Wake and funeral arrangements announced for retired Appellate Court Justice Thomas J. O'Brien

Retired Appellate Court Justice Thomas J. O'Brien passed away this past Saturday at the age of 92. First elected to the Circuit Court in 1976, O'Brien concluded his judicial career on the Appellate Court, serving pursuant to Supreme Court appointment from 1994 to 1995.

O'Brien will be waked this coming Monday, December 16, from 4:00 to 8:00 p.m., at Glueckert Funeral Home, 1520 N. Arlington Heights Rd, Arlington Heights. The funeral Mass will be celebrated on Tuesday, December 17, at 10:30 a.m., at St. Alphonsus Liguori Church, 411 N. Wheeling, Prospect Heights. There will be additional visitation at the church from 9:30 to 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday morning.

O'Brien's daughter Carol and I worked together on the Loyola Phoenix back in the day. The Phoenix even endorsed O'Brien's successful 1976 judicial campaign. Granted, the endorsement was probably not dispositive....

Although I suppose it looks rather presumptuous in print, my legal career sort of 'tracked' O'Brien's judicial career. As a newly-minted lawyer, I appeared in front of him when he was hearing Municipal jury motions on the 13th floor of the Daley Center. O'Brien was soon promoted to the Law Division Motion Court... and I, also more seasoned, was soon arguing motions before him regularly there.

Many lawyers may remember that Judge O'Brien used to have a binder with him on the bench, chock full of citaitons that he would toss out while deciding substantive motions at their first hearing. I wasn't the only one writing these down while waiting for my case to be called. It was not then the custom to automatically give 28 days to respond and 14 days to reply; Judge O'Brien would decide if a particular motion merited this special setting.

I had a number of these contested motions, usually on behalf of insurance company clients. Judge O'Brien was no fan of insurance companies. So when these afternoon hearings took place, I knew how they were going to turn out as soon as O'Brien took the bench. If he was cheerful and complimentary -- praising the brief I'd written, for example -- I knew I was certain to lose. On the other hand, if he came out looking slightly pained, maybe a little upset, I knew I had a shot. Judge O'Brien may not have liked my clients, but he followed the law; he looked -- he looked carefully -- to see if the law gave him an 'out' -- but he went, if not always willingly, where the law led.

No one can ask more than that from any judge.

And if I lost -- when I lost, as I often did -- Judge O'Brien always had an explanation. A reason. A flaw in my logic. An error in the procedure followed by the insurer on this occasion. Something. I have never yet met a client who was satisfied with a loss, but the ability to provide a cogent, plausible explanation for a disappointing result sure helped.

I appeared before O'Brien at least once when he was on the Appellate Court. I had a great theory, I thought. The way I saw it, all I needed was in Section I of my brief. I laid it out before the panel at oral argument... and, quite full of myself, said something like, "if you accept this, I can stop right here." Justice O'Brien punctured my balloon, but in a nice way: "No," he said, "why don't you go on?" (I won that one... just not on my pet theory.)

But I will end this reminiscence with one more Motion Court story. Opposing counsel and I were arguing a discovery motion, and like Grant after the Battle of Spottsylvania Courthouse, I was prepared to fight it out on this line if it took all summer. My opponent was similarly inclined. After we'd both spouted quite a bit, Judge O'Brien cut us off. He reminded us that the courtroom was full and that he couldn't inconvenience everyone else while waiting for us to finish beating each other up. He directed us to the jury box, saying he would give us a full hearing at the end of the call -- not that half hour motion call, we understood that instantly -- but after the last motion of the morning -- probably about noon.

Of course, I would like to think that I was the good guy here, but there's only a 50-50 chance. Eventually, though, one of us leaned over to the other and said -- quietly -- very quietly, so as not to incur any further judicial displeasure -- "I guess we're being kept after school." Whichever one of us said it, it broke the ice, and we'd soon worked out an agreed order.

Still, we waited. We both realized that premature presentation of our overdue agreement would not be kindly received.

At the very, very, very end of the call, Judge O'Brien called us back up. We informed him of our peace treaty. He beamed. "I was hoping you would do that."

