Month: August 2005

Dear Ace: As any good modern consumer, over the years I’ve acquired a good amount of computer equipment. Rather than throwing the old models out, I’d much rather take them to a recycling center. Is there any such facility in, or near, Charlottesville?—Electronic Clutterbug

Clutterbug: Just to test the limits of the City’s recycling program, Ace tried to put his old, dusty Apple II computer into
his curbside-recycling bin. When Ace returned home that night, he found his computer still sitting by the street. He also found a mob of middle school kids mocking his obsolete technology. Momentarily demoralized, but not defeated, Ace popped into the Acemobile for a drive to the McIntire Recycling Center. As he poked around the recycling dumpsters, it seemed that eco-friendly facility took everything under the sun, except computer electronics.

   Dragging his Apple II back home, Ace decided to take matters into his own hands. So, he called the City’s Public Works office, where he spoke with Cyndi Kirby. Kirby told Ace that, unfortunately, the City of Charlottesville does not recycle electronics. (Neither does Albemarle; the County’s Engineering Inspector for Public Works, Dan Fowley, says that because there’s no market for recycling computers, the landfill takes it in as solid waste.)

   But, if Ace were interested in recycling (and what true-blue investigative reporter isn’t?), Kirby suggested he try donating or selling his good components to a local computer store.

   Ace had to admit it was a good idea. The Apple II had to be worth something—The Ace Atkins had owned it, after all! Ace then called a techie bud of his, Anthony at PC Pro. He laid it out for Ace. “You see, Ace, a lot of the time, we tell people to just get rid of it since the components are not that useful. Occasionally, if the computer is only a generation or two old, it can be donated to the schools.” A hand-me-down from Big Daddy Atkins, Ace’s two-generation Apple II would be perfect for those school kids, Ace reasoned. But it turns out that “two-generation” has nothing to do with the family tree. Humpf.

   Luckily, there are numerous venues for donation around Charlottesville. Provided the computer is in working condition, the Goodwill, the SPCA Rummage Sale and the Salvation Army all accept donated computers. Computers 4 Kids, a local nonprofit, also accepts PCs with 500 megahertz or higher processors. But unfortunately, for poor Ace, they don’t take Macintosh computers, meaning Ace was left with no choice but to turn his dinosaur computer components into stylish end tables.

The Albemarle County Circuit Court is open for business, but save for the eight people present (all but one being part of the proceedings) the place is empty the 12 rows of wooden gallery benches being merely ornamental. Behind the bench, beneath a gold-framed picture of Thomas Jefferson, Judge Paul Peatross sits front and center, head resting where it always rests: in his right hand. Peatross’ habitual pose mirrors Auguste Rodin’s “The Thinker,” only Peatross looks infinitely less Grecian and markedly more bored than the French sculptor’s famed subject.

   In the witness box, a young police officer recalls arresting the defendant for possession of marijuana.

   Public Defender Jim Hingeley builds his argument: Did you say the search of the vehicle would take 10 seconds? How many times did you say that? Did the search take 10 seconds? How much longer than 10 seconds did it take? The question here, Judge, is whether the scope of the search exceeded the permission granted.

   The Commonwealth’s bow-tied Attorney, Jim Camblos, rises from his seat and turns towards the judge. What Mr. Hingeley fails to note, Your Honor, is that the officer was just doing his job—to look for contraband.

   Although Hingeley and Camblos have worked together for more than 25 years, they refer to each other as “Mr. Hingeley” and “Mr. Camblos” before the judge. Likewise, both lawyers address Peatross as “Your Honor” or “Judge.”

   If procedure is king of the courtroom—even an almost empty one—then courtesy is queen. It may sound quaint, but in this modern age of blue dresses in the Oval Office and go-fuck-yourselves on the Senate floor, the courtroom is one of the last bastions of old-fashioned etiquette. But until there’s a serious breach in decorum, the kind of thing that earns headlines, most people may never realize that a vacant courtroom is supposed to be a sanctuary of good manners. Even the toughest criminals say yessir and nossir to a judge, and impatience with either King Procedure or Queen Courtesy spells trouble for all.

   Judge Peatross is one of five judges on the Albemarle County Circuit Court. More than 4,500 criminal cases and 3,000 civil suits pass through that courthouse each year. In his hands he holds not only his head, but the fate of everyone from murderers to pot smokers to people with one too many speeding tickets.

   However, during the past two years Peatross has managed to antagonize his colleagues so much with his courtroom conduct that in February 2004 Hingeley and Camblos filed separate, formal complaints against him. Five months later, the State’s Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission recommended Peatross’ removal from the bench and passed the case on to the State Supreme Court. The commission has made that recommendation only nine times since it was established in 1971.

   In a 2004 article commenting on a similar situation between Rhode Island lawyers and judges, Carl T. Bogus, a law professor at Roger Williams University, argued that Rhode Island judges are thin-skinned. They abuse their power, he said, by punishing lawyers who are critical of them with excessively tough sentences for their clients. Taking as his starting point a quote from W. Somerset Maugham— “People ask you for criticism, but they only want praise”—Bogus asserts that lawyers’ occasional solicitousness towards judges is problematic.

