William Katz: Equal justice under Hollywood law
Occasional contributor Bill Katz now posts daily at Urgent Agenda, though he saves his longer reflections on life and politics for us. Most recently he reflected on American popular music in "Real music -- remember?" Today he returns to the subject of Hollywood, where he spent part of his career working for Johnny Carson and The Tonight Show:
There’s a guy in Hollywood who got into a legal jam a few years ago. I’d rather not name him, but, when I read about it in the papers, news of his trouble did not shock me, for our paths had crossed earlier. He’d been the only person, during my tenure at The Tonight Show, who’d offered me a bribe. Well, maybe “offered” isn’t the precise word. He’d made it clear he was offering me a bribe, but stated it in such a way that I could never prove it. After stumbling around, his exact words were, “You know, this could, well, how should I put it – it could be very pleasurable for you.” As a speaker of English, he was never confused with Churchill.To comment on this post, go here.I laughed off his generosity, didn’t book the act that he wanted me to, and gave up the chance for either a cash reward, or whatever it was he had hidden behind the curtain.
I thought of that episode while reading about the latest celebrity arrest in Tinseltown. One of the first things you hear when you work out there is that there are two legal systems in Hollywood -- one for stars, the other for the peasantry. After all, Hollywood is a company town, and the company has influence.
Now, not all stars avail themselves of the perks of Hollywood law. I recall the day that Fred DeCordova, our Tonight Show producer, had a party for the staff. Jack Benny dropped in and, embarrassed, admitted he’d just been given a ticket for making an illegal U-turn. Jack, if he wanted to, could be the same person off-stage as on. Getting a ticket was too good a setup for him simply to be a party guest, and for 20 minutes he had us in stitches, recounting his experience with an L.A. cop. He paid the ticket, naturally pained by the price -- he thought three dollars would be fair -- and never sought to get out of it.
But wait. Is there really a Hollywood law? Or is it part of an exaggerated image of an industry widely seen as sleazy and overprivileged? The answer, definitively, is yes and no. When you actually look at the record, you find that, yes, stars are treated differently, but not in the manner you might think. If they seem to get away with murder, it isn’t because the law is looking the other way, it’s because of two things: First, they can afford the best legal talent. Second, the juries adore them. It’s the public, through its purchase of tickets and its service on juries, that is more responsible for “Hollywood law” than any action or inaction by the D.A. It was juries that acquitted O.J. Simpson and Michael Jackson. The prosecutors had come down on both of them.
There’s always been an understanding in Hollywood: Stars can get away with little things, but they’re going to be indicted for big things. If the charge is rape or murder, there’s little a studio, TV network, or publicity agent can or will do for you. A classic example is one of the most famous cases in Hollywood history -- the 1943 statutory rape trial of Errol Flynn. Flynn, for those of you below a certain age, was, in his time, Harrison Ford times about four or five. He was the star of action-adventure films known as swashbucklers, and there was plenty of swash to Flynn’s buckle. He played Robin Hood on the screen -- his most famous role -- convincing many admirers that he really did rob from the rich to give to the poor.
He also liked the ladies, and they would introduce him to their friends. That’s where the trouble began. One of those friends turned out to be Peggy LaRue Satterly, billed as a “dancer,” but actually a high-school kid. Even for Robin Hood, fooling around with a high-school girl presented heavy legal problems. The Hollywood of 1943 had a production code, and a morality code, and statutory rape was over the line.
As he described it in his book My Wicked, Wicked Ways -- a title that does not build confidence -- Flynn was at home when two cops knocked on his door and informed him of the charge. No special treatment there. The story got out quickly. It was huge. It was bigger than World War II, which happened to be going on at the time, although Flynn, a man of military age, seems not to have noticed.
The special treatment started with the grand jury -- a panel of high-minded citizens whose high minds didn’t prevent them from refusing to indict Flynn, claiming they didn’t believe the charges. But a provision in California law allowed the district attorney to override the grand jury, which he did, dunking Flynn back into very hot water. Flynn would later claim that the D.A. was corrupt. He’d also claim, later, that he was asked to write a ten-thousand-dollar check to get out of the charges. But no evidence has ever been presented to back those claims.
Errol Flynn stood trial for statutory rape. To defend him he chose Jerry Giesler, said to be the highest-paid lawyer in the country. Giesler had won fame, according to one author, by “making cold-blooded murderers appear to be the innocent victims of a cruel society.” He’d successfully defended renowned musical director Busby Berkeley, who’d killed three people while driving drunk. Giesler convinced the jury that the tires were at fault. He would later become an equally renowned divorce lawyer, representing Marilyn Monroe in her dugout troubles with Joe DiMaggio.
Giesler understood that the jury created Hollywood justice. He was meticulous in jury selection, working the process to pack the jury with women, who, he believed, would stand by their hero Flynn. One woman, later quoted as saying, “I’m for Flynn in a big way,” made it onto the jury, which had nine women and only three men.
The trial was spectacular, a theatrical event. People in Washington, D.C., rushed to the Capitol each day to see the Errol Flynn trial. What they actually saw was the confirmation hearing for Edward J. Flynn, who’d been nominated to be ambassador to Australia. Look, Errol, Edward, what’s the difference when you’re excited?
We haven’t got space here to go into all the machinations of the trial, but Giesler was brilliant, using the love of a jury and Flynn’s star power to win the case. Giesler later said that Flynn was the best witness he ever had. Flynn, in his autobiography, says, “Maybe he meant I made the most skilful liar under oath.” It was one of several hints he gave that he was actually guilty.
The jury at first divided 10 to 2 for acquittal. The two holdouts? Naturally, it was two men. They capitulated to the women. Ace lawyer Giesler had been right again, and Flynn walked free.
It was Hollywood justice in the most classic sense -- a great lawyer manipulating a jury that wanted to be manipulated because it adored its star. So next time you hear about Hollywood justice, don’t necessarily blame the police, the D.A. or the judge. It’s you and me on those juries, and juries believe what they want to believe.
The Errol Flynn case was probably the only Hollywood trial that created a cliché. After Flynn was acquitted, anyone who could squeeze out of a jam or win against the system was said to be “in like Flynn.” Or O.J. Or Michael.
To comment on this post, go here.
