The Swoon Factor

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Today marks the 50^th anniversary of the assassination of John F. “Jack” Kennedy, the 35^th President of the United States.  All week, Captain and I have been watching some very interesting PBS documentaries on his life and rise to power.  One segment dealt with Kennedy’s first political race in the 1950’s, a congressional seat representing Boston.  At that point in time, he was very young for a politician, only in his early thirties, but he had several things going for him - he had come back from World War II a hero for saving the crew on the motor torpedo boat PT-109; he was from one of the most prominent and wealthy families in America; he was smart, witty and suave…… AND, he was very good looking.

In those days, women had the right to vote, but the mechanics of campaigning and the machinery of politics were pretty much left up to the men.  Kennedy’s mother and sisters, however, decided that if they could get Jack in front of groups of women, his looks and charm would win them over.  They orchestrated teas and solicited women’s groups offering Jack as a speaker for their meetings. His presence captivated them, creating legions of female supporters. This “swoon factor” ultimately played a significant role in his very close election over Richard Nixon in 1960.

Watching this part of the documentary reminded me of a story about great Granddaddy Schaefer and Mamaw Mary. 

On April 18 in 1965, Olin D. Johnston, a U.S. Senator from South Carolina, died.  At the time, a man named Donald Russell was Governor of the state and he resigned that post, which elevated the Lieutenant Governor, Robert E. McNair, to the governorship. McNair immediately appointed Russell to fill the vacancy left by Johnston’s death until a special election could be held.  This might not seem too out of the ordinary except that when campaigning for governor, Russell had specifically stated he had no intentions of using the position of governor as a stepping stone to higher office.  When he turned around and did that very thing, many people in the state became enraged. The special election was slated for November of 1966.

On the Democratic Party side, Russell was challenged by Ernest F. “Fritz” Hollings, a personal political nemesis who had already defeated him once for governor in 1958.  South Carolina was, and still is, a small state where many of the men in leadership positions knew each other from days in college, law school and military service.  Granddaddy Schaefer was acquainted with both Donald Russell and “Fritz” Hollings, but he decided to join Russell as the head of the Greenville County campaign.

Granddaddy approached his job with enthusiasm.  He organized barbecues and helped canvass door to door.   For weeks, the dining room table at 3 Lakecrest lay useless to its intended purpose what with all the pamphlets and campaign materials stacked all over it.  In the evenings, Mamaw Mary would ask Granddaddy how he thought things were going.

“I have a good feeling about this, Mary,” he’d reply.  “Things are looking real positive. I think we just might win this race.”

One Saturday morning, Mamaw Mary drove down from 3 Lakecrest to Stone Plaza Shopping Center for her hair appointment at the local beauty salon.  While there, sitting under the dryer along with several other ladies, in walked “Fritz” Hollings.  He was an extremely handsome man, a native of Charleston with the distinct infatuating brogue indigenous to the low country of South Carolina.  He shook each woman’s hand and asked them for their vote.  Curlers and all, they were mesmerized.

That night after dinner, as Granddaddy reported the progress in the campaign, Mamaw Mary dropped the bomb.

“Schaefer,” she said somberly, “I hate to say this, but Donald Russell is not going to win.”

Granddaddy was shocked that she would say this.

“What makes you think so?”

“Well, Fritz Hollings came into the beauty parlor today…..I’m just saying.”

Granddaddy chuckled.  After all, what did Mamaw Mary know about politics?  Really?

Hollings defeated Russell in the Democratic primary for the remaining two years of the term. He then won the special election. He won the seat for a full term in 1968, and was re-elected five more times, serving until 2003.

I don’t think Granddaddy ever fully grasped the “Swoon Factor” and I know for sure that, until the day she died, he never knew for whom Mamaw Mary voted…..rather imagine it’s that way for all eternity, too.   At least Greenville County went for Russell.

One Question Too Many

Dear Boo and Bubble,

You have quite a lawyer legacy in your lineage, starting with great, great Uncle Gene, then great granddaddy Schaefer, then granddaddy Captain and now your father.  All the lawyer jokes notwithstanding, it is a very honorable profession upon which our justice system heavily depends. All in your family have distinguished themselves in their practice of law as partners in some very prestigious firms and as officers of the Bar.  But every now and then, they - like every lawyer - can find themselves in a moment where none of that matters.

Your great granddaddy Schaefer was hired to defend a company in a lawsuit where one of its employees claimed total disability due to an injury that occurred at work.  According to the claim, this man had hurt his back so badly that he could not so much as bend over to tie his own shoes without writhing in pain.  He could not walk or get up out of a chair or lay down on or rise up from a bed without assistance.  Taking a bath or engaging in everyday toiletry proved to be excruciating.  He had devolved into an invalid, relegated to dependence....his whole world reduced to the parameters of a wheelchair.

