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An Autobiography
by
John R. Berger

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THE BOOK: This is the nostalgic and humorous autobiography of the author, John R. Berger.
It traces his remembrance of his eighty-five years beginning with his early childhood years in
Cincinnati in the thirties, his family, high school, college, law school, military service during the
Korean War, marriage, law practice, and being a judge and college professor.

Join him on his journey through life as he seeks its meaning.





THE AUTHOR: The author is a graduate of Hillsdale College and Harvard Law School. He is
a retired judge of the Steuben Circuit Court and Professor Emeritus of Law at Tri-State
University. He is the author of The Johnson County Murders, the tale of a triple murder trial
over which he presided as a young judge. He lives on a lake in northeast Indiana and is currently
doing legal research and writing to assist in continuing legal education.


Copyright 2014 by John R. Berger. jrb11129@yahoo.com

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form without
permission of the author.

Published 2014 by Lake James Press
20 Lane 200H Lake James
Angola IN 46703
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To Susan Elizabeth and John Christopher,
remember me.








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THE BERGER FAMILY


Mary Elizabeth Metz--------John Berger (1837-1894)
!
!
John (1866-1881)---Anna---Amanda---Otilla---Teresa---Agatha---Joseph---
and George Berger (1871-1954) Married Rose Petronella Trefzger (1875-1956)
!
!
!
Marcia (1901-1985)---George Berger, Jr. (1903-1906)---Alfred (1904-1994)---Adele (1911-2007)---Carl
(1912-1998)---Richard (1913-1992)---
and John Norbert Berger (1898-1985) Married Margaret Grace Lester (1900-1984)
!
! William Lemley (1898-1953) Married Florace McCool (1900-1970)
! !
! !
Margaret (Peggy) Berger (1925-1994)---George Berger(1923-1990) and !
John (Jack) Berger (1929--) Married Susanna Ellen Lemley (1932-2005)---William Lemley
!
!
!
Susan Elizabeth Berger (1966)---John Christopher Berger (1969) married Valorie Berger





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EDITORS NOTE

As I begin my eighty-sixth year, I often wonder, as most my age do, where have the years
gone? It has been all too short. But remembrance makes me realize what a wonderful life it has
been-how I have been blessed with family and friends.
So be with me on my lifes travels as I sit on my lake cottage porch, word processor at hand,
turn on an album CD of Eddy Howards songs ( Careless, My Best to You, To Each His Own)
recorded in the 40s at Chicagos north side Aragon Room, and, like being hypnotized, go back,
and back and back.

John R. Berger
July 1, 2014
Lake James
Angola Indiana





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PROLOGUE

I opened my eyes immediately. I was completely under the surface of the water and standing
on the bottom. All I could see were bubbles rising up from my face and a hazy pier post. I was
four years old and could not swim. I had wandered out on the pier at Clarks Lake while my
family was eating a late dinner at our cottage and had fallen into the deep water. I was in the
hands of God.
I was given the strength to reach up, clutch the edge of the pier and hoist myself out of the
water. I had neither breathed in nor swallowed any water. Soaking wet, I appeared before my
startled family at the dinner table. My mother took me to a couch, covered me with a beach
towel and put her arms around me. I started to cry but soon made myself stop. I thought-boys
dont cry.
I had been saved from drowning, but I wonder-for what purpose? Have I repaid the gift of
life given to me that August evening?






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CHAPTER ONE
THE EARLY YEARS 1929-1935

Have you ever tried to remember your early thoughts and experiences? I have and it is most
difficult. The remembered early ones are usually just fragments but are part of the mosaic of my
life.
My Family
I was born at 8:29 a.m. on January 11, 1929, in Christ Hospital in Cincinnati, Ohio. I was
christened John Robert Berger but was called Jack to avoid confusion with my father. We
(mom, dad, older brother George and older sister Peggy) lived in a small house on Morrison
Avenue in the suburb of Clifton in Cincinnati overlooking the Ohio River.
Dad, John Norbert Berger, was born in 1898 in Cincinnati, Ohio, was of Catholic German
ancestry and part of a large loving family. He was a graduate of Xavier University. For three
generations, my dad, his father and grandfather had been in the wholesale cigar leaf tobacco
business under the name of the John Berger & Son Company (my grandfather was the Son).
My great grandfather, John Berger, had come to Cincinnati from Alsace Lorraine in the 1850s.
His son George, my grandfather, married the daughter of his fathers friend who had settled in
Peoria, Illinois, and established the well known Trefzgers Bakery at the site of what is now the
Pere Marquette Hotel in Downtown Peoria.
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Dad had three brothers and two sisters. He was the eldest. All except Marcia, who became
an artist, were married and each had several children. Sister Adele (my baptismal god mother)
married a young medical doctor and went west to Texas to establish a ranch and small dynasty.
One brother, Alfred, became a well known scientist and university professor. Dad, with two of
his brothers, Carl and Richard, followed their father in the cigar leaf tobacco business. The
brothers expanded the business to include the buying and warehousing of Pennsylvania cigar
tobacco near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, and Ohio cigar tobacco near Germantown, Ohio; growing
and warehousing of Connecticut broadleaf cigar tobacco (a thimble full of tobacco seed would
plant one acre) at a three hundred acre plantation near South Windsor, Connecticut (replete with
housing for the Jamaican seasonal workers); and two cigar factories, one in Frankfort, Indiana,
and the other in Wheeling, West Virginia. The original John Berger & Son Company is now The
National Cigar Company. The cigar factory in Frankfort, Indiana, was and is the home of such
memorable cigar brands as Lincoln Highway (From Coast to Coast), The Hoosier Poet (with
picture of James Whitcomb Riley on the box lid), The Bankable (You can Bank on Bankable), El
Verso, and R.G. Dunn. Also made at the Frankfort factory is the La Fendrich cigar. This brand,
now owned by National, was originally owned by John H. Fendrich who had a large cigar
factory in Evansville, Indiana, in the early 1900s. The factory was the largest cigar factory in
the world and the largest employer of women. The cigars were all hand rolled and produced at
the rate of 350,000 a day. John H. Fendrichs only child, daughter Mary, married Terre Haute
multimillionaire Tony Hulman of Clabber Girl and Indianapolis Motor Speedway fame.
I had two mothers. One was white and related to me by birth. The other was black and
related to me by love. My thoughts of my white mother are pleasant so she must have done a
good job as a mother. It is my black mother, however, who was always there to play with me
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and keep me clean and well fed. I remember playing blocks with her, and eating a large bowl of
her wonderful vegetable potlikker broth in our small kitchen breakfast nook. I must have
realized her skin color, but it had no significance to me. She was my other mother. Her name
was Lillian, or La Le Law to me.
Following is a photo of La Le Law holding me, and with my sister, Peggy, and my brother,
George.

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Mom, Margaret Lester Berger, was born in 1900 in Cincinnati. She was proud of her English
ancestry-her mother, Grace Lester, was a descendant of Roger Williams of Rhode Island fame,
and her father, Charles E. Lester, was a descendant of the Duke of Leicester. Mom attended a
Catholic college in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, but did not graduate. She became engaged to dad
while at school and, according to the good sisters, spent too much time shining and admiring her
large diamond engagement ring rather than pursuing her studies.
Mom had a twinkle in her eye and always enjoyed a good joke. One of her favorites went
something like this. The young priest was nervously giving his first sermon under the watchful
eye of the elder pastor. After the sermon the young priest went to his mentor for his comments.
The elder priest complimented the young priest for his wonderful sermon and stated that he had
made only three small mistakes. First, Daniel did not get into the lions den. Secondly, Jonah
did not swallow the wale. Thirdly, there is not going to be a peter pulling contest at St. Taffys
next Wednesday.
Mom had two brothers and a sister. Her younger brother, Lester Lester, was a Rhodes
scholar and studied philosophy at Oxford University. He later had a near nervous breakdown
and spent the rest of his life doing landscaping. Moms sister married Stanley Bateman who
started the first mens store in downtown Cincinnati. His trademark was to greet every
prospective customer near the front door. I wonder if Sam Walton purloined his Wal-Mart
greeter idea from Uncle Stan. There is a difference though-uncle Stan always wore a dark suit
and tie with a white carnation in his lapel.
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Moms other brother, Charles E. Lester, Jr. was a graduate of the University of Virginia Law
School and a very successful criminal defense attorney in Newport, Kentucky, which was just
across the Ohio river from Cincinnati. (See Endnote 1)
My memory of my mothers father, Charles E. Lester, is limited to visits to his office and
lunch at the Union Central Life Insurance building in downtown Cincinnati. He was an
executive with the company and had a large and impressive office on the fifteenth floor. He
seemed rather old to me (he was about 58) but kind and gentle. The treasure trove at his office
consisted of a box of used pencils, maybe fifteen or twenty, and about three inches long.
Grandfather always saved them for me and it was the highlight of the visits to receive them as a
gift. Why I was so excited about the pencils and what I ever did with them is still a mystery to
me.
My grandmother, Grace Lester, would visit our house occasionally but I have no clear
recollection of her during these early years.
My recollection of my grandfather, George Berger, and grandmother, Petronella Berger, is all
based upon Christmas. The whole family would gather at their Victorian house on Hosea
Avenue each year to celebrate. The Christmas tree seemed huge to me. Along the base was a
lighted village with a train running through. The ornaments were made in Germany. My
favorites were the ones shaped like musical horns which you could blow into and make noise. I
still have several of the ornaments from their tree which I hang on my tree each Christmas.
There were many presents, abundant libations for the adults, and punch for the children, all under
the watchful eyes of my loving grandparents. The house was very large with a wonderful front
porch. Upon entering the house, the parlor, with electric player grand piano, was located to the
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left, to the right was the living room and Christmas tree, and in the center was a hallway ending
with a grandfather clock and a large staircase with a landing leading to the upper floor. In the
middle of the house to the right was the dining room with a table seating twelve and
accompanying sideboard. In the back to the right was an early version of a family room-library,
in the center there was a breakfast room with bay window overlooking the formal garden with
sunfish pools, and the kitchen and pantry to the left. The second floor consisted of four
bedrooms and two bathrooms. There was a third floor that had a back bedroom and bath for the
servants, and a large sunny front room used as a studio for my aunt Marcia who was a water
color artist. All of the original gas light fixtures had been converted to electricity. In the
basement there was a room with a bar, game table, pool table and cuckoo clock. The bird was
missing from the clock as he (or she) had been shot with a rifle by my Uncle Rick one New
Years eve. The basement also had a large indoor pool which was the first in Cincinnati.
I do not know when or how mom and dad met. I do remember mom telling me a charming
story. As she related to me, she and a girl friend were taking a walk in the girlfriends
neighborhood one summer evening. Mom stopped in front of a large Victorian house at 218
Hosea Avenue. She had an overpowering awareness of the future. She told her friend,
Someday, I am going to marry a man who lives in this house. She was sixteen. Five years
later she did indeed marry a man who lived in that house, my father.
Mom related to me a story that showed dads devotion to her. Once when mom was returning
on the train to Cincinnati from Tuscaloosa, dad met her at the train carrying a large pistol. He
mistakenly thought that a gentleman friend was accompanying mom on the train. Dad obviously
did not cotton to gentlemen friends for mom.
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This vignette does not surprise me. Dad even as a youth appeared at times to be a bit
impetuous. Dad had told me that when he was young, he and his buddies liked to play war.
They had fashioned long wood swords and rifles that fired huge rubber bands. They planned to
attack a rival group on the next street. When the appointed time for attack arrived, one member
of dads army did not show up. The absent soldier was immediately court marshaled and
sentenced to hanging for desertion. The absent soldier was promptly found playing in his back
yard. A rope was found and the hanging commenced. Dad told me that they were not actually
going to hang him, just hoist him up a little. The horrified mother of the hangee, peering out her
back kitchen window, thought that her son was about to meet his maker and promptly halted the
military exercises.
This and That
Not far from our house was the Clifton community business center located at the intersection
of Clifton Avenue and Ludlow. It had a White Castle with five cent hamburgers; a 5 & 10 cent
store which was great for shoplifting (not by me) by slipping items into the pockets of boys
knickers with a hole in the bottom of the pockets so that the items would fall into the knickers
bottoms; a barber shop (25 cent haircuts); a one pump filling station with a one car service bay
attached to the office which had a coke machine and a glass front counter containing the cash
register, cigars, cigarettes, candy, gum and a potato chips holder; a small Kroger grocery store
(Kroger started in Cincinnati in 1883); a drug store with ice cream counter and three tables,
Graeters (founded in Cincinnati in 1870) ice cream of course; several small offices; and the
Esquire Theatre. The Esquire movie theater was founded by my grandfather in 1911 as a 500
seat movie theater. It closed in 1983 and became a Wendys, but was resurrected as an art
theater in 1990 with three screens.
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I saw my first movie at the age of four in the summer of 1933 at the Esquire Theatre. The
movie was a short film animated cartoon, Three Little Pigs. It was Walt Disneys first and
featured Fiddler Pig (who played the fiddle), Fifer Pig (who played the fife), Practical Pig (who
played the piano), and of course, the Big Bad Wolf. I had only seen picture books before and
was enthralled by the movie. Also, I had learned a good lesson-when I built my own house
someday, I vowed it would be made of bricks.
All of the houses in our neighborhood were small but well kept. We had a large back yard
with terraces, walkways, floral garden beds, many shrubs and trees. It was a great yard for
hiding Easter eggs, especially since I could watch the eggs being hidden by my dad from my
second story bedroom window. I always found more eggs than my sister and brother!
One large room in our house was dedicated completely to play things (except dolls which
were banished to my sisters bedroom). Among other toys, we had a Lionel train set, a
Wyandotte tin airplane, block sets, tootsie toy automobiles, pickup sticks, erector set, and a pre-
Lego set with wood plug together parts that could be made into animals or humans. It was called
Krazy Ikes. It was from this play set that I was given the nickname Ike. I do not know why
it was given to me-because I played with the game so much, or because I looked sort of like one
of the goofy figures? I hope not the latter.
My favorite toy was a penny bank in the form of a fierce lion. It was painted gold with a red
mouth, made of cast iron and about five inches long. By removing a screw the halves came apart
and the pennies could be removed. It was not until many years later that I discovered that my
wife as a child also had a favorite penny bank-a darling kitty made by Hubley of Lancaster,
Pennsylvania.
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The very first song that I can remember was In the Valley of the Moon written by Joe Burke
in 1933. At the slightest prompting, at age four, I would sing the song for all my parents
admiring guests. The song was later revived by western singer Hank Thompson and as I recall
goes something like this:
Down the lane we strolled neath the roses- in the valley of the moon
And I lost my love neath the roses- in the valley of the moon
We kissed and said goodbye-she cried and so did I
Now do you wonder why I am lonely
But well meet again by the roses-in the valley of the moon.

These were the days of riddles, knock knocks, tongue twisters, rhymes, and jokes. Remember
What has four wheels and flies? or What is black and white and red all over? or What is
full of holes but still holds water? The answers should be printed upside down at the bottom of
the page but here goes: A garbage truck-a newspaper-a sponge. Can you recall Knock knock,
whos there? Police. Police who? Police open the door. or Knock knock, Whos there?
Lettuce. Lettuce who? Lettuce in its cold outside.
How about tongue twisters such as If Peter Piper picked a peck of picked peppers, how many
pickles did Peter Piper pick?
As to rhymes, Jack and Jill went up the hill and Jill came down with a five dollar bill. I did
not have the slightest idea as to the implications of this rhyme until reaching puberty. At the
time I just knew that, for some reason, I should not recite this to my parents. Another rhyme that
I learned from my buddies and could not recite to my parents was based upon the fact that in
those days all public toilets had coin operated locks on the stall doors. You had to pay to get in.
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It went like this:
Here I sit, broken hearted.
Paid a nickel to shit, and only farted.

What is a double petunia? is a question my parents had me answer often to relatives and
friends. When asked the question before a rapt audience I would recite:
A double petunia is a flower, like a begonia.
A begonia is meat, like a sausage.
A sausage-and-battery is a crime.
Monkeys crime trees.
Trees a crowd.
Roosters crowd and make a noise.
The noise is on your face between the eyes.
Eyes are the opposite of nays.
A horse nays and has a colt.
You catch a colt and wake up in the morning with double petunia.
(Applause: Author unknown for obvious reasons)

Ethnic jokes were permitted in my youth. A rather raunchy one that I remember was: Two
polish guys saved their money for about a year in order to buy an automobile. They had saved a
total of $75.00. They went to a used car lot and asked a salesman to show them cars in that price
range. The salesman said that he did not have any cars that cheap but he had taken in a camel
that morning as trade and they could have the camel for $75.00. They agreed, paid the money,
jumped on the camel and happily rode down the street. When stopped at a red light, a car drove
up next to them and the driver said to his passenger Look at the two assholes on that camel.
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The curious poles promptly jumped off the camel, went to the rear of the camel, pulled his tail up
and looked under the camels tail.
Cincinnati had many hills and luckily one hilly straight street about a quarter of a mile long (it
seemed to me) ended right in front of our house. It was great for snow sledding as the streets
were never plowed. I would mount my trusty Flexible Flyer sled (belly down) at the top of the
street and race all comers including the girls whom I managed to crash into and push into the
curb.
Among the early recollections that I have, two stand out. One was about my mother and the
other, my dad.
I remember one afternoon that my mother, all alone in her bedroom, was crying. Her door
was closed but I could clearly hear her. I felt very sad. Why was she crying? This was the only
time I ever saw or heard my mother crying except for when her father died. I wonder why I still
remember. Perhaps it is because, even then, I could not bear to see a loved one unhappy.
One evening, when the family was all assembled in the living room (no family rooms then)
in front of the Crosley radio to hear Fibber McGee and Molly, my dad decided to entertain us by
dancing around in the room. In the process of dancing, he raised one leg far in the air and as it
came down, it crashed into my brothers knee. It must have hurt my brother very much. Dad felt
terrible. He came to my brother and put his arms around him. I noticed tears on the face of my
father. He also, as I, could not bear to see a loved one unhappy.
Following is an early photo of my sister, Peggy, and my brother, George, accompanied by
Taffy.
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Clarks Lake
Summers were spent at a cottage at Clarks Lake, which was just south of Jackson, Michigan.
Summers in Cincinnati were hot and humid and my parents thought that it would be more
healthful for the children to be in Michigan. Dad would spend weekends at the lake and be in
Cincinnati during the week. The rest of the family would come to the lake right after school was
out the first of June and stay until school started the day after Labor Day. The trip up to the lake
north on US Highway 127, in our 1928 Franklin automobile, took about six hours not including a
stop for lunch and apple pie a la mode at Balyeats Coffee Shop in Van Wert, Ohio.
I loved the lake and the small cottage. The lake had two basins and three dance halls-Larry
Millers Dance Hall (formerly Pleasant View Hotel and Pavilion), Ocean Beach (which was built
completely over the lake), and Eagle Point (later converted into a roller skating rink). We had a
long wooden pier and a wooden fishing boat with no motor. The cottage had a kitchen (with
back porch ice box), dining room, and lakefront living room. Upstairs was a bathroom, a
bedroom, and a front sleeping porch for the children. Outback was a two hole toilet.
Other than general happy thoughts about my six years at Clarks Lake (including fishing
almost every day-see my following photo with Eagle Point dance hall in the distance), only a few
specific memories remain.
I fondly recall warm summer evenings with a soft breeze and poplar leaves rustling, just
before I would fall asleep on the screened sleeping porch, hearing the music from the orchestra at
Larry Millers Dance Hall flowing over the quiet water. Do you remember two of my favorite
songs that the orchestra often played, Indian Love Call and In a Shanty in Old Shanty Town?
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I developed rheumatic fever when I was about five and for one whole summer I had to be in
leg braces. I do not remember being unhappy with the braces. I spent most of my time sitting on
the front lawn of the cottage in a lounge chair with people fussing over me. A teenage very
pretty girl who lived about five cottages away would come to see me almost every day and
before she would leave, she would kiss me on the cheek. I was thrilled. I can still see her
walking away, looking back, smiling, and waving goodbye while I tried to hide my blushing
face. I think my appreciation of girls started that summer long ago.
I always had an inquisitive mind but the answer sometimes comes many years later. For
example, a married couple with two teenage children lived next door to us at the lake. The
husband was away all week at work and only came to the lake on weekends. Every late Saturday
afternoon when he would arrive at the lake I would see the happy couple, hand in hand,
disappearing into a nearby cornfield. They would return about a half hour later, still smiling but
with no corn. I was mystified and asked my dad about this. His response was that he was busy
and would talk to me about it later. He never did and I lost interest. As I reflect, it was like
seeing an early version of a Viagra commercial.
My last remembrance of Clarks Lake was when we were about to leave in late August of
1935. My parents had decided to rent a cottage at Lake James near Angola, Indiana, for the next
summer and we would not be returning to Clarks Lake and our lake friends. One person that I
would especially miss was a girl about my age that lived in a nearby cottage. When I last saw
her to bid farewell, as we parted, she smiled and said to me Good riddance to bad rubbish.
The wonderful and carefree early years were over. New challenges awaited. What would the
future hold?
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Jack, the fisherman, at Clarks Lake, age 6


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CHAPTER TWO
Growing Up 1935-1943

Many exciting things were about to happen. I would move to a new home in Cincinnati, start
grade school, and spend summers at a new lake in Indiana.
Our New Home
In the summer of 1935, when I was six, we moved to a house on the corner of Brookline
Avenue and Glenmary in Clifton which was about a mile from our first house. It was an entirely
different type of neighborhood with two acre estates, stately homes and gas street lights. The
previous owner had earned a small fortune delivering by train fresh fruit from Florida to the
Midwest. Unfortunately, an unexpected severe freeze hit a large trainload of his fruit in
Alabama and all was lost. As a result, he became bankrupt and his home had to be sold. Dad
was able to buy our home for $26,000.00, a fraction of the original construction cost.
Our new home was very large and looked like an English manor. It was on a hill and had a
large winding driveway. The grounds had formal gardens, rock gardens with flowing streams,
and an enclosed courtyard with high walls lined with flowering rhododendron bushes. In the
courtyard there were flower beds surrounding a pool with center fountain presided over by a
statue of a small naked boy holding a fish. The water came out of the mouth of the fish. We
named the boy Butch.
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The house had a large foyer with a two landing stairway leading to an upper balcony. The
foyer led to a formal dining room on the right (with hidden button under moms dining room
chair for summoning the serving maid); a breakfast room straight ahead; and to the left a walnut
paneled living room with fireplace and grand piano. To the left of the breakfast room was the
loggia which, together with the breakfast room, overlooked the courtyard. The recessed fountain
in the loggia and the loggia floor were of glazed Rookwood made especially by the Rookwood
Pottery Company of Cincinnati. Adjoining the dining room were the butlers pantry, kitchen and
storage rooms. There was an attached three car garage and garden house. The dining room
opened onto an all glass greenhouse. The only time I can remember being in the living room
was at Christmas time because the tree was set up there, and when practicing playing the piano.
I had taken piano lessons for about a year before they gave up on me. I did learn to play the
introduction to Ludwig van Beethovens Fleur Elise which I still can play to the amazement of
friends (together with the top or bottom of chopsticks).
The second floor of the house had the large stairway balcony leading to the master wing with
bedroom and fireplace, bathroom, ladies dressing room and closets; to my bedroom and my
sisters which had a shared bathroom in between; and to a back wing over the garage which had
a bedroom and bath for the maids, and my brothers bedroom. The basement had a laundry room,
a utility room, and a recreation room with ping pong table, game table, and long bar.
My mother was assisted from time to time in running the house and managing the children by
live-in upstairs and downstairs maids Mary and Helen (Irish lassies of nineteen and twenty-one);
Marie the colored cook, Elwood the colored butler/gardener; and a part time colored laundress
named Elizabeth.
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Grade School
Not only had we moved into a new neighborhood with a new house, but in September I was
about to embark upon nineteen years of schooling. It was 1935 and I was six years old.
I attended St. Ursula Academy for my first year of school. The only remembrance I have of
first grade is standing on the stage for our recital with Sister Marie conducting and proud parents
in attendance. At the appropriate time we all bowed down to avoid hitting our heads on the
bridge as we sang the chorus of Fifteen Miles on the Erie Canal:
Low bridge, evrybody down,
Low bridge cause were com-in to a town,
And youll always know your neighbor,
Youll always know your pal,
If youve ever navigated on the Erie Canal.

I was the only boy in the class. I wonder if this had any deep psychological effect on my later
life and opinion of women.
At my urgent request I transferred for the rest of grade school to Annunciation Catholic
School, a converted church building with four classrooms near my home. Two grades were in
each room presided over by a stern and loving Franciscan Sister. Father Kelly was the pastor of
the adjoining church and each Monday morning quizzed the faithful children on their knowledge
of the Catechism. We had spent many hours each week memorizing the answers to the questions
contained therein. I still remember the first question and answer: Question: Who made you?
Correct answer: God made me. Many of the questions and answers were a mystery to me.
What is an immaculate conception? How could a ghost be holy?
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Inspired by Father Kelly, St. Patricks day was always a big event. We practiced singing Irish
songs for weeks and on St. Patricks Day gave our performance for Father Kelly and a large
group with Irish ancestry or sympathy. Among the many songs that we sang, one stands out, The
Wearing of the Green. It was written in the late 1800s and inspired by Americas successful
revolution against British rule. It was a poem and then a song written in protest against the
oppression of the Irish people suffered under British rule in the 1700s and 1800s. The color
green was the symbol of Irish independence and forbidden to be worn. I can still hear the
ringing chorus:
O Paddy dear, and did you hear the news thats going round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground;
St. Patricks Day no more well keep, his colours cant be seen,
For theres a bloody law agin the wearing of the green.
I met with Napper Tandy and he took me by the hand,
He Said, Hows poor old Ireland, and how does she stand?
Shes the most distressful counterie that ever yet was seen,
And theyre hanging men and women for the wearing of the green.
As I chimed in with my tenor voice singing The Wearing of the Green I had no concept of the
years of Irish oppression by the British and I certainly did not know who Napper Tandy was.
Napper Tandy was in fact a shopkeeper in Dublin who, having been identified by the British as a
freedom fighter, had to flee to France.
I was a budding artist in the sixth grade and as part of my duties as art editor on the
mimeographed monthly school paper I was assigned by Sister Margaret to make a drawing of the
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statue of Jesus located beside the alter. Upon proudly submitting the completed drawing I was
informed by a disturbed Sister Margaret that I had sketched Saint Joseph! I am still somewhat
confused by some of the concepts of my faith.
Our playground was the gravel church parking lot with no fence around it. We could run out
into the street and get hit by a car if we wanted to. Our play equipment consisted of a teeter-
totter and swing set. During and after school the boys would play tackle football. As a result,
often I would come home with small pieces of gravel imbedded under the skin on the palm of my
hands and with various other cuts and bruises. Today the school would be sued for not providing
a safe environment (manicured grass, soft wood chips under the play equipment and a fence) for
recess. Also I am sure the good nuns would be sued for violating the privacy rights of the boys
because the nuns frequently came into the boys toilet (complete with a long trough urinal) to
stop fights.
I remember only one joke from grade school: You are an American if you are in your living
room. Q. What are you when you are in your bathroom? A. European.
Awakenings
Even though Annunciation school was near our home, it served a larger area that my mother
said included The rougher elements. It was due to these rougher elements that I was first
tested in the third grade as to my knowledge of sex. When asked by several seventh graders If
your Uncle Jack was on the roof, would you help your Uncle Jack off? I replied Probably, but
I dont have an Uncle Jack. The boys snickered and walked away. That evening after dinner I
told my dad what the boys had asked me and why they thought my reply was funny. Dad
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hesitated, smiled a little, and said that it was kind of an adult joke and he would explain it to me
later. Later turned out to be about four years when I was in the seventh grade.
In the seventh grade I was introduced by my parents to the adult world in two sessions.
The first session was with my older brother and mother. I still wonder why my father was not
present. The session was about masturbation. Although I do not remember the exact
conversation, I do remember that the phrase to play with myself was used (which I did not
really understand as I believe that the session was a little bit premature for me); that it was not a
sin; and that, contrary to what I may have heard, I would not go blind if I indulged in whatever it
was. I thanked them and looked forward to adulthood. Bottom line: I have great eyesight today.
In the second session, my parents gave me a copy of Sane Sex Life and Sane Safe Living. I
was told to only read the third chapter and not look at any of the graphic diagrams or
photographs in other chapters! However, I peeked! This was the extent of my formal sex
education. After reading the book, I showed my maturity by asking a third grader Do you know
what a fishermans dream is? After he answered No, I replied Two nights on Veronica
Lake. The third grader asked where Veronica Lake was located. Feeling superior, I laughed
and walked away.

I was fascinated by the budding breasts of some of the seventh and eighth grade girls. I guess
it was the normal progression of hormones in a thirteen year old. One outlet for this allure took
the shape of again expressing my artistic ability by drawing nudes in charcoal from the
photographs of German models in Coronet Magazine (This was the early Coronet before it
became family oriented).

Below is one of my charcoal drawings.
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Another outlet was wrestling with a well endowed thirteen year old Jewish girl (I was told
that Jewish girls mature early and its true). We would always end up on the ground with one of
my hands gently touching her ample breasts. She must have known what I was doing but she
never complained.
This and That
Having manners and proper etiquette were very important to my parents. They said it was
simply thinking about others, being polite. It was what made you a gentleman. I was taught,
among other things, to say please and thank you, to promptly send thank-you letters, to keep my
elbows off the table, to wait for others to be served before eating, to help seat the ladies at the
table, to not sit down at the table until all ladies were seated, how to hold my fork and knife,
what to do with my napkin, to not talk with food in my mouth, to take my hat off when entering
a building, to stand up when a lady enters the room, to open the car door for a lady companion,
to open a building door for a lady and to let her enter first, and when walking with a lady on the
sidewalk, to walk on the street side. I have tried to follow their advice and pass it along to my
children. When much later I taught law classes in the business school at Tri-State University, I
once gave a little lecture to my business students on the importance of manners and etiquette in
their future business life. Later that afternoon one of the female students came to my office and
said that she and several other female students were very offended by my comments concerning
manners. She said that it was demeaning to them to be treated differently than men (the standing
up, opening doors, etc.), that it amounted to sex discrimination, and that they could take care of
themselves. Not wanting to offend, I did not give my manners lecture again.

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I was very active in trying to supplement my meager allowance (twenty-five cents per week).
My commercial endeavors, except for one, were disasters. Among my failures was a vegetable
garden which was destroyed by various insects including the fat and gooey green tomato bug (I
gleefully fried them in Maries large iron skillet); an attempt to sell eight kittens which I carted
all around the neighborhood in my red wagon (how could I lose as I got them for free);
producing and selling chicken eggs. The egg business began by my building a large wood
chicken coop out of leaf tobacco crates obtained from dads office. The next step was to get on
the electric street car at the Clifton center and go to downtown Cincinnati to purchase the baby
chicks. I bought two dozen chicks which were placed in a box with holes in the side for
transportation to my home. They were guaranteed to not be male chicks. I wondered how you
could tell. On the way home on the streetcar, the box lay on my lap, the baby chicks chirped
away, and the passengers gave me strange looks. Anyway, as you could guess, the chicks all
turned out to be roosters which had the habit of crowing at five each morning. At a
neighborhood meeting it was unanimously voted that young entrepreneur John (Ike) should
dispose immediately of his chickens. To try and salvage part of my investment, I sent my
chickens to chicken heaven, boiled them, plucked off the feathers, and gutted them. I tried to sell
them to mom with no success. I then turned to my grandmother Berger who felt sorry for me
and purchased the whole lot. I found out much later that she had promptly pitched them.
My one successful business endeavor was my magazine route. The Curtis Publishing
Company early on developed a scheme to increase circulation by using child labor. Curtis was
the very successful publisher, among others, of The Ladies Home Journal, The Saturday
Evening Post, Jack and Jill, and various comic books with mighty heroes accompanied by large
breasted women vanquishing vicious villains. My part in the scheme was to canvas the
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neighborhood and solicit new subscribers to one or more of their magazines. I would then
deliver the magazines and collect the cover price of five cents. I would keep one cent as my fee
and remit the balance monthly. As a bonus, I could earn brownies and greenies (five brownies
equaled five greenies, or was it the other way around) which could be used to get various
enticing products from the Curtis catalogue. As an example, five hundred greenies would
purchase a Red Ryder BB gun. It was an early version of the S&H stamp concept. Since talking
people into spending their hard earned money on magazines during the great depression was
tough work, I developed a brilliant business plan worthy of the Harvard Business School. I
purchased established magazine routes from other neighborhood boys at five cents a customer. I
would then have the previous owners of the routes continue to deliver and collect for the
magazines, and I would pay them one half of one cent per customer. With all of the money I
took in plus all of my brownies and greenies, I was the envy of the neighborhood.
An additional source of revenue was derived by me from working Saturday mornings at my
fathers wholesale leaf tobacco sales office on Fourth Street in downtown Cincinnati. The office
flooded to about three feet deep every four years in the spring by the rising Ohio River. I guess
that this was why the rent was so cheap. I felt like a real adult taking the streetcar downtown to
work like everyone else. I would work four hours and then be treated to lunch by my father at a
German delicatessen. He would pay me fifty cents an hour which I think was more than his
clerk was paid. My job was janitorial and included cleaning the two toilets and five usually full
spittoons (defined in my Thesaurus as a container into which tobacco chewers spit) strategically
placed around the office. My uncle Fred was a scientist and he had invented some kind of
miracle detergent like soap called Emeraldite. His brothers let him have some space in the back
of the office for free to store large barrels of his Emeraldite. I remember two things about
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Emeraldite. First, the stuff was spilled all over the place and I was told that I did not have to
sweep it up. Second, if I collected a large amount of spit in my mouth, upon spitting it out, the
gray Emeraldite powder turned a bright green.

