Mark the Sparrow

by Clark Howard

  “The state director of education has formally charged me with dereliction of duty, and the civil service commission has ordered me before its board on Wednesday to answer the charges.”

  Cloud dropped into a chair facing her. “Dereliction of duty—?” He took the letter from her hand and read it. “What’s the purpose of it?” Cloud asked.

  “To force me to resign or to have the commission discharge me.”

  “I thought civil servants couldn’t be fired.”

  “They can’t, normally. But the civil service commission can dismiss anyone for certain causes. And dereliction of duty is one.”

  “Do you think they can prove it?”

  Genevieve shrugged. “I don’t know, Rob. I won’t know until Wednesday.” She smiled, but it was not her usual glowing smile. “It’s wonderful about Weldon’s stay.”

  “Yes,” Cloud said absently. At the moment he was more concerned about Genevieve Neller. Whitman’s future was temporarily secure; Genevieve’s was in immediate jeopardy.

  As he thought about what was being done to the dedicated, sincere woman behind the desk, a cold, vengeful anger began to build up in him. Dirty bastards, he thought. Dirty bastards, all of them.

  On Wednesday at the appointed time, Genevieve Neller was shown into the civil-service commission hearing room. The three commissioners, along with Director of Education Hardy, his assistant Lenz, and a stenographer, were already present.

  “Ah, Miss Neller, good morning,” said the chairman of the commission, a completely bald man whose head reflected the ceiling fluorescents. He introduced her to his colleagues and then had her sit across the conference table from Hardy and Lenz. The three commissioners sat at a separate table perpendicular to the conference table.

  “Please show the hearing called to order at this time,” the chairman said to the stenographer, “and add Miss Neller’s name to the list of those present.” He faced Genevieve and smiled. “Now then, Miss Neller, you’ve received our letter and are aware that a charge of dereliction of duty has been filed against you with this commission by your superior, Mr. Hardy. The commission at this time would like to advise you of the procedures that we are required to take, and of your statutory rights during those procedures.” The chairman leaned forward and folded his hands judicially. “First of all, you are of course permitted to have an attorney represent you at any and all stages of the proceedings. You may even have an attorney present at this advisory hearing, and if you so desire, we will postpone this hearing and give you time to retain counsel of your choice.” He paused and looked at Genevieve. When she did not speak, he said, “Would you like to get an attorney, Miss Neller?”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you, I wouldn’t.”

  “Very well then. The next step is to have Mr. Hardy present to this commission and to you a detailed statement of his charge, along with a statement as to exactly how he proposes to prove the charge. After being presented with these statements and after having read them, you may request and we will grant a recess to allow you time to consult with an attorney on the specifics of Mr. Hardy’s accusation. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes, I do, thank you,” Genevieve said.

  “All right. If you choose not to recess for the purpose of obtaining counsel at that point, the commission will then ask you if you desire to request a civil-service trial at which Mr. Hardy will be required to prove the allegation he has given against you. If you desire such a trial, you are again permitted to have legal counsel represent you. If you do not request a civil-service trial, then this commission is empowered to render a decision based solely on Mr. Hardy’s statements plus any testimony or evidence you wish to present to the contrary. Is all that clear, Miss Neller?”

  “Yes,” Genevieve answered again.

  “Finally,” the chairman said, “if we do render a decision adverse to your position, you may retain an attorney at that time and appeal our decision to the Superior Court.”

  “I understand,” Genevieve said. She had the odd feeling that everyone in the room was staring at her as if she were the corpse at a funeral. “May I see Mr. Hardy’s charges, please?” she asked.

  “Certainly.” Mr. Lenz rose and passed sets of stapled papers to each of the commissioners and to Genevieve.

