Opinions to go Online

There’s no denying that “Flags Along The Bayshore: Tampa Remembers 9-11” will be a sight for the ages: a patriotic ribbon of red, white and blue waving freely from Gandy Boulevard to Platt Street. It will be an impressively graphic reminder that we haven’t forgotten those who died Sept. 11. Nor what it is that is worth fighting for: our democratic way of life.

But where does that leave Sept. 10? That’s the date of the primary, an opportunity to actually participate in the process we all agree — and decree — is worth fighting for.

For the record, the first primary of 2000 drew 17.09 percent of registered voters. And that, mind you, was an improvement over ’98, when 13.05 percent of registered voters cast ballots.

“Flag-waving is wonderful,” says Supervisor of Elections Pam Iorio, “but the greatest act of patriotism is voting. We can remember Sept. 11 by voting Sept. 10.”

Let’s really roll.

A fortnight ago Mayor Dick Greco was ground zero in a raging, geopolitical firestorm over his furtive foray to Cuba. His press conference, an emotional, meandering mix of sentiment, philosophy, rationales and travelogue outtakes, didn’t satisfy most of the media. Very little does.

Explaining a trip to Cuba and a meeting with Fidel Castro — given all the political nuances– is inherently dicey, especially if you’re wont to wear your emotions on your sleeve.

Here’s one columnist’s take on why the mayor did it. The reasons are as multi-faceted as the mayor himself.

* Curiosity: The mayor has long been, well, smitten. You don’t grow up in Ybor City — of Italian and Spanish descent — without an acute sense of Cubans and their homeland. Vestiges of the grandeur that once was had to be seen first-hand. Intimations of mortality only added to the sense of exigency.

Moreover, increasing numbers of Americans of influence and standing, including some in the mayor’s own circle of acquaintances, had gone. A number are Anglos. After a while, the well-intentioned, informative, second-hand accounts were becoming gnawing reminders of where the mayor himself had never been.

“I don’t hate anyone,” says Greco. “But I understand why anyone would hate Castro. I’ve seen what they left. It was gorgeous

We can’t possibly know what it’s like to lose a loved one in a tragic, violent way unless we’ve walked in a survivor’s shoes. Would we seek revenge as much as justice? Is the horrifically unforgettable also forgivable? We can’t know, and we can’t judge.

But we can salute Bruce Murakami for the compassion he showed in asking a judge for leniency in the case of the young man convicted of the manslaughter deaths of his wife and daughter. Murakami’s family was snuffed out in a fiery accident caused by a 19-year-old drag racer.

The judge heeded Murakami’s plea for mercy and gave Justin Cabezas house arrest and probation instead of jailing him for up to 30 years. In addition, both Murakami and Cabezas, now 23, will be part of a community-service dialogue with teenagers on the consequences of drag racing.

Moreover, another life wasn’t claimed by the tragic accident. Murakami says Cabezas now has the opportunity to make something of himself. If he, indeed, does, that will be the legacy of uncommon compassion shown under the most trying and tragic of circumstances.

When last we checked, the United States was still a country of laws, which is good. But where there are laws, of course, there must be lawyers, which somehow seems less good.

The incongruity is nothing new. Attorney jokes predate the Magna Carta.

Maybe it’s the perception that the adversary system is too much about winners and losers and too little about right and wrong. “Taken to the cleaners” has always been more about law suits than dry cleaning.

Perhaps it’s because a lawyer must represent, say, a John Walker Lindh or an Alejandro Avila. Maybe it has something to do with medical malpractice nightmares. Or counselors whispering Fifth Amendment advice to their corporate clients. Or barristers clogging up the system on behalf of the fat blaming fast food or the disabled demanding lap-dance access. And you can still make a pretty good case that there’s a basis for “the best defense money can buy.”

Perception, of course, is reality. It is also selective.

It also has been reinforced by that out-of-context, “kill all the lawyers” quote from Henry VI, which seems so supportive of lawyer stereotypes and drastic reform.

To the Florida Bar, however, enough is enough, including Shakespearean quotes. To Tod Aronovitz, its new president, such tales and perceptions, full of sound and fury and lawyer jokes, signify nothing but cheap shots. That’s why the Bar has embarked on a $750,000 public relations campaign to combat the stereotypes and shore up the legal image.

Locally, there’s no one better positioned to address the campaign than Tampa personal injury attorney Rod Brooker. In a previous incarnation Brooker was a prominent public relations practitioner. Before making a mid-career change, he had been the well-regarded managing director of PR for the late advertising icon, Louis Benito.

Brooker doesn’t mind weighing in on the issue. And, yes, he has sent — per Aronowitz’s request — an extra $45 PR-campaign-contribution along with his $265 annual Florida Bar dues.

He sees an obvious irony. “We lawyers are advocates; it’s our duty to do the best job we can for our clients,” Brooker explains. “When someone is mangled in a car accident, my only duty is to recover as much money as we can. In the course of events, it’s going to upset others, including the other driver, but I’m just doing the best job for my client.”

But yet, he acknowledges, “We don’t do a very good job of explaining what we do to the public.”

So any campaign, he says, would need to be heavy on statistics, such as the dollars and hours associated with pro bono work. “I think you probably start with the macro story of the good things Florida lawyers do in the aggregate,” says Brooker. “The good works of the Florida Bar