Chapter XII: Part TWO: THE PEOPLE (Confidential!) (7)

However, out of 811 of those indicted for major offenses in the last report period who did not enter pleas of guilty, only 281, about one third, were found guilty. Of those found guilty, the largest number received light sentences, far less than the maximum authorized by law. Even among those who pleaded guilty, more than 20 percent were permitted to assume lesser offenses.

An example of the penalties meted out for serious offenses is seen in those convicted of first- and second-degree murder: of 22, only three got sentences of 15 years to life; one drew 80 months to 20 years; all the 18 others got less than 20 years, with terms tapering down to one of three-to-nine on a first-degree murder, and one of one-to-four on a second-degree murder. None got the chair.

Disposition records on cleaning up major crimes are made to look good through an ingenious invention known as “Willie Pye” arrests. Whenever anyone is pinched in Washington and decides to take a plea, the cops induce him to admit every other unsolved crime of the same nature which is still open on the books. If the accused agrees to take the rap for these unsolved felonies, thus getting the police off the hook, they do not present further evidence to the grand jury, and the felon is not tried for the other offenses. Thus many complaints are charged off and police take official credit for solving crimes where no solution has eventuated.

The practice grew to such an extent about a decade ago that a public stench arose. After a conference between law enforcement officials and prosecutors, it was agreed to end it. But it goes right on and the evidence of it appears every year in tabulations of “cleared by other means.” There were 667 so disposed of in 1949.

It is believed the term “Willie Pye arrest” first came into police parlance in Washington when a man so named lived there, about 50 years ago. His business was crime. Willie was indicted on two housebreakings and confessed to many more, which were then written off as closed.

An unnamed desk sergeant immortalized Willie by using his name for the practice of shutting numerous open cases by getting multiple pleas and choosing to proceed on only the last.

The blowup came when Leroy Mason, who was doing a stretch in Occuquan Work House for three robberies, was still being charged for crimes going on on the outside. A nameless Washington newspaperman composed a deathless ditty, as offensive to grammar as the sentiment is to decency:

_Willie Pye was a regular guy,
He took the rap for you and I._

Though the F.B.I. reported a six percent drop of crime in Washington this year, the local jail population reached a new high. The courts sent 21,062 to District jail in 1950, an all-time record. Meanwhile, the police had closed less than 60 percent of all cases involving serious felony, which by the way, was an improvement.

Arrests for the more serious crimes by race were as follows:

_Offense_ _Total_ _White_ _Colored_
Arson 34 13 21
Aggravated Assault 2956 342 2614
Embezzlement and Fraud 201 146 55
Forgery and Counterfeiting 100 72 28
Grand Larceny 1099 326 773
Housebreaking 2878 634 2244
Homicides 55 10 45
Incest 5 1 4
Rape and Carnal Knowledge 191 39 152
Receiving Stolen Property 59 31 28
Robbery 1033 230 803
---- ---- ----
TOTAL 8611 1844 6767

The high incidence of Negro and juvenile crime was dealt with in detail in previous chapters. One reason there are so many colored law-breakers in Washington is that many judges in nearby Southern communities order Negro defendants to get out of town, instead of holding them for trial, and these gravitate to Washington.

Tough guys of both races hang around on the streets and insult passers-by with impunity, snatch purses, stick up pedestrians and mug and yoke.

Most crimes in Washington are committed from Friday through Sunday. Almost everyone has a two-day weekend, and the drinking and celebrating begins Friday night.

The First, Second, Third and Thirteenth Police precincts account for 57 percent of all serious crimes. The First is “downtown,” with tourists, transients and night life. The others are predominantly Negro.

Among the more profitable of the organized crimes are these:

Housebreaking, comparatively easy because of the large number of private homes and two- and three-story detached apartment buildings. The stolen goods are fenced in East Baltimore Street, Baltimore.

Auto thefts, growing more serious.

Bank robberies, not uncommon.

Pickpockets and cold-finger men find easy loot at the countless cocktail parties and other functions constantly given by lobbyists, conventioneers and diplomats. It is a cinch to crash these. Jewel-thieves have rich pastures. Social climbers and ambassadors’ women are loaded with rocks and constantly display them. A big gem haul is sent to Holland for recutting, via reverse channels used by the Mafia to smuggle dope. The reset ice is smuggled back.

Because of the ease with which fixes are maneuvered, the lenient sentences, the failure of local courts to extra-penalize repeaters, Washington is indeed a picnic-pasture for crooks from all over the country. When other places get too hot to hold them, they hop a rattler for the capital.

The pickings are easy. The payoff is high. The risks are minimal. The burg is a pushover.

Sex is a crime, too; a statutory felony. The incidence of such offenses in the Nation’s capital is so great as to be startling. The nature of them nauseated even a couple of hardboiled reporters like us.

The figures are public property, compiled by the F.B.I., the local cops and the Davis committee. Howard Whitman, who has been doing a series of articles based largely on newspaper morgue material, printed the computations in _Collier’s_, later put them into a book on prurient misdemeanors.

Whitman slanted his findings to _Collier’s_ special-pleading formula and found that “crime is a slum-connected characteristic.”

That is a laugh. Washington is freer of depressed living areas than any city in the country.

“And Negroes are ghettoized in these slums,” adds Whitman gratuitously.

