John Clark Pro Se Blog

So, Chief Justice Ronald George is retiring next January.  Wants to spend more time "with his family" he says.  Also time for traveling, time to enjoy his retirement. Lucky him.

Let's have a look at where he will be leaving the system, the system of justice we have endured and continue to endure on his watch here in California.

Here.

And here.

And here.

And here.

And here.

We hope that our next chief justice will see it as his first priority to clean up the shocking performance record of Family Court and Probate judges (usually interchangeable), how they're elected, and how they operate under their current algorithms. He will have left an array of cases showing legal dysfunction at its worst.  Perhaps now he will have time to think about the legacy he left behind, and the new Keeper can learn from it.

Most of all, it's time to think about the pro ses and pro pers, who labor under a system that favors lying lawyers, and discourages the use of our courts by we the people, exercising our constitutional right to appear unrepresented in court, and insist on being treated with due respect and equality. Let judges act more like umpires applying the rules, and less like lawyers bending them.

So Roman Polanski goes free!  The sound you hear is the exhalation of breath echoing through the Halls of Hollywood.  A Swiss news agency released the following item:

Polanski was charged with giving drugs and alcohol to a 13-year-old girl before raping her at Jack Nicholson's Hollywood home in 1977.  According to Polanski, the teen had consented. He spent 42 days in prison undergoing psychiatric evaluation and then fled the country prior to sentencing.  He recently sought dismissal of his case on the grounds of misconduct by the now-deceased judge who had arranged a plea bargain and then reneged on it. Earlier this year the girl - now woman - involved also filed to have the charges dismissed.  At the time of Polanski's Zurich arrest, many criticised the fact that the case was being brought up so many years after the incident.  The Swiss Filmmakers Association described it as, "not only a grotesque farce of justice, but also an immense cultural scandal".

Justice Minister Widmer-Schlumpf then defended the arrest, saying: "It is the rule of law and everybody is treated the same way, whether it is an ordinary citizen or a famous personality."

It's worth recalling that Richard Fine, Esq. (same age, see below) challenged the Court, and DID NOT RUN. He trusted that due process would work.  (P.S. He's still in solitary, over one year later.)

(Spoiler - irony)  How DARE any country criticize the U.S. Justice system. We citizens TRUST it. It is PERFECT!

When you get to my age, a refresher covering most aspects of an active life in the Showbusiness is always a good idea.  Also, the nature of the current showbiz tends to get away from you.  With that in mind, I noticed a 1 week movie-making course being given just down the road from me, at the premises of Universal Studios (which brought back memories of the House Calls disaster).

The course, which cost $1,500, covered the latest advances in communication and supply of recorded entertainment to the masses - unlike live theatre, with which I have always been more comfortable back in New York.

The six day course was provided by the Hollywood branch of the New York Film Academy, in a surprisingly clean and modern office building, and bussed students to the nearby Universal lot, where we could shoot on their Western and European sets, or practice location work in Griffith Park.

Provided was the latest in video camera equipment (Panasonic), and editing software (Final Cut Pro). Things being what they are, these days, state-of-the-art changes take place almost every day.

The instructors are seasoned professionals, taking time out from their not busy enough creative schedules, to impart some of their special knowledge to people like me, and their acting students were happy enough to perform for my camera.  An aside here, I have too much respect for SAG and AFTRA and Equity members to expect them to work for nothing (sorry USC and UCLA student wannabe movie makers, and their elite schools who demand professional performer freebies, giving nothing in return.)

