Career in C Major and Other Fiction

Introduction

The dialogues which Cain began writing for Mencken and The American Mercury in 1925 were cast in the form of one-act plays and lampooned various aspects of our federal, state, and local governments. He wrote these devastating satires for five years, by which time he had accumulated almost enough for a book. So, encouraged by Alfred A. Knopf, Cain wrote a few more to include in a little volume of satire titled Our Government, published by Knopf in 1930.

If Our Government had been the kind of success Knopf, Mencken, and several of the critics thought it should have been, James M. Cain might today be best known primarily as a satiric writer of comic dialogues. Mencken, especially, never understood why Our Government did not “create a sensation... there was capital stuff in it.”

To emphasize the satire, Cain wrote a pretentious tongue-in-cheek Preface to Our Government in which he suggested that his “studies” of government were the inevitable result of having made the transition into the scientific era. “We live in an age,” he said, “that has abandoned theory, except when theory can be made to serve as working hypothetic, in favor of fact. No longer do we start with cognito, ergo sum as a basis for deducing the principle of the universe; no longer do we believe that the principle of the universe can be deduced, or even stated. We incline to table such profundities as this in favor of things more objective: instead of concluding, by syllogistic processes, that since the patient is insane he must have a devil inside of him, we study his symptoms, trying to find out something about them; instead of indulging in great debates about the fairness of the income tax, we study the minutiae of economic phenomena, accumulating great columns of tables; instead of saying cognito, and letting it go at that, we study ourselves, seeking to find out how we cogitate, if at all. In other words, science has become descriptive.”

Science, said Cain, would hazard no opinion on the principle of the universe until it knew what the universe was like. And “this little book represents an effort to make a beginning in this direction on behalf of our American government, perhaps the most baffling riddle of all. We have, heaven knows, no dearth of books on the theory of our government, on its functions, its virtues, and its defects. The libraries are full of such books, and the courthouses are even fuller, for every judicial decision is in some degree an analysis of these matters, and many judicial decisions are lengthy. But there is no book, so far as I know, which sets out to paint a portrait of our government; to depict, without bias or comment, the machine which passes our laws, educates our children, and polices our streets; to show the kind of men who man it, the matters that occupy them, and the nature of their deliberations.”

His method of approach, he said, was “to select some typical problem of a particular branch of government, usually on the basis of newspaper clippings, and then reconstruct the manner in which it would be dealt with by the typical agents of that branch of government... While it has its limitations, it was the best method, I believe, with which to achieve complete verisimilitude, which after all was the main desideratum.”

Some of the reviewers completely missed the satire and were baffled by the contrasting serious tone of the Preface and the comic shenanigans that took place in the book. But most of them caught it, and some were positively ecstatic in their responses: John Carter, in Outlook, called Our Government a remarkably accurate picture of American politics and said, “It has just that touch of Aristophanes which is necessary to act as a preservative and make it as readable and comprehensible five centuries from now.”

Our Government has long been out of print, but over the years many of the satires have been produced as one-act plays by small theater groups. The dialogues included here are from the “State Government” section of Our Government, and all but two (“Counsel” and “The Judiciary”) originally appeared in The American Mercury. “The Governor” was also included in Katherine and E. B. White’s Subtreasury of American Humor, which always pleased Cain, who wrote Mrs. White in 1941: “The piece is one of the few things I have written that I have real affection for and it means almost more to me than I care to admit to have it in there.”

The last dialogue included here, “Don’t Monkey with Uncle Sam,” was written for Vanity Fair in 1933 and was an obvious attempt to revive the dialogue form for satirizing the government which had worked so well for Mencken, who left The Mercury in 1933. But it was Cain’s last effort at this type of satire.

The Governor

THE GOVERNOR’S office, about two o’clock in the afternoon. Ranged about the table, talking in whispers, area petitioner for a pardon, dressed in ordinary clothes but having a pasty pallor, a singularly close haircut, and a habit of starting nervously whenever he is addressed; two guards, carrying guns on their hips in holsters; a witness, a prosecutor, and counsel for the petitioner. THE GOVERNOR enters, accompanied by a woman secretary, and they all stand up until he has sat down and donned his glasses. In a moment a lovely aroma begins to perfume the air. It is such an aroma as pervades a bonded distillery, and unmistakably it comes from the head of the table, where THE GOVERNOR has taken his place.

Gen’lemen, y’ may p’ceed.

Yes, Yexcellency.

’N I’ll ashk y’ t’ be ’s brief ’s y’ can, c’se busy af’noon w’ me. Gi’ me th’ facksh, that’s all I w’nt know. ’M plain, blunt man, got no time f’ detailsh. Gi’ me facksh, ’n y’ won’t have t’ worry ’bout fair trea’m’nt f’m me.

I think I speak for everybody here, Yexcellency, when I say we’re all anxious to save Yexcellency’s time, and—

’Preciate ’at.

And so I imagine the best way would be for me to sketch in for Yexcellency, briefly of course, the history of this case, I may say this very unusual case.

So unusual, Yexcellency, that the Parole Board threw up its hands and refused to have anything to do with it whatsoever, and that is why Yexcellency’s valuable time—

Nev’ min’ Parole Board. Is ’t mer’tor’s case, tha’s all want know.

I understand that, Yexcellency. I only wanted to say that the prawscution regards this case as abslutely prepawstrous.

A’right. Y’said it.

Now, Yexcellency, this young man Greenfield Farms, this young man you see here—

One mom’nt. When’s ex’cution take plashe?

I’m glad Yexcellency reminded me of that, because praps I ought to have explained it sooner. Fact of the matter, Yexcellency, this is not a capital case.

Gi’ me facksh, gi’ me facksh! I got no time f detailsh. When’s ex’cution take plashe, I said.

Yes, Yexcellency. I was only telling Yexcellency that there won’t be any execution, because—

Wha’s ’at?

Because this young man Farms wasn’t sentenced to death; he was sentenced to the penitentiary—

Oh!

On a ten year term, ten years in prison, for participation in the armed march we had some years ago, when the miners made all that trouble. Or, as it’s never been clear in my mind that Farms had any idea what he was doing at that time—

Never did. I hope my die I just went out there to see what was going on—

Hey! Sh!

Praps I should have said alleged participation.

And another thing praps you should have said was that of his ten years in prison he has already served three and he’ll get two more off for good behavior and that leaves five and five is a little different from ten.

C’me on, c’me on!

I’m only—

Y’ only pett’fogg’n. Shu’ up.

Now, Yexcellency will recall that as a result of that uprising, six defendants, of which Farms was one, were convicted of treason to the State and the rest were allowed to plead guilty of unlawful assemblage—

Don’t was’ m’ time talk’n ’bout ’at upris’n. I know all ’bout it. I’s right there ’a saw fi’ thous’n of ’m march by m’own front ya’d. Get on ’th facksh.

Then if Yexcellency is familiar with that, we’re ready now for this witness, and after he has told his story I can outline briefly to Yexcellency the peculiar bearing it has on this case, and—

Is ’at witness?

Yes, sir.

