Out of Court

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 28, 3 February 1939, Page 15

Out of Court

By Clifford Webb

Short Story

TI would appear to be only a remote ' connection between my first pair of lojig trousers and a dramatic appearance at a murder trial—yet the two are linked closely enough, as you will see. I was a kuiekerbockered boy of 14 when I joined* a provincial evening paper as an "editorial messenger," my nmiu job being to run around to the local police and coroner's Courts and collect the "copy" from the reporters. . Imagine the feeling of importance that paired out of inv chest when, after about a year of this, I was told that' a week, lience, I would have to travel, with the paper's star reporter, to an Assize town some HO miles distant to telephone the story of a murder trial that had gripped the imagination of the .public. 1 mentioned this, casually, to the local Police Court usher, with whom I had •become friendly,' and; luv .rather damped my ardour iby suggesting that unless I wore long trousers it, was unlikely that X should be permitted; to enter the Assize Court. "Actually," lie said, "I am breaking tlnj law in allowing you to come here, because you arc not- yet 10. Take my tip, and get your mother to 'buy you some long trousers if you want to avoid trouble." My pic *. nt home that I should lose my job it" I didn't get the trousers did the trick and a full six months before it was intended I should achieve the dignity of man-size pants I was swaggering around in a pair of flannels that fitted best under the arms. -'] The great day dawned, and, seated uncomfortably in the back of one of my newspaper's, delivery vans, but feeling mighty important, I set off for the trial. I fixed up the exclusive use of a telephone in a confectioner's shop about 50 yards from the entrance to the Court, watched with awe the traditional pageantry of the judge •being trumpeted in, and generally lived in a self-made atmosphero of tense excitement for the next few days while the trial went on. I was right on top of the world when, niid-wav through the proceedings, the leading'counsel for the 'prosecution, who afterwards became a 'judge, came into the -billiard room of the local hotel one evening as I was pottering about with the snooker balls and suggested that we should play a frame. Playing snooker with oue of the central figures in the great drama that was on everybody's lipsl Did any boy ever soar to* such heavenly bliss! Came the day of the judge's summing up. Having put through my first call, I was told to. hold ,the line. The editor wanted to talk to me. He was kindly and tactfuL I had done my job excellently, he said. There was no complaint. But—L-must be ~on my toes to-day. "We want that went on, "the minute it is pronounced: When the jury goes out, call us and leave the lino open. Get somebody to talk on it, if you like. That wilt ensure the line being kept open. . "But remember, every second counts. We want that verdict before the 'Times' (our local rivals) and it is up to you to see that we get it." And that is -where I began tq get smart/ So that was it. I had to beat the "Times" with -the verdict. Well, I would show 'em. . The court was an old. old Tjuildiiig, full of queer twists and turns and containing so many corridors that it was quite easy to lose one's self. Oue of these corridors ran almost direct from the entrance, behind the double doors which guarded the judge's chair to the Press seats. I was alwaj's fortunate in making friends with ushers and had been allowed to use this corridor to expedite my entrance and exit> so long as X walked on my toes and made no sound. My big idea was not long in taking shape. I decided that when the jury retired, I would slip out of the Press seats and hang around tlie entrance until they returned. I should know whorl they would be coming back, because the judge's retiring room was across the entrance liall and I would be able to see him cross the floor to take his seat and receive the jury's verdict. : The whole thing began to work smoothly. The jury retired. I dashed across to the confectioner's, put in my call, and got the proprietor of. the shop' to hang on to the line and talk'a lot of nonsense to ensure the connection remaining open. '* . i Then .I . went back to the entrance hall and wajted. The jury returned. Inhere was' a bustle and a flurry, and soon, in all the glory of his court regalia, the judge crossed the hall to return to his seat.

I followed as closely as I could, but instead of going right through to the Press seats, I slunk into a dark shadow of the corridor and waited until the coast was clear.

Then I cr.ept forward and put my ears to the double doorg, which were immediately behind the judge's scat, and through which I could hear every word spoken in court quite plainly. I worked it out that my rival telephonists would not be allowed to leave the court until the proceedings ha<l closed, and that this would be some minutes after the actual announces, ment of the verdict.

I was already half way out. As soon as I heard the verdict I could rush to the telephone arid get a. "beat" of probably ten minutes. ' ' So far so good. I crouched behind the doors, scarcely daring to breathe. The jury filed back. I could see them through the craclc between the doors; I pressed .forward ... The doors opened inwards. X lost my balance, and before I could stop myself I was half way through the doors, almost touching' the judge's rod-cloaked back! MOl; I". TO COME omiatti tea'wlth has

In an agonisingly long half-second I took in the picture of the foreman of the jury, standing open-mouthed, just about to deliver his verdict,, but shocked to speechlessness by the tousle-hcaded apparition that suddenly appeared behind tlie judge.

"Pushed Into a small room ... I could have cried." I saw the strained, white face of tlie mail in the dock take 011 a look of frank amazement as lie caught my eve. Jiu4 two strong arms were gripping my shoulders. A voice hissed,-. "Come out of that!" Tile judge never moved. Xot the slightest turning of his head betrayed that he knew.what was going 011 behind him.

I tremblingly gasped an apology to the usher, who pulled me bodily through the doors and half carried mc down the corridor.

"I don't care what you were going to telephone, or if you miss a hundred editions," he thundered when we were safely out of the hearing of the Court.

"This is going to mean trouble. In there—you." And 1 was pushed into a small room on which the door was locked.

It was a few minutes before it dawned on me that I was not alone in the room. A. woman and a small girl, both of whom had obviously been weeping, looked at me curiously, but neither said a word.

Suddenly the door of the room was unlocked and in walked the man whom I had seen in the dock less than a quarter of an hour previously. He had been acquitted.

The woman was his wife, the girl his daughter. In the general excitement everybody appeared to have ? forgotten about me. .

•I sat there, curiosity overcoming my embarrassment, while ' a touching reunion took place. I heard plans made for the futurCi I heard the woman's story of how she had lived through hell while the trial had been ill progress. How she had walked, with the child, several miles to the Court each day.

Nobody took the slightest notice of me. And It gradually dawned on my bewildered brain that I was "in" on a perfect whale of a human story. Then the door opened. The usher spotted me. "Come oiil Hop it you! And let it be a lesson I hopped it. Fortunately for mc, the reporter had seen what happened and had phoned the verdict himself. We didn't get ft "beat," but at least the news was in our office at the same time as it reached the headquarters of our rivals.

My eye-witness account of the family reunion, written up by the reporter, made a. front page half-column which 1 still keep among my cuttings, I often marvel now at the composure of the judge who didn't move a hair while the silence was shattered behind him by somebody who, for all he knew, might have been making an attempt on his life. ■