 section 52 of prison memoirs of an anarchist this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Chuck Williamson prison memoirs of an anarchist by Alexander Berkman part 2 chapter 45 the bloom of the barren staff one it is September the 19th the cell house is silent and gray in the afternoon dusk and the yard the rain walks with heavy strides hastening wither the shadows have gone I stand at the door in reverie in the somber light I see myself led through the gate yonder it was ten years ago this day the walls towered menacingly in the dark the iron gripped my heart and I was lost in despair I should not have believed then that I could survive the long years of misery and pain but the nimble feet of the rain patter hopefully its tears dissipate the clouds and bring light and soon I shall step into the sunshine and come forth grown and matured as the world must have grown in the struggle of suffering fresh fish a range man announces pointing to the long line of striped men trudging dejectedly across the yard and stumbling against one another and the unaccustomed lockstep the door opens and Alec Collane the lifetimer motions to me he walks with measured even step along the hall range man cause and Harry my young assistant stealthily crowd with him into my cell the air of mystery about them arouses my apprehension what's the matter boys I ask they hesitate and glance at each other smiling definitely you speak Collane Harry whispers the lifetimer carefully unwraps a little package and I become aware of the sweet scent of flowers perfuming the cell the old prisoner stammer's in confusion as he presents me with a rose big and red we swiped it in the greenhouse he says for you Alec Harry adds for your 10th anniversary corrects cause good luck to you Alec mutely they grip my hand and steal out of the cell in solitude I muse over the touching remembrance these men they are the shame society hides within the gray walls these and others like them daily they come to be buried alive in this cell all through the long years they have been coming and the end is not yet robbed of joy in life their being is discounted in the economy of existence and all the while the world has been advancing it is said science and philosophy art and letters have made great strides but we're in is the improvement that augments misery and crowds the prisons the discovery of the x-ray will further scientific research I am told but where is the x-ray of social insight that will discover in human understanding and mutual aid the elements of true progress deceptive is the advance that involves the ruthless sacrifice of peace and health and life superficial and unstable the civilization that rests upon the treacherous sands of strife and warfare the progress of science and industry far from promoting man's happiness and social harmony merely accentuates discontent and sharpens the contrasts the knowledge gained at so much cost of suffering and sacrifice spares bitter fruit for lack of wisdom to apply the lessons learned there are no limits to the achievements of man or not humanity divided against itself exhausting its best energies and sanguinary conflict suicidal and unnecessary and these the thousands stepmothered by cruel stupidity are the victims castigated by society for her own folly and sins there is young Harry a child of the slums he has never known the touch of a loving hand motherless his father a drunkard the heavy arm of the law was laid upon him at the age of ten from reform school to reformatory the social orphan has been driven about you know Alec he says I never had no real square meal to feel full you know except once on Christmas and a ref at the age of 19 he has not seen a day of liberty since early childhood three years ago he was transferred to the penitentiary under a sentence of 16 years for an attempted escape from the Morganza reform school which resulted in the death of a keeper the ladder was foreman in the tailor shop in which Harry was employed together with a number of other youths the officer had induced Harry to do overwork above the regular task for which he rewarded the boy with an occasional dainty of buttered bread or a piece of corn cake by degrees Harry's voluntary effort became part of his routine work and the reward and delicacies came more rarely but when they entirely ceased the boy rebelled refusing to exert himself above the required task he was reported but the superintendent censured the keeper for the unauthorized increase of work Harry was elated but presently began systematic persecution that made the boys life daily more unbearable in innumerable ways the hostile guards sought to revenge his defeat upon the lad till at last driven in desperation Harry resolved upon escape with several other inmates the 14 year-old boy planned to flee to the Rocky Mountains there to hunt the wild Indians and live the independent and carefree life of Jesse James you know Alec Harry confides to me reminiscing Lee you could have made it easy it was 11 of us but the kids was all sore and deformed and he abused and beat us and some of the boys wouldn't go except we knocked a screw out first it was me pal Nacky that hit him foist good and hard and didn't I hit him lightly but they all said in court that I hit him both times Nacky's people had money and he beat the case but I got soaked 16 years his eyes fill with tears and he says plaintively I haven't been outside since I was a little kid now I'm sick and we'll die here maybe too conversing in low tones we sweep the range I shortened my strokes to enable Harry to keep pace weekly he drags the broom across the floor his appearance is pitifully grotesque the sickly features pale with the color of the prison whitewash resemble a little child's but the eyes look oldish in the wrinkled sockets his head painfully out of proportion with the puny stunted body now and again he turns his gaze on me and in his face there is a melancholy wonder as if he is seeking something that has passed him by often I ponder is there a crime more appealing and heinous than the one society has committed upon him who is neither man nor youth and never was child crushed