thedrifter
12-16-07, 06:04 PM
Saturday, December 15, 2007
The gift of public service
The Post
He's 87 now, and whenever something - a hip, maybe, or dental work - malfunctions, U.S. District Judge S. Arthur Spiegel is fond of saying, "Getting old's not for sissies."
The aging body notwithstanding (he still plays tennis, so let's not make too much of it), his mind remains one of the great human resources of Cincinnati and of the national judiciary.
The city knows him as the take-no-prisoners civil rights lawyer who, after he became a federal judge in 1980, adjusted his temperament to the bench and handled some of the town's most challenging cases - Pete Rose, Fernald, the Bengals stadium deal, and most recently, the morgue photos fiasco. He's the judge that Anthony "Tony" Erpenbeck, the ex-homebuilder turned Soprano-wannabe, ill-advisedly threatened with assassination and mutilation.
Judge Spiegel's friends know him by more than the headlines. He's the once-upon-a-time owner of Clifton's only burro (Edward R.), the pilot of the little plane with the loose doors, and the artist whose paintings have been exhibited at Kaldi's.
Lately, they've been getting to know Art Spiegel the author. The judge has been putting his life's story down on paper. There may come a day when the installments are enjoyed widely. For now they are, one close friend put it, "Just Art, making a record of his life."
I've had a peek at the autobiography-in-the-making. It is a portrait of a man deeply committed to the law and its fair application, who has found joy with his family and friends and who, from his youth and still, has given his best effort to his community and his country.
By way of a sample, here is small bit from "The War Years: 1941-1945." Its most dramatic moment unfolds 64 years ago on Christmas Day 1943 when Lt. Spiegel was part of an amphibious landing at Borgen Bay as the Marines tried to neutralize a Japanese air and sea operation.
Let me set the table. Spiegel was a 21-year-old first-year law student at the University of Cincinnati, secure in his future as the grandson of a Cincinnati mayor and the son of a Cincinnati municipal judge. And then came Pearl Harbor. It made him hungry to enlist, but his eyesight was so poor that the Navy rejected him twice. So when the Marines came to UC, he found an eye chart to memorize before his physical. In a matter of months, he was off to boot camp.
Deployed to the Pacific, the only action he saw for the first 21 months was a fistfight with another Marine whose insult of Jews offended Spiegel, himself Jewish. Borgen Bay would remedy the inaction.
Packed into transports on the 25th, the Marines landed on the 26th, seemingly unopposed. Then all hell broke loose. Lt. Spiegel was sent to find an intelligence officer who had not checked in. He found him, dead, along with his squad. There was no time to mourn or to be paralyzed by fear. Other Marines came by and told of a wounded buddy pinned down by a Japanese machine gun's fusillade. Here, in Spiegel's words, is what happened:
"I worked my way around the area in a flanking maneuver through the undergrowth to the beach and swam out into the surf and then back into the beach on the other side of the fallen tree from the wounded Marine.
"I tried to use my .45 automatic to pin down the Jap, but it wouldn't fire because sand had gotten into it. Fortunately, I had some hand grenades, and I yelled to the wounded Marine to keep his head down as I tossed the hand grenades over him.
"I then dove over the tree and dragged the wounded Marine to a trench where we pulled him in and then proceeded to administer first aid by giving him morphine. He had been shot several times in the same leg.
"The Japanese with the machine gun continued to fire, and I could see the bullets striking the edge of the trench between us above my head. We finally got the wounded Marine out of the area and he was taken over by a corpsman. I later learned that the Japanese who had been shooting at me was an officer and had been mortally wounded by my hand grenades but kept firing the machine gun until he died."
This Hanukkah and Christmas will pass with, once again, our nation at war. Judge Spiegel's words remind us of what those of all faiths who are in harm's way risk on behalf of our democracy, then as now. What a gift their sacrifice is.
Mark Neikirk is director of the Scripps Howard Center for Civic Engagement. His e-mail address is neikirkm1@nku.edu.