I did have one investment fiasco. My brother George collected foreign postage stamps. In
response to my magazine route success my brother decided to go into the business of selling
stamps on approval. He advertised his stamps for sale in a magazine and stated that a
prospective purchaser could order a group of stamps on approval, select and pay for the ones that
the purchaser wanted to buy, and return the purchase price and not purchased stamps to my
brother. George formed a pretend corporation and issued actual stock certificates to investors. I
was the only investor to the tune of five dollars. As you would expect, no person who had
received stamps on approval ever purchased or returned any. The business became bankrupt and
my stock was worthless. The next Christmas I wrapped the stock certificate in a beautiful box
with many ribbons, and gave it to my brother as his Christmas present. I learned a good lesson
and I have never invested in any stock since then.
The Spanish civil war was fought between 1936 and 1939. It was between the Nationalists,
first created by a coup dtat of Spanish generals and supported by Fascist Italy and Nazi
Germany, attempting to overthrow the Republicans who were in power. Strangely, the
Republicans were supported by the communist Soviet Union. Over 2,000 Americans fought on
the side of the Republicans. The Nationalists won and an authoritarian state was created led by
General Francisco Franco. The war was brutal and more than three hundred thousand people
died as a result. New tank warfare tactics and the terror bombing of cities from the air were
predominate features of this war. But I did not know any of this. All I knew was that there was
a brutal war going on and that 2 1/2 inch by 4 inch cardboard picture cards (with an enclosed flat
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piece of gum) portraying the battles and atrocities of the war could be purchased. The pictures
depicted many horrible battles with bloody arms and legs being cut off, helpless soldiers being
bayoneted, tanks crushing the soldiers, and mothers and children being blown to bits by dirty
Nationalist airplanes. The pictures on the cards fascinated me and I tried to obtain the really
gruesome ones by purchase or trade. The real fun, however, was that the cards could be used in
a competitive game. The competitors (two to four) would stand in line, hold a card between the
thumb and forefinger, and flip the cards like a whirligig to the ground in front of them. Each
would take a turn and if you partially covered any card on the ground with the one you had just
flipped, you won any covered cards. If you were good at flipping, you could amass a large
quantity of cards, and to have the most cards was the envy of your buddies.
In the old days if you wanted to do something that could harm or (heavens forbid) kill you,
you could go right ahead. Big brother could care less. One of my favorite rainy day activities
involved what today would be classified as dangerous, hazardous to health and not permitted. It
was the making of lead soldiers. Kits could be purchased which included the caldron, large
pieces of pure lead (the type they now say poisons you), and WW II vintage soldier molds. The
lead would be first melted in the boiling cauldron and then poured into the mold. The finished
soldiers were about three inches tall and depicted the soldiers in various rifle firing positions.
The next step was to position an equal number of the soldiers in two opposing sand fortresses
previously made in our large elevated sandbox (next to the chicken coop). Then the real fun
began. A buddy and I would each take a position near a fort and alternately fire at the opposing
soldiers with our BB guns (mine was a Red Ryder obtained from brownies and greenies). The
one with the last soldier(s) standing (or kneeling) would be the winner of the battle. I never
burned myself with the scalding molten lead, never got lead poisoning, and never shot an eye out
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of a buddy. Guns, battles and war were fun in those days. Later of course I would change my
mind when my brother George, as a WW II medic, left for North Africa, Sicily and northern
Italy, and when I became a private during the Korean Conflict.

I really liked to build rubber band wind up model airplanes-all shapes and sizes, mono and bi-
plane. In those days you would start from scratch with a kit containing the structural plans, a lot
of balsa wood, and glue. Also you had to have a razor blade to cut the wood to the correct sizes,
pins and a large wooden board. The board would be first covered by the plans and then the balsa
wood would be glued and attached to the board by pins over the pattern. The pieces would then
be assembled. After the propeller and rubber band were attached, thin paper would be attached
to the assembled skeleton of the airplane. Flight would be from a second floor window
preferably not into the 5000 volt power lines next to the house.

Another fun thing to do was to collect and play marbles. The players would first draw a circle
in the dirt or gravel. The first player would toss a marble into the circle (a crummy one) and the
other players would take turns knocking other player marbles out of the circle with their own
marble. If you knocked a marble out, you won it. The shooting position was to knuckle down
on the ground or on top of your hand for a higher angle. How you held the marble between your
fingers when shooting was critical. The marbles had crazy names (Aggies, Indians, Tigers)
depending on what they looked like or what they were made of. Sadly, television, computers
and other distractions have wiped out lead soldiers, my Sopwith Camel WW I airplane, the game
of marbles and most other important things in childhood.

Evenings at home were spent listening to the radio. The family would gather in front of the
radio and listen to such memorable programs as The Shadow with Lamont Cranston and Margo
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(Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows.); I Love a Mystery
(brought to you by the owners of Olga Coal Company with Jack, Doc and Reggie); and Cecil B.
DeMilles Lux Radio Theater from the little theater just off Times Square staring Les Tremayne
and Barbara Luddy (Good Evening Mr. and Mrs. First Nighter). Just for fun go to
www.freeotrshows.com/otr/l/Lux_Radio_Theater.html to listen to all of the Lux Radio Theater
original radio programs.

During the day, we would often listen to one of the original radio soap operas, My Gal
Sunday. It first appeared in 1929 and ran until 1959. It was the story of an orphan girl named
Sunday from the little town of Silver Creek, Colorado, who in young womanhood married
Englands richest, most handsome lord, Lord Henry Brinthrop. Each episode began with the
question-Can this girl from a small mining town in the west find happiness as the wife of a
wealthy and titled Englishman?

An annual summer day trip with my dad was the highlight of the year. We would leave early
to catch the eight oclock departure of the Island Queen paddlewheel boat heading for Coney
Island, the downriver amusement park. The original Island Queen had its maiden voyage in
1896 and sadly the fourth and last Island Queen burned to the waterline in 1947. On the trip we
would have our pictures taken for a quarter in the little picture booth. I still have one of dad
smiling with his jaunty fedora (like Indiana Jones). I would not ride any of the three roller
coasters. It would be years later with my children that I screwed up enough courage to ride them
at Cedar Point at Sandusky, Ohio. My favorite ride at Coney Island was the Tunnel of Love ride.
Dad and I would embark in a little square boat and be slowly carried along by the current into the
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dark tunnel with many twists and turns and very scary people and animals jumping out at you.
Toward the end of the ride your boat would go clankety clank up a steep and very high (it
seemed to me) incline until the top was reached. Then down you would come about fifty miles
an hour on a river of water and splash mightily into the pool below. It was all designed to
completely soak everyone to the delight of the riders. Dad and I would play almost every game
along the midway and even ride the merry-go-round. Sadly, as the sun set, we would return to
the Island Queen for the return trip. It was always a wonderful day-just dad and I.

This is a photo of my dad taken in the photo booth of the steamer Island Queen on our way to
Coney Island amusement park.



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On December 7, 1941, WW II started. I was twelve years old and in the seventh grade. War
would no longer be something we just played. My brother was eighteen and in his first year of
college at Ohio University. He would be drafted into the Army after he completed his freshman
year. I will never forget the family being gathered in front of our radio on December 8th and
listening to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt address the Congress of the United States.
Yesterday, December 7, 1941-a day that will live in infamy-the United States was suddenly and
deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

Lake James

Also in the summer of 1935 our family started spending our summers at Lake James in the
northeast part of Indiana near the small city of Angola in Steuben County. (See Endnote 2)
Steuben County has over 101 lakes carved out by receding glaciers over ten thousand years ago.
Lake James is part of a chain of lakes including Little Otter, Big Otter, Snow, James, and
Jimmerson. Lake James is the second largest lake in Indiana and has 1229 acres with a sandy
bottom and a maximum depth of 98 feet. The entire chain has 1878 acres. James has three
basins, the largest being the first basin where our cottage was located. Access to Lake James in
the early 1900s was primarily by boat or a few narrow winding mostly dead-end gravel roads.
To arrive by boat, according to the 1914 Report of the Indiana Fisheries and Game Commission
Lake James can be reached by the Jackson Branch of the Lake Shore Railroad. You must get off
at Angola, the county seat, and catch the electric railway operated by the Angola Light and
Power Company to Paltytown on the southern shores of the first basin of Lake James.
Paltytown has a few cottages, a supply store, a dance pavilion, and the three story Lake James
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Hotel. There are two piers owned by separate boat lines that provide launches for excursions or
passage to the cottages on the lake.

When my family first arrived in 1935, no longer did you take a launch to your cottage. The
roads had been much improved and Paltytown was gone. There were many family cottages on
the shore, two small grocery stores accessible by water, Meyers Boat Livery, lakeside Pokagon
State Park and beautiful Potawatomi Inn, and last but not least, Bledsoe Beach (hotel, coffee
shop and grocery, post office, arcade and dance pavilion with high arched roof and big bands
playing at 10 cents a dance). During the day it was always fun to stop off for a swim at
Bledsoes beach with the large pier and high diving platform, and perhaps have a bottle of
delicious non carbonated Pokagon Orange (made in Angola by Charlie Rodebaughs Angola
Bottling Works-orange, grapefruit, grape and crme soda). For a small fee you could take a
scenic flight with a seaplane taking off from Fikes Point in the first basin. Mail was delivered
from the Bledsoe post office by boat to each cottage lake pier mail box.

Our new cottage was a typical lake cottage built in the early 1900s. The cottage was named
Holiday Lodge and was on Spring Point. Quite a few cottages were named and some had
bizarre names like Quit Your Bitchin. On the first floor the cottage had a large living room, a
side room used as a game room with an old wind up Victrola phonograph His Masters Voice,
dining room, kitchen, back bedroom and small lake front porch. The second floor had three
bedrooms and a bathroom. I will never ever forget the bathroom. One day when I was in a big
hurry to use the bathroom I hastily opened the door and behold-facing me and sitting backward
in the bathtub was a stark naked Inger. Inger Sather was our Swedish maid who to say the least,
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even though she was old (38), had a great body, and all of it was on display. She was the first
woman that I had ever seen naked (except for Coronet Magazine). I approved.

In the game room on the first floor, there was a large collection of 1920s records, old thick
bakelite 78s, which were fun to play. Are you old enough to remember or have you heard Im
Yours (Ask the sky above and ask the earth below, Why Im so in love and why I love you so?
Couldnt tell you though I tried dear, just why dear-Im yours); and Dew-Dew-Dewey Day
(When the fire is warm and cozy, and the old folks are away, what do we do, what do we do, on
a dew-dew-dewey day?). The original 1927 Columbia recording of Dew-Dew-Dewey Day by
Charles Kaley and his orchestra can be heard on:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zANBdk5PyBI.html.
Our cottage marina consisted of a boat house, a thirty foot long L shaped wood pier, a
wooden row boat with a 2 horsepower Johnson outboard motor (the kind with the spark lever
attached by wires to the two spark plugs on either side, which controlled the speed), a small
wood experimental kayak made by Rieke that was almost impossible to get into and once you
did, it invariably turned over, and a twelve foot wood Thompson sailboat that took about an hour
to bail after each rain. The sailboat was made of mahogany, was very heavy, slow and had the
habit of capsizing. My brother and sister would sail her in the weekly races and always came in
last. Even a sailing canoe would beat them. Our neighbor had a 2 horsepower Elto Pal outboard
that was started by cranking the flywheel knob. If it started, the motor would either run forward
or backward. You never knew which way it would run so you always held tight upon
embarkation. Another neighbor had a wood Thompson outboard runabout with a 26 horsepower
Evinrude motor. This was the most powerful outboard on Lake James. The real fun boats were
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the wooden inboard Chris-Craft and Gar Wood runabout speedboats. They were mahogany
hulled and beautiful. They did not go very fast by todays standards and some would not even
plane. There were only eight on the lake. I never got to ride in one. To compensate, I rigged
our powerful row boat up with ropes, pulleys and a steering wheel in front, and often took the
helm to set forth to find the pleasures (girls) of Bledsoes Beach.

I loved to fish. Right out in front of our cottage, along the weed and drop off line, you could
always catch a bunch of fat sunfish and bluegills with a cane pole and juicy night crawlers. Night
crawlers for bait were easily found at night on the surface of the cottage lawns with a flashlight.
For some reason the night crawlers would come to the surface at night and seem to pair off.
Upon inquiry, dad told me they were kissing. Crappies could be caught with a fly rod, with a
bobber and minnows as bait, along the edges of several of the shallow spots in the middle of the
lake. Large and smallmouth bass and northern pike could be caught by trolling with rod and
Pflueger reel near the weed and drop off line (you cannot troll today because of the many
speedboats and jet skis). My favorite bass baits were Plunker, Krazy Krawler and Jitterbug. The
surefire pike bait was the Daredevle. What wonderful names.
Also in the spring, right after the ice left the lakes, the rare Cisco fish (a 8-10 inch herring
type of whitefish) could be netted when they came from the deep cold waters (80-98 feet deep)
to the shallows to spawn in the third basin of James and Snow Lake. The word would go out
that the Cisco are running and it would be a race to the hot spots. In the 60s the deep water
became oxygen depleted due to pollution and the Cisco are long gone.
Lake James also had an abundance of crayfish, dog fish with their very long dorsal fin,
salamanders (a four-legged with toes amphibian fish with gills, ten inches long with human like
skin, which evolved 340 million years ago), and Japanese (with red stripes), rubber back (with
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long pointy noses) and gray turtles. My sister Peggy loved to go turtle hunting and had an
aquarium with several baby turtles which I had to feed.
I would usually fish by myself with one exception. My best friend at the lake named Pete
Bowman had a dad called Oliver. Pete and Oliver lived in a cottage on the tip of nearby Spring
Point. Oliver loved his simple cottage and everything about the lake. Oliver seemed to take me
under his wing and taught me how to seine for bait minnows at the creek below the mill dam at
Greenfield Mills, catch large catfish at night at the old bridge between Snow and Otter lakes, and
spear four foot long gar at night from an old rowboat that Oliver had rigged with a large gas light
mounted on the bow. The gar were buried and the catfish fried and eaten after being skinned and
the center bone taken out. The trick was to skin the catfish without being speared by the long
sharp side fins. Oliver taught me to (1) grab the fish by the tail, avoid the thrashing fins, and
pound the head of the thrashing fish with a large hammer many times until the fish gave up, (2)
drive a spike through the head of the catfish into a stout board, (3) slice the skin of the fish below
the head and down the side with a very sharp knife and (4) grab the skin near the head with a pair
of pliers and pull toward the tail. I wonder if the SPCA approved of this method of food
preparation. My dear friend Oliver at age seventy-two had a heart attack in the front yard of his
cottage and died immediately. He was patiently showing an eight year old neighbor boy how to
bait a fishing hook with a minnow.
One summer afternoon when Pete, my brother and I were swimming at his cottage dock at the
end of Spring Point, a Chris Craft runabout went by towing a sixteen year old boy on a surf
board. In those days dual water skis, single slalom ski, and tubing were beyond the horizon. The
surf board was made of wood, four feet long, two and a half feet wide and fastened to the boat by
a long rope. The surf board rider would stand on the board and hang on with the aid of a rope
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tied to the front left and right of the board. As the boat passed in front of the pier we saw the surf
board hit some big wave and the boy fell off, apparently hitting his head on the board when he
fell. He was not wearing any life vest as life vests then were only used when a person was
abandoning an ocean liner. He disappeared below the water but was soon retrieved by another
boy from the Chris Craft. He was brought to Petes dock and was not moving. My brother
attempted to give mouth to mouth resuscitation but it was too late-he had drowned. This was the
first time I had seen death in real life, not the play sort of thing. I remember two dogs barking
furiously and fighting on the sand beach near the dock while the poor boy lay lifeless stretched
out on the dock. Life goes on I guess.
My mercantile genes flared up again when Oliver, who worked at General Electric in Fort
Wayne and who was a master machinist, brought to the lake one summer a large quantity of
round thin copper disks the size of a quarter which were a waste byproduct of his work. Pete and
I came up with a money making scheme to use the disks. We would make a slot machine out of
cardboard and other miscellaneous parts. We would sell five disks for a quarter and the buyer
would drop the copper disks into the slot machine, hopefully hit the jackpot, and exchange the
winnings for real money. The slot machine was designed so that a disk inserted in the top slot
would fall into a cup suspended on a pivoted bar like a steam shovel bucket. The bar and cup
were held vertical by a rubber band. When the cup had a sufficient number of disks in it, the
weight would overcome the tension of the rubber band and the coins would fall into a chute. The
chute branched into two other chutes-one so that the coins would fall into the inside of the slot
machine as the house share, and the other led to the payoff slot. It seemed like a failsafe way to
make money as everyone loved to gamble. Our casino license was revoked by my mom after
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many complaints from neighborhood parents that allowances were ending up in the hands of the
local Mafia (Pete and Ike).
Making money was always on my mind so I came up with another brilliant idea. There was
an abundance of fresh water clams of all sizes in the lake. Everyone smoked cigarettes. I
thought that I could combine these facts into a money making machine. I would manufacture
and sell cigarette ash trays. I collected various clams, cleaned them (I tried to sell the insides as
a lake delicacy but could find no takers), glued them together to make a variety of ash tray
shapes, and shellacked the finished product. The deluxe version of an ash tray consisted of a
large opened clam (both sides) face down with an open clam face up glued to the bottom clam.
Glued to the center of the top open clam there would be a closed baby clam. The deluxe version
was priced at twenty-five cents. I sold in all four ash trays. From my early experience with cats,
vegetables and chickens, I should have known better. Luckily my investment was only $1.50 for
glue and shellac. I should have used the sales technique developed later in TV commercials:
Mrs. Smith, you can buy this unique clam shell ashtray today for only fifty cents. But wait-if
you buy one within the next five minutes I will give you another one absolutely free. But theres
more-as an extra bonus, you will get a free jar of delicious Lake James clam innards.
About ten years ago, zebra mussels appeared for the first time in Lake James. They are small
invasive sharp edged striped mussels that first appeared in the Great Lakes in 1988. One female
zebra mussel can produce up to a million eggs per year of which up to fifty thousand will survive
to adulthood. They originated in the Black Sea of Russia and were carried in the ballast water of
ocean-going ships throughout the world. From the great Lakes they have spread to many lakes
and rivers in the northern part of the United States. They were carried by attaching themselves to
the hulls and live wells of sport fishing boats. As a result of this invasion, the sandy shores of
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Lake James now contain many thousands of these sharp edged zebra mussels. The zebra mussels
preyed on the fresh water mussels that were indigenous to Lake James and sadly there are now
none left in the lake-no more ashtrays.

There was plenty to do on sunny days and in the evening we played Kick the Can (you did not
want to be it). But what to do on rainy days? The kids would gather at Petes cottage, set up
the card table, play cards, board games and Battleship (sink an opponents battleships, cruisers
and submarines). The usual card games were Go Fish, Hearts and my favorite, Michigan
Rummy, also called Tripoli. I especially liked Michigan Rummy because you could win chips
on pay cards and if you went out of cards first, you won the center jackpot. Chips were one cent
apiece. The favorite board game was of course Monopoly. The paper money went from one
dollar to the enormous amount of five hundred dollars. The houses were green and the hotels
red. The rent went from two dollars at slum landlord Baltic and Mediterranean to luxurious
Boardwalk at fifty dollars. If you stayed at a hotel on Boardwalk, the rent was two thousand
dollars! Who can forget the Chance cards Go Directly to Jail. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect
$200. or Your Building and Loan Matures. Collect $50. Community cards were a mixed
bag. You may be happy with You Won Second Prize in a Beauty Contest Collect $10 or be hit
with Pay Hospital Bill $100.00 (the card showed a proud father holding twins being presented
the bill by a pretty nurse for five days in the hospital). Do you remember what the seven silver
tokens were? Hint: Battleship, top hat, ladys button shoe, thimble with For a Good Girl on it,
old fashioned iron, roadster, and civil war cannon (or a purse). My original 1936 Monopoly set
was the basic edition which sold for $2.00. There were five editions in all. The most expensive
one, the De Luxe Edition, sold for $25.00 and came in a faux wood box with slide out money
tray, a thick fiberboard shiny playing board, larger houses and hotels made of Ivoroid, and large
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tokens with gold finish. The advertising flyer stated that the De Luxe Edition was A set that
will do credit to the finest living room or the most exclusive club.
Pokagon State Park had Potawatomi Inn, acres of woods, a pond, two beautiful bathing
beaches, tennis courts, elk and buffalo in a wire enclosure, the only winter toboggan slide in
Indiana, and a saddle barn with seven rather old horses. My Pokagon State Park equestrian days
were short lived. I always was afraid of horses and they knew it. I am convinced that they could
smell fear. My sister dared me to ride with her at Pokagon and I never could resist a dare. So off
we went, she on Warrior and I on Dolly, reputed to be the most docile of horses. The horses
always took the same wooded trail through the park. It was impossible to make them change
direction, increase or decrease speed. All they wanted to do was return to the barn. I had an
indication that Dolly did not like me when she kept trying to scrape me off against adjoining
trees and, about half way around, she stopped and rolled over on her back. Luckily I escaped
unharmed and walked back to the barn with Peggy and Warrior. My experience with horses
since then has been watching the Kentucky Derby on TV.
Herman and Louise Phillips lived next door to us at the lake. Herman was a former track
Olympian, a Purdue University professor and in the summer operated a very successful boys
camp in Pokagon State Park on the third basin of Lake James. In 1941 he purchased an
abandoned boys camp called Camp Manitou on the north shore of Lake Huron fifteen miles by
boat west of Whitefish Falls, Ontario. He was putting together a group of twenty twelve to
fourteen year old boys to accompany him for four weeks and reopen the camp. I was invited to
join him. I accepted, dad paid the camp fees, and off I went as a twelve year old into the wilds of
Canada. It was the most fun I ever had and started my long love of Lake Hurons North
Channel, McGregor Bay, Bay Finn, Killarney, Little Current, Manitowaning, and Manitoulin
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Island. Everything about the camp was magical-the fifteen mile canoe trip from Whitefish Falls
to the camp; the overnight canoe trip to Sturgeon Bay on La Cloche Island to fish in a secret
inland lake (Potter Lake) that appeared to never have been fished in before (except by Ojibwe
Faith Keepers Indians); the canoe trip to a north channel island to select, skin and tow back to
the camp a tall tree to use as our flag pole; the thirty-two inch northern pike I caught trolling in a
canoe; the ten mile canoe trip and three mile canoe portage to pristine Trout Lake to camp and
fish; the hike to the top of a nearby small mountain with a view from the top of the vast
Evangeline mountain range and picking wild blueberries on the way; Frank (Francois) our
camps French Canadian handy man trying to get the camps lake water pump working by
pounding on the pump with a large wrench while using language (with a French accent) that I
was not allowed to use; going to the camp store to buy candy and receive mail from home; the
quiet period in the afternoon in our cabins resting and writing letters; the trips to the outhouse
from my cabin during the night while avoiding the snakes, porcupines and bears; and the
evenings around the huge blazing fireplace in the main lodge when the counselors would tell
ghost and other stories of the wilderness. In our spare time we did some carpentry and other
work in fixing up the camp buildings, tennis courts, camp grounds and a nearby creek dam (for
which I am sure Herman gave us credit against the camp fees).
My camping days foretold of my lasting love of Canadian waters-the north shore of Lake
Huron became a part of my soul.
Grade school days had ended all too soon. It was time for some serious studies and further
adventures.
Following are photos of me and my sister, Peggy, taken in 1942 when I was thirteen and she
was seventeen.
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PEGGY

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CHAPTER THREE
PREPARING FOR COLLEGE 1943-1946
These years were brief but held promise of a life to come with wonder, enrichment, learning
and love.
High School
In September of 1943 I was enrolled in Cincinnati Country Day School, a small private
school for boys grades 1-12 located in the suburb of Indian Hill. It was a forty-five minute
school bus ride from my home. Teenagers rarely had cars when I was in high school and I was
no exception. I would not have a car until my junior year in college.
There were about twelve students in my classes. The classes were rigorous and included
Latin, Spanish, grammar, literature and the classics. It is rare to find a high school that teaches
Latin anymore. How can the baby boomers and their children claim to have an education if they
have not read in Latin and remember the first sentence of Julius Caesars Gallic Wars? I am
being facetious but in case you have forgotten, hint: Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres.
When I asked my Latin teacher the usual student question, What good is it going to do me to
be able to read Latin? (or learn Calculus or pea pod genetics or the significance of E=mc
2
), he
responded that learning Latin was very important because it would help me understand the
derivation of English words and the meaning of words used by doctors and lawyers. Well I did
become a lawyer and it did not help me at all. There are a few Latin words and phrases that are
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used in the law but you know what they mean anyway. Speaking of Latin legal phrases, there is
one, de minimis non curat lex (the law does not concern itself with trifles) that had importance
to me in my legal scholarship. It is the basis of the following limerick:
There was once a lawyer named Rex,
Who had a very small organ of sex.
When charged with exposure,
He replied with composure,
De minimis non curat lex.

Most limericks that I knew were rather lewd and had to do with body parts and the use
thereof. Reciting a bawdy limerick showed that you were one of the boys and knew about such
things. I can think of only three that, for the most part, were more refined. Here goes:
On the chest of a barmaid at Yale
Were tattooed the prices of ale
And on her behind, for the sake of the blind
Was the same information in Braille.

There once was a maid from Madras
Who had a magnificent ass
Not rounded and pink, as youd possibly think
But gray with long ears and ate grass

There once was a young man named Enis
Who with limerick writing was genius
Wrote one thousand thirty, not one of them dirty
Til he noticed his name rhymed with penis.

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Although I knew most of the dirty and swear words, these were never used by my parents.
When I was fourteen I heard a friend of my brother say to him in my presence Lets go uptown
and screw around. When I heard the word screw being used, I was shocked. To me the word
screw was a reference to sexual activity and should not be used. The friend probably was using
the word in the generic sense and meant mess around. Now of course, the ever popular F word is
used as a substitute for all adjectives. I did not run into the prolific use of this word until I was in
the Army. It was used so much that you became numb to its use. My law partner related to me
an incident on his first leave home from the Army. He was having dinner with the family and
said to his mother, Mom, please pass the f___ing mash potatoes.

When I think of grammar, I always remember my dear grandmother Lester from Tuscaloosa,
Alabama, who had a reverence for grammar. She said it was what separated one from the
common folks. She often reminded me that there are four very important things to remember:
Corn is raised and people are reared, Horses sweat and people perspire, Meals are prepared and
animals are fixed, and People become angry and dogs become mad.

I especially remember four poems, and I can still recite parts of them upon request. We were
required to memorize these poems, why I do not know. Perhaps it was thought that memorizing
was good for your brain development. Perhaps it helped me remember the lewd limericks.
The first poem was Robert Frosts Mending Wall (Something there is that doesnt love a
wall; and Good fences make good neighbors). The second poem was Edgar Allen Poes tale of
lost love Annabel Lee (It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea; and This
maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me). The third, Evangeline
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by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, tells the heartbreaking story of the expelled and separated
Arcadians Gabriel and Evangeline who finally meet again at his death bed (This is the forest
primeval, The murmuring pines and the hemlocks; and Still stands the forest primeval, but far
away from its shadow, side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping). And who
could forget the lost Lenore in the fourth poem, Poes The Raven (Once upon a midnight dreary,
while I pondered, weak and weary; and Quoth the raven- Nevermore).

Athletics were a big part of my high school experience. I played baseball, football and
basketball. Even though I was athletic, I did not do well in baseball. I was afraid that I would be
hit by the ball when I came to bat. If they threw me a high outside pitch I could occasionally hit
the ball for a double but other than that, I was worthless. I was put by my coach in right field so
that I did not have a chance to drop many long hit balls.
Football was my favorite. I liked anything that had to do with hitting an opponent as hard as I
could-blocking and especially tackling. I was the running back and I still remember running
back a kickoff for ninety-eight yards against Mariemont High. The cheers of the crowd still ring
in my ears. In those days the smaller schools around Cincinnati played six man football and we
were tough. We had a six and one record. We got a little cocky and accepted a challenge to play
Ohio Military Academy in eleven man football. Hastily assembling a larger team (with some
eighth graders), we gave battle but came up a little short (56-0)! I loved basketball even though
we did not win many games. Coach Speedy Swift said that losing would temper us for lifes
disappointments. I would have liked much better to win than be tempered. Basketball was very
different then. No jump shot, foul shots were with two hands underhand and no ten second rule.
At awards ceremony at the end of my junior year I was named outstanding basketball and
football player and received a small silver basketball and football pendent. I still have them.
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When I was a freshman in high school I had many neighborhood friends who went to the
local public Withrow High School. They all joined a fraternity at Withrow and I followed suit.
It had a three word Greek name which I do not remember-something like Omega Gamma Tau.
The fraternity initiation was miserable-much more forbidding than my initiation into Delta Tau
Delta at Hillsdale College four years later. The high school fraternity initiation consisted, among
other things, of rear end paddling until bloody, swallowing weird and noxious substances
(arachnids? grubs?), swallowing pills that made you pee purple for days, and being dropped off
in a dense woods about ten miles from home with no ID or money. I guess the purpose was to
prove that you were a real man at fourteen.
This and That
I personally do not remember any hardship because of WW II. Driving was restricted to a
maximum of thirty-five miles per hour and I could live with it. Dad got a ticket only once while
driving from Cincinnati to Lake James. Only one ticket was a record for him as he drove like
Barney Oldfield. There was gas rationing but dad somehow had gotten a B gas ration card
(issued for business use) which allowed him to drive back and forth from Cincinnati to the lake.
Ice cream sundaes at the Modern Store in Angola were in fact ice milk because of the shortage of
cream. All were minor inconveniences. Overshadowing all of this was, of course, the fact that
my brother George was in the Army at the front lines in northern Italy. When the front door bell
would ring, no one wanted to answer. Would there be a telegram? I do not know how my
parents handled the constant strain. I thank God that my son did not have to be in the armed
service. I dont think I could have survived.
Following is a photo of my brother, Private George Berger, US Army-1943.
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A highlight in any young mans life is of course getting his first drivers license when he
reaches sixteen. I took my drivers test while driving a car with an automatic transmission. Very
few cars then had automatic transmissions and the person testing me really did not know how to
grade me. One of the testing requirements was that the driver had to shift gears smoothly. When
we returned from the test drive, there was a lot of discussion by the officials as to what to do
about me since I had not shown proficiency in shifting. It took a call to Columbus to sort things
out. It seems that the new testing manual which did not require shifting expertise was not
officially approved yet but they would give me a waiver (whatever that was), and sent me on my
way with my drivers license. I did not let them down. I had only one accident in my entire
driving career and that was right in front of my house when I was seventeen. It seems that I was
backing down our driveway in my borrowed grandfather Bergers 1938 Packard seven
passenger, twelve cylinder, six thousand pound, one hundred and forty-four inch wheelbase
automobile when our neighbor stopped his car right at the base of our driveway to discharge a
passenger. I did not see him and you can imagine what happened to his car when hit by a six
thousand pound car.
The Packard was marvelous. It had a steering wheel about two feet in diameter, two jump
seats in the back, and, here is a secret that very few know, if you turned off the ignition key when
driving at about forty miles per hour, it would backfire twice like a two inch cherry bomb.
Another thrill was driving my Grandfather Bergers other car. It was a 1936? Reo made by the
R.E. Olds Motor Company, the predecessor of Oldsmobile. The reason that it was a thrill was
that it had a novel gear shift lever. The lever was about an inch and a half in diameter and came
straight up from the floor to seat level. The way you shifted was to push in and pull out the lever
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toward or away from the floor. The problem (and thrill) was that you never knew what gear you
were in until you let the clutch out-and then maybe wham.

