Tuesday, November 29, 2011

I found out today that one of my former colleagues in the DA’s office, Lisa Scanga, is in the hospital and apparently pretty sick. Lisa and I were not close, but we were friendly, and on many issues, like the infuriating and antiquated computer system, we were simpatico. I like Lisa and I respect her legal skills. Hearing of her condition made me sad.

Lisa is a strong personality. She takes her job extremely seriously, she has definite opinions about justice, and she is not hesitant to make her position known. Sometimes this can make Lisa difficult to work with, but I found her to be honest, ethical, committed, smart, and professional at all times. We butted heads sometimes, but more often we agreed. Lisa’s stridence can be off-putting to those who treat their job more as a way to make money than a calling, but for those of us who saw prosecution as more than a way to pay the bills, Lisa is a great ally.

Recently Lisa, along with Eva Wilson and Donna Reed, handled a 35(c) postconviction relief motion in Boulder in the child abuse resulting in death case of Molly Midyette. (There is a distinct possibility that had I not resigned I would have been part of this team, a fact which reinforces my lack of regret.) Of course, I heard nothing of the evidence, but I could tell from reading the judge’s excellent, comprehensive, and, as far as I am concerned unassailable ruling, the prosecution did an excellent job. The judge made a point of rejecting the credibility of the defendant and several witnesses. Eva said this was the result of Lisa’s effective cross-examination. I have no doubt that Lisa walked into that courtroom fully prepared, completely focused, and with a chip on her shoulder. I mean that last as a compliment.

All trial lawyers carry that chip. Even I used to when I was trying cases in the distant past. Criminal prosecution is not for the faint of heart, especially nowadays. I have written before about the mean-spiritedness of the courtroom. Without an attitude, failure is almost assured. Lisa never lacks for intestinal fortitude. I have only seen her a few times, and she is a quality advocate.

But Lisa is no courtroom savant, smooth in front of a jury and deficient in legal argument. Lisa was part of the jury instruction committee, and always contributed to the group. She has excellent analytical skills and a superior memory of case law. Many times Lisa made me feel stupid (which I both admired and hated).

So when I heard Lisa is facing some difficult health issues I was saddened. I don’t know how old Lisa is, but not very. She has a two-year old son she adores with her husband who I believe is an Aurora police officer. That she apparently was suffering the effects of her condition while doing her job without complaint is both remarkable and completely consistent with her personality.

So, get well soon Lisa. An admirer of yours is pulling for you from across the country.

Monday, November 28, 2011

It is always nice to know that young people respect their elders. But it is a little jarring when the elder is you.

When I returned from the grocery store this morning a very attractive young woman was parking her car also. She could see I was struggling to carry all my grocery bags and she offered to help. I accepted her offer and we soon realized that I was going to the apartment building while she had a job interview in the connected office building. Determining that she wasn’t going to the same place, I thanked her for her offer and took the grocery bags back. I wished her luck in her interview and she replied: “Thank you, sir.”

SIR??!!

I realize this woman is probably roughly the same age as my daughter (who will be 25 on her next birthday) but no man likes a pretty girl to call him “sir.” I am sure her father is probably younger than I am, and I almost certainly look every bit of my 56 years (even typing it hurts), but inside my head I am still 21. Her offer of assistance was given to what, in her mind, was an old man struggling to carry his meager groceries, probably containing cat food, bought with his social security check. “Sir” was the polite equivalent to “old-timer.”

Of course the “sir” thing happens all the time now. Most of the time I like it. Young people in New York (far less rude than those in Connecticut) often offer to hold open a door, or let me through the subway turnstyle first. Waiters routinely call me “sir” to show they think an old guy like me might be burning through the last of his pension and therefore willing to be a big tipper, while waitresses often call me “hon” or something similar, the way you might address your addled uncle who wants to regale you with stories of the good old days when gas was a quarter and album covers were cool.

I accept that I am well into eligibility for AARP, that I live off a pension, and that stairs sometimes make my knees bark. But I sure don’t like feeling like an old man. So most of the time I just don’t think about it. And then somebody goes ahead and calls me “sir.”

Sunday, November 27, 2011

I am getting pretty sick and tired of this whole “99 percent thing.” I have no idea why the Occupy movement thinks the world breaks down between the top one percent and the rest of us. I suggest that a closer look at income shows the distinctions are far more complex than these idiots use to sell their swill.

I assume when they rail against the top one percent they mean by net worth. According to the New York Times, the bottom of the top one percent is worth over $19 million. That is a lot of money, but I suggest, the people who are worth $19 million dollars have very little in common with Occupy Wall Street hero Steve Jobs, whose net worth was estimated at over $8 billion in 2010. I am not suggesting a net worth of $19 million is insignificant, but I am sure a lot of that wealth for many millionaires is tied up in a family business. Those at the bottom of the one percent do not take private jets, control voting shares in publicly held companies, or manipulate commodities prices. Most of them, I bet, are very well off, probably working-class people who struck it big by working hard and being smart.

Looking at the top one percent by income is even more revealing. The 99th percentile income is a little over $500,000. Now half a million dollars a year is nothing to scoff at, and is obviously a significant multiple of anything I have ever made. (I guess that puts me in the 99 percent the Occupiers want to help.) But really, does making $500,000 put wage earners in the same class as say the chairman of General Electric who has made at least 10 times that amount in each of the past three years? Or to put it in terms I can relate to, the bottom of the top one percent is Brett Gardner, the top is A-Rod.

I suggest that someone making $500,000 a year (especially in New York where the prices are absurd) has a lot more in common than the average Occupy Wall Street protestor, than their phony supporters Graham Nash and Alec Baldwin. Well-paid wage earners still worry about their retirement, probably take the subway, and wonder how they will pay for private schools. Of course they have many more resources than most of us, but I expect their lives in many respects are more middle-class than first class.

