Category: Supreme Court

  • The (Small-l) Libertarian Case For a Non-Libertarian President

    What is libertarianism’s best strategy to gain a legitimate amount of power nationally (and then happily cede it to the people)?  Libertarians of the small-l and big-L varieties have sought to gain power by either co-opting one of the major political parties (See; Ron Paul Revolution that the GOP squashed) or by finding candidates to run as a Libertarian that appeal to establishment voters (see: Aleppo).  But I believe there is a third, and overlooked, option: get a candidate who does some libertarian things that irritate the major parties and the deep state apparatus, and allow those actions to result in political hysterics from ultra-partisans while average Americans see no net loss from the actions and in many cases a serious net gain.  I believe this will continue to set in motion a series of events where the government can be shrunk to a level that’s at least tolerable to minarchists and other run-of-the-mill libertarians.

    How libertarian is President Donald Trump?

    The answer is: not very. I think that’s been established.  The man swam in a pool of cronyism sharks his entire professional life. He, through desire or necessity, has been a rent-seeker. He has used eminent domain to further his projects. He has sought special treatment from political entities both domestic and foreign to further his interests.  The man is no altruist. But does that make him distasteful, or does it make the system in which he operated distasteful?  Personally, I will rarely fault someone for utilizing the same processes his competition would use, so long as it does not originate from a position of government authority.  And Trump never held office before his inauguration.  In other words, he never utilized political office for financial gain by, say, orchestrating government access to foreign actors that overwhelmingly donated to your personal foundation or for trade groups and banks that hired your unqualified husband to give speeches at ridiculously over-inflated fees.  In other words, I don’t hate the player, I hate the game.

    And yes,  Trump is allowing Jeff Sessions to wage the drug war, which is a sticking point to a lot of libertarian minds. But I ask you, is it better to wage a drug war and uphold the concepts of equal protection and the rule of law (while allowing Congress to do their job and vote to legalize drugs the right way)? Or is it better to arbitrarily enforce duly enacted laws based on the geography of a person and/or their willingness to bend a knee to the state and support legalization with a ton of unlibertarian strings attached?

    The sadder these people are, the happier I get.

    Some policy positives already achieved and in the works:

    So now we come to Donald Trump’s libertarianism or lack thereof.  The man, no doubt, will continue some of our military adventurism overseas.  But he has already stopped our policy of running guns to terrorists and terrorist-sympathizers in Libya and Syria after the previous admin established those programs and destabilized an entire region, while thoroughly destroying the likelihood that a rogue regime would abandon its weapons programs and try to re-enter the international community (read: we came, we saw, he died). There has been no resurrection of the programs nthe last two administrations ran to ship guns into Mexico through the drug cartels, for different motives yet still in gross violation of Mexican sovereignty.  And perhaps he will continue to not carry out targeted assassinations of American citizens that have never been charged with a crime, which the prior admin was all too happy to do in gross violation of the Fourth Amendment.  Furthermore, he has already started to roll back our country’s association with liberty-robbing agreements like the Paris Climate Accord and the Trans-Pacific Partnership. Both of those agreements undercut the ability for American companies and consumers to freely negotiate what they were willing to exchange goods and services for. Removing our name from them is a step in the right direction, especially if it’s followed up with free trade agreements that haven’t existed in a century or more. That action is yet to be seen, but at least someone had the audacity to upset the globalist apple cart and stop a little bit of the insanity those agreements put us further along the path to.

    Get us out of this circus, please!

    As for civil liberties, Trump is still an unknown quantity.  His statement about “roughing up” suspects is problematic to say the least. And I can only hope it was hollow bluster. But even so, it sets a very poor example and he should correct it immediately.  Now, having said that, he has not furthered Obama’s policy of killing Americans without due process, but that’s not going to be enough.  His willingness to stop going after businesses that exercise what should be a fundamental right to free association looks good so far. As do his overtures to Second Amendment causes. As does his willingness to tackle Affirmative Action and Title IX insanity.  Holy crap, I just realized he’s been the best president on civil liberties we’ve had in recent memory. People that overlook the substance of these actions due to his boorishness need to reassess what their priorities are, in my opinion.

    Furthermore, our business climate has benefited greatly from having an outsider installed as the head of the regulatory apparatus.  Trump has already vowed, and started to carry out, a dismantling of the bureaucracies that stifle economic growth and freedom for Americans.  From the onerous EPA regulations to CAFE standards being rolled back or passed to the states, there has been a serious uptick in confidence from the business and manufacturing sectors that Trump will get the government out of the way of prosperity.  The hilarious irony there is that Trump was a crony his entire life, as I mentioned earlier.  But perhaps he had no choice but to play the game the only way that could lead to success: do what the government tells you and push others out.  Now, when given the reins, he seems to be more than willing to eliminate programs that he personally benefited from but that create barriers to entry for others.  Yes, he could have opposed the system while benefiting from it. But let’s not pretend he’s some awful hypocrite because he played the hand he was dealt. Business “leaders” like Elon Musk, Mark Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg, Bill Gates, etc, etc, etc have done the same thing and so did their forefathers like Ford, Carnegie, Mellon, and others on back through the ages as long as there was a government agent with a hand in their pocket.  So I’m willing to forgive that.

    Be happy for this.

    And lastly, he put what appears to be a strict constructionist on the Supreme Court in Neil Gorsuch.  That is a marked improvement on any names mentioned by establishment candidates on either side of the aisle during the last campaign.

    The other intangible positive results of a Trump presidency:

    Another thing libertarians have always sought is a diminished reverence for elected officials and other “public servants” whose goals are often at odds with those of the people.  Trump’s mere presence has caused probably 2/3 of the political spectrum to demand the reverence for the office be scaled back.  They are now calling for more power in the hands of the states or localities and even ::gasp:: the people, on occasion.  These are people that have been statists to the core. They are the Big Government democrats and NeoCon statist Republicans.  And they are finally unified in an effort to diminish the role of the Executive Branch.  This serves to re-establish the separation of powers that has become all-too-muddy with much of the congressional responsibilities being passed to Executive Branch agencies in an attempt to deflect responsibility and ensure easy reelection for entrenched politicians.  The more responsibility that is pushed back into the laps of our directly elected officials and down to the state or local level, the better for us.  It helps us create a more diverse political environment where “laboratories of democracy” are able to compete for ideas and human investment, rather than an all-powerful centralized state controlling everything. And one need look no further than minimum wage laws (since we have them, I’ll address it) to realize a top-down approach where the minimum wage “needed” in New York is imposed on small towns in New Mexico or Wyoming, where the cost of living doesn’t even come close, is a horrific idea.  The Trump era is returning us to an ideal the founders embraced in that respect.

    And he is returning us to another ideal the founders cherished: temporary service from business-people and non-careerist politicians.  The flood of people on Trump’s coattails from all sides of the political spectrum is refreshing. Sure, many are moneyed and or celebrity candidacies. But so what?  Its a step in the right direction any time we start to end political dynasties and careerists that sit in the Senate for 30 years as they grow further and further out of touch from average Americans.  More turnover from political novices has a much better potential upside of shrinking our government than does further entrenching those who have pushed us to near financial ruin and reduced individual liberty.

    Pucker up!

    The net result so far (in my opinion):

    So let us all embrace the non-libertarian president. For one of these reasons or for another I might have missed. But embrace it nonetheless, because it has already borne libertarian fruit, and I suspect it will continue to do so for many of the right and some of the wrong reasons. Its the best we could have hoped for and probably the most libertarian moment in America for a hundred years.

  • The states and grand juries, Part Two: Historical vignettes of grand juries under siege

    Introduction

    “No state shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States…” – Fourteenth Amendment, U. S. Constitution

    “No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war or public danger…” – Fifth Amendment, U. S. Constitution

    We saw in Part One how, according to the Supreme Court, the Fourteenth Amendment doesn’t require the states to obey the grand-jury clause of the Fifth Amendment. Most of the Bill of Rights has been applied to the state – “incorporated” is the technical term – but not this part.

    (In its incorporation cases, the Supreme Court likes to talk in terms of “due process,” but here’s Justice Clarence Thomas explaining how the Privileges and Immunities Clause is what we should be looking at.)

    For the most part, when the U. S. Supreme Court exempts the states from part of the Bill of Rights, most states don’t take advantage of this. With some exceptions, the states chose on their own to obey the Bill of Rights, even when the Supremes wouldn’t hold them to it – state courts would sometimes interpret some rights differently than the federal courts, but they admitted the rights were applicable, if only as a matter of state law.

    That’s not the case with the grand-jury clause. Here, the Supremes opened the door for the states to disobey this clause, and the states rushed through the open door.

    Between the Civil War and the end of the First World War, many American states amended their constitutions so that suspects could go to trial for serious crimes without the approval of a grand jury (Michigan had started the ball rolling on the eve of the Civil War). This analysis summarizes the situation as of 2014. In most cases, grand juries were kept in reserve in case the prosecutors, in their discretion, wanted to use the grand jury procedure. Only two states – Pennsylvania and Connecticut (I would probably add Michigan) – banned grand juries even as an option (apart from extraordinary cases). Twenty-three holdout states still mandated that certain serious crimes be reviewed by grand juries, at least if the suspect demanded it.

    Rather than give a comprehensive history of the victories of “reformers” who curtailed grand-jury rights in state after state, let me attempt to give some historical vignettes, and tie these vignettes together with some semblance of narrative coherence. Then later, I’ll give an account of the triumph of the reformers in their battle against the grand jury.

     

    The Plessy Judge vs. Grand Juries

    U. S. Supreme Court Justice Henry Billings Brown came to the Court too late to take part in the  Hurtado case, which said the states could limit or abolish the right of a suspect to have his case considered by a grand jury. But Brown was one of the many would-be reformers of that era who wanted the institution of the grand jury largely abolished.

    "Don't let the author of the post fool you - just because I said something doesn't make it wrong...that's just guilt by association! My being wrong was an accident which could have happened to anyone."
    Justice Henry Billings Brown

    Brown gave a speech to the Ohio Bar Association in 1892 that included the judge’s discussion of this issue. Getting rid of grand juries, said Brown, would make criminal procedure more simple and efficient. Brown noted that he had begun his legal career in Connecticut, where grand-jury indictments were only required for crimes punishable with death or life imprisonment. Then Brown boasted of his fifteen-year legal career in Michigan (1860-1875), where grand juries were rarely used and were never required before a defendant could be brought to trial.

    Brown suggested that grand juries may have been necessary in England to protect suspects against false charges by private accusers, but this problem didn’t exist in America. In America there were public prosecutors to bring charges and judges to rule on probable cause, and with these steadfast public servants on the job, Brown triumphantly concluded, grand juries were no longer necessary to shield suspects from wrongful accusations.

    Brown went on to praise trial juries for their power of nullification – they could spare a guilty defendant, if punishing him went against local community norms. Of course, grand juries could perform that function too, sparing worthy but technically guilty suspects from the ordeal of a trial, not to mention saving them many legal expenses. That did not seem to occur to the Justice. “I think the question whether a man in a particular case should be punished for a crime is a question that is properly left to the public,” Brown said. But under Brown’s scheme, the nullification of an unfair charge would have to wait until the end of an excruciating trial for the suspect, since “the public” would only be able to get a word in edgewise after the trial was over. The public would be kept out of the decision of whether to bring charges in the first place.

    Another defect in Brown’s logic is apparent with the growth of the plea-bargaining system, which requires a defendant to gamble on the possibility of a higher sentence if he wants to try his luck with a trial jury.

    Brown concluded his speech with a boast that “[t]he Anglo-Saxon is a slow-moving race, but it rarely takes a step backward. It makes mistakes, but its progress has been in the right direction. No serious mistakes have yet been made.”

    Speaking of serious Anglo-Saxon mistakes: four years after his speech, Brown again showed his ability to have things both ways and to spin nice-sounding legal theories which were oppressive in practice. Brown gave the Supreme Court’s decision in Plessy v. Ferguson. States could pass Jim Crow legislation separating blacks and whites, Brown’s opinion declared, so long as the separate facilities were “equal” (Justice John Marshal Harlan dissented in the Plessy case – Harlan had also defended the right to a grand jury in his dissent in the Hurtado case). Brown had affirmed the importance of equal protection under the law, while negating this principle in practice with his endorsement of racial segregation. In a similar manner, Brown had praised trial juries for their power of nullification, while calling for the abolition of grand juries which were in the best position to nullify charges against a suspect before he could be dragged through the court system.

    Justice Brown gave a great speech, he wrote a textbook on admiralty law, but do they call him Justice Brown the textbook writer? But give one racist decision...
    Plaque on Homer Plessy’s tomb, New Orleans

     

    Grand juries as scapegoats for police abuse

    The fact that one of the most infamous racists in American judicial history wanted to abolish grand juries hasn’t stopped modern, hip and woke activists from throwing the racism charge at grand juries themselves.

    In Minnesota, a proposed state constitutional amendment on the 1904 ballot would abolish the right to a grand jury and empower the legislature to decide how prosecutions were to be initiated – and it was correctly anticipated that the legislature would allow the elected county prosecutors to bring charges without grand jury approval. This concerned an anonymous “Voter,” who wrote to The Princeton Union to warn against the amendment. This voter was more skeptical about the professionalism of prosecutors than Justice Brown had been:

    The grand jury is a body of citizens who are selected regardless of political belief or creed….[T]he law throws around them secrecy in their actions and they are entirely removed from all political taint or influence. It very often happens that county attorneys are not men wholly competent to exercise powers ordinarily delegated to a grand jury. Much of our politics is run on the “good fellow” plan and sometimes men are kept in office for being good fellows or for various reasons, regardless of qualifications or fitness for office….[County attorneys] are human and to say that their judgment in a case would be as good as as that of the members of a grand jury would be to make an extravagant statement.

    This joke is not intended as criticism of any specific living person
    The “good fellow” plan

    A majority of Minnesotans went ahead and approved the amendment despite these arguments, and the legislature proceeded to give county attorneys the option of bringing charges without using grand juries. Grand juries would still be held in reserve if the prosecutor wanted to employ them, but suspects would no longer have the right to have their cases considered by grand juries. The optional system necessarily gives grand juries a bad odor – prosecutors who use grand juries when they don’t have to do so are often hiding behind the grand jurors’ skirts in order to pass the buck for controversial decisions. And sometimes the public falls for it.

    In 2015, two Minneapolis cops confronted and shot Jamar Clark, who died of his injuries. The fact that Clark was black made the issue particularly volatile. Protesters demanded that the county attorney, Mike Freeman, investigate the shooting without involving a grand jury. Freeman had this option thanks to the voters’ decision back in 1904.

    "Please take away rights from these people we don't like!"
    Minneapolis protesters in the Clark case

    The protesters got their wish. Freeman announced that his office would no longer use grand juries when investigating shootings by police. The president of the Minneapolis NAACP, Nekima Levy-Pounds, said:

    I am overjoyed that in this instance Mike Freeman decided to do the right thing. Mike Freeman is fully aware that the grand jury process has been ineffective here and nationally in holding officers accountable. I believe sustained community pressure played a huge role in Mike Freeman’s decision.

    Then Freeman, without the help of a grand jury, announced he wouldn’t be bringing charges. The omission of a grand jury didn’t placate the protesters. An NAACP spokesperson (not Levy-Pounds) said, “You, Mr. Freeman, did not give a fair and accurate portrayal…and let me tell you: If the city burns, it’s on your hands.”

    Last I heard, Minneapolis was still standing, though the shooting did provoke some protests. Nevertheless, cutting the grand jury out of the loop in the Clark case didn’t ease community tensions, or lead to charges being filed (assuming for the sake of argument that charges ought to have been filed).

    The opposition to grand juries was exacerbated when a grand jury in Missouri failed to charge Officer Darren Wilson for shooting Michael Brown. The grand jury’s decision sparked riots. But the Obama/Holder Justice Department, examining the evidence against Wilson, also decided not to bring charges, and there was no grand jury involvement in that decision. So a grand jury took the rap for taking the same position on a racially-charged police shooting as the country’s two top-ranked race-baiters.

    (Click here for an article about a controversy over using grand juries in police-abuse cases in California.)

     

    Grand juries came first

    The grand jury system was itself created through the actions of a would-be reformer, Henry II of England. The ruler who encouraged St. Thomas Becket’s assassination…

    "Stop resisting!"

    …was not a civil libertarian, but he “built better than he knew” in creating the grand jury. Henry was thinking more in terms of law and order when he decreed that panels of his subjects would be summoned and commanded to report about crime in their localities. What Henry wanted was to root out criminals who had managed to evade justice. Before Henry’s decree, bringing alleged criminals to trial in the secular courts required a private accuser to voluntarily come forward, risking punishment if he failed to prove his charge – and risking retaliation from the criminal. Henry knew that there were criminals running around who were known to the general public, but not known to the courts, since nobody had the guts to make a formal accusation. Not to mention that England was an occupied country whose rulers spoke a foreign language (French) and might not be au courant with the news circulating among their English-speaking subjects.

    So Henry II’s early versions of grand juries were required to name people in their area who were believed by the public to be guilty of serious crimes. The grand jurors were not making their own investigations or reaching their own conclusions, but were reporting what was widely believed among their neighbors. Malicious local gossip need not be reported – just the solid consensus of public opinion.

    King Henry, the scourge of the Church, was actually adapting a procedure used in England’s Church courts. The Church’s jurists and reformers borrowed from Roman law the maxim that the public interest required crime to be punished. This was in contrast to the Germanic idea of using the justice system to mitigate blood feuds. The descendants of the Germans who conquered the Western Roman Empire wanted people who had mortal grudges against each other to resolve their differences without dragging entire clans into Hatfield/McCoy style, multigenerational cycles of reprisal and counter-reprisal. So if angry relatives came seeking an alleged murderer, the matter would be settled with a trial by battle (if the feud was among aristocrats) or by some form of ordeal (if the feud was among the lower orders) – putting your hand on a burning piece of iron, getting thrown in water to see if you floated, trying to swallow a morsel of bread after boasting of your innocence (choking=guilt). If these methods didn’t identify the criminal with 100% accuracy, at least it was an agreed-upon method, presided over by priests, to settle the feud and move on. And if a crime didn’t spark a feud, or if the victim or their would-be champions were too weak, then it was like “OK, forget about it and let’s have some more mead.”

    "Are you sure this is mead? It's kind of warm and vinegary."

    The Church’s reformers noticed that a lot of crime was overlooked in this way, and that trial procedures left something to be desired in terms of accuracy. So the Church courts, at least in England, came up with a procedure which seemed to inspire Henry II. Instead of waiting for a private individual to take the initiative and prosecute, the Church’s judges would identify a suspect and summon a panel of the suspect’s neighbors to see if public opinion regarded the person as a criminal. If the community wasn’t fairly solid in believing that the suspect committed the crime in question, that was the end of the matter – or rather, any crimes would have to be settled in the “internal forum” (the confessional). But if the community witnesses were like, “yeah, everyone thinks he did it,” then that counted as “fama” – the equivalent of a formal accusation – and a trial would begin.

    King Henry thought that was a good idea, so he created his early version of the grand jury to report to the secular courts about those people whom local public opinion identified as serious criminals. If a person was so reported, the accused would undergo an ordeal – apparently the throw-them-in-water-to-see-if-they-drown ordeal – because the criminal trial jury hadn’t been invented yet. Yes, in criminal cases there was only one jury, and that was the ancestor of the grand jury – and unless you put your reliance in the cold-water ordeal, you better hope that public opinion, as reflected by the grand jury’s accusation, was accurate.

    If they weren't immersed in cold water in ordeals, medieval people would never have taken baths at all
    “So if the water receives my body, I’m innocent? And if I float, I’m guilty, and you execute me? It’s a good thing the grand jury correctly identified me as the murderer, otherwise I’d be really annoyed at this whole procedure.”

    The creation of the English criminal jury was kind of forced on England by the Church. The Fourth Lateran Council in 1215, decided that priests should not preside at ordeals – because priests shouldn’t be shedding blood and because ordeals were not always reliable anyway. Without priests to bless the water ordeal, the practice fell into disuse, and so the English started using trial juries to decide the guilt or innocence of people who had been charged by grand juries with serious crimes.

    Another important decision of the Fourth Lateran Council was in clarifying how church courts would go about ascertaining whether a suspect had a reputation as a criminal, so that the court could proceed in the absence of an individual accuser. It wasn’t enough if the rumors against the suspect were generated by “enemies and slanderers” – the public accusations had to come from “prudent and honest persons, not once only, but often.” Commentators gave Biblical examples: the clamor against the sinners of Sodom and Gomorrah, which prompted God to investigate (Genesis 18:20), and the complaints against the steward in Luke 16:1, which prompted the master to demand an accounting from the steward.