Whitman quotes with approval the Committee for Racial Democracy which urged that “training in minority group problems be instituted immediately as a part of the regular in-service training of all policemen,” the non-sequitur supposition being that the colored folk out-rape, out-maim, out-steal and out-mugg whites eight to one because the coppers haven’t been trained in minority group relations.

Nor are sex-criminals, white or colored, permanently taken off the streets after once being caught. Washington is a recidivists’ paradise because of its ridiculous so-called “collateral rule” which takes the place of posting a bond.

A defendant could, and still can, despite a promise of the courts to tighten up, post a $25 collateral instead of a bond with a police captain. Thereupon if he does not appear in a court he is automatically found guilty and the collateral is forfeited as a fine. And that closes the case instead of the judge issuing a bench warrant as in other jurisdictions.

In the case of violent sex cases, the maximum collateral is $500 forfeit in the same way. A new judicial rule says all aggravated sex cases must be taken to court, but they are not.

Abortions are cheap and easy to obtain. Police are able to arrest only a few of the operators, and then only when complications arise. Even then, few are convicted. This racket is highly protected by an interstate ring allied with the Mafia. A ten million a year branch was uncovered in San Francisco, built around a prominent female Chinese physician, not publicly involved because of her high political and social connections. She is a close friend of Virginia Hill, gal friend of the late Bugsy Siegel.

Curiously, Washington is the nation-wide headquarters for the mail order sale of dirty pictures and post cards. Why this should be so is puzzling, though those who operate the business here face no tougher penalty than elsewhere because it is a Federal offense anyway.

29. THE LAW

We mean the poor underpaid bulls, who enforce it--or, anyway, are supposed to.

Last year the Attorney General of the United States held a conference of mayors and other local law enforcement officers to try to figure out the causes of crime. When it was over, we button-holed a mayor of a Western city and asked him the following question:

“How come no one mentioned that hardly a crime or a vice violation is possible without the connivance of or the knowledge of local officials?”

The mayor replied, “That’s an easy one to answer. We are all local officials.”

We do not charge that the really terrible conditions in Washington are the fault of the Metropolitan Police. Most of the cops on that overworked force are honest. If given the opportunity they would love to do their duty. Most policemen all over the country are honest, too. They are slaves of a setup with the establishment of which they had nothing to do and which they are powerless to correct. Big payoffs are not made to men in the ranks. The orders go out from up above. Patrolmen follow orders. When they see others getting, they often ask what’s the use of being honest themselves? Why make pinches when the prisoners are always sprung from up above?

For many years strenuous efforts have been made to sell the idea that the federal government and everything connected with it is straight and efficient. The Metropolitan Police force is an agency of the United States government. Only Gilbert and Sullivan could do justice to it, as a comic opera. But the laughs are costly.

The boss of the force carries the complicated title of Major and Superintendent. His name is Robert J. Barrett and he got the job because he was related to the former chief.

A fantastic story made the front pages last year, then was hushed and forgotten. Police Captain Anthony Richitt charged under oath, before a Congressional investigating committee, that he had been ordered by Police Inspector Jeffreys to turn in a false report on a gambling complaint. He also swore that the District crime investigating sub-committee was worrying the police chief, who, he said, was on intimate terms with gambler Emmitt Warring; and further, that Warring delivered messages from the chief to precinct captains.

Such charges elsewhere would have popped up a seething scandal, at least a grand jury to-do, with the probability of new brass in the police department. It took a long time, but even in Chicago the police commissioner, the county chairman and the millionaire chief investigator for the State’s Attorney quit after publication of _Chicago Confidential_.

You think anything like that happened in Washington? In this home of laissez faire the grand jury wasn’t interested even to the extent of whitewashing the mud.

The incident was treated as a private feud. It was officially settled on the records when Richitt apologized to his boss, in a public apology, six words long:

“I regret the incident ever occurred.”

No explanation, no retraction, no withdrawal of the charges.

Barrett’s reply was nearly as short:

“Richitt has complied with the orders of the department as far as I am concerned.”

Thus was departmental satisfaction restored. But there was no satisfaction for the public. No determination was ever made as to whether the chief had ordered his subordinate to falsify arrest records. It was decided by all concerned that this was of no interest to the tax-payers, the grand jury included.

Barrett had forgotten he had told the press he had what he called “evidence tending to show perjury” on the subject of Captain Richitt. Chairman Davis of the House District Sub-Committee, before which the stink started, got into the act and announced he, too, had closed the book on the affair.

The terms of the deal apparently were such that neither Barrett nor Richitt are ever again to question the other’s activities. Some months before, evidence was brought forth that Richitt had bought seven autos in addition to the one he was driving during 27 post-war months, when civilians could get cars only in the black market. No explanation was volunteered by anyone, though Richitt had sold most of the cars as soon as he bought them.

Your authors know this is a common practice in police departments all over the country.

A sergeant of the Bridgeport, Connecticut, force was fired for similar activities. Many cops used their emergency priorities to order cars which they then transferred to dealers, without ever taking possession. The cops rarely handled the money. The dealer went with them to accept delivery and paid the purchase price, the cops chiseling from $500 to $1,000 on each transaction.

When we arrived in Washington to dig for this book, we asked: “Who makes the fixes?”

