J.T. Read online

  “I’ll see what I can do,” said Russo. “I’ll talk to Wright. You’ll be all right by yourself here, won’t you?”

  Johnny smiled. “Go ahead. I’ll be all right.”

  Russo opened a side door and entered the hearing room. Immediately he was engulfed in a babel of sound and a sea of people as he threaded his way to the counsel table.

  “May I interrupt you a moment?” Russo asked when he reached Wright.

  “What is it, Mr. Russo? I’m very busy,” Wright said curtly, looking up from his papers only for an instant.

  “I’d like to discuss my client’s reservations about—”

  “The hearing’s going to begin in a moment. You’d better get him ready.” Wright didn’t bother to look up.

  “My client refuses to testify,” Russo said flatly, annoyed at Wright’s rudeness.

  “What do you mean, he refuses to testify?” Wright demanded venomously. He suddenly became aware that several members of the press corps had turned to listen.

  “What’s happening?” Rogers asked, turning toward the commotion.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Wright snapped. He stood and moved quickly to the side, motioning Russo to follow him. The media people hovered, straining to catch their conversation. Wright realized that John Entrerri’s refusal to testify—even if he were cited for contempt—could be a major disruption of the hearings, could make them lose a great deal of force and drive, and that could make him look like a kid who’d tripped on his own shoelace. Over Russo’s shoulder, he noticed the chairman motioning to him, asking if it was time to begin the proceedings. “Excuse me,” Wright said, rushing forward, standing on tiptoe to whisper to the chairman, who leaned over the podium. Anders nodded gravely. Wright walked hurriedly back to Russo.

  “What the hell do you mean, Entrerri refuses to testify? I’ll have him tossed in jail so fast his head will swim.”

  “He’d prefer that to having his face spread all over the television screen.”

  “Is that it? The television cameras?”

  “That’s it.”

  Wright thought rapidly, his hand to his chin, ignoring Russo. The crowd in the room was getting restless. The noise was noticeably louder.

  “My client realizes that you’re putting on a sideshow here, and that he’s one of the main attractions. He’s not interested in being made a public exhibition. Even if that causes you to start contempt proceedings against him.”

  “You said that already,” Wright said impatiently.

  “Mr. Wright, I’m an attorney, just as much as you are. I—”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Wright said impatiently. He thought silently for a moment, shrugged, then turned to Russo. “Listen, Mr. Russo, if your client’s only worried about his face being on television, why don’t we stipulate that during his testimony his face won’t be shown?”

  “What?”

  “Let them televise the table top, his hands, his feet, the soles of his shoes, for all I care,” Wright explained. Secretly, he was thinking of the tremendous dramatic effect of Entrerri’s face not being televised.

  “That’s not what my client had in mind.”

  “Why not? His face won’t be on television, and he won’t be prosecuted for contempt. And more importantly, we get on with the proceedings.”

  “I think you took me a little too literally, Mr. Wright.”

  “We don’t have time for semantics. Either he gets going now or we get going with contempt proceedings. Mr. Boxer—” Wright called to Marty.

  “Yes, Mr. Wright,” Marty answered, sensing the formality of the moment.

  “Do you have those contempt papers I asked you to draw up in reference to John Entrerri?”

  “Yes, sir.” Marty walked back to the counsel table. He picked up a folder and began to leaf through documents inside. He selected one and came back to Wright. “Here they are.”

  Wright shoved the documents toward Russo. “Read these.”

  Russo took them and began to read.

  “You see, we’re ready for action this morning,” said Wright, “and frankly I don’t care whether the action is testimony or contempt.”

  Russo calmly read the proposed contempt application. He was impressed by the thoroughness with which Wright approached the hearings.

  The hubbub in the room was more intense. J.T. looked toward the chairman, who was staring back at him, waiting to gavel the hearings to order.

  “You can’t bring a summary contempt proceeding before this committee now,” said Russo calmly. Inwardly, he was anything but calm. “We’d be entitled to an opportunity to answer the allegations.”

  “I don’t have time for all these legal niceties right now. Just get your client into that witness chair, or stay inside the witness room and watch the contempt proceedings on television. If I’m wrong, you’ll have to prove it in an appeal court. Believe me, you won’t win here.” He turned toward the chairman, nodding, silently mouthing the word “okay.”

  Anders brought his gavel down resoundingly on the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen …”

  J.T. resumed his seat, leaving Russo standing in the aisle, the contempt documents in hand.

  “Mr. Wright—” said Russo, walking toward Wright.

  “What, what? Jesus Christ, more?”

  “If my client does testify, the camera will not focus on his face. Agreed?”

  “Fine. Marty, go talk to the camera crews, you know who to talk to. Tell them that for legal reasons, when Entrerri testifies, they can’t focus on his face.”

  “What?”

  “Just listen to me, all right? Tell them the tabletop, the floor, his hands, anything but his face. Come on, Marty. We’ve been delayed enough already.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen …” the chairman repeated, his gavel sounding again.

