Scenes From the Madhouse

by Howard Altman

The man in the glass booth takes his turn sitting at the desk and speaking into the microphone.

“Not guilty,” says the man, Richard Sprague, who is also a myth and a legend in this town.

Sprague is here today fresh off a European vacation with state Sen. Vinny Fumo, the guy who considers himself the most powerful politician in town. After so much time with His Hubrisness, Sprague was ready to ruuuuuummmmble, loudly proclaiming the innocence of Allen Iverson, the cornrowed kid from Hampton, Va., who makes nearly $12 million annually burying baskets.

"The plea of Mr. Iverson is very strongly and clearly not guilty," says Sprague, practically chewing on the mic.

Sprague is talking to bail commissioner Abraham Polokoff, who will decide the price of freedom for the former NBA All-Star now charged with barging into his cousin's home looking for his wife, Tawanna, brandishing a gun and threatening the lives of Charles Jones and Hakim Carey.

But Sprague is aiming his message at the 20-odd newsies who have packed the basement bail hearing room of the Criminal Justice Center, part of the stampede that has spread mayhem from Monk Road to Eighth and Race in an effort to uncover anything and everything Iverson.

"I want everyone to hear this loud and clear."

Devon Martin hears what Sprague is saying.

A clerk of courts, who minutes earlier introduced himself to Sprague as "your client's number-one fan," Martin is one of more than a dozen court personnel who filtered into the bail hearing room to catch a glimpse of the city's most infamous suspect. Shortly after Sprague delivers his opening salvo, Martin opens the door to the waiting room and delivers a scolding message of his own.

"I hope you put a positive spin on things now," he says to the reporters.

When Dick Sprague speaks, you haven't a choice but to listen. This former first assistant district attorney once took on the Kennedy assassination and has made it a habit over the years of beating up on the press via lawsuits and threatening missives.

A few years ago, I was lucky enough to have been deposed by the great one, in a suit over a column I wrote about the Board of City Trusts. Sprague is a masterful lawyer, who will tear Jones and Carey to shreds. I know this from spending hours with him in small rooms listening to his "This Is Your Life" inquisition into my dark criminal past, which consists mostly of an arrest for skinny-dipping.

Allegedly, Jones and Carey are victims, but they will be trashed by Sprague and Guy Sciolla, a lawyer for drug dealers, this time representing Gregory Iverson, also charged in this mess. All in an effort to prevent the conviction of a trouble-making street punk who gets away with so much because he is handy with a ball.

Speaking from experience, I feel kind of bad for Jones and Carey.

As he steps into an SUV, trying to escape the crush of the microphones and notebooks, Sprague -- who has just told the world that Iverson is completely innocent -- has the fire in those bug eyes.

We hate this Iverson thing, the media, we really do. Two Philadelphians were murdered and 55 non-Iversons were arrested on gun charges from July 11 to 16, but we don't care about them. Osama bin who? WorldCom did what?

I probably wouldn't have been on this thing if it weren't for The New York Times, which needed a Sherpa. First broken by the Daily News, the story became an international avalanche, and the Times wanted someone with local connections. The opportunity forced me to survey the mishegoss.

On Wednesday, Lt. Michael Chitwood, after giving me an update, joked that his proclivity for talking would knock him off the force. A few days later, when asked about the shakiness of Jones and Carey as witnesses, Chitwood said it wouldn't keep him up at night if Iverson walks. "There's nothing personal between me and Iverson," he said.

Thursday afternoon, as I stood outside the Southwest Detectives Division, where Chitwood and his crew were leading the investigation, two black women in a car drove by, shouting, "Leave Allen alone! Leave Allen alone!"

A doctor in Gladwyne who lives across the street from Iverson joked that he is so fed up with the overwrought coverage that he might shoot down a news chopper if assault weapons were legal.

Lynne Abraham, whose office dodged the full might of the media on the Lex Street disaster, said it was merely a matter of timing that the Iverson mess exploded on top of the explosion of the case against four men accused of killing seven.

Police Commissioner Sylvester Johnson, truly a nice man caught in the middle, talked about how ridiculous it was for black talk-show listeners to call in and complain about police treatment of Iverson when Iverson is accused of threatening to shoot someone with a gun, an event that is killing a community, which deeply pains the city's top cop.

Like many, many people, Johnson has had it with the media. But he has retained his cool.

"I can't blame the news," he said. "I can't blame the police department or blame the complainants. I put the blame on Mr. Iverson. If he didn't do what he is alleged to have done, none of us would be involved in this."

If only that were the case. But Iverson is a thug, and as long as he's a Sixer, it's only a matter of time before we're all back at this again.




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