Veteran borough worker and ‘kind soul’ became a downtown fixture
By: Matt Chiappardi
HIGHTSTOWN When the borough was hit with a heavy rainstorm in April, Mayor Bob Patten remembers seeing Dennis Lidke directing traffic, standing in 6 inches of water with a smile on his face.
It was 1 a.m., and Mr. Patten recalls that Mr. Lidke was "called to duty to help, like always."
For nearly 30 years, Mr. Lidke was as much a part of the borough as the downtown business district in which he was often seen. Almost everyone who worked there either knew him or knew who he was.
Mr. Lidke spent 27 years working for the borough’s Public Works Department and volunteering for the Fire Department. And in that time, he became a fixture on the downtown streets, whether he was directing traffic, cleaning the sidewalk, plowing the snow, checking the street lamps or simply getting from place to place on his signature wheel horse mowing tractor.
"He was one in a million," said Public Works Superintendent Larry Blake, adding, "one of the best employees I’ve ever had."
Fire Department Chief John Archer agreed.
"He was a kind soul, and whatever you’d ask him to do, he’d do his best," he added with a cracking voice belying his normally gruff exterior.
Mr. Lidke died July 14 of heart failure after battling a kidney condition for which he received dialysis treatment three times a week, said Mr. Blake. He is survived by his mother, a sister and two brothers.
His death came one day shy of his 47th birthday, said Public Works secretary Donna Syx, and four days after the Public Works Department threw him a luncheon to celebrate his retirement.
Councilman Larry Quattrone, who went to school with Mr. Lidke’s mother, said Mr. Lidke "actually asked forgiveness for retiring."
"He felt so bad that he was letting the borough down," he added.
Fire Chief Archer recalls how for three decades Mr. Lidke would just come into the firehouse to clean the trucks or ready the equipment, without being asked. The fire company made him an associate member in 1981, he said. By 2003, the company promoted him to fire police officer, with the special duty of directing traffic during emergencies.
Although, never certified to enter burning buildings, his comrades at the firehouse gave him the full traditional firefighters’ funeral on July 27, complete with a uniformed procession down Main Street.
"We all had tears," Mr. Archer said.
Retiring was difficult for Mr. Lidke, said Mr. Blake. It took some convincing from both his co-workers and family for him to relax and enjoy his disability benefits after a long struggle with his condition, said borough officials.
According to Mr. Blake, Mr. Lidke never missed a day’s work.
"He used to be a ball of fire," he said, while describing how the past few months saw Mr. Lidke become quieter and lose weight. Still, Mr. Blake said, "Dennis was always in ship shape."
There was seemingly nothing Mr. Lidke wanted to do more than serve his borough in any way he could. Borough Council President Walter Sikorski said "Public Works was a good place for him. It gave him a sense of being a contributor."
Even as a boy, Mr. Lidke would spend hours hanging around the police station watching the daily machinations of police work and playing pranks on the officers.
Former Police Chief Kevin Hopkins remembers that around the age of 10, Mr. Lidke would sneak into the station through the attached garage in the hopes he could surprise the officers.
"We’d tell him we had iron-clad security, but then leave the door unlocked," said Mr. Hopkins.
"Then we’d make a big deal about it, and say things like ‘how’d you get in here?’ and he’d get a kick out of that," he added.
Later, after Mr. Lidke attended Hightstown High, Mr. Blake would see him wandering through town. Rather than see him get into any mischief, Mr. Blake said, he hired Mr. Lidke to ride on the backs of the borough’s garbage trucks.
Mr. Lidke took it from there. Without much prompting, said Mr. Blake, he would start cleaning the streets, and then would wander around town taking inventory of which street lamps had burned out.
Fire Chief Archer also took notice of Mr. Lidke’s initiative.
"Most people leave when they’re on vacation," he said, "but Dennis would stay in Hightstown and keep working."
Several at the Public Works Department recounted how Mr. Lidke would even spend his weekends working. And wintertime seemed to be when he hit his stride.
"At the first flake, Dennis was ready to plow the snow," said Mr. Blake. "Christmas was his favorite time of year."
He would begin preparing the Christmas lights in October, and work well after quitting time to make sure each one would shine for the holidays, he said.
"The only thing Dennis didn’t want to do is work the jackhammer," said Mr. Blake.
"That’s OK, he did so many other things, I’d just have him direct traffic which he liked better anyway," he added.
His ubiquity on the borough streets did not go unnoticed by local businesspeople. From the pharmacy down to the dry cleaners, folks this week all said they knew him if not by name, then by description.
"He was one of the fixtures that you’d expect to see somewhere," said Harry Sackowitz, former owner and now manager of The Shoe Buckle.
"What a great kid," he added.
Tammy, a waitress at Mannino’s 4 Pizza & Restaurant, remembered Mr. Lidke as a "nice, kind, sweet guy and a hard worker."
"He’d always be helping his mother with her laundry, or coming (into the pizzeria) to pick up food for his mom."
Mike Vanderbeck, who owns the Slow Down Café, called Mr. Lidke, "the most pleasant and diligent worked I’ve ever met."
"I’d give him a hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day, and he’d act like it was Christmas, he was so happy," he added.
Mayor Patten, who was also Mr. Lidke’s physical education teacher in high school, remembered Mr. Lidke as an unassuming and polite student.
"We should all look at our own personalities to be more like Dennis," he said.
Councilman Quattrone summarized Mr. Lidke’s humble legacy in two short sentences.
"He IS townspeople," he said.
"That’s what little towns are all about."
And he added a sentiment that is sure to be shared by many of the people whose lives Mr. Lidke touched:
"We will miss him dearly."
Vic Monaco contributed to this story.