When I was fourteen I had my first girl friend. Her name was Dorothy McShane. Before then
the boys would get rid of the girls by saying to them such things as, Roses are red. Violets are
blue. Monkeys like you, belong in a zoo. But now the stirrings started and it was time to have
female companionship. We would hang out, go to movies and hold hands. I showed my
commitment to her by giving her a silver bracelet with the engraving To my darling Dorothy
from Jack. About two months later the bracelet fell off her wrist. It dropped through a street
grating into a deep sewer and, like the Raven, was seen Nevermore. This must have been an
omen because we broke up shortly thereafter. We had never gone to the next level from
holding hands-we had never kissed.
I would not have another girl friend until I was sixteen. Her name was Betty. She was slim
with dark hair and eyes, attractive, and about five foot two. We dated for about two years during
my sophomore and junior years in high school. I remember just the two of us dancing in her
basement recreation room and holding her tightly. The song playing on the phonograph was our
favorite, the Mills Brothers Till Then. We hid a new 1946 penny in the small hanging overhead
ceiling lamp and promised to keep it there as our secret, till then. I never kissed Betty. It seems
strange now but at the time I held her in a kind of reverence-she was my Annabel Lee-and
kissing would have ruined the spell. After I left for college, we drifted apart and I did not see her
again. I heard much later that she had never married and had died of cancer at the age of thirty-
eight. I wonder if the penny is still there in the lamp waiting for the young lovers to return.
Following is a photo of Betty which she gave me, upon which she wrote: Till Then Love
always-Betty.
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I guess I had a normal high school social life with only one caveat. My mother had a
southern lady background and required me, as an aspiring gentleman, to attempt to learn
ballroom dancing. I was duly enrolled in Madame Fedarovas dance classes which met monthly
at a grand ballroom at the Vernon Manor Hotel. There I met the daughters of Cincinnati society,
one of whom I am sure my mother intended me to someday wed. I disappointed her.
I did learn how to waltz, two-step (with a deep dip now and then), tango and do the rumba. It
would come in handy when I was seventeen and would attend the annual spring Cincinnati
cotillions (A ball at which young ladies are presented to society) in my junior year. I would
arrive at the ball with my date (Betty) in my parents 1941 four door gold Cadillac convertible
with green leather seats.
At cotillion the men (boys) were dressed in tuxedos with black or white jackets and black or
maroon cummerbunds. In the right lapel they wore a carnation boutonniere given to them by
their lady escorts. The ladies (girls) wore beautiful full length formal gowns with a corsage from
their companions pinned to their dress above their right breast or attached to the left wrist. The
corsages would be centered by roses, orchids or gardenias surrounded by babys breath
(happiness). The ladies would have dance cards and there was always a mad rush by the boys to
reserve a dance with the pretty girls. Several young ladies would be presented at each cotillion.
The dances were held in a lavish country club ballroom with two 12-14 piece orchestras playing
alternately. There would be an elaborate evening buffet and punch would be served-plain and
spiked! I did not drink in high school except for the punch at cotillion (under the supervision of
parental chaperons), an occasional Tom Collins in the afternoon at the Makatewah Country Club
pool, and a little Canadian Club rye blended whisky now and then. The reason that I drank
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Canadian Club is that someone gave a case of this booze to my dad and he did not like the taste.
He gave the case to me with appropriate instructions as to moderate use.
The balls would end just after midnight with the playing of Goodnight Sweetheart. These
were wondrous days, but are now gone with the wind.
My first introduction to Florida was over Christmas break 1944-1945. I was to be sixteen in
January. Mom had spent two months at Fort Lauderdale for several years and I was invited to
join her and dad for ten days. When my mom and dad first went to Fort Lauderdale, Jewish
people were not allowed. They had to go to Miami to be with their kind. Our name is not only
German but also Jewish and it took some verification that they were German and English
catholic to be able to make a reservation. This was the time of zealous racial discrimination.
These were the days of segregated movies, rest rooms, drinking fountains, most public
accommodations and transportation. When mom was returning by train from Florida once she
was told by the colored porter that she could not be seated in the white cars. Mortified, she had
to show that it was only a tan.
Mom and dad always stayed at the Trade Winds hotel which was right on the beach. The
only other hotel at the beach was the Lauderdale Beach Hotel. The beach was family oriented
and rather subdued because of WW II. Franklin Delano Roosevelt would die the following
spring at Warm Springs, Georgia, on April 12th, and the Japanese would not surrender until
August .
By todays standards the Trade Winds was rather small. I thought that it was a magnificent
palace with large round dining room overlooking the Atlantic and lounge with bar just up a few
steps from the lobby. Every evening I would be in the lounge (they did not check ages then and
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besides I was convinced that I looked at least twenty-five) listening to the piano player (not Sam
but Jimmy) play some of my favorite love songs, Its Been a Long Long Time (Kiss me once,
and kiss me twice, then kiss me once again) and Oh! What it Seemed to Be (It was just a
wedding in June, thats all that it was). Seventeen years later I would marry my Susanna in June.
When my dad retired, he and mom bought a condominium on the 10th floor of Birch Tower
on Fort Lauderdale beach, two blocks from the Trade Winds, where they lived for many happy
years. They are still there in the old Fort Lauderdale Cemetery at a far quiet corner under a
spreading melaleuca tree. My sister, Peggy, lies with them.
Two years ago I stopped off at Fort Lauderdale on my way to catching a Royal Caribbean
cruise with my children to the southern Caribbean. The Trade Winds still stands today nestled
between condominiums and small beach shops. The Lauderdale Beach Hotel was demolished
years ago to make way for a huge condominium. The Fort Lauderdale beach area has been
renovated (after the spring break kids were finally kicked out) and is beautiful with large brick
sidewalks and manicured beach. Strangely I felt sad, probably in remembering the happy days
of youth, gone forever. I could almost hear Jimmy playing my songs.
The summer that I was sixteen, 1945, in the month of July and just before the bombs were
dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Pete and I took off on a two week trip to Manitoulin Island
and the north shores of Lake Huron. I would at last be returning to my old Camp Manitou
stomping grounds.
Preparation for the trip consisted of buying or obtaining two rods and reels for pike and bass
fishing, a fly rod and reel for me, a tackle box with pike and bass lures, a large dip net, pup tent
(the smallest tent available that you could squeeze two adults into lying side by side), ropes, a
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two burner propane stove, matches, two sleeping bags, blankets, small pillows, lots of citronella,
a small medicine kit, a skillet, a percolator, pots and pans, a collapsible aluminum cup, two large
fishing knives, axe, soap, wash cloths and towels, peanut butter and jelly, bread, cans of soup and
various meats and vegetables. We planned on eating a lot of fish. One thing we forgot and
thanks to my mother we were saved. When I unrolled my sleeping bag the first night out, I
found inside two rolls of toilet paper and a jar of Mum that mom had tucked in. Also we would
take Petes two and a half horsepower Johnson outboard motor and a five gallon gas can. We
loaded everything into my dads 1940 Chevy with one hundred and fifty thousand miles on it,
bid farewell to apprehensive parents, and off we headed to the wild north. Our path took us
north to Michigan on US 27 through Lansing, Clare, and Indian River to Mackinaw City and the
Straights of Mackinac. The Straights separated the lower peninsula from the upper peninsula of
Michigan. The distance is five miles from shore to shore-from Mackinaw City to St. Ignace. As
of 1957 the straights have been spanned by the magnificent suspension Mackinac Bridge. We
stayed at a cabin in Mackinaw City that first night and early the next morning boarded the large
car ferry for the trip across the straights. From St Ignace we drove the forty miles north across
the upper peninsula to Sault Ste. Marie, viewed the locks connecting Lake Superior with Lake
Huron, and crossed the Saint Marys River below the locks on a small car ferry into Ontario
Canada. Customs inspection consisted of four questions. Where were you born? What is the
purpose of your trip? How long will you stay? Do you have any liquor of firearms? After a
quick peek into the car, that was it. I had now entered into a new world with strange colored
paper money, coins with the Queen on them, delightful English heritage people that said aye
all of the time, English Dairy Milk chocolate bars, and Players cigarettes. I still get a thrill when
I enter Ontario. We headed east on the Kings Highway through towns with the enchanting
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names of Bruce Mines, Thessalon, Iron Bridge, Blind River, Spanish and Espanola. At Espanola
(which had a large German prisoner of war camp) we headed south through the mountains on
winding narrow gravel roads (Pete sat on the front fender of our car to get a better view) to the
village of Whitefish Falls and the Stump and Fry emporium with variety store and cabins. We
spent our last night there in a cabin before entering the wilderness. It was a short drive to our
planned embarkation point, Birch Island Station, a small village that separated the North Channel
of Lake Huron to the west from McGregor Bay in Lake Huron to the east. Birch Island Station
had a small grocery, a primitive marina with gasoline and wooden row boats for rent, a beautiful
Catholic Church which served the mostly Indian population, and a monument that described that
Franklin Delano Roosevelt had stopped there on his way to fishing in McGregor Bay. We rented
a rowboat, secured our outboard motor to the boat, gassed up, loaded our treasures into the boat
and cast off into McGregor Bay. We had purchased a map of the area at Stump and Fry and had
decided to head east to Little Lake Nellie, a small lake within the Birch Island Indian
Reservation, and make camp. Little Lake Nellie was about eight miles away (seven miles if you
took the small cut between two islands called Dog Home Pass which had two inches of
clearance). The entire area was gorgeous-sparkling clear fresh water, bright blue sky, fluffy
white clouds, gentle breeze, islands of smooth rounded rock with clinging small pine trees, and
soaring gulls. We only saw one other boat, a canoe, on our entire trip.
On our trip to Little Lake Nellie we encountered only one small problem. The back of the
boat, the part that held the motor, kept coming loose and had to be pounded upon every hour
with our axe. Later we obtained some huge spikes and were able to better secure the back panel.
We set up camp at the far end of Little Lake Nellie and stayed there for a week. We used it as
our base camp to explore nearby waters and mountains. The pike fishing was great and we
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caught many small mouth bass at the small swift current entrance to the lake from McGregor
Bay proper. We even had a visit by canoe by a delightful fifteen year old girl, Shirley Abbott,
and her brother who lived in the summer on an island nearby. They had heard Pete and me
singing and had come to investigate. We became fast friends and visited with them and their
mom at their cottage several times. I think both Pete and I had a crush on her.
After the week we returned to Birch Island Station and turned in the boat. We drove south
over La Cloche Island and passed over the 1913 railroad swing bridge onto Manitoulin Island
and its thriving capital, Little Current. Little Current is a small town located on the northeast
shore of Manitoulin Island which was settled in 1860 and is the shopping, recreational and
boating center for northern Lake Huron. Manitoulin Island is the largest freshwater inland lake
island in the world. The town had a Canadian Customs House, a small hotel, restaurant
(Anchor Inn), marina with town docks, drug store, grocery store, an inn overlooking the channel,
and Turners clothing store. Turners clothing store was the preferred, and only, clothing store.
It featured English blankets, cashmere sweaters, woolen suits, skirts and jackets, Irish linen
handkerchiefs and other items of clothing not found in the United States. I had enough money to
purchase a white blanket striped with red and blue which I still have. We spent the night at the
old inn at Little Current and took our first real bath. We did not shave as we wanted to show off
our beards when we returned home.
The next morning we headed south on Manitoulin Island through the village of Sheguiandah
and on to the town of Manitowaning and Manitowaning Lodge. My parents and sister Peggy had
heard so many good things about the area from me, based upon my Camp Manitou days, that
they decided to drive to Manitoulin Island and meet me at Manitowaning Lodge. It was a
remodeled beautiful rustic hunting and fishing lodge with eight cottages. Pete stayed with us at
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the lodge for two days and then drove home alone in the old Chevy. I stayed for five more days
before driving home with my parents and sister.

Following is a photograph of my lifelong best friend, Pete Bowman. He passed away in 2012.



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There were three highlights to my stay at the lodge. One was being flown in a small sea plane
with canoe strapped between the floats to a remote uninhabited mountain lake called Lake
Kakakise. I was dropped off at an island in the lake to spend the night and next day alone
exploring and fishing. I would be picked up the next day. I was told that there were a few rattle
snakes and bears in the area that I should look out for. I was reassured, however, that the bears
did not come out to the island. I was also told to tie all my food in a bag and hang the bag high
in a tree at night. I could not reconcile the no bears on the island statement with the hanging the
food in a tree statement. I spent a spooky night imagining that I heard large animals swimming
around but encountered no bears. It was a great adventure.
The second was going fishing with Art, our sixty-five year old Indian guide. Art lived in the
Indian settlement of Wikwemikong, a small peninsula just east of Manitowaning across
Manitowaning Bay. This settlement is the only unceded Indian Reservation in Canada. This
area is still a sovereign Indian state. In the early 1800s the Ottawa (Odawa) and Ojibwe Indians
claimed ownership of large portions of lower Ontario including the Lake Huron area. By a series
of treaties ending in 1836, the Indians relinquished to Canada their claims to all of this area
except Manitoulin Island. After the mineral, agricultural and recreational opportunities of
Manitoulin Island were recognized by the white man, the Indians in 1862 entered into a new
treaty (voluntarily?) with Canada ceding all of Manitoulin Island to Canada except
Wikwemikong.
We met Art at his boat dock in Wikwemikong. He had an older eighteen foot outboard boat
with a small cabin. We motored up the east side of the peninsula to his favorite fishing spot for
small mouth bass. We used night crawlers for bait. We would throw our lines with small sinkers
out and watch the bait slowly descend through the clear blue waters toward the huge rock piles
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twenty feet below. Suddenly a bass would appear from the distant rocks, grab the bait, and the
fun would begin. The rest stop was a very old nearby cabin that Art had built many years ago.
The amenities consisted of a one hole outhouse arrived at by a small path in the woods with
unknown animals lurking nearby I am sure. The facilities had not been used for awhile as the
toilet opening was completely covered with spider webs and there was no toilet paper.
The third and most important highlight of my stay at the lodge was Alice Jamison. She was a
pretty and petit seventeen year old girl from Sudbury who was spending the summer at the lodge
as a waitress. We spent every evening together under the brilliant stars just talking and holding
hands. She was delightful and I immediately succumbed to her charms-as only a sixteen year old
boy could. Soon we had to part but we promised to write and see each other again next year.
We never did. I think of her now as she was at seventeen and sentimentally recall the song
Under Blue Canadian Skies.
I have a story to unfold
It happened way up north in days of old
I lost my way and found a heart of gold
Under blue Canadian skies.
Her lips were sweeter than the wine
Her hair was fragrant as the northern pine
And suddenly I knew that love was mine
Under blue Canadian skies.

With a sad heart we headed for home south on Manitoulin Island to the ferry landing at South
Baymouth to catch the new SS Norisle, a two hundred and fourteen foot steam powered
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passenger and car ferry, for a trip across the Georgian Bay Main Channel to Tobermory on the
northern tip of the Bruce Peninsula. The ship could carry two hundred passengers and fifty cars.
The trip was about thirty miles and took about three and a half hours. It could be a very rough
passage with huge waves created by an unobstructed two hundred and fifty miles of Lake Huron
from Mackinaw City, Michigan. The SS Norisle was replaced in 1974 by the M.S. Chi-
Cheemaun (Big Canoe) which is the largest car ferry on the great lakes. It is three hundred and
sixty-five feet long, can carry six hundred and thirty-eight passengers, one hundred forty-three
cars, and can make the trip in under two hours. It is an exciting ship which I have taken many
times.
We stayed in Tobermory at a rustic motel for our last night in Canada. The trip home took us
along the east side of Lake Huron through such picturesque Canadian towns as Port Elgin,
Kincardine and the resort town of Goderich, and onward to Sarnia and the Blue Water Bridge to
Port Huron, Michigan, and home. I would return to Manitoulin Island, the North Channel and
McGregor Bay many times. All visits would be wonderful, but not quite like the excitement of
the first time.
In the summer of 1946, after my junior year at Country Day, I spent two weeks with my
parents and sister at The Breakers in Spring Lake, New Jersey, a large late 1800s Victorian
summer hotel on the Atlantic beach. I was seventeen and a man. All I can remember from this
vacation was staying up late at the hotel bar and going deep sea fishing. I spent the entire boat
trip in the cabin with sea sickness. The reason we were at Spring Lake was to rest up for my
brothers impending wedding in New Haven, Connecticut.
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My brother was twenty three. He had received a medical discharge from the Army after
being wounded near the Arno River in Italy while serving in the U.S. Fifth Army under General
Mark Clark in the second war to end all wars. He was a front line medic when the average life
expectancy of a medic was measured in days. The home front tried to keep their spirits up by
listening to Vaughn Monroe singing When the lights go on again all over the world (Then well
have time for things like wedding rings and free hearts will sing) and Kay Kysers Praise the
Lord and pass the ammunition (and well all stay free).
My brother was about to marry his sweetheart Elizabeth Mary Graves (Deeda), a delightful
young lady from a traditional Yale family. He had met her when he was in the Army and
training at a hospital in Chicago. It just so happened that the daughter (Deeda) of a longtime
friend of the family and good cigar leaf tobacco customer, Frederick D. Grave, was going to
college at nearby Rockford College. Brother George was directed by my grandfather to look her
up (Rockford College turned out to be about eighty-five miles away) and be nice to her. He did
look her up and was nice to her. The families were shocked and somewhat mortified to hear that
after only one meeting, Deeda spent a weekend in Chicago with brother George at the Drake
Hotel. As they say, the rest is history.
My brothers bachelor dinner was of course at Morys in New Haven, the iconic private
membership Yalie eating club founded in 1849, and I was invited. The dinner was celebrated
in the large and very impressive upper room of Morys. Throughout dinner a very large loving
cup filled with champagne was passed between the revelers and we each took a large sip. There
were many toasts. A final toast was given at the end of the dinner and we all thrust our wine
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glasses into the burning fireplace where they shattered in a beautiful array of reflected colors.
We then stood, and solemnly bid good wishes to my brother by singing The Whiffenpoof Song:

To the tables down at Morys,
To the place where Louis dwells,
To the dear old Temple Bar
We love so well,
Sing the Whiffenpoofs assembled
With their glasses raised on high,
And the magic of their singing casts its spell.
We are poor little lambs
Who have lost our way.
Baa! Baa! Baa!
We are little black sheep
Who have gone astray.
Baa! Baa! Baa!

As we parted I am glad we could not see into the future. George would lose his darling
Deeda to ovarian cancer when she was fifty-eight.
Following is a photo of George and Deeda at their wedding.
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I first met Deeda at our cottage at Lake James the year before she married George, when she
came to visit one summer when I was sixteen. George was still in the Army recuperating from
his injuries. She smoked cigarettes of course-everyone did-and she thought that it was about
time that I learned. She introduced me to Spuds cigarettes (fifteen cents a pack), the original
mentholated cigarettes. I liked them because I did not gag as much on the mentholated ones and
because they had nifty cork tips. It was not until seventeen years later that I quit. No more
coffin nails.
John Patrick Gilmore II
Writing about my brother George brings back remembrance of another brother of mine-
John Patrick Gilmore II. Although Pat was not related to me by birth, he was related by love.
Pat first showed up at our cottage door at Lake James one early June when I was about ten.
He was spending the summer at the lake with an aunt and uncle who had a nearby cottage. He
was sixteen, my brothers age, and said he wanted to meet my family, although I suspect my
fourteen year old developing sister, Peggy, had something to do with it. I learned later that Pats
parents were not particularly interested in him and he had spent most of his early years with his
aunt and uncle. That summer, and each summer thereafter until he went into the service, he
basically lived with us at the lake. Pat and I became very close and he was treated as a member
of our family. When my brother George was off somewhere doing what teenagers do, it was Pat,
who was six years older than I, who always seemed mature and sensible, and in whom I would
confide. He seemed to understand my imagined problems and would always have comforting
advice.
World War II brought an abrupt hiatus in our relationship as Pat volunteered for the Army Air
Force. He was a pilot and flew many missions from England over France and Germany in his B-
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17 Flying Fortress, the workhorse four engine heavy bomber. B-17 losses were staggering but
somehow he and most of his crew members survived even after being hit often by flak. When he
returned from war, he gave me a piece of flak that he had dug out of his plane. I still have this
piece of jagged metal which I often hold and think of all of those young men who sacrificed so
much for all of us.


FIRST LIEUTENANT JOHN PATRICK GILMORE II

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After Pats Army discharge, he returned to Tanglewood, our home in Indiana, as part of our
family. He attended the local Tri-State University for one year but could not seem to stay
focused on his studies. He was still the captain of his B-17 and of his men, protecting them from
the horrors of war. His dreams of becoming a physician like his uncle seemed to fade away. He
was truly a casualty of the war-a kind and gentle person who was thrust into responsibilities and
actions beyond his years.
Pat dropped out of college, moved to Fort Wayne, and obtained employment as a car
salesman. A year later, he moved to Milwaukee. I was in college then and I thoughtlessly did
not ask my parents why Pat moved and what he would be doing. After his move, we never heard
from Pat again-I do not know why. As I reflect upon all of this, I experience a profound sadness.
I wish that I had done something to find and contact him. Perhaps I could have helped him and
tried to repay all that he did for me as a young man, and all that he did for our country.
Pat, wherever you are, I send my love and wish you well.

Off to College

After my junior year in high school, the WWII draft was still in full swing. I was seventeen.
In order to attend college before being drafted, I enrolled after my junior year in high school at
Hillsdale College, a small liberal arts college in Hillsdale, Michigan, under a wartime early
enrollment program. I skipped my senior year of high school so technically I am not a high
school graduate.

In early September of 1946 at the age of seventeen I was dropped off at the Sanderson House,
an old Hillsdale hotel which had recently been converted into a rooming house. It was to be my
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home for my first year of college. The regular Hillsdale dorms were full with the return to
school of many servicemen under the GI Bill and the Sanderson House was used for the
overflow. My college career was about to begin.

This is a photo of me when I entered Hillsdale in 1946-age 17.




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CHAPTER FOUR
Higher Education 1946-1953

During my college years I attended Hillsdale College for four years and Harvard Law School
for three years.
Hillsdale College 1946-1950

Hillsdale College of Hillsdale, Michigan, was founded in 1844, and is a small coeducational
non-denominational private college. When I entered Hillsdale in the fall of 1946, even with the
influx of returning veterans, the enrollment was about five hundred. Enrollment is held to one
thousand today.

My brother was attending Hillsdale College and lived in a small rental home with his wife
Deeda. My sister was also attending Hillsdale. Since I could attend Hillsdale with only three
years of high school, and since my brother and sister were instructed to look after me, Hillsdale
was the logical choice for me to go to college. It was a great choice.

At orientation I had to choose a major. I did not have the slightest idea what career to follow
or for that matter, I really did not know one career from another. All I knew was that I was
expected to get a college degree. It turned out to be an easy decision. At orientation I was told if
I majored in physics that I would be deferred from the draft. A year ago on August 6, 1945, the
world started the atomic age with the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The atom and its
potential energy opened a huge new field of science and I was told the United States wanted me
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to help-not as a soldier but as a physicist. Four years later I would be graduated with a Bachelor
of Science degree in Physics.
My parents had moved permanently from Cincinnati to Jimmerson Lake near Angola,
Indiana, in the fall of 1946 and built a home on ten acres overlooking the lake which they had
named Tanglewood.
This is a photo of me with my parents, John and Margaret Berger and Jezabelle at Tanglewood in
1952.

Jimmerson Lake connects to Lake James by a short channel and is about thirty-five miles
south of Hillsdale by back roads. Since I did not have a car in my freshman year I had to
improvise to get home from college for holidays and over a few weekends. I had an old bicycle
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which I rigged with a Sears bicycle gas motor. I jazzed the motor up so that the bike would do
forty-two miles per hour and I could make it one way in about forty-five minutes, weather, dogs
and cows permitting. The main problem was that the motor was situated between my legs and it
became very hot. I could almost feel the hair on my legs burning. Also I would reek of gasoline
until I changed clothes. A secondary problem was that the motor was so powerful and the
spokes were so thin and old, that after about three round trips the back wheel spokes all ripped
out. My folks felt sorry for me and bought a used Cushman Road King scooter for me. A week
after the purchase I was showing off my new vehicle and headed to Lake Baw Beese with my
roommate as a passenger. The scooter was designed for one passenger and as a result, it was
hard for the driver to reach the shift lever with a passenger aboard. Consequently, when I yelled
shift my passenger was to shift. On the approach to the lake at maximum speed I hit some soft
sand and the scooter began to slide sideways. I said shit and my passenger, considering the
noise of the motor and all, thought I said shift and being a good co-pilot, down shifted to the
lowest gear. Disaster struck and the entire transmission blew out. I would not have another
vehicle until the spring of my junior year.
There were three fraternities and three sororities at Hillsdale. About half of the students
belonged to a Greek organization. The fraternities were Delta Tau Delta, Alpha Tau Omega and
Sigma Chi. My brother was a Delt. The sororities were Kappa Kappa Gamma, Pi Beta Phi and
Chi Omega. My sister was a Pi Phi. Rushing for fraternities started when school started and I,
as a Delt legacy, was pledged as a Delt. Hell week was not too bad. My high school fraternity
initiation was much tougher. At the Delt initiation the paddling was more symbolic and we were
not dropped off very far from town. Before initiation we had to know the names of the four
founding fathers of DTD and recite the Greek alphabet in five seconds. Knowing the Greek
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alphabet came in handy when years later at homecoming the old grads would challenge each
other to see who could still remember it. One tradition however had the potential for great pride
or embarrassment. At the beginning of hell week the pledges were all measured (I am sure you
know what was measured) and the pledge with the smallest one was designated the water boy.
He had to carry a water bucket all week around campus. The pledge with the longest one was
designated the fire chief and he wore a firemans hat all week. I did not win either award. Years
later when I went to homecoming the water boy was in attendance with wife and four children.
Music was very much a part of fraternity life. Fraternity songs such as Youre My Honey and
Now For Old Delta were sung by the men of Delta in the evening below the dorm window of a
young lady who had just been pinned (receiving a Delt pin from a Delt as an emblem of his
enduring love). There was a special Delt song for each of the three sororities which was sung at
the serenade. I can still see the gathered men of Delta with candlelight singing in harmony, and
the smiling girl in her window silhouetted against the soft bedroom light.
Weekend evenings were the time for couples to gather around a bonfire either on the big hill
at the back of the Arboretum or at the shore of Lake Baw Beese. There would be singing, some
drinking of beer or weird vodka or gin drinks with names like Purple BeJesus, and late quiet time
(beneath a blanket?).
Drinking songs were popular. One, or a variation thereof, that was probably universal was:
Heres to (the drinkee), hes true blue
Hes a drunkard through and through
So set him up a tankard, celebrate the day
Tried to go to heaven, but he went the other way.
So drink chug a lug, chug a lug (etc. until the beer bottle is empty)
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Another test of memory and acuity when drinking was to play One Hen-Two Ducks. To
play, assemble four or more players in a circle and have them repeat after the leader in turn
clockwise one word, then two words, then three words, then on for ten words or groups of words
until the finish. If you could not repeat the words properly you had to take a big drink of beer.
You had to try again in the next round. It was tough to get past the fourth group of words and
with each mistake and drink memory faded more. Gather some friends and a case of beer and try
this out:
One hen
One hen, two ducks
One hen, two ducks, three cackling geese
One hen, two ducks, three cackling geese, four limerick oysters
(Then in turn add)
Five corpulent porpoises
Six pairs of Don Alversos favorite tweezers
Seven thousand Macedonians clad in full battle array
Eight brass monkeys from the ancient, sacred, secret crypts of Egypt
Nine apathetic, sympathetic, diabetic old men with canes
Ten lyrical, spherical heliotropes from the Helio Menethia.

The Delt house was an old converted home with four floors and a basement adjoining the
small campus. On the first floor were a large living room with piano and small black and white
TV, the dining room, and back living quarters for our house mother, Murr. The second and third
floors held the bedrooms, group bathrooms and card room (pinochle). On the very top, under the
sloping roof, was the poop deck where I lived my sophomore year. It consisted of two small
rooms with two beds each and a long rope curled up near the window which was to be used in
case of fire. The basement held the sacred Delt meeting room-all in black. I hope that divulging
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the color of the sacred meeting room is not in violation of my sworn secrecy promises, but I
dont remember now all that I had sworn to. One I do remember-the secret code name that
would be whispered to identify a brother Delt. It is ****.
The living room was the venue for our annual Delt parties such as the Bowery Brawl. We
would all dress like we thought raucous people did in the olden days at the Bowery in lower
Manhattan. I do not know why, but we also piled bales of hay around the room. We had quite a
few musically talented brothers and we presented several skits with duet singing, trombone
playing, and comical repartee. I was even in one skit and played the song Memories on the
piano.
The living room was also where the brothers gathered to watch television. We were the first
fraternity to have television, black and white of course, and we welcomed everyone to watch.
Programming was very limited and most of the programs consisted of boxing matches and
comedians, such as Mory Amsterdam, doing standup comedy or skits.
In June of my junior year three brother Delts and I decided to represent our Kappa Chapter of
Delta Tau Delta at the annual three day conference to be held at French Lick in southern Indiana.
The conference was at the French Lick Springs Hotel, a large Victorian hotel with old world
charm and grandeur built in 1845. It attracted guests from around the world to bathe in and
experience the miracle waters at nearby sulfur springs which emitted a constant strong smell of
sulfur. The miracle waters were bottled and called Pluto Water. Eager patrons would drink it as
a laxative. It was guaranteed to be effective within one hour. The slogan was When Nature
Wont, PLUTO Will.
The hotel did not have a casino in those days (they did have four slot machines in the lobby)
and since soaking for hours in a hot sulfur spring had lost its charm, there were few guests other
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than the Delts. The only excitement was diving from the toilet seat into the overflowing large
and very deep room bathtubs. After a day of smelling the Pluto Water everywhere and diving,
we decided to abandon the conference and head for Louisville, Kentucky. I had been through
Kentucky on a train (the City of Miami, a seven-car coach, Pullman sleeper, and lounge car train
from Chicago to Miami) and flown over it in a four prop engine Lockheed Constellation
Connie distinguished by its triple tail design, but I had never explored the mysteries of
Louisville. There were two old and distinguished hotels in Louisville. One was the beaux arts
baroque Seelbach which opened in 1905 and is now a Hilton. It billed itself as the only
fireproof hotel in the city. The other is the Brown which opened in 1923 and sadly closed in
1971. We decided to stay in the newer Brown. Upon arrival we checked into a huge room and
then explored the downtown. That evening after too many rum drinks in our room, my Hillsdale
roommate who had been a Marine suggested that we have some late evening entertainment. At
his request, and with my deep apprehension, we each divvied up fifteen bucks ($60.00 total) and
he left to find the bell boy. The bell boy turned out to be very amenable. Yes, he could arrange
for a suitable young lady to join us in our room for fifty dollars-twenty-five dollars now and
twenty-five dollars upon satisfactory completion of the assignation. The down payment was
paid, the ex marine returned to our room, and we anxiously awaited our guest. There was much
speculation by the awaitees. Would she be white or black? We decided that we did not care.
Who would go first and what would the rotation be? No problem there. We only had one rubber
and all of us but the Marine chickened out anyway. I knew the basics about sexual intercourse
but I was not about to put it to the test. As time went on with no knock on the door, we finally
realized that we had been had. The Marine gave us our partial refund and we called it a day. It
was a great Delt convention.
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From such an inauspicious venture you would not expect the four of us to ever amount to
anything-I became a judge, another brother became a recognized orthodontist, another a chemist
who founded a large automobile paint company, and our hero ex Marine joined the CIA, was
stationed all over the world, and completed many difficult assignments (which he would never
tell me about).
I dated several girls at Hillsdale during my freshman year but after I met Rosemarie in my
sophomore year, I knew she was my girl. She was a year behind me, very cute, smart, and a joy
to be with. We would meet and talk at the local hangout campus restaurant (with two great pin
ball machines), and attend hill, beach (Bawbees Lake) and fraternity parties. We had a
wonderful time together. We never really seriously discussed our future together-she had
another year of college and I was going off to law school for three years and then the Army. I
saw Rosemarie several times after my graduation but time and separation took its toll. I look
back today and realize that my time with Rosemarie was among the best times of my life.
In the spring of my junior year I was involved in a car accident. My roommate was driving
his car and I and another friend were in the front seat. No seatbelts then of course. We were
returning from a trip to Jonesville and as we approached Hillsdale and rounded a bend, the car
went off the road, down an incline and rolled over on its top. Luckily we were not going fast. I
remember being upside down with my hands in the air touching the ceiling of the car. I could
feel the top of the car crunching toward me. It stopped just in time and none of us were hurt-just
scared. When I told my parents about the accident they asked me to come home with them the
following weekend. Im glad I did because dad bought me my first car, a 1946 dark blue Ford.
They said that they did not want me to be a passenger with anyone ever again. So alls well that
ends well.
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Graduation in June of 1950 came all too quickly. Somehow I had carved out enough time
from my various social activities to complete my courses with an A average. The downside of
this was that I was Valedictorian and had to give the valedictory speech before the assembled
students and faculty at the old Baptist Church. I was very nervous about the whole deal and
spent weeks writing, rewriting and rehearsing my speech. Almost like the ancient Greek
Demosthenes, I even once practiced my speech near a rushing creek (but without the pebbles in
my mouth). My speech emphasized how well we seventeen and eighteen year old students upon
entering Hillsdale had integrated with the predominantly mature returning veterans of WW II. I
used the phrase We melded our seeming disparateness. I worked long and hard coming up
with these five words. (See Endnote 4 for the complete valedictory)




Following is my graduation photo and also a photo of me with Rosemarie and my sister, Peggy.



