Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Copyright © Las Vegas Review-Journal

Ex-federal judge Claiborne kills self

Colleagues remember masterful litigator undeterred by indictment and impeachment

Longtime Nevada attorney Harry Claiborne, pictured in 1996, committed suicide Monday night at his Las Vegas home. REVIEW-JOURNAL FILE PHOTO Attorney Oscar Goodman and Harry Claiborne leave a Nevada Supreme Court hearing in 1987. Claiborne, who had already served 17 months in prison on a tax evasion conviction, was fighting for his right to once again practice law in Nevada. The court eventually ruled in Claiborne's favor. REVIEW-JOURNAL FILE PHOTO

Former U.S. District Judge Harry Claiborne, one of Nevada's best attorneys who became the first judge in the nation's history to be convicted of criminal charges while sitting on the federal bench, committed suicide at his Las Vegas home late Monday.

The 86-year-old, who had twice beaten cancer and was battling Alzheimer's disease and other health problems, shot himself in the head in his Summerlin home shortly after informing his wife that he was in pain and was determined never to return to a hospital bed.

Stunned friends and relatives said they believed the longtime Las Vegan had taken matters into his own hands to spare his family the pain of witnessing the decline of his health.

"The cancer had just eaten away at him," said the Rev. Dan Newburn, pastor of Claiborne's church and a friend of 35 years. "I think he just didn't want to put his family through seeing him waste away."

Las Vegas attorney James J. Brown, who worked with Claiborne from 1965 until 1978, put it more bluntly.

"I'm aware that he died as he lived: his way," Brown said.

Claiborne, who in 1986 became the first federal official impeached by Congress in a half-century, was remembered Tuesday by veterans of Southern Nevada's legal community as a feisty and colorful attorney. They said he possessed masterful storytelling abilities that captivated jurors.

"He could tell a story better than anyone I've known," said Senior U.S. District Judge Lloyd George. "I still consider him a good friend, and I'll miss him."

Many attorneys said his skills in a courtroom were unparalleled in the state's history, with some saying even that was an understatement.

"Harry Claiborne was without a doubt the greatest criminal defense lawyer in the southwest United States," former Clark County District Attorney George Dickerson said.

"We always used to call him the Arkansas preacher. He just had that knack of captivating a jury," Dickerson said of Claiborne, who grew up in McRae, Ark.

But in 1983, just five years after President Jimmy Carter appointed him to a federal judgeship, Claiborne went from revered to infamous. A grand jury in Reno indicted him on bribery, fraud and tax evasion charges.

At trial the next year, brothel owner Joe Conforte testified he had given Claiborne $85,000 in return for favors, but the jury deadlocked. Prosecutors declined to pursue bribery charges in a second trial, which ended with a conviction on tax evasion counts.

He eventually served more than a year in prison.

Though some believed Claiborne was a member of Southern Nevada's good ol' boy network who had been caught breaking the law, many believed there was truth to Claiborne's allegations that he was wrongfully accused by a vengeful Justice Department.

"He was very, very fair to criminal defendants to his detriment," District Judge Michael Cherry said Tuesday. "I think that is why the government was so interested in prosecuting him and knocking him off the bench. He was very, very fair in court."

It wasn't only his approach to defendants in criminal cases that lost him favor with prosecutors. The judge drew national attention when he called federal prosecutors on the Las Vegas Strike Force "a bunch of crooks" after he found out they were investigating him for allegedly ordering an illegal wiretap while he was still a private attorney.

After his prison release, Claiborne successfully petitioned to be readmitted to the Nevada bar and immediately put his time behind bars behind him.

"You wouldn't have thought it affected him a bit," District Judge Stewart Bell, a former Clark County district attorney, said Tuesday.

"I mean, the times I saw Harry over the last 15 years, he was always such an upbeat guy, always smiling, always a hard worker, always a funny story, always proud of being a lawyer. He would have worked every day of his life until he became too physically ill to do it."

While grieving Tuesday morning, Claiborne's widow said in an interview that her husband had done nothing recently to signal he planned to end his life.

