(1969) The Seven Minutes

by Irving Wallace

  Quickly the clerk extended a black leatherbound Bible. ‘Please place your left hand on the Bible, then raise your right hand.’

  Officer Kellog laid his paw of a hand on the Bible.

  The clerk’s peppery voice rattled like a machine gun. ‘Do you swear that the testimony you are about to give in the cause now before the court will be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘State your name, please.’

  ‘Otto C. Kellog. K-e-l-l-o-g.’

  ‘Please sit down.’

  Kellog sat down easily and waited expectantly, as one who had played this part before. The court clerk with his Bible had silently vanished and in his stead stood District Attorney Elmo Duncan.

  ‘Officer Kellog, can you tell us your occupation, please?’ asked Duncan.

  ‘I am a police officer, a sergeant, sir, assigned to the vice detail of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Office.’

  ‘Officer, in your work for the vice details, is it standard procedure for you to wear plainclothes?’

  ‘It is, sir.’

  ‘Now, tell me, on the date of the nineteenth of May of this year, did you have reason to visit the premises which are located at 1301 North Third Street in Oakwood, in the county of Los Angeles, California?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘And did you wear your usual attire of plainclothes on that occasion?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I did, sir.’

  ‘Can you tell me exactly what structure stands at 1301 North Third Street in Oakwood?’

  ‘There’s a store, sir. It’s rented to Ben Fremont, who runs the Book Emporium.’

  ‘And you visited these premises. Did you arrive at the premises alone?’

  ‘No, sir, I arrived with my partners, Officer Izaac Iverson and Officer Anthony Eubank. Or do you mean did I go inside the bookstore alone?’

  ‘No, you replied to my question. Now I want to know if your partners accompanied you into the bookstore?’

  ‘I went in alone, sir, the first time.’

  ‘You were alone the first time. What was your purpose in entering alone?’

  ‘To look like an ordinary customer who wanted to buy a book for his wife.’

  ‘And did you buy a book?’

  ‘I did. Mr Ben Fremont, the proprietor, he sold me a copy of a book called The Seven Minutes, by J J Jadway.’

  ‘But that was the first time. Was there a second time you went into the bookstore?’

  ‘Yes, right after I bought the book, I went outside and consulted with my partner, Officer Iverson, for a few minutes, and then we went back into the bookstore together.’

  ‘And what was the purpose of your second visit ?’

  ‘To arrest Mr Fremont, sir, for violation of Section 311.2 of the California Penal Code.’

  At the defense table, Mike Barrett had been listening dutifully to the testimony of the first witness, but now his interest began to wane. This was familiar ground, and he had heard it and read it all before. He only half listened as he sketched caricatures of the jurors on a pad, saving his concentration for the bigger game that lay ahead.

  Only once, twenty minutes later, did Barrett become fully alert.

  Duncan had been asking the witness whether Ben Fremont had conceded that the Jadway book he was selling was obscene. Officer Kellog, referring to his tape recording of the conversation, insisted that the bookseller had agreed that this novel was obscene.

  ‘He told me it was the most banned book ever,’ said Officer Kellog. ‘He said, “It was banned in every country in the world because it was considered obscene.” Those were Mr Fremont’s own words.’

  This had scored with the jury, Barrett observed, and immediately he began scribbling on a fresh sheet of notepaper, even as Zelkin began looking for their copy of the transcript which had been made from the police taping recorded on the portable Fargo F-600 that Officer Kellog had worn under his armpit.

  Then, closing his ears to the continuing interrogation of the witness, Barrett concentrated on the only key point that he must refute in his crossexamination. He followed Zelkin’s forefinger as it moved across the transcript of the tape and revealed in full every

  word of Ben Fremont’s conversation with Officer Kellog before the arrest.

  Hastily, Barrett made his notes. Fremont had actually said to the officer that May morning, ‘It’s literature.’ Later Fremont had said, ‘Whatever it’s been called, obscene or whatever, it is still a masterpiece.’ And when the officer had baited Fremont, asking the bookseller whether he thought The Seven Minutes to be obscene, Fremont had refused - thank God - to so label the book. ‘Who am I to say ? That’s only another word. There’s a four-letter work some people think is dirty and other people think is beautiful. So there we are. Some people, maybe most people, will say this is dirty - but there’ll be plenty of people who’ll say it’s worthwhile.’ And again, ‘They don’t give a damn about obscenity if in the end they have some great reading that gives them new insights and understanding into human nature.’

