Background for Fraud

CHAPTER XV 
BACKGROUND FOR FRAUD 
NOMINATION OF JAMES E. FOLSOM as Governor of Alabama on May 4, 1954, will forever be shrouded in the murk of suspicion. Did he win that office fraudulently or not? 
The very suspicion itself is an unhealthy symptom. While vote fraud is difficult to prove without the confession of a participant, all the signs indicate that Folsom marched to the statehouse in Montgomery over a road hobbled with tampered ballots. This took place probably without Big Jim's full knowledge, and it has no reference to the thousands of honest citizens who case their ballot for him because, to them, he was the best man in the race. 
Illegal ballots are racked up in many ways. A vote can be bought with a quart of whisky or five dollars or less from a sorry citizen who sells his franchise without realizing he also is mortgaging his liberty. Whisky was used for this purpose and in vast quantities in Walker County. Votes can be subverted by preventing the opposition from casting a ballot by force or threat; by refusing to qualify him as a voter; by failing to put his name on the eligible voters' list; by discarding his choice after the polls close; by tampering with the official figures; by adding to the correct total of the favorite and/or subtracting from the tally of the competition. Of all the varied methods by which a vote can be put into a tailspin, a private citizen can alter returns only by force, threat, payment, or with the connivance of an official. In every other circumstance the deceit is practiced by a public official who has not only taken an oath to protect and defend the rights of the individuals but who is paid by the community for his loyalty, 
Folsom won his landslide nomination with the alliance of city and county functionaries. The scheme succeeded because the people permitting the stealing in some counties controlled both their county and the investigative machinery which ordinarily would check accusations of falsification. 
The day before the election, a Birmingham gambler predicted that Folsom would win without a run-off and boasted that he had $45,000 riding on that prophecy. 
At midnight on May 4, more than one-half of the ballot boxes in the state had announced returns. Folsom, at that point, had forty-four percent of the total vote. But in nineteen small counties, the vote was just beginning to arrive. 
Geneva had reported only one out of twenty-nine boxes, Marion, two of thirty-nine; DeKalb, one of sixty-two; Walker, fourteen of seventy-one. 
These nineteen counties gave Folsom sixty-one percent of their vote. That bulge put him in without a run-off and his final total came to fifty-two percent of the statewide vote cast. 
In Folsom's home county of Cullman, one of the nineteen which was slow in reporting, only eleven of forty-four boxes were reported at midnight. At that point the returns from there suddenly ceased. The next morning, a Cullman official telephoned the Associated Press office in Birmingham to inquire how many votes Folsom needed to win without a run-off. The big Cullman County Courthouse box of more than 1,000 votes had not announced results but Folsom by now was out in front of the pack. 
Earlier on election night, after Lieutenant Governor James B. Allen conceded the race— he was in third place— he received practically no more votes although 100,000 ballots remained uncounted. 
In North Alabama counties the Folsom margin of victory suddenly jumped from about sixty percent to ninety percent of the total ballot in those counties. 
The word was out, in the governor's race, that if five votes in each box could be added to the Folsom total. Big Jim would win on May 4. That, of course, did not happen, but it indicates the pattern of fraud. 
Private Investigator Fred Bodeker of Birmingham received information that the Phenix City mob diverted $1,500 it had received for the Folsom campaign and used it instead for Lee Porter in the Attorney General's race. The money wasn't needed for Foisom, the gamblers told Bodeker, because Folsom had enough funds. 
This ties in with the overall pattern of fraud as engineered from Phenix City. In the race for Attorney General, MacDonald Gallion was in second place. At his home in Montgomery, Gallion received a telephone call asking if he won the Attorney General's post in the run-off would he cooperate with Folsom. Gallion refused a deal. 
Of the last 8,000 votes counted, Gallion had only 57. Porter went into second place and the stage was set for the Phenix City story. 
The sudden drop in Gallion's vote alerted Birmingham Attorney Albert Rosenthal to what might happen. For that reason, he was on hand on June 2— after the run-off—to watch the official count of the Jefferson County vote, where 600 votes later were stolen. During that count, Rosenthal detected an error of 3,800 in Porter's favor and had difficulty getting the official counters to correct the error. 
Extent of the vote fraud was evidenced by indictments or reports that all was not right at the polls in such counties as Jefferson, Lamar, Russell, Marshall, St. Clair, Escambia, Walker, Talladega, Marengo, Washington, Lowndes and others. 
This is reminiscent of the story a Birmingham judge recalled concerning the presidential election of 1928. Staunch Democrats worked the polls in Alabama and many of them realized their candidate, Al Smith, faced a tough fight from the Republican aspirant, Herbert Hoover. Came closing time and one returning officer at a box said to a watcher, "Houstice, how many votes th' Demmycrats gener'lly git here?" 
