Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [293]
After they had been going about forty-five minutes, Schiller said, "I've told you about myself, and you've told me something about yourself, and I guess we'll have a chance to talk again and make a decision as to whether I can be of service to you."
Gilmore said, "You have a place to go?"
"No," said Schiller," but they won't let me sit here forever."
"Why not?" asked Gilmore. "Stay all night."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah, Vern and I talk six hours long if we want."
Now, Schiller began to feel how much Gilmore was in control.
From time to time, he would turn to the guard and say, Where's my pills? or, Get me my coffee, and do it in a tone that had no question he was going to get what he wanted. Bring me my coffee, like, Bring me the head of Alfredo Garcia.
When more time went by, however, and the coffee had not arrived, Gilmore abruptly, screamed out: "WHERE'S THE COFFEE?"
Schiller had been able to see a little irritation building, but this really came without warning, a shrill and screeching sound, that showed, so far as Schiller could see, Gilmore's absolute insensitivity to any ugly impression he might leave with Vern or the lawyers. It was like talking to a woman who suddenly starts caterwauling at her kids.
Finally, an attendant in a white uniform brought in some pills, and Gary really cussed the guy out. "You've been keeping me waiting an hour and fifteen minutes," he said. "Don't you know that when I ask for medicine, I am supposed to have it? It's a rule. You people make the rules, then you don't fulfill them." He was so rude, in fact, that Schiller was surprised they did not manhandle him back to his cell. It was amazing how far Gilmore was willing to push it.
His coffee soon followed in a cardboard cup, and he began to rave that he was not supposed to eat out of paper utensils. The regulations called for real crockery. Then, he said to Schiller, "These guys expect me to live by the rules, serve my time by the rules, go to bed by the rules, get executed by the rules, but they bend them all over the place. They break them whenever they want." He went on for a ten-minute tirade, and suddenly, Schiller knew who Gilmore reminded him of: it was Muhammad Ali off on a rant, that same hard, implacable, inhuman voice that Muhammad could turn on and off.
Once Schiller had been in Ali's room in the Hilton Hotel in Manila and had had to sit there for an hour and listen to Muhammad All in a temper, and Gilmore had the same tone. Didn't care what you thought of him. So Schiller said: "You really did kill those two guys, didn't you?" "Of course I did," said Gilmore, almost looking hurt, "you know that." And then Schiller said, "You killed them," as if to say there was a difference between killing somebody in a rage, and being a cold-blooded killer who only had to throw a little switch in himself. Gilmore was in the second category. He could kill you because you gave him coffee in a paper cup.
That took a lot of warmth out of the conversation. Schiller knew it was time to back off, so he said, "Vern, anything you want to say?" and Vern got on the phone for a couple of minutes. When Schiller figured it was cool again, he said, "Look, Gary, it's dinnertime. Want me to come back afterwards?" And Gilmore said, "Yeah, oh yeah. We'll sit here all night and talk." He had gotten over his chill. Schiller went out thinking, Boy, what I'll be able to do with this guy. He's a great subject for an interview.
As the interview went on and on, Moody and Stanger began to worry over being discovered and professionally embarrassed. They weren't above a little prodding to get Schiller out, but Gary wanted to keep talking. Obviously was enjoying himself. Since the lawyers could only hear Schiller's end of it, they had no real idea what Gary was saying.
Then they began to worry that he might be spilling his guts and giving Schiller the story without a contract or anything. Gary had certainly lit up. It was the first time Moody had ever seen