Environmental Trap

By Al Wynn

This book Environmental Trap is a testimony of my experiences that I lived while growing up in the streets, on the south side of Chicago. I witnessed first-hand, through sight and interaction with people; whose lives became entangled in different types of lifestyles, as a means of survival.

I learned ways of making a living, by

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Regency Publishers, US
• Release date: Mar 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781957724874

Al Wynn

It was hard raising myself at the age of seventeen years old in the jungle streets of Chicago, fighting the icy cold winter and sleeping in an abandoned car with a strange abandoned dog. I sat there sometimes in my hotel room, the car, wondering, "What did life have in store for me?" I then asked myself, "What is life?" I reasoned with myself. "Life is a school of good and bad breaks, where lessons hard learned reaches the human soul and leaves an imprint, and that imprint is an experience." Through life I have rubbed shoulders with judges, congressmen, aldermen, and, the topnotch mafia of Chicago. I did business with and knew most of the gang lords in the late 60's. I have lived through several narrow escapes of my life.

Book preview

Preface

This book (Environmental Trap) is a continuation of my book (Trials and Tribulations of Life) the story of my life.

Environmental Trap will expose the pit falls that lay hidden from the unwise and it will reveal the cunning and vicious games that people are playing today.

Environmental Trap is a book about a young man, who ran away from home and searched his way through the streets and learned how to stay alive in them.

Through the vicious cycle of the game played in the streets and Lessons Hard Learned, the young man (Al Wynn) observed that every tub must sit on it’s own bottom and every tongue must confess for his own soul.

What goes up, will surely come down. A lie will fade away, where as the truth will stand forever.

In lessons hard learned you will find that there is a God and that he speaks to you and guides you through you instincts and the little voice you hear in your subconscious mind. He will lead you in the right direction, if you believe in him. To those who have an ear to hear;

Let him Listen

Prologue

What the boys and girls should understand and be taught from birth and reminded of while going into adulthood is to love your race as well as yourself. As Jesus said, Love your Neighbors as yourself. One might have another race living next door to him or her, but he or she is not necessarily your neighbor. Only the black man is your neighbor, so love him as much as you do yourself and only then will we understand the true essence of unity, and as the bible says; Love thou one another.

The white man and other races do not feel the same pain as the black man has felt, and is still feeling. Only another black man can understand that pain. For the whole black race feels that the world has abandoned them and have forgotten the black man’s greatness, the black man is your race and your only neighbor, Love your race as you love yourself, I’m not trying to say to hate other races, I’m just stressing to hold on to your own and to everyone else only according to their merits.

Your love and faith in one black person uplifts the whole race. To our Grand and Great grand daughters, the angels of our lives. I hope that you will always learn how to be a lady at all times. For out of you a nation is born, and raised and you at all times should be aware of this and prepare your selves to be the teachers that you will become. Do not allow any man to tramp you out. You should at all times be his help mate and not his fool. I hope that you will rely on God to teach you the rest, and always, always listen to that little voice, (or your instincts), that will bring you the answers that you look for and if you don’t get it right away, wait until you do!! For it is written In the book seek and you shall find, knock and the door shall be opened unto you, ask and you shall receive. When you have witnessed and experienced for yourself that these words are true, then you will have experienced lessons hard learned. Remember these words, today is May 14, 2007, and I am Seventy-Three years old, still working, walking, singing, and learning. It is written that those who have an ear to hear let him listen, and I am still listening and seeking for truth. For the bible says seek for knowledge like it is silver and fine gold. Knowledge is freedom. Knowledge is power, long life; knowledge is love for one another. You see when you have love for one another, there’s no fight, only love, understanding and peace follows.

Chapter 1

For several days now, I had searched for a job on the south side, west side and near north side. There wasn’t any that interested me. Mostly restaurant jobs were available, bus boys, mop boys and messengers for inexperienced blacks. I didn’t know what job I was looking for, but it wasn’t those.

