The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1917-10-10
|T'SFLANOERS
FOR LAWYERS
Times Writer Tells of
Horrific Battle Raging
at Courthouse in Suit to
Condemn Camp Lewis
Tract and How Mem
bers of Bar Fight 1t Out.
By Edgar G. Wheeler

C'mon, boys, give EN- nttle
more OF that Spanaway gravel No.
2 drum fire.
That's Scott u. Henderson. side
kick of j. T. Lyle In the Camp
Lewis condemnation knock-down-
and-drag-out.
He's the lone French howitzcr,
pounding away, sometimes silenc-
ing whole batteries of enemy big
guns and little guns in the shape
of big lawyers and little lawyers
and lawyers.
All Henderson asks Is for IA
couple of assistants from Lyle's
Office to bring up the ammunition
double quick, and he drives II
home.
The width Of a table Is No
Mans land, and on the other
side sit the generals and
lieutenants who direct opera
lions for the prairie land
owners.
John Peterson of the legal
house of Bates & Peterson, Is the
generalissimo of the latter legal
forces.
From him diverge lines OF COM
munication extending to the far
corners of the bar.
Any time one of his aides thinks
he has a new argument or thinks
he's discovered breach In Hen
derson's front, he shoots 1t up
the line double quick.
Meanwhile Peterson has to
store all these lunches in his
noodle. But he's well built for
that sort of thing. Tall and
stately, with mustache and Van
Dyke nicely trimmed off to the
fraction of centimeter, he makes
a big splash.
Above them all sits Judge
Clifford, the bald-headed lit
tie god of war, listening to
the pleas of either side.
The stage is set. Peterson's
cohorts touch their heads togeth-
err over the table, framing up a
new system Of attack. The scheme
is all perfected and they're 60
ing fine, when
Bango! The howitzer lets loose
and sets them all agog. Then the
fun begins.
Peterson arises to his full
height and waves a small piece Of
paper at the judge.
John d. Fletcher, the little,
wise-looking lawyer who ran for
Judge at the last election, whis-
pers the line of communication to
Charles o. Bates, who bring up
reinforcements.
Leo Teats gets all excited and
draws up his chair closer, as II
he had something he would like
to say.
John! john" whispers George
Williamson, bending way over in
his seat and whispering along the
line at the generalissimo, while
Henderson lets drive another
charge of sandy loan.
John shifts uneasily in his seat
and asks the judge II Henderson
ought to be allowed to waste his
ammunition like that.
Then A. R. Titlow hurries to
the front to talk words OF en-
enlargement.
Meanwhile Williamson twirls
bunch of keys, framing the next
counter attack.
That sturdy old trench mortar,
Govnor Teats, built on cement
foundation, does the shouting for
the bunch.
He wanders around the field of
battle and finally picks shell
crater somewhere. 1t may be
seat in the jury box or behind the
railing-he's never In the same
place.
He lies concealed until things
have gone far enough, and then
drops down with surprise blow.
That pleases Rates, the man
with a face like war horse, and
he peeks along the sights and gets
a range that he thinks will put
the howitzer out of business.
There's no camOuflage In
Henderson's makeup. He
smiles and lets them go to II
while he loads up another
charge of gravel.
He banks on the inexhaust-
ible supply Of ammunition
collected in Lyle's office be-
hind the firing line.
In the thick of the fray we
mustn't forget that little gray
haired diplomat of the unim-
peachable manners---Walter Har-
vey-who delights in telling the
jury about the beautiful coun-
try homes and grand estates
beautiful sky and broad stretches
OF lovely earth--out there on the
prairie"
Nor the reserves who say little
but are there just the same-E.
r. Freeman, Bob Evans, and last
but not least--Burns Poe, newest
recruit but Johnny on the Spot in
the realms of law.