"He had good days and bad, but he seemed to be in good spirits," said Norma Claiborne, the former judge's fourth wife.

In fact, Claiborne twice before had fought hard to surmount serious illnesses.

He survived prostate cancer a few years ago, and bone cancer more recently. Norma Claiborne said her husband was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease a few years ago, and the disorientation and memory loss associated with the ailment had been progressing recently.

Claiborne had suffered a painful bladder infection recently, and only a few months ago, doctors had come across a suspicious spot on his liver that provoked more cancer fears, his wife said. Still, Claiborne put in time at the office.

Claiborne's desk chair sat empty Tuesday at the Wright, Judd & Winckler law firm in downtown Las Vegas, where he had worked once or twice a week in recent months. Attorney Richard Wright said Claiborne continued to do work for friends and old clients up until his death.

The night before, Claiborne and his wife watched television in their home near Summerlin Parkway and Anasazi Drive.

"He had been in there in that bedroom with me watching `American Idol,' and we were laughing at all the people who couldn't sing," Norma said.

After complaining that his back hurt, Claiborne left the room, saying he was headed to the den to sit in a more comfortable chair.

"He was in a lot of pain, and I suggested taking him to the hospital, but he didn't want to go," she said. "He just told me he wasn't going back to the hospital. He kept saying that over and over."

Instead of going to the den, Claiborne went to his home office.

Shortly afterward, Norma and Claiborne's 22-year-old grandson, Aaron, who lives with the couple, heard a shot.

"He wasn't in there five minutes before we heard a bang," she recalled, sobbing. "I thought he had fallen. A gun was the farthest thing from my mind. I just went running and Aaron kept yelling, `Don't go in there, Grandma. Don't go in there, Grandma.' "

Norma called Las Vegas police about 9:55 p.m. to report the suicide. Clark County Coroner Mike Murphy said Claiborne appeared to have died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the right side of his head.

Although Claiborne had given no outward indications he was suicidal, police and family learned Claiborne had methodically planned his death.

"He did his income taxes early, and he never did them early," Norma said.

Besides a suicide note, Claiborne left directions for his funeral, including instructions on where his body should be sent, who should deliver his eulogy and who should be his eight pallbearers.

"That was Harry down to the end, in charge," said Newburn, whom Claiborne requested to preside over his memorial service.

Shown to a Review-Journal reporter Tuesday morning, the brief instructions were written in a graceful script on Claiborne's personal letterhead stationary. The note was signed "Harry."

In addition to four family members, Claiborne named four close friends as his pallbearers: Wright, Jack Binion and attorneys George Foley Sr. and Charles Kelly.

"I think he's the greatest criminal defense lawyer I ever saw, head and shoulders above anybody else," Foley said Tuesday, more than 50 years after he first met Claiborne.

Wright agreed.

"Probably the best lawyer Nevada's ever had," said Wright, who had shared office space with Claiborne since the former judge's release from prison.

Even the judge who replaced Claiborne after his impeachment shared their view.

"It's a great loss to the state," said U.S. District Judge Philip Pro. "He was really a very interesting individual and a wonderful trial lawyer, without question."

Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman met Claiborne shortly after moving here in 1964 and the two quickly became friends. After his 1983 indictment, Claiborne tapped Goodman, then a top criminal defense attorney, to represent him.

The mayor said Tuesday that Claiborne had an ability to "assemble the facts" better than any lawyer he knows.

"If there was a lawyer who was a lawyer's lawyer, it was Harry Claiborne," Goodman said. "If I ever had a mentor in my life, and I've had several, Harry Claiborne was the man I learned the most from." When Claiborne in October 1986 became the first federal official to face such an impeachment in 50 years, he again hired Goodman as counsel.

But Claiborne was eventually convicted on a 87-10 vote in the Senate on three counts that related to his lying on his income tax returns.

Claiborne, who continued drawing his $87,000 judge's salary until his impeachment, served only 17 months in federal prison.

In a highly controversial decision, the justices on Nevada's top court paved the way for him to return to work as a lawyer in 1988, admitting in a memorable 163-page decision that it was second-guessing the impeachment.

