Adventures in Silence

by Herbert W. Collingwood

The Training School for Robbers—Eavesdroppers Who Heard Not a Word—The Fox and the Wolf—The Murderer—The Plans for Eloping—Regarding the Deaf as Uncanny—The Narrowness and Prejudice of the Deaf Themselves—Dancing and Singing Eliminated—The Blind and the Deaf, and the Man with Both Afflictions.

On a lonely corner in New York City I once saw three boys practicing the gentle art of highway robbery. One played the part of victim; he walked along giving a good imitation of the ordinary citizen busy with his own thoughts, giving little attention to his surroundings. The other two boys approached him carelessly, apparently laughing at some joke. As they passed, one of the “robbers” suddenly turned and threw his left arm around the “citizen’s” head just below the chin. Then he quickly slid his right arm down to pinion the arms of the victim just above the elbow. He put his left knee at the middle of the victim’s back and pulled with the left arm. It was a murderous grip; the more the victim struggled the closer drew the “head lock” under his chin, and the neck was forced back to the breaking point. The other boys deftly emptied the unprotected pockets of watch and money. Then they threw the victim to the ground and ran away. They rehearsed this over and over—taking turns at the different positions, perfecting themselves in this barbarous business.

I watched this fascinating play for some time, studying to think of some way in which the victim might defend himself. He might possibly use his feet, but taken unaware probably his breath would be shut off before he could organize any defense. One can easily realize how powerless an unsuspecting stranger would be at the hands of three trained villains such as these boys seemed likely to become.

Two years later I had occasion to pass through the street where this rogue’s training had been carried on. It was after dark, and just as my mind reverted to this grewsome drill two men appeared from under the shadow of the elevated station. They stopped and spoke to me, but I did not understand. One of them repeated his question, pointing at my watch chain. Naturally I pulled back my arm to strike him as I saw an opening, but the other man quickly caught my head and arms in that murderous lock which I had seen those boys practicing. He did not hurt me, but I found myself powerless to move or speak. I cannot describe the feeling of utter helplessness caused by that grip at my throat and arms. The first man took my watch from my pocket and held it to the light, looked at it carefully—and put it back again! He looked over my shoulder at his companion who held me captive, and as his face was then in the light, I could read the words on his lips:

“Only nine o’clock?”

Then I read once more:

“Thank you!”

My arms were set free, and, smiling, the two men hurried on. I assume that they merely wanted to know the time. They saw that I could not hear them and that I might call for help and put them in a bad position, so they helped themselves to the time of day in true hold-up style.

One man’s adventure illustrates how deafness may be converted into an asset if the affliction can be kept concealed. He went to a city park, and was sitting on a bench which was partly concealed by trees and shrubs. He was undergoing one of those periods of depression which often fall upon us in the silence, after some sharp rebuff, or when the real trouble of our affliction is visited upon us by some careless associate. Completely absorbed, this man did not notice that a nearby seat was occupied by a young woman and a man. Finally he did perceive that they were talking earnestly—the man was evidently pleading and the woman was inclined to deny him. But at last she evidently consented to his proposition, and he looked cautiously around to make sure that they were alone before sealing the agreement in the usual way. Then for the first time he discovered my deaf friend within ten feet of their bench! Of course these young people assumed that the deaf man had heard it all. From the beginning conscience has made cowards of most of us. The girl started to advertise her feelings with a scream, but her companion checked her just in time by pointing to a park policeman who was swinging his club at the corner of the path. Then he took out his notebook, and without trying to talk he wrote this brief explanation and handed it to the deaf man.

“Please don’t betray us. It is true that we have planned to elope. We will be married this afternoon in New Jersey. I am sure her father will forgive us when we return; it is our only way. You overheard by accident—now be a good sport and let us alone!”