Fitzpatrick is recalled as a spellbinding court presence

One trait that stood out about F. Emmett Fitzpatrick Jr., colleagues said, was his spellbinding eloquence.

Never was it more on display than in spring 1976, when the then-district attorney personally prosecuted one of the highest-profile murder cases in Philadelphia history, the lurid beating and stabbing of newspaper heir John Knight.

"Salvatore Soli," Fitzpatrick told the court, standing near the defendant, "was the captain of the team. He was the quarterback, the man who made each and every decision, the leader of a band of Vikings wreaking terror all over Rittenhouse Square."

Minutes after Fitzpatrick's summation, Soli's mother collapsed of an apparent heart attack and was rushed to a hospital, retired Daily News reporter Ron Avery wrote in his book City of Brotherly Mayhem: Philadelphia Crimes and Criminals.

Soli was convicted and sentenced to life in prison.

Fitzpatrick, 84, died Tuesday after a long battle with Alzheimer's disease. For four years, he was a resident of Crest Haven Nursing Home in Cape May Court House, N.J.

On Thursday, friends, colleagues, and adversaries remembered him as a large presence in Philadelphia, an orator, politician, and teacher, a keen observer of the scene who often appeared as a panelist on the Sunday morning public-affairs show Inside Story.

He was quick-witted, funny, and had great recall, friends said. As an attorney, he both prosecuted and defended people accused of terrible things.

"I thought Emmett was a superb trial lawyer," said Walter M. Phillips Jr., a veteran Philadelphia defense lawyer and former prosecutor.

Born in Philadelphia and raised in the Roxborough section, he graduated from St. Joseph's Preparatory School and from St. Joseph's College. He received a full merit scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania Law School and received his degree in 1955.

The next year, Fitzpatrick was hired as a Philadelphia assistant district attorney, and in 1962 become first assistant district attorney under James Crumlish Jr. When Crumlish was defeated by Republican Arlen Specter, Mr. Fitzpatrick went into private practice.

But politics beckoned. In 1973, Democratic leaders recruited Fitzpatrick to run. He scored an unexpected victory over Specter, taking office in January 1974.

While no one doubted his courtroom skill, Fitzpatrick's tenure was swamped with controversy over his conduct as a public official.

The Inquirer reported - and Fitzpatrick later admitted - that he had invoked his Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination when called before a federal grand jury investigating whether a robbery at a local auto dealership had ties to organized crime.

On another occasion, Fitzpatrick filed a city expense account seeking reimbursement for an out-of-town dinner when he had actually used the money to buy a safari jacket at an exclusive men's store.

Fitzpatrick was never charged with wrongdoing, and his son F. Emmett Fitzpatrick III, who is also an attorney, this week dismissed the allegations as "all politics."

But voters were angry. In the 1977 Democratic primary, a little-known challenger, Edward Rendell, defeated Fitzpatrick by campaigning against alleged corruption. Rendell went on to win the general election.

"It was clear that as a cumulative result of all of Fitzpatrick's controversial acts, voters couldn't wait to go to the polls in 1977 and basically throw him out of office," said Tony Lame, a former Inquirer City Hall reporter. "You don't lose a Democratic primary election in Philadelphia when you have the party's backing unless the voters are extremely unhappy with your conduct in office."

Mr. Fitzpatrick went on to become a prominent defense lawyer, representing reputed mobsters including Raymond "Long John" Martorano and Teamsters boss Frank "The Irishman" Sheeran, who shortly before his death confessed to killing Jimmy Hoffa.

Other clients never made headlines. And some he represented for free, because they needed help and couldn't pay, friends said.

In court, they said, Fitzpatrick avoided narrow legal arguments, instead crafting full, explanatory narratives.

"He would see a case in terms of, 'What is this person's story?' " recalled friend and fellow Philadelphia lawyer John Morris. " 'What is it that makes it seem like he didn't do it, or if he did it, why you ought to forgive him for it?' "

At times, after making a particularly compelling point, Fitzpatrick would wait until the jury left the room, then stroll over to waiting reporters and mimic a golf swing, hitting a long, imaginary drive down the fairway.

He hated the press. But he loved the law, teaching advanced trial techniques at Widener University Law School.

"As a trial lawyer, he was absolutely superb. Respected by judges, highly regarded by juries," said Morris, who served as Fitzpatrick's first assistant in the District Attorney's Office and later worked with him on defense cases.

Often, Morris said, he would handle the mechanics of the defense and Fitzpatrick "would win the case with his closing argument."

In 2006, at dinner after a trial, Fitzpatrick told him he was going to have to retire because of memory problems, Morris said.

"He recognized he wasn't as sharp," Morris said. "I started to miss him as soon as he was losing his capacities."

Services are scheduled for Saturday, Sept. 6, at St. Matthias Roman Catholic Church, 128 Bryn Mawr Ave., Bala Cynwyd, with a viewing from 9 to 11 a.m., followed by a Funeral Mass at 11. Burial will be in Westminster Cemetery, Bala Cynwyd.EndText

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@JeffGammage