Moreover Undercurrents frequents local libraries and has never witnessed a single act of onanism in the stacks, near the computers, or anywhere else for that matter. Where is all this selfish sex going on?
It turns out, however, that we should have believed Trovillion. There is a problem in the county library system, but only part of it has to do with autoeroticism. The larger issue is why director Sam Morrison is finessing the truth.
On April 19 the Sun-Sentinel quoted Trovillion as saying, "I could tell you stories about people masturbating in libraries in Broward County." But the article left readers wondering exactly what those stories might be. Sun-Sentinel readers still don't know.
Undercurrents called Trovillion's office to learn more. His secretary directed us to a report that listed three incidents of masturbation in Broward libraries.
At the time Morrison claimed no knowledge of a problem. "I certainly would have heard about it," he told Undercurrents two weeks ago. Either he was being evasive or he's way out of the loop for someone in charge, because the county has been sued twice over the issue.
Jodi Hoffman, a paralegal and mother of three teenagers, is the plaintiff in the first suit. Her husband, Paul, is the plaintiff's attorney in the second. The Hoffmans, you may recall, are a conservative legal team who gained notoriety for suing the Broward County School District in 1996 over its sex-ed program, which they felt stressed promiscuity over abstinence. They settled with the school district and forced teachers to add material on abstinence and the benefits of a heterosexual, monogamous marriage to the curriculum.
Hoffman filed her library suit in December 1999, when she became fed up seeing patrons surfing porn sites on library computers. "The library might as well supply these guys with baby oil and towels too," she says.
A few months later, she made a records request for all incident reports involving Internet porn at county libraries between April 1997 and March 2000. She got a stack of documents so big it cost her almost $1000 in copy and research fees. She highlighted the findings in her lawsuit: 14 incidents of masturbation documented by library and police reports, 23 complaints about patrons viewing porn, two incidents of men exposing themselves, and one instance of a man fondling a female patron.
Depending upon when you ask him, Morrison's recollection of how many times masturbators have been caught in the library changes from none (the implication of his quote to Undercurrents on the topic), to two (a number he gave a TV reporter in December 1999), to five (the number Undercurrents received when we called him last week).
Hoffman claims to have hundreds of incident reports, many more than she's used in support of her lawsuit. "I've got five times as many," she says.
As proof she produces an accordion folder full of photocopies and scatters them around a conference table in her law office. No one -- not even Hoffman -- has counted all the reports. She got sidetracked by other work and didn't get through them all. But she knows there are at least the 16 instances of masturbation and exposure in her summary, which are backed up by documents in the court file. She also has dozens of letters, memos, and meeting minutes from library staff, who are tired of being exposed to porn and tired of policing patrons and have complained to Morrison about both.
Then there's the second lawsuit, filed by Paul Hoffman in March on behalf of one Mary Doe, who is standing in for her 12-year-old daughter, identified only as Jane Doe. According to the complaint, the girl was visiting the Coconut Creek branch of the library in September 1999 and saw a man masturbating. She was so traumatized by the incident that she has since tried to commit suicide twice, according to the complaint.
In both cases the library claims sovereign immunity from prosecution, based on the legal concept that it can't be sued for following county policy. In other words there is no county requirement that the library filter Internet sites, therefore the library is doing nothing wrong. The county also claims that the federal Communications Decency Act of 1996 expressly protects it from liability for Internet sites created by a third party.
Both suits are pending. Morrison wasn't aware of the Jane Doe case. "Maybe it was given to me; I don't know," he says. "All I do is pass these things on to the county attorney." He thought the other case had been dismissed.
The fight over the South Florida Museum of Natural History, formerly known as the Graves Museum of Archaeology and Natural History, is heating up yet again. This time it's headed for the courts.
Attorney Norliza Batts filed suit in Broward County circuit civil court last Friday on behalf of the Broward County Archaeological Society, seeking the return of a huge collection of artifacts Batts claims belongs to the BCAS and its founder, Gypsy Graves. The collection contains everything from Mexican masks to a mummified hand, and the BCAS wants it all back.
The BCAS, which traces its roots to 1959, created the museum and named it in honor of Graves, the charismatic, globetrotting woman who recognized the need for a repository of South Florida history and filled it back in 1980. With Graves at the helm, the museum grew from humble beginnings as a 1700-square-foot storefront to the 50,000-square-foot, two-story institution it is today.
But three years ago the museum's board of governors parted ways with its eponymous director and severed ties with the BCAS. It was a bloodless coup. The new regime cleaned house and changed the locks. It publicly thanked Graves for her hard work, then proclaimed it was time to focus on running the place more like a business than a hobby. In February 2001 the board removed Graves's name from the marquee, apparently trying to sever all ties with the past.
Now Graves and the BCAS accuse museum directors of fraud and theft, claiming the artifacts were essentially stolen when the new directors refused to allow the BCAS a seat on their board. "My clients were bamboozled and hoodwinked," says Batts. "That pretty much sums it up." (Museum director Charles Zidar did not return calls for comment.)
The wheels of justice turn slowly, but they do in fact turn. We know this because the FBI finally arrested Gunnar Huber.
Huber, the subject of a New Times cover story last September, is the Hollywood guardianship lawyer who allegedly stole more than $2 million from a severely injured client. His purported pilfering was substantiated by the Broward County probate court's Guardianship Investigator's office. But that office has no police power, so it turned the case over to the FBI and the U.S. Attorney's office last summer. And then the guardianship investigators waited. Meanwhile Huber remained a free man. There were even rumors that he was still practicing law despite the fact that he had surrendered his law license to avoid disciplinary action from the Florida Bar.
On May 3 a U.S. grand jury handed down an indictment charging Huber with one count of conspiracy to commit wire fraud and four counts of wire fraud. If convicted he faces a maximum of 35 years in prison and $1.25 million in fines. It couldn't happen to a nicer guy.