By Jeffrey C. Martin
Toddling along–the middle brother JEFF
My earliest memories are of falling down. While running around a neighbor’s house with older kids my 3 year old forehead collided with their their cement front steps . In my own house I fell down the basement stairs. And while examining a map from atop a neighbor kid’s desk I again lost my footing. I infer from this that I was on the loose at an early age, that the idea of childproofing a toddler’s environment had not yet come into its own in 1956-58, and that I was more fearless than graceful.
In light of the worries parents face today and have faced since the mid-60s or so, it seems that my peers and I were one of the last generations to know wide freedom of movement without adult overseers. We roamed near and far on bikes, visited unknown houses over a mile away for “Trick or Treat”, and spent far more time playing outside than doing any homework or supervised activity.
We were free. We were happy. So long as we survived, we thrived. We picked up immunities, as well as germs and stitches , from this unfettered rush into life. It is , to my 60 year old mind, its how life as a child should be–except if you are one of my grandkids -who require constant protection.
my mom’s family
my mother is 87 years old . she lives in her own house in memphis. Last year we encouraged her to move to a senior living center. She did so but after 2 months concluded she was not ready to live with all those old people . NOR she did not like the group activities planned for the residents, so she moved back to her townhouse, She is active at her church.AND LUNCHES WITH FRIENDSAFTER CHURCH. she usually visits me and my fCREW IN D VA
SHESgrew up poor on a small
farm( only 2 1/2 acresnear Rushville Ohio. They had no indoor plumbing; heated the housIntroducing Longreads’ Best of WordPress
http://en.blog.wordpress.com/2014/06/05/introducing-longreads-best-of-wordpress/e with a coal stove; took sponge baths; her mother set an example of self sacrifice always saying she preferred the normally undesirable parts of the chicken she cooked –eg neck grandma lived alone on that farm for 20 years; and loved us dearly . Occasionally she’d get a chore out of me:“Would you weed the walk to the well , Jeff?” She suffered greatly when the youngest of her three children—Mary—died at age 35 of breast cancer, the disease which later took her life. She kept her hair pinned up but at night always brushed it and I always thought it very long and beautiful.
My grandfather Albert Hoisington worked hard on their 2 and ½ acre farm, growing corn, strawberries, rhubarb and keeping a few animals .I remember his chewing tobacco and how rich it smelled. I remember picking strawberries with him; then sitting out with him by the road to sell them to passing cars. I remember how he cut the corn off the cob due to his lack of adequate teeth. And I remember how very sad I was –and my whole family, particularly Mom, was —when he died of a heart attack in 1961 at age 66.
I believe Grandpa Hoisington was a World War I veteran. (He never talked about it but there was a plaque on the wall and e railroad. He and my Grandma had met when both lived in West Virginia. They were older than the typical couple when they married —approaching 30.
Both sides of my mother’s family descended from the English and immigrated to America in the 1600s. When my mom was little she had two grandmothers living at the house—little Grandma ( her dad’s mom) who smoked a corn cob pipe; and big Grandma (her mom’s mom).
When I stayed with my maternal grandparents in the winter I loved putting my cold feet on the coal stove while watching television. It took a few minutes until your socks heated up so much you had to take your feet off the stove. A few minutes later I would repeat this sequence. it made for a relaxing time until grandma scooted me off to bed upstairs. I did not enjoy walking to the outhouse at night (which was referred to as “visiting Mrs. Jones”) or peeing in a chamberpot. Their house had very narrow stairs leading to two upstairs bedrooms—the room I stayed in had a flowered wallpaper and I often fell asleep trying to count or calculate the flowers on the walls and ceiling of the irregularly shaped room.
It was standard practice in our family that family vacations usually amounted to staying with relatives. usually we were shipped off one at a time–sometimes two of us would go together You learn a great deal about a cousin or grand parent or aunt if you spend the night at their house .It is akin to viewing a species in its natural habitat instead of a zoo cage. You soon learned which relatives you wanted to stay with and which ones you would prefer to visit only briefly.For example,overnight with my paternal grandma, Orpha, was a little scary because she had a black long-haired Chihuahua who would try to nip your hands .And grandma herself could be formidable-inquiring about grades or seeking information on other achievements. She was a red head–who by the end of her life had had 3 husbands, raised four kids(2 sets of twins), held a good job with the federal government for 40 years , and served as one of the first woman elders in her Presbyterian church. She taught me to love scrabble and to play it competitively.
Aunt Mary–my mom’s sister who was 10 years younger than my mom was my favorite relative. she was very funny , and it was at her house that I read popular magazines and novels such as jACQUELINE SUZANNE’s “the valley of the dolls”. I loved how she would poke fun at dad’s driving Dad had a disturbing practice of letting his vision wander over the panoramic vista, Turning his head around 150 degrees instead of FOCUSING on the road ahead. MARY always said she felt safer riding with her husband Wayne going 100 miles an hour than Bob at 30mph
She taught me about popular music of the day-.-Engelbert Humperdinck was her favorite singer. Mary lived in a tiny pink rambler in Lancaster Ohio.Her neighbor directly across the street was a man named Bob Schaefer who had once asked my mom to marry him (long before she met my dad). Mom had turned Bob schaefer down but it was a sensitive issue we boys could exploit if necessary. I WOULD CALL FOR A VOTE ON MOM’S DECISION LL ;s dad,Grandpa martin was very proud of his grandsons and attended every graduation. He was also a clothes horse and loved to look good in his suits.
When Grandpa was in his 70’s, my wife undertook to do a family tree following the birth of our first child. No one knew anything about Grandpa’s past. At that time he opened up about his history to my dad. He wrote a letter in which he revealed for the first time that he was not born in the United States. He had been born around 1903 in a part of what was then Austria-Hungary and now was part of Rumania. He was borne in Ploesti but moved early on to Transylvania. His mother died when he was young, and apparently his father came to America to find work. Grandpa said his family in the old country were serfs on a baron’s estate—which he described as being like sharecroppers here. His stepmother was quite cruel, and so at a very early age, he went to America himself accompanied by a paid adult chaperone. He arrived in New York at age eight . Though so young, grandpa did not go to school, he began to work. His first job was selling apples and newspapers on the trhttps://wordpress.com/post/grumplesixty.wordpress.com/318ain. He learned English and never spoke with an accent. He was not proud of his history, and had kept it from his wives and children 90% of his life. He had no formal education but was always up on current events and was a very good conversationalist. As a young man,he had nearly died after falling off a tall ladder he was using to paint a building, He was disabled for several years. Then , during his last working years he managed a bowling alley in Columbus, a wonderful job for a grandpa. He liked to smoke cigars and suffered from a painful neuralgia in his face until he had a nerve surgically severed. Grandpa is the reason I find the current anti-immigration fever in this country so disturbing.
