Author Archives: lee

The thirteen seconds of gunfire changed not only my hometown but much more. Though it has been 51 years now, I remember the day well.

I believe I was the first person in my school to know of the shootings. I was out doing what I did every day around that time. While cutting school to ride around and smoke a couple of cigarettes, the news came over the radio. As to details, there weren’t any. I did know my uncle was there with the National Guard. Later, we learned that one of the people who was fired was from Mantua. I also knew my dad was probably in the area, and he was. He was having lunch, and at least one bullet went over the restaurant where he ate.

The guy I knew from town was a nice, decent guy. I had known him and his family for years. That’s how it is in small towns. His brother had been killed in Nam. I’ve heard some say that’s why he was fired. Completely false. His brother, another young man I knew well, actually better, died about two months later in what would be the last major battle of the war. However, the aftermath would still leave a lasting impact on a small town and the country.

Later, I attended Kent State University, and most of my classes were in the building you can see in the picture. I would later work on the college newspaper located in that building and had the opportunity to interview students and professors there that day. I do have to say that professors defused what happened immediately after.

From interviews and just general knowledge from reading, it still puzzles me why it happened. A protest covered by the First Amendment that turned violent is challenging to reconcile. However, the protest wasn’t peaceful, and not all of the protesters were students. Add in young, tired National Guardsmen who had been patrolling in the interstates during the trucker strike, and I’ve been able to understand the fear factor they must have felt.

I remember a man, Dr. Jerry Lewis, a sociology professor, whom I interviewed extensively. He invited me to attend his class at the site and described it to his students. I listened to what he said, but in my opinion, some of it was wrong. I told him why. It didn’t matter.

There would be another campus shooting 11 days later at Jackson State, killing two and wounding 12. Jackson State was a predominately black college, but few heard of it. I have a relative tell me he had no idea, never having heard of Jackson State, and concluded he had not because of racism. I disagreed and still do. Kent State so dominated the news in the days following May 4; it almost seemed as though nothing else was on the news. So, unless you were paying attention to the news, Jackson State didn’t seem to be on the national radar at the time.

Getting back to Kent State(this is an example of my stream of consciousness where I keep going without any clue where I’m headed), I’ve heard protesters referred to as “dirty hippies,” and the Guard referred to as killers or murderers. After about 50 years, I consider neither point valid.

The shootings at Kent State and Jackson State, for that matter, were tragic events. I can know to an extent how it feels to protest. I did it at Ohio State in 1972, although more as an observer. But I remember the feeling of police charging the crowd with riot batons and seeing students beaten to the ground around me. Not a good feeling.

But then I put myself in the shoes of the Guard on the hill who fired at Kent State and have wondered how I would have reacted-perhaps the same way. There is no way for me to know. It also means there is no way for others to know.

I recall one protest at Ohio State and how the police moved and trapped the crowd at what is known as Mirror Lake, I believe. The students were surrounded, and I anticipated the worst by police converging on the area, which provided no escape. They’d already used batons and nightsticks, so I waited for what I believed to be inevitable. But it didn’t happen. There was restraint, and we were told to disperse. Off we walked in different directions. Police officers were stationed along the streets, nightsticks in the hands of many, but the officers stood at attention.

One officer had a bandaged face. I was unsure why, but I stopped to ask him what happened. He had been hit in the face with a brick the night before by a student. But he was polite and not angry. This wasn’t exactly what I expected.

I’m no longer in a position to evaluate the events of May 4 as far as determining fault. What I mean is I’ve made up my mind. I know there have been changes in how the Guard is deployed, and I’m sure more professionalism, like the police officer I met at Ohio State. What I do know is I hope it never happens again.

Link:     Home (leethompson-law.com)

I found this quite by accident today. It’s my original website from 2005. The most surprising part is that it still works. It has a clock with the date, and both remain current. It goes back to the days when I still used Yellow Pages ads.

Being in the Yellow Pages was expensive but helpful even though many of my clients were by word of mouth. Today, the Yellow Pages are almost nonexistent. I don’t use it at all. I do a refined Internet search. It’s fast, and I get more information. 

It looks a little different here, but my cousin was taking a ride in northern Ohio and took a picture of this house recently. My dad and friends built most of it from 1964 to 1965. Almost every weekend and some evenings during the week, I was there helping—lots of shoveling, both dirt and gravel. 

During sixth grade, we lived in town above the bar my grandparents owned. Seven people cramped into a two-bedroom apartment with a converted room for my bedroom. It was a walk-through room for everyone, so there wasn’t much privacy. A major feature this place had over the first home was heat. Well, that and a lot more room.

