A Savage Wisdom

by Norman German

  A SAVAGE WISDOM

  by

  Norman German

  Copyright © 2008 by Norman German

  All Rights Reserved

  THUNDER RAIN PUBLISHING

  Thibodaux, LA

  A Savage Wisdom was inspired by

  the life, crime, and legends of Annie Beatrice McQuiston,

  also known as Toni Jo Henry,

  the only woman executed in Louisiana’s electric chair.

  A Savage Wisdom is an imaginative reconstruction

  of Toni Jo Henry’s legend.

  I have, however, used the actual names and aliases

  of the murderess and her victim

  and the fact that the killing took place on

  Valentine’s Day, 1940.

  All other names and incidents are fictional.

  The novel is dedicated to

  the daughter of Toni Jo Henry

  . . .

  if she exists

  And to my mother,

  for her gentle wisdom.

  PART ONE

  “No man is clever enough to know all the evil he does.”

  La Rochefoucauld, Maxims

  But never met this Fellow

  Attended, or alone

  Without a tighter breathing

  And Zero at the Bone—

  Emily Dickinson

  Prologue

  (From the article reporting Annie McQuiston’s execution,

  November 28, 1942.)

  VALENTINE’S DAY MURDERESS FINALLY HAS DATE

  WITH ELECTRIC CHAIR

  Mrs. Annie Beatrice McQuiston, smiling but silent to the end, paid with her life early this afternoon in the electric chair for the brutal slaying three years ago of Joseph P. Calloway, 43-year-old Houston salesman.

  At exactly 12:12, the big switch was thrown home to send 20,000 volts of current flowing through her body, making her the only woman executed in Louisiana’s electric chair.

  She died in the dim corridor of the parish jail house where “Little Sizzler,” the state’s portable electric chair, had been set up.

  The executioner quickly set about the job of fastening the electrodes about her body. The brine soaked cap was placed on her head.

  “Goodbye, father,” she said, looking up at Father Richard. “You’ll be here, won’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ll be right here,” the priest answered.

  McQuiston joked with the executioner as he fastened buckles that clamped her arms and legs to the big oaken chair. Finally, he completed his job.

  “Do you have anything to say,” Deputy Sheriff Reid asked her.

  “No, I haven’t,” she answered in a low steady voice, still smiling.

  Her face was thinner than three years ago when she was arrested. Her eyes were somewhat sunken from a sleepless night. Her lips were painted and her eyebrows distinct.

  At 12:11, a big leather mask covering all her face save her nose was fastened to her head. The executioner stepped quickly aside and pushed in the switch that sent the current surging through her body.

  Her body trembled slightly, and her fists clenched tightly, a small handkerchief crammed into one of them.

  McQuiston had little sleep Friday night, officers reported. Saturday morning she ate a light breakfast as her last meal and donned her freshly cleaned dress, a simple black garment with gold buttons down the front.

  At 11:25, Athas Coe, a Lake Charles barber, was taken to her cell. She protested when told that all the hair on her head would be clipped off, but submitted peaceably as Coe quickly performed his job.

  When she left her cell at 12:05, she had covered her head with a gay red, white, and green bandanna. Not until the leg and arm bands were fastened and it was time to put on the brine-soaked cap was it removed. She appeared interested in every move the executioner made as he prepared to take her life in the name of the state.

  Exactly at twelve, the big generators on the truck outside were turned on and at the same instant the bells of the nearby church began ringing.

  Early in the evening of February 14, 1940, Joseph P. Calloway was driving from Houston to Lake Charles. At home in Houston were his wife and nine-year-old daughter. At Orange, Texas, he stopped to pick up two hitchhikers, a man and a woman. The woman was Annie McQuiston.

  Holding a gun to Calloway’s head, McQuiston told him to stop beside a barren rice field with a haystack. Calloway was taken into the field and he either took off his clothes at their orders or he was stripped. He begged for his life. He got down on his bare knees in the frozen earth and asked to pray.

