ARCHIVES: "PEOPLE WALKING ON EGGSHELLS," by Chunk Wheeler

By all accounts, Raghu is a difficult man to work with or, especially, under.

Consider the case of the now-retired Leann Cribb, formerly an executive secretary, and a beloved and respected employee. Cribb had occasion to work for Raghu when he served as Chair of his School. Later, working for the Office of Instruction, she took notes for Instructional Council meetings—including the now-famous meeting in which Mathur was formally censured for lying.

Cribb found Raghu’s treatment of her to be sufficiently egregious that, finally, on August 3, 1995, she lodged a formal complaint against him. She wrote:

The following memorandum is a complaint I am making about Mr. Raghu Mathur. I realize the gravity of my actions, but please understand that I have carefully considered my case, and I have documented Mr. Mathur’s egregious behavior toward me for the past six years….

As the secretary for the Office of Instruction, I take the minutes of the Instructional Council. At the July 18 Instructional Council meeting, I distributed the minutes from the July 11 meeting. During the meeting, Raghu Mathur announced that he wanted the minutes from July 11 changed. During the course of his request, Mr. Mathur stated that he felt the minutes were biased against him and were written to make him look bad … After the meeting, I went back to check my notes from the July 11 meeting and confirmed for myself that the changes he requested were exactly opposite to what I had written during the July 11 meeting and to my recollection….

Mr. Mathur did not attend the next Instructional Council meeting on July 25. During the August 1 meeting, he raised the question of why the revised July 11 minutes had not been distributed. He then continued on an angry tirade accusing the Office of Instruction of manipulating the minutes to make him look bad … He stated that the minutes were written with a bias against him and that the information in the minutes was not accurate. His comments are a direct attack on my competency as well as on my character. Although I realize that I am not the primary target of Mr. Mathur’s diatribe in this instance, I was embarrassed and humiliated in front of the entire Instructional Council by his false accusations.

I resent Mr. Mathur’s assertion that I, and my colleagues, manipulate information to portray him in a bad light. Manipulating the minutes of an Instructional Council meeting would be an inexcusable breach of ethics and should be grounds for a reprimand or dismissal. This is not the first time Mr. Mathur has manufactured lies to get me fired….

This attack on me is the latest in a series of attacks that began with my tenure in the School of Physical Sciences and Technologies. During my time there, Mr. Mathur told me that I was incompetent on more than one occasion. He also attacked me personally by accusing me of behaving inappropriately while serving on a hiring committee. He reported this “inappropriate” behavior to the President of the college. Although I asked him several times to specify what the inappropriate behavior was, I was never informed of what I had done to warrant being reported to the President and humiliated in front of the committee. I was so disturbed by his mistreatment, I have kept notes on several of these instances for my records, dating back to August 1989.

To be clear: Mr. Mathur routinely revises facts and manufactures innuendo to suit his objectives. He does this at the expense of employees like me who are merely doing their job…..

Of course, there have been other complaints against Raghu. At one point, he was even reprimanded by the college President for failing to get along with others (and for violating a federal law by distributing a student’s transcripts in an attempt to discredit a VP).

—But let’s get back to those who work under him. Consider the case of Bevin Zandvliet, who, for a brief period, served as Raghu’s PIO. She couldn’t stand the guy, so she quit. According to the Register,

Irvine Valley College’s new spokeswoman has left after just one month, saying she was asked to present the public with a view of the embattled college that was tantamount to lying.

Bevin Zandvliet said she repeatedly asked college President Raghu Mathur for information about campus protests, lawsuits aimed at the administration, and controversy over the school’s accreditation, but she was rebuffed.

“I was told that there were some things I was not to focus on,” she said. “From my own research, old files and press clippings I got a picture of an administration that was doing some things that I don’t think I could represent without violating my own ethics.”

…Professors say they have been locked out of decision-making and that those who don’t go along with Mathur are called into his office, yelled at and often written up. Mathur, on the other hand, says he has an “open-door policy” and has worked hard to include faculty, staff and students in decisions.

Zandvliet said that during her four weeks at Irvine Valley, that’s not what she saw.

“People are walking on eggshells around there,” she said. “He said he has an open-door policy and that he believes in communication, but I didn’t see it.” (OC Register 9/25/98)

—CW)

ARCHIVES: hypocrisy unmatched, 9/00

AS A HYPOCRITE, RAGHU KNOWS NO EQUAL!

By Big Bill

THE OLD GUARD SINGS RAGHU’S PRAISES: Board Meeting, August ’97

Tony Garcia: …[Raghu is] a courageous moralist who has confronted many of the ills of the north campus despite the vitriolic invectives and hollow protestations that he has encountered to condemn the obscene and immoral practice of release time…Release time has become one of the great scandals of academia…which is the root of the majority of our evils…I’d like to thank Dr. Mathur for his fortitude in confronting this specific problem. The community should erect a statue to him for his courage. The people that you see at Board meetings and read about in the Times condemning his actions you would find on the Who’s Who list of release time usurpers [Sherry Miller-White interjects: “Amen!”], if you were privy to it. Now you see the picture. [8/97, Board Meeting]

Bill Heffernan:…Reassigned time is really a euphemism for faculty welfare and has turned our college into a playground for spoiled children—not our students, but a few faculty who want to teach courses—two courses, not five courses as they were hired to do. Some of us—and that includes Raghu—say this scandalous system for the favored few is over. If you were hired to teach, it is time to teach. [8/97, Board Meeting]

Jan Horn: My name is Jan Horn…Raghu Mathur is being hailed as a hero for his tough stance against reassigned time and his tough decisions to cut [it].

His position is new and surprising to those of us who have worked with him for many years prior to his [recent appointment as president of IVC]. Raghu received 60%-80% reassigned time as School Chair for [10] years. In addition, for at least the past three years—possibly four—he received a stipend, equivalent to 6 LHE reassigned time, for his role as Tech Prep Coordinator. So he has had 100%—or close to it—reassigned time for a number of years, and now he and his followers are talking about the disgraces and abuses [of reassigned time]...

Does President Mathur think he did nothing during that job?...

I’d like you to take a look at his load...and then see what he actually did about reassigned time, not what he is saying about it now. [8/97, Board Meeting]

* * * * * * * * *

YEARS LATER, Raghu was still bemoaning the “scandalous” practice of reassigned time—and $100,000+ faculty salaries. In a story the appeared in the Irvine World News (5/27/99), Raghu (who, as an instructor and Chair, did the maximum of overload, making about $120,000 a year) explained that, “In 60 percent of the cases, [Chairs] had reassigned time and then were teaching classes as overload.”

Say it isn’t so!

CODA:

Does Raghu suppose, as do his union pals Garcia and Heffernan, that School Chairs were lazy?