This particular day, I was just leaving the Art Theater on 63rd street, when someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned to face Ray Leonard, the cab driver. I had met him at the Douglas Lounge a couple of times. Say Al, don’t you have a place or are you still staying with your mother? he asked, not giving me a chance to answer.

I said, no I’m not staying with my mother anymore, I’ve got my own place, on 64th and Maryland.

He said, say man let me buy you a drink, I’ve got ten dollars and I need to take this girl some where, and I don’t have a spot.

How long do you need with her man? I asked.

About a half an hour or fifteen or twenty minutes, he said, damn near begging.

I don’t want to stick you up, but I can use that ten.

He said, she’s right over here in my cab, When I got there she was a nice looking girl smiling at me through the front window of the cab. I climbed in the back seat. When I got in the back seat I recognized her from the neighborhood my mother lived in. I could see that she recognized me too, but I didn’t say anything. I told Ray to go to 64th and Maryland. She seemed a little embarrassed looking at me, as we walked up the steps to my apartment. I let them into the room, showed Ray where the bathroom was, and told him there were towels in the drawer on the right hand side of the dresser. Told him to slam the door shut when he was ready to leave. I would be on the front steps waiting for him. I sat there wondering how old she was. She seemed to be from age seventeen to my age twenty one, but not older than my age. She was very nice looking and had a nice shape. Not much time had passed when Ray was back down the steps, thanking me and shaking my hand for those moments alone with her. She kind of stood behind him peeping around at me, with flirty eyes.

Nella kept me neatly dressed in denims and other clothes, as I would go out each day seeking a job. Three months had gone by from the time that I saw Ray and Joyce. I was standing in line at the grocery store, when someone punched me with a finger in my back. A heavy set lady with a lot of groceries stood in front of me at the counter, asking the cashier what was the price on a large peanut butter. I turned to the finger that was punching me in my back. I turned around and looked down into Joyce’s face. She had a big beautiful smile on her face, as she whispered hi there. I damn near grabbed her and kissed her, I was so happy to see her. How are you doing, I asked?

She said, fine.

I said, Is Ray your boyfriend?

He was trying to be, but I don’t see him anymore. We had made it through the line and was on the outside of the store now, I said, I’m not trying to be funny, but Ray is about thirty five years old? How old are you?

I’m old enough, she said and looked at me and smiled and started to walk away. Wait just a minute now, I said kind of grabbing her by the arm. You said, you didn’t see Ray anymore. When are you going to see me?

She said, Don’t you have a girlfriend? I lied through my teeth. I said, I did but she moved back to St. Louis.

She said, You asked me my age, now let me ask you. How old are you?

Nineteen, I said, lying again. I said, what are you doing tomorrow? Tomorrow is Wednesday, she said. "I have to go to the North side with my mother to take care of some business, but I’ll be free about

1:00 P.M. Thursday".

I said, where will you meet me?

She said, I remember where you stay, I’ll be there at 1:00 P.M.

The next day I spent half of the day looking for a job. From 2:00 in the afternoon until 6:00, I was at the Art Theater enjoying the cowboy picture with Bill Elliot and Tarzan played by Johnny Weismuller. I stopped at Ann Hughes as I sipped the gin fizz, I thought about Joyce. How pretty she was. Then I thought about Nella, how much she was in love with me. I didn’t feel right about Joyce coming to my house the next day, if I had stopped her from coming, she would have known that I had lied to her about the other woman. What the hell, life was about taking chances. After the date tomorrow I could always tell Joyce that I had moved. I was in love with Nella too, and I knew it. Waddell and Bob said, "Every man has a dog in him, maybe it was the dog in me that was coming out, cause I love Nella, but I desire Joyce, and was too weak to resist the opportunity to be with her. Deep down, I could hear the little voice in me telling me that it was wrong for me to invite that girl to another ladies home. The voice said, not only is it dangerous for you, its dangerous for the girl too. What about Nella, if she finds out the girl was in her house it will destroy the trust and my whole life with her. I ignored the voice and ordered another drink.

