CRIME: Lambs on the Altar

Only dishonest people have anything to fear from racketeers. This was long a maxim of New York City’s Police Commissioner Lewis J. Valentine.

Last week, in a New York Federal court, Movieman Nicholas M. Schenck’s whole attitude testified that the Commissioner did not know what he was talking about. Mr. Schenck, it appeared, had been an innocent, bleeding lamb in the hands of a pair of high priests of racketeering.

Mr. Schenck was first witness in the Government’s case against George E. Browne, an A.F. of L. vice president* and head of the stagehands’ union, and Willie Bioff, the union’s West Coast representative. Browne and Bioff are charged with extorting $550,000 from four major movie companies, including Loew’s Inc., of which Mr. Schenck is president.

Schenck’s sad story:

His troubles began in 1935, when projectionists in Browne’s union threatened to strike 60-odd theaters in New York City. Just to keep the peace, Schenck coughed up $100,000 to union bosses. Next, a brief but costly strike in Chicago showed Schenck what he might be in for there. About a year later, Browne introduced him to smiling Willie Bioff (who had once been in the prostitution business in Chicago).

As Schenck recalled the meeting, Bioff said: “Now look, I’ll tell you why I’m here. I want you to know that I’m the boss—I elected Mr. Browne—and I want from the movie industry $2,000,000.” When the astounded Schenck began to protest, Bioff warned him: “Stop this nonsense. It will cost you a lot more if you don’t do it.” The conversation, said Mr. Schenck, was “outstanding . . . terrible.”

Two days later another meeting took place. According to Schenck, Bioff took him aside and confided: “Maybe $2,000,000 is a little too much. … I decided I’ll take a million.” In the end, Schenck agreed that Bioff should get $50,000 a year from him and each movie company, $25,000 from each small one.

Mr. Schenck told how he took a little bundle containing $50,000 in large bills to the Waldorf-Astoria, dropped it on a bed and looked out a window. Sidney R. Kent, president of Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corp., came in and dropped a little bundle too. Bioff and Browne, said Schenck, picked the bundles up, counted the money. A year later, Schenck said, Bioff called again. Lamblike Mr. Schenck got another bundle, handed it over to Bioff and Browne without a bleat.

* As the A.F. of L. convention droned on last week in Seattle, the embarrassed executive council got ready to rid itself of Browne by reducing the number of vice presidencies. This does not mean that Browne would cease to be head of his own autonomous union.