Mother Jones - The Autobiography of Mother Jones

"I never heard that before," said he.

A chap came tiptoeing up to me and whispered, "Madam, don't say 'judge' or 'sir' to the court. Say 'Your Honor.'"

"Who is the court?" I whispered back.

"His honor, on the bench," he said, looking shocked.

"Are you referring to the old chap behind the justice counter? Well, I can't call him 'your honor' until I know how honorable he is. You know I took an oath to tell the truth when I took the witness stand."

When the court session closed I was told that the judge wished to see me in his chambers. When I entered the room, the judge reached out his hand and took hold of mine, and he said, "I wish to give you proof that I am not a scab; that I didn't scab on my father."

He handed me documents which proved that the reports were wrong and had been circulated by his enemies.

"Judge," I said, "I apologize. And I am glad to be tried by so human a judge who resents being called a scab. And who would not want to be one. You probably understand how we working people feel about it."

He did not sentence me, just let me go, but he gave the men who were arrested with me sixty and ninety days in jail.

I was going to leave Parkersburg the next night for Clarksburg. Mr. Murphy, a citizen of Parkersburg, came to express his regrets that I was going away. He said he was glad the judge did not sentence me. I said to him, "If the injunction was violated I was the only one who violated it. The boys did not speak at all. I regret that they had to go to jail for me and that I should go free. But I am not trying to break into jails. It really does not matter much; they are young and strong and have a long time to carry on. I am old and have much yet to do. Only Barney Rice has a bad heart and a frail, nervous wife. When she hears of his imprisonment, she may have a collapse and perhaps leave her little children without a mother's care."

Mr. Murphy said to me, "Mother Jones, I believe that if you went up and explained Rice's condition to the judge he would pardon him."

I went to the judge's house. He invited me to dinner.

"No, Judge," I said, "I just came to see you about Barney Rice."

"What about him?"

"He has heart disease and a nervous wife."

"Heart disease, has he?"

"Yes, he has it bad and he might die in your jail. I know you don't want that."

"No," replied the judge,"I do not."

He called the jailer and asked him to bring Rice to the phone. The judge said, "How is your heart, Barney?"

"Me heart's all right, all right," said Barney. "It's that damn old judge that put me in jail for sixty days that's got something wrong wid his heart. I was just trailing around with Mother Jones."

"Nothing wrong with your heart, eh?"

"No, there ain't a damn thing wrong wid me heart! Who are you anyhow that's talking?"

"Never mind, I want to know what is the matter with your heart?"

"Hell, me heart's all right, I'm telling you."

The judge turned to me and said, "Do you hear his language?"

I told him I did not hear and he repeated to me Barney's answers. "He swears every other word," said the judge.

"Judge," said I, "that is the way we ignorant working people pray."

"Do you pray that way?"

"Yes, judge, when I want an answer quick."

"But Barney says there is nothing the matter with his heart."

"Judge, that fellow doesn't know the difference between his heart and his liver. I have been out to meetings with him and walking home down the roads or on the railroad tracks, he has had to sit down to get his breath."

The judge called the jail doctor and told him to go and examine Barney's heart in the morning. Meantime I asked my friend, Mr. Murphy, to see the jail doctor. Well, the next day Barney was let out of jail.

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