    Since the creation of secular grand juries in England had probably been prompted by church-court procedure, it is not surprising that grand juries, acting on the same principles as the Fourth Vatican Council, undertook to distinguish between true and false public opinion. As the grand jury evolved, it came to do its own investigation, not simply reporting what their neighbors believed. Grand jurors were becoming the representatives of responsible public opinion by acting as “prudent and honest persons” and seeking reliable evidence about suspects.

    But at least people who were accused by grand juries could now look forward to a full trial by another jury, not simply an arbitrary procedure like the water ordeal where one prevails only through blind good fortune. Even today, a small proportion of those who are indicted by grand juries go on to have their cases heard by a trial jury (the rest, of course, resolve their cases by plea-bargains, where the result totally isn’t arbitrary).

     

    Works Consulted

    Bab(b)ington Family – Descendants of John de Babington, http://members.iinet.net.au/~billeah/babingdesc.html

    Henry Billings Brown, “Justice Brown’s Address,” in Proceedings of the Ohio State Bar Association, 13:35-51 (July, 1892).

    Rebecca V. Colman, “Reason and Unreason in Early Medieval Law,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History, 4.4 (Spring, 1974), 571-591.

    Nathan T. Elliff, “Notes on the Abolition of the English Grand Jury,” Journal of Criminal Law and Criminology, Volume 29,Issue 1 (May-June) Summer 1938.

    Richard M. Fraher, “The Theoretical Justification for the New Criminal Law of the High Middle Ages: ‘Rei Publicae Interest, Ne Crimina Remaneant Impunita’” (1984). Articles by Maurer Faculty. 1854.
    http://www.repository.law.indiana.edu/facpub/1854

    Richard. H. Helmholz, “The Early History of the Grand Jury and the Canon Law,” 50 University of Chicago Law Review 613 (1983), online at http://chicagounbound.uchicago.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2484&context=journal_articles

    Finbarr McAuley, “Canon Law and the End of the Ordeal.” Oxford Journal of Legal Studies, Vol. 26, Issue 3, pp. 473-513, 2006.

    Kenneth Pennington, “Introduction to the Courts,” in Wilfried Hartmann and Kenneth Pennington (eds.), The History of Courts and Procedure in Medieval Canon Law. Washington, D. C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2016.

    “Proposed Amendments to the Constitution of Minnesota,” Cook County Herald (Grand Marais, Minn)., Oct. 22, 1904, p. 8, column 1.

    “Shall we abolish the grand jury,” The Princeton union, October 06, 1904, p. 3, column 2, http://bit.ly/2strpg7

    Suja A. Thomas, The Missing American Jury: Restoring the Fundamental Constitutional Role of the Criminal, Civil, and Grand Juries. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016.

    ___________, Nonincorporation: The Bill of Rights after McDonald v. Chicago, Notre Dame Law Review, Vol. 88, 2012.

    Richard D. Younger, The people’s panel: the Grand Jury in the United States, 1634-1941. Providence, RI: American History Research Center, Brown University Press, 1963.

  • The states and grand juries, Part One: The case of an enraged husband leads a couple of former pro-slavers to quarrel over the meaning of the Constitution

    I suppose I don’t have to ask if you’re familiar with the phrase “beaten like a red-headed stepchild.” I am going to describe how one of the rights listed in the Bill of Rights – the right to a grand jury – got that treatment at the hands of the states.

    Today I’ll discuss the U. S. Supreme Court’s role in all this. It was a case the Supremes decided in 1884. I’m going to focus less on legal analysis and more on biographical details about the defendant and the judges who judged him. If I seem to wander away from the specific case in order to describe the lives of the Justices, I hope it doesn’t bore you, but instead helps demythologize these supposed demigods who purport to adjudicate the limits of our liberties.

    And the fact that, given the unpromising backgrounds of these two justices, even one of them (Harlan) was willing to stand up for the Bill of Rights and its red-headed stepchild, the right to a grand jury, is all the more impressive.

    The case involved

    Joseph Hurtado

    …a resident of Sacramento, California who, according to a chronicler of his case, like other “Hispanic men of the era[,] enjoyed nothing better then to cast aside their burdens from a hardscrabble life to frequent pulquerias, or saloons, imbibe prodigious quantities of liquid refreshment, gamble, and hurl epithets at each other” (if the chronicler wasn’t named Martinez, he might get in trouble for that sort of broad generalization).

    File:Templo de la Virgen del Carmen, Celaya, Guanajuato, México 24.jpg
    Saint John of the Cross, a Hispanic man and thus presumably a brawling party animal

    Hurtado was the kind of man you can find among all ethnicities – the kind with a violent temper, especially when provoked. He had already killed a man, but had been acquitted.

    A friend of Hurtado’s, José Estuardo, somehow decided that it would a wise course of action to have an affair with Hurtado’s wife when Hurtado was at work.

    File:Gianciotto Discovers Paolo and Francesca Jean Auguste Dominique Ingres.jpg
    “What’s the worst that could happen?”

    When Hurtado found out, he made Estuardo promise not to do it again – in exchange for this promise, Hurtado let Estuardo live. Then Estuardo broke his promise and went back to banging Hurtato’s wife. Hurtado found out again and attacked Estuardo in the street before getting restrained by passers-by. Estuardo had Hurtado prosecuted for assault – “He is a dangerous man to be at large,” Estuardo warned the court (Estuardo should have thought about that earlier). Hurtado, released anyway, went to a saloon to drink, acted like he was waiting for Estuardo to come by, then he came out and confronted Estuardo, this time shooting Estuardo to death.

    "Shot through the heart and you're to blame, you give love a bad name."
    A picture of a similar incident

    This was, to be sure, a case that looked very much like premeditated murder, though a sympathetic grand jury might have stretched a point and filed lesser charges for this crime passionel. But no grand jury considered the case. Invoking a provision in the state constitution, the prosecutor persuaded a magistrate rather than a grand jury to send the case to trial. Hurtado was charged with capital murder, convicted by a trial jury, and sentenced to death. The rules of evidence at the trial (unlike the more flexible rules of a grand jury hearing) didn’t allow evidence of the adultery, thus depriving the crime of its context (which the grand jury might have considered). The judge suggested commuting the death sentence to life imprisonment. A citizens’ committee complained that the jury should have heard about Estuardo’s adulterous ways. And some locals suggested that Estuardo had simply gotten what was coming to him. But the death sentence stood.

    File:Tombstone courthouse gallows.jpg

    Hurtado went to the U. S. Supreme Court with the claim that he shouldn’t have been brought to trial, because a grand jury had not indicted him. Perhaps Hurtado’s supporters hoped that a grand jury would have reflected some of the local pro-Hurtado sentiment.

    Hurtado invoked the Fourteenth Amendment, especially its guarantee of “due process of law” (the “privileges and immunities” clause had been watered down to homeopathic levels by earlier Supreme Court decisions). According to Hurtado, “due process of law” included the following guarantee from the Fifth Amendment:

    No person shall be held to answer for a capital, or otherwise infamous crime, unless on a presentment or indictment of a grand jury, except in cases arising in the land or naval forces, or in the militia, when in actual service in time of war or public danger…

    This has generally been read to mean roughly that nobody could go on trial for a felony unless a grand jury has first accused him of that felony. And Hurtado’s case involved a “capital…crime,” which was specifically subject to the grand-jury clause. California had not used a grand jury in Hurtado’s case; did the states have to do so, or did this part of the Fifth Amendment apply only to the federal government?

    Hurtado’s conviction was OK, said the U. S. Supreme Court, because the Fourteenth Amendment (contrary to what Hurtado claimed), did not require states to obey the Fifth Amendment’s grand jury clause. Only the federal government had to obey it.

    The case marked a clash between two of the Justices. Both were Republicans who had worked together even before serving on the Court. Both of them veterans of the Union Army in the Civil War. And both of whom had records leaving their support for civil liberties open to question.

    In one corner was the author of the majority opinion,

     

     

    Justice Stanley Matthews

    File:Thomas Stanley Matthews - Brady-Handy.jpg
    Stanley Matthews (not the soccer player)

    Matthews grew up in Cincinnati, but as a young man before the Civil War, Matthews lived in Tennessee, met his wife there, and helped run a Democratic newspaper. His father worried that Matthews would pick up Southern ways from living in the South.

    File:Clark Gable as Rhett Butler in Gone With the Wind trailer cropped.jpg
    “Oh, Dad, don’t be silly, I just happen to like the Rhett Butler look.”

    Matthews moved back to Cincinnati to be a lawyer-politician. He befriended antislavery leaders like Salmon P. Chase and became the editor of the Cincinnati Weekly Herald, and then of the Cincinnati Weekly Globe, which promoted the antislavery Liberty and Free Soil Parties respectively. To Matthews, slavery was now “that awful chain of bondage, which holds three million of immortal souls in hopeless degredation.” Under the Constitution, Matthews wrote, “all men have an indefeasible natural right to freedom.” After all “Who can doubt the essential sin of slavery?”

    Matthews considered joining a Fourierist phalanx (socialist commune), and he flirted with the Know-Nothing party, but ultimately he decided to go back to the Democrats. He remained in the Democratic Party even after most antislavery Democrats had left. The Democrats might be pro-slavery, Matthews thought, but the party could at least defuse the slavery issue and preserve the Union from disintegration.

    Or as Matthews’ biographer William Wantland put it (in a different context, but the remark is applicable to Matthews’ Democratic Party membership): “Torn between the desire to follow a moral path in the political arena and an equally powerful desire to perpetuate an allegiance with friends and maintain avenues of personal advancement, Matthews generally chose the latter course.”

    File:C2E2 2013 - Two Face (8683586201).jpg
    “That’s not true, I give equal consideration to both options.”

    In 1857, Matthews helped the prominent pro-slavery Democrat Clement Vallandigham defend the pro-slavery position. Federal marshals, attempting to enforce the Fugitive Slave Act, shot a county sheriff who was trying to interfere with this enforcement effort. Matthews, Vallandigham and the rest of the marshals’ defense team helped the marshals escape justice for the shooting.

    For supporting the proslavery Democrat James Buchanan for President, Matthews received a reward from a grateful Buchanan: the U. S. Attorney (federal prosecutor) job in southern Ohio. Here Matthews once again engaged in pro-slavery behavior.

    William M. Connelly was a Cincinnati journalist who, when not doing his day job, helped fugitive slaves. Two of the slaves he sheltered were Irwin and Angelina Broadus, a husband and wife who were claimed as slaves by a Kentucky Colonel named C. A. Withers. Accompanied by federal marshals, Withers came to a room which Connelly had provided to shelter the fugitives. Irwin Broadus plunged the blade of a sword-cane into the body of one of the marshals, leaving the blade bloody for eight inches (the marshal survived, or else he would have ended up in the U. S. Marshals’ roll of honor). Withers shot and wounded Irwin Broadus. The federal government sent Broadus and his wife back to Kentucky where Irwin Broadus died from his wounds. The Ohio Anti-Slavery Bugle said Broadus had been “Freed at last.”

    File:The Hunted Slaves by Richard Ansdell 1861.jpg
    “And before I’d be a slave. I’ll be buried in my grave. And go home to my Lord and be free.”

    Meanwhile, Connelly fled to New York, where federal marshals arrested him and took him back to Cincinnati. As the U. S. Attorney, Matthews prosecuted Connelly for sheltering the Broaduses from those who wanted to enslave them. Matthews conducted the prosecution  “despite his anti-slavery convictions” (as a law professor later put it).

    File:Slavery in Brazil, by Jean-Baptiste Debret (1768-1848).jpg
    “I’m personally opposed to slavery, OK? Give me a break, I’m just doing my job.”

    Thanks to Matthews, Connelly was convicted, but the judge only gave Connelly a 20-day jail sentence and a $10 fine. While Connelly served his sentence, abolitionist women in Cincinnati sent him pastries and other good food. On the day of his release, the jailer was persuaded to keep Connelly locked up for a few extra hours so that a group of supporters would have time to arrive and give Connelly a celebratory parade.

    When the Civil War started, Matthews went into the Union Army along with his old college roommate and friend, Rutherford B. Hayes. Matthews had an undistinguished military career, and was not popular with his men. Matthews returned to Tennessee – as part of the occupying army. Due to an injury, he missed out on the important battle of Stones River where many of his men were killed. Soon after that, in early 1863, he quit the Army and became a judge in Cincinnati. He wanted to restore the Union “just as it was” – that is, with slavery still intact; an unrealistic goal as the war progressed. At the same time, Matthews rejected Ohio’s Democratic peaceniks, led by his former co-counsel Clement Vallandigham – these “Copperheads” wanted a truce followed by peace negotiations. Because he rejected any truce, and believed in fighting the war through to victory, Matthews and other “War Democrats” fused with Republicans into the Union Party.

    Matthews had joined the Old School Presbyterian Church, the country’s largest Presbyterian denomination, in 1859 – the deaths of several of his children had turned his thoughts in a spiritual direction.

    File:Presbyterian Family Connections.jpg
    The Old School Presbyterians are not to be confused with other Presbyterian denominations – this simple diagram should clarify things.

    The Old School Presbyterians soft-pedaled the slavery issue before the war, to placate Southern members, but after Southern Presbyterians seceded from the church during the war, the now Northern-dominated Old Schoolers took a prowar position. Matthews was a ruling elder of the Cincinnati Presbytery (a subdivision of the church), and as a prominent Presbyterian leader he drew up a report on slavery in 1864 which the General Assembly (governing body of the Old Schoolers) largely adopted during its meeting in Newark, New Jersey. Matthews and his fellow-Old Schoolers had finally accepted that the war was destroying the Peculiar Institution, and Matthews’ report thanked God for “work[ing] out the deliverance of our country from the evil and guilt of slavery.”

    Matthews joined the Republican Party and renewed his acquaintance with Samuel Chase, now Chief Justice. Now Matthews was for a reconstruction policy which let the former slaves vote. Supporters of such a policy were then known as Radical Republicans.

    Matthews left the Cincinnati judiciary and went back to private practice after the war. In 1869, the Cincinnati School board hired him as lead counsel to defend its new policy banning Bible readings in public schools. There had been hints that the Catholic Church in Cincinnati might want to merge its massive parochial system with the local public schools. The school board realized that the public schools’ practice of classroom readings from the Protestant King James Bible  might be a stumbling block to Catholics. So the Board put an end to these and any other Bible readings. Even after the Catholics backed out of the merger talks, the school board continued with its ban.

    "Thou shalt not deliver unto his master the servant which is escaped from his master unto thee: He shall dwell with thee, even among you, in that place which he shall choose in one of thy gates, where it liketh him best;: thou shalt not oppress him."
    “I need someone to find me a loophole in Deuteronomy 23:15-16.”

    Matthews felt obliged to resign as a Presbyterian elder, due to the opposition his anti-Bible-reading stance provoked. He warned the court against “Protestant supremacy” – because if the public schools set religious exercises the Protestant majority would decide what those exercises would be. The Ohio Supreme Court ultimately sided with Matthews and the school board. (For more about the “Cincinnati Bible Wars,” click here).

    Matthews at first joined the Liberal Republican movement against President Grant in 1872, deploring administration corruption and calling for more conciliatory treatment of the white South. Then Matthews backtracked and endorsed Grant. When he mentioned corruption, said Matthews, he wasn’t talking specifically about the Grant administration, just about, you know, corruption in society and stuff.

    Representing powerful railroad interests, Matthews was able to “swell my income”  – as Matthews put it to Hayes. He went back into politics when his old friend Hayes was nominated for President in 1876 – Matthews himself ran for U. S. House. Matthews lost his race, but as part of Hayes’ legal team he fought to have Hayes recognized as the victor in the disputed Presidential election. The famous Wormley House Conference was held in Matthews’ room at the Wormley House hotel in Washington – at this conference Hayes’ representatives (including Matthews) agreed to abandon the “carpetbag” Republican governments in the South and the Southern Democrats agreed to recognize Hayes as President and respect black rights.

    File:SlaveChildrenUnknown.jpg
    “Well, that last part is a relief. For a moment there we were worried we were getting double-crossed.”

    Serving a two-year term as U. S. Senator from Ohio, Matthews spoke up for an old client of his, railway magnate Jay Gould. He also spoke up for Chinese immigrants and against the gold standard and the New York customs boss, Chester Arthur. Then he stepped aside to let James Garfield take his Senate seat – a seat Garfield had wanted two years earlier.

    Garfield was elevated from the Senate to the Presidency in the 1880 election, but before Garfield was inaugurated, the lame-duck Hayes nominated Matthews to the U. S. Supreme Court. Matthews’ Senatorial opponents bottled up the nomination in committee until Garfield took office. Garfield renominated Matthews. The scandals of Matthews’ past life came back to haunt him. Problems included Matthews’ support for railroad interests (his support of Chinese immigration was put down to this), the enmity of New York Senator Roscoe Conkling (Chester Arthur’s sponsor), and Matthews’ enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Act. The New York Times called Matthews a “Northern slave-hound and dough-face.”

    "Hey, youse guys, play some Skynyrd!"
    A dough-face is a Northern man with Southern principles

    The Senate Judiciary Committee recommended against Matthews’ nomination. There was a dissenting vote in Matthews’ favor, but that vote came from Senator Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar, Democrat of Mississippi. Not exactly a resounding refutation of the “doughface” charge.

    The Senate confirmed Matthews by a 24-23 vote. Here is a Thomas Nast cartoon on the subject.

    So, back to the Hurtado case – Matthews’ opinion said that “due process” did not require grand juries, even for the most serious crimes. Giving such an interpretation of due process

    would be to deny every quality of the law but its age, and to render it incapable of progress or improvement. It would be to stamp upon our jurisprudence the unchangeableness attributed to the laws of the Medes and Persians….The Constitution of the United States…was made for an undefined and expanding future, and for a people gathered and to be gathered from many nations and of may tongues….as it was the characteristic principle of the common law to draw its inspiration from every fountain of justice, we are not to assume that the sources of its supply have been exhausted. On the contrary, we should expect that the new and various experiences of our own situation and system will mould and shape it into new and not less useful forms….Restraints that could be fastened upon executive authority with precision and detail might prove obstructive and injurious when imposed on the just and necessary discretion of legislative power…

    Facing off against Justice Matthews was the author of the dissent in the Hurtado case,

     

     

    Justice John Marshall Harlan

    File:John-Marshall-Harlan.jpg
    John Marshall Harlan

    Harlan, an Old School Presbyterian like Matthews, had been a Kentucky politician before the war – first a Whig, then a Know-Nothing, then a member of the “Opposition party” (anti-Democrat). He run for Congress in 1858, accusing his Democratic opponent of not being proslavery enough.  Harlan in turn had to fight off slanderous reports that he had given legal representation to a slave who had sued for freedom. Harlan lost the race by 67 votes. He suspected the Democrats had committed fraud.

    File:Shocked Face.jpg
    Let me get my shocked face

    During the Civil War, Harlan became a colonel in the Union army, where he fought against the Confederate cavalry raider John Hunt Morgan.

    The horse was trans - does it bother you that the Confederates were so tolerant?
    Part of a John Hunt Morgan statue in Lexington, KY. This is a close-up of the testicles of Morgan’s mare, Black Bess

    Laying aside his prewar Know-Nothing affiliation, Harlan praised the courage of the Catholic soldiers under his command.

    Unlike Matthews, Harlan was admired and respected by his men. Like Matthews, Harlan resigned from the Army in 1863 – in Harlan’s case because his father’s death required him to provide for his family.

    Harlan was elected Kentucky attorney general on the Union Party ticket. He wanted to beat the Confederacy, but he opposed the efforts of Lincoln and other Republicans to free the slaves.  Campaigning against Lincoln’s re-election in 1864, Harlan said Lincoln was “warring chiefly for the freedom of the African race,” when he should have simply been fighting to restore the Union. In another  campaign speech, Harlan used a joke to illustrate his argument that Republicans had too much concern about “ze little black nigger.” Harlan tried to prosecute the federal commander in Kentucky for freeing slaves.

    "A few more days for to tote the weary load, / No matter, 'twill never be light; / A few more days till we totter on the road, / Then my old Kentucky home, goodnight." - Stephen Foster
    Old Kentucky slave pen

    Harlan opposed the Thirteenth Amendment, and opposed civil rights for black people after the war.

    Then in 1868, Harlan saw the light and the scales fell from his eyes.

