BETWEEN THE LINES -- Bryon de Arakal

Not long before he passed away, Steve McQueen commanded the screen in

what most would consider a second-tier western called “Tom Horn.” Horn,

the lead character, is honorable to a fault. He’s a humble and serenely

self-assured cowboy whose spirit longs for the simplicity of the

wide-open prairie. Yet for much of the picture, he languishes in a jail

cell in a dusty and desolate prairie town, falsely accused of shooting

and killing a local boy.

Horn is keenly aware he’s being railroaded. The townsfolk know it, as

does the poltroon of a sheriff. You find yourself, along with them,

pleading with Horn to defend himself before the bar of justice with both

barrels -- figuratively and blazing.

But beyond the simple words, “I didn’t shoot that boy,” he says

nothing. Instead, Horn -- radiating with McQueen’s quiet strength --

utterly disembowels the injustice that has overtaken him by refusing to

dignify it with a defense of his honor. Instead, he takes it to the

gallows with him. And they hang him.

I thought of Tom Horn the other day during a lengthy conversation with

the besieged and beleaguered Chris Steel. And remembering the film, it

occurred to me it would be better if Steel resigned his Costa Mesa City

Council seat with honor rather than permit his accusers to hang him by

it.

Unlike Horn, Steel is furiously defending his honor against two felony

perjury counts for allegedly violating a section of the California

Elections Code governing candidate nomination papers. On his flank, he’s

contending with a civil election contest brought by the guy who has

hounded Steel since his election in November, Michael Szkaradek.

Now, Horn instinctively knew that in the face of trumped up charges no

amount of honor in the way of honest cooperation with the authorities

would vindicate him. Not so with Steel. His mother, he says, always

reminded him of that old saw about honesty being the best policy.

So when Jaime Joyce -- the Orange County district attorney’s

investigator -- contacted Steel to vet the charges in question, the

councilman assiduously cooperated without the benefit of an attorney.

After laying out the facts as he remembered them in a series of rambling

recorded messages to Joyce, Steel confessed that he had “made a mistake.

I was sloppy.”

Steeped in naivete, Steel says he thought Dist. Atty. Tony Rauckauckas

would appreciate his unbending cooperation, and that his actions were

unintended technical infractions of the election code borne out of

ignorance and haste, not criminal intent.

But instead, Rauckauckas pounced on his unbridled recollections as a

confession to two felonies and brought him up on charges.

I still believe the case against Steel is a political lynching and not

unlike the bogus indictment that sent Tom Horn to the gallows. Steel’s

conduct hardly threatened to unravel the fabric of our elective process

or plunge the republic into chaos. Nevertheless, Rauckauckas’ office

would just as soon brand the man a felon, strip him of his right to vote,

remove him from office and disenfranchise the 10,664 Costa Mesa residents

who voted for him, all because of a couple of sinless clerical errors.

But that’s what you get when the law and politics mix, and no amount

of honor will save you in the courtroom when they do.

Which is why Steel should offer his resignation.

Certainly Steel’s opponents would view the move as an admission of

guilt. Let them have that puny victory. Steel’s relinquishment of his

council seat would, on the other hand, save him from having to defend his

honor -- at the risk of a felony conviction -- against criminal charges

that he says he knows at his core to be without merit. And it would,

presumably, force Rauckauckas to make good on his pledge to reduce the

two counts against Steel to misdemeanors -- a plea bargain that Steel’s

attorney says has been offered twice.

In that case, the remaining City Council members would either appoint

Steel’s replacement -- likely to be Heather Somers, who has been seen

around City Hall waiting for Steel’s body to hit the floor -- or call for

a special election.

For Steel, his resignation may be the equivalent of Tom Horn taking

his honor to the gallows. But watching him and speaking with him these

last few months, it’s clear the pressure and the stress is mugging him.

And he admits his financial resources are now strained. He could probably

use the break.

As for his constituents, who would clearly be disappointed were he to

step aside, they could always draft him to run in 2002.

I’m pretty sure his nomination papers would be immaculate.

* Byron de Arakal is a writer and communications consultant. He

resides in Costa Mesa. His column appears on Wednesdays. Readers can

reach him with news tips and comments via e-mail at o7

[email protected] .