I have been meaning to write a blog about the antics of Congressman Weiner.
No need. My daughter, Marybeth Hicks, who writes for the Washington Times, has said it all. (By the way, her third book, entitled "Don't Let The Kids Drink The Kool-Aid: Confronting the Left's Assault on our Families, Faith and Freedom" comes out August 22 from Regnery Publishing. Don't miss it!)
Her column appears in Wednesday's paper. Here it is:
It must be said: Rep. Anthony D. Weiner is what’s wrong with America today.
Once again, when confronted with behavior that clearly speaks to the character of a man’s heart, we’re being asked to accept that he’s not entirely responsible for his actions because of some unspecified “disorder.” (Maybe narcissism, maybe obsessive-compulsive disorder, maybe chronic nerdism; hard to say without a psych assessment.)
There was a time - in low-tech America - when actions like Mr. Weiner’s would have taken place in a park and involved a trench coat. But there I go again, longing for a simpler era when a pervert was a pervert and not necessarily a guy with a condition.
As it is, now that Mr. Weiner has used Twitter to indulge his icky sexual proclivities and yet refuses to resign from his congressional seat, we’re again confronted with the new American reality: You don’t have to suffer the consequences of your actions.
Not just that. Even if you’re as skeevy as yesterday’s sweaty socks, people who like your politics will tolerate your creepiness. To wit: Mr. Weiner maintains the support of the president of the New York chapter of the National Organization for Women, Julie Kirshner. She claims that just because she has learned her congressman is “a 14-year-old boy” doesn’t mean he doesn’t support feminist causes.
Sorry, Ms. Kirshner, but you’re making a big mistake. You can’t simply write Mr. Weiner’s antics off as immature for the purposes of political pragmatism. At least, not without further eroding our national ethos.
Our habit of detaching a person’s behavior from his character is having a deleterious impact on our country, and, at the risk of using hyperbole, is going to be our ultimate undoing. Maybe not in this specific case, as it’s likely the two-week leave of absence that has been granted to Mr. Weiner will turn into an early retirement with well-wishes for a “full recovery.”
No, it’s not Mr. Weiner, but the habit of moral relativism he represents that scares me. The now-familiar pattern - heinous immoral behavior, indignant denial, public humiliation, victimization through disease - is likely a manifestation of our decades-long infatuation with unconditional self-esteem.
Americans are so focused on feeling good about themselves, no matter what abhorrent behavior they put on display, they no longer exhibit the shame that ought to come with wrongdoing. You might say, well, Mr. Weiner must have felt shame because he tried to lie his way out of the mess he created for himself. That was only an effort to cover his … tracks.
No, if he feels shame, he quits Congress. Simple as that. A person of good character knows a congressman would never, could never, do the things Mr. Weiner has done and remain in office. It’s insulting to the office and the constituents he serves, not to mention humiliating for his family and friends.
Which is why this incident doesn’t prove Mr. Weiner is “a 14-year-old boy,” it proves he’s a man without a conscience, and this is what’s wrong with America.
The bad news? It’s only going to get worse.
We already know the next generation of Americans is growing up without a proper moral compass. In its biennial survey of teenagers, the Josephson Institute of Ethics in 2010 once again established the alarming disconnect between the immoral and unethical behavior of our teens - which it describes as “entrenched” - and their positive self-esteem. More than 90 percent say they feel good about their moral and ethical selves despite habitual lying, cheating and stealing.
Can’t wait until they run for Congress.
To be fair, everyone makes mistakes. Actually, to be more accurate, everyone sins. Guilt and remorse are how a well-formed conscience tells us we’ve sinned, and repentance is how we recover and make amends.
But sin has consequences, and in Mr. Weiner’s case, those consequences must be more than therapy.
Reprinted with permission of the Washington Times and the unconditional approval and admiration of her father.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
FIRST WOMAN
In 1983, the New York Times editorial page carried a reference to the “nine men” on the United States Supreme Court.
It earned them a feisty letter to the editor from Sandra Day O’Connor, who at the time had been a Justice for two years. She said that if the President is called POTUS and the Supreme Court given the acronym SCOTUS, she should be known as FWOTSC. Meaning, of course, First Woman On The Supreme Court.
And, to be sure, she was.
On July 1, 2005, after nearly 25 years on the high court, Justice O’Connor announced her intention to retire, effective when her successor would be confirmed. She was succeeded by Samuel Alito on January 31, 2006.
Since then, she has been remarkably busy, teaching, speaking, writing, and occasionally sitting as a lower court federal judge.
One of Justice O’Connor’s pet projects is to promote the improvement of the judiciary, specifically by advocating what is commonly known as ‘merit selection’ of judges.
Typically, merit selection plans are patterned on a law adopted some years ago in Missouri. In fact, the ‘Missouri Plan’ has become short hand for a system in which the Governor appoints judges from a list of candidates nominated by a blue ribbon panel of citizens.
Supposedly, these blue ribbon nominated judges are a cut above the usual elected judges. The Missouri Plan gives the public a chance to oust unpopular judges in a so called ‘retention election.’ The ballot says, Should Judge X be retained? YES or NO.
Justice O’Connor is coming to Michigan next week to lend her support to the efforts of a local Task Force, which is trying to revive the oft defeated efforts to install merit selection in the state.
The people of Michigan have repeatedly expressed their preference for electing judges. Whether Justice O’Connor can light an opposing fire remains to be seen.
Frankly, I would be more interested to know what Justice O’Connor thinks about ‘merit selection’ for the United States Supreme Court.
She has had some things to say which suggest that she is not a fan of the present system.
