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Margery Eagan On Judging Reggie
Boston Herald
Judging Reggie on more than whether he snorted cocaine
by Margery Eagan
Tuesday, April 27, 1999
They sat perhaps six feet apart, but you could feel the awkwardness clear
across the courtroom.
On one side of the front row was the widow Donna Harris-Lewis, elegant and
dignified in black: suit, stockings and patent-tipped pumps; no jewelry
save stud earrings, a white-gold cross at her neck and a gold ring on her
right middle finger. She no longer wears her wedding or engagement rings,
she has said, because they became too tight after the birth of Reggiena,
the child she was carrying when Reggie Lewis dropped dead on a basketball
court in 1993.
On the other side of the front row was cardiologist Dr. Gilbert Mudge, a
handsome middle-age man with thick gray hair, fashionable glasses, a
well-tailored gray suit. He's the man Harris-Lewis once believed when he
said her husband would be all right. Now she blames Mudge for killing
Lewis. Now she has blotted Mudge's reputation, and he hers: He says Lewis
did cocaine.
The pair hardly looked at each other yesterday in the 15th floor of the
old federal courthouse in Post Office Square. When the judge queried
dozens in the jury pool, each peered over opposite shoulders to watch
jurors respond.
Among the questions: Had any jurors formed an opinion about the case? Only
11 raised hands to indicate ``yes.'' It was surprising, since the death of
Reggie Lewis has ignited such intense opinion. Much of it has been
directed against Harris-Lewis, another wife and mother, like Dr. Deborah
Eappen, made famous through tragedy yet inspiring more criticism than
sympathy.
Too controlling and domineering of her husband alive, and dead. That, fair
or not, is the rap against Donna Harris-Lewis. Plus, detractors now add,
she's greedy for trying to win tens of millions in a malpractice suit that
will raise the cocaine question anew.
``It's very important that our children understand what happened to their
father,'' Harris-Lewis has said herself, though this case may never settle
that.
``I'm looking forward to the truth,'' she has said too, though it's naive
to assume a civil trial will arrive at the truth.
We did not lead that sort of ``lifestyle,'' she has said. But what
lifestyle is that? George W. Bush Jr., possibly our next president, has
artfully sidesteppped questions about cocaine. What's his ``lifestyle?''
``Everyone who truly knew him knew what kind of person he (Lewis) was,''
his wife has said. But what does that mean? That only bad people do
cocaine? Really? During the go-go '80s, when cocaine was still ``the
Cadillac of Drugs,'' when Eric Clapton was singing about it and Len Bias
had yet to drop dead from it, it seemed half of Ivy League educated,
caucasian Wall Street brokers did the drug through crisp $100 bills - then
settled down to become boring taxpayers, home owners, caring parents and
spouses.
If an impetuous college-age Reggie Lewis did do cocaine, like so many
others, he had reason to lie: NBA expulsion rules, his career and $10
million contract.
What's sad is that so many people, perhaps even his wife, seem to believe
his memory sinks or swims based on whether he did. It's as if we can't
differentiate anymore; as if we've lost such perspective on drugs that a
recreational user, however misguided, may as well be a career dealer.
At a time when most athletes can't be bothered with any cause save sneaker
contracts, it's as if the legacy of Reggie Lewis now comes down to whether
he made some stupid, youthful mistakes.
Yesterday in a courtroom sat a widow who may indeed be controlling,
domineering. But in the past year or so, she's also donated $50,000 to
Team Harmony, which uses professional sports teams to promote tolerance;
$30,000 for a computer lab at Northeastern's African American Institute;
$50,000 to the Courtside Club that supports Northeastern's basketball and
nearly $100,000 to the Reggie Lewis Foundation.
When Lewis was alive he organized annual Thanksgiving turkey giveaways and
worked tirelessly with inner-city children. Those efforts, among many
others, drew nearly 15,000 people to the largest funeral in Boston's
history - his. We should all recover so well from our alleged
``mistakes.''