Sit over here where I c’n see y’ better. ’N don’t shtan’ ’n awe ’f me. Washa name?

Ote Bailey, sir.

Shpeak right out, Bailey. ’M plain, blunt man ’n y’ needn’t shtan’ ’n awe ’f me.

Now, Bailey, if you’ll tell the Governor in your own words what you told the Parole Board—

Well, it was like this. I was coming down the street on the milk-wagon early in the morning, right down Center Street in Coal City, and it was cold and there was a thin skim of ice on the street. And the mare was a-slipping and sliding pretty near every step, because she was old and the cheap dairy company hadn’t shoed her right for cold weather. And—

Wha’s ’at? Milk-wagon?

Just a moment, Yexcellency. Now, Bailey, you forgot to tell the Governor when this was.

This here was twenty-three year ago come next January.

All right, now go ahead and—

Hol’ on, Bailey, hol’ on. [To COUNSEL] Young man, I got worl’ o’ patience. ’M plain, blunt man, a’ls will’n t’ help people ’n distress, p’ticularly when — p’ticularly — p’ticularly — h’m — p’ticularly. But wha’s twen’ three yea’s ’go got t’ do ’th ’is ex’cution? Tell me that.

Well, Yexcellency, I thought it would save time if we let Bailey tell his story first, and then I can outline the bearing it has on this case. But if Yexcellency prefers, I’ll be glad to—

Young man, ’re you trifl’n ’th me?

Not at all, Yexcellency, I—

I warn y’ ri’ now I won’t shtan’ f’ trifl’n. Facksh, facksh, tha’s what I want!

Yes, Yexcellency.

A’ right, Bailey, g’ on ’th it. I’ll see ’f I c’n get facksh m’self.

So pretty soon, the mare went down. She went right down in the shafts, and I seen I would have to unhook her to get her up.

Y’ right, y’ qui’ right. Y’ can’t get ’m up ’thout y’ unhook ’m. No use try’n. G’ on.

So then I got down offen the wagon and commence unhooking her. And I just got one breeching unwrapped, ’cause they didn’t have snap breechings then, when I heared something.

Whasha hear?

I heared a mewling.

Mewl’n?

That’s right. First off, sound like a cat, but then it didn’t sound like no cat. Sound funny.

What sound like?

Sound like a child.

Y’ sure?

Yes, sir.

Sound’ like child. Thank God, now ’m gett’n some facksh. G’ on. What ’en?

So I left the mare, left her laying right where she was, and commence looking around to see where it was coming from.

Where what was com’n f’m?

This here mewling.

Oh, yes. Mewl’n. F’got f’ mom’nt. G’ on, Bailey. Shpeak right out. Don’t shtan’ ’n awe ’f me. What ’en?

So pretty soon I figured it must be coming from the sewer, what run down under Center Street, and I went over to the manhole and listened and sure enough that was where it was coming from.

Shew’r?

Yes, sir.

Keep right on, Bailey. Y’ g’ me more facksh ’n fi’ minutes ’n whole pack ’lawyersh gi’ me ’n week.

I assure Yexcellency—

Keep out o’ this, young man. Y’ tried m’ patience ’nough already. ’M after facksh ’n ’m gett’n ’m. G’ on, Bailey.

So I tried to get the cover offen the manhole, but I couldn’t lift it. I tried hard as I could, but I couldn’t budge it.

Busha tried?

Yes, sir.

Thasha shtuff! G’ on.

So then I figured the best thing was to get some help and I run all the way up and down the street looking for a cop. And pretty soon I found a couple of them. And first off they didn’t believe it, but then when they come to the manhole and heared this here mewling, they tried to lift the cover with me, and all three of us couldn’t move it, and why we couldn’t move it was it was froze to the rim.

F’oze?

Yes, sir.

F’oze. G’ on.

So then we figured the best thing to do would be to put in a alarm. We figured if we got the fire company down there, maybe they would have something to move it with.

G’ on. Keep right on till I tell y’ to shtop, Bailey.

So we went to the box and put in a alarm. And pretty soon here come the hook-and-ladder galloping down the street. And five fellows what was members of the Coal City Volunteer Fire Department was on it, because they was still setting in the fire-house playing a poker game what they had started the night before after supper.

The Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment?

Yes, sir. So then—

Wait minute. Wait minute, Bailey. Y’ touch m’ heart now. The ol’ Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment, wha’ y’ know ’bout ’at? I was mem’ that m’self. I was mem’ that — le’s see, mus’ been thirty yea’s ’go.

I hear it was a wonderful company in those days, Yexcellency.

Won’ful ’n ’en some. We won State ca’nival three times runn’n. C’n y’ ’magine ’at?

You don’t mean it, Yexcellency!

Well, well! Y’ touch m’ heart now, Bailey, y’ cert’ny have. ’S goin’ be ha’d f’ me t’ send y’ t’ chair ’f y’ was mem’ old Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment. G’ on. What ’en?

— ?

Don’t sit there with your mouth hanging open like that, Bailey. The Governor was thinking of something else, of course.

Oh! So then them fellows pulled in their horses and got down offen the hook-and-ladder and commence hollering where was the fire. So we told them it wasn’t no fire, but a child down the sewer, and then they got sore, because they claim we broke up their poker game and it was roodles.

What ’en?

So we ast them to help us get the cover off, and they wasn’t going to do it. But just then this here mewling come again, just a little bit. It had kind of died off, but now it started up again, and them fellows, soon as they heared it, they got busy. ’Cause this here mewling, it give you the shivers right up and down your back.

What ’en?

So then we put the blade of one of them axes next to the cover, between it and the rim, and beat on it with another ax. And that broke it loose and we got it off.

What ’en?

So then them firemen put a belt on me, what they use to hook on the hose when they shove it up on them ladders, and let me down in the sewer. And I struck a match and sure enough there was a child, all wrapped up in a bunch of rags, laying out on the sewer water. And why it hadn’t sunk was that the sewer water was froze and a good thing we didn’t shove no ladder down there because if we had the ice would of got broke and the child would of fell in.

What ’en?

So I grabbed the child, and them fellows pulled me up, and then we all got on the hook-and-ladder and whipped up them horses for the Coal City Hospital, ’cause it looked like to me that child was half froze to death, but when we give it in to the hospital we found out that being in the sewer hadn’t hurt it none and it was all right.

So y’ saved child?

Yes, sir.

Tha’s good!.. Well, Bailey, y’ made good case f’ y’self. I don’t min’ say’n, ’m ’pressed.

But this witness isn’t quite finished with his testimony, Yexcellency.

Wha’s ’at? He saved child, didn’ he? ’A’s all wan’ know. Facksh, facksh, tha’s what I go on!

But Yexcellency—

A’ right, ą’ right. G’ on, Bailey, what ’en?

So then, when I got back to the milk-wagon and unwrapped the other breeching and unslipped the traces, the old mare couldn’t get up nohow. She was stiff from cold, and I had to get them cops again and shoot her. So the dairy company was pretty sore. The old mare, she weren’t worth more’n twenty-five dollars, but them company men let on I was hired to take care of the company property and not pull no babies outen the sewer.

