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The Life and Times of Fay Stender, Radical Attorney for the Black Panthers and Disrupter of White Social Order
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Fay Stender

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Introduction

Fay Stender earned fame as a radical attorney in the 1960s and 1970s, defending two of the most prominent Black Panthers in highly publicized court cases. During the course of her career in left-wing activism, she embraced numerous “causes” with a passion as flamboyant as it was unbalanced. She worked strictly within the stream of Jewish anti-White activism, but inside that framework her aims were essentially random, a consequence of her peculiar personality. She displayed during the course of her work a toxic combination of Jewish radicalism, selfishness, ambition, egotism, and unrestrained female emotion. The blend eventually destabilized social institutions and got people killed.

Fay was the personification of psychological intensity, a classic marker of Jewish activism. Her personality traits were etched in bold lettering. People “who knew her intimately . . . regarded her as one of the most forceful persons they had ever met.”[1]The main sources on the life of Fay Stender are David Horowitz and Peter Collier, “Requiem for a Radical” in Destructive Generation: Second Thoughts About the Sixties (New York, 1990), and Lise Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra: The Life and Times of Movement Lawyer Fay Stender (Berkeley, CA: Regent Press, 2018), and American Justice on Trial: People v. Newton (Berkeley: Regent Press, 2016). The quote is from Horowitz and Collier, “Requiem for a Radical,” 24. Her sympathetic biographer mentions her “extraordinary” ego, and even her husband was appalled by her “analytic, calculating ambition.”[2]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 279; Horowitz and Collier, 28. She was “deeply typical” of the radical movement, says a fellow 1960s leftist, “the paradigmatic radical—relentlessly pushing at human limits; driven to a fine rage by perceived injustices; searching for personal authenticity in her revolutionary commitments.”[3]Horowitz and Collier, 22. Like many subversives of the 1960s, she was also a strongly identified Jew, and consciously linked the supposed values of her Jewish heritage with her social activism.

Her life story is a revealing case study in Jewish activism.

Early Life and Education

Fay Stender was born in San Francisco in 1932, into a middle-class Jewish family. Her grandparents hailed from the old country: Brest-Litovsk, Hungary, and Germany. Her father, Sam Abraham, was a chemical engineer; her mother, Ruby, was a teacher. They were a conventional family, not “political” or activist. Sam was Orthodox, but Fay and her only sibling, Lisie, were raised Reform, and they observed the Sabbath and other Jewish rites.[4]Pearlman covers Stender’s ancestry in Call Me Phaedra, 9-11.

Fay began piano lessons at four years of age, and quickly showed real talent. By the time she entered her teen years she was on track to become a concert pianist. She earned the privilege of performing Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto with the San Francisco Symphony when she was just fourteen years old.

Not long afterward, she rebelled against her rigorous schedule. She wasn’t happy with her stunted social life (she was attending private school to maximize practice time); she demanded to be allowed to attend Berkeley High School with her friend Hilde Stern. She also wanted to reduce her practice time. Her parents submitted only after much argument. She did not fit in very well in high school, however, because Hilde’s circle of friends considered her arrogant. She was “a loner, restless and impatient with frivolity.”[5]Horowitz and Collier, 25. She read much in her spare time and made the National Honor Society.

Fay and her family evinced a good deal of neurosis. Her mother was “controlling” and “tended toward hypochondria,” frequently dragging Fay around to doctors and imposing unnecessary therapies on her. Fay herself suffered periods of serious depression throughout her life, and may have suffered from bipolar disorder.[6]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 11-12. She also enjoyed provoking authority. At public institutions, she would open doors marked “private” and boldly entering, implicitly challenging the White social order.

At seventeen, Fay followed Hilde Stern to Portland, Oregon, to study English at Reed College. Reed had a reputation as left wing and iconoclastic. Fay reveled in her freedom from parental control, and began dating for the first time. She was, like many young people, almost painfully idealistic. A letter of advice to her younger sister featured this earnest impression: “The real meaning of life is in three things, love, beauty and pain. And these three are all really one which is God or Truth. And you will only come to know and understand this by giving, and giving too much.”[7]Ibid., 32.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 11-12.)

A young Fay Stender at Reed College
A young Fay Stender at Reed College

Jewish idealism does not frown upon unorthodox modes of sexual expression. Sex is also, of course, a well-known tool of revolutionaries. In her sophomore year she fell for a youthful professor, Stanley Moore, a womanizing Communist with a taste for bondage (Fay’s biographer Lise Pearlman describes the relationship as “sado-masochistic.”[8]Ibid., 91-2.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 11-12.)
) Moore turned her strongly to the left and “convinced her to reject her cloistered upbringing and bourgeois Jewish values.”[9]Ibid., 37, 40.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 11-12.)
It began to dawn on Fay that “there was something wrong with this country, something I wanted to change.”[10]Perry, Douglas. “Why Reedie and radical lawyer Fay Stender fought for prison reform — and paid with her life,” The Oregonian, June 27, 2015. Viewed September 14, 2017: http://www.oregonlive.com/living/index.ssf/2015/06/...r.html She quickly embraced radical ideas, a rare example of a Gentile converting a Jew to revolution.

In her junior year she transferred to the University of California at Berkeley. There she befriended a fellow student, Chinese immigrant Betty Lee, and, talking “a million miles a minute,” “passionately expounded on Communism, racism and imperialism.”[11]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 37. Her knowledge of these issues must have been superficial, but her passion wasn’t. She was vocal enough with her new beliefs that the FBI opened a file on her and Betty as suspected Communists.[12]Ibid., 44. Betty went on to become a radical member of the Berkeley City Council.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 37.)
The FBI would track Fay through much of her life.

Law School

At this point, Fay decided to become a lawyer; she felt the profession commanded influence. Her ambition fired, she took extra courses and graduated early (January 1953) with honors. She won a scholarship to the University of Chicago Law School, which was considered one of the best in the country at the time, at least by progressives. It was a center of “Legal Realism,” which was the idea “that the law was a flexible tool which balanced competing interests to accomplish particular public goals,” that is, liberal goals. The school had a large number of Jewish students and professors, in a city with the world’s third largest community of Jews.[13]Ibid., 47, 49. Bernardine Dohrn of the Weathermen would later obtain a J.D. from this school.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 37.)

At this time very few women attended law school, and even fewer graduated. It was the almost universal belief within the profession that women lacked the emotional stability to become good trial lawyers; Stender’s career would provide tragic backing for that belief.

Fay entered the school that fall on the lookout for an outlet for activism. She was already alert to the plight of the “oppressed” and “disadvantaged.” She was aware that the school was surrounded by the Black ghetto of Chicago and gave visiting friends tours along its streets.[14]Horowitz and Collier, 26. George Jackson, the Black convict with whom her fate later became entwined, was then a budding thug on those very streets.

In her first semester, Fay attended a meeting of the National Lawyers Guild (NLG). There she met the president of the student chapter, Marvin Stender, a third-year law student and native of Chicago. He was a tall, earnest, true-believing leftist. They quickly fell in love and married, a match described as “a relationship both saw as a joint venture on behalf of the oppressed.”[15]Ibid., 26.
(Horowitz and Collier, 26.)
Her parents were happy she finally settled upon—after many dalliances with Gentiles—a member of the tribe.

Fay and Marvin threw themselves into cauldron of leftist politics. Fay was “finding it increasingly difficult to suppress her disapproval of how the law aided the haves over the have nots.”[16]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69. Fay assisted Professor Malcolm Sharp, president of the NLG, who was working on an appeal for Jewish atomic spy Morton Sobell. The NLG, a Communist front organization, would be the base of their activism throughout their lives. Marvin worked with Jewish Professor Hans Zeisel on a landmark study of trials and juries (The American Jury) that would have the effect of opening up juries to the machinations of identity politics, an opening that Fay later exploited, perverting justice and destabilizing institutions.[17]Ibid., 68. Zeisel’s work “later played a key role in assuring a diverse and sympathetic jury for the Huey Newton murder trial.”
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)
They both raised funds for the Rosenberg boys and worked on the electoral campaign of Congressman (and eventual judge and Bill Clinton presidential advisor) Abner Mikva.[18]Ibid., 68.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)
Their activism was always aligned with the Jewish current.

The Stenders and their friends had closely followed the Rosenberg case, which had reached a jolting conclusion that summer of 1953. They watched the McCarthy hearings and cheered when in the spring of 1954 Army chief counsel Joseph Welch dramatically confronted Joseph McCarthy—“Have you no sense of decency, sir?”—in defense of a National Lawyers Guild member.[19]Ibid., 59.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)

Early Career in Berkeley

In the summer of 1956, Fay obtained her law degree, finishing in the top third of her class. She prevailed upon Marvin to move to the Bay Area. There Fay got a position clerking for an elderly Gentile judge on the California Supreme Court, but was horrified to learn he supported anti-miscegenation laws. He was sexist too, so she quit. She and Marvin wanted to work for NLG stalwarts Barney Dreyfus and Charles Garry, the two most prominent Leftist lawyers on the West Coast, but they were facing subpoenas from the House Un-American Activities Committee at the time. They steered Fay to a Black lawyer, and she spent some time defending Black prostitutes, at least until her new boss was disbarred for perjury. Here she enlightened one dark corner of racist America: she “convinced judges to order the same lenient sentences as white prostitutes routinely received.”[20]Ibid., 74-7.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)
Are we to believe that the judges upholding the stern monolith of White supremacy saw the error of their ways merely because of the honeyed suasion of the young Jewish lawyer?

In September 1957, President Eisenhower sent the 101st Airborne Division to Little Rock, Arkansas, to enforce racial integration in the schools there. Fay would spend much of her career working in the civil rights movement.

