COLL ECTIONS ARf O A DOCU l ON PR 1.3:V 15/1966/V.3.3 tCAL R Ht.R AH E.
I I IL
.. A LI G lJ S T . I 9 6 6
" ERIE STANIEY GARDNER r>"--, "Encourage the Prison Writer" I Page 9 i \ . -���- .,... _:_..... / I( .,,--·-·-" ....,I �- � .. '/ ,,· �l r ,--, ( r&'·\ '\ ALBERT D. LANE .
\ -- ·;·( ) . "' ) . : y -' I 11 j.;:· / .,,.., "Sinister Grins of Cats and Men -; (\ (fi·'. \ ��....___,, ...... - ,,·.-.:_,.__ ,7_"·· :'.o. Page 15 V .. ·,:_-._:-:�:�-.,�- . . .----. . --=- -,·~ ":. .:: ..-·
1st Prize ••• The VANGUARD 1S 2nd / ,:~:sif:~1 Annual Literary Contest••• 11 THE ttMA:ZI� COYNE" � ';!Ji: ' Page 22 _
I
MARSHALL SMITH COVER STORY (See page 4.) 11 The Big Man" I
Special Editorial Feature:
11 EX-CON WRITES �10,000.00 11 U[KE BRADIEY PRIZE-WINNING NOVEL! Page 12 I "The Imprisonment" 7 / Ii Page 31 STATE OFFICIALS
Sam Geddard GOVERNOR
Darrell F. Smith ATTORNEY GENERAL
Sarah Folsom , . ' SUP"T· OF PUBLIC· - · INSTRUCTION
W. · W. Witt· · · ·. . . CHAIRMAN, BOARD OF PARDON and PAROLE - r •. . . · r ...... f .. If • I ◄
... I t. _. I • • - • • • • • • j•
DIRECTCR OF EDUCATION: · . . . . . jAJ:·K· b.· D·1LL .ARD
ASS 1 T DIRECTOR OF EDUCATION: . j'.::: .�.. ,J ERR Y . �: THO f\11 SONP 01 . • • • . . . • • • · ft.1 � EDITOR: ., , , . . . � , _ . , � ::::!:::' . CON" . . RAD. . HANS[N...... ii{ .. , ::f?:,·•:•:-·❖=.:•Z•!•-•:O: ...❖y._:.- ·jJ ..:)\� };11,?t'�Nt•:':;.::\:t?��,:�::•�� ...>;:}:· ;::J; ...... 1t=•r�r-.�� ·.
·. - PR I.S.O N . O.F Fl CI A L.S. Frank A. Eyman " . SUPERINTENDEN.T •
L. H. Hochstatter .•ASS. 1 T. SlJP. 1 T, CUST.ODI •
1 �� � • � . A • E . G. • omes • . • • • • ASS'T SUP 1 T, BUSINESS
Laurence White SECRETARY TH. ��)...J.,-.,.-1 QUJ"'·••'•n, !Jt AJ.!.tl:\ . .,,-..1 ...... _·7t..� -r }-J E VOL. 3 -- No, 3 An inmate publication or THE ARIZONA STATE PRISON, Box B, Florence, Ariz. (85232) Permission to reprint MY part or cont�nts may be obtained by writing to Mr. Jack D. Dillard, Superintendent or Education. Comments and suggestio�e are solicited.
EDITCRIAL COM!vENT 3 Something to Think About. •• • • • • • •• . • •• • •• • •• • • The Edito1 COVER STCRY 4 O. Henry (Wil'liilm Sid�ey Porter)• ...... • •Vanguard Staff ARTICIES 5 The Prison Writer. •• • •• • •• •• • • •• • • • • •• • • Vanguard S tari 9 Let's Encourage the Prison Writer •••••••••• • Erle Stanley Gardne1 Now It's Good Business . . . ·•...... • . • News Reprini SPECIAL FEATURES 12 Ex-Con Makes Good (Special Editorial) • -• • •• • • • • •• • • Conrad Hanser 20 Ain't It The Truth? (Cartoons) •• •• • •• • •• • •• • • • • •• • • Var The Imprisonment, •••••• • •• •• • • •• • •• • • •• • Mike Bradlel 46 Vocabulary Test. • • • • • • ••• • •• •• •• •• •• • • •• • Library Staff FICTION ·7 Surpri�ei P.ackge. • • •• • .- • • •• •• • • • • • •• •• , Edward ApplebJ 22 The Amaz�·.Cpyne. • • • • •• •• • • •• • • • • •• •• Conrad Hanser 40 The. Big,·Iran. • • • • • • • • • • •• • • • •• • • • • • • •• Marshall Smitl 'ho_ Fat,.:Oeese. " . , . •• • • • • • • • • .... •••Walte r iH••. Wiei ESSAYS 15 The Sinister Grin or Cats and Men. •• • •• ••• • • • • • • • Al.Dert Lan,
44 From.Down td Up • • • • • •• • • • • •• • • • • • • , _ • Roberta Bl.!ili POE'IRY 39 · i'wo �oema• • • • • • •• • • • • •• • • • • •• •• • • • Don Ramone Wooter
DEPARTMENT$ 4 " 11 Chess Colwnn• • • • • •• • •• . . . ·• . . . • • • • •• • • •• Mike Pruit 1.3 Main Yard Library Briefs. • • •• •• • •• • • •• ••• .. . Alec Burchfiel{ .30 I.E.R. Library Notes •••••••••••••••••••••• , Ted Wilsor
• • • Art Work by Darnoc Nesnah • • • As evidenced, this issue of The VANGUARD is dedicated to writers and would-be writers on the prison level. And for our cover story we have chosen an author who epitomizes what can be accomplished despite ill health and ad versity. It is our hope that O. Henry's achievements will be an inspiration for every person here who aspires to authorship. With a few notable exceptions, every contribution in this issue was written by an inmate of this institution. Some are obviously arnateuris� others reveal signs of some previous experience. But all of these writers have one thing in common: a desire for self-expression. So as you leaf through these pages--perhaps reading a humorous story, an interesting article, or a few lines of verse--you are sharing their innermost feelings as they strive to communicate via the written word, We trust, therefore, that your judgments will be tempered with a measure of gentle understanding. As Erle Stanley Gardner points out ·in. his .article· "Nothing improves••• and encourages a writer more than seeing his stuff in print." The manuscripts which have been selected for publication represent only a portion of the many submitted during The VANGUARD'S two Literary Contes.ts held during the past twelve months. Some needed little or no editing; others required varying degrees of correction in spelling, grammar, punctuation, etc. But two very important facts became quite clear. (1) ��ny inmates displayed latent talent for writing and expressed interest in continuing and (2) there exists a vital need for an institutional program here that will help and en courage these people. It is true that on rare occasions a genius or 'natural-born' writer may emerge. But writing for publication is also·a craft--a profession--and most successful writers were obliged to study the fundamentals and learn how to use the •tools of their trade' in much the same manner a skilled craftsman (carpenter, electrician) or professional man (doctor, lawyer) is required to do... While a familiarity with the rules of grammar and at least a nodding �cquaintance with modern English usage is strongly recommended for the begin ing writer, his academic background is not all-important. Successful writers §uch as Hemingway, Jack London and many others, had but ordinary educations which certainly did not keep them from reaching great literary heights• . We understand that plans are .now in progress to make available a course in creative writing to all interested inmates. il'hether this will be in the form of textbooks, a correspondence course; or by classroom instruction, is yet to be determined. In any case, such an innovation will surely be met with appreciatiop and enthusiasm. Next, we hope that it will be.possible to establish a Writers' Workshop where practicing and novice -writers could get' together at regular intervals. We envision a room supplied with several typewriters; a shelf of reference books, writer's magazines, and other essentials. All types of writing--from short-short stories up to.novels, TV scripts, movie scenarios--would be ex plored in depth. As this activity progressed the group could expect visitors from the 'outside' (authors, editors, columnists, journalists, etc) to give advice and assistance as is presently being effected through such local organ izations as A.A., Dale Carnegie, and Toastmasters International. At least �t's something -to think about. To dream about ••• CH -.3- · .. • · : 1 '- ·. ,.. f"'. • ·- ·: • . • • . .J. · O. "Henry,: the.·writer who .first�. �ew-York City--a familiar ·plaee ·ror mfll1�:ns ot pfople beyond .its rea�Q,,· was born�William Sidnet Porter '-ih ·1862 in Greensboro, North Carolina. There he spent his youth, encouraged t_o read by his teacher. aunt with. whom he lived. -HEt wqrked in his uncle's 'drug· st·ore after he · · · · · · · ·,, · ' left .�chool ii:t tifte�n. .. · · · · . . ..,�- \; 'As .a young man, ·o. �y.�s.-threaten�d ,�:Lth .tuberculosis: hlid he went to live on a ranch,· ,in Texas £.or ,two yeau-s- t<>. re:cover hls health,-iater;going' . to work in �he <;}eneral, la.rid Oft�e in A-ustin·• ., .. After. hi.s . marriage he took a job as
.- ·�teller , in a_. bank which., lu.s biograppere s�-, was run; wi'hh· "-astoni'shing luity." _. . . � - - ,, - , .. .' _·: Slior·tages were.,ftiuhd. in O. He�y•_s a�Qf;>\lnts. ·rne�i.tably ae 1 ·1ost'his'job, and mO"l/$d on to Houst'on where he worker:t.on,.the Houston'fg§l,; -sometim$· later, when he was ordered to stand trial ., he left via New Orleans for Honduras. There he remained until his wir.ers illness: called· him back to·Austin,· where he had to stand· trlaL · o'. HE3pry. made n� attempt O tp defend himself, and bis f'ligh� was regarded as positive eyidence Q� �is _guj.lt.. · ,.,-, · .. , , ..·,, ; . it was w}:li.le serving his term in. tbe.-ie<1era.Lpenitet1ti:ary at ·'ColumbliS:, Ohio, ;:c·tha.t o. Henry took his pen·.name from Or,rin Henry,·a:guard at the prison ., '-and began · · · · ' · · · · · �o write· seri�sly. On the basis of the stories he had sold to magazines while i� prison, o. Henry came .to Ne:vv Y:Qrk in... 1902. , 'Dlere he ·wroter prodigiously tor various mag- .. azines"'and 'the N�w Yor_k•W9!:ld� -�arc�ly -able· .tO!ikeep Ul)•With- the demand for his stories� Barely eight years later, Q •. Henry- was .the ·moat: wide1.y read author in
the ce>un't?ry. � 1lr) spite . o!' his\i'aQ\llous, suca.es·s, O. Henry remained a quiet·,: con siaerate· )�n whose favo,rite pas:tiima w�s r.oa.ming the;_ city's· streets,. ga the:ring · with his kes.n repo.rter's . ey:e t�e:;det�ls .0£: city lUe·wbioh· · made hiis.stories -· : ";_j • · · �h ·mqre•" " t� :\,' cleligllt!'Y.lly_ .. : • . contrived • • puazle.s. •• '"·1·: i . • ,• . , i ', . . Million� or, been:'amsed by o. Henry'�'•,hu�or and charmed with his adr9it development1"ea'3,ers)1av�,r;n.d. aoincid�ce _. , :�o bring, about:- desii-ed re su1ts • ·.An in dispensable ingredient·of the modern short story in our literature has been added as a resu,l.t of O •. Henr1��-s;un¢n«ly effective ·l'lS(t or ,:the 'surprise e�ding 1 whi.eh has, in fact, QOIJle. to be.::k»� as the 11 0 •. Henry· twi§t. 1 He ·was'an:ex tremeiy, prolific writer and p�Qd\lcecbbundreds-of short atori-es . peopled with wonderful• characters pl.ac,c;i.in.�&i,�,cal eituati�s and one ot the m�st widely popnlar writers ever to come from thEt Anieribian scene•is•. : · · · · , · · ',
f . o. He� was one-o.t the. firs� :YQi'iters·,td,.:fal:t ifl;lot.,e4:ltl"'.,New York City. It.-was'·an ex_.otic oap;i.taL:tph,im•. 'J:Ae oity 111'8YnO·longer resemble thellBaghdad on.�the Hlid;:ion." }le desc�ibed•. ,. Yet. JieZ:J.pi..te the intervening ·generations, where the city has taken ·the wQrst :of it· _fy,9m _otber,11:riters, hundreds:or young men and women ·every ye� still � the.ir pllgriniag�·,t.o it, •thereby:sustairiir,tg · o� i,enry's greater truth: . ;t t he.icity'. U\l"�M-lJ., to, the· young�- th abulous Ame17f�an ; . �_ -� : � f dream ot endleS1' _oppor.twii ty. AI:lcl·this ie one· of the; reasons why 6. Heney.. i:e- mains. perenially .p_QP�+&r;• · . · . . , · ·,. ·•: ·, ·< _ . ·. · · ·
In 1910 the disease"which had stalked his life finally caught up with him. He died in New York,,Qf t�bercul�i� -� th� age of £orty-e,ight. -'O. lfenry's last words were typical: '"Pull up the shades so that I can see New York." ## THE - ~· ..) f\.1,-,...... " ,,, . �· ...... ,,...... ,_ ...... ,..•. ..: ...... ,.,...... -~~-~ ~~~~~~
� t'=1 W~TE~..···· ... . . '''i:u:rc.. ···· ·...·····•··· ...... , ...... ··., ...... ···•-;:·,·,.. •·· P~ so \ - �
- , ~ . When he went- to·prison, he had a.record of petty crime--most of it committed to support an irresistable desire for the high life of wine, women and song. When he left pr,ison four years later he had a small b!lllk account, a l�rge degree •.of self re spect, a fine vocation and a job waiting for him. As far-as penologists are concerned, this is a classic case ef. rehabilitation. -What happened to this nian; whom we shall call Frank, is true. It really happened. In prison, Frank took·up'writing to fill his spare time. The statistics: Frank was twenty-five years old with two y�ars of high school. He-had·wprked ·at various factory jobs but the salary never seemed enough to support his wife and child--�d the kind __of night life Frank felt he was entitled to.
