Please Excuse My Dear Aunt Severability

Think back to middle school math. You likely learned the phrase, Please excuse my dear Aunt Sally. This mnemonic device was used to teach the order of operations for math questions: (1) Parentheses, (2) exponents, (3) multiplication, (4) division, (5) addition, (6) subtraction. (Not to be confused with My very educated mother just served us nine pizzas, to remember the then-nine planets in the Solar System).

At least in math, people agree on the correct order in which problems should be tackled. Alas, there is no such uniformity in the law. You would think that a complaint must survive a predictable gauntlet: (1) jurisdiction, (2) prudential doctrines, (3) merits questions, (4) remedies, etc. But the Supreme Court has routinely authorized courts to consider issues out of order. For example, under the Ruhrgas/Sinochem doctrine any “nonmerits threshold question[s]” may warrant “dismissal short of reaching the merits.”

For example, let’s say a case presents a thorny jurisdictional question, but the Plaintiff is outside the “zone of interests.” Here, the court can basically assume jurisdiction, but toss the case on a non-jurisdictional ground. Or perhaps the Plaintiff seeks an injunction against the federal government that is barred by the doctrine of sovereign immunity. In such a case, the court may simply skip over the difficult merits question, and toss the case because the remedy is not permissible. And so on.

California v. Texas may fall into this topsy-turvy framework. Before the case is argued, parties put forward their best arguments about the case, in sequential fashion: (1) do the plaintiffs have standing, (2) do the plaintiffs prevail on the merits, (3) do the plaintiffs prevail on severability. But ultimately, the Court may simply skip steps 1 and 2, and jump to 3. I flagged this possibility, which co-blogger Steve Sachs wrote about.

In short, the Court can assume there is jurisdiction, assume the mandate is unconstitutional, but find that the mandate is severable from the ACA. This outcome would avoid resolving the (in my mind) difficult jurisdictional issues, and avoid having to settle precise holding of NFIB. This is the sort of outcome that the Chief Justice would love. But are there four votes to support this avoidance principle?

Imagine this breakdown:

Four Justices hold that one or more Plaintiffs have standing; the other five do not address standing. Five Justices hold that the mandate is unconstitutional; the other four do not address the merits. Six Justices hold that the mandate is severable from the ACA. One Justice holds that the mandate is not severable from Guaranteed Issue and Community Rating. And two Justices hold that the remedy should be limited to address the plaintiffs’ injuries (along the line suggested in the Cato amicus brief).

I’ve learned one important lesson from following the ACA litigation for a decade: always prepare to be surprised.

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No, Trump Did Not Concede the Election (Even Briefly)

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A Sunday morning tweet by President Donald Trump set off a flurry of misleading reports suggesting he had finally admitted that he lost his bid for reelection. “Trump says for the first time Biden won the election,” CNN said. “Trump says Biden won,” BBC News announced. “Referring to Mr. Biden, the president said that ‘he won,'” The New York Times reported. “That represented the first time Mr. Trump had publicly said what his advisers have been telling him for days privately: His re-election bid failed and Mr. Biden will be inaugurated on Jan. 20.”

But what Trump actually said was perfectly consistent with what he has been saying since Election Day: “He won because the Election was Rigged.” In other words, Biden did not really win; it looks that way only because of a massive fraud that deprived Trump of his rightful victory. The president added: “NO VOTE WATCHERS OR OBSERVERS allowed, vote tabulated by a Radical Left privately owned company, Dominion, with a bad reputation & bum equipment that couldn’t even qualify for Texas (which I won by a lot!), the Fake & Silent Media, & more!”

Later on Sunday morning, presumably after seeing how that tweet was being portrayed, Trump posted this clarification: “He only won in the eyes of the FAKE NEWS MEDIA. I concede NOTHING! We have a long way to go. This was a RIGGED ELECTION!”