The U.S. Congress and Nevada's highest court were not the only ones with highly contrasting views of Claiborne.

The government's prosecution of the judge sharply divided Nevadans, especially members of the then tight-knit legal community.

Las Vegas Sun publisher Hank Greenspun fiercely defended Claiborne in the pages of his newspaper, while the Review-Journal wrote editorials criticizing the Nevada Supreme Court justices for their decision.

Although his star had dimmed after imprisonment, the attorney still attracted high-profile clients when he returned to work as a lawyer. Perhaps most notably, he represented the interests of Ted Binion's daughter in the dispute over Binion's estate after his death in a high-profile 1998 murder case.

When his health did not allow him to work, Claiborne began his morning each day by waking, grabbing the newspaper and turning to the same section and often learning of bad news.

"Every day he would read the obituaries, and would see another of his friends had died," Norma Claiborne said.

Claiborne's family said he also was upset about the closure earlier this month of Binion's Horseshoe, the downtown hotel-casino where the couple met in the late 1970s.

Claiborne frequented the property for decades, both when it was operated by his longtime friend Lester "Benny" Binion and then by Binion's oldest son, Jack.

"He used to have lunch there every day with Mr. Binion, and then when Jack took over, he'd have lunch every day with him," Norma said. "He had such good memories of the Horseshoe. When it closed, he said it was the closing of an era."

Wright said Claiborne counted both cabdrivers and casino owners among his friends. "There weren't better people than others," Wright said.

On Tuesday, Wright sat at his own desk perusing a file he has compiled of Claiborne memories, stories Claiborne has shared with him over the years.

In 1993, Wright's notes reflect, Claiborne recounted a story about how he gained acceptance to law school.

The young Claiborne, who previously had attended a Bible college, was hitchhiking through Mississippi after several law schools had rejected him.

Claiborne eventually accepted a ride from a drunken snuff salesman who offered to take him to Memphis. During the trip, the pair stopped at every church and placed hand-held fans advertising Red Rooster snuff in the seat of every pew.

Eventually, the snuff salesman became too drunk to drive and let Claiborne take over the wheel.

Later, after Claiborne had told the salesman about his difficulty in getting admitted to law school, the man wrote a letter and placed it in a sealed envelope, then gave Claiborne instructions to deliver it to a judge in Nashville.

Claiborne reluctantly did so. After reading the letter, the judge handed Claiborne a note and told him to take it to Cumberland University in Lebanon, Tenn. Three weeks later, Claiborne started law school there.

"To this day, whenever a case looks bleak, I recall that story and that I wouldn't even be a lawyer if I hadn't been hitchhiking and picked up by a drunken snuff salesman," Claiborne told Wright.

Claiborne also shared stories with Wright about the months he spent at federal prison camp. Claiborne ran the prison greenhouse and impressed the warden with his ability to grow pointsettias.

At one point, the warden asked Claiborne if he wanted to go home for Christmas, and Claiborne told the warden he wasn't eligible for a furlough.

The warden told Claiborne he must not have been a very smart judge and added, "Did you think I said, `Are you eligible for a furlough?' I said, `Do you want to go home for Christmas?' "

That's how Claiborne received a five-day furlough at Christmastime, Wright said.

Wright and others said Claiborne expressed no bitterness about his criminal conviction and impeachment.

"He viewed himself blessed and fortunate with all that he had experienced," Wright said.

Claiborne's funeral is scheduled for Friday at 3 p.m. at Palm Mortuary, 7600 S. Eastern Ave., near Warm Springs Road. Visitation is scheduled for 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. Friday. In lieu of flowers, Claiborne's family has requested that donations be made to Summerlin Community Baptist Church.

Besides his wife, Claiborne is survived by his daughters Carol Johnson of McRae, Ark., Janice Kollander of Garden Grove, Calif., and Nancy Vandenburgh of Palatine Bridge, N.Y., and five grandchildren.

Review-Journal writers Michael Squires and Glenn Puit contributed to this report.