Ghettoside

On By scottpetersenIn Gang violence, Ghettoside, Jill LeovyLeave a comment

“Death was bad enough. The death of a child, unbearable. But the murder of a child? There was nothing worse.”

“The hurt was too great for crying—tears belonged to a realm of earthly physics, but the murder of her son had transcended the coordinates of her world.”

Jill Leovy nailed it in her classic work Ghettoside:  A True Story of Murder in America.  This bestseller deals with the poisoned soul of gang violence which is endemic to inner city, poverty-stricken neighborhoods in Los Angeles.  She targets the horrific black-on-black murder rate that soars in these communities (witness Chicago with its thousands of victims of gang violence – the vast majority – black).  I don’t need to “review” the book.  Suffice to say I recommend you read it.  

To me, the big question is what do we do about this blight of violence?  One political party profits from poverty — because the poor are a voting block.  The other political party is accused of coming up with only tough love solutions.   And – like certain other issues today – no one is allowed to discuss the root causes of poverty lest they be accused of racism or bigotry.  So it goes on.  And gets worse.  Wouldn’t it be great if caring folks with pure hearts and sound minds could deal with problems in America unencumbered by politics, social agenda and political correctness?  Nahhh.   That’s way too much to ask. . . .        

So this Little Old Lady

On By scottpetersenIn Bastard file, So this little old ladyLeave a comment

So this little old lady is working in a hardware store. She is dusting and cleaning and fussing. In walks a large workman wearing bib overalls and high-top boots.
She smiles “Can I help you?”
“Lady, I need to buy a file.”
She puts her hands together “Oh my – we have all sorts of files.” She turns and points to the array of tools.  “We have these.  And these.  And these. . . . .”
“I really need a bastard file,” he says.
The old woman puts her hand to her mouth and runs to the manager. She glares sternly “that man used a bad word in front of me.  He said he wanted a ‘bastard’ file.”
The manager smiled and said “it’s not a bad word. There are wood files and metal files and a ‘bastard’ file is actually a type of file for metalworking (this is true). Why not go back and sell him the file.”
So she did.

A few days later another big workman came in. He said “Ma’am, I need a file.”
She smiled. “Would you like this bastard here?”
“No” he thought. “I’ll take that SOB* over there. . . . ”                             

*This term is subject to personal preference. 

Killing Lincoln

On By scottpetersenIn Bill O'Reilly, Martin DugardLeave a comment

Bill O’Reilly and Martin Dugard have made a killing on their series of “Killing” books: Killing Patton; Killing Reagan; Killing Jesus; Killing Lincoln; and Killing Kennedy.  I have read three of the five and am now on my fourth.  All I can say is “wow.”  Each of these books has been on the New York Times bestseller list.  And each has received favorable review.   

For me, Killing Lincoln was the most fascinating (65 weeks on the NY Times bestseller list; more than a million in print).  The reader is literally perched on a tree limb in some of the battle scenes.  He is a fly on the wall in the White House during meetings of consequence.  And she is a silent eyewitness to the tragic events that unfold at Ford’s Theater on that fateful Good Friday evening in 1865.  

As mentioned, I’m halfway through my fourth in the “series.”  And I’ve pre-ordered O’Reilly’s upcoming Killing the Rising Sun (also with Martin Dugard) which is due for release on September 13th.  If you’re looking for some armchair adventure – or a gift for a friend – you can’t go wrong with any of these offerings.  But my first pick – so far – is Killing Lincoln.       

Just Between Us Girls

On By scottpetersenIn Just between us girls1 Comment

In 1973, three men entered a small family-owned health food store in Evanston.   They pulled guns on the father, mother and 14 year old son. One man began pistol-whipping the mother viciously. Shattering her skull in several places. Another turned on the boy and brutally beat him. The father for some reason was left unharmed. The three took money, some product and wallets and walked out the front. They got into a car driven by a fourth man and drove away.  The mother and son were unconscious – the mother near death.

Two men were caught.  Isaiah S. pleaded guilty to armed robbery and attempted murder and was sentenced to 10 to 30 years in prison.  Darvie T. wanted to go to trial.  The case was assigned to Judge Saul Epton where I was tasked as an Assistant States Attorney.  We didn’t have much in the way of evidence against Darvie, so my partner and I decided to go talk to Isaiah – the one who plead guilty.  Early one Sunday morning, we drove with two Sheriff’s police to Stateville.  And we had a chat with Isaiah.

