In
the early summer of 1964 I walked into a trailer located on the Max Moscow
Motel
parking
lot on West Colfax Ave in Lakewood, Colorado. That was the headquarters of
the Jefferson County Democratic Party. There I met Joyce Jamison, the Secretary
of
the party. I told her I wanted to join the Teen Dems. She told me there was no
active group, but suggested we could start a new one. So together we formed a
plan
to build a new Jefferson County Teen Democrats. By the early fall, we had over
120 active
members.
Among
the various things we did as an organization was to help distribute
campaign
fliers for the slate of Democrats running for elective office in Jefferson
County,
a
large suburb west of Denver.It was at my first such distribution that I met Joyce's
husband,
Frank
Jamison, who was running for county judge along with Daniel Shannon and Charlie
Flett.
I
knew nothing of any of the candidates qualifications other than they were
Democrats. That
was
good enough for me. Our group of Teen Dems walked up and down the streets
knocking on doors
to
distribute the literature. At the end of our task, Frank Jamison provided
donuts(which he
fondly
called 'donies'). I thought "I like this guy". We had some Teen Dem
meetings at the Jamison house
where
I learned that they had four children all younger than me. Joyce and Frank were
both very
outgoing
and gregarious. I liked them both and envied their children in having such
great parents
because
that family was the opposite of the one in which I lived.
1964
was a landslide year for Democrats in Colorado. LBJ led the Democratic Party to
victory
even
in normally Republican Jefferson County. Both Daniel Shannon and Frank Jamison
won election
to
the county bench. One afternoon after Frank Jamison was sworn into office, I
went to the
county
courthouse to visit him. I had never
known the judge or anyone else of importance at that
point
in my life. I was then 18 years old but very naive in the ways of the world.
The judge
sensed
my naivete which I will relate later. We formed the beginning of a lifetime
relationship
in
which he became the most important person in my life.
My
father died the week before I graduated from high school. My parents were
divorced. MY
mother
lived in Minneapolis. I had lived in Denver with my dad. I had planned to go to
college
but
did not have any money to do so. Neither parent had been supportive of me going
to college.
I
received Social Security upon my father's death which helped pay some of my
college
education
until I reached age 21. Judge Jamison offered me a job at the county courthouse
as a
civil
clerk during the year between my freshman and sophomore years in college. The
money I
earned
that year was pretty good for a college student and that helped pay a good
portion of
my
sophomore year's education. In 1968 I had the opportunity to work as Judge
Jamison's bailiff
from late
June until college resumed in early September.
The
judge offered me a job as his clerk if and when I got admitted to law
school.
That
occurred in late 1969 and my job title was upgraded and I got a big pay
raise. I was
the
judge's legal staff assistant. The judge
had convinced the Colorado Supreme Court to
create
the position of legal staff assistant to offer law students first-hand
courtroom
experience
by handling routine courtroom responsibilities and doing legal research
for a judge.
I
don't want to overstate what my job was because I was still essentially a
bailiff who got a
pretty
hefty paycheck compared to what a lot of grown men with families to support
were making at
that
time. Among my duties was calling court
to order, swearing in witnesses, and keeping the
court docket
moving. My most important job was making
morning coffee and having everything
ready
for the judge when he arrived. On many occasions I would have to drive over to
King
Soopers
to buy fresh "donies" so we could all get our coffee and sugar rush
before meeting the public.
I would
bang gavel, the judge would enter the courtroom, mount the bench and dispense with justice. That was our running
gag. The thing is
he never took himself all that seriously. He took the job seriously, but not
himself. We had
a discussion one day about his being a "judge" and what that meant to
him. I recall him saying
something like he did not judge his fellow man but instead judged what his
fellow man had
done. He did not put himself above others and sit in judgment of them as people
but he did judge
their acts. After I became an attorney and appeared in courtrooms across the state I
quickly learned that few judges shared the same ethos with Judge Jamison. Most
judges I appeared
before acted pretty damned important.
Judge
Jamison did, however, require deference to his position as a judge, but not to
him.
I
recall the day I went to the Jury Commissioner's office to retrieve a jury
venire (panel
of
prospective jurors). I think there were 18 or 24 veniremen that I took back to
the courtroom.
