Eddie Curran gives some tips about self-publishing at the Friends of the Library Annual Meeting Jan. 27, 2011. www.eddiecurran.com

From Croaker Talk (eddiecurran.blogspot.com)

In the photo above, Booze.

Each day brings news from Montgomery of the advancements of Gov. Bob Riley’s ethics package through the legislature. However, one “reform”is not to be found: That would be a law prohibiting Alabama legislators from keeping alcohol in the Statehouse; and from drinking while there’s lawmaking going on in the chambers.

      “During the last night of this year’s Regular Session of the Legislature, Ted Hosp 
walked into a Republican Senate office, where he found Mr. Curran drinking alcohol 
with a Republican senator, Claire Austin, and others. Drinking is not allowed in the 
Alabama State House.”
      – Portion of Aug. 17, 2001, letter sent from Siegelman chief of staff  Jim Buckalew 
to Register publisher Howard Bronson.

        “On the last night of this year’s session, Mr. Curran became so inebriated at a 
Montgomery bar that he was not able to drive home. He had no money and asked 
then-Chief of Staff  Paul Hamrick for $20 for a cab.”
      – From the same letter.


       I was seeking neither drink nor trouble but enlightenment when I entered the
Alabama Statehouse on the evening of May 21. I would get all three in a night
that concluded with a 2 a.m. cab ride from a bar called Bud’s.

      By tradition, the legislature concludes each year’s session on a Monday evening,
often not finishing until the midnight deadline, and then after a flurry of last
minute shell games orchestrated by lobbyists and the craftier and therefore more
infl uential lawmakers. The rest of the world finds out later, fingers are pointed, no
one can prove anything, and projects no one ever heard of get funded.

      Or so I’m told. First hand, I wouldn’t know because I’ve never covered the
legislature. The bulk of my Montgomery coverage involves the executive branch
and the state agencies under its control. I’ve attended a handful of committee
meetings, retrieved records from legislative offices, interviewed many lawmakers,
and written a reasonable number of stories about legislation. But in terms of
seeing the process in action, I was a neophyte.

      So I felt it would be interesting, even beneficial, to watch the sausage makers on
their busiest night of the year. For that reason I scheduled meetings and record review
appointments on Monday and Tuesday. Our Montgomery reporters didn’t need me.

       I’d be off  the clock, free to roam and watch, a tourist with a pass to the show.
I ate alone and at about 8:30, walked from my hotel – the aging landmark
Statehouse Inn – to its namesake, a few blocks away.

        The Statehouse – not the hotel, but the place where Alabama’s laws are made
– is a white rectangular eight story building across from the Capitol. Within
the top four floors, as if carved from its innards, are the two chambers, with
the Senate above the House. There’s something incongruous about the relative
sprightliness of the chambers residing within what is now, with the impressively
modern Bronner buildings, among the plainer structures on Goat Hill. On their
respective floors are the offices, with the senators – of which there are 35 – enjoying
roomier accommodations than the 105 members of the lower house. I chose to
start with the Senate, the more exciting and mischievous body.

        Exiting the elevator was like being dropped on a downtown Mobile street at
Mardi Gras, with legislators, lobbyists, reporters, support staff, and hangers on
racing about, some huddled talking strategy, others calling out for this or that
cohort. It was a world unto itself, its inhabitants without a trace of self consciousness
and wired with energy. I was dodging people, winding my way toward the stadium
seating above the senate when Claire Austin rushed out the door I was entering.

     “Guess who’s here? Suzanne! You’ve got to meet her. Come on!” said Claire.
Sure! And why not?

       Claire was off , me tagging along. A turn here, down a hall there and into the
office of Jabo Waggoner. I’d never met Waggoner, but knew of him. Who could
forget a name like Jabo? Technically, Waggoner was State Sen. Jabo Waggoner,
R-Vestavia Hills. For giggles, reporters called him State Sen. Jabo Waggoner,
R-HealthSouth, a play on his day job as Richard Scrushy’s vice president for
public relations. In any event, Waggoner was a conservative Republican from the
Birmingham area who as I learned upon entering his suite maintains an impressive
stock of spirits and mixers.

