Bob Davis: Rubber Checks and Leotards

Two years after she caused a stir by publicizing a sexy private photo, Marty Davis—wife of Michigan congressman Bob Davis—was in the news again. This time, she was supporting a controversial measure to give members of Congress a 15.6 percent pay raise.

At the start of the congressional session in January 1987, members were receiving a cost of living salary increase from $75,100 a year to $77,400. It was not an insubstantial amount of money; according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, this salary would have the same buying power as $171,796 in present day - on par with the current base salary of $174,000 in today's Congress.

Under a proposal by President Ronald Reagan, however, the congressional salary would automatically increase to $89,500 per year unless the raise was voted down by both the House of Representatives and the Senate. This annual salary would have the same buying power as nearly $200,000 a year today.

Not surprisingly, many citizens were outraged by the proposal. Countless people would have considered the congressional salary to be more than adequate, and the idea of budgeting millions of dollars more to congressmen's paychecks was particularly contentious since it came in the midst of federal deficits and domestic budget cuts.

Many members of Congress agreed that the generous raise proposed by Reagan was unnecessary. Representative Virginia Smith, a Nebraska Republican, not only wanted to block the raise, but also the minor bump in pay members had received at the start of the session. "We can get by on $75,100 a year, and overwhelmingly the people back home in my district expect us to," she said. "For Nebraskans, times are harsh."

Smith's comment and proposal prompted Marty Davis to respond with a letter to the editor, which appeared in the Washington Post. "Seventy-five thousand dollars may blow people away in Nebraska," the letter read in part, "but in Washington, it is pin money."

Plenty of residents in Bob Davis's district were blown away by a $75,000 salary as well, and they weren't too pleased with Marty's comments. After all, the median price for a house in the northern Michigan region the congressman represented was only $31,000. Some constituents criticized her objection to the congressional salary as being out of touch. A duo from the town of Iron Mountain started a tongue-in-cheek charitable collection called Moola for Marty, urging their fellow "Yoopers" to send $1 checks to the congressman's wife to support her lifestyle.

Marty sent a lengthy followup letter to the Washington Post, admitting that it had been hyperbolic to dismiss the congressional salary as "pin money" but maintaining that the income was modest when all factors were considered. She said many congressmen were struggling to maintain two homes—one in their district, and one in the nation's capital—alongside car payments and other expenses.

Marty also suggested that politicians bore a disproportionate amount of the public's ire whenever people rose objections to salaries they considered exorbitant. "There's no great hue and cry over Washington Bullets star Moses Malone's hefty $2 million-plus salary for dribbling and shooting," she said. "But politicians, responsible for the laws of the land, are reviled for wanting a piece of the American dream - a few extra bucks to keep up with the cost of living."

Ironically, Bob Davis himself was not in favor of the pay raise for Congress. An aide to the congressman said Davis hadn't supported any such raises since he was first elected to the House of Representatives, and he didn't intend to start now. He also said that Davis was supportive of his wife, since he wasn't surprised that "two intelligent people might reach different conclusions" on the matter. The raise would ultimately go through in a rather farcical manner, after the House voted to reject it but only after missing the deadline by one day, thus causing the boost in pay to take place automatically.

The controversy over congressional salaries and Marty's remarks would mark something of a watershed moment in Davis's life. By the end of the year, the marriage to his outspoken wife would be faltering. A few years later, he would be named as one of the top offenders in the abuse of a House financial system; he would claim that his actions had been driven, in part, by the challenge of paying expenses related to his divorce and job responsibilities.

Early life and politics

Robert William Davis was born in Marquette, Michigan, on July 31, 1932. After graduating from Lasalle High School in St. Ignace in 1950, he went on to attend Northern Michigan University and Hillsdale College. In 1954, he earned a degree in mortuary science from Wayne State University.

Four years earlier, Davis's father had left his job at a funeral home to start his own. Davis joined him in the family business, running the Davis Funeral Home in St. Ignace from 1954 to 1966. For a time, he also owned a greenhouse and flower shop.

Davis's political career began in 1964, when he was elected to the city council of St. Ignace. He served as a Michigan state representative from 1966 to 1970, then as the majority whip of the state senate from 1970 to 1974. Between 1974 and 1978, he was the Republican leader in the state senate.

In 1978, Davis left state politics to run for the House of Representatives. He was elected to Michigan's 11th District, which at 22,000 square miles was one of the largest in the country. In addition to the entire Upper Peninsula, the district sprawled over much of the northern part of the state's Lower Peninsula, reaching as far as the suburbs of Detroit. Although he had spent much of his early life in St. Ignace, Davis would live in the more southern community of Gaylord for most of his time in Congress.

Davis with President Ronald Reagan in 1988 (Source)

A moderate conservative in his views, Davis would do his most substantive work on the Armed Forces Committee and the Merchant Marine and Fisheries Committee. The latter was considered particularly appropriate, since the 11th District bordered three of the five Great Lakes. During his time in office, he helped establish the Thunder Bay National Marine Sanctuary and Keweenaw National Historical Park. He worked to bring an addition to the Hammond Bay Biological Laboratory near Cheboygan to improve national research into sea lamprey control. He also successfully pushed back against efforts to decommission the Coast Guard cutter Mackinaw, arguing that it would impede icebreaking on the Great Lakes, and helped bring the service's buoy tender Acacia to Charlevoix.

Davis also secured funding and support for a variety of public improvements in his district, including roads, hospitals, libraries, and senior housing. In 1968, he joined with Governor George Romney to lower tolls on the Mackinac Bridge, which connects the Upper and Lower Peninsulas. This effort cut the toll from $7.50 for a round trip to $1.50 each way, quickly leading to a 22 percent boost in travel on the bridge.

He maintained nine offices throughout the vast district with a team of staffers to respond to constituent concerns. In a 1992 interview, he said he tried to help anyone who asked for assistance. "I've had people from Manistique call and tell me that their driveway wasn't plowed. We never turned down any [request for help]," he said. "We didn't always solve it, but no matter how small it was, we didn't turn it down."

This work made Davis a popular figure throughout much of Michigan. He easily won re-election in 1980 and the subsequent five House contests.

The black leotard

Davis married Marty, his third wife, in 1976. Marty was a former television and radio anchor, and worked as a freelance journalist in Washington, D.C. after Davis began serving in the House. In February 1985, she was outraged to read a letter in the magazine Washington Dossier which expressed surprise at the attractiveness of a congressman's wife. The implication, she felt, was that congressional wives were generally regarded as dowdy, stay-at-home types.

Marty fired off a letter to Dossier, Marty protesting that not all women married to congressmen were "cloying Barbie dolls swathed in Ultrasuede" or "stuck in a 1950s Donna Reed time warp." She said she was speaking for herself as well as "the business-oriented, career-oriented women in our ranks."

The letter likely would have attracted little notice had Marty not decided to back it up with a revealing photograph, with which she hoped to dispel the notion that an attractive, aspirational congressional wife was out of the ordinary. In the photo, Marty is bending over and shooting the camera an alluring look while wearing a cutaway black exercise leotard and high heels. She had originally taken the photo for her husband, to show off how she had lost 62 pounds after giving birth to their daughter.

(Source)

The photo was quickly picked up and distributed in media outlets beyond Dossier. In an interview with the Washington Post, she marveled at the "completely overblown" coverage of the image and her letter. She said her husband had invited her to attend the State of the Union address, but she was worried she would upstage the President if she showed up. She turned down offers to appear on a number of TV shows, including Today and Good Morning America, saying she didn't want to "be fodder for the early morning news vulture."

At the same time, Marty was happy to use interviews on the subject to explain why she decided to send the photo to Dossier. It was clear that she had a good deal of pent-up annoyance over how congressional wives were treated in the nation's capital. More often than not, she complained, they were regarded as an extension of their husbands instead of individuals. She was disgusted by how frequently lobbyists called her "honey" or "sweetheart."

Yet her letter to Dossier had also been a way to combat perceptions that women married to congressmen weren't physically attractive. Men had frequently commented that she didn't "look like a congressman's wife." In her interview with the Washington Post, she commented, "Just because she's married to a congressman, she doesn't have to look like a toad. She's not a dog with no brains."

Marty said several congressional wives expressed their support and thanked her for changing the way people looked at them. Arlene Crane, wife of Republican Representative Philip Crane of Illinois, figured the photo had been meant as something of a joke. "If that's the case, she exhibited what has sustained me for the past 15 years in Washington, and that is a sense of humor," she said.

Other wives weren't laughing. Sally Dornan, who was married to Republican Representative Robert K. Dornan of California, thought Marty was simply trying to get attention and possibly trying to break into show business. Indeed, some of the people contacting her were Hollywood agents, and there was talk of making Marty the host of a women's talk show. "I exercise in a leotard, but I don't invite photographers in," said Sally. "She is certainly not speaking for me or many other wives I know."

There was even some speculation that Marty's risqué photo would erode support for her husband in Michigan. Dick Storm, a radio reporter with WHUH in Houghton, said, "We have a conservative population in the district, a lot of senior citizens and Apostolic Lutherans, and they're just not going to go for it." But a newspaper editor in the same town, Rick Fromm, said both Davis and Marty were well-liked in the district and the incident likely wouldn't have any effect. "I think most people, contrary to popular opinion, might think 'more power to her,'" he said. "She wanted to make a point and I think she made it very well."

Davis himself stood by his wife. He claimed that he had simply had a good chuckle when he found out about the image, and had suffered nothing worse than some ribbing by his colleagues. He commented that Marty's actions showed that "congressional wives aren't what people think."

Divorce from Marty

Despite showing support for Marty after both the photo imbroglio and her controversial stance on congressional pay, Davis's relationship with his wife was starting to break down. The couple began taking intermittent separations from one another in 1987. Davis began dating a woman named Brook Ball on and off during these breaks.