by the heel of brutality the plant had never budded yet there is the making of a true man in him his mentality is pathetically primitive but he possesses character in courage and latent virgin forces his emotional frankness borders on the incredible he is unmoorl and unsocial as a field daisy might be surrounded by giant trees yet timidly tenacious of its own being it distresses me to witness the yearning that comes into his eyes at the mention of the outside often chance he reiterates he'd be so careful not to get into trouble he would like to keep company with a nice girl he confides blushingly he had never had one but he fears his days are numbered his lungs are getting very bad and now that his father has died he has no one to help him get a pardon perhaps father wouldn't have helped him either he was always drunk and never cared for his children he had no business to have any children Harry comments passionately and he can't expect any assistance from his sister the poor girl barely makes a living in the factory she's been working ever so long in the pickle works Harry explains that fella the boss there must be rich it's a big factory he adds naively he ought to give her enough to marry on but he figures he will die in prison there is no one to aid him and he has no friends I never had no friend he says wistfully there ain't no real friends the older boys and the rafts always used me and they used all the kids but they was no friends and everyone was against me and a court and they put all the blame on me everybody was always against me he repeats bitterly alone in the cell I ponder over his words everyone was always against me I hear the boys say I wake at night with the quivering cry in the darkness everybody against me motherless in childhood reared in the fumes of brutal inebriation cast into the slums to be crushed under the wheels of Law's juggernaut was the fate of this social orphan is this the fruit of progress this the spirit of our Christian civilization and the hours of solitude the scheme of existence unfolds and kaleidoscope before me in variegated design and divergent angle it presents an endless panorama of stunted minds and tortured bodies of universal misery and wretchedness in the elemental aspect of the boys desolate life and I beheld all the suffering and agony resolve themselves in the dominance of the established and tradition and custom that heavily in crust humanity weighing down the already fettered soul till its wings break and it beats helplessly against the artificial barriers the blanched face of misery is silhouetted against the night the silent sobs with the piteous cry of the crushed boy and I hear the cry and it fills my whole being with the sense of terrible wrong and injustice with the shame of my kind that sheds crocodile tears while it swallows its helpless prey the submerged moan in the dark I will echo their agony to the ears of the world I have suffered with them I have looked into the heart of pain and with its voice and anguish I will speak to humanity to wake it from sloth and apathy and lend hope to despair the month speed in preparation for the great work I must equip myself for the mission for the combat with the world that struggles so desperately to defend its chains the day of my resurrection is approaching and I will devote my new life to the service of my fellow sufferers the world shall hear the tortured it shall behold the shame it has buried within these walls yet not eliminated the ghosts of its crime shall rise and harrow its ears till the social conscience is roused to the cry of its victims and perhaps with eyes once opened it will behold the misery and suffering in the world beyond and man will pause in a strife and mad race to ask himself where for wither end of section 52 section 53 of prison memoirs of an anarchist this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by John Brandon prison memoirs of an anarchist by Alexander Birkman part 2 chapter 46 a trial's heart hunger with deep gratification I observed the unfoldment of Harry's mind my friendship has wakened in him hope and interested life merely to please me he smilingly reiterated he would apply himself to reading the mapped out course but as time passed he became absorbed in the studies developing a thirst for knowledge that is transforming his primitive intelligence into a mentality of great power and character often I marvel at the peculiar strength and aspirations springing from the depths of a prison friendship I do not believe in friendship Alec Harry says as we ply our brooms in the day's work but now I feel that I wouldn't be here if I had had then a real friend it wasn't only that we suffer together but you have made me feel that our minds can rise above these rules and bars you know the screws have warned me against you and I was afraid of you I didn't know how to put it Alec but the first time we had that long talk last year I felt as if something walked right over from you to me and since then I've had something to live for you know I have seen so much of the priests I have no use for the church and I don't believe in immortality but the idea I got from you clung to me and it was so persistent I really think there is such a thing as immortality of an idea for an instant the old look of helpless wonder is in his face as if he is at a loss to master the thought he pauses in his work his eyes fastened on mine I got it Alec he says an eager smile lighting up his pallid features you remember the story you told me about them fellers oh he quickly corrects himself when I get excited I drop into my former bad English well you know the story you told me of the prisoners in Siberia how they escape sometimes and the peasants though forbidden to house them but food outside of their huts so that an escaped man may not starve to death you remember Alec yes harry I'm glad you haven't forgotten it forgotten why Alec a few weeks ago sitting at my door I saw a sparrow hopping about in the hall it looked cold and hungry I threw a piece of bread to it but the warden came by and made me pick it up and drive the bird away somehow I thought of the peasants in Siberia and