Seattle's Scuffler

Born in Bohemia 35 years ago, Marion Anthony Zioncheck was brought to Seattle as a child, grew up to be a fish peddler. He went to the University of Washington Law School, got himself elected president of the student body, behaved so obstreperously that fellow students clipped his pate, dumped him in Lake Washington. Marion Zioncheck began his legal career by being fined $25 for contempt of court after calling a witness a "scab." Later he successfully defended his mother on kidnapping charges. In 1932 Lawyer Zioncheck persuaded the Democratic voters of Washington's First Congressional District to send him to Washington. By last week Representative Zioncheck had piled up such a record of outlandish behavior both on & off the House floor that even Congressmen who like a little eccentricity to liven the legislative atmosphere had begun to regard him as the Capitol's No. 1 problem child.

This strange young man first distinguished himself from his 434 colleagues on the tail end of last New Year's Eve. Entering a Washington apartment house, he shouldered the Negro switchboard operator aside, merrily plugged in every telephone in the building. Four husky policemen testified in court that Representative Zioncheck was so drunk that they had had to support him when they removed him from the building. Convicted of drunken & disorderly conduct, he took a copy of the court proceedings to the House, asked unanimous consent to have them printed in the Congressional Record. "I think," declared the indignant gentleman from Washington, "you members of the House should know what is going on."

In February Representative Zioncheck shocked colleagues by asserting in the House that U. S. Supreme Court Justices were mostly "minions of wealth," that four or five of them were "old fossils." Next day he made news again when Texas' blatant Blanton called his arguments "asinine" and he stopped House proceedings to ask Speaker Byrns: "What does 'asinine' mean? I forget."

Last month Marion Zioncheck almost started a fist fight on the House floor when he clashed again with Representative Blanton. "The gentleman from Texas once said I was doped," he roared. "And I shall put it into the record that the gentleman from Texas is a son of a Texan. On second thought I'll revise my remark and leave a blank for the final word." Representative Blanton charged at him, was subdued by colleagues. Few days later the Representative from Washington took up his feud once more. This time the House soundly rebuked him by voting 274-to-0 to expunge his remarks from the record.

Short time ago this high-spirited young Congressman bought himself a new Packard roadster, proceeded to make Washington streets unsafe for pedestrians by speeding, roaring past traffic lights, driving on the left. Early one morning last fortnight police spied him whizzing out Connecticut Avenue at 70 m. p. h., gave chase, caught him when he was forced to slow down for a truck. At the police station Representative Zioncheck posted $25 collateral. He later denied to reporters that he had been arrested, next day was "not in" at either home or office. Last week, when he failed to appear in court to answer the speeding charge, Judge Walter J. Casey promptly issued an order for his arrest. In the House Office Building the Washington Representative gabbled to reporters about Congressional immunity, snorted that Judge Casey could "go to hell." When a police sergeant appeared to arrest him, he told the officer that his writ could not be served on Federal property. Then Zioncheck abruptly changed his mind, got in his roadster with the sergeant, whizzed away toward court. After a few blocks Representative Zioncheck swung his car around without warning, roared back to the House Office Building, leaped out, ran up the steps. The sergeant gave chase, begged him to "act like a gentleman." "Take off your glasses and draw your gun," cried Marion Zioncheck. In the ensuing scuffle the sergeant suffered a sprained finger, facial bruises. Capitol police joined the fray, helped hustle Representative Zioncheck into the guard room. Swearing he would sue the police department for false arrest, he finally agreed to go to court. With the courtroom jammed, Representative Zioncheck, acting as his own attorney, pleaded guilty to the speeding charge but insisted that he had not been properly notified when or where to appear for trial. Judge Casey withdrew to his chambers to consider this contention. "Just a minute," Zioncheck yelped. "What about my case?" "The court is recessing," said Judge Casey.

"I'm taking a recess too," shouted Zioncheck, breaking for the door. Policemen collared him, threw him into the pen. Judge Casey, reappearing, slapped on fines of $25 for speeding, $20 for contempt of court. For two hours Representative Zioncheck posed for photographers making faces, clambering up the bars, poking out his hat to beg for money for his fines. Loudly he declared that he would not pay a cent. Loudly he demanded that Speaker Byrns get him out of jail on grounds of Congressional immunity. At the Capitol, Democratic leaders put their heads together, quickly decided that fighting with policemen, speeding and contempt of court constituted a breach of the peace--one constitutional ground for a Congressman's arrest. After much argument behind closed doors, Rules Committee Chairman John J. O'Connor was told off to go and pay the fines. Out the court building's back door soon slipped the two Congressmen. To newshawks Representative Zioncheck announced that he was going back to his apartment to look after his four pet terrapins. Representative O'Connor suggested that he might do better to consult a psychiatrist.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.