William Rivers Pitt: Gag Me with a Silver Spoon, Part I

Saving is a fine thing. Especially when your parents have done it for you.

-- Sir Winston Churchill, whose extremely well-connected family, no doubt, had rooms full of heirloom silver spoons.

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For of those to whom much is given, much is required. And when at some future date the high court of History sits in judgment on each of us, recording whether in our brief span of service we fulfilled our responsibilities to the state, our success or failure, in whatever office we hold, will be measured by the answers to four questions: First, were we truly men of courage ... Second, were we truly men of judgment ... Third, were we truly men of integrity ... Finally, were we truly men of dedication?

-- John Fitzgerald Kennedy, Speech to the Massachusetts State Legislature, January 9, 1961. His extremely well-connected family has rooms full of heirloom silver spoons, too, no doubt. And more than a few silver skeletons in the compound's closets...

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... protected and hidden away, out of sight, by the late Edward B. Hanify, Esquire, William Rivers Pitt's maternal grandfather. How I came to know this is a tale that requires careful telling.

But the best man I have ever known in my life, my grandfather, was a rock-ribbed conservative Catholic Republican. He spoke with respect, argued with passionate logic, and earned the respect of his opponents.

-- William Rivers Pitt, born with a set of heirloom silver spoons in his mouth (just don't dare to ask him how the pater familias actually went about "making" the family fortune).

---

Author's Note: For additional revelations about this and related topics, please see DemocraticWarrior, IdesOfOctober, and ProgressiveIndependent. I know this entry is long, and complex, but the facts to be learned by progressive voters are - I hope - worth the read for the revelations.

My domestic partner and I have been pushing for much-needed reforms at State Street Corporation for more than a decade.

In fact, last month marked the 10-year anniversary of the go live date for a handcoded website I created to help agitate for those reforms; that website would now be called a blog. I think of it as a protoblog.

Yes, back in 1998, Gentle Reader, you pretty much had to know how to handcode HTML if you wanted to express yourself on this new-fangled thing called the Internet. But - as my college roommates and close college friends can attest - I was always an early adopter, and I got the potential of the Internet right away. So, I learned to handcode.

My approach to wielding this new technology was novel enough (at the time), that the Boston Globe ran an article about it, front page, top-of-the-fold, in the Business Section ... Fired Worker Pleads His Case on 'Net in Dispute with Firm: Gay Man Files Bias Complaints with Agencies, Details Saga on Web, by Steve Bailey and Steve Syre, February 18, 1998. My website, or protoblog, had gone live on Friday, February 13th, the same day that the Boston Globe called State Street for comment.

My partner and I had already been to the Globe's offices earlier that day, laying out our evidence. I'll never forget that day. Steve Bailey took us into the Globe's cafeteria, and bought us each a coffee. Earnestly, I began telling the tale, laying out the paper trail for Bailey as I went, with my partner interjecting at key points when I missed a nuance.

After about 15 minutes of listening, Bailey took a thoughtful swig of his coffee, raised his hand up, palm facing toward us, and said one word: "Stop."

For a moment, my heart sank. It must've shown on my face, because Bailey's mug became mirthful. He continued. I'm paraphrasing here, but very close to what was said:

"We've known that State Street is dirty for years. You think you're the first person who's ever brought us evidence of their financial misconduct, or mistreatment of employees, and such? Not even close. But the editors here get very skittish about writing anything critical of State Street. State Street's got the best lawyers in town, and they don't hesitate to use them the moment they catch wind of a critical piece, to try to put the kibosh on it."

OK. That was slightly better. I started to say something, but Bailey continued.

"What's great about your story is, we'd not be reporting what you've already got up on your website as being accurate. We'd be reporting it as being a story about how employees can level the playing field with the Internet, which is revolutionizing everything. The story would be about how you're telling your story, not whether the story you're telling against State Street is true. Don't get me wrong. I think it's true. It's just a good way of framing it."

OK. That was much better. I began to see where he was going with this.

"I can get this by the editors, on that angle. But I will need to call State Street for comment. Have you taken it live yet? Have they seen it?"

They had not.

Only a few trusted friends (beta testers, they might be called, today) had been given the obscure URL, so that they could give me recommendations and feedback for how to make the site better, easier to navigate, and clearer.

