Things People Say

I recently had the following conversation with a client, and he graciously gave me permission to share it.

  "How long were you two together?"
  "Eleven years."
  "How long has he physically abused you?"
  "Eight years."
  "Why on earth do you tolerate that kind of behavior?"
  "Well, he's a really nice guy...when he's not doing heroin."

Monday morning at ten, I'll be trying to get him a five year Domestic Violence Protection Order.

Billy Graham’s Good Points

OK, I will say right up front that  there are a LOT of things I do not like about Billy Graham. That however, is a topic for a different day. I think it is a good idea to recognize some good even in people you don't admire.

1. From the earliest days of his ministry, Billy Graham had *independent* accountants keeping track of the money- so Rev. Graham has avoided any financial scandal for over a half century. Many would do well to follow his example.
2. Immediately after the Supreme Court's Brown v. Board of Education decision in 1954, Graham ordered that seating at all his public appearances be integrated. (That was *not* a universally popular position to take at the time)
3. Once, when Martin Luther King was arrested in the early 60s, Graham paid King's bail.

Educating Silly-Vilians

One of my dearest friends is retired from the U.S.  After 25 years of serving as an enlisted woman in the U.S. Navy – not the usual career path for a graduate of Yale University - she was a “sparky” (that’s a radioman for you civilian types) and since Sue is quite vertically challenged, she is proud to tell you she is a “short wave radio operator.”  One of her favorite expressions is to refer to people who have never been in the military as “silly-vilians.” Occasionally when I would hear some life-long civilian’s misconceptions about the military, I’m reminded of Sue’s expression.

When I was in Alaska, I was once having lunch with co-workers and a woman whose politics are very far left of mine.  She made a comment that someone she knew was in Iraq. Continuing she generalized that they were probably all happy about that because that would give them the chance to use all the drugs that they wanted.  I resisted my initial inclination to break something heavy over her head.  Instead I very firmly but politely told her she was off by 180 degrees.  I said that the military is just about the only place in America where you are in very serious trouble if you possess or use drugs.  In the immediate aftermath of Vietnam, drug use was a horrendous problem in all of the services.  In the late 1970s, there was a horrible accident on an aircraft carrier where more than 10 sailors were killed and half of them had cannabis in their systems.  When I was going through language school in the early 80s, we had people going to Captain’s Mass losing a stripe, half a month’s pay for two months and being restricted to base and getting extra duty for two months.  By the time I finished my enlistment in 1984, there had been dramatic improvement and by the time I was teaching on board U.S. Navy ships in the late 80s and early 90s, the Navy’s program of “operation golden flow” for all hands had made drug use very rare in deed. On the ships I taught, the Navy’s policy was very simple.  Test positive for drugs and you have a one-way ticket back to the civilian world with a less than honorable discharge. I remember hearing officer’s express dismay after two members of a 400 man crew tested positive for pot.  They were chagrined that they even had one pothead on board.

This is a matter where some liberals (if the shoe fits you can jolly well wear it) are acutely contradictory.  They will make jokes about drug use in the service and then express horror when the Services come down really hard on drug abusers.  Many years ago I saw an editorial in the New York Times op-ed section boo hooing about a young officer who had been caught with drugs and had received a general court martial, a dishonorable discharge, and a couple years of brig time.  The writer actually had the chutzpah to state that the defendant had not expected that his off-duty activities could have official repercussions; reading that article made me yearn for the days of the cat of nine tails. I suppose that that New York Times writer would have any objection to a service-man being stoned at 7:55 am on a Sunday morning, after all what’s the worst that could happen.

I was reminded of that issue as I read the memoires of former defense secretary Robert Gates first days at the Pentagon.  Once when he took a break from doing paperwork to answer nature’s call, he heard a knock on the bathroom door.  It was a sergeant with a plastic vile in his hand.  Yes, even the Secretary of Defense had to pass operation golden flow.

John Rowlands

John Rowlands was a young man when the American Civil War broke out and he was drafted into the Confederate Army.  He found military life not to his liking, so he deserted.  He managed to make it to Union lines where he was promptly drafted into the Union army. He succeeded in finagling a medical discharge, but soon found he was not able to find a job to support himself, so he enlisted in the United States Navy.  After his discharge, he found work with a business man whose last name was Stanley and Mr. Rowlands changed his name.  After such an unpromising start, he managed to win immortality as a journalist under the byline, Henry Stanley in the New York Times which published letters from his trip to Africa.  It was during this trip he was able to locate a missionary who’d been missing for years; approaching him with the immortal question, “Dr. Livingston I presume?”

A Troublesome 12-Year-Old

When I was teaching 11th grade at Simon Sanchez high school at Hagatna, Guam, I dealt with some 17- year-olds who made me *very* grateful for the fact that I'm over six feet tall with a pretty big frame. Deterrence can be priceless.