how they share their food with escaped men why should the bird starve so long as I have bread now every night I place a few pieces near the door and in the morning just when it begins to dawn and everyone is asleep the bird steals up and gets her breakfast it's the immortality of an idea Alec part two the inclement weather has laid a heavy hand upon harry the foul hot air of the cell house is aggravating his complaint and now the physician has pronounced him in an advanced stage of consumption the disease is ravaging the population hygienic rules are ignored and no precautions are taken against contagion harry's health is fast failing he walks with an evident effort but bravely straightens as he meets my gaze I feel quite strong alec he says I don't believe it's the con it's just a bad cold he clings tenaciously to this slender hope but now and then the cunning of suspicion tests my faith pretending to wash his hands he asks can I use your towel alec sure you're not afraid my apparent confidence seems to allay his fears and he visibly rallies with renewed hope I strive to lighten his work on the range and his friend cause who attends the officer's table shares with the sick boy the scraps of fruit and cake left after their meals the kind hearted italian serving a sentence of 20 years spends his leisure weaving hair chains in the dim light of the cell and invests the proceeds in warm underwear for his consumptive friend I don't need it myself I'm too hot bluttered anyhow he lightly waves aside harry's objections he shutters as the hollow cough shakes the feeble frame and anxiously hovers over the boy mothering him with unobtrusive tenderness at the first sign of spring cos conspires with me to procure for harry the privilege of the yard the consumptives are deprived of air imured in the shop or block and in the evening locked in the cells in view of my long service and the shortness of my remaining time the inspectors have promised me 15 minutes exercise in the yard I have not touched the soil since the discovery of the tunnel in July 1900 almost four years ago but harry is in greater need of fresh air and perhaps we shall be able to procure the privilege for him instead his health would improve and in the meantime we will bring his case before the pardon board it was an outrage to send him to the penitentiary cause asserts vehemently harry was barely 14 then a mere child think of a judge who will give such a kid 16 years why it means death but what can you expect remember the little boy who was sent here it was somewhere around 97 he was just 12 years old and he didn't look more than 10 they brought him here in knickerbockers and the fellows had to bend over double to keep in lockstep with him he looked just like a baby in the line the first pair of long pants he ever put on was stripes and he was so frightened he'd stand at the door and cry all the time well they got ashamed of themselves after a while and sent him away to some reformatory but he spent about six months here then well what's the use talking cause concludes hopelessly it's a rotten world all right but maybe we can get harry pardon honest alec i feel as if he's my own child we've been friends since the day he came in and he's a good boy only he never had a chance make a list alec i'll ask the chaplain how much i've gotten the office i think it's 22 or maybe 23 dollars it's all for harry the spring warms into summer before the diamond quarter donations total the amount required by the attorney to carry harry's case to the pardon board but the sick boy is missing from the range for weeks his dry hacking cough resounded in the night keeping the men awake till at last the doctor ordered him transferred to the hospital his place on the range has been taken by big swede a tall shallow faced man who shuffles along the hall moaning in pain the passing guards mimic him and poke him jocularly in the ribs hey you get a move on and quit your shaman he starts in a fright pressing both hands against his side he shrinks at the officer's touch you faker we're next to you all right an uncomprehending sickly smile spreads over the seer face as he murmurs plaintively yes sir me seek very seek end of section 53 recording by john brandon section 54 of prison memoirs of an anarchist this is a libra vox recording all libra vox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libra vox.org recording by john brandon prison memoirs of an anarchist by alexander berkman part two chapter 47 chum the able-bodied men have been withdrawn to the shops and only the old and decrepit remain in the cell house but even the light duties of assistant prove too difficult for the swede the guards insist that he shamming every night he's placed in a straight jacket and gagged his stifle his groans i protest against the mistreatment and am cited to the office the deputy's desk is occupied by bighead the officer of the hosiery department now promoted to the position of second assistant deputy he greets me with a malicious grin i knew you wouldn't behave he chuckles know you too damn well from the stocking shop the gigantic colonel the new deputy loose jointed and broad strolls in with long swinging step he glances over the report against me is that all he inquires of the guard in cold impassive voice yes sir go back to your work berkman but in the afternoon officer bighead struts into the cell house in charge of the barber gang as i take my turn in the first chair the guard hastens toward me get out of that chair he commands it ain't your turn you take that chair pointing toward the second barber a former boiler maker dreaded by the men as a butcher it is my turn in this chair i reply keeping my seat that's so mr officer the negro barber chimes in shut up the officer bellows will you get out of that chair he advances towards me threateningly i won't a retort looking him squarely in the eye suppressed giggling passes along the waiting line the keeper turns purple and strides toward the office to report me part two this is awful alec i'm so sorry you're locked up you were in the right to cause whispers at my cell but never mind old boy he smiles reassuringly you can