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Upon graduation, I received the University of Michigan Horace Rackham Graduate School
of Science scholarship for two years of graduate study in physics. The scholarship was tempting
but prompted by excellent courses in constitutional history and business law at Hillsdale College,
I decided to become a lawyer. I did not accept the scholarship to the great surprise and joy of the
alternate, and to the chagrin of my father who would now have to pay tuition, room and board.
Summer of 1950
Two events stand out in my memory of the summer of 1950. One was bad and the other
great.
After graduation at Hillsdale, I packed up (jammed in my car) all of my belongings, including
clothing, and headed for home at Tanglewood. On the way I stopped at Bledsoes Beach at Lake
James to check on the Toledo sorority girls who rented cottages every year in early June. The
checkees were a lively bunch and I managed to productively spend the early evening. When I
returned to my car, my car door was jimmied and all of my clothes were gone. The culprits were
never identified but my cashmere sweaters (wet and torn) turned up in a nearby field two weeks
later. I guess cashmere sweaters were not in style in the robbers social group.
In early June, three girls from Fort Wayne had rented a cottage near Bledsoes Beach for a
week. Pete had known them from high school days. Pete and I (attired in all new clothes of
course) dropped by one evening for him to say hello and for me to meet one of the girls whom
Pete thought I would like. He was right.
Her name was Irene, and she had just finished her last year of college as I had. We spent most
of that week with each other and for the rest of the summer either I drove to Fort Wayne or she
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drove to Lake James about once a week so that we could be with each other. We had a
wonderful time with each other. In the last week of August, just before I was heading off to law
school, we agreed to meet at Lake James and then drive together to Marshall, Michigan, to have
dinner at Shulers Restaurant, a famous restaurant since 1924. It would be a nice way to end the
summer and perhaps talk about our future.
We never made it to Shulers. When we met at Lake James, Irene told me that, before she
had met me, she had been dating since high school a man who was now in the Army. Before he
left for the service, she had promised to marry him. She said that she felt that she must honor her
commitment and that she did not trust herself to see me again. She smiled sweetly, kissed me on
the cheek, and left. I wiped the lipstick from my cheek with my handkerchief. I kept the
handkerchief with the lipstick imprint for many years.
Harvard Law School 1950-1953
I applied to only one law school, Harvard Law School. As part of my application I had to go
to Lansing, Michigan, and take a six hour test similar to the current LSAT test. I do not know
how well I did on the test but I was accepted and directed to report for the first of three years of
law school the first week of September, 1950. With some trepidation, at the age of twenty-one, I
packed my bags and headed east on US Highway 20 in my new bright red 1950 Ford convertible
(a graduation present from my parents) toward Cambridge, Massachusetts, and to the unknown.
Law school consisted of three years of concentrated studies including the core courses of
criminal law, torts, contracts, property law, domestic relations, commercial transactions, civil
law and procedure, administrative law, constitutional law, taxation and jurisprudence. The 1950-
1951 first year law class consisted of about five hundred students including for the first time
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twelve women. Classes were held six days a week. Classes were divided into four sections of
125 students. Each section attended class together in 150 seat stadium type classrooms. This
was a new experience for me as I had twelve students in each class at Cincinnati Country Day
School and usually twenty at Hillsdale College. The courses were very challenging and the
instructors demanding. We were even given course books to study over the summer break and
we were tested the first day back at school in September.
Each course lasted a school year and examinations were given in each course in early June.
There was only one four hour examination each year and no other tests, quizzes or written
assignments were given. You sank or swam depending on this one examination. As you can
imagine, the pressure was intense as the students prepared for exams. There was an old story
going around that a freshman should look carefully at the persons sitting on his/her left and right
in class because next year one of you will not be here.
Examination grading was based on a possible one hundred maximum points. Seventy-five
points or better was an A, seventy to seventy-four points was a B, sixty-five to sixty-nine points
was a C, sixty to sixty-four points was a D, and below was an F. The highest average in my
graduating class was seventy-seven! I came in at a resounding seventy-one point three GPA
(low B).
Evidence was my hardest class partly because the subject was very difficult with many
admissibility of evidence rules to which there were many exceptions. But what sunk me on the
evidence final exam was the method by which the exam questions were phrased. The professor
was very clever in posing the questions and I just could not figure out what some of the questions
were. Since I did not understand the questions, how could I answer them? I received my lowest
grade, sixty-five. I had a question on a Spanish examination at Hillsdale which was just like the
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evidence questions, and which I could not figure out and answer. The question was: What item
of clothing is a man wearing if he is wearing Eso Si Que Es? The answer, if you pronounce the
Spanish correctly, is SOCKS.
There was little time for social life in law school. I did join the Harvard Law School Forum
which presented renowned speakers once a month. My main function was to tend bar during the
receptions after the presentations. Thus I was able to meet many famous writers, entertainers,
statesmen and even a cartoonist (Al Capp of Lil Abner and Daisy Mae fame).
I also managed to squeeze in a girl friend, Hia. She lived in a suburb of Boston, and attended
a girls school adjacent to the law school. She was dark haired, slim, had very high cheekbones
and an attractive face. She was gentle and kind. I dated her during my last two years of law
school and we became quite attached to each other. However, I was not thinking of commitment
or marriage but rather the two or three years of military service ahead and starting a law practice.
Also, I was broke. Hia was my wonderful tour guide and she introduced me to such places as the
1873 Boston Lighthouse, Bunker Hill, Lexington, the bridge at Concord with imagined
Minutemen at the far hill (the shot heard round the world), Faneuil Hall in downtown Boston
(never dreaming that one day I would be a judge presiding in a courthouse that was an exact
replica), and Walden Pond. One sunny afternoon in late fall, Hia and I spread a blanket and
drank a small bottle of wine near Walden Pond amidst the woodland where Henry David
Thoreau had lived in his small cabin in 1852 and written Walden-Life in the Woods. It was a
moving experience to share, if just for a moment, Thoreaus thoughts, lake and woods.
Hia and I did not see or hear from each other until eighteen years after I was graduated. She
and her husband were traveling from Boston to Chicago to watch their daughter participate in a
triathlon and, after checking the phone book and calling, stopped by to visit with me and my wife
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Susanna. We had a good visit, she appeared to have married a wonderful guy and they seemed
very happy. It was sort of a closure for me for a youthful love. I was glad for her-she deserved a
good marriage and children. Susanna was very nice about the whole visit, gracious as always,
but I suspect not completely thrilled by a visit from an old girlfriend.

This is a photo of Hia and me relaxing after a hard day of law classes at Harvard Law School.


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In May of my last year at Harvard Law I applied for a direct commission as First Lieutenant
in the newly established contract procurement department of the Air Force located at Wright
Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio. Two other classmates and I were asked to come to the
Pentagon for interviews with the Secretary of the Air Force. We arrived by air the evening
before and I will always remember circling over Washington and seeing the lights of the
beautiful buildings and monuments of Washington.
The Pentagon and Secretarys chambers were very impressive-especially to a small town boy.
During the interview the Secretary asked us what our class standings were. The first to respond
was a classmate who was the president of the Harvard Law Review (like President Barack
Obama) who stated that he was first in our class. Next my other classmate stated that he was
third in our class. The Secretary turned to me and asked, Mr. Berger, what was your standing?
With some trepidation I answered that I was one thirty-sixth! I felt somewhat embarrassed.
We all were accepted into the program (I was swept in on my classmates coattails). I was
excited and looked forward to three years serving my country during the Korean War in Ohio.
I received a brief note from the Air Force in July that the program had been abandoned
(together with my commission).
Determined to be an officer, I then applied to the United States Coast Guard. I had always
enjoyed boats and the water. They sent me to Cleveland for a physical and four hour written
examination. I was accepted and ordered to appear on December 1, 1953, at the Coast Guard
Academy in New London, Connecticut, to be sworn in as an Ensign to begin my training. There
was one condition-I had to be released from my draft board in Cincinnati (Laura Wingerberg,
Clerk). I am glad that I did not waste money on purchasing several Coast Guard uniforms.
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After three years of rigorous study and having successfully passed my final examinations, I
was graduated from Harvard Law School with a Doctor of Jurisprudence (JD) degree in June of
1953. Actually I did not receive a JD degree but rather an LLB (Bachelor of Laws) degree. In
1953 Harvard followed a long tradition of only awarding a bachelors degree even though the
LLB degree required three years of study after a previous bachelors degree. Harvard in 1969
decided to grant the JD degree instead of the LLB degree and it was made retroactive. I was
reminded of this recently when going through some old files and found a mailing tube
postmarked 1969. Inside was my spanking new diploma in Latin stating that Johannem
Robertum Berger was awarded the Juris Doctor Degree.
Even though the new diploma was sent to me in 1969, the mailing tube has on it three 20 cent
1967 stamps with the picture of George C. Marshall and the words George C. Marshall-
Statesman-Soldier. Marshall as Secretary of State (1947-1949) was the author and implemented
the very successful Marshall Plan (1948-1952) to rebuild Europes economy after WWII.
Germany even issued a stamp in his honor in 1960.
My formal studies were over. I would return to Angola and prepare for the Indiana Bar
Examination and Korea?



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CHAPTER FIVE
After School 1953-1955

After graduation from law school I had to complete the requirements to practice law and
fulfill my military obligations to my country. I had been deferred from the draft and it was time
to pay the piper.
Admission to the Bar
During July of 1953, I took a five day bar review course in Indianapolis and in August took
the two day Indiana bar examination. After an anxious wait, I received word that I had passed
the examination. In November I was admitted before the Indiana Supreme Court and Federal
District Court to the Indiana and Federal bar. I could now hang out my shingle-but when and
where?

The requirements to practice law in Indiana have an interesting history. Most lawyers after
the Revolution had a difficult time being allowed to practice law. The people rejected them as
being instruments of and supporters of the English common law, and of not being loyal
supporters of the Revolution. Most had been Tories. All things thought to be English were
rejected. As a result, most states passed laws denying the right to practice law unless loyalty was
proven. New York State passed a typical law which required a jury to find that an applicant to
practice law had been a good and zealous friend to the American cause before being licensed.
By 1850 the prejudice against lawyers had diminished. However, the Jacksonian theory of
the egalitarian rights of the common man was becoming preeminent and it was thought that
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every man had a natural right to practice any lawful calling he chose. As a result of this
philosophy, most states passed statutes or had constitutional provisions that did not require a
license or any other particular requirements or qualifications to practice law except being of good
moral character. One early Indiana statute added an additional requirement-the applicant had to
take an oath that he had not participated in any part of a dual since January 1, 1819. The Indiana
Constitution of 1851 in Article VII, Sec. 21, stated, Every person of good moral character,
being a voter, shall be entitled to admission to practice law in all courts of justice. Therefore,
basically the only requirements to practice law were to be a voter of good moral character,
which, as one whit put it, was the one qualification most practitioners plainly lacked. However,
egalitarianism only went so far in 1851. The same 1851 Constitution denied women and
Negroes the right to vote. Since women could not vote until 1921 and Negroes not until 1881,
were they entitled to practice law before then? As to Negroes, no. However as early as 1893, a
courageous white lady named Antoinette Dakin Leach applied to the Greene Circuit Court for
admission to the bar. The circuit court judge found that she was a citizen of Indiana, over the
age of twenty-one, of good moral character, and possessed sufficient knowledge of the law to
qualify her to practice. However, the circuit judge denied admission as she was not a voter as the
Indiana Constitution required. On appeal, the Indiana Supreme Court determined that the
Constitution did indeed secure the right of a voter to be admitted to practice, but it did not
affirmatively state that others (non voters) could not also have this right. Therefore, the Court
ruled Antoinette should be admitted to the practice of law.
I wonder if the justices in arriving at their decision had received advice from their wives
similar to that given by Abigail Adams to her husband John in 1776 when he was on his way to
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the Constitutional Convention to remember the ladies and be more generous and favorable to
them than your ancestors when fashioning laws for the new nation.
Sixty-three years later when I first started to practice law in 1956, there was only one woman
attorney admitted to practice law in northeast Indiana. Now about half of law school students are
women.
Pursuant to this 1851 Constitutional provision, attorneys were usually admitted to the bar by
the local Circuit Court judge. There was no requirement of any law school, other formal
education, law studies or experience. Many obtained their legal training by reading law in the
law office of an established attorney. They were basically self taught. It was not until 1932 that
the Indiana Constitution was amended to repeal the provision that any voter of good moral
character could practice law.
After 1932, Indiana by statute or Supreme Court Rule gradually set forth requirements to
practice law. Ultimately, graduation from an accredited law school and successful completion of
the bar examination would be required. These laws and rules allowed all those persons who
were currently admitted to the bar to continue to practice under grandfather clauses. They
became known as Constitutional lawyers.
Private Berger
The when I could practice law question was answered by a Greetings letter from Ms.
Wingerberg, Clerk of my Cincinnati draft board, which informed me that I should report for
induction into the United States Army on December 14, 1953. Although an armistice had been
signed at Panmunjom on July 27, 1953 which was supposed to end the fighting in Korea, the war
could have started up again at any time and the Army needed a constant stream of new recruits to
be prepared. The armistice still stands. However, because South Korea never has agreed to the
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armistice, South Korea and North Korea are still technically at war and the armistice commission
still meets periodically at Panmunjom.
The Korean War was the forgotten war and I and most civilians went about our lives
oblivious to the fact that thousands of American young men were giving their lives for our
country. It was not even called a war. It was called a conflict. I had a good friend in college
who had remained in the Army reserve after active service in WW II. He was just completing
his senior year at college when he received notice in May, 1950, to report for active duty in three
days. He was killed six months later in North Korea just south of the Yalu River by soldiers of
the invading Fifteenth Chinese Field Army. He was twenty-four. He was one of the thirty-three
thousand six hundred and eighty-six soldiers who gave their lives to stop the spread of
communism.
On a dark and wet December 14, 1953, morning at 5 a.m., I boarded a bus in Angola with ten
other draftees, all from local farm families, destination Indianapolis. Upon arrival we, together
with forty other draftees, were told to strip and get in line to be examined by a doctor. The
doctors determined that we were all physically fit even though I kept reminding the doctors that I
had rheumatic fever as a child.
We then were told to stand in a straight line facing an Army Lieutenant and to raise our right
hands. We did so and took our oath to protect and defend. We were told to take one step
forward and I, at the age of twenty-four, officially became a part of the United States Army. I
was a Private, the very lowest classification for a soldier. The next step up if I were lucky would
be to Private First Class.
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I was issued my official identification dog tags which had impressed thereon John R.
Berger US 55448329 Blood: A Religion: C. The US in my serial number differentiated me
from those who had voluntarily enlisted. The enlistees were RA and considered to be a
different breed.
It is hard to describe my emotions upon taking the oath and being a member of the Army. I
do remember being very proud to serve my country and to begin such service as a private equally
with my fellow draftees from all walks of life. I was always very proud to wear my Army
uniform even though during the Korean Conflict some civilians looked down upon me as a
serviceman.
After being sworn in, we boarded a bus for Fort Leonard Wood, an older camp in the Ozarks
of Missouri, not far from Rollo. The camp was named for General Leonard Wood who served
our country honorably in many important capacities including, on July 1, 1898, leading a brigade
to victory at San Juan Heights (with his friend Teddy). The camp had the typical Army barracks,
each with a front non commissioned officers quarters, double bunks in a long row on each side,
and a community bathroom with sinks, a shower area with multiple shower heads, and a long
row of toilets. There were no partitions in the bathroom. Imagine sitting on a toilet side by side
with twelve other soldiers and relaxing.
The barracks were heated by large pot bellied stoves fueled by the soft coal mined in the area.
The smoke had a distinctive smell and seemed to always float over the camp. For many years
after my military service, if I would get a whiff of soft coal smoke, it would instantly bring back
to me a memory of the fright and apprehension that I constantly had during my weeks at Fort
Leonard Wood.
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On my arrival at Fort Leonard Wood at one a.m. dressed in a gray tweed suit and striped tie, I
was told to report immediately to the mess hall for KP duty. My first military duties consisted of
mopping the floors and washing dishes, pots and pans until three p.m. I had been up since three
a.m. the previous day. I then reported to my assigned barracks and was issued bedding, a trunk
to be placed at the foot of my bunk, an M1 rifle, and basic toiletries which included a blade razor
(I had only used an electric shaver before).
My only experience with a rifle was as an eight year old. I had a Red Ryder BB gun and shot
a starling. The bird tumbled to the ground and flopped around. Apparently I had broken his
wing. Immediately I felt terrible and tried to nurse him back to good health. With my gentle
care he lasted three days. I buried him with a headstone marked Sam. This was the last and
only time that I shot a rifle without cause.
Exhausted and dirty, in my gray tweed suit, my service to my country began. I was issued a
uniform three days later.
Among the new recruits arriving at Fort Leonard Wood were twenty young men from
Chicago. They were a tough looking lot and were reluctant to follow the strict rules and
discipline being imposed by our supervising Corporal Roginski. Two mornings later Corporal
Roginski was found dead in a nearby ditch behind our barracks. He had multiple deep knife
wounds. The perpetrator(s) were never found but I had my suspicions.
Basic training at Fort Leonard Wood consisted of eight weeks of general training and another
eight weeks of specialized training. The first eight weeks consisted mostly in teaching me how
to kill the enemy (at that time the enemy was North Korean or Chinese, all yellow skinned) with
my rifle, machine gun, bayonet or bazooka. Great care was taken to instruct me as to the best
place to insert my bayonet. There was very little sleep allowed and I was always exhausted. We
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were always marching somewhere in the mountains with rifle and one hundred pound (it
seemed) knapsack. The ranges were always many miles from base. In between marches, if we
were not in the kitchen, we attended classes to learn, among other things, map reading, how to
strip and clean our rifle, night fighting, and the horrors of gonorrhea and syphilis (with graphic
movie). There were many overnight trips with pup tent and K rations. The trainers did their job.
It is hard to imagine now, but it took only eight weeks to change me from a basically nave,
gentle and caring young man into a hardened soldier capable of and willing to kill.
Eleven days after arriving at Fort Leonard Wood, it was Christmas Day and all recruits were
allowed a three day pass to go home. I boarded a bus at ten p.m. on Christmas eve bound for
Fort Wayne, Indiana, which was only forty miles south of home. I arrived at the Greyhound
station at seven a.m. Christmas morning in my ill fitting Army uniform and waited for a bus to
Angola. I must have looked tired, lonely and forlorn at the station as a lady of the night
approached me and offered to take me someplace where I could have rest and relaxation for a
very reasonable sum. I respectfully declined. Maybe later but not when Baby Jesus had just
been born.
My parents did not know that I was coming home to Tanglewood for Christmas. There was
great joy and some tears all around. My sister Peggy was there to greet me. She just about fell
apart when she saw me in my shaggy uniform. We had recently been through a lot together. She
had been with my parents since July when she came home seven months pregnant when her
husband left her. That summer Peggy and I had shared an apartment attached to our garage. It
was almost like being an expectant father. I was with her when her darling Melissa was born in
Elmhurst Hospital in Angola on September 12, 1953. (See Endnote 5)
After three days spent mostly sleeping, I very reluctantly returned to the Ozarks.
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In the fourth week of basic training I was called in from the machine gun range for an
interview pursuant to my previous application to the Army Judge Advocates Office (the law
branch of the Army). In my dirty uniform and with four hours sleep I was grilled on the
intricacies of law by a panel of one Captain and two First Lieutenants. I distinctly remember one
question. I was asked to explain in detail the hearsay rule and as many of the exceptions
thereto as I could recall (there are thirty). This is probably one of the most difficult legal
principals. The hearsay rule is an evidentiary trial rule on the admissibility of certain
testimony. The rule can be simply stated as, A witness can not testify as to what he heard
another person say in order to prove the truth of the facts stated by such person. Somehow I
stumbled through the interview.
I did not hear anything concerning my application until about twenty-two months later when I
was called in before my commanding officer. He explained to me that I had passed the
examination and had been recommended for acceptance into the Judge Advocates Office.
However, the examining board had been improperly constituted. The board should have had two
Captains instead of the one at the board examination. Therefore I would have to be examined
again. He assured me that I would undoubtedly pass the next examination and be appointed a
First Lieutenant. I would have to serve three more years of active duty in the Army. Since I was
due to be discharged in two months, I respectfully withdrew my application.
Four weeks into basic we were given another three day pass. A friend of mine from Angola
who had ended up in my barracks and I headed to Rolla located on U.S. Route 66 not far from
camp. It was the largest town around, population twelve thousand, that had a hotel, such as it
was. The notable thing about the hotel was that it had wonderful deep bathtubs. All I did that
weekend was take a long soak in hot water to try and shake the constant cold of the Ozarks in
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winter, sleep, and maybe find a good hot meal. Life had come down to basics-no entertainment,
no great thoughts, no plans for the future. All I was trying to do was survive.
At the end of the first eight weeks of basic, we were all given a two week leave. Before I left
on leave I was assigned to return the Fort Leonard Wood for advance training as a Field
Engineer. The field engineers build bridges in advance of the foot soldiers-not a great vocation.
The Army decided on this specialty for me maybe because of my college degree in physics but
more likely because they had a field engineer roster to fill out. I was not going to design bridges,
just build them. My law degree did not factor in the assignment as we were not suing the enemy.
I spent my leave with my parents at Crystal River, Florida. They had stopped off at Crystal
River on their way to southern Florida. They became so captivated with the sleepy fishing river
town and the quiet charm of the central west coast of Florida that they stayed at Crystal River for
two months at the same small family motel nestled at the headwaters of Crystal River. They
never made it to southern Florida.
I fell in love with Crystal River. It was a life saver for me as I felt deeply the toxic effects of
basic training. I did not want ever to be the person I was turning into. The two weeks of balmy
winter air, the soothing quiet evenings with nightingales singing, the bubbling springs of Crystal
River attended by friendly manatee, the fishing for redfish among the gulf front mangrove
islands with my faithful and wise guide R.J., all clasped in the tender love of my parents, became
my deliverance. I became whole again and could face the future.

Following is a photo of my friend and guide, R.J. and of me with a huge redfish that I caught at
the mangrove islands at the outlet of Crystal River.
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Upon my return to Fort Leonard Wood I learned that I would not become a field engineer, but
rather I should report immediately to Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, for sixteen weeks of school to
be trained as a field radio repairman (MOS 1063). Fort Monmouth was near the north Jersey
Atlantic coast and Asbury Park, a sort of northern Atlantic City. I happily reported for duty and
began my sixteen week electronics course. At last my physics training would be utilized. I was
not too sure about the field part of field radio repairman. Did field mean fighting field?
Days at Fort Monmouth consisted of reveille at six a.m., classes five days a week, muster and
parade practice in the evenings, lights out at ten, parades every Saturday morning, and weekends
off unless I drew CQ (Charge of Quarters) which required me to stay awake all night in the
barracks office as a clerk/night watchman. Saturday after the parade we would usually go to
Asbury Park with its midway, merry-go-round with brass ring and music, boardwalk and beach.
After completion of my sixteen week course, I was promoted to Private First Class ($48.00
per month pay up from $36.00) and retained at Fort Monmouth as an instructor for the sixteenth
week of Field Radio Repair. I was the only instructor who was in the military. All others were
government service employees. I was promoted to Specialist Third Class (equivalent to a
Corporal) after I had taught for a year. I would remain at Fort Monmouth for the remainder of
my active service in the Army. I am very thankful that, because of the armistice, I was not sent
to the front lines of Korea.
After an accelerated one week course for instructors, I began teaching the sixteenth week of
Field Radio Repair. It covered the largest transmitter that the Army had for field operations.
The transmitter was about three feet wide and deep, and five feet high. It was of course a
vacuum tube, large ceramic resistor and capacitor system with many heavy wires. Transistors
had not been invented yet and miniaturization was in the future. The last tube was a large
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vacuum power tube that looked like a seven inch diameter light bulb. However it was a triode
with a cathode emitting electrons, a grid controlling the movement of the electrons, and a plate
which collected the electrons. My students had to learn to read the schematics, identify all
components and their function, trouble shoot to find any faulty component, and repair to
operating condition. The final test was to identify and repair a faulty component which I had
previously bugged. Several of my classes included officers from Iraq. I wonder if any of my
teaching filtered down to roadside bombs.
On my first leave after arriving at Fort Monmouth I went home and drove back my bright red
1950 Ford convertible. I licensed the car in New Jersey. It was great to have a car to go to
Asbury Park and once in a while drive to Hartford, Connecticut, to visit my brother George,
Deeda and their son Jeff. I did have one bad experience with my car. One afternoon I was called
in before my superior officer to account for my behavior the previous Saturday. He said that a
police officer from Eatontown, an adjoining village, had an arrest warrant that he wanted to serve
upon me for two serious misdemeanor traffic violations. I had supposedly driven my car in a
reckless manner through a police fire barricade in Eatontown, hit a fire truck, nearly creamed a
fireman, and driven away. I was in big trouble. However, as I explained to my superior officer,
I was on CQ duty all day that Saturday, I had not left the post, my car had not been driven, and it
was not dinged in. Luckily my sergeant verified my story and I escaped disaster. A fireman at
the scene had written down what he thought was the license plate number of the fleeing car-my
plate number. The fireman later acknowledged that he may have made a mistake especially
since the car he had seen was dark blue.
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I enjoyed the teaching very much but not the extracurricular regular Army activities. Twenty-
five years later I would again become a teacher using some of the same teaching techniques (eye
contact with students, etc.) learned at Fort Monmouth.
After serving two years of active service in the Army, at the age of twenty-five, I was released
from active service and came home to Tanglewood just before Christmas of 1955. I was
required to be in the Ready Army Reserve for six additional years during which period I was
subject to active duty call up upon 24 hour notice. I received an Honorable Discharge from the
Army in December, 1961. I am very proud to have served my country.
One of the most important lessons I learned from my experience in the Army was that I
should appreciate how really blessed I am now. In the Army my life was completely controlled
by others-where I should go, what I should do (including kill the enemy), what I could eat, when
I could sleep. I am thankful for the simple things which are so important-basics such as food,
clothing, warmth, shelter and yes, fresh fruit. I am thankful for my freedom of action and
thought. I am thankful for every day that God grants me with health, family and friends. I am
thankful for a quiet sunset.




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CHAPTER SIX
The Middle Years 1956-1971

I returned to Jimmerson Lake and Tanglewood in December of 1955. My schooling and
military service days were over. What would lie ahead-a successful law practice, a wife and
children, a home of my own, new friends, some good times and bad times?
Law Practice
I decided to start my law career in the small community of Angola, the Steuben County seat,
rather than in a metropolitan area. I have never regretted this decision.
In January of 1956, at the age of twenty-six, I joined two local attorneys, Donald Trennepohl,
a graduate of Indiana University Law School, and Wilson Shoup, a graduate of Georgetown
University Law School, to form the legal partnership of Trennepohl, Berger & Shoup (we flipped
a coin to determine the name sequence). The partnership continued for 15 years until I was
elected judge of the Steuben Circuit Court.
Because of budgetary restraints, our first law office had only three small rented rooms near
the courthouse. One was the reception and secretarys room, and the other two were shared by
the three of us. I bought two used desks, chairs, and old file cabinets and placed them in one
room which I shared with Wilson. We tried to schedule our few clients so that they were not all
in our room at the same time. Our shared secretary was the wife of a Tri-State College student
and we paid her one dollar an hour for thirty-five hours a week.
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My very first client was a young lady from a farm family who wanted to file for divorce. I
prepared for many hours for the first session (including a four page outline of the law and a list
of questions that I would ask) so that I would appear very learned and not let on that it was my
first case. In spite of the preparation I was still nervous. My client came into my office with her
mother who was carrying a sleeping infant in a pink gown. They both sat right in front of my
desk. About five minutes into the visit, the infant suddenly awakened and began to cry. I tried
not to let the noise distract me from my very professional questioning. To show my knowledge
of pink vs. blue clothing I asked my client how old her baby was and what was her name. My
client said that she had no children. About then the mother hastily whipped open her blouse and
began nursing the ravenous baby about two feet from me. I went into a state of total shock. I
had seen a breast before (Inger Sather in the bath tub and a few others in the dark or under a
blanket) but a nursing mother (let alone an old one-maybe forty) was new to me. I tried valiantly
to continue the consultation like nothing unusual was happening even though I knew my face
was getting red. The good news was that there would not be a custody battle over children in the
divorce proceedings.

