JOE EVERTSON — JOE EVERTSON AND THE FOOL BOY — GARDNER'S HEROIC EFFORT — TIGER BILL — AN INTELLIGENT JURY — A DEFENDANT WHO LIED — THE COLONEL'S STRATAGEM — A GAME OF POOL — THE COLONEL AND DAN — MISTAKEN IDENTITY.

Many humorous incidents have occurred in the experience of the bar in Butler county, but most, if not all of them, must have been seen and heard to be fully appreciated. They lose half their interest in being told. For instance, no more amusing event occurred in the courts of Butler county than Mike Murphy's lawsuit over the horse he had bought.

To appreciate the story one must have seen Mike, who was a true son of Erin, have seen his quaint dress, his grotesque figure, his rich brogue and quaint expression. You must have seen him turn square around in his chair and face the judge and with many gestures say,

"Well, Mis-ter Jackson, it were this wa-y." You must then have heard him explain to the judge that the horse that he bought was unsound, and explain to the judge wherein the horse was unsound. You must have seen his look of surprise and digust[sic] when the case was decided against him. You must have seen him indignantly stride from the court room repeating again and again. "It's n-o fa-ir, Mis-ter Jackson, its n-o fa-ir." You must have seen him as he left the court room, return once more to the door and shout back at the judge, "It's n-o fa-ir, Mis-ter Jackson."

JOE EVERTSON.

Joe Evertson, in the early days, lived on the Little Walnut. He was continually quarreling with his neighbors. He was a good friend to the lawyer. He thrived on lawsuits. Seldom was there a term of court when he did not appear as plaintiff or defendant, or both, in several legal tilts. He kept the justice of the peace of his township busy in the meantime.

One time court convened. The judge arrived from Wichita, took off his coat and hat, proceeded to his desk, looked gravely over the court room and said, "Is Joe Evertson here?" Someone replied that Joe was in town and on his way to the court room. His honor then gravely said, "Well, then, Mr. Sheriff, you can open court."

JOE EVERTSON AND THE FOOL BOY.

In Joe's numerous lawsuits he employed, discharged and re-employed, in turn, most of the lawyers in the county. For a while George Gardner was his dependence. George's business called him from home more or less and he had a boy lawyer in his office who opened his mail for him and looked after his affairs in his absence. One morning the young lawyer, in the discharge of his duties, opened a letter from Joe, wherein Joe informed George that he had an important lawsuit on hand before a justice of the peace in Leon. He explained the situation and asked George to be on hand fully equipped and ready for a fight. He wound up by saying, "Don't send that fool boy of your's; I can do better than he can myself."

GARDNER'S HEROIC EFFORT.

Speaking of George Gardner, who is now dead and gone, will recall the fact to all who knew him that he was one of the most powerful advocates that ever addressed a court or jury. We believe that no other lawyer who ever practiced in Butler county, or in the State of Kansas as to that matter, was his superior as a trial lawyer. Part of his success was due to his earnestness and the faith that he always had in his cause. George would not take a case where he believed his client was not in the right, but George could never be made to believe that his client was rnot right. It was said of him that he could not salt a gold mine and sell it to some one else, for before he got through with the job he would be so enthused in his enterprise that he would believe in the genuineness of the mine himself and refuse to sell it at any price.

Well, George had won a verdict in a hard fought battle. A motion was made by the attorneys on the other side for a new trial. The court called the motion for hearing. George asked to be excused until he could go to his office and bring his authorities. No sooner had he retired for that purpose than the attorney on the other side said to the court that he had come to the conclusion that there was nothing in his motion and that he would withdraw it. The judge, finding nothing else to do adjourned court for the term, just after which George returned into court, staggering under the weight of a load of law books he was carrying. The judge, who had not yet retired from the bench, with a sly wink at the rest of the lawyers, said, "I have grave doubts about this verdict I do not believe it is necessary for the other side to say any-

thing, but unless Mr. Gardner can convince me that the verdict should be upheld I will have to sustain a motion for a new trial." This surprised George, but did not daunt him. He opened one authority after another. He talked long and loud and earnestly. He expounded and re-expounded, but the judge was very hard to convince. He kept finding fault with the authorities that George produced and said they were not in point. He could not see the application which George strove to make him see, and finally, after talking for at least an hour, with the perspiration rolling from him in great beads, completely exhausted and hoarse from talking loud and earnestly, George sat down in disgust. The laugh that followed George's effort did not cease until George "set them up" to judge, lawyers, clerk, sheriff and everybody else.

