Inherit the mint; how Edward Bennett Williams made legal prostitution respectable - excerpt from 'The Man to See: Edward Bennett Williams - Legendary Trial Lawyer, Ultimate Insider

Washington Monthly, Oct, 1991 by Evan Thomas

Within a few days the dairy lobby had coughed up a pledge of $2 million to Nixon's reelection campaign--and the administration had come out in favor of milk price supports. before trial, Tuerkheimer had strongly argued that Nixon and Connally were discussing the quid pro quo for the president's support of the milk producers. The words were coded and cryptic, but the meaning was clear in light of what was said before and what happened after. Tuerkheimer translated "oil" as Texas-speak for money. But Williams just as strongly objected to admitting the tape into evidence. The tape was of poor quality and hard ot hear. It was confusing and ultimately irrelevant, he said, since any payoffs mentioned were not for Connally but rather for Nixon. Once again, Judge Hart sided with Williams. He ruled that the tape was inadmissible.

The prosecution did have some strong circumstantial evidence--bank records supported Jacobsen's account of making and withdrawing deposits of money after his meeting with Connally. But ultimately, the case boiled down to Jacobsen's word that Connally had taken the money. it was necessary, therefore, for Williams to destroy Jacobsen as a witness.

Glove story

In many ways, Jacobsen was just like Bobby Baker, a slick and ubiquitous hanger-on to Lyndon Johnson. He had been a "high-rent valet" for LBJ, picking out the right music to play on the presidential yacht, making sure Johnson's tailor arrived on time. Jacobsen himself was always tanned and carefully groomed. He was honey-voiced, quietly smarmy. "He looks like a guy who has just had his fingernails polished," wrote The Washington Star. He wanted to be seen as a Texas wheeler-dealer but he had grown up a poor Jewish boy in New Jersey. His first name was really Emmanuel, but when he moved to Texas he changed his name to E. Jake Jacobsen; "Manny" had become "Jake." In 1973, Jacobsen went bankrupt, unable to pay $12 million in bills. The same year he was charged with defrauding a savings and loan in San Angelo. Faced with up to 35 years in jail, Jacobsen had made a deal: In exchange for leniency, he would testify against John Connally.

The spectators began lining up at 4 a.m. to see Williams cross-examine Jacobsen. Six hundred people--lawyers, law students, Watergate buffs, a smattering of the rich and famous--patiently vied for 90 seats. The press had played the cross-examination as the critical showdown of the trial, if not the most dramatic courtroom confrontation of the decade. "It was supposed to be the great face-off, the cobra versus the mongoose," wrote Mary McGrory in The Washington Star.

Williams looked "a little pale and puffy" as he paced the courtroom before Jacobsen took the stand, wrote McGrory. After getting only four hours of sleep a night for weeks, he had succumbed to the flu. Williams was chronically apprehensive before trial, but his partners had never seen him so nervous. He was so preoccupied that when spoken to, he just stared back, lost in thought.