Cabbages and Kings

Gardiner Auditorium is a dingy, poorly-lit room in the basement of the State House. Yesterday about 500 people jammed into it for the Legal Affairs Committee's hearing on U. U01, the socalled "pet seizure" act. About three-quarters of this audience were wrinkled old ladies, steamed up by the Hearst press and the Anti-Vivisection League. The rest were mostly medical students, there to support the bill, which authorizes research on certain impounded animals.

The first thing I saw was a man in a purple shirt and face to match holding his little dog on the seat next to his. "Oh, look at the audience" gushed a lady as she spotted the dog. Later, the man and his pet went to be photographed for the newspapers. Although the dog had a head like a pin and a body like a box-car, it seemed very photogenic.

As the ladies and medical students poured in, Rep. Nathanson went to bat for his bill. Only dogs and cats condemned to die anyway would be used he insisted. "Do you really think that doctors slink around in corners looking for dogs they can torture?"

"Yes," cried the old woman in front of me. "Yes, yes," the anti-vivisectionists took up the cry. "No," answered the students. The Chairman threatnd to clear the room, and things died down.

Various senators and representatives recorded their opinions, and the head of the New England Research Council explained in a clipped voice that the need for blood substitutes in Korea was urgent, and that animal research was necessary to discover what effects various chemicals would have on humans. Only cats and dogs are suitable for this, he said. He was interrupted by dog yelps and a querulous voice asking, "May I speak?"

After several more speakers, Charles Dunn, attorney for the Massachusetts Medical Society, mumbled through the bill amid titters and imprecations, but nobody could hear him. "We can't hear," came a loud woman's voice, but there were no results. "Speak louder," she repeated, speaking louder herself. She got results from the chairman, who said something about demonstrations. "This isn't fair," she wailed, "we can't hear. This isn't fair." An usher came over and whispered something to her, and Dunn mumbled on uninterrupted. Somebody started to whistle softly, and an old lady hissed to shut him up.

At noon, the opposition took over. Rep. James F. Condon, from South Boston, called on "the so-called sponsors of the bill to place their $1,000 dogs under this research program instead of taking the dogs away from my children." He received a tremendous ovation. In fact, the bill's opponents were so heartily cheered that Chairman Lee had to point out that "this isn't the opera. We haven't any applause meters here."

The last speaker for the opposition in the morning was George R. Farnum, president of the Massachusetts Anti-Vivisection League, who promised to be brief. He wasn't. He described an experiment where a dog was beaten on the leg from 700 to 1,000 times with a rawhide mallet to induce shock. He also described other experiments. The crowd gasped in horror. The woman behind me muttered "Butcher, butcher." "Open the animal pounds," Farnum went on, "and who will say that their next demand will not be for access to . . . insane asylums . . ."

The afternoon session opened with the committee just finishing its sandwiches. A man from Dorchester said he thought the "whole thing stinks." He stated that the bill would cost $1,400,000, and when asked for the source of his figures, answered "in the newspapers."

Then the medical men brought out their feature attraction, Dr. John F. Connally. Connally pointed out how distorted and exaggerated Farnum's claims were, and he explained the real experiments. He pointed out how animal experimentation contributed to the development of respiratory devices like the iron lung. There was forced laughter among the listeners.

Someone said that this bill amounted to socialism. An old lady said her dog would be the first to lay down his life for the boys in Korea, but she opposed the bill anyway. The audience took over. A crone, all wrapped up in a raccoon coat, stepped up to the podium, dragging her unbathed chow behind her. After she had her say, another woman stated that she represented the Boston Cat Club. The chairman asked how many were against the bill, and all the ladies rose, waving their arms. A crowd surged to the podium. "I think this bill is undemocratic, un-American, and composed of sadists' minds." "Why don't students experiment on themselves?" Finally Chairman Lee beat his gavel as petitions flooded in. The women all gathered up their pets and went stomping home.