The Final Adversary

by Gilbert, Morris

  Now as he followed Manners out of the carpet-weaving area, Barney felt certain that he was in for another punishment—though he could not think of any cause he had given. Manners, however, didn’t turn toward the area where punishment was dealt out, but rather toward the section of the prison where the warden and other administrators had their offices.

  Barney had cleaned the offices a few times before being placed in the carpet-weaving room, but now as he followed the guard to the first floor, he became wary. He was like an animal that had been mistreated to absolute submission. Unable to see good in a change, he sullenly shuffled along with the guard. Manners stopped before a door marked WARDEN. He opened it and stepped inside, saying, “Step in, Winslow.”

  Barney entered the room, and a man in a dark suit looked up from a desk against the wall. “All right, Manners, you can go,” he said.

  Surprised, Manners asked, “Hadn’t I better wait to take the prisoner back?”

  “No,” he said, waving at the door. “Go along now!” When the guard left, he turned to Barney. “Go on in, Winslow—through that door.”

  Barney approached the door and hesitated. “Go on in!” the warden repeated. The confused prisoner opened the door and found himself in a medium-sized room with two large windows allowing so much light he was dazzled for a moment. As he tried to clear his vision, a man standing by the windows said, “Visitors for you, Winslow.”

  A movement from the left side of the room caught his eye, and he turned. His parents!

  His mother rushed to him, her eyes filled with tears, and caught him in a hard embrace. He stood as if transfixed, his mind unable to grasp what was happening. Then his father came forward and put his arm on Barney’s shoulder.

  Warden Sam Muntz watched the scene with interest. Nothing like it had ever happened in his time—or in any other warden’s time so far as he knew. He looked at the paper on his desk, thinking how shocked he’d been when he read the governor’s personal note, ending with the words: You may release the prisoner, Barney Winslow, at once, for he has been fully pardoned by my hand.

  Now he said, “Well, this is a private time. I’ll leave you three alone.”

  “Barney! You’re free!” Lola cried.

  “Free?”

  “Yes,” Mark said, opening his arms wide. “You’ve gotten a pardon from the governor.”

  Barney stood there, unable to comprehend it. Finally he whispered, “How can that be?”

  “It’s your mother’s doing, Barney,” Mark said. “She won’t even tell me how she did it.”

  “Barney, I’m so happy for you!” Lola said, tears running down her face as she held him.

  Barney looked at them in unbelief. Then Mark said quickly, “Let’s get you out of here, son. We can talk later.”

  It took two hours to get through all the red tape, but at the end of that time Barney walked out of the iron gates with his parents. He was very thin and had said almost nothing. While he had been getting processed, Mark had said to Lola, “He looks bad, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes—but it’ll be all right now,” she’d replied.

  As they walked to the horse and carriage Mark had driven to the prison, both of them were somewhat subdued—and afraid. The change in their son was heartbreaking. Barney turned and stared at the gray stone walls, his sunken eyes void of expression.

  “Come on, Barney,” Lola urged. “I can’t wait to get you home! I’ll make you forget this awful place!”

  Barney looked at her, then back at the walls of Sing Sing.

  “No. I’ll never forget this place,” he said quietly. Then he turned and shuffled toward the carriage. Though they rode away, it seemed as if the prison in the background stayed with them.

  Mark thought, We’ve gotten Barney out of prison—but it might not be so easy to get the prison out of Barney!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Homecoming for Barney

  “He doesn’t seem to have any—well, any life about him, does he, Mother?”

  Andy was sitting across from her, watching the nimble fingers as she sewed. He had come to tell about the last stages of his seminary work, only a few months left. As usual, he had a fine record and was glowing with excitement. He had led his class academically, and had been an assistant pastor for one of the prominent pastors in New York the past year.

  But now, Lola saw as she looked at Andy, there was a puzzled frown on his brow. He had spoken with great vigor of how things were going to be different for Barney, now that he was out of prison. “I’ll take him in hand,” he had said confidentially to his parents. “Barney just needs a little push, to give him confidence, you know?”

