But she felt lost without the immediate presence of McCoy’s easy self-confidence. Away from him, she wondered why she had ever trusted such an important matter to an irresponsible, jumping jack, bird-brained clown as McCoy.
She chewed her nails and wished he were present.
The panel of attorneys appearing for Worker’s Incorporated, began by moving that the action be dismissed without trial, on the theory that Jerry was a chattel of the corporation, an integral part of it, and no more able to sue than the thumb can sue the brain.
The honorable Augustus Pomfrey looked every inch the statesman as he bowed to the court and to his opponents. “It is indeed strange,” he began, “to hear the second-hand voice of a legal fiction, a soulless, imaginary quantity called a corporate ‘person,’ argue that a flesh-and-blood creature, a being of hopes and longings and passions, has not legal existence. I see here beside me my poor cousin Jerry.” He patted Jerry on the shoulder; the ape man, needing reassurance, slid a hand into his. It went over well.
“But when I look for this abstract fancy ‘Workers,’ what do I find? Nothing-some words on paper, some signed bits of foolscap — ”
“If the Court please, a question,” put in the opposition chief attorney, “does the learned counsel contend that a limited liability stock company cannot own property?”
“Will the counsel reply?” directed the judge.
‘Thank you. My esteemed colleague has set up a straw man; I contended only that the question as to whether Jerry is a chattel of Workers, Incorporated, is immaterial, nonessential, irrelevant. I am part of the corporate city of Great New York. Does that deny me my civil rights as a person of flesh and blood? In fact it does not even rob me of my right to sue that civic corporation of which I am a part, if, in my opinion, I am wronged by it. We are met today in the mellow light of equity, rather than in the cold and narrow confines of law. It seemed a fit time to dwell on the strange absurdities we live by, whereunder a nonentity of paper and legal fiction could deny the existence of this our poor cousin. I ask that the learned attorneys for the corporation stipulate that Jerry does, in fact, exist, and let us get on with the action.”
They huddled; the answer was “No.”
“Very well — My client asked to be examined in order that the court may determine his status and being.”
“Objection! This anthropoid cannot be examined; he is a mere part and chattel of the respondent.”
“That is what we are about to determine,” the judge answered dryly. “Objection overruled.”
“Go sit in that chair. Jerry.”
“Objection! This beast cannot take an oath-it is beyond his comprehension.”
“What have you to say to that, Counsel?”
“If it pleases the Court,” answered Pomfrey, “the simplest thing to do is to put him in the chair and find out.”
“Let him take the stand. The clerk will administer the oath.” Martha van Vogel gripped the arms other chair; McCoy had spent a full week training him for this.
Would the poor thing blow up without McCoy to guide him?
The clerk droned through the oath; Jerry looked puzzled but patient.
“Your honor,” said Pomfrey, “when young children must give testimony, it is customary to permit a little leeway in the wording, to fit their mental attainments. May I be permitted?” He walked up to Jerry.
“Jerry, my boy, are you a good worker?”
“Sure mike! Jerry good worker!”
“Maybe bad worker, huh? Lazy. Hide from straw — boss.”
“No, no, no! Jerry good worker. Dig. Weed. Not dig up vegetaber. Dig up weed.
Work hard.”
“You will see,” Pomfrey addressed the court, “that my client has very definite ideas of what is true and what is false. Now let us attempt to find out whether or not he has moral values which require him to tell the truth. Jerry — ”
“Yes, Boss.”
Pomfrey spread his hand in front of the anthropoid’s face. ‘ How many fingers do you see?”
Jerry reached out and ticked them off. “One-two — sree-four, uh-five.”