In
my daily routine in delivering milk to the prison, and in peddling
papers with my newspaper route, Bill perhaps had more contact with
prisoners than the average youngster. There was a prisoner in the
Captain's office who would help me mark the papers for some of the
guards and place them in their mailbox. He was called Judge.
Judge
Fenty was a handsome fellow of middle age, and a friendly sort. One
day I asked him how he got the nickname of Judge. He told me that
when he was brought before the judge in court, the judge asked him if
he had a trade or profession. Fenty replied, "Yes, your honor, I
have." "Tell me," said the judge, "what is your
profession?" "I am a judge, your honor," said Fenty.
The judge asked indignantly, "Pray, what are you a judge
of?" Fenty replied, "I am a darned good judge of
whiskey." Judge Fenty told me that the judge was indignant at
his insolence and added two years to his sentence for this contempt
of court.
Author:
William J. Duffy. Jr.