On July 21, Justice O'Connor spoke to a 9th U.S. Circuit conference and blamed the televising of Senate Judiciary Committee hearings for escalated conflicts over judges. She expressed sadness over attacks on the independent judiciary.
In May 2010, she warned female Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan about the "unpleasant" process of confirmation hearings.
Certainly the selection of United States Supreme Court Justices can hardly be called non-partisan.
Superannuated jurists hang onto their seats waiting for a President of their party to be elected before retiring. Candidates for the Presidency run for office campaigning on promises to appoint this or that kind of judges. The United States Senate convenes a circus of committee hearings to probe, question, expose and often discredit Supreme Court nominees.
If a select committee of citizens is needed to nominate state court judges, why is it not desirable at the highest level? Who vets the people being considered for appointment?
Recently a group of law school professors and deans put together a proposal for reforming the United States Supreme Court. Got me to thinking. Isn’t it time for us to have a non-partisan Supreme Court in America?
Isn’t it time to stop naming Justices because of their party affiliations, partisan connections and political preferences?
The job of the courts is to interpret the constitution and laws so as to give effect to the intention of the people who adopted them. Courts aren’t supposed to make new laws, declare new rights, and ‘modernize’ the constitution.
Judicial service is a high and noble calling. The process of selecting judges should be professional, solemn and free from partisanship.
Here’s what I propose:
The Supreme Court shall consist of the nine present members and their successors, who shall be appointed by the President without confirmation by the Senate, for eighteen year terms, from among a list of five persons nominated by a majority of the Chief Justices of the highest appellate courts of the several states.
This non-partisan amendment would insulate the court from a Rooseveltian court packing. It would provide a truly ‘blue ribbon’ committee of state chief justices who know the law and the constitution, and who are familiar with the leading members of the bar.
It would moderate the present incestuous tendency to appoint law clerks and judges from a select few law schools which are not representative of the people of America or the legal profession in our country.
Sandra Day O’Connor was born in Texas, educated in California and served as a legislator and as an appellate judge in Arizona. While her alma mater, Stanford University is a prestigious institution, it’s a long way from the Atlantic seaboard.
She would be a powerful spokesperson for an effort to reinvigorate the principle of federalism in the selection of Supreme Court Justices.
What say you, Madam Justice?
It earned them a feisty letter to the editor from Sandra Day O’Connor, who at the time had been a Justice for two years. She said that if the President is called POTUS and the Supreme Court given the acronym SCOTUS, she should be known as FWOTSC. Meaning, of course, First Woman On The Supreme Court.
And, to be sure, she was.
On July 1, 2005, after nearly 25 years on the high court, Justice O’Connor announced her intention to retire, effective when her successor would be confirmed. She was succeeded by Samuel Alito on January 31, 2006.
Since then, she has been remarkably busy, teaching, speaking, writing, and occasionally sitting as a lower court federal judge.
One of Justice O’Connor’s pet projects is to promote the improvement of the judiciary, specifically by advocating what is commonly known as ‘merit selection’ of judges.
Typically, merit selection plans are patterned on a law adopted some years ago in Missouri. In fact, the ‘Missouri Plan’ has become short hand for a system in which the Governor appoints judges from a list of candidates nominated by a blue ribbon panel of citizens.
Supposedly, these blue ribbon nominated judges are a cut above the usual elected judges. The Missouri Plan gives the public a chance to oust unpopular judges in a so called ‘retention election.’ The ballot says, Should Judge X be retained? YES or NO.
Justice O’Connor is coming to Michigan next week to lend her support to the efforts of a local Task Force, which is trying to revive the oft defeated efforts to install merit selection in the state.
The people of Michigan have repeatedly expressed their preference for electing judges. Whether Justice O’Connor can light an opposing fire remains to be seen.
Frankly, I would be more interested to know what Justice O’Connor thinks about ‘merit selection’ for the United States Supreme Court.
She has had some things to say which suggest that she is not a fan of the present system.
On July 21, Justice O'Connor spoke to a 9th U.S. Circuit conference and blamed the televising of Senate Judiciary Committee hearings for escalated conflicts over judges. She expressed sadness over attacks on the independent judiciary.
In May 2010, she warned female Supreme Court nominee Elena Kagan about the "unpleasant" process of confirmation hearings.
Certainly the selection of United States Supreme Court Justices can hardly be called non-partisan.
Superannuated jurists hang onto their seats waiting for a President of their party to be elected before retiring. Candidates for the Presidency run for office campaigning on promises to appoint this or that kind of judges. The United States Senate convenes a circus of committee hearings to probe, question, expose and often discredit Supreme Court nominees.
If a select committee of citizens is needed to nominate state court judges, why is it not desirable at the highest level? Who vets the people being considered for appointment?
Recently a group of law school professors and deans put together a proposal for reforming the United States Supreme Court. Got me to thinking. Isn’t it time for us to have a non-partisan Supreme Court in America?
Isn’t it time to stop naming Justices because of their party affiliations, partisan connections and political preferences?
The job of the courts is to interpret the constitution and laws so as to give effect to the intention of the people who adopted them. Courts aren’t supposed to make new laws, declare new rights, and ‘modernize’ the constitution.
Judicial service is a high and noble calling. The process of selecting judges should be professional, solemn and free from partisanship.
Here’s what I propose:
The Supreme Court shall consist of the nine present members and their successors, who shall be appointed by the President without confirmation by the Senate, for eighteen year terms, from among a list of five persons nominated by a majority of the Chief Justices of the highest appellate courts of the several states.
This non-partisan amendment would insulate the court from a Rooseveltian court packing. It would provide a truly ‘blue ribbon’ committee of state chief justices who know the law and the constitution, and who are familiar with the leading members of the bar.