   “Saying that lawyers treat the judges with deference fails to capture the interaction,” writes Bogus. “It is more accurate to say that lawyers bow and scrape. Some lawyers have elevated fawning to an art form, pulling it off with subtle eloquence.”

   Bogus goes on to say that, along with the sense of power that comes from holding a person’s future in one’s hands, years of ass-kissing and sycophancy lead to what’s known as “black robe disease.” The symptoms, says Bogus, include when a judge becomes “impatient, disdainful and cantankerous.” Such adjectives echo the criticisms leveled against Peatross.

   “The very best judges have such wonderful demeanors that it brings out the best in lawyers,” says local defense

attorney Steven Rosenfield. “But there are judges that have demeanor problems that exacerbate an already tension-filled system.”

   UVA law professor George Rutherglen, an expert in civil procedure, allows that judges are given “quite a bit of latitude to be blunt and critical, especially outside the presence of the jury.” Yet the Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission, which read and seconded the complaint against Peatross, is staffed partly by judges. If anybody, they ought to have an idea of what’s kosher on the bench and what’s not.

   The Virginia Supreme Court handed down its decision on Peatross in late April 2005. While the Court did not exactly exonerate Peatross, it ultimately decided there was not enough evidence to remove him from the bench. So, after a self-imposed nine months off from criminal cases, Judge Peatross returned to Circuit Court in early July of this year to preside, once again, over cases argued by Hingeley and Camblos. And the drama ain’t exactly over.

Peatross listens impassively to Hingeley’s motion to suppress evidence in the marijuana search case, occasionally adjusting the perch of his head in his hand. Just weeks earlier, Hingeley had filed a motion that Peatross recuse himself from the bench for this particular case. The defendant, now sitting quietly at the defense table, had asked Hingeley to do so based on what he knew about Hingeley’s relationship with the judge. Peatross overruled the motion.

   After hearing out the two attorneys in this afternoon’s motion to suppress, Peatross says he’ll have a decision within two weeks. “Thank you, Judge.” Hingeley and Camblos echo each other, collect their things and exit the courthouse.

   The archaic manners of the room’s players emulate its spartan interior. Aside from the Jefferson portrait, the courtroom’s only other decorative flourishes are two other portraits of dead white men, framed copies of the Declaration of Independence and Monroe Doctrine, the requisite flags and two brass chandeliers. The chorus of crickets outside fills the deserted room like a liquid.

   “I’m reminded when looking at the courthouse,” says Rosenfield, “that Jefferson…believed [the courthouse] was the center of all of public discourse. It was the pinnacle of the community and, architecturally, there is that notion of solemnity.”

   The last to leave, Peatross rises from his blue, leather armchair and retreats to his chambers. Even when he’s seated it’s clear the 60ish Peatross is thin, but upright and engulfed in his voluminous black robes, he’s virtually disembodied. At about 6’2" and with a slightly stooped posture, as he leaves the room Peatross looks like he might tip over.

Paul Peatross graduated from Hamp-den-Sydney College in 1968 and got his J.D. from the University of Richmond three years later. After 14 years as an attorney, Peatross was appointed to a judgeship on the Charlottesville General District Court. He was named to the Albemarle County Circuit Court in 1992.

   Clearly, Peatross has had plenty of time to build up a reputation among the Court Square crowd, and it’s not just Hingeley and Camblos who have found the judge rude when it comes to criminal cases.

   The record, which became public when the case went to the Virginia Supreme Court, stresses the judge’s on-the-job demeanor.

   “[Peatross] is regarded as a judge who is often intemperate and impatient on the bench,” wrote local attorney Fred Heblich in a letter to the Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission on the topic of the judge’s court demeanor. “He angers easily, and he sometimes makes decisions out of anger that demonstrate meanness and spite. He is known as a judge who frequently treats prosecutors and defense lawyers with sarcasm, disrespect, and contempt. “

   Even lawyer Fred Payne, who wrote to the Commission that, “Off the bench, Judge Peatross is kind, compassionate and eminently likable,” allowed that he’s seen “Judge Peatross treat persons appearing before him in a manner which I can only characterize as rude.”

   The letters in support of Peatross were from lawyers mostly familiar with the judge’s work in civil cases; the issue at hand was his demeanor in criminal cases.

   Peppered with terms like “gentlemen,” “your honor,” and “Mr. Firstname Lastname,” the letters submitted to the Commission by local lawyers spell out, in print, the formality of the courtroom—its vocabulary and mannerisms. Such sentence constructions stand in stark contrast to the allegations of rudeness that is the meat of the texts.

   The way architects have their own brand of handwriting, lawyers have a patented brand of formality—and it seems to really mean something to them.

The situation among Hingeley, Camblos and Peatross began to deteriorate in the fall of 2003. That September, Camblos was prosecuting a client of Hingeley’s on a felony charge. On hearing day, and taking into account the defendant’s background, Camblos decided to reduce the charge from a felony to a misdemeanor.

