The Man I Feared Might Get Me Jailed Helped Set Me Free

by Gary Wunder

When I came into the Federation, Kenneth Jernigan was the national President. That was 1972, and I wouldn't meet him until attending my first national convention in 1977. I remember hearing a voice in the Braille Monitor and at that first convention on the microphone, and the name associated with it was Marc Maurer. Sometimes he was identified as the president of the National Federation of the Blind’s student division. Sometimes he came to the microphone as the chairman of the PAC Plan. Sometimes he was introduced as this young lawyer from Iowa who had quite a future.

I don't think I really got to know him until 1984. He came to help with a squabble or two we were having in Missouri. For about a decade we were involved in a fight to use the name National Federation of the Blind of Missouri. We were sued a number of times by the Missouri Federation of the Blind (the American Council of the Blind affiliate) and were eventually told we could not use the words Federation, blind, and Missouri in any combination. This hurt our morale and confused our relationship with the National Federation of the Blind. Marc Maurer came to see if he could help.

The Missouri Federation of the Blind had recently voted to change its name to the Missouri Council of the Blind to better reflect its own national affiliation, but the organization had no intention of relinquishing its former name or releasing us from the terms of the lawsuit. What it had not done was check to see if the name it intended to use was available through the office of the Missouri Secretary of State. When it did, it found that there were a number of corporations already in existence. One was the Missouri Council of the Blind; one was the American Council of the Blind of Missouri. There may have been one other, but all of them shared a noble purpose and were filed with our secretary of state by a lawyer named Maurer. They were all run by Gary Wunder. The organization wanting to call itself the Missouri Council of the Blind wrote several letters to me suggesting that I would be taken to court, might have to pay a fine, and might be jailed. I didn't know much about the law, but I knew enough to know that court and jail were not on my bucket list. I nervously talked with Lawyer Maurer, who was considerably less upset than was I. He was almost dismissive, and I wondered if this would be his attitude when they came to take me away and when I would have to make my case to get out. In desperation I called Dr. Jernigan, at that time Lawyer Maurer’s boss, and whined to him. He assured me no one was going to jail, that our lawyer knew what he was doing, and that I should relax and give it some time.

So we waited, I sweated, and soon we could use our rightful name. So too could the Missouri Council of the Blind, a real win for all involved. That's the story that almost got me jailed. That’s the story that started to convince me that the lawyer from Notre Dame knew a lot more about the law than I did and that part of being a Federationist was learning to trust.

Here is the second story, one that set me on a career path I could never have imagined. This time our lawyer was in St. Louis working on other business. We started talking about his visits, and I observed that people reading the Braille Monitor should know more about the controversies going on in Missouri. With that comment I intended to not so subtly imply that perhaps one of Lawyer Maurer's neglected jobs was to write an article. He caught on right away and said, "Yes, there should be an article.” Ah, such was the power of persuasion I brought to things. “What about you writing it?" he asked. That was a turn in the conversation I hadn’t anticipated. Saying no wasn’t an option, especially since it was my idea that the people had a right to know. In that small crowd of Missourians and our lawyer, I had to admit I wasn’t sure how to begin. "Begin at the beginning,” he said. "Often the hardest part of writing an article is getting started. Do you have a tape recorder? I'll show you."

I almost always had a recorder, so I showed him how to pause and resume recording, and he got to his feet and started to pace. The room was narrow but long, and back and forth he went, outlining why we were in the courts and what we were fighting about. About five minutes into it, he stopped, gave me back the recorder, and said, "Now transcribe this, fill out the story, and finish it."

"Me?” I said.

"Who better than you? When you've transcribed, added to it, and polished it enough that you consider it finished, call me with your draft. You can read it over the phone, and I'll give you suggestions."

"I’ll probably need many of them. You'll probably have to finish the article."

"I don't think so," he said, and then he was off to the airport, and I was off to see whether I could write an article fit for the Braille Monitor.

