The Man in Court Part 6

"Why," he said, "I was sitting around all day worryin' about my lost working day. If I'd known I was getting two dollars for doing nothing I might have been enjoying myself."

The clerk puts his hand into the wooden wheel after the names have been well mixed and draws out one card after another, calling the names aloud until twelve jurors have been called to the box.

To the entirely new spectator there is a certain mystification about this drawing of the jury from the wooden drum with the handle for turning. To the initiated it may seem rather humorous, like the shuffling of the cards of justice, the drawing from a hat, or the turning of a roulette wheel. It is, however, significant of one of the great principles of Anglo-Saxon law, and that is a trial by a court of average men selected from among the ordinary citizens and drawn on the particular case by chance.

As each juror's name is called he comes forward and his appearance is not lost by counsel. He takes his seat in the box, the juror being first called is known as Juror No. 1, and by this chance, if he remain in the box, he ordinarily becomes the foreman of the jury. In cases of special juries, as of the Grand Jury, the foreman is chosen by selection. The successive jurors are respectively numbered according to their seats beginning from right to left facing them. Here it may be noted that some lawyers in addressing questions to the individual jurors are careful to remember to call them by name, realizing that no one likes to be known by a number. Instead of referring to him as Juror No. 7 or No. 9, he addresses him as Mr. Sullivan or Mr.

Schmittberger.

The twelve men being in the box the counsellors begin to examine them as to their qualifications. On a small board bound lengthwise by rubber bands, or stuck in grooves are the cards drawn from the wheel and arranged according to the number of the seats, and containing the names, addresses, and occupations of the gentlemen seated in the box.

There are two means of removing a juryman. One is by challenge for cause, _i.e._, that he is shown to be unfit or prejudiced, and the other is what is known as a peremptory challenge which is practically the same as saying one side or the other does not like the man's looks. There are connotations about the word challenge which are essentially dramatic. It implies a battle, a duel, a tournament.

It is difficult to ascertain exactly what principles govern the successful examination and selection of a jury. In Ma.s.sachusetts and in certain important cases in New York, the whole panel of jurors summoned for the term of court have been investigated by detectives in order that the lawyer might have information about who was to be rejected or accepted as a juror to decide the case. The propriety of doing this may be questioned and the ordinary case could not bear such an expense.

Nevertheless there is a possibly sound reason for obtaining such information. Given a man's condition in life, his habits, his occupation, his church, his a.s.sociations, his politics, and given on the other hand a certain state of facts, it is nearly ascertainable how he is going to decide those facts. If a man has always been a rent payer and has probably had continued trouble with his landlord about repairs and a feeling of resentment at the regular recurrence of rent day, is it not natural that he is going to be somewhat prejudiced against a landlord in a dispute between landlord and tenant? or on the other hand can a man who is one of the unfortunate owners of real estate, and who having paid taxes, interest, insurance, repairs for removal of tenement house violations, and with frequent vacancies, really be absolutely just? If a juryman is a Jew, a Catholic, or a Baptist, there will probably be an innate sympathy for his co-religionist. The law does not recognize this unless the juryman is honest enough to confess a prejudice. The soundness of the Anglo-Saxon jury system is based on the theory that there is not one juryman but that there are twelve and that among twelve there will be an average between the landlord and the rent payer, between the Baptist and the Catholic.

The counsel ordinarily selects the jury with observation and common sense as his sole guide. The customary question asked jurymen, whether, given such and such a state of facts, "Do you think you could render a fair and impartial verdict?" is manifestly absurd to the juryman. Every man believes himself to be perfectly honest and just.

It takes a strong character to say, "I couldn't be fair." As a matter of fact such a man ought to be kept on the jury rather than let go. As a juryman once said to a lawyer after the case: "Why did you excuse me when I said I knew the other lawyer? You wasted your challenge; he wouldn't have let me stay. I knew him too well."

The extent to which the examination of the fitness of jurors may go is in the discretion of the court. The two extremes are represented by the methods in the English courts where the judge exercises close supervision over every question in the selection of the jury in what would be considered in America an arbitrary and unjustifiable manner, and the extreme liberality at criminal trials in this country. The difference in time is often between that of a few minutes and a few weeks.

Naturally the challenge for cause may or may not be allowed by the judge--the form being, "Your Honor, I ask you to excuse Mr.

