The most likely one was my father. I know if my mother had found it she would have said something to me about it: she would probably have hollered at me or even hit me over the head with it.
L: ‘That wasn’t your father’s way?’
No. He would probably just take it and say nothing.
L: ‘But you think it was your father who found it? That he stole your gun?’
Yes. I searched the garage where he usually keeps such things. I searched and searched, went through all his things I could find but didn’t discover it.
L: ‘Let me recapitulate, Harold. You had a gun, and you say it represents a phallus. You put this away, you bury it somewhere and your father discovers it. Your next act, your next move, was to take a mirror and place it over the hole where you buried the gun; but the mirror was broken, something was missing. Therefore, when you looked in the mirror a part of what you saw was missing. Is that right? What do you make of it?’
I make of it this. The gun was my phallus and I wanted to hide it because my father would steal it like he stole the other gun when I was home. He had the razor in his hand and he was shaving so maybe he was going to cut it off, take it away from me that way. The broken mirror shows that something of me was missing, I guess, because when I would look in it I would see part of myself missing. That part is the gun, I mean the phallus. But maybe there is another interpretation.
L: ‘Go right ahead.’
My father has black hair and so does Perry. Maybe it represents a secret desire to have intercourse with Perry. It isn’t clear how and I think the first one is better but I just thought of this. Sometime ago I told Perry that I woke up in the morning with my hands around my pillow, that I had a wonderful dream. He begged me to tell him what it was. I guess he thought I dreamed about him. It seems strange: a hole in the concrete wall. You know them, those concrete blocks that cells are built with.
L: ‘It was a difficult job to get into them?’
I don’t remember. I recall laying it in there, not in the box or wrapped in cotton; I just laid it in there and then hung the mirror right over the hole.
Anytime I was with Perry or am with him now it stimulates me. I try to run away from him when it comes to a point where I can’t control myself. I don’t try to force myself on him. It wouldn’t be difficult for me to—to have intercourse with him. He seems to think that everything I do is planned out; that I only talk to him when somebody is likely to interrupt us. I would say that I don’t know whether it was or was not difficult for me, all I’d have to tell him would be that I am in love with him. He tells me that he watches my actions. When I say something he doesn’t pay any attention to what I am saying but how I say things, the muscles of my face and neck, and how I use my hands.…
THE THIRTIETH HOUR
I didn’t get along well with many of the kids in the school. A lot of them would laugh at me: they seemed to squint their eyes when they looked at me, so I wouldn’t say anything, just turn and walk away.
In H—— Street school especially I didn’t like to sit in the sunlight. There was a fellow that sat with me way back in the classroom in the arithmetic class and when I couldn’t see the blackboard he’d give me the examples and I’d do the work. When I was at St. A——’s in the fifth grade another fellow that sat with me would copy everything from the board and give me the problems. I never did any copying from the board there. I’d make believe I was writing when really I was drawing pictures or scribbling, and once in a while the sister would catch me and I’d get punished. It always seemed to me that the sister was picking on me. Sometimes when I knew something was going to happen, when I didn’t have my lessons or something like that, I’d play truant; I just wouldn’t go to school. One time when I was playing hookey my mother was walking down the street and she saw me. She didn’t call to me or anything: she waited until after I came home from school and then she gave me a licking. At that time I had the habit of shielding my eyes against the sun by holding my hand to my forehead. My mother made me break that habit: I guess it made her feel uneasy when I did that.…
All that I can remember about living in P—— is that my father had a business of—O—re-treading tires. I don’t know much about it. He had a truck, just a small truck, and he used to go around and come home with a truckload of tires, all used. He’d put them on a machine that used to—go around and round and round and make new tires of them. I don’t know why we moved from P—— because we had a—well, it wasn’t exactly a house, it was by itself but it had glass windows on it. It was on the side of a road. There were a lot of other houses around there. They all seem away from ours. Our house looks like—like a store. It must have been in a small town somewhere. The truck was in the back of the house. The machine was in the store where he fixed the tires, I don’t know how it worked out, but when we were moving back we took the machine with us. My father was going to start a business where we went but I don’t recall that he did. When we got there he got a job as a truck driver. I think we moved after my grandfather’s death. I remember once when I looked up at the third story of a house I saw somebody at the window and someone told me it was my grandmother.
During the recounting of the history from this point to the end of the hour there was evident distinct physical struggle to recall. Harold’s face and neck became flushed, his fists were clenched and unclenched with spasm-like consistency, he moaned and made inarticulate sounds and stirred on the couch as if in pain. These memories were undoubtedly painful to him.
