Traffic in Souls: A Novel of Crime and Its Cure

by Eustace Hale Ball

  CHAPTER IV

  WHAT THE DOCTOR SAID

  Officer Bobbie Burke found the case at the Men's Night Court to be lessdifficult than his experience with Dutch Annie and her "friend." Themagistrate disregarded the pleading of Alderman Kelly to show the"law-abiding" Morgan any leniency. The man was quickly bound over forinvestigation by the Grand Jury, upon the representations of CaptainSawyer, who went in person to look after the matter.

  "This man will bear a strict investigation, Mr. Kelly, and I propose tohold him without bail until the session to-morrow. Your arguments areof no avail. We have had too much talk and too little actual resultson this trafficking and cocaine business, and I will do what I can toprevent further delays."

  "But, your honor, how about this brutal policeman?" began Kelly, on anew tack. "Assaulting a peaceful citizen is a serious matter, and I amprepared to bring charges."

  "Bring any you want," curtly said the magistrate. "The officer wasfully justified. If night-sticks instead of political pull were usedon these gun-men our politics would be cleaner and our city would notbe the laughing-stock of the rest of the country. Officer Burke, keepup your good work, and clean out the district if you can. We need moreof it."

  Burke stepped down from the stand, embarrassed but happy, for it was asatisfaction to know that there were some defenders of the police. Heespied Jimmie the Monk sitting with some of his associates in the rearof the room, but this time he was prepared for trouble, as he left.Consequently, there was none.

  When he returned to the station house he was too tired to return to hisroom in the boarding-house where he lodged, but took advantage of theproximity of a cot in the dormitory for the reserves.

  Next day he was so white and fagged from the hard duty that CaptainSawyer called up Doctor MacFarland, the police surgeon for the precinct.

  When the old Scotchman came over he examined. Burke carefully andshook his head sternly.

  "Young man," said he, "if you want to continue on this work, rememberthat you have just come back from a hospital. There has been a badshock to your nerves, and if you overdo yourself you will have sometrouble with that head again. You had better ask the Captain for alittle time off--take it easy this next day or two and don't pick anymore fights."

  "I'm not hunting for trouble, doctor. But, you know, I do get a queerfeeling--maybe it is in my head, from that brick, but it feels in myheart--whenever I see one of these low scoundrels who live on themisery of their women. This Jimmie the Monk is one of the worst I haveever met, and I can't rest easy until I see him landed behind the bars."

  "There is no greater curse to our modern civilization than the work ofthese men, Burke. It is not so much the terrible lives of the womenwhom they enslave; it is the disease which is scattered broadcast, andcarried into the homes of working-men, to be handed to virtuous andunsuspecting wives, and by heredity to innocent children, visiting, asthe Bible says, 'the iniquities of the fathers unto the third and thefourth generation.'"

  The old doctor sat down dejectedly and rested his chin on his hand, ashe sat talking to Burke in the rear room of the station house.

  "Doctor, I've heard a great deal about the white slave traffic, asevery one who keeps his ears open in the big city must. Do you thinkthe reports are exaggerated?"

  "No, my boy. I've been practicing medicine and surgery in New York forforty years. When I came over here from Scotland the city was nobetter than it should have been. But it was an _American_ citythen--not an 'international melting pot,' as the parlor sociologistsproudly call it. The social evil is the oldest profession in theworld; it began when one primitive man wanted that which he could notwin with love, so he offered a bribe. And the bribe was taken, whetherit was a carved amulet or a morsel of game, or a new fashion in furs.And the woman who took it realized that she could escape the drudgeryof the other women, could obtain more bribes for her loveless barter... and so it has grown down through the ages."

  The old Scotchman lit his pipe.

  "I've read hundreds of medical books, and I've had thousands of casesin real life which have taught me more than my medical books. WhatI've learned has not made me any happier, either. Knowledge doesn'tbring you peace of mind on a subject like this. It shows you how muchgreed and wickedness and misery there are in the world."

  "But, doctor, do you think this white slave traffic is a newdevelopment? We've only heard about it for the last two or threeyears, haven't we?"

  The physician nodded.

  "Yes, but it's been there in one form or another. It caused the ruinof the Roman Empire; it brought the downfall of mediaeval Europe, andwhenever a splendid civilization springs up the curse of sex-bondage inone form or another grows with it like a cancer."

  "But medicine is learning to cure the cancer. Can't it help cure this?"

