Indiana daily times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1914-1922, 1921-04-04
WRITINGS LEFT
IN CELLS TELL
TRAGIC STORY
WrOnged Innocence Behind
DeSpaiIing Notes Scratched
by Girls.
BY LAUREL c. THAYER,
City Court Probation Officer,

City Court Probation Officer.
"Where do we go from here girls ?"
scratched with a pin on the black painted
walls of a prison cell where women await
triaI-these words sing their tragic story
to every new prisoner.
The letters are wavering and unsteady.
for the arm of the writer rested on
space as she half reclined on her prison
cot, a wide shelf fastened to the cement
wall
Surrounding this snatch Of song are
other bits Of unlovely literature, tortur-
ing flash lights into the souls Of women
who have lost their way on life's darker
paths and have come to know the CHASTITY
truth that the iron door that shuts them
in shuts friendship out
Were there tears In the eyes OF the
other girl who wrote into this grewsome
mural decoration: Here's where l get
sent to Clermontf" or was she "a re-
peater." as they are called at police
headquarters, one who has seen police
court before?
A few feet from this literary mosaic
an iron door opens on the large inner
cell room used only for DRINKS and
insane.
AS the grim blackened walls of this
room greet unfortunates. the one pfc
ture their dazed, sorrowful eyes rest on
is the face Of a beautiful girl sketched
On the wall'tlat shuts them in from the
world.
1t is the face Of innocent youth, face
II classic beauty and charm. Exquisite
Y refined features are done solidly in
pencil. The art of ages is in the profile
It is perfect In outline and proportion.
WAS 1T HER
FIRST MISTAKE?
But what of the artist? She does not
IN police court and passed into an IN
forgetting, unforgiving world.
Was she q young girl who had made
her first mistaken Was she a mother
awaiting the arrival of friends bringing
her child to see her?
Was she one of those hopeless ones
whom life has taught to say only What's
the use?" Did she come to this rendez-
vous of the defeated through the treach-
cry of loved one?
What thoughts guided imprisoned fng-
ers that pencilcd the face of a maiden of
wonderful beauty?
Whence came the art instinct that CHS
eled lines Of perfection on the wall of
n prison?
What OF the cherished hopes. perchance
for the life Of an artist? Had crushing
poverty made that career impossible?
And where is she now, she who has
thus endured the endless hours of a
sleepless night while her more stolid
prison companions slept? Does she
hunger for beauty or is she. as a grain
of sand, swept out into the ocean Of
life and lost?
1t Is in the same prison cell. a room
about fifteen feet square, that two girls
awaited the call of the matron to the
courtroom during the World War.
There was a stir in the courtroom and
n straIning Of necks as two pretty young
women entered, dressed in khaki suits Of
military style. Both had golden hair.
They were charged with vagrancy. They
had been arrested at a small hotel.
But what brought you to the city 2"
asked the judge during the trial.
Il came to help my husband" was the
hesitating reply. =
Where is he?" queried the prosecutor
HUSBAND IN JAIL
ACROSS STREET.
ACROSS the street in the jail You see,
they accused him of deserving from the
Army and l was the only one who could
help him. SO l brought my baby and
was working in a laundry to get money
to pay a lawyer. My friend was taking
care Of the baby. Two soldiers stopping
at the hotel came to our room. They
were strangers to US"
AS the judge looked toward the other
golden haired girl a middle-aged man
stepped forward rs if to intercede.
After the girls testimony the Judge
asked: HAS the father anything to
say?"
The man made his <onfession.
II amt done right by the girl" he al
most sobbed. Our home amt very hap
ply Cor a young girl like her and she
got tired of living with an old grand
mother, a hard-working father and
younger brother. Her mother has got
another husband. I guess the girl got
lonesome and wanted to see the bright
lights. If you. will let her go I will
take her home, Judge"
why did you come to Indianapolis 2"
again asked the Judge.
II couldn't get work at home and my
friend was coming up here, so l just
come with her. My fathers good to me-
bus he'ss gone all day and goes to sleep
right after supper because he is tired
Father and daughter left the courtroom
together. In the corridor, as they stood
facing the probation officer, he saw for
the first time his child budding into
young womanhood, with youths insist
ent demand for self-expression, with the
buoyant joyousness Of the young animal
AS he thought of the humdrum life OF
his home, of the lack of companionship
for his pretty blue-eyed daughter, he
said through his tears:
IN see that she has a happier home.
We amt had no books nor music in our
home, but we're goin' to have 'em now"
LOST
IN NEW YORK ALONE.
1t Is from homes such as this that
many girls ccme TO seek diversion in the
city. Sixty eight thousand of them dis
appeared from New York last year. Many
Of these viii never again cross the
thresholds Of their homes, will never look
into the Borrowing eyes of the mothers
who wait