Day 1 the class of just 6 paired off, and then we met the instructors who introduced us to student actors we'd work with, and described the functions of the workshops and the safety hazards to avoid on set. We were also told to prepare a 2 or 3 minute story to be shot in about 20 shots, with a point of view, a beginning, and an end. Day 2 we were introduced to video cameras, their technical capabilities and how to operate them, and Day 3 was a discussion on screen-writing, with the necessity for story containing conflict and suspense, then a trip to Griffith Park just to test out the cameras. As a stills photographer more comfortable with 35mm film, I was told to just multiply the unfamiliar exposure settings of video by 7.2, to get recognizable results.  Day 4 we met the editor guy, who put post-production in its place, and showed how the editor could make or break a film. I didn't know that Walter Murch made Apocalypse Now into a movie out of a mess of a million shots. Murch believes in editing from a standing position, and asked to be left alone for many days in a dark quiet room, producing a masterpiece. Then we went out to the U. lot, on a very hot day of pure exhaustion. But it was worth it. And after, I slept well. Day 5 was spent editing what we shot, and trying to put muscle memory into the fingers in the dark in an attempt to operate the computer keys. And the final day, it was viewing the results, mutually criticizing the 6 movie clips, and taking home the DVD for further work (maybe.) Audio and special effects and lighting were deemed too complicated to tackle in a 1-week course. Agreed.

So my next thought is to buy a Canon digital camera to go with my FCP Studio package which I hadn't yet dared inspect. Thank you NY Film Academy and the instructors I met. I'm happy to promote all of it. A freebie from me.

Next I look forward once again to Digital Day at the Directors Guild headquarters at the end of July.  A chance to see the latest advances in digital cameras and to get inside the heads of famous directors and software makers.

But for now it's back to Wimbledon. 6' 9" John Isner, 68 all, final set, the Queen, what more could you want for unbearable suspense (unless it's U.S.A. v. England in the World Cup)?

I feel like the family has been in a cocoon for some years.

Now there has been a life-change, and I'm proud to reintroduce my kids that I had with Lynn:

Kelly is now PEMA CLARK, and emerges as a singer song-writer. With the band she has formed, SIREN, she has put out an album called VORTEX, with the help of my first son by actress Kay Hawtrey, Jonathan Hawtrey Clark, who produced the album.  He's a screen-writer who lives in Dublin.  Their website is called SEASONGMUSIC, and you can find her on YouTube.

ANNABEL CLARK is a successful photographer in New York.  Here's her website showing some of her beautiful pictures.

CAPT. BENJY CLARK. No, he did not follow his parents into the business, and he is NOT an actor on Pee-wee's Playhouse.  He is in fact Captain Ben Clark, flying East Coast short-haul for Delta.  He tells me he is back at the manuals, boning up on bigger equipment to go international. He has always yearned for bigger equipment. That's my Benjy.  Delta is a great company to work for, he tells me.

So, all-in-all, forgive me for boasting about my new-found family.

Some people, aka celebrities, are simple, brilliant, unsullied, and innocent souls.  They deserve to be left alone by the masses (aka us.)  Usually women, and who are we talking about?

Sandra Bullock comes to mind.  As does Barbara Walters, Betty White, Princess Di, Dame Judi Dench, Dame Helen Mirren, Angela Lansbury CBE, and Lynn Redgrave OBE. (the Brits with their intimidating honorifics know how to do this.)

Who, then, are these countless commenters who bestow their deathless pronouncements to protect their heroes at the end of any newsworthy story?  I believe they are fans, yes, but they think they are today's Greek Chorus, who were a body of people invented by the ancient Greeks to add their voices and give meaning to the onstage events of life's dramas. Note that the performers wore masks.

But THEIR voices are false. On the report of my attempted attendance at Lynn's funeral, a fusillade of comments appeared after the Daily Mail's report.  I repudiate their verdicts.

Having watched with a certain morbid fascination the fiasco of Sarah Ferguson's life, and her interview with wannabe prosecuting attorney Oprah Winfrey (Barbara Walters's usual turf, but she's OOA), I have this very American advice to give her:

Sue for performance of what was a contract, for the full amount of 500,000 pounds which translates to about 730,000 dollars, plus punitive damages for a variety of reasons. Attorneys will line up for the opportunity to represent Fergie, just for the exposure, or at worst on a contingency basis. This will get her off the hook financially, and avoid her impending bankruptcy.  British courts are lenient towards defendants in libel, slander and defamation cases, especially where it concerns Britain's gutter press. Or the suit could be pressed in a New York court, for the first meeting was in a NY hotel.

