Every defense lawyer wants a two word verdict, just as every prosecutor wants a one-worder. Just finished a trial in Eureka, 2 charges, 2-two word verdicts. It was a misdemeanor, so it wasn't like a life hung in the balance, or life in prison and one dark day, or anything comparable. But to my client it was a major big deal. He went from laying his head on the court table in total despair while we spent the longest couple of minutes in the trial, to whooping off down the sidewalk, life intact.

You know those two minutes? If you are a lawyer you do. You have been waiting near the courthouse. You get the phone call. "There is a verdict. Come to the courtroom immediately." You and the client get there. The Prosecutor arrives. The judge sends the Bailiff for the jury. The jury files back in. One juror has a couple of sheets of paper in his hand. The judge asks if they have arrived at a verdict. The foreperson sort of wiggles the papers and says they have. "Pass the verdicts to the bailiff please". The bailiff walks over to the jury box to get the papers, and its almost as if the bailiff were moving in slow-motion. The bailiff gives the verdicts to the judge. The judge looks at them, impassive. Then the judge hands the verdicts to the clerk to read. My legal assistant is sitting in the courtroom behind me. A couple of DAs have come in and are sitting in the audience seats, which are otherwise empty. You could hear a pin drop. The client is about to pass out from tension. On the way up to the court he told me he is sure they will find him guilty.

Then the clerk reads, slowly, the verdict forms. Every word, from the top. Name of the court, name of the case, case number, the crime charged "we the jury in the aforementioned case, find the defendant...." It takes forever to get to the only part that matters to the lawyer and the client. Will it be one word. GUILTY, or two words NOT GUILTY? The next word the clerk says will sum up the past two weeks of intense trial work, witness questioning, exhibits, drawings on the blackboard. Should I have mentioned the dog, or spent less time discussing the flower pot (nouns altered to protect privacy), called that other witness, not called the witnesses I did call, asked one more credibility impeaching question when their witness was on the stand? Did I ask that one question too many that all lawyers dread? I'm about to find out. The client hasn't got a clue as to what has happened in the trial, and for the most part neither has the jury. The lawyers have no clue as to what the jury has been thinking, and really no clue as to what the verdict will be. One juror said to me after a trial that we lawyers had wasted a great deal of time asking the witnesses about stuff that didn't make any difference. True enough, and if we knew which stuff wouldn't make any difference we'd leave it out. But jurors often seize on what seems to the lawyers to be an inconsequential fact and base their verdicts on it, so you can't leave any stone unturned, any insinuation without reply. The clerk opens her mouth. Is she forming a "G" or an "N"? Thank God, she is forming an "N" and those lovely words come out. NOT GUILTY. The client looks puzzled, and whispers "Is that it? What happens now?" The other verdict form is read and once again the most wonderful sound in the English language is uttered at the cruical moment."N" and we have a second NOT GUILTY. Its all over but the yelling. The judge thanks the jury, they leave, the client is dismissed, and the lawyers go out into the hall to speak with any jurors who have been willing to hang out and discuss why they arrived at their verdicts. Its always a surprise. But the jurors, the lawyers, and the client have all been through this intense experience together and we have that rush of excitement and energy still. Also I know if we don't talk about the trial right now we'll lose interest. Two weeks from now the trial will be history and neither the jurors nor the attorneys will have much interest in it. But right now every word from the juror is fascinating to the lawyers because its the only feedback they'll ever get on the finer points of their work. The verdict is feedback, but only in the gross sense. Something worked, something failed. But what? How can I do this again, or do it better? We probably spent most of an hour talking with jurors, who one by one finished talking and walked off down the hall. The last one goes, and so do we. I go back to the Townhouse to pack up, my client goes off down the sidewalk towards 3rd street. I can hear his whoops as I walk upstairs to my room. My legal assisant congratulates me. Its a nice feeling. I know the other feeling, too, when the G word is the only word from that blank spot in the verdict forrm that the jury fills. Believe me. Winning is better.

