My name is Charles Havers Jameson. A tall, good-looking black gentleman with a body that both sexes can’t help but stare at. I’m the man who’s going to dazzle you with the story of his life. I’m a senior partner at Darwin & Jameson, one of the top law firms in the Boston Area. I love my job. Practicing law is what I do. The firm got started ten years ago. I had just passed the bar exam when my former roommate and college buddy James Darwin approached me. He attended Morehouse College with me before moving to Massachusetts, and graduated from Suffolk Law School two years ahead of me and had been practicing law for some time. He wanted to start his own firm. So, we joined forces and made it happen. Ten years later, our firm had sixteen lawyers and was considered one of New England’s best criminal defense law firms.
All of our lawyers were black men. We didn’t hire female attorneys or male attorneys of other races. Darwin & Jameson is staying an all-black and all-male club. Why? Simply because we’re intelligent black men united for a common cause. Who are our secretaries? Young black men with excellent typing and computing skills selected from undergraduates at schools in the Boston Area. The only female at the office is my godmother, Elisabeth Jameson. She enjoys working for us. She’s the only female I trust. After that, I don’t need anybody else and the other lawyers at the firm feel exactly the same way. Nobody is a liability. Nobody makes false allegations of harassment. I run a tight ship and we’re keeping it that way. We’re not trying to expand. We’re not bringing in new players. We’re consolidating and keeping the power we have. That’s the way it’s gonna be.
Our offices are located on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston, not far from Bay State College, from which we selected a few of our male secretaries. I like to give talented young black men a chance. I felt that life gave me a chance when I won an academic scholarship to Morehouse College, fourteen years ago. I’ve done fine ever since. Thank heavens for that wonderful school. No better place for educating young black males. I love Atlanta and it’s the city of my birth but in the past few years, Boston has become home. I’ve grown accustomed to Bean Town and the busy, pseudo-intellectuals and mundanes who make up most of its population.
These days, I’m on vacation. Last year, the firm’s net income was nineteen million dollars, after taxes. We were suddenly on the map. We had become a powerhouse in New England and could do just about anything we wanted. And since we were virtually immune from frivolous lawsuits the way other firms could never be, I think our place in the legal landscape of New England is assured. I like my life right now. I donate to charities which help poor men, women and children from the African-American community. I also volunteer at some of the homeless shelters from time to time. I know what it’s like to struggle and I never turn my nose up at people in bad situations. I wasn’t born rich. Far from it.
I was born in 1977 in Atlanta, Georgia. My father, Luther Jameson, is a retired Atlanta City policeman. My mother, June Smith Jameson is a former elementary schoolteacher. I have an older brother named Stuart, who’s currently working as an Instructor at West Georgia Military Institute. He recently got promoted to Athletic Director. Back in the day, we led a decent life. I mean, we had our own house, in a decent neighborhood and there was food on the table every day. My parents were tough disciplinarians who redefined the meaning of tough love. Oh, yeah. They believed in corporal punishment. It toughened me up and helped shape me into the man I am today. I fly back to Atlanta to visit my folks all the time. My father is retired from the police force. He manages a private Boxing Gym these days. My mother still teaches, though only part-time. She enjoys being a grandmother to my brother’s brats. Stuart married his high school sweetheart, Corrections Officer Michelle Brunot. They have teenage twins, a boy and a girl. The boy’s name is Jack. The girl’s name is Jill. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. My brother and his wife got corny taste but their kids are wonderful.
I love surprising my brother at work. Stuart is a big and tall black man who looks rather intimidating, until you get to know him. He’s a big softy. I’m the mean kid in the family. He used to get picked on by kids half his size. Me? Nobody messed with me. I was a mean-spirited brat with a slingshot. Anyone who talked trash to me or gave me an attitude got a small pellet as reward. Guys, girls, whoever messed with me got deal with. That’s why nobody messed with me. Before I was even grown, I was the man in my city. I wasn’t a delinquent. No sir. I went to Brothers of Saint Michael, a Christian-themed private High School and I got good grades. Hell, I ended up valedictorian. I just didn’t put up with anyone’s crap. That’s why I’m the man! Stuart only looked intimidating. Too bad the folks at West Georgia Military Institute bought his act.