  "We are getting near the cure for cancer, maybe near the cure for thiscancer as well. Sex-bondage was the great curse of negro slavery inthe United States; it was the thing which brought misery on the South,in the carpet-bag days, as a retribution for the sins of the fathers.We cured that and the South is bigger and better for that terriblesurgical operation than it ever was before. But this latestdevelopment--organized capture of ignorant, weak, pretty girls, to beheld in slavery by one man or by a band of men and a few debauched oldhags, is comparatively a new thing in America. It has been caused bythe swarms of ignorant emigrants, by the demand of the lowest classesof those emigrants and the Americans they influence for a satisfactionof their lust. It is made easy by the crass ignorance of the countrygirls, the emigrant girls, and by the drudgery and misery of theworking girls in the big cities."

  "I saw two cases in Night Court, Doc, which explained a whole lot tome--drunken fathers and brutal husbands who poisoned their ownwives--it taught that not all the blame rests upon the weakness of thewomen."

  "Of course it doesn't," exclaimed MacFarland impetuously. "It restsupon Nature, and the way our boasted Society is mistreating Nature.Woman is weaker than man when it comes to brute force; you know it isforce which does rule the world when you do get down to it, ingovernment, in property, in business, in education--it is all survivalof the strongest, not always of the fittest. A woman should be in thehome; she can raise babies, for which Nature intended her. She canrule the world through her children, but when she gets out to fighthand to hand with man in the work-world she is outclassed. She can'tstand the physical strain thirty days in the month; she can't stand thestarvation, the mistreatment, the battling that a man gets in theworld. She needs tenderness and care, for you know every normal womanis a mother-to-be--and that is the most wonderful thing in the world,the most beautiful. When the woman comes up against the stone wall ofcompetition with men her weakness asserts itself. That's why goodwomen fall. It's not the 'easiest way'--it's just forced upon them.As for the naturally bad women--well, that has come from some trait ofanother generation, some weakness which has been increased instead ofcured by all this twisted, tangled thing we call modern civilization."

  The doctor sighed.

  "There are a lot of women in the world right now, Burke, who arefighting for what they call the 'Feminist Movement'. They don't wanthomes; they want men's jobs. They don't want to raise their babies inthe old-fashioned way; they want the State to raise them with trainednurses and breakfast food. They don't see anything beautiful in homelife, and cooking, and loving their husbands. They want the lectureplatform (and the gate-receipts); they want to run the government, theywant men to be breeders, like the drones in the beehive, and they don'twant to be tied to one man for life. They want to visit around. Theworst of it is that they are clever, they write well, they talk well,and they interest the women who are really normal, who only half-read,only half-analyze, and only get a part of the idea! These normal womenare devoting, as they should, most of their energies to the normalthings of woman life--children, home, charity, and neighborliness. Butthe clever feminist revolutionists are giving them just enough argument
to make them dissatisfied. They flatter the domestic woman by tellingher she is not enough appreciated, and that she should control thecountry. They lead the younger women away from the old ideals of loveand home and religion; in their place they would substituteselfishness, loose morals, and will change the chivalry, which it hastaken men a thousand years to cultivate, into brutal methods, when menrealize that women want absolute equality. Then, should such acondition ever be accepted by society in general, we will do away withthe present kind of social evil--to have a tidal wave of lust."

  Bobbie listened with interest. It was evident that Doctor MacFarlandwas opening up a subject close to his heart. The old man's eyessparkled as he continued.

  "You asked about the traffic in women, as we hear of it in New York.Well, the only way we can cure it is to educate the men of all classesso that for reasons moral, sanitary, and feelings of honest pride inthemselves they will not patronize the market where souls are sought.This can't be done by passing laws, but by better books, better ways ofamusement, better living conditions for working people, so that theywill not be 'driven to drink' and what follows it to forget theirtroubles. Better factories and kinder treatment to the great number ofworkmen, with fairer wage scale would bring nearer the possibility ofmarriage--which takes not one, but two people out of the danger of thegutter. Minimum wage scales and protection of working women would makethe condition of their lives better, so that they would not be forcedinto the streets and brothels to make their livings.

  "Why, Burke, a magistrate who sits in Night Court has told me thatmedical investigation of the street-walkers he has sentenced revealedthe fact that nine of every ten were diseased. When the men whofoolishly think they are good 'sports' by debauching with these womenlearn that they are throwing away the health of their wives andchildren to come, as well as risking the contagion of diseases whichcan only be bottled up by medical treatment but never completely cured;when it gets down to the question of men buying and selling these poorwomen as they undoubtedly do, the only way to check that is for everydecent man in the country to help in the fight. It is a man evil; menmust slay it. Every procurer in the country should be sent to prison,and every house of ill fame should be closed."

