“What is the trouble now?” asked a friend who found the sedate Dr. Saliba puffing furiously on his pipe, a frown on his face.
“The world has gone to the dogs,” said the doctor, “and potatoes are now worth more than a woman.”
“How come?”
“Well, I see by the evening paper that a colored man who stole a wagonload of potatoes last spring has been placed under $1,200 bond, pending trial. On the same page is the story of a married man who deserted his wife and child, brought a young woman to this town, lived with her two years and had a child by her; and now, when he is charged with the Federal crime of ‘white slavery,’ he is placed under bond of only $400.”
“Well,” ventured the doctor’s friend, “the woman has accused the man of stealing her honor.”
“Nor did the potatoes accuse the negro,” said the doctor.
“But the owner of the potatoes did,” returned the friend. “The law must protect the property rights of the owner. The thief is responsible to the owner of the potatoes and society as well.”
“That’s the idea exactly, in the case of the woman,” said the doctor, not to be outdone. “Only this is a more serious case. The law must respect the property rights of society, and this woman is property of society.”
“All true,” said the friend, “but in the case of the thief, the rights were violated without the consent of the owner, while in the case of the woman, the stolen commodity must have been an accessory before the fact.”
“Bum argument,” said the doctor. “The woman, perhaps, was no more an accessory than the potatoes. You remember the potatoes couldn’t talk; they could not defend the fellow after he had been apprehended, as in the case of the woman, who can speak and is a better judge of things.”
“All true,” replied the friend, “but you get away from the main issue. The negro stole $100 worth of potatoes, which might have represented the entire net income of the farmer for the season. This loss of potatoes might have brought serious hardship on the farmer and is family; the loss of the money they would have brought might result in the loss of a home on which payments were due. It might have deprived his children and made them a burden on the community. All of these things could have resulted from---.”
“Bosh! Let us stop arguing,” interrupted the doctor. “Acts are judged by motives. In the case of the man who stole the potatoes, the motive was monetary gain. In the case of the man who committed the immoral crime, the motive was the satisfying of a debased passion; and the result was the inflicting of a terrible punishment on the mother, the desertion of an innocent child, the ruin of a young woman’s character, and the placing of stigma on a new-born babe.
“I can forgive a man committing a cruel act against his fellow in a fit of passion, or when under the influence of alcoholic intoxication, but it is hard to forgive a man and let him go scot free after repeating his criminal acts, hour after hour, day after day, and even year after year. He must be a well seasoned scoundrel; he must have lost all the feelings of response to his conscience. And when such a man faces the pure, innocent, refined, noble womanhood of Elizabeth City, and boasts of the saying that they are no better than himself, it angers me to such an extent as to call him a damned cad and a despicable scoundrel; for he ‘haughtily boasts of that for which he should bow his head in shame.’”
From The Independent, Elizabeth City, N.C., Tuesday, Dec. 12, 1922
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