I remember clearly my first civil and criminal cases. Both were before the Steuben Circuit
Court judge, the Honorable Harris Hubbard. Both cases made clear to me the difficulties I would
have trying to establish a law practice in the Steuben County legal environment.
In my first civil case I represented a foreign (Chicago) supplier of minnows who had sold the
minnows to a local (a Steuben County voter) bait store. The bait store refused to pay for the
minnows claiming that the minnows had died of some mysterious disease about one week after
delivery. I obtained an expert in minnow diseases who testified that the minnows were not
diseased when delivered but were contaminated by the condition of the bait store minnow tanks.
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There was no other evidence as to the cause of the disease. At the conclusion of the evidence,
Judge Hubbard announced his decision (the case was heard by the court rather than by a jury).
He stated that the evidence clearly showed that the minnows were in perfect condition when they
were delivered. I was in seventh heaven. I was about to win my first case and could represent to
prospective clients that I had never lost a case. The judge then said, However. I knew that
these words were the death knell. The judge then stated that since the delivery of the minnows
had been on a Sunday, the sales contract was void and the bait store therefore did not have to pay
for the minnows. The judges decision was erroneous, of course, as Indiana law has never
declared Sunday contracts void. To appeal the decision to the Indiana Appellate Court would
have cost about twenty times the value of the minnows! Case closed. The attorney for the bait
store, the judges brother Kenny Hubbard, had won another one.
In my first criminal case, I was appointed as pauper counsel for the defendant by Judge
Hubbard. There were about eight other eligible attorneys but Judge Hubbard obviously thought
that this case was just right for me as a young attorney trying to establish a law practice. As a
new attorney I could hardly refuse such an appointment. The defendant, a recent resident of Mt.
Clemens Michigan, who was just passing through Angola, was accused of kidnapping the
daughter of a prominent Angola businessman on her way home from grade school. Thankfully,
she was found alive a day later about fifty miles away. She identified the defendant as the person
who had kidnapped her. By representing such a person this certainly was an excellent chance for
me to become well thought of and accepted by the Angola community.
Having taken my oath as an attorney to faithfully represent a client, and being young and
nave, I earnestly began my representation. I immediately requested a change of judge which by
law had to be granted. This further endeared me to Judge Hubbard.
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My client stated that he had an iron clad alibi. He told me that at the time of the abduction he
was living in Mt. Clemens and had in fact at that time been at the St. Francis Cemetery in Mt.
Clemens placing flowers on the grave of his mother. He remembered that when visiting his
mothers grave that twin two day old boys were being interred.
I took off for Mt. Clemens, about 100 miles to the northeast and just north of Detroit, in my
parents 1952 Buick Road Master station wagon. The trip was uneventful except for the fact that
since the Buick weighed about a ton and the brakes were woefully underpowered, it was very
difficult to bring the car to a stop. Somehow I made it.
My first stop was at the address the defendant gave me for the place where he stayed. The
defendant was sure some other resident would remember him being there on the day of the
abduction. It was difficult to find the address. It was in what appeared to be a slum area. I was
somewhat hesitant to enter the building at the address.
My sociology professor at Hillsdale College had written a book (required purchase) about his
experiences at the Bowery in Brooklyn which he entitled Flophouse. I was now truly entering a
flophouse. The building was three stories. There was a small office on the first floor. The rest
of the building contained single rooms. There was filth and refuse everywhere. I found only
three persons. One was sitting in a stairwell and obviously drunk. He was unable to
communicate with me. I saw another person on the third floor through an open door lying naked
on a stained mattress, apparently asleep or passed out. I did not disturb him. The third was the
manager who was preparing some soup in a makeshift kitchen. He had no recollection of the
defendant. He did give me the direction to St. Francis Cemetery.
I was able to find the cemetery and the Rectory of the adjoining church. I located the Sextant
and he was able to examine the Record of Burials. He said that he remembered the twin boys
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burials. He examined the records and they showed that the burials had been one day before the
abduction in Angola. That was the end of the alibi!
Upon return to Angola I met with the prosecuting attorney to see if a plea bargain could be
agreed upon. Both of us wanted to avoid a trial in which the little girl would have to testify. I
told the defendant that I was trying to negotiate a plea bargain. The next day the defendant sent a
demand from the jail to the judge written on a paper hand towel that the judge remove me from
representing him. The defendant stated that, I had spilled my guts to the prosecutor. The
judge, to my great relief, replaced me as the attorney for the defendant. The defendant
subsequently did enter a plea of guilty pursuant to a plea agreement.
Susanna Ellen
In June of 1959 my law partner Don Trennepohl asked me to come to his house the next
Saturday night to meet a young school teacher who taught with his wife Beth at the Angola
school. Her name was Susanna Ellen (Susie) Lemley and she taught second grade. She lived at
home with her widowed mother in a cottage on Lake James. She was twenty-six, four years
younger than I. As I try to describe her that first evening I get misty eyed as I think back. She
was five feet three, very attractive, and slim with dark brown long hair tied in a bun at the back.
She had sparkly eyes the color of amber. We had a great time with the assistance of several
Heublein whisky sours. It was the beginning of a wonderful three year courtship. Susie must
have liked me as she even went bass fishing with me at night (before we necked).
About a year into our courtship, as I was driving on the county road near Tanglewood, I saw a
Siamese cat along the side of the wooded road-skinny and all scruffy. I stopped by the side of
the road, opened my door and the cat jumped into the car. This was the beginning of a twelve
year friendship. I named the cat Heathcliff after the orphan boy from the wild and stormy
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countryside of Wuthering Heights. The cats disposition was definitely wild and stormy. A
Siamese cat, according to my father, was one part human, one part dog, and one part cat. I gave
Heathcliff to Susie never expecting to get him back later when I married Susie. When Heathcliff
went to cat heaven, after an appropriate period of mourning, Susie and I were thinking of getting
another cat when, much to my surprise and amazement, I saw another Siamese cat along the
same road at almost the same spot. I brought her home and we named her Kitty. We could not
agree on a name so she was Kitty by default. She was just the opposite of Heathcliff. She was
very affectionate and gentle. It was hard to believe that she was a Siamese. She was with us for
only eight years. When she died, our children Susan and Johnny, were so heartbroken that we
immediately looked for another cat. We found a soft grey colored mixed breed cat at the humane
shelter and brought her home for Christmas. We named her Noel. She was our best Christmas
present. After about a week Noel became ill and we took her to the vets. She died two days
later. Susie and I told Susan and Johnny that her previous owners had come to claim her and that
she was now happily at home with them. They were sad but glad for Noel. Twenty-five years
later when I was relating the story of Noel to some friends, Johnny, who was listening to the
story, was taken completely by surprise. He did not know until then that Noel never left the vets.
To fill the vacancy in our hearts in loosing Kitty and Noel, we set out in our station wagon,
with kitty litter box, for the village of Haviland, Ohio, about seventy miles away, to answer an
advertisement for a Siamese cat for sale. The price was reasonable-fifteen dollars. The kitty was
about five inches long. She could easily fit in the palm of my hand. We kidded later that the
reason that she acted strangely sometimes was that she was taken away from her mother too
soon. We named her Misty for one of Susies favorite songs. She became another member of
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our family and lived with us for twenty-four years. She is buried in a simple grotto behind our
cottage at the lake.
I remember one brief moment which set the course for the rest of my life with Susie. When I
was leaving her lake cottage one evening, at the back door, she said in her gentle voice,
Goodnight dear. It was a simple statement, just two words, but the apparent love for me
shown in the way she said dear made me realize how privileged I was to have this wonderful
person care for me. It is hard for me to express my feelings but I knew from that moment on that
I would share my life with her forever. My mother told me that someday I would find the girl of
my dreams and she was right. It was like magic.
On Easter Sunday eve, 1962, Susie and I were at my parents house watching television
(Gunsmoke with Matt and Chester). My parents were away at Lancaster County, Pennsylvania,
to go antiquing. When the show was over, and just after the clock struck twelve to welcome
Easter Sunday, I presented Susie with a blue plastic Easter egg. She said, Whats this? I told
her to open it and nestled inside on a bed of green grass was an engagement ring. It was a
perfect one carat diamond solitaire with gold band. I wanted Susie to have a ring just like she
was. It was a complete surprise to her. We had not ever discussed marriage. After appropriate
hugs and kisses I took her home and a new life would begin for me. Susie told me later that
when she got home she immediately awakened her mother, showed her the ring, and they started
planning the wedding. I was thinking of a wedding sometime in the fall but the well was primed
and two and a half months later, we were married at ten a.m. on June 16, 1962, at St. Anthony
Church in Angola. Afterward we had a small reception with brunch at the Eaton Springs Trout
Club and after changing clothes and grabbing our suitcases, we left for our honeymoon. Many
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years later, after Susies mother died, when I was going through some of her mothers
belongings, I found her bible. Tucked inside in her careful handwriting was a brief prayer,
Please dear Jesus may Jack ask my dearest Susanna to marry her someday.

Following are photos of Susanna on her wedding day; of Susanna and me cutting the wedding
cake; and of Susanna, me, and my mom and dad at the reception.
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As you might guess, on our ten day honeymoon we went to Manitoulin Island with stops
along the way. Our first night out was spent at Houghton Lake, Michigan in a small log cabin
type motel. The room had rice all over the floor after I opened my suitcase thanks to brother
George. The name of the motel was Johnsons Rustic Village and I still have the receipt (Cabin
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Number 6, $11.00 per day). Then we traveled on to Saint Ignace (we stayed at real motel just
across the bridge to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan), Manistee in the Michigan Upper
Peninsula (a twelve room motel overlooking Lake Michigan), Upper Tequanimum Falls, Sault
Ste. Marie (overlooking the locks) and Little Current, Manitoulin Island. I friend of mine used to
kid me that Susie and I averaged twenty-two miles per day on our honeymoon.
Susie and I spent four days on Manitoulin Island at Little Current at a small motel on a hill
overlooking the swing bridge and downtown Little Current with its docks and sailboats. I bought
a Canadian fishing license but never could carve out the time to use it. We shopped at Turners,
had large ice cream cones at Farquhars Dairy Store, and ate dinners at the quaint Inn. We drove
slowly around the island to visit the villages of Kagawong, Mindemoya and Gore Bay. We
walked the mountain trail hand in hand to Cup and Saucer lookout. We swan in a crystal pool
below a waterfall near Manitowaning. We paused by the roadside to see unending fields of
daisies with their large white petals and yellow centers. It was a make believe time.
Susie and I returned to Tanglewood and lived in a home that I had built near my parents on
Jimmerson Lake.
In the early years of our marriage and before children, Susie and I were able to have many
wonderful times together.

We went to New York City with a stay at the St. Moritz Hotel, the view of the city from the
top of the RCA Building, the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall, Chinatown, and the chance to
see the original performances of "Stop the World-I Want to Get Off" with Anthony Newley and
Anne Quale at the Shubert Theatre with the songs "Once in a Lifetime" and "What Kind of Fool
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Am I?", and "Funny Girl", the story of comedienne Fanny Brice, at Winter Garden Theatre with
a young and newly discovered singer named Barbra Streisand singing "People".

We also went to Chicago with a stay at the Drake Hotel, dinner at a high revolving restaurant
overlooking Chicago, Navy Pier and Lake Michigan, and a late night visit to a small nightclub
where Erroll Garner was playing the piano and his song "Misty."

We had quiet Saturday afternoons listening to the Metropolitan Opera on NBC with the voice
of opera for forty-three years, Milton Cross, announcing. Our favorite operas were all composed
by Giacomo Puccini: La Boheme, Madama Butterfly and Turandot.

Three Cheers for Valium
I had always brought a certain amount of pressure upon myself to do well in my studies
and athletic activities. I handled this pressure and life in general until about two years after my
marriage. By then I had endured the competition at Harvard Law, had served in the Army with
constant fear of the unknown with no control by me over my life, had tried to establish a law
practice, and had undertaken the responsibilities of marriage. I was happy, very satisfied with
life, and thought that I was emotionally stable. And then, wham, it happened almost overnight. I
had not seen it coming. I had reached, as I learned later, my mental stress threshold beyond
which I could not handle the pressures of my life. I had trouble sleeping. I felt exhausted. My
face and the top of my hands developed a warm and stinging sensation. I had no interest in
anything. I was terrified. At the urging of my wife, I asked for help from an internist, Dr.
Shaffer, in nearby Ann Arbor, Michigan, who had treated my dad in the past. Dr. Shaffer put me
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in Foot Hospital in Ann Arbor for four days for multiple tests, examinations and evaluation. No
cause for my condition was found except for mental exhaustion. Finding no other cause was a
great relief to me and was the first step in my recovery. Dr. Shaffer assured me that my
condition was treatable and that, with appropriate awareness and caution (and medication), I
would soon feel great again and I did. He explained that every person has a personal stress
pressure-anxiety threshold which should not be exceeded. I had to recognize mine and take care
in my life, as much as possible, to not exceed my threshold. Easier said than done, but I have for
the most part succeeded.
A large part of my recovery was facilitated by a new drug, Valium (now called Diazepam),
which had been released just the year before (1963). It was a better version of previously
released Librium and was generally known as a tranquilizer. It was advertised to reduce
anxiety, fear, tension, agitation, and related states of mental disturbance. The developer,
Hoffmann-La Roche, must have had me in mind. Dr. Shaffer prescribed a low dosage of Valium
for me and it was the crutch that I needed to allow me time to accept that I had a threshold, and
to recognize when I needed to back off. I initially took Valium for two years-gradually
lessoning the dosage. In later years, I occasionally took Valium for brief periods when I felt
some of my old symptoms returning-especially the warm feelings on my face and hands.
My experience with my mental depression has made me realize how devastating mental
disturbances can be and that a person with such a condition should be understood and treated just
like a person with a physical condition.



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Susan and Johnny
Susie and I had always wanted to have children. I had asked Dr. Shaffer if having children
would be more than my threshold could bear, and he said the benefits far outweighed the risks
and I should roll the dice. He was right.
Our version of "family planning" consisted of no planning and we had expected good news
momentarily. But alas, after several years and no bundle of joy on the horizon, it was time to get
serious if we wanted to explore the mysteries of parenthood. We signed up with a Fort Wayne
specialist who was reported to know about how to fix such things. But before a diagnosis, we
had to undergo some testing. Susie's was very painful. Her Fallopian tubes had to be checked to
see if there was an obstruction-a procedure which called for the insertion under high pressure of
air into the tubes. My testing was frantic but not unpleasant. It consisted of obtaining at home in
Angola (I will not describe how) a sample of my semen and transporting it to a laboratory in Fort
Wayne forty-five miles distant by way of a twisting old two lane highway which passed through
three small towns (this was before the interstates). The sample had to arrive at the laboratory no
later than one and a half hours after it was produced or there was danger that many sperms would
be DOA. What a wild trip this was. Thankfully I was not stopped for speeding and I arrived on
time with several million (?) sperms alive and well for counting. Susie would later tease me
about my trip, especially since my semen receptacle was an old Smucker's jelly jar that said
"GRADE A FANCY."
We both passed our tests, and with the grace of God we later were blessed with two children,
Susan Elizabeth (1966) and John (Johnny) Christopher (1969).

Following are photos of Susan and John when in high school-the 1980s.
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When Susan started first grade Susie and I built a home in Angola to be nearer school and the
school activities. We later remodeled Susies parents cottage on Lake James where I still live.
My daughter, Susan, is not married and lives at the lake with me. Susan is a graduate of Ball
State University with a degree in Office Administration and since graduation has worked at
Potawatomi Inn on Lake James. John was graduated from Hillsdale College (he was a Delt like I
was) with a degree in Education, majoring in science, and teaches physics, chemistry and
biology at the Angola High School. John is just starting his fifth year as the Angola High School
Girls Basketball head coach.
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John was married in August of 2011 to a wonderful woman, Valerie, and I now have a second
daughter and three teenage grandchildren-all boys! John, Valerie and the boys, Warren, Clay
and Eli, live at nearby Auburn, Indiana.
Even though my hair has been grey for a long time, it is not because of our children. We
never had any problems with drinking, drugs, or pregnancies-just minor things. Neither ever
smoked (marihuana or otherwise). Susan did have a habit of scraping her Mustang II against
other cars but that was about all of the trouble she got into. John was another story. I had a habit
of putting things off hoping that they would go away (they never did). Susie said that I should
face reality and quit living in an enchanted cottage. Susie said that since I was the head of the
household I must go to school before classes and talk to Johnnys seventh grade football coach
about the helmet he is forcing Johnny to wear that is too small and hurts his head or I must talk
to the high school principal because they took Johnnys parking space away from him which he
had signed up for last year or I must take Johnny back to seventh grade track practice which he
quit and make him rejoin the team (he did rejoin the team, was a track star in high school and
college, and held the four hundred meter Angola High School record for twenty-three years) or
I must talk to the Angola Police Chief who had just called about Johnny or I must talk to
Johnny about Missy. She is much too old and mature for him and it can only lead to big
trouble.
Susie did undertake to assume some responsibility and that was in the area of sex education
for Susan. When Susan was in the sixth grade our school board, after heated discussions,
decided four to three to require all sixth grade students to have a two hour session (together with
a graphic slide presentation of the male and female reproductive organs and sperm valiantly
seeking their goal like Alaskan salmon in a Kenai stream) to inform the maturing students
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concerning the intricacies of reproduction. Mrs. Belair, a retired second grade teacher, was
selected to give the session because of her known expertise in this area. Susie and Susan
attended one of the first sessions. After the session, upon returning to our home, Susie sat down
quietly with Susan and asked lovingly if she had any questions. Susan replied, Mom, I didnt
understand anything.
Susie taught school until Susan was born and then she returned to teaching when John was a
junior in high school and Susan was at Ball State University. As a teacher Susie could not
smoke in public (we both smoked but we quit cold turkey the second year of our marriage) and
could not be seen at any place that served alcohol. Now teachers are allowed to drink and smoke
in public and cohabitation with the opposite sex or whatever is not frowned upon. It is
interesting to compare the present attitude toward teacher conduct to the 1915 Angola Rules For
Teachers which I recently uncovered. Among the many rules were:
Women teachers who marry or engage in unseemly conduct will be dismissed immediately.
You are not to keep company with men in public.
You may not loiter downtown in any ice cream parlor.
You may under no circumstances dye your hair, dress in bright colors or smoke cigarettes.
Your dresses may not be any shorter than two inches above the ankles and you must wear at least
two petticoats.
Susie taught until her retirement at age sixty-two. Her students loved her-she was a mother to
all.


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The 1960s
The 1960s for me encompassed my continuing law practice, marriage, battle with nerves,
and the birth of my children. My personal experiences were set against a background of
momentous and sometimes tragic occurrences which deeply concerned the nation and me.
Following is a brief listing of some of these events which profoundly influenced our nation.
Do you remember?
1960: Segregated Whites only Lunch counter Sit-In by four black students at Woolworths in
Greensboro, North Carolina
1961: Berlin Wall built separating East and West Germany
Disastrous Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba by Cuban exiles which was orchestrated by the
CIA
First manned suborbital rocket flight by Alan B. Shepard. Our rocket program basically
began at Cape Canaveral, Florida, with the test firing of an unmanned modified German V-2
rocket (Bumper # 7 from Launch Pad 3 which is still preserved) on July 24, 1950. Bumper #7
misfired at the launch pad but Bumper #8 on July 29 successfully launched and traveled 150
miles downrange over the Atlantic. These were the precursors of the Alan Shepard and Neil
Armstrong flights. From 1950 to 1961 there were many other test rocket launches from
Canaveral. Some were successful and some blew up over the cape and the Atlantic. The first
testing grounds at Cape Canaveral were very near a small resort village called Cocoa Beach and
when there was a rumor of a prospective secret launching, most citizens and the few vacationers
would assemble near the jetty just across from the testing grounds to possibly see a launch.
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There was great excitement. If there was a launch, the entire launch site would seem to explode
with blinding light and a thunderous noise. The ground shook like a strong earthquake. Away
the rocket would go, hopefully downrange, and the assembled group would cheer and applaud.
This is exactly what happened as I was privileged to watch many of the early launchings. My
parents for many years during this period rented a small villa on the beach at Cocoa Beach
during the winter months, and I often would be with them during these formative rocket years. I
still feel the awe and wonder of these early marvelous events and am thankful to have witnessed
the beginnings of our flight to the moon.
1962: Cuban Missile Crisis almost precipitates nuclear war with Russia
Peter Paul and Mary release the folk song Where have all the flowers gone. The sad,
lovely lyrics, and lilting melody, present a haunting commentary on war. I have just played
again an old 33 record of this song and it brought tears to my eyes. The beautiful rondo begins
by asking the title, Where have all the flowers gone, then answering: young girls picked them
everyone, then the young girls are gone for husbands every one, then the husbands are gone for
soldiers every one, then the soldiers are gone to graveyards every one, then the graveyards are
gone to flowers every one, then the flowers are picked again by young girls every one. After
each refrain, the question is posed-when will they ever learn, when will they ever learn. I have
been a part of, witnessed or been affected by World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War,
the Gulf War, the Iraq War and the Afghanistan War. When will they ever learn?
Silent Spring by Rachel Carlson is published. This book is credited as awakening the
public to the dangers of the indiscriminate use of pesticides to life. There was fierce opposition
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to the book by the chemical companies but it brought about a change in national pesticide policy.
As a result, DDT was banned and the Environmental Protection Agency was created.
1963: John F. Kennedy assassinated
Martin Luther King makes his I have a dream speech
1964: Nelson Mandela sentenced to life in prison
1965: U.S. sends troops to Vietnam who will be augmented and remain until the fall of Saigon
to the North Vietnam Army in 1975. Total U.S. deaths and missing in action resulting from this
war against the North Vietnamese was approximately 174,079. An additional 102,202 were
injured and survived. When will they ever learn?
1966: Mass draft protests to Vietnam War. The song Where have all the flowers gone was
often featured. It had become apparent to many that this was not, as claimed by Washington, a
necessary war to prevent the spread the worldwide communism supported by China, but rather
an intervention into the internal affairs of Vietnam.
1967: Six-Day (June 5-10) War in Middle East: Decisive victory by Israel against Jordan,
Syria, and Egypt (United Arab Republic) wherein Israel took control of the Gaza Strip, Sinai
Peninsula, the West Bank including East Jerusalem, and the Golan Heights. Current policy
decisions are still influenced greatly by the result of this war.
1968: Martin Luther King assassinated
Robert Kennedy Assassinated
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My Lai Massacre of between 347-505 South Vietnamese unarmed women, children and
elders by U.S. soldiers. It was first claimed by U.S. commanders as a glorious victory against
the Vietcong after a fierce fight. After the cover up was exposed, fourteen officers were charged
and court marshaled. The defense was that they were just following orders-a defense expressly
denied at the earlier German Nazis Nuremburg trials. Of the fourteen charged, only one, Lt.
Calley, was actually convicted. He was found guilty of premeditated murder of not less that
fourteen people and sentenced to life imprisonment. The charges against the other thirteen were
either dismissed or they were found not guilty. His sentence was later commuted to three and a
half years house arrest.
1969: Neil Armstrong becomes the first man on the moon. When Apollo 11 landed the first
message was Tranquility Base here-the Eagle has landed and when Armstrong first stepped on
the moon Thats one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.






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CHAPTER SEVEN
Steuben Circuit Court 1970-1980

In 1969 our circuit court judge Roger DeBruler was appointed to fill a vacancy on the Indiana
Supreme Court which created a vacancy in our local circuit court. Any vacancy was filled by the
Indiana governor. The governors office contacted me and asked if I would accept an
appointment to the position. I had to let them know within twenty-four hours. It was a great
opportunity but came at the wrong time. I had just received a call from my mother from Cave
City, Kentucky, that, on their way driving to Florida, dad had suffered a severe respiratory
attack, was in intensive care at a nearby hospital, and may not survive. I called a friend at our
little airport who then flew me down in a small airplane to Cave City. On my first visit with dad
he could barely talk. The only thing I could understand was dad whispering to me, Take care of
your mother for me. I stayed for a week and dad miraculously recovered. He lived for another
fifteen years. When I returned, the democrat governor had appointed as our new circuit court
judge Louis Sisler, a young democrat attorney recently out of law school who had been working
for an obscure state agency.
The interim appointment as circuit judge ended on December 31, 1970, and there would be an
election for judge in the fall of 1970. I decided to throw in my hat to seek the position that had
slipped through my fingers two years before.

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The Judge
My seeking election for judge of the Steuben Circuit Court was hotly contested. Indiana
circuit court judges are elected on a partisan basis with a primary and general election.
Up until 1970, no doubt by virtue of the traditional egalitarian view, Indiana circuit judges
were not required to be lawyers and admitted to the bar. In 1970, Article VII of the 1851 Indiana
Constitution was amended to provide that all circuit court judges shall have been duly admitted
to practice law by the Supreme Court of Indiana.
I had to first run in the Republican primary against Olin Dygert, a friendly, fatherly and well
respected local Steuben County constitutional lawyer. I won the primary by 87 votes.
In the general election I ran against the incumbent democrat judge, Judge Louis Sisler.
Running against the incumbent is never an easy task. Further problems with my campaign arose
because I was perceived by some as an outsider (not having been born in Steuben County) and
because others were not sure that a Harvard graduate would be able to relate to the common man.
I ran a vigorous campaign. I sent out three thousand letters and posted signs on about every
telephone pole in Steuben County. I went to almost every farm house (sometimes a barn or
milking shed) in the county asking for votes. I went to many pot lucks and gave brief
presentations as to my many abilities. At one potluck in the basement of the R.E.M.C. an
aspiring J. Danforth Quayle, later to be Vice-President, was present and making his pitch to be
elected to Congress. His assistant at the potluck was Dan Coats, later to be a Senator and
Ambassador to Germany
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I won by a narrow margin. Both Dans went on to worldly challenges and I stayed home to
serve my community. I am reminded of one of my favorite poems, The Vision of Sir Launfal,
by James Russell Lowell:
The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illuminated being oerrun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,-
In the nice ear of Nature, which song is the best?
On January 1, 1971, in the old high ceiling county courtroom, I was sworn in as judge of the
Steuben Circuit Court by the clerk of court before a small group of friends, court personnel and
my loving wife and two small children. The elderly bailiff, Russell Jackson, and court reporter,
Iona Crain, presented me with a beautiful walnut engraved gavel which I cherish to this day.
There is a sad sidebar to my defeat of Judge Sisler which connected causally to three murders.
If Judge Sisler had been elected, none of the following would have happened.
After his loss of the judgeship, with the assistance of his father-in-law, Judge Sisler obtained a
job in Washington, D.C., as a lobbyist for the National Rifle Association. About a year after
arriving in Washington, he was confronted at his front door one evening by an armed angry
black man who stated that his sister had been raped by a middle aged white man and that the man
reportedly lived in Sislers house. An argument ensued and Judge Sisler was fatally shot.
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A police investigation followed, the man was arrested and subsequently found guilty of
Voluntary Manslaughter. The chief investigating officer was Bobby Moore. Later Bobby
Moore and Barbara Sisler, Judge Sislers widow, were married and took up residence in the
Town of Fremont in the northeast corner of Steuben County. Bobby became the Town Marshall.
About a year later, while Barbara Sisler Moore was on the phone talking with her daughter,
Barbara stated that she had to leave the phone for a minute because her husband Bobby needed
to talk to her. Her daughter overheard an apparent argument between Barbara and Bobby and
then gunshots.
When the police arrived at the Moore home they found Barbara dead. Bobby stated to police
that there had been an argument, that Barbara had threatened to kill him with a gun, and that he
fired at her in self defense. Bobby Moore was never charged with the death of his wife.
About a month after the death of Barbara Moore, on a warm July 1988 evening just before
sun down, Bobby Moore was shot in the head by a high powered rifle discharged from some
distance away. He died minutes later. Barbaras son, Sam Sisler, reportedly was an initial
suspect but no evidence was ever found to connect him to the murder. No charges were ever
filed.







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JOHN R. BERGER
Judge, Steuben Circuit Court
January 1, 1971


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The Court House
Shortly after the Civil War, in 1867-1868, Freeborn Patterson designed and built the present
brick courthouse in Angola for Steuben County.
He built it in the style of Faneuil Hall in Boston, a building famous for its role as a meeting
place for patriots during the American Revolution. The court house is distinctive for its arched
windows set in tall sunken panels, for its raking cornice carried by pairs of brackets, and for its
curved wooden staircase. The construction cost was $26,392.00.
The courthouse was built on mostly donated land at the southeast corner of the public circle
and its high cupola can be seen for many miles. The courthouse was enlarged in 1937 by adding
to the south side at a cost of about $31,000.00. The courthouse was two stories high with a rustic
basement. The first floor contained the offices of the County Clerk of Court, County Recorder,
County Assessor and County Treasurer. The basement contained retired files and the Goodale
Abstract Office.
The large circuit courtroom with a high ceiling and large arched windows, the judges
chambers, the court reporters and bailiffs offices, and the probation officers office occupied
the entire second floor. Access was by means of two large beautiful wood staircases, one on
each side of the entrance hall.
Originally there was a balcony overlooking the courtroom which was accessed by a small
rickety winding staircase. The balcony had been closed and walled off for many years and was
used as a storage area for old furniture and miscellaneous retired court files.
When I was judge there was no courthouse security as there is today. A few years ago
someone in Oklahoma who was involved in a divorce action was not completely pleased with the
judges decision and shot His Honor dead in the courtroom. Immediately every courthouse in
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the nation had to have armed security. Not to be left behind, the Steuben County Commissioners
since then have provided funds for two deputy sheriffs Monday through Friday from 7:30 a.m.
until 5 p.m. to man the courthouse door, complete with walk through and hand held wand
sensors.

A cost comparison analysis would indicate that it would be a lot cheaper to not have security
and lose a judge now and then.
I was only threatened twice. The first time was during a murder trial. The second was after I
had left the bench. Having courthouse security would not have saved me from either threat. In
the later threat, I received a call from a Michigan probation officer after he had completed an
exit interview. He had just had a conversation with a convict named Clark who was about to
be released after five years in a Michigan prison for arson. I had sentenced Clark to jail in
Indiana for arson about ten years before for burning down a cottage at Hamilton Lake. The
officer had asked the convict what he intended to do after release, expecting an answer
concerning where he would live and work. Clark replied, Well, the first thing I am going to do
is go back to Angola and burn Judge Bergers house down and I hope he is in it. I thanked the
officer for this information and wondered what I could do about it. The next day I received
information from our local police that Clark had indeed burned a house down early that morning
but that the house was in Ashley, a town about fifteen miles away.
I guess I was lucky and someone else was higher on Clarks To Do list.
On the wall of a hallway outside the court room hung a photograph of a 1918 all male jury
that had deliberated the fate of Nora Coleman, a woman accused of murdering her mother. Old
records of the case were found which included the Coroners Report and an Affidavit by the
defendants husband.
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The Coroners Report stated that the deceased had succumbed to her death from being shot in
the head. It stated the cause of death as follows: I find that the deceased came to her death as
the result of being shot in the head with gun shot charge entering just above right ear and lodging
in the skull. These were the complete findings of cause of death. It is interesting to compare
this report to the detailed many paged coroners reports of modern times. In 1918 they did not
elaborate on the obvious.
The Affidavit of the husband stated, I, Word Coleman, being duly sworn make statement as
follows:
About 4 oclock a.m., Feb 7, 1918, my wife awoke me at which time she fixed fires and
came to bed.
She said to me that I would not need to be bothered with mother any more for she had took
the gun up there and shot her.
When I asked her why she did it she said so she would not keep harrissing (sic) me.
She gave no other reason.
She was a good wife. She kept the house warm and took care of a bothersome mother-in-law.







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STEUBEN COUNTY COURTHOUSE AND CIVIL WAR
MONUMENT
Angola, Indiana
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The Circuit Court
Each of the 92 counties in Indiana is served by a Circuit Court. Originally, several counties
were served by a single judge who presided over the courts of all counties in the circuit. He
would go on circuit and thus the name circuit judge. Originally Steuben County and DeKalb
County to the south were served by one circuit judge. Then Steuben County and LaGrange
County to the west were served by one circuit judge. This was the situation until about 1950
when Steuben and LaGrange were separated and each had its own circuit court judge.
When I became judge, the court system in Steuben County consisted of the Steuben Circuit
Court and two lower courts, a Justice of the Peace Court in the Town of Fremont and an Angola
City Court, both of which had jurisdiction limited to traffic violations and small claims. Upon
request by either party, a decision of these courts could be appealed and tried de-novo in the
Steuben Circuit Court.
The circuit court had unlimited general jurisdiction of all matters and was the basic trial court
in Indiana.
There were five divisions of the circuit court consisting of criminal, civil, juvenile, domestic
relations (divorce) and probate (wills, trusts and the administration thereof). All divisions were
interchangeable and administered at the same time by the judge of the Steuben Circuit Court.
There was only one judge and I was the judge. My court personnel consisted of a Court
Reporter, Iona Crain, who reported all evidence, testimony and court actions by shorthand or on
an old tape recorder, a Bailiff, Russell Jackson, who acted as a receptionist and was in charge of
the court room and juries, and a Probation Officer who usually was a minister and was part time.
I immediately elevated the probation office to full time and appointed Thomas Hanselman, a
former Steuben County Sheriff, as Probation Officer.
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Judgments of the circuit court could be appealed to the Indiana Court of Appeals or in
appropriate matters, to the Indiana Supreme Court. All murder convictions, sentences and
judgments were appealed directly to the Indiana Supreme Court.
Many people think that if an accused is found guilty that he or she can appeal to a higher
court and get a new trial before an appellate court. This concept is wrong. A defendant gets
only one chance to have a trial and that is before the circuit court.
An appellate court cannot substitute its opinion of the facts for that of the jury and trial court.
No new evidence is presented before an appellate court. The appellate court will only review the
evidence presented at the trial court. The appellate court will review whether the trial court
evidence favorable to the State is sufficient to sustain a verdict of guilty and only if it does not,
will it reverse the conviction. Rarely is a verdict reversed on this basis.
The appellate court primarily rules on errors of law that the trial judge may have made.
Examples of errors of law are an improper jury instruction given by the judge, or the judge
allowing improper evidence or testimony over proper objection to be introduced by counsel. The
Appellate Court must find a serious and prejudicial error of law made by the trial judge in order
to reverse a guilty verdict.
The matters presented to a Circuit Court judge are varied and challenging.
The matters presenting the most difficult choices to me were child custody in divorce cases,
disposition of juvenile matters, and sentencing in criminal cases. All divorce and juvenile
matters are presented to a judge for decision. A jury is not allowed.
In Indiana a person can obtain a divorce if there are irreconcilable differences. This is quite
different from the traditional divorce requirements of proof of adultery or incurable insanity.
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These strict rules gave rise to the hiring of private investigators who would attempt to take a
photograph of the erring partner in flagrante delicto. Also, what is incurable insanity and
how do you prove it? Therefore now in Indiana, a person can always obtain a divorce by
testifying, My wife and I disagree on almost everything and there is no chance that we can get
back together again. Unlike most other states, Indiana does not provide for alimony (support
payments) to a husband or wife unless he or she is severely mentally or physically disabled. This
does not provide much protection to the wife who drops out of school, gets a job to help her
husband through medical school, has three children while her husband is building his practice,
and is then divorced by her husband for irreconcilable differences. She is left to rear the
children while her husband marries his nurse and lives happily ever after. She will have to
support herself with only a high school education!
The Indiana divorce statute was amended when I was judge. The Indiana legislature in their
infinite wisdom thought that it was deleterious to use the term divorce and amended the law to
provide that thereafter the term would be dissolution of marriage. Therefore after the
amendment it was improper for a wife to say to her husband, If you hit me one more time Im
gunna stick your ass in jail, take the kids and divorce you. The proper comment would be,
Honey, if you cannot conform your actions to accepted standards, I might have to seek
incarceration for you and file a Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.
The Indian divorce statute has recently been amended to basically allow no fault divorces.
If both parties agree, they can stipulate in writing that a divorce be granted without stipulating
any cause, and the judge can, without a trial or hearing, grant the divorce. Also, most judges
now order the parties to submit to mediation which usually results in a Marital Settlement
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Agreement which settles all property, support and visitation matters, which the judge will
approve.
Presiding over divorce cases was an eye opener for me. I guess I had led a sheltered life. I
had parents that loved each other who never raised their voices in anger and a wife who was all
things wondrous. It was difficult for me to listen to testimony from people who had been in love
and had promised to love and honor until death do us part tear each other apart in the hope of
obtaining a larger property settlement. Usually custody was an afterthought. The mother
traditionally obtained custody of young children.
Occasionally both the husband and wife would seek a divorce. Each party wanted bragging
rights. The Judge gave me the divorce because of the way my husband (wife) treated me.