Truly a sad, sad story.  Yet Granddaddy's client didn't believe it and they sought to prove their case in court.  For months, Granddaddy gathered evidence for the trial which included depositions, or sworn statements, of all the people involved.  Among them was the man's wife, a demure woman with stoic features.  She answered Granddaddy's questions pretty predictably...she couldn't believe how much her husband suffered, how he bore little resemblance to the robust man she had married and had to depend on her for everything - he was a cripple, just a cripple.

The days leading up to the trial produced no settlement which is an agreement between the parties that finalizes the matter before going to court.  Granddaddy wasn't too sure how things might go.  He had prepared the best he could and knew that a positive result for his client depended on portraying the man as a malingerer, someone who pretends to be sick in order not to have to work. It wouldn't be easy.

The proceedings started and the lawyers for the other side began calling witnesses.  First came the man who described how the accident happened and the subsequent ordeal for himself.  Then some of his co-workers took the stand to back up his side of the story.  Finally, the wife was called.  To granddaddy's surprise, she didn't look anything like the woman he had deposed several months before.  The severe angles of her face now appeared plump with cheeks blushed of a rosy color.  As she stood to walk to the witness stand, he realized why....she was pregnant...very pregnant....probably seven or eight months so.

Granddaddy's spirits soared.  He abandoned the idea of not asking her any questions.  Looked like she now might be the linchpin to his case.

The opposing counsel finished with their questions.

"Do you have anything to ask the witness?" the judge directed to Granddaddy.

"Yes, your honor.  I do."

He turned to face the wife.

"I am glad to see you again," he began.  "It's been a few months since your deposition."

"Yes, sir," she responded.

"Now, let's go over a few of the facts that we know.  Your husband claims that he was injured in January two years ago, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you testified in your deposition that he can no longer do anything....can't walk, can't bathe, can't sit up or lie down; that he's in chronic pain all the time.  Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

Granddaddy shuffled some papers in his file as if he were looking for something specific.

"Now, I don't want to be indelicate here, but I notice that you are with child."

"Yes, sir."

"And, do you mind telling me exactly how far along you are?"

"I'm almost eight month's pregnant," she answered simply.

At this point, Granddaddy paused, letting her answer sink in to those responsible for making a judgment in the case.  He probably should have stayed paused.....should have said that familiar "no further questions."  But, instead, he broke one of the cardinal rules in law - don't ask a question to which you do not know the answer.

He turned to her confidently, like a submarine about to torpedo an unsuspecting ship.

"Well, can you explain to me how you find yourself in this circumstance with your husband, who can't do anything anymore and claims to be totally disabled?"

Her cheeks reddened from the embarrassment of the question as she pondered how to respond.  She sat up a little straighter in the witness stand with a small signal of defiance.

"Mr. Lawyer, you of all people should know that there are some things a man will do even if it kills him."

No surprises here.....granddaddy lost the case.

The Name Says It All

Dear Boo and Bubble,

There are times when someone needs the service of a lawyer, but they can't afford it.  In these instances, the court will appoint a lawyer to handle the case "pro bono" - or "for free."  This arrangement is critical to our justice system because all of us are guaranteed access to it regardless of our financial circumstances. 

Early in great granddaddy Schaefer's legal career, the court appointed him to represent a man with the last name of Crewell.  Granddaddy reviewed the file and decided that, in order to do a thorough job, he should conduct a personal interview with his client.  He really wanted to get to know Mr. Crewell and thought it best to talk to him in his normal surroundings, not at the office.  Granddaddy made an appointment and noted the address. 

When the time came, Granddaddy drove out from town until the far reaches of Greenville County.  He pulled into the well-trodden front yard of the house, a ramshackle wooden structure surrounded by a couple of acres with a vegetable garden on one side and a clothesline on the other.  The house itself might have signaled poverty, but the neatness of the garden rows and the cleanliness of the clothes flapping from the line emitted an aura of pride.  Mr. and Mrs. Crewell sat on the front porch in rocking chairs.  Their thirteen children covered the several steps leading up to the porch - each spit-shined as if it were Sunday morning.

After introducing himself, Granddaddy began his questioning of Mr. Crewell.  When he was satisfied that he knew the scope of the legal issues, he asked if he might talk to Mrs. Crewell.  She agreed.

"So...." Granddaddy began, "I see you have thirteen children."

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"Well, I only have one question for you.  Which one of these children do you love the most?"

With great conviction and without any hesitation, Mrs. Crewell responded - "The one that's sick."