It seems not, for, in a letter to the Chancellor (10/9/89), Raghu, then the Chair of his School, implied that the role of Chair was particularly taxing:

“Different faculty members…serve as school chairs because the position is rotational and it is now their turn to get burned out.”

Burned out? What about all this “playground” and “welfare” guff? I don’t get it.

–BB

Mathur sues Bauer/Burgess but lives to regret it

I’ll start with an excerpt from

MATHUR DISMISSES ANOTHER CHAIR: —But then El Ced comes to the chair’s rescue, and simpers; By Chunk Wheeler [aka Roy Bauer]

[Dissent 51, 9/12/00]

September 1, 2000: it’s 12:45, and I get a cell-phone call from Wendy P [today, she’s Wendy G], who’s been teaching all morning. She tells me that she has just served Raghu Mathur with papers regarding his “Judgment Debtor’s Exam.”

I should explain. You see, back in January of 2000, Mr. Goo filed a suit against Terry Burgess—and me—regarding my reports (in three issues of Dissent) regarding Mathur’s violation of a student’s right to privacy as delineated by a federal law (FERPA). That Mathur had violated that law was, at any rate, the conclusion of the district’s lawyer, Spencer Covert (yes, Covert—I’m not makin’ this stuff up!), who had been asked, by then-IVC president Dan Larios, to provide an opinion on the matter. Ironically, Mathur, a man who can neither detect nor pronounce irony, believes that the Dissent stories amounted to a violation of his privacy rights, and so he sued us for $50,000. According to Mathur, the only way I could have secured the documents I reported on was through the help of Terry Burgess, formerly the VP of Instruction. (That’s nonsense. The documents had been readily available on campus for years.) Thus Burgess was included in the suit.

Unfortunately for the Gooster, the great state of California has a law (the anti-SLAPP statute) designed to protect citizens from lawsuits that are filed by powerful interests—developers, politicians, et al.—merely in order to silence legitimate criticism. SLAPP suits are burdensome annoyances, or worse, for defendants, but they produce a chilling effect on potential criticism by others as well. They thwart free speech.

To make a long story short, we responded to Mathur’s suit by appealing to the anti-SLAPP statute, which yielded a quick dismissal. In court, Judge Brenner noted that my Dissent reports were both true and newsworthy and that, further, there was no evidence whatsoever that Burgess provided the information regarding Mathur that I had reported. In fact, he hadn’t.

As per the law, Brenner ordered Mathur to pay Burgess and me costs and attorneys fees. That amounted to $34,000 and change. Ouch! That occurred months ago.

But, as of this day (Sept. 1), Mathur hasn’t paid. In such situations, the prevailing side files for a “Judgment Debtor Exam.” Once it is granted, the “judgment debtor” is served papers that inform him that he must appear in court on a certain date. “If you fail to appear…you may be subject to arrest and punishment,” say the documents.

On August 29th, Carol Sobel, my attorney, filed for a debtor’s exam for Mathur. The order was granted on that day. So, on this day—the 1st of September—Wendy serves Raghu with the papers:

“Hi Raghu. I’ve got something for you!” chirps Wendy.

He stares but doesn’t move. She hands him the papers, smiling broadly. Eventually, he takes them, glumly thanks her, and then disappears behind the door of his office.

Later, someone tells me that she thinks she heard Mathur crying and banging his head against a chair. But she isn’t sure.

Could be, though. The document orders Mathur to bring 27 kinds of document, including

All checkbooks, registers, and canceled checks for all savings, checking, credit union, bank, mutual fund accounts and/or all other accounts owned by you and/or you and your spouse for the past three years…All payroll check stubs for you and/or your spouse for the past three years…All passbooks for savings, checking, credit union, bank, mutual fund accounts, and/or all other accounts owned by you and/or your spouse for the past three years…All financial statements listing your assets…during the past three years…All stock registers or other records of stocks presently owned by you…All documents evidencing any partnership interest in property owned by you…All credit card applications…Ownership documents…Your state and federal income tax returns for the past thee years…

—and so on. Jeez, I’d cry too. The exam is set for September 19th….

--7-19-00
In the end, Mathur was forced to fork over about $32K (that’s what we settled for).

Mathur turned around and sued the district for not protecting him from me—despite the fact that I sued him only in response to his suing me for reporting a demonstrable fact about his misconduct.

At first, the district simply rejected Mathur’s suit. In the end, however, the trustees gave ‘im about $40K (as I recall) and soon made him Chancellor the district.

Really.

Below are some Dissent stories about our adventures in court in connection with Mathur’s unfortunate suit:

SUIN’ SAFARI!

by Chunk Wheeler [aka Roy Bauer]

[Dissent 46, 3/6/00]

February 29: After lunch, Carol, a friend of hers, Wendy, and I headed for Judge Michael Brenner’s courtroom in Santa Ana. Our hearing was set for 1:30.

We entered the building at about 1:20 and found our way to the elevators, where dozens of besuited lawyers stood around like hamsters, nervously eyeing the elevator doors while intermittently consulting wrist-watches. Even Carol seemed worried. Someone murmured: “Type A personalities.” I said: “Hey, don’t worry, baby! It’s 1:23, and we’ve got all the time in the world!”

Three minutes later, we were anxiously climbing the stairs to the third floor. We reached Brenner’s court just before 1:30, but its doors were locked, which meant the earlier session had not finished. A docket crudely posted outside the courtroom listed “Mathur vs. Bauer” dead last out of 24 cases. “What the hell does that mean?” I asked. “It means we’re last,” someone said.

My friend Jan, a lawyer, joined us. “They often put the most interesting cases last,” he said. “So we’re interesting, are we?”, said I. I wasn’t sure I wanted us to be interesting.

The door swung open at 1:40, and we filed in along with all the suits. Mathur was nowhere to be seen. We tried to guess which guy was Corfield, Mathur’s lawyer. Wendy had encountered him—or someone who might have been him—a few days before in Laguna Beach. She described him to me as “kinda a surf bum.” I scoured the room for such a person. I spotted one—way off to the left. He seemed to be lookin’ for the perfect wave. Sand fell from his pockets.

We watched the bailiff, who didn’t seem to have anything to do but swagger. I mentioned that, for many years, trustee John “Brown Boy” Williams was a bailiff. We watched this one as he slowly transferred a piece of paper from one end of the courtroom to another.

At 1:55, for some reason, the courtroom became eerily silent, and everyone stared in anticipation. But Brenner still didn’t show. At 2:00, a man in a judge costume started hangin’ around by the back door chewin’, but he was just teasin’ us, I guess, ‘cuz nothin’ happened.

Brenner emerged at 2:15, and he sure did look like a judge. The first case was Martinez v. Somethin’-or-other. Brenner told the lawyers he wasn’t up to speed, and so let’s do this another day. “My fault,” he said. In the next case, someone didn’t file something, and that wasn’t so good, apparently. Then, in the next case, a lawyer neglected to file the “opposition,” and so Brenner granted the summary judgment. Bang!