I recently read about a *very* scary 12 year old, who was attending a school, well over a century ago, in a country, far, far away. His homeland had recently become a part of a much larger country, and this kid's teachers were very strict about their students learning the language of the empire and not their native tongue. This irked young Josef *bigtime*. So, one day, he lured the teacher into an empty classroom, and (backed up by a couple of 18-year-old friends) told the teacher that if he didn't change his ways, Josef and his buddies were going to kill him. (That is far worse than anything I ever heard at either SSHS- or UAHS.)

The Secret of the SS Minnow

Anyone around my age will remember the SS Minnow as the name of the ship of the crew and passengers were on for a three hour tour (a three hour tour) when the weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed...etc., etc.

Most people would assume that the wrecked ship was named after a very small fish. WRONG! I recently learned that the ship's name was a jab at the then head of the Federal Communications Commission, Newton Norman Minow- remembered today for his "vast wasteland" speech. Mr. Minow is still with us aged 88. No word on his opinion of "Gilligan's Island."

Astronomy … and pizza?

There is considerable debate as to whether Pluto qualifies as a planet. I rather hope so. There is a great way to remember the names of the planets: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto. My Very Excellent Mother Just Sent Us Nine Pizzas.

Maury

I like to think that at this point in my life, it takes *quite* a lot to really shock me. Today, I represented a young woman in court who wanted to get a Protection Order against the father of her child. When I asked her if they'd established paternity, she replied, "Yes. We went on 'Maury'". I made no comment.

Bolt from the Blue

Life sometime hits you with a bolt from the blue. I was in court about an hour ago, wondering if yet another client was going to quit on me (which she did) when I got a call on my cell phone from my brother, Boyd, in Colorado. I thought, "What the heck is this about?" (I do not have much contact with Boyd- no further comment here) He informed me that he'd received a call from our brother, Bruce, that Bruce's eldest son had just taken his own life. I never had much contact with Bruce or with my nephew, so I have *no* idea what brought this on. I certainly feel sorry for my sister-in-law, who is a very fine lady. I phoned my father for my usual daily check-in call, and of course, made no mention of what had happened. Who would imagine that a 94 year old man who outlive his college age grandson? It is a very sad situation.

Another Columbus Classic

If you live in Columbus, Ohio, and win the lottery, moving from Parson's Avenue to Upper Arlington makes a whole lot of sense. Ironically enough, Tremont Road curves through UA and at a point is about 30 yards from the house I grew up in. Richard Celeste was Governor of Ohio a few decades back, and if somebody would've purchase "Brushstrokes in Flight" (and taken it several thousand miles from Columbus), Mayor Buck Rinehart would've been a very happy man.

A Columbus Classic

The Franklin County offices are located about 100 yards from the Franklin County courthouse.

A Ken Osmond Comeback?

No, I am *not* referring to an unknown member of the famous singing family from Utah. Rather, I am referring to Theodore Cleaver's nemesis on "Leave It to Beaver"- a total suck-up around parents and a total troublemaker amongst his peers. In real life, after 6 years of playing America's favorite juvenile sociopath, Ken Osmond found himself type-cast and unemployable as an actor. So, at the age of 26, he joined the Los Angeles Police Department.

One of the highlights of his days in blue was the time that a rumor circulated that Osmond had adopted the name John Holmes and was doing porn. When a theatre owner put "Ken Osmond” in "Behind the Green Door" on his marquee, Osmond told the proprietor that if he didn't take down that sign, he would be hearing from Osmond's lawyer very soon.

Osmond wore a badge for 18 years until 1988, when a suspect shot 3 times- Osmond's Kevlar vest stopped two bullets, the 3rd glanced off his belt buckle. In any event, Osmond got to retire on a partial disability pension.

Am I the only person who thinks it is a low down dirty rotten shame that Ken Osmond does not have his own TV show: "Eddie Haskell, LAPD", a detective specializing in tracking down rogue child stars? (Danny Bonaduce could play his nemesis).

1,656?

I recently read of a terrorist bomb making teacher who managed to detonate one of his creations killing himself and 22 of his pupils.  Poetic justice is a wonderful, wonderful thing.  (In the words of Oscar Wilde: “It takes a heart of stone not to laugh.”) I can only wonder where they are going to come up with 1,656 virgins.

Meeting Santa

There is a lawyer I see occasionally at the court house whose hair is quite white and his full beard matches.  I recently kidded him that he must be one of the few people in Columbus who enjoys January because kids are no longer coming up to him and telling him what they want for Christmas.  I was quite surprised when he handed me his business card.  In mid- to late December he actually has a part-time business making appearances as Santa.