Mr. Buddies words came back to me. For every wrong doing Al, there are consequences and this is when you separate the good from the evil and your every thought should be with doing right, and to do unto others the way you would have others to do unto to you. You should think about the consequences that lay behind the wrong act. When you choose to do the wrong thing, then you have chosen to accept the consequences that come from your actions.

I was sitting on the porch steps at about a quarter to 1:00, when I saw Joyce coming from a distance. My heart pounded with anticipation. She smiled at me as she approached the gate. I stood and said, I see you didn’t forget and she smiled back and said, I never do forget anything I promise. Soon as we were in the room and the door closed. She said, I can’t stay long because my mother wants me to stop at the store and bring her something back. We were in the bed fore playing, hugging and kissing, etc. About ten or fifteen minutes had passed before I penetrated her. I was just getting in the groove, when I heard the key turn in the door. The door came open, but the night latch caught it. This time my heart really switched places in my chest. I knew it was Nella. She said, Al open this damn door!

Joyce panicked, who is that Al, who is that! I said, be quiet, be quiet, that’s when Nella said, who in the hell do you have in there! Open this damn door!! The door was ajar, but she kept shaking on the knob. Joyce was scrambling putting on her dress and then looking for her shoes. I was putting on my pants, my shoes then my shirt. Joyce had started to crying and Nella was steady cussing and hollering, who you got in there! My heart was pounding, this whole scene didn’t seem real. Too many things were happening, Joyce crying, Nella hollering and I wanted to jump out of the window. I opened the door and kind of blocked Nella from Joyce, who was kind of crying and standing behind me. Who is this little bitch you’ve got in here, Nella said. Trying to look over me at Joyce. Her hands came down hard in my chest, I’ll kill this bitch and you too.

I said, Nella I can explain as her hand went back up to hit me again, this time I caught them in the air and pinned her against the door frame. As I pushed Nella against the door, Joyce ran around me and down the steps.

You better run bitch cause I’m going to kill your ass. Nella said, as she broke a loose from me running after Joyce. Joyce steady screaming and hollering, as she went through the vestibule door, down the steps, through the gate. As fate would have it, she ran right into her aunt with an arm full of freshly cleaned clothes, that she had gotten out of the Better Cleaners, that Nella worked in on 64th Street. Nella was at the front porch now. You better not let me catch you, you hussy, Nella said, as she reached the porch. I was right behind Nella. She was breaking down the stairs for the girl, when I grabbed her by the waist almost picking her up in mid air.

Hi Nella, the auntie said. What’s wrong, what’s happening here? This is my niece.

Your damn niece was in the bed with my husband. Nella replied.

Is that your husband holding you?

Yes, this is my husband. What the hell has that got to do with it, Nella asked her?

What I’m asking you Nella is how old is your husband? Cause this girl is only sixteen! Take these clothes girl and bring your ass on, cause your momma is going to deal with you.

Nella was still trying to break loose from my grip, as they walked down the street. Nella turned to me after I had let her go. Just give me my god damn key, you ain’t got nothing to say to me,

As she ran back up the stairs all the neighbors next door and in the building were looking on. I went upstairs and put my shirt in my pants, got a jacket, and my hat. I turned around and looked at Nella. She was staring at the wall with tears in her eyes. I knew that I had fucked up and hurt her, I wanted to kick my own ass. I’ll be at Ann Hughes if you want to speak to me, and I left. I felt like I had a chill, but it wasn’t from the weather. It was like when I had that feeling from my stomach with the rabbit in it. I felt nervous all over, but the only good part about this feeling was that I could name it. It was fear. When I got my first drink, I damn near shook the ice out of the glass. I was so nervous and I was a damn fool too. I thought. That little voice that had always been with me from a kid had warned me several times, I ignored it and now I was between the devil and the deep blue sea. I downed the drink and ordered another one, went over to the juke box. I played the record three times, I apologize by Billy Eckstein. The record was saying:

If I made you cry, when I said goodbye I’m sorry From the bottom of my heart dear I apologize If I caused you pain I know that I’m to blame must have been insane forgive me From the bottom of my heart dear I apologize

Give me back romance give me one more chance For give me From the bottom of my heart dear I apologize

And the record kept going on and on. I had drank four drinks and was on my fifth one, when I saw the policeman come through the door (Joyce’s mother was pressing charges). I had beckoned the barmaid over, give me my bill and give me one more for that steel bench.