·When a prison official asked Frank what plans he.had for using his time11 con structively while in prison, Frank answered ., "Looking forward to getting out! - . But Frank was not telling the· whole __ truth..:. .., SeQ.fetly he ·a lems he has encountered and the solutions he feels are needed. Writing also keepsI him busy during those leisure hours which, if left in a vacuum 1 , ,can shrivel a man s soul. ' · There are other benefits, the experts point out. From sales, the convict re ceives money which can help his fai;iily while in prison or can be saved for his use on. eelease�The side benefit of this, of course, is the lifting of a burden from society. F.inal.iliy� ·the, convict. while >m;•itie.g1 learns a usefu:il:i. atGiupa.tHiB. . ife,.aay-never be able to support himself by his writing, but he may be able . to augment his income� or at least, express himself-communicate. -5- Most prisons but not all of them,·encourag� �he WCl�d-be writers among the con-. :ar1Lpeftfitt �-Ai'e vic.:t._ JlO,PUlaJ;J1;m _. � And re.ports. fr�:·-pr:isOJ:?.� _ w�e.re _ such activities � very-·eircouraging·. Ther.e ha.ve been inetanees tlf �- aqcee•��•-�er'.a:t�n:ma es selling for hundreds: of dollars; of longer works earni?l6 far: greater amo,,mt�. , · ' . � ' I • For Frank it meant an entirely new life. ro le�n writing he hadtto read more and thereby acquired an entirely new �et of values. He also learned.to. , qo�nicate bett.er and this enabled him to write to-,_various ernploye�s al} tbat .was · ··. · · ··-· · waiM.ng ..!o:c::�him--u� ;his release fr�� prison� " The desire and newly-�aiped ability.to wr�te remain� with Frank and he still uses it as an outlet� ,, It i� an added'1d.e�ight tha.t the product helps him to augment his income• From the standpQint. o� s ocf��ty, however, t� . 1.'�n�ra.tion is secondary• ,The ,important' thing.·· is the -·reh(lbilitati:ve eftects. writing has on· eonvic;ts.; ·�·No ..,one has been able to analyze these. g.uan1;,at�v·e1y� .Almc,st no o�e dOllbts•.that-they:•�rexist. Here is what Ernest C.;Brooks, a well-krlown Michigan penologist, has to.•say: . ' "In the State Prison of Southern �chiga.p.. there are men of ·all•:stage.s, illiter- , ates as well as college graduates'� :i:nte.re�tingly. enough,. some who do' not-have· suf,... ficient educ,ation to write successfiilly·are amorig those most anxious to try. These men are worked with patiently and given �very .possible .encouragement--so:that·�•tirey . . ... at least spend their time-constructively.· --- . ; • , •. -- •• ,.f . • •· •. ; _:__ ; 1;.i,; C ;:"' i • • ,.. _ ·".For l2'years I ha.ve·watched every movement,every. p�lse_be�t of •thisl�experimanlt :and in JIG" opinion it has been· a complete success. ; T he . cost _is,. -nolllinal -:and superi visory .problems ·are negligible.· The program gives· the inmates an opportunity to find expression for any creative ability. theyJJ¥iY ha�e.>: Frcom the. 's�dpoint of re ·sociali:21ing prisoners, no ·one can d�ini t.el.y. state the _poten-tial. But i:t : -D11st:1>e there •. Educators, penologists, and legislat·ors across the nation--even in foreign countries--have written to me asking f<;>:r:-, the forrrw.a which b,as been,•.so :successful in i.e.-, .our· state-... or, course., I am· only too happy �P- pas·s it on. , · :- - ,,· · · . : ''.(:' 't'.1·:·'.;'; II Here is part of it: A three-man inmate manus·cript ·�'ommittee. is first estab lished to censor all writings to be submit_ted t.o editors .. and,_ :publishers.· On the surface;- this idea may sound unworkable. ·· The - novel idea of an I nmate; .Ma.n\1$�ipt Committee-placing unheard-of and untried trust in the .hands of0 convicts,�might rai-se official,eyebrows and call forth.Dl8.n1 dife predictions. -Bu.t.bere in Jackson Prison; we:, encount'ered · no problems� · Literally· mil;I.ions. pf words· h�ve · pe.ssed t�ough the inmate committee wiihw.t one single violation trust! Scores of men during off hours sit in their cells, thinking, scr.;b,bling .onqf bits of paper, 'or,,:punching,a ·type writer ins te&d of engaging -�� all_ �inds '. of d�vil try. . , ·· -< : - , ·, "Collaboration between inmates is permitted _and �>ne team :t�t is:. contin� selling to top ,mapkets is-- composed of a writer and an artist. Both do unusually good work and by combining their tale;11ts, they �_ell t,o markets that �ither-•fll;.i.ght be able .·to satisfy alone. ·, · · . . · . .· - • ,: · .. - 110ur ·Director of Corrections· cibmb.urs with. • .that even if · .. aJDSA.ne-.er ma.kes:·ai 1 dollar by, writlng , he has improved himself by ·occupying his mind. lin '!;his_r,wq• .. Our· Warden agrees and ··adds ·· that the writing program has become a stabilizing influence: for the general prison population. ' ... " J'ihile a large percentage of all the writi� d�n�-� in our prison is.'in th;· ,..eetm of-articles', fillers ana ·short fiction, there have, 'been some .l.Nrics eomp.osed.,and: some set to music and' recorded. Also, -more than· a· score of men have spent from- six,. months to two years each bringing to birth a brainchild in the form of a book-length manuscript. Most of _the books have_ not a� yet been published �'but,,Qfficials.;...i...aabo once�-were·hesitant about this program-�nc,w point out .that tbe benefi°t4s�which·wr:tters · are obtaining 'from·tneir 'continued ·and cc,ncentrated efforts _ an4. . the right,, tltink.ing that must go into acceptable literature Ere-� of great value ••• " ## EDWARD APPLEBY ·· La.st April, in Phoenix, I agreed to talce my son and three of his boy friends to the movies. The feature movie was being premiered so. consequently the tickets were $2.00 each for the children and �2.75 for mine. While standing in line to buy our tickets I noticed a slightly built man with bushy eyebrows and a brooding countenance. He was staring intently at me. However my attention to him was. diverted by several lovely yougg females in the line who I couldn't help admiring. But I couldn't shalce off a strange feeling that I was being watched and I turnoo around -and a,.gain looked at the small man. To my surprise he was now standing directly behind me and sort of�crowding me a little. I thought to myself, "What's with this character?" It might have been only my imagination but I felt a sudden blast.of cold wind, brush the nape of my neck and I turned up the collar of my coat. No question about it--this guy was beginning to bug me. When we entered the door leading.into the long lobby of the theater, the line of people dispersed and I momentarily lost sight of him. Then I saw him standing by himself in a corner of the lobby. He held a small package in his right hand, I noticed, and now his eyes were strangely agleam-kind of wild looking. Suddenly he became· aware that I was watching him. He quickly averted his eyes and appeared to clutch the small package tighter to his side. I shrugged and turned my attention to a more attractive sight: a pair of shapely legs. I admired them appreciatively and silently nodded my approval of the tight red dress, the snug-fitting sweater (and its contents), finishing up with a final appraisal of the blonde's blue eyes. Not bad. But then I noticed that she was staring directly at the short, repulsive man. Her eyes grew wider and I saw a hint of fear and apprehension reflected in them. Half puzzled and half angry, I swung my gaze in _his direction. He returned my look with cold disdain--almost as if he dared me to· act •••••. By now I was tiring of him and his odd manners and shot him a _look that was threatening, hoping to scare him off. But he only scowled back.at me and tightened his grip on his package. I now came to the conclusion that_ he must be suffering from paranoid delusions; he was evidently neurotic or psyohotic so I decided to ignore him. Feeling a little warm, I laid the five tickets, which were joined together, down on the edge of the decorative planter in the lobby and removed my coat. I lighted a cigarette and smoked as I waited for the boys to buy their supply of cokes and pop-corn. I swear that no more than five minutes could have e1apaed-no more--but when I reached down to pick up the tickets, they were gone! -7- . ,:' I spun around looking for the thief. To say that I was angry would be putting it -lllil-d-ly. .. I was ·furious! · And I h$d a ready-mac8.e suspect-the sneaky J,.ittle.... �1:lar$c.ter. with his damn package. But he was nowhere in sight. As I con tinued to look over the crowd I again saw the blonde in the red dress. She ex citedly pointed- at' -the usher who was taking tickets and I quickly glanced in that direction.· � heart aceeierated its beat when I caught a glimpse of my suspect. He had just passed through the turnstile and entering the darkened theater area - heading for a seat. ·r _let out a yell and ·sprinted after him. He must have heard me because he'threw me a quick, frightened look over his shoulder and re doubled his speed down the aisle. I tried to follow him but the ticket-taker barred my way. "Tickets, please," he said. "No admittance without tickets,· sir." "But that guy just � my tickets!" I hollered. "let me pass....;I' 11 "Sorry, sir, be said firmly. 11You Jl!W!i have a ticket. No exceptions." For a moment I just stood there quivering_with anger and. frust:eation. Man, it �took all � :w111 power to keep from sluggi:� the id�ot--honest. A curious crowd had now gathered, however, and I forced myself' to simmer down. I muttered a few appropriate curses and turned' away. · 11c 1 mon, kids," I growled. "let1 s go home. No show today, I'm afraid." . ., w t • \ BUt m, son and hfs friends set up such a clamor of piteous howling at my announCement that· I didn't have. the heart··to g� through .wi1ih it. So rather· than be washed down the lobbyin a river of childish'tears, I reluctantlyrshelled .olit. the price fOtt: five more expensive ticke�s� ·· · · · · . . . . , ... ' ' . . ' ' . Vfuen•we were finally-seated I wasi�o irri�ated'_I couldn't enjoy the movie., All I could think was that miserab1e· litt1,.e rat who h�d stolen nv tickets. I ached .to get: '11\Y' bands:-onor his neck and squeeze it like a dish rag� Instead of_ . watching the screen I tried to take my mind off my troubles by.admiring the cute members of the female faip:\.ly (girl watching being my �avori te .hobby), and this lifted my spiri tlir somewhat·. Bui I badri•t c�mpletely forgotten the little , crumb _· who had· manag,ed to spoil liJ1 whole dey-. . Then I f!potted h:,.m! And almost under. my very nose, at that. He occupiedi a seat itl the s� row itle an,d kids were seated in and obviously bad'not see.t' me.·_ He was �lunipeq down iii: bis _. seat,_his eyes gleaming in the, semi-darkne$� , as·_ they. absorbe9 the action on the screen. Once . or twice !·heard a low,�� laugh escape his ·thick; sensual lips and oc casionally he rubbed his hands together exci,tedly. The seat next to hi� was empty-and on it lay his ))recious package. : A_ p,lan,.r� revenge formed in iqy mind. ' •' • ! ' I • J ,, When: the movie was over the boys became. r�stles�. imd. �anted to leave im mediately. This-suited me fin.a because tpe little worm bad his.. eyes glued to the screen' where a newsreel :was being 'flashed; the package· entirely:unprotected. As we filed out I simply· reached down and scooped it up--just like that.. As we trooped up the aiste ori 0\1r way out, I gl1U1,9ed back to.�ee, if he had noticed my theft. He sat slumped'in• hi� sea:t �s'befpre, hi� eyes etill wat�hing the screen. I congratulated myself, "Yes., you' sure. pulled :1,t, off good� That -1118kes us even: . with the louse. He stole my tic.kets_but now I've got his.package. We're .even!" . ', �- . . . . . ' . When m:, son and I reached home I placed th.e, package on the kitchen table. Then I took a quick shower and changed into fresh clothes .for� early appoint ment with some: friends on the other side of town•. Tbe' afternoon's unfortunate happenings had· all but slipped m:, mind as ! drove awey from the . house.. Of course I was still a little angry about the loss pf tickets (and the extra cash it cost me) bUt this was offset when I conjectured what was inside �.package. The fo.1- lowing morning I looked for it'in the kitchen but it was gone. Nobody in the house had seen it. I searched tul ovw·, but I never found it. Never. ## -8- '"THE The average inmate who violates.the Law has no more intention of becoming a c,riminal than the average person who takes a drink has of becoming a drunkard. The average-pn.son inmate finds an element of self-disgust in his make-up and an overpowering determina.tion to go.straight once he is given the chance. The trou ble is that after the first misstep he really isn't given much of a chance. . ' Let any person with average strength or character walk down the front steps --of .a prison with only gate money in his pocket, a prison suit on his back, prison shoes on his feet, a ticket to some distant town where he is intending to begin life ov.er, and see how far he gets. If he tries to get a job by being fair and truthful about his prison record, he doesn't get the job. His stomach, however, goes right on demanding food-job or no job. If he manages to get a job by. con cealing his prison record, there comes a time when the man•s past catches up with him and he finds hl,.mself out of the job, a,nd this time with two strikes against him because prospective empl�rs "idll.ant to· Jmn-iraere:_hei-was last.. appl�d why the relationship .was terminated. The average man would be unable to get a good start under these conditions and with ng more financial leeway than a gate- money cushiori. The ex�inmate who hasn't built up his power of decision while in a place ,rhere most or his decisions have been made for him is at a disadvantage. This isn't the way things should be; this is the way there are. And it is a shame be... cause once the released inmate falls into crime once more be forfeits a.lot more in terms of self respect and a blighted career as far as he is concerned--and costs society a lot iri terms of cold hard dollars as far as mone7 is concerned. If society gave the released inmate enough money so that he stood a real ·· chance at rehabilitation, there would be a howl go up from the taxpayers. There fore society, which has problems of its own, does the best it can with what it has to offer. An overworked parole officer tries to get jobs for most of the promising inmates who are released prior to the expiration of sentence, but here again conditions vary. Some men_,would rather serve out their sentences to the last bitter day and be on their own once they are released than to have an ear lier release and be held to the strict terE. of parole which exist in some states. All in all, it's a mess. And the fact that we have a constantly increasing number.. of inmates should surprise no one. Despite the disastrous disadvantages of having served a term in prison, there are some good things about it, if the inmate has the determination and guts to take advantage of opportunities. For one thing, he has time within which to appraise himself and time within which to develop his talents. He really has more time than opportunity. One of the greatest ways in which a man can devel.Op .him- · self' is to understand character; the character of;thos� about him--and his own who character. This is especially true where it c,;mJterns. - those inmates are,in- · terested in becoming wr;ters. / A man who becomes interested in writing has t� create che,racters. In so,. doing, he learns something about character itself. Pers�ns who try t'o become writers are moving steadily along an upward path whether they realize it or:not. The inmate who makes a serious effort at writing articles 9r fiction or both is picking up the pieces. of his· life and ,pµtting· them together in a' constru�tive manner. The trouble is that I personally know of nothing more discouragillj than creating brain children that.are unwanted and seeing them come-dejectedly home with rejection slips pinned to their breasts. Now and then an inmate stays with it long enough and has enough natural talent so he crashes the.commercial fields, but for the .most part it's a long uphill struggle and, human nature-peing what it is, it's _almost impossible to stay with it unless there is some means.of encour agement somewhere along the line. That's where the so-called Penal Press comes in. I have said it before and I want to say it again, that if one of the ·found ations·would endow the Penal·Press so that the prison magazines could be bigge!'. in size, better in forms.t, and could perhaps pay· tn prison prfvile,ge� for con- , tributions, it would be the greatest step toward curbing crime that society could take. I am a self-made writer� At the time-I started writing, I 'lived in_a rural community. I had no natural aptitude for story telling; I wrote pr_obably the worst .stories that ever hit the editorial offices in New York City, and there w.ere no writer's magazines or professional help available. I sin1ply had tC> do it t�e ·hard·way. There just wasn't any-other way. I could never·have made the grade if it hadn't been for the fact that in those days there were literally dozens of the so-called wood pulp magazines which were hungry for material. As a writer, I know -of nothing which improves a writar more and encourages a writer more than to see his stuff in print. It is difficult for a writer 'to judge his own material in manuscript form. But once he sees these'words in print in a magazine he is able to judge his own material better and get a clearer un der-standing of what is needed to improve it. Mdreover, he has the .encourage· · ment of ·seeing his brain child wanted and accepted by society. Inmates' who start developing their better qualities and.their qualifications are a much better security risk than those who don •t. · When. they are released, :: they are capable of facing their problems with a better perspective. While a man is an inmate, developing his writing ability is one of the best 111ays to de velop his talents. If some foundation would take a fraction of the money that is •· spent on investigating· the causes of crime and subsidize the so-calied Penal Press those dollars would pay astonishing dividends. A man who has lost his self respect is hard put to get society.to respect him; and self respect has,to be regained·by dint of hard work and ste� devel opment. Don't worry so much about how society is going to rehabilitate prison . ·inmates; let the inmates have a decent opportunity to rehabilitate themselves. Let them develop themselves and in so doing develop a measure of self respect. Let's give them something constructive to do which will develop ch,arac·ter. ·. If the Penal Press could be subsidized, the magazines that are being turned out ceuld have better printing, better illustrations, better .format, and inore pages. In mates could send these magazines with pride to their friends and relatives. And_ if they were well written and well edited, they could give the 'outsider' a better view of prison life and the temperament and problems ot the inmate. - If we don't get a better understanding, we're apt to go along 'in the old dreary treadniill of taking men who really want to rehabilitate themselve�same and returning them to society as bitter,_ d1sillus1orted dn instead of' uselul,�oreat.ive )I� · · citizens. ._,, CHESS ·c-OLUMfl i Here is t short game called I.EGA.L'S LEGACY you, may wish to study: WHI'IE·- BLACK. 1. P-K4 P"!"K4 2. N.,..KBJ P-QJ 3. B-BA B""'.N5: 4. N-BJ. P-KN.3 5. NxP BxQ 6. BxP ch K-K2 7. N-Q5 mate If Black Bishop ca.ptures the · Wbi te Quee� at· �ove #5 then, -1 t is .all over for Black., However, should Black cho.ose to capture the kihite Knight ·at -movfI #5, then.White Queen captures B�ack Bishop �d thus g�ins control of the center. This next game is somewhat longer but it is ene of the -most intriquing games I have ever studied. White seems. t9 stumble along until move #20; at that point,we see th purpose for what had seemed. to� . . so many aimless. moves. The ,finish is a master- piece! � 1. P-K4 ·13. Q-R4. 