My aunts weren’t very big then, one was about fourteen, one about ten or eleven. They were both going to school, a Catholic school, St. C——’s. My aunt Louise once took me, long before I started school myself; she took me to the Polish school where she was going and I sat between her and the girl she was sitting with. I remember I started playing with the inkwell, banging the little steel flap on it, and the sister hollered that I was making too much noise and I hid underneath the bench. The sister was in black and she had one of those white things around her head. When I first came in the sister wanted to hear me pray and I couldn’t even speak Polish. I could understand it a little because my father used to speak it. My aunt was sitting not very far back, about four seats back, with another girl. She was fatter than my aunt was but I don’t know what color her hair was. My aunt was on the left side of me, the other girl on the right. I know when she was writing I pushed her arm and I started playing with the inkwell and the sister started hollering at me that I was making too much noise and I hid underneath the bench. I know that. I can’t remember if there was anybody else in the room but it seems to me there were around twenty boys and girls. This was long before I started school. I know it was one afternoon and I still remember my aunt asking my mother if she could take me. My own sister was a little baby then and my mother wanted to go to the movies so my aunt volunteered to take me to school with her. I remember I got tired walking: it was too far away; I didn’t want to go and I told her that I was tired walking. I don’t think I slept in the school. I was watching everybody. After the sister hollered at me I got my head up again from under the bench and looked around. I even looked out of the window for a time. The sister was interested whether I could pray or not and I hid behind my aunt. I know I used to be able to pray. My mother taught me. I remember when I was about ten my sister got a licking for laughing about something, I don’t remember what it was, when my mother was teaching us how to pray. I wanted to laugh too sometimes but I saw my sister get a licking and so I thought better of it. The classroom that my aunt was in had big double seats, two in a seat. My aunt Louise liked me a lot, even when I was that small. She used to take me out to the park near home and when she wanted to give me a drink of water she’d hold me up. You know, I must have been about two or three when my aunt took me to school. I’m sure I wasn’t very much older than that anyway.
I know my mother went to the movies a lot. She used to hold my sister when she was a baby yet. I was I guess about three or fou
r and I used to cry I wanted to go home, to go out of there; it always scared me.
When I lived on S—— Street we had a porch that was elevated from the ground about two feet. We had a clubhouse there and we kept milk bottles and soda bottles that we could get a nickel on there. We had everything in that clubhouse, dirt, junk, an old car seat, parts of bicycles, things like that. We stole much of that stuff. Sometimes we would break into a lunch wagon. It was easy. You take hold of the lock and you put a spike about eight inches long inside and you press down on the lock and the lock snaps open. Then we’d steal maybe ten bottles of soda, then close the lock and everything would be o.k. One time when I was about thirteen my father gave me a beating and I ran out of the house and didn’t go home that night. I got hungry and came back to the lunch wagon to steal something to eat, a bottle of soda, a couple of cans of milk. When coming through the lot I saw my uncle and he started chasing me. I ran. I jumped over some fences and ran as fast as I could, but he must have been just as fast as I was. He caught me and took me home. So I got another beating and went to bed.
I never liked my father much. If I cared to say something to him and he didn’t understand me he gave me a dirty look. If I played truant my mother would give me a beating and tell my father about it and he would holler at me, call me a bum. Sometimes I would lie to him and he’d find out I lied and call me a liar. So I found that the best thing I could do was just to keep quiet, say as little as possible to my father, never go into details about anything. I seldom saw him: I seldom spoke to him. When I was older I used to see him maybe once a week on Sunday mornings. Now I can remember that every once in a while I would catch my mother and him arguing about me but I would say nothing to him. Everytime I went out of the house I didn’t care what happened. I’d got so I’d go to a poolroom or something like that, get drunk. I was so sick of everything I didn’t care whether I had a job or even looked for one.…
My cousin Emma, she was about five years older than I am, she was Riggs’ sister, used to mind us when we were kids. I was about twelve then I guess, but she was really there to watch my sister Anna. I remember I used to sit in a place where I could look up her dress. She knew it too, and I knew she knew it, but she didn’t seem to mind much. She’d see me look at her like that and she didn’t care. I didn’t get very far with her. She was older than me and she treated me like a kid. She had straw hair and bowlegs; not very nice. One time I wrote a dirty note to her and asked her to come under the porch with me and I’d lay her. My uncle found the note. It had my name on it. I denied it but I got a beating anyway. But everything was forgotten in three or four days. I said to her I knew who wrote it and I told her some guy’s name. I didn’t even know any fellow by such a name.…
THE THIRTY-FIRST HOUR
Lately my eyes feel sort of heavy; they feel like they burn, they burn in the sunlight. I never liked to go out in the sun. I always kept them sort of closed during the daytime. I liked to go out at night when they’d stay open all the time and they wouldn’t burn like they do in the daytime. But whenever I went out during the day I liked to go out by myself and not bother with anybody. That’s why when I went out at night it was different. I hung out with a gang of fellows from P—— Street or went to a poolroom. I liked to stay on the river most of the day, go in with one or two other fellows swimming or boating all day. It just seemed that I didn’t want any people around me, didn’t care for their company; they were boring. I didn’t like to ride in a car either. It would make me sick. Whenever I went anywhere I hitched with Riggs. One time we went all the way to P—— and back. Sometimes when I was playing truant from school I’d get a hitch over to N——, hang around the docks all day and come back by night. One time I had a pair of glasses on—I was about twelve then—and I was running on the street after the truck and Riggs was with me. He got ahold of it and jumped on, and I remember the truck stopped real sudden and I ran right into it and I broke the glasses. The guy must have seen me trying to get the hitch through his mirror.
