May 19, 2000/14 Iyar 5760, Vol. 52, No.37
Defamation row
Hefty verdict sends message of responsibility

J.J. GOLDBERG
Special to Jewish News
Anti-Defamation League director Abe Foxman likes to tell stories about people he meets while traveling. They ask him what he does. He says he runs an agency that defends Jews. Their response, typically, is astonishment: "Really? Jews need defending?"
Foxman's point is that Jews are losing their underdog image as they win increasing acceptance in America.
This is one of those good news-bad news messages, particularly for the folks charged with wielding the machinery of Jewish power. It's easier than ever to throw your weight around, but harder to elicit sympathy.
That lesson came back to bite Foxman with a vengeance last month, when a federal jury in Denver delivered an unprecedented $10.5 million verdict against the Anti-Defamation League for, of all things, defamation.
The jury found that ADL's Mountain States chapter had defamed a non-Jewish couple, William and Dorothy Quigley, by unjustly accusing them of anti-Semitism.
The Quigleys were caught up in a backyard feud with Jewish neighbors, Mitchell and Candace Aronson, in the affluent Denver suburb of Evergreen. The Aronsons produced tapes of the Quigleys' private conversations, picked off a cordless phone by police scanner, containing what they called anti-Semitic threats. The ADL backed them up.
The jury decided the alleged threats sounded more like private venting. Thanks to the tapes, though, the ADL was also found guilty of violating the Quigleys' privacy.
Altogether, the jury levied $1.5 million in compensatory damages against the ADL - $1 million for William Quigley's suffering, $500,000 for Dorothy's - plus a whopping $9 million in punitive damages, to teach the league a lesson.
Curiously, no fines were levied against the Aronsons, who initiated the anti-Semitism charges and taped the conversations, nor against the Jefferson County district attorney, who charged the Quigleys with criminal ethnic intimidation before backing down and apologizing.
Both the Aronsons and the D.A.'s office, it seems, had long since settled with the Quigleys - the D.A. for $75,000, the Aronsons for a handshake.
ADL officials say they tried to settle too, but were rebuffed.
The Aronsons first approached the ADL in October 1994, complaining of anti-Semitic harassment. They had moved to Evergreen that summer and been befriended by the Quigleys. But the friendship soured fast, going from complaints about dogs to shouting matches over who trod on whose lawn.
In October things turned ugly when Candace Aronson claimed William Quigley tried to run her over. Soon after, Mitchell Aronson picked up the Quigleys' cordless phone on his police scanner, and overheard Dorothy Quigley complaining to a friend about Aronson's wife in language he considered anti-Semitic.
In late October the Aronsons brought their fears to ADL regional director Saul Rosenthal. They also went to District Attorney David Thomas, claiming they were victims of ethnic intimidation, a felony in Colorado.
In consultation with prosecutors, sheriff's deputies and ADL lawyers, the Aronsons proceeded to tape another 100 hours of phone calls. Nobody - not the Aronsons, not the ADL, not the sheriff's deputies nor the prosecutors - realized a new federal wiretap law had just taken effect, outlawing such surveillance.
In December the Aronsons filed a federal civil suit against the Quigleys. Three days later, Thomas filed criminal charges. In between the Aronsons appeared at a press conference with ADL's Rosenthal. He accused the Quigleys of waging "a vicious anti-Semitic campaign."
Then the case began to collapse. When the district attorney learned the tapes were illegal, he dropped his intimidation charges. In a public apology, he admitted the tapes showed no evidence of "anti-Semitic conduct or harassment."
Soon after, the Quigleys sued everyone involved for ruining their reputations.
A native New Yorker, Quigley had been chief financial officer at Paramount Pictures and president of Vestron Pictures, producing such movies as "Dirty Dancing" and John Huston's "The Dead." He moved to Denver in 1993 to head up United Artists' theater chain.
After the ADL called him an anti-Semite, Quigley alleged, he found himself shunned by his mostly Jewish friends and colleagues.
ADL officials insist they did nothing wrong. They're asking the judge to set aside the jury's verdict.
Privately, some ADL officials say they were hung out to dry when the Quigleys settled with everyone but them. Their accusations of anti-Semitism simply followed the district attorney's lead. They didn't listen to the tapes first, but neither did the D.A.
A few ADL staffers suggest they've been singled out because the league's deep pockets make it an irresistible target.
ADL officials don't say so, but there's something unsettling about the relish with which the jury punished the ADL, awarding triple the damages the Quigleys had asked. The judgment carries echoes of past crusades against the ADL, which often seemed less about correcting wrongdoing and more about cutting ADL - and the Jews - down to size.
In the end, though, the ADL rebroadcast an accusation of anti-Semitism before investigating. That's foolish. More disturbing, it attacked private citizens for opinions voiced at home among friends. That's chilling.
The case's most important lesson, though, is precisely the lesson the jury intended. The accusation of anti-Semitism is an awesome weapon, because of the public revulsion it generates. The power to lodge that accusation carries grave responsibilities.
In a world where Jews are as powerful as their enemies, the Jewish community is accountable for its actions. We're all on notice.