ED GEBHART

Diogenes was a Greek intellectual who lived in the Fourth Century. He was founder of the sect of Cynics, a group of philosophers who believed virtue is the only good and that its essence lies in self-control.

But you already knew that.

You also know that the old boy was so desperate to find "an honest man" that he wandered around Athens in broad daylight with a lantern in search of one.

Well, you may put your lantern away, Mr. Diogenes. I have found an honest man for you.

But first, some background. This most honest individual was found last Saturday in North Wildwood, N.J., at a swinging bar called Moore's Inlet. He was there with a thousand or so of his closest friends, attending something called "'Dogs on the Dunes."

This is an annual affair in which graduates of old St. James High School gather and pretend they really liked going to a school where (1) you had to wear a necktie and dress shirt everyday, (2) they actually made you learn Latin, (3) the nearest girl was a couple of miles away at Chester High and (4) the faculty contained priests whose 11th Commandment may have been, "Spare the Back of Your Hand and Spoil Forever That Clown in the Third Row."

Perhaps their memory suffers. While at St. James, they couldn't wait to get out of the place. Now they love it. Strange I never heard of anyone spending time in Alcatraz who longed for "the good old days" there.

This story concerns that honest man and someone known as "a friend of St. James." This friend does admire St. James, but then again, he never had to wear a necktie everyday, etc., etc., etc. It also concerns a contest called "50-50." That means many people buy a ticket, a number is called, and if the number on your ticket matches the number called, you split the pot with the sponsor.

What's that? You say you're shocked, shocked, that a form of gambling takes place at these events?

At any rate, this friend is about to leave the party around 5:30 p.m. when he realizes he hasn't purchased a 50-50 ticket. He is speaking with Mike Ritz, the alumni president, and advises him of his predicament. Ritz then sends a runner for Bill Van Horn Jr., son of the event chairman, who is selling the tickets. Money and tickets change hands.

Shortly thereafter, the friend heads for his car. Being a considerate soul, he is going to drive the car back to the entrance so the three elderly gentlemen he drove down with - Bobby Doubet, Jack Nacrelli and Herm Sweeney, in chronological order - won't have to walk very far in the rain.

He is halfway to his car when he realizes he still has his 50-50 tickets. If you aren't there when the winning number is called, you can't win. He hastily runs back to the party, minus a lantern but, like Diogenes, searching for an honest man.

He spies one at the front entrance. It is Jack Carr, St. James '59, funeral director, proud, hard-working Bulldog.

"Here, Jack," the friend says. "I know you're an honest man and besides, you don't need the money.

"Let me know," he adds jokingly, "how much I won."

About an hour later, the winning number is called.

No one calls to claim it. The number is called again, then once more. Still no answer.

"Wait a minute," Carr says, "Let me check the tickets that were left with me."

Sure enough, the ticket that had been purchased as an afterthought, that was halfway to a ride home before being brought back, that was assisted by the alumni president, that was sold by the son of the event chairman, that easily could have been switched by Mr. Carr, that was the winning ticket.

Making the thoughts of a fix even more tempting was the name of the person who pulled out the winning ticket, Joe Logue. He has been a friend of the friend for 50 years.

Of course, anyone who knows Mr. Logue also knows that he would become an atheist before he would do anything remotely dishonest.

The "friend" prefers that his name not be mentioned, nor the amount he won. Suffice to say he is a distinguished looking chap, prematurely gray, and a member of the Chester High Class of '48.

He won't reveal the amount he won since he is barely subsisting; and if his winnings were reported, he may lose his eligibility for food stamps.

He does thank Mr. Carr profusely, however, and he has some information for those young men who don't pay sufficient attention while being taught Greek at St. James.

Do you know Aristotle's nickname for Diogenes? I am not making this up.

It was "Dog."

Ed Gebhart is a retired public relations executive. His column appears Sunday and Friday.

ŠThe Daily Times 2001