Music Out, Bells In

It wasn't exactly Lincoln vs. Douglas but Stafford's great ice cream debate sure attracted regional, even national, attention.         On Tuesday morning, March 3, no less a publication than the esteemed New York Times ran a short article about the township's proposal to squelch the amplified music used by some mobile ice cream dealers to hawk their treats. Soon afterward, Jeffery Cabaniss of Stafford, the dealer most in the middle of the controversy, found a crew from New York's Channel 7 Action News on his doorstep. Meanwhile, he was being sought by a nationally syndicated talk how host.         And a great - or at least long - debate it was. For almost two hours, the scene at Stafford's Tuesday evening meeting resembled a combination of the Roman Senate and the Circus Maximus. Councilwoman Jeanne DiPaola pondered questions like the issue of governmental intrusion into people's lives, and resident Dolores Vertucci referenced 19th-century philosopher and economist John Stuart Mill. At another point, 8-year-old B.J. Pallone read from a prepared statement and asked the council: "When you guys were kids, didn't you like the music, Too?"         Pallone wasn't done.         "When I get big, I'm going to remember how it was when I was a kid."         But a slightly older township resident, Ed Sidell, did remember his youth, when he used to pedal a tricycle and ring a bell selling Good Humor treats. A bell, said Sidell, is more than enough of a customer draw. "I used to make $75, $100 a week, and in those days, that was real big money. "For a few minutes the debate deteriorated when Cabaniss and Councilman John Spodofora engaged in a verbal gladiatorial battle. Spodofora accused Cabaniss of misrepresenting his comments; Cabaniss was angry that Spodofora hadn't responded to a letter.         Mayor Carl W. Block gaveled the meeting back to order and sought a compromise. He suggested an alternative to an outright ban of music. How about, he suggested, a rule which would restrict the dealers from playing their music at less than 65 decibels, as measured from 10 feet away from their trucks?         But in the end, the debate, which started in early January when the first version of the ordinance was introduced, had played out too long. If the council was to adopt Block's suggestion, another round of public hearings would have to be held. Most of the council members suddenly looked as if they had tasted something terribly sour when the possibility of even more hearings was touched upon.         Much of the crowd, too, was getting tired and edgy. "Don't beat around the bushes," mumbled an anti-music attendee. "Vote!" snarled another.         So they did. Councilman Fred Seeber opposed the total ban on music, saying the decibel meters cost a mere $80 to $100, making enforcement of the alternate noise-level ordinance financially feasible.         Councilwoman Virginia Alman voted for the ban, saying she doubted the ban would drive Cabaniss out of business as he contended.         DiPaola voted against the ban. John Spodofora and Sal Baglio sided with Alman. It was 3-2, for the ban, and with councilwoman Marie Bogdanski absent because of cataract surgery scheduled for the next day, it all came down on the shoulders of Mayor Block. If he voted no, there would be a deadlock and the ordinance would be defeated.         He hesitated, hesitated, and finally pulled the trigger. "Yes," he said making the final vote 4-2 and thereby banning amplified music on any ice cream truck operated in Stafford. Then he qualified his vote, saying that if somebody had introduced the 65-decibel restriction, he would have voted for that.         But the time for qualifications was over; the great compromise hadn't been reached. The ice cream trucks will be muted and additional comments were moot.

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