It would moderate the present incestuous tendency to appoint law clerks and judges from a select few law schools which are not representative of the people of America or the legal profession in our country.
Sandra Day O’Connor was born in Texas, educated in California and served as a legislator and as an appellate judge in Arizona. While her alma mater, Stanford University is a prestigious institution, it’s a long way from the Atlantic seaboard.
She would be a powerful spokesperson for an effort to reinvigorate the principle of federalism in the selection of Supreme Court Justices.
What say you, Madam Justice?
Monday, June 6, 2011
EULOGY FOR CANHAM
Mary Ellen asked me to say a few words about Jim.
And I suppose at a gathering such as this, most folks expect to hear a eulogy praising the deceased, remembering his finer qualities and expressing our sense of loss.
But if you knew Jim Canham, and I guess I knew him about as well as anybody, what he would really expect is to be roasted.
That’s the way he was.
Insulting people was his favorite way of showing affection. You knew he really liked you when he called you a dipstick.
Jim Canham was bigger than life. His voice was modulated at two levels. Loud and louder.
He was often wrong, but never in doubt. And he was smart. Very smart. Certainly a lot smarter than I am. He knew everybody’s name, and where they lived, and where they came from, and what they did for a living, and how many times they had been married. And what their golf handicap was.
A voracious reader, Canham was always well informed. About the law. Politics. Religion. Sports. Movies. History. Current events. He knew it all. And what he didn’t know, he made up. And then believed it.
He was the leader, the chairman, the CEO, the boss of well, just about everything. And everybody. What are we gonna do? Ask Canham. Where are we gonna go? Ask Canham. Who’s gonna be there? Canham knows. Ask him.
A few people called him Jim. A few more called him Judge. But mostly people called him Canham. Even Mary Ellen called him Canham sometimes. That’s when you knew he was in the dog house.
He liked people. He loved people. He was gregarious and he was generous. He gave me my first set of golf clubs. Haig ultras. I used them for years. He told me how to use them. And he never hesitated to correct me if I didn’t use them properly.
But he was generous. I remember once when we played golf together, he even let me drive the cart.
Actually, he always insisted on driving the cart because of his deaf ear. I never could remember which ear was the deaf one. So I never knew if he insisted on driving because he wanted to hear me, or because he didn’t want to hear me.
Canham and I were law school classmates. Later we were colleagues on the Wayne County Circuit Court. Our wives are the dearest of friends, so Jim and I were often traveling companions, drinking buddies, golfing buddies, tennis partners, gin rummy partners, and coconspirators of one kind or another.
But we never won. Never won at anything.
We played in the Green Coat a number of times. Always finished back in the pack.
Canham was the chairman of the tournament. He’d be fretting about whether the bananas were too ripe or not ripe enough. Whether the so and sos had the right table at the banquet. If it would rain, or if we needed rain. Or if what’s his name had invited the same sandbagger he brought last year.
Invariably by the end of the second day, he couldn’t putt a golf ball into an open man hole, and he would be longing for Monday to come so he could play with his usual pals.
It got so bad, I finally bought a condo and joined the club, so I wouldn’t have to be his partner in the member-guest tournament. Then he decided we had to play in the member-member tournament.
I wrote a blog about him a little more than a year ago. He had already lost more than fifty pounds, and he knew that his time had come. He resigned himself to it. He didn’t like being sick, being helpless. Even his dog Angus was dying, but Canham could still laugh.
He went out slow and hard. Lots of time to say goodby. Lots of time for tears. Lots of time for self pity or regrets. Canham did neither. He saw his friends, and made new ones. He’s the only man I know who would hit on a hospice nurse. He loved that line. It made him laugh. He never lost his sense of humor.
One of the last times I saw him, he was flat on his back on the kitchen floor. Mary Ellen called me and I ran over to help get him up. We struggled awhile, and finally the nurse came. She knew what to do, soon had him in a sitting position, and asked him what happened.
I saw that old familiar twinkle in his eye when he answered, “Mary Ellen pushed me.”
Truthfully, for that last year, Mary Ellen not only pushed and pulled him. She dressed and bathed and fed him and waited on him hand and foot. She was the one constant love of his life. She gave him sixty years of devotion and sacrifice. Even put off joining the Emmet County Women’s Republican Club.
One of my favorite movies is “Waking Ned Devine.”
There’s a scene where Jackie O’Shea is speaking about his friend Michael O’Sullivan, and he says what many of us here this afternoon would like to say ourselves:
“Jim Canham was my great friend. But I don’t ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead. What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral. To sit at the front and hear what was said, maybe say a few things yourself. Canham and I grew old together. But at times, when we laughed, we grew young. If he was here now, if he could hear what I say, I’d congratulate him on being a great man, and thank him for being a friend.”
I’ve thought about that scene many times since Jim Canham died. And I’ve wondered just what he would say to us. Now. Today. If he were standing here.
His life was full of contradictions. Of highs and lows. Of great achievements and loud crashes. Of public attention and private solace. He was the quintessential human being, a mixture of confusion and confidence, of greatness and banality, success and failure, adversaries and admirers.
But no one would deny that he was his own man.
And I suspect that his parting speech to us would be cast in the words of a ballad he loved.
I can close my eyes and hear him singing it:
Regrets, I’ve had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do,
And saw it through without exemption.
I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.
And I suppose at a gathering such as this, most folks expect to hear a eulogy praising the deceased, remembering his finer qualities and expressing our sense of loss.
But if you knew Jim Canham, and I guess I knew him about as well as anybody, what he would really expect is to be roasted.