O’Toole, Bruce and Wambaugh

I once saw the author/one-time LAPD detective, Joseph Wambaugh, give an interview in which he stated that his police career would have been a great deal different had he worn a badge in any other American city besides Los Angeles.  He told a story about, while a rookie cop in the early sixties, he and his partner having busted two men smoking marijuana in the car. (A pot bust was a much bigger deal back then than it is now.)  One of the men, who spoke with a considerable Irish accent, tearfully begged them not to ruin his career by taking him in.  When Wambaugh’s Sergeant arrived on the scene, he listened to what the young actor had said and tossed the marijuana down the sewer drain.  That young Irish actor, Wambaugh says, was none other than Peter O’Toole who went on to have quite a career.  His companion in the car that night was the comedian, Lenny Bruce.  Wambaugh says that maybe it was a coincidence, but after that night, he never again heard Bruce refer to police officers as pigs.

Rule of Thumb

Mark Twain said it very well, “It ain’t ignorance that’s dangerous; it’s people knowing things that just aren’t so.”  Over the years I have heard some feminist extremists (attention feminists: if the shoe fits, wear it) explain the “rule of thumb” to be old English common law that a man could beat his wife as long as he didn’t use a stick thicker than is thumb.  When I did my second year of law school in London, I did what I could to get to the bottom of that story.  After consulting with several medieval scholars, I am now prepared to announce that it is particularly nefarious urban legend. Parliament never authorized such a bill nor did the church ever sanction such action. However, that’s a story that some people want to believe to be true.

Churchill and Freud

Winston Churchill, II (the Prime Minister’s grandson) had a political career of his own and served several terms in Parliament. Clement Freud (Sigmund Freud’s grandson) also served several terms in Parliament.  Once both men went on a fact-finding junket to the People’s Republic of China and Mr. Freud discovered that Mr. Churchill had been assigned a much more spacious hotel suite than he had. When he protested to his Chinese hosts, he was informed that Mr. Churchill’s grandfather had been a very influential man.  When Freud replied that his grandfather replied that his grandfather had also been a very influential man, his hosts replied, "Yes, but not as influential as Mr. Churchill's." Mr. Freud shook his head and said, “This is the first time in my entire life that I have ever been out-grandfathered.”

One Adam 12 & Dirty Harry

It would be very difficult to imagine a more striking contrast in images of American law enforcement than Officer Malloy of “One Adam 12” and Clint Eastwood’s character of Dirty Harry Callahan.  Officer Malloy was LAPD’s version of Dudley Do Right.  Dirty Harry, on the other hand – well, consider the original ad for the first Dirty Harry film featured the line “Two stone cold killers. Harry’s the one with the Badge.”  

I recently learned that Martin Milner, officer Malloy’s real life alter ego, started acting when he was in the army at Fort Ord, California and he achieved considerable success in Route 66, The Swiss Family Robinson and a number of other films until finding his role in the Jack Web production.  Ironically enough, while he was still stationed at Fort Ord, Martin Milner got to be friends with a very tall, athletic guy named Clint Eastwood; who he encouraged to pursue an acting career and the rest is history.  No word whether Milner and Eastwood ever shared a squad car.

Erin Nicole’s Good Influence

Once many years ago back when Bush 41 was president I finished a transpacific voyage when the ship I’d been teaching on, the U.S.S. Cape Cod, pulled into San Diego and I had the chance to visit with some of my favorite people in the whole world: Mark and Barbara and their beyond adorable three children.  One of the high points of that trip was when Mark did the “take-the-family-to-work” thing.  He took me and the rest of his family on a tour of Marine Recruit Training Depot San Diego where he was serving as a Chief Drill Instructor. When we were all bundled up into the van, I heard a six-year old voice sounding from the far back seat, “Your seat belt’s not fastened, Daddy.”  After a pause, I heard that voice a whole lot more stridently, “Your seat belt’s not fastened, Daddy!”  I thought, “That has got to be one of the bravest and bossiest six-year olds I have ever heard in my entire life.”

I hope Erin Nicole will be pleased to know that, more than 20 years later, every time I drive downtown on the Columbus freeway I can hear her six-year old voice in my ear making the same observation.  Even after all this time, Erin Nicole is a good influence on me.

Zsa Zsa Gabor

Zsa Zsa Gabor is known today as a punch line — one of Hollywood’s few celebrities who does not do a good impersonation of herself.” A common gag amongst speakers about to give a lecture on a mundane topic is to say, “I feel a lot like Zsa Zsa Gabor’s 9^th husband:  I know what to do, but I’m not sure if I can make it interesting.” The thing that strikes me about Zsa Zsa Gabor is that when she was born in Budapest, back in 1917, she was the subject of the Austro-Hungarian Empire; all under the House of Hapsburg, a regime that had lasted 300 years, but only had another 22 months to run.  All of modern history is just one lengthy lifetime long. 

John Bell Hood

There was a confederate general, John Bell Hood, who was one of the Confederacy’s bravest, though by no means one of its most talented, generals.  At Antietam, his brigade took 85% casualties in a few hours.  At Gettysburg, Hood suffered a wound which cost him the use of one of his arms.  Two months later, at Chickamauga, Hood was commanding a division and suffered a wound that led to the amputation of one of his legs.  In 1864, he was briefly my Great Grandfather Mitchell’s commanding officer as being the General in charge of the army of Tennessee; leading it to one bloody defeat after another I've often wondered if Al Cap, the creator of the Li’l Abner comic series had Hood in mind when he created the character of Confederate General Jubilation T. Cornpone, the engineer of Cornpone’s defeat, Cornpone’s Disaster, Cornpone’s Debacle and of course Cornpone’s Utter Devastation.