West Georgia Military Institute was a private, four-year, coeducational military college. It was founded in 1977 by former U.S. Army General Samuel Branson. Since then, it’s become one of the best schools in America. Ranked among the One Hundred Best Colleges and Universities in America five years running. It’s an old-fashioned military college in the tradition of the Virginia Military Institute and West Point. Although much younger than these time-honored institutions, West Georgia Military Institute holds its own. With my brother at the helm of the Athletic Department, I can honestly say that the school is in good hands. Of the seven thousand students at the school, almost forty percent are student-athletes.
Originally, West Georgia Military Institute student-athletes competed in Men’s Varsity Baseball, Basketball, Cross Country, Soccer, Swimming, Squash, Fencing, Volleyball, Ice Hockey, Golf, Tennis, Track, Fencing, Water Polo, Rugby, Gymnastics and Rifle along with Women’s Varsity Softball, Basketball, Cross Country, Soccer, Swimming, Water Polo, Volleyball, Track, Fencing, Ice Hockey, Tennis, Gymnastics, Squash, Rugby, Golf and Rifle. They were members of the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s Division One. In his first year as Athletic Director, Stuart Jameson added several new sports to the program. First, he added Men’s Varsity Football. Then, he added Men’s Varsity Wrestling, Coed Sailing, Women’s Varsity Wrestling, Women’s Field Hockey, and Coed Equestrian. Bringing Football to the West Georgia Military Institute was my brother’s dream. He felt that an institution of this size ought to have such a sport. And he was right. Beefing up the sports programs really put the school on the map. The first Football game between West Georgia Military Institute and Georgia Tech was attended by nearly half the city of Atlanta!
I’m a College Football fan. Many years ago, I played for the Morehouse College Maroon Tigers. It was one of the best experiences of my life. I was a running back who barely saw any playing time but it was great to be on the team. I wished we were in the same athletic division as Georgia Tech so we could kick their butts. Partly because the nerds over there are so cocky and partly because my brother Stuart once played Football for Georgia Tech. Oh, well. Yeah, I was proud of the sportsman and instructor my brother had become. I’ll never admit this out loud but sometimes, I envy him. He lives in a mansion in one of Atlanta’s nicest and priciest neighborhoods. His wife is a beautiful, supportive and successful, decidedly strong black woman. He has two wonderful children. He’s the first African-American Athletic Director at one of America’s top schools. He has it all.
What about me? Let’s see. I lead the kind of life many people can only dream of. I live in a mansion in Milton, one of Massachusetts wealthiest cities. My house has six bedrooms, three bathrooms, an indoors pool, three jacuzzis, and it’s sitting on thirty acres of land which belong to me. I invite friends and their spouses and children to play golf with me on weekends. I sometimes host charity events at my residence. I don’t live alone. I even have a butler. No, his name is not Jeeves and he’s not British. He’s Harold Gray, a professional butler trained at the Central California Butler Bureau. He’s alright. And the man doesn’t come cheap. You might wonder about my romantic life. I’m single. I’m not seeing anyone. With my hectic work life, I don’t have time to meet anyone. Truth be told, I’m not sure if I want to meet people.
The civil branch of the firm has handled some nasty divorces. Marrying the wrong woman can cost a man his house, his car, his job and worst of all, his children. I’ve seen enough of that to swear off marriage altogether. For men who are considering taking the plunge, I heartily recommend a well-drafted prenuptial agreement. I know it’s not the most romantic thing in the world but you will thank yourself later. It can make the difference between a divorce court victory and the poor house for the remainder of your days. I don’t think much of humanity. I’ve defended too many psychopaths and sociopaths. With my analytical skills, I can see right through most people. And they don’t like me for it. Spotting both male and female liars and deceivers, the remorseless among us, has always been easy for me. It’s a natural talent which only got better as I grew older. At thirty years of age, I have a networth of twelve million dollars and absolutely no idea what I want to spend it on. The things men and women value don’t mean much to me. I like the house but it’s not essential to my existence. I like owning two Hummers, a Rolls Royce, a Jaguar and a Mercedes but I can do without them. What drives me?
That’s a question I ask myself a lot these days. I live in the state of Massachusetts, where Same-Sex Marriage is legal and a black man is the Governor. There’s a black man serving as Mayor in one of the state’s largest cities. There are black men and black women serving in the House of Representatives. Yes, I live in an interesting place indeed. And I love it. Maybe someday, a black man will be president. Or a black woman. Wouldn’t that be something? I support all of our black elected officials and runnerups, regardless of political party. It’s about our people, not some artificial divisions such as Democrat and Republican. I want to see American Power in the hands of black men and black women. I think this century could be ours if we play our cards right.
