Lay Of The Land

Mary Semans died this morning, a passing that marks the loss of a powerful force wrapped in one of the tiniest bodies you’ll ever see. Mrs. Semans couldn’t have been more than 4-feet-10 inches tall. By the time she died today at Duke Hospital, she was rail thin. But make no mistake: The swath she cut in North Carolina and beyond was spectacularly large.

In Durham, Mrs. Semans, 91, was known for many things that would make any good citizen proud. For me, however, I will always remember that she was one of the last remaining direct descendants of the famous family for which Duke University is named. While so many other family members chose to live elsewhere, Mrs. Semans chose to stay in Durham. Of course, she had the means to reside anywhere in the world, but she didn’t. She liked it here in Durham. And that helped some of us in Durham feel better when our oft-maligned city was taking a beating.

Long a generous supporter of the arts, Mrs. Semans also accomplished important and courageous things earlier in her long and meaningful life. She was a strong and influential voice for progressive change during the Civil Rights Movement, at a time when so many Southerners were afraid to speak out. She was an early and effective supporter of women’s rights, a special and lasting passion for her. She was a woman not only of strength, kindness and commitment, but also bravery. She had an admirable sense of duty to give back to her community, something she continued doing until the very end.

Some of us who have lived in Durham a long time, and who were lucky enough to know Mrs. Semans, enjoyed calling her “Mary DBT,” a fond reference to her heritage that followed her even after she married Dr. Jim Semans, who died a few years ago. When Mrs. Semans lost him, some of us wondered how long she, herself, might hold on.

But hold on she did. Until relatively recently, I’d run into her while she did her own shopping at the Harris-Teeter on MLK Boulevard, always accompanied by a loyal assistant. She regularly greeted me with a smile and a hug, a grasp from such a small woman I sometimes barely felt it. Remarkable to me was that she continued offering this reception even when the years began to mount and I wasn’t sure she always fully recognized me.

Mrs. Semans was certainly fond of her routines. As evidence, I offer this: During the past few years, she ate lunch at the Guglhupf Bakery nearly every day. Literally. Every weekday and sometimes on weekends.

I can’t count how many times I’ve paused to look up at her wondrous family home on Forest Hills Drive. The majestic Tudor with pink highlights on the trim, is palatial, the sort of dwelling that demands a formal name. And it has one: “Pinecrest.” The grounds, especially in the rear, are like something you might see at an ancient European villa. Obscured from the street by the house, the back gardens are sprawling and serene, a glimpse into another lifetime. The grounds encompass virtually an entire city block. At some point, she and Dr. Semans decided to move, full time, into another home on the same property, a more contemporary place that required less upkeep. “A more modest place,” she once told me. “It’s more practical and we can manage things easier.” Smaller yes, but the newer house is not exactly a hovel. It also has stature enough for a name, which it eventually received: “Les Terrasses.”

The Duke community lost a matriarch today. Durham lost a leader of uncommon influence and kindness, the kind who comes along rarely, perhaps a few times each generation. Others lost a friend. I might not have known her as well as some. I never dined in her home. We didn’t exchange Christmas cards. But she never allowed you to feel like you were merely an acquaintance, even if that’s exactly what we were. She had a knack for making people feel special. She glowed. And it rubbed off.

So that’s a snapshot of the Mrs. Semans I knew. And that’s how I’ll remember her — as a friend. It’s funny: I already miss her, that eensy giant of a woman. The word of her death hit me harder than I might have imagined. When I heard the news, I looked at my arms in time to see goose-bumps rising and my hair perking up. I was really moved. In my book, it doesn’t get much better than that.

I was just watching a live news conference held by Joe Amendola, the chief defense attorney for Jerry Sandusky, the Penn State assistant football coach charged with molesting young boys. So far, this case is so heinous and disturbing that most people seem to believe Sandusky is guilty, even though he’s not yet had his day in court. I must admit, I too have felt outrage and disgust as this case has unfolded.

