The last thing you want to see are those bright lights in your rear-view mirror.
By John Murphy
The year 1995 was eventful. Forrest Gump won the Academy Award for best picture, the San Francisco 49ers became the first team to win five Super Bowls and OJ Simpson was found not guilty of double murder for the deaths of former wife Nicole Brown Simpson and Ronald Goldman.
Not faring so well in the court room that year was me. I was working for the Victor Valley Daily Press and, while embarking on a brief vacation to the Bay Area, was pulled over for traveling 30 mph over the speed limit (allegedly) in Lancaster.
“License and registration, please,” the California Highway Patrolman said from behind his aviator sunglasses. After examining the documents, he said, “I clocked you at 85 mph as you passed that Suburban. We don’t let people to drive that fast down here.”
“Down here?” Obviously, I was the victim of an anti-Northern California bias. Anyway, I soon found myself in a courtroom in the sweltering desert city of Lancaster. Although not exonerated, I had my fine halved by a merciful judge, then described my experience in a light-hearted Daily Press column.
My effort found its way to my former co-worker at the Watsonville Register-Pajaronian, Bill Akers. Akers, during the 1980s, was a cigarette-smoking editor (he lit up in the newsroom) who wrote a popular Saturday column. He also tackled crossword puzzles at his desk during lunch and amused us with his knowledge of obscure words — some of which we appropriated.
Akers, after reading my column, mailed me this letter and it’s a gem. Enjoy:
Dear John,
It was heartwarming to learn that some of the culture you were exposed to in the Pajaronian newsroom has stayed with you. Although you are long removed from the Pajaro Valley in time and distance, you are still able to write a column using such words as bemusement, incarcerated, incongruous, reprobate and ne’er-do-well.
Lane Wallace sent me a copy of your column as proof that our efforts to civilize the sports department back then were not totally in vain.
Further proof that you have the makings of a gentleman was that you appeared in court “nattily attired,” although you failed to mention a necktie. You did wear a necktie, didn’t you?
I would suggest you look to OJ Simpson as an example of what a tailored suit, clean shirt and tasteful necktie can do for one’s image. However, when I suggest him as a role model I am speaking only sartorially; I do not necessarily endorse his method of solving domestic disputes.
It was a little disturbing to note that you still have some of the scofflaw in you. This was evident in your pique at having been ticketed for doing 85 in a 55 mph zone. Seventy-five, perhaps, but 85 was excessive. The constable did the only thing he could do.
And before you denigrate the costume of the lad in front of you in the courtroom, just think what you might have become had you not been surrounded by such splendid co-workers and friends in Watsonville.
A final admonition: Next time you get busted and are hauled into court, show some respect for the judge – a little groveling wouldn’t hurt; wear a necktie and use some big words. I have included a few such words in this letter in case you ever need them.
Your erstwhile co-journalist,
Bill Akers
Post-script: Bill Akers died in 2009 at 88. He retired from the newspaper business in 1983. After that he volunteered and, according to his obituary, drew with pastels and wrote poetry which, he said, “escaped being doggerel by the thinnest of margins.”
I looked up “doggerel” and it means “crude or irregularly worded verse.” It’s now a part of my vocabulary.
Main Street Dog 