed skeptical. The editor and publisher of The Montana Standard — our bosses — supported the plan.
Vinny and I also would have supported the plan — if we thought for one second that the plan was real. After all, we liked to go to the bars, and we disagreed at the time with the state-mandated closing at 2 a.m. We liked to gamble. We liked music. We liked amusement parks. We liked the NFL. We liked to golf.
But the plan did not pass the smell test. We saw that many in our community were falling for it out of desperation. At the time, we were losing the Montana Power Co., and the future economy of Butte was not looking good.
Destination Montana was giving false hope to people who did not have hope in a long, long time. We recognized that a shady character was pulling on the heartstrings of our fellow citizens, and we could not believe that the same shady character was about to get the key to our beloved home town.
So, Vinny and I stepped up to sound the alarm. We spoke up to state what should have been the obvious. This thing was not real. We called out Destination Montana for what it was. A pipe dream.
We didn’t stop the plan. The legislature and common sense eventually prevailed to end a plan that never had a chance in the first place.
In fact, I believe the snake-oil salesman never intended for the plan to take off. He was using the people of Butte for headlines to take to his next scam in a different city.
No, we were not very tactful in calling out the plan. We were not nice to the people who believed in it, and that is regretful. But we were telling the truth, and sometimes the truth has to be delivered in a brutal fashion for people to hear it.
Still, we were called names by many people. We could have papered walls in hour homes with the angry — and sometimes threatening — letters we received. One prominent real estate agent left me a voice mail calling me “anti-Butte.”
She never apologized when our words proved to be true.
Then, 21 years went by without hardly a thought of Destination Montana. The scam faded away with hardly a whimper.
In April of this year, though, a similar man came to speak to our Council of Commissioners about building a nuclear reactor out by REC Silicon, which had recently announced its plans for a partial closure because of high electricity prices.
This small nuclear reactor would save the company. It would also sell cheap electricity to the mine, ensuring that Butte would be prosperous for decades to come.
Our chief executive called it “real,” citing the expertise of his father-in-law, who is a nuclear engineer. Some of our commissioners also bought the plan and were ready to give the key to the city to a guy they had previously never met or Googled.
There was one small problem with the plan. Nearly every word that the guy with the nuclear plan said at the meeting of the Council of Commissioners turned out to be false.
As I Googled and texted questions to people who would know better during the meeting, I was reminded of the words of Joe in 2003.
“It’s a sad world we live in when Foles becomes the voice of reason.”
A few days later, Tom Lutey, a reporter for The Billings Gazette, exposed the plan as not real.
The next time I thought about Destination Montana was a couple of weeks ago when, while walking my dogs, I ran into the man who was happy to praise Vinny and me in hindsight.
Three days later, I ran into a guy who used to work as an electrician with my dad. He put his finger in my face as he told me that I “ran thousands of jobs out of town” because I didn’t support Destination Montana.
He told me that he would have choked me if he would have seen me in 2003. The look on his face made me believe he was thinking of such an attempt presently.
Since I did not have the power to approve or deny anything in the plan, I was puzzled by this. I also thought that I need to come up with something to sell this guy.
If he stills believe in Destination Montana 21 years after the plan was exposed as the unrealistic pipe dream that it was, then it is not out of the question that he would pay top dollar for a bridge.
It’s never fun to be the “voice of reason.” But 21 years after Destination Montana, I am pretty damn proud that Vinny and I had the guts to give it a try.
Even if it almost got me choked out.
— Bill Foley, who is willing to risk a choking or two for sticking up for his hometown, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.
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Podcast No. 215: Debbie Sorensen

Kenny Sailors is the man who invented the modern jump shot. But his contributions to this world go well beyond the game of basketball.
Debbie Sorensen met Kenny long after he was a basketball star. She first knew him as a neighbor in Alaska in the 1970s, and Debbie and her husband quickly became good friends with Kenny and his wife.
Sailors passed away at the age of 95 in 2016, but his story lives on thanks to Sorensen. Her new book “Beyond The Jump Shot: The Elevated Life of Kenny Sailors” will make sure of that.
The book is the first by Sorensen, a Butte resident who grew up in Belt, a small town 22 miles east of Great Falls. It is a book about a man who was an inspiration to others his entire life. One person particularly inspired by Kenny was Sorensen.
In her book, you will learn about him first putting the jump shot to use, and you will learn about him starting girls’ basketball in Alaska later in life. You will learn about the deep faith that drove Kenny to greatness.
Debbie’s book is a story of basketball and life that will elevate and inspire its readers to believe and try something different. The book was ranked No. 1 on Amazon in the youth and young adult basketball book category on its recent release.
Debbie will be holding a signing this Saturday from 11a.m. to 3 p.m. at Second Edition Books, 112 South Montana St. in Butte.
Today’s podcast with Debbie is presented by Casagranda’s Steakhouse. Eat where the locals eat.

