Salient. Victoria University Student Newspaper. Volume 33 No. 15 1970

Conspiracy — Judge Hoffman and the Contempt of the Conspiracy 9

Conspiracy

Judge Hoffman and the Contempt of the Conspiracy 9

"When the pig runs, we run; when the pig fights, we fight; when the pig crawls, we've won," barked out Tom Foran in his gravel voice. Tom Foran, the man without a neck, was summing up for the government, last turn at bat. The heavy. Everyone was on the edge of his seat—even friends of the Conspiracy—admiring how well, within the limits of his role, the arch enemy was doing, quoting various speeches with a perfect DA sneer.

"Don't be fooled by the fact these guys call each other by first names, as if they were kids! They aren't kids, they're highly sophisticated, evil men!"

Afterwards, in the bathroom, "He sounds pretty good reading our lines, maybe we should recruit him."

"Yeah," answered Rennie Davis. "Tiny Tom would make a great leftie. You know people have been talking about making a play out of this trial, but I don't think they'd ever be able to find people to play these parts. The real actors play them to perfection."

Back in court, Foran ends his speech. Jerry Rubin, it turns out, is a predator. He works best at night. All seven of the defendants are "profligate extremists" and they're out to get your children.

Look out, Tiny Tom, the movement eats rocks and bottles for lunch.

Photo of a police officer hitting protestors with a batton

Earlier, Kunstler had referred to the Salem witchcraft trials. Foran leapt to his feet to object. Judge Hoffman thought a moment, then ruled, "I see no relationship to the Salem witch trials—I don't think it's comparable—I sustain the objection!"

But Kunstler went over the head of the judge, bringing up John Peter Zenger, Jesus Christ, Socrates, John Brown, Nathan Hale, Che Guevara, Eugene Debs, John F. Kennedy, and Martin Luther King. He told the jury that they should act like a computer in weighing the evidence and should not let their likes and dislikes interfere with their verdict.

Foran hit hard on that: "You know," he started, "There's a difference between having intelligence and being an intellectual." Right on, silent majority! "You're not computers, you're human beings. But among you, there's nearly four hundred years of intelligence." Hard to believe. Most jurors had sat through the trial half asleep. But perhaps that was the impact of the case on four hundred years of intelligence.

Kunstler was maudlin in finishing, "If you return a not guilty verdict in this case, perhaps Allen Ginsberg will never write poetry again saying 'I have seen the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness.' Perhaps Judy Collins will never have to appear in a court of law again and say 'when will they ever learn?'"

Foran was more direct. "Do your duty!" he commanded the jurors.

After court Jerry Rubin seemed manic. "These have been the best thirty days of my life. Did you see what we did last week, when the judge revoked Dellinger's bail? We called him every name in the book."

The next day the judge instructed the jury. It took about two and a half hours. He again read the indictment like he was reading the Gettysburg address. When he said, "It is further alleged that ...." it was pretty clear that Julius Hoffman was doing the alleging.

As he read each instruction, his head, described by Al Rosenfeld of the Seed as "an overripe casaba melon perched on a heap of judicial laundry," would bounce up and down like a bobbing head doll of a baseball star. Now go out and return your verdict of "guilty".

The jury Goes Out. It is the trial's Big Moment. What Will Their Verdict be?

It doesn't matter. Julius Hoffman can't have anyone else, including the jury, be more important than he is for even a moment. Immediately after the jury goes out he pulls his big surprise. "I have another matter to deal with today. You will remember that throughout the course of the trial...."

The only alternative is anarchy," Julius explains as he begins to read of Dellinger's list of comtempts. It is impressive, going to thirty-three, more than twice as much as Bobby Seale.

He won't read out the word "bullshit" that Dellinger had hurled and had his bail revoked over. "There's no necessity for my repeating what the press has referred to as a 'barnyard vulgarity'."

Tony Lukas of the New York Times, whose editor had refused to print the word and used "barnyard vulgarity" instead, is embarrassed.

The defendants, thinking they would never walk out the main door of the courtroom again, were shocked. 'There'll be a press conference downstairs,' calls out Bob Lamb of the Conspiracy staff. "No!" yelled out Abbie. "The press conference will be at the airport!"

