“Who was running this game?” the judge thundered at them. Nobody knew; not even the arresting officer.
“Well,” said the judge, “you all working?”
“Ya-as, sir.”
“Got good jobs?”
“Ya-as, sir.”
“Louder.” The judge cupped a hand to his ear. “You all got real good jobs?”
“Ya-as, SIR!”
“All right, you can go, but we have a police benefit fund here. If you’ve all got real good jobs you might contribute a dollar each to that fund.”
The black men went into a huddle. They produced the required sum and marched out.
“One of the judge’s little jokes,” Drew smiled. “I don’t see how he could live through all this low down squalor day after day if it wasn’t for his jokes.”