[blindlaw] Article about blind lawyer and judge in Idaho from Beta Theta Pi magazine Fall 2007

[Nightingale, Noel]

> Link:
> http://www.thebetathetapi.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=812&Itemid=97&ed=38
> 
> Text:
> Seeing the World      
> Late one evening in 1972, Harry Brose Turner, Idaho > '> 53, answered his doorbell and was confronted by a young man demanding, "Give me your money." He poked "something sharp" in Harry> '> s ribs. Harry swung around and tackled the youth. A neighbor saw Harry holding the man in a half-nelson and called police. Only when authorities arrived did Harry release his grip. It is said that the prisoner never confided to cellmates about his capture > ->  by a blind man.
> 
> Since the age of six, the Idaho lawyer/judge/legislator has baffled friends and befuddled onlookers with his uncanny ability to instinctively "see" what many sighted people do not and to "do" what many would not dream of attempting. He skis (both water and snow), golfs, fishes, kayaks, ice skates, swims, competed in track as a sprinter, plays a mean hand of draw poker, is a ukulele-strummer extraordinaire . . . even drives a car. For relaxation, he enjoys "watching" television and going to the movies.
> 
> "Harry sees the world [with] eyes we never can," noted one boyhood friend. He disdains dark glasses, the signature look of the blind. Instead, he recently acquired contacts with bright blue irises. "How do you like my new eyes," he asked with that infectious smile.
> 
> "Had he not suffered the accident, he might not have developed into the person he has become," suggested retired golf pro John B. Drips, Idaho > '> 53, whose high school friendship carried over to college days and beyond. 
> 
> Added another friend: "He was a blind boy who grew up and kept on seeing the world."
> 
> "One day we went salmon fishing off Ilwaco (Ore.)," recalled his neighbor Dwight Parrott. "Harry had caught four or five fish when he cast and the pole bent double. > '> I> '> ve got the big one!> '>  he shouted as he reeled in as fast as he could. Actually, a mallard had swooped down and swallowed his bait. Laughingly, I told him, > '> My gawd, Harry, you don> '> t have a license to fish for ducks!> '> "
> 
> The accolades cascade. "I think Harry has some sort of global positioning system in his head," noted Bob Drips, retired mining engineer and John Drips> '>  brother. Maj. Gen. David Gray, USAF (ret.) concluded, "Harry is the most courageous man I have ever known."
> 
> Now 80, Turner lost sight in both eyes after the knife he was using to open a package slipped and struck one eye. The resulting infection spread to the other eye. Doctors were unable to save his sight.
> 
> Even in high school, friends read to him. Blessed with a quick memory, he could do algebra in his head. "The football coach, Hank Bowers, taught math," Turner recalled. "Kids would go to the blackboard to work out the problems, and I would have the answers in my head before any of them finished."
> 
> In the Chapter house, Turner grew familiar with his surroundings, often leaping up stairs two at a time and turning into doorways without hesitation. On one lazy afternoon, he and others were battling with aerosol cans of shaving crème. Turner ducked into a room and locked the door. Believing it to be the room with a balcony, he learned the hard way that it was the adjacent room. He stepped out of the window and fell to the brick porch below. When his opponents finally forced the door, all they saw were the draperies wafting in the breeze. No Harry! He had simply collected himself and calmly walked upstairs to the sleeping dorm for a quick nap, leaving his brothers to wonder how he might have levitated to safety.
> 
> After law school, he passed the bar exam on his first try, then won a seat in the state legislature in 1956 after his first campaign. He was re-elected in 1958, 1960 and 1962.
> 
> One of Turner> '> s biggest fans is former General Secretary (1963-65) Paul P. Van Riper, DePauw > '> 38, his faculty advisor at Northwestern in the late > '> 40s. When Turner decided to transfer to the University of Idaho, Brother Van Riper encouraged him to look up Beta> '> s Gamma Gamma chapter. He did, and an entire new group of friends and brothers began experiencing Harry Turner stories to tell and retell.
