The Canadian band Lowest of the Low released a song in 1991 called “So Long Bernie.” I discovered the band through Pandora a couple of years ago, and this song stuck with me. It hides a very dark theme under a rather jangly rock beat, which may be what makes it so haunting. The video here is an acoustic performance where you can hear the lyrics pretty well. A full live recording is here. The song (not based on any real event – I checked) essentially asks the question “What if you found out that your friend was actually a killer?” The singer describes seeing his friend on television being arrested and pondering what might have caused him to commit such a senseless crime. The full lyrics are here, but the last verse is what stuck in my head (bolded for what I wanted to emphasize):

So, now your mind is full of blood
A simple scream in place of every single thing you’ve done
They found her in a field
And when they found you swinging, well no one shed a tear
When they found you dangling, well, no one shed a tear
Ah, when they found you hanging…
Why would they shed a tear?
Why shed one tear?

We don’t know who “Bernie” is. We don’t know what he did for a living, or if he and the singer were close friends or just acquaintances. Sure, it’s only a four-minute song, but the point of that first bolded line above is that none of that would matter any more anyway. Whatever Bernie has done with his life, whatever accomplishments he may have made, even whatever joy he may have brought to others, all fade away with a “simple scream.” Bernie’s past, and his future, have been erased by his crime. All anyone will ever remember of him is the crime he committed.

Not only has Bernie lost the right to claim his accomplishments because of his crime, but he has also lost his claim on our empathy, as the second bolded line says. No one will mourn Bernie when he is gone, because he is a monster.

We do not do well with ambiguity. We like our heroes noble and valiant, and our villains unabashedly evil. We let our preconceived notions color and shape how we perceive just about everything, and it is very hard to break free. When we very much want to believe something, we have evolved many tools to find a way to believe it. We can rightly condemn someone like Bernie, who committed a horrific crime (if you don’t want to watch the video, it involves an unknown woman and a “six-inch blade”). He is “the villain,” without much ambiguity. When others fail to fit the hero/villain dichotomy perfectly (and they always fail to do so), we struggle.

Joe Paterno was not a murderer. Let me get rid of that part of the metaphor right away. What he undoubtedly was, to many people, was a hero. Perhaps even a capital-H Hero.

He was never charged with a crime, because his alleged actions or inactions were not criminal in and of themselves. The various actors in this affair have yet to have their full day in court, so everything is still “alleged.” Paterno allegedly knew about accusations against Jerry Sandusky. He allegedly knew that at least one person saw Sandusky in an act of, well, you’ve read the news. He reported the matter to the administration. And that’s it. No calls to the police, and evidently no follow up. His interview shortly before his death read as a textbook example of CYA. To those incensed by the allegations against Jerry Sandusky, it was unconscionable and unforgivable that this could have happened under the nose of the most legendary football coach in history. He claims he knew little, and he did little about it, or so we think. Standing by in the face of a crime can be as bad as committing the crime yourself. The truth is, we will never know exactly how much or how little he knew. In the fury of the scandal though, that didn’t matter. The Hero became one of the Villains.

Unless, of course, you were a Penn State fan. If JoePa was truly the Hero, it was exceedingly difficult to reconcile the Hero with such horrific crimes. Even if JoePa didn’t commit a crime himself, how could the Hero have let this happen so close by? No, it must be something else. He must have done everything he could. It was the administration’s responsibility. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. They were certainly too hasty in firing him! (Lest anyone think these are straw men, they’re not.)

Now that the Hero is gone, it is a natural human reaction to make him even more Heroic. Social convention frowns upon speaking too ill of the deceased too soon, when the deceased is the Hero. Those who viewed JoePa as the Hero want to use this time to laud his accomplishments: over six decades coaching at Penn State, and all that came with it. Yes, he accomplished much during his life, but social convention must not let the Hero overshadow the Villian. In reality, both can occupy one person. We can remember the good someone did without denying the bad, and we can condemn the bad without forgetting the good. We are just very, very bad at striking that balance.

That balance between Hero and Villain is never 50/50, and there will never be consensus about the balance. For some, JoePa will always be the Hero, and for others the Villain. The question that everyone should address as honestly and objectively as possible is this: which is more important? Phenomenal accomplishments on the football field, or protecting children entrusted to someone working in the space you control? Honor the man if you wish. Death is always tragic, and lives should always be celebrated by those who loved the departed. Some tarnish, though cannot, and should not, be wiped away.

The merits of college football–of athletics in general–is a debate for another day. The bottom line (for me at least) is this: none of his supposedly laudable accomplishments matter anymore. When faced with the possibility of such a horrific crime occurring under his nose, Joe Paterno did the bare minimum required of him. As I said before, he committed no crime. He was not legally obligated to go to the police. He went to his nominal superiors. Then he sat by while nothing happened. This goes beyond mere legal obligations. In the face of a possible crime on his watch, a truly atrocious one at that, he did the least amount required.

The Hero did the bare minimum. That is not heroism. It is cowardice. That simple cowardice replaces every single thing he’s done. For the legacy of Joe Paterno, why would I shed a tear?

Photo credit: DSC_0430 copy by jkahnpsu, on Flickr; Joe Paterno statue – Beaver Stadium by kerrycrow, on Flickr.