In December 1988, Davis and Marty officially separated. Davis filed for divorce in March 1989. About a month later, Marty filed for financial support in Virginia. Soon after, Davis came under scrutiny for his relationship with Ball.

At the start of the year, Davis had gotten Ball a job helping to research and prepare reports for the minority members of the Merchant Marine and Fisheries Committee. She had no prior experience with maritime matters, having formerly worked as division secretary for the Air Force office at the Pentagon. Her new position on the committee came with a $28,000 salary, $6,000 more than she had previously been making. Soon after Ball started the job, Davis moved in with her. At 28 years old, she was exactly half his age.

When news of this arrangement broke, Davis insisted he had done nothing wrong. He and Ball had first checked with the Ethics Committee to make sure there wouldn't be any issues with the hire and their subsequent cohabitation. He noted how they had used similar caution when Ball accompanied him on a business trip through Europe in 1987; Davis's way had been paid by a company in his district, while Ball covered her own expenses.

Davis added that Ball was doing a capable job and was actually saving taxpayers money, since she drew the lowest pay on the committee. The average salary of a committee staff member was $30,000 higher. "I would have hired Brook for that position even if we hadn't been dating," she said. "But that's not what anyone in my position would say, and I don't expect many people to believe that." He didn't believe that the hiring issue would affect his popularity at home. "People base their opinions of me on how I do my job, and I do a good job...I made no mistake here," he maintained.

The issue also wound up making Davis's acrimonious divorce a more public affair. In the course of defending the hiring of his girlfriend, the congressman also accused Marty of bringing the issue to light in the first place. He said he had refused his ex-wife's demands for $4,000 a month in child support, and suspected that she had tipped off the Detroit Free Press about Ball's employment in hopes that the courts would order him to pay more alimony.

Marty denied this charge, but admitted that she had been in a tough spot financially since the divorce. In another interview with the Washington Post, she said she was "completely broke." She was living in Arlington with the five-year-old daughter she had had with Davis, and she was paying $3,068 a month for rent, a car lease, electricity, and her daughter's schooling. Between her limited earnings and considerable debts, she had been forced to apply for welfare; she was turned down because her income was $100 over the maximum limit.

Those who had been unsympathetic to Marty's complaints about congressional earnings a couple of years earlier may have been similarly unlikely to empathize with her current situation, given that her expenses included $1,900 a month for a three-bedroom apartment and tuition for private school. But she claimed that Davis was paying only $234 a week in child support, less than a third of what she said was necessary for her to get by. Davis's attorney called her estimates "unfair" and "untrue," saying Davis had been paying her rent for a few months in addition to the weekly child support.

A Michigan court set Davis's alimony payments at $2,000 a month, a sum he protested as too high. His own financial situation was not sound enough that he could sustain this kind of regular contribution, he said. Marty, abandoning her old position about inadequate congressional pay, responded that her ex-husband made $91,500 a year and could comfortably afford to pay twice what they were asking. Davis argued that his actual income was closer to $67,000 after taxes. The court ultimately made only a modest increase in Davis's alimony requirements, asking him to pay Marty $247 a week.

The general assessment held that the proceedings wouldn't hurt Davis's reputation too much, since he represented a larger and more rural district. "We're so spread out, we're so isolated, these kinds of things don't hit people the same way they do in a big city," said Bob Anderson, an attorney who ran unsuccessfully against Davis in the 1986 election.

In 1992, Davis married Ball. They would remain wed until Davis's death 17 years later.

Campaign funds

The complaints about congressional compensation raised by Marty at the start of the 1987 and Davis during the couple's divorce seemed to ring hollow after a July 1990 press investigation. Since 1978, Davis's campaign efforts had collected $1.6 million and spent $1.52 million. Over the course of these bids, $225,000 in campaign money had gone toward Davis's personal expenses.

This kind of remuneration was not prohibited under federal law. The Federal Election Commission would only investigate campaign funds used for personal expenses if there was a complaint. But the receipts did show that Davis had not been as hard up for cash as previously indicated. He often wrote out multiple checks on the same day, including one to Marty for $4,800 in 1984 and two $500 payments to his son, Bob Jr. The largest single check sent to his personal bank account from campaign funds, $7,721.28 on December 1, 1988, was for "travel, meals and lodging."

Davis hadn't reported these payments as income. He said there was no need to, since the checks were reimbursement for the considerable expenses he incurred in covering his sizable district. He also defended the use of $103,000 in campaign funds in non-election years. "Everything a congressman does is related to being re-elected," he said. Davis also added, "I campaign all the time. I don't wait to the last minute to campaign. I campaign 12 months a a year. I work at it all the time."

A loophole in the federal election laws also allowed congressmen to pocket any leftover campaign funds if they left office before 1993. Davis assured a reporter that he wouldn't be taking advantage of this potential windfall. "Bob Davis will be here long after that time," he said. "I don't intend to retire. Never."

Banking scandal

For more than 150 years, the House of Representatives had hosted a bank which was open only to a select group of members. These included congressmen, their spouses, House staffers, and journalists. During Davis's time in office, the House Bank was a fairly simple institution; it could cash checks for its members, but it didn't offer interest or grant loans. The Office of the Sergeant at Arms oversaw its operation.

On September 18, 1991, the General Accounting Office found that the House Bank had honored a whopping 8,331 bad checks in the year leading up to June 30, 1990. Two weeks after this revelation, the bank was closed and the Ethics Committee began a five-month investigation into the issue.

The committee found that the House Bank had developed the ill-advised practice of honoring checks even if they overdrew the balance in a member's account. The bank essentially considered the withdrawal to be an advance on their next deposit. The generous overdraft protection meant that members could abuse the system by having the bank honor thousands of dollars worth of bounced checks without seeing the slightest blemish on their credit.

In the 39 months between July 1, 1988 and October 3, 1991, nearly 20,000 bad checks had been written from House Bank accounts. Some had been six-figure sums. The investigation proceeded using account numbers instead of names, although there was plenty of debate over how many offenders should be exposed. The House Bank didn't have clear rules against overdrafts, and the Ethics Committee did not want to embarrass congressmen who may have only bounced one or two checks due to an honest mistake.

Jim Nussle (R-Iowa), briefly wore a paper bag when speaking before Congress about the House Bank scandal on Oct. 1, 1991. After removing the bag, he said it was time to expose the scandal and return honor to the institution. (Source)

The committee initially decided that it would spotlight members whose overdrafts were "routine, repeated and significant." Many congressmen had overdrawn their accounts to get money for their campaigns, but others had used them to acquire funding for business ventures or other potentially profitable actions. After much negotiation, they set up a rubric to identify the worst offenders. To qualify, a congressman would have had to overdraw their account by more than their net monthly pay in at least eight of the 39 months under review. These parameters would only lead to the exposure of the 24 worst offenders: 19 sitting congressmen and five former members.

There were complaints that this limited disclosure was inadequate, especially given the widespread abuse of the House Bank. Some pointed out that many of the most egregious offenders could still escape notice; some congressmen had written more than 800 bad checks, but hadn't overdrawn their accounts beyond their monthly salary. Republicans in particular were eager to press the issue, since Democrats represented the bulk of the offenders (in part because they outnumbered the GOP almost two-to-one in the House). These congressmen trumpeted the overdrafts as a sign of Democratic mismanagement of the bank as well as the House in general.

House Democrats eventually gave in to the pressure to name every member who had written at least one bad check on their House Bank account. A total of 325 members, including 269 still in the House, would be implicated; it was the largest ethics scandal in House history. On March 13, 1992, a unanimous House resolution agreed that every offender would be named.

One day after this vote, Davis flew home and held a town hall meeting. He confessed that he would not only be named in the forthcoming revelation, but that he would likely have one of the highest counts of bad checks; he had bounced more than 800 during the period in question. He said his overdrafts occurred during "the worst period in my financial life," when his finances were in turmoil as a result of his divorce. He also blamed his own "sloppy bookkeeping," "lax procedure" at the House Bank, and the expenses involved in traveling throughout the large district.

Davis said the overdrafts hadn't resulted in a loss of any taxpayer money, since any bad checks were buoyed up by deposits made from other congressmen and House Bank members. He also said that he had not broken any rules or laws since the bank was actually a "cooperative check-cashing fund" instead of a true financial institution. But he acknowledged that the revelation was likely to upset his constituents. "I realize the bottom line here is that congressmen got benefits that most Americans didn't and that was wrong," he said. "I offer my sincerest apologies to the people who I represent."

As the House began to publish the names of all offenders in the bank scandal, it emerged that Davis had written the third highest number of bad checks. Between July 1, 1988 and October 3, 1991, he had drawn 878 checks from the House Bank without sufficient funds in his account to cover them. He was overdrawn for 13 months of the 39-month period. The face value of the bad checks totaled more than $344,000, the sixth highest amount among all offenders.

Davis was one of only three of the 21 worst offenders who didn't report any unearned income during the period in question. In fact, his last financial discloser form named his home as his only personal asset. He also declared that he had debts to three lending institutions ranging from $35,000 to $115,000.

Davis's record not only opened him up for criticism from the Democrats, but also made him a target within his own party. The Republicans had hoped to capitalize on the banking scandal in the upcoming election, but soon found that many from their own ranks had also abused the House Bank. Democrats were particularly delighted to find that Minority Whip Newt Gingrich, who had been especially vocal in criticizing the Democrats over the issue, had collected $26,891 from 22 bad checks. A total of 117 of the offenders, or more than one in three, hailed from the GOP. Tommy F. Robinson, a former Republican congressman from Arkansas, had the highest tally of bad checks at 996.

