Power: The Importance of Being Ernie
But as for his profile, in crummy old Scranton: Yes, Ernie makes headlines, but he’s rarely up top; he’s usually buried in the story. He recently scored a huge victory for Poconos developer Gene Percudani by persuading state prosecutors they didn’t have enough evidence to indict the Monroe County homebuilder. Percudani was investigated for participating in what was alleged to be an elaborate scheme to trick naive New Yorkers into buying and building overpriced homes in the Poconos. That generated three days’ worth of headlines in scores of newspapers. When you add in all the time Ernie gets in the spotlight lobbying in the Capitol Rotunda for more judicial discretion in sentencing, for juries to decide punishment in first-degree murder cases, for DNA testing, you’d think he’d be satisfied. But none of the publicity he gets now compares with the big title and daily spotlight he had as A.G. He’s just a lawyer in private practice, a guy with his shingle hung trying to scratch out a living, which means he also takes on clients like a biker from the Outlaws motorcycle gang who needed help with his divorce. Ernie is discriminating, though; he says he doesn’t take just anybody who comes down the pike. In fact, he recently turned away a previous criminal client who had gotten into some serious trouble, because the man couldn’t afford his fee, which could have been $60,000. “I’m not a public defender,” Ernie says.
Clients find him, judges find him, lawyers find him. They all tend to look upon his travails — the political fund-raising scandal, the denials, the guilty plea, the 11-month stint in a federal pen, the calamitous motorcycle accident, and his crusade for prison reform — as a positive total package, not a liability. Ernie, of course, knows this. “I’m someone who can give them counsel,” he says. “I’ve been through the humiliation of a fall from grace.”
Ernie Preate isn’t what he used to be, but he’s still Ernie Preate. With Ernie, there’s never a black-and-white answer on who he really is. It’s troubling, the way he refuses to accept responsibility for his past, plus his ongoing need for public acclaim. But if you focus on what Ernie’s doing now, as a family man, a crusader for prison reform, and a criminal defense lawyer trying to help people — not unlike Robert Shapiro or Johnny Cochran in his desire to get headlines — then you see someone who has turned his life around.
When old Ernie is trying to emerge, he would be wise to curl up with one of his favorite magazines, Forbes or Smart Money or Fortune, on a couch in his sprawling house outside Scranton, and spend the day with his cats and his three-year-old. But that’s a hard thing for a guy like Ernie to do.
When he is invited to the inauguration of Pennsylvania Attorney General Tom Corbett — his daughter Liz, a Philadelphia lawyer, was on Corbett’s transition team — Ernie wants to go. Not a good choice.
