Poems

Fifty Years Together

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Carole and I celebrated our 50th Wedding Anniversary on the 6th of June.  It always reminds me of the old guy who just completed 50 years of marriage and was asked how he felt about it.  He said, “Well, it’s been OK, but I wouldn’t want to do it for another 50 years.”

Love is different after 50 years than it was after two years.  Brad Paisley has a number one country hit out right now and it is entitled, “Then.”  The lines that struck me are as follows: “Now you’re my whole life, Now you’re my whole world, I just can’t believe the way I feel about you girl.  We’ll look back some day at this moment that we’re in, And I’ll look at you and say, And I thought I loved you then.”


 


               Fifty Years Together

To Carole, my Carole, my very special potion,
I give you my love and all my devotion.
For fifty years we’ve traveled the journey,
Together through law school, then as an attorney        

Twenty-eight years in the Army, some happy, some sad,
We struggled with Fat Charlie, now that was bad.
Two tours in Germany, a separation in Nam.
But, excitement a plenty, all we could cram.

A child in law school, a child at Fort Hood,
A child in Germany, a surprise, but good.
We raised our children from post to post,
They’ve made us proud, of that we boast.

We’ve been partners together when decisions were made,
Like our career in the Army, we carefully weighed.
Some were traumatic, not made with glee,
Like the wrenching decision to come back to D.C.

You’re still the queen I love to embrace,
With your beautiful hair and lovely face.
With your soft skin and complexion so fair,
A delight to look at, someone so rare.

Life’s not always rosy, there are times when we fought,
Over things that I’ve done, and things that you’ve bought.
I’m writing this poem to express my devotion,
To the love of my life, with your constant commotion.
But, we’re always a pair, a perfect blend,
You’re my partner, my love and my very best friend.

RAJA

RAJA in the Big Easy

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Life is good.  Over the Memorial Day holiday a large number of retired Army JAGs descended on New Orleans for our annual RAJA meeting.  We assembled at the Hotel Monteleone right smack in the French Quarter.

Expensive?  Not really and remember, we all have Army retirement checks and most of us are on Social Security.  Plus, we got our Social Security stimulus checks.  So, we stimulated the New Orleans’ economy.

Dennis and Jeanne Hunt hosted RAJA (Retired Army Judge Advocate Association – maybe it should be RAJAA – not the kind of issue you want to raise in an organization consisting only of lawyers).  I was planning on saying that Dennis and Jeanne’s planning and execution were as efficient as Mussolini’s on-time trains.  But, then I looked it up on Snopes.com and the Mussolini bit is a myth.  Man, I think I was happier before Snopes.  Anyway, Dennis and Jeanne did a fantastic job!

On the first full day, we toured New Orleans.  Of course, if you are going to tour the Big Easy, you have to visit one of their cemeteries.  As you probably know, because of the water level, all of the caskets are placed in above-ground tombs.  Our tour guide explained the process of removing old remains to make room for the new deceased member of the family.  I think you have to live your whole life in New Orleans to go along with that process.  After hearing of the process, all I could think of was the Church Lady on Saturday Night Live saying, “Isn’t that special.”

Our tour guide told us that we were at the cemetery (St. Louis Cemetery # 1) that was damaged and desecrated during the filming of the movie, Easy Rider.  I don’t remember the cemetery scene.  I only remember that the movie had a happy ending.  There were no complaints from residents of the cemeteries about Katrina.  But, some of those same residents are still receiving relief checks.

The bus trip took all day and we never left the city.  But, I had no idea where I was.  The tour guide would say, “The river is on our left.”  “Now, the river is on our right.”  “The lake is behind you.”  “This area was all under water.”  Duh, big help.

It has been almost four years since Katrina and the parts of the city we looked at showed great signs of recovery.  But, who knows what we didn’t see.  The amount of human suffering that went on during the storm and its aftermath is impossible to quantify.  Let’s hope that the lesson we took away from Katrina will insure it doesn’t happen again (Not the natural disaster, but the way we handled it).

RAJA was a great success.  Tim Naccarato is the third leader of this august body.  John Jay Douglass was the president for the first twenty plus years.  He and Bruce Babbitt ran the financials for the organization on the back of an envelope.  Now that takes skill.  Anyway, in 1994, while in Reno, Nevada the organization rolled the dice and selected a board of directors to carry the group forward.  Jim Mundt was selected to take John Jay’s place and RAJA moved forward. 

