One of my less-agreeable clients was a fourteen-year-old boy named (I am not making this up) Keon Pleasant. The first time I met the young Mr. Pleasant, I counseled him by telling him, “Seeing as how your mom threw you out of the house and your grandmother was nice enough to take you in, if your grandmother tells you to mop the floor, do NOT hit her with the mop. Besides that, Keon, do not call her ‘bitch.’”
“Furthermore, when two female Columbus Police Officers show up, do not call them ‘bitch’ and do not threaten them with a mop. I don’t care what you saw in Jackie Chan movies, I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring a mop to a gun fight.”
I thought that was some excellent advice. Unfortunately, I neglected to tell him that before Magistrate Woodrow Hudson asked Keon if he had anything to say before he passed sentence on the assault conviction, it would be a bad idea to call Magistrate Hudson (who happens to be a black gentleman) a ‘bitch.’ Yes, that’s what Keon, a teenage black kid called a middle-aged black man in court. The Judge recognized the young man had some serious issues and placed Keon in a special ninety-day program.
When I learned that that would mean a ninety-day delay in me getting to submit my bill, I thought, but did not say, “Let me at that little bitch; I’ll straighten him out.”
I represented Keon on two other occasions. The first charges: One, truant. Two, jaywalking. And three, in possession of *half* a bottle of vodka. The second time was for a felony account of assaulting a teacher. I told fifteen-year-old Keon that he needed to clean up his act, or he was going to get permed, and put into Juvenile Hall.
I could tell by his contemptuous expression that I wasn’t getting to him at all. He had heard that speech so many times. Ironically enough, shortly after that incident, I left Ohio and was gone for more than six-and-a-half years. When I returned to Columbus in 2005, my curiosity got the better of me and I did a bit of research about what had happened to Mr. Pleasant. I was not the least bit surprised to learn that he was not only behind bars, but was doing time at Lucasville, Ohio’s maximum-security prison for aggravated armed robbery with a gun specification. I can’t say I’m eager to see Keon Pleasant again. Since he was a pretty scrawny kid, I think it’s far more likely than not that he has a cellmate who is a whole lot bigger and stronger than him. I suspect that man now calls Keon ‘bitch.’
Monday, June 29, 2009
The "B" Word
When I was working at Meade Data Central in 1990/1991, I answered phones and helped people extract information from the LEXIS/NEXIS database. I would tell callers that if they could put it into words, I could search it for them. One day, I got a call from a guy who told me that a supervisor at work had referred to one of the cleaning staff as a “black bitch.” He said that the other cleaning women were so incensed that they demanded that the foulmouthed supervisor be fired, or they would quit. The man asked me if there were any similar cases on record.
I got into the NLRB database. (During the Roosevelt Administration, Congress authorized the creation of special courts to hear labor-related cases. Appeals from the NLRB go directly to the Circuit Court of Appeals and from there to the Supreme Court.) So I searched “b-l-a-c-k w/1 b-i-t-c-h” to pick up any reference in an NLRB case to the term. I was a bit surprised when I found that the number of “black bitch” cases numbered in the teens. Some people might hear this and conclude that Americans are overly sensitive. That’s one point of view. The flip side of the argument is that, in the past generation, language that might have been tolerated fifty years ago is now grounds for a lawsuit.
Personally, I think that the only acceptable place for the term, “black bitch” would be at a gathering of the American Kennel Club.”
I got into the NLRB database. (During the Roosevelt Administration, Congress authorized the creation of special courts to hear labor-related cases. Appeals from the NLRB go directly to the Circuit Court of Appeals and from there to the Supreme Court.) So I searched “b-l-a-c-k w/1 b-i-t-c-h” to pick up any reference in an NLRB case to the term. I was a bit surprised when I found that the number of “black bitch” cases numbered in the teens. Some people might hear this and conclude that Americans are overly sensitive. That’s one point of view. The flip side of the argument is that, in the past generation, language that might have been tolerated fifty years ago is now grounds for a lawsuit.
