Life at 9200rpms: Neil Armstrong, Bill Mauldin and his Grieving Lincoln drawing

      When Neil Armstrong, the first man to set foot on the moon, died last week, it marked the passing of a quiet, capable man.  For all of us on Earth, he fulfilled the dream of space travel and all that encompasses.  

      Armstrong along with Apollo astronauts Michael Collins and Buzz Aldrin did what President Kennedy said the United States would do: put a man on the moon by decade's end.

    JFK was killed before the statement came true.  The death of Armstrong reminded me where I was at the time of the President's death in November, 1963.   Most of us who were aware of what happened can recall where we were when we heard the news of Kennedy's death.  

     I was working at the Chicago Sun-Times newspaper when the rare Associated Press news "flash" bells sounded on the teletype machines in the paper's wire room.

   I handed the flash AP copy to the managing editor on duty at the news desk.  It was after 1 p.m. and the morning paper's first edition deadline was only a couple of hours away.  The usual cacophony of the city room quieted as the five bells of the flash message sounded first at the shooting of JFK and then announcing his death in Dallas.

     At the time I didn't know what was happening a mile north in an apartment at State St. and North Av., where Bill Mauldin, a two time Pulitzer prize winning editorial cartoonist, was creating a memorable editorial drawing of  another assassinated president, Abraham Lincoln.  

     The drawing showed Lincoln as he is in the Lincoln Memorial, seated and looking out over the reflective pool on the Mall in Washington.

     Mauldin's drawing showed Lincoln with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, grieving at the news of Kennedy's death.  It was at once simple and complete.  The drawing conveyed the whole message.

     I was working as a copy boy for the paper for a little over two months. Copy boys were the all purpose utility infielders of the newsroom, distributing copy produced by reporters and rewrite men, running errands, in short, doing all the grunt work.

    It was raining in Chicago that afternoon.  It was a soaking rain. I was assigned to go by cab to Mauldin's apartment and bring back his drawing in time for the first edition.  I got cab fare from the assistant city editor, who gave me the address and told me to call the city desk when I had the "package." 

     At Mauldin's North State Parkway apartment building, I took the elevator to an upper floor and was met at the door by Mauldin. He invited me into the apartment, which had a good view of Lincoln Park to the north.

     He offered me coffee as he retrieved the drawing, "the package."  He showed me the Grieving Lincoln and it's impact was immediate.  Quite a statement.

    I finished the mug of coffee, called the city desk, and took my leave.  Mauldin found a document tube and slipped the "package" into it. 

     The cab ride back to the paper took only five or six minutes.  I kept the package out of the rain under my coat.  I felt like I was delivering a treasure.

     The first edition of the paper, which is tabloid size, told the news of he President's death on page one and the Grieving Lincoln covered the entire back page.  What a statement.

     

Life at 9200rpms: The Great Drayton Bank Robbery

      This is another in a series of recollections about my time as a trial lawyer in North Dakota.  The story is made possible by my LVAD, a left ventricular assist device, that helps my heart pump 24/7.  I recommend anyone suffering from congestive heart failure to learn more about LVADs.  Mine is manufactured by Thoratec Inc. of Pleasanton, California.

      The case at hand involves one of the FBI's Ten Most Wanted, who was captured February 19, 1987, after robbing the State Bank of Drayton, North Dakota (pop. 824).  Drayton is home to one of American Crystal Sugar Co's sugar beet processing plants that dot the Red River Valley. 

     Thomas George Harrelson, the mastermind, was 29 when he and his two accomplices robbed the bank of $2,807.  During the trial of one of the robbers, the evidence showed the trio had one penny between them before robbing the bank.  They were down to their last cent after putting gas in their uniquely outfitted getaway car.

     The trio did not count on being pursued by an irate banker, who commandeered the car of a bank depositor outside the bank and had her "follow that car." The robbers fled across the Red River into Minnesota and got stuck in a snowbank.  

     They flagged down an unsuspecting farmer, driving a large farm truck taking a load of grain to an elevator. The farmer, his wife, and two of their grandchildren were taken hostage by the robbers.  There were seven persons in the cab of the truck when police and sheriff's deputies finally got the vehicle stopped.

