Home > Gwinnett > Rick Badie / My Opinion > Archives > 2005 > October
October 2005
Humvee dealer sells the real deal
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
When Ben Cowart cranks up his Humvee, his neighbors definitely hear it. The 16.2-liter diesel engine roars.
This isn’t your typical civilian-style Hummer with all the slick comfort features. Cowart has the Real McCoy. Military style.
Actually, the Duluth resident has about 70 of them. If you’re in the market, go see him. He’ll sell you one. However many you want.
“Hum-vee parking only,” reads a sign posted on the four-car garage of Cowart’s home. He keeps a few Hummers there, just in case someone’s interested. The rest of the fleet is kept at an undisclosed location. Cowart won’t say where. Something to do with a partnership that went sour.
“Having a bad partnership is like going through a divorce,” he said, laughing. He’s sitting in the living room, wearing cowboy boots, jeans and a Western shirt. Dammit, his hyper terrier, is happy to see me. Cowart shoos him away. Then he points to a picture of the beloved pet Dammit replaced. The remains of Georgia, a white bulldog, rest in an urn. He lived to be 17.
Sometimes Cowart thinks it’s going to take that long to sell all of the 135 Humvees he and a former partner bought four years ago. Surplus military vehicles were being sold at an auction in Atlanta.
Now he runs Military Vehicle Specialities (www.Xhumvee.com), an online business. He subcontracts with someone to do the engine and body work. Then sells them for $35,000 to $50,000 a pop. Customers hail from all over the country. Mostly farmers and hunters with land to roam.
“They send me the money. I send them the truck,” he said. “I seldom see my customers. The manufacturers charge $80,000. We charge half of that, and ours are refurbished to look like new.”
Cowart was born in Chamblee and raised in Dunwoody. He attended college, had a blast and never graduated. He’s a developer by trade. He buys and sells land. Builds houses, too. He’s also worked in law enforcement as a reserve deputy sheriff in Gwinnett and Fulton counties.
Which brings me to the command reconnaissance vehicle, otherwise known as a tank. Cowart got it in exchange for a Humvee. He couldn’t sell it. So he donated it. To Gwinnett County Sheriff Butch Conway. You may have read about it. It sure caught my eye.
The Sheriff’s Department plans to use it for tactical situations — rescuing officers and responding to natural disasters. Cowart got a tax write-off and a little peace of mind.
“If it keeps one of my friends from getting hurt, it’s worth it,” the 40-year-old bachelor said.
Cowart admits he’s a lot better at making land deals than selling Hummers. Right now, this Humvee-selling venture is more hobby than business. He won’t call it a complete bust, though. Plenty of people sell military equipment. Few sell military Humvees.
He knows two other entrepreneurs who specialize in them. They’ve talked to him about buying his stock. So he may be sold out by the end of the year.
No doubt, he’ll keep one for himself.
Permalink | |
Help keep the doors open for needy
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Nikki Averett was one of two assistant managers at a retail store.
One of them had to go. She got the ax.
Unemployment has brought on hard times.
Relatives help out where they can. Of course, it’s not enough.
So Nikki called United Way, and learned about the Norcross Cooperative Ministry, a nonprofit on Mitchell Street.
On Wednesday, she joined a standing-room-only crowd of desperate men, women and their babies. Lots of crying babies.
Except for Arianna, Nikki’s 16-month-old daughter.
She flashed several smiles at the volunteer who helped her mother with food and other services. Nikki, a first-time client, marveled at the efficiency of the agency.
“I didn’t think I’d get help on the same day I applied,” the 2002 Lithonia High grad said. “They are really nice here.”
These days, though, agencies like the Norcross co-op are as desperate as the people who turn to them.
Money to help clients pay bills is running thin. Food is in short supply.
Yet the people, be they the general public or hurricane victims, keep coming.
Overwhelmed officials don’t know where to turn.