    File:Convertion de Paul par Boullogne 03276.jpg
    Or at least he realized that he had a better future in the Republican Party

    …and he switched to supporting the Republicans and the Republican-sponsored Reconstruction Amendments, including the 14th.

    “Let it be said that I am right rather than consistent,” Harlan told the public.

    Harlan worked with other Republicans, including the black entrepreneur and politician Robert Harlan who was probably John’s half-brother.

    "Just between us, John, Dad was kind of a racist horndog, wasn't he?"

    A more influential connection was Benjamin Bristow, who was John Harlan’s law partner and later acquired fame as an honest member of President Ulysses Grant’s Cabinet. Unfortunately for his reputation among libertarians, Bristow was Secretary of the Treasury and zealously enforced the federal whiskey tax.

    File:Dukes-of-hazzard-sheriff-car.jpg
    “I’m a get those Duke boys.”

    Like Matthews, Harlan loyally supported the Old School Presbyterian Church – fighting in the Supreme Court, and winning, in order to keep some church property out of the hands of pro-Confederate Presbyterians. This was an important precedent by which the secular courts deferred to rulings by church bodies.

    When Rutherford B. Hayes obtained the Presidency in 1877, he put Harlan on a commission to investigate the turbulent political situation in Louisiana. Harlan and the other commissioners gave Hayes cover for getting federal troops out of the state and letting the Democrats take over. Harlan thought the Democrats had become more enlightened on racial matters – though by the time of the Plessy decision Harlan would have changed his mind.

    Later in 1877, Hayes nominated Harlan for the U. S. Supreme Court. Like Matthews, Harlan faced difficulty getting confirmed to the Supreme Court by the Senate on account of his political past. Former Attorney General James Speed reassured hesitant Senators that Harlan “never was a Democrat” and that he had “sloughed his old pro-slavery skin.” Harlan was duly confirmed.

    Harlan’s dissent in the Hurtado case said:

    Those who had been driven from the mother country by oppression and persecution brought with them, as their inheritance, which no government could rightfully impair or destroy, certain guaranties of the rights of life and liberty, and property which had long been deemed fundamental in Anglo-Saxon institutions….It is difficult…to perceive anything in the system of prosecuting human beings for their lives by information which suggests that the State which adopts it has entered upon an era of progress and improvement in the law of criminal procedure….Does not the fact that the people of the original States required an amendment of the national Constitution, securing exemption from prosecution, for a capital [or “infamous”] offence, except upon the indictment or presentment of a grand jury, prove that, in their judgment, such an exemption was essential to protection against accusation and unfounded prosecution, and, therefore, was a fundamental principle in liberty and justice?

    Before leaving Justice Harlan, I should note that he famously voiced a lone dissent against Jim Crow segregation laws, unsuccessfully tried to apply the entire Bill of Rights to the states, and although he didn’t believe businesses had the right to select their own customers, he at least believed employers could choose their own employees.

     

    Epilogue

    The Supremes gave their decision against Joseph Hurtado on March 3, 1884. Exactly a month later, on April 3, Hurtado died of “consumption” (probably tuberculosis) in prison. There hadn’t even been time to set a new execution date. The Sacramento Daily Record-Union published a sympathetic death notice, saying that Hurtado “spent the greater proportion of his life in this city, where he had many warm friends.” He had “experienced religion,” and his final moments were spent in the company of his family (including his wife), and of priests and nuns.

    Hurtado’s body ended up in the same Catholic cemetery as Joe DiMaggio, in Colma, San Mateo County, California. As Wikipedia explains: “With most of Colma’s land dedicated to cemeteries, the population of the dead outnumbers the living by over a thousand to one. This has led to Colma’s being called ‘the City of the Silent’ and has given rise to a humorous motto, now recorded on the city’s website: ‘It’s great to be alive in Colma.’” More about Colma here – more about Holy Cross Catholic Cemetery here – consider taking one of the cemetery’s walking tours, but if I had to guess I’d imagine that you’re more likely to be shown the grave of Joseph DiMaggio than that of Joseph Hurtado.

    File:Hcc-colma-dimaggio1.jpg
    “The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, / And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave, / Awaits alike the inevitable hour. / The paths of glory lead but to the grave.” – Thomas Gray, “Elegy written in a country churchyard.”

     

    Works Consulted

    Eric Foner, Reconstruction: America’s Unfinished Revolution 1863-1877. New York: Harper and Row, 1989.

    The Fugitive Slave Law and its Victims. New York: American Anti-Slavery Society, 1861.

    Larry Gara, The Liberty Line: The Legend of the Underground Railroad. Lexington, KY: University of Kentucky Press, 1996.

    “Local Intelligence,” Sacramento Daily Record-Union, April 4, 1884, p. 3, column 1. Available online at http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn82014381/1884-04-04/ed-1/seq-3/

    Clare V. McKanna, Jr., Race and Homicide in Nineteenth Century California. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2002.

    J. Michael Martinez, “Hurtado v. California (1884) and 19th-century criminal procedure,” in The Greatest Criminal Cases: Changing the Course of American Law. Santa Barbara: Praeger, 2014, pp. 1-12.

    Stephen Middleton, The Black Laws: Race and the Legal Process in Early Ohio. Athens: Ohio University Press, 2005.

    The Record of Hon. C. L. Vallandigham on Abolition, the Union and the Civil War. Columbus, Ohio: J. Walter & Co., 1863.

    “Stanley Matthews,” The Sun (New York, NY), May 13, 1881, p. 2, column 6.

    Mark Wahlgren Summers, The Ordeal of the Reunion: A New History of Reconstruction. Chapel Hill: UNC Press, 2014.

    Suja A. Thomas, The Missing American Jury: Restoring the Fundamental Constitutional Role of the Criminal, Civil, and Grand Juries. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016.

    ___________, Nonincorporation: The Bill of Rights after McDonald v. Chicago, Notre Dame Law Review, Vol. 88, 2012.

    Lewis G. Vander Velde, The Presbyterian Churches and the Federal Union 1861-1869. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1932.

    William Robert Wantland, Jurist and Advocate: The Political Career of Stanley Matthews, 1840-1889. Ph.D. Dissertation, Miami University, Ohio, 1994.

    Jennifer L. Weber, Copperheads: The Rise and Fall of Lincoln’s Opponents in the North. New York: Oxford University Press, 2006.

    Tinsley E. Yarbrough, Judicial Enigma: The First Justice Harlan. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995.

    Richard D. Younger, The people’s panel: the Grand Jury in the United States, 1634-1941. Providence, RI: American History Research Center, Brown University Press, 1963.

  • The man who fought a blacklist and killed the First Amendment (it got better)

    Things were different in many ways a century ago, but in one respect it was like all places at all times: there were insurance agents.

     

    Monument to the insurance agent 009.jpg
    Monument to insurance agent, Donetsk, Ukraine

    Robert T. Cheek of St. Louis, Missouri, was one of those insurance agents, selling policies in his hometown for the Prudential Insurance Company. In the 1910s, after many years of what he obviously considered faithful service, he left his job and began looking for work with another insurer. He asked his former employer, Prudential, for a letter describing his work and the reasons he left.

    Prudential refused to provide such a letter. Without such a “service letter” from his prior employer, Cheek had trouble getting another job in the insurance field. Insurance, as he claimed, was pretty much what Cheek knew, and he didn’t want to go into another line of work where he didn’t have so much experience. He thought he was being blacklisted.

    So he sued Prudential in a state court in St. Louis. In that part of the case which is relevant for our purposes, Cheek said that Prudential had violated Missouri’s “service letter” statute. Missouri law required that an employee who had worked 90 days or longer for an employer could demand that his ex-boss provide a letter saying that he used to work for that boss, and explaining why he doesn’t work for that boss any longer.

    States like Missouri which passed these “service letter” laws were concerned about employer blacklists. If an employee had crossed his ex-boss, the boss might just decide not to help that employee get new work. But if the boss was forced to give a service letter, the employee could obtain information about his work history, without which new employers might not want to take a chance on him. And if the ex-boss gave the former employer a bad reference, the employee could sue for defamation.

    The trial court in Missouri threw out Cheek’s suit. Sure, Prudential hadn’t given Cheek a “service letter,” but it didn’t have to do so. Anyone, even an insurance company, has the right to free speech, which includes the “right of silence” – that is, the right not to talk.

    I tried to find a SFW image of someone with a gag in their mouth, but no such luck

    Precedents from other states, like Georgia, indicated that service-letter statues violated the freedom not to speak, and therefore violated the freedom of speech as constitutionally guaranteed by state constitutions. Of course, a company didn’t have the right to lie about former employees – that would be defamation. But if an employer didn’t want to talk about an ex-employee, it shouldn’t be forced to talk.

    Cheek took the case to the Supreme Court of Missouri, which in 1916 gave Cheek a victory and upheld the “service letter” law. Those other courts which had talked about a constitutional right to silence were simply out of harmony with the up-to-date enlightened principles of 1916. After all, all that the service letter law demanded was that a company give truthful information about former employees who had worked for them for three months or more. Disclosing accurate information – how could mandating that violate any company’s rights? The court spoke of the legislative struggle against blacklisting, and how the service letter law was a modest tool to help victims of that iniquitous practice.

    Now it was Prudential’s turn to appeal, all the way to the United States Supreme Court. To defend his position, and the Missouri service letter law, Cheek had Frederick H. Bacon as his attorney.

    In U. S. Supreme Court, Bacon saves you!
    At some point, I’m bound to get tired of telling food puns, right? Right?

    Bacon, a Michigan native who practiced law in Missouri, had written a textbook on insurance law. Perhaps Cheek hired Bacon because of the attorney’s knowledge of the insurance industry, although this was not a specifically insurance-oriented case, but a broader labor-law case. And, as it turned out, a First Amendment case.

    In those days, pretty much anyone with enough money could take their case to the United States Supreme Court. So many people exercised this right that there was a bit of a backlog, which may be why it took until 1922 for the U. S. Supremes to give their opinion in Prudential Insurance Company v. Cheek.

    Most of the opinion dealt with the issue of economic freedom – in those days the Supremes still recognized the right of businesses to operate free from arbitrary government restrictions. But Missouri’s service-letter law was not arbitrary, said the majority opinion. Companies just had to provide accurate information about former employees. It wasn’t like Missouri was trying to cartelize the ice business or anything oppressive like that.

    But the Supremes still had to deal with Prudential’s argument based on free speech, and the corollary right not to speak. Remarkably, the Supremes had not yet decided, one way or another, whether the First Amendment’s rights of free expression even applied to the states.

    In 1907, the Supreme Court assumed, for the purpose of argument, that the 14th Amendment required the states to respect freedom of the press. But Thomas Patterson, said the Court, had abused his freedom of the press by criticizing the decisions of the Colorado Supreme Court in his newspaper, for which the state supreme court could legitimately convict him of contempt. Patterson, owner of the Rocky Mountain News and an influential Democrat, had run editorials and cartoons accusing the Colorado Supremes of acting in subservience to corporate interests when it awarded elections to Republicans and abolished home rule for the state’s cities.

    Nowadays, people in Colorado are much more mellow

    In a case arising out of the First World War, the Supreme Court assumed, for the purpose of argument, that the 14th Amendment required the states to respect freedom of speech. But Joseph Gilbert, said the court, had abused his freedom of speech, and could legitimately be punished by the state of Minnesota for making the following wartime remarks:

    We are going over to Europe to make the world safe for democracy, but I tell you we had better make America safe for democracy first. You say, what is the matter with our democracy? I tell you what is the matter with it: Have you had anything to say as to who should be President? Have you had anything to say as to who should be Governor of this state? Have you had anything to say as to whether we would go into this war? You know you have not. If this is such a good democracy, for Heaven’s sake why should we not vote on conscription of men? We were stampeded into this war by newspaper rot to pull England’s chestnuts out of the fire for her. I tell you if they conscripted wealth like they have conscripted men, this war would not last over forty‑eight hours…

    Minnesota don’t want none of your free speech unless you bash Huns, hon

    (If you’re interested, here is a highly sympathetic biography of Mr. Gilbert.)

    In both of those cases the Court had assumed, without deciding, that the states had to respect freedom of expression. The issue hadn’t affected the outcomes of those cases because the Justices didn’t think freedom of expression applied to the insidious activities of Patterson and Gilbert.

    Now, suddenly, the Justices decided it was time to make an official ruling: Do the states have to obey the First Amendment? In other words, do the basic rights protected by the Fourteenth Amendment against the states include free expression (subject to common-sense regulations such as suppression of wartime dissent)?

    Here’s how the Supremes answered that question in Cheek’s case:

    the Constitution of the United States imposes upon the states no obligation to confer upon those within their jurisdiction either the right of free speech or the right of silence….

    Cheek won, and Prudential and the First Amendment lost.

    Apparently, Cheek was able to get back into the insurance business. When he died in 1926, his death certificate said that at the time of his decease he had been an insurance agent for the “Missouri State Life Co.”

    The year before Cheek’s death, the Supremes were back to their old tricks, refusing to say whether states have to respect the First Amendment’s rights of free expression. This was  in a case involving a Communist firebrand, Benjamin Gitlow, who had written a manifesto advocating revolution. In a key paragraph, the Court said:

    For present purposes we may and do assume that freedom of speech and of the press-which are protected by the First Amendment from abridgment by Congress-are among the fundamental personal rights and ‘liberties’ protected by the due process clause of the Fourteenth Amendment from impairment by the States. We do not regard the incidental statement in Prudential Ins. Co. v. Cheek…that the Fourteenth Amendment imposes no restrictions on the States concerning freedom of speech, as determinative of this question.

    Then the Supremes went on to do what they had done in the cases of Patterson and Gilbert – they declared that Gitlow had abused his First Amendment freedoms and could rightly be punished for it, even if the First Amendment applied to the states.

    File:Gitlow-benjamin-1928.jpg
    Benjamin Gitlow running for Vice President as a Communist in 1928

    (Gitlow later left the Communist Party and published a memoir entitled I Confess: The Truth About American Communism.)

    So it was back to the old drawing board – the applicability of the First Amendment to the states was still officially unresolved.

    In two key cases in 1931 (here and here), the Supremes finally decided that the states did have to obey the free-expression guarantees of the First Amendment.

    The first of these decisions said that both the federal and state governments have to respect your right to wave a communist flag. The second decision said that the government (whether state or federal) can’t shut down a newspaper as a “public nuisance.”

    (Here is a book about the freedom-of-the-press case, Near v. Minnesota).

    Neither in their published opinions nor in their private papers through 1931 did the Justices engage in any detailed examination of the question of “incorporation” – whether the states had to obey the First Amendment and if so, why. The Supremes just veered from one side to another, almost as if they were flying by the seat of their pants and not acting on any coherent principle. It was only later, in subsequent cases, that the Justices began working out various rationales for applying the First Amendment to the states (TL;DR version – because free expression is a Good Thing and is Good for Democracy).

    A good guess would be that, when the Supremes were unenthusiastic about free expression, they weren’t that interested in imposing it on the states, but when (as in the 1931 cases) they got interested in free expression, they decided it was time to make the states as well as the feds respect that right.

    Many states still have service-letter laws to this day. Check your local listings.

     

    Works Consulted

    Floyd Abrams, The Soul of the First Amendment. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2017, pp. 60-62.

    “Anti-Blacklist Law Upheld,” Iron County Register (Ironton, Missouri), December 7, 1916, http://bit.ly/2rjmnTh

    Ruth A. Binger and Tracy R. Ring, “BEWARE – PROCEED CAUTIOUSLY – WHAT THE MISSOURI EMPLOYER SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THE SERVICE LETTER STATUTE AND DEFAMATION.” St. Louis: Danna McKitrick, P.C., Attorneys at Law, WWW.DANNAMCKITRICK.COM, 2003.

    Vickie Caison, “Bacon, Frederick H.” Friends of Silverbrook Cemetery, last updated November 22, 2010, http://www.friendsofsilverbrook.org/site4/obituaries/95-bacon-frederick-h

    Russell Cawyer, “Texas Has No Enforceable Service Letter Statute,” Texas Employment Law Update, December 2, 2011, http://www.texasemploymentlawupdate.com/2011/12/articles/human-resources/texas-has-no-enforceable-service-letter-statute/

    “Robert T. Cheek,” St. Louis, Missouri City Directories for 1910, 1913 and 1916, Ancestry.com. U.S. City Directories, 1822-1995 [database on-line]. Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2011.

    Richard C. Cortner, The Supreme Court and the Second Bill of Rights: The Fourteenth Amendment and the Nationalization of Civil Liberties. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 1981.

    “Frederick H. Bacon,” Find a Grave, https://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GSln=bacon&GSfn=frederick&GSmn=h&GSbyrel=all&GSdyrel=all&GSob=n&GRid=60501380&df=all&

    Klaus H. Heberle, “From Gitlow to Near: Judicial ‘Amendment’ by Absent-Minded Incrementalism,” The Journal of Politics, Vol. 34, No. 2 (May, 1972), pp. 458-483

    “Labor and Employment Laws in the State of Missouri,” Fisher and Phillips LLP, Attorneys at Law, www.laborlawyers.com.

    “Master and Servant: Blacklisting Statute: Failure to Give Service Letter,” Michigan Law Review, Vol. 8, No. 8 (Jun., 1910), pp. 684-685

    Ruth Mayhew, “States that Require an Employment Termination Letter,” http://work.chron.com/states-require-employment-termination-letter-24010.html

    Missouri State Board of Health, Bureau of Vital Statistics, Death Certificate for Robert T. Cheek, St. Louis, Missouri, c. March 1926 [courtesy of Ancestry.com]

    “Online Books by Frederick H. Bacon,” Online Books Page, University of Pennsylvania, http://bit.ly/2r9YTDm

    Robert Gildersleeve Patterson, Wage-Payment Legislation in the United States. Washington: Government Printing Office, 1918, p. 75

    James Z. Schwartz, “Thomas M. Patterson: Criticism of the Courts,” in Melvin I. Urofsky (ed.), 100 Americans Making Constitutional History: A Biographical History. Washington, DC: CQ Press, 2004, pp. 154-56.

    Ralph K. Soebbing,”The Missouri Service Letter Statute,” Missouri Law Review, Volume 31, Issue 4 Fall 1966 Article 2 Fall 1966, pp. 505-515.

  • Mormons and the Bill of Rights, Part Three, Shoot-em-up edition

    (Check out Part One and Part Two)

    SCENE:

    The West. Two cowboys, Bart and Biff, are sitting around a campfire…

    BIFF: Well, we’ve amused ourselves quite a bit lighting our own farts, now let’s find some other way to entertain ourselves.

    BART: Let’s tell the story of “Gunplay” Maxwell.

    BIFF: OK, let’s see…”Gunplay” Maxwell is known as a Western outlaw, but he was actually born James Otis Bliss, the son of a respectable businessman in Massachusetts. I heard tell that when things got too hot for him in the West, Maxwell/Bliss would send his wife and daughter to live with his Bliss relatives in Massachusetts until things cooled down.

    BART: But when she wasn’t in Massachusetts, his wife would be with him to help him out in his criminal pursuits.

    BIFF: Now, some say that Maxwell was turned down for membership in Butch Cassidy’s gang…

     

    "I mean, even we have standards"
    “We have considered your application, Mr. Maxwell, and we’re sorry to say we have no positions available at present. We’ll keep your resume on file.”

    BART: That ain’t the way I heard it. Way I heard it, Maxwell was in on some of Butch Cassidy’s gang’s jobs.

    BIFF: When we’re looking at the career of “Gunplay” Maxwell, it looks a lot like that Japanese movie Rashomon.

    BART: Never seen it.

    BIFF: ‘Course you never seen it, it ain’t been made yet, but you’re supposed to pretend you’ve seen it, so you can look sophisticated.

    BART: …says Mr. “Look at me lighting my own farts.”

    BIFF: Anyways, the historiographical conflicts have yet to be resolved, but Maxwell was either an outlaw with Cassidy’s gang, or else he was acting just with his own gang, rustling cattle and stuff like that.

    BART: And supposedly, one time the cops were out to arrest him, and he was going to turn himself in, but his wife said he was being a wimp so he got away and stayed on the run.

    BIFF: And a lot of his jobs were supposedly planned with the help of a local postmaster.

    BART: Ha ha, going postal.

    BIFF: But the important part of the story takes place in Springville, Utah on May 28, 1898, when an alarm from the bank was linked to a store across the street. Now, the storekeeper hear the alarm go off, but at first he didn’t think anything of it, because there had been a lot of false alarms lately…

    File:StudioFlat-Alarm.JPG

    BART: But the fact that we’re sitting here talking about it now is kind of a tip-off that it wasn’t no false alarm this time…

    BIFF: Yeah, it was the Maxwell gang trying to rob the bank, but the teller had the presence of mind to trigger the alarm.

