The State of Maryland lost a real character last week. Former Governor Schaefer died April 18, 2011. He was Governor from 1987 to 1995. Prior to that he had been the Mayor of Baltimore from 1971 to 1986.
As the Mayor of Baltimore he was responsible for turning the Baltimore Inner Harbor into an exciting tourist attraction. When the National Aquarium of Baltimore opened in 1981, Schaefer showed up in a 1920’s bathing suit.
I only met him once. We were holding a General Law Spring Conference of the ABA in Annapolis. Schaefer hosted a small group of us for cocktails in the governor’s mansion. He spoke to us for a short while. I don’t remember anything he said, but I came away thinking that he was impressive and humorous. He stood on the steps leading upstairs and we were gathered in a hallway below. I remember him introducing a woman to us who was not his wife. This confused me, but I confused easily.
I suspect Governor Schaefer didn’t know I was there. Yet, it was only a few years later when he wrote to the Secretary of Transportation, Andy Card about me. He advised Andy to keep a close eye on me because I was a troublemaker. He probably didn’t realize that I had had the opportunity earlier to swipe his silver, but had left the mansion with only my bride.
The problem came up in June of 1992 when the Maryland legislature passed a gas guzzler tax. New cars with terrible gas mileage (gas guzzlers) would pay a high tax when purchased. New cars with excellent gas milage would pay a much smaller tax.
I was Chief Counsel for the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) and we were responsible for regulating Corporate Average Fuel Economy (CAFE) for the automobile industry. When Congress gave us that authority, it also prohibited states from coming up with their own plans. You can see how frustrating it would be for the auto industry if each state could set its own fuel economy standards.
So I wrote a letter to Maryland’s Attorney General, Joseph Curran, Jr. explaining that their gas guzzler tax flew in the face of the Congressional mandate that the Federal government would regulate fuel economy. I realized that what Maryland had done was embarrassing, but I thought it was to their advantage to learn about their mistake as soon as possible.
Wow! I soon learned that when politics is involved, nothing is clear. From reading the Baltimore Sun, you would have thought that I was assembling troops just inside the DC border, getting ready to invade the State of Maryland. Then State Senator Chris Van Hollen accused the Bush Administration of attempting to take away Maryland’s taxing authority (In a later life, Chris and I were partners at Arent Fox). I was interviewed on National Public Radio (our tax dollars at work) wanting to know why the Federal government was prohibiting the sovereign State of Maryland from exercising their tax authority. I got the feeling that Van Hollen had written the questions. I explained that I had no problem with Maryland taxing whatever they wanted, as long as it didn’t, in fact, regulate fuel economy.
Attorney General Curran told the press that the law might have to be tweaked. Give me a break. The gas guzzler tax was dead on arrival. It had run out of fuel.
Then Secretary Card received a letter from Governor Schaefer blasting me as a troublemaker. Maybe I should have swiped his silver. By that time I had adopted P. T. Barnum’s approach to notoriety, “I don’t care what you say. Just spell my name right.”
This is how the bureaucracy works. When the Secretary’s office received the letter from Governor Schaefer regarding a NHTSA matter, they send it to NHTSA to prepare a response for the Secretary’s signature. When NHTSA sees that the letter involves a legal matter, they send it to the office of the Chief Counsel for a response. So guess who got to answer Governor Schaefer’s letter? Yours truly. I know that you are not the least surprised that Secretary Card thought that Paul Jackson Rice was doing an outstanding job as Chief Counsel.
Written by PJ Rice on www.ricequips.com
All posts by pajarice
The Judge Says – Guest Writer for “Plain Talk”
Back in the early Eighties, along with being the Staff Judge Advocate at Fort Riley, I was writing weekly articles for the Post newspaper and the Junction City Daily Union. It is amazing how much you are wanted if you work for free. The Officers’ Wives Club was publishing a monthly paper called Plain Talk, and they asked me to contribute an article. Below is the first article I wrote for them. I wrote three articles for them before I was fired by the Commanding General’s wife because I was a male. I was disappointed that it took her so long to figure that out.
