Monday, September 12, 2011
Today is the first day of the district attorneys’ conference. It is not all that unusual for me to miss it. I didn’t go in 2006, but I have been to the past four. I am sorry to say I am not really missing the conference. I do miss seeing the people I have come to know for the past 30 years. I don’t care what the media says, or the defense bar or popular culture, or anyone: as far as I am concerned prosecutors are the greatest people in the world.
I always had fun at the party. (Younger prosecutors have taken to calling it the “prom” but I have never figured out why.) For several years I made a point of having too much to drink. (I had to stop that the last couple of years because my room was so far away I had to drive to the party.) It was always fun to see everyone. Through my work at CDAC I got to know D.A.’s from all over the state. At the party I was able to catch up. Plus after enough alcohol I found my way to the dance floor. Many of the women at the conference were kind enough to dance with the old man and not laugh—well, not out loud.
Tonight will be a tailgate party, I assume. We started this when I was at CDAC and the Broncos game was on Monday Night Football. We had hot dogs and hamburgers while the game was on. The Bronco game doesn’t start until 8, so I suppose that will mess things up somewhat. I assume there will be music and dancing. It will still be a good time.
The best time I ever had at the party was in 2009 when Scott and I went kind of crazy and paid $2000 for a signed picture of the 1980 United States Olympic Hockey team. I wrote a blog about that which I will post again here. That was a fun night. Of course, now that I am unemployed I wish I could have my thousand bucks back, instead of having a poster sitting in an office which I will never go into again. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. And I wasn’t even drunk. (I am kidding. I am glad that poster sits in intake, and will for a while. I hope the next D.A. will leave it there.)
But other than the party, the conference had less and less to offer me. I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but after more than 20 of those things, the classes had lost their utility. I have said for years that CDAC needed trainings which were more topical, more up to date, and more interactive. I believe the defense bar has done a better job at using their conference to set out specific motions and strategies for defense attorneys to use in light of modern case law. I think CDAC has been welded to the old ways of thinking for too long, and they end up rehashing the same topics over and over.
I do believe things are going to change, however. CDAC’s new director, Tom Raynes brings a fresh perspective to the position. Tom is a good friend, and a man I respect immensely. Not only is he personable, knowledgeable, and perceptive, but he possesses the ability to visualize the world in new ways. I believe he has the ideas and drive to bring a new era to CDAC. I hope that means a new direction for the conference.
Although I don’t think moving the case law update to Wednesday is the right direction. I understand the motivation to provide incentive for people to stay through the entire conference but I think this move will backfire. I hope I am wrong.
I was privileged (imposed upon?) to teach the case law update four times. Giving this presentation is an immense amount of work. I would start preparing in April. Why so far in advance? I had to read all the weekly AG updates, put them in an outline (often, thankfully, with the help of CDAC staff), and then read case after case after case. After all, I had to read lots of cases I wasn’t going to present. Then I had to prepare a Powerpoint. I am no George Brauchler nor Mark Randall, so my Powerpoints were pretty dull. That was a conscious choice. I decided that unless you can do a Powerpoint as good as the ones Mark and George put together, you are best to stay bare bones and have it just highlight what you are talking about. This of course puts more pressure on your speaking ability, but in truth, I did not have to be much of a speaker because everyone was so interested in the subject matter. The case law update is probably the only part of the conference where the material carried the presentation no matter how bad I was.
Mostly I just tried to give everyone an idea of which cases they needed to read. I did try to give them some perspective on how the law had gotten to that point, and I did sometimes offer practical advice, but I never tried to pontificate. I have found (the hard way) that when you set out to prove how smart you are, the most likely outcome is demonstrating how smart you are not. So I did not try to get in the way of the subject matter. For the same reason I told very few jokes. Unless you are truly funny, like George, the harder you try to be funny the more painful it gets for the audience. I tried to be funny for a minute or two in the beginning and maybe once or twice the rest of the time. The bottom line is that everyone in that room is crying for the information. If they want entertainment they will go to Vegas.
Teaching that session was the most fun I would have all year. Yes, it took well over 100 hours of preparation for two hours of speaking, and all those Saturday mornings were not a trip to Disneyland, but standing up in front of 600 people was an incredible rush. To see the faces of that many people listening to you is an incredible experience. And you can see faces. This is not a situation where everyone is anonymous. Standing on that platform you can make out individuals. You can see who is sleeping, who is taking notes, and who is shaking their head indicating you have your head up your ass. Primarily those were the lawyers from the Attorney General’s Appellate Section. They knew if I got something wrong.