Any movement that wants to put a wage earner, even a high one who makes $500,000, in the same group as Warren Buffet is either being deliberately obtuse or selling sophistry. So while their watchword of “We are the 99 percent” is catchy and makes for good headlines, and I suppose, makes it easy to chant outside the windows of people trying to sleep, it completely obscures real life.

It is always a little difficult to criticize the philosophy of this “movement” because they pride themselves on having none. Without taking a stand on anything, except being against a plethora of world woes from hunger, to war, to “corporate greed,” to excessive tuition, to police brutality, they allow themselves to criticize hard-working members of the 99 percent, like police officers and government servants, but deify Mark Zuckerberg. Most of us in the 99 percent, while acknowledging the world is not perfect and that corporations often abuse their power and need regulation, do not think the answer is some vague “movement” with no answers, no solutions, no desire to seek solutions, and which appears to exist at this point only to allow those who have their own agendas (anarchists, college students, hipster singers, bleeding hearts, and the chronically unemployed to name a few) a chance to get media attention by causing problems for the very people they profess to want to help.

One of the Philadelphia protestors in today’s New York Times said he wanted to move to a high profile spot after they get evicted from their current location so “a lot more of the right kind of people get annoyed.” I assume the “right kind of people” are the one percent. No desire to get across a message, make a point, offer any solutions. Their agenda is the same as your irritant child whining about having to clean his room. In the meantime significant public dollars are being expended to control their behavior. I am sure convicted felons like David Crosby are very proud.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

So, Black Friday has come and gone and at least no one got killed this year. There were fights, pepper spray incidents, robberies, and disgruntled employees, but unlike 2008 everyone seems to have survived.

I have not seen the sales figures, but perhaps this game of chicken where retailers, primarily the Wal-Marts and Best Buys of the country, race to open earlier and earlier was a smashing success. I guess thousands of people left their Thanksgiving meals and families to race through the dark to the overcrowded parking lot of their local (or perhaps distant) shopping mall to secure their $200 HD tvs and $14.88 waffle irons.

For the life of me I can’t imagine waking up early or staying up late and fighting those masses to save a few hundred bucks. Even a few thousand. Now admittedly I am not the matriarch of a family of dozens of relatives for each of whom I need a unique present while shopping on a budget because the local factory cut me down to 20 hours a week two years ago, leaving me neither eligible for unemployment nor able to pay all my bills. I am sure for many, many people the savings which occur on Black Friday (or I guess the ever-darkening hours of Thursday) can make the difference between a satisfactory holiday or one with presents so meager they only offer reminders of how bleak the financial situation really is. Still, I cannot understand why those same bargains offered during normal business hours couldn’t provide the same satisfaction.

But I doubt most Black Friday shoppers are those for whom the difference between $14.88 and regular price on a waffle iron.(about $35) makes or breaks their finances. I bet for most shoppers this becomes more sport than saving. They want to stroll into work on Monday and proclaim themselves winners of Black Friday because they bought a $200 Ann Taylor dress for $120. Best Buy’s commercial where the woman shows her list to an employee seemingly asking for help, but only to show him that she got everything—“Bam” she exclaims like a football player celebrating a first down (and don’t get me started on that)—reflects the sporting atmosphere of this entire process. I doubt most people buying the $200 televisions have no television now. They probably bought a $500 tv last year and felt great when it was marked down from $2000.

Meanwhile, an employee of Target in Omaha has become somewhat of a folk hero for refusing to work on Thanksgiving night. His willingness to risk termination for standing up against what has been portrayed as a Scooge-like big company had him turn to change.org, the website which hosts all kinds of online petitions whining about bank fees or innocent prisoners or bull-burning in Spain. Of course, these are the same kind of complaints the Occupy Wall Street protestors have. See something you don’t like, blame a big corporation and throw a temper tantrum which is little more than a more sophisticated version of a two-year-old stomping his feet and pounding his fists.

I suggest that, while I sympathize with his message that there is no earthly reason Target needs to be open at 10 p.m. on Thanksgiving, his complaint should not rest with the company actually which provides him a living, but with those who reward the stores for this behavior. (I should point out this guy was not being torn away from his children, he just wanted to sleep. He is married but childless. Maybe I should also point out that despite his degree from Park University in Missouri ((??)) he earns his living working as a shopping cart attendant at Target and a printing supervisor at OfficeMax. I doubt he would be very difficult to replace with another graduate of an esteemed institution or perhaps a high school dropout.)

A truism of capitalism is that businesses will take actions (by and large) which make them the most money. Target opened at 10 p.m. because they believed customers would arrive at 10 to start their overindulgent shopping shortly after their overindulgent eating (which might actually work off a few calories). Had they opened the doors to find the parking lot empty and their employees with nothing to do, our Target hero would have no need to file a petition asking to get to bed at a reasonable hour. Only because thousands of people are willing, even demanding, to shop at what for the rest of the year would be seen as ungodly hours, do the stores pander to this ridiculousness.

This is just another example of people blaming businesses for trying to maximize profits by giving people what they want, when the problem lies with the customers themselves. If you want Target to open at 8 a.m. convince people not to shop until then. (If you want to stop paying $6.50 for a hot dog at the ballgame, convince people to stop buying them for that price.) But no one wants to criticize the consumer. After all that is us. And in America we never blame ourselves for anything. We rarely even engage in critical self-analysis. (Except for some of us who seemingly do nothing else.) Black Friday has become the spectacle it has because American shoppers made it that way.

To paraphrase Cassius:
“The fault lies not in our stores, but in ourselves.”

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Like everyone, on Thanksgiving Day I want to reflect on everything I am thankful for. The transition to living on the east coast has been a challenge, and I sincerely miss so many people but I am thankful I have been able to try something new.