Although the Times described that follow-up tweet as a “flip-flop,” it was nothing of the sort. Trump continues to maintain that Republican observers were barred from count rooms (which is not true) and that election software produced by Dominion Voting Systems deleted votes for him (which is not true either). And although he lately has eschewed the word fraud, instead insisting that the election was “RIGGED,” the implication is the same: Biden supporters across the country conspired to change vote tallies so it would look like the former vice president won. This scheme allegedly involved hundreds of thousands of votes—enough to erase Trump’s initial leads and allow Biden to claim electoral votes in battleground states such as Pennsylvania, Michigan, and Arizona.

Although post-election lawsuits filed by Republicans do not come close to substantiating this conspiracy theory, that is what Trump claims to believe. Does he really believe it?

“He knows it’s over,” an unnamed “adviser” told Times reporter Maggie Haberman last week. Haberman summed up the accounts of “a half-dozen advisers and people close to the president” this way:

Instead of conceding, they said, he is floating one improbable scenario after another for staying in office while he contemplates his uncertain post-presidency future.

There is no grand strategy at play…Mr. Trump is simply trying to survive from one news cycle to the next, seeing how far he can push his case against his defeat and ensure the continued support of his Republican base. By dominating the story of his exit from the White House, he hopes to keep his millions of supporters energized and engaged for whatever comes next.

But according to the same article, “the president has insisted to aides that he really defeated Joseph R. Biden Jr. on Nov. 3,” although “it is unclear whether he actually believes it.” Haberman notes that “instead of conducting discreet requests for recounts, Mr. Trump has made a series of spurious claims, seizing on conspiracies fanned on the internet.”

Given his long history of self-flattering delusions, I am inclined to take the president at his word: He sincerely thinks the election was stolen, because believing otherwise would mean he qualifies for the epithet he routinely hurls at his opponents. The question is how much longer Republicans will continue to aid and abet his ego-salving fantasy.

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Some Thoughts on the Avenatti v. Fox News Libel Lawsuit

Michael Avenatti sued Fox News and various Fox News personalities Thursday for libel, stemming from Fox’s coverage of Avenatti’s Nov. 2018 arrest for domestic violence. Much of the Complaint consists of general condemnations of Fox News, but on p. 23 the Complaint finally comes to the particular allegations about how Fox had supposedly defamed Avenatti in particular. (Ken White [Popehat] has more.) Here are some quick thoughts on why the lawsuit is likely going nowhere.

[1.] Substantial truth: The problem Avenatti is facing is that he was indeed (according to the LAPD) arrested, so Fox News is entitled to report on this arrest, booked, and released on bail. A week later the woman involved (Mareli Miniutti) got a restraining order against Avenatti, based in part on allegations of violence, so that suggests that there was at least reason to believe that Avenatti was more likely than not guilty. (The standard of proof required for a restraining order is preponderance of the evidence; for arrest, it is probable cause.) But in any event, Fox News was entitled to report on the arrest even if the allegations leading to the arrest had proved unfounded.

Avenatti’s points out that some of the Fox News accounts (a) said he was arrested for violence against “his estranged wife” (Miniutti was a girlfriend), ¶ 105, (b) said that he had been not only arrested, but also “charged” (prosecutors ultimately declined to charge him), ¶ 78, (c) said that “her face was swollen and bruised,” ¶¶ 81, 105, and (d) said that Avenatti had shouted at the time, “She hit me first!,” ¶ 105.

But modern libel law embraces the “substantial truth” doctrine, under which “[m]inor inaccuracies do not amount to falsity so long as ‘the substance, the gist, the sting, of the libelous charge be justified.'” If the statement with the errors corrected would still carry the same reputation-injuring message, the errors aren’t treated as defamatory: “The substantial truth test involves consideration of whether the alleged defamatory statement was more damaging to the plaintiff’s reputation in the mind of the average listener than a truthful statement would have been.” The error in identifying the alleged victim, for instance, would pretty clearly count as insubstantial.