That’s the way he was.
Insulting people was his favorite way of showing affection. You knew he really liked you when he called you a dipstick.
Jim Canham was bigger than life. His voice was modulated at two levels. Loud and louder.
He was often wrong, but never in doubt. And he was smart. Very smart. Certainly a lot smarter than I am. He knew everybody’s name, and where they lived, and where they came from, and what they did for a living, and how many times they had been married. And what their golf handicap was.
A voracious reader, Canham was always well informed. About the law. Politics. Religion. Sports. Movies. History. Current events. He knew it all. And what he didn’t know, he made up. And then believed it.
He was the leader, the chairman, the CEO, the boss of well, just about everything. And everybody. What are we gonna do? Ask Canham. Where are we gonna go? Ask Canham. Who’s gonna be there? Canham knows. Ask him.
A few people called him Jim. A few more called him Judge. But mostly people called him Canham. Even Mary Ellen called him Canham sometimes. That’s when you knew he was in the dog house.
He liked people. He loved people. He was gregarious and he was generous. He gave me my first set of golf clubs. Haig ultras. I used them for years. He told me how to use them. And he never hesitated to correct me if I didn’t use them properly.
But he was generous. I remember once when we played golf together, he even let me drive the cart.
Actually, he always insisted on driving the cart because of his deaf ear. I never could remember which ear was the deaf one. So I never knew if he insisted on driving because he wanted to hear me, or because he didn’t want to hear me.
Canham and I were law school classmates. Later we were colleagues on the Wayne County Circuit Court. Our wives are the dearest of friends, so Jim and I were often traveling companions, drinking buddies, golfing buddies, tennis partners, gin rummy partners, and coconspirators of one kind or another.
But we never won. Never won at anything.
We played in the Green Coat a number of times. Always finished back in the pack.
Canham was the chairman of the tournament. He’d be fretting about whether the bananas were too ripe or not ripe enough. Whether the so and sos had the right table at the banquet. If it would rain, or if we needed rain. Or if what’s his name had invited the same sandbagger he brought last year.
Invariably by the end of the second day, he couldn’t putt a golf ball into an open man hole, and he would be longing for Monday to come so he could play with his usual pals.
It got so bad, I finally bought a condo and joined the club, so I wouldn’t have to be his partner in the member-guest tournament. Then he decided we had to play in the member-member tournament.
I wrote a blog about him a little more than a year ago. He had already lost more than fifty pounds, and he knew that his time had come. He resigned himself to it. He didn’t like being sick, being helpless. Even his dog Angus was dying, but Canham could still laugh.
He went out slow and hard. Lots of time to say goodby. Lots of time for tears. Lots of time for self pity or regrets. Canham did neither. He saw his friends, and made new ones. He’s the only man I know who would hit on a hospice nurse. He loved that line. It made him laugh. He never lost his sense of humor.
One of the last times I saw him, he was flat on his back on the kitchen floor. Mary Ellen called me and I ran over to help get him up. We struggled awhile, and finally the nurse came. She knew what to do, soon had him in a sitting position, and asked him what happened.
I saw that old familiar twinkle in his eye when he answered, “Mary Ellen pushed me.”
Truthfully, for that last year, Mary Ellen not only pushed and pulled him. She dressed and bathed and fed him and waited on him hand and foot. She was the one constant love of his life. She gave him sixty years of devotion and sacrifice. Even put off joining the Emmet County Women’s Republican Club.
One of my favorite movies is “Waking Ned Devine.”
There’s a scene where Jackie O’Shea is speaking about his friend Michael O’Sullivan, and he says what many of us here this afternoon would like to say ourselves:
“Jim Canham was my great friend. But I don’t ever remember telling him that. The words that are spoken at a funeral are spoken too late for the man who is dead. What a wonderful thing it would be to visit your own funeral. To sit at the front and hear what was said, maybe say a few things yourself. Canham and I grew old together. But at times, when we laughed, we grew young. If he was here now, if he could hear what I say, I’d congratulate him on being a great man, and thank him for being a friend.”
I’ve thought about that scene many times since Jim Canham died. And I’ve wondered just what he would say to us. Now. Today. If he were standing here.
His life was full of contradictions. Of highs and lows. Of great achievements and loud crashes. Of public attention and private solace. He was the quintessential human being, a mixture of confusion and confidence, of greatness and banality, success and failure, adversaries and admirers.
But no one would deny that he was his own man.
And I suspect that his parting speech to us would be cast in the words of a ballad he loved.
I can close my eyes and hear him singing it:
Regrets, I’ve had a few,
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do,
And saw it through without exemption.
I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
NEVER TOO LATE
Mark it down. It’s never too late to learn, never too late to change your mind.
That truism came to the fore a week or so ago when my friend Don LeDuc, who succeeded me as President of Cooley Law School, sent me a thick book entitled “Every Vote Equal: A State Based Plan for Electing the President by National Popular Vote.”
Like most Americans, I have always been conflicted about the process of electing our President. While the Electoral College sounds arcane, still it was established by the Founders, and that gives it a leg up for most of us.
Americans are wary of amending the Constitution, and the politicians who have the power to propose amendments are also the beneficiaries of the present system. So the status quo is what else? The status quo. What is, is.
On the other hand, along with nearly 75% of my fellow Americans, I think the President of the United States should be elected by a majority of the voters of the United States.
Now comes a web site, www.NationalPopularVote.com with a prestigious bi-partisan advisory board, which announces that we don’t need to amend the constitution. All we need is enough state legislatures to agree to popular election and it’s a done deal.
The book is 894 pages of solid information. Historical. Statistical. Legal. It makes a strong case.