A case concerning “Commercial Wastepaper” was up next. Brenner spoke of a “grudge match” that had been going on for a long time. While that went on, I looked over at Corfield, who happily played Beach Blanket Bingo on his legal pad.

The judge said some critical things about the opposing parties. Wendy whispered something about “Judge Wapner” into my left ear. Meanwhile, Brenner evidently had to impose a $1000 fine on somebody, but he wasn’t sure quite how he oughta do that, and so, after a few moments of Solomonic reflection, he said, “I’ll tell you what; let’s split the difference. Five hundred dollars each.”

Wow. I hoped he wasn’t gonna pull this splittin’ maneuver in my case.

A suit involving “American Funds Service” was next. Someone wanted attorneys’ fees, but Brenner turned ‘em down flat.

By 2:45, the court had moved on to something amusingly referred to as “Green Burrito litigation.” Corfield had had enough; he went outside to wax his surfboard.

We passed notes around. In her note, Carol opined that Brenner “certainly is very cordial,” and that he has a sense of humor, unlike some o’ those surly and pompous judges she’s used to in Federal Court. Just then, Brenner looked at a one of the lawyers and said, “It’s a pleasure to see you”—which, I figure, was just his juristical way of sayin’: “How’s it goin’, asshole?”

By 3:00, the court had moved on to Klein v. Somebody, and a lawyer or the judge said that the case was just a “rehash.” This talk of rehashing led to more loose talk, and soon, a lawyer misspoke, asserting something about “heat.” “I’ve seen lawyers in heat,” quipped Brenner.

A short, attractive, blond dynamo got up to argue for her client in McCornan v. Pine Creek. Evidently, a landlord refused to rent to a guy because he was an African American. Wow. As the judge and the lawyers spoke, they referred to “sexual orientation,” “homosexual animus,” “outrageous conduct,” and whatnot. We all stared intently: it was just like an episode of LA Law.

At 3:30, Brian Wilson left the room again. Brenner expressed skepticism about something Surfer Girl said….

At 3:35, Brenner called for a ten minute recess, apparently to give the court reporter’s digits a rest. We went outside and jawed. I noticed that the case that had just been heard immediately preceded “Mathur v. Bauer” on the docket!

At 3:53, we were back inside, and, sure enough, “Mathur” was next. Here are my notes, which are pretty spotty:

BRENNER: Brenner notes that the case is a motion to strike. [That is, it’s a motion to dismiss the suit.] He asks attorney Sobel what she has to offer.

SOBEL: Carol refers to the purpose of the anti-SLAPP statute…she says something about “encouraging” resolution at the earliest possible stage. [The statute is designed to protect people against “Strategic Litigation Against Public Participation.” In other words, it’s designed to combat the chilling effect of lawsuits against people who speak out on matters of “public significance.”] The defendant’s burden, she says, is “miniscule.”

She says the sole cause of Mathur’s action is “invasion of privacy.” If any of the 4 key elements (which she lists) of such a case fails, the case must be dismissed. It is clear, she says, that Mathur is a public official. (Relative to…?) Mathur needs to make a case that the facts are false—or that’s it.

The articles and documentation in the newsletter concerned Mathur’s conduct as a public official, and the conduct of such people is always a matter of public concern. Hence, Mathur can’t prevail in this case. Keep in mind: he [Mathur] doesn’t contest the facts reported in the newsletters, and they’re enough to “puke a dog off a gut wagon!” [Well, I made up the part about the “gut wagon.”]

Invasion of privacy involves the public disclosure of private facts (and that’s not involved here). Mathur is a public official…

In these cases, the burden shifts to the plaintiff, who needs to provide “competent evidence” that he will [likely] prevail (in a trial). Mathur has not met that burden. His papers are devoid of (evidence of the requisite sort).

[Corfield projects cockiness during Carol’s remarks. Now, someone whispers, “Surf’s up!”]

CORFIELD: There’s an important distinction. The defendant’s counsel refers to defamation(?), but our complaint concerns, not defamation, but invasion of privacy. Mathur is suing because the defendant (and Mr. B) stole documents from a file…Bauer and Mr. B stole a letter that is privileged; they stole and published something that is confidential. The issue of truth or falsity—to which defendant’s counsel refers—is a “red herring.”

Corfield says that Bauer’s attorney hasn’t succeeded (in showing the applicability of the anti-SLAPP statute?).

Bauer, repeats Corfield, has stolen Mathur’s records.

Defendant’s counsel today tells us, says C, that Mathur must prove his case. Corfield refers to “Briggs.” …So I don’t have to prove my case; rather, I am obliged only to STATE A CASE.

The defendant’s moving papers, says C, are largely (1st Amendment?) boilerplate; (hence) they offer “obtuse” [sic; he means “abstruse”] language.

Bauer’s counsel is [comparing?] apples and oranges. We need to look at Schulmann (a Supreme Court case?).

BRENNER: “They” [the defendants] stole documents, you say. But there’s no evidence of that (in your papers). You don’t show how this defendant got these papers.

[NOTE: They’re referring to a letter of reprimand (of Mathur), which I had reproduced in Dissent (in January of 1999), that, evidently, is part of Mathur’s personnel file. But, of course, that I had possession of a copy of that document does not suggest that I, or anyone else, stole it from Mathur’s file.]

CORFIELD: (Says something; not much; I took no notes. Corfield describes Mathur as the “president of a university.”)

BRENNER: This defendant [Bauer] got the papers (the letter of reprimand) somehow…How Mathur performed his job in the past is newsworthy.

(Corfield argues that the events to which the “papers” are related occurred very long ago. In his filings, he refers to them as “ancient”--and thus unnewsworthy. Brenner seems to reject that adjective--“ancient”-- as applied here.)

SOBEL: Can I respond? [Sobel begins to discuss Schulmann…]

[At this point, Wendy briefly borrows my pen and tablet, and so my notes have a 2 minute gap.]

BRENNER: (He reads aloud from Schulmann.)

SOBEL: Carol directs Brenner to a section of Schulmann. The lawyers argue about the “standard” that must be met by the person who brings the suit. The judge favors Carol’s interpretation.

She refers to a “misdirected fax” (from Mr. B to the chancellor), which is cited by Mathur as evidence of my alleged “theft.” [The fax was a copy of a letter in which the district’s attorney, Spencer Covert, opines that Mathur had indeed violated federal law by distributing a student’s transcripts. In fact, Covert’s letter had been widely distributed on campus not long after it was sent by Covert to IVC.] The fax, she says, was sent to the chancellor two days after the publication of the first Dissent at issue in this case. There is no evidence that the fax even got to the defendant (Bauer). The faxed Covert letter never appeared in the newsletter. So where’s the evidence of theft?

