Philadelphia's Magisterial Mess

The front line of Philadelphia justice is manned by 28 magistrates, who handle traffic violators, hear civil cases involving $100 or less, summarily try minor criminals, and make the key decision on whether to hold suspects in serious crimes. Despite these responsibilities, only one magistrate is a lawyer, only nine are high school graduates, four never went beyond grade school, and one dropped out in sixth grade. Almost uniquely among modern U.S. cities, Philadelphia retains the magistrate's job as a payoff for ward politicians--and though the post pays only $12,500 a year, such are the hidden benefits that reformers have failed to effect any basic change in 274 years.

Last week the system was labeled "an iceberg of corruption" in a 515-page report compiled by Pennsylvania's Assistant Attorney General Arlen Specter, 35, a liberal Democrat turned liberal Republican, who also happens to be running for election as Philadelphia's district attorney against Incumbent James C. Crumlish Jr. Predictably, Democrat Crumlish blasted Specter's report as purely political. All the same, it was a well-documented shocker--the work of 27 state investigators who toiled for ten months at the request of Attorney General Walter E. Alessandroni.

Tawdry Highlights. So far, the Specter probe has yielded eleven arrests--including those of two magistrates and one ex-magistrate--based on more than 40 counts of judicial bribes and shakedowns. Among the Specter report's tawdry highlights:

> Philadelphia magistrates are authorized to collect $1, payable to the city, for signing releases for pre-hearing prisoners. Specter's affidavits show that 19 magistrates routinely extracted up to $25 per prisoner. Magistrate Earl Lane was arrested on evidence that he overcharged at least 170 times.

> Postponements for "further hearings," says Specter, give magistrates "an opportunity to extort money from defendants prior to disposition at the preliminary hearing." While tending a friend's bar in 1963, Juan Martinez was arrested for letting in a minor. Magistrate Harry J. Ellick reportedly commented: "Big people pay $500 and little people pay $200." To pressure Martinez, says Specter, Ellick granted two postponements, demanded $75 from the actual bar owner, finally sent the man before a grand jury, which refused to indict him. Magistrate Ellick himself was indicted last March for extortion, bribery and blackmail.

> On 2,017 occasions last year, magistrates reduced indictable crimes to summary convictions for minor offenses--an illegal practice redolent of corruption. Morals charges, for example, were dropped after payments ranging from $300 to $2,500. The pattern also suggests "a sinister connection between magistrates and gambling operations." In 1963 Magistrate Ruth Marmon reportedly gave a petty-gambling defendant a choice of "$1,000 bail, or get $100 and it will all be dropped." A state legislator representing the defendant duly paid the magistrate's clerk $100. As a result, Mrs. Marmon and her clerk were indicted this summer.

> In 157,629 traffic cases heard by magistrates last year, the conviction rate was only 6.9%--a statistic lending support to one magistrate's story that his colleagues regard traffic cases as a lucrative business. The story also goes that Philadelphia's constables (who enforce court orders) pay kickbacks for the privilege of collecting illegal $4 fees from the recipient of each warning letter they send to scofflaws.

> Constables are also in cahoots with some magistrates to use the courts as a debt-collection agency. To help constables rake in commissions as high as 50%, for example, such magistrates issue arrest warrants for "civil debt"--a result-getter that has been illegal in Pennsylvania since 1842. As soon as he took office in 1961, Magistrate Harry C. Schwartz incorporated the Active Collection Agency with his wife as president and Constable Abraham Siegel as treasurer. Magistrate Schwartz openly welcomes A.C.A. cases--and shares his wife's 50% split of the profits.

Wary Legislators. As an interim reform, the Scranton administration last week pressed state legislators to raise magistrates' salaries, require new ones to be lawyers, cut the present number to 18, and drastically alter the case-assignment system to prevent collusion. Even that modest package is given scant chance of passage. As a troubled Scranton aide points out: "These men are probably the most powerful politicians in the state. They do favors for people every day, and state legislators are scared to death of them."

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