First off, there is the business of how Presidential elections are run these days.
We have all heard about the red states and the blue states. New York is blue. California is blue. Texas is red. In fact about 32 of the 50 states and the District of Columbia are solidly and ‘safely’ either red or blue.
That leaves 18 ‘battleground’ states. Ninety-nine percent of the money spent on political advertising gets spent in these states. In New Mexico, Nevada, Ohio and Florida, for example, the political parties pay out more than four dollars a vote on their Presidential campaigns.
The State of Washington sees about 20 cents a vote and eleven other states get less. In 23 states neither political party spends anything.
If you are a blue voter in a red state or a red voter in a blue state, you might as well stay home. The candidates won’t waste their time or their money on you.
What emerges with the Electoral College is not the bastion of states’ rights I always thought it to be. Instead, what we have is a system in which the big money boys from Wall Street and the Union Halls compete to buy electoral votes in a third of the nation, while everyone else gets to stay up late on election night and see how the auction turns out.
In the 221 years of our history, there have been four Presidents who didn’t win the popular vote. About a dozen more losers could have won, but for a few votes here and there.
The Constitution intended the Electoral College to be a deliberative body. What has evolved over the years is something different. Presidential electors are required, or at least expected, to vote for the winner in their state everywhere but in Maine and Nebraska.
Still there have been eleven “unfaithful” electors who jumped ship and voted for somebody else. Eleven out of 21,915 isn’t very significant, except to prove that it is possible.
Which brings me to my latest brainstorm.
What if one of the Republican hopefuls were to make popular election of the President his major issue?
What if he promised to ask all electors pledged to him to vote for the candidate who wins the popular vote?
What if he says, “I will not take the oath of office unless I am elected by a majority of the American people?”
And what if he challenges his opponent to make the same promise?
That would sure stir things up in the White House.
Not to mention the New York Times.
That truism came to the fore a week or so ago when my friend Don LeDuc, who succeeded me as President of Cooley Law School, sent me a thick book entitled “Every Vote Equal: A State Based Plan for Electing the President by National Popular Vote.”
Like most Americans, I have always been conflicted about the process of electing our President. While the Electoral College sounds arcane, still it was established by the Founders, and that gives it a leg up for most of us.
Americans are wary of amending the Constitution, and the politicians who have the power to propose amendments are also the beneficiaries of the present system. So the status quo is what else? The status quo. What is, is.
On the other hand, along with nearly 75% of my fellow Americans, I think the President of the United States should be elected by a majority of the voters of the United States.
Now comes a web site, www.NationalPopularVote.com with a prestigious bi-partisan advisory board, which announces that we don’t need to amend the constitution. All we need is enough state legislatures to agree to popular election and it’s a done deal.
The book is 894 pages of solid information. Historical. Statistical. Legal. It makes a strong case.
First off, there is the business of how Presidential elections are run these days.
We have all heard about the red states and the blue states. New York is blue. California is blue. Texas is red. In fact about 32 of the 50 states and the District of Columbia are solidly and ‘safely’ either red or blue.
That leaves 18 ‘battleground’ states. Ninety-nine percent of the money spent on political advertising gets spent in these states. In New Mexico, Nevada, Ohio and Florida, for example, the political parties pay out more than four dollars a vote on their Presidential campaigns.
The State of Washington sees about 20 cents a vote and eleven other states get less. In 23 states neither political party spends anything.
If you are a blue voter in a red state or a red voter in a blue state, you might as well stay home. The candidates won’t waste their time or their money on you.
What emerges with the Electoral College is not the bastion of states’ rights I always thought it to be. Instead, what we have is a system in which the big money boys from Wall Street and the Union Halls compete to buy electoral votes in a third of the nation, while everyone else gets to stay up late on election night and see how the auction turns out.
In the 221 years of our history, there have been four Presidents who didn’t win the popular vote. About a dozen more losers could have won, but for a few votes here and there.
The Constitution intended the Electoral College to be a deliberative body. What has evolved over the years is something different. Presidential electors are required, or at least expected, to vote for the winner in their state everywhere but in Maine and Nebraska.
Still there have been eleven “unfaithful” electors who jumped ship and voted for somebody else. Eleven out of 21,915 isn’t very significant, except to prove that it is possible.
Which brings me to my latest brainstorm.
What if one of the Republican hopefuls were to make popular election of the President his major issue?
What if he promised to ask all electors pledged to him to vote for the candidate who wins the popular vote?
What if he says, “I will not take the oath of office unless I am elected by a majority of the American people?”
And what if he challenges his opponent to make the same promise?
That would sure stir things up in the White House.
Not to mention the New York Times.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
HORSE AND CARRIAGE
The rehearsal dinner was at Buckner’s Brewery, which backs up to the twelve foot high levy that keeps Cape Girardeau, Missouri from being a lake.
The locals don’t seem to notice. I guess when you are born and raised within earshot of the mighty Mississippi you get used to it.
But it was all very novel for the Brennan and Schafer clans, which assembled from Michigan, Illinois and Florida to celebrate the marriage of Thomas E. Brennan III to Meghan Elizabeth Jones.
What are the chances that a young man who grew up in East Lansing and now lives and works in Grand Rapids would meet, court and marry a girl who was born in Cape Girardeau and worked in Shaumburg, outside of Chicago, Illinois?
Mighty slim in my day.
Odds were you’d marry someone who was born less than twenty-five miles from you. A school mate. Your pal’s sister. A bridesmaid at your brother’s wedding.
But somebody from some place you never heard of? Not likely.