    BART: Yeah, so the townspeople formed a posse.

    BIFF: And they killed Maxwell’s companion, but they took Maxwell alive, and he was convicted.

    BART: So Maxwell got himself a lawyer and took his case to the highest court in the land.

    BIFF: Judge Judy?

    BART: No, dummy, the U. S. Supreme Court. Now, the Supremes had previously given a decision that said a trial by jury meant a trial by exactly 12 jurors. Yet Maxwell’s jury, in accordance with the Utah Constitution, had only eight members.

    Close enough for government work
    Eight is enough?

    BIFF: Those Mormons, amirite?

    BART: Sure, the Mormons agreed to put this idea of 8-person juries (with certain exceptions) in the Utah constitution, but it wasn’t strictly the Mormons’ idea. It was the idea of some non-Mormon lawyers who were members of the state constitutional convention, like C. C. Goodwin. In fact, Goodwin was very disparaging of the idea of trial by jury and openly fantasized about abolishing juries altogether.

    BIFF: Is that the same C. C. Goodwin who ran the anti-Mormon Salt Lake Tribune? The guy who supported the federal prosecution of Mormon polygamists? Why would the delegates care about what he said? Wouldn’t they do the opposite of what Goodwin wanted?

    BART: Danged if I know. When the state constitution was being written in 1895 there seems to have been kind of a truce between the Mormons and their erstwhile oppressors, and this Goodwin fella used to be a judge, so I guess they were willing to listen to his legal expertise…

    BIFF: Earth to Mormons: Don’t take advice from your sworn enemies about whether to dilute your constitutional rights! But the U. S. Supremes said that a jury means 12 people, so I guess Maxwell won his case?

    BART: No, actually, because even though the Supreme Court said a jury means 12 people, in Maxwell’s case the Supreme Court also said that the states don’t have to have trial by jury. So since Maxwell didn’t have the right to a trial by jury, it didn’t matter how many jurors he had, or even if he had any jurors at all.

    BIFF: Well if that don’t beat all! So what did happen to Maxwell?

    BART: He got together a bunch of local citizens, including the judge at his trial, who persuaded the parole board to release him. It helped that Maxwell assisted in stopping a jailbreak by other inmates.

    BIFF: Do you have a link?

    BART: Here.

    BIFF: So, was Maxwell rehabilitated?

    BART: I dunno, maybe you could say he was rehabilitated…right up until he picked a fight and got fatally shot. Some say he was planning another job at the time.

    BIFF: That Rashomon thing again.

    BART: But in the 1960s, the Supreme Court admitted that states have to provide jury trials, at least to those accused of serious crimes.

    BIFF: So now we all have a right to a 12-person jury?

    BART: No, because the Supremes also said around that time that a jury doesn’t need twelve people anymore. Maybe it can be as few as six.

    BIFF: So they changed their mind about that, too? But the fewer jurors you have, the less of a cross-section of the community you’ve got.

    BART: I think that’s the point.

     

    Book Learnin’ that I Consulted

    Erma Armstrong, “Aunt Ada & the Outlaws: The Story of C. L. Maxwell.” The Outlaw Trail Journal, Winter 1997.

    Raoul Berger, “Trial by Jury:” Six or Twelve Jurors,” in Government by Judiciary: The Transformation of the Fourteenth Amendment. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1977, pp. 397-406.

    “C.L. aka John Carter “Gunplay” Maxwell,” https://www.findagrave.com/cgi-bin/fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=5459997.

    Richard C. Courtner, The Supreme Court and the Second Bill of Rights: The Fourteenth Amendment and the Nationalization of Civil Liberties. Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1981.

    “Gunplay Maxwell – Utah Gunfighter and Outlaw.” http://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-gunplaymaxwell.html

    Official Report of the Proceedings and Debates of the Convention Assembled at Salt Lake City on the Fourth Day of March, 1895, to Adopt a Constitution for the State of Utah, Volume 1. Salt Lake City: Star Printing Company, 1898.

    Charles S. Peterson and Brian Q. Cannon, The Awkward State of Utah: Coming of Age in the Nation, 1896-1945. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2015.

    Michael Rutter, “Gunplay Maxwell, the Wannabe Gunman,” in Outlaw Tales of Utah: True Stories of the Beehive State’s Most Infamous Crooks, Culprits and Cutthtroats. Guilford, Conn: Twodot Press, 2011, pp. 156-165.

    Jean Bickmore White, Charter for Statehood: The Story of Utah’s State Constitution. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1996.

     

  • Mormons and the Bill of Rights, Part One – Too Many Wives

    After the newly-founded religion of the Latter Day Saints, under the leadership of Brigham Young (successor to the martyred Joseph Smith), moved to Utah, it presented the federal government with some problems, as soon as the United States had acquired the area from Mexico. Young and other Mormon leaders announced a revelation from God – Mormon men were strongly encouraged (to put it mildly) to marry multiple wives. Joseph Smith had been doing this in private but starting around 1852 the revelation was out in the open.

    Mormon theologians and polemicists made clear that their “principle” – polygamy – was far superior to monogamy. The great patriarchs in the Old Testament had done it with God’s approval. Polygamous unions supposedly produced healthy children. Men with many wives were not tempted, like monogamists, to frequent prostitutes or engage in fornication or adultery, thus polygamy was an answer to these social ills.

    Opponents of Mormon polygamy – whom historian Stephen Prothero calls “conservatives” although the critics included prominent feminists – denounced polygamy as barbarous, oppressive to women, and a practice which had harmed civilization in other continents.

    At first the federal government’s solution to the Mormon question was to make Brigham Young the governor of Utah. After all, Utah was a federal territory, most of its settlers were Mormons, and they’d obey Young.

    There was another consideration. To be sure, polygamy was problematic, but should Congress be telling the people of the territories what domestic institutions they should have? Southerners and their Northern Democratic allies said no – thinking of course of slavery. But polygamy was a domestic institution, too, so if Congress started banning it, people might get ideas about banning territorial slavery, also.

    Indeed, the Republican platform in 1856 said Congress should ban polygamy and slavery in the territories, calling the two institutions “twin relics of barbarism.”

    Budweiser, Beck’s 2012.jpg
    Twin relics of barbarism

    Democrat James Buchanan defeated the Republican candidate, on a platform of keeping Congress from meddling in the question of territorial slavery. Buchanan did meddle with the Mormons just a little bit in Utah, to the extent of deciding that Utah wasn’t the Papal States, and the religious leader shouldn’t double as the head of the civil government. So Buchanan fired Young as civil governor and replaced him with a non-Mormon.

    Mormons referred to non-Mormons as “Gentiles,” and it wasn’t meant as a compliment. Rather than submit to the Gentile governor, the Mormons launched a guerrilla war, but the rebellion was put down with the help of U. S. general Albert Sydney Johnston.

    I looked up the proper spelling of his name at Find A Grave
    Monument to Albert Sydney Johnston in his U. S. Army uniform, sternly determined to crush all rebels against the United States…hey, wait a minute, that’s not a U. S. Army uniform!

    OK, so General Johnston and a bunch of other people waged a Civil War, and for our purposes the result was that most of the Southerners left Congress, leaving a Republican majority which passed laws against both slavery and polygamy, the twin relics, in the federal territories. The Morrill Act of 1862 prescribed punishments for polygamists, but was rarely enforced. President Lincoln, though he signed the law, suggested leaving the polygamists alone, telling a folksy tale about a farmer plowing around a stump which was too big for him to remove. Or maybe Lincoln told the story about the salesman and the farmers’ three daughters – who cares what joke he told, Mormon-majority juries didn’t convict people under the law even if the local officials cared enough to prosecute.

    Still, the Mormon leadership wanted a test case to show the polygamy was part of their religious freedom, protected by the First Amendment’s guarantee of the free exercise of religion. So they got a guy named Reynolds to get prosecuted and to appeal his conviction to the U. S. Supreme Court.

    The Supreme Court, in Reynolds’ case, decided that Congress could ban polygamy in federal territories. There was no First Amendment right to engage in such a practice – polygamy was a blot on civilization. The true meaning of the First Amendment was spelled out in President Thomas’ Jefferson’s 1802 letter to the Danbury Baptists – the First Amendment erected “a wall of separation between Church & State.” The phrase (which isn’t in the Constitution) is fairly controversial, but for the Mormons the bottom line was that polygamy was on the state’s side of the wall, not religion’s side.

     

    That was pretty awful, wasn't it?
    My name is Reynolds and here is my rap / They put me in prison but it is all crap / It’s wrong to put me in this dungeon / When it comes to wives I want more than one

    Now it was time to put some teeth in the anti-polygamy laws. It was the 1880s, and Congress wasn’t down with Mormons marrying multiple ladies. So Congress tightened the screws in 1882 and again in 1887. Prosecuting polygamists – both for their multiple marriages and for “unlawfully cohabiting” with their surplus wives – was made easier through keeping polygamists off the juries. Gentile juries began convicting Mormon patriarchs, and the federal pen started looking crowded.

     

    File:Polygamists in prison.jpg
    Polygamist Mormons in the federal penitentiary in Utah

    Plus Congress took the vote away from many polygamists, and seized the property of the Mormon church for its defiance of the polygamy law. Some polygamists went underground, trying to evade detection from the sex police. Others went to the recently-established Mormon colonies in Mexico. While I don’t think Mexican law allowed polygamy, there wasn’t the same level of legal repression as in the United States.

    That joke wasn't offensive, was it?
    Gaskell Romney with his children. Gaskell grew up in a Mormon colony in Mexico, son of a Mormon polygamist refugee from the United States (Miles Park Romney). Fourth from left is Gaskell’s son George. George would move to the United States and have an anchor baby named Mitt.

    The Mormon leaders thought enough was enough. It was time for Utah to be its own state, so that under the Constitution, it would no longer be subject to federal morals laws. The Mormon leadership began a campaign to persuade the public that the whole polygamy thing was exaggerated, and that the Mormons were turning away from the practice. This wasn’t strictly true, but the Mormons had found some new friends, wealthy railway companies and railroad promoters, who were willing to spread the wealth around among newspapers and Congress members to create a favorable climate of opinion for the Mormons. If Utah ended up as a state, these railway interests expected that the government would be dominated by grateful Mormons, happy to pay back their benefactors.

    To help with the public-relations campaign, boss Mormon Wilford Woodruff issued a declaration in 1890 suggesting that he would hereafter urge his flock to adhere to the federal antipolygamy laws and not to contract new polygamous marriages.

    "Hold me, like you did by the lake on Nauvoo"
    Wilford Woodruff’s house from way back when the Mormons were in Nauvoo, Illinois – before they fled to Utah. The house is now a historic site maintained by the Mormons.

    The new declaration basically indicated a new determination to keep the polygamy on the down low. Men who already had multiple wives (married before 1890) would not be hassled by the church for continuing to cohabit. If men wanted extra wives after 1890, they could go to one of the Mexican settlements – there was nothing in United States law against being a polygamist in Mexico (or keeping extra wives there).

    The Mormons and their allies could now claim (with some truthiness) to have gone beyond polygamy. Another step was necessary. Hitherto, the political parties in Utah had been divided between the (Mormon) People’s Party and the (Gentile) Liberal Party. The Mormon leadership decided to make Utah competitive between Democrats and Republicans, dangling before the two major parties the prospect of Senators, Congressmen, and electoral votes. It was a delicate operation, since the traditional Republican support of anti-polygamy laws made Mormons Democratic by inclination – and the leadership wanted a politically-competitive state which neither party could write off or take for granted. So the leaders sent the word out that those of the faithful who hadn’t already become Democrats should become Republicans, thus setting up the needed balance.

    These various underhanded tactics worked – Congress agreed in 1894 that if Utah adopted an anti-polygamy state constitution, it could become a state in 1896. The voters complied, and the state of Utah entered the Union in 1896. Polygamy was a crime on the books, but that was a state law, and the state law wasn’t enforced with the same vigor as the old federal anti-polygamy law had been. The railroad interests were disappointed that they didn’t get the keys to the state treasury – they thought they deserved at least that much at the hands of the new Mormon-dominated government in exchange for advocating statehood. But the deed was done.

    Then something happened to bring the whole polygamy issue back into unwelcome public attention.

    In 1903, the Utah Legislature chose the Republican Reed Smoot for U. S. Senate. Smoot was a successful, hardworking businessman, and a monogamist. He was also one of Mormonism’s 12 Apostles – part of the top leadership of the Mormon Church, and it soon transpired that not all of the church leadership shared Smoot’s personal preference for monogamy.

    The Senate provisionally gave Smoot a seat, then its Committee on Privileges and Elections held hearings on Smoot’s qualifications. The issue at hand was whether the top Mormon leadership, of which Smoot was a member, encouraged polygamy.

     

    Kind of funny

     

    During about three years of hearings, it transpired that the top Mormon leadership was riddled with polygamy. President Joseph F. Smith – the boss Mormon – had several wives. The practice was still widespread.

     

     

    President Smith was grilled by the Senate Committee

    This was a problem because it was the Progressive era, and reforming society was the “in” thing once again. While the progressives were not so deluded and mad with power lust as to think they could simply pass morals legislation to supersede the laws of the states, there were rumblings about an anti-polygamy amendment to the U. S. Constitution. The Mormon leadership decided that it was time for the other shoe to drop. In 1890 they’d put their polygamous practices on the down-low, no longer advertising them. Now in the early 20th century they stopped polygamy for real.

    Fortunately, previous Mormon criticisms of monogamy turned out to be exaggerated. When they became monogamists, Mormon men didn’t rush off en masse to the brothels. To this day, Mormon family life, while subject to imperfections and scandals like anything human, has compared favorably with family life in other communities.

    Congress had banned the immigration of polygamists in 1891. In the Progressive era, they banned the advocates of polygamy from immigrating. This caused diplomatic tension with the Ottoman Empire, which was indignant at the idea that Muslims – even monogamist Muslims – might be kept out of the United States merely for believing that the Muslim faith says about polygamy sometimes being OK. In practice, there was no Muslim ban, and only those who actually called for the introduction of polygamy into the U. S. were hit with the ban. In 1990, Congress decided that advocates of polygamy could immigrate here, just so long as they weren’t polygamists themselves.

    By this time, all of this had grown irrelevant to mainstream Mormonism, though one still hears of the splinter Mormon sects.

    As far as the mainstream Mormons are concerned – that is, most adherents to the religion – a contemporary Mormon apologist summed up polygamy this way: “here are the facts: yes we did and no we don’t.”

    As to Reed Smoot, we will meet him again, but for now let me mention the possibly-true story about Senator Boies Penrose, who allegedly said he preferred a polygamist who didn’t polyg to a monogamist who didn’t monag.

     

    Works Consulted

    Kathleen Flake, The Politics of American Religious Identity: The Seating of Senator Reed Smoot, Mormon Apostle. Chapel Hill, University of North Carolina Press, 2004.

    C. Carmon Hardy, Solemn Covenant: The Mormon Polygamous Passage. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1992.

    Edward Leo Lyman, Political Deliverance: The Mormon Quest for Utah Statehood. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1986.

    Charles S. Peterson and Brian Q. Cannon, The Awkward State of Utah: Coming of Age in the Nation, 1896-1945. Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2015.

    Stephen Prothero, “The Mormon Question,” in Why Liberals Win the Culture Wars (Even When They Lose Elections). New York: HarperOne, 2016, pp. 99-137.

    Thomas Cottam Romney, The Mormon Colonies in Mexico. Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1938.

    Claire A. Smearman, “Second Wives’ Club: Mapping the Impact of Polygamy in U.S. Immigration Law,” Berkeley Journal of International Law
    Volume 27, Issue 2, Article 3 (2009).

  • Looking into their hearts and fighting harder (Fourth and final episode of the Berger trilogy)

    (For prior installments of this “trilogy,” see Part One, Part Two and Part Three)

    On October 7, 1873, the new American ambassador to Japan met emperor Mutsuhito and showed his credentials.

    A high-level Japanese delegation, headed by Iwakura Tomomi, the minister responsible for foreign affairs, had in the previous month returned from a lengthy foreign journey, which had included the United States. The Iwakura Mission had sought to alert the West to Japan’s complaints about the “unequal treaties” forced on the country under the prior Japanese regime, the Shogunate.

    After the United States “opened up” Japan in 1853-54, the U.S. and several European powers had negotiated treaties with the Shogun’s regime. Many Japanese patriots considered the treaties to be unfair and humiliating. In the 1860s, Japan went through a civil war. The victorious faction had overthrown the Shogunate and established the “Meiji Restoration” regime in 1868. The Meiji government, which ruled in the Emperor’s name, believed its predecessor had been too weak in the face of foreign pressure.

    The new American minister plenipotentiary would adopt a conciliatory approach regarding Japan’s grievances.

    John Armor Bingham

    John A. Bingham was a former member of the U.S. House of Representatives, but the local leaders of Bingham’s own Republican party had denied him renomination the previous year. Bingham had left Congress under something of a cloud. He’d had dubious dealings with the crooked Crédit Mobilier company, and on his way out the door he joined his Congressional colleagues in voting themselves a retroactive pay increase (known as the “Salary Grab”). But despite some grumbling, the Grant administration and the Senate had approved him as minister to Japan.

    Bingham had once been an important legislator and prosecutor when America, like Japan, was enduring civil strife in the 1860s. Bingham supported laws to conscript men, suspend habeas corpus, and to take other steps allegedly needed to win the war. During a two-year interval after he had been rejected by the voters in the Democratic surge of 1862, Bingham served as a military prosecutor. His cases included the controversial court-martial of Surgeon General William A. Hammond during the war, and the also-controversial military trial of the alleged Lincoln assassination conspirators at the war’s end.

    Accused of violating the Bill of Rights with his wartime actions, Bingham replied that in the dire emergency posed by the war, civil liberties would have to be set aside.

    Bingham’s constituents sent him back to the House in time for him to serve in the postwar Congress as it grappled with Reconstruction. Bingham seemed to have been chastened by his defeat in 1862 – a believer in equal rights, he’d been reminded that he could only go so far ahead of his white racist constituents. He began showing comparative caution on race – at least he was cautious in comparison to Thaddeus Stevens, whose unswerving commitment to racial equality, combined with his anger at the ex-Confederates, earned him the title “Radical.”

    To be fair, he had a lot to be mad about
    Thaddeus Stevens

    Re-elected in 1864, Bingham became a member of the powerful committee on Reconstruction when Congress started its postwar deliberations in December 1865. Bingham wanted to keep military rule in the occupied South until the former Confederate states adopted a new constitutional amendment – the Fourteenth. Bingham would at first be content with that, without obliging the states to enfranchise the former slaves. But Bingham, and Congress, ultimately decided that the defeated Southern states would have to reorganize themselves with governments chosen by black and white voters, in addition to ratifying the new Amendment. After taking these steps, the rebellious states would be restored to the Union.

    Bingham helped shape the Fourteenth Amendment, particularly its provisions about civil liberties (Sections One and Five), as expressed in language about the privileges and immunities of citizens, due process, and equal protection. Section One was “the spirit of Christianity embodied in your legislation,” Bingham assured his constituents. Concerning the evils which the amendment would prevent, Bingham said:

    Hereafter the American people can not have peace, if, as in the past, states are permitted to take away the freedom of speech, and to condemn men, as felons, to the penitentiary for teaching their fellow men that there is a hereafter, and a reward for those who learn to do well.

    In this and other remarks, Bingham suggested that the Fourteenth Amendment provided federal enforcement to the Bill of Rights in the states. At one point, Bingham suggested that the 1833 decision in Barron v. Baltimore had simply denied that the feds could enforce the Bill of Rights in the states – the Court had not denied that the states were bound by the Bill of Rights. The Fourteenth Amendment would arm the federal government with the needed enforcement tools.

    The Supreme Court indicated that it might ruin everything by requiring civil trials for subversive elements in the ex-Confederacy. To ensure that the U. S. military could punish ex-Confederate obstructionists without a jury trial, Bingham helped strip the Supreme Court of jurisdiction in those sorts of cases. The Supreme Court acquiesced. Bingham thought it would be time enough to allow full constitutional rights after the South had accepted the terms of Congressional Reconstruction.

    When President Andrew Johnson tried to obstruct the Congressional Reconstruction program, the House impeached him. Bingham was one of the “managers” (prosecutors) in the impeachment trial, which ended with the Senate acquitting Johnson with a nailbiting margin of one vote.