*' 'Bout a hundred and twenty," Houstice allowed. 
"How many's th' GOP git?" 
"Ah reckon 'bout three," Houstice said. 
Filling out the official papers without bothering to count the ballots, the returning officer said, "Th' vote in this here box is one-twenty fer Al Smith 'n three fer that other
fella." 
The word "satchelman" has been used in Phenix City to denote a character who passed out money to persons who vote right. Folsom has his own breed of satchelmen, better labeled as "satchel senators'* because they are members of the present State Senate. They are high level messenger boys and efficiency experts who cart campaign funds from one point to another. 
At least the money comes under the heading of election contributions. In Folsom's first administration, the donations passed hands when no election was taking place. Ten thousand dollars was sent to Montgomery from Phenix City shortly after the hat had been passed among the racketeers earlier. The messenger, now dead, faced an angry group of gamblers, one asking in effect what had happened in Montgomery to require more dough so soon. 
During his 1954 campaign, Folsom ignored all accusations that he had received kick-backs and that thousands of dollars in unreported funds had been deposited in his bank accounts while he was governor in 1947-51. His only comment was to "plead guilty" to all current or future charges. In keeping with his public character of being an overgrown country boy fighting the city slickers, his answer delighted his audiences. 
Six months in Phenix City is enough to convince even the most idealistic that many individuals in public life have their price. That is not to say that all public officials are lacking in trust, and those who go wrong make it exceedingly hard on the honest man. The would-be loyal servant may well feel that if he's going to be tabbed with guilt by association he might as well gain something, as the others are doing. But many hold out, 
A former Jefferson County official, who did not seek reelection last year, has demonstrated the rugged honesty that isn't found too often. Attorney Lawrence Dumas, Jr., for eight years a member of the State Legislature, returned theater passes sent to him after an election. His sense of integrity and obligation would not permit him to accept even that small gift. 
Money is not the only way a public official can be "got." Many shrewd operators control city and county commissioners by being nice to them; taking them to dinner, throwing parties in their behalf, entertaining them on a week end hunting trip. The official feels obligated to his host. When a matter affecting his companion arises, the official knows how he Is expected to rule. For the man in civil life, being nice to his customer is smart business. 
But what did the talking in Phenix City was not friendship, or social obligations. It was hard cash. 
The accepted modus operandi of winning over a new sheriff is a cut and dried proposition. An old buddy calls on the sheriff. They shoot the breeze for a while, then the caller usually reaches into his pocket. 
"Sheriff," he says pleasantly, "a couple of th'
boys want to have a little crap game down at Dixie Avenue. Joe Doak's place. Nothing big, ya know. Just a friendly li'l game, but it'd embarrass some of th' fellows to get pinched." 
He pulls his hand from his pocket and drops $I00 or $500 or $5,000 on the desk and riffles it. 
"You got any ideas how they can manage that game, Sheriff?" 
No bribe has been offered in so many words, but the idea has been planted. The tactic can be repeated until it succeeds or until the sheriff warns the man to get out and stay out. Once the sheriff reaches for that stack of chips, he's gone. 
Organized crime is on the march in his county. He can't stop it because he's part of it. Perhaps he spends a few sleepless nights with his conscience. Then he finds a way of justifying his action to himself. Law enforcement in his county practically ceases at that point, except for arrests of the defenseless, and the spasmodic publicity raids. Whenever you find that the really big fish have no trouble with the law while the little guy is being mistreated, your county is in trouble with the underworld. 
From observation and information available, it would appear chat a great number of sheriffs' offices and city police departments in Alabama are corrupt to some extent. Corruption, in this sense, includes failure to act against political associates even though no funds have been exchanged. 
In the authors' own county of Jefferson (where Birmingham is located). The Bessemer area is under the dictatorial control of a clique composed of men holding law enforcement positions and elective offices. The area, a separate political subdivision of Jefferson County, has long been a hot spot of vice, bootlegging and gambling, illegal punchboards have been displayed openly in restaurants and honky-tonks; liquor and beer can be purchased on Sunday in a score of places. Law enforcement is lax, often to the point of being nonexistent, and officials in the populous Birmingham district have been powerless, or generally unwilling, to crack down firmly. 
In one instance, a Birmingham Police Commissioner Eugene (Bull) Connor, entered the Bessemer city limits to raid the office of Mickey Flandell. Connor picked up a Bessemer officer en route on the raid but didn't tell him where they were going. Flandell's safe contained a note written by a Bessemer woman, complaining of the gambling to Sheriff Holt McDowell in Birmingham. In McDowell's handwriting on the letter was a note to Chief Deputy Clyde Morris, in Bessemer, that the letter was forwarded for Morris' information. Morris holds his job by appointment of McDowell. How Flandell got the message never was explained. McDowell, ruggedly honest himself, would have fired the man responsible had he been able to pinpoint him. A Grand Jury probe was made but nothing came of it. 
