Twelve Jurors

For 23 days "twelve good men and true" sat on their benches and listened. Prosecutors snarled at lawyers, lawyers snarled at prosecutors. Bulging briefcases spilled their contents on gleaming tables. People talked about German corporations, champagne parties at the Ritz, a suicide, millions of dollars' worth of stock, thousands of dollars' worth of Liberty bonds, burned bank records, conspiracy. . . . Many times the narrative became incoherent, drowned in a flood of legal monstrosities. . . . Sometimes the twelve jurors had to poke each other to fight sleep. . . .

Then, one day last week, they awoke to the hard reality of deciding on the conspiracy or innocence of onetime (1921-24) U. S. Attorney General Harry Micajah Daugherty and onetime (1921-25) Alien Property Custodian Thomas Woodnutt Miller, who were charged with fraudulently allowing the transfer of $7,000,000 in stock in the American Metal Co. back to the original German owners. The defense lawyers had summed up their cases. Colonel William Rand, attorney for Colonel Miller, did it curtly. Max D. Steuer, in behalf of Mr. Daugherty, did it emotionally.* Prosecutor Emory Buckner in his final address announced that "we have the goods on Miller" but that the Government's case against Mr. Daugherty was "more difficult."

"If you acquit Harry Daugherty and Tom Miller," Mr. Buckner bellowed, "I want no more public office."

Judge Julian W. Mack called the twelve jurors to him, explained to them the law and the charges, told them to start deliberating. That night they called for a section of the exhibits (evidence); pondered thereon; went to their rooms at the Hotel McAlpin, Manhattan. All the next day at the federal building they tried to reach a decision, failed. Judge Mack told them to try again. More nights in locked hotel rooms, more days in a stuffy juryroom with peekers looking through the windows . . . blasphemy, threats . . stubborn Juror No. 9 . . . sick Juror No. 6 who had been shell-shocked in the War . . . 36 hours, 48 hours, 60 hours. . . .

At the end of the 66th hour, the "twelve good men and true" with circles under their eyes, as gloomy as craters in the moon again walked into the courtroom. Harry Daugherty watched them with one eye, covered his other inflamed one with a handkerchief. Colonel Miller chewed gum. Mrs. Miller bit her finger nails. Judge Mack wearily asked them: "Have you arrived at a verdict, gentlemen?"

"We have not. . . . The situation is hopeless," said Juror No. 1, the foreman.

"Then I shall not hold you any longer," Judge Mack replied.

Later Juror No. 8 told the press that the jury stood ten to two for conviction of onetime Alien Property Custodian Miller, and six to six on onetime Attorney General Daugherty.

Prosecutor Buckner remembered five dismal weeks in a courtroom, dismal months of gathering evidence. He announced: "We never decide on the question of a new trial for at least a month. The Government has no apologies--we did our best."

*Said Lawyer Steuer: "Harry Daugherty --yesterday, sought after by all the land; today, hounded; a broken old man; his life spent; his best friend, the President, dead; his close friend Jess Smith, gone, a suicide ; his wife gone; his political career over. He went to the 'shack,' and those whom the gods would destroy they first make mad. So this lonesome old man, alone with those records, destroyed them. . . ."