    With the former slaves enfranchised and the Fourteenth Amendment ratified, Congress readmitted the former Confederate states into the Union and restored civil government. Bingham kept an eye on the South, supporting the Fifteenth (voting rights) Amendment and pushing for a bill to prosecute white supremacist terrorists like the Klan. After the Klan prosecutions seemed to cripple that organization, the Reconstruction process, and the transition to a peacetime regime of full constitutional liberties, seemed complete.

    Meanwhile, in the year Bingham arrived in Japan, the Japanese government took various reform and modernization measures with a view of catching up with the West. In 1873, the government, in an attempt to bolster its military, adopted conscription. Bingham would be familiar with conscription, which he pushed during the Civil War, but Japanese conscription was initiated in peacetime (though a dissident faction unsuccessfully pushed for a war in Korea in that same year).

    1873 also marked Japan’s adoption of the Gregorian calendar and the legalization of the previously-banned religion of Christianity. Bingham would certainly have applauded the latter measure, even though many of the newly-legalized Christians were Catholics, not members of the zealous Presbyterian “Covenanter” denomination to which Bingham belonged. Around the same time that it made Christianity legal, the Japanese government was supervising the building of new shrines for the official Shinto religion, which focused its devotional energies on the Emperor.

    As ambassador, Bingham tried to free Japan from the tentacles of the “unequal treaties”…

    These treaties were a national calamari, I mean calamity

     

    …agreeing in 1878 that the United States would renounce any rights under these treaties if the European powers could be induced to do so, too. Bingham wished to treat the Japanese government with respect instead of throwing his weight around and stomping through Tokyo like a giant fire-breathing lizard.

     

    Are you buying it?
    That lizard is YUUUGE!

    In 1878, as Bingham was showing his willingness to get Japan out from the “unequal treaties,” the secretary to minister Iwakura Tomomi published a journal of the Iwakura Mission from a few years before. The secretary, Kume Kunitake, discussed the American part of the delegation’s journey in the first of his five volumes.

    The delegation members, apart from Iwakura, all wore Western-style clothes to make a better impression on the Westerners they met (look, I used the alt-text feature to make a serious comment!)
    Japanese foreign minister Iwakura Tomomi with several key members of his delegation

    The delegates were not exactly giddy as schoolgirls about their 1872 trip through the U. S….

    File:Madre Jerónima de la Fuente, by Diego Velázquez.jpg
    What kind of image did you think I was going to put here?

    They were not simply sightseers. As Kume’s official journal showed, the delegates wanted to find out what they could about the United States so that they could turn that information to good use in their own country. The publication of the journal in 1878 indicated that the Japanese public was expected to learn these lessons, too.

    Readers of Kume’s journal learned that the delegation visited many Western and Northern states, with the visits to the ex-Confederacy limited to Washington’s home in Mount Vernon, VA. Perhaps they wanted to learn from the Civil War’s winners, not its losers. Delegation members studied the schools in Oakland, CA (“a famous educational centre in the western United States”), observed some Native Americans in Nevada (“Their features display the bone structure often seen among our own base people and outcasts”), visited Salt Lake City (“According to Mormon beliefs, if a man does not have at least seven wives he cannot enter Heaven”), visited Chicago in the wake of its recent fire (“said to have been the worst fire since the city was founded”), mixed sightseeing and diplomacy in Washington, D.C., where they reflected on the turbulence of the Presidential election (“Merchants forgot their calculations; women stayed their sewing needles in mid-stitch”), visited the naval academy in Annapolis, MD (“In America, women are not forbidden from entering government buildings”), went to see New York City’s Bible Society and YMCA (“We were suspicious of the tears of those who prayed before a man condemned to death for heresy, whom they acclaim as the son of a celestial king”), checked out West Point (“Those who fail are shamed before their relatives, but, on the other hand, this may serve as a spur to them”), and “attended a concert at the World Peace Jubilee and International Music Festival” in Boston (“Now the world is at peace, with not a speck of dust stirring”).

    Kume’s journal frequently paused in its descriptions to inform the readers of the lessons the Japanese should learn from what was being described. After recounting how the delegates were able to hire an American company to ship packages to Japan, Kume added these reflections: “When Japanese merchants think of the West, they imagine some distant galaxy. When western merchants view the world, however, they see it as a single city. With that attitude, they cannot fail to prosper.” Recounting the death of Horace Greeley “of a broken heart” after he lost the Presidential election in 1872, Kume wrote: “This reveals how Westerners are willing to throw their whole heart into the pursuit of their convictions, and if they do not realise them, they are even willing to sacrifice their lives. Without such extreme virtue and endurance, it is hard to expect success in this world.”

    "Wait, so I'm some kind of kamikaze pilot? Yeah, I'll show you a 'divine wind' - breathe deeply!"
    Horace Greeley, before he died for honor

    Kume’s account of the American Civil War also seemed to point to a moral for the Japanese to follow. After describing the strength of the proslavery forces before the war, Kume’s journal said: “Faced with such determination, the abolitionists looked into their hearts and fought harder.”

    Kume described how, after the war, many black people had achieved success in business and politics, thus showing that skin color was unconnected to intelligence. After noting the surge in the establishment of black schools, Kume’s journal added: “It is not inconceivable that, within a decade or two, talented black people will rise and white people who do not study hard will fall by the wayside.” Kume was marking out a path to success for any people whom whites were trying to marginalize.

    The North had won the American Civil War in the name of the supremacy of the federal government. But from the standpoint of centralized Japan, the U. S. still had broad respect for states’ rights: “With its own legislature, each state maintaining its autonomy and assumes the features of a genuine independent state within the federal union….the federal government derives its power from the states; the states are not created by the federal government.”

    By 1878, when Japanese readers were reading about the lessons of the Iwakura Mission’s American travels, the U. S. had already dropped a notch or two since 1872 when it came to civil liberties. President Rutherford B. Hayes, to shore up support for his contested election victory, agreed to withdraw federal troops from the South at the very time that white terrorism was resuming against the former slaves. The Supreme Court narrowed the scope of  the Fourteenth Amendment, denying it the broad liberty-affirming meaning which Bingham had once attributed to it (the process had started with the Slaughterhouse decision shortly before Bingham departed for Japan in 1873).

    To nationalists like Kume and his bosses in the Japanese government, civil liberties as such were not a concern. To them, Japan could not afford much Western-style individualism. As Bingham left his post in 1885 – removed from office by an incoming Democratic administration – Japanese leaders were preparing a Constitution which did not exactly embody Bingham’s vision of peacetime civil liberties. That constitution came out in 1889, and it centered political authority in the Emperor, not in the people. Civil liberties were generally subject to being restricted by law. The one similarity with Bingham’s ideas was a provision that the Emperor could operate without regard to constitutional rights during war or “national emergency.”

    After his diplomatic service, Bingham told Americans that he was impressed by Japan’s Meiji leadership. Like Bismarck (and like himself, Bingham might have added), the Japanese rulers had centralized and modernized a great country. Bingham did worry about one thing – the propensity of the Japanese leadership for foreign aggression.

    In his old age, Bingham fell into poverty and was apparently deteriorating mentally. His friends in Congress proposed to award him a Civil War pension based on his wartime service as a military prosecutor. To sweeten the pill for the now-resurgent Southern Democrats, Bingham’s supporters magnified his clashes with Thaddeus Stevens, whose memory the Southern leaders execrated. Bingham, the scourge of Southern “traitors,” became, in the feel-good glow of retrospect, an apostle of moderation and kindness to the white South. The pension bill was adopted. Bingham died in 1900 at age 85.

    What rescued Bingham from comparative obscurity was the debate over the meaning of the Fourteenth Amendment – specifically, the question of whether the Fourteenth Amendment required the states to obey the Bill of Rights – a doctrine known as “incorporation.” Supporters of incorporating the Bill of Rights portray Bingham as a James Madison figure who shaped the Fourteenth Amendment and whose vision was adopted by the people. Opponents of incorporation pay attention to Bingham for the purpose of minimizing his role or portraying him as legally ignorant.

    One of Bingham’s key scholarly opponents was Raoul Berger, who referred to Bingham’s “sloppiness” in reasoning, and called him a “muddled thinker, given to the florid, windy rhetoric of a stump orator, liberally interspersed with invocations to the Deity.” Berger said Bingham was “utterly at sea as to the role of the Bill of Rights.”

    Berger’s discussion of Bingham was included in his book Government by Judiciary, published in 1977. This book is a key event in the history of originalist Constitutional thought. The book took aim at key Warren Court’s decisions, in which the Court invoked the Fourteenth Amendment to justify remaking state laws regarding criminal justice, legislative apportionment, welfare rights, education, and so on. Berger presented evidence that the Fourteenth Amendment, if read according to intent of the framers of that amendment, did not achieve what the Warren court said it did.

    Some of Berger’s claims proved highly contentious, even among his fellow originalists. For instance, Berger said that the Fourteenth Amendment was never meant to abolish segregated schools or to apply the Bill of Rights to the states.

    Supporters of the Warren Court, the sort of folks who had loved Berger’s works on impeachment and executive privilege, took issue with Berger’s conclusions on the Fourteenth Amendment.

    "We don't cotton to no originalism around here."
    “We would like to address some disagreements we have with your work.”

    Conservatives, on the other hand, liked Berger’s main points, and Berger’s book became the jumping-off point for the movement of legal originalism, which conservatives liked because it exposed the bad Supreme Court decisions they opposed as illegitimate.

    Ronald Reagan’s Attorney General, Edwing Meese, took up the theme of originalism in the 1980s, including criticism of the incorporation of the Bill of Rights.

    [insert joke with Jar-Jar Binks accent here]
    Edwin Meese (center) in 1981
     In 1989, Berger doubled down on his contention that the Fourteenth Amendment does not incorporate the Bill of Rights. Berger had even more epithets for Bingham – the Congressman was “[i]ntoxicated by his own rhetoric,” his “confused utterances must have confused his listeners,” he was wrong about Barron v. Baltimore.

    To many originalists, who liked much of what Berger had to say, attacking the incorporation of the Bill of Rights (and attacking the Brown decision) represented a step too far. It was one thing to criticize made-up rights like welfare rights and the right to abortion, but there was nothing made-up about the Bill of Rights or about its applicability to the states.

    And then there are the people who throw out the baby and keep the bathwater, they're called progressives
    Bill of Rights on left, bad Supreme Court precedents on right

    Berger’s claim, briefly, was that the relevant provisions of the Fourteenth Amendment had been intended to validate the Civil Rights Act of 1866. This law guaranteed that with respect to certain basic rights (like property ownership and access to the courts), all native-born citizens would have the same rights as white citizens. Thus, so long as the states had the same laws for black people as for white people, it didn’t matter whether they obeyed the Bill of Rights.

    Berger’s opponents said, with John Bingham, that the Fourteenth Amendment was intended to force the states to obey at least the rights spelled out in the Bill of Rights, and maybe other rights of citizenship as well.

    The debate continues.

     

    Hungry yet?
    “You’ve got your Bill of Rights in my Civil Rights Bill!” “You’ve got your Civil Rights Bill in my Bill of Rights!”

     

    (See this article criticizing originalism, and this reply. See also this critique of originalism and this response.)

    Berger, who had regarded himself as a good progressive, wasn’t sure he liked the praise he was getting from the likes of Ronald Reagan, but he did not back down, defending his work in speeches and numerous articles – and even in more books.

    He died in 2000 at the age of 99.

     

    Works Consulted

     

    Raoul Berger, Death Penalties: The Supreme Court’s Obstacle Course. Harvard University Press, 1982.

    ___________, The Fourteenth Amendment and the Bill of Rights. Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 1989.

    ___________, Government by Judiciary: The Transformation of the Fourteenth Amendment. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1977.

    ___________, The Intellectual Portrait Series: Profiles in Liberty – Raoul Berger [2000], Online Library of Liberty, http://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/berger-the-intellectual-portrait-series-profiles-in-liberty-raoul-berger (audio recording)

    Marius B. Jansen, The Making of Modern Japan. Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2000.

    Kume Kunitake (Chushichi Tsuzuki and R. Jules Young eds.), Japan Rising: The Iwakura Embassy to the USA and Europe.  Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009.

    Walter LaFeber, The Clash: A History of U. S. – Japan Relations. New York: W. W. Norton, 1997.

    Gary L. McDowell, “The True Constitutionalist. Raoul Berger, 1901-2000: His Life and His Contribution to American Law and Politics.” The Times Literary Supplement, no. 5122 (May 25, 2001): 15.

    Gerald N. Magliocca, American Founding Son: John Bingham and the Invention of the Fourteenth Amendment. New York: New York University Press, 2013.

    Johnathan O’Neill, Originalism in American Law and Politics: A Constitutional History. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005.

    “Raoul Berger, Whose Constitution Writings Helped To Sink Nixon,” Boston Globe, reprinted in Chicago Tribune, September 28, 2000, http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2000-09-28/news/0009280256_1_executive-privilege-writings-constitutional

     

  • Raoul Berger, Originalism and the Bill of Rights, Part Three – Nixon, with Berger and Fries

    Now that you’ve read Part One and Part Two of my discussion of the career of Raoul Berger, it’s time for the part with Nixon in it.

    Richard Nixon looks stunning in that white dress, but who's the guy standing on his right? ALTERNATE JOKE: "Some TV show wants the rights to my middle name - sounds fine, I'm not using it."

    In the late 1960s, impeachment (accusation by the House of Representatives, followed by trial in the Senate) was thought of primarily as a means of getting rid of crooked federal judges, who could not otherwise be removed from office. Still, there had been some dramatic impeachment trials in the distant past, and there were many legal controversies left over from those trials.

    One issue was the definition of “high Crimes and Misdemeanors,” the constitutional description of the grounds for impeaching members of the U. S. government. Some advocated a narrow definition, by which only the commission of an indictable crime would justify impeachment.

    Professor Raoul Berger, after diving into the source material, decided that the Founders meant the term to mean something besides indictable misconduct. Any serious misconduct or official oppression by an officeholder, Berger argued, was impeachable.

    Berger’s discussion went through a good many points, but let’s look at one case Berger studied: The impeachment trial of Supreme Court Justice Samuel Chase in 1805.

    "Guilty as hell, free as a bird - God bless America!"
    Samuel Chase

    Conventional historiography portrayed the U. S. Senate’s acquittal of Justice Chase as a defeat for Thomas Jefferson’s Republican (now Democratic) Party and a victory for judicial independence. Had Jefferson’s Republican backers in Congress managed to remove Chase, ran the standard narrative, then other Federalist judges who stood in the way of Republican policies – people like Chief Justice John Marshall – would have been knocked down like ninepins. Only the Federalist minority in the Senate, backed by a courageous group of Republicans who put principle above party, had saved judicial independence by voting Chase Not Guilty. Such was the conventional wisdom.

    Berger had a different take. He believed that the Senate should have convicted Chase and removed him from office for numerous acts of judicial oppression. None of these acts were indictable, but they were the type of official misconduct which was impeachable under the Founders’ principles, principles which a partisan minority had violated by letting Chase get away with his behavior.

    Chase’s judicial misconduct, as Berger saw it, took place while Chase was presiding at trials of various enemies of the Federalist party (which held office before 1801, becoming a minority party afterward). Berger, just as Congress had in 1805, gave particular attention to the 1800 treason trial of John Fries, who is shown here:

    There's a restaurant in Quakertown, Pennsylvania called the Fries' Rebellion Kitchen and Taphouse, so I guess my joke isn't strictly original.

    Seriously, though, Fries (proper pronunciation: “freeze”), an auctioneer in eastern Pennsylvania, was one of the leaders of groups of discontented German-American farmers who resisted federal taxes and tax assessments on their houses and land. The 1798 house tax was graduated or, in modern terms, “progressive,” so as to impose higher burdens on wealthy homeowners. But those paranoid Germans – despite their generally moderate income – thought that higher taxes could be in the offing unless the trend was nipped in the bud. Plus, the new taxes were too reminiscent of the oppressive taxes their ancestors had faced in Germany (an early example of Godwin’s Law). Fries, a Revolutionary War veteran, rallied his supporters to drive out some of the tax assessors from his town. Then he and his forces went to demand bail for fellow-resisters who had been arrested nearby, and to insist that these defendants be tried by a local jury rather than in distant Philadelphia (about fifty miles away). When federal officials didn’t meet these demands, Fries freed the prisoners.

    Would he die with his auctioneer's hammer in his hand?
    Auction Hero? John Fries, auctioneer and tax resister, detained some tax assessors at Enoch Roberts’s Tavern (now the Red Lion Inn) in Quakertown, PA. Fries attempted (somewhat successfully) to stop his drunken followers from beating up the tax men. Justice Chase planned to have Fries hanged in front of the tavern, but a Presidential pardon prevented that from happening.

    The federal government put Fries and others on trial for treason – the trials were in Philadelphia. The first prosecution ended in a mistrial, and Chase presided at Fries’ second trial. Before he could hear from the defendant’s lawyers, Chase issued a ruling that Fries’ actions, if proven, constituted treason, and that the defense would not be allowed to argue otherwise to the jury. Fries’ lawyers withdrew from this farce of a trial, despite Chase’s efforts to walk back his behavior. Fries managed his own defense as best he could. Fries was convicted and sentenced to hang, only to be saved in the last minute when President John Adams pardoned Fries and other “rebels.” (This pardon was the final provocation which led Alexander Hamilton – who wanted Fries hanged – to break with Adams.)

    "If they ever do a musical about me, I hope they mention how I wanted to hang those tax resisters."
    Alexander Hamilton

    (Incidentally, for what it’s worth, here is Murray Rothbard praising an earlier tax revolt, the Whiskey Rebellion in western Pennsylvania. Interestingly enough, Fries had served in the militia to suppress that revolt.)

    Chase had engaged in oppressive behavior toward defendants in other trials, too, including the seditious libel trial of James Callender. Chase pressed, with more than judicial zeal, for Callender’s conviction for the “crime” of publishing a critical pamphlet about President Adams. (Judging from Callender’s “biography” on the Web page of the Federal Judicial Center – an agency of the federal judiciary – it seems that there may still be some hard feelings toward Callender in official circles.)

    Basically, Berger portrayed Chase as a classic case of an impeachable official. Presumably, Berger hoped that the next time someone in the federal government committed comparably grave misconduct, they wouldn’t get away with it as Chase had.

    (Today, Fries has a section of Pennsylvania Route 663 named after him. Chase has an elementary school in Maryland.)

    By around 1971, Berger had completed work on his book, Impeachment: The Constitutional Problems. His publisher, Harvard University Press, didn’t exactly rush the book into print, delaying the publication of this boring treatise until 1973. By that time Berger had resumed his research on executive privilege in preparation for a book on that subject, Executive Privilege: A Constitutional Myth, which came out in 1974.

     

    Ka-ching!
    In the publishing industry, this is known as “good timing.”

    Impeachment  hit the shelves as President Richard Nixon was in the middle of the Watergate scandal, and the public eagerly bought up copies of this suddenly very relevant book. When Executive Privilege came out, that book was popular too, due to Nixon’s claim that he could withhold information from Congress and the courts. As the title suggests, Berger thought executive privilege was a myth cooked up by modern Presidents in defiance of the Founders’ intentions.

    After his impeachment book came out, Berger became a popular Congressional witness for Nixon’s opponents, testifying about the legal standards for impeachment. He also testified about executive privilege, pressing Congress to have the courage to demand the necessary Watergate information from the Nixon administration, in the face of Nixon’s resistance.

    Like an old-fashioned ladies' locker room, there were no subpoenas allowed
    The executive branch under Nixon (see alt text for punch line)

    Berger was a celebrity with a message which was welcome to the media and many parts of the public: Congress had the power to investigate Nixon for abuse of power, and Nixon should be impeached. Berger appeared on a Bill Moyers special on PBS, and on Pacifica Radio.

    And there was a flattering profile in the New York Times, which commenced with some really classy ethnic humor: “Raoul Berger thinks of himself as a Dutch housemaid sweeping out dark corners of the Constitution….Every few months he lays his broom aside long enough to testify before a Congressional committee, transforming himself from Dutch housemaid into Dutch uncle.”

    What? She's a French maid, isn't she? I thought you guys would be grateful.
    I looked for an image of a Dutch maid, but all I found was this painting of a French kitchen maid peeling turnips

    Anyway, Berger got a lot of favorable attention from the media and Congressional foes of Nixon, emboldening them in their determination to remove him from office.

