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Table of contents
GILL, B. Gold Medal Book Soft Cover. Book Condition: Very Good. Good Girl Art Painted Cover! Like Kerrigan, the stevedore, the old-young man with the strength of three and the secret dreams of a life away from the hell of Vernon Street. They fell in love and they would have been all right, except for Vernon Street.
It stood between them, this crooked length of scarred, cracked asphalt - an abyss that held them worlds apart. Mass Market Paperback. Bookseller Inventory Book Condition: Near Good. First Paperback Ed.
Precedes Lion by 4 years! Appears to be a factory cut! Crude looking, but rare book! News Stand Library Bookseller Inventory NL Lion Books LB Book Condition: Fair. Second Edition. I have a gun.
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And I have used it. It I have to, I will use it again. I will use it on them, on the whole gang of them, and I will use it on her, though I love her. They make me do it. They are hunting me, and they want to kill me. Here is the whole of explosive novel on which Columbia Pictures based the dynamic film starring Aldo Ray and Anne Bancroft.
Top 1" of Spine missing. Re-Glued; Water stained. Still OK as a Reading copy!. Book Condition: Near Very Good. Good Girl Art Photo Cover! First Edition By This Publisher. Book Condition: Fair to Good. Insides are still quite nice!
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Still great as a cheap Reading copy!. Detective Book Club. Three Complete stories in one book! Goldthwaite pages. Book Condition: Good. Still a nice Reading copy!. He had to save her.
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He had to say the right thing. A weird sound came from the crowd in the street. She was ready to leap! As head of the Missing Persons Bureau of a great city, Paul Ballard was in the worst trouble of his life. He had closed the file on Myra Nichol's lost husband. Nichols claimed that Ballard had buried the case. Now she threatened suicide. Ballard knew that if she jumped, his department would be rocked by scandal. But what he didn't know was that if he saved her, she would be marked for a different and more horrible death. Book Condition: Very Good to Fine. Fat, soiled Hagen rules this street of prostitutes, workers, dope-pushers - and lost souls.
Yet people love and live on Ruxton, as they do on any back street in your own home town. Ball of Fire". Now You Don't". On such occasions, the strictest economy would be required. Once in a while we would put some cornmeal into a bowl, sprinkle some salt in and upon it, pour in some hot water and stir it thoroughly. After that, we would place it on a "griddle," with live coals under it. When it browned on one side, we would turn it over and brown it on the other side.
Then we would divide it into four equal parts, of which each one was given a portion, to eat or let alone, as the humor moved us. Judge John R. Donald, the widower of the late daughter of the former Governor Richard Dobbs Speight, of whom I have spoken, had a mansion about half a mile distant from the humble abode of my mother. Here were servants galore, and food in abundance. Several of the servants were related, by blood, to my deceased Father, and they sympathized with us, in our forlorn condition.
One of the poor slave women, for whom father had done a kindness, could not endure the thought of my elder sister doing the family washing, and be it said to her everlasting honor, that she came to mother by night, and begged permission to do the washing, rather than that my sister should do it. Mother, in her stern, positive way, said, "No, Sarah has got to work for her living, and she may as well be learning now as later on. Amongst Judge Donald's maid servants, were two, one whom we denominated, "Little Auntie," and another known as Aunt Hannah.
Each was domiciled on the premises, in adjoining rooms of an out-house. Of course, we eagerly grasped at this opportunity of satisfying the cravings of hunger, and it became my duty to go to Judge Donald's, every night and fetch home, the bounty dispensed to us. This was, at times, a source of much assistance to us and we made the most of it.
Indeed, so jubilant was I over the trend of affairs, that, I was wont to exclaim, in superlative glee,--"That woman that you call Little A-u-n-t-i-e, has a p-l-e-n-t-i-e! In those days, I was little more than seven years of age, and, frequently, the streets through which I wended my way to Judge Donald's were as dark as Egypt. However, I quailed not, and when I could not see the route, I tried to feel it, as best I could.
Sometimes, Aunt Hannah would sigh, and say, "Ah air Johnnie, I haven't got nothin' fer yer ter night! We had our bright days though, for on Christmas, mother always secured a little turkey, and during the summer season, we more than once enjoyed a lusciops water-melon. As soon as I was strong enough to use a wood-saw, I was given charge of sawing and splitting the firewood. A cord of hickory, oak or ash wood would be thrown over our fence.
After that, the trouble began.
However, Page 29 as I look back to those days, and the benefit which I derived from my contact with those wood piles, in the way of developing muscles and general physique, I am persuaded that, the criminal branches of our courts would have less to do, had every boy a wood pile and "buck-saw" in his back yard, over which he could preside with honor and profit. This recalls the fact which I am very proud of , that, in the winter of , when I was thirteen years of age and weighed just sixty pounds, I raised the money to buy me a pair of skates, by sawing and splitting and piling up three cords of wood.
Two cords I sawed into three pieces, and one cord, I sawed into two pieces.
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It required much walking around the streets of Cleveland, in order to find the wood, and I regret to relate it, after buying the skates, I used them only a few times, before I was seized with pneumonia, and sold them for about one-half their purchase price. What limited skating I tried to do was without pleasure, for, I wore shoes, while the other boys wore boots. My shoes were too low for the proper strapping of the skates on, and my ankles would ever and anon turn over, and cause me to fall. Another task which I had imposed upon me, while I was yet a little boy, in Newbern, was that of turning the grind-stone, for Uncle Balaam Jones, a cooper, who would recompense me by supplying some portion of our firewood.
Every Saturday afternoon, I would go to Flanner's cooper shot , about half a mile distant from our home, to perform this function. I was too light and weak for the work, but mother permitted us to eat no "idle bread. At times, when Uncle Balaam would bear down with considerable weight, the grindstone would cease revolving. Then he would "let up" for a few moments and allow me to rest a little, before proceeding again, and, when, finally, the adz, the broad-axe, the drawing Page 30 knives, the chisels, etc.
The interlocutor said to him, "Brace up!
Part First
The grinding being completed, then came my recompense. Uncle Balaam would select some defective ash "heading," split them to convenient sizes and fill my deep tray which I had carried there for the purpose. After this, he would assist me in placing the burden on my head. I had no little four-wheeled wagon to draw it home in. Then I would start for home, half a mile distant.