Ex-labor leader John Dougherty surrenders to begin serving his six-year prison term

For years, John Dougherty sat atop the worlds of organized labor and politics as the most powerful union leader in the state. But starting this week, he trades that distinction for another, less desirable, title: Federal Inmate No. 77031-066.

Dougherty, 64, turned himself in Tuesday at a federal correctional institution in Lewisburg, Pa., to begin serving his six-year sentence on bribery and embezzlement charges. His surrender, just before 2:30 p.m., followed a last-minute attempt to delay the start of his prison term, which was rejected Monday by a federal judge.

The usually loquacious labor leader did not respond to phone calls and text messages from reporters in the hours before his roughly three-hour drive from Philadelphia to the prison in Union County that will become his new home.

But when contacted last week to discuss his looming incarceration, Dougherty declined to be interviewed, saying, “I’m not a story anymore.”

That note of resignation marked a distinct shift from the confidence that defined Dougherty’s nearly three decades at the helm of his union, Local 98 of the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, and his years spent leading the Philadelphia Building Trades Council, an umbrella organization of labor groups.

» READ MORE: ‘I am guilty:’ John Dougherty’s stunning statements at sentencing delivered an about-face few had predicted

In those roles, Dougherty earned a reputation as a one-man force of nature in Philadelphia — a tireless advocate for union members and a political kingmaker who, with the backing of union money and manpower, helped elect allies to all levels of local, state, and federal government.

His convictions at two federal trials — the first in 2021 on charges he’d bribed former Philadelphia City Councilmember Bobby Henon for years, the second over nearly $600,000 he and others embezzled from the union — did seemingly little to damper his aplomb.

He has repeatedly predicted he’ll be vindicated on appeal, a process he began with initial filings before the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit earlier this month.

After all, as he boasted in a 2015 conversation with his brother, Supreme Court Justice Kevin Dougherty, that was caught on an FBI wiretap and later played for jurors at trial: “I got a different world than most people ever exist in.”

At FCI Lewisburg, though, Dougherty will be just another of the 425 inmates housed in the prison’s minimum-security satellite camp.

He’ll join Henon and former Local 98 president Brian Burrows — both of whom are also housed there serving sentences for their roles in Dougherty’s crimes.

As for the conditions he can expect, those who have preceded Dougherty at Lewisburg or at similar minimum-security prison camps have offered mixed reviews.

Chaka “Chip” Fattah Jr. — a self-styled mogul who, like his father, former Democratic Rep. Chaka Fattah, spent time in federal lockup — likened his stint at a camp in southeastern Michigan to living in an Old City loft.

“There are no cell doors,” Fattah Jr. told The Inquirer in 2017 while serving a five-year sentence for tax and bank fraud. “Think loft-style with a desk and two lockers and a bunk bed.”

There, he said, he spent his time reading magazines, taking economics courses, advising other inmates on their appeals, and exchanging postage stamps for pizza-like concoctions inmates made on tortillas they procured from the commissary.

He acknowledged, however, that the arrangement occasionally proved taxing.

“If I say the wrong thing or sit in the wrong seat in the TV room during Empire, that could lead to a fight,” Fattah said at the time. “There’s a lot of arguments here over things that seem trivial in the outside world.”

Former Philadelphia City Councilmember Rick Mariano — convicted in 2006 on bribery charges — served out part of his 6½-year sentence at Lewisburg, where he spent his days walking, attending classes, eating rice and beans, and doing a lot of electrical work.

The No. 1 rule there, he told WHYY in a 2021 interview: “Keep to yourself.”

He offered advice that could prove useful to Dougherty, too.

“As an elected official or any kind of politician, you want to be friendly to people. Big mistake in prison,” Mariano said. “Go to the chapel. Go to the gym. Don’t tell nobody your business and stay out of the nonsense.”

As Dougherty’s surrender date drew near, he repeatedly sought to delay it. Twice in recent months, he had persuaded a federal judge to postpone the start of his sentence, citing his wife’s ill health and his own recovery from recent surgery.

A similar request, filed Monday afternoon by Dougherty’s attorney Greg Pagano, was greeted with a chilly response.

“This is not the first time [Dougherty] has argued for delays in facing justice,” prosecutors had written in earlier filings, “and if he is allowed to remain free, it will not be the last.”

U.S. District Judge Jeffrey L. Schmehl replied with a one-line ruling, sealing the ex-union chief’s fate.

“It is hereby ORDERED,” it read, “that [Dougherty’s] motion is DENIED.”