  Smiling to himself, Barrett laid down his pencil at last.

  He looked up. Under Duncan’s guidance, Officer Kellog was still going through his paces, addressing the microphone and the court with growing assurance.

  We’ll take care of you, Officer Kellog, we’ll take care of you, in due time, Barrett thought.

  Due time turned out to be a half hour later.

  There was really little for Barrett to question the witness about in the crossexamination. He made much of the policeman’s pretense of being a customer. He made much of the policeman’s hidden tape recorder. He made much of the policeman’s attempts to trap a poor bookseller with leading questions.

  But he made the most of the fact that Ben Fremont’s conversation, when heard in its entirety, revealed the evidence that the bookseller had believed the novel to be a literary masterpiece and that never once had Fremont himself called the book obscene.

  Small victory. A mere balancing of the scales of justice. And of the second truth. A tidying up, no more.

  These were bit players, a greek chorus, setting the stage. The leading players, the luminous stars, would make their entrance soon enough. Then no victories would be small. And no defeats either. Then each witness would be, for the defense, for the prosecution, life or death.

  Mike Barrett had finished with Officer Kellog. Duncan was up again for a redirect examination, in an effort to bolster testimony weakened by Barrett’s crossexamination. The bolstering attempt was brief and repetitious. Barrett decided to waive his recross. He would save himself for when it counted. Besides, he was hungry now, a good sign.

  District Attorney Duncan had completed his redirect.

  Judge Upshaw wheeled his chair toward the witness stand. ‘You may step down now Officer. You may pass in front of the jury’.

  As the first witness left the stand, Judge Upshaw carefully enunci—

  ated his instructions to the twelve jurors. ‘We are about to take our noon recess, ladies and gentlemen. I admonish you that during this recess you shall not converse among yourselves, nor with anyone else, on any matter pertaining to this case. Nor shall you express or form an opinion thereon until the matter is finally submitted to you.’ He rapped his gavel lightly. ‘Recess until two o’clock.’

  It was after lunch, Judge Upshaw, the jurors, the officers of the court were in their places, and once again the press and the spectators crowded every available inch of the room.

  Standing, the bailiff was announcing, ‘Please remain seated. Court is now again in session.’

  Judge Upshaw sorted some papers before him and spoke into his desk microphone. The jury is present. Mr Duncan, you may call your next witness.’

  The next witness was Officer Iazaac ‘Ike’ Iverson, who had been present in Ben Fremont’s Book Emporium when Kellog arrested the bookseller, and the District Attorney quickly guided him through his testimony. Iverson’s testimony d
id little more than corroborate what his colleague had already mentioned of the arrest itself and the dialogue exchanged with Fremont.

  In the crossexamination, realizing there had been almost nothing in Iverson’s testimony that the defense could make use of, Mike Barrett kept his questions limited. He touched on Officer Iverson’s background as a policeman and the kind of assignments he had previously undertaken for the vice detail. Barrett’s tactic was an attempt to show the jury how unfair the law was in submitting a respectable book dealer to the same treatment given pimps and prostitutes.

  With the appearance of the People’s third witness, Barrett saw more possibilities.

  The third witness was Officer Anthony Eubank, who had remained in the unmarked police car outside the bookstore throughout the period of Kellog’s purchase of the book and during the arrest that followed it. Officer Eubank’s task had been to operate the Fargo F-600 unit that received and taped the conversations going on inside the shop. Examining him, Duncan merely tried to have the witness confirm that the use of tape in such arrests was routine, and that the receiver and the tape machine had recorded everything spoken by Ben Fremont and the two police officers accurately and correctly.