I wonder how many people reading this, upon hearing of Hood’s loss of leg one month after losing an arm thought of John Cleese’s portrayal of the Black Knight of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. 

Dietrich von Hülsen-Haeseler

Dietrich von Hülsen-Haeseler was a German army officer from a titled Prussian family who succeeded in gaining a position as an aide to camp to Kaiser Wilhelm and ultimately achieved the rank of Major General.  One of his less savory duties was assisting in a cover-up when it came to light that one of the Kaiser’s favorite companions for all male excursions turned out to be homosexual even though he was married with 8 children.  I’ve often wondered if the history of 20th century Europe would have been dramatically different if Kaiser Wilhelm’s mother hadn’t had such a horribly difficult delivery which permanently damaged the future Kaiser’s left arm. And I wonder if maybe Kaiser Bill didn’t get enough oxygen at a critical stage in delivery.  Kaiser Bill certainly had a really bizarre sense of humor, which his close aids and senior government officials played along with.  Hearing about some of their antics reminds me of Lord Acton dictum: “power tends to corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely.”  During one black forest hunting trip (apparently this stag hunt was a stag affair), Major General Hülsen-Haeseler, by this time in his late 50s, helped provide the evening’s entertainment by dancing for the Kaiser wearing nothing but a pink ballerina’s tutu.

What an extremely inopportune time to have a massively and instantly fatal heart attack!!! This time, the Kaiser had to ask someone else to clean up the scandal. 

Jack Soo’s Last Laugh

Jack Soo was the professional name of the child of a Japanese immigrant family named Suzuki (Suzuki happens to be the Japanese name for Smith).  Achieving considerable success as a singer and actor, he played John Wayne’s South Vietnamese counterpart in that all time camp flick “The Green Berets.”  Soo’s most memorable line in that film was, “We build many camps, clobber many VC.  Affirmative?” 

However, Soo’s most famous role was that of Detective Nick Yemana in the mid-70s comedy “Barney Miller.”  The show featured an absolutely superlative ensemble cast with Detective Yemana frequently making brilliant sardonic comments.  I note in passing that some of his humor was racial without being racist.  Example, Yemana once commented, “I don’t think the Chief likes Japanese cops.  They mess up the looks of the St. Patrick’s day parade.”  Or after hearing an eastern European fellow describing the delight that he felt (Yaakov Smirnoff) made a guest appearance and spoke of his delight at seeing the Statue of Liberty for the first time, Yemana dead panned “my parents felt the same the first time the saw Alcatraz” (for anyone who’s slow on the uptake for 30 years Alcatraz was America’s highest security federal prison).

One of the running gags on “Barney Miller” was that Nick Yemana, while a capable detective could not make a decent pot of coffee to save his life.  After the completion of the show’s 4th season, Soo discovered that he had cancer and died shortly thereafter.  When his co-star Hal Linden visited him in the hospital, at the end of the visit as the orderly wheeled Soo out of the room, he reverted to character and called out, “It must have been the coffee Barney!”

A Texas Story

When I was in law school, an elderly professor told a story about a Texas Judge from long ago who was chided about the fact that in Texas the penalty for second degree murder was a shorter prison sentence than horse stealing.  The judge’s response professor Rhodes told me was “We got some folks down here that need killin’, we don't have any horses that need stealing.” I am reminded of that Texas jurist’s observation when I hear of Justin Bieber’s possible incarceration.  A great many people apparently think it is hilarious to make jokes about Mr. Bieber getting sodomized by his fellow inmates should he go to jail (these same jokes are frequently used by democrats any time a republican gets sent to prison).  While I believe there are great many people who need to be locked up, I don’t think *any*one needs to be raped.

The Swimsuit Issue Issue

For the last 40-some years, I’ve been enjoying America’s most spectacular bit of cheesecake: the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition, which always sets off a mini firestorm in February.  Puritans, some feminists, and some athletic purists get riled about young women modeling swimsuits at beach resorts around the globe. I never had a strong opinion about the matter, until this past year when some “genius” at Sports Illustrated (SI) decided that, since they had conducted photo shoots with models on six different continents, they would do one on the seventh — Antarctica. 