I think the references to “charges” is likewise nondefamatory. First, simply saying that he was “arrested in L.A.; charged with assault” is a fair summary of the arrest; it’s common to say that someone was “arrested on charges of …” even when no charges in the sense of an indictment or criminal complaint was filed. But even the statements that erroneously said the D.A.’s office was involved are likely don’t change the gist of the allegation. The average viewer is likely to treat an arrest for domestic violence as roughly comparable in its sting to a prosecution for domestic violence. (Both, after all, require just probable cause, and don’t involve a jury finding or proof beyond a reasonable doubt.)

[2.] Actual malice: Now the claims that the alleged victim had a swollen or bruised face might have a worse sting than just the fact of the arrest, because it suggested that Avenatti had indeed seriously injured Minutti. Likewise, the claim that Avenatti had shouted “She hit me first!,” might have a worse sting as well, because it suggested that Avenatti had admitted that he had hit her.

But here it appears that TMZ had reported this (citing its “law enforcement sources”), and Fox picked up the story from there. Because Avenatti was already a public figure at the time, he can’t recover for such errors (if they are errors) unless he shows what the law calls “actual malice,” which really means that Fox knew the allegations were false or likely false. And I doubt this is so; whether or not it was reasonable for Fox to rely on the TMZ’s account (which might have been part of the inquiry if Avenatti had been a mere private figure), I don’t think that such reliance—even coupled with some Fox personalities’ dislike of Avenatti—qualifies as knowledge that the allegations were false or likely false.

[3.] Statute of limitations: But beyond this, Avenatti probably won’t even get to any of this because the publications were in Nov. 2018, and under both the law of California (where Avenatti lives) and New York (where Fox News broadcasts from) defamation claims must be brought within one year of publication.

It’s true that in Delaware, where the lawsuit was filed, the statute of limitations for libel is usually two years. But that’s for defamation cases to which Delaware law applies; in some cases, Delaware courts apply out of state law, following the Restatement (Second) of Conflicts of Law. Under the Restatement (§ 150),

(1) The rights and liabilities that arise from defamatory matter in any … broadcast … are determined by the local law of the state which … has the most significant relationship to the occurrence and the parties ….

(2) When a natural person claims that he has been defamed by an aggregate communication, the state of most significant relationship will usually be the state where the person was domiciled at the time, if the matter complained of was published in that state.

So California law will likely apply, since I believe Avenatti was domiciled in California in 2018; and the runner-up candidate would be New York (not Delaware). And, as I said, the California and New York statutes of limitations preclude his claims.

[4.] Libel-proof plaintiff? The first paragraph of the Complaint’s discussion of the allegedly libelous statements says,

At the time of this arrest, Mr. Avenatti was 48 years old and had never been previously arrested in his life for any reason, even as a juvenile. He had never been charged with any crime and he had no criminal record.

The “had never been” are, of course, the “past perfect,” which indicates what was true as of a particular past time (here, 2018). Of course, we wouldn’t say he “has never been charged with any crime” (the present perfect), because as of now Avenatti has been famously charged with “perjury, fraud, failure to pay taxes and other financial crimes” and convicted of attempted extortion and fraud.

Do Avenatti’s felony convictions make him a “libel-proof plaintiff” (as in the recent Lenny Dykstra case)? It’s not clear whether California would recognize the “libel-proof plaintiff” doctrine; but in any event, in most of its formulations the doctrine asserts that “a plaintiff’s reputation with respect to a specific subject may be so badly tarnished that he cannot be further injured by allegedly false statements on that subject” (emphasis added). In then-Judge Scalia’s words (the opinion was later reversed, but on quite unrelated grounds), any broader version of this theory,

must be rejected because it rests upon the assumption that one’s reputation is a monolith, which stands or falls in its entirety. The law, however, proceeds upon the optimistic premise that there is a little bit of good in all of us—or perhaps upon the pessimistic assumption that no matter how bad someone is, he can always be worse.