In 1958, Fay gave birth to a son, Neal, and in early 1960, a girl, Oriane. She stayed home with them for three years even though “she could not keep up with the demands of motherhood and had no desire to manage a household.”[21]Ibid., 80.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)
She was depressed; after all, she had a deeply racist and sexist society to set right. Worse, Marvin chose this time to begin an affair. Fay moved out of their house and rented an apartment. She still thought fondly of Stanley Moore—“obsession” is the word used by her biographer—and considered reuniting with him.[22]Ibid., 81-2.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)

Yet even as a full-time mother, Fay found time to agitate. Her new focus on children, as grudging it was, opened another part of American society to her gaze. Over the past century or so, activist Jews like Fay have relentlessly dragged every aspect of human society into the sphere of political agitation, usually with disastrous results. For a change, however, her work here had positive results. She advocated for natural home birth and breast-feeding, and successfully brought suit to change a California law that barred husbands from the delivery rooms of hospitals. She donated her time to help young mothers learn how to navigate the passage of childbirth, earning the devotion of a number of these women.

Working for Garry and Dreyfus

In 1961, Fay again asked Charles Garry for a job. This time he gave her a part-time position. Garry was Armenian; his main partner, Barney Dreyfus, was the product of an Irish-Jewish marriage. Both men were NLG members and former Communists. For decades they were at the center of most of the groundbreaking radical court cases in the Bay Area. Fay also gained entry to their social circle, particularly the group around leftist Jewish lawyer Bob Treuhaft and his wife Jessica Mitford, both also former Communists. (Most former Communists didn’t repudiate their ideology, needless to say, only the stifling party discipline.) The couple had connections galore, and “threw the best Leftist parties around.”[23]Ibid., 82-8. In 1971, Hilary Rodham would clerk for the former Communist Treuhaft.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)
A decade later, Fay and Jessica would work together on prison reform in California.

Fay joined the San Francisco branch of the NLG, of which Dreyfus was the long-time president. A couple years later he would take over the national organization, and place “civil rights” at the top of the agenda.[24]Ibid., 96.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)

Fay mainly did research for the firm, filing motions or working on appeals; Garry did not consider her capable of trying cases in a courtroom. Her new bosses quickly learned that Fay would relentlessly pursue every possible angle to help win a case. She would identify herself totally with a case, even a minor one, as if it were a deeply important cause. Finally the firm allowed her and another lawyer to take charge of a case at trial, one they considered a loser. Fay promptly violated courtroom etiquette by challenging a routine police test, and waved her hands about “to underscore her arguments.” The judge was “unimpressed” and they lost.[25]Ibid., 90.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)

In 1963, still separated from Marvin (but not divorced), she re-connected with another lover from Reed, Bob Richter, for periodic nights together; this arrangement would last for eighteen years.[26]Ibid., 90-91.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.)
She also saw a number of other men, including Stanley Moore. At the same time, she and Marvin enjoyed occasional pastimes together with the children.

Fay by this time reversed her earlier repudiation, however deep it may have been, of her Jewish heritage. She wanted her children to grow up Jewish. Every year her parents held a large family Passover Seder, and Fay usually attended. Now she brought her children too. Fay wanted them to “benefit from . . . the Torah’s ideals of justice and freedom.” (Ah yes, the Torah’s well-known ideals . . .)[27]Rabbi Yosef Ovadia, former Chief Rabbi of Israel and head of the Council of Torah Sages: “Goyim were born only to serve us. Without that, they have no place in the world . . .” See also Kevin MacDonald’s comments here.

Civil Rights Activism: Freedom Summer

By 1963, Marvin and Fay were following the burgeoning civil rights movement with growing excitement. They joined with others to form the East Bay Friends of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), which became a major fund-raiser for the national organization. The SNCC had grown out of the 1960 sit-in movement, meant to function as a student arm of the civil rights movement. Fay, Marvin and their (Jewish) friends held “hundreds” of fund-raising events over the next few years.[28]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 95.

That fall, SNCC announced a summer campaign for 1964 to register Blacks to vote in Mississippi. SNCC chose Mississippi because it was the most militantly segregationist state.[29]Kenneth Heineman, Put Your Bodies Upon the Wheels: Student Revolt in the 1960s (Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2001), 36. The activists desired drama and clashes, and counted on shocking publicity like Bull Connor’s firehoses and dogs to help accomplish their agenda.[30]Connor was the Chief of Police in Birmingham, Alabama, who used dogs and firehoses to break up civil rights demonstrations in May 1963. The resulting publicity produced widespread disgust and led to the first Civil Rights Act in July 1964. The effort was labelled “Freedom Summer.” Jews across the nation thrilled with excitement; an offensive against the most recalcitrant, racist White bastion was about to begin. (The Jewish liberal Allard Lowenstein shared responsibility for the idea.)[31]Bruce Watson, Freedom Summer: The Savage Season of 1964 That Made Mississippi Burn and Made America a Democracy (New York: Penguin Books, 2010), 63. Almost two-thirds of the approximately 900 White volunteers for Freedom Summer were Jewish.[32]Jonathan Kaufman, Broken Alliance: The Turbulent Times Between Blacks and Jews in America (New York: Touchstone, 1995), 98. It was a movement closely aligned with radical Jewish sensibilities: a majority of the White volunteers “had parents affiliated with the Communist party and other Marxist organizations,” and the event “underscored SNCC’s declining religiosity and growing identification with sexual liberation and revolutionary communism.”[33]Heineman, Put Your Bodies Upon the Wheels, 37, 39. The original Christian pacifism of SNCC had rapidly turned into something quite different under the influence of its new “White” associates.

In early June 1964, Fay signed up to provide free legal help for the SNCC activists. She arrived in Jackson, Mississippi on August 10 for a short stint. Tensions in Mississippi were sky high when Fay arrived; the natives correctly regarded the coming of the Northern radicals as an invasion meant to break down their social structure; local papers often referred to “race-mixing invaders.”[34]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 97. Bruce Watson refers to Freedom Summer volunteers as “invaders” more than a dozen times. Less than a week before, the corpses of civil rights activists Michael Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney had been discovered buried in an earthen dam only eighty miles away; angry locals had killed them.[35]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 97. Schwerner and Goodman were—of course—New York Jews; Chaney was a Black Mississippian.

One aspect of Freedom Summer that still evokes very painful memories from many White participants is interracial strife, particularly concerning sex. This issue ties in with Fay Stender’s later career as prison reformer, as we will see. There was a great deal of sexual coercion on the part of Black men, who could be “persistent and aggressive,” with “scarcely veiled hostility.”[36]Mary Aickin Rothschild, A Case of Black and White: Northern Volunteers and the Southern Freedom Summers, 1964-1965 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1982), 138-39. At the orientation of the White volunteers, a Black staff member had frankly warned of the possibility of rape: “The only way . . . a Negro man has been able to express his manhood is sexually and so you find a tremendous sexual aggressiveness . . . so, in a sense, what passes itself off as desire quite often . . . is probably a combination of hostility and resentment, because he resents what the society has done to him, and he wants to take it out on somebody who symbolizes the establishment . . .”[37]Rothschild, A Case of Black and White, 138. If a woman was strong enough to resist, “she generally became a focus for the hostility of the black men on the project.”[38]Ibid, 139.
(Rothschild, A Case of Black and White, 138.)

By the end of Freedom Summer, Whites and Blacks had gotten a handle on each other—a strongly negative one. Blacks viewed whites—usually Jews—as “smug, superior, [and] condescending,” and Whites labelled Blacks with such terms as “slow,” “lazy,” or “bullshitting Negroes.”[39]Bruce Watson, Freedom Summer, 267. So much for the idea that interaction reduces bigotry.

Thus we see, according to Jewish author Debra Schultz, why it is “extremely difficult to talk about interracial sex in the southern civil rights movement.”[40]Debra Schultz, Going South: Jewish Women in the Civil Rights Movement (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 115. The White women went through sexual hell, hard enough in itself to discuss, but they also didn’t want to air atrocious Black behavior, which would tend to discredit the movement. Very few of them were prepared to reconsider the basis of their activism, so silence was their only option. When Fay Stender finished working for Black rights, she didn’t want to talk about it, either.

 

Legal Work for the Movement

When she returned to Berkeley, Fay “felt energized.”[41]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 98. So did other returnees. Mario Savio, fresh from Mississippi, launched the Free Speech Movement (FSM) at UC Berkeley that fall, kicking off the wider radical crusade of the 1960s. When the police began to clear Sproul Hall of protesting students in the early morning of December 3, Bob Treuhaft was the first one arrested; he had been called by Savio and arrived just in time for the bust.[42]When protestor Joe Blum reached Santa Rita prison after dawn, he heard a voice call out, “Hey Joe! How many of you motherfuckers are coming out here?” It was his friend from Merritt College, Huey Newton, in prison for assault. From Hugh Pearson, The Shadow of the Panther (Addison Wesley, 1994), 73. The Free Speech Movement—surprise—was every bit as Jewish as Freedom Summer. The occupiers of Sproul Hall held a Hanukkah service during the sit-in, and the biggest base of support for the radicals came from the Jews in the student body.[43]Arthur Liebman, Jews and the Left (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1979), 68. Fay “relished seeing the Berkeley campus develop into a hotbed of Movement fervor.”[44]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 98. The fact that it was a Jewish movement was presumably a source of pride for her, given her strong Jewish identity.

The arrestees called for legal help and Fay jumped into action. Her energy at times like this could be awe-inspiring, and the FSM members “secretly fell in love with her.”[45]Ibid., 100.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 98.)
Over the years, many people would describe Fay as attractive, intelligent, and generous, especially when she could immerse herself in a cause. She helped arrange for bail and performed other legal work in a blur of activity.

