Briar Patch
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LEGAL EAGLE
WHEN THE WHITE HOUSE HIRED University of Texas Law School professor Charles Alan Wright as "official consultant counsel" for the President on Watergate matters, an audible murmur could be heard in legal conference rooms across the land. A Texas attorney and long-time Wright-watcher remarked, "That may be the best break Richard Nixon has had since Eagleton beat Farenthold."
The 47-year-old Wright is one of the most able and the most agile constitutional law scholar in the United States today. His professional specialty—the constitutional basis for federal court jurisdiction—is central to the President's emerging defenses of executive privilege and separation of powers. One senses that Wright approaches his task with the same sort of measured awe that diplomatic historian Henry Kissinger is said to have felt when he was called upon to transform his own academic theories into the hard stone of contemporary fact. Scholars usually must content themselves to let their theories, those great syntheses in which they take such pride, trickle slowly and unpredictably into the world of practical affairs. Most lawyers dream of becoming judges; few succeed. Wright's White House duties afford the tantalizing privilege to shape the law, to write a new chapter in his own treatise on the federal courts, that is otherwise reserved only to the members of the United States Supreme Court itself.
Ironically, it is the members of that Court whom Wright must eventually persuade, if his defense of Nixon is to become part of American constitutional law. While that is no easy task (the issues must first be pushed into the courts by Congress, which has formidable constitutional allies itself), many of the lawyers' murmurings these days concern the remarkable degree of respect which the members of the Court have shown for Wright.
Some years ago, quite by accident, we happened by the Supreme Court chamber in Washington while Wright was making one of his infrequent oral arguments. The case involved a double jeopardy prosecution by the State of Texas; Wright represented the indigent defendant. In the course of winding up his presentation, he magisterially fielded questions from Justices Hugo Black and William Brennan: not a word out of place, not a superfluous syllable. Finally, silence. Mr. Chief Justice Warren: "Professor Wright, you still have a minute and a half of your time left. Is there anything you would like to add?" Pause. The tall, ramrod-straight professor soberly attired in a three-piece suit surveyed the Court. "No, your honor; I believe that is all."
The black-robed Chief Justice drew back almost imperceptibly (rare is the lawyer who fails to fill his every available moment before the Court with words); then he visibly relaxed and smiled. "Well, Professor Wright," he said amiably, since we have a moment, I would like to congratulate you for your fine presentation today. We know how interested you have been for so many years in the constitutional questions raised by this case; you've given us a brilliant discussion of them." Attorneys for the State sank low in their chairs. "We know how busy you are, Professor Wright, what a busy schedule you have, and we certainly appreciate your taking the time to come here today and discuss these issues with us."
Wright, of course, won the case as he is accustomed to doing, and that is the point of the story. If the Court is asked to decide, and does decide, that Congressional investigators may not constitutionally insist upon access to presidential papers and White House aides, its decision is not likely to be shaped by such simplistic reasoning as the fact that several of its members were appointed by Nixon himself. The "Nixon Court" is a convenient fiction for the press, but the concept fails to leave room for the rigid sense of duty and self-respect that the justices feel when confronted by landmark issues like these. Much more likely their ultimate decision will be influenced by sheer persuasiveness of a lawyer whose books they themselves have read, whose presence commands their respect, who knows how to put together an argument the Court will buy.
OBSCENITY ON THE HOME FRONT
THE U. S. SUPREME COURT ruling that just about anything can be considered obscene so long as local community standards say it is has generally been greeted in Texas with a rousing chorus of yawns. While in Dallas a panel of film watchdogs declared objectionable Peter Bognaovich's new movie "Paper Moon," which contains such startling words as "smart ass" and depicts such decadence as a nine-year-old girl smoking, the rest of the state took its obscenity in stride.
In San Antonio for example, where movie exhibitors have continued to refuse even to entertain the idea of showing a film such as Deep Throat, since they aren't prepared to assume the legal fees that would inevitably accompany screening it, there weren't any dirty movies to be jerked off the screen, except perhaps by Dallas standards. But that didn't keep Bexar County Dist. Atty. Ted Butler from trying. Working under a nuisance law that requires some citizen complaint before the DA can take action, Butler sent the San Antonio police vice squad out beating the bushes, hoping to come up with some complaints. He finally got one from one of the downtown merchants: "No, the dirty movie places aren't bothering me," the merchant said. "What's bothering me is all the police coming around to ask if the dirty movie places are bothering me."
Every town in Texas from Houston to Luling has its own festival each year, pushing the local product whether its oil or watermelons, but there's only one Texas Folklife Festival.
Presented for the first time last year at the Institute of Texas Cultures in San Antonio, the festival is a composite of some 80 of the various festivals that are presented around the state, all with an aim of showing the diversity of Texas' ethnic and national origins. Displays of Polish Christmas decorations are next to samples of Cajun food alongside demonstrations by one of the few remaining men who can make a rope out of horse hair.
But what gives the festival a special style is its lack of commercialization. There are some things for sale, but mostly it's food from 'possum to enchiladas. Most of the festival is devoted purely and simply to demonstrations of how Texans of all types used to live. They are fascinating and don't cost a thing except for the nominal gate admission.
Institute of Texan Cultures/ HemisFair Plaza/ San Antonio/ Sept. 6-9.
Operation Gemstone
Remember that fossil fern you found while plowing in Bryan; that blue rock you plucked from the banks of Big Sandy? The 20th Annual Houston Gem and Mineral Show this month has a free identification service for fossils, rocks, and minerals; bring it and see what they say.
The show also has down-to-earth exhibits featuring hundreds of representatives from the national underworld, including rare gems. You can watch demonstrations of faceting, tumbling, sawing, and silver-smithing.
Among the special exhibits are a collection of cameos (including a spectacular specimen from the collection of Benito Mussolini), a group of topaz specimens from the University of Texas, a display of Biblical gems, and a demonstration of jewelry-making.
20th Annual Houston Gem and Mineral Society Show/ Sept. 21 thru 23/ 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. (to 6 p.m. Sept. 23)/ Shamrock Hilton Hotel Hall of Exhibits/ Houston/Adults $1.50, children 50¢.
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