Everyone was in shock. Most people hadn't expected the comtempt to be handed out until after the jury had come back. Thirty-three counts on Dellinger was more than twice as much as Seale had gotten. Was he to be given eight years on contempt alone?

After lunch, Hoffman gives David Dellinger a chance to say a few words before reading out his sentence.

"If you had any sense at all, you'd realize that record you just read condemns you, not us.

"We're supposed to act like good Germans, ignoring the war in Vietnam. When we wouldn't and were brought into court, we were supposed to act like good Jews, and quietly go to the ovens. Well we won't!"

Dellinger's oldest daughter, Tasha, began to applaud. Suddenly a marshal went after her to try to remove her. People close by said the marshal grabbed her and she started to kick loose. More marshals and more Conspiracy people rushed into the melee. People were crying, some were screaming.

Frank Joyce, of the conspiracy staff, rushed through the double doors of the courtroom and literally flew into the melee. Meanwhile a woman marshal had Tasha on the ground and was pummeling her. Sue Shultz, Rennie's girlfriend, pulled the marshal's hair.

Tasha, Frank and Sue were all carried out of the courtroom. A reporter outside said the marshals had broken their momentum by braking with Frank Joyce's head on the opposite wall.

William Kunstler was up in front at the lectern, tears streaming down his face, pleading with the impassive judge. "Look what you've done, this is all your doing. Please, don't make me wait. Sentence me now. You've destroyed my life."

Jerry and Abbie got up and shouted "seig heil!"

Then there was silence. Finally the judge began to read off the sentence. It totalled more than twenty-nine months.

"You've just jailed one of the best men in America," Rennie Davis yelled.

"We'll get you next," the judge assured him.

The judge read out the twenty-three counts of contempt Davis had piled up. Included was the arrest of Bobby Seale's birthday cake, and his activity when Seale was bound and gagged.

When it was Rennie's turn to speak he told how he felt seeing Seale in chains for trying to defend himself.

"Oh, you remember what he called me," the judge interrupted.

"He called you a racist, a fascist and a pig," stated Rennie, matter of factly.

"Several times," emphasized the judge.

"Many times—but not enough."

The judge had the marshal seat Rennie, and the judge sent him to prison for two years and two months.

Then there were only five left at the defense table.

Hayden came next. Polite on the surface, seething underneath. He was apologetic in order not to be cut short.

At one point Hayden referred to the futility of the punishment, how jailing some people only created new revolutionaries. "You have seen how the younger Dellinger defied you even as the elder Dellinger was taken to jail."

"If you call Dellinger 'the elder', what do you call me?"

"I call you 'your honor'."

Underneath the calm, though, was a deep emotion, hidden for the purpose of tactfully getting into the record part of the machinations which the Justice Department had contrived to win this trial.

Hayden told an incredible tale of how Ramsey Clark was followed, watched, cajoled, and harassed by Justice Department agents, even in the courtroom itself, all with the purpose of preventing him from testifying. Dick Schultz, the whining assistant prosecutor, even reminded the former Attorney General that it would be a breach of "ethics".

"You can see why we feel like we're all characters in the movie 'Z'." he stated.

Hayden told the judge that the defendants had no faith at all in the U.S. judicial system, especially considering who was in the Justice Department and who was being appointed to the Supreme Court.

"A man of your intelligence could do extremely well in this system," the judge advised.

"We don't want a place in the business, Julie," Abbie broke in.

Finally the judge admonished Hayden to get to punishment.

"There's only one thing about punishment that disturbs me," said Hayden. Then eyes down on the table, "I'd like to have a child."

Hayden's eyes were red. Silence in the courtroom. Some shock. Finally, Julius Hoffman broke in, "I'm afraid that's where the federal system can do you no good."

"The federal system can do you no good in trying to prevent the birth of a new world."

Hayden's sentence was read, 14 months. He then walked to the lockup before the marshals could reach him.

Four were left, plus the two lawyers.

Abbie Hoffman's turn was next. Several times the courtroom broke up as the judge read from the record yiddish insults Abbie had hurled at him. "Stunk. WoDen, a shanda fur da goyim!"

When it came Abbie's turn to speak, he was direct, a contrast to Hayden.

"You keep saying we should give you respects because this is one of the highest courts in the land. Yet, when I was on the witness stand, Mr Shultz asked me 'what was I wondering?' when I was looking at a building.