  His attempts had failed utterly. Barney had not been receptive to any of Andy’s attempts to rehabilitate him. He had flatly refused to go to church, which had surprised Andy, for he expected Barney’s miraculous release would bring out a surge of gratefulness in his older brother. But that had not happened. Barney had not committed his life to the Lord. In fact, he wanted nothing to do with God—or any part of religion.

  How different my two sons are, Lola thought. Aloud she said, “He needs time, Andy. After all, it was a terrible experience for him, and we have no conception of what he went through. He has said little of his treatment, but seeing his physical and mental state it must have been agonizing.”

  “Well, sure—but it’s been over a month.” Andrew spoke of that span with all the impatience of youth. He himself had encountered no terrible problems, and lacked understanding of those who had. But he would have been highly insulted if anyone had mentioned this to him, for he considered himself a highly competent counselor, able to deal with any problem.

  “You’ll just have to be patient,” Lola insisted. “God’s working in his life.”

  “I don’t see much evidence of it! He won’t even come to hear me preach,” Andy protested.

  Lola smiled. “He’s missing great sermons, I’m sure. But sometimes people need more than preaching.”

  “Like what?” Andy asked aggressively.

  “Oh, love, I think.”

  The answer galled Andy. “That’s a simplification, Mother,” he protested. “After all, God can do only so much. A fellow has to make an effort, you know!”

  Lola took a careful stitch, then looked up at him. He’s so sure he’s right, she thought. And because he’s always been successful, he can’t enter into the hearts of those who are down. It was a serious failing for a minister, and she tried to get her fears across to him. “Andy, you’ve learned a lot of theology in school, but people aren’t theology. Most of the people who gave Jesus the most trouble had plenty of doctrine, didn’t they?”

  He stiffened. “Mother, are you saying that I’m being a Pharisee?”

  “No, Andy. I’m saying that you’ve been in school so long that you haven’t had time to experience what people are like, to accept them the way they are—the problems they face, how to cope, how to see God as the answer to their need.”

  He began to pace around the room, disturbed by her attitude. He was highly sensitive to criticism, and having received little of it, especially from his mother, could not deal with it well. He paused before her, his eyes puzzled. “I only want the best for Barney,” he said.

  Putting her sewing aside, she walked over and hugged him, then leaned back, smiling. “Don’t you think I know that? Your father and I are so proud of you! But you have one disadvantage.”

  “And that is what?”

  “You’re young,” she said, and laughed at his expression. “But there’s a real cure for that. Next year you’ll be a year older, and soon that beautiful red hair of yours will be all gray.”

  He could never resist her when she smiled at him. “Maybe you’re right, Mother,” he said. “I’ll try to be more patient,” adding, “You can sure take the starch out of a fellow, Mother!”

  “Why don’t you take Barney to a ball game or something? Don’t try to preach at him, Andy. He knows the gospel. What he needs is acceptance.
”

  “I’ll do it!” Andy grinned. As always he was ready to plunge headlong into a new venture. He left the room, his head popping with new ideas for “being patient” with his brother. He found Barney raking leaves. “Hey, Barney, put that rake down.”

  Barney looked up as Andy came across the yard. He smiled slightly, for he had a great affection for his younger brother. The month at home, away from prison, had brought the color to his cheeks and filled him out. But he slept little, and nightmares brought him bolt upright in the bed, bathed in cold sweat.

  “Somebody has to rake the leaves,” he said.

  “Let Pat do it,” Andy said, speaking of the yardman. “He likes it.”

  “So do I,” Barney remarked. “It feels so good out here.”

  Andy looked at Barney, thinking, It’s the little things that seem to give him pleasure. Aloud he said, “It is kind of nice. But I thought you might go with me this afternoon. Not to a service,” he added quickly. “A baseball game. Let’s take it in.”