A Newsweek poll suggested that voters would be unlikely to support the worst offenders in the House Bank scandal. In April, GOP national committeeman Chuck Yob wrote to Davis asking him to abandon any attempt for an eighth term.

On May 4, Davis announced that he would not run for re-election. He pointed out how a poll taken in the previous month had shown that he would likely win both the Republican primary for his seat as well as the general election. However, he figured he would only be able to win through a large fundraising effort and nonstop campaigning; he also assumed that any opponents in either race would use the banking scandal to launch an extremely negative campaign against him. "Ultimately, I decided that I was not interested in that kind of negativism," he said.

Inside Edition sting

In a strange coda to his political career, Davis found himself targeted by the tabloid TV show Inside Edition. With so many congressmen being forced from office, rumors were swirling that the representatives affected by the scandal were desperate to stay in Washington and would do anything to secure new employment there. Inside Edition sought to test whether retiring representatives would stoop to corrupt acts in exchange for a lucrative new job.

The show created a setup where they would have a person claim to be representing a nonexistent trade association, the National Association of Bolt Distributors. They would offer the departing congressman a $250,000 annual salary to head this group. All they asked in the meantime was their assistance in influencing pending government legislation related to the fasteners industry. A hidden camera would be rolling to see if the congressman took the bait.

Inside Edition tried to tempt both Davis and Representative Robin Tallon, a South Carolina Democrat who would be stepping down after his term expired in 1993. Tallon had bounced two checks from the House Bank, but this hadn't played a factor in his decision to retire from office. Redistricting had given his district a majority black population, and he had been pressured to step aside and allow a black candidate to run.

In September 1992, Inside Edition went ahead with the sting. John L. Jackley, a former Democratic press secretary who had published a book about congressional chicanery five months earlier, disguised himself as lobbyist "Donald Lee" and met with Davis at a D.C. restaurant. Jackley, writing about the encounter for his next book, described Davis as boorish, dismissive of his constituents, and eager to accept a corrupt quid pro quo.

"You could almost see the drool of greed begin to form at the edges of his mouth. We had offered him a fantastic job—great pay, benefits, travel, the whole works—and he was beside himself with desire," Jackley wrote. "For one of the largest congressional check-overdrafters in the House, it was unparalleled. Davis represented Michigan's Upper Peninsula, and he candidly told us that after fourteen years in Washington, there was damn little that interested him back home."

The setup unraveled after the maître d' appeared and delivered a note to Davis, warning that he was being videotaped. Some GOP wonks had noticed Inside Edition's poorly disguised camera inside a gift box and relayed the message. Unnerved, Davis soon left the meeting. Nevertheless, Jackley claimed that Davis left a voice mail the next morning saying he had "taken the initiative" to set up meetings with an attorney, Dan Quayle's Council on Competitiveness, and a regulator working on bolt regulations at the National Institute of Standards.

Tallon claimed that he abandoned his own meeting as soon as the proposal of influence peddling came up. Jackley said he thought Tallon was also interested in the offer, but did note that the congressman was more cautious. In checking out the references from the meeting, Tallon discovered that Inside Edition was behind the whole thing.

In February 1993, word of the botched sting hit the papers. Davis said he was considering legal action against the program, but he ultimately never sued.

Later life

The Republicans continued to hold up the "Rubbergate" scandal as a primarily Democratic infraction. President George H.W. Bush even brought up the issue, accusing the Democrats of being incapable of running "a tiny bank or a tiny post office." He told voters, "It is time for a new Congress. You give me the right lawmakers, and I'll give you the right laws."

But the Democrats were easily able to accuse Republicans of hypocrisy. Three former representatives who had gone on to join the Bush Cabinet were found to have overdrafts: Defense Secretary Dick Cheney, Labor Secretary Lynn Martin, and Secretary of Agriculture Edward Madigan. In the 1992 election, the Democrats lost only nine seats to the Republicans; they maintained a healthy majority in the House. Bush himself would lose the presidency to Democratic candidate Bill Clinton.

By one measure, however, the scandal would have a major impact on the House of Representatives. Davis was one of 77 congressmen implicated in the affair who either left office or were defeated in their primary or the general election. This meant more than one in four sitting representatives who overdrew their accounts were not returned to office.

Malcolm Wilkey, a retired federal appeals court judge, was named as special counsel to investigate the House Bank scandal. He determined that 20 sitting or former members may have committed crimes in the course of the scandal. A number of people—including the former Sergeant at Arms and several former congressmen, their family members, or staffers—were ultimately convicted of charges stemming from the investigation. In 1993, Davis was cleared of any criminal wrongdoing by the Justice Department.

Despite his reassurance to a reporter in 1990 that he did not plan to retire, Davis's early departure meant he would be able to benefit from the loophole in federal campaign laws after all. He pocketed $40,147 in leftover campaign funds before leaving office in January 1993.

A photo of Davis and wife Brook Ball Davis, posted on Brook's Facebook page about seven months before Davis's death. (Source)

Redistricting changed the 11th District considerably. It was reduced to a much smaller area around Detroit and stayed firmly Republican, with GOP candidate Joe Knollenberg taking the seat in the 1992 election. Much of the area formerly covered by Davis would now be covered by the 1st District. Republican candidate Phillip Ruppe, who had preceded Davis in office for 12 years, lost the race in this district to Democratic candidate Bart Stupak.

Davis stayed in the D.C. area after leaving Congress and kept out of the headlines. He began his own lobbying firm, and also worked for the international law firm K&L Gates. He opposed an ultimately successful proposal to set term limits for state officials in Michigan in 1992, saying he thought his long tenure in office had helped him build trust and serve his constituents more effectively. In 2002, an act of Congress named the St. Ignace post office for him.

After suffering from kidney failure and heart trouble, Davis died on October 16, 2009 in Arlington, Virginia. He was 77 years old.

Sources: Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, ""Congress Wives Not Toads, One Says - And Proves It" in the Los Angeles Times on Feb. 6 1985, "Marty Davis and the Pose That Was" in the Washington Post on Feb. 7 1985, "Marty Davis Has Other Congressional Wives Talking" in UPI on Feb. 7 1985, "Congressman's Wife Shatters the Stereotype" in the Boca Raton News on Feb. 7 1985, "Marty Davis Bends Over Forwards to Create a New Image for Housewives" in People on Feb. 25 1985, Photo Changes Life for Legislator's Wife" in the Detroit Free Press on Mar. 4 1985, "2 in GOP Try to Block Pay Raise for Congress" in the Washington Post on Jan. 7 1987, "Congressman, Wife Differ on Pay Increase" in the Detroit Free Press on Jan. 20 1987, "Pay Raise Splits State Legislators" in the Battle Creek Enquirer on Feb. 2 1987, "What $75,000 Won't Buy in Washington" in the Washington Post on Feb. 8 1987, "Financial Gun is At Our Heads" in the Battle Creek Enquirer on Feb. 10 1987, "Congressman, Wife Trade Barbs in Pending Divorce" in the Detroit Free Press on May 31 1989, "Turmoil in Congress: Congressman Defends Hiring of Companion" in the New York Times on Jun. 1 1989, "Congressman Is Target of Hiring Controversy" in the Journal of Commerce on Jun. 1 1989, "Friend's Hiring Throws Davis Into Ethics Fray" in the Detroit Free Press on Jun. 4 1989, "Welfare Woes of Hill Wife Marty Davis" in the Washington Post on Jun. 8 1989, "So Davis Hired Lover? Voters Aren't Objecting" in the Detroit Free Press on Jun. 8 1989, "Davis Got $225,000 In Election Funds" in the Green Bay Press-Gazette on Jul. 29 1990, "24 May Be Named in House Bank Case" in the New York Times on Mar. 7 1992, "Michigan Congressman Admits to 800-Plus Overdrafts" in UPI on Mar. 14 1992, "House Bank List an Index of Lives Out of Control" in the Los Angeles Times on Mar. 15 1992, "Davis Bounces $344,000 in Checks; Will Voters Bounce Him?" in the Detroit Free Press on Mar. 15 1992, "Foley Proposes Using Outsider to Run House Services" in the New York Times on Mar. 16 1992, "Third-Worst Congressional Check Bouncer Is Retiring" in UPI on May 4 1992, "Stop Filibustering and Take Out The Trash!" in Spy in October 1992, "Tabloid Show Aims at Ex-Lawmakers" in the Detroit Free Press on Feb. 19 1993, "Voters Enraged Over House Bank Abuses" in the 1992 CQ Almanac, "Former U.S. Rep Bob Davis Dies at 77" in the Oakland Press on Oct. 16 2009, "Former Congressman Bob Davis, 77" in the Washington Post on Oct. 19 2009, "Legislators Recall Davis' Lifetime of Public Service" in The St. Ignace News on Oct. 22 2009, Beyond the Hill: A Directory of Congress from 1984 to 1993. Where Have All the Members Gone? by Rebecca Borders and C.C. Dockery, Below the Beltway: Money, Power, and Sex in Bill Clinton's Washington by John L. Jackley

Truman H. Newberry: Senate for sale

(Source)

Given the enormous amounts of money used to shore up one candidate or another in every modern federal election cycle, the uproar over Truman Handy Newberry's financing of a 1918 campaign almost seems quaint. While the total expenditures admitted by Newberry were the equivalent of about $2.76 million in today's dollars, there were suspicions that the campaign had shelled out more than six times this amount. Even this upper limit would not seem out of place in today's elections, where the average cost of a Senate campaign is $10.5 million.

Yet in Newberry's time, a new electoral system in the Senate and a nascent effort at campaign finance reform made voters suspicious of anyone who poured too much money into an election. The Seventeenth Amendment had taken the power of appointing senators out of the state legislatures, which were considered more vulnerable to corruption, and placed it in the hands of the electorate at large. The amendment had only been in effect for five years at the time of Newberry's election, and even members of his own party were horrified by the frenzied spending of his campaign.