   Not so fast, said Peatross. Either drop the case or prosecute the felony. When Camblos and Hingeley tried to explain their rationale and timing, Peatross grew impatient. According to transcripts from the hearing, no apparent conclusion had been reached when Peatross abruptly announced that he was taking it upon the Court to drop the case. The judge later admitted his decision was inappropriate.

   Following the incident, Camblos wrote to Peatross expressing anxiety over what Camblos wrote was the judge’s “unnecessary and uncalled for” reaction.

   Peatross’ response? It’s not personal, it’s business. That became the judge’s refrain in the following months.

   Commenting on the incident to the Commission, Peatross explained, “It is nothing personal, it is a matter of trying to conduct the business of the court. I don’t have anything personally against him, I just want him to operate in a business-like manner…”

   In December 2003, another dispute erupted. Camblos and Llezelle Dugger, an attorney in Hingeley’s office, had worked out a plea agreement prior to trial. Peatross didn’t accept it. A second plea agreement was presented in which the defendant would plead guilty to all charges except one. They agreed that the final charge would go to a jury. Peatross accepted this and gave the defendant a tough sentence—the maximum on all four plead misdemeanors. Peatross’ reasoning, according to Commission transcripts, was that if the jury gave a tough sentence in the felony case then Peatross could adjust his sentencing with regards to the misdemeanors.

   The day after sentencing, Camblos told Peatross he wanted to drop the final charge. The sentence, said Camblos, was already more than enough. Peatross, however, didn’t buy the lawyer’s claim that he hadn’t planned to drop the charge all along; Peatross believed there had been a pre-existing agreement between Dugger and Camblos—to which the judge was not privy—to drop the case.

   This possibility infuriated Peatross.

   “I felt like the integrity of the court was at stake,” Peatross told the Commission. “I didn’t think the lawyers were being up front with me, whether it was intentional or unintentional.”

   Just days after Camblos’ request to drop the charge, Peatross unceremoniously fired both attorneys from the case.

   Peatross told the Commission in retrospect, “I still feel [the attorneys misled me], but if my actions were wrong and I overreacted, then I should correct them in any possible way.”

   After each of these encounters the attorneys filed motions to reconsider and wrote personal letters to the judge expressing concern about his behavior. The judge denied the motions and didn’t deal with the matter privately or in person.

   “It’s easier to do a good job for one’s client [be it the state or an individual],” explains Steven Rosenfield, “if everyone’s getting along outside the courtroom.”

Peatross’ nickname among criminal defense lawyers is “Maximum Mac.” He’s known for his tough sentences and rarely cuts anyone a break. For example, it was Peatross who recently sentenced (on appeal) an Albemarle couple to over two years in prison for serving alcohol to minors at their kid’s 16th birthday party. While this was less than the original 8-year sentence, seeing as Camblos had recommended a 90-day sentence, many still considered it harsh. According to local lawyer Fred Heblich’s letter to the Commission, “it is said of him that ‘his idea of reasonable doubt is a suspended sentence.’”

   The final straw came in early February 2004. During docket call, which is when a judge schedules upcoming hearings, motions and trials, Hingeley asked to move back the date of a trial. According to the testimony of Camblos, who was present at the docket call, “[the Judge] then asked Hingeley with irritation, sarcasm and anger, while throwing his hands in the air, to tell the Court what day he wanted.”

   Two days later, on February 4, 2004, Camblos and Hingeley’s offices each filed formal complaints against Peatross with the statewide Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission. (Camblos says these actions were not coordinated.) The attorneys’ primary grievances? Peatross had shown little respect for the king and queen of the courtroom: procedure and courtesy.

   After a formal hearing in June 2004, the Commission concluded that there was sufficient evidence to recommend that Peatross be taken off the bench and a formal complaint lodged with the Virginia Supreme Court.

   Citing specific canons from the Canons of Judicial Conduct for the Commonwealth of Virginia, the Commission’s notice to Peatross stated, “You have failed to uphold the integrity and independence of the judiciary…to avoid impropriety and the appearance of impropriety…and to act at all times in a manner that promotes public confidence in the integrity and impartiality of the judiciary…You have failed to be faithful to the law…and to be patient, dignified and courteous to those with whom you have dealt in an official capacity…”

   At that juncture, Peatross voluntarily took himself off the criminal bench until the Supreme Court had decided the case. He limited his casework to civil complaints for the next nine months. During that time, the State paid him his regular salary of $125,795 and substitute judges filled in for him in criminal proceedings, according to D.J. Geiger, the State court system’s media relations spokesperson.

   In April 2005 the Supreme Court decided there was a lack of “clear and convincing evidence” that Judge Peatross had acted inappropriately and dismissed the case. Instead of calling Peatross’ behavior “extremely impatient, undignified and discourteous,” as the Commission had, the Virginia Supreme Court chose the words “stern, direct, and authoritative,” and thus not in violation of the Canons. Peatross was free to return to criminal cases.

   Both Hingeley and Camblos declined to be interviewed for this story. Peatross, too, declined to be photographed or interviewed, saying the public record speaks for itself.

In late April Judge Peatross returned to criminal cases on the Albemarle County Circuit Court bench, where Camblos and Hingeley again argue cases in front of him. The question that now arises is whether it’s possible for Peatross not to hold grudges against the attorneys for the ordeal of the past two years.