Long story short, Isaiah volunteered to testify against Darvie in exchange for a “reconsideration” of sentence.  No obligation.  We checked Isaiah out of Stateville and started the drive back to Chicago.  Isaiah was in the back of the squadrol – cuffed.  As we drove back from Stateville, Isaiah asked if he could “say something.”  “Sure Isaiah” we responded.   “Just between us girls, it wasn’t Darvie who was there — it was his brother.  But I’ll say anything you want.”  We talked and Isaiah volunteered the whole story.  Darvie was not one of the four.  But Isaiah was willing to testify against him.  On the chance of a more lenient sentence.  What to do?  There was no option.  

That Sunday afternoon, we brought Isaiah to Chicago Police HQ at 11th & State where he was on a polygraph for nearly five hours.  His story passed with flying colors.  Next day, when Darvie’s case was called, I just said “nolle” (nolle prosequi).  And the case was dismissed.  The right thing was done – for the right reason.  As was always the case.  

Oh – and Isaiah?  Yeah – we’d told him if he testified a judge might reconsider his sentence.  He had told the truth.  So we kept our word.  And his sentence dropped by a year at each end.  The right thing was done – for the right reason.  As was always the case. . . . .         

Alfred E. Neuman for President

On By scottpetersenIn Alfred E. Neuman, Mad Magazine1 Comment

As a kid, I was allowed to read “Walt Disney Comics & Stories” (the Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck offerings).  Bugs Bunny and Woody Woodpecker comics were okay too.  But Mad Magazine was strictly verboten.   I think my parents were afraid I was going to emulate – and turn out like – Alfred E. Neuman — the poster boy for Mad.   It made me all the more desirous of sneaking copies home and hiding them under my bed in the small – locked – toolbox where I hid enough Black Cat firecrackers, M-80’s and Cherry Bombs to take out Tehran.  I found Mad Magazine (launched in 1952) hysterical!  Still do.  The satire is classic.   

Alfred E. Neuman made his Mad Magazine debut in 1956.  His famous motto?  “What me worry?”  That same year, there was a write in campaign to have Alfred E. Neuman elected President.  His campaign slogan was “You could do worse. . . . and always have.”  With our current Presidential choices, I may just vote for Alfred E. Neuman.  He’s definitely smarter.   And doesn’t have the baggage.  Either that or I will vote for my dog Daisy.  Daisy is loyal, has integrity, doesn’t bite and is house trained.  It’s really a toss up.  Seriously. . . .

How About It?

On By scottpetersenIn Clean Water, Just Turn it Off2 Comments

Earlier this week, I went to the local fitness center. Nothing heroic. A little Stairmaster and some weights. In the locker room, there’s a guy shaving. He’s got the water running full tilt. He turns around and talks.  Minutes drag by.  Water runs.  Quarts.  Gallons.  He never rinses his razor except at the end.  So clean, safe water just pours out.  Going into the sewer.   Every time I see him – and a few others – it’s the same thing.  Good water.  Wasted.   

Clean, safe drinking water is abundant for those reading this post.  But friends, clean, safe drinking water is becoming increasingly scarce in our world.  Look at Africa.  Flint,  Michigan.  Drought in California.

I have posted before on my idea — JUST TURN IT OFF (see July 23, 2011, and May 1, 2014).   It’s a registered trademark.  I own the domain name.  And I’ve circulated cards bearing this admonition.  But I’d like to do more.  And for you to do more too.  And there’s no heavy lifting.

Water is precious.  Rather than leaving it run – JUST TURN IT OFF.  And turn it on as needed.  Save a gallon for the future.

In the shower, turn on the water then JUST TURN IT OFF and soap down.  Then turn it on to rinse and enjoy the hot water.  Save gallons for your children.  And their children. 

Electricity burns fuel.  Fuel generation causes pollution.  When not using a light in your home – JUST TURN IT OFF – and make a difference.     

This is like recycling.  Saving trees.  Reducing carbon emissions.  Saving a gallon of water a day is not much.  But – just think if everyone did it. . . . .      

Groundhog Day

On By scottpetersenIn Evil, ParoleLeave a comment

In my post of March 20, 2014, I discussed testifying in parole hearings on murder cases that I tried when I was a States Attorney (prosecutor) at 26th & California.  Last Wednesday was “Groundhog Day.”   I was asked to testify – again – in the 1976 case referenced in that post.  What’s left of the family was there.  Very emotional. 

Ernie S. stabbed Susan H. to death in the fifty hundred block of South Ellis.  She was stabbed in a kitchen.  Ernie S. ran out.  Susan sat down at the kitchen table.  Bleeding out.  Her screams brought two friends who were upstairs.  Beat cops arrived and scooped her up and raced her in the squadrol to the hospital.   No time for an ambulance.  But Susan was DOA.   Ernie S. got 100 to 300 years after a 2-1/2 week jury trial.  The  U.S. moratorium on the death penalty (for which he would have been eligible) did not end until June 1977.  Interestingly, Ernie had done the same thing the week before to Jasmin G – a nursing student (Jasmin lived).  Some years later, he escaped from a prison van and ran into Joliet West High School and yanked a 14 year girl – Kristine D. – out of a classroom.  He did stuff to her in a stairwell.  He was recaptured.  But now Ernie wants out.  