They’ve made frantic calls and sent e-mails for help to Ellen Gerstein, the executive director of the Gwinnett Coalition for Health and Human Services.
Months ago, she predicted the outpouring of aid for hurricane victims would hurt the coffers of nonprofits.
She was right.
“We’re desperate,” Gerstein said, “and it’s very serious. Companies say they are dry, and people aren’t contributing to the normal fund-raisers.”
Gerstein thinks there’s hope for a turnaround. You and me. She wants us to join the 2005 Gwinnett Great Days of Service.
The annual event debuted five years ago as a way for businesses and individuals to devote time, talent and resources to needy causes. This year, 170 projects have been identified, but not all of them have sponsors.
A breakfast to kick off this year’s event is set for 7:30 a.m. Friday at the Discover Mills Food Court.
If you go, please bring items to help restock the county’s cooperatives: canned goods, gas cards, clothes and other sundries. Toys, too.
“Food is the big thing right now,” said Shirley Cabe, who oversees the Norcross agency. “And we need blankets and jackets, especially for our evacuee families. What I don’t want to become is another closed door in their face.”
The nonprofits are more than places that give handouts.
They try to match clients with employers, too.
Nikki signed up for a job service program, and before she left Wednesday, she jotted down information posted on a bulletin board about clerical jobs.
“Any kind of help they can give me to find a job, I’m willing to take it,” the 21-year-old single mom told me.
And when she’s employed again, Nikki made a promise: “I’m going to do something for this agency,” she said. “As soon as I get on my feet.”
• Rick Badie’s column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. He can be reached at rbadie@ajc.com; 770-263-3875.
Consumers rethink typical heating methods
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Judy Perri backed her SUV as close as she could get it to the woodpile.
She stocked up on oak and hickory logs Monday at P&W Produce in Lilburn. Her house off Killian Hill Road has two fireplaces — in the kitchen and family room. They’ll come in handy this winter.
“I’m very concerned about heating costs,” said Perri, a New Jersey transplant. “They’re talking about big increases.”
The heat is on in Gwinnett. People are snapping up firewood, gas logs, wood-burning stoves and fireplaces. Some energy-conserving products are on back order. Panic may be too strong a word, but it’s not too far off the mark.
“It’s a 360-degree turnaround from last year,” said Deanna Dupont, co-owner of Pyro Techniques Fireplace & Patio in Buford. “I have them lining up for gas logs, and I get calls everyday from people looking for wood-burning stoves.”
This winter, Georgia consumers are expected to pay 56 percent more to heat their homes with natural gas. Federal officials say folks in these parts are likely to spend $1,038 to stay warm. That’s about $400 higher than last year’s fuel bills.
And because of that, people are taking steps to help them weather the winter financially. When AJC Gwinnett News asked readers what they thought about the rising heating costs, some of the responses sounded desperate.
“I know already I won’t be able to pay,” James Bentley Beasley of Lawrenceville wrote. “I’m carpooling and still charging my gasoline, and the balance isn’t getting paid off every month. Eventually, I’ll be in the tank. What are we supposed to do?
“Surely, we are not alone in this.”
When your budget is already stretched thin like Beasley’s, $400 may as well be $3 million. Initially, it doesn’t sound like much. Then you start thinking about gas for the car(s). Putting food on the table. Keeping the lights on. Throw in the unexpected expenditure, and you’re hanging by a thread.
We’ve heard the explanations: That less U.S. natural gas production has rendered supplies tight. That Gulf Coast production hasn’t recovered from Katrina. And that we, me and you, consume and depend way too much on the stuff. The truth is out there somewhere. Getting to it is difficult, so we accept it as fact and prepare.
This is the greatest country in the world. Surely, by now, we could have figured out a plausible way to heat our homes and fuel our cars that doesn’t bankrupt those who pay for it. There must be a better way, one that doesn’t create financial pain for us.
