Judge Marilyn Milian just might be my daytime television hero. That’s right readers, I am a fan of The People’s Court. I don’t know why, but whenever I hear the theme music and the announcer introduces the parties, I’m mesmerized. Reality TV might be notorious for manufacturing conflict, but I still love to sit back and watch the tempers flare from the safety of my living room.
Most conflicts people encounter in their daily lives are easily solved and forgotten. Arguments with spouses, neighbors and customer service representatives are usually settled quickly. But some disputes demand more of relationships, money, time and pride; these drag on much longer. They involve arguments and issues that can’t be talked out or settled with a simple compromise, and they go to court. These five cases — the thickest case files in the Boone County Clerk’s office — are just a few that face Columbia and surrounding communities.
When thinking about a rough-and-tumble bar, one would expect the most likely suspects to be out-of-the-way dives, the local legends talked about in hushed words and with shaking heads, the modern equivalents of Spaghetti Western saloons where horses are Harleys, but the Leone-style defenestrations still take place. But when Vox checked out the places that call the cops most often, we found that the list included our town’s well-known watering holes, and it seems these are the safest, not the most dangerous, spots. “Just because we get a lot of calls doesn’t mean a bar’s a dangerous bar,” says Sgt. John White of the Columbia Police Department’s Community Services Unit, who provided the numbers. “We teach the bars to call us before things get out of control.”
"I remember hearing about my great-grandmother, who had a corset and a pistol and was told she’d better be wearing both when she left the house,” says Remy Wagner, member of the State Historical Society of Missouri. And you thought history was boring. You might uncover exciting stories like this when you start digging into your own family’s past. Developing a family history is important not only because it shows where we came from but also because it teaches us about the present.
Songs can stick with you for decades. Just as the smell of Juicy Fruit gum evokes images of sleepovers in elementary school, hearing an almost-forgotten song can trigger almost-forgotten memories. Michael Budds, MU music professor, pegs the strong associations created by music on the emotional nature of teenage years. “The music listened to during youth is among the most profound attachments made during that very exciting time in one’s life,” he says.
Trained and keenly aware of the part they play, real-life American presidents try to exude the best persona possible to the American public. With releases such as Man of the Year and Air Force One, the movie industry also gives viewers a range of appealing made-up personas.
Three times a year, junior high students from across Columbia gather to take dance lessons from Columbia Cotillion. Forty dollars buys participants three dance lessons, admission to three dances, a cotillion scrapbook that includes professional photos and, hopefully, a little confidence. The students will learn to execute Western, ballroom and decade-specific dances, be assured a partner and meet new people with whom they might attend high school next year.
The Coons v. Berry et al. case file fills three accordion file folders that, when stacked together, are 10 inches deep.
An expanding manila file folder already measuring 4 inches thick contains the paper blizzard that this case has become. The lawsuit has generated 147 entries on the court’s docket since it was filed in April 2002, and there is still no end in sight.
There are many of years of legal work stuffed into this 5-inch-thick folder for a medical malpractice suit that has become one of the densest files in Boone County Circuit Court.
Two years of legal pileup and less than a mile of gravel road equals a case file more than 7 inches thick.
The case takes up nearly a foot of shelf space in the Boone County Clerk’s office. But for all the paper it has amassed, it’s a fluke that the case is in our courthouse at all.