Then, in 2005, Tim took the reins.  One of the first things he did was do away with the cumbersome site selection committee.  Tim now twists arms until someone agrees to host a future meeting.  This is much more effective that the site selection committee.  Because everyone knows what he is up to, a lot of his emails are never answered.  But, he has lined up Steve and Pauline Lancaster to host next year in Indianapolis, and Dave and Lynn Graham and Fred and Janet Borch to host 2011 in Charlottesville, the Home of the Army Lawyer.  In a weak moment Tim convinced Mike Marchand to host 2012 in Dallas.  Please keep the latter confidential, because Mike hasn’t told his wife, Jan, yet.

Well,  RAJA survived New Orleans, and New Orleans survived RAJA.  No surprises there.  Sadly, the only lesson I took away from the meeting is that I don’t want to be buried in New Orleans.  Because it is a given that sometime in the future, someone is going to break into your casket, gather your bones and pitch them to make room for a new visitor.  Yuk.

Golf Daze

Fort Belvior is Gobbling Up Golf Courses

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When I was a little kid, I learned that if I broke something that belonged to another kid, I had to pay for it or replace it.  That’s just fair.  Fairness is a good standard by which to live your life.  I have really tried to do so.  Of course, what I think is fair, someone else may not.  It can be subjective.  So you be my objective voice and let me know what you think about the following.

The Army seems to be gobbling up the golf courses at Fort Belvoir and not replacing them or providing restitution.  I don’t think that is fair.  Fort Belvoir had a delightful nine hole course on the South Post.  It was pretty flat and open and not too long.  It was ideal for young soldiers learning how to play and elderly people who wanted to walk the course and get some exercise.  Then the Army decided it needed a newer, larger hospital and began to build on the South Nine.  The South Nine Golf Course disappeared.

Now, you might say, “Hey, the Army can do what it wants with its property.”  But all Army property is not the same.  The South Nine Golf Course was a nonappropriated fund (NAF) property.  When I was an instructor at The JAG School in Charlottesville, Virginia, back in the early 70’s, I taught a one-hour course called Nonappropriated Funds.  It was really deadly.  It may have been the deadliest course at the School.  But, the students needed to know that all funds were not appropriated by Congress.  The Post Exchange and other programs generated money for the benefit of the troops.  That money was nonappropriated funds and the Army was to use the funds for the morale, welfare and recreation of the troops and their dependents.  I would tell the students, who were still awake, that the Army held the nonappropriated funds in trust for the morale and welfare of soldiers and their dependents.  They can’t take it away or give it away without restitution.

Not too long ago, there was a Corps of Engineer project that, in effect, would wipe out a soccer field at Fort Belvoir.  So before the field was destroyed, the Post make arrangements to build another soccer field to replace the one that was being destroyed.  Now, that’s how I believe the system should work.  The soccer field was a nonappropriated fund property (morale, welfare and recreation – MWR) and the Army met its obligation as trustee of the MWR funds by making restitution in kind.  However, it didn’t work that way with the South Nine Golf Course.  The only distinction between the two situations is that they had soccer moms!

Now, the Army has its sights set on building the National Museum of the United States Army (NMUSA) on the front nine of the Gunston Golf Course on the North Post at Fort Belvoir.  Fort Belvoir has two adjoining golf courses on the North Post, Gunston and Woodlawn.  Both are championship length courses.  I don’t want to get into site selection.  Obviously, I didn’t want them putting the museum on my golf course.  But, well-meaning officials decided to put it there.  But, what about restitution?  What about holding in trust morale, welfare and recreation property (paid for with nonappropriated funds) for soldiers and their dependents?  Some not-so-well-meaning officials decided that Fort Belvoir only needed 27 holes.

Two years ago, we had 45 holes.  Now, they are talking about 27 holes.  I can just hear the conversation.  The commander asks, “Can they get by with 27 holes?”  And, the staff says, “Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.”  What about holding NAF property in trust?  What about restitution?  Where are their heads?   I know I keep repeating myself.  I can’t help it.  I keep frothing at the mouth and by the time I get myself cleaned up, I just start over again.  Fairness, restitution, fairness.  I’ll be back in a minute.

