S3 Ep Justice

Network Sting: MSW Media

Martin: Hello, and welcome to the third season of the Martin Sheen Podcast with yours truly, Martin Sheen, of course. And I’m delighted to be back hosting this podcast pilgrimage where the destination is still and always will be the journey itself. Along the way, I plan to share stories and personal memories of some of the many people, places and events that have helped to shape my lifelong happy and continuing struggle as an artist and a man to unite the will of the spirit with the work of the flesh. I also hope to explore poetry as a powerful form of expression and communication by proxy, as it were, and how poetry is such a vital and necessary component of our spirituality and our public discourse. And from time to time, I’ll invite friends, fellow actors, poets, scholars and family members to join our pilgrimage and discuss what inspires their artistic journey. And so, friends, let us continue.

Martin: Protest, Trial and the Santa Claus Defense

In the fall of 1991, I began rehearsal for the premier production of the National Actors Theater, founded by actor Tony Randall. The play was the Crucible by Arthur Miller. The role was John Proctor, and the venue was a limited run on Broadway at the Belasco Theater. As rehearsals began in late September, Janet and I rented, or rather sublet, a midtown Manhattan apartment from a friend. The play would open on December 10 and run through January 5, which meant that for the first time in more than 20 years, we would be spending the Christmas season in New York City, which was always our favorite time of the year when we lived there. Rehearsals were held in an empty office space of a tall building on 6th Avenue overlooking Radio City Music Hall. The director was Yosi Yasraeli, and the extraordinary cast would include Michael York, Martha Scott, John Beale, Jane Addams, Fritz Weaver, with a brilliant performance by Mary Ann Plunkett as Elizabeth Proctor. Previews were set to begin Nov. 19 at the Belasco and run for two weeks before the opening in December. And everything was proceeding on schedule until I received an urgent request from the renowned environmentalist Terry Swearinggen imploring me to come to East Liverpool, Ohio, as soon as possible to help the community avert an environmental disaster in the making. At issue was a hazardous waste incinerator owned and operated by WTI Waste Technologies Industries, which was preparing to go online in a matter of months. It was opposed by the EPA as a danger to public health due to the probability of toxic air pollution, including high levels of lead poisoning, which the community was not made fully aware of. Add to that, the site itself was in violation of local safe zoning laws. It was located within 100 yards of a public school and several homes, and it was well within the floodplain of the very near Ohio River. With a clear understanding of what was at stake, I assured Terry of my support. But I also made it clear that I was not able to come to Ohio in person anytime soon due to my commitment with the play in New York. In fact, I told her that the following Sunday, October 13th, was my only day off for another week. But she was not easily put off. Next Sunday would be fine, she said. Terry Swearengen was a practicing full time professional nurse with a well-earned reputation fighting for environmental rights and protections. She would be awarded the Goldman Environmental Prize, often referred to as the Green Nobel Prize in 1997. How often the course I’d plan to avoid confronting a moral issue is the one that leads me back to it. Thus, after an early morning Mass on Sunday, October 13, I caught a flight from LaGuardia Airport in New York to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Terry met me at the airport and together we drove to East Liverpool, Ohio, where we joined a gathering of over 100 demonstrators she had helped to organize for the event. After warm introductions, we formed together and marched to the site where a planned rally was held at 2pm under clear blue skies and the watchful eye of the local police. Nearly an hour on, after several inspiring speeches were made and some beautiful hymns were sung, I felt moved to act on my own. But I had little time to do so and still make the last flight back to New York that evening. I was also determined to avoid a conspiracy charge, assuming I would be arrested. So I asked the crowd to continue praying and singing, and with that I headed toward the fence surrounding the site, climbed over it, jumped down on the other side, and knelt in silent prayer. Needless to say, I was totally unprepared for what happened next. And so, were the local police, to our combined astonishment, nearly a third of the crowd surged toward the fence, climbed over it en masse, jumped down on the other side, and joined in tearful laughter and joyful song. There’s no better way to describe that powerful, spontaneous, joy filled, nonviolent demonstration of civil disobedience for an urgent moral cause, and the exaltation that followed, because that is the way it actually happened. Almost immediately, of course, the police began to make arrests, beginning with me, but they were not in the least bit aggressive. In fact, they were quite friendly and polite to all the demonstrators and there were no complaints or injuries. I was taken to the local jail, booked, and put in a large holding cell with several bunk beds. Resigned to my fate and exhausted after a long, emotional day, I climbed into one of the top bunks and fell asleep, only to be jolted awake a short time later by loud cheering and applause from outside the jail. Soon, one by one, each male protester was brought in, booked, and joined me in the holding cell. The women, Terry among them, were taken to another part of the jail and put through the same process. But less than an hour later, every one of us, 36 in all, were released on our own recognizance to await trial. Terry drove me back to the airport in Pittsburgh, and we made it in time for me to catch the last flight to New York. The following day, I rejoined the cast for