After several futile efforts to secure work on the following day, I was advised by all institutions which stood supposedly to help the destitute in Houston to the "Star of Hope Mission." It was after ten o'clock when I arrived there and as I entered I noticed several exceedingly well-groomed, well-dressed and well-fed men who looked as though they were getting about six square meals a day. Innocent of who they were and why they were there, I stepped up to an attendant at the desk, saying, "Would you give a man who is broke a bed?" Absolutely and purposely ignoring me, the man, in a gloating voice and obtrusive manner, turned to one of these men in evidence, who proved to be one William Kessler, Chief of City Detectives, and said, "Here is a man who wants us to give him a free bed."
Immediately this officer, within "this temple of peace, love and hope," began one of those brutal, harsh inquisitions for which the police forces of our nation are well-known and which they seem to think is their prerogative. Such an illegal examination, brutally conducted, covers the helpless and innocent with the awful shadow of fear fathered by the suspicion of cruel abuse, and the victims of such gross assault, in their loneliness, beyond all help, are forced to appear guilty of something when they are not.
This "guardian of the peace" of Houston, in a most overbearing manner asked me:
"I do any kind of work I can get to do to make an honest living," I answered.
At this point of our conversation I turned my back to leave him, when he loudly called to a subordinate and said,
Instantly a rough hand was upon my shoulder. I demanded of the man, "Why do you arrest me? I have done no wrong." But my appeal for release was absolutely ignored.
I resolved not to reveal my identity to anyone, and was taken half a block down the street, where a patrol wagon was waiting, in which were seated seven other unfortunate, homeless men like myself. Remember, the patrol wagon was waiting for me a half block away from the "Star of Hope Mission"! Why? Because it was so much more respectable than to have it waiting for the victims of the Mission in front of its door.
After I had been forced into the wagon, while it passed the bright street lamps I studied the faces of my unlucky companions in crime. All these young fellows were between the ages of eighteen and thirty-three and were skilled workers. As I looked upon them I immediately recognized one of them as a young fellow to whom I had spoken that afternoon while looking for work. He, also, was in the same condition that I was in, stranded and homeless. He told me the police, that very day, ordered him out of town but because of his ill health he was unable to walk. He also said that he was afraid to risk going into the railroad yards to get a freight, as the police were liable to arrest him, so as the night was very cold, fearing with his poor health that it might be fatal if he should sleep outdoors, he finally decided to go to the "Star of Hope Mission," where, as a sick man, instead of being given relief and shelter, he was thrown into prison.