   Indeed, Hingeley anticipated this situation when addressing the Commission: “As a result of this, I would find it very difficult to appear in front of Judge Peatross, or for anybody in my office to appear in front of him…I think that that client would be very concerned about my ability to represent that client zealously and effectively…”

   Camblos and Hingeley believe their clients could pay the price for them publicly criticizing the judge, and that a judge known for tough sentences could get even tougher. The dilemma is described in the article by Bogus, the Rhode Island law professor.

   “There is a strongly enforced taboo,” he writes, “against criticizing the state’s governmental institutions, particularly its courts. The targets and enforcers of this taboo are one and the same: the lawyers and judges themselves.”

   Hingeley tells his clients about his office’s relationship with Peatross. If the client doesn’t want Peatross to hear the case based on what’s transpired, Hingeley’s office files a motion asking Peatross to recuse himself from the case. In the four months since Peatross has returned to the bench, only six clients have asked for a different judge. Peatross has dismissed each of these motions, maintaining that he is entirely impartial.

   The feasibility of that claim invites the philosophical debate of where and how we draw our emotional boundaries. It’s impossible to reach conclusions about Peatross’ vow of impartiality because the only person who could possibly know the internal workings of Paul Peatross the Judge is Paul Peatross the Man. But even then, can Peatross the Man know himself beyond a reasonable doubt?

   Taken as a whole, the six cases, including that of the alleged marijuana possessor, hold no clue yet, either. As of press time, only one case had been concluded. Another case has been dropped, three have not yet gone to trial, and one awaits sentencing.

   But whatever the outcome, on the afternoon Hingeley moved to suppress evidence against his alleged stoner client, Judge Peatross appeared cool, calm and collected. Was he on his best behavior given recent events? Only time will tell.

Bench pressed

 Each of the players in the Peatross drama testified before the Judicial Inquiry and Review Commission in June 2004. The following are excerpts from what Peatross, Hingeley and Camblos had to say for themselves.

“At the last minute, for the first time he looked at the case and decided he doesn’t want to treat it as a felony, and I thought that was inconsistent. I thought that took up a lot of time, that put a lot of people to work when he could have made that decision earlier, and I was hoping that he would understand that he should be more conscientious in how he was going to present his cases and make decisions earlier is what I was trying to encourage.”

-Judge Paul Peatross on Commonwealth’s Attorney Jim Camblos regarding the September 2003 case

“If I am lying to you, I invite you to remove me from office, because I cannot appear here before you and tell an untruth, and I am telling you the truth. That’s what happened.”

-Judge Paul Peatross on the December 2003 case

“I was mad at myself because I was not standing up to him more than I had been standing up to him, because of the way he treated us…I was taking the easier course many times of just not saying anything as opposed to saying something and getting snapped at…that’s why I said our professional relationship troubles me deeply.”

-Commonwealth’s Attorney Jim Camblos

“I was very concerned about [defense attorney] Llezelle personally because this was very, very difficult on her, but I was also concerned about, from an institutional standpoint, how this affected our office…Public Defenders are always struggling against a negative impression of the people that we have in our offices and the work that they do. So now I am faced with a situation where there is a public declaration by a Circuit Court Judge that one of the people in my office is unethical and lies to the court and is guilty of misconduct, so I had to deal with that.”

-Public Defender Jim Hingeley on Llezelle Dugger’s dismissal from the December 2003 case

In recent months the major food companies have been trying hard to convince Americans that they feel the pain of our expanding waistlines, especially when it comes to kids. Kraft announced it would no longer market Oreos to younger children, McDonald’s promoted itself as a salad producer and Coca-Cola said it won’t advertise to kids under 12. But behind the scenes it’s hardball as usual, with the junk food giants pushing the Bush Administration to defend their interests. The recent conflict over what America eats, and the way the government promotes food, is a disturbing example of how in Bush’s America corporate interests trump public health, public opinion and plain old common sense.

   The latest salvo in the war on added sugar and fat came July 14-15, when the Federal Trade Commission held hearings on childhood obesity and food marketing. Despite the fanfare, industry had no cause for concern; FTC chair Deborah Majoras had declared beforehand that the commission will do absolutely nothing to stop the rising flood of junk food advertising to children. In June the Department of Agriculture denied a request from the group Commercial Alert to enforce existing rules forbidding mealtime sales in school cafeterias of “foods of minimal nutritional value”—i.e., junk foods and soda pop. The department admitted that it didn’t know whether schools are complying with the rules, but, frankly, it doesn’t give a damn. “At this time, we do not intend to undertake the activities or measures recommended in your petition,” wrote Stanley Garnett, head of the USDA’s Child Nutrition Division.

   Conflict about junk food has intensified since late 2001, when a Surgeon General’s report called obesity an “epidemic.” Since that time, the White House has repeatedly weighed in on the side of Big Food. It worked hard to weaken the World Health Organization’s global anti-obesity strategy and went so far as to question the scientific basis for “the linking of fruit and vegetable consumption to decreased risk of obesity and diabetes.” Former Health and Human Services Secretary Tommy Thompson—then our nation’s top public-health officer—even told members of the Grocery Manufacturers Association to “’go on the offensive’ against critics blaming the food industry for obesity,” according to a November 12, 2002, GMA news release.