The money for the museum is supposed to come mostly from donations.  It ain’t happening.  In 2007, they had contributions of over five million dollars, but they had expenses of over three million.  They aren’t going to get to $200 million that way.  I donated early on, so I have received a lot of their subsequent solicitations.  In my opinion, the solicitations are too expensive and slick.  The last time I observed such slick solicitations was the Ollie North campaign for senator.

Please understand that I am all in favor of an Army museum.  If it has to be on the Gunston front nine, so be it (the latest drawings have them encroaching on holes 11 and 12 on the back nine for a parking lot).  But, please rework the Gunston Course along with the museum.  That is only fair and it will keep the Army from looking like a negligent fiduciary (or worse).

There was an Army funded feasibility study completed in November 2008 regarding whether 27 holes would be sufficient.  In all fairness, this should have been done before the “three bags full” decision.  The study concluded that the course, reduced to 27 holes could lose over a quarter of a million dollars a year.  So I think we are going to end up with approval for 36 holes, but no money to build them.  The money should come from the Army.  The Army is holding the Gunston Course in trust (here I go again).  The Army needs to make restitution.

Here is the scenario I see.  The Army breaks ground on construction on time.  They have already been drilling for core samples on the front nine, even though the environmental assessment hasn’t been approved to select the location.  And, of course, the environmental assessment will have alternate selection sites as it is required, even though the Army has pushed ahead and selected the Gunston site.  Is that legal?   I used to teach Environmental Law, but it was too may moons ago.  I see them tearing up the course and then, not having the money to build the museum.

I’m not the only one who thinks there won’t be enough donations.  The AUSA (Association of the United States Army), a private organization focused on the best interests of the Army, has just submitted a legislative resolution to Congress.  It requests Congress to “provide funding for the facility at Fort Belvoir, Virginia to house the National Museum of the United States Army.”

If Congress funds the museum, I hope there is some extra in there to make the Gunston Course whole.  The restitution I am talking about should be part of the over all museum project.  That is the only fair solution.

Northwestern Law

The Case of the Missing Check


I’ve mentioned before about my year at Northwestern University School of Law.  I mentioned that I earned an LL.M. in Criminal Law, but I never mentioned what I had to do to get the degree.  I had to earn 12 hours and write a thesis.  Six of those hours (and 90% of my time) came from carrying a case load down at the Cook County Jail.

There were about nine of us in the graduate program and we were assigned to represent “clients” at the jail.  We were like public defenders, but with a very limited case load.  My observation of the public defenders was that they had so many clients that many of them couldn’t represent any of their clients very well.

Bill Martin was our program leader.  No, he never managed the Yankees.  But, what he did do was prosecute Richard Speck for raping and murdering eight Filipino student nurses in Chicago.  The police found Speck’s finger print on the inside of a closet door from the nurses’ apartment.  Bill introduced the entire door into evidence.  Talk about demonstrative evidence.  It took the jury 49 minutes to find Speck guilty and recommend his execution.  Anyway, by 1969, Bill Martin had left the State’s Attorneys Office and was teaching at Northernwestern Law.  The Ford Foundation was funding the graduate criminal defense program to which I was attached.

Probably the most significant case we defended during the year involved a felony murder charge.  A black man came into a jewelry store and attempted to cash a Park Department pay check.  He ended up robbing the store and killing the owner.  Our client, Eugene Overstreet, worked for the Park Department and his name was on the check (the check was gratuitously left behind at the scene of the crime).  Overstreet insisted he never received the check.  The wife of the dead owner identified Overstreet in a police lineup as the robber/murderer.

Bill Martin actually took the lead in defending Overstreet, but a number of us in the program worked different angles of the case.  One of my tasks was to try to find out what happened to the check.  If the prosecution could put the check in Overstreet’s hands, we could fold our tent and slip silently into the night.

How does one get a city job with the Park Department?  Keep in mind that this is Chicago.  The answer is you go see your Ward Committeeman.  Overstreet knew a committeeman and was able to get the Park Department job.  The problem was that he didn’t live in the committeeman’s ward.  Let’s face it, if the system is going to work, you have to live in the ward where you are being sponsored.  In order to help Overstreet out and stay within the “rules,” the committeeman let Overstreet use his street address on the job application.  Now, Overstreet “lived” in the right ward.

As fate would have it, Overstreet copied the street address incorrectly.  The address he put down was to a vacant lot.  Overstreet didn’t know this, but it was not a problem because, on payday, he would pick up the check at the Park Department Office.