Chapter 2

It was about seven thirty in the evening in jail, I could hear the turn key as he walked down the hall, keys jingling. He called my name Al Wynn, you have a visitor. It was my mother and Nella.

Nella came in crying and looking at me. How could you do this to me? I love you so much.

How could you have that little bitch up in my room? My mother put her arms around her and said, don’t cry Nella. We don’t want to give these police more than what they have". My mother looked at me in disgust.

I said, Momma I didn’t know her age, looking away from her and letting my eyes drop to the floor in shame. I really didn’t know her age. I would do anything to undo what I had done, I really didn’t mean to hurt you Nella. Looking at her with her head leaning on my mothers shoulder. We must have visited for at least twenty minutes before, I heard from Nella, what I wanted to hear, that she would stick by me, that she forgives me and would help my mother get me a lawyer and try to get me out on bail. The next day my mother took off from work and got Mr. Boyd the real estate lawyer, that she hired when my father fell through the elevator shaft. After the trial I learned three(3) lessons:

—Never hire a Real Estate lawyer for a criminal case

(I loved my mother from the bottom of my heart, but as country and as square as she was)

—Never let anyone of her character sign your fate

(After all the arguments that occurred the judge said, one to two years in Statesville Penitentiary, the third lesson that I learned is if you are black the police keep a record on you that hurts you with every step you take,

And it is never removed from your record Even if you are innocent of the charge.

I sat there carefully in court listening to the prosecutor condemn me and bury me with the records that they had. The judge asked the prosecutor, does the boy have any priors?

The prosecutor said, Yes your honor He was accused of attempted rape in grammar school.

Then at the age of eighteen, he was charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor.

How did he contribute, the judge asked. Well he had an apartment at 2901 S. Prairie that was adjoined with his mother’s. He let one his brother’s friends, who was sixteen years old spend the night in his apartment, while the young sixteen year old, let his girl friend, who was fifteen spend the night. Nothing occurred, but Al was charged with contributing. The next morning Al and his girlfriend who was age eighteen took her home. The girl’s mother filed charges".

That was the longest day of my life waiting on the bus to come and pick me up and take me to Statesville. It seemed liked I was leaving the world behind me as the Illinois State correctional bus drove the country roads to Joliet. The first stop for all prisoners leaving the county jail was the diagnostic center, where they check for diseases, lice, they give you shots and make sure that you’re healthy. They tag you and give you a number. I was there three days singing the blues and crying to myself. Damn, somebody else is making love to my woman, I thought. I remember all her sexy ways, the hairs on the legs, the hair on the arms. I completely undressed Nella in my mind every day. I must be a damn fool if I thought that she could wait on me for two years and I couldn’t wait for two months and fucked up, and brought a sixteen year old girl in her bedroom.

What made me think that she would play superwoman for me and wait two years. It was the fourth day in that diagnostic center when I tore myself out to play football with the rest of the inmates that wanted to play football, some were playing handball, some were playing football and some were just walking around the yard. This particular day. I played quarter back.

We were in a huddle. We were about forty feet from the goal line. I told the left end to go out about five feet, then cut straight across the center for a short pass. I told the right end to go for the long pass. The ball was hiked, the ball was now in my hand. The men were rushing me from the other side. I faked a pass. The men that were coming up to me jumped to block the pass, but I held the ball close to my side and turned in a stoop to the right ran about two feet back and turned again to face on coming men on the field. I saw the left being blocked by the opposite team. Then I saw the right end near the goal. I drew back and let the ball go, as the ball sailed through the air, it landed on target. The right end snatched the ball. Touch Down!