  In crossexamination, Barrett displayed persistent curiosity about certain aspects of the Fargo F-600 unit: the means by which it was concealed, the way it picked up dialogue, the operation of the receiver by Kellog in the shop and the operation of the recorder by Eubank in the back seat. At one point, Barrett suggested that the equipment be brought into the courtroom and its use be demonstrated for the enlightenment of the jury. And, despite

  Duncan’s mild objection that this acting out was immaterial, Judge Upshaw decided that such a demonstration was a good idea.

  When his crossexamination had been completed, Barrett saw that he had gained no ground. He had tried to give the jurors the impression that a naive and helpless citizen had been the victim of a police conspiracy. He had tried to imply, without ever stating it, that Ben Fremont, a guileless merchant and an ordinary family man like so many members of the jury, had been beset by sinister forces - police officers disguised as book buyers, concealed sending and recording equipment, an electronics expert hidden in an automobile that looked like anything but a squad cat. He had failed to sway the jurors because the witness had been miscast for Barrett’s role. Officer Eubank was filled with enthusiasm for anything electronic. He was as proud of his Fargo F-600 unit as a child might be of a new Erector set on Christmas morning. He was open, eager, winning. He was the last person on earth one would connect with sinister conspiracy. For the defense, Barrett concluded, he was impossible.

  Ah, well, Barrett thought when he returned to the defense table, nothing had been lost or gained as yet. Officer Eubank, like Kellog and Iverson before him, was unimportant. These officers were only the preliminary card. The main event lay in the offing.

  Or did it ? Would Elmo Duncan come to grips with the central issue, start the big fight, immediately? Barrett sought the time. It was a few minutes after four o’clock. Barrett decided that it was unlikely the prosecution would unveil a big punch at this hour. The effectiveness of a key witness might be weakened by the impending recess. Still, one never knew,

  ‘Mr Duncan,’ the Judge was saying, ‘you may call your next witness.’

  Elmo Duncan had risen, and he was holding a copy of the Sanford House edition of The Seven Minutes. ‘Your Honor, if you please, may we approach the bench at this time?’

  Judge Upshaw nodded. ‘Yes, of course… Mr Barrett… Mr Reporter.’

  Barrett quickly joined Duncan and the court reporter, Alvi Cohen, at the bench. Barrett and Duncan were elbow to elbow, and Judge Upshaw had come forward as far as he could, so that the intimate conference would be out of earshot of the jurors.

  ‘Your Honor,’ Duncan began quietly, ‘out of the presence of the jury, I would like to move that the People’s Exhibit Three - the People’s Three - which is this copy of The Seven Minutes that was purchased by Officer Kellog be received in evidence, but with one modification. We object to the book jacket’s going into evidence with the book.’

  ‘One moment, Your Honor -‘ Barrett started to protest. Judge Upshaw raised one gnarled hand. ‘Mr Barrett, you will

  permit counsel for the People to finish. Or, Mr Duncan, have you finished?’

  ‘Not quite,’ said Duncan. ‘We feel that the book should be entered into evidence without the jacket because we are concerned here with the contents of the book itself and not with the publicity copy on the jacket, which does not represent what Jadway has written.’ He turned the book over to reveal the back of the white book jacket. ‘As you can see, Your Honor, the rear of the jacket contains, above the brief biography of the author, a number of extracted quotations concerning the contents of the book which have been taken from various international periodicals. It is our contention that since these quotations represent, in fact, hearsay statements of various writers, critics, editors, and since we don’t have the opportunity to subpoena these people and bring them into court for crossexamination, their alleged remarks on the book jacket are not admissible to a trial that will determine whether or not The Seven Minutes is obscene.’

  ‘You are finished?’ asked Judge Upshaw. ‘Very well. Now, let me see if I have this clearly, Mr Duncan. Your motion is that the court receive in evidence as People’s Exhibit Three a copy of the book, The Seven Minutes, without the book jacket, as I believe those covers are called. Is that correct ?’

  ‘It is correct, Your Honor.’

  Judge Upshaw’s gaze moved to Barrett. ‘Now you may have your turn, Mr Barrett. Do you have any objection to this motion ?’