In other cities, contacts are closed with precinct, ward and district leaders of the political party in office. If you want to retail women, make book, land pickpocketing privileges or get a summons or a violation squared, you go to see this local boss.

If money is to be passed it goes through him. Many favors are granted in return for party loyalty, votes or campaign contributions. He takes care of those, too. The leader passes the word along to city hall, where it is relayed to the local police station. In some towns, Chicago for example, the channels are short-circuited in advance, so the leader can go direct to his police captain.

But what happens in Washington, where there are no voters, so there are no district leaders? How do you fix the cops? Who is the collector?

Some naive Washingtonians said there is no such thing. There is no collecting. There is no graft.

That is cockeyed. The payoff is through the local police captain, who acts as the collector for anyone in the District Government who is to be fixed. The captain retains his own percentage of the boodle, plus anything he can steal, then passes the balance up above, through the regularly established channels.

Such a system plays hell with the poor cops on the street. The guy who pays the captain for protection knows he doesn’t have to take care of underlings. The most the uniformed patrolman is good for is a meal, a cigar and an occasional five-spot. Vice squad men and detectives can sometimes do a little modest shaking, but not enough to get rich on.

A police captain told us this story: Two Chicago detectives came to Washington to pick up a wanted prisoner. It is the custom among all police departments to entertain cops visiting on business. Washington has no fund for such purposes. Its men are so poorly paid, they can’t treat. But the two assigned to keep the visitors happy had worked the bright-light belt, so they knew where they could cuff a few small night clubs. During the evening, one Chicago detective asked the Washington cop, “What is your job worth?”

The reply was, “I get $3,300 a year?”

“No, I don’t mean your salary; what’s it worth?”

The Washingtonian looked puzzled. The policemen from the Windy City said, “You can talk freely. We’re friends. No wise cop in Chicago would take the job unless he could pick up at least $10,000 a year on the side.”

Washington policemen who can average $20 a week extra consider themselves lucky. Not so many higher officers.

Internal Revenue agents, who never allow themselves to be quoted, told us some officers have safe deposit-vaults choked with big bills. But many others are honest, like chumps. They have to go along with the crooks to hold their jobs. They can’t squawk without implicating too many important higher-ups.

Salaries of Washington policemen range from a take-home pay of only $200 a month for the lowest-grade patrolman to about $10,000 a year gross for the chief. Military ranks are used. Private, sixth grade, the highest non-officer rank, pays $3,750 a year. A corporal gets $4,025, a sergeant $4,228, a lieutenant $4,600, and a captain $5,300. That’s the salary on which Captain Richitt bought eight cars in 27 months.

If the fix you’re after is of a nature which the local precinct captain can’t handle, you go through a certain District Commission employe who is the bagman for one of the three District Commissioners. The Commission is the immediate boss of the police department. Any commissioner can issue orders to the chief.

There are occasions, however, when a really strong in is needed. Washington is federal territory and is ruled nominally by the national administration. In such an instance, the guy who wants to call the cops off has to try other doors. The odds are, even if he is in business in Washington, he has his roots elsewhere. Many Washingtonians maintain voting addresses in the states from which they originally came. Others have friends, partners and relatives in various states.

The procedure is to make the connection through a Democratic county committeeman back home or through a member of Congress in the home state. Congress is the ruler of the District, and almost every Congressman is as busy as a Chicago alderman fixing everything from parking tags to felony warrants.

It is similar when a cop needs influence to square a rap or get an appointment or a promotion. Elsewhere we know that being a paid-up member of the local political club never hurt the career of a policeman. Here there are no political clubs, and most cops are not even Washingtonians. Their jobs are not confined to locals, but are open to all American citizens, regardless of residence. You can take a civil service test back home in Oskaloosa, then arrive in Washington a full-fledged policeman.

Most Washingtonians don’t even want to get on the force at the penny-ante salary. But $3,000 a year looks good to a cotton-picker in Mississippi, where the annual per capita income is $600. When he gets to Washington he finds the $600 back home goes further than $3,000 here.

So, what does a cop do when he needs help? He follows the procedure outlined above. If he comes from out of town he corresponds with his local ward-heeler or goes directly to his Congressman on Capitol Hill.

We asked one cop, “What do you do if you’re a native of Washington and have no vote?”

He replied, “You’re just out of luck.”

That is, unless you’re a Negro.

The Washington force had some fine colored cops and detectives, native-born men who decided to make a career of police work in the days before Washington was flooded with the displaced from the plantations in the Deep South. In those days Negroes got no special privileges in Washington. Now almost all of the 300 colored policemen are political appointees. The white applicant undergoes a rigid and rigorous investigation; Negroes are forced on the force even over the disapproval of the department’s intelligence squad.

Many colored policemen have rackets on the side, are gamblers, operate whore-houses or do a little pimping.

The frequency with which the following happens is too great to set it aside as a mere isolated example: White cops tell you colored ones often stop pretty white women drivers, bawl them out and threaten them with arrests until they cry, then offer to square it for some petting.

Testimony under oath, reported in a previous chapter, in which a former sweetheart of gambler Attilio Acalotti charged she had seen hush-money slipped to three cops, was not pursued by police brass, the District Attorney or the grand jury. Several defendants were convicted for trying to influence her to change her testimony, though Acalotti, “Snags” Lewis and Frank Billeci were granted new trials on the gambling charges.

