Chapter VII: Programs and Pleadings

Pleadings are the programs of the performance. They are printed beforehand and everybody gets a copy. Preparation consists in the rehearsal and the carpentry of setting the scene. Any lawyer knows how important the pleadings are, but nobody else does. The judge does not pay any more attention to them than he has to. Juries hardly ever see them; if they did, they could not understand them. The witnesses never hear of them, the clients have sworn they have read them and have sworn that they are true. Yet not one client in a thousand could give an explanation of them other than, "My lawyer told me to sign it, so I did."

Whenever anyone gets anxious to understand a pleading, there are so many volumes about the subject and so many bookcases of decisions they would furnish a house. All this may appear flippant, but the subject is so absurd, abstruse, and abnormal to a man of business, that it is almost impossible to make it understandable. A partial list of authorities on the subject sounds like a chapter from _Alice in Wonderland_: Pepper on Pleading; Perry on Pleading; Pollock on Pleading; Pound on Pleading; Puterbaugh on Pleading; Phillips on Pleading; Pomeroy on Pleading. The number of court decisions in which this branch of the proceeding has been reverently and gravely dealt with reads like a metaphysical discussion in the dark ages. The names formerly used were superb. Complaint, demurrer, confession and avoidance, traverse, replication, dilatory pleas, peremptory pleas, rejoinder, rebutter, and sur-rebutter.

On the other hand the clear, concise technical statement of a case is not a matter to be laughed at; no clear thinking is possible without it. No plain understanding of what the drama is about, nor what the issues of the battle are, can be grasped. Good lawyers are good thinkers and usually plain talkers. The present-day revolt against the confused pleadings may go to the opposite extreme and abolish them all, leaving the case to be presented as formless and loose. The vexed question of the proper form of a pleading may delay justice until it is determined on appeal from the City Court to the Supreme Court, then to the Appellate Division, then to the Court of Appeals. In the meanwhile the clients may die, the money in suit may be lost, while the audience is waiting merely for the programs to be printed.

In Perry on _Common Law Pleading_, reprinted in 1897, chapter thirteen is devoted to rules which tend to prevent obscurity and confusion in pleading.

RULE I. Pleadings must not be insensible or repugnant.
RULE II. Pleadings must not be ambiguous or doubtful.
RULE III. Pleadings must not be argumentative.
RULE IV. Pleadings must not be hypothetical or in the alternative.
RULE V. Pleadings must not be by way of recital, but must be
positive.
RULE VI. Things are to be pleaded according to their legal effect.
RULE VII. Pleadings should observe the known forms of expression as
contained in approved precedents.
RULE VIII. Pleadings should have their proper formal commencements
and conclusions.
RULE IX. A pleading which is bad in part is bad altogether.

These are pleasant rules for a layman to understand, and any time he has a day off or a holiday he should study them.

"Shocking," cries the old-fashioned reactionary lawyer, "What! Do away with pleadings, you might as well do away with the whole case. Pleadings are like the rails for a train. No one on the train sees them, but take away the rails and the train would not go very far. Pleadings are the groundwork of the trial."

He grows more and more indignant.

"The trouble with the modern courts is that they do not know what they are about. If this business of loosening the forms of pleadings had not taken place, lawyers would be better prepared when they came into court and there would not be this floundering about. The good old common law pleadings were the thing. It was a great mistake when they were abandoned. Then everyone knew where they were. If there was a mistake in the pleading then the whole case was thrown out of court. That was as it should be. Men had to be good and careful lawyers in those days. The slipshod methods of the present time are abominable."

"You seem to be a little hard," says the modern lawyer. "Justice ought not to depend on forms."

"You can never have justice without formalizing and shaping the dispute," says the lawyer.

"Quite true," says the modern, "but there has been too much attention paid to the form of justice. Pleadings are the mere mechanics like printing the program or laying the rail."

However, this is all a question that does not come up in the court-room at a trial. Once or twice some reference is made to the pleadings. Perhaps there is some such dispute as this. The defendant attempts to swear that he "paid for the goods then and there." The other lawyer jumps up and says, "I object, your Honor. In his answer he does not plead payment. He only pleads a general denial." The judge puts on his spectacles. The lawyers gather, business stops while everyone looks at the pleadings.

Or again the plaintiff tries to show that when he was thrown from the wagon he bruised his right elbow. The counsel objects there is nothing about injuries to his right elbow in the Bill of Particulars, therefore he can not prove it. The Bill of Particulars says that he hurt his hand, scratched the forearm, and injured the right shoulder, but says nothing about the elbow. Grave consultation by the learned lawyers and the judge ensues. The defendant's lawyer is right, there is nothing in the pleadings about the elbow.

The case can not go on until that important question is settled. There is argument on both sides. The client looks anxious. The jury sit and wonder what that phrase of "the delay of the law" may mean. Finally a bright idea occurs to the lawyer.

"I move to amend, your Honor, so as to include the elbow." The other side looks shocked and disgusted. "What, move to amend in such a casual way as that. The pleading is a serious thing. It has been sworn to, you may not amend a sworn statement in that offhand way." The judge says that he will allow the amendment but if the other side is surprised he will grant an adjournment of the trial to another day. The other side says, "Pardon me a moment until I consult with my client." The judge smiles. The lawyer goes over to his client and the client says, "For goodness' sake don't adjourn. I've broken up my business for a week to come here now; what's all this fuss about pleadings; let's get on with the case." The lawyer returns to the bar. "We have decided to proceed."

"Amendment allowed," says the judge. The witness now tells about hurting his elbow.