Granddaddy laughed gently and thought what an honest and amazing answer.

He then asked if he could talk to each of the children.  Mr. and Mrs. Crewell gave their permission. Granddaddy asked them to line up on the steps with the oldest at the top and youngest at the bottom. 

"Okay, all I want to know is how old you are and your name," he instructed.  "Understand?"

They all nodded yes.  He approached the oldest boy.

"18....and I'm James."

"17....and I'm Sarah."

"16...and I'm Heather."

"15...and I'm John."

"14....and I'm Joe."

"13...and I'm Mary."

"12...and I'm David."

"11....and I'm Mark."

"10...and I'm Sam."

"9 ...and I'm Luke."

"8...and I'm Elizabeth."

"7....and I'm Martin."

"6................and I'm Routine."

Might Have to Change the Menu

Dear Boo and Bubble,

Sometime in the 1960’s, a group of prominent Greenville businessmen formed a new bank called Southern Bank and Trust.  Granddaddy Schaefer’s law partner, Steve Stephenson, was one of the founders and the original Chairman of the Board.  Kendrick and Stephenson represented the bank with Granddaddy serving as general counsel. 

Southern Bank enjoyed great success and grew rapidly, so much so that it attracted several suitors in South Carolina of larger banks looking to expand into the Greenville market.  Bankers Trust, whose president at the time was a man named William W. Johnson, rose to the top of the list.  Mr. Johnson, more commonly known as “Hootie,” began his banking career after graduating from the University of South Carolina in his hometown of Greenwood.  He and his father started the Bank of Greenwood which was renamed the State Bank and Trust Company and ultimately became Bankers Trust.  By the mid-60’s, “Hootie” Johnson had become a major player in South Carolina’s banking community and a master at buying up smaller, profitable institutions to enhance Bankers Trust’s portfolio.

Because Steve served as Chairman of Southern Bank’s board, he became the object of “Hootie” Johnson’s attention.  They hunted together on Johnson’s private quail reserve in Manning, SC.  A frequent guest in the Bankers Trust hospitality box, Steve found himself wined and dined at University of South Carolina sporting events.  Over the course of time, the two men became very close friends.

One afternoon approaching Christmas, a large package arrived at the office of Kendrick and Stephenson on 408 N. Church Street.  It was addressed to Steve Stephenson personally – not the firm - from “Hootie” Johnson at Bankers Trust home office, now in Columbia.  Steve wasn’t in at the time, but everybody else, including Granddaddy Schaefer marveled at the box and had great curiosity about the contents.  They put it on Steve’s desk and waited impatiently all afternoon for him to return.

Right before closing time, Steve came through the door.  All the staff clustered in his office to watch as he opened the present.  Inside was a huge, luscious, perfectly prepared country ham.  The card read “To Steve from ‘Hootie.’  Hope you have a very Merry Christmas.”

Everybody “oohed” and “aahed” over the ham.  Steve promised to bring biscuits the next morning and share some of it.  Granddaddy Schaefer enjoyed the scene, and he was happy for Steve.  But, he couldn’t help but be a little deflated.  He, after all, did the actual legal work for Southern Bank since Steve couldn’t because of his position on the board.  Maybe it would have been nice to get a little something himself.

In true Granddaddy fashion, over the next year, every time he saw “Hootie,” he good-naturedly ribbed him about the ham and how he, Schaefer, had not even received so much as a Christmas card.

The next December, we were sitting around the kitchen table at 3 Lakecrest when the doorbell rang.  Granddaddy went to answer it and came back with his eyes all aglow and a huge grin on his face as his arms embraced a box almost too heavy to carry.  The address read “Schaefer Kendrick” - the return address, “Hootie Johnson.”

He ceremoniously dropped the package on the table with dramatic flair.

“Okay, everybody,” he said.  “This is important.  Turn off the TV.  Mary, come sit down.”

We all stopped what we were doing.

“Christmas is here, folks.  We’re going to be doing some real eating now with what’s inside this box.  Hope you all like red-eye gravy on your grits and good old country ham in your biscuits because that’s what I’m going to be fixing you.  Bless “Hootie’s” heart - he remembered. Mary, can you get me some scissors?”

Mamaw obliged him and we all watched as he almost reverently began sliding one blade of the scissors through the tape that held the box securely shut.  One flap up, then two….three….four.  As Granddaddy pulled the stuffing from the inside, he paused and then began to chuckle. 

He reached down into the box and pulled out a large, black iron skillet with about two pounds of fatback strapped to its middle.  A card was taped to the underside of the skillet.

“To Schaefer:  Wanted you to know you were remembered this Christmas.  Enjoy.  Hootie.”