I don’t believe all Louisiana lawmakers are stupid. Most are pretty smart. But serving in the House and Senate are a few legislators, who bring down the collective I.Q. of the body as a whole. Granted, this is a rush to judgment. But the proposed bill allowing worshipers to carry concealed weapons in church seems to have been born in idiocy. My opinion is re-enforced by the comment of one state representative, who points out that there is nothing in the Bible banning guns from church. You can’t argue with his interpretation of God’s Word—unless, of course, you have more intelligence than a moron.

I’m an expert when it comes to dumb politicians. As a Baton Rouge radio newsman too many years ago to count—I will round off the number at 40—I covered the Louisiana legislature. It was saturation coverage considering that the newsroom had open lines to record all the proceedings of both the House and Senate. Moreover, I my evenings freeloading booze from lawmakers, who gathered in the Hunt Room bar at the old Capital House hotel. I remember overhearing conversations that would have formed the basis of terrific investigative stories. However, as an alcoholic on the fast track to a New Orleans gutter, I didn’t want to jeopardize my supply of free drinks. Journalistic integrity be damned.

There was, for instance, the night that one of the legislature’s most powerful senators sat with the city’s most notorious madams at an adjoining table and discussed pending legislation that would have made a third time prostitution arrest a felony. At some point, an attractive young woman arrived at the table and escorted the senator out of the bar. A few days later, he killed the felony provision of the prostitution measure.

While on the subject of whores, I recall a more humorous incident involving an encounter in the hotel between a lady of the evening and a state representative, who I will call “Smokey.” As he exited an elevator in the lobby, a prostitute approached him. ”Smokey, where have you been? I haven’t heard from you in days.” Unfortunately, Smokey was accompanied by his wife—heiress to a department store fortune. “I don’t know who you are, young lady,” Smokey replied. “But I would advise you to leave this hotel right now.”

The following day, Smokey gave a short speech in the House of Representatives. “Baton Rouge has become the Sodom and Gomorrah of America,” he passionately intoned. “Last night, my wonderful wife and I were harassed in the lobby of the Capital House by a common streetwalker. Never were we more insulted.” It took several hours for fellow lawmakers to stop laughing and get on with the business of government.

By the time I stopped drinking in 1971 and began adopting a bit of journalistic integrity that is necessary for building credibility as a muckraker, the legislature was changing. A group known as the “young turks” had been elected to office by reform-minded voters. Even so, a few ”Neanderthals” remained in office. I use the term because a friend said I should be able find the humor in recent research linking ancient DNA of Neanderthals to the evolution (bad word, John, bad word) of humans.

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/11/kissing-cousins/?ref=opinion

The finding is not surprising. Earlier research of cave carvings uncovered music that included the classic song, Neanderthals Get Prettier at Closing Time. Okay, Richard. That is my feeble attempt at Neanderthal humor.

Speaking of which, I relate my encounter with a former mafia boss who I described as a descendant of Neanderthals. Before returning to New Jersey to head a notorious mob family, Anthony (Tumac) Accetturro was living in south Florida during my tenure as an investigative reporter for a Miami TV station. I had spent a consideable amout of time tracking the mobster with an undercover camera. Ironically, I ended up being subpoened as a defense witness on behalf of Tony. He was charged with battery on a police officer, stemming from an incident that I witnessed and my cameraman caught on film. In short, there was no battery.

Anyway, I’m standing in the corridor of the Broward County courthouse entertaining fellow newsmen with smart-ass remarks about Neanderthal Tony scaling the side of the building like King Kong for his trial, rather than taking the elevator. I notice odd expressions on the faces of my audience as they peered over my shoulder. Standing behind me and taking in my one-liners was Tumac, himself. He did not smile.

His attitude would change, though. Based on my testimony and the film, he was acquitted. Afterwards, he told me what a fair guy I was by telling the truth. “If you ever need a favor, John, just call Tony,” he said, referring to himself in the third person. So far, I haven’t needed anybody whacked. However, I did ask Tony for one favor. He was later convicted in New Jersey of being involved in multiple mob murders. While at CNN, I asked his wife to arrange an interview. He refused. So much for the myth of mafia characters keeping their promises.

On a more serious note, the Baton Rouge Advocate has a special ten page supplement today on under-age drinking. Based on personal experience, I recommend it to every parent. I had my first drink at the age of twelve. Five years later, I was a full blown alcoholic. And until I was 35, tragedy was a constant companion. As I write in Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, the wreckage of my past is still being repaired.

That’s it for this week. And unless I’m caught in the crossfire of a gun battle in my little Presbyterian church Sunday, I will return next week. 

My memoir, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger, is available at amazon.com and independent bookstores. It offers much more than $19.99 worth of laughs. It is an account of my illustrious (I choose the adjectives) career.