John Clark Pro Se Blog

I am frequently contacted by pro se (aka pro per) would-be litigants, asking for advice. Of course, I tell them I am not an attorney and cannot give advice. That market is cornered by licensed attorneys. However, there are numerous "self-help" sites, claiming that if you get the procedures right, you'll be fighting your opponent in court on a level playing field.  That promise is a cruel joke.

The pro se goes to court thinking that the judge will act as a sort of umpire, or referee.  A session in chambers might even settle differences, but the pro se is never invited into the judge's inner sanctuary, while an attorney is.  Court rules only, and you'd better know what you're doing.  The pro se is put under oath, and the opposing attorney is not (in fact, the client may not even be there.)  And if the smart attorney opposite you sneaks in a few hearsay comments on behalf of the non-appearing client, it's assumed by new-comers that the judge will call a foul.  But it doesn't work that way, and if brought to the attention of the court of appeal by way of a writ, it will be ignored. And so the outraged pro se seeks to have the judge replaced, and the same judge looks at the motion and denies it.

The system as it is set up gives judges huge leeway, and one might be forgiven for thinking that there are 2 groups, one consisting of "good, fair-minded" judges, and the other of "bad, corrupt" judges. I have come to believe that they are all the same. If a visionary judge sets out on the path of true justice, it won't be long before the temptations strewn about the office overcome any chance of their continuing on that path. Money is the goal and sole objective, quietly distributed among associated disciplines, and taking place under a cloak of immunity. And what kind of a deal is THAT?

It is my belief that the U.S. system, especially as it applies to Family Court and Probate Court, needs to be fundamentally reformed.  As it now exists, it is open to charges of corruption, even to the point of bearing signs of a RICO ("if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck..." well, you know)  And if you think that any D.A. in the country is going to investigate,  think again.

I now bring you the following dissertation on the subject, and it should be read thoroughly from beginning to end, because it makes its points and provides authorities in a sound and reasonable manner.  It deals with the real world as it is, not the virtual world of our Constitution, which is studiously ignored all the time. It's headed "bad judges", but I think the word "bad" should be removed. And suggestions on improving the judicial appointments system are made.

My site stands for REFORM, and is intended to get people thinking. There's a groundswell of unhappy self-represented near bankrupt litigants, and it is time for them to get out of their chairs, and as Howard Beale said in the movie Network "I'M MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO TAKE THIS ANY MORE!"

This will link you to the article here.  Read it and be stunned. And let me hear from you.

January 20, 2010.

I wonder if this is part of Delta pilot training? Is this on a simulator?

Poor old Capt. Benjy, having to struggle with the responsibilty of keeping his sister's, my youngest daughter's, marriage to a Cuban-American (fine with me, by the way) last August 1st. secret from her father.

Swearing the entire family members and their friends to secrecy while dancing at Liam Neeson's farm upstate NY (disguised as "Dance Party of the Century".)  Well, Facebook and the attraction of marriage gift-lists, and the internet, means that those things don't stay secret for very long.  Meanwhile, I'd like to think that Annabel might have liked to have had her father present to proudly give her away. Guess not.  Too bad for both of us, she'll discover in time.  Meanwhile, for the benefit of passengers, we need to understand that Captains' minds are sometimes in the cockpit of their home lives, but not in the left seat.

MD-80 CHECKLIST, arrival:

TAXI
1. Auto brakes....................................................OFF
2. Spoilers.........................................................RETRD
3. Radar...........................................................OFF
4. Wing heaters...................................................SET
5. Ignition..........................................................OFF
6. Check list completed to apron
7. APU.............................................................AS REQD
8. Flaps & slats....................................................UP & RETRD
9. Checklist completed
PARKING
1. Parking brakes...............................................ON & CHKD
2. Seat belts switch.............................................OFF
3. Ice protection................................................OFF
4. Fuel pumps...................................................SET
5. IRS............................................................SET
6. Anti-collision light...........................................OFF
7. Peneumatic crossfeed.......................................OPEN
8. Air conditioning..............................................SET
9. Lights.........................................................AS REQD
10. Hydraulic pumps...........................................SET
11. Engine oil quantity.........................................CHKD
12. Aircraft log/NOTOC........................................SIGNED/STORED
13. Fuelling info (as required).................................PERFORMED
14. Emergency light switch....................................OFF
15. Checklist completed
GOING HOME ON MOTORBIKE
1.  Eyes on road………………………………......…........…ON & CHKD
2.  Call Mom for orders……..……….....….....…...……AS REQD
3.  Call Step-Dad (Brandon Maggart) for advice...AS REQD
4.  Get orders from wife………….………………......….AS REQD
5.  Check Facebook………………........…….……..……..AS REQD
6.  Check Mom’s killer lawyer Emily Edelman....AS REQD
7.  Check leaks to Dad’s blog……….….……….....…..OPEN
8.  Re-check Facebook wedding pictures.….…….PENDING
9.  Check control of his grandchildren..….…..….WILLCO
10.  Say Hi to Liam………………………….........………..PENDING
11.  Mental logbook.......................................SIGNED/STORED
12.  ?!!%?/#%*&$$$?...(|:>(........................CALL AMBULANCE
 

