I suppose by now that I have sung the national anthem for naturalization ceremonies in federal court at least 14-15 times.
I got this job due to the fact that the baritone criminal-defense lawyer that had been doing it told the United States District Clerk that he was quitting, and that Jim should retain me since I was a tenor who worked next door to the courthouse.
This kind of thing happens in showbiz a lot. Somebody quits. Somebody else comes on board.
Thus did I come to have the distinction of being known as the best classically trained tenor in the Federal Building. Uncle and I parted ways in 2011. So since then I guess I am the best classically trained tenor in the local Bar that the clerk has on speed dial.
I have been called worse.
It's an awesome gig. I try to get to the courthouse early on the day of the ceremony to avoid the jam at the security point by the entrance. If a color guard is present, I go through the drill with them beforehand. Unless it's the Junior ROTC kids from Catholic High. With them the reminder, "Just like at the ball game, boys. The flag is presented and the anthem follows," is all-sufficient.
Usually Jim takes me back to chambers to shake hands with the presiding judge before court is convened. I used to be scared to death of federal judges. Now I pretty much know them all. I go to church with three of them. I've known one of the senior-status judges forever. One of them lives down the street from me. One of them honks and waves when he sees me on his way home. And one of them represented a board I served on before she was transfigured.
Of course, the fear factor is greatly attenuated by the fact that none of us have to much fool with each other nowadays except when I am there to sing since I don't really practice law any more. It's a good deal for everybody.
The last time I was asked to serve was last July. It always occurs to me as I am sitting there waiting for the proceedings to begin that people who "hate the government" would do well to see one of these ceremonies. Of course, it also occurs to me that it might alarm them to see so many Asian, Hispanic, African and Arab folks assembled in one place.
But to some of these folks the government is run by a Muslim illegal immigrant who is trying to take away their guns and cut Medicare. If the average Tea Party adherent were to attend one of these ceremonies--assuming he or she could get through security--they would see something quite else: the magisteria of civil government in the service of people from foreign places near and far united in a common desire to become what some of us take for granted far too often.
The clerk calls "All rise!" and the judge takes the bench. I'm up there at the witness stand by this point in the proceeding. This gives me the perfect vantage point to observe my new fellow citizens when the judge appears. Some of them smile. Some of them are in tears. Some are transfixed. The judge has taken the bench. It's really happening. They are about to become Americans. And it is way heavy.
Consider the pertinent parts of the oath of allegiance to the United States on this score. This section pertains mostly to military service but the larger point is also undeniable:
"[I] will bear arms on behalf of the United States when required by the law, that I will perform noncombatant service in the Armed Services of the United States when required by the law, that I will perform work of national importance under civilian direction when required by the law ..."
This is a nation ruled by law. And as Judge Leon Holmes told the new Americans before him at my first naturalization ceremony, "The government is you and me." And pointing to himself said, "Today you are every bit as American as me. And don't you let anybody tell you any different."
One day as I was heading back to the office after a ceremony, I heard my name called. I recognized the man as a Korean gentleman who had just taken the oath a few minutes earlier.
"Sir," he said. "Can my wife take a picture of us together?"
"Me?" I said. "Why me? I'm nobody."
"Because you sang the national anthem on the day I became an American. Please. "
In that sacred moment I struggled briefly to regain the power of speech.
"Hell yes, Buddy," I said. "I would be honored to be in a picture with you."
I threw my arm around his shoulder. In one hand he held the flag given to him by the ladies from the DAR. In the other hand he held his new certificate of citizenship. And his wife took a picture of a whiskey-tenor lawyer and his fellow American.
Every bit as American as me, as Judge Holmes might say.
And every bit an American as Cliven Bundy as well.
Judge Billy Roy Wilson has said that the Holy Spirit descends upon both the jury room and the ballot box here in the United States of America.
I would also suggest that it also descends upon the naturalization courtroom. Here in the United States of America.
Here in the nation of immigrants.
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Arthur Paul Bowen is a writer and retired lawyer living in Little Rock.
Editorial on 08/08/2014