The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1909-08-06
MILLIONAIRE IN
PRISON CELL
W. B. Bradbury Full of Fight,
but in Mortal Dread of
Term at San Quentin
BY MARY ASHE MILLER

ny MAKf AShE MILLER
Like character from Down East"
play was w. B. Bradbury, as he lay
back in the only chair in his cell in
the San Rafael Jail yesterday, and
talked to me-picking his teeth, at the
same time-with vigor remarkable
In man of his years.
Tall, gaunt, with close cropped sill
very hair and beard, and strong rough
hewn features, he impressed one as
being, beyond all else, shrewd and
well. at least thoughtful as regards
his own interests.
So strongly did the idea of his abil
ity to care for Bradbury possess me
that l was unable to summon up that
pity which L should have felt for an
old man in his predicament
l had constant. almost uncanny de-
sire to say, Don't worry, Mr.. Brad
bury, you will be able to get yourself
out of trouble very soon'
He tells a sad tale of persecution and
Ill health, doubly hard for man nearly
Is years old. but pity him you can
not, for back of it lies a wonderful
unsubdued spirit, determination to
fight to the last ditch. Not blind.
graphing sort of a fight either, but
with every weapon that legal skill and
his own cunning can devise.
Physically his burden of years
weighs upon him, but mentally he is.
should say, possessed of twice the
nimbleness that he had when he came
west 81 years ago from Maine, a young
carpenter determined to win a for
tune.
Il may live if I go to prison, but 1
doubt it." he said. 81 am certainly not
going to kill myself. but 1 am a man
with many ailments L require con-
slant attendance
And then he told me of the care his
wife is compelled to give him-raising
him in bed at night when he chokes,
helping him to dress, tying his shoes,
and so on, until wondered if his i'm
prisonment may not be of the nature
of rest cure for Mrs. Bradbury. I
told him that I felt sure he would
have to be in the prison infirmary most
of the time if he went to San Quentin
and he agreed with a triumphant
mournfulness and the air of hoping
that his medicine might have to be of
the most expensive kind.
He is pleasantly enough jailed in the
basement of the San Rafael court
house in room which has but little
appearance of a cell, save for the fact
that the window and door are barred
and the furnishing is decidedly simple.
The wide window looks on the grassy
square and affords an excellent view
of the main street, so the excitement
of the town is not denied him. On the
breakfast. and he was surrounded by
a nest of newspapers.
you seem fairly comfortable here,
said.
He waved his hand scornfulIy at the
bed and said: Does that look com
fortable?
admitted that he might find it
nicer if there were sheets and asked
him why he didn't get some.
"Oh, they wouldn't let he be-
gan, and then an idea seemed to strike
him, for he sat UP hastily in his chair
with more animation than he had yet
shown and shouted into the corridor,
"Jailer, will they let me have sheets
here?" and the polite young man who
carried the keys to the dungeon said.
You can have anything. Mr.. Brad
bury, that your wife brings you"
Bradbury was plainly astounded
What" he almost gasped, sheets
| and pillows. a mattress and a bic
chair?" He was like child picturing
Christmas joys.
yes, l think all of those-sheets
and pillows, anyway" he was told, and
certainly a pardon can bring no great
er joy than was his for the moment
Then he settled back into his chair
and said: Il won't do anything today
anyway. Maybe I can get out on that
habeas corpus writ this afternoon But
if I dont-well. my wife will get them
for me-" And then with an expression
of affection lighting his cold, close
scanning gray eyes, which was a de-
light to see. he continued: "She comes
to see me all the time. She has been
here already this morning and will
come again soon to see if need any
thing"