Personally, I think that the only acceptable place for the term, “black bitch” would be at a gathering of the American Kennel Club.”
Speedy's Big Mistake
Back in the early 1960s, there was a black kid named Joe in Temple Texas in ninth grade. His mom was having a tough time of it with four children after the father abandoned the family. A local kid named Speedy figured it was a good idea to tease the kid from the broken home and began tormenting little Joe every day. Dear little Joe’s mom told him what moms have said for time immemorial: don’t go down to his level.
One day, Speedy did something I consider a violation of the Geneva Convention of Schoolyard Bullying. He took five dollars from Joe’s mom’s purse and told Joe about it. Joe went totally ballistic, cleaning up the floor with the guy. Of all the people on God’s green earth that you would not want to provoke, Speedy picked about the worst guy I can think of. Want to guess what Joe’s last name was? Green.
For the benefit of non-football fans, Joe had not yet reached his adult playing weight or height, but Mean Joe Green had a formidable physique. During his thirteen years in the NFL, he was a perennial All-Pro and is a current Hall of Famer.
I seriously doubt that Speedy will ever ask for a rematch.
One day, Speedy did something I consider a violation of the Geneva Convention of Schoolyard Bullying. He took five dollars from Joe’s mom’s purse and told Joe about it. Joe went totally ballistic, cleaning up the floor with the guy. Of all the people on God’s green earth that you would not want to provoke, Speedy picked about the worst guy I can think of. Want to guess what Joe’s last name was? Green.
For the benefit of non-football fans, Joe had not yet reached his adult playing weight or height, but Mean Joe Green had a formidable physique. During his thirteen years in the NFL, he was a perennial All-Pro and is a current Hall of Famer.
I seriously doubt that Speedy will ever ask for a rematch.
Blakey on Corruption
One of the neatest things I learned from Professor Blakey at Notre Dame was, “some of you are going to become public officials. Some of you are going to take bribes. If you want to know which public officials are corrupt, go through their bank records and look for the checks made out in round numbers. When was the last time you got a paycheck for precisely $1,000? The really smart crooks put money in safety deposit boxes.”
I called Professor Blakey when I learned that Hillary Clinton had made $100,000 off of a 1,000-dollar investment. He just laughed.
I called Professor Blakey when I learned that Hillary Clinton had made $100,000 off of a 1,000-dollar investment. He just laughed.
Blakey on Adultery
When I was at Notre Dame Law School, I once heart Professor G. Robert Blakey comment on the all-too-frequent phenomenon of politicians cheating on their spouses. He said something that has stayed with me for more than twenty years. He said, “Adultery is no longer considered beyond the pale.” He added that it certainly wasn’t the way he led his life. Incidentally, Professor Blakey and his wife have eight children, so I doubt he has the time, and he obviously adheres to the Catholic Church’s policy on birth control.
He continued by saying that it’s one thing for a man to fall in love with a woman other than his wife, but a man who cheats on his wife incessantly shows a lack of human empathy, both for his wife and for the other woman. I simply have to agree with him.
He continued by saying that it’s one thing for a man to fall in love with a woman other than his wife, but a man who cheats on his wife incessantly shows a lack of human empathy, both for his wife and for the other woman. I simply have to agree with him.
The Mormon Corpsman
George Whalen was a Mormon kid from Utah. Shortly after the outbreak of WWII, he enlisted in the United States Navy and was trained as a corpsman. For the benefit of life-long civilians, a Navy corpsman is a vital part of a Marine combat unit. Any time a Marine is wounded, he was scream, “Corpsman!” at the top of his lungs. He will expect a corpsman to come running. A retired Marine Corps Sergeant Major once explained to me that the last person in the world you want to get in a fight with is a Navy corpsman attached to a Marine platoon. If you mess with the corpsman, there are going to be a whole bunch of thoroughly ticked off Marines looking for you. Years later, he said that he feared he would spend the entire war cleaning bedpans. He was assigned to a Marine infantry platoon. On the 19th of February, 1945, Whalen’s unit hit the beach at Iwo Jima. On Iwo Jima, Japanese soldiers were told that corpsmen were especially desirable targets because of the services they provide. From the first day on, casualties were horrendous. Whalen, a few days after the landing, while treating a wounded comrade, was wounded himself. A piece of shrapnel temporarily cost him his sight in one eye. Whalen patched up the Marine, then patched himself up, and refused evacuation.
