James M. Redwine

America

The World’s Greatest Deliberative Body

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James Buchanan was the American president from 1857-1861 and is credited with that description of the United States Senate as a place for respectful, intelligent and impassioned debate. Such luminaries as Henry Clay, Daniel Webster and John Calhoun forged a senate known for its ability to get hard jobs done well. Those three served when the annual pay was $5,000. Today, Senator Rand Paul of Kentucky earns $174,000 per year as one of our one hundred senators.

Henry Clay represented Kentucky also. Clay was called the Great Compromiser due to his ability to get senate consensus on such volatile issues as war, then peace, with Great Britain in 1812-1814 and preservation of the union during ante-bellum days. Anthony Fauci is not a senator but he is our highest paid federal employee, $434,312 per year, as the Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases and as the chief medical advisor to the President of the United States. On July 20, 2021 Senator Paul and Dr. Fauci sat in the hallowed chamber where Henry Clay used to orate. Their exchange about the Wuhan China laboratory funds received from America was notably different from issues concerning war and slavery. It went something like this, “You are a liar!” and “You are another!” If the famous Ohio River brawler Mike Fink (c. 1770-c. 1823) had been involved, either Paul or Fauci might have been challenged to knock a red feather off the other’s shoulder. Or if two twelve-year-old boys during a school recess had been at odds one might have shoved the other and kicked dirt on him.

For several hundred thousand dollars in salaries and such seeming trivialities as a world pandemic involved, one might expect the World’s Greatest Deliberative Body to be, well, more deliberative. As reported over the cable news networks, Paul and Fauci were each claiming the other was not just incorrect on the arcane science known as gain-of-function research; the direct accusations were that both public servants were deliberately misleading their employers, i.e., you and me, Gentle Readers.

Further, Paul accused Fauci of perjury before Congress and Fauci pointed a bony finger at Paul and yelled that Paul was intentionally confusing the facts. I do not know about you but I have found this Wuhan gain-of-function thing confusing enough on its own. Our leaders need not obfuscate things further. Research into how science can manipulate the genetic code of the coronavirus in order to create new more deadly ones sounds ominous enough. And according to some reports, the mysterious Wuhan Laboratory “Bat Lady”, Shi Zhengle, has already combined the genes of two bat viruses with genes from a SARS related strain to make a new and even more deadly virus. I am thinking we all might want to step back a way. Supposedly the good reason for such research is to prepare us for some future deadly disease. Unfortunately, history teaches us the altruistic motivations do not always win out.

Paul got his medical degree from Duke University and Fauci got his from Cornell University. They should know better than to bandy about with such concepts as world plagues, present or future. I respectfully suggest we may want to use the resources of the World’s Greatest Deliberative Body for good and not expend our precious and limited resources on schoolboy shouting matches while Washington, D.C. burns.

The Sky’s Falling

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The national media push a highly addictive drug called paranoia. If one wants to get a reliable weather forecast or find out if a local kitten is not lost, local T.V. and regional newspapers are the best source. But if we are in need of a rush brought on by fear of catastrophe or schadenfreude, we flip the remote incessantly between CNN and FOX. CBS, NBC and ABC are available but boring. PBS can be interesting but is about as exciting as a library. No, if we want cataclysm or the satisfaction of seeing the rich and powerful fail, we must have cable. You might wonder about MSNBC but we can only take so much self-indulgent cynicism.

Gentle Reader, if you were awake, as I was at 4:00 a.m. staring at the peach-colored ceiling and wondering if I should use the restroom again or make a cup of coffee, you may have defaulted to cable T.V. That is where I saw the bobbleheads of CNN and FOX fervently seeking our advertising eyeballs by continually ratcheting up the partisan rhetoric. In between the machine gun fire of five minutes of adds were crammed five-minute exhortations camouflaged as news. Today, as usual, CNN was frothing about Donald Trump and FOX was exorcised about Cuba and communism, which FOX posited was one and the same.

CNN was giddy with the no-so-breaking story that former President Trump was unhappy about the last election, so much so that General Mark Milley, Trump’s choice for Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the military, was concerned about a peaceful transfer of power. FOX apparently either did not know who Milley was or did not care. FOX made no mention of this “bombshell” possibility. FOX was excitedly showing Florida Governor Ron DeSantis’ campaign coozies which attacked Anthony Fauci as FOX repeatedly rolled film of protests in Cuba. CNN did not take note of Cuba nor communism as its commentators were busy extolling the virtues of giving away trillions of dollars of borrowed taxpayer money.