     Bank president Kelly Bakken gave chase to the robbers car, which had a wheelchair strapped to the trunk.  Harrelson shot himself in the  knee sometime during his bank robbery spree that covered 18 months and six states from Arkansas to Illinois to Ohio and finally to North Dakota. 

      He used the wheelchair because he  never sought medical attention for the wound and his leg was bent sharply at the knee so he couldn't walk.  His confederates were Stuart Skarda and Cynthia Ehrlich.

     Harrelson, who was linked to neo-Nazis in Northern Idaho, pleaded guilty to the six bank robberies and received a sentence of more than 34 years.  Ehrlich also pleaded guilty and received a six year prison sentence.  Skarda stood trial and, after being found guilty by a jury, was sentenced to prison for 11 years.

     During Skarda's trial, Kelly Bakken testified that something in him snapped as the bank was being robbed. He said he felt he had to protect the bank's deposits.

     When the trio fled in their wheelchair toting car, Bakken approached a depositor in her car at the curb.  He got in the car and ordered her to "follow that car."   She said that her car's transmission was "iffy" and Bakken said he assured her the bank would buy her a new transmission, if necessary.  

     Bakken and the bank customer pursued the getaway car north out of Drayton and then east across a river bridge into Minnesota.  He said they kept the car in view and when the farm truck became the getaway vehicle, he chased it.  

     The robbers were armed and presumably would have shot at their pursuers.  Despite his efforts the $2807 in bank robbery proceeds were held as evidence until the court proceedings were concluded.

     Moral of the story is never underestimate the resolve of an irate North Dakota bank president when his bank has just been robbed.

     

Life at 9200rpms: Raquel Welch: A Case of Mistaken Identity

     This post is another in a series of recollections from my time as an assistant U.S. attorney.  This entry is made possible by my Thoratec manufactured HeartMate II, LVAD, number 8358, which has kept me alive since April 2, 2010.  I am on a heart transplant waiting list at the University of Minnesota.

     The case at hand involved charges of rape against two young men from what was then called the Devils Lake Sioux Indian Reservation.  It is now the Spirit Lake Indian Reservation.  From the government's perspective, the evidence was straightforward and convincing.  

     Both men were scheduled to change their pleas to guilty but at the last minute they balked.  The judge set the case for the following week and ruled that each defendant would be tried separately.  That meant that all of the witnesses would have to testify in both trials.  For the victim, it meant a double dose of stress from having to recount the incident for two separate juries over a week long period.  
  
  The reason the case was in federal court was because the federal government had jurisdiction. Jurisdiction was based on the federal Major Crimes Act, which provided that crimes against Native American Indians involving Indians as the accused can be tried in U.S. District Court.  This case was assigned for the trial to the Grand Forks quadrant of North Dakota because the Indian Reservation is located in the northeast quarter of the state.

     The accused were Daniel Stacey Makesgood and Clayton (Stubby) Dubois, both about 19 years old.  Makesgood was tried first.  The victim was about the same age.  Drinking was involved. All had been high school classmates.

     Makesgood was found guilty by the jury and his case was set for sentencing.

     As Dubois' trial proceeded, his lawyer, H. Holland Galloway,  Holly to friends and acquaintances, called his client to testify in his own defense.  Consent was the issue.  Did the victim consent to having sex with him?

    Galloway, who was not the most capable criminal defense lawyer, caused a stir when he misidentified the victim in his questioning.  He referred to her as Racquel Welch, the well known celebrity, sex symbol, and movie actress.  Ms. Welch once appeared in a movie wearing an animal skin bikini for the British- release movie One Million Years B.C. in 1966. 

     Of course Ms. Welch was not the victim's name--not even close.

    I objected without saying  why and the trial judge, Paul Benson, summoned the lawyers to the bench. I didn't have to spell out what the basis for my objection was.  The judge took up the cudgels and Galloway got a lecture and was ordered to continue his examination.  