I'd been working on the thing for about a month before I felt it was ready to share, under embargo, with the media types, like Bailey.

Bailey pressed the point: in order to write the piece, he would need to contact State Street, and they would need to be given a full and fair opportunity to respond.

That made sense. So, we struck a deal: I would go home, and immediately notify State Street of the site's existence, and let Bailey know when I had done so. In return, he promised to call them, promptly, for comment.

In the 5 days from taking the site live (on Friday, February 13, 1998) until the first article ran (on Wednesday, February 18, 1998), there were many tense back-and-forth calls between Bailey and me. Clearly, his editors were nervous, and Bailey intimated to me that the lawyers and PR flaks for State Street were on the warpath. In order to satisfy his editorial board, Bailey sought - and I provided - additional back-up data. These calls came at some very inopportune times, and I will never forget having to try to get a clear phone signal for one especially critical call.

Finally, late on Tuesday, February 17, 1998, Bailey called, with an exultant tone to his voice: "It runs tomorrow."

My partner and I were up at the buttcrack of dawn that Wednesday. We drove into Harvard Square, and popped over to a landmark: the Out of Town News (OOTN) newstand. Because I used to deliver local and national papers to the Law School dorms for The Harvard Crimson (as just one of the jobs I worked to put myself through college), I happened to know that OOTN got a very early paper drop-off from the Globe's morning distribution network. If my own paper run's drop from The Crimson was missing or short, I could always pop over to OOTN and load up my bags there.

Oh! The sound and the fury! Oh! The sturm and the drang!

The State Street Bank Brass were not amused by the article's appearance that morning. Their lawyers, working bilkable hours, are paid handsomely - with the shareholders' coin - to match their masters' mood.

On the legal front, all hell broke loose.

But something else happened, too. Something I had dared to hope would happen, in fact. But it happened to a far greater degree and extent than I could've hoped for in my wildest wishes or fondest dreams.

My voicemail and my e-mail Inbox began overflowing: not just with words of support (from all over the world, in fact), and not just with flames (which were often amusing to read); but also, the very morning the article was published (and continuing into the present) I began receiving information from others who had information about serious misconduct at State Street.

In other words, my hunch (reinforced by Bailey's words about "knowing for years" that "State Street is crooked") was right: I was not alone. And there were others who wanted to know if I could help get their stories out there, too.

*****

Well, we'd be here all day and into next year if I tried to capture all the ins and outs that have transpired since the story went public.

But salient to today's blog entry, however, is this: State Street was so worried when I subsequently sued them in Federal Court in 2000, that they sent five attorneys, from two separate law firms, to a hearing on their dismissal motion. Of those, two were partners at Ropes & Gray, one of whom I had never before met: Robert F. Hayes, Esquire. The other four lawyers, I had already encountered before that day's hearing.

So, naturally, Hayes' presence intrigued me. Who was he, and why was he there in court?

Today, Hayes is listed as being of counsel at Ropes & Gray. But until recently, he was the "venerable" firm's go-to-guy on corporation and securities law.

Think they might've been nervous about what I had to tell the Court?

After the motion hearing was over, I made it a priority to begin learning as much as possible about Robert F. Hayes, Esquire.

In the course of my partner's and my research wanderings, it came to our attention that Bobby Hayes had been part of Senator Kennedy's Chappaquiddick defense dream team. One day, I was tooling around LEXIS/NEXIS, and decided to do a search of all the cases in which Hayes' name appeared in the headnotes, as counsel of record.

By this time, it was hard to make my jaw drop at anything involving Ropes & Gray. But that made my jaw drop. The mysterious lawyer who had taken my partner and me on at several key points, including me at that motion hearing, was such a legal eagle as to have been handpicked for that case?

As a student of History, and as a student of the complexities of the Kennedy Family Legacy, I was more than intrigued. I mean, for crying out loud! State Street's public statements to the press tried to make it appear that I was nothing more than a nuisance; yet, here State Street was in Court, using a big gun like Hayes to thwart my efforts to bring their misconduct to light? Uh-huh. Yeah, right: just a nuisance.

But then my eye fell on the lead Chappaquiddick defense counselor's name: Edward B. Hanify, Esquire.

Immediately, the synaptic pathways made the connection: Edward B. Hanify, the Ropes & Gray partner who sat on State Street's Board of Directors since the company went public in 1969, until he was replaced in that seat with yet another Ropes & Gray partner, Truman Snell Casner?

