While studying in England many years ago, I learned that one of the ways to resolve a lawsuit was trial by combat. The theory was that God would not allow a just cause to lose, so you either picked up your broadsword or battle axe or got a champion to do it for you. One of my favorite clients is a very sweet-natured young lady named Jody, who is five-foot-nothing and probably doesn’t weigh over ninety pounds. About a year and a half ago, I got her a consent decree against her babydaddy, who, I’m told (and I wholeheartedly believe), once roughed her up when she was holding her child.
After resolution of the consent decree, I was a distant observer on several occasions while the two parents would do pickup and dropoff for the little kidster on visitation days. Yes, you might say I was running an escort service. Jody is relocating out of state and another attorney handled the negotiations to modify visitation. While I’m glad she’s going to a better environment for her and her child, I’ll certainly be sorry to see her leave.
Every time I see her babydaddy, even though he’s twenty-five years younger than I am, I feel nostalgia for one of the practices of Arthurian England, and I stifle the urge to say to that (expletive deleted), “Okay, you, me, parking lot. Be sure to fill out your organ donor card.”
Friday, May 28, 2010
In Pace Resquiat
Last week, I was leaving my bank after taking care of some business when I opened the door for an elderly black gentleman who was wearing a sweater decorated with a pattern of scarlet and gray squares. I told him that because of his colors, he was definitely one of my people. He told me that he had retired from Ohio State. I mentioned my father, who had done the same thing and told him that I am old enough to have known Woody Hayes. (Fine, fine, I’m bragging.) This gentleman, Michael Ervin, surprised me when he replied, “I used to WORK for Woody Hayes.”
I got to hear a very good story. Mr. Ervin told me that when he returned from Korea in 1953, he and his brother managed to land a job in the food service department at the Stadium dorm and he got to see both the players on the team and their coach on a regular basis. He told me that Woody was a great guy to work for and that at Christmastime, he handed out boxes of chocolates and ten-dollar bills, which was a lot of money at the time.
I offered to treat Mr. Ervin to lunch, which he declined. I figured that for a true Buckeye fan, it was the least I could do.
Some people might wonder why I tell so many stories about Woody Hayes, a man who died twenty-three years ago. I thought about that recently while visiting Woody’s grave in Union Cemetery. It occurred to me that Woody Hayes was a man who “walked with kings and lost not the common touch.:” He always listened to what I had to say and he treated my opinions with respect. I very rarely got that in the home in which I grew up.
Rest in Peace, Woody.
I got to hear a very good story. Mr. Ervin told me that when he returned from Korea in 1953, he and his brother managed to land a job in the food service department at the Stadium dorm and he got to see both the players on the team and their coach on a regular basis. He told me that Woody was a great guy to work for and that at Christmastime, he handed out boxes of chocolates and ten-dollar bills, which was a lot of money at the time.
I offered to treat Mr. Ervin to lunch, which he declined. I figured that for a true Buckeye fan, it was the least I could do.
Some people might wonder why I tell so many stories about Woody Hayes, a man who died twenty-three years ago. I thought about that recently while visiting Woody’s grave in Union Cemetery. It occurred to me that Woody Hayes was a man who “walked with kings and lost not the common touch.:” He always listened to what I had to say and he treated my opinions with respect. I very rarely got that in the home in which I grew up.
Rest in Peace, Woody.
The O’Hare Family Name
If you have ever seen greyhounds chasing a mechanical rabbit around a dog track, you have seen the most conspicuous contribution of a Chicago businessman known as Edward O’Hare. He did quite well for himself in the Second City during the Prohibition era, but, unfortunately, got mixed up with a very rough crowd. Legend has it that he was an associate of Al Capone.
Edward O’Hare came to a very bad end. He died as a result of a blast of submachine gun fire. A great many people on both sides of the law figured that O’Hare had gotten what he deserved. One of O’Hare’s mourners was his son, Butch, who had gone to military school. Some reports are that his father had asked that his son receive a commission as a naval aviator in exchange for him turning state’s evidence against Capone. I can only imagine how young Butch felt at his father’s funeral; not only had his father died young, but under circumstances that forever put the O’Hare family name in disgrace.
