Monday, December 29, 2014

A00273 - Richard C. Hottelet, CBS Newsman and Last of "Murrow Boys"


In the CBS wartime office in London, from left: Richard C. Hottelet, Charles Shaw, Larry LeSueur, Edward R. Murrow, and seated, Janet Murrow. CreditCBS
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Richard C. Hottelet, who covered the D-Day invasion of Normandy and the Battle of the Bulge for CBS and became the last survivor of the “Murrow Boys,” the network’s pioneeringWorld War II radio newsmen who worked under Edward R. Murrow, died on Wednesday at his home in Wilton, Conn. He was 97.
His granddaughter, Maria Hottelet Foley, confirmed the death.
Mr. Hottelet, the youngest member of the Murrow Boys when he was hired and the last of them still with CBS when he retired in 1985, was a dogged reporter who so angered Nazi leaders while working for United Press in the war’s early stages that he was imprisoned by the Gestapo for four months.
Mr. Murrow, the chief of CBS’s news operation in Europe, who won fame for his broadcasts from London rooftops during the 1940 German air attacks known as the blitz, hired Mr. Hottelet in January 1944.
“Only 26 at the time Murrow hired him, the tall, thin Hottelet was, despite a disarming smile and an elegant voice, an aggressive and sometimes abrasive reporter who refused to be intimidated by any official, Nazi or Allied,” Stanley Cloud and Lynne Olson wrote in the book “The Murrow Boys” (1996).