That Edward B. Hanify!?! The Edward B. Hanify whose Harvard Law School obituary read:

Edward B. Hanify '36 of Belmont, Mass., died December 31, 2000. He was a retired partner at Ropes & Gray in Boston. He was a member of President Johnson's National Advisory Council on the Education of Disadvantaged Children and an appointee of President Kennedy to the board of visitors at the U.S. Military Academy. In 1969 Hanify was credited with developing Senator Edward Kennedy's legal strategy in the inquest into the death of Mary Jo Kopechne. He served as director of New England Telephone, AT&T, John Hancock Mutual Life Insurance, State Street Bank, and Boston Edison, and as trustee, secretary, and director of the Kennedy Library Foundation. Hanify was a lieutenant in the U.S. Navy during WWII.

The Edward B. Hanify whose son, John D. Hanify, is a named, founding partner at Hanify & King, another crooked Boston law firm.

You know? Hanify & King? You know: the law firm for the BushCo./BFEE creation, The Resolution Trust Corporation?

Come on! Everyone who's anyone in Boston Brahmin Circles knows John D. Hanify. I mean, not only is this guy Edward B. Hanify's son, folks. Among other things:

Before forming Hanify & King, Mr. Hanify served as an Assistant U.S. Attorney for the District of Massachusetts. He represented the Justice Department in the litigation of the constitutionality of various federal statutes and challenges to the Defense Department’s defense and early warning system. For these and other assignments, Mr. Hanify received the Justice Department’s Outstanding Performance Award.

Now, pay attention here, dear reader.

Guess which BushCo./BFEE Bank served as Trustee for the Resolution Trust Corporation?

That's right! State Street Bank & Trust, the principal subsidiary of State Street Corporation, where John D. Hanify's dad "served" as a Director.

Now, as some readers no doubt recall, the creation of the Resolution Trust Corporation (RTC) caused no small amount of controversy. Among the causes for outcry?

Neil Mallon Bush, just one of the white collar criminals spawned by Bush 41 and Babs, was caught up in the Savings & Loan Crisis, which "necessitated" the uppercrust bailout known as RTC. Neil Mallon Bush was a director of Silverado Savings & Loan.

(The Mallon in his name is its own sideline story: in a nutshell, it's the last name of Mr. Mallon, a man Bush 41 admired and worked for, and a man Senator Prescott Bush (R-CT) worked with, at Dresser Industries. You know? Dresser Industries? The asbestos liability nightmare that Dick Cheney bought, via Halliburton subsidiary KBR, to clear a run for W, without embarrassing mesothelioma cases popping up on the campaign trail in 2000 to haunt the Bush Family's good name during the campaign? But, like I said, that's another CorpGovActivist Campfire Tale.)

Back to today's tale:

So, on the Democratic side of the aisle, the Hanify Family has the goods on Senator Kennedy; on the Republican side of the aisle, the Hanify Family has the goods on the Kennebunkport Kleptocrats. So much for any real Federal investigations into State Street.

The Hanify Family in Boston is just like former Bush Secretary of State James Addison Baker III's Family in Austin. Just as BakerBotts protects the BFEE in Texas and other parts, (depending on the legal specialties required by the case), so too does the Hanify Family protect the BFEE in New England and other parts, (again, depending on the legal specialties required by the case). As irony would have it, Baker III's new book waxes nostalgic about his grandfather, too. Just like William Rivers Pitt does about his.

After all, when you're a Hanify or a Baker, you'll never want for bilkable hours.

*****

Interesting stuff, in its own right, to be sure. Stuff that investigative journalists - real ones, not posers - find worthy of writing about in their General Election special series. You know? The kind of hard-hitting, revelatory journalism that wins real Pulitzers?

But, by now, you must be asking yourself: what in the world does all this have to do with William Rivers Pitt?

First, let's establish one thing right off the bat: William Rivers Pitt is a Poseur. He is The Pittseur, in fact. Nor, am I alone in this sentiment, apparently.

(Of especially belly-holding, laugh-out-loud worth, as bitingly brilliant satire goes: check out the author of DummieFunnies, who has Pitt almost perfectly pegged. Whoever that blog's author is, s/he is no Poseur.)