count on me all right and you've got other friends here's a stiff someone send you he wants an answer right away i'll call for it the note mystifies me the large bold writing is unfamiliar i cannot identify the signature jim m the contents of puzzling his sympathies are with me the writer says he has learned all the details of the trouble and feels that i acted in the defense of my rights it is an outrage to lock me up for resenting undeserved humiliation at the hands of an unfriendly guard and he cannot bear to see me thus persecuted my time is short and the present trouble if not corrected may cause the loss of my commutation he will immediately appeal to the warden to do me justice but he should like to hear from me before taking action i wonder at the identity of the writer evidently not a prisoner intercession with the warden would be out of the question yet i cannot account for any officer who would take this attitude or employ such means of communicating with me presently cause soldiers pass the cell got your answer ready he whispers who gave you the note cause i don't know if i should tell you of course you must tell me i won't answer this note unless i know to whom i'm writing well alec he hesitates he didn't say if i may tell you then better go and ask him first considerable time elapses before cause returns from the delay i judge that the man is in a distant part of the institution and not easily accessible at last the kindly face of the italian appears at the cell it's all right alec he says who is he i ask impatiently i'll bet you'll never guess tell me then well i'll tell you he's not a screw can't be a prisoner no who then he's a fine fellow alec come now tell me he's a citizen the foreman of the new shop the weaving department that's the man here's another stiff from him answer it once part three dear mr jm i hardly know how to write to you it is the most remarkable thing that has happened to me in all the years of my confinement to think that you a perfect stranger and not a prisoner at that should offer to intercede in my behalf because you feel that an injustice has been done it is almost incredible but cause has informed me that you are determined to see the warden in this matter i assure you i appreciate your sense of justice more than i can express it but i most urgently request you not to carry out your plan with the best of intentions your intercession will prove disastrous to yourself as well as to me a shop foreman you are not supposed to know what is happening in the block the warden is a martin net an extremely vain of his authority he will resent your interference i don't know who you are but your indignation at what you believe in injustice characterizes you as a man of principle and you are evidently inclined to be friendly toward me i should be very unhappy to be the cause of your discharge you need your job or you would not be here i am very very thankful to you but i urge you most earnestly to drop the matter i must fight my own battles moreover the situation is not very serious and i shall come out all right with much appreciation a b dear mr. m i feel much relieved by your promise to exceed to my request it is best so you need not worry about me i expect to receive a hearing before the deputy and he seems a decent chap you will pardon me when i confess that i smiled at your question whether your correspondence is welcome your notes are a ray of sunshine in the darkness and i am intensely interested in the personality of a man whose sense of justice transcends considerations of personal interest you know no great heroism is required to demand justice for oneself in the furtherance of our own advantage but where the other fellow is concerned especially a stranger it becomes a question of abstract justice and but few people possess the manhood to jeopardize their reputation or comfort for that since our correspondence began i have had occasion to speak to some of the men in your charge i want to thank you in their name for your considerate and humane treatment of them cause is at the door and i must hurry trust no one with notes except him we have been friends for years and he can tell you all you wish to know about my life here cordially be dear mr. m there is no need whatever for your anxiety regarding the effects of the solitary upon me i do not think they will keep me in long at any rate remember that i do not wish you to intercede he will be pleased to know that my friend harry shows signs of improvement thanks to your generosity cause has managed to deliver to him the tidbits and wine you sent you know the story of the boy he has never known the love of a mother nor the care of a father a typical child of the disinherited he was thrown almost in infancy upon the tender mercies of the world at the age of ten the law declared him a criminal he has never since seen a day of liberty at 20 he's dying of prison consumption was the spanish inquisition ever guilty of such organized child murder with desperate willpower he clutches at life in the hope of a pardon he is firmly convinced that fresh air would cure him but the new rules confine him to the hospital his friends here have collected a fund to bring his case before the pardon board it is to be heard next month that devoted soul cause has induced the doctor to issue a certificate of harry's critical condition and he may be released soon i have grown very fond of the boy so much sinned against i have watched his heart and mind blossom in the sunshine of a little kindness and now i hope that at least his last wish will be granted just wants to walk on the street and not hear the harsh command of the guard he begs me to express to his unknown friend his deepest gratitude be dear m the deputy has just released me i am happy with the double happiness for i know how pleased you will be at the good turn of events it is probably due to the fact that my neighbor the big swede you've heard about him was found dead in the street jacket this morning the doctor and officers all along pretended that he was shamming it was a most cruel murder by the warden's order the sixth swede was kept gagged and bound every