Pulitzer_ A Life in Politics, Print, and Power - James McGrath Morris [63]
“Just returning from New York,” wrote Pulitzer, “I am both amused and amazed by the animadversions on the part of the generous and unbiased press of St. Louis to connect my purely accidental absence from the city with a pending suit of a scandalous nature.” The Missouri Republican, which was used to Pulitzer’s lack of honesty with the press, published his comments but added that they “must be taken as ‘sarkasm’” and deemed unbelievable “the calm and lofty manner in which he remarks that the opera-house suit was too infinitesimal in proportions to have been heard of by him.”
The paper was correct. In both his telegram to the judge and his letter to the press, Pulitzer was playing fast and loose with the facts. He had been in St. Louis on March 9, and as an avid newspaper reader, he knew that Hutchins’s widely publicized trial was opening on March 8.
When the trial convened for its final day on March 23, visitors to the courthouse might have thought they had taken a wrong turn and entered the city’s playhouse. That was certainly the image on the mind of the reporter from the Missouri Republican. “A good play of any kind is sure to draw, and Mr. Bowman has put on the stage the best play of the season,” he wrote. “The plot of the piece is intricate, the positions startling, and the players all stars. It is no wonder therefore that the play has drawn full houses for over two weeks.”
The seats in the courtroom were all filled an hour before the curtain was to rise on the last act, and still spectators streamed in. Former mayors, legislators, businessmen, and even judges from other courts had come to watch. Pulitzer knew most of the audience. Among others, there were James Broadhead and Lewis Gottschalk, fellow delegates to the coming constitutional convention; and Colonel Alonzo Slayback, a prominent Democratic attorney with whom Pulitzer had worked in the campaign the previous year.
A few minutes before ten o’clock, Bowman made his appearance, and at ten sharp the judge entered. Pulitzer immediately pressed to the front of the courtroom and announced his presence. He said he had learned through the papers that he had been subpoenaed and was prepared to give his testimony.
“Not subpoenaed, Mr. Pulitzer,” replied the judge. “Subpoenas were issued for you, but returned ‘not found.’”
“It has been intimated that I went away to avoid being summoned,” Pulitzer continued, undeterred. “Now, your honor, I am perfectly willing to tell anything I know about the matter.”
The judge was unmoved. He told Pulitzer the time for testimony had passed and the case was closed. “You are a member of the bar, and, of course, understand that no further testimony can be introduced after the case is closed.”
Pulitzer, however, would not desist. “May it please the court,” he said, “I have seen in the papers, flings and innuendoes, and insinuations calculated to throw discredit upon me, and I would like the opportunity to make a statement in my own defense.”
“You are not upon trial,” interrupted the judge.
“All I ask is simple justice, and this is a court of justice.”
“Not for everybody,” quipped the judge, causing laughter and Pulitzer’s retreat. Bowman then rose and began his two-hour summation. That afternoon the jury rewarded the loquacious attorney and returned a verdict in favor of the defense. Bowman had triumphed and Hutchins was out of his money.
Hard feelings put aside, many of the same men who had battled in the courtroom gathered the following night for the planned celebration of James Eads at the Southern Hotel. Dining on Solid Rock Oysters, Mock Turtle Soup, Boiled California Salmon with Anchovy Sauce, mutton, beef, turkey, chicken, venison, and sweetbreads, and washing them down with Château Margaux and Krug champagne, the men praised the past and