Cast the First Stone (45 page)

When Captain Charlie had turned in his count he came down to me and said, “Put on your clothes, Monroe. I’ve got to take you to the hole.”

I nodded. I put on my new shoes and my good Sunday trousers. I’ll show these sons of bitches what I think of them, I thought. When I finished dressing I went down front. Captain Charlie was waiting. I looked at Dido. He smiled slightly. He looked unreal. His eyes looked dazed and slightly disbelieving, as if he had never seen me before. I tried to smile.

“Don’t worry about it until it happens, kid,” I said. “Then I’ll take care of it.” But it didn’t go off right, my voice cracked.

We went downstairs, and through the gate, into the anteroom off the guards room where Captain Charlie turned us over to the gatekeeper to be held until the night captain came around to take us to the hole. The night captain was in the 10&11 cell block and we had to wait. We sat on the wide window ledge, side-by-side.

I turned and looked out of the window at the prison. The fountain in the goldfish pool, which had replaced the alligator pond, caught little slivers of light in the darkness. It looked ethereal and ghostly and unreal. Everything looked unreal.

“It looks like a little city, doesn’t it?” I said. “It looks like a little, lost city.”

“Jimmy,” he said. His voice sounded choked. I turned to look at him. His eyes were pinned on me. They were rapt and awe-struck. “No one has ever taken up for me like this before,” he said. His voice was queer and light and unreal, too. “Why did you do it, Jimmy? I didn’t expect you to and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t. You’ve got so much to lose, but they can’t hurt me.”

“I don’t know why I did it,” I said. “I guess because I wanted to.”

“You don’t know what you’ve done for me,” he said in that queer weightless voice. “You’ve done the one thing necessary to make something out of me.”

“Let’s don’t be dramatic,” I said, trying to smile. “When I get to analyzing it I’ll probably discover that I had a very lousy reason for doing it. Whenever I think I’m doing something noble I always remember—” I broke off and didn’t finish it.

“It’s like seeing something for the first time,” he said, raptly.

The night captain came in to take us to the hole and the gatekeeper gave him our report cards. But Captain Charlie hadn’t put any charge on my report card and the night captain had to go upstairs and have him write a charge down. Then he came down and took us to the hole. I was put in cell number one while Dido was put obliquely across the block in cell number twelve.

All that night he kept up a disjointed, one-sided conversation in that queer, light voice, trying to tell me what I had done for him. There were other convicts in the hole and they yelled for him to shut up. They cursed him but he didn’t care. He was trying to tell me something which I couldn’t altogether understand.

The next morning they took us out separately for trials. Dido went first. As soon as they brought him back and locked him up they took me out. I didn’t get a chance to ask him any questions.

The deputy was holding court. I asked him what my charge was. He said sex perversion. ‘That’s a joke,” I said. “Send for the guard.” I had forgotten that Captain Charlie was off duty by then.

“I don’t need to send for the guard, I don’t need to send for the guard. It’s on the card, and I believe you’re guilty,” he said.

I burnt up. “It doesn’t make any difference what you believe,” I said. “This is a court and only what is proved counts in here. The charge is a goddamned lie and anybody who says it is a goddamned liar. If the convicts who told you all those lies are going to run this institution then why don’t you quit and let them run it?”

“Take him on back,” he said to the hole guard. “Take him on back. Take him on back. I believe he’s guilty.”

“That’s what you believe,” I raved. “But before I take a rap for this I’m going to let everybody in the state know about it. I’m going to take it to the welfare director. I’m going to take it to the governor. Who in the hell—?”

“Take him out, take him out, take him out,” he said.

The hole guard grabbed me by the arm and shoved me back toward the hole.

“That’s all right. That’s all right,” I said. “You won’t get away with it. A whole lot of people are going to hear about this.”

The hole guard pushed me through the door, back into the anteroom where we changed into overalls before they put us in the hole. I struggled with him for a moment but the hole porter came out of the hole to help him and I quit. The big Greek convict named Kish had been the hole porter the last time I had been in the hole but he had gone to the brick yard and a colored convict called Jungle Joe had the job. Jungle Joe winked at me to take it easy so I let the guard march me on back to my cell.