What ’en?

So we had it pretty hot for a while, and then later on that day I went down to the hospital for to look at the baby and get them nurses there to name him Greenfield Farms, what was the name of the dairy company, so when they put it in the Coal City News about the baby being found, the company would get a free ad outen it, anyway twenty-five dollars’ worth, what was the worth of the mare, and they did and we was square.

What ’en?

Well, I reckon that’s all. ’Cepting I picked up the paper about six months ago, and I seen where a fellow name of Greenfield Farms had spoke a piece at a entertainment what they had in the penitentiary, and I got to wondering if it was the same one, and I asked one or two people about it, and they sent me to this gentleman here, and come to find out it was.

So Yexcellency can see that this young man here, this young man Greenfield Farms, is one and the same with the child this witness pulled out of the sewer twenty-three years ago.

’N ’a’s all?

Yes, sir.

Well Bailey, don’ min’ say’n y’ touch m’ heart. The ol’ Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment, wha’ y’ know ’bout ’at?

Now Yexcellency, you’ve heard the story of this witness, I may say the truly remarkable story of this witness, which I think Yexcellency will agree had the stamp of truth all over it—

The ol’ Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment...!

A story, praps I should add, that we are prepared to substantiate in every particular from the hospital records, which we will leave with Yexcellency, and I may call Yexcellency’s attention to this certificate in particular, which states that the child was at least a month old when it was admitted, and—

Now wha’s all ’is got t’ do ’th pa’don f’ Bailey?

Farms, Yexcellency.

Farmsh, ’en?

I’m coming to that, Yexcellency. Now the salient point about this evidence, Yexcellency, is that it establishes beyond any reasonable doubt in my mind that there is nowhere in existing records any proof of Farms’s citizenship. He was, I remind Yexcellency, a month old when admitted to the Coal City Hospital. And what does that prove? It proves, Yexcellency, that he might have been born almost anywhere on the whole face of the earth. He might have been born anywhere from Greenland’s icy mountains to India’s coral strand. He is, so far as documentary proof to the contrary goes, Yexcellency, that most unfortunate being, I may say that pitiable being, who can claim no land as his own, being nothing more or less, Yexcellency, as the fellow says, a man without a country!

Well, well, well. I ashk y’ f facksh, ’n now y’ begin shpout’n poetry at me. Man ’thout country, hunh? Tha’s in’st’n.

Now I remind Yexcellency once more that the crime of which Farms stands convicted is treason. And treason is unique among crimes, Yexcellency, in that before any man can be convicted of it, his citizenship must be established, beyond all shadow of doubt, because TREASON, Yexcellency, as all the AUTHORITIES agree—

Shtop yell’n!

Yes, Yexcellency — implies a ALLEGIANCE — a allegiance to the State against which it is alleged to have been committed. And under the law.

Law? Law? Y’ talk’n t’ me ’bout law?

Yes, Yexcellency, and—

Washa com’n t’ me ’bout law for? Why ’nsha go t’ court ’bout law?

We’ve been to court, Yexcellency. We applied to the Supreme Court two months ago for a new trial, on the basis of the evidence which Yexcellency has just listened to, and which, praps I should have explained sooner, was not presented at the original trial because Farms had no idea at that time of the importance of his citizenship and neglected to inform me of the peculiar circumstances attending his birth. And the court denied the application, on the ground that while this evidence, if it had been presented at the trial, might have resulted in the granting of a motion to dismiss, it could not properly be regarded as new evidence, as it is essentially evidence of lack of evidence on the part of the State, rather than direct evidence of innocence.

In other words, Yexcellency is being asked to certify that if the dog hadn’t stopped to scratch fleas he would have caught the rabbit.

Not in the least, Yexcellency—

Y’ know what? Y’ both pair pett-fogg’n lawyersh. Y’ ’sgrace t’ bar. Farmsh! C’me here. I’ll do this m’self. Sit there, where c’n see y’.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir, Governor.

A’ right, Farmsh, shpeak right up now. Y’ needn’t shtan’ ’n awe ’f me. ’M plain, blunt man ’n got heart’s big’s all outdoorsh. Washa got say f’ y’self?

Governor, all I got to say is I went out there when them miners was gathering by the creek forks just to see what was going on—

Thash shtuff! Facksh! Motivesh! Tha’s wha’ want. G’ on, Farmsh. What ’en?

And then when they marched down the road, I went along with them just for fun, and then two months afterwards, when they come and arrested me, I didn’t have no more idea what they meant than the man in the moon, and—

Now we com’n. G’ on.

And then they sent me up. And... and...

Farmsh, now I ask y’ some’n. If I was t’ set y’ free, what would y’ do ’th y’ lib’ty?

If you was to set me free, Governor, the first thing I would do would be to go to the judge and get my citizenship fixed up—

That’s great! I’ll say that’s great! There you are, Yexcellency, right out of their own mouths! First this man isn’t guilty because maybe the prawscution couldn’t have proved his citizenship. And the first thing he’s going to do if he gets a pardon is to get his citizenship fixed up! If that doesn’t—

Not at all, Yexcellency. In fact, I resent the imputation of—

Shtop! F’ God’s sake shtop! [To the Secretary] C’mute’ sen’ce ’mpris’nment f’ life!

What? Oh my God!

Hunh?

But, Yexcellency—

No more! ’M not g’n lis’n ’nother word. ’S comp’mise. ’S comp’mise, I know it’s comp’mise. But’s bes’ c’n do. Who y’ think y’ are, tak’n up my time way y’ have? Don’ min’ f m’self. ’M plain, blunt man ’n give y’ shirt off m’ back, ’f y’ need it. But my time b’longsh t’ people. Y’ und’shtan’ ’at? My time b’longsh t’ people, ’n wha’ y’ do with it? I ashk y’ f’ facksh ’n y’ come in here ’th noth’n but tech’calitiesh! Tech’calitiesh I said! Pett’fogg’n! Triffl’n detailsh! Dog! Fleash! Rabbit! Poetry! ’M done with it! ’M not g’n lis’n ’nother word!

But really, Yexcellency—

Yeah, a fine lawyer you was. First you git me sent up for ten year and now you git me sent up for life—

Yeah, and a fine thing the Coal City Volunteer Fire Department done for the country when they pulled you out of the sewer—

Wha’s ’at? Wha’s at?

I’m just trying to tell Yexcellency—

Jus’ minute, jus’ minute!.. The ol’ Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment! Wha’ y’ know ’bout ’at? So Farmsh, y’ were memb’ ol’ Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment?

Well... I reckon I was, in a way, Governor. I reckon I was, ha ha! I reckon I was kind of born to it, ha ha ha! I reckon I must be pretty near the only person in the world that was ever born to a fire department, ha ha, ha ha!

Farmsh, ’m g’n ask y’ some’n. Look m’ ’n eye, Farmsh. Farmsh, y’ guilty ’r y’ not guilty?

Governor, I hope my die I ain’t no more guilty than you are.

