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home > on-air > feature documentaries > From the Introduction to The Autobiography of Billy McCune
I recorded Billy's song and a friendship developed, first through my visits, then through letters. For every card or note I sent him, he sent me back a color drawing or letter that struck me like a flame from hell... His is the voice of the voiceless and the dead. His is the sadness of ten thousand nights of darkness shared by two hundred thousand men. He is the unknown misery inside an isolation cell, into which sane a man dare not look, lest he be blinded by tears, or driven off by the smell. He is you and I, stripped naked and locked in a cell from which the only light we see tells us there's no way out but by suffering and death. And if this be a man more pleasant not to mention—a man easier perhaps with what thoughts we might have to not read—then I say this: this time of ours from which we get what comfort is in our lives has caused, has in fact insisted on such suffering, such death and such madness. We ought to be familiar with Billy McCune if for no reason than to ease the shock when we wake up and find our father, our son or ourselves, hanging from an attic rafter. —Danny Lyon |
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