In one divorce case which stands out in my memory, a childless couple in their 60s both
wanted a divorce but they could not agree on who would get the Cadillac and some wedding
presents they had received five years before. The husband was represented by Dudley Gleason,
Jr. of the firm of Gleason & Gleason (father and son), a sixty two year old constitutional lawyer
who seemed to always quote the bible when making any statement to a judge or jury. He was
about five feet tall, robust and had a deep resonant voice. It was almost like hearing God speak.
The only issue at the trial was the division of their property. I was therefore somewhat surprised
when Dudley offered into evidence on behalf of the husband, without objection of opposing
counsel, seven photographs of the wife in a Holiday Inn motel room in Florida which were taken
on a recent vacation. The photographs were taken by the husband and showed his wife
completely nude in various poses. I asked Dudley the relevancy of the photographs and he
stated, Your Honor, any woman who would allow herself to be photographed naked is immoral,
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is condemned before the eyes of God, and should not be allowed to share in my clients worldly
goods. I was preoccupied with the pictures which showed a rather plump old woman with large
sagging breasts. I could not imagine anyone that old cavorting sexually around a hotel room.
Remember, I was in my early 40s. I have since changed my mind.
A divorce case was never really over until the youngest child reached eighteen. The parties
seemed to always be coming back to court to revise the amount of child support (My husband
got a new job and he is making more now or He is spending a ton of money on that fat girl
friend of his and her children); to change visitation (I do not want my daughter around that
whore he is living with); custody (I just cant handle Joshua anymore. He is out of control and
smokes pot. Its his fathers turn); and to request that the husband be put in jail for non support
or failure to abide by a visitation order (He makes a ton of money but spends it all on booze,
punch cards and girlfriends and has not paid support for four months or I have the kids ready
for visitation every other Sunday at 2 p.m. but he rarely shows up to pick them up and even if he
does, he returns them dirty and late every time).
Miracles do happen though. Often I had a father testify in a non support case that he really
wanted to catch up on his back support (usually several thousand dollars) and help his six
children, but even though he had a good job, he had no money available. About the second day
of serving an indeterminate jail sentence for contempt of court, the husband would somehow
come up with the money and pay the entire back support-a miracle!
Juvenile court was a heartbreaker. Anyone up to eighteen was considered a juvenile in
Indiana and there was a distinct body of law for them which was different from adult criminal
law. The emphasis in juvenile law was help rather than punishment. A juvenile could not be
originally charged with a criminal law violation. A juvenile was charged with An act of
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delinquency, to wit: taking cash at gun point from the cash register at the Martin Gas Station.
The judge was to act as parens patriae or an enlightened father, understanding, fair, but firm.
The judge was to exercise the conscience of the community. When I first started to practice law,
a juvenile offender when caught was held in jail for a day or so and then brought before the
judge. The prosecutor presented the facts and, after the juvenile made any statement he desired,
the judge would immediately decide if the juvenile had committed the offense and if so, what
should be done about it. Usually there were no witnesses other than a police officer. The
juvenile was not represented by an attorney. His parents were allowed to be present and make a
statement. When I became judge, the law had changed. The juvenile was always represented by
an attorney (at county expense usually), the hearing was conducted like an adult criminal trial,
and a final decision could not be made by the judge until the juvenile had been evaluated by the
probation department or other experts deemed necessary.
Most juvenile offenders were male. I had a few delinquent girls but their offenses were minor
such as shoplifting or skipping school. If the offense was serious, such as armed robbery, the
minor could be waived by the judge to adult criminal court and the prosecutor was instructed
by the judge to file adult criminal charges against the juvenile. All proceedings thereafter
including sentencing to prison were treated as if the juvenile were an adult.
In juvenile matters I tried very hard to understand the cause of the delinquency and structure a
proper response to help the juvenile. In some cases this might even entail a stay at the county
jail. Many times the probation officer and I failed to help the juvenile. Sad to say, even at
fourteen or fifteen, it was often too late.
In one juvenile case, I visited with the juvenile quietly in my chambers in an attempt to find
the cause of his acts. He had broken into four cottages around Crooked Lake and stolen some
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electronics. He was seventeen, the son of a local professional and had supportive parents. I
asked him why he had broken into the cottages and his sole explanation was, Because it was
easy. Go figure. I gave up delving into juvenile psychiatry.
In another juvenile case, I thought that I may have been successful in rehabilitation. Charlie
was seventeen and had been involved in several burglaries about six months before. He had
been reporting to the probation officer on a regular basis and on one of these visits to the
probation officer, I talked with Charlie. I asked how he was doing and if there was anything I or
the probation officer could do to help him. He stated that he was doing real well, had gone back
to school and had a part time job. He wanted to thank us for helping him. I remember that
evening, while relaxing with a glass of wine (white zinfandel), telling my wife Susanna about
Charlie and how pleased we were about his apparent success. In the early morning hours of the
next day, Charlie was arrested in Michigan after blowing the door of a safe at a Sears. Under
Michigan law he was an adult at seventeen and he was later found guilty and sentenced to eight
years in prison.
Most of my civil suits involved automobile accidents. If the plaintiff could prove that the
defendant was negligent (that the defendant drove the vehicle below the standard of care that a
reasonable man would have exercised which was the proximate cause of damages to plaintiffs
vehicle or person), and that plaintiff was not negligent, the plaintiff was entitled to damages.
Determining personal injury damages was difficult if pain and suffering were involved. Doctor
and hospital bills and lost wages were usually easy to prove. But how much should a judge or
jury award for the loss of an eye, both legs, brain damage, paralysis or pain? I have heard
plaintiffs attorneys state to the jury to aid them in determining damages for pain, How much
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money would you take per day constantly to have severe headaches every day (or not be able to
walk) for the rest of your life? Just multiply that amount by the life expectancy of the plaintiff.
I also presided over several civil cases against medical doctors for malpractice (medical
negligence). Indiana had an interesting negligence evidentiary law which was only applicable to
medical negligence. In order to prove medical negligence, the plaintiff must produce at least one
licensed medical doctor as a witness who testifies that he or she is familiar with the accepted
standard of medical care in the community and that the actions of the defendant doctor fell below
this standard. Two cases were brought by the same attorney against the same doctor.
The first malpractice case involved a claim by a married couple for damages for the birth of
their ninth child. The first eight children joined as plaintiffs. The defendant doctor had
performed a sterilization tubal ligation upon the wife after her eighth child was born. This
procedure, as were all previous deliveries, was paid for by the County Welfare Department.
About ten months later, the wife gave birth to a normal boy. The wife claimed damages for her
pain and suffering in childbirth and for support for the ninth child until he was eighteen. The
husband claimed damages for his loss of consortium (sex) with his wife during the pregnancy
and for support for the ninth child until he was eighteen. The other eight children claimed
damages in that there would be less money for their care and less love and affection for them
since they would now have to share with a ninth child. The plaintiffs wanted the defendant
doctor to support the ninth child until he was eighteen!
The defendant denied all claims. He also claimed that there was no such negligence law in
Indiana, and that the plaintiff wife should have had an abortion or placed the child for adoption if
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the child was not wanted. It was their duty to mitigate (lessen) damages. The plaintiffs stated
that they wanted and loved the child.
This type of action has become to be known as a wrongful birth action as contrasted with
the traditional wrongful death negligence action. Whether this type of negligence action
should be allowed as common law in Indiana had not been presented to any Indiana court. It was
a case of first impression and I was being asked to establish a wrongful birth negligence action
as part of the common law of Indiana. After extensive research I determined that only two states
had ruled on this. Michigan had allowed such an action and Delaware had not. The Delaware
Supreme Court thought that the benefits of having a healthy child far exceeded any damages and
therefore, as a matter of law, since plaintiffs had no damages there could not be any recovery.
The Michigan Supreme Court thought that a jury should be given the opportunity to decide if in
fact the plaintiffs were damaged. In the Michigan case the defendant was a pharmacist who had
mistakenly given the plaintiff wife sleeping pills instead of the prescribed birth control pills.
I followed the Michigan rule and allowed the matter to proceed to trial. The plaintiffs had the
required licensed doctor witness who testified not in person but by deposition. The doctor
practiced general medicine in Wyoming but stated that he was well acquainted with the medical
standards of Steuben County, Indiana, as to a proper tubal ligation since he was originally from
Steuben County. He stated that in his opinion the defendant must have failed to properly
perform the operation as a child was conceived. His deposition was read to the jury by the
plaintiffs attorney who had a deep voice and looked like a doctor. The jury did not know that in
fact the doctor had a high voice and was not impressive at all.
The defendant had two imminently qualified tubal ligation specialists as witnesses. They had
performed hundreds of such operations and testified that the procedure followed by the
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defendant was according to accepted medical practice. They further testified that even with a
proper tubal ligation operation, sometimes nature would reconnect the cut tube and pregnancy
could occur. The jury found that the defendant was not negligent. There was therefore no need
for the jury to determine if there were any damages to plaintiffs.
The second malpractice case involved a couple in their late 50s. The plaintiffs were
represented by the same attorney and the suit was against the same medical doctor. The doctor
was alleged to have botched a vasectomy. The plaintiff husband claimed that after the operation
he had developed two nodules on his penis and as a result he had experienced extreme pain when
engaging in intercourse. This condition lasted for about three months and until the same doctor
performed a minor procedure and removed the nodules. The husband could not claim damages
for the expense of the operations as the County Welfare Department had paid for these. He did
however claim damages for pain and suffering during intercourse for the three months. The wife
joined as a plaintiff and claimed damages for diminished pleasure during intercourse because of
the discomforting effect of the nodules. She further claimed that during intercourse her husband
perspired a lot and would keep crying out, which indicated to her that her husband was in
extreme pain. This considerably lessened her pleasure to her great damage. The plaintiff
husband claimed ten thousand dollars as damages and the plaintiff wife claimed five thousand
dollars as damages. The plaintiffs attorney on direct examination of the wife in order to attempt
to prove the extent of damages elicited the fact that they had intercourse at least once a day.
Upon cross examination the doctors attorney asked the wife, Surely you did not have relations
every day for ninety days? She replied modestly, Oh yes, we were so in love. The jurors
during all of the testimony about fell out of their chairs leaning forward to not miss a word of the
testimony. I had a hard time keeping a judicial demeanor and thought to myself fantastic. The
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jury returned a verdict awarding damages of ten thousand dollars to the husband and five
thousand dollars to the wife. If my calculations are correct, and assuming the number of
assignations alleged are correct, this would amount to about $166.67 per pop (less 33% attorney
fees).
My thoughts of fantastic during the testimony of the wife came from one of my favorite
jokes. It seems that two married ladies were discussing their past summer vacations. The first
lady stated that her handsome, wonderful and generous husband had first taken her to Paris and
bought her all of the latest French perfumes. The other lady replied fantastic. The first lady
then stated that her husband had then taken her to Moscow and bought her a gorgeous full length
Russian sable coat. The other lady again replied fantastic. The first lady then stated that her
husband had then taken her to Rome and bought her many beautiful Italian leather shoes and
handbags. The other lady again replied fantastic. The first lady then inquired of the second
lady And what did you do this summer? The second lady answered that her husband had paid
tuition for her to take a two week charm school course for ladies. And what did you learn? the
first lady inquired. The second lady responded I learned to say fantastic instead of bullshit.
I presided over many criminal cases. One thing I surmised was that there must have been a
special class at the police academy which would assist an officer in testifying concerning why he
or she had searched a vehicle or arrested a driver for driving under the influence. When the
prosecutor would ask a police witness at trial why the vehicle was searched or the defendant
arrested, the reply was always, I observed what appeared to be a green leafy plant like material
(marihuana) protruding from under the front seat. or I observed what appeared to be the butt of
a gun protruding from under the front seat. or The driver had blurry eyes, slurred speech, and
there was a strong odor of alcohol. The exact words were used in every trial!
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During my tenure as judge there were not many drug charges filed. They were mostly
possession of a small amount of marihuana. Meth was unknown then. Not as now where almost
every other old farm house (and quite a few automobiles) in northeast Indiana have active and
profitable meth labs. It seems that about every week a farm house or car is blowing or burning
up due to faulty recipes.
Two drug cases involved more serious offenses. Both incidentally involved dogs. The first
case was commenced by a request by the prosecutor that I issue a search warrant. The Fourth
Amendment provides that no search warrant shall be issued unless there is presented to a judge
an affidavit of probable cause to believe that the search will lead to the discovery of certain
described evidence. The affidavit must be made by a person who is reputable who has direct
knowledge of the facts. In this case the reputable person was a dog!
The dog had been on regular patrol for the Postal Department at the San Diego, California,
port and when sniffing a certain large package being mailed from Thailand to a person with an
address of Jimmerson Lake, Angola, Indiana, indicated that the package had hashish (a high
grade marihuana) inside. Usually a package would have had an outer layer of coffee beans to
disguise the distinct odor. The Thai dealer must have gone cheap because there were no coffee
beans. Even though the dog could not on his or her oath state the fact that the package contained
a proscribed drug, I accepted the affidavit of the postal inspector that he believed the dog was
reputable and had the necessary expertise. I issued the search warrant and upon delivery of the
package to the Angola house by the rural mail carrier about ten staked out Deputy Sheriffs, after
knocking on the front door and waiting for about ten seconds for a response, broke through the
door. The officers were almost late. Most of the hashish was disappearing down the toilet. The
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propriety of the convictions and the issuance of the search warrant were later upheld on appeal
by the Indiana Appellate Court.
The second drug case involved a state police undercover officer who had infiltrated a
weapons and drug selling group in Fort Wayne, Indiana. The officer had arranged to purchase a
large quantity of cocaine from the group. The exchange of drugs and money was to take place in
the Angola Holiday Inn parking lot which was just three miles south of the Michigan state line.
The officer waited in his old car in the parking lot at the appointed time. He was wired. Two
state police were in a van nearby with radio receivers. Two Steuben County deputy sheriffs were
cruising nearby in an unmarked car. Soon a car approached the lot (a raven black 1970 Boss 302
Mustang), circled slowly by all of the parked vehicles, and departed. The officer recognized the
driver as one of the group from Fort Wayne. In the front seat was a large Doberman, a status
symbol among drug dealers. Then a second drug dealer drove into the lot and pulled up beside
the undercover officer. The drug dealer told the officer to get into the dealers car and they
drove away. This was obviously an unanticipated change of plans which was complicated by the
fact that the wire was not working. The police were frantic. They did not know where the dealer
was taking the officer and thought that his cover may have been blown.
The drug dealer drove north into Michigan and then turned west and south on a gravel road
into Indiana. The car stopped and the drug dealer jumped out and uncovered a large package
buried in a snow bank. The package was opened by the officer and the cocaine tested while the
dealer drove north just over the state line into Michigan. It tested pure cocaine and the officer
paid the dealer. All of the time the officer and the dealer were talking the officer assumed that
all of the conversations were being overheard by the other police officers. He thought that they
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were near and would come to his assistance shortly. The officer pulled his hand gun and ordered
the dealer to stop the car and get out.
Just then the backup Mustang being driven north out of Indiana appeared and drove toward
the officer. The car contained a snarling Doberman and the other dealer, probably armed. The
officer with drawn pistol stood in the middle of the road to block the Mustang. The officer did
not know what he should do next. He was expecting his own backup. Luckily, the sheriffs, who
had been frantically cruising all of the back gravel roads in the area, came upon the scene and
helped subdue both of the dealers. The Doberman was thankfully spared and tied to a tree. A
search of both vehicles disclosed more coke and several semi-automatic weapons. Both dealers
were charged in Indiana and Michigan with possession of unregistered firearms, possession and
sale of cocaine. The defendants claimed the defense of entrapment-that the idea of committing
the crimes originated with the police when the defendants had no previous intention or
disposition to break the law. The defendants also claimed that the Indiana officers had no right
to arrest them in Michigan and that the officers had no probable cause to arrest. The defendant
who was in the first car filed a motion, based upon entrapment, to dismiss the case and to
exclude all evidence of the drugs and guns as improperly obtained in Michigan. I denied the
motion. The backup defendant, who was represented by the same defense attorney, then
procured a change of venue to another judge and filed the same motion before the new judge.
The new judge, who was the Circuit Court judge of an adjoining county, granted the motion and
dismissed the case against the backup defendant. In the trial of the first defendant before me the
jury deliberated only one hour. The jury convicted the defendant of all three crimes and I
sentenced him to ten years in prison. Prior to the trial, the defendant was offered a plea bargain
by the prosecutor which would have called for a total sentence of two years. The defendant
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refused such offer. His well paid attorney had assured him that he would get him off scot free!
The conviction was upheld on appeal to the Indiana Appellate Court.
In Indiana, if a person is charged and tried for first degree murder, he is automatically charged
with four lesser felony offenses. The jury can find him guilty of first degree murder,
(Intentionally killing another human being with premeditation and malice) or second degree
murder, (Intentionally killing another human being with malice but with no plan in advance to
kill-no premeditation) or voluntary manslaughter, (Intentionally killing another human being
without malice or premeditation and in the heat of passion) or involuntary manslaughter, (No
intent to kill but the death was the result of reckless and wanton conduct) or battery, (Intentional
offensive contact with another human being). This is called the doctrine of lesser included
offenses. The penalties range from death to six months imprisonment for battery.
By using the above principles, juries can arrive at surprising verdicts from not guilty to a
conviction of a lesser included offense. Most are compromise verdicts. I presided over many
trials in which I believe that the jury verdicts were based upon compromise or in some cases a
complete disregard of the facts.
The following are three trials over which I presided which illustrate these principles.
TRIAL 1:
The defendant was charged with First Degree Murder: intentionally killing with malice and
premeditation.
Defendant was very jealous of his wife and thought that she was having an affair with a
fellow factory worker. At 11:30 p.m. the defendants wife was returning home by car from work
along a lane near their home. The defendant had been waiting for her and as she drove past him,
he threw a large boulder at her car. She stopped the car and defendant ran up and opened her car
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door. He pulled her out of the car and slashed at her with a knife. She was able to spray him
with pepper spray and ran down the lane away from the defendant. The defendant ran after her
and repeatedly struck her with his knife in the back and finally in the throat which was fatal. He
testified that he then lay on the ground, cradled her head on his lap, and began crying. He further
testified that he was afraid for his life as he thought she had a gun in her purse, and only stabbed
his wife in self defense.
The jury reached a verdict of voluntary manslaughter. Some jurors thought that there was an
intentional killing with malice and premeditation, and therefore murder. Some jurors thought
that the killing was not planned, was done in the heat of passion, and therefore voluntary
manslaughter. Some jurors thought that the killing was done in self defense. The final verdict
appeared to be a compromise.
TRIAL 2:
The defendant was charged with First Degree Murder: intentionally killing with malice and
premeditation.
The defendant and his wife often had heated arguments. During one such argument,
defendant testified that his wife took a large kitchen knife and lashed out at him. As a result he
received a small surface cut on his hand. He grabbed her and as they fell backward they broke a
large ceramic jug. He picked up a jagged sharp piece of the broken jug and swung at his wife.
According to his testimony, his wife stated that she was going to kick him in the balls. Upon
hearing this he stated that he had no choice but to immediately defend himself and his manhood.
He stated that he took the knife away and stabbed her to protect himself.
The evidence disclosed that the defendants wife had over thirty wounds on her body. Some
wounds were caused by the knife and some by sharp pieces of the ceramic jug. Eleven deep
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wounds on the front of her hands and arms were described by an expert witness as defense
wounds, those caused by holding out your arms to defend yourself.
The jury reached a verdict of battery and sentenced the defendant to six months in prison.
Some jurors thought that there was an intentional killing with malice and premeditation, and
therefore murder. Some jurors thought that the killing was not planned, was done in the heat of
passion, and therefore voluntary manslaughter. Some jurors thought that the killing was done in
self defense. The final verdict appeared to be a compromise.
TRIAL 3:
The defendant was charged with Rape.
The victims were two girls in their twenties who were on their way home to Boston from a
vacation. They had been travelling in the western states and were hitchhiking along the Indiana
Toll Road. They were on summer vacation from a Boston College. While stopping at a toll
plaza, they accepted a ride with a truck driver who was heading east.
An Indiana State Trooper was driving along the toll road and noticed a semi tractor trailer
parked along the side of the road with the engine running. The trooper stopped to investigate and
found the defendant and the two girls in the back sleeper portion of the tractor. One girl was
huddled in the corner. The defendant was on top of the other girl engaged in intercourse. Both
girls were crying. Both girls claimed that the defendant had beaten them and threatened them
with further harm unless they allowed him to have intercourse with them. The defendant was
arrested and charged with rape.
Within two hours the girls appeared before me to testify concerning their ordeal. The purpose
of the hearing was to determine if there was probable cause to issue a formal arrest warrant. I
found probable cause and issued the warrant. When the girls appeared in court they were still
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wearing their original clothes which appeared to be torn. Also many bruises were apparent to
me.
The defendant appeared before me for preliminary hearing and bond was set. His trucking
company posted bond. At the formal arraignment hearing, the defendant did not appear. I issued
a warrant for his arrest.
The defendant was picked up for a traffic violation in Texas two years later. He waived
extradition and was returned to Steuben County for trial. At that time it was not a crime in
Indiana to jump bail. The only penalty was to forfeit the bond which of course the trucking
company had to pay.
The girls both returned to testify. The defendant testified that the girls had been pestering him
for about fifty miles to stop and have some fun. Finally, being a normal man, he said he could
not resist any longer and at their urgent request, he had intercourse with both of them.
The jury returned a verdict of not guilty! When asked why they returned a not guilty verdict,
they stated that most of the jurors felt that any decent girl would not travel across the country
hitch hiking and that if they did they were just asking for it.
In my third year as judge I presided over a jury trial for a triple murder. The murders had
occurred in New Whiteland, Johnson County, just south of Indianapolis, Indiana. Because of pre
trial publicity in the area, the trial was transferred to Steuben County and the Steuben Circuit
Court. The state was asking for the death penalty. This trial was the only trial involving the
death sentence which has ever been held in Steuben County.
I was first made aware of a criminal case being transferred to Steuben County when, during a
coffee break at Bassetts Restaurant across the street from the courthouse, two local attorneys
reported to me that they had been contacted by Johnson County attorneys concerning the circuit
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judge and the community. The local attorneys said it was a high profile murder case with a black
defendant. They wanted to know if I knew anything about it. I didnt.
Although a judge to whom a case will be transferred cannot refuse a transfer to the court,
usually the transferring judge will contact the judge of the court where the case will be
transferred and obtain consent. This was not done in this case, probably because the judge of the
Johnson County Circuit Court knew there would be reluctance to accept transfer if the facts of
the case were known.
When the case file was received and filed in the Steuben Circuit Court on September 23,
1974, I knew that the case would be a tremendous challenge especially since the State was
seeking the death penalty. I had no way of knowing the physical, mental and emotional strain
that there would be upon me and my family. The trial took three weeks, resulted in a jury verdict
of guilty, and I imposed the death sentence. (See Endnote 3 for a summary of the trial and
subsequent proceedings)
My only personal brush with the criminal law illustrates the fact that sometimes the
complexities of constitutional protections do not filter down to the lower levels of police
enforcement. After retiring from the bench I stopped briefly at my old law office one day. I
parked right in front of the office. I looked out the front window and observed a lady Angola
City Police officer placing a large yellow chalk mark on my right rear tire, writing something on
a tablet and walking away. The object of the marking was to keep tabs on parked cars to see if
they violated a city ordinance against parking over two hours. I promptly went to my car and
started to rub the yellow mark off. The officer came running back to my car and told me that I
could not do that. I said that I had just parked my car, was about to leave and as she knew I was
not violating any parking ordinance. She said that she would have to give me a parking ticket
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because I had rubbed some chalk off and I was not supposed to do this. She gave me a parking
ticket. After receiving the ticket I went to talk to the Angola Chief of Police. I asked him if
there was any ordinance or other law which forbad rubbing off yellow chalk marks on tires. He
said that there was no such ordinance or law but they had been having problems with people
doing that and he had instructed his officers to ticket any such action. Somewhat dismayed, I
asked him if I had heard him correctly. Did he really instruct his officers to issue misdemeanor
traffic citations to persons who had not violated any law? He said yes. He did so because
something had to be done to stop the illegal excess parking. I asked what would be done if I did
not pay the $2.00 fine for violating a law that did not exist. He said with a straight face that if I
did not pay the fine within 24 hours he would follow procedure and instruct the City Attorney to
file charges against me in Circuit Court for the $2.00 plus $25.00 per day late penalty. I paid the
$2.00.
In 1971 I faced a decision which would test my basic beliefs as to the right of privacy and the
treatment of persons with mental disabilities.
The Steuben County Welfare Department filed a petition to have an eighteen year old woman
under their care and custody involuntarily sterilized. The petition alleged that she was
feebleminded, was about to be married to a man who was also feebleminded whom she had
met at a mental institution, and that if not sterilized she would most likely have several children
of like mental condition. The petition was pursuant to Indiana law and asked that a hearing date
be set for the presentation of evidence and that notice be given to the eighteen year old woman.
This procedure and authority for a judge to order sterilization was set forth in an Indiana 1927
statute. The Indiana statute was based upon a Virginia statute which had been upheld by the
United States Supreme Court in Buck v. Bell (1927). The statute gave a judge after a proper
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hearing the right to order sterilization of a male or female under state supervision, if the judge
determined that the respondent was feebleminded or morally delinquent.
Buck v. Bell involved Carrie Buck, an eighteen year old girl, who was declared to be a
genetic threat to society by a Virginia state court judge. According to the judges decision,
Carrie was the daughter of a socially inadequate mother and the mother herself of a similarly
afflicted daughter. Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. of the United States Supreme Court
wrote the opinion of the court. The opinion stated, It is better for all of the world, if instead of
waiting to execute degenerate offspring for crime, or to let them starve for their imbecility,
society can prevent those who are manifestly unfit from continuing their kind. The principle that
sustains compulsory vaccination is broad enough to cover cutting Fallopian tubes.Three
generations of imbeciles are enough! The Supreme Court never reversed this decision. Thirty-
three states including Indiana passed laws similar to the Virginia law authorizing involuntary
sterilization. These state laws were all repealed by the mid 1970s and Indiana repealed its law in
1974. Two thousand three hundred men and women were involuntarily sterilized in Indiana and
over sixty-five thousand nationwide.
When the petition was filed with me, I did not set a hearing date. I asked the Welfare
Department to withdraw the petition and stated to the director of the Welfare Department that
even though the Indiana law authorized such a procedure, I would never issue an involuntary
sterilization order. The Welfare Department deferred to my decision.
There is a footnote to this issue. In Stump v. Sparkman (1978), the United States Supreme
Court upheld a 1971 decision by the judge of the DeKalb Circuit Court (the Circuit Court judge
of the county adjoining Steuben County) which authorized the sterilization of a fifteen year old
girl. The court held that the judge was immune from any liability for his decision ordering the
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sterilization since it was a judicial decision. The facts of the case are startling. The girls
mother petitioned the judge to issue an order to have her daughter sterilized. The mother alleged
that the daughter was somewhat retarded. (See Endnote 6 for full Petition). The petition and
subsequent order were never officially filed with the court. There was no hearing and no
evidence was submitted to the judge. The girl was not notified that the petition had been filed
and the judge did not appoint any attorney or guardian-ad-litem to represent the girl. The
petition was granted the same day that it was submitted to the judge. The girl was told by her
mother that she was going to have her appendix removed. Two years later the daughter was
married and upon failure to become pregnant she learned for the first time that she had been
sterilized. She and her husband sued the judge, the doctors and the hospital for damages. Based
upon the Supreme Court decision, recovery against Judge Stump and the others was denied as
the sterilization order was a protected judicial decision.
The implications of this decision are frightening. The immense power given Indiana circuit
and superior court judges makes it imperative that only qualified judges, both in legal training
and moral character, be elected. Great power should always be exercised with great restraint.
After I had served eight years on the bench as the sole judge of the Steuben Circuit Court, and
having been the only judge in the county with general jurisdiction, I was exhausted both
physically and mentally. I had begun as judge with high expectations of helping others resolve
their problems and participating in the administration of justice. I was excited to take on the
challenges. I was nave. It did not take long before I was exposed to the raw underbelly of
society. How could people act this way without any regard to others? I had never been exposed
to or could imagine such actions. Persons appearing before me were murderers, rapists, burglars
and thieves. Some defendants had committed incest, child abuse or domestic violence. Some
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were mentally ill, alcoholics or drug abusers. Married couples could no longer stand each other
and could not wait to get a divorce. My actions and decisions as judge were necessary steps in
the judicial process but I was wearing thin and it was taking its toll on me. I had given my best
but after eight years I had seen the elephant. I had exceeded my threshold and I needed time
to recover. I knew it was time to move on and I resigned as judge.