Richard C. Hottelet in 2006.CreditPeter Willows/Associated Press

As a CBS correspondent, Mr. Hottelet covered the major campaigns of the war in Europe, including the huge Allied airborne offensive across the Rhine known as Operation Varsity, during which he was forced to parachute from a flaming bomber.
After the war he reported from Moscow, West Germany and the United Nations as one of a cadre of Murrow’s wartime colleagues — among them Charles Collingwood, Eric Sevareid, Larry LeSueur and Howard K. Smith — who went on to prominent careers in television news.
“It wasn’t that we were supermen,” Mr. Hottelet told The Hartford Courant in 2003, referring to the 11 Murrow Boys, one of whom was a woman, Mary Marvin Breckinridge.
“It was not our job to inspire people, to educate, to move them,” he said. “It was our job to tell them what was going on. We were accredited war correspondents. That was it. We were serious people at a serious job. We were out in the field, flying, on the front lines getting shot at — along with a 100,000 other people.”
Richard Curt Hottelet was born in Brooklyn on Sept. 22, 1917, a son of German immigrants who spoke no English at home. His father had an import-export business that failed during the Depression. He graduated from Brooklyn College in 1937, then enrolled, at his father’s suggestion, at the University of Berlin, still unsure of his career plans.
At his first class, on the philosophy of Kant, his professor appeared in a brownshirt uniform with a Nazi armband and began the session with a Nazi salute and a “Heil, Hitler!” Mr. Hottelet, who had been living with a cousin of his father’s, a businessman who had risked his life to aid Jewish friends, was so repelled that he dropped out of school.
He was hired by United Press in Berlin in May 1938, and two years later covered the German invasion of Belgium and France, watching the British flee to the beaches of Dunkirk.
Mr. Hottelet angered the Nazis when he went out after raids on Berlin by British night bombers to check the damage. And he was briefly taken into custody after closely questioning Gestapo agents whom he saw loading Jews into a truck.
On the morning of March 15, 1941, the Gestapo arrested Mr. Hottelet at his Berlin home on “suspicion of espionage.” He was accused of sending German military information to his girlfriend, Ann Delafield, an Englishwoman who had worked in the British Embassy in Berlin and was then in a British diplomatic office in Spain.
Mr. Hottelet was held in the Alexanderplatz and Moabit jails in Berlin for the next four months. He and Jay Allen, an American journalist for the North American Newspaper Alliance, who had been imprisoned by the pro-Nazi Vichy government in France, were released on July 8, 1941, in exchange for three Germans held in the United States for illegal actions.
After working in the United Press bureau in Washington and marrying Miss Delafield in January 1942 (they would have two children), Mr. Hottelet joined the United States Office of War Information. He went to London for the O.W.I. in August 1942 to broadcast news to Germany, then moved to CBS two years later.
During the war Mr. Hottelet flew over Utah Beach at 4,500 feet in a B-26 Marauder bomber as the first waves of troops were coming ashore in the D-Day invasion of June 6, 1944. He made it back to London that day and was the first CBS correspondent to broadcast an eyewitness report of the invasion:
“This is Richard C. Hottelet reporting from London. The Allied forces landed in France early this morning. I watched the first landing barges hit the beach exactly on the minute of H-Hour.”
In October of that year he described the street fighting at Aachen, Germany, leaning from a window and speaking into his wire recorder as shells whistled and machine guns blasted away. “Right down below us, the houses are still in German territory,” he told CBS listeners, “and if anybody is leaning out a bay window and draws a bead on this recorder, you will probably never hear it.”
In December 1944 he told of the heavy German attack in Belgium known as the Battle of the Bulge. “It’s icy cold on the front tonight,” he reported, describing men having to “chop at the ground with their axes and shovels.”
Mr. Hottelet bailed out of a burning B-17 bomber hit by antiaircraft fire while covering Operation Varsity in March 1945 and landed in a cow pasture in France, incurring only minor injuries. British troops in the area treated him to liquor and tea.
He also witnessed the momentous linkup of American and Russian troops on April 25, 1945, at the Elbe River.
“There were no brass bands, no sign of the titanic strength of both armies,” Mr. Hottelet reported. “The Americans who met the Red Army were a couple of dust-covered lieutenants and a handful of enlisted men in their jeeps on reconnaissance. That’s just the way it was, as simple and untheatrical as that. Just some men meeting, shaking hands.”
After reporting from the Soviet Union and Bonn, West Germany, during the Cold War and anchoring CBS television’s daily early-morning national news program in the 1950s, Mr. Hottelet covered the United Nations for CBS from 1960 until his retirement 25 years later.
Mr. Hottelet was later the spokesman for the United States Mission to the United Nations and the host of the weekly NPR interview program “America and the World.” He was also a foreign affairs analyst for The Christian Science Monitor, a visiting scholar at George Washington University and a contributor to a wide-ranging series of audiobooks with historical themes.
Mr. Hottelet’s wife, Ann, died last year. Their son, Richard Peter Hottelet, died in 2008, and their daughter, Antonia Guzman, died in 1999. Besides Ms. Hottelet Foley, Mr. Hottelet is survived by three other grandchildren, Henry, Caleb and Richard Peter Jr. (who is known as Pete) and two great-grandchildren.
In February 2006, the British reprised the era of the Murrow Boys when the state-run organization English Heritage honored Edward R. Murrow, who died in 1965, by placing a blue plaque on the building at 84 Hallam Street where he lived when he made his memorable broadcasts beginning, “This ... is London.”
Mr. Hottelet unveiled the plaque.
He said that Mr. Murrow was “never one to angle for applause or recognition.”
But he added, “About this, I think he’d smile.”

