Chicago State University - Emblem Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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But the adult mind is prone to overestimate and exaggerate, e found that bv rooting-out squares, and by standing every time our number was caled, we were able to make a cross-cut to Liberty without the use of similar triangles. Hey diddle diddle, the next was a riddle. King Cole in cell one hundred ' leveu, By administrating his patented fluid. Was sending poor earthworms to heaven. Our time here was pleasantly spent and we began to wonder if perhaps our punishment was to be lighter than we had expected. Our protoplasm was daily examined our temperature tested, and when we had become profieient m hang- ing keys on the proper hooks, we were passed on to the soulful science. Little Cy Kology, come blow your horn, As Gabriel blow, for these prisoners forlorn. Oh, blow it so loud, and blow it so deep. For it seems every prisoner has gone fast asleep. After peacefully resting amidst instinct and reasoning, we were marched ■ Little Miss Mutfet sat on a piano stool. But she didn ' t sit there very long. For we volleyed and thundered. Up in three hundred— But they say ' ' Even ' soul hath its song. Now, where are you going, my convict niaidT I am going to Art, she perspeetively said. Do you high-light designs, or weave atmosphere? We construct possibilities, nothing else though, I fear. One of the necessary characteristics which we were obliged to cultivate in order to obtain freedom, was agility. , , , Now Jack, be nimble, and Jack, be cute, In a minute and a half, hop into your suit. First polka like babies, then swing clubs like men. With a one, two, and three and a hop out a gain. Oh, yes, we developed an agility wHch would have put lightning change artists to shame. . , „ , t But hist ! Be still ! We approach the tragic side of our dreary lives- Oh where, oh where is the Iliad gone? With a heigh and a lo and a heigh nonney no. ' Tis gone, packed in memory ' s faithless storehouse. Ting-a-ling, sweet students love the spring. Special orders from headquarters, a new jailer suddenly entered our lives. What, was it possible? A new theoiy was now to be put in practice. It was thought that if we learned to move our arms in a different way, for example, ac- cordhig to the Patiner method, our dispositions might be changed. Well, the refonnation was badly needed in most cases. It was See saw, new jailer Dows (pronounced Daws) The convicts shall have a new master. Six sheets of foolscap we write every day. Oh, ' twas an awful disaster. Here we learned to make fancy curves, to hold the body straight, and to count— up to one. Our Secn)id Year of Imprisonment. , ■ .■ It is customarv to i ardon prisoners and release them before the expiration of their term, upon good behavior, but not so here. It was with somewhat forcM energv that we took u]-i our tools for our second year ' s term, but our hearts light- ened as we looked forward with the assurance that if we did everything that was

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CLAS HISTORY AS a preface, perhaps it would be well to lay the blame for the birth of this manuscript where it properly belongs. It was a dismal, dull, drearj- day (note the alliteration), when a member of the faculty (mentioning no names), on her way upstairs, glanced out upon the court of the school, and turning to a party of girls near her, said, Doesn ' t that view of the building make you think of a prison! Then with a laugh, And we, the faculty, are, I suppose, the jailers. Aha ! A few idle words, and behold the result. This merely goes to show that it is not always the students but sometimes tlie irreproachable faculty that are to blame. CHAPTER I. The trial was over— and we were declared guilty. We could not yet real- ize the truth. Our feelings seemed dulled, our brains in a mist. Could it be true? Were we really condemned ? The words the judge had ]ironounced were still ring- ing in our ears. Guilty! Guilty! Of the terrible frime of being cut out for a school teacher. Oh, awful fate! And the punishment, alas— two years at hard labor and (if we still exhibited the tendencies) a life sentence. CHAPTER II. Our first orders came one day in August. We were to appear before the ex- aminers who were to file our records. Here we were put under the third degree and compelled to answer such questions as the following: 1. VVTiy did your grandfather die ? 2. Has your brother had the measles? 3. How much older will you be two years from now ? Then our eyes, ears, and hearts were tested ; our measurements taken running and jumping; the squares of our bases, and our diagonals, times pi, calculated. On the eighth of September, 1908, we were bundled into patrol wagons, and were at last on our way to prison. We soon arrived at our destination. (Do you know, they say Sixty-ninth street cars stop at Stewart avenue from force of habit, without any effort on the part of the motorman?) We entered the stately halls of Normal Prison. Behind us lay Liberty (probably a position as a stenographer)— before us lay the terrible task of uplift- ing the young mind at sixty-five per. What a terrible future! To begin with, our cells were assigned us. As the newest jirisoners we were sent to the third floor so as to liave the most stairs to climb. Then a scliedule of our work was handed to us and we began to work out our punishment. We were sent to workshop 211, where Little IMathematics sat in a corner. Spouting big words galore. He idioscyncrasized most of our habits. And svllabused us bv the score.

