Mike Espy Bruised But Unbowed - former secretary of the U.S. Department of Agriculture

Ebony, April, 1999 by Charles Whitaker

A federal jury cleared his name, now the former secretary of Agriculture picks up the pieces of his life and career

THE Windsor Ballroom of the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Jackson, Miss., is packed with politicians--mayors, city council members, state legislators and a smattering of university presidents and trustees. They are assembled for the annual banquet of the Mississippi Legislative Black Caucus' Political Education and Economic Development Foundation. It is your typical grip-and-grin gathering where officeholders and office seekers--Black and White--jockey for position in the political pecking order and solicit support for upcoming campaigns. The centerpiece of this event is the keynote address, usually a stump speech delivered by a local luminary or some figure of national note.

Two years ago, banquet organizers and attendees were all aflutter because they'd snared Johnnie Cochran, fresh from his triumph in the O.J. Simpson trial, as their main speaker. This year, the enthusiasm about the keynote address is just as palpable, for it marks the official return to prominence of Mike Espy, the former secretary of the U.S. Department of Agriculture and once the equivalent of a crown prince in Mississippi's political hierarchy. He, too, is flush with excitement following his own courtroom victory.

"I'm so glad to be here," he tells the crowd over the thunderous standing ovation that greets him as he takes the podium. "After all I've been through, I'm so very glad to be here."

What he has been through is four years of horrific legal warfare with Donald Smaltz, a relentless independent prosecutor of the Kenneth Starr variety who tried to brand Espy as a politician-on-the-take. The battle left Espy perched on the rim of oblivion. His once transcendent career in the Washington, D.C., power circle (he was a good friend and early supporter of President Clinton's) was brought down by charges that he illegally received gifts and gratuities from companies regulated by the Department of Agriculture. The 30-count federal indictment leveled against him by Smaltz and the sweeping $21 million investigation into every comer of Espy's life not only sullied his name, but destroyed the lives and careers of many of his friends and family members.

During the course of his investigative blitzkrieg, Smaltz cut a wide swath through Espy's life, interviewing everyone from his elementary school teachers to his ex-wife and threatening anyone with even a remote association to the former Clinton cabinet member with prosecution. The strong-arm tactics cast a pallor over the once-lustrous Espy name.

Even in his home state, where he has always enjoyed immense popularity, the specter of the investigation and charges loomed over him like a dark cloud.

But today, Espy is hailed as a champion. In December, after a seven-week trial, during which prosecutors presented more than 70 witnesses, a federal jury found him not guilty on all 30 counts. Battered, but unbowed; he now vows to fight for the defeat of the federal independent counsel statute, which he says has become a weapon of mass destruction in the take-no-prisoners war between Democrats and Republicans. More importantly, the 45-year-old former congressman plans to piece together the shards of his life as he tries to determine when he might re-enter the political arena.

Not that he needs to be in politics at the moment. Despite his legal troubles, he has managed quite nicely as an attorney in private practice and has established himself as a much-in-demand speaker throughout Mississippi. But public service is his calling, and while he says he has neither a timetable nor a specific office in mind, he knows that at some point in the future he will heed that call. "I don't know when that will be," he says, "or what form [his quest for political office] will take, but I would say that it's probable for the future."

What's heartening to him are the signs indicating that his political stock in Mississippi remains high. A recent poll he commissioned to help him weigh his political options confirmed that his legal ordeal did no permanent damage to his reputation. The wide-ranging poll, which tested his viability in a number of statewide races, indicated that his support among White voters hovers around 50 percent. Among Blacks, the poll shows him capturing 90 percent of the vote or better in a variety of contests and with a wide range of likely opponents. "I'm very proud of the fact that all of the verbal support I have been receiving was real, and that's what shows up in this data," he says.

At the moment, however, a run for public office is out of the question. He says it would prevent him from practicing law and earning the sort of money he needs to retire the $1.5 million legal bill he amassed during his protracted battle with federal prosecutors. "It would be fraught with conflicts," he says of any effort to practice law and hold political office. "And if there's something I don't ever need again in my life, it's ethics troubles."