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 hadmore 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.
“I work all day washin’ dishes, and spend me evenin’s with the Salvation Army preachin’ on the street,” Gardner said.
“Happy as a clam, I am!” he said when Barney asked if that satisfied him. “The Good Lord is with me, I’m able to move about, and I get to spread the gospel every day.” Then he put his hand on Barney’s shoulder. “And you, old chap? How goes it with you?”
“Good.” Barney nodded. “I’m in training now. Looks like I’ll get my first fight in a couple of weeks.”
Gardner eyed him doubtfully. “A hard life, fightin’. It done me in, just about.”
“It’s all I know, Awful.”
“Aw, laddie, we will see. If God can get you out of Sing Sing, He can do anything—wonderful things with you!”
Barney shifted around and Gardner saw his visitor’s discomfort at any mention of God. “Well, now,” Awful said wisely, “I’ll come and watch you train, and you can come and drink me tea.”
“I’d like that, Awful.” He hesitated, then smiled. “I never did tell you what a big help you were to me in prison.”
“Ah!” Gardner scoffed, waving his hand. “Not a bit of it!”
“Yes, you were.” Barney thought for a moment. “I still have bad dreams about that hell hole. But nearly always when it starts closing in on me, I remember that you were always there. I could always count on you—calling me ‘dear boy’ and promising me things would be all right. It—it meant a lot to me, Awful. It really did!”
On that note, Barney left, and true to his word, Gardner was at the gym the next day. Barney, too, kept his promise and had tea and cake in Awful’s room.
Three weeks later, on October 14, Barney’s first fight was scheduled. But the afternoon before he fought, he was walking along Water Street, when a woman stepped out of a bar. At first he paid no attention. Then she turned.
It was Katie Sullivan! She did not see Barney, and he darted back to watch her. She and the man with her staggered down the street. She still looked as petite as she had the
“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 hadmore 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.
“I work all day washin’ dishes, and spend me evenin’s with the Salvation Army preachin’ on the street,” Gardner said.
“Happy as a clam, I am!” he said when Barney asked if that satisfied him. “The Good Lord is with me, I’m able to move about, and I get to spread the gospel every day.” Then he put his hand on Barney’s shoulder. “And you, old chap? How goes it with you?”
“Good.” Barney nodded. “I’m in training now. Looks like I’ll get my first fight in a couple of weeks.”
Gardner eyed him doubtfully. “A hard life, fightin’. It done me in, just about.”
“It’s all I know, Awful.”
“Aw, laddie, we will see. If God can get you out of Sing Sing, He can do anything—wonderful things with you!”
Barney shifted around and Gardner saw his visitor’s discomfort at any mention of God. “Well, now,” Awful said wisely, “I’ll come and watch you train, and you can come and drink me tea.”
“I’d like that, Awful.” He hesitated, then smiled. “I never did tell you what a big help you were to me in prison.”
“Ah!” Gardner scoffed, waving his hand. “Not a bit of it!”
“Yes, you were.” Barney thought for a moment. “I still have bad dreams about that hell hole. But nearly always when it starts closing in on me, I remember that you were always there. I could always count on you—calling me ‘dear boy’ and promising me things would be all right. It—it meant a lot to me, Awful. It really did!”
On that note, Barney left, and true to his word, Gardner was at the gym the next day. Barney, too, kept his promise and had tea and cake in Awful’s room.
Three weeks later, on October 14, Barney’s first fight was scheduled. But the afternoon before he fought, he was walking along Water Street, when a woman stepped out of a bar. At first he paid no attention. Then she turned.
It was Katie Sullivan! She did not see Barney, and he darted back to watch her. She and the man with her staggered down the street. She still looked as petite as she had the
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