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expected of us, and a little bit more, perhaps, -whicli is known here as social effi- ciency (a very elastic tenn), we would he released upon the following June. The monotony of our prison life, however, was somewhat relieved by the advent of a new sheriff upon the promotion of our former one. He was a pleas- ant-faced, good-natured individual, and we immediately dropped some of our re- sponsibilities, thinking to give him a view of, if not how much liberty we had had, at least, how much we would like to have. And did it work? Let this suffice: he knew what was good for us ! It was now, also, that we became divided. There was need for laborers in the stoneyards, of which this prison had three. They were called the Harri- son, Carter and Normal yards, and contained stones in varying c onditions. Not only was the stone to be broken by the laborers, but plans must also be made for the care of the stone, the bettering of existing conditions, suggestions for the development of a better grade and so forth. And here— here of all places, were our grinding tasks almost beyond belief. Unto each poor prodigal was allotted the work of breaking stones into various shapes. Some were blessed by being al- lowed to cut the hard-heads into lumps like Little Gypsy Dandelion or I ' m a Beautiful Red, l ed Drum on Mondays and Wednesdays, then on Tiiesdays, Thursdays and Fridays these self-same lum])s were to be slivere l into the causes of the French and Indian War, or Why did Napoleon cross the Rnbicon and not the Delaware? Other less well-faring inmates were appointed to powder smaller stones in- to the inevitable idols of School Gardens or What kind of a leaf does an oak tree have? Last, but not least, came the drill in stone cutting to the count of one— one- one— one— one— ready, break! Sixty cracks to a minute, with a curve of the body. It was not, however, merely the task of breaking the crusted earth ' s sur- face. Imagine if you can— an individual standing before a pile of rough stones, all sizes and grades; about the lower ankle is elapsed a ball, a ball of fear, dread and self-consciousness. In the right hand the convict holds a mallet. At a table not far distant sits the boss of the realms before you. At the sound of a gong, a deep, hollow, gruesome-sounding clang, the convict commences to knock. Slowly, oh, so quietly and ghost-like, the door opens, and the clanking of an officer ' s spurs are heard crossing the cold stoney floor of the yard. Almost as if by magic, enters the sheritT of the great ])rison, followed by the turnkey of the stone yard. Bear in mind, the knocking of the stone continues— until the bell announces quit- ting time. Then the convict limps to the table at which the grand conference is held. Here, he finds out, that the stones he has brok( n are all of the wrong size, the turnkey says that he swings his arm with too slack a force, the sheriff, that he does not hit in the right direction, that he does not stand properly, and what not and whatnot. Is it a wonder, friends, that you behold before you a class of al- most ex-convicts, from which the springy step of freedom has completely van- ished? While half of our nunilier were out working in the stone yard, the rest of us were still within the walls of the prison, jireparing for our future tussle with the stones. We studied the nature of stone, its development through every little stage, what men in bygone years thought of it, what they had done for it, and also the result of environment upon the grade of stone. Keeper IcManis held the iron lod over our heads, directing us in our labor. Ding dong liell ! Kittens and Miss AVells! It may not be iiistory but it surely was hers! From the ( aic of Small Cats we worked nut Immigration, Then the treatment of ])ovs and how we built our nation.