"Pete, you're going up to Santa Ana to jail for a while to dry up.
George here is going to take you on his bike."
Pete, no stranger to court proceedings, said, "But, Gavvy, I ain't
even been arraigned yet."
Pete was not only no stranger to court proceedings, he was on a
first-name basis with the judge.
Gavvy glared at Pete, his eyes frosty. "Now, lookee here, Pete. I
know you were drunk; you know you were drunk. Now we ain't gonna
waste any of the taxpayers' money on this. You hop on that there
motorcycle out there and go to the county jail with George here.
Understand?"
Pete stood there for a minute in deep thought. Then he grinned,
nodded and said, "Guess you're right, Gavvy."
Gavvy handed Pete a piece of paper on which he had been
scribbling.
"This here is your commitment. Says clear as anything that you
were arraigned, advised of your constitutional rights, pleaded guilty
to being drunk in public and were committed to the county jail for
seven days. Any argument?"
Pete grinned. "Nope, Gavvy, that's exactly what happened."
He tucked the paper in his pocket.
Pete and George left the courtroom, walked across the sidewalk to
George's bike, Pete climbed aboard behind George, wrapped his arms
around George's middle, and the last I saw of them they were roaring
up Laguna Canyon with a total disregard of the speed laws.
Now that was justice, Gavvy Cravath style.
* ROBERT GARDNER is a resident of Corona del Mar.
