For as eminently debatable as this week’s arrest of Professor Henry Louis Gates and its aftermath may be for people who are properly qualified to discuss the state of race relations in America, I am not one of those people.² But I have been excited to see how much attention this story has brought to the Commonwealth’s colonial-era disorderly conduct statute, and this is as good a time as any for us to review once again why its continued existence is nothing but an embarassment to us all.

Professor Gates, as we all know by now, was arrested for disorderly conduct on his own front porch in Cambridge last week. Police had been called by a concerned citizen who reported a burglary while watching Gates and his driver attempting to strongarm a door to which Gates had misplaced his keys after a trip to China. The police arrived and established Gates’s identity with a photo ID which included the address in which they were standing.

According to the police report, Gates then became upset and expressed his opinions regarding the injustice of the situation, the Cambridge Police Department, and the treatment of African-American men by police in the United States, at which point he was cuffed and arrested for disorderly conduct as a small crowd gathered. The charge was subsequently killed several days later, together with the usual “not our best moment, not his best moment” statement from the Cambridge PD.

Letting this go was the right move for all concerned, obviously. But what if the case had gone forward?

As I have previously discussed as thoroughly as I cared to, the Commonwealth’s disorderly conduct statute is a facially unconstitutional 400-year-old mess that has been preserved only through willful acts of judicial alchemy. Unfortunately, its many vagaries and moving parts have made it a reliable standby in the collective arsenal of law enforcement officers throughout the Commonwealth and, right or wrong, it is all too common to see this charge brought after an arrest in which the defendant has forgone his Fifth Amendment right to remain silent in favor of his First Amendment right to express his opinion about the situation.

The defense’s first strategy would almost certainly have been to move to dismiss the charge. Looking at only one of this crime’s many possible elements, it is highly unlikely that Gates’s alleged conduct (even assuming that it was just as obnoxious as reported) caused or created a risk of “public inconvenience or alarm.” According to the police report, his confrontation with police began in his own kitchen after he had provided them with evidence of his identity; he was then was invited to step out and continue the discussion on his own front porch. Although the police report alleges that a small crowd was gathering at this point, the fact remains that the officers had no reason to be there once they had established that Gates had not just burgled the place, and it seems highly unlikely that that this gracefully-aging gentleman with a cane, a bronchial infection, 12 hours of jet lag, and a Harvard ID was otherwise likely to pose any risk of “public inconvenience or alarm.”³

The “public” element aside, however, there is the basic issue of a citizen’s right to vocally disagree with the police. While most reasonable people can agree that it’s probably best to keep calm in the face of possible arrest, it is also understandable that, as the U.S. Supreme Court has previously held, your average law-abiding citizen is going to get a little worked up if he feels that he is being treated like a criminal for no good reason. Despite the best efforts of the police to work the magic words “tumultuous” and “served no legitimate purpose” into the affidavit in support of the criminal complaint [page 4], Gates’s conduct closely resembles that of defendants in at least two other Massachusetts appellate cases⁴ in which disorderly conduct convictions have been reversed:

In Commonwealth v. Lopiano, 60 Mass. App. Ct. 723 (2004), police had just witnessed the defendant assaulting his girlfriend before they moved in to arrest him; he then began flailing his arms and yelling loudly about his civil rights and such. In reversing his conviction for disorderly conduct, the Appeals Court noted that his behavior was not “extreme” or otherwise threatening, and was not therefore statutorily “tumultuous.”

Commonwealth v. Zettel, 46 Mass. App. Ct. 471 (1999), my personal favorite in this line of cases, held that a difference of opinion with a police officer is a “legitimate purpose” that may provide a proper defense against a charge of disorderly conduct. Although the defendant in Zettel had actually kicked a cop in the shins following an argument with him over her right to a parking spot in Fall River, the court held that her conduct arose from a “legitimate purpose” for causing a scene. But this is consistent: Massachusetts and other jurisdictions have found “legitimate purpose” for causes as diverse as protecting your water supply and attempting to save your marriage, so why not challenging a police officer who is expressing an intent to arrest you?

For as much fun as this little Gedankenexperiment may be, we are still talking about a criminal offense which carries up to six months of committed time. Disorderly conduct charges are regularly and routinely brought against defendants of every description around the Commonwealth—most of whom do not have Al Sharpton on speed-dial—under nearly identical circumstances. Let’s hope that all of this publicity will finally shame the legislature into putting G.L.c. 272 Sec. 53 out of its misery.