Grandma Orpha had two husbands besides Grandpa. One lasted only a year or two and escapes memory , and the third, Charles Higgins, was a younger man who worked on the railroad and was quite eccentric. When we visited, he didn’t come out of the back room, but we would go back to play cards with him. I believe my grandmother never divorced him, but they did separate. The reason for the absence of divorce was to retain his railroad pension if she outlived him. We had a big party to celebrate her 90th birthday, and she passed away a few years later , having outlived 3 of her 4 kids but not Mr. Higgins. I flew to Columbus to see her during her last illness. She was quite frail but confident of her destination and not afraid of death .
She loved her grandchildren but could be quite demanding. When my brother Brad and I were about 4 and 2, respectively, she thought we were being wild, so she told us that if we didn’t behave, she would leave us. She walked out the door and drove around the block. When she returned, Brad was on the telephone . He had asked the operator to put him through to our other grandmother—he knew her rural exchange number—who lived about 30 miles away. Brad was explaining to Grandma Hoisington how we had been left by Grandma Martin as the latter walked back in. Mortified, Grandma Martin took the phone to reassure my other grandmother. years later, when it became time to pick a first babysitter for sarah, we picked her.
Grandma Martin loved to play games.When I was about 8, we were having a Scrabble game. I asked her if “crux” was a good word and then played it on the triple word score. This was my first victory against her, and we played close games for the next 40 years.
The Cambridge Idyll
From age three to age 11 ( around 1956-64) I lived in Cambridge Ohio, population about 14,000. My family seldom ate out—if we begged to go to Dairy Queen while driving home after a visit to family friends my dad would usually say “ we got ice cream at home.” When we did dine out my favorite place was the “Coney Island” restaurant and my favorite order there was a “hot dog—ketchup only .”
My family’s social life was largely visiting other families where the dad worked with my dad at the RCA television manufacturing plant . We also frequently visited family –like my grandparents–who lived about 60 miles away.
My brother Brad , two years and three grades ahead of me, was a better baseball player than I. We often played “Willie Mays” by throwing fly balls into the poplar trees and trying to make the catch off each other’s throws. My younger Brother Brian was three years younger and not as much of a competitor of mine in sports at this time.
We must have had many ear or throat infections because Brad and I were roommates in the hospital and had our tonsils removed more or less simultaneously. I recall getting a baseball mitt for being a good patient—it was a model signed by Orlando Cepeda. A friend of mine , upon seeing my glove, claimed to be related to Cepeda. I learned much later this was an implausible lie. It never occurred to me to ask followup questions regarding how this kid with the Germanic family name ( Mark Neuen swander) was related to the Puerto Rican Cepeda.
Though I played Little League, I must have been bad. I often played right field—the loser position in Little League. One time I missed a ball because I was combing my hair. At least I had the sense to be embarrassed by the combing incident. My vanity knew few bounds. My Aunt Mary once took me to the circus and for weeks thereafter I imitated the trapeze artist by wearing tight white pants and no shirt. Sounds a bit gay, doesn’t it? It was not . That was a simpler time — when a boy’s vanity and flamboyance did not imply anything else.. today i expect that boy would be put in therapy to discover his true self.
My dad would compete with us at times—from wrestling to high jump to broad jump to dashes to basketball to arm wrestling. Once, after watching the Olympics on television my dad raced us three boys down the road. An alarmed neighbor lady saw us and thought our house must be on fire. We had to stop the race to calm her. Sometimes my roughhousing with my dad would get a bit out of hand.. 0ne time we were wrestling and be pinned by head to the floor by pushing his knee and full weight (about 220 ) on to my temple. That hurt and scared me .. Dad had a temper and a competitive spirit WHENEVER I FELT LIKE I MIGHT BEAT HIM IN ARM WRESTLING, HE WOULD SAY-“GET A REPUTATION FIRST…..emts , my brothers, nor I would “die before I wake” and that if we did , our souls would be taken by God. I believed in the power of invocations—that the mere saying of the words assured our safety through the night. I always made sure I said everyone’s name before I went to sleep.
When I was about 7 , something upset me enough to cause me to “run away” from home. I walked down my street to a house with a barn—I went in the BARN to rest a while. I fell asleep. After several hours, I woke and realized no one knew I had run away. I had not been missed. It was growing dark. So I walked home, disappointed.
America in the late 50s early 60s was a different place than it is now. I could run away and not be noticed! Going home and telling your parents you had run away diminishes some of the emotional impact on them that was the very point of the whole thing. This was well before milk cartoons scared kids thinking of flight.
I delivered a paper route of out of town papers (such as the Cleveland Plain Dealer) that only a few people in our neighborhood took. No older kid wanted my unprofitable route—you might ride your bike 3 or 4 miles for 10 papers. Brad had a more normal paper route.
I enjoyed performing. I had a Jerry Mahoney dummy I had received for Christmas when I was in first grade, but I never really learned to throw my voice, enunciate with my lips closed or tell jokes. That did not deter me. Most of my material came from Boys’ Life magazine.
Once, while wearing my cub scout uniform, I did recite a poem at a downtown baseball game . The poem was about the flag and it was carried on the local radio. All I recall about the poem is “the white is for purity.”
My grade school principal –Mr. Jefferson –moonlighted as a security guard at local ball games. I recall he once came up to us at a ballgame to tell us I had scored quite high on an IQ test. That was news to us all but it did not change anything.
I must have been interested in politics early. I recall the election of Kennedy , though my parents and Ohio had gone for Nixon. I had read Kennedy’s “Profiles in Courage”. After the assassination I received an album of Kennedy’s speeches, which I often played. I loved his speeches. I also recall the crowds at school when they distributed the oral polio vaccine to us kids.
The broader issues facing America in the early 60s , such as racism and the space race , were present in my life. I knew it was crazy and wrong when a neighbor called my mom to complain that a black classmate of mine had come over to my house after school. The neighbor had seen us playing basketball. I ALSO remember attending a parade in 1962to honor the hero of the US Space program, John Glenn, who had been born in Cambridge and had grown up in nearby New Concord.
My dad was the first person on either side of my family to go beyond high school. In my neighborhood I was proud of my family but I did not want my parents visiting my school. My parents came to school once when I was in second grade . I refused to sit with them at lunch. I guess I thought I was too cool to have parents.
I was a picky eater. My dad sometimes would make me sit at the table for hours until I cleaned my plate but my Mom would eventually release me. Over time she started to make me a special separate dinner, often a hot dog.