I didn’t call Dido until they had finished taking all the fellows out to court who were going out that morning and had locked up again. Then I asked him, “What was your charge?”

He hesitated for a moment, knowing that everyone in the hole was listening, then said, “S.P. Do you understand that?”

“That was mine, too,” I said. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him if he believed that I didn’t have anything to say.” Then after a moment he asked, “What else could I have said?”

“I blew my top,” I said. “I called everybody a liar and said before I took it lying down I’d take it to the governor’s office. And I will, too.” He didn’t say anything to that. “I’ll be damned if I let them get away with a frame-up like that,” I kept on. “Even if I was guilty, Captain Charlie never saw it. Which I wasn’t,” I added, after a moment.

“We sounds better,” he said. “Do you mind, Jimmy?”

“I stand rebuked,” I said.

“It wasn’t a rebuke,” he said. “It was a request.”

Dido surprised me. He took his punishment like a thoroughbred. I came to understand more of what he had been trying to tell me. He was changed. I had never admired him so much. Only once during the whole time did he become the least bit hysterical and that could have easily happened to anyone. There was a convict next to him who was going crazy. He had horrible fights with ghosts in his cell. It was enough to get on anybody’s nerves and Dido was susceptible to any form of insanity, anyway. Finally they took the poor fellow to the insane asylum. Otherwise it was very quiet.

Jungle Joe came around occasionally and swept and mopped the cells. The other convicts had warned us that he listened to the conversations and ratted to the deputy. But he was all right with me, he was my pal. They fed him from the guards’ setup. I told him that if he looked out for us I’d give him five dollars for each day we were in there when I got out. He gave Dido and me his food for the whole time we were in there. We had ham and eggs and steaks and pie and excellent coffee. It wasn’t bad at all. He gave us all the smoking we wanted and watched out for the guard while we smoked.

The number-one cell where they had put me was the emergency cell. Jungle Joe had a key for it but his key wouldn’t unlock any of the other cells. At night, after the night captain had come through and taken count, he would let me out so I could go around and talk to Dido. Joe warned me that the other convicts in there would rat on us so I had to be careful. He could see in the dark, it seemed, for he would take me by the hand and lead me through the darkness around to Dido’s cell. I would sit on the floor close to the bars and we would carry on a whispered conversation. Then after awhile Joe would lead me back to my cell and lock me in again.

Then, when everything was in order, Joe would bring a chair out from the anteroom where he slept, and visit with all of us. He would sit there and tell lies by the clock to keep us amused. That boy could really lie. I never heard him repeat himself.

The afternoon of the fifth day they let us out. The deputy was sitting at the desk in the courtroom when we passed through. “I hope you’re satisfied, Monroe,” he said. “I hope you’re satisfied, I hope you’re satisfied. You’ve your commutation.” I didn’t answer. I had expected it.

We sat in the waiting room for a few minutes. Then the runner came from the transfer office and took us up to separate cells on 5-4, the girl-boy company. I got a special letter the next day and wrote to my mother, asking her to come and see me as soon as possible.

My mother came over a couple of days later and I told her what had happened. I told her that the charge wasn’t true. I asked her to go to the welfare director and explain it to him, and then write to the governor and ask him to have the charge investigated. She promised that she would, but she didn’t have any hope of their doing anything. She was so sick about it she cried all during the visit.

I was sick myself. But one thing it had done for me. It had given me reality again. I could see the relationship between Dido and myself in its true perspective. And even though a lot of it had been foolish, and a lot of it hysterical, there had been some of it that had been truly fine. I didn’t have a single regret, nor would I have changed one bit of it, because there had been those moments that were priceless. I felt grateful to Dido for those moments. But there weren’t any more. I had had them all.

