Slur Slinger Shanks Attempt at Apology

Imagine this. You convene a bunch of potbellied, gray-haired white golfers in a clubhouse. They sit around in their shorts, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer in tall cups, and then you turn them loose on the delicate subject of racism, and the use of the so-called "N" word in a public setting.

Talk about trouble waiting to happen.

The cringe factor was off the charts Tuesday night at the West Palm Beach Golf Commission meeting.

The star of the show was Vernon Johns, 63, a scratch golfer who referred to Tiger Woods as a "nigger" when talking to a black groundskeeper in the club's dining room two months ago.

Johns, who had his membership revoked over the remark, showed up with a lawyer Tuesday and managed to get his membership back - despite himself.

"I was in such a good mood," Johns said about the day he said the slur, "that I didn't even take it as a threat."

Johns was stuck in reality's sand trap all night long.

Buoyed by his pals, Johns carried on Tuesday night as if he were the victim of the word he used. The message: What's the big deal?

"I thought I said it among friends," Johns explained.

Cringe.

Johns' lawyer, Steven Newburgh, should have brought him to the meeting with a gag over his mouth.

And while he was at it, Newburgh should have tackled golfer Paul McCullough, who roamed the room with a big beer, interjecting gems such as this: "They're trying to make this into a black/white issue."

Johns was among friends Tuesday night, a bunch of fellow golfers who outnumbered the few black people in the audience.

"Yeah, I'm still listening to this tripe," a guy talking on a cell phone said in a loud voice during the meeting.

Johns said the word was simply a humorous "social blunder" and he would have laughed if Joe Sellers, the black employee, had tried to say something funny back to him.

"If he would have said, 'We're going to take over hockey, just like we've taken over baseball, football, and and basketball,' I would have laughed, and said 'you're right,' " Johns said.

Cringe. Cringe. Cringe.

One of his buddies, a man of Italian background, said a lot of other golfers have used Italian slurs to him, and he never complained.

"I could have had dozens of members dismissed," he said.

Cringe. Do people actually still think being black is no different than being an ethnic white?

Have I ever felt any real prejudice against me in my 45 years? No. Can any black man my age make that same statement? I doubt it.

Aren't we beyond this point of fundamental understanding yet?

Is there still some confusion about why Chris Rock can do black jokes, Jackie Mason can do Jewish jokes, and Pat Cooper can do Italian jokes, but the ground gets awfully shaky when people cross racial and ethnic lines?

Johns said he's not a racist. And I believe him. But all the talk about the black friends he has, the clubs he's donated to black kids, and the time he offered to share a hotel room with a black golfer, just makes his remark all the more telling.

Forget the three beers he said he drank that day.

Tuesday night, he wasn't drinking beer. And he wasn't really apologizing very much either. He was far more confrontational than contrite.

Charles Collins, the lone black member of the golf commission, tried to explain why he thought the matter was serious.

"This public course is in for some tough sledding if people think they can do and say what they want without consequence," he said. "There are certain standards of conduct we expect people to have. "People told me 'I have the right to call you anything under the freedom of whatever,' " Collins said.

"The First Amendment!" McCullough shouted.

But it was Collins who offered a compromise, saying that Johns had suffered enough for the remark, and as long as the groundskeeper accepted his apology, Collins would be willing to reinstate his membership.

Johns still didn't get it. Instead of realizing he was getting what he wanted, he still pressed on.

"I didn't come here to grovel before you," he said. "I'm here for my constitutional rights."

Cringe.

Just say you're sorry. Just say there is no excuse.

Just take the cue from your lawyer.

"We still live down here in some sort of dream world," Newburgh said.

"We're not living in a progressive time down here."

No joke.

Frank Cerabino, 46, grew up on Long Island, New York, the oldest of four children.

He graduated from the United States Naval Academy, in Annapolis, Maryland, in 1977, and spent the next five years as a Naval officer, reaching the rank of lieutenant.

Cerabino spent most of his years in the Navy aboard the U.S.S. Constellation, an aircraft carrier based in San Diego, California.

After leaving the Navy, Cerabino got a master's degree in journalism at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill. After graduating, he worked briefly at a wire service in Chicago, before coming to Florida to work as a reporter for The Miami Herald.

For the next five years, Cerabino covered a variety of beats at The Herald, eventually becoming the newspaper's federal court reporter in Miami. In 1989, he left the paper to become a general assignment reporter for The Palm Beach Post.

Cerabino became a full-time local news columnist for The Post during the William Kennedy Smith rape trial in December of 1991. His column appears three times a week. He has also written Shady Palms, serialized novel about condominium living, which The Post published in daily installments last year.

Cerabino is married, and lives in Boca Raton, with his wife, Jonita, and his three children, Nick, Natalie, and Monti.