These words by Circuit Judge Manton. Hearing them, Barrett’s gray cells had begun groping, and at last they snared Judge Manton in memory and impaled him. The moral Judge Manton, short years after airing his noble words, had been arrested for his part in a conspiracy to block justice and had wound up in a federal prison for nineteen months. Barrett wondered whether he should offer this postscript to the enthralled Faye. He decided against it. She was too engrossed in the District Attorney’s forensics. Barrett settled back to listen further.
‘ - yes, give heed to these sentiments by Judge Manton,’ the District Attorney was saying, ‘for had they been the standard by which a book publisher and seller had made their judgment in recent weeks, I assure you that our city would have known less violence and our neighbors would have suffered less grief.’
Elmo Duncan halted, and the swelling of applause was instantaneous in response to his first oblique reference to The Seven Minutes and the Jerry Griffith rape case.
Once more Barrett could see that Faye was fervently clapping her hands, and once more he turned to observe Maggie Russell. As before, and like himself, she had not joined in the applause. Instead, picking up the empty glass and her purse, she abruptly rose, met his eyes, then started up the aisle and toward the exit.
Her sudden departure bewildered Barrett. Obviously she had come to this rally because her sympathies were for the STDL and Elmo Duncan, who were trying to punish the book that had, in their view, driven Jerry Griffith to crime. And Jerry was Maggie Russell’s close relative. Then why had she, abruptly and with
seeming finality, decided to leave before the District Attorney’s speech had ended?
A remote possibility passed through Barrett’s mind. Unaccountably, this girl had turned her back on the prosecution. Perhaps, given a chance, she might not turn her back on the defense. It was worth finding out.
On the stage, Duncan had resumed speaking, and, beside Barrett, Faye was listening intently. Barrett leaned toward her. ‘Excuse me a minute, darling. I’ll be right back.’
‘Mike, where are you - ?’
‘Men’s room,’ he whispered. ‘Remember to tell me what I missed.’
Sliding off his chair, he went up the aisle, around the back row of chairs, and out the exit.
In the foyer, he saw Maggie Russell place her empty glass on the bar. As she was starting for the lobby corridor Barrett hastened to intercept her.
‘Miss Russell -‘ he called out.
She stopped and waited, without surprise.
He caught up with her. ‘While I had the chance, I wanted a few words with you.’
She remained silent, still waiting.
‘It’s about your relatives, the Griffiths. I understand you live with them.’
‘I’m Mrs Griffith’s secretary and companion.’
‘Faye mentioned your relationship with Jerry.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said you were very close to the boy.’
‘We’re not only relatives, we’re friends.’ She stared up at Barrett, and then she added pointedly, ‘And I’m prepared to defend him against anyone who wishes to hurt him.’
Barrett frowned. ‘If that was meant for me, you’ve picked the wrong target. I have no reason to try to hurt Jerry Griffith. Quite the contrary. I’m sorry for him and I sympathize with all of you. My only interest in Jerry is professional. I’m charged with defending a man who sold a book that Jerry claims incited him to a crime. From the little I know of juvenile delinquency, I am not convinced that reading matter alone - if in any way - can be held responsible for antisocial acts. There are many other factors that might be more seriously considered, among them a young man’s upbringing and family. I was hoping we could talk about this.’
Her gray-green eyes were unblinking. She considered him without emotion. ‘I’m surprised at myself for listening to you. What made you think even for a moment that I’d talk to you about my family’s private affairs ?’
‘For one thing, your behavior in the ballroom,’ said Barrett. ‘Your attending this event seemed perfectly natural. But when you were the only person beside myself not to applaud Duncan’s pack
of nonsense, and when you got up and walked out on him, it occurred to me that you might not be fully sympathetic with his point of view. Perhaps I misread your actions, but that’s what occurred to me. For a second thing, just watching you, I’ve -Well, you look honest and forthright and intelligent, the kind of person who might see that cooperating with me could not harm Jerry at all, might in some ways be useful to him.’
Calmly she folded both hands over her purse before her, and she replied, ‘Mr Barrett, to take the last first, I am honest and forthright, and so I can tell you I am intelligent enough to know any further discussion with you would be an act of disloyalty to those who have given me so much. As for Mr Duncan, I have no interest in his views on censorship in general. My sole interest in life right now is to protect Jerry. I came here tonight to see and hear how the District Attorney performed in public, since by attacking your book in court he will be attacking the source of Jerry’s problem. In that sense, Mr Duncan will be supporting and explaining Jerry, and helping mitigate my cousin’s guilt. I walked out because I had seen and heard enough.’ She paused, and then went on, her tone more earnest than ever. ‘Mr Barrett, I have no idea to what degree pornography alone contributes to juvenile delinquency. I only know that someone dear to me has confessed it did him harm. Beyond that, I abhor censorship of any kind, especially as it was being advocated this evening. Nor do I care for the kind of people censorship attracts or the atmosphere it creates. But I am in favor of limited restrictions on what young people may be permitted to read, especially restrictions on prurient books written and manufactured to sell or titillate. I deplore any censorship of honest works, enlightening works, no matter how many four-letter words they contain, no matter how explicit they may be about sex. Those books can’t harm young people. Perhaps the other books can. There you have it.’