Shortly afterward, Fay held a Seder (a ceremonial Passover dinner) for SNCC personnel at her home. She “incorporated into it references to Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Civil Rights Movement.”[46]Ibid., 100-01.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 98.)
This was fitting because the Jews had invested heavily in the movement; indeed, they had generally succeeded in guiding the direction of the civil rights campaign from the time they initiated the NAACP in 1909.[47]See Kevin MacDonald, “Jews, Blacks, and Race” here, and E. Michael Jones, The Jewish Revolutionary Spirit and Its Impact on World History, Chapter 16.

Fay had another reason to feel good in the spring of 1965. She and Marvin reunited and leased a house in the Berkeley flats. They made their home a haven for movement friends, who were excited by yet another looming cause: the Vietnam War. (No rest for the wicked.) They plunged into an effort to help young men resisting the draft and others demonstrating against the war.[48]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 101-02. Fay, Marvin, and their lawyer friends Peter Franck and Aryay Lenske set up the Council for Justice (CFJ) to provide legal services for the entire range of leftist causes. The Executive Committee of the CFJ included Beverly Axelrod, who would soon make Eldridge Cleaver famous.[49]Ibid., 102. Franck is Jewish; so was Axelrod.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 101-02.)

The CJF didn’t last long, but not to worry; there is always another cause, another front in the war against White society. Sure enough, one soon appeared, one that carried a menacing—murderous, even—revolutionary swagger, so calculated to set Jewish hearts aflutter. Better yet, this group was Black, and so would be entirely dependent upon Jewish brains and money.

Eldridge Cleaver and the Revolutionary Glorification of Black Criminality

In the wake of Freedom Summer and the racial rancor it generated within the civil rights movement, more pugnacious Blacks rose to ascendancy in SNCC and other civil rights organizations. Stokely Carmichael became chairman of SNCC in May 1966, and quickly repudiated civil disobedience. He embraced “Black Power” and Black separatism, and by the end of the year he expelled Whites from the SNCC. A position paper worked up to explain the move stated, “All White people are racists.”[50]Heineman, 42. Jewish revolutionaries were outraged; one cited Jewish support of civil rights organizations and their “strategic role in organizing and funding the struggle,” and concluded “it was clear to everyone that [Jews] were the primary target” of Carmichael’s new racial militancy.[51]David Horowitz, Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey (New York: The Free Press, 1997), 227. Jews can get awfully sensitive when their revolutionary proxies get it into their heads to steer their own way.

It was in this context that the Black Panthers appeared in the Bay Area in October 1966. The Black Panthers reviled the “White power structure” but were open to alliances with White radicals. Jewish leftists immediately connected with their movement. Advocacy for the Panthers would become the dramatic climax of Fay’s career. She would throw herself into the maelstrom of pro-Panther activism with total incomprehension of their true nature, just like many other Jewish revolutionaries.

We begin with Eldridge Cleaver, because his career was so largely a Jewish creation, and provides necessary background for Fay’s new endeavor. In1966 Cleaver was doing time for attempted rape and attempted murder. His infamous predilection for violating White women would soon be broadcast by Jewish publicists. He read politics and history in prison, but his ideas crystallized upon reading George Breitman’s book, Last Year of Malcolm X: The Evolution of a Revolutionary. Breitman, a Jew, depicted Malcolm at the end of his life as less a religious leader than a socialist revolutionary. “The Malcolm X of the Breitman book went far beyond seeing racism as a flaw in the hearts of the American people. It was endemic to the nation’s economic system, a necessary feature of capitalism. The whole structure had to go.”[52]Eric Cummins, The Rise and Fall of California’s Radical Prison Movement (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), 97. The book impacted Black inmates “like a lightning strike.” They now spurned mere reform or talk of civil rights; “[t]here was nothing to be gained by trying to fit in. The very structure of the society would have to be razed.” Cleaver was the inmate “who followed this line of thought most closely.”[53]All quotes from Cummins, 97. A Jew thus lit yet another spark for Black revolution.

From prison, Cleaver managed to contact Beverly Axelrod, a Jewish lawyer and veteran radical. He hoped that he could pay her legal fees with his writing, and she could win his parole. Axelrod smuggled forbidden literature into prison for Cleaver, and he gave her his numerous tracts, which she sent to Norman Mailer, whose 1957 essay “The White Negro” reminded more than one critic of Cleaver’s scribblings. With Mailer’s enthusiastic approval, she was able to get Ramparts magazine, soon to become the most prominent publication of the New Left, to publish selections.[54]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 113. Robert Scheer, editor at Ramparts (son of a Russian Jewess and a German Gentile), also helped place Cleaver’s work in the magazine; his role would become big enough to earn the description of “perhaps the key person to launch the career of Eldridge Cleaver.”[55]Hugh Pearson, The Shadow of the Panther, 104. Eldridge Cleaver was a Jewish creation, and the Jews were on their way to replacing the SNCC as their controlled vehicle of social demolition.[56]“Cleaver . . . would do more than anyone else to facilitate Huey Newton’s Black Panther Party replacing SNCC as the national symbol of Black disenchantment.” Pearson, 104.

In August 1966, Ramparts published Eldridge’s “Letters from Prison,” which included this famous passage: “Rape was an insurrectionary act. It delighted me that I was defying and trampling upon the White man’s law, upon his system of values, and that I was defiling his women.”[57]Peter Richardson, A Bomb in Every Issue: How the Short, Unruly Life of Ramparts Magazine Changed America (New York: The New Press, 2009), 69-70. Whatever Beverly Axelrod thought of this passage, it didn’t stop her from falling in love with him. By the time she got him out on parole at the end of 1966, they were lovers and planned to marry. Cleaver’s book Soul on Ice came out in the spring of 1967. The book “whipped tough cultural observations in with a froth of sexual lore, and the result was a violence-steeped Maileresque Black sexual-political myth …”[58]Cummins, California’s Radical Prison Movement, 100. It featured letters to and from Beverly and was dedicated to her, “with whom I share the ultimate of love.”[59]Richardson, A Bomb in Every Issue, 121. Jewish media sources received it rapturously; the lefty Jewish critic Maxwell Geismar in his introduction to the book wrote that Cleaver was “simply one of the best cultural critics writing today.”[60]Ibid., 122-23. Cleaver’s warden from San Quentin had a different view of his writing. He thought it was “racist as hell, talking about the White honkies and death to the White man and that sort of thing . . . I consider[ed] it garbage, the words of a diseased mind.” (from Cummins, 98.)
(Richardson, A Bomb in Every Issue, 121.)

Cleaver could portray his crimes as politically motivated all he wanted, but without Jewish publicists, it would have amounted to nothing. Because he was able to gain the ear of radical Jews, the myth of the criminal-as-revolutionary was born: “crime . . . became a revolutionary challenge to the state.”[61]Cummins, 103. This idea—putting the final touch on a dangerous concoction—created “room for criminal male violence in the ideology of the New Left.”[62]Cummins, 103. A direct path was laid down to domestic revolutionary violence and terrorism. It led in a straight line from the Black Panthers, to the Weathermen, the Symbionese Liberation Army, and now, Antifa.

Huey Newton and Fay Stender

At a party celebrating the publication of Soul on Ice, Fay Stender met Cleaver and toasted his engagement to Axelrod.[63]Lise Pearlman, American Justice, 110-11. (The engagement would not last long; Cleaver soon abandoned her for a much younger woman. Cleaver later admitted that he used Axelrod, eleven years his senior, to get out of prison.) It was through Axelrod that Fay would become involved in the case that made her famous.

However, Fay was depressed again. She was no closer to a full partnership in the firm of Garry & Dreyfus; she mostly did research for the “name” partners. She was envious of Beverly Axelrod, the toast of the radical community, and Marvin had embarked upon yet another affair. She needed a new cause. As it happened, it wasn’t long in coming: in the early morning hours of October 28, 1967, the thuggish founder of the Black Panthers, Huey Newton, murdered John Frey.

Oakland police officer John Frey had pulled over a vehicle with Newton and a friend inside. Ten minutes later Frey was dying of five bullet wounds, two in the back from close range.[64]Horowitz and Collier, 29. An hour later Newton showed up at Kaiser Hospital with a gunshot wound in his abdomen. There the cops caught up to him; so did Charles Garry and Fay Stender. Eldridge Cleaver, who had joined the Panthers after his release from prison and now stepped up as leader, had called Axelrod for help and she called Garry.[65]Pearlman, American Justice, 133. Fay “would never forget the impact of seeing Huey Newton lying half-naked under armed guard. . . . At first sight, she felt a strong sexual attraction.”[66]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 118. Her depression vanished; she “instantly realized this might be the career break she was looking for.” She would be at the center of the “hottest Movement case around”: a capital murder trial for a Black man “struggling” against the “racist” American system.[67]Pearlman, American Justice, 110.

Huey Newton in Beverly Axelrod’s apartment, 1967. Props by Cleaver.
Huey Newton in Beverly Axelrod’s apartment, 1967. Props by Cleaver.

Fay wasn’t the only turned-on radical. Newton (who reportedly had a Jewish grandfather[68]Pearson, 292.) and the Panthers had already gotten major press coverage; less than three months before Frey’s murder, Israeli-born Sol Stern had done a write-up on the Panthers for New York Times Magazine (August 6). This was the first exposure the Panthers had received in the mainstream press. “Stern had asked Newton if he was truly prepared to kill a police officer; Newton replied that he was.” Stern couldn’t help concluding that, for the Panthers, “the execution of a police officer would be as natural . . . as the execution of a German soldier by a member of the French Resistance.”[69]Richardson, 92-3. Stern probably knew the “French Resistance” was largely Jewish; see “Was the French Resistance Jewish?” in the Tablet: https://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/bo...jewish In the immediate aftermath of the killing of Frey, the underground newspaper Berkeley Barb (owned and run by the Jew Max Scherr[70]See here for Scherr.), which had been covering the Panthers steadily since early 1967, “hastily concluded” that the Newton case was a “clear case of police provocation” and declared him a political prisoner.[71]Cummins, 113-14. The Barb would continue to cover Newton’s case full-blast.