PLAIN TALK December 1981
The Judge Doesn’t Say
You want some plain talk? Well you’ve come to the right person. I used to fly on the DC-3 when they didn’t have the movies. I talked all the time because the magazines made me sick.
OK, are you ready for some plane talk? “The houses really look small.” “My ears just popped.” “They tell me my luggage will be on the next flight.” “Your bottom cushion is also a floating device” (They have seen you at the pool). “It’s really easy once you take the little brown bag away from your face.”
I could go on, but you’ll have to trust me. Nancy O’Malley asked me to talk about something you ladies were interested in. So I told her I would talk about Burt Reynolds shaving off his mustache on the Johnny Carson Show.
That wasn’t what she wanted. I suggested expanding into railroad talk (“the houses really are zipping by” and “are you sure this is a dry state?”), and boat talk (“gee, all the houses on the shore seem to be bobbing up and down”).
Well, here I am smack in the middle of this thing and I still haven’t figured out what to say. So I asked Carole to let me see the previous issues of Plain Talk. She had them all neatly filed in a three-ring notebook. Don’t you just hate people who are so well organized that all they do is act as a bad reminder?
Well, I looked through the first four issues. PT is really a neat publication! I would have been happier if I had not read the article on men’s fashions. The only good news is that my threads may come back in style in five or ten years.
I got a little tired of seeing Ro smiling at me [she was the wives club president]. I don’t know if you noticed, but in each issue Ro’s picture gets a little smaller. I think by March there will be nothing but teeth.
OK, that’s it. Now you know I had nothing to say and I said it. I think your paper is great and if I ever have a good thought, I’ll send it to PT.
Written by PJ Rice at www.ricequips.com
Will Tiger Woods Win a Major this Year?
According to CBS, there are only two monumental events left to occur this year. The Royal Wedding and the Masters. I’m not too concerned about the wedding, but the Masters signifies to those of us who live where there are four seasons that it is time to get our game together.
The Masters is also the first of the four major tournaments. Tiger had won 14 majors. Will he win number 15 this year? I think not.
It’s all about Karma. I didn’t know much about Karma until I started watching the TV show “My Name is Earl.” It was a sitcom with a deep underlying message. Earl won $100,000 in the lottery and in his excitement got hit by a car and lost the lottery ticket. While laid up in the hospital, a nurse explained to him that he probably had bad Karma for all the bad things he had done in his lifetime. He bought into that thesis (and so do I), and made himself a list of all the bad things he had done. He spent the next four seasons trying to right all his wrongs. I lost interest in season two, so I don’t know how it all turned out. I think Earl and the audience were put out of their misery when the show was canceled.
Anyway, I think Tiger has bad Karma. And when I remembered that Tiger’s father’s name was Earl, it all came together. Tiger, Karma, Earl. Earl, Karma, Tiger. Just like Harry Bosch, I don’t believe in coincidences.
So Tiger needs to make a list. I have no idea how long the list needs to be, but I don’t think he is going to be able to rectify all the bad Karma this year. Let’s see, there would be his wife, Elin. I don’t think that apology went too well (and he paid dearly). Then there are all the sweet things to whom he whispered that he truly had feelings for them. At least the porn stars will be easy to find.
I believe it was in 1997 when he was interviewed after winning a tournament that he told the interviewer and the world that he didn’t have his “A” game that week. Put all the other players in the tournament on the list Tiger. You basically said, “I can beat all of you with my “B” game.
Put me on the list too. Tiger told the world that he didn’t have anyone helping him. He was the only one responsible for making these affairs happen. I’m thinking, how stupid does he think we are? He had to have facilitators to assist him, to cover for him.
When he apologized to the nation, he looked me right in the eye and said Elin hadn’t hit him with a 5 iron. Well, even though they are now divorced, she is still the mother of his children and he would want to protect her. Plus, I’m pretty sure it was a 9 iron.
