BLAISDELL EFFECT: Where would Bradford be without the Zippo
lighter and founder George G. Blaisdell? We shudder to think.

Today and tomorrow, Bradford will be in the throes of the 2006
Zippo and Case International Swap Meet.

And we can’t let the opportunity pass without paying tribute
what has been called the “Blaisdell Effect,” an allusion to the
generosity of the Zippo founder and his family.

We steal much of the information for RTS today and tomorrow from
the cover story of the spring/summer edition of Portraits magazine,
a publication of the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford.

In “Illuminating,” Pitt associate professor Tim Ziaukas re-tells
the story of Zippo with a focus on the legacy of Blaisdell on
Pitt-Bradford and the Bradford community as a whole.

In it, Ziaukas quotes Jim Guelfi, Pitt-Bradford advisory board
member, who explains that “the Blaisdell Effect” refers to the
philanthropic efforts of Zippo Manufacturing Co.; the Blaisdell
Foundation, established by Blaisdell in 1950; and the individual
members of the Blaisdell family, particularly the daughters of
George Blaisdell, Sarah B. Dorn and Harriett B. Wick, as well as
Sarah Dorn’s son, George Duke, vice president and treasurer of the
company his grandfather founded.

“I’m not even talking about all the events that have been
written and now just exist in our memories,” Guelfi said. “Let’s
limit it to the physical evidence that remains … Every person who
got a gas bill paid. Every family who had a turkey delivered. Every
institution that received grant money: our schools, our hospital.
Every street corner restored, park developed, tree planted.”

To understand the genesis of the Zippo legacy, we need to look
at the roots of Mr. Blaisdell and his now-famous company.

Born in Bradford on June 5, 1895, Blaisdell dropped out of
school and was put to work as an hourly employee (10 cents an hour,
59 hours a week) in the family business, the Blaisdell Machinery
Co.

Blaisdell eventually sold the machinery company and sunk the
proceeds into the oil industry – literally. Then came the
Depression.

“In Bradford, where years of oil-boom business once seemed
invulnerable, the effects of the Depression were deeply felt.
People collected pennies for the needy and, breaking a long taboo,
Sunday evening movies were shown for the first time, with all the
proceeds going to those hard hit by the Depression,” according to
the article.