My family had some peculiar habits. Instead of paper napkins we wiped off with a wash cloth. Once my brother Brad had a friend over for supper. He had finished eating by the time my dad got around to saying : “Boys, clean your plates.” He picked up the wash cloth and began cleaning his plate. I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at that.
I was in the Fifth grade when this world was suddenly taken from me. We had to move. I hated the idea.
The RCA television factory where my father worked was being shut down. I now know that all domestic manufacture of television sets was gradually being eliminated to reduce labor costs. It was one of the early manifestations of economic globalization. After a period of uncertainty my parents announced we were moving to Rochester, New York. My father had secured a job at General Dynamics.
ROCHESTER, NEW YORK
As we will see my fear of moving to upstate New York was more than justified.
IT was just one year, but it seemed much longer. In 1966-67 we lived in Rochester, New York, where I attended sixth grade. Somehow the kids there seemed older and less innocent than I had known in Cambridge. There was a ninth grade girl who wanted to make out with me;that was a new experience. AND there was a high school kid who took me on a ride on his motorcycle into the woods and then showed too much interest in my body. I RAN HOME.
Moreover it was during this period that I was introduced to my first experience of premature death in my family. One February evening I came into the house and saw something I had never seen before: my Dad was on the phone weeping. I soon learned that his younger brother Harold had just died under tragic circumstances. Harold had been depressed and so had checked himself into a hospital. There they administered electroshock therapy. In the aftermath they left him alone and he aspirated his own vomit.HAROLD was 35 years old ,an Air Force veteran, AND engaged to be married.
On the 600 mile drive home from the funeral, we encountered the big blizzard of 1967. The snow was piling up and the visibility was 0. My Dad couldn’t see, but by Gosh he could still drive. My Mom turned around to say: “Boys, prepare to die.” I think Mom meant for us to pray, but her formulation freaked us out. Somehow we got home safely.
The year in New york also was tough on Brian, who got pneumonia. WHEN Brian was well, he was my favorite target for practical jokes.Once I was taking a bath in our only bathroom, to get ready for a square dance at school. Brian wanted in but I ignored his knocks and pleas . Then , when it sounded like he was about to explode, I slid under the water, Brian rushed in, saw me and screamed. I laughed and went off to the dance.
So for most of us, we were not unhappy when dad informed us he was returning to RCA, this time in MEMPHIS.
walking in memphis
Memphis , Tennessee is one of the most evocative places in the world.
The city of Elvis, the epicenter of the Cotton business, the death place of Martin Luther King. The city of the birth of the Blues, W.C. Handy, Beale Street, Sun Records, Issac Hayes, Charlie Rich, the Peabody Hotel, great pork barbeque, large economic disparities, racial tensions, and Southern hospitality. Memphis was the site of the first significant Union victory in the Civil War, in the Naval Battle of Memphis in 1862. It was also the home of Nathan Bedford Forest, a daring and able Confederate general who sought to recapture the City . The history of Memphis is the story of Tom Lee, a black man who in 1925, though he could not swim, braved the Mississippi River currents in a rowboat to save the passengers on a sinking steamer.
But when I moved there at the beginning of Junior High School Memphis was simply a new and somewhat more congenial place to go about my business of developing my identity. It was a time when issues of personal preference—smoking; drugs; drinking; length of hair—were not always distinct from political choices—integration and economic opportunity for blacks; support for and opposition to the Vietnam War , reaction to the KentState killings, and so forth.
Political and personal choices often seemed to define who your friends were— whom you would hang with and what you would do .
On April 4 , 1968 I experienced a “Forrest Gump” or Chauncey Gardner moment. Forrest and Chauncey were always around when historically significant events occurred. On April 4 I was in seventh grade and recall being home with only my younger brother that evening. I used to watch the television while laying on the floor and was doing so that night. I heard how Martin Luther King had just been shot and killed downtown and how rioting had begun—in Memphis and elsewhere. It was a frightening time.
I wish I could say that I recognized the enormous historic significance of Dr. King at the time. I did not. My parents had tended to agree with local officials that Dr. King had no business intervening in a strike by sanitation workers in Memphis. I had no different view. But as the night went on and as the family gathered back home we resolved to continue about our business despite the risk. That week notwithstanding the ongoing riots we went to a revival at our church—Lindsey Presbyterian. Lindsey was United Presbyterian—the denomination that stayed Presbyterian notwithstanding the advent of black members after the Civil War. The larger Memphis Presbyterian churches were of the USA type—which were founded I believe to reject such integration . However, lest we appear to think too highly of ourselves, I do recall that our church had a special pew that had once been the pew of Nathan Bedford Forest, great Cavalry leader of the Confederacy who said his secret was to get there “furstest with the mostest .” In addition to talking funny and riding fast, Forest was also the first Imperial Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan.
I had more pedestrian concerns as a seventh grader. My mother arranged babysitting jobs for me in the neighborhood. There was a family of four kids where the youngest kept trying to burn down the house; there was also a neighbor with an infant—which scared me much more than the arsonist. What mother would leave an infant with a clueless seventh grade boy? I could only put up with my mother getting me these baby sitting jobs for a short while. I got a part time job working at a dry cleaners out of self defense.
I worked the counter, taking in cleaning, stapling the tags to the clothes, taking in cash, making change, giving people their clean clothes. The cleaners was owned by my friend’s dad. I worked after school. It was not bad. Much better than babysitting.
From fall 1967 through 1972 I attended White Station Junior High and High School. It was quite a large public school, with a small black population and a larger Jewish one. Over 90% of the kids went on to college. I considered it my job to get along with everyone, as opposed to only certain groups or cliques. I was something of a high school politician. I recall several bar mitzvahs; hanging out with a black friend of mine, even once attending a rally at which Angela Davis spoke. My parents warned me t
In my junior year, I became President of the Key Club—the leading service organization in my high school. My achievements as president included building small parks with playground equipment in poor neighborhoods; forming a Key Club at Melrose High, a predominantly black school, and selling Christmas trees for charity. I also tutored a boy who was in grade school across town.
Unlike most of my contemporaries in this country, and some of my friends, I never smoked pot or did any drugs. I did not want to lose myself that way.
I also regularly attended the weekly dinner meetings of the adult sponsor of Key Club—the Kiwanis. They had good salads.
My high school required all boys to take ROTC. I was a dreadful cadet. I remember marching around with an inoperable M-1 rifle. I did not get along with the instructor, a sergeant who had cut off the fingers of his right hand in an accident.
