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Show The Autobiography of Ephraim Tutt (A Book Review) I first met Ephraim Tutt on the banks of Oak Creek when we both were fishing; the German browns were rising to his casts, but not to mine; "Try this fly," said he, and handed me a fly from his kit which he had tied. It was deftly made by a master mas-ter of the angling craft. The friendship following was a lasting one. Imagine my surprise, when the next Monday I went to court at Fillmore, and this ancient relic of a bygone generation, high plug hat, Abe Lincoln coat, and trousers unpressed was conducting a case before the jury, and just when old Shylock, who had the mortgage, was about to let the law run over the fair form of Hepzibiah Innocence, old Tutt severed the legal cords binding her (and her farm) to the rails, and snatched the prize out of harms way! Till then I had no idea that this quaint and old-fashioned old-fashioned fogey (is the word correct?) was a lawyer law-yer of merit, and had been briefing that very case on the banks of Oak Creek, and had greased the wheels of justice by giving the principal witness in Oak City a fine mess of fish. Purity walked out of court intact, proud and erect, grateful to her hero old Shylock licked his wounds. In his- autobiography, Eph takes up his childhood, child-hood, under his dad, stern, harsh, a Bible reader, and unkindly in the poverty that was theirs; the incident in-cident of the jack knife brings this out aptly. The father helps him for a year at school, but the rift between be-tween them opens after the mother dies, and Eph leaves the parental fold not to return for years. His life at Harvard; poor, ill clad; and the subject sub-ject of butts from the rich young snobs who were idly spending their dad's patrimony, while Eph was lodged in an attic, digging out "A's" to win .a scholarship. schol-arship. He graduates with four degrees, and finally hangs his shingle out at Pottsville. One of his class mates, whom he lightly knew, was Cal, Cal the cool, Cal the stingy, later to become be-come Cal Coolidge, the president of the U.S.A. He goes to New York; he is voting the Democratic Democra-tic ticket, helps Boss Croker when the tzar of the Dirty Wards had fallen on the pavement, is given a card at the club door, next day is ushered into the Boss's sacred presence, and comes out Assistant District Attorney of New York City. Tutt's intimate and inner knowledge of political graft, corruption, prostitution, vice, murders the book must be read to be appreciated. It is a perfect reflection of that time and hour, by one on the inside, "in the know," and portrays dirty politics, police graft, the buying of "justice" on all sides. He goes to a "legal factory;" a regular "Main Street" four-flushing joint; busts his way out, when he sees "experts" bought in advance, a ring of price fixers, giving the reader an insight into that phase that is startling. Tutt moralizes just a little, and at intervals giving an astute difference between Justice and the Law, how the law can be rigidly adhered to and yet proper justice not given. But these infrequent moralizations do not tire or bore, but stimulate to reflection and thought. Eph goes to England, in an American hurry and meets English rigidity in fixed form, traditions which are iron-clad; his hurry avails him nothing. In the interim, he is entertained, meets many prominent prom-inent English high-ranking Lords and Ladies; gets into the Cavendish hotel, and in that one chapter gives one reading matter that is delightful. While there, he meets an American girl of money, who had married an empty title, in the form of a dissolute disso-lute and unfaithful husband, who tries to, gyp her plenty; Tutt cables the Dad in America, gets the funds, and has the wife kidnap the children, put them on a tanker, and skiddoo. And for it he is praised not censored, even by the English, who themselves wouldn't have dared this slashing of the Gordion Knot. In a trial over here, he gives you a chapter of the inner discussion within a jury room what a revealing chapter. But, says he, from his experience, experi-ence, he'd rather go with a case to a jury than to the judge, because he had seen so many judges "fixed." Of course, with my hobby for things Indian, when I found that both he and I were Sachems, he a Sachem to the Camels of King Menelik, and I a Sachem to the Utes, another binding tie was formed between us. Tutt explains very thoroughly what other autobiographies auto-biographies are (the author in moods, egotistically high, noble, glorious, a liar of the first water), and then proceeds to give you just the opposite a book packed, not about him, but of events, which he saw from the side lines. ' I have thoroughly enjoyed the Autobiography of Ephraim Tutt. |