The Newberry affair was one of the earlier examples of a candidate being accused of trying to buy his way into elected office. The case would also lead to a Supreme Court ruling that obliterated the early Progressive efforts to keep money from having too great an influence in politics.

Newberry was part of a wealthy family, with several businessmen among his relatives who had profited from timber and mining enterprises. He was born in Michigan (in Detroit, on November 5, 1864), but much of Newberry's childhood would be spent outside of the state. After attending the Michigan Military Academy, he went on to the Charlier Institute in New York City and L.F. Reid's Classical School in Lakeville, Connecticut. He remained in Connecticut to attend Yale University, graduating in 1885.

Newberry became the superintendent of construction, paymaster, and general freight and passenger agent for the Detroit, Bay City, and Alpena Railway. He was soon promoted to manager of this railroad, holding the position until 1887. Following his father's death, Newberry took over the family business and became president and treasurer of the Detroit Steel and Spring Company. He remained here until 1901 and concurrently served as a director of several other businesses including the Union Trust Company, Union Elevator Company, and Michigan State Telephone Company.

In 1893, Newberry organized a naval militia in the state known as the Michigan State Naval Brigade. When the United States went to war with Spain five years later, Newberry was commissioned as a lieutenant and served aboard the cruiser Yosemite off Cuba.

Soon after his return from military service, Newberry became involved in the automotive business. He and his brother-in-law, Henry Joy, were walking through New York City when a Packard automobile caught their eye. They were impressed when the driver was able to quickly start the vehicle and race off to a fire. Newberry and Joy subsequently invested in the Packard Motor Car Company and oversaw its relocation to Detroit. Newberry began serving as director of the company in 1903.

Newberry's first foray into politics in 1904 would help lead to the creation of Michigan's campaign financing law. He sought the Republican nomination for a House of Representatives seat but lost to Edwin Denby, who spent three terms in Congress and later became Secretary of the Navy under President Warren G. Harding. Newberry spent a good deal of money in the race, and one publication would describe his conduct as "not illegal, although contrary to public morals." Michigan subsequently limited candidates from spending more than $3,750 of their own money on a campaign. The Federal Corrupt Practices Act, passed in 1910, would limit the funds a candidate could personally put toward a campaign to $5,000 in House races and $10,000 in Senate races.

Despite the 1904 loss, Newberry found himself in a government office within a year. He was appointed by President Theodore Roosevelt to be Assistant Secretary of the Navy, taking over for Charles H. Darling after his resignation at the end of October of 1905. When Secretary of the Navy Victor H. Metcalf resigned in November of 1908, Newberry moved into this post. Since Roosevelt was not opting for a third term, Newberry was only Secretary of the Navy for seven months. He spent this time working to reorganize the Navy bureaucracy and improve the ability of the land-based portion of the service to respond to emergencies.

In September of 1911, Newberry was involved in a tragic incident in Narragansett, Rhode Island. A young girl named Helen Ellis from Milton, Massachusetts, had nearly finished crossing the street when her mother warned her of an approaching car. For some reason, the girl turned back into the street and stepped directly into the path of Newberry's vehicle. He was unable to stop, and Ellis was killed instantly. Though Newberry was briefly charged with manslaughter, the court soon dismissed the matter. Ellis's father said he did not blame Newberry for his daughter's death and prosecutors concluded that he was not criminally responsible in the accident.

When Republican campaigners tapped Newberry to run for political office in 1918, he said he would be willing to run for any position they thought he was suited for. In addition to the biennial House of Representatives race, Michigan voters would also choose a new U.S. senator to replace William A. Smith, a Republican who was retiring after 11 years in office. Newberry's supporters decided to run him in the Senate race.

Meanwhile, President Woodrow Wilson had personally urged Henry Ford to run for the same office. The renowned automaker had been a notable opponent of the decision of the United States to join the Allies in World War I, even sponsoring a much ridiculed expedition of a "Peace Ship" to Europe in 1915. Yet Wilson considered that Ford's aversion to the conflict would make him a guaranteed supporter of his postwar initiatives to avoid other major wars. Michigan state law permitted a candidate to enter both the Democratic and Republican primaries, and Ford accordingly did so in an effort to become the choice of both major parties.

Newberry was at a distinct disadvantage in the election. While Ford was a household name across Michigan and the United States as a whole, Newberry was relatively unknown. Moreover, he had returned to the Navy when the United States declared war on Germany in April of 1917. When he joined the race for the Republican primary, he was stationed in New York City as a lieutenant commander of the Navy Fleet Reserve and an assistant to the commandant of the Third Naval District of New York. With the war not yet over in the run-up to the 1918 election, Newberry was duty-bound to remain at his post and had no chance to hit the campaign trail in person.

While Ford ran an inexpensive and muted campaign, relying mostly on name recognition, Newberry's campaigners mounted a massive public relations effort to promote their candidate. His campaign manager, Paul King, oversaw a staff of about 20 people at the campaign headquarters. Field operatives and organization representatives were dispatched throughout the state to drum up support for Newberry. Publications were packed with advertisements lauding his character.

While some of the effort sought to promote the virtues of Newberry as a candidate, there was also a sustained smear campaign against Ford. His pacifist and anti-Semitic views were criticized, and his son Edsel was painted as a draft dodger. Ford had tried to get Edsel a deferment from military conscription so that he would be able to oversee the Ford company's munitions production, but the request was denied; however, Edsel was later exempted from service after the draft board declared him to be indispensable to the war effort. Capitalizing on the ongoing war fervor, Newberry's campaign contrasted their candidate (who, along with his two sons, had served in the military) with the Fords. Newberry even won endorsements from former Presidents Theodore Roosevelt and William Howard Taft, with the former criticizing Edsel's deferment while praising the service of Newberry's sons.

Newberry's opponents soon began to question the unrestrained spending in his campaign. Though critics would later charge that Newberry must have known about, approved, and likely supplied the vast amounts of money that were being committed to the race, the candidate maintained that he was focused on his naval duties and had no knowledge of any wrongdoing. "The campaign for my nomination for senator has been voluntarily conducted by my friends in Michigan," he said on August 21. "I have taken no part in it whatever and no contributions or expenditures have been made with my knowledge or consent."

Six days later, Newberry won the Republican primary. The victory ensured that Ford, who won the Democratic primary, would not be uncontested in the general election. However, Newberry was already being pressured by some GOP colleagues to resign due to the allegations of excessive campaign financing. Lieutenant Governor Loren D. Dickinson wrote to him shortly before the primary, formally requesting that he withdraw from the race.

The campaigns were required to disclose how much they had spent on the primary, and Newberry's team reported an astonishingly high sum. The vast PR effort had cost $176,568.08, the modern day equivalent of almost $2.8 million. The official paperwork suggested that the funding had been above board, since Newberry had not contributed any of his own money. However, almost $150,000 of the total had come from the candidate's relatives. Newberry's opponents suspected that he had personally funded his campaign and exceeded the limits set by Michigan law and the Federal Corrupt Practices Act many times over. While a resolution was introduced in the Senate on September 17 to investigate the primary, this was later dismissed in committee.

In the general election, Newberry defeated Ford by 7,567 votes out of about half a million cast. It was an especially narrow victory, considering the Republican candidates in the races for governor and five other state offices won with majorities of more than 100,000. The Republicans had only a two-vote majority in the Senate after the 1918 election. Had Ford won in Michigan, the chamber would have been evenly split between Democrats and Republicans.

While a New York grand jury voted 16-1 that Newberry had done nothing for which he could be indicted, the criticism of his campaign and challenges to his ability to hold office were only just beginning. Ten days after the election, Michigan resident Albert H. Fowler filed charges of corruption against Newberry.

Ford filed his own petition on January 6, 1919, demanding a recount. While the second tally reduced Newberry's plurality to 4,337 votes, it affirmed that he had still been the winner in the general election. Newberry took the oath of office on March 4, and Ford filed another petition a day later accusing the newly seated senator of unlawful expenditures and voter intimidation. The matter was sent to the Committee on Privileges and Elections.

Determined to prove that Newberry had not won the election fairly, Ford used some of his personal wealth to hire private investigators to look into the matter. Some of the information they gathered would be used by a federal grand jury, which on November 29 indicted Newberry and 134 associates who had worked on his campaign on charges of violating state and federal election laws. This development finally spurred the Senate to start its investigation into Newberry's eligibility; it adopted a resolution to look into the election in December.

Newberry maintained his innocence, suggesting that it was hypocritical for his opponent to criticize him for spending too much money on the election and then dedicating a large sum to investigating the campaign. "Such charges are lies made out of the whole cloth, and I believe the country will realize the political animus inspiring them," he said. Surprisingly, Ford said he did not hold Newberry personally responsible for any violations of election law; rather, he said the "big interests have simply victimized him."

The indictment charged that the Newberry campaign had ultimately spent between $500,000 and $1 million on the campaign leading up to the primary and general election. The modern day equivalent would be between $7.9 million and $15.7 million.

Several newspapers criticized the amount of spending in Newberry's campaign. Some suggested that the amount spent to win the Senate seat was unprecedented, noting that William Lorimer's slush fund only came to $100,000 while Isaac Stephenson (a former GOP senator from Wisconsin) had been criticized for a mere $107,793 in election spending. "The chair of a Michigan senator should be onyx and gold inlaid with glittering gems, if we may accept the findings of the federal grand jury," commented the Grand Rapids Press. The Brooklyn Citizen said that even if Newberry was innocent of personal malfeasance, he was still "the beneficiary of perhaps the very worst misuse of money ever made in an American election." The Raleigh News and Observer in North Carolina was especially harsh, saying Michigan had "defiled her political system and shamed the whole country."

