Being (sigh) a good citizen
So The Legal Genealogist is off this morning — at the obscenely early hour of oh-dark-thirty — to perform her civic duty.
In my case, that’s going to consist of sitting around for hours in a cold, drafty room on barely-cushioned chairs, for the privilege of being excused from every jury on which I might possibly be called to sit.
The chances that I’d actually be chosen as a juror in any case that might be tried in the county where I live — civil or criminal — are laughably remote.
You see, I have a law degree. I used to work first as a prosecutor and then as a defense attorney. I now work part-time for the company that publishes the books relied on daily by lawyers and judges throughout New Jersey. I’m officially retired from teaching at the state’s premier (and state-funded) law school.
And that doesn’t even consider the fact that I tend to be … um … a smart aleck.
Yeah, I’m just exactly the person that every lawyer wants on his or her jury. R-i-g-h-t…1
But I’m here. Sitting in that cold, drafty room on a barely-cushioned chair, because I have to be.
The law says so.
Like every other juror ever summoned, I have to show up.
And the law has said that for a very long time.
Since I’m headed off to New York later this week for Genealogy in Bloom, this Saturday’s seminar of the Rochester Genealogical Society, I decided to take a look at colonial New York law.
And — yup — you had to show up as a juror back then too.
As a matter of fact, if you didn’t show up, the colonial government would be downright annoyed. The first English governor of the New York colony sent an advisory out to local officials: “That Whosoever shall be nominated to serve in a Jury with out Just Cause showen shall refuse it he shall forfeit twenty shillings towards the defraying publique Charge which is to be Levied by the Constable.”2
Ouch.
When New York became a state, its early laws assessed a fine of not more than five pounds to be assessed against any juror who didn’t show up — and, what’s more, if fines were imposed, the court was to “cause public proclamation of such fines to be made by the crier of the court.”3
Ouch again.
By 1801, the fine for not showing up, as either a grand or trial juror, was up to as much as $25,4 and by the 20th century it was not less than $10 nor more than $25 every day.5
As genealogists, we love any record of our ancestors being called for jury duty. If they were called, it should be in any surviving records of that court. If they actually served on a jury, it’ll be in those records. And if they didn’t show up, the assessment of the fine — and any later explanation they offered to try to get excused from the fine — should be in those records too.
As for me, well… I live across the river in New Jersey.
New Jerseyans who don’t show up for jury duty “shall be liable for a fine not to exceed $500, payable to the county in which the person was summoned, or may be punished for contempt of court.”6
Sigh…
Which explains why I’m here, sitting in that cold, drafty room on a barely-cushioned chair.
Sigh…
One way or the other, we all pay the price of citizenship…
SOURCES
Image: “The Jury,” 1861, by John Morgan, via Wikimedia Commons.
- I’ve been known to bet with other jurors as to who would be excused first and by which side. One time, I called three of the first four excuses correctly, and my own — by the prosecutor in the case — was number one. ↩
- The Colonial Laws of New York from the Year 1664 to the Revolution (Albany : James B. Lyon, State Printer, 1894), I: 73; digital images, Google Books (http://books.google.com : accessed 15 Apr 2018). ↩
- An Act to punish delinquent jurors…, Chapter 20 in Laws of the State of New York… 1785-1788 (Albany: Weed Parsons & Co., 1886), 2: 47; digital images, Google Books (http://books.google.com : accessed 15 Apr 2018). ↩
- §18, “An ACT for regulating Trials of Issues, and for returning able and sufficient Jurors,” 31 March 1801, in Laws of the State of New York (Albany: Charles & Geo. Webster, 1802), I: 381; digital images, Google Books (http://books.google.com : accessed 15 Apr 2018). ↩
- §552, New York Judiciary Law, in McKinney’s Consolidated Laws of New York (Northport, NY : Edw. Thompson Co., 1917), 29: 290; digital images, Google Books (http://books.google.com : accessed 15 Apr 2018). ↩
- N.J.S. 2B: 20-14b. ↩
I’ve only been called up once and didn’t think I’d be accepted as I’m in public safety. I sat with two social workers and we were taking bets on which of us would be the first to go. Surprise, I was selected!! Still not sure why, but that was the only time I have been called for jury duty. I have a friend who seems to get called once or twice every year. Why is that?
It likely depends on the list used by the jury commissioners. Some people get into the pool through multiple avenues and others barely at all!
What a coincidence, Judy, I’m waiting to serve jury duty also on the other side of the country in a,California court. Lisa Baker your un-cousins wife.
Hi, there, Lisa! I’m on standby for a case where I can’t possibly actually be on the jury — it’s a legal malpractice case, I was the principal editor for the lead book on legal ethics here in New Jersey… oh, and the plaintiff’s lawyer is an old friend.
Winner winner chicken dinner, you are going home! I’m still waiting lol.
I’m off that jury for the case but in theory could still get sent to another courtroom for a different case. If I don’t get sent out again, then I’ll be done for three years.
Facing the first panel of prospective jurors, the attorney asked, ‘“Please raise your hand if you are a lawyer, or have a lawyer in your family.”
Several hands shot up. The attorney then went down the line asking each person who had raised a hand in turn who the lawyer in the family was. One man answered, “My daughter,” and was immediately excused. It was a rape case.
🙂
My mother was a journalist assigned to county court to report on the various cases of the week. When called for jury duty she assumed that she would be excused because of her job. The judge’s office called and told her she would be cited for contempt of court if she didn’t get down there before they started to impanel the jury. Of course she was excused.