night i understand that the deputy opposed such brutal methods and now it is rumored that he intends to resign but i hope he will remain there is something big and broad-minded about the gigantic colonel he tries to be fair and he has saved many a prisoner from the cruelty of the major the latter is continually inventing new modes of punishment it is characteristic that his methods involve curtailment of rations and consequent saving which is not accounted for on the books he has recently cut the milk allowance of the hospital patients notwithstanding the protests of the doctor he has also introduced severe punishment for talking you know when you have not uttered a word for days and weeks you are often seized with uncontrollable desire to give that to your feelings these infractions of the rules are now punished by depriving you of tobacco and of your sunday dinner every sunday from 30 to 50 men are locked up on the top range to remain without food all day the system is called kill cure kill or cure and it involves considerable graft for i know numbers of men who have not received tobacco or a sunday dinner for months warden william johnston seems innately cruel recently he introduced the blind cell door covered with solid sheet iron it is much worse than the basket cell for it virtually admits no air and men are kept in it from 30 to 60 days prisoner varnell was locked up in such a cell 79 days becoming paralyzed but even worse than these punishments is the more refined brutality of torturing the boys with the uncertainty of release and the increasing deprivation of good time this system is developing insanity to an alarming extent amid all this heartlessness and cruelty the chaplain is a refreshing oasis of humanity i noticed in one of your letters the expression because of economic necessity and i wondered to be sure the effects of economic causes are not to be underestimated but the extremist of the materialistic conception discount character and thus helped to videate it the factor of personality is too often ignored by men take the chaplain for instance in spite of the surrounding swamp of cupidity and brutality notwithstanding all disappointment and ingratitude he is today after 30 years of incumbency as full of faith in human nature and as sympathetic and helpful as years ago he has had to contend against the various administrations and he is a poor man necessity has not stifled his innate kindness and this is why i wondered economic necessity has socialism pierced the prison walls be dear dear comrade can you realize how your words i am socialistically inclined warmed my heart i wish i could express to you all the intensity of what i feel my dear friend and comrade to have so unexpectedly found both in you unutterably lightens this miserable existence what matter that you do not entirely share my views we are comrades in the common cause of human emancipation it was indeed well worthwhile getting in trouble to have found you my dear friend truly i have good cause to be content even happy your friendship is a source of great strength and i feel equal to struggling through the 10 months encouraged and inspired by your comradeship and devotion every evening i cross the date off my calendar joyous with the thought that i am a day nearer to the precious moment when i shall turn my back upon these walls to join my friends in the great work and to meet you dear chum face to face to grip your hand and salute you my friend and comrade most fraternally alex end of section 54 recording by john brandon section 55 a prison memoirs of an anarchist this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by john brandon prison memoirs of an anarchist by alexander berkman part two chapter 48 last days on the home stretch sabrosa april 15th 1905 my dear girl the last spring here and as long as in my heart only three more months and i shall have settled accounts with father penn there is the year in the workhouse of chorus and that prison i am told is even a worse hell than this one but i feel strong with the suffering that has passed and perhaps even more so with the wonderful jewel i have found the man i mentioned in former letters has proved the most beautiful soul and sincere friend in every possible way he has been trying to make my existence more adorable with what little he may he says he wants to make amends for the injustice and brutality of society he is a socialist with a broad outlook upon life our lengthy discussions her notes afford me many moments of pleasure and joy it is chiefly to his exertions that i shall owe my commutation time the sentiment of the inspectors was not favorable i believe it was intended to deprive me of two years good time think what it would mean to us but my friend my dear chum as i affectionately call him has quietly but persistently been at work with the result that the inspectors have seen the light it is now definite that i shall be released in july the date is still uncertain i can barely realize that i am soon to leave this place the anxiety and restlessness of the last month would be almost unbearable but for the soothing presence of my devoted friend i hope someday you will meet him perhaps even soon for he is not of the quality that can long remain a helpless witness of the torture of men he wants to work in the broader field where he may join hands with those who strive to reconstruct the conditions that are bulwarked with prison bars but while necessity forces him to remain here his character is in evidence he devotes his time and means to lightening the burden of the prisoners his generous interest kept my sick friend harry alive in the hope of the pardon you will be saddened to hear that the board refused to release him on the ground that he was not sufficiently ill the poor boy who had never been out of the sight of a guard since he was a child of ten died a week after the pardon was refused but though my chum could not give freedom to harry he was instrumental in saving another young life from the hands of the hangman it was the case of young paul typical of prison as the nursery of crime the youth was forced to work alongside of a man who