The Pulitzer Prize Archive. Volume 3 Local Reporting 1947-1987: From a County Vote Fraud to a Corrupt City Council [Reprint 2011 ed.] 9783110972306, 9783598301735

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THE PULITZER PRIZE ARCHIVE A History and Anthology of Award-winning Materials in Journalism, Letters, and Arts

Series Editor: Heinz-Dietrich Fischer Ruhr University, Bochum Federal Republic of Germany

PART A: REPORTAGE JOURNALISM

Volume 3

K-G-Saur München · London · New York Paris 1989

Local Reporting 1947-1987 From a County Vote Fraude to a Corrupt City Council

Edited with general and special introductions by Heinz-Dietrich Fischer in cooperation with Erika J. Fischer

KG-Saur München · London · NewYork Paris 1989

Gefördert durch Dietrich Oppenberg aus Mitteln der Stiftung Pressehaus N R Z Essen

CIP-Titelaufnahme der Deutschen Bibliothek The Pulitzer prize archive : a history and anthology of awardwinning materials in journalism, letters, and arts / ser. ed.: Heinz-Dietrich Fischer. — München ; London ; New York ; Paris : Saur. I S B N 3-598-30170-7 NE: Fischer, Heinz-Dietrich [Hrsg.] Vol. 3 : Pt. A , Reportage journalism. Local reporting 1947 — 1987 : from a county vote fraude to a corrupt city council / ed. with general and special introd. by Heinz-Dietrich Fischer in cooperation with Erika J. Fischer. — 1989 I S B N 3-598-30173-1

© 1989 by K. G. Saur Verlag G m b H & Co. K G , München (Mitglied der internationalen Butterworth-Gruppe, London) Alle Rechte vorbehalten - All Rights Strictly Reserved Jede Art der Vervielfältigung ohne Erlaubnis des Verlags ist unzulässig. Printed in the Federal Republic of Germany by W S Druckerei Werner Schaubruch, Mainz Bound by Buchbinderei Schaumann, Darmstadt Cover Design by Manfred Link, München I S B N 3-598-30173-1 (Vol.3) I S B N 3-598-30170-7 (Complete Set)

Ν

PREFACE

The Pulitzer Prize Archive dedicated

to

series,

the documentation

the

and

first

part

of

which is

interpretation

of

Pulitzer

Prize articles from the area of reportage journalism, is now being continued

with

first volume and

the

the publication

(1987)

of

a

third

volume. Whereas the

covered the area of International Reporting

second volume

(1988)

dealt with the sphere of National

Reporting, this third volume covers the field of Local Reporting. Even

before

this

third

category

of

Pulitzer

Prize

awards was

established, press articles on local issues had still often been distinguished

with

awards.

general reporting category

This

occurred,

however,

within the

- a sort of melting pot which incor-

porated all entries which did not fall into more specific categories. A specific local reporting category specifically was first introduced in the late forties, when the already-mentioned general reporting

category

was divided

in

order

to

better distinguish

between different areas. The Pulitzer Prize entry forms of 1947/48 were the first to mention a category devoted exclusively to local reporting. Since 1953, both categories, which to some extent included local reporting, ran parallel the categories Reporting,

Edition

to

one another. These were

Time and Reporting,

Time. In 1964 these were renamed Local General Spot Hews and Local Investigative

Specialized

running parallel, these News Reporting This

third

two

pays

Edition

Reporting

Since 1985, still

categories have been called

and Investigative volume

Reporting.

No

General

Reporting.

particular

attention

to the area of

investigative reporting by primarily presenting texts or categories of texts which are less the result of reporting on current events under deadline pressure, and more those involving a high level of thorough

and

detailed

journalistic

investigation. Although the

VI

term "investigative reporting"

was

first recognized

during

the

seventies, this method of investigation had already been employed for

a

long

time

previously.

This was

of

course

reflected

in

numerous Pulitzer Prizes from the forties onwards, whereby winning articles were praised

for

their qualities

of

"exposure", "dis-

closure" or "uncovering". By concentrating

on the documentation of investigative jour-

nalism within the sphere of reports on local issues, Volume 3 in the Pulitzer Prize Archive

series does

not

in

any way suggest

the inferiority of other prize categories for reporting on local issues. genres

For of

editorial reasons,

local reporting had to be made. Thus this publication

contains many impress

a decision between the two main

texts

today's

- sensational

reader

with

their

in their day original

- which still

fire. Often, these

local reporters were hindered or personally threatened during the course

of

their investigations.

Many

doors were closed to them

once their investigative intentions became clear. Realising a work of this kind required the kind assistance of many individuals. Questions of copyright concerning the reprinting of award-winning articles were kindly clarified quist (The Seattle Times) , Stephen E. Auslander Star,

Tucson), Andrew

Barnes

(St. Petersburg

Black (The Lexington Herald-Leader), Scranton, Penn.), William B.

Brown

by

June A. Alm-

(The Arizona Daily Times), Creed C.

Gene Brislin

(The Tribune,

(The Advertiser,

Montgomery,

Ala.), William R. Burleigh (Scripps-Howard Newspapers,

Cincinnati,

Oh.), Elsie Carper (The Washington Post), Russell D. Castleberry (Charter Oil Company, Jacksonville, Fla.), Robert J. Danzig (Hearst Newspapers, New York), Terri E. Diehl (The Houston Post), Anthony R. Dolan (The White House, Washington, D.C.),Alvin Goldberg (The Kansas City Star), Leonard R. Harris (The New York Times) , WilliamA. Billiard

(The Oregonian, Portland), James Höge (Daily News,

New York), Larry

C. Jackson (The Enterprise,

Pecos, Tex.), Bill

Kovach (The Atlanta Journal), Murray Β. Light (The Buffalo

News),

Uzal H. Martz Jr. (The Republican, Pottsville, Pa.), David Metzler (Veritas Publishing Corporation, St. Louis, Mo.), S. J. Micciche (•'he Hoston Globe), R. F. Pittman (The Tampa Tribune), Eugene S. Pulliam (The Indianapolis Tex.),

Bruce

Sagan

Star),

Glenn Rea

(Economist Newspapers,

(The Record, Cuero, Chicago),

James

D.

VII Squires

(Chicago Tribune) , Edward

and Thomas E. Wark

M.

(The Philadelphia

Storin

(The Miami

Herald)

Inquirer) .

The editors would also like to thank those persons who provided various material

from

archives and libraries, thus contributing

to the success of this book: E. Terry Ausenbaugh

(The

Omaha, Neb.), Robert J. Belletzkie (The Ferguson

Library,

Conn.)» Betty Boudakian

(Daily News,

World-Herald, Stamford,

New York), Frank J. Carroll

(The Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.), Johannes Dedek stitute Geiger

of

Neb.),

Education Library, Ruhr-University, Bochum), Richard

(San Francisco

Tribune),

(In-

Ann

Larry

Haller

Chronicle),

Gentilcore (Chicago

(Douglas County Historical Society, Omaha,

Heinzerling

P. W. Williams

Maggie

(The Associated

(The Detroit

Free

Press,

New York), and

Press).

In the Pulitzer Prize Office at Columbia University, New York, Robert C. Christopher and Bud Kliment again helped with the processing

of

University

the

material

Bochum,

in

every

possible

Mrs. Ingrid Dickhut

wrote

way.

At

the

Ruhr-

in particular the

manuscript with painstacking attention to detail and drew up the index on her own authority. Mr. Oliver Krems, Μ.A., and Mrs. Ulrike G. Wahl, M.A., helped with the translation and corrections. As with the previous volumes of this series, Mr. Dietrich Oppenberg deserves thanks

for

supporting the costly research for ma-

terial at home and abroad.

Bochum, FRG June, 1989

H.-D. F./E. J. F.

THIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED TO

WALTER LIPPMANN (1889 - 1974) - PULITZER

PRIZE WINNER

1958 AND 1962 -

ON HIS 100TH BIRTHDAY

IX

C O N T E N T S

PREFACE

Ν

INTRODUCTION By H e i n z - D i e t r i c h Fischer, Ruhr-Universität

ΧΝ Bochum

HISTORY AND D E V E L O P M E N T O F THE PULITZER PRIZE LOCAL REPORTING

FOR

XV

S E L E C T I O N S FROM A W A R D - W I N N I N G E N T R I E S

Ι

REMARKS ABOUT THE S E L E C T I O N S C R I T E R I A

3

FROM M C R A E (GEORGIA) IN 1 9 4 7 By George E. Goodwin, The Atlanta APPARENT FRAUD

2

Journal

IN THE ELECTION PROCESS FOR A G O V E R N O R

..

FROM NEW Y O R K (NEW YORK) IN 1 9 4 8 By Malcolm M. J o h n s o n , The Sun, N e w York

11

TERROR AND THE GRIP OF O R G A N I Z E D CRIME

IN A S E A P O R T

....

FROM CAMDEN (NEW JERSEY) IN 1949 By Meyer Berger, The New York Times ...

18 29

Examiner

INTERNAL REVENUE O F F I C E SUSPECTED OF E X T O R T I N G TAX PAYERS

FOR RELATIVES

30 33

FROM SAN FRANCISCO (CALIFORNIA) IN 1 9 5 1 By George de Carvalho, San Francisco Chronicle RANSOM PAYMENTS BY IMMIGRANTS

12 IT

SLAUGHTER OF CITY RESIDENTS BY A FRANTIC WAR V E T E R A N FROM SAN FRANCISCO (CALIFORNIA) IN 1 9 5 0 By Edward S. M o n t g o m e r y , San Francisco

4

IN RED CHINA

34

χ FROM QUEENS (NEW YORK) IN 1952 By Edward J. M o w e r y , New York World-Telegram R E - E X A M I N A T I ON OF A CITIZEN'S FROM T O P E K A

(KANSAS)

^ and

The

Sun

INCONGRUOUS C O N V I C T I O N

...

IN 1953

By Al vi η S. M c C o y , The Kansas

38 43

City

Star

STATE P U R C H A S E C O N N E C T E D W I TH FEES AND POL I ΤICAL INFLUENCE FROM AUSTIN (TEXAS) IN 1954 By Roland K. T o w e r y , The Cuero

^ Record

ABUSES ON THE A D M I N I S T R A T I O N O F A STATE LAND PROGRAM FROM NORTH ADAMS (MASSACHUSETTS) By Arthur J. Daley, The New York

44

VETERANS

50

IN 1 9 5 5 Times

55

A FAMOUS BOXER A W A I T I N G H E A V Y W E I G H T WORLD C H A M P I O N S H I P FROM SEATTLE (WASHINGTON) IN 1 9 5 6 By William 6. L a m b e r t / W a l l a c e L. T u r n e r , The

.

59 Oregonian

ILLEGAL E N T E R P R I S E S BETWEEN GAMBLERS AND UNION OFFICIALS FROM W A S H I N G T O N (DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA) IN 1 9 5 7 By George B e v e r i d g e , The Evening Star, W a s h i n g t o n ,

&5

66

FROM S C R A N T O N (PENNSYLVANIA) IN 1958 By John H. Brislin, The Soranton Tribune

73

NO APPEAL FOR LABOR LEADERS BEING SENTENCED TO PRISON FROM W A S H I N G T O N (DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA) IN 1959 By Miriam O t t e n b e r g , The Evening Star, W a s h i n g t o n ,

60

D.C.

NEED FOR NEW P O L I T I C A L A P P A R A T U S REVEALED BY G R O W I N G CITIES

U N S C R U P U L O U S CAR DEALERS' TRICKS

56

..

74 77

D.C.

IN C H E A T I N G CUSTOMERS

.

FROM B U F F A L O (NEW YORK) IN 1 9 6 0 By Edgar M a y , Buffalo Evening News DISTRESSING PROBLEMS OF STATE PUBLIC W E L F A R E PROGRAMS

78 83

..

84

XI 89

FROM CHICAGO (ILLINOIS) IN 1 9 6 1 By George W. Bliss, Chicago Tribune CITY SANITARY DISTRICT

LOADED WITH P O L I T I C A L F A V O R I T E S

FROM PECOS (TEXAS) IN 1962 By Oscar 0. Griffin Jr., The Peoos FRAUD

.

« Independent

IN INTERSTATE COMMERCE BY FORGED S E C U R I T I E S

FROM P H I L A D E L P H I A (PENNSYLVANIA) IN 1963 By Albert V. G a u d i o s i / J a m e s V. M a g e e / F r e d e r i c k A. The Philadelphia Bulletin

96 99

Meyer,

U N L A W F U L G A M B L I N G FOUND OUT BY U N D E R C O V E R A G E N T S

100 I°5

FROM PASADENA (TEXAS) IN 1964 By Gene Goltz, The Houston Post PERSONAL PROFITS GATHERED BY MAYOR AND OTHER N O T A B L E S

..

TRUE P E R P R E T A T I O N OF ROBBERIES FINALLY CLEARED UP

112

FROM SARASOTA (FLORIDA) IN 1966 By Gene M i l l e r , The Miami Herald

HT

IMPRISONED FOR TWO M U R D E R S CAN BE P R O V E D

FROM NEW Y O R K (NEW YORK) IN 1967 By J. Anthony Lukas, The New York

INNOCENT

Times

FROM ST. LOUIS (MISSOURI) IN 1968 By Albert L. Delugach/Denny Walsh, St.

Louis

132

...

146 I* 9

IN 1 9 6 9

By Harold E. M a r t i n , The Montgomery DRUG EXPERIMENTS ON PRISONERS CONCERNS

..

Globe-Democrat

CRIMINAL A G R E E M E N T S UPON AN EMPLOYEE BENEFIT PROGRAM (ALABAMA)

118 131

LAST PHASE IN THE LIFE OF A D R U G - A D D I C T E D YOUNG WOMAN

FROM M O N T G O M E R Y

106 111

FROM BARTOW (FLORIDA) IN 1 9 6 5 By John A. Frasca, The Tampa Tribune

WOMAN

90

FOR

Advertiser PHARMACEUTICAL

150

XII FROM CHICAGO (ILLINOIS) IN 1 9 7 0 By William H. J o n e s , Chicago Tribune M I S T R E A T M E N T OF PATIENTS

155

IN PRIVATE A M B U L A N C E BUSINESS

FROM S O M E R V I L L E (MASSACHUSETTS) IN 1971 By Stephen A. K u r k j i a n / T i m o t h y Lei a n d / G e r a r d M. Ann DeSantis/El1 en S. Zack, The Boston Globe

.

I6I O'Neill/

COLLUSION BETWEEN PUBLIC OFFICIALS AND FAVORED COMPANIES FROM BOYS TOWN (NEBRASKA) IN 1972 By Douglas R. Brown/Wesley R. Iversen/H. Michael Douglas D. Smith/Paul N. W i l l i a m s , West Omaha LUCRATIVE

169

170 ISI

N e w York

FEDERAL SYSTEM O F M E D I C A L CARE ABUSED BY PHYSICIANS

....

FROM INDIANAPOLIS (INDIANA) IN 1974 By William E. A n d e r s o n / H a r l e y R. Bierce/Richard E. Cady/ Gerald W. C l a r k / M y r t a Pulliam, The Indianapolis Star BRIBABLE POLICEMEN

INVOLVED

162

Rood/ Sun

INCOME OF A W E L L - K N O W N C H I L D - C A R E HOME

FROM QUEENS (NEW YORK) IN 1973 By William Sherman, Daily News,

156

109

IN CRIMINAL A C T I V I T I E S

FROM CHICAGO (ILLINOIS) IN 1 9 7 5 By George W. Bliss/James A. B r a n e g a n / W i l l i a m William C. G a i n e s / C h a r l e s N e u b a u e r / P a m e l a Chicago Tribune

190 199

B. Crawford/ Zekman,

ROTTEN CITIES R E S U L T I N G FROM A FEDERAL H O U S I N G PROGRAM . FROM WAYMART (PENNSYLVANIA) IN 1976 By Acel Moore/Wendell L. Rawls Jr., The Inquirer

182

200 207

Philadelphia

UNNATURAL CAUSES OF DEATH AT A P S Y C H I A T R I C H O S P I T A L

208

FROM STAMFORD (CONNECTICUT) IN 1 9 7 7 By Anthony R. Dolan, The Advocate, Stamford

223

GRAFTS FOR CITY POLICE TO PROTECT G A M B L I N G SYNDICATES

FROM P O T T S V I L L E (PENNSYLVANIA) IN 1 9 7 8 By Gilbert M. G a u l / E l l i o t G. Jaspin, Pottsville BANKRUPTCY OF A C O A L COMPANY W E L L - P L A N N E D

..

224

229 Republican

BY M A G N A T E S

..

230

Xill FROM BOSTON (MASSACHUSETTS) IN 1979 By Nils J. A. B r u z e l i u s / A l e x a n d e r Β. Hawes J r . / S t e p h e n K u r k j i a n / R o b e r t M. Porterfield/Joan V e n n o c h i , The Boston Globe INEFFICIENCY W I T H I N U N I O N - D O M I N A T E D AUTHORITY

237 A.

TRANSPORTATION

FROM TUCSON (ARIZONA) IN 1 9 8 0 By Clark Hal 1 a s / R o b e r t B. Lowe, The Arizona

238 245

Daily

Star

IMPROPER USE OF UNIVERSITY A T H L E T I C R E C R U I T I N G FUNDS

...

FROM S E A T T L E (WASHINGTON) IN 1981 By Paul H e n d e r s o n , The Seattle Times INNOCENT M A N WRONGLY

255

CONVICTED O F A RAPE CASE

256

FROM W A S H I N G T O N (DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA) IN 1982 By Loretta T o f a n i , The Washington Post RAPES AND VIOLENT SEXUAL A S S A U L T S

267

IN A COUNTY JAIL

268

FROM A T L A N T A (GEORGIA) IN 1983 By Kenneth J. C o o p e r / S t a n G r o s s f e l d / J o n a t h a n Kaufman/ Norman A. Lockman/Gary W. McMi11 an/Kirk S c h a r f e n b e r g / David M. Wessel , The Boston Globe MORE ECONOMIC O P P O R T U N I T I E S AND P O L I T I C A L POWER BLACKS FROM ST. P E T E R S B U R G (FLORIDA) IN 1 9 8 4 By Lucy M o r g a n / J a c k Reed, St. Petersburg

283

FOR

284 289

Times

YOUNG GIRLS A B U S E D AS BAIT IN A DRUG I N V E S T I G A T I O N FROM LEXINGTON (KENTUCKY) IN 1 9 8 5 By Jeffrey A. Marx/Michael M. York, Lexington GENEROUS

246

290 297

Herald-Leader

BENEFITS FROM BOOSTERS TO SPORTS STUDENTS

FROM PHI L A D E L P H I A (PENNSYLVANIA) IN 1 9 8 6 By Daniel R. Biddle/Henry G. Β i s s i n g e r / F r e d r i c The Philadelphia Inquirer

298 32

N.

I

Tulsky,

CONNECTIONS BETWEEN LAWYERS AND JUDGES THEY HELP ELECT

.

322

XIV FROM CHICAGO (ILLINOIS) IN 1987 BY

DEAN B A Q U E T / W I 1 1 I A M CHICAGO TRIBUNE CITY COUNCIL INTEREST

C.

DOMINATED

347

GAINES/ANN BY

WASTE

OF

M.

LIPINSKI,

MONEY

AND

SELF348

WINNERS OF THE LOCAL REPORTING AWARD, 1988 - 2001 -

INDEX

SPACE

FOR

NOTES

-

374

377

XV INTRODUCTION

HISTORY

AND D E V E L O P M E N T

OF T H E

PULITZER

PRIZE

FOR

LOCAL

REPORTING

by Heinz-Dietrich Fischer

In the reportage journalism category of the Pulitzer Prizes, the "Local Reporting" award developed later than the others. It emerged twenty years after the category "International Reporting", and seven years after the "National Reporting" awards were estab2 lished.

Originally, in 1917, there was one award for the report-

ing category, but this was gradually subdivided into special sections as the history of the award developed."* This common "Reporting" category "orginally embraced all fields - local, 4 national and international" . Local Reporting awards had been made long before an appropriate separate award category existed. Joseph Pulitzer had defined the comprehensive "Reporting" award only roughly in his will as being "for the best example of a reporter's work, - the test being strict accuracy, terseness, the accomplishment of some public good commanding public attention and respect"."' DEVELOPMENT

OF THE

GENERAL

REPORTING

CATEGORY

As the "Reporting" category was potentially wide-ranging, it is not surprising that the first award in 1917 - in the middle of the First World War - went to a reporter writing on international 1 Cf. Heinz-Dietrich Fischer/Erika J. Fischer (Eds.), The Pulitzer Prize Archive. Vol. 1: International Reporting 1928-1985. Fran the Activities of the League of Nations to present-day Global Problems, München - London - New York - Oxford - Paris 1987, pp. XVII ff. 2 Cf. Heinz-Dietrich Fischer/Erika J. Fischer (Eds.), The Pulitzer Prize Archive. Vol. 2: National Reporting, 1941-1986. From Labor Conflicts to the Challenger Disaster, München - London - New York - Paris 1988, pp. XV ff. 3 Cf. John Hohenberg, The Pulitzer Prizes. A History of the Awards in Books, Drama, Music, and Journalism. Based on the Private Files over Six Decades, New York - London 1974, pp. 28 ff. 4 Columbia University (Ed.), The Pulitzer Prizes, 1917 - 1983, New York 1983, p. 13. 5 Don C. Seitz, Joseph Pulitzer. His Life and Letters, New York 1924, p. 462.

XVI relations. The prize was given to Herbert Bayard Swope of the New York World "for articles which appeared October 10, October 15 and from November 4 daily to November 22, 1916, inclusive, entitled, 'Inside the German Empire'". ledale of the New York Evening

The following year, Harold A. LittPost was given the award "for a

series of articles exposing abuses in and leading to the reform 7 of the New York State prison". Here, a primarily regional/local subject was taken into consideration. In 1919, the decision was Ο taken to confer "no award" in the Reporting category, although a suggestion was made in the jury-report to give the prize to Philipp Gibbs "for his accurate, terse and vivid reports, published widely in g American papers, of the work of the Allies on the Western front".

In 1920 the award in this category went to John J. Leary,

Jr., of the New York World "for his series of articles written during the national coal strike in the winter of 1919".^° The "Reporting" presentation category could be broadly interpreted; for example when Louis Seibold of the same daily won the Reporting award in 1921 "for an interview with President Wilson".^ In 1922 the jury returned - according to the precise rules governing awarding the prize - back again to the classic understanding of "Reporting" when this award went to Kirke L. Simpson of the Associated

Press "for articles on the burial of 'the Un-

12

known Soldier'"

from the past year. Turning to science, Alva

Johnston of the New York Times was honored in 1923 "for his reports of the proceedings of the convention of the American Association for the Advancement of Science held in Cambridge, Mass., in December, 1922." 1 3 Other events in the field of science were reported by Magner White of the newspaper San Diego Sun, who won the Reporting award in 1924 "for his story of the eclipse of 14 the sun"

from the preceding year. His description reported the

phenomenon a solar eclipse. A totally different type of report 6 Columbia University (Ed.), op. cit., p. 13; see also Erika J. Fischer/ Heinz-D. Fischer, American Reporter at the International Political Stage. Herbert Bayard Swope end his Pulitzer Prize"Winning Articles from Germany in 1916, Bochum, FRG, 1982, pp. 44 ff. 7 Columbia University (Ed.), op. cit., p. 13. 8 Ibid. 9 Talcott Williams, Jury Report, March 12, 1919, p. 2. 10 Columbia University (Ed.), op. cit., p. 13. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14 Ibid., p. 14.

XVII

Columbia QJnitiersitp SCHOOL

yffi

Cr

ju^rc^

l{ I J F N A L l S M

March 15, 1928 REPORT of the JURY on the REPORTER'S PRIZE

The jury appointed to consider the entries for the reporter's prize regrets to report that it is unable to agree. Mr. W. P. Beazell recommends that no award, be made in the present year. A memorandum is attached giving Mr. Beazell's reasons for the recommendation. Mr· A. W. Cummins recommends that three articles be offered for the consideration of the Advisory Board of the School of Journalism, viz: 1. The account of Lindbergh's take-off for Europe and the associated articles by Russell D. Owen, of the Hew York Times. 2. The series of articles on the Remus murder trial by Frederick H. Brennen, of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, entitled "Unmasking the Court Room Farce", 3. The articles by Frank J. Prince, of the Indianapolis Times, on the political corruption in Indiana. Mr. Cooper recommends for the prize the articles on Lindbergh's take-off and the associated articles by Russell D. Owen, of the New York Times. Mr. Cooper sees high merit in the articles by Mr. Gv.*en. He considers these articles as reporting of the highest type. Mr. Owen's work, Mr. Cooper believes, is eminently worthy of consideration. The menbers of the jury regret the paucity of the entries for the prize. All of which is respectfully submitted^ Mr. W. P. .Beazell Mr. A. W. Cummins v»r. Charles ?. Cooper.

sp / Ο c ν · ^ ·-

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"**ie of the editorial writer's work during the year. $1,000. 12. Fora >r a distinguished example of a cartoonist's work, the determining qualities being that the cartoon shall embody an idea made clearly apparent, shall show good drawing and striking pictorial effect, and shall be intended to be helpful to some commentlable cause of public importance, d u e account being taken of the whole volume of the artist's work d u r i n g the year. $1,000. 13 For a distinguished example of spot news photography in black and white or color, which may consist of a photograph ph0 or photographs, a sequence or an album, $1.000. " " (No more than 20 photographs may be s u b · mittted ted ιwith each exhibit.) 14. R>r a distinguished example of feature photography in black and white or color, which may consist of a photograph or photographs, a sequence or an a l b u m . $1.000. ( N o mjjre than 20 photographs may be submit* ted with each exhibit.)

A+1.

Signature of person sponsoring this entrant

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(may be self)

Please print your name, title, and organizati Address,

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Carroll-· Ky·

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(.Please tend entry form and exhibit before February 1 to Mr. Robert C. Christopher. Secretary, The Pulitzer Prize Board, at 702 Journalism, Columbia University, New York. N.Y. 10027. Telephone: 212-280-3841— 3842. See reverse side for Plan of Award. Please make checks payable to Columbia University/Pulitzer Prizes.)