BRENNER: Brenner opines that the Dissent stories are newsworthy. Further, there’s “no showing” that the reports were untruthful “that I can see.” There “is no showing” that, in the case of this defendant, the papers were unlawfully obtained. The evidence doesn’t seem to be here.

CORFIELD: Look at Schulmann. It isn’t about theft (?).

BRENNER: You keep saying (that the defendant engaged in theft). But there’s no evidence.

CORFIELD: We don’t have to prove that there was theft. He refers to 425.16 [California’s anti-SLAPP statute] and the Supreme Court.

BRENNER: …Brenner asks (I think) whether there is evidence that the defendants (Bauer and Mr. B) conspired…

Brenner says: I’ve denied these motions before, but the defendant [Bauer] is exercising his 1st Amendment rights. He is reporting on a matter of public interest.

Finally, Brenner says: I don’t think there’s any evidence…I will grant the motion [to dismiss Mathur’s suit].

CORFIELD: [Corfield looks as though someone has stolen his Woody.] C sputters something about a “leave to amend.”(?)

[Apparently, this “leave to amend” business is a desperate move on C’s part; Brenner responds as though Corfield has committed a faux pas. He indicates that he has made his ruling and that’s that.]

* * * * *

Well, we left the courtroom, and we were pretty damned pleased. Jan, who was very impressed by Carol’s performance, stepped back from her and intoned: “I’m not worthy.” Others squealed or laughed. We wandered down to the hall to the elevators, talking and joking.

As we waited for the elevator to arrive, Mr. Corfield snuck up behind us and then rudely interrupted, asking Carol about Mr. B’s attorney, with whom he wanted to arrange a conference. Wendy turned to him and said that Corfield was looking for her. As he commenced speaking, Surfer Joe poked Wendy hard in the shoulder, like she was Annette Funicello or somethin’. She kicked sand in his face. (Well, not really. She was very professional.)

Next: attorneys’ fees. Fun fun fun! —CW

March 2, 2000,
IRVINE WORLD NEWS
College president’s suit against professor dismissed

By Laura Hayes

On Tuesday, an Orange County Superior Court judge granted professor Roy Bauer a special motion to strike an invasion of privacy lawsuit filed against him in January by Raghu Mathur, president of Irvine Valley College.

“The motion was based on legislation to protect people like me when they are speaking the truth about a public official,” said Bauer.

The lawsuit charged that Bauer had published in his newsletter “Dissent” in January 1999 a confidential memorandum that Mathur claims was stolen from his personnel file. The 1996 memo centered on administrative concern with Mathur’s handling of a student’s transcript.

Carol Sobel, Bauer’s attorney, said the statute employed by the court is aimed at stopping at an early stage a lawsuit aimed at preventing citizens from participating in the legislative process.

“If the basis in the lawsuit is related to free speech and concerns a matter of public concern, then the lawsuit should be stopped at the earliest possible moment,” said Sobel.

Judge Michael Brenner ruled that how Mathur performs his duties as college president is a matter of public concern and he didn’t see anything in the published statements that appeared untrue, said Sobel.

After hearing from both sides, the motion was granted when the judge determined there was not enough evidence that Mathur would prevail in the invasion of privacy claim.

“You’ve got to show that you’re likely to win,” said Bauer.

Michael Corfield, Mathur’s attorney, said the judge only considered the defamation of character issue and failed to focus enough attention on the invasion of privacy issue. He said he will talk to Mathur about the possibility of an appeal.

MATHUR IN A LATHER: A SLAPP-SUIT COMEDY

By Big Bill B [aka Roy Bauer]

[Dissent 47, 3/20/00]

Background: on the 29th of February, Judge Michael Brenner of OC Superior Court granted a motion to dismiss Raghu Mathur’s lawsuit against me. Mathur had accused me of invading his privacy by reporting (in the January 11 & 19, 1999, issues of Dissent) his violations of a federal law that, ironically, protects the privacy of students. Brenner had ruled that the reports were “newsworthy” and that I should be afforded the protection of the 1st Amendment and California’s anti-SLAPP statute. Two weeks later, on the 14th of March, Judge McEachen, sitting in for Brenner, issued a ruling on Terry Burgess’ motion to dismiss (Burgess had also been named in the suit). Terry had been accused of conspiring with me to break into Mathur’s personnel file, thereby securing a copy of Larios’ reprimand of Mathur plus a legal opinion from the district’s attorney, Spencer Covert. According to Covert’s opinion, Mathur had indeed violated the federal law and district policy by distributing a student’s transcripts (in a failed attempt to discredit an administrator).

The misdirected philosopher:

MARCH 14: Addled by hypoglycemia and still hobbling from a nasty fall in the shower, I entered the big downtown court building, and, as usual, I didn’t get past the metal detector. At least they didn’t make me take off my shoes and belt, as they once did in the federal court building in LA!

Eventually, they let me in, and I headed upstairs to the 3rd floor, but I couldn’t find the courtroom anywhere. I consulted a directory: Brenner was on the 5th floor, not the 3rd! I headed up, arriving fifteen minutes late, at about 1:45. Entering courtroom 112, I beheld a stranger on the bench: a Judge David T. McEachen. Evidently, McEachen had taken over for Brenner for the day.

As I sat down next to Wendy, a pissed off lawyer was addressing the court about a company named “Paradigm.” “Paradigm took this money!” said someone, according to the lawyer. When the lawyer ceased yammering, Judge McEachen turned to the other guy, smiled benevolently, and said: “It’s your turn.”

Meanwhile, Wendy wrote me a note that said that we’re number 15, and McEachen’s now on number 9, and it shouldn’t take him long to get to us, ‘cuz most people didn’t file their 378s. —Lawyers talk that way.

The pissed off lawyer—a Mr. Burger—was fumin’ again, referring to another judge as “Black Jack Ryan,” which evoked laughter among the lawyers and bemusement or irritation from McEachen. The other guy responded with: “Mr. Burger will strike me if I’m wrong,” but he was wrong (I think), and Burger didn’t lay a finger on ‘im.

The next case concerned “Mass Mutual.” “You got the tentative,” said McEachen to the attorneys.

The tentative ruling:

Maybe they got it, maybe they didn’t. Wendy wrote me a note, saying that there was a tentative ruling in our case, too , but she was unable to secure the damned thing. The day before, we learned of its existence but were told that “Brenner doesn’t issue tentatives.” It turns out that Corfield and his partner—Mr. Rovell—were in the same boat as us, the HMS Clueless.

“Mass Mutual is taking it out of her hide,” said one lawyer, over on the right. The left lawyer, an Aussie in an ill-fitting suit, looked from my perspective (directly behind him) like he was standing at a urinal. The first guy—in his early 60s and dressed for a trip to Palm Springs—said he was “emotional” about the case. “I probably screwed up,” he confessed. They discussed the concept of “surprise.” “Surprise is not enough,” said someone.