“I can feel the anxiety of the people,” said Adam Soyah, president of Universal, a heating and cooling retailer in Norcross. “The people don’t know which way to go. They just know that the government has told them that gas is going to go up, and that they must do something. It’s a situation you don’t want to be in.”
Too late.
• Rick Badie’s column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. He can be reached at rbadie@ajc.com; 770-263-3875.
Landfill continues to steal Decker’s dream
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Lois Decker took Allie, Hallie and Murphy Brown for a walk Friday morning.
The pooches made it back home just fine. It was Decker who had the problem. Her throat grew irritated. And she thinks she knows why.
She and Ross, her late husband, were there long before subdivisions started popping up on Buford’s Little Mill Road. There wasn’t a landfill there either, but to the chagrin of the Deckers, one sprung up in 1985. When the trees lose their leaves, Decker can see the BFI Richland Creek Landfill from her back porch.
What’s worse is that sometimes she can smell it, too. The good thing is it’s not an everyday stench. But it sprouts up just enough to let Decker know she has a garbage dump as a neighbor.
“I can’t say I’ll smell it four times this week,” she told me. “It’s sporadic. Hear my voice? I was just out with the dogs. It’s like an allergy or something. My throat just closes up on me. Sometimes I get a headache from it. I can’t prove it, but I think it’s because of the landfill. I don’t see how you can live near one and not have some sort of problems.”
Decker isn’t going to try to prove the landfill is a detriment to her health. The foul odor, though, well that’s a different matter. With that, you might get some results. You’re only supposed to be able to smell landfill garbage when you’re on the site. Decker contacted state officials.
Inspectors with the Environmental Protection Division paid a visit to the landfill off Richland Creek Road as recently as Friday. The operators are taking steps to squash the stench. Like installing additional methane extraction wells. They looked internally, too. Management got shuffled.
“It will get better,” said Jim Sommerville, an EPD official who oversees landfills. “Odor is a difficult thing. You can’t go out and measure it. You have to go out and see if there is something the operators are doing to create the odor, and what they can do to reduce or minimize it. “
Decker feels trapped. She knows landfills have to be somewhere, but dag, she and her man were there first.
“We saw this place and thought, what a nice place to retire,” she said. “I’m on Social Security. I have a part-time job, and I’m 75. At my age, nobody would give me a mortgage, and I couldn’t afford one anyway.”
Eight years ago, she hooked up with some residents who didn’t want the landfill to expand. They lost. Buford city leaders granted the expansion.
Back then, an AJC Gwinnett News reporter interviewed Decker about her opposition to the expansion: “They stole my dream,” she said at the time.
Years later, nothing’s changed. Trucks hauling who knows what still rumble in and out of the facility. And Decker’s still there. Unfortunately. Her crib has a beautiful stone fireplace. It reminds me of my first house in Mount Dora, Fla. Paintings and needlework crafted by Decker line the walls.
She and I stepped out on her back porch. Towering trees kissed the sky.
“I hate it when the leaves are down,” she said.
I would, too.
Employers who hire them as much to blame as illegals
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Workers ran up to the SUV as soon as the driver stopped in the parking lot. She motioned to an idling U-haul truck behind her that had a man behind the wheel.
After a quick chat, two men hopped into the driver’s side of the U-haul. The two-vehicle caravan sped off.
That’s a common exchange in Gwinnett County, where laborers looking for work congregate in the parking lots of several strip malls. The Dunkin Donuts off Jimmy Carter Boulevard is one of the most popular gathering spots.
You may be in search of a sugar fix when you pull up there. The men hanging outside hope you have something else in mind. Like having your gutters cleaned. Or your lawn mowed. Or better yet, that you’re a subcontractor who’s building a few houses.
Whenever a politician or lawmaker wants to make waves about illegal immigration, he turns the spotlight on these guys, the most vulnerable — and visible — sector of the immigration debate. They, generally, are the scapegoats, and the consensus seems to be that illegal immigration will cease if we make life hell for them.