> 
> "There were almost no cars on campus in the early fifties," recalled pledge brother Frank A. Shrontz, Idaho > '> 53, retired CEO of Boeing. "So several of us invested in an old model sedan. Because the car drank oil almost as quickly as it did gasoline, we nicknamed it > '> Shasta,> '>  which translated to > '> Shasta [she-has-to] have gas! Shasta have oil!> '>  One day, Harry insisted on > '> driving> '>  the clunker. So, with one brother on the hood and another in the passenger seat hollering instructions, Harry drove down the narrow campus street in front of the Beta house, cars parked on both sides. It> '> s a wonder he didn> '> t total them all."
> 
> Turner> '> s love of water skiing borders on legend. "Harry was the best. He had a monster ski," noted childhood friend Dick Roberts, a Twin Falls dentist. "I think the name of the ski was Little Monster. Harry would ski almost straight up, yacht hat askew and pipe in his mouth. He even took jumps. We> '> d also go scuba diving and snorkeling. Once, he was swimming and wound up alone in the lake. The rest of us were snorkeling. Harry lost track of the boat and swam the length of the lake. He wasn> '> t alarmed. He just kept swimming until we came along."
> 
> Bill Kendall, another friend, added, "Harry wanted to learn to kayak. So we taught him how to roll in the swimming pool, then went down in the Salmon River. It was wild. Lots of water. Harry turned over, hit a rock and broke his nose, but that didn> '> t stop him. He went back many times." 
> 
> A prominent lawyer, he won three of the four cases he argued before the Idaho Supreme Court. He became a judge himself > ->  eight years as a police judge and 12 years as a federal magistrate.
> 
> Fortunately, Turner has a remarkably quick memory. Two readings of a legal case, and he has it in his memory bank, a handy talent which lead to his Phi Beta Kappa honors. While his Beta brothers helped him through the days, the women of Delta Gamma sorority, across the street from the Beta house, read texts and briefs to him for four years.
> 
> A typical comment has always been, "Harry is always with a beautiful woman. He really knows how to pick > '> em."
> 
> After looking for "just the right woman" for some 55 years, Turner finally married in November 1998, at age 71. He shared his "I do> '> s" with Gerry Fox, a Delta Gamma who had read for him during their college days. The ceremony was packed with friends and brothers, including Professor Van Riper, who made the long trip to potato country from his home in Bryan, Texas. And, of course, greeted his Northwestern faculty advisor of so many years ago with, "Hello brother. It> '> s good to see you!" > ->  L.E. (Erv) Johnson, Idaho > '> 53 
> 
>  
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Article about blind lawyer and judge in Idaho from Beta Theta Pi magazine Fall 2007
Link:
http://www.thebetathetapi.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=812&Itemid=97&ed=38
http://www.thebetathetapi.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=812&Itemid=97&ed=38
Text:
Seeing the World     
Late one evening in 1972, Harry Brose Turner, Idaho ’53, answered his doorbell and was confronted by a young man demanding, "Give me your money." He poked "something sharp" in Harry’s ribs. Harry swung around and tackled the youth. A neighbor saw Harry holding the man in a half-nelson and called police. Only when authorities arrived did Harry release his grip. It is said that the prisoner never confided to cellmates about his capture — by a blind man.
Since the age of six, the Idaho lawyer/judge/legislator has baffled friends and befuddled onlookers with his uncanny ability to instinctively "see" what many sighted people do not and to "do" what many would not dream of attempting. He skis (both water and snow), golfs, fishes, kayaks, ice skates, swims, competed in track as a sprinter, plays a mean hand of draw poker, is a ukulele-strummer extraordinaire . . . even drives a car. For relaxation, he enjoys "watching" television and going to the movies.
"Harry sees the world [with] eyes we never can," noted one boyhood friend. He disdains dark glasses, the signature look of the blind. Instead, he recently acquired contacts with bright blue irises. "How do you like my new eyes," he asked with that infectious smile.
"Had he not suffered the accident, he might not have developed into the person he has become," suggested retired golf pro John B. Drips, Idaho ’53, whose high school friendship carried over to college days and beyond.
Added another friend: "He was a blind boy who grew up and kept on seeing the world."
"One day we went salmon fishing off Ilwaco (Ore.)," recalled his neighbor Dwight Parrott. "Harry had caught four or five fish when he cast and the pole bent double. ‘I’ve got the big one!‘ he shouted as he reeled in as fast as he could. Actually, a mallard had swooped down and swallowed his bait. Laughingly, I told him, ‘My gawd, Harry, you don’t have a license to fish for ducks!’"