But today, while watching Sandusky’s experienced and dogged defense attorney answered question after question from a mob of reporters, I was reminded of a few important points: First, I always advocate openness, honesty and cooperation for all my clients, even if they’re suffering under the glaring eye of the national media. The worst thing someone in such a position can do is use the ‘No Comment’ defense. “No Comment” nearly always translates into one thing: “I’m hiding something and, therefore, I’m guilty.” That may not be fair, but that’s how it works. I never allow my clients to do that. Never have, never will. Amendola seems to understand this. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a defense attorney engage in such a conversation with reporters, all of it being broadcast nationally and live.

Amendola’s tirade also reminded me of some absolute fundamentals on which our justice system is based. When defendants are surrounded by the skeptical media — along with blinding, billowing smoke — that doesn’t mean they’re guilty. It’s hard for many to see that, but it’s true. Sandusky certainly appears guilty, but how could I possibly know? That’s the point isn’t it?

I’m reminded of the Duke lacrosse case. In the days following charges against the Duke students, most everyone seemed to believe the lacrosse players were guilty. The woman who had allegedly been assaulted, for some reason, seemed to become a credible accuser. The DA then, Mike Nifong, fueled the fire with his public insistence that the players were guilty, even recounting, through physical re-enactment, how he had become certain a crime had been committed. Still, the lawyers representing the players stood firm, even when they faced ridicule by some. Wade Smith, Joe Cheshire and Kerry Sutton never gave up on their clients. They insisted on their innocence even when many, including myself, had doubts. Now we all know the Duke students were innocent. Now their once ‘”credible” accuser is embroiled in a murder case that could land her in jail for a long, long time. Innocent until proven guilty? You’re damn right.

The lesson? It may sound trite, but it’s true: Americans charged with crimes are not guilty until proven otherwise — or admit their guilt. We can’t forget that. Ours is a judicial system that’s served our country well for more than 200 years.

Is Jerry Sandusky guilty? Maybe. Seems like it to me. There’s a ton of smoke pouring from this case. Still, I’m trying as hard as possible to keep an open mind. Let’s allow the system to do its job. Let’s not pass judgment until it has. As difficult as this might be, it’s the right attitude. And we should all, difficult or not, think this way.

Regular followers of this blog know I don’t typically endorse individual candidates. I did it for my friend Steve Schewel when he ran, successfully, for Durham City Council not long ago. Now I am doing it for Kerry Sutton. She also is my friend. More important, she’s exactly the kind of person we need in the North Carolina General Assembly. She’s dogged, honest, smart, dedicated and among the hardest-working people I know. I’m thoroughly convinced that North Carolina will be better off with her in the state Senate. I’m including the release we used to announce her campaign. You can also read about the campaign on various blogs flying here and there online. Go Kerry!

FOR RELEASE

KERRY SUTTON COMMITTEE

DATE: Nov. 30, 2011

CONTACT: Kerry Sutton, (919) 886-6597;  George Lawrence, (919) 452-6086

Durham attorney Kerry Sutton announced Wednesday she will seek the District 22 state Senate seat representing a significant portion of Durham County and all of Person and Caswell counties.

Sutton, a Democrat, is well known for her record of community service as well her work in the courtroom. She plans to file state Board of Elections paperwork to formally establish her election committee Thursday. She already has heard from voters.

“I’m humbled to know citizens believe in me,” she said. “I’m confident I can get this job done. Otherwise I wouldn’t run.”

Sutton, 50, gained national attention as a member of the legal defense team representing a group of Duke University lacrosse players wrongly accused in a sexual assault case in 2006. Her client, along with his teammates, was cleared of all allegations.

Sutton has served the state in various ways throughout her career. In 2009, Gov. Bev Perdue appointed her to the Governor’s Crime Commission, the chief advisory body to the governor and the Secretary of the Department of Crime Control and Public Safety on crime and justice issues. She has long been an active leader and is a former Board of Governors member for the N.C. Advocates for Justice.