       We found Suzanne seated, chatting away and drinking a glass of red wine.
       As her phone voice suggested, Suzanne was fun, and not one to take herself
seriously. Among her duties was lobbying for passage of law enforcement-related
bills important to the Attorney General’s office. No such legislation was pending
that night, so she’d come over for kicks. She offered me a glass of wine, and after
a moment’s self-debate, I accepted.

     Suzanne wouldn’t have cared if I’d asked for a Coke, but I opted for the
wine. Dumb, but not done in conscious violation of any rule prohibiting drinking
in the Statehouse. I’d never given the subject a thought, and if I had, Senator
Waggoner’s bar would have served as the final word on the matter. He should
know the rules, right?

       Senators came and went, many with drink in hand. Suzanne introduced me
around. It was a Republican crowd, and I received much hearty praise for the
stories on G.H. Construction and Honda. At some point Ted Hosp stuck his
head in. He didn’t ask for anyone in particular, and I had the distinct impression
he’d heard I was there and came to verify.

       A brief hello, something short of friendly, and Ted was iff,
       “Oh great,” I thought. I hopped up and chased after Siegelman’s lawyer.
       In the hallway outside Waggoner’s office I gave some rushed and unnecessary
explanation of how I came to be there. I couldn’t gauge his reaction and returned,
slightly troubled.

        Ted, no doubt, was the source of the drinking in the Statehouse with Republicans
charge made three months later in the letter to Bronson. In fact, two of the seven
charges originated from what was for me a rare night out in Monkeytown.

       I seldom left for Montgomery before 9 p.m., primarily for procrastination
reasons but also because of a preference for night driving. Daytime glare makes
me sleepy, not so cooler nights with less traffic. Strong coffee and loud, fast-paced
rock’n’roll make falling asleep impossible even should I seek it. Often as not I was
sorry I had to stop, and if lucky, was asleep in a cheap hotel by 1 a.m.

       During the Siegelman years, 8 a.m. generally found me walking into a state
agency or courthouse. From then until 5 p.m., I didn’t stop, and then only because
offices closed and people went home. Lunch often as not came from a machine –
maybe a pimento cheese or chicken salad sandwich and a candy bar.

       Most of these trips lasted one day. After being booted out of offices or courts
at 5, I’d swing by the Register’s Montgomery office, make some calls, do some
computer searches, get back in my old station wagon and coff ee-up for the night
ride back to Mobile.

         I was, as goes Montgomery, a saint. Couldn’t have named a bartender in
town. With rare exceptions, a teetotaling working machine.
         As for the Republican aspect of the charge, had Suzanne been in the office
of a Libertarian Party senator or a Green one that’s where I’d have gone, not that
Alabama has any of those.

        After about an hour I left to go watch the senate, which, good to its reputation,
provided fine entertainment. After the buzzer tolled on the session I returned to
the party in Waggoner’s office. Claire said Fine & Geddie, the state’s premier
lobbying firm, had rented Bud’s for a post-session gathering open to all, and asked
if I was interested.

        Should I go to a party paid for by lobbyists? The needle leaned to yes. I
justified it on grounds that I’d never attended such a function and supposed it
could prove educational, since lobbyists and lobbying appeared frequently in my
stories. That and I felt like going out.

       My car was at the hotel and Claire offered me a ride. She dropped me off  at
Bud’s and went across the street to Sinclair’s. “You go in alone. I’m scared to even
be seen with you,” she said. Some already suspected her of being my source on the
G.H. stories, and she didn’t want to encourage such thinking.