Ironically, Butch O’Hare turned out to be a very talented fighter pilot. In early 1942, he and the Wildcat squadron he was leading shot down a group of Japanese bombers that were in danger of sinking his carrier. For his actions, O’Hare received the Congressional Medal of Honor and spent the next eighteen months living a dream life, selling war bonds in the States. Midway through 1943, the need for good fighter pilots was so great that Lieutenant O’Hare was called back into action. He was sent to the Pacific and died under still-mysterious circumstances. O’Hare left a young widow and a lot of grieving friends. In his short life, however, he achieved what many would have considered impossible: he redeemed his family name. Anyone who changes planes in Chicago will walk through the world’s busiest airport: O’Hare International, and will see a replica of Butch O’Hare’s Wildcat fighter.
Edward O’Hare came to a very bad end. He died as a result of a blast of submachine gun fire. A great many people on both sides of the law figured that O’Hare had gotten what he deserved. One of O’Hare’s mourners was his son, Butch, who had gone to military school. Some reports are that his father had asked that his son receive a commission as a naval aviator in exchange for him turning state’s evidence against Capone. I can only imagine how young Butch felt at his father’s funeral; not only had his father died young, but under circumstances that forever put the O’Hare family name in disgrace.
Ironically, Butch O’Hare turned out to be a very talented fighter pilot. In early 1942, he and the Wildcat squadron he was leading shot down a group of Japanese bombers that were in danger of sinking his carrier. For his actions, O’Hare received the Congressional Medal of Honor and spent the next eighteen months living a dream life, selling war bonds in the States. Midway through 1943, the need for good fighter pilots was so great that Lieutenant O’Hare was called back into action. He was sent to the Pacific and died under still-mysterious circumstances. O’Hare left a young widow and a lot of grieving friends. In his short life, however, he achieved what many would have considered impossible: he redeemed his family name. Anyone who changes planes in Chicago will walk through the world’s busiest airport: O’Hare International, and will see a replica of Butch O’Hare’s Wildcat fighter.
Lenny Montana
Anyone who has seen the film The Godfather is never going to forget Lenny Montana, who played Luca Brasi, the hulking chief enforcer of the Corleone family. Lenny Montana had the right build for the part; he was a former professional wrestler who was six-foot-six and weighed over 280 pounds. He was uniquely qualified to play such a part. Aside from his career in wrestling, he was an associate of the Columbo crime family. In the early 1970s, when the film was in production, the head of the Columbo family approached the makers of the film to express his strong displeasure at the prospect of The Godfather being made into a movie. The filmmakers made a deal with Columbo. They would not use the term “mafia” during the film, and they hired Lenny Montana to play Brasi. Montana had never been in a film before, and was quite intimidated at the thought of doing a scene with Marlon Brando. Francis Ford Coppola overheard Montana rehearsing his lines and decided not only to film him in action, but to include it in the finished film.
While the character of Luca Brasi is killed off early in the film, The Godfather was the start of a lucrative second career for Lenny Montana. As I’ve said before, sometimes good things happen to bad people.
While the character of Luca Brasi is killed off early in the film, The Godfather was the start of a lucrative second career for Lenny Montana. As I’ve said before, sometimes good things happen to bad people.
The Enterprise’s First Fight
No, I’m not referring to Admiral Halsey’s WWII flagship, nor to the CV-6 or the first nuclear-powered aircraft carrier, nor the space shuttle, nor the spaceships of Captains Kirk or Picard. I am referring to the very first U.S.S. Enterprise, which saw action over 200 years ago. In the early years of the United States of America, the biggest single expenditure of the federal government was paying money to the Barbary pirates. As any good Moslem who has read the Koran knows, almighty Allah gave the word to Mohammed 1400 years ago that Moslems have the right to capture non-Moslems and hold them for ransom. The Barbary ambassador in Paris pointed this out to Thomas Jefferson in 1785, when Jefferson was still U.S. minister to France. Almost twenty years later, when Jefferson became President, he figured he was going to have to deal with the Barbary pirates.
Having to deal with those pirates was one of the prices of American independence. The Royal Navy protected all British shipping, in an invisible subsidy to British businessmen, but the merchant sailors of any country without a navy were on their own. I’m a bit puzzled that someof the smaller powers didn’t approach the Brists and try to negotiate an insurance policy from the Royal Navy. In any event, one of the ships Jefferson ordered to the Mediterranean was the U.S.S. Enterprise, a (XXX-gun skiff?). As a ruse of war, the Enterprise was flying the Union Jack. One day, it was approached by a Barbary corsair called the Tripoli. The captain of the Enterprise asked the captain of the corsair what he was doing, and the Barbary said, “Hunting Americans.”