  Her hands trembling slightly, Genevieve read her copy. The allegation was simple and to the point. During a two-month period, Genevieve Neller was known to have addressed eleven separate gatherings of people in support of the Save Whitman Movement. Each of the eleven occasions was known to have taken place during normal work hours on a normal workday. On each occasion, Miss Neller was known to have been away from her job between two and three hours. Inquiry had been made of Miss Neller as to whether it was her intention to continue her activities in behalf of the Save Whitman Movement, and Miss Neller had indicated that such was her intention. In view of her past absenteeism in favor of the Save Whitman Movement, and her apparent decision to continue such conduct, the state director of education felt that Miss Neller was neglecting her duties as state law librarian and would continue to neglect those duties, and therefore recommended her dismissal from that position.

  Genevieve finished reading the allegation, swallowed dryly, and glanced briefly at the statement of proposal of proof submitted with the charge. In it, Hardy indicated that he would subpoena the chairwomen of each of the eleven groups before which Genevieve had spoken, to prove the dates and times as well as the lengths of the meetings, and would offer the sworn testimony of his assistant, Harold Lenz, as to Miss Neller’s statement that she intended to continue her activities in the same pattern.

  How neat and tidy, Genevieve thought. How very neat and tidy.

  “Have you finished reading the allegations, Miss Neller?” the chairman asked.

  “Yes,” Genevieve said quietly, placing the set of papers on the table before her.

  “Do you desire to request a postponement of further proceedings to allow you to confer with an attorney?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Do you desire to formally request a civil-service trial and require Mr. Hardy to prove the allegations?”

  “Of course not,” Genevieve said, raising her chin in slight defiance. “There is no point in subjecting those ladies to such inconvenience. I do not deny being at any of those gatherings.”

  “Do you admit to the dates and times alleged?”

  “I can’t remember all the dates. I’m sure they’re accurate, however.” She gave Mr. Hardy a withering look.

  “You admit to pursuing this activity on state time?” one of the other commission members asked.

  “Yes, certainly. It’s common practice at the administrative level; nearly all members of state management take time off to participate in various outside activities.”

  “Various recognized activities, Miss Neller,” the commissioner pointed out. “State government allows its management certain latitude in participating in activities such as fund-raising for legitimate charities, community affairs, cultural activities, youth programs, even social and fraternal groups. But this Save Whitman Movement is certainly not to be put in the same category as those activities.”

  “And why not?” Genevieve challenged, shedding her nervousness. “Is it because instead of helping promote our symphony season, I’m trying to keep a possibly innocent man out of the gas chamber? Because instead of sipping tea and talking about how to get new exercise equipment for the YWCA, I’m trying to help one single human being fight for his life? Is Weldon Whitman’s cause not recognized, as you say, because if he ever manages to prove his innocence, the State of California, which sentenced him to death twice, will be made to look utterly ridiculous in the eyes of the rest of the country? Is that what you’re afraid of, gentlemen?”

  “We aren’t afraid of anything, Miss Neller,” the chairman said tolerantly. “And as far as this commission is concerned, the particular type of activity in which you choose to participate is your own co
ncern, so long as it is not illegal and does not in any way infringe upon your responsibilities as a state employee. However, when an activity does infringe on your time to the point where you find it necessary to be absent from your post on a more or less regular basis, then you yourself have put your superiors in a position of having to challenge that activity.”

  “With all due respect to your authority, sir, I simply do not believe that,” Genevieve said firmly. “My participation in the Save Whitman Movement is being challenged because it is the Save Whitman Movement. If it were any other cause, none of us would be here right now.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Miss Neller,” the chairman said in a neutral voice. “I’m sure that nothing I could say would convince you to the contrary; therefore, perhaps it’s best if we proceed in a businesslike manner. Your decision is not to ask for a formal civil-service trial, is that correct?”

  “Yes,” Genevieve said. Her tone lost all semblance of respect and proper demeanor. She now recognized her position: she was facing enemies. Very polite enemies, to be sure, but enemies nevertheless.