"I asked him if that meant 'what was I dreaming?' he said 'yes'.

"I've never been tried for my dreams before, how can I have respect for the highest court in the land when it puts me on trial for my dreams?"

During Abbie's statement, marshals kept advancing on him, as if to seat him. "Relax," Abbie would command, and they would move back.

The judge pronounced a suprisingly light sentence of eight months.

As the marshals led him away, he reminded his wife, Anita, "Don't forget to water the plant."

Then the judge announced the court would be recessed until ten o'clock the next morning.

"Wait, what about us, you can't do that," yelled Jerry Rubin. "Sentence us now, I don't want to be out while my brothers are in jail."

"Oh, you wouldn't ask favours of a man you've compared to Hitler."

"If I were being sentenced in Nazi Germany, I'd ask the favour of getting it over with."

That night was sad. Four in, three plus the lawyers out. At first those who were out wanted to go to Los Angeles and back to speak at a rally, but they didn't have time. So they stayed in Chicago.

John Froines, almost in tears, explained at 11p.m. how badly he felt being out of jail. He couldn't stand it, kept walking around the block, looking at things, saying goodbye.

Sunday morning, John Froines brought a toothbrush and a bottle of scotch with him to the courtroom. The bottle was taken from him by three marshals.

Jerry was first and defiant as the judge read off his fifteen counts. He got six month sentences for calling Hoffman a fascist and for calling him Hitler.

"I refused in this court to stand up and say 'Heil Hitler' when a black man was gagged and chained.

"In Nazi Germany everything that happened was legal. In the courts judges wore robes, and spoke of the sanctity the law.

"We're going to jail with smiles on our faces because we know that outside there are ten million people who will eventually set us free."

But when he and Nancy embraced, she was crying, and Jerry too.

"Sadist" he cried at the judge as the marshals led him through the one-way door.

Two years, two left.

Lee Weiner: "I've sat here quietly for the most part as I've seen you abuse and bury the childlike notions I'd held that in the courts of America justice is somehow obtainable.

"I've sat in a quiet rage as I've seen the best men in America belittled and attacked in small and great ways.

"I went to Northwestern University. In the law school, there is a plaque outside one of the rooms, dedicating it to you. Judge Hoffman."

"Thank you for bringing that up in front of all these people," beamed Julius.

Weiner shook his head "no". "I tell it to you for an evil reason. The plaque has been ripped off the wall. After the trial is over, you better not show up to lecture at Northwestern, because you will be mobbed."

Weiner finished. "I've had my doubts, before the trial began, but this trial has made me confident. I'm confident now that my three year old child will make the revolution that we've started. Thank you for that."

Weiner got two and a half months. Now only Froines was left of the defendants.

The judge read out Froines' contempt; then without letting him speak, and without sentencing him, went on to Kunstler. Julius the Just look anxious. He made a slip, the blood in his eye showed.

Finally, when reminded by the clerk, Hoffman let Froines speak.

"I guess it's part of being a media unknown that even the judge forgets you," said Froines.

He referred to the defendants, the people on the staff, and the spectators who constantly waited all night in the Chicago midwinter cold to get into the trial as the real heroes, the people who would ultimately decide the fate of the Conspiracy and the Amerikan government. The judge interrupted and delivered a lecture on how fine the federal courts were.

"You've availed yourself of the opportunity to come in here and have your case heard."

"No, I think you've got it backwards judge, we were forced to be here."

"I know that some of you would want us to not force criminals to come here. If that happened, I'm afraid all the courts and prisons in the country would be burned down."

"Right on!" chimed the spectators.

Finally Froines broke into the judge's monologue, "As much as I appreciate the chance to listen to you, I'd like to go join my friends now."

And Froines was sentenced to six and a half months, leaving only the lawyers, Bill Kunstler and Lenny Weinglass at the defense table. It took over an hour for the judge to read out the twenty-four specifications of contempt he charged Kunstler with, mostly for the heinous crime of disagreeing with him or pointing out inconsistency in treatment.

Kunstler spoke to his sentence. In twenty-two years of practice, he'd never been sentenced for contempt even in the most racist courts in the South. He hoped the sentence meted him would not deter young lawyers from vigorously defending the pariah cases of the black, the oppressed, the radical and the young. He wasn't ashamed of what he had done in the case.