       I’m not sure what I expected, but more than I found. It was all guys, like a
gathering of a fraternity to which I didn’t belong. Bud’s is a roomy bar, and against
the far wall was a table with chicken fingers and other appetizers. In the near
corner a mass of lobbyists and legislators drank and re-hashed the night’s action. I
recognized a few, but knew none of them, or in any event, not well.

        I bought a drink – as in, paid for it myself — and was relieved when Chris
Pringle, a house member from Mobile and a year ahead of me in high school,
walked in. We talked, and after awhile I walked across the street to Sinclair’s. By
1:30, more tired and bored than “inebriated,” I began thinking hotel and sleep.

        I asked people I didn’t know or to whom I’d just been introduced if they were
heading back downtown, and if so, could they give me a ride?

       None were, and none offered to go out of their way. I returned to Bud’s. The
only people I knew were sitting at a table nursing drinks. I remember thinking:
Should I? The brief run-in with Hosp – his caught-you look — weighed in favor
of yes. I felt it wouldn’t be a bad idea, perception-wise, to make my night out a
bipartisan aff air. Lawyers are famous for ripping each other’s heads off  in court
then meeting over drinks as if nothing happened. Might this sort of civility apply
as well between a reporter and subjects of his political stories?

          “Mind if I join you,” I said, and Hamrick and Mabry motioned for me to sit
down. Soon I wondered aloud if either was heading back downtown. Neither was.
I asked the bartender if he could call a taxi. I’d not anticipated going out and
had spent what little money I had. h e bartender said the taxi company didn’t take
credit cards. Was there a money machine nearby? No, there was not.

         Damn.
         I was staring at a 2 a.m. walk of three miles that would take me under an
interstate and through some of the city’s more crime-ridden neighborhoods. I had
a full schedule the next day and the clock was ticking against my sleep allotment.
Walking was out of the question.

        Much as I tried, I could think of no other way. I approached Hamrick and
Mabry and in a tone as apologetic as I could make it, asked if one of them could
spot me money for a cab. Without a second thought Hamrick handed me a $20.

        I assured him that he would get it back in the morning and thanked him. The
cab delivered me to the hotel, and sleep. I might have slept longer were
I not so cognizant of owing $20 to Siegelman’s chief of staff . That slate needed
wiping, fast. My first act post-breakfast was to retrieve cash from a money machine.

        I was in the waiting area outside Hamrick’s office by 8 a.m., gave the receptionist
a $20 and asked her to please make sure to give it to Paul Hamrick as soon as he
arrived and, equally important, please tell him that it came from Eddie Curran.
     Hamrick was out $20 for about six hours, and for most of that time, it’s
reasonable to assume, he was snoozing.

       The night’s activities returned three months later like a boomerang bound for
my neck with the seven charges list sent to (Register editor) Mike Marshall and (Register
publisher) Howard Bronson; and again, in September, when the paper published a story
about the allegations.

      I made a cursory effort to research the supposed prohibition against drinking
in the Statehouse and found a 1997 story by Robin DeMonia of the Birmingham 
News. She had reported finding empty bottles of Scotch, gin and Jack Daniels in
a dumpster behind the Statehouse on the morning after the fi nal night of that
year’s session.

        Capitol Police Chief Cecil Humphrey told Robin that alcoholic beverages
generally aren’t allowed in state buildings, but that the legislature makes its own
rules. State representative Ron Johnson told her that no such rules were posted,
and acknowledged that some lawmakers were known to drink in their offices.

    ”They’re the members’ offices, They pretty much free to have in them what they
want,” he said.
        My personal research on the final night of the 2001 session supported Robin’s
findings 100 percent. I was not, though, in a position to offer that in my defense
or to suggest we consider the irony of this administration’s making an issue of me
or anyone else taking a cab home from a bar.

     How could Don Siegelman, whose wife was almost killed by a drunk driver
and who’d long advocated for increased punishment for drunk drivers, fault
anyone for calling a taxi from a bar, even if it meant having to borrow money from
one of his aides? He should have touted me as an icon of responsible drinking.

