Part 8 (1/2)
The poor creature, who had been his mother's greatest treasure, shuffled out toward the door. Another customer came in, a nice looking young man with a good suit, a white collar, and looking as if he had plenty of money, The smiling bar tender mixed a drink and was handing it to him. The poor vagabond from the door called out. ”Oh, don't begin on him. Five years ago, I came into your place, looking just like that young man. You have made me what you see me now. Give that drink to me and finish your work. Don't begin on him.”
I went back to the hotel and bound the rod and cane together, then wrapped paper around the top of it. I slept but little that night, spending most of the night in prayer. I wore a large cape. I took the cane and walked down the back stairs the next morning, and out in the alley I picked up as many rocks as I could carry under my cape. I walked into the Carey Bar-room, and threw two rocks at the picture; then turned and smashed the mirror that covered almost the entire side of the large room. Some men drinking at the bar ran at break-neck speed; the bartender was wiping a gla.s.s and he seemed transfixed to the spot and never moved. I took the cane and broke up the sideboard, which had on it all kinds of intoxicating drinks. Then I ran out across the street to destroy another one. I was arrested at 8:30 A. M., my rocks and cane taken from me, and I was taken to the police headquarters, where I was treated very nicely by the Chief of Police, Mr. Cubbin, who seemed to be amused at what I had done. This man was not very popular with the administration, and was soon put out. I was kept in the office until 6:30 P. M. Gov. Stanley was in town at that time, and I telephoned to several places for him. I saw that he was dodging me, so. I called a messenger boy and sent a note to Gov. Stanley, telling him that I was unlawfully restrained of my liberty; that I wished him to call and see me, or try to relieve me in some way. The messenger told me, when he came back, that he caught him at his home, that he read the message over three times, then said: ”I have nothing to say,”
and went in, and closed the door. This is the man who taught Sunday School in Wichita for twenty years, where they were letting these murder shops run in violation of the law. Strange that this man should pull wool over the eyes of the voters of Kansas. I never did have any confidence in him. When he came to Medicine Lodge to lecture a few months before this, I would not go to hear him, telling the people that he was an enemy.
Kansas has learned some dear lessons, and she will be wise indeed when she learns that only Prohibitionists will enforce prohibition laws.
That republicans and democrats are traitors, and no one belonging to these parties should ever hold office, especially in Kansas.
At 6:30 P. M., I was tried and taken to Wichita jail; found guilty of malicious mischief, Sam Amidon being the prosecuting attorney, and the friend of every joint keeper in the city. He called me a ”spotter”
when I wanted to give evidence against the jointists.
The legislature was to convene in a few days and it was understood that the question of resubmitting the Prohibition Amendment would come up. Being a part of the const.i.tution, the people had to vote on it, and it was frustrating their plans to have such agitation at this time, and these republican leaders were determined to make a quietus of me, if possible. The scheme was to get me in an insane asylum, and they wished to increase my insanity as they called my zeal, so as to have me out of their way, for I was calling too much attention to their lawlessness, at this time, when it might prove disastrous to their plots.
Two sheriffs conducted me to my cell. The sensation of being locked in such a place for the first time is not like any other, and never occurs the second time. These men watched me after the door was locked. I tried to be brave, but the tears were running down my face. I took hold of the iron bars of my door, and tried to shake them and said: ”Never mind, you put me in here a cub, but I will go out a roaring lion and I will make all h.e.l.l howl.” I wanted to let them know that I was going to grow while in there.
Three days after, on the 30th, there was brought in and put next to my cell an old man, named Isaiah Cooper, a lunatic, who raved, cursed and tore his clothes and bedding. He was brought from the poor farm where he was waiting to be sent to the insane asylum. There were some cigarette, smokers in the jail and the fumes came in my cell, for I had nothing but an open barred door. I begged that I might not be compelled to smell this poison, but, instead of diminis.h.i.+ng, the smoke increased.
Two prisoners from across the rotunda were brought next to my cell.
What an outrage, to tax the citizens of Sedgwick County to build such a jail as that in Wichita. It holds one hundred and sixty prisoners.