I am most thankful, of course for my daughter Meg and the person she has grown up to be. I am glad to be living near her, which allows us to spend time together. Saturday night we go to Madison Square Garden to watch my alma mater, Boston University play hockey. I am also thankful for Meg’s mom, who not only was a wonderful mother, but who allowed me to be part of Meg’s life without any hesitation, and who is still a great friend.

I am thankful for my brother Mark and his wife Sue who let me crash at their home for 10 days, and who have invited me to visit them in Orlando, an invitation I plan to accept in the depths of a northeast winter.

I am thankful for my friend Susan in Florida who has kept me sane (or at least not totally insane) during this entire odyssey.

I am thankful for the app Words with Friends which allows me to keep in touch with my regular opponents, Candace, Nicole (although she is not very diligent), and Annie (who I only knew as Ann but who is much more fun as Annie).

I am thankful that modern cell phone technology allows me to make unlimited phone calls around America so I can talk regularly with so many people, primarily my best friend Noel, without whom I would be completely out of touch with is happening in Denver.

I am thankful that I still feel pretty good, especially because my health insurance has not transferred yet.

I am thankful that Sony sells great electronics for reasonable prices, including my blue-ray player through which I can connect to Netflix, YouTube, and Hulu. This never ceases to amaze me. Believe me, when you live in an area where you really don’t know anybody entertainment is important.

I am thankful for Michele and Rob, who allowed me to stay with them my last night in Denver, and who continue to provide support. I am thankful they are the kind of police officers every other officer should aspire to be. The Lakewood Police Department is fortunate to employ these fine people

I am thankful for all the wonderful people I used to work with in Jeffco. I miss you guys, especially Eva Wilson, who put up with me for four years when most people would have accepted at least one of my 100 resignations. (I try and try to call you Eva but you are never at your desk.)

I am thankful for all my friends who are on the bench. If friends are the family you pick for yourself, I feel like royalty. I am also thankful for Governor Hickenlooper who appointed Brian Boatright to the Supreme Court. If I had any regrets about leaving the practice of law it would be that I don’t practice law in a state where Brian Boatright is on the Supreme Court.

I am thankful for PERA, without which I could not have made the changes I have made. While this has been difficult I don’t regret retiring from the practice of law or leaving Colorado. The time had come.

Following up on the above, I am thankful for Pete Weir, who offered me the chance to work for CDAC in a great job (while he was there, at least) which afforded me the chance to get PERA. Along those lines I am grateful for Bob Russel, Mike Goodbee, and Mark Randall who saved my career at times when it looked like I would be unable to find any work. And to Scott Storey who took a chance which did not exactly pay off the way he expected, but who allowed me to keep working for him when it would have been easier to let me go.

I am thankful for Tom Raynes, who still takes my calls. Every prosecutor in Colorado should be thankful that Tom is CDAC director.

I am thankful for the TKTS booth which allows me to see Broadway shows for half price, which is still outrageous, but at least makeable.

I am thankful for my iPhone, iPod, and iPad. I know this makes me shallow.

I am thankful for everyone who reads my blogs, especially my one subscriber Amy. Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

The Occupy Wall Street movement has not severely impacted me since I got to New York. I have avoided lower Manhattan, and pretty much hoped the cold and wet weather would chase them away. I have no use for anarchy, mob rule, structureless protest, or pointless demonstrations. However, they are now causing me a problem.

I was planning to go to New York tomorrow to spend some time with Meg. She is busy and we have to coordinate our time together around her schedule. (This is no problem for me as I have no schedule.) Tomorrow looked like perhaps the best day of the week. But when I turned on the news this morning I was told that Occupy Wall Street plans to disrupt the entire city tomorrow. First they had planned a march on Wall Street, but like angry hornets, now that their home has been shaken up, they plan to flex their muscle by inconveniencing millions. They did the same thing a month or so ago by trying to take over the Brooklyn Bridge. Now I hear that they plan, as I predicted in a blog months ago, to take over subway lines.

The subway trains are pretty crowded as it is. Most travel in New York City is by subway. People like Meg, or me when I am in town, have no realistic alternative in most cases. Taxis are busy and expensive and buses are subject to the vagaries of traffic. Very few people own cars, and fewer still drive in Manhattan. Subway cars are crowded, and I get a seat only about half the time. In rush hour it is not uncommon for a train to be too full to accommodate everyone who wants to ride. It would not take very many OWS protestors, who seem to have nothing better to do, to overwhelm a particular subway route and basically keep thousands of people from getting home at night, arriving before the curtain goes up for a Broadway show, or making it to work on time.

Of course, these protestors, who claim to be supporting the “99 percent” of working Americans and against the top one percent, would be hurting only those they claim to want to help. The top one percent does not ride the subway. The bottom one percent is certainly on there, as are most of the working people in New York. Their plan, then, has nothing to do with sending a message to those they decry, but is a particularly offensive way to grab headlines.

I wish I could put into words my thoughts about this “movement.” It seems it is primarily made up of coddled young people, idealistic liberals, and misguided and frustrated unemployed. The entire “we pride ourselves on having no solutions” thing strikes me as stupid. If you are going to protest some vague sense of inequity in America (or maybe the world) but you have no plan to change things, then how can you ever hope to achieve change? Not only do they have no goals, no plan, no model, not even any leaders, their complaints are more the ramblings than statements. They are against a lot of stuff, and seem to be for very little. They are supposed to be unified in their problems with big corporations, but they use Facebook with their iPhones to communicate.

Apple is, I believe, the second most-capitalized company in the world, but apparently it are ok with OWS because Apple is cool. That the iPhones they treasure are made in what are little more than sweatshops in China seems not to bother them. Or that Zuckerberg is in the top one percent of the top one percent of the top one percent, causes them no heartburn. (Forbes has him at the 14th richest person in a world of seven billion, which puts him in the top .000000002 percent.)