It is unimaginable that Tiger has not returned to his winning ways. But, we all know that golf is a head game and bad Karma or no, Tiger has a head problem. It impacts all golfers at one time or another. I’ll give you an example. A player is having a great day – best ever. Then, on the 8th green, he misses a three-foot putt. All the great golf psychologists will tell you, “forget about it – you have been playing great – put that little putt out of your mind – concentrate on your next shot.” But all golfers know what happens on the next tee box. The poor schmuck doesn’t have a chance. He should be pleased if he keeps the ball in bounds and finds it.
Well, Tiger has done a lot worse than missing a three-foot putt. He lied and got caught. He cheated on his wife and got caught. And now, even worse, he has been caught spitting on a green! Tiger, put the greens keeper on your list.
Written by PJ Rice on www.ricequips.com
Bombing Libya – Then What?
I’m confused about us going to war with Libya. You say war, what war? Well, firing a hundred plus missiles into another country is an act of war. I am certain that the leaders of this country know this.
During the Cuban Missile Crises, we imposed a quarantine around Cuba and not a blockade, because a blockade constituted an act of war. But that was 50 years ago. Now, we just cut loose.
I have no use for Mommar Gaddafi. I think he is a tyrant and a murderer, and if he were blown in to 1,000 pieces, I would be pleased. I might even go as low at 200 pieces.
What I see in Libya is an internal uprising. I see a revolution against Gaddafi. I support it, but I don’t understand where we have the right to fire missiles into another sovereign, albeit tyrannical, nation. The justification is that Gaddafi is slaughtering his own people. When you have a revolution and internal forces attempt to overthrow their miserable leader, I would expect the miserable leader to fight back. He obviously has and very successfully. And those people he is slaughtering are the people who are trying to overthrow him (and most likely execute him). None of this startles me.
It’s great to have missiles and air superiority. But, if Gaddafi has superior forces on the ground, he will probably put down this internal revolt.
Did President Obama think these things through before he committed our nation? What I am hearing is the US is only taking charge for a little while and then we will turn it over to NATO forces. What does that mean? Does that mean that we will bow out or just step back. I suspect NATO will enforce a no-fly zone while Gaddafi forces wipe out the opposition. I wish our President would have consulted with Congress before authorizing this act of war.
Bill O’Reilly says it’s OK to do it because Gaddafi ordered the bombing of Pan Am 103 over Lockerbie, Scotland. Maybe we should indict him – Gaddafi that is. But the Administration says it’s to keep him from slaughtering his own people – “innocent civilians” (who are trying to overthrow him).
At this time I was going to quote Colin Powell on only going to war when you have overwhelming power, understand the objectives and definitely have an end game to close out the matter. In looking Powell up on the internet so that I could make sure I had the quote correct, I read that Powell supported Obama for President. He thought Obama would provide fresh eyes to look at the issues.
After reading that, I no longer concerned myself with getting the quote right. I’ll bet Powell is feeling pretty stupid right now.
Written by PJ Rice on www.ricequips.com
Carole Jeanne Valentine
One thing for sure, if you are going to marry a gal named Valentine, you better take St. Valentine’s Day seriously. I did and I do.
I guess we started dating way back in 1955. We got married in 1959 and until this year, she could always count on a Valentine’s Day card from me. Sometimes flowers, sometimes candy or dinner, but always a card. That is until this year.
In early February, we were traveling in Florida. By the 7th of February, we were at Disney World. It was shortly after our arrival that I realized I had no card for Carole. I started nosing around gift shops and refreshment areas, but there were no St. Valentine’s Day cards. I spoke to our concierge – no luck (No, I don’t want a post card!). If parents wanted to spend $500 on their eight-year-old daughter making her into a princess, no problem. But try to find a Valentine’s Day card.
