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chance。〃
That man was Philadelphia Red。 Because of prior conviction he was
serving fifty years for highway robbery committed on the streets of
Alameda。 He had already served a dozen of his years at the time he
talked to me in the jacket； and that was seven years ago。 He was
one of the forty lifers who were double…crossed by Cecil Winwood。
For that offence Philadelphia Red lost his credits。 He is middle…
aged now； and he is still in San Quentin。 If he survives he will be
an old man when they let him out。
I lived through my twenty…four hours； and I have never been the same
man since。 Oh； I don't mean physically； although next morning； when
they unlaced me； I was semi…paralyzed and in such a state of
collapse that the guards had to kick me in the ribs to make me crawl
to my feet。 But I was a changed man mentally； morally。 The brute
physical torture of it was humiliation and affront to my spirit and
to my sense of justice。 Such discipline does not sweeten a man。 I
emerged from that first jacketing filled with a bitterness and a
passionate hatred that has only increased through the years。 My
Godwhen I think of the things men have done to me！ Twenty…four
hours in the jacket！ Little I thought that morning when they kicked
me to my feet that the time would come when twenty…four hours in the
jacket meant nothing； when a hundred hours in the jacket found me
smiling when they released me； when two hundred and forty hours in
the jacket found the same smile on my lips。
Yes； two hundred and forty hours。 Dear cotton…woolly citizen； do
you know what that means？ It means ten days and ten nights in the
jacket。 Of course； such things are not done anywhere in the
Christian world nineteen hundred years after Christ。 I don't ask
you to believe me。 I don't believe it myself。 I merely know that
it was done to me in San Quentin； and that I lived to laugh at them
and to compel them to get rid of me by swinging me off because I
bloodied a guard's nose。
I write these lines to…day in the Year of Our Lord 1913； and to…day；
in the Year of Our Lord 1913； men are lying in the jacket in the
dungeons of San Quentin。
I shall never forget； as long as further living and further lives be
vouchsafed me； my parting from Philadelphia Red that morning。 He
had then been seventy…four hours in the jacket。
〃Well； brother； you're still alive an' kickin'；〃 he called to me； as
I was totteringly dragged from my cell into the corridor of
dungeons。
〃Shut up； you； Red；〃 the sergeant snarled at him。
〃Forget it；〃 was the retort。
〃I'll get you yet； Red；〃 the sergeant threatened。
〃Think so？〃 Philadelphia Red queried sweetly； ere his tones turned
to savageness。 〃Why； you old stiff； you couldn't get nothin'。 You
couldn't get a free lunch； much less the job you've got now； if it
wasn't for your brother's pull。 An' I guess we all ain't mistaken
on the stink of the place where your brother's pull comes from。〃
It was admirablethe spirit of man rising above its extremity；
fearless of the hurt any brute of the system could inflict。
〃Well； so long； brother；〃 Philadelphia Red next called to me。 〃So
long。 Be good； an' love the Warden。 An' if you see 'em； just tell
'em that you saw me but that you didn't see me saw。〃
The sergeant was red with rage； and； by the receipt of various kicks
and blows； I paid for Red's pleasantry。
CHAPTER VIII
In solitary； in Cell One； Warden Atherton and Captain Jamie
proceeded to put me to the inquisition。 As Warden Atherton said to
me：
〃Standing； you're going to come across with that dynamite； or I'll
kill you in the jacket。 Harder cases than you have come across
before I got done with them。 You've got your choicedynamite or
curtains。〃
〃Then I guess it is curtains；〃 I answered； 〃because I don't know of
any dynamite。〃
This irritated the Warden to immediate action。 〃Lie down；〃 he
commanded。
I obeyed； for I had learned the folly of fighting three or four
strong men。 They laced me tightly； and gave me a hundred hours。
Once each twenty…four hours I was permitted a drink of water。 I had
no desire for food； nor was food offered me。 Toward the end of the
hundred hours Jackson； the prison doctor； examined my physical
condition several times。
But I had grown too used to the jacket during my incorrigible days
to let a single jacketing injure me。 Naturally； it weakened me；
