In this time of economic challenges, good jobs are often are to find.  Businesses and municipalities are cutting back in an attempt to save as much as they can.  On the news you'll hear about a school system cutting the number of teachers, a company laying off workers, or a newspaper reducing the number of reporters they hire.  These are tough decisions made after every other alternative has been exhausted.

Then why is it that the occupation of Courtroom Sketch Artist still exists?  With all the modern technology that surrounds us, is this really necessary?  OK, so maybe photographers with cameras aren't allowed in some courtrooms.  Fine.  The city could mount one camera in the corner of the room that would take a picture every so often.  Of course it would be angled away from the jury, and someone would have the authority to filter what is released to the media.

I wonder who pays for these sketch artists.  Maybe it's the newspapers -- but they don't have any money.  Maybe it's the wire services like AP or Reuters.  Maybe these artists are freelance, and they collect a royalty each time their drawing is used in the media.  At least two different artists have been in the courtroom with the Russian spies this week, so they're being paid by somebody.

I wonder when the profession of Courtroom Sketch Artist began.  Did the ancient Romans have a toga-clad dude in the corner of the amphitheater with a hammer and chisel?  Probably not.  The stone cutting would have been too loud and distracting.  Perhaps the occupation began after the printing press was invented in 1440 when representations could be more widely circulated. 

I wonder if US Chief Justice John Marshall (my distant cousin) might have allowed sketch artists in his courtroom in the early 1800s.  Wouldn't it be neat if there was a sketch of Justice Marshall issuing his verdict in the case of Marbury v. Madison?  The artist could catch him in an action shot with his mouth frozen in mid-sentence as he's delivering the court's precedent-setting decision.  And a gavel would be poised in his right hand just before he clamors it down against the mahogany desk plate.  Case closed.  Court dismissed.