Objection, shouted Frayser. He accused Julio of failing to give true and accurate translations. As a witness for the prosecution, the translator clearly had a vested interest in the case. Mindful of the fact that no one else in Memphis, and quite possibly the entire country, spoke their language and could therefore act as translator, the judge ruled that Julio could continue in the role. To placate the defense, Judge Moss added that Truman, who had a working knowledge of the language, could interrupt whenever an accurate translation was not given.
Sitting next to Frayser, Truman tried hard not to smile. He scribbled something on a scrap of paper in front of him and passed it along to Frayser.
When it was his turn to question the witness, Frayser stood up and stared hard at Dengay. To the Filipino’s confusion, the legal man started by asking him to describe the layout and decor of the house on North Front Street, and the method by which the Igorrotes claimed Truman and Callahan had blacked out the windows. As Frayser asked him more and more questions about precisely where the windows were, how many of them there were, and the way in which each window was covered, Dengay grew tired. Seven months had passed since they stayed in the house. They’d stayed in many, many places since then, and he could no longer remember exactly what it looked like.
Truman kept interrupting Dengay’s testimony to complain that Julio’s translation was inaccurate. Dengay grew weary and frustrated. Eventually, because of the many interruptions, Judge Moss adjourned the day’s proceedings. Dengay would be recalled the following morning.
That night Dengay was uncharacteristically quiet. He had let the tribe down. The legal man had made his head hurt with his questions about the house. Why hadn’t he asked him about Truman and the terrible things he had done to them? If the showman walked free, it would be his fault. Barker and Julio sat for more than an hour talking to Dengay, trying to reassure him that all was not lost. But Barker secretly wondered whether the Igorrote’s simple, unaffected truth would be enough to convict a man who dealt in hyperbole, exaggeration, and lies.
The following morning, Frayser continued his questioning in the same vein. How many rooms were there in the house? Four, replied Dengay. Was he sure? Dengay’s evidence became confused, and at times contradictory. Isn’t it true, asked Frayser, that when Mr. Blum and Mr. Barker took you to identify the house on North Front Street recently, you couldn’t find it? Barker wondered how on earth the man knew this. Frayser continued: If this terrible event that you describe really took place, wouldn’t it be fair to assume that every detail of the house would be etched in your mind forever? Dengay was silent for a moment, unable to think as quickly as the man was speaking. When finally the headhunter found his voice, he said simply, but what I told you is true.11
Barker felt sorry for the savage. The Igorrotes were good, honest people whose straightforward worldview and complete lack of cunning made them pathetically vulnerable to attack in the rough and tumble of the courtroom. When it was his turn to speak, Barker explained his involvement in the case. He described how he had undertaken a thorough examination of the Igorrotes’ complaints and had reached the conclusion that Truman Hunt must be prosecuted for his crimes. There was no doubt in his mind, Barker added, that the tribespeople were telling the truth. Julio, Maria, Feloa, and Tainan were each called on to give their version of events. Their accounts differed little from Dengay’s, though when they described a minor detail like the position of the outhouse or a window differently, the defense made much of it.
Truman took the stand next. The contrast between the chief prosecution witness and the accused man was stark; Dengay had been faltering and uncertain, Truman was fluent and assured. He spoke for four hours, eloquently and without a break.12 His performance was polished and persuasive. The enforced sobriety in jail had been good for him. Gone was the ruddy complexion, the forgetfulness, and the near-permanent slur. He still had the puffy bags under his eyes, but those were there to stay. With Frayser at his side, he looked and felt more like the Truman Hunt of old, the one who’d gone off to medical school full of confidence and swagger. Eyeing the judge and then looking slowly from one juror to another, the showman said the Igorrotes had given him their money to keep safe for them. He was not a thief, he insisted—he despised thieves. Darn him, thought Barker, the showman was so plausible. Would the jury see through his lies?
Truman said he had given the tribespeople a receipt. At this, the clerk passed Judge Moss a piece of paper Frayser had given him earlier. The paper was a receipt for $209 written in Truman’s hand, and made out to the Igorrotes as an I.O.U. for some of the souvenir money, which, according to Truman’s version of events, the Igorrotes had given him voluntarily.13 Why would the defendant have issued a receipt if he had stolen the money? Frayser asked with a quizzical expression as the receipt was passed to the jurors to inspect. Doesn’t the fact that he issued the receipt indicate that he had no intention of keeping the tribe’s money? Barker noted one of the jurors nodding.
Frayser then showed the receipt to Julio and the Igorrotes and asked them if they had ever seen it before. The Filipinos glanced at each other. How they wished that they could bring themselves to lie, but their consciences would not allow it. On behalf of them all, Julio nodded, yes, Truman gave us the receipt. What the translator didn’t understand was how Truman had gotten his hands on it. He must have stolen it from their trunks. Julio opened his mouth to say something further, but Frayser cut him off. Blum chewed the inside of his cheek. There was no doubt the receipt would weaken their case. His earlier confidence began to ebb away.