Our indictment is not against Washington’s police. As we said, most of them are honest, conscientious, decent citizens, thwarted by something above their reach.

The culprit is the system. That is responsible for the childish, irresponsible atmosphere of everything in this dizziest of American cities.

Don’t think, despite the annual yaps for more assistance, the Washington police force is radically undermanned. Compared to numbers in other cities, it is not. The Metropolitan Police have the second highest manpower per capita of any large outfit in the country. It is not up to authorized strength, but that goes for most cities. That doesn’t tell the story, because, as we indicated, there are at least five other police forces operating in the city, with several hundred more cops on tap. Generally speaking, the jurisdiction of each force is limited to the particular area for which it was created. All Washington policemen have the right to make arrests for crimes committed in their presence in any part of the District. For purposes of convenience, deals are made between various forces, so sometimes one patrols a district which really belongs to another. For instance, if a small square or park is situated miles away from the next nearest park, the city police often relieve the National Park Police of the necessity of sending squad-cars far off their regular beats.

There is a reverse, too. The Metropolitan force has about 1,800 men for its 14 precincts and one harbor station, but men are continually called for and assigned to guard visiting diplomats and dignitaries, and for special duty at the White House, government establishments, and even as ushers at tea-parties. With days off, sick leaves and men on special assignments, the force is lucky when it can put 300 cops on the streets on any shift.

The police are used for many duties delegated to others in well-regulated cities. For instance, policemen must act as collection agents for wives with delinquent husbands. Any Congressman can call and ask for police protection, which means he may want a cop in front of his house as a parking attendant for his private parties.

Any time the President or an important official drives through Washington, special cops are strung along the route to clear traffic. Wives of Congressmen and expectant mothers with a drag rate a police escort to a hospital. Even the circus can call for a special detail of 22 men.

It is almost impossible to keep any foot patrolmen on the streets. The force is all-motorized, that being the only way it can get around the sprawling District. Meanwhile, there are no harness-bulls on beats to keep toughs and thugs in line. So serious is the shortage of personnel that the black marias attached to each of the 14 precincts roll the streets 24 hours a day instead of being in their garages. The patrol-wagons are equipped with two-way radios and respond to calls the same as do squad cars. This is a help for spot work, one up on most towns.

One chief trouble with the police department is that so few of its men are natives. They have no local civic pride. Another factor is the constant turnover in personnel, because of the lousy salaries and lean pickings down below. There is no adequate pension system. In New York they can retire on a minimum of half pay after 20 years, regardless of age, which means a man who goes on the force at 21 can get off at 41 with a life pension. But in Washington you cannot apply for retirement before age 55, with 25 years’ service. And even then there is no guarantee you will be allowed to quit, as retirement is not automatic, but at the pleasure of the board. Usually only one-third of those who apply are permitted to quit.

On the other hand, Washington cops work an eight-hour day on an authorized five-day week, and are not restrained from holding jobs on the outside which don’t conflict with their assigned duties. Many own or work in stores. Several are chauffeurs. Embassies hire them for body-guards. Some drive cabs. A few owned fleets of them, but this was forbidden when it was found they were using their police pull to get their drivers off for traffic violations.

One policeman, Private John U. Carroll, managed a chile parlor in the 700 block, 11th Street, SE. There was nothing wrong with that, according to regulations, but the police trial board nabbed him when he failed to report that he had been in a fist fight with some customers in his place. According to testimony, Danny Petro, a former professional pug, walked into the “parlor” and slugged Carroll’s pal. That brought on a four-man melee in which the cop was injured. The trial board fined him $75. After being restored to duty he retired, claiming a veteran’s disability.

Though the department lowered standards because of the difficulty of recruiting men, its record for solving crimes is still good. But convictions and sentences are far under the American averages. The present laws and regulations so hamper the police that even if all were honest and intelligent, which they aren’t, serious inroads into the crime situation would be impossible.

One of the most serious roadblocks is the fact that after they make an arrest and hold a prisoner for the magistrate, they cannot make their complaints to the court direct, or tell the judge what it is all about. Washington rules require policemen to go to the U.S. Attorney and plead with him to book a case. The prosecutor thus sits as practically a committing magistrate, as the defendant and his lawyers are heard at the same time, and they can bargain with him for a nolle pros or a lesser charge.

If the U.S. Attorney decides not to handle a case, the police are sunk. They cannot ask the municipal judge to hold or commit. In many other jurisdictions, New York for instance, the arresting officer acts for the state at the preliminary hearing, before a magistrate, and not only tells his story to the judge, but can question the prisoner.

The U.S. Attorney is usually reluctant to prosecute. Even if he decides to, the cops are due for a browbeating from the judge. This story is no isolated incident--it is typical of what constantly goes on in the local, politically appointed courts:

Many policemen told us the courts work against them. When they make arrests they have to go to trial on their own time and are usually kept sitting there all day at the pleasure of the defendant and his lawyer. The defendant may wander around, but the policeman is required to remain in the court until the case is called. He is not even permitted to go to the washroom. If he does, the eagle-eyed shysters call the case immediately, with court consent, and the defendant is discharged--for lack of prosecution!

Several policemen who went to the toilet were threatened with contempt citations.

