By Jathan Janove–
In my life, I’ve had two uncomfortably close encounters with police officers. Having read coverage and seen videos from Michael Brown to George Floyd, I have little doubt that had my skin color been different, I wouldn’t be here today. However, rather than dwell on my near-escapes, I want to share three stories.
Many years ago as an employment attorney, I represented a client who ran a Utah construction company. Growing up in Los Angeles, his childhood dream was to become a police officer. As a young man, he succeeded and became a member of the LAPD in the early 1970s. One day I asked him why he left this profession and went into construction. He shared the following story.
He and two other police officers were called to a domestic violence scene in a poor, predominantly African American neighborhood. When they arrived and entered the apartment, a woman was sitting on a couch in a bathrobe, crying softly, with evidence of cuts and bruises.
In a small kitchen, a large, heavily muscled, shirtless black man stood. He began yelling at the police officers, telling them he was going to kick each of their white #@$!%&^* asses, one at a time. My client had been trained to circle a potential assailant. However, the kitchen was too small for this to happen.
My client walked up to the angry black man, and said, “Sir, we agree. We will fight you. One at a time. However, I have one small request.”
“What’s that you #@$%^&*?!”
“I’d like to be last.”
The expression on the man’s face changed. My client could see he was trying to digest what had just been said. Then, without another word, the man turned around and held his arms out to my client.
“Okay,” he said, “You can cuff me.”
They brought him in without further incident. My client’s experience was the talk of the station.
Two days later, he got a request to see the captain. Thinking he would receive a commendation for successfully defusing a dangerous situation, he walked into the captain’s office.
“I’m appalled and ashamed of you,” the captain said. “You had weapons. You showed weakness. You brought disrepute to the Force.”
Instead of a commendation, my client received a reprimand. Disgusted by this experience, he soon quit the LAPD and took a union job working on a construction crew. He later worked his way up to a management position, which is when we met.
Here’s the second story.
Several years ago, a buddy of mine and I stopped in a pub for a beer after watching a play in an out-of-the-way theater in the northeast quadrant of Portland, OR. (Portland is known by its four quadrants.)
Around midnight, we got up to leave. At that point, a large black man stepped in front of me, his face perhaps eight inches from mine. He said, “What are you talking about?!”
For most people, this would trigger a threat recognition, fight or flight response. Neither option appealed, however. As for fight, he was younger and larger than me; and I was younger and larger than my buddy who had a heart condition. Flight didn’t look too good either since he was between me and the door.
I replied, “I don’t know. The usual. Sports, politics.” I then said, “Why do you ask?”
“You’re not from around here!” the man said. “What quadrant are you from?!”
“Quadrant?” I said. “What do you mean? Quadrant of the universe? Quadrant of the planet?”
“No!” he said. “Portland!” I’m from Northeast and haven’t been shot.”
I said, “That reminds me of a quote from Winston Churchill.”
“I don’t like Churchill!” he said.
“Well you might like this quote. ‘There is nothing so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.’”
The man was silent, so I repeated, “There is nothing so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.”
The expression on his face changed. He smiled and said, “I do like that quote.”
He held out his hand. I took it. My buddy and I left the pub without further incident.
The third story involves my best friend in college, Rich Epps. Rich was a former heavyweight wrestling champion and was then pursuing a law degree. Rich was active in civil rights and led the Black Law Students Association.
Rich was truly a gentle giant. In our years together before he tragically passed away from illness, I never once heard him raise his voice.
Rich grew up in a world alien from my upbringing in white middle class, Middle America. Rich grew up in a poor black neighborhood in Wilmington, North Carolina. His cousin, Reginald Epps, was one of the Wilmington Ten. Rich described living conditions I couldn’t even begin to fathom.
I learned that Rich’s challenges as a black man didn’t end after he left Wilmington. He still had to deal with the reaction many white people had to seeing a large, muscular black man – routine police stops that weren’t routine, people crossing the street to avoid him, being tailed in stores, and trying in vain to hail a cab. There were times we were together when it was clear strangers viewed us differently – one, a potential problem; the other, just another white guy.
What is the moral of these stories? Where do we go from here? Aside from their physical stature, what do these three black men have in common? Here’s my take: each experienced a great deal of suffering, strife and privation unlike what most of us Caucasians have experienced. Although Rich was fortunate to break out of the inner city and pursue a college education, he still experienced mistreatment based on his skin color. Every encounter with the police was fraught with danger.
I have one thought: If police officers and those with power or authority approach “the other” as a genuinely decent human being, more often than not, they’ll encounter a genuinely decent human being. If any good comes from current circumstances, I hope that’s it.
Jathan Janove is Principal of Janove Organization Solutions, http://jathanjanove.com. Through consulting, executive coaching and training, he works with employers to create fully engaged workplace cultures. He also practiced law in Salt Lake City, Utah and Portland, Oregon.