Many radicals believed that Newton had killed Frey, and hoped it presaged a real revolution.

Fay would assist Garry in the case, along with Barney Dreyfus and another partner, Alex Hoffmann, a diminutive Viennese Jew. Garry planned a “super-aggressive defense . . . raising every possible factual and legal issue,” with a maximum of publicity to arouse sympathy for Newton.[72]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 119. Fay, who had virtually no experience in criminal trials, would do research and write motions and briefs that challenged everything that might lead to plausible grounds for a subsequent appeal. Garry would conduct the trial in the courtroom. Nevertheless, the case looked very bad for the defense; everything pointed to Newton having an electrifying end to his career.

Garry planned to put the “racist” American system on trial and the prosecutor on the defensive. Lise Pearlman describes it as the first “Movement trial”; the Chicago Seven Trial was yet to come.[73]Pearlman, American Justice, 112, 136. The Panthers and their White backers would mount large demonstrations around the courthouse at each pre-trial hearing and all through the trial, and the leftwing press and its Jewish scribes would provide fawning coverage.

The Panthers at the time of Frey’s death numbered only about a dozen people. With a cause célèbre like Newton imprisoned in a racially explosive murder case, Blacks flocked to the Party. Within eighteen months, there were over forty chapters around the country with 5,000 members. Their paper, The Black Panther, launched in Beverly Axelrod’s apartment, grew to a circulation of over 100,000.[74]Ibid., 38.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 112, 136.)
Newton, many remarked, was more valuable in prison, a likely martyr, than free.

The prosecutor quickly obtained an indictment from a grand jury. Fay and Barney Dreyfus immediately prepared a constitutional challenge to the composition of the jury, because it was too White. It didn’t reflect a “cross-section of the community.”[75]Ibid., 117-18.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 112, 136.)
They invested immense effort and time on this angle. (Their argument would fail; they would appeal; again denied.[76]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 121.) This, together with their later agitation against the composition of the trial jury, would have the terrible effect of making juries and the judicial process subject to identity politics, and lead to rampant Black juror sabotage of criminal cases against Blacks.

In January 1968, Fay began visiting Newton regularly in the Alameda County Jail. She was “delighted at his warm reception,”[77]Ibid., 122.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 121.)
and began dressing more attractively, with makeup, on her visits. She was “but one of a growing number of his new female devotees.”[78]Pearlman, American Justice, 151. Newton was able to bamboozle her completely. He told her he learned to read after high school by repeatedly attempting Plato’s Republic. She in turn shared personal details with him, and was soon panting, “he is truly a great man. Huey is a loving, gentle, kind person . . . He has a righteous force, a fierce combination of moral outrage and anger.”[79]Ibid., 151.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 151.)
What is this but pure female emotion, utterly duped by radical ideology and a dangerous but charming poseur?

In late February 1968, the government released the Kerner Report. It infamously blamed White racism for Black failure and the Black inner-city riots of the preceding few years, providing top-level government backing for the claim that Huey Newton’s actions were simply the result of frustration with oppression.

Five weeks later, after a night of whoring in Memphis, the Reverend Martin Luther King met God, unexpectedly.[80]In his book And the Walls Came Tumbling Down, Ralph Abernathy, close associate of Martin Luther King, testifies that King spent time with two women that night, neither one his wife, and beat up a third. See http://articles.latimes.com/1989-11-12/books/bk-188...athy/2 In protest, Blacks across the nation attacked and burned down their own communities.[81]After the Watts riots in August 1965, in which the Blacks of Los Angeles had destroyed much of their community, they nevertheless felt that they had “had chastised the White power structure.” Heineman, 41. President Johnson had to call in 13,000 troops to quell the violence and arson in Washington, D.C. Amidst the excitement, Eldridge Cleaver gathered four carloads of heavily armed Panthers and set out to “off” some “pigs” and “stoke the image of [the Panthers] as the future revolutionary vanguard.”[82]Pearson, 154. A shootout ensued. Police killed one Panther and hauled Cleaver off to prison. Cleaver insisted he and the Panthers were innocently “preparing a picnic” for the morrow.[83]Pearson, 155. “To the Bastille!” brayed the Berkeley Barb at this “police outrage.” Susan Sontag and Norman Mailer, among others, demanded Cleaver’s release.[84]Cummins, 121.

Meanwhile, Fay worked round the clock on the case. She attended Panther meetings, read books that Huey assigned her, and prepared motions. When the state rejected her challenge of the grand jury, she assembled a panel of sociologists to help her strategize for the trial. This was “a novel concept. Today professional jury consultants are often used in high profile . . . cases . . . but back then the use of sociologists . . . was pioneering.”[85]Pearlman, American Justice, 161-62. They specifically sought ways to shape a jury to their liking, i.e., one with as many minorities as possible. Fay reached out to David Wellman, a friend and movement journalist who was working on a Ph.D. in “race relations” at Berkeley. He brought his colleagues Bob Blauner, a “confirmed Marxist,” Professor Jan Dizard, and Dr. Bernard Diamond to meet with Fay.[86]Ibid., 177.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 161-62.)
Fay and her “experts” prepared hundreds of questions that Charles Garry could ask prospective jurors to root out racial “bias.” This is another example showing that outsiders or Jews will not play by the “gentleman’s rules” that bind together a homogeneous high-trust society. They literally act as a social corrosive.

Garry and Fay knew full well that their chances of winning an acquittal, or a hung jury, rested on whether they could seat Blacks on the jury. Did they really think that Blacks would judge the evidence with greater acumen and dispassion than middle-class Whites? Not bloody likely. They were well aware that minorities on juries were prone to siding with their racial brothers at the expense of facts.[87]Ibid., 217.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 161-62.)
Garry wanted “to create the impression that every member of a minority group would understand his client’s perspective better than Whites, but he knew better” [emphasis added].[88]Ibid., 223.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 161-62.)
He knew many Blacks in Oakland did not view the Panthers positively. He was banking on naked racial solidarity to spring a murderer and increase his own fame. Did Fay think of the implications of their strategy? Or did she simply accept the idea that Newton was justified in his actions because of White racism?

The Newton Trial

The trial began with jury selection on July 15, 1968. Judge Monroe Friedman presided. The prosecutor was the tall, courtly, almost ridiculously decent Lowell Jensen. Even Pearlman points out the contrast in style and behavior between the prosecution and the defense; it was exactly what one might expect between a WASP and a group consisting mostly of Jews.[89]Ibid., 215.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 161-62.)

Security for the trial was unprecedented. Outside, Panthers and thousands of supporters marched, chanted, and screamed. Some held signs reading, “The Nation Shall be Reduced to Ashes, the Sky’s the Limit if Anything Happens to Huey.”[90]Pearson, 167. It was blatant intimidation of the judge and jury, orchestrated by the radicals, and should never have been permitted.

For three days, Fay trotted out her experts to explain to Judge Friedman how biased Whites were: Jan Dizard, Bob Blauner, Alex Hoffmann, Dr. Sanford (one of the authors of The Authoritarian Personality), Dr. Diamond, and even Hans Zeisel from Chicago.[91]Pearlman, American Justice, 210-13. It is hard to see how the affair could have been more Jewish; only Dizard and Sanford were Gentiles. The judge denied most of the defense’s requests, but did permit a longer questioning period for possible jurors. Questioning of the jury pool then took nearly three excruciating weeks. One defense strategy ironically backfired; most Blacks stated under oath that they couldn’t impose the death penalty under any conditions, and Jensen logically proceeded to exclude them, greatly reducing the number of Blacks who could sit on the jury. Both Fay and Garry had actually hoped that minorities would lie about their feelings on the death penalty so they could be seated and vote against death, if it came to that.[92]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 126. The fact that the defense assumed they would lie, and that they were eager to profit from it, says everything we need to know about their ethics. Such are the imperatives of tikkun olam.

The jury seated five minorities, including one Black man. Jensen, fair to a fault, didn’t strive to exclude minorities just because they were minorities.

The defense put Newton, a good speaker, on the stand. He denied shooting Frey. Then, with Garry prompting him, he “talked at length . . . about hundreds of years of oppression,” over the objections of Jensen, because Judge Friedman “was fascinated” by the history lesson.[93]Pearlman, American Justice, 284-85. Newton, of course, had no direct knowledge of “hundreds of years” of oppression; his “testimony” was totally extraneous to the case. Newton swore that the Panthers were committed to nonviolence, at virtually the same moment protestors outside were chanting, “Revolution has come – Time to pick up your gun,” and “Off the pigs.”[94]Ibid., 286.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 284-85.)

The Black juror, David Harper, “found himself profoundly affected” when Newton testified about racism in American society.[95]Ibid., 327.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 284-85.)

When cross-examined by Jensen, Newton claimed that Officer Frey had been rough with him, called him “nigger,” and pushed him; he fell, Frey pulled his gun, and Newton felt a hot flash on his stomach. He claimed he remembered nothing more.[96]Ibid., 287-88.
(Pearlman, American Justice, 284-85.)
Garry brought Dr. Diamond to the stand to testify that soldiers shot in the stomach commonly experience amnesia and unconsciousness.[97]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 130-31.

Jensen’s final remarks included a “chilling” account of the killing. Only Newton could have fired the fatal shots, he concluded. Garry then closed. He compared Newton to Christ and invoked both the Holocaust and the Armenian genocide. With tears in his eyes, he embraced Newton and implored the jury to find him innocent.[98]Pearlman, American Justice, 298-302.