From the time a policeman makes an arrest, until the final disposition of the case, the entire atmosphere of the District enforcement machinery is mined against him. The District Attorney’s office is skeptical of anything he says, and is inclined to side with the accused. The courts, frequently presided over by gangster-appointed judges or left-wingers whose constituents are rebels against the accepted code, bend backward. They make defendants of the cops instead of the prisoners. So most policemen shrug and forget about it. For instance, in the Black Belt, not one of every three known crimes is reported. The experienced cops take it easy, go to the ball games and dances.

The most absurd straitjacket in which the Washington police are confined is the law which forbids them to serve warrants. They may be served only by deputy U.S. marshals.

This completely screws up the orderly procedure, because District judges, who are hot hell to protect the civil rights of murderers, pimps, dope-peddlers and gamblers, refuse to hold a prisoner in most cases unless he is arrested on a warrant. And they never uphold a John Doe warrant.

For instance, on one occasion, two cops assigned to the vice squad at night, working undercover on prostitution, got into a house and nabbed several bottles of whiskey there. They called for a police car. When it arrived, further search turned up narcotics. Twenty-six were arrested without a warrant. The police knew the courts would not hold them for even disorderly conduct, because arresting officers could not specify which offense each and every one had committed. So the prisoners were not photographed or fingerprinted. All were allowed to post $5 collateral, which was, of course, forfeited.

A cop can arrest a man whom he sees in the process of house-breaking on burglary, but if he then fans him and finds a gun he cannot charge him with a concealed-weapon violation, because he had no warrant for the search. When police have information that a crime is being committed on a premise, they must first get in touch with the U.S. Commissioner or a judge, then locate a deputy marshal to come and serve the warrant.

But don’t you assume you can get away with anything in Washington. The cops are death on jay-walkers. If you cross against the light you’ll be jugged. That in Washington is more serious and more culpable than murder!

30. HOW TO STAY OUT OF JAIL

These are the steps:

First you break the law.

Then you get pinched.

Then you hire Charlie Ford.

Who is he? Charles E. Ford is the “Fifth Street Cicero.”

Ford, a behemoth of 220 pounds, is 52. He has been practicing law in Washington for 28 years. His father, a New Jersey Democrat, was the public printer of the United States in 1913. Since then a lot has been printed about his son in the public records.

As noted, Ford was the late Jimmy La Fontaine’s lawyer and is a trustee of his estate. He appeared in Chicago to convince the Kefauver committee it couldn’t force Anna Fischetti to testify against her husband, Charles, the notorious Capone gangster. And he convinced it.

But not all Ford’s work is so aristocratic. He and his associates take them as they come. Hardly a day passes without defendants in criminal court being aided and comforted by Ford or someone from his office.

He is the darling of the gambling and prostitution fraternity. His clients seldom go to jail. The police don’t feel so bad when they lose to Ford as they do when other lawyers oppose them. For Ford is a great friend of the cops. Whenever a policeman gets in trouble, Ford takes his case, usually without fee.

Charlie is one of those big, brash, bluff guys everyone loves, especially the newspapermen. He feeds them plenty of copy--and liquor--and never hesitates to give them a lift when they need background material on gangsters and criminals, without violating his fiduciary ethics. He is a social guy who likes to entertain and who loves to eat. One of his clients was the late Tom O’Donnell, and under the terms of his will Charlie operates the two celebrated O’Donnell restaurants and patronizes them freely.

Whenever his waist gets out of bounds, he goes to Hot Springs, Arkansas, for the reducing baths and a few days of friendship and cheer with Owney “The Killer” Madden, retired gang chieftain, now Hot Springs’ most eminent elder statesman.

None of Charlie’s clients has ever gone to the electric chair. One was sentenced to death for murder, but saved Charlie’s record by considerately hanging himself in jail. So he is one up on Sam Leibowitz, whose lone mistake waited for the ministrations of the public executioner. But Ford is that kind of a guy. Everyone loves him. No one would embarrass him.

We have sworn testimony before us which shows the operations of Ford’s jail-thwarting apparatus. It usually works this way: The prisoner, who may be a numbers peddler, a bookmaker’s runner, or a street-walker, is booked at the police station. He or she puts in a phone call to a certain designated unofficial party. Thereupon one of a half-dozen bail-bond brokers gets a call, and within minutes a runner for the bondsman appears at the police station and puts up surety for the prisoner.

Among bailers-out utilized by the organization are James H. Conroy, Isaac P. Jones, William P. Ryan, and Leonard, Louis, Max and Meyer Weinstein.

The legal fee for a $500 bail bond in the District is $75. The foregoing bondsmen charge the combine only $37.50, half-price, for springing a protected person. The rules regarding their surety are sketchy. They may register a $25,000 piece of property, then lay a hundred or a thousand $25,000 bonds against it.

On release, the defendant may visit the law offices of Ford, on 5th Street, where he is interviewed by Ford or his associate, Clifford Allder since the resignation of James K. Hughes. But sometimes the defendant does not speak to his counsel until the case is actually called in court, when his lawyer--Ford or an associate--whom he has never seen before, stands up for him at arraignment. If the defendant has no previous convictions, Ford’s office often pleads him guilty; whereupon the judge imposes a fine of usually not more than $25. We have proof that the fines for many of these defendants are paid on the spot from the lawyer’s pocket.

