The rest of the prison retained its dead monochrome. By then, Ron stirred with boredom. He was settled but had nothing to do. His energetic nature had no outlet. He wasn’t interested in gambling or narcotics, except where they led to money, though he saw how these icons were the yeast that fluffed Earl’s mind. Moreover, Ron saw that it was time to build the constructive record to influence the judge. “Yeah, chump, do something for yourself,” Earl said. “I think I’ll go to night school … take a course in real estate.” That is what he did; also a class in Spanish. Three evenings a week he walked through twilight, in the lines of men, mostly black, to the education building. At the recess he often visited Jan the Actress in the queen’s glass-enclosed office. There he met Mr. Harrell, the chubby, soft-physiqued teacher who ran the “literacy training” program for illiterates. Clark Harrell also sponsored a group called Squires that he hoped would help keep delinquents from coming to prison by showing them their future.