Don’t give them driver’s licenses, some say, and they’ll stay in their native country. Turn them from hospitals, opine others. Bar them from enrolling in the state’s 34 public universities and colleges. And if a child of an illegal immigrant is born here, deny that child U.S. citizenship.
Of course, immigration needs reform. How? I haven’t a clue.
But there’s another player in this whole sordid tale that doesn’t get nearly the attention it should from most politicians and advocates who say they want to stop illegal immigration: The employers.
What about the couple who picked up two men Wednesday at the doughnut shop? Or the owners of the dry-cleaning equipment company whose van was chased by laborers as it circled the parking lot?
Lawbreakers all. Just like the men who cross the border illegally to get here.
Funny thing, though.
I don’t hear about any get-tough legislation or enforcement of existing laws concerning the practice of willingly hiring illegals. It’s treated as a peripheral issue, one that’s not scrutinized. And that’s what bothersome about so much of the anti-illegal immigration rhetoric circulating in this state.
Illegal immigration is expected to be a hot issue in the 2006 General Assembly. Melvin Everson, recently elected to state House District 106 seat in south Gwinnett County, pledged in his campaign to crack down on illegal immigrants by denying them any state-funded services.
But what about the employers?
“Nobody I know blames the illegals for wanting to make more money here, but it is still illegal,” said D.A. King, of Marietta, an activist who supports measures to curb illegal immigration. “But we should all vocally put a large portion of the blame on the criminal employers that our government allows to exploit the poverty stricken illegals.”
So, if we’re serious about illegal immigration, we need to address both sides of the equation. There can’t be two sets of laws — one for illegals immigrants, and one for the employers who knowingly hire them.
• Rick Badie’s column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. He can be reached at rbadie@ajc.com; 770-263-3875.
Family’s top athlete is mourned
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Lindsey flipped through family pictures, looking for the best ones of her father. She’s putting together a montage for a memorial service Wednesday.
Standing in the kitchen, photos scattered about, she talked about her dad’s love of sports. All kinds.
Lewis L. Rogers followed the Braves. He was a member of the Touchdown Club at Parkview High. And he was a Falcons season ticket holder. When no one else would tag along to games, Rogers could always count on his Lindsey.
 |
| Rogers family |
| Lewis Rogers, shown with daughters Lindsey and Lacey, and his wife, Laurie Boylston Rogers, died while playing tennis. |
“We always ate at the Varsity,” the 18-year-old said. “Always.”
Lindsey and her mother were on a beach trip in Destin Saturday when they got the call. Lewis Rogers, 49, had suffered a heart attack.
The death of Hawks center Jason Collier grabbed headlines, but he wasn’t the only athlete to die in our metropolis over the weekend. Just like Collier’s family, friends and teammates, the Rogers family lost their star athlete, too.
Rogers died while playing tennis at Rhodes Jordan Park. He’d complained of chest pains a week or so ago, but didn’t make much of it. He thought he’d injured himself playing golf, which he played two or three times a week. Tee-time was anytime.
“He had his Wednesday golf lunch,” said his wife, Laurie. “He could be on the golf course within 20 minutes at any given time. Of course he had his own business, so he could work things that way. He loved competition and he could have a battle with somebody, then talk to them for three hours afterwards. He thought that great lessons were learned in sports.”
Rogers nurtured his competitive nature at Roswell High, where he played basketball, football and baseball. Skill on the diamond earned him a scholarship to attend Gordon Junior College. He later served as a player/coach for Mercer University, and spent time as a semi-pro with the Montreal Expos.
Physical fitness brought him and Laurie together. Years ago, he managed a fitness center in Tucker. Laurie, an avid tennis player and walker, had taught an aerobics class there. Sports, competition and staying fit was their love connection.
“It was a real commonality for us,” she said. “He used to tease me about football, and say that he loved the fact that he could talk about it and I could actually understand. That was a real commonality for us.”