The Flandells had a lease wire coming into their office from Little Rock, the same city which supplied racing news to Phenix City. So did Johnny Connors in Montgomery, but in Mobile the race wire was dropped in from New Orleans. 
Reporters probing Bessemer inevitably find citizens too frightened to talk and witnesses who dread appearing before grand juries, 
Tuscaloosa, with outside help, has recently busted up a ring of twenty years' standing which had been operating out of Northport. Its specialties were gambling and bootlegging. 
Shelby and St. Clair Counties permitted J. O. (Little Man) Powell to run lush gambling houses unmolested until Circuit Solicitor Conrad (Bully) Fowler, another top-notch honest official, sent Powell down the river for a year. 
Gaming stamps and slot machines are in Baldwin County, unless recently removed. Mobile has had wide open gambling and prostitution. In Crenshaw there was gambling. Walker has had more than its share of bootleggers, as has Etowah County. 
Montgomery is not as rambunctious as it once was, but bets on horse racing and ball games can be made if you know the right people. Selma has been a little Phenix City. The lottery has run wild in Dothan. 
One of the worst counties in the state for political undercover work is Geneva, on the Florida border. Floridians even have voted in Geneva just as Georgians had been voting in Russell County. The situation in Geneva is worth examining. 
Geneva was one of the nineteen counties which was slow in releasing poll returns on May 4. The county is under the thumb of big-nosed, sour-faced E. C. (Bud) Boswell, a political despot. His position Is being challenged by a newcomer, Neil Metcalf, thirty-four, a state senator. Because of Metcalf's youth and ex-State Senator Boswells age, Metcalf should win out sooner or later. Both Boswell and Metcalf are Folsom supporters, Grade A, first class. 
Eddie George, former editor of the weekly Geneva County News, recently waged a continuing expose of Boswell's past, which indicates that no pardon ever was given Boswell following a July 15, 1913, conviction for false pretense. When George asked Boswell if he was ever pardoned, Boswell was quoted in the weekly as saying "Get that from the d —
source of your other d — information in your d — newspaper." 
Records at the State Archives and History Building fail to show the date civil rights were restored to Boswell, George said. If these rights were not restored, Boswell is not a qualified voter; could not hold public office; could not practice law— all of which he has done since 1913. 
When Boswell said the pardon was given to him by the late Governor Henderson, George inquired at the Governor's office for records bur none were forthcoming. The Pardon and Parole Board is without files prior to 1939. On September 30, 1954, Boswell wrote George: 
"I am a qualified voter of Box 1, Beat 10, Geneva County, Alabama, and entitled to hold any office to which I am elected. The citizens of Geneva County, with whom I have lived and worked, voted and held public offices for the past 50 years, are satisfied of that fact and I will defend my status and rights if and when they are legally attacked." 
Boswell claimed that the Geneva County Board of Registrars passed upon and upheld his citizenship and right to vote at a public hearing on the fourth Monday in August, 1914, "and my status and rights have not been questioned since." 
Boswell also pointed out that George had misquoted him in relation to the pardon from Henderson. The data which George compiled was turned over to Circuit Judge Walter B. Jones, president of the Alabama State Bar Association, on September 23, 1914. Judge Jones said they would be given to a bar committee for study and for any action the committee might decide would be advisable, It is understood that the committee probably will take no action since Boswell's reported conviction occurred before he was admitted to the bar. 
Boswell, since 1923, has been chairman of the Geneva County Democratic Executive Committee, which counts the ballots and performs similar party functions. He was elected to his ninth consecutive term as chairman in 1955. While all the committee members are elected in public vote, Boswell has obtained his chairmanship without running for election to the committee, which simply votes him in as chairman for term after term. 
His control, or influence, extends to the circuit solicitor's office where his son, Edward W. Boswell, is in charge, Boswell's brother-in-law, R. S. Ward, is county probate judge. 
Editor George wrote in his paper that "most widespread of charges by the 'man in the street' appears to be that of vote fraud. Many citizens have stopped voting, they said, because 'I know that my vote would be thrown away.' " 
Boswell said that it appeared to have been George's purpose to try and destroy him, because Boswell is a strong advocate of white supremacy, while George opposes segregation in any form. He declared that George has been on the borderline of criminal libel and what he has already said warrants civil action for libel and slander. 
"But my information is that Mr. George is judgment proof," Boswell said. "Public records should disclose all the facts necessary to disprove the charges he has made in his paper, but if he is unable to locate the proper records, that is no fault of mine, and I do not propose to help him get out of a bad situation which he got into of his own accord." 
Getting back to Phenix City, it is recognized that organized vice on such an imposing scale could not flourish without protection from the top. Not only Folsom but former Governor Gordon Persons has played coy with the state of affairs. Examples are found with ease. 
