Still thinking of Antonin Scalia (link), I’m remembering Rodes K. Myers, late distinguished Kentucky lawyer, and his client, General Henry Denhardt, and Septmeber 21, 1937, the night before the scheduled second trial of Denhardt on a charge of murdering his ladyfriend, the widow Verna Garr Taylor. Both Denhardt and Taylor passed as dues-paying members of the Bluegrass Aristocracy in the Kentucky of their time (Myers was a bit more dodgy). Taylor was, by popular account “the most beautiful woman Henry and Oldham counties.”
Be that as it may, somebody put a bullet through her. It might have been suicide; it might have been Taylor: he was indicted for murder but a jury hung 7-5 in his favor at his first trial. Regrettably for Denhardt, Taylor had three brothers with a keen sense of their Second Amendment rights. The night before Denhardt’s second trial, Myers and Denhardt were walking back to their hotel. Myers remembers shouting:
“Lookout, General! There’s the Garr brothers!”
As Denhardt reached for the hotel door, seven shots rang out, striking Denhardt in the back and head. But it was Myers who is the focus of our particular attention here. For by all accounts, it was he who whirled around to face the Garr brothers and to remonstrate with the immortal phrase:
“Don’t shoot me, I’m a lawyer!”
The late George Hendon of Louisville, a cultivated and civilized lawyer with only a moderate taste for his own profession, wrote a priceless song with that as a chorus, which song, sadly, I cannot locate in my office or via Google.
Anyway, Scalia. As I said in an earlier post, I am impressed that he seems to think that keeping guns out of government offices is a good thing. Now, don’t misunderstand me here: I think keeping guns out of government offices is a very good thing, to be strongly encouraged and implemented by a wise government under law.
But as I argued before: I think a central premise of the gun rights movement must be that it is not a good thing. Why, exactly, do we need weapons, anyway? I don’t think even Scalia would argue for a constitutional right to murder our loved ones (though I’m with Mrs. Billy Graham on this one). The whole point is that for a citizenry without weapons, the government cannot be trusted—and so we have to be prepared to take the law into our own hands (if you think I’m defaming the gun rights crowd, try this Google search). Of course Scalia would feel better if he was certain that the lawyer (or the client—or come to think of it, the colleague) in his courtroom was not packing a piece. But for a strong-form Second-Amendment originalist, I should say that denying this right drops his argument into incoherence.
Sequel: One of the Garr brothers was put on trial for the murder. His lawyers didn’t deny the facts. One of them said: “It isn’t a shame that Kentuckians are quick on the draw. It’s an honor sometime.” After deliberating an hour and 15 minutes, the jury agreed, and acquitted the accused.
Source: Oddly enough, the Myers/Denhardt story is not widely represented on the web; here’s the only full account I can find. The song doesn’t seem to be there at all, but it is in my skull as I write.
Be that as it may, somebody put a bullet through her. It might have been suicide; it might have been Taylor: he was indicted for murder but a jury hung 7-5 in his favor at his first trial. Regrettably for Denhardt, Taylor had three brothers with a keen sense of their Second Amendment rights. The night before Denhardt’s second trial, Myers and Denhardt were walking back to their hotel. Myers remembers shouting:
“Lookout, General! There’s the Garr brothers!”
As Denhardt reached for the hotel door, seven shots rang out, striking Denhardt in the back and head. But it was Myers who is the focus of our particular attention here. For by all accounts, it was he who whirled around to face the Garr brothers and to remonstrate with the immortal phrase:
“Don’t shoot me, I’m a lawyer!”
The late George Hendon of Louisville, a cultivated and civilized lawyer with only a moderate taste for his own profession, wrote a priceless song with that as a chorus, which song, sadly, I cannot locate in my office or via Google.
Anyway, Scalia. As I said in an earlier post, I am impressed that he seems to think that keeping guns out of government offices is a good thing. Now, don’t misunderstand me here: I think keeping guns out of government offices is a very good thing, to be strongly encouraged and implemented by a wise government under law.
But as I argued before: I think a central premise of the gun rights movement must be that it is not a good thing. Why, exactly, do we need weapons, anyway? I don’t think even Scalia would argue for a constitutional right to murder our loved ones (though I’m with Mrs. Billy Graham on this one). The whole point is that for a citizenry without weapons, the government cannot be trusted—and so we have to be prepared to take the law into our own hands (if you think I’m defaming the gun rights crowd, try this Google search). Of course Scalia would feel better if he was certain that the lawyer (or the client—or come to think of it, the colleague) in his courtroom was not packing a piece. But for a strong-form Second-Amendment originalist, I should say that denying this right drops his argument into incoherence.
Sequel: One of the Garr brothers was put on trial for the murder. His lawyers didn’t deny the facts. One of them said: “It isn’t a shame that Kentuckians are quick on the draw. It’s an honor sometime.” After deliberating an hour and 15 minutes, the jury agreed, and acquitted the accused.
Source: Oddly enough, the Myers/Denhardt story is not widely represented on the web; here’s the only full account I can find. The song doesn’t seem to be there at all, but it is in my skull as I write.
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