I had no idea what they were talking about.

Suddenly lapsing into abominable incorrectness, someone spoke of the “lady lawyer up in Idaho,” but no one seemed to care. The Palm Springs guy seemed upset about the tentative judgment, which, he said, “is unjust in the extreme.” Then the Aussie stopped urinating, zipped up, and referred to the “shenanigans” of the Palm Springer, who, in response, pivoted slowly on his tasseled golf shoes with affected indignation. I looked over at the bailiff, who affected wariness, and then over at the court reporter, who affected consciousness. Blah blah blah, said the judge. My eyes glazed over. I lapsed into unconsciousness.

Love never had a chance:

Right about then, Wendy shoved at me and ordered me to get the hell out of the way. Apparently, it was showtime! I gave her and Diana G, the other attorney, a wide berth as they filed past me and then through the little gate—into the “inner sanctum,” as Wendy calls it. This time, Brian Wilson (Corfield) was benched, replaced by his partner Mike Love (Mr. Rovell).

Love never had a chance.

McEachen, wasting no time, referred to the tentative ruling—the one we had not yet seen—as we studied his face for clues. He announced that our motion to strike—i.e., our motion to have Mathur’s suit dismissed—had been granted, at least in the tentative ruling, by Brenner. (Whoopee!) According to Brenner/McEachen, the plaintiff—that’s Mathur—had not met “his burden” of showing that he would probably prevail in court. (According to the anti-SLAPP statute, the plaintiff must show that he will likely win, or the suit is thrown out right at the start, and the defendant gets attorneys’ fees.) He had accused Terry and me of stealing “private” documents (a reprimand and a legal opinion) from Mathur’s personnel file, but, said the judge, there was no indication of where the documents in question had actually come from. (They sure as hell didn’t come from Mathur’s personnel file!)

Last month, in her response (on my behalf) to Mathur’s complaint, Carol Sobel (my attorney) had argued that the Dissent articles about Mathur and the student’s transcripts were “newsworthy.” According to the new tentative, the plaintiff again hadn’t “controverted” that claim. Neither had he controverted the claim that Mathur is a “public official.” (I think Brenner even noted that, in the case of one document—the legal opinion by Spencer Covert—there is no evidence that I even received it. Maybe that was because, though the Dissent had referred to Covert’s opinion, it had never actually quoted from it.)

The upshot: Slam dunkage.

The judge closed with an analysis: “same facts, same result.” He was saying, I think, that Mathur’s opposition (his filed response to Terry’s motion to strike) simply repeated the failings of Mathur’s earlier opposition to my motion to strike. Ouch.

The Rovel grovel: a malarkey switcheroo

Back on the 29th, Carol had argued that the anti-SLAPP statute, which is designed to counter the chilling effect of lawsuits against those who speak out against the powerful, applies in this case, and we had prevailed on that basis. The two issues of Dissent in question (January 11 and 19, 1999) reported that Mathur violated a federal law—FERPA—plus district policy. (Such, again, was the opinion of the district’s own attorney, Spencer Covert.) Essentially, Mathur’s lawsuit complaint was that I had violated his privacy by revealing this fact, which, he argued, was of no public interest.

When in doubt, reverse gears! Now Mathur’s lawyers argued, not that I had revealed a fact, but that the fact was no fact. That is, though Mathur had indeed disseminated a student’s transcripts, that didn’t mean he violated FERPA (and district policy). I think the idea was that, since Mathur’s dissemination occurred “internal” to the college, it was not an illegal dissemination. In effect, Rovell and Co. were abandoning their original “privacy” malarkey in favor of “defamation” malarkey.

Rovell yammered a bit about the anti-SLAPP statute and then focussed on the notorious January 13 (1999) “misdirected fax.” That was Burgess’ fax of the Covert opinion, which had been sent, accidentally, to the District! Evidently, on the 21st of January, Chancellor Sampson wrote Burgess concerning that fax, and Burgess responded with a letter dated January 29. Rovell now argued that, in the January 29 letter, in a key line, Burgess made an admission that shows that his more recent “declaration” (a sworn statement submitted to the court) is perjurious! (At that moment, Wendy, showing admirable self-control, refrained from socking Rovell in the jaw. I was impressed.)

Rovell also referred to a declaration, in which an instructor describes the widespread availability of the Covert opinion by 1996 and its location in the academic senate’s files as part of the public record. Rovell rejected the entire declaration, arguing that its author’s opinion that these academic senate files are public is “entirely conclusory,” i.e., not supported by the facts.

The Dissent reports were “offensive,” said Rovell, who began to shine with nervousness. He seemed to say that the Covert opinion was a matter of attorney/client confidentiality. (Rovell failed to notice that the opinion was not written for Mathur, but for the district, which had requested a legal opinion regarding the fellow’s actions.) Clearly, said Rovell, the reporting of the Covert letter (and Larios’ reprimand of Mathur) would be “offensive and objectionable to any reasonable person.”

“Lastly,” said Rovell, we must address the matter of “newsworthiness,” regarding which there are “six elements.” One is the “social value” of the facts. Covert’s opinion notwithstanding, Mathur never violated federal law, said Rovell. “How can a false fact have a social value?” An instructor’s personnel file, he said, is “inviolate.” We’re talking about attorney/client documents, he said, inexplicably.

At this point, the court reporter stopped Rovell, asking him to slow down. “Go ahead—slower,” said McEachen. Rovell, glistening with sweat, slowed down, but he kept shinin’.

Newsworthiness: that’s the key

It was Diana’s turn. “Newsworthiness,” she said, isn’t the “last issue,” as Rovell suggested; it’s the “first.” Brenner had decided two weeks ago that the Dissent reports were “newsworthy,” that they had reported matters of “public concern.” How a public official performs his job—Mathur had been the Chair of the School of Physical Sciences at the time of his misconduct—is newsworthy.

Diana referred to Burgess’ January 29 letter. If one reads Burgess’ comment in context, she said, it is clear that he does not acknowledge having ultimately sent the fax to Bauer. (In fact, I never received this document from Burgess.)

Actually, it makes no difference, said Diana, who provided Bauer with the Covert letter, because the report of Mathur’s violations of FERPA were newsworthy, and that’s the key. Still, there’s no evidence that Burgess was the source.

Diana referred to testimony that Covert’s legal opinion was “in circulation” around campus already in 1996. She referred to a declaration by an individual who had sent a letter to trustees in September of 1997; the letter included a copy of the Covert opinion. Clearly, Bauer could have received the Covert letter from many others besides Burgess.

Diana noted that the plaintiff’s attorney is ignoring the three cases she cited in her motion, which delineate which publications constitute a violation of privacy. A misdirected fax, she says, doesn’t cut it.