In 1950, Philip J. Hamm ran for governor as Folsom's anointed successor. Word reached Russell County from Montgomery that if the county failed to back Hamm, the state would put the screws on Russell for the next seven months of the administration, Russell was one of five counties out of sixty-seven which supported Hamm. 
After Hugh Bentley's home was bombed on January 9, 1952, and before the May primary of that year, members of the Russell Betterment Association visited Governor Persons at the capitol. The Governor had been saying privately that Bentley bombed his own residence, although Mrs. Bentley, her two sons and a nephew were inside at the time. This information had reached the Governor from investigators he had sent to Phenix City. Like all other apologists for Russell County conditions, the Governor called the RBA members fanatics, and exhibited little respect for them. Despite the attitude of the Governor, the RBA asked for his help, 
"What could you boys do if you had an honest election?" the Governor inquired. 
Governor," they said, "that's all we want. Just one fair election." 
All right, Persons promised, they would have a fair election. 
He sent extra highway patrolmen into the county at vote time. It happened that State Representative Pelham J. Merrill was running for the State Supreme Court with Persons' blessing. His opponent was State Senator Lawrence K. (Snag) Andrews, who was tagged as a Folsom candidate, although Andrews later denied the label. The race became one between Persons and Folsom rather than between Merrill and Andrews. Russell County, along with the majority of Alabama, cast its ballots for Persons' choice. 
During the election, Bentley and his son, Hughbo, along with RBA leader Hugh Britton, were attacked at the polls and beaten by thugs. Another mobster scuffled with Tom Sellers, of The Columbus Ledger, and Phil Kriegler, of Station WGBA, was knocked down while he had one hand in his pocket. 
Ray Jenkins, of The Ledger, said an officer had given permission for Photographer Ann Robertson to take voting pictures but he withdrew the authority after the fight. 
The election was one of the worst Russell County ever had. 
Towards the end of 1953, after Folsom let it be known he was going to run again, the pinball population of Russell County increased rapidly. They were going full blast by January of 1954. This coincidence of timing could have been just that— a coincidence, but it seems unlikely. 
When a "phantom wire tapper," as described in another chapter, recorded telephone conversations of Chief Gambler Hoyt Shepherd, he turned up with several relating to the 1947-51 administration of Folsom. In one talk, Shepherd admitted to a friend that the Phenix City crowd had not supported Folsom in the 1946 campaign. 
"We're his first love now," Shepherd added. 
"That sonuvabitch's getting it everywhere, ain't he?" asked the man on the other end of the telephone, 
"I don't know if he is or not," Shepherd replied, "but it's all around him." 
On June 18, 1954— the night of the Patterson murder—Russell County Legislator J. W. (Jabe) Brassell went to Governor Persons' office and, without seeing the governor, asked an official if the state would raid the county that night and stop some of the gambling. Hardly had Brassell departed when Russell Sheriff Ralph Matthews, Jr., was advised of the conversation. 
There was a grand scheme to this whole production and, when put under the microscope, it is a frightening spectacle. Phenix City was the focal point of viciousness in Alabama. Although located geographically on the eastern side of the state, it was as if it were in the very center, the hub of a giant wheel whose spokes reached out to every precinct and voting box. 
What the Phenix City crowd visualized was control of the entire Democratic Party machinery in the State of Alabama which Governor Folsom now has seized. This they proposed to accomplish by the aid of corrupt officials already working with them and a continuing flow of money. Success would have meant that practically every prominent state office holder would have been both beholden and subservient to the Phenix City mob. The vote, the wishes, the welfare of the private citizen would have ceased to exist. To some degree, the underworld already had settled on working arrangements with various officials before the complete agenda had matured. 
We laugh at a little illegal gambling in a remote county and consider it unimportant, as being too far removed to affect us directly. But when this gambling horde reaches for seizure of the state, as it always and inevitably does, the matter ceases to be laughable. 
Tainted funds from Phenix City coursed through all sixty-seven counties in the 1954 election. In some areas, the gang encountered men who rebuffed them. For some reason fear or a misguided sense of loyalty— these attempts were not always reported. A man can steal a shirt and the wheels of justice start turning, but let someone steal a vote or an election and he walks on hallowed ground, 
G. Berry Pittman, tax assessor of Russell County, and an old man, testified on July 16, 1954, that machine control was at its worst that year. He swore that $72,000 was raised for the machine's 1954 political war chest. 
A "timetable for fraud" indicates very clearly that it was no accident when Lee Porter, with a 70,000 vote deficit in the May 4 primary, pulled to within a whisper of beating Albert Patterson in the June 1 run-off for Attorney General. 
Men and the machine worked for the month of May trying to put Porter in office by fair means or foul. They were determined to beat Patterson at any cost. 