There are judges who are well-versed in the law. There are judges who are good presiders, skilled at handling a roomful of quarrelling, querulous lawyers. It's the rare judge who are strong in both areas. Such was Judge O'Brien. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Photo courtesy of the O'Brien family

Wake and funeral arrangements announced for Mike McGowan

A lot of current and former Cook County judges will remember Mike McGowan, if only from their new judge orientations. Mike concluded his public career some years ago now, working as the technology guru in the Office of the Chief Judge. He was brought into that position by former Chief Judge Donald P. O'Connell; he remained in that position for a number of years after Chief Judge Timothy C. Evans succeeded O'Connell.

There was a time, and it was not that long ago dear Millennial and Zoomer readers, that having someone testify at a trial from a remote location was a really big deal, and making that happen when it needed to, was one of the things that Mike did in that job.

I knew Mike for well over 40 years, since he was a freshman at Loyola University. We roomed together for a time before I got married. We stood up to each other's weddings. He and his wife Sheri are godparents to my son Joe, and as much an aunt and uncle to all of my children as if they were blood kin. Some years ago he made me promise that, if he died before I did, I would not tell any stories that would embarrass him.

But he might allow me to tell this one on the grounds that FWIW readers, especially those who remember Mike, may think it amusing: Mike began his public career in the Clerk of the Circuit Court's office. In the 1980s the Clerk's computer operations were located in CL25, below the Daley Center. Mike rose quickly through the ranks in that office, starting (if I recall the title correctly) as a burster. By the time Clerk Morgan Finley was indicted, Mike was sufficiently senior that he became the person designated to furnish the U.S. attorneys with whatever information that might be required. Mike did not undertake this task with a view to helping or hurting anyone. He did it because he was assigned. He was a creature of duty, determined to do that which he was supposed to do as promptly and efficiently as possible. Mike expected to be called as a prosecution witness at trial to authenticate the records produced, and he thought he'd developed a friendly rapport with the AUSAs who would put him on the stand.

He called me as soon as he could after he got away from the Dirksen Building. "Lawyers are SCUM!" he thundered. Apparently the federal prosecutor who called him did not want any juror to think well of any public employee, lest some of that good feeling transfer to Mr. Finley, and when he grilled Mike, Mike truly felt betrayed.

Mike's anger on that occasion, though both justified and understandable, was entirely out of character. Generally, he knew everyone. He remembered everyone he met. More importantly, that one little incident excepted, he got along with everyone. He was a connector person, an important part of a thousand groups. Think Six-Degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon, but from the South Side instead. Mike was always an organizer, bringing people together. In trying to put this remembrance together I naturally wanted a proper portrait-like photo. But Mike was almost always pictured in group shots -- with family, with friends, with fellow volunteers at the National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation (NOAH), or the New Hope Food Pantry, or (more recently) the Global Albinism Alliance. It was from the Alliance that I had to grab the photo here.

Mike was one of those people the BGA never mention when they carp about public pensioners: He didn't 'double dip.' He earned his pension, and with the freedom that this gave him, devoted a productive retirement to the betterment of persons with albinism. Only illness and, now, death could deter him from these pursuits.

The wake for Mike McGowan is set for Friday, November 29, from 3:00 to 8:00 p.m., at Gibbons Family Funeral Home, 5917 W. Irving Park. The funeral Mass will be Saturday, November 30, at 10:00 a.m. at Immaculate Conception Church, 7211 W. Talcott. Internment will be at Union Ridge Cemetery, 6700 W. Higgins. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Global Albinism Alliance.

Taking time off for good(?) behavior....

No, I'm not dead.

But I haven't posted here since May 30.

I have -- had -- any number of excuses: I had to get my CLE done. I had to prepare for, and successfully complete, an all-family vacation (the image above is from that trip). As the photograph suggests, I have had some babysitting and transportation obligations. I have been fortunate enough to be called a number of times for arbitration duty.

But these are mere excuses. I did all these things, and more, when I was also trying to keep a law practice going and I still had time to post here several times a week and, sometimes, several times a day.

I haven't been sick, physically -- my wife and I did have our first documented bout with Covid at the end of May, but that was merely unpleasant, not incapacitating.

