A defendant’s counsel always endeavors to impress the jury with the idea that all he wants is a fair, open trial—­and that he has nothing in the world to conceal.  This usually takes the form of a loud announcement that he is willing “to take the first twelve men who enter the box.”  Inasmuch as the defence needs only to secure the vote of one juryman to procure a disagreement, this offer is a comparatively safe one for the defendant to make, since the prosecutor, who must secure unanimity on the part of the jury (at least in New York State), can afford to take no chances of letting an incompetent or otherwise unfit talesman slip into the box.  Caution requires him to examine the jury in every important case, and frequently this ruse on the part of the defendant makes it appear as if the State had less confidence in its case than the defence.  This trick was invariably used by the late William F. Howe in all homicide cases where he appeared for the defence.

The next step is to slip some juryman into the box who is likely for any one of a thousand reasons to lean toward the defence—­as, for example, one who is of the same religion, nationality or even name as the defendant.  The writer once tried a case where the defendant was a Hebrew named Bauman, charged with perjury.  Mr. Abraham Levy was the counsel for the defendant.  Having left an associate to select the jury the writer returned to the courtroom to find that his friend had chosen for foreman a Hebrew named Abraham Levy.  Needless to say, a disagreement of the jury was the almost inevitable result.  The same lawyer not many years ago defended a client named Abraham Levy.  In like manner he managed to get an Abraham Levy on the jury, and on that occasion succeeded in getting his client off scot-free.

No method is too far-fetched to be made use of on the chance of “catching” some stray talesman.  In a case defended by Ambrose Hal.  Purdy, where the deceased had been wantonly stabbed to death by a blood-thirsty Italian shortly after the assassination of President McKinley, the defence was interposed that a quarrel had arisen between the two men owing to the fact that the deceased had loudly proclaimed anarchistic doctrines and openly gloried in the death of the President, that the defendant had expostulated with him, whereupon the deceased had violently attacked the prisoner, who had killed him in self-defence.

The whole thing was so thin as to deceive nobody, but Mr. Purdy, as each talesman took the witness-chair to be examined on the voir dire, solemnly asked each one: 

“Pardon me for asking such a question at this time—­it is only my duty to my unfortunate client that impels me to it—­but have you any sympathy with anarchy or with assassination?”

The talesman, of course, inevitably replied in the negative.

“Thank you, sir,” Purdy would continue:  “In that event you are entirely acceptable!”