DANGERS OF DRUGS, UP CLOSE

Woman's Christian Temperance Union's Chapter In Canton Carries Abstinence
Message Into Schools

CANTON - More than a century ago, the Victorian ladies of the Woman's
Christian Temperance Union fought a war against alcohol with prayer and,
occasionally, Carry Nation's hatchet.

Members of the WCTU Canton First Chapter launched their initial crusade
around the same time -- in 1874 -- on their knees in prayer, in full
bustles and petticoats, in front of the city's busiest saloon. Soon after,
the WCTU won one of the first city ordinances to ban the sale of alcohol on
Sundays and election days.

The battles continue to this day in Stark County and have expanded to
include drug, tobacco and gambling abuse.

Canton President Delores Simonella's army of teetotalers is about 30
members strong. The group still crusades, but more often the field of
engagement is a classroom instead of a barroom.

At seminars in local elementary schools, Simonella dons oversized glasses
and shows third-graders autopsy photos of drug-ravaged organs.

Students seem unfazed at the sight of a yellow, liquid abscess deep in the
tissue of gray brain matter on a poster held up by a classmate.

"Ewwwwwwwww," boys and girls giggle in chorus.

"This is what they don't show you on commercials," Simonella tells the rapt
but fidgety group.

"Some people think beer looks good. Some people even think it tastes good,"
she said with a grimace. "We're learning that just because something looks
good and is in a pretty package, that doesn't mean it's good for us, right?"

Later, Zachary Daiquiri, Dr. Crisis, Officer Catchem and a cast of brightly
colored body parts make a lighter case for abstinence in a puppet show. The
performance ends with a jingle.

A purple heart, brown liver, pink stomach and yellow brain sing the
refrain: Being straight is OK.

"At first I really wondered if they wouldn't be overwhelmed, but they're
already exposed to so much," Simonella said. "I've had kids come up to me
at day-care centers and show me exactly how to pick up a joint and hold in
the smoke."

Simonella tailors her shows to the age of the audience. She regularly
speaks to children, teen-agers and even senior citizens.

"No matter how old you are, you can fall," she cautioned. "But anyone can
be delivered."

Honorary WCTU member Louis Simonella accompanies his wife to most of the
events. He's usually the voice of the puppet show characters.

"It always amazes me when she talks how everyone listens.... I believe she
has a gift from God," he said.

Their own religious epiphany sparked the couple's work.

Thirty years ago, Louis Simonella was shot in the head at close range in a
hunting accident. His wife was told it was unlikely he would survive.

"They gave me up twice for dead, but I walked in the valley of the shadow
of death and I feared no evil," he said.

Louis Simonella suffered through paralysis and seizures, but has recovered.
Since then, the couple's desire to repay God has taken them through
hundreds of WCTU events and self-funded religious mission trips to Russia
and China. The retirees have slept in foreign airports and bordellos.
They've fasted for faith and for lack of funds.

"My parents raised us in the church, but it became a much more personal
thing for them when Dad got hurt," said the Rev. Michael Simonella, a
pastor in Evanston, Ill. "I don't worry about them. Faith becomes
practical: You do what you can and trust Jesus to do the rest.

"Then, you just gotta go with the flow."

Fate Steps In

Delores Simonella attended her first WCTU meeting about 10 years after her
husband was shot. She laughingly called her introduction to the group
"involuntary volunteerism."

It was faith and fate again.

Michael Simonella needed a favor for his college paper. He met a woman who
wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I called the WCTU headquarters in Evanston, and they told me I first
needed to go through the local chapter," Michael Simonella recalled.
"Mildred Hall was the Canton chapter president. She wouldn't let me out of
her house until I promised to ask my mother" to attend a meeting.

"My mom is the last person you'd ever expect would do this," Michael
Simonella said. "I thought she would go to a meeting, have some tea and
that would be it.

"She never wanted to be out front," he added. " Next thing I knew, she had
recruited the whole family as puppeteers."

The woman whom teen-agers in her seminars often affectionately call "the
church lady" hasn't limited her recruiting to family members.

Vicki Wilson joined the WCTU nine years ago. She considers Simonella a mentor.

"Delores gets to people no one else could get to. It's a stark stance, but
there are more kids out there doing (abstinence) than you would think,"
Wilson said. "You don't hear from them. There's a group, but they don't
make themselves known because it's not popular.

"You have to teach by example, which is what both Delores and her husband
have done, and their sons have turned out great," Wilson said. "At this
point in their lives you would think they would take it easy. Honestly, I
think I would, but they've taken it up a notch."

Influence Felt

In its peak years through 1918, the WCTU worked to attain pensions for
Civil War nurses, opened homes for war veterans and orphans, and was active
in the suffrage movement.

The WCTU's department of Scientific Temperance Instruction lobbied heavily
and won a law that mandated U.S.public schools to teach the effects of
alcohol. After the law passed, the union approved every textbook.

The WCTU's influence waned with the passage of the Volstead Act -- the law
that began Prohibition -- in 1919.

Today, there are 33 WCTU chapters in Ohio. Some of the unions pay dues but
their members are too old to participate actively.

"We're a dying-out crowd, but we still get around," state Vice President
Nina Donahue said.

She sees a lot of work ahead for her group.

"The U.S. is only now seeing what has happened after years of abuse of
alcohol, drugs and tobacco," Donahue said. "We'll send out 1,200 pamphlets
to students this week. It's a lot of work."

The Simonellas continue their grass-roots work without the high profile of
the past.

"We don't push the name," Delores Simonella said. "I tell (the
schoolchildren) they're important and that they can achieve. That's what
I'd rather instill in them."