Except
one man walked away from the panel between the commissioner's office and
the courtroom.
The
judge was not amused. He ordered a bench warrant for the arrest of the
reluctant juror
in
front of the jury panel We proceeded
with the trial that day.
Within
a few days the missing juror had been arrested.
He posted bond and later appeared before
the
judge where he had the opportunity to explain why he avoided coming to
court with his fellow
jurors.
The man gave some lame excuse. (People always have lame excuses for
their actions.)
I
remember what happened next fairly well. The judge imposed a heft fine (about
$1,000 which
was
a lot of money back then) and a 30 day jail sentence which was to commence
immediately.
The
judge said "Mr. Bailiff, call the Sheriff to escort the defendant to the
county jail" or something
to
that affect. Then the judge motioned for me to approach the bench. He told me to go into the clerk's office, not to call the Sheriff, and to come back out and watch the defendant to make sure he did not leave the courtroom.
I
went to the clerk's office, had a cup of coffee or did something to occupy a few minutes, and returned to the courtroom
and where after I kept a steady eye
on the the reluctant juror. After the entire docket had been called the judge order
the man back before the
court. The judge said that he hoped spending the day in court watching people
come before the court
had impressed upon the man the importance of our judicial system and how
important it is that citizens
have the right to appear before a judge or a jury to have a trial to determine
a person's
conduct.
The judge suspended the 30 day jail sentence on condition that the man
successfully complete
one year of supervised probation.
Then
there was the case of the little seven year old boy who had belt marks all over
his back, legs, and
buttocks. His grandmother discovered the welts while giving the kid a bath. The
child's parents had
divorced and the kid was spending the weekend at his dad's mother's house. The
grandmother called her
son who came over and saw the boy's body. They called the police who came and
took photos and found
out that the mother had a boyfriend who lived with the boy and his mother. As I
recall the boy wet
his bed for which the boyfriend punished him.
The
boyfriend was a big burly tow truck driver. This guy looked like someone you'd
expect to see on
an episode of The Closer or LAW AND ORDER Special Victims Unit. It was
pathetic. There was this tiny
little boy who was severely beaten by this big ape of a man. The jury promptly convicted convicted him.
The judge did something I never saw or heard him do before. He said something
to the affect: "The Court
is so outraged by your conduct that it cannot fairly impose sentence at this
time. You are ordered
to report to the probation department for a pre-sentence evaluation." The judge
never expressed
outrage at anybody or anything. He was visibly angry. I could hear the rage in his voice. It scared me and I wasn't the guy in trouble. The guy
deserved as much
jail time as the law would allow. But the judge resisted doing that.
 |
| He made this face for the camera - he never looked like this! |
About
a month later the defendant appeared in court with his attorney who appeared small by comparison. Just seeing
the
two stand next to each other showed just how damned big that oaf was compared
to that little boy.
The judge gave the defendant a year in jail or something like that but then suspended
the sentence on the
condition he successfully complete a year's probation. I think everybody who
watched that trial was
pissed. I know I was. I have never gotten over the cruelty of what that man did
that little kid.
Then
there was the case of the "junior dick" as I called him. John was a 16 or 17
year old boy got into major trouble
by driving his car at high speeds through multiple jurisdictions with cops in
hot pursuit. The chase
began in Arvada. It moved through Wheat Ridge and then into Lakewood Colorado. The
Jefferson County Sheriff
and the Colorado State Patrol were on this kid's tail with red lights and
sirens flashing as well. This is the kind of pursuit you'd see on that L.A. TV station that has helicopters following bad boys in cars as they try to elude the police. In this case, John was eventually
stopped, taken into custody, and hauled before his honor Francis W. Jamison for
a late afternoon
advisement of his rights.
If
they cops wanted a piece of this kid's flesh, they got the wrong judge. The
judge read the charges
and ordered the boy to appear in court with his parents at a later date.
Instead of putting the
boy in jail, he let him go free on his own recognizance. I'm sure the cops were
pretty upset with
what the judge did. But what he did next was more amazing. As he left the
courthouse the judge saw John sitting on the steps near the parking lot where the
judges parked their cars.