Barrett was sufficiently impressed by her, and encouraged, to ask his next question. ‘Okay, Miss Russell, reasonable enough. Then can you tell me - assuming you’ve read the book - do you regard The Seven Minutes as an honest book or a prurient one?’
About to reply, she hesitated, and then she said, T have no desire to discuss my reading tastes with you right now.’
‘But I am sure you will allow that even if Jerry feels the book influenced his behavior, there may have been other, stronger influences, ones he was unaware of, that disturbed him. Will you allow for that?’
‘Mr Barrett, I’m not a psychoanalyst. I don’t know. I do know I’ve already told you I have no intention of discussing my relatives with you or with anyone.’
‘Well, perhaps there are some people close to Jerry who would feel that uncovering the whole truth about him, for his sake, for all of us, could be a service to him in the end. I suppose’it would be
foolish to ask whether Frank Griffith would see me?’
‘I think Mr Griffith would consider youiike something that came out from under a rock. If he could, I’m sure he’d stamp you out.’
‘I’ve heard Mrs Griffith is more pacific’
‘Obviously she is. But in this matter it seems that way only because she’s invalided. You are being foolish, Mr Barrett. We aren’t a house divided. We’re together in this. I don’t know what you’re after.’
‘I’m after Jerry. I’d like to see him, because I think he can help me, and in so doing help himself.’
‘You’re wasting your time and my time. Jerry wouldn’t see you in a million years, and even if he would, none of us would permit it. I must say, Mr Barrett, your persistence is becoming annoying.’
Barrett smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, I truly am. But you could have snubbed me, you know. Yet you didn’t. You suffered my interrogation. Why ? Good manners, Miss Russell?’
She was not amused. ‘Not good manners, Mr Barrett. I wanted to see if you w
ere really the kind of son of a bitch everyone said you were.’
‘And-am I?’
‘I’m not sure what you are, but from what I’ve seen tonight I suspect you’re heartless and ambitious, with less concern for human feelings than for winning a trial for yourself. Well, I want no part of you or your trial, Mr Barrett. I don’t give a damn about your case, except as it pertains to Jerry. So if you’re not what people say you are, you can prove it by not bothering me again. End of interrogation, Mr Barrett. Good night.’
With that, she turned on her heel and went rapidly toward the lobby.
He watched her leave, and when he started back to the ballroom he felt only one emotion toward her. Not anger. Not hurt. Only regret. He felt regret that she was so lovely -he had never met anyone lovelier, except for Faye, who was lovely but not in exactly the same sense - and that life had cast them in opposite camps.
Unhappily he returned to the ballroom and his seat beside Faye. He began an apology to Faye, but she held her forefinger to her lips and then poked it toward the stage. He looked toward the stage, and realized that Elmo Duncan was concluding his address.
‘And so, my friends,’ said the District Attorney, removing the pages of his speech from the lectern, ‘we know what we must fight, and why we must fight, and we know that we can succeed only by working hand in hand together. As we strive toward our common goal, let us remember’the words de Tocqueville spoke long ago of our beloved country. “America is great,” he said, “because she is good and when America ceases to be good she will cease to be great.” Let us rededicate ourselves to America’s goodness, so that her greatness never, ever diminishes. I thank you.’
The thousand members of the audience seemed to rise to their
feet in unison, like some giant eruption, beating their palms together, cheering, shouting their enthusiasm.
It disturbed Barrett to observe the numbers, the solidity, the passion of the opposition. He thought, If a like number of people, multiplied by every community in America, were as united and determined to eradicate cancer or poverty or racial inequality or even war, instead of to prevent open discussions about sex, the land of the free would be truly free and good. But fighting other causes is less warped fun, and less therapeutic to the old Calvinistic sickness, than fighting sex. Crazy people. Damn them.
The hurrahing and applause were continuing, and Barrett realized that he alone had remained seated. Lest he be conspicuous, and wind up lynched, he hastily stood up with Faye and the others.
