Is it generally known, for instance, that in the State of Utah there is a statute which makes it a misdemeanor to purchase, sell or smoke cigarettes? One may not puff in a public place; yet one may do so in private, the law contends. The Mormon Church is opposed not only to drinking and smoking, but to coffee-drinking as well; and as the elders in that church are the big property owners in Salt Lake City, controlling the hotels and other public buildings, when I went there not long ago I wondered if I would be permitted to light a weed.
With soda-fountains gracing the lobbies of the smartest caravanseries, I had my doubts; but when I casually asked where the cigar-stand was, I was directed to a garish counter, and beneath gleaming glass cases I saw, to my amazement, all brands of cigarettes on sale. I asked how this could be.
“You don’t take this law seriously?” a native said to me.
“I am getting so that I cannot take any law seriously,” was my natural answer—as it undoubtedly would have been yours, dear reader. Yet you and I call ourselves perfectly decent, God-fearing American citizens, do we not?
I hadn’t the slightest trouble in purchasing everything that I wanted; yet a new fear possessed me. After dinner, would it be possible to smoke in the main dining-room?
To make a long story short—it was. Everyone was doing it, just as though a law had never been heard of; and I saw Mormons consuming coffee, too. Think of it!
For almost two years now the farce has gone on. No one thinks it curious any more that the mandate is not obeyed.
They told me of a case recently tried out there. A small tobacco merchant—an Italian, if I recall correctly—was arrested for selling a package of cigarettes to a detective. (To remind people of the august legislature and to give the tax-payers another reason for being taxed, a minion of the law must go about now and then, on a fat salary, to investigate conditions.) At the trial, the package in evidence was placed on a large green-covered table, in the presence of the jury and the Court. It was all very incriminating. The prosecuting attorney worked himself into a fine fury of eloquence, denouncing the pitiful little culprit in high-faluting language that the wretch on trial could not possibly understand. The majesty of the law must be upheld. This was terrible; it was atrocious—though nothing was said of the fact that down in the heart of the city, every hour of the day, this same law was openly violated. The judge solemnly charged the jury—and hastened out to luncheon.
But the twelve good men and true were out only a few moments. They brought in a verdict of not guilty.
“How can this be?” cried the Court, in wrath. And the counsel for the people tore his hair, metaphorically, if not literally. The detective looked blank. Then the foreman arose and said that the jury had had no evidence presented to them that cigarettes had been sold, as the package covering the alleged malignant little weeds had never been opened.