The Strange Case of the Smuggler-Poet
A woman caught smuggling contraband in her skirts makes a stunning plea for mercy in a Seattle courtroom.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
Yesterday afternoon Miss Clara Morse, the woman arrested for smuggling goods, appeared to plead and said she intended to plead guilty. She asked Mr. White, the United States District Attorney, to make a statement, which he did, relating the facts as they were published in the sessions. He said she had forty-five pounds of gum opium hidden in her dress, made for the purpose. Five pounds were also found in her valise. The woman, tall and neat, arose and addressed the judge in a clear, firm voice: 'I have seen fit to plead guilty, but before you pass sentence upon me, I would like to make a statement. I have done wrong to society, but I did it in preference to something worse. I was placed in very peculiar circumstances, and such a pressure was brought upon me that I was compelled to seek an honorable means of livelihood. If the officers had not made a 'find' on this line, they never would, as this was my last trip. From the proceeds of this trip I expected to be able to go where I could lead an honest, respectable life and get away from the control and influence of the power which for two years has dragged me down.' The judge told her it was his duty to impose a fine, and asked if she was able to pay it. 'I think I could pay a small fine, say $200,' she replied. The judge then ordered that she pay a fine of $250 and in default of same she stand committed to the United States jail until the fine is paid or she has served sixty days.
“I have done wrong to society, but I did it in preference to something worse.”
Smuggling has always been a way for those on the margins to survive economic precarity, though the 'contraband' has shifted from opium to other goods. Her plea to the judge, citing the 'power' that had dragged her down, speaks to the long-standing, often ignored desperation that drives small-time crime in the city.
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