Part 67 (2/2)

”How do you happen here, Dan? Could you get no work at home, in Oil City?”

”Home, hell! I wish I had a home and friends, like you, Aleck Christ, d'you think I'd ever turn another trick? But I got no home and no friends Mother died before I caot a job in Oil City, but the bulls tipped me off for an ex-con, and I beat , Aleck, but where's a fellow to turn? I haven't a cent and not a friend in the world”

Poor Dan! I feel powerless to help him, even with advice Without friends or money, his ”liberty” is a hollow , healthy young lary, and was sent to prison Now he is out, his body weakened, his spirit broken; he is less capable than ever to survive in the struggle

What is he to do but commit another crime and be returned to prison?

Even I, with so , with kind comrades and helpful friends, I can find no place in this world of the outside I have been torn out, and I see looks so different, changed And yet I feel a great hunger for life I could enjoy the sunshi+ne, the open, and freedom of action I could make my life and my prison experience useful to the world But I ale I do not fit in anylife, the turonize me Perhaps it would be best for me to retire to the country, and there lead a simple life, close to nature

VIII

The sureat peace is in the woods The Hudson River shi+mmers in the distance, a solitary sail on its broad bosom The Palisades on the opposite side look irayish-blue horizon

Puffs of smoke rise from the valley Here, too, has penetrated the restless spirit Thebreaks in upon the silence The greedy hand ofthe Palisades, as it has desecrated the race But the big river flows quietly, and the sailboat glides serenely on the waters It skips over the foareat, busy city Now it is floating past the high towers, with their forbidding aspect It is Sing Sing prison

Men groan and suffer there, and are tortured in the dungeon And I--I a, an idler, while others toil; and I keep mute, while others suffer

My s with the cry of pain; the woods echo the agony of the dungeon I start at the murmur of the leaves; the trees with their outstretched aruards on the prison walls Their ht I wake in cold terror The agonized cry of Crazy S thud of the riot clubs on the prisoner's head The solitude is harroith the memory of the prison; it haunts me with the horrors of the basket cell Away, I must away, to seek relief amidst the people!

Back in the city, I face the problenaws me The hospitality of my friends is boundless, but I cannot continue as the beneficiary of their generosity I had declined the ift presented to me on my release by the comrades: I felt I could not accept even their well- acute I cannot remain idle But what shall I turn to?

I am too weak for factory work I had hoped to secure employment as a coht be engaged as a proof-reader My forraphical Union will enable me to join the ranks of labor

My physical condition, however, precludes the iest the advisability of a short lecture tour: it will bring me in closer contact with the world, and serve to awaken new interest in life The idea appeals towork, useful work I shall voice the cry of the depths, and perhaps the people will listen, and soreat effort I persevere on the tour The strain is exhausting th, and I feel weary and discontented My innate dread of public speaking is aggravated by the necessity of constant association with people The comrades are sympathetic and attentive, but their very care is a source of annoyance I long for solitude and quiet In the midst of people, the old prison instinct of escape possessesthe tour has crossed s have already been arranged in various cities, and race me, and injure the movement, were I to prove myself so irresponsible I owe it to the Cause, and to ht off this h aids my determination Little did I dreaain, even to appear in public there! Looking back over the long years of imprisonment, of persecution and torture, I marvel that I have survived

Surely it was not alone physical capacity to suffer--how often had I touched the threshold of death, and trembled on the brink of insanity and self-destruction! Whatever strength and perseverance I possessed, they alone could not have saved eon, or preserved ie, Ed Sloane, and ”Fighting” Tom; Harry, Russell, Crazy Smithy--how many of my friends have perished there! It was the vision of an ideal, the consciousness that I suffered for a great Cause, that sustained eration of th: I looked upon myself as a representative of a world nity of the ideas it embodied I was not a prisoner, merely; I was an Anarchist in the hands of the enemy; as such, it devolved upon nified The example of the political prisoners in Russia inspired le that was the breath of life

Was it the extreme self-consciousness of the idealist, the power of revolutionary traditions, or si of all three, that shaped my attitude in prison and kept h, I feel the same spirit within me, at the threat of the local authorities to prevent my appearance in the city Some friends seek to persuade me to cancel my lecture there, alar ally I am still a prisoner out on parole I am liable to be returned to the penitentiary, without trial, for the period of ht years and two months--if convicted of a felony before the expiration of my full sentence of twenty-two years

But the menace of the enemy stirs me from apathy, and all my old revolutionary defiance is roused withinthe tour, I feel a vital interest in life, and aer to ascend the platfors h two hours late for the lecture Co forOn the way he inforuards; the audience is in a state of great suspense; the ruone about that the authorities are determined to prevent my appearance

I sense an air of suppressed exciteh the crowded aisle Sonize ”Southside” Johnny, the friendly prison runner ”Aleck, take care,” he warnsis over, the danger past I feel worn and tired with the effort of the evening