I panicked. I thought about making a card, but my talents don’t run in that direction. I am more of a stick figure artist. Would Carole have a card for me? Oh yes. She, in her maddeningly efficient way, probably picked it out in early January.
Then, I realized that I write a Christmas poem every year. Why not write her a St. Valentine’s Day poem? I did and it solved the problem. The trick is to write from the heart. Here is what I wrote:
It’s Valentine’s Day and I want you to know,
Having you with me makes everything go.
You’ve captured my heart, and captured my soul,
When you’re not close by, I don’t even feel whole.
So, I love you so much and I just want to say,
Have a Happy, Happy St. Valentine’s Day.
(This was done by a professional. Please do not try this at home).
Written by PJ Rice on ricequips.com
The Judge Says – This Racket is Really Tough
June 4, 1982
This journalism racket is really tough. I had no idea that there was a grand scheme behind smacking print on paper.
You know I’m a lawyer by profession and I’m doing what I always wanted to do. After 19 years of plugging away, I am finally a Staff Judge Advocate here at Fort Riley. I have 20 attorneys working for me. And, that probably makes me the head of the largest law firm in Kansas. But cracking the newspaper business is another game.
After I got to where I felt comfortable writing The Judge Says, I decided to branch out into Junction City’s finest, The Daily Union. Each Tuesday, I would carry my little column down to the editor. He would read it and then tell me it was too long or too short (no such problem with the Post paper). Sometimes he would just ask me what in the world I was talking about..
Two weeks ago, I wrote about the Army’s silly name changing game (“recruits” are not called “trainees” so they can learn faster). And when I came to a particularly meaningless change, I would insert in parentheses, “humma, humma.” Later, I vented my concern for conservationism with a “humma, humma, humma.”
The editor was concerned whether all his reading public would understand humma, humma. I advised that some would and those who didn’t probably wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.
He thought it was inappropriate to use technical military terms such as humma, humma, in a civilian newspaper. I explained that hassle was originally a military term which was now in common usage. And early use of the term humma, humma would just give the Junction Citonians a leg up on the rest of the nation.
As I was leaving, I told him to do what he felt was best. But, by the time I got home for lunch, I had the solution. I called and told him if he would agree to leave the humma, hummus in, I would write the next weeks column explaining what humma, humma meant. Then the editor became concerned about his reading public being confused for an entire week (tough and subtle racket). I reassured him that anyone who reads my column expects to be a little confused.
Well, the humma, humma didn’t make it that week, but I still felt compelled to explain the term. Hence, this column. Then, to my total disbelief, I discovered that humma, humma was not in the Army dictionary (I found HUMRRO, which is a lot closer than I want to talk about).
So now I’ll just have to give you my definition. But I’m uncertain whether humma, humma doesn’t have more than one meaning (like foot). It may depend upon whether the accent is on the first or second humma.
I believe it means much to do about nothing. The grand overplay of something insignificant. My discussions with the editor would be a good example. But the best example is this week’s column (humma, humma).
Real Redskin Excitement
Yes, I am a Redskin fan. Not a happy one. One who suffers through the season. I say things like, “If they don’t care, why should I.” Then something goes right and I get all excited – just to be disappointed again.
I am old enough to remember all the excitement with the “over-the-hill gang.” Watching Billy Kilmer (Old Furnace Face) follow his stomach up to the line of scrimmage. Then there were the Super Bowl victories in the 80’s and early 90’s. The glory days. It’s been about 20 years.
Ever since Dan Snyder bought the team, it has been a joke. And I don’t think it will change as long as he is in there tinkering (like a little kid with a toy – when he gets mad, he breaks it). Does he want a Super Bowl team? Desperately. Does he have a clue? Absolutely not. Letting his crony, Vinny Cerreto, run the team. Hiring Jim Zorn as the coach; then shaming him in the middle of the season to try to get him to quit (just to save some money). Everything seems to be more about Snyder than the team.
Then it dawned on me. There is still an exciting Redskin season every year. It starts in February and runs till late summer. It is only when they take the field against an opponent that I see the house of cards crumbling.
