Gideon's legacy - Small-time criminal had big impact on the law

HANNIBAL, Mo. -- Think of a hero and the Clarence Earl Gideon type probably doesn't come to mind. Not even in his own hometown.

This same northeast Missouri community that spawned the great author Mark Twain and the Titanic's "Unsinkable" Molly Brown also produced Gideon, an eighth-grade dropout and career criminal who spent most of his life in and out of jail cells.

Yet hundreds of people in the legal community are gathering in Washington, D.C., Tuesday for a symposium honoring Gideon, who 40 years ago changed the course of legal history.

Gideon, then a 50-year-old vagabond, landed in Florida in the early 1960s and found himself in a familiar spot -- in trouble -- accused of burglarizing a pool hall. Flat broke, Gideon demanded a lawyer, saying that was a constitutional right. He was wrong -- there was no such guarantee. Without an attorney, he was convicted and sent to prison.

Wrote Supreme Court

While incarcerated, Gideon wrote a letter to the Supreme Court, making the case that anyone accused of a crime should be guaranteed the right to an attorney, whether or not he or she could afford one.

On March 18, 1963, the Supreme Court agreed in the landmark Gideon v. Wainwright decision. His story was the subject of Anthony Lewis' 1964 best-seller, "Gideon's Trumpet," and a 1979 made-for-TV movie of the same name starring Henry Fonda.

Granted a new trial, Gideon's conviction in the pool hall burglary was overturned.

"It really is startling to think that just 40 years ago, someone could be sent to prison without counsel," said Kate Jones, indigent defense counsel for the Washington-based National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers, which is sponsoring the Gideon symposium. "Whatever his personal history, Gideon was very persistent and courageous in raising this important constitutional issue.

"It's a remarkable story and shows how much one person can affect change."

Charles McAlister owes a debt of gratitude to Gideon. McAlister, of Shelbina, near Hannibal, was charged in 2000 with rape. Unable to afford a lawyer, public defender Raymond Legg was appointed to his case.

McAlister was acquitted. He said that without a lawyer, he most certainly would be imprisoned today, perhaps for life.

Legg "saved me," McAlister said. "The lawyers argued back and forth on what was admissible. It was all new to me."

McAlister said he had never heard of Gideon. "I guess without him, there's a good possibility I'd be in jail."

A juvenile delinquent

Gideon was born in Hannibal in 1910. His run-ins with the law began when he was a child.

"He was a juvenile delinquent," said Tom Motley, a Hannibal attorney and a local expert on Gideon. "He was always getting into trouble, as a juvenile and as an adult."

In Hannibal, Gideon stole a shotgun, robbed a candy store, broke into and stole from a clothing store and committed an assortment of other, mostly minor, crimes.

It wasn't all petty thefts. Framed in Motley's office is a confession to Hannibal police signed by Gideon on Oct. 4, 1934. In it, Gideon admitted that he, his brother and other men stole guns from an armory, robbed stores and planned a bank heist. He spent three years in a federal prison for the crime, one of four felonies for which he was convicted over the course of his lifetime.

With that kind of history, it is perhaps understandable why Hannibal hasn't embraced this native son. This town so rich in history has no plaque honoring Gideon, no ceremony planned to mark the anniversary of the landmark ruling.

"He created a vast improvement in criminal justice," Legg said. "I think we need to recognize that. But sometimes we have a tendency to create heroes too easily."

Motley agreed.

"I'm not sure the community feels all that connected to him," Motley said. "If I had to pick a hero, I'd stick with Samuel Clemens.

"But I'll tell you this: 20 years from now, most people won't remember the names of the justices on the state supreme court or appeals courts. But they'll remember Clarence Gideon."

Poolroom burglary

Gideon was long gone from Hannibal by 1961, when he was accused of breaking into the Bay Harbor Poolroom in Panama City, Fla. In "Gideon's Trumpet," Lewis wrote that though only 50, Gideon "bore the physical marks of a destitute life: a wrinkled, prematurely aged face, a voice and hands that trembled, a frail body, white hair." Jailers, Lewis wrote, considered Gideon likable and harmless, "but one tossed aside by life."

This pathetic figure's almost inexplicable rise to immortality began behind bars. Using prison issued notebook paper similar to that used by schoolchildren, and writing in pencil, Gideon made a case that the Supreme Court could not ignore.

"Gideon's punctuation and spelling were full of surprises, but there was also a good deal of practical, if archaic, legal jargon, such as 'Comes now the petitioner ...," Lewis wrote.

Based on Gideon's letter, the Supreme Court agreed to hear the case and appointed Abe Fortas, considered one of the best lawyers of his time, to represent him.

"Clearly, the Supreme Court was ready to hear this," Motley said. "It's all about timing, and Gideon came at the right time."

In its unanimous ruling, the court held that "any person hauled into court, who is too poor to hire a lawyer, cannot be assured a fair trial unless counsel is provided for him. This seems to us to be an obvious truth."

Granted a new trial, Gideon's conviction in the pool hall burglary was overturned.

It didn't change his fortunes for long. He died penniless in 1972 and was buried in an unmarked grave in Hannibal's Mount Olivet Cemetery.

Twelve years later, he finally got a tombstone, donated by the American Civil Liberties Union, as a handful of Hannibal lawyers held a brief ceremony.

On a brisk morning in March, a sole visitor brushed snow off the small marker to read the inscription: "Each era finds an improvement in law for the benefit of mankind."

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On the Net:

National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers: www.nacdl.org.