1. P,-K4 13. B-N.3 2� N-KB.3 14. QN-Q2 2. N�QB3 l4. B.. N2 .3. B-B4 15. N-K4 3. B-B4 15. Q�B4 4. P-QN4 16. Bx QP 4. BxP 16. Q-R4 5. P-B.3 17. N-B6 ch 5. B-R4 17. PxN .6. P-Q4 18. PxP - 6. -PxP 18. R.;..Nl 7. 9-0 19. QR-Ql - - . 7. P-Q6 ; 19. QxN 8. Q-N.3 20. RxN c� 8. Q-B.3 20. NxR: 9. P-K5 21. QxP ch 9. Q-N3 2L KxQ 10. R-Kl 22. B-B5 dbl ch 10. KN-K2 22. K-Kl 11. B-R.3 23. B-Q7 ch . 11. P-N4 2.3. K-Ql 12. QxP 24. BxN mate 12. R-QNl B,EIVElvlBER: It is nice ,to win every game but for most .of us this is impossible.· So, under certain conditions you·should actively work toward securing a draw. Why should you try to draw a chess_ game rather than try. to wi� it? Here are five reason� worth considering:· 1. If you are behind in material with no prospects of regaining it 2. lf you have been outplayed positionally. 3. If you are about to lose material. 4. · Or about to be mated. 5. If.you will be at a disadvantage if you-try to avoid a draw. I hope you enjoy· playing these two games. See you again -in 't:tie next issue of The Vanguard ••• -11- mRKES GOOD EX-conrv:RITES i\10,ooo fRIZE-wnNNIN� !i™ ! Did you happen to see this newspaper headline? ·Of oourse·you didn't. But if Frank Elli (see story below) had been picked up by the police and charged nth a. crime the local newspapers would undoubtedly have written a headline something like this: EX-CON CHARGED WITH BRUTAL Q�. Buried in the back pages of the June,�1�66 issue of the Wri:t;nr's,Digest magazi more a few there appeared a small-news item that· was probably noticed by not than has hundred readers. It stated: "Frank Elli, a 40-year-old paroled convict who served sentences in San Quentin, Walla vialla and Stillwater, Minn., used his time learning linotype operating and studying writing by correspondence. Early next yea; Coward-Mccann will publish his first novel, � �- · (Elli was at Walla Walla during a riot.) The publisher has already awarded the . book a ilO ,ooo prize and the; bidding is talk of a film offer for 11 which ··· John Geohagan, president• · · or�, thinks should begin at $300,000.00 The newspapers ignored Frank-Elli's remarkable success·story. Why? Over the years the ex-convict and parolee has been portr�ed by the Press� the TV-Movie industry as some'Jd.dd �f.ttii011S .am.ini.l1completely devoid of any bu.man qualities.· Watch any-- dramat:te movie·or television progran(and if an ex-convict or parolee is part of .the story he will 'surely be depicted as a suriy, uneducated and· treacherous character. This is sterotyping ·at.. its lowest level .. And as a result tJ public is made. to believe that every man who has served a sentence in prison spends the remainder of his life·lurking in dark, evil places-waiting to spring out and savagely attack the citizeill\'y. in one way 'or another. This· image creating and. label affixing is not only unjust but unspeakably cruel. Every day hundreds _of men (and women) leave Federal and stat& institutions and earnestly attempt to regain their places in the community. But at the very moment that he walks .through the pris-on ·gates he is fair game -to be maligned-by the Press, haraaaed.· .. bf. the police and viewed with suspicion by his neighbors. Why? 'Why do supposedly intelligent and decent people resort to this relentless persecution and head-hunting? . It's about time that this campaign of hate e.nd distrust that is being'directed against ex-convicts and parolees be brought to a halt.· It's about time that people who profess to live according to the Golden Rule stop•being hypocrites. And it's about time that the Press quit using the prefix "ex-con" when such a person is arret ed and charged.with a crime because this practice is just as despicable as the use a prefix when identifying the arrested party as a reformed ex-politician, ex-judge, ex-policeman, ex-clergyman,.ex-prostitute, etc� If an arrested person is presumed -t be innocent of a charge until proven guilty then he certainly should be treated in�i unbiased and unprejudiced manner. Why should the fact that he has unfortunately served time in prison be-splattered all over the newspapers in blaring hea(llinest Nobody can deny that this only··serves to whet the public's appetite for cheap sen sationalism and irreparably handicaps the accused from receiving a fair trial. �ver if he is found to be innocent the damage is already done because the "ex-con" public ity will have probably cost·hfm his job and place in the community. Do you have any idea how many thousands of ex-convicts rejoin their families every year and become useful, law-abiding citizens? How many are heading up sucaess ful business concerns, quietly engaged in·rehabilitative work, contributing to the 1 Frank arts such as music, painting, literature? Of' course you· don t.· know. · The Ell4 of thl;.s country never appear in the headlines. -12- Conrad_.Hanser MAIN BRIEFS YA RD ______, ____ As most of our readers are aware, the Ma.in Yard Library was closed recently for the Annual Inventory. Besides taking inventory this period was also utilized by filing cards in the card catalog representing books recently received and cataloge and for repairing some of the damaged volumes that were turned in. We would like to call your attention to another matter: the Library's patrons now have some J5C odd volumes less to choose from thanks to the individuals who failed to return to the Library their books which they had checked out. This despite the fact that we mailed out notices and made special- trips to all housing units for collections. The volumes listed below were recently received, cataloged, and placed on the . shelves for circulation. When requesting a book please give the complete call num ber and your number on the slips of paper available for this purpose. For those who are not familiar with the Library schedule, it is as follows: WEEKDAIS...... 8:30 to 10:30 A.M. 1:00 to 4:00 P.M. WEEKENDS•••••••• 2 :00 to '4:30 P. M. HOLIDAYS. • • • • • • • Closed ,�------TITLE AUTHOR CAIL NU� hlzy-stery of the Aztec Warrior, The DIXON, Franklin W. D644.7m Citizens LEVIN, Meyer L578c NY., .NY OURSLER, Will OU78n .And Tell of Time KREY, Laura K889.la Before Adam LONDON, Jack 1846.4b Call of the Wild, The LONDON, Jack L846.Jc Brown Wolf and other stories IONDON, Jack 1846.lb .. Horses for the General BERRY, Erick B458Jh Bright Hunter of the Skies BEST, Herbert B464.lb Sea Warriors, The BEST, Herbert B464.2s VilJ_age Beyond, The BIDDLE, Livingston, Jr. B4?3v Glorification of Al Toolum, The ARTHUR, Robert Alan AU685g High Courage ANDERSON, C • Vi. AN233h Without Orders ALBRAND, Martha AL1.4w ·0ur Gifted Son BAKER, Dorothy 'Bl?l.80 Give Vs Our Years BANNING, Margaret C. B227.2g . Room at the Top BRAINE, John BJ?lr lva:-._.Ailepby Loses the Way BAKER, Frank Bl72.lm S�a of Adventure, The BLYTON, Enid B629.ls Homeward Trail, The BERGGREN B4535h Valiant Virginians, The BELLAH, James W. B414v. San Francisians, The BUSCH, Niven B96.2s Mys.tery of the Aztec Idol, The CARR, Harriett H. 0229.Jm There,Was a Time CALDWELL, Taylor Cl274.5t For fvW Great Folly COSTAIN, Thomas B. 08232.if White Terror of the Atlantic CLIFT, Dennison C614w Kiss ivie Again, Stranger DU l\AURIER, Daphne D892.Bk Flight of the Falcon, The DU lliiAURIER, Daphne D892.10f -13- TITLE ·AUTHCR CALL NUMBER White Banners DOUGLAS, Lloyd C. D746,5w Path, The DELIBES, Miguel D379p Lost Caesar, The FENISONG, Ruth F358.1L Fortune Tellers, The FLEMING, Berry F629.lf Case of the Daring Decoy, The GARDNER, Earle Stanley Gl72.l3c Amaru FRISBIE,: Robert Dean F918a Imposter, The GERSON,- Noel B. · G324i Iv:a.ssingham Affair, The GRIERSON, Edward G873m Far Lands, The HALL, James Norman H143.lf Trail to High Pine HAMILTON, Wade Hl805t Oblong Blur & other Odysseys, The HAMBURGER, Philip Hl75o Surgeon, The HEINZ, W.C •.· H366s Nick Carter , Detective CORYELL, John C818n Wreck of the Mary Deare, The . INNES, Hammond IN6.2w Wrath and the Wind, The KEY, Alexander K52w Build-up Boys, The KIRK, Jeremy K634b Cover His Face KYD, Thomas K982c ,MUrder Has Its Points LOCKRIDGE, Frances 1813.5m Distant Clue, The LOCKRIDGE, Richard 181,3.4d Ask No Quarter MARSH, George M353a Eight For Eternity ROBERTS, Cecil R54le Tell Sparta SEDGVdCK, A.G. SE285t . Occupational Outlook Handbook U.S. Dept. of Labor 371,42-USlo Madeira & the Canary Islands GORDON-DRO!\'N, A. 946. 9-G653m Books Were Opened (Religion) BREVICK, Harald 200-B758b-'4 Epic of the Maccabees, The MINDLIN, Valerie 296-M66le- 1 6 Golden Book of Eastern Saints, The ATTWATER, Donald 23 5-AT88g-'3 Vogue's Book of Ettiquette FENWICK, Tulillicent 395-F368v-'4 Ild. Rather Be President (Satire) ELLIS, Charles 817-EL59i- 1 5 Sailors of Fortune (vn1 #2) MACKENZIE 940.54-Ml 96s You Are Psychic WILLIAMS, Sophia l33,9-W675y Fig}?.ting Editors SCHlvaTT, Jo Ann 920. 5SCH56f Quest of the Romanoff Treasure, The HAMlVER, Armand 910.4-Hl83q Harvest of the Years, The (Autoby) BURBANK, Luther 925-B89lh- 1 4 Step Right Up! (Carnivals) ,.MANNIX, Don 790-M316s-'5 Fabulous Showman, The (P.T. Barnum) WALLACE, Irving 927-Wl55f-'5 Sweeping Wind, The (Autobiography) DEKRUIF, Paul 928-D34s-196 March of Muscovy, The (Russia) LA.MB, Harold 920-Ll66.2m No Latitude for Error (Antartic) HILLARY, Sir Edmond 919.9H556n America Today; Life in Literature CARVER, Charles H. 810-C257a-'5 Living Letters from American Hi.story BOYKIN, Edward, ed 816-08-B696L Classical Civilization (Rome) COUCH, Herbert N. 937-C8Jc- 1 40 We Seven (U.S. Astronauts in S:pace) CARPENTER, Ivl. Scott 629. l38-C227· From Galaxies to Man (Creation) PFEIFFER, John 523 .l-P476f Kon-Tiki (Across Pacific by raft) HEYERDAHL, Thor 910,4-H514k Last Resorts, The AMORY, Cleveland 910-AM681- 1 5� NUmber One (American fiction) DOS PASSOS, John 813-D74.ln Long Se�son, The (Baseball) BROSNAN, Jim 927-B793L-'6C John Adams & The American Revolution BOVffi:N, Catherine D. 923-B675.lj story of Ernie Pyle, The WuLLER, Lee G. 920-IVI616s- 1 50 Act One (Autobiography) HART, Nross 927-H252a-'59 Anvil of the Gods (Nonfiction) MoCLEiviENT, Fred 629.13Ml32a Introduction to Narrative Writing, An SAFFORD, Ruth B. 808-SA17a- 1 3C 1965 Session Laws for State/Arizona STATE OF ARIZONA 328.3AR47n 6� 18,000 Words Often Mispronounced PllliFE, William Henry ·. REF-421-P569e -14- -~•XI·.... ~' ~--:,· . . ' 1·-:J.~' ·. ... ;" ~ .. · .. :.:::.·•:: '-An 'ESS-AY- ' ~.'-::)£~'?6 ·-\t\ :-: ' . '' .n•~.- ,,·\: · - • ! ffl!fff}:�tj: . : :;.;'--::._;-_:;/_-.. -2_:...�: ____?��!��!���� )'·,.-._ I ,.":,".. . . , ' ..- ' ALBERT LAnE .. . ' . . ·::1 . . , JJ-r 1--JE s 1 J\J J s-r £ r � , G s � J J\J ;\ J\JD - 1'v1£: J\J 11 ': tif� If you have not recently read, Lewis Carroll's book,·•Alice in !Qnderland, I strongly recommend that you do. It is one of those classic bits of literature - that Qear repititious reading and yield ever�new insights into life and reality. Of Alice's Wonderland adventures, the one with the-Cheshire Cat remains strongest in my reflections as doubtless the most significant and illuminating by far. That Carroll's March Hare is good none will deny, and that his Mad Hatte.r is getter, I think everyone will agree. But the best adventure of Alice by far is that with the bewhiskered Cheshire Cat. As. you will recall, the Cheshire Cat was perched on a bough in a ·nearby tree, all l.U)beknown to our Alice., . iVµ_O was, startled when its wa tchf'ul presence ·was be trayed to. her. Mr. _Carroll informs his readers that the cat only grimaced when Alice glanced upon -it._ He �ooked good natured enough, she thought; still he had long claws and a good many teeth, so she felt it should be treated with respect. The young miss spoke to the Cheshire Cat which pleased her by grinning a little wider. The extraordinary thing about the cat was not the suddenness with which' it appeared., but the grad�l man_ner in which it. melted away, spectre-like, to vanish into nothingness before her eyes. In this apparition-like fashion, the · cat came and went a number of. times. At length Alice·said, almost reprovingly, 11 1 wish you wouldn't keep appear�_ ing and vanishing so suddenly; you make me quite giddy." The cat was agreeable. "All right," it said, and began to vanish ever-so slowly, beginning at the tip of its tail and ending with the grin which lingered. at length after the mass of the cat had disappeared. "Well, I've often seen a cat without a grin," Alice mused, ·11 but a grin-with.-.· out a cat! It's the most ci;n-ious thing I've seen in my life!" Poor artless little Alice! In.her youthful naivete she supposed the grin. one and all with the cat. I, like her, in my unsophisticated childhood, ':houg}J.t the two inseparable, and that to make an end of the cat was also to ring clown tpe curtain on the_ grin. : But I .was mistaken,• and the notion per·sisted until -I > ·rorsook my faith in fairies. and folklore.. However, I was a child, and that was · long ago. I am now aware that to get rid of the cat is the easiest thing _iri the· world. Ten cents worth of pharmaceutical poison or a pail of. water Will dispatch·· all nine of its lives at, once. -15- But then persists the problem or the grin. Though you sink your tabby into the unfathomable depths of the deep blue se4 or intoxicate it with the most lethal concoction of the apothecary's art, you cannot-,garrot its grin! Like Alice, you soon learn that the grin always survives your cat. Every individual who has drowned a cat knows full well that he carried from the scene of his crime feE!lings of guilt and wretchedness as poignant upon his conscience as those felt by the vilest felon ever hanged. From the boughs of every tree and from every ledge and wall, the grin remains long after the cat has gone. Surely Mr. Carroll has pictured for all of us one of the most striking examples of childhood simplicity freighted with sober implications for sophisticated adulthood in all our literature through his portrayal of little Allee marvelling at a grin. linger ing in a treetop long after the cat had disappeared. For almost fprty years I have at times been haunted by the grins of an old felt hat full of kittens I executed in my tender childhood. Our cat population down on the farm was burgeoning out of bounds. I had overheard my father complain• ing of the problem to my mother. I knew that one of our mother cats had a litter of kittens in an old felt hat in our smokehouse. All at once, a solution to Dad's problem occurred to me and I soon had the old hat and its living contents out in the cotton patch behind the smokehouse. There was a common adage around h.or,ie that, "there are more ways to kill a cat than to choke it to death on butter," so I �hoked mine- on Texas farm dirt. Thus I did my part to solve the feline pop ulation explosion, But who was to help me solve my lasting problem of a guilt laden conscience which almost never escaped that hat full of kitten.grins that forever re�ined down in the bottom of my mind ·to make me feel I was the meanest boy alJv�1 . ,.'.1'};lree generations ago, the Bergonian philosophy shook and stirred the entire philosophical world as possibly no.other ever did. Professor Henri Bergson (1859- 1941), a French philosopher, proposed the theory that movement itself is reality, possibly quite apart from matter. In his book, L'Evolution Creatr!ce, Creative Evolution, .he argued that things that .movef-do not cause .movement, but rather are caused by it; creative phenomena he represented as a generative force that is the significant tact of the material world. In a word, M. Bergson's rather involved philospopbical system concerns itself with the question or whether we can have movement without a thing moving. This, we might aver with confidence, is a more sophisticated way of asking whether we can have a grin without a cat. Having subscribed to the philosophy of Mr. Lewis Carroll, r find that, as a matter of intellec.tual consistency and· ethnic decency, I am· conipelled to· concu:r with the· conclusions of M. Bergson in order tp retain my own personal.inte•grity. Whether the Frenchman Bergson and the Englishman Carroll ever were acquaint ed or ever collaborated, Id� not know. Lewis Carroll was the·pen name (literary alias) for one Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832-1898), who w�s a contemporary of Bergson.. Be that as it. may, I doubtless owe the two of them certain posthumeus apologies for my uncermonious jumbling together of Alice in ,wondez:land and L'Volution Creatrice. Since each on� is in excellent company with the other, however, there should be no strained emotions in the circumstances which I have so deliberately created.· When Bergson contends you can have pure movement without a thing moving, he is in concordance with Carroll who demonstrated, for Alice at least, that you can have a grin remaining long after the demise of the oat .... Now, to turn from the nebulous mists of abstraction, let us take up the illustrated phenomena of the concrete. I once offended a very elose friend of mine, albeit in unwitting inadvertazice:. Sin1.1e .I highly cherished his friendship, I was no little concerned at his sudden · · and unexplained coolness-a coolness that deteriorated in due time into friction· and considerable heat. The offending incident out of which this misunderstanding grew was of obvious ambiguity and subject to several interpretations. The con struction my cherished friend had pui upon .it was, unhappily, an inaccuarate one, -11>- and it.made the11 matter a circumstance of exaggerated import-a verit��le "mountain of a molehill. Two courses of action stood open before me:_ cl�ar in conscience of any wrorr intent or motive, I might ignore the matter and do nothing, taking the attitude expressed in a comic jingle I kne_w•• • · "You mad at me? · You hate my guts? You think ·rrm nasty? You think I'm nuts? That's-� problein!" Thus I might leave the problem to:'time,f that great pallative, w�ch, they say, mollifies misunderstandings anc heal::i most wounds. Or ..I could face my �riena frankly, plead my innocence, vindicate my position, and request forgiveness for my incaution. Since his mind wa� obviously pcisoned with prejudices I knew, upon reflection, that it would be unrealistic to expect him to accept my assur ances without a discussion that might prove both tedipu.s and fruitless. Inasmuch as the former course seemed as unfair to my friend as cowardly of me, I resolved upon the latter. I prefaced my meeting with him by writing a letter, saying I sensed that he was aggrieved about'something, that I hoped we might clear it up without misunderstandings and tedium. I then went to him with my explanations and peaceful overtures, but I was met by a mad bull filled with bi.tter contention and harangue. I entreated him. to reason with me and to forgive my remiss c.onduct which lacked proper caution against a misunderstanding that could threaten our friendship� Our meeting W�S an exercise in futility, but some' inonths 'later a mutual11 friend interceded for me and drew us together a.gain. 11 ! misunderstood you, my friend assured me. "And I forgive you," he added warmly.- Thus.vani�hed the cat� I·was persona grata once again. 1 " ••• But in the future, I ,11 'observe you much more carefully. and will ex pect you to 12rove your avowed good intentions without- question .. " Thus lingered the grin. Perfection was required of me, a disclosure sl;l.outing silently 11 to high heaven from every tree-limb and wall. "Vie can never be the same a.gain! Ou. r friendship was destined to languish under a cloud and I mused in sorrow upon the touching lines of the poem, !'After the Quarrel". by C.H. Towne: We leaped upon the battlefield And struck our verbal, blows;. And neither you nor I would yield ••• Once:friends, now bitter _foes. ' ' We fought the fight, then o�er the grave Of that which we had �la.in, We clasped hands and strove to save Some ·shred of love--in vain. , For the :�·le ghost of th�t we slew Rose up in all its might; I lost the faith I had in you; You lost your trust that night. And something stalks between us now; I look in your sad eyes; ·_' You see the wounds upon my brow- Poor fools who once were wise. The ability to forgive is one of the greatest graces in life. True forgive ness is a Divine Art, Divinely imparted. l'lle difference between a good forgiver -17- .