Not to long after everyone had praised me for the long pass. The bell rang for us to return to our cells. We had fifteen minutes to wash up and take a count. The guard had to come around to count everyone in each individual cell. After the count the bell rang for chow. It was four of us in one cell. I hadn’t really gotten to know any individual’s name in the cell but for the last three or four days in the cell. I had did most of the talking. The other guys were writing, reading magazines or listening to their head phones. There were four bunk beds in the rooms stacked two a piece, one on top of the other. Me and another guy about my age named Billy Joe, laid on the top bunks. Everybody had on their head phones. For the first time I heard the record by Sam Cook You send me. Tears rolled in my eyes as I thought about what I had done to Nella, and the record was saying:

Darling you send me, You know that you send me, darling you send me Honest you do, Honest you do, Honest you do, ooh you thrill me,

you know that you

Do, Honest you do, Honest you do, At first I thought it was infatuation but oooh it lasted so long Now I find myself wanting to marry you and take you home oooh oooh, I know, I know, whenever you kiss me,

And the record went on, after a while the mailman came around. That time of day about six o’clock in the afternoon is the saddest and the loneliest part of the day especially if you don’t received any mail from home. This particular day everyone in my cell got mail but me. Billy Joe had gotten his mail and climbed back up to the top bunk. About two or three minutes had passed as he laid on his bunk reading his mail. Then he screamed out in a loud voice shocking everyone in the cell. That bitch! That dirty black bitch! How could she do me like this! He went to crying and shaking at the same time. Five years, he shouted. They gave me five mother fucking long years, and this black bitch done did me like this! He slid off his bunk, to the floor. That dirty black bitch! I’ll kill her, he said. My eyes were big and the shock from his hollering had shook me up. I wanted to call the turn key, cause I didn’t know what was happening with him. Quiet yourself down young blood. One of the guys on the bottom bunk under me, that was sitting up looking at Billy Joe said. The other guy raised from his bunk and said, yeah, you’ll be done gave yourself a heart attack. What’s wrong?

This dirty stinking bitch, telling me that she can’t wait five years and I robbed a fucking store to pay her damn rent! Fucking around with that tramp they gave me five long goddamn years!

The fellow that was under my bunk named Roy, said, well young blood don’t seem like you called her a tramp before you robbed the store. If you had figured out that she was a tramp, before you robbed the store you wouldn’t be in here for robbery. Anyway, you only have to do three years, nine months on a five year bit. If you’re lucky enough to get probation you will only have to do a year, if you behave yourself and stop that hollering, and maybe in a years time you’ will have figured out that God did you a favor. Not only will you have experienced what five years feels like, but you’ll have enough time to know not to rob a grocery store or anything else, that doesn’t belong to you. You’re speeding out here young blood.

You said, you were twenty-two years old when you first came in here. Don’t let your temper be the cause of you doing twenty more years in here. People come in with five years and wind up doing sixty years on account of their temper and emotions. If I were you young blood, I’d try to get in that B house and go back to school to advance your education and learn something besides pulling that gun. I am forty-five years old. I’ve been in this joint twice.

Now I am a three time loser doing ninety years for murder. I will never see daylight, again young blood. I have a building, I have a family and I have children your age and if I had five years I would stand on my head and thank god for it.

Yes, young blood the guy under Billy Joe was sitting and said, I hear you crying about the five years. I got fifteen to thirty, so you see we don’t want to keep hearing your crying about five years. I kind of crawled back up on my bunk and lay facing the wall. I blocked out all that advice that they were giving Billy Joe. Damn, Roy said, he was forty-five and now got ninety years. Damn, he’ll be in jail in heaven, I thought or hell. That was some dumb junk that Billy Joe did. He should’ve learned how to snatch a pocket book like me. I had better sense than that when I was seventeen, than to pull a gun. I’m not going to ever open my mouth again and tell anyone, I got one to two years, man I should thank God myself for the short time I have. I turned back to face them and Roy went on talking. Don’t come in here like you want to beat the world. The world has beaten you already, don’t try to do the time, let the time benefit you. Only way you can beat time is by learning something from it. Utilize the time so it will benefit you in the outside world.

