Liberated Spirits
Page 19
In his letter to Senator Wesley Jones, Revelle asked if he would meet with Willebrandt and convince her of the wisdom of using the DOJ’s agents to investigate. Somewhere out there, Alf Oftedal’s Intelligence Unit, already at work, would relish the chance to investigate Hubbard, seizing upon anything implicating Whitney and Lyle. Revelle believed in the honesty of Whitney and Lyle, but worried that if the accusations made against Hubbard proved true, “the enemies of this work and this great movement would shout and yell and ridicule.” “And yet,” Revelle admitted, “if we don’t meet the situation and at once prove the truth or falsity of these charges, and that they should break some other way, then we would be all accused of covering these things out.”53
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In the spring of 1927, the Women’s National Republican Club sent a survey to its members to gauge their attitudes about Prohibition and, more importantly, Prohibition laws and enforcement. Only 107 of almost a thousand respondents were satisfied with existing laws; the rest were split nearly evenly between favoring outright repeal and modification of the law to make it effective. The overwhelming majority of women, 817, felt there had been no improvement in public morals and an almost equal number saw disrespect for the law on the rise. A majority said crime and drinking had gone up as a result of Prohibition.54 The New York Evening Post said the survey offered “one more proof that the ‘woman vote’ cannot be ticketed and counted upon to be different from the ‘man vote.’”55 The Philadelphia Ledger suggested women’s “indifference” at the voting booth might change in the 1928 election, as Prohibition, a women’s issue, seemed likely to become a major factor in the campaign, giving “politicians some uneasiness.”56
Muddying the waters for career politicians, who were busy trying to assess the sentiments and voting preferences of women, the Women’s National Committee on Law Enforcement, in conference shortly after the WNRC released its survey results, issued a reminder that the survey was small and did not represent the views of most women. Ella Boole of the WCTU echoed those comments, touting the voting strength of her organization’s 300,000 members. Mrs. Edward White, vice president of the General Federation of Women’s Clubs, had not heard about the survey, despite claiming to be a “fairly prominent Republican” in her state. Mrs. White and Mrs. Boole joined with others at the conference to endorse a resolution protesting the WNRC poll and any suggestion that it represented the sentiments of women.57
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After a winter and spring of rum-running, Roy Olmstead’s luck finally ran out. On May 9, 1927, the Circuit Court of Appeals, by a vote of two to one, upheld the Olmstead convictions. The circuit court had reviewed only the assertion that wiretapping was unconstitutional; Olmstead’s defense team did not submit a list of the many flagrant violations of court procedure by the prosecution, perhaps because they feared the wrath of Thomas Revelle, who was about to prosecute a second case against Olmstead. Revelle dismissed the opinion of the dissenting judge, who saw wiretapping as a violation of the Constitution, which “was 1000 miles away from the real law in this case.”58 But the dissenting opinion provided a glimmer of hope to Olmstead’s defense team, who promptly issued an appeal to the highest court in the land, allowing Olmstead, once again, to avoid jail.
