Friday, January 13, 2006


I am and always have been a conservative and an adherent to the same philosophical views that I believe are central to this [Reagan] Administration. . . . I believe very strongly in limited government, federalism, free enterprise, the supremacy of the elected branches of government, the need for a strong defense and effective law enforcement, and the legitimacy of a government role in protecting traditional values. In the field of law, I disagree strenuously with the usurpation of the judiciary of decisionmaking authority that should be exercised by the branches of government responsible to the electorate. The Administration has already made major strides toward reversing this trend through its judicial appointments, litigation, and public debate, and it is my hope even greater advances can be achieved during the second term, especially with Attorney General Meese' leadership at the Department of Justice.

When I first became interested in government and politics during the 1960s, the greatest influences on my views were the writings of William F. Buckley, Jr., in the National Reveiw, and Barry Goldwater's 1964 campaign. In college, I developed a deep interest in constitutional law, motivated in large part by disagreement with Warren Court decisions, particularly in the areas of criminal procedure, the Establishment Clause, and reapportionment. I discovered the writings of Alexander Bickel advocating judicial restraint, and it was largely for this reason that I decided to go to Yale Law School.

. . . Most recently, it has been an honor and source of personal satisfaction for me to serve in the office of the Solicitor General during President Reagan's administration and to help to advance legal positions in which I personally believe very strongly. I am particularly proud of my contributions in recent cases which the government has argued in the Supreme Court that racial and ethnic quotas should not be allowed and that the Constitution does not protect a right to an abortion.

. . . I am a life-long registered Republican . . . I am a member of the Federalist Society for Law and Public Policy and a regular participant at its luncheon meetings and a member of the Concerned Alumni of Princeton University, a conservative alumni group. During the past year, I have submitted articles for publication in the National Review and the American Spectator.

There is your "open mind."

While You Were Talking.....

January 13, 2006
Op-Ed Contributor
The Bugs in Our System

CAN we trust claims that the unregulated monitoring of telephone conversations by the executive branch does not threaten our privacy because the president has authorized spying only upon people linked to terrorist groups? One answer can be found in a little-remembered domestic spying scandal that took place four decades ago during the Johnson administration.

In the spring of 1954, Herbert Brownell, President Eisenhower's attorney general, sent a confidential memorandum to J. Edgar Hoover, director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Prompted by a recent Supreme Court decision "denouncing the use of microphone surveillances by city police in a gambling case," the memorandum authorized the F.B.I. to conduct "microphone surveillance" in national security investigations. Brownell even approved trespassing on private property to plant electronic bugs because "for the F.B.I. to fulfill its important intelligence function, considerations of internal security and the national safety are paramount and, therefore, may compel the unrestricted use of the technique."

The claim of authority to install illegal bugs was significant. From 1928 to 1967, Supreme Court decisions permitted wiretapping of telephone lines if the device could be installed without a trespass into a home or other private area; since 1940, administrations could use this as one basis to tap the telephones of "suspected spies," but not to bug their homes.

Brownell acknowledged that Supreme Court justices had been "outraged" that police officers had installed a microphone in a bedroom in a criminal case. But he assumed that the executive branch had expansive power to spy in national security investigations and authorized intrusions into even this "intimate location" if necessary to obtain "important intelligence or evidence relating to matters connected with the national security." Although Brownell's memorandum was written years before the Supreme Court and Congress imposed the current constitutional and legislative limits on electronic surveillance, it still distinguished between national security investigations and traditional criminal law enforcement.

In the decade after this authorization, the F.B.I. installed hundreds of electronic bugs and a large percentage were in criminal investigations having nothing to do with Communists, the cold war or the nation's foreign enemies. One figured prominently in the scandal that erupted during Lyndon Johnson's presidency.

In 1966, an influential Washington lobbyist named Fred Black asked the Supreme Court to reverse his conviction for tax evasion. The case was potentially embarrassing to President Johnson because Black was an associate of Bobby Baker, a Johnson protégé. Before Black's legal proceedings were resolved, Solicitor General Thurgood Marshall advised the Supreme Court that as part of an unrelated criminal investigation, F.B.I. agents had illegally installed microphones in Black's hotel suite and recorded conversations between Black and his lawyers, and that prosecutors in the tax case had unknowingly received information from those bugs. Although Marshall argued that prosecutors had not used that information against Black, the Supreme Court ordered the Johnson administration to submit a report explaining the source of the F.B.I.'s authority to conduct this electronic surveillance.