· a.rd a poor one is that the poor forgiver merely forgives,no more. He gets rid of bu e a n t gr n n t f ge u o�s.,�¥P8Ctat;o��. '�f th� -��t t. :t," t � s h� , i ; 1:t8 . �� () ings . . .. wbich ,are . forth. iQ.to :those:. )'Which ar� �fore�" . On his ocean voyage to America, John 1/eslef was one day startled in his stateroom by a clamorous j:'ffiet from �h� cabin of -�E! new:cy-formed acquaintance, British General J ame1:1. Edw�d Oglethorpe ., .fou.nder arid Governor of Georgia. Upon investigation, Mr. iiesley learnea that on� Grimaldi ., servant of Governor Ogle thorpe ., had imbibed the entire stock of that dignitary's favorite French wine. Shouting_,intendeq _vengean'fe,_that worthy_;OP,(:) crild,.With.mou.nting passio�, "I will get revenge! I have order�d him tied h�c:I..and f�ot and to be·carried · to "the ma.n-of-war'that sails with us. I nevsr forgivel". _0In which, ��Se, ·sir ., j hope you·never .. s�nt" wa� John !l��ley's wise rejoin;.. der.· · Doubtless-he. thought·or the words of the .lowly',Galilean; who taught.. Israel 1 tq pray, "Forgive u� � �respasses as we forgive tllose_who tr�spass againstus. 1 ·' .· . ,, . ' .· ·. . . Qui�te confounded. -�y this reproof, the Governcn:-Gener1;1,l pulled from his. . ... poc·ket ii. b'unch of keys and tossed them at GrimaldL· · Wesley's biographers, Coke and '.Moore:in th�ir-�g!: jesley"·. intimate·that the Governor .t'orgave his _steward but with reservations that obviate themselves in his words, ."There, vill�in, take rq �eJ�:and , b�have yourself better in'. the futureJ II Th� f.+iriging.of the keys at the wretched culprit ., and the censorous invective ., "There, villain •• ,.-".serve notice that though the cat had vanished, a remorseless grin remained. His.Honor, the .Mr. Og�e�h_or�., ,betrayed t,o ,a;J.l the world that -h� was an ;i,.�oyerished for- . - . giver. indeed. . ··• · . · . · . · . .. · '.· . . .'. .: . In his immortal clas�:fo ., In! �cl;\;� 'and Fall _'sir_ � -� Ernpire ,. Gibbo? ,:,elates how, at the Synod of Florence, the Orthodox Greek -Church or Constantinople lllld the ;Ba.pal Latin Church of Rome. met,. resolv,� issues ,. : embrac,ed, and united. The ·cat disappeared but a sinister cat reinained. Haunting their eCWIM3nical. con gress was th-e· spectral spirft of mutual suspicior;i 'and distrust.· -ir-·Edward Gibbo!l�- who labored thir�een ··tong years _ aver his:. mas·terpie�e, 1nai.be believed, "These signs of friendslµp WE3re perfidious and.fruitless; find the baseless �abric or- the union vanished like a dream." We ·_wonder whether . the present. world ecum-.·· ·. ·, enical movement can; banish the cat-let alone the grin·� · ·· · Shortly after the close· o.fJ(orld War II, old a;I.lies �d former foes drafted a grand new concept--the United Nations; The wrath·ot war was over; national tempers had cooled along·with the cannons and�o�bi:nes. Concessions were the order of the day, particularly for the free nations of allied west. The post-war era of peace on ear�h j. 19,ng � �eam, seemed about to.materialize into blissful reality. The horrors 'of global conflict were over; the awful catamount had van ished. But a hopelessly divided Germany ,. mi_litant .World Communism on the march, millions of men enslaved; the.Berlin blockade and Wall, plus a thousand compli cations more emerged like weeds in a rose garden. The sinister grin persisted. The Cold War ensued--a ca'!; of another color--wi1;b,,its .su_bterfuge, vituperation, and intrique. The disappearance of t�e cat had'tailed miserably to remove the grim grin of distrust among �ations. Today, there.is a pitiful lingering of ghostly shadows of substances that lurk.darkly nearby, fantastic spectres that threaten to return with far greater feline fury than ever before. Next time, the "sharp claws" and "many _:t,eeth11 may be ICBIVi's with cydrogen bomb warheads. If the sinister grin ., that toda.y''hangs like. an inpenetrable:pall · aver · ,the whole wocl.d, portends anything, what e�se might it �? Who, can count the throngs of former inmates of our Federal and State prisons . -18- who,having repented of their wrongs,mended their manners, and "paid" in sweat, sorrow and shame,their ''!febt" tp society and who now desire to "go straight" and live above reproacp.? �r.fso pay:i,_ng the\ d�b� .levied by society,these men_ and women have g,iven thejr all \o ban:t;,sh the .cat they t�emselves created. But rarely if ever does s·o�tyi-ac�owltrdge �-- paid deb'�, as terminal. Suspicion and distrust mark the appalli_ir�rih:--rema4,ni��-. In· our culture,men either cannot or will not forgive and �prge·t. Coh�e'q�4'�tly,the e:it-convict.who aspires to social integ:r,ation and model cit'iz�n{ihip istnonetheleas:& vigtim of the unfairest, the cruelest discrimination and -�ens-cirsh:i.p :imaginabl� :pratft'�cally �verywhere he turns. His past becomes.,a �Qr�dous:�Secr;et_)vhich'h€1,±s. forced) to··hide behind a facade of. pretended past\,.resp�ctabi+f.\y,11 � l�e\h� f:�Qes the ubiquitous dangers resident in exposures. To"·be 11 tbiuid! Gu\1; ·'.oarrie� f.otiihim the frightful potential complications inherent in an unconsti tutionai",·-but n'?netheless existent and practiced,double jeopardy. This haunting peril·lia.ngs,a modern sword Of Domocles by a slender,threatening ,tJ;ire_a!i,of o,hance exposure e'irer about his head. The menace of this gruesome cat ��n may,at any moment, prove his undoing. There·can be no .amnesty among na�ioi:is,no peace in the ·community,no accord between friends, no amor between lovers, and no aura in the home so long as the grins of unforgiveness,fear, distrust,and resentment are allowed to remain- leering,smirking, threatening, on -nearby boughs or walls. A sad but somewhat humorous incident occurred in a Texas restaurant once uPOn a time--perhaps hundreds of times! A waitress named Patsy had pulled a big 'boner' during the breakfast rush hour,and her boss was furious. In his office he gave her a very bad time and the poor girl was humiliated,hurt, and enraged all in one. Concluding his dictatorial harrangue,11 the boss shouted,"Now git out there and take keer of yore counter!I Then noting her darkly-clouded coun tenance,he added,still yelling, "An smile,damn ya'."'-smile!" The unhappy girl wore a mad grin all day l?n�. A. terrible storm had blown across her pathway that morning,and its lingering. ghost' ,e�lipsed . ' .the . sunshine of her smile all day. Our world is tee'fning with_ suot(.sad s�ls--their-.lives overshadowed,their personalities bearing the l;,x:utal•:-1?,tamp of leering grins out of, the past, ever_ haunting them. How many men and women·ot"./high vision have' given up their work because of such gloating grimalk�n Ollt of tl)e yesteryears 'tha"t, continues haunting them with its long-lingering grin? ··A· very a:ble and talented· friend of mine gave up his ministry as a result _c,f tfie unbearaple·reproach he· endured because of the disgraceful temper-tantrums of his unpt-incipled and unpredictable wife. He was forced to turn his back upon seven long'. years of sacrifice and hard work in higher education as preparation for his noblest,fondest dreams of a lifetime of service to his fellow man; and in the words of C_oleridge: ·. I He went like one that had been stunned, And was of sense forlorn; A sadder and a \wiser. man, He rose the morrow morn. That fellow never could get rid of his cat--let alone the grin! Yes,many men and women in other noble professions and in the everyday walk of life have surrendered their life-work be�ause of a catamount or its grin,or both. This is sad enough,but the even greater tragedy that soun�s the lowest depths of spirit-squalor is that of a teacher who goes on teaching,a minister who goes on ministering,or a worker who persists in his work after the inspir ation of faith and rapture that prompted dedication to a life of service has seen overwhelming disillusionment and futility,and has fled. The "first love" long last,the vigor of early enthusiasm duly dissii,a-te4,'the grie'ldng aoul td.th "Ichabod" stamped upon it,moves mechanically through its accustomed rounds- its vital force having disappeared-because some sinister grin still leers upon the familiar scene. Haunting,- rem�rse. . less,-19-ubiquitous, .calamitous... ## ,\ j \j J - ....1 I .r\ J\ J J-r ·.· -r. .rJ rr ·. -r r . . JJ\•;u·-rl ·_ . .r J ;z. By . --.. �, -,·· .. r.. , t GOT: soo SUCK� ·Fo� ,A. . . . . HAD A Pl Nk CADI- LL/� . C, - .. SHORT �TOR:< .. BLA1� 1 BLA� BLAH, BL,t\H ... UH, Go,Jk . 25 GRA.t\iO FOR - MOVl� SMOKE ON -YA1 PAL. , . · _P-IGtffS .;. AN'. &AK, BLAH .• ...... • . . ---i ( ! t f - - . G) y : . . . ' G. -, ., ----",$Y- - .l,/!-IJ&- .. . .' ··- ~< . ··_., .. . "11 . -�� . . -- , ·tt~4 __·. .. �//,/J ".. . ,, <(i-,~~' - I I/. ("1 ldl \� ..P� 114 y .. :� -..L... �� � - -,, · I t - -; . I ' �.. K ,-. 0 -~ .. L_, . : - \D, ...... / . ,- _. -� 0---- -�� - {;; . I. :..;, � .. " � ~ ~ ·.· ... � }�� . . \ ... · .· .. i � '? � - t�) JC) � -;:; I ~~I.. , · .• ', ··. ,, # ':~' ln~i,9_·,r(: n ·'n ';., c . _., '-- 7....- .:½:~"\ < ~;~} ) ,. V "__.., • • \ ' ' ;:• . •'It,/ ',,,' V \ • ~/ ,, •, · -L-l ✓- ----~;:_Jtl ~ ___ -__ <: - ·1~1 -', -. · ., --. ·. ~--- · -·- ::~~-- .).~ - . • i G -~ r . ._ § ., •·. 1 .. •. , , , , ' 1 ,,_ ~ !,• .1 , , }....,.~ .: _./ I l •• ,' ~ -... ,... • , ~ . ,~ ' • •.•, .. {,{ •,- ,'~•-- , .. J·• •,. -; ·,. • - .'• ;,,;_,_.•. •·.••·•_/).·· ••~\ ;''T ,(· 1 • •'.. ' .. - ' ,.. \ . i: � ' ;:·· ' l,I '. . ,:,r, ... }' .: ·-., ·" ··;�,�:... /\f� .. ··-,,/ .j �f _.,,� .. \ . ,,,,:,. I l :. ;,,I.� i '_ ·,; . _... ~ J ::.~•• : , ·�;- :,.-. • .•• ~ ·• i1·t_ . /.' .. ,; .... -- -·{ '· .- ':·: �--.•__ · ... ,- _/ : ")) /. ' <,.-- ; - . \ ., ..-; ,' ,.., i /,/ : ;. \ - • ... , •• r . d ·- -:-- · '., . ;;· . � .. . � . \-' /)i . .•· •: -- .. ,.,,..,f ... "'; / .._ '" '·, --..., · . .-�;- -- · b: ~ ,- )- .,· -· , -.. .r / - y ...... (· . - • • 0 � "'- •: .' �. I . . .- , I • ' \,. 1 • :./ •' ): ,.. , . ·- ··---- ( . ' r / . �-� ' ; . ·--1...,..') � , �. . '/; ·. • •,t_';!: . ' , ... /·.. ·j .· fA··. .. ·.. _· ..... ' '··· � ',· ' _. : ~ --; .,,· .. : .. . _-· ,._·_; . .· .• . ' ·.. . , ' ·-_, . : ·.. ."1 ( ) ... · � ·•. ��,.__,_, ; . .·. ~,' '. I , . • ' \ .. ,-- . ' . .-,.' : ' - '. __ . : . . _, / .· .. . ;• -. ,, · ( •'. ( • i '. -~. ·, -"'- k r20- · ,) ( · •· ,, , ; '. '.: · · : �: ��:f/ 1 "SayI s he out gathering ideas for a new novel •.• 11 -21- -FIRST PLACE WINNER 211cl ANNUAL VANGUARD LITERARY CONTEST ,.,--- The �� AmAZ nG by Conrad Hansen He stood out on the sidewalk, watching me through the window. I'm used to that, though. Passerbys occasionally stop and seem to be fascinated by my ease and swiftness in painting signs. Aware of his attention, I hammed it up a little. First a few light guidel�es--next, a quick charcoal layout-then I dipped my red sable brush in turquoise···color and made perfect one-stroke letters on the Crescent board. iipl zipl--and the showcard was finished. I swirled the brush around in the water jar, reached for my chamois and gave him a mock bow--�-rah1 He smiled and nodded his appreciation. But instead of walking past, he turned in at the door and stood at my counter--an Ed Wynn-ish type character wearing a cheap, tight-fitting suit. I turned on the ol' Gene Clayton charm. "Yes, sir?" "Say, you certainly1 1 can handle that brush," he said, gazing curiously around mY small shop. 1 How s business?" 11 lVG' amiability dropped about fifty degrees. "Salesman, huh? 11 "Oh, no. His sad eyes traveled over my collection of theatrical posters I had tacked up on the walls. IvtY hopes bounc.ed back up. "In show biz? Need some nice flack posters?" 11 I "Well--no. He hesitated shyly. "I m just a--a bum--" "Hallelujah," I growled, reaching into my pocket. "Here's four-bits, pop. And congratulations. You've just won the Moocher of the Day award." His ruddy face turned a deeper shade of red but he didn't make a move toward the half-dollar. "I'm afraid you don't understand, sir. I--I was only trying to say that I'm a bumbling old man living in the past." He sighed and 11again glanced wistfully up at the pictorial array of stage and screen celebrities. At one time,". he added, puffing up a little, "I was a vaudeville headliner, too." "You don •t 5.ay?" His hand hovered over the silver half-dollar. "Yes, indeed." -22- "Big star, huh?" He now pick_ed up the fifty cent piece. . "I was considered to be one or the greatest prestidigitators of my time, sir." Suddenly he made'the coin leap nimbl� between.his slender fingers--and then caused it to vanish. Just like that! I look�d at him with a little more respect. "Sleight of hand artist, right? Looks like you've still got that ol' touch, too." His age seemed to drop away and he smiled proudly; revealing a missing front tooth. "Then you've heard of me! The Amazing Coyne--King or Coins. That's how I was billed. Oh, those were the glorious days! Thurston, Houdini, Cardini, Blackstone •••• 11 I nodded. "Yeah, t.hose names ring a bell,. alright. You know when I was a kid my ambition was to be a song and dance man. Would you believe it? · IviJiunm.--The Amazine Coyne, huh? Somehow I just can I t seem to recall-�" "Wonderful, !£nderful days!11 he interrupted excitedl.Y,. "Two-a-day at the old · Palace--booked solid every year on the Orpheum circuit--ooast-to coast� Oh, I was 11 · big, I tell you. Really �! -I. I smiled at his enthusiasm. "And now you're retired, I s·uppose. Just laying · back and taking it easy·, right? 11 "Not retired. No, sir. Merely between engagements, as we say.11 He started his exit toward the door. "Thank you kindly for-for listening to an old :brouper': reminiscent chatter. But I mst ·run along. I have an urgent, uh-•appointment.11 I waved him out. 11 0kay. Well, take it easy, pops." ·I watched the "King of Coins" scurry across the street and duck into Sam's Silver Bar to keep his 'appointment' and then I got·back to my work. �'1 studio, as I laughingly call my hole-in-jihe wall, is located on Chicago's north side-- a neighborhood noted for its numerous saloons, strip joints and second rate hotels It's not the best part of the town but the rent is cheap and a good location for a sign shop. The people who live around here seldom get up before noon--character like hustlers (of both sexes), gamblers, night club entertainers, and odd-balls like the old man who'd just left. That night, I mentioned the incident to the wife. "He's a real nice old guy, l-Jorma. A typical broken-down actor. Out or work, down _on his ·luck--." 11 A bum, you n,ean,11 she snapped. 11 S&yj that's a coincidence. accused him of being on�, too.11 I chuckled. 11 But the old rascal was pretty slippery.I He wormed out or it like a champ." 1 1 1 A!!g_ wormed some cash out of you, 1 she said, putting chow on the table. "tell', didn't he?11 11 11 Okay--okay," I said huffily. 11 S o what? 1 1 Move ! 11 she snarled. 11 Huh?11 11 Move your chair over a little, big shot. You I re blocking my view of the tee-vee. Ben Jackson is just coming on. He's supposed to have·a �al'furmy'shot' tonight. And keep your big mouth shut for a change so I can hear his jokes." -23- 11 Television!" I snorted. "That's the main reason that good 01 1 show biz died Did you know that, Norma? Sure, that's why guys like the Amazing Coyne, for exam ple, are now outa work •. · Yeah,. the· movies and lousy television killed off vaude- _. ville, alright. Look," I contj,_nued, gE:itting steamed up, "where·'s your good ol',.Jf.l comics, trained poodle. dogs, soft shoe dancer�, jugglers, seals :that play muE1ical instruments, magicians-" "Oh, shut up and eat your dJnner.,. It.1 s ro�t beef, lDS;Shed potatoes a� peas. 11 "So •I. notice," I- growled. - "Listen, this. old duffer is still good and-- "fil!::h::h-h! The show's on, stupid. Shµt up and eat." "I'm not hungry, Missus Clayton. And why is it that everytime I try to ••••" But, Nor·� wasn It even . listening to me.. . H�il' she: didn It �ven kno� I was in the damn room. Her eyes were iaminated to.the.tee-vee screen and watching a string of commercials that occasionally stopped long enough for Ben Jackson to make brief', unfunny appearances• . I. shoved my. food aside and sl�ed out of the apartmen�•. Listen; .I'.ve go'!i, only one thing to, say in favor of tee-vee: It intro . duced Norma to pre-cooked TV-Dinners. · And now I don.•t,·- have to hang around anymore and dry the dishes. • • • The next morning the "King of Coins" was standing_ i,n front of DG7' shop like he was waiting for me • He was wearing the same ol' shiny suit and hugging a large -manilla env�lope under his.arm ! F:'or kick;Et, f sneaked up .behind him •. 1iBoo!'', I hoilered in his ear. Startled, he spun �ound. "Oh ,. it.•s I2Y• Mister Clayton�" He laughed ner vously. "I--I was waiting for you." . . .''That ti-sures,11 I. s_,µ.d, _putting a keJ into :the lo�k •. "Look, pops-you're a re.al nic� guy and all that, but no handouts today. Savvy?" . He trotted in after me. nBut that's -��t why !tin here:. I've got a booking, Mister .Clayton. An e�gagement!'' · "No kidding?" 11 It 1 s true. But I need your help." .. He dumped tM, envelope on the counter, spilling out a bun�h of glossy eight-by-�n _photos. "See? The·se are publicity stills I use for advertising purposes--displays and such." I picked up a couple and looked them over. They pictured a younger, handsome: man posing in a tux. Very professional and. dignifi�d-like. _Some spewed him with playing cards fanned out and others with coins held between his fingers. In every photo, his teeth (and in those days he had ill of them) were bared in a wide, cmu,ey smile. J; had to ad�t that he cut_q:uite a �lassy figure. In the ,photos. 11 "They look real nice," I said. "But where do I come in ? He leaned forward over the counter and cleared his throat. "Well, when I lef1 here yesterday, I stopped in at Sam's Silver Bar across the street to uh,-make a phone. call and I happened to meet the owner. A very discerning and astute gentle man, incidentally." "Yeah, I know money-hungry Sam," I said impatiently. I was torn between the 1 urge to get to work on a rush sign order or listen to his story. · 11so?1 -24- "So during the course of our conversation, I happened to casually mention my skills in legerdemain and the fact that I was. temporarily at liberty, so to speak. The upshot was that I.convinced him that my conjuring act would definitely attract business into his bar. In short, I was engaged for two weeks starting this comlnr Saturday11 night. And," he added with a conspiratorial wink, "at very generous · terms • 11 Knowing Sam, I could imagaine how 11 generous the terms probably were but I didn't press the issue. I simply said, "I'm really happy for you but-" The old gent· had mis.sed his true calling--he should have been a high-pressure salesman. The wey he poured it onl This was his big opportunity, he· assured me. His chance to get back into his beloved profession once again. But he needed some flashy signs and banners--on the cuff, of course. Would I do it? He'd never for get my kindness, he vowed. It would mean so much to him to be able to again appea 1)8fore the public with his mystifying feats of magic--to enrich the present gener ation with his illusionary powers--to make possible the comeback of The Amazing coyne •... 11 1 I held up my hand in a gesture of defeat. 0kay--I 11 do it, for Crissake! I'll make up all the cruddy signs you need. But just this one time, understand?" He pulled out a soiled hanky and dabbed his shiny forehead. 11 0h, thank you, Mister Clayton! Thank you. I just�� that you wouldn't fail me." He paused and cleared his throat with a slight cough. "Uh--there 1 s just one more thing •.