  Barney smiled. He loved baseball. “I’d like that. Just let me finish raking these leaves.”

  “Go ahead. We’ll leave after lunch.”

  Andy ran back into the house to tell his mother. “All right, boss lady, I did what you said. Barney and I are going to the ball game this afternoon.” He turned, then stopped and grinned. “And I promise not to preach at him!”

  ****

  Andy and Barney enjoyed the game immensely. “That pitcher is something, isn’t he, Andy!” Barney said. “Look at the power in his arm. Wow!”

  “He’s got what it takes,” Andy agreed. “Wish I could play like that.”

  Barney suddenly looked at him. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

  “Why, sure,” Andy said, hope rising in his heart. It was the first effort Barney had made to break his long silence, and Andy was certain his brother was going to open up, maybe even give his heart to the Lord. “Let’s have it, Barney.”

  “I don’t really know where to start. Guess I won’t ever be able to say how much it’s meant to me—getting me out of prison and letting me come home.”

  “Why, it’s been so good—for us, I mean,” Andy said emphatically. “We’re all expecting great things of you.”

  It was the wrong thing to say, a tactless remark that would have made his parents wince.

  Barney shook his head. “I don’t want to disappoint you all again, so what I want to tell you is, I’m going to be moving out.”

  “Moving out!” Andy stared at Barney in disbelief. “Why, you can’t do that!”

  “I can’t do anything else,” he replied. He clasped his big hands in front of him and tried to think of a way to explain how he felt. He had never been good at addressing sensitive issues, especially to Andy, and sweat broke out on his forehead as he struggled for words.

  “Look, Andy, I’ve caused enough trouble for you all. It was bad when I left home the first time. I know you all hated what I was doing, but I had to get away. It was like I was being—I don’t know, squeezed.”

  “It’s your home, Barney. We’re your family.”

  “You are, but I’m just different.” He looked at his brother, adding quietly, “You’re the smartest person I know, Andy, but you’ve never been able to see that I’m not like you.”

  After a moment he went on. “I haven’t told Mom and Dad. They’re going to hate it.”

  Andy was stunned. “What are you going to do?”

  “Same thing. Go back to fighting.” He caught the distaste in Andy’s eyes and said, “Sure, it’s a rotten way to live. But it’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

  Andy wanted to argue, but he saw that Barney’s jaw was stubbornly set. “It’ll be hard on the folks.”

  “I realize that,” Barney murmured. “But I’ve got to do it, Andy. Come on. Let’s go home. I may as well get it over with.”

  ****

  Benny Meyers couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Barney, you’re in no shape to fight. You’re thin, don’t have the muscles. You’d get killed if you stepped inside a ring.”

  “Sure, Benny, I know that,” Barney said. “But I can get in shape. Just give me a chance. I’ve got some money, so all I ask is that you train me until you think I’m ready.”

  Benny chewed on the cigar, debating, then made a quick decision. “Look, Barney, you took it on the chin bad in Sing Sing, I hear. Some don’t never come back from that. There’s lots of guys in the fighting game walkin’ around on their heels, listenin’ to things nobody else hears. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”

  “Just give me a chance,” Barney pleaded.

  Benny threw the cigar on the floor and nodded. “I’ll give you this: You come to the gym for a few weeks. Do what I tell you. Then we’ll see.”

  “Thanks, Benny!”

  “No promises!” Meyers warned. “You don’t fight until I say so.”

  Barney replied eagerly, “You’re the boss, Benny!”

  With joy in his step, Barney left to buy his gear, convinced that he could fight again.

  ****

  “You gonna take the kid on, Benny?” A man named Maxie Plummer had overheard Barney’s request to Meyers.

  “Thinkin’ about it.”

  “Better not waste your time,” Plummer advised. “A good fighter—he’s like a fine watch. One thing goes wrong and it never runs right again. Don’t think the kid can come back.”

  “You may be right, but I’ll give him a chance.”

