By STAN STAPP

ALL WAS QUIET when Dorothy and I entered the school classroom where a mock trial was about to be held. We were the first ones to show up. Within a few minutes, however, Decatur Elementary's Room 13 was crammed to overflowing with some 40 students and parents who'd come to put on and observe the trial. All was noisy excitement as the attorneys, witnesses and other court personnel (including a nun in a black and white habit) took their places - and the din level slowly lowered.

The mock trial, intended to reflect the type of justice that might have been handed out during the Depression, was based on a news account in the New York Times, under the head: CHURCH SUES FORMER STREET URCHIN! The story related how Sister Jackie French of St. Cecilia's Convent (the plaintiff) had filed a lawsuit against young Danny Garvey (the defendant). He was described as a "troublemaker" and charged with fraud for lying when asking for food on Dec. 24, 1933, and "begging more food than needed from us and others, and denying other needy folks their chance to eat."

IN THE DECATUR version, Danny lived in Hooverville, an industrial area south of downtown Seattle, where otherwise homeless men erected a village out of used lumber, boxes or whatever they could find. As a kid (the same age as these Decatur students), I recall seeing Hooverville every time my family and I rode by on the streetcar.

Danny's lawyer told the Times: "Danny is a good boy - he simply did what he had to do." This role was played by "Koller Decatur."

As I scanned the adults in the room, I easily identified the classroom teacher, Libby Sinclair, attired in a long button-down-the-front dress, black boots, and sporting a straw hat. Her title this day was: Chief Justice.

Likewise, the professional attorney/courtroom advisor, Steven D. Brown, also stood out. He told me he formerly was a trial lawyer, but now is engaged full-time operating the kidLAW Mock Trial Program. "How did you figure me out?" he wondered.

"That was easy," I said. "You're the only guy here in a suit and necktie, looking as if you would greatly enjoy prosecuting me if I'd done something bad."

With that out of the way, Brown rapped the gavel and a hush fell over the gathering. He then asked the participating students to raise their hands if they were nervous. Some did. Some didn't. "You SHOULD BE nervous," he said, "but some of that jumpy stuff will disappear when you get started."

HE THEN ADVISED the attorneys on several important points. "You should stand in such a way that you are speaking directly to the jury, loud enough so that the jurors can hear you, but don't position yourself so far up front by the witness stand that the jury is going to get a good view of your butt."

Brown cautioned that there should be no applause from the spectators (moms, pops, other kids), or the participants, until the end of the trial. We then all stood while the jury filed in from out in the hall and took up their seats in the brown-paper jury box.

The trial then got under way, the bailiff intoning: "Hear Ye, Hear Ye, Hear Ye." I, for one, was grateful he didn't add: "All persons are to keep silent upon pain of imprisonment" - as was the case, day after day, in the impeachment trial of President William Jefferson Clinton.

One of the attorneys was my next-door neighbor, Alan Beeme, looking very professional in his long-sleeved white shirt, black tie and pants. In his hand was a sheaf of yellow attorney-type paper which he consulted from time to time, professionally flipping the pages as he made his points for the plaintiff.

The trial went on for quite some time, the highlight perhaps being when Hana Kawai (out in the hall) jerked open the classroom door and shouted: "Come quick - a baby is dying!" Channing Showalter immediately responded, cutting through the courtroom at breakneck speed and out the door. The mock trial then continued.

AT THE END Channing reappeared, this time cuddling a life-size baby doll, apparently in good health.

The main attorneys for each side, it seemed to me, were the best performers of the day, both arguing their side loudly and with practiced gestures. The attorney for the plaintiff was Andrew Rowny (with the two-toned hair), who after the trial ended was seen pounding his chest with his fists (like Tarzan); the attorney for the defendant was Tehut Gatahun, an Ethiopian girl. I think the two would be smart to partner up a little later and start their own attorneys' office.

After each side summarized their case the 12 jurors filed out of the courtroom to ponder the evidence. A few minutes later they returned with a verdict: "The defendant, Danny Garvey, committed a fraud and must pay the convent $7.25."

Advisor Brown then wound up the day, inquiring as to how the jurors had arrived at their verdict. In the beginning, they revealed, they might have had 12 different opinions. It wasn't a question of guilt, on that they agreed. It was mainly on how much young Danny should have to pay the plaintiff. They finally compromised on $7.25.

THE WHOLE IDEA of putting on a mock trial (as a way of acquainting youngsters with the law) is Brown's. He has persuaded more than a dozen teachers in the Seattle area to participate in his program. Two other North End schools, besides Decatur (which put on two trials by different classes) have or will put on trials: TOPS at the old McDonald Elementary School in Wallingford and Green Lake Elementary.

Brown is not exactly getting rich on his kidLAW program. His modest fee is usually paid half by the PTA and half through a grant. For that he meets with each class for 10 hours of pre-work and setting up the courtroom scene before the trial, and of course is there during the trial.

This summer he is putting on a 12-hour training program that will enable teachers to run their own programs.

Brown also publishes a newsletter, The kidLAW Review, to help explain the program to others. His staff is: Managing Editor, Steve Brown; News Editor, Steve Brown; Reporters: Steve Brown and Steven D. Brown; and publisher, Steve Brown.

Brown is a resident of Green Lake, working out of his home at 6541 Woodlawn Ave. N; phone: 206-524-9339; e-mail: brownsd@aol.com.

Stan Stapp and his wife Dorothy now reside in the Wedgwood neighborhood. Stan Stapp is now connected: stapp@w-link.net.