State Sen. Floyd McKissick Jr., an incumbent Democrat who represents the majority of Durham’s city core, was pleased to hear the news.

“We need a Democrat in that district and I would be delighted to serve alongside Kerry Sutton,” he said.

Like all 50 of the state’s Senate seats, District 22 was newly drawn as part of a redistricting plan initiated by Republican legislative leadership earlier this year. The entire proposal has been legally challenged by multiple groups that argue the plan was designed to limit minority voting while giving Republicans unfair advantage in future elections. The issue will be decided by a panel of three Superior Court judges, which has yet to set a time frame for its decision.

It almost got to be tiring for a while. This was several months ago, of course. Over and over, it was the same refrain: “When the economy comes back ….”

Well folks, I’m no economist, but I do operate a small business. Which, these days, seems to qualify me to theorize about where things are headed. Point is, I don’t think the economy is coming back. At least not the economy we once knew.

It was good to see the Dow pop back up the past few days, but how long will it last? I’m afraid to guess. What should we do with our investments? Our retirement accounts. I’m afraid to venture much of a guess about that too.

One thing I will say with confidence is that things have changed for good. We aren’t going back. And the economy isn’t either. I want to be clear that I’m not saying we can’t become a more prosperous and healthy nation again. We can. I suspect we will.

Thing is, it’s going to be different. Vastly different. The high unemployment rate suggests to me that big business is not hiring right now. It also suggests to me that more and more people are going it alone. Increasingly, this feels like a place where it’s everybody for his or her self. It’s an entrepreneurial world, right?

The next several months will tell us a lot, I believe. By the time the holidays are over and we roll into 2012, I’m going to be making some big decisions. If not sooner.
Everyone on their own? That’s a cruel idea. But damn, it’s tough out there. Guess we’d better get used to it.

I don’t typically use this forum to plug individual candidates, but I’m making an exception in this case because it’s so important: Steve Schewel is running for Durham City Council. We need him. And we need him badly.

Durham has made remarkable strides in recent years. Take a quick look downtown for evidence of that progress. The American Tobacco complex alone is phenomenal. In general, downtown Durham is the go-to spot in the Triangle these days. Only a few years ago it was moribund. How rapidly things can change with a little wisdom, vision and guts among those in a position to make the big decisions.

But there’s more to Durham than downtown revitalization. Issues such as our ability to balance rapid growth with fundamental quality-of-life issues are absolutely critical. Steve is convinced this is one of the top priorities facing our city today — and he is right.

Steve, who among other achievements founded and operates the Independent Weekly and has served on the Durham School Board, believes it is essential to make our city functional, economically vital and enjoyable for all residents. He is correct to believe that we must consider the needs of a broader range of residents, not simply those who have the means to catch a Bulls game, by whim, any given night, then hit Tyler’s Tap Room afterward for a few apps and a beer.

I believe significant issues such as the merging of city and county services also must continue to receive close scrutiny. Addressing the duplication of some of these services could reflect big savings for our community. Why has so little happened in this area recently?

Of course, crime remains an issue, although it’s not the problem it once was. And it certainly is not the problem our neighbors in Raleigh, Chapel Hill and elsewhere would have people believe. Violent crime in Durham is actually down. Property crime is up. But it’s property crime that touches the lives of most people. We must continue to improve in this area. Steve knows this and wants to help bring about change.

City dwellers still pay relatively high taxes. Are we getting our money’s worth? Can’t we have more serious, intelligent debate about these needs? There must be alternatives. It’s complex stuff — balanced delicately with the need for growth and management of development — but it’s the kind of issue we must face as a community head on. That is the kind of leader Steve Schewel is. And in my book, it doesn’t get more basic than that.

