Real Consumer Protection Needs Strong Court Systems, Not Just Re-regulation

As President-elect Barack Obama is in his initial days of his presidency, we Americans continue to experience the devastating effects of decades of deregulation of our financial markets and of industries central to our economy, not to mention the years of steady funding cuts to government watchdog agencies designed to protect the rights and safety of individual consumers.  From Enron to the importation of dangerous toys and tainted foodstuffs, from the sub-prime mortgage crisis to Bear Stearns, AIG and Bernard Madoff – what we see at the core of countless scandals in recent years is the tragic legacy of excessive deregulation to the detriment of the public interest.

The incoming Obama administration has the opportunity to change the course of that downward deregulatory spiral and revive the salutory role of regulations and norms, which even some fiscal conservatives, and registered Republicans like myself, believe to be necessary if our economy and financial markets are to function properly to the benefit of American businesses and the American public, and ultimately the American economy.

Even so, such a course of action alone will hardly be sufficient to stem the steady erosion that has occurred over decades in the protection and defense of the rights of the individual and consumers in our society.  What separates the United States from many developing nations is our well developed and generally reliable, fair, and independent judiciary.  As an institution, an efficient and effective United States' civil justice system is the cornerstone of our first-world status that separates us from other economically or militarily powerful countries.

Chronic underfunding of the federal and state court system and prevelant misguided attacks on those diligently defending the rights of those who have been unfairly harmed undermine our civil justice system and threaten both the safety and economic well being of every American.  Instead, we should be supporting an appropriate level of funding for courts and judges at both the federal and state level and we should oppose the economically inspired attempts at tort-reform that will destroy our civil justice system which serves precisely as the last and best protective defense of our individual and collective rights as consumers.

Now more than ever before, America needs a well-funded and vibrant court system. Why is this so urgent today? Three good reasons, made evident by our ongoing national financial and economic crisis, come to mind immediately:

Mortgage foreclosures – the millions of Americans losing their homes today include untold numbers whose initial loans were illegally structured with ineffective, non-compliant disclosures or who may be victims of hasty and illegal foreclosure proceedings, pushed through courtrooms overwhelmed by the sheer volume of filings.  Shouldn't individuals faced with the loss of their homes have recourse to an effective  well-funded court system and qualified attorneys to assert their rights against possible injustices in the foreclosure process?

Unemployment -- millions of Americans are today losing their jobs or having their hours and benefits cut, but under the constant mind-numbing barrage of negative financial and economic headlines few bother to question how many of those layoffs or reduction of hours or benefits have occurred outside the bounds of state and federal labor legislation. Wage and salary earners who believe they've been wronged need access to properly functioning courts and trial attorneys to help them assert their most basic workplace rights.

Financial malfeasance -- those who may have lost fortunes with financiers such as Bernard Madoff are just the "tip of the iceberg," with millions of small investors having lost years of careful savings and cautious retirement investments that were to see them through old age. These small investors deserve access to a functioning justice system that encourages them to assert their rights toward recovery of some portion of their monies lost through negligence or malfeasance of fund operators and money managers.

Congress and State legislatures need to vigorously pursue the adequate funding of trial and appellate court systems at the State and Federal levels to ensure that Americans seeking to avail themselves of the judicial process are not hamstrung by underbudgeted court systems.  At the same time, both the general public and the trial lawyers of this country have roles to play that can make the courts once again a trusted and honored venue for vindication of our rights as individuals and consumers.

The American people need to re-examine and dispense with the uni-dimensional attorney-bashing stereotype of trial lawyers as money-grubbing ambulance chasers that has been steadily fed to them over the years by special interests. It's time for the public to recognize and to give credit where credit is due -- in our deregulated last quarter century,  it has been trial lawyers working through the courts who have most consistently stood up as the last line of defense for consumer and individual rights against those seeking unchecked profit and gain.

In this time of crisis, trial lawyers can also help by dispensing with the legal billing "meter" that the public perceives to be always running in the background when it comes to basic information about consumer and individual rights and their protection, making as  much of that basic information available to the general public as possible. Attorneys who actively promote informing the public of their rights in areas that include those mentioned above will be seen as providing an invaluable public service, helping both to improve the sometimes tainted image of the legal profession and to stand it in good stead with the American public for years to come. 

* * *

Curtis Wolfe, an attorney who lives in Miami, is President and CEO of Boca Raton-based Internet startup, WhoCanISue.com. 