I would like to point out that I know something about extremely cold weather.  I spent 5 winters in Alaska and 1 in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia (where the temperature frequently stays below 30 degrees F for weeks on end).  I was genuinely horrified to learn that SI asked Kate Upton to pose in a bikini on an Antarctic beach where, even in the summer time, can be 30 below.  I was further horrified to hear Ms. Upton report that, at times, she felt dizzy during the shoot.  I will refrain from any smart-aleck comments on how dizzy she had to be to agree to the shoot in the first place.  It sounds to me that Ms. Upton was in danger of suffering from hypothermia.  In the first place — and I realize that I might get some ribbing at expressing concern for Ms. Upton who is by now a millionaire dozens of times over — anyone who asked a another human being to subject herself to that kind of cold while only partially dressed should either be publicly horse whipped or subjected to that same treatment themselves. 

At the beginning of this month, I went shopping to get my father a 2014 calendar and I very pointedly avoided buying the one that SI published.

A Depressing Statistic

I happened to look up the 11 American cities with the highest per capita murder rates last year, as well as their ethnic demographics and I have to say they make me deeply pessimistic about this country’s future.  Read them and draw your own conclusions.

A Good Cop’s Record

Some of my readers might recall that a man who was once quite literally “the boy next door,” Rod Wittich, joined the Columbus Police Force a bit over thirty (30) years ago and has served as Patrol Officer, Patrol Sergeant, Sex Crimes Investigator, Internal Investigator, and now Patrol Lieutenant.  In my humble opinion, Rod Wittich is a very good cop.  He has told me something about his career that I regard as a big case of good news/bad news: he saw every person he ever arrested for a sex crime convicted, but never anyone he arrested for domestic violence.

Bethel Break Up

I spent five years in Bethel, Alaska working as a public defender.  Bethel, Alaska is a town which is, geographically, closer to Siberia than it is to Anchorage (399 miles to the east).  Bethel is located on the banks of the Kuskokwim River and when the river is frozen the only way to get to Bethel is to fly in (unless you have an absolutely hellaciously good all-terrain vehicle or are a fanatical sled dog musher).

Every year there is a major celebration when the ice breaks up.  The townspeople put a device out on the ice, and when the instrument registers movement, it’s party time!!  The break-up festival has been going on since 1924 and has been celebrated (with very few exceptions) every year since.  I offer the following statistics and people who want to argue climate change can make of them what they want.  I will note that the earliest break up Bethel has experienced was April 24th back in 1940 and the latest was June 3rd in 1964.

Clerical Decline

I recently learned that in 1965 there were almost 200,000 nuns in the United States; approximately 1 in 1,000 Americans.  Today that figure is 60,000; one of every 5,000 Americans.  The average nun in the United States is almost 70, so that decline is going to become even more precipitous.  In 1965, there were 58,000 Catholic Priests in the United States.  Today the figure is 30,000 and 50% of them are over 70.  Some people are calling this a crisis for the Catholic Church.  I regard this as a very encouraging outbreak of common sense. I have, at times, pointed out to my classmates at Notre Dame Law School, that until the last century or two, the best and the brightest of all Europe (until the reformation) and in majority Catholic Countries after that, never had children.  What are the long-term genetic consequences of centuries of selective breeding for stupidity? (Discuss amongst yourselves.)

Coincidental Name

Back in May 2011, when the Navy Seals killed Osama Bin Laden in Pakistan, I commented that, while I’m reluctant to second guess the men on the scene, it would have been a great thing to capture Osama Bin Laden since he would be great source of intelligence.  After they captured Osama Bin Laden, I commented that I approved of the Navy giving him a proper burial at sea; quoting Nietzsche, “Whosoever fights monsters should take care that they not turn into one.” A Jewish friend of mine emailed me back opining that Osama Bin Laden should have been wrapped in bacon. I get it.  Hedy wants something really, really, really bad to happen to Bin Laden. (Is everybody with her on that? Show of hands please. Yep, I thought so.)

However, while I wholeheartedly concur with Hedy’s antipathy towards that murdering scumbag, I seriously doubt that she knew that one of my Notre Dame law school classmates was a very fine lady named Hilary Bacon.

Molotov’s Last Job

Besides giving his name to the Molotov cocktail (Vyacheslav Mikhailovich Molotov, 1890 –1986) was probably the second most powerful man in the Soviet Union in the past 15 years of Stalin’s regime.  Learning about Molotov gave me a whole new insight into the absolute horror of life under Soviet rule.  Molotov was frequently required to countersign Stalin’s execution and arrest lists.  One day, Stalin gave Molotov an exile order with Molotov’s wife’s name on it.  Molotov later wept, but he did not dare even protest that order. After Stalin’s death, Molotov wound up on the wrong side of a power struggle with Nakita Khrushchev’s faction and found himself stripped of his title of Foreign Minister.  He then received a dramatic demotion.  He was sent to be the Soviet Ambassador in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia — 3,669.7 miles and 4 times zones from Moscow. After a couple of years in that post, Khrushchev had Molotov expelled from the Communist Party.  While Molotov wept at the news, he was by Soviet standards incredibly lucky.  He had another 25 years to live and did not receive a bullet in the back of the head as had the millions of other Soviet citizens whose death warrants he had cosigned.