To get the plot in focus, it must be noted that three men competed for the office of Attorney General on the Democratic ticket in the first primary, Patterson was thought to be bringing up the rear. Political forecasts pictured the contest as going either to Porter or MacDonald Gallion. 
Gallion depended upon the big business and the silk stocking crowd to put him in, while Porter thought the labor unions and the close race he had made against Attorney General Si Garrett, four years earlier, would be the deciding factor in his favor. The machine was having one of its periodic feuds with Patterson but gave only scant attention to his race. Shepherd took $1,500 channeled to him from a person in Mobile he would not identify, and which had been for use in Folsom's race and gave it to Porter. The $1,500 Shepherd told the unidentified Mobile donor with Porter standing by, was not needed in the race for which he had originally contributed.it. The Mobilian consented to transferring the funds to Porter. 
Gallion was not entirely innocent either, according to both Shepherd and Godwin Davis Sr., surly, tight-wad member of the Phenix City clan, who said Gallion sought the machine's help. Shepherd said he put Gallion off by saying he would have to take it up with the courthouse. Gallion claims he, like many candidates, visited Phenix seeking what few votes he could get, knowing his journey was practically worthless, but sought no machine aid. 
Patterson's relation with the mob, as a citizen of Phenix City, was odd, as described in the chapter on his murder, his emergence as the leader in the May 4 primary race for Attorney General startled the criminal element. Gamblers realized on May 5 that Patterson was so far in front they could not beat him in the first race, but they did go to work to whittle down his lead. 
This resulted in pushing Gallion out of second place in favor of Porter, so they would be in position to beat Patterson in the June 1 run-off with a candidate over whom they could exercise control. 
The Phenix City crowd found it had a somewhat disillusioned candidate. Porter was discouraged, doubtful of raising the money for another campaign, uncertain of his chances in overcoming Patterson's 70,000 vote lead. He seriously considered conceding the election. 
Then on May 8, Solicitor Arch Ferrell, Sheriff Mathews and Mayor Elmer Reese visited Porter with more encouraging visions of the future. The threesome told Porter they wanted to go all out with him against Patterson. A day later. Porter met Ferrell and Attorney General Garrett in Montgomery to perfect arrangements for the next three weeks of intensive politicking. 
[As this was going on, Sheriff .Mathews traveled to the counties of Madison, Dallas, Macon, Baldwin, Escambia, Autauga and several others to make what he later termed his personal political survey of the race. He also spent time talking with numerous sheriffs, soliciting their votes for Porter.] 
If Porter had thought he was his own man, he learned differently. Garrett set himself up as chief strategist. Working as Garrett's right hand man and as chief liaison between Garrett and Phenix City was Solicitor Ferrell. Heading the Phenix City organization were Shepherd and Ferrell. 
On May 11, Porter registered at the Redmont Hotel in Birmingham for himself and "Edward Johnson of Eufaula, an alias for Shepherd. Attending a council of war to arrange a bill of particulars were Porter, Shepherd, Ferrell, and Davis. Chairman Shepherd called the meeting to order and a roundtable discussion was held over the merits of the two candidates and the controversy confronting the man the empire planned to establish as the people's choice: Lee Porter. It was decided to make Phenix City and Phenix City gamblers the issue. 
Porter was advised to paint the cut-throats as a vile, corrupt, greedy clique— which they were—who had thrown their fortunes behind Patterson— which they hadn't. Details settled, Chairman Shepherd nodded at Sultan Davis who handed $10,000 to Porter. The candidate gave $5,000 to his advertising man to begin the flow of literature, and the battle was joined. 
Later Porter gave the advertising man $2,500 in two payments. Another session at the Redmont was held on May 19 when Porter met with Shepherd, Ferrell, Davis, and Jimmy Matthews, who was Shepherd's business partner. This time $8,000 changed hands with Lee Porter paying it all for advertising expenses. 
Neither Irvine Porter nor the advertising man were told the true identities or business of the Phenix City gamblers. 
Phenix City cash continued to arrive. Shepherd and Davis sent another $4,600 to Porter in Mobile on May 24, and $4,000 to him in Montgomery on May 26, Flying from Mobile to Birmingham on May 28, Porter had a stop-over in Montgomery where Garrett and Ferrell met him with $11,800, Russell County Deputy Sheriff John Pitts arrived on May 29 with a measly $230 from Garrett and Ferrell, with which Porter was to telegraph solicitors throughout the state, over Garrett's signature, that their help for Porter was appreciated. Total cash contributions from Phenix City came to $28,630, 
A. B. (Buck) Billingsley had donated $2,000, Robert C. (Shorty) Myrick had fattened the kitty with the same amount; Godwin Davis forked over $1000 each, for himself and son, Junior. Other lottery operators, whoremasters, and dope pushers kicked in with similar shares. 