Friday, December 12, 2014

A00272 - Gilbert Marks, Historian of Jewish Food and Culture

Gil Marks in a family photograph on May 30, 2014, his 62nd birthday. CreditElli Schorr
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Gil Marks, a culinary historian who wrote widely on the relationship between Jewish food and Jewish culture in a manner that was both scholarly and friendly, died on Friday in Jerusalem. He was 62.
The cause was lung cancer, his niece Efrat Altshul Schorr said, adding that Mr. Marks was not a smoker.
Mr. Marks studied for the rabbinate at Yeshiva University in New York, but he burrowed into the history and culture of the Jews more through the recipe book than the Talmud. Still, some would argue that his work was, in its way, Talmudic — full of information and interpretive wisdom on the foods of Jewish tradition and the governing principles of cooking and eating them.
He was the author of five books, an oeuvre that not only provided a recipe-by-recipe chronicle of kosher menus through the centuries but also examined the role of food in the establishment and growth of cultural traditions.
A writer of eloquent informality with a wide frame of reference, Mr. Marks was as apt to cite the song parodist Allan Sherman or the acerbic monologuist Lenny Bruce, as he was the Torah scholar Maimonides or the Yiddish author Sholom Aleichem. He spent a working lifetime not simply in the kitchen testing unusual seasonings and combinations of ingredients, but also in libraries poring over texts for the arcane details of food preparation.
“If you needed to know when they started eating carrots in Spain, he could tell you,” William Altshul, who is married to Mr. Marks’s sister Sharon, said in an interview on Tuesday.
Mr. Marks’s books included “The World of Jewish Cooking,” a vastly varied introduction to foods from around the globe; and “Olive Trees and Honey: A Treasury of Vegetarian Recipes From Jewish Communities Around the World,” which won a James Beard Award in 2005. He is probably best known, however, for his 2010 compendium, “Encyclopedia of Jewish Food,” an A-to-Z guide, nearly 700 pages long, through 2,500 years of comestibles both familiar and obscure.
“A filled pastry, either baked or fried,” Mr. Marks writes, by way of definition, in introducing the entry on the knish. Then, after citing an especially appetite-stimulating passage from a Sholom Aleichem short story, he traces the path of the pastry through the centuries, from Eastern Europe to the street carts of New York and Yonah Schimmel, the celebrated knishery on the Lower East Side of Manhattan.
“The knish is a classic example of peasant food evolving into comfort food and even sophisticated fare,” Mr. Marks’s history begins. “The origins of the knish lay in a medieval Slavic fried patty, called knysz in Poland, a peasant dish made from a cooked vegetable, most notably mashed turnips, or kasha; leftovers were typically used. These small cakes commonly accompanied a soup, and frequently the two dishes were the entire meal.
“Slavic cooks began stuffing the patties with little sautéed mushrooms, onions or chopped meat, and eventually began adding bread crumbs or flour to the outer portion.”
He added, “Eastern European Jews adapted the knysz to the dictates of kosherlaws and to their tastes, transforming it into the knish, a small, round, fried, filled pastry; this was a tasty way to enhance and stretch staples, most notably kasha, cabbage and curd cheese.”
Gilbert Stanley Marks was born in Charleston, W.Va., on May 30, 1952, a son of Harold Marks, who operated a linen supply business, and the former Beverly Rosenthal, a painter on Judaic themes. The family moved to Richmond, Va., when Gil was a teenager. He graduated from the Talmudical Academy of Baltimore, and then moved to New York to attend Yeshiva University, where he earned a bachelor’s degree, master’s degrees in social work and history, and his rabbinical ordination.
For a time, he was a guidance counselor and history teacher at Yeshiva University High School for Boys in New York, and he also worked in Philadelphia as a social worker before returning to New York for most of his adult life. He had recently moved to Alon Shvut, near Jerusalem in the West Bank.
At his death, he was at work on a book defined more by national than by religious tradition: “American Cakes,” some of which has appeared on the website The History Kitchen.
Mr. Marks’s interest in cooking began in boyhood when, according to family lore, he would complain about his mother’s cooking, to which she responded, “If you don’t like it, make something yourself.”
A self-taught cook, he became an excellent one, entertaining frequently in his small apartment on the Upper West Side of Manhattan but otherwise, according to Mr. Altshul, living an ascetic life in an austere home.
“He didn’t buy things for himself,” he said. “He bought kitchen utensils.”
Besides his sister Sharon, Mr. Marks’s survivors include his mother; a second sister, Carol Vegh; two brothers, Jeffrey and Arthur; and, in addition to Ms. Schorr, 30 other nieces and nephews and 25 grandnieces and grandnephews, the first, last and middle names of whom — all 56 of them — Mr. Marks could recite, Ms. Schorr said.