Diana reminded the court that it had already ruled that the facts reported in the two issues of Dissent were “newsworthy,” and so the plaintiff doesn’t have a leg to stand on. There is absolutely no evidence, she added, that Burgess (or Burgess and Bauer) “stole” documents from Mathur’s personnel file.

The bottom line: the president of IVC, when the head of an academic department, violated district policy and federal law, said Diana. That is a matter of public concern, and that’s what Dissent reported. Further, “plaintiff has not and cannot dispute that Mathur is a public official.” Therefore, he cannot show, as he must, that he will probably prevail in this suit.

Yogi Berra:

McEachen then gave Rovell an opportunity to provide a brief response. Brenner’s opinion of the 29th was “very unfortunate,” said Rovell. There’s an “abundance” of new facts that show, he added, that Mathur never violated the law. Diana’s point about Burgess’ January 29 letter relied on a “play on words,” said Rovell. Facts “can be true or false.” The facts reported in Dissent are false. Mathur does not deny that, internally, he sent around these transcripts, but that’s not illegal. Blah blah blah.

Finally, the judge spoke. He said that he had read Brenner’s notes. And then: “I’m granting the motion. To quote the esteemed Yogi Berra, it’s ‘déjà vu all over again.’” BOOM!

Out in the hallway, we yucked it up pretty good. When Corfield and Rovell approached us with outstretched hands, we shook ‘em. “If Brenner were here, he would have denied the motion,” said surfer dude Corfield. He was kidding, I guess.

Diana, still hangin’ ten, called Carol with her cell phone. “Hey Carol, we’re done. We won,” she said. Wendy turned to me: “Yeah, they got thumped.”

We walked with Diana downstairs. Out front, her ride drove up. She said: “Next, fees.”

Yeah. —BBB [Roy Bauer]

We successfully wield the anti-SLAPP statute against Mathur & his lawsuit

MATHUR DISMISSES ANOTHER CHAIR: —But then El Ced comes to the chair’s rescue, and simpers; By Chunk Wheeler [aka Roy Bauer]

Dissent 51, 9/12/00

September 1, 2000: it’s 12:45, and I get a cell-phone call from Wendy P [today, she’s Wendy G], who’s been teaching all morning. She tells me that she has just served Raghu Mathur with papers regarding his “Judgment Debtor’s Exam.”

I should explain. You see, back in January of 2000, Mr. Goo filed a suit against Terry Burgess—and me—regarding my reports (in three issues of Dissent) regarding Mathur’s violation of a student’s right to privacy as delineated by a federal law (FERPA). That Mathur had violated that law was, at any rate, the conclusion of the district’s lawyer, Spencer Covert (yes, Covert—I’m not makin’ this stuff up!), who had been asked, by then-IVC president Dan Larios, to provide an opinion on the matter. Ironically, Mathur, a man who can neither detect nor pronounce irony, believes that the Dissent stories amounted to a violation of his privacy rights, and so he sued us for $50,000. According to Mathur, the only way I could have secured the documents I reported on was through the help of Terry Burgess, formerly the VP of Instruction. (That’s nonsense. The documents had been readily available on campus for years.) Thus Burgess was included in the suit.

Unfortunately for the Gooster, the great state of California has a law (the anti-SLAPP statute) designed to protect citizens from lawsuits that are filed by powerful interests—developers, politicians, et al.—merely in order to silence legitimate criticism. SLAPP suits are burdensome annoyances, or worse, for defendants, but they produce a chilling effect on potential criticism by others as well. They thwart free speech.

To make a long story short, we responded to Mathur’s suit by appealing to the anti-SLAPP statute, which yielded a quick dismissal. In court, Judge Brenner noted that my Dissent reports were both true and newsworthy and that, further, there was no evidence whatsoever that Burgess provided the information regarding Mathur that I had reported. In fact, he hadn’t.

As per the law, Brenner ordered Mathur to pay Burgess and me costs and attorneys fees. That amounted to $34,000 and change. Ouch! That occurred months ago.

But, as of this day (Sept. 1), Mathur hasn’t paid. In such situations, the prevailing side files for a “Judgment Debtor Exam.” Once it is granted, the “judgment debtor” is served papers that inform him that he must appear in court on a certain date. “If you fail to appear…you may be subject to arrest and punishment,” say the documents.

On August 29th, Carol Sobel, my attorney, filed for a debtor’s exam for Mathur. The order was granted on that day. So, on this day—the 1st of September—Wendy serves Raghu with the papers:

“Hi Raghu. I’ve got something for you!” chirps Wendy.

He stares but doesn’t move. She hands him the papers, smiling broadly. Eventually, he takes them, glumly thanks her, and then disappears behind the door of his office. 

Later, someone tells me that she thinks she heard Mathur crying and banging his head against a chair. But she isn’t sure. 

Could be, though. The document orders Mathur to bring 27 kinds of document, including

All checkbooks, registers, and canceled checks for all savings, checking, credit union, bank, mutual fund accounts and/or all other accounts owned by you and/or you and your spouse for the past three years…All payroll check stubs for you and/or your spouse for the past three years…All passbooks for savings, checking, credit union, bank, mutual fund accounts, and/or all other accounts owned by you and/or your spouse for the past three years…All financial statements listing your assets…during the past three years…All stock registers or other records of stocks presently owned by you…All documents evidencing any partnership interest in property owned by you…All credit card applications…Ownership documents…Your state and federal income tax returns for the past thee years…

—and so on. Jeez, I’d cry too. The exam is set for September 19th….

--7-19-00
In the end, Mathur was forced to fork over about $32K (that’s what we settled for).

Mathur turned around and sued the district for not protecting him from me—despite the fact that I sued him only in response to his suing me for reporting a demonstrable fact about his misconduct.

At first, the district simply rejected Mathur’s suit. In the end, however, the trustees gave ‘im about $40K (as I recall) and soon made him Chancellor the district.

Really.

MATHUR’S FAMOUS $1,000 CHAIR

From DISSENT 51
9/12/00

Original title:

MATHUR DISMISSES ANOTHER CHAIR:

—But then El Ced comes to the chair’s rescue, and simpers

By Chunk Wheeler

July 1, 1997: at 7:00 a.m., interim IVC president Raghu P. Mathur holds an emergency meeting of chairs and administrators regarding his recent action of dismissing Social and Behavioral Sciences Chair Wendy Phillips. Mathur had charged Phillips with failing to accord him the proper respect.

At the start of the meeting, he declares that there will be no questions. Accompanying his words with vigorous finger tapping, he thunders: “You are obligated to toe the line, and toe the line you will!” A few minutes later he adds that “Disloyalty will not be tolerated!”

There is silence. Horribly, a chair squeaks. Later, Mathur has the chair taken out back and shot.

