I told them a little about New York State penitentiaries, and then Ted said to Denver Red: "What do you think of the big fellow?" Denver grinned, and the others followed suit, and I heard the latest story. A well-known politician, leader of his district, a cousin of Senator Wet Coin; a man of gigantic stature, with the pleasing name, I will say, of Flower, had had an adventure. He is even better developed physically than mentally, and virtually king of his district, and whenever he passes by, the girls bow to him, the petty thief calls him "Mister" and men and women alike call him "Big Flower." Well, one night not long before the gathering took place in Teddy's house, Big Flower was passing through the toughest portion of his bailiwick, humming ragtime, when my new acquaintances, the three strong-arm workers from the West, stuck him up with cannisters, and relieved him of a five carat diamond stud, a gold watch and chain and a considerable amount of cash. The next day there was consternation among the clan of the Wet Coins, for Big Flower, who had been thus nipped, was their idol. We all laughed heartily at the story, and I went home and to sleep.
The next day I found it a very easy thing to drift back to my old haunts. In the evening I went to a sporting house on Twenty-seventh Street, where a number of guns hung out. I got the glad hand and an invitation to join in some good graft. I said I was done with the Rocky Path. They smiled and gently said: "We have been there, too, Jim."
One of them added: "By the way, I hear you are up against the hop, Jim." It was Billy, and he invited me home with him. There I met Ida, as pretty a little shop girl as one wants to see. Billy said there was always an opening for me, that times were pretty good. He and Ida had an opium layout, and they asked me to take a smoke. I told them my nerves were not right, and that I had quit. "Poor fellow," said Billy.
Perhaps it was the sight or smell of the hop, but anyway I got the yen-yen and shook as in an ague. My eyes watered and I grew as pale as a sheet. I thought my bones were unjointing and took a pint of whiskey; it had no effect. Then Billy acted as my physician and prepared a pill for me. So vanished one good resolution. My only excuse to myself was: Human nature is weak, ain't it? No sooner had I taken the first pill than a feeling of ecstasy came over me. I became talkative, and Billy, noticing the effect, said: "Jim, before you try to knock off the hop, you had better wait till you reach the next world." The opium brought peace to my nerves and dulled my conscience and I had a long talk with Billy and Ida about old pals. They told me who was dead, who were in stir and who were good (prosperous).
Not many days after my opium fall I got a note from Ethel, who had heard that I had come home. In the letter she said that she was not happy with her husband, that she had married to please her father and to get a comfortable home. She wanted to make an appointment to meet me, whom, she said, she had always loved. I knew what her letter meant, and I did not answer it, and did not keep the appointment. My relation to her was the only decent thing in my life, and I thought I might as well keep it right. I have never seen her since the last time she visited me at Auburn.
For some time after getting back from stir I tried for a job, but the effort was only half-hearted on my part, and people did not fall over themselves in their eagerness to find something for the ex-convict to do. Even if I had had the best intentions in the world, the path of the ex-convict is a difficult one, as I have since found. I was run down physically, and could not carry a hod or do any heavy labor, even if I had desired to. I knew no trade and should have been forever distrusted by the upper world. The only thing I could do well was to graft; and the only society that would welcome me was that of the under world. My old pals knew I had the requisite nerve and was capable of taking my place in any good mob. My resolutions began to ooze away, especially as at that time my father was alive and making enough money to support the rest of the family. So I had only myself to look out for—and that was a lot; for I had my old habits, and new ones I had formed in prison, to satisfy. When I stayed quietly at home I grew intensely nervous; and soon I felt that I was bound to slip back to the world of graft. I am convinced that I would never have returned to stir or to my old trade, however, if my environment had been different, on my release, from what it had been formerly; and if I could have found a job. I don't say this in the way of complaint. I now know that a man can reform even among his old associates. It is impossible, as the reader will see, I believe, before he finishes this book, for me ever to fall back again. Some men acquire wisdom at twenty-one, some not till they are thirty-five, and some never. Wisdom came to me when I was thirty-five. If I had had my present experience, I should not have fallen after my first bit; but I might not have fallen anyway, if I had been placed in a better environment after my first term in prison. A man can stand alone, if he is strong enough, and has sufficient reasons; but if he is tottering, he needs outside help.
I was tottering, and did not get the help, and so I speedily began to graft again. I started in on easy game, on picking pockets and simple swindling. I made my first touch, after my return, on Broadway. One day I met the Kid there, looking for a dollar as hard as a financier. He asked me if I was not about ready to begin again, and pointed out a swell Moll, big, breezy and blonde, coming down the street, with a large wallet sticking out of her pocket. It seemed easy, with no come-back in sight, and I agreed to stall for the Kid. Just as she went into Denning's which is now Wanamaker's, I went in ahead of her, turned and met her. She stopped; and at that moment the Kid nicked her. We got away all right and found in the wallet over one hundred dollars and a small knife. In the knife were three rivets, which we discovered on inspection to be magnifying glasses. We applied our eyes to the same and saw some pictures which would have made Mr. Anthony Comstock howl; if he had found this knife on this aristocratic lady he would surely have sent her to the penitentiary. It was a beautiful pearl knife, gold tipped, and must have been a loss; and yet I felt I was justified in taking that wallet. I thought I had done the lady a good turn. She might have been fined, and why shouldn't I have the money, rather than the magistrate?
The Kid was one of the cleverest dips I ever knew; he was delicate and cunning, and the best stone-getter in the city. But he had one weakness that made him almost a devil. He fell in love with every pretty face he saw, and cared no more for leading a girl astray than I minded kicking a cat. I felt sorry for many a little working girl he had shaken after a couple of weeks; and I used to jolly them to cheer them up.
I once met Kate, one of them, and said, with a smile: "Did you hear about the Kid's latest? Why don't you have him arrested for bigamy?"
She did not smile at first, but said: "He'll never have any luck. My mother is a widow, and she prays to God to afflict him with a widow's curse."