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Friday, April 01, 2005
Significance of Personal Stories – Part 2
This is my own reconstruction of a particular scene from Amistad, which has remained fresh in my mind as an illustration of significance:
1839 - Quincy, Massachusetts
( Continued from Part 1 )
. . . Joadson had come to visit Mr. Adams at home to seek advice on a legal case. On trial were twenty-some-odd African slaves found shipwrecked on the Long Island coast, some six months after putting to sea as cargo aboard a Spanish vessel named La Amistad. During the voyage, the slaves broke their chains and murdered all the crew except two. The trial sought to settle the fate of the slaves, claimed by the Spaniards to be of Cuban origin – and therefore rightfully belonging to them (in 1839 slaves could be legally sold in Cuba). Joadson, and others, sought to prove to the court that these were in fact African natives captured illegally. To prove so would release the slaves and send a powerful statement to American black market slave traders that continued shipment of Africans would not be tolerated. So far, the court seemed to be more concerned with placating the agitations of the Spaniards and others who screamed injustice at the thought of releasing murderers. Even if the defense’s evidence proved the plaintiffs to be African, the prosecution presented the case as a picture of the currently divided American sentiment towards slavery in 1839: partially condoned by majority, condemned by a conservative yet marginalized minority.
. . . Finally, the answer came. “NO! Mr. Joadson, you’re an ex-slave who has devoted his life to the abolitionist movement with many trials and hardships along the way I imagine. Now, THAT is your story, isn’t it?” Mr. Joadson nodded as he began to understand the lesson.
“You have proved WHAT the slaves are, Mr. Joadson, . . . they’re Africans! Congratulations! But what you don’t know and haven’t bothered in the least to discover is WHO they are. . . . Right?”
A smile crept onto Joadson’s face much like a spider approaches the delicate edge of her web. At last, he began to see the key. “Ahh. He was listening!” Joadson thought to himself as excitement kindled inside his chest.
Moments earlier, he had started to wonder if he was wasting his time, explaining the case to the old man mumbling and pacing in front of the fireplace. Although Joadson knew well from public record that Adams agreed with some abolitionist philosophy, the President had seemed as slow as molasses to attach any personal interest to the case.
Even after directly posing the question, “Mr. President, if it was you handling the case, what would you do?” Adams’ response seemed veiled: He plodded over to his armchair, lit his pipe as he sat down, and tersely replied, “I’ve learned through many years of trial and error that, in the courtroom, whoever tells the best story . . . wins! In very unlawyer-like fashion, I offer you that scrap of wisdom free of charge!”
(To be continued)
1839 - Quincy, Massachusetts
( Continued from Part 1 )
. . . Joadson had come to visit Mr. Adams at home to seek advice on a legal case. On trial were twenty-some-odd African slaves found shipwrecked on the Long Island coast, some six months after putting to sea as cargo aboard a Spanish vessel named La Amistad. During the voyage, the slaves broke their chains and murdered all the crew except two. The trial sought to settle the fate of the slaves, claimed by the Spaniards to be of Cuban origin – and therefore rightfully belonging to them (in 1839 slaves could be legally sold in Cuba). Joadson, and others, sought to prove to the court that these were in fact African natives captured illegally. To prove so would release the slaves and send a powerful statement to American black market slave traders that continued shipment of Africans would not be tolerated. So far, the court seemed to be more concerned with placating the agitations of the Spaniards and others who screamed injustice at the thought of releasing murderers. Even if the defense’s evidence proved the plaintiffs to be African, the prosecution presented the case as a picture of the currently divided American sentiment towards slavery in 1839: partially condoned by majority, condemned by a conservative yet marginalized minority.
. . . Finally, the answer came. “NO! Mr. Joadson, you’re an ex-slave who has devoted his life to the abolitionist movement with many trials and hardships along the way I imagine. Now, THAT is your story, isn’t it?” Mr. Joadson nodded as he began to understand the lesson.
“You have proved WHAT the slaves are, Mr. Joadson, . . . they’re Africans! Congratulations! But what you don’t know and haven’t bothered in the least to discover is WHO they are. . . . Right?”
A smile crept onto Joadson’s face much like a spider approaches the delicate edge of her web. At last, he began to see the key. “Ahh. He was listening!” Joadson thought to himself as excitement kindled inside his chest.
Moments earlier, he had started to wonder if he was wasting his time, explaining the case to the old man mumbling and pacing in front of the fireplace. Although Joadson knew well from public record that Adams agreed with some abolitionist philosophy, the President had seemed as slow as molasses to attach any personal interest to the case.
Even after directly posing the question, “Mr. President, if it was you handling the case, what would you do?” Adams’ response seemed veiled: He plodded over to his armchair, lit his pipe as he sat down, and tersely replied, “I’ve learned through many years of trial and error that, in the courtroom, whoever tells the best story . . . wins! In very unlawyer-like fashion, I offer you that scrap of wisdom free of charge!”
(To be continued)