It is clear that a contract was made, and passes the meeting of the minds test. That the businessman was a reporter playing a role is his problem.  And there's money to be collected, the News of the World is very rich.

(As an aside, it's Interesting how Brits are willing to sit down and speak for themselves, while Americans such as Oprah will cover themselves with a thick layer of attorneys, and never, ever, speak up, except when forced to under oath in a courtroom because their lying attorneys failed in their usual ploy of keeping their client off the stand.  Does this make Americans better people?  I wonder.)

Well it was only a week, but what a week!  Miyuki needed to go there, and I had no intention to follow her. Quite happy thank you, staying home and in a familiar place. Old age gets to you that way.

But I changed my mind.  Surprise!  Facebook seems to be the best way to tell you about it.

Exhausted from trans-Pacific travel, but now it's back to work.

Ms. Ferguson, sorry, HRH Sarah Ferguson, sorry, Ms. Ferguson, took over from Lynn as the highly paid spokesperson for the product, after she had an introduction to the CEO of Heinz Foods, Irish kingpin Tony O'Reilly. He must have been seducted.

I wish I'd been a fly on the wall, better, a journalist for the News of the World, at that confab. It might have been very very interesting.

Here's one of Lynn's Weight Watcher commercials.  Here's another. Now THAT'S a classic!

Oh well, we did a book, THIS IS LIVING, right after.  And from that book, Lynn forged her first autobiographical story which we put on the stage, SHAKESPEARE FOR MY FATHER, and a new life as a playwright and solo performer was born.

So you see how the lemons to lemonade principle is applied.

Today, Mr. Kerik steps into the can for 4 years. He was Mayor Giuliani's police commissioner for a while, and much respected. If he'd only passed the bar, or become a politician, he'd have avoided this.  Let his voice be heard, for he too is suffering:

"On Dec. 3, 2004, after three decades of dedicated service to the city of New York and our country, President George W. Bush nominated me to become the second secretary of the US Department of Homeland Security. It was a privilege and an honor, and I accepted the nomination with a strong belief that my experience and success as a public servant would make this country safer in the wake of a newfound enemy as we continued to defend ourselves in the war against terror.
"One week later, I withdrew my name from consideration because the confirmation process was deteriorating into a nightmare that threatened to make a mockery of everything I had ever accomplished. What began with failing to pay the payroll tax of my children's nanny -- which has plagued more than a dozen presidential Cabinet nominees, past and present -- became a 5½-year nightmare of local, state and federal investigations that resulted in a 15-count criminal indictment against me. For nearly three years, I prepared to go to trial to defend myself against substantially the same charges I'd already faced in New York State Court. Then, just days before the federal trial was to begin, my bail was revoked and I was imprisoned. The judge threatened to disqualify my legal team, which both he and the government prosecutors had already done twice before and would have sent me back to square one for the third time with my savings now exhausted. 

This headline and story appeared in the press on May 4th, 2 days after Lynn's death:

"Actor John Clark is leading the tributes to his ex-wife Lynn Redgrave, who lost her battle with cancer at the age of 67. The "Georgy Girl" star passed away at her New York home on Sunday, May 2, marking another blow to the Redgrave acting dynasty - her brother Corin Redgrave died last month, while her niece Natasha Richardson lost her life following a skiing accident last year. Now actor/director Clark has paid tribute to the actress, whom he wed in 1967. He says, "I hope she finds peace where she is. She's back in the bosom of her family now and may she rest in peace." The couple became parents to three children, Benjamin, Pema and Annabel, before they divorced in 2000. A statement from the grieving siblings reads, "Our beloved mother Lynn passed away peacefully after a seven-year journey with breast cancer. She lived, loved and worked harder than ever before. "

I'm asked where was I for Lynn's funeral? Nobody saw me, why wasn't I there? Well, I'll tell you where I was, and you won't have read this anywhere else, not People Magazine, not Page 6, not Splash News, not TMZ, and not the Daily Mail (correction: In their 5/24 edition, they lifted the news off this site, without attribution - plagiarized as their own work. Invoking comments like "that sh*t isn't worthy of kissing the ground she walks on". Ironic comment, as you'll see...)