  Four days later, his body was found, his legs still drawn under him, just as they had been when he pitched forward on his face, with a hole, made by a .32 bullet, between his eyes.

  No motive was ever established for the murder.

  *

  Chapter One

  Valentine’s Day, 1940

  To make up for what he had done, Arkie Burk took his wife to see Gone With the Wind at the Presidio in Houston, Texas. For the first hour of the drive home, Toni Jo, in her over-excited condition, reviewed the movie’s scenes, jumping back and forth in the movie’s time, confusing actors with characters, speaking of Scarlett O’Hara, Clark Gable, Ashley Wilkes, and Olivia De Havilland.

  As they drove through Liberty, Toni Jo said, “Wouldn’t it have been grand to live back then, Arkie?” She didn’t expect her husband to reply and didn’t allow him the opportunity as she went on to talk about the burning-of-Atlanta scene, wondering how they had made it so realistic, “and those poor horses, you know they weren’t acting, they were really afraid of the fire, do you think that’s cruel, Arkie,” and she didn’t give him a chance to answer that question, either.

  Toni Jo tensely recounted the scene where Scarlett shoots a Yankee deserter, then imitated Butterfly McQueen’s squeaky voice saying, “I don’t know nothing ’bout birthing babies.”

  By the time Arkie reached Beaumont, the emotional ups and downs of Scarlett and Rhett’s story finally took their toll on his wife’s nerves and she wound down to a happily fatigued mood. Slowly, Toni Jo slumped in the seat and fell asleep ten miles from Orange, leaving Arkie alone with his thoughts and the humming of tires on blacktop.

  Arkie Burk could hardly believe his good fortune. While he watched sporadic lightning fulminating in the northeast, he took an inventory of his life. He had a successful business, a beautiful wife, and would have children in no time. What more could a man want? The Germans were kicking up a stir in Europe, but that was a world away, and when Hitler went too far, they’d spank him back to the hinterlands in a minute. The country was finally climbing out of the Great Depression, and those boys in Washington were making sure it would never happen again. Earlier in the decade, J. Edgar Hoover’s G-men had taken care of public enemies like Capone, Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, and Baby Face Nelson, and the New Deal would take care of this problem. They weren’t so dumb after all.

  Burk caught himself smiling into the night and laughed at himself. He checked his wife to see if he had disturbed her slumber. She looked like a dark-haired angel. The lightning crackled across the sky like a spider web.

  On the Texas side of the Sabine River, a lone man stood with a thumb in the air, holding his hat down against the wind. Burk had picked up speed to charge the steep bridge when his headlights revealed the hitchhiker. He let up on the accelerator and moved his foot toward the brake, then put it back on the accelerator. Suddenly, he felt sorry for the drifter about to get soaked. He had never been so content, and his happiness transformed into a feeling of generosity and compassion. He braked hard and passed the hitchhiker, then eased back until he came even with the man, who climbed into the back seat.

  Burk stayed in second to the top of the bridge, w
here he shifted into third as he crossed the state line. He was going seventy when the car hit level ground with a bump, then settled into a dreamy float just as a pregnant cloud’s water broke.

  Burk adjusted the rearview mirror.

  “You’re a lucky man if I ever saw one.”

  “Guess so,” the man said as he took off his hat and ran his fingers through thinning hair. “Thanks for the ride.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m just going to Lake Charles.”

  “That’s fine,” the stranger said. “Much obliged.”

  “From around here?”

  “Hereabouts.”

  When the lightning flashed, Arkie glanced in the mirror. The man didn’t look too clean, but he was friendly enough. He had a week’s growth of whiskers about to call itself a beard, and despite a gaunt face, his eyes seemed alert.

  “Smoke?”

  “Thanks, no.”

  “Don’t feel obliged to talk,” Arkie said. “Some don’t like to. I can respect that.”

  The man nodded. “Thanks. I’m a man of few words.”

