Political grudges could surely rear their ugly heads at any time, and especially during elections. Perhaps, he thought, turning his attention to another set of articles, I have been a bit hasty in my assessment of the judge’s base of support.
The articles on which Mitchell now focused, dated several months later, followed a case which came to be known as the “Love Cottage Cult,” so-called because it involved groups of young people who regularly rendezvoused in vacant cottages in the Harbor View area. Depending on to whom one listened, what took place there was anything from simple petting to out and out sexual orgies. O’Donnell, the presiding judge, strongly believed in the latter characterization, as the quotation from him that Mitchell now read indicated:
“I fear that before I complete my investigation the public will be shocked and ashamed by the facts and confessions I now possess . . .” “In many of the cottages there have been found shocking aftermath of all night parties. Cigarette stubs, whiskey bottles, tattered and torn clothing, face powder, underclothing and the like have been left by members of these parties.”
Everyone in Toledo was, of course, morally outraged over the discovery, but what caught Mitchell’s eye was that in making his final decision, O’Donnell set a new precedent by blaming and ultimately fining the parents of the youths involved. Justifying this move by invoking the law against contributing to the delinquency of minors, he later, in one of his many talks on the subject, boldly asked: “What right have parents to sleep when their children are out until two and three in the morning? It is the duty of the parents to watch over their children.”
Many in the city agreed with the judge. But most of the parents who were charged not surprisingly felt that he had overstepped his bounds, trying to dictate how they should raise their children. In fact, if Mitchell remembered correctly, some were so incensed that they briefly attempted to join forces with the Housewives League in their efforts to oust the judge from office. Asserting that in both cases O’Donnell was abusing his power, the two groups for a time made quite a noise, providing fodder as well for John O’Dwyer, who had been hell bent on bringing O’Donnell down.
Since then, O’Dwyer had inexplicably become one of O’Donnell’s most ardent supporters. And, the Housewives League had tempered their attacks, somewhat appeased by the judge’s inquiry into the allegations by that poor, young woman, Lulu Carey, that her husband had been physically abusing her. Although Mrs. Carey was ultimately committed to the psychiatric hospital, the allegations were proven to be true, and her husband was currently on trial, which the League viewed as a minor victory in their efforts to stiffen commitment criteria. Yet, it was nevertheless becoming clear that any of these individuals might still harbor resentment toward O’Donnell, that these were avenues to explore, and that others may exist about which Mitchell had simply forgotten.
As it turned out, details surfaced about the judge that the articles helped him to remember, but most of them only seemed to confirm O’Donnell’s high moral character and commitment to the Toledo citizenry. For instance, the judge’s abiding and endearing support for the Toledo Mud Hens. Every year the papers chronicled his trip to spring training, where, sporting a team uniform, he would assess their chances and sometimes even serve as umpire. As a former minor leaguer himself and a close friend of Roger Bresnahan and Casey Stengel, his opinions on this matter were completely trusted. If he said, as he did in the article Mitchell had before him, that the team looked good, then by God the people of Toledo expected a good season. Then there were O’Donnell’s continuous contributions to underprivileged groups such as the Newsies. The judge gave an endless amount of time and energy to these young boys, organizing and overseeing the annual picnics among other things.
As Mitchell continued to thumb through the newspapers, he was, in fact, above all else reminded of the outstanding accomplishments of this singular individual. On one page was a description of O’Donnell’s efforts to form an intrawall correspondence course at the Ohio State Penitentiary; on another his proposal for an opportunity farm, a place where homeless boys and girls would learn skills to enable them to enter the workforce. If a social cause that would benefit the city existed, rest assured O’Donnell would be a central figure in the promotion of it. And whether the venue was the Rotary Club, the site of a newly erected building, a lake, ballfield or church, the press would be there to record his every word.
The next paper contained one such example that though high-lighting the judge’s dedication to social justice, suggested another group perhaps not so eager to reelect him.
Holier Than Thou Reformers Rapped by Probate Judge. “Women of the holier than thou type of reformer are a menace to Toledo, Probate Judge O’Brien O’Donnell told members of the Civics and Philanthropy Department of the Women’s Educational Club at a luncheon in the women’s building on Thursday noon: ‘If you go in for social work in needy homes, as a lot of Toledo women do, treat the people as your equal, or for God’s sake stay out of their homes,’ he said. ‘There is no place in social work for the self-satisfied woman who says to some overworked mother: Your floors must be scrubbed. Why don’t you wash your windows?, the minute she enters that house.’”
Mitchell smirked. He knew exactly the kind of self-righteous individuals to whom O’Donnell was referring, and he admired the judge for taking them to task, especially because many of them came from his own social circle. But surely, some of these women would be indignant over the judge’s reprimand, so much so that they might very well seek revenge in the ballot box. So too, no doubt, would some members of the community do the same in response to other strong stands O’Brien had taken, such as his support, reported on the following page, of a ban on the showing of a bigoted film entitled Nigger. That, as Mitchell himself wrote in a piece last week, would at least cost him the vote of the Ku Klux Klan, which was ominously gaining power in Ohio as well as in other states around the nation.
The slant of light streaming in the office windows, in addition to Mitchell’s audible hunger pains, signaled the noon hour. As was his custom, he reached in his desk drawer and retrieved the boxed meal he had packed for himself. Unlike most of the employees at The Blade who went out for lunch, Mitchell usually ate quietly at his desk. Although he appreciated a good restaurant as much as anyone else, he long ago realized that he was especially susceptible to the lure of alcohol at that time of day. And Volstead offered little comfort. He had overcome much greater obstacles than a silly law when he really wanted a drink. On more than one occasion early in his career, his propensity for noontime drinking had resulted in his failure to return to work. Years had passed since any of these incidents had occurred, but still he didn’t quite trust himself in the congenial atmosphere of Toledo’s lunch rooms. So as others made their way to Jake’s or Betty’s or Reed’s Chop House, a particular favorite of the press, Mitchell munched on his ham sandwich, apple, and cookie and continued to read.
When only crumbs remained, he wiped his mouth, tossed the garbage into an already overfull container, and took note of one further point before turning to the articles on the marriage. With few exceptions, O’Donnell’s leisure activities were scrupulously, if not obsessively, recorded by the press. Mitchell couldn’t recall any other official, or for that matter, any person at all, who received such attention. Fishing trips, hotel stays, even a simple night on the town instantly became public property. Such as the night of November 23rd, when the telepathist, Eugene de Rubini, came to Toledo. Although the pieces on this subject indicated that many of Toledo’s elite were in attendance, O’Donnell’s participation in the event received top billing. Quoted as saying that he had a “keen interest in the program,” it was the judge who was pictured with Rubini, and he whom reporters sycophantically followed both entering and exiting the theater. The only reference to other notables in the crowd that night indirectly related to O’Donnell as well. Charles Northrop, was mentioned, for example, but only with respect to his participation in an act O’Donnell had suggested, asking Rubini to find a hidden coin that ultimately wound up in Mr. Northrop’s coat pocket. Sarah Kaufman, the head of the Women’s Probate Court and frequently in O’Donnell’s company, was likewise mentioned in relationship