What came through quite clearly, even as I dozed in and out while desperately seeking facts hidden among the rushes of opinion, was that CNN and FOX both believed that Chicken Little was correct. Each of their favorite evil acorns that fall upon us is a harbinger of the sky’s collapse upon America. We must eliminate all vestiges of Trumpism, and now DeSantisism too, along with President Biden and any federal help for poor people. Of course, we can do this by buying the products hawked among the invective spewed by the incredulous news anchors. Just as grade school teachers emphasizing that we children should obey the crossing guards, cable news claims it is our best source for gospel; critical analysis is just too much trouble and no fun besides. Most importantly, run out and buy more stuff before prices rise again.

Sour Grapes

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Painting by Shirley (Smith) Redwine

Aesop (620–564 BC.) was a slave in ancient Greece who told morality tales. Aesop’s fables generally used irony and experiences from everyday life to illustrate their lessons. Negro spirituals provided the same type of psychological relief for slaves in America. Each Fourth of July as we celebrate our country’s freedom from Great Britain in 1776 we honor the principles of democracy handed down to us by those brilliant and courageous ancient Greeks. But the Greeks from c. 2500 years ago and our Founders from 245 years ago were seeking a perfect society, not establishing one.

Athena was claimed to have sprung full-grown from the mind of Zeus and the United States is often claimed to have been born free and equal when we adopted our constitution. However, the goddess of justice and justice in America were ideals not reality. We know there is more work to do and we are doing it. Independence Day celebrations are a good time to reflect on the hard work remaining.

Each Fourth of July our family, probably much as your family Gentle Reader, get together to renew and reminisce. This year we are gathering at the Constantine Theater in Pawhuska, Oklahoma on July 16 and 17 during the wonderful Cavalcade Rodeo event. Shirley (Smith) Redwine has graced our family for well over half a century after she competed as a queen contestant and barrel racer in the Cavalcade. You can see her in the painting she created. You go Cowgirl!

Shirley’s husband and our eldest sibling, C.E. Redwine, is a wonderful professional musician and is coordinating a family jam session at the Constantine. We will have saxophone, ukulele and guitar players of various persuasions as well as singers and talkers. We will not pay you to attend nor will you have to pay to come visit with Pawhuska High School graduates from 1954, 1955, 1960 and 1961 on July 17th from 2-4 p.m.

This same group got together at the Constantine in 2011 when we showed the movie we made of my historical novel JUDGE LYNCH!. That horrific tale of injustice and its brand-new sequel Unanimous for Murder involve the legacy of slavery, segregation and integration in Posey County, Indiana and Osage County, Oklahoma. Those sad stories also involve an Aesop-type irony from 2011. It reminds me of the bittersweet years when we had Colored Folks and White People.

 

When Peg and I wrote JUDGE LYNCH! I borrowed, with his prior permission, the name of one of my childhood friends. Travis Finley is a sports legend, minister and former Pawhuska City Councilman. I used his name for a character in JUDGE LYNCH! When we returned to Pawhuska from New Harmony, Indiana in 2011 to show the movie we made we invited Travis and his wife Edna to attend the premier. As I was up on the stage of the Constantine explaining the book and movie, I looked out in the audience to find Travis and Edna; they were not visible. After my introduction I searched the downstairs of the theater then went to the balcony. There, just the two of them, sat Edna and Travis. I went up to them and said, “What are you doing up here?” They reminded me of what America has been and what it was meant to be when they answered, “When we were kids we weren’t allowed to sit downstairs so now we don’t want to. Besides, you can see better from up here.”

Happy birthday, America. Let’s keep perfecting!

Vladimir Lenin Meet COVID-19

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Margaret Thatcher said the problem with socialism is you eventually run out of other people’s money. Thatcher noted this truism long before ’Ole 19 brought about payments of trillions of dollars to people to not go to work. These trillions were not created as a gift from the gods but are borrowed from future generations. Such largesse with the earnings of contemporary small business owners and yet to be born taxpayers may cause warm fuzzy feelings but the concept of something for nothing is a zero-sum game. It can lead to an attitude of entitlement. Unlike teaching folks to fish, entitlement can instill a belief that fish will hook themselves and that if someone else has caught a fish they must share it. A moral society has an obligation to care for those who cannot care for themselves. But it is immoral to foster an attitude that the able bodied have no obligation to contribute. Even worse is the idea that those who do have means must not deserve them so it is okay to take their property without paying for it.

