From Red Righter
Earlier this week I ran into Cuffs, one of my best informants, at the North Street Hotel. The man-on-the-street deep thinker has gained quite a reputation for offering unique solutions to seemingly difficult problems. “I read that piece in the Whig you wrote about Elkton needing a business boost,” he said, as he slid into my booth.
I smiled and nodded, thinking he was going to agree with my suggestion Elkton would benefit from an anchor store to attract folks downtown. I had suggested a new theater might do the trick.
Shaking his head, he got right to the point. “Way off,” he said. “Nobody’s gonna come into this town to hear song and dance acts. This ain’t the old days. Vaudeville’s dead, pal.”
Before I could protest, Cuffs added, “And who in their right mind is gonna drop a few mill into this ghost town for a new showplace. They got one up at the college in North East, a few others over in Newark, Chestertown. Duplication of effort.”
I was getting his drift, when he added, “The way to make this sleepy hollow a must-visit destination is obvious . . . .