After years of keeping a low profile, I was offered a podium four times over the past eighteen months. One of those occasions was the roast I organized last November to benefit Big Brothers Big Sisters of Central Virginia, the complete text of which I posted on this web site on August 16.
On May 12, 2022, I was presented the Liberty Bell Award for community service by the Lynchburg Bar Association. I welcomed the occasion as an opportunity to express my thoughts on how the pandemic -- specifically, the governmental response to the pandemic -- exposed the inherent conflict between the legal system and individual liberty. While I didn't intend for my remarks to be interpreted as a political statement, I did anticipate that they might be somewhat controversial. When I asked a well-respected retired attorney to proof them in advance, he was both complimentary and enthusiastic.
Nevertheless, my apprehension was not unfounded, as three-quarters way through the speech a member of the audience surprised me and everyone else by bolting from his seat, striding purposely to the front of the room, and brazenly informing me that I had said enough and it was time for me to sit down. Afterwards, of course, he profusely apologized. While his rudeness was inexcusable, he is entitled to his opinion on the subject, whatever it may be, since he never disclosed it to me during a subsequent luncheon.
I leave it to my readers to judge whether my arguments -- as transcribed below -- were cogent, reasonable, and defensible.
While some may question his credibility, there is one person of note who agrees with me: Supreme Court Justice Neil Gorsuch. On May 18th of this year, in an eight-page statement that accompanied a routine order, he called emergency measures taken during the Covid-19 crisis "breathtaking in scale" and "perhaps the greatest intrusion on civil liberties in the peacetime history of the country."
The second speech I delivered twice later that summer to small gatherings of potential donors to a YMCA Capital Campaign which I was chairing and to which various Schewel family members had collectively made a lead gift. I felt it was worth publication after a listener asked for a copy to show his wife who wasn't able to attend.
On September 14, the United Way of Central Virginia kicked off its annual campaign with an hour-long sound-and-light show on the stage of the Historic Academy Theater. The performance included videos, cheers led by a local high school squad, and testimonials from an agency representative, a corporate sponsor, a volunteer, and a donor, the last being me. I unearthed from my archives a twenty-year-old speech I had written for a similar event, only to realize three days beforehand that its ten-minute length was twice my allotted time. Although reduced to seven (the best I could do), the reception accorded the revised version indicated it may have been an improvement over the original.
LAW VS. LIBERTY
Thank you for that eloquent and extensive introduction. What an impressive list of credentials.
Some folks receiving a prestigious award like this one might find it necessary to pad their resumes. I assure you that that was not the case with me. Actually, having been told by Chad Mooney that we are on a tight schedule tonight, I omitted a full page -- which I just happen to have in my coat pocket in case anyone is interested. Just see me before you leave.
Seriously, I'm exceedingly humbled to be included among the former distinguished recipients of the Liberty Bell Award. And I'm not humbled often.
But it did happen to me a few months ago when I was signing in at the Express Y. A new employee, a young lady in her twenties, was working behind the counter. When she saw my name, her eyes lit up, and a broad smile broke out on her face. Of course, I assumed she was excited to be meeting a minor celebrity and an important community leader and that she was about to congratulate me for receiving the Liberty Bell Award.
But instead of accolades, this is what I heard. "Did you see the youth camp production of My Son Pinocchio at the Academy? A cute little girl named Ana Schewel played Sue the sassy fairy, and stole the show."
Now that's humbling.
Truthfully, looking over the roster of past Liberty Bell honorees, I doubted whether my qualifications could rise to the high standards that had been set by those luminaries. Then when saw "not presented" on the list for 2002, I knew had a chance. I guess the selection committee decide that anybody would be better than nobody.
Although looking at our two most recent presidents, I'm not so sure.
Speaking of "not presented," I've been the presumptive recipient of this award for the past two years as this banquet was canceled twice for Covid. I was actually hoping the Bar might just give me the award in absentia so I wouldn't have to write a speech, and right now I suspect many of you are thinking the same thing.
Back in 2020, after Yonnie Schewel called to inform me that the Lynchburg Bar Association had voted to give me the award, I began composing a few remarks. While the circumstances have changed, the story about that call is too good to waste.
So, Yonnie asked me whom I would like to have introduce me.
"How about Ken White," I said, to which she replied, "Who is Ken White?"
I thought that was pretty funny until a few days later I posed the same question to my neighbor, Patrick Bolling, who responded, "Who was Ken White?"