Seeing him watching her, Faye ceased applauding. ‘I’m afraid I get carried away by oratory,’ she apologized. ‘You must agree, whatever else he is, our friend Elmo is effective, even if he is a rabble-rouser. But most politicians have to be, don’t they ? Don’t look so upset, Mike. You’re twice as smart as he is, and you’ll make mincemeat of him in court. I just meant that he surprised me, the way he handled himself before an audience.’
‘It was his audience before he opened his mouth,’ said Barrett. ‘Even if he were tongue-tied they’d have hailed him as Demosthenes. Come on, let’s get out of here.’
Faye pointed to the stage. ‘Wait a second, I think there’s going to be something more.’
Elmo Duncan had not left the platform. Standing to one side of the lectern, he was listening to a swarthy man who had materialized from somewhere and whom Barrett recognized to be Victor Rodriguez, the Assistant District Attorney. With them also was a tall, horsy woman in an expensive but unbecoming mauve-colored suit who Barrett supposed was Mrs Olivia St Clair, president of the STDL. Rodriguez had handed Duncan a sheet of paper, and seemed to be explaining something on it. Then the horsy woman appeared to be asking Duncan a question, to which he responded by nodding vigorously as he handed the paper to her.
The noise had begun to subside, but as Elmo Duncan started to leave the stage, followed by Rodriguez, the applause swelled again, and Duncan beamed gratefully and waved and came down off the stage to be swallowed up in a mass of admirers. Meanwhile, the horsy woman had made her way to the microphone above the lectern. She raised both hands for silence, the piece of paper still clutched in one gloved fist.
To still the audience, the woman screamed shrilly into the microphone, ‘Your attention, please - your attention for one more minute - because some exciting news has just come to us - something that concerns everyone here!’
Immediately the ballroom was hushed, and some quality of
triumph in the piercing voice of the STDL’s leader gave Barrett a vague premonition of disaster.
‘The most exciting news possible!’ the woman shrieked into the microphone, flying the sheet of paper from the one hand that had stayed aloft. ‘Before announcing it, ladies and gentlemen, fellow members of the Strength Through Decency League, I want to speak as your president, and for all of you -‘
This was indeed the formidable Mrs St Clair, as Barrett had guessed. She had been the instigator of the events that had led to the indictment of Ben Fremont and The Seven Minutes, and Barrett wondered what other woes she was preparing to bring down on him now.
‘ - in thanking our distinguished and eminent District Attorney for his edifying and inspiring speech here this evening,’ Mrs St Clair continued. ‘With public servants like Mr Duncan to implement our work, we know that we shall see victory in the near future. And now -‘
She held the sheet of paper up to the microphone.
‘ - now new evidence has been brought to light, most dramatically, that supports our campaign for increasing vigilance in the control of reading matter and gives our District Attorney the final ammunition he needs to defeat the forces of pornography.’
She brought the sheet of paper before her, studied it, then lifted her head.
‘Properly this is an announcement that deserves to come from our District Attorney. However, since it directly concerns and affects his prosecution of The Seven Minutes, I am advised that it would be unethical for Mr Duncan to make any public comment on the trial until it is over. While Mr Duncan has referred, and may continue to refer, to the pending trial itself, he feels he cannot discuss facts that might be considered part of the evidence in that trial. On the other hand, since the STDL has the same concerns as the District Attorney’s Office about pornography generally, and The Seven Minutes specifically, I have the obligation, as president of the STDL, to keep you informed about the most recent developments related to the prosecution of The Seven Minutes’
The audience in the ballroom remained standing, and now it awaited Mrs St Clair’s announcement with restaint intermingled with curiosity.
Barrett felt his heart begin to pound, and he waited, too.
Mrs St Clair looked up from the paper in her hand. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, fellow members, as many of us know, the original underground publisher of The Seven Minutes was a Frenchman, Christian Leroux, who knew the late J J Jadway personally and-who was the only man on earth who could possibly shed light on many questions that have continued to stand unanswered concern, ing this book and its author. All of us have asked ourselves - what manner of a man could write a book such as this? What were his
motives in writing the book? What happened to him afterward? What brought about his early death? Tonight we finally have the answers, and we have them directly from the lips of Christian Leroux, Jadway’s French publisher.’
Barrett’s heart was hammering harder, and he exchanged a wordless glance with Faye, then gave his full concentration to the stage.
‘Not more than an hour ago, in France, Christian Leroux, after deep soul-searching, emerged from hiding to offer his services to the people of California, America, the world, in the prosecution of The Seven Minutes. Christian Leroux confessed his original sin, which was in publishing the vile book. It was, he stated, an error compounded of youth, immaturity, and avarice. But now, rather than see his sin repeated by others who would corrupt mankind with this evil work, he has determined to expiate his sin and work for us in attempting to suppress The Seven Minu
tes’
(1969) The Seven Minutes Page 23