It is shameful that Benedict Arnold was a traitor; but he was not a shoplifter to boot, and one should not have been able to make that charge while knowing its falsity with impunity…. Even the public outcast’s remaining good reputation, limited in scope though it may be, is not inconsequential. (“He was a liar and a thief, but for all that he was a good family man.”)

Here, Avenatti’s reputation for honesty and law-abidingness has by now doubtless been destroyed by his criminal convictions. But that is not the same “specific subject” as the abuse allegations; and indeed some people in some contexts (perhaps social or romantic) may forgive a person’s financial improprieties or even (nonviolent) extortion, but not his having allegedly badly beaten a girlfriend. And while some courts do suggest that “habitual criminal[s]” might be libel-proof as to any subject, that is likely applicable only to those who “possess a life-long record of criminal conduct,” which Avenatti did not (even taking into account the likely hyperbole of the “life-long record” requirement).

Moreover, returning to the past perfect point, for at least the few months between November 2018 and his financial crimes indictment, Avenatti’s reputation had not yet been damaged by those accusations. During that time, he wasn’t “libel-proof” under even a broader formulation of the doctrine, and his reputation may well have been injured.

So Avenatti seems likely to lose: most clearly, I think, under the statute of limitations, and

[5.] Anti-SLAPP statute: There’s also a question of how much Avenatti will lose—will he just lose the case, or will he also have to pay the defendants’ attorney fees? That too depends on which state’s law applies: There’s a good argument that California’s should apply, in which case Avenatti would indeed be on the hook for fees, if he loses, and will face an early anti-SLAPP motion. But if the Delaware court disagrees, and chooses to apply Delaware’s anti-SLAPP statute, then fees and an early motion to strike won’t be available, since Delaware’s statute only covers disputes related to applications for public permits, zoning changes, and the like.

Thanks to Floyd Abrams, Lyrissa Lidsky, and Ken White for their guidance on specific matters that I touch on above.

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Presidential Pardons Offer Trump a Way to Go Out on a Positive Note

Despite much posturing by President Donald Trump and his supporters, it’s increasingly likely that Joe Biden will be sworn in as the 46th president of the United States. In response, Republicans seem bent on petty vengeance in the form of non-cooperation with the new administration’s transition team—an empty gesture that ruffles feathers while accomplishing nothing. But if the outgoing chief executive wants to leave office in a way that has a lasting impact (and yes, that will likely get under the new guy’s skin) he can do so and benefit the country by using the presidential pardon power.

Article II, Section 2 of the United States Constitution specifies that the president “shall have Power to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offences against the United States, except in Cases of Impeachment.” According to the U.S. Supreme Court, in Ex Parte Garland (1866), “with that exception the power is unlimited. It extends to every offence, and is intended to relieve the party who may have committed it or who may be charged with its commission, from all the punishments of every description that the law, at the time of the pardon, imposes.”

The power can even be wielded preemptively, such as when President Gerald Ford pardoned his predecessor, Richard M. Nixon, for any crimes he may have committed.

Pardons, then, are powerful tools for offering relief to people who got on the wrong side of government officials. Such people include high-profile whistleblower Edward Snowden, who revealed U.S. government surveillance of its own population and the world beyond and was personally targeted by Joe Biden when he was vice president in the Obama administration.

“Every time one of these governments got close to opening their doors, the phone would ring in their foreign ministries and on the other end of the line would be a very senior American official,” Edward Snowden told MSNBC in 2019 about the fate of his applications for asylum in multiple countries. “It was one of two people. Then-Secretary of State John Kerry or then-Vice President Joe Biden.”

Snowden went on to paraphrase the resulting conversations: “But if you protect this man, if you let this guy out of Russia, there will be consequences. We’re not going to say what they’re going to be, but there will be a response.”

In 2013, Ecuador’s then-President Rafael Correa confirmed that Biden leaned on him to deny asylum to Snowden.

Given that Snowden provided an important service to the world and that, despite once calling for his execution, Trump seems to have warmed to the whistleblower, pardoning him should be a no-brainer.