V

ENTRY FORM FOR THE 1986 COMPETITION

» ^

XLVIII RENAMING THE CATEGORY TO INVESTIGATIVE

REPORTING

In 1985 two changes concerning the choice of award winner were instituted: firstly, the category "Local Investigative Reporting" was renamed "Investigative Reporting". Secondly, the jury members of all awarding groups found the following remark on the jury report forms: "Please list your three nominations for the prize... in alphabetical order by newspaper... It is not a part of the 125 jury's charge to offer its preference among the three nominees". This stipulation was intended to give the Advisory Board more choice, and was also adopted by the "Investigative Reporting" jury (Andrew Barnes, St. Petersburg

Times; Judith G. Clabes,

Kentucky Post, Covington, Ky.; John M. Crewdson, Chicago Tribune; Acel Moore, Philadelphia

Inquirer', Lou Schwartz, Newsday, Long

Island, N.Y.) which made - in alphabetical order - the following suggestions: one journalist of the Fort Worth

Star-Telegram,

another of the Philadelphia 126Inquirer as well as two reporters of the St. Petersburg Times. The Advisory Board accepted two of the three finalist-entries and gave the award equally to William K. Marimow of the Philadelphia

Inquirer

"for his revelation that

city police dogs had attacked more than 350 people" and to Lucy Morgan and Jack Reed of the St. Petersburg

Times "for their

thorough reporting on Pasco County Sheriff John Short, which revealed his department's corruption and led to his removal from 127 office by voters". The jury members in 1986 (Michael F. Foley, St. Petersburg Times; Jay T. Harris, Philadelphia

Daily News·, Clayton Kirkpatrick,

Chicago Tribune·, John C. Quinn, USA Today, Sandra M. Rowe, Virginian Pilot, Norfolk, Va) followed 128 the selection and nomination procedure adopted in the past year and named two journalists each from the Dallas Times-Herald,

the Lexington

Herald-Leader 1 29 and the Tennessean, Nashville, as finanlist in this category.

125 Andrew Barnes/Judith G. Clabes/John M. Crewdson/Acel Moore/Lou Schwartz, Report of the Investigative Reporting Jury, March 6, 1985, p. 1. 126 Ibid. 127 Columbia University (Ed.), The 69th Pulitzer Prizes, New York, April 24, 1985, p. 2. 128 Columbia University (Ed.), Pulitzer Prize Journalism Nominating Jurors, New York, March 4, 1985, pp. 2 f. 129 Columbia University (Ed.), The 70th Annual Pulitzer Prizes, New York, April 17, 1986, p. 2.

XLIX ω c • n < ο ) Ό ΛIII 0+J •Ή Ο -Ρ >Κ) ΗΟΗ Q 3S-1idΜ iCn- PQ- υΧ! •HO}» Μ -Ρ Μ Ή Μ0) φ λ; IS Ο Λ " (0 • PS(Q CO O C cn CJ cc =c Q ccm ο 00 Oi QOi UJ rvi Q_ UJ 3: C O OL co ς:

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Μ κΐ aj Φ cn φ(Q3 ω Ο C οι C αϊ « -R Η 3nΜ Μ ω ω c > -ρ •Ρ ο COχ:CP1-1 < Α; •Ό— ι I υ ο PS α) • Η I Bα Q Vi Μ-Ι Ε-ι Φ Π Φ ι I •-ΦΡ Φ λ; υ ft Μ •ri Ο Μ Φ Uφ α Ο Φ Ό ωΧ! B.4J2 Ο Μ -Ρ CM-Ρ Ηt•nΗ• CO >1 -Ρ U •χ;υ XI 1χ: Ρμ -Ρ •tJr-l υ Φ 10 rH Μ Ό U 3 υ υ da ΡΟ Ρ Γ(Η Μ υ -Ρ Φ · Μ-ι Λ ω · r-ίω(H,Ο c υ •ν Ο εΗ -Η • 3Ο Η Ο CO £ ·Η id SHId ΚΟ CO •

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L The prize was finally given by the Advisory Board to Jeffrey A. Marx and Michael M. York of the Lexington Herald-Leader

"for

their series 'Playing Above the Rules', which exposed cash payoffs to University of Kentucky basketball players in violation of NCAA 1 30 regulations and led to significant reforms". The jurors in 1987 (Michael J. Davis, Courant, Hartford, Conn.; Michael R. Fancher, Seattle Times', Ronald S. Hutson, Boston Globe; David Kraslow, Miami News; Loretta Tofani, Washington Post) 131 had to make again three nominations, "no more and no less". They nominated two reporters each from the El Paso Herald-Post

and the Orlando

Sentinel as finalists, 132 as well as four journalists from the Philadelphia Inquirer. The Advisory Board chose the last named reporter and gave the award equally to Daniel Biddle, H.G. Bissinger and Fred N. Tulsky of the Philadelphia

Inquirer

"for their

series 'Disorder in the court'" and to John Woestendiek 133 of the same newspaper "for outstanding prison beat reporting". In Spring 1988, when making awards for the previous year, the jury members (Cheryl Arvidson, Dallas Times-Herald·, Thomas H. Greer, Cleveland Plain-Dealer·, Ralph Langer, Dallas Morning News·, Alan Moyer, Arizona Republic, Phoenix; James P. Willse, New York 134 Daily News) again made three suggestions following the general guidelines of the Advisory Board. In the process it showed that - as in the former years - factually merely journalist teams belonged to the final-placed. Larry Copeland and Tracy Thompson of the Atlanta Journal and Constitution

belonged to the finalists

"for documenting pervasive racial injustice in Georgia's Toombs Judicial Circuit", besides Carlton Smith and Thomas Guillen of the Seattle Times "for their reports on the mishandled investigation of the Green River135 murders, the biggest unsolved serial killer case in America". The Advisory Board gave the (local) "Investigative Reporting" award to a team of three, consisting of Dean Baquet, William Gaines and Ann Marie Lipinski of the 130 Ibid. 131 Columbia University (Ed.), Pulitzer Prize Journalism Nominating Jurors, New York, March 2, 1987, pp. 2 f. 132 Columbia University (Ed.), The 71st Annual Pulitzer Prizes, New York, April 16, 1987, p. 2. 133 Ibid. 134 Columbia University (Ed.), 1988 Pulitzer Prize Nominating Jurors in Journalism, New York, March 31, 1988, p. 1. 135 Columbia University (Ed.), The 72nd Annual Pulitzer Prizes, New York, March 31, 1988, p. 2.

LI

For years Chicagoans have joked about the integrity of their City Council and the newspaper editorial pages have moaned about the quality of the city's political leadership. But aside from the occasional federal indictment of an alderman and the reporting of their constant political antics, the story of this unique legislative behemoth has gone largely untold—until now. In late 1986, Chicago Tribune editors decided to devote whatever time and resources necessary in 1987 to find out about the City Council and tell everyone about it. The result is a genuine "corker" of a story that both stunned and entertained Tribune readers for days and is continuing to send shock waves through the power structure of the city and state. In a six-month investigation, reporters Dean Baquet, Ann Marie Lipinski and William Gaines conducted hundreds of interviews with aldermen and their employees, City Hall officials, lobbyists and constituents. They examined dozens of land transactions, including ownership of all aldermanic ward offices and business deals involving members of the council and their partners. They looked at thousands of vouchers reflecting expenditures of all 28 council committees. And they reviewed each of the more than 600 zoning changes that have gone through the council during a three-year period. The result was an imaginative, well written—and devastating—profile of a corrupt city council and the narrow-minded self interest of its 50 members. For the first time, reporters showed how city council committees spend lavishly but do little work, how alderman waste—and sometimes even pocket—office allowances, and how they misuse their zoning power to the detriment of the entire city. And they balanced this solid investigative reporting with human stories that enhanced the readability of the series, detailing Aid. Bill Henry's use of his office to push his own Soul Cola and freshman Aid. Joseph Kotlarz' quick rise from city gas station attendant to well-connected alderman. PART OF THE 1987/88 ENTRY BY THE CHICAGO

TRIBUNE

LI I Chicago Tribune. They received the award "for their detailed reporting on the self-interest and waste that plague Chicago's 136

City Council".

The revealing series of articles had been

written "to send shock waves through the power structure of the city and state... The result was an imaginative, well written and devasting - profile of a corrupt city council and the narrow1 37 minded self interest of its fifty members" in the metropolis. In conclusion, looking back over the forty years history of the Pulitzer Prize for Local Reporting one can see that it became necessary from early on to distinguish between "Spot News Reporting" and "Local Investigative Reporting", despite problems which occasionally arose with the clear distinction between these 138

categories.

As Hohenberg states, there are "hundreds of in-

stances of investigative reporting in the annals of the Pulitzer Prizes... They include reporters and editors who work for large papers and small ones, youngsters and veterans, people from widely separated sections of the land and cases that would scarcely have created a ripple of interest among reporters fifty to sixty years ago. By their efforts, these are the investigators who - with so many others - have 139 earned their right to be called the "Watchdogs of Democracy'".

Because "to serve as a watch-

dog" as Sloan et al. emphasize in general, is "one of the newspaper's most important functions... Corruption and official legal actions that are not performed with the public's best interests in mind would be much more prevalent were it not for the constant scrutiny of newsmen... Investigative reporting requires more patience than most other types of news gathering. Anyone those actions, if exposed, would be subject to criticism, condemnation, or incrimination going to try to information", put every possible obstacle 1 40 especially in the way of the is reporter seeking within the area of local reporting.

1 41

136 Ibid. 137 James D. Squires, Accompanying Text of the Chicago Tribune entry, undated, Pulitzer Prize Office, New York. 138 Cf. Herbert Brucker, Reporting Awards, in: Columbia Library Columns (New York), Vol. VI/No. 3, May, 1957, p. 18. 139 John Hohenberg (Ed.), The Pulitzer Prize Story II. Award-winning News Stories, Columns, Editorials, Cartoons, and News Pictures, 1959 - 1980, New York 1980, p. 76. 140 William David Sloan et al. (Eds.), op. cit., p. 123. 141 Cf. Heinz-Dietrich Fischer, Publizistik in Suburbia. Strukturen und Funktionen amerikanischer Vorortzeitungen, Dortmund, FRG, 1971, pp. 39 ff.

Η Κ m ^

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SELECTIONS FROM AWARD-WINNING ENTRIES

2 REMARKS ABOUT THE SELECTIONS CRITERIA

While selecting the Pulitzer Prize-winning articles in the category Local Reporting and preparing them for republication the editor was guided by the following ten principles: * There is a short biography of every prize-winner at the beginning of each chapter, ranging up to the year when the award was bestowed. * The information about the prize-winners is based on the biographical notes attached to the award-winning entries as well as biographical reference books. * Although several prize winning texts by each prize-winner were available, it was possible to reprint only one complete text in order to limit the size of the book. * The texts to be reprinted were selected so as best to illustrate the topics mentioned in the reasons of the award. * Every reprinted article was checked in the original newspaper edition for accuracy because some of the entry texts showed gaps or other faults. * The editor added new headings to all of the reprinted journalistic texts in order to describe each topic as succinctly as possible because some of the articles were written several decades ago. * At the same time the original headlines of each newspaper article remain, supplemented by detailed references to the original publications. * The detailed references include precise information about the volume, number, page(s), and column(s) to simplify the search for the journalistic texts in the original newspaper editions. * Paragraphs, subheadings, and other typographic peculiarities in the original texts were left unchanged in the reprinted texts. *

Corrections were made in the reprinted texts only in case of obvious typographical errors or garbled lines in the original texts.

3

FROM MCRAE (GEORGIA) IN 1947 BY G E O R G E E, GOODWIN The Atlanta

George

Evans Goodwin

Journal

(born on June 20, 1917, in Atlanta, Ga.) was

educated in the Atlanta public schools. In 1939 he was graduated from Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Va., with an A.B. degree and

a

certificate

in

journalism. During World War II he

served as a naval officer for three years, twenty months of these were spent overseas as intelligence officer for motor torpedo boat squadrons. Afterwards he started his career as

a

journalist and

worked as a reporter and feature writer on the Atlanta the Hews and Courier Herald,

and the Miami

lanta Journal

of Charleston, Daily

S.C.,

News. George

Georgian,

the Washington Goodwin

Times-

joined the At-

staff in December, 1945. He became a member of Delta

Tau Delta social fraternity and of Sigma Delta Chi, a professional journalism fraternity. At the Atlanta fields were investigative reporting ticularly

on

and

municipal government. In

Pulitzer Prize winner for

a

Journal

Goodwin's

political writing, par1948

he became the first

distinguished example

porting during the previous year.

special

of

Local Re-

4 APPARENT

FRAUD

IN

THE

ELECTION

PROCESS

FOR

A

GOVERNOR

[Source: George E. Goodwin: New Telfair vote evidence found. Three balloted from grave, in: Th& Atlanta Journal (Atlanta, Ga.), Vol. LXV/No. 42, April 6, 1947, section 2, p. 1, cols. 5 - 7; p. 2, col. 4; reprinted by permission of the Atlanta Journal, Atlanta, Ga.]

"Telfair Dead Were Voted," proclaimed a headline appearing in The Atlanta Journal on Sunday, March 2. The state, the South, the nation were shocked by the disclosures presented, backed up by facsimiles of documents. It was shown in that edition that the names of persons long dead, persons who had moved from the county, and persons nonexistent had been certified as having voted on Nov. 5, in the Helena precinct of Telfair county, the Talmadge home county, whose 48 write-in votes for Herman Talmadge, mysteriously turning up at the last minute when the legislature was canvassing the election returns, resulted in his illegal election by that body as governor of Georgia. It was further shown, by the reproduced voters' list of 103, that the last 34 names appeared in alphabetical order. Such a list, when legally compiled, records the voters in the order in which they cast their ballots. Although this revelation was published more than a month ago, Telfair officials have come up with no explanation for the exposed irregularities, which included certification by certain election officials of obviously fraudulent returns. The only answer, aside from charges of "running hydrophobia" by the recently deposed Herman Talmadge, was distribution of a list of 77 residents of Telfair county whose signatures testified that they had voted for Herman in the general election. Study of that list showed that it included the names of eight persons whose names appeared in that portion of the voters' list arranged in alphabetical order. (See facsimile.) If all those who thus certified they voted for Herman Talmadge actually did so vote, then all of the fraudulent votes of dead persons, former residents of Telfair county, nonexistent persons and others who declared that they did not vote at all, would have had to have been cast for the late Eugene Talmadge, who, being unopposed on the ballot, needed no extra votes.

5

NAMES ON LIST OF VOTERS FROM HELENA PRECINCT IN TELFAIR COUNTY Supposedly in order in which ballots were cast. Note last 34 are alphabetical.

[Source: The Atlanta

Journal,

March 2, 1947, p. 1.]

6 HANDWRITING TESTS Returns from Telfair county on file with the secretary of state as public records have been examined under microscope by a handwriting expert who m a d e the following

observations:

1. All the names on the Helena voters' list except two were written by the same m a n , who was identified through his handwriting. 2. The precinct return was m a d e out by another election official who likewise was identified by handwriting

specimens.

3. The tally sheet for the governor's contest shows that the tally marks for Eugene Talmadge and the first ten tally marks for Herman Talmadge apparently were kept by one m a n , while another wrote over one set of Herman's tally marks and then added 38 more to bring the younger T a l m a d g e 1 s total to 48. Thus Herman Talmadge appears to have received 10 legitimate write-in votes in the Helena precinct, instead of the 48 certified. Note: Since the tally sheet is small, and since ballots usually are tallied in the order in w h i c h they are taken from the ballot box, it is the common practice for only one p e r s o n to keep the tally for all candidates in any one race. POSTMARK

DISCREPANCY

Although both the Telfair county ordinary and the clerk of the Superior court declared that all the returns were m a i l e d on the afternoon of November 6, postmarks on all three Telfair envelopes bear the time-date of 1 p.m., Nov. 7. After The Journal's expose of M a r c h 2, letters and telephone calls were received from persons who had seen their own names or those of relatives on the list, although not voting. Later affidavits, d e a t h certificates and photographs of graves of dead "voters" were obtained to bring to more than 20 the total of persons listed as voting in Helena precinct who actually did not vote. Others included in the alphabetical listing of the last 34 names on the Helena voters' list could not be reached for questioning because they had m o v e d out of the county or, in some instances, out of the state. Not only in the alphabetical listings of 34 names but elsewhere in the voters 1

list were found names of people who did not go to

7 6 fr SUPERINTENDENTS. Coonty, ίο l£d oath· *t* &pehj,fc oeM dei ucsad· «ad provid Βf Tlrtu« of the S»tias tuti oi kBi ca df ed,«ηuhe« day of November, 1946, it /TC-^-^ft.tii tb· Coaatr Governor mad ««, tb* Superieteodeati, do bweby certify thaBtt,iBfspoa ut Üio veto· polled, tfee followtox ie tb· raalt; DEMOCRATIC PARTY— Nam· of Ca&didata for Governor: EacafvodEUGENE TALMADGB INDEPENDENT— Nimtjl CU1'.t J — —— ' ( A * * · » J^n «·**•«*. MJ

Rep.,_ T e a m s t e r ^ Dnlon^ _.

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o»d fhotThc»» w ^ t o t d w i i i ^ i i

pofWßrf « A d m e e n e t «oW ttot».

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Oregonian,

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63 and remove him from the scene. He immediately broke off relations with the Seattle pair. But before the break, the plotters met together frequently. Their base of operations was an apartment in Portland's King Towers which Maloney occupied when he was in town. From there they planned their illegal ventures. Initially they were bold. Once Maloney called on Mayor Peterson and demanded that Peterson order Purcell to permit operation of two illegal enterprises in the Williams avenue district. Peterson refused. Later Crosby demanded that Peterson replace Purcell as police chief. Despite threats of political reprisal by the teamster leader, Peterson refused this demand, just as he had Maloney's earlier ultimatum. Elkins played along with the Seattle pair, despite his objections to their plan, because at first he thought he wasn't strong enough to fight the combine. Meetings were held surreptitiously in Crosby's home, in automobiles on side streets and in Maloney's King Towers apartment. When they met in Crosby's home, they usually planned their activities in his basement party room, which Elkins had helped build and had helped furnish by providing two slot machines for the amusement of Crosby's guests. During this uneasy partnership Maloney was the liaison man for the Seattle group. Maloney's activities, however, came to an abrupt halt in Portland when Elkins broke with the others. Maloney left suddenly after a mysterious late-night automobile chase that began in the West Hills. Pursued by an unidentified car with its lights off, Maloney drove at breakneck speed until he reached the bright lights of the downtown district. He parked near the police station and sat in his car all night, then left hurriedly the following morning. Since the falling out, the Seattle group has made repeated approaches to Elkins with the aim of bringing him back into their organization, but he has refused despite threats that he might be framed on a felony charge or that he might be killed. McLaughlin was in Portland as recently as Thursday, April 5. He arrived on a plane, then met with Elkins in the Rialto billiard

64

Sheriff Delays Voiding Gun Permit UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE FEDEHAl BDBEAU OP IftVEgTKUTlON wumxcmt a.». c

•M·. A, t^ky^At M** Λ

Th» M W n j FBI reooni, NUMBER NUMMH

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No

Park Commnnity Medici Baildini on Rockaw.y Bird. wa. vinittd By [Source: Daily News, January 23, 1973, p. 36.]

NEWS photo try M«l Flnktlslcln inrMtigator*.

NEWS

184 TOE TO HEAD Socks and shoes were removed and the podiatrist squeezed both feet, looked up and asked, "Ever have any trouble with these feet?" "Nope, I have this cold. How come I'm seeing a foot doctor?" "Well, here we examine everybody from the ground up and we're starting with your feet. We'll get to the rest of you later." A light rash on the patient's left foot was noted, and Geller asked, "How long have you had this?" "A couple of days,"' said the patient. "I'll write you out some prescriptions; you get them filled upstairs. Rub the cream on and it will be all better." "Why should I get them filled upstairs? I have a drugstore in my neighborhood." "The pharmacist here knows what the doctors write for and they stock accordingly," said the foot specialist. MUST HAVE A CHOICE Medicaid regulations specifically require that doctors give patients complete freedom of choice in choosing a pharmacy to fill prescriptions. Geller wrote out the prescriptions for a combination of foot powders and the cream and told the patient his rash was a "fungus growth."

(A Health Department podiatrist said later that for such

a reading, a culture should have been taken. This was not done.) The Park Community podiatrist completed his examination in five minutes, reminded the patient "not to worry" and beckoned for the receptionist. She promptly whisked the patient into another office — this time a 4-by-8-foot examination room manned by Dr. Henry Wilkins, an internist. "What's your trouble?" asked Wilkins, reaching for a stethoscope. "A cold." "How long have you had it?" "A couple of days. Since I caught it I haven't been sleeping so good." USUAL

PROCEDURE

Wilkins then examined the patient's throat with the usual "say ah" procedure, thumped the patient's forehead with a finger,

185 asking if it hurt, listened to the patient's chest with the stethoscope, took a blood pressure reading, asked if there was a fever or muscular aches and then began to open a package containing a disposable syringe. All this took four minutes, and the patient said he didn't know if he had a fever. The doctor never took his temperature, but he noted a "slightly red throat" and then abruptly announced, "You have the London flu. Roll up your sleeve, I'm going to give you a shot of penicillin." (Influenza is caused by a virus that is not affected by penicillin.) "Hey, I don't want any shots!" the patient yelped. "It won't hurt, it'll make you better," said Wilkins. "I don't want it, I don't need it, needles make me nervous," said the patient. AN RX

INSTEAD

Wilkins looked up with a frown, made a note of the patient's refusal, and left the disposable syringe lying on the piece of cotton on his desk. "All right," he said, "I'm writing you a prescription for penicillin, a cough medicine, and some pills to take twice a day that will relax you." Then, on a blue sheet of paper he wrote that the patient should have an electrocardiogram, blood tests, X-rays and a urine test. When the patient balked at all but the urine specimen, the doctor explained that "the tests will determine if there is anything more seriously wrong." Wilkins walked out into the hall and beckoned to the receptionist. The patient was led into a similar adjacent examining room by the woman, who said, "Another doctor wants to see you." Seconds later, a stocky man in a beige sport jacket walked in and sat down. He looked at the patient's chart, introduced himself as Dr. Samuel Kramer and said softly, "How do you feel?" ENTER

SEX

"I have a cold and I'm not sleeping so good." "You look depressed. Are you always this depressed?" "No." "Do you have a girl friend." "Do you?" the reporter retorted, wondering why a cold complaint was transposed into an investigation of a patient's sex life.

186

Podiatrist examines NEWS reporter's foot.

Next, reporter has blood pressure examined by internist.

Internist interviews patient before writing prescriptions.

N E W S photos by Mel flnkelstein

Finally, psychiatrist advises reporter to see him weekly.

[Source:

Daily

News,

January

23,

1973, p .

7.]

187 After questions on the patient's family background and job history, Kramer leaned forward, looked very seriously into the patient's eyes and said, "You seem afraid." "I'm not." "Well, you shouldn't worry about injections... I'm going to write you a prescription for some pills that will let you sleep better; you'll feel more relaxed." "Come in Monday", he added. "I'd like to see you one day a week to work out your problems." NO R E C O R D

FOUND

The interview with Dr. Kramer was finished in about 15 minutes. During this period the doctor took no notes and made no references on the patient's chart, not even a mention of the tranquilizer prescribed. Later, the Health Department's senior medical auditor, Dr. Howard Katz, inspected the center's records and reported that there was no objective indication for a psychiatric examination. In fact, no record of the examination was found at the center, he said. On the way out of the psychiatrist's office, Wilkins, the internist, reminded the patient, "Come back Wednesday, no matter how well you're feeling; I have to check you out again." The patient nodded assent and followed the podiatrist's instructions to get the prescriptions filled upstairs. With his "cousin" still in tow, he walked to a room on the second floor blocked by a Dutch door with a counter on top. A sign read "Rakal Pharmacy —medicaid accepted." SHORT

COUNT

The patient handed his prescriptions to a young man behind the counter who identified himself as Howard Feder. Moments later Feder delivered the six various tubes and vials to the patient, and the reporter and his "cousin" then left for the day. One hour later, at the Health Department, pharmacist Eli Gorelik counted and identified the drugs. A photograph had been taken of the prescriptions before they were filled, and Gorelik stated that four ounces of Benylin expectorant, a cough medicine, had been prescribed. The patient was given the cough medicine in a threeounce bottle.

188 INEFFECTIVE

POWDERS

Later, Dr. Katz noted that penicillin is not an effective cure for the patient's complaint, a cold, nor is it effective in treating influenza, the internist's diagnosis. He added that three of the drugs were contra-indicated — they are dangerous when taken in combination — and that the sleeping pills, tranquilizers and cough medicine were enough to keep the patient in a daze for a week if taken as prescribed. A Health Department podiatrist said that the foot powders, which the druggist inexplicably put in a bottle with a Tetracyclin label, were so mild and nonspecific that they would have no effect on a fungus. The costs of the patient's first day of care for his "cold" at the center, based on the city's medicaid fee schedule, were

$5.20

for the podiatrist's exam, $15 for the internist, $20 for the psychiatrist and $2 for the urine specimen, a total of $42.20. Health Department pharmacist Gorelik, referring to the 1973 Drug Topics Redbook used for medicaid billing, determined that the six prescriptions would cost

$21.60.

The total potential bill was $63.80. Katz said that if the center had only handled the patient's complaint, a cold, the bill would have been about $10, for time spent in an examination and for the prescription for cough medicine. Nobody knows how much the doctors at the center will actually charge for the services performed for the NEWS reporter. Since he was a "medicaid patient" the bills will be forwarded to the Department of Health, where experts will decide which charges are allowable. Any cost determined to be legitimate will be paid to the Health Department by the News. Meanwhile, the cold treatment at the center was far from over.

189

FROM INDIANAPOLIS (INDIANA) IN 1 9 7 4 BY

WILLIAM E. ANDERSON / HARLEY R. BIERCE / RICHARD E. CADY / GERALD W. CLARK / MYRTA PULLIAM The Indianapolis

William

Eugene Anderson

Star

(born on M a r c h 31 , 1 9 2 6 , in

Ind.) attended Butler University fore he came to the Indianapolis tor for an Indianapolis

and Star,

radio

Indianapolis,

served in the US A r m y .

he worked as a news d i r e c -

station and served three y e a r s

press secretary to the Mayor of Indianapolis. - H a r l e y (born in 1941) For

some

Industry Star

graduated

time

he

Magazine.

as

After Richard

-

Mich.) worked

for

the editor of Indiana

joining

of Ypsilanti,

Mich.,

of

and

the Indianapoli

assignment,

E. C a d y

the Guide

the

police

beat,

(born

Detroit

Star. city

His hall,

News

assistant

and

handled

newspaper. - M y r t a

all

types

Pulliam

of

Press

photographic

Evening

Tribune

Indianapolis

assignment

(born in 1947) graduated from

as

feature

writer

and

home

editor before joining the staff of the Indianapolis

for the

California

the

in

1970.

Investiga-

1 9 7 5 Local Reporting Pulitzer Prize

articles published the year

before.

