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By Root 2120 0

Jimmie Mac had been just a volunteer to begin with, they replaced him with a paid, nearly full-time chaplain, an honest-to-God man of the cloth, the real Reverend Mr. Lee Tomme, formerly of the Colorado State Correctional System, who started in from his first day on the job correcting everything in the Arkansas system. Whether or not they fired Irvin Bobo, Nail couldn’t find out right away. But one of the first “improvements” that the Reverend Tomme accomplished was getting the prisoners the privilege of reading magazines and newspapers, and just a few days after his third execution was aborted, Nail read an item in the Gazette, new electrician hired at penitentiary, which explained that G.H. Dempsey, of Arkadelphia, electrician for the past seven years at the Arkadelphia Milling Company, who had done the wiring at the Little Rock City Hall eight years ago, had been hired to replace Irvin P. Bobo, who was resigning for personal reasons. Near the bottom of the article Mr. Bobo was quoted as saying, “My memory isn’t what it used to be. Sometimes lately people say I did things which I don’t even recall ever having done.” The new electrician, Dempsey, said he would have no objection to electrocuting any man whether that man was black or white. “A switch is a switch,” he said. “It’s all the same to me.”

A day after that, the next issue of the Gazette was personally delivered to Nail’s cell by the Reverend Tomme, who also offered Nail a cigarette. Nail almost accepted, but he said, “Preacher, I’ve gone this long without smokes, I can go awhile longer. Thank ye just the same. You go ahead and have one if ye want.”

The Reverend Tomme (it was pronounced “Tommy”) laughed. “I don’t smoke, Brother Chism, but I want you men to be able to have a few pleasures in this life if you are able to obtain them. Look,” and he handed the newspaper to Nail, pointing to an item. “Do you need me to read it for you?”

“I can read just fine,” Nail said. The headline, a big black one, read: GOV. HAYS DEMANDS SWEEPING CHANGES IN PRISON SYSTEM. There was a smaller headline underneath: APPOINTS PRISON EXPERT AS NEW CHAPLAIN, and below that: WILL APPOINT COMMISSION TO INVESTIGATE CONDITIONS.

“The best place to start improving this prison is right here,” the Reverend Tomme said, pointing at the dirt floor of Nail’s cell. “The best person’s condition to change is yours. I’m going to see if we can’t find you a job upstairs.”

“My God!” Nail exclaimed. He knew there was a law against requiring—or even permitting—condemned men to work.

“Yes, your God,” the Reverend Tomme said, and smiled. “I’d like to think it’s my God too, but I’ll settle for your God.”

Nail studied the minister. He had a pleasant face, not that of a man who couldn’t take a joke. He wasn’t much older than Nail, maybe thirty at most. Nail said, “My God is a Lady.” He waited to see if this man would be different from Jimmie Mac.

The man didn’t blink. “A beautiful One, I’ll bet,” the Reverend Tomme said. “And She must really love you. That God in Her goodness saved you three times from the electric chair. Would you tell me your thoughts about that?”

“Thoughts?” said Nail. “I think it’s jist wonderful.”

“Can you tell me what it’s like,” the minister requested, “to sit there one minute and think your life is over, and in the next minute to know that you’ll live? I really can’t imagine being in that chair. Nobody who has never been through that terrible experience could possibly imagine it. And nobody but you, Brother Chism, has ever cheated death three times.”

“Well, sir,” Nail began, and found himself becoming more talkative than he’d ever been in his life. He’d waited a long time to have somebody to tell it to. He would have liked to tell it to Viridis, but he never got a chance. He hadn’t wanted to tell it to Ernest. Now Nail talked for a solid hour to the preacher. The preacher had a very lively face: he would smile or frown or scowl or laugh or just look like he understood completely what Nail was saying.

The preacher would sometimes say, “I see,” as if he really did, or “Go on,” as