Tommy Tucker


Clinton Signing a Document

September, 1993.

Six months after the assassination of Doctor David Gunn.

I was sitting at my desk in the offices of the National Coalition of Abortion Providers, thinking about the memorial we were going to hold in Pensacola, Florida in March to commemorate the first anniversary of David’s brutal murder.  We had decided, with some trepidation, to have an open air event with our doctors and clinic staff at the site where David was killed earlier that year.

We knew it was going to be an extremely emotional and solemn event and those who had decided to go were clearly on edge.  I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic so I started thinking about something I could do to make this event one that they would never forget.  So, I picked up the phone and called a friend of mine who worked at the White House.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, I said “Betsy, we’re doing this event in March of next year and I think the President should send our folks a message of support.”  You could hear a pin drop.  You see, at that point it was clear that President Clinton was pro-choice but to ask him to actually acknowledge the work of abortion doctors was taking things to a whole new level.   No president had ever even mentioned the doctors and staff who worked in our clinics.  It was the same old story:  you could say you were pro-choice but no politician would actually talk about abortion, especially the President.  So, I knew I was pushing the envelope.

“Are you out of your mind?” she asked.

I then went on for another few minutes and, at the end of the conversation she said “let me see what I can do.”

The conversations went on for weeks but to me the good news was that they were still going on.  By December, no one in the White House chain had said “no.”  Then, in early January, Betsy called me and said “I still cannot promise anything, we’re going back and forth on this but why don’t you draft something up for us?’  Within two hours I had drafted a letter from President Bill Clinton praising the doctors and staff for the work they performed.  I gulped and faxed it over to her.

Several more weeks went by and I heard nothing.  By now, the details of the event were all set.  We planned on having the outdoor ceremony at the site of David’s murder and, after some remarks by staff people who worked for David Gunn, I would give a speech.  It was my hope to start it off by reading this first of its kind letter from the President of the United States.

A few days before we were going to fly to Pensacola, I still hadn’t heard anything.  I kept calling and getting no response.  I figured it was done.  Then, the day before my flight Betsy called me. “We’re talking to him today about it.”   HIM?  As in the President?   Yep, she said casually.  My heart was in my throat.  And then I didn’t hear from her the rest of the day.

The next day my flight was scheduled to leave at 2:00 p.m.  At 10:30 Betsy called me and said “he approved the letter.”  I seriously had tears in my eyes when I asked her when it would get to the office.  “We just sent it by courier.”  Literally about 30 minutes before I had to leave, the letter in a White House envelope was in my hands and it stayed with me all the way down to Pensacola.

On the day of the event, as about 100 abortion providers sat outside in the Pensacola sun, I opened up the ceremony and announced that I “had a letter from a friend.”   Without identifying who the letter was from (no one was in on the secret except my staff), I started reading the letter which congratulated “those of you who offer abortion services to thousands and thousands of women each year.”  One person later told me that she thought I was going to announce that the letter was from some “lame pro-choice congressman.”

Then, towards the end of this wonderful letter, I read the last paragraph which started “So, Hillary and I want to extend to you…”  I could barely get the words out and the crowd collectively gasped.  I have the tape of this event you can hear one person say out loud “Holy Shit!”  I could see people actually crying as I (barely) finished the letter.

The President of the United States had finally recognized them.  In the years that followed, the President used other occasions to congratulate our group but by then it was “old hat.”  It was getting him to do it for the first time that took all the work – and it was worth it.

Today, the letter hangs on my wall.

Abortion

Abortion

The first time I met Doctor Tommy Tucker he was sitting at a slot machine in a casino in Puerto Rico.  I had talked to Tucker over the phone a few times, knew that he performed abortions in Alabama and Mississippi and could tell he was quite the character.  We were in Puerto Rico at the invitation of a large pharmaceutical company that had flown about 100 doctors to this exotic locale to try to convince them to prescribe the company’s birth control pills.  I was invited because I represented those doctors.  Tommy and I hit it off right away and he invited me to visit him in the south when possible.

Several months later, the anti-abortion group Operation Rescue announced they would be “Marching to the Gates of Hell” to shut down Tucker’s clinic in Alabama.   So, I decided to fly down to give him and his staff moral support.

When I arrived at the clinic, there were several hundred protestors swarming all over the street, blocking traffic.  The police were clearly overwhelmed and, worse, didn’t seem to care that things had gotten out of hand.  I walked through the crowd into the clinic, which included a number of pro-choice escorts who were bringing in patients, and saw Tucker in the reception area.  We chatted for a while then at one point he got up and walked over to the cash register.  He dipped his hands into it, pulled out a stack of cash and handed it to the receptionist, telling her to “go out and buy some pizzas for the escorts.”   While it was well-intentioned, I was uncomfortable with Tucker’s actions because I knew that that income would go unreported.

The next night, he took me downtown to some sleazy gambling joint.  As we walked in, he pulled out a stack of one hundred dollar bills wrapped tightly in a rubber band.  He pulled out a handful and gave them to me, telling me to “knock yourself out.”   I counted the money with my sweaty palms and it added up to $1,400.  I didn’t’ spend any of it and gave it back to him at the end of the night.

At about 1:00 a.m., we left to head for our hotel.  Suddenly, Tucker, who was driving and was pretty drunk, groaned that we were “being followed.”  I looked back and right behind us on a quiet dusty back road were three cars.  Tucker accelerated and got back to a four lane highway.  We were easily going 90 miles an hour at this point, but one of their cars actually pulled up beside us and a guy in the back seat rolled down his window, stuck his finger out and aimed it at us, as if he were shooting a gun.  Ultimately, we skidded into our hotel parking lot and they disappeared.

The next morning, we got into our car to leave but all of a sudden the same cars emerged and blocked us into our parking space.  We could not move.  Tucker was totally cool, while I was freaking out.  He said he had to go back to the hotel and call the police (no cell phones in those days) but before he got out he reached into his glove compartment and handed me a revolver.  “Here, use this if you need it.”   I asked if the gun was loaded and he replied “shit, yeah, what the hell would I do with an unloaded weapon?”   I put the gun back, not wanting any part of it.

The police ultimately arrived about an hour later and they were clearly not thrilled at the prospect of having to help this well known “abortionist.”  They just chatted it up with the good ole boys who were blocking us in and, after another hour, the group left.

When we got to the clinic, he had to walk through a gauntlet of hundreds of screaming, angry protestors but he was calm all the way in.  I asked him how he did this and he just shrugged.

I always had a sense that Tucker was trouble.  He was clearly a risk taker, living on the edge.  I always saw him as the “abortionist” as characterized by the anti-abortion movement.  But I couldn’t prove anything because I was not there in his clinic on a daily basis.   Also, he was the only doctor in those two states who performed abortions.  He was a “circuit rider” who went from clinic to clinic helping women.  I just decided to ignore him.

Eventually, things caught up to him.  I learned he had drug issues and possible connections to the mob.  Then, his license was restricted because of accusations of “gross malpractice or repeated malpractice in the practice of medicine.”  He was placed under voluntary restrictions when he was charged with underestimating the fetal age in two women and for perforating another woman’s uterus.  He ultimately faced charges of unprofessional and unethical conduct in Alabama and Mississippi prompted by the deaths of several patients, one of whom was 21 year old Michelle Jordan, who died after Tucker attempted to remove Norplant from her arm.

I heard that because of all the legal issues, he had gone virtually bankrupt.

Then, he just disappeared – and to this day I have no idea whatever happened to Tommy Tucker.