TICK TOCK: Fifty years is the blink of an eye. It’s also a very long time. It takes 50 years, for example, for the star known as the Dog Star to make a complete celestial orbit around its heavenly companion, a white dwarf known as Sirius B. Fifty years is also the time between the intergalactic house cleanings conducted by the Milky Way in which dead stars are swept out by unimaginably violent supernova events.
That’s 50 years.
Here in Santa Barbara, 50 years is how long it’s been since the last sitting judge got beaten by a challenger. In Santa Barbara, it’s also the length of time that the most recent beaten sitting judge — Thomas Adams — has actually served. Adams, an older white guy, lost his seat to a younger Latino challenger — in his forties, not his eighties — relatively unknown within legal circles, a Santa Barbara attorney named Luis Esparza.
While the results may not yet be “official-official,” trust me, the fat lady has sung and the clock is not turning back. It’s up to Esparza to demonstrate who he is and what this means for the dispensation of what we call justice in this excruciatingly raw state of human history.
Even in the best of times, it’s a punishing job. Judges see the worst of people on a regular basis. Over time, many wearing the black robes succumb to delusions of godhood.
Fifty years ago, there was a knock-down, drag-out fight between rough-around-the-edges incumbent judge Floyd Dodson and unknown newcomer Bruce Dodds. Dodson was an unapologetic, good old boy appointed by then governor Ronald Reagan. Dodds, who sat briefly on the Democratic Central Committee, accused Dodson of being rude, arrogant, vindictive, punitive, and extravagant, all of which was true.
Dodds, the nobody, swept in with 65 percent of the vote. And in short order, he too became famous for being rude, arrogant, vindictive, and punitive. He was never accused of extravagance.
Speaking as a reporter, I can testify that sitting in his courtroom actually hurt. He’d sweep seemingly pre-provoked. Dodds didn’t breathe; he seethed.
As a mediator, Dodds used his bad-cop persona to good effect, scaring recalcitrant parties into settling. In such sessions, Dodds would sometimes seek counsel from a crystal ball he used as a prop. When ABC reported this, Dodds sued for defamation. He lost.
The state judicial council threw the book at Dodds several times for conduct unbecoming a judge — yelling at a witness who was trying to testify how she’d been sexually abused by a doctor. But nothing really stuck.
Do we all become our monsters?
Back in a 2002 judicial election, North County Judge Diana Hall faced a hotshot prosecutor from the DA’s office. It looked to be a real showdown. Hall freaked. She was living in the closet with a longtime partner who wanted out of the closet. If her gay relationship came out, Hall was convinced she’d be toast. This caused tensions between the two women. Arguments morphed into fights. Guns reportedly came out. Hall allegedly threatened her partner’s dogs. Hall drove off in a car. Alcohol was involved. The judge got pulled over.
What’s sad about this — aside from everything — is that Hall was flinching at shadows. It came out her opponent — the hotshot prosecutor who specialized in child welfare cases — had all kinds of porn and adult websites on his office computer. Bad look. He was suddenly unemployed and disappeared. Hall won, but when all her messy details came out, she was brought up on multiple charges. Though many didn’t stick, the state’s judicial review board yanked her from the bench.
It’s tempting to look at the Hall meltdown as a tragic reminder of just how far gay rights have had to come since not very long ago.
It’s impossible not to have compassion for the trap Hall felt she was in, but it’s important to recognize it was also self-imposed. After all, there was another gay judge holding court up in North County at the same time, Judge Barbara Beck.
Beck was the first woman to sit on the Santa Barbara bench, a former public defender surprisingly appointed by the very law-and-order governor George Deukmejian — a former prosecutor himself. Before that, Beck had served in the Air Force.
I can’t say for certain if Beck ever officially “came out,” but everyone knew. And no one — not even up in conservative North County — seemed to care. At least about that. She lived openly with her partner and spoke openly with the media.
She also openly butted heads with then Santa Barbara District Attorney Tom Sneddon — and about issues of real consequences. Most notably was over the then-draconian Three Strikes law that allowed DAs to demand life sentences for people who had been convicted of three crimes — some of which were very minor. DA Sneddon was as combative a prosecutor as could be found in California. He said Three Strikers were just “serving life on the installment plan.” Why not just throw away the key, he argued.
Beck believed judges had the discretionary authority to strike prior charges from the list the DA’s office had amassed against a given defendant if she felt they were not serious enough. Sneddon insisted she needed his permission first. Beck was known to call Sneddon “ridiculous.” Beck and Sneddon fought the issue up the ladder of appeals. Beck won.
On the bench, Beck also used her black robe to push for mental health and drug courts, modest initiatives today, but back then positively ground breaking. I don’t know if she was a great judge or a great person. What I do know is that I liked her.
Guess what? She stepped down after 20 years.
To Tom Adams, thank you. To Luis Esparza, congratulations and good luck. We’re all going to need it.