Valparaiso High School - Valenian Yearbook (Valparaiso, IN)

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HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 29 F. P. DUNNE “MR. DOOLEY” ON EXPERT TESTIMONY. “Anny thing new?” said Mr. Hennessy, who had been waiting patiently for Mr. Dooley to put down his newspa- per. “I’ve been r-readin’ th’ tistimony Iv th’ Lootgert case,” said Mr. Dooley. “What d’ye think iv it?” “I think so,” said Mr. Dooley. “Think what?” “How do I know?” said Mr. Dooley. “How do I know what I think? I’m no combi-nation iv chemist, doctor, osteologist, polisman, an’ sausage-maker, that I can give ye an opinion right off th’ bat. A man needs to be all iv thim things to detarmine annything about a murdher trile in these days. This shows how intilligent our methods is, as Hogan says. A large German man is charged with put- tin’ his wife away into a breakfus’-dish, an’ he says he didn’t do it. Th’ question, thin, is: Did or did not Alphonse Lootgert stick Mrs. L. into a vat, an’ rayjoose her to a quick lunch? Am I right?” “Ye ar-re,” said Mr. Hennessy. “That’s simple enough. What th’ Coort ought to’ve done was to call him up, an’ say: ' Lootgert, where’s ye’er good woman?’ If Lootgert cudden’t tell, he ought to be hanged on gin’ral principles; f’r a man must kepp his wife around th’ house, an’ whin she isn’t there it shows he’s a poor pro- vider. But, if Lootgert says, ‘I don’t know where me wife is,’ the Coort shud say: ‘Go out an’ find her. If ye can’t projoose her in a week, I’ll fix ye.’ An’ let that be th’ end iv it “But what do they do? They get Lootgert into coort an’ stand him up befure a gang iv young rayporthers an’ th’ c.-) likes iv thim to make pitchers iv him. Thin they summon I a jury composed iv poor, tired, sleepy expressmen an’ tail- ors an’ clerks. Thin they call in a profissor from a col- ledge. ‘Profissor,’ says th’ lawyer f’r th’ State, ‘I put it to ye if a wooden vat three huudherd an’ sixty feet long, twenty-eight feet deep, an’ sivinty-five feet wide, an’ if three hundherd pounds iv caustic sode boiled, an’ if the leg iv a guinea pig, an’ ye said yestherday about bi-carbonate iv sode, an’ if it washes up an’ washes over, an’ th’ slimy, slippery stuff, an’ if a false tooth or a lock iv hair or a © gawbone or a goluf ball across th’ cellar eleven feet nine ® inches— that is, two inches this way an’ five gallons that?’ jg ‘I agree with ye intirely,’ says th’ profissor. ‘I made lab- g ’ratory experiments in an’ ir’n basin, with bi-chloride iv ® gool, which I will call soup-stock, an’ coal tar, which I will 5 call ir’n filings. I mixed th’ two over a hot fire, an’ left in i a cool place to haruen. I thin packed it in ice.which I will ) call glue, an’ rock-salt, which I will call fried eggs, an’ ob- ) tained a dark, queer solution that is a cure f’r freckles, J which I will call antimony or doughnuts or annything I ) blamed please.’ “ ‘But,’ says th’ lawyer f’r th’ State, ‘measurin’ th’ vat j with gas — an’ I lave it to ye whether this is not th’ on’y fair test — an’ supposin’ -that tw T o feet acrost is akel to tin feet sideways, an’ supposin’ that a thick green an’ hard sub- } stance, an’ I daresay it wud; an’ supposin’ you may, takin’ into account th’ measurements — twelve by eight — th’ vat bein’ wound with twine six inches fr’m th’ handle an’ a ! rub iv th’ green, thin ar’re not human teeth often found in counthry sausage?’ ‘In th’ winter,’ says th’ profissor. ‘But ! tli’ sisymoid bone is sometimes seen in th’ fut, sometimes 1 worn as a watch-charm. I took two sisymoid bones, which @ I will call poker dice, an’ shook thim together in a cylinder.

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CLASS OP 1905 ZADA CARR BESSIE CLIFFORD ALICE TALCOTT ADA ROESSLER GEORGE MCNAY RAY LAWRENCE CLEVE STALBAUM KACID LAWRENCE MARTI1A BENTLEY KATHRYN LEDERER MARY CONRICK

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30 HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL which I will call Fido, poored in a can iv milk, which I will call gum arabic, took two pounds iv rough-on-rats, which I rayfuse to call; but th’ raysult is th’ same.’ Question be th’ Coort; ‘Different?’ Answer: ‘Yis. Th’ Coort: ‘Th’ same.’ Be Misther McEwen: ‘Whose bones?’ Answer: ‘Yis.’ Be Misther Vincent: ‘Will ye go to th’ divvle?’ An- swer: ‘It dissolves th’ hair.’ “Now, what I want to know is where th’ jury gets off. What has that collection iv pure-minded pathrites to larn fr’m this here polite discussion, where no wan is so crool as to ask what anny wan else means? Thank th’ Lord, whin th’ case is all over, th’ jury’ll pitch th’ tistimony out iv th’ window, an’ consider three questions: ‘Did Lootgert look as though he’d kill his wife? Did his wife look as though she ought to be kilt? Isn’t it time we wint to sup- per?’ An’, howiver they answer, they’ll be right, an’ it’ll make little diff’rence wan way or th’ other. Th’ German vote is too large an’ ignorant, annyhow.” THE TRIALS OF AN EDITOR. At the table in his sanctum Sat the editor-in-chief. And his face looked drawn and haggard; he wore signs of recent grief. There were only two more hours, Ere the paper went to press, And his brain was in a muddle, And his manuscript a mess. Of copy he had just enough To fill up half the space; So you’ll see he had good reason For such a mournful face. Had developed every plot he knew, In stores quite romantic; And displayed his erudition In editorials pedantic. He had read and read exchanges, Full of articles inane; Published poem after poem, Till he almost went insane. From epic down to jingle. And in every kind of verse, It was handed in the bunches. Till it made him want to curse. Every would-be doggerel writer Tried to do his little stunt; And our dear, good-nearted editor Had to bear of it the brunt. The lamp was getting lower; With a splutter and a flare. It went out, and left the editor A-slumbering in his chair. Execrating would-be poets, At last he’d gone to sleep, And dreamed he was in Heaven, There his just reward to reap. He was set upon a pedestal Of onyx, pure and white. Where a poem ne’er could reach him. And where everything looked bright. For no matter what your life may be, They never count your sin If you’ve held the job of editor — ’Tis enough to let you in.