Farmsh, I believe y’ tell’n’ me truth. Farmsh, y’ free man.

Oh my Gawd, Governor, thank you sir, thank—!

The ol’ Coal City Vol’teer Fi’ D’pa’ment. Wha’ y’ know ’bout ’at? Wha’ y’ know ’bout ’at?...

[While the Secretary makes out a pardon and the GOVERNOR signs it, the group breaks up in a round of hand-shaking, the lawyers to go out and have a drink together, the petitioner to go back to the penitentiary for the last formalities. When they have all gone, the GOVERNOR still sits nodding to himself and presently falls amiably asleep.]

The Legislature

THE THIRD ROOM ON your left as you enter the south wing of the State Capitol. It is an afternoon in midwinter, and three gentlemen, MESSRS. HAYES, LOMAN, and FRIEND, are sitting at one end of the table. They constitute a quorum of the Committee on Education of the House of Representatives, and before them is a large pile of bills, resolutions, and memoranda.

Well, looking at them don’t do no good.

It sure don’t.

Might as well get busy.

A hell of a fine time them other guys on this committee picked to get the flu!

How you say we do? Take up them schoolhouses, or leave them wait till we got a couple other things out of the way first?

Leave them schoolhouses till last. They was referred jointly anyhow, and it ain’t no use of us wasting no sweat on them till Ways and Means has said what they’re goin’ to do.

All right, then. Authorizing constable of town of Gale’s Island to act as truant officer. Authorizing commissioners of town of Shawville to close certain streets to motor traffic during hours when public schools are in session. Them things don’t amount to nothing and here’s about forty more just like them. Shoot them right through, hey? Report them favorable and be done with it?

Hell, yes.

All set on them, then.

Pitch them over to one side. That’s a start anyways.

All right, then. Le’s get on this here Evolution Bill. Bill prohibiting the teaching of certain doctrines in educational institutions supported in whole or in part by public funds. What do you say on that?

I say that bill ought to been passed about ten years ago.

That bill hits me pretty good too. Still, it’s pretty important, so I guess we better consider it some.

What’s the use of considering? I don’t need no considering to know how I’m going to vote.

How you feel about that, Mr. Friend?

Hanh?

This here Evolution Bill. We’re getting ready to report on it now and we kind of want to make sure we got the right idea about it.

Hunh.

So if you got anything to say about it, now is the time to say it.

They hadn’t ought to kill no cows thouten they pay for them.

Now, what in the hell has the Committee on Education got to do with cows?

No, this ain’t the Tubercular Cattle Bill. This is the Evolution Bill. Or Anti-evolution Bill, some of them calls it.

Evolution!

I ain’t deef.

You read it.

Maybe I read it.

He ain’t asked maybe did you read it. He asked did you read it. Come on. If you ain’t deef, then act like you was awake.

What’s reading got to do with it?

Well, we’re kind of busy this afternoon, Mr. Friend, and it would kind of save time if you had read the bill.

I reckon I can read it if I have to. Where’s it at?

You mean to say you been a member of this Legislature a whole month and attended all the hearings this committee has held and ain’t read that bill yet?

Now, Loman, it don’t do no good to get sore.

No, but what does the taxpayers pay a bum like that for?

All right. Where’s it at?

Well, Mr. Friend, it’s pretty late in the day to start reading the bill now. I reckon the best way is for us to kind of explain to you what’s in it. Then you can tell us how you feel about it.

I can read. But I ain’t all the time bragging on it.

I bet you ain’t.

Well, le’s see. Le’s see now. Le’s see how I can put it.

I never seen such a place in my life. They can’t never do nothing thouten some man stands up and starts reading something. All the time showing off how good they can read. Up my way the people ain’t got time for all this here reading.

They can read them pain-killer ads though.

Well, first off, Mr. Friend, you know what this here evolution is, don’t you?

Maybe.

You say maybe oncet more and maybe you stay where you’re sitting and maybe you take a dive in that spittoon.

Yeah, I hear tell of it. I hear the preachers talk about it plenty of time.

And you know what it is?

Mister, go ahead and do your talking. Don’t worry about me. I’ll git the hang of it time you git done.

The main idea, the way I get it, is that men is descended from monkeys.

Hunh?

Dam, it does break my heart to think of the people of this State paying out their money for this.

That men is descended from monkeys.

De—?

Aw hell!

Descended. You got a father, ain’t you?

Doggone it, come on and say what you’re gitting at. I’m tired of all this here funny talk. All the time using big words. All the time talking and nobody can’t tell what it means. Sure I got a father. How you think I got here if I didn’t have no father? What you ask me that for, anyway?

Just to be o’n’ry.

Keep out of this, will you, Loman? It’s hard enough without no help.

Why don’t you go out there and talk to that tree?

Because the tree ain’t on the committee.

That’s a dam shame.

Mr. Friend, we ain’t giving you no funny talk. We’re explaining this here evolution as good as we can, and we’d get along better if you would listen at what we’re trying to tell you and quit all the time putting up a bum argument about how we’re doing it.

I ain’t ask you to explain me nothing. Go on and do your talking. I already told you I’ll git the hang of it time you git done. I ain’t never seen nothing yet I couldn’t git the hang of.

If you was to get the hang of a manila rope, that would be a fine thing for the people of this State.

All right, you got a father. And you got a grandfather, ain’t you? Or maybe had one?

All right. All right. Just keep on with your funny talk. All right, mister, now I’ll ask you something. If I didn’t have no grandfather, how would I have a father? How would my father of got here, hunh? Tell me that!

That’s a tough one, all right.

Loman, just as a favor to me, will you stay out of this and quit balling it up? All right. You want to get in it, you take him awhile. See what you can do.

No, thanks. I pass.

You can read so good, tell me that.

All right, Mr. Friend, you got a father and you got a grandfather. Now you’re descended from your father and your grandfather, you got that? And your father and your grandfather, they’re descended from their father and their grandfather, you got that? And so are you descended from their father and their grandfather, and so on and so on, you got that?

I already told you I ain’t deef.

And them evolutionists says men is descended from monkeys.

You quit hollering at me.

Hollering at you! Goddam it, I’ll crown you with a brick in a minute!

Who’s balling it up now?

Well anyway, I ain’t balling it up on purpose.

All the time hollering at me. I ain’t going to take no more of it.

Mr. Friend, did you hear what I just now told you about how them evolutionists says men is descended from monkeys?

That’s better, mister. That’s a whole lot better. You talk to me right, I’ll talk to you right.

You hear that, don’t you, Hayes? Now you know where you get off.

Mr. Friend.

Hunh?

Are we talking to suit you this way? Is this all right, the way I’m talking now?

But that ain’t how you was talking just now. You was hollering at me.

Never mind how I was talking just now. Am I talking to suit you now?

And another thing, mister. I’ll thank you to quit cussing at me. I ain’t no mule.

All right, then.

I don’t allow nobody to cuss at me. You just as well understand that right now.

Where was I at?

Where you was at was about them monkeys, but was you going or coming I wouldn’t like to say.