• " 11 I nodded wearily. "Yeah, I know. How much? He held out his hand and I gave him a five dollar bill and all my loose chang, His face ·took on a determined look and his bleary eyes glinted with sincerity. "Rest assured, sir. Every penny will be judiciously expended for much-needed supplies. I'm in desperate need for several decks of magic cards. And," he added 1 as he jingled the loose changeti in his hand, "1 11 use these coins to unlimber and lubricate the digital joints. "See that's all you lubricate," I said, shoeing _him out·. "And be sure you stay outa joints like you know what." 1vhen Saturday night rolled around, I took Norma with me to watch the Amazing Coyne make his tr·iumpi:la.nt comeback in show business. To give hiro a good start, I 1 d gone all out on his. signs: Over ithe entrance to Sam's Silver Bar, I 1 d painted and hung a huge muslin banner painted in vivid colors--"IN PERSON•.• THE AMAZING CoYNE·•••• THE KING OF COINS" and just inside the entrance, I 1d made up a nice easel type display which fer!.. '.l'l'.'ed four of his glossy rhotos. It was lettered in sparkliz metallic paint and read, "NOW APPEARING--NO COVER OR MINIIViUJ,1.II As I led Norma inside Sam t s joint, she was in her usual cheerful and optimisM mood. -11Why do we have to go in this· dump, for goodness sake. 1Specially tonight there 1 s a snappy TV spectacular on right now. And who's this.Amazing Coyne char acter, anyhow? I never heard of him." She shock her head as she read the signs I'd labored over. "Boy, Sam must be losing his marbles." "Why do you say that?" I asked.· "These signs must have cost him a fortune." She turned and looked at me with ·suspicious, narro,ved eyes. "And I know your work ,. Gene. How much did you charge him?" 11 11 11 Never mind, · I said, pushing her inside. "Just you never mind. -25- Sam had. reserved a table for Norma and.me and when he saw us, he waddled over his little pig eyes alit with dollar signs. "Hey-Iey' favorite sign painter and hi lovely wifeJ" He glanced around, mass.aging his hands tog.E3ther. "Such a crowd I'v · · · · never had for a long time.11 You know? Maybe that old windbag knew what he was talking about after all. "Who's that?" I asked innocently. 1 11 1 Why, that· magician guy l hired. Who else.? 11.A 1 s if you didn't know," mu:ttered Norma, shooting me a withering look. "Well c !!1Qll, Sam. Bring us over a couple of drinks. I didn't come here just to listen to you jerk� beat your gums all night." Fat Sam laughed and took off. But he was right about a big_ crowd being there The joint was packed to the rafters. Customers were crowded around the bar two deep--all the tables were occupied--and the microscopic.dance floor was jammed witl couples. A combo made up of three long-haired high-school drop-outs were beating out a tuneless number with their guitar, sax and drums--and the laughing and hollej ing of the half-drunk Saturday night celebran_ts could almos:t be heard over the beautiful. music that Sam was playing on his: cash register. Suddenly DtY sympathy went out for the old man who would soon appear on the small, dirty stage. It sure was a far cry from his former days when lle was a celebrated performer at the plush Palace theater. At eight o i clock the s�called band sounded a fanfare and Sam hoisted his 250 pounds unto the stage. He held the mike in one hand and waved the other arounc for silence. "Ladies and gE3nlemen!" he announced. "Tonight we have a special attraction for you. At itW·expense,1 we have managed ·to engage the famous.:.-the inco�able Amazing Coyne! C mon, folks--give him a big hand!" Since Sam's joint doesn't have a dressing room for performers, Coyne made his entrance from the only logical substitutio n-�the Gent's Room •. He _ looked pretty sharp. His thinning hair was plastered down with grease, he wore a tux that was shiny with ag� but neatly pressed, and his face was set with a nervous smile which displayedI all of his teeth--minus the missing front one. Right off I could. see thE he hadn t been lying about his abilities. He was good. For an opener, he slid rigl into a clever rout,ine of coin-producing; making them disappear, multiply and changt denominations. Then he whipped through a flashy silk handkerchief act, a smooth · set of Eimall illusions, and for a finish he m.ade a deck of cards jump and slide around like crazy. I thought that he,fd done a terrific job and I clapped and whistled rrry appreciation. But the lousy audience didn't feel the same way. They booed him some1ihing awful! It was a terrible thing to witness. When the old man saw that his efforts had gone unappreciated, a Eltunned look came over his face. His body seemed to wilt and sag like a flower deprived of sun and water. His smile turned into a open, gaping wound and his cards and coins sUpped out of his trembling hands and fell to the stage. He shook his head slowly from side to side_in disbelief--then turned and stumbled off the stage. To his 'dressing room.' For a moment I was too shocked to react •.. It was as though his f�ilure and humiliation had somehow been transferred to me. What a rotten way to treat a per so, I thought bitterly. Even Norma felt bad. "Poor old man," she murmured. "What a shame!" -26-' . I. grabbed. her by the arm and pushed a path through the crowd of jeering peopl1 At that moment, all I.wanted to do was to get out; I didn't want to hang around am listen to Sam's wails of anguish and I sure as hell didn't want to face the old magician in hi.a period of disappointment and despair. There wasn't a thing I cotil do for him anyhow. He was .. finished--washed up Norma apparently sensed how low I felt and for once she had the !,rains not .to needle me. Instead, as soon as we got home she opened two cans of beer, got out some potato chips and, naturally, switched on the tee-vee set. NW resistance was so low that I actually watched.it for about half an hour (mostly commercials) and slurped beer. Then the phone rang. 1 It was Sam. "Hey, what d ye think happened?" he yelled into the phone. "I know what happened," I growled. "I was there tonight, remember?" "Naw--I don't tnean the old man's eight o'clock show. I'm talking about the. show he put on later--at twelve o'clock. lVJan--it was a gasser!" I was wide awake now and .. listened as Sam told me the craziest story r•ve ever heard. It seems that after the Amazing Coyne hadn't turned out to.be so amazing as advertised, he finally emerged from the Gent's Room, sat at the bar and tried to wash away his grief with booze. By twelve o'clock· or so, he was feeling more cheerful and as mellow as the bourbon he'd been lapping up. He got hold of Sam and insisted on doing another show--a new, better kind of act. At first, Sam told him to forget it, to get lost. But the old man kept insisting that he wanted another chance and finally Sam gave in. So once again he got up on the stage and introduced theI Amazing Coyne to the audience figuring, I imagine, that at least the old iqan s new act might get a few laughs. But Sam was due for a surprise. When the.old magician faced.the crowd for the second time, he wasn't nervous anymore. The booze had relaxed him and removed his fears. And instead of playing it straight, he jazzed_ up his act and turne.d into a drunk-magician routine. He did his tricks informally and,,spiced with humor-strolling among the patrons at the tables as _he pr_oduced coins and cards from their pockets and generally clownir. all over the joint. It went over with a bang. The customers ate it up, called him back for several encores, and he wound up being a smash hit. I hung up the phone while Sam was still gabbing excitedly. "How do you like that?" I said to Norma who hadn't taken her eyes away from the tee-vee screen all during my conve.rsation with Sam. "He wasn't a flop after all. He wowed 'em!" "Well, goody goody for him," she muttered. "Now dulllicy' up, will you? The la-t late show is just coming on." 11 "I � ,the old codger' had it in ,him, I exulted happily. · "Yeah, I spotted him. for a winner- right off." I walked over to where she sat and waggled my finger I under her nose •. "And now, lvJis·sus Clayton,I I don't mind telling you that. painted all those signs for him for free--I didn t charge hi� one cent. How do· you like ·. that? Know something else? I also gave him over five bucks for supplies. Well?'' "Eugene!" she barked. "Yeah?" "Move!" 11 Huh?" "You're blocking off my view of the screen, you dope." -27- On lhonday morning I headed for nzy- shop. I felt good. The sun was shining, I was looking forward to pick up some juicy checks in the mail and anxious to see the Amazing Coyne and congratulate him on his triumphant comeback into show biz. When I turned the corner, I. happened to glance across the street and at Sam·•s Silver Bar. What I saw made me stop dead in nzy- tracks. The big banner I'd painte and hung over the entrance was missing. So was the fancy lobby display featuring the old man's glossy pies. The only evidence that remained .was a few shreds of th muslin banner that fluttered dismally in the breeze. I hurried over and entered the bar. "Where's Sain?" I asked the bartender. I 11 "Hi, Gene. Sam? Aw, he won t be in till about noon. Wanna beer? I shook nzy- head. "What happened to all those signs I made up for the joint?" I I "Ya mean the ones ballyhooin the ama.zin whatsisname-the magic guy? Aw, Sa1 yanked 'em all down 11 Sunday--yesterday. l�an, was he ever11 mad!" He nudged my hand with his bar rag • Sure you won't have a beer, Gene ? I climbed up on a stool. "Okay--no, wait a minute. Better make it a double shot," I mumbled weakly. "Tell me, what the hell happened, anyhow?" He set the drink in front of me and proceeded to fill me in. It seemed that the old man had been a howling.success with his drunk-magician act on Saturday alright but Sunday.night was a different story. On this day he didn't do quite so good. In fact, he fell flat on his kisser, you might say. Why? Because he got !2Q. loaded-on booze, that's why. He was stoned--bombed--instead of being cheerfull mellow. Result? He passed out in· his 'dressing room t .just before he was -due to go.on Sunday night at eight o'clock. Sam and the colored washroom attendant tried to sober him up with coffee and cold towels but no dice. As a last resort, Sam stuck his finger in the old guy's mouth and--well, he finally sobered up enough to go on. But the old lush just couldn't cut it. He staggered all over the joint, fluffed his tricks, and for a smash finish, knocked over a drink right into the lap of some broad -wearing an expensive evening gown. She screamed to high heav'8ns and maoe Sam fork over twice the amount she'd paid tor the threads. II winced 11at this part of the bartender's story. "What· happened then; ·as if I can t guess? I asked. "Why, Sam blew his stack. What else'l He grabbed the ol'· faker11 and booted'· him out on his tail; that's what he did. Boy, was Sam ever mad•• • y 11 I · polished off m drink and stood up. "Well, I' better shove off and� But the bartender had a few final words. "Ya know something? This old bird hadda good.gimmick, though. The drunk-act, I mean, It could be a sure-fire gim n4ck if he'd worked it right. But he's gotta remember one thing--he hasta just act drunk, feller me? You know, sorta like that night club comic Joe E. Lewis. The guy who alla time just m:etends to be drinking·scotch during his act. But he�? Dig?" Well, I never ran into the Amazing Coyne again. I imagine he'd left Chicago for greener pastures (and greener sign painters) and I forgot all about him. Oh, once in a while he'd come to mind and then I'd get to thinking about the old coot- and remembering how really good he was as a sleight of hand artist--how he strug gled to make a comeback but conked out when the chips were down. No, I guess I never compl,tely forgo� hiJD.,;.�he was a likeable old reascal in spite of his faults. And this was partly because Norma hadn't forgotten how I'd painted all his signs for nothing and gave the old buzzard a few lousy bucks. Yeah, just about the time when I thought the whole indident was closed, she'd bring it up again. Like the night she'd talked me into staying home to watch some crumnzy- tee-vee show ••• -28- "Discovered any new talent lately, big shot?" she asked, her eyes boring into the screen. "Like that broken-down magacian, for example." -· 1 1 1 You just don t have any sensibilities for show biz,"· I replied stiffly. "Don you ever get tired of watching that damn idiot box? Personally, I wish good ol' vaudeville would come back--black-out skits, song and dance men, unicycle acts, Irish tenors, ventriloquists�-" 11 Move !11 she snarled • "Huh?" 1 "Move your chair over a lit.tle, dopey. You re blocking off my view. The Ben Jackson show is coming on next." 1 "That hum? When s he going to retire, anyhow?" 1 11 0h, ·shut up and eat your dinner. It's roast turkey, cranberries-- 1 1 11 You and your phony TV Dinners! 1 1 "Sh-h-h-h! He's getting11 ready to play his violin. Tum-de-dum••• well 1 11 be darned. Eugene--1ook ! It was a new commercial. And there right on the screen was my old friend- the Amazing Coyne! He was costumea. out in a fancy robe and wearing a turban on his head. He looked· about ten years younger, his eyes had a new sparkle, and he was flashing a wide smile--complete with a replacement for the missing front toot! I 11 11 • • • and it s just like finding money , he was saying in a rich voice, "every time you buy the new Sudsy Soap Flakes. 11 While he was spieling his lines, his . fingers were nonchalantly plucking $.ilver coins out of the air. 11 11 Wow! I yipped. "What do you know? "He made i:t, back on the ,big time!U. "Big time?" 1 "Sure--he s on a national coast-to-coast program, ain't he?" I waved my fork at him. "You tell 'em, pops!" The "King of Coins" finished his pitch, looked straight at me-and winked, THE END -29- The books listed below have been received and cataloged since our last column in The V,mgµard. When requesting a particular book be sure to give the comp�ete Call Number. Books may be checked out for a period or two (2) weeks.· The Library is open from 8:00 A.M. until the yard is cleared. DEEP THROUGH THE HEART Anderson, C.W. 798-AN2.3d-1940 THE WORLD OF THE COYOTE \Vormer, Joe 599-W894.lw-1964 TOO LATE THE PHALAROPE Paton, Alan P274-t THE GUIDEPOSTS ANTHOLOOY Peale , Norman 200-P31.3g-1953 AVALANCHE Boyle, Kay B'697a· THE '!RIALS OF A TRANSLATOR·. . . . . Know, Arnold 220.5-K776t-1949 THE IVY TREE · Stewart, Mary STJ.861 AN HONORABLE ESTATE Kauffmann, Lane Kl615h THE VIEW FROM POMPEY'S HEAD Basso, Hamilton B295v GOOD INTENTIONS. Nash, Ogden . 817-Nl75g-19,42 USING OUR LANGUAGE. Patton, David. . 428-P278u-1954 PHYSICAL SCIENCE FOR PROORESS Pella & Wood 500-P.36.3p-1959 NATURE ON Tm: RAMPAGE Sutton, Ann & Ieyron 551-SU87n-1962 COlVEDIES Wilde, Oscar 891.,62-W644c-l93 THE LIVING SEA cou,teau,- Jacqµes�Yves 55i.4-C836L-l963 SUCCESS IN SPELLING . Madden; Richard 428. l-Ivl26.3s-l955 EL CAMINO REAL (Book One) Jarrett, Edith 468.24-J293e-196C SHEPPERD OF THE. SUN Appel, Benjamin 985-AP48s-1961 HELLENIC HISTQaY · Bc:Jtsford, George 9.38;..B658h-l939 IDST IN THE HOOSE LATITUDES . Smith, H. Allen 817-SM58L-l964 THE STORY OF ANIMAt 1.IFE Burton, Maurice 596-M955s-1949-v2 GENERAL DOUGLAS MacARTHUR Miller, Francis 92.3-M61.3g-l942 PERSONAL BUSINESS LAW Schneider, Arnold .347-SCH57p-196.3 THE1 DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS Pepys , Samuel 920-P.398d-n.d. MAN S PAST AND PROORESS Int'l Graphic Society 901-INSm-1961 RAIN FOREST . Brown, Bill 6.34. 9-B812r-196� THE MAN WHO WAS DON QUIXOTE Busoni, Rafaello 928-B966m-1958 RELIGIOUS '!RUTHS DEFINED Smith, Joseph 289 • .3SM61r-1959 MY SISTER AND I Nietsche, Frei�iQh 193-N558m-1951 THE SECOND FORTY YEARS Stieglitz, Edward 618.97-ST52s-194( PERSONAL TYPING Lloyd, Alan 652.3-L775p-1959 MATHEMATICAL REACTIONS Kraitchik, Maurice 79.3.7-K857m-1942 THE GREAT DEBATE Swift, Lindsay, ed. 815-SW55g-1898 JAMES SHCRE 1 S DAUGHTER Benet, Stephen 81.3-B435 j-1934 THE SUNDOivNERS Joscelyn, Archie J??ls ART TODAY Falkner, Ray 700-F27.3a-1949 WHO'S WHO IN AMERICA Marquis REF-920-�G48w-195 CATHERINE THE GREAT Oldenbourg, Zoe 92.3-0Llc-1965 INSIDE ASIA Gunther, John 950-G958i-1942 REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST Proust, lvarcel 843-P947r-1932-v2 THE DISAPPEARENCE Wylie, Philip 808.8J-W977d-1951 TWO TICKETS FOR TANGIER Mason, Van Wyck M381.lt AUTOiv,OTIVE MECHANICS Crouse, William H. 629.28-C884a-1956 CUTLASS EMPIRE 1ason, Van Wyck M38lc YOUNGBLOOD HAWKE Wouk, Herman W915.ly LORD VANITY Shellabarger, Samuel SH5.34L GRIDG SHORTHAND SIMPLIFIED (Manual) Gregg, John Robert 653-G861. lg-l955- - THE ODYSSEY OF THE HUNJAN SOUL Kintzing, Paul 880-K626o-l946 -30- -, r� I " ' rr\\ ;{ THE t . I J \ I I A TRUE STORY ty t�IKF BR,AOLEY PREFACE: It is my intention to give you an accurate and descriptive account of the inprisonment of a convicted felon. I do not intend to argue the point of what the man was inprisoned for, whether he was guilty or innocent, or if there is justice and mercy in our country's courtrooms. I'll leave these matters to those who are more capable than I • ·ivha t I hope to do is to take over where the TV and movies leave off and bring you behind the scenes and reveal what takes place after the trial. This is the story of a naked soul, stripped of the epitome of-man's rights- his freedom. It tells what goes on in his mind, his heart, and the effect it has on him. It is the story of a man crying in the desert. It asks nothing of the reader nor offers a moral. And it is an old story, repeatedly being_ told through countless ages and broken lives. This story will end only when man learns that imprisonment is not the answer or the correction for the tragic flaws in human nature. This is trow· it was ..... The date was November sixteenth, nineteen hundred and sixty-five. The place: Tucson, Arizona. Outside the courthouse it was a beautiful day. The palm trees swayed gently in the morning sun. Inside the air was thick with tension as I stood with great trepidation in front of the judge. For I knew that my life was now in his hands. He looked sternly down at me from his judicial bench. In a loud and stern voice he prounounced sentence on me, "It is the decision of this court that you. be sen tenced to the Arizona State Prison for no less than ten nor more than fifteen years. 11 My first reaction was one of disbelief. I could not accept nor did I want to believe what I had just heard. I looked around and waited for someone to come to my aid--to rectify this terrible situation--but my hopes diminished and died during the pregnant silence that gripped the courtroom. Everything seemed to be closing in on me as the shock and gravity of the judge's words took hold of me. I turned back and once more looked up at the judge hoping that he had misread the sentence or perhaps might modify it. But he was busy shuffling papers about, getting ready for the next victim. To him, I no longer existed. -31- I f'elt a band on my shoulder. I swung around and saw that it belonged to a deputy sheriff. With a quick gesture of anger and repulsion I jerked away bating and resenting his impersonal touch or authority. Again hands were l�d on me and I was firmly led out or the courtroom. � lawyer was walking along . beside me and was ti-ying to tell me something but his words were cut off by the clicking of handcuffs as they were cruelly slapped on my wrist. His words of encouragement and hope fell like grains by the W81Side. Hearing I did not com prehend and perceiving I did not believe. I had expected mercy and was given none I wanted very mch to get out and away from this place.