Now a curious feature about the evidence “worked up” by reporters for their papers is that little of it materializes when the prosecutor wishes to make use of it.  Of course, some reporters do excellent detective work, and there are one or two veterans attached to the criminal courts in New York City who, in addition to their literary capacities, are natural-born sleuths, and combine with a knowledge of criminal law, almost as extensive as that of a regular prosecutor, a resourcefulness and nerve that often win the case for whichever side they espouse.  I have frequently found that these men knew more about the cases which I was prosecuting than I did myself, and a tip from them has more than once turned defeat into victory.  But newspaper men, for one reason or another, are loath to testify, and usually make but poor witnesses.  They feel that their motives will be questioned, and are naturally unwilling to put themselves in an equivocal position.  The writer well remembers that in the Mabel Parker case, where the defendant, a young and pretty woman, had boasted of her forgeries before a roomful of reporters, it was impossible, when her trial was called, to find more than one of them who would testify—­and he had practically to be dragged to the witness chair.  In point of fact, if reporters made a practice of being witnesses it would probably hurt their business.  But, however much “faked” news may be published, a prosecutor who did not listen to all the hints the press boys had to give would make a great mistake; and as allies and advisers they are often invaluable, for they can tell him where and how to get evidence of which otherwise he would never hear.

The week before a great case is called is a busy one for the prosecutor in charge.  He is at his office early to interview his main witnesses and go over their testimony with them so that their regular daily work may not be interrupted more than shall be actually necessary.  Some he cautions against being overenthusiastic and others he encourages to greater emphasis.  The bashful “cop” is badgered until at last he ceases to begin his testimony in the cut-and-dried police fashion.

“On the morning of the twenty-second of July, about 3.30 A.M., while on post at the corner of Desbrosses Street—­,” he starts.

“Oh, quit that!” shouts the district attorney.  “Tell me what you saw in your own words.”

The “cop” blushes and stammers: 

“Aw, well, on the morning of the twenty-second of July, about 3.30 A.M.”

“Look here!” yells the prosecutor, jumping to his feet and shaking his fist at him, “do you want to be taken for a d—­n liar? `Morning of the twenty-second of July, about 3.30 A.M., while on post I’ You never talked like that in your life.”

By this time the “cop” is “mad clear through.”

“I’m no liar!” he retorts.   “I saw the ------ pull his gun and
shoot!”

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” laughs the prosecutor, and the officer mollified with a cigar, dimly perceives the objectionable feature of his testimony.