Tribute to Karl Wolfe

Three years ago today, I received a phone call that my father had committed suicide.  After returning to Iowa to be with my step-mother Kathie and my brothers and sisters, I learned that my biological mother who was suffering with the final stages of Alzheimer's was in the hospital with pneumonia.  After my father's viewing on the following day, the hospital called to inform us that my mother also passed away. To say it was a bad week would be an understatement.  

As a tribute to my father, I am publishing the eulogy that I gave for him on that Saturday. 

"Sort of funny… 

 

A person lives 67 years and 243 days and someone is supposed to stand up here and expound on their life in just a few minutes.  24,363 sunrises.  24,363 sunsets.  584,712 hours.  35 million 82 thousand and 720 some odd minutes.

 

After a while, 24,363 days or 584,712 hours seems as constant as time, as dependable as the changing of the leaves in the fall, the freezing Iowa winters, or fields of tall corn in August. 

 

But it really isn't.  Unlike eternity, we are humans and we are born and we die. 

 

Life itself is ephemeral, it comes and it goes. 

 

Today is the day we ask, Who was Karl Frederick Wolfe? 

 

Karl was born to Dwight and Wilma Wolfe right here in Des Moines, Iowa on May 22, 1938.  He grew up on Marella Trail near Witmer park, graduated from North High School and studied briefly at Drake University.  He enlisted in the Air Force in 1960 and served his country for two years, including a stint in Newfoundland, Canada.  After leaving the Air Force, he went to work at the Post Office in 1963 where he worked for nearly 40 years, until he retired in 2002.

 

That is what he did, but it really doesn't tell us who he was.  To each of us, he was someone a little different.

He was "Husband" to my Mom Kathie. 

 

"Dad" to me and my brothers and sisters--Chris, Cory, Shawn and Shelley. 

 

Father-in-law to Monica, Molly, and Julie.

 

Son-in-law to Grandpa and Grandma Lawrence.

 

"Grandpa Karl" to nine beautiful kids and two buns in the oven.

 

He was "Yellow Cat" to those who shared a boat, a bridge, or a lake shore with him in the many years that he sought his nemesis—catfish.  He fished the rivers, lakes and ponds of Iowa, Missouri, and Canada.

 

Karl was also known as "Zip Code" to his friends at Isaac Walton League Club—or simply Ike's as he called it--where he ate, drank and played pitch every Tuesday after work for twenty some odds years.  He got the name Zip Code because he always went directly from work in his uniform with his US Postal Service cap.

 

In good Eulogistic form, I'm supposed to sprinkle somewhat memorable, insightful or humorous anecdotes about my father and his 24,363 days on this planet.  I leave the judgment about whether anything I say is memorable, insightful and especially humorous to you, but in the little time I have today, I hope they touch on aspects of who he was.

 

Some fifteen years ago, Dad was cleaning a record-sized catfish that he had dragged out of Lake Ahquabi when the knife slipped and he gashed through his index finger nearly removing it from his left hand. 

 

Luckily, Mom rushed him to the hospital where a skilled surgeon saved the finger.  Now you know how close he came to becoming known at Ike's as "9-Digit Zip Code."

 

Back to the list.

 

He was "Brother" to his sister Virginia and her husband Bill.

 

He was "Can Man" to those who knew him during the period that he spent all of his free time collecting refundable soda and beer cans.  Sometimes he even spent your free time picking up cans.  You could be with him on the way to Iowa City for one reason or another and if he spotted, with hawk like precision—pun intended—a can on the side of Interstate 80, he insisted you bring the car, truck or van to a screeching halt to collect the can and the five cents that it would bring to his endeavor. 

 

Sure, he spent $1 of gas to go from 65 to 0 and back again, but you knew that any debating the point was useless. 

 

The nickel was his, the gas was yours!

 

Back to the list.

 

He was the "Ex" twice over to my biological mother who followed my father and succumbed the day after he died to her own fight of debilitating health issues of her own, including Alzheimers that had destroyed her mind to the point that she thought that I was the father of her children. 

 

Maybe her fading mind saw a glimpse of a younger Karl in my face. 

 

I prefer to think that people mistake me for Brad Pitt, but I, like my father, am a realist.

 

He was the "Passport guy" to the hundreds or thousands of people he helped with their passport issues during the time he ran the passport desk at the Post Office.

