The sound that attracted my attention was a low, grinding rasping that seemed to come from the floor of the cell above, which was the roof of my cell. One person above walked back and forth with his shoes on, making considerable noise. Something very unusual. The rasping became more distinct, and after an hour’s thought I concluded that somebody up above was boring a hole through the thin steel floor and that the walking was to cover the noise of drilling and to keep watch for the guard. Before nine o’clock there was an inch hole in the floor, and strips of tender meat, long pieces of bread, toasted to hold them together, cigarettes, and matches were being lowered into my cell. After them came a long, thin piece of rubber hose, from which I sucked about a quart of strong coffee.

I spent about three weeks in the cooler and never missed my evening meal. My cellmates bribed the night guard to give me a blanket at night, which he took away from me before he went off watch in the morning, to protect himself. All in all, I didn’t fare so badly and was getting pretty well settled down to life in the dark cell when they took me out one evening and sent me back to my cell with instructions to be ready in the morning to go to court. I found my clothes in good shape and a clean shirt had been procured for me by my cellmates.

They seemed to think they owed me an apology for not being able to get food into the dark cell until the second night, explaining in great detail how they had to get two gay cats moved out of the cell above me and have two members of the Johnson family put in it, who would attend to the matter. I was instructed by them to ask for an immediate trial; the captain had declared that he would keep me in the cooler till I either got acquitted or went to work pumping.