Sun

furnishings

Star

These five journalists, forming the Indianapolis Star tive Team, received

and 1939

(born in

Western University at San Diego. She worked one year for the Diego

the

general

city editor

W. C l a r k

and

Rapids,

before he joined

in Bloomfield, Ind.) worked as a photographer for the Star

and

legislature

functions included

chief of the legislative bureau. - G e r a l d

1964.

Indianapolis

1940 in Grand

in

in

Business

staff of the

as

Bierce

in Dearborn, Mich., the Daily

the s

R.

Indiana State University

his assignments included science, medicine,

police beats.

staff

from

worked

Be-

for

190 BRIBABLE POLICEMEN INVOLVED

IN CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES

[Source: William E. Anderson/Harley R. Bierce/Richard E. Cady/Gerald W. Clark/ Myrta Pulliam: City Police Corruption Exposed, in: The Indianapolis Star (Indianapolis, Ind.), Vol. 71/No. 264, February 24, 1974, p. 1, cols. 1 - 6; p. 20, cols. 1 - 6 ; reprinted by permission of the Indianapolis Star, Indianapolis, Ind.]

Widespread corruption in the Indianapolis Police Department — including graft and protection for prostitution, narcotics, bootlegging and gambling — has been uncovered in a six-month investigation by The Indianapolis Star. Involvement in corruption by dozens of Indianapolis policemen is not hunted to taking money, but has led some members of the department into criminal activities, the probe showed. Allegations of bribery and other wrongdoing over a period of five years are being investigated by the FBI and other Federal agencies. Information obtained by The Star has been made available to Federal investigators. The Star investigation showed that vice operations in the city over the last decade add up to an estimated $40 million annual "pie," while the illegal narcotics trade is well over that figure. The majority of illegal money filters up to high-ranking policemen and a few key political figures. Aided by 28 city policemen who — disgusted with what has been occurring — provided statements, tape recordings, records or other assistance, the investigation showed that corruption reaches into many areas of the department and includes high-ranking policemen. Eight Marion County sheriff's detectives also provided information and other assistance, including statements from persons with direct knowledge of graft. In all, reporters interviewed more than 400 persons, including a total of 60 policemen plus several former policemen. Besides a startling picture of police links to bootleggers, gamblers, two houses of prostitution, influence peddlers and illicit drug sales and shakedowns, the probe also showed: 1 A variety of instances of detectives taking money to fix court cases or free suspects, including two murder cases. 2 Involvement of political figures and several vice policemen in protection for massage parlors. 3 Links between up to a dozen policemen and an illegal fencing operation of stolen goods.

191 4 P a r t i c i p a t i o n by at l e a s t s e v e n p o l i c e m e n i n t h e f t s w h i l e

on

duty. 5 Shakedowns involving at least three

taverns.

6 Two detectives taking money from burglars and helping "arrange"

to

burglaries.

7 Abuses in the Police Coffee Can Fund, the c o l l e c t i o n to h e l p n e e d y

departmental

families.

8 T h e f t s by a t l e a s t f o u r p o l i c e m e n of m o n e y d o n a t e d to t h e Police Athletic League 9 Charges criminal

(PAL)

Clubs.

t h a t d e t e c t i v e s t o o k m o n e y to r e d u c e b a i l b o n d s

on

suspects.

10 M i s u s e of d e p a r t m e n t e q u i p m e n t a n d

property.

11 D i s a p p e a r a n c e of w e a p o n s f r o m the p o l i c e p r o p e r t y

room.

12 A l l e g e d i n v o l v e m e n t of a p o l i c e m a n i n a r r a n g i n g a t a v e r n that also m a y have involved a suspected M a f i a 13 A l t e r i n g of c r i m i n a l s u s p e c t s '

figure.

records.

14 I n v o l v e m e n t of p o l i c e m e n w i t h a l o c a l u n d e r w o r l d who has enjoyed a "privileged"

fire

figure

status.

15 S e l l i n g of p a r k i n g " f r a n c h i s e s " b y s e v e r a l t r a f f i c men. Details on these matters will be brought out in

police-

ensuing

stories. W h i l e s p e c i f i c i n f o r m a t i o n w a s g a t h e r e d o n a v a r i e t y of a c t s , k n o w l e d g e a b l e p o l i c e m e n w h o a i d e d in t h e p r o b e s a i d b e l i e v e d t h e c o r r u p t i o n w a s far m o r e

illicit they

extensive.

T h e i n v e s t i g a t i o n d e t e r m i n e d t h a t m u c h of t h e w r o n g d o i n g a political basis, w i t h police in m a n y cases only a tool c o n t r o l — or n o t c o n t r o l — c r i m i n a l a n d v i c e

has

to

activities.

T h e 28 p o l i c e m e n , w h o h a v e a n a v e r a g e of 12 y e a r s o n t h e department and include

15 p a t r o l m e n , c o - o p e r a t e d a t p e r s o n a l

b u t w i t h the u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h a t a f a i r a n d i m p a r t i a l

risk

investigation

would be undertaken. M o s t of t h e m d e c i d e d to h e l p h o w e v e r t h e y c o u l d — a n d i n some c a s e s t e s t i f y if n e c e s s a r y a g a i n s t o t h e r p o l i c e m a n — b e c a u s e

they

s a i d they w e r e c o n v i n c e d "the s y s t e m " w a s g e t t i n g w o r s e a n d t h e i n t e g r i t y of t h e i r o w n c a r e e r s w a s a t s t a k e . A l s o , m o s t of t h e s e m e n s a i d they h a v e b e c o m e

increasingly

u p s e t i n r e c e n t y e a r s w i t h g r o w i n g c o r r u p t i o n i n the racket.

narcotics

192 One patrolman with seven years on the department declared: "You can want to go out and be a high-ranking policeman without wanting to take bribes and things, but you have to at least turn your head even if you don't take the money on your way up, or you don't get up. "The first time you take a stand against it, you're moved out of the way. You become a threat." He added: "I had to swear I was going to enforce the law, and I didn't get to pick and choose them. They didn't say you can choose the ones you want — you enforce all of them. "I wouldn't want to go out and just spend all of my time knocking off bootleggers, numbers and prostitution —there's a lot more serious crimes to be worked on, that should be worked on. "But, at the same time, if I see a situation that needs correction, I should be able to make the arrest and not be harassed, moved, set up, whatever he deal is. "What it's boiled down to is these people have become more powerful than the lav/." A police sergeant who co-operated in the investigation said: "For a long time I closed my eyes to it. I didn't want to believe that police were bad, but they are." The policemen complained that attempts to get help from within the department or from public officials resulted usually in cover-up investigations or led to the complaining policeman being branded as a troublemaker. They related — and documented — numerous instances of patrolmen being moved from their assigned district to a new area or some minor headquarters job because they refused to ignore operations of a brothel, bootlegger or numbers racket. They also explained how periodic arrests are made to exert pressure on vice figures and criminals for money or to make the arrest totals look good. At least three policemen and a source who has worked with the department for close to a decade described corrupt policemen as a "Police Mafia." One patrolman who has been on the street five years and has confidential sources in many areas of the department said he was

193 convinced the crime rate could be slashed significantly if departmental corruption was stemmed. While many patrolmen have remained clean — a "new breed," as one lieutenant put it — those who do get involved in illicit acts usually are limited to petty graft, with some exceptions. For example, at least three women in the city were identified as what police call "fruit broads," that is, women who provide free sex to police while the men are on duty. Police also are tempted by "deals" on food, furniture, automobiles, clothes and the like, and while in most cases the acts are aboveboard, they sometimes lead to "favors" and more serious "deals." There also are "clean" high-ranking policemen, though many are aware of aspects of what has been occurring and several agreed to come forward later. Some of the police receive, or have received in the past, small amounts — $6, $10, $20 — for themselves on a weekly or monthly basis, while the persons making the payoff —numbers operators, bootleggers or gamblers — usually get together what police call a "pie" — $500 or more — for periodic distribution to select higher-ups. In trying to give a general picture of elements of street corruption, some of the policemen who co-operated in the probe told the police and political "bag men" instances where other policemen collected money, whisky or other favors, and cases where they themselves were approached with bribes. Invariably, they said, complaints to superiors brought a hohum response or an "investigation" in which nothing was done. One patrolman, faced with three consecutive bribery propositions, said he reported them to his relief sergeant and the sergeant went and got the money. "I told him about it," the patrolman remembered, "and he said, 'Well, if there's money up for grabs I might as well go get it.'" In another instance, involving another patrolman, the patrolman filed a complaint to the vice office on a fellow patrolman taking a bottle of whisky from a bootlegger. The other patrolman later was promoted to sergeant. The complaining patrolman never was questioned about the

194

c i t y o r i*nDiA*r.A.FOi-ie «I

October 3. 1*7«

The Honorable «Ulli· >. Sub« Attorn·? Ceaeral Waahlngton. D.C. 20330 Dear Mr. Attorn«? Caneral: I «A writ 1BJ this lattar to bring to your attention · MCtar of grave laportaaea to thla ι iiaannlrj In tha couria of investigating allegations of corruption within tha' Indianapolis Folie« Department, th«( Marlon County Grand Jury haa heard ovar one hundred fifty vltnaaaaa. Aa a ree'ult of- thoaa Crand Jury Invastlgatloaa; flva aeabara of the Indlanapolla folic· D«p»rta«nt and two raportara of Tha Indlanapolla Star hava baan lndletad. On March 11, 1974, tha offlea of th· Marlon County Proiacutor and tha Marlon County Crand Jury patltlonad tha Canaral Tar* of tha Marlon County Crlalnal Court to laaua an order authorising tha· to ahara and u k i available to* tha Federal Bureau of Investigation all tsstlaeay received by tha Crand Jury related to tha Investigation lata alleged corruption la th· law enforcement ayataa. That petition vaa granted and tha Crlalnal Court ordered that all teetlaony be delivered to tha F.I.I. That order has· aubaequeatly baan renewed and It la our uoderstending that tha F.B.I. baa received all auch teatiaony that had bean presented to the Craad Jury. Many cltltans are daaply concerned about charges that tha Marlon County Prosecutor haa iaproptrly aanlpulated the Craad Jury and that tha Craad Jury haa heard evidence aufflclent to teuae Indlctaaata to laaua but haa failed to ladlct. They quastlon whether the Harloa County* Prosecutor haa laprop«rly cauaad th· two Indlanapolla Scar reporter· to be ladlcted, la violation of their civil rlghta. In view of the fact that an agincy of your Departaent has in it» poaeaaaloo all tastiaony upon whieh Indlctaaata were founded, I raapectfully raquaat that you personally 'review aald taatlaoay and deteralne whether tha civil rights of tha two reporters or five pollcaaan h*v· in any nanncr b«*n violatad. I would further requeat that In r*vi*wlng s«id tistlaony you not· and coaaent oa whether the actions of th· Protacutor indlcat· aanipulatlon of the Grand Jury. Lastly, I would appreciate your aivi:· aa to whether all paraona ware indicted against whoa probtbl· caus· was shown. tour proapt attention to this aarioua aattar will ba appreciated.

tlchard C. Lugar Mayor

XGl/|l

LETTER FROM MAYOR LUGAR TO ATTORNEY GENERAL SAXBE [Source: The Indianapolis

Star,

October 4, 1974, p.

14.]

195 complaint by his superiors, but later talked to the man against whom he made the complaint. "He said, 'Everybody is doing it, you know,' there wasn't nothing wrong with it. You know, I might as well get used to it because I'm going to see it." Later, the patrolman was told by the same officer, "What we done were the same things the sergeant did." He later got confirmation of this. He learned, he said, that such activities were common knowledge among many men on the street, but that a complaint would result in the complaining patrolmen being marked as a man, not to be trusted. The investigation showed that wide-open vice activities here went partly underground about 1 V2 years ago. Knowledgeable policemen were unable to explain why this happened, though most attributed it to a departmental shakeup amid reports some policemen had been "getting too greedy." These police described a system where departmental promotions are carefully controlled to make sure the "right" man is put in charge of key areas such as vice, and in some instances rank can be bought. Although the department has publicly maintained an image of a working merit system, promotion examinations are controlled and policemen with outstanding records on the street have remained petrolmen because they have made known they will not take part in wrongdoing or turn their heads to wrongdoing by others. One policeman, assigned to the "George" sector (near Westside), said he had been patrolling Indiana Avenue not long when a known bootlegger approached him and offered to get him promoted to sergeant for $500. A veteran policeman later confirmed such offers were commonplace and promotions could be attained by the "right people." The policeman who commented about criminal and vice elements being "more powerful" than the police related how he first witnessed "blatant money-taking" when he first came on the department and was assigned temporarily to the "George" sector. His first experience with corruption was when the policeman with whom he was assigned accepted varying amounts of money at

196 six locations —

three known gambling places and three conducting

illegal Sunday sales of alcoholic beverages. The patrolman said these instances of bribery were a "personal thing" between his temporary partner, whom he identified, and the gamblers and bootleggers. He said he was told by his sergeant that it was "generally accepted" there was nothing patrolmen could do about gambling and bootlegging, even though it was open and flagrant. Shortly after that, he said, one of the gamblers approached him and offered a $100 bill. He refused, but the gambler made the same offer twice again, and the patrolman could get nothing done about it when he described the incidents to his sergeant and lieutenant. Later, this patrolman was warned by his lieutenant not to "harass" illegal vice operations, even though repeated interdepartment complaints to the vice squad resulted in no action and he became convinced vice activities played a role in other, major crimes. Approached with additional bribery offers later, the patrolman continued to watch illegal vice activites and chase away customers, but when he arrested a "lieutenant" of a gambler for carrying a concealed weapon, he was moved to another district the next day. In another instance, the patrolman confiscated a secret list detailing names of persons involved in bootlegging, gambling, numbers, bank clearing slips and prostitution. Although a copy was given to the vice squad, few of the persons on the list were touched until another copy was given to the FBI later —

by the patrolman.

Many of these indentified in the list are in operation today or never have been arrested, The Star's investigation showed. The police sergeant who had tried to ignore what he was seeing and hearing identified policemen who acted as "bag men" and related how he himself had been offered a choice of "cigars, money, whisky or women." Once moved to a new district after clashing with superiors over attempts to shut down a brothel, the sergeant also told of being warned to "lay off" numbers and gambling joints by a lieutenant and another sergeant.

197 Yet another patrolman reported constant harassment by his superiors for his attempts to close down a bootlegger. The patrolman said when the bootlegger offered to bribe him, the bootlegger proposed $35 weekly and said he could fix it up so that other bootleggers and gamblers in the district also would pay, a total of $300 weekly at the minimum. Besides regular payoffs, this patrolman related, there also were Christmas bonuses. In December of 1971, for example, the patrolman's lieutenant picked up "gifts" of $150 each for policemen in the district from a near-Westside gambler. Another patrolman also described one Christmas Eve when three vice policemen spent the evening going from "vice place to vice place" picking up hams, liquors and other gifts. At one bootleg place they got seven hams, and went to headquarters several times to unload the trunk of the vice car and put the booty in their personal cars. Graft ranges from such small "gifts" to other minor incidents, such as when a man arrested for drunkenness dropped a $10 bill. Two policemen who picked it up suggested they split it with the patrolman who made the arrest. "I said, 'Listen, I've never taken any money and I don't intend to start now.' I figured that if I don't take it the first time, then I won't have to worry about the second or third time, and I won't be obligated to anyone." But he said close friends of his on the department told of their own involvement and "if you get too much money, then they come down on you." Verifying what other police said is the way shakedown money is handled according to a system based mainly on rank, the patrolman, a Negro, also said there is a form of racism in bribery. "The black bootleggers, the black numbers men, they know where the control is, they know they don't have to satisfy a black policeman, they have to satisfy a white policeman," he maintained. "If a black policeman comes up and wants too much money from him, he'll run and tell the white policeman and something will happen to the black policeman." "If the white guy was getting $20 a week, they'd get by with giving the black guy $5 a week. And he couldn't say anything

198 because he couldn't make or break the man anyway." The investigation indicated this was correct, with some exceptions, which will be detailed later. It was learned from police sources that police involvement with some vice places was not limited to "protection." One lieutenant did "remodeling" work at several Westside places, including providing a "raid-proof" door at one, while other police have done "handy" work for a bootlegger, a brothel and a known fencing establishment. A ranking policeman with a reputation as a "Mr. Clean" said such activities were considered merely part of a longtime pattern linking police to criminals, both professionally and socially. Also detailing personal instances of bribe offers, he said it got to the point where no one would approach him because of his reputation as an untouchable. Meantime, a detective who told of "wired" cases and criminal suspects being freed for money, said he was ostracized when he refused to go along with the "take" and got a reputation as a "hard case." Attempts to get help from within the department only solidified this reputation, he said. Street payoffs do not always go smoothly, it was learned, with one incident in particular, which happened two years ago, something of a legend now. It was verified by three sources. A patrolman on the near-Westside stopped in a bootleg joint, leaving his patrol car outside. The car number was for a sergeant, although this policeman was not a sergeant. When the policeman came outside later, he found in the car an envelope containing $500. He kept it. Later, the district sergeant who also stopped at the place regularly went to the joint and said, "Where's the stuff at?" He was told the money had been put in his car. "No, not my car, it's not there," the sergeant said. When the bootlegger said the car had a sergeant's identification number, the sergeant left and shortly figured out what had happened. "I understand they came to a compromise and split," said one police source.

199

FROM CHICAGO (ILLINOIS) IN 1975 BY GEORGE W. B L I S S / J A M E S A. BRANEGAN / WILLI AM B. CRAWFORD/ WILLIAM C, GAINES / CHARLES NEUBAUER / PAMELA ZEKMAN Chicago Tribune George

William

was the

Bliss

(born on July

21,

1918,

in Denver, Colo.)

19S2 Pulitzer Local Reporting Prize winner, so that his

biography can be found in that chapter. -

James

A.

Branegan

(born

on June 6, 1950, in Philadelphia, Pa.) obtained a B.A. degree in Physics and Philosophy from Cornell University in 1972 and received an M.A. degree in Journalism from Northwestern University in 1973. He worked as a general assignment reporter for Chicago Today since August, September,

1974.

1973, and he joined the Chicago Tribune in

- William

B.

Crawford

(born on June

2 2 , 1941

, in

Waukegan, 111.) earned a history degree at the University of Chicago in

1963, and worked

the Chicago Tribune in

in various positions before he joined

1972.

- William

C.

Gaines

(born on Novem-

ber 1, 1933, in Indianapolis, Ind.) attended Butler University, where he was graduated with a degree in radio broadcasting. He spent

15 months with the U.S. Army in Germany where he produced

programs for Armed Forces Radio in Kaiserslautern. After returning to the U.S. he worked

in radio and television stations as

well as for the Chicago Daily News before he joined the Chicago Tribune in

1963.

- Charles

Neubauer

(born on February

13,

1950,

in Elmhurst, 111.) earned a B.A. degree in Journalism at Northwestern University in 1972 and his master's degree the following year; he joined

the Chicago Tribune

in

1973.

-

Pamela

Zekman

(born on October 22, 1944, in Chicago, 111.) earned a B.A. degree from the University of California at Berkeley in 1965; she joined the Chicago Tribune in 1970. These six journalists, forming the Chicago Tribune Task Force team, received the 1976 Pulitzer Local Reporting award for articles published the previous year.

200 ROTTEN C I T I E S

RESULTING

FROM A F E D E R A L

HOUSING

PROGRAM

[Source: George Bliss/Chuck Neubauer: FHA wastes $4 billion and creates city slums. Thousands abandon, lose homes, in: Chicago Tribune (Chicago, 111.), 129th Year/No. 173, June 22, 1975, p. 1, cols. 2 - 6; p. 10, cols. 1 - 6; reprinted by permission of the Chicago Tribune, Chicago, 111.]

It is a hidden disaster, manmade but more destructive to America's cities and towns than any tornado, hurricane, or earthquake on record. In less than seven years it has cut a swath thru hundreds of communities the length and breadth of the nation, leaving $4 billion worth of housing destroyed in its wake. It is a burocratic machine set up in Washington to provide housing for the nation's poor that has instead run off course and mangled the homes and lives of thousands of families. Evidence of the destruction is easy to spot when you know where to look. You can see it, for example, in the 7300 block of South Hoyne Avenue, once a neat, quiet, middle-class Chicago neighborhood. In 1971, 14 families moved into new, brick, bilevel $24,000 homes on the block, purchased with federally insured mortgages in a program created by the 1968 National Housing Act for low and moderate-income families. Today the street looks like desolation row. Seven of the homes are now mostly four-sided shells. In some the roofs are gone, the floors are broken, the walls smashed. Front yards are cluttered with debris, back yards with the broken toys of children who have moved away. Families who have managed to stay on the block and families in the surrounding neighborhood are terrified of the smashed and abandoned houses. The gaping windows and splintered doors are an invitation to vandals who set fires late at night. "If one of the abandoned homes really gets going on fire, it will be goodby to the whole block," said John Bramwell, a disabled veteran who lives with his five children at 7329 S. Hoyne Av. The Bramwell home is sandwiched between two abandoned houses, both of which have had fires. "I put in a patio to make my house look nice," said Bramwell, who moved in almost four years ago. "It was a nice neighborhood when we moved in. Now it is beginning to look like a ghetto.

201 "I want to get out of here. The neighborhood is just getting too bad." The American taxpayers now own four of the houses, having paid more than $100,000 for the useless wreckage. They soon will own three more. The taxpayers are paying for the same sort of wrecks in dozens of other Chicago neighborhoods — black and white, middle-class and poor. Billions of taxpayers' dollars are buying wrecked homes in suburbs like Bolingbrook and Chicago Heights, in Downstate towns like Champaign and Granite City, and in cities and villages in New York, Michigan, Texas, California, and a dozen other states. The $4 billion hidden disaster has been the subject of a seven-month investigation of a team of Tribune reporters who set out to find what happened, how it happened, and who is to blame. Traveling thru Illinois, they recorded the waste of hundreds of millions of dollars in this state alone. Traveling to Washington, D.C., they found a burocratic monstrosity at the Department of Housing and Urban Development and the Federal Housing Administration, the agencies which authorized spending the wasted billions. The reporters examined thousands of secret government reports, files, and investigations telling who is profiting from burocratic bungling by HUD and FHA. "It is a national scandal," said James M. Alter, a wealthy Chicago businessman who, as chairman of the Governor's Commission on Mortgage Practices, has been fighting the programed waste and corruption. "Outside of Watergate and Viet Nam, there is no greater scandal than in FHA and HUD housing," he said. "The cities are rotting and nobody seems to be responsible. "Tens of thousands of people have been displaced, and we, the taxpayers, paid for it." Revelations by Tribune reporters also startled many housing and congressional experts previously unaware of the extent of the waste, fraud, and deception caused by the housing fiasco. The reporters found: • An entrenched coverup policy by the highest-ranking HUD and FHA officials in Washington, who refuse to talk about or reveal

202 records in which the scandal is hidden to newsmen, local FHA officials, and other government officials. • A policy of blocking HUD and FHA local officials who are attempting to curtail the waste and rid federal housing programs of dealings with corrupt mortgage companies and real estate operators. F H A destruction in the Chicago area c h a n g e s daily, but one thing is c o n s t a n t : billions ol dollars of housing has b e e n destroyed

FHA defaults in Chicago area w ^ M (As of May.2, 1975) . ι -Bound Lake Beach 45 .

j SijS^u—

^Mortti ChicagoiH

• CfytiaiUiti 10

CO.K Clrpeoiersv«J&65

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•Wwt ütegol? • ; OÄPafk 1t· CHICAGO 3,579g P»00tf1t*f ψί otr, Μίγ*οο064 ΐ Atitora 4$ Ol* LawnlO· Beflngbroot30·

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[ S o u r c e : Chicago Tribune, June 22, 1 9 7 5 , p .

10.]

203 • An unsettling relationship between mortgage companies that have made millions of dollars from the scandal and the highest HUD and FHA officials, several of whom were formerly executives of the profiteering mortgage companies. • That the federal government now owns 3,579 vacant and destroyed homes in the Chicago area at an average loss of $13,393 because of neglect by mortgage companies and the FHA. The loss totals more than $42 million. • That FHA's own predictions show that in the Chicago area alone another 5,000 to 7,000 similar homes will soon come into FHA possession. In the Chicago region FHA estimates that its accumulation and sales of homes represent a loss of hundreds of millions of dollars • Nationally the picture of waste and destruction is enormous. H. R. Crawford, assistant secretary of housing management in HUD, said that HUD now owns 74,000 single-family homes which cost the government $20 million a moöth just to maintain. • Another 127,000 single-family homeowners have defaulted on their FHA-insured mortgages and are in danger of foreclosure. Between 80 and 90 per cent of those 127,000 houses are expected to fall back into the government's hands, Crawford said. Good intentions led to programs in which scandal took root and grew. In 1968 Congress hurriedly passed the National Housing Act in response to unrest and rioting in major cities. The bill was designed to provide hundreds of thousands of homes at low cost and easy terms for low- and moderate-income families to relieve the tensions of the overcrowded cities. Under several programs set up by the act, families which normally would not have been able to afford homes could get private financing because the FHA insured their mortgages 100 per cent. If the family missed payments to the private mortgage companies, the companies foreclose the mortgage, and collect all that was owed them from the FHA. The system was attractive to mortgage companies, real estate operators, and the poor. It soon became apparent to many mortgage companies and real estate dealers that they could make more money faster by selling

204 homes to families that were not only poor but poor risks — unemployed persons who could afford only the first payments and were certain to default, for example. "People were getting loans who should not have been," said Leonard Giblin, vice president of the Chicago Mortgage Bankers Association and a severe critic of the scandal. "And FHA officials are not correcting the abuses." Once they foreclose for failing to meet payments, the mortgage companies collect full value for the homes after a year from FHA insurance rather than wait up to 30 years for the mortgages to mature. HUD and FHA records indicate that the foreclosure rate of Housing Act homes in Illinois has reached seven times the rate of foreclosure of homes purchased thru conventional loans. Homeowners, civic groups, and neighborhood organizations concerned about the scandal told Tribune reporters that some mortgage companies dealing with FHA-insured homes have systematically tried to vacate the homes. If a family misses more than one payment, the mortgage companies often start foreclosure action immediately, hoping the family will drop even farther behind, say the homeowners and community groups. "Mortgage lenders eager to maximize their profits are now fast foreclosing on their FHA loans to get the federal insurance money," said Gail Cincotta, a leader of the Metropolitan Housing Alliance. "The way the FHA-insured mortgage program works now, mortgage companies can make more profit by foreclosing." Once a house is abandoned the unscrupulous mortgage companies go thru a quick flurry of activity to squeeze as much money as they can from the home. When a mortgage company forecloses on an FHA-insured loan after one year, the annual profit can go as high as 14 per cent, against 6.7 per cent over the life of the loan. During the one year of the mortgage, plus the one year-3 month period generally required for foreclosure proceedings, a lender can make a profit of $5,263 on a loan of $18,500. The mortgage companies contract — or at least are supposed to —

with companies to board up the houses, winterize the plumbing,

205 and do anything else to protect them from damage and keep them attractive. But too often these protective services are never provided, or provided so inadequately that the homes are not protected. This doesn't prevent mortgage companies from collecting

$400 to $2,000

from the FHA for work that is never done. Tribune investigators discovered that hundreds of such bills were paid by the government, altho reporters and federal inspectors found that the work had not been performed, or even that the houses involved had long been destroyed, like those on South Hoyne Avenue. Many HUD and FHA career officials who repeatedly tried to have this situation corrected were rebuffed by their Washington superiors. Some agreed to tell The Tribune what they knew to protect their own reputations. One of the most outspoken critics of the situation within the government is John Waner, a former candidate for Chicago mayor who is now a district director of HUD and FHA. Last Oct. 21 he demanded action from the HUD-FHA inspector general. In a letter Waner said he'd ordered his staff to investigate mortgage companies which were paid for unperformed protective work on vacant houses. He collected photographs and records of damaged and destroyed homes on which the protective-service payments had been made. "I confronted a group of mortgage bankers with our findings and asked them if they indeed received payment from the government for cleaning and maintaining these buildings," Waner wrote to the inspector general. "Without exception they all said they had." Waner forwarded three cartons of evidence, including hundreds of pictures, to the inspector general's office for a more thoro investigation. He failed to get a response, he said. He then had staff members contact Washington and request copies of protective service payments to mortgage companies for additional proof of criminal fraud against the companies. The requests were denied. Waner's attempt to end the waste was only one of several he has made, and one of hundreds by HUD-FHA officials.

