Read The Executioner's Song Online
Authors: Norman Mailer
In their tank, labeled by Gilmore The Stinking Dungeon, they had a cracked porcelain toilet, now nicotine yellow in color. You flushed it by pressing a button on the wall. But in order to get enough leverage, you had to grab on to the side of the shower, and lean for two full minutes on the button. Only that way could you build sufficient pressure.
Then, once the waters started, you had to hold the toilet plunger to the base of the bowl until the level came up to the rim, That was the only way to have enough liquid to force a load down. All the while, a leak would be oozing around the seal at the bottom. The Open-Pit Sulfur Mine, they called it.
One afternoon, needing fuel for coffee water, they tore down the cardboard sign that gave instructions on how to flush the pot, and Gary replaced it with words of his own, written with a Magic Marker on the wall.
Important Notice !!!
To Flush this Chitter
You keep Butt on Bowl
Press Button Firmly with Tongue
Good Luck Motherfucker
Then he fell in love with the Magic Marker. "After I'm gone, they'll really think a nut was in here," he said, and on all the walls, he wrote, "WALL," wrote "CEILING" on the ceiling, "TABLE" on the table, "BENCH" on the bench, "CHOWER" in the shower. Then he numbered each bunk "BUNK ONE," "BUNK TWO." Finally he printed on Gibbs's face and his own: "FOREHEAD," "NOSE," "CHEEK," "CHIN."
When the jailer arrived to serve the evening meal, he asked "Vy you do thees?" He was a wetback named Luis. Thickest accent, "Vy you do thees?" "Oh," said Gilmore, "they told me to get ready for Court."
They looked forward to getting the wetback. One time Gary asked to phone his lawyer, and since Luis never wanted to stir ass for a prisoner, he said, "Geelmore, ees thees important?"
"Yeah," said Gary, "it's a matter of life and death." They howled. Old Luis just stomped away.
Now, the trustee who did the haircutting was afraid to be in the cell with Gary. So Gary asked Gibbs to do the job. Gibbs told him, "Never in my life," but Gary said he was a master barber, and would give the instructions step by step.
Luis brought them a big pair of scissors. The propped up a sheet of polished aluminum to make a mirror, and Gary would run his hand through his hair and stop with the amount he wanted cut off above his closed fingers. It took about an hour. Gibbs was real cautious. When they were done, however, Gary asked Luis if they could use the electric clippers. "No," said the guard, "no outlet." He wasn't about to go to the trouble of running an extension cord. Gary threw the scissors as hard as he could at the tray slot where Luis was standing. It hit the steel door and shattered into pieces. Luis said, "You zon of a beech, Geelmore." Gary started toward the bars. "What did you say?" he asked, The Mexican took off for the front office.
About an hour later, he came back with a deputy and a plastic Zip-Lok bag. Luis handed it through the window and told Gary, "Put broke pieces een sack." Gary did it. He had cooled down quite a bit.
"I've probably blown Nicole's visits," he said, "that's all that really has any meaning to me." Gibbs said, "Wait until six when Big Jake comes on." "They can put me in the hole," Gary said, "just so long as they don't stop me from seeing Nicole."
When Big Jake came over, he was laughing. "You scared Luis so bad with them scissors," he said, "that he shit tacos clear out to the front desk."
Big Jake and Gary got along. He and Alex Hunt were the only jailers Gary had respect for. Because they had no fear. Shortly after Gary came to the prison, a couple of big dudes in the main tank tried to jump Jake and pull an escape. Jake beat them halfway to death.
One good-looking, well-built Swede from Montana. He was confident, all right. There was an order put out by Captain Cahoon that when Nicole came to visit Gary, a call was to be put in for a patrol car. That way a couple of extra cops would be around the jail.
Every guard did this but Jake and Alex. Neither of them needed extra help.
Now Gary explained in a real sincere tone of voice what had happened.
He told Big Jake he was in the wrong for losing his temper.
Went on to say he would accept his punishment, but hoped they wouldn't take away his visiting privileges. Big Jake said it was up to Captain Cahoon, but he would talk to him personally. Maybe replacing the broken scissors would be sufficient. Gibbs spoke up. "If that's what it takes to mend things," he said, "use some money from my account."
"Gibbs," asked Gilmore, "have you ever heard of Ralph Waldo Emerson?"
"No."
"He was a writer, and he made a statement you and me live by. Emerson said, 'Life is not so short that there is not always time for courtesy.' "
They put in a big fellow with them. He was an ex-paratrooper about six-three, 250 pounds, named Bart Powers. He had walloped a kid in the main tank that morning.
When Powers entered the cell, his first words were "Which one of you guys is Gilmore?" It popped out so loud and so tough that Gibbs thought Powers had come to sell a Wolf ticket. He got off his bunk immediately, and went over to the toilet in order to get behind him.
Gary's eyes lifted from the letter he was writing, and he said real cool, "I'm Gilmore. Why do you want to know?"
It could have been hypnosis. Gary must have given him a dose of psychic powers. Gibbs could see Bart Powers lose his peace of mind.
In a meek tone, Bart said, "The guys in the main tank said to tell you 'Hi.' " It was all Gibbs could do to keep from snickering. Powers said "Hi" like a kid in school.
The new arrival stayed good. Kept to himself, read a book, made no trouble. Gibbs could see Gary getting agitated, however. There had been a deal talked about with Big Jake to bring Nicole in for a night. Jake had seen a saddle he wanted to buy. It would probably cost $100, but Gibbs thought he might be able to get the sum together. The deal was still very much in the unmade stage, but they had been thinking on it. Now, the presence of Powers would kill it.
