Dad always had high hopes and big plans for “The Beast,” which was his nickname for Joe.
In our family home in Franklin, Mom and Dad lined the wall along the upstairs steps with our senior photographs – first me, then John, Jenny, Julie and then, supposedly, Joe. But Joe’s photo was of some sort of scary orangutan, a beast that was always on guard, apparently in case anyone got out of line.
“Who’s that?” a visitor would ask, pointing at the Beast.
“That’s Joey,” Dad would respond, “on a good day.”
Hmm. If Joe has always been regarded as one-part prankster and one part smart aleck (Sherry Davis Lautenslager, do you agree?), I wonder where get got it from.
Maybe Dad knew that as the youngest, Joe needed to be toughened up instead of spoiled, and pushed instead of coddled. If that was the design, it certainly paid off.
As a kid, Joe was a standout running back who played in Franklin’s Super Bowl. Later, in high school, he made audiences laugh in his leading role in all of the school plays. After college, he had a brief stint with Channel 7 and with Cincinnati Insurance Company.
Joe is a judge now at the Warren County Juvenile-Probate Court, something I’m sure Dad would beam about with total pride. He practiced law for 40 years and paved the way for both Joe and me. Go through the list of prominent old school Warren County judges and lawyers, and every one of them knew Dad.
But what impressed Dad the most about Joe was his service to the U.S. Air Force, first as a pilot and then as a Major in the JAG Corp reserves. Dad was in the Air Force back in the 50s, and if there was one dream he had above all others, it was to be a fighter pilot.
One day Dad was sitting and talking with Ed Lawson, another Springboro lawyer who was an officer in the U.S. Army.
“Do we have to stand and salute when you walk into a room?” Ed jokingly asked Joe.
“I would never ask that of a civilian,” Joe responded. “But you do. On your feet, soldier.”
Until his death six years ago, Dad always got a chuckle out of Joe.
Dad would often reflect on how fortunate he became in life. Back when we were kids, he would say he had no money and no prospects and no one to turn to if he needed help. He hitchhiked his way through college and law school, completing both with four screaming kids and an orangutan.
Somehow, he made it. He was happy he and Mom were able to give all of us an easier life than they had.
“I don’t worry about you and Kim,” Dad would tell me during his daily lunchtime State of the Union address. “John’s got his comedy, Jenny and Terry have a good head on their shoulders, and Julie – as long as she stays healthy – knows how to take care of herself.”
I’d say, “I’ll bet Joe becomes a full-time judge someday.”
Dad would crack up. “I know. I never saw that coming when he was a kid. But he’s always been the center of attention, so I’d say that’s a perfect fit,” he’d say.
Now, when Joe walks into a room, people stand, even civilians.
Now, he presides over a court staff of more than 100 and a caseload that is as demanding as any you will find.
And now, when you see the photographs of all the Warren County Probate-Juvenile Judges who have served in the last 50 years, you see Judge William Bowers, Judge Jack Tracy, Judge Mark Clark, Judge Michael Powell and then one more.
No orangutans.
Dad would definitely approve.