The system is keenly organized. Not one in a hundred people arrested pays his own bail-bond fee or knows who contacted the bondsman or paid him. Records of the bondsmen are kept so cryptically that in the rare instances when they are queried under oath they can say all they remember is they got a call from someone who only gave his first name, to put up bail, and they have no record to show who paid them. The rules are being changed. They must obtain a full name--but not for public record. And they won’t ask for birth certificates, either.

The Ford office has been able to pass the buck between its members. They cannot remember who retained them, who paid the retainer, or who put up the money to pay the fines, if “they actually did it,” which they “doubt.”

Ford successfully defied a Congressional committee which tried to make him divulge the names of his clients, though he admitted Emmitt Warring was one. The others, he said, were known to the public only as respectable businessmen. They were “more powerful” than Warring or even the late Jimmy La Fontaine, who were only peanut-peddlers compared to them, he said.

When pressed, Ford remembered a man by the name of Bettis whom he represented; and Earl MacDonald and Attilio Acalotti. He said he thought he had represented another defendant, named “Washington--I think it was George Washington, and that’s all I can remember now.”

Ford’s business is not confined to the gambling and hustling fraternity. You see his name bob up in court on almost every kind of criminal case. One of his recent ones was the arrest of two men on charges of violating the alcohol tax laws.

“Did you have a warrant?” Ford thundered at the ATU agent. When he conceded he had not, Ford asked, “How did you know this is alcohol? Don’t you know it is illegal to arrest people without a warrant?” “I smelled the alcohol,” declared Agent Sweeney. “I’ve been in this business for 17 years and I’ve developed a keen sense of smell--especially for alcohol.”

Ford’s clients were accused of unloading a truck with 127 gallons of moonshine whiskey.

Ford’s office has practically a monopoly on the setting up of and organizing after-hour bottle-clubs. He is generally given credit by the local legal fraternity for being the genius who figured out the way to sidestep the 2 o’clock closing ordinance. His associate is defending the confessed killer in the recent Hideaway shooting; Ford himself secured the Hideaway’s after-hours charter.

Ford’s operations are not confined to the District, but lap over into nearby Maryland, where, as trustee for the multi-million-dollar estate of gambler La Fontaine, he finds plenty of activity. Many of the gamblers and other shady citizens whom he represents operate across state lines. The boundaries often come to the aid of his clients. For many offenses, especially most of those before the District Municipal Court, there is no method whereby authorities can extradite defendants from Maryland or Virginia, and vice versa. It is very much as if a law-breaker could take refuge in Brooklyn when wanted in Manhattan, both boroughs of New York City. There is no more physical difference between Prince Georges, Maryland, and the District than that.

This all-service Ford is chairman of the Criminal Law Committee of the District Bar Association.

Another lawyer who frequently appears in court for arrested hustlers is Ed Buckley.

Fifth Street, between Indiana and D, is called “The Fifth Street Lawyers’ Association,” because so many bondsmen, shysters and good lawyers have offices there.

We asked a friend to name the real sure shot mouthpiece who could spring you if you were arrested for murder and knew you were guilty.

He said William Leahy was the best trial lawyer in town and one of the most respected. James Laughlin, who himself was once arrested but not prosecuted after a reversal, is another successful practitioner.

Others who do considerable criminal defense work are Denny Hughes, Sol Littenberg and Milton Ehrlich.

Another interesting criminal lawyer is Robert I. Miller, who shot and killed a St. Elizabeth’s Hospital psychiatrist whom he suspected of playing with Mrs. Miller. The shooting took place at about noon one day, in the heart of the shopping section at 11th and G Streets. He was represented by H. Mason Welch, who sob-storied the jury into an acquittal on the “unwritten law.”

Miller is not the smartest lawyer in town, but he does a tremendous business defending Negroes and other superstitious criminals who engage him sometimes just to sit at the trial table for good luck, because he beat his own case. Miller, an ostentatious person, often wipes his glasses with a $100 bill while addressing a jury. He claimed close friendship to Roosevelt and Garner and decorates his office with photos of them. He ran a Republicans-for-Roosevelt club.

Some lawyers win their cases through merit, others through a fix. Still others, who weren’t envied by their colleagues, had to do it the hard way when a certain former bachelor-lady judge, who shall be nameless, rendered her verdicts in favor of clients of the mouthpieces whose persuasion grew between covers not on law books. She was an awful tomato, and many attorneys preferred to lose their cases.

Judge Hitz, the humorist of the local bench, got off a dilly when he discovered the plaintiff in a matrimonial action was still living with her husband, the whole divorce proceedings being a sham to swindle creditors. Said the judge, in dismissing the action, “You can’t litigate by day and fornicate by night.”

31. THE BOSSES

The last orthodox political boss of Washington was Alexander Robey Shepherd. When he finished with the city treasury, Congress voted to end home rule and took back the government.

From the time of its incorporation as a city, in 1802, Washington was run by elected mayors and aldermen. In 1871, in President Grant’s administration, it was turned into a territory, similar to Alaska or Hawaii, with delegates in Congress and a large measure of home rule. Shepherd was a pal of General Grant, who had numerous smelly friends.

Shepherd’s stewardship was modern in every respect. He went in for a New Deal on a big scale. The town was torn up while Shepherd paved streets, installed sewers--sometimes two sets to one avenue--went in for slum clearance, built squares, parks, circles, gas-mains and sidewalks. Shepherd began life as a plumber, and showed partiality for anything with pipes.