1. Note: Nobody should ever call this incident “Gatesgate,” for any reason.
2. For what it’s worth, I believe that the heartless and disturbingly insensitive prosecution of UMass Amherst student Jason Vassell is a far better example of the point that Gates and his supporters have been trying to make… it was really only the fact that it happened in Western Massachusetts that has kept it out of the conversation.
3. This is generally defined as “affecting or likely to affect persons in a place to which the public or a substantial group has access.” Commonwealth v. Molligi, 70 Mass. App. Ct. 108 (2007). So maybe a few people could hear him from the sidewalk—but so what? I just don’t see it. “Public” really should mean “public.” As a policy matter, this statute is supposed to preserve public order, not the sensibilities of police officers.
4. There are many more, but these are the two that immediately came to mind when I read the Gates police report

I happened to be in the Appeals Court the morning that they took up this unusually amusing case. Here are just a couple of instructive excerpts taken verbatim from my notebook:

JUSTICE GREEN (within first minute of argument): “I don’t know why this case is here.”

JUSTICE BROWN (waving his arms around umpire-style): “The Commonwealth wins on all five issues here. All five! That’s called a shutout. The Commonwealth has nailed it.”

It’s not often that appellate judges tell you exactly how they’re going to dispose of a case during the course of oral arguments, let alone within the first sixty seconds. Usually cases in which the outcome will be so obvious are relegated to the purgatory of the appropriately-named “non-argument list,” and the parties never have a chance to show up to explain themselves before an opinion issues. Having actually seen this one for myself, however, I have to suspect that the Court only put it on the calendar for the same reason that Steven Hawking might want to keep a book of easy Soduku puzzles handy on the coffee table: It’s just good, clean, mindless fun.

As an appeal, Harrington had only one reason to live: a District Court judge with a grudge against the current state of the Commonwealth’s ridiculous disorderly conduct statute which dates back to his time as a Massachusetts state representative.¹

In the course of a totally routine disorderly conduct case, the judge took it upon himself to try to convince the Court of Appeals that it should hold the current interpretation of the statute² unconstitutional and strictly limit the law to its face.

Harrington came to the Court not as a direct appeal but via something which, the Court snidely notes, “ostensibly” took the form of a “reported question” under Mass.R.Crim.Pro 34. (This is a fun-but-rarely-used vehicle by which trial courts may send up questions of law which are “so important or doubtful” as to require resolution by the Appeals Court before proceeding to trial.) But the Court is not even convinced that there is a “question” in Harrington at all, and they’ve certainly got a point.

Three of them, actually:

1) The District Court was asking the Appeals Court to overrule the Supreme Judicial Court. This not only directly violated Robert Heinlein’s familiar proscription against teaching pigs to sing³, but may in fact have actually been more pointless than that.⁴

It’s just Not How Things Are Done, is what I’m trying to say. Lower appellate courts can’t overrule higher ones; they just can’t, no more than a lowly squaddie may draw up detailed battle plans, a state governor set federal immigration policy, or an older sibling overrule a curfew set by the head of the household. Even the courts have a chain of command, and it has to be followed just as strictly as any other.

2) The Appeals Court has not seen the inside of a college dorm room for many, many years. To my knowledge, none of them own beanbag chairs, hackeysacks, or drug rugs, and they certainly do not want to sit up late with you for academic bull sessions while drinking Jolt Cola and listening to John Zorn records. If they are going to strike down a statute⁵, they’re going to have to have an actual appeal based upon an actual start-to-finish case in front of them to hang their actual decision on. They’ve already got more than enough actual appeals from actual cases to deal with, thank you very much, and they just don’t have time for your what-ifs.

3) The legislature has amended this statute twice since the Commonwealth’s highest court handed down Alegeta, and the law generally presumes the Great and General Court are all total SJC fanboys/girls who spend their weekends updating their pocket parts. If our elected representatives had believed that there was something wrong with the way that our unelected judicial gatekeepers had interpreted the statute, either of those amendments could have done something about this. But they didn’t.

1. I totally agree on this, but I’ve already hated on this statute more than once in this space and I’ll try to restrain myself now.
2. Following the SJC’s opinion in Alegata v. Commonwealth, 353 Mass. 287 [1967], this law now officially includes a definition of “disorderly” which is found nowhere in the statute
3. ”…it wastes your time and annoys the pig.”
4. Maybe I’ve just read Charlotte’s Web one too many times, but I have to believe that there might be a particularly talented, irresistably anthropromorphic, pig out there somewhere who could actually be taught to sing.
5. Which, on balance, they probably won’t anyway

But, like the man said, the past isn’t dead… it isn’t even past. For as much as there is to love about having a constitution and an attorney’s oath that are at least twice as old as most American states, it also means that we sometimes have to live with statutes that are just as old–or older.