Regarding the check in question, Overstreet was somewhere else on pay day.  When he came in the next day to pick up his check, he was told it already had been mailed.  When he checked with the committeeman, he was advised that he hadn’t received the check.  We could verify all of the above facts.  We also discovered the error in the mailing address.

Bill Martin asked me and Ty Fahner to track the route of the check.  Ty subsequently became the Attorney General for the State of Illinois and is presently a partner with Mayer Brown.  We suspected that if someone at the Post Office knew that the Park Department check was going to a vacant lot, they might just put it in their pocket.  Chicago’s main post office was, at the time, one of the largest post offices in the world.  It was a monster.  With the help of a postal official, we started at the end of the building where the mail came in and followed the route the letter/check would have taken through the building.  I should have worn gym shoes.

Even back in the late sixties, the post office had sophisticated equipment to send letters on their way.  A letter would be picked up by an automated arm and the operator would type in the zip code.  Then the arm would place the letter on a conveyor belt and away it would go.  Somewhere down the line, it would end up in the proper basket.  The final sorting, however, was done just like Ben Franklin did it when he was the Postmaster for Philadelphia in 1763.  Someone stood in front of a bunch of cubby holes and flipped in the mail.  We learned that the individuals assigned to sort mail for a particular area did not live in that area.  Thus, they would not know of a vacant lot.

Of course, the mailman would know.  When we spoke to him, he was convincing that he had received no mail to deliver to the vacant lot.  So we never could prove who took the letter, but with the help of the testimony of two post office officials we were able to satisfy the court that Overstreet never received the check.

Bill Martin convinced Overstreet to be tried by judge alone (no jury).  Since it was the check that put Overstreet at the scene of the crime, the case disassembled.  The eye witness testimony proved not to be a problem.  After the judge acquitted Overstreet, he told Bill that if he ever got in trouble, he hoped he could afford Bill’s representation.  Hey, what about the gang of nine?

Random Thoughts

Bloggedy Blog Blog

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I’m trying to figure out what’s happening.  When I was on active duty, I used to write columns for the Post newspaper and even in the local town paper.  After I retired, I missed not being published.  So, here I am, a blogger.

If a blogger blogs and nobody reads it, does it make less noise than the unheard tree falling in the forest?  Deep huh?  Well, my webmeister is GoDaddy.Com.  They help me out by keeping statistics on how many hits I am getting (and even which articles are most popular).

I check the stats all the time and about four months ago, they changed their statistical format.  The new system is called “new statistics tool”.  But, they haven’t done away with the old system.  They now call the old system “classic statistics tool”.  Does that sound familiar?  I think that is exactly what Coke did.

The “classic” tool and the “new” tool never jibe.  Their techs have explained to me that “hits” and “views” are different.  OK, I guess it is better to get a view that a hit.  Before writing this, I decided to make it my quest to understand the difference.  Now, I understand more, but I am sorry that I do.  It appears that the “new statistics tool” does not include visits to my site “from web crawling bots.”  I had no idea that web crawling bots were looking at my blog site.  If I write something funny, will a web crawling bot laugh?  For that and other reasons, I am going to be more careful what I write.  I wonder if the web crawling bots are anything like the critters in The Matrix.

As I mentioned, I can keep track of how many hits I get each day and also, what blogs people are reading.  If you Google “green visor,” Ricequips comes up.  And, I have a lot of hits from people trying to find the elusive green visor.  Then, I published a poem about Wayne and Marie Alley.  You may not know who they are, but, I guess there are a lot of people who do.  I get a lot of hits on Wayne and Marie.  I suspect they come from real people.  I don’t think Wayne and Marie know any web crawling bots.

In February, 2008, I wrote a blog entitled “Bomb Threats at Washington Square.”  It’s filed under The Fox.  It tells about a maddening summer back in 1997, when crank bomb threats were called into our building.  We would evacuate for hours, three to four times a week.  I thought it was a cute story, but I’m not fair and impartial (like Fox News).  Well, here it is over a year later and all of a sudden, I’m getting over 50 hits each day.  What’s going on?  Are these people or critters?

I know with the search engines out there, titles are important (that’s why I worked so long and hard to get this one just right).  For example, if I mention in the title, “child seat safety,” there would be a large number of well-meaning consumer groups who would scrutinize every word.  Now, I mentioned “bomb threats.”  Are terrorists interested in that?  I doubt it.  What really scares me is that our Government may be interested in people writing about bomb threats.  That’s all I need.  “No, no, not the water board again!”