P.S.  While researching Molotov I came across an amazing coincidence about Molotov’s wife.  She was Jewish and one of her childhood friends was a woman now known as Golda Meir.

Nashville Mystery

I’ve already written about the Civil War experiences of my paternal grandfather’s father, Lt. William T. Mitchell of the 3^rd Tennessee Infantry Regiment.  He joined that unit in April of 1861 and resigned his commission September 4, 1864 (Getting to Know My Great Grandfather).  I’ve never been able to find his letter of resignation, but it turned out to be a good career move.  The next seven months were not good ones for the men of the army of Tennessee.  Last year I read a book about the 3^rd Tennessee regimen and learned that by mid-December of 1864, that unit which originally consisted of almost 900 men was down to 21 men and 3 “colored servants.” Even that late in the war, more than 2 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, the confederate army still had black men attached to that unit as servants.  I’ve often regretted that my great grandfather did not keep a diary.  I also wish those “colored servants” had left some record behind.  It would be fascinating to learn what they were thinking.

Baby Mitchell x 3

Several years ago, the daughter of one of my favorite professors at Ohio State married a young black man named Sean Patrick Mitchell.  When she had her first child, I got to kid her and the rest of her family that I was deeply honored that they had named the child after me.  Well, the kid’s name is Mitchell, isn't it?  By the time she'd had her third kid, that gag had gotten a bit old.  Now, at this point, I imagine a great many people are saying, “Oh how wonderful!”  Well, not so fast.  My friend’s daughter, shortly after delivering her third child, made the very alarming discovering that while her husband professed to love her and his children; apparently, he loved his crack pipe more.  She finally threw him out of the house, got a divorce and is getting her life back on track while raising three biracial children. 

That story reminds me of the wisdom Ralph Bunche showed more than 50 years ago while at a high society dinner party when the subject of civil rights came up.  An elderly lady asked Bunche (not realizing that he was a light-skinned black man), “would you want your daughter to marry a Negro?”  Bunche considered the question for a moment and then replied, “Well, not just *any* Negro.”

Phoebe Ann Mosley’s Brush with Destiny

Phoebe Ann Mosley grew up in a very poor farm family in Ohio in the 1800s.  I can only imagine that she frequently had conversations with her mother that went something like this:

“Hi Mom what’s for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t know Phoebe. Have you shot anything?” 

From a very early age, Phoebe developed absolutely extraordinary skills as a marksman, because, for her family, it was quite literally a matter of shoot something or go hungry.  Many years later, she crossed paths will Buffalo Bill Coty and her future husband Frank Butler.  She then achieved legendary status under the stage name of Annie Oakley.  While there are many legends that have grown up around Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show, as a sharp shooter, Annie Oakley was the genuine article.  One of her stunts was to shoot the ash off a lit cigar at 20 paces, which she was able to do on a regular basis. One night while touring Europe, Buffalo Bill asked for a volunteer from the audience to hold the cigar.  To the crowd’s absolute horror, Kaiser Wilhelm, the emperor of Germany, came forward.  I have no information as to whether Annie had been drinking the night before, but I’m sure that everyone in the audience and in the Wild West troop held their breath until Annie did indeed shoot the ash off of Kaiser Bill’s lit cigar.  About 20 years later, when America entered the First World War, Annie Oakley wrote Kaiser Wilhelm to ask if he would care to repeat that stunt. She received no reply.

Book of Lamentation/Consolation

In 588 B.C. the Babylonian army took Jerusalem and destroyed Solomon’s temple.  The prophet Jeremiah lived in a cave nearby and spent many years writing what is known as the Book of Lamentations.  He could see the ruins of the temple from where he lived and for such a devout man it must have been an absolutely heartbreaking sight.

There’s no way for me to send a message back to him.  But if I could, I'd like to pick up a phone and have a conversation that went something like this:

“Hey Jerry, it’s Kent.  Yes, this is a device which sends messages from the distant future and translates English into Hebrew, but never mind. Look Jerry, I understand that you are totally bummed out about the temple being destroyed.  That’s a tough one.  But I've got some good news for you, guy: you are going to live long enough to see that temple rebuilt and it will then stand as one of the great architectural wonders of the world for the next six centuries.

“I was afraid you were going to ask me that.  Look, Jerry, the question of rebuilding a third time is still under discussion today, 2600 years later; but here’s some consolation for you: even though the stones of that temple have been destroyed, the people of your tribe have managed to survive for 2600 years and to spread throughout the world even to lands you never even knew existed. There are those who speak Hebrew and practice Judaism in Israel even today.  Furthermore, they've kept their faith living in lands 20 times further from Jerusalem than Babylon is, and Babylon is a land only known through scholars of ancient history.  You see, faith is not about the building.”

