It was always fun watching the fireworks on the Fourth of July.
A noise in the corridor initiated this train.
Most of my fun was in bringing them into our town. I would go to another town near ours, buy them, and bring them back in a rowboat. I’d cross the river by boat because then I didn’t have to go by the bridge. One time I got caught on the bridge with a couple dollars worth of fireworks and they were confiscated.
I’d sit on the bank of the river on the Fourth and look over into P—— where they were shooting off rockets, and I’d see the rockets going up and looking like small meteors. I’d get a lot of pleasure out of lying on the lawn at night just looking at the sky, the stars, and the clouds moving past the moon. It would illustrate to me the good and the bad things, how they come and go, nothing permanent.
Sometimes they’d have concerts in the park near where I lived, and I’d go somewhere away from the music, all alone, not very far but distant enough to hear the music softly. Nearby it didn’t sound very nice, but from where I was it sounded so soft and sweet. When you were away from everybody it was like the music was floating on the air, so nice. When I played the radio at home too I always kept it very soft. My father, he is nearly deaf, so he always turned the radio up loud, real loud. I didn’t like that and my sister felt the same way, so we’d go somewhere else and read.
People as a whole don’t bother me. Sometimes I like to talk to some sensible person. I go upstairs to type my lessons and if anybody is in the room I can’t work. Some of the fellows up there are alright and I like to talk to them, but I just can’t work when someone is around. It makes it hard for me to read my notes with people around looking at me. I tried to work several times in company. I don’t know whether they look at me or not and I keep looking around to see if they are watching.
I feel kind of sleepy. I didn’t sleep much last night. I guess they were kidding me so much it’s preying on my mind. I kept telling myself that it was just imagination but something in the back of my head kept saying it wasn’t. These fellows had me coming and going and I didn’t know which way to turn. There’s always something up in a place like this.
I looked out of the window and it was raining and the pigeons all got together and cuddled up against the building. They perched up there under the arches, snugly and warmly, letting it rain. They just get out of it. They know the rain will be over in a while. Man should learn more from them, only it looks like man learns more from the buzzard and the hawk.
It reminds me of a story I read one time of a bird that was trying to swoop down on a fish. It was swooping down and got hold of the fish and the fish was too heavy, so the fish pulled the bird down underneath the water, and the bird drowned. I don’t know the significance of that but I guess people could come to their own conclusion about it …
The analytic implication in terms of resistance is obvious throughout this hour and especially in the closing paragraph.
THE FIFTEENTH HOUR
Doctor, would you mind giving me a little advice? You probably know this: Perry is in love with me. You know it.
L: ‘Now, Harold, instead of me offering advice to you, suppose you just continue as usual with whatever occurs to you.’
Well, it’s rather a funny and new experience, some fellow saying something like that to you.
Well, about a year ago Perry lived in my cell-block and ate at the same table with me in the mess hall. He always so arranged it that he was sitting across the table from me, so we had several conversations, and in the beginning I liked the fellow. He didn’t seem to be like the other fellows; he was different or something: he would usually just sit at the table and not say anything at all during the whole meal; and then sometimes he talked about many things. I never paid very much attention to him. He always seemed a swell kind of fellow, not the sort who would get himself into trouble. I liked him from the beginning and we’d talk occasionally.
Then, about eight months ago, we were both waiting on an interview, sitting in the hall. We had to wait all afternoon and so we talked. He said something to me then. He didn’t know me very well, yet he made a reference to something or other to bring out his point clearly, something like, “It takes more than a million pricks to satisfy me.” These were his exact words, and it gave me a different slant on him. I never said anything to anyone about it, not even to Dobriski. I never even mentioned it to Perry afterwards either. You are the only one I’ve ever told it to.
We always got along after that. I never held it against him. I never tried to “make” him. I know a lot of people in here who are the same sort of fellows like Perry. I don’t know: I can’t bring myself to do nothing like that with another man.
And while we were waiting there for the interview he told me about all the troubles he’d got himself into: and then he got talking about different subjects, literature and art and things like that. He struck me as a fairly intelligent fellow, someone I would like to talk to. All I knew was that he wanted to go into the Industrial Shops, and there is a tough bunch of guys there. We were sitting there, waiting for the interview, and I was going to ask for an industrial assignment too, and I started to tell him not to ask for that kind of job. I had been refused sometime before on account of my eyes, so I told Perry not to go there. I didn’t tell him why because I knew he wouldn’t take my advice. So he got his assignment, and three weeks later he was out of there.