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CHAPTER EIGHT
The Later Years 1980-2012

For the next year after my retirement from the bench I served as special judge by appointment
by the Indiana Supreme Court in various courts throughout northeastern Indiana. It was
challenging and interesting work. However the pay was twenty-five dollars a day and I needed
to look for other opportunities. Even though starting a law practice over again was difficult as
most of my previous clients had sought other representation during my judgeship, I practiced law
for two years with my previous partner, Wilson Shoup and his son, Kim Shoup. It was a
pleasant association.
In 1983, at the age of fifty-four, I was given the opportunity to teach business law at Tri-State
University in Angola. At that time Tri-State was a small university with about one thousand
students. It was established in 1884 and had a long history of excellence. The university had
separate schools of business, liberal arts and engineering. I was named Professor of Law and
taught various law courses in the business school for eleven years until 1994. It was very
challenging as I was the entire law department. Over the course of a year I would teach courses
in Contracts, Torts, Commercial Transactions, Constitutional Law, Real Estate Law, Labor Law,
Business and Public Policy, which included Anti-Trust Law, Agency, Partnership and
Corporation Law. As you can see, I spent a lot of time preparing to teach these courses,
especially the first few years.
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These were perhaps the most enjoyable years of my legal career. I had loved teaching starting
with my Fort Monmouth days as a youthful soldier. The students were great-so young, so eager
to learn.
I retired from teaching and the practice of law in 1997. I was sixty-eight. Susie had retired
two years before at the age of sixty-two. We were ready to enjoy the golden years. We spent
the next five years together enjoying our children and friends, spending summers at the lake,
winters at Sanibel Island and Fort Myers Beach, and traveling. We traveled by car or cruise ship
to Quebec, Nova Scotia, Alaska, southern and western Caribbean islands, Yellowstone and
Tetons, around Lake Superior (three times), and of course Manitoulin Island to reprise our
honeymoon.
I enjoyed all of our travels but especially going around Lake Superior and Alaska. We would
always go clockwise when going around Lake Superior starting at Sault St. Marie-westward
through the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and northern Wisconsin with Bayfield and the Apostle
Isles-northward to Duluth, Minnesota, and to the delightful and charming lake side village of
Gran Marais, then the Canadian border-northward to Thunder Bay and eastward through
Marathon and Wawa (with huge metal statue of a Goose) to Sault St. Marie. The mountain drive
from Marathon to the Sault along the northern shore of Lake Superior is spectacular.
Our trip to Alaska was the most exciting of my life. It is truly the last frontier. We spent
one week on land and one week cruising southward. We flew to Fairbanks from Fort Wayne and
joined our Princess Cruise Line tour group for two nights in a beautiful riverside Fairbanks
Princess Lodge. The first day we went to a working gold mine and panned for gold. Yes, we
found gold-some from panning but most at the gift shop. That afternoon we cruised the Tanana
and Yukon Rivers in a large paddlewheel boat. From Fairbanks we went by old fashioned dome
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rail car to the entrance of Denali National Park, toured the park by bus with magnificent views of
Mount McKinley, and the wildlife including caribou, moose, Dalls sheep, grizzly bears and
ptarmigan. We stayed that night and the next at the Denali Princess Lodge. The first day in the
morning we took a wild jet boat trip on a glacial river to a remote cabin. In the afternoon we
went to Talkeetna (famous for its Moose Droppings Festival) for another jet boat trip to view an
ancient Athabaska Indian village and nesting bald eagles. The next day we joined the domed rail
cars for our trip to Anchorage and an overnight stay at the Hilton. After a morning tour of
Anchorage and the Heritage Center, we headed by motorbus to the Kenai peninsula and the
Kenai Princess Lodge for a two day stay of sightseeing and salmon fishing. We then took a bus
to the port of Seward to board our Sea Princess cruise ship for a seven day leisurely southbound
cruise. We cruised along the north shore of the Gulf of Alaska, first through Prince William
Sound with the largest collection of tidewater glaciers in the world, then on to Glacier Bay with
its many tidewater calving glaciers, and to the inside passage. On the inside passage we stopped
at the ports and cities of Skagway (with narrow gage railroad up the gold seekers treacherous
mountain trail to the Yukon), Juneau the Capital of Alaska (with boat trip to watch eagles, sea
otter, sea lions and magnificent whales bubble net feeding), and Ketchikan (with side trips to
watch bears feeding and visit a salmon hatchery where fingerlings are released into the Gulf of
Alaska to return three years later). From Ketchikan we cruised to Vancouver to end our tour. I
cannot attempt to describe the beauty and grandeur of Alaska. I was thrilled every second. This
was the last trip Susie and I would take.
Following is a photo of Susie and me taken on board the Sea Princess cruise ship at Juneau,
Alaska.
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In the year 2000, five years after her retirement, Susie received the dreaded diagnosis of
breast cancer. She courageously and hopefully undertook all of her operations and treatments for
five years. As the Welsh Poet Dylan Thomas urged his father, she did not go gentle into that
good night. But alas, after a last kiss, the winged angels took her to be with her parents on
February twenty-eight, 2005, as she lay in my arms. Susie is buried at the Circle Hill Cemetery
in Angola, high on a hill under a centuries old oak tree near her parents.
Later when searching for some Christmas ornaments in our clothes closet, I found an old
cardboard shoe box that I had not known about. The box contained materials saved by Susie
from our courtship and wedding day. Inside the box were all the letters that I had written to
Susie before we were married, old photographs of Susie and me, a Christmas present wrapping
ribbon with an attached small card saying To my darling Susie with all my love forever, from
Jack-Christmas 1959, Susies wedding garter, and the blue plastic Easter egg with green grass
that had held Susies engagement ring.
Ill end my story with dear thoughts of Susie and a song from 1934:
When I grow too old to dream

Ill have you to remember
When I grow too old to dream
Your love will live in my heart.
So, kiss me my sweet
And so let us part
And when I grow too old to dream
That kiss will live in my heart.

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I now live on Lake James in Susies old cottage with my daughter and memories. I am now
doing legal research, writing (See Endnotes 7 and 8 for recent essays) and lecturing for
Continuing Legal Education in an attempt to help with the legal education of attorneys. I would
like to be a good father and grandfather, and keep active as long as possible for, as in Robert
Frosts insightful poem Stopping by Woods on Snowy Evening:
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.




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NOTES
1. Cincinnati was known as the Queen City of the West by virtue of being the early
commercial metropolis of the Ohio Valley. I grew up in Cincinnati but the main attraction to me
as a seventeen year old was across the Ohio River in the city of Newport, Kentucky, and the
Tropicana nightclub. During the Civil War and for the next hundred years Newport in Campbell
County was known as The Sin City of the South with rampant prostitution, gambling and
national-crime-syndicate operations. The story of Newport, and of the Notre Dame, New York
Yanks and Cleveland Browns quarterback hero, George Ratterman, who ran as the reform
candidate for sheriff of Campbell County in 1961, is dramatically set forth in The Great
Kentucky Scandal, an October 24, 1961 article by Bill Davidson in Look Magazine. The story
starts with police entering a motel room at the Glenn Hotel (connected to the Tropicana) and
finding Ratterman allegedly clad only with a shirt and socks in bed with a long-legged strip-
teaser named April Flowers dressed in a slave robe with leopard-skin design with her bosom
showing. The state court trial of Ratterman for soliciting prostitution came to a sudden end
when the prosecutor dismissed the charges after hearing evidence that Ratterman may have been
drugged. The story ends just before a newly appointed United States Attorney General Bobby
Kennedy sends a young federal prosecuting attorney, Ronald Goldfarb, from Washington to
Newport to try and obtain federal indictments against the participants in Rattermans false arrest
and an attorney, Charles E. Lester, who is mentioned in the Look article and had represented
some of the defendants in prior state charges arising out of the events of that fateful night.



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1961 SHERIFF CANDIDATE 1950 NEW YORK YANKS
GEORGE RATTERMAN


My research indicates the following later events.
At the insistence of thirty-four year old newly appointed U.S. Attorney General Robert
Kennedy, the brother of President Jack Kennedy, a federal indictment was obtained and filed in
federal court in October of 1961against Charles E. Lester, a well known and respected criminal
defense attorney; Edward Marty Buccieri, the owner of the Tropicana and Glenn Hotel; Tito
Carinci, the manager of the Tropicana; and three police officers, Quitter, White and Ciafardini.
Robert Kennedy would preside over a Justice Department with over thirty thousand people. He
had limited legal experience and had never been in a courtroom.
The charges were misdemeanor conspiracy to violate the civil rights of George Ratterman.
They were charged with having a common agreement to discredit Ratterman by falsely
arresting and charging him. The government was represented by lead attorney twenty-nine year
old Ronald Goldfarb, two assisting attorneys and a special FBI consultant, Frank Staab, who was
convinced that Lester was behind much of the legal arrangements shielding illegal operations in
Newport. Staab had made an exhaustive investigation throughout the United States and had held
over five hundred interviews in an attempt to uncover evidence against these defendants and
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others. Robert Kennedy wanted to charge the defendants with kidnapping across state lines but
was unsuccessful in obtaining any evidence thereof. Goldfarb and his legal assistants were
assigned to the case by Robert Kennedy. They were special prosecutors in the Justice
Departments Organized Crime and Racketeering Section. They were sent from Washington to
prosecute these misdemeanor charges. Goldfarb was all excited. This was his big chance to
make a name for himself prosecuting mobsters.
A federal jury trial was held and the jury could not agree on a verdict. Even though a retrial
of a misdemeanor charge is rare and very expensive, the federal prosecutor, Ronald Goldfarb,
with extreme pressure from Robert Kennedy, presented the case again to a new jury. In August
of 1963, the second jury convicted Lester and Buccieri of conspiring with the police to have the
police arrest an innocent Ratterman. The jury decided however that Carinci was not guilty of
conspiracy and that the police, Quitter, White and Ciafardini, did not knowingly falsely arrest
and charge Ratterman and were found not guilty! The only evidence against Lester, as set forth
in the above Look article, was that he had asked photographer Thomas Withrow to contact
Buccieri about taking some photographs. Whose photographs, where and when was not
discussed by Lester. The photographs were never taken. Lester explained in his testimony that it
was his understanding that Withrow would be hired to take photographs of patrons at the
Tropicana nightclub, not of Ratterman in the Glenn Hotel room.
Lester and Buccieri were sentenced by federal district court Judge Swinford to twelve months
in federal prison, the maximum allowed by law. Such a severe penalty was almost unheard of.
Lester was 61 years old and had no prior felony charges.
The defendants Buccieri and Lester appealed to the federal Sixth Circuit Court of Appeals.
The defendants argued, If police officers were not guilty and did not conspire with defendants,
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how could defendants conspire with the police officers? The prosecution realized that there was
a serious potential of reversible error and hoped that in the appellate judges deliberation there
might be a subconscious undertow toward upholding convictions to assure that everyone
involved would not go free. They hoped the appellate judges, who did not agree with the jurys
not guilty decisions as to the police officers, would unwittingly nullify the pure law to arrive at a
just decision upholding the guilty verdict for Buccieri and Lester.
The subconscious undertow perhaps won out. The appellate court sustained the conviction
by a split decision-two to one. The majority stated that Lester and Buccieri could be found guilty
of conspiring with innocent police officers to commit a crime which was never committed! The
United States Supreme Court declined to review the case.
Buccieri was granted an early release on parole but Lester was not granted early release. He
was first held in a minimum security federal prison in Alabama. When Robert Kennedy heard of
this he prevailed upon the justice department to have Lester transferred to a maximum security
federal prison in southern Illinois which primarily held rapists and murderers. While there,
Lester lost over forty pounds. Upon his release he slowly recovered his physical health but until
his death still carried psychological scars.
At the instigation of Robert Kennedy, the Internal Revenue Service with the assistance of the
FBI extensively pursued Lester in an attempt to prove income tax evasion. They were
unsuccessful.
In spite of all the time, money and energy spent by Robert Kennedys Justice Department to
clean out the organized crime and mobsters in Campbell County, these two misdemeanor
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convictions were the only ones obtained. Kennedys frustration was taken out on attorney Lester
and Buccieri. The true mobsters just moved on.
Ronald Goldfarb is a well known and respected Washington, D.C. attorney, speaker, author
and literary agent.
Juanita Hodges a/k/a April Flowers continued her dancing first in Louisville, then in
Alabama, and later in Port Huron, Michigan.
George Ratterman served four years as sheriff. After that he was a color commentator for
radio and television. On occasion he was a financial advisor. He never practiced law. He died
in November of 2007 at the age of eighty of complications from Alzheimers disease.
Bruce Lester, the son of Charles Lester, became a respected judge of the Kentucky Appellate
Court for over twenty years and retired recently as Chief Judge.
Two years after the Lester decision, Robert Kennedy was assassinated on June 6, 1968.
Charles E. Lester was my mothers brother, my favorite Uncle Charlie.
2. Angola had the dubious distinction of being the Midwest Marriage Capitol until about
1960. Indiana at that time did not require any residency or waiting period in order to be married.
All adjoining states had strict waiting period requirements and Angola, being five miles from
Michigan and Ohio, was a natural for couples who could not wait to be married (for a variety of
reasons).
The marriage procedure took about two hours and was outlined in a handy flyer available at
the Circuit Court Clerks Office. First a couple was advised to go to one of the two friendly
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competing hospital labs (Elmhurst Hospital and Cameron Hospital) and have their blood tests
taken for syphilis as required by Indiana law. If either tested positive, the couple was out of luck.
Other venereal diseases were inexplicably not tested. The next step was to wait for one hour,
preferably at Ollie Bassetts restaurant (upstairs dining room and counter or newly remodeled
basement bar) until the lab tests were reported to the clerk. Katherine Hepburn and her dog had
eaten lunch at Bassetts in 1941 and a photo of them hangs on the restaurant wall.

After the hour, the couple would go to the clerks office and apply for the marriage license.
On a usual Saturday, there would be a line of happy couples and friends stretching from the
clerks office, out the courthouse door, around the corner First National Bank and to the Post
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Office one block away. Many of the brides-to-be waiting in line, some obviously pregnant, wore
complete long wedding gowns with veils. Many men wore tuxedos. Once the couple had
completed the marriage application questionnaire for the clerk (Are either of you now married?
Do either of you have any children? Are either of you insane?) the clerk would offer the couple
a choice between the standard Indiana marriage license poorly printed on cheap thin paper or the
deluxe version with faux leather cover and a genuine facsimile gold Indiana Seal for only
twenty-five dollars more. The clerk was allowed to pocket the twenty-five dollars. Naturally the
husband-to-be would choose the deluxe version to impress his beloved. Naturally, the clerks
position was highly contested at election time.
The next step was to find a justice of the peace or minister to marry the happy couple. All
were conveniently located within a block of the court house. There were two justices of the
peace, Con Smith and Harvey Shoup. Both had their wives available as official witnesses to the
marriage ceremony. Both were adept at performing a meaningful but hasty ceremony with many
quotations from the bible and other learned sources. After the ceremony, the justice signed the
marriage certificate and bid farewell to the newlyweds. Both justices were amenable to
accepting gratuities (the flyer suggested fifty dollars). The justice of the peace elections were
also highly contested. If the couple wished to have the marriage performed by a minister, a small
garden wedding chapel with flowers and an organist was available only one and a half blocks
from the courthouse according to the map drawn on the flyer (suggested price including all
services and gratuity-$100.00).
The nearby motels were filled with newlyweds. I think about half of the citizens of northern
Ohio and southern Michigan had been married in Angola.
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There were no mixed race couples waiting in line to be married. Indiana law from 1840 until
1965 made miscegenation a crime and provided that sexual intercourse or marriage between
whites and blacks could be punished by a fine not to exceed $5,000.00 and imprisonment not to
exceed twenty years. Blacks were defined as having one-eight or more Negro blood.
In addition to the Clerk of Court and Justice of the Peace positions, there was one other
position which was highly sought after. This was Sheriff of Steuben County during the
Prohibition era (1919-1933). One of the main routes for the transportation of liquor was from
Canada to Detroit, then south to Ohio near Edon, then westward along what is now U.S. 20
through Steuben County and Angola, and then continuing westward to Chicago and Al Capone
and associates. It was reported that bootleggers were often met in Steuben County at the
Indiana-Ohio line by the Steuben County Sheriff who was collecting donations to the police
benevolent society. It was an early version of the Indiana Toll Road.
According to a 1930 article in the Steuben Republican, the local newspaper:
By virtue of the Prohibition law (the 1919 Volstead Act) Steuben County has recently
suffered several black eyes. The federal government charged that Steuben County Sheriff
Charles Zimmerman aided bootleggers in transporting liquor through the county. Charles
Zimmerman faced three separate criminal law suits in federal court in Fort Wayne, two for
violating the Prohibition law and one for murder of a witness. Zimmerman was also said to have
been paid protection money by a Steuben County resident who sold and manufactured liquor in
Steuben County.
In one example dated 1927, Zimmerman allegedly transported twenty cases of whisky from
the Powers School, which is just west of the Ohio line, to Angola. To keep his illegal activity
flowing, Zimmerman allegedly paid protection money to a federal prohibition officer through an
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Angola attorney. Zimmerman obtained dubious acquittals on all three charges. In one case a
witness changed his story and refused to finger the sheriff. In another case, the governments
witness, the officer to whom Zimmerman allegedly paid bribes, disappeared just prior to trial.
Zimmerman was vigorously defended by a powerful and expensive defense team. Among the
attorneys representing Zimmerman were Angola attorneys Alphonso C. Wood, soon to become
an Indiana Appellate Judge (1931-1938), his son, Theodore Wood, later to become President of
Tri-State University, and Dudley Gleason, Sr. of the firm of Gleason & Gleason.

3. The defendants name was David James Roberts. The basic facts were as follows:

New Whiteland, Indiana

It was about 4:30 a.m. on a cold and dark Sunday morning, January 20, 1974, in New
Whiteland, a small middle class white residential community located in Johnson County fourteen
miles south of Indianapolis, Indiana, when a passing car noticed smoke arising from the small
suburban ranch home of William and Elizabeth Ann Harold located on 915 Pine Drive. Within
five minutes the local volunteer fire department had arrived.
Upon entering the front door, the firefighters were met by a surge of fire coming from the
middle section of the house. The house was fairly airtight and therefore the fire had not spread
to the front and was mostly contained to a small den or TV room in the middle of the house. In
ten minutes the fire was brought under control and extinguished.
When the firefighters first arrived they observed through a back bedroom window a baby bed.
They broke the window, entered the bedroom and found the Harolds one year old daughter,
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Jenny, in her small bed still alive but unconscious. She died on the way to the hospital from
smoke inhalation. Her first birthday was three days before.
The firefighters then searched the rest of the house. In the small den the burned bodies of
William and Elizabeth Ann were found. They were 25 and 23 years of age.
Fortunately, their four year old daughter, Marie, was spending the night with her uncle.



WILLIAM HAROLD BODY IN DEN



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ELIZABETH HAROLD BODY IN DEN

The Investigation
The state fire marshals office, state and local police thoroughly examined the Harold home
for evidence as to the cause of the fire and the perpetrator of the crimes.
There was no evidence of forced entry. The front door was open when firefighters and police
arrived. It was determined that the fire was caused by gasoline igniting. A red five gallon gas
can was found in the den.
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No evidence, other than the red gas can, was found at the house to indicate who committed
these crimes.
Harold family members described the Harolds as a loving young couple who had been high
school sweethearts. They were married shortly after graduation from high school. They were
wonderful parents. They had two daughters, Jenny and Marie.
The neighborhood was canvassed by the police and forty-one neighbors were interviewed.
No one had seen any visitors, salesmen or delivery persons in the afternoon or evening of the
murders.
Investigators canvassed all service stations within the New Whiteland and Indianapolis areas
to determine if possible the source of the red five gallon gas can.
Investigators determined from several witnesses that on the late afternoon prior to the murders
at about 5:30 p.m. at a gas station at the corner of 16
th
and Meridian Streets in Indianapolis a
black male in his late 20s, driving a 1970 tan or gold Buick Riviera, borrowed a five gallon red
gas can with $5 DEPOSIT ON THIS CAN in yellow crayon on the side and had it filled with
gasoline. One of the black employees stated to the investigator that he was the one who had sold
the gas and delivered the gas can. It was the same gas can found at the scene of the murders.
After further thorough investigation, preliminary murder charges were filed and an arrest
warrant issued for David James Roberts. Roberts was arrested and held without bail.
David James Roberts
When arrested Roberts lived in Indianapolis. He was African-American. He was 29 years
old, 63 tall, 195 lbs., had a light brown complexion, black hair, brown eyes, mustache and
slight afro haircut. He had a tattoo Carlos. He appeared to be well educated and was very
articulate. He was attractive in appearance.
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David James Roberts was born in Englewood, New Jersey, on January 25, 1944, and lived
there for four years. His parents were African-American.
He had three brothers and three sisters ages 19-37. He had a deceased father and sister. His
mother, sisters and brothers all lived in the Chicago, Illinois, area.
He attended grade school in Boston, Massachusetts and in New York State and attended high
school in St. Paul, Minnesota. He did not have any attendance problems and got along well with
his teachers.
He moved to the Chicago area in 1960. His father was self employed in the trucking business
transporting frozen foods. He owned trucks and heavy equipment. He was very successful in
this business until in the early 1950s when he developed diabetes and was unable to drive a truck
or heavy equipment. Roberts worked with his father in Chicago until his father died in 1965 and
the business was dissolved.
Roberts later moved to Indianapolis and attended Indiana-Purdue University in Indianapolis
for three years. He enjoyed his college courses and received good grades.
In 1972 Roberts married Maryanne Duly. They had one child, Christopher, age two. Roberts
classified his marriage as a good one.
Roberts had worked in a steel mill and as a quality control inspector for Detroit Diesel in
Indianapolis. He had speaking engagements at educational institutions in regard to penal reform.
Roberts enjoyed fishing and reading all types of books, especially law and literature.
Roberts was born a Catholic and has attended church in the past. He stated that he believed in
God.
Later the Johnson County Grand Jury issued Indictments for murder and arson against
Roberts. He was formally arrested again and after several preliminary hearings before the judge
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of the Johnson Circuit Court, the case of State of Indiana v. David James Roberts was
transferred for trial to the Steuben Circuit Court, Angola, Steuben County, Indiana. I was the
Circuit Court judge and the case would be tried before me and heard by a Steuben County jury.















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DAVID JAMES ROBERTS
1974
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Bail Hearing-Johnson County Circuit Court
Before the case was transferred to Steuben County, a bail hearing was held before the judge
of the Johnson County circuit Court.
Even though the Eighth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution prohibits excessive bail, this
prohibition has been interpreted not to require bail when the charge is murder. The Indiana
Constitution provides that there shall be no bail for murder where the proof is evident, or the
presumption strong. This concept was incorporated in the original 1816 Indiana Constitution
and reaffirmed in the 1851 Constitution.
Therefore under Indiana law, if a defendant was being held in prison on a charge of murder
no bail was available unless the proof of guilt was not evident or the presumption of guilt was
not strong. A defendant could challenge his imprisonment without bail by filing a Petition for
Writ of Habeas Corpus and To Be Let to Bail with the circuit court asking for an evidentiary
hearing.
At such a hearing the defendant had the burden of proving that the evidence of guilt against
the defendant was not evident or the presumption of guilt was not strong. If the defendant can
sustain this burden, the court must set a reasonable bail amount and upon posting sufficient bond,
the defendant must be released from custody.
Often an experienced criminal defense attorney would file such a petition to be able to find
out what evidence the prosecutor had against the defendant with no real expectation of being
able to obtain release of the defendant from jail on bail.
Roberts through his court appointed attorney, Tom Jones, filed such a petition and a hearing
date before the Johnson County Circuit Court was set. Tom Jones did not expect to be able to
obtain bail for Roberts but took advantage of the procedure to obtain what amounted to a free
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deposition, an examination under oath, of the prosecutors witnesses. Roberts surprisingly was
confident that the judge would set bail and allow him to post bond and be released.
The hearing was held September 16, 1974. David James Roberts, Joe Van Valer, prosecuting
attorney, and Tom Jones, defense counsel, were present at the hearing before Judge Robert Wise.
At the hearing the prosecuting attorney presented the evidence found at the Harold residence
including the fact that a red five gallon gas can was found in the den.
Surprisingly, the actual five gallon gas can which was found at the scene was neither
introduced into evidence nor identified by either of the next two witnesses even though the can
was available. The gas can was in the trunk of an officers car but never brought into the court
room.
Richard Roman, an employee of Renkite Shell Station, Indianapolis, was then called upon to
testify concerning a red gas can and gas purchase. He testified that he had in fact sold gas and
delivered a red five gallon gas can to a black male in his late twenties at about 5:30 p.m. on the
afternoon before the murders.
He was then asked if he could identify and, if so, point to the person who had purchased the
gas and received the gas can. Richard Roman nervously looked around the courtroom and
directly at Roberts. Richard hesitated and then stated to the judge that he did not see anyone in
the courtroom who looked like the gas purchaser or the person who received the gas can.
The prosecutor, Joe Van Valer, was stunned as the police had told him that Richard Roman
had previously told the police that Roberts was that person.
The prosecutor then called William Hardy to the stand. He was another gas station employee
at Renkite Shell and was a witness to the gas purchase and can delivery. He also had previously
told the police that Roberts was that person. He was asked if he could identify Roberts as the
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person who had received the gas can. William Hardy gave the same response as Richard Roman.
Neither identified Roberts!
Judge Wise asked the prosecutor if he had any further evidence to introduce. The prosecutor
did not offer any further evidence and Judge Wise thereupon found that the evidence of guilt was
not clear and convincing, that Roberts did not pose an eminent risk of flight to avoid prosecution,
and set bail at $10,000.00.
Roberts was not surprised. He had said all along that they had the wrong man. Tom Jones
told Roberts that he would meet with Joe Van Valer and discuss a dismissal. The prosecution
obviously had no case.
Roberts immediately posted a $10,000.00 bond and was released from custody.
The prosecutor would not dismiss the case. The prosecutor was up for election in November
in a hotly contested prosecutors race. How would it look to the Johnson County voters if the
prosecutor dismissed triple murder charges approved by six honorable Johnson County grand
jurors?
The Trial-Steuben Circuit Court
After the panel of jurors had been selected and before evidence had been presented, the Fort
Wayne Journal Gazette published an article about the start of the trial which contained Roberts
prior criminal activity. Such information could not be considered by the jury and I had to
dismiss the entire panel and start over again two months later. After a new panel of jurors was
selected the state produced forty-five witnesses. Among other facts, the evidence disclosed that
the autopsy showed that the Harolds had been strangled to death prior to being set on fire; that
the baby, Jenny, had died of smoke inhalation; that a gold car like Roberts car was seen near the
Harold residence the evening of the murders; that a black male about thirty years old driving a
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car like the Roberts gold car was seen in the late afternoon before the murders at a service
station near the Harold residence and the black driver inquired as to directions to the Harold
House; that William Harold was the only witness in a pending theft case against Roberts; and
that Roberts had been convicted of armed robbery of one dollar and fifty cents in Crown Point,
Indiana, when he was twenty-two and sentenced to twelve years in prison. It was his first
offense. At the trial the two black witnesses that had failed to identify Roberts at the bail hearing
as the person who had purchased the five gallon red gas can found at the scene, now positively
identified Roberts as the gas can purchaser. They explained their failure to identify Roberts at
the previous bail hearing testimony. An anonymous caller before the bail hearing had threatened
to kill their families if they identified Roberts.
The defendant did not testify in his defense. The jury retired to consider their verdict.
On the morning of the last day of the trial, while I was in my chambers preparing the final
instructions, a member of the Indiana State Police spoke with me.
The officer stated that the Indiana State Police had heard from the Illinois State Police that a
confidential informant in Chicago had heard a friend of Roberts, who had been a cell mate of
Roberts, discussing plans with others to help Roberts escape if the jury should find him guilty of
murder. The plans included possibly taking me or my wife and children as hostages to be
exchanged for the release of Roberts.
The conspirators allegedly had made plans for Roberts to fly to Algeria which had no
extradition treaty with the United States.
Roberts brothers and friends were in Steuben County. Security at the courthouse was
increased. I was advised to stay at the courthouse.
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In response to the threat, I had my wife and two small children stay at the house of a friend.
They stayed there until Roberts returned to Indianapolis the next day.



AUTOPSY PHOTOGRAPH OF WILLIAM HAROLD
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AUTOPSY PHOTOGRAPH OF ELIZABETH HAROLD






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AUTOPSY PHOTOGRAPH OF JENNY HAROLD





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The Verdict-Steuben Circuit Court
After eight hours of deliberation, the jury returned a verdict of guilty of first degree murder on
all charges and pursuant to the decision of the jury, I sentenced Roberts to death. In considering
their verdict, the jury was not aware of the following facts:
On a frigid November night prior to the trial a twenty year old white woman with her six
month old son was driving her automobile in Indianapolis, Indiana, and stopped at a red light.
Suddenly the passenger door was opened and a black male entered the car brandishing a
handgun. He ordered the driver to drive to a vacant area on the outskirts of Indianapolis.
Upon arrival, he threatened to kill her if she resisted and raped her twice. She was then
locked in the trunk. He drove the car several miles and then abandoned the car.
Later a passerby heard her pounding on the inside of the trunk and obtained her release. The
infant was not in the car. The infant was later found dead at the side of a nearby roadway. The
child had apparently been thrown from the car and died from exposure.
The police showed the woman several photographs of black males and she positively
identified David James Roberts as her assailant. Charges of rape, kidnapping and murder were
filed against Roberts in the Marion Superior Court in Indianapolis. He was immediately arrested
and held without bail.
These charges were set forth in the newspaper article which some of the first panel of jurors
had read which caused me to dismiss these jurors.
Understandably there was great condemnation in the press over the fact that, a murderer had
been released on bail by the judge to murder again. The Indiana Governor sent a special
representative to Angola to question me as to why I released this murderer on bail. I explained
to the representative that Roberts had been released on bail not by me but by the Johnson Circuit
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judge, and that considering the evidence at the bail hearing, the release was required by law. The
Governors aid was not satisfied at all by the explanation and left stating something about liberal
judges and that they were going to get that law changed. The law has not been changed.
Trial of these Indianapolis charges was held after the New Whiteland Roberts murder trial in
Steuben County ended. The first Indianapolis trial of Roberts ended in a mistrial. When the jury
was deliberating, one of the jurors became ill and the deliberations could not continue. There
was no alternate juror. A second trial was held and also ended in a mistrial. A juror during
deliberations became mentally unstable and violent from the strain of the trial and had to be
hospitalized. Again there was no alternate juror. The third trial ended with a conviction and
sentencing of David James Roberts on all charges. What courage the young woman must have
had to testify in three trials.
At the trial of Roberts in Angola, there was evidence produced that he had committed armed
robbery when he was twenty-two in Crown Point, Indiana. What the jury did not know was that
much more than armed robbery of one dollar and fifty cents was involved.
The twelve year imprisonment sentence that Roberts received for the 1966 Crown Point
armed robbery of one dollar and fifty cents seems excessive for a first offense. However, this
sentence was the result of a plea bargain agreed to by Roberts. Why would Roberts agree to
such a sentence?
Roberts explained the events to his Admissions Officer at Pendleton Reformatory as follows:
At the time of my crime, I was by myself. I saw three ladies in a car, and approached them
and told them: this is a stick-up. I took $40.00 and fled. I was apprehended six blocks from the
scene of the crime by the police.
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My recent search of the Lake County Superior Court records reveals a different story. There
were actually five felony charges filed on March 15, 1966, against Roberts (involving two white
women and a white man) including the original charge of Robbery ($1.50) from Mildred
Wiscolik, which was changed by Amended Affidavit to Armed Robbery ($1.50) and to which
Roberts plead guilty; Inflicting Injury (striking, beating and wounding) Upon Mildred Wiscolik
in the Perpetration of an Attempted Rape; Robbery of a ring ($300.00) and cash ($52.00) from
Richard Lenoski; Kidnapping (forcibly kidnap, imprison and carry off) of Lynette Harnish; and
Rape (forcibly ravish and carnally know) of Lynette Harnish. As a result of the plea bargain, the
four additional charges were continued and Roberts plead guilty to an Amended Affidavit
charging only armed robbery of $1.50. Because of the severity of Roberts alleged actions and
the possible total sentence on all five charges, the agreed to twelve year sentence seems
reasonable. Roberts attorney at that time, Max Cohen, recently stated to me that he thought that
the sentence was fair and that Judge John McKenna usually set the terms of any plea agreement.
The four additional charges were never tried and were dismissed on October 27, 1976 upon
motion of the Lake County prosecuting attorney by virtue of the Steuben County and Marion
County six sentences. The Steuben County Roberts jury was not aware of the Lake County four
additional original charges during their deliberations.
Motion to Correct Errors-Steuben Circuit Court
After the trial, Roberts attorney filed a Motion to Correct Errors claiming that the death
sentence which I had imposed violated the cruel and unusual clause of the Eighth Amendment to
the United States Constitution and the Indiana Constitution.
The Indiana death sentence statute at that time required that a defendant be sentenced to death
if he had committed murder and had an unrelated conviction of robbery. The death sentence was
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mandatory and the jury could not consider any mitigating facts to determine if a life sentence
was more appropriate. If the defendant had a prior conviction of murder however, the defendant
had to be sentenced to life imprisonment.
The Eighth Amendment states, Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines
imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted. The prohibition against cruel and
unusual punishments was considered a basic right of the citizens and first appeared in the
Massachusetts Body of Liberties of 1641. Such a right was set forth in the federal Bill of Rights
adopted in 1791 as the Eighth Amendment.
The prohibition against cruel and unusual punishments has two components. One component
is that the actual punishments should not be cruel and unusual. They can be cruel if they are not
unusual.
English and colonial history contains many cruel and unusual punishments. At one time
using the rack, whipping, dunking or drowning in water, the shaming post, branding, cutting off
ears, slitting noses, burying alive, beating to death and impalement were thought proper
punishments. Treason was punished by first hanging, then cutting down while still alive, then
disembowelment, then dismemberment. Such harsh and terrible punishments were never to be
allowed again.
The second component is that the punishments shall be proportional to the offense. The
Indiana Constitution states in Article 1, Section 16, Cruel and unusual punishments shall not be
inflicted. All penalties shall be proportioned to the nature of the offense. The concept of
proportionality dates back to the Old Testament which proclaims an eye for an eye not an eye,
ear and hand for an eye!
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After much legal research I decided that the Indiana death sentence mandatory statute was
unconstitutional as a violation of the proportionality component of the cruel and unusual
punishments clause of the Eighth Amendment and Indiana Constitution in that the jury was not
allowed to consider mitigating circumstances before deciding to impose a death sentence rather
than life imprisonment. I vacated the three death sentences and imposed life imprisonment
sentences.
There were no Federal or State Court decisions which directly addressed this matter except a
decision of the North Carolina Supreme Court which held that such mandatory sentences were
constitutional. This decision was on appeal to the United States Supreme Court.
It is rare that a trial judge will declare any act of the Indiana legislature unconstitutional. The
usual practice is to accept any such law and defer any constitutional challenge to the appellate
courts. I felt strongly about this matter and was not willing to defer even though my decision
would be contrary to the decision of the North Carolina Supreme Court.
The decision declaring the Indiana death penalty unconstitutional was not binding on any
other court in Indiana and was subject to being reversed by the Indiana Supreme Court. The
decision was not popular, except with the defendant, and some editorials were written strongly
opposing the decision. I received several threatening anonymous letters. One stated that he
hoped someone would burn my wife and children alive.
On July 2, 1976, eight days after my decision, the United States Supreme Court in Woodson
v. North Carolina ruled unanimously that a mandatory death sentence was a violation of the
Eighth and Fourteenth Amendments and ordered the Supreme Court of North Carolina to reverse
the previous decision. The evidence disclosed that four armed men including Woodson, an
African-American, drove to a convenience store. Woodson, who claimed that he had been
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forced to accompany the others, stayed in the car while two others went into the store. They shot
the clerk and a customer, took the money from the cash register and fled in the car. The clerk
died from her wounds. The jury found Woodson guilty of murder and sentenced him to death as
required by the North Carolina statute.
By virtue of the Woodson decision of the United States Supreme Court, the Indiana death
sentence statute, which was similar to the North Carolina statute, became unconstitutional. I was
vindicated! To comply with the Woodson decision, the Indiana legislature in 1977 adopted a
comprehensive new murder statute that provided for a bifurcated trial if the death sentence was a
possible verdict, and set forth specific aggravating and mitigating circumstances which the jury
must consider and find before a death sentence could be imposed. There are no more mandatory
death sentences in the United States.
Upon appeal to the Indiana Supreme Court, the court unanimously agreed with my opinion in
the Roberts case. The court found that no error had been committed by the trial judge (me).
If the Roberts case had been tried under the new 1977 Indiana act, the jury would have been
able at the sentencing phase to hear evidence concerning the Indianapolis rape, kidnapping and
murder charges. The jury might very well have constitutionally sentenced David James Roberts
to death.
Northwest of Indianapolis
October 25, 1986

On the morning of October 25, 1986, I was reading the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette and on
the fifth page I saw a brief article with the headline MURDERER ESCAPES. I was in a hurry
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and almost skipped reading the article. Curiosity prevailed and I read it. David James Roberts
had escaped from custody the previous day.
Roberts had been held since his convictions at the Indiana State Prison at Michigan City,
Indiana, which is fifty miles east of Chicago, Illinois. The prison was built during the civil war
to house Confederate prisoners. Three out of four of the two thousand prisoners were
imprisoned for murder, making it one of the most dangerous prisons in the country.
Roberts had chronic lung problems and was often transported by prison guards from the
Indiana State Prison to the Wishard Memorial Hospital in Indianapolis, Indiana, for treatment.
Before leaving the hospital after treatment, Roberts was strip searched and shackled. When he
was being transported back to the prison, a stop was made at a fast food restaurant. Roberts was
allowed to go to the mens room. The guards stood outside. Upon leaving the rest room Roberts
produced a .38 caliber handgun and ordered the guards to go to the parking lot. They all entered
the police cruiser and a guard drove as directed to a nearby rest stop. At the rest stop Roberts
forced the guards to unlock his shackles. The guards were handcuffed and Roberts went to a
payphone. While Roberts was on the phone, the guards ran into the adjoining woods and
escaped. Roberts then drove away in the cruiser heading northwest toward Illinois.
Obviously Roberts had help in his escape. Someone had to have placed the handgun in the
mens room. Somehow Roberts had gotten the guards to stop at the right restaurant. The police
speculated that one of Roberts cellmates may have been his accomplice. The mystery was never
solved. Both officers were subsequently disciplined for negligence in handling Roberts. One of
the guards confessed to trafficking in contraband for prisoners and was summarily dismissed.
Roberts drove twenty-five miles to the next rest stop. A nondescript older car with the
ignition keys under the front seat was waiting for him. He changed vehicles and drove north to
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the Indiana Toll Road and headed east toward New York City. The Indiana State Police alerted
the police in the Gary and Chicago areas to be on the alert for Roberts. His family was closely
watched.
Because of Roberts history of revenge, the Indianapolis rape victim was moved by the police
to an undisclosed location for a week. As a precautionary matter, the Angola City Police made
extra patrols in my Angola neighborhood for several days.
Escape and kidnapping charges were filed against Roberts and on April 27, 1987, Roberts
was placed on the F.B.I. Most Wanted List.