A week or so went by, and with some trepidation I called with my draft and shyly asked for Mr. Maurer. After what seemed an eternity on hold, a familiar voice came on the line but not the one I expected. It was Dr. Jernigan, and he urged me to begin reading. I did, he made three corrections, and I was in the Monitor. Marc Maurer never spoke up to say that the initial construction was his or demanded to be on the byline. He now claims he doesn’t even remember this incident, but I remember it well enough for us both, and it convinced me that his faith was not misplaced.

I got to know Dr. Maurer much better when I joined the national board in 1985. Since then I have marveled at the work he has done year after year: the crowded three-day board agendas, the ever-exciting convention agendas, the presidential reports that really did get better each year, and coming up with something new and different to say about long-established themes in a much-anticipated banquet speech.

What I most admired about my friend and colleague in our early days was the way he followed Dr. Jernigan and saw it as a privilege rather than a burden. If he diverged even a little from the way Dr. Jernigan did something, the critics, of which there were many, observed that he was no Dr. Jernigan; if he followed in his mentor's footsteps, he lacked creativity and was a Jernigan imitator. I was awed by anyone who would take on what I saw as a tremendously difficult job and irritated that people would make fun of him. But at that time I didn't have the backbone to say so. I hoped my silence would communicate that I wasn’t playing that game, but in my heart I knew it demonstrated a weakness and was a poor substitute for standing with a man facing the most difficult and consequential time in his life. Hearing someone out with respect is one thing, but failing to say how I felt was cowardly and unworthy of the friendship I wanted from him and intended to show him.

As I watched in those first few years, I asked myself again and again how he could win, but he won and did so with distinction. Marc Maurer came to be the longest-serving President in the history of the Federation, and he did so by keeping with tradition when it served, coming up with new programs when we needed them, being strong when we needed steadfastness and strength, and being compassionate when we needed a listening ear and a feeling heart. If things were tough for him, he seldom showed it; but when things were tough for me, he was my confidant, wise advisor, and steady friend.

Marc Maurer’s accomplishments in office are significant. Learning how to use the ADA has to be one of the major ones. Figuring out how to fund, build, and use the Jernigan Institute certainly is another. But other things also deserve notice and comment. I admire the way he energetically kept doing the day-to-day work of the Federation and at the same time found time to think about and plan for the future and where we needed to be in five or ten years. I admire the fact that he did not think he had to choose between Federation and family and that he has a wife and two fine children to show that love isn’t just a feeling but love is something that you do. I will be forever grateful for the fact that Marc and Patricia Maurer had a large Federation family and that I was one of those they invited to their home and to their table. Above all, I am glad that he decided to use his talent and energy to help me and thousands of other blind people do more than we thought we could do and become more than we dared dream. This is a gift that I cannot give to him, so I will do what so many of us do: work to keep alive for others the hopes and dreams he made possible for us through sustaining and growing the organization we share.

I want to wind up this tribute with a nod to my drinking buddy, Patricia Maurer. It might appear to be unseemly to recognize her in this way, but I bet it draws a smile as she reads it. You see, neither of us are real consumers of alcoholic beverages, and when asked if we want a drink, we tease that we prefer a thimble full or half a sippy cup. Both of us admire the knowledge and appreciation that Dr. Maurer has for fine wines, so we ask for just enough to taste and have something with which we can make a toast. Patricia was particularly helpful to me when I wanted to bring my daughter Missy to Baltimore, and she would often arrange for my little girl to have playmates while I was in meetings. Missy has fond memories of those times and of her friendship with Dianna and David Maurer. So often unsung are the people who give our heroes time to do what we recognize them for, but Patricia has managed to be a supportive rock and at the same time has established a place of honor for herself through her volunteer and paid work as the voice of the Federation to those on the other end of the phone who are searching for a lifeline. We couldn’t have asked for a more patient ambassador, someone who would bring a message of hope without scaring the sometimes fragile people who thought that their lives or the lives of those they loved were over. Both they and we have been exceedingly blessed by this wonderful couple who allowed their lives and hours to become intertwined so that truly we were a part of one, big Federation Family.