Power of Attorney

It’s 2:52 p.m. and George Eskin is searching for a song that can fill three minutes of air time before cutting to the national news. He rummages through a stack of CDs, glancing nervously at the clock.

As one tune fades out, he leans into the microphone and, in a cool baritone that betrays his stress, introduces a Louis Armstrong number. Louis sings and Eskin draws a deep breath in the cramped sound room at KCLU-FM (88.3).

Three hours down, one intense hour to go. This is foreign ground for a 61-year-old veteran attorney.

After 32 years in the courtroom, Eskin has a commanding knowledge of the law. But now he relies on cheat sheets to navigate traffic reports and news breaks as a volunteer deejay at Ventura County’s only National Public Radio and jazz station.

“Each time coming back it’s like starting new,” Eskin said.

A former prosecutor and criminal defense attorney, Eskin retired in May 1997 to escape the stress and anxiety of the courtroom and to chase a childhood dream as a radio broadcaster.

He even shed his last name--well-known in the Santa Barbara and Ventura legal communities--and adopted the radio persona of George Castelle, the name of his opera-singer grandfather.

Last October, he began hosting an hourly Thursday evening talk show on KCLU called “Dialogues,” which focuses on social, cultural and political issues. Three months into the program, he began a weekly deejay shift as well.

“Retirement has not been a relaxing experience for me,” Eskin said. “I’ve been incredibly busy.”

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Eskin’s wife of 18 years, state Assemblywoman Hannah-Beth Jackson (D-Santa Barbara), has tried to persuade him to slow down. She bought him a new set of golf clubs as a retirement present, but they have barely been used.

“I think the proper word is not retirement, it is change of careers,” Jackson said. “I think he really had lost the joy of practicing law but not of pursing life. I

think he is going back and pursuing his dreams as a kid.”

Although Eskin wound up in the legal field, his roots are sunk deep in entertainment.

His grandfather was a vocal coach and professional singer, his grandmother a concert pianist. His father was an oral surgeon by profession, but also played trumpet in a jazz band.

Eskin recalls impromptu jam sessions breaking out at home whenever his uncle, a jazz pianist, visited. And he remembers first being enchanted with radio listening to the resonant voice of legendary journalist Edward R. Murrow.

“I loved his voice,” Eskin said. “I loved the way he connected with his audience. He made you feel like he was talking directly to you. I think that is a basic lesson in radio.”

Eskin studied acting at two liberal arts colleges on the East Coast. When his father died in 1958 of a stroke, he moved to Los Angeles with his mother and transferred to UCLA. He earned a theater arts degree in 1960.

After graduation, Eskin studied acting in New York City for more than a year but was dissatisfied. He worked at two entertainment firms and then returned to Los Angeles to go to law school.

In 1965, he landed a job as a Ventura County prosecutor and was quickly elevated to assistant district attorney, a position he held for three years before going into private practice.

Eskin worked again as a prosecutor in Santa Barbara County and served five years as the chief assistant city attorney in Los Angeles before resuming private practice in 1981 with his wife.

Over the years, Eskin has handled a broad range of criminal cases, from manslaughter and armed robbery to political corruption and fraud.

Some cases have been national headline grabbers, such as that of the Thousand Oaks woman who won a court battle to keep a miniature horse in her backyard. Others have quietly come and gone, but not without taking an emotional toll.

“I gave so much of myself,” Eskin said. “And each case took a piece out of me.”

Jackson recalls the moment her husband realized he had nothing left to give. He was sitting at a desk in their bedroom and she was reading the newspaper. He put down his pen and said, “I don’t want to do this any more.”

She said, “Don’t.” And he stopped accepting cases.

“I was delighted,” Jackson recalls. “My fear was that he was just going to drop dead of a heart attack at counsel table. I like the guy, I want him to stick around.”

Eskin came out of retirement briefly last year to represent former Ventura County Judge Robert Bradley after he was twice arrested for drunk driving. But other than that, he has steered clear of the courthouse and doesn’t miss it.

Instead, his attention is firmly focused on parenting 14-year-old daughter Jennie, doing volunteer work, and producing shows for “Dialogues.” Eskin spends two or three days each week researching issues, lining up guests and preparing questions.

So far, his efforts appear to be paying off.

KCLU Program Director Jeff Barry said “Dialogues” is the top locally produced show to air in the evenings.

“I think he does a really good job,” Barry said. “I think he knows what our listeners are looking for.”

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In the past nine months, Eskin and his in-studio guests--who have included UCSB professors, authors, judges and activists-- have tackled topics ranging from health care and homelessness to the healing power of laughter.

They have debated pesticide use in food production and the effects of movie violence on youth. Last week, the show focused on women’s intercollegiate athletics.

“It’s really about public affairs on a statewide or national basis, but I try to have a local connection,” Eskin said.

Although public radio is a new adventure, Eskin is no stranger to the microphone. Since 1993, he has announced home games for the UCSB women’s basketball team. On Friday mornings, he records legal textbooks for the blind and dyslexic, which is the volunteer job he says he enjoys most.

The bulk of Eskin’s time remains committed to his daughter, however, ferrying her to volleyball practices and running a household while his wife serves a two-year term in the state Legislature.

As for the future, Eskin hopes to pick up some professional work recording voice-overs for documentary films. Jackson suspects he will return to the stage at some point as well, and she is pushing for more golf games.

But for now, Eskin is still trying to maneuver his way around the control room at KCLU, which looks like the cockpit of an airplane with all its knobs, dials and tiny colored lights.

At 3:58 p.m., Eskin is about to go off the air. A horn section winds down, and the deejay punches a red “on air” button.

“We hope you’ve enjoyed jazz on a Thursday afternoon,” he says. “This is KCLU, Thousand Oaks, Ventura, Santa Barbara. A community service of Cal Lutheran University.”

He cuts to NPR news, removes his headset and smiles. “Now,” he says, “I’m finished.”