of civil rights—that the federal government relied upon in the 1960s to bring suspects to trial in racial murders.
It would be an interesting experience for young Scruggs. He joined Langston and two members of another firm famed for criminal defense work, Steve Farese and his cousin Tony Farese, in preparing for a trial. The case was moved by the government to the U.S. District Court in Greenville, in the Delta, where a predominantly black jury would be expected to frown upon a pair of white deputy sheriffs from Mississippi’s hill country accused of stomping someone to death.
As they worked over the list of prospective jurors, the defense team hired a knowledgeable woman from the Delta to aid them in learning about each individual. Facetiously, Langston dubbed her “MadameCleo,” a mystical soothsayer who would ensure that the defense found the proper jurors.Though the tactic of vetting jurors is standard practice for any trial preparation, Langston’s reliance on the wisdom of Madame Cleo happened to converge with the prosecutors’ concerns about the composition of juries in cases involving Langston. Their suspicions intensified after the two deputies were acquitted.
During the week-long trial, Zach fraternized with his older colleagues, sat in on all strategy sessions, and handled the cross-examinations of several witnesses.
Langston had the front page of the Tupelo newspaper bearing a banner headline— NOT GUILTY —framed and gave it to young Scruggs. He added his own inscription, “Zach, Great Job! Your friend, Joey.” The memento hung on the wall of Zach’s office for the next six years.
Oxford was running over with lawyers. Some settled there after law school. Others were attracted by the college town’s cultural advantages and shifted their practices in mid-career. Still others, on the cusp of retirement, opened offices after choosing to spend their latter years among the memories of their student days.
The glut of attorneys fostered a carnivorous atmosphere. Jealousies and hatreds developed within the legal profession, and it was not too far-fetched to compare the environment to that of a lobster trap where creatures crowded into a small space begin to tear limbs from the bodies of others.
With so many attorneys, there also existed a shortage of space. One prominent lawyer, Grady Tollison, owned a large corner office with balconies overlooking the courthouse, while others were reduced to offices in back alleys or to working from their homes.
Scruggs wanted the best spot available, so he paid $695,000 for a second-floor location in an older building on the square. A popular café, Ajax, occupied the street level and lent the address some panache. The place had a funky atmosphere and a down-home menu featuring plate lunches of meat loaf and pork chops. A bar in the front was braced by the dining area, where the acoustic tile ceiling had been pierced by hundreds of toothpicks blown there through drinking straws by patrons. Ajax had been Eli Manning’s favorite café when he played quarterback at Ole Miss.The visiting novelist and poet Jim Harrison spoke of its virtues in
The Raw and the Cooked
, a book about his eating experiences. “I was saved by the Ajax Diner on the Square,” he wrote, “a southern-soul-food restaurant that is always crowded, whereI was soothed by five vegetable dishes: potato salad, black-eyed peas, butter beans with beef gravy, turnip greens with smoked pork, and, grudgingly, broccoli.”
Before Scruggs took possession upstairs, the space held a warren of apartments for students. To turn it into something more worthy, he invested hundreds of thousands more in renovation. When that work spun toward the million-dollar mark, he again called upon Rex Deloach for help, this time to supervise the renovation.
Scruggs wanted nice art, so Deloach put him in touch with a gallery in Memphis. He bought a few still lifes in the range of $25,000 each and was loaned others.
It would be an interesting experience for young Scruggs. He joined Langston and two members of another firm famed for criminal defense work, Steve Farese and his cousin Tony Farese, in preparing for a trial. The case was moved by the government to the U.S. District Court in Greenville, in the Delta, where a predominantly black jury would be expected to frown upon a pair of white deputy sheriffs from Mississippi’s hill country accused of stomping someone to death.
As they worked over the list of prospective jurors, the defense team hired a knowledgeable woman from the Delta to aid them in learning about each individual. Facetiously, Langston dubbed her “MadameCleo,” a mystical soothsayer who would ensure that the defense found the proper jurors.Though the tactic of vetting jurors is standard practice for any trial preparation, Langston’s reliance on the wisdom of Madame Cleo happened to converge with the prosecutors’ concerns about the composition of juries in cases involving Langston. Their suspicions intensified after the two deputies were acquitted.
During the week-long trial, Zach fraternized with his older colleagues, sat in on all strategy sessions, and handled the cross-examinations of several witnesses.
Langston had the front page of the Tupelo newspaper bearing a banner headline— NOT GUILTY —framed and gave it to young Scruggs. He added his own inscription, “Zach, Great Job! Your friend, Joey.” The memento hung on the wall of Zach’s office for the next six years.
Oxford was running over with lawyers. Some settled there after law school. Others were attracted by the college town’s cultural advantages and shifted their practices in mid-career. Still others, on the cusp of retirement, opened offices after choosing to spend their latter years among the memories of their student days.
The glut of attorneys fostered a carnivorous atmosphere. Jealousies and hatreds developed within the legal profession, and it was not too far-fetched to compare the environment to that of a lobster trap where creatures crowded into a small space begin to tear limbs from the bodies of others.
With so many attorneys, there also existed a shortage of space. One prominent lawyer, Grady Tollison, owned a large corner office with balconies overlooking the courthouse, while others were reduced to offices in back alleys or to working from their homes.
Scruggs wanted the best spot available, so he paid $695,000 for a second-floor location in an older building on the square. A popular café, Ajax, occupied the street level and lent the address some panache. The place had a funky atmosphere and a down-home menu featuring plate lunches of meat loaf and pork chops. A bar in the front was braced by the dining area, where the acoustic tile ceiling had been pierced by hundreds of toothpicks blown there through drinking straws by patrons. Ajax had been Eli Manning’s favorite café when he played quarterback at Ole Miss.The visiting novelist and poet Jim Harrison spoke of its virtues in
The Raw and the Cooked
, a book about his eating experiences. “I was saved by the Ajax Diner on the Square,” he wrote, “a southern-soul-food restaurant that is always crowded, whereI was soothed by five vegetable dishes: potato salad, black-eyed peas, butter beans with beef gravy, turnip greens with smoked pork, and, grudgingly, broccoli.”
Before Scruggs took possession upstairs, the space held a warren of apartments for students. To turn it into something more worthy, he invested hundreds of thousands more in renovation. When that work spun toward the million-dollar mark, he again called upon Rex Deloach for help, this time to supervise the renovation.
Scruggs wanted nice art, so Deloach put him in touch with a gallery in Memphis. He bought a few still lifes in the range of $25,000 each and was loaned others.
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