Post Mortem

Death changes everything.

I was in London when I learned of Richard Nixon’s death in 1994. While the news stories all touched upon Watergate and Nixon’s resignation from office, their general tone was far from negative. Nixon was portrayed as something other than a disgraced former President. He was the man responsible for opening doors to relations with China, a brilliant politician who stumbled ethically and therefore compromised his place in history. Yet that place in history was acknowledged, despite Nixon’s latter years as pariah.

Whitney Houston spent the last decade of her life engulfed by the shadows of addiction. Her once incomparable voice succumbed to the abuses wrought by her lifestyle and she faded from the international spotlight. Headlines in supermarket tabloids would occasionally remind us of the demise of her once glorious career, as she fought battles with drugs and alcohol. Her death last week at age 48 was sad and shocking, yet not altogether surprising.

There has been much speculation and conjecture about Houston’s death. This was to be expected given the circumstances and delays in releasing the official cause. Televised eulogies this past weekend, however, generally focused on Houston’s life, and not the uncertainty surrounding her death. References were made to her troubled final years, but the emphasis was on Houston’s music and film career, her identifiable voice, her generous nature. Her troubles were pushed to the background while her friends, family and fans celebrated her life.

Gary Carter, the Hall-of-Fame catcher who also died last week of cancer at age 57, received similar accolades. Carter, the final piece of the puzzle in the Mets’ 1986 drive to the World Series title, was universally acclaimed by former baseball players as a great teammate, consummate family man and all-round great guy. This was consistent with the image fans held of Carter throughout his career. The unbridled enthusiasm he brought to the game was contagious, as was the smile that always appeared on his face. Yet teammates and opponents were not always enamored of Carter’s demeanor. I recall several players, contemporaries of Carter, expressing reservations about his sincerity, and hinting that his “winning” smile was simply a public relations tool. Such criticism vanished in the aftermath of Carter’s death.

None of the above should surprise. Death has a way of redefining or refocusing life. When Joe Paterno died in January, less than two months after his unceremonious dismissal as head coach of the Penn State football team, a friend remarked: “They will honor him in death the way they should have in life.” And honor him they did. He was praised as an educator and humanitarian, and remembered for his unwavering loyalty to the university. Had Penn State trustees evaluated his career in the same manner last November, he likely would not have been fired after 61 years with the Nittany Lions.

Perhaps we are driven by a desire to attain finality in death, a desire that can not be fully realized if we focus on lingering issues, such as those that plagued Paterno. Or perhaps it is fear for our own legacies (“What will they say when I’m gone?”) that cause us to shift our focus from the human shortcomings that inevitably accompany life once that life is gone. Whatever the reason, the change is palpable: we accuse in life, yet forgive in death.

Nixon, Houston, Carter and Paterno were no less human after death than they were in life. Death does not alter life, only our perception.

Reflections on Life Choices

He no longer stands erect. His rear legs give way, and he collapses into a prone position, which is how he spends most of his day. Gone are the days of running through our yard, barking at every nearby noise. He is now quiet and immobile.

Cheddar, the yellow lab who has lived with us for thirteen and a half years, has reached the age where he no longer looks forward to each coming day. His eyes and ears have diminished, and he can no longer control his bodily functions, causing us to move him at night from an interior bathroom to our partially covered patio, where he can move at will when nature requires.

Many have suggested to me that it is time. Cheddar’s life is clearly not what it once was, and it becomes increasingly difficult to care for him. Perhaps they are right - perhaps the humane act would be to hold him and comfort him while his vet eases him into a deep sleep. But it is difficult to make that decision for someone whom I have loved and who has loved me unconditionally for over a decade.

His vet tells me that the act is painless and humane. He is administered a sedative that quickly puts him under. Then he is given a drug that, within seconds, will cause his heart and brain to cease functioning. I can be with him through the end or not; the choice is mine. I can have his ashes or simply have the vet discard them; again I get to choose.

My principal concern has always been ensuring that I am making the correct decision for the right reason. I do not wish to end Cheddar’s life as a matter of personal convenience. If I am to make that choice, it will be because his “quality of life” is gone. He suffers only pain and prolonged inertia.

Perhaps we are there now. I look into his eyes occasionally for signs of the joy and curiosity that once were there. But they are gone. His eyes are sad and listless, the life within them superficial.

Someone recently suggested that dogs are lucky. When the life of a dog reaches the stage where pain and apathy pervade, we can bring an end to his discomfort by administering a couple of painless injections. Euthanasia is acceptable for animals, but not humans. A person in Cheddar’s condition would likely be hospitalized for months, suffering the indignity of total helplessness, with doctors striving to prolong what can barely be considered “life.”