  ‘I have a strong objection to Mr Duncan’s motion, the strongest,’ said Barrett. ‘Mr Duncan’s prosecution is based on the purchase of an allegedly obscene novel. We agree that Mr Fremont sold this book to Officer Kellog. We agree that Officer Kellog purchased and paid for the book in legal tender. We agree that the book, just as Mr Duncan has it in his hand right now, the jacketed book, is the purchase in contention in this case. The Seven Minutes came out of the book bindery in the East with this jacket on it. The book and jacket were and are a single unit. The book was shipped from warehouse to wholesalers and stores like Mr Fremont’s as a package, as a jacket and book, and Mr Fremont had it for sale in that form. Officer Kellog acquired it in that form. I firmly believe that the court and the jury have every right to consider as evidence every part of the purchase. I don’t believe that because some portion of the purchase does not suit the prosecutor, he should be permitted to remove it, any more than I believe he should have the right to remove those passages inside the book that are of no interest to him because they don’t support his charge of obscenity. Would the court allow him to snip out pages - ?’

  “That’s ridiculous,’ Duncan interrupted huffily. ‘Counsel knows better than -‘

  ‘Hold it, Mr Duncan,’ said Judge Upshaw. ‘You will permit Mr Barrett to complete his argument. Go ahead, Mr Barrett.’

  ‘As to whether the quotations on the jacket are immaterial,’ said Barrett. “There are five quotations written by five persons in the nineteen-thirties. Three are credited to the periodicals in which the quotations first appeared, but the writers were obviously anonymous staff members of these publications. I wish we had both the time and the money to discover and subpoena these writers, but we don’t. However, we do possess photostatic records of the original publications, to prove that the book jacket quotations are accurate. Regard ing the two quotations attributed to critics, one critic is long dead, but the other is alive, namely Sir Esmond Ingram, of England, and in due course he shall appear in this court to submit himself to crossexamination. As to the prejudicial nature of the quotations, if you will examine them, Your Honor, you will see that they are not mere puffs, that some are favorable to the book, some are qualified, and some should not make the prosecution entirely unhappy. I refer to the Vatican newspaper’s calling this book the most wid
ely banned in history. Also to the French newspaper’s saying that while the book is brilliant, it is also the most obscene work in history. In short, both pro and con. If the defense doesn’t mind the con, why should the prosecution mind the pro? We contend that at Mr Duncan’s instigation a police officer purchased an object that was on sale, an object that his superior considered obscene, and if this object is entered into evidence, we insist it should be entered in its entirety, not in parts, but as a whole.’

  Judge Upshaw looked at Duncan. ‘Very well. Mr Duncan, do you have anything more?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honor. I would liken the book’s being entered into evidence with its jacket as analogous to the Fargo F-600 unit’s being entered into evidence with its price tag still on it, with its guarantee Scotch-taped to it, with its advertising brochure included, the brochure perhaps reading, “The most widely used transmitting and receiving set in the world, according to one hundred leading businessmen.” Mr Barrett was concerned with the Fargo F-600 itself, not the extraneous trimming and window dressing. I repeat, Your Honor, that these statements by five writers, three of them anonymous, on the back of the jacket represent hearsay evidence, are inadmissible and prejudicial to the prosecution case, and bear no objective relevancy to the central issue, which is, in short, whether or not the Jadway book is obscene.’

  Judge Upshaw placed his hands flat on the desk before him. ‘All right, gentlemen, let me rule on this matter. Now, I confess it is somewhat unusual for People’s counsel to offer an exhibit of which he wished only one part entered into evidence. At the same time, there is no immutable law that demands that materials acquired in a single purchase must be received in evidence as a unit. We are in this court to judge whether or not the contents of an entire book -

  in this instance with pages numbering from one to one hundred seventy-one - are or are not obscene when the narrative is considered as a whole. In this light, in considering what J J Jadway wrote, it would appear that the drawing on the front of the jacket, the quotations and copy on the rear of the jacket, none of which are by Jadway and none of which form a part of the narrative of the novel, need not be considered when judging whether the book is or is not obscene. Therefore, I will rule that the request of the People that the jacket be removed from this copy of The Seven Minutes is a proper one, and I will order that the jacket now be removed from People’s Exhibit Three and the book devoid of covering be received in evidence by the court.’