Mark Mausert is an attorney here in Reno, whose services are very much needed as over the past several decades he has specialized in combating sexual and racial harassment in the workplace.
He remembers distinctly a case in 1990, his first related to Title VII, the statute in the Civil Rights Act prohibiting employment discrimination based on race, color, religion, sex and national origin.
A mother and father had grown concerned about their daughter, after drastic changes in her health and sleep schedule. “Turns out, at the restaurant she was working at, this sleazeball manager…was terrorizing her,” Mausert recalls.
Mausert would come to find out just how common this waitress’s story was. As he was beginning to take on Title VII cases, the law was changing in drastic ways to allow for more employee protections.
Suddenly, “sleazeball managers” weren’t able to hide anymore, and workers finally had the ability to call out abuses of power, without fear of retaliation.
In order to fully understand the way Title VII shakes out in the American judicial system, it’s helpful to look at the history.
The progression of Title VII law throughout the late 1900s not only shaped Mausert’s career, but also had long-overdue positive impacts on the working class. Luckily, Mausert’s astounding memory doesn’t only apply to law; it extends to history as well. He remembers the chain of events well, all the way back to 1964.
In 1964, there were many Democratic opponents to the Civil Rights Act. Protests erupted, and Southern Democratic senators attempted to thwart the act’s passing with a filibuster. “The last thing they did to try to stop the civil rights bill,” Mausert says “…they added women to it.” The rationale was that this would generate more opposition to the bill, and stop it in its tracks.
Fortunately, that plan didn’t work. “The liberal Democrats said, ‘that’s a good idea!’ And that’s how women got protected against discrimination and sexual harassment in the workplace,” Mausert explains.
But the original bill didn’t account for emotional damage. On top of that, attorneys fees were quite unaffordable for most people. Many victims of workplace harassment worked low-paying jobs, like waiting tables. “In three days, the victim has a job down the street making the same, or more,” Mausert says. “It wasn’t worth it.”
Then, on November 21st, 1991, (the year after Mausert’s first sexual harassment case) they amended the statute to add emotional and punitive damages. Plus, victims would have attorney fees covered. “So there was this explosion of Title VII litigations in the 90s,” Mausert goes on, “because suddenly, you could get some kind of compensation for getting your butt slapped and for guys saying all kinds of stuff to you.”
After two sexual harassment cases were brought to the Supreme Court in 1998, the Court spelled out the circumstances which would give a company immunity against charges of harassment. Essentially, employers couldn’t fire or demote victims of these cases, and they also had to implement harassment training for their employees.
After the decision in 1998, workplace harassment cases tapered off for a while. But about five years ago, Mausert caught on to “a weird thing that’s happening.” He started to uncover that sexual harassment cases were often correlated to a surprising culprit: music.
Music with explicit, and sometimes brutally violent, lyrics is often played over speakers in kitchens, warehouses, and other work environments. To Mausert, this means that employers are violating their duty to enforce reasonable workplace harassment policies. “It’s a non-delegable duty,” Mausert says, meaning that employers can’t leave the enforcement of their harassment policies up to their employees. “So you have fifty guys and five women…and you’re gonna leave it up to the women, who are outnumbered 10 to 1, to stop the guys from playing their music?”
Mausert recalls a case that involved a large factory where “they just let (the) guys rock and roll. There was a cadre of really mean-spirited guys, and they basically engaged in competition over who could do the most outrageous (things) to the women each day.” One of the factory workers “broke ranks” and sought help from a lawyer friend of Mark’s. The case was settled with a 34-million dollar check that compensated over 800 women.
It goes deeper than music. Mausert understands that not only women, but most humans, carry trauma with them. Sexual and racial trauma are extremely common, and usually have profound effects on human psychology. Workplace cultures of disrespect and violence can fester. These workplaces subject people with trauma to be re-traumatized on a daily basis.
Mausert also understands that seeking justice cannot, in itself, heal trauma. “I’m not in the vengeance business,” he says. “The Buddha says…vengeance is a hot coal, you pick it up to throw at somebody, you always get burned.”
“We need to get you over here, and on a different path, and deal with the trauma,” he remembers telling some of the victims he has worked with. “And I will try to get you some justice.”
Mausert has been an attorney for over half of his life now, and he says it hasn’t been easy. But he feels that, after 43 years on the job, he’s come out on the other side. “You know what the trick is? There’s a trick,” he says. “You have to do the right thing, without being right.”
Mausert’s law office on Evans Avenue was built in 1910. It was the historical home of Benson Dillon Billinghurst, who was superintendent of Washoe County schools from 1908 until his death in 1935. Under Billinghurst’s leadership, Nevada schools were ranked second in quality nationwide in 1933. It’s probable that the late Mr. Billinghurst would be proud of what his old house is used for today.
If you find yourself in need of Mark Mausert’s assistance, his yellow lab, Max, will greet you at the front door of the old house. Inside, the walls are stacked with thousands of books. In one corner of the office sits a stack with several copies of the same book: Trauma and Recovery, by Judith L. Herman M.D. In the introduction to her book, Herman writes: “Survivors challenge us to reconnect fragments, to reconstruct history, to make meaning of their present symptoms in the light of past events.” Mausert offers a copy of the book to all of his clients.