7-Up & The Academic Beard
Episode 06:05:2023 - Prompt: Law
Where Law took me…
In 1964, the British filmmaker & director, Michael Apted, began a series of documentaries called Seven-Up! (sometimes called “The Up Series.”)
The concept was this:
Interview a group of children from various backgrounds at the age of 7 and follow up with them every 7 years. In the first film, the children were asked:
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Answers were astronaut, clerk at Woolworths, married with two children, “I want to see my daddy”, and “I don’t really want to answer that.”
What does this have to do with Law?
I was seven in 1978, 14 years after the first Up interviews. I don’t recall ever being asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.
It didn’t seem to be a 70s question. I imagine we would have rolled our eyes at the thought of it.
However, I do remember filling out a questionnaire with the following answer:
I want to be a lawyer.
Which brings me to my first case at jury duty.
One of my favorite courtroom dramas is
12 Angry Men. All but three-minutes of the film take place in the jury deliberation room where a group of… note the title…. debate the innocence or guilt of a teen accused of murder.
Their decision was based on reasonable doubt, which is, of course, subjective.
I wanted to be in that jury room, deliberating evidence.
So when I was called into the same Manhattan District courthouse for jury duty, I was an easy choice for juror after the voir dire and was asked to report.
The case was about theft and holding someone against his will in his own home. There was a defendant, in his twenties, and a victim/witness, in his thirties.
Without getting into the details of what happened - because ultimately there were very few - my story is about the jury room.
It was clear to all but two of us that there was no sufficient evidence to prove the defendant even entered the witness’ apartment.
There was a bit of CCTV footage of them at an ATM machine, but there was no indication of anyone being forced.
The lawyer for the defense asked the witness many questions about the event. None seemed to add up.
In fact, he was most concerned with an expensive camera with no receipt of purchase being stolen while he was locked in his bathroom by the defendant.
We deliberated for two days. Reviewed the scant physical evidence over and over.
And still the two jurors held out.
Why?
Because they didn’t believe a college educated person could lie.
The defendant had not finished high school and was a “hustler”.
The witness had a college degree.
That was it.
These two jurors, both professors, one at private and the other at public universities, were certain the witness wasn’t lying.
We were a hung jury!
The judge and defense lawyer were perplexed.
Afterwards, the lawyer asked me what happened, knowing he would have to prepare the trial again and didn’t want to repeat his mistake.
I said, “Avoid bearded academics for the jury.”
YOUR TURN: I found it challenging to settle on a Law story where I was present and a participant. I have a lot of anecdotes about Law but most are about other people or things I’ve read.
I also thought about the Law of nature and cats.
Where does LAW take you? There are no wrong answers here. I swear.
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In 1958, my husband and I arrived at the University of Alabama where he was to be a visiting artist. It was the year after George Wallace stood in the door to the University to prevent the University being desegregated and Klan members and state police surrounded the campus. We soon discovered that the town and gown relationship was rather “strained “as it was seen as a hotbed of liberalism and antithesis to the values of the community.
It was late August and unbearably hot, so we headed to Miami Beach. Both of us tan easily and by the time we returned to campus we were coffee brown. When Mel applied, he had sent them a photograph, but it was somewhat bleached in tone. The look of shock on the faces of the community was quite amusing. They kept asking “from what part of India do you come?” hoping that they hadn’t inadvertently hired a “negro”. Our skin color and Jewish- New York roots were not working in our favor.
One evening early on we decided to see a film at one of the local movie houses. We purchased our tickets and found our seats. Shortly thereafter an usher came up to us with a flashlight and said we would have to leave. We were confused and asked why. He said, “It’s the law”, whites are not allowed in colored theatres and if we were seen, there would be serious consequences. Thus, our introduction to the contradictions in the South.
I was raised in a lily-white American suburb. The only direct experience I had with The Law - meaning police officers - was when one came to my elementary school class to talk with us. I think it may have been a show-and-tell, some kid's Dad telling us about what it's like to be on the force. He was friendly, fun, and white. Other than that, I'd read about Mr. Friendly Policeman in children's books, and was told by adults to trust The Law - police were helpful and would take good care of us. I had no reason to question this, especially because the one time I was pulled over as a teenager (cracked brake light), the policeman was friendly, funny and white. He let me off with a warning.
In my mid-thirties, I moved to Washington, DC to work in a shelter for homeless, pregnant women. Not one of those women trusted cops. Not one had ever had a positive interaction with a cop. In stark contrast to my experiences with Officer Friendly, these women had been taught as children to mistrust and fear The Law. As adults, they had been roughly handled and lied about by The Law. I was shocked by their vehemence; they were incredulous at my trust. It was my first understanding of my privilege and how it had sheltered me.