took the life out of me； but I had learned muscular tricks for
stealing a little space while they were lacing me。 At the end of
the first hundred hours' bout I was worn and tired； but that was
all。 Another bout of this duration they gave me； after a day and a
night to recuperate。 And then they gave one hundred and fifty
hours。 Much of this time I was physically numb and mentally
delirious。 Also； by an effort of will； I managed to sleep away long
hours。
Next； Warden Atherton tried a variation。 I was given irregular
intervals of jacket and recuperation。 I never knew when I was to go
into the jacket。 Thus I would have ten hours' recuperation； and do
twenty in the jacket； or I would receive only four hours' rest。 At
the most unexpected hours of the night my door would clang open and
the changing guards would lace me。 Sometimes rhythms were
instituted。 Thus； for three days and nights I alternated eight
hours in the jacket and eight hours out。 And then； just as I was
growing accustomed to this rhythm； it was suddenly altered and I was
given two days and nights straight。
And ever the eternal question was propounded to me： Where was the
dynamite？ Sometimes Warden Atherton was furious with me。 On
occasion； when I had endured an extra severe jacketing； he almost
pleaded with me to confess。 Once he even promised me three months
in the hospital of absolute rest and good food； and then the trusty
job in the library。
Dr。 Jackson； a weak stick of a creature with a smattering of
medicine； grew sceptical。 He insisted that jacketing； no matter how
prolonged； could never kill me； and his insistence was a challenge
to the Warden to continue the attempt。
〃These lean college guys 'd fool the devil；〃 he grumbled。 〃They're
tougher 'n raw…hide。 Just the same we'll wear him down。 Standing；
you hear me。 What you've got ain't a caution to what you're going
to get。 You might as well come across now and save trouble。 I'm a
man of my word。 You've heard me say dynamite or curtains。 Well；
that stands。 Take your choice。〃
〃Surely you don't think I'm holding out because I enjoy it？〃 I
managed to gasp； for at the moment Pie…Face Jones was forcing his
foot into my back in order to cinch me tighter； while I was trying
with my muscle to steal slack。 〃There is nothing to confess。 Why；
I'd cut off my right hand right now to be able to lead you to any
dynamite。〃
〃Oh； I've seen your educated kind before；〃 he sneered。 〃You get
wheels in your head； some of you； that make you stick to any old
idea。 You get baulky； like horses。 Tighter； Jones； that ain't half
a cinch。 Standing； if you don't come across it's curtains。 I stick
by that。〃
One compensation I learned。 As one grows weaker one is less
susceptible to suffering。 There is less hurt because there is less
to hurt。 And the man already well weakened grows weaker more
slowly。 It is of common knowledge that unusually strong men suffer
more severely from ordinary sicknesses than do women or invalids。
As the reserves of strength are consumed there is less strength to
lose。 After all superfluous flesh is gone what is left is stringy
and resistant。 In fact； that was what I becamea sort of string…
like organism that persisted in living。
Morrell and Oppenheimer were sorry for me； and rapped me sympathy
and advice。 Oppenheimer told me he had gone through it； and worse；
and still lived。
〃Don't let them beat you out；〃 he spelled with his knuckles。 〃Don't
let them kill you； for that would suit them。 And don't squeal on
the plant。〃
〃But there isn't any plant；〃 I rapped back with the edge of the sole
of my shoe against the gratingI was in the jacket at the time and
so could talk only with my feet。 〃I don't know anything about the
damned dynamite。〃
〃That's right；〃 Oppenheimer praised。 〃He's the stuff； ain't he；
Ed？〃
Which goes to show what chance I had of convincing Warden Atherton
of my ignorance of the dynamite。 His very persistence in the quest
convinced a man like Jake Oppenheimer； who could only admire me for
the fortitude with which I kept a close mouth。
During this first period of the jacket…inquisition I managed to
sleep a great deal。 My dreams were remarkable。 Of course they were
vivid and real； as most dreams are。 What made them remarkable was
their coherence and continuity。 Often I addressed bodies of
scientists on abstruse subjects； reading aloud to