The judge talked to John and asked if his parents were coming. No, they were
not.
John
explained he had a run-in with his girlfriend's father, an important attorney in Arvada. This father did not like John
and used his position
as an attorney to get the police to go after the boy. That was why John was
fleeing the cops. The judge took John home
with him. He stayed with the Jamison family for quite a while. Much later the judge talked
to the District Attorney to hire John to
run errands for the department. That's why I called him a "junior dick" for
"junior detective". All of this occurred
more than forty years ago. I am fuzzy on what all happened, but I know that
John,like a lot of other
people, maintained a life long contact with Judge Jamison.
There
were lots of boys like John but not enough bedrooms at the Jamison house to
take care of all of
them. Frank or Joyce had four or five kids like John who spent considerable time with the Jamisons until they could transition back to the world. Judge Jamison founded Jefferson Hall as a safe place for trouble youth
to have a clean place to live
that was an alternative to incarceration.
The
judge also founded the volunteer probation program that became a part of the
Jefferson County Court system.
Area residents were trained in how to help youths and adults in a less
structured program than
traditional probation. This program gave judges a less costly alternative to professional supervised probation and yet gave the court a tool to keep track of people who had had a brush with the law that required further monitoring.
Judge
Jamison left the bench in 1970 to become a full time Professor at the
University of Denver College of Law
where he taught evidence and civil procedure. The judge had been a member of the night time teaching faculty before then. He and Joyce and four teen aged children.
The university offered free
tuition to family members of the teaching faculty. I think the opportunity to provide free college educations to his children was a motivating factor in the decision to leave the bench. Over the years Judge Jamison
sat in as visiting judge
in many jurisdictions. He was engaged by the Colorado Supreme
Court to persuade errant judges errant judges to resign rather than face disbarment.
I
maintained contact with Judge Jamison over the years. When I eventually figured out that I
was gay I
went to his office to let him know. He said "I was wondering when you
would figure it out." He was never judgmental
about me. Contrary, he more supportive of me than anyone in my family. His
laugh and buoyant personality
made all the bad stuff one faces in life to away. Time does heal all (or mostly
all) wounds.
If anyone actually reads all of what I have written I must admit I have made my share of mistakes in life.
When I made big ones,
I
would go see him or call him. It was maybe like a Catholic who goes to a priest
to confess one's sins. He didn't
bless me but he didn't judge me either. We talked out whatever I may have done. It became a learning experience.
Judge
Francis W. Jamison passed away on February 26, 2013. He was 83 years old. I
went to Denver to attend his memorial service.
I had not been back to Denver for twenty years. This was the largest memorial
service I ever attended. There were over
four hundred people there including Supreme Court and lower court judges,
former and current District
Attorneys and Deputies, and attorneys of all types. The Dean of the Law School
was there. Former students
of Professor Jamison were there. Friends and family were there. They were all
there on a very cold
Friday afternoon to honor the man who was their teacher, mentor, colleague,
friend, father, grandfather, great grandfather, husband, soldier, and a former meat cutter who made good.
A
former bailiff who later became the District Attorney in a southern Colorado
county recounted his time working
for Judge Jamison. He told the funny stories and fond remembrances that I
thought only I had with this
man. Another attorney whose name I had heard over the years had been Professor
Jamison's teaching assistant.
He recounted the tails of working for and learning from this man who he felt as
close to as his
father. The Dean of the Law School recounted on his first day at D.U. as a professor. Frank Jamison introduced himself and invited the new prof to join him and his group for lunch. It was a simple gesture, but it was that simple thing that made a huge impact on this man who later became Dean. Frank Jamison's nephew told of how his uncle (who he felt was more like a big brother) was the most important man in his life. The judge had had the same affect on the lives of other men and women just like
me. I was not alone in
my admiration or respect for this man.
I
know that everything I have in the world is a result of my having walked into
the trailer on West Colfax
Avenue and meeting Joyce Jamison who extended a hand of friendship to me and
later having met the man
who shared donies with the teen dems who worked on his campaign to become a
county judge. I will be
forever grateful for the opportunity to have known this truly remarkable human
being.
White Street Pier is an easy nighttime stroll away
