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Colorful, Long-Serving La. Sheriff Lee Dies at 75

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Colorful, Long-Serving La. Sheriff Lee Dies at 75


Colorful, Long-Serving La. Sheriff Lee Dies at 75

Colorful, Long-Serving La. Sheriff Lee Dies at 75

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Harry Lee, the flamboyant sheriff of Jefferson Parish, La., died after a battle with leukemia. He was in his 27th year in office. He claimed to be the only Chinese-American sheriff in America. He was 75.


The sheriff of Jefferson Parish, Louisiana died yesterday after a battle with leukemia during his 27th year in office. Harry Lee was 75 years old. Now, the passing of a southern sheriff would not normally be national news, but there was no one quite like Harry Lee.

Here's NPR's John Burnett.

JOHN BURNETT: Harry Lee defied categories, and Jefferson Parish loved him for it, electing him to seven terms by huge margins that other politicians can only dream of. He claimed to be the only Chinese-American sheriff in America and often bragged about his roots, born to Chinese immigrants in the back of a laundry on Carondelet Street in New Orleans.

In his long career in law enforcement, Lee counted felons and mobsters as friends, and when challenged, he retorted...

Sheriff HARRY LEE (Jefferson Parish, Louisiana): My friends are my friends and the hell with everybody else.

BURNETT: Harry Lee famously loved to eat. At 300 pounds, he cut an unforgettable Falstaffian figure, riding in Mardi Gras parades and cowboy regalia, throwing trinkets to the crowd. He turned his battle with obesity into a running joke, such as this TV's spot from his brief campaign for governor in 1995.

(Soundbite of ad)

Sheriff LEE: I've lost 70 pounds and now I'm running for governor. I'm going to fight crime and make Louisiana safe, just like I have at Jefferson Parish.

Unidentified Woman: Harry, dinner.

Sheriff LEE: I'll be right back.

BURNETT: Lee lost interest in being governor because nothing to his thinking could compare with being the sheriff of Jefferson Parish, which he likened to being king. The flamboyant white-haired sheriff was interviewed last October inside his fortress-like headquarters in a large office filled with antique guns and carved duck decoys.

Sheriff LEE: I have no unions. I don't have civil service. I hire and fire at will, and I set (unintelligible) salary at will. I'm a one man vote. I'm the head of the law enforcement district and the law enforcement district only has one vote, which is me.

BURNETT: Lee began his political career as driver and aide to his mentor, the late Congressman Hale Boggs. For decades, Lee ran one of the last great political machines in South Louisiana. Some citizens were afraid to cross him. If his deputies wanted to advance, they were required to sell tickets to his annual hundred-dollar-a-seat birthday bash, the money going into a political and charitable slush fund.

But parish residents generally praised Lee's operation, which boasted quick response times, a low crime rate, and a high felony arrest rate. Outside of his parish, however, Harry Lee was largely known for racial controversies. He repeatedly made national news when he ordered his deputies to round up and question suspicious-looking black men because they might be criminals.

On these occasions, Lee would cringe at the harsh publicity, but his popularity among his largely white constituency would invariably spike, said his longtime friend, state appeals court Judge Marion Edwards.

Judge MARION EDWARDS (Fifth Circuit, Court of Appeals, Louisiana): Things that would be devastating to some elected officials, people say, oh, that's just Harry.

BURNETT: Several black leaders in Jefferson Parish interviewed for an NPR profile last year said they didn't truly think Lee was racist, but he tended to shoot off his mouth and think about it later. The sheriff agreed.

Sheriff LEE: I just say whatever I feel and sometimes some of the things I say have been misinterpreted, and I've earned a reputation of being a racist because I say things that other people won't say.

BURNETT: Harry Lee kept his pledge to die in office. Recently, he filed to run for his eighth term as sheriff from the hospital where he was undergoing chemotherapy in Houston. In May, as his health failed, a group of black ministers, who'd been longtime critics of the sheriff, gathered at his office to pray for his healing.

When we were done, one told the Times-Picayune, there were tears in his eyes.

John Burnett, NPR News.

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Larger-Than-Life Sheriff Rules Louisiana Parish

Larger-Than-Life Sheriff Rules Louisiana Parish

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Harry Lee, the outspoken and flamboyant Chinese-American sheriff of Louisiana's Jefferson Parish, has been a lightning rod for controversy during his 26 years in office. Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Office hide caption

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Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Office

Harry Lee appears with former Rep. Lindy Boggs in Lafitte, La. Her late husband, former House Majority Leader Hale Boggs, was Lee's mentor. Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Office hide caption

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Jefferson Parish Sheriff's Office

A papier-mache model of Lee's face was a decoration at his recent birthday bash, an annual event known as the Chinese Cajun Cowboy Fais Do Do. John Burnett, NPR hide caption

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John Burnett, NPR

There's nobody quite like Harry Lee.