       I wanted to ask, “Hey Gov, how’d your buddies Paul and Henry get home?
Drive? And after drinking? Saw ‘em drinking, Gov! Witnessed it myself. How’d
they get home?”

      This was all inner-monologue, and ignored the real reason I didn’t drive home:
I can’t say with any certainty that I’d have called a cab had my car been available.

       Our story in September about my seven transgressions concluded with
comments by Keith Woods, an ethics professor at the Poynter Institute, a
journalism graduate school in Florida.

         Curran, said Woods, “left himself and his newspaper open for attack” by cursing
at a governor’s aide, drinking with a source and borrowing money from another.
         “When we start to say those things are OK, the risk begins,” he said.
         Something short of fun it was to read those words in my hometown newspaper,
to say nothing of the one that employed me.

        The above “blog” was brought to your by our only sponsor, “The Governor of Goat Hill.’ 
     Admit it: you want a signed book for yourself for Christmas, and so do lots of your friends and family. I even personalize the signed copies (As in, “To Bob..message…Best Wishes, Eddie Curran or Merry Christmas from John..etc etc..” I will mail them pronto to you or the recipient, and if you pay by check, will go ahead and send the book and trust you. Also, this week I will be in and out of Montgomery and Birmingham and nearby environs, from tomorrow (Tuesday) until Friday or Saturday. 
         
        Contact info and payment/ordering methods, which include PayPal, are at the following link:


 http://www.eddiecurran.com/buying_the_book.html

From ‘Croaker Talk’:

Note: This is not a croaker, but it was caught in Mobile Bay, only not, dammit, by me. However, I find that its expression represents the spirit of “Croaker Talk.”

First, I am blessed. In the 1940s, my grandparents built a house on the eastern short of Mobile Bay and it has remained in our family. There is no excuse for me not be good at catching fish, as in, speckled trout, redfish, and others in that class. I like to do it. I’ve had ample opportunity to learn and get good at it. My father’s good at it, as is my brother and many of my friends. But I lack focus, and my feelings, at the deepest level, have been hurt by backlashes. While others have kept on casting, I’m pulling at string, feeling stupid and incompetent. Thus, my favorite fishing apparatus is any rod and reel made by Zebco. Those babies don’t backlash.

I don’t know this for an absolute fact but I doubt there are many better croaker holes than Mobile Bay, nor croaker-catching tools superior to the Zebco.

So I keep it simple — Zebco v. Croaker in Mobile Bay.

Most people croaker-fish by wrapping the end of their line around a crab, casting it out, and letting the crab catch the croaker and signal back that the deal is done.

My technique is somewhat different.
I tie a smallish hook to the end of the line.
Step Two: I get a few of the little weights you bite open, then bite back closed on the line. Though the pros have gone to those cylindrical lime green and orange floaters, I find that about three-fourths of the time they fly off when given the sort of hearty cast I’m wont to make. Therefore, I apply a round, plastic, red and white floater a foot or two (depending on the tide) above the weights.

And … I use dead shrimp as bait!
If I have big dead shrimp, I’m tempted to hook the whole thing but really and truly, a smallish to medium size chunk is better. There aren’t too many croakers big enough to even consider swallowing the bait I try to feed them sometimes but usually I can restrain myself and act the part of the disciplined angler.

Whereas most people cast by taking a running start and heaving their entire bodies into it, I prefer a neat if powerful (see above) flick of the wrist.

Given decent conditions (no huge waves, hurricanes, or those ridiculously low Mobile Bay tides), following the above guidelines, and applying a modicum of patience, I believe you could haul in a croaker one out of every two casts.

Could, but not will. That’s because Mobile Bay, in addition to being a primo breeding ground for croaker, is the motherland for the roach of the fishing world.