While all the jack was being put on the line for Porter, Gallion declared on May 14 that he was going to support Patterson. He joined with Patterson and Patterson's staunch friend, Howard Pennington, in stumping the state. Patterson's strength came not from groups but the individual voters. He would walk the country streets and shake hands with everyone he met. Many of these people he appointed his local campaign manager and sometimes had as many as twenty campaign chiefs in one county. 
In Montgomery, Garrett summoned all the solicitors of the state to a meeting and said they were to discuss the school segregation problem. The announced subject did receive some discussion, primarily by Garrett who, as usual, dominated the meeting. He took time to trace the ancestry and political fortunes of many of the solicitors. The meeting adjourned for lunch and it was at this gathering that Garrett launched into a three-hour dissertation in behalf of Porter's candidacy. 
Lunch consisted of steak, served about 4 p.m. 
Garrett, working like a Trojan, violated rules of the state merit system to send two employees of his office around the state in behalf of Porter. The employees were in the peculiar position of knowing that what Garrett asked was wrong but how do you go about telling the boss you won't carry out his orders? 
Garrett sent the two to Rockford, Talladega, Anniston, Arab and other cities where they contacted individuals with the request that they take out newspaper ads saying in effect that Big Jim Folsom endorsed Porter for Attorney General. Folsom personally declared his backing of Porter before the campaign ended. 
On May 15, the two Russell County members of the lower house in the State Legislature took a step which was to prove of utmost importance in busting open the Phenix City machine. The members, J. W. (Jabe) Brasseil and Ben I. Cole, had been defeated for re-election in the May 4 primary. They filed an election contest against their opponents, V. Cecil Curtis, a scrawny- necked, buck-toothed, barrister, and William Belcher, another attorney who soon wished he had never heard of politics. 
The machine backed Curtis over Brassell. At first, it threw its weight to Cole rather than Belcher but Cole insisted that the group also string along with Brassell. When Cole wouldn't alter his demands, the machine left him in favor of Belcher. In accepting machine support, Belcher agreed to recommend Ernest Allen, a fairly decent fellow, for a place on the county jury commission. 
A hearing on the contest election was set for June 3. In the meantime, campaigning for the Attorney General's race continued hot and heavy until the election, June 1. 
Polls scarcely had closed the night of June 1 before early returns relayed to the syndicate the bad news that Porter was trailing Patterson, although the margin was much less than in the first election. 
Garrett and Ferrell were frantic. Despite all their efforts, physically and financially, they were about to be defeated, Garrett knew what to do. On June 2, he made forty-two long distance telephone calls, most of the recipients being professional politicians. Among the prominent persons he contacted were State Senator-elect Neil Metcalf of Geneva County; Sheriff Matthews in Phenix City; A. Lamar Reid, chairman of the Jefferson County Executive Committee, in Birmingham, (called twice); Bruce White, Reid's brother-in-law and law associate. 
The following day, Garrett's telephone lines were kept hot. He telephoned Metcalf and eleven other persons. Ferrell took the telephone himself and contacted, among others, Bruce White and "Edward D. Johnson," the Shepherd alias. 
This last call to Shepherd swung the Phenix City dominion into full brute force. The Brassell-Co!e election contest had opened that day. Curtis and Belcher were represented by State Senator Andrews and Phenix City Attorney Homer Cornett. Belcher, through Andrews' legal ability, had been almost assured of his seat by nightfall, The Brassell-Curtis affair still was pending. 
Having received the news from Ferrell that Porter was trailing by 1,454 votes, Shepherd got hold of Belcher. He told Belcher he had just talked with Ferrell and that if it was necessary to steal ten or fifteen votes in every county, that was going to be done. Shepherd instructed Belcher to go see his attorney, Andrews, and get Andrews to pick up votes in Bullock County where he lived and where he was secretary of the county committee. Belcher at first refused, saying both he and Shepherd would get in trouble and, besides, he added, Andrews wouldn't do it. On sober second thought, Belcher agreed to approach Andrews because he didn't want Shepherd and the machine sore at him. 
About 2;30 a.m., he awakened Andrews where he was sleeping at the Ralston Hotel in Columbus, told him he had a matter of utmost concern, and wanted to see him immediately. In a few minutes he joined Andrews and explained what had happened. 
The senator turned him down flatly. As long as he was secretary of the county committee, Andrews declared, there would be no vote changing in Bullock. 
But Belcher and Andrews were only part of the link Shepherd was forging. He found other men more agreeable. Gambler Stewart McCollister and two companions left at once to see Willie Kirk, a political luminary in Macon County. Kirk directed them to the home of Frank Porter, county health officer, and a brother of Lee, They wanted to know who composed the county committee. Frank said he didn't know, but escorted the men to Sheriff Preston Hornsby, who got the idea they were looking for votes and were willing to pay, but he rejected the deal. 