Sixty of us prisoners had lined up one behind the other, going to the buses to be shipped off to Joliet prison. The guy in the back of me stepped on the heal of my foot, and in a whispering voice he said, pardon me.

I said, that’s alright man. I turned to the right of me almost facing him. I said, that’s alright these chains are pretty tight. The guard that was standing to the right of us said, straighten up that drill and turn back around and shut up that talking. He looked directly at me. Not too much time had passed that we were at Joliet and they assigned us to our cells. I was on the ninth floor. I think it was sixty six cells, two in a cell. We all stood there with our hands on the bars waiting for the count. Two guards came by like a flash counting one behind the other. I looked up to see the guard in front of us. It was a steel grate bridge (cat walk) that hung from the west wall. The guard could see each cell from that bridge. He walked past my cell, about five minutes later the bell rang for chow. We marched like soldiers into a big huge dining area. We lined up in front of chefs that were serving food. We slid our trays down the railing. This part of the dining room reminded me of the Powell Restaurant on 31st Street. We had some raw string beans, mashed potatoes and a chicken leg and thigh for lunch. It was very quiet in there, only the pots and pans clanging could be heard. There was no talking in the chow room. I sat there. must have counted five guys coming through the line that I grew up with on 27th and Prairie.

A couple of them noticed me. I knew that I would get to speak to them in the yard. They had to be in the B house block, because only the B house was eating at this time. We were back upstairs now in the cell. Upon arrival to jail, every one is given, clothes, soap, razors, and bed linen. They give you two packs of kites and matches. I was just getting ready to roll me a cigarette when I heard from nine floors below in the gallery, someone shouted out my name. Al Wynn, 41115.

I said, yes

On the traffic ticket at 1:00 in the captains office. I turned to my cell partner, his name was S. L. a two time loser. His second trip to Joliet. He had told me everything about being inside and how to protect myself. He told me there was a lot of weird people in the pennitenary. A lot of undercover sissy’s he would put it. Don’t take anything from anyone, he said, especially if you can’t pay it back. If they think that they can take advantage of you, they will wake you up a three o’clock in the morning, and ask for their pay off. They know you can’t pay them at that hour of the night. "Now you have to fight or hurt someone or they will hurt you. It’s best not to take nothing from anyone not even me and I’m not built that way.

What is traffic ticket, I asked S.L? I’m not driving no car I’m in the pennitenary. What the shit is he talking about?"

S.L. was laughing at me now. He don’t mean nothing about no damn driving Al. One of the these guards done wrote you up for something, you have done, you have to go to see Captain Burris.

What if they find me guilty? Then they will lock your ass up. I’m already locked up man, what the fuck are you talking about?

I mean in that damn hole you will see. I stood before the Captain in his office. A big white Irish looking guy sat looking at some papers. Another big guy, who was a sergeant dressed in a prison uniform, stood behind me. He had some piece of paper in his hand. This is Al Wynn Captain, number 41115. He was written up just before we left the diagnostic center for talking in line. He looked up at me, well speak up were you talking?

Yes sir, I was, I answered, trying to be truthful with him and myself. I went on talking.

You see a guy had stepped on my foot and he was apologizing and I told him that it was ok.

The captain leaned back in his chair, and kind of stared at me in a weird kind of way.

Did they give you a rule book when you first got here? And before I could answer he went on talking. I think that book told you no talking in the line, the mess hall and other wise, unless you are told to speak in these areas. Three days in the back. The big guy behind me tapped me on my shoulder and before long he tapped on another steel like door, that lead into what seemed like a long hallway about 10’ x 30’, iron doors lined it on both sides of the hallway from front to end. One guard that unlocked the door, had one desk that sat in the corner at the front of the hallway. O.K. fella turn around, raise your arms. I did, the guard searched me, while the sergeant looked on. O.K. out of your clothes. I said, what!