  Burk drove silently for fifteen minutes.

  Toni Jo stretched and yawned. She gazed at her husband and smiled.

  “Are we getting close yet? I have to pee.”

  “Shh,” Burk said, signaling over his shoulder with his thumb. “We got company.”

  Toni Jo peered over the back seat.

  “Oh, sorry. No offense.”

  “Don’t mention it,” the stranger said.

  She looked at Burk, who explained, “He’s a man of few words.”

  “Oh.” Toni Jo turned the radio on and skimmed around for a station. Even though the storm was behind them now, each lightning flash sparked through the speaker. She stopped at a song she liked, “Address Unknown,” by the Ink Spots, then grew irritated at the bad reception. Finally she turned the radio off. She leaned back and rested her head. A sign read, “Lake Charles 5 mi.” Toni Jo closed her eyes and resigned herself to the wait. She had almost drifted off when the stranger drew her back with a song. Toni Jo’s eyes lifted in horror.

  He was humming “Rock of Ages.”

  Her heart pounded. She locked her head straight forward, telling herself it couldn’t be him. A lump of anxiety rose in her throat. She swallowed and tried to think what the stranger had looked like. Scruffy beard, thinning hair, skinny. It couldn’t be him. The stranger continued to hum, distracting her thoughts. The tone of his voice was familiar, with a difference.

  Toni Jo looked at the glove box. She convinced herself it was him. They were approaching Lake Charles. She would have to do something fast.

  “Arkie, take this road up here on the right.” Her voice trembled.

  “Toni, we’re almost there. Can’t you wait?”

  “Take it!” she screamed.

  The stranger quit humming.

  Burk knew something was dreadfully wrong. It had been nearly a year since he had seen his wife in such a state. He turned onto the shell road.

  “Where?” he said.

  Toni Jo scanned until she saw a drive leading into a rice field.

  “There! Stop by that tractor.”

  The car halted and she leapt from her door. Arkie had barely shut his when she clutched him by the shirt.

  “It’s him. The hitchhiker. It’s Harold.”

  “Harold?” Burk squinted at the dark windows. “Don’t be absurd, Baby. It couldn’t—.”

  “Listen to me!” She yanked his shirt with the strength of a man. “I know him. I’m telling you, it’s him.” In a loud whisper, Toni Jo said, “Do something!”

  “First, we’ve got to find out if it’s him. What do you want me to do?”

  “Kill him! I want you to kill the lousy bastard.” It was the first time Burk had ever heard his wife curse.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said.

  “Get him out here so we can look at him,” Toni Jo ordered. Burk opened his door. He reached in and pulled the keys from the ignition.

  “Say, buddy, sorry for the trouble, but would you mind stepping out for a minute? It seems we got a little problem.”

  The stranger opened his door and stepped into the night.

  “Come around here,” Burk directed him. “Okay, stop there.”

  He stood in the floodlight of the car’s far beam. A fine mist drifted in the yellow cone. The man was stooped and haggard, his hair much thinner than it had seemed inside the car. His suit was clean but ill-fitting.

  Burk spoke quietly to Toni Jo. “It’s too short for him. And his hair was thicker than that.”

  “I don’t care. It’s him. Tell him to take off his shirt. He’s got tattoos.”

  Burk answered softly in a high pitch. “Are you out of your mind? He’s just an old bum.”

  “Harold,” she accused. “Take off your shirt!”

  The man looked across the light. He glanced down at his shirt and back at the woman.

  Leaving his coat on, he unbuttoned the shirt.

  “Open it!” Toni Jo called.

  The stranger flared one side of the shirt out. Toni Jo squinted across the lights. His chest was dark and sickly looking.

  Toni Jo glanced up at her husband. “I don’t care,” she said. “It’s him. I know it’s him.”

  “Toni, come to your senses.”

  Her anger revived. “Come here!” she commanded the stranger. The man moved through the light. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

  “Ma’am—.”