Another candidate for official mercy is Julian Assange, the digital journalist and WikiLeaks founder, who worked with Chelsea Manning to reveal bloody U.S. military missteps. He took refuge in Ecuador’s London embassy while Sweden pursued sexual assault charges that were eventually dropped.

In 2016, WikiLeaks published embarrassing Democratic National Convention emails in a likely slap at the Obama administration that had targeted Assange.

There’s been speculation that Biden might go easier on Assange, but that seems a stretch, given the emails and the then-veep’s description of the journalist as “a high-tech terrorist.” President Trump himself has never really taken to Assange, even though he arguably benefited from the DNC leak. But pardoning Assange would be a win for press freedom and a slap at the intelligence community with whom he has sparred.

Of course, if you’re going to pardon Julian Assange, that calls for similar consideration for Manning, who did the heavy lifting in terms of sourcing military documents and diplomatic cables that were then published by WikiLeaks. She went to prison for her actions, and then was jailed again for refusing to testify about WikiLeaks.

Manning’s sentence was commuted by then-President Obama at the end of his second term. But she still lives with a conviction and the resulting restrictions on her activities. While Trump has been harshly critical of Manning, this would be another opportunity to simultaneously do the right thing and needle the intelligence community.

While we’re talking about whistleblowers, let’s add Reality Winner to the mix. In 2017, she passed an NSA report about Russian attempts to fiddle with American voting software to The Intercept. Winner was arrested when the publication screwed up basic security precautions, revealing her identity.

Admittedly, this case is a tougher sell, since it happened on Trump’s watch, and the soon-to-be-former president isn’t known for his forgiving nature. It also involves a sore spot for him in the form of foreign election interference. But, even so, a pardon for Winner would be a sharp jab at the alphabet agencies.

On a different note is the case of Ross Ulbricht. He was convicted in 2015 of a variety of charges that all boil down to, in the guise of “the Dread Pirate Roberts,” operating Silk Road, a darknet marketplace for the buying and selling of intoxicants disapproved by the powers-that-be. Two federal agents on his case were also convicted—of extortion and of stealing from Silk Road.

Ulbricht’s case is near and dear to Reason writers because of the consensual nature of his “crimes,” but also because the prosecutor in his case—Preet Bharara—later went after this publication and its readers. In 2017, Bharara picked a fight with the Trump administration and was fired from his position as a U.S. Attorney for his troubles. Pardoning Ulbricht might not yet be on Donald Trump’s radar despite his supporters’ best efforts, but it would be an impressive way to close this chapter while also doing the right thing by a guy who did no wrong.

But let’s not rest all of our hope on the man who’s leaving the White House. If Trump doesn’t want to exercise his power of mercy on behalf of the people mentioned above—and so many other deserving victims of the carceral state—for whatever reason, perhaps his replacement might give it some thought.

Pardoning Snowden, Assange, Manning, Winner, Ulbricht, and many others who have run afoul of the criminal justice system would be an effective means for Joe Biden to rebrand a government that has gained a well-deserved reputation for brutality under officials of both major political parties. Given that he has a personal history with some of these individuals, it would also demonstrate a rare quality of forgiveness in an elected official.

Presidential pardons have been exercised over the years for a variety of reasons good, bad, and indifferent. If using that power now can bring about some justice and respect liberty, we shouldn’t care too much about the motives.

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Indiana Judges Disagree: Should Targets of Protective Orders Be Pseudonymous?

From Judge Ezra Friedlander’s opinion, joined by Judge Paul Mathias, in R.W. v. J.W., decided by the Indiana Court of Appeals Friday:

R.W. appeals from the entry of a permanent protective order against him, contending that the trial court erred by denying his motion to dismiss the petition for an order of protection filed by J.W., a woman with whom he was in a romantic relationship, and by finding that there was sufficient evidence to support the legal conclusion to issue the order. We affirm….

