case at hand. Her marriage, her divorce, and anything pertaining to those, he says, should be excluded.
Spencer reiterates that the credibility of the witness is crucial to her charge of blackmail, as it is a matter of her word against Fisk’s—and King’s.
Judge Bixby accepts Spencer’s arguments and lets the questioning proceed.
“Can you not tell me whether in San Francisco a pistol was pointed in your presence at a man’s head?” Spencer asks again.
“There was a circumstance of that kind,” Josie answers.
“Was it a man by the name of D. W. Pearly?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was it pointed at him by a person of the name of Warren?”
“Yes.”
“Where was Pearly at the time?”
“In the parlor of my mother’s house.”
“Did he sign a check before he went out?”
“Yes.”
“For how much?”
“I have not the remotest idea.”
“Did you hear the amount mentioned?”
“No.”
“Was there any relation subsisting at the time between yourself and the person called Warren?”
“He married my mother.”
“Any between yourself and Mr. Pearly?”
“None whatever.”
“When Warren called and found Pearly inside, what did he say?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Do you recollect Warren coming into the room and charging Pearly with being criminally intimate with you, and telling him he must either be shot or pay?”
The audience is hanging on every word. Stories of Josie’s past have made the rounds in New York; these have included tales of her work as an “actress” in San Francisco and of an abusive stepfather. But those in attendance today suddenly surmise that Josie’s stepfather pimped her out and threatened at least one of her clients with blackmail.
Josie is obviously distressed and flustered. “Nothing of that kind passed at all,” she insists. But then she contradicts herself. “I don’t remember anything about a check. Warren did not shoot Pearly. Pearly left through the door.”
Spencer takes advantage of her discomfiture. “Did he have anything on him except his shirt?”
“He was fully dressed.”
Spencer gives her a skeptical look. He lets the image of Josie and her john and her stepfather-pimp, with the gun of the stepfather leveled at the john, who pays his tab before fleeing the scene of the illegal liaison, sans pants, linger in the courtroom for several moments.
Spencer then asks Josie to explain where she got her divorce.
“I got divorced from my husband in New York state,” she answers. “The divorce was signed by Judge Barnard. My husband was served with notice of the divorce in this city.”
Spencer asks how Josie met Fisk.
“I first saw him in the house of Annie Wood, in Thirty-fourth Street. She was an actress, and an acquaintance of my husband.”
“When you became acquainted with Fisk, had you any property?”
“A little.”
“How much personal property had you, outside of your personal ornaments?”
“I might not have had a bank book, but I certainly was not poverty stricken. I have always been well cared for.”
“You appear to be,” Spencer says, nodding knowingly. Some in the audience laugh. “How much personal property did you have at this time?”
Josie’s lawyers object, and the question is excluded.
Spencer ascertains that Josie lived at the America Clubhouse after meeting Fisk. “During the time you resided at this clubhouse, did Fisk pay your board?” he asks.
“No, sir, not to my knowledge, nor did he make me any presents individually.”
“Did he directly or indirectly furnish means for you while you were at the clubhouse?”
Josie turns to Judge Bixby. “Am I obliged to answer that question?”
The judge responds that she is not required to say anything that will incriminate or disgrace her.
“Did he, directly or indirectly, furnish means for you while you were at the clubhouse?” Spencer repeats.
“He did not personally contribute to my support, but it was through him I made some money, through some
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