TIGER BILL.

W. P. Campbell, a lawyer who came to El Dorado in the early days, was appointed by the Governor, judge of the new district. While on the bench he acquired the name of Tiger Bill, how or why it is not necessary to consider, but he was some judge, and whatever other faults he may have had, his worst enemy never called him a coward either in a legal battle or in a physical contest. One day when he was presiding during a session of court at El Dorado, a jury brought in a verdict which very much displeased him. He turned to the jury and informed them that the life, liberty and property of the citizens of the county were not safe in their hands; that they were discharged for the term, and that he hoped to never see any of them again. Naturally, the jurors did not like this. They went down to the front door of the court house and resolved that the judge should see them again; that they would wait until he came out and make it hot for him. The sheriff overheard the mutterings of the jury, and in order to avoid bloodshed and keep the judge from being lynched, went to him privately and gave him a hint as to what was going on, and told him to remain in the court room until the jurors had dispersed. But that was not Tiger Bill. He gave a snort, stuffed his hands in his pockets, walked deliberately down out among the jurors, paced up and down in front of the court house in their full view and within easy striking distance, looked them square in the face and waited for the attack, but it was never made.

AN INTELLIGENT JURY.

It was during Tiger Bill's term as judge that the jury found a defendant charged with stealing hogs not guilty, and the foreman gravely arose and asked the court if he might say a word or two to the defendant. Having obtained permission, he, in the name of the jury, gravely advised the defendant not to steal any more hogs.

A DEFENDANT WHO LIED.

A man was once charged with stealing hogs. On his trial, which occurred at El Dorado, several people swore that he had admitted that he stole the hogs; in fact, had boasted of it, but there was a great deal of prejudice against the prosecuting witness. The attorney for the defendant appealed to the prejudice of the jury for sympathy for the defendant's family, and in turn grew livid with hate when he spoke of the prosecuting witness and shed crocodile tears when he pleaded for the defendant, and the jury returned a verdict of not guilty. The defendant then said, "'Well, I always thought I stole those hogs. I said I stole them, several people testified that I said I stole them, but twelve good citizens of this county have said that I did not, so I have come to the conclusion that I must have lied about it.

THE COLONEL'S STRATAGEM.

One of the old time lawyers in Butler county was Col. Henry T. Sumner. He did not spend a great deal of time burning the midnight oil or pour over miserable books, but his forensic powers were not to be despised. The colonel had taken a claim down in Spring township close to the banks of the Walnut. He lived on his claim and practiced law occasionally in El Dorado. Now the worst sin of the colonel was that he imbibed too freely, and as his credit was not always of the best he sometimes, in order to satisfy his appetite, resorted to strategem. One morning as the colonel strode along the banks of the Walnut he observed the judge and Bent and Marsh in a boat yanking the bass from the waters. The colonel knew that the trio were prudent and careful men. He knew they would not risk themselves upon the dangerous waters of the Walnut without being supplied with a liberal supply of antidote for snake bite. He further knew that the brand of Skalavanacus used by them was of the best, and the colonel was powerfully dry, for, as the Governor of North Carolina said to the Governor of South Carolina, "It has been a long time between drinks." So he threw out hint after hint and refused to depart. Now, the trio were not by any means dull or stupid. They understood the colonel's hint; and neither were they tightwads, but they knew the colonel's failing and they did not want to have one plain drunk charged up against them, so they continued to fish, but did not offer the colonel a drink. Finally the colonel said, "Do you fellows want a drink of whiskey?" The solution of this difficult question was now easy. "No, thank you, colonel, we have some," to which the colonel replied, "That is just what I thought; now, I haven't a drop." He got his drink.

