Part autobiography and part examination of our current system of social security, Upholding the Rule of Law is more than just a treatise on what happened with that agency in the 1970's and 1980's; Judge Borowiec's insights provide a methodology to eliminate the massive disability claims backlog that continues to plague the Social Security Administration and which simultaneously impoverishes the thousands of disability claimants waiting two years or more for an agency decision on their disability claims. Author Judge Frank B Borowiec artfully explains the classic conflict between government agencies charged with efficiently and effectively executing their statutory mandates and their administrative law judges who have a sworn duty as independent, unbiased and impartial arbiters to protect the due process constitutional rights of all individuals contesting what they believe to be erroneous agency decisions. Beginning with his childhood, he relates those significant details of his life, including his service during World War II, and a chance meeting with attorney J. Harry Tiernan, that would profoundly influence his career in years to come.

UPHOLDING the RULE of L

IN THE SOCIAL SECURITY ADMINISTRATION, AN AGENCY AT WAR WITH ITSELFBy FRANK B BOROWIEC

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2010 Frank B Borowiec
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-7362-6

Chapter One

MY BEGINNINGS * * *

I have always regretted that, in spite of all of the opportunities to do so, I never really explored with my grandparents what their lives were like as children and young adults. My maternal grandfather was Frank X. Boroszewski, who I know was born on November 17, 1870, immigrated to the United States, and became a very successful businessman. At age twenty-four, he married Martha Szulc, and they had seven children who became church organists, teachers, doctors, and attorneys. That limited knowledge was really all that I knew of his life, other than that he was a kind, generous, and caring grandparent.

Years after his death in 1955, in trying to discover where and when he arrived in this country, I came upon a passenger list from the Port of New York dated December 21, 1886, documenting the arrival of a sixteen-year-old male, Franz Boraszewsky, on the steamer California, which had departed Europe from the Port of Hamburg, Germany. It disclosed that the California had been built in Glasgow, Scotland, in 1872 and was powered by a single screw engine and three masts.

A hundred questions popped up in my mind. My grandfather had just turned sixteen a month before he sailed, so how did he get the funds to purchase his ticket for a transatlantic voyage? How did he get to Hamburg, Germany, from his home in Poland? What was the sea voyage like? Where did he spend Christmas Day? How did he pay for his travel from the Port of New York to Buffalo, New York? How did he select Buffalo as his final destination? What did his parents have to say about all of this? A hundred questions and no answers!

I was born on December 26, 1924, in Buffalo, New York, the eldest child of Frances (née Boroszewska) and Chester Borowiec. I had two brothers, Mitchel and Richard, and a sister, Delphine. My early education was at the St. Florian and Transfiguration elementary schools and East High School.

I was a senior at East High School on December 7, 1941, when the Empire of Japan attacked Pearl Harbor. Nineteen days later I turned eighteen and became eligible for the draft. After graduation from East High School in June of 1942, I became a member of the freshman engineering class at the University of Buffalo.

Prior to graduation from highschool, while working as a stagehand for the senior play, one of my classmates in a casual conversation mentioned that in the morning newspaper there was an announcement that the US Army Air Corps was recruiting a limited number of students for a meteorological program that was to begin in January of 1943. Interested parties were advised to submit an application, and if initially qualified, final selection would be based on the results of a written examination. I applied and was duly notified to be at the Buffalo Science Museum auditorium, where the examination would take place in July of 1942.

I appeared bright and early, and much to my surprise and disappointment, the auditorium was filled to capacity with students hoping to qualify for the program. The sheer size of the crowd made me realize that my chances of success were somewhere between zero and nil.

I began my university studies and quickly forgot about the meteorological program. My classes and my 1-A draft status were occupying all my attention when, lo and behold, I received a letter dated January 19, 1943, from the War Department that I had been selected for their program. I was ordered to report to my local Draft Board # 601 and request immediate induction, which I was most happy to do. The good Lord must have been looking after me, as I was the only person in that auditorium selected for the program.

THE WAR YEARS * * * January 30, 1943–February 19, 1946

On the thirtieth day of January 1943, my dad drove me to the army induction center in the Ellicott Square Building in downtown Buffalo for my physical. There I was formally inducted into the US Army Air Corps.

When I first told my mother and dad that I planned to enlist in the army, rather than be drafted, they were horrified. When I explained that I had to enlist in order to become a student at Hamilton College for two years, they were overjoyed.

By three in the afternoon, I had passed my physical exam, and I and twenty-three others were duly sworn in as members of the US Armed Forces at 5:35 p.m. I was assigned a serial number, which would have to be engraved on all of my earthly possessions for the next three years.

At six in the evening, we left for Fort Niagara, and arrived there at 10:00 p.m. My new mailing address was

Company F 1213 C.C. Fort Niagara, New York

On Monday, February 1, in a cafeteria-like setting, I was given two large duffle bags in which I tossed my new GI jacket, shirts, socks, shoes, and so on. Surprisingly, they all fit remarkably well.

I was then given an IQ test. I scored 130. On the second and third of February, our company spent the days drilling, drilling, and more drilling.

On the afternoon of the fourth of February, I was told to pack up, as I was shipping out. No mention was made of a destination. A bus carried us to the train station in Niagara Falls, and I boarded a darkened day coach with my fellow recruits. We traveled nonstop, passing through Buffalo, New York; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; and Camden, New Jersey, arriving in Atlantic City, New Jersey, the next day at one fifteen in the afternoon.

We were met at the train by Sergeant Fredienburg and were taken by bus to the Claridge Hotel. Incredibly, I would do my army basic training on the boardwalks of Atlantic City, New Jersey, marching to the accompaniment of the Glenn Miller Orchestra.

ATLANTIC CITY, NEW JERSEY * * * February 1943

The Claridge Hotel had been taken over by the army, and its original plush furniture had been replaced with two double-decked cots and four footlockers, in which we placed our belongings. Yet we had our own bath, a real luxury compared to the usual army barracks.

My new mailing address was 920th Squadron Group Flight D Claridge Hotel, Room 106 Atlantic City, New Jersey

That afternoon, we were assigned to our individual companies, and of course, a drill sergeant. The next morning, we raggedly marched to our training site. We quickly mastered the basic marching maneuvers, and by day's end we smartly marched and sang our way back to our hotel, where we were greeted by the Glenn Miller Orchestra.

Nighttime in Atlantic City quickly brought us back to the reality that was World War II. German submarines that could be silhouetted against the New Jersey coastline lay off the coast, waiting to attack an unwary ship. For that reason, a total blackout was imposed along the coast after dusk. Still, it was not unusual to look out to sea and see the bright flames emanating from a ship that had been torpedoed.

Four weeks of marching, singing, and drilling came to an abrupt end on March 1, 1943. My orders came through. I was shipping out at 1:00 p.m. Our group arrived in New York City at 5:15 p.m., ate dinner in Grand Central Station,...