Oh yeah. Them monkeys. Now, Mr. Friend, have you got it all straight about that? About how them evolutionists says men is descended from monkeys?

Who says so?

Them evolutionists.

Ev—?

I swear this is the worst crime I ever seen.

— olutionists.

All right, mister, keep it up. Just keep it up. Some day the people is going to find out how things is run in this place. All the time showing off how good they can read. All the time showing off how many big words they know. All the time making speeches and using big words. I sit in that place over there every night for to help pass the laws, and then what? I can’t never git the meaning of nothing. I can’t never get the meaning on account of all them big words.

Well, it ain’t no other word for these people we’re talking about, Mr. Friend, so you just as well learn this one.

That’s it. Just take a week off and learn it.

Why don’t they talk so’s somebody can understand them?

All right, Mr. Friend, we won’t argue about it. We’ll just forget that word and go on with what we’re doing.

What in the hell are we doing anyway?

We’ll just say there’s some people that says this here, and not bother about no name for them at all. Have you got it straight what they say now? That men is descended from monkeys?

But I don’t never git the right meaning of nothing.

Well, that’s tough, but don’t let it worry you none. You got plenty of company. If them delegates ever found out what they was voting for ’stead of getting descended from monkeys they would get ascended up into heaven. ’Cause God is the only one knows, and even He ain’t so dam sure.

Monkeys!

That’s what we’re talking about, Mr. Friend. Monkeys.

Monkey-de-monk!

Ain’t these people in this place got nothing better to do, mister, than think up a whole lot of devilment about monkeys? Don’t they never do no work?

Never mind about whether they work or not, Mr. Friend. Have you got it straight about how men is descended from monkeys? Or supposed to be, anyhow?

All the time thinking up some new kind of devilment. All the time showing off how good they can read. All the time showing off how many big words they know. Mister, what we talking about monkeys for, anyhow? Why ain’t we talking about something that is some good? Why ain’t we talking about is Flint Neck going to git their new schoolhouse?

We’ve been all over that, Mr. Friend. The bills on them schoolhouses was referred jointly to the Committee on Education and the Ways and Means Committee and we’re postponing action on them until the Ways and Means takes up the money part, and then we’ll consider the Flint Neck schoolhouse on its merits same as all the rest. What we’re considering now is the Evolution Bill and I’ll appreciate it if you’ll get your mind on that so we’ll maybe have something to show for our time.

Let me tell you something, mister. I got elected for to git Flint Neck their new schoolhouse and I ain’t got no time to set around talking about monkeys.

Loman, what in the hell am I going to do about this?

I don’t know. I never seen nothing like it in my life.

Them people needs that schoolhouse, mister. They got hard times, and if some of them don’t git some money working on the new schoolhouse I don’t see how they’re going to eat.

Because look here, Loman, if we don’t get three to vote on it I ain’t so sure we can report the bill out at all. Anyway not without a whole lot of jockeying around the floor.

That’s the hell of it.

But how I’m going to keep this up I don’t know. I ain’t even got past the monkeys yet.

If he ain’t even got it straight about the monkeys he’s going to have a hell of a time with the Bible.

Hunh?

Nothing at all, Mr. Friend. We was just talking about how we could explain it to you a little better.

You was mumbling about that Bible.

That Bible! It ain’t only one Bible.

It weren’t my Bible! My Bible was in the house all the time!

Oh my God!

And it weren’t my still! I already told them it weren’t my still! It was on my place but I never knowed nothing about it! It was ’way down by the creek!

Anh-hanh. Anh-hanh.

Lemme alone! Quit putting on me about that Bible!

Anh-hanh. So you’re the guy the Flint Neck Ku Klux was talking about last month, hey? Using a Bible to prop up the pipe with, where it run down from the still to the coil? Anh-hanh. Well, a fine delegate to the Legislature you turned out to be!

Lemme alone! It weren’t my Bible!

Loman, I swear to God I don’t know which is the dumbest, you or this guy or the monkeys. Now look what you done. How the hell am I ever going to get this thing through his nut if you go on like this, scaring the hell out of him about his still? What do we care if he was running a still?

No, but what gets me is a bum like that that gets elected to the Legislature and then they find a still on his place. And propped up with a Bible.

I don’t care if it was propped up with a couple of Bibles and a hymn-book. I’m trying to get something done here and if you’ll just kindly keep your mouth the hell out of it, maybe we’ll get done by corn-planting time.

All right.

You got a spare handkerchief? Thanks. I ain’t sweat so much since I used to pitch hay.

Lemme alone! I’m going out of this place! I’m going home!

Set down! Set down and quit that blubbering and listen at what Mr. Hayes is telling you or I’ll take a poke at you. You hear me?

Now, Mr. Friend, I already told you about how them people says men is descended from monkeys!

Monkeys — you get it?

And that there monkey stuff is all crossed up with the Bible!

Bible — what you prop up your still with!

The Adam and Eve part, ’cause men couldn’t be descended from monkeys and Adam and Eve both!

Couldn’t be descended from both — you get it?

So this here bill says they can’t teach that stuff no more and then we throw out all the monkey books and buy new books in their place and that’s all there is to it!

That’s all. Just buy new books and that’s all there is to it!

So that’s the bill and now what do you say on it?

Lemme alone! I don’t know nothing about no bill!

Mr. Friend, listen. It don’t make no difference which way you vote, yes or no. ’Cause even if you’re in favor of this here monkey stuff it’ll be two to one the other way and all we want you to do is say yes or no for the record. Now will you please say one way or the other, yes or no?

Lemme alone!

Well, Hayes, there you are!

Loman, I’m going to report this guy to the Speaker. I don’t know if anything can be done about it, but I’m going to find out. I’m going to report him at the night session. You’re right. This here is a right down swindle on the taxpayers. Just think of it! A great moral measure like this here Evolution Bill being held up by a bum like that!

They ought to send him back to Flint Neck. That’s where he wants to go and they ought to let him.

I’m agin it.

What was that?

I’m agin this here bill. Paying out a whole lot of money for new books and—

Whoops!

By gosh we’re done! He’s voted, and he’s agin it, and we’re done!

All the time paying out money for books... Reading... Big words... Monkeys...

The Administration of Justice (in Three Parts)

The Commissioners

The office of the County Commissioners, Room No. I, courthouse. It is morning. Sitting in silence around the large table in the center of the room are MR. LERCH, superintendent of the county almshouse; MR. MUKENS, janitor of the almshouse; and MR. YOST, an inmate of the almshouse. Presently MR. WADE, chairman of the Board of County Commissioners, enters through a door marked “Private.”

I reckon you gentlemen know what I called this little meeting for. You all seen them pieces in the papers where people are getting burned up down to the almshouse, and I got to lay the matter before the commissioners, account of them people down in the lower end of the county raising so much hell about it. So I thought the thing to do was for us to kind of get together and listen to this man here that done all the talking and see what he’s got to say for hisself.

All I got to say, Mr. Wade, is this here stuff in the papers is a pack of lies from start to finish and that’s all there is to it. What gets me is this here man here, and the county’s been feeding him three year now, and he goes and tells them paper men a pack of lies like this here.