Message to Lynn:

Hey Lynn,

I've been reading some of the terrific notices after your opening last night on Broadway.  I saw the play last year in L.A. but now I see that with the aid of your canny director (hi, Joe) you've added references to our 32 year marriage which, you now say, was for you filled with loneliness and lovelessness.  Linda Winer of Newsday says your tales of our marriage teeter uncomfortably close to revenge.

Why didn't you let me know? You misled me all along, it seems. I pulled out a book we put together a few years ago, This Is Living.  I wanted to check the dedication you surprised me with when it went to the publishers. It says "For John.  Who has opened my eyes to myself, has been a part of every good thing that has ever happened to me, and has loved me through fat and through thin."  So you lied? Now I feel uncomfortable, and wish you had saved me from your years of perdition.  I could have gone elsewhere, created my own career, and saved myself from being demonized and alienated by you and our children.

Well, carry on, anything for a successful show, and the critics DID spell my name right. We know that you have the performing talent to make the phone book sound interesting (there's an idea.) 

LATER

Vanity Fair has recorded a clip from your show. Reader fans may want to hear this.

Investigative reporter Lucy Komisar saw it. This is what she has to say about it, click here for her review.

You've made everyone aware Nightingale may be your swan song, and I don't want to rain on your parade (yet. My warehouse, which you stocked, is still full of good family memories, and all I need for my book which keeps me busy. Also my own solo show. which I may call Canary.)

Meanwhile, say hi to my kids for me, wish them a Happy Christmas, and treat yourselves to a read of A Christmas Carol.

It's my birthday today, which reminds me of another birthday, spent in jail. There was some interest from the press at the time, and I consented to be interviewed.

It was with the respected Los Angeles Times. What they did to me gives the best example of why the press is not to be trusted, if they have an agenda, which they usually do.  It set the tone for me up until the present time.  With Nightingale, Lynn Redgrave seeks to continue the spin. And she doesn't grant interviews, a normal process in the promotion of a play.  What the lawyers did, some might say was foster criminal fraud behavior, covered up by the courts and the L.A. Times.  So read this, and let's not hear any more of the nonsense in critics' reviews:

Somebody found this and recently put it on Utube, so thanks to them, here's some fun from a few years back. Just the first part of the program. I think this proves we had a pretty good marriage.

Tattletales

Excellent article in today's NY Times, about the difficulty of cramming other people's words into your brain, and making them come out as though you had just thought of them.

Learning lines

I never heard of having a prompter sitting in the first row, and mouthing your lines to you, as apparently Matthew Broderick has availed himself of in the opening performances of Starry Messenger. Or having a tiny speaker in your ear, as apparently Angela Lansbury did during her recent foray into Blithe Spirit.  She says that's to be expected if you're 84.  Poor Mr. Matt Mulhern just got himself fired from the Hartford Stage Company for pasting a few errant lines into his hat, and then referring to them out of dire necessity. Then there's my ex, who has thrown her hands in the air, and just reads the damn thing, in her discourse about her grandmother in Nightingale.

Me, I've always had terrible trouble learning lines. I started out as a BBC radio actor, and reading the script became the normal way to do it.  Even now, I scan the page into my head, and still read it. The scanning process takes a while. During my days of weekly rep, I was fast.  Now, a rate of an ASA of about 6, if I'm lucky.

There's the method approach. First get the character, next the thoughts, the feelings in sync. and the words will undoubtedly come. Maybe.  Maybe not the author's words, but perhaps something even better(?)

But there will always be blocks, words or phrases that refuse to jump into place.  Then trickery is used, links from pictures, initials, numbers, anything that works.