Finally, during the past decade, watching City Council meetings has at times resembled old Laurel and Hardy sketches. But I can say the following with utter confidence: Steve Schewel is no Laurel. He’s no Hardy. He’s a smart, committed citizen who, if elected, will work his rear end off to make Durham a better place to live. If you know Steve, this is something you already understand . If you don’t know him, you should. Steve is the kind of person who wants to leave a better place behind when he’s gone. That’s the nut, isn’t it? What more could one ask for?

The deer we encounter each morning as my son and I head through northern Durham County to his river camp on the Eno are fearless. Literally. At least when it comes to humans and cars.

Each morning, as we wind our way through the surprisingly full, green countryside that leads to the river, we come upon a herd of deer at the very same spot, every single morning. Across the little paved road sit two tidy homes accompanied by large, handsome gardens that are already bountiful, certainly for early July. Surrounding these gardens are tall fences, poles and nets, patched together with obvious care using chicken wire and other materials aimed at keeping the deer from making regular meals of the veggies inside.

Yesterday we counted six deer, including does, bucks and a nice little fawn still splashed with its spring-birth spots of white that signal it as a yearling. Today it was 11.

These guys barely raise an eyebrow as we cruise by. We’ve even had to honk the horn to clear a path. This morning a big, plump doe, clearly well fed, even began approaching our vehicle when we stopped to say good morning. (Where were these deer when I hunted such animals on a more regular basis?)

Here’s the kicker: It turns out the folks in these houses, the same people who tend the impressive gardens, are feeding the deer with massive quantities of corn, apples and other goodies. They’ve been doing it for years, meaning generations of deer have grown accustomed to the ritual. The humans do this not to be kind, although surely the deer appreciate the food. Instead, the daily feedings are a piece with their attempts to keep the deer from their veggies.

After trying to fend off the deer for years, met with constant futility, one of the gardeners came up with an alternate approach. Instead of working endlessly to keep the deer out, why not simply make them so full, so satisfied with the food in their bellies, that they won’t care about the gardens. Apparently it works. At least better than the fencing alone. So in the end, these deer are part wildlife, part pets and part recovering garden marauders.

One problem: The more food the humans provide, of course, the more breakfast guests they receive. I’m told the owners of these two homes alone spend upwards of $75 a month on deer grub. Now that we’d been provided the back story, my boy and I figured this morning’s especially friendly doe simply missed the omelet station today and was still up for a snack.

For these clever humans, $75 a month must be worth the luxury of being able to pick their supper from their own yards. If one happens to be a vegetarian, I suppose one could live this way forever. And if you happen to be a carnivore, fret not. Don’t forget: There are always the deer.

I began reading Cormac McCarthy a few decades ago — or maybe more. I suppose it was the splash of ‘All The Pretty Horses’ that got me. I then read the rest of that trilogy. And that was it. I was hooked. Since then, I’ve read pretty much everything the man has written. Including ‘The Road.’

Of course, ‘The Road’ is a remarkable book. McCarthy is always intense, but ‘The Road’ is fierce even by his standards. Then they made a movie based on it. I tend to hesitate to see films based on books I genuinely respect. But I finally watched ‘The Road.’ Simultaneously riveting, scary as hell and, honestly, gut-wrenching. But it’s a must for those who genuinely worry about the environment and what we’re doing to the planet.

Now this: Al Gore pops up with one of the best pieces in a while in Rolling Stone. Not that Rolling Stone has lost all its relevance. Far from it. In fact, the work done by the young star reporters at RS, most notably Matt Taibbi, rivals anything out there. Gore, whether you like it or not, has been right about the environment all along. Doesn’t matter what your political views are. If you can’t admit Big Al started ringing the alarm bell about as early as anyone else of his stature, you’re missing something.

Gore came up with this in the current issue of RS: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/climate-of-denial-20110622.