Of course, speaking to 600 lawyers, many of whom I knew, came with risk. I have blogged before about the evaluations. I knew that if I sucked everyone in the prosecution community would know it. A bad presentation would completely blow my credibility with everyone and constitute a major embarrassment. (Worse even than the drunk dancing.) That was why the 100 hours of preparation. I must have done ok or they would not have asked me back. Still, I did not mind passing the torch last year. I hope it goes well this year. And I hope people actually stick around to listen.
This is the blog I wrote in 2009 about the 1980 U.S. Hockey Team picture auction.
Not every CDAC conference leaves me with a lasting memory. I have been to maybe 20 of them since 1985 and I could not tell you even where they were. I remember when Bill Ritter was thrown, fully clothed, into the pool, and when a DA passed out on the golf course in Estes Park. I remember the year Judge Po gave the keynote and the time we made the “Planet of the Apes” movie. Most conference memories run from me in a drunken haze or under the cover of, frankly, boredom. This year though, something happened which I will not soon forget (barring Alzhiemer’s, lobotomy, or closed-head injury).
As I am sure you know, if you are a loyal reader of Miles from Nowhere (which you must be) that the prosecution community, in an effort led by Eva Wilson and Kathy Holscher, held an auction for the benefit of the Sean May memorial fund. Contributions poured in from around the state, ultimately exceeding 300 separate auction items. Lots of sporting event tickets, wine, food and other coupons and a myriad of other things including a gourmet meal cooked by chief deputy DA’s Mitch Murray and Emily Humphrey of Larimer County (which I wish I had bid on, not for the food, but for the company). The auction raised more than $22,000, a pretty incredible amount when you figure only about 500 even attended the conference; and we are not the highest paid lawyers around.
During the tailgate party (or prom, if you will) there was a live auction, featuring an art print donated by the Arvada Police Department, a Todd Helton autographed baseball, a Joe Sakic autographed stick, and a John Elway autographed jersey. I believe the latter went for just under $900. The final auction item was a photograph of the 1980 Olympic hockey team (and if you don’t know why that team is legendary you might as well stop reading now). The picture had been signed by all 20 members of that team. And although it was announced at the auction how this item came to be included, let me reiterate.
The captain of that team, and the one who scored the game-winning goal against the Soviets, was Mike Eruzione. He was a 1977 graduate of Boston University, where he starred on the hockey team. I was a 1976 graduate of Boston University, where I covered the hockey team for the school newspaper. We were not friends, really, but certainly I talked to him a lot, and often right after games would find ourselves in the same social setting (the drinking age was 18 at that time). Since my graduation I had had no contact with him at all. Remembering that he was one of the nicest guys I ever met, I took the chance to ask him for a donation. He works for BU and, amazingly, his office number is on their internet site. I called on a Friday afternoon and left a message, asking for a donation and explaining what it was for. I hoped perhaps for a return call from his assistant offering an autographed photo or something. The next Monday morning, however, Eruzione himself called me first thing in the morning. We chatted very briefly, and he said he did not remember me at all (and why should he). But he remembered the school newspaper, and he wanted to help. He offered the signed poster and said it had on other occasions raised a lot of money. Mike gave me his secretary’s number. When I spoke to her about shipping arrangements and payment she indicated that I need not worry about the cost. The signed photo showed up about three days later.
It arrived rolled up. I bought a cheap frame just to stick it in for display purposes. It did not look like much, but to anyone who remembered that team the emotional impact of seeing the picture with those signatures was volcanic. When I gave the picture to Eva I remember thinking that this was only a loan and I was determined to get it back. Knowing our audience was bunch of underpaid lawyers with huge student loans, I figured about $500 should do it. (Meg, being in Europe, could learn to live a more Bohemian lifestyle for a while, I figured.)
When the photo was offered at the auction the room was pretty crowded, and I had positioned myself near the front. I knew Chris Phillips from my office wanted it, but she has to send four kids to college, which gave me a significant edge. The bidding quickly went up from $100. I offered maybe $400 at one point, but hands shot up at $500, $600, $800. Before I could even contemplate spending enough for a big-screen tv for a single picture, the $1000 barrier was broached and exceeded. The most aggressive bidder was my boss, Scott Storey. Although having served as an elected district attorney for the past three and a half years, Scott is still a trial lawyer at heart and he was determined not to lose this competition. He turned to me and said if he won the auction the photo was going to be hung in the office. “Good,” I thought, “this should belong to us.” (Arrogant I know, but I still have some trial lawyer in me and I was caught up in the heat of the moment.) I felt an affinity for this poster which in a few minutes had leapt from merely sentiment to deep and abiding affection. I wanted it as much as Scott did.