The humorist Will Rogers would take a more tongue-in-cheek view. One joke he wrote to appear on theater screens before a show declared, "A senator in Michigan was convicted for buying his seat in the Senate. The law says you can buy your seat but you must not pay too much for it."

Some of the 135 people indicted in the matter would quickly admit guilt. Allie K. Moore, a former staffer at the Marquette Mining Journal, and printer William E. Rice each entered a plea three days after the indictment. Meanwhile, several witnesses testified to a variety of malfeasance in the election. One witness estimated that the election cost Newberry's campaign about $800,000, while another claimed that he had seen a pile of money in King's office that looked like it amounted to at least $1 million. Prosecutors alleged that Newberry's supporters had forged signatures on a petition supporting candidate James W. Helme in the Democratic primary against Ford. In one of the more sensational incidents, former Flint mayor Bill McKeighan said the Newberry campaign told him to swing his district for the GOP candidate or face the entirety of a two to 15-year sentence for his conviction of accessory to robbery and assault with deadly weapons; the district went for Newberry, and McKeighan's sentence was later reversed by the Michigan Supreme Court.

Along with 16 co-defendants, Newberry was found guilty on March 20, 1920. He was sentenced to two years in prison and a $10,000 fine. The Senate had again proved sluggish on pursuing an investigation. Spurred by the verdict, the Committee on Privileges and Elections directed a subcommittee to look into the 1918 election on April 9. It would not issue its findings for another 17 months.

In the time it took for the Senate committee to reach its conclusions, Newberry's case proceeded to the Supreme Court on appeal. The 5-4 decision in Newberry v. United States, issued on May 2, 1921, determined that the state had the authority and responsibility to regulate primary elections and party nominations. For this reason, the majority opinion declared, measures passed by Congress such as those in the Federal Corrupt Practices Act would "interfere with purely domestic affairs of the state and infringe upon liberties reserved to the people." The justices were also unanimous in finding that the judge in Newberry's case erred in his instructions to the jury.

Four months later, the Committee on Privileges and Elections finally reached its own conclusions regarding the 1918 election in Michigan. The majority report concluded that Newberry had been elected legally and that the charges of voter intimidation and fraud were unfounded. The findings reflected Newberry's own claims of innocence: the candidate had been in New York as a naval officer, the money in the race had been largely contributed by his family and friends, and he had not known about or solicited such campaign donations.

The majority report did express disapproval of the amount of money spent on the election, concluding that Newberry's campaign had used at least $195,000 to get their candidate elected. However, it found that "there was no concealment whatever...and it was spent entirely for legal and proper purposes." The report declared that Newberry was entitled to his seat and should continue to serve in the Senate.

The minority report was written by three Democrats on the committee. While it agreed with the majority in determining that Ford had not won the general election, it also concluded that Newberry had been fully aware that his campaign was breaking election laws and acquiesced to this behavior. The report concluded that Newberry was not entitled to hold his seat and that his office should be declared vacant.

Extensive debates on the issue took place between November of 1921 and January of 1922. Senator George W. Norris, a Progressive Republican from Nebraska, said that one of Michigan's seats in the Senate had essentially been up for "public sale" in the 1918 election. He argued that exonerating Newberry would lead to a Senate full of wealthy tycoons in future years, sarcastically commenting that this would "insure a high-class membership."

Newberry spoke in his own defense on January 9, 1922. He regretted that the spending in the 1918 election had reached the level it did, though he claimed to have no knowledge of how much money his campaign received, where it came from, or what the funds were used for. He said his lack of knowledge about the campaign was the reason he had opted not to appear before the investigating committee, but that he wanted to speak before the Senate as a whole to clear up any misunderstandings. "I did not solicit or spend, directly or indirectly, one single dollar in the campaign," he said. "Nor did I know of the contributions made until afterward."

There were three attempts to adopt the minority view and declare Newberry's seat vacant, but each one failed. Before a vote was taken on the majority report, it was amended with a statement that "severely condemned" the expenditures in Newberry's campaign as "harmful to the honor and dignity of the Senate and dangerous to the perpetuity of free government." Some senators were appalled by the amendment. William S. Kenyon, a Republican from Iowa, questioned how the Senate could vote on a measure that validated a member's eligibility while simultaneously claiming that their behavior had been injurious to the nation's principles. "My God!" Kenyon exclaimed. "You can never lessen the dignity of the Senate after today."

The amended majority report was approved in a 46-41 vote, which split largely along party lines. Nine Republicans joined 32 Democrats in opposing the decision to declare Newberry's election to be valid. While many observers thought that five Progressive Republicans would join the opposition, they unexpectedly swayed the result by casting their votes in favor of seating Newberry.

It would prove to be a Pyrrhic victory for the senator and his supporters. The exorbitant spending in Newberry's campaign had had been criticized from all quarters, and the practice was even nicknamed "Newberryism." Campaign spending became an issue in several elections in 1922, and Ford eagerly donated to candidates who were running against the senators who had voted in favor of Newberry.

One of the incumbents defeated in the 1922 election was the other senator from Michigan, Charles E. Townsend, who lost the general election to Democratic candidate Woodbridge N. Ferris. Though the GOP retained a majority in the Senate, it lost six seats to the Democrats. Since Newberry had retained his seat by only five votes, the shift was just enough to pose a new threat. Robert La Follette, the Progressive Republican senator from Wisconsin, promised to bring the issue of Newberry's election up again.

Soon after the election, Newberry announced that he would resign effective November 21. He cited Townsend's defeat as the reason for his departure, noting that the discontent over his campaign spending had probably played a role in this result. "[A] fair analysis of the vote in Michigan, and other votes where friends and political enemies alike have suffered defeat, will demonstrate that a general feeling of unrest was mainly responsible," he said.

Newberry maintained that he had been elected fairly, and suggested that he would continue to be "hampered by partisan political persecution" if he stayed in office. Cordell Hull, the chairman of the National Democratic Committee and future Secretary of State under President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, interpreted Newberry's resignation differently. The senator's departure in the face of an altered Senate, he said, was "a confession of moral guilt of the offense charged."

Governor Alexander Groesbeck appointed James Couzens, the mayor of Detroit, to fill the remainder of Newberry's term. It was something of a belated victory for Ford; Couzens had worked as the automaker's business manager between 1903 and 1915. Couzens was re-elected in 1924 and 1930, but was not nominated in 1936.

The Newberry v. United States decision would endure for two decades, frustrating Progressive efforts to limit corruption in elections through campaign finance rules. A newly revised Federal Corrupt Practices Act, based on the Supreme Court ruling as well as the Teapot Dome scandal, was passed in 1925 to adjust the federal campaign finance law. While it repealed the disclosure requirements for primaries, it also declared that all committees operating in two or more states had to file quarterly reports for all contributors giving $100 or more. The law also raised the personal financing limit on Senate races in some states with large populations to $25,000.

Unfortunately, the new law proved easy to skirt and difficult to enforce. The Federal Corrupt Practices Act of 1925 would only exclude two people from office due to campaign violations, and both offenses occurred in 1927; though the law granted the authority to levy fines for these violations, no candidates were ever ordered to pay a penalty. It was finally replaced by the Federal Election Campaign Act in 1971.

In 1941, the Supreme Court reversed itself in United States v. Classic. This 4-3 decision determined that the Constitution gave Congress the ability to regulate primary elections.

After his resignation, Newberry returned to his work in manufacturing in Michigan. He died in Grosse Point on October 3, 1945.

Sources: The Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, Historic Elmwood Cemetery and Foundation, The Miller Center, "Federal Prosecution of Election Offenses" by the United States Justice Department, "The Election Case of Truman H. Newberry of Michigan" at Senate.gov, "Newberry Car Kills Girl" in the Gazette Times on Sep. 6 1911, "No Prosecution Against Newberry" in the Lewiston Saturday Journal on Sep. 11 1911, "Lieutenant Governor Demands Withdrawl of Truman Newberry" in the Oswosso Argus-Press on Aug. 22 1918, "Two Confess Guilt in Newberry Scandal" in the Ludington Daily News on Dec. 2 1919, "Newberry Aide Had 'Money Pile'" in the Spokesman-Review on Feb. 13 1920, "Sensation Stirs Newberry Trial" in the Milwaukee Sentinel on Feb. 13 1920, "Ford-Newberry Contest Case Reported" in the Deseret News on Sept. 29 1921, "Newberry Spoke in Own Defense" in the Lawrence Journal-World on Jan. 9 1922, "Senate Seats Newberry; Censures Vast Spending" in The Day on Jan. 13 1922, "Newberryism Means Death to Democracy" in The Searchlight on Jan. 31 1922, "Newberry Resigns from U.S. Senate" in the Lawrence Journal-World on Nov. 20 1922, "Newberry Quitting Confession of Guilt, Chairman Hull Thinks" in the Schenectady Gazette on Nov. 21 1922, Successful Men of Michigan, Michigan Biographical Directory, The Literary Digest Vol. 63, Reforming the Electoral Process in America by Brian L. Fife, The Papers of Will Rogers edited by Steven K. Gragert and M. Jane Johannson, Drawing Conclusions on Henry Ford by Rudolph and Sonya Alvarado, Encyclopedia of American Political Parties and Elections by Larry J. Sabato and Howard R. Ernst, Making and Selling Cars: Innovation and Change in the U.S. Automotive Industry by James M. Rubenstein, The Power of Money in Congressional Campaigns, 1880-2006 by David C.W. Parker, The New International Yearbook: A Compendium of the World's Progress for the Year 1918 edited by Frank Moore Colby

George E. Foulkes: postal service shakedown

Photo credit: findagrave.com

George Ernest Foulkes would earn a seat in the House of Representatives based on a solid background of government service and agricultural work. He would be ousted soon after amid accusations that he was using his new position for personal gain.