I arrive late. Hence, when Mathur completes his “address,” which takes less than ten minutes, I immediately ask him a question. Hatred flashes in his eyes. Everyone looks at me and whispers: “No questions!”

“No questions?” I ask. “How in hell can there be no questions?”

August 30, 2000: it’s a Wednesday, and I finish my 8:00 a.m. class. I’m kinda peevish because a student just complained about the classroom clock, which, he said, is “way wrong.” It is. It’s been displaying “3:30” for years.

After class, I hang around the IVC administration building (A100) in order to admire the expensively framed “inspirational” posters that IVC President Raghu P. Mathur has hung there. One of ‘em shows an eagle in a tree and says: “A true leader…does not set out to be a leader, but becomes one by the quality of his actions….”

I’ve been told this stuff cost the college $1,200.

* * * * *

At one point, over in the corner, I hear people talking about a chair. A draw closer. “A chair?” I ask. “Yeah, a chair,” they answer. One person explains that President Mathur ordered a new chair for his office and that it just now arrived in “the warehouse.”

“How strange,” I think. Hadn’t Raghu received a new set of office furniture not so very long ago? –Yeah, now I remember: he also ordered a new phone ($500) plus a shitload of self-improvement books and tapes ($118).

They didn’t take.

“The chair’s big and expensive,” someone says. “Real expensive.”

Hmmm. That sure sounds like a misuse of college funds to me. I make a mental note of it.

* * * * *

A few minutes later, I’m photocopying handouts for my 11:00 class in A200. Some colleagues are hangin’ around, and I share with them what I just heard about the president’s “expensive chair.” One colleague speculates that Raghu really does need a massive high-backed chair, owing to his “bald spot,” which, says the colleague, has grown very “large and hideous and shiny,” and which reflects light beams from within A100. Those beams, she adds, routinely blind and flummox students who pass by his office window.

Another colleague suggests that the President really can’t use a large chair, owing to “the curse of feet danglage.” “Mathur is vertically challenged,” she adds. “Podiatric danglage,” she continues, “is particularly nettlesome to the Gooster, what with those nasty little feet of his. So I don’t buy this ‘big chair’ story for a second. Not for a second.” She sniffs.

I say: “No, it looks like Raghu’s really ordered a large chair all right. Besides, he might’ve ordered an ottoman, too.” Everyone nods.

The discussion continues as we walk through a door (propped open with a chunk of wood), wander down the hall, and then enter the “lounge.” Unfailingly, A200’s roof leaks during rains, causing flood damage, and so, last spring, someone decided to tear out the stinking lounge carpet and replace it with stinking linoleum tiles. As a result, the “lounge” now has all the homeyness of a shiny new coroner’s office.

Priscilla and Kathy’s office, which faces the lounge, still sports some of that stinking carpet, and it plainly displays the high-water mark of the last flood. During the Deluge, unspeakable biological specimens floated from Priscilla’s shelves down the hall to places unknown. Or so I’m told. Nobody wants to know where that stuff ended up.

* * * * *

Later, at about 12:15, I wander back to the lounge, and I find two Wendys, one of whom is equipped with a camera, owing, she says, to her enrollment in a photography course. Addressing the two, I say: “Hey, I heard that President Raghu P. Mathur ordered a big expensive chair and it’s over at the warehouse. Wanna help me investigate this apparent misuse of taxpayer funds?”

They do.

As we leave A200, I notice that the door to the outside has almost rusted clean through at the bottom. “I bet one of those rats we’re always seein’ could bust right through that,” I say. As we slam the door, a chunk of rust busts off. The camera-equipped Wendy beams.

When we arrive at the warehouse, we can find no chair. Nevertheless, within a few minutes, we determine that the thing is being kept in the trailer next to the parking office. We head over there.

As we approach the trailer park, we find several classified employees jawing outside. We ask them some questions and trade pleasant jibes. The boys direct us to the trailer on the left, which is marked “maintenance and operations.” The door is unlocked. We enter.

The trailer, which comprises a secretarial area on the left and two work areas on the right, is empty, evidently. Over in the area immediately to the right—a wide-open and unmarked room—we spot a large leather chair, wrapped in plastic. It’s as plain as day. We step inside the room. Affixed to the chair’s clear plastic covering is an invoice, which indicates that it is a “La-Z-Boy presidential highback.” It’s price: a whopping $1,085.98! I write down the information.

Covered in handsome black leather, the chair sports brass studs along its impressive sides. From directly behind, it looks like a horse’s ass on casters.

One of the Wendys starts to take pictures. We photograph the invoice with great care. “I hope you know how to use that camera,” I say to Wendy. She chirps and beams.

After a minute or so, some guy enters the building, and, since we got what we wanted, we leave.

We tell everyone we can find about the president’s new chair. People are shocked—shocked!—that Raghu would spend over a thousand dollars of taxpayer money on a chair for his office. “Doesn’t he already have a chair?” they ask. “Why would he buy such an expensive chair?”

* * * * *

Later, I run into an employee who seems preoccupied. Standing outside B100, she declares that she is “sick and tired” of the toilet paper deficit in the women’s bathrooms. I commiserate. “Yeah,” I say. “You should see the men’s bathroom over in A400. The mirror is all tagged up, all kinds of stuff has been ripped off of the walls, and it generally looks like a war zone in there. On the other hand, the urinals are industrial strength. Way cool.”

August 31, 2000: it’s Thursday morning, and I hear a rumor that someone has tipped off the president regarding the faculty’s knowledge of his highfalutin new chairage. Reportedly, Raghu responds by ordering that the chair be returned to the store immediately.

“Jeez,” I think. “That’s the same as a confession.”

I make inquiries as to the chair’s whereabouts and learn that it is back in the warehouse. Accompanied by a few denizens of A200, I walk over to investigate.

We find what seems to be The Chair over by the west wall, again covered in clear plastic. I examine it and decide that it’s the very chair we spotted yesterday in that abandoned trailer. Someone tells us that, now, the darned thing is being sent back to the store.

“How come?”

“Don’t know.”

As I head back to A200, I observe others making the pilgrimage to The Thousand-Dollar Chair. Evidently, word about it has spread all over campus.

* * * * *

Later, I run into Rebel Girl, who is smiling. She explains that she has told one of the student reporters about Raghu’s chair. The kid, she says, seems to think that there is a news story in it, so he headed over to the warehouse to investigate. Later, she now tells me, he returned with a photographer, but, by then, the chair had been covered with opaque plastic. This only piqued the journalists’ interests. The photographer took what pictures he could, lifting the chair’s dark skirt.