No, if I've been sick, it's a sickness in my soul. I have covered judicial elections here in every election cycle since 2008. Arguably, this is a political site -- very, very, very low on the political scale -- but this work has given me more exposure to politics and politicians and their various machinations than I otherwise could ever have had.

And, I find, I don't like politics. I like it less with each increasingly shrill, bombastic, hyper-partisan election cycle.

Getting elected to the bench (or, for that matter, getting appointed) is a political process -- and politicians are members of a notoriously closed guild. I have tried to pull the curtain back a little, as much as an outsider like me can, in order to give lawyers who are not politicians, or related to politicians, but who nevertheless harbor judicial ambitions, more of a chance to breach the political battlements.

The breakthrough kitchen-table campaigns that I would posit as the ideal were never common; they are rarer than ever these days. In my time on this beat, I have documented the increasing expense of running a credible judicial campaign, from campaign consultants (of sometimes questionable loyalty, but always real expense) to the costs (actual and ethical) of raising funds. When I ran for judge, in 1994 and 1996, we tried to send out postcards to bring friends and acquaintances to the polls; now, direct mail pieces are probably a necessity. Hopefully not the misleading and malicious ones... but some examples of this type have been found in recent judicial campaigns, too.

But these trends, dispiriting as they are, are not a sufficient explanation for my malaise.

It's been coming on me now for some time. I tried to write about it in April, trying to explain why I thought the constant barrage of negative political advertising constitutes a form of bipartisan voter suppression.

But it's more than negative advertising. It's the groupthink. The win-at-all-costs mentality. It's the false choice fallacy that if you dare notice the obvious, glaring faults of this candidate, you must necessarily be a synchophantic, mindless supporter of that candidate.

What may frost me most is the casual, bipartisan contempt for the Constitution -- treating it like an obstacle to someone's vision of "progress" instead of as the safeguard of all our rights and liberties that it most certainly is.

You know, back in the day, before it was repealed, I had a lot of Structural Work Act cases. From these I learned that there is absolutely no question that safety harnesses, properly worn, can slow down the "progress" of the work. The builder's goals might be more promptly achieved without them. But, also without them, people are much more likely to get seriously hurt, even killed. Safeguards matter.

We lawyers -- we're sort of the Constitution's OSHA. We need to rein back our partisan, political brothers and sisters, not try and fashion creative arguments to provide cover for their excesses. And that goes for both parties. All parties. Left and Right. Progressive and MAGA. It does not appear that civics and patriotism and reverence for the Constitution are taught in our nation's schools. I know that some of us lawyers need refresher courses. At the very least.

Right now, and likely for the foreseeable future, I find the political climate toxic and increasingly intolerable. (As well as intolerant.) It's painful to observe, much less write about. Even in the limited way that I have done heretofore.

My news feed, all the stuff that comes in the email, X -- I start reading and always wind up depressed. And, mind you, this is is without watching one minute of any cable news network. Of any stripe.

So, for me, it comes down to this: Do I want to continue aiding and abetting an unhealthy political process?

The answer, for now, is that I perceive it as my civic duty. A way I can contribute, even if in only a small way, to the good of society. So... after a summer away... I will get back to work. While I may be trying to bail the ocean with a bucket, I will continue to try to help keep judicial campaigns as oases of civility and even gentility, in the hopes, however slim, that these good qualities can rise up on the ballot and into other races as well. Judicial candidates can lead the way.

But we've all got to keep our safety harnesses securely fastened.

4,000 posts and counting

This post isn't itself the 4,000th post I've published on FWIW. Strictly speaking, and if you're only talking about this site, and not counting what I call Page Two of FWIW (where I've also put up over 500 posts), my 4,000th FWIW post went up last week sometime.

But a 4,000th post is a significant milestone -- a monument to stubbornness, perhaps -- even though not all the 4,000+ posts that have appeared here have been mine. I've been gratful for the opportunity to publish a number of guest posts, such as the many substantive posts from Albert J. Klumpp, who has provided scholarly analysis of the last several judicial election cycles.