Four year.

Four year, and that’s all the gratitude he’s got!

I hope Christ may kill me if I knowed they was paper men. Then I never told them all that stuff they put in. They made up a whole lot theirself.

I don’t want you to think it’s what you call a reflection on you, Mr. Lerch, because I know how fine you been running things out at the almshouse and all like of that. But it’s them people down in the lower end of the county. You know how they are.

Don’t tell me nothing about them people down in the lower end of the county, Mr. Wade. I know ’em.

Half of ’em’s already in the almshouse and half of ’em got relations that’s in.

Of course now, I believe in Christian burial.

Mr. Wade, every decent man believes in a Christian burial. I don’t see how them paper men can look theirself in the face to print all that stuff, just on this man’s say-so.

I hope Christ may kill me if I told ’em all that stuff they put in. They done made a whole lot of it up.

And the county feeding you four year! It’s just like Mr. Lerch says, you had ought to be ashamed of yourself.

And there ain’t nobody down there been treated no better than he is. Same as if he was in his own house, only better.

I never knowed they was paper men. They come up to me and made out like they was just looking around.

Well, what did you tell ’em?

I didn’t tell ’em nothing scarcely, excepting what I hear tell, one thing another. Nothing excepting what a whole lot of them was talking around.

What about that there jawbone?

Yes, how about that there jawbone? How did they put it in about that there jawbone if you didn’t show them no jawbone?

Mr. Wade, you hit it right on the head. That there is just what I want to know. How did they put it in about that there jawbone if he didn’t show them no jawbone?

I ain’t saying I didn’t tell them nothing about no jawbone. What I say is they done made up a whole lot of lies and put it in.

You ain’t no more seen a jawbone down there than you seen a whale. How come you to tell them men any such lie as that?

I hope Christ may kill me if I didn’t find a jawbone down here. I got that jawbone, right here in my coat pocket.

[He fumbles in his pocket and produces what is unquestionably a human mandible, the teeth still sticking in it.]

That there just goes to show what kind of man he is, Mr. Wade. He done showed them paper men that jawbone, just like they said he done.

A fellow could of told he was lying, all along.

Where did you get that jawbone?

Found it in the ashes when I was hauling ’em away from the furnace. I pulled it right out of the bucket. Thought it was a clinker, first off, and pulled it right out of the bucket.

Who told you to pick the clinkers out of the bucket? You was to haul the ashes away from the furnace, and not pay no attention to them clinkers.

And the county has been feeding him four year! Seems like the court had ought to take back the commitment of a fellow like that.

Them men never said they was paper men. They just made out like they was looking around, one thing another, and then all them pieces come out in the paper.

How do you know that there is a jawbone?

Them men said it was a jawbone. It looks like a jawbone.

That there might be a dog’s jawbone.

What else did you tell them paper men?

I didn’t tell them nothing. I didn’t tell them ary other thing. They done made up all the rest of them things they put in.

How about this here piece about you seeing Mr. Lerch and Mr. Mukens throwing a stiff in the furnace?

Mr. Wade, you hit it. That there is just what I want to know. I just been waiting for you to ask him.

Me too. I just been waiting.

I don’t remember saying nothing about that. I don’t remember good what I did tell them, account of them not saying they was paper men, one thing another. We just kind of talked along, like of that.

Then that there was another lie, wasn’t it? You didn’t see no stiff throwed on the furnace no more than I did, did you?

I hope Christ may kill me if I didn’t see Mr. Lerch and Mr. Mukens throw a stiff right in the furnace.

Then you did tell the paper men all this here stuff they put in, didn’t you?

I don’t just recollect. But they done made a whole lot of it up.

How do you know it was a stiff?

I knowed it was a stiff by the smell. I smell it soon as the fire hit it. Didn’t smell like no other meat. Had a kind of funny smell to it.

I never heared the beat of that.

That there just goes to show how much truth there is in all this stuff you read in the papers.

How come you to see all this here?

I hid out on them. I heared a lot of talk, one thing another, and then one day I heared a fellow died in there, and I hid out on them, right down in the cellar.

And the county has been feeding you four year!

I hope Christ may kill me if I didn’t see them throw a stiff right in the furnace. I hid out on them, and first thing you know, I hear the door upstairs open easy like, and here come Mr. Lerch and Mr. Mukens, carrying a stiff on a stretcher, one to his head and one to his feet. Then, when they got to the furnace, Mr. Mukens throwed the door open, he did, and then him and Mr. Lerch shoved him in on the fire.

And then you hollered for the paper men?

I didn’t holler for no paper men, no sir! I run, I did, after Mr. Lerch and Mr. Mukens went away. And I never knowed they was paper men. They made out like they was just looking around.

What else did you tell the paper men?

I never told them nothing else. That there is all I told them, only they made up a whole lot theirself and put it in.

So that there is all you seen, or think you seen?

That there is all I seen, but I heared a plenty of talk going around.

We don’t want to know what you heared. We want to know what you seen.

That there is all I seen, but I heared a plenty.

Don’t that beat all, Mr. Wade? Here this fellow finds a jawbone somewheres around, maybe he digs it up out of the graveyard, and thinks he seen a stiff throwed in the furnace, and that’s all there is to this talk and stuff you see in the newspapers.

And come to find out he don’t know if it was a stiff or not.

Seems to me them fellows would get tired of printing all the lies they print. They could of come to me or you and none of this stuff would of come out. Now we got the people down in the lower end of the county all stirred up and the commissioners is got to act on it. You know how them people in the lower end of the county is.

Don’t tell me! I know them.

My wife’s people lives down there, and I never seen the beat. Ain’t nothing ever suits them.

If them fellows would only print the truth I wouldn’t mind. It’s them lies that gets me.

Of course now, I ain’t saying we ain’t burned some of them people up — cremating them, I call it, regular cremation. But all this stuff about not having no Christian praying for them, why there ain’t nothing to that. I’m for Christian praying same as anybody else. I been a church member for twenty-five year now, and from what them fellows has put in the paper you would think I was brother-in-law to the devil.

And me his stepchild.

Why, Mr. Wade, the grand jury would be after me in a minute if I tried to bury all them people. I’m under a bond, I am.

Them is the things people never understand.

How come you to tell all them lies on me, when you knowed them people gets put away as good as anybody could ask for?

I never knowed they was paper men. If I had of knowed they was paper men, I wouldn’t never told them nothing.

Why, Mr. Wade, me and Mr. Mukens figured it up one night, and you ain’t got a idea what it would cost to bury all them people.

I ain’t got no doubt of it.

Something tremenjous. Nobody wouldn’t never believe it.

First off, Mr. Wade, the county would have to buy more land. That graveyard is all filled up down there. County would have to buy another graveyard. Then we would have to hire two extra men regular, just digging graves. It takes two men a whole morning to dig a grave, and a whole day in wintertime, when the ground is froze.

Them is the things that runs into money.