And we weren’t surrounded by men and women in their twenties and thirties for whom the prospect of marriage and family is seen as an aberration, a burden, a detour on the road to happiness. At best an interruption of the good life.
Frank Sinatra sang it for us: Love and marriage go together like horse and carriage. Taking up casual residence with a person of the opposite sex was a criminal offense known as lewd and lascivious cohabitation. If you were open and notorious about it, it might just become a common law marriage.
The idea of advertising for companionship in the personals column of the classified page was considered a sign of discouragement, if not desperation.
All that has changed. Now there’s match dot com.
And that’s how they met. Shared religion. Shared politics. Shared family experience and values.
Pictures exchanged. Emails flew back and forth. Laughs were shared. Opinions expressed. Phone calls and Skypes turned acquaintances into friends and friends into lovers.
By the time they met face to face they knew each other pretty well. All it took was a few kisses to seal the deal.
He asked her father for her hand, bought her a ring and proposed. She said yes and immediately set about planning the wedding.
No big problem. That’s what she does for the Marriott chain. Plan weddings and such.
Watching the merger of the Brennan and Jones families has been an exhilarating exercise for me. My son, Thomas E. Brennan, Jr., the retired judge, father of the groom and host of the rehearsal dinner, expressed it this way in his welcoming remarks:
“Frank and I are already good buddies even though we have little in common! He runs, I walk. He’s a fisherman, I’m a golfer. He plays racquetball, I play hockey. He knows computers, I know the law. He’s a Tiger, I’m a Spartan. He’s a gourmet cook, I love to eat. He says, “ya all” and I say “eh?” And he’s a grandpa and I’m not .. yet.
But here’s what we have in common: a shared Catholic faith, fantastic spouses, beloved children, similar politics, and a taste for beer! I really like this guy! In his kitchen, right above the stove, in large stenciled letters is his mantra, 'It’s All Good.' So I’d say we’re both full of happiness.”
The wedding at Saint Vincent’s Church was spectacular: a bevy of beautiful bridesmaids, a cadre of spiffy groomsmen, a couple of giggling flower girls, a stunning bride and grinning groom presided over by a priest who has known the Jones family since Meghan was a toddler.
Then came the reception, about an hour away at a vineyard set above the lush Missouri countryside, the tour de force of a professional event planner who just happened to be the bride.
It all took place on May 21, 2011. That was the day Harold Camping predicted would be the end of the world. For Tom and Meghan, it was the beginning.
But 270 miles to the West and twenty four hours later, it was indeed the end of the world for over 120 people in Joplin, Missouri.
The ferocious power of Mother Nature turned that town into rubble, snatched babies from their mothers’ arms, threw a three hundred pound patient out of a hospital window and sucked a high school graduate out of the roof of his car.
The juxtaposition of the predicted Rapture, the leveling of Joplin and the wedding of my grandson has sparked a kind of philosophical melancholy in this old judge.
Life ends when it ends. We know not the day nor the hour. Our faith tells us to live each day as though it is our last, leaving no debt unpaid nor duty undone.
Still, it brings a flush of warmth to see young people, good young people with their heads screwed on properly and their hearts in the right place stepping out together into the sunrise of a new day and a new life. Excited. Hopeful. Unafraid.
Makes me think this old earth’s going to last a while longer.
The locals don’t seem to notice. I guess when you are born and raised within earshot of the mighty Mississippi you get used to it.
But it was all very novel for the Brennan and Schafer clans, which assembled from Michigan, Illinois and Florida to celebrate the marriage of Thomas E. Brennan III to Meghan Elizabeth Jones.
What are the chances that a young man who grew up in East Lansing and now lives and works in Grand Rapids would meet, court and marry a girl who was born in Cape Girardeau and worked in Shaumburg, outside of Chicago, Illinois?
Mighty slim in my day.
Odds were you’d marry someone who was born less than twenty-five miles from you. A school mate. Your pal’s sister. A bridesmaid at your brother’s wedding.
But somebody from some place you never heard of? Not likely.
And we weren’t surrounded by men and women in their twenties and thirties for whom the prospect of marriage and family is seen as an aberration, a burden, a detour on the road to happiness. At best an interruption of the good life.
Frank Sinatra sang it for us: Love and marriage go together like horse and carriage. Taking up casual residence with a person of the opposite sex was a criminal offense known as lewd and lascivious cohabitation. If you were open and notorious about it, it might just become a common law marriage.
The idea of advertising for companionship in the personals column of the classified page was considered a sign of discouragement, if not desperation.
All that has changed. Now there’s match dot com.
And that’s how they met. Shared religion. Shared politics. Shared family experience and values.
Pictures exchanged. Emails flew back and forth. Laughs were shared. Opinions expressed. Phone calls and Skypes turned acquaintances into friends and friends into lovers.
By the time they met face to face they knew each other pretty well. All it took was a few kisses to seal the deal.
He asked her father for her hand, bought her a ring and proposed. She said yes and immediately set about planning the wedding.
No big problem. That’s what she does for the Marriott chain. Plan weddings and such.
Watching the merger of the Brennan and Jones families has been an exhilarating exercise for me. My son, Thomas E. Brennan, Jr., the retired judge, father of the groom and host of the rehearsal dinner, expressed it this way in his welcoming remarks:
“Frank and I are already good buddies even though we have little in common! He runs, I walk. He’s a fisherman, I’m a golfer. He plays racquetball, I play hockey. He knows computers, I know the law. He’s a Tiger, I’m a Spartan. He’s a gourmet cook, I love to eat. He says, “ya all” and I say “eh?” And he’s a grandpa and I’m not .. yet.
