(8 of 10)
For all of his early success, Bailey has been having a hard time in recent years. In fact, the Hearst case represents something of a comeback try for him, and he needs a convincing victory in Judge Carter's courtroom almost as badly as do Patty and the Hearsts. His problems have been a result of the same zeal that brought him his triumphs. In 1968, Bailey angrily wrote the New Jersey Governor charging that a murder prosecution of a Bailey client would be based knowingly on perjured testimony, then carelessly distributed the letter so widely that it swiftly leaked to the press. Though the client was eventually acquitted, Bailey was suspended from practice in New Jersey for a year and censured by the Massachusetts Bar. He also overextended himself, writing—and vigorously promoting—two bestsellers, hosting a TV interview show, and serving as nominal publisher of Gallery, a copy-kitten rip-off of Playboy. He even made plans to play himself in a movie, The Sam Sheppard Story. Suddenly, things began to sour. The movie never got off the ground, the TV show was canceled and he left Gallery. His helicopter company was slow to lift off (it only recently began to make money), and an airport he bought near his home was on its way to losing $200,000. Most serious, he was charged with fraud in two of his outside enterprises. One case was soon dropped, but the other charge nearly dropped Bailey.
He had become an admirer of Glenn Turner, the Koscot cosmetics huckster from Florida, and became his lawyer and adviser. The Government charged Bailey also made speeches endorsing investments in Turner's franchises. When the law came down on Turner for conspiracy to defraud investors, Bailey was indicted too. The evidence against Bailey was thin, but he had to abandon virtually everything else and spend $350,000 and two years fighting the charges, which were eventually dropped after an eight-month trial in Florida ended in a hung jury in 1974. Although Associate Johnson kept the Boston office open, the Bailey firm all but withered away; new business fell by 80%, and young associates left to find other jobs.
Bailey's firm has come back since the Turner charges were dropped and is now operating in the black. His colleagues insist that he has mellowed somewhat since the Florida battle—and his subsequent marriage to his third wife Lynda, 28. He and British-born Lynda, a stewardess supervisor, met at a restaurant in Detroit, where Bailey was trying a case. When he first saw her she was sitting at a table with one of his associates reading a paperback novel. Bailey walked up to the table and grumped, "Forget that trash and read something worthwhile." He threw down a copy of The Defense Never Rests. As Lynda tells it: "I had never before heard of Lee Bailey. I called him a proper cocky bastard. He fired back a comment and we got into a little battle."
But she stayed for dinner and the next day went to watch Bailey perform in court. Three days later Bailey proposed. Lynda, then engaged to marry someone else (the invitations were already out) promptly accepted.