  “Don’t ma’am me, you bastard con man. Open your shirt.” The stranger looked down. He opened his shirt and looked at Toni Jo. His chest was crisscrossed with ridges of scars.

  Burk winced. “Toni, there’s no tattoo there.”

  “You idiot! He took it off.” She glared at the stranger. “Not this time, you swine. You’re tricky, but not this time. Take off your coat. And your shirt.”

  The man pulled them off simultaneously. The coat dropped to the muddy ground. One side of the shirt remained in his trousers.

  “Turn around!”

  The man stared at her placidly, as if he would never harm a soul, then pivoted slowly, moving one foot, then the other, deliberately, like an old man. His back was also a field of swollen scars.

  “Why did you take them off?”

  The stranger turned around and gazed calmly into Toni Jo’s eyes.

  “Because it was an abomination in the sight of the Lord.”

  “What-? What do you think I am, an idiot?”

  “Harold,” Burk said, “is it really you?”

  Without moving his head, the man shifted his eyes to Burk. “Much obliged for the ride, Arkie. I’ll be moving along now.” He stooped to gather his coat.

  “No!” Toni Jo said. “You’re not getting away this time. Stay right there.”

  Careful to avoid him, she walked around the back of the car and opened her door. She popped the glove compartment, reached past the papers, and grabbed the pistol by its barrel.

  When she reached Burk, she held the grip towards him.

  “Here. Kill him.”

  “Hey—. Watch—. Give me that thing. Are you out of your mind?” He took the gun from her.

  “Yes, I’m out of my mind. I want you to kill the slimy bastard for what he did to me. Now!”

  Burk pointed the revolver away from his body at the ground. He realized his wife was too disturbed to reason with.

  “Don’t be a fool, Toni. Get in the car.”

  She shook her head.

  “He’s not getting away. Not this time.”

  “And I’m not shooting him, so get ahold of yourself.” He reached for her. She tried to evade his grasp.

  “Let go!” she yelled.

  He gripped her tighter and pleaded, “Let’s talk, okay? Let’s just talk.”

  Toni Jo was breathing hard. She seemed to calm down.

  “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

  “Let me just ask him a few questions.” He looked at Harold Nevers. “Oka
y?” She nodded. “Harold, what are you doing here? How’d you get like that?” Burk pointed at the scars with the pistol.

  Nevers looked at his chest.

  “I erased them with a soldering iron.”

  Arkie’s head jerked and he whispered, “God.” Nevers smiled. “What you did to Toni was wrong. You know that.” Arkie’s words were part question, part accusation.

  “Yes. I’ve asked God’s forgiveness.”

  Toni Jo stepped forward. “He’s conning you, don’t you see that?”

  Burk held Toni Jo back with his arm and glared at her.

  “Let me handle this, all right?” He looked at Nevers. “That right, Harold? This a con job?”

  “No con job,” he said. “It’s the truth. Jesus is the Truth. He saved me from myself.”

  “Liar!” Toni Jo said. Burk held her back.

  “All right, Toni, just hold on. Let’s move away and talk about this awhile.”

  “He’ll run off,” she said. “He’s conning you just long enough to get a jump. You turn around, and he’ll be gone in a flash.”

  “All right,” Burk said. “Let me think a minute.”

  Lightning flashed feebly in the south.

  “We can tie him up while we talk. Okay? Will that suit you?”

  “No! He’ll run. Make him take his clothes off, then tie him to the car.”

  “Toni—.”

  “Make him!” Arkie glanced from Nevers to Toni Jo and back to Nevers.

  “Harold,” he said, half plea, half command.

  Nevers bent over and unlaced his shoes. He pulled one off. Balancing on one leg, he pulled the sock off and put it in the shoe, then stepped carefully into the cold mire. He took off the other shoe and sock, then unfastened his belt and trousers. Nevers looked at Burk and Toni Jo. He turned around and let the trousers fall to his ankles.