During the World Series one of their number opined that: “You should be able to watch the World Series without supporting a corporation.” Seriously? Have they noticed the names on the stadiums? Four games were played in Busch Stadium. How about the athletes? How many of them are in the 99 percent? Or how about the commercials? This was ok, according to this protestor because they boo the commercials. Boo all you want. Fox was tallying viewers, not supporters.

A couple of weeks ago, David Crosby and Graham Nash, convicted felons, showed up at Zuccotti Park to support the occupiers. They record for Atlantic Records, owned by Warner Music Group, which was purchased by Access Industries for $3.3 billion. Strikes me as a big corporation. According to the website Celebrity Net Worth, by the way, David Crosby is worth $40 million. They did not have Nash’s net worth but he has four homes in California and one in Hawaii. I doubt either Crosby or Nash took the subway.

So tomorrow I may not go to New York. I may have to stay in Stamford watching a bunch of idiots disrupt my life, and to a much large degree the lives of millions of others.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Smokin’ Joe Frazier died the other day and his death has prompted a great outpouring of grief among the media members who knew him. Frazier was the heavyweight champion of the world for two years in the early ‘70s, and is best remembered for his three brutal fights against Muhammad Ali. The first, on March 8, 1971, was called the “Fight of the Century,” and is still remembered as the first fight Ali lost. But for me, the memory of that fight is a personal one. It was the last public event I went to with my mother.

No, we did not fly to New York to catch the fight in Madison Square Garden. My parents and I watched it on closed-circuit television from a decrepit building called the Chicago Coliseum. We did not have pay-per-view television in the pre-cable era. For big events you had to go to some sort of arena or theater and watch a large television screen with thousands of others. Many sporting events were televised this way. Owners and promoters had not yet caught on that televising events increased their popularity. Even as late as the ‘70s they still feared local television would hurt live attendance. After all, to this day the NFL will black out any local game which is not sold out. As a child I remember that home Bears games were never broadcast and when we moved into a high rise when I was 13, we were excited that if the weather was good sometimes we could pull in the South Bend station which was outside the blackout zone.

This rule held true even for the playoffs. My father, brother and I went to old McCormick place (the one that burned down) in 1963 to see the Bears beat the New York Giants to win the NFL Championship. Of course this was before the Super Bowl and the game was held on the home field of the team with the best record. The Bears hosted the game at Wrigley Field, and the only way for us to see it was on closed-circuit.

By 1971, boxing had caught on that a great deal of money could be made selling tickets remotely for championship bouts. It is hard to imagine now how big boxing was at that time. In the ‘20s boxing was the biggest sport on the planet. Jack Dempsey made almost a million dollars one year, when Babe Ruth was legendary for making $80,000. The title “Heavyweight Champion of the World” was still revered in 1971. There was still only a single champion, unlike today’s hodgepodge of sanctioning bodies. Boxing was considered the “sweet science” a tactical and athletic contest rather than a mere slugfest.

The saga of Muhammad Ali had captured the nation. First, while still Cassius Clay, he won an Olympic gold medal (Frazier won one too). He knocked out the thug Sonny Liston to win the title in an upset, and then his stunning first round knockout of Liston in the rematch made him the talk of America. Ali danced like a welterweight and talked like P.T. Barnum. His brash self-promotion attracted many and turned off many others. I remember my brother bought a record of the young champ where he recited his own poetry pretty much calling himself the greatest fighter who ever lived, although he was not yet 25 years old.

Not only did he alienate, and even frighten much of America with his conversion to Islam in 1964, but his refusal to be drafted and the subsequent stripping of his title was a significant subplot of the Vietnam War. While in exile Ali lived in Chicago, I believe. I remember my father once pointing out a modest home not far from ours on the south side which he claimed was Ali’s residence. I don’t know if that was true.

Being pretty conservative from a family of Vietnam hawks, I had a strong dislike of Ali. His braggadocio rubbed me the wrong way, and his refusal to serve his country was dishonorable I thought. Still, his return to the ring was exciting, and the fight against Frazier transcended a mere sporting event. It was the biggest happening in America. Celebrities flocked to the event.

I have absolutely no memory of whose idea it was for us to watch the fight. I am guessing it was my mom’s. She was very sick by this point, bedridden most of the time. She had already been diagnosed as terminally ill, and died only a couple of months later. I bet she decided she wanted to be part of this despite her illness. She walked slow and was clearly in pain on the hard folding chair, but she never complained.

The Chicago Coliseum was literally falling apart. It was condemned later that year. But it was close to home. Seats were set up on the floor of the arena in addition to the fixed seats and it was full. Most of the crowd was black and strong Ali supporters. As a Frazier backer I watched primarily in silence. We had seats on the floor. The screen towered over us.

The atmosphere in the Coliseum was almost as electric as being there in person. The fans were boisterous, and unabashed in their support of Ali. With each punch the crowd cheered loudly. I can’t recall the fight specifically, but I will never forget the feeling of being at the event. The fight itself was a 15-round classic. Both fighters had good rounds and certainly the result was in doubt the entire time. When Frazier knocked Ali down thousands of people let out an audible gasp. I cheered inwardly. The entire experience was a thrill.

My mom’s condition deteriorated quickly after that, and I don’t recall discussing the fight with her, but I am happy that I still have the program. There is something special about having a family memory tied into a big event. Every time I read about the fight or the fighters I smile.

Friday, November 11, 2011

What has most struck me about the coverage of the child sexual assault scandal at Penn State is the complete lack of understanding on the part of the media about the dynamics of child sexual assaults. Mike and Mike in the morning has focused on this tragedy extensively, and they are completely at a loss to understand how members of the athletic department at Penn State could know damning details and yet fail to instigate direct action like calling the police themselves. How naive they are.