But during the off season, all kinds of exciting things happen. Like getting a new coach. Since Snyder took over, we get a new head coach on average better than once every two years. Exciting names like Shottenheimer, Spurrier and Gibbs. Marty Shottenheimer lost the first five games his only season with us (So did Joe Gibbs before he took us to the Super Bowl). He had a reputation for being a tough, successful coach. Some of the players complained that he wasn’t treating them with the respect they deserved. After he convinced them that he was in charge, they won eight of their last 11 games. Snyder fired him.
Snyder brought in Steve Spurrier, the Ball Coach. I had always been a Spurrier fan. It turned out he wasn’t ready for pro ball. He seemed to be clueless. Everyone in the stadium, the announcers and even the TV fans could see a blitz coming. But the Ball Coach had called a deep pass and that was that. Before the wide receiver even made his break, the quarterback was on his rear. At the end of the first year (7-9), I was still convinced that the Ball Coach would turn things around. I said, “He was duped and he is too good a coach to let that happen two years in a row. We won five games the next season. The Ball Coach took his $50 million and joined the Augusta Country Club.
Joe Gibbs will always be my favorite coach. But even he couldn’t win with Snyder looking over his shoulder. Poor Jim Zorn. He happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time when Snyder had chased away all the legitimate candidates for head coach. Zorn had the same two-year record as the Ball Coach (12-20)!
Now we have Mike Shanahan. While his first season was 6 & 10, we Redskin fans never give up hope. Onward and upward.
Changing coaches isn’t the only thing that happens in the best part of our season. Two years ago, we paid $100 million for Albert Haynesworth. That was exciting. The problem was he was out of shape and didn’t play that much (he got tired). Then, when Coach Shanahan came on board, we switched to a 3/4 defense (three men down and four linebackers). Haynesworth would have been a pretty good nose tackle (plays right over the offensive center), but he didn’t want to play that position. Shanahan made all of his players pass a physical fitness test to show they were in shape. Haynesworth failed and failed and failed. Breaking news in the DC area was Albert had passed the test and could now practice. Then, he announced he only wanted to play on passing downs. Things went down hill fast. Then, he told the GM that he wanted no more direct contact with Coach Shanahan! Goodbye Albert.
Last year during the exciting part of our season, we traded for Donovan McNabb. We were getting a Pro-Bowl quarterback. The problem was that a good QB needs a good line in front of him. We didn’t have one. Shanahan inexplicably benched McNabb in the Detroit game (which we still had a chance to win & McNabb had a reputation for bringing his team back). Of course, we lost. The very next week, Snyder signed Donovan to an extended $78.5 million contract. Donovan should have read the fine print. Only $3.5 million was guaranteed and I suspect that is all McNabb will see.
Now we have the draft coming up. That’s an important part of our exciting non-playing season. Of course, we usually have traded away our draft picks. This year we have our first and second round picks, but no third or fourth round picks. And who will we pick? A QB? A wide receiver? I hope not. We desperately need someone who plays in the sand on offense or defense. We can use help in both places.
I have to go and start thinking about the draft. Egads, this is exciting. I shouldn’t have another set back until the first pre-season game.
The Commissary – One of the Bennies
The Commissary is one of the real bennies of being active duty or retired military. The PX is OK, but you can probably get just as good a price at Costco or Walmart. But nothing beats the Commissary. My wife, Carole, is an expert at price comparison. When they say re-up for the bennies, they are talking about medical care, retirement and the Commissary.
But, why would any sane retired person go to the Commissary on a Saturday? Well, we were already out and it seemed like a good idea until we saw the parking lot. But we were there. I generally drop Carole off and stay in the car for 30-40 minutes and read (or sleep). Neither is overrated. When I did go in, she was still in produce. Bad sign.
