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Tuesday, January 07, 2003

By Torsten Ove, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

Senior U.S. District Judge Maurice B. Cohill Jr. has a favorite quote:

"Our youth now love luxury. They have bad manners, contempt for authority, they show disrespect for their elders and love chatter in place of exercise; they no longer rise when elders enter the room; they contradict their parents, chatter before company, gobble up their food and tyrannize their teachers."

	Senior U.S. District Judge Maurice B. Cohill Jr. has been selected as a Jefferson Award recipient for his role in establishing and helping to maintain the Pittsburgh-based National Center for Juvenile Justice. (Annie O'Neill, Post-Gazette)

Kids these days.

Except those words aren't from today. Socrates, the Greek philosopher, spoke them more than 400 years before the birth of Christ. The judge uses them to show that every generation thinks the next is going to hell.

"I don't think kids have changed," says Cohill, 73, of McCandless. "The more things change, the more they stay the same."

He's been a federal judge since President Ford appointed him in 1976, but he spent the decade before that as a juvenile court judge and he has a soft spot for young people.

In 1973, he established the Pittsburgh-based National Center for Juvenile Justice, the leading juvenile research institution in the country. He has been the chairman of its board for 28 years.

In the late 1960s, he raised $455,000 from Alcoa, the Richard K. Mellon Foundation and other institutions to get the idea off the ground. He still volunteers his time, mostly on weekends, putting in about 40 hours a month.

Because of that service, he has been selected as one of seven Community Champions being honored with a 2002 Jefferson Award, considered the Nobel Prize of volunteerism. The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, AT&T Broadband and Eat'n Park, with help from the United Way, sponsor Community Champions, a program of the national Jefferson Awards.

The public and workers in the nonprofit community nominated the 47 people who became Community Champions, featured in public service ads last year in the PG and on AT&T cable stations.

From that number, judges chose the Jefferson Award recipients, who will receive a medallion and $1,000 for the nonprofit organization of their choice. At 7 p.m. Jan. 23, they will be recognized at a public ceremony in Carnegie Music Hall, Oakland.

Cohill was nominated by Hunter Hurst III, a Louisiana native whom the judge tapped as the center's first, and only, director in 1973.

The nonprofit institution started with four employees and operated out of a room in the Cathedral of Learning on the University of Pittsburgh campus. Now it has 37 employees working out of an Uptown office, a $4 million budget and a national reputation many attribute to Cohill's guidance.

"We nominated him because he brought instant credibility to the place," Hurst said. "He's brought stewardship, vision and energy. He's a very quiet and effective leader."

Whenever you read statistics about juvenile crime in America, chances are that those figures came from the National Center for Juvenile Justice. The center crunches numbers, provides technical help for the nation's family courts and does legal research on juvenile issues. The idea is to improve the quality of justice for children.

Cohill, a self-effacing sort, is not about to take credit for the center. In the NJCC annual report he has this to say:

"When I think of where we were when it all started and where we are now, I feel very proud -- proud that I have been a part of it since the beginning -- and humble -- humble that while I have had little to do with its success, I am still permitted to serve as its chairman."

In that position, he's noticed a thing or two about juveniles over the years. While he doesn't think kids are much different today from the way they were when he was a juvenile court judge, he does see some societal changes that affect them.

"The big thing now is the drug problem," he says. "When I started out as a juvenile court judge, the most we had was kids sniffing glue. The drug problem has exploded."

Gangs weren't much of a threat in the '60s, either. The only gang Cohill remembers was a group called the Black Diamonds, whose members he gave stiff jail terms. Today gangs are much more prevalent, especially in urban areas, and are usually fueled by the drug trade.

Federal court is a plum job, but sometimes Cohill pines for the old days. As a juvenile court judge, he felt that he was making a difference in the lives of young people and their families. The mother of one child whose case he handled was so gratified that she named her son, Maurice Blanchard, after him.

"When I was first appointed, people asked me how I liked federal court. You can't compare. I love federal court," he says. "I don't miss the problems of juvenile court. But I do miss the people. The people who work in that system are so dedicated."

Those who come across Cohill for the first time might not guess he has such a warm side. A moderate Republican, he's a solidly built former Marine who still does seven-mile runs in North Park and competes in triathlons. On the bench in his cavernous courtroom, his white beard gives him an imposing appearance.

But in person he's completely disarming. His nickname, after all, is "Pinky," a childhood moniker given to him by a prep school teacher because he was so given to blushing a bright red. It wasn't the most flattering of nicknames, but he decided to adopt it anyway.

"At age 13, anything is better than Maurice," he says.

Kristy Connors, manager of communications at NJCC, says she was initially intimidated by Cohill because of his image and status as a federal judge.

"But I met him and he's so wonderful," she says. "He's a compassionate, sensitive person."

Cohill was born in Ben Avon in 1929 and graduated from Princeton University in 1951. While he was serving in the Marines at Cherry Point, N.C., in the early 1950s, another Marine asked him to represent him at a disciplinary hearing. Cohill won the case, and soon other Marines starting coming to him for help.

His commander said he was getting too many Marines off and sent him to learn military justice to become a prosecutor. By the time he left the corps in 1953, Cohill had decided that law would be his career.

After graduating from the University of Pittsburgh Law School in 1956, he worked at Kirkpatrick, Pomeroy, Lockhart & Johnson for nine years while he and his late wife, Suzanne, raised four children.

In 1965, the governor appointed him to fill a juvenile court position, and after winning the subsequent election he began his career in public service. Eleven years later, President Ford appointed him to the federal bench, a lifetime position.

Through the years, Cohill has been involved in many noteworthy cases. The one for which he is probably best known was a civil rights suit that ultimately led to the construction of the Allegheny County Jail -- and briefly turned Cohill's name into a verb.

In 1983, he ordered a cap on the inmate population at the old Ross Street jail to ease horrendous overcrowding. If the cap was exceeded, prisoners who couldn't make bond were freed on what came to be known as "Cohill bonds." Sometimes freed inmates said they had been "Cohilled."

The judge was amused by that use of his name, but he also suffered plenty of abuse. One released prisoner committed a murder. Another, he remembers, burglarized his daughter's apartment.

Some media talking heads branded him a bleeding heart, apparently not realizing his Republican roots or understanding his duty as a federal judge to uphold the U.S. Constitution, which requires that prisoners be treated humanely.

"If I knew what was going to happen, I suppose I would have ordered the new jail sooner," he said in 1996. "I have no regrets. I received a lot of criticism from a lot of important people. I really think I did the right thing."

Because of his prodding, the county finally built the new jail, which opened in 1995.

"The building will stand," the Post-Gazette said in an editorial, "as a monument to the U.S. District Court judge's contribution to the humane handling of prisoners in Allegheny County."

The National Center for Juvenile Justice is another monument to Cohill, as is the Jefferson Award.

"The man's deserving," said Hurst. "He's given up all kinds of time and energy to get this place birthed and then to make it live."

The law firm of Reed Smith is donating $1,000 to the National Center for Juvenile Justice on behalf of Judge Maurice Cohill.