| ◼ In February, Jackson Green and Donald Zepeda defaced the display cases for the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution at the National Archives building in Washington, D.C. The vandals coated the cases in powdered red paint, supposedly to protest climate change. Both had been involved in previous climate-related disturbances, Green at the National Gallery of Art, Zepeda blocking a roadway. They were initially charged with misdemeanors. After the intervention of archivist Colleen Shogan, the DOJ raised the charges to felonies. Then, at Green’s sentencing, Shogan gave a statement in person to the federal court, calling for the maximum sentence, which is ten years. “These attacks on museums, and the unique treasures of our cultural history that we hold in trust for the nation, are not low-level, inconsequential, or victimless crimes,” she said. “Sending a strong message to clearly establish the significance of these crimes and deter future attacks is essential, not only for the National Archives, but for all cultural institutions across the country.” Green was sentenced to 18 months and Zepeda to 24 months, and both were ordered to pay restitution to the National Archives for the full cost of the damage, over $50,000. Though not the maximum, the penalties should deter any future attacks on the National Archives. Shogan’s commitment to her duty to protect our nation’s history is one of the more admirable acts by a public servant in recent memory.
◼ An average student and self-taught computer geek, Carlo Acutis built the website for his Catholic parish in Milan, Italy. He built another to promote volunteer work. And then another, his magnum opus, to catalogue eucharistic miracles. Religious from an early age, he invoked the example of Jesus the suffering servant when his nanny urged him to defend himself against bullies in day care. His parents followed him, not vice versa, into the traditional practices and routines of the devout life. Daily Mass and Scripture reading, the rosary, and eucharistic adoration became his lifeblood and oxygen. As someone exposed to the sun gets a tan, so do those “who place themselves before the eucharist become saints,” he said, never shy to explain his drive to attain holiness. What teenage boy talks like that? A saint. Acutis, who often said he would die young, fell to leukemia in 2006, at age 15. At his request he was buried in Assisi, the capital of Franciscan spirituality. At Mass in St. Peter’s Square on April 27, Pope Francis will formally canonize him the first Millennial saint, a model of exuberant self-immersion in the ever ancient, ever new.
◼ Quincy Delight Jones Jr. was born in 1933 on the South Side of Chicago. His home life was chaotic, to put it mildly. He had a lot to rise above. He found music, and knew that this was to be his career. Eventually, he studied with Nadia Boulanger, the great French teacher of composition. He was a trumpeter, a composer, an arranger, a producer. He produced Thriller, the Michael Jackson album, the best-selling album of all time. He collaborated with nearly everyone you have ever heard of in the jazz and pop worlds: Lionel Hampton, Ray Charles, Count Basie, Frank Sinatra. . . . He wrote film scores (In Cold Blood, for example, and The Color Purple). He wrote the theme music for Sanford and Son, the classic sitcom: “The Streetbeater,” that piece is called. Awards are not necessarily a measure of ability, but he won 28 Grammys and was nominated for 80. The amazing Quincy Jones has died at 91. R.I.P.
◼ Ted Olson had a monumental career in the conservative legal movement, serving as solicitor general, head of the Office of Legal Counsel, Federalist Society organizer, and appellate advocate in private practice, arguing dozens of Supreme Court cases. He was at the center of a great many storms, winning respect for his legal acumen, his devotion to the separation of powers, his courage, and his gentlemanliness. Held in contempt for resisting a Reagan-era independent counsel, he challenged the statute in Morrison v. Olson, even when only Justice Antonin Scalia saw things his way; Congress later saw the wisdom of his case and let the authorizing law lapse. He led George W. Bush’s legal team in Bush v. Gore. He agonized over the phone with his wife Barbara as her doomed plane headed to the Pentagon on September 11, 2001. Out of government, he argued and won Citizens United, limiting a statute he had felt compelled to defend as solicitor general. He fought for school choice and against racial preferences, and was formidable even when on the wrong side, as in his battles for same-sex marriage as a constitutional entitlement and for upholding the executive amnesty for illegal immigrants who came here as minors. Dead at 84. R.I.P.
◼ Formally speaking, Dick Allen was always known as “Richard V. Allen.” What did the “V” stand for? “Vincent.” For a half-century, he was a fixture of conservative foreign-policy circles. He was born on New Year’s Day 1936 in New Jersey. He went to Notre Dame. He worked in the Nixon White House. He became an adviser to ex-governor Ronald Reagan, and in 1977 they had an exchange, soon to be famous. It went something like this: “Governor, what is your aim in the Cold War?” “Well, Dick, my idea is: We win, they lose.” After the 1980 election, Allen served as Reagan’s first national security adviser. In his career, he was affiliated with several organizations, including CSIS, Hoover, and ISI. He was a knowledgeable and jovial guest on National Review cruises. He had particular expertise on Korea—the two of them, North and South. Richard V. Allen has died at 88. R.I.P. |