Ellie
The gift of public service
The Post
He's 87 now, and whenever something - a hip, maybe, or dental work - malfunctions, U.S. District Judge S. Arthur Spiegel is fond of saying, "Getting old's not for sissies."
The aging body notwithstanding (he still plays tennis, so let's not make too much of it), his mind remains one of the great human resources of Cincinnati and of the national judiciary.
The city knows him as the take-no-prisoners civil rights lawyer who, after he became a federal judge in 1980, adjusted his temperament to the bench and handled some of the town's most challenging cases - Pete Rose, Fernald, the Bengals stadium deal, and most recently, the morgue photos fiasco. He's the judge that Anthony "Tony" Erpenbeck, the ex-homebuilder turned Soprano-wannabe, ill-advisedly threatened with assassination and mutilation.
Judge Spiegel's friends know him by more than the headlines. He's the once-upon-a-time owner of Clifton's only burro (Edward R.), the pilot of the little plane with the loose doors, and the artist whose paintings have been exhibited at Kaldi's.
Lately, they've been getting to know Art Spiegel the author. The judge has been putting his life's story down on paper. There may come a day when the installments are enjoyed widely. For now they are, one close friend put it, "Just Art, making a record of his life."
I've had a peek at the autobiography-in-the-making. It is a portrait of a man deeply committed to the law and its fair application, who has found joy with his family and friends and who, from his youth and still, has given his best effort to his community and his country.
By way of a sample, here is small bit from "The War Years: 1941-1945." Its most dramatic moment unfolds 64 years ago on Christmas Day 1943 when Lt. Spiegel was part of an amphibious landing at Borgen Bay as the Marines tried to neutralize a Japanese air and sea operation.
Let me set the table. Spiegel was a 21-year-old first-year law student at the University of Cincinnati, secure in his future as the grandson of a Cincinnati mayor and the son of a Cincinnati municipal judge. And then came Pearl Harbor. It made him hungry to enlist, but his eyesight was so poor that the Navy rejected him twice. So when the Marines came to UC, he found an eye chart to memorize before his physical. In a matter of months, he was off to boot camp.
Deployed to the Pacific, the only action he saw for the first 21 months was a fistfight with another Marine whose insult of Jews offended Spiegel, himself Jewish. Borgen Bay would remedy the inaction.
Packed into transports on the 25th, the Marines landed on the 26th, seemingly unopposed. Then all hell broke loose. Lt. Spiegel was sent to find an intelligence officer who had not checked in. He found him, dead, along with his squad. There was no time to mourn or to be paralyzed by fear. Other Marines came by and told of a wounded buddy pinned down by a Japanese machine gun's fusillade. Here, in Spiegel's words, is what happened:
"I worked my way around the area in a flanking maneuver through the undergrowth to the beach and swam out into the surf and then back into the beach on the other side of the fallen tree from the wounded Marine.
"I tried to use my .45 automatic to pin down the Jap, but it wouldn't fire because sand had gotten into it. Fortunately, I had some hand grenades, and I yelled to the wounded Marine to keep his head down as I tossed the hand grenades over him.
"I then dove over the tree and dragged the wounded Marine to a trench where we pulled him in and then proceeded to administer first aid by giving him morphine. He had been shot several times in the same leg.
"The Japanese with the machine gun continued to fire, and I could see the bullets striking the edge of the trench between us above my head. We finally got the wounded Marine out of the area and he was taken over by a corpsman. I later learned that the Japanese who had been shooting at me was an officer and had been mortally wounded by my hand grenades but kept firing the machine gun until he died."
This Hanukkah and Christmas will pass with, once again, our nation at war. Judge Spiegel's words remind us of what those of all faiths who are in harm's way risk on behalf of our democracy, then as now. What a gift their sacrifice is.
Mark Neikirk is director of the Scripps Howard Center for Civic Engagement. His e-mail address is neikirkm1@nku.edu.
Ellie