In the 14th century, the office of justice of the peace arose in England to conserve the peace. In “The Growth of American Law:

The Law Makers,” author J. Willard Hurst explains that this office brought

“justice close to each man’s door” when communication was both poor and costly. English colonists carried this notion to the New World. For Michigan, the office of justice of the peace dates from the late-18th century when it was a territory.

Under Michigan law, each township was entitled to four justices of the peace who were charged with handling criminal and civil cases of a decidedly minor nature.

A justice of the peace, or JP, had the power to hear cases for all criminal offenses arising in his township’s county that were punishable either by fines of up to $100 or imprisonment in the county jail for up to three months. In civil cases, justices of the peace were limited exclu-sively to matters to the amount of $100 and, if the case were under concurrent jurisdiction, matters to the amount of $300.

Prior to 1953, the JP served as a member of the township board in the last two years of the four year term. The office of JP lost some its political luster in 1952, when the Michigan Su-preme Court ruled that JPs sitting on township boards violated the principle of separation of powers in the case Township of Dearborn v. Dearborn Township Clerk.

After 1953, Grosse Ile had two justices of the peace, one of whom was Teskey Edward Dunlop. Ted, as he preferred to be called, handled the greater number of cases arising within the township. His surviving papers provide a window into the world of a small-town JP striving to balance the needs of the law and community, the desires of citizens, and the importun-ing of friends.

THE WORK OF A SMALL-TOWN JUSTICE OF THE PEACE

In 1953, Grosse Ile was on its way to being suburbanized, yet it still retained many rural features. It was sparsely popu-lated. The island had only two churches, a couple of farms, several large fields devoted to soy bean cultivation, and more than a few miles of dirt roads. The high school’s graduating class had just 36 students. Its police force was small, and its fire department consisted solely of volunteers.

A large US Naval Air Station occupied the southern tip of the island. The suburban manors of doctors, dentists, lawyers, and industrial managers who commuted to work in Detroit lined the East and West River roads running the length of the island. The modest, and less than modest, homes of the middle class and blue collar workers employed in downriver factories hugged the many roads bisecting the island east to west.

This was the domain over which Ted Dunlop held judicial sway. A salesman for the American Brass Company in Detroit, Dunlop had moved to Grosse Ile in 1944. He became active in community affairs and, at the age of 51, ran unopposed for the four year term of justice of the peace in 1953. Serving a total of 15 years, Dunlop was re-elected as JP in 1957, 1961, and 1965.

Dunlop’s work as JP might not have been known to the community at large if it hadn’t been for the local press. Grosse Ile’s media outlet consisted solely of The Ile Camera, a semi-monthly journal printed in a small tabloid format. The Ile Camera was owned, written, edited, and printed by Henry “Heinie” Hoch, who worked out of a small shop behind Rich-ardson’s Gas Station a half block from Dunlop’s house. The gas station was a gathering place for neighborhood men and, as Hoch was always looking for news, it was here that Dunlop apprised Hoch of the latest “court news.”

Most of Dunlop’s cases involved motor vehicle violations and juvenile mischief, mingled with assorted dog problems, bad checks, domestic assaults, breaking and entering, and trespass. His court did not have jurisdiction over juveniles, but often, with the encouragement of local police juvenile officer Jim Hagan, parents would waive juvenile court jurisdiction in order to have Judge Dunlop handle their cases. He handled very few civil cases.

Small Town

By John Dunlop

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Despite handling relatively petty, routine legal issues, Dunlop took the job seriously. Like most JPs in Michigan history, he was not a lawyer. He had taken a law course or two before the Depression ended his ambition to be an attorney, and his expense vouchers show many trips to law libraries to fill gaps in his knowledge. He visited local Wayne County Courts to see how full-time judges handled court proceedings and also sought the advice of the attorney retained by Grosse Ile Township.

Most cases were disposed of in a simple hearing, wherein Dunlop would explain the rights of the defendant, including trial by jury. The defendant would then enter a plea, most often guilty. Then came the sentence, most often a fine with added court costs. Rarely would there be a case taxing Dun-lop’s legal knowledge—procedural and/or substantive.