There are some freaks who are blessed with a magic brain, that remembers and hangs on to everything in a flash, no problem. And that's just not fair.

My email is working again. I'd like to hear from you. Need feedback.

John@johnclarkprose.com

My tennis days are over, thanks to Judge Arnold Gold. I often think of Jack Kramer, and miss his restrained BBC television commentary, before they banned him. He won Wimbledon in 1947, the first of two years I played there as a junior.

I built Topanga's only Kramer tennis court, a company run by his sons, with the faux grass surface, and electric lights for nightime playing.

I wonder if my fellow DGA director member, one Michael Katleman who somehow acquired my property at a depressed price immediately after 9/11, is enjoying it? I think so.  Last time I looked over my old neighbor's fence, he'd installed a basket ball hoop at the practice board end, and having family picnics on the "lawn". Strawberries and cream I hope. Of the net, no sign.

Most of us will remember exactly what we were doing on 9/11/2001. For me, I was safely out of it, living a quiet but lonely life in peaceful Topanga Canyon, California, in the home I created for me and my family 22 years before.  On that fateful morning, I had been watching, as I usually was, CNBC at 5:30 Pacific Coast Time, tuning in for a few hours stock market viewing (maybe as a trader). I was just in time to see the carnage caused by an airplane crashing into the North tower of the World Trade Center.  I switched over to CNN, and watched unbelievably as the second plane crashed into the South tower 15 minutes later.  Confusion reigned. Obviously no accident, but what was this? A few hours later, we had our answer.  Terrorists! Foreign terrorists, of course, from overseas, acting within our own borders.

My 2 sons and 1 daughter were living in New York City, and I hadn't heard from them for a while, and was worried.  Especially for Benjy. He was a co-pilot for Delta, flying East Coast runs. Was he in the air, about to get involved too?  Were they all OK?

I went to the phone, unable to raise anybody at that point, not even Lynn, by now my ex-wife.  Two days went by before I learned that my children were safe.  Of Lynn, no word, because I knew she was filming in London. 2 days later, I took breakfast at 8am, relieved and happy to hear that all three of my children were safe and sound back in Manhattan. A film crew had arrived that morning, about to film 4 pretty girls playing a doubles match on my tennis court.

They unloaded their gear. I would be paid $500 renting out my facilities for the day. The producer was relieved not to have to secure permits for the shoot.  Also, my home was just outside Los Angeles City limits, helpful for the fact that the girls would be cavorting on the court topless.

My gate phone rang. It was the police! The producer was having a coffee with me, and immediately sprang to her feet, ran outside, and gathered her cast and crew together for a fast scramble and getaway.

After a short pause I let the police in, first making sure that all shooting has ceased on the tennis court. I went outside to greet them, with a smile on my face. A short-lived smile as it turned out, when they informed me that they had come for me, and I had precisely 1 hour to pack my things before being escorted off my premises. Court order of Judge Arnold Gold. Time enough only to hitch my pickup truck to my trailer, charge the battery, and leave for destinations unknown.

Later that day, it was 9/13 remember, I returned to retrieve a few things, and particularly one of my cars (I had several). At my gate, I found out why my ex, Lynn Redgrave, had been unreachable. She was not in London.  She was in my driveway, shouting instructions to several hangers-on who were there to make sure I did not re-enter my premises, guided by phone instructions from her lawyer Emily Edelman. Thank God I had my camera. I would record the events as they happened, because otherwise nobody would believe it. I called the police.  And now, read my pictorial of what happened next in the category to the left entitled "MY EVICTION PICTURES."

Terrorists? Yes. From overseas? No. Just members of my family, supported by judges, lawyers, the press, and court-order enforcers (from the Malibu sheriff's office).

Spent the day before the long Labor Day weekend in traffic court. I had received in the mail a picture of me at an intersection at the wheel of my car, from the front and rear, showing the license plate number. There I was, stopped behind the line, as the light had turned red. Next picture was of me making a right hand turn, (from Sunset on to Cahuenga, which was permitted). This was witnessed, and the fine was $436, send it in by (date). The witness? 2, maybe 3, video cameras.

I spent half a day in the line down at the courthouse giving them a check, and a demand that I wanted to go to trial on this. I felt, and continue to feel strongly, that we do not (yet) live in a police state. If it's ok to put its citizens under surveillance, I'm not so sure I wish to continue to live here.