Executioner's Song, The - Norman Mailer [353]
INTERVIEWER What things?
GILMORE Just being aware that I never did get afraid. I knew that if I just kept going, I'd get out. It left me with a distinct feeling, like a kind of overcoming of myself.
INTERVIEWER Well, why then did you say it was going to reform school that got you started?
GIILMORE Look, reform schools disseminate certain esoteric knowledge. They sophisticate. A kid comes out of reform school and he's learned a few things he would otherwise have missed. And he identifies, usually, with the people who share that same esoteric knowledge, the criminal element, or whatever you want to call it. So going to Woodburn was not a small thing in my life.
INTERVIEWER Was it bad at Woodburn? How did you fit in there?
GILMORE Man, that place made me think that was the only way to live. The guys in there I looked up to, they were tough, they were hipsters-this was the Fifties-and they seemed to run everything there. The staff were local beer-drinking guys that put in their hours, and they didn't care if you did this or did that. They had a few psych doctors there, too. Psychoanalysis was a big thing then. They would come in and they would show you their ink-blot tests and they would ask you all kinds of questions, mostly related to sex. And look at ya funny and . . . things like that.
INTERVIEWER How long were you there?
GILMORE Fifteen months. I escaped four times, and after that, I finally got hip that the way to really get out of that place was to show 'em that I was rehabilitated. And after four months of not getting into any trouble, they released me. That taught me that people like that are easily fooled.
INTERVIEWER Did other inmates ever try to make you their punk?
GILMORE NO . . . nobody ever . . . I've never had any trouble like that. No, never once. If it had happened I would have handled it in a decisive violent manner. I would have killed somebody-or beat them with something, you know, if they were too big. I would've took some weapon to 'em. But that never did happen to me.
INTERVIEWER How did you feel when you were released from Woodburn?
GILMORE I came out looking for trouble. Thought that's what you're supposed to do. I felt slightly superior to everybody else 'cause I'd been in reform school. I had a tough-guy complex, that sort of smart-aleck juvenile-delinquent attitude. Juvenile delinquent-remember that phrase? Sure dates me, don't it? Nobody could tell me anything. I had a ducktail haircut, I smoked, drank, shot heroin, smoked weed, took speed, got into fights, chased and caught pretty little broads. The Fifties were a hell of a time to be a juvenile delinquent. I stole and robbed and gambled and went to Fats Domino and Gene Vincent dances at the local hails.
INTERVIEWER What did you want to make of your life at that point?
GILMORE I wanted to be a mobster.
INTERVIEWER Didn't you think you had any other talents?
GILMORE Well, yeah, I had talents. I've always been good at drawing. I've drawn since I was a child, and I remember a teacher in about the second grade telling my mom, "Your son's an artist," in a way that showed she really meant it.
INTERVIEWER Did you ever have a time when you had second thoughts about that criminal destiny, where you thought you might change?
GILMORE Well, I figured if I could get something going as an artist-but it's so damned hard, you know. I wanted to be successful on a large scale-a fine artist-not a commercial artist. After a while I figured I'd probably just spend the rest of my life in jail or commit suicide, or be killed uh, by the police or something like that. A violent death of some sort, but there was a time as a kid when I thought seriously about it, you know, being a painter.
INTERVIEWER How long was