I do not have extensive experience with child sexual assaults, but I have been around the edges of their prosecution enough to know it is very common that everyone around the perpetrator engages in denial. Nobody wants to believe their friend, colleague, co-worker, boss, relative, or neighbor engages in this most-vile crime. And even if they believe, they really want no part of bringing it into the open and prosecuting the matter. The visceral disgust with this evil makes everyone want to run the other way. So I completely understand why graduate assistant McQueary, now promoted to coach, was satisfied with making a report to the legend Joe Paterno, and feeling his obligation ended there. The media has been all over this guy for why he didn’t take it upon himself to call the police. They just don’t have any concept about the dynamics of this situation.

Similarly, I can understand why Paterno felt that his cursory report to higher-ups was sufficient response. He is a football coach, nothing more. Whether criminal investigation is necessary is something he does not want to contemplate. A quick report to someone in power and he is done, and can go back to working on developing a game plan, arranging a schedule, speaking to the media, or arranging a visit to some oversized high school kid’s house to tell his parents how Penn State is the answer to their family’s prayers. The idea that his locker room not only shelters a disgusting pervert, but hosts the despicable behavior is not something Paterno wanted to dwell upon.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not approving of these reactions, but I have some glimmer of understanding, in ways the media seems not to, how everyone involved wanted to merely get Sandusky away from them and move on. People want to pass the buck in this situation because anything more drags them deeply into something they don’t even want to acknowledge exists. We have seen this reaction to sexual perversion regularly. School officials denying what students report, for example, or clergy members merely moving a perverted priest to another parish while shuffling the victim off to religious counseling. It is more common than not that a mother will deny their her child’s outcry that daddy is putting his thing in her mouth. Doing more means scrutiny, involvement with a justice system most people try to avoid, and ultimately confronting their own insecurities about how evil lived with them and they never knew it.

Sure, we would all like to believe that when confronted with something that needs reporting we will do the right thing. But when it comes to child sexual assaults denial is a strong reaction; or if not denial, doing the minimum and telling yourself it is out of your hands. McQueary could have called the police himself. Doing so would have risked everything he had at the moment—a graduate assistant position leading to what probably was his dream job, coaching football at his alma mater. Castigating him for failing to be more aggressive makes Mike Golic look like a champion of the victim, but displays ignorance of the world of child sexual assaults.

Do I think McQuery should have called the cops? Sure. Would I expect him to? No. I would have expected more from Joe Pa, but looked what he risked. The consequences for his reporting were not much different from what ultimately happened to him for not reporting. I suggest that in his mind the arrest of Sandusky would have been tantamount to Paterno’s termination and the destruction of his program. Of course, now Paterno is tainted with his inaction, but like most people, I bet he thought some words to the perp would be enough for this behavior to stop.

Few people understand pedophilia. I doubt the Penn State administrators understood that failure to act aggressively against Sandusky could only result in more victims. So many people think pedophilia is a disease like the flu which can be cured with some minor intervention. They told him to stop, they probably figured he would.

Whatever they were thinking, they for sure wanted no part of any kind of prosecution. And when the local DA declined charges I am sure they felt the issue was closed. Whatever ole Jerry was up to in the shower room was not criminal, or at least not prosecutable, so they turned the page and moved on.

Many questions have been asked about why the long-lost DA declined to prosecute. (Isn’t that the strangest twist in a bizarre story?) Of course, we don’t know exactly was presented to him. What has been called a confession I think was merely an admission Sandusky showered with the boy, but not a confession to sexual activity. That may have been enough to support proseuction, depending on what other information the DA had, but perhaps not. I don’t know how much experience that office had with crimes against children, but I know when I first started screening cases in the ‘80s I had no idea how to size up an allegation of this kind. I routinely rejected cases which seemed to be no more than a child’s accusation denied by a respected adult. Only through the advent of specialized units did the prosecution of child sex assault advance sufficiently to know how to evaluate a filing of this nature. Even so, most child sex assault prosecutors accept that many of these cases will result in acquittals, for the same reason no one wants to report them—juries don’t want to believe an upstanding member of the community forms a charity for children as a ruse to get them alone so he can assault them. But accepting a case against a highly-placed football coach in the county where Penn State football reigns supreme would not be something a prosecutor would want to do without strong proof. The alternative is a horrible, drawn-out process resulting in an acquittal which may help no one. Let’s not forget the impact of a prosecution like this on the victim, even a child victim.

All in all it added up to years of abuse by Sandusky.

What outrages me much more than McQueary’s and Paterno’s inactions is the perjury committed by the Penn State officials. The media seems to ignore this. Of course we have gotten used to misconduct by athletes and the cover-up of that behavior by athletic organizations. Still, lying to a grand jury is a serious matter. It got Barry Bonds a federal felony conviction and Bill Clinton the second impeachment trial in U.S. history. Golic cannot seem to channel his outrage against these men who not only failed to act, but deliberately lied to the authorities trying to get it right. I guess he gets no props from his supporters for merely standing up for the rule of law. In truth I like Golic, but I think sometimes he, and Greenberg, too, choose to opine on matters of which they know little. I guess that is the job of a talk show host. And frankly their so-called legal “experts” help them very little. This morning some attorney suggested that the reason McQueary has kept his job is that the state attorney general, who is prosecuting this case, told Penn State to keep him employed because he is the star witness. Seriously? Mike and Mike bought this conspiracy-theory mentality because who doesn’t like a good government manipulation of a situation? I guarantee no prosecutor would take such an action, in large part because it would undermine McQueary’s credibility as a witness.

So I will watch this drama play out, but I will be glad when Mike and Mike get back to fawning over the Jets and Notre Dame (which also is annoying, but at least is within their bailiwick) and making sophomoric predictions for the weekend’s football action.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

I got a taste today of why everyone hates the government. I was directed to the local Department of Motor Vehicle office in the neighboring town of Norwalk. In Connecticut the same office, I was told, handles driver’s licenses and license plates. I figured I could take care of both changes at the same time. I knew it might take a while, but I had no idea of what the situation is like here.