To sum up the evidence before the trial court and in the words of the trial court, “[s]ome time between August 10th and September 11th the matter blew up and all of the parties involved, [K.B.], [R.W.] and [J.W.] were saying nasty things to each other, back and forth imploring the other to leave them alone.” [K.B. was an acquaintance of J.W., and an ex-girlfriend of R.W.] The evidence and inferences therefrom supporting the issuance of the protective order in favor of J.W. was that K.B. was with R.W. after his relationship with J.W. soured. When they were together, R.W. had shared with J.W. his plans to send the video of a nude K.B. to the man she was then dating. A part of the plan involved creating a new account on social media through which to reach that man at work. J.W. counseled against R.W.’s plan.

R.W. left a threatening voicemail for J.W., which made J.W. feel threatened and terrified. R.W. made several attempts by various means to contact J.W.’s husband. During a period of time where K.B. was with R.W. in Chicago, she [presumably K.B.-EV] downloaded semi-nude and nude pictures of J.W. from R.W.’s password-protected phone. She then sent them to J.W. and R.W. with her own disparaging commentary about what was depicted, further adding commentary purported to be from B.O. {a man … with whom J.W. had previously had a sexual relationship}.

R.W. contacted J.W. to inform her that “somehow” K.B. had come into possession of those photographs. He did nothing to stop any action by K.B. despite this awareness. K.B. feigned sympathy for J.W., adding that she did not want those photographs to come into the hands of J.W.’s four young sons or husband or be disseminated to her children’s school and through the City of Valparaiso even though “someone” had told her that those actions were a possibility.

Just prior to the hearing set for the Illinois protective order, J.W. discovered that a Bumble account had been created with her email address containing pictures of her, one of which she had only sent to R.W. and the other of which had to be taken down from the account. The words used in that account to describe J.W. bore a striking similarity to the language used by K.B. when discussing her theory that J.W. had herpes and that her behavior was trashy or tramp-like.

At the hearing on J.W.’s protective order request, R.W. refused to answer 32 separate questions pertaining mostly to how K.B. came into possession of the pictures of J.W. that were meant only for R.W. and the creation and existence of the Bumble account, citing his Fifth Amendment privilege against self-incrimination. “Although the refusal to testify in a civil case cannot be used against the one asserting the privilege in a subsequent criminal proceeding, the privilege against self-incrimination does not prohibit the trier of fact in a civil case from drawing adverse inferences from a witness'[s] refusal to testify.”

The trial court correctly found from the evidence and the inferences from the evidence that “there is no evidence that R.W. tried to stop or block [K.B.’s] harassment or stalking behavior utilizing or threatening to use the photos against [J.W.],” and correctly concluded that “like [K.B.], [R.W.] was engaged in bringing harassment to bear on [J.W.]” There was more than sufficient evidence to support the trial court’s findings of fact which, in turn, support the conclusions of law in favor of granting J.W.’s petition for a permanent protective order against R.W….

And here’s Judge Terry Crone’s concurrence:

I agree with the affirmance of the protective order against Rafer Weigel, but I write separately because I respectfully disagree with my colleagues’ decision to refer to Weigel by his initials instead of his name.

No statute, court rule, or court policy entitles Weigel to anonymity. In fact, pursuant to the Rules on Access to Court Records adopted by the Indiana Supreme Court, Weigel’s name is presumptively accessible to the public. See Ind. Access to Court Records Rule 4(A) (“A Court Record is accessible to the public except as provided in Rule 5.”). Some of the stated purposes of those rules are to “[c]ontribute to public safety” and “[p]romote governmental accountability and transparency[.]”These overlap with the stated purposes of the Civil Protection Order Act, which was enacted by the Indiana General Assembly “to promote the: (1) protection and safety of all victims of domestic or family violence in a fair, prompt, and effective manner; (2) protection and safety of all victims of harassment in a fair, prompt, and effective manner; and (3) prevention of future domestic violence, family violence, and harassment.”

