The trial had been hard fought, as the Mayor indicated, and Ness had spared no manpower in protecting the witnesses-the local ones who were put up in hotels or guarded at home, as well as those who came in by plane and train from Milwaukee, Boston, St. Paul, Detroit, Kansas City, Buffalo, Syracuse, Chicago, and Columbus. And he had gotten the local papers to cooperate in extending his grand-jury press-photographer ban to the trial itself.
Of course, Caldwell and McFate had had a few tricks left up their sleazy sleeves. On the second day of the trial, Ness got a tip from Joe McFarlin that an attempt to fix one of the jurors was in the wind; a Nitti man had come in from Chicago with fifty thousand dollars in the kitty, to use in reaching a woman on the jury by way of her husband, who had business connections with Acme Brothers Glass.
Ness informed Prosecutor Cullitan, who dismissed the juror without disclosing he knew of the bribe-in-the- works, replacing the juror with an alternate. Judge Cortlett, hard-nosed and refreshingly honest for Cleveland, was also informed by Ness, after which His Honor sequestered the jury for the remainder of the trial.
Caldwell and McFate kept trying, though; they put together a thirty-grand defense fund. They brought in labor leaders from other cities as character witnesses. They testified coolly and even charmingly in their own behalf, both claiming never to have been in the same room before with star prosecution witness Vernon Gordon.
Midway through the trial, defense attorney Corrigan demanded that Eliot Ness be barred from the courtroom because he was 'impressing' the jurors with his presence. Judge Cortlett sent the jurors out of the courtroom and quickly denied the motion.
But the jury-six men, six women, primarily labor-union men and the wives of labor-union men-were not buying anything Caldwell and McFate had to sell. The two Jims were found guilty on all five counts, and the judge, God bless his stern countenance, had denied them bail and gave them both ten-year sentences.
At this point Judge Cortlett had taken an extraordinary measure. Speaking of the many precautions safety director Ness and Prosecutor Cullitan had taken to ensure an orderly trial, the judge pointed out that efforts had been made to influence the jury, including the apparent attempt to bribe one juror through her husband, as well as 'suspicious incidents' during the trial when friends and even spouses of the jurors took front-row seats in the courtroom, having to be ordered out when they tried to impress the jury members with their friendly, back-slapping attitude toward the defendants.
Because of these incidents, Judge Cortlett ordered the labor leaders sent to the pen immediately following the return of the verdict.
'They are dangerous to the community,' the judge said, 'and there is reason for witnesses to fear reprisal if these cunning thugs are left at large.' The two Jims were in prison at Columbus within eight hours of the guilty verdict.
Wanda stuck her head into the office and said, 'I'm sorry to interrupt you, Chief-but there's a woman out here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment.'
'Her name?'
'Mrs. Whitehall, she says. Shall I recommend she make an appointment for after you get back?'
'No,' Ness said, standing. 'Send her in.'
Mrs. Whitehall entered. She wore a dark brown hat and a long brown winter coat with a fur collar, apparel that was as quietly attractive as its wearer.
'Please have a seat, Mrs. Whitehall,' Ness said, gesturing to one of the conference-table chairs. 'Can I take your coat?'
'No,' she said. 'I won't be staying long.'
She stood, clutching her small purse, obviously embarrassed.
'Is there some way I can help you?' Ness asked.
She sighed and smiled awkwardly and said, 'I'm here to make a long overdue apology.'
'None is needed.'
'The night Jack died, I was pretty rough on you.'
'No apology is needed, Mrs. Whitehall.'
'You weren't to blame for Jack's death. Both Joe McFarlin and your reporter friend Sam Wild have gone out of their way to explain that to me.'
'Well… that's kind of them, but-'
'Mr. Ness. Please. This isn't easy for me. Joe, and Mr. Wild, made it clear to me that it was the Teamster activity at the food terminal that got Jack killed. And, in fact, it was you who brought Jack's murderer, that horrible man Gibson, to his demise.'
Ness felt a wave of weariness wash over him; he sat on the edge of the conference table and said, 'Mrs. Whitehall. I didn't intentionally cause the death of Harry Gibson. I was there to arrest him. Frankly, if I'd been more effective in my job, Gibson would've stayed alive, and we would have had the ammunition needed to put his bosses away for life, at least, or better yet, provide them a very hot place to temporarily sit.'
She smiled in a manner that crinkled her chin; she seemed to be holding back tears. 'You put those terrible men away. You worked very hard, and you put them in prison, this Caldwell and McFate. I followed it in the papers. I even went to the trial on several occasions.'
'I know. I noticed you there.'
'You've brought their house down. That's what's important. And Joe McFarlin tells me that, well, as he puts it, 'Democracy has been restored to the carpenters and glaziers unions.''
Ness smiled. 'Yes. I understand that's the case. A happy side effect of the investigation.'
'Jack would have approved, Mr. Ness. He would have approved your efforts. I know he wouldn't have helped you, otherwise.'
Ness couldn't quite bring himself to tell her that he'd essentially blackmailed her husband into helping him, holding that assault charge over Jack's head; but he did feel Whitehall would have been very glad to see Caldwell and McFate out of business and behind bars.
'I'm sorry I slapped you,' she said, and, impulsively, she touched his cheek; her hand was cool.
'It's all right,' Ness said. 'Really.'
'Thank you for… accepting my apology.'
'None needed. None needed. You know, we may still put Caldwell and McFate away on a murder charge. Gibson had an accomplice who drove a car for him when he tried to shoot me, a while back. If we can find him-'
'It doesn't matter. That would be fine, but you've done quite enough. You've done very well.'
The two stood and shared a stiff silence.
Then Ness, almost blurting, said, 'You should be proud of your husband, Mrs. Whitehall, what he accomplished with his life.'
'Even if you didn't always agree with his methods?'
Ness smiled one-sidedly. 'A lot of people don't agree with my methods.'
Worry touched her face. 'Mr. Ness, I'm pleased that you think I should be proud of Jack. But can I suggest one thing? Where labor is concerned, please be careful that your activities are such that my late husband might be proud of you.'
'Mrs. Whitehall, I'll make every attempt to-'
'No offense, Mr. Ness. But Jack was worried about you… about you living in that fancy castle they've given you, going to nightclubs and country clubs and all with society people. Someday they'll send you a bill, Jack said.'
'I'll… keep that in mind, Mrs. Whitehall.'
She studied him, her tears in check; then, following another impulse, she kissed him on the cheek, where she had once struck him.
Then she was gone, and he stood holding his face, recalling, for some reason, the burning sensation of her months-ago slap.
He sat back down at his desk and was finishing up some paperwork when the intercom buzzed.
'Another visitor without an appointment, sir,' Wanda said. She sounded uncharacteristically impressed. 'It's Cyril Easton.'
So it was time to hear from Cleveland's richest financier. To hear how pleased the city's industrial leaders were with his work on the labor racketeering front. He would accept the compliments graciously, but already he felt unsettled.