But here’s what we have in common: a shared Catholic faith, fantastic spouses, beloved children, similar politics, and a taste for beer! I really like this guy! In his kitchen, right above the stove, in large stenciled letters is his mantra, 'It’s All Good.' So I’d say we’re both full of happiness.”
The wedding at Saint Vincent’s Church was spectacular: a bevy of beautiful bridesmaids, a cadre of spiffy groomsmen, a couple of giggling flower girls, a stunning bride and grinning groom presided over by a priest who has known the Jones family since Meghan was a toddler.
Then came the reception, about an hour away at a vineyard set above the lush Missouri countryside, the tour de force of a professional event planner who just happened to be the bride.
It all took place on May 21, 2011. That was the day Harold Camping predicted would be the end of the world. For Tom and Meghan, it was the beginning.
But 270 miles to the West and twenty four hours later, it was indeed the end of the world for over 120 people in Joplin, Missouri.
The ferocious power of Mother Nature turned that town into rubble, snatched babies from their mothers’ arms, threw a three hundred pound patient out of a hospital window and sucked a high school graduate out of the roof of his car.
The juxtaposition of the predicted Rapture, the leveling of Joplin and the wedding of my grandson has sparked a kind of philosophical melancholy in this old judge.
Life ends when it ends. We know not the day nor the hour. Our faith tells us to live each day as though it is our last, leaving no debt unpaid nor duty undone.
Still, it brings a flush of warmth to see young people, good young people with their heads screwed on properly and their hearts in the right place stepping out together into the sunrise of a new day and a new life. Excited. Hopeful. Unafraid.
Makes me think this old earth’s going to last a while longer.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
SEVEN ZIP
It didn’t take them very long.
Earlier today, the Supreme Court of Michigan decided the case of Attorney General v Clarke.
It rendered a per curiam opinion. Per curiam. That means, “by the court.’ In other words, unanimously. All seven Justices agreed to dismiss the Attorney General’s request to oust Judge Clarke from the Lansing District Court.
In the process, the Court repudiated the 1983 case of Kelley v Riley, on the ground that its controlling opinion is inconsistent with the constitution of the State of Michigan.
It was front page news in the Lansing State Journal, which noted that the Court consists of four Republicans and three Democrats, and that I had told them a party line vote would demean the Court and make a mockery of the rule of law.
Since they didn't decide to remove Judge Clarke, they didn't have to answer the question of whether they have the power to do it. They didn't have to come face to face with the plain words of the constitution which say they don't have the power to remove judges.
No surprise. Also no surprise that they included a paragraph defending their right to answer that question either way if it evercomes up. Judges don't giveup the gavel very easily, even to the sovereign people.
Bottom line, the case is closed. Judge Clarke stays on the bench. The Good Lord was willin' and the creek didn't rise.
So the Honorable Hugh Clarke can get back to concentrating on the miscreants, the landlords, the tenants, and the hapless DUI defendants who make his job so challenging. And begin to plan his 2012 election campaign.
And I can get back to being a bogie golfer, a harried homeowner, an itinerant grandparent, and a concerned citizen of these United States.
Still, I have to admit that donning the familiar blue suit, hauling a bulging brief case to the courthouse and jousting with the folks in the black robes was an exhilerating exercise for this old warrior.
Nice to know there's still a bit of fire in the belly that isn't just heart burn from eating jalopenos.
Earlier today, the Supreme Court of Michigan decided the case of Attorney General v Clarke.
It rendered a per curiam opinion. Per curiam. That means, “by the court.’ In other words, unanimously. All seven Justices agreed to dismiss the Attorney General’s request to oust Judge Clarke from the Lansing District Court.
In the process, the Court repudiated the 1983 case of Kelley v Riley, on the ground that its controlling opinion is inconsistent with the constitution of the State of Michigan.
It was front page news in the Lansing State Journal, which noted that the Court consists of four Republicans and three Democrats, and that I had told them a party line vote would demean the Court and make a mockery of the rule of law.
Since they didn't decide to remove Judge Clarke, they didn't have to answer the question of whether they have the power to do it. They didn't have to come face to face with the plain words of the constitution which say they don't have the power to remove judges.
No surprise. Also no surprise that they included a paragraph defending their right to answer that question either way if it evercomes up. Judges don't giveup the gavel very easily, even to the sovereign people.
Bottom line, the case is closed. Judge Clarke stays on the bench. The Good Lord was willin' and the creek didn't rise.
So the Honorable Hugh Clarke can get back to concentrating on the miscreants, the landlords, the tenants, and the hapless DUI defendants who make his job so challenging. And begin to plan his 2012 election campaign.
And I can get back to being a bogie golfer, a harried homeowner, an itinerant grandparent, and a concerned citizen of these United States.
Still, I have to admit that donning the familiar blue suit, hauling a bulging brief case to the courthouse and jousting with the folks in the black robes was an exhilerating exercise for this old warrior.
Nice to know there's still a bit of fire in the belly that isn't just heart burn from eating jalopenos.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
WELCOME BACK
I had not argued a case in the Michigan Supreme Court in more than fifty years.
Everything was different. The Courthouse. The security precautions. The people, of course.
And TV cameras, for heaven’s sake. I had been a voice crying in the wilderness a half century ago, urging television in the courtrooms. Now there it was. And I would be on it.
For folks who have never seen a Supreme Court case argued, take a look at:
http://cst.clickstreamtv.net/mpi/cst.html?account=sbm&clip=050311_msc_54a&flashVersion=10&playlist=05_03_11_msc_54a_judge&realVersion=&route=1&cstSessionID=971282&sessionID=M20110510128871BE0F4&server=&speedZone=300&wmpVersion=9&referenceID=&emailCampaignID=&recipientID=&fileID=
Despite my years on the bench, I confess that I was nervous. Chief Justice Bob Young graciously greeted me with “Welcome back.” I was so up tight, I didn’t thank him.