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Podcast No. 214: Greg Salo

Greg Salo belongs to a very exclusive group in the Mining City. That is to say that he earned All-American honors as a football player at Butte High School.
Salo eared that honor while playing for the Bulldogs in 1969. That was his third straight year as an All-State inside linebacker for the Bulldogs. He also started at quarterback during that senior season, tossing nine touchdown passes.
He was a key member of Butte High’s back-to-back State championship teams in 1967 and 1968.
Salo, who also played three years on the varsity basketball team at Butte High, went to UCLA to play football. According to a newspaper story announcing his signing at UCLA, Salo said he picked the Bruins over about 30 other schools that recruited him.
After one season in Los Angeles, Salo transferred to the University of Montana, where he played linebacker for the Grizzlies.
Of course, more people probably know Salo as a coach. His long coaching run included almost a decade at Montana State, where he served as the defensive coordinator for the Bobcats. Then he became head coach at Butte High School, where he led the Bulldogs from 2002 through 2007.
Salo was known as a bit of a no-nonsense coach who got the most out of his players. He knew when to chew a player out and when to give him a pat on the back.
His tenure at Butte High included coaching Colt Anderson, who went on to an All-American career with the Grizzlies and a nine-year career in the NFL. Anderson is currently the special teams coordinator for the Tennessee Titans.
Today’s podcast is presented by Thriftway Super Stops. Download the TLC app and start saving today.

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Podcast No. 213: Ben Alke

Ben Alke is running for Attorney General of Montana. He is the Democratic Party nominee, and he is from Bozeman.
But is mother is from Butte, and he grew up in Helena. So, we’ll forgive that Bozeman thing. Ben graduated from Helena Capital High School in 1997, and then went to Notre Dame for his undergraduate degree and Northwestern in Chicago for law school.
Ben was a solid cross country runner and golfer for the Bruins. After his high school golf tournaments, he said he felt at most home when he was hanging out with the Butte High guys — like Chad Lisac and Bob McCloskey.
Ben is running against Austin Knudsen, Montana’s Attorney General whose four years have been plagued by scandal while his office has been highly political.
Ben figured he just might be nuts to get into a statewide race. He never saw himself going into politics. He didn’t even run for student council in high school. But he felt like he needed to.
Like when your buddy is in a fight in a bar, you just have to step in and help out. That is how Ben sees his fight to return the rule of law back to the Attorney General’s office.
Today’s podcast is presented by Leskovar Honda, home of the 20-year, 200,000-mile warrantee.
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An easy solution to the ‘dog problem’