A few seconds later, the captain of the Tripoli found that he had indeed found some Americans. Within half an hour, of the Tripoli’s eighty-man crew, thirty were dead and another thirty were wounded. This was just the first skirmish in a campaign that lasted several years.
I see in recent events that Somalis are carrying on that great Moslem tradition of kidnapping merchant seamen for ransom. I’m honestly not sure which is the better solution: to blow them all to Kingdom Come or to negotiate a settlement that would give them the right to sell postcards, t-shirts and posed photos to the tourists on passing cruise ships.
Having to deal with those pirates was one of the prices of American independence. The Royal Navy protected all British shipping, in an invisible subsidy to British businessmen, but the merchant sailors of any country without a navy were on their own. I’m a bit puzzled that someof the smaller powers didn’t approach the Brists and try to negotiate an insurance policy from the Royal Navy. In any event, one of the ships Jefferson ordered to the Mediterranean was the U.S.S. Enterprise, a (XXX-gun skiff?). As a ruse of war, the Enterprise was flying the Union Jack. One day, it was approached by a Barbary corsair called the Tripoli. The captain of the Enterprise asked the captain of the corsair what he was doing, and the Barbary said, “Hunting Americans.”
A few seconds later, the captain of the Tripoli found that he had indeed found some Americans. Within half an hour, of the Tripoli’s eighty-man crew, thirty were dead and another thirty were wounded. This was just the first skirmish in a campaign that lasted several years.
I see in recent events that Somalis are carrying on that great Moslem tradition of kidnapping merchant seamen for ransom. I’m honestly not sure which is the better solution: to blow them all to Kingdom Come or to negotiate a settlement that would give them the right to sell postcards, t-shirts and posed photos to the tourists on passing cruise ships.
Her Majesty’s Birthday
Queen Elizabeth was born April 21, 1926. However, out of consideration for the English people, she officially celebrates her birthday on the first, second or third Saturday in June. I thought that was very nice of her. I have been in England in April. Trust me: most April days in England are no good for outdoor celebration. Question: on which day should Americans offer Her Majesty wishes for good health. For me, I wish Her Majesty good wishes and long life every single day, especially when I consider the kind of monarch the Prince of Wales is likely to turn out to be. Prince Charles seems to be intent on establishing himself as an honorary Moslem. Indeed, I understand that he wishes to become known not as Defender of THE Faith, but Defender of Faith, as in “of religion.” As many disagreements as I have with the Church of England, I think I recognize the lesser of two evils quite clearly. So with that in mind, here’s hoping Her Majesty’s longevity exceeds that of her dear, departed Mum, the Queen Mother.
Iwo Jima: Two Movies and a ‘Joke’ (Rated M for Mature)
I have seen both of Clint Eastwood’s films about Iwo Jima, Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima and I highly recommend them both. There were moments in each film that made me gasp that a layperson may not have appreciated.
One took place close to the end of Flags of Our Fathers, when the actor portraying John Radley was going through is father’s effects after the old gentleman died. Decades before, John Radley’s father had been a corpsman and had participated in the famous flag raising atop Mt. Surabachi, immortalized by Joe Rosenthal’s photograph. Of the six men in that photo, three died on the island. As the son sorts through his late father’s belongings, he comes across a medal with a blue and white ribbon. Most people would not recognize that as the Navy Cross, just one step down from the Medal of Honor.
I’ve always thought that if you want to describe the battle for iwo Jima to a layperson in thirty-five words or less, I would do it as follows: “Any time twenty-six men are awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for capturing eight square miles of some of the world’s most godforsaken real estate, someone in the planning department has SERIOUSLY messed up. “
In the Japanese-language film, Letters from Iwo Jima, there’s a scene in which General Kurabayashi is on the shoreline asking one of his soldiers where he would run if he had encountered machine gun fire. He was doing this to most effectively position his unit’s machine guns. The thing that made me gasp and made my blood run cold was the fact that Kurabayashi apparently correctly guessed exactly where the American landings were going to take place.
