Jim Bradshaw: Judge Bedon's court offered a good show

Some years ago I received a copy of an account written by Montfurt Hull of Baton Rouge describing his encounter with one of the most colorful men in South Louisiana.
The man was George Armand "Bedon" Martin, physician, legislator, three times mayor of Lafayette, its first Mardi Gras king, and its city judge from 1916 to 1932. When his 17-year-old son Stanley Martin became Lafayette’s first combat casualty in World War I, Bedon, then 57, wrote to President Woodrow Wilson and volunteered to replace his son on the firing line  in France and avenge his death. Wilson declined the offer, but it was made in all seriousness.
The judge acquired the nickname “Bedon,” which means “high hat,” for the silk hat and Prince Albert coat that were his customary garb. It’s said that he adopted this wardrobe after his regular hat and coat were stolen while he was riding a train on his way home to Louisiana after finishing medical school. He was able to borrow the fancy duds and wore them ever after.
That’s what caught the Baton Rouge visitor’s eye.
“I was walking along in Lafayette … one morning when a man in a high silk hat and frock coat emerged from a doorway and proceeded rapidly down the street ahead of me,” Hull wrote in a passage vaguely reminiscent of Alice in Wonderland. “The first person that he met greeted him with ‘good morning, judge,’ the next one with ‘good morning, doctor.’”
A druggist standing outside his store cleared the confusion, telling Hull that Bedon was both a doctor and a judge, and also suggested that the visitor sit in on a court session if he wanted to see “a good show.”
One of the first cases involved a collision on a bridge between a car and a horse and buggy.
“The judge removed from his desk drawer a miniature bridge of his own design, a toy auto, and a toy horse and buggy,” Hull wrote. “The disputants were required to place these models on the bridge in the position their respective vehicles occupied at the time of the accident. Dobbin lost another decision to his modern rival.”
Then, “while an officer was hunting for a witness for the next case, the judge adjourned the court to perform a wedding. He had previously, in his capacity as MD, issued the groom [the required] medical certificate.”
Hull said the word “obey” was not used in the ceremony because the judge held the enlightened view that “women are now on an equality with men.”
In another case, Bedon tested the adage that chickens come home to roost. When across-the-street neighbors disputed ownership of a flock of chickens, the judge ordered an officer to turn the chickens loose in the middle of the street. They went directly to one of the homes and “as if to establish further proof … one of them laid an egg.”
In another instance, the account says, “a man charged with being intoxicated was brought before the bench. The prisoner protested … ‘Judge. I was no more drunk than you are right now.’ The judge didn’t bat an eye: “Pleads guilty, ten dollars, next case.”
Despite his colorful ways and his idiosyncratic dress, Bedon was known and respected across South Louisiana.
When he died in May 1942, he was eulogized by Monsignor A. F. Isenberg as “a family man, a doctor and a highly respected citizen.” Isenberg said that “many in this section will long remember Dr. Martin as a great benefactor, always ready to attend to their ailments regardless of time or circumstances, without thought of pay or favors.”
His funeral notice also noted that he was “widely known … for his humanitarian work on behalf of the poor.” It described the loss of his son and his wife Elisa as “the two great sorrows in his life.”
The American Legion post in Lafayette is named for Stanley Martin and Felix Ducrest, who died in World War II.
You can contact Jim Bradshaw at jimbradshaw4321@gmail.com or P.O. Box 1121, Washington LA 70589.