     The very next question contained the name Racquel Welch. At another sidebar at the bench and out of the hearing of the jury, Judge Benson lectured Galloway again.   The judge said, "Mr. Galloway, there is no witness in this case by that name.  The victim's name is XYZ, not Racquel Welch."  In essence, the judge said, get your act together.

     The entire courtroom was in disbelief when Galloway misnamed the victim a third time.  I thought the judge would hold the lawyer in contempt, he was that upset.  This time at the bench when Judge Benson said again what Galloway had done, Galloway clapped his open hand to his forehead.  The slap sounded like a muffled pistol shot.  

     I glanced at the jury as Galloway made his move.  The panel knew exactly what was happening and Galloway knew the jury knew.  Embarrassment does not begin to describe what he must have felt.

   Galloway finished his examination and I began my cross.  I wanted to say:  "Mr. Dubois, you didn't. have sex with Racquel Welch did you?"  I wanted to add but "you would have liked to, wouldn't you."  I kept my mouth shut on the point and generally chewed up Dubois.  Makesgood had testified that he heard the victim's cries for help and his response was to turn up the volume on the radio to drown her out.  

     The second jury found Dubois guilty.  One the day of sentencing, Galloway slunk into the courtroom. The sting he must have felt had lingered.  He made a perfunctory argument concerning sentencing. When the hearing was over, Galloway beat feet for the exit.  He never stopped to talk with his client.  I never saw him in federal court again.  Just as well.

     The judge sentenced each of the defendants to eight years in prison.  They never appealed.  I learned that Galloway went back to his mostly office law practice.  He was the lawyer for the Grand Forks water board.  Fitting, I'd say.

     

     

Life at 9200 rpms: shift colors

     "Shift colors" is a Navy term that generally means a change in a ship's flag flying status.  It's when the American flag on a Navy ship is moved from flying above the bridge on a flagstaff to a lower point on the ship's fantail, signifying that the ship is docked, pier side, or at anchor in a harbor.  

     When the Navy ship gets underway, when anchors are aweigh, the colors are shifted from the fantail to a flag staff above the height of the bridge.  The bo'sun pipes a single long tone and passes the word "Underway. Shift colors."  

     The process is orderly and takes several sailors to complete moving the flag.  In reality there are two national ensigns, one for in port use and another for use underway or steaming.

     In my case, I shifted colors on 18 August from heart transplant wait list status 1-A (head of the line) to 1-B(the next category in line). There was no fanfare, no bo'sun's pipe.  But all is good.  I was not fortunate to obtain the gift of a new heart during my 30 days.  So be it.

     My confidence remains solid.  My LVAD coordinator said that in his experience most LVADs receive their transplants while in 1-B status.  I am solidly confident only because I'm alive and well thanks to my mechanical blood circulation device,  which remains a marvel of modern medicine and surgery to me and other LVAD owners.  

     Thanks to my HeartMate II, no. 8358.  It has been two years, four months, and 18 days since Mayo surgeons hooked me up.  Physicians and nurses at the University of Minnesota have cared for me since then.

     In honor of "shifting colors," I intend to go fly fishing tonight along the lake shore from my Port-a-bote.  Thoreau once wrote something to the effect that some men go fishing all their lives and never realize its not the fish they're after. You are absolutely right, Mr. Thoreau.

The fast lane: My lifeat9200rpms: D-Day -1

     "Bridge to transplant" or "Destination therapy."  Just a few years ago those terms were not in the lexicon let alone within the awareness of those suffering from congestive heart failure.

     Congestive heart failure is usually progressive and irreversible. In the recent past, within 10 years, a diagnosis of CHF was a terminal diagnosis.  A heart transplant was the only solution. Donor hearts are in short supply so the end was clear.  Without a transplant, the body's systems, particularly the kidneys and liver, began to fail. The end result was the end.  There were no alternatives.

     But the biomedical community stepped up, entered the fray, and developed mechanical circulatory support devices.  Thoratec Inc., of Pleasanton, California, invested blood, sweat, and tears into the design and perfection of the present left ventricular assist device.  I have one.  It works efficiently and effectively.  Since April 2, 2010, my HeartMate II, numbered 8358, has kept me alive and kept alive my quest for a new heart.

