The Birmingham age-herald., 1923-07-01

sunshine. l had taken half dozen turns of that fifty-yard distance when the voice of my friend, the former newspaper reporter, reached my ears.
 ''I'm Going To Learn"
 "Oh, don't take 1t so hard" he called out cheerily, maybe it's only dream after all"
 I faced about and saw him ap- preaching the end of my promenade.
 Fall in here; misery likes com pany," l told him and a moment later he was walking with me.
 Brownie" said I-his name there was Brown-"Im not taking it hard, but I've quite a problem to work out. I've got the writing bug-that thing that makes people want to write or how to begin."
 "The Lord help you, man." he laughed the jolly yet half-bitter and cynical laugh of fifty-year old victim of John Barleycorn. That's one of the worst diseases known"
 "Perhaps," I agreed; but when a man gets it, what's he to do?"
 "Just struggle along till he starves to death" was the quick answer. "Of course, though, the state will feed you here, maybe, for time."
 "Yes, for a good long time yet maybe" I returned. But in all seriousness, Brown, I've got to write and I'm going to learn Or die try ing"
 He was silent for a moment; then: "You could learn 1t; you've got it In you. You might do something in that line that would, well, revolu tionize some things"
 Say, Boston pie -eater"-I checked my pace and turned to him, and could see he was serious-"you're not wanting to borrow sack of smokin,' are you?"
 I'm sure, Kane" he went on, ignoring my flippancy, that you could learn. As to the matter of what to write-Heavens man!-its all around us here, walls, bars and ignorance next to us; ignorance dense and blatant beyond these walls.
 Ignorance beyond these walls? Explain yourself"
 A Bridge Without Tools.
 "The downright ignorance of the public" said he, stopping to look me In the eye. "The people have cer- tain fixed ideas about men who are sent to these dumps; those ideas spell misunderstanding in large letters and misunderstanding boiled down is nothing but ignorance"
 q get your idea" I told him, and we started to walk again. And would you have me attempt to help bridge such a chasm of misunder- standing between the public and our peculiar people of this inside wGrld?"
 Exactly that" Brown drew hard and nosily upon his strong smelling pipe. "Only instead of a mere chasm of misunderstanding, it's a broad gulf"
 "Broad gulf then" I agreed, sec ing again in my minds eye the Gulf of Mexico. And to begin such a thing would be like a lone man with out tools standing on the Texas beach intent Cn building a bridge to New Orleans"
 Tn a way, yes. But you asked if I'd have you to help-not to do 1t alone-to help bridge that gulf. And l say that you can-that you could help to do it.'
 At that juncture I heard my name being called, and sweeping glance of some fellows, sitting on a bench told me that Che of them had spok en.
 Hey Jack!" he called again and pointed toward the cellhouse. There's the swamper over there motionin' to you"
 "Swamper" was the name that most of the inmates applied to our office boy.
 The mail had arrived.
 To distribute the mail was a part of my duties, and because the men were always anxious to know for them I hastened to arrange and deliver it to the various tiers. Chance Brings An Opening.
 The first glance at the mail basket such as was used in sending the mall In from the front office-showed me a looking little magazine with my name written on 1t. I knew that it was one of the dozens of such publications as come almost daily to a warden's desk. He had sent it in to me without comment, choosing that way perhaps of Tightening the waste basket.
 After I had distributed the mall mostly letters from sorrowing mothers. wives, sisters and others-I returned to my desk, read two or three letters that had come for me, then I took up that little apparently mushroom style magazine. The very first place I opened 1t was at the editorial page, and there In an ob- long space in the center of the page were these lines:
 "Inasmuch as this publication Is devoted solely to the better inter- ests of prison inmates throughout the United States. the editors are de- sirous of securing few articles Cf from two thousand to three thousand words in length dealing with the question of the general betterment of prisoners"
 The moment my eye had finished running over those lines. knew that 1 was going to try my hand at writing such an article. My second sion to mail the thing out-even If it passed the censorship of the front office-but I decided that I would first write the article and get the required permission afterward, If possible.
 I wrote the article-wrote it with pen and ink upon lined paper taken from a large tablet After certain changes had been made in that three thousand word master piece CD, it went upon its way.
 O O O Am An Author!
 In the very next mt nth's issue of that little Ohio magazine, my article occupied the seat of honor. At this writing I do not remember my open ing paragraph, but the second para graph began with the following sen tence: Much has been written and said about prisons and prison in- and the better plan of man. agement of and for them. That seems tC be an eternal question, or at least like Banquo's ghost-it will not down."
 Of course a peculiar thrill of jay attended my reading of that. my first