Smith,"--because the lawyers are more careful in attempting them; for if they are not allowed the juror challenged may be small-minded enough to retain a grudge against the counsel. The sure challenges are the peremptory ones without any cause stated or reason given. The number of peremptory challenges for each side is usually six. As soon as a juror is challenged he steps out of the box and the clerk draws a new name from the wheel.

It is very much as if a player were dealt a hand of twelve cards, and under the rules of the game each side can discard and draw six times from the pack six single cards to improve his holding. The hand, however, is not only his but his opponent's, who may likewise discard and draw six cards when the first player is satisfied. When the second player is through the first may again discard any of the new cards the second has subst.i.tuted, provided, of course, that six drawings have not been exhausted. This game of chance is always played with an eye to creating a favorable impression on the jury and may be politely finessed to the extreme.

"Mr. Merriweather, do you know the defendant in this case, Mr. Jacobs, or his attorney, Mr. Jenkins, or his a.s.sistant, Mr.--er--the young gentleman on his left?" is the usual form, delivered with the utmost urbanity. It means very little, but perhaps helps the lawyer to identify an antagonistic juryman and to obtain their answers, which are almost uniformly in the negative. It is obviously desirable that the juryman, as a judge, should not be a friend of the opposite side.

From the manner of the man in the box, as he answers, may possibly be inferred his general disposition, and all further questions have this purpose in view. So the attorney for the plaintiff proceeds throughout the twelve before him, and he may say at any time, "Your Honor, I excuse juror number so and so."

Usually he examines the whole twelve before "excusing" any of them, and when doing so many lawyers turn from the box to the judge as they say, "I will excuse numbers four, five, and eleven." Frequently those remaining do not realize why their brethren have been dismissed. A slight bewilderment may pa.s.s across the faces of all, as a man here and there, under the beckoning finger of the clerk, rises to give up his seat.

Opinion differs as to the extent to which challenges should be exercised. Some trial lawyers are chary in using them, being anxious to appear frank, trusting and willing to accept the judgment of any decent citizen. Others are meticulously insistent and exhaust all their challenges. The first att.i.tude is the one of saying:

"I have such a fine case, so honest and just, that it is impossible that any fair-minded man should decade against me. Therefore, I shall not insist on these minor points of interest or prejudice. You are all open-minded. I will leave it to anyone." The second att.i.tude was explained by one lawyer who always put his hand to his chin, looked deeply and inquiringly at the jury, and said in an important voice:

"I challenge jurors numbers 6, 8, 9, and 11, or, 4, 5, and 12." When privately asked on what theory he proceeded in his earnest selection which seemed to imply so wonderful an insight, confessed to no theory at all except the plainly human one that he believed in using up all his challenges simply because it made the other jurors, who remained in the box, feel better and more selected. But the main purpose of selection is to secure a fair and intelligent jury.

Not infrequently one side or the other really wishes to get rid of the best men and willing to take the risk that this will not be apparent.

In a real estate case, counsel for the plaintiff not having a strong case succeeded in eliminating every man who had ever owned or who had ever had the slightest experience in houses or property. It was a bold confession that no one who understood the case would decide for him.

In railway accident cases, the plaintiff, who asks damages against the company, will often excuse so far as he can, every juror who appears well-to-do or a man of property.

A prominent New York lawyer, when a young man, had defended a case brought against a corporation. The plaintiff and his attorneys were Jews, and the jury-box when first filled was seven-twelfths Hebraic.

Counsel for the plaintiff immediately excused the five Gentiles and when the corporation's lawyer stood up, not a man in the jury-box was of his own race. He accepted them. The trial went on, and it appeared that the plaintiff's claim was very weak indeed. At last counsel for the defendant had to sum up and he concluded in this way:

"Gentlemen of the Jury: The plaintiff hopes to win this case not on the law, nor on his evidence, nor on any consideration of justice. He hopes to succeed because of the simple fact that he is a Jew, his lawyer is a Jew, and every one of you men are Jews." With an expression of faith in the sense of justice inherent in the Jewish race and of confidence in the verdict, the attorney for the defendant sat down. The jury decided in his favor.

Such boldness, when successful, is often rewarded, but it is of course inherently dangerous.

Skilful counsel will succeed in ingratiating themselves from the very beginning, but they will endeavor to do so only with the jury as a whole. Nothing is more unfortunate than to bestow attention upon a particular juryman: that is to flirt with a juror. If he has not yet been sworn in with the rest and the opponent sees it, he will certainly get rid of him. If he remained, he would very probably be regarded with suspicion by his chosen a.s.sociates. Should the counsel think that one man in the box is favorably disposed toward him, he wisely leaves him alone and hoping that the other side will not notice it, devotes himself the more earnestly to the others.

