If the university decides tomorrow that Dade will be kicked off the team and even out of school, what can I do that will be worth a pitcher of warm spit? I am just remembering that in 1978 Lou Holtz, when he coached the Razorbacks, applied the socalled do-right rule, and kicked three black starters off the team who had been accused of some kind of sexual misconduct involving a white coed in the athletic dorm. The university was promptly taken to federal court by two of the state’s most famous civil rights lawyers to get the players back on the team in time for the Orange Bowl against Oklahoma. I can’t remember the details, but they didn’t succeed, and yet the Razorbacks went on to crush Oklahoma 31 to 6, which was poetic justice in the eyes of many white

Arkansans. It seems to me the players weren’t even charged. The story was, as usual, the Razorbacks. Why did James suggest me? There are plenty of lawyers who have bigger names and more resources. As a solo practitioner, I’m going to have my hands full. Yet, why look a gift horse in the mouth? This case could lead to a whole new career.

While I am pondering these questions, Roy returns and tells me that I am now representing his son. Ten minutes later I am escorted to the door, having promised to drive to Fayetteville in the morning after I see a client. In return I have commitments from the Cunningham brothers for my fee and bond money. I need to think, and I drive north twenty-five blocks across town to a junior high school track that attracts dozens of joggers and walkers, most of them upscale whites from the neighborhood. I’ve fantasized for years that I would meet one of the women who come here, but it never happens. Some are very attractive, but I never quite manage to start a conversation that gets beyond the weather. Many of them are twenty years younger, and I look like a cardiac victim after ten minutes on the track, which may have something to do with it.



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