During jury deliberations, the lone Black man and a Cuban held out for acquittal. Finally they compromised by opting for a verdict of manslaughter. It was a “stunning” victory for the defense, but it left Fay and Alex Hoffmann devastated (Pearlman speculates that Hoffmann, a homosexual, may have been in love with Newton).[99]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, xiv. Newton was sentenced to two to fifteen years, under the “indeterminate” sentencing law. It was an outrageous violation of justice, worked by Jews and non-Whites at the expense of a White policeman and White society. The demoralization of White society consequent upon such a violation of justice would be hard to calculate, but surely it would have serious and long-lasting effects.

Fay began working on the appeal the next morning. Garry was busy with other cases, and handed it over to her. She would read the 4,000-page trial transcript, and eventually write a near 200-page brief arguing for a reversal of the verdict, even though historically there was very little chance for success. She threw herself into fund-raising, recruiting celebrities to lend their names to the “Free Huey” campaign, and speaking at colleges, all with her customary full-bore intensity.[100]Pearlman, American Justice, 357-58. She also reached out to rabbis involved in civil rights work: “Fay relished making connections between her religious heritage and her current mission. In her view, Newton’s freedom should be the rabbis’ cause as well.”[101]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 143-44.

She visited Newton in prison, along with Alex Hoffmann. As his attorney, they could meet in a small room with some privacy. She felt it her duty to keep Newton’s spirits up. “She seemed . . . to be almost in love with Newton. They looked deeply at each other during her visits, sometimes touching when the guards’ attention wandered.”[102]Horowitz and Collier, 31. They did more than touch; once “a startled guard reported seeing Stender bent down apparently engaged in oral sex with Newton.”[103]Pearlman, American Justice, 358. It was a combination Fay couldn’t resist: her own powerful sexual appetite, a poor victim of brutish White racism, an intimate moment with a real revolutionary. Did she think of her husband? Her children? Venereal disease?

In the summer of 1969, Fay and Marvin took time for a trip to Europe and Israel. They “marveled at the transformation in Israel wreaked by the collective blood, sweat and tears of so many Jews.” A relative with an Uzi on his back showed them around what Lise Pearlman calls the “newly liberated” West Bank.[104]Both quotes from Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 150. Fay would later become “distanced” from other leftists over the issue of Palestine (they often denounced Israeli imperialism); she acknowledged the Arabs had a right to the land, but so did “the survivors of the Holocaust.”[105]Ibid., 336.
(Both quotes from Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 150.)

When they returned, Fay left Garry & Dreyfus and joined with Peter Franck (her old friend from the Council for Justice) in a new radical law “collective” in Berkeley: Franck, Stender, Hendon, Hill, & Ziegler. All but Hill were Jewish. Collectives were the new thing; they would have no distinctions in status or pay. Naturally, they would devote themselves to “Movement” work.

She finished her brief for Newton’s appeal in January 1970. In what amounted to a grand fishing expedition, she claimed, among other things, that the grand jury and the trial jury did not reflect Newton’s “peer group,” despite the fact that the prosecutor had not excluded minorities per se. Fay and Garry presented oral arguments on February 11. The appellate decision would come down in late May.

George Jackson and the Soledad Brothers

Meanwhile, Fay met George Jackson.

Huey Newton had told Fay about George Jackson and asked if she could help him. Jackson (whose family had relocated to California) was serving a life sentence in Soledad Prison for a $70 robbery, according to his sympathizers. The truth is a bit otherwise. He had committed a long string of muggings and burglaries, and the State of California finally wised up and sentenced the teenager to one year to life.[106]Paul Liberatore, The Road to Hell: The True Story of George Jackson, Stephen Bingham, and the San Quentin Massacre. (New York: The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1996), 15-16. He could have gotten out in a year or two, if he had behaved. He didn’t. He and a buddy formed a prison gang, ran a gambling ring, sold drugs and alcohol, and pimped homosexual prisoners.[107]Liberatore, 16-17. He fought with guards and beat other prisoners. The prison administration considered him a violent sociopath. Consequently, his sentenced was continually extended, and he spent years in solitary with his cell door welded shut.[108]Horowitz and Collier, 32.

Jackson was intelligent and could express himself well. Like Cleaver, he read revolutionary literature—Marx, Lenin, Mao, Fanon—and wrote feverishly. He believed that America’s Blacks were a “colonized” people (an idea picked up by the Weathermen); that “the country’s institutions depended on their continued enslavement and subjugation; and that this state of affairs could only be reversed by an armed, violent revolution.”[109]Max Nelson, “Extreme Remedies” in The Paris Review, December 7, 2015. Accessed November 19, 2017: https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/12/07/extre...edies/ While his yearning for violent revolution was genuine, he would admit that Marxism was his “hustle.”[110]Horowitz and Collier, 32. Jackson was a leader and a good organizer, and formed a group of dedicated followers.

In mid-January 1970, shortly before Newton told Fay about him, Jackson had murdered a White prison guard in cold blood. It was his response to the killing (by White prison guards) of three Blacks who were engaged in a prison-yard fight with Whites. Jackson and two others were charged with the murder and became famous—the subversive publicity machine roared into action—as the “Soledad Brothers.”

Fay visited Jackson in Soledad in early February. He spoke to her with feigned diffidence and her “heart melted.”[111]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 168. She immediately felt a strong attraction to him, and decided to take on his case. She assembled a legal team, the Soledad Brothers Defense Committee, and worked almost round the clock. Some of her friends smiled at her insistence that this undertaking was (now) the most important cause in the world.

George Jackson
George Jackson

She issued a leaflet: “Three young Black inmates . . . may soon be murdered by the State of California . . . They are innocent. Their right to a fair trial is being systematically and intentionally destroyed by the prison administration . . . They will be railroaded to the gas chamber unless we move to stop this injustice.”[112]Ibid., 173.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 168.)
It was a typical effusion from Stender: literally hysterical.

Fay interviewed many Soledad inmates in connection with the Jackson case. Few of them had knowledge of the murder but all of them had grievances to share. Fay believed every word they said, and conceived a major effort at prison reform. This reform was firmly connected in her mind with revolution. Fay was convinced the prisoners were “going to be in the vanguard of the social revolution.”[113]Horowitz and Collier, 36. She “embraced the need for social revolution [and] recognized people might die,” flippantly justifying it all: “People are dying all the time. The important thing is that they die in the right cause.”[114]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 205. She would come to regret these sentiments, but not before blood was spilled.

Newton Freed and Fay Spurned

On May 29, 1970, the appellate court decision in the Newton case was unsealed; it was a totally unexpected reversal of conviction. The court ordered a new trial, and Newton was released on bail in August.[115]Ibid., 157-58. The decision did not accept Fay’s argument about jury composition, but rather faulted the jury instructions of the judge.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 205.)
Fay, who was entirely responsible for the appeal, had sprung a murderer, and basked in the sort of fame that only subversives could value. At a party the night of his release, reveling Panthers declared that Newton needed a woman; they corralled Fay and escorted the two to a bedroom. Fay was ecstatic and later bragged about it to female colleagues, some of whom were appalled. Fay thought it meant that the Panthers viewed her as a real comrade, but Pearlman suggests that Newton simply regarded her as another woman he could use.[116]Ibid., 214-15.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 205.)
In fact, it wasn’t long before he coldly snubbed her in public, and that was that. She had spent thousands of hours laboring joyfully for a psychopathic murderer, and garnered the natural reward.

Newton in the meantime lived the high life: he hobnobbed with lefty Hollywood celebs, snorted cocaine and hosted various beautiful women in his penthouse in downtown Oakland, paid for by Jewish movie producer Bert Schneider.[117]Ibid., 223-24.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 205.)
In saving him from the electric chair, Fay would ensure that many other people would fall victim to Newton’s violence, including numerous murders that he committed personally or ordered his henchmen to carry out. Huey lingered on for years, a thug posing less and less plausibly as public benefactor, until a younger thug shot him down on the street in 1989.

Fay and Huey Newton at a press conference upon his release, August 5, 1970.
Fay and Huey Newton at a press conference upon his release, August 5, 1970.

Working for George Jackson

Meanwhile Fay worked with her customary manic energy on Jackson’s case, seventy hours a week. She brought in a lead counsel, and planned to put “the system” on trial as in the Newton case. She couldn’t see that Jackson was using her as Newton had. She raised hundreds of thousands of dollars with speeches and appeals, and chaired fund-raising events featuring Jane Fonda and Dick Gregory. She was riding high on hectic activism and fame.

It was a time heavy with portents. The Black Panther Fred Hampton had been shot dead the previous December in what was portrayed as a police assassination; Charles Garry charged the police with genocide against the Panthers; the Weathermen went underground and began bombing shortly after; in early May 1970 the Kent State shootings claimed the lives of four students amid enormous antiwar demonstrations. It seemed to many as if the system was on the point of dissolution. The revolutionaries were living day to day in a state of acute excitement, and Fay was as giddy as any of them.

Fay began collecting and editing the letters Jackson had written in prison, hoping to duplicate the success Beverly Axelrod had had with Soul on Ice. Publication would generate funds for the defense, provide favorable publicity, and promote her career. Jackson had written at length about his violent revolutionary fantasies (waging guerrilla warfare, poisoning the water supply of Chicago, taking bloody revenge on the system, etc.), but Fay deleted the worst of it because she wanted to portray him as a sympathetic victim of racism.[118]Horowitz and Collier, 37; Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 186-87. She thought she could win at trial with that strategy, but he had no faith in that avenue and was intent on a prison breakout.