I agree with much of what has been written at DummieFunnies and elsewhere about William Rivers Pitt: Yes, Pitt is the perennial, over-indulged, spoiled manchild. Yes, Pitt is the time-and-again tantrum thrower. Yes, Pitt is (on and on and on we could go).

Will is, after all, (say it with a melodramatic catch in your breath, as if the sheer utterance of his mere name brings you right to the edge of climax) William Rivers Pitt! You know? Scion of the - nay! THE! - Pitts (as he'll modestly tell you).

You know? The Pitt Family that - if only King George had listened to them - would've/could've singlehandedly smoothed over that nasty patch with The Colonies?

Funny, how William Rivers Pitt talks about that one side of his family (the paternal side) by name. Almost like it's an intentional omission of the maternal side.

As those who have bothered to find out know, William Rivers Pitt is the son of Charles Redding Pitt. You know? The Charles Redding Pitt who was on the legal defense team that fumbled the ball on the politically-motivated case against former Alabama Governor Don Siegelman?

You know? The Charles Redding Pitt who the Clintons could always rely on? The one that the former President appointed as a US Attorney?

(Ever wonder how William Rivers Pitt comes by some of his insider's information? Some have speculated he gets or gleans much of it from his dad.)

But then there's the other side of Will's Web: the maternal side of the family. Google the different variants of Will Pitt, William Rivers Pitt, Will Rivers Pitt, etc. - and add in the term grandfather.

As you'll see if you peruse some of those results, more than a few have speculated about who exactly is this Decent Republican Gramps Will mentions (but, curiously, it would seem, never by name).

In late 2006, I found out the answer: none other than the above-mentioned Edward B. Hanify, Esquire is Will's mysterious maternal grandfather.

How'd I find that tidbit out? William. Rivers. Pitt. I. Swear. To. God.

Will threw a Timeless Temper Tantrum, like none I had ever before seen out of him before.

In the fall of 2006, IdesOfOctober posted something on Democratic Underground, linking Edward B. Hanify to State Street and other key BFEE companies, linking Hanify to his role in the cover-up of the Pedophile Priests Scandal in Boston, and linking Hanify to his role in the cover-up of the Chappaquiddick Incident.

Mind you, the research on these connections long pre-dated any knowledge of who the hell William Rivers Pitt is, or thinks he is. Whereas his maternal grandfather, Edward B. Hanify, played a pivotal and historical role as a real Player, Will is a Poseur. A wannabe. The Pittseur.

I have no idea what it was about that particular post that drew The Pittseur's attention. But when he saw the stuff about Edward B. Hanify, he Pittched a PittFit that would've made even Hillary feel the ol' fight or flight instinct.

And, Gentle Reader, Hillary knows from Pittching a PittFit, firsthand.

(Allow me to pause here, to say a quick prayer: Oh, Dear God, please - PLEASE - let there be a picture of Hillary and Willary together, to insert here, on edit. Oh, Gentle Reader, if you know of such a photograph of Whillary, please: send it!)

PissyPitt - Be-Caped Champion of American Freedom (would you like some Fries with that?) - ranted and raved that his grandfather was the most benevolent man ever to walk the face of the Earth. He threatened to have anyone involved with this pack of lies being told about his grandfather (a.k.a., historical truths and verifiable facts regarding his grandfather) banned from Democratic Underground (with visions dancing in his head, perhaps, of calling in his family's connections - on both sides of the aisle - to get the foul perpetrators thrown into GITMO).

So much for Willary's belief in - or real respect for - free speech, the free marketplace of ideas, or historical debate. Challenged by others with real, bona fide research and investigative chops (as opposed to the sops of insider info that he's given by family members, or that he overhears them talking about when he's sitting at the kiddies' table at family gatherings), Willary went to WhineCON 1.

Oh, yes, Little Lord Fauntleroy, distaff scion of one of the lesser-known Boston Brahmin Families, was in rare form that day. Watch out! He has a riding crop and his very own pony!

The moderators of the discussion board treated the whole thing pretty even-handedly, all things considered. Realizing it hadn't been an attack on Will (how could it have been?), the mods simply "tidied up" the thread.

