The Man Behind the Bars

by Winifred Louise Taylor

"Whatever course may seem best to take now, Tom, after this I shall never rest till I see you, too, out of prison," was my earnest assurance.

There had been such a spirit of fair play among these men that I next laid the case before Maguire and Larry, and we three held a consultation as to the best line of action. They, too, appreciated the generosity of Evans and realized, far more than I could, what it might cost him. Doubtless each one of the three felt the strong pull of self-interest; but there was no faltering in their unanimous choice of a square deal all around. One thing was clear, the necessity of bringing about an understanding and concerted action between the lawyers whose present intentions so seriously conflicted. The advice and moral support of the warden had been invaluable to me, and he and I both felt, if the lawyers could be induced to meet at the prison and consult not only with each other but with their three clients, if they could only come in direct touch with these convicts and realize that they were men who wanted to do the right thing and the fair thing, that a petition could be drawn placing Evans and Maguire on the same footing, and asking the same reduction of sentence for both; while Larry in justice was entitled to a full pardon. I still believe that if this course had been taken both petitions would have been granted. But lawyers in general seem to have a constitutional aversion to short cuts and simple measures, and Evans's lawyers made no response to any overtures toward co-operation.

At about this time occurred a change in the State administration, with the consequent inevitable delay in the consideration of petitions for executive clemency; as it was considered impolitic for the newly elected governor to begin his career by hasty interference with the decision of the courts, or too lenient an attitude toward convicts.

Then ensued that period of suspense which seems fairly to corrode the heart and nerves of the long-time convict. The spirit alternates between the fever of hope and the chill of despair. Men pray then who never prayed before. The days drag as they never dragged before; and when evening comes the mind cannot occupy itself with books while across the printed page the same questions are ever writing themselves: "Shall I hear to-morrow?" "Will the governor grant or refuse my petition?" One closes the book only to enter the restless and wearisome night, breathing the dead air of the prison cell, listening to the tread of the guard in the corridor. Small wonder would it be if in those midnight hours Evans cursed the day in which he declared that he alone killed the policeman; but neither in his letters to me nor in his conversation was there ever an indication of regret for that action. The Catholic chaplain of the prison was truly a good shepherd and comforter to his flock, and it was real spiritual help and support that he gave to the men. His advice at the confessional may have been the seed from which sprung Evans's resolve to clear his own conscience and exonerate the others when the opportunity came.

Maguire never fluctuated in his confidence that freedom was on the way, but he was consumed with impatience; Larry alone, who never sought release, bided his time in serene cheerfulness.

And the powers that be accepted Larry's sacrifice; for so long was the delay in the governor's office that Maguire was released on the day on which Larry's sentence expired. The world looked very bright to Jim Maguire and Larry Flannigan as they passed out of the prison doors into liberty together. Maguire took up life again in his old environment, not very successfully, I have reason to think. But Larry made a fresh start in a distant city, unhampered by the fact that he was an ex-convict.

It was then that the deadly blight of prison life began to throw its pall over Evans, and the long nervous strain to undermine his health. He wrote me:

"I am still working at the old job, and I can say with truth that my antipathy to it increases each day. I am sick and tired of writing to lawyers for the last two years, and it amounted to nothing. I will gladly turn the case over to you if you can do anything with it."

The event proved that these lawyers were interested in their case, but politically they were in opposition to the governor and had no influence; nor did I succeed better in making the matter crystallize.

I had always found Evans animated and interested in whatever we were talking about until one interview when he had been in prison about thirteen years, all that time on prison contract work. The change in his appearance was evident when he came into the room. He seated himself listlessly, and my heart sank, for too well I knew that dull apathy to which the long-time men succumb. Now, knowing with what glad anticipation he had formerly looked forward to our interviews, I was determined that the hour should not pass without leaving some pleasant memory; but it was twenty minutes or more before the cloud in his eyes lifted and the smile with which he had always greeted me appeared. His whole manner changed as he said: "Why, Miss Taylor, I am just waking up, beginning to realize that you are here. My mind is getting so dull that nothing seems to make any impression any more." He was all animation for the rest of the time, eagerly drinking in the joy of sympathetic companionship.—What greater joy does life give?