20,000 Years in Sing Sing (Warner Bros.) (1932)

TWENTY THOUSAND YEARS IN SING SING By LEWIS E. LAWES Warden Sing Sing Prison Sereen Version Fictionized by Hamilton Thompson from Warner Bros.’ Sensational Picture of the Same Name CHAPTER II UST how much Big Joe Finn’s political pull amounted to, was demonstrated in the Criminal Courts building the next day. Tom Connors was sentenced to upward of thirty years in Sing Sing for robbery, first degree, including sentences for assault with a deadly weapon and violation of the Sullivan Act. There was a brief, though violent tussle before the prisoner was subdued. (Spencer Tracy as the prisoner in a scene from the picture. 2 And Finn’s alleged pull at Ning Sing can best be gauged by listening in while Tom Connors is presented to Warden Long in his office in the prison administration building, only a minute after Connors had attempted a speech to the newspaper men, which was not heard. *«Tell the world, Boy,’’ he started. Then Sheriff Daniels jerked him back. “*Come on, you—you’re through telling the world anything.’? In his office, Warden Long, famed ie for his ability to read character and sto manage men—for his humaneness as well as his discipline—regarded Connors casually, and then he gazed coldly at Finn. ‘*Guess you don’t remember me, Warden,’’ Finn said, as he extended his hand. ‘‘I’m Joe Finn, deputy leader in the Twenty-Eighth ... I . . .’? His voice trailed off. ‘‘Um-hum.’’? Warden Long was not interested. He seemed not to see the extended hand. Finn, somewhat discouraged, tried to be jovial. ‘‘Come up with young Connors here, Warden. Nice boy, Connors—just high-spirited, bright— aan —— TWENTY THOUSAND YEARS IN SING SING By LEWIS E. LAWES Warden Sing Sing Prison Screen Version Fictionized by Hamilton Thompson from Warner Bros.’ Sensational Picture of the Same Name CHAPTER III ONE of this did Big Joe Finn know and could not relate to Fay or to any of the gang, back in the 22nd Street apartment. Nor did Finn see Connors ‘ater, as, clad in the sombre grey uniform of a rookie prisoner, he took up his prison bucket, together with the other prisoners, march submissively to the old cell block, where they must remain for their period of isolation, “Listen, tell the Warden something for me... tell him I’m reads for the rock pile... tell him he wins.” (Spencer Tracy in a dramatic scene from the picture.) in niches of stone and steel) ——— ——— bare three and a half feet in width| Poet to the contrary notwithstanding. by seven feet long—prison stone and Fay knew nothing of this prison metal that does a prison make, the| solitude. _ Page Ten likeable—lots of laughs. Aw course, you know how ’tis with these young fellows these days ... it’s all in fun =... =." Finn didnot like the look in the Warden’s face and stopped abruptly. Warden Long picked up the record sheet. He read it carefully, and then looked up. ‘‘All in fun, eh.’’ He arose and hovered over Finn. His voice was cold and hard. | “Pm Running This Prison” | ‘‘Listen, Finn; I’m running this prison. You get out. If Connors has any idea he will receive treatment here any different than any other inmate, he is doomed to disappointment. Now, go!’’ Again a feeling of coldness came over Tommy Connors. Back in the 22nd Street apartment that evening, Big Joe Finn gave his version of the day’s events, including Connors’ entrance to Warden Long’s exclusive colony up the Hudson River. The gang listened expectantly, eager for all the details. Most receptive was Fay, who was impatient and petulant. Had he a nice cell? Was he comfortable? Did he have a radio, as she had heard all the prisoners in Sing Sing had? ‘‘Ts he comfortable? Has he a niee cell? Say, Why do you think I was there for?’’ Finn bragged. **Course he has everything.’’ ‘Why, when I introduced myself, the Warden fell all over himself. He said Tommy would be treated nice— and when I say nice, I mean nice! Say, that kid won’t be there no time Course, he must stay a little white. or else the newspapers will yell—buz, leave it to me, he’ll soon be scramming outer there like nobody’s busi ness. ’? And so Big Joe Finn ranted on, but somehow Fay felt that all wasn’t as Finn would have them think. Bui, never mind, she was going up soon, and would see Tommy, and find out for herself. If Finn had waited, and if he could have watched Connors’ entry to the Reception Company, in whose ranks all newcomers at Sing Sing must enlist as new members, he undoubtedly would have secretly gloated. For Tommy Connors, ~macluate gang ‘All soon she was herself going to Sing Sing, to see her man—to declare her loyalty—to help him in any way she might. She knew not how he might benefit. She did know that she loved him—oh, how much, and she must show him. And she knew in her heart that it would be a long time before he was free. It was a bitter thought. Lift without Tom Connors would not be life at all. She would want to die. It was a chastened Connors who, the next morning, was guided into Warden Long’s office. The Warden paid no attention to him for a minute or two. Finally the Warden looked up ‘*T understand you didn’t like the uniform we issued you?’’ he said. *‘T still don’t like it,’’? replied Connors. ‘*Nor will you like the food. And you certainly won’t care for your cell, ?? **Tt’s lousy,’’ snapped Connors. **No,’’ replied Warden Long slowly. ‘‘It’s not lousy—any more... it doesn’t get sunlight, and it’s badly veatilated—but it’s clean. And it’s the same as every new man gets here. You rate no better than any othe: man. Why do you think you should get any better than others?’ “‘Well...1I...I1 was promised . .’? Connors was hesitant. “You’re No Big Shot to Me”’ ‘Who promised? Listen, Connors, no one is running this prison but me. You’re no big shot—to me. You’re going to find out a lot of thingsand like them.’?’ The Warden arose and strode to the front of his desk. ‘‘T’m going to show you how to work . . . that working is a privilege...’ ‘*Aw, yeah!’’ sneered Connors. ‘‘Take it easy, Warden, don’t let me get on your nerves.’’ St aee : 4 ae = £ Ae neh ia ae and ee = = Fay knew or cared was that thank Heaven for the privilege.’’ The composed efficient prison officia]. He jabbed a push button and a guard entered. dered. play. crash outta here, and it means rubbin’ someone out . . . I’d rub you out as quick as the next guy . dE BE ere wearily. now, and had the chance I’d proh ably do the same thing.’’ he felt somehow at a disadvantage. the Warden straightened in his chair. ‘The point is .-. ‘fyou haven’t a chance—not one chance in a million.’’ led back to his niche of cold stone and steel. the warden had said that one must be useful to those about him if one were even to live. gangster it was an age. on his hard iron bench, while outside he sensed that his fellow prisoners marched and worked—and played. He heard their shouts on the reereation field. smoking, lolling on the benches in the yards—reading their mail, or the newspapers—acting like human be ster de luxe was getting the works. Let us go back to Sing Sing anc see for ourselves. A cloud of steam is arising from a shower bath in one of the somber duildings where the new prisoners are bathed, shaved and issued their prison clothing. Two young negroes sitting in their aew, baggy union suits, are putting on their brogans. An elderly man with glasses is buttoning the collar on his hickory shirt. A simple looking Italian laborer is fastening his trousers unconcernedly. And in this group was Connors, the young, egotistical gangster, whose boast it was that he could beat any rap. He was raging. Something had gone wrong. He had been handed illfitting, shapeless clothing—harsh to the skin—and he, used only to expensive Broadway-tailored clothes! He could stand it no longer. He rushed to a guard. ‘‘Say, you—is this a gag? You guys tryin’ to make a monkey outa me??? The guards only smiled. Connors raged on: ‘‘Don’t you know I’m Tom Connors, Haven’t yo: read ’bout me? Ain’t the warden told you? Say, you can’t treat me like the rest of these mugs.’’ Connors started tearing off the uniform, while the guards looked on passively. He stood stripped to his underwear, which was equally a poor fit. Connor’s talk became too strong, and as a guard approached him, Connors made a pass at him—missed, and caught another guard on the eye. A third guard stepped in, and several others moved nearer. There was a brief, though violent tussle, before the prisoner was subdued. | ‘But No Uniform” | A few minutes later, Warden Long answered the telephone in his office. He said, ‘‘All right—if he doesn’t want to wear the uniform, he doesn’t have to ... No, don’t put him in the punishment cells . . . Stick him in the Reception Company, at once, along with the other new men. Just follow the usual routine ... but NO uniform! ?” = 3 The guard who received the order from the wardex, “stailed sourly. It The Warden paid no attention. ‘*And you’re going to pray to God to let you work—to break rock or shovel coal or pick up garbage—anything that will take you out of that