Lake Cumberland land grab illustrates Kamala Harris' comment about justice for Blacks

Bruce Kleinschmidt
Opinion contributor

In 1982, I was working in the law office of Charles Hebel, here in Louisville. Charlie had practiced real estate law for many decades. We got a phone call from a potential client   who lived well over 100 miles from Louisville. He told me some of their family situation and said that no one would take this case because they were Black.

I agreed to meet them. He wanted to bring some of his family, and they wanted a very late afternoon appointment. Two brothers and their sister arrived in our office. They quickly told me they had phoned lawyers in the county seat, then Somerset and Lexington and no one would take their case. The lawyer in Lexington recommended they call Charlie.      

They had inherited some land that got flooded in 1952 when Lake Cumberland was constructed. Their land was now divided by water. The family home was on one side of the lake, and a chunk of land was now on an inaccessible peninsula. 

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Initially, this had been a blessing to the family. They would regularly take a boat over to this isolated land where they liked to hunt, fish and camp near the family cemetery. This land was sacred to them because it represented their heritage of freedom and financial independence.

Previously their relationship with the adjoining white land owner on the peninsula was cordial. But he got the idea that he wanted to build a dock and fishing lodge. He convinced the county to install a road that ran close to his land. And from that county road, he had a private driveway to the construction site. Then he put a chain across the driveway and said my clients could not use it to access their land.

Anyone who has lived in rural Kentucky knows that a few county magistrates have a way of paving driveways for friends before elections. We were sure there was a private deal with the magistrate and the landowner because my clients reported seeing county road department trucks building the private driveway.

I felt a 1978 decision by the Kentucky Court of Appeals made it likely they would prevail on the theory of “easement by implication.” I agreed to take the case. They were so happy honestly that a lawyer was going to help them; the sister was overjoyed.

That joy did not last long. I contacted the white landowner. He was less than polite. It became obvious to me that the white landowner was intentionally trying to keep my  clients' land inaccessible so he could buy it off them for some bargain price. We had no alternative but to sue.

I made the trip to downstate. When I reached the circuit court clerk’s office and filed my complaint, the clerk started laughing. She then stood up and yelled, “Would y’all believe that (N word) family went to Louisville and found them a lawyer!” It was humiliating.

Sitting outside the door to the clerk’s office was the court bailiff. He started snickering when I exited. “You know this ain’t Louisville don’t ya?” I can still see him tilted back in his wooden chair, chewing on a toothpick, salt and pepper hair slicked back with hair tonic.

I sued the county judge, the magistrate and the white landowner. Much to my dismay, the county sheriff subsequently advised me he could only locate the county judge.  Sadly, it is not uncommon to have difficulty getting service on someone related to or friends with the sheriff. I called the circuit judge’s secretary and asked if she had a list of approved special bailiffs. Again, more laughter.

“Judge ain’t gonna appoint no special bailiff for you.” So I reached out to Dewey Cornell, the special bailiff I used in Louisville to see if he could find anyone in that area. Now Dewey was willing to go himself and thought he could spend a day or two and fish. I called my clients and explained to them that the next step was to have the circuit court judge appoint a special bailiff and that would cost more.

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Someone in the sheriff’s office had already put out the word around that no service of process was going to be made. My clients informed me that they were getting threats to drop the lawsuit. 

I wanted to file a motion to appoint Dewey and just dare the judge to decline it. Then I could file a writ of mandamus with the Court of Appeals. (I’d been to the Kentucky Court of Appeals three times by then and to the Kentucky Supreme Court once, successfully.) But my clients were scared and intimidated. Because there was the  failure to serve process, the case was dismissed. 

I wonder what ever became of that family. Something tells me that they finally rolled over for the white man and sold him their land on the cheap. For all I know it’s probably full of modest condos occupied by senior citizens, clueless as to how they got a lakefront view. 

I am intentionally not mentioning the county where this happened because I hope that the former officials involved had a change of heart. It was the worst failure of justice I’ve witnessed in my career. It pains me to share the story, but 38 years later it still seems fresh. When I heard Sen. Kamala Harris speak recently about how our country has two justice systems, one for Roger Stone and one for Breonna Taylor, I knew exactly what she meant.

Bruce Kleinschmidt is an attorney and advocate for diversity and inclusion.