The circuit court’s decision affirmed Revelle’s reliability and honesty in Willebrandt’s mind, making her decision to initiate a DOJ investigation of the Zev affair much easier. Revelle’s request had read like an admission of guilt by association, but she trusted her district attorney’s motives and integrity. While Willebrandt’s acquiescence pleased Senator Jones, any investigation held the potential to expose the unconventional methods of the Seattle Prohibition Unit office and, specifically, William Whitney.59
On July 29, 1927, two agents from the Department of Justice interviewed Al Hubbard about the rumors that he and Agent Fryant had taken bribes and had turned over $1,000 to Whitney as evidence. Hubbard denied the charge, but he didn’t fabricate a believable story with which to protect himself. On his agent’s salary of $155 a month, he admitted to paying his first wife $150 a month alimony, along with an earlier cash settlement of about $3,000. He had spent $800 on the ring for his second wife and $2,500 on his own ring. As the two investigators plied him for more details of his financial situation, Hubbard could not keep his hubris in check, and he bragged that he owned a boat and several expensive cars. Hubbard’s candor, inexplicable to his interviewers, revealed the tawdry charade he was playing upon Olmstead, Whitney, their respective organizations, and so many others.60
Chapter 10
Calvin Coolidge welcomed fifteen newspaper correspondents into his summer White House office, inside the Rapid City, South Dakota, high school on August 2, 1927, the fourth anniversary of President Warren Harding’s death, and handed each a neatly folded slip of paper with the following statement: “I do not choose to run for President in nineteen twenty-eight.” One reporter asked: “Is there any other comment?” to which Coolidge replied, “None,” sending the correspondents scurrying to telegraphs and telephones to report the bombshell. Prior to this “press conference,” neither Coolidge nor anyone in his administration had even hinted at such a decision.1 Twenty minutes after dispensing the notes, Coolidge left his office, greeted a chief from the Sioux Indian Nation, climbed into his chauffeured car, and returned to the South Dakota State Game Lodge in the Black Hills, where he was spending the summer. Before he reached the lodge, news of his abdication had spread around the country, touching off rampant speculation about the president’s reasons and likely successors.
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Mabel Willebrandt discreetly visited Seattle in late August 1927. After checking into the Olympic Hotel, she had Tom Revelle pick her up and drive around the city for half a day. Careful to be evenhanded, Revelle offered background on the Hubbard situation; he stressed his trust in Whitney and Lyle, but he was anxious to know the truth of the accusations thrown at Hubbard. Willebrandt readily agreed that he had to stand his ground and fight before she put her finger on the key problem, the one that would destroy the careers of so many of those involved: she asked if he “would have to depend upon the testimony of Hubbard in the trial of some of these big conspiracy cases.”2 A sharp pang of worry knifed his heart because the answer was, of course, yes, Hubbard would have a vital role in the second Olmstead trial and in the Zev case. In the end, Revelle stated his belief that the young agent could be trusted.
Just days later, Willebrandt, trying to vacation in Yellowstone National Park with Dorothy, received an urgent telegram from Revelle, who was concerned about reports in the local papers and the wire services that, according to the Prohibition Unit’s headquarters in Washington, D.C., an investigation was under way into the possible corruption of his district’s Prohibition Unit. Revelle had hoped the investigation would remain a secret until its results were conclusive. When his boss didn’t respond, Revelle sent a second, frenzied telegram two days later: “Such interviews and publicity thereof will of necessity reflect upon every agent to be used as witnesses in pending conspiracy cases and in large measure destroy their credibility before jury.” Hoping to control the damage, he asked Willebrandt, “Wire to those responsible for such publicity to discontinue same?” Advised two days later that based upon the DOJ’s investigation Agents Hubbard and Fryant were to be suspended, Revelle wrote Willebrandt, “Suspension will result in failure” in the Zev case and the pending trial against Roy Olmstead. “Convinced conspiracy on hand to defeat trial of these cases. Defeat of trial of cases can never be explained in this district. All believers in law in this district will believe action deliberately planned to save large rumrunners and grafters.” Though this was a Treasury Department matter, he had faith in Willebrandt’s ability to influence the outcome. “Can you not stop such action until I will be able to confer personally with [Prohibition Commissioner James] Doran?”3
&
nbsp; Willebrandt ignored Revelle’s request to be summoned to Washington, D.C., but promised to wire “Washington your views” although DOJ department policy, and basic logic, dictated “we cannot demand Treasury Department keep men in their department if they have lost confidence in them.” She supported his aggressive moves to prosecute pending cases, promised to “back your office in trial,” and concluded with a carefully worded warning: “It has uniformly been my experience in many situations similar to yours in many parts of the country, where similar fears were expressed of loss of cases because of dismissal of agent, the case can be won anyway if the testimony is true.” Put another way, she was not joining the growing list of officials who were protecting Al Hubbard, nor did she think it wise for Revelle to do so.
