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Have windmill, will tilt....
Mar. 31st, 2014 08:32 pmCourt downtown this morning: uneventful.
Post-court appearance: weird.
I couldn't find an on-street parking space for love or money, and wound up in a ramp on the same side street as the county Board of Elections. And thus I decided to renew a not-so-glorious quest that I first wrote about here last fall. It's about the thoroughly undemocratic process by which our state's political parties choose nominees for the judges who sit on the state court system's trial level of general statewide jurisdiction, somewhat misnamed as Supreme Court.
The process that culminated last fall can be summed up in a word: rigged.
In a function that sounds like something out of Night Vale, beginning tomorrow night, small groups of "judicial delegates" will meet in closed session, in venues designated by their respective political party leaders (the Dems will be at their Buffalo headquarters, the Republicans at- I swear I am not making this up- "a vacant store in an Amherst plaza at Maple and North Forest roads"), and they will vote for the Supreme Court candidate their Dear Leader Party Chairman tells them to. This is virtually assured since the Dear Leader Party Chairman, in almost every case, hand-picked those delegates to do just that.
Before this event last September, a friend of mine had spent the spring and summer "running" for his party's nomination. He did all the things you'd expect: attending festivals, marching in parades, kissing babies, and attending fundraisers (his and others'). But when that fated night came, his mission was to fall on his sword and wait his turn- which he has. He is now running again, in a much wider-open field this coming fall. For odd-numbered years rarely produce State Supreme vacancies- last year's was due to an unexpected resignation- but this year's contest will be for five different seats up for grabs in our eight-county region of the state, only two of them now held by incumbents likely to be running for re-election. That means it's a relatively rare opportunity for the rank and file of the general electrorate, and maybe of the local bar and lower-court bench members, to have a fair shot at being judged on how well they, themselves, could judge. And as far as "shots" go, there's been a veritable volley of them- more than 35 Democrats got their names into a published report of possible contenders for the five spots (including the two incumbents).
As far as the "fair" part of the shot goes, though? Crickets. Because so far, the interested candidates are toeing the line, making the rounds, kissing the babies, and not doing anything to rock the established system for selecting such nominees- which is for each major party's Dear Leader Chairman to hand-pick them, put those hand-picked nominees to the floor of the nominating convention, and then bask in the unanimous acclamation of their wise and generous choices.
Just one problem, though. I am not a candidate- just a voter, a practicing attorney and a writer, and not necessarily in that order. Today's random parking snafu gave me the kick in the pants I needed to get into the bowels of the Board of Elections- a patronage pit of the highest order- and look into what an independent citizen might do in order to get on the September primary ballot for judicial convention delegate.
----
One thing needs to be said, first and foremost: they were very nice, and helpful, and unthreatening as I made clear that I was interested in the process for entering this closed little club on something other than the usual terms. "I can't remember anybody ever asking about this other than from a party headquarters," one (more-or-less) said to me. But they gave an overview of the process, confirmed by the state Board of Elections website. Anybody in a party can print and circulate petitions within their State Assembly district, and if they have the right number of signers, they will be put on the ballot in September to gain entry into their Dear Party Leader's nominating convention. They also showed me a couple of sample petitions from two A.D.'s for the convention that picked my party's nominee for the one suddenly open seat last fall. They're not hard; just get signatures, addresses, verify party membership, get them witnessed, number them properly and sequentially, and bring them down sometime over the summer.
Officially, though? To have that peek, I had to file a Freedom of Information request, which, unlike many shenanigans down at the Board, was immediately granted and the petitions handed to me for review. But they now have my name, address, and my lack of Party HQ affiliation. This now gets me back to suspecting that I am well on my way to persona non grata status with the party I have belonged to since 1977.
Coincidentally enough, today brought my April edition of the local bar journal, and in it was an announcement of a May seminar, given for continuing ed credit and everything, that will explain the in's and out's of running for judicial office in this county. Again, I have no interest in The Job for my own self, but it sounds like a worthwhile event to sign up for, and maybe even do a little lobbying at. I've also composed a somewhat toned-down version of last fall's blog post (deleting the "Dear Leader" references as being, well, a little TOO snarky) and will be submitting it to that self-same bar journal for May publication, encouraging other fellow attorneys to take this civic-minded step to get involved in the real choice of the judges who will be deciding our cases for the next 14 years. As my draft puts it:
If I’m the only gadfly who tries to crash the party, I’ll be ignored- either ruled off the ballot if my petition filing isn’t perfect, or simply outvoted once the post-Primary Day of reckoning comes about. But what if more members of this Bar Association did the same? We have a long tradition of electing our Bar leaders in open and competitive elections, unlike the Soviet-style proxy systems favored by many of our colleagues elsewhere. If every law firm, every group of smaller and solo practitioners, every inside counsel took the time and made the effort to get neighbors’ support for their entrance into this closed-to-us party? At a minimum, I think it would shake up the Party Chairmen enough to bring some reform to the process- and, at most? We might have something resembling democracy going on here.
That last reference ties back to my headline for the piece- a quote from the first episode of Series 2 of Netflix's House of Cards, in which Kevin Spacey gets sworn in as the unelected VPOTUS (beginning an arc that ends, um, somewhat similarly), and in one of his trademark asides, he says to us:
One heartbeat away from the presidency and not a single vote case in my name. Democracy is so overrated.