THE COLONEL AND IVERSON.

Another character of El Dorado was Iverson Williams, an old colored man, an ex-slave. He was by no means a fool, and had learned enough of the white man's ways to let his wife own the property while he owed the debts. He lived in a little cabin near the old Christian church that is now used as an office by C. A. Aikman in his grain business. Now, this cabin of Iverson's was a low structure and could not have been reached by lightning if the lightning had wanted to strike it, on account of the taller buildings near it, but a slick lightning rod agent persuaded Iverson that his property and family were in great danger, and that the only way to protect them was to rod the cabin thoroughly. Iverson agreed and the agent with his men proceeded to literally weight it down with rods and cause it to bristle like a porcupine with bright, shining points pointing heavenward. It certainly looked fine and Iverson was much pleased until the bill was presented. The amount of the bill was about equal to the value of the cabin with the ground on which it stood. The agent would not be put off, but insisted on being paid at once and made all sorts of dire threats as to what he would do if the bill was not paid. Iverson in great distresss[sic] went up town, where he chanced to meet Colonel Sumner. He laid his case before the colonel, and after the colonel had given the matter a few moments' consideration the following dialogue took place:

The Colonel: Say, that property is in your wife's name, isn't it?

Iverson: Yes, sah.

The Colonel: Did your wife authorize you to contract for the lightning rods?

Iverson: No, sah.

The Colonel: Go back to the lightning rod agent; it does not make any difference what he says, just say to him, "My wife never authorized me to make that contract."

Iverson followed the colonel's advice, and to all the threats and demands of the agent he replied, "My wife never authorized me, my wife never authorized me." The agent finally undersood[sic] that Iverson had come out best and went away, leaving Iverson and his family undisturbed in their cabin and protected from the bolts of lightning by the aforesaid rods and points. A short time after that the colonel, who was hard up as usual, went to Iverson and asked him for the sum of $10 for his services. Iverson scratched his head, studied a few moments and looked up at the colonel, with a twinkle in his eye. "Colonel, my wife never authorized me to employ you."

A GAME OF POOL.

It was during the famous Jessie Morrison trial. Two lawyers on opposite sides of that famous case went to Missouri to take depositions. When they arrived at their place of destination, a small village, they hunted in vain for a notary public before whom they could take their depositions. The Missourians did not know where there was any notary public; in fact, did not know what such a critter was, but further inquiry resulted in a discovery that old Squire Smith lived about a mile and a half in the country, so the attorneys, taking their witnesses with them, proceeded to the residence of Squire Smith to have their depositions taken. Squire Smith was found to be an old man, an ex-Confederate soldier, full of talk and reminiscences and very much interested in the Jessie Morrison case, the reports of which in the paper he had read with great interest. The depositions were duly taken, and the squire noticed from the address on the envelope that the depositions were to be sent to El Dorado, Kan. He at once plied the attorneys with questions concerning the Jessie Morrison case. He returned to the village with them and insisted on introducing them to all the prominent citizens, telling all of the aforesaid prominent citizens of their connection with the famous Jessie Morrison case. After the attorneys had been introduced to almost everyone in the village, finding that the train was late and that they still had an hour or more time to kill, they went to a pool room and engaged in a game of pool. The squire declined their invitation to join them, but sat on a bench watching them and told all newcomers who they were and what they were doing, and never forgetting to mention that they were attorneys in the Jessie Morrison case. Finally an old-timer came in and sat down by the squire and slapped him on the back and asked him if there was anything new, to which the squire replied that he had been taking depositions in a lawsuit that was to be tried in El Dorado, Kan., the place where the famous Jessie Morrison case was being tried; that the lawyers who had been taking depositions before him were attorneys in the famous Jessie Morrison case. He pointed to the aforesaid lawyers where they were engaged in their game of pool and said, "That strong, straight, handsome fellow is one of the attorneys for the prosecution; that tall, slender fellow that is playing with him is one of Jessie Morrison's lawyers." Now, these lawyers had devoted a great deal more time to studying Blackstone, Chitty, etc., than to playing pool, and their efforts in the latter game were rather amusing to the old time players who were watching them; and just as the squire had finished his remark the attorney for Jessie Morrison made a play that was anything but brilliant. He made a dive for the cue ball, missed it and knocked two or three others off the table onto the floor, when the Missourian to whom the squire had been talking to said, "Well, all I've got to say is that if he is not a darn sight better lawyer than he is a pool player, Lord pitty Jessie Morrison."

