Ed Lawson is my friend. Ed Lawson is "a Black Man, an African American man, a Negro man. He is, for a variety of reasons, a man I admire.
He is a "real American hero" and this article he has written will tell you a little about why this is so.
Norman Horowitz
STAND UP STRAIGHT
BY EDWARD LAWSON
EDWARDLAWSON.COM
I've been absent from 8th grade for decades. But I can still remember the 8th grade return-from-summer-vacation "show & tell." I can hear the teacher telling me to stand up straight. And I can imagine, how I might tell the other little boys & girls about my summertime constitutional collision with the Federal Drug Enforcement Administration on board an ordinary Amtrak Train in Albuquerque, New Mexico, earlier this week as I attempted to Amtrak from Los Angeles to Chicago.
On Sunday, June 8, at 6:45 PM at Union Station in Los Angeles, I boarded Amtrak's Southwest Chief # 4, train car 413, seat 6. I was amazed that we departed on time. I anticipated that we would arrive at Chicago's Union Station on time, on Wednesday at 3:20 PM.
This railroad ride is routine, as the sumptuous southwest scenery slides by my window. Then suddenly out of nowhere my bucolic bubble is burst by the Federal Drug Enforcement Administration, when the Amtrak Train stops in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
At the Albuquerque, New Mexico, Train Station stop, on Monday, June 9, at about 12:30 PM, I step off the Amtrak Train to take a "not-smoking break." As I return to my seat, a short, extremely Caucasian, guy, dressed in blue jeans and a grungy brown tee shirt talks to the passenger seated behind me. He is the playground bully who will mature into the new right-wing "boutique bigot," who won't use the "n" word, but will work more effectively to those "n" ends than all those, who use to use the "n" word all over the place, back when you were in 8th grade.
Standing next to my Amtrak passenger train seat I am going through my brief case.
Federal drug enforcement agent - T.F.O. Bassett - starts mumbling to me about something to do with protecting the train.
Mr. Bassett asks me, is the luggage above my seat mine?
I answer yes.
Mr. Bassett asks me where am I going.
I answer Chicago.
Mr. Bassett asks why am I going to Chicago?
I ask Mr. Bassett does he have any identification and a business card.
Mr. Bassett flips out a small gold badge.
I inform Mr. Bassett that I can't read the tiny badge without my glasses. Therefore I again request a business card.
Mr. Bassett can't find his business card.
Mr. Bassett asks which of the bags above my seat are mine.
I point and say this one - this one - that one...
Mr. Bassett gets angrier.
Mr. Bassett tells me that I have to go with him.
I ask where and for what purpose.
Mr. Bassett says, to talk.
I point out that we can and are talking at present, right here.
Mr. Bassett starts a diatribe about the fact that he doesn't like my attitude.
Mr. Bassett calls to someone behind me, that I can't see to "take him."
A person, who we will call Mr. Doe #3, violently twists my left arm behind my back and starts to drag me down the isle of my Amtrak Train car backwards.
(Although the swelling has gone down, I still get periodic flashing pain)
Mr. Doe #3, in a loud voice yells a running commentary of what he is doing at this very moment.
The only problem is that Mr. Doe #3 is describing things that simply are not happening.
Mr. Doe #3 yells out that I am resisting.
I inform Mr. Doe # 3 that, that is not true.
And I ask Mr. Doe # 3, how am I resisting?
Mr. Doe #3 gives no answer.
Mr. Doe #3 hand cuffs me, backs me down the stairs, and takes me to an dark empty baggage car.
In this car there are no lights and no witnesses. This dark railroad baggage car is exactly the place where white police officers have taken negroes, to beat them to death, throughout American history. When old negroes gather 8th graders around the camp fire, these are the stories that they tell, in the first person singular, or the first person next-of-kin.
At this point, I have absolutely no idea of:
Who any of these people really are.
Who do these people work for?
What they think they are doing.
None of these people have volunteered any of this information and I haven't a clue.
Mr. Doe #3 while holding me handcuffed in the dark baggage car is rambling and says something about "he can do whatever he wants," several times.
Mr. Doe #3 states that "the courts have ruled that if a citizen, while talking to a police officer, stands up straight, that, this shift in posture is considered by the courts to be a threat to assault the officer and an arrest-able offense."
And because I stood up straight, this is the reason they arrested me?
Okay, I confess, I will admit, I am a card caring S.A.G. member and have been an actor and dancer most of my adult life. We are trained to stand up straight. The actors who don't stand up straight, don't get jobs (unless they are cast in the role of a DEA Agent). Therefore by profession, I along with many other SAG, AFTRA and Actors, Equity members are guilty of criminal posture, according to Mr. Doe #3 and the courts.