According to the office of the Attorney General for the State of California a large number of folks who frequent retail establishments such as CVS, Walgreens and Target in the San Francisco area simply take items off the shelves and leave without paying. This attitude of “what’s mine is mine and so is thine” may be infecting the American psyche beyond the land of free love and tent cities on the public streets. Evidence of this creeping social virus can also be found on our public roads and byways.

Some people apparently assume all the world is their trash can and dump their refuse on the rest of us. How difficult could it be to carry a trash bag in a vehicle and occasionally put the filled-up bag in one of the large containers that populate every public park or roadside rest stop? Once again it is the entitlement thing. The thought process may go something like this:

“I am going to shoplift some items or buy some beer or fast food and then dump the refuse on my fellow citizens. It is okay because I should not be expected to be responsible for my own mess. After all, I either didn’t pay for it to begin with or bought it with COVID-19 money I didn’t earn and may not need.”

Perhaps there is no direct connection to socialism, COVID-19 and people who are too lazy to properly dispose of their own trash, but my guess is it’s an apt tautology. Anyway, in a few more years of dolling out other peoples’ money our federal, state and local governments will run out of ink and maybe our society will then care for those who cannot care for themselves but will respect others who can work enough to require them to do so. Also, that newly engendered sense of self-worth might encourage them to pick up their own trash.

Distancing

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President Lincoln reportedly used to occasionally sit on the back steps of the White House and talk to old friends who might just drop by. President Truman used to play poker at his Key West, Florida White House with ordinary folks. President Jackson invited the hoi polloi to his inauguration and they came and trashed the White House. There was a time America’s leaders thought of Americans as equals, or at least not as persona non grata. Now there are fences and armed guards at the White House and the only time a president makes personal contact with Americans is to have a photo op. Democracy is now pretty much non-democratic.

Our politicians often ascribe the responsibility for this metamorphosis to need for security, that is, fear of contact with us. I suggest it has more to do with their desire to just pick up their tax payor funded paychecks while being left alone. Kind of like getting COVID-19 checks not to work. Anyway, my experience in working for the public has been that it has not been a concern for my security or anyone else’s that has brought about such distance between public servants and the public. But it comes more from a realization that there simply is very little difference between those who control the government and those who are controlled by it, and the controllers are afraid that will be found out. At least that is true with the judicial branch and the legal system. I invite you, Gentle Reader, to return with me to at least one incident from those “thrilling days of yesteryear” to help me illustrate my concerns about the loss of direct connection to our office holders.

When the State of Indiana used justices of the peace to process most minor legal matters such as driving offenses and small civil claims, the “courts” were often held in the homes or store fronts owned by the justices. One would appear before some non-formally trained person who would dispense justice in a relaxed atmosphere and at little cost. Then we “improved” the system by requiring legally educated and licensed judges and publicly financed court facilities. Everything became more complex, costlier and more distant.

In Posey County, Indiana the County Court that replaced the Justice of the Peace system in 1975 was jammed into a portion of the 1927 Memorial Coliseum Building. The original coliseum was built as a community center. It had a swimming pool, a gymnasium, a stage for shows and a pool table. The new County Court, including the judge’s chamber, took up three small rooms next to where the pool table was. And another feature was the closet in the approximately 20-foot by 30-foot courtroom where the Daughters of the American Revolution ladies kept their regalia to be used in their meetings that also were held in the courtroom.

When I was the Chief Deputy Prosecuting Attorney for Posey County, 1976-1978, I tried six-person jury trials in that courtroom. As we had no separate jury room we would try a case then leave the jury in the courtroom alone to deliberate on their verdict. Everyone in the courtroom could reach out and almost touch everyone else. Of course, there was little pretense of confidentiality. I know it sounds bizarre but it worked okay and no one, including the judge and the attorneys, could arrogate themselves into special status. Please let me tell you about one of my favorite cases from that halcyon time.

I was a little younger then and one of the cases I prosecuted involved a misdemeanor charge against a Billy ______ who was about my age. Billy represented himself in the jury trial. After Billy and I traded accusations and insults during final arguments the judge gave the case to the jury then ordered the courtroom cleared except for the jury. Billy and I stepped out to the adjoining room where both a soft-drink machine and the pool table were located.

