SHADY ATTORNEY KNEW A GOOD DEAL

On our journey through Portland's sinful '70s we've already met
ex-boxer Willie Nelson: convicted rapist, thug, dealer in controlled
substances, you name it.

Even now, some years after he was shot to death over an unpaid heroin
debt - they got him in his house on Interstate late one night,
strapped upside down to his sit-up board - it's hard to find anyone
who has a nice word to say about him.

So why, you might ask, would Willie be seen so frequently hanging out
at the law office of one George DesBrisay at 1123 S.W. Yamhill?

One reason, of course, is that Willie, as a habitual criminal,
undoubtedly needed legal assistance from time to time - and among
other things, George was a defense attorney.

Another reason, according to a lawyer who once worked with George as
well as numerous members of the underworld, is that George and Willie
had a little business together out on 122nd - a massage parlor called
Sultan's Harem.

Of course, George wasn't the owner on record, but everyone knew who
the brains of the operation was, and it sure wasn't Willie.

There was even some talk - actually, a lot of it in certain circles -
that the massage parlor was a laundry for profits from the heroin business.

In 1977, in fact, the feds actually prosecuted George for allegedly
failing to pay his fair share of income tax. "The government thought
he was a drug dealer," says a lawyer who knew him well.

As the lawyer recalls, the prosecution actually brought the subject
up in court, but didn't get very far before the judge cut in: "Now,
I've known George for a long time now, and I don't want to hear any
more talk like that."

Besides, as everyone knows, thinking something is not the same as
proving it. And whatever you may have suspected about George
DesBrisay, the fact remains that aside from his federal conviction on
the tax charges and the subsequent loss of his license to practice
law, his record is virtually spotless.

A former longshoreman who worked his way through law school, George
DesBrisay is surely one of Portland's more colorful characters in
recent times. He was a short, powerful man with a jagged scar running
from the right corner of his mouth to his ear, and it is said that
women found his brash charm irresistible.

According to most accounts, he was also a skillful lawyer. However,
as he told one junior associate, who he tried to persuade to take
over his entire caseload, he didn't particularly like trying cases in court.

What he preferred, he explained, was raising money. It worked like
this, he said:

As a lawyer, at one time associated with one of Portland's fancier
law firms, he hobnobbed with the elite of Portland's business
community, and it was no problem to get them to invest - say, at
$25,000 a shot - in certain business deals.

"I've got four deals in the works," he'd tell them. "If just one of
them comes through, you double your money. If two of them do, you
triple it. Four, you quadruple."

And you know, he told the young associate with a wink, not once did
anyone ever ask what they were investing in.

But then, with profits like those, why would they?