Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1921-04-23
BunCO Probe Turned Into
JHdge JohnSIng5 Matinee
When DarktOzVn TeStl1IeS
BY WARD GREENE

The bunco probe Thursday night
took on the deep, dark hue of Jedge
Johnsing's police matinee, with Lu-
cile Evans, Zet Trimble, Nat and Joe
McWhorter furnished the color and
ia bit of the atmosphere, too.
Lucille is a CORTLAND street bru-
nette whose present residence is the
Fulton county tower. OF course, the
police pin-hed her when she hadn't
''Dey said L Wuz vi-latin' de state
probish'un law, but L Wuzn't. l
bought it to drink, not to sell"
Lucille made most agreeable wit
ness for both sides. She agreed with
everybody. If the the prosecution
did. If the defense wanted her to
eXonerate d detective, she did. Her
testimony was a chain of yes, sirs"
and mo, sirs," in response to a vol
ley of he had, didn't hep or 'he
didn't, did hep
Finally, Lucille got mad about the
whole business. Sne didn't know who
got her into this mess-testifyin' be-
fore lawyer folks and everything
but she had her suspicious.
Il specs it was dat ere Castleber-
ry boy,"f she declared morosely.
Life, the audience decided, would
not be so rosy for the Castleberry
DOS IIlS HS[AI IllllS lie anu LuClIS lIlSl'
Zet Trimble wore blue overal1s
from his feet to his neck. Above them
his shiny bald head rose like the
nose of bullet. He walled his eyes
at the lawyers and spoke the brogue
Of the cornfield transplanted to the
city.
"Yas, suh," said Zet "dey found fo'
gallons in the grafola! How many
times is L been in de chain gang?
Il I-.,f Ill
l been dar right smart. Salt an
an idle-lottrin'''
What was that last?" asked a
lawyer.
"Idle-lottrin', white folks" repeat
ed Zet. You know-aint done moth
in. An I had me a good job all de
while
Who arrested you, boy?" demand
ed Attorney Jones' Detectives or
policemen"
BOTS, [ spec" replied Zet. Amy
ways, whut's de diffunce? Electives in
de night, policies in de day-;all de
same"
"rhey were making a cleanup of
the town, weren't they?"
"Mebbe dey wuz. But dey wuzn't
cleanin' up nobody but me dat night"
zet referred to the grand jury as
de gran juries." He spoke of Judge
Johnson as dat Ill jedge down to de
po-leece." He said he couldn't write
his name-'nor anybody else's."
When the police arrested him. for
"idle-lottrin'," he said, he had gone
to the station house to get girl out
of jail.
Who was she?' asked a lawyer
Zet hung his head. Probably he
was blushing
Gal name er Vera" he said soft
ly.
The lawyers forebore.
Nat McWhorter was long and tall
and pale. He was the type the dark
les refer to in that mysterious man
ner when they spoke of the long,
tall yaller niger who sole me dat
licker-dont' know his name" His
suit was brown check. 1t looked
like one of the mail-order ADVERTISE
ments of peg-top pants and fancy
pockets. But the suit belied Nc
Whorter's real standing as a capital
list.
What do you do, Nat?"
Drives a boss cab
But you own an automobile, don't
you?"
"Yas, sub, own two-Hudson an
Stutz'
What are they-pleasure cars?"
inquired Alderman Goodhart.
Nat grinned. Oats right, l
spec"
Nat laid everything on his wife.
When they asked him if he ever gave
any officer money, he said, Boss, is
[ 'bleeged to answer that qustion?"
And when they pressed him, he de-
clared, Nah wife-she tend to all
dat"
He denied he paid an officers ex-
penses to California and back.