Shepherd had built up a small Tammany to keep his boys in power. Votes were bartered, crimes were fixed, laws were perverted. When the end came, Shepherd skipped and hid out until the statute of limitations ran out. When he returned they greeted him with a brass band, like New York did Jimmy Walker, and built him a statue.

The Congress was more interested in the welfare of the District of Columbia 75 years ago than it is now. Unable to stomach the stench, it decided to exercise its Constitutional right to govern the District, and substituted the present commission-form of government in place of home rule and local suffrage.

Under the present setup, the executive is a three-man commission, appointed by the President for a three-year term. One must be from the Corps of Engineers of the Army. On the law books, these commissioners have no more power than a New York City Borough President They can do practically nothing without approval from Congress. But by virtue of the apathy that prevails in Washington, these men have become little czars. Congress, by statute, has empowered the commissioners to make building and plumbing regulations and to create and enforce all reasonable police and other city rules. But they do not levy taxes or make appropriations. That is done by Congress. And that’s the District’s chief squawk.

Every buck collected in Washington goes into the general funds of the U.S. Treasury; not earmarked for the District. All payments come out of the same general fund. The result is that, while Congress pays up to ten percent of the cost of local government, the citizens bear the other 90 percent. But 52 percent of all the property is tax-exempt. The government owns more than 40 percent, the rest belongs to embassies, tax-free organizations like the Red Cross, etc. So the residents complain that the rich U.S. government is riding along on a free pass, leaving local property to bear the cost of supporting the huge Federal establishment.

The present commissioners are John Russell Young, president of the Board; Guy Mason, and Brigadier General Gordon R. Young, the engineer commissioner. Mason’s term expired in February, 1951, but he is permitted to serve until another is appointed or he be reappointed.

Under them, the commissioners have a large staff of special assistants, private secretaries, administrative assistants and others who have access to their offices. We are just telling you this in case you are thinking of making a fix, for one of these persons is the guy to see.

One of the three commissioners is noted for his ability to bollix everything up after a big, bad night--which is almost every night. Even his enemies consider inebriation a valid excuse for his befuddled condition. A Congressman investigating the Commission said, “After all, the poor guy always has a hangover. You can’t blame him for what he does when he feels awful.”

Under the commissioners are such usual municipal executive officers as assessors, auditors, tax collectors, license commissioners and bureaus of public welfare, recreation, traffic, police, fire, health, corrections; and--oh, yes--the corporation counsel.

The observer who takes a gander at the judicial branch of the District government sometimes wonders if he followed Lewis Carroll’s Alice down into the rabbit hole.

The judicial powers are exercised by the District courts, which sit not only for federal cases, but for felonious breaches of the local law, too; and by municipal courts, judges of which are appointed for six years. They have jurisdiction over minor suits and unimportant law and ordinance violations.

Members of the federal judiciary for the District of Columbia need not be local residents. They may be appointed from anywhere in the country. Usually these plums go to deserving Democrats from elsewhere. At this writing there are 12 District judges and 10 municipal court judges, in addition to justices of the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, the Municipal Court of Appeals, and the Juvenile Court.

The District courts serve a two-fold function. They act both as federal courts and as superior state courts, handling civil and criminal matters. No judges of either court are elected by the local citizens or by their representatives. They have no interest in the community. They do not partake of a legacy of local common law and custom.

If any courts should be impartial, those of the District might be. But they are not. Some of the judges are venal, inefficient party hacks or militant propagandists for left-wing philosophies.

The U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia has the most overworked office in the land. He not only functions as a local district attorney and as United States attorney, but triples in brass with a job corresponding to a state attorney general. But his budget and the number of assistants allotted him are on a per capita population basis, as though he had to prosecute only federal cases in any city the size of Washington.

In the prosecution of some minor cases in municipal court alone has he any assistance. The city Corporation Counsel’s office handles those. To demonstrate again what can happen when a bureaucracy turns dictator--the criminal division of his office has no law library. It does not have a secretary.

If he or his assistants want to check a law or a decision they have to buy their own books. He is given no fund to keep records, so no records are kept. It is almost impossible for him to find out the disposition of cases. He has only five low-paid assistants assigned to municipal criminal courts, and these are so overworked, sometimes they have to prosecute cases on an average of one every three minutes. Under District law, defendants are permitted jury trials in all cases where the penalty is in excess of ninety days or a $300 fine. It is no wonder the Corporation Counsel is usually willing to take a plea of disorderly conduct, instead. The maximum penalty for that is $25, no jail.

Persons accused of serious crimes under federal law must be booked immediately before a United States Commissioner, as all crimes in the District, even those like assault, robbery, drunken driving, gambling, homicide, and rape, which elsewhere belong exclusively to the state, are federal matters here.

We gave you a rough idea of the volume of such criminal activities in the District. If those defendants had been arrested for the same offenses in states, they would be booked before a magistrate, a police court or a justice of the peace. There are none such in Washington other than the judges. The chief committing magistrate is the United States Commissioner, and he has no assistants. He not only performs the federal duties that U.S. Commissioners in other towns assume, but he also acts as a committing magistrate on all local felony charges in the District.