I mean, seriously, what were the odds that:

1. Anyone mixed up with the Hanify Hijinx would be on Democratic Underground to begin with? Let alone:

2. That they'd be a close relation of Edward B. Hanify, Esquire, the pater familias? Close enough of a relative, in fact, to:

3. Pittch a PittFit.

The odds were astronomical against all those things being true; in fact, at first it seemed like Willary was making a joke - it was simply too absurd to believe.

I mean, for real?!?

Let's review:

Willary's uncle is the founding partner of Hanify & King, which formed part of the Boston Archdiocese's defense team (to help continue the cover-up started by grandpa Hannify)?!? Hanify & King represented Bishop Daily, a top aide to Cardinal Law, at the height of the abuse scandal a few years ago.

Willary's grandfather - that Decent Republican he likes to mention so often (but never, it seems, by name) - was chief counsel to Cardinal Cushing back when the majority of the offenses and cover-ups were going on in the Boston Archdiocese?!?

And we're all supposed to believe that his grandfather, the friggin' chief counsel to the Cardinal, wasn't in on the scheme to shuttle offending priests on to other, unsuspecting parishes? Just because Willary stamps his feet, turns blue, and falls down kicking and screaming in a tantrum?

Codswallop! Any real journalist would know better. But Will isn't a real journalist. He's a Poseur.

One need only look at the annual Red Mass in Boston to see the insidious and corrupting influence some old school rock-ribbed Republican Catholic lawyers have had on the legal system there over these many decades. There they are, rubbing elbows with the likes of Justice Scalia at the Red Mass. There they are, plotting how to turn back progressive gains in the courts.

Peruse those news articles about the Red Mass and its history at your leisure, and you'll see law firms mentioned here (in this blog entry) also listed there (in those news stories of record).

No wonder this distaff family stuff is such a sore subject for Willary. Poseurdom is precarious. An inconvenient truth can bring that house of cards crashing down.

How can this Progressive Poseur reconcile the money he gives to DU, with how that money was minted?

How can this Progressive Poseur reconcile his lazy approach to investigative journalism, with whether his family members feed him insider information about past, pending, or ongoing DOJ investigations?

How can this Progressive Poseur reconcile his academic choices with the fact that his Decent Republican gramps was a College Trustee of Holy Cross, Willary's alma mater? Could Willary not get in anywhere else?

In this laughable puff piece at TruthOut, titled Boston Globe Discovers William Rivers Pitt (no, really, I swear, that's how TruthOut titled it), we learn that:

At the College of the Holy Cross in Worcester, Pitt majored in English literature, with a concentration in Eastern religion. In the school's conservative atmosphere he felt ''a bit like a political movement of one.'' ... This story ran on page W1 of the Globe West section on 12/19/2002.

So, let me get this straight:

1. Willary went to the school where his Decent Republican Gramps had been on the Board of Trustees.

2. Willary didn't like it there at Holy Cross, even as a legacy admission. So he set about becoming a one-man political movement, at Holy Cross.

3. Willary didn't try to - or, perhaps, succeed at - getting a transfer to another college?

4. Willary and his pals at TruthOut think that any grandson of Edward B. Hanify is discovered when the Globe writes a puff piece in Section W of the Globe West section (for suburbs west of Boston)? Um, sorry. The Hanify Family is well-known in Boston. That's like saying that Emilio Estévez was discovered by Hollywood, without anyone having the foggiest clue that his dad is Martin Sheen, or that his brother is Charlie Sheen. If Willary and his pals at TruthOut really believe that, I want some of that Boston Brahmin Ganja they're smokin'.

As for me, I have always sought out challenging academic environments, and I certainly wasn't a legacy admission, like Wee Whining Willary. As I wrote elsewhere, I even chose to forego a cushy full ride at William & Mary as one of their Monroe Scholars, in order to push myself and stretch my cultural boundaries:

I don't like surrounding myself with only like-minded folks. I like to be challenged. If "cultural more of the same" was what I was after, I would have accepted the cushy full ride to William & Mary, rather than busting my ass working up to three jobs each semester at Harvard. Stretching my cultural boundaries was important to me at 18, coming from the coal fields of West Virginia. It's important to me still at 34. [Let me reaffirm: it's important to me still at 36.]

Will's mom, another lawyer, Jane Hanify Pitt, Esquire - posting as Raven on the Democratic Underground - has posted pics of Willary and his Decent Republican Gramps. She has spoken, in glowing terms, about how her father practically raised the boy.

