Month: October 2018

A Lesson Learned

I don’t remember what Bill Veeder, the Charlotte city manager, had done, but he shouldn’t have and I needed to get a city attorney to say so.

At that time I was a young reporter, in my 20’s, working for The Charlotte News.  I started off in Charlotte covering county government and the courts and I had been promoted to the city government beat.

Veeder was an excellent city manager.  But this time he had slipped up.  I don’t remember the details but I do remember that I needed to get one of the city’s attorneys to say so.  That wasn’t going to happen, of course, they worked for Veeder.

Or was it.

I decided to present one of the city’s attorneys with a “hypothetical” situation.  And then  I described exactly what Veeder had done, without mentioning his name, of course.

The attorney commented and I had my story.

Late that afternoon when I returned to my office, in the basement of City Hall, the attorney I had tricked was waiting for me.  He was sitting in my chair, reading, or rereading, the story I had written.

“You’re a cheap son of a bitch,” he said, and then he stood up and left without another word.  I didn’t have to think about that very long before deciding he was right.

That’s not the kind of reporter I wanted to be, a trickster, and I never did anything like that again.   

NOTE: 2 Timothy 2:15 urges us to be like “…a workman that needeth not to be ashamed…”

Coming Friday: The Surefire Bet

Navy Propaganda

Bo and Vicki
Bo and Vicki

When our son, Patrick Bowman Gordy-Stith, was a midshipman [1982-86] at the U.S. Naval Academy my wife, Donna, and I went to Annapolis, Maryland, a number of times to see him and Midshipman Vicki Lynn Gordy, his girlfriend then, his wife now.

On Sundays we usually worshiped at the Naval Academy Chapel. Beautiful place,  but it never seemed like church to me.

John Paul Jones
The  21-ton sarcophagus of John Paul Jones. When a battle with a British frigate seemed lost Jones refused to surrender and shouted, “I have not yet begun to fight!”  He fought on, and won.

One problem was the sermons preached by Navy chaplains.  The kindest word that comes to mind is “bland.”  But it was more than that, a lot more.

For one thing, there is a crypt beneath the chapel in which the body of John Paul Jones, a Revolution War hero who is regarded as the Father of the U.S. Navy, is interred.  Isn’t that a little creepy, or is it just me?

For another, in that 2,500-seat chapel all souls were not equal. High ranking officers came in last, marched down the aisle to their reserved seats, and left first while everyone else waited.

Midshipment trooped the colors down this aisle.
Midshipmen carried the American flag and Navy Marine Corp flags down this aisle.

There’s more. I didn’t like seeing midshipmen parading the American flag  in and out of the chapel. I love the American flag and served it at sea, but it doesn’t belong in a church.

And the stain glass windows are, how shall I say — different.

One depicts Sir Galahad, a knight of the Roundtable, in other words, a fictional character sort of like, well, Donald Duck.   Another depicts a recently graduated midshipman based on the likeness, I’ve read, of Tom Hamilton, a Navy football hero, an All America halfback on Navy’s undefeated 1926 team.   But the stained glass window that really got to me showed the Archangel Michael guiding Admiral David G. Farragut’s ships through a mine field at the Battle of Mobile Bay in 1864, helping him kill Southerners.

I sort of doubt that.

Archangle Michael
Archangel Michael helped the U.S. Navy at the Battle of Mobile Bay, according to the U.S. Navy.

Am I anti-Navy or anti-military?

No.

I served in the Navy and my three brothers, too. My father was in the Army. Two brothers-in-law served in the Air Force.  Bo and  Vicki graduated from the Naval Academy and served five year hitches.

I just don’t believe rank matters inside a church, at least it ought not matter.  I also believe the government ought not try to run a church, and a church ought not try to run the government.

Coming Monday: A Lesson Learned