The Sunday globe., 1901-07-14
prison REFORM.
"a YellOy Streak" Says An Old
Convict
ALONG THEIR SPINAL COLUMN
The SoIuOn by Professional Criminal Of
The Prblem Discussed Last Week-SeIeO-
tlons # Prison Poetry by Life Prisoners
EruIuheIy, Some Of Whom are Nov al
LIBERIA Life Story,
Eleventh Paper.

TO life Imprisonment IN the ONO Penelentlary
for fglting a street duel in which the defamer
of Instantly was killed. Pardoned after eight
years imprisonment, he proposes In the
columns Of the Globe to tell "a plain, unNar
nishd tale of life I'm modern peniteutiary
-EnToR)
An old-time convict, one who had
"done his BIT in half adozen different
State penitentiaries, in commenting on
the problem of the superior loyalty Of
the professional prisoners wife over
that of the accidental" criminals, got
off the following, which, by the way,
as editor of the prison paper, we put
quietly to sleep in the waste basket,
and only now give its substance from
memory:
"There is a yellow streak, which ex.
tends the full length of the spinal col.
umn of the wife of an accidental pris-
oner. This streak is "selfshness."
She married her man to be petted, ta'
ken care Of, and kept in luxury.
When her man falls, and he can no
longer contribute to her ease and sell
fshness, she resents it as a terrible
grievance, and soon begins to "cOol
off" towards him. In a little while
as she broods over her new troubles
of having to hustle little, she begins
TO hate the husband who caused her
all this trouble. Her kinfolks, acquain.
tances and the society in which she
moves all encourage her in these feel.
ings Her man is absent, and the
magnetism of his presence to argue,
convince, or soothe her are lost, and
his enemies as well as his friends set
in their work, and he is doomed. She
either quietly separates herself from
him in spirit and person, or, If she is
still young, obtains a divorce, and gets
another man, for man she must have
as she is incapable of taking care of
herself, and too selfish to make any
sacrifice for the man she stood up
with at the altar, and promised to
"love, honor and obey, for better or
worse, until DEATH
AS the decent, socalled wife of the
accidental" criminal has a streak of
yellow, so the real criminals wife, or
woman, has a streak of "gameness," or
unselfishness, which carries her
through. She hates the authorities the
police and the officials equally as in
tense as her husband or man, and
looks upon the latter. no matter what
he does in the way of crime, as vic
tim Of the law. Then, again, there
is no whining among us profession
ais. We philosophically take our i'm
prisonment as one of the expected hi
abuses in our public" careers. We do
not pour tales Of woe into the ears of
our women when they visit us, nor do
they into ours, nor do we regret our
crimes We've been unlucky in getting
jugged in the stir, better luck next
time" etc.
Passing from this troublesome prob
lem which each has to solve for him
self when the time comes the writer
only desires to state as a wind up to
the subject that he was the only life
prisoner confined, his length of time
(eight years. whose wife didn't di-
vorce him.
AS a variety TO the probably tedi-
Gus narrative chapterized in the past
three or four issues, we this week pro
pose to give specimens of the "prison
poetry" contributed to the Prison
News. They are mainly the produc-
tions of life prisoners, or accidental
criminals, whose one crime con-
signed them to the fearful fate Of i'm
prisonment during tha'' rdtaral lives,
unless pradoned by the governor, and
If all the chief executives of Ohio were
like the present incumbent, Hon. Geo.
K. Nash; the Ohio penitentiary would
be the grave of the hundreds now at
liberty through the clemency extended
them by his predecessors. Even on
July 4th last, Governor Nash refused
to ch-CTyt the time-nouored custom Of
extending a pardon to one Of the unfor-
Inmates, many Of whom have served
from ten to twenty-five years behind
the walls.
The following verses were contrib
uted by an educated Irishman, whose
life Imprisonment was happily and de
seryedly terminated by Governor
Bushnell, and who, as a matter Of fact,
evidence and history ought not to have
served a single hour of imprisonment:
As autumn leaves are falling fast,
And woods are brown and sere,
/. grieving, brood of days long past,
And pine in sorrow here.
The ivied ruins, the castles old,
The green hills where they stand
What scenes these fading eyes behold
In thee dear native land!
The changeful dome of Irish skies,
The landscapes emerald sheen,
The sacred fanes, the hallowed ties,
The glories that have been;
The sloping banks, the crystal
streams,
The peaceful, fiower-deckeI vale,
In exiles soft and pensive dreams
My native land | nail!
When first my infant eyes beheld
Thy mountains and thy sea,
My ravished soul thou captive held
And stIu It's chained to thee.
Though genial cline or gen'rous race
Extend the welcome hama
On hearts that feel mus, nature trace
The love of native land.
The hawthorn hedge, the rural calm
OF embOwered winding lanes
/ feel again their perfumed balm,
Though crime my ma hood stains
But crime, or sin, or fateful chance
Whateer they name the brand
Grant thou, . Lord this last fond
glance
Rest on my native land.
Here is another from nfe prisoner,
who was also subsequently pardoned:
Hail Mother, full Of grace thou art,
And sainted member now
o. heaven hosts, no trials of earth
Can cloud thy beaming brow.
Hail Mother, blest with angels bright,
feel thy loved embrace
Thy spirit In the silent night
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