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In late August, Roy Lyle received a phone call from Dr. James Doran, Prohibition commissioner, informing him that Hubbard and Fryant had been suspended. Lyle called the action “arbitrary” and had the sinking feeling the decision had been made days earlier. Defending his action, Doran put the onus on Willebrandt, who had reviewed the Treasury Department’s files relating to the matter and endorsed the suspensions. Whether she had made her decision before or after her correspondence with Revelle was not recorded, but her advice to him, to remain aloof, suggested her inclinations and should have served as a reminder to the district attorney of where his loyalties should lie. Doran, whose bureau Willebrandt appeared to be running, cautioned Lyle not to let himself or his staff appear to defend Hubbard or Fryant, men Doran regarded with a great deal of skepticism.4
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Pauline Sabin’s stature in New York politics grew steadily as she proved herself a capable fund-raiser and campaigner, knowledgeable on a variety of issues, not just those relegated to the domain of women, and willing to take firm stands for her beliefs.5 While loyal to the Republican Party, Sabin did not allow herself to become doctrinaire, holding so hard to the party line that her own opinions might have become obscured. Proof of her independence came in the off-year elections of 1927, when several amendments to the New York State constitution were proposed, including one that would extend the term of office for the governor from two to four years. Sabin was asked by a New York City radio station to participate in a debate with Eleanor Roosevelt on the proposed amendment, and each woman took the opposite position of her party: Sabin supported the amendment, saying it would allow the governor more time to govern than campaign. Mrs. Roosevelt insisted voters would become uninterested if forced to wait every four years for an election of significance.6 The debate showcased the growing influence of radio to inform and shape political discourse. The station asked its listeners to phone, telegraph, or mail their votes for the winner of the debate. Listeners gave the edge to Sabin by a hefty margin, but voters at the polls defeated the measure.7
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The second Olmstead trial opened on October 17, 1927, nearly two years after his arrest at Woodmont Beach, but the King of the Bootleggers was not in the courtroom. He had elected to hide out, believing his absence might make things easier for his codefendants.8 Thomas Revelle would not try Olmstead in absentia, but he would not delay the trial, either; Olmstead’s case would be separated from the rest and saved for a later day.
Revelle had his star witness, Al Hubbard, recount the events of Thanksgiving Day of 1925 at Woodmont Beach and name all those involved in the planning of the operation and their roles in Olmstead’s liquor ring. Hubbard moved quickly, following Revelle’s lead, perhaps hoping to jump over questions that might arise should the defense counsel have the time to consider for more than a few seconds any of Hubbard’s answers. But, already shaky in his recollections and demeanor, Hubbard wilted under cross-examination when he had to admit his recent suspension from the Prohibition Unit. No doubt a seed was planted in the jury’s mind that Hubbard had something to hide.
Knowing how Hubbard’s testimony would be attacked, Revelle called to the stand Prohibition agent Russell Jackson, Hubbard’s partner on that night, to corroborate Hubbard’s version of events. Revelle had seen Agent Jackson “hobnobbing with the defense counsel” and heard rumors that Jackson was no longer loyal to the unit, but Whitney, as usual, had faith in his men, and Revelle had no other option. When Jackson took the stand, though, Whitney watched in horror as his own agent testified that when he and his comrades rushed the beach, they “found Hubbard there laying planks on the wharf” to aid in the landing. When the agents arrested the smugglers, Jackson asserted, “Hubbard turned to Olmstead and said, ‘Roy, they have caught us this time.’”9 Revelle was dumbfounded, unable to think up a plausible excuse for Hubbard’s actions.10
The trial moved much more quickly than the first involving the Olmstead conspiracy. Only a week after the trial began, both sides rested their cases and the jurors quickly reached their verdict. Fourteen of the thirty-six defendants were found guilty. Revelle was incensed at Jackson’s betrayal and angry at a verdict that let off so many guilty men (in his assessment “everyone at trial was guilty as charged”). The trial had demonstrated how others—the jury, the press, the public—could easily see Hubbard’s undercover work as a criminal enterprise, a scheme that implicated not just the Prohibition Unit but Revelle himself. Yet there was no easy way to rectify the problem. Revelle confided to Willebrandt, “Personally, I am very strongly convinced from our experience here in the last two or three weeks, that even though Hubbard and Fryant took money, yet there is no possible hope of ever successfully trying them for the same.”11 Revelle had just admitted to the assistant attorney general of the United States that he had used crooked agents to convict the bootleggers and he could not now prosecute the agents without undoing the convictions.
