Capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1919-1980, 1920-07-06
Runqway Lad, II, In
Jail Here, Tells Of
Inhu,71an Treatment

Folding and unfolding his cap, wist-
fully insisting that officers shouldn't
send him back to his father at Dee,
Or, Frank Brown, II years Of age,
knickerbocKered sat in little heap in
the Salem police station Tuesday morn
ing. Occasionally, as he answered
questions, his mouth was forced into
smile; always his eyes remained SER
ious.
Il didn't do anything to get into
Jail" he said.
Officers, accustomed to dealing with
all types of men, found themselves
explaining, half apologetically, to vie
small boy in the rather soiled knicker-
bockers. Monday night the lad was
picked up by Traffic Officer Bert
Smith and turned over to local au-
thorities. Questioned this morning he
told his story. Beanten by his father
because he could not work fast enough
he finally ran away from the ranch at
Dee and went to Portland month agoai
when, until he came to Salem he had
been selling papers and sleeping as
best he might in a building under
construction
Empty Building Lads Home.
And your mother?" Acting Chief
Harry Rowe questioned.
The lad looked up slowly and his
face sobered. He re-folded his check
cred cap and cleared his throat
Never had one," he said. you sec,
my mother died when / was two weeks
old. Oh, know how others kids are
that have motllers-and know feY-
low wouldn't run away from home n
he had one"
Two officers who consider them-
selves rather hardened, cought voci-
ferously The lads voice, sometimes
rather quiet. sometimes almost shrill,
went on:
1T was fine in Portland. dion 1 /
have any bed--but 1t was just as good
as one. ] slept all alone In the build
ing so nobody ever bothered me. And
ia go to sleep about 5 o'clock in the
evening so the cops wouldn't arrest|
me. ! slept OH some old papers and
some quilts that the painters used to
stand on during the day"
Beaten When at Home, Is Claim.
Were you happier there than at
home 2"
The little chap nodded again. II had
most everything / wanted. And at
home, you see. he---he whips me when
] don't do anything. All care about's
my sisters. They always try to stop
him when he licks me-"
4 Whenl called from the big cell IN
the city jail Tuesday morning the boy
had been standing by the window.
j Birds" he said, nodding toward the =
barred window. "They kind a. keep 4
you company
Lad Juvenile Forbes Robertson.
Frank Brown, small for his age, well
set-up. independent, looks and talks
as il he might have stepped from the
pages Of novel. Pathos is in almost
every word that he speaks, every
question that he cheerfully answers.
His Is a drama that is true, and he
.ells 1t like juvenile Forbes Robert-
son. His style is convincing, his in
tonations perfect; his every infection
makes more vivid his story
At first the lad refused Officer
Rowe's invitation to eat his breakfasl
lp town. I'm too dirty" he said,
slancing over his clothes, Officers
xindly insisted. and finally the youth
Lgreed on the condition that he be'
Illowed to wash his hands and face
nd comb his hair.
Fate Of Youth Not Known.
What win become Of Frank Brown,
1. police do not at present know. Eff
orts will be made to keep him from
he industrial school, for the boy Is
ager to work for anybody who, he
ays will treat him decently, He is
ne son of Thomas Brown, Of Dee, Or.
He says he can earn his own way
v selling papers II necessary, ana
oes not want to return home because
: says. he will be worse treated now
ian before he went away. He had
1882 when picked up by police.