Late in my junior year I was nominated to be vice president of student council but the principal refused to let me run because he thought I would be moving away to Indiana, as the Memphis RCA plant had been shut down and my father transferred to Bloomington. Instead I persuaded my parents to let me stay in Memphis with family friends and attended White Station by actually paying tuition to attend public school. I also ran the successful campaign of the guy nominated to take my place.
In my senior year, I also received a special award — the Sandy Nininger award—at a high school assembly. This was for service to others. Sandy was the first American to receive the Medal of Honor , posthumously , in World War II. Among other things, he had fallen on a grenade for his buddies. I was honored by the award and happy to endure the barbs from friends throwing their textbooks down in the hall and yelling –“get it Sandy”.
Shortly thereafter, I graduated from White Station with fairly undistinguished marks (my rank was 125 out of a class of 545). But I was delighted when my classmates voted me “Best All Around” boy in the Senior class. I had scaled the social hierarchy of high school. That seemed important at the time. But I barely keep in touch with a only a few people from High School., through facebook
During the summers following eleventh and twelfth grades I had jobs at the RCA television factory in Bloomington. Those jobs convinced me I wanted to do something less tiring and more cerebral for a career so I resolved to do well in college.
At the factory I was a member of the IBEW Union, which got me overtime. I used to tell dad when he drove us home from work that we unionists were about to go on strike but I couldn’t PROVIDE DEAILS about it as he was a management lackey. It was our little joke.
. Later –Dad hated work –I think some young upstarts were put above him. Also whenever I hear Jack Welch praised as a business leader worth emulating , I think of how he closed down domestic manufacture and assembly of televisions . My Dad hated “Neutron Jack” who got rich and famous by getting rid of people’s jobs by shipping them overseas.
Selective Service Wants Me But Nixon Says “ No Thanks”
In 1972 I participated with others born in 1953 in the Selective Service Lottery. Despite the Paris peace talks, the Viet Nam War would go on three more years, and student deferments were no longer given. I received a low number –in the 30’s . I thought about claiming Conscientious Objector Status but that did not feel right. I received notice to take the physical in Indianapolis. I went. I passed. It looked like I might be inducted. But Nixon was trying to wind things down and announced no one born in 1953 would be drafted. So I was able to go to college .
My active social life ended abruptly at graduation from high school. I moved to Bloomington and started college among the 35.000 students there . I knew no one. And I was living at home. The piper was being paid. MY ATTACHMENT TO HIGH SCHOOL LED TO LONELINESS IN TRANSITIONING TO COLLEGE
Indiana University
Although I was painfully lonely at first, I still liked college. I liked the symbolic logic classes, intramural sports, the ability to “test out “ of several courses and receive credit, the basketball games coached by Bob Knight in his early years –before he went totally nuts. I rode my bike the 5 miles to campus. That first semester coincided with the 1972 presidential election. Contrary to my parents, I was for McGovern. Though I had very little, I even gave his campaign some money. The result was to put me on liberal mailing lists for years.
I worked part time at Sears, in the lighting and housewares department. I received no relevant training and many customers asked questions about wiring. en I tired of saying “ Sorry, I don’t know,” I began to offer some off the cuff answers. I hope no one burned their house down by following my advice.
In-state tuition at Indiana was only $325 per semester. I talked my dad into letting me move into a dorm in the second semester. I began to meet people and feel more engaged. I enjoyed getting pizza with my roommate and liked walking THE BEAUTIFUL CAMPUS to classes . I brought my laundry home on weekends. I started to recognize that I had academic inclinations and decided initially to try for a triple major (political science; Russian ; and philosophy). I ended up dropping the Russian major but graduating in only 3 years. I loved philosophy but saw that teaching jobs in that area would be scarce AND POORLY PAID
My political science major was easy. I got a bunch of credit for a thesis on the way the presidential nominating process was being changed by Democrats. This thesis took me to the Democrats’ midterm convention in Kansas City in 1974, where I saw politicians (including Bill Clinton and Mo Udall . a[J1] I recall hanging around media types in abundance, including David Brody, whom I admired greatly.. A professor went with me. The university paid for the trip and eventually my thesis won a cash prize named after William Jennings Bryan for the best “honors” thesis.
Summer Jobs
After my freshman year at IU I got a summer job in Washington D.C. Though I had no experience with computers, THE DEPT OF AGRICULTURE’S RURAL ELECTRIFICATION ADMINISTRATION offered me a job as a COBOL programmer because I had done well on the civil service test. I think I was a GS-3.
I never really caught on to COBOL—with its if-then structures, go to loops, and so forth but I got a little better over the summer. IT WAS THE ERA OF COMPUTER PUNCH CARDS AND AFTER SEVERAL ATTEMPTS I GOT SOME PROGRAMS TO WORK AND PRODUCE CORRECT OUTPUTS Mostly I just liked being in Washington that summer. The town and I were mesmerized by the Senate Watergate hearings.EACH DAY AFTER WORK I WOULD join various summer interns in the lounge of the GW dorm o watch the hearing.
Living on my own , I learned SOME hard lessons about personal budgeting—there were times near the end of a pay period when I lived on peanut butter and bread. I recall once my brother Brad visited me overnight in mY non-airconditioned dorm room that summer . He was so warm the first night he bought me a fan.
The summer after my second year at IU I lived in Memphis and worked as Brad’s campaign manager for the State legislature. This requires a short detour into Brad’s life.
After a couple years at Memphis State Brad was elected President of the Student Body. In 1972 he decided to run for the Tennessee legislature representing the district that included the University. He ran a door to door campaign as a Republican and eked out a victory over the incumbent Democrat. That was the year of Nixon’s landslide over McGovern .
With his election in 1972 the same week as his 21stst birthday, Brad was the youngest person ever elected in the state.
When he got to Nashville, he was an excellent legislator. But he disliked the actions of a fellow incumbent Republican Tag Weldon, –who represented the Memphis district our family had lived in. Brad determined to move into Tag’s district and challenge Tag in the primary. It was incumbent versus incumbent. Tag termed Brad a “carpetbagger.”Brad hired me as his campaign manager I involved many friends . It was very retail politics—yard signs; flyers; door to door campaigning; endorsements. We had Henry Loeb on our side, a big strapping and well known former Memphis mayor(he was mayor when M.L King Jr was killed]. Henry often preceded Brad on his walks around the district. The ladies answering their doors would see the mayor and be flustered-. He would ask, “is your mother home?” He flattered the ladies and introduced Brad to an invariably warm welcome. We won a huge victory over Weldon, nearly 70 % of the vote. Brad served a total of five terms before retiring from the legislature thing he did while in the legislature was help a struggling Memphis company deal with some onerous state tax laws. That company was Federal Express., , which has been a boon to Memphis.