I can bring Cheddar’s pain to an end, and perhaps I should. But whether out of love or selfishness, I am having trouble facing what is likely inevitable. How does one decide between life and death for a living being? Who gave me the right to play God?

Or Words To That Effect

The piece below was brought to my attention by my paralegal, Glorialee. I believe it perfectly captures the spirit of the season. Its author is unknown.

Happy holidays to all.

An Attorney’s ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

Whereas, on or about the night prior to Christmas, there did occur at a certain improved piece of real property (hereinafter “the House”) a general lack of stirring by all creatures therein, including, but not limited to, a mouse.

A variety of foot apparel, e.g., stocking, socks, etc., had been affixed by and around the chimney in said House in the hope and/or belief that St. Nick a/k/a/ St. Nicholas a/k/a/ Santa Claus (hereinafter “Claus”) would arrive sometime thereafter. The minor residents, i.e. the children, and issues of the aforementioned House, were located in their individual beds and were engaged in nocturnal hallucinations, i.e. dreams, wherein vision of confectionery treats, including, but not limited to, candies, nuts and/or sugar plums, did dance, cavort and otherwise appear in said dreams.

Whereupon the party of the first part (sometimes hereinafter referred to as “I”), being the joint-owner in fee simple of the House with the party of the second part (hereinafter “Mama”), and said Mama had retired for a sustained period of sleep. At such time, the parties were clad in various forms of headgear, e.g., kerchief and cap.

Suddenly, and without prior notice or warning, there did occur upon the unimproved real property adjacent and appurtenant to said House, i.e., the lawn, a certain disruption of unknown nature, cause and/or circumstance. The party of the first part did immediately rush to a window in the House to investigate the cause of such disturbance.

At that time, the party of the first part did observe, with some degree of wonder and/or disbelief, a miniature sleigh (hereinafter “the Vehicle”) being pulled and/or drawn very rapidly through the air by approximately eight (8) reindeer. The driver of the Vehicle appeared to be and in fact was, the previously referenced Claus. [See Exhibit A]

Said Claus was providing specific direction, instruction and guidance to the approximately eight (8) reindeer and specifically identified the animal co-conspirators by name: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen (hereinafter “the Deer”). (Upon information and belief, it is further asserted that an additional co- conspirator named “Rudolph” may have been involved.)

The party of the first part witnessed Claus, the Vehicle and the Deer intentionally and willfully trespass upon the roofs of several residences located adjacent to and in the vicinity of the House, and noted that the Vehicle was heavily laden with packages, toys and other items of unknown origin or nature. Suddenly, without prior invitation or permission, either express or implied, the Vehicle arrived at the House, and Claus entered said House via the chimney.

Said Claus was clad in a red fur suit, which was partially covered with residue from the chimney, and he carried a large sack containing a portion of the aforementioned packages, toys, and other unknown items. He was smoking what appeared to be tobacco in a small pipe in blatant violation of local ordinances and health regulations.

Claus did not speak, but immediately began to fill the stocking of the minor children, which hung adjacent to the chimney, with toys and other small gifts. (Said items did not, however, constitute “gifts” to said minors pursuant to the applicable provisions of the U.S. Tax Code.)

Upon completion of such task, Claus touched the side of his nose and flew, rose and/or ascended up the chimney of the House to the roof where the Vehicle and Deer waited and/or served as “lookouts.” Claus immediately departed for an unknown destination.

However, prior to the departure of the Vehicle, Deer and Claus from said House, the party of the first part did hear Claus state and/or exclaim: “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!” - or words to that effect.

The Spanish Countryside

The city of Valencia disappeared behind me, replaced by the vibrant green of the Spanish countryside. I sat in the car’s passenger seat, wondering whether I had made a mistake in agreeing to the trip.

The year was 1997. I represented the owner of a famous trademark for towels and bedding in litigation involving the manufacture of counterfeit goods in Spain. I had traveled to Valencia to take the deposition of the Spanish manufacturer, whose plant and warehouse were situated outside the city. The deposition would begin the next day at the Melia Hotel, where my opposing counsel and I were both staying. On this day, I had agreed to travel with the manufacturer and his attorney to the plant to review documents and observe the operation.