The first home we lived in on Peck Road was about 700 square feet, and the only heat was a stove in the living room and opening the oven on frigid nights. I didn’t have a bedroom there either, and I was afforded little privacy. It was always cold in the winter. I liked it there, though. It had a great woods behind it for walking around all day or sitting in the woods daydreaming.

We moved to this home a month before 7th grade started. It wasn’t finished, but it was close enough. The floors were still plywood, and there were mounds of dirt out front. My dad and I cleared land by hand for two horses, built a couple of barns, and put in a fence, barbed wire, and electric. 

Clearing the land was done with a chain, tractor, and me with an ax chopping roots while he pulled the tree forward with the chain and tractor. Other times, we traveled back roads collecting rocks for the driveway. It had a spring under it, and we had to fill it. We’d load rocks, toss those in the driveway, and pound the rocks with sledgehammers, watching the rock and stone disappear before getting another load. Because horses like to eat bark, one of my jobs that seemed never ending was to creosote the remaining trees.

What looks like a new barn behind the house is different from the one we built. The one to the right looks like the one we built, but I’m unsure. The front yard looks different today, too. The fence along the right side wasn’t there either, nor were the rocks in the yard just above the four trees to the left in the picture.

When my grandfather died during my junior year, I moved back to the bar to be with my grandmother. We only lived about 3-4 miles from the bar, and my mom worked there, so I saw her most days.

By the way, for those who think having horses is fun, it’s not. They have to be watered and fed every day, and in the winter, I would go out before school, light paper on fire to thaw the outdoor spigots and carry buckets of water to fill their water. Getting hay wasn’t so bad, but you had to clean the barn, and in the winter with a pitchfork, it’s almost a joke to try to do it. I have other ideas of fun than chipping away frozen horse manure. 

We also staked the horses out to eat grass in the summer, which fell to me. It’s another great way to waste a day. Other people would ride, but not me; I got to the point where I hated the horses. My wife thinks the horses are a chick magnet. They weren’t for me; they were work. 

When my parents decided to sell the quarter horse, people came when my parents weren’t home. I sold the horse and threw in the saddle for a total of $125.00 to get rid of it. When my parents got home and found out, they wanted to get rid of me.

Fast-forward to around 2000, when I started dating my future bride, Dawn. At some point, when her parents deemed it okay to invite me to their home, I walked in, and it was like deja vu. Everything, with a tiny exception, was like the home pictured. Thinking about it, my dad helped build her home she moved to Mantua to begin ninth grade. I remember my dad took the original, reworked one small area upstairs, and made another change with the basement. 

I contacted the current owner when we decided to move back to Mantua. In calling, I wanted to see if he wanted to sell. No, he didn’t. When we found a home, I called again to see if he had changed his mind. He hadn’t. He did offer to let me stop by if I ever wanted to. That was 2022. 

Remembering his offer, I mentioned it to my wife, suggesting she experienced what I did a little over 20 years ago. She said yes. So, now I have to try to find his number again. 

1. I don’t need one; I don’t have anything.

Strangely, there have been occasions when I’ve agreed with this, but rarely. Everyone has property of some kind, and with no Will, your property will be distributed according to the laws of the State of Ohio. If you have children, all bets are off on this reason. It is then a matter of ensuring your children will be cared for when you’re gone. I’m not suggesting your children will end up wards of the state, but if you want any say in who will care for them, you should have a Will.

2. It’s too expensive, or it can be complicated.

Some simple estate planning techniques cost very little, saving thousands of dollars. I’ve talked to people who feel this way but have given some tips that can cost little. I also gave folks information on things they can do without cost but will save money later. And yes, it can be complicated, but for most people, it’s not. Not everyone needs to do extensive estate planning or have a trust. Most importantly, it buys peace of mind.

3. I don’t want to think about death and dying.

It is a matter of facing your mortality, to be sure. But the reality is, we’re all going to die. That sounds harsh, I guess, but it’s true. We just don’t know when. 

A final thought on Wills. The purpose is to make your final wishes known. You do this for peace of mind and for those you leave behind.

I just found this out while reading my Ohio State Bar news daily. James Edgar Robinson was a Justice on the Supreme Court of Ohio and the great-grandfather of former First Lady Barbara Bush. 

He was a Union County prosecuting attorney for two terms from 1900 to 1906. Robinson then went into private practice, but in January 1916, the governor of Ohio appointed him to the 3rd District Court of Appeals, which opened when a judge resigned. Unfortunately, the appointment didn’t go well. Ten months later, he lost his election bid for a full term.

His fortunes turned when he was elected to the Supreme Court of Ohio in 1918, taking his seat on the bench on January 1, 1919. Re-elected twice, Robinson died in office in 1932. Robinson was also a sixth cousin of British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, once removed.