If it were up to me, I would have long ago set Edwin Edwards free. Although the former Governor and I had an extremely contentious relationship years ago during my days at Channel Two in Baton Rouge, I believe he was railroaded into prison by an ambitious federal prosecutor, a pill-popping, hanging judge and a jury that was deprived of the opportunity to consider exculpatory evidence that would have resulted in a different verdict. I don’t mean to excuse Edwards of ethical lapses throughout his political career that were borderline criminal. As a compulsive gambler, he apparently enjoyed the thrill of walking on the edge of disaster. If Leo Honeycutt’s “authorized’ biography is any guide, it appears that Edwards continues to justify all of his ethical failures during four term’s as Louisiana Governor. But he is beyond the point of doing any harm and to his credit, many of his accomplishments as the state’s chief executive were positive—not the least being, he made us laugh.

Among the distortions in Edwards ”authorized” biography, is his memory regarding litigation between the state of Louisiana and Texaco, a conglomerate that can trace its roots to the Win or Lose Corporation. The company was formed in 1934 by Huey Long and two partners, both who served as Governor. Fifty years later, the principle assets of the Win or Lose successor company were Texaco oil leases. Between Edwin Edwards second and third terms as Governor, he was retained as a Texaco lawyer  before changing sides to represent a New Orleans financier, who claimed Texaco failed to pay him royalties on property in southwest Louisiana. The company generously settled out of court, earning Edwards a sizeable fee, though there is no indication he did anything but lend his name to the case. Less than a year later after being re-elected, Edwards seemingly repaid Texaco for its generosity by canceling an ongoing audit by a national accounting firm, which had already determined that the oil company owed Louisiana at $100-million in royalties. A company executive described the figure as outlandish, which turned out to be true. Texaco ultimately paid the state $400-million. Meantime, when I revealed the Governor’s obvious conflicts of interest, he called a news conference. “A good story, wrong conclusion,” he said. Edwards declined an interview prior to my story unless it was done live during the six p.m. newscast. News Director John Spain refused, saying he was not going to give Edwards an unlimited forum to attack the station—and me for that matter. In Leo’s book, Edwards’ retrospective suggests my disclosure was a non-story, mainly I guess because he was never indicted. After all this time to reflect in a federal prison, Edwards still can’t distinguish between outrageous ethical violations and criminal misconduct. But what the hell?  Let him go.