I think this may be the longest I’ve gone without posting since I started this blog. I got completely distracted by the visit of Paul Weeks, my friend from college, which was immediately followed by a short and exhausting trip to the US to get our house back from the tenants. So I will probably do two or three posts, as opposed to one gigantic post, in order to catch up.

General Thoughts on Paul’s Visit: Paul was my friend and my suite-mate for my last semester at Bowdoin. He wound up marrying Judie’s roommate and best college friend, Gigi. Paul and Gigi ended up in Bangor, Maine (Paul is a Maine guy), where Paul practiced law for many years. Gigi had a long fight with cancer and died about a year ago. About three years ago, Paul had a blood clot on his spine, which, despite various surgeries and treatments, has left him semi-paralyzed from the waist down. He can walk short distances with a walker, but for the kind of traveling around London that was required for his visit, he needed a wheelchair, which we borrowed from a friend.

Dealing with someone in a wheelchair was a new experience for me. To begin with, there were places where we simply could not go (i.e.: the Underground, The Tower of London, Kew Gardens, etc.) And everything took a lot longer, for a variety of reasons. Bathrooms were sometimes an issue. On the plus side, everyone we met (who wasn’t walking along obliviously staring at their smart phone) was incredibly nice and went out of their way to try to be helpful. The London buses are great for wheelchairs and the entrance fees for everything was reduced and I got to go in free as his companion/pusher. Taxis here hold a wheelchair in the back seat easily and have ramps. I developed a whole new appreciation of sidewalks. Is it smooth? (Cobblestones must be avoided at all costs.) Is it level? Where is the curb cut-out? Small steps which I had never even noticed (like the ones to get into New Unity) were suddenly an obstacle to be taken seriously. It is a bit tiring too. Paul and the chair probably weighed in the range of 200 pounds. And I had to lean forward a bit while pushing, which eventually got to my back. I was happy to push him about, just I was delighted to have him visit. But the added complexities caused by Paul’s relatively manageable disabilities was a revelation.

Our Visit to The Old Bailey: One of the things that Paul expressed interest in doing was a visit to see a part of a trial at The Old Bailey. If you have ever been a litigator (or a fan of “Rumpole of The Bailey”), it is just one of those things you have to do. I contacted our friend, Phil Saunders, who is a barrister with the City of London, and asked for advice on getting Paul in and on what case to see. To my surprise and delight, he and his fellow City barrister (also named Phil Saunders), arranged for us to be let in the back entrance and to be met by their friend, Charlie. This turned out to be Charles Hently, who is in charge of the operations at The Old Bailey. His official titles are The Secondary of London and Under Sheriff, and High Bailiff of Southwark. He took us up to his office, served us coffee and sat with us for 40 minutes telling us stories about the problems running an old courthouse, which sometimes host trials of terrorists. He is worried about the Conservative government’s budget cuts (in the name of austerity and shrinking the size of government) which has forced him to layoff guards and make do with an antiquated security system. He had some great stories about fights that had to be broken up during trials and recesses and told us another about having snipers on the roof for a big case and subsequently having the roof spring leaks because the snipers coffee cups had blocked the downspouts. He then took us on a short personal tour of the old part of the building, featuring a truly spectacular Grand Hall with a dome. (While there has been a court and/or a prison on this site for many centuries, the actual building today was built in 1907 and expanded in 1972. But a part of it is still built on the old Roman wall.) There are six old courtrooms and twelve new ones.

Mr. Hently told us that he had planned to take us to a murder trial involving four defendants (The Old Bailey is reserved for trials for murder, terrorism or especially ugly and notorious felonies), but he had found out that morning that three of the defendants were planning to turn on the fourth and he didn’t want us in the public gallery with the families in case a fight started. So he dropped us at a murder trial and introduced us to one of the defendant’s barristers, who gave us a little background. The victim had been slashed and stabbed in the chest, following a prolonged session of drinking and drug taking with the accused, who left and returned with his brother after an argument. The defense was apparently that the victim was depressed and crazy and killed himself. (A bit unlikely, but I guess you have to go with what you’ve got.) The part of the trial we got to see was a bit boring, as it involved a professional crime scene investigator identifying photos of the carnage (but not including the body) and of the remains of the emergency medical crew’s attempts to save the victim. The barrister for the prosecution asked so many leading questions that Paul and I were looking at each other, thinking “Why no objection?” It reached the point where the barrister was basically testifying and the witness had nothing to do but say yes once in a while. A bit weird from a lawyer’s point of view. (I could see why the defense didn’t want to interrupt too often and prolong the obvious, thereby possibly annoying the jury. But I would have said something.) Anyway, it was a truly memorable morning.

I’d encourage you to read up on the history of the Old Bailey. Here is my favorite story: In 1670 William Penn (later to found Pennsylvania) and William Mead were tried for preaching to a crowd in the street, after having been ejected from their meeting-house. (It was illegal to have non-Anglican services at the time.) After the trial and instructions from the judge, four members of the jury refused to vote guilty. They were berated by the Judge and sent back. After further deliberation, the jury acquitted Mead and found Penn guilty of a lesser charge (“preaching to an assembly”). The jury was locked up overnight without food or heat. The next day, the jury stuck to their verdict, despite bullying from the bench, and were locked up fora second night. On the third day, the jury acquitted both Mead and Penn. The judges accepted the verdict after quizzing each juror and then fined each one for following their own “judgments and opinions” rather than the advice given by the court and imprisoned them until the fines were paid. Four of the jurors refused to pay (you’ve got to love them by this point) and remained in prison while they appealed the fines. The higher court threw out the fines as improper and set the precedent that jurors should rule according to their conscience, the rule of jurisprudence that has been followed ever since.

More to come