At Large with Joe Wilkins   

Flash: FBI finds hookers in New Orleans!.....

If you're bothered by the news coming out of Washington about how the FBI smothered reports, bumbled coordination between its field offices, and is about as efficient as the Keystone Cops, cheer up. There is good news from New Orleans.

U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft and the ever-vigilant FBI that operates under his wing has discovered that New Orleans was home to a — how can I put this delicately — a brothel!

It came as a tremendous surprise for folks in New Orleans to read that a lovely white Victorian house on Canal Street was actually a house of ill-repute. The shock waves of the discovery are still rolling down St. Charles Avenue and through the French Quarter and the Garden District. Newspapers from California to Boston have expressed amazement at the news that a cathouse has been found there. This in the town so pure of thought its pro football players are called “The Saints!”

The case was handled with true FBI professionalism. Based, quite probably, on some vigilant tipster reporting a constant stream of what the Boston Globe described as “New Orleans blue-blood bankers, white-shoe lawyers, business executives and a former pro-football player,” a warrant was obtained to allow the FBI to wiretap the conversations between madams and clients.

From then on it took a mere 13 months, the employment of 2 full-time agents and 8 or 10 others along the way, the wiretapping and tape recording of more than 5,000 conversations, and the co-operation of several madams, to establish that it was, in fact, a cathouse.

According to reports, the resulting 200 pages of transcripts contain the names of hundreds of the men who patronized the establishment. They will not be prosecuted. Jim Letten, the acting U.S. Attorney in New Orleans admitted with some embarrassment that there is, actually, no federal law against paying somebody for sex. There are local laws, of course, as almost everywhere, which are enforced by local cops and vice squads.

He offered to turn the list of johns over to the locals for prosecution, but Harry Connick, the long-serving New Orleans District Attorney and father of the famous singer Harry Connick, Jr., won't take it. The feds started the case, he feels, and can damn well finish it.

Harry's attitude is understandable. New Orleans is touchy about such things. It is in the Deep South, where a distrust of the federal government is considered good government.

In addition there is the essentially forgiving nature that sets New Orleans apart from other cities. Its citizens, while individually upright and virtuous, are filled with the spirit of compassion for the fallen woman and the man who is unable to withstand the temptations of the flesh. In fact, if you are likely to succumb to the temptations of the flesh, you will find few places in the world more understanding and welcoming than New Orleans.

I have spent happy months writing books on the tables of outdoor cafes in New Orleans and appreciate some of its makeup. The Big Easy's a town that sneers at Florida as a place people go to die, and prides itself on being the city where people go to live. Its motto is “Laissez les bon temps roule!”, which means “Let the good times roll!” It's the home of the legendary Storyville red-light district, where Louis Armstrong developed his style playing in local cathouses.

Those lacking any familiarity with New Orleans at all should consult those loosely censored late-night TV commercials hustling a video tape called “Girls Gone Wild,” showing enthusiastic young lovelies displaying their charms and joy of life in the streets of the French Quarter. This will help you understand why knowledgeable locals have expressed the opinion that the FBI could have rounded up 20 or 30 hookers by standing in the middle of Bourbon Street waving a $100 bill.

The problem may reflect the state of the FBI's computers. Last week we learned they are so obsolete that the FBI cannot run a database search combining the two words “aviation” and “schools.” It would blow their motherboards to run a search on “hookers” and “New Orleans.”

The Justice Department is prosecuting the hookers and the madam; not for prostitution, but for money laundering. The johns, including at least one judge, a telecommunications mogul, and a former pro-football player will get off, unless their wives get wind of it. According to the Washington Post those on the list include a former head of “Rex”, the prestigious Mardi Gras Krewe, and a member of one of New Orleans's most prominent restaurant families.

Outsiders think the madam will either publish her little black book or blackmail those listed in it. But they don't understand. I suspect that in New Orleans there is a silent auction going on right now in which men of impeccable virtue are offering good money to get their names listed. “We are all sinners,” is the compassionate view of the men of New Orleans, anxious lest the whole town laugh at them for being sanctimonious prudes. Being left off that list would be as humiliating for a true New Orleanian as being a Washington journalist left off Nixon's enemies list.

Inevitably, the Democrats in Washington have decided to politicize the matter. Senator Tom Daschle used the affair to bolster his argument that we need a special commission to investigate why the intelligence agencies missed all the signals about the terrorist attacks.

“If the FBI can spend resources investigating whether there is prostitution in New Orleans, they ought to be able to find the resources to investigate what happened in this country prior to 9/11,” he told the Boston Globe. Daschle's a good man, but he's from South Dakota, where folks think “the evils of the flesh” refers to mad cow disease.

Other experts joined in the criticism. “This case is not Ma Barker. This is not major criminal activity,” the Globe quoted Harry Rosenberg, a former federal prosecutor. “I think the public normally expects the federal government to be interested in bigger things.”

Even the staid Wall Street Journal piled on. The FBI was only following what it thought were Attorney General John Ashcroft's priorities, it reported. “His underlings,” charged the WSJ, “clearly knew that proving sin and sex were pervasive wouldn't displease the boss.” So they used what scarce manpower they had to watch hookers, even as Ashcroft rejected the FBI's pre-September 11th plea for another $57.8 million to boost its counter terrorist resources.

Such comments have a tinge of unfairness to them. After Ken Starr's bloodhounds got their jollies investigating Monica thonging Bill, it's only human of the FBI agents to indulge themselves in a titillating year listening to hookers and johns. Pouring over lists of flight-school students looking for strange-sounding names is dull stuff compared to that.

The FBI has some things to say in its own defense. The entire operation, it claimed in applying for its warrant, would produce proof of mob dealings, drug transactions and money laundering. This is serious stuff. Or it could have been. Thirteen months later the haul produced no mobsters, had brought in 12 hookers, and the major drug transaction charged was that one of the hookers sold a marijuana joint to a customer. But they scored big-time on the money laundering when the madam pleaded guilty to using $675 from the brothel's revenues to pay her rent.

Ken Kaiser, special agent in charge of the New Orleans office, denies the FBI neglected other duties. He asserted, according to CNN, that “after September 11, the two agents assigned full time to the brothel case also worked an additional eight-hour shift on counterterrorism.”

These are difficult days for the FBI. It is an organization that believes in family values. Yet here it has closed down a bordello run by a 42 year old woman with the help of her daughter and her 62 year old mother. It's hard to imagine a more politically correct business than one that is run by a team of three generations of women.

And a successful business it was. The madam got 50% of the women's $300-charge-per-customer. The FBI has documented that they were expected to entertain seven to ten customers per day. Naturally, the operators added value to the transaction. The brothel was beautifully furnished. “Everything in there was from the Pottery Barn,” one neighbor was quoted as saying.

They were smart, tough businesswomen, too. “No,” the madam reportedly said on one of the FBI's wiretaps. “If they're calling from Ramada or Holiday Inns, blow 'em off. We don't want them.” Men calling from payphones or refusing to give their last names were also rejected.
“Get the house clean because the judge will probably be coming,” was one statement recorded by the FBI. In New Orleans, it's either first class or no class. We expect no less from a city that can still boast of white-shoe lawyers.

“The $300 sometimes scares the customers because they can get it for $100 in some places — but they come to us,” the madam was quoted as saying. “That's why we have a good clientele. We have chosen our profession and we're good at it.” New Orleans has high standards, even for sin. Or it did, until the FBI saints came marching in.

© 2002 Joseph T. Wilkins
June 10, 2002