Tonight nearing the end of a week and a half of trial days, we have pretty well exhausted the nearby eateries, and decided to strike out for Bless my Soul and get some good ole Southern Cooking. As a good ole Southerner myself I'm favoring this. More news after the meal. Last time I was there I recall blues on the sound system, and some good ones too.

Next month I'll be blogging from South America and Antarctica. Expected major stops: Rio, Buenos Aires, Montevideo, Stanley, and of course the only continent with no indigenous inhabitants (and very few non-indigenous), Antarctica. Any questions, favorite spots to share, or anything which will assist in the preparations or carrying out of this mission are welcome.

Well, we got as far as F street, walking down the alley between 4th and 3rd streets, then the lure of Mazotti's caught us so we never got to Bless my Soul. Perhaps next trial. Walking the alley in the heavy fog reminded me of daytime in Xi'an - actually to be fair you could see about twice as far in XI'an in the daytime as foggy Eureka at night. Ah, the memories.

I have been living on my "ranch" for over a quarter of a century. Gradually I have created a trail which winds around the property for a mile or two and when I'm home and my schedule permits I walk that trail in the morning for excercise. In the springtime I carry clippers with me because the exhuberant and chaotic growth of the flora threaten to cover the trail over and not only make it impassible, but impossible to find. Now its late in the season, and the young plants have matured. They don't threaten the path any longer, in fact it is covered with the yellow fallen leaves of autumn, something like the yellow brick road. The rains and storms of winter have begun and parts of the trail which seemed firm and clear in mid-season now are boggy and it is necessary to pick your footing carefully to find a way past the. It takes longer, and my walks have slowed down. The real threat to the path tho is that a serious storm will bring an ancient tree down permanently blocking the trail. I hope to get thru this winter ok, and look forward to spring finding me still on the path. But you never know.

Charlie Simonson sent me this email about Takoma artist Charlie Nothing.

so sadly, i´m writing, that on oct 23rd at 930 pm in his soquel, california home, charlie nothing passed away.
charlie was a monolith of life and creation, and it was not until wednesday that i realized i'd begun to think of him as this elemental entity, like wisdom, or experience, and certainly not something that would cease to be. you and i may have a watch, but charlie always had the time.
i last saw charlie in the brussels airport, after finishing a short string of european dates with jakob olausson, charlie's first time abroad. he was invigorated with the realization that there were new sets of young ears, eagerly interested in what he'd been creating for the past 40 + yrs. it's a sad and cruel twist that 40 years of the ding : a charlie nothing anthology will be released in posterus; he so excitedly anticipated it's arrival.
so, too late, but, soon, 40 years of the ding : a charlie nothing anthology, a collection comprised of charlie's recordings for takoma, as well as a privately pressed LP, three singles, cuts from about a million privately released cassettes, and even a few tracks recorded while enjoying time spent in the venice county jail, with a nod / wink, it's a project with the aspirational intent of answering the question, "who the fuck is charlie nothing?"

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http://destijlrecs.com
www.myspace.com/84367059

Died of a massive heart attack this week. He was 64. When I was in the DC folkscene way back in the early 60's Firk was one of the guitar stars, as well as being a record collector in the old 78 business. I haven't thought much about him in recent decades, but you never really lose emotional touch with the people you share a scene with, it seems. His "real" name was Mike Stewart.

Hear his music from the 60's on Fonotone. He was an astonishing guitar player who normally couldn't go more than about 30 seconds without falling off the end of what he was doing because what he was doing was so incredible. His Adelphi album from the same period is a miracle of editing.

A Google search shows that aside from his Fonotone recordings as one of the Mississippi Swampers, and B. Sam Firk, he also brought out an album in 2001. I'll be playing a couple of cuts from it on Saturday's "Don't Get Trouble On Your Mind."

I met a woman at my mother's funeral who said that the only times she got out these days was to go to funerals of the people she had grown up with. I'm beginning to understand that now.