     In early 2010, The U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved Thoratec's HeartMate II (LVAD) as the only medically implantable device for both "bridge to transplant" and "destination therapy."  There are other LVAD's but only the HeartMate II has FDA approval. The approval came after lengthy, detailed testing, experimental studies, and human trials.  The testing, studies, and trials are ongoing with the aim of improving the LVAD.

     For example, no one knows for sure how long an LVAD will last.  One friend has had one for more than five years, without failure.

     From the examination of HeartMate II pumps recovered after heart transplants, I'm told that Thoratec investigators found that there was negligible wear on the ruby bearings in the pump.  Since the pump has one moving part, the life span of the bearings is a critical function.  Based on the wear and tear found on "used" LVADs, the bearings have an estimated life span of up to 65 years.

    So as I approach the final hours of my 1-A status on the transplant waiting list, I am confident that I'm going to last on my "bridge to transplant." Taking advantage of my head of the line position for 30 days, doesn't spell the end of the story. Without my LVAD, I'd have no confidence in the outcome.  With it I can enjoy life. 

Life at 9200 rpm's: Day 25 as a 1-A

     Today is Day 25 of 30 on the 1-A transplant waiting list at the University of Minnesota Hospital.

    The 1-A status ends Saturday and with it the high alert status.  Since, I'm told, most patients receive transplants while listed as 1-B, alert status is somewhat more relaxed.  

    I have a friend awaiting a heart transplant at Abbott Northwestern in Minneapolis.  He just left his 30 days as a 1-A, and never got any calls.  It happens.

    If a donor heart becomes available for me, my LVAD has made it possible for the last two years, four months and 12 days.  I'm waiting and remain hopeful. 

Life at 9200 rpm's: Sisters under the skin

     The death this week of longtime editor of Cosmopolitan magazine, Helen Gurley Brown, at age 90 called to mind a brief vignette from the 1970's when I was a general assignment reporter for The Chicago Sun-Times newspaper.  

     Thanks to my LVAD, left ventricular assist device, a HeartMate II, No. 8358, I am here to recall the events that follow.  Without old 8358, there would be no As You Were: HeartMate II blog and no number of rpm's would have mattered.  

     In short, my LVAD has been a life saver.  My only hope is that more end stage congestive heart failure patients seek an LVAD.  Life is good.

    Back to the story at hand.  My friend and Sun-Times colleague, Paul Galloway, and I were assigned one day to cover a talk by National Organization of Women and other supporters of the Equal Rights Amendment. 

     The gathering was to be held at Northwestern University in Evanston, the first suburb north of Chicago. It was evening. 

    My assignment was to report any police aspects and counter demonstrator aspects of the story and Galloway was to write a feature story about the content of the speeches. There were no counter demonstrators, no arrests, nothing but speeches. In the end, the story was written jointly.
     
     Ms magazine, under Gloria Steinem, had just launched. Steinem was a very popular figure.  She once wrote an expose of Playboy Club bunnies after working as one.  She recounted an attitude of repression against women and of course sexism. 

    The Equal Rights Amendment cleared Congress in March, 1972. Eventually, 35 state approved the amendment, which is three short of the states required for ratification to make it an amendment to the Constitution. The landmark decision in Roe v. Wade would be decided in 1973.

     Betty Friedan, author of The Feminine Mystique, was scheduled to speak at NU, along with Steinem and others. I recall it was summer and hot.

     I arrived early at Fisk Hall auditorium on the south end of the NU campus.  Fisk housed the Medill School of Journalism, of which I was familiar from graduate school days.  Paul arrived in short order and we took seats front and center of the 500 seat auditorium.

    Before the speakers began the program, I glanced around and saw that Paul and I were the only males in attendance.  While neither Galloway nor I outwardly supported the movement.  As detached reporters it would have compromised that detachment.

     I commented on my observation about us being the only men present. He confirmed my observation.  We were good with that.

     Steinem talked for a few minutes and then introduced the first speaker.  As she scanned the audience, she mentioned the two men present in a non-sarcastic tone:  "And we have two men in the front row...no doubt sisters under the skin."