• • ·. They brought me back to the county jail where I had been since my arrest two months ago. I changed back into my jail clothes and was returned to the sanctuary of my cell. Something about my appearance must have told the outcome or my day in court for the other inmates did not badger me with l{llestions about what had happened. They must have sensed that I wished to be left alone r or a while. I mental4' thanked them.for this and went back and thre,r nvself on my iron bunk. I do not know how long.I laid there staring numbly at the ceiling. My mind was a void that was lost and spinning in a whirlwind cg nothingness. Sometime later I fell into an exhausted sleep filled with crazy, disconnected dreams. It was late in the afternoon when I awoke. I had a splitting headache and could not summon up enough energy to even sit up. I 181 inert and spiritless. Bob Everett, an acquaintance1 who was awaiting trial for murder, came into·'fiii•cell and.. asked me ·:t:r° 1 d like a ;cup of cof'feee. I acoepted, hoping i;t would ea,!8 my headache. When be;bad finished beating it, I told him about my:sentence. Bob. was genuinely sorry and did his best to· cheer me up. I. really had to admire him. Here lie was-,;on trial for.. his life.. -but ·pt able to muster up the clul,rity to .. , comfoitt another, ·I took courage from thi.a and when supper cam.e· around I managed to eat a little. But I soon became:despondent again and returned to 11W'. cell. I thought, some people can hide their true feelings but I'm not one ot them, . _ I sat down on the edge or '111:1 bunk and suddenly I felt very tired and old. I put ·m, head down in ·m, iland:s and silently wept. And pr-qed. .I' thanked God that my mother':.had not·been in the courtroom today to see my �liation, and I was reminded·that I had yet to write her a letter. I begged Him to give her strength to bear up�er the ·news and to look after her while I was away. Then I stretched out and fell back into a deep and. troubled sleep •. About two o'clock in .the morning I awoke with • start. Apparently I- bad been having a nightmare and .some incident had become so realistic that I was shocked into wakefulness. I lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and recon structed the dream which was about m, trial. All the.�yon:ts had l:leen recorded raithtully except for one important exception: all the main characters wore hideous, gi-otesque masks. I :aaw the hate.fulness or the- :prosecuting attorney as he presented his evidence and slowly and maliciously tore down my character, making me appear to be the very blackest sort of malefactor•- I could feel the eyes of the jury-,as they·studied.me with their cold, pr()feaaional attitude-- n:owthe police officers as they lied and twisted the fa:ots (how different they were· as compared1 to when:they questioned me; took·iq statement, and made1 ·their... promises to halp:I mel)--tha testimonies of the witnesses--my J.awyer s despera� ·attempt to detend:me--the judge sitting comfortably in his big, leather chair and looking down-at me. ·with his beady eyes just visible over-hlra_horn-rimme d . glasses. I dreamed the whole bloody thing right through the suspenseful hours· as I impatiently waited for the jury to deliberate on my guilt or innocence; up to the disappointing,climax· when I neard "Guilty 1n pronwnc!Eld upon;,me. · I !'lipped:'Dl1 cigarette'stub against the·steel wall and rubbed a hand over . my·damp, stubble· of beard. ,I wondered how long at this rate it -would take to drive me insani. I'foroed ftl.Yself to laugh at the thought. Insane? No-they .say the insane d6nt t ;even know where they are. Fifteen yearsJ The enqrmity ot tl;le sentence hit me again-with-incredible seriousness""�! stopped �111 •. Thi ftight . - . -32- of it sunk me in a pool of depair. Just two months in jail had made a nervous wreck out of me. What would several years do to me? I wondered how long I would be locked up in prison-five years? Seven? Ten? I did not know the an swers to these questions. And when I looked back into the past, these periods of time seemed like ages. My mind rolled along this avenue of thought and I was soon counting the possible number of months, weeks, and days ahead of me. I knew that I should try to get a grip on myself but instead of suppre�sing these thoughts I decided to let them run their course for I realized that if I ever expected resignation I must first face facts. I got up and began pacing the floor, unaware that I might disturb my cell partners at this hour of the night. W� restless pacing woke my friend Bob and he got up and sat down on the edge of my bunk. 1 11 "What s bugging you? he asked. I came to a halt.I "Oh11 , I had a bad dream. It woke me and now I can't get back to sleep. I m sorry. He nodded with understanding. "Forg€'t it, Mike. How about 1 a cup pf coffee? lVJS.ybe it will make you feel better. Then you11 might tell me what s bothering you. Sometimes it helps to talk about it. Okay? 11 I 1 I smiled weakly. It s worth a try--and thanks, Bob. 1 While he was getting the coffee I unrolled a long length of toilet paper and fashioned a makeshift 'bomb' for heating1 1 the cold.coffee which Bob had saved from our evening meal. I placed the bomb on the commode's edge, set it afire, and Bob held the aluminum bowl of coffee over the flame until it was heated. We took turns sipping the warmed-over coffee and conversed in hushed tones lest we wakened the others. 1 "Tp.ey 11 probably pull a chain to Florence in the morning," Bob said. "Yeah, they don't want to waste anytime getting me to prison,". I replied, passing him a cigarette. "I'm a dangerous, desperate criminal!" Bob studied me for a moment. "You1 should try11 to get some more sleep. Here," he said, handing me two white pills, 1 take these • 11 "What are they? "Miltown" 11 "What are they for ? 11 11 "Don't ask so many11 q1 uestions," Bob said. Just take them with your coffee. He grinned at me • They 11 calm your nerves • Then maybe both of us can get some sleep." "Not until we've had out little talk, pal." I felt better already. Bob was right--it did help to have someone to talk to. And for the next fifteen minutes or so I related to him all my worries and fears about going to prison. Gradually I became more relaxed and managed to quell the tempest that raged in my mind. The pills started to take effect and I became drowsy. When Bob noticed this he went back to his bunk and left me alone. But just before I dropped back to sleep I resolved to never again burden anyone with my cross but rather to try and lighten the burden of others as Bob had just done for me. my The banging of metal trays1 brought me out of much-needed sleep. The cries of "Chow! Come and get it! 1 told me it was morning and time for breakfast. Then -33- I heard.the rattle of'·met�:L :t,Jr�s. and food containers:" as they were being �ought up frOJn .the elev•toi-:apd·anolaer. day wae_'.�ginning in the' tank.·' The prison,�rs moved about, putting on ttieir ehoe1; d ousing water .. OflC:their faces·, lighting. their rU-st cigarette, mumbling am<>ng.- theinselv6s. I watched them as they shuffle� c into tlle 48.Y. .roGm tor_.tneir 1!19&ls,• tlleir . face& .unshaven· and haggar h Ot �e _jttst rolled over 1it·their bunks, Jnµli,ng the covers over their he&.4�..;.:;hating·the start · of the new, day and ita, cu-eary routin•�"'!pr.ere,ning sleep to. · th§ tasileless�· che:ap rood �hat was ·being lad).� -out ,.rro� buckets� But as I,:hadn•t eaten since the previous mQrni�.I got.up,�d jqined the otbers:tor breakfast. ·Wb&n :r had fin ished I lighted up� first.cig�ette or the day, wond'e:ring hdri going to support this babi t. wheii my .money run ·OU� if the rood in jrisohr:was was aa bad _ as some said it was. . - . . . Bob came over and sat beside me. "How ,d0,.1ou i'eel this morning?11 he asked. n Kinda nervous? 11 "Not so bad," i lied. ·. . "He�e��:take these :'J:?ef�e_ they- call ,you' out," ile'· �id,•;�ing -�- two mOf�. · wpi te pills.· . ; ·· , · _ . , - . , , ·.:· · ·:_ •. · . _,. · · · • - . ·· . : .. ·· I put them in my shirt pocket. "What are you--a walking drllgstor ?" ··· , .' � : 1 L I Bob laughed. II 11'�,- f�ther and' the doctor went to scho�l together� I . . �- . . . .�)J.: t: tb.an@d. hi� a,;;d. �t talked, ; ta.king '.UP wher� ,we1 d letc:;c,tf:d�frig the ear� morning hours. · Soon my feeilng ·of .depression .left me somewkt and I asked· }u.m �ow he to keep. caa and .rational· despita his •taci:'ng the ser�ous charge. ma.n�ecf · or milrder. · ' · · 11You 1 ve got to keep busy and don't let yourself brood about things too much,11 he answer�d quietly�.. "'l'he �st ad.vice- .I can give.· 1ro you i·l:i;:tc,, doleach day as it comes. And more important-:.-try to keep your mind off the free world." 11 11 r• try not t'o forg�t ..� �vice, Bob� li . . . . · Then I .suddenly r,emembe.�ed '.that I had•. not written to my mother·� l got up from the table and went back to my cell�d started to write one of the most · difficult letters I have ever attempted •••• Dear Mom (I began}: It's all over--the trial, the sentencing--and.I1m afraid my youth, too. I was sentenced to prison for no less than ten nor more than fifteen yeai,s. I must now give up everything that is· near and·· dear to me and accept a life that is alien and against nature.... Tllen J; stopped in mid-sent�nce and. ·read. what I ·had written. · I realized that I co,,µd not send a ietter.like this to my -Mom, even if 'it represented iJ\y' true feelings. With my res·o1ution of the night before in mind, I began again. � •• Dear Me>ip.: The -anxiety is eit -l�at -�er. ;Now maybe I: can get some sleep for ·a ch�ge and gain ba�k; the. weight I lost worrying about things.. Probation was · denied me but don •.t. giv:e.·up hope; my lawyer,- intends to appeal the case. �1 was· giveji ten to fifteen 'year.� but this doe:a1 nt. mean Vll •ido.• this much. There is always a chance fcir 'par9le and tl.laii they might coD111Ute�·ntr''sentence. · Even if I must dt> it all, with their I two-for-oneI system If 11 get out ·in half' the time� I'm not bitter about being sent to prison. I feel it must be God's will.. And I 'm sure that He will give � tlle strength to bear up under ; it. ·. -'Actuall.,y , I 11t1 glad.that this has happened now while I'm.still young anci�single rather:than:later -34- in life when I'd have more to lose. I know you'll write often and come to see me when� y0u-. car:i. _ Christmas: is ,eoming, up. soon,-e.nd. r .understand ,•tpat tpe pr��o�ers · , are per'initted .. · ;to, ree.ei ve· ·.pac,kages from h,ome.· , V(ould yoµ, please Jnak.e ,me,"'. one of:.-; your fruit cakes .and :s.end so.me nuts a.nd hard• p�ndy; ----I :4;hi,nk ,l wou�d �ik!3.. that. Please·try to· no-t worry about me •. God..'s.Holy Mother.-will look.after me .• .I'm 1 c.ertain that. I 11 come, out of pr-is on· .a :..more .mature . l;l,nd· wi s�r �an_. 1 . Te 11 Dad and . everyone.. I ·know 11 Hello\'� and �tell�.them·, I, ,!38:n�. my •love •.. Pe:t ).:i:ttle -Tike. Jor,. me-- 1 I m going· t.o· miS}:l,_he'.r• , too". , I promise ·t:o J?r;i:te <:>ften� i ,. 1! Your loving son, ,, • r; t ' . Mike .'; I., .:.. . � � ...... _' . .,. . ·,-: ,.. . ,'1.fter; I _, d.tfir,i:i;s.hed this let:ter I· just had enough time· to get .a cqupl� !!lQre letters off when I heard a key turn in the lock. 11 '"!2�dley ! , � Ivci,chael Bra_d;ley! Bag, a.n'd baggage ! ye1l�d.,.,the •officer in the doorway. • · · ,· -. r , ..,,,. i • • • J.. . ; • "' r. • j .. • ,· ... '..Wej..:j., �his ,is-it, J �hought •. The _chain to prd:son. · I felt a sudden .pang• b .. •,.·.of · f�&r :in tha. pit of., my stomach and JDY heart ·skipped ,a few 'eat.� .• • I w�n-t into · my- cell and. quicl;dy gathered t1.p my: few belohgings--mostly ;old --letters. and:�wri ting material..1 1.J:'1:'.len ;r:. s�allowed the -two _white pills Bob had given·,me·, .thanked· him- . �gain_ a�d, star.tad ou-\...... ,.. ·_r � ... Pown,sti.airs.-I ,ch�nged in.to my- own clqthes and signed_.-a, ;reqeip,t for.tb,e�r.!3.: le-13,se -9f my., propept;y .. The sergeant on -duty at the. desk qou.nt_ed,.- out. rrv: mone;Y-:.- $8.58--and this together with billfold, my I.D., and rings,went into a la�ge, envelope which he turned over to the deputy sheriff who was assigned to transport me• to the penitentiary. I was allpwecl t_o �eep_ my ciga.r,ettes 1 a:nd, matches.• I noticed, that)tber�e· Wf:lre. -f "Sure ., sure," I said, eager for the opportunity to talk1 to_someone.1 "Help yourself," I added, handing him the pack of Pall Malls. •1 11 •join you." He held a match for me. "How much time you bringing?" he asked. "Ten to fifteen." "Gee-they really stuck it to you, huh?'' 't:Yes," I said.· · "I guess they did. · How much did you get?":.• "I have two sentences," he said-, exhaling a cloud of smoke. n1 one to two and a three to four. Running wild." "What does that·mean ?" "It means that they are consectutive," he explained. "I DUSt do one before I can start on the other. 11. '• ·. "Cb, I see," I mumbled, reeling _,.,d lgnna,it. I looked at the girl, then back at him. I ,whispered, "Do you know anything about her?" , · · 11 0 1 · "I don't know her nam ., he said. She s a parole violator, though. I under• stand she cashed a hot check." · 11 11 Howmuch· time is she . doi•· ng ? He gave a short laugh. "Just a year," he said. He ground out his cigarette stub with his foot and resumed his idle look out the window. I sensed that our conversation was.temporarily terminated (maybe he was thinking abou.t his life sentenc�)·and I cltdn•t attempt any more talk, I took a last putt on-JI\Y' ciagarette and threw it on the floor. A W§Ve or new depression swept through me. I thoug)Jt, everybody bas troubles--only some are worse than others •• , -36- I tried to clear my head of unpleasant thoughts by observing the landsoape as we rolled down the highway but everywhere I looked I was struck with grief. We passed a little country store and it made me think of freedom of choice and good home cooking. No more would I pick and choose what I'd like to have for dinner; 1 I'd eat what they gave me and like it or lump it. A billboard read: 1 Real gusto! and it pictured a big, sweatiog mug of beer. The very car I sat in reminded me of the thrill of spinning down a road with the throttle wide open. I thought of all these simple pleasures that I had taken for granted and knew that they would always keep creeping into my conscious mind--to haunt and plague me during the 1ong dreary months of imprisonment that lay ahead. I thought of all the empty and lonely nights I would be spending in a coldly impersonal cell when I would instinctively reach out for love that wasn't there. The idea of incarceration seemed utterly absurd and fruitless to me for I knew that no amount of time, re gardless of how much was said by judges and penologists in its favor, could never make me more determined to live a useful, lawful life than I already M.4,, As we approached a crossing, a Chevvy convertible with two young couples sped past us. To myself I said, the crazy fools have the top down in this rain--the idiots. But as they disappeared from sight around a bend in the road I mentally retracted my statement. Who is the greatest fool, I asked myself, they or I?' There they are-, spinning down a country lane, laughing and thrilling to the rain (just like the carefree kids I saw by the schoolhouse)and enjoying nature and freedom and life. And me? I'm on my way •••to what? To rehabilitation? To punishment?I Or was it revenge?:� •• Whose fault is it, my conscience asked, society s or yours? Deep down in my heart I knew the answer. But· now the pills Bob had given were starting to take effect. I closed my eyes, leaned back in my seat and let the humming of the car's tires on the paveed road lull me to sleep. It seemed that I had barely got to sleep when I felt somebody nudge me. 11We 1 re almost there," said the man on my left. I peered out the window. 11 How long did I sleep? 11 I asked. ''About an hour." The rain had now let up.The sun was shining. Here and there I could see small puddles of water evaporating under the warmth of the sun's rays, giving off gas-like fumes as they ascended. 1 11That 1 s it--up ahead,1 said one of the deputy sheriffs. By straining my eyes I made out a water tank and a smoke stack jutting into the sky.. like two stern, warning fingers. I gazed at them with a feeling of for boding. It won't be long now, I muttered under my breath. Soon we turned off the main highway and headed down a small road and passed a -sign reading, ARIZONA STATE PRISON. To our right was a big field and I could see a group of men dressed in prison garb toiling in the sun. When they saw our car they stopped their work and waved. Then I saw it. The prison. Its gray walls and gun towers looked out of place in this beautiful area--like uncouth intruders in a place of beauty. The stati9n wagon was traveling slower now and we passed a group of small buildings surrounded by a wire fence. Then we drew up in front of a large, im posing building which I imagined was the main administration offices. The driver of our car opened a car door and the girl stepped out, her hands still cuffed in front. I now realized that this was probably the women's prison section--it was obviously newer than the other buildings and constructed almost entirely of glass. The girl walked timidly up its steps, the sheriff opened the door for her, and she disappeared from view. Suddenly I felt sorry for her--even a year could be a very long time. The officer remaining in tliB station wagon with us noticed that the girl had forgotten a pair of shoes. He grabbed them up and ran after her-- -37- leaving JI\YSelf and the other four prisoners alone and unguarded. I made a joking remark to my seat companion to the effect that this was probably our last chance to make an escape. A prisoner across,the aisle overheard me and took JI\Y remark seriously. He launched into a long, involved apeeoh:how bud .such an escape wo,11 be; the dangers, complications, etc. His ridiculous lecture was cut short by the almost immediate return of the shoe-bearing deputy sheriff. He must have been reading our minds. "Well," he said laughing, "I thought that at least three of you guys would be gone when I got back." He laughed again. "How come you didn't run?" Nobody said a word. And nobody joined him in his laughter. He shrugged,his shoulders indifferently and climbed back into his seat. Then· the other officer returned and we drove about three hundred yards , farther, turned int·o a V-shaped driveway, and pulled up in front of a tan stucco building which looked as if it had been erected sometime in the early part of the century •. I turned to rrr:, friend at II\Y left. 1 "If the whole prison is 11 as old and out-dated11 as this building, I sure don t, expect very JJ\UCh," I said. It looks--archaic. He didn't answer. He just shock his head in sorrowful agreement. Rebellion and despair churned restlessly inside of me. Desolation seemed to be reflected in everything I looked at. A murky aura of hopelessness appeared to be hanging over the gray, bleak.buildings and it seemed that its poisonous fumes were enveloping and permeating me with its deadliness. I can not remember a time in my entire life when I had felt so utterly abandoned. Now the car and its cargo of human despair came to a halt. The two officers got out and opened our doors. We all stepped out, our chains making a mournful clang. For a brief moment we five just stood there--our cuffed hands suspended from the steel links--apprehensively waiting for the signal that would remove us from the world of freedom into the unknown. I felt a thin film of moisture form ing on JI\Y upper lip and a wave of weakness ran through my legs, making them trem ble perceptibly. It's all over now, I mused bitterly. After two long, tortuous months of waiting, starving, worrying, praying, cursing, hoping-it's all over but the shouting. And I could hardly repress a crazy urge to do just that. Shout out to the world, to everyone within hearing, "Alright! Alright! Now you've got mef" Go on-lock me up! Take your pound of flesh--punish me. Kill me!