I’ll bet the answer is less sinister than I have conjured up.  I mentioned my old boss, Jerry Curry and how, at that time, he was running for President.  Maybe the Curry fans found the blog.  Then, there is also the possibility that I have finally been discovered by someone other that the web crawling bots.

For a limited time, you can still subscribe to Ricequips.com for FREE.  Just what this country needs in this time of economic strife.

Sporting Daze

Washington Capitals, Celebration, Castigation, Huh?


On March 19, 2009, the Washington Capitals beat the Tampa Bay Lightning 5-2.  In the first period, Alex Ovechkin, the Capitals’ star and last year’s league MVP notched his 50th goal.  After the goal, he celebrated by dropping his stick and acting as if it were too hot to pick up.  If we were talking about the NFL, this would not be worth mentioning, but in hockey, you can knock out the opponent’s front teeth, but you shouldn’t be over zealous in celebrating a goal.

The coach for Tampa Bay is Rick Tocchet.  He was upset about the celebration and said, “I grew up in the old days in the Spectrum [Philly arena] where in the first period, after that happened, it might have been a three-hour first period.”  There are three periods in a hockey game.  Each lasts twenty minutes on the clock.  It usually takes 30 – 40 minutes to play a period.  Tocchet’s three-hour period would have consisted mostly of brawling.  Blood on the ice is consistent with hockey etiquette.

The name Rick Tocchet sets me off.  Back in March 1997 (so what if it was 12 years ago), the Capitals entered into a trade with Boston which brought Adam Oates and Rick Tocchet to Washington.  Oates showed up and became a big part of the Capitals.  Tocchet let it be known that he didn’t want to be here and left the first chance he got.  He mentioned that he had played in Philadelphia, Pittsburgh and Boston and wanted to play where there was a rich hockey tradition.  I felt bad, but I understood that Washington, back then, did not have a “rich hockey tradition.”  So where did Tocchet go?  He went to Phoenix!  In the term “rich hockey tradition,” the emphasis was on the word “rich.”  Where will I get the most bucks.

My personal view on the “hot stick celebration” is that it was probably too close to the Tampa Bay goalie.  Using an NFL analogy, you don’t spike the football at the feet of the defensive safety.  I don’t think there was any intention to embarrass the goalie, but, Alex, move a little farther away.  But to have Rick Tocchet playing the roll of the righteous indignant observer boggles my mind.

In February 2006, Tocchet was served with a criminal complaint accusing him of financing a nationwide sports gambling ring based in New Jersey.  Janet Jones, the Great Gretzky’s wife, was also charged.  In May 2006, Tocchet and Jones notified New Jersey that they intended to sue for 50 million dollars for defamation (back before the Obama Administration, that used to be a lot of money).  Anyway, the ploy didn’t work.

On May 25, 2007, Tocchet pleaded guilty to conspiracy and promoting gambling.  It’s unfortunate when one is caught conducting criminal activity, but if someone is over zealous in celebrating a goal, then one is required to indignantly speak out.

Tocchet said that Ovechkin “went down a notch in my books.”  Well, I only have one such book and Tocchet can’t get much lower.  I will try not to be too over zealous in my celebration when Tampa Bay (24-52) fires him.

Mizzou

It’s Tough Being a MIZZOU Fan

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I have a large magnetic helmet that I slap on the side of my car door during football season.   The helmet has a block “M” on it.  Periodically, someone will ask me when I went to Michigan.  What idiots.  There is probably no helmet more distinctive that Michigan’s and it certainly doesn’t have a block “M”.

It’s tough being a Mizzou fan out here on the East coast.  The Washington Post thinks any game played West of the Mississippi is a late start and they don’t post the score.

The NCAA tournament is getting ready to start and you can bet that the TV announcers will be showing the UCLA victory over Mizzou in 1995.  We are always the backdrop for some sensational or outrageous play.

In the UCLA game, we were ahead by one point and there were 4.8 seconds left in the game.  UCLA’s Tyus Edney got the ball under his own basket and raced down the court dodging Mizzou players.  He threw the ball up and scored just before the buzzer.  UCLA 75, Mizzou 74.  I’ll get to see that play at least five time in the next few weeks.  Hey, it was 14 years ago.  Give it a rest.

