The Toastmaster, Mr. Emmet Tinley of Council Bluffs: I think one of the greatest pleasures of many members of the Iowa State Bar in coming to Cedar Rapids is the knowledge we would see and hear Charley Wheeler. On the program it is "Mr. Chas. E. Wheeler". But to his friends who love him, he is "Charley Wheeler",—one of the greatest lawyers Iowa ever produced, who has had as large a part in the building of history as any man in Iowa. I want him to tell you the story of "The Jones County Calf Case".
THE JONES COUNTY CALF CASE
Mr. Toastmaster, Ladies and Gentlemen, and Members of the Iowa Bar: When I divided it up in that way I did not mean to be invidious. For nearly half a century I have been addressing audiences that were sworn to remain until I got through,—I am a little nervous about you gentlemen. There is the judge that must remain. Whatever sufferings he goes through, he must remain. Generally he is a large man with a protruding front, and a bald head, and speaks in a deep sepulchral voice. Then there is the bailiff, always a small man, and old, who is not supposed to know anything. Of course, the jury thinks that the judge knows more than the Creator of the Universe. The members of the bar know better. The bailiff is a silent man, ordinarily, with watery blue eyes, and he has for forty-five years gone to sleep promptly when I started to talk, and protected himself in that manner. The other twelve of my audience of fourteen is the jury,—God bless them! The long suffering men,—composed of all kinds. They have availed themselves of the opportunity of going to sleep, and particularly after the noon adjournment. I have taken a great deal of pleasure when I noticed a front row juryman asleep when I was addressing them, in going around and slapping him on the knees, and poking his ribs.
The judge ordinarily turns his back. He sits in a swivel