The line was to the door when I walked in. I could see this was for the “information” desk where everyone seemed to be starting. Although there were stations to take care of business on both sides of the desk, the signs were not very helpful so everyone seemed to have to start at the information desk, where there was only a single clerk. Most people in line were just as confused as I was. After standing there for several minutes I noticed a sign saying that if you were just there for a driver’s license you could move to another line. I did so. Although there was only a single person ahead of me when I got to the front of the line the clerks ignored me.

After I made my presence known one of the clerks kept repeating “Are you here for license plates? The line for license plates starts at the information booth.” Without waiting for an answer he turned away. Finally I said “You answered my question before I answered yours, and I am here for a driver’s license.” He then said the other clerk, who was sitting there staring at his computer, would help me. Finally, that clerk asked what I was there for, and when I told him I had moved from another state, he heaved a big sigh and said, no, they no longer handled license transfers at this office. He pulled out a packet of information. The top sheet was a list of offices which do, in fact, issue new licenses. The next was a form to fill out. Finally, he whipped through the information on the final sheet of paper, which was a list of the documents I will need to get a Connecticut driver’s license. I had not thought about the homeland security requirements but I should have realized no one can just walk up and get a license anymore.

First, I will need a primary identification document. My passport or birth certificate will do. Then I need two original documents to prove my Connecticut residency. My lease, I guess will not work. I need a computer-generated bill from a bank, mortgage company, utility, credit card company, doctor, or hospital. Too bad I just paid my bills and threw them out. So I have no such documents now. I have not opened a local bank account so I don’t have a bank statement, and I have no W-2 forms or pay stub. I am not on Medicaid or Medicare. I guess if you don’t have a job they are not too interested in you. Finally I need either my social security card or a recent W-2 form. Needless to say I did not get a Connecticut license today. I will have to wait for more mail, I guess. I think I have everything else.

As I left I could see the people in line ahead of me were still waiting for the information booth. I am sure they were there for hours. I will now be more prepared when I find the office in Bridgeport, Danbury, or Waterbury which can issue me a license.

It is not only the hassle of providing the forms, I get that, but the rudeness of the clerks. I appreciate they are busy and there are many, many people they need to wait on, but this kind of attitude seems unnecessary. I heard others also frustrated by this attitude. I had traveled to New York many times and encountered clerks who were not gregarious, but not rude. Unfortunately, this is not the first time I have dealt with this attitude. Twice when I called the cable company I had to ask for a supervisor because the first person was rude and unhelpful. The supervisors were fine, so I don’t think it was me. I know all of this is part of my adjustment to living in a different part of the country, but I am surprised by it.

By the way, did you see Herman Cain is now doing the typical defendant response, attack the victim. The way he explains it lying women just keep coming forward. He must be an extraordinarily unlucky man to have so many women lying about him. None of the other candidates seem to have this problem.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011

Today was a beautiful day in New York, so I took advantage of maybe the last warm day of the year to go to Central Park. I love Central Park. There is a reason it is iconic. Not only is it massive, several miles from north to south, but it is filled with different sections, each with its own personality. The park was crowded today, despite it being a weekday. There are so many people in New York and lots of them either don’t work (like me) or work shifts other than 8-5 Monday through Friday, so that even on weekdays everything is busy.

I spent a long time at my favorite place in the park, the Bethesda Terrace. I have blogged about this spot before, but the combination of the lake, the heavily-wooded Ramble beyond, and the fountain make this a very relaxing spot. It is very popular with tourists, and there was a steady stream of people the entire time I sat there. Lots of boats were on the lake, and the trees which had not been damaged by last week’s storm were brightly colored.

The unusual weather for November led to the incongruous circumstance that on my way to basking in the sun by the fountain, I passed the skating rink. It is always funny to see people ice skating in t-shirts. Not many were on the ice today, more chose to enjoy the last vestiges of summer, rather than the precursor of winter. Soon enough Central Park will be mostly empty, crowds gathering only near the skating rink, the zoo, or the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the interior given over to snow and ice.

The effects of the October blizzard were still visible. Tree trimmers worked on removing some of the damaged branches, as the sounds of chain saws competed with the musicians who use Central Park as their workspace. One woman by the lake played her harp. I don’t mean a little lyre like you see in Greek statues, I mean a full-sized harp. How she got it all the way onto the Bethesda Terrace is beyond me. Even on wheels the thing would be unwieldy. I am no harp fan so I did not contribute any money, but I was impressed with her effort. Nearby an off-key singer wailed away with his guitar, while in the famous tunnel under the street where the acoustics are supposed to be so great, a group sang Christmas carols. Far superior I thought was the saxophone player a few hundred yards away.

I met Meg for lunch at Whole Foods where we had eaten some excellent sushi previously. This time I was not favorably impressed. The sushi was fair, although that is perhaps the nicest Whole Foods I have ever seen. They serve a great deal of prepared food, in a hot bar, a salad bar, and a dessert bar, and to order. In addition the store is huge and well-stocked.

After lunch Meg and I went to a place for dessert which I had found in one of my New York guidebooks. It was a short walk from Whole Foods into Soho. I had a delicious pastry called a bombolini filled with vanilla crème (no comments on the health thing) and Meg had what she described as an excellent apple fritter. Best of all, these were by New York standards inexpensive. I was pleased to have found a new place. That is part of my plan for living in New York; to explore the city in ways I never would as a tourist. I am pulling out my guidebooks to plan excursions. Meg and I are going to spend a day next week doing something we have never done before. New York I am sure has many interesting and surprising places, and I want to check them out.

