WITNESS TO A HANGING

     There have been times...many times...that I wished I may be present to view a person being hanged. Not for the pleasure of it, mind you. Just to witness it...see why many people in the Old West used to gather at the gallows with their children, order sassaparillas or bottles of beer and cheer as the condemned man, or men, did a "floorless jig".

     There were many times that I had seen an old Clint Eastwood film in which a man was lynched and left alone to strangle at the end of a rope. The biggest thrill that some friends of mine got while watching this film was observing the twitching of a man's legs as he dangled there, choking and struggling for breath. Another scene showed two boys, no older than we were at the time my friends and I were watching this film. One boy was only 15 and his brother was 18. They were going to be hanged for murder and cattle rustling. I read books about judicial hangings in the 19th century and found that it didn't matter how old you were...if you committed a capital offense, you paid for it with your life!!!

     One day, I came upon the hanged body of a friend of mine from school. Of course, he left me a note saying that he was going to hang himself...but he left it up to me to find out where he had done it. He also said that, in order not to bring dishonor to the school, I was to remove his school uniform and leave him hanging there in his underwear!!!

     Of course, though, dishonor did come to the good school...when the hanged boy's identity became known. For several weeks after his hanging, I dreamed of seeing some other boys from the school whom I despised hang at the end of a rope. Not in their school uniforms or underwear, mind you...but in their gym shorts!!! I thought of how beautiful they would look, dangling at the end of ropes, death throes rippling through their naked thighs, knees and calves. Of course, these would have been viewed for pleasure...because these boys were my enemies and it would have been glorious to see my enemies meet their deaths like this.

     But, my dreams not only included boys who were my enemies.

     In some of my dreams, I was a witness to my own hanging...while wearing my black gym uniform. In one of them, I see myself standing in a field, awaiting execution by hanging beside a helium-filled balloon. I am wearing my black gym shorts, black socks, black sneakers and a long-sleeved hooded and gloved sweat shirt. A man (whom I fancy as Mr. Michaels, my gym teacher) comes forward, pulls my hands behind my back and ties them together at my wrists. He kneels down and ties my feet together, all the time staring lovingly at the back of my legs...especially my knees...which he so loves. Then, he pulls down a noose and tightens it around my neck, placing the hangman's knot behind my back. Turning to some brawny upperclassmen who are holding the ropes to which the balloon is being held down, he gives the signal to release the balloon. The balloon rises and, as it does so, I begin to feel tension racking through my body. Then, all of a sudden, my body is being lifted off the ground and I am hanging there, twisting and turning, flopping about like a dead fish...my life being choked out of my body as urine and liquid feces pour down my naked legs to the ground as it gets farther and farther away. As the balloon flies away, I dream that my dead body will end up in some African veldt, where it would mercifully be devoured by wild animals before it rots!!!

Wow! Just look at John Schneider hanging and hawking in Eddie Macon's Run!

     There had been times that my father told me of dreams that he had in which we pool our money together to purchase a Hollywood prop...a hanging harness...like one that was used in the film Eddie Macon's Run. In this one scene, Eddie was taken into the house of some wealthy hicks, put on trial and hanged in their living room. My father said that the actor made facial contortions to make it appear that he was really being hanged. I asked my father if we could try it out and see if it works. But, who would be the one to be "hanged"?

     "Me, Dad", I yelled out. "Hang me!"

     Of course, the main reason why I wanted my father to put the harness on me and "hang" me was because of what I was wearing...the same type of clothing I wore in New York when my friends and I were playing "Good Guys/Bad Guys". At this time, I had already been taking some drama classes...so I knew how convincing I should look as I dangled at the end of a rope. My father took his SX-70 camera and took some photographs of me as I hanged from the harness, putting a look on my face that one would actually think that I was being hanged by my neck.

     I looked at the photographs that my father took later that night. I looked so convincing, I wanted to try it again. I went into the garage and put on the harness and put my head through the noose. But, stupid me! I didn't pay very close attention to how my father fastened the harness properly. When I kicked the chair out from under my feet, the noose tightened around my neck.

     I was actually being hanged to death!!!

     Luckily, my father heard the commotion. He ran into the garage to find me beginning my death throes. He rushed forward just in time to grab me about my knees and lifted the harness off the hook in the ceiling. When I had regained consciousness, my father told me that the noose around my neck was not fastened properly to the harness. The result: I would have really died by hanging!!!

     I didn't want that to happen. At least...not yet! I mean, if I do choose to commit suicide, it definitely will be by hanging...and definitely dressed in shorts and knee socks!