The sergeant hollered at me, you heard him strip, get the hell out of all of those clothes you have on. After I had stripped, the guard raised the top of a floor locker, built into the wall and gave me a thin pair of gray pennitenary pajamas. They were so thin you could see through them and one gray thin blanket. We walked two doors to the east, where he unlocked the third door and told me to walk in. The way the room was set up, you would think that you had walked in to a basement, because a small window was way up top near the ceiling. The room was about 10’ x 14’. All concrete, walls, ceiling, and the floor. It was pretty lonely, but as the light disappeared from the sun that shined through the window. The floor felt like ice cubes. You tried to cover up and use the little blanket like an overcoat, but that concrete felt rocky and cold to your bottom parts. All night you were trying to pull the cover under you, but was pulling it back to keep warm, and that was a constant battle all night. The next day you had to wait until eleven o’clock in the morning to get two table spoons of whatever they had cooked for that day and one slice of bread. It was a long wait until that next morning for food at eleven o’clock. In two days the hole was almost filled. I shared that cell with about five guys. On that fourth day the sun almost blinded me as I tried to make my way back to B house. I was starved to death. The chow was over by the time I got out of the hole. I said to myself, that was another part of their damn punishments. I had gotten to the B house and a guard had let me in the front door to the house and he called the guard on the ninth floor and told them I was coming up. I walked the stairs weak and wobbly and half blind from the sun. I reached my cell I saw the guard hit the crank to the cell doors, all the doors on that floor came open with a bang. I was laying on my bunk, the top bunk, when someone whispered hi come here for a minute. I slid off my bunk to the floor approaching the bars. Then he said, hi how you doing?

I said, O.K., as I reached the bars.

He said, My name is Pork chop This is your first time going to the hole isn’t it.

I said, Yeah.

He said, yeah I know I am a gallery boy, I sweep the floors and gallery, and I also bring your library books. If there are any books you ever want or need just let me know and I’ll get them for you Here take this bag, he had it in his hand. He kind of pushed it through the bars at me. He said, this is from the fellows that work on the gallery. I know you are hungry, and you haven’t had a cigarette I kind of hesitated a bit.

There is no charge don’t worry about paying us back we do this for all new comers.

I looked down in the bag, and when I looked up he had disappeared, vanished. There was a pack of crackers a small can of Spam and a can of sardines, book of matches, pack of pall mall and a candy bar. As I had said before I was hungry as hell. It seemed like my stomach didn’t have a bottom to it. I looked inside the bag again. I remembered what S.L. had told me. Don’t take any bodies zoo zoos and wham whams or as he said goodies, not even mine, but I was hungry, and I had sized Pork Chop up as he stood in front of the bars. He seemed to be about 5’7 tall weighed about 125lbs, his hair was cut medium sticking straight up, the sides were cut very low, it seemed like someone had put a bowl around his head. He had keen features with a long bottom lip that seemed to flap when he talked. I was hungry and I was going to eat up everything in this bag. I hadn’t begged Pork Chop for this bag. I didn’t know Pork Chop. He told me it was a gift and I didn’t have to pay it back and if Pork Chop gave me any kind of trouble after this, about this bag. They would just have to add to my time, I thought as I opened the can of sardines. I had dozed off and went to sleep with my face towards the wall, when S.L. gently shook me by the shoulder. Al, Al, wake up it’s five minutes before count time, we have to get ready to go to chow. The rules were that every inmate had to stand by the front of the cell with one hand holding the bar. Guards would come by counting heads. If they had to stop for you, if you were on the toilet or whatever, that was an automatic fifteen days in the hole. They had a certain amount of time to get their count in before chow time. There were two counters. The guard that walked past your cell and the other guy on the cat walk. They both did the counting. There was a buzzing signal after the count to let you know the count was over, then after the count there was a clanking sound of the cells being unlocked. Then shortly after, the cells would open. The guys from the back end of the cells would start out first coming to the chow hall, then each cell would be next at the end of the line. While waiting for the end of the line to reach my cell, S.L. was saying, I think that you did wrong Al, for accepting anything from that faggot; you mean to tell me that Pork Chop is a sissy?"