We drove for more than an hour, the manufacturer behind the wheel, my opposing counsel directly behind me. We would occasionally comment on the beauty of our surroundings: a sea of green extending in all directions, with occasional villas visible on the horizon. Despite the soothing panorama, I could not relax. I stole occasional glances at the defendant behind the wheel and half-seriously wondered whether I would mysteriously disappear and never make it to the next day’s deposition.

We eventually reached our destination, a large, box-shaped building in the middle of nowhere. The manufacturer insisted that the lawsuit was a mistake, that he did not engage in the manufacture of counterfeit merchandise. He was short for words, however, when an employee inadvertently opened a door into a room that contained counterfeits of not just my client’s products, but of many other famous trademarks, as well.

After several hours of documents and explanations, the manufacturer drove us to an outdoor restaurant at an old hotel situated near the base of a medieval castle wall. The location was breathtaking and the food delicious. The conversation soon turned to the case, with the manufacturer again insisting, despite what we had seen at his plant, that he did not manufacture counterfeits. I responded that, while I appreciated his hospitality, I intended to come down hard on him. It was all very pleasant, but with an underlying feeling of unease.

I spent the next two days grilling the manufacturer and confronting him with the evidence of his activities. At the conclusion of the deposition, we sat down at a café in a medieval section of Valencia and spent several hours negotiating a settlement.

Two days later, I boarded a plane for Madrid, where I would catch my connecting flight back to Miami. The trip had proven successful – I had been able to negotiate a settlement very favorable for my client. Yet what I remember most about the case, and what keeps it fresh in my mind fifteen years later, are not the legal issues, the eventual settlement or even the personalities involved (many were quite flamboyant). Rather, the images that most vividly remain are those of medieval castle walls, ancient countryside hotels, and a long car ride into the Spanish countryside with the possibility of no return.

Follow the Leader

So now it’s Newt’s turn.

This year’s Republican presidential primary has resembled the Kentucky Derby, the initial leg of the horse racing Triple Crown: one and a quarter miles of break-neck competition, with countless lead changes preceding a final desperate sprint to the finish. Rarely do competitors lead from start to finish. Those who emerge quickly usually fade as the finish line draws near.

Early Leaders

Michele Bachmann and Rick Santorum were viewed as potential early leaders, and they appeared to emerge well from the gate. Their perceived advantage proved illusory, however, and they quickly faded into the pack. The general feeling is that they have run their race and will not mount a credible challenge.

Rick Perry, the last candidate to the gate, then surged ahead. He was an early favorite and his campaign seemed to be gaining momentum as he began to separate from the pack. However, amidst criticism for softness on immigration issues, he stumbled badly at debates and quickly lost his lead.

Perry’s unexpected drop opened the door for a new candidate to emerge. Herman Cain, former chairman and CEO of Godfather’s Pizza, suddenly materialized atop polls. Cain used his business background to gain favor by preaching economic conservatism and proposing a 9-9-9 tax plan which some viewed as promising while others dismissed as impractical. While some were skeptical of his chances, others viewed him as the future of the Republican party and expected him to remain among the leaders for the balance of the race.

Then the mud began to fly.

Mud

There is one significant difference between horse race and presidential campaign. In horse racing, the leader avoids the constant bumps and collisions that inevitably occur when a group of strong, agile animals occupy limited space at high speeds. While trailing horses are subject to mud and dirt raised by the hooves of those before them, the leader can run unimpaired. There is no one to kick mud in its face.

Leading candidates in presidential races, on the other hand, attract mud. They are subject to scrutiny and become vulnerable targets because of their visibility. In presidential races it is the mud hurlers, and not the candidates, who are unimpaired. Thus, the candidate who emerges from the pack must be prepared to face challenges that his opponents may not.

Quite often, those challenges stem from the candidate’s past life. Offenses and indiscretions that may have otherwise remained forever buried suddenly emerge to sully the candidate’s reputation. When those offenses and indiscretions are of a sexual nature, they can destroy the candidate’s chances, as they did Gary Hart’s in 1988.

Soon after Cain’s surprising surge to the front, he was confronted with allegations of past sexual harassment of women and a decade-long extramarital affair. Cain has denied these allegations, essentially turning the issue into a he said/she said, she said, she said and she said verbal battle for the truth. Yesterday, Cain reportedly advised his staff that he was “reassessing” his campaign in light of this development. Unlike Bill Clinton, who overcame similar allegations when he was first elected president in 1992, Cain may abandon his pursuit of the presidency, essentially pulling up lame in the midst of the Presidential Derby.