· Are you• sat- isfied now? Well--� YOU? 11 Unseen hands pushed us toward a tall iron gate. A grim-faced guard in the tower peered at us then gave a signal to another guard inside the walls.,,, Then like hungry, gaping jaws, the big gate split in the middle and opened its mouth wide as if greedily anticipating a juicy morsel. We shuffled in--our chains creating a discordant mealey of clanking ·noises� Behind our __backs, I could hear the :huge· gate closing with a series of squeaks. Then with a loud clµp_k of finality it closed. It was a very disturbing sound. I can still hear the echo today. It reminds me that I am no longer free. When the jaws of the gate closed they amputated my most precious possession. I will never get it back. Not entirely •••• THE END (of on1y the begfnning) -38- DON KA:\�ONE WOOTt.NO O O O O O O WRITES We stood in the drowsy falling rain sought you through the years Holding tightly to each other in vain. But each faint grasp turned to tears. Each wishing that it wasn't happening Your gayety and laughter But each knowing that it was happening. Never found my outstretched hand; Soft rays of pulsating light movement Vain, in vain I've searched after Swirled past in silk-attired development. The promise. that's given to 1r.an. Your lips were against mine tenderly warm; The things I thought we could do The rain's smell made things seem new-born. All sere and dried up to naught; 11 I 1 1 It all said, Let s begin· now--I m alive. 1 I to explore your wonders 11 But it was only a mocking word, 11 alive• Ran and ran in search of you. Like rushing flood waters against the sun Why did you not stop for me? Each one seeking its own appointed place The others, yes, but not me ••• 11 To await the terrible 11 Line of Base Now you are forever lost The horror, the terror, to be withstood; To my soul's precious desire. And we would face it together but once. The years become sad and long No memories mine to cling. -.39- THE B G /\!�A MARS!-IALL SMITH/ '¥·,,,f "-"'f :,<> Al Dunning paused briefly in his maddening flight f'rom death. He scanned the wide streets which bordered Red Square; at this late hour they ·were all but empty. Darkened office buildings and Byzantine-domed structures cast long, gray shadows which sent shivers of fear up and down his spinal column. Which'one of these murky shadows hid the assassin who was stalking him? Sweat trickled from his armpits and his hand shook as he cupped it over the cigarette he. was cautiously lighting. He took deep gulps of smoke into his exhausted lungs which only served to accelerate his already fiercely beating heart. Like a weary, hunted animal he r�sted briefly as he desperately tried to plan his next move. His mind clicked crazily like an over-taxed computer �pawing out hasty answers which were in turn quickly rejected. Then, as if attempting to reassess the problem, his mind went back to the meeting he had attended less than an hour ago ••• He was seated at a long table with five men. Black masks completely bid their features. No one spoke. Tension and apprehension permeated the room. They seemed to be waiting for someone. Then a door opened and a medium-sized man strode quickly into the small room. For a moment he silently studied the room's occupants but the mask covering his face gave no hint to his reaction. Without a word of greeting he dropped into the vacant chair and drummed his fingers nervously on the table. Al studied him carefully, trying to pierce his masked anonymity-looking for some sign or clue to his identity. But with the exception of the rather common habit of oc casionally rubbing his jaw with a forefinger, Al was just as baffled as ever. This was the leader--the Big Man--and Al would have given anything to know his name. The leader finally spoke. "As you all are aware, this is not our regular night for meeting. But an emergency has arisen that calls for speedy action." He paused as if endeavoring to control his feelings, then he continued in a tight voice, 11 1 have just learned that we h�ve a traitor in this group!" A low murmur of surprise and indignation arose from the listeners. They shifte, uneasily in their seats and threw suspicious, searching glances at their neighbors. Al followed suit, trying hard to remain inconspicuous by his actions. But cold, tight fingers were reaching into the pit of his stomach and twisting his vital organ: into a knot. He felt sick with fear. So it had finally happened. He he.d been found out! The leader held up a hand for complete attention. "Of course,11 this traitor must be immediately eliminated and our usual method will be used. He reached into a pocket and withdrew six envelopes. "Five of these contain blank pieces of paper. The remaining one gives the name of the traitor together with his address, his fav orite haunts, friends, etc. The man who receives this particular envelope will have the honor of acting as executor. Since this is a secret organization, I wish to avoid any publicity. The killing will be done away from this meeting place, the victims's body will be stripped of all identification, and then it will be dropped in the river." -40- The envelopes were then pa:s·sed arcr,.md. Al I s hand shook as he held it, wonder ing if he should open it or not. His1 body began sweat1ng profusely. "Do not open your envelope until you have left this room, 11 the leader said, standing up. "As I said, I do not want the killing done in this vicinity." He glare\ around the room arid Al felt the leader's eyes boring into his own. •i!s this clear? If so, this meeting stands.adjourned. Leave quietly--and let this_be a lesson to every man in this• room!" Al managed to get through the door first. _When·he reached the street he_rippeC: off his mask and began running like hell. • • The shadows in Red Square were now lengthening and night was beginning to spre! its heavy mantle of darkness over the· city. Al shii.tered from the cold. Hii:i'throat was dry and pangs of hunger were setting in. He moistened his parched lips and re alized that if he didn't soon find a place to rest and eat he would most certainly cojµ;apse. Then his unknown assassin would spring· out from the shadow_s and ·:attack him like a wolf pre_ying oh a helpless· lamb. He shuddered and shot quick, cautious looks up and down the street. l 've got to keep running, he reminded himself. But where? And for how long? I can •t go back to my apartment or seek _refuge among any of my friends-everyone ahd every place is being watched. If I could <:inly lay low somewhere for a few days. Then I c_ould effect some sort of disguise and somehow catch a plane back to New York. But where can I go? Then it hit him. Of course! There was one person in Moscow whom he could trus Nihkali Muzik. Nick, as he pref�rred to be called, conducted a small imp.art-export business on the other end of towh. Al.had been introduced to. him by a high--ranking official in the State Department. He wa·s bound to be trustworthy. Also, during their six month acquaintance, Nick had confided to Al his hatred ·or the Cor,nmunist influence being exerted upon him and hinted how grateful he would be if Al would assist him in securing entrance to the Upited States. Well, W-,1sed Al, as he hurried across the city, if Nick will help me out of ray predicament I'll sure as hell see that he gets his wish to "live in the glorious country of America." The Orient-Russo Import-Export Company was housed.in a small, weatherbeaten warehouse in a shabby, desolate section of the city. Al ducked into the darkened doorway, glanced �1rtively over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't followed, and rapped insistently on the office door. Soon hf;l heard approaching f ootstf;!ps and then the door was opened a few inches. · Nick peered out at Al with a puzzled· expression o his face and .then swung the door wide open. "Well, well--is my good friend t.he American, 11 he said jovially. "Come in, come inl" Al stepped quickly into the small office, closing the do9r behind him. A deep sense of relfof and happiness swept over him. At last he was safe-:..at least for a_ while. And for the first time that evening he felt secure and protec�ed. ,He shook Nick's hand warmly and gratefully accepted. . the glass qf vodka that w�s shoved,into his hand. "God, it's good to see you, Nick," said Al. "I--I'm in a terrible jam and I need your help.11 Nick spread his arms out in a gesture of friendliness. "But of course, rcy good friend. Anything--anything you ask. Just name it.11 He paused and smiled shyly. "And it is possible that if I help you might· do Nick a good turn, eh?" ' He winked at Al conspiratorially. · 1 Al grinned widely. 11You 1 re practically in the United States right now; pal, 1 hf' said. "You get me out of this mess and you1 ve got rcy solemn word on that • 11 -41- Nick laughed happily. "Oh, is good newsl Here-have some more vodka. Drink and rest, my good friend. Now I am so glad you ·hav� come to see poor Nick. And please tell me how I can help. Yes ?11 Al sank gratefully·in a chair and told Nick everything. How he'd come to Russia about .six months ago on a special assignment for the Ney York � in his capacity as a reporter. His assignment: To write a series of expose-articles on the Communist Party. He explained how he'd managed to infiltrate a cell composed of U.S. State Department and Embassy employees who were in the pay of the U.S,S.R. These membe.rs .were all Americans and supposedly trusted and loyal persons who, :Vor reasons of money or political beliefs� had switched their allegiance. In order to protect one another in their jobs, taslts wn, worn durine metstngs. Al pointed out to Nick that if hadn't been found out, he. soon would have learned every man's true identity--especially the leader--whom Al felt held a very high position with the U .s. Government. ·. · · · "Can you .imagine the repercussions that would take place in Washington when my articles appeared?" asked Al. "Just t_biJl}c.-...our world policies and the whole. rotten mess in Viet Nam were probably the work of men like these! Nick shook his head dolefully. "Is hard to believe that this is so," he said gravely. "Is awful! And riow you have been found out by these dangerous men. Is bad, my friend. They will surely kill you when you are discovered. Is this not so?" Al shifted nervously in hi,s chair. His weariness was now peing replaced by fear and doubts. Nick was right. �ybe he shouldn't have come here. And if Nick was caugl}t-�.aiding Al, then his life was also in danger. What a fool he'd been to get mixed up in the filthy mess. in the first place. And for what? A lousy news assignment! · Nick walked over and patted his arm. "But don't look so worried, my friend. I will help you." He smiled. "But you_ will feel better · if you perhaps had a gun. Is that not so?" Al nodded. "Yes. I would appreciate that, Nick. Then I.think it might be wise if I left. I don't wish to get you. involved in my troubles.11 Nick walked over to a·desk· and withdrew a pistoi. "Here," he said, balancing it in his hand, "is a gun one can rely on. It is my personal weapon--fully loaded and ready to destroy ... But I don't think it would be good for you to leave." · Al got up from his chair and extended his hand for the gun. "I'll never forge this, Nick." 1 "I'm sure you won 't, 1 said Nick in perfect English, his phony Russian. accent now missing• . He stepped back a pace, still retaining his hold on the gun. He smiled maliciously, rubbing his jaw meditatively with a forefinger. "Where do you want it, you nosey bastard? In the guts which you seem to have plenty to spare or in that ugly face of yours?" Al neve·r got a chance to indicate his choice. -THEE� Autho;t:'s note : . 11 An autopsy revealed that Nick had decided to shoot Al in his ugly face." This explains the reason Al ''never got a chance to indicate his choice,!! It is a well known fact that it's damn difficult to talk when hot slugs are ripping int your jaw and scattering teeth around the ro9m like popcorn ••• -42- (SPECIAL �'EWS ITEM) I T'S f\JOW TO TREAT CONVICTS WITH FAIRNESS Eight young inmates of the Federal 'Prison labor' or 'convict labor' ca: Prison Camp north of Florence leave their ries with it the idea of peonage, wher, quarters fi�e mornings a week and are by men are forced to work at substanda: driven to various jobs in the. Florenee wages-or at no wages at all. community. EmployJJ18nt in th:LS.:.progra�·is not ap;: After a normal day's work they are re proved at wages below the prevailing ra�· turned to the camp for confinement. for the area, and it would obviously df feat the program to place men on work rE They are part of a group of some 15 lease who are not anzious for the chancE camp inmates who, •under the work-release program, are allowed to work at daytime After a work program for an inmate hi jobs in communities near their institu been approved the first consideration j tions. that he ha:s the same employer-employE relationship with his boss as any othE Three men are working at trades in Me employee. As far as his employers a1 sa; another is employed at Coolidge and concerned, they have no special duties� several are picking grapefruit at Higley. connection with hiring someone under t1 program. No prisoner taking part in the program · has failed to comply with regulations, The worker is outfitted in civili, Otis Arndt, camp s�perintendent said. clothing by the institution, and . h: transportation is arranged. An employ( It was the superintendent's opinion is not a guardian; the inmate still liv, the program is working out satisfactor� ' at the camp, reports directly to work a; ily at the camp. Several inmates who returns directly to the institution aftt were under the program have been released. working hours. others will get an opportunity to partic pate when suitable work is ava:i.lable. · Supt .. Arndt said the Bureau of Priso: believes the participation in this pr, The superintendent emphasized it is gram will result in substantial benefj not the intention of the Bureau Of Pris to the conmnmity� First, as ·employere ons to release men to the community who there is available an expanded work fmrc will require direct supervision, or whose which at times includes skills that a.I presence will be detrimental in any way. hard to find. Employers have full ber. efits of extensive studies made from No one is approved who has been con-., · numbe� of points of view made on the mar victed of a crime of violence · or. who .has they Hill know more about his skills, pc been a member of organiz�d crime. tentials, and drawbacks than they woul about an employee hired in the norma The official said that participating manner� prisoners are stable individuals who have learned and profited from their incarc�r Thil type of program is not new. I ation and who, in the judgment of the is being successfully practiced in state camp staff, are now.ready to assume added throughout the country. When will Arizor.: responsibilities of social living. State Pl'ison put it in effect? (Reprinted in part from � flort!n�e fiemin�, June 2, 1966 issue) -i.3- _,. f rorn d ow ----�,�_!-�; 'I o., --.... 6y . _ _..,,_� ROBERTA BLAIR ·. ': l.'ii+l For the sake of making an interesting' story, we say that this is a hypothetical episOde. .•·,._ During the late twenties and early. thirties, especially during prohibition, many families were starving, without clothing, some homeless; mostly because the breadwinner, supposedly the father, was a drinker and had more-interest in satisfying his desire for alcohol than taking care of his famizy and the essenI tial things·· of life. As we are all ve,ry much aware that alqohol dulls one s senses, it makes many people mean and evil, have very little respect for their families and less for themse:i,.ves, both appearance and conduct-wise. Therefore, n,eedless to say, the reputation of the family, due to this person's conduct, was definitely at the lowest, As we all know, reputation is much easier de stroyed than restored. Since this is supposed to be a hypothetical story, I shall'.'continue as the events should follow immediately thereafter, The father who seemed to have this disease we call alcoholism was very badly injured in World War I, walked •ith crutches and finally graduated to canes in later years, was unable to work with the exception of a small amount of work in the garden. His only income was a very small government pension check ($37.50) to support his wife and three small children. The small farm on which they lived, had a couple of cows, a few chickens, several pigs, wood to burn for warmth and cooking; a garden for veget be ables to canned for winter food and an orchard bearing fruit which1 was also canned or dried. So you might say to yourself ,IIWell, they weren t in such a sad state for depression days." vVell, maybe. so. But there were clothes to buy, school things to buy, and a few staples that you can't raise on a small farm such as flour, sugar, coffee, spices, etc, needed for a balanced diet for children who are growing. But since Uncle Sam is very prompt with pension checks.and gets them to the recipient on • the first of every month, the essential things were quite forgotten as the_ de sire for alcohol offset the need for household items. So off to the nearest town where a gallon (or two) of bootleg whiskey could be purchased went the father--and no one expected him home until Heaven knows when. But one thing was sure: he would be in a very _bad humor and in no position to walk, crawl or drive, for that matter. There were many times when the family of children, as small as they were, had to help himI to the house when he did arrive but dared not say a word to him 'pro or con for fear of getting the "All Mighty Thunder" beaten out of them. Usually this was the case. Other times he would come 4riving home like a maniac in a new car, which the family needed like another hole in1 the head. One couldn't eat the ·car or wear it but an alcoholic's mind 1 poesn t think of material things but runs in strange circles. The family dareli t -44- 11 11 11 11 say H This went ori' for many years from· the late twenties up to about J9.3? with no rebellion from the mother since she evidently loved the father.· . But, one time things changed. The usual monthly check c�; the US!,lal trip for alcoh�l, the usual 1s1:,aggeripg'�ome' trip·and we mu.st- say. he was "pleasantly plastered", and: in an excep'tionally evil aria_·tnean mood. But, the mother and three children greet ed him at the "dt:>or with bags packed and waiting for his return of the car. _ Wllen asked where she inteneded to go� she replied, very curtly: "I don't know but we are going someplace where me and the three children can at least have;·peace o_r mind,,can ha-v,e -our health and be sure of decent f'ood.11 :. ·'•• . ' �:•.' ·:··:'.••l.r::- '. A,·•p:_- .. ,,,� ��>:' t :· ... , ·.)'·�·' .. . :_ Tne' tathei:-:.knev1. tha.t'this time she ·wa_s not joking. He sat down and ,cri�d' like a baby, his only comment being, 11 Mother,if you1 11" stay I 111 rtev�r take · II · anQther_ dtixi� This is an old expression-usually h'ea.rd..;-but meant it. From that day on until the q_ay he �ied in _1960, ''.May God res1;i hishe soul", he .. never �ook ;���he;: .. " 1 - drink. �t''i�)-'f:.�J i::�(�•.1. -··•=·/l- ; . .... _ · .��, : _ , ••-- �-- -_ •_ .... , -'-·· . ,., : _- _ _.. ·:.t•. :. ,�·:..1 '!he 1:1ora¼,_,2t �he. Qt�q,: :j:n 19�� he was eilected �t�t� ., :r�pr��entative Jt:Q�.. �:., , . his district,·· Shortl.y··tlie'reai'ter, through a friend, he oOU.ght a 3'50,.;,room hote-1-- · ·· the largest hotel in a neighboring city. With the :help of his family, mostly his wife and eld�st daug�te_r,. the .. hotel was a terrific success. �ing thi_s .. t�ll)e . h8 was appoin'be'd Chjirnian"or ;.the ·Board of P.sifdons··and Paroles;·'the job 'he held.� ··•· : for many years. After hfs' retirement fron(thfs position, he was elected mayor of his home town--was qne of .the directors of the bank ( the only �e :J,.n, 1;0'."P,_)-�,.. as Commander .·:ot·7the' Jfmerican:Legfo'ri. '..A:t the time 'hfei. death he was. Cotlnty. --� w ;•or'. Service Officer for the American Legion to 'heip. veterans I widows and orphans with pensions and su�sist.ence in time of ne�d. •·, ... J.'},°:I_'':;,•;� 1 d"• ,: ; · ,,,... i).' ,. .. , .... .,, . . ..'l , , ,'. , . ,, . �:J .•.�:···:�- l . ' "', \.! f He never ·ser"V'e( . time in•prisbn . bt.tt :·cou'.id'have rcir some of the things he did. But the point of the _tl}is story a,nq the one I want to emphasize. is- this: We CAA all bc,dnc�::1:,ac)t' ff- otir'ldet�riiftnai1fon':f,s ·strdng'.