   Last year, during the reauthorization of the children’s nutrition programs, Republican Senator Peter Fitzgerald of Illinois attempted to insulate the government’s nutrition guidelines from the intense industry pressure that has warped the process to date. He proposed a modest amendment to move the guidelines from the USDA to the comparatively more independent Institute of Medicine. The food industry, alarmed about the switch, secured a number of meetings at the White House to get it to exert pressure on Fitzgerald. One irony of this fight was that the key industry lobbying came from the American Dietetic Association, described by one Congressional staffer as a “front for the food groups.” Fitzgerald held firm but didn’t succeed in enacting his amendment before he left Congress last year.

   By that time the industry’s lobbying effort had borne fruit, or perhaps more accurately, unhealthy alternatives to fruit. The new federal guidelines no longer contain a recommendation for sugar intake, although they do tell people to eat foods with few added sugars. The redesigned icon for the guidelines, created by a company that does extensive work for the junk food industry, shows no food, only a person climbing stairs.

   Growing industry influence is also apparent at the President’s Council on Physical Fitness. What companies has the government invited to be partners with the council’s Challenge program? Coca-Cola, Burger King, General Mills, Pepsico and other blue chip members of the “obesity lobby.” In January the council’s chair, former NFL star Lynn Swann, took money to appear at a public relations event for the National Automatic Merchandising Asso-ciation, a vending machine trade group activists have been battling on in-school sales of junk food.

Not a lot of subtlety is required to understand what’s driving Ad-ministration policy. It’s large infusions of cash. In 2004 “Rangers,” who bundled at least $200,000 each to the Bush/ Cheney campaign, included Barclay Resler, vice president for government and public affairs at Coca-Cola; Robert Leebern Jr., president of federal affairs at Troutman Sanders PAG, lobbyist for Coca-Cola; Richard Hohlt of Hohlt & Co., lobbyist for Altria, which owns about 85 percent of Kraft foods; and José “Pepe” Fanjul, president, vice chairman and COO of Florida Crystals Corp., one of the nation’s major sugar producers. Hundred-thousand-dollar men include Kirk Blalock and Marc Lampkin, both Coke lobbyists, and Joe Weller, chairman and CEO of Nestle USA. Altria also gave $250,000 to Bush’s inauguration this year, and Coke and Pepsi gave $100,000 each. These gifts are in addition to substantial sums given during the 2000 campaign.

   For their money, the industry has been able to buy into a strategy on obesity and food marketing that mirrors the approach taken by Big Tobacco. That’s hardly a surprise, given that some of the same companies and personnel are involved: Junk food giants Kraft and Nabisco are both majority-owned by tobacco producer Philip Morris, now renamed Altria.

   Similarity No. 1 is the denial that the problem (obesity) is caused by the product (junk food). Instead, lack of exercise is fingered as the culprit, which is why McDonald’s, Pepsi, Coke and others have been handing out pedometers, funding fitness centers and prodding kids to move around. When the childhood obesity issue first burst on the scene, HHS and the Centers for Disease Control funded a bizarre ad campaign called Verb, whose ostensible purpose was to get kids moving.

   This strategy has been evident in the halls of Congress as well. During child nutrition reauthorization hearings, the man some have called the Senator from Coca-Cola, Georgia’s Zell Miller, parroted industry talking points when he claimed that children are “obese not because of what they eat at lunchrooms in schools but because, frankly, they sit around on their duffs watching Eminem on MTV and playing video games.” And that, of course, is the fault not of food marketers but of parents. Miller’s office shut down a Senate Agriculture Committee staff discussion of a ban on soda pop in high schools by refreshing their memories that Coke is based in Georgia.

   A related ploy is to deny the nutritional status of individual food groups, claiming that there are no “good” or “bad” foods, and that all that matters is balance. So, for example, when the Administration attacked the WHO’s global anti-obesity initiative, it criticized what it called the “unsubstantiated focus on ‘good’ and ‘bad’ foods.” Of course, if fruits and vegetables aren’t healthy, then Coke and chips aren’t unhealthy. While such a strategy is so preposterous as to be laughable, it is already having real effects. Less than a month after Cadbury Schweppes, the candy and soda company, gave a multimillion-dollar grant to the American Diabetes Association, the association’s chief medical and scientific officer claimed that sugar has nothing to do with diabetes, or with weight. Industry has also bankrolled front groups like the Center for Consumer Freedom, an increasingly influential Washington outfit that demonizes public-health advocates as the “food police” and promotes the industry point of view.

   Meanwhile, public opinion is solidly behind more restrictions on junk food marketing aimed at children, especially in schools. A February Wall Street Journal poll found that 83 percent of American adults believe “public schools need to do a better job of limiting children’s access
to unhealthy foods like snack foods,
sugary soft drinks and fast food.” Two bills recently introduced in Congress, Massachusetts Senator Ted Kennedy’s Prevention of Childhood Obesity Act and Iowa Senator Tom Harkin’s Healthy Lifestyles and Prevention (HeLP) America Act, both place significant restrictions on the ability of junk food producers to market in schools.