My cousin Riggs and myself and three other guys were planning one time to get a hitch on a freight train. The other fellows went; I didn’t. They came back two days later. I didn’t feel like going on a freight car. I don’t think I ever rode on one for more than three miles. We’d get hitches on the railroad from one town to another, about three miles. The whole gang would ride back and forth. Sometimes when I’d get sick of staying home, or of school, I’d leave for a couple days or a week, but I never got any hitches on freight trains. I guess I was afraid of them: they were so dirty, filthy, and a lot of bums hang out on them. I got all my hitching done on trucks. One time I went hitching out to my aunt’s place and that’s more than eighty miles from home. I got back two days later. I remember I stopped off on the side of the highway and there was a roadside stand. It was closed so I broke in and got something to eat. Then I took my clothes off and went swimming in a little lake nearby. I liked to go off like that once in a while. I enjoyed myself. If I wanted to go swimming I went swimming: if I wanted to hitch I’d hitch. I didn’t care anything about money, whether I had any or not, or about eating. Sometimes I’d get so hungry I’d eat anything.
The first time I left home I guess I was about nine or ten. My cousin Benny and me left home together. He had about two dollars and we went to a show that night and then just hung around. We didn’t go back to the house until our people found us and took us home.
Every once in a while when I was home I got the feeling that I didn’t want to stay there; I wanted to be by myself. My mother used to worry about me. She’d cry. I guess all mothers worry about their sons.
I didn’t get along with my father. Sometimes I wouldn’t talk to my sisters or my mother for three or four days. I felt out of place, so I would put on my hat and coat and go out. I didn’t care where I went. I walked out on the street and if I turned one way I kept on going that way. That’s the way it was. I guess when I was between fourteen and eighteen I left home most: I’d leave every three or four months.
I remember my uncle was going to take me down to South America when I was around seventeen. He was going to collect his bonus, about a thousand dollars, and he told me he was going to take me to South America. But he was going to get his bonus in June and the February before that he got killed. So we didn’t go. He always tried to keep me away from kids he didn’t like. He knew I’d get in a lot of trouble with them. He told me to leave guns alone, that I’d get in trouble with them, and that I shouldn’t steal things. I thought more of him than anyone else. He would hold up for me when my mother hollered and when she gave me a beating. He always had lots of arguments with my father about things. We’d drink together. All I know is that sometimes he got so drunk that he couldn’t stand on his feet and I had to take him home. He’d get so drunk I’d take him down the cellar where there was an old bed and he’d sleep it off there. My mother always fixed him up so when he’d go home my grandmother wouldn’t notice anything. He didn’t care about anything. He was married about ten years but separated from his wife for a long time. He just didn’t give one damn about a thing. When he was working and he wanted to quit he’d quit. Then he’d drink and quit everything but drinking.
I used to play with a kid named Rickert. He seemed to me like a sissy, not like a tough kid. I guess he was the smartest one in the classroom. He would always sit up near the front. Sometimes I’d be sitting near the center. In the English class he was the smartest one, all the girls were around him. Sometimes when the teacher would want to punish somebody she’d put them in a seat where he was surrounded by all the little girls. That was the punishment for them. I got punished sometimes like that and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like to sit with girls all around and on every side of me.
When I lived on F—— Street I must have been three or four. I don’t remember much about my father then. I know my mother was younger looking. She wasn’t so stout as she is now. My sister used to be in the cradle and sometimes I would touch her or somethi
ng and my mother would holler at me for touching her, bothering her while she was asleep.
When we were living in P—— I know the house——to me it was like a two-story house. I don’t know how many rooms there were. I know it looked like a store in front. On the first floor there were the windows and there used to be the machine that my father worked on automobile tires with, and in the back there was a room with a lot of tools in it.
Sometimes I used to see—my mother—feeding my sister—from—her—breasts. I guess my sister was just a little baby. My mother— used to feed her—through her—breasts—and—and I— used to—watch. I don’t know how long we were living there. I guess my sister was about five months old then; younger than that, maybe three months. She was born in B——. I remember now that my father had a relative in P——. I guess that’s why we moved there and—and he couldn’t speak English very well. I know sometimes my mother used to argue with my father because she had to talk for this relative.
This entire section was delivered haltingly and with apparent strain.
My mother used to tell me that when they were first married my father beat her and she left him. The first time was when she took us, my sister and myself, to my grandmother’s house. That was when we were living on B—— Street. I was about four then and my sister was about two. She separated from him but my grandmother made her go back.
When we lived in P—— my father had a truck. He’d go out and buy a lot of old tires and I’d see all different kinds and sizes and shapes, big and small. Once he made me sit in one and turned me around and I fell out. He told me to hold on when he turned me upside down. I was alright but when going over again I fell out. I can hear—I can hear him say something—something—I can’t make it out. He said something like “bad kid … crying.” And sometimes he’d holler at my mother in front of me. All I know is I used to wear a dress then and stay close to my mother. My mother—was a beautiful—she was a beautiful woman then.
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