The court's order provoked intense press coverage and a high-stakes political battle involving Johnson, Hoover and Senator Robert F. Kennedy of New York. In an effort to force the Justice Department to report that Kennedy had approved the bugging during his tenure as attorney general, Hoover lobbied within the Johnson administration and leaked information to the press. Kennedy, however, explicitly denied that he had approved the illegal electronic surveillance of Black or others.

Kennedy was vindicated when the Justice Department report submitted to the Supreme Court by Attorney General Nicholas deB. Katzenbach named Hoover as the person who had authorized the illegal bugging. Although Hoover claimed that every recent administration had informally approved the practice, only the 1954 Brownell memorandum documented an explicit grant of authority for the illegal installation of electronic bugs. The F.B.I. had turned an administration's assertion of authority to eavesdrop on the nation's enemies into a justification for listening to private conversations unrelated to national security.

The Supreme Court reversed Fred Black's conviction. At his second trial, Black was acquitted. Within months of telling the Supreme Court that Hoover had authorized the bugging, Katzenbach resigned as attorney general. He later said, "I could no longer effectively serve as attorney general because of Mr. Hoover's obvious resentment of me."

But the fundamental issue was not who would win these power struggles or even which official had authorized the illegal bugging. It was that an executive branch agency had engaged in domestic spying free from any oversight by other government institutions. The courts and Congress soon acted. In 1967, the Supreme Court decided two cases imposing Fourth Amendment restrictions on electronic surveillance. One opinion cited the Black case in a discussion of bugging for "prosecutorial purposes." In 1968, Congress enacted a statute that established comprehensive restrictions on wiretapping and electronic surveillance - including a judicial warrant requirement.

This bit of history shows how, unregulated by either the courts or Congress, the F.B.I. was free to expand a grant of authority to combat our cold war enemies into a license to spy on ordinary citizens. With an unchecked executive branch, we should fear that similar abuses may be occurring today, in our war on terrorism.

Morgan Cloud is a law professor at Emory University.

January 13, 2006
Op-Ed Contributor
Back When Spies Played by the Rules
PRESIDENT Bush's ordering the National Security Agency to eavesdrop on Americans without warrants contradicts a long evolution toward the secrecy of communications. Centuries ago, people in England, France and the German states fought for the right to send letters without their being opened by the "black chambers" of absolutist monarchs. Martin Luther, whose letters had been opened by the Duke of Saxony, raged that "a thief is a thief, whether he is a money thief or a letter thief."

Regulations called for postal secrecy in 1532 and 1573 in Austria's Tyrol, in Prussia in 1685, in the oath of succession taken in 1690 by the Holy Roman emperor Joseph I and in his postal regulation of 1698. Rulers ignored them. Like Britain's Oliver Cromwell, who saw the post as "the best means to discover and prevent many dangerous and wicked designs against the Commonwealth," they justified letter-opening.

It sometimes worked. In 1723, Bishop Francis Atterbury was exiled, partly on the basis of intercepted letters, for trying to put a pretender on Britain's throne. Monarchs got information from their "black chambers" - secret rooms in post offices in main cities into which the mail was brought for opening.

London's was in Abchurch Lane, near St. Paul's. Black chambers resembled laboratories. Kettles spouted steam to soften wax seals. Experts took impressions of seals with a soft amalgam to make new ones in case they broke the originals while sliding hot wires under them. Specialists slid thin batons with a long slit into envelopes and twirled letters around them so they could be extracted without breaking the seals.

Austria's black chamber was reputed to be the most efficient. Sacks of diplomatic mail arrived at 7 a.m., the letters unsealed and read, the important parts copied, sometimes by dictation, the letters replaced and resealed and sent to the embassies by 9:30. The employees sometimes erred, however. When the British ambassador in Austria complained that he was getting copies instead of originals, the prime minister, Metternich, coolly replied, "How clumsy these people are!"

But the public knew about the letter-opening and hated it. The pre-revolutionary French assembly, the Estates-General, received complaints from all regions of France and from all classes of society about this invasion of their thoughts. A month after the fall of the Bastille, Article 11 of the Declaration of the Rights of Man held that citizens may write with freedom - in effect nullifying the right of the government to read letters. In the United States, the 1792 law establishing the Post Office forbade its agents from illegally opening the mail entrusted to it. This grew out of the Constitution's Fourth Amendment, prohibiting unreasonable searches. Of course, judges could issue warrants to read letters, just as they could allow law officials to enter a house.