   Interestingly, this is a crossover issue between red and blue states. Concern about obesity and excessive junk food marketing to kids is shared by people across the political spectrum, and some conservatives, such as Texas Agriculture Commissioner Susan Combs and the Eagle Forum’s Phyllis Schlafly, as well as California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger, have argued for restricting junk food marketing to children. This may be one of the reasons New York Senator Hillary Clinton has once again become vocal on the topic of marketing to children, although Senator Clinton has called not for government intervention but merely for industry self-regulation, requesting that the companies “be more responsible about the effect they are having”—exactly the policy the industry wants.

   A vigorous government response would clearly garner the sympathy of the majority of Americans. The growing chasm between what the public wants and the Administration’s protection of the profits of Big Food is a powerful example of the decline of democracy in this country. Let them eat chips!

Gary Ruskin is executive director of the nonprofit organization Commercial Alert, and Juliet Schor is a professor of sociology at Boston College. This article is reprinted with permission from the August 29 issue of The Nation.

Dear Ace: As I was strolling to Fridays After 5, I noticed a sign in the window of the former Virginia Diode company on W. Main (the building with the cool blue tile work façade). The sign was written in Arabic. What does it mean and who occupies the space?—Stan Skrit

Stan: Arabic, eh? Well, Ace has always had a gift for learning new languages—Klingon, Esperanto, Pig Latin—but unfortunately, he hasn’t gotten around to learning Arabic quite yet. But, Ace did see Lawrence of Arabia six times, so a translation was not totally out of the question.

   Standing in front of the blue-tiled building on W. Main Street, Ace realized that not only was Arabic an entirely different language, it was an entirely different alphabet! For a translation, he would need to consult an expert.

   After failing to reach the owners of the shop, Ace contacted Betsy Mesard, an Arabic-speaking Ph.D. student in the Religious Studies department at UVA. (Most of Ace’s acquaintances, it goes without saying, are terribly well-educated people.) According to Mesard, the sign on the building announces, “Halal Meat, Afghan Brand Market.”

   Halal meat? Afghan Market? What kind of establishment sells meat and winter blankets? Has Musictoday decided to bite the bullet and open up a company store? O.K., probably not.

   “Halal meat is the Muslim counterpart to Kosher. The Afghan market,” Mesard speculated, “will provide foods that comply with dietary requirements of the practicing Muslim community here in town.”

   Ace didn’t know this before, but Muslims regard eating as an act of worship, like prayer or meditation. Because of the sacred nature of the dining experience, food preparations must adhere to the teachings of the Qur’an. Halal meat is hand-butchered according to Qur’anic rules, the most important being that the name of God be pronounced over the animal at the time of the slaughter. Forbidden by the Prophet Mohammed to harm animals, Halal butchers are also required to use extremely sharp knives to ensure that animals are killed instantly with minimal suffering.

   According to industry projections, the $75 billion American ethnic food market is expected to grow by 50 percent in the next decade. While ethnic consumers make up 37 percent of that market, the increase seems to be in response to America’s more adventurous palate.

   Even though the market on W. Main has not opened yet, Ace is counting the days until he can stock up on halal meat and his other Afghani favorite—chili pepper-flavored gummy worms.

Dwight Yoakam had the look: long and lean with the big cowboy hat and the facial demeanor that suggested lonely and liking it. He had the voice: that extra little twang that suggests an education away from the schoolhouse.

 If you have yet to see Wedding Crashers, Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson play a pair of irreverent marriage counselors, and the opening scene is a funny mediation session between the lead characters and a couple in the midst of an ugly divorce and their lawyers. You have to pay attention, because the scene is dominated by Vaughn and Wilson, but Dwight Yoakam plays the future ex-husband who is about to lose his frequent flyer miles.

In the mid-1980s, Time magazine called Dwight Yoakam a renaissance man. A renaissance man possesses many talents, and in Dwight’s case that is hard to deny. But I would say that Yoakam is a musician who takes professional risks out of necessity. When he busted on the scene in 1984 with his EP A Town South of Bakersfield, he was already so rooted in the Bakersfield sound that he could have been Buck Owens incarnate. He had the look: long and lean with the big cowboy hat and the facial demeanor that suggested lonely and liking it. He had the voice: that extra little twang that suggests an education away from the schoolhouse. And he had the third element of the triple crown: that guitar player—Pete Anderson—who can turn a tune into a hit.

Yoakam was born in Kentucky in Pikesville Hospital, the same birthplace as Patty Loveless, but three months earlier. He was raised in Columbus, Ohio, and his mother owned a good record collection including the essentials: Johnny Cash, Hank Williams and Buck Owens. After a brief stint at Ohio State, Dwight moved to Nashville where the scene was awash in the success of Urban Cowboy and a little too polished for his liking. Yoakam hooked up with guitarist Anderson there, and together they moved out to Los Angeles where Yoakam’s rootsy country music fit in nicely with some of the roots music purveyors of the punk rock scene, musicians like Dave Alvin and The Blasters, Los Lobos and X. The punk scenes in L.A. and New York each tended to be inclusive of other styles of music, as long as they were genuine. The New York scene included the Latino influence in Mink Deville and Garland Jeffries, and some reggae as well. L.A.’s roots rock was based on “American Music.”

