Cain allegations offer some an uneasy trip down memory lane

Herman Cain is bringing back memories, and they aren't happy ones.

Whether you believe he sexually harassed four women, the allegations are sparking countless conversations along the lines of "I remember ..."

One story comes from retired Las Vegas Municipal Judge Betsy Kolkoski, a short blonde.

It was 1972, and she was working as an attorney for the city of Cincinnati in the Affirmative Action Office.

"I was a 29-year-old recent law school graduate, one of two or three women attorneys in a somewhat large city attorney's office staffed mostly by men," Kolkoski said. "My assignment was to focus on women's employment issues."

Her supervisor was an African-American male, who was not an attorney.

One day, the Cincinnati office was visited by a Housing and Urban Development team from Washington, D.C., assigned to review their work. They also happened to be African-American males.

"The three men were sitting at a table in our small office when I walked past," Kolkoski recalled. "As I passed by, my supervisor reached out and ran his hand up my leg in a way that was obvious to the other men."

She was wearing a suit, and his hand went up the side of her leg under her skirt.

"My response was swift and lethal," she continued. "I picked up a nearby umbrella and hit him with it, humiliating him in front of his colleagues. We worked together for several years after that without any incident."

She said it was clear to her that he was showing off in front of his buddies and that her response intimidated him.

Kolkoski's handling of sexual harassment was swift and shocking, just as the original act had been. She didn't hesitate. She didn't report it. She just reacted.

My own memory didn't involve touching. In 1974, I was a young reporter at the Southwest Times Record in Fort Smith, Ark. I covered Van Buren and Crawford County.

In Crawford County, the county judges are not judges, but chief executive officers with many responsibilities, including roads. One day I agreed to go with a judge to check out new bridges in remote areas to see how they improved people's lives.

We drove through backwoods country in his truck, and he started to tell me, not about bridges, but about how attracted he was to me.

I was only 24 and wasn't sure what was about to happen. Rape? Forced to walk miles to escape?

He was ancient, at least in his 50s, overweight, bald and no Cary Grant.

I decided to appeal to his ego with a whopper lie, telling him while he was very attractive and appealing on oh-so-many levels, I just couldn't bring myself to act on that because he was married.

I made it sound as if I'd be throwing myself on him without hesitation if he were single.

The fool bought it. At least he returned me to my car. I kept up a cheery conversation for what seemed like one of the longest drives of my life, thinking about a new Burt Reynolds' movie that had just come out: "Deliverance."

I told my bosses, but we all decided to do nothing. It was the typical he said/she said, and he never actually touched me; he just frightened me. He might not even have realized how frightening it was to hit on someone in an isolated woods where his truck was the only vehicle around.

I used cunning, and Kolkoski used an umbrella, and both worked. But I think I like her Mary Poppins method best.

Nothing like that ever happened again to either of us, but I believe that is because we became more adept at warding off dicey situations as we left our 20s behind us.

Thanks for the memories, Mr. Cain.

Jane Ann Morrison's column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. Email her at Jane@reviewjournal.com or call 702-383-0275. She also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/morrison.