Tale of Two Mayors

Burlington, Vt., Oct. 21 (UPI).-The mayors of Burlington and Rutland, Vt. said they would buy plane tickets home from Florida at their own expense because the Air Force junket they were on was a "fraud, a terrible waste of tax money." . . ."It's a damned outrage [said Rutland's Mayor Dan J. Healy], an outrage being perpetrated not only on the taxpayers of Vermont, but the entire U.S." . . ."The whole thing is a fraud [said Burlington's Mayor James E. Fitzpatrick], a terrible waste of tax money and our time. We're coming home . . ."

The tale of the two mayors began innocently enough after Burlington's Mayor Fitzpatrick, 51, and Rutland's Mayor

Healy, 62, accepted invitations from the Air Defense Command to witness an interceptor missile shoot called Project William Tell II at Tyndall Air Force Base (near Panama City, Fla.)--and, incidentally, to absorb some good-natured press-agentry that would help still public complaints over loud jet noises and chimney-rattling sonic booms.

Shortage of Dancing Girls. But once the two mayors were buckled in their C121 (Constellation) seats for the flight to Tyndall, the story of their disillusionment--as recorded in sworn statements by Air Force and civilian witnesses and bolstered by Air Force movies--read differently. First off, Mayor Fitzpatrick asked if there were a bar on the plane. Told that Air Force planes are not so equipped, the mayor said: "Well, boy, I've got my own bar." Soon. Healy and Fitzpatrick, after pouring drinks for some other passengers, finished off one fifth, then another ("Here's the second dead soldier," remarked a steward, as he tossed an empty into the trash), then topped them off with an extra pint. Never really boisterous, the two men spent their time bending the ears of other passengers on the junket. "Hell," burbled one mayor, "we're not down here to look at this meet; we're down here to have a good time. When are you going to bring on the dancing girls?"

The mayors were still flying when their aircraft stopped at the ramp at Tyndall. Mayor Healy, in fact, swayed so much as he egg-walked down the steps that an officer stood by to catch him. When an Air Force car drove Healy and Fitzpatrick to their billet at a motel 30 miles away, the two mayors, says Motel Owner Fred Faulkner, "had to be helped to their room." And when an officer arrived later to give them some information about Project William Tell, Healy made three requests: he did not want to be bothered with any of "this William Tell stuff," he wanted jet rides arranged, and he wanted transportation set up for their departure for Vermont.

More Dead Than Alive. Next day, as the 100 or so other Air Force guests crowded around closed-circuit TV sets at Tyndall to watch the high-altitude shoots, Healy and Fitzpatrick. who did not show up for the demonstration, decided that they had had enough of that "William Tell stuff." To Motel Keeper Faulkner's relief, they made plane reservations for New Orleans, bought their own plane tickets, paid Faulkner $32 for long-distance calls, and went away, leaving two more dead soldiers behind.

Back in their home towns at week's end, James Fitzpatrick and Dan Healy, both Democrats, both known in their areas for promoting economy in government, soberly tch-tched over the Air Force's wanton waste of taxpayers' money. Said an Air Force official, with consummate delicacy: "It is regrettable that the mayors did not avail themselves of the opportunity given them here to observe the tests of the qualities of the nation's air-defense team." Live soldiers, that is.

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