Still, the hands kept shooting up as if we were bidding with Monopoly money. Without even slowing down, the auctioneer called $1400, $1500, $1700. Others, it seemed, were committed to ripping away what by now had become my (not-quite-yet, but destined-to-be) prized possession. The auctioneer turned to Scott. The room had quieted, pretty much, the dollars involved stilling even drunken lawyers on their annual fling. Scott turned to me and asked me if we should split it. My adrenaline racing, and competitive fires burning like trying a first degree murder case (from my vast experience of handling one of those) I nodded. Scott called out “Eighteen hundred dollars” in a voice filled with hubris. This certainly would shut the door on the interlopers. The amount had now roused the drunken bystanders from silence to raucous cheering, similar to how the Romans must have sounded when the lions were introduced into the arena. Without even a missed beat, whoever was bidding against Scott responded with a bid $100 higher.
By now the money meant nothing as money. It was just a measure of guts and desire. Scott has lots of the former, and I was filled with the latter. Two thousand dollars. Even typing it causes my palms to sweat. Two thousand dollars buys a lot. Two thousand dollars buys a year or more health insurance premiums, tankfuls of gas, or an HD tv large enough to count the blades of grass at Yankee Stadium. A $2000 commitment should make any rational person hesitate, but I was far beyond rational. All I could see was that framed picture in the lobby of our office. Scott turned to me, and I gave him both thumbs up. Again, in a voice loud with authority Scott shouted out our bid. The auctioneer froze, then proclaimed the auction over. Scott had won, we had our prize.
Of course the cold light of day often brings regret and remorse about an item purchased in a haste fueled by emotions (I had had nothing to drink). When I woke up the next morning, the enormity of my $1000 obligation hit home. Wow. All for a poster which I won’t even get to take home. I will be forced to see it at work, shared with 200 or so others. I should be sorry. I should be kicking myself. I should feel stupid. I don’t. Of course, overpaying (if we did) in an auction where the money will go to such a good cause is not something to regret. But I am also glad that Scott and I have brought to our office something that represents the best of what people can be; the most of what people can achieve; a source of pride. Perhaps there is symmetry between the team we celebrate and the person we mourn.
So, while Meg might have to forgo a Christmas trip to Gstaad, and I may have to eschew extravagant lunches, those “sacrifices” mean so little compared to what this money might mean to Sean’s widow and child. I am happy to share this with everyone. We need to get it nicely framed. When we do come to our office and take a look. And then decide if we were crazy.
I always had fun at the party. (Younger prosecutors have taken to calling it the “prom” but I have never figured out why.) For several years I made a point of having too much to drink. (I had to stop that the last couple of years because my room was so far away I had to drive to the party.) It was always fun to see everyone. Through my work at CDAC I got to know D.A.’s from all over the state. At the party I was able to catch up. Plus after enough alcohol I found my way to the dance floor. Many of the women at the conference were kind enough to dance with the old man and not laugh—well, not out loud.
Tonight will be a tailgate party, I assume. We started this when I was at CDAC and the Broncos game was on Monday Night Football. We had hot dogs and hamburgers while the game was on. The Bronco game doesn’t start until 8, so I suppose that will mess things up somewhat. I assume there will be music and dancing. It will still be a good time.
The best time I ever had at the party was in 2009 when Scott and I went kind of crazy and paid $2000 for a signed picture of the 1980 United States Olympic Hockey team. I wrote a blog about that which I will post again here. That was a fun night. Of course, now that I am unemployed I wish I could have my thousand bucks back, instead of having a poster sitting in an office which I will never go into again. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. And I wasn’t even drunk. (I am kidding. I am glad that poster sits in intake, and will for a while. I hope the next D.A. will leave it there.)
But other than the party, the conference had less and less to offer me. I don’t mean to sound arrogant, but after more than 20 of those things, the classes had lost their utility. I have said for years that CDAC needed trainings which were more topical, more up to date, and more interactive. I believe the defense bar has done a better job at using their conference to set out specific motions and strategies for defense attorneys to use in light of modern case law. I think CDAC has been welded to the old ways of thinking for too long, and they end up rehashing the same topics over and over.
I do believe things are going to change, however. CDAC’s new director, Tom Raynes brings a fresh perspective to the position. Tom is a good friend, and a man I respect immensely. Not only is he personable, knowledgeable, and perceptive, but he possesses the ability to visualize the world in new ways. I believe he has the ideas and drive to bring a new era to CDAC. I hope that means a new direction for the conference.
Although I don’t think moving the case law update to Wednesday is the right direction. I understand the motivation to provide incentive for people to stay through the entire conference but I think this move will backfire. I hope I am wrong.
