A Brown Paper Bag
By Jerry Sokolosky

It was 1962. I was a brand new lawyer. My law degree and certificate of Supreme Court admission were still at the picture framer.

Clay Baum, 64, was arrested and charged in federal court with walking into the then City National Bank and Trust of Oklahoma City. It was alleged that he handed the teller a brown paper bag containing a half-empty bottle of Pepto Bismol and a note. The note said “Bomb – Give me your monie.” (sic) It so frightened the teller that she pushed the note and paper bag back to Mr. Baum, which he retrieved and left the bank. The FBI found the bag and note in a trash can outside the bank. Mr. Baum signed a confession. I was appointed by Judge Luther Bohanan to represent him.

After arraignment I casually inquired of Judge Bohanan about federal procedure. I tried to frame my question so as to indicate that I was intimately familiar with state procedure. Judge Bohanan, always a kind and caring person, knew better and said, “Son, if it were me, I think the first thing I’d do is go down to the county jail and talk to my client.” I really hadn’t thought about that because I was so concerned about what paper work I should file.

The jailer asked for my bar card. It had not come in the mail but he called Mr. Baum down for the visit. Boldly, I asked, “Mr. Baum did you attempt to rob that bank?” “No sir,” he said. “Well, why did you sign the confession?” “Because they said they would give me some dope,” he responded. Aha! The lights went on and the bells rang. It was a bar exam question. Coerced confession – Motion to Suppress, which I quickly filed.

At the hearing I tried to overcome my nervousness with bravado. “Now, Mr. Baum, did you attempt to rob that bank?” I asked. “No sir.” “Why did you sign a confession?” “Because they said they would give me some dope.” For some reason I thought I must continue. “Mr. Baum, have you ever seen that bank?” “No, sir.” “Do you even know where that bank is located?” “No, sir.” I sat down smugly, anticipating the immediate release of my client and a stellar career in criminal law.

The assistant U.S. attorney was Jack Parr, who later served many years as an Oklahoma County district judge. He rose and quietly asked, “Now Mr. Baum, about how far from the bank were you when you were arrested?” “Oh, about six blocks,” he proudly responded. I quickly and quietly left the courtroom before Judge Bohanan could envision the concepts of “frivolous motion” and “direct contempt.”

After conviction, Mr. Baum asked a favor. “Can you get me transported back to the federal prison in Springfield in time for Thanksgiving?” Jack Parr and Judge Bohanan cooperated, and Mr. Baum had Thanksgiving dinner in Springfield. I later learned that he had spent his entire adult life in one prison or another and was either unwilling or incapable of making it on the outside.

About 15 years later I was taking a statement from an inmate in the federal prison in Seagoville, Texas. Afterwards, the deputy warden approached me saying that Mr. Baum had been transferred there, had attained senior trustee status, found out that I was there and asked to see me. He said we could use his office.

Clay was showing his age but looked chipper and was smiling broadly in his white trustee’s uniform. He thanked me again for what I had done for him, and as we were leaving, he gave me what I considered to be his only worldly possessions. Three broken cookies in a brown paper bag.

Mr. Sokolosky practices in Oklahoma City.