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that I was enraged by the motion…wastage of the loom…rooms and was
persecuted by the guards into becoming an 〃incorrigible。〃 One's
brain worked and I was punished for its working。 As I told Warden
Atherton； when my incorrigibility had become so notorious that he
had me in on the carpet in his private office to plead with me； as I
told him then：
〃It is so absurd； my dear Warden； to think that your rat…throttlers
of guards can shake out of my brain the things that are clear and
definite in my brain。 The whole organization of this prison is
stupid。 You are a politician。 You can weave the political pull of
San Francisco saloon…men and ward heelers into a position of graft
such as this one you occupy； but you can't weave jute。 Your loom…
rooms are fifty years behind the times。 。 。 。〃
But why continue the tirade？for tirade it was。 I showed him what
a fool he was； and as a result he decided that I was a hopeless
incorrigible。
Give a dog a bad nameyou know the saw。 Very well。 Warden
Atherton gave the final sanction to the badness of my name。 I was
fair game。 More than one convict's dereliction was shunted off on
me； and was paid for by me in the dungeon on bread and water； or in
being triced up by the thumbs on my tip…toes for long hours； each
hour of which was longer than any life I have ever lived。
Intelligent men are cruel。 Stupid men are monstrously cruel。 The
guards and the men over me； from the Warden down； were stupid
monsters。 Listen； and you shall learn what they did to me。 There
was a poet in the prison； a convict； a weak…chinned； broad…browed；
degenerate poet。 He was a forger。 He was a coward。 He was a
snitcher。 He was a stoolstrange words for a professor of
agronomics to use in writing； but a professor of agronomics may well
learn strange words when pent in prison for the term of his natural
life。
This poet…forger's name was Cecil Winwood。 He had had prior
convictions； and yet； because he was a snivelling cur of a yellow
dog； his last sentence had been only for seven years。 Good credits
would materially reduce this time。 My time was life。 Yet this
miserable degenerate； in order to gain several short years of
liberty for himself； succeeded in adding a fair portion of eternity
to my own life…time term。
I shall tell what happened the other way around； for it was only
after a weary period that I learned。 This Cecil Winwood； in order
to curry favour with the Captain of the Yard； and thence the Warden；
the Prison Directors； the Board of Pardons； and the Governor of
California； framed up a prison…break。 Now note three things： （a）
Cecil Winwood was so detested by his fellow…convicts that they would
not have permitted him to bet an ounce of Bull Durham on a bed…bug
raceand bed…bug racing was a great sport with the convicts； （b） I
was the dog that had been given a bad name： （c） for his frame…up；
Cecil Winwood needed the dogs with bad names； the lifetimers； the
desperate ones； the incorrigibles。
But the lifers detested Cecil Winwood； and； when he approached them
with his plan of a wholesale prison…break； they laughed at him and
turned away with curses for the stool that he was。 But he fooled
them in the end； forty of the bitterest…wise ones in the pen。 He
approached them again and again。 He told of his power in the prison
by virtue of his being trusty in the Warden's office； and because of
the fact that he had the run of the dispensary。
〃Show me；〃 said Long Bill Hodge； a mountaineer doing life for train
robbery； and whose whole soul for years had been bent on escaping in
order to kill the companion in robbery who had turned state's
evidence on him。
Cecil Winwood accepted the test。 He claimed that he could dope the
guards the night of the break。
〃Talk is cheap；〃 said Long Bill Hodge。 〃What we want is the goods。
Dope one of the guards to…night。 There's Barnum。 He's no good。 He
beat up that crazy Chink yesterday in Bughouse Alleywhen he was
off duty； too。 He's on the night watch。 Dope him to…night an' make
him lose his job。 Show me； and we'll talk business with you。〃
All this Long Bill told me in the dungeons afterward。 Cecil Winwood
demurred against the immediacy of the demonstration。 He claimed
that he must have time in which to steal the dope from the
dispensary。 They gave him the time； and a week later he announced
that he was ready。 Forty hard…bitten lifers waited for the guard
Barnum to go to sleep on his shift。 And Barnum did。 He was found
asleep； and he was discharged for sleeping on duty。
Of course； that convinced the lifers。 But there was the Captain of
the Yard to convince。 To him； daily； Cecil Winwood was reporting
the progress of the breakall fancied and fabricated in his own
imagination。 The Captain of the Yard demanded to be shown。 Winwood
showed him； and the full details of the showing I did not learn
until a year afterward； so slowly do the secrets of prison intrigue
leak out。
Winwood said that the forty men in the break； in whose confidence he
was； had already such power in the Prison that they were about to
begin smuggling in automatic pistols by means of the guards they had
bought up。
〃Show me；〃 the Captain of the Yard must have demanded。
And the forger…poet showed him。 In the Bakery； night work was a
regular thing。 One of the convicts； a baker； was on the first
night…shift。 He was a stool of the Captain of the Yard； and Winwood
knew it。
〃To…night；〃 he told the Captain； 〃Summerface will bring in a dozen
'44 automatics。 On his next time off he'll bring in the ammunition。
But to…night he'll turn the automatics over to me in the bakery。
You've got a good stool there。 He'll make you his report to…
morrow。〃
Now Summerface was a strapping figure of a bucolic guard who hailed
from Humboldt County。 He was a simple…minded； good…natured dolt and
not above earning an honest dollar by smuggling in tobacco for the
convicts。 On that night； returning from a trip to San Francisco； he
brought in with him fifteen pounds of prime cigarette tobacco。 He
had done this before； and delivered the stuff to Cecil Winwood。 So；
on that particular night； he； all unwitting； turned the stuff over
to Winwood in the bakery。 It was a big； solid； paper…wrapped bundle
of innocent tobacco。 The stool baker； from concealment； saw the
package delivered to Winwood and so reported to the Captain of the
Yard next morning。
But in the meantime the poet…forger's too…lively imagination ran
away with him。 He was guilty of a slip that gave me five years of
solitary confinement and that placed me in this condemned cell in
which I now write。 And all the time I knew nothing about it。 I did
not even know of the break he had inveigled the forty lifers into
planning。 I knew nothing； absolutely nothing。 And the rest knew
little。 The lifers did not know he was giving them the cross。 The
Captain of the Yard d