Newspaper Page Text
ffivaiftif'yJ- ' iwyjjg. '
always been yery much interested in
Mr. Molineux's work. Indeed, I
wanted very much to write myself,
but I suppose I haven't the gray mat
ter. I shall continue to typewrite his
t manuscripts I could never be idle.
"You ask what our plans for the
future are. I haven't any. There are
times in life when it seems best to
live from moment to moment without
looking ahead. And that is the way
I am living now!"
As for Roland Molineux well, he
has, as one would expect him to
have, the seared personality of the
man who has been through fire.
The marks of the flame are in his
face, his voice, his manner, in the
fixed intensity with which he dwells
on the subject of his play which a
.New York critic has described as an
"obsession in three acts."
"The Man Inside," Mr. Molineux
explained to me, "is a straightfor
ward plea for the rehabilitation of
the criminal. It is my belief that a
prison should not be a place of pun
ishment, but, like a hospital, a place
of healing. A prison should be such
a place as would instill in the crim
inal a genuine desire to be good.
There should be only indeterminate
sentences. Wc should cast aside the
old idea of vengeance, of an eye for
an eye. Punishment for the sake of
punishment has always failed. Until
the idea of prison as place of healing,
of rehabilitation, is established the
procession of convicted -men will
never halt, will never grow less.
Where there was one yesterday there
will be two today, there will be three
tomorrow. A man dies in the chill
dawn at Sing-Sing and yet murder
goes on just the same!"
'Qfou have seen many men go out
in the dawn to die, have you not?"
"I have," Mr. Molineux answered,
the gray shadow of the death house
crossing his face for a moment. "I
have played checkers with a man one
day and the next morning he was
taKen out to the electric chair. You
house of playing checkers by calling
out the moves from cell to cell.
"I cannot tell you of the strange '
bond the common sentence of death
creates. It is a brotherhood more in
timate than any other.
"I was called the mayor of the
death house, and when any of the
brotherhood went forth to die he car
ried with him an extraordinary forti
tude inspired by the sympathy of his
fellows. For days before we had
saved tobacco or oranges or any lit
tle luxury we had to send to him.
And we sang songs to him, all kinds
of songs except the Forbidden Song
the song the condemned men never
hear, the song which by unwritten
law of the death house no convict
would dare start."
"And that song is?'
" 'Home Sweet Home," answered
the man for whom a woman's devo
tion has given new meaning to the
Forbidden Song.
o o
DIARY OF FATHER TIME
Of course there are a lot of us
who don't wear diamonds, mostly be
cause wc can't buy them; but then
some of us don't like them anyhow.
But there are few who do wear them
that know the origin of the diamond
or how it came to be where it is
found. Even the wisest geologist
cannot make a reasonable guess on
those questions.
It's nearly two hundred years ago
the Orange River in South Africa was
discovered, but it was not until 1869
that the great rush to the diamond
country began. Then, as now, in
stampedes to each reported Alaskan
gold strike, butchers, bakers, sailors, '
tailors, lawyers, blacksmiths, doctors, '
farmers, gamblers and loafers j
bwarmed to the scene of the discov'
ery. Since the Kimberly diamond field 3
was discovered the production of'1
diamonds has increased, but the cost
has not decreased because the hu
man vanity of adornment may always ,
be trusted to grow by wnat it feeds
on, '
know we had a way in the death
&L t .--"-
1
