Read an Excerpt
Payoffs in the Cloakroom
The Greening of the Michigan Legislature, 1938-1946
By Bruce A. Rubenstein, Lawrence E. Ziewacz Michigan State University Press
Copyright © 1995 Bruce A. Rubenstein and Lawrence E. Ziewacz
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-87013-387-9
CHAPTER 1
THE DEN OF CORRUPTION
I
The corruption that tainted the Michigan legislature in the late 1930s and early 1940s had its origins in the waning days of the unparalleled prosperity of the "Roaring Twenties." During the post-World War I decade, Michigan's booming automobile industry was the core of economic expansion which seemed destined to bequeath permanent wealth to the nation. Unfortunately, many of the state's lawmakers did not view their $3 per working day stipend as an accurate reflection of their worth in this decade of prosperity, and gossip of bribe-taking ran rampant throughout the Capitol City of Lansing. A favorite story of Booth newspaper correspondent Guy Jenkins was the recollection of Fred Green, an austere rural Republican who served as governor from 1927 to 1931, standing with correspondents viewing group portraits of members of the state house and senate. "Fine pictures," someone remarked, and Green shot back solemnly, "Yes, sir. That's one of the finest legislatures that money can buy."
The crash of the stock market and subsequent decline of the country's economy hit Michigan extremely hard. As the depression deepened, tens of thousands of the state's residents lost their jobs and unemployment in 1932 reached 46 percent, nearly double that of the nation as a whole. Disgruntled workers, who were having their wages cut and were threatened with layoffs should they object, began to unionize, and confrontational strikes often led to physical violence against management and its property. By 1937, the prevailing philosophy of Michiganians was to survive by any means possible, and this precept was nowhere more prevalent than with their elected officials.
II
The ultimate weapon utilized to wage war on malfeasance was the grand jury, which, unlike the attorney general's office, possessed subpoena power. While other states utilized a similar system for uncovering political corruption, Michigan was peculiar because it favored a one-man grand jury rather than the more common multi-member structure.
Most spectacular of the early grand jury probes was that of Judge Homer Ferguson who conducted an explosive investigation into illegalities in Wayne County during the years 1939-1942. The unlikely event that triggered Ferguson's probe was the suicide of Mrs. Janet MacDonald, who, with her eleven year old daughter, was found dead in her automobile on Wednesday, August 9, 1939 from carbon monoxide poisoning. What transformed this personal tragedy into sensational headlines throughout the state was that the thirty-six year old divorcee, despondent over being jilted by her lover, a drunken bagman for the mob who delivered protection money to Detroit police officers, left a packet of letters addressed to local newspaper editors and the Federal Bureau of Investigation in which she set forth detailed accounts of her personal knowledge of widespread payoffs and "easy money which flowed from a system of graft and civic corruption."
Despite possessing the damning evidence, Wayne County Prosecutor Duncan McCrea chose not to pursue the case, saying cryptically that he did not wish to be a party to a whitewash of the police department. Frustrated by McCrea's indifference, Detroit City Councilman Philip H. Breitmeyer presented his colleagues a resolution which was passed unanimously recommending a grand jury investigation. Consequently, on August 21, 1939 Homer Ferguson was chosen by his fellow Wayne County Circuit Judges to act as a one-man grand juror to ascertain the validity of MacDonald's charges. Former Berrien County Prosecutor Chester P. O'Hara was designated by the jurist to be his special prosecutor.
Collection of evidence and taking of testimony was painstaking and tedious, but all the hours of toil proved worthwhile when on February 22, 1940, based on information submitted by the grand jury, indictments were handed down against twenty-five individuals, including McCrea, his three chief assistants, former Detroit Police commissioner Fred W. Frahm, two Detroit patrolmen, and Wayne County Sheriff Thomas Wilcox, alleging each was engaged in a conspiracy to protect gambling, prostitution, and other forms of vice through the bribery of public officials. After a January 7, 1941 trial date was established by Circuit Judge Earl C. Pugsley who had been assigned to preside over the proceedings, the beaming short, stocky O'Hara pronounced ebulliently to reporters that this "was only a starting gun, and a pop gun at that."
The two main characters in this drama, McCrea and Wilcox, were colorful local figures whose exploits had achieved, in the eyes of many local residents, the level of folklore by the time of their removal from office by Governor Luren Dickinson in 1940. The fifty-six year old McCrea had been a former lumberjack, railroad brakeman, and self-described "rambler" before moving to Detroit, where he decided to study law at night school while working at a clerical job by day. A bulbous nosed, big cheeked man, violence seemed natural to him and physical altercations became his trademark as both an assistant under Robert S. Toms and Harry S. Toy and during his own tenure as Wayne County's "fighting prosecutor."
Lanky Thomas Wilcox, sixty-one years of age, had come to Detroit in 1917 as a federal agent tracking down draft dodgers. In the mid-1930s he was the city's police commissioner and then was elected Wayne County sheriff. Sporting a diamond studded badge, purchased through involuntary contributions from staff members who complained they had donated an amount far in excess of the worth of the glittering symbol of authority, the bespectacled sheriff was a comedic caricature of a lawman, once piously proclaiming to a chortling audience that he wished to reduce the theft of chickens by having each bird identified by a tattoo.