  “In that case, this board of commissioners will hereby exercise its legislated authority and decide the issue based on Mr. Hardy’s submitted statement and any evidence you wish to present in defense of his allegation.” Again the chairman paused; again Genevieve remained silent, forcing him to frame a direct question. “Do you wish to make a statement in your own defense?” he asked.

  “There is no defense to this kind of hypocrisy,” Genevieve replied. For just an instant she saw a spark of anger in the chairman’s eyes. It was to be her only victory of the hearing.

  “You leave us no alternative, Miss Neller, but to decide in favor of Mr. Hardy.” He turned briefly to each of his colleagues. “Is there any dissent from that opinion, gentlemen?” Neither commissioner replied in the affirmative, and the chairman said, “Let the record show that the board has voted unanimously to support the state director of education’s petition to discharge Miss Neller, and that she is, by order of the state civil service commission, removed from her position as head librarian of the state law library as of this date …”

  Genevieve chose not to even dignify the decision with attentiveness. As the chairman was talking, she was gathering up her copy of the charges, pushing her chair back, and rising to leave.

  “As to the matter of severance pay,” the chairman continued mechanically, “because of Miss Neller’s eleven-year tenure, she is by statute entitled to severance pay in the amount of sixty days’ salary—” He looked up and saw that Genevieve was preparing to leave the room. “Miss Neller,” he called, “aren’t you interested in your severance pay?”

  Genevieve turned at the door. Her face was pale, her usually pretty mouth tensed into a severe line. She wanted very badly to tell him what he could do with the severance pay; she wanted to say something crude and filthy, something to put just a tint of true, ugly color on the surface politeness of the proceedings. But she had been too genteel and too proper for too long; she lacked the capacity for crassness. Besides, she had a special use for the money.

  “Yes, I’m interested, and I accept the severance pay,” she said in a flat, deliberate voice. “As soon as I receive the check, I intend to donate it to the Save Whitman Movement. It will be put to very good use—to help save Weldon Whitman from the gas chamber!”

  She walked out of the hearing room. But, out of habit, she closed the door quietly behind her.

  Two days later, Genevieve Neller went to see Weldon Whitman for the first time.

  The visit was widely covered by the California press. Through Cloud and the editor of the Sacramento Independent News, the story of Genevieve’s dismissal had made state wire services. The preliminary news stories broke first:

  LIBRARIAN FIRED FOR

  AIDING DOOMED CONVICT

  STATE FIRES WOMAN

  WHO RAISED MONEY

  FOR DEATH ROW INMATE

  FRIEND OF SPOTLIGHT BANDIT

  DISMISSED BY STATE BOARD

  They were followed the next day by interviews at Genevieve’s apartment.

  “Miss Neller, are you angry about losing your job? Do you feel you’ve been treated unfairly?”

  “I’m more disappointed than angry,” she answered. “For eleven years I felt proud to be a part of the state government. Now that pride has been destroyed.”

  “Miss Neller, a spokesman for the civil service commission has stated that it would be inconsistent with good government to pay prosecutors to put Whitman on Death Row, and then allow you, on state time, to try to get him out. How do you feel about that?”

  “I should think,” Genevieve said firmly, “that the state’s first interest would be justice, however it came about.”

  “Is it true that you’ve never met Whitman?”

  “Yes, it’s true. I will meet Mr. Whitman in person for the first time at two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Would you have any objection to the press being there?”

  “I have no objections if Mr. Whitman has none. There are authorities involved who might object, however.”

  “We’ll handle the authorities, Miss Neller,” one veteran newsman commented. A few of the reporters laughed briefly.

  “Do you intend to appeal your dismissal to a court of law, Miss Neller?”

  Genevieve thought about it for a moment, then shook her head determinedly. “I don’t believe that I am mentally or psychologically capable of carrying on campaigns against two separate injustices at once. And since the injustice being perpetrated against Mr. Whitman is far more serious, I will concentrate on his situation instead of my own.”