The Mike Wallace Question

Many years ago, Mike Wallace appeared on a panel discussion program along with Peter Jennings and the moderator asked the question: If you were accompanying a unit of enemy soldiers in the field and an American unit was about to walk into an ambush they had set, would you try to warn the Americans?  Peter Jennings’ initial reaction was that he would try to do so.  At that point, Mike Wallace jumped all over Jennings’ case; going into a tirade about professional ethics.  I find it extremely ironic that a Canadian citizen showed more concern for American servicemen’s lives than did a former U.S. Navy Officer.  To me, this raises an interesting question: If American troops ever find an American journalist embedded with a unit of foreign fighters, what should they do with that journalist?

The Day after Woody’s Last Day

Some of my readers know that one of the greatest experiences of my early adulthood was getting to be friends with Ohio State’s legendary football coach, Woody Hayes.  As a child, I’d been terribly un-athletic (and my brothers always exhibited great sensitivity and understand about that fact), and the fact that I got to hang out and discuss history with a man as famous as Woody put me on cloud nine.  The last day of Woody’s life, he had breakfast at the faculty club, with two Yale PhDs (including Professor Williamson Murray, a man I’d introduced to Woody years before). On the night of March 11, 1987, Woody went to sleep in his own bed and never woke up. I could think of a whole lot worse ways of dying than going out like Woody did.  In the days after Woody’s passing, there was a joke circulated around Columbus that death didn’t dare come for Woody in the day time.  If it had, there would have been one helluva fight.

It was not until later that I learned that Woody had been scheduled to go over to a local elementary school and give a talk to a group of 5th graders on March 12th. That still strikes me as great tribute to Woody’s character.  He genuinely cared about education and young people (or “youngsters” as he had always called them).  The Columbus Dispatch did a photo of the 5th grade class looking sad because they missed their chance to meet Woody.  When word of this got back to Archie Griffin, Ohio State’s legendary 2-time Heisman trophy winner, he went over to the grade school and gave a talk to the kids.  I’m reminded of something Woody once said: “Archie Griffin is finer human being than he is a football player, and he’s the finest football player I’ve ever seen.”

Jarron Collins

I see that Jason Collins is very much in the news since he came out as the NBA’s first openly gay player.  There has been considerable comment on the fact that he has not been able to sign a contract with any NBA team.  To this I point out that it is hardly news that a 35-year old player who has been with 6 teams in 12 years in the NBA would have difficulty making an NBA roster.  If Mr. Collins did sign a contract, he would not be the oldest player in the NBA, but he would definitely qualify for elder statesman status.  While listening to some pundits speculate on this matter, I asked the question, “What if Jason Collins had a twin whose sexuality was straight?”  Would he be able to get an NBA contract?”  Well, low and behold, he does have a twin brother named Jarron.  They are both 6’11,” they both played college ball at Stanford, and they are both currently without an NBA contract.  To the question of: “Is Jason Collins being discriminated against because of his sexual orientation?” I would say it has not been proven.

The America’s Later Career

I imagine that almost everyone has heard of the America’s Cup named after the ship that won a yachting competition held off the south coast of England back in 1851. When Queen Victoria heard that an American ship named the America had won the race, she asked, “Who won second place?”  The yachting official’s response was, “Madame, there IS no second place!”  For well over a century, the America’s Cup served as the source of an intense rivalry between filthy rich yachtsmen on both sides of the Atlantic who clearly had entirely too much time on their hands. 

I recently learned that the good ship America had an interesting post-racing career.  It served on both sides in the American civil war. When the war broke out, some wealthy southerners put the America into service as a blockade runner, until 1862 when they scuttled it to keep it from falling into Union hands.  Union forces promptly managed to raise and repair the America and put it work enforcing the blockade.  Sadly the America has not survived to this day.  It burned in a warehouse fire after serving many years at the U.S. Naval Academy.  I have always regarded yachting as the perfect sport for millionaires with a great deal more dollars than sense.

Defending My Secretary

My secretary is a wonderful woman of a certain age named Marie Flynn, who supplements her social security income by doing my typing.  My good friend Doug Dougherty told me many years ago, that if you want to be a successful lawyer, take care of your secretary first.  I have tried to take that advice to heart.  

A few months ago, Ms. Flynn told me she was completely puzzled by a letter she received from someone she’d never heard of before.  I glanced at it briefly and it seemed to be in the tone of “Hi there, how are you, you’re so wonderful I would love to hear from, etc. etc. etc.” I was just as puzzled as she until I examined the envelope and noticed that the return address included a *six* digit number. It then dawned on me that Marie had received a fan letter from a guy doing time in a Maryland prison.  At that point, I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry (I assure one and all that Marie does not make a habit of socializing with convicted criminals).  I IMMEDIATELY dictated a letter to Marie’s would-be suitor informing him that if he ever wrote her again I would pursue both legal action and administrative remedies.  I signed it, including my Ohio Supreme Court registration number.  I then called the prison and notified the corrections officer in charge of the prison’s intelligence section that this guy was trying to scam my secretary.  We have not heard from that convict Casanova since.  

