CLERK STOLE MONEY
FOR SICK BROTHER.
IN CONSEQUENCE JUDGE POL-
LOCK IS LENIENT.
Editor of Art Book Fined Nominal
Sum and Escapes Payment.
Other Federal Offend-
ers Sentenced.
It was sentencing day in the United States district court yesterday. Judge Pollock of Kansas was on the bench. Alfred Friend, formerly a clerk in the New England National bank had stolen out-of-town remittances by means of juggling accounts in the bank. The government prosecuted him for getting only $5, but he was supposed to have got about $2,000. After everything in the case was told Judge Pollock undertook to examine the prisoner on his own account.
"What made you do it?" he inquired.
"This made me do it, sir," Friend replied, displaying a small packet of letters and holding them out towards the bench. "Would your honor read them, please?"
FOR HIS SICK BROTHER.
Judge Pollock scanned some of them, interrupting his perusal to ask:
"And did you send the money to this sick brother of yours?"
"I have the money order receipt for it," Friend then said, at the same time producing another paper and handing it to Judge Pollock.
After reflecting a minute the court announced that as Friend had been confined to jail for six months, had lost his employment and had not profited by his thievery, he would be let off with a fine of $500, which means only thirty days in jail. The United States government never holds a prisoner longer than thirty days in liquidation of a fine, no matter how bit it may be.
JULIUS WAS SURPRISED.
Julius Planca, a Frenchman, who was surprised to know that it is contrary to the laws of this country to sell liquor without a license, was fined $10 and costs for bootlegging in a railroad camp east of the city. Arthur Anderson, a 14-year-old boy from the southeast part of the county, was given the same punishment for stealing stamps and coppers from rural free delivery boxes.
A week ago William Soper robbed the little postoffice at Mount Washington, just outside Kansas City's eastern limits, and got $2.50. Yesterday he got a year and a half in the government prison at Fort Leavenworth. He pleaded guilty, saying to Judge Pollock that he would not have broken into the store where the postoffice was had he known it was a postoffice.
"You would rather have broken the state than the federal laws, would you?" the court remarked, adding, dryly, "Either is wrong."
THAT'S WHEN HE GETS IT.
James A. Pope, editor of the Art Book, who was arrested a month ago on a complaint of a rival in business in St. Louis, got off handsomely. Pope had sent out printed post cards saying that he still owned the copyright to his journal, and that the issues being turned out by his rivals were false. He classified somebody as a "hunchback," and for that got into trouble. He would have gone to jail for the intervening nine weeks, having no bondsmen here, only for friends his tough-luck story made for him. As it turned out, District Attorney Van Valkenburgh took his personal recognizance and let him go. Yesterday the art editor, who is about 20 years of age, turned up "to take my medicine, as I said I would," he said. Judge Pollock heard his story and at the conclusion said:
"Have you $1 and the costs of this case?"
"I have not, sir," replied the editor, showing how dull business in the art journal business is just at present.
"Then if I fine you $1 you will have to go to jail, will you?" the court asked next.
"Yes, sir," the editor-prisoner replied.
"Then it will not do to try to collect it. The punishment will be a fine of $1 and costs, collectible upon execution," and slam went the judge's docket and another case was taken up. Pope did not know what was up, so he took his seat near one of the deputy marshals, supposing it was jail again in view of the fact that he had not the dollar and costs. While in the middle of the next case Judge Pollock caught sight of the little art editor's long curly hair and had to order him to freedom.
"You can get out, Pope," the court said. "That fine against you is collectible upon execution."
It took two lawyers and a deputy to explain this to Pope, who could scarcely believe all his good luck was real.