  George Russo walked back toward the witness room, where Gentleman Johnny waited. He carried the copies of the contempt papers that Wright had given him.

  The noise in the room was changing now. It was quieter, yet more intense, swirling into the corners of the room, under the chairs, filtering to the floor.

  “I saw you on television talking to that weasel. What did he have to say for himself?” Johnny asked.

  On a high shelf to one side of the room, Russo saw a television monitor showing the proceedings. It displayed a miniature reproduction of everything he had just left in the hearing room. The chairman was still gavelling the chamber quiet.

  “He said the television cameras won’t focus on your face. They’ll focus on the tabletop, on your hands.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “My face, my hands? What the hell’s the difference?”

  “The difference is that he’s ready to start contempt proceedings if you refuse to testify. Look.” Russo handed Entrerri the papers. “He’d love you to refuse to testify. He’ll start these hearings like a circus, with you as the featured attraction. What’s the difference if you take the witness stand? You’re not going to say anything anyway.”

  Entrerri read the papers.

  The chairman began making his opening statement.

  “I’m still going to take the Fifth?”

  “That’s right. They have the power to hold you in contempt if you don’t appear, but they can’t give you immunity, so you can still invoke the Fifth Amendment. Let’s beat him at his own game.”

  “The little son of a bitch.”

  “Call your first witness, counselor,” the chairman intoned at the end of his opening remarks. The television monitor showed a closeup of Anders’s mountain-rough features. The camera panned to the counsel table and a closeup of Wright reading legal papers.

  “That punk. I’d like to give him a punch in his mouth,” Entrerri said as he watched the monitor.

  “Let’s do what we have to do,” said Russo. “Do you have the paper I prepared for you?”

  “Right here,” Entrerri said, reaching into his inside breast pock
et. He glanced over the page again. “I repeat this after each question?”

  “Yes.”

  Boxer opened the door to the witness room and said, “Mr. Wright wants to know if you’re ready for testimony.”

  “Tell that little—” started Gentleman Johnny.

  “We’re ready,” Russo interrupted. “But the cameras are to stay off my client’s face.”

  “I took care of the television situation myself,” said Marty. “The television people assured me they would strictly follow counsel’s instructions.”

  “You think you can trust that Wright? Maybe he’ll double-cross us.” Turning to Marty, Johnny said, “They can’t take my picture as I walk in, either.”

  “I’ve instructed them to aim their cameras at you only when you’re at the witness table, and never at your face.”

  “The first witness, Mr. Chairman, is John Entrerri of New York City,” said the chief committee counsel, reading from notes on the table before him. The television screen showed the committee counsel table.

  The television announcer’s voice spoke in hushed tones from the monitor in the waiting room. Gentleman Johnny and Russo looked up at the screen.

  “… A most unusual situation is about to unfold here momentarily. John Entrerri—Gentleman Johnny, as he is better known—has refused to permit his face to be televised, for reasons that we do not now know. When Entrerri, the reputed head of gambling rackets in New York City and a high-echelon member of organized crime, testifies before the committee, you will hear his voice, but you will see only his hands. We are trying to find …”

  Johnny removed a diamond ring from the pinky of his left hand and unstrapped his watch, placing both items in his jacket pocket. He felt inside his pocket for the paper that Russo had given him, in case he needed it.

  “Okay, let’s get it over with,” said Johnny.

  George Russo walked first down the aisle toward the witness table, between rows of gawking spectators. He indicated a chair in front of several microphones for Johnny, and sat next to him.

  “Are those things working?” said Johnny, pointing to the microphones.

  “Assume they are,” said Russo, putting his hand over the one closest to him.

  “I can ask you a question if I want, can’t I?”

  “Certainly.”

  “What is your name, please?” the chairman began.

  “John Entrerri.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Pound Ridge, New York.”

  “What line of business are you in, Mr. Entrerri?”

  “Mr. Chairman, on the advice of my counsel,” said Johnny, “I respectfully decline to answer that question on the grounds that my answer may tend to degrade or incriminate me.”

  On the television monitor, a pair of clasped hands appeared.

  “… This is really unusual, as you can imagine, ladies and gentlemen. The witness, whom you cannot see on your screen, is just sitting with folded hands, and we are only permitted to take pictures of those hands. In a moment we will flash a still picture of Mr. Entrerri from our files, so you will have some idea of what Entrerri looks like. But you will not be seeing any live coverage of Entrerri’s face, or anything else except for his hands on the screen …”

  “Mr. Entrerri,” the chairman asked, “are you a citizen of the United States?”

  “Mr. Chairman, upon the advice of my counsel I respectfully decline to answer that question on the grounds that my answer may tend to degrade or incriminate me.”

  Wright was watching Entrerri intently.

  “Mr. Entrerri, are you married?”

  “Mr. Chairman, upon the advice of counsel I respectfully decline to answer that question on the grounds that my answer may tend to degrade or incriminate me.”

  “Are you, sir, sometimes known as Gentleman Johnny?”