If you have any ideas for me, please let me know. I will keep everyone up to date through my blogs.

Monday, November 07, 2011

I am not a political junkie. In fact I get pretty sick of the news coverage of electoral politics which treat the candidates like athletic figures and the election like a sporting event, complete with partial scores, expert handicapping, and celebrity worshippers. But these last few days the saga of Herman Cain has caught my attention and reminds me of my old job.

Cain, whose campaign at first seemed to be more Don Quixote than Ronald Reagan, was surging in the polls, and apparently gaining momentum as an outsider with fresh ideas. ("Fresh" should not be confused with "smart", "effective" or "savvy.") Frankly, I have not spent a lot of time watching the battle for the Republican nomination as I am not a registered Republican and therefore not eligible to vote in their primary. (I am not a Democrat either but of course there is no contest for the Democratic presidential nomination.) But I do read the news every day and it has been filled with allegations coming out daily about Cain’s sexual improprieties. A fourth woman leveled allegations today.

The candidate has not been entirely consistent in his responses, first denying any knowledge of the accusations, then admitting that his organization did pay off one of his accusers. He has denied everything else. Now he is simply stonewalling questions, a strategy others have employed and rarely to good effect. His silence is deafening.

As more women come forward I can’t help but be reminded of the prosecution of sex offenders. Powerful evidence in those cases is the admission of other acts, commonly known as 404(b) based upon the rule of evidence allowing admissibility. Trial judges by and large dislike 404(b) evidence, generally feeling it unfairly allows the prosecution to convict a man (and the defendants in virtually all of these adults sex assaults are men, notwithstanding Kari Quevli’s prosecution of a woman for raping an unwilling man by giving him some over-the-counter Viagra substitute) based upon his commission of other crimes, a significant violation of a defendant’s rights.

Appellate courts, on the other hand often see the bigger picture. I remember a Colorado case from several years ago where the Court of Appeals, I believe through Judge Steve Bernard, a former Adams County Assistant District Attorney, upheld the use of prior sexual assaults as proof. The opinion, completely based on common sense, held that when the same thing happens over and over, the likelihood of it being a mere coincidence is diminished. Or as Bernard wrote, “A man who wins the lottery once is congratulated; a man who wins twice is investigated.”

Where multiple women come forward and level the same allegations against a man, the odds go up that they are telling the truth. Might four women lie about Herman Cain? Sure. Obviously, the kind of publicity and potential financial benefit for lying about a wealthy presidential candidate are much greater than for lying about some poor college student, but that does not mean these women’s stories should be dismissed out of hand. If we had a rape case with four 404(b) victims we would feel it was a very strong case. Men who mistreat women, especially those who engage in inappropriate sexual behavior, do so repeatedly because they don’t see that behavior as wrong.

When I was prosecuting a rape case where the defendant had forced himself on his ex-girlfriend in front of her three-year-old child, I was struck by how the defendant acted outside the courtroom with his current girlfriend. His treatment of her as an object was apparent, reflecting his attitude about his view of a woman’s place in his life. The jury never saw this and ultimately the defendant was acquitted. But I have never harbored any doubt of his guilt.

Maybe Cain is the victim of a bunch of lying publicity seekers. Maybe. After all, it was not too long ago that a Democratic candidate for president was accused of sexual misconduct. He got elected. He got impeached. Now his is the most highly-sought after speaker in the world. So who knows?

Sunday, November 06, 2011

Yesterday I went to the Whitney Museum of American Art. The Whitney is a pretty small museum, but I think it has one of the most interesting collections. I went primarily to see their retrospective on art from the 30s and 40s, but I was captivated by sculpture from their collection created by an artist I had never heard of named David Smith. Smith created abstract art on a large scale. His pieces are hard to describe. He used geometric shapes often, and painted many of the pieces. The one I liked the most, however, was small, maybe three feet high. It was simple and elegant, just a few pieces of metal representing "Lonesome Man." I think it is great. I spent a long time in that gallery.

One of the main reasons I moved to New York was to go to world class art museums. There are so many here, and they are always having special exhibits. Of course, the Metropolitan Museum of Art is huge and I can only see a small part when I go there, but places like the Whitney are fascinating.

The Whitney is on the upper east side, known for expensive homes and over-the-top shopping. Near the Whitey I passed a small store displaying framed photographs of famous figures. Photos of Abraham Lincoln and Vivien Leigh caught my eye. When I stared through the window I could see this was a store selling historical documents and autographs. Inside the walls were covered with frames. In addition to Leigh and Lincoln (imagine, a signed letter from Abe Lincoln) they had some sort of military document signed by George Washington. I wanted to go in, but felt it would be somehow inappropriate to enter without the actual ability to buy anything. (I suppose I could buy perhaps an autograph of George W. Bush if I sold my car.)

As I left the museum and walked south on Madison Avenue I passed stores for Gucci, Prada, Coach, Ralph Lauren , Donna Karan, and Vera Wang. I walked past art galleries selling Miro paintings and jewelry stores glittering with diamonds. Heck, even the food places were impressive—Godiva Chocolates, for example. The experience made me feel inadequate. Of course, I was far too intimidated to enter these establishments; I almost felt like I was trespassing just walking on their sidewalk. To see a piece of art being sold which is several times your highest annual salary is humbling. At the curb were parked a wide variety of Lexuses, Infinitis, and BMWs. The children in the $500 strollers wore clothes from Saks Fifth Avenue, and the women wore boots which cost about the same as my rent. All in all it made me want to win the lottery, write a bestseller, or marry a rich widow.

