It will be a fine thing for hotels, airlines, rental-car people and restaurants in Scottsdale. The average man need not expect any dramatic change in lifestyle. All of the available tickets will go to local politicians and business insiders. Cards' owner Bill Bidwill will take bows for bringing the game here. He will announce that sometime after the game, he will begin rebuilding his team. On game day, there will be a traffic jam.
On the other hand, for months in advance, you can expect a monotonous drum-beating for the event in the Arizona Republic and the Phoenix Gazette. Bill Goodykoontz, the Republic's trivia correspondent, will be named managing editor. Chief editorial writer William Cheshire will call it his most significant experience in journalism since the day he went to work for the Moonies in Washington, D.C.
Radio talk-show hosts will be enthralled by the game. Pat McMahon will interview Super Bowl-connected plumbers and electricians for months in advance. All of them (that is, the plumbers and electricians) will take credit for the passage of the Martin Luther King Jr./Civil Rights Day bill. Rush Limbaugh and Pat Buchanan will be honored guests in the expanded press box. On game day, there will be a traffic jam.
Arizona State University, the institution that can't find a way to provide enough English classes so students can graduate in four years, will gleefully spend still more millions to upgrade Sun Devil Stadium's playing field for the National Football League. The costs for the field will be passed on to taxpayers. Evan Mecham will be excoriated repeatedly for causing the game's original cancellation. He will deny responsibility and announce that he is running for governor again on a platform advocating the expulsion of all homosexuals from the state. On the day of the game, there will be a traffic jam.
2. Will Max Dunlap be convicted?
The trouble with old murder cases is that they are like twice-told tales. Nobody remembers the exact details. They begin arguing over who said exactly what. And soon everyone tires of the constant haggling.
No one is a more tiresome haggler than Murray Miller, Dunlap's defense attorney. A day in a courtroom with Miller is enough to make most judges and opposing attorneys ready to spend the night in a padded hospital room.
"Mr. Miller," Judge Norman Hall keeps saying, "let's not take six months on a case that needs only three. Let's move on."
But that's Murray Miller's secret. He never moves on. He never stops haggling. At the end of the day, only he appears unperturbed. The prosecution's case has now been presented by assistant attorney generals Fred Newton and Warren Granville. For those who watched regularly, it was a strong presentation.
John Harvey Adamson's testimony detailing his meetings with Dunlap was convincing.
On the other hand, the testimony by John Sellers, the former Phoenix detective who led the original investigation, was muddled and even suspicious. Sellers came across like a wise guy who was being deliberately evasive. Under Miller's cross-examination, he professed to remember almost no details of the case. It was an astonishing and troubling performance.
Sellers, now in retirement, had been hired by the Attorney General's Office as an investigator and well-paid for his work. His mysterious memory lapse makes one wonder about its root causes.
Sellers' performance was so strange that this alone might sow doubts in the minds of the jurors. In order to free Dunlap, Miller must convince the jury that there has been an elaborate conspiracy against him. But who had a motive to create such a plot?
Inevitably, Dunlap must take the stand to tell his own story. In the end, the jury will choose to believe either Adamson or Dunlap.
I went over to the North High School library the other day and looked up Dunlap's photos in the old yearbooks. When a librarian realized I was researching Max Dunlap, she thoughtfully produced a booklet listing some of the top North High graduates. Among them were Dallas Long, former U.S. Olympic shot-put champion, and Wayne Newton, the Las Vegas singer.
I found Dunlap's photos right away. In the courtroom, Dunlap is a tired and worried 64-year-old man. But in that 1948 copy of the Mustang, the youthful Dunlap is vital and handsome. He is shown being crowned king of his graduating class with a young girl named Jackie Ginn as his queen. According to the yearbook, the library was converted into a dance floor for the big celebration of that honor on the night of the homecoming football game.
In another photograph, Dunlap is shown as a member of the varsity basketball team on which he played all four of his years in high school. He was also a member of the Future Farmers of America club and he is shown there, too. It was through his activity with the latter group that Dunlap met his mentor, Kemper Marley.