For context, you need to know that I have had no contact with our kids for a long time. While I've entertained them at my house in Hollywood, they have never wanted me to visit them on the East coast, and in fact ignored me when my daughter Annabel got married in New York last August.

I emailed my son Ben for the funeral whereabouts. He told me it was being held the next day, on Saturday May 8th at 10 in the morning at the First Congregational Church in Kent, Connecticut, and that his mother didn't want me there. I emailed the pastor, the Reverend Melinda Keck, for clarification. She simply told me not to attend, and please understand. I advised her to check her counseling goals towards her flock, and caught the red-eye for New York. To not go, in my mind, would be to validate her behavior towards me, an attempt to turn me into some version of Jesse James.  Besides, I have retained a love and respect for her, as the mother of my children, and the subject of my professional life.  I wished to find my own closure by attending.

After a horrid sleepless flight squeezed into a corner bulkhead seat, I rented a car at JFK, and drove North for 2 1/2 hours, reaching Kent with a half hour to spare. It came on to rain, hard. There was a group already on the church steps, two police cars in front with their lights flashing, and paparazzi in the road.

Directed to park in the back behind the church, I locked the car, and proceeded to walk towards the front. I was stopped by a security guard, and asked my name. Upon getting the answer, he summoned 2 policemen. They told me they would not let me pass. I insisted that I had every right to attend, having been a loyal husband for 33 years, and I wished to pay my final respects. As I pushed my way past them, they got physical. I guess I'm lucky I wasn't tasered. I fell to the ground, and lay there on the pavement in the pouring rain, uncovered, in my good clothes. I could feel a sharp pain in my chest, right where my pacemaker is installed from my heart attack 2 years ago, and then I passed out.

I briefly came to in an ambulance, siren wailing, with an attendant shoving his thumbs into my eyeballs, and asking if I could feel anything, before succumbing again. I awoke in the emergency room at what I later found out was the New Milford hospital, about 15 miles South of Kent. A barrage of tests were ordered, because I'd been unresponsive. My blood pressure was 220 over 180, and they faced a diagnostic challenge by giving me an EKG, a CAT scan and an Echocardiogram.

After a night spent in a hospital bed, I was dozing off when around the corner of my curtain appeared a smiling and anxious face, my son Jonathan, who I thought was in Ireland, followed by the face of my daughter Kelly (now Pema) and her daughter Lena (my granddaughter whom I had never met), plus an old friend from London I hadn't seen in years, Janie. They'd heard the sirens from inside the church, and found out it was for me. See the first picture below.

The doctor then came, and said if I felt better, I'd be released at 2pm, and that's exactly what happened. Jonathan came with Benjy, yet, bringing me one of his shirts - they'd cut mine off me - and drove me back to my still parked and locked car, where my entire family was waiting.

I was so pleased to see them, as you can tell by looking at the pictures below.

You will see Benjy, Pema, me, Annabel, Lena, Eduardo Garabal ("Eddie", Annabel's new husband) and Jonathan.

From there, they drove me to the grave site, where I took this picture, Lynn's final resting place next to her mother.

Well, that's the story. My story.

It became clear that the reason behind my banishment was that Lynn's lover, the Maggot (and I reference him here) was going to be at the funeral, and was staying at Lynn's house. They feared that if I saw him, I would try to throttle him. Silly, because I am quite civilized most of the time. Anyway, I drove back to New York, and all over Manhattan for half Sunday night for old time's sake, and took the early morning flight back to Los Angeles. My first time out of L.A. in twelve years.

And what began as the worst day of my life, ended up as the best day of my life.