Curiously, an absolutist monarchy was the first state to enact a law specifically punishing letter-opening. "Whoever opens the letter of another without his will and without special permission faces three to 14 days of prison," read Article 1370 of Prussia's General Law of 1794. Other states of Germany and elsewhere in Europe followed.

British laws in 1711 and 1837 empowered the government to issue warrants to read mail. Then, in 1844, the Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Mazzini, during a stay in England, learned that his letters had been opened without a proper warrant. Parliament exploded. The great historian Macauley defied the government to differentiate "between a letter of his being taken from him when in the post office and a letter taken out of his desk." Britons, he said, "would rather take the risk of great crimes being committed, than owe their security to that system or those means, which would destroy the manly spirit of the people, on which more reliance could be placed than all the schemes and decrees that could be invented for maintaining their greatness and independence as a nation." The uproar was channeled into a long report, and the liberal winds of the 1840's blew down the black chambers in Britain and most of the Continent.

Throughout the 20th century, many nations (including the United States) continued to intercept diplomats' messages, but most seem to have stopped reading their citizens' mail. Not totalitarian governments, though. Article 128 of the 1936 Constitution of the Soviet Union guaranteed the privacy of correspondence, but the Soviet government read private mail. And although Germany's Weimar Constitution declared in Article 117 that "Privacy of correspondence, of mail ... are inviolable," Hermann Göring's intelligence bureau eavesdropped on conversations from a converted Berlin apartment house whose basement housed ranks of clattering teletypewriters.

After World War II, nations paid at least lip service to letter secrecy. Article 12 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, signed by many countries, holds that "no one shall be subjected to arbitrary interference with his ... correspondence." Not all keep their word.

David Kahn is the author of "The Codebreakers" and "The Reader of Gentlemen's Mail," a biography of the cryptologist Herbert O. Yardley.

Copyright 2006The New York Times Company

Copyright 2006The New York Times Company

Willie Mae Seaton

January 11, 2006
Can New Orleans Save the Soul of Its Food?

WILLIE MAE SEATON and her wet-battered fried chicken were honored last year in New York in front of thousands of the nation's food elite. Bob Iacovone of Cuvée was enjoying his own measure of success, drawing national notice for his continental Creole food.

A few weeks ago, Willie Mae Seaton, 89, sat sweating on the stoop of her moldering New Orleans restaurant. About all that was left were a few gallons of unopened vegetable oil, a hulk of an old stove and a shrine to Jesus.

About a mile away, in a part of the city Katrina left intact, Mr. Iacovone was in crisp chef's whites, combining Louisiana lump crabmeat with Brie and orzo. He had a full house coming to dinner.

Race and money have long separated this city's po' boy counters from its white-tablecloth restaurants. But the line between the two was easily crossed in pursuit of something that tasted good. Mandina's and Henry's Soul Food were New Orleans institutions as surely as Antoine's and Galatoire's.

They were equally loved, but, it turns out, not equally protected. Among those who care about New Orleans food, the debate is whether the high can survive without the low.

"If New Orleans becomes all about foie gras with grits, you've lost something grand," said John T. Edge, the food writer and head of the Southern Foodways Alliance. "Those of us who live to eat are wringing our hands and wondering what's going to happen to places like Willie Mae's."

Miss Seaton's double shotgun shack has for half a century held her home, a 30-seat Creole-soul restaurant and a little bar where she once served her signature cocktail, milk and scotch. Like thousands of others here, she wasn't insured against the water that soaked the place to the studs four months ago. And like other old-line neighborhood spots, even with a cleanup, the cost of expensive upgrades to meet modern health codes could keep the doors shut for good.

Still, she seems undeterred.

"I've got to come back," she said, "because I don't have any other home."

Meanwhile, the other side of the restaurant recovery is being played out in the French Quarter, the central business district and the handful of other neighborhoods that stayed dry. Mr. Iacovone said his biggest headaches are getting clean uniforms and enough dishwashers. He is cooking on crutches, having broken his knee on a holiday skiing vacation in Colorado.

He started working on Cuvée about three weeks after Katrina hit at the end of August. By Oct. 4, he was open. Floodwaters didn't reach Cuvée, and the hotel adjacent to the restaurant made sure the walk-in refrigerator was mucked out. The wine cellar stayed cool enough to protect the core of the restaurant's large cache of bottles, and people at Dakota, a restaurant across Lake Pontchartrain owned by the group that owns Cuvée, provided moral and logistical support.

