One morning a great Judge, who had been promoted to the Bench because
he could not connect as a Lawyer, climbed up on his Perch and directed
the Lord High Sheriff to feed him a few Defendants.
"We have rounded up a tough bunch of Ginks," said the Attorney for the
Commonwealth. "I shall ask your Honor to Soak them good and proper."
The first to be led in was a grinning Imp with a wide Mouth, large
Freckles and flapping Ears.
It was proven that he stuck Pins into his Grandmother and blew up
Elderly Gentlemen with Cannon Crackers and set fire to Houses and was
a hard Nut in general. The Prosecutor suggested a Dungeon with Bread
and Water.
Up spoke the Prisoner as follows: "I defy you to lay a Hand on me. I
am the Stand-By of the Comic Artist and the Star Attraction of the
Colored Supplement. When I pull the Step-Ladder from under some
Honest Workingman, causing him to break his Leg, or hit a Stout Lady in
the Eye with a Brick, please remember that I am bringing Sunshine into
thousands of Homes. As I go on my way, committing Arson, Mayhem, and
Assault, with Intent to Kill, I am greeted by Peals of Childish
Laughter. When you put me out of Business, you will be handing the
Circulation an awful Wallop. I am not a Criminal; I am an Institution."
"I remember you very well," said the Judge. "You are my Excuse for
buying the Paper. While the Kids are busy with you, I look up Packey
McFarland and One-Round Hogan."
Just as the Celebrated Juvenile hit the Fresh Air the second Defendant
came into The Dock, taking long sneaky Strides and undulating like a
Roller Coaster. She was a tall Gal and very Pale, with Belladonna
Optics and her Hair shook out and a fine rhythmical Bellows Movement
above the Belt Line.
"She is a raving Beetle," explained the Prosecutor. "She wants to go
out doors every Night and count the Moon and pull some of that shine
Magazine Poetry. Every time she sees anybody named Eric or Geoffrey
she does a Swoon, accompanied by the customary Low Cry, and later on,
in her own Boudoir, which is Richly Furnished, she bursts into a
Torrent of Weeping. If you start her on a Conversation about Griddle
Cakes she will wind up by giving a Diagnosis of Soul-Hunger. She is
a Candidate for Padded Cell No. 1 in the big Foolish House. If she
continues at Large she may accidentally marry some poor misguided
Clarence, and then, if there are any Children, the Neighbors will
have to take care of them."
"Do you not recognize me?" asked the Prisoner in low musical Tones,
fixing a passionate Gaze on the Court. "I am the Heroine of a Best
Seller. If I did not have these large Porcelain Orbs and the Bosom
heaving in Rag Time and the Hair swirling in Glorious Profusion, do you
suppose that a Member of the Upsilon Pajama Sorority would sit up
until 1 A. M. with Me and a Bottle of Queen Olives and a Box of Chocs?
If I made up like an ordinary Sadie and talked Straight Stuff, do you
think I could last through Ten Editions? I may not be Human, but I
can raise the Temperature of every Flathead from Bangor to San Antone."
"You are dead right," said the Court. "We couldn't keep house without
you."
So she proceeded to exit, sneeringly, her Garments rustling and a faint
Aroma of Violets lingering in her Wake, just as it does in the Red Book
that sells for $1.50.
The next Prisoner was a big handsome Buck with his Clothes recently
pressed and many Gloves.
"I want a Life Sentence for this Guy," said the learned Prosecutor.
"He is so crooked that a Straight Edge would cut him in a thousand
places. He would bite an Ear-Ring off of a Debutante or blow open a
Family Vault to unscrew the Handles from the Casket containing Father.
He promotes phoney Corporations and sells Florida Orange Groves that
have Crocodiles swimming around on top of them. He is a prize Bunk,
a two-handed Grafter, a Short-Change Artist and a Broadway Wolf. Slip
him the Limit."
"You've got me wrong, Steve," said the Prisoner, softly. "I used to be
a Depraved Character, but now I am the Big Hero. Under the revised
Code of Morals a Handy Boy who goes out and trims a Boob for everything
in his Kick becomes recognized as a Comedy Hit and every Seat on the
Lower Floor goes for two Bones. Instead of doing a Lock-Step to and
from the Broom Factory, I work up to a Dress Suit Finish and marry the
Swell Dame. And the Mob is with me. If it came to a Straw Vote
between me and Lyman Abbott, I would win by a City Block."
"The Gentleman speaks the Truth," said the Court. "In this Fair Land
we forgive a Man anything if his Work has Class. Instead of committing
you to the Pen, I shall arrange to spend the Evening with you."
The next was a tall snaky Female with black Beads all over her Person
and she was smoking a Cigarette, half closing her Eyes as she blew
Rings toward the Ceiling.
"Judge, she is some Brazen Hussey, believe me," said the Prosecutor.
"After turning Flip-Flops around the Ten Commandments for fifteen years
she married a Good Man and put him on the Fritz. Her regular Job is to
loll on a Divan and turn the Coaxing Eye on some poor Geezer who is
wandering from Drawing Room to Drawing Room, trying to have his Life
wrecked. Please send her up. She is a Menace to Respectable Society."
The Prisoner looked at him in haughty Disdain.
"I am not a Low Woman," she said, proudly. "I am a Matinee Favorite.
The Best People in our City hang their Chins over the Seats in front
and cry softly whenever I get into Trouble. Don't lock me up or they
will be lonesome."
"Go, woman, and keep on Sinning," said the Court, in a kind Voice.
Then, turning to the Defender of the General Good, he said. "You are
two years behind the Procession. Hereafter arrest only Business Men
who have been Successful."
MORAL: Criminality is merely a Side-Issue.