One of the fellows in the Industrial Shops who was the cause of Perry’s leaving there made a bet with another guy that he couldn’t make Perry before he went home. Perry didn’t like him so he couldn’t have made him without a knife or a club, and I didn’t want to see Perry hurt. So I told him to watch himself and he told me he didn’t like to have me tell him anything like that. He got angry and didn’t talk to me for about three months. Maybe he wanted this guy to rape him. Anyhow, while he was angry I began to hang around with my friend Dobriski again, and I didn’t pay any attention to Perry. O, we’d meet occasionally and say hello. Then one time, about three months ago, I was sitting on a bench in stockade on a Sunday when Perry came up and started saying how sorry he was for not speaking to me for such a long time, and that he wished we could be friends in the future. Then he told me he was in love with me. I didn’t know what to say. It sounded sort of funny to me. I didn’t know whether to laugh or …
Sometimes I feel sorry for him. He just doesn’t seem to me like a girl. One girl I went with always told me she was in love with me. I didn’t think much of her, but I think a lot of Perry. I don’t think I’m in love with him. He’s a man like myself. I like him a lot but there isn’t any reason to be in love with a man. I told him I didn’t see how I could possibly be in love with another man. Then he told me he was more feminine than masculine.
Perry doesn’t talk to very many people. If I got angry with him it would hurt me to hurt him. He says a lot of things and I pass them over. One time I took off my glasses just to rest my eyes for a while and he noticed my eyes fluttering and he told me to put on my glasses. I knew what he meant. I knew just what he meant, and I was angry. I can’t forget the way he said it.
I like him a lot but I don’t want to do anything like he wants. It’s not what he thinks of me, it’s what I think of myself. I’ve never had an affair with a person like Perry in all my life. It’s not that I’m afraid, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s not because I don’t like Perry: I like him very much; and I like a lot of other people in his condition; but I hate anything like that; I don’t want to do anything like that with him. He tells me never to say anything to you about his being in love with me. Once in a while when we are walking along together he talks to me, and he says, whispering, “Darling,” and things like that. I just have to laugh sometimes; it’s so funny.
I always liked Perry from the first time I saw him, but I confess that once in a while I get some flashes running through my mind, perhaps only for a half a second or so, little flashes of hate for him. I push them out of m
y mind. I just don’t think about it any more. I don’t believe I really hate him. I look at him sometimes and I just get these little flashes. I can’t say when this happened the first time, maybe a year or so ago. We were sitting at the table and I looked up at him and I felt these little flashes of hate for him going through me, and I just shook myself and kept telling myself there was no reason to hate him.
He hasn’t got a good reputation; in fact, he has a reputation for being a tale-bearer. Not only that; his reputation in here is that he is the sort of fellow that the other men are trying to play around with.
He’s an altogether different person than Dobriski: he’s quieter and smarter. Well, Dobriski is an older person, more considerate of other people’s failings. Perry isn’t. Dobriski talks with everyone. Perry won’t: he despises most of the people around here.
One time he wrote me a note. It was funny. He called me, “My darling honeysuckle,” and, “I love you with all my heart,” and these names he called me were written over maybe twenty times, all over the paper. I didn’t know what to say. Sometime I’m going to tell him this is just childish. He doesn’t stimulate me like a woman would. But, I don’t know; he says that when he looks at my eyes and sees me smile, fire runs through his blood.
He tells me he doesn’t care who knows what he is and what he does. He just doesn’t like people to talk to him. O, he’s willing to have them say hello to him and say hello to them; and then he wants to walk by without pressing the matter further. I like to talk to him. He offers fine arguments.
When I moved back to T cell-block the fellows came up to me and they told me, “We don’t mind you coming up there, but we don’t like the idea of the Princess coming up.” I told them that Perry was with me and if they didn’t like it there was nothing they could do about it. I never told Perry about this. I never say anything to him that might hurt.
He eats like hell. He fills his tray way up at the steam table. I
Many clinicians have noted the voracious appetites and gross eating habits of sexual psychopaths.
kid him a lot about it. I don’t eat much and he says that’s because I sleep a lot and don’t do any hard work.
I take a lot of kidding too. Some of the fellows around here have been calling me the Prince. It sort of quieted down the last few days. But everyone seems to think there is something up between Perry and myself. Everyone except Dobriski. He doesn’t think so: he knows me and he knows that when I tell him something it’s true. The reason I tell him the truth is that I don’t care whether I hurt his feelings or not. Some of the fellows that talk to me emphasize the fact that I am ruining my reputation in here, but my reputation as a convict, as a prisoner, even as a right guy among the people in here is nothing to me. When I am outside I have a reputation, but in here I worry about my mind. Perry is helping me a lot. I’m learning a lot from him and I expect to learn more.
As long as I have known Perry he’s kept only one friend of his that he had when he first came in. I was surprised when he came up and first began talking to me. He said hello and sat down by me and started talking. I would never be angry with him. I never really despised him. He’s never touched me as long as we’ve been going around together. O, he’s touched my hair occasionally and my arm, but it never went further than that. I touch his arm every now and then when we are getting in line. When we sit outside we sit some place where we are alone, where no one is around, and we talk together. Sometimes I listen while he reads, and usually a lot of fellows come around looking at us and they make remarks like, “The two lovers are outside,” or something like that. Yesterday or the day before Carlson and some other friends of mine were telling me I shouldn’t hang around with Perry, but I think I know what I am doing and what’s the best thing for me. C—— is perfectly right in what he said about Perry today. I know he dislikes him and Perry dislikes C——. C—— says Perry likes to impress people that he has a little more intelligence than they have. One day he remarked to me that it was dangerous, that I might become like Perry, that I might try to impress people that I am smarter than they are. I know I’m smarter than a lot of them but I am dumber than most of them. One time Perry told me that C—— is too old, he can’t think, his mind is all set. He knows Greek and Latin and when he gets into an argument he brings out his Greek and Latin and throws it at you and dazzles you; you don’t understand what he said and it gives him time to think up a good answer for you.
