James M. Redwine

Gavel Gamut

Passion Put To Use

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Gentle Reader, if you read last week’s Gavel Gamut you will recall we were considering Alexis de Tocqueville’s observations of America as a country based on law. De Tocqueville’s parents, Hervé and Louise de Tocqueville, had barely escaped the guillotine during the French Revolution (1789-1799). De Tocqueville was born in 1805 so he and his family had an intimate personal understanding of the dangers of a nation ruled by individual people, not laws. De Tocqueville studied law and served as a magistrate. He knew the value of French philosopher Montesquieu’s theory of a government formed with a separation of balanced and competing powers (legislative, executive and judicial). And he agreed with the morality of English philosopher John Locke’s (1632-1704) theories that governments should serve their people whom nature had endowed with the rights to life, liberty and property.

When people call for revolution they might wish to re-visit Locke, Montesquieu and de Tocqueville or one could refer to those more contemporary English philosophers, The Beatles. As John Lennon sang while backed by the cabal of Paul McCartney, George Harrison and Ringo Starr in “Revolution”:

♫ You say you want a revolution

    Well, you know

    We all want to change the world.

    ….

    But when you talk about destruction

    Don’t you know you can count me out.

    ….

    You say you got a real solution

    Well, you know

    We’d all love to see the plan. ♫

Unfortunately, Mark David Chapman did not get the message. But Lennon’s untimely loss is an example of how ideology and ignorance can get weaponized as opposed to de Tocqueville’s prescient observation about how the United States holds its “revolutions” every four years via the ballot box. Americans may get quite passionate about their politics, but as Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861) might philosophize, “It (should be) a passion put to use”, not destruction.  (How Do I Love Thee).

Empty Chairs At Empty Tables

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Echoes of Games Gone By

Last week’s column was fueled by my current fear that the upcoming football season will not come up and my fond memories of football seasons past that did. It is not just football but all team sports and communal activities such as church and school choirs that each of us is anxious about and yearning for. And that yearning is truly about personal relationships, not the games we played and the songs we sang. The symptoms of ’Ole 19 include social distancing from friends and family but, ironically, our current isolation evokes poignant memories of times we did get to share with people who once filled our lives and now do not.

Should you have read last week’s Gavel Gamut you probably saw the photograph of my high school football team. It was my wife Peg, you know, the one who actually does the work on Gavel Gamut (and most everything else at JPeg Osage Ranch), who suggested using the team photo that appears in my 1961 high school annual. I am glad she did as it was a virtual reunion for me and, I hope, for others such as Ron Reed who is the brother of my friend and teammate Jim Reed who appears next to me in the picture. Ron contacted me after last week’s article appeared. Gentle Reader, you may hear more from Ron in some future column. Anyway, there are several of my friends in the team photo who look young, strong and positive who went on to greater accomplishments such as Jim’s service in the Viet Nam War.

Another of our teammates was Bud Malone who, along with his twin brothers, Jerry and Gary, also saw combat in Viet Nam where Gary gave his life for his country on July 28, 1966. The team photograph caused me to concentrate on several other of our teammates who no longer can bring laughter and high jinks to my life and it evoked thoughts of two of my favorite songs from one of my favorite musicals.

In Les Misérables young revolutionaries are filled with idealism and bravery in their quest for social justice, kind of the elàn our football team had hoping for a championship season. Our team did achieve such success but some of the young revolutionaries in Le Miz paid with their lives in their losing cause.

In the song “Empty Chairs At Empty Tables” one of the young survivors, Marius, sings to his fallen comrades:

♬ ”Empty chairs at empty tables
Now my friends are dead and gone.
…
From the table in the corner
They could see a world reborn.
…
Oh, my friends, my friends, don’t ask me
What your sacrifice was for.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friends will sing no more.” ♬

However, in the song “Drink With Me” the young friends sound to me just the way I remember those footballers from 1960-61:

♬ “Drink with me to days gone by
Drink with me to the life that used to be
At the shrine of friendship never say die
Let the wine of friendship never run dry.
Here’s to you and here’s to me.” ♬

Well, here’s a thank you for those times we have played and sung in the past and to the fervent hope the next opponent to fall will soon be ’Ole 19.

 

The Mouse That Roars

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Gentle Reader, I ask you, “Is this fair?” Last week I barely escaped a medical catastrophe when I slipped on the ice while attempting to relocate a mouse from our house to a fiery fate. You may recall this whole thing was started by Peg who went ballistic when she found the mouse stuck in a trap. Apparently there is some universal law that mouse disposal is a husband’s job.

After I fell and received zero sympathy from Peg I sought input from my legions of supporters who read Gavel Gamut. Well, forget that! I have heard from nearly everyone who read last week’s column and they divide into three categories: (1) One person who accused me of cruelty to a mouse – even though it escaped as I almost died; (2) Three women who wondered how Peg could abide my whimpering; and, (3) an attorney from Orlando, Florida whose law firm specializes in representing mice. I’ll just relate his letter for you.