  Accompanied by Cloud, Genevieve arrived at San Quentin the following afternoon and was escorted by the deputy warden to the Condemned Building. When she stepped out of the elevator into the Death Row visiting room, she found that she was again facing a battery of newsmen and photographers. Strobe lights began to flash immediately.

  “If you have any objection to the press being here,” the deputy warden said almost hopefully, “we can clear the room. You have the right to a private visit.”

  “That’s perfectly all right,” Genevieve said, “I have nothing to hide from the press, and I’m certain Mr. Whitman doesn’t.” Her voice was cool. She had already begun to develop a feeling of resentment toward the keepers of authority.

  More strobes flashed. There were a few obvious questions calling for obvious answers.

  “Is this your first visit to a prison, Miss Neller?”

  “Yes. But I don’t imagine it will be my last.”

  “What’s your impression of San Quentin, Miss Neller?”

  “I feel that it must be very lonely,” she said quietly. “Despite the hundreds of people it contains, I’m sure that it’s a terribly lonely place.” She turned to Cloud and whispered, “Where is he?”

  “He’ll be here in a minute,” Cloud whispered back. “They have to bring him down from upstairs. Let’s sit down,” he said, guiding her to the midway point of the long visitors’ table.

  “My dress didn’t get wrinkled in the car, did it?”

  “You look great,” Cloud assured her.

  Genevieve hoped she looked all right. God knows she had tried hard enough. The neckline of her A-style navy dress was square-cut with a very narrow white trim; it showed her bustline to the best advantage possible without accentuating her plumpness. The sleeves of the dress were long, the white trim repeated at the cuffs; her upper arms were slightly constricted, but she did not care because the sleeves made them look thinner. Nervously she patted at her upper lip.

  She looked up, startled, when the prisoner elevator opened and Weldon Whitman came into the room. He looked almost sporty in clean, starched denim, his shirt open an extra button at the throat, sleeve cuffs turned under, military fashion. Smiling, he walked directly toward Genevieve. She and Cloud rose to meet him.

  Strobe lights began flashing as the cameramen moved in on them. Genev
ieve smiled back at the condemned man across the table.

  “Hello, Weldon. It’s nice to meet you at last.”

  “Hello,” Whitman said awkwardly. “I’m sorry about your job.”

  Genevieve shrugged. “There are worse things in life than losing a job. I was happy to hear about your stay.”

  He nodded and grinned. “That makes two of us.” “Three,” Robert Cloud interjected.

  Whitman’s grin widened. “Yeah, that’s right. We’re getting to be a regular army, aren’t we?” He hooked his thumbs in the beltless loops of his trousers and looked at Genevieve again. At the first lull in their conversation, the reporters began firing questions.

  “How do you feel meeting Miss Neller for the first time, Whitman?”

  “Terrific,” the condemned man answered. “She’s much prettier than the pictures you guys had in the papers yesterday.” He looked at Genevieve and she blushed slightly.

  “Will you comment on Miss Neller’s decision to forgo appealing her own case in order to continue working in your cause?”

  “Yes, I’ll comment on that,” Whitman said. His expression became serious. “I am very grateful to Miss Neller for her support, but it is not my desire that she continue to help me at the expense of her career. One of the main things I intend to do today, when we talk privately, is try and convince her to fight what the government of this state has done to her—”

  “No, I won’t change my mind on that,” Genevieve said when the newsmen instinctively turned to her. “I’m going to dedicate my full time for as long as possible to the fight to save Weldon Whitman from the gas chamber.”

  “Are you doing it because you think he’s innocent, Miss Neller? Or because you think his sentence is too severe even if he’s guilty?”

  Genevieve looked deeply into Weldon Whitman’s eyes. “Because I think he’s innocent,” she said quietly.

  “This is a very courageous lady, gentlemen,” said Weldon Whitman. “I hope your stories will do her justice. Now I wonder if we could go over here by ourselves for a few minutes—”