San Antonio Daily Light

MAINE'S CHAMPION SHORT TERM JAILBIRD.

John Corson of Bangor, In a "Prohibition State,"

Has Been Regularly Sent up for Drunkenness for Thirty Years-His Matrimonial Experiment.

John Corson, of Bangor, claims to be the champion short-term jailbird in the country, and no one has been found in these parts who disputes the title.

Corson is now about fifty-two years old and, considering the life he leads, is in good health. He was in the United States navy during the rebellion, and draws a pension.

When the pension comes the turnkey of the jail keeps it until Corson's time is up. Then Corson has a spree and comes back to jail.

In thirty years Corson has spent twenty-seven years and six months in Bangor county jail, excepting three years in State prison, where he was sent for burglary. This burglary was only a drunken mistake. While staggering home one night he got into the wrong house, but he went down for burglary. All his other sentences have been of thirty, sixty and ninety days.

Corson has become what criminals call "jail-queered"-he has come to prefer that life, being lost when he gets into the world, where people have to pay for board and lodging. He is up all the little tricks of Bangor Jail. He has always the same cell, and feels at home and comfortable. He works about the jail scrubbing, painting and doing chores, and makes it a point to keep on good terms with the cook.

John Corson is happier in jail than many a man in freedom. He has no care for tomorrow, no coal to buy, no board to pay. The approach of winter has no terrors, for the jail walls are thick and the place is heated by steam. Stock and bonds may rise and fall, wars be fought, disasters sweep the earth-it is all the same to Corson.

On Sundays kind old ladies sing hymns for the prisoners and distribute tracts (which are good for pipe lights) and illustrated papers (which are good to read). With his pension money he can buy tobacco while in jail and liquor while out.

Two or three picturesque incidents have lent color to Corson's existence.

Once he took it into his head to follow the advice of a wicked reporter and get married.

A halfwitted girl of eighteen years had been deserted by the man she had married, and to get rid of her baby drowned it. For this she was sent to jail for a year, and there Corson met her.

About this time the report was circulated that Corson was to receive $3,000 in back pension money, and great excitement prevailed at the prospect of a prolonged spree. At this juncture along came the wicked reporter and said to Corson:

"Now, John, why don't you get married? There's Mary Bell-she'd make a good wife, and you've got plenty of money."

A rapid courtship in the jail kitchen was followed, as the terms of both were to expire by a ceremony in the Sheriff's office. The back pay windfall had dwindled to $130 prize money, but John had a quarter's pension besides that, and started on a wedding trip to Oldtown, Mary's native town.

It was the shortest honeymoon trip on record. Joy overcame John and he went to the gay quarter of Bangor known as "The Devil's Half Acre."

Then followed a round of local roadhouses, winding up with a call at a lively resort in Oldtown, where love's young dream was shattered by a free fight, in which the bride's eyes were discolored and the bridegroom touched for all of his money. Since then Mary and John have been two.

Last week John made a queer break.

While serving a term in jail for drunkenness he stole six silver spoons from the Sheriff's table for which, when his time expired, he was sent back for four months.-New York World.