206 Field workers have repeatedly sought a change in the procedure in which Washington pays mortgage companies for foreclosed houses without inspections to see whether the houses have been damaged or destroyed. William M. Miller, director of the housing management division of HUD in Chicago, has campaigned to get Washington to let his men see the houses before payments are made; so far he has failed. Earlier this year Daniel F. Martini, an attorney in the General Counsel's office in Washington, wrote Miller's office ruling against its request to inspect and certify houses before authorizing payment of claims. Crawford, his boss in Washington, admits HUD and FHA have been lax in monitoring the mortgage companies, but said HUD never expected so many abandoned homes. "We were not ready to take back houses," he told The Tribune. "We never thought we'd have this many, but we do check homes eventually." However, Waner said HUD and FHA don't usually "check" Chicago homes until they have been destroyed and the mortgage companies have collected their money. "This system is like closing the barn door after the horse gets away," he said. Fred Pfaender, HUD director of loan management in Washington, insisted his agency has only a limited staff and can't possibly look at every foreclosed home in the nation. HUD's job is to make loans, not police the mortgage companies, he said. "It is a matter of priorities as to what we should look at," Pfaender said. "We are not equipped for policing." So the hidden disaster continues to churn across neighborhoods thruout the nation, and the government continues to buy up the damaged and destroyed houses left in its wake. Shady real estate operators working with mortgage companies continue to reap millions of tax dollars with the quick turnover of property that rots the neighborhoods it was supposed to save. And evicted homeowners are left with broken dreams, destroyed credit records, and anger toward a system that used them.

207

FROM WAYMART (PENNSYLVANIA) IN 1976 BY

ACEL MOORE/WENDELL L. RAWLS JR. The Philadelphia

Acel Moore

Inquirer

(born on October 10, 1940, in Philadelphia, Pa.) join-

ed the Philadelphia

Inquirer

in 1968 and covered virtually every

sort of major event in the Delaware Valley. His writings on Philadelphia's gang problems and of the black community at large have brought Bar

to

him several awards, including the

Association

Scales

of

Justice

Award,

1970

and

Pennsylvania

the

1971 Public

Service Award of the Sigma Delta Chi Philadelphia Chapter. Moore also was active as a co-producer of Black Perspective a nationally syndicated news program in more than the Public Broadcasting Service. - Wendell August 18,

1941,

in Good Lettsville,

the Baylor School began

his

Tennessean,

on

Chattanooga

and

on the News, 140 cities by

L. Rawls Jr.

Tenn.)

(born on

was graduated from

Vanderbilt University. He

newspaper career as a sports writer for the

Nashville

later becoming a news reporter. Rawls joined the staff

of the Philadelphia

Inquirer

in 197 2 and headed bureaus in Trenton

and Pittsburgh. He won a special citation in the Thomas L. Stokes competition and an award in the Pennsylvania Keystone Press Contest. Acel Moore

and

Wendell

L.

Rawls became the co-winners of

the 1 977 Pulitzer Local Reporting Award for their work done during the year before.

208 UNNATURAL

CAUSES

OF

DEATH

AT

A

PSYCHIATRIC

HOSPITAL

[source: Acel Moore/Wendell Rawls Jr.: Where the state treats patients with drugs, brutality and death, in: The Philadelphia Inquirer (Philadelphia, Pa.), Vol. 294/No. 179, June 27, 1976, p. 1, cols. 1 - 4; p. 12, cols. 1 6; p. 13, cols. 1 - 3 ; reprinted by permission of the Philadelphia Inquirer, Philadelphia, Pa.]

Waymart, Pa. — Farview State Hospital, in the rolling wooded countryside north of the Poconos, looks almost like what it was once intended to be — a benign circle of three-story brick buildings where the mentally ill who have committed crimes are treated and, if possible, cured. A passerby driving through this anthracite region could almost mistake it for a small college or a resort hotel or a monastery. It is none of those things. Over and over, those who have been patients at Farview and who have been lucky enough to get out describe it as a living hell on earth. And there is a wealth of evidence from others — guards, administrators, scholars and even government investigators whose findings have been suppressed — that the description is chillingly accurate. A three-month investigation by The Inquirer has revealed that: Farview State Hospital is a place where men have died during or after beatings by guards and by patients egged on by guards. It is a place where men who have died this way have been certified as victims of heart attacks. It is a place where men have been pummeled bloody and senseless — for sport. It is a place where an unwritten code requires all the guards present to hit a patient if one guard hits him. It is a place where patients have been forced to commit sodomy with guards and other patients. It is a place where men have been forced to live naked for years on end, sometimes handcuffed on icy floors. It is a place where guards have sponsored patients in human cockfights and bet on the outcome. It is a place where there is virtually no treatment aside from the use of mood-altering drugs, some of which other institutions abandoned a decade ago.

209 It is a psychiatric hospital without a board-certified psychiatrist. It is a place where a man under a 30-day sentence for disorderly conduct can wait 30 years for his freedom. It is a place where decades — 26 years, in one case — can elapse between the time a patient is admitted and the time he gets a psychiatric evaluation. It is a place where men have been denied such basic amenities as toilet paper. It is a place where staff members and patients alike must live in a system based on hustles, extortion and theft. These are some of the findings of The Inquirer's investigation — an investigation prompted by the complaint of an embittered former patient and based on scores of interviews and on the study of numerous documents previously not made public. Those interviewed include former and present guards, administrators and state officials, as well as patients who have been freed or transferred to prison. The main findings — homicide, coverup, neglect, corruption, brutality, sodomy — form a pattern that spans the last three decades and possibly longer. The current administration at Farview, interviewed last week, says it is trying and succeeding in stamping out many past abuses. But the pattern of crime and neglect at Farview has easily survived all past attempts at reform, and two high-level staff members interviewed in recent days say that any new attempts at reform have yet to penetrate the guard structure that runs the hospital. State law-enforcement authorities have long known about the abuses at Farview. Their files include strong evidence of crimes, including murder, and yet nothing has been done. The files also include admissions from investigators that their work was superficial in crucial ways. In November 1974, State Attorney General Israel Packel ordered an investigation of "allegations of threats, beatings, illegal contraband and deaths at the institution" at the request of Helene Wohlgemuth, then secretary of the Department of Public Welfare. Most of the investigating was done by the Bureau of Investigations, but the State Police also conducted inquiries about deaths at Farview.

210 By the time the results came in, Packel was no longer attorney general. On April 16, 1975, his successor, Robert P. Kane, wrote his conclusions on the matter to Frank S. Beal, then the secretary of public welfare. He said, "... there have been a multitude of occasions where staff has used force against patients," but concluded that such force had not been "excessive or unlawful." "There is no evidence supporting allegations of criminal violations at the hospital," Kane said, but he did conclude that "there are serious problems caused by patients' possession of money and other contraband ... and that there has been a lack of administrative resolution of these problems ..." How was that conclusion reached? By listening to guards and ignoring patients, according to an accompanying letter by Cecil H. Yates, director of the Bureau of Investigations. Yates cited two predicaments that, he said, made his department's investigation "superficial." One problem, he said, was that the credibility of patients certified as both criminal and insane "must be viewed as questionable." However, Robert Hammel, current acting superintendent at Farview, says that fully 30 percent of the 453 patients at the hospital have never been convicted of a crime. And the records at Farview are filled with accounts of patients who were admitted not because they were "insane," but because they were troublemakers elsewhere or, in some instances, because a court somewhere simply made a bureaucratic error. Yates also noted that his investigators had perused the medical records of guards injured by patients, but not those of patients who claimed to have been injured by guards. To do the latter, he said, would be "legally questionable." Thus it was, he said, that "no attempt was made... to thoroughly analyze the problem" or to recommend "corrective actions." The narrower, simultaneous State Police investigation into three deaths did turn up strong evidence of murder in one case — the death of Robert (Stonewall) Jackson in 1966. In two other cases there was conflicting evidence. In yet another three cases not involved in the investigation, questionable circumstances surround the deaths. In none of the cases were charges lodged or reforms proposed. To moviegoers who saw "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," the

211

circumstances under which "Stonewall" Jackson died at age 3 6 may have a familiar ring. But Jackson died, and law-enforcement officials were told how, long before the film was made. It is a death that illustrates a pattern described by many former Farview patients — beatings, murder, incorrect records at the hospital and indifference from legal authorities. Jackson's mother, Mrs. Alma Jackson of Southwest Philadelphia, says she visited him at Farview about three months before his death on Sept. 24, 1966. Stonewall, she told The Inquirer, had acquired the nickname because of his formidable size and strength, and but when she saw him at Farview his body was weak and twisted. "He walked with a stick," she recalled. "He was all bent over. He told me that they were going to kill him, that he didn't have long to live." She said she asked a doctor why her son was being mistreated. "He told me that my son wouldn't talk. He said that he was stubborn and that 'we are going to break him.'" According to William Ash, 57, who spent 22 years at Farview and now lives in Philadelphia, Jackson quarreled with guards on "D" Ward one evening on or about Sept. 21, 1966. It was near midnight, Ash says, when the guards "dragged" Jackson out. Jackson ended up in a medical ward. A patient there, William James Wright, who is currently in prison at Dallas, Pa., awaiting sentencing for murder, was interviewed by State Police investigators 18 months ago. "As a patient, I witnessed Robert Jackson beaten," he related. "He was cuffed by his hands and legs to a bed with leather restraints. "It was late in the evening sometime between 10 p.m. and 6 a.m Jackson was making a lot of noises. He was disturbed. The guard told a patient to stop Jackson from making noises. "The patient then went out of the office and struck Jackson in the throat with the back edge of his right hand. He struck him only once and Jackson started to gag and about 20 minutes later he died." Another former patient, William Franklin Sipes, 30, of Philadelphia, told the State Police he also saw a male nurse strike Jackson in the throat after Jackson knocked a tray off his bed with his knee, spilling some of the food on the nurse.

212 "As soon as I seen what was going on, I got away," Sipes said. "I was worried about what could happen." Another inmate, Clayton Allen Terhune, told the investigation that he witnessed Jackson's final moments. "Jackson's arms and legs were cuffed," he said. "He was restrained to a bed ..." "This is how it happened. The inmate working in the ward placed a pillow against Jackson's face while he was cuffed to the bed. The pillow was held against his face for a long time. In fact, the patient got on top of Jackson and put his weight on the pillow against (Jackson's) face. During this time the nurse was standing beside the bed. He was watching and did nothing about it." The hospital's official paperwork on the death mentions none of this. The cause of death entered on the death certificate by Dr. Joseph D. Moylan, a staff physician who is now dead, was acute coronary occlusion with myocardial infarction — a heart attack. No autopsy was performed, and the body was embaimed by a guard who is also a registered mortician. Jackson's mother recalls the condition of the body when she received it. "His neck was crooked," she said, "his arm looked bent out of shape." A year ago, Dr. Haibert E. Fillinger Jr., assistant Philadelphia Medical Examiner, concluded in a letter that was part of the State Police report: "The police investigation involving the circumstances surrounding this man's death as substantiated by several witnesses would certainly cast doubt on this diagnosis (death by heart failure). As a matter of fact, the information supplied to the police by several witnesses would strongly suggest that this man's death is of a highly suspicious nature. "There are certainly several allegations that the deceased may well have been suffocated with a pillow and that the cause of death given on the death certificate is a totally erroneous one. "If the allegations of these several witnesses interviewed by the State Police have any basis in fact, the only conclusion one can draw is that a felonious death had occurred and a thorough investigation must be conducted to pinpoint the person responsible for this man's death and see that he is brought to justice."

213 No charges have been filed in the death and no evidence has been presented to a grand jury, as far as The Inquirer can determine. Several years after Jackson's death the male nurse was fired for allegedly smuggling a pistol to an inmate. Since The Inquirer began looking into Jackson's death, however, the State Police have shown a renewed interest. Mrs. Jackson said she was called last week. "They asked me questions about his death," she said. "I tried so hard to get someone to listen to me back in 1966. No one would help us. I knew that whoever killed him would never have any rest, never have any peace." The death of Calvin Bush on Oct. 11, 1973, may or may not have been murder. In either case, it says a great deal about what passes for medical care at Farview. Bush, 32, died of a heart attack. At the time of death he was being subdued by eight guards, one of whom weighed nearly 200 pounds and was sitting on his chest. The incident apparently began shortly after breakfast that day when Bush returned to the minimum-security ward where he had been living for about a year. A guard, who later testified before State Police investigators, said that Bush threatened to kill him, called him a "goddam white man" and then threatened to knock his "block" off. The guard said that Bush had frequently been abusive, but that this time it was decided to transfer him to either the "N" or "D" wards, which the guard characterized as "a little rougher than the ones I have

(worked on)."

But Bush refused, saying that he wasn't "going no place," the guard recounted. Bush then picked up a chair but was persuaded to put it down. When he walked out of the day room, eight guards dragged him to the floor and began fastening his arms in a leather restraining device. While the guard, who estimated to State Police that he weighed 197 pounds at the time, sat on Bush's chest, a doctor ordered a 100-milligram injection of Sparine, a tranquilizer, to calm Bush down. But Bush died first. That, however did not prevent the guards from rolling him over and pulling his trousers down to allow a male nurse to administer the injection.

214 An autopsy by Marvin E. Aronson, Philadelphia's medical examiner, disclosed that the dose of Sparine was indeed given but remained concentrated in the left buttock near the point of injection. It was never circulated because Bush's heart was no longer beating. The official cause of death was "cardiac arrythmia due to hypertension aggravated by excitement." Coroner Robert Jennings of Wayne County told The Inquirer: "I know he died of a heart attack, but I also feel that such things are brought about by unusual stress and that struggling with and being restrained by eight men, some sitting on his chest, could cause enough anger and stress." The indiscriminate use of drugs was also manifest in the death of John Rank, 68. Last March 2, Rank was given a ham sandwich by a guard. In quick succession, according to a post-mortem report, Rank "developed bizarre agitated behavior, jumped up from where he was sitting, ran head lowered, smashed into a wall and fell to the floor." He was soon dead. An autopsy disclosed that Rank apparently had choked to death on a part of the ham sandwich — an unremarkable fact, except for the fact that he had earlier been heavily sedated with a drug that inhibits swallowing. When John Rank died, there was no nurse on his floor and no doctor in the hospital. Dr. Bernard J. Willis, the hospital's assistant superintendent and clinical director, told The Inquirer: "The doctors got tired of being here all the time." When a nurse from another floor arrived, she tried to give aid, then telephoned Dr. Willis at home. According to a preliminary investigation by Coroner Jennings, Dr. Willis ordered the body removed to the hospital morgue and placed on a table. The body remained on the table for 14 hours and was never placed in refrigeration. Eventually it was picked up by the coroner's office and an autopsy was performed. By the end of last month —

three months after his death —

John Rank had yet to be officially pronounced dead by any official associated with Farview State Hospital, according to the coroner.

215 A toxicological report on the thin, pale elderly man was performed by National Medical Services Inc. of Willow Grove, Pa. Dr. Richard D. Cohn disclosed these findings: "The level of chlorpromazine (Thorazine) detected in this individual's blood is more than double the usual maximum therapeutic level. It is reasonably certain that at the level of (Thorazine) found to be present in the blood, pronounced central nervous system depression was obtained and that coordinated and reflex actions were significantly impaired. "The blood level (of Thorazine) found is not inconsistent with an acutely toxic (Thorazine) concentration which in the absence of similar or more competent causes, could be competent, independent causes of death." Thomas L. Garrett, 37, died at Farview on March 19, 1960, according to hospital records. The cause of death, again according to hospital records, was a sudden and unexpected pulmonary embolism which Garrett suffered after spending 17 days in the medical ward with a fever. What killed Garrett, however, according to patients who say they witnessed it, was a sustained beating by guards that took place in a Farview dining room in February of that year.

Oh. my God ... Here comes my therapist.' [Source: The Philadelphia

Inquirer,

June 29, 1976, p. A 6.]

216 Hospital records say that Garrett was confined to the maximumsecurity ward in February after "attacking guards," and was transferred to the medical ward on March 2 after he came down with a fever. Hospital records, however, are contradictory on the subject, and an autopsy said to confirm the cause of death cannot be found. Ward notes for the day in question say that an autopsy was performed by Dr. Harry Probst of nearby Wayne County Memorial Hospital. Dr. Willis, clinical director at Farview, also told State Police who investigated the incident in 1975 that Dr. Probst performed the autopsy determining the cause of death. Dr. Probst, however, told police that he could not recall any such autopsy. The director of nursing at Farview told State Police that he was present, along with a lab technician and a guard, when Dr. John Perridge, at the time Wayne County coroner, performed the autopsy confirming the cause of Garrett's death. He said that copies of the autopsy report went to the county coroner, to the Department of Public Welfare, to two undertakers and to Farview itself. However, Dr. Perridge told police that his records indicated that he had never performed any such autopsy, and all of the supposed recipients of the autopsy report told police that they had never received it. Dr. Willis, who signed the certificate of death attributing Garrett's death to a pulmonary embolism, told State Police on Jan. 21, 1975, that he could remember nothing of the incident. Twenty-three days later, his memory had greatly improved. He told State Police that he remembered the incident "very well" and said that Garrett had appeared to be responding well to treatment for fever when, suddenly, he died. Patients who were there remember it differently. They say that they believe Thomas Garrett died because he was brutally beaten by guards. They told State Police hat one day in February 1960, Garrett asked a guard for a job in a dining hall and was refused. Then, they said, Garrett slapped the guard, whereupon a number of guards attacked him and beat him. Heyward Speaks, a Farview inmate at the time, who currently is an inmate at the State Correctional Institution at Graterford, Pa., told The

217 Inquirer that he witnessed the incident. "All the guards around kicked and stomped Garrett," he said. "They stomped and kicked him in the side of the head. Broke him up real good. Then they put him on "J" ward (Farview's maximum-security ward). "I was one of the last to see him alive. I went on the ward to shave and cut the inmates' hair. When I went into Garrett's cell, I saw he was busted up. His jaw was broken. He was semiconscious. He was trying to say something, but he couldn't open his mouth. His ribs were busted up as well. I told the guards that I couldn't shave this man „.. Ten days to two weeks after that, Garrett died. We were told that he died." The Inquirer is not the only party to whom Speaks has told his story. In 1969, he wrote to the State Department of Public Welfare detailing the Garrett incident. The department handled the matter promptly. It mailed Speaks' letter back to Farview — namely to Dr. John Shovlin, the superintendent at the time. Later, Speaks said, he wrote to the state attorney general on the same subject. That letter, too, was referred back to Dr. Shovlin. State Police did look into the Garrett incident in their 1975 investigation after another patient told them that he had heard the story of Garrett's death from many inmates. Nothing came of the investigation. Russell Sell was 46 when he died at Farview on Jan. 7, 1963. The cause of death was recorded as acute coronary occlusion. On the death notice, Dr. Willis wrote that the body had no wounds, no fractures and no dislocations. However, an autopsy one day later by the Wayne County coroner reported that Sell in fact had three broken ribs. And 11 years later, Clayton Allen Terhune, a fellow inmate, testified to Pennsylvania State Police investigating the incident that Sell actually died of a severe beating administered by guards six days earlier in a hospital dining room. Terhune said that Sell was beaten after he waved in the air a newspaper clipping reporting that Farview had purchased a large order of beef and complained that patients received little meat because the guards were stealing most of it. Guards told State Police investigators that there was in fact a dining room fracas six days before Sell's supposed heart attack, and that he probably broke his ribs falling against a steam table.

218 The hospital ward notes of Jan. 7 tried to take a middle path. They noted that Sell "died this date following injuries received while being subdued during a disturbed period during a work assignment in K-3 dining room. Contributing cause of death: acute coronary occlusion." Consider, lastly, the way Farview cared for Alfred E. Miller, 61, an epileptic who died of natural causes this year, a week before Rank. Miller's name came up about 18 months ago in an investigation by the State Department of Justice. John M. Fitzgerald, director of social services at Fairview, told investigators that another patient had informed him about repeated mistreatment of Miller by guards. Miller was known as "Jughead." According to the testimony, the guards on the second shift in his ward "would get Jughead to strip and they would taunt him verbally until he would scream and carry on. The guards did this as amusement." "Jughead" died in bed during a seizure. According to Coroner Jennings, this is how Farview handled his death: "Mr. Miller's death was reported to me by Dr. Hobart Owens, who was scheduled to have been the officer of the day and should have been on duty. But instead he called me from his home in Hawley, Pa., approximately 20 miles from the institution. "Dr. Owens reported Mr. Miller's death to my office without examining him or determining that he was, in fact, deceased." "Being the doctor on duty does not require my being at the hospital," Dr. Owens said in a telephone interview with The Inquirer. "Sure, lam supposed to check the body before he is pronounced dead, but when they (the hospital) called me he was already dead. "How did I know he was dead? A nurse told me he was dead. A nurse pronounced him dead. But it's true, I am supposed to check the body." The patient's plight is one side of the story, the guards say. The other is the attacks on guards, and indeed there is ample evidence of guards being injured. One guard was shot and paralyzed from the waist down by a former inmate who returned seeking one of the doctors. Another guard was bitten by an inmate and lost part of a finger. There are many other instances.

219 It is a fact that some of the patients at Farview are among the most vicious criminals Pennsylvania has ever produced. And it is also a fact that nearly half of them are blacks from the ghetto streets of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh, while the guards who deal with them are, almost without exception, whites from the rural area around Waymart. Those facts and others have led several officials who have studied Farview to recommend, in private reports, that the facility be closed down altogether. But every time the suggestion has even been hinted at, both the guards' union and much of the local populace, who consider Farview a main industry, have objected. Consequently, Farview continues — although it does shrink. Its current inmate population of 354 is down from a peak of 1,410 in 1962, largely because of court rulings on mental patient's rights. Even given those cases, however, Farview still harbors a surprising number of inmates with no evident criminal record and some with no documented classification of mental instability. Farview officials say that as many as 100 inmates have never been convicted of a crime but are men who have proved difficult to control at other mental hospitals. And about 10 inmates have been committed voluntarily, either by themselves or their families. The officials also say, as noted earlier, that they are doing their best to stamp out the worst abuses of the past, and they assert that what goes on at Farview today bears no resemblance to what went on earlier. It is impossible to either confirm or altogether call into question that assertion, for news of conditions, abuse and even violent deaths seeps out of Farview slowly, carried by the handful of patients released each year who are brave enough and lucid enough to talk. The Inquirer, in its investigation, has been told of murders alleged to have taken place in 1946, 1950,1954, 1958, 1960, 1962, 1963, 1 967, 1 968 and 1 972. What goes on at Farview today cannot be accurately assessed until possibly a year or more from now. According to the patients violent deaths tend to happen in the same basic way. The victim, sometimes baited, gets into a fight with a guard or another patient. The guards respond by forcibly subduing the patient. A short time later the patient is pronounced dead. Usually the cause is listed as a heart attack.

220 But this is only what former patients say, and, as noted by Cecil Yates, Farview alumni have had a hard time persuading

those

in positions of authority to take them seriously. The very fact that they have been at Farview means that, whether they are or not, at one time they were branded as both criminal and insane. That is one problem in plumbing the depths of the Farview swamp. Another is the shoddiness of the records. Many records were lost, officials say, when a basement at the hospital flooded in 1968. Some former officials add that the surviving records are not to be believed. And indeed in some cases, such as that of "Stonewall"Jackson's

supposed heart attack, there

is every reason to suspect that the records are misleading. But there can be no question that inmates at Farview are, and have been, treated with extraordinary brutality, of which the recurring deaths are only a symptom. In 1975, Joseph Jacoby, a criminologist working on a study sponsored by the National Institute of Mental Health, gave a committee of the State Legislature a strong indication of the widespread

cruelty.

He and his fellow researchers interviewed 269 former Farview patients who had been released or transferred to other mental institutions between 1 969 and 1 971 as a result of a federal court suit. The patients were asked what they liked most and least about Farview and its staff. With no prompting at all, Jacoby reported, 45 percent of those who gave "recordable responses" cited brutality at Farview. In contrast, less than 2 percent cited brutality in the hospitals or prisons to which they had been

transferred.

Here are some of the responses, each from a different

former

Farview patient: "The guards would knock you down and kick you if you talked." "The way they beat them and kill them - I seen it done." "They once beat up a guy so bad his mother couldn't recognize him. They said a patient beat him up." "Beatings and stompings of the patients." "Beatings they gave to the men. They beat me up about once a month or so." "It's a butcher house —

house of no return."

"Too brutal and cruel to you at Farview. They don't beat you here

(the patient's current hospital)."

