The Use and Need of the Life of Carrie A. Nation [49]
lion and I will make
all hell howl." I wanted to let them know that I was going to grow while
in there.
Three days after, on the 30th, there was brought in and put next to
my cell an old man, named Isaiah Cooper, a lunatic, who raved, cursed
and tore his clothes and bedding. He was brought from the poor farm
where he was waiting to be sent to the insane asylum. There were some
cigarette, smokers in the jail and the fumes came in my cell, for I had
nothing but an open barred door. I begged that I might not be compelled
to smell this poison, but, instead of diminishing, the smoke increased.
Two prisoners from across the rotunda were brought next to
my cell.
What an outrage, to tax the citizens of Sedgwick County to build
such a jail as that in Wichita. It holds one hundred and sixty prisoners.
There were thirteen there when I was put in. I have been in many jails, but
in none did I ever see a rotary, except in Wichita, a large iron cage,
with one door, the little cells the shape of a piece of pie. Perhaps there
were a dozen in this one. The cage rotated within a cylinder. This was
for the worst criminals, and the cells were only large enough for a small
cot, a chair and a table about a foot square.
{illust. caption =
JUST BEFORE I LEFT WICHITA JAIL A PHOTOGRAPHER CAME TO MY CELL AND ASKED
TO TAKE MY PICTURE. HERE IT IS IN THE POSITION OF KNEELING, READING
MY BIBLE, WHICH WAS MY USUAL ATTITUDE.}
Mr. Simmons was the sheriff and he told the prisoners to "smoke all
they pleased," that he would keep them in material, and he kept his word.
Tobacco smoke is poison to me and cigarettes are worse. The health-
board belonged to this republican whiskey ring, and was in conspiracy
to make me insane, so they put a quarantine on the jail for three weeks,
and I was a lone woman in there, with two cigarette smokers, and a
maniac, next to my cell. John, the Trusty, smoked a horrid strong pipe,
and he also was next to my cell. Strange to say, when that jail had so
many apartments, and so few in them, that four inmates should have been
put next to me; but there was "a cause." Mr. Dick Dodd was the jailor,
and for three weeks he was the only one who came in my cell and I was
not allowed to see anyone in that time, but Dr. Jordan who called once.
I cried and begged to be relieved of the smoke, for I do not think Mr.
Dodd realized how poisonous it was to me. I would have to keep my
windows up in the cold January weather, and the fire would go down at
night. I had two blankets, no pillow and a bed that the criminals had
slept on for years perhaps. I would shiver with cold, and often would lay
on the cement floor with my head in my hands to keep out of the draught.
Oh! the physical agony! I had something like La Grippe which settled
on my bronchial tubes, from which I have never recovered, and I
expect to feel the effect to my dying day. I had a strong voice for
singing, which I lost, and have never been able to sing, to speak of since.
Hour after hour I would lay on the floor, listening to the ravings of this
poor old man, who would fall on his iron bed and hard floor, cursing and
calling out names. One night I thought I could not live to see day. I
had in my cell sweetest of all companions, my Bible. I read and studied
it, and this particular night I told the Lord he must come to my aid. As I
often do, I opened my Bible at random and read the first place I opened
to, the 144th Psalm. I have often read the book through, but this chapter
seemed entirely new. It reads, Verse 1: "Blessed be the Lord my
strength, which teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight. 2. My
goodness and my fortress my high tower and my deliverer; my shield
and He in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me."
God told me in this chapter that He led me to "fight with my fingers
and war with my hands;" that He would be my REFUGE and DELIVERER;
that He would bring the people to me.
David had just such enemies as these when be says in this chapter:
"Cast forth thy lightnings and scatter them;
all hell howl." I wanted to let them know that I was going to grow while
in there.
Three days after, on the 30th, there was brought in and put next to
my cell an old man, named Isaiah Cooper, a lunatic, who raved, cursed
and tore his clothes and bedding. He was brought from the poor farm
where he was waiting to be sent to the insane asylum. There were some
cigarette, smokers in the jail and the fumes came in my cell, for I had
nothing but an open barred door. I begged that I might not be compelled
to smell this poison, but, instead of diminishing, the smoke increased.
Two prisoners from across the rotunda were brought next to
my cell.
What an outrage, to tax the citizens of Sedgwick County to build
such a jail as that in Wichita. It holds one hundred and sixty prisoners.
There were thirteen there when I was put in. I have been in many jails, but
in none did I ever see a rotary, except in Wichita, a large iron cage,
with one door, the little cells the shape of a piece of pie. Perhaps there
were a dozen in this one. The cage rotated within a cylinder. This was
for the worst criminals, and the cells were only large enough for a small
cot, a chair and a table about a foot square.
{illust. caption =
JUST BEFORE I LEFT WICHITA JAIL A PHOTOGRAPHER CAME TO MY CELL AND ASKED
TO TAKE MY PICTURE. HERE IT IS IN THE POSITION OF KNEELING, READING
MY BIBLE, WHICH WAS MY USUAL ATTITUDE.}
Mr. Simmons was the sheriff and he told the prisoners to "smoke all
they pleased," that he would keep them in material, and he kept his word.
Tobacco smoke is poison to me and cigarettes are worse. The health-
board belonged to this republican whiskey ring, and was in conspiracy
to make me insane, so they put a quarantine on the jail for three weeks,
and I was a lone woman in there, with two cigarette smokers, and a
maniac, next to my cell. John, the Trusty, smoked a horrid strong pipe,
and he also was next to my cell. Strange to say, when that jail had so
many apartments, and so few in them, that four inmates should have been
put next to me; but there was "a cause." Mr. Dick Dodd was the jailor,
and for three weeks he was the only one who came in my cell and I was
not allowed to see anyone in that time, but Dr. Jordan who called once.
I cried and begged to be relieved of the smoke, for I do not think Mr.
Dodd realized how poisonous it was to me. I would have to keep my
windows up in the cold January weather, and the fire would go down at
night. I had two blankets, no pillow and a bed that the criminals had
slept on for years perhaps. I would shiver with cold, and often would lay
on the cement floor with my head in my hands to keep out of the draught.
Oh! the physical agony! I had something like La Grippe which settled
on my bronchial tubes, from which I have never recovered, and I
expect to feel the effect to my dying day. I had a strong voice for
singing, which I lost, and have never been able to sing, to speak of since.
Hour after hour I would lay on the floor, listening to the ravings of this
poor old man, who would fall on his iron bed and hard floor, cursing and
calling out names. One night I thought I could not live to see day. I
had in my cell sweetest of all companions, my Bible. I read and studied
it, and this particular night I told the Lord he must come to my aid. As I
often do, I opened my Bible at random and read the first place I opened
to, the 144th Psalm. I have often read the book through, but this chapter
seemed entirely new. It reads, Verse 1: "Blessed be the Lord my
strength, which teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight. 2. My
goodness and my fortress my high tower and my deliverer; my shield
and He in whom I trust; who subdueth my people under me."
God told me in this chapter that He led me to "fight with my fingers
and war with my hands;" that He would be my REFUGE and DELIVERER;
that He would bring the people to me.
David had just such enemies as these when be says in this chapter:
"Cast forth thy lightnings and scatter them;