Another bunch of these 4,000 posts that I did not write, but in which I nevertheless take particular pride, are the "In Their Own Words" posts that I have solicited and published in every campaign cycle since 2008. These are posts in which I've let Cook County judicial candidates write whatever they want to say to the voters, however they want to say it. I'll be asking for these again in a couple of months. Not every candidate takes me up on this offer; I wish it were otherwise. But I link to the all the candidate statements I do receive from the Organizing the Data posts that I feature in the last weeks before the primary or (when there's been the odd, contested election) the November election.

As for the rest... well... in my more candid and reflective moments I will concede that most, indeed the vast majority, are (at best) informational. The Pulitzer Prize Board has committed no grievous oversight in passing me by. On the other hand, I did win a Kogan Award from the Chicago Bar Association in 2012
and an Honorable Mention from the Kogan Committee in 2014. (The CBA seems to have disbanded the Kogan Committee recently; I'm not sure how much I am to blame for this.)

Some of the posts I've put up here and on Page Two have included personal recollections of my own ill-fated runs for the bench in 1994 and 1996. I tried to distill and offer lessons from my own electoral failures in these 2021 posts:

• Or you could just run? That is terrible advice...,


• Or you could just run? Some suggestions if you're thinking about it -- part 1,


• Or you could just run? More suggestions... for what they're worth, and


• Or you could just run? The pros and cons, especially the cons, of slating.

Some of the posts I've put up here and on Page Two are humorous; some posts were intended to be humorous. I like to think there's a substantial overlap between those two categories....

But even in strictly informational posts, I sometimes try and slip in a zinger or two. I used to do this in appellate briefs, too. My thought was that the judges (and/or their clerks) who had to read those things might appreciate a little diversion. You know... never a joke, certainly, but perhaps a play on words, or an unexpected allusion... a little levity to leaven the grim necessity of plowing through page after page of dense legal prose. It never occurred to me that it might cause some judges (and/or their clerks) not to take me seriously... but, now, looking back, considering some of the results that obtained... well, I can't help but wonder....

I've written some posts for FWIW that I consider substantive -- even if I try to approach serious topics in a readable, conversational way. By way of example, I hope that one of these days, the courts will realize that access to justice in civil cases and meaningful employment for lawyers are both negatively impacted by the soaring costs of discovery. When that day comes, I hope the courts will remember that I've been advocating for "Zero-Based Discovery" for some years now (and, if you're interested in what I mean by this, perhaps start with this post).

But I realize that what keeps readers returing to FWIW is my coverage of Cook County judicial elections. People tell me I am providing a useful service with this site. I hope I am.

For those of you who may be new here, and unfamiliar with how I've tried to cover these elections in the past, this FAQ post may be of some assistance.

If you've consulted one of my FAQ posts, now or ever, you know that I don't accept ads from candidates and I don't charge candidates to promote their websites or events. I will accept ads from persons or companies looking to sell services to candidates... but I don't suffer from the burden of too many ads. I do accept reader donations. If you're viewing this article on a laptop or desktop, you can see there's a "Donate" button toward the top of the Sidebar on this site. You are welcome to contribute to the upkeep of this site by clicking there.

The "Donate" button links to PayPal, and allows readers to pay either by PayPal (if you have an account) or by credit card. And PayPal has recently added another donation option, for those generous souls who may be reading this only on their phones and/or who already have a PayPal account (I'm told it's quite common). This link -- PayPal.Me/FWIWChicago -- supposedly will allow you to help support this venture as well.

Charlie Meyerson, in his hugely popular email news briefing, Chicago Public Square, regularly solicits support from his readers, and occasionaly he will publish a list of those who have most recently taken him up on that invitation.

But be not afraid. I realize that everyone who reads this site seems to prefer, and even cherish, anonymity. Much as I would like to publicly thank anyone who contributes -- I am truly grateful for any and all support -- I won't mention anyone who donates by name unless they ask me to do so.

I may not know how to 'read a room' well, but I'm not totally illiterate either.

More posts to come....

Graduation speech press release commences runaway train of memories

Let's make this clear at the outset: I harbor no ill-feeling toward Brian Earl.

