Judge William C. Heacock (Dates Unknown) In the 1880s, Judge William C. Heacock was the law in Albuquerque, New Mexico—he wrote it, enforced it, and adjudicated it. When not reading legal doom to rambunctious waddies or thinking up new offenses requiring hefty fines (of which he received a percentage), Judge Heacock’s favorite pastimes were swilling whiskey and dealing three-card monte in the back room of the saloon where he conducted court. As a three-card monte dealer, Judge Heacock was better than average, but even gamblers who know what they’re doing occasionally get hosed by the fickle fates. Such was Judge Heacock’s lot one afternoon in 1883 as he sat drinking and dealing. He was surrounded by marks eager to hand over their wages, but a bad run of luck had left him utterly bereft of funds. Annoyed, he sent for his deputies, who were drinking out front in the saloon, and ordered them to go arrest a drunk. And not just any ol’ drunk, mind: a drunk with money. The deputies returned a short while later, dragging a man with them. The ensuing conversation went something like this: Judge: Is he drunk? Deputy: He’s dead, sir. Judge: Dead drunk? Deputy: Plain ol’ dead, sir. Judge: Explain yourself. Deputy: He died up there, sittin’ at the bar. People wanted us to take him away. Judge: You imbecile. This is a court of law. How am I to have an inquest? Deputy: Couldn’t say, sir. Judge: Well, the writ of habeas corpus is there for a reason. Bring the accused forward. Deputy: What’s the charge, sir? Judge: Never mind that for now. Did you frisk the man? Deputy: Here and there, sir. Judge: Does he have any money? Deputy: A little better than 20 dollars, sir. And some pennies, sir. Judge: Splendid. (Addressing the corpse.) What have you to say for yourself? Well? Talk, man! (Raps his whiskey glass on the table like a gavel.) Your arrogant silence leaves me no choice but to find you in contempt of court. For that you will pay a fine and court costs to the tune of 20 dollars. (More rapping with the glass.) Court is adjourned. Since it’s too late to call the undertaker, haul the prisoner out to the shed before he starts to ripen. Judge Heacock, armed now with a crisp 20-dollar bill, went back to his game and his bottle. Witnesses say he won big.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Jul 2013 23:54:28 +0000
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