221 "At my present hospital they have good guards who don't resort to brutality. At Farview, your life is in danger from the minute you enter to the minute you leave." "The guards and attendants beat me up and didn't treat me like a human being." "Sadistic guards terrorizing and beating up on patients." "Beating guys for no reason. My friend was beaten, had his jaw broken, and was robbed. My face was busted. I been beaten up on every ward I been on." And so on. Jacoby said that the percentage of those citing brutality might have been even higher had not some patients still been in fear of their former guards. "We have reason to believe," Jacoby said, "that a number of subjects refused to answer questions about Farview candidly because they feared retaliation if they complained about conditions and their indentity were discovered. One patient confided, 'They, the guards, used to tell us we'd better not talk about Farview or else. But I ain't afraid.' This fear could have been a real factor in the way some patients fashioned their replies ..." Another view of the violence was given to The Inquirer by John Naughton, who retired as a guard and secretary of the guards' union in December 1974 after eight years at Farview. Naughton, now the assistant manager of a restaurant in Scranton, confirms the claim of former patients that the guards had a code that compelled them to join in on the beating of inmates. He said that there "absolutely was a code, an unwritten but well understood rule among the guards, that when a guard hit a patient you had to jump in. If you didn't, you were pulled off that ward immediately. You were branded as a coward, or just branded, period. "I've seen the guards come to work and start out the shift picking on a patient and put him in the 'peanut' (a tiny room) for punishment — all for no reason, except that the guard could do it. "There are guards there that just like to kick and stomp patients. I've seen them kick and stomp patients. There were people there that I just would not work with, because I knew I would spend all night pulling them off the patients."

222 Those who were kicked and stomped undoubtedly have even more vivid recollections. Rayford Smith, who was a Farview patient from 1959 to 1964 and is now a prisoner at Graterford, told The Inquirer that he was kicked so hard in the genitals "that they ruptured my scrotum and I urinated blood for three months after the beating." "They kicked me so hard in the stomach that I actually had a bowel movement right there. My intestines hurt for five years after that .. . . " Arthur Pitts, 49, served two terms at Farview, one from 1963 to 1964 and the other from 1966 to 1968, and is now at Western State Correctional Institution in Pittsburgh. During his second stay he attempted to escape but was caught hiding in a recreation area. "The guards beat me and kicked me and stomped me," he said in an interview. "Then they stomped and jumped on my shin bones until they broke both of them. They kicked me in the face and kicked one tooth out." Heyward Speaks, 55, a convicted rapist currently serving a sentence at Graterford, says he learned an important lesson in the first hour of his first term in Farview in 1956. "The first night I got to Farview from Eastern State Penitentiary I was met by a guard who told me I had to take a shower first," Speaks recalls. "There was only one nozzle in the shower stall. I turned it on and the water was ice cold. I started to step out and complain but I could see from out the side of my eyes that about seven guards were coming towards me into the stall. "I sensed that I had better not complain. I held my breath and stayed under the shower until I got used to the cold water. Then I was given a nightshirt and told to sit on the bench outside the shower stall." "I watched from the bench what happened to the next inmate, a white man who came up in the same car as me. The man turned on the water and it was cold. He jumped out and complained. They beat and stomped and kicked ... him." "When they finished beating him, his naked body looked like a piece of raw meat. I knew then I wasn't going to give anybody any trouble here."

223

FROM STAMFORD (CONNECTICUT) IN 1977 BY

ANTHONY R. DOLAN The Advocate,

Anthony R o s s i

Dolan

(born

on

Stamford

July

7,

1948,

in

Norwalk, Conn.)

grew up in Fairfield, C o n n . , w h e r e he attended H i g h School. A f t e r graduation he studied at Yale University and became graduated in 1970. During

his

experiences as News.

a

years

at

columnist

Yale, D o l a n had his early and

board m e m b e r

of

journalism

the Yale

It also was while D o l a n was at Y a l e that he m e t

Daily

syndicated

columnist W i l l i a m F. Buckley who got him interested in newswriting as

a

career. B u t Dolan also got in c o n t a c t w i t h p o l i t i c s early:

during his time as an U.S. Army Reserves from 1970-1976, he w o r k e d as a press consultant for U.S. Senate and gubernatorial 1970-1973.

campaigns,

In A p r i l , 1 9 7 4 , D o l a n joined the staff of the

Advocate

in Stamford, Conn., as an investigative reporter. From his early days on at the Advocate, real experience of discovery of

a

he w o r k e d to expose corruption. His first

uncovering

wrongdoing came in

rigged civil service

exam.

'street talk' to become so vicious that suggested that

he

write w i t h o u t

a

a

1975

w i t h the

O t h e r stories caused local police official

byline. D o l a n ' s

achievements

were not accomplished without threats to his personal safety and inaction o n the part of state and federal authorities. A f t e r r e ceiving the 1976 National Headliners A w a r d , D o l a n i n 1978 became the winner of the Pulitzer Prize for L o c a l Reporting for h i s investigative reporting during the past year.

224 GRAFTS FOR CITY POLICE TO PROTECT GAMBLING SYNDICATES

[Source: Anthony R. Dolan: Shady side to local cops. Bribes, guns, mobsters tainted police, in: The Advocate (Stamford, Conn.), 149th year/No. 214, December 17, 1977, p. A 1, cols. 1 - 3; p. A 7, cols. 1 - 3; reprinted by permission of the Advocate, Stamford, Conn.]

Stamford policemen have in recent years covered up illegal narcotics and gambling operations, engaged in suspected gun-running to Northern Ireland and developed close relationships with organized crime figures, an Advocate investigation shows. On one occasion, the personal intervention of a major New York mafiosa led to larger bribes for a local police commander who was protecting gambling operations, the probe also shows. Five months of interviews with law enforcement and underworld sources provide a close look at various threads of corruption woven through the Stamford Police Department in the late '60s and mid-'70s. In addition to major new evidence of illegal activity by police officers as well as the involvement of the high level mafia figure, the interviews reveal the problems and long range consequences of internal police corruption, even if confined at first to a few officers. Although corruption in the department was initially exposed by an earlier Advocate investigation that led this spring to an FBI probe and strong demands for a reform police chief, a more detailed look at that corruption now emerges from the recent interviews. The new evidence, which has been conveyed to the federal authorities and is considered crucial to their current investigation, includes: — Local racketeers tied to organized crime grew incensed in early 1975 over demands for larger bribes from a department commander who was protecting their $15 to $25 million gambling operation here. On April 18, 1975 at 63 Diaz St., the racketeers organized a major underworld conference or "sit down" reportedly presided over by a major New York mobster who discussed with the racketeers the possible "hit" or assassination of the police officer. It was later agreed, however, to make the increased

225 payments to the police commander, who is believed to have been receiving as much as $1,500 a week. — That same evening, in the vicinity of the meeting place, local police halted a chauffeur-driven car carrying John Angelone of 1922 Lurting Ave., Bronx, N.Y. The car was stopped by several officers acting on a tip that Angelone was in Stamford for a conference with local racketeers. Angelone is described by state and federal authorities as the number two or three "capo" or crime captain in the Gambino crime family and a possible successor to Carmine Galente as New York's major underworld boss. Angelone has a record of eight arrests dating from 1932 on gambling, bribery and narcotics charges. He served two terms in Sing Sing for federal narcotics offenses. He was recently indicted during a major investigation by the New York Special Prosecutor's Office on charges of bribery, conspiracy and gambling. — Illegal sales of firearms including at least one fully automatic M-16 were suspected to be going on among several policemen, according to leads developed by a 1975 federal and State Police investigation. According to an Advocate source in the Police Department, a Stamford policeman was deeply involved in gun-running to Northern Ireland. The source said that policemen have seen crates of rifles in the home of the officer, who bragged about his involvement in the gun shipments. It was also learned that a Stamford policeman who has traveled frequently to Ireland and is believed closely tied to the revolutionary faction of the IRA has been called to testify before a federal grand jury in Manhattan investigating illegal gun-running. It was learned that a 9mm weapon that the police officer reported stolen, soon after he bought the gun from another local policeman, was later found in the hands of IRA revolutionaries in Northern Ireland. — Officers who were part of a special narcotics squad during the early 70s when a Stamford police sergeant was running a major drug ring here were offered substantial sums of money if they would cooperate in narcotics cover-ups. These officers refused and were soon transferred out of the unit and back to the uniformed division. A report on a 1971 State Police investi-

226 gation into the drug ring also suggested that

"high-ranking

officers" in the department were involved in the cover-ups. —

Illegal gambling grew so accepted in the department during

the early and mid-70s that one high-ranking official routinely dispatched a detective to place sports and numbers bets at a restaurant on Bedford St., another department commander bragged openly about a $10,000 "score" made on illegal numbers at a Cove Rd. bar and a police sergeant — until late this spring —

regularly

made numbers deliveries to a retail store on Atlantic St., a few doors from The Advocate building. Several officers also talked openly of their heavy betting on sports and numbers action and indebtedness to local gamblers. — At least six officers were implicated in gambling activity during a 1972 State Police investigation that led to the arrest of one Stamford policeman. Although state law enforcement sources said the evidence was not enough to sustain criminal charges, these sources said department leaders still had grounds for administrative hearings but failed to take the action. A 1976 investigation by the State Organized Crime Task Force that led to the arrests of 16 gamblers here also developed evidence that implicated a Stamford policeman in running illegal card games for considerable sums of money. — Evidence that the department failed to investigate criminal acts including burglaries, loan sharking and the fencing of stolen goods by police were uncovered during a 1975 State Police investigation. The State Police noted that the Stamford Police Department had refused to take action on the charges, according to state law enforcement sources close to the investigation. The starting point for corruption in the Stamford Police Department like most departments with similar problems, was payoffs from racketeers seeking protection for their lucrative narcotics and gambling businesses. The "protection" payoffs soon led to direct involvement — the same police detective who began by covering up narcotics arrests was soon running a drug ring and the same department commander who was receiving an estimated $1,400 a week for protecting gambling here was actively recruiting owners of retail outlets for illegal gambling operations. These payoffs along with political interfence by appointed police commissioners who frequently controlled assignments and

227 promotions within the department led to a sharply declining morale as well as administrative problems such as absenteeism, excessive moonlighting and a deepening gulf between policemen and the public —

a gulf best illustrated, several police sources noted, by the

soaring number of brutality complaints against individual police officers in recent years. The corruption made its first breakthrough in 1968 when a meeting was held between a recketeer here with ties to New York 1 s Gambino crime family and his cousin, a high official in the administration of a former mayor. It was decided at the meeting, as one source put it, "to have the police lay off gambling arrests." Recently retired Capt. Rodney Varney, at the time a lieutenant in charge of the gambling squad, has informed department authorities that one underworld figure told him, soon after the City Hall meeting, "You're all through." At approximately the same time, the same police commander, who would later be the subject of the 1975 "sit down," began accepting bribes from the underworld to insure protection for local gambling syndicates. Although this commander's name as well as those of other policemen suspected of dishonesty is known to The Advocate, their names are not used here because they have not yet been charged with a crime. When Varney's squad was briefy revitalized in the early 70's, one local gambling syndicate managed to place a policeman in the squad who leaked information about pending police raids on gambling outlets, according to sources close to the gambling squad at the time. It was only after this patrolman was transferred back to the uniformed division that the gambling syndicate stopped receiving tip-offs on police raids and search warrants, these sources said. In 1971, the same local racketeer who is tied to the Gambino organization and previously used his influence with City Hall to thwart gambling arrests invested in a Shippan restaurant owned by a Stamford policeman. In classic mob fashion, the racketeer sought respectability by using his restaurant to curry favor with Stamford policemen and local politicians who began accepting gratuities from the owner. As disclosed in an earlier Advocate

228 probe, these gratuities ranged from free meals or drinks to Las Vegas gambling junkets or Superbowl vacation trips. It was recently learned, however, that a department commander and one City detective were so close to the mobster that they were frequently decribed by State Police informants as his "bodyguards" and "chauffeurs." Even recently, despite warnings from Police Chief Victor I. Cizanckas and the FBI, some police officers have continued to associate with the local mob boss. Last month, Cizanckas placed three policemen on report after they were observed at a North Stamford country club playing cards with the racketeer. In the narcotics area, a Stamford police detective began operating a major drug ring here and was protected from prosecution by his commanders. An earlier Advocate investigation revealed that a 1971 State Police report disclosed the officer's activities but State's Attorney Joseph Gormley, now the chief state's attorney, declined to authorize a grand jury inquiry or wiretap. As a result, the detective remained on duty, continued to peddle narcotics and even testified in court trials at the request of the State's Attorney's Office. It was recently learned, however, the other members of the narcotics squad were also offered pay-offs. One police officer was reportedly offered $4,000 to cover up for certain offenders and, after refusing, was transferred out of the unit. In addition to the narcotics and gambling activity, other illegal activities included police involvement in burglaries, loan sharking and gun trading. A State Police investigation between July and September of 1975 —

triggered by the arrest of two

Stamford police officers on burglary charges - developed solid evidence in several of these areas but was terminated in the fall of 1975 without further investigation.

229

FROM POTTSVILLE (PENNSYLVANIA) IN 1978 BY GILBERT M, G A U L / E L L I O T G, JASPIN Pottsville

Gilbert M. Gaul

Republican

(born on May 18, 1951, in Jersey City, N.J.) was

graduated from Saint Benedict's Preparatory School in Newark, N. J. , in 1969, and from Fairleigh Dickinson University, Teaneck, N.J., in 1973 with

a degree in the humanities. He worked as a teacher

before turning to a career in journalism in 1976. Gaul began his career at th& Times-News in Lehighton, Pa., reporting on inadequacies

in

the state welfare system

and

abuses in the county pur-

chasing system. Gaul started work at the Pottsville January,

1978.

Mineola, Ν. Y.) ated with Me., in

a

Elliot

-

G.

Jaspin

(born

Republican

on May

27,

in

1946, in

attended the Baldwin Public Schools and was graduB.A. in Economics from Colby College in Waterville,

1969.

He

year to work for

left

college between his Sophomore and Junior

a year as

a

'Vista' volunteer in Albuquerque,

N.M., as a community organizer. Following graduation from college, Jaspin briefly worked on a magazine in New York's mid-Hudson Valley and then returned to Maine to work as a reporter on the Kennebec Journal

in Augusta. In

1972,

work on the Pottsville

Republican

tor for the Times-News

in Lehighton,

Pottsville

Republican

reporter. Gaul

and

in

1976

Jaspin won

he moved to Pennsylvania to

and in 1 974 he became wire edi-

as the

Pa.

the

Jaspin returned to the

newspaper's investigative

Pulitzer Prize for Local Re-

porting in 1979 for work done in the previous year.

230 BANKRUPTCY OF A COAL COMPANY WELL-PLANNED BY MAGNATES

[Source: Elliot Jaspin/Gil Gaul: Price to taxpayers may be in $ millions: Blue Coal demise costly to public. Jimmy Hoffa in picture up to his disappearance in July 1975, in: Pottsville Republican (Pottsville, Pa.), Vol. CLXXXVIII/No. 38, June 12, 1978, p. 1, cols. 1 - 4; p. 5, cols. 1 - 4; reprinted by permission of the Pottsville Republican, Pottsville, Pa.]

Aided by what appears to be a near total collapse of law enforcement within the Shapp Administration, a holding company which had as one of its apparent financial backers missing former Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa, has managed to dismantle the huge Blue Coal Company in Ashley, Luzerne County. A year-long investigation by The REPUBLICAN has uncovered testimony that the liquidation of Blue Coal, which at present is in bankruptcy, was planned from the day the company was purchased by the Great American Coal Company on Nov. 26, 1973. It has also been learned that one of the beneficiaries of the bankruptcy was James J. Tedesco, a coal magnate who has had ties to organized crime, and that the cost of Blue Coal's demise to state government and private individuals may reach well over $20 million. Shortly before his disappearance in July, 1975, Hoffa told a reporter that, in 1973, he had invested an unspecified amount of money in Great American, a Delaware corporation that was created by James J. Durkin Sr. and Hyman Green. Durkin, a Dallas, Pa., businessman and former state policeman, is a long time associate of reputed organized crime figure Fred Correale and - was a founder of the scandal-hidden Pocono Downs Race Track, outside of Wilkes-Barre. Green, who has a New York City business address, but who lives in North Miami, has a history of borrowing millions of dollars from the Teamsters* Central States Pension Fund for businesses which have a bad habit of ending up in poor financial straits. With the aid of an $8.5 million loan from a New York based real estate investment trust company, Great American purchased the stock of Raymond Colliery, Blue Coal Corporation and eleven other smaller coal companies on November 26, 1973. Within three months, Blue Coal had ceased mining anthracite and backfilling had virtually stopped.

231 In the course of examining voluminous documents and interviewing numerous public officials, mining experts and lawyers who at one time or another have been involved in the Blue Coal case, the REPUBLICAN has learned that: —

In what was described by one state legislator as a

manufactured crisis, anthracite operators argued there was a coal shortage after Blue Coal, one of the six major producers, was shut down by Great American in February, 1974. In October, 1974, the remaining five major coal companies, which along with Blue Coal have since been fined after pleading no contest to charges of price-fixing, raised the price of coal from the 1973 level of $20-per-ton to as high as $60-per-ton. — James J. Tedesco who, along with one of his companies, Lehigh Valley Coal Sales Company, Inc., pleaded no contest to price-fixing charges, and was fined in 1978, has been linked to the running of Great American Coal and ultimately gained potential control of Blue Coal lands after the company went into bankruptcy. The value of those lands, including the coal in place, has been estimated at more than $263,000,000. — The Rockwood Insurance Company, in a tactic known as "dumping", canceled its workmen's compensation insurance of Blue Coal in mid-term for non-payment of premiums shortly before Blue Coal ceased its mining operations. Blue Coal, simultaneously, turned to the Pennsylvania State Workman's Insurance Fund

(SWIF),

which by law must accept even undesirable insurance risks, and stopped mining, leaving its unemployed miners to file black lung claims against the state rather than Rockwood Insurance. SWIF DEPLETED — The Blue Coal claims so depleted SWIF that special legislation had to be enacted to bail out the state-operated insurance plan, and it is estimated that the total bill to the state for these claims will reach $9,750,000. — Despite a 1974 audit of SWIF by then State Auditor General Robert P. Casey's department, which recommended a state Justice Department investigation of the "dumping", Attorney General Robert P. Kane and his staff not only took no action, but were totally unaware the audit even existed until being informed about it by The REPUBLICAN.

232 — Legislation enacted to prevent future "dumping" by coal companies is described today by SWIF officials as "an empty gesture," and State Insurance Commissioner William Sheppard, who has tried unsuccessfully to have the legislature investigate the problem, acknowledges that the same kind of dumping can occur again. — State-required bonding on Blue Coal strip mine permits never exceeded 10 percent of the cost of doing the backfilling that the company ultimately left unfinished. A recent state study shows that it will cost the taxpayer an estimated $10 million if the unfinished backfilling is completed. —

In apparent disregard for state law and court orders, Blue

Coal sold off most of its earth-moving equipment which was required to be used in the backfilling. — Pennsylvania Justice Department lawyers and high Department of Environmental Resources officials failed on several occasions to enforce state regulations although warned repeatedly by their own inspectors that Blue Coal was flouting the law. — On April 1, 1976, Blue Coal, which had so flagrantly defied environmental laws that one state Department of Evironmental Resources lawyer recommended the company president be jailed, was granted a moratorium on backfilling because the company claimed it was in financial difficulty. — Only two months after the moratorium was granted, internal memorandums show DER officials knew there was no basis to the company claim, but they allowed the moratorium to continue for another seven months. BLUE

COAL

DEBTS

— Blue Coal has entered into bankruptcy owing the United Mine Workers of America-operated Anthracite Health and Welfare Pension Fund $2.4 million; $4.5 million in unpaid taxes and penalties to the federal government, and $435,000 in outstanding taxes to the state. —

In what appears to be a serious conflict of interest, former

Judge Charles A. Shea Jr. is both the court-appointed trustee for bankrupt Blue Coal, and a partner in a Wilkes-Barre law firm which represents, not only a business of James J. Durkin Sr., but also the Anthracite Health and Welfare Pension Fund — a major creditor of Blue Coal.

233 In short, in the space of a little over three years, the Great American Coal Company, which controlled Blue Coal activities, has jarred the solvency of several state funds, and left numerous deep gashes in the landscape of Luzerne and Lackawanna counties. And in the process, what was once one of the state's major coal producers, has been left in a shambles. In effect, the founders of Great American had accomplished what was the stated purpose of James J. Durkin Sr., who said in a 1977 deposition, "When we took over

(Blue Coal) what we had

in mind was to liquidate the company, which we did." B E G I N N I N G OF THE END The company that Durkin and his friends set out to liquidate was once one of the largest in the industry and dominates the nearby landscape of Ashley, a small, deteriorating town on the outskirts of Wilkes-Barre. When Great American took over Blue Coal in 1973, the company owned approximately 28,000 acres of coal lands in the northern anthracite field, and was producing about a million tons of coal a year. In addition, Blue Coal owned more than a dozen culm banks that held between 20,000,000 and 60,000,000 tons of material that could be reprocessed and sold. Other assets included four breakers and over 150 pieces of equipment, including 25 bulldozers and 30 trucks. One survey placed the value of the land alone at $30 million and the equipment at $7.5 million. At the time of its sale in 1973, the entire company was appraised at a hefty $281 million. From all appearances, Great American was successful in its attempt to "liquidate" huge Blue Coal. A major portion of Blue Coal's mining equipment has been sold off to James J. Durkin Sr. and Louis J. Beltrami, a Hazleton coal operator who has also been linked to Great American, and has operated on Blue Coal mining permits since 1974. Similarly, Blue Coal lands have either been sold outright to individuals in Great American or have been transferred through a complex series of transactions to associates of the company. Evidence has also been uncovered which suggests the assets of Blue Coal were sometimes used for personal gain by the handsomely

234 paid executives of Great American while the company's financial situation steadily deteriorated. For example, The REPUBLICAN learned that in September 1975, Hyman Green and Louis Beltrami used the company plane to fly to a horse auction in Lexington, Kentucky, at which they reportedly purchased $130,000 worth of race horses. According to a reliable source, the company plane was also used on numerous occasions to fly to North Miami, where Green owns a condominium, and on another occasion was used by Green and his daughter to fly to Forth Worth, Texas. But it would be a mistake, however, to assume that the race to carve up Blue Coal lands and convert its assets into cash did not occur without serious obstacles.

The Dalton, Pa. home that J a m e s R. Harding rented in 1975. Harding was reportedly on the scene to "protect" the interests of Jimmy Hoffa in Great American Coal Company. (Staff photo by Jaspin)

[Source:

Pottsville

Republican,

June

12,

1978, p .

1.]

235 BACKFILLING

LAGS

When Great American took over Blue Coal in 1973, it inherited a series of stripping pits that, according to state law, had to be backfilled. However state reports indicate that the newly acquired company almost immediately fell behind on its backfilling requirements . According to law, the state could have forced compliance, either by taking Blue Coal to court or by revoking the company's mining permits and seizing the bonds Blue Coal had put up in case it did not complete the backfilling. Seven months after Great American bought Blue Coal the state took Blue Coal to court in Luzerne County. The only effect of that confrontation was that backfilling was resumed briefly, but then fell off again. A year later, in June, 1975, DER charged Blue Coal with contempt of court. In response, Great American changed around its corporate officers, claimed it was under new management, and ultimately got DER to drop its charges. Adding insult to injury, Blue Coal also managed to sell off most of the mining equipment which was to have been used for backfilling from under the very noses of DER officials, and in April, 1976, the company obtained a virtual surrender from DER in the form of a nine-month moratorium on backfilling. The end result of all this was that Blue Coal avoided the lion's share of its backfilling requirements right up until the time the company went into bankruptcy. The DER wasn't the only state agency to be stung by Blue Coal, however. When Blue Coal closed its mines on Feb. 22, 1974, more than 100 men, who normally would have been covered under the company's private workmen's compensation plan were thrown out of work. But the same day the mines were closed, Great American was also dropped by its private insurance carrier for unpaid premiums of $120,000. Curiously, the company managed to come up with $183,452 the same day to rejoin the state workmen's compensation fund. $9.75 MILLION

IN

CLAIMS?

The upshot of this series of maneuvers was what one state official bluntly called "a screwing." The State Workmen's

236 Insurance Fund became liable for 97 blacklung claims which are projected to run upwards of $9.75 million. Great American easily rode out a protest from the legislature, half-hearted investigations by the State Insurance Commission and scrutiny from the auditor general's office for what was termed its "dumping" of insurance claims on the state. While Durkin and Green could not be reached for comment, James Tedesco characterized his role as being the president of the company that bought the Great American mortgage. Asked what his role was in Great American, Tedesco replied, "I have none whatsoever." When Blue Coal finally went into bankruptcy in December 1976, it also owed

$2.4 million to the Anthracite Health and Welfare

Fund and $435,000 in outstanding taxes to the state. And, with the exception of Jimmy Hoffa, who mysteriously disappeared, it does not appear that the Blue Coal bankruptcy has slowed any of the participants in Great American. Hyman Green recently borrowed $20 million from a Long Island Teamster pension fund for the construction of a 1,000 - room hotel - gambling casino in Las Vegas. James J. Durkin Sr., described as a multi-millionaire, has popped up in several lucrative coal deals, including an option to purchase $50 million in West Virginia properties and ownership of numerous valuable culm banks in northern Pennsylvania. And finally, James Tedesco, who lurks in the shadows of the Great American liquidation effort and gained potential control of $263,000,000 worth of Blue Coal lands for less than $4.5 million. Despite his recent plea of no contest on price-fixing charges, he appears to be in firm control of a lion's share of the state's anthracite industry.

237

FROM BOSTON (MASSACHUSETTS) IN 1979 BY NILS J. A. BRUZELI US / ALEXANDER B. HAWES JR. / S T E P H E N A. KURKJ1AN / ROBERT M. PORTERFI ELD / JOAN VENNOCHI The Boston

Nils J. A. Bruzelius Sweden)

graduated

(born

Globe

on February 27,

from Amherst College in

1947, 1968

in Stockholm,

with

a

B.A. in

history and shortly afterward started as a reporter for the Middlesex

News.

and went

to

He joined the Associated

the Boston

Globe

in

Press

South

in Boston in 1970

1973. - Alexander B. Hawes Jr.

(born on July 5, 1947, in Washington, D.C.) attended the University of Denver where he majored in political science. In 1970 he joined

the

Berkshire

Eagle

of

Pittsfield, Mass., and after two

years moved to the Sun in Colorado Springs. In 1976 Hawes joined the Boston

Globe.