Unexpectedly,on a Basketball Court, I take a Fall
On Saturday night January 17, 1975 my life changed. I was back on campus ready to begin classes for my final semester. My roommate and I saw two girls shooting baskets outside. We went to join them. The cute little brunette with the excellent set shot and I formed one team. We won. Her name was Diane. She was wearing a navy blue zip up sweatshirt. We later that night went to a movie, Serpico, playing on campus. We ran a foot race that night on the way back to the dorms. It was close but I won. I neglected to get her phone number.I mistakenly assumed because I knew what dorm she lived in –and it was just across the street from mine—that I would just see her. I did not. INDIANA UNIVERSITY is a big place if you are looking for a cute brunette wearing a navy hoodie possessing a good set shot. After several inquiries over a couple days I got her number and called her. She had assumed I was not going to call since it took me so long.
We went to a local Chinese restaurant and began to get to know each other. She says she loved how I poured her tea.
On Valentine’s Day I sent her a dozen pink roses. I remember walking around Bloomington looking for a good florist. She says to this day that when she got the roses she knew she would marry me.
Our dating grew more intense and, while I did not notice it at the time, tiring. The young think themselves indestructible. But I was not. I got mononucleosis and was hospitalized. Diane visited me but still made time to see a boy who was passing through town. A friend of mine spotted them and told me. I milked that for all its worth..
Whither, After College?
Before settling on law school, I was picked by a group of iu Professors with either Rhodes Scholarships or some connection to Oxford university to represent IU in competition for that prestigious scholarship. One of the professors I had taken a seminar from first year–Breon MitchelL served on the selection committee.I underwent extensive interviews and dinner with the Rhodes selection committee in Chicago. I did not win. So it was off to Law school, not Oxford.
There are two aspects of the Rhodes interview process I recall. First, I thought I had done well when asked about my interest in Kierkegaard. Second, I recall discussing a then-current but very politically incorrect book by George Gilder which suggested an evolutionary basis for women to be homemakers . I regretted getting into that.
I was accepted at the University of Chicago Law school with considerable financial aid . That was a convenient location as well as a good law school. Diane and I were serious. She decided not to go abroad to school as she had planned but instead to finish her college by living at home in Munster, Indiana (a suburb of Chicago) and attending a regional Indiana University campus in Gary.
I lived in the law school dorm the first year of law school. We saw each other most weekends, usually at her parents’ house. Diane’s mom would prepare a nice dinner on Sunday and her Dad would often drive me to the train or back into Chicago Sunday evening . I appreciated how they welcomed me. I have tried to be as accepting of my daughters’ boyfriends and husbands
My first week of law school was like something out of the movie, The Paper Chase. Even before school began, assignments had been posted on the Law School Bulletin board. The first day of Torts class we were expected to be ready to discuss 30 or 40 pages of the Casebook. Professor Epstein asked me to recite the facts of Vosburg v. Putney, which involved one boy kicking another in the shins. As I recall the kicked boy had unusually vulnerable shins.But the risk of a vulnerable shin should be borne by the kicker not the kickee. I knew all this as I tried to state the facts ,But I had the wrong kid doing the kicking. “Wrong !” screamed Epstein, and then he threw his chalk at me. I was stunned. The class laughed. I was not in Indiana any more .
After a bit, my confidence grew. I was good at law school, the hypothetical fact situations and the mode of analysis. But I was not happy with the all-consuming nature of Law School. I lived, ate and showered with law students; some kids took law books into the shower. It was intense. I remember a friend Lauren Dessonville, put up a sign at exam time on his door paraphrasing Dr Johnson–“nothing so concentrates the mind as the realization that you are about to be hung in the morning .”
After a few months of Law School, I asked Diane to marry me . I spilled the beans as soon as I met her as she got off the train from Indiana. I could not wait until the ring was in my hand. We then took the Illinois Central train to the Loop where I had previously picked out a diamond ring at a tony jewelry store, Carteaux, where they had to buzz you in. I gave it to her while we were sitting on a bench in the train station in the Loop. Those benches are no longer there. Where are the historic preservation people when you really need them?
We got married in June 1976. For that summer I had a good law firm job at Isham, Lincoln and Beale ( the Lincoln in this name referred to Robert Todd Lincoln, son of President Lincoln) for the summer because my first year grades had been As.
I was 22; she was 21; we had no money. I did well at Isham and was told that as long as they existed I would have a job waiting for me there. I appreciated the enthusiastic offer. Unfortunately, after more than a century of existence, it went out of business a few years later.
Our Wedding
We had a fairly large wedding at Diane’s church. I had not slept the night before . I was supposed to share a bed with Brian at the Holiday Inn but I ended up on the floor wedged between bed and wall. The wedding itself was also uncomfortable. It was a very hot June day. I sweated profusely. Brad was my best man. Diane and I had memorized our vows; the music was good; I was soaking wet. I was skinny and had a lot of hair. I must have been a sight. But all eyes were on Diane anyway, who looked beautiful.
The reception was in the church basement; then we took off for Bloomington—a four hour drive. We loved opening the cards and checks on the drive down. Our first married night was at the Ramada Inn in Bloomington and then we went to a resort on a nearby lake—Inn of the Four Winds. We pedaled paddleboats, ate good meals, drank whiskey sours and had a great time.
T
/h1> A couple tough years
The first few years of marriage were tough, particularly for Diane. She was working in dreary secretarial jobs in downtown Chicago while I excelled in law school, becoming law review, then articles editor, etc. She hated the apartment as it had many roaches; the Hyde Park neighborhood ( she was attacked once and the barking dogs in the first floor apartment scared off her assailant ); my law school friends who saw her as merely Jeff’s wife; her jobs; her often frigid commute, particularly when walking across the bridge over the Chicago River ; and when she came home to find me watching cartoons instead of studying, me. Summers were better –I took summer jobs in D.C. at prestigious law firms, Covington & Burling and Shea & Gardner.When law school was over , we were much happier
A Great Judicial Clerkship
I graduated at or near the top of my class and obtained a coveted judicial clerkship with U.S. Circuit Judge Spottswood Robinson of the DC Circuit. Judge Robinson had been the brief writer/researcher for Thurgood Marshall in Brown vs Board of Education and numerous other seminal civil rights cases. He had earned the highest grades in the history of Howard Law school, and had been dean there , a member of the civil rights commission,and a District Court Judge appointed by President Kennedy. President Johnson nominated him to the D.C. Circuit.