Four years later, Yoakam’s debut EP was released. That was the time when MCA Records President Tony Brown had begun signing new, traditional-sounding country acts in Nashville, and Music City seemed a bit more interested in its own family tree. Brown typically gets credit for signing Lyle Lovett, Steve Earle, Nanci Griffith and others to MCA, ushering in a period of neo-traditionalism in country music.

In 1986, Reprise Records re-released Yoakam’s EP as Guitars, Cadillacs, etc. etc… with extra tracks. Even the title suggests that Yoakam was no slave to country music’s legacy, and it was well received by not only country audiences, but by rock audiences as well. The CD got a lot of play on college radio. Dwight’s first single was a cover of Johnny Horton’s “Honky Tonk Man” that made it to No. 3 on the country music charts. His next LP release in 1987, Hillbilly Deluxe, had four Top 10 hits, and in 1988 Dwight hit No. 1 with Buck Owens’ “Streets of Bakersfield.” In the music business, a No. 1 song is a very big deal, and it solidified Yoakam’s position as a star. Dwight’s sound was not original, but it was very genuine, and his tunes were so good that his appeal was extensive.

Yoakam’s records steadily garnered fans and in 1993, he released his most popular record to date, the fantastic This Time, with its perfect blend of commercial honky tonk tunes, radio-friendly production and extraordinary musicianship.

The fact is, Yoakam was making his living with someone else’s musical style. Twenty years had passed since Owens was writing hits, and Yoakam was so naturally adept at the music that it may have seemed that you were listening to this great new Bakersfield sound for the first time. But to sustain his career, he had to take chances, though not necessarily big chances (Dwight’s ambient record is still in the can). Still, he needed to take some risks to keep the audience’s attention. As an artist you can lead fans down unexplored paths a little at a time and that is what Yoakam has always been savvy enough to do.

He tried his hand at acting, getting small parts in very fine movies like Red Rock West and putting in a memorable performance in the sleeper hit Sling Blade. He had unquestionable success in the movie business and in 2000, Yoakam wrote, directed and acted in South of Heaven, West of Hell. The movie had a wildly eccentric cast, including Bridget Fonda, Billy Bob Thornton and Paul Reubens, and both critics and audiences were cool toward it. Nevertheless, Yoakam had his writing and directorial debut under his belt. O.K., John Mellencamp has directed a movie and James Carville has written a children’s book. But one thing that you cannot say about Yoakam is that he lacks ambition. Dwight has said about movies, “Films are miracles in no minor way when they come to fruition at all.”

South of Heaven, West of Hell was not the only thing that Dwight had under his belt, because he ended up in a relationship with co-star Fonda. That relationship ended in 2002, very close to the release of Population Me, a record that Dwight says is about “taking care of yourself first.”

Dwight’s professional life took a turn as well when he finished out his contract with Reprise Records with a record of covers, Used Cuts, and suddenly had some decisions to make about how his music was going to get out to the people. Audium Records in Nashville approached Yoakam with the opportunity of starting his own label, and the deal was sealed when Dwight set up Electrodisc-Audium to release his own records and those of anyone else he might care to endorse. Population Me, Yoakam’s 17th record, was the first release on the newly established label. Dwight’s newest release, Blame The Vain, is on the good New West label that also offers discs of Delbert McClinton, John Hiatt and Buddy Miller.

Population Me was followed very closely by his split with Anderson who, besides being his longtime guitarist, also produced his records. The two had been together since their days in Nashville before either had a record; in some ways they could be considered the country music version of Mick and Keith, although Anderson’s public profile was always extremely low. Anderson produced most of Dwight’s records and he gave that music a sound that was always spare, yet incredibly interesting to listen to. He was the Fender-bending icing on Dwight’s honky tonk cupcakes. The duo claim in public that the split was about creative differences, but they ended up in court to have their creative differences sorted out, so you, the listener, can make that call.

Yoakam takes production credit for his most recent CD, Blame The Vain, which came out in June. The studio band is the same band that will appear at the Pavilion on August 20 and they are very good. New guitarist Keith Gattis sure sounds like a student of Anderson, especially when it comes to finding those low notes. Drummer Mitch Marine is strong and can likely play with anybody, and reports say that bassist Taras Prodaniuk plays the upright live, which should be great.

When I first picked up Blame The Vain, I had to look twice to make sure I had not gotten a Roxy Music record. The artwork throughout is highly stylized, featuring a gamalicious brunette model who is posed to resemble a mannequin. (Is that Dwight’s Jerry Hall?) And then there is Dwight. Designer duds and pouty poses refer to the CD title, but I might have preferred that Dwight not make a personal appearance on the cover.

