Laguna Honda sounds like a car, but it’s a hospital. It’s an almshouse in San Francisco, a place of refuge for several thousand people. It’s the last such institution in America: not an homage to high-tech mechanized medicine, like every other hospital in the country, but more of a garden in which waifs and strays who can’t go home because they have no home to go to, who can’t be cared for in the community because they have no community, can instead be regenerated. It’s a kind of New Orleans Superdome without the drama and urgency and horror but with the same slow-burning, mirror-to-the-nation pathos.
Spring books. Richard Lischer on a book's life; Valerie Weaver-Zercher on Amish fiction; eight preachers on what else they read besides commentaries.
Lord have mercy
Apr 09, 2015
A. M. Stroud III, a former prosecutor in Louisiana, expresses regret for the role he played in sending Glenn Ford to death row in 1984. “I was 33 years old. I was arrogant, judgmental, narcissistic and very full of myself. I was not as interested in justice as I was in winning.” Stroud says he presented dubious evidence from a forensic pathologist, precluded black jurors from the trial (Ford, since exonerated, is black), and ignored the fact that the appointed defense attorney had never before tried a criminal or capital case. “I . . . hope that providence will have more mercy for me than I showed Glenn Ford,” Stroud said in a letter to the editor of the Times of Shreveport. “But, I’m also sobered by the realization that I certainly am not deserving of it” (ABA Journal, March 25).