Judge Robinson’s diligence in work, care in research and gentle courtesy were the greatest examples to me. Every night as we left he would speak for a few minutes with the cleaning ladies. We might be working till 11 pm but the judge never rushed out—he always took time to talk to people as people. I hope it fair to call him my mentor in law and life. He was a giant compared to many lawyers today who remember him, if at all, as the judge who wrote the most prolix opinions with numerous footnotes.
I learned the importance of research from the judge as well. I learned that elegance in the written word is nice but winning cases requires not elegant rhetoric but
comprehensive research of authorities and thinking clearly about the important precedents. I considered it high praise when one client commented upon reading my brief—“You researched this back to Leviticus.”
In my later law practice I found the Robinsonian emphasis on research remarkably valuable. In Lockheed vs Thomas I prepared a cert petition involving a question that the Supreme Court had previously declined to hear, notwithstanding a split in the circuits. But by research I found that proponents of a national court of appeals (which was anathema to most Supreme Court Justices) had cited that unresolved conflict as the kind of case for which a new court was needed. That got the Supreme Court’s attention. Certorari was granted and to my surprise we won the case 7-2.
The second example was even more dramatic. The law firm had represented the National Forests Products Assn in a case involving the right of landowners to build access roads across Government land in Montana to remove timber from the privately owned land. (Much of the West exhibited this checkerboard pattern of public and private lands.) By the time I was asked to work on the case there was a 3-0 Ninth Circuit Opinion against us on all points. I was given the usually hopeless task of seeking rehearing by the panel or the whole circuit court In Banc. The associates who had worked on the case before me were very good—Elizabeth Gibson—later a professor At UNC; and Bill Eskridge, later a professor at Yale. But research it anew I did and I found something new which undermined the Ninth Circuit’s conclusion that the right of access contained in the Alaska National Lands Act was limited to Alaska lands. I discovered that subsequent to the passage of the Alaska Act Congress had also passed laws involving national forest lands in other states such as Colorado . The conference report on the Colorado act had eliminated the right of access in that statute because the conferees understood the prior Alaska act to grant the access on a national basis . That included Montana. When this escavation of legislative history was demonstrated to the court the court withdrew the prior opinion and issued a new one finding for us 3-0 on that basis.
One of my life’s disappointments was that I did not get to clerk on the Supreme Court. I was granted an interview by Justice Rehnquest ; I spoke to the Chief Justice’s selection committee, and was a finalist for Justice Blackmun , who asked judge robinson to write him a recommendation, which the judge handwrote in his beautiful penmanship.
I had long coveted a supreme court clerkship. Throughout law school when I was shooting baskets by myself .’. I would say to myself-‘-if I make this SHOT I will get the clerkship.’ THE ODD THING IS THAT I later learned that a competitor had obtained the Rehnquist clerkship by disclosing a similar FANTASY to the justice ,who THEN invited the application to visit the basketball court in the supreme court building. Rehnquist watched as the applicant sunk a foul shot.
and then offered him the job. When I HEARD THIS STORY, I THOUGHT someone was stealing a slice of my life.THEN I settled INTO REGRET THAT I HAD NOT HAD THE COURAGE TO SUGGEST THIS TO REHNQUIST
I recall getting a new tie for the Rehnquist interview, but even that did not help. In that interview the Justice read to me from one of my law professor references, David Currie, who had said my record was virtually identical to Maureen Mahoney’s—an attractive classmate of mine. (Her name was recently mentioned in connection with a Supreme court vacancy.) She got the clerkship. I convinced myself that I did not come off well in interview situations. After interviews I always thought of things I wish I had said and things I wish I had not said.that was one of the biggest disappointments of my professional life
Back home to Indiana and Becoming a Father
After my clerkship with Judge Robinson, Diane and I decided to see if living in Indiana suited us. I think I was persuaded in part because of the disappointment I felt over not getting a Supreme Court clerkship. I accepted a job with the biggest firm in the state –Barnes, Hickam, Pantzer & Boyd. I passed the Indiana bar without even taking the usual bar review course. But neither my work nor the town suited us so after several months I quietly arranged to return to the Washington firm of Shea & Gardner.
The most important event that occurred that year in Indiana was the birth of our first child—Sarah.
I thought we were ready but two weeks before she was due to give birth (her doctor had said she was due Race day—the day of the Indy 500) , Diane and I woke up in the middle of the night. The bed was soaked. Her water had burst. She got in the shower. And I began making her jello—food she could eat while waiting for contractions. We then called the doctor, who said “ forget all that nonsense, get to the hospital now.” We drove there, arriving early morning. After a day of pitocin – induced hard labor and an epidural for pain relief, Diane gave birth around 7 pm that evening.
I was in the delivery room but my view was a bit obscured when the real action started so I stood up. The doctor snapped at me to sit down. I did. I recall the pure joy of holding Sarah and seeing her held by Diane. The days my daughters were born rank as my favorite days of all time. Such joy ! We got a car seat and took her home in a few days.
Fatherhood –for me–marked the beginning of true adulthood. There was now a person utterly dependent on us whom we would do anything to protect. I worried a bit more than normal as crib death was much talked about then— I spent hours watching her sleep, placing my hand on her chest or back to feel her breathe. But there was nothing more important to do.
We soon learned the importance of formula, apple juice, Luvs or Huggies( after a horrid experience with cloth diapers and a diaper service), wipes and other baby necessities. Sarah was a beautiful, happy, bright child, but in the first few weeks she was given to projectile vomiting.
Diane has not worked outside the home since Sarah was born and I am so grateful that she made that choice, even though we were moving back to Washington, a City that defines people by their jobs. We announced we were leaving and left shortly after the Barnes people threw us a terrific baby shower. Diane was mortified. I thought it was just one of those things.
A Thanksgiving without Turkey for Diane
Two and a half years later I was still at the Shea & Gardner law firm and we lived in a rented house in downtown Silver Spring, within walking distance to the Metro. Diane was expecting again and due anytime. On Thanksgiving at about 2 am Diane woke me . I shaved and drove her to the downtown George Washington Hospital where she was to give birth. My mother was staying with us so she stayed home with Sarah. The hospital staff examined Diane and sent us home but by the time we got home we turned around and drove back.
We did not know the baby’s sex in advance but if it was a girl we had decided the name would be either Jennifer or Laura. If a boy we were inclined toward Peter. Sarah wanted a brother.
After the usual preliminaries Laura was born and cleaned up. As I held her I looked at her and said, “Hi Laura , I am your Dad and your mom and I love you so much.” The name was settled the moment I looked at her. She just looked like a Laura.
We called home and told Sarah she had a sister. “No ,” Sarah insisted, “I have a baby brother.” She eventually came around.