Americas Most Wanted
February 7, 1988
The first episode of the Americas Most Wanted show, hosted by John Walsh on the new
Fox Network, was aired February 7, 1988, seventeen months after the escape of David James
Roberts. The first episode featured David James Roberts, his crimes and his escape. Although
the program launched with the challenging statement Watch Television-Capture Fugitives no
one knew if it would really work. Fox was a new network then, and Americas Most Wanted
showed only in a few areas.
Roberts was the only one featured that night, and as soon as the first commercial break
started, the hotline began to receive calls. More than seventy-five calls were received. Most of
the tips came from people in the New York City area.
One of the first calls to the hotline was from a woman in New York City claiming she was the
girlfriend of a person named Bob Lord. She stated that she lived with him and that he showed a
remarkable resemblance to David James Roberts.
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She further stated that he had become ill and had gone to a hospital emergency room.
The New York City police and FBI immediately started their investigation. The woman
identified Roberts as her boyfriend after being shown his photograph.
When authorities arrived at the hospital, they discovered that Roberts had suddenly checked
out. When they went back to his room they discovered a copy of TV Guide laid on his bed
opened to the story of David James Roberts on AMW.
Further investigation uncovered the fact that he was the director of a homeless shelter for men
on Long Island and was known as Bob Lord. He had been earning an $18,000.00 annual salary.
Everyone at the shelter was shocked. He was thought to be a friendly, caring and conscientious
worker whom everyone liked.
Four days later on February 11, 1988, Roberts was captured without a struggle hiding out in
an apartment in New York City.


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Roberts was the first fugitive captured who was listed on the newly established F.B.I. Most
Wanted List.
On January 27, 1989, Roberts plead guilty to escape and kidnapping, was sentenced, and was
returned to the Indiana State Prison.
John Walsh interviewed Roberts after his capture. Roberts was asked how he felt after he had
been profiled in the AMW show. Roberts stated that he was under great pressure. He knew he
had to leave the New York area immediately. He did not know where to go. He could not go
back to the Chicago area because the police would be looking for him there.
John Walsh asked Roberts, How can you live with yourself knowing that you murdered two
adults and two infants? Roberts answered, I can live with myself because I am not guilty of
murdering anyone. Just because I was convicted does not mean that I am guilty.
Roberts further stated, The Americas Most Wanted program may have put persons who had
not committed any crime back in prison. How do you feel about that, sir? John Walsh did not
answer.
Roberts then stated, Mr. Walsh, I have had many despondent periods during my
incarceration but I try to keep my spirits up. I constantly ask God why all this has happened to
me. I hope that someday justice will at last prevail and someone out there will come forward
with information that proves my innocence.
David James Roberts is currently serving four concurrent life sentences at the Pendleton
Correctional Facility, Pendleton, Indiana. He is seventy years old.
Thus ends, for now, the extraordinary tale of David James Roberts.


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4. VALADICTORY AT HILLSDALE COLLEGE MAY 1950
BY JOHN R. BERGER

Fellow graduates, faculty, students, parents and friends of Hillsdale.
Having been honored as the speaker of the class of 1950, I am reminded of a few thoughts
other than just those of farewell, which I would like to touch briefly upon. Thoughts which
many of us, in anticipation of leaving Hillsdale, may have let slip to lesser places of importance
in our minds.
Some four years ago, here at Hillsdale, there came into being a group we today recognize
among us as the Class of 1950. Even the least observant of us could hardly have failed to sense
that a sort of experiment in education was about to unfold-that this class, unlike many preceding
classes, was a distinct mixture in that this gathering of individuals was different. Naturally, in
any assembly of persons, there are bound to be differences, but as I like to think of it, the
essential lack of sameness in the Class of 1950 lay in the wide variance of the ages and
experience of the members-rather a situation of two groups within a group.
Returned servicemen making up a goodly percentage of this class were undoubtedly plagued
with wondering whether they could make the necessary adjustments to college life and compete
scholastically and socially with younger students who had no break in their studies, and who
therefore, supposedly had fresher minds. On the other hand, those of us making up the younger
category, fresher minds or not, were unquestionably aware and perhaps a little in awe of the fact
that these older chaps had every reason to be surer in judgment, forced, rather they like it or not,
to mature almost overnight.
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Mixed sentiments necessarily pervaded the atmosphere of the classrooms. What chance had
we youngsters in that European History class against fellows whose knowledge of the continent
was as casually complete than was perhaps our own familiarity with our hometown back yards.
Small wonder that many of us were wrought with youthful misgivings as we hopefully
questioned the possibility of eventually blending together.
Yet, and despite all of the mutual uncertainties which might have existed at the beginning of
our years at Hillsdale, we, the Class of 1950 are now arrived at the eve of graduation, and I think
it is safe to say that the experiment has proved successful. Older and younger, maturely and
immaturely, weve rivaled one another, if for nothing else, the sheer fun of competition. Weve
aided each other as a group. Little by little weve melded our seeming disparateness to the point
where it is doubtful today whether our early differences were worthy of the special significance
we attached to them. Weve all attained a keener sense of balance and direction in the presence
of these extremes which were the origin of our class.
For most of us, graduation will appeal to our sense of practicality and we do well at this time
to contemplate our respective attitudes. Do we now feel, diploma at hand, that all doors swing in
one direction-that necessarily because we are about to become college graduates our futures are
automatically guaranteed?
In the past four years it has become easy for each of us to identify ourselves with this thing
called success. But we attained this success as part of a group-a flourishing, active body of
persons intent on a goal and assuredly bound for achievement. Now, in a few days, that goal
arrived, we concern ourselves with leaving our campus and we leave as we came-as individuals.
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It is because we leave as individuals that we should be reminded that there are certain time
proven personal qualities, which as ever, shall determine whether or not we succeed. As we all
know, our personalities are formed from the cultural mulch in which we are reared, and therefore
it would not be fair to ascribe to Hillsdale the complete responsibility for the kind of persons we
are. And yet, having reached the level we are assumed to be on, it is also assumed that we are
capable of recognizing the importance of such things as initiative, tolerance, diligence,
cooperativeness, and above all, integrity. These are personal qualities which, linked with our
college degree, will assure our success.
As always there are changes to be considered. We have much to take in stride with which
graduates of yesteryear had not to concern themselves. It is with an eye to the new complexities
of our age and the foreseeable future that we should take special stock of the personal attributes
mentioned. These attributes, and innumerable others, will always constitute the life blood of any
human endeavor, and we should remember that our college degree should not be regarded as
unchallengeable keys to the untold doors we shall attempt to enter, but rather as a means of
securing our admittance once we are inside.
We as a class look to the future with hope-hope for our continued success. It remains for the
future to tell whether our experiment will be successful-whether we can continue to fulfill the
trust that has been put in us.
Although we believe in our own capabilities, we hear on all sides that positions will be harder
to obtain than before; that the world is not eager for our future services; that life will not be as
easy as it was in the good old days. But before we dwell on these ideas too long, permit me to
read an excerpt from an editorial in The New Yorker magazine:
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We live in an unhappy age. This is apparent on every side. Literature is full of unhappiness.
Our most thoughtful novelists are gloomy. Our representative poets sing in a minor strain. Our
deepest philosophers confess the mystery of life, the insoluble character of its problems. Art,
too, is melancholy. What pictures rivet the modern gaze like those full of sadness and pathos.
What strains rivet the modern ear like those full of mystery and unrest. Life is unhappy. The
capitalist is insecure in his possessions, the laborer is discontented with his condition,
professional life abounds in disappointments and heart burnings. The spirit of the time is one of
sadness. We are continually advancing in culture and material improvements. But is there any
advance commensurate in the art of happy living? No. If anything, there is probably a decline in
this respect. No century, perhaps, is more characterized by unhappiness than this.
This editorial appeared seventy-one years ago, in 1879. It appeared in what we longingly call
the good old days-the century in which many of our contemporaries say they wish they had been
born. Thus we see that all generations of graduates look ahead with uncertainty, wishing that
they could be back in the better times of yesteryear. Will not the graduates fifty years from now
refer to our time as the good old days?
As we prepare to be graduated from Hillsdale, in our thoughts we inescapably begin to re-live
our college days-the friends we have made, the hours spent in studies and in leisure. We
remember the first timid days spent in exploring our new found college, our professors
understanding, guidance and help.
We remember our first friends, our first date, our first visit to the Arboretum. We re-live the
football games, the Spring formals, the hours of study and recitation. As we progressed through
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the years our friendships and understanding increased. We matured and worked together toward
our mutual goal-graduation.
It is with a sense of regret that we realize that we must now leave behind all of these
wonderful days and commit them to fond memories. We have merely been preparing for our
future-for the test to come. By far the greatest and most interesting part of our lives lies ahead.
Although we shall leave Hillsdale, we shall always remember and cherish our college days.
We shall always think of our years at Hillsdale as perhaps the best years of our lives. When we
leave soon, we will not say goodbye, but rather-till we meet again.















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5. PEGGY
TO MELISSA-A REMEMBRANCE
BY JACK BERGER
I often teased her that she was my favorite sister. She was four years older than I, and my
only sister-always beloved.
Peggy, my brother George, six years older than I, and I had normal childhoods. At least I
think we did-no fights, no jealousy, and no tantrums. If there were problems with Peggy, my
parents shielded me from them.
I do remember that when Peggy was about a freshman in high school she once put on a pretty
dress and makeup and asked me how she looked. I gave a casual answer that she looked all
right. Actually, I thought that she was very beautiful but I was embarrassed to express my true
feelings. I can still see her posing for me.
Peggy was graduated from St. Ursela Academy High School and then attended the University
of Cincinnati for her freshman year (1944-1945). She had a very active social life and did not
accumulate many credit hours. Peggy then attended and was graduated from Wheelock Junior
College in Boston. My brother George had been recently medically discharged from the Army,
had married Deeda Graves and had enrolled in Hillsdale College in Hillsdale, Michigan. My
parents thought that a change in environment might be good for Peggy and she also enrolled at
Hillsdale College. Her older brother could look after her.
Peggy did well in her studies and was a member of Pi Beta Phi Sorority. I joined George and
Peggy at Hillsdale as a freshman in the fall of 1946.
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At Hillsdale, Peggy met Phillip Baumgarten, the son of a wealthy businessman from Chicago.
They fell in love and were married. The marriage was at the Church of the Assumption in
Cincinnati, our parish church. The reception was an elaborate affair (probably my mothers idea)
at the Mackatewa Country Club. It was a beautiful evening, flowers everywhere, and with most
dressed in gowns and tuxedos. It was certainly a happy affair with beautiful Peggy at the center
of it all.

Following are photos of Peggy at her wedding; and of Peggy, her husband Phil, and her
grandparents, Petronella and George Berger.
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Peggy and Phil lived first in a small white house on the outskirts of Hillsdale. I would visit
with them often. Peggy did not continue her studies at Hillsdale and concentrated on being a
new bride. I did not have the opportunity to get to know Phil very well but he was always a
gentleman and had a ready handsome smile. They then moved to a beautiful house in Jackson,
Michigan. Phil was the successful owner of a small car carrier business. I did not see Peggy
very often during the next several years. I was busy with completing my undergraduate studies
at Hillsdale and obtaining my law degree. During my last semester at law school in February of
1953, I received the wonderful news that Peggy was pregnant and was expecting a baby in
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September. In those days you did not know the sex of the baby until birth but I was hoping that
she would have a girl-I was not disappointed.
I was graduated from law school in June of 1953 and returned home to Tanglewood at
Jimmerson Lake, Angola, to live with my parents until I was drafted into the Army in December.
Peggy also returned home to be with our parents in June of 1953. She and Phil had separated
and later obtained a divorce. Our parents were very supportive of Peggy and welcomed her into
their home and lives.
Peggy and I shared a guest room and bath which was attached to the garage behind the main
house. Peggy had a normal pregnancy and, all things considered, was always in good spirits.
She had a determination to not let things upset her and to be a good mother. One warm day in
early September Peggy wanted to go turtle hunting by boat in the third basis of Lake James.
Being the protective brother, I cautioned against such a trip as I thought that a bouncing boat
might precipitate early delivery. That did not bother Peggy and off we went. I was very nervous
and tried to avoid any large waves. It was a successful trip and we returned with three baby gray
back turtles.
Later on September 28, 1953, Peggy gave birth to a beautiful baby girl, Melissa, at Elmhurst
Hospital in Angola. Mom, Dad and I were present for this wondrous event.
In December of 1953 I had to leave for the Army and for the most part I was gone for two
years. I missed seeing Peggy and Melissa during this time. In early 1954 our parents helped
Peggy buy a home at LaGuna Park on Lake James for Peggy and Melissa. It was a happy time.
Later Peggy was courted by a friend that she had met at Hillsdale. His name was Carlton D.
McKenzie, Jr. (Mack). He and his father were the owners of a flour mill in Quincy, Michigan.
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They made the very successful McKenzies Famous Buckwheat Pancakes. Mack became a
good friend of mine. He was intelligent, sensitive and caring.
The courtship was successful. Our parents, Peggy and Melissa had been staying at Coco
Beach, Florida, for two months in the winter of 1955. I was still in the Army. Mack came down
for a visit and the rest as they say is history. Peggy and Mack were married in a simple
ceremony by a Justice of the Peace at the small county courthouse at Titusville, Florida. Mom
and Dad, and a barefooted one year old Melissa, were present. Melissa now had a loving father.

Melissa: My memory is not the greatest so some dates and facts may be a little off. I hope you
enjoy my remembrance of a wonderful sister and of you, my favorite niece.
January 30, 2013
Uncle Jack









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6. STATE OF INDIANA
COUNTY OF DEKALB
"PETITION TO HAVE TUBAL LIGATION PERFORMED ON MINOR
"Ora Spitler McFarlin, being duly sworn upon her oath states that she is the natural mother of
and has custody of her daughter, Linda Spitler, age fifteen (15) being born January 24, 1956 and
said daughter resides with her at 108 Iwo Street, Auburn, DeKalb County, Indiana.
"Affiant states that her daughter's mentality is such that she is considered to be somewhat
retarded although she is attending or has attended the public schools in DeKalb Central School
System and has been passed along with other children in her age level even though she does not
have what is considered normal mental capabilities and intelligence. Further, that said affiant has
had problems in the home of said child as a result of said daughter leaving the home on several
occasions to associate with older youth or young men and as a matter of fact having stayed
overnight with said youth or men and about which incidents said affiant did not become aware of
until after such incidents occurred. As a result of this behavior and the mental capabilities of said
daughter, affiant believes that it is to the best interest of said child that a Tubal Ligation be
performed on said minor daughter to prevent unfortunate circumstances to occur and since it is
impossible for the affiant as mother of said minor child to maintain and control a continuous
observation of the activities of said daughter each and every day.



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7.
THE RIGHT TO BEAR ARMS

John R. Berger, JD


AMENDMENT II (1791)

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the
people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Prior to 2008 the United States Supreme Court had not ruled on whether the Second
Amendment protected from infringement any individual right of the people to keep and bear
arms. The lower federal courts had consistently decided that the Second Amendment protected
from federal infringement only the collective right of the people to keep and bear arms as a
member of the militia and that no individual right to keep and bear arms was protected.
Therefore, a state could reasonably regulate the individual possession and use of arms under the
states police power (the right of a state to pass reasonable laws to protect the citizens health,
safety, morals and general welfare), subject to any limitations in the state constitution and subject
to the states judicial determination as to what is a reasonable regulation. Also, Congress could
reasonably regulate the individual possession and use of arms under the powers given Congress
in the commerce and necessary and proper clauses in the Constitution. No such federal or
state legislation would violate the Second Amendment.
All of this established interpretation of the Second Amendment was changed drastically by
the United States Supreme Court in the cases of District of Columbia v. Heller (2008) and
McDonald v, Chicago (2010). In addition to the collective right to bear arms as a member of the
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militia, the court established for the first time that there was also a pre-existing fundamental
individual right to bear arms which existed in 1791, and which right was protected from
infringement by the Second (federal action) and Fourteenth (state action) Amendments.
The Second Amendment does not create or grant the people any individual right to bear arms.
Rather than granting a right, it protects the people from having the pre-existing fundamental right
to bear arms taken away by the federal or state government. The United States Supreme Court in
Heller stated The very text of the Second Amendment implicitly recognizes the pre-existence of
the right and declares only that it shall not be infringed.
In contrast, many state constitutions establish such a right rather than protecting a pre-existing
right. As an example, the Indiana Constitution in Article 1, Section 32, states The people shall
have the right to bear arms, for the defense of themselves and the state.
The difficult decision is determining what this 1791 pre-existing individual right of the
people to keep and bear Arms as set forth in the Second Amendment and to bear arms, for the
defense of themselves as set forth in the Indiana and similar Constitutions mean, and what
restrictions on such a right may be imposed. The Heller decision states that such a pre-existing
right was not to keep and carry any weapon whatsoever in any manner whatsoever and for
whatever purpose.
What do keep, bear, and arms mean? The Heller and McDonald decisions attempted to
answer this question and delineate some of the parameters of this individual right. Both involved
the constitutionality of laws prohibiting the possession of handguns in the home. The United
States Supreme Court decided (5-4) as a general principal that there were fundamental pre-
existing individual rights to possess and carry weapons in case of confrontation, and to use a
firearm for traditionally lawful purposes, such as self defense in the home. The court ruled that
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prohibition by the federal or state government on the possession of handguns in the home for self
defense violates (infringes upon) the right to possess and carry arms protected by the Second
Amendment as to federal action and incorporated in the Fourteenth Amendment as to state
action. These decisions were limited to an examination only of the laws prohibiting possession
of handguns in the home. The constitutionality of some permissible limitations on the
possession of weapons was set forth in the Heller opinion in dicta. The Court stated: We do
not read the Second Amendment to protect the right of citizens to carry arms for any sort of
confrontation. Like most rights, the right secured by the Second Amendment is not unlimited.
From Blackstone through the 19th-century cases, commentators and courts routinely explained
that the right was not a right to keep and carry any weapon whatsoever in any manner
whatsoever and for whatever purpose. For example, the majority of the 19th-century courts to
consider the question held that prohibitions on carrying concealed weapons were lawful under
the Second Amendment. Although we do not undertake an exhaustive historical analysis today
of the full scope of the Second Amendment, nothing in our opinion should be taken to cast doubt
on longstanding prohibitions on the possession of firearms by felons and the mentally ill, or laws
forbidding the carrying of firearms in sensitive places such as schools and government buildings,
or laws imposing conditions and qualifications on the commercial sale of arms. The Court
further stated as to the personal use and possession of firearms We also recognize another
important limitation on the right to keep and carry arms. The sorts of weapons protected were
those in common use at the time and carrying of dangerous and unusual weapons can be
prohibited. Further, the Second Amendment does not protect those weapons not typically
possessed by law-abiding citizens for lawful purpose.

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The District of Columbia law banned all handguns in the district and the Chicago law
effectively banned all handguns in Chicago by registration provisions which had the practical
effect of banning most handguns in the city. The Heller and McDonald decisions struck down
the District of Columbia and Chicago laws because such laws would prohibit handguns in the
home for the purpose of self-defense. The court did not decide if the laws banning handguns
outside of the home in the District of Columbia and Chicago were constitutional.
The minority of four in Heller would have upheld the banning of handguns in the home in an
urban society and thought that the major underlying value and purpose of the right to bear arms
set forth in the Second Amendment was to protect the militias. There was fear that the right of
Congress to regulate militias as set forth in Article I would allow Congress to weaken or disband
militias, and therefore the Founders wanted to protect militias. The minority recognized that the
individual right to bear arms for self defense was important in primarily rural America but, in
light of changing circumstances to an urban society, this right can be limited because of the
greater risk of taking lives. Protecting innocent lives by banning urban handguns does not
disproportionally burden the interest the Second Amendment seeks to protect, self defense.
Therefore, according to the minority, the right to possess a handgun is not now a fundamental
right and is not incorporated in the Second Amendment or substantive due process clause as to
either federal or state action.
Those opposed to any regulation of the personal use and possession of weapons often cite The
Federalist Papers, written by James Madison, Alexander Hamilton and John Jay, Numbers 29
and 46, as authority for the unregulated personal right to bear arms. To support this claim, words
and phrases, such as the advantage of being armed, which the Americans possess over the
people of almost every other nation, are taken out of context, and a careful reading of the
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complete papers easily discloses the error. All references to the right to bear arms in The
Federalist Papers are to the collective right to bear arms as a member of the organized militia.
There is no discussion of a personal right to bear arms. The U. S. Supreme Court in the Heller
and McDonald decisions properly and correctly did not refer to The Federalist Papers as
authority for recognizing a personal right to bear arms.
At the time that the Constitution was being considered by the state conventions, the anti-
federalists were afraid that the Constitution gave excessive power to the federal government and
wanted a Bill of Rights added to the Constitution by amendment. In order to have the
Constitution approved, it was agreed to add such amendments although the exact rights to be
included had not yet been determined. The only reference in The Federalist Papers to any
proposed Bill of Rights was in No. 84 which argued that no such Bill of Rights was needed.
The anti-federalists were afraid that the following powers of Congress provisions in the
proposed Constitution, Article 1, Section 8 cls 15-16:
(15) To provide for calling forth the militia to execute the laws of the union, suppress
insurrections and repel invasions;
(16) To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining, the militia, and for governing such part
of them as may be employed in the service of the United States, reserving to the states
respectively, the appointment of the officers, and the authority of training the militia according to
the discipline prescribed by Congress;
would give Congress the power to disarm the militias and impose rule through a standing army
or select militia. In order to allay such fears and to counteract any such action the Second
Amendment was proposed and later adopted. The first portion of the amendment would protect
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the militias and the collective right to bear arms, and allow the militia to traditionally defend
against insurrection and invasion, and also to defend against their own governments unlikely
tyranny.
The Federalist Papers in No. 29 argues that the anti-federalists have no need to be concerned
about the above Section 8 clauses in the proposed Constitution, and explains favorably the
interrelationship of the militias and the proposed federal government pursuant to the above
Section 8 clauses. In No 29 there is no discussion of the personal right to bear arms.
The anti-federalists were also afraid that the proposed federal government would have power
to weaken the authority of the states. The Federalist Papers No. 46 argues that the states should
have no fear of the new federal government as the states have the capacity to resist in many ways
any ambitious encroachments of the federal government. Among such means of resisting would
be the state militias with arms in their hands. This is the only mention in The Federalist Papers
of any right to bear arms and it was restricted to arms used by the militia and not for personal
use.
In conclusion, except for the possession of handguns in the home for self defense and the use
of firearms for other traditionally lawful purposes (such as hunting, competitions, collecting and
target practice), as set forth in Heller and McDonald, the U.S. Supreme Court has decided that
laws can be constitutionally passed which place reasonable restrictions on the personal use and
possession of weapons, and which reasonably restrict personal ownership to the sorts of weapons
in common use at that time. What are the sorts of weapons in common use at that time and
what are reasonable restrictions are of course the difficult decisions that the legislatures will be
asked to determine, the constitutionality of which will be decided ultimately by the state and
federal courts. Since the Heller and McDonald decisions, the U.S. Circuit Courts of Appeals
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have decided both ways on the issue of whether weapons for self defense can be possessed
outside of the home.

Note: Two possible references were not cited or discussed by the U.S. Supreme Court:

1. The 1870s prohibition of all weapons possession in Dodge City (which included Miss Kittys
Long Branch Saloon) by U.S. Marshall Matt Dillon.

2. The 1857 majority opinion of Chief Justice Roger B. Taney in the Dred Scott case wherein he
stated that if persons of the negro race were recognized as citizens it would give them the right
to keep and carry arms wherever they went.

8.
THE FOUNDING FATHERS
John R. Berger, JD

They came by ship or horse and stagecoach over narrow and muddy dirt roads. It had been
an exceptionally wet spring in 1787 and travel over the muddy roads to Philadelphia by some
delegates took as long as two weeks. The delegates had been sent to participate in a Convention
in Philadelphia as representatives of twelve of the thirteen states. They were instructed by their
legislatures to only make some minor changes to the 1781 Articles of Confederation which had
proven inadequate to establish a central government. The Articles provided for one Congress
with each state entitled to one vote. There was no executive, no federal courts, no way to
enforce laws, no way to raise money except by gift, and no commerce power.
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The delegates consisted of fifty-five men from twelve states (Rhode Island was not
represented). They were of varied backgrounds, opinions and beliefs. They came from large and
small states. Forty-two had served in the Continental Congress. The average age was forty-four.
At the time of the Convention many men pursued multiple careers simultaneously. Twenty-nine
had undergraduate degrees. Twenty-nine had studied law. Fourteen were merchants. Ten were
in banking and finance. Sixteen were farmers. Twenty-five owned slaves.
The delegates officially met for the first time on May 25, 1787, in the Assembly Room of the
Pennsylvania State House (later called Independence Hall), a room 40 feet by 40 feet with
fourteen tables for the state representatives and the secretary, and a central table with a
handsome, high-backed mahogany chair for the president of the Convention. The central table
was the same table upon which the Declaration of Independence had been signed eleven years
earlier. The high, wide windows on the north and south sides of the room were kept closed so
that the deliberations would not be overheard. The delegates would meet, including weekends,
for one hundred and fifteen days-many of which in July and August were very humid with
temperatures averaging above ninety degrees in the chambers. It was in such circumstances that
these men of wisdom and common sense created, against their express instructions when
appointed, an entirely new document and Constitution that would establish a new national
government.
Against a background of strong and conflicting views concerning states rights, the respective
rights of small and large states, the right of the people to participate in national government, the
powers to be granted to the national government, and slavery, the delegates undertook the
daunting task of creating a national government and establishing a Constitution.
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There were no other constitutions or forms of government which could be a model to guide
the delegates. The delegates, despite their instructions to only modify the Articles of
Confederation, would create an entirely new form of popular government.
Among the myriad difficult and divisive issues to be decided by the delegates were:
(1) How should the national government be structured? Should there be a unicameral or
bicameral legislature? Should the legislature be appointed or elected, and by whom? How many
members should there be and what should be the length of terms, compensation, qualifications
and powers?
(2) Should there be an executive branch and if so, should the head of the executive branch be
one person or a committee? What should be the term, the compensation, and the qualifications
of the executive? How should the executive be selected-by the people, by the federal or state
legislatures, by Electors? What should be the powers of the executive?
(3) What courts should be created? Should judges of the courts be appointed or elected, and
by whom? What should be the term, compensation and qualifications of judges? What should
be the courts jurisdiction and powers?
(4) Should slavery be abolished? Should slaves be able to vote? Should they be considered
in determining the number of Representatives? What should be the rights of slaves who were in
free states?
But decide they did. The delegates melded their seeming disparateness and on September 17,
1787, the final draft of the Constitution was signed. It had taken the delegates only one hundred
and fifteen days to create our magnificent Constitution. In making their decisions, the delegates
valued persuasion over rigid unyielding defense of preferences or interests. Reasoned arguments
were substituted for the simple tallying of votes dictated by constituents preferences. The
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delegates, after their deliberations, made their decisions based upon what they thought was best
for the community common good-they were not be bound by the majority preferences. James
Madison believed that the process of deliberation could produce results different from, and
superior to, any other ideas that representatives might have brought with them to an assembly.
Those in Congress now, and those who aspire to represent the people, who hold rigid,
unyielding preferences or interests, and who sign pledges to never vary from preconceived
opinions and positions, are doing an indefensible disservice to their country and to the spirit of
deliberation and compromise which was the catalyst to the formation of our nation.
The Founding Fathers envisioned governance as a process of deliberation by statesmen
with diverse backgrounds, convictions, and aspirations which would make possible a form of
decision making unavailable through any other form of decision making. Representatives who
see the world through very different lenses could help each other see more clearly. Our
Representatives must be willing to change their minds and yield to the force of the better
argument for the public good.
From that monumental day in September of 1787, we the people have been entrusted with the
awesome task of governance. The problems facing our nation today are small compared to the
daunting task accomplished by the delegates. Let us now learn from them. It is not too late for
our representatives, with impartial concern for the public good, to be truly statesmen, to follow
the example of The Founding Fathers, and to fulfill their trust and vision.

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CENTENNIAL HALL PHILADELPHIA 1787