At first, Mr. Iacovone fed comforting dishes like filet mignon and onion rings to recovery workers, reporters and insurance adjusters. Now about 90 percent of his customers are local, and they are ordering foie gras and $27 plates of grilled redfish served over andouille sausage and scallion hash.

"People are looking for a way to escape," he said.

Although the contrast between Mr. Iacovone and Miss Seaton is stark, some long-time New Orleans residents say the flood simply sped along a natural evolution in the city. Many of the beloved classics were already on a downhill slide.

"Some of those businesses weren't going to be long-lived regardless," said John Besh of Restaurant August, a native of Louisiana who will star next month in an episode of "Iron Chef" on the Food Network.

The loss of neighborhood restaurants, including Vera's, Mr. Besh's favorite little seafood shack near his home in Slidell, has made him and other higher-end chefs return to things they might have abandoned for inspiration, like bread pudding or grits.

Mr. Besh, for example, has simplified his riff on trout amandine, which used to appear on the menu as almond-roasted Gulf sheepshead with a Meyer lemon and crabmeat salad. He's taken to preparing the dish with trout, butter and almonds, and without a lot of culinary-school flourishes.

"Now more than ever I really need to be focused on the New Orleans sensibility," he said. "I have a responsibility to take indigenous foods and pay them more homage."

Lolis Eric Elie, a columnist for The Times-Picayune who says he is like a grandson to Miss Seaton, is a lifelong student of the food of New Orleans. He's not convinced the new chefs alone can carry the culture.

"By the time the local food gets filtered through Besh's experience, it is wonderful but it's not always the most direct interpretation," he said.

And the problem is defined by more than just cooking styles. It is impossible to look at the bleak difference between a restaurant like Cuvée and Willie Mae's Scotch House without the lens of race. Despite a population that was two-thirds black pre-Katrina, the city had far more white-owned restaurants than black.

"Black restaurants had two problems," Mr. Elie said. "Geography and financial stability."

But many of the white-owned restaurants were small, neighborhood places that were hit as hard as Miss Seaton's.

"We could very easily take a tour of white-owned restaurants and you'd go, oh my god, are they ever coming back?" Mr. Elie said.

Residents and chefs alike are rallying around each neighborhood restaurant that reopens, black, white or otherwise. It's as if every little sandwich shop that manages to fry up some shrimp is one more lifeline pulling the city back.

"People want to think it's race and class, but that's not what's going on with us down here," said Poppy Tooker, the cooking teacher and food personality. "We're all missing each other's food, and we're missing each other. The loss is huge, and it's across the board."

Leah Chase, 83, is working to gut and rebuild her flooded Creole-soul restaurant, Dooky Chase. It sits a few blocks from Miss Seaton's, just down the street from the nearly abandoned Lafitte housing project in the Tremé neighborhood. With more money and more adult children to help, Mrs. Chase might open her restaurant by Mardi Gras.

Her daughter, also named Leah Chase, said everyone in New Orleans, no matter what race or class, misses a favorite food. But depending on who you are and what part of town you grew up in, the dishes one longs for are different.

"Everyone's shuffling to find that little place they used to go to," she said.

There are other, very practical costs to losing neighborhood restaurants. Local places serve as clubhouses, signaling to a community that it is worth gutting out a flooded house to try again. And there is a clear dollars-and-cents symbiosis between high and low.

"If Leah's neighborhood doesn't come back, we won't have workers," Mr. Besh said.

They also might not have the inspiration that New Orleans working-class cooking provided, Mr. Edge said. Although high-end chefs who care about gumbos and other blue-collar cuisine can validate those dishes by putting them on the menu, it doesn't preserve the soul of New Orleans cooking. What might fade forever are places where the history of a dish was in the hands of a cook who had made it thousands of times.

"You lose the small 'd' democracy of those foods at a white-tablecloth restaurant," he said.

To preserve a little of that small "d," Mr. Edge and Mr. Elie have developed a plan to help Miss Seaton. On Friday, the first of four volunteer weekend work parties will start, Habitat-for-Humanity style.

The work crews are a mix of out-of-town writers, food historians, chefs and local people who want to help. The Heritage Conservation Network will act as foreman, and Mr. Besh will help feed the crew.

They have volunteered because they want to preserve one half of the whole that makes New Orleans such a great town to eat in. And because in the end, food might be the only thing that transcends race, class and hurricanes.

"I'm going to tell you the truth and tell it like it is," Miss Seaton said. "The white people really like my soul food. If they like it enough to help me, that's just beautiful, baby."

Copyright 2006The New York Times Company