DUNLOP’S FIRST—AND ONLY—JURY TRIAL

While Dunlop handled more than 2,000 cases in regularly scheduled, weekly court sessions at the township hall, only one was a jury trial. The trial was covered in the July 6, 1964 issue of The Ile Camera, which reported that it was the first jury trial in Grosse Ile “in anyone’s memory.”

The case was such big news that it was also covered by a Wyandotte newspaper as well as the Detroit Free Press. The trial seemed to have had all the legal trappings of a Perry Ma-son courtroom drama: a tough prosecuting attorney (actually the mild-mannered corporate lawyer retained by the Township for its legal business), and a well-known, aggressive defense attorney with the name of Columbo. Witnesses were sworn in, and an objection or two were made.

The case was typical of those brought before Dunlop. A twenty-five-year-old male, who was not a resident of the island, had been caught driving 70 mph on the main business street at 4 a.m. The posted speed limit was 25 mph.

Having appeared before Dunlop five years earlier and found guilty, the defendant opted for a jury trial. Six of the defendants’ peers—Grosse Ile citizens corralled by the court’s constable while they idled about the township hall—found him guilty. Dunlop assessed a $50 fine, placed the defendant on probation for six months, and added another $50 in court costs. The defendant promptly appealed to the Wayne County

Circuit Court. The Circuit Court retried the charges, found the defendant guilty, fined him $100, added six months to his probation, and ordered him to take a safe driving course.

TRAFFIC VIOLATIONS AND JUVENILE MISCHIEF

One can easily assume from a cursory reading of press clippings that the Grosse Ile police and Wayne County sheriff’s deputies who patrolled the island roads had a knack for spotting young, out-of-town males. Yet, among the clippings are many citing cases

involving local citizens as well as sailors and officers from the Naval Air Station. In the late evening hours, the police would wait patiently sitting in a patrol car at a

convenient location for the predictable arrival of those bent on speed, love, and booze. Not surprisingly, Dunlop listed 103 traffic violators who failed to appear before him in his 1966 report to the secretary of state. Of those violations, 18 were given for improper left turns. It’s a safe bet all occurred at the same corner.

On weekends, numerous fishermen descending on the island also created big parking problems. Grosse Ile’s narrow, two-lane river roads had shoulders too narrow for parking. The Parkway, a major east-west road bisecting the island, had a particularly troublesome spot at its eastern terminus at Gronda’s Boat Livery, a popular destination for fishermen. In the 1964 report on non-appearances, Dunlop listed 70 park-ing violations. While most parking tickets were paid with little protest through mail-in receipts, some fishermen appealed to the JP in person and complained that the no-parking areas were not well marked.

Most of his judicial activity related to traffic cases, but Dun-lop’s most satisfying work was handling youth cases. In one case, the seventeen-year-old son of a local industrial executive was charged, along with four companions, with vandalism for painting obscene words on a bridge. This was in addition to defacing the high school library and, in the words of The Ile Camera, of putting “half the mobile equipment [or squad car] of the Township Police Department out of commission for sev-eral hours” by white washing its dome light. Dunlop fined the miscreant and his fellow travelers, putting them on six months probation. The conditions of probation were written out and signed by all the parents.

Three months later, the young man got into an altercation over the quality of the coffee served at a local diner. The police were called and the probationer, continuing his aggressive behavior, was arrested and jailed overnight. Dunlop faced a dilemma. Should he put him jail for a longer period, or fashion some other punishment that might move the youth down the right path?

On previous occasions, Dunlop had sentenced defendants to the unsavory Detroit House of Correction. After the hearing, which was attended by the defendant’s father and local priest, Dunlop placed the young man under a “peace bond” of $300, and referred the probation violation to the Wayne County

Left: From 1953 to 1968, Justice of the Peace Ted Dunlop performed 61 marriages. Half of those couples

lived on Grosse Ile. Above: The part-time judge presided over 209 different cases in 1966.

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probation officials for “pre-sentence” advice. Dunlop was reported having said “what ever they recommend will be done.” Apparently, the probation officials endorsed his actions for there are no other news clips in his files about this particular offender.