Because the sentence was “indeterminate,” every two or three years we go back and testify that Ernie S. should never see the light of day again.  Some folks will say “ohhh – just let him go.  He’s a victim.”  Just wait.  Until it’s their child.  Grandchild.

Postscript:  On March 24, 2016, the Parole Board voted 12-0 to deny parole.  They agreed on a 3 year “set.”  Ernie will not be up for parole again until 2019.        

 

The Road to Abilene

On By scottpetersenIn The Abilene Paradox, The Road to AbileneLeave a comment

It was a hot, dry, sun-drenched afternoon in Coleman, Texas.  A family is playing dominoes on a steamy porch.  The father-in-law looks up and suggests that they get in the car and take a drive to Abilene which is 53 miles away.  One by one, the family members nod acquiescence.  They pile into the car.  The drive is hot.  Dusty.  And long.  The family arrives in Abilene.  They go to a diner where the food is as bad as the drive.  They get back in the car and take the same hot, dusty, long drive back to Coleman.  They arrive home exhausted.   

One by one, the family members admit that they never really wanted to go to Abilene.  They agreed to go because they thought the others wanted to go.  Thus – everyone decided to do something — that no one wanted to do . . . . . 

The “Abilene Paradox” was first introduced by Jerry B. Harvey in a 1974 article “The Abilene Paradox:  The Management of Agreement.”   The article suggests that individuals are normally averse to acting contrary to the inclinations of a group.  Social conformity and social influence — “peer pressure” — drive agreement.  The reservations one might have – with a decision or direction – is subsumed by the feeling that their concerns must be “out of step” with that of the group.  This leads to reluctant silence.  Grudging acquiescence.  And frequently poor decisions.  We see this in families.  Businesses.  Organizations.  And politics.

My Hero

On By scottpetersenIn Cell phone courtesy, Cell phone jammersLeave a comment

In my post of October 9, 2014 (“I Need to Invent Something“), I discussed the public’s irritation at people who yabber loudly on their cell phones while sitting on the train.  Some conversations are so loud they can be heard in Dubuque.  That’s why each train now has “quiet cars” (cell phones and conversation are verboten).  In my post, I suggested someone should invent a device that would deliver an ear-piercing screech to these inconsiderate boors. 

Well America, we have a new hero.  Dennis Nicholl – a 63 year old CPA from Chicago – was armed with a “black box” while riding on a CTA train.  Some around him were talking loudly on their cell phones — heedless of their neighbors’ auditory space.  Mr. Nicholl flipped the switch and – POOF – all the cell phones around him went dead. 

Instead of cueing Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” or giving the man a standing “O” –  an undercover police officer arrested Mr. Nicholl.  And charged him with a felony — a violation of an FCC regulation.  I was pleased to read that the charges have now been reduced to a misdemeanor.  But still Mr. Nicholl remains under the shroud of this case.  My only disappointment with Mr. Nicholl is that his black box did not cause cell phones to emit an ear-piercing screech. . . . .

He’s a Devil. . . .

On By scottpetersenIn Magic, Rossio Square, Torn and restored paperLeave a comment

When I went to Portugal years ago, I often had dinner in a little cafe off Rossio Square in Lisbon. One evening I was sitting in the restaurant with my driver George.

George looked at me — “Scott – do some magic tricks.”   So I did a few effects (see December 19, 2011, if you want to learn a good one).  With that, George called over some of the waiters. “You gotta see this stuff.” A gaggle of waiters began to congregate by our booth. I asked for a deck of cards – they arrived – and I began my routine.  Nothing fancy but some good stuff.

It was when I poured water into my fist and made it disappear – and then reappear – that one waiter looked seriously at his colleagues. “Ele e um diabo” [“he’s a devil“].   And I suddenly realized that my visage had quite possibly morphed from curiosity to danger to the human race and all that is holy.  George coughed and looked at me.  My face got warm.  I thought I better do something or I may have trouble leaving the restaurant.  Sooooooo, I did what any other red-blooded American magician would do.  I looked up at the waiter who had branded me a diabo – and said “here – I’m gonna show you how I did that.”  I did.  I showed the waiters how I did the tricks — without making them take the mandatory Magician’s Oath.  The waiters laughed nervously.  Seemed relieved.  And walked away.  George gave me one of those eyes in the air looks that said I won’t ask you to do that again.  And I lived to tell the tale. . . . .