There are some cases, however, where one strong-minded and able juryman has swung the whole body to his way of thinking after a vote of eleven against him, and this is as true of verdicts of conviction as of acquittal. Few jurors, however, can, as a rule, stand out against the assertions and incriminations of their fellows. Most of them are easy-going and like to be led by a strong hand. A positive stand taken by a fellow talesman will often bring them to his views when they are really inclined to be in doubt. If the flag is raised they will quickly rally to it, but they will never reach the point where they would be willing to elevate it of their own accord. An experienced and highly intelligent juryman once told the writer that the first thing he always did when the jury had retired, whether he was the foreman or not, was to stand up at the end of the table and say:
"Gentlemen, this man is guilty [or innocent, as the case might be]! The sooner we say so the better, but my mind is made up."
In this way he invariably secured at the outset the support and co-operation of a majority of the jury.
In capital cases where the prisoner's life hangs in the balance there will always be found in the first vote a few blank ballots. These are cast, as the expression is, "to provoke discussion." Shrewd old jurors, realizing that no man can convince another half so well as that other can convince himself, will often vote for "not guilty" in order to get their fellows worked up to a white heat of intellectual frenzy in the effort to bring them over. There is many a wily Odysseus among the variegated personalities of a jury.
"My first jury trial," said one of the judges of the General Sessions recently, "occurred when I was a very young man and had just been admitted to the bar. It was my initial appearance in a court of justice. However, I threw out my chest and tried to make the jury think I was an old hand at the business, by objecting to almost every question and taking exceptions by the score. My client was an old woman who had been illegally ejected, or who claimed to have been illegally ejected, by the agent of a tenement house which belonged to Mr. W.D. Sloane. Of course, I don't suppose Mr. Sloane ever heard of the incident, but I was suing him for damages and put in my case with a great deal of vigor. The lawyer for the defence was a big, good-natured man who did not seem to care very much which way the jury decided the case. The judge charged and the jury retired. They were gone a very long time. At last an officer appeared with a slip of paper. The judge beckoned the lawyer for the other side and myself to the bench and showed us the jury's message.
"'We want a bottle of whiskey and a box of cigars,' it read, and was signed, 'William Smith, Foreman.'
"'Let 'em have them!' remarked the good-natured lawyer. 'I don't blame 'em for being thirsty.'
"'I don't know,' I replied. 'It does not seem to me that whiskey would help them to decide the facts any more clearly!'
"'Of course, if Mr. —— does not agree to it!' exclaimed the lawyer, 'I have nothing to say!' Then he turned away and the judge whispered in my ear:
"'Young man, I should advise you to let these refreshments go into the jury-room. You have not had a great deal of experience and probably do not appreciate the effect which a denial of their request may have upon the jurors. Take a quiet tip from me and let the whiskey go in.'