Part VI
“As I live in my cage…”
The Circuit Court Clerk, Mr. Hamblin Claude, called “Ham” by his best of friends, was standing at the counter in his office sorting through some of the stacks of documents that accumulated every time a Grand Jury met. Despite the gravity and seriousness he dedicated to his position, it amused him at times to read some of the attempts to gain indictment or court attention. People would complain about the smallest and most insignificant issues, all the while feeling that they held the enormity of a pitched battle.
His reading through a document, in which a gentleman living on one end of a road complaining about the braying of the coon hound of a man living on the other end of a road which resulted in the party of the first part stealing and abandoning the animal belonging to the party of the second part, and so on and so on and so on – was interrupted by the jingling of the small brass bell over the office door. The local mail carrier and gossip monger entered the office with a broad smile across his clean shaven face.
“Mornin’ Mr. Claude,” the mailman greeted the Clerk.
“Good morning Jack! I didn’t recognize you without that growth that was attached to your chin. Did your pet squirrel give up hope and abandon you?”
The mailman laughed. He had worn a beard ever since he’d been able to grow one. It was a regular point of contention with the local Post Master and the uniform regulations of the U. S. Postal Service. Jack always swore that as long as he was required to wear boots as if he was still on the pony express he would wear a beard as well. He also believed it was a matter of jealousy that no one he worked with could possibly grow as thick and luxurious of a beard as he could.
“You got them to ease up on the boot requirements?”
Jack smiled broadly and flushed a little. “No, they didn’t. I’m still working on that.”
“But you shaved your beard. How did you manage to do that?”
“Uh, well, I met a woman…”
“Aha,” The clerk interrupted, “I knew it! Only a woman can do what the federal government can’t!”
Jack laughed agreeably and handed the clerk an envelope. “He’s a letter for you Mr. Claude. It’s addressed to you this time, instead of the Judge.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lately whenever this fellow sent a letter, it was for the Judge.”
“You’re pretty observant aren’t you?”
“I am always community aware.”
“I call it nosey!” Mr. Claude laughed with the mailman. “How do we know you’re not a spy for old Adolph Shickelgruber himself?” The reference to Adolph Hitler was commonplace and a joke among friends. The postal carriers in the area were always up on the latest gossip.
“Have a good day,” he said jovially and strolled out the door.
“You too Jack,” offered Mr. Claude as he waved him out.
Claude’s assistant came into the office, brushing past the mailman as he left.
“Who’s the new carrier?” She asked.
“That’s not a new one. That’s Jack.”
She wolf-whistled and looked out the door after him, “He should have shaved long ago!”
“Easy girl, your Henry might not take a shine to you whistling at the post man.”
“I think it’s time for Henry to shave his beard too,” she commented as she walked off with a stack of papers in hand.
Mr. Claude returned to his desk, turning the envelope over in his hands. It wasn’t often that he received mail addressed specifically to him. Usually it was an “in care of” or “please file or forward to” type of mailing.
He never received personal mail at home either and his wife was always upset with everyone beginning to get telephones in their homes, no one wrote letters anymore. If it weren’t for her recipe mailing circles and pen pals, she would go stir crazy. He knew, however, at some point she would want a telephone in their home as well.
He opened the envelope with an ivory handled letter opener. “So what do we have here?” He unfolded the document realizing that it was a letter as much as a legal document.
“My dear Mr. Claude, In the State of Tennessee versus Eldred Hardin; murder sentence of 99 years, I have decided to withdraw my motion for a new trial, and if you please, kindly deliver the letter enclosed to the honorable Judge, to him which is a letter to the same effect.”
The Clerk withdrew the enclosure, seeing it was as described, a withdrawal of a motion for a new trial.
“I have left there a Wayside Bill of Exceptions to be signed by the Judge and I think I will recall that also, and unless you wish to keep it for your files, you may send it to me.”
He looked at that enclosure as well, making sure it was also the same document described.
“Well that crafty devil. He withdrew the motion for a retrial and preserved it for appeal all at once.” The Clerk knew that this filing’s purpose was to put in permanent form and bring into the record, anything that went on during the trial but was not part of the permanent trial record. It was a magnificent tool when going to a higher court for appeal of a case.
“Find also enclosed the list of the jurors who sat on the case and please place their post-office addresses opposite their names and mail same to me, in enclosed stamped and addressed envelope.”
“Everybody in the Court House and those citizens I had the pleasure of meeting, showed rare cordiality to me and I want to thank you for your very kind and considerate treatment in every way. Remember me to all of the Court House Ring; they are all very fine gentlemen. I trust I will have the pleasure of seeing you sometime and if you need any favors here, command me, and it will be a pleasure.”
“With the season’s greetings and thanking you, I remain yours truly - Jesse W. Sparkman.”
Turnbull: Based on a True Story Page 7
