Burke's Conciliation

The Vincent Sampleses' marriage certainly did not seem made in heaven. In fact, it began in a gutter. Vincent picked up the girl, Geraldine, in a bar at the dead end of a two-week binge. As they left the bar together, Samples fell down in the street. Geraldine's friends urged her to leave him there, but she thought he needed help. In gratitude Vincent married her next day. But after five years and one son, Geraldine had enough, and they got a divorce. Soon she and Vincent decided to try again, and were remarried. But after four years and another son, they found themselves in Los Angeles' Conciliation Court, fed up and on the verge of divorce again.

Under the compassionate probing of a social worker, the Sampleses spilled out their troubles. Vincent admitted drinking to excess. Geraldine agreed that she had nagged him incessantly. The couple still had faint hopes for their marriage, and willingly signed a lengthy reconciliation contract. One of the court's three staff workers went to work with the Sampleses as a counselor. Last week, 18 months after their reconciliation, Mr. and Mrs. Samples were in the chambers of Judge Louis H. Burke to thank him for saving their marriage. Vincent had reformed, is now a steady worker, a family man, and a member in good standing of Alcoholics Anonymous. Geraldine has curbed her bickering tongue, and their home is increasingly tranquil. "It will be the happiest Christmas we ever had," Samples told the judge.

A Basic Weapon. The Sampleses' happy ending is just one of hundreds of reconciliations that have made Judge Burke's court a model of its type. The record of the Conciliation Court is astonishingly good: out of 2,074 divorce-bound couples who have crossed its threshold in the past two years, 887, or 43%, have been reconciled, and only a quarter of these patched-up homes have come apart again. In the rescued homes live 2,000 children --and Judge Burke frequently points out that seven out of every ten juvenile delinquents come from broken homes.

The Conciliation Court is not unique; Michigan, Illinois, Wisconsin and Washington, among other states, have similar courts. But Burke's court has a potent basic weapon: his reconciliation contract. The lengthy form document (36 pages) begins with an agreement to forgive past injuries, and covers a long list of subjects, including the right to privacy ("In such matters as personal mail"), in-laws, sex, late hours, gambling, grudges, bringing home the paycheck ("The parties agree to preserve and exhibit to one another all pay stubs representing any earnings earned by them"), charge accounts and the silent or doghouse treatment. Each unhappy husband and wife are invited to sign the contract, agreeing to all the pertinent parts. The key clause: parties who sign place themselves voluntarily under the jurisdiction of the court, and are liable to a fine or a stretch in jail for contempt of court if they renege.

Judge Burke does not hesitate to use his powers ($500 fine, five days in jail, or both), has haled 20 violators into court, sentenced ten to jail. Where the husband or wife is having an affair, Judge Burke tries to get the third party to sign an agreement to break it up. In one case he sent both the wayward husband and his girl to jail. "You should have seen their surprise," he said. "I knew they didn't expect jail. Neither was dressed for it."

An Unexpected Failure. Not all reconciliations are so successful as the Sampleses'. Recently, British Cinemactor Edmund Purdom and his wife of four years appeared in Conciliation Court. He wanted his freedom, but she wanted to patch things up for the sake of the children. After some persuasion, Purdom promised to try once more. Soon, though, he left for Europe to meet Actress Linda Christian (TIME, Aug. 15). Sighed Judge Burke: "I was wrong on that one." Burke sometimes has more success where a third party is involved. "When we get the other party in, particularly if it's a woman, she's scared. She hadn't counted on being dragged into court. She just thought she was having some fun. You'd be surprised how many of these romances melt away."

Judge Burke, a handsome, rugged man of 50, has been practicing law for 28 years, on the bench four years (including a stint as trial judge in U.S. military government courts in Germany). He has been married for 22 years, is the father of five children and, as a Roman Catholic, does not believe in divorce. But he does recognize that some marriages are irreconcilable: "While not ignoring their spiritual and moral obligations, I do feel that some couples should be legally separated. Some people just can't live together."

Burke took over the Conciliation Court two years ago. After six months he composed his reconciliation contract. Soon he was receiving inquiries from other interested communities. Next week Judge Burke moves on to Los Angeles' criminal court and a new assignment (he will continue to be a consultant to the Conciliation Court). In two years his court has become a prototype, and his 887 united homes are a shining record in a county where more than 70 divorces are granted every day.

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