The preparation of a case goes on behind the scenes and before the drama begins. The attempts to rehearse are piece-meal. First one witness is seen, then another, their stories are told, their statements are taken, and they are drilled in their parts. They are told as to what facts they must testify. In one large company that has a quantity of damage suits, there is said to be a school for witnesses where there are dress rehearsals and they are taught how to behave in court.

The greatest farce that occurs in the court-room is the part of preparation that is involved in getting a case on for trial. There being no limit to the time to examine witnesses, to hear arguments, to listen to objections, it is said to be impossible to tell how long a case is going to take. Consequently the calendar having been called, the cases following are answered ready, by office-boys with no expectation of their being immediately reached.

The grave and reverend judge looks over his desk and calls the case of Bowring _vs._ Bowring. "Ready for the plaintiff," answers a rosy-cheeked boy. "Ready for the defendant," answers another. They look rather young to be trying a case. It is marked ready and the office-boys sit about the court and telephone to the lawyers when they think there is a chance of being nearly reached. This often takes several days. In the meanwhile the cases ahead of the Bowring case have been dragging out their slow and weary performance on the court stage. Matters of fact that should have taken five minutes to bring out by the present usual laborious system of proof, have taken two hours. Argument of counsel on abstruse questions of law have worn and confused the jury and the clients, who have become exhausted and impatient.

The clients and witnesses may have been sitting, trying to understand and becoming more and more mystified.

The dealings of open-handed Justice ought to be plain, prompt, and understandable; instead to the spectator she seems a mysterious jade with no understanding of everyday life. She keeps them waiting there without reason. If the case is marked ready it ought to be ready. The business man feels that Justice is extremely tardy in keeping her appointments.

His natural reverence for abstract Justice prevents him formulating these thoughts, but he continues to wonder. Not understanding the cause he becomes dissatisfied and his experience in court leaves a profound contempt for the system of jurisprudence. He thinks that if any man conducted his own business on the method and plans on which the courts are being run he would soon be bankrupt.

"Why," he says, "does not the court get in an efficiency expert on this calendar evil and have it arranged on a business basis?"

During the days the case has been on the calendar the lawyer has had to hold himself in readiness to try the case. The managing clerk has been sending out for his witnesses. They have been served with subpoenas and paid their fees to come to court on the day the case was first marked ready. They arrive and are told to come again the next day. They also have a respect for the court and are glad to come to do their duty and tell the truth. The truth is mighty and will prevail; but in court she can only speak through witnesses. Unless the witness be treated with consideration it would seem that she will not speak very willingly.

In place of having them return and return again, some system soon will be devised of giving them timely notice when the case is to be reached. Exhausting the patience of the men who are the props and mainstays of truth does not seem reasonable, and after a few visits to court they are not anxious to come again. If possible they will escape the process server.

A man who has witnessed an accident to a woman by a street car, in spite of his humanitarian instincts will run around the corner for fear of being called as a witness. The man who hears at night the call of "Police! Police!" in the street, jumps out of bed and begins to put on his clothes, but thinks better of it for the same reason. If a man is in a taxicab that is run into by an express wagon, and the resulting suit is brought by the taxicab company for $110 damages, he may have to attend court five separate days as a witness and the case may not be called. He has to leave the State to avoid being annoyed by the subpoena server, who dogs him at his club and at his home. The witnesses have lost their time and their patience.

Each lawyer knows this and a petty game of playing for delays and adjournments sometimes goes on. Suppose there is a good claim which nevertheless the defendant denies, knowing how lengthy and wearisome is the game of reaching a case, he often succeeds for years in preventing its collection. The game is simply to tire out the opponents, clients, and witnesses. A clever and unscrupulous lawyer can throw so many obstacles in the way of a plaintiff that, unless he have a strongly developed streak of obstinacy, he will give up in disgust or be glad to compromise.

Unless both sides are anxious to be reached it is practically certain a case will be adjourned two or three times. A sworn affidavit is presented with the doctor's certificate that the client or witness is sick, or the sworn statement that a witness can not be found, or that the lawyer is engaged in the trial of another case. The excuse may be valid and the reasons may be sound, but the adjournment of the day for trial occurs again and again. This is one of the causes for the complaint as to the law's delay. Naturally calendars have to be made and called. Cases have to be tried and others have to be reached in order, but at least there should be sufficient and intelligent planning of the order.

It seems rather a weak answer to say that no one can tell how much time will be occupied in the trial of a case. If any systematic or scientific method of regulating the calendar were devised, one of the evils would be avoided.

The very call of the calendar in some courts occupies to an unreasonable extent the time of the judge who might as readily be engaged in the real work of the court. The aggregate value of the time of the judge, the lawyers, the witnesses, and the jurymen who have all been sitting about waiting, for the call of the calendar is, for one hour's delay a large sum. The waste might be saved by an intelligent bureau for the administration of court business which would have absolute control over all calendar practice.

That the judge should delay a whole court-room full of people by being late in opening court should not only be a matter of apology, but is reprehensible to the extent of being multiplied by the number of people he has kept waiting. On the other hand, the usual course of proceeding being apparently with the object of dragging out the business of the court, makes the tardiness of the judge seem only an incident.

Fortunately there are few attorneys who make appearances in court merely for the sake of adding another item on their bill to the client, and the real delay in reaching a case is due more to the confusion of administrative methods; until some more practical system is devised it will continue. Then witnesses and clients will not be loath to go to court.

The weary work is finished, all the tiresome facts have been gathered, and the rehearsals have been had. The play is written, the parts are cast. The disappointments and delays have been forgotten, the months of preparation have passed. At last the bell for the performance rings and the case is finally to be tried.