As Derry's foundering ship of state lurches even closer to the drain, it appears that the powers that be have finally pulled the proverbial plug on Mr. John Anderson, now a notorious lamster, and once the upright town administrator, who formerly, if we are to understand the statements he made to the NH State Troopers with some credulity, ran a nudist home or house or some such palaver.
Ayuh, the town council, in this year whatever of the longest recession anyone can remember, in a nation horribly beset by the dreadfully redolent emanations arising from Obamacare, have finally agreed to stop paying Mr. John Anderson his exorbitant salary for hiding from the state police while giving the long suffering citizens a bit of a break. Now whether or not his payments in lieu of no work will continue whence he reappears and surrenders to the authorities remain unclear because the council met on the evening of 20 August in a "secret" plenary session to discuss personnel matters, namely his. Perhaps Mr. Neil W. Wetherbee, Anderson's chief cheerleader and the councilor who threw caution to wind and voted for the town to take over his own private road, which improved his property values, with nary a thought given to conflict of interest, can agree to inform us on John's own "secret" schedule.
Somewhere out there in the increasingly cool wild blue, in the woods, in an obliging attorney's office, perhaps shopping at JC Penny's in Manchester, or possibly in Cabo San Luca, Mexico, Mr. Anderson, as far as can be ascertained, remains at large, so far dodging the arrest warrant issued for him in the Rockingham County Court on 16 August of this year. This has been a year increasingly filled with bad public relations for the town, which always seems to be pulling it's perceived dirty laundry back from the columnists in far off Portland, OR, from the papers in South Carolina, the news hounds at Fox 25 in Boston, and TV and radio in Dallas, TX, in a nick of time with the fateful good news that DPW thief has finally been brought to heel just like the hot dog man before him.
How long will Mr. Anderson's wacky karma plague the town, handicap it's PR, further erode Derry's ability to attract really big business, and reduce the chances for that IBM home office kind of enormous business caper which every business development guy given tons and tons of dough by Derry fails to bring in? You remember the one which is always just around the corner and he can bag that elephant with just a few more lunches at The Yard, a bit more liquor money, and if he can bring in John P. "Jack" Dowd and his old DEDC pals as the closers they'll sign? These mega-deals, with everybody getting well, are always lurking just out of reach in Derry. No, only time will tell. But these ongoing naughty bits of negative PR plague Derry on a regular schedule, like the curses of God plagued the Pharaohs and seem to only set the old dusty place back a step or two for every halting step forward.
Some sort of a weird immense level of stress seems to have built up in John Anderson's life before an unknown final "stressor" set him off on that fateful Friday when everything went to hell at his home and this whole sorry saga began to unfold. Stressors, according to Robert Ressler, a former criminal profiler for the FBI and a leading authority on societal vices, are events which trigger an individual into a specific series of unwarranted behaviors and could possibly be: marital turmoil, conflicts with women, parental conflict, severe financial stress, conflicts with other males, the birth of a child, a serious physical injury and its aftermath, legal troubles, and stress from the death of someone close, either sudden or expected.
But in the long run it doesn't matter much. The council at long last has apparently pulled the plug and the curtain on another sad human saga that has yet to play out. And who can say where this thorny trail will end.