Did I mention that UCLA went on to win the NCAA championship that year.  Always the backdrop.  I got to thinking.  I’ll bet that damn thing is on You Tube.  Once you start thinking like that it’s kind of hard not to look.  Yep, it’s there.

In 1990, the Colorado Buffaloes were declared the college football national champions.  Would you like to hazard a guess as to whom they beat on the last play of the game, which happened to be their fifth down?  You are right.  It was Mizzou.  We got stuck with officials who couldn’t court past four.

After Colorado completed a pass and got a first down, the quarterback raced up and spiked the ball (down one).  They then ran a play and failed to score (down two).  Colorado called its last time out.  An official on the sideline failed to flip the down marker.  Colorado ran the ball again and Mizzou held (down three).  Then the QB spiked the ball again (down four!).  And, on the fifth down, Colorado scored to win the game.

My son, Paul, was at the game and he and many of the fans in the student section knew it was fifth down.  But who is going to listen to the screams of the student section?  It would have been nice if one of the Mizzou coaches would have known what down it was.  I refuse to look on You Tube.  It’s too depressing.

I’ve got to get this over fast.  Reliving these moments is not healthy.  In 1997, Mizzou is beating Nebraska and Big Red is down to its last play.  A pass is thrown to Nebraska’s Wiggins in the end zone.  Mizzou’s Julien Jones slaps the ball free from Wiggins’ hands.  Just before the ball hits the ground, Wiggins kicks the ball up in the air (you can’t to that) and another Nebraska player dives and catches the ball.  I thought it touched the ground, but there was no instant replay in 1997 and some official who was concentrating on getting the downs right called it a touchdown.  That tied the game and Nebraska prevailed in overtime.

In recent years, things have gotten better.  Our football teams have been winning (and beating up on Nebraska).  Mizzou’s basketball team is having a great year.  We are seeded third in the NCAA tournament with a 28-6 record.  We just won the Big 12 Tournament so I flipped open the Washington Post to see what it had to say about our beating Baylor for the championship.  The headline said, “Baylor’s Big 12 Run is Halted in Title Game.”  Well that’s the Washington Post.

I decided to go on line and see what the St. Louis Post-Dispatch had to say.  I needed something warm and fuzzy.  So, how does the Post-Dispatch headline read?  I couldn’t make this up.  It says, “It’s back to Boise for No. 3 seed Mizzou.  Tigers return to site of their heartbreaking loss to UCLA in 1995.”  Enough already!  Enough!

NHTSA

Child Seat Safety and the Plight of the Manufacturer

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The question I have is why would anyone want to manufacture child safety seats?  It makes about as much sense as being a bull rider.  Bull riding probably makes more sense, because they are quite popular and do very well with the ladies, until they get stomped on a few times.  Child seat manufacturers need only look forward to being stomped.

Don’t get me wrong.  I think child seats are wonderful.  Any parent who doesn’t put their infant in a child seat should have their head examined.  Child safety seats save lives.  But, manufacturers take on great risks in selling them.

First, the seat has to comply with Federal standards.  There’s a crash test to ensure the seat and child will survive a crash.  There are buckle tests to ensure that buckles don’t open too easily, but will open after a crash.  They need to have appropriate hardware which will attach to the cars they are put in.  Those clasps have to be able to withstand so many pounds of pressure that might occur in a crash.  The straps have to pass strength tests and all the fabrics have to pass stringent flammability tests.

Is that so unreasonable?  I don’t think so.  The manufactures accept the requirements as their responsibility.  They want to make a safe product.  They test their seats to ensure that they comply with all the requirements.

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) is responsible for setting the standards.  When I was Chief Counsel for the agency, we tested every new seat to every standard.  We were hyper over child seat safety.  If there was a problem, usually the manufacturer stepped up and recalled the product.  But, some manufacturers just stopped making child seats.

Then, there’s the litigation involved in child seats.  If there is a crash and a child secured in a child seat is injured, you can pretty much bet on a law suit.  It doesn’t matter how many cars were involved, or the speed of the vehicles, or the direction of impact, the company will be sued.  Litigation is one of our national pastimes.  While some times it is definitely justified, many times it is not.

