When Michael J. Kennedy defended the Mob, he also defended radicals. Like me. But…
Sam Roberts wrote an obituary of Michael J. Kennedy in the NY Times upon Michael’s passing on Jan. 25th. Upon reading it, I smiled. Even as I was sad about his death. Michael and I met during that time of Panthers and Weather, Lords and Vietnam. Kunstler and Ratner and Meyers and Lefcourt and Handschu. I was a leader of the Young Lords Party. And an opponent of the Vietnam War who went to prison.
Back in the day Courtesy: Michael Abramson/PALANTE
As Roberts notes, Michael defended people like Huey Newton. And, John Gotti. Michael was quite aware of the Lords, and my draft resistance. Plus, my prison time. So I was a bit surprised when, on the second day of the Pizza Connection trial, Michael and I exchanged a few heated words in the well of the courtroom.
The trial had begun with opening arguments Thursday, 24 October 1985. I had been working at WNEW-TV/Ch. 5 in New York for about a year and a half. John Parsons, my News Director, had sent me to the opening. “You’re not getting anything in the courtroom. There’s no cameras. Bring back some flavor. And see if there’s a way to explain this complicated case.” Over twenty defendants, most from the Sicilian mob. No “names” the average viewer might know. Yeah. Piece of cake.
I approached Michael, and he remembered me. “So. You’re reporting now.” With a unstated mix of “good move” and “did you sell out” (fuck no). Off the record, he brought me up to speed. Turns out Kennedy was representing the lead defendant, Gaetano Badalamenti. Sicilian mob. I think Michael even gave me a bit of sound, for which I was grateful, because there really was no other way to break up my narrative.
The next day my boss, Parsons, sends me back. “No pressure. We’re not expecting a story. Just schmooze.” Ah, the good old days.
As I look for a seat in the courtroom, a defendant waves in my direction. I look around. No, he IS waving me over. Uh…
“I saw your story last night.” Who is this guy? Clearly a New Yorker, though.
“DON’T TALK TO HIM!” Fuckin’ Michael Kennedy. Of course. “HE’S A REPORTER!”
“SONOFABITCH, you know me!” Even the Marshals who despise the defense are starting to make that we’re-throwing-your-ass-out circling in move.
“Hey,” the mystery defendant says. “It’s all right.” That familiar raspy voice all these guys have. “I know his mother.” Turns to me: “Beautiful woman.”
“Beautiful woman”
“She must be very proud of you.”
It hits me that he really must know my family. Actually, my Dad’s brothers. Two of whom were Mob associates. My father had gone to them when I was about to do prison time to spread the word among the Wiseguys to cover my back. Which was surreal.
My family was from Spanish Harlem, El Barrio, back when it was a lot more Italian. Especially by Pleasant Avenue. Don’t mean any disrespect. But in the Thirties and Forties (and after), it was widely known that the Italian neighborhoods were also home to the Five Families. That’s not to say most Italians were Wiseguys. But. You know (This disclaimer brought to you by…). Even during the Young Lord days, that “connection” kicked in: one time my father used it to broker a truce. When my Uncle Pete died, Wiseguys were a presence at the wake, and funeral.
My uncle Pete Moreno
To this day, when I run into the Honorable Sterling Johnson Jr. (Federal judge, former Special Narcotics prosecutor etc etc) he asks: “Have you seen your uncle Orlando?” Pete’s brother. Had been his enforcer. When Pete died, freelanced. For Nicky Barnes. Y La Cosa Nostra. NO ONE even in our family saw Orlando. Unless, he saw you. Like when he suddenly materialized at my father’s funeral. (My boss at WCBS-TV/Ch. 2 at the time, Bill Carey, also showed up to pay respects that day. Unfortunately I had told Bill some family stories. “Uh Bill, this is my uncle Orlando.” Orlando looked like a dark-skinned version of that guy in Godfather II who’s a torpedo for Michael. Has that same Wiseguy rasp. “Hey. I hope you’re taking care of my nephew.” I think Bill turned another shade of white).
So, Day Two of The Pizza Connection trial. Me, Michael Kennedy, and This Guy. “So how is your mother?” “She’s fine. I’ll tell her you said hello.” I see Michael staring daggers. But I feel lucky. “Sir, during the lunch break, could you step outside? Like to talk to you on camera — - “
SMACK! He hit my cheek with force, and gave it a squeeze that is often an affectionate gesture. But not this time. “Hey kid: don’t fuckin’ push it.” “YessirofcoursesorryheyI’mgonnasitwayoverthereOK?”
As I walk through the benches, I catch Michael giving me a triumphant look, stretching to his full height. Motherfucker.
But hey: my motherfucker. No harm no foul. We ran into each other once and laughed.
Always amazed by the memories a scent. A feeling. An article. Can bring.
Rest easy, Michael.
The article:
“Michael J. Kennedy, Lawyer for Underdogs and Pariahs, Dies at 78”
By SAM ROBERTS JAN. 28, 2016
Michael J. Kennedy, right, outside the Alameda County Courthouse in California with a client, the Black Panther leader Huey P. Newton, in 1978. Credit United Press International
Michael J. Kennedy, who as a criminal lawyer championed lost causes and deeply unpopular defendants — including John Gotti Sr., Huey P. Newton and Timothy Leary — and finally won freedom for Jean S. Harris, the convicted killer of Dr. Herman Tarnower, the Scarsdale Diet doctor, died on Monday in Manhattan. He was 78…
Mr. Kennedy, right, at a news conference in 1982 with his client Bernadine Dohrn and her fellow former Weathermen member William C. Ayers, whom Ms. Dorhn married that year. Credit David Handschuh/Associated Press
Mr. Kennedy prided himself on membership in a reviled circle of radical lawyers from the 1960s on, including William M. Kunstler, Gerald B. Lefcourt and Michael E. Tigar, who could often afford to represent shunned clients at a discount because of the hefty fees they collected from defending organized crime figures. (Mr. Kennedy was said to have been paid $250,000 in the mid-1980s Pizza Connection drug-smuggling case; his client, a former Sicilian Mafia don, was convicted)…
In New York, as staff counsel for the National Emergency Civil Liberties Committee, he represented conscientious objectors, draft resisters and deserters, clogging the legal system by entering not guilty pleas and demanding trials…
Speaking of Mr. Tigar, Mr. Kennedy might just as well have been referring to himself when he said in 1995: “He understands that the way we measure the value of our justice system is how it treats society’s pariahs. It’s easy to treat the popular people well.
[Parts have been omitted for space. Link to full article is here:]