I think the federal government should give Auburn a massive research grant to find out how to remove the saltwater catfish from the face of the earth, or at the very least, from the waters of our bay. They’re ugly in a cruel, mini-shark way; you have to be very careful removing hooks because of their poisonous fins; even one as small as a microbe can take your bait and get stuck on your hook; you’d turn to cannibalism before you’d eat one; and I could go on.

Too often, the little heartbreakers beat the croaker to your bait. (I should note many are large, and give a good fight, but disappoint all the worse when you see it’s catfish.)

4. Lastly, the croaker is a lucky fish, as I will be if you go to this link.

Now that you’ve returned, why, you ask, is the croaker a lucky fish?

They are strictly a sport fish, if not particularly high on that totem pole. Catch and release. Too bony, I’m told. So most croakers that suffer the awfulness of having to be dragged fighting out of
the water by a hook to the lip shortly thereafter return to Mobile Bay, stunned and delirious with exhaustion, but very much alive.
Thus, Croaker Talk.

(Later note: The above was written, as they say, tongue in cheek. While much of it is true, the bit about most people croaker fishing by “wrapping the end of their line around a crab, casting it out, and letting the crab catch the croaker and signal back that the deal is done” … well, that part is not, and I wouldn’t recommend trying though it might make for interesting times.)

ED.: We’d like to preface this by saying “Whatever. War Damn Eagle, Eddie.” (Who says we are not objective?) BUY “THE GOVERNOR OF GOAT HILL”

From eddiecurran.blogspot.com

The new Auburn/Cam Newton rumor — and that’s all it is — grants Alabama Bingo Magnate Milton McGregor a role in some as yet unclear allegation that the big-time Auburn booster was involved in luring Newton to Auburn. Last month, McGregor was indicted for bribery and other misdeeds during his efforts to persuade Alabama legislators to legalize “electronic bingo” in the state…

   First, some thoughts on the McGregor/Cam Newton rumor. The scenario is made plausible — a world of difference from true — by the following:

1. Cam Newton’s father almost assuredly sought to sell his son’s services to Mississippi State. This suggests that Newton’s father would not be above seeking to do the same thing with Auburn.

2. Milton McGregor is abundantly wealthy, and, in my opinion, has been one of the two most corrupting influences on Alabama politics in the past decade — and that’s saying something. (Paul Hubbert being the other.) This indicates that McGregor would not be above paying a large sum in return for seeing one of the best quarterbacks on the planet playing in an Auburn uniform. If McGregor was involved in Newton coming to Auburn, then Auburn is in trouble. McGregor operates only one way — he pays for what he wants.

3. Cam Newton did select Auburn.

4. Milton McGregor is a major Auburn backer. He gave (according to news reports)  $1 million to the university in 2008 to help build an an arena.

The basis of the rumor connecting McGregor to Newton is that an unidentified person claims that during an interview with the FBI (now reportedly involved in the Newton investigation), he was asked if he was familiar with Milton McGregor.

Now, on to The Wildcard: Early this year — roughly the same time period during which Newton was being recruited — the FBI was secretly taping McGregor’s phone as part of its Bingo and Bribery probe. I don’t know the rules governing such taping operations. In the movies, they always stop taping when the target quits talking about the activities the feds cited when seeking a court’s permission to tape. (Note to self: Find out the rules ..might be a good “blog” subject.)

I confess to adding speculation to rumor, but if McGregor was in contact with Newton or his father, it might conceivably show up on telephone records — and possibly recordings — already in possession of the FBI.

Eddie Curran will be giving presentations with Q&A Wednesday and Thursday 9/1-2 at Carpe Diem.

Both from 7 p.m. to 8-ish and free.

Wednesday: The Use of Investigative Techniques and Public Records in Building the Stories Siegelman Couldn’t Deny. 

Thursday: The New York Times Couldn’t Find Alabama with a Map: Corruption… in Alabama from Siegelman to the Present, and (Mis)Coverage of it by the Nation’s Top Newspaper.