She took to visiting Jackson in a miniskirt and high boots. She thought she was perfectly fit to relate to prisoners: “our interaction is more flowing, more natural, because I’m a woman. It might also be because they know I regard them as brothers and believe in them.”[119]Douglas Perry, “Why Reedie and radical lawyer Fay Stender fought for prison reform – and paid with her life,” The Oregonian, June 27, 2015. Accessed September 14, 2017: http://www.oregonlive.com/living/index.ssf/2015/06/...r.html She believed in them, all right: she began having sex with Jackson in the semi-private visiting rooms that attorneys could use, and on one occasion prison guards dragged her out half disrobed.[120]Horowitz and Collier, 36. At other times, she would embrace Jackson libidinously in front of other (appalled) lawyers, letting him rub against her “for relief.”[121]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 204 She had also initiated a lesbian affair with a young female legal assistant.

Fay recruited volunteers to help with the Jackson case as well as with other prisoners—often young female volunteers. It became a dangerous mixture of ultra-violent felons, heady social activism, and hormones. Fay actually encouraged her volunteers to “comfort” the inmates any way they could, meaning sex.[122]Ibid., 204.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 204)
And they did:

The inmates courted any woman who expressed interest in them. With few exceptions . . . the women responded like besotted rock star groupies. One guard confiscated a nude picture of a paralegal. Women legal assistants or attorneys . . . surprised the wardens when they used private conference rooms for trysts.[123]Ibid., 242.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 204)

Needless to say, Fay and her horny assistants earned the burning contempt and anger of the prison administration. Fostering the resentment of the inmates and encouraging their violent revolutionary fantasies made the California prisons a ferment of discontent. Correctional officers could see an explosion on the horizon.

The Break with Jackson

Fay’s partnership with Jackson would not last long. He had no desire to pose as a downtrodden victim in a courtroom and was planning a breakout. He had followers training for guerrilla warfare in the California hills, and planned to lead them personally in a war against America after making his escape. He thirsted for revenge against the White man. He began to demand that Fay and others smuggle weapons and explosives into the prison.[124]Horowitz and Collier, 40. Fay denied this request, but others hesitated.

Jackson’s first attempt to escape was a spectacularly bloody failure. On 7 August 1970, Jackson’s seventeen-year-old brother Jonathan invaded the Marin County Courthouse armed with guns purchased by the notorious Communist Angela Davis, who had fallen in love with George and become involved in his defense. (The lovebirds had bonded over the prospect of killing White people; she gushed to him in a letter, “We have to learn to rejoice when pig’s blood is spilled.”[125]Liberatore, 82.) Jonathan intended to take hostages and force the liberation of the Soledad Brothers. He armed several convicts who were testifying in court and they seized the judge, prosecutor, and three jurors. The judge, Jonathan, and two of the convicts perished in a shoot-out before they could make their getaway. (Davis eventually faced trial for murder, but was acquitted, permitting her to forge a career as lifelong pain-in-the-ass to White America.)

Jonathan Jackson leading hostages out of the Marin County Courthouse. The judge has a shotgun taped around his neck.
Jonathan Jackson leading hostages out of the Marin County Courthouse. The judge has a shotgun taped around his neck.

In October 1970, Soledad Brother, Fay’s collection of George’s prison letters, was published. This led to a crisis. Jackson was unhappy that Fay toned down his image by deleting his more homicidal musings, and Jackson’s family and Black supporters were angry that White lawyers were claiming the royalties from the book for the Soledad Defense Committee. White supporters had already been the target of paranoid denunciations and even violence from Blacks around the case who didn’t understand the work they were doing or simply resented White solicitude.

The book portrayed prison officials as vicious racists and brought crushing press attention to bear on conditions in California prisons. It created a highly volatile situation in the prison system, endangering both guards and inmates.[126]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 228-29.

Jackson demanded that the money from his book, and other monies going to his Defense Committee, be diverted to his guerrilla army “training” in the Santa Cruz hills. Fay refused to cooperate, insisting they go to trial. It appears she shrank from a real plunge into violent revolution, although she considered Jackson a “comrade” in the “struggle.” Jackson somehow managed to divert defense money to his real comrades, and deceived his family about where the money went; the result was that his family and friends conceived a hatred for the “thieving” White lawyers. The disagreement between Fay and Jackson over the book royalties culminated in an “epic shouting match,”[127]Horowitz and Collier, 40. and Jackson fired her, whereupon she quit.

It was February 1971. She was emotionally exhausted and sought comfort at home, reading novels in her bathrobe and putting on weight. Her marriage was turning sour again as well. Her departure from the case drained much of the life out of the effort: “quiet hopelessness has taken possession of everyone,” lamented a friend.[128]Horowitz and Collier, 41. Tragically, however, Fay would never be free of George Jackson. His Black followers quickly jumped to the conclusion that she was a “turncoat,” and their hatred would pursue her for years. The police would later uncover a “hit list” with Fay’s name on it. The only thing Fay had gained from working for Blacks was a deep sense of fear.

Fay and Prison Reform: the Prison Law Project

California wasn’t getting off that easy, however. Fay quickly floated a new venture, the Prison Law Project, with nine young female lawyers and assistants, including her lover. They intended to work on prison reform in general and render legal help to individual prisoners. Fay brought suits against the California prison system, gained grants from the federal government, and sparked legislative investigations of the prisons. Prison officials (who were working with poor human and financial resources) began to feel even more besieged. Conditions in the main prisons were bad, and some reform was necessary, but coupling this reform to a revolutionary agenda was equivalent to lighting a powder keg.

As soon as word got around the prisons about the project (and the young White females running it), letters flooded in from inmates pleading for their help. Again, the women were intoxicated in the presence of purported outlaws and revolutionaries. One of them later said, “Every visit was like a first date, like a drug.”[129]Eve Pell, We Used to Own the Bronx: Memoirs of a Former Debutante. (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2009), 175. The quote is from Erlinda Castro. Fay herself resumed her old ways; she was kicked out of one prison for making out with yet another Black convict, a man who later murdered two people.[130]Ibid., 182-83, 186.
(Eve Pell, We Used to Own the Bronx: Memoirs of a Former Debutante. (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2009), 175. The quote is from Erlinda Castro.)

In late June 1971, Newton again went to trial for the murder of Officer Frey; it resulted in a hung jury thanks to a Hispanic female.[131]Pearlman, American Justice, 394. A third trial also ended with a hung jury, and District Attorney Lowell Jensen reluctantly but wisely decided to drop the case.

Two months later, on August 21, the saga of George Jackson came to an end in San Quentin Prison, where he had been transferred. Somehow, he got hold of a gun, probably slipped to him by one of his radical lawyers. After a meeting with his new lawyers, he was taken back to his cell block, stopped and searched:

A clip of bullets hidden in his Afro wig clattered to the floor. Suddenly he was brandishing a 9-millimeter automatic . . . “The Dragon has come,” he said to the guards

. . . he ordered the cell blocks opened . . . There was a moment of euphoria and then the realization that there was nowhere to go. In the next few minutes, Jackson and his group of supporters released friends and rounded up guards and enemies. The scene quickly careened out of control; within minutes, three [White] guards and two White convicts lay in Jackson’s cell choking on their own blood, their throats slit by razor blades embedded in toothbrushes [Jackson shot one of the guards in the head point-blank]. As authorities moved to isolate the uprising, Jackson realized that the game was up. True to his vision of himself, he yelled to his friends, “It’s me they want!” and charged into the prison yard, firing blindly at the guard towers above, where sharpshooters lay on their bellies, waiting for him to come into their sights. The first of the two shots . . . splintered his shinbone; the next one caught him in the tenth rib, ricocheted up his spine, and exited the roof of his skull.[132]Horowitz and Collier, 42-3.

The news hit Fay very hard; she clearly still loved him. A week later the Weather Underground carried out three bombings in Jackson’s honor; later that year Bob Dylan recorded “George Jackson,” calling the vicious murderer “a man I really loved.” In early September, the inmates of Attica Prison in New York rose in rebellion; although they had not planned the uprising, the death of Jackson had triggered strong emotions among the prisoners. The revolt ended with the deaths of twenty-nine inmates and nine guards after a very heavy-handed suppression of the revolt.[133]Larry Getlen. “The True Story of the Attica Prison Riot.” New York Post, August 20, 2016. Viewed October 1, 2019: https://nypost.com/2016/08/20/the-true-story-of-the-...-riot/ One can blame the cops for brutality, but obviously their fears had reached a pitch from years of agitation and the specter of prison revolt. Several factors combined to cause the unrest in American prisons in this era, but Fay Stender must take her share of the blame for her shamefully ignorant activism.[134]A commission called by California Governor Reagan to investigate the Jackson affair placed much blame on Stender and the “bad press Stender had generated about Soledad Prison . . . Prison officials insisted Stender had egged on the prisoners’ rights movement by spreading false and incendiary charges of inmate mistreatment and baseless and lawsuits.” Pearlman, American Justice, 404. She made herself liable for blood.

When Fay decided not to defend Jackson’s prison buddies who carried out the bloodbath on the day he died (the “San Quentin Six), her Prison Law Project broke apart bitterly. The young hard-liners could not brook abandoning these prison “comrades.” Fay’s lesbian lover became her most severe critic, accusing her of running the law “collective” as an autocrat. Half of the Project split away to form a new legal team, and some of them never spoke to Fay again.[135]Horowitz and Collier, 44-45.

Fay plunged ahead. In December 1972, she won a major “victory” against indeterminate sentences. Under these old guidelines, offenders would be sentenced to (say) “one to ten years,” and the system could then evaluate an offender and release him when he deserved it, or continue to hold him. When the California Supreme Court ruled against indeterminate sentences, it opened the door for—something Fay should have foreseen—mandatory longer sentences.[136]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 281. The result was more prisoners and longer sentences. As so often, Fay’s activism had made conditions worse because she could not see the value of compromise.