- Stephen A. Kurkjian

(born on August 28, 1943,

in Boston, Mass.) is a graduate of Boston University in 1966 and of Suffolk University. In Globe's

1970

investigative team

and

he became a member of the

thus of the group winning a 1972

Pulitzer Prize. - Robert M. Porterfield in Portland, Or.) Or.,

and

Anchorage

the

attended

University

Daily

News

of

(born on October 1 1 , 1945,

South Eugene Oregon.

on

January

team which won the

27,

High

School in Eugene,

He became 197 6

Public Service before he joined the Boston (born

a member of the

Pulitzer Prize for

Globe.

- Joan Vennochi

1953, in Brooklyn, N.Y.) is a graduate of

Boston University's School of Public Communication. as a reporter on the Danbury for

Newsday

Boston

News Times

before joining the

Boston

She

started

and as an intern reporter Globe

in June, 1976. The

five person Spotlight Team won the 1980 Pulitzer Prize for Local Reporting for work published in the year before.

238 INEFFICIENCY WITHIN UNION-DOMINATED TRANSPORTATION

AUTHORITY

[Source: Nils J. A. Bruzelius/Alexander B. Hawes Jr. /Stephen A. Kurkjian/Robert M. Porterfield/Joan Vennochi: Politically powerful unions clamp an iron grip on MBTA, in: Boston Sunday Globe (Boston, Mass.), Vol. 216/No. 169, December 16, 1979, p. 1, cols. 1 - 6 ; p. 2, cols. 2 - 6 ; reprinted by permission of the Boston Globe, Boston, Mass.]

The crisis threatening to shut down the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority is the result of an iron grip that politically powerful unions have been able to clamp on the system. A three-month investigation by The Globe Spotlight team has found massive evidence that union domination of management is a major reason why the MBTA, mile for mile, is the most costly and least efficient major transit system in the United States. A Spotlight team analysis shows that the MBTA'scost per mile of operation in 1978 was $6.22, nearly double that of the $3.39 for the second most expensive system, San Francisco's. The MBTA's cost per passenger was $1.56 for the year, far more than the $1.12 of runner-up Washington's new system. By other standard measures of efficiency - cost per vehicle, miles of operation per employee and wage cost per mile of operation - the MBTA score was the worst. MBTA executives and critics, while differing on details, have agreed that management problems have plagued the rapid transit authority for years. "The Τ stinks ... there is no discipline anywhere," Robert L. Foster, the chairman of the MBTA, told a meeting of department heads in October. The Spotlight study found that a principal reason for weak management is an alliance of unions and the State House. The alliance, re-established by the administration of Gov. Edward J. King after a rupture under Gov. Michael Dukakis, has historically undercut management efforts to upgrade labor productivity, and has doomed emergency programs to repair breakdown-prone Light Rail Vehicles

(LRVs), aging buses and streetcars.

One of the King administration's first moves was to oust most of a team of officials experienced in management who were hired under the Dukakis administration and replace them with union-oriented persons. In an interview with The Globe, Foster conceded that the unions have an upper hand in setting productivity standards at the MBTA and that there was a problem with the efficiency of the labor force

239

Asked if King's recent intercessions on behalf of the unions had undercut attempts to strengthen management1 s position, Foster said: "There's a germ of truth in there." When asked to cite any examples of improvements in productivity made by his management team so far, Foster said they would not be evident until next April. One high-ranking official in the Carmen's Union conceded privately that problems such as insubordination laziness, harassment of foremen, leaving early and resistance to improvements in work methods are present among the workers repairing Light Rail Vehicles (LRVs) and streetcars. These repairmen are members of the Carmen's Union. However, George Adams, president of the Carmen's Union, and Joseph E. Nevins, president of the Machinists' Union, the two unions cited most frequently for poor productivity, denied that the work habits of their members were the major cause of present and past problems. Instead the two union heads said the present crisis besetting the MBTA stemmed from a massive breakdown of transmissions in a fleet of buses bought in 1975, which forced the MBTA to curtail sharply its preventive maintenance program; a lack of new parts for aged trolleys; a cut in the number of MBTA mechanics; and management's failure to deploy the mechanics where they were most needed. King refused to be interviewed on the problems. The Globe investigation uncovered specific instances of the alliance between unions and the State House at work and example after example of the adverse effects that union domination has had on the operation and costs of the MBTA. The following is a summary of the Spotlight findings, details of which will appear in subsequent articles. LOW PRODUCTIVITY - The MBTA has allowed unions to determine work habits and efficiency standards. The contract of the Carmen's Union, the biggest union among MBTA employees, protects "established practices" from being changed, thus blocking efforts to cut repair costs and coordinate work schedules. There have been some improvements in productivity at some of the smaller repair yards. INTIMIDATION — Workers and bosses attempting to upgrade efficiency have been harassed, their private cars damaged, their

240 tires slashed, their tools smeared with grease, and they and their wives and children have been threatened. LACK OF DISCIPLINE — Supervisors say that they are reluctant to discipline workers for harassment of others, frequent unauthorized work slowdowns or other egregious acts because of a failure of upper-level managers to support their decisions. King allegedly has intervened to cancel penalties against union members who supported his election. SHODDY REPAIRS —

Inspectors interviewed said they had found

loose brake shoes and dangerously binding accelerators on street cars that had just been overhauled by work crews. JOB PROTECTION — MBΤA employees, whose average base pay of $20,835 is the highest of all state employees, enjoy almost 100 percent protection against lay-offs. "Getting a job at the Τ is like dying and going to heaven," is a common refrain among MBTA employees. OVERTIME ABUSE — Workers have been paid for working as much as 96 straight hours. Supervisors say that working efficiently four days straight without sleep is impossible, but they are helpless to prevent such practices because of contract restrictions. SHORT SHIFTS —

Some workers were observed leaving their jobs

before their shift was completed. Supervisors in several repair yards said it is frequent practice among some workers to have others punch their time cards. THEFTS — More than $300,000 and possibly more than a halfmillion dollars in fares are apparently stolen by employees each year and attempts by management to curtail the thefts are thwarted by unions and workers. MISUSE OF PROPERTY — Instead of working on MBTA repair jobs, workers have been seen repairing their cars and painting their wrought-iron furniture on MBTA time, using MBTA tools and MBTA materials. WEAK MANAGERS — Under King and Foster, upper-level management jobs have once again been handed out to politically connected persons, while a significant number of officials hired or promoted under Dukakis and his MBTA chairman, Robert R. Kiley, for their expertise in dealing with unions have been forced out. POOR PENSION FUND — The MBTA pension fund, administered by the First National Bank, has had, in recent years, the worst performance record of any public employee pension fund in Massachu-

241 setts, its performance has cost the state millions of dollars in increased appropriations and MBTA employees millions in payroll assessments to maintain retirement benefits. The most powerful of the 28 unions that represent MBTA employees is Local 589 of the Amalgamated Transit Union. Known as the Carmen's Union, the group's membership includes twothirds of the 6000 MBTA employees, such as drivers, collectors, guards and the mechanics who maintain the streetcars and subway trains — and virtually all their supervisors. The union's power has grown steadily since 1912, when, following a strike by its members that closed down the transit system, it won from the Legislature the right to bargain collectively for its members. Other public employee unions in Massachusetts, such as those representing teachers and police, did not receive the right to bargain as a unit until the 1950s and '60s. "They've been an aggressive bargaining unit through the years," one former MBTA labor relations specialist said. "While other unions have been fighting for basic rights that the Carmen have had for years, the Carmen have been pressing for more sophisticated rights." One major concession that the union was able to extract from management was the provision that no new work standard could be implemented if it infringed on an established work practice. Union members have used the provision several times to reject management attempts for such improvements as decreasing the amount of time it takes to complete repair jobs, and coordinating work schedules for bus drivers to cut down on excess overtime. Isadore Gromfine, a Washington lawyer retained by the Carmen's Union in its contracts and disputes, said the "established practices" clause is common, but not universal, in union contracts with transit authorities. Also, he said, the provision had not been abused to thwart legitimate attempts by MBTA management to improve work practices. But some MBTA supervisors interviewed by The Globe said trolley and LRV repairmen, who are members of the Carmen's Union, frequently refuse to heed their new instructions on work habits, citing the "established practices" clause. "I suppose we could discipline the guy, but then he'd grieve it, and somewhere along the line it would get lost in the shuffle," one supervisor said. "It's just not worth that effort."

242 Adams, president of the MBTA's Carmen's Union, said the chief reason that his members invoked the provision was to prevent new methods that could result in a loss of jobs. Adams said the problems in repairing the street cars do not stem from repairmen not working hard enough, but because of the old age of the trolleys, the last of which was made about 1941. "They don't manufacture PCC (streetcars) parts any longer ... Where are you going to get them? They (the repairmen) are improvising, they're machining their own parts, and if you look at it that way, they're doing a fabulous job." As for any harassment of foremen and supervisors, while Adams said his union does not condone such acts, he acknowledged such practices do go on. "I get some awful telephone calls late at night," Adams said. "And my wife has gotten some terrible phone calls late at night. It's just a sick society around here." Nevins, president of the Local 264 of the International Assn. of Machinists, which represents the 410 MBTA mechanics who

Lis* A

Thii cartooa appeared on anioa b n l l e t i · boards al MBTA facilities the day after Edwart J. Klag was elected governor ia 1971 It lists the aaaie« ef 13 persons hired or promoted during GOT. Michael S. Dukakis's administrativ· who had b e e · coaststeatly toagh is their deaiiag with the naioni. Prophetically, eight of the U have been fired or demoted during the i t iA«pths Robert L. Foster has been chairman. Ptrged were Robert Kiley, former chairman of the 'T;' David G e o · , former chief of operations: A. Richardson Goodlatte. former chief mechanical officer, Cleveland S. Peeke. superintendent of the Greea Line; Lester E. Donovan, resoarce controller for light rail vehicles iLRVsh, Ronald Davis, chief foreman at Riverside carhouse. William H. Kuiper, manager of administration and finance, and David Fecley, bead of biu maintenance. The fire who have remained la their positions are Kenneth D. Crane. LRV resource manager; Richard Dunbrack, a foreman al Arborway carhouse; John J. MaeDoaaid. inspector foreman of the Green Line; Robert Thornton, electrical engineer, and David Norton, a foreman at Riverside carhouse.

F o 3 E * r

2) 3J

friifflks »

6F

6-unw Dick

G.oo&J*+fE

•j) ctevt

?6Ek

α

σο [Source:

The

Boston

Globe,

December

20,

1979, p.

1.]

243 maintain and rebuild the system's bus engines, said his members respect and follow the orders of most supervisors. "There are a few (supervisors) that definitely don 1 1 have respect," Nevins said. He cited one supervisor who despite the crisis of buses breaking down had allotted only one machinist to repair the bus engines. "If they utilized the men properly, they could get 100 percent out of them," Nevins said. When asked if they were getting 100 percent out of the men now, Nevins said: "That's a tough question. Morale has picked up definitely now that they (the Foster administration) got rid of that one supervisor. But they've still go to do a better job in utilizing the men." The unions have been able to cement their close relationship with the Legislature and the governor's office by being receptive to calls for jobs. According to one former high-ranking state official, the unions used patronage to extract favors from legislators and other high-ranking officials. "Patronage required union cooperation. During my years in state government, MBΤA jobs were filled from long waiting lists. But the lists, as part of a quiet arrangement between management and labor, were never made public. The union leadership carried them around in their pockets, and jumped people to the front to gain favors," the former official said. The unions' close ties to the State House have assisted them on several key matters. For example, in 1967, fearful that management was planning to shut down the MBTA power stations and buy its electricity from Boston Edison, which could have resulted in a loss of union jobs, the union executives appealed to the Massachusetts Legislature for help. The Legislature enacted a law that requires the MBTA to maintain its own power generating facility. A reliable source said that the MBTA could save up to $2 million in costs a year if it decided to buy all of its electricity from Boston Edison. There has been little improvement in worker productivity even though a 1970 state task force study concluded that no further capital expansion of the MBTA be approved until productivity was increased. A 1968 study had found that it cost more to operate an MBTA subway car than it did for a commercial jet plane. Little has changed since then.

244 A Spotlight analysis of transit data shows that during

1978,

the M B T A ran 6,333 miles of vehicle service for each employee. The figure is 23 percent lower than the n e x t least productive system —

New York City's 8242 miles per employee. The same year,

the per m i l e cost of operating the MBTA system was $ 6 . 2 2 — percent higher than the next least efficient system — Francisco's

83

San

$3.39.

While the costs of running the M B T A are at their highest in its history, the service is at its worst. For the first three quarters of this year, the rate of scheduled runs completed by M B T A vehicles has dropped after generally showing some slight improvement in the past several years. O n two of the four subway lines and o n half of the Green Line branches, the percentage of scheduled runs has dropped this year, following improvements in the last two years. On five of the six major bus lines, the number of m i s s e d runs has taken a dramatic jump. For instance, between 1977 and 1978, the total number of bus runs that were m i s s e d climbed by 31 percent. A t the rate the M B T A is running this year, it will miss 73,000 bus runs, an increase of 102 percent over last year. The only improvement shown in M B T A service so far this year has b e e n in the performance of nine commuter rail lines. However, the commuter trains are not operated and m a i n t a i n e d by M B T A employees, but by the Boston & Maine railroad. Of two extensive crash programs designed by the MBTA m a n a g e m e n t to get buses and trolleys back in service, neither has come near its original goals, although m i l l i o n s of dollars have been expended. A n $8 m i l l i o n program to renovate 50 aging streetcars in two years has resulted in only 15 vehicles being completed at a cost of $7.3

m i l l i o n during the period.

The m u c h ballyhooed emergency program to rebuild 100 brokendown bus engines in 60 days this fall produced only 48 "complete overhauls" during the period according to M B T A records. According to a source knowledgeable about the program, the work is not as extensive as what w o u l d have been done by a private firm —

and

may result in a loss of as m u c h as 20 percent on the projected 250,000 m i l e life of the rebuilt engines.

245

FROM TUCSON (ARIZONA) IN 1980 BY CLARK HALLAS / ROBERT B. LOWE The Arizona Daily Star

Clark Ha 11 as

(born on May 14, 1935, in Washington, D.C.) grew up

in Michigan and attended Michigan State University and Wayne State University.

He worked

for

the Detroit News as city-hall bureau

chief, political reporter, investigative reporter, and financial writer from 1 968 to 1 978. assignments laundering

included of money

and

business

Some of his most important

a

1976

investigation

into

Jimmy Carter's

to

finance deceptive political advertising

campaigns while running for governor of Georgia. In December, 1978, Hallas joined the Arizona Daily Star as an investigative reporter. - Robert B. Lowe

(born on August 1 3, 1953, in Pasadena, Cal.) attend-

ed Pasadena public schools and was student-body president at John Muir High School. He received his college degree in economics from Stanford University in 1 975. Lowe worked for the Arizona

Republic

and Gazette for one year, primarily covering the Arizona legislature. He joined the Arizona Daily Star in 1976 and was the newspaper's Phoenix bureau chief and legislative reporter until 1979, when he moved to Tucson and became the Arizona Daily Star*s fulltime investigative reporter. Hallas and Lowe won the 1981 Pulitzer Prize for Local Reporting for work done in the previous year.

246 IMPROPER USE OF UNIVERSITY ATHLETIC RECRUITING

FUNDS

[Source: Bob Lowe/Clark Hallas: UA spends football recruiting money on nonrecruits, in: The Arizona Daily Star (Tucson, Ariz.), Vol. 139/No. 13, January 13, 1980, p. 1 A, cols. 1 - 5; p. 4 A, cols. 1 - 4; reprinted by permission of the Arizona Daily Star, Tucson, Ariz.]

Football coach Tony Mason used University of Arizona recruiting funds at least six times to bring non-recruits to Tucson, billing the UA once for a resort stay by the owner of a California massage studio, The Arizona Daily Star has found. The visit of the California woman a year ago, several trips made by one or more Houston women, plus a trip from Toronto by another person were among 12 Mason-approved recruiting expenditures totaling nearly $3,000 that the Star has asked university officials to examine. UA Athletic Director David Strack has confirmed that at least three recipients of the trips were not prospective football players, although they were indentified as recruits on university documents accounting for the expenditures. In written explanations of several of the trips, Strack —

in

consultation with Mason — has justified the expenditures as being connected with the UA football program. The Star's findings conflict with Strack's explanations, however. Among the discrepancies are: • Strack said several university-paid flights from Houston were made by different persons, indicating that three were made by different sisters from a family that has helped Mason recruit in the Houston area. The Star learned from Houston court records and family members, however, that there are only two sisters in the family. The husband of one sister says she has not been to Tucson since Mason took over coaching duties at the UA in December 1976. • According to Strack, another Houston trip was made by one sister's son, who played football under Mason before the coach came to the UA. The son was being interviewed for a job as a graduate assistant, Strack explained. However, the father of the former University of Cincinnati football player has told the Star his son never finished college — a requirement for holding the graduate assistant job — and 1

247 maintains his son hasn't been to Tucson for at least several years. • The California woman's flight was a justifiable

"thank-you"

visit given by Mason out of gratitude for her assistance in recruiting on the West Coast, according to Strack. She was entertained by both Mason and his wife, he said. Approximately a month ago, however, the woman denied to reporters that she knew Mason. She said the Tucson visit was made by her stepson, but her explanation was later refuted by the man she described as her former husband. Ordinarily, the recruiting funds — donated to the university by the Wildcat Club booster group —

are used for coaches 1

re-

cruiting trips and to bring authentic recruits to the UA campus for up to 48 hours. Wildcat Club donations also provide athletic scholarships. Recruiting practices in intercollegiate athletics are tightly controlled by the National Collegiate Athletic Association. The UA's paying for airplane flights and accommodations for the non-recruits could be contrary to NCAA regulations, according to the official in charge of enforcing the organization's rules. The expenditures also could be grounds for an inquiry by the Arizona attorney general, state officials said. Strack has confirmed that at least six trips were made by nonrecruits, although expense vouchers and billings sent to the university and approved by Mason for five trips incorrectly list the persons entertained as recruits. Documents for three of the trips bear the notation "recruit" or "prospect," apparently in Mason's handwriting. In a review of five of the cases, Strack has said that "from the facts now known" it appears the expenditures were properly connected with football recruiting activities. Strack did not say whether the sixth, a trip from Toronto made by "a person who has helped us in our public relations," was a proper university expenditure. The visitor was "not in any way involved in recruitment of prospective student-athletes,11 he said Mason has repeatedly refused to be interviewed about the use of recruiting money for non-recruits' visits, including the six trips for which the university paid more than $1 ,800 in air fare and accommodations. In a Jan. 3 letter, Mason acknowledged that he had re-

248 ceived written questions submitted by reporters a week earlier, but said he would rely upon Strack to "communicate with you further." Mason's claim on hotel and travel-agency billings that the 36-year-old massage studio owner was a UA football recruit was discovered during a Star examination of the UA's football program. On Mason's authorization, the university paid a total of $259.55 for her round-trip plane fare from Monterey and her Jan. 3-4, 1979, stay in a private cottage at Skyline Country Club. University documents indentify the woman only by first initial and last name. Because the Star found no indication that she or other recipients of university-paid trips knew the UA paid for their visits, their names are not published here. UA records also show that the athletic department was billed for 23 telephone calls to the California woman's home during a five-month period from December 1978 to April 1979, including one made from the Stouffer Inn in Denver, where Mason was staying the day the call was made. The Star also found that in a one-year period, the UA Athletic Department paid for 90 telephone calls to the home and office of a Houston woman whose maiden and married names match those on billings for four airplane trips to Tucson. Travel-agency billings and one of Mason's expense vouchers show the Houston woman's first initial and name on documents accounting for four visits since 1977, Mason's first coaching season at UA. Her first initial and maiden name was on billings for one trip from Cincinnati

(Sept. 20, 1977) and two from Houston (Sept. 1, 1978

and Aug. 24, 1979). The billing for another trip from Houston (July 14, 1978) carried her first initial and married name. The Star has been unable to determine whether four other persons flown to Tucson as recruits under Mason's authorization were athletes. Documents for all trips listed first initials and last names. The telephone calls to Monterey were to a home owned by the woman who listed a massage studio for her business address on a 1977 traffic ticket. California corporation records indicate she owned the business until its sale last August. She has since moved to Florida.

249 On an invoice from the Hyways and Byways Travel agency billing the university for a $170, round-trip ticket from Monterey to Tucson for the California woman, Mason apparently signed his name, marked it "OK" and, in the same handwriting, wrote "Recruit." Similarly, Mason appears to have signed the $89.55 Skyline Country Club bill, which included a $31.79 room-service charge for a steak dinner for two, with the words "Recruit ... OK ... Tony Mason." That billing to the university is marked "revised billing" and charges the school for the Jan. 3-4 stay of the supposed recruit identified only by first initial and last name. The billing bears the notation, "Cottage guest - per Tony Mason." The room listed on the billing is a private cottage known as the "executive parlor." A Skyline employee said it probably rented for more than $70 a night at the time of the visit last January, although the billing was for only $25 per night. The cottage consists of a sitting room, two double beds, a dining area, a kitchen and large porch. Strack characterized the woman's visit as a "thank you" for her help in UA's recruiting efforts and said she was entertained by both Coach and Mrs. Mason during her two-day stay. He said Mason knows the woman's father, as well. "The woman lived in California after her marriage and Coach Mason asked her for help in connection with recruiting," Strack said. "At that time she was connected with a restaurant and had relatives in the trucking business. "Her help was instrumental in obtaining off-season jobs for football players and in providing transportation and entertainment facilities in connection with (UA) recruiters traveling on the West Coast," Strack wrote. Earlier, the woman herself gave an entirely different explanation of the trip. "I personally don't know Tony Mason," she told a reporter Dec. 11 in a telephone call from Florida. She claimed that the person who traveled to Tucson was the son of her ex-husband. The woman said the prep star had been heavily recruited by UA and "a school in Colorado." She could not recall where he played high school football.

250 According to the woman, the first time she met the young grid star was when he came to live with her temporarily in Monterey during the period the recruiting contacts were made. She said she believed the calls were made by a UA assistant coach. She also told the reporter she was in Florida to obtain emergency medical treatment for her 6-year-old son before returning to Montego Bay, Jamaica, where she would be inaccessible by phone. However, two days later, a reporter reached the woman's former husband and his first wife, who is now a lawyer. Both denied the existence of the purported football-star son. Later, the first wife said she contacted the California woman in Florida and confronted her about the story. The lawyer later told the Star that the woman said she had fabricated the story given to the newspaper, and actually made the January flight to Tucson herself. "She told me that she had known Tony Mason for 20 years, that she was from the same town in Ohio where he had coached," the lawyer said. (Mason coached at Niles McKinley High School in Ohio from 1958-63 before moving into the college ranks.) "She said she had talked to Tony about this." Reached by reporters at her Florida home, the California woman this time refused to discuss the matter. In connection with the Houston trips, the Star found that from July 1978 to last June at least 62 calls were made to the accounting office of a labor union in Houston. Another 28 calls were made during that period to a private residence in a Houston suburb. According to a person who answered the phone at that residence, it is the home of a woman whose first initial, along with her maiden and married names, match names listed for persons who made three university-paid trips from Houston and one from Cincinnati. The Houston woman also has worked in the union's accounting office. Acquaintances describe her as a divorcee in her 40s. Repeated attempts to interview the woman, including a request submitted to her attorney, have been unsuccessful. The four 1977-79 flights authorized for persons with the woman's maiden and married names cost the university more than $900, and UA paid at least one bill for lodging —

$21.50 at the

Plaza International Hotel. Reporters also asked university officials about a person of

251 another name who was listed as a recruit and flown to Tucson from Houston on Nov. 16, 1978, at a cost of $208. Strack, in an apparent reference to the five Houston and Cincinnati flights, said, "Three of the names which were questioned are those of three sisters whose father was a close friend of Coach Mason." He said the son of one of the sisters was flown to Tucson to interview for a graduate assistant's job and that the son had played for Mason before Mason came to the UA. "One of the others who was flown in was a prospective football recruit," said Strack. According to Strack, the entire family, while not actually contacting prospective recruits, aids the UA football program in other ways, such as helping to find off-season jobs for players, providing UA recruiters with transportation and "numerous other activities. " "While I have not yet had time to review the details of each expenditure, and therefore cannot at this time attest to the propriety of each dollar spent, it does appear that the calls placed to members of this family in Houston and the expenditures made in connection with travel and other arrangements were connected to the football program and did not violate either (Pacific-10) Conference or NCAA rules," Strack said. Strack's reference to "three sisters" is unclear. Family members and court records in Houston agree there are only two sisters in the family. The husband of one sister said his wife hasn't visited Tucson for several years. Although the other sister has a son who played under Mason at the University of Cincinnati, he never graduated from college and hasn't been to Tucson for years, according to his father. A college degree is a prerequisite for a graduate assistant's job. The Houston woman's former husband, who divorced her in the mid-1960s and reared their children, said the son has had no interest in coaching since quitting the Cincinnati team after the 1975 season. Houston attorney Raeburn Norris, contacted by reporters, said, he had represented all of the family for 20 years and knew of only one family member whose name would match the ones found on UA records, "and she's not a football player." At the Star's request, university officials examined the visits of several other persons flown in as recruits, including

252 one person brought from Toronto. Strack identified the traveler as a man who had "helped us in our public relations." Part of the $180.49 university-paid bill at the Doubletree Inn for the Toronto visitor's three-night stay — June 12-14, 1 979 — was not authorized, Strack added, specifying a $66.74 purchase in the hotel's gift shop. "I do not know whether this $66.74 item was actually paid," he said. "If it was, it should not have been, but administrative errors can occur and I will have to check further before I can give you any final information on this matter." University records show Mason approved the Toronto visitor's stay at the Doubletree, along with a $423 round-trip flight. Notations apparently in Mason's handwriting list the person as a recruit on both the travel-agency and hotel billings. University officials also were asked to determine whether three other persons flown in as recruits from Louisville, Ky., Chicago and Denver are actually recruits. Their names did not appear within a Big Ten Conference computer listing of players who signed National Letters of Intent last year, nor in newspaper libraries in their locales. Most heavily recruited players sign the letter of intent when they decide to play football for a particular school. The Star has made repeated efforts since Dec. 12, both in person and by mail and telephone, to set up an interview with Mason on the recruiting matters. But he said Fiesta Bowl preparations and the press of other post-season coaching and recruiting chores would prevent personal interviews. In a Dec. 18 letter to the Star, Mason asked the newspaper to submit written questions. Mason left for Honolulu and Tokyo early this month on a coaching assignment for last night's Japan Bowl. UA President John P. Schaefer has referred the Star's inquiries to Strack. On Dec. 27, Strack and attorney Stanley G. Feldman, representing the university, met with reporters who presented a letter addressed to Mason containing a number of questions. Strack has responded in letters, but attempts by reporters to interview him about discrepancies and apparent maccuracies in his Dec. 28 letter were unsuccessful.