Rogers said she’ll miss her soulmate of 23 years.
What she hates most of all is that the girls are now fatherless. To Lindsey and Lacey, 16, Dad was the greatest man on earth. He doted on them, and showed by example the respect a man should give a woman.
Now, all that’s left are memories. Mostly good ones. Memories of a husband, father and friend. Memories of an athlete who left this Earth way too soon.
• Rick Badie’s column appears Sundays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. He can be reached at rbadie@ajc.com; 770-263-3875.
City wants his lot; he’s not selling it
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
J.P. Harrington Jr. owns it, and he doesn’t want to sell. Not to you or me. Not to city officials, either, and they want it bad.
The Harrington Insurance Agency has been a fixture in downtown Norcross for 26 years. It’s on the main street (South Peachtree Street). He’s owned the building since the mid-1980s. It’s the old City Hall.
“This used to be Lillian’s office,” Harrington told me last week, sitting at his desk. He walked to the hallway. “The jails were up front — one for men, one for women. The City Council used to meet back there.”
The parking lot sits behind Harrington’s building, on a back street called Skin Alley. City officials want to turn it into a passive park (with parking spaces) as part of an ambitious revitalization project. Last month, they drew up a contract and had it hand-delivered to Harrington’s office. They offered to pay him about $160,000 for the site and to designate several parking spaces specifically for Harrington’s customers.
Days later, City Attorney Peter Boyce left a message on Harrington’s voice mail, saying that he’d have to proceed with condemnation if Harrington didn’t take the offer. Harrington hired a lawyer.
“This is un-American,” the white-haired Atlanta native said. Local communities can condemn and seize the property of an unwilling seller if they can show it will be used for public good. Eminent domain, they call it. Land and open space are scarce. Sometimes officials have no choice but to play hardball with unwilling sellers. Sometimes they overstep.
Last month, the Fulton County School Board tried to force a private school to sell a 19-acre site it owns in Sandy Springs. Fulton officials threatened eminent domain, then backed down after saying they were unaware the school had plans for the property.
Norcross officials say condemnation is a last resort. “We’re not a condemnation-happy city,” said Johnny Lawler, the community development coordinator. He said the city last invoked eminent domain in the late 1970s when it had to acquire right of way for sewer lines.
A passive park would be a nice addition to a project that someday will include the construction of a plaza and a cultural venue. It would benefit the people and no doubt be pretty. But it’s not a necessity. Downtown Norcross already has two parks.
Threats don’t work. City officials shouldn’t make an enemy out of Harrington. He shouldn’t paint them as the bad guys, either.
Maybe the two parties can reach an accord before things turn truly ugly. They should do what hasn’t taken place to date: Sit down. Face to face. And negotiate. It’s the neighborly thing to do. It’s doubtful everyone would walk away 100 percent pleased, but it would be better than letting a jury decide. There, you never know what the outcome will be.
I’m blogging beginning Sunday
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Now, you can comment on my columns 24 hours a day.
This Sunday, the AJC Gwinnett News begins the Badie blog. You can post comments, ask questions, or respond to comments left by other readers. Let’s talk.
Maybe Sunday’s column will get you to blogging. It deals with the issue of eminent domain, and the threat of it being used against a downtown Norcross business owner.
About Rick Badie
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Rick Badie’s a Georgia Boy who grew up in Millen — a one (maybe three) stoplight town in the Real South. He’s been a reporter since 1986, the year he graduated with a bachelor’s degree in journalism from the University of Georgia. He’s been a staff writer for The Gainesville (Ga.) Times, and Orlando Sentinel, and has had articles published in USA Today and the Chicago Tribune. He joined the AJC staff as an education reporter in 1997, and was named the Gwinnett columnist in 2004. His work has won several awards, but who cares? What counts is what he’s doing right now, and that’s writing about Gwinnett. He and his wife, Joann, have two kids — Miles, and Olivia.
Permalink | |
