Frank Howell has been recording court proceedings by hand since the days of Jack Ruby. He's one of three court reporters in Texas who are active and licensed in written shorthand. (Rose Baca/The Dallas Morning News)

“What are they going to do?” he said with a smile. “Fire me?”

“They like having me [in the courtroom] because I’m a crotchety old man,” Howell said, adding that he won’t hesitate to scold an attorney for acting disrespectful of a judge.

These days, Howell works part time at the criminal courthouse, polishing his reputation as a straight-shooter whose court records, and interactions with others, are as frank as they are funny.

Howell has been on the job for more than half a century, longer than many practicing attorneys have been alive. Over the years, he’s witnessed riveting trials, quirky courtroom spectacles and significant moments in Dallas County history, too. In the 1960s, he filled in as court reporter during part of the Jack Ruby trial.

At a time when electronics infiltrate every aspect of our lives, Howell acts as both master and fierce protector of his dying trade.

He uses the skill as a Dallas County court reporter, taking down verbatim every word said “on the record” in the courtroom. It’s an onerous task, even for colleagues who rely on high-tech keyboards. Howell is one of three remaining “pen writers” in Texas who are active and licensed to do the job by hand.

Howell is fluent in shorthand, the old-school note-taking style popular among secretaries for much of the 20th century.

Career: Taught high school in West Texas before being drafted to the U.S. Army. Dallas County court reporter since 1962.

Education: Graduated from Southwest Texas State Teachers College (now Texas State University) in 1958; master’s degree from Southern Methodist University in 1974.

Frank Howell still uses an IBM Selectric typewriter to transcribe the notes he takes by hand. (Ashley Landis/The Dallas Morning News)

Pen and paper suit this 79-year-old just fine, thank you very much.

Frank Howell doesn’t care that it’s 2015, that technology dominates our world, or that somewhere out there, a grandmother is learning how to text emojis on her iPhone.

Court reporter Frank Howell writes in shorthand, a phonetics-based system that uses symbols that look like dashes, curly-Qs and oversized commas to represent sounds, or even complete words. (Rose Baca/The Dallas Morning News)

"Frank-isms" Longtime court reporter Frank Howell is known for his flamboyant personality, both in person and in court records. Three examples that made us say “That’s so Frank”: * If it happens in a courtroom, Howell puts it in the record — no matter how unusual. That made him popular in the state’s 5th District Court of Appeals, where people would “get in line” to read his colorful records, said Frances Maloney, a former justice of the court. A classic: “Whereupon the defendant stood, struck a match and set his hair on fire.” * Friend and fellow court reporter Peri Wood laughs remembering the time she and Howell got into a disagreement, and she later asked him for help on a court case. “Honey,” he told her, “ I'd just love to help you, but I have to wash my hair right now.” * Joking around during a break in trial, Howell said he once told an uptight medical examiner that if she were to perform his autopsy and use the typical medical term — “unremarkable” — to describe his male organs, he’d come back from the grave and haunt her.

Shorthand samples

Click to see the shorthand version of the word or phrase

Tap to see the shorthand version of the word or phrase

Howell, who has white hair, thin-rimmed rectangular glasses and ears as long as his memory, sat at a wooden desk in a Dallas County courtroom one day last month wearing his courtroom uniform of a blazer and slacks. He was there to fill in for a colleague who needed the day off, and his presence occasionally drew a fuss from attorneys passing by.

“We’ve got an all-star cast in here today!” said defense attorney Bill Fay, coming into the courtroom to deal with a client. “The old timer’s gang.”

“Did you say Alzheimer’s?” quipped Howell.

Howell reminisced with the defense attorney and later took down legalese (”May it please the court, comes now the defendant...”), exuding a level of comfort in the courtroom that comes from spending much of his life there. But back in the 1950s, Howell knew nothing about the niche world of court reporting.

Howell learned shorthand in college in his quest to become a school teacher. He said he later got on the job training while serving in the U.S. Army as a secretary for a four-star general.

Shorthand, a phonetics-based system, uses symbols that look like dashes, curly-Qs and oversized commas to represent sounds, or even complete words.