What would prove to be the prosecution's first big break came a day prior to the trial's onset when Wayne County Undersheriff Barney McGrath, a defendant in the case, turned state's evidence. This shocking admission of wrong-doing created a domino effect, as shortly thereafter Gustave Pines, self-confessed collector for Wilcox, admitted his guilt and was followed quickly down the path of soul-cleansing by Sam Block, a collector for McCrea.
Devastating testimony against McCrea was offered almost immediately by Bernard A. Boggio, an assistant Wayne County prosecutor, who swore that he had turned over to his employer $1,000, which he had received from Everett Watson, a leader of the rackets in Detroit. Rising with a lurch from his chair, the bushy-browed, gap-toothed McCrea vehemently refuted this allegation, shouting: "You know that's a lie. I never saw Watson before this inquiry. I never took a dollar from a gambler in my life."
As the three-month long trial neared its conclusion, forty-three year old Harry Colburn administered the knockout blow to the former Wayne County Prosecutor by turning state's evidence. On April 3, the puffy cheeked former tailor took the stand to bare his soul.
"How did you handle the graft money for McCrea?" O'Hara asked the ill-at-ease, chalky-complexioned witness.
"I generally did it in person and in cash and generally in McCrea's office," Colburn said so softly that he had to be instructed by Judge Pugsley to speak louder. "The money was in cash, not even in envelopes. It was paid each month. Sam Block would give me the slips showing where the money came from and who paid it, but McCrea never looked at the slips. He would say, 'Oh, keep those. It'll be all right. I'm not worried."
"When did this racket start?" inquired O'Hara.
"It all started in 1935, shortly after McCrea became prosecutor," Colburn said, refusing to look at his former friend who sat placidly with his thumbs hooked in his vest pockets while he chewed gum. "He decided to set up a graft agency. McCrea said if we're smart, we could make some money together and not get hurt."
"How could you make this money?" interrupted the Special Prosecutor.
"McCrea explained by collecting from illegal enterprises without promising too much. I was supposed to make the collections, but after one attempt in which I failed, I suggested that we should get someone we could trust who could handle it for us. It was then that graft collections from gambling and bawdy houses was turned over to Block, who worked on a ten percent commission. Of the balance, I received one-third and McCrea the remainder."
"How much did you receive?"
"My share was $52,000," admitted the witness, running his hands through his dark hair.
"Then McCrea's cut was $104,000," calculated O'Hara, as he walked away. "No further questions, but I reserve the right to recall Mr. Colburn."
McCrea, acting as his own counsel, awkwardly rose to his feet and began cross-examining Colburn in a gentle tone. "Harry," he cooed, "you and I have been friends for many years, haven't we?"
"Yes, Dunc."
"I even loaned you $1,000 before you came to work for me, didn't I?"
"Yes."
"And up until ten minutes before you pleaded guilty you were saying I was innocent of all these charges, weren't you?" McCrea asked, a smile etched on his ruddy face.
"Yes," replied Colburn, his eyes clouding with tears.
"You've been sick a long time, haven't you, Harry?" asked McCrea.
"Well, not really sick," the witness hedged.
"Well, Harry," McCrea went on, "didn't I suggest to you several years ago that you should go to the Mayo Brothers Clinic for treatment of your nerves?"
"Yes."
"And haven't you visited two Detroit psychiatrists for treatment?"
"Yes."
"No further questions today, Harry," chortled McCrea, unwrapping a new stick of gum as he returned to his seat.
As he stepped down from the witness box, Colburn broke into tears and collapsed into a nearby chair, where he was consoled by his eldest son. "It was a terrible ordeal," he gasped between choking sobs. "I love that man [McCrea]. I hope nobody thinks I was drilling it into him."
Several days later, on rebuttal questioning by O'Hara, Colburn was much more composed. "McCrea approached me on March 24 after the testimony of Bernard A. Boggio," Colburn related in a steady voice. "McCrea told my wife, 'I don't like the look of things. Harry hasn't got a chance. He'll be convicted and get a long prison sentence.' I told McCrea that he had always led me to believe I had a fighting chance. He replied that he didn't want to upset me. He told me: 'You are a sure pop to go to prison. You are a sick man, and you've got to be sick so we can get a mistrial or neither of us has a chance. You go to bed and stay there. Now I've given you a chance.'"
"What did you do then," commanded O'Hara.
"I objected because I said I would be found out by the doctors," Colburn stated frankly. "McCrea replied: 'Tell the doctors you've got a humming in your head. Pound the walls and tear your hair. In six months you'll have a better chance in a trial than now.'"
After O'Hara concluded, McCrea stepped forward once again to confront his old ally. After repeatedly failing to shake Colburn's testimony, McCrea lost his temper.
"You know you never gave me ten cents in your life, Harry," McCrea sneered. "But never mind that. What about all the previous testimony you gave supporting me?"