  "Don't you think the traffic would go on just the same, doctor? I haveheard it said that in European cities the authorities confined suchwomen to certain parts of the city. Then they are subjected to medicalexamination as well."

  "No, Burke, segregation will not cure it. Many of the cities abroadhave given that up. The medical examinations are no true test, forthey are only partially carried out--not all the women will admit theirsinful ways of life, nor submit to control by the government. Thesystem prevails in Paris and in Germany, and there is more diseasethere than in any other part of Europe. Men, depending upon theimaginary security of a doctor's examination card, abandon themselvesthe more readily, and caution is thrown to the winds, with the resultthat a woman who has been O.K.'d by a government physician one day maycontract a disease and spread it the very next day. You can dependupon it that if she has done so she will evade the examination nexttime in order not to interfere with her trade profits. So, there youare. This is an ugly theme, but we must treat it scientifically.

  "You know it used to be considered vulgar to talk about the stomach andother organs which God gave us for the maintenance of life. But whenfolks began to realize that two-thirds of the sickness in the world,contagious and otherwise, resulted from trouble with the stomach, thatfalse modesty had to give way. Consequently to-day we have fewerepidemics, much better general health, because men and women understandhow to cure many of their own ailments with prompt action and simplemethods.

  "The vice problem is one which reaps its richest harvest when it isprotected from the sunlight. Sewers are not pleasant table-talk, butthey must be watched and attended by scientific sanitary engineers. Acancer of the intestines is disagreeable to think about. But when itthreatens a patient's life the patient should know the truth and thedoctor should operate. Modern society is the patient, anddeath-dealing sex crimes are the cancerous growth, which must beoperated upon. Whenever we allow a neighborhood to maintain houses ofprostitution, thus regulating and in a way sanctioning the evil, we aregranting a sort of corporation charter for an industry which is runupon business methods. And business, you know, is based upon fillingthe 'demand,' with the necessary 'supply.' And the manufacturers, inthis case, are the procurers and the proprietresses of these houses.There comes in the business of recruiting--and hence the traffic insouls, as it has aptly been called. No, my boy, government regulationwill never serve man, nor woman, for it cannot cover all the ground.As long as women are reckless, lazy and greedy, yielding to temporary,half-pleasant sin rather than live by work, you will find men with lowideals in all ranks of life who prefer such illicit 'fun' to thesweetness of wedlock! Why, Burke, sex is the most beautiful thing inthe world--it puts the blossoms on the trees, it colors thebutterflies' wings, it sweetens the songs of the birds, and it shouldmake life worth living for the worker in the trench, the factory hand,the office toiler and the millionaire. But it will never do so untilpeople understand it, know how to guard it with decent knowledge, andsanctify it morally and hygienically."

  The old doctor rose and knocked the ashes out of his briar pipe. Helooked at the eager face of the young officer.

  "But there, I'm getting old, for I yield to the melody of my own voicetoo much. I've got office hours, you know, and I'd better get back tomy pillboxes. Just excuse an old man who is too talkative sometimes,but remember that what I've said to you is not my own old-fashionednotion, but a little boiled-down philosophy from the writings of thegreatest modern scientists."

  "Good-bye, Doctor MacFarland. I'll not forget it. It has answered alot of questions in my mind."

  Bobbie went to the front door of the station house with the oldgentleman, and saluted as a farewell.

  "What's he been chinning to you about, Burke?" queried the Captain."Some of his ideas of reforming the world? He's a great old character,is Doc."

  "I think he knows a lot more about religion than a good many ministersI've heard," replied Bobbie. "He ought to talk to a few of them."

  "Sure. But they wouldn't listen if he did. They're too busy gettingmoney to send to the heathens in China, and the niggers in Africa tobother about the heathens and poor devils here. I'm pretty strong forDoc MacFarland, even though I don't get all he's talking about."

  "Say, Burke, the Doc got after me one day and gave me a string of booksas long as your arm to read," put in Dexter. "He seems to think a copought to have as much time to read as a college boy!"

  "You let me have the list, Dexter, and I'll coach you up on it,"laughed Burke.

  "To-day is your relief, Burke," said the Captain. "You can go up tothe library and wallow in literature if you want to."

  Burke smiled, as he retorted:

  "I'm going to a better place to do my reading--and not out of bookseither, Cap."