I remember a case where a man’s wife died when she rolled the car and it went off an overpass.  It landed on its roof.  He sued the car manufacturer because the air bag didn’t deploy.  Then there was the one where the woman decided to commit suicide by locking herself in the trunk of her car.  After a few days, she changed her mind.  But, she couldn’t get out.  She was eventually found and survived.  She sued the car manufacturer and recovered.  I guess there should have been a warning in the trunk.

After I left NHTSA, I joined Arent Fox and had the opportunity to represent child seat manufacturers.  Century Products made a great infant seat called the 590.  It was the best selling infant seat.  The base stayed hooked in the car while the infant seat lifted out and acted as a carrier for the child.  Century had never received a complaint regarding separation of the base and the seat in a crash.  Not bad.  But, not good enough.

One day, back in 1995, Consumers Union notified Century that they had crash tested the 590 and that it had failed.  The tests had taken place a few months earlier, but Consumers Union kept the results secret from Century.  They wanted to splash the story in their Consumer Reports magazine.  CU also petitioned NHTSA to recall the 590 for being defective.  Well NHTSA eventually denied CU’s petition, but not soon enough to save the 590.  Life isn’t fair.

I question the motives of Consumers Union, who is suppose to be the friend of the consumer, but conceals safety testing for months.  If their testing showed a safety concern, shouldn’t they quickly notify the manufacturer, or the government or the public?

If I were going to buy a vacuum cleaner or a toaster, I might look at what Consumer Reports had to say.  Then again, maybe I wouldn’t.  But, if we are talking about a product where there is dynamic testing, such as a car seat, or an automobile, I wouldn’t trust Consumers Union.  I don’t think they are qualified and they are too interested in a dramatic story. 

Back in 1996 or 97, I went into a Ford dealership to get some literature on the Ford Explorer.  Some tall skinny dude in a cowboy hat told me they didn’t have any material to give me, but that the Explorer was ranked number one in Consumer Reports.  I got out of there and saved myself and family from being part of the rollover debacle.

Let me get back to my child safety seat proposal.  And it has nothing to do with Consumers Union trying to play the Wizard of Oz.  If a product is mandated by the government (as child seats are in most states), and the Federal government specifies safety requirements for the product, then meeting or exceeding those safety requirements should preclude product liability law suits that attempt to hold the manufacturer to some different standard.  Now there’s some Congressional legislation I could live with and it wouldn’t cost the government any money.

Random Thoughts

Streaking and Gargoyling

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It was 1974 and I was teaching at The Judge Advocate General’s School, which is located on the grounds of the University of Virginia in Charlottesville.  Students were no longer protesting the Vietnam War.  For all practical purposes, it was over.  So how were these students, many away from home for the first time, to expend their energy.  The answer was streaking.

Streaking became quite popular on campuses across the nation.  It didn’t matter whether there was an athletic event or the outdoor meeting of the Ladies Horticultural Society, some young dude, naked as a jaybird, would go streaking through the event.  One of our Basic Class Graduations was interrupted by a streaker (and it was indoors).  No one seemed to get too upset.

The levity of the situation caused me to sit down and write the following letter to the editor of the Daily Progress newspaper.  They published it under the title, “After Streaking, What?”

Dear Editor:

Rah, Rah, Raw for the streaking streakers of this wonderful country.  No one should really complain.  Youth has always had an overabundance of energy and it must be expended.  So why not streak?  Just keep in mind that three years ago, some were expending their energy making bombs and burning down ROTC buildings on campus.  Bless their streaking streaks.

However, I am concerned about the longevity of streaking.  While streaking is great for comfortable spring days, I fear that the heat of the summer will have a deterrent effect upon even the heartiest of streakers and that the sport will wane.  In short, streaking will soon be out of season.

I submit that those of us who advocate harmless frolic are compelled to bring forth an acceptable substitute.  After some careful thought, I believe that gargoyling is an acceptable substitute.  This practice would consist of the student climbing up on the outside of a university building in the nude and assuming a position on the facade as a gargoyle.  Our society has long accepted the appearance of weird looking gargoyles on buildings, so it would be inconsistent to object to gargoyling.

While university students have competed to see which could gather the largest group of streakers, gargoyling, too, can have its competitive aspects;  for example, most gargoyles on campus, or the highest gargoyle on campus, or the weirdest looking gargoyle.  The ultimate contest could be gargoyling for the longest period of time.  Any student  who could hold his pose for over four hours would definitely be a contender.  By then, he would surely be subjected to fatigue, the campus police and those nasty birds.

