Official memories: unintended consequences | News, sports, jobs

The two previous sports editors could not reach an agreement. They were not from the region and quickly went to work in their home state.

I later learned that the final decision about the job came down to me and an older gentleman whose multiple physical ailments ultimately played a role in the selection.

I had been working in the athletic department as a stringer for four years and was a senior at SUNY Fredonia.

I had recently switched from teaching to English after a humiliating, life-changing interview by an assistant principal at an area high school. As a future student teacher, he saw my appointment not as a future teacher, but as a desk graffiti agent who would catch him on bored, artistic, juvenile delinquent students.

The OBSERVER building was my home away from home for decades.

My offers to volunteer as a coach or advisor for the yearbook, school newspaper, library, debate, or honor society were immediately rejected. It was graffiti that mattered. It had to be stopped. Pretty bad, right?

I never applied for the position of sports editor. It was a dream job of mine, one that I thought was way out of my reach, especially at my age.

I was stunned when City Editor Keith Sheldon and Assistant City Editor Ted Lutz offered me the job. My parents, Mark and Jean Hammond, advised me to accept it and I have never regretted my decision.

However, there was one high school football coach who was not a fan of my hiring. He complained bitterly about me to his school’s booster club at a meeting. He was certain that my background as a Cardinal Mindszenty High School graduate and FSUC student-athlete would be disastrous for his school.

When my father heard about this criticism, he left him a note. He told him that I wasn’t biased towards his school and that he should please give me a chance to prove myself. Pretty tame, right?

Mark Hammond

Somehow word of the correspondence got back to my father’s enemies in the local football club and he was immediately charged. Officials are prohibited from corresponding with coaches.

My father had been a thorn in the side of the group for years. He had advocated for changes in several areas and had repeatedly butted heads with the Jamestown-dominated leadership.

A sought-after presenter of sports banquets, thanks to his considerable skills in debating and public speaking, he was a persistent problem within the administration. The leadership wanted him gone.

He was accused of conduct detrimental to the organization and the group’s complaints committee recommended the death penalty, a lifetime deportation. Pretty lame, right?

Upon expulsion, the suspect had the right to present his case to the full members for a final decisive vote. Two-thirds of the votes would be needed to uphold the committee’s draconian decision.

The board called an emergency meeting to address the matter, figuring that the far-flung members were unlikely to attend on short notice. They felt that they would get more than enough votes from the Jamestown visitors and that my father’s fate would be sealed forever. Pretty low, right?

They seriously underestimated my father, who hired a lawyer friend to represent him. He personally called all non-Jamestown members and implored them to attend and vote against this grave injustice.

They showed up in overwhelming numbers and the lawyer put on a masterful defense.

When the chairman of the complaints committee was asked by the lawyer to produce the alleged note, he admitted that he did not have it and had never actually seen it.

The coach was then contacted by telephone and said he had thrown away the correspondence.

A total lack of evidence and hearsay testimony does not produce cases, even in kangaroo courts.

The vote was not close. My father was acquitted and remained in office for more than ten years. He happily bought drinks at a nearby establishment that evening.

Dad only confessed this incident to me after he was acquitted of the false charges. He said he didn’t want me to feel guilty about taking my dream job. Pretty noble, right?

I wish more fathers were like my father.

——

Bill Hammond is a former EVENING OBSERVER sports editor.