    (One of Berger’s stances might have been helpful to Nixon – Berger said that the U. S. Supreme Court could review impeachment cases, so that even if the Senate had convicted Nixon, Berger’s view was that Nixon could have taken the matter up to the Supreme Court. The Supreme Court itself would reject this position in 1993, in the case of another Nixon – Walter Nixon, a district judge who was impeached and removed from office. The Senate’s decision was final, said the Court.)

    The end came when the U. S. Supreme Court – under Chief Justice Warren Burger, who had been appointed by Nixon…

    Oh, I get it, you thought I would have a picture of a hamburger here. That would be a truly lame-ass pun.
    Warren Burger

    …ruled that Nixon’s claim of executive privilege would have to yield to the need of the courts for information. Shortly after that, Nixon resigned under threat of impeachment.

    But as Professor Berger noted in the UCLA Law Review, the Court had simply assumed that the President possessed some level of executive privilege which might, in other circumstances (not involving Watergate) justify withholding information from the courts or Congress. Professor Berger complained that the Supreme Court had not even considered his scholarship refuting the idea of executive privilege.

    But for the moment, thanks to Watergate and Nixon’s disgrace, broad constitutional claims of executive power and executive privilege were for a time discredited. As Baked Penguin has reminded me, this was the era of a strengthened Freedom of Information Act, allowing individual citizens to go to court to demand information in the custody of the executive branch. Judges, not executive officials, make the final decision about whether citizens get to see the material – though there are numerous grounds the executive can give in court for not releasing the documents (privacy, national security, etc.). (When someone does a full-blown biography of Berger, including looking at his papers at Harvard, his role in FOIA and other developments of the time can be more fully described.)

    The seeds of a backlash were already being planted. Just as progressives, faced with Republican Presidents and Democratic Congresses, had become more alarmed about executive power than they had been under Democratic Presidents, so too many conservatives were reversing their former support of Congressional power and coming to see a strong Presidency as a counterbalance to a liberal Congress. In this context, conservative Yale law professor Ralph K. Winter, Jr., wrote a scathing review of Berger’s Executive Privilege. To Winter, Berger was an over-hyped academic whose views on executive privilege were not worthy of serious consideration.

    Perhaps Winter grouped Berger among the leftists who (Winter believed) were trying to hamper the Presidency, now that Congressional power had become a progressive cause. To Winter, left-wingers were bitching about the growth of Presidential power because they were looking for scapegoats for the failures of the Great Society.

    (Winter was later appointed to the Second Circuit court by Ronald Reagan, and in the 2000’s he served on the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court of Review – the FISA appeals court. In the latter position, Winter showed his sympathies with broad executive-branch surveillance. Perhaps privacy is something the President needs but not something the President has to respect when snooping on others?)

    Winter’s criticism of Berger was the exception. As Nixon left office in disgrace, most of the intelligentsia and the media praised Berger for his meticulous legal scholarship and his willingness to speak truth to power.

    "And we'll always have your back and we won't suddenly turn on you or anything!"
    “A toast – to a stout-hearted champion of the Constitution!”

    It was time for Berger to turn to another research project. This time, he decided, he would tackle the Fourteenth Amendment.

     

    Works Consulted

    Raoul Berger, , Executive Privilege: A Constitutional Myth. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1974.

    ___________, Impeachment: The Constitutional Problems. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973.

    ___________, “The Incarnation of Executive Privilege,” 22 UCLA L.R. 1 (October 1974), pp. 4-29.

    ___________, The Intellectual Portrait Series: Profiles in Liberty – Raoul Berger [2000], Online Library of Liberty, http://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/berger-the-intellectual-portrait-series-profiles-in-liberty-raoul-berger (audio recording)

    “Dr. Raoul Berger to Deliver Lefkowitz Lecture at Emanu-El,” Texas Jewish Post (Fort Worth, Tex.), Vol. 28, No. 47, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 21, 1974, online at https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth754832/m1/5/

    Gary L. McDowell, “The True Constitutionalist. Raoul Berger, 1901-2000: His Life and His Contribution to American Law and Politics.” The Times Literary Supplement, no. 5122 (May 25, 2001): 15.

    Paul Douglas Newman, Fries’s Rebellion: The Enduring Struggle for the American Revolution. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004.

    Johnathan O’Neill, Originalism in American Law and Politics: A Constitutional History. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005.

    Israel Shenker, “Expert on the Constitution Studies Executive Privilege,” New York Times, July 26, 1973, online at http://www.nytimes.com/1973/07/26/archives/expert-on-the-constitutionstudiesexecutive-privilege-became.html

    “Raoul Berger, Whose Constitution Writings Helped To Sink Nixon,” Boston Globe, reprinted in Chicago Tribune, September 28, 2000, http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2000-09-28/news/0009280256_1_executive-privilege-writings-constitutional

    “Watergate, Politics and the Legal Process,” American Enterprise Institute Round Table, March 13-14, 1974.

    Ralph K. Winter, Jr., “Book Review: Executive Privilege: A Constitutional Myth” (1974). Faculty Scholarship Series. Paper 2181, http://digitalcommons.law.yale.edu/fss_papers/2181.

  • Raoul Berger, Originalism, and the Bill of Rights, Part Two – Special Stripping Episode

    In Part One, we started following the life of Raoul Berger (1901-2000).

    Now in Part Two, we pick up where we left off last time. We find Berger, recently widowed, in his sixties as the Sixties got started. He took a job teaching law at the University of California at Berkeley.

    Groovy, baby
    “Berkeley, here I come! California sun, hippies, free love, rock and roll, marijuana, taking over the dean’s office…I hope they don’t make too much noise enjoying those things while I’m at the library studying constitutional history.”

    Holding his views about the importance of history to nailing down the meaning of the Constitution, Berger was now in a position to flesh out that history. He began the first of several historical research projects seeking the meaning of the Constitution as understood by those who framed and adopted it.

    Berger produced a two-part article about executive privilege in the UCLA Law Review in 1964 and 1965. These articles vehemently attacked the executive privilege doctrine, both on practical grounds and on the grounds of the intent of the Framers of the Constitution.

    Executive privilege is basically part of a double standard cooked up by lawyers in the Cold War executive branch. At a time when the executive branch was engaged in massive intrusions into the privacy of the American people (with or without the approval of Congress and Congress), Presidential lawyers suggested that neither Congress nor the courts could see the private and confidential records of the executive branch or obtain testimony about the executive’s affairs, unless the President approved. The justification was that, if the President’s advisers feared having their confidential advice being disclosed to Congress and the courts, it would make them timid. Welcome to the world the rest of us have to live in – a world where things we thought were private can be revealed to the government via subpoenas and snooping.

    For the supporters of “executive privilege,” one of the rhetorically most effective arguments involved former Senator Joseph McCarthy (R-WI), who flourished from 1950 to 1954. As a powerful subcommittee chairman from 1953 to 1954, McCarthy had been able to subpoena various government departments (such as the Army) for testimony and documents about possible Communist infiltration and the adequacy of existing procedures for keeping Communists out of the government. When we realize that McCarthy’s subcommittee was the Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations of the Committee on Government Operations, we can see how utterly irrelevant McCarthy’s subpoenas were to anything in which Congress or the public had an interest (note the sarcasm). The Eisenhower administration had ducked and defied the subpoenas and had justified its behavior by reference to executive privilege. McCarthy’s censure in 1954 had seemed to justify the Eisenhower administration’s stance. (To be sure, the censure denounced McCarthy, not for abusing his Senate investigative powers, but for obstructing Senate committee investigations into his own conduct). Given McCarthy’s reputation as a reckless demagogue who targeted innocent people, executive privilege could be portrayed (though it was a stretch) as a necessary protection against Congressional prying into the executive branch’s affairs.

    I guess it's back to the bottle for him
    “Now, Mr. Hendrix, remembering that you are under oath, answer my questions: Are you experienced? Have you ever been experienced?”

    Berger’s article said that “One who would espouse the claim of Congress to be fully informed must face up to the fact that the rampant excesses of the McCarthy Senate investigations left the process in bad odor.”

    Congress had every right, said Berger, to demand information from the executive branch. The President and the bureaucracy were seeking “immunity from congressional inquiry except by executive leave.” This was wrong as a matter of policy because the executive branch had too much power already, and Congress was entitled to get information about the operation of the laws it passed and the spending of the money it appropriated. Executive privilege wasn’t necessary to protect the executive, as shown by the fact that the Kennedy administration had greatly curtailed the use of executive privilege, without any noticeable harm. The issue had not yet been settled however. The current President, Lyndon Johnson, still claimed the right to invoke executive privilege even though, like Kennedy, he was not exercising it very much. “[I]t may be doubted in light of the past, whether future successors who lack [Kennedy and Johnson’s] legislative experience will” be as deferential to Congressional demands for information.

    To show the unconstitutional nature of executive privilege, Berger gave a lengthy review of “parliamentary and colonial history prior to the adoption of the Constitution, without which ‘the language of the Constitution cannot be interpreted safely.’” (the internal quotation is from this case). This history, Berger argued, demonstrated that the Constitution did not confer on the executive branch the unlimited privilege of withholding information from Congress.

    “History,” Berger proclaimed, is “the traditional index of constitutional construction.” Berger did not insist that historical analysis would trump all practical considerations, but he added that there was no conflict between history and practicality when it came to the executive privilege question. “For present purposes, it suffices to regard historical evidence, not as conclusive, but as a necessary beginning upon which we can rely until, in Holmes’ phrase, ‘we have a clear reason for change.’” In a footnote, Berger reiterated his belief in the historical approach: “the Constitution was designed as a bulwark for minorities; and it can be sapped by freewheeling interpretation.” Berger commented in another footnote: “On any theory it is incompatible with the lofty role of the Constitution to ‘expand’ it as waywardly as an accordion.”

    Berger’s solution was to have the courts review Congressional demands for information from Congress. This would avoid giving the final decision to the executive, and it would avoid the dangers of an opposite problem of unlimited Congressional power.

    During the mid-sixties, executive privilege was a strictly back-burner subject. It was of interest to legal scholars like Berger, but as Berger himself had mentioned in his article, Presidents Kennedy and Johnson had dialed back on the exercise of the privilege. Of course, Kennedy and Johnson still insisted they had the right to block Congressional inquiries, but this sort of abstract question was not the sort of thing which would get most people excited. Certainly not in the left-progressive community, which for the moment was comfortable with the idea of broad Presidential power. With the White House occupied by Democrats who were more leftist than the Congressional leadership, progressives had no urgent need to curtail the President’s prerogatives. So they thought.

    Berger left Berkeley in 1965. He ended up at Harvard, where he would become the Charles Warren Senior Fellow in American Legal History.

    At least Harvard people have a healthy self-esteem
    Harvard Gate, with its low-key, modest inscription

    The fruits of Berger’s next research project came out in 1969. His work was based on a desire to find out whether judicial review – the power of federal courts to declare laws unconstitutional – was actually based in the original understanding of the Constitution. Berger also wanted to know whether Congress could limit the power of the U. S. Supreme Court to hear appeals from lower courts. In Congress v. The Supreme Court, Berger answered the first question with a yes (the original understanding justified judicial review) and the second question with a no (Congress did not have the power to limit the Supreme Court’s appellate jurisdiction).

    These particular topics certainly resonated in 1969, given then-recent history. To review this history, given that my ultimate topic is the Bill of Rights, let me discuss what happened with the Bill of Rights in the 1960s, and let me in particular direct the reader to the dog that didn’t bark.

    Not only did the dog not bark, it didn't hunt. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.
    Awww…cute little doggie! Now, what was I saying?

    In a series of decisions in the 1960s, the Supreme Court under Chief Justice Earl Warren said that the states were required, under the Fourteenth Amendment, to obey several provisions of the Bill of Rights from which the Court had previously exempted them.

    You may remember Earl Warren as the author of a California law by which a criminal defendant’s refusal to take the stand could be considered evidence of guilt. The Supreme Court had upheld that provision in 1947, based on the idea that the states didn’t have to respect the privilege against self-incrimination. In 1964, the Supremes said that actually, the states couldn’t force criminal defendants to incriminate themselves.

    (In 1965 the Supremes clarified that this made Earl Warren’s old law unconstitutional – a defendant’s refusal to testify could not be used against him. Warren did not take part in this decision due to his authorship of the law the Court was striking down).

    States now had to obey the Fifth Amendment’s self-incrimination clause. States also had to obey a bunch of other clauses which had formerly been optional for them: the Sixth Amendment’s right to trial by jury, the Eighth Amendment’s ban on cruel and unusual punishments, the right to counsel (even for the poor), the Fifth Amendment’s ban on double jeopardy, and some others. By the time the Court was finished, only a few Bill of Rights provisions remained optional for the states – minor things like the Second Amendment and the grand jury clause.

    If applying parts of the Bill of Rights to the states had been all the Warren Court had done, the Justices probably wouldn’t have provoked a lot of fuss. The reason that opposition to the Warren Court grew in the 1960s wasn’t because of the Bill of Rights, it was because of the Court’s controversial interpretations of the Bill of Rights.

    Specifically, the court gave three controversial decisions – Escobedo v. Illinois, Miranda. v. Arizona, and United States v. Wade. Under these decisions, federal, state, county, and city cops had to follow certain standards when investigating or questioning suspects or else their police work wouldn’t hold up in court. The cops had to allow a suspect have his lawyer with him during questioning or during a post-indictment lineup. The cops had to inform a suspect of his rights, including the right not to talk to the cops at all. If the cops ignored a suspect’s newly-enunciated rights, then any confession they obtained would have to be excluded from the suspect’s trial. In the case of post-indictment lineups held without the suspect’s lawyer, a witness who had been tainted by such a lineup wouldn’t be allowed to identify the defendant in court.

    These decisions may well have been the right call, but what I want to emphasize is the nature of the opposition these decisions provoked. Opponents didn’t  say that it was an outrage that the Supremes imposed parts of the Bill of Rights on the states. They didn’t object in principle, they claimed, to the right against self-incrimination or the right to a lawyer. What they objected to was the broad interpretation the Supremes had given to these rights, an interpretation so broad (opponents claimed) that it improperly assisted criminals against society’s “peace forces” (to quote Richard Nixon, who began his Presidential campaign around this time). To the critics, a suspect’s confession could be perfectly voluntary even if the police hadn’t given an explicit Miranda warning in advance of questioning, and a witness who said (s)he recognized the suspect from a lineup should be able to say so in court even if the cops hadn’t allowed the suspect’s lawyer to attend the lineup.

    So here is “the dog that didn’t bark.” Whether the opponents of the Warren Court were right or wrong, what irked the critics wasn’t that the Court had imposed parts of the Bill of Rights on the states. The critics simply interpreted the Bill of Rights differently than the Court did, and they claimed that the Court’s interpretation was excessively pro-defendant.

    This distinction can be shown by an anti-Warren-Court proposal put forward by two influential Senators, John McClellan (D-Arkansas)

     

    "Now, Senator, let me ask about your Peninsular Campaign...oops, wrong McClellan."
    Senator John McClellan

    and Senator Sam Ervin (D-North Carolina).

    He's a "complex" figure, meaning sometimes he did stuff the progs liked and sometimes he did stuff they didn't like
    Senator Sam Ervin

    McClellan and Ervin proposed to strip…

    Ewwww!

    …the U. S. Supreme Court of its jurisdiction in certain cases. Specifically, McClellan and Ervin proposed that if a state trial court found a confession to be voluntary or decided to admit eyewitness testimony, and if a state appeals court agreed with the trial court, the U. S. Supreme Court would not have any jurisdiction to hear any challenge to the confession or the testimony (and the lower federal courts wouldn’t have jurisdiction, either). To McClellan and Ervin, this was not an attack on the Bill of Rights because properly interpreted, the Bill of Rights did not force the courts to ignore what the Senators deemed to be voluntary confessions and reliable eyewitness testimony.

    (In contrast, one might question whether a confession given in police custody, by someone who hasn’t been told of their rights, is truly voluntary; one may also question whether eyewitness testimony is reliable if the witness was influenced by an unfair lineup, especially when the suspect’s lawyer wasn’t there to double-check the process. Anyway, this is a debate on the meaning of the Bill of Rights, not on its applicability to the states.)

    McClellan and Ervin said their proposal was constitutional because the Constitution specifically empowered Congress to make “Exceptions” to the appellate jurisdiction of the Supreme Court.

    While McClellan and Ervin failed in their attempt to limit the Supreme Court’s jurisdiction, the controversy was still in the memory of Berger’s readers in 1969. In Congress v. The Supreme Court, Berger seemed to take the side of the Warren Court against its critics. Berger’s take on the intent of the founding generation was that they fully meant the U.S. Supreme Court to be able to exercise judicial review of state and federal laws. As to attempts to strip the Supremes of jurisdiction, Berger said this was unconstitutional. His analysis of the Founders’ intent took priority over what one would think was the clear constitutional language about “Exceptions.”

    In the debate over ratification, Berger explained, the “Exceptions” clause only came up with respect to the issue of jury verdicts. Opponents of the Constitution had said that the Supreme Court might arbitrarily overrule jury decisions on factual issues, and the Constitution’s supporters cited the “Exceptions” clause to show that Congress could protect jury fact-finding from Supreme Court meddling. In contrast, nothing in the ratification debates indicated that Congress would be able to close off particular legal issues from the Supremes, as McClellan and Ervin had attempted to do. Allowing such action would contradict the Founders’ concerns about the dangers of Congressional overreach and the need for judicial checks on such overreach.

    Berger concluded his book by rejecting the ideas of some Warren Court supporters that the U.S. Supreme Court should serve a policy-making role. Many progressives, unable to get their favorite policies enacted in the states and Congress, rejoiced to see Earl Warren and his colleagues impose such policies on the country in the name of the Constitution. Shouldn’t an enlightened Supreme Court provide “leadership” to a country in dire need of it? Berger said no, the U. S. Supreme Court was intended by the Founders to be a strictly legal tribunal, not a policy-making body.

    The progressives were willing to forgive Berger for opposing their vision of a policy-making Supreme Court. After all, didn’t Berger’s scholarship show that the Supreme Court was constitutionally protected against the reactionaries who would hobble the Court’s ability to do justice? So Berger got a good deal of praise in progressive circles.

    Now Berger turned to another obscure legal topic: impeachment.

    To Be Continued…

     

    Works Consulted

     

    Raoul Berger, Congress v. The Supreme Court. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969.

    ___________, “Executive Privilege v. Congressional Inquiry,” Part I, 12 UCLA L. Rev. 1043 1964-1965.

    ___________, “Executive Privilege v. Congressional Inquiry,” Part II, 12 UCLA L. Rev. 1287 1964-1965.

    ___________, The Intellectual Portrait Series: Profiles in Liberty – Raoul Berger [2000], Online Library of Liberty, http://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/berger-the-intellectual-portrait-series-profiles-in-liberty-raoul-berger (audio recording)

    Adam Carlyle Breckenridge, Congress Against the Court. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1970.

    Carl E. Campbell, Senator Sam Ervin, Last of the Founding Fathers. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2007.

    Richard C. Cortner, The Supreme Court and the Second Bill of Rights. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1981.

    Gary L. McDowell, “The True Constitutionalist. Raoul Berger, 1901-2000: His Life and His Contribution to American Law and Politics.” The Times Literary Supplement, no. 5122 (May 25, 2001): 15.

    Johnathan O’Neill, Originalism in American Law and Politics: A Constitutional History. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2005.

    David A. Nichols, Ike and McCarthy: Dwight Eisenhower’s Secret Campaign Against Joseph McCarthy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2017.

    Israel Shenker, “Expert on the Constitution Studies Executive Privilege,” New York Times, July 26, 1973.

  • The slaver who became a champion of liberty – or did he?

     

     

    'Fun-loving" was ruled the least likely term to be used to describe him, beating out "hirsute"
    John Archibald Campbell – between 1870 and 1880

     

    On March 6, 1857, a large audience crowded into a room in the U. S. Capitol to hear the justices of the Supreme Court pronounce on the fate of Dred Scott, a black man seeking a legal ruling that he was a free man. Scott claimed he had been liberated from slavery by living in federal territory where slavery had been forbidden by Congress’ Missouri Compromise law. Scott had come to the wrong place. Chief Justice Roger Brooke Taney read an opinion declaring that Scott remained a slave, that black people, slave or free, were not citizens, and that the Missouri Compromise was unconstitutional because it purported to keep slavery out of federal territories.

    The following day, Justices Benjamin Curtis and John McLean read their dissents. Not all of the Justices read their opinions on these two days, however. Justice John Archibald Campbell had a written opinion in which he agreed that Dred Scott was a slave.