cell.?? Connors’ response was a weak attempt to smile scornfully, but he felt himself wavering. ‘¢And then you’re going out to the rock-pile . . . and swing a sledge until you can’t stand ... And you will Warden sat down and again was the ‘*Take him back,’’ he tersely or Connors made a last grandstand ‘‘And if I get a chance to oe ‘* Yes, I know,’’ said Warden Long ‘*Tf I were in your place The remark startled Connors, and ‘*But the point is, Connors .. ” . . .? he emphasized Connors was thoughtful as he was Perhaps, it was true, as Days passed. To the once cocky Connors sat He Could Stand It No Longer In his mind’s eye he saw them here??? shertly. ‘*it’s over a year.’ shrugged and turned away. arm, threugh the bars. the Warden something for me, will yuh? Tell him ...I’m ready... for the rock-pile . . he wins .. iron bench, wearily. work on the rock-pile. prison work uniform—sleeves rolled to the elbow. from his forehead as he grunted at hir labor. him curiously. of Connors’ history. was the guard who had received Con| nors’ sock. Connors, huddled in a far corner of his dark cell in the old cell-block blinked as a guard flashed a light into the cell. ; ‘¢ All right, you—come on out.’’ ‘‘Tf you’re takin’ me out to give me th’ works, you’ll have to come in and drag me out,’’ exclaimed Connors desperately. ‘‘No don’t worry; you don’t get any more of that,’’ responded the guard. ‘‘You’ve got a big pull 7round here; the warden says you don’t have to wear any uniform.’’ Thereupon Connors. perked _ up. ‘«That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell you lugs,’’ he eried triumphantly. As he emerged into the semi light of the prison corridor he cut a humiliating figure—in a cheap union suit which bagged in several places, particularly in the seat. * A sergeant pointed down the corridor, and Connors cockily preceded 4 him. His confidence quickly oozed away. as he listened to the offensive gibes of his fellow prisoners, as he passed their cells: ‘“Ain’t he got cute legs? Kay { Franci. ain’t got nothin’ on him.’’ 5 ‘“Hey, Guard, better search the é seat of his pants—he’s got burglar tools concealed there.’’ | Connors raged. ‘‘You bunch of ; babboons, who’d yuk think yuh are? I’ll get you for this.’’ Out of the prison block—out into the sunlight, Connors was escorted with due decorium by the now solemn — guards. es Out into the yard, Connors went— out into the gardens made famous by Charles Chapin’s industry — amidst the men during their recreation hour. Hundreds of prisoners were enjoying the brief respite from their prison labors. They looked their amazement as Connors’ bizaare form loomed up before them. 4 Connors drew back. ‘‘Hey, what about my clothes?’’ he queried. 3 ‘“You said you didn’t want a uniform; the Warden wants you to have your own way.’’? The sergeant re | plied, stifling a smile. = ‘Oh, that’s the gag, huh? Okey by me.’? But he did not feel the confidence he expressed, and he fe worse when a-wintry blast struck him. (Continued tomorrow) on 8 ON, ee ee s SOR. ings. While this dark, desolate cell, — with its pitiless loneliness, fairly — broke his heart. He could stand it no longer. The next morning, Connors called 7 the guard, who responded in phiegmatic silence. Almost pleadingly he seid, ‘‘Say, how long ave I been _ ‘‘Nine days,’’ replied the guard ‘*You’re crazy,’’ eried Connors, The guard Frantically Connors clutcled at his ‘“Listen, tell ell hime He sank back to his 3) * * % And then Fay made her visit to the prison. That forenoon found Connors at He was in The sweat was running A guard stood watching He knew something ‘*You’ve got a visitor today, Con nors,’’ he said. ‘“Veah, I know.’’ It was a casual arswer, but cheer was in his heart. ‘Looking at his wrist watch, the guard said, ‘‘Okey, Lover go to it.’’ Under ordinary conditions, Con nors would have resented this. Now, it was an obvious order. to the prison wash room, and a few minutes later emerged, cleaned, shirt buttoned, and prison sweater on. He hurried, with pass in hand, to the administration was frisked, and allowed to exit to the Visitors’ Room. him a brisque nod and passed him on He hurried building, where he A guard gave Tommy looked eagerly about. There she was, just coming in from the outside entrance room. She saw him and a glad cry welled to her lips. gardless of the guard’s scrutiny. His emotion was but momentary. gruffiy said, ‘‘Come on over here,’ and he led her to a fenced-in space reserved for visitors. Tommy claspel h~ to him, re He (Continued tomorrow)