He was an anonymous Good Samaritan to many people.  He was always willing to spend his time and energy to help people that he didn't even know.  When we lived on Lincoln Road, he would dig people out of a snow bank during a blizzard who were foolish enough to think they could traverse that hill.  Watching for them was a pastime during blizzards (this was before cable t.v. and the Internet).  Helping them was his calling.

 

Once on a trip to my grandparent's house in Forsyth, Missouri, we came upon a car accident that had obviously just occurred.  Much to our chagrin, Dad volunteered to take the injured people to the hospital some 20 miles in the opposite direction from Grandpa and Grandma's house even though we already had 2 adults and 3 restless children in our five passenger Mercury sedan.  Not only did he deliver these people to the hospital, we waited until they had all been treated and released, so we could take them with the tow truck back to the accident scene to retrieve their car.  The number of times this happened was literally countless.

 

Back to the list.

 

He was a "Cribbage Guru" to anyone who dared sit across a cribbage board from him.  A fierce competitor who never let you win out of pity or to make you feel good.  If you beat him, you earned it.

 

He was a devout democrat to those running for public office.  Independent to those seeking donations for their campaigns.

 

He was a collector.

 

His collector gene dominated his being.  From the time I was little, he collected signatures, record albums and paraphernalia from country music stars. 

He built and collected covered wagons. 

Then covered bridges. 

Then he collected covered bridge post cards,

Then hats. 

Then Jim Beam car decanters. 

Then slot machine tokens. 

Then miniature semi trucks and race cars. 

He was a collector. 

 

Our house is a testament to this—it could be a museum.  Maybe not a museum that anyone would pay to go through, but something in line with the World's second largest free standing mud dwelling from National Lampoon's Vacation.

 

My dad claimed to be an atheist.  He really wasn't.  His God created the earth that he loved.  The rivers, the streams, the ponds and lakes where he loved to fish.  The fields, woods and ravines where he loved to hunt.  He was one with God on his boat, by himself in the middle of a lake.  That was his chapel.

 

Only he knows for sure exactly what his true faith was, but his doubt about God surely stems from his deep-seated belief in the plight of the little guy.  Rage against the machine.  Common man's fight against the proverbial Man. 

 

He also struggled with the eternal question of why would the God of mainstream Christianity, who is supposed to be so good and so benevolent, bestow so much suffering in this world on those who love and worship Him. 

 

He trusted religion about as much as he trusted the government or corporate America.

 

His policy: keep them out of his wallet and out of his boat.

My father was a bright man with a quick, sardonic wit. 

 

He was hard working and honest. 

 

Some would say too hard working. 

 

Many would say too honest. 

 

He told it like it was.

 

His passion for accomplishing a goal would have made him a great entrepreneur, except he lacked the self confidence to make the leap from the security that he knew and was comfortable with and that provided for his family into what he probably would have loved. 

He was a good father, not a great father. 

 

He wasn't the most patient man with children, whether his or others. 

 

He didn't spare the rod or spoil the child that's for sure. 

 

Nonetheless, I think we all knew that he loved us for who we are and the adults we have become.

 

Karl Wolfe loved his family, NASCAR races, fishing, and Johnny Cash. 

 

In what order, only he knows for sure.

My Dad was the "P" word. 

 

Pragmatic. 

 

For those of you who thought the "P" word was "patient," well you didn't know him very well. 

 

In the end, he wasn't even patient enough to wait for death to come to him. 

 

I could spend hours with stories about his lack of patience, many hilarious others not so much. 

 

For those of you who were thinking of another P word, you'll get your chance in a few minutes to share that with all of us.

 

My P word is Pragmatic.  He did what needed to be done.  When I was three, we had a dog named Lassie.  Very original name for a Collie. 

 

We loved Lassie as only two, three and four year old children could. 

 

Lassie loved us…but hated everyone else in the world. 

 

Lassie bit the paper boy, the meter man, the mail man and finally, the landlord. 

 

We were on the verge of being evicted from our house on Lower Beaver Road. 

Dad knew what he had to do.

Today, we would take the dog to the pound, drop him off and let someone else handle the dirty work. 

On a long, hot, Iowa summer day in 1966, Dad got out his 22 rifle, loaded Lassie into the car, took her into the country and shot her in the head, twice. 

 

He didn't want her to suffer. 

 

Lassie's time had come and my father did what he thought was necessary and best for his family. 

 

That night and for many days to follow, I saw my father cry and mourn Lassie's passing.  In fact, he bawled. 