THE COLONEL AND DAN.

Dan Bronson was a lawyer in the early days of El Dorado, but he did not allow the practice of law to interfere with his "legitimate business." His "legitimate business" was abstracting, real estate and insurance. One day Colonel Sumner called at his office to put through a deal that he was anxious to make. Dan told him he would submit the proposition to his client in the East. The colonel insisted that Dan should then and there write a letter to the aforesaid client. Dan took his pen in hand to do so (that was before the days of stenographers; there perhaps was not a lawyer in the town whose business amounted to as much as the salary of a stenographer). Now, the colonel was a little bit suspicious that Dan might not sufficiently urge his acceptance of the proposition, so as Dan was writing he quietly tiptoed to Dan's back and looked over his shoulder to see what he was writing. Dan pretended to be all unconscious of this and finally wound up his letter with this statement: "I would say more to you, but there is a — — son of gun standing over my shoulder reading every word I write you, so I cannot say any more."

MISTAKEN IDENTITY.

A young El Dorado attorney had just been admitted to the bar. Court was in session. He was sitting inside the bar hoping to get a case and afraid that he would get one. Finally the case of John Doe, charged with boot-legging whiskey, was called. John Doe did not have any attorney or any money, with which to employ one. The court looked over the court room and announced to the young attorney that he would be required to defend John Doe. John Doe also glanced at the young lawyer and his heart sank within him. He thought seriously of changing his plea of not guilty to one of guilty and begin serving his sentence and getting it over with. A smile passed around the court room and some of the older lawyers remarked that John Doe was sure to be convicted anyway and the young lawyer might as well practice on him an any one. It was announced that John Doe's case would be called the following morning, and he was to be ready for trial. The young lawyer realized the gravity of the situation, and then he would have given a fortune, had he possessed it, if he had never read law, and another fortune if he could only clear John Doe and turn the laugh on the other fellows. He examined the indictment and found that John Doe was charged with having sold liquor to Alex Blair. The lawyer talked with Alex. Alex said he had bought whiskey of the man he had never seen him before the time, but was sure he would know him if he should ever see him. He said the fellow wore long hair, a short beard and wore a snuff colored coat. The lawyer went to the jail to examine his client minutely and found that the description tallied, and

that the snuff coat, long haid[sic] and beard were in evidence. He thought long and earnestly. That evening he told the undershiriff,[sic] now dead and gone, who had charge of the jail, that if he ever had a chance to favor him, the aforesaid lawyer, now was the time. He pledged his sacred word of honor and professional integrity that if the prisoner, John Doe, was intrusted to him for two or three hours in the night that he would be returned safe and sound. The request was granted. The lawyer had a particular friend, a barber, who was told to keep his shop dark that night, but to have the back door open. The snuff colored coat was exchanged for one of a very different hue and make. Next morning when the State vs. John Doe was called, as the defendant sat beside his attorney, clad in a coat of black, with his hair cut short and minus a beard, a jury was duly impaneled. Alex was called to the stand and asked to point out the man of whom he had bought the whiskey; he said he could not see him. His attention was directed to the defendant, and he swore he had never seen him before in his life. Verdict: Not guilty.

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