My mother hated Dido after that. She hated him forever and unrelentingly. She said some very nasty things about him, most of which had been told to her by people in the front office. She blamed him for everything. But I couldn’t blame her for that, though. She didn’t have any way of knowing that in the end—in the full, final decision—I had done it for myself. I had done it to be a man. And if I had lost freedom by doing it, I’d never had freedom, anyway, and it couldn’t hurt me much. It wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be. It had never been entirely real to me, anyway. And all I had to do was not think about it and it couldn’t hurt me. I had done a lot of time and I could do plenty more. But I couldn’t be a man later. I couldn’t wait. I had waited long enough as it was. I had to be it, then. For me, though. Just for me.

Now we had the name without the game. That was the toughest part of it. “We never had the game, but now we’ve got the name,” I told the guard. “It’s tough,” he said. He didn’t believe me.

I didn’t mind it so much for myself. They couldn’t hurt me, I told myself. They had already hurt me long ago, as much as they could ever hurt me. They never would be able to hurt me again as much as they had already hurt me, even if I lived a hundred-thousand years. Some day I was going out, I knew. It wouldn’t be too long. But Dido had to stay there. And they would hurt him in every way they couldn’t me. But he took it with his chin up. I knew how much they’d hurt him. But he never let the others see it and no one but me could tell.

It was a lousy company. Most of the men in it were either degenerates or stir-simple. They cursed and argued and fought all the time. Their conversation was polluted. You couldn’t hear an un-profane sentence up there in a month of Sundays. It was the noisiest company in the entire institution. The guards didn’t bother to keep them quiet. They just locked them up and went away. If you had never felt like an outcast before, you felt like one up there.

Dido was fine. He had quieted down and there was a new quality of serenity about him that was strange. He didn’t let little things touch him any more. I was glad. I hoped he would stay like that. But only for his sake. I didn’t need him any more. I had gone on by him. I think he understood, though. I sent him my typewriter and suggested that he try writing short stories or poetry to occupy his time. He sent me back a note:

Dear Jimmy:

Thanks for the loan of the typewriter. But you don’t have to worry. I’m okay. I love you, Jim. You are swell people. I am very glad to have met you, Mr. what was the name? Are you O.K.? I’m at the peak. Thought I would be beaten—defeated is a better word—but I’m not. I want you to know, though, I tried to make it perfect in every way.

Seriously though, you’ve given me more than you’ll ever know. I’m doing quite swell. I mean on the inside. And I’ll continue to be that way after you’re gone. You’ll be going some day soon. I feel it. But you needn’t worry about me. I’ll be swell.

Understand now what you meant by a lot of things. About putting something into anything you hope to get something out of. Does that sound very confused? And about treating people as people and using good judgment. I’ve learned that, too. I’ll be doing swell, you needn’t ever worry.

What are you doing? Just percolating? That’s my mother’s favorite word. Let’s percolate!

I may clean up and wash some clothes if I don’t feel lazy. Can’t know until I feel myself whether I’m lazy or not. I love you again in the same letter. Wouldja wouldja? Remember?

What did you do with the apple seeds?

The apple seeds were candy. I wrapped them in a paper and passed them down the range to him.

His letter made me feel better about not needing him any more. Maybe he knew and maybe he didn’t. I didn’t know. But I couldn’t tell him.

We would stick our mirrors in the bars and smile at each other through them. But most of our conversations were carried on by notes. Those convicts up there would take a conversation away from you and think nothing about it. We didn’t want to get into any fights. It was the easiest thing in the world to get into a fight up there. The hard thing was keeping out of them. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t have any love for convicts then and I was afraid I might kill someone if I got into a fight. But I used to carry a swinging six-inch dagger down the back of my shirt, just for protection. It made me feel better. Everyone up there had some kind of weapon or other. I didn’t want to have to run into any of them barehanded. But if you had a chiv as big as any of theirs you didn’t need to fight. All you had to do was flash it and you’d made another friend.

We played poker and blackjack on the range, with the aid of mirrors. The dealer would deal all the hands on the range in front of his cell. He would keep both hands stuck through the bars so that they were visible to the other players. Then he would deal off the cards, keeping the backs to himself and the faces toward the other players, so they could see through their mirrors what they had. Only the player who was receiving a card could keep his mirror in the bars. Then, when the cards had been dealt, all of the players would stick their mirrors in the bars and bet or turn down. It took more time than the regular way but it was played the same.