Foulkes was born in Chicago on Christmas Day of 1878. After attending the public schools, he studied law at Lake Forest University and graduated the same year. He was admitted to the bar the same year and began working as a special agent for the United States Treasury Department. The work brought him to bureaus in New York City, the Twin Cities in Minnesota, and El Paso, Texas. Foulkes remained in this service until 1919.

It was not until he settled down to another line of work that Foulkes began to show interest in politics. He moved to Hartford, Michigan, in 1920 to begin pursuing agriculture. Four years later, he appeared as a delegate to the Democratic state convention. He returned to this summit in 1926 and 1928. Finally, in 1932, Foulkes won a seat in the House of Representatives.

Foulkes gave special attention to agricultural issues while in Congress. In March of 1934, he asked that United States beet and cane sugar producers be given special preference over Cuban growers. There were signs that Foulkes was not content to remain in the House, however. He announced that he would put his name up for consideration in the year's Senate race if former Detroit mayor Frank Murphy, the governor-general of the Philippines, decided against running. Foulkes argued that since the sitting senator was from Detroit, it would make more sense to have the other seat occupied by a person from the western part of Michigan. The Farmer-Labor Party named him as their candidate for Michigan's gubernatorial election, but Foulkes declined the nomination.

The ugly allegations that surfaced shortly before the 1934 election ensured that Foulkes would be unlikely to win any elected office he sought to pursue. In August of 1934, Foulkes was accused of trying to solicit campaign donations from Michigan postmasters in order to guarantee their continued appointments. Postal authorities began investigating the matter after Edmund N. Cook, who acted as postmaster at Allegran between November 1933 and spring of 1934, agreed to pay Foulkes $20 on an assessment of $250 and promptly brought this piece of evidence to the attention of his superiors. At the general election, Foulkes lost to Republican candidate Clare Hoffman.

The investigation unveiled enough evidence to indict Foulkes and two others. Foulkes was charged with conspiracy. Elmer Smith, a former postmaster, was accused of solicitation of funds. Daniel Gerow, a former Shiawassee County sheriff and Democratic state central committee leader who had been considered the likely person to be U.S. marshal for Michigan's western district, was accused of both crimes.

Several postmasters had sworn affidavits alleging similar behavior to that charged by Cook. Gerow was accused of approaching 27 postmasters with a letter written by Foulkes, which suggested that the postmasters' permanent appointments would not be approved unless they contributed 10 percent of their assessments to the congressman's campaign fund. One postmaster, Ed Hackman, said he first received the demand by a letter delivered by Gerow and later in a conference where Foulkes made the threat directly to him.

Gerow quickly changed his plea from not guilty to no contest, and Smith followed suit. Foulkes was convicted at a trial in November of 1935 and ordered to serve 18 months in prison and pay a $1,000 fine. Gerow was ordered to pay $2,800 in fines--$200 on each of his 14 indictments--or go to prison. Smith was fined $500 and also told that he would go to jail if he could not raise the money.

Foulkes was paroled in June of 1936 and returned to farming. He continued in this line of work, writing on agricultural issues and becoming active in farm organization work. In 1958, an article in the Toledo Blade reported a perplexing offer Foulkes had made to bequeath his estate to a poor British farm boy. The article said that Foulkes had seven farms in North Dakota totaling about 6,000 acres and that the British Embassy was working to find a recipient.

The report correctly identified Foulkes as a Hartford resident, though his age was slightly off and it put his birthplace as Shropshire, England. This suggests that Foulkes chose to make the offer to another George Foulkes across the pond, a Shropshire native who shared his name and was serving as a member of Parliament.

The offer came not long before Foulkes' death. He passed away in Hartford on December 13, 1960.

Sources: Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, "Vigorous Fight is Being Carried on to Save the Sugar Industry" in the Owosso Argus-Press on Mar. 2 1934, "Foulkes May Enter in Senate Contest" in the Owosso Argus-Press on Mar. 7 1934, "Postal Inspectors Look Into Charges" in the Owosso Argus-Press on Aug. 18 1934, "Warrants Are Issued Today" in the Owosso Argus-Press on May 3 1935, "Evidence Links Gerow, Foulkes in Conspiracy" in the Owosso Argus-Press on Nov. 19 1935, "Geo. Foulkes Starts Term in U.S. Prison" in the News-Palladium on Nov. 25 1935, "Parole is Granted Former Congressman" in the Southeast Missourian on Jun. 15 1936, "Michigan Resident to Give Farm to Poor British Boy" in the Toledo Blade on May 10 1958

Frank D. McKay: the Teflon boss

(Source)

Frank Donald McKay made plenty of enemies in his time as a political boss, but perhaps the most bizarre action by one of his foes came in October of 1935. McKay's maid called police after noticing that two men were peering at his house in Grand Rapids, Michigan, from a concealed position. When officers arrived, they found former police commissioner John Gillespie and a gas station employee spying on the residence. Both men were arrested, and police discovered that they had been armed with a rifle and pistol. Gillespie insisted that the weapons were for his own protection, saying McKay was a dangerous man. He blamed McKay and Republican Governor Frank Fitzgerald for his downfall after Fitzgerald repudiated him.

McKay had gradually built his empire to the point where he was capable of controlling much of the Republican politics in Michigan. He was born in Grand Rapids in 1883 and got his start working in furniture factories. He then built up his personal fortune by becoming a financier, extending into real estate, insurance, and banking interests. He also owned the Michigan Times and had holdings in lumber, tires, food, and numerous other areas. In addition to making him a millionaire, this extensive network helped him gain control over patronage jobs and public contracts in the Grand Rapids district. Though one retrospective said he spoke in "short, explosive phrases, usually profane," McKay was still able to form alliances on the local level and with other party bosses in the state. He once said he dedicated 95 percent of his time to business and only five percent to politics, but McKay's grip tightened to the point where he could sway the delegates to any candidate of his choice at the GOP state primaries.

McKay had not truly consolidated his power until the 1930s, but his first brush with the law came in November of 1919. He was one of 135 people indicted on corruption, fraud, and conspiracy charges. The focal point of these crimes was Republican Senator Truman H. Newberry, the biggest name of the defendants, and the charge that $500,000 to $1 million was improperly used to influence Newberry's re-election over Democratic candidate and automobile magnate Henry Ford in 1918. McKay was then serving as an assignment clerk in the Detroit courts, and charged with twice giving $10 to residents in "overt acts" of corruption. He was not convicted of the crime.

McKay's only real political office was state treasurer, which he held from 1925 to 1930. One year after he left, he was investigated by a grand jury over his handling of state funds, but never charged with a crime. He was still suspected of wielding excessive control over the governor's office, however. In 1935, Fitzgerald defended his relationship with McKay after Republican Representative Albert J. Engel warned that the GOP's chances of success in 1936 would be endangered if the party did not distance itself from McKay. Fitzgerald accused Engel of acting out of self-interest or making an attempt to discredit the current administration. "McKay is my friend," he said. "I don't say this is true of Congressman Engel, but I find that most of those who criticize him ask me to do things that Frank McKay would never dream of asking...The charge that this administration is hooked up with Frank McKay has been whispered constantly, but no one has ever produced definitive evidence of it."

Engel responded by demanding a full probe of Fitzgerald's activities. Though this apparently did not happen, Engel proved correct in his warning, at least as it related to the governor's office. In the 1936 race, Democratic candidate Frank Murphy made "McKayism" an issue and vowed to end it in state government; voters turned Fitzgerald out in November. McKay was investigated by the state legislature to see if his personal wealth correlated with his political activities, but once again no charges were forthcoming.

The year 1940 was a mixed bag for McKay. He retained enough power that he was able to convince Republican presidential candidate Wendell Willkie to grant him control of statewide patronage jobs if he were sent to the White House. At the same convention, however, anti-boss factions were successful in blocking him from getting a vote and preventing his re-election as Republican national committeeman. He was also subject to three grand jury investigations throughout the year related to fraud, extortion, and kickbacks. In November, Franklin D. Roosevelt bested Willkie for an unprecedented third term as President; the same month, McKay was indicted on charges of fraud and mail fraud. In one incident, he was accused of defrauding Edsel Ford of $9,918 to reimburse himself for contributions made to Fitzgerald's 1938 gubernatorial campaign. Two mail fraud counts said he collected money under false pretenses to finance the state Republican Party's debt. Another charge alleged that he tried to bilk Grand Rapids out of $300,000 in an approximately $2.2 million bond issue to finance a pipeline in 1938. And liquor issues resurfaced again, with prosecutors saying McKay collected $500,000 in tribute from 16 national distillers over five years.

The state's Liquor Control Commission had taken over bulk liquor purchases and retail licenses following the repeal of Prohibition. Not surprisingly, the three men on the board were McKay stooges, and distillers seeking business from the state had to go through the boss. McKay ensured that those friendly to the GOP got first consideration, while distillers considered more Democratic were bumped to the back of the line. It seemed likely that McKay collected a bit of cash in exchange for granting applicants access to the commission. After five days of deliberation in July of 1941, however, the jury had failed to reach a verdict. The jury was dismissed and subjected to a tampering investigation, but in May of 1942 McKay was acquitted along with seven co-defendants. The Edsel Ford charge was dismissed in July, and in October the pipeline count was dropped after the prosecutor determined that the chance of success at trial was too remote.