The jury is at last selected. The challenges have been exhausted. Both lawyers look as though they were pleased. The judge is informed that the jury is satisfactory, which is, of course, an euphemistic term. No jury is ever entirely satisfactory to both sides, but it is a polite way of saying it is the best they can get under the circ.u.mstances. The judge stops trying to balance his check book and looks up at the jury.

The attendant motions them to their feet. They hold up their hands.

The judge also rises.

"Gentlemen," he says, "Do you each and all of you solemnly swear to well and truly try the case of John Smith against Thomas Gregory and a just verdict render according to the evidence? So help you G.o.d." They do not answer, but they sit down.

IX

OPENING THE CASE

The jury is chosen, sworn, and sitting in the jury-box. The judge begins unfolding the papers of the case so that he may read the pleadings. The actual trial of issues is about to begin. The court attendant has taken the jurymen's hats and coats, another attendant has shown spectators to their seats and politely as possible suppressed the young law clerk who does not see why he could not go up to the judge and ask him what became of the case of Jones against Allen that was on the calendar last Thursday and should have been on to-day, or ask if "His Honor decided that motion in the case of Meyer against Cohen." The doors of the court-room are closed. The attendants go about looking for whisperers and saying, "Cease all conversation." The lady client is interrupted in telling her lawyer that she thinks the judge has a kind face, but that she does not like the looks of the man in uniform standing next to him, or vice versa.

Gradually the court-room quiets and a spirit of expectancy prevails.

But the actual taking of evidence and the hearing of testimony is not yet. Now comes what is known as the opening. So in the tournament, the armored knights entered with a blast of trumpets, their names and t.i.tles having been called, and it was customary for them to ride once or twice around the lists to let the judges see their armor, their weapons, their mounts, their trappings and accoutrements, or they might even try a tilt or two at one another. The introductory speech of counsel is somewhat in the nature of a parade or a preliminary skirmish. It may also be compared to the prologue spoken before the beginning of a drama. The speech with the vivid brevity, so common in legal terminology, is called the opening.

The object is to show to the judge and jury what the drama is about.

The secondary object is to arouse interest. Immediately after the opening comes the evidence, which is usually bald, fragmentary, and disconnected. It might be impossible for the jury to understand the relation of one bit of testimony to another. Take a simple case such as a suit for the failure to pay a bill at a dry-goods store. One witness testifies to the sale, another to the packing of the goods, another to the delivery; a receipt is introduced in evidence. Each one would not tell a connected story. The opening outlines the facts and makes the evidence understandable. It also has the function of an appetizer. This may seem a trifle unnecessary. But let us take an ill.u.s.tration. A whole case may depend upon a deed. If the paper itself were put in and read to the jury without explanation they would be bored. One witness is to tell this part of the story, another that, and the missing link of the chain may be supplied by the deed. The jury are not to be mystified before their interest is aroused. Are not the lives, property, or reputations of particular men at stake? The ordinary man and even more the average juryman has far too strong a sense of responsibility to be bored if truly he can understand what it is all about. The function of the opening is to tell him.

As the counsel begins opening every juryman leans forward and watches him intently. They feel their responsibility as officers of justice and there have been few complaints of their falling asleep during the trial. The jurymen have come to know the names of the opposing lawyers and the faces of the clients, if they have been pointed out during the examination of the jurors, but nothing more. Are the jury to hear a story of bitter resentment or of pa.s.sion and crime, or a calm demand for the payment of a debt? The opening will show.

Did the plaintiff during years of effort build up a business and take the defendant in as a partner only to be defrauded by him? Plaintiff's attorney will indicate the years of effort briefly, but impressively, before sketching the manner in which the defendant stole from him by fraud the fruits of his labor. When the plaintiff then testifies that in 1890 he opened a small store in Fourteenth Street, moved in 1896 to Twenty-third Street and thence in 1916 to an up-town street off the Avenue, the dates will sink into the jurors' minds and they will portray for themselves the twenty-six years of painstaking effort. No eloquence then could rival the effect of the witness's slow, bare recital of his progress. Yet without counsel's prologue what could be more dull than the naming of street numbers and dates?