I have spoken of my quirks with green visors and pens. Well, Carole’s quirk is making sure she has enough food in the house. She has six of everything. If she gets down to three, she runs out and gets three more. We never run out of anything. We do throw stuff away because it expired years ago. The good news is that the 12 cases of Coke we have in the garage have no expiration date.
I have my own Commissary list. Two items: dental floss and chap stick. Were we out of the items? Oh contraire. Carole has a drawer for dental floss and one for Chap Stick (small drawers). I went through the dental floss drawer and found three mint waxed and one mint woven. I don’t mind the mint. It’s not high on my priority list when I am flossing. I just want to get it over. The woven stuff gets stuck in my teeth. I also have a picture in my mind of the wax attaching to my teeth and negotiating a deal with gingivitis.
Johnson & Johnson’s Reach makes an unwaxed, unflavored floss. That’s what I wanted. When I found the floss area, there was a woman standing in my way. I was in no hurry. I didn’t want to “crowd her space.” However, she took too long in terms of floss buying time. I wished I would have brought in my book. She finally made her decision and left and I grabbed my floss and moved on to the Chap Stick area.
I mentioned the Chap Stick drawer. Carole has medicated Chap Stick, skin-care Chap Stick and cherry and strawberry Chap Stick. I had previously taken the moisturized Chap Stick and was running low. That was what I wanted. I found it. It said, “moisturizer,” “skin protectant/sunscreen SPF 15.” Sounded great. Then I noticed it said, “Limited Edition Design!” Limited edition design? Chap Stick? It blew my mind. And I had been questioning the relevancy of flavored floss.
I couldn’t find out how limited the edition was, but I bought it anyway. Eat your heart out.
A Christmas with No Tree?
I don’t ever remember a Christmas without a Christmas Tree. But things weren’t working out this year. First, we were hoping that our son and his family would come up from Roanoke. That would have been great, but they couldn’t work it out. So, no visitors to prepare for. Second, it was early December and we were leaving on a cruise from December 10 to 21. Not much time to put up a tree and decorate. And for what? An empty house?
I remember one year when we were stationed in Germany and all hell broke out right before Christmas. There were all kinds of criminal investigations being conducted in the 4th Armored Division and I was ordered to go to Nuernberg and represent these alleged wrongdoers. That meant that I would spend the week before Christmas 100 miles away from Cooke Barracks where we lived.
I went home and told Carole to pack up the kids, because if we wanted to spend Christmas together, it was going to be in Nuernberg. It turned out to be a memorable Christmas. In Nuernberg, we discovered the Christkindlmarkt with its excitement, bratwuerst and massive crowds. The thought of being crushed definitely crossed our minds. You only moved in the direction the crowd was moving. And, choke points lived up to their name.
The good news is we made it home on the 23d of December. Now, I had to find a tree. Christmas trees are not foreign to Germany, but on the day before Christmas, the selection was almost nonexistent. What I brought home, in the most generic sense, constituted a Christmas tree. It was four feet tall and eight feet wide. There weren’t many branches (Carole says there were six, I say at least twice that many), but at least they were long. It was an ugly tree, but once the presents were placed underneath it, no one noticed.
When I was growing up, we had a tree that rotated. Oh yea? It was a big deal. Keep in mind we are talking about the late 1940’s. I don’t know how Dad did it, but he hooked up a washing machine motor and the stand rotated slowly. No, it did not agitate.
The stand was about two feet high and covered like a round table top. Since the rotating stand was tall, the tree could only be about five feet tall. But it had to be full on all sides. If a tree just stands there, you can put the bad side to the wall. That’s what walls are for. But a rotating tree can’t have a bad side. So Dad would drill holes in the trunk of the tree and stick in extra branches. These would be tied up with black thread. It was an arduous process.
One of the advantages to decorating a rotating tree in you can stand in one spot and put the ornaments on. It was mandated that we had to put the tinsel on one strand at a time. What a pain. I think that is why when our generation grew up, we did away with tinsel.