One day after school, I was going to go for a jog with my new third-grade buddy Jeff Hartwick.
We planned to run about 2 and a half miles. It was a course that started at my house just below the Mountain Con Mine, and we would run over by the Kennedy Elementary School and back.
I had run the course with my mom before, but never by myself or with a friend.
We jogged from the Corner of Buffalo Street and Main Street to the corner of Buffalo and Montana Street. After that jaunt of a quarter of a mile or so, we realized our run was over because we couldn’t figure out a way to go.
“We can’t go that way,” Jeff said, pointing to the south.
If we went that way, there were a couple of older kids who might beat us up for treading on their turf. This was probably a paranoid thought, but we both believed that we would be risking our lives if we continued in that direction.
“Well, we can’t go up there,” I said. “There are a couple of mean dogs that will tear us apart.”
That thought was not so irrational. This was the fall of 1983, and the Butte Hill was Dog Heaven.
Everyone had a dog, and nobody believed in leash laws. We didn’t even believe in fences with closed gates.
Getting a dog in Butte back then meant that the whole neighborhood got a dog. It meant the people walking by your house got a dog to greet them — or to tell them to take a different route.
My family was as guilty as anyone. We had a little free-ranging dog who was hit by a car and killed in October of my first-grade year. The next May, we got a German Shephard/Huskey cross from the pound.
Even though she was female, we named her “Butch” because she reminded my dad of his old dog by the same name. She was the best dog, and she was very protective of her family.
Butch used to walk me to school. That ended the worry I had about bullies or other dogs.
Then, I trusted her to find her way home, where she would await my return. After that, she would accompany me just about everywhere I went — but for some reason she wasn’t with Jeff and me that day.
On the way home from school, I was on my own. I got out an hour before my older brother, so I didn’t have anyone to look out for me.
Usually there was a group of kids who walked with me at least a little bit of the way, but they were no protection against dogs and bullies.
Some of them were even bullies themselves.
One time as I walked home from the Blaine School alone, I had an aggressive Dobermann Pincher come at me. As I walked across the empty field on Wells Street, heading toward the Centerville skating rink, the dog kept biting my arms. He tore a couple of holes in my hand-me-down winter coat.
He wasn’t trying to kill me, though I thought he might be at the time. He was probably trying to play, but I was scared to death until a man came running out of his house to chase the dog away from me.
I couldn’t even say “thank you” to the man. I just ran home as fast as I could.
After that, the only thing I feared more than that Dobermann was the older boy whose family owned the Dobermann. I figured I at least had a chance to reason with dog.
Plus, it is no coincidence that the mean dog had a mean owner. I will always believe the old saying that there is no such thing as a bad dog. There are only bad dog owners.
Yes, we used to have a real dog problem in Butte. One ornery dog would hold an entire neighborhood hostage.
I don’t look back on those days as being bad, though. Actually, I kind of liked that so many people had dogs that they took care of. It was easier to take care of them that way, too. You could go on vacation, and your neighbors would look after your dog — even if you never told your neighbors you were going on vacation.
That problem lasted into the 21st Century before the county cracked down. For the last 20 years or so, you could go for a jog around uptown Butte without worrying about being attacked by a dog. For the most part.
The Butte Hill might still resemble Dog Heaven, but most of those dogs are confined to their yards.
It is starting to seem a bit like old times in Butte, though. The days of dogs with a bad disposition making some residents fearful when on their evening strolls seemed to have returned.
That is due largely to a couple of dogs who have been threatening people who walk on the walking trail through the old Con Mine yard up to the Granite Mountain Memorial. The dogs show their teeth, and there have been Facebook reports that they have bitten people.
My dad has had a few run ins with these dogs, who showed their teeth while convincing him to walk a different direction from his preferred daily routine.
He has called animal control multiple times. The last time he called, one officer told him that he could not do much about it. He said he issued the dog owners tickets, but nothing much more came of it.
Then he told my dad that those dogs are actually kind of scaredy cats. He advised my dad to pretend like he is going to go after the dogs. Then, they would run away.
That might have been the worst advice I have ever heard.
A woman posted on Facebook this weekend that she was attacked by those same dogs on the walking trail. The next day, another woman said she, too, was attacked by the same dogs.
However, upon further investigation, I believe the second woman was attacked by two different dogs who are also often out of their yard.
Yes, it seems like we might have a bit of a dog problem in Butte again. Actually, it is more of a people problem, and it goes well beyond the Butte Hill.
That problem should be relatively easy to solve, however. All we need is a little accountability.
The late Jeff Gibson was the longtime opinion editor and columnist at The Montana Standard. Back in the late 1990s, he offered a great solution to the dog problem.
Jeff said we should simply charge the owner with the act the dog was accused of committing. Notice I said “accused.” Even dogs should be afforded due process.
If a dog bites you, then the owners of the dog should be charged with biting you. If your dog barks all night long, you should be charged as if you stood out in your yard and yelled “hey, hey, hey” all night long.
If your dog poops in a neighbor’s yard, well, you get the point.
As Jeff laid it out, it is pretty simple. If your dog does the crime, you do the time. That would help some of these irresponsible dog owners learn some responsibility in a hurry, and dogs could prove once and for all that they really are not the problem at all.
It’s a people problem, and we must deal with these people.
Then those good citizens walking the streets and trails would no longer feel the way Jeff and I felt on the corner of Montana and Buffalo back in the third grade.
— Bill Foley, who would take a bullet for his dogs, can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74. Listen to him on the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.

