persecuted and abused him because he resented improper advances repeatedly paul begged the warden to transfer him to another department but his appeals were ignored the two prisoners worked in the bakery early one morning left alone the man attempted to violate the boy in the struggle that followed the former was killed the prison management was determined to hang the lad in the interest of discipline the officers openly avowed they would fix his clock permission for a collection to engage an attorney for paul was refused prisoners who spoke in his behalf were severely punished the boy was completely isolated preparatory to his trial he stood absolutely helpless alone but the dear chum came to the rescue of paul the work had to be done secretly and it was a most difficult task to secure witnesses for the defense among the prisoners terrorized by the guards but chum threw himself into the work with heart and soul day and night he labored to give the boy a chance for his life he almost broke down before the ordeal was over what the boy was saved the jury acquitted him on the ground of self-defense the proximity of release if only to change cells is nerve-wracking in the extreme but even the mere change will be a relief meanwhile my faithful friend does everything in his power to help me bear the strain besides ministering to my physical comforts he generously supplies me with books and publications it helps to while away the leaden healed days and keeps me abreast of the world's work the chum is enthusiastic over the growing strength of socialism and we often discuss this subject with much vigor it appears to me however that the socialist anxiety for success is by degrees perverting essential principles it is with very much sorrow i have learned that political activity formally viewed merely as a means of spreading socialist ideas has gradually become an end in itself straining from political power weakens the fibers of character and ideals daily contact with authority has strengthened my conviction that control of the governmental power is an illusory remedy for social evils inevitable consequences of false conceptions are not to be legislated out of existence it is not merely the conditions but the fundamental ideas of present civilization that are to be transvalued to give place to new social and individual relations the emancipation of labor is the necessary first step along the road of a regenerated humanity but even that can be accomplished only through the awakened consciousness of the toilers acting on their own initiative and strength on these and other points chum differs with me but his intense friendship knows no intellectual distinctions he is to visit you during his august vacation i know you will make him feel my gratitude for i can never repay his boundless devotion sasha dearest chum it seemed as if all aspiration and hope suddenly went out of my life when you disappeared so mysteriously i was tormented by the fear of some disaster your return has filled me with joy and i am happy to know that you heard and responded unhesitatingly to the call of his sacred cause i greatly envy your activity in the p circle the revolution in russia has stirred me to the very depths the giant is awakening the mute giant that has suffered so patiently voicing his misery and agony only in the anguish laden song and on the pages of his gorkies dear friend you remember our discussion regarding plevy i may have been in error when i expressed the view that the execution of the monster encouraging sign of individual revolutionary activity as it was could not be regarded as a manifestation of social awakening but the present uprising undoubtedly points to widespread rebellion permeating russian life yet it would probably be too optimistic to hope for a very radical change i have been absent from my native land for many years but in my youth i was close to the life and thought of the peasant large heavy bodies move slowly the proletariat of the cities have shortly become impregnated with revolutionary ideas but the vital elements of russia is the agrarian population i fear moreover that the dominant reaction is still very strong though it has no doubt been somewhat weakened by the discontent manifesting in the army and especially in the navy with all my heart i hope that the revolution will be successful perhaps a constitution is the most we can expect but whatever the result the bare fact of a revolution in long suffering russia is a tremendous inspiration i should be the happiest of men to join in the glorious struggle long live the revolution hey dear chum thanks for your kind offer i'm absolutely opposed to having any steps taken to eliminate the workhouse sentence i have served these many years and i shall survive one more i will ask no favors of the enemy they will even twist their own law to deprive me of the five months good time to which i am entitled on the last year i understand that i shall be allowed only two months off on the preposterous ground that the new workhouse term constitutes the first year of a new sentence but i do not wish you to trouble about the matter you have more important work to do give all your energies to the good cause prepare the field for the mission of tchaikovsky and babushka and i shall be with you in spirit when you embrace our brave comrades of the russian revolution whose dear names were a hollow treasure of my youth may success reward the efforts of our brothers in russia hey chum just got word from the deputy that my papers are signed i didn't wish to cause you anxiety but i was apprehensive of some hitch but it's positive and settled now i go out on the 19th just one more week this is the happiest day in 13 years shake comrade hey dearest chum my hand trembles as i write this last goodbye i'll be gone in an hour my heart is too full for words please send enclosed notes to my friends and embrace them all as i embrace you now i shall live in the hope of meeting you all next year goodbye dear devoted friend with my whole heart your comrade and chum july 19 1905 dearest girl it's wednesday morning the 19th at last kei stiller minds herzen schlag und schleist uck