Journey to the Edge of Texas Chapters 13 and 14

Verdict

K A L M A N S:   "We have one more witness, Your Honor." The witness took the stand.
"Would you state your name for the record, please?" Kalmans asked. "Ernest J. Williamson."
"Mr. Williamson, by whom are you employed?"
"The Houston Post."
"How long have you been there?"
"Since 1971."
"What was your first position with The Houston Post?"
"I started as a copy editor."
"And at that time, did you come to meet Mr. Leatherwood?"
"Yes, sir."
"What position did you assume when The Toronto Sun purchased the paper?"
"That happened in 1983, and I became managing editor."
"What job do you presently hold with The Houston Post?"
"I'm now executive editor; I was named to that position in 1988."
"What are your responsibilities as executive editor?"

"I'M   R E S P O N S I B L E for the whole shooting match. The city desk editor works for you. The photo department editor works for you. The business department works for you. The librarian works for you. In addition, I assumed a lot more budgetary responsibilities, a lot more decisions on personnel, administrative things, but the big new responsibility was managing the budget."
"Mr. Williamson, did you have over the years or develop over the years any kind of a personal relationship with Carl Leatherwood?"
"Oh, yes. We became very good friends early on."
"Did you have any out-of-the-office relationship with Mr. Leatherwood"
"Yeah. We had some really interesting experiences. We went sailing quite a bit on Carl's boat. I remember spending a great day on a Hobby Cat out in Galveston. That was the best of the sailing trips, I think. We had a rather ill-feted trip in a canoe down Buffalo Bayou. I say that because I don't remember being in the canoe. I remember carrying it a lot. The only water we saw—I think we tipped it over. And I was sick for about six months after that, and Carl used to tease me about it.
"And we played a lot of tennis together. Even invited me over for dinner, my family, once. One time my father came in from California —it was during the holidays—and I think I had two tickets to go see the high school playoff game and I couldn't go, so Carl was gracious enough to take my dad. And my dad still talks about it because there was a guy named Earl Campbell running around for Tyler High School."
"Did you have occasion to come to know Mr. Leatherwood's father over the years?"
"Yes, sir. I don't know the exact date but I think the first time I met him, he came and watched Carl and me play tennis."
"And over the course of years, have you had occasion to talk with him periodically?"
"Yes, sir."
"I want to direct your attention to the year 1980, Mr. Williamson, and ask if you had occasion to play any part in the move of Mr. Leatherwood to the business wire?"
"Yes, sir."
"And why was that?"
"We thought it would be a less stressful job for him."
"Why did you feel that way?"
"Basically, the pace on the business desk isn't as frantic as the pace on the main copy desk. There's less stories to choose from. There's not as many pages to fill. The work load isn't nearly as great. And it was a lot easier to supervise because there was only two or three people doing that."
"Now, over the course of years that you and Mr. Leatherwood worked together, you then became aware of the mental illness that he had?"
"I knew he had problems coping on the job, yes."
"And how did you learn of those?"
"I knew there were times he was hospitalized."
"Did you have occasion—to periodically receive messages on your computer about Mr. Leatherwood's performance?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what types of messages or concerns did you receive?"
"Well, the ones I remember most were the ones in the fall of 1988. The nature of them—there were all kinds of complaints and problems. He seemed to be having trouble doing even the basic skills. Often a story will come over and somebody will say, here, cut this story to ten inches and write this kind of headline, and Carl would give the story back and there were no cuts made on it. He wasn't able to focus on that, apparently.
"During that time, he was doing maybe one or two stories a night when the rest of the editors were doing eight to ten. He was spending a lot of time talking to other editors. Some people said he was being —almost amounted to harassment. The people in the computer room said he was repeatedly calling them to say that his computer wasn't working right, and they would repeatedly come up and check it and it appeared to be working fine.
"There was a period when he called the Associated Press in Dallas and said that there was a virus in their computer system and none of the stories were working properly. That turned out not to be true. It was pretty much one thing after another."
"As the years passed and Mr. Leatherwood's problems continued, did you periodically have occasions to become involved in assisting to get him to the doctor or to the hospital?"
"Yes. Between Edith and me, we would frequently call his parents."
"Over the years, did the degree of difficulty change in your being able to get him to go to the doctor?"
"Yes. It seemed particularly—by the fall of '88, it was almost—I guess we first noticed that aspect of it in '85. But in the fall of '88, it was almost impossible. People first started reporting symptoms or telling us about it in the beginning of October, and by the middle of October, Edith was almost working full-time trying to get Carl to go to the doctor. And there were repeated complaints. I had talked to him and tried to get him to go to the doctor. We called his parents."
"Early in November, we gave him some time off to go see a doctor. He wanted to go see a doctor in California because he thought the doctor could help him. His dad was going to go with him. So we thought he went, then a couple of days later he was still in town and said he didn't have the money to go.
"He was trying to see a Dr. Hauser. Edith and I spent a week trying to get ahold of Dr. Hauser. He was working in Huntsville and here both, so he was almost impossible to get ahold of.
"So, yeah, we spent a lot of time trying to get Carl help. The nature of the change, too, he didn't seem—he was much more belligerent, much more antagonistic. He didn't seem to understand what we were saying. He had no idea that he was having problems."
"In late November, Mr. Williamson, did you have occasion to receive a telephone call from Mr. Leatherwood's father wherein the subject matter of a guardianship was discussed?"
"Yes, sir. Carl wouldn't go to the doctor. There was a period when we lost track of where he was. We expected him back on Monday, but we got a call on Monday saying he's in Arizona with his dog and we didn't know whether that was true or not. His father later said he didn't think that was true. At that point during one conversation, the father said he was seeking guardianship and if I ran across Carl or if he showed up, would I please call him."
"In early December, did you have occasion to meet with Mr. Leatherwood in your office?"
