The Nation Behind Prison Bars

by George L. Herr

The good wife died, and after her death he became one of the most notorious bank robbers in this country. While in the county jail at Louisville, Ky., Dad's friends were standing nobly by him. He had plenty of money sewed in his clothes to meet his every need. I tried hard to reach him, but he was determined not to have anything to do with a "Sky Pilot," as he called me. The first time I spoke to him he almost spit in my face, but that never daunted me. I was more determined to win him. I saw he was a diamond in the rough. He had a bright mind, a man filled with history.

While in prison in Louisville, Ky., he became interested, and determined to quit the old life. After this determination he immediately wrote his intentions to his old pals on the outside, and told them not to send him any more money, for he was done with that life. They told him he was a fool and had gone crazy, and everything else they could think of.

But he was that kind, when he made up his mind to do a thing he did it.

The Lord of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.—Psalm 46:7.

Then it was my opportunity for the practical side of Christianity, for I believe in that side. His clean laundry must be supplied, extra food that his old companions had been having sent in from the restaurants must now be brought by the missionary from home. Many are the baskets of food I have carried from my cottage home to this man. But the time was coming when he was to be released and nowhere to go, and that was the thing that seemed to trouble him most.

I said: "Never mind, 'Dad,' when you get out of this prison-house come to my home, I'll take care of you and help you to a good life." Well, one night, at about 8 o'clock he knocked on the door. How glad wife and I were to see him! He often said, "How warm the fire looks and how home-like to see you all sitting around." We gave him a good warm supper, a good bed, the best room in the house, but that was not all he needed. The next day was the beginning of the real battle. The detectives were hounding him. But to keep them from rearresting him we sent him across the river until we could plead with the officers to give this man another chance. We believe had it not been for the great interest taken by John R. Pflanz, the jailer, at this time for this man, that he would have died in a cell in some far Eastern prison. He said, "What's the use? Let me alone; there is only one thing for me and that is to go back to the old life." We said, "'D,' we'll see you through."

I know not how to go.—1 Kings 3:7.

All this time we were trying to find employment for him. All this time he was growing impatient and would say: "A great big husky fellow like me laying around on a little man like Brother Herr." He weighed about 190 pounds, but we would encourage him by saying, "Well, Dad, you know God's people have all things in common, and he knows you are here, and when he sends to us he sends it for you as well."

One day when we were talking, he said: "Brother Herr, those old charges in Chicago, St. Louis, Pittsburg, Cincinnati and New York are hanging over me and I must face them."

We said, "Well, Dad, if you have made up your mind you would rather live for God behind the bars than to live for the devil on the outside or the inside, God will see you through. Go and face these charges, and if you mean business, God will take care of you."