"Patrick," I said, "when he was still practicing, he was the number one lawyer in Lynchburg. Back in 1986 when Schewels was trying to buy a lot on Timberlake Road and the property had to be rezoned, My father said, 'Let's call Ken White.'"
Not long after that the News and Advance compiled a list of Lynchburg's one hundred most influential persons. Not surprisingly, Ken was ranked fiftieth. What was surprising to Ken and everybody else was that 46, 47, and 48 were three fellows named Schewel and that number forty-nine was none other than Ken's lovely wife Jane Baber White.
Ken's enjoying his retirement now. And I understand that, being affable, popular, and well-respected in the community, he decided to run for POTUS. That's not President of the United States -- he's too young for that -- but rather President of the United Seniors of Westminster-Canterbury.
It's an organization that advocates for senior citizen rights, for things like deeper discounts for movie tickets, more handicapped parking spaces at Kroger, and a thirty-minute time limitation on history lectures. But Ken's main motivation for running was that, if victorious, he could park his car adjacent to the main building. He won a hotly-contested election against 234 other candidates.
During the rigorous campaign, he attempted to have face-to-face encounters with as many residents as possible. Wandering into one elderly woman's apartment, he began presenting his platform for improving campus life only to be greeted with a penetrating, quizzical stare. Ken was nonplussed. "Do you know who I am?" he asked. "I do not," said the woman, "but if go back to the receptionist at the front desk, I am sure she can tell you."
I ran these remarks by Ken. He chuckled, and said, "Just wait. I will get you back." Sadly, Ken's health precludes him from being here tonight to make that introduction. I wish he were because he's astute, witty, and a true gentleman.
Now, the question is, what passes through a layman's mind when he finds himself surrounded by a hundred attorneys? Having been through two divorces, slapped with a class action suit for credit law non-compliance, and sued for causing a traffic accident when a customer's mattress slipped off the roof of his car on his way home, and having argued for forty years with my dear friend Frank Davidson on every major or minor business decision, I have to admit that it's contentiousness.
In fact, I haven't been a room that reeked of such contentiousness since I met with my brother Jack in his office last month to discuss an upcoming sale.
Some of you might might not believe Schewels was planning to have a sale, but we were.
I wanted to sell everything at half off. Jack wanted to sell everything at one hundred percent off. "That's crazy," I said to him. "We can't make any money doing that."
"Don't worry," he said. "We need the business. We'll make it up in volume. Plus, we won't have to worry about customers not paying their bills, nor about any of them going to the Legal Aid Society for help since there won't be any delinquencies to sue them for."
Arguing with Frank was just as frustrating. In trying to convince me he was right, he taught me Aristotle's three principles of persuasion: Ethos (establishing his credibility as an accomplished attorney); Pathos (appealing to my emotions); and Logos (using reason, facts, and figures).
"Frank," I would say, "I never knew you were that erudite, but we're talking about the credit furniture business, and you need to understand our three principles: Bogo (Buy One, Get One Free); No-No (No Finance Charges for Twelve Months, No Payments for Thirty Days); and Repo."
Actually, I'm very familiar with legalese, having kept company with a female attorney for about ten years. The problem is that politically during that period I've moved several steps to the right while she has remained a staunch proponent of the opposite side.
The subsequent heated discussions inevitably found me twisting in the wind, a victim of tactics I'm sure you are all familiar with: her adroitly changing the subject and posing a question to which any answer was a self-indictment.
"Have you no compassion for the poor and homeless?" she asked when I protested another trillion-dollar spending bill. "Don't you think we need to redress the injustices of three hundred years?" she asked when I attempted to differentiate between equity and equality. "Don't you believe in science?" she asked when I expressed skepticism as to the practicality of vaccination mandates.
"I'd like to think I do," I would meekly reply. But after today, if any of those issues should come up again, I'll have a better response. "Compassion, equity, science -- I guess I can't disagree with any of those. But what I really believe in is liberty. After all, I just received the Liberty Bell Award from the Lynchburg Bar Association."
On March 23rd, 2020 Governor Ralph Northam closed all K-12 schools for the remainder of that academic year, banned all gatherings of more than ten people, and ordered the closure of certain non-essential businesses.
A few days before that I had contacted an attorney to ask him what was my exposure should I refuse to comply with such an order. Our company's ownership and management had decided that they wanted to keep their fifty stores open at any cost. I was advised by that attorney that in similar situations in the past the courts had ruled in favor of authorities acting in the interest of public health. A little internet research confirmed his opinion.