A U.S. Commissioner is not a judge. He is chosen by the local Federal bench. He serves without salary on a fee basis, but is limited by statute to a maximum of $9,400 a year, out of which he is required to pay office rent and stenographic expenses. The law permits a U.S. Commissioner to practice law on the side, and many in other jurisdictions do, but, because the D.C. office is the busiest in the country, he has no time to handle outside cases. The Commissioner is on duty 24 hours a day. There is no night court. He is it. Police awaken him at any hour of the night when they make important arrests or require warrants, and he is busy at hearings, setting bail, and presiding at arraignments all day.

When you get into the U.S. Attorney’s office you really see how things are loused up here. The rich Federal government apparently has dough to toss away everywhere else, but not in its own home. Of course, there are no faithful voters to be placated here. District Attorney Fay has only 34 men on his staff; his office is required to do more work than the entire Second Judicial Circuit, which includes the entire states of Vermont, Connecticut and the four districts of New York. His budget is so limited, most of his assistants receive only about $4,000 a year, and so the turnover is terrific; young men just out of law school go to work for him for a couple of years, then go out to make a living.

His office is so understaffed, there are not enough employes around to handle all complaints. It is possible to walk in and rifle the files at will. Many shyster lawyers often do that, killing the cases against their clients.

With such a small, unseasoned staff, it is no wonder the complaint desk in the U.S. Attorney’s office has been compared to “a bargain grocery counter.” It looks very much like one. It’s a long wooden shelf behind which a deputy district attorney stands and does business with plaintiffs, defendants, cops and lawyers across it. We noted that police may not enter their own complaints. They must bring them to the complaint bureau of the U.S. Attorney, before the hearing in court. It is then up to the U.S. Attorney’s office alone to determine whether the complaint will be made.

What happens is that, every day, thousands of people mill around in this complaint room. An onlooker can’t tell who are cops, lawyers or prisoners. When the arresting officer speaks to the deputy D.A., he does so in this cut-rate counter atmosphere, before the defendant and his lawyer. There is no privacy. The cop has to spill his case to the opposition. The defense lawyer then sets up an argument for dropping the case or reducing the charge. The officials are so harassed, they try to dispense with as much work as possible, which accounts for a hefty proportion of pinches that never get past this bureau.

Sometimes a youngster just out of law school is the “grocery clerk.” He makes such grave rulings as deciding not to prosecute a homicide charge. These law clerks arrogate to themselves the rights and prerogatives of the courts. When the D.A. decides to go before the grand jury, he usually asks for an indictment for only one offense, even if the accused has been charged with twenty. Elsewhere the custom is to indict on each count and try on one or two, leaving the others hanging over the defendant. That does not happen in Washington. After a prisoner is discharged and commits a crime in some other jurisdiction there is no record for probation officers there of other outstanding charges against him. That’s another reason why the professionals like to practice their trades in Washington.

There’s another booby-trap for the law. The prosecuting and corrective branches of the government don’t take the cops into their confidence when a prisoner is paroled. Elsewhere the police are notified when a parolee is back on the streets, so they can keep an eye on him. In Washington this is considered an invasion of the convict’s Constitutional rights.

If the defendant cannot make a deal before the complaint bureau, his lawyer is entitled on demand to get possession of the file on his case. The place is so understaffed, with not enough stenographers, that the only notes in these files are brief pencilled memoranda jotted down by the Deputy District Attorney. There is never a complete record. It is simple for defense lawyers to sneak some of the notes out of a file; they’ll never be missed, because no carbon copies are made. The overworked deputies can seldom remember what they wrote.

When the trial is scheduled, the deputy prosecutor seldom has an opportunity to read the files, even if there were complete data. Felony cases are often ground out in District Court at the rate of one an hour, including time out for picking juries. When a U.S. Attorney finishes with one case, the clerk hands him a folder on the next. That is the first time he ever saw it. Add to this the fact that the prosecutors do not work with the police in preparing a case, and you can see what “confusion twice confounded” means.

One of the most unusual features in the setup of the District government is the office of the Coroner. Until recently, this functionary, who need not be a physician, had no laboratory. What he has now is incomplete. He has no medical examiner and only a few low-paid researchers.

But he has a swell job, with a ten-year tenure and a courtroom better than the U.S. Commissioner’s. The present Coroner has virtually set himself up as a judge, with no authority in law, and is said by his critics to work with a gavel instead of a scalpel. He is one of the town’s most powerful functionaries.

Among the many strange quirks of local law is one which requires the Coroner at times to serve as a constable and to make levies. When the Coroner acts as a coroner, he holds court like a judge. And he thinks he is one, too. He has frequently discharged from custody persons accused of homicide, who had been held without bail by a U.S. Commissioner. He often sets bail and discharges defendants on bail, though there are no statutes authorizing such procedure, and he has so admitted under oath.

There have been instances when the Coroner has ruled a death was justifiable homicide and released the prisoner. Though this is no bar to subsequent indictment, prisoners often flee the jurisdiction before the prosecuting attorney knows what has happened. The law does not permit the coroner to discharge any person.

Coroner’s juries are impaneled by that official to meet his own preconceived ideas and prejudices. There is no requirement that a coroner’s juror must even be able to read or write. The salary is $7 a day, and the Coroner has his favorites. Some men served as many as 31 times last year.