Then you got to have a box. And I tell you, it ain’t like it used to be, when you could knock a dry-goods box apart and nail it together again and have as good a box as anybody could want.

Them fellows is asking money for boxes, too. A dollar apiece for them, some of them gets.

What with the high price of lumber and carpenters’ wages, I tell you a box costs money.

Lumber and wages is out of sight. I just finished building a storm door on my porch, not no fancy storm door, just a regular storm door, and it cost me seventy-five dollars time I was done with it.

It’s a shame what them fellows asks for a day’s work. There ain’t none of them will touch a job for less than ten dollars a day.

And what’s more, they get it.

They ask railroad fare to come down our way.

Time you figure it all up, like me and Mr. Mukens done one night, I expect it would cost twenty-five dollars a head to bury them people.

I don’t doubt it.

Every cent of it.

Then people don’t stop to think how many of them people dies on us down there. We had a hundred and sixty-two last year, and that’s a average of more than three a week. Wintertime is the worst, account of so many of them bums getting committed.

They ought to send them bums to the county jail.

Jail is the place for them. I always did say so.

Time you figure it all up, Mr. Wade, it would cost the county ten thousand dollars a year just to bury them people.

And them nothing but paupers!

I tell you, Mr. Wade, I would be afraid for the grand jury to come down there if I had to tell them I was spending ten thousand dollars of the county’s money every year just to bury them people.

Seems to me like them people’s relations ought to bury some of them.

Them people’s relations that got burned up ain’t never heared tell of them after they died. Don’t even know they’re dead.

Who asked you to get into it? Mr. Wade is the chairman of the County Commissioners, and I would think a fellow that was in the county almshouse would have enough respect for him to shut up until somebody asked him to speak up.

I didn’t mean nothing, only I hear tell a lot of them people’s relations was looking for them.

You hear tell a plenty.

Well, I tell you how it is, Mr. Wade. It would seem like them people’s relations had ought to bury some of them, but I found out it don’t hardly pay to look them up. Half of them ain’t got money enough to have a funeral anyhow, and the other half you can’t find them.

I reckon that’s right.

Then it makes it bad in summer if you try to keep them people while you’re looking up their relations. You got to ice them, and that costs money.

They won’t keep long in summer.

The whole trouble is them people down in the lower end of the county. Seems like them people won’t ever listen to reason.

Yes, it’s them people down in the lower end of the county that makes it bad. They got a couple of preachers down there that want to be called in all the time, and then when they don’t get no business they put up a holler.

Then another thing I hear a lot of talk about, how they don’t never have no preacher called in. People dying all the time and they don’t never have no preacher.

Don’t that beat all, Mr. Wade? Say, how can you say them things to Mr. Wade, when you know Mr. Mukens is a preacher and you been hearing him preach every Sunday since you been down there?

Them people want a regular preacher!

And you know Mr. Mukens is a regular preacher, Baptist I think it is, a regular preacher with a license. Don’t you know that?

I never hear tell of it before.

Are you a reverend, Mr. Mukens? I declare, I never knowed that.

Not Baptist. Disciples of Christ.

Now that there just goes to show; Mr. Wade, how much of a kick these preachers is really got.

Of course, now, I’m for the Christian burial.

Why, certainly, Mr. Wade, everybody is for Christian burial. What I mean is, everybody is for putting them away Christian. Me, I don’t see no difference between burying them and cremating them, just so they get put away Christian. When I go, it don’t make no difference to me what they do with me, just so they say a Christian prayer over me, like of that.

Me neither.

Me neither.

When you go, which it wouldn’t hurt the county none if you went pretty quick, what difference does it make to you whether you get buried or what you call cremated?

I hear a lot of them say they don’t want to get burnt up.

Why? Just tell me that once.

Some of them is Seven Day Adventists.

How many of them is Seven Day Adventists?

There’s a whole lot of them Seven Day Adventists. I’m a Seven Day Adventist.

Is that right?

Well, it’s according as according. Sometimes more of them gets committed than other times.

That kind of makes it bad.

Yes, that’s a fact, Mr. Wade, I’ve kind of thought of that myself, that makes it bad. But I say, just because them people thinks they’re going to step out of the grave in a couple of years, that ain’t hardly no reason for the county to spend ten thousand dollars a year burying ’em. Maybe they’re going to step out of the grave and maybe they ain’t.

That there is something nobody can tell.

And then I hear a lot of talk going around, them people ain’t going to have no white gown.

There ain’t nothing to that, Mr. Wade. All them people gets a white gown. Ain’t no fancy gown, but we don’t put them away without no clothes on.

But the gown it gets burned up in that there furnace just like this here jawbone.

That jawbone didn’t get burned up. You got it in your hand.

I ain’t got the rest of that stiff in my hand. That I ain’t.

Is them preachers Seven Day Adventists?

I believe they are, Mr. Wade.

Them preachers is raising hell, too.

You been talking to them preachers, too, have you? First you talk to the paper men, then you talk to the preachers.

I never knowed they was paper men.

Them Seven Day Adventists makes it bad. Course, it don’t make no difference to me. I say if they get put away Christian, that’s all anybody could ask.

That’s all anybody could ask, Mr. Wade. And them people gets put away as Christian as I ever hope to get put away. Mr. Mukens prays over every one, and Mr. Mukens can put up as good a prayer as the next one, if you ask me. Even this man can tell you Mr. Mukens can put up a good prayer.

He prays pretty good, but he ain’t no regular preacher. Not what them people wants for a regular preacher. I hear a lot of talk going on about it.

What I’m figuring on is what to tell the County Commissioners. Them papers has stirred up such a fuss we got to take action on it.

Well, I tell you how it is, Mr. Wade, it don’t make no difference to me, one way or the other. Fact of the matter is, it’ll save me and Mr. Mukens a whole lot of work. It ain’t no light job, carrying them stiffs downstairs like we have to do. But what I say is, if the commissioners think them Seven Day Adventists had ought to be buried regular, why, just let the commissioners give me the money and I’ll bury them regular and put them other people away the way we been doing.

That seems to be perfectly fair and reasonable.

That there would certainly satisfy them people down in the lower end of the county. Them people is all Seven Day Adventists. What I’m thinking about is the other sections of the county. Maybe we’ll get ’em all stirred up.

I don’t think you would, Mr. Wade. When you come to these other people that gets committed, why, nobody don’t know what their religion is. They don’t know theirself.

Well, I guess we better do it that way then. I’ll call the commissioners in special meeting, and then we can stop all this fuss in the papers. Will you take this man back with you?

That I will, Mr. Wade. And thank you for the way you treated me in this here matter. I sure do appreciate it. Because what I say, when a man has done his duty like I have ever since I been down there, why, he kind of hates to see somebody come out and say he ain’t no account and ought to be run out, like of that. I sure do appreciate the way you done, Mr. Wade.

Mr. Wade, I just want to say that you treated me and Mr. Lerch white about this, and if there’s ever a time I can return the favor, why just let me know.

Thank you, sir, Mr. Wade, thank you, sir. And I never knowed them was paper men, Mr. Wade, I hope Christ may kill me if I did.

