Mr. Beamish's Little Joke

Utility cohorts in Lehigh and Berks Proceeded to hand Gifford Pinchot the

works.

When stately Journalist Richard Joseph Beamish wrote that jingle for the Philadelphia Record in 1930 the utility whose cohorts he had particularly in mind was big Pennsylvania Power & Light Co. Gifford Pinchot, elected Pennsylvania's Governor despite the "works" from Pennsylvania Power & Light, found a job for Mr. Beamish. As secretary of the Commonwealth, Mr. Beamish had plenty of opportunities to state his views about the public utilities. During the campaign of 1934 he wet his finger, held it up in the wind and hastily became a Democrat. So when Governor George Earle set up a new Public Utility Commission early this year there was no reason why Mr. Beamish should not be one of the commissioners.

There were four others, but because of his journalistic past and his beribboned spectacles and his imposing paunch, Mr. Beamish received most attention from the press. For six months he proceeded to put Pennsylvania utilities, in his own phrase, "through the wringer." The rates of Philadelphia Electric Co., for example, were lowered so as to reduce its revenue more than $3,000,000 a year. And last week he was feeling especially satisfied, for in a wild scene that would not have been out of place in a comic opera, he had at last succeeded in humiliating his old antipathy, Pennsylvania Power & Light.

Pennsylvania Power & Light and Lehigh Valley Transit Co. are subsidiaries of Lehigh Power Securities Corp. (which is in turn a subsidiary of National Power & Light Co., an Electric Bond & Share Co. affiliate). Although Pennsylvania Power already had contracts for emergency power from three other power companies and even from Bethlehem Steel, in 1928 it leased from Lehigh Valley Transit for $500,000 a year a turbo-generating plant at the corner of Front & Linden streets in Allentown. To date $4,300,000 has been paid for the rental of this emergency plant and in nine years it has been used twice-- most recently for a few days during the 1936 floods. That time it had two weeks in which to get going, but to justify including the cost of its rental in the rate base, a company official testified a few weeks ago that in an emergency it could turn out power on an hour's notice. "We waited until they had committed themselves fully," said Mr. Beamish smugly, "then we sprang the trap."

At 3:45 one afternoon last week three Utility Commission engineers and a lawyer, John C. Kelley, rapped at the door of the Allentown plant. Mr. Kelley presented the superintendent, a Pennsylvania Dutchman named Fenstermacher, with a formal notice from Mr. Beamish. Superintendent Fenstermacher gave a guttural gasp. The notice read: "I assume that a theoretical breakdown of considerable magnitude has taken place. ..." With Allentown plunged into theoretical darkness, demand was made that the plant produce power immediately. There were only five men in the plant and the nearest skilled help was 200 miles away in Williamsport. Superintendent Fenstermacher sent a frantic call to his company's 23-story Allentown office building. Vice President N. S. Reinicker hurried over with 20 elevator operators who crawled impetuously inside the boilers to start fires with kindling wood. Two hours later Lawyer Kelley telephoned Mr. Beamish that the men were "working like mad." At 10 p.m. the first steam was let gingerly into one of five generators. At 11, electricity began to trickle out to Pennsylvania Power & Light lines.

One of the generators was entirely too decrepit to function. By next day three others had started, but one promptly broke down when an oil line clogged. The fifth, Superintendent Fenstermacher was surprised to discover, turned out only 25 cycle current, which is no longer used. H. A. Gould, one of the Commission's engineers, wired Mr. Beamish: "Plant worked by an emergency crew nearly 100 men and cost terrific." Steam was leaking through dried-up gaskets. Coffee and impromptu sandwiches were served in a room once used for repairing meters but the men felt so sick from oil fumes that they did not feel like eating anything. Mr. Beamish's engineers stood around, not helping. A little less than three days after Lawyer Kelley delivered Mr. Beamish's ultimatum, the plant was finally producing 24,000 kilowatt hours out of its capacity of 37,000. Lawyer Kelley then relented, told the men the test was over and they could go home and get some sleep.

Said Mr. Beamish happily: "This proves the people are paying $500,000 a year for nothing."

Snapped a Pennsylvania Power & Light

official: "No comment."

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