Mom took care of Sarah and worried about Diane missing dinner. But turkey was the last thing on Diane’s mind. Our family was complete, Diane resolved in her heart. During the aftermath of the birth Diane had her tubes tied. I made no objection .
Fatherhood
Bertand Russell said, “The place of the father in the modern suburban family is a very small one, particularly if he plays golf.” Though wittily phrased, Lord Russell’s remark could not be more off base.
I knew—from the day they arrived—that nothing I did would matter if these girls did not grow up healthy , happy and confident. I knew that family vacations were important but that routine father/daughter trips to the zoo or to miniature golf (perhaps Russell was not referring to mini-golf) were even more so. After work, we would often go to a nearby park with swings where my specialty was the Super-Duper push where the girls would go so high I could run under them.
But these excursions were not made to fulfill parental duties—we just had fun together. Often I would take turns doing something with each daughter separately. I am grateful that I became a father during a time when the culture recognized that the Victorian model of a distant father focused on reading the newspaper or brooding about work was not the most natural or healthful sort of father.
My kids loved to come into my office –to write on note pads, talk on the phone or intercom and drink a soda. They would leave me pictures or notes I would find later. When asked what kind of work their daddy did, their answer was not “he is a lawyer,” it was “he talks on the phone and drinks Cokes.”
As they grew, my job was to provide the support—financial and cheerleading—to pursue their dreams—instead of having my own agenda for their lives.
Cats and Dogs
From the beginning of our marriage pets were important. Preparing for our first married Christmas, we bought some ornaments at a Hyde Park drugstore and put up and decorated a tree. We were beginning our traditions. Prior to the purchase we had a conversation that has since been repeated about 30 times: short needle or long. Diane preferred short and her view has prevailed probably 28 out of 30 Christmases together.
A few days before Christmas we went to the Chicago poundand picked out a calico female kitten as my main Christmas present. We called her Chrissie.
A few days later I noticed with both anticipation and concern that I had a large growing number of presents under the tree. Should I get Diane more? On Christmas morning I found upon opening my gifts that I had received cat supplies—litter, food and water bowls, litter box, and cat food.We laughed—my wife was cute and sneaky.
Chrissie was a sweet cat and enjoyed the simple pleasures—rubbing up against a leg, or swatting and chasing an aluminum foil ball. In later years she loved sleeping with the kids. She lived about 15 years. When her kidneys failed and she could scarcely.
A few years walk, she used her last strength to climb our stairs to reach the girls’ bedrooms after Chrissie’s death we got a dog –part poodle, part cocker. We named her Jessie and she loved to run around our yard –barking and running off deer 10 times her size. She had black hair and a gentle nature . When she came down with a fatal illness we were all heartsick and I cradled her in my arms at night. When she died at 3 am one morning, it was lying atop my chest in bed. After some preparation I woke everyone in the family up and we went down in our back woods , where we held a simple funeral service. Our pets teach us much about love.
Shea & Gardner
The bulk of my legal career was devoted to the private practice of law at an unusual firm called Shea & Gardner. It had been founded in 1946 by Frank Shea and Warner Gardner, both distinguished government lawyers in the FDR Administration. Frank had been Assistant Attorney General for the Claims Division and deputy prosecutor at Nuremberg (deputy to Justice Robert Jackson); Warner had been Solicitor of Labor and Deputy Solicitor General. Earlier in his career Warner had been law clerk to Chief Justice Harlan Fiske Stone and worked awhile for the irascible Harold Ickes.
Frank and Warner shared a common passion for excellence in legal advocacy. They believed in hiring the very brightest. I had heard about the firm while working the previous summer at Covington & Burling , an excellent firm that was itself the subject of a mid -1970s book termed the Superlawyers. I asked people at Covington to recommend a smaller firm; Shea was the consensus choice. I chose to work there simply because I thought the per capita quality of legal brainpower there was unsurpassed anywhere . It was an unusual reason for picking a firm.
The personality of the place was that of an elite meritocracy. If an applicant put Phi Beta Kappa on his resume, Frank would ask—“was that junior or senior year?” Frank was the big business generator—Warner the scholar. The faculties of leading law schools boast numerous Shea & Garner alumni.
my practice during the 1980s primarily consisted of two areas–,major litigation and the design and regulation of novel insurance products, such as flexible premium variable life insurance. Larry Latto was the senior partner in the sec/insurance area. He had been Shea AND Gardner’s firstt associate and much later the first–post-Frank Shea Chairman of the firm. larry Asked me to get involved with his largest client, Prudential INSURANCE, as well as others. The area was esoteric and complicated but after initial reluctance I found I enjoyed working with the actuaries and business executives. Larry Latto , one of our colleagues observed, would rather be admitted to the Society of Actuaries than given a seat on the Supreme court. Larry’s enthusiasm was contagious. We worked well together for several years.
We sometimes butted heads with lawyers for other companies who were not as candid about the implications of various rule proposals before the sec. On behalf of Prudential we submitted lengthy comment on a proposed rule 6e-3(t) supported by the ACLI–the life insurance business trade association and lobbyist. we submitted a comment showing that the premium an insurer could assume would be paid under a flexible premium product, and from which certain percentage loads could be taken , were considerably higher than the target premiums actually expected . This comment upset some of Prudential’s competitors but we were happy to be forthcoming. We were even more pleased WHEN OUR PRODUCT WAS THE FIRST ONE OF ITS GENRE CLEARED BY THE STAFF OF THE SEC.
I had the privilege of sitting at counsel table in the Supreme Court for Warner’s last argument there. I had done most of the work on the briefs. Warner was brought in for argument and in time to comment on our reply brief. Warner commented that my mind was so sharp it sliced clouds. I think that meant I was drawing distinctions where there were no valid grounds for them. But we won the case and a most remarkable thing happened in oral argument. Warner was allowed to go on talking for a couple minutes after the red light went on. It was a measure of respect for him that the Chief Justice would not cut him off. No one in the courtroom that day had ever seen the Chief , WARREN BURGER , so lenient.
Frank’s mode of preparing for an oral argument was both quite civilized and quite brutal. He would have the team over for a superb dinner—wine from his first-rate cellar would freely flow. After dinner Frank would turn to one of two of his more junior colleagues and say, “How would you argue this case?”—whereupon the attorney would be expected to give not merely a coherent but polished argument, which would then be critiqued by the group. On one occasion Frank got tired after dinner, put on his pajamas, and held his court in his bedroom. As someone was arguing a case Frank called out to his housekeeper for more rabbit pate. Told there was no more , Frank fumed, “What? No more rabbit pate?” I liked to tell this story to my protégés at Shea & Gardner so they would see the comedy that exists in even the most serious , pressurized situations. This scene was worthy of Monty Python.