I was privileged (imposed upon?) to teach the case law update four times. Giving this presentation is an immense amount of work. I would start preparing in April. Why so far in advance? I had to read all the weekly AG updates, put them in an outline (often, thankfully, with the help of CDAC staff), and then read case after case after case. After all, I had to read lots of cases I wasn’t going to present. Then I had to prepare a Powerpoint. I am no George Brauchler nor Mark Randall, so my Powerpoints were pretty dull. That was a conscious choice. I decided that unless you can do a Powerpoint as good as the ones Mark and George put together, you are best to stay bare bones and have it just highlight what you are talking about. This of course puts more pressure on your speaking ability, but in truth, I did not have to be much of a speaker because everyone was so interested in the subject matter. The case law update is probably the only part of the conference where the material carried the presentation no matter how bad I was.
Mostly I just tried to give everyone an idea of which cases they needed to read. I did try to give them some perspective on how the law had gotten to that point, and I did sometimes offer practical advice, but I never tried to pontificate. I have found (the hard way) that when you set out to prove how smart you are, the most likely outcome is demonstrating how smart you are not. So I did not try to get in the way of the subject matter. For the same reason I told very few jokes. Unless you are truly funny, like George, the harder you try to be funny the more painful it gets for the audience. I tried to be funny for a minute or two in the beginning and maybe once or twice the rest of the time. The bottom line is that everyone in that room is crying for the information. If they want entertainment they will go to Vegas.
Teaching that session was the most fun I would have all year. Yes, it took well over 100 hours of preparation for two hours of speaking, and all those Saturday mornings were not a trip to Disneyland, but standing up in front of 600 people was an incredible rush. To see the faces of that many people listening to you is an incredible experience. And you can see faces. This is not a situation where everyone is anonymous. Standing on that platform you can make out individuals. You can see who is sleeping, who is taking notes, and who is shaking their head indicating you have your head up your ass. Primarily those were the lawyers from the Attorney General’s Appellate Section. They knew if I got something wrong.
Of course, speaking to 600 lawyers, many of whom I knew, came with risk. I have blogged before about the evaluations. I knew that if I sucked everyone in the prosecution community would know it. A bad presentation would completely blow my credibility with everyone and constitute a major embarrassment. (Worse even than the drunk dancing.) That was why the 100 hours of preparation. I must have done ok or they would not have asked me back. Still, I did not mind passing the torch last year. I hope it goes well this year. And I hope people actually stick around to listen.
This is the blog I wrote in 2009 about the 1980 U.S. Hockey Team picture auction.
Not every CDAC conference leaves me with a lasting memory. I have been to maybe 20 of them since 1985 and I could not tell you even where they were. I remember when Bill Ritter was thrown, fully clothed, into the pool, and when a DA passed out on the golf course in Estes Park. I remember the year Judge Po gave the keynote and the time we made the “Planet of the Apes” movie. Most conference memories run from me in a drunken haze or under the cover of, frankly, boredom. This year though, something happened which I will not soon forget (barring Alzhiemer’s, lobotomy, or closed-head injury).
As I am sure you know, if you are a loyal reader of Miles from Nowhere (which you must be) that the prosecution community, in an effort led by Eva Wilson and Kathy Holscher, held an auction for the benefit of the Sean May memorial fund. Contributions poured in from around the state, ultimately exceeding 300 separate auction items. Lots of sporting event tickets, wine, food and other coupons and a myriad of other things including a gourmet meal cooked by chief deputy DA’s Mitch Murray and Emily Humphrey of Larimer County (which I wish I had bid on, not for the food, but for the company). The auction raised more than $22,000, a pretty incredible amount when you figure only about 500 even attended the conference; and we are not the highest paid lawyers around.
During the tailgate party (or prom, if you will) there was a live auction, featuring an art print donated by the Arvada Police Department, a Todd Helton autographed baseball, a Joe Sakic autographed stick, and a John Elway autographed jersey. I believe the latter went for just under $900. The final auction item was a photograph of the 1980 Olympic hockey team (and if you don’t know why that team is legendary you might as well stop reading now). The picture had been signed by all 20 members of that team. And although it was announced at the auction how this item came to be included, let me reiterate.