Leaving Willary's daddy issues well out of it, I think The Pittseur needs to realize that he's in pretty much the same boat as the one that Samuel David Cheney is in: in fact, one can foresee the Littlest Cheney insisting in a furious tantrum, someday some years hence, what a Decent Republican Gramps really was (at least, to those who knew him only through their rose-colored, pretentious glasses).

Except little Samuel David Cheney won't have the luxury - like William Rivers Pitt - of hiding the connection to his Gramps behind intentionally vague omissions of his Gramps' name. After all, Samuel David Cheney and his Granddick share the same last name.

Three Parting Lessons for today's Part I:

Parting Lesson #1. With Easter quickly approaching, perhaps certain Boston Brahmin legal eagle families (who seem to think they're untouchable, by dint of being consligiere and solicitors to both the BFEE, and to its Democratic complicitors) should consider the Curse of Christ on Cowardly, Cunning Counselors. From The Gospel of St. Luke, Chapter 11.

44: Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are as graves which appear not, and the men that walk over them are not aware of them.

45: Then answered one of the lawyers, and said unto him, Master, thus saying thou reproachest us also.

46: And he said, Woe unto you also, ye lawyers! for ye lade men with burdens grievous to be borne, and ye yourselves touch not the burdens with one of your fingers.

[Like a certain spoiled trust fund brat, and his legal eagle family, have laden others with burdens grievous to be borne? Burdens like those still being borne by the pedophile priest abuse victims and their famililes, or the victims of the Resolution Trust Corporation's antics?]

47: Woe unto you! for ye build the sepulchres of the prophets, and your fathers killed them.

[Or, covered up the sins of the fathers, i.e., the pedophile priests who were trusted with the title of Father, who preyed on innocent children.]

48: Truly ye bear witness that ye allow the deeds of your fathers: for they indeed killed them, and ye build their sepulchres.

[Just don't ask any legal eagle families' trust fund brats where the money came from, in order to erect all those marble monuments. Bilkable hours aren't an easy gig to break into, ya know. Christ Himself, a great Teacher even if you only view him as a secular leader, had the familial, generational issue and lawyers pegged.]

49: Therefore also said the wisdom of God, I will send them prophets and apostles, and some of them they shall slay and persecute:

50: That the blood of all the prophets, which was shed from the foundation of the world, may be required of this generation;

51: From the blood of Abel unto the blood of Zacharias, which perished between the altar and the temple: verily I say unto you, It shall be required of this generation.

52: Woe unto you, lawyers! for ye have taken away the key of knowledge: ye entered not in yourselves, and them that were entering in ye hindered.

[Even the intellectually-lazy grandsons of some such lawyers get in on the key of knowledge taking away and hiding act, especially when the inconvenient truths that might be uncovered would fly in the face of the grandson's gossamer tissue tales about his Decent Republican Gramps. Let's face it: form follows function. Here, the form (i.e., Willary's repeated omissions of his maternal grandfather's name) follows a very intentional function (i.e., to prevent his readers from learning more, and making up their own minds about whether Wee Whining Willary has lived up to the expectations of one to whom much was given in his trust fund.) The point of that verse goes deeper: Will entered not in to learn the truth about his grandfather's real role in History, and them that were entering in he hindered.]

53: And as he said these things unto them, the scribes and the Pharisees began to urge him vehemently, and to provoke him to speak of many things:

54: Laying wait for him, and seeking to catch something out of his mouth, that they might accuse him.

I think it is fair to say that Christ Himself drew a pretty good bead on what Boston Brahmin lawyers would be, look, and sound like, 2000 years later. To translate from the French, "the more things change, the more they stay the same." Latter-generation lawyers of legal eagle families in New Testament Jerusalem aren't really so different from latter-generation lawyers of legal eagle families in the Back Bay of Boston.

Funny, too, how the priestly hierarchies and sects of the predominant organized religion of Christ's day, age, and place (the Pharisees and the Saducees) worked hand-in-glove with the lawyers in Luke 11, against the very works of Christ Himself.

Because - and I pull no punches here - that is precisely what the priestly hierarchies in Boston did: worked hand-in-glove with their lawyers, against the very works of Christ Himself: suffer little children to come unto me.