5 things to know about court reporting 1 Court reporters are the official keepers of courtroom records. Whether it’s for a quick hearing or a weeks-long murder trial, court reporters record everything said on the record in the courtroom. Afterward, they are personally responsible for storing a copy of the record for up to 15 years in criminal cases. “If the court reporter is not doing their job, you're never going to get justice,” said defense attorney Ronald L. Goranson. 2 They must be able to record testimony at a rate of at least 225 words per minute. That’s more than five times as fast as the average person can type, according to Ratatype, an online typing tutor. Court reporters must prove their speed by taking a state certification test, typically after 18 months to three years of schooling. 3 They can type, scribble or channel their inner Darth Vader. The stenotype machine is the most common method. Using a special keyboard where each key represents a phonetic sound, court reporters combine keys to record testimony in real time. Pen writing requires court reporters to write in shorthand. Of the three remaining pen writers in Texas, two work in Dallas County, Frank Howell and 77-year-old Marion Ward, who handles depositions for civil lawyers. With the stenomask method, court reporters wear a mask and repeat what’s being said into an audio recorder, which spits out written text in real time. 4 They can make six figures. Dallas County court reporters earn an average base salary of more than $98,000, but they can make much more on trial transcripts, for which attorneys pay $5 per page. But that comes with long hours. Court reporter Peri Wood said she spends her nights and weekends editing and proofing thousands of pages of trial transcript. “Being in the courtroom all day isn’t half of what we do,” she said. 5 Most of them are women. About 90 percent of the 2,300 court reporters in Texas are female, experts say. In Dallas County, all but two of the 61 court reporters are women. SOURCE: Texas Court Reporters Association, Dallas County employee data

Howell didn’t consider becoming a court reporter until a judge he served with in the Army asked him to move to Dallas County and work for him. Still set on a career in education, Howell initially turned turned him down. Then, the judge offered to more than double his salary.

“And I said, ‘When do we start?’” Howell recalled.

Howell began his career as a court reporter here in 1962, making $9,600 a year.

Since then, he has watched the courthouse transform from an old boy’s club, where some judges allegedly had affiliations with the Ku Klux Klan, to the diverse workplace it is today. Dallas County’s district attorney is female, and her predecessor was black.

Oh, the stories he can tell: The murder trial in which a woman was beaten unconscious with a fireplace poker and then suffocated from the weight of her large breasts. The attorney who popped out his false eyeball in court to prove that eyewitness testimony unreliable. The time a fistfight sent one well-known lawyer’s false teeth flying across the courtroom.

And then, of course, there was the Jack Ruby trial.

Listen to Frank Howell describe his role in the Jack Ruby trial and watch as he writes down what he said in shorthand.

Charged with killing Lee Harvey Oswald to avenge President Kennedy’s death, the nightclub operator went on trial for murder in Dallas County in 1964. One day, when the original court reporter passed out in the courtroom, Howell said he filled in for part of the day’s proceedings after prosecutor Bill Alexander asked to “borrow” him from his regular court.

Ruby was found guilty but appealed. Howell served as a court reporter during a pretrial hearing in 1966 but the second case never made it to trial because Ruby died of cancer.

Howell said he was standing next to Alexander when a “mob” of journalists crowded around him to ask how Ruby’s death would impact the trial. Imitating a slow, southern drawl, Howell recited the prosecutor’s response:

“Well, goddamn. You can’t have the rabbit stew without the rabbit.”

Jack Ruby is surrounded by journalists during a break in his 1964 murder trial. (File photo)

Despite the historical significance of the Ruby trial, Howell said he’s most proud of his reputation for accuracy.

“If Frank Howell’s name was on it, you trusted it,” said Frances Maloney, a former state district judge and justice on the 5th District Court of Appeals in Dallas.

Errors in a trial transcript can create a nightmare for the court, form the basis of an appeal or even spur a lawsuit against the court reporter.

"Frank is the end of an era" Peri Wood, court reporter

Howell follows a tedious process that includes taking notes in shorthand, then cross-comparing them with an audio recording and typing the testimony on an IBM Selectric typewriter. He said he’s motivated to produce the type of record he’d want if he were the defendant.

“A lot of it has to do with plain ol’ morals,” he said.

Howell insists he’s just as productive as colleagues who use a special keyboard that allows them to record more than 225 words a minute and produce drafts of testimony in real time. Judge Steven Autry, who regularly works with Howell in magistrate court, said Howell — who claims he can record up to 300 words per minute — wouldn’t be allowed to continue working at the courthouse if he couldn’t keep up.

“Frank is the end of an era,” said fellow court reporter Peri Wood.

Howell recently reflected on his still active career from the sunroom of his Lake Highlands home, where classical music floated in from the kitchen and his black Scottish Terrier lounged at his feet. The dog’s name is St. Andrew, but he goes by Drew for short.

“He hasn’t attained sainthood yet,” Howell explained.

When he’s not working, Howell spends his days caring for Drew, traveling within Texas and keeping up with the work of local authors. He abstains from all things high tech. He does not own a computer or a cellphone — and seemed offended at the suggestion.

“He’s one stage short of a dinosaur,” joked his wife, former defense attorney and judge, Jan Hemphill Howell, who owns both a laptop and a cellphone.

Howell doesn’t necessarily disagree. But he has no interest in retiring and is committed to keep doing things the old-fashioned way.

Unless they take away his pen and paper.

“Then,” he said, “I guess I’ll have to call it quits.”