Since its existence was revealed on a radio program (the “Uncle Henry Show”) last week there has been a public clamor for a preview of Mod Mobilian’s video series based Eddie Curran’s “The Governor of Goat Hill.”

We will acquiesce with a ROUGH CUT.

In this video series we will break down the complexities of the Siegelman case in an understandable and entertaining way.

The homey milieu (lighting, etc.) is by Mr. Curran’s choice – informal and relaxed. His wish is to record his slide show for posterity.

We preview “The House Sale” – based on Siegelman’s $250,000 sale of his Montgomery house (which was appraised at $125,000 at the time and later sold for $10) to Wray Pearce, the accountant for trial lawyer Lanny Vines.

This is a more earnest episode – but just wait until we get to 60 minutes and the national media’s treatment of the story.

Addendum: Thank you to those of you who have given feedback. You need STILL MORE EXCITEMENT. (In all fairness LLCs are tough to make exciting.) Mr. Curran’s intent was to present his slide show – but we hope with your feedback to take it ON LOCATION (M’gmery, B’Ham) for YET MORE ACTION. So, the series will be delayed for several more weeks.

Read it at the “Governor of Goat Hill” Facebook page.

“The wacky candidacy of smoking hot Republican gubernatorial candidate Kathy Johnson will end tonight, the only question being which single digit her percentage will be. Kathy’s very attractive husband, Bill, is the name on the ballot, but a visit to his web-site suggests to me that we are being asked to vote for Kathy, who is smoking hot.
Kathy’s handsome husband has tried to make headlines with his allegations against Bob Riley, and is..surprisingly…a proponent of Milton McGregorism (casino gambling)
 Probably heshethey are the only candidates every to have links on their campaign page to photos and descriptions of their engagement, wedding and, here, their honeymoon. http://www.billjohnson.org/Experience/PersonalNotes/OurHoneymoon.aspx

Ron Sparks. On his campaign page, Ron declares with a straight face that he is “fed up with way things work in Alabama” and declares that he’s “tired of corruption and elected officials who betray our trust,”
Oh really? Must be why he was so thrilled with Don Siegelman’s endorsement that he invited the ex-gov/convicted felon on a campaign trip to a church.
Siegelman has many remaining admirers, but it really is a sanity test if you believe what he says. His assertion that Clarke aka Green was prosecuted because he was friends with Siegelman would defy belief if it came from the mouth of another. A cross between Peter Pan and Pinocchio as i describe him in my book, The Governor of Goat Hill (go to EddieCurran.Com and order copies til you drop..father’s day etc etc.)”

Read the whole thing at: Curran’s Governor of Goat Hill Blog

Bradley Byrne/his consultants, etc., have lately sought to make political hay out of the Orange Beach toll bridge built by Tim James and his partners, the bridge-building McInnis brothers of Montgomery…He said that “(James) profited because his daddy was governor at the time it was done.”

…Before getting into that business, let me say that I’m doing this because I want Byrne to beat Tim James, who from this point on will be referred to as Testosterone, reasons obvious…

I know Testosterone, and find him quite likable. He’s driven as all hell, and not one to take prisoners when someone gets in his way. He should stick with business, and if you ever find yourself on the opposite side of a deal with him or his Papa, hold on tight, and check the fine print. Jameses — they really really really like money.

Testosterone wants to be Alabama’s governor solely for egotistical reasons. Were he to win in June, then November, Alabama would find itself in the national headlines with great regularity, and for reasons that would make most of us want to dive under the table…

Is Bradley Byrne perfect? No, but he’s a lot better than Tim James. (One reason I’m voting in the Republican primary is because the most dangerous candidates — Testosterone, “Judge” Moore, Troy King — are Repubs and in need of being defeated.)
…The same Press Register story reported that James’s toll bridge partner, John McInnis, has made donations and loans to his campaign to the tune of a whopping $2.5 million; and noted that in 2005, Testosterone and his partners sold the bridge to Australia’s Macquarie Bank for — pause for effect — $70 million. Yes indeed, they did get rich.