As described in lurid detail above, Weigel threatened and publicly humiliated J.W., who sought and obtained a protective order against him. Weigel has challenged the sufficiency of the evidence supporting that order. If we had ruled in his favor, he could have petitioned to expunge all records relating to the protective order pursuant to Indiana Code Chapter 34-26-7.5. But since we have affirmed the trial court’s determination that Weigel harassed J.W., I can think of no principled reason why this Court should shield his identity from the public.

Indeed, naming the perpetrator of such depraved acts could only contribute to public safety, promote governmental transparency and accountability (by this Court and by any law enforcement agency that might have occasion to enforce the protective order, respectively), and prevent future harassment of J.W. and others….

For a media account of the underlying scandal, see the Chicago Tribune (Sophie Sherry); Weigel had been a Chicago TV news anchor.

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Into the Dugout

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Bouton: The Life of a Baseball Original, by Mitchell Nathanson, University of Nebraska Press, 409 pages, $34.95

The best book ever written about baseball is Ball Four, Jim Bouton’s irreverent look at the 1969 baseball season. Over the course of the year, Bouton bounced from the New York Yankees, his club of seven seasons, to the minor leagues to the short-lived Seattle Pilots to the Houston Astros, trying to hang on as a big-league pitcher several years past his prime. Edited by sportswriter Leonard Shecter and published in 1970, Ball Four is a work of genuine iconoclasm, the first widely read account of life in the Major Leagues that was not written in hushed tones.

By the time Bouton’s book was released, Major League Baseball had spent decades as the grand dame of American professional sports. Perhaps no aspect of American life was written about as reverentially as the “national pastime,” a term that the sport’s thoroughly sentimental partisans had been using to describe it since the Buchanan administration. The elevation of baseball stars to the simultaneous status of celebrity and role model became particularly pronounced during the 1920s, when sportswriters like Grantland Rice and future baseball commissioner Ford Frick turned Babe Ruth into a cultural icon of virtually unprecedented stature. The baseball heroes of subsequent generations were cast in a similar guise, presented in all forms of media as figures of towering cultural significance and characteristic of all that was good in American life.

Bouton’s book was radically different—a sports book for an era when institutions of all kinds were coming under skeptical scrutiny. Instead of a familiar, cloying I’m-getting-paid-to-play-a-kid’s-game narrative, Bouton discussed his contract disputes and his desire to get paid his market value. Writing in diary form, he spoke out of school on professional athletes’ everyday lives, dishing on their petty jealousies, lecherousness, boozing, and use of amphetamines to make it through the 162-game grind. Despite the late 1960s’ reputation for cultural radicalism, Bouton showed that the spirit of the times had yet to reach Major League Baseball. He criticized the groupthink he found in baseball locker rooms, deriding his teammates’ lack of interest in cultural and political matters—and their acquiescence to team-owner paternalism by refusing to push for better pay or for more control over the conditions of their employment.

Needless to say, Major League Baseball was not pleased with Bouton’s presentation of the game. Commissioner Bowie Kuhn went so far as to try to get Bouton to sign a document that said his book was a work of fiction. Bouton refused. But even if he had signed, the cat would have been out of the bag.

The behind-the-scenes sportswriting that Bouton pioneered has been copied thousands of times over the past five decades, by journalists, by documentarians, by Bouton’s fellow memoirists. Just recently, the picaresque Chicago Bulls documentary series The Last Dance adopts a beyond-the-box-score tone that would have been unimaginable before Ball Four. Athletes who have used the various social media platforms to express their views on a wide range of issues are working in a tradition that Bouton pioneered.

By the time I spoke with the Ball Four author in 2009—he was the first person I ever interviewed—I was intimidated by his legend, having transformed him in my head into a ball-playing Hunter S. Thompson. But he was generous with his time and couldn’t have been more gracious to a young writer. He spoke frankly with me about steroids in baseball, taxpayer financing of stadiums, and athletes’ interactions with the press.