After two long days of testimony, argument, and counterargument, Blum gave an impassioned closing statement. Truman was a liar, a cheat, a spendthrift, and a thief who had earned many thousands of dollars from the Igorrotes. Once he had frittered away his fortune, the greedy showman had used physical force to steal more money from the tribespeople. The Igorrotes were primitive people who deserved to be protected, not betrayed and preyed upon. Truman had treated them abominably and kept them against their will, locked up like slaves, after their contracts had expired.
Frayser stood up to give his closing argument. The Truman he described could have passed for an unfortunate saint. He was a caring manager and friend to the Igorrotes who had fallen on hard times after spending a fortune housing and feeding the tribe, and transporting them around the country. He had kept their wages safe for them and had, on occasion, been forced to borrow souvenir money from them, but, as the I.O.U. demonstrated, he had always planned to pay the money back. The incident described by the Igorrotes as having happened on North Front Street never took place, as evidenced by the Filipinos’ failure to find the house or to adequately describe it. Frayser added that his client was stunned and wounded by their claims.
The jury retired to consider their verdict. Barker and Blum stepped outside. Though he did not say so to Blum, Barker feared the case was lost. With objections to the tribespeople swearing on the Bible and numerous questions about the Filipinos’ pagan beliefs, opposing counsel had done “everything in their power to arouse religious prejudice against these poor savages in the minds of the jury men. The low intelligence of the Igorrote witnesses and the extreme difficulty of getting the questions to them correctly through an interpreter and of securing responsive replies was constantly raising ‘reasonable doubts’ in the minds of the jurymen which it required Herculean efforts to ally.”14 The fact that they did not speak English, or understand American ways of doing and saying things, was a major disadvantage, making them easy victims to Frayser and Truman’s underhanded tricks.15
The next one hour and forty minutes were among the longest and most nerve-racking of Barker’s life. In his line of work, Blum had grown accustomed to these tense waits. The attorney, who was a voracious reader and “a veritable treasury of information,”16 took out his newspaper and began to read, breaking off after awhile to do the crossword puzzle. Tainan began to sing the first verse of the popular 1905 song “Everybody Works but Father,
”17 sung from the point of view of a young boy lamenting that while he works all day, his father lounges around in front of the fire smoking his pipe:18
Every morning at six o’clock
I go to my work,
Overcoat buttoned up round my neck
No job would I shirk,
Winter wind blows round my head
Cutting up my face,
I tell you what I’d like to have
My dear old father’s place.19
Barker looked over at the boy. Next to him, the other Filipinos were chatting calmly. The government agent noticed they seemed able to switch off their minds and relax a little by smoking their pipes. But Barker could do nothing except pace up and down the corridor, making a mental map of every single imperfection on the tiled floor. Would the jury be able to see the truth through the Igorrotes’ sometimes halting delivery? Would Truman’s fluency and poise be enough to persuade them he was a man of honor?
A voice boomed down the corridor. The jury had reached their decision. Everyone filed back into the courtroom. Barker peered intently at the faces of the jury, searching for a clue to their decision. He noticed one of them smiling at Truman. He felt suddenly nauseous.
Judge Moss looked around the courtroom. He called for the jury’s verdict.
As the foreman stood, Barker swallowed. His mouth was dry. He looked over and saw Julio was clenching the side of his seat so tightly his knuckles had turned white. The room was silent, save for the sound of the foreman clearing his throat. All eyes were fixed on him as he opened his mouth and uttered the words the Igorrotes had hardly dared hoped for: “We find the defendant guilty.”
Barker and Blum turned to each other, speechless. This was an astounding verdict in favor of the pagan Filipino tribespeople from the southern, all-white, Christian jury. It was a truly historic moment, a fact that was wasted on no one in the room. Julio turned to translate for his countrymen, but he didn’t need to. His face told them all they needed to know. The tribespeople were “overjoyed”20 and asked Barker to send word of the result to their friends in the Philippines immediately. There would be feasting in the Bontoc mountains.
Truman’s sentence was set at eleven months and twenty-nine days to be served in the Shelby County workhouse. The showman sat back in his chair, his face deathly white.
The tribe’s blunt way of speaking, and their emotion as they described Truman’s cruelty, had given their testimony a power the twelve jurors had found hard to ignore. Any religious or racial prejudices the jury might have had against the Igorrotes had been overwhelmed by the disgust they felt as the prosecution described the wealth Truman had accumulated and squandered, and the inhumanity he had shown the savages. The very conservatism of the jury, which Truman’s lawyer had assumed would act in his client’s favor, had acted against him. His callous behavior had offended their sense of decency.
For the first time since he had begun his pursuit of Truman Hunt, Barker allowed himself to believe that his opponent was going to be properly punished for all that he had done.
30
Trials and Tribulations
SHELBY COUNTY COURT, MEMPHIS, NOVEMBER 22, 1906
Attorney David Frayser
Judge Moss
A FORTNIGHT AFTER SECURING their surprise victory, the Igorrotes returned to the Shelby County court for the second case against Truman. The showman was accused of using force to steal twenty-eight dollars from Feloa while they were staying in the house on North Front Street. On their first court appearance the tribespeople were nervous, naive, and had fallen easily into Frayser’s traps; this time they came prepared and gave “dramatic and persuasive” testimony.1
When Kortrecht asked Feloa about the incident in the house on North Front Street, the Igorrote described Truman’s ultimate betrayal with a poignancy which would have made any man of conscience weep. The showman’s face was impassive.