“Dear Judge Redwine,

As members of the Bar we are amazed a judge would violate the rights of our client whose only error in judgement was to seek warmth in your converted barn home. Come on! You should expect such visitors as you live right in the middle of their community.

Be that as it may, please be advised that should you not cease and desist from your attempts to harm our client, legal action will ensue.

Respectfully, of course,
Attorney Reyfert Hogart, Esq.

P.S. Peg has also contacted us with a question or two.”

 

 

Why A Blindfolded Justice?

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You may know that for about twenty years I have been serving on the faculty of the National Judicial College where judges teach other judges to be judges. The NJC has a fairly high-tech approach due to needing to reach judges from all across America and in many foreign countries. About six years ago the College asked me and five other faculty judges to conduct a seven-week Internet class. Each faculty member is assigned areas of concentration. Mine are Court and Case Management and Judicial Ethics. If you have followed Gavel Gamut recently you may recall the other faculty and I just completed this year’s course.

Now, this week you and I could address the vicissitudes of Hoosier football or the most salacious sexual harassment scandal. Perhaps we could delve into the mysteries of competing religious philosophies or even this week’s almost certain to occur mass shooting. But I know my audience, small though it may be, and I am confident you would prefer to reflect upon the issues I hammered into the student judges via the Internet. Let’s get right to it.

May we start with the simple question, “Why do we even have Courts?” This topic might feel a little broad and somewhat amorphous. So, why don’t we narrow our focus and discuss just one court, say the Posey Circuit Court; What is its purpose?

Posey County government has numerous elements but each part can be reasonably placed in three general categories: (1) Executive, such as the Board of County Commissioners, (2) Legislative, the County Council; and (3) the Judiciary, which consists of two courts, Superior and Circuit.

The Commissioners are hired by Posey County voters to plan and execute short, medium and long-term functions, such as roads, jails and courthouses. The County Council is charged with managing the funding of all county services. I do not mean to ignore the important duties of such officers as the Prosecuting Attorney, the Sheriff, the County Clerk, the Treasurer, Assessor, Auditor and many other public servants. However we are painting with a very broad brush here; general, three-branch democracy is our subject.

Officials who engage in executive or legislative functions are not only allowed to, they are encouraged to advocate for certain policies and positions. Should Posey County have zoning and, if so, what kind? Can Posey County afford to hire more workers, and, if so, how much should they be paid? In county government there are thousands of important and often competing interests and interest groups to be advocated for and against. These are proper functions of those two branches of Posey County government. Therefore, it is altogether fitting that politics are involved. Policies are advanced and the voters decide whose policies they prefer, Democracy at work.

But, what happens when competing interests reach a conflict or an impasse? Where do citizens look to get a problem resolved? Where is there a fair arbiter? And, most importantly, where can citizens go with confidence the arbiter is not biased for or against either side? Of course, it is the Court, HOPEFULLY. However, if the Judge is perceived to be beholding to particular groups, a political party for example, people may fear any decisions the Judge makes is based less on fact than favor.

Perhaps next week you can be regaled with an even more in depth exposition of what I taught the judges about judges who may be perceived as partisan instead of blind to the identities and attachments of the people who have to appear in front of the Judge in Court.

My Way Or The Highway

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After writing this column for twenty-seven years I can easily delude myself into believing that the reason no one writes in with complaints is because people agree with my opinions. Of course, I am fully aware a more likely reason is because no one reads them.

Be that as it may, should you have read “Gavel Gamut” recently you know the general topic has been the state of discourse and discussion in America. More to the point, why do so many people seem so angry with people whose only sin is to voice an opinion with which others disagree?

While even every day conversations among friends now sometimes turn into shouting matches and hurt feelings, the worst practitioners of “My way or the highway” are the cable television news anchors and the editorial writers of large newspapers. These pundits with public pulpits who are purveyors of pusillanimous perfidy often take it upon themselves to state as a fact that some statement by some public figure is false. Frequently no foundation is laid and no leeway is given for a statement being a mistake.

Usually the public figure who is maligned as mendacious, not misguided, has no opportunity to respond. An attack is launched and in our contemporary world of instant Internet access by millions of ill informed users the attack becomes the reality.

An electorate that forms its opinions on such marshy grounds might support government actions which are anathema to our nation’s welfare. Also, a steady diet of such diatribes could result in a backlash against the First Amendment. That would truly lead to a national disaster.

I know calling for self-policing by the media could morph into a call for government policing of the media. So what alternatives do we have? There are many, of course, but I would like to suggest we encourage the application of a few self-imposed procedures that might help make our current hostile environment more positive.

