Al Farese Day

By Robert M. Joost and Richard C. Chambers, Jr.

'Al Farese had to be one of the most unusual lawyers who ever practiced in the United States. In that respect, how many lawyers have been labeled at an early age as the “boy orator,” been charged with kidnapping in their twenties while serving as a city councilor, received a year sentence in federal prison for contempt because they allegedly threatened witnesses with violence, and had his law partner’s leg blown off with a car bomb outside their office—just to name a few odd occurrences in one’s law practice?'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 19, 2021
• ISBN: 9781365132391

Book preview

AL FARESE DAY

by

Robert M. Joost

Richard C. Chambers, Jr.

Copyright © 2021 by Robert M. Joost & Richard C. Chambers, Jr.

All rights reserved.  This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2021

ISBN: 978-1-365-13239-1

Authors’ Notes

Co-authoring the biography of Alfred P. Farese, Sr. was suggested to me by Richard C. Chambers, Jr.  Rich knew of my background—writing legal briefs and creatively—and when he returned in the summer of 2018 from a vacation with his family we went to breakfast and he suggested we work together writing a biography about his grandfather.  At the time I was about to begin marketing several self-published novels that I had finally gotten into print, but Rich suggested I hold off and first write a draft about Al Farese.

I had lived in Providence, 40 miles away in Rhode Island. up until 2016 and yet I had heard about Al.  I couldn’t recall any specific stories about him, but I associated the name with mob lawyers since it was mobsters from whom I had heard the name, perhaps 50 years or so before. From the little amount of background Rich had given me about Al, I tentatively agreed that I’d do a little research and then get right back to him.

In just a few days I was blown away.  Al Farese had to be one of the most unusual lawyers who ever practiced in the United States.  In that respect, how many lawyers have been labeled at an early age as the boy orator, been charged with kidnapping in their twenties while serving as a city councilor, received a year sentence in federal prison for contempt because they allegedly threatened witnesses with violence, and had his law partner’s leg blown off with a car bomb outside their office—just to name a few odd occurrences in one’s law practice?  The more I dug into the life of Al, the more I realized that this was a story that had to be memorialized for posterity.

RMJ

In the late 1990’s, when my practice was just getting into gear as a new attorney in my early 30’s, I happened to end up in the Superior Court in Salem, Massachusetts.  Superior Court is where the more serious felonies are tried, and I had a client charged with a serious drug charge that had a mandatory minimum sentence of three years.  This was my first Superior Court case, and up until that time I only had litigated criminal cases in the District Courts where the maximum sentence was two-and-a-half years in the county jail.  Most of those sentenced to the county jails could earn one-day of good time for each day served, but a state prison sentence in the Superior Court—for example, 5-to-10 years—required the minimum to be served.  So, practicing in the Superior Court could result in dire sentences for a defendant and there was a lot of responsibility attached to one’s advocacy.

My case was before Judge Whitehead, a seasoned jurist who I had never appeared before and who I knew little about.  However, everyone had told me beforehand that he was a hardass.  My opponent, representing the Commonwealth, was a woman who had treated me arrogantly and been very obnoxious.  We had negotiated a plea in the case, and had agreed that I could seek the minimum and she would be asking for five years—which she had made plain to me the defendant deserved, although he was a first offender.

By then, I had a habit of wearing my grandfather’s, Al Farese’s, college ring.  He had been graduated by the University of Alabama, which he had attended on a boxing scholarship.  The ring bore the resemblance of the school mascot, an elephant.  I wore the ring because whenever I did so I felt my grandfather’s support emanating from it; and having the support of Al Farese, who had the reputation of being one of the best trial lawyers to have practiced in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, was beyond measure.

My case was finally called to the bar by the clerk. The prosecutor noted her name to the judge as representing the Commonwealth and then I stood and gave my name as the defendant’s attorney.  The judge sat up straight and stared at me, then told me to approach the sidebar of his bench, out of earshot of the remainder of the courtroom.  The prosecutor came with me.

Are you related to Dicky Chambers? Judge Whitehead asked me.  He meant my father, of course, Richard C. Chambers, Sr., also a lawyer.  When I admitted the truth, the Judge then said, That means Al Farese was your grandfather?

The entire courtroom was sitting by idly wondering what we were discussing at the sidebar. The Judge could have cared less.  He asked me if I ever had a chance to watch my grandfather plying his trade in court?  When I said I hadn’t, the judge said, Well, you were probably trained by your father, who was trained by Al.  But anyway, I’ve got to tell you this story about Al Farese.

