Cerebral palsy is a condition that affects motor, not mental, skills. Deficiencies in motor skills affect appearance, and in a world where appearances count, cerebral palsy can put one who lives it at a disadvantage.
The Arizona Republic article, below, by John Faherty, who seems to be an excellent reporter, is about a young man who put his mind to good use, became an attorney, found employment with the Arizona Attorney-General's Office, and is scheduled to represent his state before the United States Supreme Court next week.
His name is Randall Howe, who speaks slowly and chooses his words carefully, of more than usual necessity. He's been arguing before the appellate courts of Arizona for years. He supervises over a dozen other attorneys in his office. When the A-G was looking for the best attorney to represent the state before the high court, Howe was chosen.
When the going gets tough, you might do well to remember this guy.
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Attorney
suited for success
Lawyer prepares to represent Arizona in case before U.S. Supreme Court
John Faherty The Arizona Republic Apr. 16, 2006 12:00 AM Randall Howe stands before the mirror and inspects his tie.
Using practiced moves with his one good arm, he works the Windsor knot, then a buttonhook to tighten his collar. Only when everything is just right will he begin his day. Routine and appearance are important to Howe because he does not define himself by his disability and he won't let you do it either. If that means waking up an hour earlier than he would like to, then the alarm gets set for 5 a.m., because if people expect a lawyer to show up in a nice suit and tie, then that's what he'll do. Today, Howe, 42, flies to Washington, D.C., to prepare for the biggest moment of his legal career. After 17 years with the Arizona Attorney General's Office, he will argue on Wednesday before the U.S. Supreme Court in a case involving the murder of a Flagstaff police officer. Howe expects his legal reasoning will be so airtight, so persuasive, that the justices peppering him with questions will not see a man with cerebral palsy. They will not see a man with a pronounced limp or hear a man with a significant speech impairment. All they will see is a man with a brilliant legal mind and a perfect tie. Mother's dedicationRandall Howe does not know if the woman who gave him up for
adoption knew he had cerebral palsy. But he knows he was fortunate to
be adopted by David and Marie Howe. The couple could not have children so they adopted. First one son and then a daughter. Shortly after the adoption, the daughter was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and mental retardation. The Howes were advised to surrender custody and place the girl in an institution, which they did. The decision devastated Marie Howe. Two years later, in 1963, the Howes adopted another child, Randall. In a remarkable coincidence, he too was diagnosed with cerebral palsy. Marie would not - could not - give up another child. Marie Howe was a strong, practical woman, a product of the Depression who believed in hard work and education. She would keep Randall and raise him the best she could. He would succeed. He would take advantage of every opportunity presented to him, and fight for every one denied him. She would make sure of it. They lived in Brighton, Colo., a small city northeast of Denver. This was the 1960s, before the Americans with Disabilities Act and before rights for the disabled were even discussed. When it came time for Howe to go to school, the school district balked at accepting this child in a wheelchair. His mother insisted. The district made him take a test to prove he was capable of learning. He did well, and the district had to accept him. But after four days, the principal told the family that Howe could not stay. That's when Howe first glimpsed his mother's tenacity. Howe's father was a machinist, and his mother stayed at home. With little money to spare, they hired a tutor for Randall and threatened the district with lawsuits. Finally, another school offered to accept Randall. For the next six years, Marie Howe drove her son back and forth across town to make sure he was educated. Twice a week she also drove 50 miles to Denver and back for physical and occupational therapy. None of this came off as a burden to Howe's mother. She simply did what needed to be done, an attitude passed on her son. "She treated me just as she treated my older brother. She certainly wasn't unkind or uncaring, but she only knew one way to raise a child," Howe said. "She instilled in me a belief that my disability did not matter in terms of who I was or what I was going to be." When Howe was 9 years old, he decided to get out of his wheelchair and only use his cane. He fell a lot. When he crashed to the floor, his father would swoop in, pick him up and dust him off. Not his mother. She would look at Howe and say, "Get up." Growing upCerebral palsy damaged specific parts of Howe's brain that involve his ability to control movement. He has a bad arm and a bad leg. His posture is slumped, and his speech is slurred. Howe has worked for years to improve his speech, and while a listener has to pay close attention, he is definitely understandable. In high school, his speech was worse. And he stuttered. Despite Howe's trouble talking, the debate coach recognized the 15-year-old boy's bright, competitive mind. Steve Payne, now a principal, remembers, "I walked up to him and said, 'You are just so dang smart, let's get you onto debate.' And he said, 'Well, I don't speak very well.' "I told him that what's important is what you say, not how you say it." Howe joined the debate team, slowly began to lose his stammer, and enjoyed some success. He also displayed the mental focus that would help him succeed throughout his life. Leaving homeHowe graduated from high school in 1981 and that fall left home for Arizona State University. He looked forward to college. He also desperately wanted to drive, something his mother had decided he could not do. In Tempe he approached a counselor in the school's Disabled Student Resource Office, Neil Giuliano, later mayor of Tempe. Howe asked what it would take for him to drive. Giuliano says that "was fairly typical of Randy: 'Just tell me what I need to do.' " Giuliano found a modified vehicle and an instructor. The next hurdle was Howe's. Howe never used his right arm very much because his left was more capable. The instructor told him he had to use both. So Howe spent hours at a time in a parked car working the steering wheel back and forth with his right arm. Eventually he built up the strength and got his license. At college Howe finally found a more even playing field. The taunts and insecurities of high school were behind him. Here he would be judged by academic achievement. "Growing up, there was so much I couldn't do," Howe said. "Doing well in school and succeeding academically was my way of expressing that I was as good