As we attempted to ignore one another, Billy turned to me and said, “Hey, Jim, do you play pool?” As I grew up in Pawhuska, Oklahoma at a time when the only thing other than the ball field was the pool hall, of course I played pool.

“Yeah, Billy, I play pool and I can beat you at that too. By the way, I thought you did okay in court, but be prepared for the gavel to fall.” I was much more sure of myself then.

“Jim, do you want to put anything on the pool game?”

“No, Billy, that would be illegal; go ahead and break.” I did not mention that a portion of my tuition at Oklahoma State University came from non-legal lucre.

Well, we played as the jury was busy deciding they didn’t care if I thought Billy was a menace to society; they sided with Billy. Since that trial Billy and I have had several contacts of the legal variety and you may note Billy is still playing pool but now my pool table is in my barn.

In my opinion, America could use a reprise of some of that by-gone legal system where the people who are processed and those who do the processing are not separated by layers of convolution. As Eva Peron might say, ♫ I’ll keep my promise, don’t keep your distance.” ♫

The Cure for Black Robe Fever

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In response to both the states of Indiana and Oklahoma’s CLE requirements I am currently engaged in a forty-hour online Mediation course presented by the National Judicial College in Reno, Nevada. I may subject you, Gentle Reader, to the exciting content of this course before long. Hey, why should I have all the fun alone. But for this week I thought you might prefer another of those true courtroom dramas such as the one presented in last week’s column about my service as a prosecuting attorney that helped keep me from falling too deeply into the Black Robe Syndrome. The case that today’s column is about occurred about 25 years ago in front of me in the Posey County, Indiana Circuit Court. To my chagrin, I confess it is all too true and was first confessed to by me in a Gavel Gamut article on August 07, 2006 and appears in the book Gavel Gamut Greetings from JPeg Ranch.

The whole embarrassing courtroom episode reminded me of Dorothy’s serendipitous traipse along the Yellow Brick Road in the land of Oz with the cowardly Lion, the Scarecrow and the Tin Man in search of a brain for the Scarecrow, courage for the Lion, a heart for the Tin Man and the Wizard of Oz for Dorothy. When the mighty Wizard of Oz is finally seen for what he really is by Dorothy his façade of omnipotence gets shattered.

It is probably a good thing that we sometimes have false images of our leaders.  I remember my feelings of dismay when I was told by one of my grade school teachers that the painting of George Washington that hung in our classroom and in which The Father of Our Country looked so stern and powerful portrayed General Washington with his lips tightly pursed because he had ill-fitting false teeth.

And I will not disclose at what advanced age I still clung to Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.  I might have been slow to catch on but I was happier than my peers.

We may be wrong, but most humans believe in pomp and circumstance and the regalia of office.  Police officers have badges, soldiers have uniforms and presidents have Air Force One.  We do not need to know about what happens behind the scenes.

Then there are judges.  Judges have courthouses, high benches, gavels and those flowing black robes. Hey, it’s kind’a cool. And, of course, some judges have spouses who are not so easily impressed by all the accoutrements since they see their judges asleep on the couch in dingy tee shirts and torn Levi’s.

But what brings the old “feet of clay” sharply into focus are those unexpected events that occur in court where some citizen decides to act like this is a democracy and he or she is an American.

While there are many instances where I have been made to realize that the trappings were for the office and not for me personally, my wife Peg’s favorite story involved a case from about ten years ago where I was imparting great judicial wisdom and admonitions to a young woman who had been found guilty of stealing.

As I was regaling the full courtroom with the majesty of the law and how it fell so heavily on this poor young miscreant, all of a sudden the huge double doors in the back of the courtroom burst open and a large woman with her hair in curlers wearing a housecoat and bunny slippers charged up towards my bench. She was the young woman’s mother and she was not amused and certainly not impressed by my lecture to her daughter.

The lady stopped just behind the bar that separates the hoi polloi from those who are paid to serve them. She stood to her full height and said very loudly:

                     “If you weren’t wearing that long black dress, I’d come up there and slap your face!”

Then she turned and marched slowly and grandly out the back of the courtroom giving me what for the whole time.  The packed courtroom was split between amazement and amusement.

As for me, I knew how the old Wizard of Oz felt.