Thursday, December 11, 2014

A00271 - Dollree Mapp, Plaintiff in Mapp v. Ohio


Police photos of Dollree Mapp in 1957. She resisted a search of her Cleveland home when officers could not produce a warrant. CreditAssociated Press

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On May 23, 1957, three police officers arrived at a house in Cleveland and demanded to enter. They wanted to question a man about a recent bombing and believed he was hiding inside. A woman who lived there, Dollree Mapp, refused to admit them.
It was a small gesture of defiance that led to a landmark United States Supreme Court ruling on the limits of police power.
Ms. Mapp told the officers that she wanted to see a search warrant. They did not produce one. A few hours later, more officers arrived and forced their way into the house. Ms. Mapp called her lawyer and again asked to see a warrant. When one officer held up a piece of paper that he said was a warrant, Ms. Mapp snatched it and stuffed it into her blouse. The officer reached inside her clothing and snatched it back.
The officers handcuffed Ms. Mapp — they called her “belligerent” — and then searched her bedroom, where they paged through a photo album and personal papers. They also searched her young daughter’s room, the kitchen, a dining area and the basement.
They did not find the man they were looking for, but they did find what they said were sexually explicit materials — books and drawings that Ms. Mapp said had belonged to a previous boarder — and they arrested Ms. Mapp.
Four years later, after Ms. Mapp had been sentenced to prison on obscenity charges and after her conviction had been upheld on appeal, the Supreme Court took up the case, ostensibly because of questions it raised about obscenity and the First Amendment.
But when the justices ruled, in June 1961, their decision dwelled, with far more significant consequences, on the role of the Fourth Amendment, which protects against unlawful search and seizure. Prosecutors had never produced the supposed warrant brandished by the Cleveland police or proved that it had existed.
The court ruled, 6 to 3, that Ms. Mapp’s conviction should be thrown out, and that all state courts must suppress evidence gathered through police misconduct in certain kinds of cases.
Even though Ms. Mapp’s name is etched in legal history, she had lived quietly in recent years, and besides a brief notice on a funeral home website, it took more than a month for her death to be reported. She was believed to be 90 or 91 when she died on Oct. 31, in or near Conyers, Ga.
Colorful, sometimes brash, Ms. Mapp was married for a time to Jimmy Bivins, a top-ranked fighter who died in 2012. She was later engaged to Archie Moore, a light-heavyweight champion, whom she sued in 1956 for $750,000, claiming he had assaulted her and had backed out of their marriage plans. (He died in 1998.) The bombing that officers were investigating in 1957 had been at the home of Don King, who would go on to become a famous boxing promoter. Ms. Mapp’s encounter with the police that day would not be her last run-in with the law.
Mapp v. Ohio may not ring as familiar as other cases involving civil rights and civil liberties, but it became a legal touchstone that continues to shape cases and stir debate.
Before the ruling, federal courts were required to suppress evidence gathered illegally. The decision extended the rule — known as the exclusionary rule — to state courts. The change has put continuing pressure on police departments to conduct investigations lawfully and brought increased scrutiny when their actions appear improper. Countless cases have been affected, and sometimes thrown out.
“The state, by admitting evidence unlawfully seized, serves to encourage disobedience to the federal Constitution which it is bound to uphold,” Justice Tom C. Clark wrote in the majority opinion.
Justice Clark wrote that evidence gathered illegally had to be excluded. Other measures to address such conduct had proved “worthless and futile.”
Court decisions in the past quarter-century have made exceptions to the exclusionary rule in certain cases when evidence was gathered improperly — for example, if a law enforcement agency appears to have made the errors in good faith when it followed incorrect legal guidance or relied on incorrect information provided by another agency.
The current chief justice, John G. Roberts Jr., was a lawyer in the Reagan administration in the 1980s and helped it attack the exclusionary rule through litigation, proposed legislation and other means. In 2009, he wrote the majority opinion in Herring v. United States, a 5-to-4 decision that upheld the conviction of Bennie D. Herring after a search led to his arrest on drug and weapons charges based on false information that he was the subject of a warrant.
Some of the rule’s supporters worry that it could be significantly weakened or abolished under the current court. Jeffrey Fisher, a professor at Stanford Law School, said the issue would most likely go before the high court again as Herring is interpreted by lower courts.
“Some are reading Herring broadly,” Mr. Fisher said, “and some narrowly.”
Dollree Mapp was born in 1923 or 1924, according to census records, one of seven children of Samuel and Mary Mapp. She grew up in Forest, Miss. Her first name was spelled several ways in early records, and she was sometimes called Dolly. As an adult, Ms. Mapp gave numerous dates for her birth; public records show a wide range.
Information about her survivors was not immediately available. Her death was confirmed by the funeral home in Conyers that handled her services.
In 1968, Ms. Mapp moved from Cleveland to Queens. Two years later she was charged with possession of narcotics. Convicted in 1971 with a co-defendant, Alan Lyons, she pursued a series of appeals, claiming that the search warrant used in her arrest had been wrongly issued and that the police had targeted her because of her role in Mapp v. Ohio.
The drugs seized in the case were found at an apartment that Mr. Lyons apparently rented from Ms. Mapp. She lived several miles away. The police searched her home and found rent receipts that prosecutors argued established her as having aided and abetted Mr. Lyons. The officer who had applied for the warrant to search Ms. Mapp’s home was later dismissed from the police force after he was determined to have accepted about $3,500 from a narcotics dealer.
Ms. Mapp’s conviction was upheld, and she served time in the New York State Correctional Institution at Bedford Hills. On Dec. 31, 1980, Gov. Hugh Carey commuted her sentence, making her immediately eligible for parole.


