Read Online The Executioner's Song by Norman Mailer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Norman Mailer
Tags: Pulitzer
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to think getting into the damnedest situations and finding a way out of them was common sense.
The Smokey report said the weather was less bad on the other side of the mountain, but Brenda didn’t know whether to try it. Over the CB, an eighteen-wheeler coming up behind her said the road ahead was treacherous. Then the fellow asked what kind of unit she was driving. After Brenda described Johnny’s pickup, the trucker said, “I got you. You’re right ahead of me.” Then he told her, “I have a buddy behind. We’ll escort you.”
“Well,” said Brenda, “I don’t get off till Orem.”
“We’ll stay with you.”
So Brenda drove down the Interstate in line between two large semis. She stayed on the taillights of the fellow up ahead and the guy behind kept close. They moved right along with her.
The lead truck stayed in the lane to the left so she wouldn’t slide off toward the island. The other was to her right and just behind. If her-back end started to veer out to the shoulder, he could tap the back bumper near her rear right wheel. That would stop the slide. Truckers knew how to do it. It was crucial assistance. Due to the drainage problem, the shoulder on this stretch of the Interstate chopped off sharply into a drainage canal and since it was a spring blizzard, there weren’t old snowbanks to protect you. Nothing to the right, in fact, but gravel and the drop-off. So the fellow behind kept talking her in. “Don’t worry,” he kept saying, “you aren’t going over.”
This all impressed Gary. He said, “You’ve got protection.” Then he gave a wide smile and said, “But don’t you think you need it against me?”
“Why,” Brenda said, “what a rotten thing to say. Would you hurt
me?”
“That,” said Gary, now offended, “was a dumb thing to say.” “No dumber than what you just said.”
Toni said, “Children, children, don’t quarrel.”
6
52 THE EXECUTIONER’S SONGp>
SO they drove along and got home and Gary went to bed at Brenda and Johnny’s house that night.
Monday morning, in the wet and slush, Gary went to seeMont Court. He told his parole officer the following story:
He had gone to a party and become somewhat intoxicated. Then he decided to go to Salt Lake to solicit a prostitute. En route, he thumbed a ride with a man who told him that he knew some girls in Twin Falls, Idaho, who would shack up with them. By the time they reached Twin Fails, however, the fellow that made this promise just dropped him off.
He then made telephone calls to Utah and was instructed by his cousin to thumb a ride back. Was able to secure such a ride with a, man he met at a bar. En route, the man began to have convulsions and finally passed out. So Gary was obliged to get behind the wheel of the car and try to locate a hospital. At this point he was arrested for driving without a license and had Mr. Court contacted. He, Gary Gil more, was now reporting in as instructed.
Mont Court didn’t feel too happy with the story. Gilmore was sit ting in his office, supernice and very polite. But he wasn’t explaining an awful lot. Just answering questions. It didn’t give a good feeling. All the same, there were a lot of cases where you just had to keep liv ing with them.
Court had about eighty people on parole or probation, and he got to see thirty or forty a week, each for five to fifteen minutes. It meant you had to take chances. He had taken one yesterday by gambling that Gilmore would come back on his own from Idaho.
On the other hand, if he had been kept in jail in Idaho, Court would have had to refer him to the Oregon authorities, which is where his parole originated. It would have been difficult in the ex treme to find any members of the Oregon Parole Commission on Sunday afternoon. In fact, it might even take a few days before they
THE FIRST MONTH 53p>
could meet to decide on Gilmore’s violation. Gary would be sitting in a Twin Falls jail
The Smokey report said the weather was less bad on the other side of the mountain, but Brenda didn’t know whether to try it. Over the CB, an eighteen-wheeler coming up behind her said the road ahead was treacherous. Then the fellow asked what kind of unit she was driving. After Brenda described Johnny’s pickup, the trucker said, “I got you. You’re right ahead of me.” Then he told her, “I have a buddy behind. We’ll escort you.”
“Well,” said Brenda, “I don’t get off till Orem.”
“We’ll stay with you.”
So Brenda drove down the Interstate in line between two large semis. She stayed on the taillights of the fellow up ahead and the guy behind kept close. They moved right along with her.
The lead truck stayed in the lane to the left so she wouldn’t slide off toward the island. The other was to her right and just behind. If her-back end started to veer out to the shoulder, he could tap the back bumper near her rear right wheel. That would stop the slide. Truckers knew how to do it. It was crucial assistance. Due to the drainage problem, the shoulder on this stretch of the Interstate chopped off sharply into a drainage canal and since it was a spring blizzard, there weren’t old snowbanks to protect you. Nothing to the right, in fact, but gravel and the drop-off. So the fellow behind kept talking her in. “Don’t worry,” he kept saying, “you aren’t going over.”
This all impressed Gary. He said, “You’ve got protection.” Then he gave a wide smile and said, “But don’t you think you need it against me?”
“Why,” Brenda said, “what a rotten thing to say. Would you hurt
me?”
“That,” said Gary, now offended, “was a dumb thing to say.” “No dumber than what you just said.”
Toni said, “Children, children, don’t quarrel.”
6
52 THE EXECUTIONER’S SONGp>
SO they drove along and got home and Gary went to bed at Brenda and Johnny’s house that night.
Monday morning, in the wet and slush, Gary went to seeMont Court. He told his parole officer the following story:
He had gone to a party and become somewhat intoxicated. Then he decided to go to Salt Lake to solicit a prostitute. En route, he thumbed a ride with a man who told him that he knew some girls in Twin Falls, Idaho, who would shack up with them. By the time they reached Twin Fails, however, the fellow that made this promise just dropped him off.
He then made telephone calls to Utah and was instructed by his cousin to thumb a ride back. Was able to secure such a ride with a, man he met at a bar. En route, the man began to have convulsions and finally passed out. So Gary was obliged to get behind the wheel of the car and try to locate a hospital. At this point he was arrested for driving without a license and had Mr. Court contacted. He, Gary Gil more, was now reporting in as instructed.
Mont Court didn’t feel too happy with the story. Gilmore was sit ting in his office, supernice and very polite. But he wasn’t explaining an awful lot. Just answering questions. It didn’t give a good feeling. All the same, there were a lot of cases where you just had to keep liv ing with them.
Court had about eighty people on parole or probation, and he got to see thirty or forty a week, each for five to fifteen minutes. It meant you had to take chances. He had taken one yesterday by gambling that Gilmore would come back on his own from Idaho.
On the other hand, if he had been kept in jail in Idaho, Court would have had to refer him to the Oregon authorities, which is where his parole originated. It would have been difficult in the ex treme to find any members of the Oregon Parole Commission on Sunday afternoon. In fact, it might even take a few days before they
THE FIRST MONTH 53p>
could meet to decide on Gilmore’s violation. Gary would be sitting in a Twin Falls jail
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