When the kids were young, we would find a place where we could select our tree and cut it. One day a year was dedicated to cutting our tree. For some reason, it was always exciting. There was a certain risk/reward aspect to it. Would we find the right tree? Could we get it home without it falling off the car or damaging the car? We paid by the foot. The taller the tree, the more expensive. Then, when we got the thing home, we would realize it was too tall and cut off about two feet or $20.
So was this going to be the year with no tree? No way! Our tree was packed away in two oversize boxes in the basement. It was just a matter of lugging them upstairs and figuring out which one goes on top of the other. After two consecutive years of putting the wrong piece on the bottom, I had idiot proofed them with markings so there would be no threepeat.
We have three enormous boxes of ornaments. They won’t all fit on the tree. But it is a joy to dig out the ornaments. They have been accumulated through many years in many countries. Many are like old friends; like the Rathaus in Frankfurt and the many Mickey Mouses from Disney World. I must have a half-a-dozen nutcrackers and chimney sweeps. They have been waiting all year to say Hello.
So I finished decorating the tree, then we packed our bags and flew down to Miami to meet our cruise. When we got back on the 21st, the tree was waiting for us. I probably need to start thinking about taking it down.
What’s in a John Handcock or a John Henry?
When we are born, we are given a name. We are not in a position to consult on the matter. We are concentrating on more fundamental issues. And, most of us have that name the rest of our lives.
I envy those people who step forward and change their name. I wouldn’t ever do that. But, wouldn’t it be great to be a Rock or a Brick? Solid. I don’t know about Rock Rice. Maybe Rockland Rice and I could go by Rock.
My birth certificate reads “Jack Paul Rice.” Then there’s an addendum that says “Paul Jack Rice.” Hand written on the addendum after the word “Jack” is the word “son.” If I were the oldest child, I would wonder about my legitimacy (not that that matters anymore). I decided that the answer is that you don’t wake a mother up after child birth and ask for a name.
It had been decided that I would be called Jack. And that worked out reasonably well. There was a time in Kindergarten when upperclassmen (1st and 2nd graders) would tease me at recess with chants of “Jacky Rice eats mice.” Except for a couple bloody noses, I survived those episodes.
Until I got to college, very few people even knew my name was Paul Jackson Rice. In college, a number of my friends called me “PJ.” I liked that. It wasn’t Rock, but it had a friendly ring. “Hey PJ, what’s happening.” I didn’t hang around with a very intellectual group. We were mostly jocks and we concentrated on living up to our image.
It wasn’t until I got in the military that my name became a nuisance. The Army had what they called a signature block. First name, middle initial, last name. There was no variance. “Sarge, what about “P. J. Rice?” “What, you don’t have a first name?” So for all 28 years of my military career, I was Paul J. Rice.
When I joined the Army, you could read my signature. But over the years, it flattened out. The “Paul” is still somewhat legible, but the “J” has folded into the “l” in “Paul,” and the rest has ended up in a straight line. I am not proud of this, but what are you going to do?
When I was the Commandant of the JAG School from 1985 to 1988, I signed over 10,000 diplomas and not one of them is readable. A few hundred of them were for master of laws degrees and probably are hanging on someone’s wall. A visitor may ask, “Whose signature is that?” And the degree holder will say, “Beats the hell out of me.”
The only advantage in not using your first name is when the telephone rings and a friendly voice on the other end says, “Paul, how are you?” You know immediately that the person doesn’t know you and is probably trying to sell you something.
When I retired from the Army, I became Chief Counsel at the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. The Administrator was named Jerry Curry and our director of government affairs was Jamie Fish. The Agency was being run by Curry, Fish and Rice.
At NHTSA, I was permitted to change my signature block to whatever I wanted. “P. Jackson Rice” did nothing for me. I finally decided on Paul Jackson Rice. The good new was that I didn’t have to change my signature. I just made the straight line a little longer. Since I am a stickler for details, I want you to know that even though you could not see the “i” in “Rice,” I always dotted it.