The result was a common one in McKay's repeated visits to the courtroom. The state could only prove McKay told state employees related to the liquor commission that their jobs depended on continued GOP success. Proving corruption was more difficult, but it didn't stop prosecutors from trying. In December of 1944, McKay was indicted alongside sports promoter Floyd Fitzsimmons and state representative William Green for bribery conspiracy. This time, McKay was charged with influencing the state legislature on an issue related to horse racing and parimutuel betting. The legislature defeated a bill aiming to boost state revenues from the activities, something which would have hurt the mob's stake in the sport. McKay was known to have connections to such gangsters, including the infamous Purple Gang, through their transition from illegal to sanctioned liquor sales.

The case had a dramatic ending. The state had targeted several people on corruption charges, charging some 50 people with crimes. State senator Warren G. Hooper, a legislator who had confessed to state corruption and agreed to turn state's evidence, was set to be the star witness in the trial of McKay and his cohorts. The state's case rested heavily on this man, and in January of 1945 he was found shot to death inside his burning car outside Springport. It was an indisputable gangland murder, and it received a bizarre twist when state attorney general John R. Dethmers charged widespread malfeasance at the Jackson State Penitentiary. Dethmers alleged that the inmates had essentially taken over control of the prison, with officials allowing them to pay for prostitutes to be brought in and accepting bribes to sanction escapes. In such an atmosphere, Dethmers said, it was entirely possible that imprisoned gangsters could have been granted a temporary release to murder Hooper, then return to the prison for a perfect alibi.

Four Detroit youths were charged with conspiracy in such a scheme. Prosecutors argued that one of the defendants was allowed to confer with members of the Purple Gang prior to the murder, and that the men conspired to arrange Hooper's death for a $15,000 payoff. The state made several thinly veiled accusations of McKay's involvement in the plot, though McKay himself was never directly charged. Dethmers said the murder was specifically meant to silence testimony against McKay, and special prosecutor Kim Sigler identified McKay as "the one man most interested in the death of the death of the Albion senator." The four men were convicted of conspiracy to commit murder in August of 1945 and sentenced to four-and-a-half years in prison each. No one was ever charged with the actual murder of Hooper.

The state launched one more salvo at McKay, once again charging malfeasance related to the liquor trade. In June of 1945, he and former Flint mayor William McKeighan, along with three other men, were indicted on a charge of conspiracy to violate state liquor laws. The group was accused of receiving a dollar a case from distillers for liquor sold in Michigan between 1938 and 1940. Distillers who wanted larger liquor orders from the state had forked over some $400,000, the state charged, and McKay and his co-defendants helped move things along by threatening and intimidating the commission.

The trial had to be moved after allegations of jury tampering. The state called 32 witnesses to the stand at the trial in 1946. The defense didn't call anyone, and the gambit worked. In February, the judge directed a verdict of not guilty after determining that the state failed to prove any criminal acts. Charges of bribery had been thrown out at the beginning of the trial, and that seriously undermined the conspiracy allegations. Moreover, the judge said it appeared to be a case of McKay and the other men trying to get increased sales and listings for the state liquor commission. Sigler argued that the outcome demonstrated a need for a law making it illegal to sell political influence, though enacting and enforcing such a law would be quite difficult.

McKay had also made an enemy in future president Gerald Ford. When Ford's stepfather advised him that he would have to earn McKay's favor if he wanted to get anywhere in Michigan politics, Ford went to meet with the boss. After waiting for several hours, McKay brushed him off after only three minutes. Angered, Ford joined the anti-boss advocates. He eased on these activities during World War II to join the military, but used this to his advantage when he returned to the state. As part of his campaign for the 1948 Republican nomination for the House of Representatives, he set up a red, white, and blue Navy surplus Quonset hut right outside McKay's office tower in Grand Rapids. In a sign of McKay's diminished power, he wasn't even able to kick the upstart candidate off his property. At the Republican primary, Ford ousted McKay's pick, 10-year incumbent Bartel Jonkman, Jr. and went on to win the general election.

McKay quietly disappeared from the political scene, and at some point he moved to Florida to continue business activities there. He died in Miami Beach in January of 1965.

Sources: The Political Graveyard, "Newberry And 133 Others Indicted For Election Plot" in the New York Times on Nov. 30 1919, "Gillespie Is Freed After Short Arrest" in the Ludington Daily News on Oct. 15 1935, "Engel's Talk Challenged By Governor" in the Ludington Daily News on Nov. 2 1935, "Engel Asks Probe Of McKay's Power" in the Ludington Daily News on Nov. 5 1935, "Business & Finance: Grand Rapids Heroism" in Time on May 25 1936, "House To Continue McKay Investigation" in the Ludington Daily News on Apr. 25 1939, "Michigan GOP Chief Indicted" in the Miami News on Nov. 27 1940, "Study Further Action Against McKay" in the Ludington Daily News on Nov. 28 1940, "Grand Jury Resumes Investigation Into Jury" in the Ludington Daily News on Jul. 23 1941, "GOP Committeeman Acquitted Of Fraud" in the Reading Eagle on May 26 1942, "Dismiss McKay Mail Fraud Charge" in the Milwaukee Journal on Jul. 18 1942, "McKay Freed Of Last Count" in the Milwaukee Journal on Oct. 15 1942, "Jury Accuses Politics Figure" in the Milwaukee Journal on Dec. 3 1944, "Michigan State Senator, Witness In Probe, Slain" in the Evening Independent on Jan. 12 1945, "Politician Held In Bribe Plot" in the St. Petersburg Times on Jun. 17 1945, "Blow Lid On Orgies In World's Largest Prison" in the Lodi News-Sentinel on Jul. 25 1945, "Four Detroit Hoodlums Convicted In Murder Plot" in the St. Petersburg Times on Aug. 1 1945, "Judge Orders Frank McKay Freed Of Conspiracy Charge" in the Ludington Daily News on Feb. 14 1946, "Sale Of Political Influence Leads To Drive For Curbs" in the Milwaukee Sentinel on Dec. 8 1947, "The Shaping Of The President: Ford's Early Years" in New York Magazine on Aug. 26 1974, Gerald R. Ford by Douglas Brinkley, Time and Chance: Gerald Ford's Appointment with History by James M. Cannon, The Powers That Punish: Prisons and Politics in the Era of the "Big House," 1920-1955 by Charles Bright

Arthur Brown: second time unlucky

Image from historytogo.utah.gov

By some reports, the dissolution of Arthur Brown's first marriage was punctuated by a gunshot. Unlike his later brides, not much is known about his first wife. Even her name is only recorded as L.C. Brown. Eventually, Arthur Brown took a shine to another woman: Isabel Cameron, the daughter of a state senator. It wasn't long before he deserted his family in favor of this new flame. In some versions, the move so enraged his first wife that she tried to shoot Cameron; in others, she confronted Brown in his law office and actually managed to fire a bullet, though it missed and Brown was able to take the gun away from her.

These alleged confrontations came to light in the wake of an incident that occurred a few decades after Brown's first breakup. Once again, a member of the fairer sex was upset with him because he was canoodling with someone else. But this time, the scorned woman had a better aim.

Brown's first relationship troubles took place in his home state of Michigan. Born in March of 1843 in Schoolcraft, he left for Ohio to attend Antioch College. He graduated in 1862, and went on to earn a legal degree from the University of Michigan. After his admission to the bar, he began practicing in Kalamazoo with a focus on mining and criminal law. When he walked out on his first wife, Brown was denounced by hundreds of his friends and associates. He married Cameron after his first wife divorced him, but with his reputation in Michigan broken he left the state in 1879 and relocated to Salt Lake City in Utah. He was later described as a "Gentile in faith, but a Mormon in practice."

Brown had some ambitions to be a U.S. District Attorney, but he settled for a private practice after that appointment failed to materialize. He eventually became a millionaire and well-known enough that he was chosen to represent Utah in the Senate after the territory became a state in 1896. The other Senator chosen, Frank J. Cannon, was picked for a term running through 1899. Brown's term was shorter; he was to begin in January of 1896 for a term ending in March of the next year. He didn't make much of an impact in Washington in this short time. Brown's profile in contemporary newspapers mostly focused on his steadfast opposition to the free silver movement despite its popularity in the West. "He has no consideration for anything that stands in his way, and the Senatorial courtesy is likely to receive many rude shocks," the New York Times said in their unflattering assessment. "He is an intense, bitter partisan with no sympathy for any one who does not share his view on general politics or on silver. Always pugnacious, he would be willing to take up any gauntlet." The Times also reported that there were irregularities in the Republican caucus that chose Brown, but the appointment was never seriously challenged.

Brown opted not to run for re-nomination at the end of his term and resumed practicing law. However, his foray into politics resulted in consequences that rippled through the rest of his life. At the 1896 Republican National Convention in St. Louis, he met Annie Maddison Bradley, a woman 30 years younger than him. Bradley worked as a clerk at the Salt Lake Water Works Department, and from 1900 to 1902 she was a secretary of Republican State Committee in Utah. Brown and Bradley began an affair, which seemed to have more downs than ups. Bradley was fairly open about her dalliances, telling her husband Clarence that the son she had borne in 1900 did not belong to him. Clarence responded by turning to the bottle and then leaving to work for a railroad in Nevada; there, he developed a gambling problem, embezzled from the company to compensate, and ultimately served 18 months of a two-year prison sentence. In September of 1902, Brown filed for divorce from his second wife. Isabel said that Brown abandoned her on the first of that month, and she hired a private investigator to find out what he was up to. For a time, he and Bradley had lived in Grand Junction, Colorado, but they had returned to Salt Lake City to take up rooms in a boarding house. Isabel was not keen on divorce, since she intended to be presented at court in England and divorced women were forbidden to enter there. Instead, she gladly accompanied police to the house to watch them arrest Brown and Bradley for adultery.