Blame The Vain kicks off with the rockin’ title track that sounds like an amped-up Byrds meets Richard Thompson tune with beautiful droning guitar. And my hat goes off to Dwight’s songwriting: He can still sneak a nice bridge into a tune, which seems to have gone missing on the radio these days. A pure country music waltz, “Lucky That Way,” a la Merle follows. “Intentional Heartache” seems like a real stab at a hit single. It is a tune about a wife who is pissed off about the breakup of her marriage, and she drives to North Carolina to toss her ex’s stuff, including his boots and a signed Dale Jr. poster, into his mother’s yard. Dwight nods to Buck Owens on “Does It Show,” right down to the lyrics about “love’s biggest clown.” “Three Good Reasons” is the shuffle that Dwight can write in his sleep, and “Just Passing Time” and “I’ll Pretend” can each separate a drunk at the bar from all of his spare quarters.

Yoakam claims that he had The Beatles on his mind when he was writing this record, and “She’ll Remember” is the first piece of evidence, with its weird John Cale spoken-word lyric over the rhythm of “Tomorrow Never Knows,” and then the sudden shift into an interestingly arranged Yoakam original. But even the drum fill could have come from Ringo. And “When I First Came Here” has a conspicuously Beatles feel.

Lyrically, the record is as focused on the breakup of relationships and the pain that follows as it can be. Except for the title tune, which is a rumination on blame, every tune is a sore lament about a lover not turning out as expected. Does Dwight expect us to think that his personal life is not in these songs?

The final three songs begin: “When I first came here I was empty, lost and weak;” “Watch how she tore me apart;” and “Take her away, but don’t let her see me.” Though one can make the assumption that the end of a relationship found its way into these songs, Yoakam says, “I don’t journal my life. I don’t find it that interesting.”

For all of Blame’s alleged restlessness, the tunes that make the record are still the ones that conjure up Buck Owens in his heyday. Few artists change music from the inside out, and do it in a way that takes millions of fans with them. Bach, The Beatles, James Brown, Bob Marley—they were all making music from the influence of others, and yet they managed to internalize the music to such a degree that they transformed it into something completely new.

Like his L.A. peers Los Lobos, Dwight has tried spinning his musical career in different directions, but he always comes back to Point A, that is, guitars and Cadillacs. Los Lobos, on the other hand, have radically shifted direction numerous times from the traditional La Pistola, to the rock-meets-Tejano of The Neighborhood, to the very Waitsy Colossal Head. While the Lobos may have sacrificed part of their audience to pursue new directions, Dwight has always been on point commercially. And although there may not be tunes as picture perfect as “Little Ways” and “Johnson’s Love” from the early albums, Dwight is still writing good, strong tunes after 20 years.

Dwight has sold 23 million records altogether—go ahead and count them. If that is not a sign of vitality, then what is? Fans have stayed with him for all those years and records. And I have never talked to one person who said that they went to see Dwight and had a so-so time. So get that Keith Urban CD out of the player, and come see a performer with a genuine connection to country music’s tradition. Dwight can be considered The Mailman of country music because he always delivers. It’s going to be a very good time. Dwight Yoakam and his band will be at tshe Charlottesville Pavilion on Saturday, August 20.

WHO: Dwight Yoakam

WHAT: A country superstar who has consistantly delivered since the early 1980s

WHEN: Saturday, August 20, 7:30pm

WHERE: Charlottesville Pavilion, east end of the Downtown Mall

HOW MUCH: $27-41.50

MORE INFO: 800-594-TIXX;

www.charlottesvillepavilion.com

Mr. Yoakam goes to Hollywood

Dwight’s filmography

Red Rock West (1992)

Played a truck driver in this thriller about a hitman hired to kill an unfaithful wife. Directed by John Dahl.

The Little Death (1995)

Played Bobby Lomax in this mildly entertaining, but predictable, thriller. Directed by Jan Verheyen.

Sling Blade (1996)

Played Doyle Hargraves in this drama about a traumatized man starting over in a small town. Directed by Billy Bob Thornton.

Painted Hero (1997)

Played Virgil Kidder in this drama about rodeo riders. Directed by Terry Benedict.

The Newton Boys (1998)

Played Brentwood Glasscock in the 1920s action film about bank robbers. Directed by Richard Linklater.

The Minus Man (1999)

Played Detective Blair in this serial killer drama starring Owen Wilson. Directed by Hampton Fancher.

South of Heaven, West of Hell (2000)

Directed and starred as Valentine Casey in this critically panned Western, which he also wrote.

Panic Room (2002)

Played Raoul in the summer blockbuster thriller starring Jodie Foster. Directed by David Fincher.

Hollywood Homicide (2003)

Played Leroy Wasley in this LAPD crime film about a rap murder starring Harrison Ford and Josh Hartnett. Directed by Ron Shelton.

3-Way (2004)

Played Herbert in the sexy noir-thriller remake of Gil Brewer’s pulp novel Wild to Possess.

The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada (2005)

Played Sheriff Belmont in the south-of-the-border drama
that scored big at the Cannes Film Festival. Directed by
Tommy Lee Jones.

Wedding Crashers (2005)

Played Mr. Kroeger in the bachelors-behaving-badly comedy starring Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn. Directed by David Dobkin.—Anne Metz