These procedures are neither secret nor complicated and have been slowly and carefully crafted over many years. Well, maybe next week.

Are We Still Separate?

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Although I wrote the first few Gavel Gamuts in 1990 the every-weekly column began in April 2005, about 700 articles ago. In light of our current political and cultural dissonance I thought it might be interesting to revisit the following thoughts from over a decade ago to assess what changes may have occurred. This Birthday Greeting to America was first published July 04, 2005. I hope those of you who read it then and those who are considering it for the first time will find it worthwhile in our on-going conversation of Separate versus Equal. Also, Peg and I are returning to Osage County, Oklahoma for this Fourth of July. Maybe we’ll find the bus station is now just a memory.

Happy Birthday to U.S.!

Let’s Have a Party and Invite Everyone!

The United States Supreme Court has occasionally succumbed to popular opinion then later attempted to atone for it. The Dred Scott (1857) and Plessy v. Ferguson (1892) cases come to mind as examples of institutionalized injustice with the partial remedy of Brown v. Board of Education (1954) being administered many years later.

In Dred Scott, the U.S. Supreme Court decided that American Negroes had no rights which the law was bound to protect as they were non-persons under the U.S. Constitution.

And in Plessy, the Court held that Mr. Plessy could not legally ride in a “whites only” railroad car. The Court declared that laws that merely create distinctions but not unequal treatment based on race were constitutional. SEPARATE BUT EQUAL was born.

Our original U.S. Constitution of 1787 disenfranchised women, and recognized only three-fifths of every Black and Native American person, and even that was only for census purposes. Our Indiana Constitution of 1852 discouraged Negro migration to our state in spite of Posey County Constitutional Convention Delegate, Robert Dale Owen’s, eloquent pleas for fair treatment for all.

Were these documents penned by evil men? I think not. They were the result of that omnipotent god of politics, compromise, which is often good, but sometimes is not. Should you have read this column recently you may recall that I strongly encourage compromise in court, in appropriate cases.

However, as one who grew up in a state where the compromise of the post Civil War judges and politicians led to the legal segregation of schools, restaurants, and public transportation, I can attest that some compromises simply foist the sins of the deal makers onto future generations.

When I was 6 years old, my 7 year old brother, Philip, and I made our first bus trip to our father’s family in southern Oklahoma.

We lived on the Osage Indian Nation in northeastern Oklahoma. It sounds exotic but our hometown, Pawhuska, looked a lot like any town in Posey County.

In 1950 our parents did not have to worry about sending their children off with strangers except to admonish us not to bother anyone and to always mind our elders.

When mom and dad took us to the MKT&O (Missouri, Kansas, Texas and Oklahoma) bus station it was hot that July day. Oklahoma in July is like southern Indiana in July, WITHOUT THE SHADE TREES!

My brother and I were thirsty so we raced to the two porcelain water fountains in the shot gun building that was about 40 feet from north to south and 10 feet from east to west.

Phil slid hard on the linoleum floor and beat me to the nearest fountain. And while I didn’t like losing the contest, since the other fountain was right next to the first one, I stepped to it.

“Jimmy, wait ‘til your brother is finished. James Marion! I said wait!” Dad, of course, said nothing. He didn’t need to; we knew that whatever mom said was the law.

“Mom, I’m thirsty. Why can’t I get a drink from this one?”

“Son, look at that sign. It says ‘colored’. Philip, quit just hanging on that fountain; let your brother up there.”

Of course, the next thing I wanted to do was use the restroom so I turned towards the four that were crammed into the space for one: “White Men”, “White Ladies”, “Colored Men”, and “Colored Women”.

After mom inspected us and slicked down my cowlick again, we got on the bus and I “took off a kiting” to the very back.

I beat Phil, but there was a man already sitting on the only bench seat. I really wanted to lie down on that seat but the man told me I had to go back up front. And as he was an adult, I followed his instructions.

Philip said, “You can’t sit back there. That’s for coloreds. That’s why that colored man said for you to go up front.”

That was the first time I noticed the man was different. That was, also, the point where the sadness in his eyes and restrained anger in his voice crept into my awareness.

As a friend of mine sometimes says, “No big difference, no big difference, big difference.”

And if all this seems as though it comes from a country far far away and long long ago, Posey County segregated its Black and White school children for almost 100 years after 600,000 men died in the Civil War. In fact, some of Mt. Vernon’s schools were not fully integrated until after Brown was decided in 1954.

And, whether we have learned from our history or are simply repeating it may depend upon whom we ask. Our Arab American, Muslim, Black, Native American, and Hispanic citizens, as well as several other “usual suspects”, may think the past is merely prologue.

Sometimes it helps for me to remember what this 4th of July thing is really about. It’s our country’s birthday party; maybe we should invite everyone.

There is nothing equal about separate.