Apr. 17, 2019


Several months before Graduating from Lindenwood University with a degree in communication, the University President, Dennis Spellman, called me into his office.  His son-in-law, John, was also there.  Both smoking big cigars and smiling triumphantly, they took pleasure in announcing I was fired. They told me to move off campus immediately, to expect no more stipends but, with only a few months left toward my degree, THEY were going to “let” me finish my classes.

 Then, like a Bully circling his victim, waiting to move-in for “the kill,” Spellman offered me an alternative: “If you can convince the Republican Party to hand me two million dollars cash to save your ass---I’ll keep you onboard.  After all, the Democrats only gave us one million to destroy you.” Then, after making several demeaning statements about my character, the partners-in-crime dismissed me.

Lindenwood’s President had bragged about taking big money from the Democratic Party in exchange for firing me.  Desperate to find an attorney, I contacted the Republican Party in St. Louis.  Reluctant to get involved yet sympathetic to my situation, a party member referred me to a Republican lawyer from St. Louis named Paul Ground, who agreed to help me--for free--but on a limited basis.  Apparently, his law partners didn’t support my cause.

Paul Ground, acting as my lawyer, called Dennis Spellman, to question his right to fire me. In response to my attorney’s remarks, Spellman repeated the same “deal” he’d made me earlier:  “I’d be happy to re-instate Sally--- when the Republican Party gives me two million dollars cash.  Since the Democrats only gave me one million, maybe we can start a bidding war with her Ass!  Paul Ground expressed shock that a University President would blatantly discuss such corrupt dealings over the phone.

After being fired by the University’s President, I agreed to be interviewed by a team of writers with The American Spectator.

Wanting to hear my story, first-hand, they flew me to Washington DC to interview me in their offices.  After meeting my plane, two staff members took me to a DC Hotel, checked me in, and escorted me to my room. 

Barely inside, it was obvious my room had been visited prior to my arrival.  The room’s sliding glass doors, opening onto a balcony, were wide-open; every light in the bathroom was on; the shower was running full force;  the television set was blaring at top volume;  and--- the room had a strange odor. 

One of the staffers voiced his serious concerns, noting someone wanted us to “get the message.”  The room had been exposed to all kinds of possibilities, including: hidden microphones, hidden cameras, possible poisons and gases, and, without a doubt… someone other than me...had a room key.

The staffer notified Hotel Security and I was immediately moved to another room on another floor. But, unprepared for such an ominous event, I remained frightened and edgy, all night.

Follow-Up:  I quickly learned that, during that same period, the offices of The American Spectator had been burglarized at three different locations. Before this time, they had never experienced a  single break-in.

PS.  No wonder I have PTSD. Eventually...an overload of stress becomes a permanent disorder.


Latest comments

17.10 | 01:42

I miss being Facebook friends with you! Hope you are well and happy.

Tammy Brookover Jay

15.10 | 01:28

Love all of this. I'm so lucky to be your neighbor,

30.08 | 16:26

Sally, my friend, I love your writings and sometimes they make me cry and then smile. I love you as if I had known you all my life. God Bless you each and every day in all you do.

29.08 | 19:19

Lol, I loved reading this story! As a female that dated a couple men with Harleys, I totally understand and met Harley Guy myself, many times over!
I hope you get your 3wheels someday soon!

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