"Yes. Late in the afternoon, I think it was either the 2nd or 3rd, I was in my office with Pat Roberson, my administrative assistant, and Carl accosted us in the office and he had a very agitated look about him. He was obviously unshaven, his hair was a mess, he was disheveled. He was clearly out of control. He said he was resigning from The Post, that The Post was racist, that it was sexist, that I myself was racist and sexist, and he was resigning and handed me his I.D. card. I got him out of the newsroom so he wouldn't make a scene, and called his father, and the next thing I knew—it was a couple of days later— Carl was in the hospital."
"I want to direct your attention now to on or about December 24, 1988. Did you have occasion to receive a telephone call from Mr. Leatherwood?"
"Yes. It was on or about that date, a call from Carl saying that he was in the hospital, that he wanted to come back to work. I told him that there wasn't much point in coming back to work over the holidays and that I would see him on January 2nd, which was a Monday."
"Did he come in then on January 2nd?"
"Yes."
"Do you recall your conversation with him at that time?"
"Yes. Yeah, I remember this one very well because it was something I thought about for a couple of weeks and it was pretty agonizing. I told him that I was going to accept the resignation, but that I knew he had financial problems and I knew he was going to have trouble getting back on his feet, so I told him I would make the resignation effective around March 1st. It was just to give him time to earn some paychecks."
"Following that conversation, did you have occasion to call Dr. Blackburn?"
"Yes. Right after the conversation with Carl, I called Dr. Blackburn because I wanted to inform him what had happened so he could arrange whatever support might be necessary for Carl and to keep him apprised of what was going on. I remember quite clearly that after I told Dr. Blackburn what I had done, he said that was a very humane, compassionate thing for myself to do and for The Post. And I guess the reason I remember it so well is because Carl was such a good friend and we'd worked together so long that, while I knew I was doing the right thing for The Post and it had to be done, it was quite agonizing for me. I felt reassured and reaffirmed by what the doctor had said."
"Did you tell Dr. Blackburn that people above you wanted Carl fired?"
"Absolutely not. The only pressure I felt was the pressure on me from the people below me."
"How did the employees in the newsroom as a whole feel about Mr. Leatherwood?"
Petrou: "Objection, Your Honor, hearsay."
The court: "Insofar as you could determine that from their attitude and their spoken words."
"It was pretty obvious from talking to them, everybody liked Carl. Everybody felt sorry for Carl. And in the early days in the '70s and '80s, there was almost a protective cocoon around Carl. By '88, everybody was worried and frustrated and exasperated and tired, and there was no doubt something had to happen."
"Mr. Leatherwood didn't leave The Post on March 1?"
"No. We decided we'd keep Carl in employment, but we decided that we would change his job."
"And why did you make a decision to change his job?"
"We looked for one that was the least possible stressful job we could find. And we felt because the people that he had worked with on the business desk were so—had been so burdened with doing his work and had been exasperated dealing with it, that we couldn't put him back there because that would be really stressful. So we gave him a copy editing job. But then in May, to quote other employees, things had got out of hand, that Carl was unable to do any work, so I sent him home on the night of the 31st of May."
"I want to direct your attention to June 1, 1989, and ask if on that date you experienced any problems with Mr. Leatherwood?"
"Yeah. Carl came in—he was obviously in an agitated state. Dick McCann, the news editor, said he wasn't doing the job. I brought Carl into my office and showed him some of the things he had done, and he was very belligerent, wouldn't accept that he had made any errors. I was really unable to talk to him. He was very antagonistic, so I sent him home again."
"You have in front of you Defendant's Exhibit No. 20?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what is that?"
"It's a note from Eileen O'Grady, assistant business editor."
"And did you receive that from her?"
"Yeah. She had told me about this incident right about this time. I told her would she please get me a note on it, and this is the note."
"Would you read the exhibit out loud?"
"During the week of May 30,1989,1 had a conversation with Carl Leatherwood in the newsroom. We talked about exercise routines for a few moments and I noticed he was very animated. As he started to leave, he told me he was 'walking five miles a day to keep in shape for Jane.'"
"Do you know who Jane is?"
"Yes. Jane Baud, business writer."
"Did you have any contact from her during this period of time about Mr. Leatherwood?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was that?"
Petrou: "Objection, hearsay, Your Honor."
The court: "Overrule the objection. Do you want to come up?"
"I had mentioned to you once before that the reports that were generated by the coworkers that came to management is relevant to their reasons for discharging him. It does not fall under the hearsay rule nor the public records rule and that's why I'm ruling—I don't care whether you agree with me or not. I want you to understand it."
Kalmans continued the questions: "Would you tell us about the conversation that you had with Ms. Baird?"
"Jane felt she was being harassed by Carl so much so that she was taking the phone off the hook at home. There was also a period when Carl was bringing gifts in for her children, and there was one episode that upset Jane in which Carl was standing outside her home and looking in her window."
"I want to direct your attention to on or about June 16,1989, and ask if you had occasion to have a conversation with a Kate Thomas about Mr. Leatherwood?"
"Yeah. Kate came into the office that day, was worried and exasperated and frustrated and mad at me because Carl was walking aimlessly and disheveled on Westpark, the overpass right by The Post, and she was worried Carl was going to come into the building. And she was also concerned nobody was taking care of him and he wasn't getting help, so she was totally frustrated as were we all."
"Did you report that conversation to Mr. Jim Janiga [the human resources head]?"
"Yes."
"Did you have occasion to subsequently learn that Mr. Leatherwood had been hospitalized on June 19th?"
"Yes."
"Did you and Janiga meet after Carl got out of the hospital.
""Yes. And finally Jim asked me what I wanted to do. I felt I had no choice but to terminate Carl."
"Why, Mr. Williamson, did you reach that decision?"
"One, he was unable to perform his job duties on a consistent and regular basis. The previous nine months, he wasn't at 100 percent of his capabilities—four-and-a-half months out of that period. He was making a lot of errors in copy, and he was becoming a tremendous burden on everybody he worked with.