I indulged both my inner child and my nagging sweet tooth with a visit to Dylan’s Candy Bar. Dylan is Ralph Lauren’s daughter. She came up with the brilliant idea of opening a giant candy store, charging outrageous upper east side prices (about 50 percent more than buying the same candy elsewhere), making it chic and planting it in the middle of the most expensive real estate in America. It works. The place is packed with excited kids and indulging adults. I filled a bag full of sweets from glass bowls, just like I did from the local candy store when I was a kid, all the time thinking this is the ideal environment to spread disease, while wondering what pina colada licorice tastes like. (Really good.) I put over a pound of that junk first into a plastic bag and then into my mouth, where I am sure it will reappear in that bulge lapping over my belt. I don’t know what possessed me to spend far too much money on something which is, in essence, slow-working poison. I chalk it up to my desire for a “New York experience.”

At least I walked a lot. A store I had never heard of called Uniqlo has saturated New York with advertising. They even had the turnstyles as Grand Central covered in their ads. The store hawks cold-weather clothing with “Heattech” technology from Japan. Being a sucker for advertising and facing a cold New England winter, I bought myself a Heattech undershirt. I wore it today and it seems to work pretty well.

On the way back to Grand Central I ran into a street fair. They have these every weekend in New York where they will block off large sections of streets and fill them with booths selling gyros, cheap sunglasses, shirts containing LED displays which dance to music, and pashminas. I ran into a street fair last weekend and I think it was basically the same sellers. I bought a piece of grilled corn on the cob which was both smaller and less-tasty than the ones I annually bought at the Taste of Colorado. I should have gone for the Italian sausage or perhaps some shish-ka-bob. Still, I had a New York experience—paying too much for something.

Friday, November 04, 2011

For those of you who have noticed that I have not blogged in a while, I am fine. Thank you, Candace for calling. There is nothing wrong with me. I am adjusting to how different life is in the east. I , of course had traveled to New York many times, and went to college in Boston, but either I forgot, or failed to recognize, just how different things are here.

Wednesday provided a good example of both the benefits and frustrations of my new life. On Tuesday I had stopped by a local State Farm insurance office to secure renter’s insurance and to transfer my car insurance. This struck me as a pretty simple thing to do. The woman at the insurance office took my information and said she would get back to me.

On Wednesday she sent an e-mail with my auto insurance quote. It was about $30 higher than my last premium in Denver. I expected it to be higher so this was not remarkable. She went on to inform me that State Farm would not sell me renter’s insurance because I live in a hurricane setback zone. This is a new consideration for State Farm following Hurricane Katrina.

Needless to say I was stunned and angered. Hurricane setback zone? I live in a high rise apartment in downtown Stamford two miles from the nearest beach. Not only are there hundreds of residences closer to the ocean than I am, but there are huge hotels and office buildings within two blocks. Does State Farm refuse to insure all of those? Do they think my apartment on the fifth floor of a 17-story building might be inundated by the kind of floods which struck New Orleans? Stamford is not even on the ocean, but Long Island Sound. Even so, there are two miles of roads, parks, train tracks and buildings between me and the water. Hurricane Irene did hit hard in this part of the country, but it was not the buildings near the coast which were most affected, and certainly not the ones in downtown Stamford. If you recall, areas of Vermont, hundreds of miles from the ocean suffered the most from Hurricane Irene. Even the most recent winter storm last weekend has caused much hardship in Connecticut with downed trees and power outages, none of which affected my neighborhood which has few trees and no overhead power lines. Hurricane setback zone? Seriously? Bullshit.

Now State Farm is a private company and they can do whatever they like. But to arbitrarily declare that downtown Stamford is uninsurable is crap. I am sure the 20-story Marriott hotel at the end of the block is insured. I bet the UBS office down the street can find insurance. And I am willing to bet that the brand-new apartment buildings right on the water I looked at when I first got here found some way to get insured. But little, old Miles can’t get renter’s insurance in his one-bedroom unit in Connecticut because New Orleans, built below sea level, could not rely on its unique levy system to protect it from a category 3 hurricane which drove Gulf of Mexico water into the streets. This probably helps State Farm’s bottom line in some way, but it makes me have some sympathy for the idiots camping out in Zucotti Park. Corporate greed and stupidity.

So for those worried about me, I guess you can add “potential hurricane victim” to the things you worry about, care of State Farm. By the way, I did not transfer my auto insurance. If State Farm rejects one, they reject all. I am sure the loss of my $500 will cause their stock to drop.

However, on Wednesday I also took advantage of my proximity to New York. I rode the train (which was packed both ways) to the city (which is what everyone calls New York here) to catch a Broadway show. I wanted to see Other Desert Cities with Stockard Channing, Judith Light, and Rachel Griffiths, but the TKTS half-price booth had no tickets. Instead I went to The Mountaintop with Samuel L. Jackson as Martin Luther King, also starring Angela Basset. The play is fairly lightweight fare, missing the chance to really provide a message or at least insight into Dr. King. Primarily it is a comedy, punctuated by references to his speeches. I was very disappointed with Jackson. I figured a charismatic actor portraying a charismatic figure would command the stage. Instead he seemed to be trying to show King as a man, rather than a legend, and the effort felt lame to me. Angela Basset on the other hand gave one of the best performances I have ever seen. She did command the stage, mixing humor with poignancy. Her character goes through some changes and finishes with a monologue which is mind-blowing in its length, detail, and the speed with which she delivers it. If she does not win a Tony someone else will have to be very special. Should she win, her part would constitute, I think, the ninth Tony-winning performance I have seen.

Prior to the show I stopped by Madison Square Garden to pick up some hockey tickets to see my alma mater, Boston University play. I was going to buy them online but there were $15 in service charges per ticket. (How do they get away with that?) While in line there were advertisements for Straight No Chaser who are performing in New York later this month. It was strange to be standing in line at Madison Square Garden looking at Don Nottingham staring out at me. I think I am going to try to go. Do you think I can get an autograph?

Anyway, I am going to try to get back to blogging again regularly. Now that I am settled I need to write. At least on days I don’t take the train into the city.

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