A few days later, Whalen was wounded a second time. Again, he stayed with his buddies and refused evacuation. A few days later, still, his platoon got the word that the corpsman in the platoon beside theirs had been so badly wounded that he had to be removed and that they had about a dozen wounded Marines in need of immediate care. Whalen crawled over a hundred yards under enemy fire, treated a dozen wounded Marines and then crawled a hundred yards back, again, under enemy fire, to return to his buddies. Toward the end of the battle, Whalen was wounded a third time, so seriously that over Petty Officer Whalen’s objections, his buddies evacuated him to the rear.
Whalen survived Iwo Jima and was shipped home to the States to recuperate. About a month later, when he’d fully recovered, he got an order to get on a train to Washington, D.C. That day, he was ushered into the Oval Office, where President Harry Truman presented him with three Purple Hearts, two Navy Crosses and the Congressional Medal of Honor. After the war, Whalen had no use for people calling him a hero. Indeed, rather than live off of his laurels, he enlisted in the US Army and retired twenty years later as a major.
As of this writing, George Whalen is still alive and in his late eighties. There are people who argue that the federal government cannot provide quality health care. HA!!!
Try telling that garbage to George Whalen’s shipmates.
A few days later, Whalen was wounded a second time. Again, he stayed with his buddies and refused evacuation. A few days later, still, his platoon got the word that the corpsman in the platoon beside theirs had been so badly wounded that he had to be removed and that they had about a dozen wounded Marines in need of immediate care. Whalen crawled over a hundred yards under enemy fire, treated a dozen wounded Marines and then crawled a hundred yards back, again, under enemy fire, to return to his buddies. Toward the end of the battle, Whalen was wounded a third time, so seriously that over Petty Officer Whalen’s objections, his buddies evacuated him to the rear.
Whalen survived Iwo Jima and was shipped home to the States to recuperate. About a month later, when he’d fully recovered, he got an order to get on a train to Washington, D.C. That day, he was ushered into the Oval Office, where President Harry Truman presented him with three Purple Hearts, two Navy Crosses and the Congressional Medal of Honor. After the war, Whalen had no use for people calling him a hero. Indeed, rather than live off of his laurels, he enlisted in the US Army and retired twenty years later as a major.
As of this writing, George Whalen is still alive and in his late eighties. There are people who argue that the federal government cannot provide quality health care. HA!!!
Try telling that garbage to George Whalen’s shipmates.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Ian Fleming and President Kennedy
In the 1960s, as President Kennedy enjoyed a level of a level of slavishly devoted adoration from the press corps, not to be equalled until the present day. (For example, he once claimed to be able to speed read at the rate of 1,000 words a minute- and the reporters took him as his word.) About a year into his Presidency, someone asked for a list JFK's favorite books he'd read recently, and the White House dutifully released a list of ten titles- one of which was Ian Fleming's James Bond novel, "From Russia With Love." (Yep, that's the one where Bond stepped into his hotel room to find a beautiful Russian spy waiting for him in bed. No wonder JFK liked it!)
As a result of that Presidential endorsement, bookstores could not keep it in stock, and the publisher went through several new printings. So Ian Fleming's publisher was quite pleased. Ian Fleming's agent was quite pleased. And Ian Fleming was quite pleased too. And in 1964, in the last James Bond novel that Fleming wrote before his death, there is a scene where there is a lull in the action- Bond gets into bed, and picks up a copy of "Profiles in Courage." Obviously, that was Fleming's way of saying, "Gee, Mr. President, thanks for plugging my book, so I guess I'll plug *your* book."
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