Our legislature’s woeful failure to update some of our creakiest and most ancient statutes seems to be driven by the same philosophy that has kept the cult of King James going in certain Christian circles: If it was good enough in 1620, it’s good enough for 2008.

Take G.L.c. 272 Sec. 53 (…please!). Although it’s usually referenced as the “disorderly conduct” statute, it is actually a tasty smorgasbord of old-timey criminality. Namely:

Common night walkers, common street walkers, both male and female, common railers and brawlers, persons who with offensive and disorderly acts or language accost or annoy persons of the opposite sex, lewd, wanton and lascivious persons in speech or behavior, idle and disorderly persons, disturbers of the peace, keepers of noisy and disorderly houses, and persons guilty of indecent exposure…

There’s a lot to say about this damnably stupid law, starting with this: It needs to die. Just ask our own Supreme Judicial Court:

We note at the outset that G.L.c. 272 Sec. 53 has been saved, although sometimes just barely, by several limiting constructions and we have repeatedly commented that the statute is archaic and in need of legislative scrutiny.

Commonwealth v. Chou, 433 Mass. 229 (2001), FN2.

Which is to say: Boys,  load up yer shotguns, drag this thing out back, and kindly shoot it in the HEAD.

Fair game, as were prior remarks that this section has “had a tortured history” (too lazy for a full cite, but it was 1975), and is “obviously is badly in need of careful legislative attention and comprehensive revision and rearranging” (same, 1981).

All true. Sec. 53 has been in legal force in one form or another since the earliest days of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, back when freedom of speech meant “freedom of Biblically-sanctioned Puritan speech” and your mom was just getting started in her storied career as a common night walker. Its manifest “constitutional infirmities” (1988) have been remedied only by acts of judicial triage, most significantly a constructive grafting of the Model Penal Code’s definition of “disorderly” (1975) as well as generously limiting its scope to “conduct which involves no lawful exercise of a First Amendment right” (1976).

And it used to be much worse. The last serious attempt to revise and rearrange Sec. 53 “to simplify, to clarify, to modernize, and to make more precise an ancient statute some of the terms of which were difficult to define and had come to have a flavor of obsolescence” was undertaken in 1941. See Commonwealth v. Lombard, 321 Mass. 294 (1947); See also Commonwealth v. Diamond, 248 Mass. 511 (1924)(tracing disorderly conduct statute’s history from 17th century colonial law to the 1920s).

The 1941 reform decriminalized the conduct of a whole merry band of ne’er-do-wells previously named in Sec. 53’s predecessor. To wit: “rogues and vagabonds,” “common pipers and fiddlers,”persons who use any juggling or unlawful games or plays,” “pilferers,” “persons who neglect all lawful business and habitually misspend their time by frequenting houses of ill fame, gaming houses or tippling shops ,” (these last being, I gather, some kind of Victorian packies) and (my favorite) “persons who neglect their calling or employment or who misspend what they earn and do not provide for themselves.” Lombard, again, but see also Alegata v. Commonwealth, 353 Mass. 287 (1967). (When taken as a whole, it appears that this revision also effectively legitimized the existence of most of Allston-Brighton.)

So that’s all pretty hilariously self-explanatory. What is not is why what is left of Sec. 53 hasn’t gone the way of old chestnuts like the  one that used to criminalize “tramps” (still going strong while Lowell native Jack Kerouac was on the road), or the one about any “person known to be a pickpocket, thief or burglar… acting in a suspicious manner around any steamboat landing [etc],” both of which were  gutshot by Alegata more than forty years ago while Sec. 53 was left on life support.

Yes, our creepy Puritan great-uncle still wanders the old post roads, a cheerless zombie who munches nuts and berries while sprinkling himself with ashes as he mumbles about the Commonwealth of idle and disorderly railers and brawlers and common night walkers we’ve become.

As amusing as this bit of colonial arcana is, it is also a real law with real consequences, under which real people are convicted every day.  I presently have four separate appeals pending in which my clients were charged and convicted under this statute. Three of these four were sentenced to the maximum six months of committed time on the basis of nothing more than things that they said to other people and I still just don’t see why.

Next: prepare to be accosted and/or annoyed!