From time to time I will try to offer stories from the golden years of law in Madison County. Not surprisingly, I begin with my father, Harry C. Armstrong, who practiced here for over 50 years. We lost him three years ago, but his spirit lives on. All he told me about the following story is that he successfully defended a soldier charged with polygamy in a court martial proceeding while stationed in South Korea and that his client was guilty, having had four wives at the same time. The rest of the story is my authorship in an attempt to capture the essence of the man. I ask those of you who knew him to let me know if I achieved at least some degree of success.
The Golden Years: Harry C. Armstrong
All the nurses loved him. On numerous occasions when I visited him at Meridian, I would catch him telling one of his favorite and legendary courtroom stories to three or four nurses – nervous Nellies who worried they might get caught slacking, but who could not resist risking their jobs to hear a good war story from Harry.
A story such as his defense of the infamous Ernie Andrew Jackson, charged with polygamy while in the Air Force. Harry was a judge advocate, commonly known as a Judge Advocate General or JAG. As it turned out, Ernie was fortunate to have Harry as his attorney in this court-martial proceeding even though Ernie was his first client…ever. This is how Harry held the nurses spellbound that day:
“I was fresh out of law school from the University of Illinois and had never tried a case in my life – not even a speeding ticket - until I was assigned to defend Ernie Andrew Jackson in a court martial proceeding at Kunsan Air Base, South Korea. Ladies, poor old Ernie was charged with having four wives…”
He acted very serious and looked down mid-sentence as though pondering his next thought, then looked up while making sure he made eye contact with every member of his growing Meridian audience and then finished his sentence.
“…at the same time!”
The pregnant pause got the reaction he was looking for.
“From his intake sheet, I knew Ernie was born and raised in Cumberland Furnace, Tennessee, a small unincorporated community about an hour west of Nashville, famous for producing cannonballs used by General Andrew Jackson in the War of 1812 down in New Orleans.”
Looking to the nurses, Harry said, “It appears Ernie’s parents were quite fond of General Jackson, wouldn’t you say?”
Wilma, one of the day shift nurses on duty, upon learning that Harry was on his A-game, whispered, “Trish, hurry and get Marcie and Grace. Harry’s telling a story.”
Harry continued, “Military rules of courtroom warfare permitted Ernie to request a jury of five military personnel to hear his case, but they also permitted Ernie to waive his right to a jury and have the matter heard and decided by one military judge.”
As the nurses gathered ‘round, a few of the inmates wheeled over as well and Wilma said, “What did you decide to do, Harry?”
“Well, the burden of proof in a military criminal trial is the same as in a non-military criminal trial – the case must be proven…”
“Beyond a reasonable doubt,” shouted Marcie as she approached the still growing audience, wanting to contribute something to the party while displaying her legal prowess.
“Yes, beyond a reasonable doubt to convict,” said Harry, “and, no question, Ernie was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. He was guilty beyond any doubt. The military produced four marriage licenses and no divorce proceedings were ever filed. Ernie was up the Geum River without a paddle.
“How on earth was I going to win a case that had no possible defense? The Air Force wanted six months in the stockade. Perhaps my only recourse was to plead Ernie guilty and ask for mercy from the court for much less time. But, Ernie wouldn’t want that on his record if I could help it.
“It was then that I recalled how I met the judge in the officer’s club on the base the week I arrived, several months prior to meeting good old Ernie. Country music was playing and the base commander, Colonel Mike Parnell, introduced me to the only military judge on the base, Judge Homer Purkey Phipps. When Gallopin’ Guitar came over the juke box, Judge Phipps said, ‘Hey, I know that guy. That’s Chet Atkins. Used to be a client of mine before I became a judge. They call him Mister Guitar where I come from.’”
So I said, “Where do you come from, Judge Phipps?”
Since the day Harry was sworn in as a lawyer to his last breath, Harry never called a judge by their first name, retired or otherwise. Whether a judge had a good reputation or a poor one, he always used their title out of respect for their office.
“Born and raised in Nashville, Tennesee,” the judge responded.
“Vandy Law School?” I asked, perhaps a bit too folksy, given that I had only known the judge for a few minutes, but meaning Vanderbilt University in Nashville.
“Yes, sir, and proud of it.”
“I’m not sure he heard me or that he cared, but I offered that I attained my Juris Doctorate at the University of Illinois. He didn’t reply, but, oh well, it was a bit loud in the lounge.”
“Bartender, pour my good friend his favorite whiskey on me,” I barked, as though I had been his friend for years, as though I had been on the base for years and as though I knew he surely liked whiskey, coming from Nashville, as though that had anything to do with his taste in beverage.”
“Jack Daniels Tennessee whiskey comin’ up,” said the bartender who obviously knew the judge’s preference. “And you, sir?”