rehearsal of The Crucible and couldn’t wait for someone to ask what I did on my day off. The trial of the so-called incinerator Protesters began on February 10, 1992, in an East Liverpool, Ohio, courtroom, with Municipal Court Judge Melissa Byers Emerling presiding. Of the original 36 protesters, one pleaded guilty, four waived their right to a jury trial, and two others had the charges against them reduced. Thus, there were 29 defendants, including myself, on trial. I was represented by my dear friend and public defender from Wilkes Barre, Pennsylvania, Joe Cosgrove, and attorney Paul Boas from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania represented the other 28. The court had granted both attorneys permission to appear on our behalf in Ohio under a legal provision called pro hoc vice. Day one began with jury selection, and it continued to the lunch break recess. Joe and I were heading towards a restaurant when we came across some fans in the street, and I gladly signed several autographs in passing. When we returned an hour later, the entire courthouse was in an uproar, and Joe was ordered by the bailiff to appear with me immediately in the judge’s chambers, and he escorted us there. When we arrived, we found the judge pacing to and fro in a rage, and when Joe asked her what was wrong, she stopped and said gravely, I I must consider declaring a mistrial on the grounds of possible jury tampering because your client was seen at the recess fraternizing with two members of the jury pool. I had to stifle a laugh, but this was no laughing matter for Joe, and he took great pains to explain what had happened regarding my signing the autographs. It was an innocent gesture in passing for several men that we had no idea were in the jury pool, Joe said. The judge was skeptical, but she began to soften when, as if on cue, the men in question appeared and confirmed our story. Then, finally, convinced there was no criminal act on my part, she dismissed the incident with a stern warning to all concerned. But her intensity was noteworthy, as was the nameplate on her desk that read Maximum Melissa. When the court reconvened, the afternoon session was spent completing the required jury of eight. And by day’s end, five men and three women were sworn in. Of note, the two men from the autograph signing incident were not chosen, and I can only imagine their relief. The second day began with the reading of the charges against each individual defendant by first and last name, all in alphabetical order, and each one responded proudly with not guilty. If convicted, we all faced 30 days in jail and a $250 fine. Most of the defendants were from Jefferson county, which included the city of East Liverpool, and they reflected a fair cross section of the community itself. Mostly middle aged or slightly younger men and women. They included nurses, schoolteachers, farmers, housewives, shopkeepers, students, small business owners, an auto mechanic, several retirees and a Vietnam veteran. They had grown quite close since the demonstration and carefully planned their defense as a unit. And with the exception of a speeding ticket, astonishingly, there was not one criminal record among the entire group. As the day continued, the prosecution presented the evidence, which surprisingly included a videotape of the entire action and arrest made by the local police. All the defendants, including myself, could clearly be seen climbing over the fence and refusing to leave when ordered to do so. The prosecutor entered his argument urging the jury to return a guilty as charge verdict. But while the defense allowed the videotape into evidence without objection, it put forth a powerful argument based on a necessary defense. Prime example, one can enter a private home to save an occupant if the house is on fire. In our case, the health of the entire community would be at risk from toxic waste pollution. Necessary defense was our only purpose for the demonstration and remained at the core of the proceedings for the duration of the trial. The next three days centered on several professional government witnesses for the defense who confirmed the severe health risk to the public if the toxic waste incinerator went online. And they held up well under cross examination. But perhaps the most memorable and by far the most lighthearted moment of the entire trial occurred when Joe moved to dismiss the charges against me based on unrebutted testimony from a federal property expert who had written the law and said that ownership of the very wayside itself was unproven. Thus, there could be no trespass. Joe began by evoking the court of imagination and went on with, remember in Miracle on 34th street, when they tried to prove that Kris kringle wasn’t Santa Claus. But since the post office delivered mail addressed to Santa Claus to him, the court decided it could not rule against the federal government. And this court should not question the federal government either. I could not have been prouder of Joe. But after a brief pause, the judge denied his motion, saying, I don’t remember Miracle on 32nd Street. She was only off by two blocks. Nonetheless, she was not put off in the least. And the entire exchange was covered by Dan Hopley, a reporter from the Pittsburgh press, in an article that appeared on February 15, 1992, under the headline court not snowed by Sheen’s Santa Claus defense. All levity aside, the critical issue of public health that could seriously affect every man, woman and child in the community for generations was not lost on the jury. And on Friday, February 14, 1992, the trial concluded when they returned a unanimous verdict and declared that each and every defendant by first and last name, in alphabetical order, was not guilty. It was a valentine to the defendants and the environment. Unfortunately, however, hopes were dashed and fears realized when the hazardous waste incinerator, the largest toxic waste incinerator in the United States, owned and operated by waste technologies industries, went online in east Liverpool, Ohio, in October 1993. It has remained fully operational ever since.