all mein alten wunden denn dies ist ist mein letzter tag und dies sind sein letzten stunden my last thoughts within these walls are of you my dear dear sonja the immutable sasha end of section 55 recording by john brandon section 56 of prison memoirs of an anarchist this is a libravox recording all libravox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org recording by john brandon prison memoirs of an anarchist by alexander berkman heart three chapter 49 the workhouse the gates of the penitentiary open to leave me out and i pause involuntarily at the fascinating site it is a street a line of houses stretches before me a woman young and wonderfully sweet-faced is passing on the opposite side my eyes follow her graceful lines as she turns the corner men stand about they wear civilian clothes and scan me with curious insistent gaze the handcuff grows taught on my wrist and i follow the sheriff into the waiting carriage a little child runs by i lean out of the window to look at the rosy cheeked strangely youthful faiths but the guard impatiently lowers the blind and resetting gloomy darkness the spell of the civilian garb is upon me he gives an exhilarating sense of manhood again and again i glance at my clothes and verify the numerous pockets to reassure myself of the reality of the situation i am free past the dismal gray walls free yet even now captive of the law the law the engine huffs and shrieks and my mind speeds back to another journey it was 13 years and one week ago this day on the wings of an all-absorbing love i hasten to join the struggle of the oppressed people i left home and friends sacrificed liberty and risked life but human justice is blind it will not see the soul on fire only the shot was heard by the law that is deaf to the agony of toil vengeance is mine at seath to the uttermost drop it will shed the blood to exact its full pound of flesh 12 years and 10 months and still another year what horrors await me at the new prison poor faithful horse thief will never more smile his greeting he did not survive six months in the terrible workhouse but my spirit is strong i shall not be daunted this garb is the visible tangible token of resurrection the devotion of staunch friends will solace and cheer me the call of the great cause will give strength to live to struggle to conquer part two humiliation overwhelms me as i don the loathed suit of striped black and gray the insolent look of the guard rouses my bitter resentment as he closely scrutinizes my naked body but presently the examination over a sense of gratification steals over me at the assertiveness of my self-respect the ordeal of the day's routine is full of inexpressible anguish accustomed to prison conditions i yet find existence in the workhouse a nightmare of cruelty infinitely worse than the most inhumane aspects of the penitentiary the guards are surly and brutal the food foul and inadequate punishment for the slightest defense instantaneous and ruthless the cells are even smaller than in the penitentiary and contain neither chair nor table they are unspeakably ill smelling with the privy buckets for the purposes of which no scrap of waste paper is allowed the sole ablutions of the day are performed in the morning when the men form in the hall and march past the spigot of running water snatching a handful in the constantly moving line absolute silence prevails in cell house and shop the slightest motion of the lips is punished with the blackjack or the dungeon referred to with caustic satire as the white house the perverse logic of the law that visits the utmost limit of barbarity upon men admittedly guilty of minor transgressions throughout the breath of the land the workhouses are notoriously more atrocious in every respect than the penitentiaries and state prisons in which are confined men convicted of felonies the Allegheny county workhouse of the great commonwealth of pennsylvania enjoys infamous distinction as the blackest of hells where men expiate the sins of society at work in the broom shop i find myself in peculiarly familiar surroundings the cupidity of the management has evolved methods even more inhuman than those obtaining in the state prison the tasks imposed upon the men necessitate feverish exertion insufficient product or deficient work is not palliated by physical inability or illness in the conduct of the various industries every artifice prevalent in the penitentiary is practiced to evade the law limiting convict competition the number of men employed in productive work by far exceeds the legally permitted percentage the provisions for the protection of free labor are scalefully circumvented the tags attached to the shop products are designed to be obliterated as soon as the wares have left the prison the words convict made stamped on the broom handles are pasted over with labels giving no indication of the place of manufacture the anti convict labor law symbolic of the political achievements of labor is frustrated at every point its element of protection a lame and impotent conclusion how significant the travesty of the law in its holy of holies here legal justice emures its victims here are buried the disinherited whose rags and tatters annoy respectability here offenders are punished for breaking the law and here the law is daily and hourly violated by its pious high priests part three the immediate is straining at the leash that holds memory in the environment of the penitentiary yet the veins of the terminated existence still palpitate with the recollection of friends and common suffering the messages from riverside are wet with tears of misery but johnny the young magyar strikes a note of cheer his sentence is about to expire he will devote himself to the support of the little children he had so unwittingly robbed of a father meanwhile he bids me courage and hope in closing two dollars from the proceeds of his fancy work to help along he has much grieved he writes at his inability to bid me a last farewell because the warden refused the request signed by 200 prisoners that i be allowed to pass along the tears to say goodbye but soon soon we shall see each other in freedom words