  “Mr. Chairman, upon the advice of my counsel I respectfully decline to answer that question of the grounds that my answer may tend to degrade or incriminate me.”

  “Let me ask you this, Mr. Entrerri,” Wright interrupted, leaning forward across the table. “Is there any question you will answer before this committee and the American public?”

  “Most respectfully, sir, I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that my answer might tend to degrade or incriminate me.”

  “Is that on advice of counsel?” Wright prodded sarcastically.

  Gentleman Johnny shot a stiletto look to Wright as he moved an inch closer to the microphone. “Most respectfully, on the advice of my counsel I refuse to answer that question, too, on the grounds that my answer might have a tendency to degrade or incriminate me.”

  “Do you have any children, Mr. Entrerri?” Wright snapped, staccato and hard, taunting Johnny.

  “Most respectfully—”

  “I know, I know,” said Wright patronizingly, “you refuse to answer on the grounds that your …”

  The rest of what Wright mimicked was lost in the audience’s loud guffaws. Anders, fighting a smile, gavelled for silence.

  The television cameras, passing from the chairman to Gentleman Johnny’s hands, failed to pick up the menacing stare Johnny gave Wright.

  “Mr. Chairman, Mr. Chairman,” George Russo called loudly, to be heard over the crowd.

  “Yes, Mr. …” The chairman’s eyes searched his desk for the piece of paper with the lawyer’s name.

  “Mr. Chairman, I realize these hearings are public, are being televised on national hookup, and as such there is some theatrical aspect to the proceedings. However—”

  “Just a minute, counselor,” reprimanded the chairman, not wanting to lose face before millions. “These proceedings are most serious indeed, and I believe that your comments are intended to cast aspersions on the character of this committee.”

  “Mr. Chairman, neither my client nor I mean to be disrespectful of this committee. However, may I ask that your counsel—or should I say junior counsel—accord some respect to the Constitution of the United States.”

  “The Constitution?” Wright chimed in, his face screwed into a frown.

  “As I understand the Constitution,” said Russo, “my client enjoys certain rights and privileges, one of which is the Fifth Amendment prohibition against compelled selfincrimination. Now I’m not sure, but it seems your junior counsel is, by inflection and attitude, ridiculing the constitutional privileges of Mr. Entrerri.”

  “That’s a scurrilous smokescreen,” countered Wright, “fabricated to allow Mr. Entrerri to make a mockery of this committee and the very Constitution his lawyer is parading for television.”

  “Mr. Chairman,” said Russo, “I’ve made an objection to the proceedings and I’d appreciate your advising me as to whether a witness before this committee, invoking lawfully and rightfully a constitutionally sanctioned privilege, must be subject to the taunts and derision of counsel?”

  The chairman hesitated.

  “He can hide behind it if he has to,” Wright injected caustically.

  “Mr. Chairman, are you conducting these proceedings according to American law or according to Mr. Wright’s distasteful need for national publicity?”

  “I advise you, counselor,” the chairman said gravely, “not to mock these proceedings yourself. I think we’ll all get along fine if everyone observes the usual protocol. Let’s proceed.”

  The television audience saw Gentleman Johnny’s hands calmly folded into each other, waiting for the next question. Nothing had happened that he hadn’t expected. He and Russo had both known that Wright would try to make a production out of his invocation of the Fifth Amendment. They had discussed it together and agreed upon a strategy of passive repetition of the Fifth, regardless of Wright’s antics. Russo sat back momentarily, the onslaught abating as the participants took a breath and a pause to reevaluate.

  “We both got a little too involved,” Russo whispered, leaning to Johnny, covering the microphone with his hand.

  “I know. That—” Johnny hesitated, lest the m
icrophone pick up what he was going to say about Wright, then went on, “He gets to you after a while.”

  “Mr. Entrerri, are you a member of an organized crime family known as the Pasquale Bedardo family?” J.T. hurled at Gentleman Johnny.

  “Most respectfully, on the advice of counsel, I decline to answer on the grounds that my answer might tend to degrade or incriminate me.”

  “Is this Bedardo family one of five organized crime families in the New York City area?”

  “Respectfully, on the advice of counsel, I refuse to answer on the grounds that my answer might tend to degrade or incriminate me.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Wright,” the chairman interrupted. “I’d like to ask Mr. Entrerri some questions, and I know my colleagues also have some questions they’d like to ask.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Chairman,” Russo said. “I’d like to confer with my client first.”

  Anders nodded.

  “Now they’re going to get down to specifics,” Russo said to Gentleman Johnny, automatically covering the microphone with his hand.

  “I know. Now they’re going to parade out families and names and all that other garbage the newspapers write.”

  “Don’t let it bother you. Just keep taking the Fifth,” said Russo. “Their questioning may go on a long time.”

  “Let them go on forever, I’ll sit here and repeat the same thing.”

  “In a couple of questions, answer by saying ‘same answer,’ instead of repeating the whole thing over and over.”

  “Just say ‘same answer’?”

  “Right. See if we can cut this short, not make it seem so long and drawn-out.”

  “Okay, counselor.”