    This is the story of John Archibald Campbell – a “fascinating figure” according to the actor Gregory Itzin, the guy who played Campbell in Steven Spielberg’s movie Lincoln. Of course, as an article in startrek.com noted, Itzin is “especially good at being bad, or at least being in league with the villains of too many movies and television shows to count.” So Itzin’s remark doesn’t necessarily count as a character reference. And since Spielberg only gave the Campbell character one line, there wasn’t much chance for Itzin to flesh out Campbell in detail (except through the stern gazes he directed at other characters).

    The fact is that the same John A. Campbell who ruled for slavery in the Dred Scott  case also (unsuccessfully) promoted a broad pro-liberty interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment in the Slaughterhouse Cases.

     

    I was going to insert a picture of the character Two-Face, but there was some kind of legal hang-up, so here's a statue of Janus the two-faced god.

     

    It’s not clear whether Campbell agreed with Taney’s view that all black people – slave or free – were categorically excluded from citizenship. Campbell’s opinion in Dred Scott focused on the other key issue of the case – slavery in the federal territories. Here Campbell reiterated views he’d held since about 1850, before he was on the Court – views which had grown mainstream among Taney and other leading Southerners. Although as recently as 1848, Campbell had admitted that Congress could ban slavery in the federal territories, two years later Campbell proclaimed the opposite doctrine.

    Concerned with Northern attacks on the South in the name of antislavery, Campbell in 1850, as in 1857,  said that a Southerner who settled in a federal territory had the right to hold his slaves there as “property,” just like a Northern settler had the Constitutional right to hold his farm implements, cows, and pigs as property. Campbell believed that this was an issue of equal rights – the Southerner must have the same right to his version of property that the Northerner had to his version. Defending slave-owning as a matter of equal rights – that’s some messed-up s*** right there – but it’s what most elite Southerners had come to believe.

     

    "So what you're saying, Judge, is that slavery is freedom."
    Dred Scott (1882 painting based on 1857 photograph)

     

    Campbell actually thought slavery was on the way out. In articles he wrote in his pre-Court days, he said that the spirit of the age in America, as well as the South’s need to shift from agriculture to commerce and industry, would lead to the end of the Peculiar Institution. But sudden emancipation, such as urged by Northern abolitionists, would (Campbell believed) lead to bloodshed and economic disaster – as in Haiti. To gradually ease out of slavery, Campbell wrote, the Southern states – without Northern meddling – should prepare slaves for freedom by giving them at least a basic education, protecting their families from being broken up by sale, and preventing creditors from seizing an owner’s slaves. But as Northern pressure against slavery increased, Campbell believed that Southerners’ priority should be to resist this outside pressure and defend slavery against Yankee attacks.

    Before being appointed to the Supreme Court, Campbell had been a prominent attorney in Mobile, Alabama. He made his reputation by defending clients who owned valuable land next to the Mobile River. In arguments ultimately accepted by the state and federal Supreme Courts, Campbell said that Alabama, when it became a state in 1819, acquired the right to dispose of these lands regardless of interference from the federal government – a position which established Campbell’s clients’ title to the land as well as putting Campbell on the states’ rights side of a key issue.

    From 1849 to 1853, Campbell appeared many times before the U. S. Supreme Court – mostly losing his cases but impressing the Justices with the quality of his preparation and legal argument.

    Campbell was also active in the Southern Rights Association, a group which warned Southerners of the dangers posed by Northern opponents of slavery in the wake of the extensive conquests of the Mexican war. Anonymous pamphlets by Campbell (on behalf of the Mobile branch of the Southern Rights Association) warned that Northern fanatics were trying to prevent Southerners from settling in the new territories with their slaves, as was allegedly their constitutional right. A fellow-Alabamian, William Lowndes Yancey, was a leader of the Southern rights Association and had previously worked with Campbell. Yancey was a leading “fire-eating” supporter of Southern rights and of a separate Southern nation.

    Campbell put some distance between himself and Yancey at an 1850 convention of Southern leaders, held at Nashville to consider the danger posed by Northern antislavery initiatives. Many of the resolutions passed at the Nashville convention were drafted by Campbell, and took what in the political climate of the time was a conciliatory tone in comparison to Yancey’s secessionism. The Nashville Convention resolutions warned the North that it must allow slavery in the territories and otherwise respect Southern “rights.” But any talk of secession was declared premature. Compromise measures approved in Congress should be given a chance to work. The resolutions were vague on whether secession would ever be a good idea.

    When Democratic President Franklin Pierce took office in 1853, he had to fill a Supreme Court vacancy left by the death of John McKinley of Alabama. After looking around for a good nominee, Pierce selected Campbell, who came recommended by all but two Southern legislatures. Also backing Campbell, in a historically-rare endorsement, were the remaining members of the Supreme Court, who requested that the guy who had impressed them so much as an advocate should come up and sit on the bench with them. Pierce and the Senate agreed and put Campbell on the Court.

    One of Campbell’s Supreme Court would have denied citizenship…to corporations. If Campbell was correct, then the right of corporations to sue in federal court would be severely curtailed. But Campbell’s opinion was in dissent, and the Court majority, then as now, said corporations are citizens with broad rights to invoke the protection of the federal courts.

    Not that Campbell supported states’ rights in all cases. Like other Southern leaders, he turned into a virulent nationalist when it came to fugitive slaves. Campbell believed the federal government, under Congress’ strong Fugitive Slave Law, should send U. S. marshals to arrest black people in the North, give them a brief and inadequate hearing to decide if they were fugitives from slavery, and then ship them off to their alleged masters, without regard to any Northern state laws which tried to protect the civil liberties of accused black people. Campbell joined a unanimous Supreme Court opinion that state courts could not hear habeas corpus petitions from federal prisoners – including alleged fugitives and their Northern rescuers.

    To Campbell, the enforcement of the federal Fugitive Slave Act was a matter of justice which the North owed to the South. The South, meanwhile, should reciprocate by helping the feds fight filibusters.

     

    Look, Wikipedia says this is in the public domain.

     

    No, not that kind of filibuster. More like this:

    Yo ho ho
    William Walker’s ship in battle near Nicaragua, 1856

     

    Private American “filibuster” armies were organizing throughout the country, particularly in the South, in order to invade Latin American territory. Campbell thought the “filibuster” leaders were seeking to expand slavery and add new slave territories – like Spanish-held Cuba – to the United States.

    In those days, Supreme Court justices had duties as trial judges, and Campbell was assigned to hear federal cases in Mobile, Alabama, and in New Orleans in neighboring Louisiana. So when Campbell came to New Orleans in 1854, he told the federal grand jury to go after the filibusters, particularly former Mississippi governor John Quitman and his associates, who were plotting an attack on Cuba.

    Campbell indicated the concerns which motivated him. He told the grand jury that just as Southerners rightly demanded that Northerners put aside their antislavery feelings and let the Fugitive Slave Law be enforced, Northerners rightfully demanded that Southerners let the federal Neutrality Acts be enforced against the filibusters.

    Quitman and his associates were summoned to testify before the grand jury, but they took the Fifth, and the grand jury didn’t indict anyone. But Campbell put the kibosh on Quitman’s Cuban raid by forcing the would-be filibusters to post large money bonds – the money would be forfeit if Quitman and crew waged private wars against other countries. Quitman had to give up his plans, and he spared no invective against Campbell for his allegedly oppressive actions. Campbell later tried to take proceedings against the filibuster William Walker, but did not stop Walker from ruling Nicaragua as a slave country (until he got shot, which wasn’t Campbell’s fault).

    The filibuster-sympathizers in the South, of whom there were many, grew hostile to Campbell.

    Campbell became distressed at what he considered a conspiracy of Southern disunionists. These conspirators, in Campbell’s telling, started plotting secession around 1858. According to Campbell, filibusters joined up with supporters of a revived African slave trade in a scheme to set up a slave republic in the Southern United States and the Latin American territories they conquered. There was certainly one person thinking along these lines – William Yancey, Campbell’s former political ally from Alabama. But  Yancey wanted to break up the Union, while Campbell wanted to keep the country together, so long as this could be accomplished peacefully.

    After President Lincoln was elected in November 1860, Campbell wrote what he thought were some private letters declaring that secession was at best premature. Lincoln’s election was not in itself an act of aggression against the South, and if the federal government seemed about to adopt antislavery measures, the Southern states could consult together as they had in 1850, rather than getting into a mad rush to secede. Campbell’s “private” letters were published, exacerbating the hostility against him from red-hot secessionists in Mobile and elsewhere.

    Alabama voted to secede in January 1861,  joining several other Southern states. Campbell decided not to resign from the Supreme Court, but to stay in Washington, D.C., and try to broker some kind of compromise which would avoid war. After Abraham Lincoln took office in March, Campbell, sometimes backed up by his Court colleague Samuel Nelson of New York, offered his good offices in soothing tense relations between North and South.

    The new Confederate States of America had sent commissioners to Washington, but the Lincoln administration would not recognize them. So Campbell (and sometimes Nelson) served as go-betweens between the commissioners and William Henry Seward, the Secretary of State. Seward had been the country’s most prominent Republican before Lincoln came on the scene, and the former New York governor saw himself as basically Lincoln’s prime minister. Seward also saw himself as a peacemaker – by conciliatory gestures, he thought he could isolate the secessionists and rally support among Union-loving Southerners.

    Seward gave assurances to Campbell and Nelson that the federal authorities would soon evacuate Fort Sumter, the federal fort whose presence in Charleston Harbor had become a source of serious friction between the two sides. With Seward’s permission, Campbell conveyed the Secretary’s assurances to the Confederate commissioners and to Jefferson Davis. Later, when Fort Sumter was obviously not being evacuated, Seward told Campbell that Lincoln was under pressure from hardliners not to withdraw, but at least the feds would give advance warning before resupplying the fort. What had actually happened is that Lincoln had made clear that he, not Seward, was President, and that Seward’s peace overtures were unauthorized. Seward retained considerable power in the administration, but no longer as an independent policymaker.

    In the end, the Confederates concluded that United States forces wouldn’t leave Fort Sumter unless they were forced out, and thus the Civil War began.

     

    "This would never have happened if Seward had pulled out when he said he would."
    Bombardment of Fort Sumter, Charleston Harbor: 12th & 13th of April, 1861

     

    Campbell, understandably feeling duped by Seward, concluded that his usefulness as a peacemaker was at an end, and that his place was with the South. He resigned from the Supreme Court and moved to New Orleans, a friendlier city to him than Mobile. Campbell planned to resume private law practice.

    New Orleans was an important Southern port. It also had some serious public health problems, though Campbell didn’t know the future relevance of this fact to his career. People dumped their garbage and excrement in the streets and in parts of the Mississippi which fed the municipal water pipes. Butchers dumped carcasses and offal in the river or even used their waste to fill holes in the street. Physicians and the various public-health boards before the war had issued repeated warnings that this situation was linked to the periodic outbreaks of cholera and yellow fever which almost routinely hit the city, endangering residents who weren’t well-off enough to evacuate until the infection ran its course.

    The war temporarily improved the situation, though Campbell probably didn’t appreciate the way the improvements happened. In 1862, Union forces conquered the city, and General Benjamin Butler became the Union commander in occupied New Orleans. A bad general, Butler could be a good administrator and, at least in the North, a good politician. His harsh measures against Confederate sympathizers (treating rebel-sympathizing women like prostitutes, for instance) made him hated in New Orleans, but Butler did the Crescent City a favor with vigorously-enforced sanitary regulations.

    Sanitary or not, Campbell for his part didn’t want to be in a Union-occupied city, and he moved to Richmond, VA, the Confederate capital. It is possible that, due to Campbell’s fame as a U.S. Supreme Court Justice, President Jefferson Davis might have appointed Campbell to the Confederate Supreme Court. However, there was no Confederate Supreme Court to which Campbell could have been appointed. The Confederate Congress refused to authorize such a Supreme Court, concerned that such a body would diminish the powers of the state courts. Another factor might have been that many of the solons didn’t like Campbell and didn’t want him to be a Justice again.

    Instead, Campbell got a position as Assistant Secretary of War. He would help the War Department in its administrative work, provide legal opinions, and administer the Confederate conscription program.

    The most significant part of Campbell’s legacy at the Confederate War Department was his campaign to protect the rights of conscientious objectors. Here Campbell manifested a sense of justice toward religious pacifists who refused to be drafted into the Confederate army. The conscription statute allowed members of recognized peace sects – Quakers, Mennonites, Dunkers – to be exempt from service upon payment of a hefty fee. Some pacifists could not or would not pay the fee, while others got screwed around by military authorities and were dragged into the army where the statute no longer protected them.

    Campbell worked assiduously to make sure that religious pacifists had the chance to pay their commutation fees, and to receive civilian assignments which were consistent with their consciences, and even to get discharged from the army if they had been forcibly mustered in – this latter initiative on Campbell’s part went beyond the letter of the conscription statute. Lobbyists for the various peace sects knew who to call when any of their members faced draft problems. This was useful because the Quakers, in particular, could not necessarily count on sympathy with Confederate authorities due to the well-known Quaker opposition to slavery. Campbell for one was happy to help Quakers, and he had a good working relationship with John Bacon Crenshaw, a Quaker leader in the Richmond area who brought the cases of both Quakers and non-Quakers to Campbell’s attention.

     

    In Pringle's case Campbell couldn't do much because Pringle was drafted by the North. But President Lincoln eventually relented and released Pringle and two companions who were suffering similarly.
    Self-portrait of Cyrus Pringle, American botanist and Quaker pacifist – he was tortured during the Civil War for refusing to submit to conscription. John A. Campbell tried to protect people like Pringle from being persecuted for their consciences. (click the picture or see the alt-text for punch line)

     

    Campbell drew the line at draft-dodgers who merely pretended to be religious pacifists – the Quakers and others saw an upsurge in membership applications at this time. Campbell warned officials not to recognize phony pacifists in religious clothing.

    Campbell also fumed that certain state courts were ordering the release of conscripts deemed improperly drafted. Getting in touch again with his inner nationalist, Campbell denied that state courts could interfere with Confederate prisoners, just as he had denied that state courts could interfere with U.S. prisoners.

    At one point, a would-be assassin wrote the War Department, offering his services in bumping off Lincoln. A good bureaucrat, Campbell routinely forwarded the letter to the appropriate official, and the assassination plan was ignored.

    Working in the Confederate War Department was not nearly as lucrative as private law practice in the South or a Supreme Court justiceship in Washington. With a salary measured in Confederate currency, and with inflation in Richmond, it would not have been a comfortable existence. And the whole Confederacy was in a bad condition: attacked, blockaded, and losing territory (like New Orleans) to a richer, more populous enemy.

    By December 1864, Campbell was convinced that the Confederacy was a Lost Cause, and he wrote North to Supreme Court Justice Samuel Nelson, his former colleague, saying that an “honorable peace” should be worked out. Nelson replied that peace talks were already in the works.

    President Lincoln was being pressured by an influential supporter, the old Jacksonian Francis Preston Blair, to seek peace talks with the South. Lincoln couldn’t afford to alienate Blair, so he allowed Blair to sound out Confederate President Jefferson Davis, who seemed quite receptive.

    The Confederacy was collapsing all around Jefferson Davis, morale was low, and Davis was being criticized from all quarters. Yet Davis had not had a Steiner Moment. He still thought the war was winnable, if only he could rally the people behind one more grand effort. What better way to revive the public’s patriotism than to show that Lincoln was seeking a complete, humiliating surrender? And what better way to get the necessary proof of Lincoln’s evil intentions than by sending a delegation of known peaceniks to attempt negotiations with Lincoln? That would show Davis’ domestic opposition that there was no way forward except continuing the war under Davis’ leadership.

    So the Confederate President responded to Blair’s initiative. Davis picked three peace commissioners known for their opposition to his war policy: Confederate Vice President Alexander Stephens, Confederate Senator R. M. T. Hunter…and Campbell. The three commissioners crossed Union lines and met Lincoln and Seward aboard the boat River Queen near Hampton Roads, Virginia.

    "Let's sing a classic riverboat song...how about 'Waiting for the Robert E. Lee'?"
    The River Queen

     

    There followed four hours of friendly conversation, but the two sides were far apart. Lincoln was committed to negotiate peace in “our one common country,” while Davis’ instructions spoke of negotiating peace between “the two countries.” Campbell, pragmatically, didn’t adhere to Davis’ delusions and instead raised practical issues about the terms of a Northern victory. Would Reconstruction of the former Confederate states be harsh or lenient? Would Southerners who had lost property – not just phony “property” like slaves but honest to goodness property like land, farm animals, and so on – get restitution or compensation?

    Campbell’s realism contrasted with the time-wasting weirdness of others. Hunter said Lincoln should negotiate with his domestic foes like Charles I did, virtually inviting Lincoln’s zinger that Charles had lost his head. Stephens and Seward mulled over Francis Blair’s Quixotic plan for a joint Union-Confederate expedition against the French in Mexico. Lincoln insisted that the Confederates would have to stop fighting and rejoin the Union. The meeting ended with everyone on good terms, but they were no closer to a peace deal.

    As the commissioners were departing, Seward had a black sailor row a boat over to give the commissioners a gift of some champagne. In a remark worthy of Blanche Knott’s Truly Tasteless Jokes, Seward called out to the commissioners to “keep the champagne, but return the Negro.” (This incident didn’t make it into Spielberg’s movie.)

    Davis, as he had probably planned all along, sought to rally the public by telling them of Lincoln’s intransigence. These pep talks didn’t stop the inevitable.

    Soon after Campbell’s return to Richmond, the Confederate government evacuated the city. Campbell remained behind as federal troops moved in, and the ex-Justice again tried to take up a peacemaking role. Campbell hoped that Lincoln would let the old Confederate states keep their existing governments once they rejoined the union, and that these states would be spared military rule.

    Lincoln came to Richmond on a visit, giving Campbell a chance to take the matter up with the President in person. Campbell suggested that if the pro-Confederate Virginia legislature agreed to put Virginia back in the Union, soldiers from Virginia would lay down their arms. Lincoln liked this, and he gave orders that the legislature could meet under Union protection for the purpose of pulling Virginia troops out of the war. This suggested at least a de facto recognition of the Virginia legislature, a key step toward mild Reconstruction and hopefully, Campbell thought, serving as a precedent for other states.

    Campbell had out-negotiated Lincoln, but it made no difference, since Lincoln had the guns and could alter the agreement at will. After Lee surrendered at Appomattox, Lincoln, facing denunciation for his softness toward the rebels, reconsidered the deal with Campbell and blocked the meeting of the Virginia legislature.

    After Lincoln’s assassination, Secretary of War Edwin Stanton believed that the killing had been plotted by Confederate higher-ups. So when a search of captured Confederate archives found that Campbell had bureaucratically handled a letter from a would-be assassin, that was enough motive to order Campbell’s arrest. Not to mention that Campbell had embarrassed Northern hardliners by trying to get Lincoln to endorse a mild reconstruction. So Campbell was imprisoned without trial at Fort Pulaski, in the harbor of Savannah (GA), for several months.

    "I'm beginning to get sick and tired of these federally-occupied forts." ALTERNATE JOKE: "Hey, Fort Pulaski is on Cockspur Island, huh huh."
    Fort Pulaski jail

    Several influential people supported Campbell’s freedom in petitions to the new President, Andrew Johnson. The Dunkers praised Campbell’s protection of the rights of conscientious objectors. The Quakers, after overcoming reservations about supporting freedom for a “traitor,” joined in appealing for the release of their former benefactor. Campbell’s old Supreme Court colleague Benjamin Curtis, who had disagreed with Campbell in the Dred Scott case, added his voice in favor of Campbell’s release.

    Finally, the feds let Campbell return to Mobile. The local citizenry was still mad at him for supposedly being a traitor to the South, so Campbell got federal permission to relocate to New Orleans, where he began building a successful law practice. He did this through his usual work ethic and by attention to the details of his cases, ultimately rebuilding the wealth he had lost during the war.

    At first Campbell’s practice was limited to state courts, because Congress required lawyers who wanted to practice in federal court swear they had never supported the Confederacy. Campbell, of course, could not swear this. The U. S. Supreme Court, however, said that Congress’ law was unconstitutional, so Campbell could practice in federal courts again.

    A prominent New Jersey lawyer wrote his daughter from New Orleans in April 1867, when he was paying a brief visit to the city. “Everybody here, of the old residency, is secessionist in feeling,” in the view of Joseph Bradley. The former slaves, stirred up to new levels of assertiveness by the federal Freedman’s Bureau, were refusing to work at rates the plantation owners could afford, and without black workers “the plantations will become a desert waste.” Back up North, Bradley dropped those sad musings when supporting General Ulysses Grant’s successful campaign for President in 1868. Bradley said that electing Grant was necessary to stamp out the “destestable heresy” of states’ rights and affirm the “paramount sovereignty” of the federal government.