The judge said that when he was a green assistant District Attorney he talked his way into occupying the prosecution’s second chair in a murder trial because Al Farese was defending. Al had such a big reputation in the courts, the judge told me, that he wanted a chance to watch him up close.  People all over the State, including other lawyers, would come to watch his defense because he would always put on a show and often pulled all types of tricks and subterfuges to confuse witnesses or screw up the prosecution.  During his cross-examination of a witness in the case then on trial, Al did something that was objectionable and the chief prosecutor nudged the now-Judge Whitehead and told him to object.  Accordingly, he stood up and objected.

When he did, Judge Whitehead related, Al stopped in his tracks, turned, then faced the second-chair young prosecutor. Sit down, sonny! Al told him. I’ll tell you when to object! 

I was astonished.  I asked Judge Whitehead what was his reaction to Al’s order?  I sat down and shut up, he said.  After all, that was Al Farese giving the order.

During this exchange my opponent was standing there with her mouth agape.  Judge Whitehead finally noticed her and then asked us what was going on with the case.  We went back to our tables and told him on the record about the plea deal and then we went back and forth with our legal arguments.  The judge finally ruled that the minimum I proposed was more reasonable in his mind and that’s what the sentence was going to be.  Then, following my grandfather’s long-standing advice handed down to my father (If you don’t ask you don’t get) I asked the judge if he’d make an order that the sentence for my young first-offender client could be served in the county jail rather than the state prison.  Judge Whitehead agreed that he had that option and thought it an equitable idea in the instant case. And that was the exact order the judge handed down. That meant my client would only serve approximately half the three years, rather than the full term in an ominous state prison.

After the court session, my client’s Italian family was ecstatic with the result and hugged me profusely outside the courtroom.  I showed them my grandfather’s school ring and said that Al Farese, a paisano, was watching over me whenever I wore his ring. In fact, the day before all my trials I say the short prayer to St. Jude, as did my grandfather.

RCC (JR.)

Acknowledgments

The authors would like to thank Richard C. Chambers, Sr. for his assistance in providing several details about the subject of this biography, who, of course, was his father-in-law and with whom he worked with in the Farese Law Office for many years.

We also would like to thank Lance Hutchinson of the Boston College High School for providing the school photos, transcripts, and graduation material related to Alfred P. Farese, Sr.  He was instantly helpful and demonstrated more than a touch of class—no pun intended.

Finally, we thank Joshua Fraioli for his erudite technical assistance in putting together this book.

We acknowledge the Boston Globe newspaper, from which we reproduced most of the other photos related to Al P. Farese, Sr. and cases and clients that he worked on in his long career.  We purchased these photos through their archives.

1.

Al’s father and mother, Antonio and Adelina Farese, both were immigrants from the Avellino area of Italy, which is east of Naples.  They arrived together in the early 1900’s and eventually settled in Lynn, Massachusetts.

But Antonio’s immigration to the United States with Adelina wasn’t his first.  Before he had met and married Adelina in Italy he had immigrated to the U.S. by himself just before the turn of the Twentieth Century.  He found his way to Sommerville, Massachusetts and soon married a local woman.  They had a son together, Albert Farese (who would later have a prosperous life himself and father a family of nine children). 

Tragically, however, Antonio’s first wife died at a young age when Albert was still a small child.  Heartbroken and homesick, Antonio returned to Italy.  Several years later he and Adelina met and married, and they decided that their future was in the United States.

Antonio was by no means a poor immigrant.  He had owned properties in the Avellino area along with a few modest olive groves. (In later years, when Antonio’s sons inherited the properties in Italy, they returned to Avellino and deeded everything to the family still living in the Avellino area.)  Consequently, he had the means to build his own home in Lynn—especially since he also had experience as a mason/bricklayer.  Before long he and Adelina began their own family and produced two sons of their own, Alfred and John.

Antonio became a street banker in the Lynn area, loaning money right out of his pocket.  This was a common occupation back in the age of little or no regulations, and one didn’t need a brick-and-mortar bank building or office to make loans.  It was all done on a handshake.  Antonio did all this legitimately and had no connections to any mobsters of the time nor associated in any manner with the infamous loan sharks that would later emerge in the criminal world.  There were no threats ever made in his business nor any trouble surrounding the loans.