Returning to Byrne’s words:
“The fair question all Alabamians should ask is: Was Tim James’ financial success with the bridge project built on his business skills or on his political connections?”

…”Many of my stories in the third year of the James’ administration focused on a Montgomery-based bridge-building company called McInnis Corp. After James became governor, his three sons partnered with the two McInnis brothers in a venture to build a toll bridge in Orange Beach. Since then, and as the stories showed, McInnis Corp., had repeatedly benefited from rulings by the highway department and, especially, its James-appointed director, Jimmy Butts.

…The stories, reported example after example of Butts — Fob James’ highway director — over-ruling his own staff and the federal highway folks by siding with McInnis time after time in disputes regarding the company’s slow and often shoddy work on bridge projects through south Alabama.
Butts did this at a time when the McInnis brothers were partnering with Fob’s sons (primarily, Testosterone) to build the Orange Beach toll bridge. McInnis Corp. was teetering toward financial ruin, and Jimmy Butts — tight as a tick with Fob — was using Alabama tax-dollars to save the keep the company afloat.

Quite frankly, I’m not sure the bridge would have been built, at least by Tim James’ group, were it not for Butts decisions regarding McInnis.
Here is one of those many stories, in its entirety.
Read the rest…

From Governor of Goat Hill author and reporter Eddie Curran:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Governor-of-Goat-Hill/106403899394293     www.eddiecurran.com  

Rambling, stream of consciousness discourse vs. Erwin and for Rich for D.A.
Let’s count the reasons. (Let me say first that I don’t know, such as socially, nor have ever made or received a phone call from either Ashley Rich or Mark Erwin in my life, as best as I can recall, anyway)

1. I saw Rich in action in a trial and found her to be intense, prepared, all the things you would want in a prosecutor, and she (and a partner) won.

2. Mark Erwin advertises himself as a “Judge,” and dons the robes in his campaign pictures and literature. He is, lets be clear, a very part-time municipal judge in Saraland. To say the least, I think he’s stretching it with the judge stuff to the point of not being honest with voters.

3. Judge and judgement go hand in hand. Erwin has such fine judgement in people that his political consultant in this race is BS artist John Gray,who is also or in any event has been for years “The Hammers” political handler.
(Gray also is the political consultant for Alabama AG Troy King, who is, along with Tim James, the worst candidate on any ballot in next Tuesday’s election)

Erwin’s apparent primary source of money is as an outside attorney for the Mobile County Commission, and Nodine’s the commish who gave him the work. From that plum he/his small firm has billed in excess of half-million bucks in recent years.
It would appear that, win or lose the DA’s race, he won’t be representing the county in the future. Said Mike Dean in recent days:

“Nodine was the commissioner that brought Mark Erwin on,” Dean said. “And since Mark Erwin was primarily working for Steve Nodine, and he is no longer here, then I … think his services will be no longer needed.”

it would seem that Erwin’s legal services went beyond assisting Nodine with county work. The morning after Downs’ death, Erwin went to Nodine’s house, helped gather Nodine’s gun collection, and turned the guns over, not to prosecutors, but to Nodine’s lawyer. Then, earlier this week, during impeachment proceedings, he refused to testify about his discussion with Nodine that morning to prosecutors, citing attorney-client privilege. This suggests, I suppose, that at least for some time, he was or considered himself part of Nodine’s criminal defense team. That, in any event, was his justification for refusing to answer questions.

4. Erwin is TOO Republican. It makes, should make anyone nervous when a judge or prosecutor runs a campaign that goes overboard on his or her political affilication, whatever it may be. Rich, to her credit, has refused to be goaded into attacking her fellow prosecutors in John Tyson’s office because they might not be card-carrying Republicans. One gets the sense that, if ERwin were elected, he would can seasoned prosecutors simply bc of party affiliation and turn the office into a home for Republican lawyers needing jobs. That should scare everyone.