From Macon, McCollister and his pals drove to Bullock, Barbour, Calhoun, Talladega, and Pike Counties. Eleven carloads of Phenix City hoods had scattered to the remaining counties. Each car carried a payload— a total of $30,000 with which to bribe any official who would change returns for them. The price varied from ten dollars to one hundred dollars a ballot. An estimated 30,000 votes were stolen in one way or another— some prior to that night— for Porter. 
On June 4 in Birmingham, Chairman Reid agreed to an alteration of the official figures so Porter's total would he upped by six hundred votes. Arrangements were being made in other counties to alter more votes. 
On June 5, Garrett, Ferrell, Senator Metcalf, and Frank Long, then president of the pro-Folsom Alabama League of Young Democrats, figured it would be propitious to pay their respects to Folsom. They persuaded Folsom's driver, John Drinkard of Cullman, to take them to Sealy Springs, near the Florida boundary, where Folsom was vacationing. The Governor-Nominate refused to see any of them, so the story goes, except Drinkard. This reported refusal appears most questionable, since Ferrell was Folsom's campaign manager for Russell County. 
All the efforts by the gamblers were futile. Patterson, on June 10, officially was declared the winner by 854 votes out of 382,678 cast. 
Patterson charged that "fantastic sums" had been spent to beat him. Porter fired back, branding as a "false and deliberate fabrication" accusations that the Phenix City crew had offered $30,000 to officials who would alter votes in his behalf. 
In the meantime, the Birmingham Grand Jury, on June 10, began its probe of the six-hundred-vote steal in Jefferson County. As the facts unfolded before the jury, the gangster empire began to feel the hot breath not only of defeat but of retribution catching up with them. Patterson knew of their deeds and had promised to clean up Phenix City when he became Attorney General. 
Porter advised the Phenix City wheels that he had been summoned before the Birmingham Grand Jury, and Godwin Davis paid him a call. He told Porter to swear that the Phenix City gamblers had put only $3,500 into his campaign. It was too late for that. Porter, having seen the light, had revealed the entire operation— as much as he knew— to the jurors. 
Like the Russian secret police who sneak around on their duties in the dead of night, Davis returned in a few days to bang on Porter's door with another request. He yanked a piece of paper from his pocket. 
"Arch (Ferrell) wants you to write down the answers to all these questions about what you told the grand jury," Davis said. 
Porter complied. 
Only a smattering of the behind-the-scenes maneuvering had been even hinted at publicly when the contest hearing between Brassell and Curtis resumed at the Russell County Courthouse in Phenix on June 14, following a ten-day recess. Brassell's lawyer was Harold Cook of Birmingham, a good-natured, conscientious attorney who has made a specialty of election laws. From witness after witness Cook drew forth testimony showing how the Phenix City machine strong-armed its way into election victories at home. It bought votes, it distributed falsified sample ballots, it stacked the polls with machine officials. 
The first open airing of the stench was unfolding. A witness related that Chief Deputy Sheriff Albert Fuller marked ballots all day long while he wore a gun on his belt. Negroes were herded into the Sheriff's office where Fuller instructed them how to vote. Voters were driven to the polls in taxis and dismounted without paying any fare. 
In one election, a cabbie discharged a bunch of prostitutes at the polls. One of them got halfway to the booth, then sauntered back to the driver. 
"Say, honey," she said, "what'd you say my name was?" 
Rugged Howard Pennington, the tall, stoop-shouldered carpenter who had ironclad guts and was president of the crime-fighting RBA, took the witness stand at the hearing. 
"Arch Ferrell," declared Pennington, "is the director, and he's the brains behind the Russell County machine. He's the one who collects the money. He's the head." 
The gamblers' ticket, Pennington said, was made up by Ferrell, "Buck" Billingsley, "Buck" Day, Shepherd, Davis. C. O. (Head) Revel and his brother Hiram J. Revel. 
A great one for denials, Ferrell said he hardly knew whether to feel complimented or insulted by Pennington's remarks. 
"He is certainly over enthusiastic in his estimate of my amount of brains, and in placing me as head of any political organization other than as chairman of our Russell County Democratic Executive Committee," said Ferrell, 
The next day, on June 15, a restaurant operator named E. B. McCann testified that he had been summoned to Ferrell's office during the campaign and told that his share of the donations would be five hundred dollars. 
These revelations, coupled with the Birmingham Grand Jury's accumulating interest, was too much for a couple of the boys. Glen Vinson, who had been on Folsom's scandal-ridden Pardon-Parole Board in the latter part of Folsom's first administration, and John Pruitt, of Talledega, went to see Big Jim in Cullman. The two convinced him the situation had never been hotter, even in Death Valley. Further probings, they contended, would lead to embarrassment for many more people, especially those close to the incoming Governor. No doubt the argument got through to Big Jim. 