While I realize that gargoyling, like streaking, suffers from the malady of being seasonal, those of us who are organizing the Society for the Encouragement of Harmless Frolics are already concerning ourselves with the selection of a winter sport.

                                                                    Sincerely,

                                                                    P. J. Rice

Random Thoughts

Dog Bites, Drug Addicts and Modern Medicine

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The twelfth year of my life should have been a good one.  I was learning how to pitch.  My Dad, who caught professionally, was really excited about the way I was throwing the ball.  I was playing “B” League baseball (ages 10-13) in East St. Louis and no pitcher could be 13.  So, this was my year.  The sky was the limit.

Early in the summer, a bunch of kids were taking their bicycles out Bunkum Road and so, I raced home to get my bike.  On my way to catch them, a dog started chasing the bike.  I decided that if I just ignored the dog, I would be OK.  What a dumb idea.  The dog bit me on the calf.  It wasn’t a bad bite, but it broke the skin.  I went home and my Mom took me to the doctor’s office.  We waited all afternoon and when we saw the doctor, he gave me a tetanus shot and told us we needed to find the dog.   Well, we tried, but we never did.

The moral of the story is if you are ever bit by a dog, don’t loss sight of the mutt.  I was bit again while in Vietnam and my earlier experience paid off.  I found the owner of the dog and when the dog died (that was scary), I practically lived with the veterinarians until they let me know that the dog did not have rabies.

At age twelve, I had to take the rabies shots.  Doc Stein explained that they were given one a day for 14 days and they needed to be given in the lining of the stomach.  After each shot, I had to lay down for about 15 minutes.  I felt like I had been kicked by a horse.  Doc Stein was out of town for shots 13 and 14.  So, his father, the elder Doctor Stein gave me the shots.  He explained that there was no absolute requirement that they be given in the stomach.  He gave me shots in the buttocks and thigh that were both painless.  I just checked, and today the rabies vaccine consists of four shots and they are given in the arm, like a flu shot.  What a rip.

I had my last shot on Wednesday and started getting sick on Friday.  I was weak, miserable and throwing up.  Mom took me to see Doc Stein on Saturday and he gave me some cold medicine.  We finally got him to come to the house late Sunday afternoon (Yes, they really did make house calls).  I was rushed to the hospital.  My white blood cell count was out of sight.  I had an appendicitis.

When they operated Monday morning, it turned out my appendix had ruptured and gangrene had set in.  I found out later that Doc Stein could not complete the operation and that another doctor stepped in and saved me.  I was one sick puppy.  Thank goodness for penicillin.  Every four hours, I would get a penicillin shot in my bottom.  I got to where, during the night, I could roll over and get the shot without even waking up.  My bottom looked like a pin cushion.  They left a long drainage tube in me which required my bandages to be changed every day.  Every few days, they would pull out a little of my tube and cut it off.  Now there is a strange sensation.

I was in the hospital for about three weeks.  My pitching career was over.  About a month after I got out of the hospital and while still under Doc Stein’s care, it came out in the local newspaper that Doc Stein and his wife were both addicted to morphine.  This made a lot of things fall into place.  That’s why he couldn’t finish the operation.  That’s why he had to wait until his wife got home with the car to come see me that Sunday, when they had three cars.  I also remember his secretary telling me how fantastic he was with an hypodermic needle (lots of practice).  The only good news was that office visits took less time.  He was only permitted to care for patients already under his care.

In the fall, I went out for junior high football.  I made it through the three tough weeks of preseason ball, but when the doctor showed up for physicals, I knew I was in trouble.  The hole where the tube had been had healed, but not properly.  The doctor told me that he would not approve my physical, but if I could get my doctor’s approval, I could play.  I went to see Doc Stein and he cut the skin tissue over the hole and let it drain.  I remember him saying, “This shouldn’t hurt.”  Maybe he was referring to himself.  It hurt like hell.  I healed up fine, but my 8th grade football season was over.  What a helpless feeling.

No one will ever convince me that the rabies shots in the stomach weren’t the cause of my appendix going bad and rupturing.  I have never gotten a doctor to agree with me.  They can’t tell me what caused my appendicitis.  They would just blow me off.  But, these are the guys who used to put leeches on people.

BOO! I saw you smile!