The room in the old state house, where the hearing was held was a dingy place. There was the air of a court about it and the attendants. What seemed vitally important to us was dismal routine to them. When we arrived the committee was listening to a deputation of screws from Sing Sing who were asking for a revision of the rules in regard to vacations. The sight of the three committee men cooled my ardor. The chairman, Burton, was an upstate lawyer, who affected the appearance of a farmer to please his constituents. The other two, Clark and Reedy, were New Yorkers, one a Republican the other a Democrat, both fat and sleepy. At last the screws finished their plea. Burton rapped with his gavel.
"What is the next business?" he asked wearily.
"Hearing in the matter of a bill to establish a reformatory for juvenile offenders," the clerk drawled.
"Does the Commissioner of State Prisons endorse this bill?" Clark asked.
"No"—the Commissioner was on his feet at once. The charter of the Prisoner's Aid Society gave it authority to inspect the penal institutions of the state, to audit their accounts and so forth. It was a thorn in the flesh of all commissioners and they could always be counted on to oppose any suggestion of the society's.
"Well. What's the use of going into the matter, then?" Reedy asked. "It's not our custom to throw down the Commissioner."
"As it's on the calendar we'll have to listen to it," Burton ruled.
"How did it get on the calendar?" Clark growled.
"I was under the impression the Commissioner was in accord," the clerk apologized.
"Well, I want to know where you got that impression," Clark insisted with ill temper.