* * * * *

After my 12:30 class, I drop in during the IVC Academic Senate meeting, but it’s a real snoozefest, so I head back to my office. After a few minutes of reflection, I decide to drop a note to some trustees. I quickly compose and send the following email:

Dear Don, Marcia, Dave, and Nancy:

Yesterday, while in the administration building, I heard a rumor that our president, Mr. Raghu P. Mathur, had ordered a chair for his office and that it just arrived, though it had not yet been delivered to A100...I did some research and discovered the whereabouts of the chair. When I found it, it was covered with plastic upon which was attached an invoice. Apparently, the chair—a “La-Z-Boy presidential highback”—cost the college $1,085.98. I can testify that it is indeed presidential. It is a chair fit for a king!

Today, I was told that the President somehow became concerned that faculty had learned of the purchase. Oddly (I’m told), he has ordered that the chair be sent back to the store. (McMahan’s I think.

I certainly hope that my little inquiry yesterday didn’t discourage the president from using college funds for something of such manifest importance to our mutual endeavor of “serving the students” in a fiscally responsible fashion. I would raise the matter with him myself, but he owes me a lot of money, and I don’t want to embarrass him.

Perhaps one of you can intercede and explain to the President that he should feel entitled to spend a grand on a chair, given what a grand job he’s done for this college. (No doubt, the downward trend in enrollments…is a temporary situation. I sure hope so.)

Hope you’re all doing well. I’m doing fine.

September 1, 2000: it’s 12:45, and I get a cell-phone call from Wendy P, who’s been teaching all morning. She tells me that she has just served Raghu Mathur with papers regarding his “Judgment Debtor’s Exam.”

I should explain. You see, back in January of 2000, Mr. Goo filed a suit against Terry Burgess—and me—regarding my reports (in three issues of Dissent) regarding Mathur’s violation of a student’s right to privacy as delineated by a federal law (FERPA). That Mathur had violated that law was, at any rate, the conclusion of the district’s lawyer, Spencer Covert (yes, Covert—I’m not makin’ this stuff up!), who had been asked, by then-IVC president Dan Larios, to provide an opinion on the matter. Ironically, Mathur, a man who can neither detect nor pronounce irony, believes that the Dissent stories amounted to a violation of his privacy rights, and so he sued us for $50,000. According to Mathur, the only way I could have secured the documents I reported on was through the help of Terry Burgess, formerly the VP of Instruction. (That’s nonsense. The documents had been readily available on campus for years.) Thus Burgess was included in the suit.

Unfortunately for the Gooster, the great state of California has a law (the anti-SLAPP statute) designed to protect citizens from lawsuits that are filed by powerful interests—developers, politicians, et al.—merely in order to silence legitimate criticism. SLAPP suits are burdensome annoyances, or worse, for defendants, but they produce a chilling effect on potential criticism by others as well. They thwart free speech.

To make a long story short, we responded to Mathur’s suit by appealing to the anti-SLAPP statute, which yielded a quick dismissal. In court, Judge Brenner noted that my Dissent reports were both true and newsworthy and that, further, there was no evidence whatsoever that Burgess provided the information regarding Mathur that I had reported. In fact, he hadn’t.

As per the law, Brenner ordered Mathur to pay Burgess and me costs and attorneys fees. That amounted to $34,000 and change. Ouch! That occurred months ago.

But, as of this day (Sept. 1), Mathur hasn’t paid. In such situations, the prevailing side files for a “Judgment Debtor Exam.” Once it is granted, the “judgment debtor” is served papers that inform him that he must appear in court on a certain date. “If you fail to appear…you may be subject to arrest and punishment,” say the documents.

On August 29th, Carol Sobel, my attorney, filed for a debtor’s exam for Mathur. The order was granted on that day. So, on this day—the 1st of September—Wendy serves Raghu with the papers:

“Hi Raghu. I’ve got something for you!” chirps Wendy.

He stares but doesn’t move. She hands him the papers, smiling broadly.

Eventually, he takes them, glumly thanks her, and then disappears behind the door of his office.

Later, someone tells me that she thinks she heard Mathur crying and banging his head against a chair. But she isn’t sure.

Could be, though. The document orders Mathur to bring 27 kinds of document, including

All checkbooks, registers, and canceled checks for all savings, checking, credit union, bank, mutual fund accounts and/or all other accounts owned by you and/or you and your spouse for the past three years…All payroll check stubs for you and/or your spouse for the past three years…All passbooks for savings, checking, credit union, bank, mutual fund accounts, and/or all other accounts owned by you and/or your spouse for the past three years…All financial statements listing your assets…during the past three years…All stock registers or other records of stocks presently owned by you…All documents evidencing any partnership interest in property owned by you…All credit card applications…Ownership documents…Your state and federal income tax returns for the past thee years…

—and so on. Jeez, I’d cry too. The exam is set for September 19th.

September 5, 2000: It’s the day after Labor Day, and I’m at school. I hear a rumor that Nelson C, head of maintenance, has asked campus police for the form to report an “unusual occurrence.” I make inquiries. Sure enough, that’s what he’s done. But what’s the unusual occurrence? Mathur’s purchase? Yeah, that’s pretty unusual all right.

In the hallway, someone tells me that someone he knows recently met Mike Corfield, Mathur’s hapless attorney. Supposedly, they asked Corfield about Raghu. “He’s the worst client I’ve ever had,” responded Corfield. Or so he said she said.

* * * * *

I go back to my office. I lean back in my chair and think. The chair issues a lugubrious squawk.

* * * * *

When I arrive home, a find a phone message informing me that, according to Corfield, Mathur wants to settle. In return for a reduction in the award, he will pay the entire debt in one cash payment, thereby rendering the “exam” unnecessary.

I confer with the lawyers.

September 6, 2000: it’s the morning, and I’m in A200, standing atop a water stain. Someone accosts me and says, “It’s back!”

“What’s back?”

“The chair!”

She drags me outside to the window of Mathur’s office. We peer inside and see Raghu and his Amazing Techno-leather Dreamchair. He looks like a midget in a tree, purring.

“That’s not it. That’s Naugahyde,” I declare, referring to the chair, not to Raghu.

“Nope. It’s leather. Plus, look at the brass studs.”

Sure enough, those brass studs are ashinin’. Lots of ‘em.

“It’s the chair,” I say, charily.

* * * * *

It’s the afternoon, and I’m home. I get a call from my attorney, Carol. “He’s agreed to pay $32,000 cash,” she says.

Evidently, he wanted to pay with a personal check. Nothin’ doin’, said Carol. She insisted on a cashier’s check, she says.

“Good idea.”

September 11, 2000: it’s the morning, and I’m at IVC. Someone tells me that they have it on good authority that Raghu kept the chair owing to the Chancellor’s insistence.

Perfect.

* * * * *

I arrive home. There’s a message from Carol. She has received the check. She sounds chirpy.

* * * * *

I leave for the House of Humor to buy a Whoopie Cushion. –CW