Doug Blough

There’s precious little I could say about Al Simpson that hasn’t been said, especially now. I can though tell a few stories unique to just him and me — one at a funeral and two during court proceedings with Al as my character witness. Judge Ed Webster soon realized he was dealing with a couple true characters.

I’ll get to that particular trial, but my most recent first. Several years ago. Big Al stood by my side at my IDWS (Inadvertent Driving While Suspended) hearing because that’s the kind of thing the man did for stumblebums like me, and character witnesses like him don’t grow on trees. Standing next to me (I’ve never felt shorter) solely for moral support, Judge Joey Darrah asked, “Mr. Blough, are you being represented by Sen. Simpson?”

I explained not and Al spoke up: “God knows though I’ve represented my share in this courtroom; of course most of them are still in the pen.” I heard a chuckle from the personable judge and on the closed-circuit TV saw prosecutor Larry Eichele lit up by a smile. Anytime you have the opposing party laughing, it can’t hurt your chances.

In the joviality of the moment, I almost poked Al and said, “Tell ‘em the one about the boy named Merkin.” Not wanting to outrun my coverage though, I put a discretionary cork in it. I pled “guilty with an explanation,” and the financial repercussions were reasonable.

But years earlier, Al had judicially spoken on my behalf before a larger audience. It was for a failure-to-appear, with no real defense except my dysfunctional habit of stacking unopened, forgotten mail. Al and our mutual, great friend and Al’s teenage running buddy, Charlie “Clell” Wynn sat in the audience and Ed said, “We’ll conclude after I allow your witnesses to speak.”

Al came up and launched into a brilliantly-informative tutorial of OCD and the resulting hoarding clutter at my pig sty. He picked up a glass from the table and explained to Judge Webster: “Ya know Eddie, most of us would just pick up this glass and take a drink. Someone with OCD might have to tap that glass three times before being able to drink.”

Then it was ol’ Charlie’s turn and he came forward to say, “Ya know judge, I have a developmentally disabled stepson and he actually has a legal guardian. I’m not so sure Doug shouldn’t have one too.”

I met eyes with D.A. Scott Kolpitcke and imitated Rodney Dangerfield loosening an imaginary tie. I thought it was over, but unaware to me, my friend Linda had shown up and also stood to speak on my behalf. She said with motherly concern dripping from her voice, “I too have a son with mental illness who requires a lot of extra care.”

She returned to the gallery and Ed asked, “Mr. Blough, is there anything you’d like to say before I pronounce sentence?” I said in all earnestness, “Yessir. I knew I had some problems, but I never dreamed I was THIS screwed up.”

Again a judge and D.A were amused and again the arm of the law squeezed gently with only a lecture about the unopened mail defense not being successful a second time. Had Gotti had Al beside him, he might still be walking among us.

Then there was the “two men and a funeral.” It was the aforementioned Clell Wynn’s sister Vernet McGary’s service and I was seated in the back row and noticed Al coming in late. He tapped me and quietly asked if he could take the seat next to me. I was honored, saying, “Sure; sit down, clown.”

Presiding over the service was fire-and-brimstne Clark preacher Kurt McNabb. Kurt turned the funeral into a sermon and dramatically declared: “It’s not popular to say, but in a congregation this size not everyone would go to heaven ... there are some who would go to hell.” Al tapped me on the knee, bent way over and whispered, “That son-of-a-b–h is talking about us!” Grinning like a toad under a harrow, I whispered back, “We’ll see that prick in the parking lot.”

It was our favorite team story and Al repeated it to anyone who’d listen when we’d run into each other in a crowd. I bet the gangly goof is telling the story in heaven right now and God is saying, “I know; I know. I was there, remember?” When my turn comes for judgment day, I sure hope Al is the one by my side stating my case. When he’s done, Job will say, “Wow! And I thought I had it rough!”