Frayser’s cross-examination followed a by-now familiar path. Do you believe in God and Jesus Christ? he asked. No, said Feloa, I believe in a supreme being and in a future reward for good and evil. As he uttered these words, the Igorrote looked at Truman. But if he hoped to detect a glimmer of remorse, he would find none.2 Do you pray? Frayser continued. No, replied the Igorrote. Do you know what prayer is? Feloa shook his head. What, then, do you believe? Frayser demanded to know. I believe in a soul. What do you mean by a soul? Truman’s attorney asked. Will, explained the Igorrote. Can you elaborate? Frayser asked. Good will or ill will, added Feloa.3 It was an unusual exchange for a courtroom, on a topic better suited to the Memphis Theological Seminary, but Truman’s attorney continued in this manner for most of the afternoon.
At the first trial, Frayser’s emphasis on religion had seemed calculated but now it smacked of desperation.
When, on the second day of the trial, it was Truman’s turn to speak, he did not take the stand, complaining of a sore throat.4
The jury took four hours to reach their verdict: Truman Hunt was guilty. He was sentenced to another six months in the workhouse.
The pressmen hurried off to file their stories. The verdict would make headlines from Los Angeles to Little Rock and from Paducah to New York City. It was a tribute of sorts to Truman’s genius for publicity. He had worked long and hard to make the Igorrotes famous. Now the newspapers were rushing to report the downfall of the tribe’s manager.
Truman sat speechless. Frayser had let him down badly. It was a travesty of justice. The jurors were idiots. In short, it was everyone’s fault but his.
The sheriff came to lead him away. Truman turned to Frayser and ordered his attorney to get him out fast. The showman glared at the tribespeople. If he could have gotten near them, he would have torn them limb from limb.
Barker and Blum adjourned with the Filipinos to an anteroom. Why, Julio asked, is Truman not being sent to the penitentiary? Will his punishment be sufficiently severe in the workhouse? Barker had wondered this himself and had been reliably informed by several people with knowledge of such matters that the Shelby County workhouse was a much worse place to stay than the penitentiary. The food and accommodations were so bad, and the work the inmates were required to do on the roads and in the fields was so severe, hardened criminals were said to prefer a sentence of two years in the penitentiary to one year in the workhouse.5 Julio smiled. He translated for the others. Slapping Dengay hard on the back, Feloa jumped to his feet and exploded into a victory dance.
But their celebrations were short-lived. Following the two guilty verdicts, Frayser lodged customary motions for two new trials, arguing that Truman had been convicted on the basis of false evidence given by the Igorrotes and false interpretation by Julio. On December 20, 1906, Judge Moss, who had presided in the first two cases, granted the new trials. Such a move was rare in the Memphis court system. Explaining his reasoning, Moss said his conscience had been “disturbed” by inconsistencies in the Igorrotes’ testimony and by his fear that Julio had not acted as an unprejudiced interpreter.6 The judge had shown no such doubts or fears at the time. What had happened to change his mind? Barker and Blum were furious. They both knew there were no legal grounds whatsoever for a new trial.
The Igorrotes had a strong sense of justice and could hardly believe it when Barker showed up at their Memphis lodgings to share the news. How can the judge change his mind? What about what the jury said? Julio wanted to know. The tribespeople felt cheated, and Barker could understand why. He empathized with their anger and frustration, but it was the pained expression on Maria’s face that would stay with him that night. Before he left, they had one final, inevitable question: When are we going home? The government hopes to have you on a ship within the month, he replied. Everyone in the room knew he had already made—and broken—this promise before.
Blum had been asking around the legal community to see what he could find out about Judge Moss, and had learned several facts which he shared with Barker. Moss was a prominent Mason who had been the subject of an attack in the n
ewspapers awhile back, which was so fierce it looked as if he wouldn’t get reelected. The judge had been befriended by Frayser, and the influential former newspaperman had used his contacts to silence the press. Since then the two men had appeared to be in cahoots in a number of cases. Moss was regarded by many of his peers to be lacking “moral backbone” and his “judicial reputation in the local community was very bad.”7 The judge’s decision to grant Truman the new trials was, in Blum’s view, a “monstrosity of an opinion rendered by a monstrosity on the bench.”8 To Blum and Barker’s dismay, Judge Moss himself would hear the new trials.
Against this backdrop, it seemed certain that the guilty verdicts would be overturned. Assistant Attorney General Kortrecht advised Blum and Barker that their best bet of securing a conviction in Memphis would be to bring a new case for the $444.55 that Truman and his security guard Ed Callahan had stolen from Julio during the same assault in the North Front Street house. Originally Kortrecht had advised them to prosecute the Feloa and Dengay cases on the basis that it should be easier to secure guilty convictions for these lesser monetary amounts. But they were running out of options and Kortrecht now felt the larger amount might carry more weight with the jury.
The Lost Tribe of Coney Island Page 32