I’m not sure why, but it seems to me that a lot of people roll their eyes at anything attached to Al’s name. He’s often still the butt of jokes. Good ol’ Al. Ha. Ha. Ha. He’s a hoot, huh?

Enough already. The man may not have been presidential material — oh wait, he did actually win that one, right? — but he’s been Johnny On The Spot on environmental issues and more than a few others.

Read the Rolling Stone piece. Watch the film, ‘The Road.’ Read McCarthy’s book. Then we can talk about what, in the vast scheme of things, is important and not.

Yeah, I guess you could say I’m on a high horse today. Why not?

Fresh back from a quick dog walk. Everything still squishy from the downpours of last night, when large drops fell so hard we couldn’t see our neighbor’s home across the street. This morning we measured two inches, which had come down in what seemed like no time at all.

When the pup and I head out, we stop to remove a large tree limb that  has come down with the rain and landed on our driveway. The oak feels dense enough to drag to the wood pile, later today, just for safe keeping. Down the hill, as we step off the pavement and onto the trail, the soil slurps its way over my sandals and onto my feet, so wet it oozes through my toes. Not what I had in mind, though the walk is restful and welcome for body and soul. The pup doesn’t seem to care, darting into overgrown foliage still dripping and light-catching from the showers, sniffing about and doing important business. At an open and shady spot where there also lie tons of pine shavings and mulch, we come upon a giant mushroom field. All manner of varieties, sitting there so quiet. Big, plump, fresh, tempting. Feels like a rainforest.

Many of the fungi appear harmless, much like those we see in markets. But we dare not pick. Years ago, a friend thought he knew what he was doing and collected his own. Soon he was in the ER puking his guts out. If you aren’t an expert, leave those wild mushrooms alone.

Soggy, soggy morning. With temperatures sure to rise above 90, the humidity will be intolerable in short time. Yes, we need such rain to avoid summer drought. Still, my view stands firm: Once we’ve had our fireworks and the calendar proclaims Independence Day gone, we should all punch fast forward. As I sit here on July 5, I am more than ready for fall. The rest of July and  August here in North Carolina is meant only for snakes, mosquitoes and masochists.

Our family is fortunate to live in a neighborhood that not only has a listserve, but one that flames red hot with use pretty much all day long. Usually it’s very helpful: Lost Cat. Suspicious vehicle on a certain street. Is it recycling day? Community coming up soon. Power is out but Duke Power vows to have it back on by noon.

Lately we’ve been telling stories about what some of us know about our homes, to help build more history about this wonderful part of Durham. I recently provided a snippet with the promise of more to come:

As a prelude, we live in Duke Forest, literally walking distance to West Campus. On big football Saturdays (don’t laugh) cars park in front of our home. The property once was part of famous Duke Forest, a research forest reserved for ecology and study. In the early 1940s Duke decided to aggressively elevate its status as a national university, so the school went looking for top faculty to lure from Ivy schools and, for the medical school in particular, Johns Hopkins. They had the money. The deals were going well. Then, often at the last stages, the faculty recruits would complain there was not enough suitable housing adjacent to campus. At older East Campus, Trinity Park was created for just this reason. But at newer West Campus, the Gothic heart of campus where the chapel and Cameron Indoor Stadium reside, there were no such homes. So the university took hundreds and hundreds of acres from Duke Forest, the parts that were closest to campus, and chopped them into large wooded lots. When the recruiting got down to the final detais, Duke would throw in a free lot, or at least offer one at a very low price. It worked. Duke’s reputation soared. And our neighborhood, Duke Forest, began to take shape.

