“I think you must be hard of hearing, Comstock. Unless you have something worthwhile to say, I’m going to dismiss the rest of your charges.”
Comstock grabbed a book and held it overhead, turning to show it to the room.
“Niemeyer’s Anatomy,” he bellowed. “Found on Mrs. Garrison’s shelf, plain as day. Mr. Campbell, is that not so? Did you not find this book on Dr. Garrison’s shelf?”
A man much shorter and leaner than Comstock came to his feet and removed his hat to reveal a head of frizzy red hair. “It is.”
“Independent verification,” Comstock thundered. “I submit to the court that this is an obscene publication, unsuitable for sale or purchase. Most especially unsuitable for students of any kind, even students of medicine. I refer you to color illustrations on pages sixteen and seventeen and throughout chapter four. And”—he paused dramatically—“it was printed in London.”
Judge Stewart’s brows lowered. “Is there a law that forbids importing medical texts from England?”
“There is most definitely a law that forbids sending obscene materials through the mails. And if this book was printed in England, it had to get here somehow.”
“A reasonable assumption. Mr. Wall, will your client stipulate to the claim that a book printed in London was not printed here?”
A low laugh ran through the room, but Clara’s attorney kept a professional demeanor. “We so stipulate.”
Judge Stewart turned his attention to Clara, who stood with her hands folded in front of herself, her expression watchful but calm.
“Dr. Garrison. Did you send to England for this book?”
“No, sir. I did not.”
“Did you cause it to be mailed to you?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know how it is that it got to this continent from that one?”
“Yes. I purchased it from a bookseller in London and then I carried it, in my valise.”
Comstock said, “What proof does she have of that assertion?”
“What proof do you have of yours?” Stewart said. “If you read the law with as much avarice as you read those books you find so offensive, you’d know that the burden of proof is on you, sir. You alone. Now sit down before I have you thrown out on your ear.”
Stewart waited until Comstock had followed this order, and then he looked out over the courtroom.
“There are two issues here,” he said. “The first has to do with the nature of the material itself. What I have here before me is a collection of medical illustrations such as might be used in teaching anatomy to students of medicine. Mr. Comstock has decided that such illustrations are not educational, but obscene. I find this a ludicrous claim. If there is any crime here, it is solely in the mind of the beholder.”
Comstock jumped as if poked. “That’s not for you to say.”
“You’ll hold your tongue,” Stewart said. “Or I swear I’ll fine you and have Roundsman Harrison throw you into a cell. Huffing and puffing will do you no good with me, Comstock. Now tell me, have you ever been a student of medicine?”
Comstock admitted that he had never studied, taught, or practiced medicine. He also agreed, reluctantly, that a doctor should be able to locate and recognize the different parts of the brain, the eye, the larynx, the arteries and tendons and muscles, and all the internal organs.
“These aren’t the first books or images of the human body you’ve impounded because you find them indecent, are they?”
“I have seized thousands,” Comstock said, pulling the small amount of dignity he could muster around himself. “Many thousands. Once a month they are incinerated.”
“And in the meantime, they are stored in your office for safekeeping?”
“Yes. There are several hundred at any one time. The forces of evil in this city know no bounds.”
“And they are locked away, never to be seen by human eyes.”
Comstock frowned elaborately. “They are seen only in as far as I must show them to the court to support charges.”
“No other occasion to display them.”
Comstock hesitated for the briefest moment. “Am I on trial here, sir? The Postmaster General of the United States—”
“—isn’t in my courtroom. There’s a question before you, Mr. Comstock.”
“On occasion I am asked to speak to police officers about the work of the Society for the Suppression of Vice. The younger officers often cannot even imagine the filth waiting for them on the streets and back alleys. I sometimes use seized materials as a tool in the education of professionals.”
“You are an educator as well. As is Dr. Garrison.”
Comstock’s face went very still.
“Mr. Comstock. If I understand you correctly, you use the materials in your possession to illustrate and instruct professionals. That is your word, professionals. You find those materials to be necessary to carry on your work. Dr. Garrison makes the same claim and in her case, I would even agree. Do you have anything to add, Dr. Garrison?”