Bad start.
Afterwards, a generous email from an old friend gave me occasion to size up the experience. I told him I was having “litigation remorse.” I should have said this. I should have said that. Why didn’t I think of this? Why didn’t I think of that?
He reminded me that the best jury speeches are addressed to the ceiling of a lawyer’s bedroom on the night after the trial.
Still, mulling over the questions asked by the justices, I can’t help but think that some of them simply didn’t understand the gist of my argument.
Chief Justice Young, for example, asked if I was claiming that the Court could not remove an imposter.
I wish I had answered by pointing out that an imposter is not a judge, and that removing an imposter is not removing a judge.
Suppose, for example, that a judge goes on vacation, and while he is away, his jealous, identical twin brother, dons the robe and starts holding court. The imposter can’t make enforceable decisions. Can’t legally put people in jail. Anyone can challenge him. You don’t need a Quo Warranto action. And when you take the gavel away from him, you are not removing a judge, you are exposing an imposter.
Justice Marilyn Kelly put the case that someone other than Judge Krause might have won the District Court election in November 2010. If Judge Clarke tried to stay on the job after January 1, couldn’t the Court remove him and install the newly elected judge?
I wish I had responded by telling her that when I was Chief Justice there was a judge who kept coming to the office after he lost the election. I told him to clean out his desk and go home. It’s not rocket science. You don’t need a court order to remove somebody from an office they no longer hold.
Justice Zahra wondered what would happen if the new Governor had also appointed someone to the job. Would the Court then have the power to remove Judge Clarke?
Again, I wish I had answered that there is only one judgeship at issue. If there are two claimants, one of them is a judge and the other is not a judge. You can’t remove the judge because the constitution forbids it, and you can’t remove the other claimant because he doesn’t occupy an office from which to be removed.
I did try to remind the Court that even the Attorney general agrees that Hugh Clarke is a sitting District Judge. But I should have pointed out that their own Court Administrator lists Clarke as a judge, monitors his workload, and keeps his judicial statistics.
Arguing the case for the umpteenth time to my bedroom ceiling, I can hear myself asking the justices the crucial question, If the words,’The Supreme Court shall not have the power to remove a judge’do not mean that you can’t remove a judge, what exactly do they mean?
The ceiling doesn’t answer. Maybe the Supreme Court of Michigan will.
Everything was different. The Courthouse. The security precautions. The people, of course.
And TV cameras, for heaven’s sake. I had been a voice crying in the wilderness a half century ago, urging television in the courtrooms. Now there it was. And I would be on it.
For folks who have never seen a Supreme Court case argued, take a look at:
http://cst.clickstreamtv.net/mpi/cst.html?account=sbm&clip=050311_msc_54a&flashVersion=10&playlist=05_03_11_msc_54a_judge&realVersion=&route=1&cstSessionID=971282&sessionID=M20110510128871BE0F4&server=&speedZone=300&wmpVersion=9&referenceID=&emailCampaignID=&recipientID=&fileID=
Despite my years on the bench, I confess that I was nervous. Chief Justice Bob Young graciously greeted me with “Welcome back.” I was so up tight, I didn’t thank him.
Bad start.
Afterwards, a generous email from an old friend gave me occasion to size up the experience. I told him I was having “litigation remorse.” I should have said this. I should have said that. Why didn’t I think of this? Why didn’t I think of that?
He reminded me that the best jury speeches are addressed to the ceiling of a lawyer’s bedroom on the night after the trial.
Still, mulling over the questions asked by the justices, I can’t help but think that some of them simply didn’t understand the gist of my argument.
Chief Justice Young, for example, asked if I was claiming that the Court could not remove an imposter.
I wish I had answered by pointing out that an imposter is not a judge, and that removing an imposter is not removing a judge.
Suppose, for example, that a judge goes on vacation, and while he is away, his jealous, identical twin brother, dons the robe and starts holding court. The imposter can’t make enforceable decisions. Can’t legally put people in jail. Anyone can challenge him. You don’t need a Quo Warranto action. And when you take the gavel away from him, you are not removing a judge, you are exposing an imposter.
Justice Marilyn Kelly put the case that someone other than Judge Krause might have won the District Court election in November 2010. If Judge Clarke tried to stay on the job after January 1, couldn’t the Court remove him and install the newly elected judge?
I wish I had responded by telling her that when I was Chief Justice there was a judge who kept coming to the office after he lost the election. I told him to clean out his desk and go home. It’s not rocket science. You don’t need a court order to remove somebody from an office they no longer hold.
Justice Zahra wondered what would happen if the new Governor had also appointed someone to the job. Would the Court then have the power to remove Judge Clarke?
Again, I wish I had answered that there is only one judgeship at issue. If there are two claimants, one of them is a judge and the other is not a judge. You can’t remove the judge because the constitution forbids it, and you can’t remove the other claimant because he doesn’t occupy an office from which to be removed.
I did try to remind the Court that even the Attorney general agrees that Hugh Clarke is a sitting District Judge. But I should have pointed out that their own Court Administrator lists Clarke as a judge, monitors his workload, and keeps his judicial statistics.
Arguing the case for the umpteenth time to my bedroom ceiling, I can hear myself asking the justices the crucial question, If the words,’The Supreme Court shall not have the power to remove a judge’do not mean that you can’t remove a judge, what exactly do they mean?
The ceiling doesn’t answer. Maybe the Supreme Court of Michigan will.
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