The captain of that team, and the one who scored the game-winning goal against the Soviets, was Mike Eruzione. He was a 1977 graduate of Boston University, where he starred on the hockey team. I was a 1976 graduate of Boston University, where I covered the hockey team for the school newspaper. We were not friends, really, but certainly I talked to him a lot, and often right after games would find ourselves in the same social setting (the drinking age was 18 at that time). Since my graduation I had had no contact with him at all. Remembering that he was one of the nicest guys I ever met, I took the chance to ask him for a donation. He works for BU and, amazingly, his office number is on their internet site. I called on a Friday afternoon and left a message, asking for a donation and explaining what it was for. I hoped perhaps for a return call from his assistant offering an autographed photo or something. The next Monday morning, however, Eruzione himself called me first thing in the morning. We chatted very briefly, and he said he did not remember me at all (and why should he). But he remembered the school newspaper, and he wanted to help. He offered the signed poster and said it had on other occasions raised a lot of money. Mike gave me his secretary’s number. When I spoke to her about shipping arrangements and payment she indicated that I need not worry about the cost. The signed photo showed up about three days later.
It arrived rolled up. I bought a cheap frame just to stick it in for display purposes. It did not look like much, but to anyone who remembered that team the emotional impact of seeing the picture with those signatures was volcanic. When I gave the picture to Eva I remember thinking that this was only a loan and I was determined to get it back. Knowing our audience was bunch of underpaid lawyers with huge student loans, I figured about $500 should do it. (Meg, being in Europe, could learn to live a more Bohemian lifestyle for a while, I figured.)
When the photo was offered at the auction the room was pretty crowded, and I had positioned myself near the front. I knew Chris Phillips from my office wanted it, but she has to send four kids to college, which gave me a significant edge. The bidding quickly went up from $100. I offered maybe $400 at one point, but hands shot up at $500, $600, $800. Before I could even contemplate spending enough for a big-screen tv for a single picture, the $1000 barrier was broached and exceeded. The most aggressive bidder was my boss, Scott Storey. Although having served as an elected district attorney for the past three and a half years, Scott is still a trial lawyer at heart and he was determined not to lose this competition. He turned to me and said if he won the auction the photo was going to be hung in the office. “Good,” I thought, “this should belong to us.” (Arrogant I know, but I still have some trial lawyer in me and I was caught up in the heat of the moment.) I felt an affinity for this poster which in a few minutes had leapt from merely sentiment to deep and abiding affection. I wanted it as much as Scott did.
Still, the hands kept shooting up as if we were bidding with Monopoly money. Without even slowing down, the auctioneer called $1400, $1500, $1700. Others, it seemed, were committed to ripping away what by now had become my (not-quite-yet, but destined-to-be) prized possession. The auctioneer turned to Scott. The room had quieted, pretty much, the dollars involved stilling even drunken lawyers on their annual fling. Scott turned to me and asked me if we should split it. My adrenaline racing, and competitive fires burning like trying a first degree murder case (from my vast experience of handling one of those) I nodded. Scott called out “Eighteen hundred dollars” in a voice filled with hubris. This certainly would shut the door on the interlopers. The amount had now roused the drunken bystanders from silence to raucous cheering, similar to how the Romans must have sounded when the lions were introduced into the arena. Without even a missed beat, whoever was bidding against Scott responded with a bid $100 higher.
By now the money meant nothing as money. It was just a measure of guts and desire. Scott has lots of the former, and I was filled with the latter. Two thousand dollars. Even typing it causes my palms to sweat. Two thousand dollars buys a lot. Two thousand dollars buys a year or more health insurance premiums, tankfuls of gas, or an HD tv large enough to count the blades of grass at Yankee Stadium. A $2000 commitment should make any rational person hesitate, but I was far beyond rational. All I could see was that framed picture in the lobby of our office. Scott turned to me, and I gave him both thumbs up. Again, in a voice loud with authority Scott shouted out our bid. The auctioneer froze, then proclaimed the auction over. Scott had won, we had our prize.
Of course the cold light of day often brings regret and remorse about an item purchased in a haste fueled by emotions (I had had nothing to drink). When I woke up the next morning, the enormity of my $1000 obligation hit home. Wow. All for a poster which I won’t even get to take home. I will be forced to see it at work, shared with 200 or so others. I should be sorry. I should be kicking myself. I should feel stupid. I don’t. Of course, overpaying (if we did) in an auction where the money will go to such a good cause is not something to regret. But I am also glad that Scott and I have brought to our office something that represents the best of what people can be; the most of what people can achieve; a source of pride. Perhaps there is symmetry between the team we celebrate and the person we mourn.
So, while Meg might have to forgo a Christmas trip to Gstaad, and I may have to eschew extravagant lunches, those “sacrifices” mean so little compared to what this money might mean to Sean’s widow and child. I am happy to share this with everyone. We need to get it nicely framed. When we do come to our office and take a look. And then decide if we were crazy.
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