"God," Colburn said in anguish, "you know that was all false, Dunc. I did it to try to save you."
When put on the stand by O'Hara, McCrea was asked why he had not initiated a probe into the allegations of graft. "I lacked sufficient investigators," was the lame response.
"Wasn't the real reason," O'Hara shot back fiercely, "that you had been taking dough along with other officers in the Detroit Police Department?"
"No," McCrea responded softly.
"Why were hundreds of gambling warrants found in bank safety deposit boxes owned by you, Mr. McCrea?" O'Hara inquired.
"I don't recall," came the feeble retort.
On April 24, McCrea, no longer self-assured and arrogant, made his final argument to the jury. In an often disjointed four hour discourse, McCrea asserted that Block kept any graft money for himself or, if not, gave it to Colburn who retained it to pay off a judgment against him by the Internal Revenue Service. Fearful that he may have bored the veniremen over the duration of the trial, McCrea concluded by pleading that they "forget and forgive" anything he may have said and base their verdict entirely upon the facts as he had pointed them out.
After McCrea, Wilcox's attorney, George S. Fitzgerald, made an impassioned plea on behalf of his client. "Does the average man wait to go crooked," he shouted, "until he is fifty-seven years of age? That's the story they would like to have you believe about Tom Wilcox. This is more than just another lawsuit with me. I've known Tom Wilcox since 1924 when he was connected with the Federal Bureau of Investigation and I was a member of the Customs. I have known this man throughout the years, and I have never heard that he was connected with any business that wasn't open and above board."
In his summation to the jury, O'Hara hammered on the purpose of the trial. "I have no apologies to make to you, to the people of Wayne County and the State of Michigan, for the case we have presented here. We have attempted to bring to you the story—the true story—of what corruption went on between racketeers and public officials," he said earnestly. "We cannot delve into a situation where gamblers and women of shame are involved and get the true story by bringing in substantial citizens as witnesses. We must go to those places and bring the people who work in those places to testify. I have no animosity in this case. I know that I have been abused at times when personalities have been injected into the trial. The prosecutor always has to take that when the case of the defense is weak. And I know my neck has turned red. This is my nature. I'm Irish, and I flare up easily. But I do not hate McCrea, as he would like to have you believe. I don't hate Wilcox, as he would like to have you believe. I simply seek justice for them."
Judge Pugsley began his charge to the jury at 3 p.m., Saturday, April 26, concluding with the admonition: "A man's good character should be given consideration by the jury, but if you find beyond a reasonable doubt that a man is guilty as charged, his character, however grand and noble in the past, must give way to the inevitable result of crime, for crime washes out and gives blank the past history of good character." At 5:12 in the afternoon, the jury began its deliberations, and the following morning it brought in guilty verdicts against all but one of the twenty-five defendants.
After accepting congratulations from well-wishers, O'Hara held a brief press conference. "I am naturally pleased that the jury has placed its stamp of approval on our work," the smiling Irishman stated. "There is still much to do. Of course, it does not make me happy to see these persons suffer. Their difficulties, however, are of their own making. We are merely doing a job and will continue to the best of our ability."
McCrea grabbed reporters as they passed to profess his innocence. "The verdict returned by the jury was not only contrary to the weight of the evidence, but to that of the law," he railed. "It is based on the unsupported testimony of a self-confessed criminal. I shall continue to fight for vindication to the highest court of the land, if necessary. I am confident that the verdict will be set aside. The law is very clear on the point that the unsupported testimony of a criminal must be disregarded if other witnesses deny it."
Wilcox, demonstrably shaken by the outcome, sputtered: "Of course, I'll appeal this case to the United States Supreme Court, if need be." His chief deputy, Carl J. Staebler, raised the post-trial commentary to a higher plane when he offered a thoughtful explanation as to why guilty verdicts had been rendered against the defendants: "The jury has been influenced by the chaotic conditions and unrest brought about by the war, and all public officials are now under suspicion." For whatever reason, the message had been sent forth: Michigan would no longer ignore graft and corruption committed by its public officials.
III
Emboldened by the success of Judge Ferguson, the search for improprieties among lawmakers moved beyond the confines of Wayne County when, on August 13, 1943, six members of the Detroit Citizens' League petitioned Attorney General Herbert J. Rushton to establish a one-man grand jury to look into charges that members of the state legislature had been accepting money from lobbyists. "We are convinced," contended Citizens' League secretary William P. Lovett, who had spearheaded the movement against McCrea and Wilcox, "after a careful investigation for six months, that graft was paid to certain members of the legislature to defeat the anti-chain banking bill, which prohibits the establishment of any more chain banks in Michigan. During the last three sessions there have been reports about the buying and selling of votes to defeat this bill. As a result of our own investigation, we were able to present voluminous reports in writing, with facts, figures, and overt acts of corruption, to the State Attorney General."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Payoffs in the Cloakroom by Bruce A. Rubenstein, Lawrence E. Ziewacz. Copyright © 1995 Bruce A. Rubenstein and Lawrence E. Ziewacz. Excerpted by permission of Michigan State University Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