Mapp v. Ohio, 367 U. S. 643 (1961), was a landmark case in criminal procedure, in which the United States Supreme Court decided that evidence obtained in violation of the Fourth Amendment, which protects against "unreasonable searches and seizures," may not be used in state law criminal prosecutions in state courts, as well, as had previously been the law, as in federal criminal law prosecutions in federal courts. The Supreme Court accomplished this by use of a principle known as selective incorporation; in Mapp this involved the incorporation of the provisions, as interpreted by the Court, of the Fourth Amendment which are applicable only to actions of the federal government into the Fourteenth Amendment due process clause which is applicable to actions of the states.

Background of the case[edit]

In the period from 1961 to 1969, the Warren Court examined almost every aspect of the criminal justice system in the United States, using the 4th Amendment to extend many constitutional protections to all courts in every State. This process became known as the incorporation of the Bill of Rights. During those years, cases concerning the right to legal counsel, confessions, searches, and the treatment of juvenile criminals all appeared on the Court's docket.
The Warren Court's revolution in the criminal justice system began with the case of Mapp v. Ohio, the first of several significant cases in which it re-evaluated the role of the 4th Amendment as it applied to State judicial review.[citation needed]

Circumstances of the case[edit]

On May 23, 1957, police officers in Cleveland, Ohio, received information that a suspect in a bombing case, as well as some illegal betting equipment, might be found in the home of Dollree (or Doll Rae) Mapp (1923/24–2014). Three officers went to the home and asked for permission to enter, but Mapp refused to admit them without a search warrant. Two officers left, and one remained. Three hours later, the two returned with several other officers. Brandishing a piece of paper, they broke in the door. Mapp asked to see the “warrant” and took it from an officer, putting it in her dress. The officers struggled with Mapp and took the fake warrant away from her. They handcuffed her for being “belligerent.” The police searched the house thoroughly, but did not find the bombing suspect or the betting equipment.[1][2] They did, however, find pornographic material in a trunk that Mapp stated a previous tenant had left behind.[3] She was arrested, prosecuted, and found guilty of "knowingly having had in her possession and under her control certain lewd and lascivious books, pictures, and photographs in violation of 2905.34 of Ohio's Revised Code". [1]


The U.S. Supreme Court voted 6-3 in favor of Mapp. The Court overturned the conviction, and five justices found that the States were bound to exclude evidence seized in violation of the 4th Amendment.[4]