I don’t intend to stop associating with Perry. I think he’s alright. He’s different.
When I first came in here I didn’t want to talk to anybody or bother with anyone. I just read a lot until Dobriski and I got acquainted. We went to school together and we lived in the same cell-block and because of this we became good friends. He doesn’t like Perry very much but he tells me he does. What he means is that since I like him, he might as well like him too.
I’m having a lot of fun with this thing with Perry. He says he loves me and whenever he leaves me he calls me darling. He tells me that I am timid and shy, but I know I’m a lot cooler than what he thinks.
I hate people when they say something about my eyes. When I hear someone say anything about my eyes right away I guard myself against them. I don’t care what they say, whether it’s bad or good, it’s always bad. That’s why I like to keep by myself. I’m my own best company.
There is one other fellow I dislike very much because there was some trouble with him and some other fellows about a knife, and somebody did some talking, and then there was an incident about a crap game, and the officer in charge of the work detail where he worked accused everybody except this fellow. I hate this fellow very much. He reminds me of a cur or some other animal. The reason I let Perry say he is in love with me is to make him keep away from some of these other fellows like this one I’m speaking about. The one reason I listen to him and let him tell me those things is so he stays away from this other fellow. He’s a young kid and he’s doing a long time. He lost a year of his Good Time already and he’s only been here a year. If Perry hangs around with him he’ll get himself into trouble, so I let him tell me that he is in love with me as long as he listens to me. I told him I dislike this fellow and I told him why. I said I sure dislike anyone who takes advantage of other people when they are in a place where they can’t help themselves. I said a man can’t help himself in here. A fellow is just like a rat when he takes advantage. Perry knew what I meant. I was insinuating that he shouldn’t say anything about anyone in here. He knew I meant that he shouldn’t associate with this fellow.
Once in a while Dobriski used to talk about breaking out of jail and going to South America. So I would talk to him; first I would agree with him and after I had quieted him down some I’d switch back to magazines. He’s a fine boy, big, blond, around twenty-five. When he had his birthday in November I got him ten cigars and wrapped them up and sent them to him with a note. He must have been happy to know that someone was thinking of his birthday. He’s a very good friend and I don’t see how I could have forgotten his birthday. Ten cigars mean nothing to me. I guess I could afford them but I couldn’t put a price on all the friendship I have received from him. I like him but he takes advantage of me. When we get into an argument he is on my side and then switches over on me. One time I remember we were walking outside and he and another fellow wanted to play rolling balls down in the stockade. I didn’t want to go and he coaxed me. Finally I decided to go. We were playing about an hour or so and got into an argument over some points. This other fellow said something about my eyes. I didn’t like it and quit. That night I told Dobriski, “I don’t have to tell you what you should do. You have to use your own judgment. If you want to hang around with this fellow, go away from me.” So we didn’t speak for a few months. I will never forget what this fellow said. It’s easy for me to hate people if they mention something about my eyes. I agitate myself. I make it worse. I create a hate for them and I don’t want to speak to them or even look at them.
If
Dobriski does anything like that again I have to hate him. He’s a fine fellow and all that so I don’t think he’ll let me hate him. We’re friends, just like brothers. We’ve argued with each other, we’ve had some fights, but we never came to blows. He used to hang around with some people I despise. I despise their actions, their speech, their stupidity. Of course that’s purely personal. They say something about my eyes that I dislike and I agitate myself and I hate them. Dobriski keeps associating with them and it hurts me more. About two weeks ago we were sitting outside, Perry and I, and Dobriski and another fellow came over. He knows I hate this guy: I told Dobriski to keep him away a long time ago. This Sunday he sat beside me I was sore and I got angry and told this fellow to go away. Dobriski put his arm around me and Perry got sore then. When they went away Perry said I should have more consideration for his feelings; not to make love when he is around.
That was funny. Perry imagines he is in love with me. He calls me a hypocrite, says I hurt his character. Some day, I guess, I’m going to take a swing at him, and I’m going to tell him he doesn’t love me because he calls me a hypocrite. When Perry finds something wrong with me again I’ll tell him that …
THE SIXTEENTH HOUR
I belonged to the Boy Scouts when I went to the Catholic school, and I used to pal around with a fellow by the name of Wally. He was a year older than I. We’d go swimming together and I remember one time we made a boat and his mother broke it up because she was afraid we’d take it out. My two cousins belonged to the same gang with us. Most of the fellows had air rifles and we’d shoot out billboard lights and street lights. When I hung around with these kids we played hookey a lot. I remember hiding my books in the barn, the club house, and then we’d go down to the river to swim and play around. We’d go into some old house and strip it of all metals and get some money that way.
Rebel Without a Cause Page 13
