The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1927-05-16
Ruth Still LoUes Judd
In Spite of All
CONTINUED from Flrst Page.l


was shown up three narrow flights
of forbidding and forsaken slate
steps within the Queens county jail.
i tried to master my depression and
muster something bright to start
with. something that might CLEAN
( through the gloom of this solemn,
weird meeting.
never needed It. Three matrons
met me at the head of the last flight,
motioned me toward the corridor
and along came Ruth.
A Smile on Her Face
Upon the famous face, beneath the
waved blonde bobbed locks. was a
smile. A sunny. hospitable. honest
smile. Even the steel-blue eyes, 50
much discussed and described. those
tmmutable ind inscrutable eyes. were
smiling. The thin. pale lips of her
ample mouth were partly open, and
smiling.
She asked me to sit down. as she
might have a visiting neighbor-or
the insurance agent--in the home
which she always kept tidy before
q murder that shocked the world
inussed it up. There was a glazed.
tin table, on which she had been
embroidering On each side was a
chair. took one, she sat across
from me.
Ruthie Cuts Loose
She asked after the weather,
which couldn't have meant much to
her. then she threw her hands on
high and chuckled aloud:
tOh. baby! Won't those other
reporters rave when they see you
got an inside story from hteir iii
pet. Ruthie? Say-they'll burn.'
She caught herself, For the flash
Of an instant the ring and the sting
of that inadvertent word changed
her eye-pupils to pin-point size.
Burn!-that was the Jail slang for
death in the electric chair, and it
was no impersonal subject. ''Burnw
she repeated. Then she fought back
into her smile, and through it she
cackled; Would you call that
nifty?"
Hair q Bit FrOwsy
She wore a very dark blue one
piece housefrock. nothing stylish or
even becoming. 1t was not black
and was not intended for a widows
mourning. as. some of the court.
room observers had intimated Over
1t was a heavy knitted white
sweater coat. made for a man and
not for woman. The cuffs came
down over her knuckles. 1t is cold
and damp in iails.
Her hair was little bit frowsy
She is natural blonde, but it is
touched up. At closeup the prac-
ticed eve can detect that the roots
are darker. She was devoid of all
makeup. Her lips were pale SAL
mon. lin ed perpendicularly and
noticeably with tiny parallel seams
She wore no ornaments save the
platinum plated. very narrow wed
ding band. Her only jewel was
consistency.
The enclosure in which / found
myself as l got breath and com.
posure to glance around was an
oblonged cell corridor. All along
one wall ran coops separated by
solid, riveted walls of steel, like
the plate of a man-o'war. Each
had door Of upright bars check.
cred with horizontal flat cross.
pieces Though which they were
braced. Within the one that stood
open I saw a washbowl and two
hunks, similar to the upper and
lower of a Pullman section, though
not IurnlShed so.
Sat In Vestibule
The open one was Ruth's. We
sat in its vestibule, so to say. On
the lower there was a coarse, dark
lsh blanket and a pillow that was
her bed. The upper was down, but
not made" On it was a square
suitcase, the sort called an over
night bag" 1t was the same one
80 often named by Judd Gray in
his testimony. Against the far
wall hung her fur-trimmed coat,
neatly hugging a hanger. She
caught my eye as my eye swung
back to her.
Sing Sing Destination
"That bag" she said, summon.
Ing the smile, twas in the car
when ] went on my honeymoon
iOyride with Judd. We passed
Sing Sing the first hour or SO out.
He showed it to me, down the in.
cline from the road. / didn't think
then that-that my poor little bag
would ever stop there"
Her bag, mind you-not herself!
1t was a bit poetic, putting it that
way at that time and in that place.
She told me / might smoke. 4
She never did, but she had
matches. Yes, they allowed her
many little privileges. She laugh.
ingly, almost sneeringly, mentioned
newspaper reports of fear that
she might cheat the chair" by
suicide. and added:
"After what the matrOns have
seen Of Rutl1ie, they know she
won't take that way out. No
suicide in my composition, and
you can tell that to the world.
All the yellow in me is in my
hair. No, they let me roam
around, sew, use scissors, have
my meals sent in without messing
into them. And they've kept all
other female prisoners out of this
tier. It's my private suite. Oh,
I'm used to One-aIWayS had one
when was away from home"
Ruth Held the Match
I lit a cigarette. She held the
match. She, hoped up. ran into
her cell (the boudoir of her private
suite) and came forth with a sheaf
of scratch paper. She had written
on it the first chapter of her
story. She asked me to give it
the once.over and tell her. as a
professional. what thought of it.
] cannot discuss it in detail
here-that would be breaking
faith-furtheT than to say she has
clarity, style. directness. literary
force and a command of straight.
away. everyday Bronx English
that would make city editors
heart rejoice.
What fascinated me as much
as the context was the hand.
arr,.ikir,n