Luckily, Schewel escaped the heavy hand of the law. As a seller of computers, tablets, and lawn and garden equipment and a financial institution extending credit, the company was able to define itself as an essential business.
We never closed, and it's a good thing we didn't. From April 15th through June 30th, sales increased forty percent over the previous year, a surge that, looking back, was entirely predictable. Many retail establishments were closed. People were locked into their homes with no interest in or options for traveling, dining out, or purchasing clothes, cosmetics, or footwear. And the government was sending them hundreds of dollars in stimulus and unemployment checks.
Perversely, the pandemic -- and the ensuing governmental policies -- benefited many businesses and individuals, while others suffered immeasurably.
Imagine the consequences had the company "lost its liberty," its ability to remain open for business. Ineligible for the Paycheck Protection Program due to its number of employees (575), without revenues it would have been compelled to lay off those employees, seek forbearance on rent payments, and possibly forgo collections on previously financed sales. Sadly, this was a fate that befell numerous other businesses.
The issue here is nothing new. The pandemic merely exposed all its raw edges because almost the entire population was impacted simultaneously. It's a controversy that has bedeviled scholars and jurors for two hundred years, ever since the founders guaranteed "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" when they signed the Declaration of Independence and then promptly compromised all three with the promulgation of a federal constitution. Fortunately, they attached a Bill of Rights, and included a process for adding ammendments.
Another school of thought views the two great documents as complementing -- even dependent on -- each other rather than as antitheses. In the words of John Locke, "Where there is no law, there is no freedom." The law establishes a civilized society, enabling individuals to act freely. It invests the state with the authority to protect those persons' fundamental rights and to intervene when those rights are violated by another.
Over time the law changes, sometimes by statute, sometimes by judicial decision, and for a variety of reasons, like the discovery of new knowledge or information, a shift in the public's mores or values, pressure from the media, power brokers, or influence groups, or simply political activity. An example of basically all of the above has been the reform of our drug laws, resulting in lighter sentences, emphasis on rehabilitation rather than incarceration, and legalization of certain drugs. Who would have thought such measures possible fifteen years ago?
A blatant display of law bowing to politics was Chief Justice John Roberts's maneuver in 2012 to rescue Obamacare: an artistic transformation of the individual mandate into a tax in order to justify its constitutionality. I'm sorry, but I consider it an infringement of liberty when I'm assessed a fee or fine for failing to purchase a product or service I don't want or don't feel I need.
When Congress repealed the mandate in 2017, hardly anyone noticed.
My impression is that during the pandemic legislators, chief executives, and regulators were making law almost on impulse, basing their decisions on anecdote, imperfect or incomplete research, hysteria, and the herd instinct, with only cursory consideration of the consequences of their actions. They ordered lockdowns that were essentially experimental, and alleged benefits somewhat hypothetical while failing to weigh tangible medical, social, and economic costs as well as intangible ones like emotional hardship and loss of liberty.
And if at times their actions seemed to be buttressed by public consensus, it was a consensus not only unstable but not necessarily correct.
And if the authorities claimed the right to restrict a person's liberty on the grounds of public health, of preventing that person from harming others through the transmission of disease, isn't it possible that many were harmed by those very restrictions? Like business owners who lost their livelihood. Or children who lost a year of schooling. Or parents who lost their jobs in order to care for those children.
Don't get me wrong. Though sometimes begrudgingly, I complied with all public health orders. I masked and social distanced and required the same of my employees. Like most of you in this room, vaccinated and boosted, I still contracted a mild case of Covid. I lost two employees, a college roommate, and a childhood friend to the disease. I understand, appreciate, and admire the tremendous sacrifices that were made by front line health workers the past two years to save lives.
Ultimately though, I believe some leaders became so enamored of their new-found power and so emboldened by it that they stretched the boundaries of the law and tightened the reins on liberty.
Investing themselves in an aura of certitude, infallibility, and self-righteousness, the brooked no opposition.
As the pandemic unfolded and legislation by fiat became the order of the day, did lawyers and jurists -- particularly the latter -- fulfill their responsibility to safeguard liberty as well as uphold the law?
I think you know how I might answer that question.
Some of you will disagree. After all, this is a contentious group. And I'm not a lawyer. I'm sure there are professionals in the audience who will find me guilty of flawed reasoning and ignorance of the law.