Our place was one of the first on Perkins, circa 1949, custom built for Frank Bowers who had come to Durham from Pa. to play football for Wallace Wade back when Duke was a power. In fact, he played in the only Rose Bowl ever held outside Pasadena in 1942, when the game was held here because of the recent bombing of Pearl Harbor. No one wanted to take the chance of putting 80,000 people in a single locale on the West Coast in case the Japanese tried it again. Bowers graduated, then turned down offers to play in the NFL. He married, took a job at Duke and eventually rose high enough to secure this lot and build this house. He retired as Sr. VP for Buildings and Grounds. They never had kids. But our lot is elaborate and demanding with landscaping, especially in the back. When we bought it 18 years ago there was no back yard, just ivy and brush. It was a huge job to clear it out and create a lawn and a genuine place to use and enjoy. Once we began the project, we immediately began finding all sorts of stone retaining walls and patios, all made from the famous Duke stone they keep on hand to patch the chapel etc. Found beautiful bushes and other plants that had been carefully laid out throughout the yard, but then had become smothered by ivy. Most of those have come back now.

HILTON GARDEN, KITTY HAWK — Despite the economy, people don’t seem to be avoiding the coast in North Carolina this summer, at least on the Outer Banks. During the past few weeks, traffic has been heavy, the beaches full and restaurants jammed.

When my son and I moved from Sterling Webster’s fine Hilton Garden Inn just up the beach to Southern Shores, into the family home we call the “Big House,” we joined other family members and began doing more cooking at home. Good thing: When we did try to go out, the lines were very long — and many restaurants on the Outer Banks do not take reservations.

Given these challenging circumstances, my erstwhile brother-in-law from Richmond, Va., R.C. Hall, and I resorted to our tedious, demanding and highly laborious ritual of hitting the beach roads each afternoon in search of the freshest tuna. (I jest, of course: We attack this assignment with the enthusiasm of kids on Christmas.) Once the tuna is discovered, the next step is to give it a sniff and a gentle poke with your index finger. If you notice any sort of questionable fishy odor, you should raise an eyebrow. When you press with your finger, you should expect a soft, gentle texture that recovers from your jab rapidly. Instead, if the surface is somewhat firm and the small indention created by your finger remains a while, the fish is not especially fresh. Keep hunting. When you find the good stuff, I prefer to get what some call sashimi grade, which is said to be fresher and more delicate than even sushi grade.

Although R.C. and I somehow have been able to hide this secret for years, it’s now well known now that we aggressively overbuy our tuna. We cook on a grill, of course, attempting to provide the entire group with tuna steaks ranging from rare to medium. We also take three extra steaks or so and place them at the back of the grill. We let those cook slowly until fully done. They must stay moist. And we work hard to leave these out of sight. When the post-meal cleaning is finished, we take the extras, put them in a large ziplock bag and hide them deep in the back of the refrigerator.

The next morning, perhaps when no one else is looking, R.C. slips into the kitchen, grabs a large mixing bowl, the extra tuna, some mayo, a little salt and pepper and the ultimate secret ingredient: dill, hopefully fresh. Mix it all up, careful not to overdo the mayo. Careful with the spices too. The spectacular tuna flavor is what you want coming through. Add the salt, pepper and dill, tasting as you go. Again, do not overwhelm the sweet, delicate flavor of this fine tuna. When finished, pile the salad high on a piece of lightly toasted wheat bread and top it with another slice. If you want to add more mayo, no harm there. Take a bite and savor. If you need a tad more of this or that, go for it. But do it in moderation. This is one concoction you do not want to ruin. At this point, I guarantee you will never again be interested in tuna salad from a can or pouch.

Despite all the recent growth, there remain many things to do in the Nags Head area, just as always. The surf is still among the roughest, most unpredictable and fascinating in the world. The traffic has gotten nuts. Prices have risen. But the fish … the fish remains fresh and bountiful. And if you put a little time into it, you can create something heavenly to eat, plucked from the ocean just outside your door, hopefully that very same day. Remember, this part of the Atlantic is known for claiming so many ships, dating back centuries. These are the same waters where Blackbeard once reigned. The same waters that remain chilly into July. The same waters that can provide fish that have potential to change your views about a lot of things, certainly tuna salad, for the rest of your life.