Luis came by, and said through the bars, "Pow-ass, vy you heet a choovenile? He vuz just a keed, Pow-ass." Then he left.
Gilmore and Gibbs cracked up. They started to look at Powers and then they would laugh. "He vuz just a keed, Pow-ass," they would say, "just a keed." Then they would laugh again. Bart Powers looked like he hated it. Only he wasn't about to speak up, Gibbs noticed.
Powers had no cigarettes, so Gibbs flipped him a pack. "You don't owe me nothing," said Gibbs. "You could never pay me back, therefore I'm giving it to you."
"You've met a generous man," said Gilmore, looking Powers over, and added, "That's a nice-looking shirt you're wearing."
"Thanks," said Powers.
"I'd like to buy it," said Gary.
"It's the only shirt I got."
"Well, man," said Gary, "I'm going to trial soon, you see, and man, I want to appear in Court in proper attire, you know."
"I couldn't sell this shirt, why, it's a gift from my girl friend."
"I'll give you mucho cigarettes for it," said Gary. There was a nod from Gibbs. It would be Gibbs's carton.
"The shirt's all I got," said Powers.
"Give back the pack I just threw you," said Gibbs. Powers did.
Quickly.
"He vuz just a keed," said Gilmore.
They roared in Powers' face.
That evening, Gary said, "Nothing personal, but this cell is too crowded for three. I think it's in your best interest, Powers, to tell the man you can't get along in here." Gary looked as serious as a heart attack. "Tell him if he don't move you out tonight, I'll kill you."
Powers started yelling for Big Jake. "Nothing personal," Gary whispered.
"Oh, you want out?" said Big Jake. "Ready to go to Isolation? What's the matter, Powers? Can't smack these two around, huh? Can't say, 'Go back to your bunk 'cause I'm tired of looking at your face'? They don't play around, do they?" He nodded at Gilmore and Gibbs. "All right, I'll move you to the hole, Powers. Gary, here, has two murder charges. He don't need no more."
"Just get me out," said Powers. "Just put me in the hole."
After the transfer, Big Jake said, "I'd like to bring him here some night, and have you guys work on him. We can't do it, and he could sure use it."
Gibbs knew Gary didn't want to say no. It would hurt future negotiations for getting Nicole into his cell. Still, Gary said, "I won't, Jake. Powers is a prisoner like me. I can't work for you guys."
"Well," said Big Jake, "that's cool."
Next morning, they took Gary over to the nuthouse for a psychiatric, and he came back late for lunch. Big Jake gave him a Ding-Dong extra from the kitchen consisting of a double sandwich and a couple of pickles, plus a piece of fresh fruit. Gary said, "Hey, I really appreciate that."
Big Jake said, "Don't bother, Gary, it's not mine to do you a real favor."
They got playful that afternoon. A nothing-to-lose kind of mood.
Some pats of butter were left from Gibbs's midday meal, and they decided to flip the stuff through the bars. The idea was to see who could make the biggest splotch on the corridor wall.
Luis came back to investigate the laughter. "Geelmore and Geebs," he said, "you mees meal!" He got two trustees to clean up, and Geelmore and Geebs laughed so hard they got stomach cramps.
"Luis," said Gary, "is a tad bit retarded."
No dinner was served that evening. Around eight-thirty Luis came back with a pot of coffee looking like he felt a little sorry for them.
Gary asked, "Luis, are you married?"
The guard nodded.
"Do you have any naked pictures of your wife?"
Luis was shocked. "No," he answered.
"Well," said Gary, "do you want to buy some?"
It took a couple of seconds. Then Luis shouted, "Geelmore, Geebs, I tired of your chit!" He slammed the door in the corridor.
Goddamn, thought Gibbs, that wetback is the only toy we got.
Chapter 25
INSANITY
Would he, at least, testify for Gary in the Mitigation Hearing, Snyder and Esplin asked.
Yes, said Woods, he could find his way clear to doing that. But, he warned, with the best will in the world, what could he offer in good professional conscience that the District Attorney would not be able to reduce?
They did not ask him if he liked Gary, and if they had, he might not have replied, but the answer he could have given was, Yes, I think I do like Gary. I may even like him a little more than I want to.
Woods felt he understood a few of Gilmore's obsessions. Getting up in the middle of the trestle and racing the train or standing on the railing of the top tier in prison were impulses familiar to Woods. He sometimes believed he had gone into psychiatry so one hand could keep a grip on the other.
Hell, if Gilmore were a free man, Woods might have taken him on a rock climb. That is, he might have, if he were still doing it.
Woods felt again the swoop of his last long fall on an ice face. That had ended climbing. The guy with him had almost been killed in a crevasse. So Woods knew the depression that came when you ceased making crazy bets. He also knew the logic to making them in the first place. No psychic reward might be so powerful as winning a dare with yourself.
If you were really scared, and went through it, and came out on the other side intact, then it was hard not to believe for a little while that you were on the side of the gods. It felt as if you could do no wrong. Time slowed. You were no longer doing it. For good or ill, it was doing it. You had entered the logic of that other scheme where death and life had as many relations as Yin and Yang.
That was the identification Woods felt. Gilmore had also felt compelled to take a chance with his life. Gilmore had been keeping in touch with something it was indispensable to be in touch with.
Woods knew all about that, and it depressed him. Looking back on the times he had seen Gilmore at the hospital, he felt uneasy at the reserve he had maintained between them, even felt shame that he had never had a real conversation with the man.