  ****

  The next morning Barney arrived early at the gym and began his workout. It didn’t take long before both trainer and fighter discovered Barney was not the boxer he had once been.

  “Your timing is off, your punches ain’t got no snap. You’re underweight by at least ten pounds,” Benny complained. “If I was you, Barney, I’d find a good job.”

  “You just give me a month, Benny. You’ll see.”

  Day after day he came in early and stayed late. He worked harder than any fighter Meyers had ever seen, and three weeks later he was getting back his old skills. Meyers commented on it one afternoon. Barney was punching the light bag, making it rattle with a precision that sounded like a drum.

  “Better call it a day, kid,” Benny said. Then he laughed. “Never thought I’d see the day when I’d have to tell a fighter to stop training. You’ve done good, Barney.”

  “Good enough for a fight?”

  “Maybe in two weeks or so.”

  Benny would say no more, so Barney left and decided to celebrate. He had been off liquor since his arrest. That night, though, elated over his progress, he had a few drinks with another fighter—a middle weight named Joe Maddox. They had trained together, and upon meeting went for the bars just like old times. By ten o’clock they were more than a little high.

  “I’ve had enough, Joe,” Barney said.

  “Aw, we’re celebrating, Barney!”

  “You can celebrate without me. I’m going home and get some sleep.”

  He made his way toward the boardinghouse. On both sides of the streets, the bars and gambling joints were doing a roaring business. He stopped mid-stride when he heard his name called.

  “Barney! Barney Winslow!”

  A man rushed up and grabbed Barney in a big embrace. He tried to shake him off, not sure what he wanted. Then he heard a voice from the past.

  “It’s me, dear boy! Awful Gardner!”

  Barney couldn’t believe his eyes. Sure enough, it was Awful! He looked much the same as he had in prison—tall, thin-faced with gray eyes and a full head of black hair.

  “Awful!” Barney cried. “It’s you!”

  “Indeed, it is!” Gardner slapped him on his shoulders, saying, “How good it is to see you!”

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Awful,” Barney said. Then his smile faded as a memory flashed into his mind. “Better than the last time we met in Sing Sing.”

  “ ’Course ’tis better,” Gardner insisted. “Now, let’s g
o where we can talk. Me place is right around the corner.”

  “All right.”

  “But I can’t go for a bit. Got a spot of work to do.”

  “Work? What sort of work, Awful?”

  “Oh, just a bit of my own. Wait right here. Won’t take more than a shake of a duck’s tail!”

  Gardner ran across the street and joined a small group in dark uniforms. Soon the sound of music filled the air. Barney watched as the Salvation Army band played. They had more enthusiasm than skill, he decided, but a crowd soon gathered around them. One song, “Washed in the Blood,” brought back memories of the prison chapel where he’d last heard that song.

  After a while the music stopped with a resounding boom from the big drum, and Awful Gardner stepped up on a small box and began to preach. His voice rose over the crowd gathering around him. “God loves you all! The Lord Jesus died for your sins—for every sinner. And who’s the worst sinner on this bloomin’ street? Me! Awful Gardner! Why, I’ve spilled more liquor than most of you have drunk!”

  As Awful continued to preach, Barney listened. He was a hardened man, not ready to hear any preaching. Yet he had seen Gardner act out his gospel. Here was no high-church preacher, but a con out of Sing Sing, who had been able to keep a sweet spirit in a hell on earth.

  Barney had plenty of arguments against religion and the Bible—but none against Awful Gardner. As he listened to the ex-con expound, Barney thought, He may be wrong about God and the Bible, but he believes it with all his heart!

  Little by little the crowd began to drift away, and Gardner gave them a parting blessing, then came running over to Barney. “Now, dear boy, how about a spot of tea, wot?”

  Barney followed Gardner to his room, a small room in a fairly nice boardinghouse. As they talked, or rather, Gardner did, Awful scurried around, heating water, finding the sugar, pouring the tea, providing a little jam for the small biscuits he set on the table.