DUNLOP THE “BENEVOLENT”

Mailbox vandalism was also frequent on the island. Both Dunlop and the local postmaster periodically issued warnings that tampering with a mailbox was a felony under federal law, but the postmaster seemed con-tent to leave youthful mailbox pranksters to the mercies of local officials. In 1967, three out-of-town youth were arrested in the wee hours of the morning after ripping a name-plate from a mailbox. In this case, Judge Dunlop found the defendants guilty, charged them $15 each for restitution of the property and assessed each $5 in court costs.

In the next issue of The Ile Camera, head-lines blared “Caught Damaging Mail Boxes, Trio Find Judge Benevolent.” The article said the three youths “received mild treatment” because the judge said “he was in a benevo-lent mood because he had just become a grandfather.” The owner of the mailbox was not happy when he read the article. After all, he had chased the trio in his car that morn-ing and, when he caught up with them, was challenged to get out of his car and “settle this right here.” At this point, he drove to the police station and reported the vehicle license number. Grosse Ile had only two exit points so the three were easily nabbed as they left the island. The good citizen let Dunlop know he expected a heavier hand of justice.

Ted Dunlop was a politician at heart and quickly reacted to the sting of public criti-cism. In a testy letter to the editor, he blamed it all on The Ile Camera. He complained that its reporter had not been in the court room when he announced his verdict and had obvi-ously picked up the quote outside the court-room, where any good judge could expect to relax and shed his judicial demeanor. Dunlop huffily wrote that the article was malicious toward him, “if not by intent, at least by re-sult.” The fact was that his cozy relationship with The Ile Camera was over. Heinie Hoch had sold the paper and the new owners expanded the size of the tabloid, closed the old print shop, and hired reporters to gather the news.

It is apparent from his news clippings that Dunlop was often sitting in judgment of his neighbors and friends, and no doubt felt this keenly. Some juvenile offenders were classmates of his son and daughter. Many traffic offenders knew the judge personally. In one case, he sentenced a man who lived only

three blocks from his house to 40 days in the Detroit House of Correction. In anoth-er, he placed on short probation, without driving privileges, a fellow member of his Rotary Club for failing to heed a stop sign.

CRITICS OF THE JP OFFICE

Of Michigan’s many critics of the jus-tice of the peace system, the most promi-nent was Edson Sunderland, a professor at the University of Michigan Law School. In a paper written for the Judicial Council of Michigan in 1945, Sunderland argued the most glaring defect of the justice of the peace system was that most JPs were not lawyers. Moreover, Sunderland believed they could not improve their knowledge of law and procedure because they had so little business to transact. Sunderland noted that few justices of the peace ever handled the procedurally complex jury trial. (Dunlop, remember, only oversaw one.)

Sunderland’s paper wasn’t the first pub-lic critique of the office either. In 1942, a commission established by Governor Mur-ray Van Wagoner recommended the office be removed from the state constitution. Instead, the Van Wagoner Commission recommended that the Courts of Justices of the Peace be replaced with a new and modern minor court system.

In the end, it would be a burgeoning population and better communications—not only on Grosse Ile, but throughout Michigan—that would make the office of the JP obsolete. While a system of many easily accessible justice courts has been created in the horse and buggy age, automobiles and paved roads allowed for fewer courts. At the same time, the legal profession was raising its own standards, and the JP office, the last bastion of lay judges, was targeted by legal reformers.

In 1962, the Michigan Constitutional Convention abolished the office with virtu-ally no debate and only a feeble protest by the Michigan Township Association. The new Constitution set a five-year deadline for the state legislature to fashion a system

to replace the justice of the peace courts. After the office was officially closed on December 31, 1968,

former Justice of the Peace Ted Dunlop packed up his well-thumbed copy of Michigan Compiled Laws and vacated his Grosse Ile Township Hall office. The January 6, 1969 edition of The Ile Camera featured an article about the office with a picture of Ted on the front page. The headline read “Michi-gan’s Oldest Public Office—JP—Expires January 1.”

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