“Because of the undercover influence that is manifestly active and vigorous in the city against him,” he informed the attorney general’s office, “I will not be very highly justified in using him in any other cases except the Zev case.”12 His plan to use Albert Hubbard in another trial, a violation of the ethics he so often proclaimed, indicated just how lost the U.S. District Attorney for the Twentieth District had become. He would do anything to win the upcoming Zev case.
On November 8, Olmstead returned to Seattle and turned himself in, ready to face the charges.13 Broke (and having forfeited his bail by missing the trial three weeks earlier), he had to sit in the county jail, waiting for an opening in the court docket.14 It was the first time he had spent more than a few hours under lock and key since his arrest in 1925, but his incarceration lasted only a week. Hubbard testified to the rumrunner’s role at Woodmont Beach, with Whitney adding that Olmstead said he had been caught “red-handed.” Olmstead denied all charges and claimed Revelle had offered him a presidential pardon if he would tell a grand jury about bribing city and county officials. Revelle, forced to take the stand, admitted to meeting with Olmstead, but denied any promises had been made. Confirming Revelle’s fears about the perception surrounding Hubbard, the judge’s instructions to the jury included an admonition not to rely on the statements of government agents who lacked any corroborating evidence or witnesses. After only four hours of deliberation, Olmstead was acquitted. Revelle called the ruling the “grossest miscarriage of justice since I have been in office.”
The infamous rumrunner left the courtroom technically free, but bound for the county jail until he was able to repay the bond he had skipped on two lesser charges. On November 21, 1927, the Supreme Court declined to hear the “whispering wires” appeal, indicating they saw no compelling constitutional question in the wiretap case.15 Olmstead would have to serve the four years and pay the eight-thousand-dollar fine meted out to him nearly a year earlier. Whitney and his comrades were ecstatic at this final victory over Olmstead. After a brief reprieve orchestrated by his attorney, Olmstead, clad in a coat and tie as usual, carried his suitcase down the dock and onto the ship ferrying him to McNeil Is
land Federal Penitentiary on November 29, 1927.16 Arrested in late 1925, the King of the Bootleggers had been out on bail for years, his presence around town a sign of the breakdown in the federal justice system.
He went with his characteristic smile fading from his lips, and gave one last quote to surprised reporters and onlookers: “I’m not complaining. I violated a law, and that is always wrong; now I’m going to pay the penalty society demands for such violation. It is my own fault.”17
The long-awaited victory over Olmstead would have had some salutary effect on Whitney’s reputation within the government as well as in the “dry” community, but it did not remove the taint attached to him. Reorganization of the Prohibition Unit required all employees to reapply for their positions and take a test to confirm their capabilities. Lingering charges of improprieties in Whitney’s expense accounts and his approval of the use of excessive force by his agents meant he would need to do more than just pass a test. James Yaden of the Civil Service Commission arrived to interview Whitney; more than anything else, he wanted to know the role Whitney had played in hiring Al Hubbard and directing his activities. Casting aside personal responsibility, Whitney implicated Roy Lyle, Senator Wesley Jones, District Attorney Thomas Revelle, and Prohibition Commissioner Roy Haynes as approving the hiring of Al Hubbard, and offered a 1925 letter from Lyle to Haynes as proof of their roles.18 In that letter, Lyle had expressed faith in Hubbard’s character, and if he was wrong, “in no way could the government suffer even if it should be felt that he might double cross the government. Hubbard would never be in possession of any knowledge of what the government intended to do in any case, and would not know what plans the government had anyway.”19