By early 1973, her funds had run out, and Fay shut down the Prison Law Project. She was actually relieved. By this time, Fay had finally come to see the real nature of the convicts she had tried to help. She told Marvin that of all the men she had freed, “only one, absolutely only one, stayed out.” More than one had committed rapes or murders after being freed. She told a friend that hardcore convicts “had a screw loose somewhere . . . there was always a reason they were incarcerated.”[137]The first quote is from Horowitz and Collier, 46; the second is from Lise Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 283. What a tangled complex of feelings must have accompanied the epiphany! To her credit, she admitted her mistake to friends.

Fay at Loose Ends: Feminism and Gay Rights

Fay was disenchanted and depressed. She had turned forty. She had lost her female lover, was losing her husband, and her most cherished political cause had blown up in her face. It was 1973, and the entire “Movement” had sputtered to a halt and was in the process of metamorphosing; the radicals had lost their faith in militant activism outside “the system” and began to enter that system in droves to work from within. The process was not smooth; many leftists spent years coming to terms with the collapse of the movement.

Since any facet of society could be turned into a “cause,” Fay would not be adrift for long. Soon she turned (along with many other radical Jews) to feminist and homosexual issues. She entered another relationship with a woman, called “Katherine” by Pearlman. One of the cases she became involved with helped push California law into accepting the “rights” of lesbians in custody cases.[138]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 313-14. Another gash in the fabric of Gentile society.

In 1978, Fay went on a tour of Europe with her old friend Hilde Stern. It was a soul-searching jaunt. She wanted to ponder her future direction, and whether to try to save her marriage. Once in Europe, her Jewish identity rose to dominate her consciousness. She visited the synagogues and places of Jewish interest wherever she went. In Athens, viewing the ancient structures on the Acropolis, she felt only “an overwhelming urge to reaffirm her own heritage” and peevishly wondered “why her professors had never credited ancient Jewish culture with any lasting influence on Western tradition.”[139]Ibid., 330.
(Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 313-14.)

In Geneva she visited friends and gifted them, as if it were a priceless artifact, a letter she had kept from George Jackson. She went to Stockholm for a UN conference on children. There she began to do push-ups in imitation of the imprisoned Jackson, who had done hundreds every day, and worked on manuscripts about Jackson and feminism.[140]Horowitz and Collier, 50-52. She thought about living permanently in Sweden, but it troubled her that Sweden had continued its relations with Germany during World War II. She proceeded to Warsaw for another conference; she had read up on the Warsaw uprising of 1943, and was angered to find so little commemoration of the event in the city. She was well aware of the Jewish history in Poland and was in high dudgeon against Polish “Anti-Semitism.” At the Warsaw Symphony she was “anguished by the absence of any musicians who looked even faintly Jewish.”[141]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 342-43. (Would she have any sympathy for Whites, who in the near future will look in vain for fellow White faces in their own nations? Would she see the contradiction if she did not?)

She also thought about her sexual identity. She decided to break up with Marvin for good and reunite with her lesbian lover. In early 1979, she returned to Berkeley. She and Marvin ended their marriage amicably, and Fay kept the house and the children, who lived at home in their young adulthood. Fay resumed her relationship with “Katherine.”

The End

May 28, 1979. The doorbell rang, well after midnight. Fay’s son Neal, used to unexpected visitors, opened the door. A Black man stuck a gun in his face and demanded Fay Stender. Neal led him upstairs and roused his mother from bed. The man demanded an answer to a chilling question: “Don’t you feel you betrayed George Jackson?” Fay calmly denied it. He ordered her to write a dictated note and sign it: “I, Fay Stender, admit I betrayed George Jackson and the prison movement when they needed me most.” She protested but finished writing. He pocketed the note then demanded money; Fay escorted him downstairs and gave him some from her kitchen drawer. He walked past her to the door as if to leave, then wheeled, crouched, and shot her five times with hollow-point .38 caliber bullets.[142]The shooting is described by Pearlman in Call Me Phaedra, 355-58, and by Horowitz and Collier, 52-55.

Fay suffered terrible damage to her liver, chest and arms; she was paralyzed from the waist down. She would face months or years of rehabilitation and would never again lead a normal life. She didn’t leave the hospital until late July, going straight into a rehabilitation center.

The shooting shocked the radical community in the Bay Area. The police shared with reporters a purported “hit list” with the names of Fay and others on it. Fay’s family and friends were terrified; some of them asked for police protection. Marvin obtained a gun permit and sent their children into hiding. A few radicals began to suspect the truth about convicts.

Despite her depression and pain, she resolved to put her assailant away. To find justice, she would need the help of—exquisite irony—Lowell Jensen, still District Attorney. Jensen, incredibly, bore her no ill will, and assigned her case to a good prosecutor.

The police quickly apprehended a suspect, Edward Brooks. He was an ex-con and a member of a prison gang co-founded by George Jackson, the Black Guerrilla Family. He had shot Fay from a sense of loyalty to Jackson and other prisoners whom Fay had supposedly betrayed.[143]Horowitz and Collier, 56.

The shooting of Fay highlighted the hypocrisy in the radical community. Almost all of them now supported the police and district attorney and wanted the shooter prosecuted, even though they had “spent their professional lives denouncing the criminal justice system as an instrument of racial and class oppression and defending accused criminals as social victims.”[144]Ibid., 56.
(Horowitz and Collier, 56.)
The hypocrisy reached a greater poignancy when a former colleague of Fay’s, a member of the Prison Law Project, appeared on the shooter’s defense team, stating later, “I was just seething at the way the White Left reacted to Brooks’ arrest. It was racist. They had never taken this attitude . . . in the past. . . . And yet, when one of their own was shot, they immediately cooperated with the cops.”[145]Ibid., 57-8.
(Horowitz and Collier, 56.)

Fay was plunged into despair, alternating between self-pity and bitter anger over how the Blacks had repaid her ministrations. She could barely play the piano and could not sit up for long; she found relief only by lying on her back. She sent her Sapphic lover away, unable to have (what amounted to) abnormal relations. She really wanted Marvin back for his steady strength, but he had a new woman and declined her hints. She resolved to commit suicide, but wanted to see Brooks put away first. She would have to summon the strength to testify against him, in the same courtroom she had defended Huey Newton so long before.

On January 18, 1979, Fay took the stand. Charles Garry was in attendance, but not a single Black recipient of her aid showed up to support her. The jury quickly found Brooks guilty, and a few weeks later he was sentenced to seventeen years.[146]Ibid., 62-3.
(Horowitz and Collier, 56.)

Fay then burned all her papers, moved to Hong Kong, and after a good deal of hesitation and anguish, killed herself on May 19, 1980. She was forty-eight. Her body was brought back for a Jewish funeral, attended by 300. David Horowitz, former editor of Ramparts, was present; he was struck by how few Blacks attended. (He would write a long article on Fay, based on his conversations with Eve Pell, who had worked with Fay on the Prison Law Project.) Another radical in attendance observed, “no matter what you do, if you are White, it doesn’t matter if you spent your whole life working for Blacks.”[147]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 430.

Huey Newton did not attend the funeral; the next month he would earn a sham Ph.D. from UC-Santa Cruz (submitting—perhaps even writing— a paper entitled “War Against the Panthers: a Study in Repression in America”[148]Pearson, 287.). He would be shot dead on an Oakland street in August 1989, also by a member of the Black Guerrilla Family. He was forty-seven, the same age as Fay when she was shot.[149]Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 440.

The saga of Fay Stender thus sputtered to an end.

Conclusion

Fay’s life perfectly illustrates the nature of radical Jewish activism and the immense harm that it can inflict upon society. Her work amounted to nothing more than “disruption of White society.” Her Jewish perspective could not register the rationales that underlay the compromises between perfect justice and practicality that form the myriad bonds of a Gentile culture. White society is not perfect; it is not perfect because man’s nature and the world are not perfect. However, it is on balance just, and, above all, workable. To strain mightily to “perfect” the solid patterns of a settled society is to create tensions that inevitably build to an explosion. The explosion in Fay’s case saw guards massacred in San Quentin and five bullets pierce her own body.

Fay Stender indicted the entire justice system as “racist” without bothering to regard the nature of Black social pathology, or the damage that her activism could cause to a society that had settled itself around a workable solution to pervasive Black crime, or the personal danger that she risked for herself and her family.

One last note on personality. I believe that Fay possessed a measure of charity; that is, a will to do good. No one is purely evil, of course, and somewhere in the thicket of ego, ambition, leftist ideology, and blind selfishness that was Fay Stender, there was at least a small core of good intentions. Unfortunately, her good will labored under defects greater than these failings. First, unhampered female emotion crimped her ability to see a reasonable approach to problems. (A Gentile spouse of that era would certainly have forced her to accept far tighter boundaries on her activity.) There was the contempt she felt—possibly amounting to hatred—for Whites and their society. Most importantly, the nature of her Jewish radicalism, as applied to a Gentile society, could be nothing but deleterious. If a mathematical formula could be found to represent the harm that an activist Jew can do to a White society, it would have to incorporate a special symbol representing “one Fay Stender.”

Notes

[1] The main sources on the life of Fay Stender are David Horowitz and Peter Collier, “Requiem for a Radical” in Destructive Generation: Second Thoughts About the Sixties (New York, 1990), and Lise Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra: The Life and Times of Movement Lawyer Fay Stender (Berkeley, CA: Regent Press, 2018), and American Justice on Trial: People v. Newton (Berkeley: Regent Press, 2016). The quote is from Horowitz and Collier, “Requiem for a Radical,” 24.

[2] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 279; Horowitz and Collier, 28.

[3] Horowitz and Collier, 22.

[4] Pearlman covers Stender’s ancestry in Call Me Phaedra, 9-11.

[5] Horowitz and Collier, 25.