Good day, gentlemen.

Don’t Monkey with Uncle Sam

The Twentieth Century Limited. In the club car, as it draws near Chicago, sit three men, dressed in a blue suit, a brown suit, and a gray suit, staring out at the shore of Lake Michigan.

THE BLUE: Won’t be long now.

THE BROWN: About twenty minutes, if we’re on time. Great town.

THE BLUE: None like it.

THE BROWN: That’s right. Some of them knock Chicago, but there’s one thing they got to hand it: It’s not like any of the others.

THE BLUE: Look at that.

THE BROWN: Lake’s pretty, this time of year.

THE BLUE: I don’t mean the lake. Didn’t you see it? Old campaign poster. “Bill the Builder.” I swear, I don’t think I’ve thought of Bill Thompson in a year. Well, they come and they go.

THE BROWN: And specially here.

THE BLUE: And specially here. And specially here... Wonder what Capone’s doing now.

THE BROWN: Making little ones out of big ones.

THE BLUE: Stead of making dead ones out of live ones. Just the same, I say he got a raw deal.

THE BROWN: You and me both.

THE BLUE: I don’t claim Al was any better than he ought to be. And if they’d got him for some of the real stuff that he done, got him, you understand, even if it was in the chair, I’d say fine. I’d say fair enough, Al. You got it in the neck, where you give it to plenty of others, and things is square. But this income tax thing, I don’t buy that. Something wrong with it.

THE BROWN: Because look. It’s just like you had a kid. He steals a apple off the wop, and if you burnt his tail for that, it’s all right. But when you burn his tail for not coming home and giving you half the apple, what sense does that make? Why that’s nothing more or less than making yourself a partner in crime. When you’re going to get a man, get him right, I say. Don’t go sneaking up from behind and pull something that makes you a worse crook than he is.

THE BLUE: You hit it. Right on the head.

THE GRAY: H’m.

THE BLUE (detecting something in the Gray’s voice, and backing water hastily): Course it’s only one man’s opinion. If it was somebody that Al done something to, or maybe some of his friends, why—

THE GRAY (smiling affably): Oh no. Nothing like that. But I can easily see that you gentlemen don’t know a great deal about that case.

THE BLUE: You kind of got me there.

THE BROWN: Hold on now. A guy don’t have to be able to take a machine gun apart to understand a murder, and believe me it looks like the same thing here. No. All I know about the case is what come out in the papers, but there it is, just the same. You can’t get away from it. It’s here, in black and white.

THE GRAY: Boys, let me tell you something. On little stuff, stuff that nobody’s got time to fool with, anybody can make mistakes. But on big stuff, like this Capone case, the United States Government knows what it’s doing. It don’t make mistakes, and it can see a long way ahead.

THE BLUE: You with the Government?

THE GRAY: Department of Justice. Fact of the matter, I had a hand in the preparation of that case. I didn’t want any of it, but before they got through they had me in it, plenty.

THE BROWN: Funny how he pats that briefcase. I never seen a government guy pat a briefcase like that that I didn’t feel guilty of something.

THE GRAY: Ha-ha. Well, unless you stole a couple of railroads this stuff’ll never get you in any trouble.

THE BLUE: Go on with what you was saying.

THE GRAY: Oh yes, about Capone. Well now, what was this “real stuff” you wanted them to get him for?

THE BLUE: A few murders, for instance.

THE GRAY: Local authority. What else?

THE BROWN: Hold on. What was that?

THE GRAY: If he was guilty of murders, the Government has nothing to do with them. They were Chicago cases. Chicago and New York. That is, if you want to count that Brooklyn case before he came to Chicago. Government can’t touch them. What else?

THE BLUE: Why... I don’t know. Al had a hand in about every racket there was. Like... like—

THE BROWN: The milk racket. Wasn’t he in that?

THE GRAY: Local authority. What else?

THE BLUE: Well, now you’re asking me. I can’t—

THE GRAY: All right. Then I’ll tell you. The only thing the Government had on Capone was beer — outside this other. And so far as his rackets go, he only had one head and two hands and two feet, and I can tell you that most of those rackets were fairy tales. What caused the murders, what he made his money out of, what he kept a mob for, was beer. Of course, Al liked to think he was king of the earth, but when you come down to what he was king of, why it spelled B-E-E-R, and that’s all it spelled.

THE BROWN: Then what was stopping the Government for sending him up for beer stead of sending him up for not giving the Government a cut?

THE BLUE: Wait a minute. This guy has got a funny look in his eye. All right. I’ll bite. What was wrong with hanging it on him for beer?

THE GRAY: I’ll tell you. Suppose, now, they did hang it on him for beer. Suppose they got him on about five counts, and the court said consecutively, stead of concurrently, and he’s doing a stretch. He’s in for long. Now what?

THE BROWN: Well, he’s in.

THE GRAY: No he’s not. He’s out before the robins get their eggs hatched.

THE BLUE: How you figure that out?

THE GRAY: We’ve got beer, haven’t we? Or will have, any day now? Then what law did he break?

THE BROWN: The beer law. Anyway, the beer law that was.

THE GRAY: Oh, we’re not talking about the law that was. You want to keep a man in jail, you better put him there for breaking the law that is. What law, gents?

THE BLUE: You mean to tell me that soon as we got beer they’re going to let all them bootleggers out of jail?

THE GRAY: The beer bootleggers. And Capone, remember, ran beer. Soon as we get repeal, then they let all the bootleggers out.

THE BROWN: Something wrong about that. Believe me, you’ll wait a while for that. That’s one of those things that just don’t happen.

THE GRAY: It has happened.

THE BLUE: Where?

THE GRAY: For one place, California. Soon as they repealed the Wright Act out there, they had to pardon the bootleggers. Nothing else to do.

THE BROWN: In California? You mean California did that?

THE GRAY: Listen, suppose you’re a bootlegger in jail for selling liquor. They repeal the law. What do you do now? You get yourself habeas corpused into court, and you ask the court, What law did I break? And the court will turn you loose. Because that’s one principle of law that’s written right into the Constitution of the United States. You can’t put a man in jail for doing something that wasn’t against the law until after he did it, and you can’t keep him there for doing something that’s not against the law now. So the Executive branch saves the courts the trouble, that’s all.

THE BROWN: Well say, I never thought about that.

THE BLUE: Me neither.

THE GRAY: But this baby, this Capone now, this killer that ought to been fried in the chair twenty times before the Government stepped in to settle his hash — he stays. See? Oh yes. When the United States government gets ready to settle your hash, and not just play papa spank, why your hash is cooked, and it stays cooked for a while. Don’t ever fool with your Uncle Sam. You’re just monkeying with the buzz saw.

All sit for a few moments, in silent admiration for the serpentine wisdom of the federal authority. The porter appears and rubs their shoes. They rise.

THE BLUE: He gets out when they repeal the Income Tax Law. Is that it?

THE GRAY: That’s it.

THE BROWN: Haw-haw-haw-haw!

ALL: Haw-haw-haw-haw-haw-haw-haw-haw!