  He changed his clothes, and soon emerged in civilian garb. He hadnever paid his call on John Barton, although he had been out of thehospital for several days. The old man's frequent visits to him in hisprivate room at the hospital, after that first memorable meeting, hadripened their friendship. Barton had told him of a number of new ideasin electrical appliances, and Burke was anxious to see what progresshad been made since the old fellow returned to his home.

  Officer 4434 was also anxious to see another member of his family, andso it was with a curious little thrill of excitement, well concealed,however, with which he entered the modest apartment of the Bartons'that evening.

  "Well, well, well!" exclaimed the old man, as the young officer tookhis hand. "We thought you had forgotten us completely. Mary has askedme several times if you had been up to see me. I suppose you have beenbusy with those gangsters, and keep pretty close since you returned toactive service."

  Bobbie nodded.

  "Yes, sir. They are
always with us, you know. And a policeman doesnot have very much time to himself, particularly if he lolls around inbed with a throb in the back of the head, during his off hours, as I'vebeen foolish enough to do."

  "Oh, how are you feeling, Mr. Burke?" exclaimed Mary, as she enteredfrom the rear room.

  She held out her hand, and Bobbie trembled a trifle as he took hersoft, warm fingers in his own.

  "I'm improving, and don't believe I was ever laid up--it was justimagination on my part," answered Burke. "But I have a faded rose tomake me remember that some of it was a pleasant imagination, at anyrate."

  Mary laughed softly, and dropped her eyes ever so slightly. But theaction betrayed that she had not forgotten either.

  Old Barton busied himself with some papers on a table by the side ofhis wheel-chair, for he was a diplomat.

  "Well, now, Mr. Burke--what are your adventures? I read every day ofsome policeman jumping off a dock in the East River to rescue asuicide, or dragging twenty people out of a burning tenement, and amafraid that it's you. It's all right to be a hero, you know, butthere's a great deal of truth in that old saying about it being betterto have people remark, 'There he goes,' than 'Doesn't he look natural.'"

  Bobbie took the comfortable armchair which Mary drew up.

  "I haven't had anything really worth while telling about," said Burke."I see a lot of sad things, and it makes a man feel as though he were apoor thing not to be able to improve conditions."

  "That's true of every walk in life. But most people don't look at thesad any longer than they can help. I've not been having a very jollytime of it myself, but I hope for a lot of good news before long. Whydon't you bring Lorna in to meet Mr. Burke, Mary?"

  The girl excused herself, and retired.

  "How are your patents?" asked Bobbie, with interest. "I hope you canshow tricks to the Gresham people."

  The old man sighed. He took up some drawings and opened a littledrawer in the table.

  "No, Mr. Burke, I am afraid my tricks will be slow. I have received noletter from young Gresham in reply to one I wrote him, asking to begiven a salary for mechanical work here in my home. Every bit of mysavings has been exhausted. You know I educated my daughters to thelimit of my earnings, since my dear wife died. They have hard sleddingin front of them for a while, I fear."

  He hesitated, and then continued:

  "Do you remember the day you met Mary? She started to say that she andLorna could not see me on visiting day. Well, the dear girls hadsecured a position as clerks in Monnarde's big candy store up on FifthAvenue. They talked it over between them, and decided that it wasbetter for them to get to work, to relieve my mind of worry. It's thefirst time they ever worked, and they are sticking to it gamely. Butit makes me feel terribly. Their mother never had to work, and I feelas though I have been a failure in life--to have done as much as Ihave, and yet not have enough in my old age to protect them from theworld."

  "There, there, Mr. Barton. I don't agree with you. There is nodisgrace in womanly work; it proves what a girl is worth. She learnsthe value of money, which before that had merely come to her without aquestion from her parents. And you have been a splendid father ...that's easily seen from the fine sort of girl Miss Mary is."

  Mary had stepped into the room with her younger sister as he spoke.They hesitated at the kindly words, and Mary drew her sister backagain, her face suffused with a rosiness which was far from unhappy inits meaning.

  "Well, I am very proud of Mary and Lorna. If this particular schemeworks out they will be able to buy their candy at Monnarde's instead ofselling it."

  Bobbie rose and leaned over the table.

  "What is it? I'm not very good at getting mechanical drawings. Itlooks as though it ought to be very important from all the wheels," hesaid, with a smile of interest.

  Spreading out the largest of his drawings, old Barton pointed out thedifferent lines.

