Where I Stand — Brian Greenspun: Leave the wife out of it

Friday, May 31, 2002 | 5:04 a.m.

THERE IS AN old adage in the newspaper business that warns the vain among us: never take a picture with a beautiful woman and never, ever take a picture with a cute little animal. The results of such folly are self-evident; nobody ever recognizes that ugly guy in the picture.

There is another adage that is appropriate for today's column: if you have a beef with a fellow, have at him, but leave his wife and family out of the fight. On that subject, I am an expert.

My most recent experiences with such a violation involves the Review-Journal and its publisher, Sherm Frederick, who for some reason I cannot fathom, has turned his editor loose to do his damnedest to make me look bad. As if I need any help in that regard!

Not too long ago, Sherm, in his quest to do me continuing injury, published a story he knew was untrue that intimated that my wife, Myra, tried to bribe a judge in this town. It was absurd on its face, untrue to the max, and reflected more on the pettiness of the people who run that paper than on anything of substance. You can imagine how hot I was, though, when I read that drivel. What human being wouldn't be? I wanted to sue them for the rest of their lives. Of course, I thought better of it, thinking they would realize how wrong and unethical they were and apologize. I was wrong. To this day those bums down the street have refused to acknowledge how hurtful they were and how far out of bounds they went trying to get at me.

And, as if that wasn't bad enough, just a couple of weeks ago, Sherm loosed his henchman again, this time to denigrate the memory of my father, Hank Greenspun, in an attempt to hurt me. And on Mother's Day he threw my mother into the slime for added measure. Have you no shame, Sherm?

I mention this only to set the scene for what I really want to talk about. And that is a column written by Jon Ralston in last week's Sun. I told Jon I think it was one of the best he has ever written. Just read these two paragraphs that set the tone:

"We live in a place where who will win election to the state's highest elected position is more certain than in some Third World countries; where the city's most prominent politician shills for a gin company and funnels the proceeds to his wife's prestigious private school while public education withers; and where pregnant women can't find doctors while the political elites fret more about who might file against them tomorrow than what their responsibility might be to fix the crisis.

"Against that dark backdrop looms the possibility of labor strife that could decimate an already rickety economy, as gaming chiefs harvest the bitter fruits of their harsh miens during post 9/11 layoffs and labor bosses stir their workers into fighting for health care plans that some millionaires don't have."

Stronger language followed.

By now you should know who did what and why. If not, I will tell you that Las Vegas' never-at-a-loss-for-words Mayor Oscar Goodman was sputtering because Jon referred to Oscar's wife, Carolyn, in the context of the mayor's ginned-up contribution to the Meadows School, which everyone knows is, and will forever be, Carolyn Goodman's. Ralston's reference, though, no matter how benign it was -- and it was -- pushed the husband button and let loose a series of events worthy of a former defense counsel.

To quickly sum up the situation, Mayor Oscar likes his gin. Beefeater, his drink of choice for most of his adult life, offered to pay him a tidy sum to promote the brand. Oscar thought it was a good idea and decided that the city -- always in need of money -- would be a good charitable recipient of the funds. Beefeater turned cheap and Bombay, with a strong push from liquor and wine maestro Larry Ruvo, stepped up to the plate. The deal, though, contemplated $50,000 to the city and $50,000 to one of Larry's favorite charitable endeavors -- among very, very many -- the Meadows School.

When the deal was announced, Ralston quite appropriately questioned: 1) the advisability of the mayor shilling for any liquor company, and 2) the appropriateness of hizzoner giving so much money to his "wife's school" when so many public schools are so wanting. Both responsible areas of inquiry.

However, Oscar could see no rationality once Carolyn was brought into the fray, and that brings us to today.

For the record, my wife and I were among a handful of people who, along with Oscar and Carolyn, started the Meadows School, which is one of Nevada's proudest achievements. I interview dozens of young people seeking higher education and without fail, the Meadows graduates are at the top of that most impressive heap of college-bound students. The best start in the world, though, is doomed to failure unless there is one person at the helm who is dedicated far beyond any economic or professional challenge. That person for the Meadows has always been Carolyn Goodman, who has never been paid -- in fact, her job is a net financial loser and always has been -- and who has never sought the job for professional recognition.

Carolyn's commitment to the excellence of the Meadows is about passion. A passion for learning and achieving, and a passion she sees in young people who want to better themselves through education. It is as simple as that. And if a school and a person were ever synonymous, it is The Meadows and Carolyn.

Because it was his wife, I am certain Oscar could not get the import of Jon's column which was, even if sending underprivileged but academically worthy children to one of the best schools in the country is a good thing, the mayor should have thought twice before bringing his wife's school into the mix. Especially when it was mixed with gin.

So, for my money, I'll stick with Jon and I will recommend a medal for Carolyn.

For my friend, Oscar? How about a muzzle?