JimmyCsays: At the juncture of journalism and daily life in KC

The death Thursday of former Missouri Gov. Joe Teasdale saddened me but also brought back memories of days in the early 1970s, when Teasdale was an up-and-coming politician and I was an up-and-coming political reporter.

What I remember most about Teasdale is his showmanship and authentic personality when he was prosecutor. Even though he was elected governor — mostly on the strength of a nickname, Walkin’ Joe — his best days in politics were as prosecutor. I think he’d tell us that, too, if he was alive today.

Teasdale was first elected prosecutor in 1966, after a few years as an assistant U.S. attorney in Kansas City.

In the prosecutor’s office he oversaw a talented group of lawyers, some of whom were personal friends. Teasdale didn’t try many cases himself; he was content to let his assistants do the heavy lifting. And those assistants didn’t lose many cases, which really helped Teasdale politically.

Our paths first intersected in 1971 when I got my first “beat” at The Kansas City Times (the morning Star at the time). I was named Jackson County Courthouse reporter, and, boy, was I excited. Before that I had been a “general assignment” reporter, which involved responding to wrecks, shootings and other mayhem and covering mostly mundane presentations and speeches. It was pretty unsatisfying work, but I was paying my dues. (I also got at least a couple of dates out of those speech-covering assignments.)

When I was named courthouse reporter, my shift changed from 4 p.m. to 12:30 a.m. to noon to 8 p.m. That was much more conducive to an active social life, which revolved around the Westport bars.

Fortuitously for me, a shocking murder had taken place in November 1970, and I inherited coverage of the trial.

A low-ranking mobster named Johnny Frankoviglia, known as Johnny Franks, had undertaken — reportedly without authorization from mob bosses — the killing of a scrap-metal dealer named Sol Landie.

In August 1970, Landie had testified before a special grand jury investigating organized gambling in Kansas City, and he was scheduled to testify against several men who were subsequently charged. In November, four young men whom Franks had recruited invaded Landie’s south Kansas City home, shot and killed Landie and terrorized his wife. They tried to make it look like a burglary and robbery but — amateurs that they were — failed miserably. The hiring of rank amateurs was the main reason authorities believed Franks had acted on his own.

There was a lot of pre-trial publicity, and because of that, the trial was moved to St. Louis County. It was held in March 1972.

Teasdale took about half his staff over to Clayton, MO, for the trial, and he assigned an assistant named Dave Freeman — long since deceased — to be “first chair” prosecutor. Freeman, a dour, sloop-shouldered sort, had a deep and penetrating voice and steely eyes. He was a tiger in the courtroom, taking dead aim on each defendant, and he couldn’t stand losing.

The trial lasted a full week, and I was writing for the morning Kansas City Times and the afternoon Star. (The two papers collaborated at the time.)

I have never written so much copy and covered a story so intensely. I would sit in on testimony in the morning, leave the courtroom about 11, write and dictate my story for the afternoon paper. I would return to the courtroom after the lunch break, stay through the end of testimony and start the writing and dictating process all over again. Seldom did I get away before 7:30 or 8 p.m.

(In addition, I accepted an offer from the Associated Press to file stories for them at the end of each day’s testimony. Foolishly, I didn’t ask the assigning editor how much I would be paid, and, when it was all said and done, I got a $25 check for 12 to 15 hours of work.)

My stories were getting great play in The Times and Star, however — front page or on the page featuring local news, and I was “eating my bylines for breakfast,” as an assignment editor once described my ardor for stories.

As I recall, Teasdale, who had a commanding presence and powerful voice (this was before his notorious, chronic throat clearing set in), made the opening statement for the prosecution. I don’t remember it being particularly compelling, but, then, opening statements seldom are.

He also questioned one or more prosecution witnesses, sticking closely to an outline prepared by his assistants…It was clear that the boss was there to be seen and that he and his assistants didn’t want to jeopardize the case by having him do more than he was capable of.

At the close of the trial, however, a shocking thing happened — shocking to me, anyway. Teasdale delivered one of the most powerful and riveting closing arguments that I ever heard. Again, I don’t remember a lot of it, but I recall clearly how he zeroed in on Johnny Franks. At one point, Teasdale loomed over Franks, pointing at him menacingly and boomed, “He doesn’t represent the Italian community that I know!”

The jury returned its guilty verdict on a Saturday — the outcome was never in question — and Teasdale and his crew partied late into the night. I don’t remember what I did, but when I knocked on Teasdale’s hotel room door on Sunday morning, he answered bleary-eyed and groggy. Graciously, he ushered me in and gave me an interview.

The last of my week-long run of stories — the interview with Teasdale — ran on the front page of the Monday Kansas City Times. It put a nice bow on a great week for me, as well as for the prosecutor’s office and Teasdale personally.

A few months later he was traipsing around the state (actually riding in an RV most if the time) campaigning for governor. He lost that round, but four years, later — in 1976 — he ran again and pulled off one of the most memorable political upsets in Missouri history, defeating incumbent Gov. Christopher S. “Kit” Bond, a Republican.

Teasdale was a disaster as governor — totally ill suited for managing a large, multi-faceted organization. Bond came back and beat Teasdale in 1980, and Teasdale returned to Kansas City, where he attempted,  unsuccessfully, to adjust to life as an average citizen.

This didn’t come out in The Star’s obit, and you probably won’t read it anywhere else, but Teasdale suffered from depression and bipolar disorder most of the rest of his life.

On Thursday, he died from complications of pneumonia.

We never know how the arcs of our lives are going to travel. All we can hope for is more good days than bad along the way. Joe Teasdale had a lot of good, memorable days on the ride up; it’s just that for him, the ascent and time at the apex were way too short.

But this former reporter will never forget the wild, seven-day ride he enjoyed on that ambitious prosecutor’s coattails.