Martin: We’re going to take a little break here, but I assure you there’s much more to come. Stay tuned.

Martin: And we’re back.

Martin: Consider This from Benjamin Franklin.

Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn.

Martin: Changed by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

From the outskirts of the town where of old the milestone stood now a stranger looking down, I behold the shadowy crown of the dark and haunted wood. Is it changed, or am I changed? Ah, the oaks are fresh and green, but the friends with whom I ranged through their thickets are estranged by the years that intervene. Bright as ever flows the sea. Bright as ever shines the sun. But alas, they seem to me not the sun that used to be, not the tides that used to run. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was an American poet and educator. He is known for his style of lyric poetry, presenting stories of mythology and legend, such as the song of Hiawatha and The Village blacksmith. He was born on February 27, 1807, in Portland, Maine, and died on March 24, 1882, in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was 75 years old.

Martin: The following is a selection from the book Blessed Among Us by Robert Ellsberg. The book is filled with daily reflections that explore the lives of saints as well as ordinary men and women with extraordinary stories of courage and spiritual awakening.

Gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. Mahalia Jackson, known as the Queen of Gospel, was born to a poor family in New Orleans. She found her calling at the Mount Moriah Baptist Church, where she began singing in the choir. After moving to Chicago, she met the famous gospel choir leader and composer, the Reverend Thomas Dorsey, and began to tour. Gradually, her reputation spread throughout the country and indeed the world. She became the first gospel singer to perform at Carnegie Hall. And despite her fame, she constantly confronted prejudice. In the 1950s, the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Invited her to help raise money for the Montgomery bus boycott. From that time on, she was always available whenever Reverend King called. Sometimes, when feeling low, he would ask her to sing his favorite hymn, take My Hand, Precious Lord, a hymn she would later sing at his funeral. She hoped her music would, quote “Break down some of the hate and fear that divide the white and black people of this country.” In fact, Jackson played a significant role in King’s most famous oration. She was at his side performing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial on the famous March on Washington in August 1963. As King approached the conclusion of his written speech, Jackson called out, “Tell him about the dream, Martin. Tell him about the dream.” At that point, King departed from his speech to deliver the historic lines that became a signature of his legacy. I have a dream. Her quote “After you sing the blues, you still have the blues. I sing God’s music because it makes me feel free.” Unquote. Mahalia Jackson was born in New Orleans, Louisiana, on October 26, 1911. She died in Evergreen Park, Illinois, on January 27, 1972. Mahalia Jackson was 60 years old.

Robert Ellsberg is an American publisher specializing in religious and spiritual exploration. He is editor in chief and publisher of Orbis Books. He lives and works in upstate New York with his wife.

Martin: The Wind One Brilliant Day By Antonio Machado Translated by Robert Bly

The wind one brilliant day called to my soul with the scent of jasmine. In return for the scent of my jasmine, I’d like all the scent of your roses. I have no roses. All the flowers in my garden are, dead. Well, then I’ll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain. The wind left and I wept. And I said to myself, what have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?

Antonio Machado was a Spanish poet born July 26, 1875. He died February 22, 1939. He was 64 years old.

Martin: I invite you to delve further into the works of the poets I shared with you, and I hope you seek out writers and poets whose work speaks to your hearts and minds with the power to inspire your life. If you’ve enjoyed what you’ve heard here, please subscribe to my podcast, The Martin Sheen Podcast, with your host, yours truly, Martin Sheen, of course, wherever you find your podcasts. Yeah, I still have to say that. You can find a complete list of the poets and titles of their poems that I’ve chosen at our website themartensheenpodcast.com

I want to thank the people who make this podcast possible. Our producer and research assistant, Renee Estevez, whose explanation of the Internet really gets me thinking… What’s for lunch? And our sound engineer and editor, Bruce Greenspan, the man behind these rich and seamless recordings with the much-deserved nickname the Sound Surgeon. And I especially want to thank you, our listeners, for joining me.

And so, friends, we part with the prayer from Tagore.

We are called to lift up this nation and all its people to that place where the heart is without fear and the head is held high, where knowledge is free, where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls, where words come out from the depths of truth and tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection, where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sands of dead habit, where the mind is led forward by thee into ever widening thought and action, into that heaven of freedom, dear Father, let our country awake. Amen.

Renee: The Martin Sheen Podcast all rights no part of this podcast may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form without prior written consent of the author and TE Productions.

The story “Protest Trial and the Santa Clause Defense” by Ramon Gerard Estevez AKA Martin Sheen is included in this podcast by permission of the authority.

“The Wind” from Times Alone Selected Poems by Antonio Machado, translated by Robert Bly, 1983 published by Wesleyan University Press, used by permission.

Blessed Among Us Mahalia Jackson by Robert Ellsberg is included here by granted copyright permission and we thank the author for this opportunity to share his work.