I became a partner in April 1985 , after about five years at the firm. When I was a young partner I was appointed to the firm’s governing body—the executive committee. Besides representing the young partners , I had two duties there: Taking the minutes , and helping Frank Shea get his galoshes off before the meetings. I had a number of great experiences at the law firm –Supreme court cases; large SEC clients; lead attorney in multi-billion dollar bank failure cases. I came away with several conclusions about private law practice. Shea & Gardner was as “old school’ as any law firm but to earn respect in law firms today you must get and hold clients. It is how law firms keep score. I proved quite able or lucky in that regard. Second, be prepared to do anything. I never expected to do SEC or insurance regulatory work but I ended up with millions of dollars of legal business in this area. Third, take opportunities for government service. The firm will want you back. Finally, be generous with your colleagues, in terms of credit, client contact and pay.
My partners at Shea & Gardner were very talented. Steve Hadley, one of the nicest and ablest lawyers in the firm worked on some matters with me and served on the executive committee with me. I mention him because he BECAME PRESIDENT George w BUSH’S NATIONAL SECURITY ADVISER.. Another partner had served as CIA director in the Clinton administration,, Jim Woolsey . All in all, it was a great firm and I am saddened to report it was merged into the Boston firm of Goodwin & Procter in 2004.
I will give just one example of the kind of interesting and unexpected cases I handled at Shea & Gardner. First Republic Bank Texas was the most expensive bank failure in US history. I was lead litigation attorney for all three creditors’ committees against the FDIC. The amount at issue was $ 2 billion –we claimed the FDIC owed us a billion; they claimed we owed them a billion. There were four major law firms and the Wall Street Journal watching every step I took in the courtroom. How did I get this case ? How was it resolved?
The case came to me because of a previous unsuccessful presentation I had made for business from American General corporation, a major bondholder of FirstRepublic. In this prior matter the company was seeking counsel to prepare a certorari petition in a case involving the applicability of securities laws to an excess interest annuity contract. I made the pitch and was told I impressed the general counsel. Among the cases I spoke about was a successful challenge a colleague and I had made to the banking regulators’ brokered deposit regulations. We did not get the annuity case but more than a year later I got a call from American general asking me come to Houston to review how the FDIC was tying up the value of the FirstRepublic banks and harming the bondholders. I went down and said I thought we should not seek an injunction, because we lacked irreparable harm. The banks came tumbling down by the FDIC’s exercise of guarantees given by the holding company and ALL THE other AFFILIATED banks of a $ 1 billion loan made to the lead First Republic banks (Dallas and Houston) by the FDIC. As mentioned earlier, in terms of bank asset size and cost to the government, it was AT THE TIMEthe largest bank failure in U.S. history.
We persuaded the creditors’ committees to retain us. Then we developed the theory that the holding company guarantee was unenforceable because it was a fraudulent conveyance. We also argued that the FDIC had shut down good banks to offset its own costs from other banks. The bankruptcy court agreed with many of my arguments after an all-day presentation I made. We then settled the 2 billion dollar case by transferring the value of a Delaware credit card bank owned by the debtor to the creditors and both sides agreed to withdraw their billion dollar claims. We garnered about 220 million from the sale of the credit card bank to Citicorp — thus, senior bondholders received all their money back; the vulture funds who bought the senior or junior bonds in distress made huge killings.
The Education Department
As First Republic was concluding I was asked to get involved in another big bank failure- Bank of New England . The thought of another all consuming bank failure case was not welcome from my personal perspective. I contacted Lamar Alexander, former governor of Tennessee, about whether he might be interested in my helping him should he be confirmed as Education Secretary. I had met Lamar when Brad was in the Legislature. Lamar was interested ; he got confirmed and then I was nominated by the president –Bush 41—to be general counsel of the Education Department.
The confirmation process was interesting. Sen. Strom Thurmond came off the Senate floor to meet me, look me in the eye, and ask me about my family. He then said “ you seem like a fine young man. I believe I’ll vote for you.’ Sen. Paul Simon was worried that I was too conservative on civil rights issues –he had heard about work I had done on accrediting agencies as an adviser to the Secretary. SO I went to see SENATOR SIMON. I told him about my considerable pro bono civil rights practice, including the pro bono representation involving promotions I had provided to the black police officers in Jackson , Mississippi at the request of the Lawyers Committee for Civil Rights. He was then supportive. I was confirmed unanimously.
I had about 100 lawyers working for me and I had the confidence of Secretary Alexander. The issues were fascinating—including, school choice, race-based scholarships and admissions , gender equality in intercollegiate sports, national standards, testing and accreditation. I think we did very good work but the President’s lack of a real domestic agenda and his breaking of the “read my lips—no new taxes” pledge paved the way for the election of Bill Clinton.
The team Lamar put together at Education was first rate –including David Kearns –who had been chairman of Xerox—and Diane Ravitch, the education scholar. I learned a lot at Education, from both the political people and the career lawyers.
I will mention a couple of the issues I dealt with at Education. One was political correctness imposed by accrediting agencies though a diversity requirement. The Secretary had to accredit the accreditors as “reliable authorities” in order for the schools they accredit to participate in federal student aid programs. Middle States was requiring Westminster Theological Seminary to put a woman on its board and Baruch College, a college with 18% minority faculty , to increase that percentage. To make a long story short , Secretary Alexander thought those decisions threatened academic freedom and diversity among institutions and so we withheld designation of Middle States as reliable until they dropped its diversity requirement.
Second, I enjoyed my role in developing and supporting the GI bill for kids, under which poor families could take $1000 dollars of federal money to the public or private school of their choosing . This would inject needed competition into the system. I wish the present administration and Congress would do more in the area of school choice. The constitutionality of such laws is even clearer than it was in 1992. The crisis in public elementary and secondary education is even graver.
Reprise at Shea & Gardner
In January of 1993 I was back at the firm. The bank failure cases were largely over. So I set about finding other business. For the next 4 -5 years I was very involved in projects to correct faulty or inadequate legacy computer systems that may have adversely affected policyholders, shareholders or other customers. Though the details varied, the projects all followed a common path. We found the problem; instituted improved processes to avoid a recurrence ; and made full restitution. My job was to design the project and then sell it to the regulators, state or federal. No regulator ever sanctioned one of my clients in these projects. No class action attorney ever brought a case. And we stayed out of the newspapers. These were all very useful cleanup projects—from both the clients and the regulators’ perspectives. Corporate compliance—particularly remediation of computer errors—had become my new specialty.
The Owl of Minerva 