I push myself because I want to show the men and women in my community that a black man or woman who is smart and works hard can go places. We can be millionaires. We can be lawyers. We can be police officers. We can be State Senators and Governors. We can do anything. There’s nothing holding us back except our own fear and prejudices. The world is ours for the taking. And there is a right way to take it, too. Stay out of trouble. Go to college. Get that degree. Get a terrific job. Help the members of your community. That’s what my father taught me. All he wanted was for me and my brother to be successful and happy. He never asked us for anything. My parents both live in the same house I grew up in, even though both their sons are rich men. I love my parents. My father is a strong man. My mother is a strong woman. And my brother is a great man and one of the best role models anyone could ask for. Educator. Family man. Valued member of the community. It doesn’t get any better than this.
I am very proud of my family. My parents keep asking me when I’m going to introduce them to a nice young lady, settle down and have some kids. I laugh and change the subject almost every time. My folks don’t understand that I live in different times. When my folks met, it was the late 1960s. They were both in their late twenties. A black policeman and a schoolteacher in Atlanta. They were both deeply conservative people with a staunch belief in family values and loyalty. That’s why they got married and stayed married. My parents still go marathon dancing with each other. They’re both in their seventies now, and still very much in love. They don’t understand that people today don’t value family anymore. Men and women meet and they’re usually both selfish and amoral. In it for themselves and their own pleasure. It’s never about family or loyalty anymore. Wives betray husbands. Husbands betray wives. Spouses war against one another in courts. They fight over assets and children who get treated like assets. Good men get taken to the cleaners and lose the right to spend time with their children thanks to bias in family courts. Sometimes, good women get the shaft too. It’s an unfair world.
This is what marriage and relationships are like today. A man and a woman meet. They fall in love. They move in together. Either they live together or get hitched. At some point, they change. The husband wants to get away from the wife. The wife sees the husband as the most flawed thing in existence. Spouses can’t stop mentioning each other’s faults. Sometimes, violence follows. There are abusive husbands out there. What you won’t read anywhere is the story of the abusive wives. There are women who abuse their spouses and families out there. Of course, social workers and police officers along with judges and prosecutors will deny this endlessly. The husband or father is always at fault. Does this sound like the kind of institution a man should rush to get into?
My folks keep asking me to take time off to meet women. I’ve met many interesting women. Women who were beautiful and successful. Lawyers. Businesswomen. Sportswomen. Entrepreneurs. Yeah, but guess what? No one lights my fire. I’m a man who works hard for a living. And I’m one hundred percent loyal to my family. I would gladly lay down my life for my father Luther, mother June and brother Stuart. And I love my nephew Jack and niece Jill, and my sister-in-law Michelle, who brought them into this world with God’s help. I just can’t seem to meet a woman who wants the same things. I want a lifelong commitment and a family, with lots of children. Money’s no object. I would gladly share what I have with my wife and children. Sadly, I’ve met enough manipulators and gold diggers to become permanently jaded. And there lies my dilemma. Sorry, mom and dad, looks like you’re going to have to content yourselves with having Jack and Jill as your grandchildren. I’m flying solo. Forever.
I am not designed for a couple’s life. I’m a smart man who goes out there and gets things done. I’m good-looking and rich too. For a lot of women, that’s a magnetic factor. Unfortunately, I don’t attract quality individuals. Just because a gal is rich, beautiful and successful doesn’t mean she’s a good person. I’m a lawyer, so I lead a morally dubious lifestyle at times. I’ve defended bad men and bad women. People who committed murder. People who hurt other people. Quite often, I get them off. I hate myself for doing it. But it’s my job. So, I find ways to give back. Out of my pocket, I donate to public schools. I also give the homeless money, personally. I don’t give it to an agency. I hand it to them. It’s there’s one thing being a lawyer has taught me, it’s that anyone can become homeless. Some of the homeless men and homeless women out there were once lawyers, doctors and even cops. Sometimes, things just go wrong and there’s nothing you can do. I like helping people in need. The poor people. The disadvantaged children. The good men and women in bad situations. That’s what drives me to take a few pro bono cases each year. My way of giving back. I’m too attached to wealth and power, and I’ve compromised my beliefs too often to be saved in this life. But maybe there’s hope for me in the next.