This action caused the love triangle to become a sensational public matter. Brown paid his own $500 bond as well as the bond for Bradley. There was a bit of a mix-up in her release, as she was sent out before a judge had officially approved the bond. She wasn't much of a fugitive; she wound up in jail four months later on the same adultery charge, and was ultimately arrested at least four times for the crime. At one point, Brown angrily confronted the police, accusing them of harassing Bradley and acting like cowards by sending out sizable forces to detain her. Brown himself racked up a similar record. In February of 1903, he was jailed after failing to pay a temporary $150 a month alimony to Isabel; he vowed to fight the order until it wound up in the Supreme Court. By October, he was under bond again for improper relations with Bradley, and the next month he was again bonded for $500 for adultery.

Isabel said the affair began about one year after the 1896 Republican National Convention, and details of fiery confrontations between the two women in Brown's life began to emerge. It was suggested that Isabel and Bradley had brawled at one point, with Isabel striking Bradley with a horsewhip. At another point, Isabel interrupted Brown and Bradley's attempt to get away to a hotel in Pontacello, Idaho. There, Isabel grabbed Bradley by the throat and threatened to kill her. In response, Brown gave Bradley a revolver to defend herself against his wife. It was also said that Bradley had accompanied Brown to court every day during a murder trial.

It soon became clear that Bradley was intent on getting Brown to marry her. Isabel blamed Bradley's "hypnotic influence" over her husband for his actions, saying she had repeatedly urged him to divorce her. "Tear up your Brigham Street home," Bradley demanded in one letter produced by Isabel. "I am sick and tired of your dallying. The longer madame stays there the more strongly entrenched is the enemy. You haven't the courage to strike the blow you promised me to strike." Isabel also produced a written statement she had taken from her husband after an incident in which he called her "my bitterest enemy" and vowed to get a divorce. She said he had sent her a letter giving over their house to her and asking that the possessions by divided up according to ownership.

Brown disputed the claims when Isabel tried to get a settlement. Isabel said that Brown owned property in Utah, Idaho, Michigan, and Missouri valued at $291,248, that he had already named Bradley as a beneficiary in his will, and that he would try to hide his assets. She said he made a respectable $1,000 a month from his legal practice, while she earned a mere five dollars a month renting property. She asked that she be given ownership of the house, as Brown had apparently done with his letter, as well as a monthly stipend of $370 for the rest of her life. She won the temporary alimony which Brown refused to pay. Meanwhile, Bradley threatened in October of 1903 to plead guilty to two adultery charges against her and thus take Brown with her to jail unless he finalized the divorce and married her. By this point, she felt Brown had made peace with his wife, but also claimed that Brown had begged her not to enter the plea and promised he would get a divorce. Bradley pleaded anyway, but Brown managed to argue that the charges against him should be quashed because his wife should not be able to testify. The court agreed, and Bradley went to jail as Brown went free.

The scandal gradually faded away, but the relationship between Brown and Bradley resurfaced dramatically on December 8, 1908 at the Raleigh Hotel in Washington, D.C. Brown had traveled to the city to represent the St. Louis Mining Company in a lawsuit against the Montana Mining Company. A maid heard two gunshots and rushed to get the manager, who found Brown sprawled out on the floor and Bradley standing nearby. "She shot me," Brown proclaimed simply. The manager performed initial treatment, namely giving Brown a stiff drink of brandy, and ordered Bradley to leave. "I will remain here," Bradley replied. "I am the mother of his two children."

Bradley was arrested as Brown was rushed to a hospital. He had been shot twice with a .38-caliber handgun, which the manager found in the room. One bullet had grazed his hand, and the other one ended up in his abdomen. The New York Times was optimistic, writing that the former Senator was in critical condition but recovering. The Pittsburgh Press immediately headlined their article by saying Brown had been shot "fatally." The assessment was premature, but turned out to be correct. Four days later, Brown died of kidney damage aggravated by the shooting. He was returned to Salt Lake City for burial.

Bradley proved surprisingly chatty in the days after the shooting, and spoke with the press on a few other occasions in the lead-up to her trial on a charge of murder. She caused a bit of a stir by calling up George Sutherland, a Republican Senator from Utah, after the shooting but said she simply knew him from her days in the newspaper business. She said two of her four children had been fathered by Brown, and that she wanted him to marry her to make them legitimate.

When Brown went to Washington, Bradley thought the nation's capital would provide a nice place for a quiet wedding away from Utah. Brown had thought to send Bradley to the other half of the country; before he left, he bought her a railroad ticket to California. She exchanged it in order to go to Washington, found out where Brown was staying, and took a room. She later confronted Brown in his quarters, and found that he had several letters in his room from Annie C. Adams, the mother of a famous Utah actress. Bradley said she she demanded a marriage, and that Brown had started to walk out. Enraged, she had opened fire.

Bradley was met with a fair amount of sympathy. Brown refused to speak to prosecutors before he died, and the hospital superintendent said he had promised not to press charges if he recovered; one of Brown's sons insisted that a a criminal trial take place, saying it was what his father would have wanted. Adams confirmed that she and Brown had gotten engaged, and that he hoped to make an amicable break with his mistress. Despite the fact that Bradley had taken the life of her future husband, Adams harbored no hatred toward her. "If I could have seen her I am sure I could have prevented this terrible thing from happening," said Adams. "I never met her in my life, but I have a good deal of sympathy with her. I am sure now that she realizes what a terrible mistake she has made." Public opinion of Brown took another dive when it was found that he had explicitly excluded Bradley and the two children she claimed were his from his will. "That man heaped such indignities upon me that, disgraced, robbed of everything a woman holds dear in this world, and refused amends, there was nothing left for me to do but kill him, to wipe out the stain of shame and disgrace he had placed on my life," Bradley said a few weeks before her trial began in November of 1907.

With such open admissions, Bradley's lawyers could only hope for acquittal on a technicality. At first, they said they would argue that the killing was justified under "unwritten law." They settled on the argument that Brown's persistent mistreatment of Bradley had led to pent-up emotions and finally an outburst of homicidal insanity after the snub at the hotel. Brown, they said, was essentially responsible for his own death by triggering these emotions.

Prosecutors contended that Brown's death had been premeditated, and that Bradley had made the trip to Washington with the intent of committing murder. The trial ended up turning into an indictment of Brown's character. Bradley said Brown had been a heavy drinker, and their relationship had suffered for it. They argued frequently, and on one occasion she knocked several of his teeth out with an umbrella. She testified that Brown had strung her along with empty promises of marriage. Isabel died in August of 1905, and Bradley had divorced her husband and pushed hard for matrimony since her passing. She said Brown promised in June of 1906 to marry her, and had made another reassurance as late as October of that year. Some jurors teared up at her words. A doctor who took the stand expressed such contempt for Brown that the judge rebuked him.

The trial also introduced letters exchanged between Brown and Bradley, wherein Brown referred to her with terms of endearment such as "little mint julep." In the correspondence, Bradley berated Brown for seeing "that actress" and frequently insisted on seeing him, points which prosecutors said bolstered their argument for premeditation. The judge instructed the jury to find Bradley not guilty by reason of insanity if they determined that she was not capable of understanding her actions or distinguishing between right and wrong. He gave the caveat that if the shooting was "inflamed by rage, jealousy, revenge, or any other passion," it would reduce the severity of the crime but not fulfill the requirements of an insanity defense.

A single juror held out for a guilty verdict for some time, but eventually gave in. Thus acquitted, Bradley returned to the West to live with her sister in Nevada. In an unfortunate epilogue, the son whom Bradley claimed was Brown's and carried his name also inherited his mother's homicidal tendencies. In 1915, he stabbed Bradley's other son to death during a trip in Nevada. The dispute started over the question of who would cook and who would wash the dishes. Bradley herself held a variety of jobs before opening an antique store. She died in November of 1950.

Sources: The Biographical Directory of the United States Congress, Utah History To Go, "Utah's Senators Named" in the New York Times on Jan. 16 1896, "Brown May Lose Senatorship" in the New York Times on Jan. 17 1896, "Utah Ex-Senator Sues For Divorce" in the New York Times on Sep. 29 1902, "Lawyer Brown Under Arrest" in the Deseret News on Sep. 29 1902, "Suit Against Arthur Brown" in the Deseret News in Nov. 20 1902, "Ex-Senator Sent To Jail" in the New York Times on Feb. 6 1903, "Brown Will Appeal The Case" in the Deseret News on Feb. 28 1903, "Mrs. Bradley Makes Threat" in the Quebec Daily Mercury on Oct. 1 1903, "Local Briefs" in the Deseret News on Nov. 12 1903, "Ex-Senator Shot By A Woman At Capital" in the New York Times on Dec. 9 1906, "First Wife Shot At Brown" in the New York Times on Dec. 9 1906, "Woman Fatally Shoots Former Utah Senator" in the Pittsburgh Press on Dec. 9 1906, "Senator Brown Dead" in the Lewiston Saturday Journal on Dec. 13 1906, "Arthur Brown Claimed By Death" in the Deseret News on Dec. 13 1906, "Mrs. Adams Was Engaged" in the New York Times on Dec. 16 1906, "Mrs. Bradley Is Not Surprised" in the Pittsburgh Press on Dec. 23 1906, "Mrs. Bradley Tells Why She Shot Brown" in the Arizona Journal-Miner on Nov. 7 1907, "Mrs. Bradley's Tale Makes Jury Weep" in the New York Times on Nov. 20 1907, "Knocked Out Teeth" in the Spokane Daily Chronicle on Nov. 21 1907, "Bradley Defense Rests" in the New York Times on Nov. 27 1907, "Emotional Appeals To Bradley Jurors" in the New York Times on Dec. 1 1907, "Mrs. Bradley Not Guilty" in the Reading Eagle on Dec. 3 1907, Maude Adams: Idol of American Theater 1872-1953 by Armond Fields