“The same” I said.
“I didn’t feel like a shot of whiskey would cross the lines of professionalism, especially on a military base. Apparently, neither did he or the commander. Colonel Parnell, Judge Phipps and I had a great time after hours that summer of ’57.”
The Korean War ended in a fashion on July 27, 1953, when the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed. However, a Treaty was never signed. Theoretically, then, the war was still going on in ’57 and still goes on today, although fighting ended long ago. At any rate, by 1957 reduced tension of the times permitted some degree of loosely drawn lines.
Harry continued, “Now, ladies and gentlemen, you may be asking, ‘What did the humble beginnings of Ernie Andrew Jackson in Cumberland Furnace have to do with the proud Tennessee heritage of the judge?’ Maybe nothing. But, maybe - just maybe - the shared history of the two would help me help Ernie, especially considering the defense posture I was going to take at trial. Plus, I knew there were other events in Ernie’s past that just might help the judge endear himself to Ernie. Perhaps it was fate, but I decided to put all my eggs in the good-old-boy basket. I decided to waive a jury, trusting Ernie’s future to my new friend, the Honorable Judge Homer Purkey Phipps … from Nashville … one hour east of Cumberland Furnace … who liked Jack Daniels Whiskey.”
Harry paused and smiled. Nurse Pam rolled up another inmate who couldn’t hear a thing, but Pam wanted to get in on the drama while at least appearing to be on duty. She could claim to be working as long as she had an occupied wheelchair in her grasp.
“Of course, it is perfectly proper, indeed required, ladies, for a lawyer to prepare his client for his testimony at trial. That has a ring of deception to some. Far from it. So how does a lawyer prepare his client for trial?”
“Yeah, Harry, tell us,” said Wilma. She was really into it and looking for a Perry Mason ending.
“Well, first you want to let the client know what questions you, as his attorney, will be asking him so he’s not caught off guard. And, you want to have him provide truthful answers to those questions. Answers that hold up on their own … answers that do not lend themselves to any serious cross-examination if at all possible. And, finally, you want to anticipate questions from the prosecutor as best you can, again, so the client is not surprised.
“It didn’t take the military long to present its case. JAG Corpsman Marcia Williams simply placed Ernie’s marriage licenses into evidence…four of them…and rested her case.
“I didn’t have to legally call Ernie as a witness in his own defense, but I did. I had to. Practically, I had nothing else to offer. Ernie took the stand and was sworn to tell the truth by Judge Phipps.”
“State your name, rank and place of birth, please,” I said.
“Yes, sir. My name is Ernie Andrew Jackson, sir. I am an Airmen First Class, sir, and was born and raised in Cumberland Furnace, Tennessee, sir.”
Harry didn’t admonish Ernie to take it easy on the “sirs.” That was the way of the military.
Harry continued his story. “Now, Ernie, tell Judge Phipps, here, how many times you have been married.”
“Well, sir, I have been married four times, sir.”
“’And, tell us a bit about each of your wives, dates of the marriages, places where you were married and so forth,’ I said. I just wanted Ernie to get a dialogue going.”
“Well, I dropped out of school at age 16 and married my childhood sweetheart, Jenny Milam, also 16. We didn’t have to get married” - Ernie looked at the judge to make sure he understood – “we were just bored.”
“Ernie, was it legal to marry at age 16 in Tennessee at the time?” I said.
“Oh, yes. Our parents had to be in attendance. They were there. All were behind us…one less mouth to feed in each of their homes, you know.”
“Continue, please, Ernie.”
“We rented a double wide trailer in Cumberland Furnace and I worked a welding job in Dickson, Tennessee, a half hour drive to the south. The marriage didn’t last long. Six months later, Jenny just up and left me.”
“Ladies, I had told Ernie to use the phrase ‘just up and left me’ often and to pause after each use for effect,” said Harry to the Meridian folks.
“Please continue,” I said.
“Word got back she took up with a guitar player headin’ for Nashville. Didn’t even tell her folks she was leaving. Never heard from her again.”
“Awwww,” said nurses Trish, Marcie and Grace in unison.
The charm was working.
“How about wife number two?” I asked. “As there was no denying four wives, might as well make it abundantly clear that Ernie’s life was marriage-by-the-numbers.”
“Ernie answered, ‘Welding wasn’t for me and I heard of a good job opening at the Jack Daniels Distillery as a maintenance technician. I had to get my GED, but that wasn’t difficult. I met Marge at the distillery…Marge Odum. We got married at Cupid’s Chapel of Love in Gatlinburg. There were lots of wedding chapels in Gatlinburg, but this one was special – it had a waterfall. And, again, six months later, she just up and left me.”
Pause.
“Again, Ernie knew to pause for emphasis,” Harry told his audience in Glen Carbon.
