Adam Clayton Powell, who has never shown undue deference for the laws of the land, came on last week as a last ditch champion of the Constitution. Fighting for his political life before the House committee investigating his right to a seat in Congress, the Harlem Democrat argued that any inquiry into his defiance of New York State courts, his padded payroll and his expense-paid junkets would violate his rights as a Representative-elect. "You want me," he asked, "to break the Constitution?"
The special committee, named last month after the House voted to delay Powell's swearing-in, wanted no such thing. It sought only to scrutinize the litigation in which Powell has been embroiled for seven years and the evidence of finagling with congressional funds developed by an earlier House investigation. Nor was the committee hostile. Five of the nine members had voted to seat Powell in the first place. The chairman, Brooklyn Democrat Emanuel Celler, had denounced the inquiry before being named to head it. If there were any way to save Powell's seat, the committee was expected to find it.
Mock Courtesy. Powell gave it little chance. He and his eight lawyers argued that the Constitution sets only three qualifications for House membership—age, citizenship and residence—and that he would answer no questions about anything else. Celler pointed out that the Constitution also empowers the House and Senate to "punish its members for disorderly behavior" and, by a two-thirds vote, to expel a member. Powell's lawyers cited historical cases of unjust treatment of members-elect,* implying that Powell was being persecuted for belonging to a minority.
Powell handled many of his lines with mock courtesy, drawling out "Yes, sir," when he chose to answer at all, slurring his words to mask his Ivy League diction, grinning impishly as counsel proved beyond reasonable doubt that Powell is over 25 (he is 58). But he managed to becloud even the question of New York State residence. When had he last spent a night in New York? "I don't recall." When did he intend to return? He declined to say.
Omnium-Gatherum. Unlike most Congressmen, Powell needs no fence-mending visits to the voters. His public habitat is the television screen and the front page, where he continues to play Mr. Terrific against the white man. At one point during the session Celler pleaded for his cooperation: "I urge you, as chairman and personally, to reconsider your refusal." Powell let his lawyers reply. Finally Celler yielded. "It is useless to continue."
In the corridor outside the hearing chamber, surrounded by the inevitable omnium-gatherum of sympathizers, Powell found his tongue. "Where is justice?" he demanded. "It is not the fate of Adam Clayton Powell that is at stake. It's the fate of the people of Harlem." His supporters cheered.