253 "I'm really not anxious to talk to you guys anymore, OK?" Strack said Jan. 2 in a telephone conversation with a reporter. "I just feel that ... I've got to get back with people to find out just what rights I have in this thing." Told that the Star considered his written response incomplete answers for the questions submitted to him, Strack said, "In my mind I answered them, OK?" Asked how long he's known about the university-paid flights for the non-recruits, Strack said, "Hey, hey! I told you that I'm not talking to you. If you have any complaints, send the information you've got to the NCAA, the Pacific 10 or the Board of Regents, OK?" But in a second letter to the Star two days later, Strack said he was "still proceeding to check into some of the (unanswered) matters...." In his first letter, Strack maintained that the recruiting monies in question were not "public funds" because they represented donations from the Wildcat Club booster organization. "The funds used were those contributed by football supporters for the purpose of assisting in the football program where it would not be proper to use public funds," he said. "The use of privately donated funds in the manner indicated ... does not appear to me to be contrary to the intentions of the donors or of NCAA rules. These funds are administered by the university." However, the Wildcat Club is a formal part of the university, according to UAVice President Robert A. Peterson. Also, the club's executive director, Bob Davis, is the athletic department's associate director whose salary is paid from funds appropriated by the Legislature. All of the donations paid to the club are deposited in university accounts administered by the university. "We don't have bylaws or a charter, as such, because we're just part of the athletic department," says Davis. "We're not anything separate, we're just like the track or sports information offices. We're an administrative office more than anything." Peterson, in charge of administrative services at the UA, said that once Wildcat Club money is deposited with the university it becomes public funds. While most of the Wildcat Club money is "unrestricted," meaning the athletic department has more flexibility in spending it than

254 is the case w i t h state-appropriated money or gifts given for specific purposes, there are still controls over how it is spent, said Peterson. "The assumption underlying the term

'unrestricted' is that it

(the money) will be used for the basic good of the university or its programs and not for the personal use of the official, a student or anybody else," he said. "Use of the money in a frivolous way or for a purpose that is clearly not related to the university, such as for the personal use of an administrative official or something like that, goes beyond even the terminology

'unrestricted.'"

NCAA officials say use of the university's money to reimburse or reward recruiters or their aides can violate the organization's regulations. Dave Berst, w h o heads the NCAA enforcement division, said regulations limit the number of paid personnel or coaches on universities' coaching

staffs.

"Although it's permissible for schools to have athletic representatives, the idea is that if you're going to use those people, then they become involved at their own expense and they contribute both time and their own money to do recruiting. "That's so that the school that has the m o s t money can't just hire additional people to work outside the institution,"

Berst

said. A n example of an improper university-paid trip is contained in the NCAA manual, w h i c h says it is a violation for a school to pay for the visit of a "friend or alumnus" who wants to familiarize himself w i t h the campus and the college's athletic programs to better represent the university in recruiting

athletes.

Because of NCAA regulations barring payments to recruiters and "athletic representatives," giving such people w h o assist in recruiting "thank-you" trips to Tucson is a "potential problem," said Berst. He said giving university-paid trips to recruiters who actually contact prospects would probably result in inquiries by the NCAA.

255

FROM SEATTLE (WASHINGTON) IN 1981 BY PAUL HENDERSON The Seattle

Paul

Henderson

(born

on

January

Times

13,

1939, in Washington,

D.C.)

graduated from high school at Wentworth M i l i t a r y A c a d e m y in Lexington, M o . , and attended Army in Korea from

junior college there. He served in the

1959 to 1962, and w a s a correspondent

First Cavalry Division newspaper and for Stare charged

from

Stripes.

Dis-

the A r m y , Henderson w a s hired for the Nonpareil

Council Bluffs, in Omaha,

and

for the

Neb.,

la. he

W h i l e working there and at the majored

in journalism

at

World-Herald.

the University

Nebraska at Omaha and at Creighton University in Omaha. came to the Seattle

Times

in 1967 where he worked

reporting positions, specializing

in

in

Henderson

in a variety

crime reporting,

of

of

features,

and investigations. In 1982 he earned the Pulitzer Prize for Local Reporting for articles published the year

before.

256 INNOCENT MAN WRONGLY CONVICTED OF A RAPE CASE

[Source: Paul Henderson: One man's battle to clear his name, in: The Seattle Times (Seattle, Wash.), Vol. 104/No. 135, May 15, 1981, p. D 1, cols. 1 - 4; p. D 2, cols. 1 - 3; reprinted by permission of the Seattle Times, Seattle, Wash.]

Description of the rapist: white male, 25 to 30, 6 feet tall, medium build. Full beard and shoulder-length, light-brown hair. Wearing a three-piece, cream-colored suit. Description of the car: royal-blue compact, possibly a 1980. Bucket seats with velvet covers. Temporary license plate displayed in the rear window. Beginning numbers 667 - or 776 -. Steve Gary Titus has been convicted of the crime. He is 31. He has a light-brown beard and medium-length hair. Titus is 5 feet 8 inches, and has a small frame. He drives a 1981 Chevette, light blue with vinyl bucket seats. Titus says that he does not even own a suit. License plates displayed on Titus' car now are permanent. But when he was arrested as a rape suspect by Port of Seattle police last year, Titus was driving a new car with a temporary paper license, pasted in the rear window. The six-digit number was 661 677. Relying heavily on those numerals and similarities in his car, plus the confidence of the victim when she identified him in court, a King County Superior Court jury on March 4 found Titus guilty of first-degree rape. He is to be sentenced on Monday. Now witness the tactics of a very desperate man. He has spent hours staking out the crime scene and watching for a car. Titus watches from the shoulder of Pacific Highway South. A light-blue Chevrolet Citation passes by, heading south with a bearded man behind the wheel. The driver also is wearing a tan suit and vest. Titus follows the car to Tacoma and parks out of sight on a residential street. He writes down the license number, then returns to his home. Titus later learns that the Citation could not be the car. It was not purchased until after the crime. "It's my life that's at stake. What else can I do?" Steve Titus says, explaining why he has labored nonstop since early March, spending countless hours and all his money, trying to prove it

257 was someone else who raped a 17-year-old girl on a secluded road south of Seattle-Tacoma Airport last October 12. Is all of this a charade, or is Titus an innocent man? Support for Titus comes from a small camp: Titus' mother and father; the woman he is engaged to marry; the lawyer who believes he was wrongly convicted, and a friend who provided crucial defense testimony during the trial. The friend, Kurt Schaefer, contends Titus could not have committed the crime because he was talking with him on the telephone, then sitting with Titus in the defendant's apartment, at the time the victim was being raped. Vowed Schaefer after the trial: "I will do everything that is possible to prove that Steve is innocent - even if it takes me years." Titus is facing a mandatory minimum term of three years in prison and a possible sentence of 20 years to life. Except for being cited for negligent driving in 1978, he never had been in trouble before. Tracking down a list of dealers supplied by the Department of Motor Vehicles, Titus tediously works his way through the yearly sales file of an auto agency on South Tacoma Way. The royal-blue compact he is looking for would have been purchased within the two-week period prior to October 12. Options on the car would have included velvet upholstered seats. A temporary license plate issued to the car would have numerals similar to his own. At 4 p.m. on a Friday, Titus runs out of time. He pays an office employee to continue searching through the weekend. She draws a blank. That leaves 24 dealers to go. The victim told police she was hitchhiking on Pacific Highway South when she got into the rapist's car. He told her he was going to Tacoma. Instead he turned off on South 208th Street and headed down the hill. He turned again on 22nd Avenue South. Then the rapist pulled into a narrow dirt lane leading to the foundation of a demolished house. It was there that the acts took place, the victim said, in a no-man's land, south of the airport, where houses have been condemned. He told her he had a knife and ordered her to undress. The

258 weapon that he held to her throat appeared to be a screwdriver, the victim told police. Oral sodomy was the first demand. Vaginal intercourse followed. Then the rapist told the victim to dress, stand outside the car and wait for him to leave. He backed out of the lane and disappeared into the night. She ran for help and found lights burning in a house at the end of the road. The crime occurred on land under jurisdiction of Port of Seattle police. A call to port police from the house at the end of 22nd Avenue South was logged at 7 : 22 p.m. Four officers responded. Police who found the victim there said she was crying, but that her clothing appeared in order and that there were no marks to indicate a violent assault. The victim guided police to the crime scene. In her report, Officer Diane Lathrop said the victim "pointed out the exact location where the suspect vehicle had parked." Lathrop also noted there were "fresh tire tracks where the vehicle would have traveled." While several officers remained at the scene, Lathrop drove the victim to a hospital for tests. Detective Ronald Parker was called from home to conduct a search for evidence at the scene and to conduct the investigation. Parker's supervisor, Sgt. Dave Hart, acknowledged to The Times that Parker had limited experience as a detective prior to the case. On the theory that the rapist was familiar enough with the area to live nearby, Parker and other officers began cruising through parking lots along Pacific Highway South, looking for his car. Detective Parker and Officer Robert Jensen found Titus' Chevette at 1 : 20 a.m. It was parked outside the Raintree Restaurant and Lounge, 19815 Pacific Highway S., where Titus and his fiancee, Mona Imholt, had stopped for a drink. The victim had given police another clue to the rapist's car. She recalled seeing a "necklace or garters" hanging from the rearview mirror. A bunny-emblazoned Playboy air freshener was what police saw hanging in the front seat of Titus' car. Documents and reports that trace both the police work and the trial are stacked on the kitchen table in Titus' Kent apartment. He has memorized most of them. It is almost midnight, and with his

259

The Crime-Lab Report/ Where was the victim? " " " "

W A S H I N G T O N STATE PA iifuu

Kington " ^ T E R N WASHINGTON STATE CRIME LABORATORY WESTERN WAb R e ( e r e t K e : Laboratory No.. r e p 0 R T Agency:

Port of Seattle Police Department

»»»«*'

a** A*.' Partie r

^

^

^

Spedalltts from th· slat· crinw laboratory told th· Jury they found no evidence that the rap· victim waa In Tltua' car. T l r · tracks found at th· ac«n· did not match his car. [Source: The Seattle

Times,

May 15, 1981, p. D 1.]

fiancee at his side, Titus is deep into analysis - comparing one officer's report against another's. Titus has compiled a 70-point list of discrepancies in the case. But the prosecutor's office has told him that there must be new evidence to warrant a new trial. Port police were waiting out of sight when Titus and Imholt emerged from the bar. Titus was southbound on Pacific Highway South, heading for Kent, when the flashing lights were turned on. Titus and his fiancee were questioned separately outside the car. Titus consented to have his Chevette searched for evidence. He also agreed to be photographed. Front and profile photographs taken of Titus that night at port-police offices at the airport show him smiling, appearing unconcerned. Joking with police, Titus asked if he and his fiancee could have their pictures taken together. Officers complied. Titus and Imholt then left. Police noted that Titus was both polite and cooperative on the night he was stopped. That same night, Detective Parker went through the department's mug-shot file and compiled a montage of six bearded men, including Titus. At Parker's request, patrol officer Scott Pierson took photographs of the interior and the exterior of Titus' car, including the tires. Both men then returned to the crime scene to photograph tire marks left on the lane. Titus was picked out by the victim the following day.

260 At her mother's home in Tacoma, she studied the montage for several minutes before pointing to the shots of Titus. "This one is the closest one· It has to be this one," she told police. Titus' Chevette was a company car owned by his employer, the Yegen Seafood Corp., franchisee for Ivar's Seafood Bars. As district manager for the company, Titus supervised some 100 employees at 17 seafood outlets. Titus was at the company's offices at Southcenter on October 14, two days after the rape, when he was arrested by port police and led away in handcuffs. Police also seized his car. In a police-interview room at the airport that afternoon, without an attorney present, Titus voluntarily gave Detective Parker and Officer Robert Jensen a statement explaining his whereabouts at the time of the rape. The statement was not recorded, nor did the officers take any notes. Parker did not put Titus' statement into writing until two days before the trial, more than four months later. Titus accuses the detective of falsifying the part of that statement most crucial to his defense. According to Parker, Titus said he spent the afternoon of Sunday, October 12, at his parents' home on South 150th Street, just off Pacific Highway about 2 miles north of Sea-Tac. There was a birthday party for his father, David Titus. Titus left there for the Cornstock Apartments in Kent at 6 : 10 p.m. and followed the logical route: south on Pacific Highway to Highway 518; east on 518 to Interstate 5; south on 1-5 to the Kent-Des Moines Road, and east on the Kent-Des Moines Road into Kent. He arrived home at 6 : 55 p.m. That is Parker's version of the Titus statement. Titus says two things are wrong. He says he did not drive south on Interstate 5, but rather continued east into Renton and drove south to Kent from there. That is not crucial, but the time of arrival is. Titus insists that he told Parker he reached his apartment at 6 : 30 p.m., not 6 : 55. And he points out that it is only a 15- to 20-minute drive to the apartment from his parents' home. Officer Jensen, who took the statement with Parker, says he does not remember the time Titus gave.

261 Evidence against Steve Titus was reviewed by the special assault unit of the prosecutor's office. Titus agreed to a deal. If he passed a polygraph examination, the charge would be dropped. If he failed the polygraph, he would go to trial. The results, however, could not be used against him in court. The lie-detector test was given by Dewey Gillespie, a former Seattle police polygraph specialist now in private practice. He reported that Titus failed. But there was better news for Titus going into trial. The Western Washington State Crime Laboratory had determined that tire tracks found at the rape scene did not come from his car. Titus is running out of time and no new evidence has turned up. If Kurt Schaefer's testimony could be substantiated by a polygraph, maybe they would listen to him then. But the polygraph examination costs $175 and Titus has no money left. His trial lawyer charged $5,000 and the appeal attorney's fee is double that. Bail bond to remain free until sentencing required $2,500 cash. A private detective charged $1,200 and turned up nothing. Although Titus' employer expresses faith in his innocence, he was terminated from the company on May 1 because of an inability to cope with the job. Titus now is hopelessly in debt. But credit is extended, and Kurt Schaefer takes the test. In the photo montage compiled by Detective Parker, both pictures of Titus are smaller than the five other pairs of pictures. Titus also stands out on the sheet because, in contrast to the other subjects, there is no dark-line border between his front and profile shot. In a pre-trial hearing, Titus' attorney, Thomas Hillier, argued that the montage should be suppressed as being "suggestive." Judge Frank Howard denied the motion, saying the jury should decide. Titus' trial opened on February 25 in the courtroom of Judge Charles V. Johnson. As his first witness, Deputy Prosecutor Chris Washington called Diane Butts, a friend of the rape victim who works as a waitress at the Red Lion Inn on Pacific Highway South. Police reports show that in an interview with officers on the night of the rape, Butts told officers that the victim left her in the Red Lion Coffee Shop at 7 p.m.

262 On the stand, however, Butts rolled back that time to 6 : 20 p.m. The Victim originally told police she was picked up by the rapist at 6 : 45 p.m. In court, however, she testified that it was 6 : 30 p.m. Nothing appears in the port's investigative file to support either change of time. "Do you recognize these pictures?" Washington asked the victim, showing her the montage. "And do you recognize the person who raped you on October 12?" She viewed the montage and said that she did. "Do you see this person in the courtroom?" he prosecutor asked. "Yes," the victim replied, pointing to Titus. Washington then asked the victim to step down, walk toward the defense table and get as close to Titus as she was on the night she was raped. Before reaching Titus, the victim broke into tears. Hillier objected on grounds the prosecution had used a prejudicial tactic against the defendant. The objection was overruled by the judge. License-plate numbers played an important role in the trial, with the prosecution attempting to show that the beginning numerals the victim had seen on the rapist's car and those on Titus' vehicle were too close to be a coincidence T In court, the victim moved them even closer, changing 667 to 677. Six-seven-seven were the ending numerals on Titus' temporary plate. An expert witness from the State Department of Licensing was called by the defense to explain that there could be similar temporary license numbers on newly purchased cars. Temporary stickers, he said, are issued by series each month to dealers and county auditors across the state. In the months of September and October last year, all temporary plates issued from Olympia began with the numbers 66. It was not brought out in court that a block of 1,000 plates beginning with the numerical sequence 667 had been mailed to the auditor of Benton County in late September. Another block of plates bearing the sequence 677 had been distributed among 25 car dealers in Pierce County about the same time.

263 Although they were called by the prosecution, specialists from the state crime laboratory told the jury they found no evidence that the rape victim had been in Titus' car. Port police had lifted 18 fingerprints from his Chevette. A criminalist testified that none were from the victim. Police also had cut out sections of blue vinyl upholstery from the seats in hopes of finding seminal stains. That also proved negative. Microscopic analysis showed that hair fibers gleanded from inside the car were dissimilar to those of the victim. Nor did clothing fibers recovered from Titus' car match what the victim was wearing the night of the rape. A criminalist testified that nunmerous head hairs were recovered from a blue sweater worn by the victim. Although a single red mustache hair or beard hair found on the sweater had some characteristics similar to those of Titus, the hair was the wrong color to have come from the defendant, the criminalist said. Police reports from the night of October 12 indicate confidence the tire tracks left at the scene were from the assailant's car. Taking the stand, Detektive Parker, however, told the jury that the evidence he photographed had been a mistake. Parker said he found this out by returning to the crime scene with the victim on the opening day of the trial. Parker said the victim recalled the rapist drove straight in and backed straight out. The detective then disclosed that the tracks he photographed "made a turn to the right." In their reports, no other officers who viewed the crime scene noted tire tracks turning to the right. No weapon matching what the victim had described, possibly a screwdriver, was found in Titus' car. However, the prosecution contended that a black-felt pen that police had found in the well between the front passenger's seat and the door could have been what the rapist held to the victim's throat. Titus contends that Parker lied about other evidence he said he found in the car. The victim had told officers of seeing a brown-vinyl binder with straps on the rear seat of the rapist's car. Parker testified to the jury that he saw exactly the same thing in the Chevette on the night Titus was pulled over.

264 No binder is mentioned in the report written by Officer Scott Pierson, who also took credit for searching Titus* car. Pierson*s report lists what he saw in the vehicle: "a white Playboy bunny insignia hanging from the rear-view mirror ... a felt-type pen lying on the passenger-side floor ... a metal-type display rack lying in the trunk area behind the back seat ... two unused cigarets lying under the passenger-side bucket seat." Pierson refused to talk with a reporter concerning evidence he saw in the vehicle. Under questioning this week by his supervisor, however, the officer denied searching Titus' car, explaining that he did little more than "look into the vehicle." Pierson also failed to acknowledge to his supervisor that he photographed the interior of the car. Titus' lawyer entered into evidence a telephone bill showing that a long-distance call was made from Titus' apartment to his fiancee in Tacoma at 7 p.m. on the night of the rape. Titus told the jury he arrived at his apartment on the Kent-Kangley Road at 6:30 p.m. and that the telephone was ringing inside when he reached the front door. Titus testified that he had expected a call from Kurt Schaefer because he had made previous plans to meet with Schaefer that afternoon and was running late. When he picked up the phone, the line was dead. Titus said he then called Schaefer to tell him he was home. Schaefer, who lives in the same apartment complex, appeared at the foor within 10 or 15 minutes - no later than 6:50 p.m., Titus testified. Schaefer's testimony was the same. He said he had been in Titus' apartment for at least 10 minutes before Titus made the longdistance call at 7 p.m. They remained in the apartment for several hours, both Titus and Schaefer testified, watching "Superman" on cable TV much of the time. They said Titus left at about 9:20 p.m. to pick up Mona Imholt at a Denny's restaurant south of Tacoma, where she is a waitress. With testimony placing Titus in his apartment at the time of the rape, how could the jury have believed him to have been some 8 miles away? "We didn't think that Kurt Schaefer was sure about his times," one of the jurors explained to a reporter.

265 Determined to prove that he was telling the truth, Schaefer last week voluntarily submitted to his own polygraph test. It was administered by Poth & Associates. Schaefer passed. The three-piece suit worn by the rapist was a crucial point in Titus' defense. Both Titus' father and his brother, Alan Titus, testified that the defendant was wearing dark slacks, a dark sweater and a green shirt when he left the birthday party. Even if Titus owned a three-piece suit, his lawyer argued, what purpose would have been

Airport

The sketch above illustrates the scene of the rape. The victim told police she ran north after the rape. This took her up a shallow hill, where she would have seen the lights shining from the Liston house, the only lights in the neighborhood which has been cleared by the airport. At right: landmarks and a disputed drive home. Steve Titus left his parents' home (at top), but there the stories diverge. Titus says he took route A; police quoted him as saying he took route B. Titus says the police lied. Also noted is the scerw where the victim was allegedly picked-up while hitchhiking after leaving a friend at the Red Lion inn. She first told police she was abducted from in front of the Bull Pen Tavern: at the trial, she moved the site a half-mile north to the Sandstone Motel). [Source:

The Seattle

Times,

May 2 9 ,

1981, p .

C 1.]

266 served in changing his clothes? Titus, in fact, w o u l d not have had the time to change, Hillier

said.

In his closing arguments, the prosecutor told the jury it would have taken an "incredible coincidence" for there to have been another car. Hillier told the jury that Port of Seattle police built their case around an innocent m a n and failed to look beyond. Jurors deliberated for 12 hours. O n the first two ballots, they v o t e d 8 to 4 for acquittal. On the third ballot the split w a s 7 to 5, still leaning toward acquittal. Two hours later, on the fourth and final ballot, they had agreed on Titus' guilt. Port Police Chief Neil Moloney last m o n t h ordered the departm e n t ' s senior investigators to reopen the Titus case because of questions raised by The Times. A t the same time, the prosecutor's office agreed to review legal aspects of the case. This gained Steve Titus a month's postponement in his sentencing date. But little else in his favor resulted from reviews of the case. Port police said they found nothing out of order in their investigation. The prosecutor's office said senior deputies w h o reviewed the case detected no irregularities. But Thomas Hillier calls the v e r d i c t a travesty of justice. "The jury didn't understand, and I can't understand why," the defense attorney said. "We essentially blew them o u t of court. But we took the nice-guy approach, and m a y b e we should have p l a y e d rough. "I lie awake at night dwelling on this case. The rest of us can w a l k away front it. But Steve Titus can't."

267

FROM WASHINGTON (DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA) IN 1982 BY LORETTA TOFANI The Washington

Loretta Tofani

Post

(born on February 5, 1953, in New York City) grew

up in New York City and Yonkers, N.Y. She earned a B.A. degree in 1975 from Fordham University

in

the Bronx

and

received an M.A.

diploma in journalism from the University of California at Berkeley. At Fordham, Tofani was editor-in-chief of the college newspaper, The Ram. She

worked

each summer between

reporter for the News-Sentinel and Chronicle

in Rochester,

the

college years as a

in Knoxville, Tenn., the

N.Y.,

and the United Press

Democrat Interna-

tional in Portland, Or., New York City, and Los Angeles, Cal. In 1 978 she moved to the Was hing ton

Post where she covered the police,

the local government and courts. Her stories brought her a number of prizes, including the Mark Twain Award and the Washington Monthly national journalism award. In 1983 she received the Pulitzer Prize for Local Reporting for articles published in the previous year.

268 RAPES AND VIOLENT SEXUAL ASSAULTS

IN A COUNTY J A I L

[Source: Loretta Tofani: Terror behind bars. Most victims of the sexual attacks are legally innocent, in: The Washington Post (Washington, D.C.), 105th Year/No. 295, September 26, 1982, p. A 1, cols. 4 - 6; p. A 18, cols. 1 - 6; p. A 19, cols. 1 - 6 ; reprinted by permission of the Washington Post, Washington, D.C.]

Kevin Parrish, a 20-year-old student from Upper Marlboro, was arrested on a drunk driving charge at 3 a.m., Feb. 20 and taken to the Prince George's County Detention Center. He was to wait there for a few hours, until his mother could arrive with $50 to bail him out. But his mother came too late. While Parrish was behind bars, two inmates grabbed him and shoved him into a cell, out of sight of the guards. For 10 minutes, they slugged him in the stomach and beat him on the face. Then one of them exposed himself, tore Parrish's pants, and demanded that Parrish give him and four of his friends oral sex. When it was all over, Parrish went to the jail's medic with blood pouring from his face, arms and chest. His nose was broken and he had two black eyes. An hour later, about noon, his mother paid the bail bondsman and Parrish was released. While detention center officials believe there are fewer than 10 rapes a year among male inmates in their Upper Marlboro institution, rapes and violent sexual assaults such as the one Parrish experienced occur much more frequently, according to a number of guards and inmates. In on-the-record interviews, 10 guards, 60 inmates and one jail medical worker said there are approximately a dozen incidents of forced sex each week in the jail for men and women awaiting trial or sentencing. The victims of these violent acts are, of course, in custody at the time, but most are legally innocent citizens. About 70 percent of the jail's 450 inmates are awaiting trial, some on such charges as drunken driving, shoplifting and trespassing. They are in jail because they do not have enough money to post

269 bond or have not been able to contact a bail bondsman - during the weekend or at night - and they are easy prey. The problem of jail rapes is so well known that judges sometimes put men they consider vulnerable on probation rather than send them to the jail after they are convicted. "This is the kind of thing that's so bad you shut your mind to it," says Prince George's County Circuit Court Judge Vincent Femia. "It's easier to blot it out than to come to grips with the fact that it's happening in our own society." According to guards and inmates, rapes and sexual assault cases in the county jail share certain characteristics: • They occur in cells out of sight of any guard. Before the assaults, inmates make sure cell bars are covered with newspapers and turn up their radios. Even when a victim screams for help, guards often do not respond until it is too late. Guards do not patrol the cells for hours at a time. • They are gang rapes, in which three or four men typically approach an inmate and kick, beat and punch him. Then they force sex on him. About two cases per week involve anal penetration, the rest oral sex. • The rapes are particularly violent. In one case, rapists admitted to jamming a toilet bowl brush and toothbrush into the rectum of their victim. Some beatings have been so vicious that victims have been taken to Prince George's General Hospital with broken ribs, broken bones and punctured lungs. • Many of the rapists are charged with or convicted of murder or armed robbery and are placed in cell blocks with those awaiting trial on nonviolent charges. • The rapists are usually heterosexual; many have wives and children. In almost all cases, the victims also are heterosexual. • The victims normally do not press charges against their attackers. Even in cases where rape victims say they wanted to, they say guards or police discouraged them from doing so. As a result, the rapists rarely are punished. It is not known whether the rape problems in the Prince George's County jail are more or less serious than in other jails throughout the country. Few people have studied the problem of jail rapes; those who have studied it tend to produce many more theories than facts. Perhaps as a result, the problem of jail

270 rape is not a public issue; only rarely is it even a topic of discussion at conventions for jail officials, according to penologists. Yet it is a problem with serious consequences. Men who were raped in the county jail say the experiences left them shocked, disoriented and unable to concentrate on their upcoming trials. Of 15 victims who were interviewed, three were later treated in mental institutions. "It was like I needed someone to take my hand and guide me," said victim Gary McNamara of his reactions after his rape. "I've never been like that before. I've always known what to do." The inmates who escape rape often do so by behaving much more violently in the jail than they normally do. After months of such behavior, they said in interviews, they became capable of committing crimes that were far more serious than the ones that sent them to jail. The rapists offer different motives for their actions. "It's more a violence thing than a sex thing," explained Francis Harper, a convict who admits to raping three men in the jail. "When they cage a person, it makes a person real bitter and angry, and you don't know exactly who you're angry at. So you have these feelings and you take them out on somebody else." On the surface, it may appear that race is a factor, but the rapists suggest that color masks the real issue: Those who learn to act violently on the streets - black or white - continue to act violently in jail, raping men who are not used to defending themselves. The director of the Prince George's County Detention Center, Arnett Gaston, says that rapes and sexual assaults occur in his jail, but he believes that estimates of 12 a week are an exaggeration. He said he knows that eight rapes occurred last year and six the previous year. "If you remove some of the emotionality that surrounds this issue, you'll see it's not a serious problem," Gaston said in an interview. One reason Gaston may think there are so few rapes, according to guards, inmates and a jail medical worker, is that the vast majority of jail rapes and sexual assaults are not reported. Some former inmates said in interviews that they raped a number of men in the county jail who never reported the rapes. Some

271

victims said that they did not tell guards about their plight because they believed that the guards could not protect them from retaliation by the rapists or the rapists' friends; other former inmates said that they had witnessed rapes and sexual assaults that were not reported to guards. Even when rape victims tell guards or medical technicians that they were raped or sexually assaulted, the jail does not consider their cases "reported" unless the victim presses charges or unless there is clear medical evidence, according to jail spokesman Jim O'Neill. Guards say they know the rapes and sexual assaults occur in large numbers because many of the fights they see or hear about involve sexual violence. In interviews, 10 current or former guards and a jail medical worker said they have come to accept that rape is a normal part of life in the detention center. "At first it shocks you, but then after a while it's just another rape," said one current guard, Gerry Giovinazzo. "Even though you don't like it to happen, you get used to it because it happens all the time." Guards say they are unable to protect inmates from rapes be-cause the poorly designed jail makes it impossible for guards to see into most cells from their watch posts. The guards say they could minimize that problem by patrolling the cells more often than once every eight hours, but that there aren't enough of them to do that. Also, they say, there would be fewer rapes and sexual assaults if inmates had individual cells. Because of overcrowding, they say, most of the cells are left unlocked to give inmates room to move about. On each of the three shifts, 15 guards watch 400 male inmates. (The jail grounds also house about 25 men on work release and about 25 women. The exact numbers change daily.) Ten guards watch the inmates on a constant basis from the control booths, where they can see into common areas but not into the cells where most rapes occur. The other five roam the corridors of the jail, transporting inmates and responding to emergencies. A total of 150 guards work at the jail, but many of them perform administrative duties and do not guard inmates.