or better than all of the people who were teasing me." After four years at ASU, he graduated as valedictorian. And he wanted to be a lawyer. More barriers Howe has a mind for law - bright, logical, patient and competitive.Still, in his first year at ASU's law school, he struggled to get the hang of what he called a "new way of thinking." But gradually he made it his way of thinking. He especially loved the competitive back and forth of practice trials. He saw himself working in a courtroom one day. As he neared graduation, there were other lessons. During his last year Howe was a summer intern at a Phoenix law firm. He arrived for work the first day in a clip-on tie. He realized his fashion mistake immediately. But he had never learned to knot a tie. So, as he had learned to drive, he spent hours in front of the mirror every night after work until he could tie one to his own exacting standards. Today, Howe admits to being something of a clotheshorse. He enjoys looking good, and there are practical reasons. "Having a disability, you are not viewed as attractive. Dressing well helps." In 1988, Howe graduated from ASU's law school in the top fifth of his class. And he had a job interview with a law firm. During the interview, one of the partners asked what kind of law he wanted to practice. Sensing they were sizing up his appearance, and wanting a job, Howe said banking. "Good," the partner said, and Howe knew they did not see him in a courtroom. Two weeks into the job a partner approached him. The man told Howe that before they met with clients he would "prepare" them for Howe. Howe was more surprised than angry. "I never thought I needed somebody prepared to meet me." But there was no time to work things out. A week later, the firm announced layoffs. As last hired, Howe was first to go. Another chanceLosing his job, Howe regrouped and made a plan. As he sorted through his jagged feelings, he could not let go of how much he loved the atmosphere of a courtroom. A few weeks later there was a job posting in the appellate division of the Arizona Attorney General's Office. With strong recommendations from his law professors and attorneys from the firm that laid him off, Howe was hired. An appellate lawyer needs to be knowledgeable about the law, convincing in his arguments, quick and competitive. In the appellate division Howe was put on cases, researched, wrote briefs, and argued before judges. He carved out a niche in appellate advocacy, a type of legal work that places Howe in a courtroom where he makes legal arguments to judges who are questioning the validity of lower court rulings. Vice Chief Justice of the Arizona Supreme Court Rebecca Berch first met Howe when she taught him in law school. Now she listens to his arguments in court. "He is a very patient person," Berch said. "He has a very logical and organized mind, which allows him to be an effective advocate." Gov. Janet Napolitano worked with Howe as state attorney general. "He is very smart," the governor said. "Quick on his feet. His speech is slow, but I think judges listen more carefully to him." When Napolitano was schedule to argue before the Supreme Court, she turned to Howe. "He helped me prepare." Today, he is the chief counsel of the Criminal Appeals Section at the Office of the Attorney General and oversees 19 lawyers. "This has been the perfect job for me. Nobody has ever said I wasn't capable of being in the courtroom, and I have argued about 70 times before the Court of Appeals, the 9th Circuit and the state Supreme Court." Living aloneAway from work, Randall Howe is a very social man."When I was a boy, even when I could not speak well, I distinctly remember one morning my brother turning to my mother and saying, 'Mom, would you shut him up?' " He enjoys history and drama, and admits a weakness for Meg Ryan movies. He makes friends easily and keeps them for a long time. But living with cerebral palsy has not been easy. "The big downside of having a disability, apart from the physical, is that it makes you different, and I have always harped about not being different." It is fair to say his Phoenix home is in desperate need of a woman's touch. He has lived there for nearly 10 years, but it looks as if he moved in last month. Before his mother died in 2003, she told him he should find someone and settle down. Howe has had his share of relationships over the years, but as with many people, the career came first. Howe has been with his current girlfriend, also an attorney, for five years. Preparing his caseA month before his Supreme Court date, Howe is at his office studying a large green book, Supreme Court Practices. The book is 1,290 pages on how to write briefs for the court, how to address the judges, even which door to use. What it does not include is a passage on how to address the court with a significant speech impediment. Like everything else in his life, Howe has devised a way to work around his physical limitations. "I have to pick and choose what I say. I know judges at the Arizona Supreme Court pay attention because they know I wouldn't say it unless it really matters." When selecting one of his lawyers to represent Arizona before the Supreme Court, the attorney general asks pointed questions. Does the person know the law? Have enough experience? Perform under pressure? Additional questions were asked about Howe because of his condition. "You don't take chances before the Supreme Court," said Attorney General Terry Goddard. "We had discussions, putting everything on the table, and asked, who is going to make the best case for the state? We picked him because we think he is the most effective advocate we could have." When asked if he knew those discussions were held, Howe said, "No," paused and swallowed hard. "I am not surprised. My disability has always loomed much larger for other people than it has for me." Personal goalWhat Howe wants this week is to win his case. He does not want to
be held up as an example or praised for overcoming a handicap. "Having a disability does not make you any more noble than anyone else," he said. Howe cringes when he is called special. He admits to working hard, being smart. But not special. "I've been called that before, and it either consciously or unconsciously puts a distance between me and people. It makes me different." That may be what bothers Howe most of all about his condition. He wants to be known as a good person or a good lawyer. He wants to be known for his accomplishments, not for what he had to overcome. He does, however, recognize that he learned much from his mother. He knows it must have been more difficult for her not to pick him up than it was for him to get up on his own. He cannot separate his life from his condition and is at peace with that. "I would rather not be disabled, you would be nuts not to, " Howe said. "But being disabled has made me who I am, and I like who I am." Reach the reporter at [email protected].
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