You might very well think I feel the same way about this local clusterfudge of politics. I couldn't possibly comment.
Post-court appearance: weird.
I couldn't find an on-street parking space for love or money, and wound up in a ramp on the same side street as the county Board of Elections. And thus I decided to renew a not-so-glorious quest that I first wrote about here last fall. It's about the thoroughly undemocratic process by which our state's political parties choose nominees for the judges who sit on the state court system's trial level of general statewide jurisdiction, somewhat misnamed as Supreme Court.
The process that culminated last fall can be summed up in a word: rigged.
In a function that sounds like something out of Night Vale, beginning tomorrow night, small groups of "judicial delegates" will meet in closed session, in venues designated by their respective political party leaders (the Dems will be at their Buffalo headquarters, the Republicans at- I swear I am not making this up- "a vacant store in an Amherst plaza at Maple and North Forest roads"), and they will vote for the Supreme Court candidate their Dear Leader Party Chairman tells them to. This is virtually assured since the Dear Leader Party Chairman, in almost every case, hand-picked those delegates to do just that.
Before this event last September, a friend of mine had spent the spring and summer "running" for his party's nomination. He did all the things you'd expect: attending festivals, marching in parades, kissing babies, and attending fundraisers (his and others'). But when that fated night came, his mission was to fall on his sword and wait his turn- which he has. He is now running again, in a much wider-open field this coming fall. For odd-numbered years rarely produce State Supreme vacancies- last year's was due to an unexpected resignation- but this year's contest will be for five different seats up for grabs in our eight-county region of the state, only two of them now held by incumbents likely to be running for re-election. That means it's a relatively rare opportunity for the rank and file of the general electrorate, and maybe of the local bar and lower-court bench members, to have a fair shot at being judged on how well they, themselves, could judge. And as far as "shots" go, there's been a veritable volley of them- more than 35 Democrats got their names into a published report of possible contenders for the five spots (including the two incumbents).
As far as the "fair" part of the shot goes, though? Crickets. Because so far, the interested candidates are toeing the line, making the rounds, kissing the babies, and not doing anything to rock the established system for selecting such nominees- which is for each major party's Dear Leader Chairman to hand-pick them, put those hand-picked nominees to the floor of the nominating convention, and then bask in the unanimous acclamation of their wise and generous choices.
Just one problem, though. I am not a candidate- just a voter, a practicing attorney and a writer, and not necessarily in that order. Today's random parking snafu gave me the kick in the pants I needed to get into the bowels of the Board of Elections- a patronage pit of the highest order- and look into what an independent citizen might do in order to get on the September primary ballot for judicial convention delegate.
----
One thing needs to be said, first and foremost: they were very nice, and helpful, and unthreatening as I made clear that I was interested in the process for entering this closed little club on something other than the usual terms. "I can't remember anybody ever asking about this other than from a party headquarters," one (more-or-less) said to me. But they gave an overview of the process, confirmed by the state Board of Elections website. Anybody in a party can print and circulate petitions within their State Assembly district, and if they have the right number of signers, they will be put on the ballot in September to gain entry into their Dear Party Leader's nominating convention. They also showed me a couple of sample petitions from two A.D.'s for the convention that picked my party's nominee for the one suddenly open seat last fall. They're not hard; just get signatures, addresses, verify party membership, get them witnessed, number them properly and sequentially, and bring them down sometime over the summer.
Officially, though? To have that peek, I had to file a Freedom of Information request, which, unlike many shenanigans down at the Board, was immediately granted and the petitions handed to me for review. But they now have my name, address, and my lack of Party HQ affiliation. This now gets me back to suspecting that I am well on my way to persona non grata status with the party I have belonged to since 1977.
Coincidentally enough, today brought my April edition of the local bar journal, and in it was an announcement of a May seminar, given for continuing ed credit and everything, that will explain the in's and out's of running for judicial office in this county. Again, I have no interest in The Job for my own self, but it sounds like a worthwhile event to sign up for, and maybe even do a little lobbying at. I've also composed a somewhat toned-down version of last fall's blog post (deleting the "Dear Leader" references as being, well, a little TOO snarky) and will be submitting it to that self-same bar journal for May publication, encouraging other fellow attorneys to take this civic-minded step to get involved in the real choice of the judges who will be deciding our cases for the next 14 years. As my draft puts it:
If I’m the only gadfly who tries to crash the party, I’ll be ignored- either ruled off the ballot if my petition filing isn’t perfect, or simply outvoted once the post-Primary Day of reckoning comes about. But what if more members of this Bar Association did the same? We have a long tradition of electing our Bar leaders in open and competitive elections, unlike the Soviet-style proxy systems favored by many of our colleagues elsewhere. If every law firm, every group of smaller and solo practitioners, every inside counsel took the time and made the effort to get neighbors’ support for their entrance into this closed-to-us party? At a minimum, I think it would shake up the Party Chairmen enough to bring some reform to the process- and, at most? We might have something resembling democracy going on here.
That last reference ties back to my headline for the piece- a quote from the first episode of Series 2 of Netflix's House of Cards, in which Kevin Spacey gets sworn in as the unelected VPOTUS (beginning an arc that ends, um, somewhat similarly), and in one of his trademark asides, he says to us:
One heartbeat away from the presidency and not a single vote case in my name. Democracy is so overrated.
You might very well think I feel the same way about this local clusterfudge of politics. I couldn't possibly comment.