 

On his 24,343^rd day on this planet, Dad felt it was his time.  I'm sure he did what he thought was necessary. 

 

Now, we cry and grieve his passing.

 

He was indeed pragmatic.

 

That's the end of my list.

 

If I left anything out that won't offend women and children, feel free to speak up now. 

 

I believe that the true measure of your life on earth should not be the number of breaths you take, but the number of times your breath is taken away. 

 

I hope his breath was taken away many, many times.

Please don't mourn my father's passing. 

Of course, we will all miss him, but he left this planet on his own terms. 

 

Instead, celebrate his life.

 

Celebrate that your life is richer because you knew and spent time with Karl Frederick Wolfe.

 

When you catch a big ass catfish, say "this one's for you Yellow Cat!"

 

When you pick-up a refundable can on the side of the road, say "this one is for you Can Man!"

 

When you shoot-the-moon in a good game of pitch and actually pull it off, say "this is for you Zip Code!"

 

When you teach your kids to play cribbage, say "this is for you Dad!"

 

He will appreciate it.

 

Dad, we all love you and will miss you greatly."

Time for Major Changes Mr. President

With the present economic situation and the popularity and expectations for the new administration, President Obama has unprecedented latitude to make sweeping changes that would otherwise be politically unconscionable.  The following suggestions range from the simple and obvious to the more daring:

1.  Abandon the Penny.  In 2008, it was reported that it costs 1.7 cents to make a penny.  With inflation over the last century, the penny is actually a rounding error for most purchases.  We could round all costs to the nearest nickel saving time and effort.  This is a no brainer.

2.  Adopt the Metric System.  As my 2008 New Years Resolution, I went metric.  One year later, I am still fully functional and no worse for the wear.  We have been using the British system of measures for hundreds of years.  Even the British have abandoned this useless system of jumbled, non-sensical measures, and they invented it!  When we were in first grade, we learned the metric system and were told that by the time we grew up everything would be metric.  Now, some 40 years later, we are still no closer to being fully metric than we were in the 1960s.  We are the only country in the world that sticks to the non-metric system.  If we bit the bullet and went metric, we would have to spend money on the conversion, but this could be underwritten by the government and at least at the end of the day we would have something to show for it.  In one year we could do it and believe it or not, we would survive.  I'm confident.  

3.  Legalize Internet Gambling.  Those who want to gamble on the Internet DO IT despite the fact that our government has taken a hard line against it.  What do we really gain from having gambling illegal?  A recent 20/20 show investigated the online gambling industry and discovered that there are individuals who manipulate the system and cheat gamblers out of millions of dollars per year.  Because it is illegal, the world of online gambling resides in off shore computer banks in Costa Rica, Antigua and other non-descript, unregulated countries.  If gambling were legalized, reputable, regulated entities could operate the systems with transparency and fairness that is incapable of confirmation with the present underworld operations.  More importantly, these entities would pay taxes on the money they make and would have reporting obligations for the gamblers who win, who presently do not pay taxes on those winnings.

4.  Legalize Drugs (personal disclosure, I don't use drugs).  This is an example of how we seem to never learn from our past.  During prohibition, alcohol production, sales and consumption were all illegal.  This opened the door for criminals to control a multi-million dollar industry using violence, corruption and intimidation to protect their territories. The same is true with the drug trade.  President Bush (41) declared a war on drugs in 1990.  We are no closer to winning the war on drugs in 2009 than we were in 1990 even though we have spent $20 billion per year for the last two decades. While we continue to use drugs at a rate equal to or greater than we did at the start of the war on drugs, the countries that supply us with drugs are mired in corruption, violence, and organized crime.  The benefits to Colombia and Mexico go way beyond the economic benefits we would realize.

There is a very thin line between someone who ends up on the wrong end of a criminal drug charge for use and our last three Presidents (Clinton, W. Bush and Obama have all admitted to using drugs at some point in their lives).  Our prisons are filled with people involved with drug related criminal offenses, costing us additional billions of dollars even though politicians, civic and business leaders, and pillars of our community use marijuana like the generations before them would have nightly martinis. 

With the savings in not engaging in a senseless war on drugs and the earnings we would get from taxing the importation and sales of marijuana and cocaine, we could add $100 billion per year to the national coffers.  Yes, there are people who have addiction issues and they need help, but dedicating one percent of the earnings from the sales to help them with their addiction issues would likely be sufficient (note: these people are likely already in a 12 step program or on their way).