Enter Newt

Cain’s recent drop in the polls has created a new perceived leader in the race: Newt Gingrich, the former GOP Speaker of the House. Despite obvious problems with a potential Gingrich presidency (President Newt? Really?), the new leader has an advantage that Cain lacked. Because of his visibility as Clinton’s principal congressional opponent during his presidency, Gingrich’s “dirty laundry,” including three marriages and a sanction by the House Ethics Committee for tax violations, has long been aired for all to see. Thus, it is unlikely that Gingrich’s campaign will be derailed by new allegations, such as those that plague Cain. The rehashing of “old news” is unlikely to impede Gingrich’s present momentum. What may impact his overall chances will be the assessment of his electability in the general election versus that of Mitt Romney, who has remained near the front of the pack during the entire race, but has been slowed by the perception that he is not far enough to the right to get his party’s full support.

So here we are. Halfway through the race, Gingrich appears to have a slight lead over Romney, with Cain and Perry falling back into the pack. Yet the race is far from over. By the time they reach the finish line the GOP candidates will be muddied, bruised and exhausted. It seems almost unfair that the winner will be then immediately thrust into a two-horse race with President Obama to determine the next leader of the free world.

Heroes and Villains

“You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.”

The line is from Christopher Nolan’s stylish 2008 film The Dark Knight. The accuracy of the statement was evidenced this week in the sporting world.

Joe Frazier died on Monday. The former world heavyweight champion was the embodiment of why boxing, despite its inherent brutality, was once considered a “gentleman’s sport.”

Frazier was not flashy. He was a hard-working, persistent pugilist, who attacked relentlessly with hooks to the head and body, tearing down defenses until opponents inevitably submitted. He is considered one of the greatest heavyweight champions despite successfully defending his title only four times.

In a sense, Frazier was on the wrong side of history. His name will forever be linked to that of Muhammad Ali because his career was largely defined by his three bouts with Ali, considered by boxing experts among the greatest fights ever staged. Frazier defeated Ali in the first of those bouts on March 8, 1971, a 15-round battle that saw Ali dropped to the canvas for the first time, suffering the first defeat of his professional career. Ali took their next two fights, including the brutal 1975 spectacle referred to as the “Thrilla in Manila” that saw Frazier, blinded by Ali’s repeated jabs, prevented by his corner from emerging for a fifteenth and final round.

The 1971 Frazier-Ali bout was deemed “The Fight of the Century,” one of the most anticipated boxing events ever. Ali, a conscientious objector to the Vietnam war, was criminally charged and convicted in 1967 for refusing induction into the U.S. armed forces (his conviction was eventually reversed by the U.S. Supreme Court on June 28, 1971). Ali’s boxing license was suspended and he did not fight for more than three years. When Ali’s license was restored in late 1970, the stage was set for his 1971 bout with Frazier, a battle of undefeated champions in the prime of their careers.

Frazier lacked Ali’s flash and charisma. While Ali loudly proclaimed himself “the greatest of all time,” Frazier went quietly about his business of training and preparing for his next fight. He never attained the world-wide renown and adulation of Ali – yet many believe that Ali would not be Ali without Frazier.

Frazier retired from boxing in 1981 at the age of 37. His death was mourned by many who, like myself, grew up in the 1970’s and remember him as a quiet, proud man whose name and career were synonymous with professionalism. He is remembered fondly, particularly in his native Philadelphia, where he is considered a hero and community icon.

Contrast Frazier with Joe Paterno, iconic coach of the Penn State University football team.

For over six decades (four of them as head coach), Paterno had been the king of college football, overseeing one of the most successful programs in the country. Paterno was deemed an educator who valued sportsmanship and integrity more than his teams’ abundant success on the gridiron. At the age of 84, he was a beloved and revered figure in the sport, and the universal belief was that he would continue coaching until he decided it was time to walk away. When that time came, all assumed that he would depart the game with his head held high. His reputation and legacy were beyond reproach.

All that changed in the span of days.

Late last week, a grand jury indicted Paterno’s long-time friend and defensive coordinator, Jerry Sandusky, charging him with the repeated and systematic sexual abuse of young boys on university grounds over several years. Further, two university officials, including the school’s athletic director, were also indicted based on the grand jury’s finding that they were aware of, yet ignored, Sandusky’s actions.

Paterno testified during the grand jury proceedings that he was made aware by a graduate assistant of a 2002 incident involving Sandusky and a 10-year old boy in the showers of the team’s football complex. The graduate assistant had witnessed the criminal act and notified Paterno, apparently believing that Paterno would contact the proper authorities. Paterno immediately brought the incident to the attention of the university’s athletic director, following school protocol that required notification of Paterno’s superiors.