    Around the time Campbell regained his right to practice in federal courts, he lost his right to hold public office. Congress adopted the harsh Reconstruction policy which Campbell had tried to avert. The former Confederate states were put under military rule until they adopted modern constitutions, allowed black men to vote, and ratified a new constitutional amendment, the Fourteenth. The Fourteenth Amendment, adopted in 1868, provided in Section 3 that prewar officeholders who joined the Confederacy would be forbidden from holding state or federal office. Campbell remained a private citizen, doing his part to oppose the new order of things.

    Louisiana elected carpetbagger Henry Clay Warmoth as governor and a Republican-majority legislature containing numerous black members. Writing to his daughter Katherine, Campbell said that “[w]e have the Africans in place all about us” as “jurors, post office clerks, customhouse officers, and day-by-day they barter away their obligations and duties.” It doesn’t take a diversity-training course to recognize this as racism – Campbell was casting reflections on the capacity of black people for self-government.

    Many of the clients Campbell took on in New Orleans filed challenges to various parts of the legislative program of the Reconstruction legislature. Campbell spearheaded the legal offensive against these laws passed by what he deemed an illegitimate government. Campbell’s initial strategy was to seek out sympathetic trial judges in New Orleans and obtain injunctions against the policies he was challenging. A Republican state Supreme Court would ultimately overturn the injunctions and allow the laws in question to be enforced, but that allowed for a good interval in which Reconstruction policies were inoperative. The legislature got wise to Campbell’s tactics and created a trial court with the exclusive responsibility of handling these challenges to Reconstruction. This was Judge Henry C. Dibble’s court, which we’ve encountered in the account of the Sauvinet case.

    During this time, Campbell took on his most famous case.

    After the U. S. military stopped enforcing General Butler’s sanitary regulations, prewar filthiness returned to New Orleans, including the return of epidemics. The Reconstruction legislature took a crack at reform, borrowing an idea used in many other big cities. The slaughtering of animals was to be confined to a particular location, a system deemed safer than letting butchers dump carcasses and offal just about anywhere.

    Under the statute, butchers would have to slaughter their animals at the specified location, at a slaughterhouse run by a state-chartered private corporation. This corporation was limited in the fees it could charge the butchers, but even so, it possessed a government-granted monopoly. Ronald M. Labbé and Jonathan Lurie, historians otherwise sympathetic to sanitary reform in New Orleans and to the Louisiana Reconstruction government, say that the company’s leaders used corrupt methods to get the needed votes in the legislature.

    "OK, let's discuss how to address the grave public-health problems of this city without infringing on basic civil liberties...guys, quiet down, I'm trying to have a serious discussion here."

    The butchers hired Campbell to challenge the slaughterhouse monopoly . Campbell claimed the law basically enslaved the butchers by requiring them to use a particular slaughterhouse. Campbell, the former defender of slavery, was prepared to invoke the Thirteenth Amendment on behalf of his clients.

    Campbell also urged a broad reading of the Fourteenth Amendment, with a definition of the privileges and immunities of citizenship broad enough to protect the right to earn an honest living. With the Fourteenth Amendment so broad, it would also protect the rights in the Bill of Rights.

    Campbell’s clients lost in the Louisiana Supreme Court in April 1870, so Campbell got permission to take the case to the United States Supreme Court. On May 15, Campbell’s daughter Mary Ellen died suddenly, probably from one of New Orleans’ yellow-fever outbreaks. Campbell had little time to mourn, because on June 9, he was in the federal circuit court then meeting in New Orleans. Campbell wanted the circuit court to issue an injunction, so that the slaughterhouse law wouldn’t be enforced until the U. S. Supreme Court could weigh in on the case.

    The circuit court consisted of Judge William B. Woods and the newest Supreme Court Justices, Joseph Bradley. The New Jersey lawyer had been commissioned as a Justice in March, and Bradley was responsible for riding circuit in Louisiana and five other Southern states, though his experience with the South was limited to his 1867 visit.

    Bradley granted the injunction, giving an opinion which indicated where he stood on the case. After initial hesitation, Bradley said that the privileges and immunities of United States citizenship under the Fourteenth Amendment included the right to earn a living, free from government monopolies such as the one the Louisiana legislature had created.

    In a case of true irony (Alanis Morissette take note), Bradley’s main client in private practice had been a railway monopoly in New Jersey. The so-called Joint Companies had the exclusive right to carry passengers and freight north and south through the state. New Jersey got a cut of the profits, allowing state taxes to remain low. The ones to suffer from the arrangement were other companies, and the travelers and shippers who could have benefited from more competition. Bradley had zealously defended the Joint Companies’ monopoly as a lawyer/lobbyist, invoking states’ rights arguments to prevent the federal government from establishing competing railroad lines, even during the war emergency. Now like Prince Hal with Falstaff, Bradley had cast off his association with the Joint Companies upon becoming a Justice.

    Campbell had to go to Washington to argue the Slaughterhouse Cases. And he had other reasons to come to Washington besides appearing before the Supreme Court. After the Louisiana elections of 1872, rival candidates for governor and other offices declared themselves elected. Campbell was part of a “nonpartisan” committee whose members happened to be Democrats. The committee complained about how the Republicans had stolen the election from the Democrats with the aid of the Grant administration and the federal courts. It was no use – Federal troops continued to back the Louisiana Republicans.

    Meanwhile, Benjamin Butler, now a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, put a bill through Congress restoring political rights to most of the ex-Confederates who had been affected by Section 3 of the Fourteenth Amendment. The bill kept a few categories of people under political disabilities, including prewar federal judges who had joined the Confederacy. Campbell came under this ban, and though he could have applied for an individual pardon from Congress, he contemptuously declined to do so, focusing on his legal practice and his Democratic political activism (these two things were linked).

    In his Supreme Court argument, Campbell said that compelling the butchers to use a specific slaughterhouse was a form of slavery or involuntary servitude, contrary to the 13th Amendment. Probably aware that the 14th Amendment argument would get taken more seriously, Campbell put particular emphasis on it, especially the clause protecting the privileges and immunities of citizenship from state infringement.

    The Fourteenth Amendment had been adopted just in time, argued Campbell, because as the franchise was extended, there were more ignorant voters.

    The force of universal suffrage in politics is like that of gun powder in war, or steam in industry. In the hands of power, and where the population is incapable or servile power will not fail to control it, it is irresistible. Whatever ambition, avarice, usurpation, servility, licentiousness, or pusillanimity needs a shelter will find it under its protection influence.

    Campbell suggested that in places like Louisiana, crooked politicians manipulated the support of ignorant voters to push through bad, self-interested laws.

    The 14th Amendment was “not confined to any race or class,” Campbell argued.

    It comprehends all within the scope of its provisions. The vast number of laborers in mines, manufactories, commerce, as well as the laborers on the plantations are defended against the unequal legislation of the States. Nor is the amendment confined in its application to the laboring men.

    Businessmen – including butchers – were protected as well.

    [C]an there be any centralization more complete or any despotism less responsible than that of a State legislature concerning itself with dominating the avocations, pursuits and modes of labor of the population; conferring monopolies on some, voting subsidies to others, restraining the freedom and independence of others, and making merchandise of the whole?

    In the Court’s internal deliberations, Justice Bradley argued the cause of a broadly-construed Fourteenth Amendment. Bradley’s adversary was Justice Samuel Freeman Miller. Both Bradley and Miller had been appointed by President Lincoln, but their judicial philosophies were very different.

    Miller viewed the Confederates – specifically including Campbell – as unreliable traitors, and he backed the Fourteenth Amendment as necessary to protect blacks and white Unionists from Southern oppression. But Miller didn’t think states’ rights were a Confederate monopoly. In his home state of Iowa, Miller saw what happened when the federal government trampled on states’ rights.

    Before the war, many Iowa communities, including Miller’s hometown of Keokuk, issued bonds to build railroads. Rail commerce was supposed to be an economic boon, but Keokuk and other places found the whole thing economically a bust. The bondholders still wanted their money. Iowa’s highest court said the bonds had been forbidden by state law, so the taxpayers were off the hook. The U. S. Supreme Court, however, said that Iowa law did authorize the bonds.

    Miller dissented because interpreting state law is the business of state courts, not federal courts – but as a trial judge Miller felt reluctantly bound to enforce his colleagues’ majority decision. This meant putting municipal officials in prison for standing up for the taxpayers and refusing payment on bonds which Iowa courts considered illegal. You didn’t have to be a Confederate to object to that sort of federal overreaching (which the Supreme Court itself repudiated a couple generations later). Perhaps one thing Miller may have agreed with the prewar Campbell about was that corporations could do much mischief if given broad access to the federal courts.

     

    "This railroad will basically pay for itself in the end, but for now we just need a little subsidy."

     

     

    Miller developed a hostile attitude to “capitalists,” whom he defined as “those who live solely by interest and dividends.” Apparently Miller blurred the distinction between crony capitalists and honest capitalists.

    As if that weren’t enough to make Miller skeptical of the butchers’ claims, Miller used to be a country physician in Kentucky, and had seen the effects of cholera, including the deaths of two of his law partners. Miller linked disease outbreaks to unhealthy slaughterhouse disposal practices.

    One of Miller’s less desirable characteristics, according to his generally sympathetic biographer Michael A. Ross, is that “Miller adjusted his legal arguments to meet practical political and economic ends, rather than adhering to a consistent judicial ideology.”

    The Supreme Court divided 4-4 on the Slaughterhouse Cases, the ninth Justice being Samuel Nelson, who had once joined Campbell in trying to play peacemaker between North and South. The elderly Nelson left the court in 1872, so the Court reconsidered the Slaughterhouse Cases once President Grant had appointed Nelson’s replacement. This replacement was Ward Hunt, a New Yorker backed by political boss Roscoe Conkling. The undistinguished Hunt later became so incapacitated that Congress awarded him a full pension in exchange for his immediate retirement. But in the first year of his term, Hunt sided with Miller and upheld the Louisiana slaughterhouse law.

    Justice Miller delivered the opinion. To Miller, Campbell’s broad view of the Fourteenth Amendment would make the Supreme Court into a “perpetual censor” on state legislation. Miller said that the Amendment had been passed to protect freed slaves and their descendants and would probably be only rarely invoked for any other purpose. The privileges and immunities protected by the Fourteenth Amendment, Miller said, were rights of United States citizenship, not of state citizenship – the latter rights were subject to state regulation. The privileges and immunities of U. S. citizenship did not include the right to earn an honest living – business regulation was a state matter. But there were some privileges and immunities of federal citizenship, and Miller listed a few traditional civil liberties.

    Justice Bradley repeated and expanded on the views he had expressed in 1870, and in the course of arguing for a broad definition of Fourteenth Amendment rights, he indicated that these included the right to earn an honest living as well as the rights mentioned in the Bill of Rights:

    The Constitution, it is true, as it stood prior to the recent amendments, specifies, in terms, only a few of the personal privileges and immunities of citizens, but they are very comprehensive in their character. The States were merely prohibited from passing bills of attainder, ex post facto laws, laws impairing the obligation of contracts, and perhaps one or two more. But others of the greatest consequence were enumerated, although they were only secured, in express terms, from invasion by the Federal government; such as the right of habeas corpus, the right of trial by jury, of free exercise of religious worship, the right of free speech and a free press, the right peaceably to assemble for the discussion of public measures, the right to be secure against unreasonable searches and seizures, and above all, and including almost all the rest, the right of not being deprived of life, liberty, or property without due process of law. These and still others are specified in the original Constitution, or in the early amendments of it, as among the privileges and immunities of citizens of the United States, or, what is still stronger for the force of the argument, the rights of all persons, whether citizens or not.

    While Campbell lost the Slaughterhouse Cases, Miller’s narrow interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment was helpful in another case Campbell took on. Here, Campbell’s clients were prosecuted for their part in a massacre.

    In Grant Parish (Grant County as non-Louisianans might call it), two rival candidates for sheriff claimed to have won the election. Black residents supported the Republican claimant, and white residents supported the Democratic/Warmothite (Fusion) claimant. Both groups of supporters, deputized by their respective candidates, faced off against each other. The better-armed whites defeated the blacks and massacred many of the survivors. The “Colfax Massacre” raised enough outrage that the Grant administration prosecuted some white perpetrators for violating the blacks’ constitutional rights, including the right to bear arms (the whites had demanded the blacks disarm) and the right to assemble peacefully.

     

    The Bill of Rights also suffered a lot of damage
    “The Louisiana Murders—Gathering The Dead And Wounded” – published in Harper’s Weekly May 10, 1873, page 397 after the Colfax massacre in Colfax on April 13, 1873.

    The white defendants were convicted, and Campbell was one of the lawyers who prepared their appeal. Campbell made free use of the Slaughterhouse precedent. The rights to peaceful assembly and bearing arms were not privileges and immunities of United States citizenship, argued Campbell, but of state citizenship only, hence not protected by the Fourteenth Amendment. Also, the crimes were private acts by private persons, and not committed by a state, and the 14th Amendment did not apply.

    Justice Bradley, one of the judges hearing the case at trial, reaffirmed that the privileges and immunities of citizenship includes the rights in the Bill of Rights, such as peaceful assembly and bearing arms. But Bradley went on to say that the violators were acting as private actors, not on behalf of the state, and that private actions could not be punished unless motivated by racism (which the indictment didn’t specifically allege).

    The Supreme Court agreed in the Cruikshank decision and went further than Bradley. There was no federal right to bear arms, the Court said. As for the right to assemble, that was only a federal right if you assemble to petition the federal government for a redress of grievances. The Court’s views on the Bill of Rights were narrower than Bradley’s, but this time Bradley did not protest, for whatever reason.

    When Democrat Samuel Tilden ran against Republican Rutherford Hayes for the Presidency in 1876, the results of the election turned on competing results from several states, including Louisiana. Campbell defended Louisiana Democrats in the Electoral Commission which had been appointed to resolve the crisis. While the Republican state government in Louisiana had certified Hayes the winner, Campbell said Congress should not defer to the states. Again putting on his nationalist hat, Campbell said Congress should overrule the Louisiana authorities and discard fraudulent Republican votes. The Commission declared Hayes the winner by an 8-7 margin. Hayes’ 8 votes came from the Republican members of the Commission, including Justices Joseph Bradley and Samuel Miller, who were voting on the same side for once.

    The South agreed to accept Hayes’ election as President in exchange for Hayes withdrawing federal troops from the South. This betrayal upset Justice Miller, who unburdened himself in a letter: Miller said he had “rendered fifteen years of faithful irreproachable service” to the Republican Party since his appointment to the bench in 1862. But now Miller was so disappointed in the Republicans that “I shall hereafter feel myself at perfect liberty to oppose or disapprove of any may or any measure as my judgment may dictate.” Better late than never, I guess.

    Without federal troops to support the Republicans, Louisiana was “redeemed” (taken over by racist Democrats).

    Campbell moved to Baltimore where he could better conduct a legal practice which focused on appearances before the Supreme Court. He died in 1889.

    If Campbell had held on for another nine years, he would have finally had his political rights restored in 1898, when a Congress flush with bro-hugging patriotism during the Spanish-American war gave an amnesty to all living ex-Confederates who still needed it. Subsequent action by Congress indicates that Campbell’s legal disabilities are still in force: In 1978 a Congressional resolution restored the office-holding rights of Jefferson Davis who, like Campbell, had died unpardoned before the 1898 amnesty. But I am not aware of any such posthumous resolution being enacted for Campbell’s benefit. Therefore, as far as Congress is concerned, Campbell is still barred from holding office under the terms of the Fourteenth Amendment.

     

    Remember, he's not legally permitted to hold office.
    Green Mount Cemetery in Baltimore, burial place of John A. Campbell

     

    Congress did name the federal district courthouse in Mobile after Campbell in 1981. In 1983, the local U. S. magistrate published an article to enlighten Alabama lawyers with a brief account of the “varied” career of the man after whom the federal courthouse was named. Probably for the sake of emphasizing the positive, the article summarized Campbell’s Supreme Court career this way: “The Supreme Court decisions of Justice Campbell are of little interest to us, but it is accurate to say that they are well-written and reflect his consistent strict-constructionist and state’s rights views.”

    Another federal courthouse building is currently being added, and the Campbell building is being renovated, so that the two buildings will make a “campus” where justice will be even more justice-ier.

     

    At least they didn't name it after Woodrow Wilson
    The John Archibald Campbell United States Courthouse in Mobile, Alabama, 9 September 2012. Photo by Chris Pruitt

     

    Works Cited

    “An Act to Designate the John Archibald Campbell United States Courthouse.” Public Law 97-126, December 29, 1981, 95 Stat. 1674. Online at https://www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/STATUTE-95/pdf/STATUTE-95-Pg1674.pdf.

    David A. Bagwell, “The John Archibald Campbell United States Courthouse in Mobile,” 44 Ala. Law. 154 1983 (May 1983).

    Peter Brock, Pacifism in the United States: From the Colonial Era to the First World War. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1968.

    “Catching up with Frequent Star trek Guest Gregory Itzin, August 2, 2012, http://www.startrek.com/article/catching-up-with-frequent-trek-guest-gregory-itzin

    Richard C. Cortner, The Supreme Court and the Second Bill of Rights: The Fourteenth Amendment and the Nationalization of Civil Liberties. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1981.

    John B. Crenshaw Papers, Hege Library, Guilford College, Greensboro, NC, available online at http://library.guilford.edu/c.php?g=210067&p=1385778

    Richard Nelson Current, Those Terrible Carpetbaggers. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988.

    Jonathan Truman Dorris, Pardon and Amnesty under Lincoln and Johnson: The Restoration of the Confederates to Their Rights and Privileges, 1681-1898. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1953.

    John Witherspoon DuBose, The life and times of William Lowndes Yancey. A history of political parties in the United States, from 1834 to 1864; especially as to the origin of the Confederate States, volume 2. New York: Peter Smith, 1942.

    Don E. Fehrenbacher, Slavery, Law, and Politics: The Dred Scott Case in Historical Perspective. New York: Oxford University Press, 1981.

    Shelby Foote, The Civil War: A Narrative: Red River to Appomattox. New York: Vintage Books, 1986.

    General Services Administration, “Mobile Courthouse Groundbreaking,” March 25, 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQ9nxC01zeA

    Ronald M. Labbé and Jonathan Lurie, The Slaughterhouse Cases: Regulation, Reconstruction, and the Fourteenth Amendment. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2003.

    Charles Lane, The Day Freedom Died: The Colfax Massacre, The Supreme Court, and the Betrayal of Reconstruction. New York: Henry Holt, 2008.

    Charles McClain, California Carpetbagger: The Career of Henry Dibble, 28 QLR 885 (2009), Available at: http://scholarship.law.berkeley.edu/facpubs/660.

    Russell McClintock, Lincoln and the Decision for War. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2008.

    Robert E. May, John A. Quitman: Old South Crusader. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1985.

    ____________, Manifest Destiny’s Underworld: Filibustering in Antebellum America. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2002.

    Justin A. Nystrom, New Orleans after the Civil War: Race, Politics, and a New Birth of Freedom. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010.

    William H. Rehnquist, The Supreme Court: How it Was, How it is. New York: William Morrow, 1987.

    Michael A. Ross, Justice of Shattered Dreams: Samuel Freeman Miller and the Supreme Court During the Civil War Era. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 2003.

    ­­­­­­­______________, “Obstructing reconstruction: John Archibald Campbell and the legal campaign against Louisiana’s Reconstruction Government,” Civil War History, September 2003, pp. 235-53.

    Robert Saunders, Jr., John Archibald Campbell, Southern Moderate, 1811-1889. Tuscaloosa, The University of Alabama Press, 1997.

    Steven Spielberg (dir.), Lincoln. Dreamworks Pictures, 2013.

    Walter Stahr, Seward: Lincoln’s Indispensable Man. New York: Simon and Schuster, 2012.

    Eric H. Walther, The Fire-Eaters. Louisiana State University Press, 1992.

    “Ward Hunt,” https://www.oyez.org/justices/ward_hunt

    Robert Penn Warren, Jefferson Davis Gets His Citizenship Back. University Press of Kentucky, 1980.

    Ruth Ann Whiteside, “Justice Joseph Bradley and the Reconstruction Amendments,” PhD Thesis, Rice University, 1981.

    Edward Needles Wright, Conscientious Objectors in the Civil War. New York: Perpetua, 1961.