I mean, for goodness' sake, it's been nearly a half-century now since he was chosen to deliver the student address at our high school graduation... and I wasn't. I'm hardly ever triggered about this anymore. Honest.

It's just that I get sent a lot more press releases now -- that's one consequence of 4,000,000 page views -- and one of these, recently, touted the fact that Appellate Court Justice Jesse G. Reyes was chosen to give the commencement address earlier this month at the graduation exercises conducted by the University of Illinois Chicago Law School (the law school formerly known as John Marshall).

Chosen. By student vote. Just like Brian Earl.

Brian and I were the finalists for the student speaker at our high school graduation. We had to give our proposed speeches before an assembly of our classmates; they got to choose between us.

Brian was smart: His speech was geared to the graduates. I was not smart: Mine was aimed at the parents. I figured that parents would be the ones actually listening. Think back on your own graduations, then think of the graduations you've attended as parents, when your kids graduated. There were speakers at all of them. If you listened to any of them, which ones did you listen to more? See?

But even if I was correct -- I sure didn't read the room. Not that room, not that day... and so many times since.

And don't ask me now what I hoped to talk about then. Perhaps some harangue about how we Boomers were going to change the world -- maybe a screed about how we kids ought to have been raised -- but more likely some safe, boring pap about our eternal gratitude for the enormous advantages we'd been gifted by our families. Call it cringing cowardice. Call it mealy-mouthed brown-nosing. Whatever it was actually about, I can't remember now -- all I recall, now, is my firm conviction, then, that it would have gone over big with the target audience. But I had to win the dance-off first. And I lost. Bigly.

You'll notice, to this point, if you've made it this far, that I haven't said anything about Justice Reyes' speech.

That's because I don't know what he talked about.

The press release from UIC Law School listed Justice Reyes' many awards and accomplishments -- mostly things that FWIW readers already know, or at least have heard -- but it did not even give the title of his talk. The accompanying email mentioned the bit about students choosing him as the speaker. Apparently it's a tradition. A tradition which -- I hope! -- stretches back well into the John Marshall days because JMLS has been UIC Law now for, what, three years? Five? Whatever. It was JMLS when Justice Reyes went there.

Anyway, Justice Reyes got to give the commencement address at UIC Law on May 6. He was selected for this honor by the graduating students.

Just like Brian Earl.

* Sigh *

Some last minute advice for those dreading the Holiday get together

Dr. Fauci says it's OK for families to gather at someone's home for Thanksgiving. Actually, he said it's OK if all eligible persons are fully vaxxed and boostered (there's a new verb for you) and maybe if there's a window open (well, the oven's on, isn't it, so that's not too much a stretch) and if no one inhales too deeply. Something like that.

But we're Americans -- we're vague on details -- so once Dr. Fauci said OK all hesistation was thrown to the winds and, across this great land of ours, vast hordes of relatives, some of whom have had no contact with one another for 20 months, have begun converging. Vaccinated and unvaccinated alike.

And you, Dear Reader, are panicking: We are told that Thanksgiving dinners are supposed to be like this --

-- but we all know that the actual events can go from awkward to angry in a heartbeat. Especially if dinner is delayed past halftime of the Dallas game. In vino veritas? Well, sometimes, too much vino can unleash some unfortunate pent-up sentiments.

And that was before Covid.

In My Fair Lady Professor Higgins advises Eliza Doolittle (going to her first Ascot races) to stick to two subjects, the weather and everybody's health.

But even that list is too long for 2021. Someone will inquire about another's health... and the subject of masks and vaccinations will invariably surface... and the conversation may veer from awkward to angry to explosive. Frozen turkey in the deep fryer explosive. COVID!

Maybe sports can be substituted as a safe conversation topic.

The Beloved Bears are playing Detroit in a little while. And, in Chicago, at least, there is a common affection, among the vaccinated and unvaccinated alike, for the Beloved. Unless your family has one of those Packer fans. Many do. Some from contrariness. Some because the Bears basically sucked when they were growing up.

The Packers aren't playing today -- it's true -- but someone may mention Aaron Rodgers -- who had COVID! And maybe has Covid toe.