“She sent me a card from Oklahoma City wishing me the best, but said she just couldn’t resist the security of an oil tycoon tourist she met in the Jack Daniels’ gift shop where she was working at the time.”
A couple of the nurses reached for a tissue on top of the decades-old donated upright piano in the corner.
“Did you have any better luck with wife number three?” I asked Ernie.
“Well, no sir. Number three only lasted two weeks before she just up and left me.” Pause. “Not for another man, or so she said. She wanted to become an actress and headed for L.A. on a Greyhound.”
“And her name?”
“He hesitated like he couldn’t remember – there had been so many and she was gone before the ink dried on the marriage license. So, I provided the answer. ‘Was it Wendy Withers?’”
“Yes, sir, that was it, sir – sorry.”
“And number four?” I asked.
“About six years after Wendy just up and left me” – pause – “I married Susan Marbury just before I joined the Air Force. She was a new hire at Jack Daniels.”
“Are you still married to Susan?”
“As far as I know.”
The nurses and attending inmates (those that could hear) laughed out loud as Harry raised his eyebrows at just the right time. In law, as in comedy, timing is sometimes everything.
“Now, folks, that answer inspired its intended outcome…full throated laughter out of the judge - just like it did here. And, that answer was scripted by me when I prepared Ernie for his task of winning over the only person that mattered, Judge Homer Purkey Phipps. That’s not deceptive – it wasn’t a lie – just good lawyering.”
“Continue, please, Ernie,” I said.
“She hasn’t up and left me like all the others. She writes letters to me on the base. Received one just today announcing she is pregnant with our first child. I’ve only been on the base a couple of weeks, so the math adds up, judge.” Wink, wink.
“Maybe this one will take,” said Ernie.
“Now, Ernie, did you tell Susan about Jenny, Marge or Wendy?” I asked.
“Nooooo siree, sir.”
“Why not?”
“Well, perhaps I should have. It didn’t cross my mind. None of them took up any space in my heart. Susan owned it all.”
“Now, ladies, at this point, I had to bring out the worst of the facts laid on my doorstep. You know, a good lawyer always acknowledges the hard truths.”
“Ernie, as you sit here at Kunsan Air Base, South Korea, over 7,000 miles and several years distant from your three prior marriages, tell Judge Phipps, here, whether you ever divorced Jenny?”
“I strung out the question to make it unmistakable that Harry Armstrong and Ernie Andrew Jackson did not fear the truth and would never lie.”
Ernie said, “No, sir, I did not…sir”
“Why not, Ernie?”
“Well, I figured since we didn’t own any property – I mean, she didn’t want my tackle box any more than I wanted her Perry Como 45s - and we didn’t have any kids, that when she just up and left me, that was the end of it, pure and simple. I never did one thing wrong to cause her to leave and she just up and left. Poof…gone!”
“How about Marge or Wendy, did you divorce them?” I asked.
“No, sir. Same reasons.”
“Thank you, Ernie.”
“I tendered the witness to Prosecutor Williams who had no questions. Why would she? Ernie admitted everything she needed to prove. Ah, but, Judge Phipps had a few questions of his own. Judges are permitted to ask questions, you know.”
“Peering down from his elevated position on the bench, he looked Ernie in the eye and asked, ‘Mr. Jackson, were you aware the law required you to get a divorce before entering into another marriage?’”
“Well, your honor, I figured I would have to get a divorce if I wanted out. But, when each of them just up and left, I didn’t even know how to reach them and I didn’t have any money for a lawyer, so I figured that was that. I guess I was wrong, sir…I mean judge, sir.”
“Are you willing to divorce those three losers if I cut you a break?” asked Judge Phipps.
That caused a few in the audience at Meridian to spontaneously applaud. I mean, you would think Harry was trying his case for the first time with the still growing Meridian crowd as his jury. It was the first indication at the real trial that Harry was going to win an impossible case.
“Your honor, I’ll do whatever Harry…oops, I mean Mr. Armstrong, and you want me to do to keep my record clean.”
“Again, the question was hoped for and the answer Ernie gave was planted by me,” Harry said.
“How long will you be with us…the Air Force, that is?” inquired Judge Phipps.
“Uncle Sam will own me for almost four more years…then, I’m headin’ home where I know I will have a family to return to.” Ernie looked at the judge and smiled ear-to-ear with pride.
“Do you think you will have a job waiting for you at the distillery when you get discharged?”
“I hope so. It’s a good place to work. The only reason I left was out of obligation to serve my country, sir. And, with Susan working there still, I think I may have an ‘in.’”
“I wonder where Ernie got the notion that it might be a good idea to express his love of country if given the opportunity? What do you nurses think?”
“He got it from you, Harry!” shouted Wilma.
