Dick Hakes

Taking Liberties

Marv Stastny, a spry 81-year-old with an easy smile and friendly demeanor, drives me around downtown Solon in his utility golf cart with a flag whip in front and slow-moving vehicle sign in back.

The cart bed behind us is filled with big trash cans. His heavy-duty “grabber” is within easy reach. There’s bug spray in the cup holders.

I soon learn no wind-blown Walmart bag nor soggy, discarded Dixie cup is safe on the street whenever Stastny gets the urge to cruise Solon for trash or debris.

“I’ve worn out three grabbers over the years,” he tells me with a grin. He skillfully snags a stick from the lawn near the park bandstand downtown and whips it into a barrel.

For the past 15 years or so, Stastny has quietly served as a one-man volunteer sanitation department for Solon, taking special pride in this community he’s called home since moving here with his wife, Bernita, in 1962. They’ll celebrate 60 years together next year.

“When I retired,” he said, “I didn’t want to stay home and watch TV.”

The local Beef Days parade was his original catalyst.

“It’s one of the biggest candy-throwing parades in Eastern Iowa,” he said. “The city does a good job cleaning, but they can only do so much. I didn’t want kids to be picking up their candy on dirty streets.”

So every year prior to Beef Days, Stastny sweeps the three main business blocks of downtown – the entire street and sidewalks -- with a shop broom, using a corn scoop as a dust pan. He loads the dirt and debris into his golf cart for removal.

It takes him a few days to complete the job.

“Monday is a good day because it’s pretty quiet downtown,” he says. “You can time it so that if a car is parked, you sweep that spot later when it’s moved.”

He concentrates on Main Street, then tries to clean the “high spots” along the parade route which tend to collect more litter. If a careless homeowner has thrown mowed grass into the street at curbside, he has a rake along to scoop that up as well. He gives the downtown park with the bandshell special attention as its “unofficial caretaker”.

Stastny says he usually does a major cleanup twice a summer downtown, and patrols at other times when he feels the urge.

But last week he admitted his age is beginning to slow him down. He put an ad on Facebook and hired “a kid from Marion” at $13 an hour to ride with him and lend a hand. He’ll pay the wages from his own pocket.

As you might guess, Solon City Administrator Cami Rasmussen sings Stastny’s praises loud and strong.

“Marv is just pretty amazing,” she told me. “He sweeps, he picks up trash, he pulls weeds. I joke with people that he’s our best unpaid city employee.”

“He’s been doing this for as long as I remember,” she continued. “And he does this all without expecting any recognition. He does it simply because he loves this community.”

Note that Stasny’s community service record extends far beyond litter patrol.

Even in the midst of his working career – 33 years with a large Cedar Rapids implement dealership and another 17 in Solon as foreman of a foundry equipment company – he was a stalwart Solon supporter.

A chrome axe hangs on the wall in his basement, commemorating his 50 years of service to the Solon Fire Department, many of those as assistant chief.

He’s worked for the local Optimist Club here for more than three decades and is its current president for the third time around. Among other tasks, he’s the guy who installs flag receptacles in local yards as part of the club’s Avenue of Flags fundraiser.

He’s also served in many other capacities for the Beef Days Committee over the years and is currently in charge of the big steak fry and parade security. He’s proud of this group, which he says now clears $50,000 or so each year from the celebration to distribute to other worthy causes around the town.

No doubt locals will see him trolling for trash in his dusty green golf cart for some time to come. He’s in good shape, he says, and has longevity genes in his family.

As we head back to his garage in the golf cart, Marv stops in an alley next to an overgrown cocklebur bush at the base of a utility pole.

“Oh, that’s got to come out,” he states.

He will return later with a spade, because “if you don’t dig them out, they’ll come back.”

Nobody may ever notice that the alley might be one degree cleaner.

But he will.