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Have you read this week's epistle from Jules?

Episode 178

It Beats a Horse's Head. Or a Head of Lettuce...

     "Mr. Jutmoll," the lawyer says, standing up to greet him and extending his hand.

     Jutmoll shakes the outstretched hand. "Mr. Starbuck," he says softly.

     "Can I get you a coffee? A latte maybe, or a cappuccino?"

     "Just a regular coffee would be fine. Black."

     "That may be the first time anyone's ever ordered that here," Starbuck says with a smile.

     Jutmoll smiles in return.

     "I'll be back in a minute," the lawyer says. "Take a seat. Please."

     They are meeting in a Stubb's, a franchised coffeehouse that nowadays seems to be on every street corner in America, including this one half a block away from Nighten Day High School. Starbuck had been waiting for Jutmoll to arrive, sitting at a small table in a corner of the restaurant nursing a tall cardboard cup of something or other while reading the Wall Street Journal. The lawyer's leather briefcase is on the floor, leaning against his chair. As Jutmoll sits, he can see the hood of the black limousine out front that he is certain has brought his companion for this appointment.

     The coffeehouse is not very busy at ten o'clock in the morning, and Starbuck is already at the front of the ordering line. Jutmoll allows himself a moment's amusement of the irony of meeting Starbuck at a Stubb's, but decides not to comment on it when the lawyer returns placing a cardboard cup of black coffee in front of him. When an amusing comment has a less than one percent chance of actually amusing someone, it is hardly worth the trouble. Either Starbuck is constantly set up for jokes about his name, or he isn't. Considering what Jutmoll knows about Starbuck's clients, he doubts if a lot of them have done all that much heavy mining in the caves of American literature.

     "I really appreciate your taking the time to meet me here like this," the lawyer begins.

     Jutmoll nods as he sips his coffee. It is hot and strong. Too hot and too strong, as if they've been cooking it for weeks at progressively higher temperatures.

     "You have to be wondering what this is all about."

     "I am indeed, Mr. Starbuck."

     The lawyer reaches down for his briefcase. "I won't beat around the bush because I know you have to get back to the school. It's about the debate team. I understand you've had to disband them."

     "I'm afraid so." The white-haired man lowers his eyes. He does not think he likes the idea of discussing something this important with a stranger like Starbuck.

     "Debate was very good for young Buglaroni. And the other kids too."

     "Speech and debate are good for most kids, Mr. Starbuck."

     "I have to agree, from what I've seen, sir. I can only wish I had had a debate team when I had gone to high school. It might have helped me make a few conclusions about life a lot earlier than I otherwise did. "

     "About becoming a lawyer?"

     "That, and some other things," Starbuck replies enigmatically.

     "We argue a lot about ethics," Jutmoll says.

     "So do I, Mr. Jutmoll. Nearly every day of my life." The lawyer reaches into his briefcase, the leather of which looks nearly as soft as his suit. He pulls out an unsealed envelope, opens it, and scans a typed sheet of paper. "My client wishes to do something about the unfortunate disbandment of your team."

     "Your client? You mean Buglaroni?"

     "A different client."

     Jutmoll cocks a white eyebrow. "The Vitelli family?"

     Starbuck nods almost imperceptively.

     Jutmoll hands him back the sheet of paper without reading it. "I don't think so, Mr. Starbuck."

     "I wish you would take a moment to listen to me, Mr. Jutmoll. First of all, my client, Proscenio Vitelli, is a highly respected businessman with quite a number of legitimate concerns throughout the country."

     Jutmoll does not argue the point.

     "Secondly, my client, because of his relationship with the Buglaroni family, has learned that because of lack of funds at your school, you have been forced to eliminate an important and valuable extracurricular activity from the lives of your students. My client, who engages in countless charitable ventures, would like to do something about this. He proposes to endow your team in perpetuity with an annual amount of up to fifty thousand dollars, depending on expenses."

     "Fifty thousand dollars," Jutmoll repeats. "That is the most amazing thing I've ever heard."

     "Too low?"

     "Too high. Thank God. Debating is expensive, but it isn't that expensive. Our team gets by on about half that."

     "As I said, we will endow up to that amount. Less is better."

     "Less is more, but that's beside the point. The school won't let me accept this money under these conditions."

     "I've already made preliminary investigations with the school board. I would suggest that, from my discussions with them, they would be more than happy to accept almost any money under almost any conditions, especially with the new baby boomlet coming up over the next few years."

     Jutmoll shakes his head. "I just don't understand this."

     "What is there to understand? My client wishes to make a charitable contribution, for which he will be able to claim a bona fide tax exemption. People do it all the time."

     "Not with Mafia money." Jutmoll immediately regrets the words after he speaks them.

     Starbuck is unaffected. "I don't know anything about the Mafia, Mr. Jutmoll, except what I see in the movies. I do know that my client has only the most unsullied motives in making this contribution."

     Jutmoll takes a sip of his coffee. It is cooler now, but still strong enough to chop up into Legos. "And there's no strings attached to this? Like maybe making Buglaroni captain, or something like that?"

     "This behest is not made in regards to Mr. Buglaroni's presence or absence on the team. There are no stipulations whatsoever, except that I be allowed occasionally to visit with the team, either here or on the road."

     "Visit with the team?"

     "I would personally love to do it. I would enjoy judging for you, if the need and opportunity arose. You always need judges, don't you?"

     Jutmoll is nodding. "Like a vulture needs carrion." Although that may not be the best metaphor, he thinks, under the circumstances.

     "And if I can't judge, I can still meet with the students and report back to my client on their development. I can also provide legal advice to them."

     "They don't get arrested all that often, Mr. Starbuck."

     "I meant, advice relevant to the topics they are arguing. There usually are legal aspects to the resolutions, aren't there?"

     "Usually, yes."

     "So what do you think?"

     Jutmoll is silent for a moment. Finally he says, "I don't know."

     Starbuck hands him back the paper again. "Read this. Keep it. It is not a contract, just an explanation. My number is on the letterhead. You can call me when you make up your mind. Or if I don't hear from you in a few days, I'll call you." He rises from his chair. "It was good seeing you again, Mr. Jutmoll." He extends his hand once more.

     Jutmoll also rises. "And you, Mr. Starbuck."

     "You must have to get back to class. Can I drop you off at the school? My car is right out front."

     "No. That's all right. It's only a little way."

     "Very good then. I'll talk to you soon."

     "Right."

     And the lawyer is on his way out the door.

     Jutmoll looks at his watch. He has about ten minutes to get back to class.

     And then he's got a whole lot of thinking to do.

     Fifty thousand dollars a year.

     As they say in Afghanistan, mes etoiles!

Will Tarnish Jutmoll accept a tarnished endowment?

Is the Vitelli family willing to pay up to fifty thousand dollars to have access to Griot Goldbaum's sports prediction skills?

Would it have been funnier to call it Ahab's coffeehouse?

Is there some good reason, if none of this Starbuck/Stubb/Ahab business makes no sense to you, that you're not jumping up from your chair and grabbing your copy of Moby Dick and digging in so that you'll finally be the literate person you should be?

Have you seen a great white whale?



Call me Ishmael in our next episode: "I would, but I don't have your cell phone number."

Go to the next episode due Oct 31, 2001.