The matter of the testimony may be interesting, but unless the witness has a rare gift of expression and a sense of the picturesque, the way in which it will be given may be dull and plain. But at this point the little keen-faced lawyer for the other side jumps up and interrupts: "I object, your Honor; what difference does it make where he lived in 1890, whether on Fifth Avenue or Mulberry Bend? What we want to know is what he is suing for now." And the court will probably rule with him and keep the plaintiff down to more relevant facts.

Some of the important answers may be yes or no. Counsel in such a case supplies the color and gives an appearance of life to what is actually alive enough, but which alone would seem dry. Even if so famous a character of fiction as "Becky Sharp" came into court and only looked her part with what intense interest would we not hang on her testimony, though it consisted of no more than "Yes, I did"; "I never saw him before." We should be fascinated by this bald statement because Thackeray had interested us so enormously in the lady. The air would be electrified by the force of her personality. Without a previous introduction, however, we might be so lacking in discernment as to find her, in appearance and voice, no more unusual than the average witness who goes on the stand.

Thackeray not only created Becky Sharp; he also created our interest in her. Similarly the lawyer may create an interest in his witnesses, some of whom may be personally every bit as extraordinary as any character in a novel. If a witness be actually commonplace, there is all the more need for making him vividly human; if he be so colorless that nothing could be made of him personally, he may acquire interest through the cla.s.s to which he belongs, for cla.s.ses have a personable color more deep than the almost colorless individual.

To induce the jury to visualize the story and the characters, the highest literary gift may be brought into play. The lawyer is limited as to time and the description he may employ. He has, however, his voice and expression: an actor's tools. But again the rule of simplicity and naturalness should apply.

The opening speech is a prologue and it does not argue. Counsel will not be permitted to argue his case in his opening, for his opponent will object and the Court will often say, warningly, "Counselor, you are summing up." This limitation, however, is in reality an advantage, not merely because it applies to both sides, but for the reason that no lawyer with any sense of dramatic values would antic.i.p.ate his _denouement_. Argument is apt to be chilling unless the decision sought for can be discerned, however dimly, without it. And how are the jury to frame their decision before the evidence has been presented? The jury should be interested in Miss Becky Sharp and prepared to understand her testimony, but, before they have heard her story from witnesses who know, they will not be favorably impressed by urgings that she was wronged or badly treated.

There is usually leniency in regard to the length of the opening, because it is well recognized that few witnesses can tell a connected story, or tell it well. From the old French story of the lawyer who began _avant le creation du monde_, and the judge who asked him to pa.s.s on _au deluge_, down to the usual modern method of nagging the lawyer into stating only the skeleton of the action, there are various degrees of eloquence, varying naturally according to the importance of the case.

A wonderful thing the prologue may be in its restraint and picturesque vividness, and, not least, in its clarity. Confused business dealings may be described so that important sums, figures, and dates will be remembered and recognized when they appear again in the evidence.

Counsel, for the time, occupies the center of the stage; his course is in his hands to make or mar. He reaches the end of his speech, bows, and the first witness is called.

Before the testimony begins the judge looks at the defendant's counsel and asks him whether he wishes to state his defense. There is a different practice in this regard in different courts. Some insist that the defendant ought to tell at once what his side is about, others that the defendant should wait until the plaintiff is through all his evidence and has rested; then at the beginning of the defendant's case the defendant's lawyer opens and makes his introduction.

The difference between these two manners of proceeding is so essential that it may be explained. On the one hand the lawyer feels that he should not be compelled to give away what he is going to do, how he proposes to meet the attack, whether he will lie in ambush and snipe the plaintiff as he comes on or intrench behind a rampart and meet him with the full force of his battery of evidence. He may be planning to make a sudden sally after the plaintiff has shot his arrows and exhausted all his ammunition. The lawyer feels if he tells his plan of campaign he loses the advantage of generalship.

Suppose a simple case: The plaintiff is suing on a long account for a bill of goods which will take a long time to prove. The defendant has a receipt in full showing payment. On the theory that the defendant need not disclose his evidence in the opening, he may sit still with the receipt up his sleeve, let the plaintiff open and call his witness, the evidence may drag itself along with the usual motions and objections, and after the plaintiff rests the defendant opens to the jury.

"Gentlemen," he says, "this is a simple case. The plaintiff claims he sold the goods and the defendant did not pay for them. I propose to show you that the plaintiff was not telling the truth. I made him prove to you that he sold every item in the bill because I wanted to show you how untruthful he is. My client, the defendant, not only paid for the goods but I can show the receipt in full signed by the plaintiff."