272 The guards, who work alone, say that even when they are aware of rapes in progress they cannot protect the victims because they are afraid for their own safety. "Being alone, seeing a situation where you have several angry inmates, they (the guards) kind of wait until they get backup and by then whatever is transpiring is over with," says Maj. Gerald Rice, who was the jail's security director until last year and still works there. Jail employes aren't the only ones in the justice system who recognize jail rapes as a way of life. Judges, prosecutors and defense lawyers in Prince George's County say they are aware that inmates are often raped at the county jail. "One of the reasons you shouldn't break the law is that you get raped in that jail," says Prince George's Circuit Court Judge David Ross, a highly regarded juvenile court judge and a former delegate to the Maryland legislature. As the following six cases illustrate, rapes occur because guards aren't around or don't respond to cries for help, or simply feel unable to help because there aren't enough of them and their view of the cells is limited. THE COOK Tyrone Blair, 26, a restaurant cook who lives with his sister and brother-in-law in Hillcrest Heights, got into an argument on Nov. 6, 1981, with his brother-in-law, Robert Lee McKnight. As a result, McKnight put Blair out of the house and Blair threw a rock through McKnight's living-room window, shattering it, according to court documents. McKnight called police, and Blair was charged with malicious destruction of property. When Blair failed to show up for his trial, he was sent to jail in lieu of $2,500 bond. On Jan. 8, two days after Blair entered the jail, he was moved to section 2B. One hour after he entered the cell block, around 2 p.m., he was raped just a few yards from the guard, whose view was blocked by the position of the cell and by newspapers that were stuck to the bars with toothpaste.. Jail director Arnett Gaston refused to allow the guard to speak to a reporter.

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274 Blair's account of the rape was corroborated in interviews with the men who he said raped him, William Daniels, 22, and Perry Edon, 30. Daniels, from Bladensburg, was charged with first-degree murder and armed robbery and is now serving a life-plus-eightyear sentence for those crimes at the Maryland Penitentiary in Baltimore. The other man, Perry Edon, 30, of Northeast Washington, was serving a 90-day sentence for failure to provide child support. Edon said that he raped Blair because he felt that he had to go along with Daniels or he would be raped himself. According to Blair and his attackers, this is how the rape occurred: Soon after Blair entered the cellblock, Daniels "hit me real hard on my face." Blair, who is short and slim, hit him back. But he was overpowered by Daniels, who grabbed him and forced him into a cell. Inside the cell, Daniels threatened him with a "shank," a knife made in jail, and demanded that he perform oral sex. Blair, who says he was frightened, followed Daniels' directions. "He gave it up," said Daniels. Meanwhile, Edon was standing in front of the cell, blocking Blair's exit. When Daniels walked out of the cell, Edon stepped in. "We just took turns on him," Edon said. "He was weak and we took advantage of him.... I gave him the impression that he had to do it or I'd take his teeth out. I feel bad about it today and I felt bad while he (Blair) was doing it. But I was in jail so I had to put on another image." Blair's rape was reported to a guard by a youth who witnessed it, according to Blair and his attackers. Two hours after the youth reported the rape, the guards removed Blair from the section. Blair says he initially wanted to bring charges against the rapists, but he felt he was discouraged from doing so by the county police detective who interviewed him. "He said this guy's in there for life already, and he has other charges from D.C. too," Blair said.

275 The sex squad detective denied making the remark. "I wouldn't have told him that," the detective said. No charges were brought in the case. Blair's rape is not included in the jail's list of rapes even though he reported it to a guard, who recorded the incident in an official report. Nearly a month later, on Feb. 1, Tyrone Blair pleaded guilty to destroying his brother-in-law's living room window. District Court Judge Thomas Brooks gave him a suspended sentence. Blair feels as though he is still being punished. "Sometimes I have nightmares about it or if I sit and watch TV I think about it," he says. "Then I get up and talk to someone or do something to try to get my mind off it." The rape also has made Blair question his sexual identity. His former girlfriend, who at one point did not know about the rape, called him a "punk" during an argument and, "It made me feel like maybe she had seen something about me, like maybe the rape had changed me," he says. They subsequently broke up. Blair has made amends with his brother-in-law. THE WAITER

Ronald Fridge, 18, a waiter from Riverdale, got into an argument with his landlady on Nov. 17, 1980, over his $220-amonth rent. After shouting at her in the hallway, he stormed out of the rooming house. The landlady then, according to court documents, found that a window in his room was broken and the window frame battered. She phoned police, who arrested Fridge three hours later and charged him with malicious destruction of property. Fridge was acquitted in a trial before District Court Judge Francis A. Borelli on Jan. 5, 1981. One week before his acquittal, while in the Prince George's County Detention Center, Fridge says he was raped. His account of the rape was corroborated by a former jail inmate, Gerald Frost, 23, of Oxon Hill, who said during an interview with a reporter that he helped another man rape Fridge.

276 Frost was awaiting trial on a charge of robbery at the time; the other man's charges could not be determined. The rape occurred on the third floor of the jail, in the "upper right" section. Most inmates in the section were free to roam in and out of the cells. Fridge, however, had been in a locked cell because he had been beaten earlier by inmates, but a guard unlocked his cell shortly before the rape, according to Fridge and Frost. By their accounts, no one was at the guard's desk at the time of the rape. Jail spokesman Jim O'Neill would not identify the guard who was on duty there at the time. According to Fridge, the two rapists grabbed him in a cell, beat him on his face and chest, and raped him anally. "I had blue marks all over my skin," said Fridge. Says Frost, the man who admits to helping rape Fridge: "The first time, my buddy grabbed three magazines, rolled them and started slapping him

(Fridge). I was laughing because it was

funny to me. Then I hit Fridge with a tray and he fell on his knees. My buddy said, 'We're going to bang him.' I said no but he did it to him, on the bunk." Hours later, when the guard returned to the cell block, Fridge reported the rape and asked to be moved to another section, he says. But he wasn't moved until two days later, according to jail records, when Fridge says he complained again. In the meantime, he says he was raped again and again. At the jail, Fridge's rape is not on the list of reported rapes. There is a record of the incident, however. Fridge is still angry. "Can you imagine going to jail for nothing and going through all that?" he asks. "I have nightmares about it. It makes you lose your mind." THE

REPAIRMAN

Gary McNamara says that he had been in the jail in Upper Marlboro for only one week after his arrest on Nov. 26, 1981, when he was suddenly awakened by a pillow stuffed against his face. Seconds later he felt hands grabbing his

arms and legs

and his naked body was lifted, dropped and pressed against the cold floor.

277 McNamara, a 27-year-old Bowie resident who is an air conditioner repairman, was awaiting trial on charges of stealing

some

jewelry from a department store. He says he did not steal the jewelry. He has not yet gone to trial. He recalls that when he hit the floor, someone sat on his back and other people pinned down his arms and legs. A towel was thrown around his mouth and yanked tight at the back of his head. While he struggled, his stomach scraped the floor. All the while, he could hear his assailants

laughing.

"I felt something, I think it was a fist, shoved inside of me," says McNamara. "I felt sheer terror." He had been assigned to the 3D area with about 35 other

inmates,

most of whom had been charged with armed robbery or murder, according to jail guards. McNamara's cell was a few feet from the guard. During the rape, however, the guard could not see into McNamara's cell because inmates had draped the entrance to the cell with black plastic trash bags, according to McNamara. After the rape, McNamara says, he stayed in his bunk for hours, stunned. Finally, he wrote a note, got up, and slipped it to the guard, who was sitting in a glass booth nearby. "I am having a problem. I wish to be transferred," the note said, according to Sgt. Cindy Barry, a jail

supervisor.

McNamara said he did not tell the guard

he had been raped be-

cause he was afraid that the inmates would harm him if they found out he had

"snitched."

Soon after McNamara turned in the note, the guard escorted him downstairs to the classification section, where McNamara told jail counselor Al Cohen that he had been assaulted and wanted to move to a different section. Cohen, who did not ask for details, agreed to move him that day, according to jail spokesman Jim O'Neill. About a week later, McNamara visited the jail medical

tech-

nician, a man who has less training than a registered nurse, but McNamara did not tell him he had been raped. "I was afraid it would get back to them," he said, referring to the men who raped him. McNamara says that he told the medical technician that he had received some black and blue marks from an assault the previous

278

week, but the technician did not ask to see the marks, which were on his back and legs. McNamara says he does not know the identities of the men who raped him. At the jail, there is no record that he was raped. THE

SALESMAN

Lance Estes Purdy, 32, an auto parts salesman from New Carrollton, was arrested Nov. 5 after stabbing 20-year-old Brian Trimble in the stomach when Trimble got on Purdy's motorcycle. Purdy, who had never been arrested before, was jailed without bond while awaiting trial. On Nov. 6, Purdy was put in a section of the jail known as 3A with about 30 inmates who had been charged with or convicted of murder. One hour later, around 11 p.m., Purdy was raped by five inmates and was brutally beaten. His rape was confirmed by the jail medic and by physicians at Prince George's General Hospital. This is how Purdy describes what happened to him: "I lit up a cigarette and someone said I had to go into a cell if I wanted to smoke. So I went into a side cell and sat down on a bunk to smoke. Then four or five of them came up to me and hit me in the face with their fists. They told me to roll over. I yelled for the guard and they started kicking me. They banged my head against the wall, tore my clothes off and all of them raped me. It went on for about a half hour." The guard, who was sitting in a glass booth just a few feet from the cell where Purdy was raped, phoned for help. He no longer works at the jail and could not be reached for comment. Minutes after the rape, several guards ran into 3A and found Purdy naked on the floor of the cell. Blood was pouring from his face and chest. Purdy was taken to the medic's office in the jail, where medical technician James Proffitt confirmed that he had been raped, according to medical records. Then Purdy was taken to Prince George's General Hospital, where his injuries were diagnosed as a punctured lung, a broken rib and a black eye as a result of the beating he suffered during the rape, according to hospital medical records. He underwent surgery for the punctured lung and spent nine days in the hospital.

279 Purdy was able to identify only one of his assailants. He originally wanted to press charges, but later changed his mind, according to a state's attorney. The charge against Purdy was reduced from assault with intent to commit murder to malicious stabbing, and he pleaded guilty in February. On March 29, he was sentenced to five years' probation by Circuit Court Judge Jacob S. Levin. Purdy is now at home, working part time. Today, he thinks of his real sentence as the rape, rather than the probation. "I've been dazed since then," he says. "I lose my train of thought a lot. Sometimes someone will talk to me and it's like they're waking me back to reality." THE STUDENT

Parrish, the 20-year-old student who was charged with drunken driving, was in jail cellblock 1A less than one hour when he was sexually assaulted. He was standing in the common area of the cellblock when an inmate first pushed him into a cell out of the guard's view. Two of the men whom Parrish identified as his assailants confirmed Parrish's account. Clifton Tucker, 19, a convicted armed robber who was in the county jail awaiting a judge's reconsideration of his sentence, said that he hit Parrish "in the stomach and he lost his wind. Then I hit him on the nose and broke his nose." Tim Lipscomb, 22, who was awaiting trial on an armed robbery charge, said if Parrish had not escaped from them he would have been forced to perform oral sex with Tucker and "six dudes besides him." At one point during the beating, Parrish managed to push his way out of the cell so that the guard could see him. But the guard, according to Parrish, Tucker and Lipscomb, was asleep. "He (the guard) was kicked back in his chair and his feet were up on the desk," said Tucker. "If he was awake he would have seen him (Parrish)." Lipscomb says that he grabbed Parrish and threw him back into the cell. Then he and Tucker started beating Parrish again, demanding that he perform oral sex. Parrish refused. After several minutes, Parrish managed once again to bolt out of the

280 cell; he ran to the guard's booth and banged on the glass, screaming for help. "When he (the guard) woke up, he was in shock," said Tucker. "He picked up the red phone and started calling the other guards. They let Parrish out and then they came for us." The guard was not allowed to talk to a reporter about the incident. At the jail, there is no record that the guard was asleep. Parrish went to the jail medic, who cauterized his broken nose, put bandages on his wounds and wrote a medical record, according to Parrish and a man who works in the medical technician's office. "He was bleeding like a stuck pig," said the man who works in the jail medical office. "It wasn't dried blood; it was fresh blood." The jail has no medical record of Parrish's injuries, according to jail spokesman Jim O'Neill. At the jail, Parrish's case is listed as an assault rather than as an attempted rape. Parrish identified his assailants from mug shots supplied by they jail guards. At first, Parrish told the guards that he wanted to bring charges against his assailants. Then he changed his mind. "I was talking to this guard about bringing charges and he said, 'It's up to you; you do what you want. But if you come back here there's always the possibility that they'll retaliate against you.'" Parrish could not remember the name of the guard who he says made the remark. He says that he later told his mother about the guard's remark and she agreed with him

(the guard) that he

should not press charges. Minutes later, Parrish walked out of the jail and met his mother, who drove him home in the family station wagon. "I never thought something like that could happen to me," says Parrish. "But then I never thought I'd be in jail." Lipscomb said one reason for the assault was boredom. "There's nothing to do but play cards there," he said. "There's no recreation on the outside so you get recreation on the inside. Rape for rec."

281 THE

LIEUTENANT

The events leading to the rape of a 31-year-old graduate of the University of Maryland began in 1976 when he was a first lieutenant in the Air Force. While he was in Greenland, a U.S. military plane crashed, and the man led rescue workers in the gruesome six-day-long job of sifting through wreckage and identifying the 21 dead. The lieutenant was awarded a meritorious service medal for his efforts, according to a certificate signed by then-secretary of the Air Force Thomas C. Reed, but he suffered serious psychological damage including recurring nightmares and flashbacks that interrupted his ability to work. He was diagnosed as schizophrenic and put on the Air Force's temporary retirement list, according to a letter from Capt. Raymon E. Aldrich, director of personnel program actions. While the lieutenant was eating in the Plain and Fancy Donut Shop in Hyattsville on Dec. 22, he says his mind flashed back to the plane scene, and he imagined he was identifying dead bodies. He began throwing salt and pepper shakers and knocked over the cash register. "I was thinking I couldn't dig the dog tags out of their skin by myself," he said in an interview. "I was stuck in that time." Restaurant employes called police, and the man was arrested for disorderly conduct. He was taken to the Prince George's County Detention Center, where he was held for more than two months awaiting trial, although the charges against him eventually were dropped. The lieutenant says he was assaulted and raped twice while he was in jail. During an interview at the Veterans Administration Hospital in Perry Point, Md., the lieutenant told how the rapes occurred: On Feb. 24, around 2 p.m., while he was in the "cell block left" section of the jail, three inmates began assaulting him and taunting him. "I'd be sitting down and they'd take my legs and flip me over like a chicken," he said. "They'd say, 'We're going to f

you.' They were monsters."

The lieutenant says he complained to the guard that three inmates were trying to rape him. But the guard, who was sitting

282 about two yards away in the hallway, did not help him. "He told me that I had to defend myself," the lieutenant said. Jail spokesman Jim O'Neill said the guard could not remember anything about the incident. The lieutenant says that he did not feel he could defend himself against three inmates, so he went into a cell draped with newspaper. There, the inmates demanded that the man perform oral sex. He obliged. "I figured that would satisfy them," he said. "I went along with it because I didn't want to get hurt, get my teeth knocked out. One of them had calves this thick," he said, spreading his hands eight inches apart. It did not satisfy them - or at least not two of them, who pulled down the man's pants and forced anal sex with him. During an interview, one of the alleged rapists, Thomas Coates, 25, confirmed that both he and two other men forced the lieutenant to perform oral sex; in addition, Coates said, he and another man anally raped the lieutenant. Another men, Carroll Hawkins, 22, said that he was the "lookout man" for Coates during both rapes. "I watched out for the dude while he was doing it to him," Hawkins said. "As far as me having sex with the dude, not me." The third alleged rapist, now out of jail, could not be reached for comment. The lieutenant told a guard about the rape 11 hours after it happened. By then, there was a different guard at the watch post, and the inmates who raped him were asleep. The guard took him to the jail medical technician, who confirmed that he had been anally raped, according to jail medical records. The lieutenant says he signed a paper at the jail saying that he wanted to press charges against the rapists. But none was charged. "He said that he didn't want to press charges," said Sgt. Cindy Barry.

283

FROM ATLANTA (GEORGIA) IN 1983 BY KENNETH J, COOPER / STAN G R O S S F E L D / J O N A T H A N

KAUFMAN / NORMAN A.

L O C K M A N / G A R Y W. MCMILLAN / KIRK S C H A R F E N B E R G / D A V I D M. The Boston Kenneth J. Cooper received

a

Globe 11,

(born on December

1955,

in

Denver, Col.)

B.A. degree in English from Washington University in

St. Louis, Mo., in 1977. He worked for the St. Louis and the Rooky Mountain Boston

WESSEL

Globe

News

Post-Dispatch

in Denver, Col., before coming to the

in 1980. - Stan Grossfeld

(born on December 20, 1951,

in New York City) received a n M . A . degree in journalism from Boston University in 1980. He worked as a news photographer for the - Jonathan

Kaufman

1956,

in New York City) graduated from Yale University in 1978. for

the Wall Street

the South

China Morning

Post

(born

April 18,

Globe

He worked

since

1975.

Boston

in

on

Hong Kong and for

Journal in Chicago before joining the Boston

in 1982. - Norman A. Lockman

Globe

(born on July 11 , 1938, in West Ches-

ter, Pa.) attended Pennsylvania State University. Prior to coming to the Boston

Globe in late 1975, Lockman was the Washington cor-

respondent of the McMillan

News-Journal

in

Wilmington,

Del.

-

Gary

W.

(born on August 15, 1944, in Bend, Or.) started his news-

paper career in 1963 at the Observer-Dispatch

in Utica, N.Y., and

the Times in Spokane, Wash., before joining the Army. In January, 1969, McMillan came to the Boston

Globe. - Kirk S c h a r f e n b e r g

(born

on January 2 4 , 1 9 4 4 , in Boston, Mass.) was employed for the

Berk-

shire Eagle,

the Washington

he came to the Boston

Post and the Springfield

Union

before

Globe in February, 1977. - David M.

Wessel

(born on February 21, 1954, in New Haven, Conn.) joined the Middletown

Press

staff and later on that of the Hartford

fore joining the Boston

Globe

Courant

be-

in May, 1981. These seven journal-

ists were awarded the 1984 Pulitzer Prize for Local Reporting for work published in the year before.

284 MORE ECONOMIC O P P O R T U N I T I E S

AND P O L I T I C A L

POWER FOR

BLACKS

[Source: Jonathan Kaufman: The Impact of race in other US cities. Atlanta Open doors abounding, in: The Boston Globe (Boston, Mass.), Vol. 224/No. 174, December 21, 1983, p. 1, cols. 1 - 2; p. 2, cols. 1 - 4; reprinted by permission of the Boston Globe, Boston, Mass.]

When Jackie Hall, a black city planner from Cambridge, moved here in 1980, the first question white engineering firms asked her was, "Who do you know in City Hall?" The question reflected the upheaval in Atlanta's politics and priorities. Blacks, long a majority in Atlanta

(they now make up

two-thirds of the city's 425,000 people), in 1973 had elected the city's first black mayor, Maynard Jackson, and in subsequent years wrought significant changes in the economic opportunities open to black businesses, workers and developers. Blacks were guaranteed 25 percent of all jobs and contracts for the city's $800 million airport expansion and the $2 billion mass transit system. Blacks began to make their way rapidly into previously allwhite corporations and law firms. Hall eventually returned to Boston, but her impression of Atlanta remains strong: "If you're plugged in, there's more opportunity in Atlanta for a black professional than in any other city." For many middle- and upper-income blacks, Atlanta today is a land of milk and honey, a city where blacks serve on the boards of directors of the art museum and the ballet, where whites have accommodated the explosion in black economic opportunity and where black colleges and businesses provide a basis for self-confidence and growth. Donald Speaks, a black, 33-year-old former aide to Boston Mayor Kevin H. White, operates programs for the Georgia Department of Public Health from a 13th-floor corner office. He boasts he has turned down three corporate job offers since moving here in 1980. Ronald Wilson, a black real estate developer, lists a string of partnerships, many with whites, that allow him to live in a $130,000 condominium built by his own development firm in a predominantly white neighborhood.

285 William Clement, a black consultant for Coca-Cola, lists the contacts he has made attending parties in a private box at Atlanta Falcons football games - a box belonging to the black president of the Atlanta City Council. Yet unlike many cities where blacks have come to political power - such as Detroit and Newark - the rise of blacks here has not sparked extensive white flight or business resistance. Atlanta's downtown skyline today is chockablock with futuristic office towers and hotels. 17 of which have been constructed since blacks took political control of the city. Another dozen new office towers are scattered in other parts of town. The white elites in Atlanta "have been extremely sensitive to the damage that racial conflict would do to the city's image," said Morehouse College political science Prof. Tobe Johnson, who is writing a book about Atlanta's growth. Opening up economic opportunities for blacks in Atlanta, said Johnson, "has been perceived as good business sense." P R O B L E M S AND

INEQUALITIES

Atlanta is still burdened by racial problems and inequalities. When Atlantans leave their offices for home, the city is divided, with blacks concentrated in the southern half and whites in the more affluent north. The rise in black economic opportunity has largely bypassed the 34 percent of Atlanta's black population that is poor and unskilled. Among black and white professionals, said Clement, the CocaCola consultant, there is "a lot of talking but not much socializing. Racism persists in jokes and attitudes among middle- and upper-class whites." But the economic gains made by blacks here and the improvement in Atlanta's quality of life are substantial - even remarkable, considering that they have occurred in the past 15 years. "Hell," said Lyndon Wade, 49-year-old black director of the Atlanta Urban League, "I can remember getting on a trolley and holding my breath as I walked from the front to the back." Next spring, Wade's daughter will graduate from the predominantly white Atlanta private school that once refused to admit the children of Martin Luther King Jr.

286 The explanation for burgeoning black economic opportunity in Atlanta, according to both blacks and whites here, lies in black acuiaen, white accommodation and changing political realities. Unlike many southern cities, Atlanta passed through the civil rights movement with little violence. Frightened by the violence that tore through cities like Birmingham, Ala., Atlanta's powerful - some say paternalistic - white business community decided in the late 1960s to accommodate growing black demands for power "It wasn't altruism," said Larry Gellerstedt, a prominent white builder. "The real driving force was economics. ... Blacks saw, 'Yes, we've got political power, but what use is political power if a Newark develops, if the economy goes down.' For businesses the thinking was, 'If we get into real, real problems down here, what's going to happen to my real estate?'" Gesturing to a wall filled with pictures of Gellerstedt projects going up all over town, he added: "When you're aspiring to be a great city you go about things a little differently than if you've got it made like you did up in the North." When Atlanta began a $2 billion subway system in the early 1970s, the Atlanta Action Forum - made up of top white business leaders and black leaders like Wade - intervened to assure that 25 percent of jobs and contracts went to minority companies. The group even forced the transit authority to restructure its management so blacks could fill several top jobs. Soon after Jackson was elected Atlanta's mayor in 1973, he threatened to stop construction of the new $800 million airport expansion unless a quarter of the contracts and jobs went to minority firms. The white business community agreed - in part, business executives say, because they desperately needed a new airport. MINORITY

PARTICIPATION

The commitment to minority participation continues. "With our billion-dollar budget we don't let a contract unless 25 percent is let to either a minority firm or a female entrepreneur," said Atlanta's mayor, Andrew Young. "We use political money to help people break into the economic mainstream." Just as the presence of universities like Harvard and MIT helped fuel the growth of Boston and Rte. 128, so Atlanta's

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