"I have tried with all my heart to represent my clients in the face of what I considered and still consider to be unjust treatment. I may not be the best lawyer in America, but I, and my colleague, Leonard Weinglass, are the most privileged, for we are being punished for fighting for what we believe in.

"I only ask that I be allowed to receive my sentence standing, as I have for the better part of the last five months, at this lectern.

'I have only compassion for you. All else has now fallen away."

And Kunstler got four years.

Lenny Weinglass was at the end.

And, after five months of absurdity, it all ended on an anti-climatic bad joke.

"If you people had only a modicum of respect for me, this all would never have happened," the judge said, with an air of finality.

Weinglass answered, "How can you speak of respect? You still can't pronouce my name right after five months!"

"Oh, I can explain that. I get your name confused with that of a friend of mine, a Mr Weinrus. I don't have any friends named Weintraub."

The conspiracy: Rennie Davis, Dave Dellinger, Jerry Rubin, Lee Weiner, Abbie Hoffman, Tom Hayden, William Kunstler, Bobby Seale, John R. Froines.

The conspiracy: Rennie Davis, Dave Dellinger, Jerry Rubin, Lee Weiner, Abbie Hoffman, Tom Hayden, William Kunstler, Bobby Seale, John R. Froines.

[ unclear: Leonard weinglass,] Rennie Davis, Abbie Hoffman, Lee Weiner, David [ unclear: Dellinger], John Froines, Jerry Rubin, Tom Hayden, William Kunstler

One of the Biggest and Most Bizarre Criminal Trials in American History

But this is just as much of a rationalisation, an idealisation of sex as the belief that there is no satisfaction without the simultaneous O. You could compare the sharing of sex to the sharing of another art, music. Suppose two musicians, used to performing together, and married to each other, found that one of them was becoming crippled or deaf; would you immediately assume that the marriage would come to an end? Not unless there had been nothing shared but the ability to play together. I'd be prepared to bet that if you could question the protagonists of lasting and reasonably happy marriages as to the importance of the sexual factor, you'd find that it was only one of several ingredients of success. Liking your marriage partner can be as vital as being in love.

If we believe that we are all entitled to super quality sex all or most of the time, we are making the usual democratic mistake of thinking we're all equal. For Orwell's sake, let's face it, we are not. We're not all equally good at everything; no amount of training or education is going to make all of us Olympic runners, nuclear physicists, creative artists. Not all of us are even equally good at the simpler tasks of living; some of us are going to be more and some less active sexually. It's also partly a question of time. Sex is one of the activities on which we have to decide to spend more or less of our limited time and libido. It's probably desirable that the two partners of a couple should make roughly the same allocation, but even this isn't an absolute sine qua non of success.

I don't want to undervalue the sexual orgasm. I think it's marvellous, irreplaceable, unique. But I feel like quoting a sentence from Aldington, which was quoted in turn in a review of new films which I happened to read while I was writing this article. "A man or a woman might die for love and be glad in the dying, but who would die for sex? If one would, what's wrong with masturbation? Isn't the whole point of really good sex that there is another person there? If you are fond of him, that's fine. If you're in love with him, that's good. If you love him, then it's splendid, so splendid that even the terrific sex is less important than the loving. Simultaneous orgasms? Fun, clever, very pleasurable—as a psychoanalyst I once knew used to say—but not a test of bloody anything.

Furthermore I defy much of the modern teaching by saying that I don't think even the female orgasm is absolutely necessary every time. It's uncomfortable and frustrating to reach the nearly-but-not-quite stage and no further; but there's a great deal of love-making which doesn't get as far as that for one or other partner, sometimes for both, and which is tender and loving and tells each what the other wants to convey.

If we have to have a criterion for maturity, which God forbid we should rigidly believe in, I'd rather it was that each of us should be able to judge how we are feeling and what is right for us now, rather than we should measure ourselves against an external level of performance, like the unfortunate women who still believe that unless they have achieved a vaginal orgasm they don't know what a "mature" sexual experience is like. This is nonsense, this is sex in the head. I still believe the whole process is governed by more than the head, and that most of the satisfactions came from somewhere rather nearer the heart.