This would be laughable, if all these people didn't have lots of guns and little judgment, and no supervision.
Mr. Doe #3 in the dark railroad baggage car rambles and repeats incoherent threats and pseudo legal opinions over and over.
Mr. Doe #3 says that I was arrested because Mr. Bassett did not like my attitude and/or my criminal shift in posture, which has been ruled by the courts as an arrest-able threat to assault a "peace" officer.
Mr. Mark D. Hyland (the third DEA Agent) brings my bags down to the dark baggage car.
Mr. Hyland is the only one of the three agents who could find his business card.
Mr. Bassett arrives a moment later and asks can he search the bags?
I ask: Do I have a choice in the matter?
Mr. Bassett says if I don't let them search my bags, they will bring in "THE DOGS."
I decline the search, thank you, I don't need my bags searched right now.
Mr. Bassett, with James Bond bravado, radios to bring in "THE DOGS."
Mr. Basset removes me from the dark railroad baggage car so I can't see what "the dogs" will do.
Then "the dogs" arrive.
Well, it turns out, that "the dogs" is one very skinny female mutt, who it seems they only feed when she finds negroes with drugs. Another working women under-paid under that glass ceiling. Where is N.O.W. when a working women needs them.
And this poor animal apparently has not found her meal ticket in a long time.
Where is the local SPCA when a dog needs her best friend.
We will refer to the dog as Ms. Doe #4.
Ms. Doe #4 - the dog - goes behind closed doors for several suspense filled minutes.
Mr. Bassett makes good use of this time to ramble and mumble through variations of how he does not like my attitude.
Mr. Bassett threatens that he can take me off the train anytime he likes, and that standing up straighter according to the courts is a threat to assault an officer, and so on and so on...
I am told by local New Mexico Liberals (yes, although an endangered species - they still do exist) that some years ago, the United States Tenth Circuit Court of Appeals had placed the United State Federal Drug Enforcement Agency under a Court Order itemizing over 40 step-by-step procedures that the DEA must follow before they can do what they did to me.
People pay no attention to the Federal Courts in New Mexico. If we can figure out a way to move New Mexico to somewhere in the suburbs of Los Angeles, where it would be in the jurisdiction of the legendary United States Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals, then these three DEA Agents would be sitting in jail crying about their contempt of court citations. Dog, Ms. Doe #4, would likely cut a plea (or a flea) bargain and testify against her other three co-conspirators.
Finally Ms. Doe #4, the dog, returns from her American Idol style judging job.
Ms. Doe #4 announces, in some manner or other, that I am free to go.
When our American democracy is run by dogs, they use the pages of the U.S. Constitution as kitty litter.
That suddenly - they let me go.
I walk back to my seat and receive some "high fives" from my fellow Amtrak train passengers.
Our Amtrak train attendant, Ms. Wendy Miller, volunteers that she could not believe what she has just seen in her America, on her train.
Apologizing for the trains' delay, I announce that I had been arrested for failing Mr. Bassett's attitude test.
The train pulls out of the Albuquerque, New Mexico station at about 1:15 PM, leaving behind yet another example of the Katrina Competency Crisis in modern American government.
Okay! Boys and girls, what have we learned from Edward's adventure on Amtrak? At "fast food" speed, this civil rights violation only took a matter of minutes.
At the same time, quietly repeated, ad infinitum, all over America, there is an army of these everyday offenses against law-and-order by "law-and-order."
Multiply these minor moments of madness, by millions of cops, plus billions of budget dollars, plus conservative courts and a callus congress, and it will someday add up to bring Edward's simple train ride to an intersection in our German History Books in the early 1930's when everything was still alright, but little things were starting to go wrong, and all our grandparents did nothing - until it was to late. Not one would stand up to the minor miscarriages of well intended maniacs.
The next time I'm at one of those liberal, trendy, oh-so-posh Hollywood Hills parties, and the subject turns to the question "where are the Three Stooges these days"? I have the answer.
They are working for the Federal Drug Enforcement Agency.
Special Agents Curly, Larry and Moe, lead by Clarabelle The Clown, scrutinized by a judiciary headed by Goofy and the other Eight Dwarfs.
Any 8th grader knows the difference between the "law of the land" and the law of the streets, and the Bill of Rights' purpose to protect one from the other. Look at Washington nowadays and wonder -- would we be better off if 8th graders ran the country?
EDWARD LAWSON
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edward_C._Lawson
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