The St. Petersburg Seven

After three years at Auburn University Montgomery, two law books published and enough “learned” articles, I was granted tenure and a promotion. I was pretty bummed at the time about Montgomery and spent most weekends in Atlanta visiting my brother, Bud and wife Anna. I decided I needed a break.

I told the Dean I was going to take a sabbatical without pay. He said that I had to apply and be granted leave. “Mail me the papers,” was my reply. He did, and I filled them out, and leave was granted, and I remained away for eighteen months.

I started in St. Petersburg, Florida, practicing law in the office of a friend. I was not busy in the law when I arrived in St. Pete, so I told the Dean of the Episcopal Cathedral that I had time to volunteer. He directed me to a group of advocates for the homeless who needed a lawyer. I began representing seven defendants in the criminal courts who the newspaper dubbed, “The St. Petersburg Seven,” a take on the famous Chicago trial.

The seven were all charged with criminal trespass. They had organized a work day at an abandoned house. Dozens of people had showed up and worked on wiring and plumbing, painting and sheetrock. The work was accompanied by a kiddie parade, a barbeque, and several music groups.

The police waited until after the barbeque when the house was ready for a homeless family to move in. Then they came in force and announced that everybody who did not wish to be arrested should leave immediately. Seven joined hands in the living room and began singing “We Shall Overcome.” They refused to walk out. The TV crews had a field day as the police joined hands to make “baskets” and the seven were carried out one by one. The music continued in the background.

I called the Washington, D.C., mission for the homeless, and they gave me the names of various civil rights lawyers who were helpful in advising me. I filed defenses ranging from necessity to portions of the U.N. Charter.

The newspapers were very sympathetic. There were daily articles, fueled by interviews with me and the seven defendants. Vital information about the causes and effects of homelessness were being passed on. Over sixty percent of the homeless were women with children under the age of ten. The loss of a month’s, or even a week’s pay, sometimes put a family over the edge. If they had to find another apartment, the first and last month’s rent, deposits of almost one thousand dollars for electric and water, was an insurmountable burden. The father of a family who had lost its rental apartment was the weak link. The man’s ability to work and provide for his family is his ego and his life. He cracked. The mother stayed with the children.

The “welfare lady” was most feared because she would take your children away to foster homes, and even if you could overcome the depression that in endemic to homelessness, you could never earn enough to rent a new apartment and pay a lawyer to sue to get your children back. They were gone forever.

Clare Hanrahan, the leader of the group of seven, ran a shelter for homeless women and children, and a bathhouse, fresh clothing, and telephone answering service for the men. Several of the others worked in shelters; one young woman lived on the street; she pretended to be crazy as a defense against predators, and one young woman cared for men dying of aids.

The level of commitment and self sacrifice was astonishing. Clare had chained herself with two nuns to the railroad tracks in Memphis where the “White Train” that carried nuclear warheads had to pass. One woman sneaked on to the grounds of a missile silo and planted seeds. She was caught and imprisoned, but in the spring, the seeds blossomed and spelled out “PEACE” on the side of the missile silo.

Later Clare together with hundreds of protestors stepped across the line drawn in the road at the entrance to Fort Benning, Georgia, was selectively arrested and spent seven months in a federal prison for women. Her book, Conscience & Consequence, is available through her website www.celticwordcraft.com.

The trial of the St. Petersburg Seven began. Two young prosecutors waited while my motion to dismiss was heard. I made an offer of proof. Midway through the day, the judge called the two prosecutors and me into his chambers.

“Mr. Honey, I am very sympathetic to your cause, but we have to end this trial. I am going to ask the prosecutors to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

The two young men hemmed and hawed for a moment and then said, “Community Service.”

I asked how much community service.

“Forty hours,” was the reply.

“Your honor,” I said. “My clients operate shelters for the homeless and provide in-home care to the dying. They are on duty twenty four hours a day. Forty hours is less than two days caring for them.”

“I don’t care,” he replied.

“And,” I continued. “They won’t plead guilty because they aren’t as a matter of conscience, and they won’t promise not to do it again, also a matter of conscience.”

“I don’t care. Have them plead Nolo Contendere.”

I took the deal to my clients, who begged me to keep the trial going so the cause of the homeless would receive another day’s publicity. They said they were willing to go to jail if that would help.

I told them the judge was not going to let the trial continue and urged them to accept the plea bargain.

They did, and later in the week I filed a motion stating that all the defendants had completed forty hours of community service, and all charges were dismissed.

The St. Petersburg Times published a lovely editorial praising the seven and urging more be done to help the homeless. The City of St. Petersburg agreed to open the concrete hallways and restrooms of the unused baseball stadium on cold nights.