There were thirteen there when I was put in. I have been in many jails, but in none did I ever see a rotary, except in Wichita, a large iron cage, with one door, the little cells the shape of a piece of pie. Perhaps there were a dozen in this one. The cage rotated within a cylinder. This was for the worst criminals, and the cells were only large enough for a small cot, a chair and a table about a foot square.
{ill.u.s.t. caption = JUST BEFORE I LEFT WICHITA JAIL A PHOTOGRAPHER CAME TO MY CELL AND ASKED TO TAKE MY PICTURE. HERE IT IS IN THE POSITION OF KNEELING, READING MY BIBLE, WHICH WAS MY USUAL ATt.i.tUDE.}
Mr. Simmons was the sheriff and he told the prisoners to ”smoke all they pleased,” that he would keep them in material, and he kept his word.
Tobacco smoke is poison to me and cigarettes are worse. The health- board belonged to this republican whiskey ring, and was in conspiracy to make me insane, so they put a quarantine on the jail for three weeks, and I was a lone woman in there, with two cigarette smokers, and a maniac, next to my cell. John, the Trusty, smoked a horrid strong pipe, and he also was next to my cell. Strange to say, when that jail had so many apartments, and so few in them, that four inmates should have been put next to me; but there was ”a cause.” Mr. d.i.c.k Dodd was the jailor, and for three weeks he was the only one who came in my cell and I was not allowed to see anyone in that time, but Dr. Jordan who called once.
I cried and begged to be relieved of the smoke, for I do not think Mr.
Dodd realized how poisonous it was to me. I would have to keep my windows up in the cold January weather, and the fire would go down at night. I had two blankets, no pillow and a bed that the criminals had slept on for years perhaps. I would s.h.i.+ver with cold, and often would lay on the cement floor with my head in my hands to keep out of the draught.
Oh! the physical agony! I had something like La Grippe which settled on my bronchial tubes, from which I have never recovered, and I expect to feel the effect to my dying day. I had a strong voice for singing, which I lost, and have never been able to sing, to speak of since.
Hour after hour I would lay on the floor, listening to the ravings of this poor old man, who would fall on his iron bed and hard floor, cursing and calling out names. One night I thought I could not live to see day. I had in my cell sweetest of all companions, my Bible. I read and studied it, and this particular night I told the Lord he must come to my aid. As I often do, I opened my Bible at random and read the first place I opened to, the 144th Psalm. I have often read the book through, but this chapter seemed entirely new. It reads, Verse 1: ”Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight. 2. My goodness and my fortress my high tower and my deliverer; my s.h.i.+eld and He in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me.”
G.o.d told me in this chapter that He led me to ”fight with my fingers and war with my hands;” that He would be my REFUGE and DELIVERER; that He would bring the people to me.
David had just such enemies as these when be says in this chapter: ”Cast forth thy lightnings and scatter them; shoot out thine arrows and destroy them.”
7. Send thine hand from above; rid me and deliver me out of great waters from the hand of strange children.
8. Where mouth speaketh vanity; and where right hand is a right hand of falsehood.
12. That our sons may be plants grown up in their youth; that our daughters may be as corner-stones polished after the similitude of a palace.”
Here is the motive: The drink murders our sons, and do not allow them to grow to be healthy, brave, strong men. The greatest enemy of woman and her offspring and her virtue is the licensed h.e.l.lholes or saloons.
13. ”That our garners may be full of all manner of store.”
Our grain is used to poison; our bread-stuff is turned to the venom of asps and the bread winner is burdened with disease of drunkeness, where health should be the result, of raising that which, when rotted and made into alcohol, perpetrates ruin and death; Our garners or grain houses are spoiled or robbed.
14. ”That there be no breaking in or going out; that there be no complaining in our street.”
What is it causing the breaking into jails, prisons, asylums, penitentiaries, alms-houses? The going out of the homes, of hearts; going out into the cold; going into drunkard's graves and a drunkard's h.e.l.l?
”Complaining in our streets.” Oh! the cold and hungry little children!