[6] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 11-12.

[7] Ibid., 32.

[8] Ibid., 91-2.

[9] Ibid., 37, 40.

[10] Perry, Douglas. “Why Reedie and radical lawyer Fay Stender fought for prison reform — and paid with her life,” The Oregonian, June 27, 2015. Viewed September 14, 2017: http://www.oregonlive.com/living/index.ssf/2015/06/why_reedie_and_radical_lawyer.html

[11] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 37.

[12] Ibid., 44. Betty went on to become a radical member of the Berkeley City Council.

[13] Ibid., 47, 49. Bernardine Dohrn of the Weathermen would later obtain a J.D. from this school.

[14] Horowitz and Collier, 26.

[15] Ibid., 26.

[16] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 69.

[17] Ibid., 68. Zeisel’s work “later played a key role in assuring a diverse and sympathetic jury for the Huey Newton murder trial.”

[18] Ibid., 68.

[19] Ibid., 59.

[20] Ibid., 74-7.

[21] Ibid., 80.

[22] Ibid., 81-2.

[23] Ibid., 82-8. In 1971, Hilary Rodham would clerk for the former Communist Treuhaft.

[24] Ibid., 96.

[25] Ibid., 90.

[26] Ibid., 90-91.

[27] Rabbi Yosef Ovadia, former Chief Rabbi of Israel and head of the Council of Torah Sages: “Goyim were born only to serve us. Without that, they have no place in the world . . .” See also Kevin MacDonald’s comments here.

[28] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 95.

[29] Kenneth Heineman, Put Your Bodies Upon the Wheels: Student Revolt in the 1960s (Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2001), 36.

[30] Connor was the Chief of Police in Birmingham, Alabama, who used dogs and firehoses to break up civil rights demonstrations in May 1963. The resulting publicity produced widespread disgust and led to the first Civil Rights Act in July 1964.

[31] Bruce Watson, Freedom Summer: The Savage Season of 1964 That Made Mississippi Burn and Made America a Democracy (New York: Penguin Books, 2010), 63.

[32] Jonathan Kaufman, Broken Alliance: The Turbulent Times Between Blacks and Jews in America (New York: Touchstone, 1995), 98.

[33] Heineman, Put Your Bodies Upon the Wheels, 37, 39.

[34] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 97. Bruce Watson refers to Freedom Summer volunteers as “invaders” more than a dozen times.

[35] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 97.

[36] Mary Aickin Rothschild, A Case of Black and White: Northern Volunteers and the Southern Freedom Summers, 1964-1965 (Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood Press, 1982), 138-39.

[37] Rothschild, A Case of Black and White, 138.

[38] Ibid, 139.

[39] Bruce Watson, Freedom Summer, 267.

[40] Debra Schultz, Going South: Jewish Women in the Civil Rights Movement (New York: New York University Press, 2001), 115.

[41] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 98.

[42] When protestor Joe Blum reached Santa Rita prison after dawn, he heard a voice call out, “Hey Joe! How many of you motherfuckers are coming out here?” It was his friend from Merritt College, Huey Newton, in prison for assault. From Hugh Pearson, The Shadow of the Panther (Addison Wesley, 1994), 73.

[43] Arthur Liebman, Jews and the Left (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 1979), 68.

[44] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 98.

[45] Ibid., 100.

[46] Ibid., 100-01.

[47] See Kevin MacDonald, “Jews, Blacks, and Race” here, and E. Michael Jones, The Jewish Revolutionary Spirit and Its Impact on World History, Chapter 16.

[48] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 101-02.

[49] Ibid., 102. Franck is Jewish; so was Axelrod.

[50] Heineman, 42.

[51] David Horowitz, Radical Son: A Generational Odyssey (New York: The Free Press, 1997), 227.

[52] Eric Cummins, The Rise and Fall of California’s Radical Prison Movement (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994), 97.

[53] All quotes from Cummins, 97.

[54] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 113.

[55] Hugh Pearson, The Shadow of the Panther, 104.

[56] “Cleaver . . . would do more than anyone else to facilitate Huey Newton’s Black Panther Party replacing SNCC as the national symbol of Black disenchantment.” Pearson, 104.

[57] Peter Richardson, A Bomb in Every Issue: How the Short, Unruly Life of Ramparts Magazine Changed America (New York: The New Press, 2009), 69-70.

[58] Cummins, California’s Radical Prison Movement, 100.

[59] Richardson, A Bomb in Every Issue, 121.

[60] Ibid., 122-23. Cleaver’s warden from San Quentin had a different view of his writing. He thought it was “racist as hell, talking about the White honkies and death to the White man and that sort of thing . . . I consider[ed] it garbage, the words of a diseased mind.” (from Cummins, 98.)

[61] Cummins, 103.

[62] Cummins, 103.

[63] Lise Pearlman, American Justice, 110-11.

[64] Horowitz and Collier, 29.

[65] Pearlman, American Justice, 133.

[66] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 118.

[67] Pearlman, American Justice, 110.

[68] Pearson, 292.

[69] Richardson, 92-3. Stern probably knew the “French Resistance” was largely Jewish; see “Was the French Resistance Jewish?” in the Tablet: https://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-arts-and-culture/books/201308/was-the-french-resistance-jewish

[70] See here for Scherr.

[71] Cummins, 113-14.

[72] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 119.

[73] Pearlman, American Justice, 112, 136.

[74] Ibid., 38.

[75] Ibid., 117-18.

[76] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 121.

[77] Ibid., 122.

[78] Pearlman, American Justice, 151.

[79] Ibid., 151.

[80] In his book And the Walls Came Tumbling Down, Ralph Abernathy, close associate of Martin Luther King, testifies that King spent time with two women that night, neither one his wife, and beat up a third. See http://articles.latimes.com/1989-11-12/books/bk-1880_1_ralph-david-abernathy/2

[81] After the Watts riots in August 1965, in which the Blacks of Los Angeles had destroyed much of their community, they nevertheless felt that they had “had chastised the White power structure.” Heineman, 41.

[82] Pearson, 154.

[83] Pearson, 155.

[84] Cummins, 121.

[85] Pearlman, American Justice, 161-62.

[86] Ibid., 177.

[87] Ibid., 217.

[88] Ibid., 223.

[89] Ibid., 215.

[90] Pearson, 167.

[91] Pearlman, American Justice, 210-13.

[92] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 126.

[93] Pearlman, American Justice, 284-85.

[94] Ibid., 286.

[95] Ibid., 327.

[96] Ibid., 287-88.

[97] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 130-31.

[98] Pearlman, American Justice, 298-302.

[99] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, xiv.

[100] Pearlman, American Justice, 357-58.

[101] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 143-44.

[102] Horowitz and Collier, 31.

[103] Pearlman, American Justice, 358.

[104] Both quotes from Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 150.

[105] Ibid., 336.

[106] Paul Liberatore, The Road to Hell: The True Story of George Jackson, Stephen Bingham, and the San Quentin Massacre. (New York: The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1996), 15-16.

[107] Liberatore, 16-17.

[108] Horowitz and Collier, 32.

[109] Max Nelson, “Extreme Remedies” in The Paris Review, December 7, 2015. Accessed November 19, 2017: https://www.theparisreview.org/blog/2015/12/07/extreme-remedies/

[110] Horowitz and Collier, 32.

[111] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 168.

[112] Ibid., 173.

[113] Horowitz and Collier, 36.

[114] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 205.

[115] Ibid., 157-58. The decision did not accept Fay’s argument about jury composition, but rather faulted the jury instructions of the judge.

[116] Ibid., 214-15.

[117] Ibid., 223-24.

[118] Horowitz and Collier, 37; Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 186-87.

[119] Douglas Perry, “Why Reedie and radical lawyer Fay Stender fought for prison reform – and paid with her life,” The Oregonian, June 27, 2015. Accessed September 14, 2017: http://www.oregonlive.com/living/index.ssf/2015/06/why_reedie_and_radical_lawyer.html

[120] Horowitz and Collier, 36.

[121] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 204

[122] Ibid., 204.

[123] Ibid., 242.

[124] Horowitz and Collier, 40.

[125] Liberatore, 82.

[126] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 228-29.

[127] Horowitz and Collier, 40.

[128] Horowitz and Collier, 41.

[129] Eve Pell, We Used to Own the Bronx: Memoirs of a Former Debutante. (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2009), 175. The quote is from Erlinda Castro.

[130] Ibid., 182-83, 186.

[131] Pearlman, American Justice, 394.

[132] Horowitz and Collier, 42-3.

[133] Larry Getlen. “The True Story of the Attica Prison Riot.” New York Post, August 20, 2016. Viewed October 1, 2019: https://nypost.com/2016/08/20/the-true-story-of-the-attica-prison-riot/

[134] A commission called by California Governor Reagan to investigate the Jackson affair placed much blame on Stender and the “bad press Stender had generated about Soledad Prison . . . Prison officials insisted Stender had egged on the prisoners’ rights movement by spreading false and incendiary charges of inmate mistreatment and baseless and lawsuits.” Pearlman, American Justice, 404.

[135] Horowitz and Collier, 44-45.

[136] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 281.

[137] The first quote is from Horowitz and Collier, 46; the second is from Lise Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 283.

[138] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 313-14.

[139] Ibid., 330.

[140] Horowitz and Collier, 50-52.

[141] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 342-43.

[142] The shooting is described by Pearlman in Call Me Phaedra, 355-58, and by Horowitz and Collier, 52-55.

[143] Horowitz and Collier, 56.

[144] Ibid., 56.

[145] Ibid., 57-8.

[146] Ibid., 62-3.

[147] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 430.

[148] Pearson, 287.

[149] Pearlman, Call Me Phaedra, 440.

(Republished from The Occidental Observer by permission of author or representative)
 
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