However, neither Paterno nor anyone else at Penn State ever notified university police, which allowed Sandusky to continue his alleged pattern of abuse unabated for several additional years.

Paterno is not being targeted in the criminal investigation. Local authorities have stated that, by notifying his athletic director, he complied with his legal obligation under the circumstances.

Whether Paterno complied with his moral obligation, given the nature and severity of the act by Sandusky reported to him, has been openly debated for the past week. When the grand jury findings became public, pressure mounted on Paterno and the university’s president to resign or be stripped of their positions.

Earlier today, Paterno announced that he would retire at the end of this season, indicating that the effects of the child sex abuse scandal have been “overwhelming.” This evening, the university's Board of Trustees terminated Paterno's tenure as head coach, effective immediately.

And so ends the career of the man once deemed to embody all that was good about college football. He leaves no longer a hero, his legacy tainted by a scandal unlike any ever witnessed by the sport.

While Paterno is not a “villain” in the traditional sense, his public image has been forever altered. It is sad to think that he will be remembered not for the positives he brought to the sport over a span of 62 years, but for the sordid scandal that led to his departure.

Yet when one thinks of the abuse allegedly wrought upon young victims by Sandusky, and the realization that one call by Paterno to campus police might have prevented several of the assaults, it is difficult to remember Paterno in any other light.

Almost

“Almost” only matters in horseshoes and hand-grenades.

This phrase was often repeated by a local Hell’s Kitchen character whenever my childhood friends and I discussed near accomplishments.

He was right, of course. We like to tell our children that “trying” is what is important, that “it is not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.” Yet no one remembers the name of the person who nearly discovered penicillin, nor of the aviator who came close to crossing the Atlantic before Lindbergh’s famous flight.

Last week, the Texas Rangers twice came within a strike of winning their first World Series. Theirs was a fascinating tale. Their best pitcher fled to Philadelphia after the Rangers lost the 2010 World Series, believing that his chances of attaining a championship would be much improved with the Phillies. Their best player, Josh Hamilton, abused alcohol and drugs for years, nearly losing both career and life, before coming to grips with his addiction and evolving into one of the best players in the game. As a tribute to Hamilton’s struggles and perseverance, after the Rangers won the 2010 American League championship, players celebrated on the field with ginger ale, rather than the traditional champagne. The team’s manager, Ron Washington, disclosed prior to the 2010 season that he had tested positive for cocaine during the previous year, a mistake which he acknowledged and for which he apologized. Many speculated that Washington would be fired, but management and ownership supported him, and he rewarded that support by leading the Rangers to the first World Series appearance in franchise history.

A Rangers victory in 2011 would have yielded an intriguing story. Yet that story will never be told. The St. Louis Cardinals battled back from the brink of elimination and defeated the Rangers in seven classic games. The thrust of journalistic attention will therefore focus not on the Rangers, but on the Cardinals’ historic championship run. St. Louis almost missed the playoffs, overcoming a double digit games deficit in September to qualify for post-season play on the final day of the regular season. That is what will be remembered from the 2011 baseball season – not the Rangers’ successful defense of their American League title.

In the early 1990’s, the Buffalo Bills played in four consecutive Super Bowls, the only team in NFL history to attain that feat. Yet the Bills are noticeably absent from discussions of the game’s greatest teams. They are never mentioned with the Pittsburgh Steelers, Dallas Cowboys, New England Patriots or San Francisco 49ers because the Bills lost all four of their championship games. Likewise, their on-field leader, Hall-of-Fame quarterback Jim Kelly, never attained the glory or stature of Joe Montana, Terry Bradshaw or Tom Brady, all of whom won multiple NFL championships.

In 2007, the New England Patriots took an unblemished record into the Super Bowl, matching the 1972 Miami Dolphins’ accomplishment. But the Patriots were defeated by the New York Giants in Super Bowl XLII. Thus, when we speak of classic undefeated seasons, only the Dolphins are mentioned. The Patriots receive little recognition for their near accomplishment.

The city of St. Louis is celebrating. Championship parades are being staged for the Cardinals and their retiring manager, assured Hall-of-Famer Tony La Russa. Thousands are expected to attend.

It is uncertain whether Dallas will host any parades for its defeated two-time defending American League champions. Yet, even if consolation celebrations are held, it is difficult to imagine thousands of fans lining the parade route and showering the Rangers with chants of “We’re number two!”