Nevertheless, I submit it's useful, if not imperative, to try to learn from our past decisions, whether or not we regard them as mistakes. And in the future, when it's apparent that adjudication between law and liberty will be hugely impactful, to act with self-awareness, disinterest, caution, courage, foresight, some moral foundation, and humility.
Thus, it is with sincere humility and extreme gratitude that I accept this Liberty Bell Award from the Lynchburg Bar Association.
FOR A NEW DOWNTOWN YMCA
I'm sure you all know Chal Nunn. Some of you may have listened to one or more of his podcasts. He's fond of telling me about his interview with John Capps, President of Central Virginia Community College. Apparently, John was familiar with Lynchburg, and when he was offered the CVCC position, he jumped at the opportunity to relocate from another college.
"Lynchburg has heart," John told Chal.
Whether he elaborated on that statement, I can't say, not having heard the podcast. But it's such a powerful thought that I've been trying to formulate my own interpretation, one that might be relevant to our gathering this evening.
My initial reaction was that, since a city is not a living organism, it can't have a heart, and thus John must be referring to its citizens, all of whom have hearts, some bigger than others.
But isn't that true of every city? Surely you can go anywhere, and find numerous kind, caring, and generous people willing to help their neighbors.
So, I think John was implying that there's something unique and special about Lynchburg and that while lots of folks harbor the same feelings about their own home town, the fact that he, having lived elsewhere, was offering a comparative perspective makes his claim that much more credible.
I think John was saying that, beyond individual caring and sharing, Lynchburg's heart is collective, communal in nature, and perhaps rooted in its intimate lifestyle. Lynchburg is smaller than a lot of other cities and somewhat isolated by what were once considered drawbacks but now may been seen in a different light: the lack of an interstate highway and a large regional airport.
Those factors have an amazing counterintuitive effect.
Any sizable and meaningful project requires widespread involvement and a commitment by supporters to stretch themselves beyond their perceived capacity.
In addition, a connected community fosters entrepreneurship and leadership -- often from unexpected sources. A few people coming together can create something grand, as new leaders rise to the occasion. We've all been participants and witnesses to this phenomenon. Just look what's happened in the last twenty years -- Amazement Square, the Academy Center of the Arts, Kids Haven, Beacon of Hope, Parkview Community Mission, to name a few.
The dreamers, the founders, the leaders of these organizations identified a need in our city, and with the help of a community with similar interests they fulfilled that need. That's what heart is all about.
We want to add a new YMCA to that list.
The Y has a long history of community support.
Forty years ago, before I ever got involved, the YMCA -- the only one we had at that time, on Church Street -- was about to go under. Led by Robin Wood, a few concerned men and women got together, convinced Stuart Turille at United Virginia Bank to loan them one million dollars, and then raised enough to put the organization on sound footing. It has experienced tremendous growth ever since -- providing an aggregate of essential and beneficial programs to citizens from all backgrounds.
Twenty years ago another group decided that a second suburban Y was needed. With a lead gift of property and cash from Bill and Ellen Jamerson, a magnificent seven-million-dollar facility sprung from the ground at Wyndhurst, and rapidly achieved notoriety as one of the busiest Y's in the country.
When I was approached about playing a major role in the current campaign to renovate and rehabilitate the Downtown Y, I was excited and enthused. Aside from the breadth and depth of its programs and the physical, educational, and social development opportunities it makes available to our under-served population through scholarships and grants, to me the Y has always been the place, perhaps the only place, in our society where any and all distinctions of age, gender, race, religion, appearance, and socioeconomic status are submerged in a true melting pot where they basically disappear.
As for taking a leadership role, I've often rebutted such requests by insisting that I already have my name on enough buildings. But in this case, I get to share the honor with my late sister's family, whom I want to thank along with my mother and brother for making a lead gift possible.
We're gratified that so many generous folks have joined us and enabled the campaign to reach almost $7 million in pledges and payments. But it's going to take every bit of Lynchburg's heart to realize fully the vision we've shown you today, to deliver to its citizens the type of building they need and deserve. Achieving our goal is going to hinge on friends like you rising to their maximum level of commitment and helping us identify and approach others who may be persuaded to follow your lead.
A new YMCA will be a tremendous asset to Downtown Lynchburg and by extension the entire city. While the Academy and Amazement Square attract visitors from a wide area to its programs and performances, the YMCA will promote residential and commercial development. The presence of a state-of-the-art recreational facility will make Downtown a more desirable place to live and work -- even more desirable than it is now.
Thank you for bring here. We'll be reaching out to you later to explain how you too can take ownership of this vital effort to improve the place we love so much.