The accolades cascade. "I think Harry has some sort of global positioning system in his head," noted Bob Drips, retired mining engineer and John Drips‘ brother. Maj. Gen. David Gray, USAF (ret.) concluded, "Harry is the most courageous man I have ever known."
Now 80, Turner lost sight in both eyes after the knife he was using to open a package slipped and struck one eye. The resulting infection spread to the other eye. Doctors were unable to save his sight.
Even in high school, friends read to him. Blessed with a quick memory, he could do algebra in his head. "The football coach, Hank Bowers, taught math," Turner recalled. "Kids would go to the blackboard to work out the problems, and I would have the answers in my head before any of them finished."
In the Chapter house, Turner grew familiar with his surroundings, often leaping up stairs two at a time and turning into doorways without hesitation. On one lazy afternoon, he and others were battling with aerosol cans of shaving crème. Turner ducked into a room and locked the door. Believing it to be the room with a balcony, he learned the hard way that it was the adjacent room. He stepped out of the window and fell to the brick porch below. When his opponents finally forced the door, all they saw were the draperies wafting in the breeze. No Harry! He had simply collected himself and calmly walked upstairs to the sleeping dorm for a quick nap, leaving his brothers to wonder how he might have levitated to safety.
After law school, he passed the bar exam on his first try, then won a seat in the state legislature in 1956 after his first campaign. He was re-elected in 1958, 1960 and 1962.
One of Turner’s biggest fans is former General Secretary (1963-65) Paul P. Van Riper, DePauw ’38, his faculty advisor at Northwestern in the late ’40s. When Turner decided to transfer to the University of Idaho, Brother Van Riper encouraged him to look up Beta’s Gamma Gamma chapter. He did, and an entire new group of friends and brothers began experiencing Harry Turner stories to tell and retell.
"There were almost no cars on campus in the early fifties," recalled pledge brother Frank A. Shrontz, Idaho ’53, retired CEO of Boeing. "So several of us invested in an old model sedan. Because the car drank oil almost as quickly as it did gasoline, we nicknamed it ‘Shasta,’ which translated to ‘Shasta [she-has-to] have gas! Shasta have oil!’ One day, Harry insisted on ‘driving’ the clunker. So, with one brother on the hood and another in the passenger seat hollering instructions, Harry drove down the narrow campus street in front of the Beta house, cars parked on both sides. It’s a wonder he didn’t total them all."
Turner’s love of water skiing borders on legend. "Harry was the best. He had a monster ski," noted childhood friend Dick Roberts, a Twin Falls dentist. "I think the name of the ski was Little Monster. Harry would ski almost straight up, yacht hat askew and pipe in his mouth. He even took jumps. We’d also go scuba diving and snorkeling. Once, he was swimming and wound up alone in the lake. The rest of us were snorkeling. Harry lost track of the boat and swam the length of the lake. He wasn’t alarmed. He just kept swimming until we came along."
Bill Kendall, another friend, added, "Harry wanted to learn to kayak. So we taught him how to roll in the swimming pool, then went down in the Salmon River. It was wild. Lots of water. Harry turned over, hit a rock and broke his nose, but that didn’t stop him. He went back many times."
A prominent lawyer, he won three of the four cases he argued before the Idaho Supreme Court. He became a judge himself — eight years as a police judge and 12 years as a federal magistrate.
Fortunately, Turner has a remarkably quick memory. Two readings of a legal case, and he has it in his memory bank, a handy talent which lead to his Phi Beta Kappa honors. While his Beta brothers helped him through the days, the women of Delta Gamma sorority, across the street from the Beta house, read texts and briefs to him for four years.
A typical comment has always been, "Harry is always with a beautiful woman. He really knows how to pick ’em."
After looking for "just the right woman" for some 55 years, Turner finally married in November 1998, at age 71. He shared his "I do’s" with Gerry Fox, a Delta Gamma who had read for him during their college days. The ceremony was packed with friends and brothers, including Professor Van Riper, who made the long trip to potato country from his home in Bryan, Texas. And, of course, greeted his Northwestern faculty advisor of so many years ago with, "Hello brother. It’s good to see you!" — L.E. (Erv) Johnson, Idaho ’53