Growing Up Then and Now

Meanwhile, back in prison, Lenora kept rounding up good recommendations from the prison guards, and had me coming to visit monthly for updates and new information (a 90 minute round trip).  I told her not to be optimistic – few pardons are granted.   She was on the next Pardons Hearings list when the Legislature passed The Sentencing Guidelines Law which included a provision that all currently sentenced inmates could request re-sentencing under the New Guidelines!  I quickly looked up the recommended sentence for a first time kidnapper – and called Lenora – only 30 months!  She had a good chance of getting out as soon as I could put the paperwork together.  Which is what happened.  She was excited as all get-out as her release date approached – calling me every day to make sure nothing had gone wrong.  On the day before her release she called and asked if I would come pick her up.  That thought had never occurred to me.  I assumed she had friends on the outside.  “Of course not,” I said, “I’ve got law work I have to do.”

“Well at least come join me for a drink after you’re done working,” she said.  “Okay,” I said, and we made plans to meet at the Corral Bar on Lake Street not far from my office.  When I got there she was the only one in a booth passed-out.  Turns out they really do hand you a $100 bill as walking money and wish you good luck.  That’s it.  No plans for a job, a place to live, or any kind of a reunification with the community.  It had never occurred to me that I needed to ask Lenora what her plans were once I got her out.  My job was to get her out – and that would be the end of my knowing Lenora.  Maybe I should have known better remembering she had no real family left.  I perked her up, found out she had spent the entire $100 on booze for bar patrons who had abandoned her after the money was gone, and loaded her into my car.  Every so often I pulled over so she could barf again.  She was finally sober enough for me to ask where she was going to stay that night.  “I have nowhere to stay – can I stay at your place?” she asked.  Again, this was totally unexpected, I never thought this would be part of my being her lawyer.  Well, what was I going to do?  “Okay,” I said.

When we got to my place I made some soup and fixed the couch for me to sleep on.  “You’ve got to be kidding,” she said, “I did hard time!  Get in bed with me!”  Well, what’s a guy going to do?  The next morning I called one of the prison guards who had written such a glowing recommendation for her pardon, and, fortunately, that guard quickly saw the whole picture, had quite a heart and a spare bedroom for Lenora until she found her own place.

Lenora kept calling me every so often and I’m very happy to report she soon met a really nice guy and started a new family – I even got invited to her son’s Sixth Grade Graduation.  All part of being a good lawyer.

When the P-9ers went on strike in Austin against Hormel, it was national news.  When the local Judge signed a restraining order forbidding the strikers and their sympathizers from stopping scabs from crossing the picket line, 224 people got arrested and charged with obstructing justice.  The local chapter of the National Lawyers Guild was enlisted to provide a defense.  I figured out a way we could represent all 224 of them.  First I set up ten teams of two lawyers each and assigned each team 20 or so clients.  Then I went to the first court hearing and told the Judge we were demanding 224 separate jury trials (way too many for the system to handle), but that if the prosecutor was willing to do a “representative trial” with just two of those charged, one represented by me, and one pro se, then the other 222 were agreed to abide by whatever verdict that one jury decided in the one trial.  The Judge was on board fast and convinced the prosecutor this was the way to go.

The reason for two in the trial, and one pro se (pro se means on your own without a lawyer), was to be able to have two opening arguments, two closing arguments, etc.  But what I didn’t say was that the one pro se Defendant was hand-picked by P-9ers because he was a local minister and known for his ability to be persuasive.  His name was Benny Thompson and he gave the best opening statement I’ve ever heard – even to this day.  Good thing, because during the jury selection process, I had messed up the signals from the spectators’ galley as to which prospective jurors were known as union sympathizers, and which had ties to The Hormel Company.  I let the daughter of a Company Vice-President get on, and she became the Jury Forelady!

But Benny saved me.  After he sat down all I had to do was put the evidence in with some semblance to the allegorical story he had told.  Telling an allegory is not really allowed by the Rules of Court, but because Benny was pro se the prosecutor didn’t want to object and make it seem to the jury like he was unwilling to allow Rev. Thompson a say in his own defense.    Here’s what the Reverend told a jury of his peers:

                             “Imagine you’re a bunch of kids who saw some shiny new bicycles in a store window and asked your parents to buy them for you.  Your parents said they didn’t have enough money and told you to go get jobs.

                        You found jobs delivering newspapers for a penny a paper.    Then one of you had this great idea, and asked the newspaper owner if you could get a penny and a half for any new customers you found.  The owner said okay.  You worked hard, found new customers; and your parents loaned you the money to buy the bikes.  But when the kids in the next town saw your new bikes, they got jealous and told the newspaper owner they would deliver all the papers for a penny apiece.

                                When the owner said okay to them, you complained but were told “It’s not in writing.  If you want your jobs you have to deliver all the papers, new customers and old customers, for a penny apiece.”

P-9ers on strike – Black Sheep on trial

Then you went to your parents, but they said “Look, we loaned you the money and need to get paid back.  Keep those jobs even if only a penny a paper.”

                            Then you went to the customers and said “This is Not Fair!”   But the customers said, “It’s not our business – we just want our papers.”

                                 On the way home, one of you was so mad, you threw a brick through a customer’s window, and ever since then you have all been known as the Black Sheep.”

Then he sat down.  I thought “Wow!  We’re going to win.”  I had a witness ready to testify about the missing language in the contract.  It took the jury only an hour of deliberations to come back with an acquittal, making me & Benny heroes to all 224, their families, friends and P-9ers all over.

Almost better yet, while the jury was deliberating, the head of The Local Union (P-9) came up to me and Carla, my law partner in the case, and said the National Office of the Union had ordered the P-9ers mural on the side of the local Union Hall sand-blasted off because the National Meatpackers were no longer in support of the strike, and . . . and the sand-blasting was underway!  Well, we got the Judge to sign an injunction to stop the sand-blasting even while the jury was still out.

It was days like this, maintaining a “meter-isn’t-always-running” law office, that got me elected to the Legislature within 7 years and a month of getting mugged.

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Next stop Willmar

That summer of ’79 was the best ever, and one July evening I enjoyed my Golden Birthday on Kava’s porch surrounded by a dozen new friends.  Although only 6 months into my second go-around as a Minnesotan, I already had a best-imaginable circle of friends.   I lucked into all this of course with a little pluck on my part.

The luck was while still living in Philadelphia, but knowing I wanted to get back to Minnesota, I asked this guy I never knew before, Nick (who was from Minnesota, an activist in the co-op movement, and visiting a friend of a friend of mine in Philadelphia), who I should look up next time I got back to Minnesota – folks involved in left-wing politics.  He gave me three names and I braved to call all three once I’d settled back in Minnesota.  Wow, it’s almost like I owe my whole future fortunes to Nick.  Those three names were great connections, heavy into politics, and, along with Nick, are still some of my best friends 33 years later.

The pluck was volunteering for the St. Paul Tenants Union while I drove a cab and studied for the Bar Exam.  The Tenants Union had an entry in the “Cooperative Commonwealth Co-Rec Softball League.”

And now Nick also enjoys playing ball

We had no umpires, no firm rules – except to have fun (and an equal number of women players as men players) – and the 10 teams in the League were all from left-wing political groups – like the Lawyers Guild, Haymarket Press, May Day Bookstore, Minnesota CO-ACT, etc.  And the team you played always went for a beer with you afterwards.  Wow, was I lucky to meet such a huge great group so fast.

Tomorrow:  Baseball

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