THE UNITED WAY: A NEW DEFINITION
I'm honored to be a part of this great kickoff to the United Way's 2023 campaign.
When I was asked to speak, I didn't know what to expect nor what was expected of me. I prepared a ten-minute talk only to find out four days ago that I was limited to five minutes and that after four Joan Phelps is going to warn me by giving me the finger. And if I don't finish in one more minute, she's going to hold up a big STOP sign. Which is about as useless as the three STOP signs I race through on Church Street every weekday morning on the way to my office.
Most people who've heard me speak know that it takes me five minutes just to get started.
I know my youthful appearance makes it hard to believe, but I've been a United Way supporter and volunteer for over forty years. I've given countless talks to leadership groups, prospective donors, and my own employees -- so many times to the latter that I'm sure they can regurgitate verbatim my three reasons for giving. I served on the United Way Board for two terms: Reagan's and George W.'s I'm a frequently recycled Cabinet member, this time only because Nat Marshall asked me, and who can say no to him? I chaired the campaign twice: in 1999 and 2016.
I've done all of this because obviously I believe in the United Way. I believe in it as an organization, but I also believe in it as a concept, a concept which has evolved in my mind over the years, a concept which I would like to share with you in the form of a metaphor.
How many of you have ever driven for Meals on Wheels? Well, I have -- numerous times. But it was the first of those journeys that really made an impression on me. It took me to a place I had never been before, the lower end of Main Street, along streets named Hillview, Lorraine, and Franklin, through a neighborhood of modest wood or aluminum-sided cottages, which was a stark contrast to my affluent one.
I believe most of us would accept the definition of the word "way" -- as in United Way -- as "a customary manner of living, acting, or doing."
But in this case another definition -- "a passage leading from one place to another" -- seems more appropriate. Certainly I was passing from one way of life -- my very comfortable one -- to one I was not familiar with. Most of the residents, I assumed, were living at or below the poverty level. They might be classified as the "working poor," the kind of people who need the services provided by our United Way agencies -- like a hot, nutritious meal once a day.
Some of you who work in these agencies know whom I am talking about and how just getting by every day is such a struggle for them. Others, like me, are rarely exposed to this environment. When we encounter it, it disturbs, discourages, and depresses us.
In her book Nickeled and Dimed, Barbara Ehrenreich trades in her upper-middle-class lifestyle for a series of low-paying jobs, and shatters the myth of upward mobility.
Contrary to the conventional wisdom that working hard will get you ahead, she writes, the bitter truth is that it most often it won't, because these people, some of whom work two jobs at minimum wages, just can't get enough of a foothold to move beyond a day-to-day subsistence.
I'm here to tell you this evening that, thanks to your effort and generosity -- and to the effort and generosity of thousands beyond these walls -- there may be a way out for folks facing difficult life situations: the United Way out.
Our agencies are working tirelessly to assist people like those described by Ms. Ehrenreich. But we're not just writing checks and handing out money. Our objective is to provide individuals and families the opportunity to lift themselves -- financially, physically, and spiritually -- to a level where they can achieve their full potential as productive members of society.
If we think in terms of a Meals on Wheels route leading only into that low-income neighborhood, we would see our dollars as strictly monetary contributions. But if we can think in terms of that road leading back out, our contributions become investments which yield substantial returns to the community many times over.
I would also ask you to rethink your definition of our modifier: United.
You might think of "United" as referring to our association of agencies, whose operations provide critical health, family, youth, and emergency services. Or you might think of it as referring to our local businesses, which endorse our funding appeals and allow us to conduct them in their offices and factories.
While these interpretations are valid, I would challenge you to join me in adopting one more urgent and relevant, one that would eradicate the barriers that separate us as donors or investors from our clients or customers and enable us to become truly united with them.
It won't be easy.
It will require tearing away the blinders that insulate us from the problems that the disadvantaged, the deprived, and the distressed among us confront every day.
It will require opening our eyes and looking into neighborhoods both close and distant, where we will find poverty, hunger, crime, child abuse, spousal abuse, mental illness, and social alienation.
It will require overcoming our ethnic, political, and religious differences, our disparate individual characteristics, and the variable fortunes or misfortunes of our life situations to acknowledge a common humanity.
But the result will be amazing: a "United Way" through our city from which we can look out in all directions and see every citizen having his basic needs met, reaping the fruits of his labor, and daring to believe that his dreams, whatever they may be, can come true.
