Editors: I Couldn't Get Anyone to Arrest Me

Any reader of the San Francisco Chronicle will tell you that Scott Newhall is not one of your milquetoast editors. There was, for instance, the night last February when a gang of white segregationists roughed up one of the paper's photographers covering a meeting about bussing schoolchildren. Next day, Newhall's anger exploded on the editorial page: "As of this moment we do not know the identity of these preposterous boors, but when we find out, the aging executive editor of this newspaper is going to do his best to kick their teeth right through the back of their heads."

Strong stuff for a man who has an artificial leg and a heart condition, and who is not exactly in fighting trim at 55. But he meant it, and as a courtesy to the "social Neanderthals," he listed his office phone number, home address and the usual hour (8 p.m.) he could be found "on the darkened Fifth Street sidewalk at the side entrance to the Chronicle." No one showed up.

Tax into License. Just now, Newhall is defying the city of San Francisco to throw him in jail for putting his mouth where his money should be. At issue is a new local ordinance requiring businesses—including newspapers—to pay a tax on their gross receipts, whether they are profitable or not. Such taxes are not unprecedented; they exist in more than half the states. Still, Newhall protests on the grounds that "this tax is a license, and therefore becomes, in effect, a jurisdictional regulation of the press, which has been prohibited by both the United States Constitution and the California Constitution."

The Chronicle paid despite his objections, but Newhall is fighting privately as owner of the Signal, a small (circ.: 2,265) suburban newspaper outside Los Angeles. Since 30 copies of the Signal are sold in San Francisco, Newhall asked the city whether the tax would apply to him. Yes, it would, said the city; it would probably cost about $3.75 each quarter.

As Newhall tells it: "I talked to the mayor, who said my argument impressed him, and if I would come up with an amendment involving only newspapers, he'd take a fresh look at it. He's a very bright guy and a very good lawyer. At least he says he is. Anyway, the thing dragged on, and finally I just lost patience and wrote a letter stating I wouldn't comply. Then I couldn't get anyone to arrest me.

"So I got the head of the copy boys to make a citizen's arrest, and we went to see the sheriff. He said, Go see the D.A. The D.A. said, Go see the police. The police said, Go see the D.A. I had one final recourse: to go before a judge and have the arrest made in his presence. The judge, who was a gentleman, accepted it. My employee swore out some complaints, and I insisted they give me a number, take the fingerprints, and so forth." Newhall finally was promised his day in municipal court at the end of the month; if he does not get satisfaction there, he will appeal. "I will absolutely carry it as far as I have to," he says.