The problem with this country is that there is too much Repub vs. Dem howling, and so much as a hint of a candidate getting along with someone from the other party is seen as a sign of weakness, rather than, as is more likely, a sign of a willingness to work together for a possible middle-ground solution, or in any event, simply being civil. Erwin’s campaign suggests that he is too poltically oriented to deserve the office of district attorney.

For the rest see: http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Governor-of-Goat-Hill/106403899394293

Excerpted From Eddie Curran’s Facebook page for his book “The Governor of Goat Hill”:

Soon after Nodine picked Mobile out of the hat to live and do his thing (1998ish??) he started showing up at the Press Regsiter building, then on Government Street. He’d just show up and — I suppose his greatest strength — start talking to you like he’d known you all his life. I thought he was full of crap from the start, as, is my recollection, everyone else he bothered in the news room. He would say he was a “lobbyist,” which is something I’ve never heard a real lobbyist say when introducing self. My thoughts, like that of others, was, “Who is this guy? Why is he coming up here? And isn’t he full of himself/BS.” There was also something about him having worked for Alexander Haig in some capacity.

Nodine took advantage of Charlie Waller’s shaky performance as a city councilman and went door to door, he (Nodine) probably having nothing else to do with his time. In any event, he won. I remember thinking: “Crap, now we actually HAVE to deal with this guy.”
…I think Nodine became the household name he became in part because of his relentless opposition to Sam Jones. Thus, he appealed to many who, for ideological or other reasons, didn’t like Sam Jones. Nodine was, I suspect will always, addicted to attention…

One of the commonly said things was: Does he REALLY have a wife? Obviously, he did, but she was just never seen nor heard of, on the campaign trail, anywhere. I doubt the press register has a file photo of her.

I recall one encounter with Nodine that only reinforced my sense of him as being arrogant, weird, etc. I was in the stands at Municipal Park watching my son play baseball and Nodine, who had a son in a younger division, saw me and came up and sat down. This was during the time that Jo Bonner was running against Richard Shelby’s guy Tom Young for Sonny Callaghan’s open U.S. House of Representatives seat. Now, both Bonner and Young had gazillions in campaign funds, at least for that kind of race, and it was really obvious that Bonner, a steady, decent man, and Callaghan’s guy, was going to win.
Well, Nodine looks at me and says, “Aw, Eddie, they DID NOT want me in that race. You know I could win it. You’ve seen me campaign…”

I will state here that I also think the connections between local political consultant Jon Grey (he has some of Nodine’s BS qualities ingrained hopelessly in his personality) and other of Grey’s clients, as well as the too-tight chumminess with former TV reporter Josh Bernstein, smelled to high heaven. One day I’d like to dig into the prosecution of Freeman Jockish, the hapless goofus. IN a display of outlandishly bad prosecutorial discrection, he was, was, well, prosecuted by former U.S. Attorney David York (he a Grey guy, like another bizarrro, Troy King) and sent to prison.
Jockisch may be the least dangerous (as in harmful to the public purse) public official ever sent to prison.
Troy King, Jon Grey, David York, Steve Nodine, Josh Bernstein…strange cats all, along with David Thomas, who fit in somewhere…Obviously Nodine the strangest of those cats.

One final ramble: About a month ago my wife and i went to the Garage, where Nodine apparently frequented quite often. I wasn’t in the door before his wasted ass was damn near bumping into me and saying something real loud, the only word I caught was, “California.” I was confused and moved on. My wife had heard more..he’d said something about “he had some good dope from California” or something like that — a joke on his problems after pot was discovered in his county vehicle….
Edwin Edwards once famously said: “The only way I can lose this election is if I’m caught in bed with either a dead girl or a live boy.”To bad it couldn’t have been the latter.