-�noug�'a'rid with: the· 'hel�� oi'.th:iti. Almighty. • .;, .. :· . : ·. '· . i :c 1 I hope I -�Ve: gottert·�,. poi� :abros·s t'o �lXY1Vho ;read .. tlifs..::.;as -�this·'is''.it� --� U, · from being hypothetical. This is a true story:: · This tnan was my father. ## .. ,-- ... j ·-.1· �: ... : i :.;s��� .:: t�Si L . - . ' .. .'· '. s. ... l . '\ :0 : ...... -.... \. .. ,;.;.' -45- @_7{?@ f)J@.@ ? I I? • • iJ@ al!u@!J@ r:}l1@fl&J1J' ? " As the French nevellst Ho::iore de Balzac said, "Words anlmata s.nd clothe ideas." In thi& test, check the word o;.• phrase you heliev� in naa.r:}.S_i l-A mon!n,g to the key w9r:l. Answers are· on bot•;;om or next "9[lge. (1) nutrie� (nu"tri ent)-·---As vigor. B: that which nourishes. C: hu.nger. D: dul:.ness. (2) �J&.v4n;t (rel' e vant)---A:· J)!!rtinent. B: clear. C: freed from· burden� D: uplifted. 1 (3) contr�m (ken trTv d1--A: attempted. B: opposed. �-c: improvised� D: pen'i.tent. V (4) �est! (the'sis)------A: promise. B: novf'.ll. C: bright saying. D: proposition put forth by l;U'gJ.lll8nt. (5) gyandar_z (kviron'da ri.)----A: wandering. B: perplexity. C: mistak�, D: argti1Jl9nt. (6) 9:!� (dul' set)------.U: pleasing to the ear. B: agreeable in manner. C: ovarsweet to the taste. D: quavering. (7) precarious (pre mrli ris)A: nervous. B: studiously.careful. C: u.npleasant'•. D: dangerous. · · (8) teml�t (ren'dAr)------A: to take back. B: rip apart. C: give. • D: suffer. (9) picB.Ylllle (pik � yoon')---A: or little value. B: absurd. C: decei tf'ul. D: romantic. (10) J.i,;t,ation (li ba'shun)---A: sumptious meal. B: prayer. C: drink-offering. D: ba-t:.h. (11) guileless {gile'less)---A: sluggish. B: innocent. C: weak. D: clave� and crafty. (12) (un er'ing)----A: vague. I; uncertain. C: strong. Di accurate .. unerring ' , {continued on next page) -46- . V - ., ,_'. . • (1.3) disabu� (dis a buzJ------A:to· illtreat. B: rid of a false impr�ssion. C: dis.continue� D: treat ( "" - I (14) aJ2l2easemeot a pez ment ) ------A: graciousness. .B: procastination. C: act of pacifying. D: generosity; .. I" (15) deleterious (del e ter i us)---A: hurtful. B: disgraceful. C: eliminating. D: despairing. (16) vouchsafe (vouch safe�------A: to confess. B: swear to. C: prophesy. D: grant. (17) m:epondera� (pre pon'der ans)A: extreme seriousness. B: superiority of weight or influence. C: pomposity. D: clumsiness. (18) � (v�n"um)------���---A: strength. B:jealousy. C: malice. D: distrust. (19) beholden (be hol_/d'n)------A: seized and kept. B: indebted. C: looked ·· at. D: valued highly • ...... ,, - (20) edification (ed i fi ka/shun)--A: promotion to higher office. B:enterte.inmen C� act of complimenting. D:instruction or enlightenment. ------��------�------ANSWERS: (1)--B (2)--A (3)--C (4)--D (5)--B (6)-A (7)-D (8)--C (9)--A (10)--C (11)--B (12)--D (13)--B (14)--C (15)--A (16)--D i • (17)-B (18)--C (19)--B (20)--D Vocabular_z Rat�: 20-19 correct •••••••••excellent 18-16 correct ••••••••••••••good 15-13 correct ••••••••••••••fair HE-Y/ (T oosrs ONLY • IO{!- TD 5GND THE "Vt\NG-UARD'' OUT f -47- TWO FAT GE ESE • WALTER H. \VIEN Attorney Basil Sharpe stood on the sidewalk in front of the bu.idling where his .flaw office was. located. His mind seethed with conflict between duty to a client and personal desire. He had a brief to write up this morning and the chore was highly distasteful. The fresh, clean air of Spring had a stronger allure by far; he was sorely �empted to remain outside to enjoy the·warm sun instead of going upstairs and to work. · Then his attention was directed to a young woman hurrying his way. Even at a distance her recognized her as Margery McCall, the twenty year old adopted niece of his latest client; the man for whom the brief was to be written. Marg attended the same church as did he and his wife, so he know her rather well and admired her. But now he had no relish for any conv1:i;rsatio:n·with;her beoauae·the brief:.:that waited .to be written was closely related to her. Basil was definitely against some forms of • strife and this was one of them. Now, as Marg drew nearer, he plainly·discerned the lines of strain on her nor mally happy countenance as she tripped·along,11 nodding her shapely blonde head oc casionally while saying brief "Good mornings to fellow-townsmen as she passed them by instead of stopping for informal, friendly chats as was her usual way. They, in turn, gazed after her in wonder at her strange behavior, little knowing that this day Marg was making history. 1 1 "Top of the morning to you, Marg! I 11 make a bet that I know why you re here instead of going peaceably about your housework this lovely day, 11 he said with a tight little smile as he politely· took her by the arm and guided her to the stair way .leading up to his second-floor office. Giving him a smile of gratitude, she pleadingly asked as they ascended the nar row stairway, KOh, how could he be so foolish as to sue Uncle Andy Anderson for no a more reason than he has? Why,11 they've been like brothers for almost forty years. It has me frantic with worry! The big, dark-headed lawyer quietly nodded as he unlocked his door and ushered his petite young caller to a chair beside his desk. He sat down ln his large swivel arm chair behind a cluttered desk and commented, "Y1;3s, I can see that. But, believe me girl, it's nothing for you to become so upset over.1 I had quite a laugh with the wife last night in telling her of little Jack Dever s visit to me yesterday to sue Andy for defamation of character. Why Marg, the whole idea is so ridiculous that it's actually funny. But I would only have angered him even more by being honest with him and telling him so in those words. However, I did hedge a bit trying to dissuade him but he sat there tugging at those long, grizzled mustaches of his and getting1 more ferocious by the minute until I finally agreed to take his case. Now I m wondering how the affair might be resolved without going to court." -48- 11It 1 m simply awful! Isn't there some way to stop it before it g'?8s any further': The girl was truly desperate. Th�··lawyer eyed he:r compasstona tely and shrugged. ;. I.e°tts f4ce it� little lady they.are grown men and will do as they please come hell or high water, 'ijley're botl too contrary to do otherwise. When they've had their day in court, hurling insults at each.other, they'll simmer down and be as docile as little lambs-after they've blown all their excess steam. Right?" . otf. r· ,- .- . -· . ., .• , • ·,•�o;--- ·�o, �Jti>Sharpe! 'Please! You don't know.the� as I do •. A court trial wilJ destroy their friendship forever--and I love them both too much for that� Besides, it might lead to real violence between them if it goes that far. I'm terribly afraid!" Sharpe regarded her in somber silence awhii�·and then s�ftly spoke. "Quite sirangely I find myself sharing your anxiety where those old ruffians are concerned. I--" . . . "But they 're not really ruffians!" , l.V..arg spiri tly prompted. "They wear rough range clothes_ and talk mean and, .. orne�y at times but their hearts·are pure gold. I owe everything that I am to the�·for raising me from a five year old orphan without kith or kin. Now it's time I started doing something for them! Don't you see?" He smiled reassuringly as he quietly answered, 11 I see all right. And as· I was . about , to say, Marg; I 1 m going to violate a few rules of ethics between lawyer and client.· I 1 m going to help you _restore peace ,and harmony between those two cantank erous old dears o� yO'tirs· •. Are you willing ·to work with me, even though it may seem that I 1 m acfually letting them have their way?" · Her countenance cleared and a vague smile of relief curved her mobile_ lips. "I'm sorry I sounded off as I did, Mr. Sharpe. 1 1 11" do anything you want zue to if · · · · it will . stop this awful squabbling. n·� 11 111 like·your spirit and loyalty, Ifarg, the lawyer said with a chuckle as he regarded her approvingly. 11And so we 1 re going_ to enter into a. ;tittle conspiracy .. for a worthy cause, I trust--t·o force two· irasciable characters to firmly believe that all lawyers are liars and con-game artists. Does Andy know that Jack pas srugh to take action against him ret?�• · The girl slid to the edge of her seat, her pretty face alight with a.nticipation "No, he doesn 1 t. That's why I came to you so quickly this morning. Fred--that's my· husband--said that you couldn't or wouldn't do anything to stop it but I knew in my heart that you Would, Uncle Andy mov�d out of the little cottage next to our house when he and Jack started wrangling so bad, That was over a week ago. And now he's at the Carmen Hotel. Jack ca:ne straight home from your office last evening, so Andy couldn I t know yet unless Jack talked to someone c;m the wey.'� "All right, Margery," ttie laner said with a slnile, "when you leave here, go straight to the hotel and tell Andy about it--but say nothing 1:1t all about your visit here to talk to me. Act as b:urt and bewildered as you ca.n wijile talking to him and urge him to see me quickly. The sooner the better.. Think you can do that convinc- ingly?11 . . ·· 11 0h, yes. Sure. And what are you going to do then--take his side of the case, too?" She laughed then--a happy, tittering laugh of suppressed excitement coupled with an air of relief • .. ''N<>, hardly that!" He joined in her mirth. "Even I would hesitate to go that far. To be perfect1..y truthful, I haven't as yet formu:!.a-t.;ed·any definite plan. But that will develop as I go along. Now we had best get a move on, don't you agree?" -49- .. ":C �ure-·do�" She quickly stood up with hand extended. 11Jus.t send me the bill • for yO'llI' '·ttouble when this is all over with 11 11 No fee for t}4s., Marg,') he, said, grinning. "That would be inup.oral. Let's. just ,chalk it up to friendship. ··;And when this ie all finished we can enjoy a real good laugh together. It 1 s a pleasure· tp do something only for the laughs. 11 ·. ... -. After she had gone tripping down the stairs, he ope1;1ed the window ove� �� !'. .: . •• sidewalk and stood breathing in the Spring-scented air while thinking through his forthcomi�g course of acti�; thankful.now that writing .�lie hated.br�ef was �o remote. A· sardonic smile tjigged at his lips as he. c�nsidered his_ unorthOdox,prac- tice of law.· • Thereafter, he sat down again and busily· wrote f'or.. some.. little while,. .1mtiL.hea ing hea'V1- footsteps outside his office door, �t alE:1rte4_ him to expect anothe+,: " · caller. ,1 Basil stood up as the door opened and old Andy Anderson rushed in with grim resulution etched on his weather-beaten face. Fierce anger marked every gesture as he seemingly strove to conceal his outraged st.atf of mind; .. The tall, balding �man came to an abrupt halt before the lawyer's desk anq ·wru,ng the. extended hand -of :t.he latter while giving vo:ice to his ire. · · · · · · "Lawyer Sharpe! I'm a peace lovin 1 man myself but ..JitY old _podner Jack Devers aims to start trouble by suin" me. I hear that he calls it �amtion ot·character and slander! Why, hell! That runt ain I t got no more character than a chicken- killin I skunk! By God, I 111 prove he ain •t, too. . But I need a 'laWYer to help me •. How 'bout sidin 1 · in with me? · We 1 11 sue. him for every damn·.thing he I s got!-" 11Sit down, sir," the attorney courteously invited as he waved his guest into the chair ·beside his desk. He ra&UDIBd his own seat and continued, "Yes, you .. assuredly do need a lawyer, Mr. Anderson. Your erstwhile· partner was up her�_yes terday afternoon and I daresay he was every bit as complimentary in his remarks as you. In fact, his language was even more vividly profane that,your••• I-was astounded, sir, and quite c�riecf away by the pure artistry or his use of four- 11 letter word� in his ,--ah, equally tender thoughts of you. . . • In open-mouthed wonder Andy started to arise from his chair, but the lawyer instantly cautioned, 11 Just a moment, sir.11 He motioned for him to remain seated while smiling kindly on the older man. 11 1 would �eli prefer serving you in·the · matter but your former friend has already retained me .to enter suit against you. So I cannot serve two masters, as it were. Therefore I heartily recommend that you consult with Attorney Mart Conboy across the street. He is the o�ly other lawyer available but quite a capable one, as it so happens·. Wait just a monent .and I' 11 give you a note of introduction to him,"• · Then, while old Andy wordlessly fidgeted in silence and waited, Sharpe quickly composed a brief note on a sheet of his letter-headed stationery. He carefully folded it and inserted it in an envelope with the flap. left unsealed •. ,, 1 "Here you are, sir, 1 he said with a smile, handing the note to his visitor. Then he added in a friendly, conversational tone of voice, "Two monied men like yourself and Mr. Devers with legal gladiators such as Mart and myself siding you, should be able to give the courthouse loafers and sensation-seekers· quite· an inter- esting show. Don't you think?" Andy slowly arose from his chair with his simple, straightforward mind in a confused whirl as a result of the lawyer's conciliatory manner and revealing· words. 1 11 Yeah--sure, Lawyer Sharpe. I'm much obliged--even if you can t handle piy .. case,'1 was all he could croak as he turned and headed £:or the door with the enveloped·.Jlote clutched in his gnarled, work-worn hand. -50- Basil quickly shoved himself away from the desk and rushed to the open window to observe the older man as he emerged onto the sidewalk directly below. Out on the sidewalk Andy's curiosity concerning the note's contents got the better of him. His long gin�ers fumblingly exttacted the folded sheet from the en velope and spread it wide to gaze upon the neatly written script. But after a long puzzled look he shook his head in despair. Poor Andy had· never:.·learned to read. "Hey, podnerl" he said, accosting a passing11 townsman. "Will you kindly read this to me? I--I ain:!t got my specs with me. .. The11 man'sI eyes quickly scanned the sheet. Then a broad grin spread over his • face. He s pulling your leg, old timer. Just listen to this! 11 He proceeded to • read what Basil Sharpe had written • Andy let out an explosive1 squall that sounded like an enraged puma. "No-o-o, by God! They ain't agoin to do it! Not by a damn sight, they ain't!" And with that he snatched the note from the other's hand and strode wrathfully away--but not to Mart Conboy's law office across the narrow street ••• Sharpe turned away from the window and sat weakly down in his chair before a seizure of violent laughter convulsed him with loud guffaws of glee. For the better part of an hour thereafter he tried manfully to work but his thoughts would not coagulate. Finally he gave it up and decided to take the remain der of the day off. Jack, Andy, and IV"iB.rg and their problems were more interesting to think about anyway. He closed the office, descended the stairs, and crossed the street to Niart Conboy's office. He found his friend and fellow-lawyer leaning back in his office chair perusing the sports section of the local newspaper. "Come on, counselor," said Sharpe jovially. "This is Sat'lilrday and I owe you some drinks. let's chase over to the Mother Lode Saloon. I've got a good story to tell you-and a nice cold beer will help in the telling." 11 "Right you are, you old hoss, Mart affably agreed. "But why do you owe me any drinks? I thought it was the other way 'round. I'm not as lucky as you in winning bets." "Mart, I ma.de you an innocent part of/ a little conspiracy today and earned you the undeserved stigma of being a shyster or worse in the eyes of two of Carmen's most distinguished and wealthy senior citizens," Basil smilingl31 confessed. "Whoa, now! Enemi�s, I can do without!" lwart quickly retorted with a grin. "The practice of law in this burg is slow enough without your going out of your way to create ill will. What the devil goes on?" 1 .. 1 You know Andy Anderson and Jack Devers, don't you?" • "Who doesn't? Made a silver strike years ago and invested the money from the mine sale here in town and now they own a third of the town property, so the saying goes. And two crustier old codgers are hard to findl. How did you get involved with them?" "I know this sounds far-fetched," Basil answered with a grin. "Both of us need bigger practices, Ma.rt, but we can't rob the helpless blind--nor can we overlook a good joke now and then either. Jack Devers retained me yesterday to file suit for damages against Andy for allegedl.7 saying vile, derogatory things to and about him in public. The charge w�s of course absurd since neither one ever uses any restraint in talking about the other. They are both notorious for their scandalous··.. toP,gUes· in even ordinary conversation with each other. Before I could draw the brief this -51- morning, Andy came to me also--I suppose to file a counter charge or suit. So I gave him a note of introduction to you in an unsealed envelope, on a gamble that h< would read itI before getting to you.11 He did. And now their feud is over, I hope. Come on, let s go get that beer. 1 1 11 1 You re an old pal! lvlart laughingly accepted as he hoisted his chubby figurt 11 1 onto his feet and reached for his hat. I m anxious 11to hear more of this business and a cold glass of beer will make it more enjoyable. Jack and Andy were just emergirtg--:from-the Mother Lode Saloon with quart bottlE wrapped in brown paper as the lawyers drew near, and with baleful looks on their faces the two old prospectors completely ·ignored the t�o 'shysters' existence. • The lawyers stopped and silently watched as the mismatched pair untethered their pack-laden burros and profanely prodded the lazy, stubborn animals out of • sight. Nia.rt then gave a short, little laugh11 and exclaimed, "Whew! You sure as hell di stir those old vinegaroons up a mite. As they entered the saloon and stood up to the bar, Basil commented, "Getting out of town on a prospecting jaunt is a good thing for them. Staying cooped up her in town is the real cause for this big squabble. !if.en of that breed need to be out doors to comnrune with nature. All in all, they are mighty fine men and real gentl€ men by any honest standard. Tonight they will celebrate for old time's sake out under the stars with coyotes and hoot :owls for company. They will be happy,11 judgin from the amount of spirits they carried out of here a little while ago. 11 1 that you ve made us 1 a couple of enemies, counselor, you can at least tel] Now 1 me what you put in that note, Mart loudly asserted as the bartender joined them • with glasses and cold bottles of beer. 1 1 11 Just a moment, Wir. Conboy, the bartender interjected. "The two old-timers who just left here were giving both of you gents plenty of hell. Here's the note. They left it to prove to all what conniving crooks you really are. This is a classic piece of work that's worthy of being framed and preserved for posterity.11 Your reputations and fame is assured, gentlemen! The drinks are on the house! Others then drew near as Mart cleared his orator's voice and read aloud: 11 Dear Mart: This is to introduce Mr. Andy Anderson, the bearer. He wishes you to represent him in a litigation which I am about initiate against him in behalf of my client, Mr. Jack Devers. 1 Two fat geese. You pluck one and 1 11 pluck the other. .. Yours for good hunting, • 11 Basil Gales of laughter burst forth from the assembled11 men as he finished reading.11 And then Basil raised a hand for quiet. "Gentlemen, he laughingly pleaded, a young lady who very highly regards those esteemed renegades of ours, set them up to be knocked over-so I was really more her attorney than either of them. Let's all drink to the little lady's future health and happiness. May she never have to resort to such tactics again to preserve her happy home. 11 THE END -52- lfi1 i mlt1i 1�.ii 11l\1i�� i1�� [1f 111'f 20247682 _8 _ FROM Box B Florence, Ariz. 85232 • _.�&�+:bt ; / ...... I \ ' ' ) , l�� �-::-· TO ✓7-0/1./,4 #12 d74r� &L-UEa-e ... " @:tiG-sr� �7-.. THE VANGUARD LITERARY QUARTERLY