Kutock vs Kennedy by Karla Stover

 

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REGARDING CLOTHES

KUTOCK vs KENNEDY:  The Lengths to Which Women Will Go

 

            On March 21, 1922, actress Frances Kennedy raised her right hand to God, promised to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, and took the stand in an Illinois courtroom. Facing her from the right of the room’s center aisle was the plaintiff, tailor Morris Kutock, and his attorney.  On the other side of the aisle were her defense attorney, Harry N. Pritzker, her husband, Thomas Johnson, and her witnesses. The witnesses included costumer Mme. Maebelle, model Doris Faulkner, Robert D. Boniel, a newspaper critic for the Dramatic Mirror, and designer, Lester Essig. At the turn of the 20th century, Essig owned Lester, Ltd. and, under the name Mr. Essig, was a famous Chicago costume and theatrical designer, dressing some of the most celebrated names in the country, including Ginger Rogers, Joan Crawford and other stars of that caliber. Presiding over the case was Justice of the Peace Max Witkower, who had impaneled an all-woman jury ranging in ages from eighteen to twenty-two.

            The issue was $175 owed for a dress ordered by Miss Kennedy, delivered after the agreed-upon date, and for which she refused to pay. And under consideration was how long women’s fashions remain in style.

            On the stand, Miss Kennedy crossed an elegantly, silk-stocking-clad leg, stated her name, and batted her eyelashes.

            “How old are you, Miss Kennedy?” asked Attorney Pritzker.

            The defendant lowered her lashes, fingered the folds of her mink, and glanced in panic at her for husband for help.

            “I just never can remember,” she answered at last. “Whenever I want to know my age I have to phone my sister, but the last time I phoned her she said she had forgotten, too.”

            By mutual agreement, it was decided she was over twenty-one.

            “And how long have you been an actress?”

            Again, she looked helplessly at her husband, then at the judge. The issue was dropped.

            Testimony began.

            “I ordered this green, sequined gown for an Irish number I had to sing at my opening (on

 St. Patrick’s Day) in New York,” she testified. “It was to be ready on February 5^th. I left the city

 on February 6^th without the gown because it wasn’t done. I had to hurriedly order another one somewhere else. I had to wear a green gown, you see?”

            “You couldn’t possible have sung an Irish song in another colored gown, orange, for example?” Asked the judge.

            “Not without running into danger. Besides, dresses go out of style about every three weeks. An actress can’t appear in old models. The public looks to her for the (current) styles.”

            Kennedy went to say that Kutock wanted to deliver the gown when she got back to town and, of course, expected payment. However, she refused to take delivery or pay him.

            At this point, her husband brought into evidence a black suitcase that he proceeded to unpack. Three gowns were held up for both the judge and the jury to inspect. The most recently-purchased gown was distinctly longer than the other two.

            Kennedy turned to the female jury. “See what you’re coming to, girls?” She indicated the change in lengths.

            Rather quickly, the judge intervened.

            Model Doris Faulkner then took the stand and wowed the courtroom with lipstick, earrings, hat, shoe heels, and buckles all of a matching shade of carmine, made, in part, from powdered insect bodies.

            “Styles change weekly, sometimes,” she testified. “Of course an actress couldn’t be expected to wear a dress that is four whole weeks behind the style.”

            One by one, Mm. Maebelle, Robert Boniel, and Mr. Lester all testified, saying essentially the same thing.

            Following this “expert testimony,” Attorney Pritzker made an impassioned closing argument on behalf of his client, Miss Kennedy.

            “Remember that this is a momentous occasion,” he said. “You are here to determine whether styles do change every few weeks and, that when a woman’s dress is new in April, it has no value in May.”

            He then did a bit of an about face, sounding more like the prosecution than the defense.

            “Remember, too,” he said, “the economic crisis were emerging from. (Did he mean World War I?). Consider what effect it would have on all the women in the country if they had to have a new gown every thirty days or be guilty of the heinous offense of being out of style. Think of the misery of the countless husbands who would be unable to provide these numerous gowns for their beloved wives. In short, it is a most important matter. Consider carefully your answer, young women.”

            And deliberate they did—for four whole minutes. After all, as the women well knew, “It might be possible to get away with a tweed suit that was a year old, but wives were expected to reflect their husband’s wealth and position. All the dressing up—the new clothes and jewelry—was a marital duty, a silent advertisement of status. Furthermore, actresses had replaced royalty as the pinnacle of fashion. They were the vehicle for showing clothes to a wider audience than ever before.”

            The jury found on behalf of Miss Kennedy whereupon she hugged and kissed the ladies, gave them autographed photographs of herself, and invited them to her show. That brought on such a cacophony of female voices that a complaint, forwarded to the Chief of Police, resulted in Judge Witkower’s court being evicted from its City Hall premises.

            As unimportant as the case may seem today, the actions of the all-woman jury fired up the doubts of those who already questioned women’s competence to “Handle the rights of full citizenship, unconvinced that women could be trusted with weighty matters of state when they so blithely and indecorously handled their own affairs.”

            As it turned out, though, seventeen years later the verdict was vindicated. In 1939 members of the Paris couture refused to participate in the New York World’s Fair. The reason given was that the clothing on display would be out of date within one month of arrival.