"In my opinion as executive news editor, Carl's presence at The Post put the paper at risk. From Day 1 in my journalism career in covering high school sports in California to the University of Missouri to my years at The Post, I've learned that newspapers are kind of a special business. They're in many ways a public trust. People look at us to see how they're going to live their lives and make decisions on how they're going to live their lives. They turn to the business section to see how their stocks are doing. They turn to the sports section to see what time the Rockets are playing so they can watch it on TV, or go to the game. They look in the news section to see how their congressman voted on NAFTA.
"As executive editor, I felt it was my duty to ensure and is at all times to ensure that we're giving the best information we can and that it's accurate and reliable. In Carl's situation, I had someone—I had a friend and somebody I had worked with for twenty years who had impaired judgment by his own admission. Not only did he have impaired judgment, but he didn't know that he had impaired judgment when he had it and it was getting so that we couldn't tell him he had it. I felt it was my responsibility to the people that read The Post, to the people that work at The Post, and to the people that own The Post, to let Carl go; and it was a very painful decision for me and still is."
"Mr. Williamson, do you feel that you could have done any more than you did to attempt to accommodate Mr. Leatherwood?"
"No, sir."
Petrou came forward:
"Mr. Williamson, you said you did all you could to accommodate Mr. Leatherwood; is that correct?"
"Yes, sir."
"There's one thing you didn't do, isn't there? You didn't ask him if he could be a writer, did you?"
"I didn't feel he had that capability."
"I'd like you to take a look at Plaintiffs Exhibit No. 7-B and read it, please."
"'The system failed'? Is that what I'm supposed to read?"
"Just get a feel for it, if you would."
"Okay."
"What do you think of it?"
"Fine."
"Is it good writing?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Were you aware that Carl Leatherwood wrote that?""
"Doesn't surprise me."
"It doesn't surprise you?"
"No."
"It is good writing?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I shall give you a more recent example, 'Grand Times on the River.' And who wrote that story?"
"Carl Leatherwood."
"And what do you think of the writing?"
"It's good."
"Now, I want to show you something even more recent. What's the name of the publication?"
"The Leader."
"What's the name of the story?"
"North Houston's Day Lily Lady."
"Isn't it written September '93,1 believe?"
"Yes."
"Who wrote that story?"
"Carl Leatherwood."
"Who took the picture on the front page there?"
"Carl Leatherwood."
"What do you think of that story?"
"It's fine for what it is."
"Did you detect any errors or bad writing in it?"
"No. It's fine for what it is, actually."
"You know Carl Leatherwood wrote that story just a couple of months ago?"
"Right."
"Mr. Williamson, is feature writing more or less stressful than editing?"
"On a daily newspaper, it can be as stressful."
"But, generally speaking, have you done feature writing yourself?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Are there the same daily deadlines for a feature writer as —do you have to turn out a feature story every day?"
"Not every day, no."
"Okay."
"But certainly more than freelancing once every couple of years."
"But you knew at the time that Carl Leatherwood was not like everybody else, right?"
"Yes."
"And he had some real serious problems, didn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"And he would have episodes and not make sense some of the time?"
"Correct."
"And you have, I believe, 1,100 full-time employees at The Houston Post?"
"I have 180 myself in editorial. That's more than enough."
"Did the thought ever cross your mind, perhaps we should give Carl a chance to write a little bit?"
"No, sir. I think we're off-base here a little bit. Those articles you showed me were freelance pieces done on Carl's time when he was capable of doing it, with no deadline pressure, when it was convenient for Carl to do that. I put out a daily newspaper."
"As a way of accommodating people who perhaps have a certain disability, have you thought of allowing a person like Carl Leather-wood perhaps to work on a computer out of his own home?"
"No."
"And why is that?"
"Because it gets back, sir, to the fundamental principle of why we're in the business. I have a responsibility to make sure that the editors and the reporters that work for me are capable of making judgments. And a writer who goes out on a story and is doing interviews and collecting information and is writing a story has to be aware of what's going on and be able to make the judgments just like an editor does, as a matter of fact more so, because he knows what the situation is. The difference between judgment required of an editor and reporter— they've both got to exercise judgment."
"Right. I mean, is there any evidence that Carl doesn't know how to interview people?"
"There would be no evidence if he was outside the office that I'd know he was having a good day or a bad day."
"What about with your other reporters? If they're outside the office, would you know if they're having a good day or bad day?"
"Well, yeah. Yes."
"The other reporters, though, don't they send you their stories from wherever they are, Washington D.C., or Austin, Texas? Don't they send it via computer or modem and it appears in The Houston Post?"
"Yes."
"Do you get a chance to review their work?"
"Yes."
"So the distance itself is not a problem, is it?"
"No."
"Even though Carl has had episodes since 1976, would you be surprised to learn that according to a memo of one of his supervisors that Carl did not miss a single day's work for eight years, and four of those years were after 1976."
"No."
"What was Mr. Leatherwood's copy like until 1976?"
"It was okay."
"Did you ever observe it yourself when it was not okay?"
"Yes."
"When was that?"
"I saw a lot of it in 1988. Some in 1985."
"I know it was a tough decision for you to fire Mr. Leatherwood. You told us about that. Do you think, however, the firing violates any policy stated in your handbook?"
"No, sir."
"I'd like you to look at page 7 of Defendant's Exhibit No. 1. Please read it for the Court,"
"It is our policy to provide equal employment opportunities for all employees and prospective employees without regard to race, religion, color, age, sex, disability, or national origin."
"Dr. Blackburn said that he felt that you wanted to keep him on the job but the higher-ups above you did not share that feeling; is that correct? In other words, you really wanted Carl to stay with The Houston Post but somebody higher up kept you—"
"That's absolutely wrong. The only pressure I felt was I knew it was going to be tough. I knew Carl was going to have trouble. The torment I had was I knew he had to go and people below me, Carl's colleagues, were exasperated with the situation and frustrated with the situation and we had to do something. There was nobody above me who told me what to do."

