The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1927-01-08
The Wings of Illusion


uneven stubble. His cheeks, protrud-
ing beyond the reach Of hair, had the
outward appearance Of an unpealed
carrot Ha4less was he; with the
fringe of hair around his bald spot
wildly disheveled. Thus he staggered
into an Albany police station, pant
ing Like a tired stallion after a long
Journey. The visitor paused before
entering, seeming bit uncertain Of
his mission. His eyes almost bulged
out of their sockets which were deep
" set and nestled under a pair Of
bushy eyebrows. Suddenly he seem
ed to recall the purpose Of his visit
and made a feeble effort to straighten
up, as his fingers circled arONnd the
door knob. Pushing open the door,
he waddled In uncertain steps over to
the desk sergeant.
The unexpected arrival was attired
In pair Of saggy trousers and a blue
flannel shirt, unbuttoned at the neck;
q jacket uneVenly folded, rested over
his left arm; from a pocket Of which
hung the end OF colored necktie. AT
ter wiping with the cuff of his shirt
sleeve a flow of saliva dripping from
his half-open mouth, he began speak
ing, addressing himself to a burly
figure seated behind the large desk.
There's a man goin' to the chair
tonight for a KILN he amt done.
know he amt cause l pulled the ''job"
myseh-Honest did, and l wanna
come clean to you cause just seen
the Almighty. Yes, it was Jesus
Christ-get me-Christ l tell youse,"
he beloved his voice, rising in in
creasing crescendo.
His lips began to twitch nervously
as he saw smile sliding over the
sergeant's flushed face.
Laugh, damn you, nut it's tne
Gawds honest truth-may the deVn
take me If be lynn to you" To en-
phasize conviction to his words, the
visitor spat angrily on the floor and
shaking his clenched fist, continued.
II was in Mikes saloon gettin'
drink, you know "One-eye" Mixes
place over on the west side, dontcha!
Well, I puts half dollar on the bar
and order gin-it was rye had be-
fore, when suddenly l hears voices
behind me sayin' it's limits him.
Sore as 3 got, and turns
around quickly like / was gonna take
a smack at i'm, when / sees It's the
same guy croaked up in Utica, only
he was dressed in white this time,
and next to him stood Christ. / knew
Il was Christ cause l seen him be-
fore. The ghost pointed his finger
at me and says to him-Father, that's
the man that shot me. / fell to my
knees-s scared stiff l was, but He
disappeared. All He said was, "con-
TEAS son, confess"
A policeman walked over to the
desk sergeant and whispered in his
ear.
81 know this bird, Dan. It's Pete
Malone, a booze drinkin' bum and re-
figions fanatic. The boys call him
Saint Peter around the loop; they
say he was a minister once, but
guess that's talk, anyhow. l pulled
him in for hold-up last year. You'd
better put his statement on paper,
cause he's drunk now and peculiar
Ching is, when he's drunk, he tells the
truth"
The Saint" fumbled around his
pockets, finally terminating his quest
by extracting half smoked cigarette,
which he placed between two rows Of
tobacco teeth, and began stroking a
match with his thumb nail in an at
tempt to light It, almost losing his
balance from the effort. This COM
pietsd, he further unbuttoned his
shirt and united a dirty package
wrapped carefully around his bosom,
which he handed to the sergeant, cry
ing neryously:
Here's part Of the money amt
spent yet, you'll find the rest of it
home"
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