At 100 years old, Judge Jean Murrell Capers is still trying to do it her way: Phillip Morris
View full sizeJudge Jean Murrell Capers had another lesson to teach. This one was about a final fight for dignity and the independence of a senior citizen, who has outlived everyone except Alice Murrell Rose, her 96-year-old "baby sister." Her eyes where shut and she was waving her hands in the air. She was passionately singing along with a group of a dozen seniors. It was a song from the 1940s that I had never heard. The joyful noise created by the lively group wasn't what you would call easy listening, but the room was warm and inviting. The afternoon sing-along session at Judson Manor felt like a retirement home tribute to a bygone era.
When she finally spotted me, Judge Jean Murrell Capers smiled and hurriedly reached for her walker. The sudden movement made this former tennis champ appear unsteady, though. Sometimes, she still attempts to move too fast. Her mind and her body have yet to come to a firm agreement on the realities of her age.
She turned 100 years old Friday, and I visited to write a festive column about the event. The judge was beautiful as ever. She appeared happy. I told her as much.
But moments into our conversation she told me that my observation couldn't be further from the truth. She said she was depressed and considers herself a "kidnapping victim" and an "unhappy ward" of the county.
The judge can be fairly dramatic, and her humor sometimes runs surprisingly dark, but the smile had left her face. I could tell she was serious. She was about to teach me another important lesson.
This is not the column I wanted to write about the centennial birthday of this lovely woman about whom I have written 14 previous columns. I've told you over the years about her thoughts on politics, about her conversations with my daughter, about her perspectives on current events. I've long relied on her encyclopedic knowledge of the city and her brilliance to inform my writing.
But the lesson she was to teach me on the day she crested the century mark was to be far more personal:
It is a lesson about a final fight for dignity and the independence of a senior citizen who has outlived everyone in her circle except Alice Murrell Rose, her 96-year-old "baby sister."
Life as the judge knew it ended last month. That's when people who care about this Cleveland treasure realized that she needed help, even if she did not accept that fact. They sought that help at Cuyahoga County Probate Court, which appointed a guardian for her.
At an instant, the former Cleveland Municipal Court judge's decision-making authority was taken away and given to someone else. Her guardian now approves decisions as basic as where she lives and when she can venture out into public.
That's what the former Cleveland Municipal Court judge now wrestles with after a lifetime of complete control and making decisions for others. She is not used to decisions being made for her. She is used to coming and going as she wants.
This, after all, is a woman who, at the age of 95, drove herself to Texas and back.
Age catches up with all of us eventually, though, and it finally has caught up with my dear friend, whether she cares to admit it or not. Her mobility has been severely reduced. She retains a driver's license but has no car, and without a car, she does not have the access to basics, like food.
She has taken to falling -- a number of times in recent months. She's has also been a regular visitor to University Hospitals over the past two years, for a variety of ills. She's been losing weight from what already was a petite frame.
Someone had to step in to help take care of the judge who, despite her legions of admirers, is a widow without children. She was alone in a crowd.
The irony of the unwanted systemic tough love isn't lost on the judge, who practiced senior law until she retired in 2011. She understands perfectly well how the court system works to protect the aged and the necessity of sometime providing guardians for seniors who become incapacitated.
She just doesn't happen to see the need in her particular case.
"They say they're doing this because they love me and want what's best for me. But I can still take care of myself. I know what's best for me. I'm best left alone."
That is why the world's most beautifully stubborn woman says she will continue to pay rent on her apartment in the Central neighborhood – which she was forced to leave when she was probated -- in addition to the substantial rent of her new independent living apartment at Judson Manor at University Circle.
She said she plans to return to her Woodland Avenue apartment. I doubt that it will happen, and I'm really hoping it doesn't. I just wouldn't bet against her.
As I prepared to leave, the judge asked to walk with me to my car. I happily consented. But I was pretty sure I knew what she was really thinking.
She wanted to make a break for it.
The receptionist at the front watched us closely as we walked through the lobby. She smiled while keeping a close eye on the judge. I think we shared the same thought.
Judge Jean Murrell Capers is still on the run at 100, but ultimately, no one outruns time.
Now it is our job to make sure that this civic treasure remains safe as long as we have the privilege of knowing her.
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