You do not get to help design the legal strategy to shuttle pedophile priests around, and also get to go down in History without its being recorded.

You do not get to help craft the legal strategy that revictimized truthtelling victims and their families, and also get to go down in History without its being recorded. Christ Himself said suffer little children to come unto me, not cause little children to suffer (and to fear to come into my house of worship).

You do not get to escape the judgment of History, as JFK so wisely pointed out in one of the opening quotes of this blog entry.

You do not get to do these things: even if you have a tantrum-prone Poseur for a grandson, who is unwilling to see what History really teaches here.

In fact, the Bible Itself is nothing, if not an everlasting testament to how even powerful cabals and entrenched interests, working hand-in-glove with one another, cannot silence the accounts of their complicitous and duplicitous dealings. The New Testament consists of:

* The Gospels: the "good news," or, traditionally, four eyewitness accounts that included details of the conspiracists' actions to silence the troublesome rabble-rouser in their midst.

* The Acts of the Apostles: the detailed account of how the leaders of the new splinter sect - known today as Christians - worked to spread the good news far and wide, into strange lands, and among hostile audiences (including the same vested interests who worked against Christ Himself; those interests continued to keep a watchful eye on, and harrying stance toward, the new splinter sect).

* The Epistles, or The Letters: the IMs and discussion board chats of the Early Church, if you will, figuring out how to organize their splinter sect in accordance with their best approximation of what Christ Himself might have done.

* The Revelation: the view of what was gonna happen to those evildoers (like the Pharisees and Lawyers, throughout time), come Judgment Day.

No. You do not get to do these things, without its being recorded, and without it creating a splinter group that rises up to oppose it.

Parting Lesson #2. Follow the money:

* Edward B. Hanify, National Right to Life

* John D. Hanify, John McCain, 2000

* Belmont, Massachusetts, where the Hanify pater familias held court, is one of the toniest, snottiest neighborhoods in America, and is chock full of trust fund progressives, eager to tell the rest of us how we should be living our lives, running our country, and electing our officials.

Parting Lesson #3. If only: (A) Wee Whining Willary had been blessed with the looks of a leading man or a bonny boy; and (B) Willary had ever actually known the blessings of an honest day's hard work (virtually unknown to many - but by no means all - of the trust funders I've encountered), then (C) Wee Whining Willary might've tried out, convincingly, for a couple of parts that Ricky Schroeder got instead:

* Little Lord Fauntleroy, opposite Sir Alec Guinness, in the 1980 made-for-TV adaptation that caused my elementary school teacher that year to recommend that I tackle the book, since I liked the in-class showing so much. Little did she know that she thus armed me with important and valuable knowledge regarding class distinctions I would first face once I got to Harvard - where there are trust fund babies and then there are trust fund brats. Wee Whining Willary ain't the former type of trust funder.

* Silver Spoons, opposite John Houseman (as the Decent Republican Gramps to Little Ricky's manchild). Ah, yes. Wee Whining Willary is Silver Spoons, personified (with a trust fund to keep 'em polished, using someone else's elbow grease).

In conclusion: Wee Whining Willary's trust fund tripe is tolerated on DU because DU's founders benefit from his trust fund, too - without much caring about (and indeed, while they cover for) the source of those trust fund donations. If Willary doesn't care how the trust fund got all that money in it, why should they?

After all, DU's founders don't care to know about the source of Billary's secret Presidential Library donations, either.

Whining Willary well knows what Winston was on about when he said: Saving is a fine thing. Especially when your [Decent Republican] (grand)parents have done it for you.

Whining Willary doesn't even come close to measuring up to JFK's address to the Massachusetts General Court: For of those to whom much is given, much is required. And when at some future date the high court of History sits in judgment on each of us, recording whether in our brief span of service we fulfilled our responsibilities to the state, our success or failure, in whatever office we hold, will be measured by the answers to four questions: First, were we truly men of courage ... Second, were we truly men of judgment ... Third, were we truly men of integrity ... Finally, were we truly men of dedication?

(Yet, he'll regale you, ad infinitum et ad nauseam, about how important - nay! indispensable! -his entire family was to Camelot.)

Just don't mention Chappaquiddick to Wee Whining Willary - like I did, to a Kennedy campaigner in '94, who was yammering at me to Vote Kennedy, as I walked by Out of Town News in Harvard Square, of all places. Ah, 1994! That was before I knew anything about State Street, or the Hanify Hijinx, or the other corporate scandals I've mentioned here.

