The Catholic times. [volume] (Columbus, Ohio) 1951-current, 1960-03-25

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handful of earth from the
flower bed then Strengthened.
Slowly, he let the handful of
rich dirt trickle through the
fingers of his gnarled hand,
and watched it fall back to
the earth.
THE RUMBLE of traffic
from outside the walls was
dull and distant and seemed
to hang unnoticed in the air
above the big yard. A bird
chirped from a nearby tele-
phone wire. The guard group
stood fast. Still moving slow
ly, the old man walked a few
PAGES to a big tree and lifted
his eyes to its branches. He
put his hand against the
rough bark of the trunk and
rubbed his calloused palm up
and down once over the heavy
black ridges. He turned then,
strobe back to his place in
the line, and stepped off in
marching rhythm toward the
little door across the yard
from which he would emerge
no more alive.
He had killed members of
his family with a rifle. He
left a quiet trail of sympathy
in the Big House, which was
forgotten in the morning.
THE SMALL MAN was bet
ter known and hated more
than any other man who ever
took the walk. He'd been a
"fink" in the State Reforma-
tory, and many a tale had
passed his lips to the guards
and officials about other in
mates there. He went white
faced, and a%nguished. He
skipped twice to get in step
with the group, then his short
steps seemed to rush ahead of
them anyhow. He leaned for
ward as he walked. His under
slung jaw, broken years be-
fore by some convict's fist,
jutted out in front of him,
seeming to lead him, as if the
rest of him were just hung
onto it.
The little door was escape
for him. Escape from hui
man hate, and what internal
tortures no man may know.
No word of sympathy was
ever spoken for him. He left
only fear that the ugly, black
chair might fail to work in
his case, and relief that it had
not.
He had killed a little girl
in a sex attack in a big city
park. There was no under.
standing in him, or for him.
THE YOUNG BOY caused
more different feelings than
anyone else. Hate, fear, con-
tempt and sympathy mingled.
He went wide eyed, but I'M
seeing. He seemed TO be car
ried u~nknowingly by the 9TH
er marchers. Rather than the
cause of the march, he SEEM
ed to be out of place in it,
as IL some grisly mistake had
been made.
He could not have been
doped, because ii is against
the law to give dope or
alcohol TO a condemned man.
The whiteness of his face
could have been pure animal
fear which he'd had along
with the screaming meemies"
during the long months in
death row. Or it could have
been the natural paleness of
his skin which was soft, al
most effeminate. There was
no cl0seness between the
youth and the other marchers
In the group, and yet there
was no separation. He was
there, and they were there,
but there was no relationship
between them except the
vague notion that they were
Carrying him.
THE STRENGTH of youth
seemed to have drained from
his legs. The spring sap with
its riotous, bubbling, boiling
promise Of life seemed TO
have CONCEALED in him. II
was as If they were going to
kill a man already dead. The
big walk seemed to have no
meaning for him. There was
nothing in him identifiable as
life except his movement to-
ward that last door, and that
seemed to come into him from
those around him. There was
no resistance, no urgency, no
voiition.
II was as if the whole scene
had been laid out in some
vague, far away courtroom.
The plan had crossed the
draftsman's board and must
be carried out to the en-
gineer's specifications. There
was the walk. two turns, and
q door, and death. That was
all.
This was the youth who