Years ago, comedian Steve Martin used to make people laugh by saying anyone could get away with a crime. All they had to do was remember two simple words: "I forgot."
As in, "I forgot armed robbery was il-legal."It was funny because of its absurdity. Yet the old Martin routine has tak-en on a much more serious meaning in recent weeks. Forgetfulness, or worse, seems to abound in high places these days.
One could ask when exactly Salt Lake County District Attorney Neal Gunnarson forgot it would be wrong to grab a stack of newspapers containing a disparaging story about him and toss it into the trash? When did he forget that, as the county's chief prosecutor, he ought to confine himself to letters to the editor or essays or speeches arguing against what he thought was unfair? When did he forget about consequences, about what would happen next or about the yeast he was adding to the mounting questions about his office?
Going a bit further south, one could ask similar questions of Provo City Councilmen Dennis Poulsen and Greg Hudnall. When did they forget their positions and decide it was OK to use city funds to buy placards for people picketing a strip club? At what point did they decide the collective body of taxpayers, of which the strip club's owners, employees and at least some patrons were part, should pay to support one side in this issue?
First, let's consider Gunnarson. He fell victim to his own emotions as he walked out of a restaurant near his Sandy home. He saw his own face caricatured on the front of Salt Lake City Weekly, a free alternative magazine. The picture depicted him carrying a smiling Mayor Deedee Corradini out of a burning City Hall. As political cartoon statements go, it was rather benign. The subtle message was that he had assisted Corradini in escaping ethics-law charges - a message more explicitly stated in a story inside the paper.
But Gunnarson saw more than this. He thought of his family, thought of his children walking by, looking at a caricature of him carrying a woman other than their mother. At least, that was how he explained it in an interview last week, trying to lend a logic and cohesion to what he did next, which was to take a six-inch stack of the papers and toss it into the garbage, in full view of witnesses who reported him.
A six-inch stack that contained advertisements and stories paid for with the intent of reaching readers, not the Dumpster.
As for Poulsen, his concern was in helping a worthy cause. Indeed, as this column has noted before, seminude dancing ought to be a concern in any city, and LeMar's, the club in question, has been a blight on Provo's downtown. Poulsen obtained permission from Hudnall, who is the council's chairman, to use city funds to buy placards, hoping the entire City Council would join in a protest in front of the club. They didn't on the advice of the council's attorney.
City funds represent the interests of all city residents. Poulsen, who since has returned the $60.50 he used to buy the placards, ought to pool his own funds with Hudnall if the two want to join the protest.
In both instances, to one extent or another, the men involved forgot that public office requires a sense of decorum, wisdom and dignity that is above gut reactions. They are the guardians of rules and laws, the tools that must triumph over emotions in an orderly society. Gunnarson said he reacted "as any man would." But that simply won't do, particularly when it is a standard that may lead to criminal charges.
The urge to suppress criticism is not new. It has been entertained by virtually every dictator, and probably most democratically elected leaders, as well. For those in the public eye, criticisms can quickly become white hot, searing not only themselves but those around them.
Likewise with good causes. They, too, can become all-consuming - so important as to justify bending the rules to further them.
Politicians have large egos and like to think of themselves as popular and filled with good ideas. Criticism and opponents are obstacles, nails in the road that could deflate intentions and delay ideas. The temptation is to simply sweep the nails away.
But the nails tend to do their damage anyway. Swept aside, they only become larger and sharper, and they roll on into the road ahead, as Gunnarson, in particular, has found.
Steve Martin was wrong. No one can simply walk away from bad behavior by tossing out excuses. If so, the joke is on them, because they will do nothing more than lend credibility to their enemies.