The forthrightness that came across in that conversation is evident in Mitchell Nathanson’s account of the Ball Four author’s life. Nathanson is a law professor at Villanova who has written several baseball histories, and Bouton: The Life of a Baseball Original is one of the best baseball biographies in recent memory. Nathanson is a fantastic storyteller, capable of juxtaposing Bouton’s recollections with those of his contemporaries and situating these stories within their historical context. While researching the book, he spent a significant amount of time with Bouton in the final years of his life (Bouton died in 2019), which contributes to the depth with which he renders his subject.

The Bouton that Nathanson evokes is equal parts traditional and subversive. Bouton challenged the status quo of the “national pastime,” unmooring the men who made their living in baseball from the mythology of the game. He brought athletes down from Mount Olympus and showed them to be people, deeply flawed and deeply funny, worthy of informed admiration rather than thoughtless worship. Bouton embraced and was embraced by the era’s counterculture, becoming an exemplar of the liberated, socially conscious athlete amid what sports reporter Howard Cosell called the “jockocracy.”

But at the same time, he was a throwback: an old-fashioned hustler, part showman and part entrepreneur. After being blackballed from the Major Leagues, Bouton found many ways to parlay his notoriety and smarts into a lucrative post-baseball career. He worked as a sportscaster in New York and appeared in several films. He proved a shrewd investor in real estate and became genuinely wealthy as one of the inventors of Big League Chew gum. All the while, Bouton was engineering a multiyear baseball comeback as a knuckleball pitcher, which culminated in a five-game return to the majors in 1978 for the Atlanta Braves. Bouton’s best product proved to be the brand he created with Ball Four.

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El Paso County Tighter Shutdown Order Preempted by Texas Governor’s Order

So the Texas Court of Appeals held yesterday, in State v. El Paso County (opinion by Chief Justice Jeff Alley, joined by Justice Gina Palafox); an excerpt:

If the disaster de jure [I assume the court meant “du jour”-EV] was a hurricane on the gulf coast, there would have to be a tie-breaker if the governor intended for people to evacuate in one direction but a local county judge thought it better to send people in the exact opposite direction. Pick whatever type of disaster you might—from toxic chemical releases, earthquakes, oil pipelines leaks, to pandemics—and there could be good faith differences of opinion on the proper response.

Because there must be a final decision-maker, the Legislature inserted a tie breaker and gave it to the governor in that his or her declarations under Section 418.012 have the force of law. El Paso County can point to no similar power accorded to county judges. And while it is not for us to judge the wisdom of the Legislature’s choice, the idea of one captain of the ship has intuitive appeal. Did the Legislature really intend for the chaos of a system that allows for 254 different county responses to a statewide disaster? It certainly allowed county judges [the Texas term for the county executive-EV] to lead local disasters, but that is not what Texas is facing.

And here’s an excerpt from Justice Yvonne Rodriguez’s dissent:

In my view, the Governor has taken a law that was meant to help him assist local authorities by sweeping away bureaucratic obstacles in Austin, and used it in reverse to treat local authorities as a bureaucratic obstacle to the coronavirus response plan he has chosen from Austin. This is truly extraordinary and completely flips the structure of the Texas Disaster Act on its head….

The Attorney General maintains, in times of emergency, the Governor is the ultimate decision-maker, that he is a unitary executive with power over all levels of government, that he alone may decide the fates of people in 254 counties and 12,000 cities, that local elected leaders may act only because he gives them the authority, and he can take away that authority if he believes their approach as to how they address disaster relief is, in his view, wrong. The only way any of that can be true is if courts ignore critical Texas constitutional history, disregard the structure and purpose of the Texas Disaster Act, read words into a statute that are simply not there, and discard important restrictions and qualifications on the Governor’s power in the name of expediency and a belief that his noble ends justify its unlawful means

I can’t speak to who’s right here, but I thought I’d flag the opinions for our readers.

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