What follows is not for the squeamish. There’s one other Iwo Jima story that I heard recounted in a documentary that I viewed while I was in grad school, thirty years ago. One of the speakers was a Marine who fought on Iwo Jima and he related that the one phrase of Japanese that men in his unit had learned was the words for “take off your shirt.” This was because a number of Japanese soldiers would feign surrender while concealing grenades or even satchel charges beneath their uniform blouses as a means of taking American s with them. Needless to say, the Marines got wise to this trick very quickly.
The old Marine relayed that one Japanese soldier stepped forward, still wearing his shirt and the Marines of his unit emptied their Magazines into them. That particular Japanese was carrying a satchel charge that scattered his body parts over a wide area. The Marine also related (he was there and I wasn’t) that a portion of the Japanese soldier’s torso flew through the air and landed on the knees of a Marine who was huddled behind cover so that the Marine was looking at the bare buttocks of his recently deceased enemy. The Marine telling the story related that the surprised Marine shouted, in a West Virginia accent, “My God, am I hit that bad?” After which, the ancient Marine related the entire platoon was useless for the next half hour, since they couldn’t stop laughing.
General Sherman was right. War is hell and Iwo Jima was one of Hell’s lowest circles.
I once read a comment from Gore Vidal that during World War II, the United States Marines had a reputation for not only being brave men, but also resourceful since only men who possessed both of those qualities could fight their way of some of the ungodly messes that their officers were fool enough to lead them into. Whatever you think of Vidal, anyone familiar with the Battle of Iwo Jima would have to agree.
One took place close to the end of Flags of Our Fathers, when the actor portraying John Radley was going through is father’s effects after the old gentleman died. Decades before, John Radley’s father had been a corpsman and had participated in the famous flag raising atop Mt. Surabachi, immortalized by Joe Rosenthal’s photograph. Of the six men in that photo, three died on the island. As the son sorts through his late father’s belongings, he comes across a medal with a blue and white ribbon. Most people would not recognize that as the Navy Cross, just one step down from the Medal of Honor.
I’ve always thought that if you want to describe the battle for iwo Jima to a layperson in thirty-five words or less, I would do it as follows: “Any time twenty-six men are awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for capturing eight square miles of some of the world’s most godforsaken real estate, someone in the planning department has SERIOUSLY messed up. “
In the Japanese-language film, Letters from Iwo Jima, there’s a scene in which General Kurabayashi is on the shoreline asking one of his soldiers where he would run if he had encountered machine gun fire. He was doing this to most effectively position his unit’s machine guns. The thing that made me gasp and made my blood run cold was the fact that Kurabayashi apparently correctly guessed exactly where the American landings were going to take place.
What follows is not for the squeamish. There’s one other Iwo Jima story that I heard recounted in a documentary that I viewed while I was in grad school, thirty years ago. One of the speakers was a Marine who fought on Iwo Jima and he related that the one phrase of Japanese that men in his unit had learned was the words for “take off your shirt.” This was because a number of Japanese soldiers would feign surrender while concealing grenades or even satchel charges beneath their uniform blouses as a means of taking American s with them. Needless to say, the Marines got wise to this trick very quickly.
The old Marine relayed that one Japanese soldier stepped forward, still wearing his shirt and the Marines of his unit emptied their Magazines into them. That particular Japanese was carrying a satchel charge that scattered his body parts over a wide area. The Marine also related (he was there and I wasn’t) that a portion of the Japanese soldier’s torso flew through the air and landed on the knees of a Marine who was huddled behind cover so that the Marine was looking at the bare buttocks of his recently deceased enemy. The Marine telling the story related that the surprised Marine shouted, in a West Virginia accent, “My God, am I hit that bad?” After which, the ancient Marine related the entire platoon was useless for the next half hour, since they couldn’t stop laughing.
General Sherman was right. War is hell and Iwo Jima was one of Hell’s lowest circles.
I once read a comment from Gore Vidal that during World War II, the United States Marines had a reputation for not only being brave men, but also resourceful since only men who possessed both of those qualities could fight their way of some of the ungodly messes that their officers were fool enough to lead them into. Whatever you think of Vidal, anyone familiar with the Battle of Iwo Jima would have to agree.
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