Folsom set up a four-way telephone conversation. On his end was himself, Fuller Kimbrell, his campaign manager-now the state's director of the Department of Finance— and Rankin Fife, now the Speaker of the Alabama House of Representatives. Albert Patterson was on the other end. Folsom offered to get Lee Porter to drop his plans for a statewide vote contest, assured Patterson that the Attorney General's offiice would have sufficient funds during Patterson's tenure of office. For his share, Patterson was asked to work with Folsom the next four years and to exert his influence in halting the inquiries of the Grand Jury in Birmingham. Patterson, having pledged in his campaign to cooperate with whoever was elected Governor, agreed to both conditions. A telegram confirming the arrangement was sent to him from Cullman. 
Patterson telephoned his friend, Birmingham attorney Albert A, Rosenthal. He asked if the Grand Jury probe could be stopped. 
"Hell no," Rosenthal declared. 
"That's all right with me," Patterson said, "I was just asking, as I had promised." 
On June 17 maneuvering was at its zenith. 
The hearing contest for the legislature between Brassell and Curtis was adjourned. Belcher already had won his seat. Senator Andrews was feeling pretty good about the chances of Curtis, his client, retaining the post. Judge Roy Mayhall of Jasper and Judge Frank Embry of Pell City had informed him, he said, they were so far inclined to rule with Curtis. Hobdy Rains, Gadsden attorney, the third member serving on the committee with Mayhall and Embry to hear the contest, had not expressed himself. 
Patterson predicted to a men's club that his chances of being sworn in as attorney general were about one hundred to one. 
And Porter asked Folsom for an audience. Porter didn't know whether Garrett was planning for him to contest the election but he did know he himself was discouraged and anxious to get settled, Porter journeyed to Montgomery. He was invited to Charlie Pinkston's home, where Folsom was enjoying the companionship of his dose associates. Pinkston had been Folsom's campaign manager for middle Alabama. Porter told Big Jim he was broke and needed a job. Folsom said if that was all that worried him, to forget it. Drop the plans to contest the election, Folsom said, and he would give Porter a job as his lawyer for North Alabama at a salary of five hundred to six hundred dollars a month, and would also throw legal business his way. 
But the next night— June 18, 1954— the roof collapsed. 
As Albert Patterson got tiredly into his automobile, a killer's bullets blasted out his life. The white hot glare of publicity was focused on Phenix City and its underworld and the men who collaborated with it. 
The swelling expose of conditions helped make Brassell's contest against Curtis more believable and Curtis eventually lost the seat before he ever got to sit in it. Belcher was tossed out and replaced with Cornett, his attorney in his hearing against Cole. Solicitor Ferrell and Sheriff Matthews lost their new four year terms which were to begin in January, 1955. 
The Phenix City crowd did not become active only in 1954. One of the syndicate boys said $25,000 a month was shipped to Montgomery for protection for at least eight years. With Folsom in office, Alabama faces the distinct possibility of a powerful political dynasty controlling the state for years. This will be the first truly potent political machine Alabamians have had during the twentieth century. Because there has been no statewide political clique previously, Alabama has been unlike many other states. The man who could win the state's top office had to be something special in the way of a politician, or else get all the breaks, 
Alabama Democrats have been divided a long time. It has been North against South and the small counties against the large counties. City folks and farmers have differed. More recently there have been the Loyal Democrats, the States Rights Democrats, and the Republican Democrats. Labor and business have gone their separate ways; big business and little business had different viewpoints on many matters. Any man who could poll a majority of so diversified a group deserved to be Governor. 
A political machine will change all that. A machine is not formed to lose an election. Winning office becomes a science of stolen votes, frightened civil service employees, and intimidated small fry who had better vote right or else. If the machine Folsom is building is a real machine, as there is every reason to suspect, Folsomism will haunt Alabama long after Big Jim is dead, just as the ghost of Huey Long still roams through the bayous of Louisiana politics. 
Whether Folsom could have beaten State Senator Jimmy Faulkner in an honest run-off is a question that never will be answered. One thing is certain. The men around Folsom were taking no chances. 
The Folsom myth of just Plain Jim, of constantly fighting for the underprivileged, will be spoon fed with vigoro. He is surrounded by demagogues and spellbinders who know the hates and the loves of an audience and how to appeal to both sides; who mouth half truths and paint false pictures. 
All politicians are familiar with the breed. In the Folsom camp, the number is excessive and the pasty-faced courthouse old-pros, who have been nourished all their adult life at the till of the public trough, are ready to gorge in the years of plenty they see ahead. 
Alabama has been shoved into a new era. We'll weary of it before it grows tired of us.