Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [230]
Then Earl and Bill met two Assistant Attorney Generals from the State of Oregon who talked about what a problem Gilmore used to be in the Oregon prison system. It seems he was never satisfied with his false teeth. Every time they made a new set, he would flush them down the toilet. The prison finally said that if he sent any more choppers that route, he'd be gumming his food for the rest of his penitentiary life. These Assistant Attorney Generals now said jokingly that after Gilmore was executed, Utah ought to return the plates to the Oregon Department of Corrections.
Next day, new developments. If you jacked up an old plaster ceiling, you couldn't have more fast-developing cracks in a situation.
The Utah Supreme Court had just ruled on Snyder and Esplin's petition for an appeal and had given Gilmore a Stay of Execution whether he wanted it or not. Now, nobody knew when it would come off. Same day, Gilmore sent a letter back to the Court. The papers naturally printed it. Earl thought he could hardly believe what he was reading.
Don't the people of Utah have the courage of their convictions?
You sentence a man to die-me-and when I accept this most ex treme punishment with grace and dignity, you, the people of Utah want to back down and argue with me about it. You're silly.
On Sunday night, Gary said to Cline Campbell, "I need your help. I have no lawyer and I figure to be in Court in a few days. I can always go up there and represent myself, but it would look more serious if I have an attorney." He handed a letter to Campbell. "This man says he's a lawyer. Will you contact him?" When Campbell promised he would, Gilmore added, "You got to do it quick."
The letter gave no telephone number. Monday morning, Campbell drove to the address on the envelope, and ran into a fellow just leaving the apartment. He turned out to be Boaz's roommate, and said, "Dennis is in bed, but I'll get him up. He's been writing all night."
After Campbell told Boaz why he had come, both took a good look at each other. Campbell had to squint toward the ceiling. Boaz was as tall as a basketball player, six-four at least, and, like a telescope, seemed to go up in extensions. At the top, he had a pleasant serious face, dark hair, and a dark brush mustache. To Campbell he looked as much like a tall skinny doctor or dentist as a lawyer.
Since Dennis had been living rent-free in the basement his first thought when Campbell arrived was that the fellow might be a creditor. Campbell looked like a tough clean little soldier. He had a no-nonsense look, straight as starch. Of course Dennis had this new Saab he was out on a limb on. What the hell, he was broke. In fact, he owed ten grand. Under such circumstances, he naturally thought Campbell had come to repossess the Saab. The moment he found out Cline was instead the bearer of good tidings, he was able to take a liking to him. A gentle soft-spoken man, he decided, courteous and concerned.
The place was looking a mess. Everson, his roommate, was a little disorganized at the time, and so there were books and papers all over, and this big double bed in the front room, somewhat chaotic, right. Campbell wasn't going to be impressed unless he could see that the place had decent atmosphere. Everson was a good dude for letting him stay there, since it certainly interfered with Everson having any ladies around. Yet being such a good person about it, Everson's attitude mellowed out the chaos. Besides, Boaz felt he was now in the positive channel of the flow. He could carry off worse appearances than this.
He told Campbell it would only take an hour to get ready but then he had to get batteries for his tape recorder, and check in on his legal job for the bus drivers' union. That was supposed to pay him a nominal retainer but hadn't yet. With it all, he didn't get out to the prison till two o'clock, three hours later.
The prison was at Point of the Mountain, twenty miles south from Salt Lake City, halfway to Orem and Provo, and just opposite the place on