ON   THE   SIXTH   DAY   OF   THE   TRIAL, the jury retired. The next day, November 23, 1993, the Galveston paper reported the verdict in a story by Carol Christian:

HOUSTON POST LOSES DISCRIMINATION CASE
The Houston Post on Monday was found guilty of discriminating against one of its former employees, Carlton Leatherwood Jr., who had previously worked at The Galveston Daily News.
An eight-person jury debated about three hours before finding in favor of Leatherwood, who was Daily News city editor in 1966 and 1967. Leatherwood, who has manic-depressive illness, filed the suit against The Post for firing him in 1989 in violation of the Texas Disabilities Act.
"It's satisfying that we could take a mental-illness discrimination case and have a victory of any kind," Leatherwood, 52, said Monday after the verdict.
"There are few mentally ill people who can afford to go to court to begin with, so they often end up in the street or in very low-paying jobs."
U.S. District Judge Hugh Gibson, who heard the case after it was transferred from Houston, will determine the amount of money The Post will be required to pay Leatherwood.
Bruce Coane, one of Leatherwood's attorneys, said Monday that both sides had agreed upon $170,000 for back pay.
Additional claims have been made for attorney fees and future pay, as well as reinstatement, Coane said.
The judge will not make the monetary award for at least 15 days, Coane said. First, The Post has 10 days in which to file a motion for the jury's verdict to be thrown out, and then Leatherwood has five days to respond to the motion.
Leatherwood, who had worked at The Post for 22 years as a copy editor and business wire editor, said he thought The Post would appeal. Neither the newspaper's representatives nor its attorneys could be reached Monday for comment.
In closing arguments Monday at the U.S. Courthouse, Leatherwood's attorney Steve Petrou said The Post had not done everything it could to accommodate Leatherwood's illness.
He said the accommodation best suited for Leatherwood's illness would have been writing feature stories and editorials, tasks he had done in the past "Not a single person who has taken the stand, including (Executive Editor) Ernie Williamson, has found anything wrong with his writing," said Petrou.