Yeah, you have to report even if it’s a sure bet that you’re never going to be selected.
I was called for jury duty several years ago. The case was a medical malpractice case. Because I was a RN, I was eliminated immediately. I didn’t even get warm up that cold wooden chair in the courtroom. Talking about feeling unwanted–not really. Now I could just claim age and be excused.
I didn’t even warm up the chair in the jury box before the judge excused me! But we don’t get an excuse for age here until age 75.
Judy,
The first time I was called, in the 1990s in Milwaukee, I was an unemployed housewife. I passed the first empanelment, for a murder case. The defense attorney first asked for a show of hands of those who never drank alcohol. A medical condition prevents me from drinking, but I never got a chance to explain that. Everyone who raised their hands was struck. Sure enough, the major defense was that the guy was too drunk to know what he was doing.
The second time, in Madison, Wisconsin, I was called to civil court, and ended up on a dental malpractice case, where I learned more than I cared to know about root canals.
In Milwaukee, my then-husband got a phone call instead of a card or letter, and was quizzed very thoroughly about his occupation. I’m not sure why this happened. He was a professor of speech communication; his specialty was non-verbal communication. The person who called him even asked him what his current research project was. He had waitresses wear flowers in their hair on alternate nights to see if it influence the size of their tips. It did. The person who called him told him he didn’t need to bother to turn up at the courthouse. Neither the prosecutor or the defense would want him on any jury. He tried to argue, as he had been trained to be unbiased. He also complained to me, because he thought it would be a useful experience he could get nowhere else. In no uncertain terms, he was told to stay home, and that he would not be fined. In my experience of him, I think he could have been unbiased.
Doris
Sounds like they were picking a jury in a very specialized case and didn’t want an expert on the jury.
Been excused twice, but did get on one. A minor theft from a grocery store. The defense attorney was clearly not up to the task of defending the man, testimony was hilarious and when the jury met and did a preliminary vote everyone voted “guilty” because there was little doubt. But we felt bad about being so quick to judge, so decided to ask if the prosecution PROVED he was guilty. We still found him guilty, but it took us at least an hour or so.
Glad you guys really did your job, even if the lawyer didn’t do his!
I seem to get called about every three years. What’s funny is that it runs in cycles through our office–three people consecutively have to have jury duty, then we are clear for another year! I was number three last year. The day I got back from my vacation I had to report–I had a big meeting scheduled, but nope, I had to sit through a two day trial (my boss covered my meeting, and forgot to call to connect to the project manager, causing needless headaches for me). I didn’t mind serving, but the timing was terrible, and the chairs were torture devices.
I think there’s a rule somewhere that jury chairs have to be awful.
Like some church pews of the past that seemed designed to be hard, to keep people awake!
Exactly!!! Except that after 6-8 hours, it’s more like they’re designed to cripple you.
The last time I was called I got onto a jury in a murder trial. After 3 weeks of 90 minutes commutes each way to the courthouse (and just before deliberation), I was excused from the jury because an intern made a comment about the “big bad” defendant in the elevator I took to return to court after lunch.
When I was in my last semester lof law school at The University of Texas I was summoned for jury duty. I went to the County
Courthouse and easily found the judge, I explained that I was a law student and also working a minimum of 40 hours a week. The wise judge immediately excused me with no questions.
II have found lists f jurors (including ancestors) in county.order books in Virgiinia and Tennessee. In one case it helped established the date my ancestor settled in Tennessee (1778).
As you know, finding the records of our ancestors in the jury lists is absolute gold, for lots of reasons like nailing their feet to a particular floor. See generally The name on the list.
But I’m guessing that in New York in the 1800s and some of the 1900s, that you would not be called to jury duty because you are not a white man. Which requirement unfortunately kept many people of the accused’s peer from serving.
I am a Career Law Clerk as well as a legal editor (in NJ too, but south), and generally expect to not get picked for a jury, as the one time I actually made it to voir dire I was rejected by both attorneys for then being a paralegal and law student.
Though I understand the disruption for people, as someone who works at a court, I chafe a bit at people complaining about having to serve. I look at it as a fine day of reading, a look at another court’s way of doing things, and a chance to meet my fellow citizens.
You’re so right about the qualifications — though in the late 1800s and in the 1900s, in NY or NJ, race was not a factor. (NY law by 1877 no longer mentioned white male, just male.) I actually would love to serve on a jury, but realize it’s unlikely in the extreme. So my function is simply to fill out the pool — and that’s a real pain.
Monday, April 16th I had Jury Duty.
Because of the amazingly brutal rainstorm EVERYBODY was cold and wet.
And just as you’ve said, the room was drafty, and the chairs were uncomfortable.
First we sat and sat. Then we went to another room and sat some more. Then the judge sent us for lunch. Then we came back and we sat some more and continued to sit until we went into the courtroom again and sat some more and then the judge told us that the case was dismissed and that they hadn’t even needed us, so we all went downstairs and sat awhile longer.
Eventually after sitting for awhile more, we were dismissed and were told that we don’t have to come back and sit in that big cold room for five or six years.
I’ve done my duty.
Yep, that pretty much describes the process for many folks. One panel in the courthouse I was in did the same thing: sat all day and then the case settled.
Reading this as I sit looking at my jury summons for May 5th……
Have fun… 🙂