Be advised: no one knows exactly how nasty I can get until you start messing with my secretary.

$40 in Olongapo

Back in December of 1989, I was on board the U.S.S. Leahy when it pulled into Olongapo in the Philippines, so I can say that I have seen, first-hand, exactly what jerks American teenagers can be when they are around young women who are desperate to feed their families.  I abided by the great unwritten law of ships visiting Olongapo: Don't take a camera ashore because somebody might cram it down your throat.  I remember having a Coke at one of the Olongapo bars.  One of the local girls chatted with me and I wound up just giving her a $20 and told her to take the rest of the night off.  The Filipino girls are built like American middle school girls.  I can see being nice to them, but I kept things G-rated.

I did, after all, wind up spending $40 on a gal in Olongapo by the name of Chat Cruz. Some of my readers will rightly suspect I am throwing a curve ball.  I found out she was an unmarried woman with 3 children, so I invited her, her three kids and her mother out to dinner. The tab for a first rate dinner in Olongapo came to $40.  Afterwards, as I walked them home, her youngest — a little boy of about 6 — reached up and caught hold of my little finger as we walked. I couldn't help but wonder how he would cope with his life’s challenges in the years ahead.  Unsurprisingly, nobody ever mentioned anything about those children’s father(s).

The Arkansas Question

My father grew up in Osceola, Arkansas; a county seat town in the extreme northeastern corner of the state.  He once mentioned to me that when he was growing up some of the stores were owned by Jewish families and that one local merchant had a flower bed in the shape in the Star of David.  I did a bit of research on the internet and, while there had been many Jewish families in Mississippi County, there had never been enough of them to organize a synagogue.  My slightly warped sense of humor and equally warped curiosity got the better of me.  I wondered what would be the reaction of a good Jewish family if one of their children was accepted at the University of Arkansas who’s mascot is the razor back hog.  I did some more web surfing and found out that there was a Jewish student association at the University of Arkansas.  I sent that association’s president a very polite email inquiring if they had any problem with the mascot.  I received a very nice reply: “We like cheering for them we just don’t eat them.” I wonder if they qualify as the “kosher hogs?”

John de Lancie

Back in 1974, the BBC put on a 13-part miniseries entitled “The Fall of Eagles,” which described the end of the imperial dynasties of Germany, Austria, Hungary and Russia. 

One of my favorite professors from my days at Ohio State, Alan Beyerchen, appeared on a panel discussion at the local PBS TV station with two other professors, commenting on the episodes.  He told me that he didn’t mind speaking about “The Fall of Eagles,” but he certainly hoped that his and his colleagues’ commentary would not become known as “The Rise of Turkeys.”

One of the best performances on that miniseries was Patrick Stewarts’ depiction of Vladimir Lenin.  I recently watched one of those episodes again and was surprised and amused to see that one of Lenin’s rivals in In one of the pre-revolutionary communist party caucuses was portrayed by John de Lancie, the actor who portrayed Q in Star Trek: The New Generation.  I found myself chuckling, “those two are destined to meet in a different life in a different century.”  

Name Change?

While listening to Congresswoman Sheila Jackson Lee speak, I wonder if I am the only one who thinks she might want to consider changing her name to Sheila Sherman Grant.

Nuclear Pyramid

If someone asked me to complete a cruise on a Soviet-built nuclear submarine, I would reply that Bill Gates and Warren Buffet together do not half the amount of money it would take for me to run that risk.  Not only are catastrophic accidents all too common in the former Soviet submarine fleet, radiation leaks are so common and so severe that the hazardous pay premium that soviet sailors on those vessels receive is properly referred to “childlessness pay.” On the other hand, I had absolutely no problem at all spending two months on board a nuclear powered U.S. Navy vessel.  I taught History and English on board the USS George Washington CVN-73 from July to September, of 1994.  Similarly, I would have no safety concerns whatsoever about riding on an American nuclear sub.  I once asked my brother Bruce if his opposition to nuclear power extended to the nuclear Navy.  When he said, “yes,” I politely asked him if he’d given any thought to the cost of replacing ten Nimitz-class carriers (which go for several billion dollars apiece). He had no response.  The U.S. Navy has commissioned about 190 nuclear submarines and we haven’t lost one since the Scorpion in 1968.  I’d say, “You’re in a whole lot more danger driving on any American highway than you are on a Rickover-designed submarine.” The total number of accident-free reactor years the U.S. Navy has amassed now exceeds 5,000 — a period longer than the pyramids have been standing.

Riot Control

I see that in Russia, a group of women activists protesting against the Putin regime have named themselves “Pussy Riot.”  I think that shows they have a real gift for the dramatic. Some of those women have been in and out of prison and, whatever their political agenda, I cannot begrudge them very considerable physical and moral courage. I hope I don’t sound like a total jerk when I say that, if I heard of group in my neck of woods call “Pussy Riot,” I would first find out what they wanted and then do just about anything to make them happy.