Edwin Edwards didn’t do nothing. He was framed by prosecutors, reporters and friends who traded on his name. That is the thrust of a nine page letter added to the second edition of Leo Honeycutt’s book, Edwin Edwards: An Authorized Biography. I happened to be in Cottonwood Bookstore touting my own book the morning Leo’s tome went on sale.  I think I was the first in the store purchase a copy. Hopefully, the first edition becomes a collectors item (make me an offer) because of the omission of the Edwards Epilogue/Letter  assessing blame for his tarnished reputation.

“From day one, I was despised by some news organizations,” he laments. As a small part of “some news organizations,” I can only speak for myself. But I liked Edwin from day one of his announced intention to run for Governor, which was more than two years before his campaign. When then Congressman Edwards revealed his plans on my radio show, I knew very little about the Crowley politician. By the end of my show, though, I was ready to run out and cast my vote for him. He was that impressive.

The Edwards biography credits newspaper reporter Larry Dickinson with doing the first accusatory—a liberal use of the word—story about Edwards after he was elected. Actually, Larry was parroting a story I aired the previous day. It was not a biggie. I disclosed that a federal grand jury was investigating an allegation that a lobbyist had been pressured by Edwin’s brother to retain a Baton Rouge lawyer as his organization’s legal counsel. In fact, the attorney was  the guy who asked me to book Edwin as a guest on the talk show two years earlier.

I don’t recall my source tipping me to the grand jury inquiry. Probably an FBI agent. Anyway, there is a humorous side-bar. I attended a media event at the Governor’s Mansion a few days after my report. When Edwin greeted me, his first words were, in effect, “You need to stop repeating Larry Dickinson’s stories.” I didn’t confess that Larry was repeating my story.

In 1972 and early 1973 during Edwards first term, I had just taken on the title of “investigative reporter”—the result of a convoluted series of personal tragedies. Anyone interested in my downfall and subsequent recovery can read my book, Odyssey of a Derelict Gunslinger. The “derelict gunslinger” label was attached to me by Edwards a decade later in reference to my checkered past and eventual craft as a mud-slinger.

But back in the early months of his Administration, my initial story about a grand jury probe of influence peddling was my only “investigative’ report about the new Governor. By early 1973, my skills as a muckraker improved to the point that I started collecting journalism prizes. And thus began a nine-year gypsy-like journey to Miami, Boston and New York before returning to Baton Rouge for seven glorious years that preceded my recruitment by CNN.

It was during my Baton Rouge reprise that I earned the enduring enmity of Edwards. A strange over-reaction given that in the course of seven years, I probably reported only three or four investigative stories focusing on  Edwards. As I wrote in previous posts, his spin on those reports in Leo’s book alters reality. The same variations of reality are in the Edwards letter added as an Epilogue to the second edition of his “authorized” biography.

He does admit being guilty of arrogance. And he apologizes in the August 9, 2009, letter for things he said about the late Governor Dave Treen. He also admits his guilt in mixing too much personal business with governing. However, Edwards rationalizes that his top salary as Governor was a measily $70,000. He does not mention free housing, food, limousines, private planes and helicopter, personal servants and security, a lucrative retirement pension, and various other perks—plus a huge pot of campaign funds to dip into for a wide range of purposes.

In citing his intertwining personal and government dealings, Edwards  answers his own question about the news media’s perception of him as a rogue and scoundrel. But perception is everything when it comes to politics. That is why so many reporters, prosecutors, law enforcement agents and a lot of voters considered Edwards a crook. In fact, many of his personal deals were barely borderline legal. And in the wake of changes in ethics laws, some of these activities would probably be illegal today. As a sitting Governor, he was tried three times on federal charges but never convicted. However, not guilty does not translate to innocence.

Still, there is a belief among friends of the former Governor—as well as many foes—that he was convicted of past transgressions rather than the charges that sent him to prison. I agree. But as Edwards points out in his letter, that would be patently unconstitutional. I also agree. And as I wrote in previous posts, it is also my opinion his current imprisonment was orchestrated by ambitious prosecutors, a pill-popping hanging judge, FBI agents with selective memories, witnesses hoping to save their asses, and a jury trying to meet expectations. But that is the cost of arrogance.

In my first encounter with Edwards four decades ago, I came away from an hour long interview thinking he was about the smartest politician I ever met. After reading his letter in the second edition of Leo’s book, I realize that no matter the smarts of a successful politicians like Edwards, they rarely see themselves as others do. And he never will.