“Hell, yes, he got it from me. You’re darn tootin’.”
“And, one last question, said the judge: Do you prefer your whiskey on the rocks or neat?”
With that, the Meridian jury was hoopin’ and hollerin’.
“Neat all the way, sir,” said Ernie.
“Atta boy! You may step down, Airmen Jackson. I will see the lawyers in my chambers.”
“I told Ernie what a great job he did on the way to see the judge. His experience in Lynchburg was my ace in the hole. They didn’t teach the law of camaraderie in law school. I learned that growin’ up on the farm in Delavan, Illinois.
“Attorney Williams and I settled into the Air-Force-blue leather chairs in the judge’s chambers. Vanderbilt Commodores logo was everywhere. A photo of his graduating law class was proudly displayed in the most prominent place on the wall behind him.”
“Judge Phipps began, ‘So, Mr. Armstrong, this seems like an open and shut case. Even a University of Illinois law grad knows that ignorance of the law is no defense to a criminal charge, right?”
“I thought to myself, ‘Well, even though I took a low blow from his attempt at credential humor, he did hear me when I told him where I went to school upon our first meeting at the officer’s club.’”
“Since I am trying this case without a jury, I see no need for formal closing arguments. If you and Ms Williams don’t anticipate an appeal, can we proceed on that basis without a court reporter?”
“Ms. Williams and I nodded affirmatively.”
“The Judge addressed the prosecutor. ‘Ms. Williams, I know what you’re going to say. I want to hear what Mr. Armstrong has to say about this admittedly unlawful act times three. Harry, I hope Susan hasn’t already left poor old Ernie without his knowledge.’”
Ladies, “He emphasized the phrase ‘poor old Ernie.’”
“What say you, sir?”
“The judge was expecting a good-old-boy defense which I could tell might wear a bit thin. So, I took a slightly different approach. I didn’t want to be too corny about Ernie’s background for, after all, Judge Phipps was born and raised in Tennessee as well.
“It’s not that Ernie is a simpleton,” I said to the judge. “In fact, I think he acted with a degree of wisdom beyond his years. He was too young and immature to marry the first three times, but understood he could not fund a divorce, he had nothing to divide, he had no kids to share and the first three nightmares just up and left him. (A long pause and smile from Harry). Judge, it was worse than a soldier getting a Dear John Letter from home…times three. Ernie had no advance notice he was being jilted by any of them.
“I ask the Court to dismiss the charge of polygamy – not because Ernie is a good-old-Tennessee boy – but because nothing good can come from a conviction on his record. He clearly understands the error of his ways, will take care of the formality of obtaining three divorces and has a family, now, to return to after he serves his country which his record reflects he has done rather well. Judge, while this man might deserve punishment, there really is no victim here and he does not deserve a potential dishonorable discharge; that is, your honor, in my humble opinion. I seek a dismissal of the charge, not an acquittal. Our law schools (yours, no doubt, and mine) told us they wanted to mold us into seekers of justice. I ask you with all humility, will justice best be served by a finding of guilt and life-long ramifications of such a result or by a dismissal of all charges and a Jack Daniels toast to Ernie, Susan and the future Baby Jackson over at the officer’s club, just you and I and Ms. Williams?”
“Ladies, I took a chance. I took many chances in my career. With Ernie, I took the chance that my offer to raise a toast would backfire. But, it didn’t. It was the home run swing I needed…the one Ernie needed.”
Harry’s smile was contagious. Nurse Pam let out a loud whistle and said, “Give ‘em hell, Harry.”
Harry said, “Folks, you will never guess what happened next. Before the judge responded, Prosecutor Williams raised an imaginary glass and said an Air Force toast out loud, ‘Aim High – Hooah!’ She later told me that going into the trial she could not believe I wasn’t seeking a minimal sentence on a guilty plea – say a month in the stockade, but that after my closing argument, she never wanted to lose a case so bad as she did that afternoon. Can you believe it? I actually had the prosecuting attorney on my side before the judge ruled!”
“So, Harry, what did Judge Phipps do?” said Wilma.
“He said, counsel, I suggest the three of us meet Mr. Daniels at the officer’s club at, say, 1800 hours. I will enter the order in the morning. Harry, tell Mr. Jackson to focus on his marriage and have a wonderful life. Charges dismissed. See you later tonight. And, oh! This time I’m buying, Harry.”
And, with that, Harry had all the nurses and inmates at Meridian applauding. Those that could were even standing. That was one of the good days at Meridian.
Tad Armstrong is an Edwardsville (Illinois) lawyer, founder of ELL Constitution Clubs (www.ellconstitutionclubs.com), frequent talk show guest, op-ed writer and author of two books on the Constitution: "It's OK to Say 'God"' and “ONE.” He can be reached at 618-978-4476.