And, all of a sudden, we're back in the deep fryer.

At this moment, you're feeling nostalgic for the days when it was only politics that marred holiday gatherings. Or for the aunt who insisted on tousling your hair and pinching your cheeks when you were over 30.

But it's OK. These awkward holiday dinners are a great opportunity for you and yours to remember that what you share with your family is more important than any of these unimportant things that divide us. And make gatherings awkward sometimes. Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Just don't talk about COVID!

A Very Merry Christmas to all, and moderate expectations for the New Year

I know what you're thinking: Merry Christmas? Now? Christmas Eve was a week ago. Once again Leyhane comes in late and lame.

Which may be true -- but it's still Christmas. Did your true love give you seven swans a-swimming today? This is the Seventh Day of Christmas. The Shepherds are back with their flocks, perhaps, but the Three Kings are still following the Star. By now, perhaps, they've stopped off at Herod's palace to ask for directions, but they haven't yet found the place where the Child was.

Come to think of it, this story may provide a good explanation for why men (allegedly) have been reluctant to stop and ask for directions, even prior to the invention of Google Maps: Look at the terrible things that happened when the Wise Men innocently asked for directions to Bethlehem. No responsible person would want to ask for directions after that, right?

The Twelve Days of Christmas will continue into next week. The Wise Men will finally get to deliver their gifts on January 6th, the Feast of Epiphany. And, yet, many of my neighbors, and I'll bet some of yours, too, have already taken down their Christmas decorations. I understand that this year, in particular, many are in a hurry to be done with Christmas. Because after Christmas comes New Year. And with the New Year 2020 will be but a nightmarish memory.

Match.com is running some clever ads that, I think, catch the national mood toward the year now ending -- in them, Satan meets his soulmate, 2020. In the picture above, the happy couple are having a picnic in an empty stadium -- emptied, we automatically realize, on account of COVID-19.

Since last Sunday, Brewster Rockit has been taking a not-so-fond look back at 2020. In a subsequent strip, one of the characters suggests that "its like 2020 was run by a super villian." A lot of people, I think, take that view.

And we certainly hope 2021 will be better.

But the 'Rona won't vanish with the last stroke of midnight tonight. Our ongoing two-week shutdown, now in its 10th month, will continue into an 11th and beyond.

Many people are thinking things will improve dramatically after January 20. "My new favorite palindrome - 12021" was making the rounds on Facebook a week or so ago. Things should be a little less crazy in Washington---I hope---on January 21. At least the early monrning Tweets from the White House will presumably cease.

But things are going to be rough for a lot of us for a long time to come. I don't know if the Loop will ever come back to anything like what it was: Business owners have seen for themselves that a lot of people can work from home. Why pay rent on offices in downtown skyscrapers? Leases will expire and not be renewed. Offices that must remain will downsize. And what will become of the buildings themselves? These were the golden geese of our property tax system. Their owners won't be making as much money; the buildings will not be generating vital tax revenue. And what about the conventions and trade shows that provided so much tax revenue. All of these associations have learned how to do virtual events now -- will they want to resume actual events, once public health authorities permit? City and County revenues are going to be woeful for the foreseeable future.

When will the courts fully reopen? How? Every sort of business owner is asking questions like this. Local authorities haven't received as much vaccine as was promised -- and have pushed out only a small fraction of what they have received. The pace will quicken. But, even so, it will be months, at best, before most of us will be vaccinated.

And when we are all vaccinated, will there be restaurants to visit? Will any movie theaters survive? Will live theater return? The White Sox should be competitive -- but will people be able to afford tickets?

The economic numbers aren't so bleak because, while so many were suffering, Amazon and Wal-Mart and Zoom and a lot of the tech sector thrived. The very rich got richer. But a lot of jobs aren't coming back. Not in 2021. Probably not ever.

So Happy New Year to all -- but don't get your hopes up that 2021 will be a great improvement over what we're living with now. Not right away. Maybe at some point. Whoopee!

Getting back to work....

Posts will resume here today.

Family matters have overwhelmed my time of late, but I expect, or at least hope, to be able to get back to work -- and blogging, too -- as quickly as possible.