He's the flamboyant and outspoken sheriff of Louisiana's Jefferson Parish, a sprawling suburb that borders New Orleans. The Chinese-American lawman, now in his seventh term in office, has a penchant for putting his foot in his mouth, but it only seems to increase his popularity.

The 74-year-old, 300-pound sheriff — down from 400 pounds, he proudly points out — sits at his desk surrounded by his large gun collection.

"I'm still as full of piss and vinegar as I was 20 years ago," he says.

For 26 years, Lee has been the top cop and chief taxing authority of the booming jurisdiction of nearly half a million people, and because of peculiar state law, there's little oversight.

"The sheriff of [Jefferson Parish] is the closest thing there is to being a king in the U.S. I have no unions, I don't have civil service, I hire and fire at will. I don't have to go to council and propose a budget. I approve the budget. I'm the head of the law-enforcement district, and the law-enforcement district only has one vote, which is me," he says.

Columnist James Gill of the Times-Picayune in New Orleans has written often over the years about the sheriff.

"He's a great character, everyone likes him. Some people fear him. He can be sheriff of Jefferson Parish for as long as he wants. Harry Lee has always been a law unto himself," Gill says.

Lee is a former restaurant and tavern owner, former federal magistrate, and former protege of the late U.S. House Majority Leader Hale Boggs. In Jefferson Parish, Lee is well known for his personal Mardi Gras float; outside the parish, he's famous for his mouth.

Twenty years ago, after a rash of robberies by black men of white residents in their driveways, Lee vowed to stop and question blacks driving "rinky-dink cars" in white neighborhoods. The NAACP called on him to resign. Lee called a press conference the next day and said his plan was a mistake.

Late last month, it happened again. An offhand comment to a TV reporter created a new controversy.

"We know the crime is in the black community. Why should I waste time in the white community?" Lee was quoted as saying.

Since Hurricane Katrina, murders in Jefferson Parish have doubled, the majority of them black-on-black killings. The sheriff tried, in vain, to explain his intended get-tough tactics the next day at a press conference inside his gray, fortress-like headquarters.

"We know where the problem areas are. If we see some black guys on the corner milling around, we would confront them," he said.

The president of the regional NAACP, Donatus King, wasn't buying it.

"Confronting a group of black people on the street corner merely because they're black and milling around is a form of racial profiling. The NAACP opposes that tactic," King said.

Under pressure, the sheriff said his deputies would not be indiscriminately frisking African-American males.

A few days later, the Times-Picayune ran an unscientific poll. The phone calls ran 22 for the NAACP, 789 for Harry Lee.

More recently, Lee says he wants to patrol dangerous neighborhoods in armored vehicles.

Jefferson Parish is overwhelmingly white. In 1989, the parish elected David Duke — the former Ku Klux Klan leader — to be its state representative.

Lee is lauded for keeping crime low, which means, to most people, keeping black criminals under control, says columnist James Gill, who lives in the parish.

"This parish grew largely as a result of white flight, and it retains some of that feel of the 1950s today in its attitudes," Gill says. "And Harry's popularity depends, to some extent, on the perception that he is a white man's champion, he is holding back the black hordes that might otherwise threaten suburban bliss."

From a distance, it's tempting to pigeonhole Harry Lee as a racist Southern sheriff. But up close, he's more complex.

Angela St. Hill is an African-American resident of Jefferson Parish. As a lay worker on social justice issues with her Catholic church, she's worked with Harry Lee. She says that although he may sound racist at times, Lee has a good reputation of trying to solve problems in the black community.

"The African-American community knows that most of the time, he's doing the right things for right reasons, even though his words may not show that," St. Hill says.

"Unfortunately, I think he talks a lot before he thinks about what he's saying."

Harry Lee — the son of Lee and Yip Shee Bing, owners of a New Orleans laundry — shrugs off the criticism.

"It's more difficult for somebody to accuse me of being a racist, when you figure I was born in the back room of a Chinese laundry. When I was a kid, I was called a 'chink,'" he says.

Today, Lee has perhaps the highest approval ratings of any politician in the state. Every year, he throws a birthday party for himself at the Hilton Riverside Hotel in downtown New Orleans. Now that former Gov. Edwin Edwards is in prison, Lee's Chinese Cajun Cowboy Fais Do Do is the last great political party in Louisiana.

Five-thousand people pay $100 each to listen to two bands, drink prodigiously, and gorge on gumbo and egg rolls. Lee raises several hundred-thousand dollars, with which he funds his re-election campaigns, and gives the rest to charity.

And in the ballroom entrance: a huge papier-mache head in the likeness of the sheriff, surrounded by piles of fortune cookies.