of friendship grow brightly in the darkness of the present and charm my visions of the near future coming liberty casts warming rays and i dwell in the atmosphere of my comrades the girl and the trump are aglow with the fires of young russia visually my mind shapes pictures of the great struggle to transplant me to the days of my youth in the little tenement flat in new york we had sketched with bold stroke the fortunes of the world the girl the twin and i in the dark cage-like kitchen amid the smoke of the asthmatic stove we had planned our conspirative work in russia but the need of the hour had willed it otherwise homestead had sounded the prelude of awakening and my heart had echoed the inspiring strains the banked fires of aspiration burst into life what mattered the immediate outcome of the revolution in russia the yearning of my youth wells up with spontaneous power to live is to struggle to struggle against Caesar side by side with the people to suffer with them and to die if need be that is life it will sadden me to part with chum even before i had looked deeply into the devoted face but the girl is a flame with the spirit of russia it will be joyous work in common the soil of mananga healer laden with years of anguish has grown dear to me like the moan of a broken cord wails the thought of departure but no ties of affection will strain at my heart strings yet the sweet face of a little girl breaks in on my reverie a look of reproaching sadness in the large wistful eyes it is little stella the last years of my penitentiary life have snatched many a grace from her charming correspondence often i have sought consolation in the beautiful likeness of her soulful face with mute tenderness she had shared my grief at the loss of harry her lips breathing sweet bomb gray days had warmed at her smile and i lavished upon her all the affection with which i was surcharged it will be a violent stifling of her voice in my heart but the call of the music rings clear compelling yet who knows the revolution may be over before my resurrection in republican russia with her enlightened social protestantism life would be fuller richer than in this pitifully bourgeoisie democracy freedom will present the unaccustomed problem of self-support but it is premature to form definite plans long imprisonment has probably incapacitated me for hard work but i shall find means to earn my simple needs when i have cast off the fetters of my involuntary parasitism the thought of affection the love of woman thrills me with ecstasy and colors my existence with emotions of strange bliss but the solitary hours are filled with recurring dread lest my life forever remain bare of woman's love often the fear possesses me with the intensity of despair as my mind increasingly dwells on the opposite sex thoughts of woman eclipse the memory of the prison affections and the darkness of the present is threaded with the silver needle of love hopes part four the monotony of the routine the degradation and humiliation weigh heavier in the shadow of liberty my strength is failing with the hard task in the shop but the hope of receiving my full commutation sustains me the law allows five months good time on every year beginning with the ninth year of a sentence but the superintendent has intimated to me that i may be granted the benefit of only two months as a new prisoner serving the first year of a workhouse sentence the board of directors will undoubtedly take that view he often taunts me exasperation at his treatment coupled with my protest against the abuse of a fellow prisoner have caused me to be ordered into the solitary dear chum is insistent on legal steps to secure my full commutation notwithstanding my unconditional refusal to resort to the courts he has initiated a sub-rosa campaign to achieve his object the time drags in torturing uncertainty with each day the solitary grows more stifling maddening till my brain reels with terror of the graveyard silence like glad music sounds the stern command exercise in step we circle the yard the clanking of charlie's chain mournfully beating time he had made an unsuccessful attempt to escape for which he is punished with a ball and chain the iron cuts into his ankle and he trudges painfully under the heavy weight near me staggers billy his left side completely paralyzed since he was released from the white house all about me are cripples i am in the midst of the social refuse the lame and the halt the broken in body and spirit past work past even crime these were the blessed of the nazarene these a christian world breaks on the wheel they too are within the scope of my mission they above all others these the living indictments of a leprous system the excommunicated of god and man the threshold of liberty is thickly sown with misery and torment the days are unbearable with nervous restlessness the night's hideous with the hours of agonizing stillness the endless endless hours feverishly i pace the cell the day will pass it must pass with reverent emotion i bless the shamed sun as he dips beyond the western sky one day nearer to the liberty that awaits me with unrestricted sunshine and air and life beyond the hated walls of gray out in the daylight in the open the open world the scent of fresh moan haze in my nostrils green fields and forests stretch before me sweetly ripples the mountain spring up to the mountain crest to the breezes and the sunshine where the storm breaks in its wild fury upon my uncovered head welcome the rain and the wind that sweep the foul prison dust off my heart and blow life and strength into my being trembling rapturous is the thought of freedom out in the woods away from the stench of the cannibal world i shall wander nor lift my foot from soil or sod close to the breath of nature i will press my parched lips on her bosom i will pass my days drinking sustenance and strength from the universal mother and there in liberty and independence in the vision of the mountain peaks i shall voice the cry of the social orphans of the buried and the disinherited and visualize to the living the yearning menacing face of pain end of section 56 recording by john brandon