  "This may look like a mince pie of cogs here, but when it is put intoshape it will be a simple little arrangement. This is a recordinginstrument which combines the phonograph and the dictagraph. Onepurpose--the most practical, is that a business man may dictate hisletters and memoranda while sitting at his desk, in his office, insteadof having a machine with a phonograph in his private office taking upspace and requiring the changing of records by the dictator--which isnecessary with the present business phonograph. All that will benecessary is for him to speak into a little disc. The sound waves arecarried by a simple arrangement of wiring into his outer office, orwherever his stenographer works. There, where the space is presumablycheaper and easier of access than the private office, the receiving endof the machine is located. Instead of one disc at a time--limited to acertain number of letters--the machine has a magazine of discs,something like the idea of a repeating letter. Automatically the disc,which is filled, is moved up and a fresh disc takes its place. Thisgoes on indefinitely, as you might say. A man can dictate two hundredletters, speaking as rapidly as he thinks. He never has to bother overchanging his records. The girl at the other end of the wire does thatwhen the machine registers that the supply is being exhausted. She inturn uses the discs on the regular business phonograph, or, as this isintended for large offices, where there are a great many letters, andconsequently a number of stenographers, she can assign the records tothe different typists."

  "Why, that is wonderful, Mr. Barton!" exclaimed Burke. "It ought tomake a fortune for you if it is backed and financed right. Why didn'tanyone think of it before?"

  Barton smiled, and caressed his drawing affectionately.

  "Mr. Burke, the Patent Office is maintained for men who think up thingsthat some fellow should have thought of before! The greatestinventions are apparently the simplest. That's what makes them hard toinvent!"

  He pointed to another drawing.

  "That has a business value, too, and I hope to get the proper supportwhen I have completed my models. You know, a scientific man can seeall these things on the paper, but to the man with money they are pipedreams until he sees the wheels go 'round."

  He now held out his second drawing, which was easier to understand, forit was a sketch of his appliance, showing the outer appearance, andgiving a diagonal section of a desk or room, with a wire runningthrough a wall into another compartment.

  "Here is where the scientist yields to his temperament and wastes a lotof time on something which probably will never bring him a cent. Thisis a combination of my record machine, which will be of interest toyour profession."

  Bobbie examined it closely, but could not divine its purpose.

  "It is the application of the phonographic record to the dictagraph, sothat police and detective work can be absolutely recorded, without theshadow of a doubt remaining in the minds of a trial jury or judge.Maybe this is boring you?"

  "No, no--go on!"

  "Well, when dictagraphs are used for the discovery of criminals it hasbeen necessary to keep expert stenographers, and at least one otherwitness at the end of the wire to put down the record. Frequently thestenographer cannot take the words spoken as fast as he should to makethe record. Sometimes it is impossible to get the stenographer and thewitness on the wire at the exact time. Of course, this is only a crazyidea. But it seems to me that by a little additional appliance which Ihave planned, the record machine could be put into a room nearby, oreven another house. If a certain place were under suspicion themachine could rest with more ease, less food and on smaller wages thana detective and stenographer on salary. When any one started to talkin this suspected room the vibrations of the voices would start acertain connection going through this additional wire, which would setthe phonograph into action. As long as the conversation continued therecords would be running continuously. No matter how rapidly words areuttered the phonograph would get them, and could be run, for furtherinvestigation, as slowly and as many times as desired. When theconversation stopped the machine would automatically blow its owndinner whistle and ad
journ the meeting until the talk began again.This would take the record of at least an hour's conversation: anotherattachment would send in a still-alarm to the detective agency orpolice station, so that within that hour a man could be on the job witha new supply of records and bait the trap again."

  "Wonderful!"

  "Yes, and the most important part is that this is the only way ofkeeping a record which cannot be called a 'frame-up'--for it is aphotograph of the sound waves. A grafter, a murderer, or any othercriminal could be made to speak the same words in court as were put onthe phonographic record, and his voice identified beyond the shadow ofa doubt!"

  Bobbie clapped his hand on the old man's shoulder.

  "Why, Mr. Barton, that is the greatest invention ever made forcapturing and convicting criminals. It's wonderful! The PoliceDepartments of the big cities should buy enough machines to make yourich, for you could demand your own price."

  Barton looked dreamily toward the window, through which twinkled thedistant lights of the city streets.

  "I want money, Burke, as every sane man does. But this pet of minemeans more than money. I want to contribute my share to justice justas you do yours. Who knows, some day it may reward me in a way whichno money could ever repay. You never can tell about such things. Whoknows?"