Judges court fun with band

WASHINGTON — They look like a bunch of mobsters.

They wear dark suits and darker sunglasses, have nicknames like Trash Can and Top Dog and brag about how they fought the law (and the law won).

The thing is: They are the law.

Stoic stewards of the Constitution by day in D.C. Superior Court, they are by night Deaf Dog and the Indictments, a guitar-heavy group of seven music-loving judges, anchored by a lone civilian, a ponytailed shrink on drums.

They aren't picky about where they play.

Strutting onto the stage earlier this month at the Armed Forces Retirement Home, Dawgg (aka Judge William Jackson) and the rest of the Indictments had more space than they needed — 100 or so people were spread out in an auditorium built for many more.

"Let the good times roll," Dawgg said, launching into the classic from B.B. King, as Dennis "Red Dog" Doyle on lead guitar let out a howl of approval.

It was to be a trip back to the 1950s and '60s, with the music of Wilson Pickett, Ben E. King and, of course, The King himself.

Not sure what to make of their guests, more than a few of the retirement home's residents sat toward the back. A few fellow judges turned out, eager to see how the band had progressed since its debut last spring during a talent show at the judges' annual retreat.

No one had expected that gag gig in Cumberland, Md., to be the beginning of anything. But something clicked. Russ "Top Dog" Canan, who had started it, sent an e-mail: Did anyone want to keep playing?

All they had were a couple of songs and a curious name, hatched in an early rehearsal, when a few of the musicians thought they had found a real fan: Canan's German shepherd, Chapin, who was never put off by the racket that chased everyone else away. Canan had to break it to his brethren that Chapin was deaf. But he didn't doubt her devotion, and so was born the name, Deaf Dog and the Indictments.

But the band persevered, starting at D.C. Superior Court, where it was the surprise entertainment for the employee awards ceremony last fall. It was a home crowd, to be sure, but even so, the judges had hundreds of court employees clapping hands and tapping feet — and asking "Who are these guys?"

Canan, who sits in civil court, was on rhythm guitar. So was John "Cartwheel" McCabe, who hears abuse and neglect cases. Doyle, who hears child-support claims, was joined on lead guitar by Bill "Blue Dog" Nooter, who hears abuse and neglect cases.

Jackson was lead vocalist for most of the band's set, pitching in with harmonica and tambourine. John "Trash Can" Campbell, who sits in family court as well, was on bass guitar. Frank "Professor" Burgess, who hears probate and tax cases, was at the keyboard.

Marc Feldman, aka "Houndog," the ponytailed psychologist and old friend of Canan's, was on drums.

Feldman has made his home the band's clubhouse, and on a recent Sunday night the ground floor was a swarm of amplifiers, electrical cords and half-empty pizza boxes.

The beat of Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" drifted onto the quiet Northwest Washington street. "We knew we had arrived when one of the neighbors complained," Jackson said.

For the judges, it's about fun. They can't play for money, or even for charity. So they play just to play. The Washington Home, a nursing facility, was one stop on the tour. Children's Hospital was another.

James Hart, 77, a retired Air Force administrator at the Armed Forces Retirement Home, had heard about a bunch of judges claiming they were going to play the blues and some rock 'n' roll and was skeptical. But by the end, the band had won Hart over.

"They're entertainers," Hart said. "I told them they can quit their day jobs and go on the road."