Originally published in The Vidette-Messenger of Porter County on October 4, 1935.
JOHN DOE IS ALL WORN OUT OVER A TRYING EXPERIENCE; FINDS HIMSELF ON A REAL TOUGH SPOT
BY HAF BAKT
(As Told to Avery B. Weaver)
“Unadulterated persecution, that’s what I call it!”
“And that’s why I’m on my way to get me a new pair o’ pants!”
With this as a starter, John Doe, that elusive myth of the nation’s barristers, accused of every conceivable crime from trespass to mayhem, launched into a terrific tirade today.
“What’s persecution got to do with pants?” his companion, who had stopped him under the protective elms of the courthouse square, queried.
Doe, dejected and woebegone, nonchalantly pulled a set of teeth out of his back pocket and inserted them in his mouth for better enunciation.
“I’ll tell ya about it,” he said, parking his long, lanky frame on a bench to keep out the chilling north wind.
“It all happened in a Valparaiso cafe yestidy. I stumbled into one to imbibe and hear the world series broadcast. Ya see I was ‘specially interested cause I was bettin’ on the Cards.”
His companion gave him a couple of uplifted eyebrows and then shook his head, motioning for him to continue.
“I sidled up to the bar, spread myself on a stool and coughed for a drink and was sippin’ it when the first batter came up.”
“Is he related to you?” his companion queried.
“Is who related to who,” Doe shot back, clicking his store teeth for emphasis.
“Batter, of course. Your name’s Doe isn’t it? and doesn’t Batter make Doe or Doe batter, er somethin’?”
That made John madder than ever and just for a future reminder he poked his finger into his listener’s eye.
“So I sat on the stool, drinkin’ health to them ballplayers,” Doe went on, “when all of a sudden the band played Star Spangled Banner.”
“On the radio you mean,” his pal said.
“Yup. And two ominous-looking shadows appeared over each of my shoulders and flat-feet stuck out all over them. I knew they was G-men, we Boy Scouts maybe. So I slid off the stool and stood up to show my patrioticness.”
“Go on, go on,” his bench mate said.
“And one of the men grabbed my shoulder and said, you’re under arrest, and I says what fur, and he says for violatin’ the state’s liquor law.”
“You’ll have to show me,” Doe dared.
“And with that he tells me it’s against the law to drink in a cafe without sittin’ down. I asks him for another chance and sits down.”
“Then,” Doe continues, “the other flatfoot grabs me and says, ‘you’re under arrest.’
“Twould of floored me if I had not wanted to keep the other fellow from pippin’ up again, so I axed them what all the by-play was.
“The second coat puller announces as how I’m violation’ a federal law or bill or patriotic measure, for not standin’ when the national anthem is being slayed. And there I was. So I started down off the stool and got up again and hopped off and do you know I kept that up ‘till I wore the seat off my pants. That’s why I got to get me a new pair.”
“Sis they arrest you?” Doe’s companion asked.
“No,” Doe concluded, “they says I’d been on the hot seat long enough and would probably know better next time.”
“Goodbye,” says Doe, “it’s gettin’ kinda cold,” and then he left.
Latest reports today are that he had been taken into the Liars Club as an honorary member.