But I did already know - from my study of History - about Chappaquiddick.

This Kennedy campaigner, dead serious, asked, "What's a Chappaquiddick?" I kid you not. I remain as dumbstruck at the memory of it, almost, as I was in the moment itself. This guy knew about as much about the real history of Chappaquiddick as Wee Willary knows about his grandfather's true actions during it, to save Senator Kennedy from the fate that has befallen Governor Spitzer.

It takes JFK's four elements - courage, judgment, integrity, and dedication - to unravel the interplay of some of the more complex corporate cabals.

The Poseurs and The Pittseurs should get out of the way of those who actually know how to do it right, and stop hindering those of us who are seeking to enter in to the places where answers dwell. And stop hiding that key of knowledge, too, while you're at it. No need to repeat your Decent Republican Grampsies' mistakes, you little trust fund brats. Yes, get out of the way of those of us who know what we're doing, and know how to make things happen on our own merits, not our family connections.

Back to State Street: The board has been recommending votes
against a similar declassification proposal filed annually by one annoying shareholder for years. But the vote was close in 2003, and it finally passed this year, by a substantial margin.

Now the board has changed its mind. Perhaps directors are
just acting on the expressed interest of shareholders. You think?

The shareholder who pushed the issue in the first place was
Patrick Jorstad of Alexandria, Va. He is the partner of David Smith, a former employee of State Street who said he was fired six years ago after complaining that a colleague had revealed he was gay. Smith waged a one-man public relations war with State Street via his own website, demonstrating an uncanny ability to obtain internal documents and post them for embarrassing public viewing. Smith and, by extension, Jorstad, tormented State Street for years. Imagine the moment directors decided they'd have to fundamentally change the way they do business because of a movement created by Jorstad, also a former employee. I'd bet it was like chewing glass.

Board reform has been a good story for investors everywhere
this year. Big shareholders are taking their votes more seriously and getting results. There's plenty more work to do. -- Directors Feel the Heat, Boston Globe, December 23, 2004.

While The Poseurs and The Pittseurs are at it, they might also want to explore the fuller truth about how those overflowing trust funds of theirs got funded in the first place, and maybe take a good, hard, honest look into the roles their Decent Republican Grampsies really played in History. I'd even be willing to show Wee Whining Willary how real research is done. Fair warning: it requires breaking a sweat.

- Dave

*****

P.S. In one of the funnier and more revealing exchanges I ever had with Wee Whining Willary, we discussed cultural touchstones of his world (New England clambakes) and mine (Appalachian ramp festivals). At response 29, I offered to exchange tales. He replied with a response explaining the rationale for clambakes (including the prospect of his getting laid, however remote you might adjudge that to be, Gentle Reader).

In that response, he made a point to post a picture intimating that his family might be involved in Skull and Bones.

Now, I always thought that the first rule of that particular Fight Club is that Poseurs in the family don't get to know who is in Skull and Bones. Maybe Wee Whining Willary was just shadow boxing with himself, though, in his own personal fight club.

My response?

Well, it speaks for itself. Almost. One element may bear explaining. I wrote: I see your usually fear-inspiring clandestine group, and raise you a...

[this picture]

That thar is a picture of a meeting of the Molly Maguires. Posted playfully, but also to make a serious point: shove your Boston Brahmin Buddy connections and what you think those connections mean, Little Lord Fauntleroy. You're only a legend in your own mind, and far, far, far from being the greatest deed doer in your family, either side, take your pick; take away the trust fund and other $$$ you got along the way from your Decent Republican Gramps, and see how long you'd last, merely on your merits. That's a reality show I think we'd all watch.

Maybe I should've added a reference to a little song by Garth Brooks to accompany the pic of the Molly Maguires: I've Got Friends in Low Places. (But I move equally comfortably in both worlds, and just about anywhere in between. That helps explain what the Boston Globe described as my uncanny ability to obtain internal documents and post them for embarrassing public viewing. I like the company of all sorts of people, and my personal experiences, not to mention the airs of Appalachia, make it a lot easier to relate to people of all sorts, than do the rarefied airs breathed by Belmont and Beacon Hill Brahmins).