The judge would soon overturn the verdict, and the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals would uphold the judge's decision. By that time, The Post had folded, and Coane advised that even if I prevailed in the Supreme Court, I would not necessarily collect an award. The case had ended, and so had my newspaper career. As Petrou summed it up, a federal judge had said I was too sick to work. At the time, I was both disappointed and in disagreement with the ruling, but I came to realize that the defense doctor, with more hindsight, had best recognized how severe my condition was, how downward its trajectory.



Chapter 14

Chasm

WITH THE LOSS AT TRIAL, the last vestige of daily bread, of social sustenance as I had availed myself for a quarter century disappeared. I had tumbled into a chasm. To survive I was dependent on Social Security Disability and the kindness of aging parents.
It was not a bad life, but neither was it challenging, or imaginative, or inspirational. It was more a relief, that I wasn't out hungry and walking the streets. That's why to utter complaint evokes the feeling of whining. Let it go whimsically, the height of amusement was watching lizards sun on the patio.
To the so-called friend who joked about my job situation, I say it was no joke. Going without work nigh on twelve years, and maybe more after this writing, was a blight on my condition. If the scene under such stringent economic circumstance had ever approached serious romance, it is not too extreme to imagine the partner pulling up short because of a guy too sick to work. Too, your occupation defines you. What is one of the first questions at a party?
My doing without a car for seven years further aggravated the social and work situation. But I resorted to the bus both out of financial necessity and out of fear that I was a danger to myself and others if I drove when manic. First, my uncle had driven into the eighteen-wheeler, and, second, I had spun off a highway once.
Whereas dating had been routine, I managed only a few dates in this state, one to dinner and the movies, where my health problem came up. My guest had experienced the onerous malady in her family and understandably did not answer the call for another movie.
That, however, starts to sound like complaining. It should be clearly stated that my daily life was just an abridgment and also included three vacations, down, of course, from the annual, or greater, foray. I remember a letter writer complaining to a newspaper columnist about only one trip to Oklahoma in so many years, and the newsman rebuked her, saying some don't get any. So, I want it known I'm not an ingrate.
Gary Fortenberry, a friend from the '60s, twice invited me, paid my train fare, to his Pacific Northwest home, so that I could share it and the outdoors with his wife Gail and their daughter Erin. I'm deeply grateful.
The other trip? I paid from a settlement in a pedestrian-car accident for a Sierra Club camping trip in Yellowstone National Park. I suppose I must not pass on without noting the irony of trying to avoid an accident in a car and to then get hit on a sidewalk.