Monday, Apr. 30, 1928
Old Oil
Houdini is dead, but Lawyer Martin W. Littleton is still alive, very. Lawyer Littleton is the man who last week extricated Harry Ford Sinclair from the oil scandal.
There was always a trick in Houdini's more startling performances, something like a false bottom or a split ring. It seemed perfectly legitimate, because the public goes to see a contortionist to be amusingly deceived. There was a trick in the Littleton release of Sinclair, too, only when the verdict was announced, the public did not seem amused.
Prosecution. What the Government had to prove was that Oilman Sinclair had conspired with Albert Bacon Fall, Secretary of the Interior in the Harding Cabinet, to lease the Teapot Dome oil reserve fraudulently in 1922. The Government proceeded to show that Fall avoided other bids for the lease until after Sinclair's lease was secretly signed; that Sinclair later gave Fall $304,000 in cash and Liberty Bonds, $233,000 being for a one-third interest in Fall's ranch, for which Sinclair never took a receipt. The Government was prepared to show that the Fall ranch was worth only $70,000 by its owner's sworn statement. But the Government thought best to withhold this evidence until its rebuttal. There were other matters which the Government would have liked to introduce but could not, notably the U. S. Supreme Court's unanimous verdict in a civil suit, that Sinclair's lease was "shot through with corruption," and that Fall was "a faithless public officer." Lawyers Atlee Pomerene and Owen J. Roberts banged home the first part of their case, then rested until the defense should develop things further.
Defense. It would suffice, the defense knew, if it could introduce "a shadow of a doubt" in the jurors' minds. Chasing this shadow, Sinclair's lawyers had visited Fall in El Paso, Tex., and brought back an elaborate deposition of his side of the case. Fall was ill and temporarily excused as a defendant. He had never testified before on this case, and his testimony as a defense witness was expected to contain strong points.
Here came Lawyer Littleton's trick. The defense dropped the Fall deposition unexpectedly, abruptly, and terminated its case without giving the Government the openings it had counted on. The effect was the same as Sinclair's last trial, which was halted and called off before all the evidence was in, when it was found that Sinclair was sleuthing his jury. This time it was not a mistrial, however. Except for summing up, this trial was over.
The defense case was thus rested almost entirely upon the testimony of Captain John K. Robison, U. S. N. retired. Robison stated that he, as chief of the Navy's Bureau of Engineering in 1921 had made the suggestion which led Secretary of the Navy Denby to have President Harding transfer Teapot Dome to the Interior Department. It was his idea and Secretary Denby's he said, to have Fall lease the oil reserve to some company which would build tanks, and store oil for the Navy. Also, there would be royalties. Secrecy was urged because in 1921, the Navy Department had a "scare" about war with Japan.
The Judge. Short shrift to irrelevancies and oily oratory featured Justice Jennings Bailey's conduct of the trial. Persons who believed Sinclair was guilty, predicted short shrift for Sinclair, because brisk, efficient Justice Bailey had examined the talesmen himself, and locked up the jury.
In charging the jury, Justice Bailey was careful to indicate the difference between bribery, for which Sinclair was not indicted, and conspiracy, which must be proved absolutely and not deduced from a preponderance of evidence.
The Jury. The three grocers, steamfitter, repair man, auto salesman, two clerks, merchant, expressman, broker and railroad agent who sat in judgment on Oilman Sinclair stayed out of the courtroom less than two hours. After they had said "not guilty" and been dismissed they told incredulous newsgatherers:
That not one vote for "guilty" was cast.
That in the light of the Government's unpresented evidence of which the newsgatherers told them they "might have felt differently."
That though all could and did read newspapers, the jurors had not heard of the supreme court's condemnation of the Sinclair lease and of Secretary Fall.
That a more telling argument than any had been Lawyer Littleton's to the effect that a man like Sinclair, if he were going in for a conspiracy, would not have stopped at the trifling cost of $304,000; and Fall, if he were selling Teapot Dome, could easily have gotten more than a quartermillion.
Juror Kenneth Carter summarized his belief in Sinclair's innocence as follows:
"I don't believe Sinclair was guilty of the charge. I don't believe he agreed to pay Fall anything before he got the lease. It may be that after Sinclair did get the lease, Fall got some money from him by the argument that he had favored Sinclair with the lease."
The Scene. In his last harangue to the jury, Lawyer Littleton quoted Shakespeare on the subject of "a good name" until he even made Oilman Sinclair snuffle and dab his eyes. Sinclair grasped Lawyer Littleton's plump hand when he sat down. Sinclair's wife and mother sobbed softly. When the jury returned from its deliberations, Sinclair stood up. Littleton remained seated. The Sinclair ladies had withdrawn to a corridor.
When the jury-foreman mumbled two words instead of one, Sinclair's strained face burst into a grin. He pumped his counsel's arms.
The Government lawyers looked dumfounded. The courtroom crowd was silent except for some one who said something about "millionaires."
Comment. Afterwards, everyone connected with the defense said they were "gratified," and they hastened to add "not surprised."
Lawyer Littleton said: "Let persecution cease."
Senator Nye said: "This is emphatic evidence that you can't convict a million dollars in the U. S. under the order that now prevails. The Supreme Court has got the number of this whole gang, and in the minds of the American people, Sinclair stands convicted."
Senator Borah said: "I guess I'll have to look over the Supreme Court decision again."
Sequalae. The end of Teapot Dome was not quite yet. Oilman Sinclair was still sentenced to a total of nine months in jail for contempt of the U. S. Senate and contempt of court. But public skepticism reached a pitch where his escape from these sentences was regarded as inevitable. Albert Bacon Fall continued under indictment for conspiracy, but Lawyer Roberts of the prosecution, badly outwitted in battle, sorely dispirited in defeat intimated that Fall would never come again to trial. The Senate, continuing its exploration of political aspects of Sinclair's oil career, called him again to testify, but no new suit against him was seen developing.