He said, that’s exactly what I’m telling you, and he’s very dangerous with that knife of his.

He killed one guy in Menard Penitentiary, then they sent him off to the nut house, and he killed a guy in Atlanta, He is much older than he looks,. He’s doing ninety-nine years, and he has done fifteen of those years already. You can forget about the bullshit that you don’t owe him nothing, because he really didn’t mean that.

The end of the line had passed my cell now, as me and S.L. headed for the chow hall.

Chapter 3

They had put Billy Joe on the same floor as me. He was in Cell number two, I was in Cell number twenty seven. The ninth floor was the school floor for all in mates who wanted to advance their education. I would see Billy Joe in the yard, at school in the typing class and when we went to chow.

The next three weeks I was busy in school learning the typewriter and trying to learn algebra and hopefully trying to get my G.E.D.

I had seen little of Pork Chop after that scam he ran on me with the zoos, zoos, wham whams and cigarettes. Every now and then I would see him coming from the dinning room, as the ninth gallery was going to the dinning room. We ate at different times the gallery boys and the school and we went to the yard at different times. That was good for me in the long run because Pork Chop would be locked up when I was out and I would be locked up when he was out. While being in the yard, at different times, I had watched the guys lift weights and the body builders. Everyone wanted to be like Charles Atlas. They had gambling games and different crowds, dice and cards. Some guys liked to play football. The he she men as my mother would call them, would crowd around the swings and the see-saw. They wore head bands and polka- dot hair scarves around their heads. As you passed them they would say, hey darling, what’s your name, can I come to your cell tonight? Or can I take you on a long trip through your bars? I would look at them and smile and think to myself (in your dreams mother fucker, you know you can’t get out at night just like I can’t). The game that I loved most of all was handball. I played everyday, except for when it rained or snowed. Between the school and handball, I pretty much had my mind occupied.

It was on a Thursday night, I had gone to the movie. Pork Chop had left me a carton of Pall Mall and a long letter, with S.L. The letter told me that he was in love with me, whatever I needed and any thing from the commissary that I needed to let him know, he was in cell number One hundred and two, and he also was one of the pants and shirt pressers from B House and my pants and shirts would always be free when I wanted them done. I had received sixty dollars from my mother and fifty dollars from Nella. They promised this every month. This coming Sunday was my first visit, Nella would be coming, my mother wouldn’t be able to make it. I was excited. So the next day, I went to the commissary and bought me some penguin dress shoes. You would think that you were looking at Stacy Adams, but they only cost eight dollars. That Friday at about three o’clock, I tipped the barber two packs of Pall Mall for the razor like hair line. Once we were back in B house we had twenty minutes to get ready for chow. The commissary guy was coming around with the cart. The guard wasn’t with him. After he had given us our items that me and S.L. had ordered from the commissary. I said, "Say my man can I give you a pack of cigarettes, for a favor.

He said, yeah.

I said, Can you take this shirt and pants to Pork Chop in cell number one hundred and two and tell him that I have a visit on Sunday and I need them back tomorrow night. I gave him the pants and the shirt and I told him to give Pork Chop three packs of Pall Mall’s. That was the price of pressing. He took the pants through the bars folded them and laid them on the cart, beneath the grocery items. I see you still playing with Pork Chop S.L. said to me as he was looking kind of sideways at me from his bunk.

I said, what you mean?

He said, what I would be doing if I were you instead of fucking with that faggot, I would be asking him how much do I owe you and pay him and get him off of my case. You know that nigger is mentally insane anytime a man can say he’s in love with another man. He’s got to be nuts, or he is for real in the things he believes or feels, and when you are playing with another person’s feelings it can be very dangerous. Here you are trying to deal with a man, but really you’re dealing with two people.

You’re right I answered. I’m going to pay him off when he brings back my pants, but I wanted so much to look the part that I looked in the streets, when my woman comes on Sunday".

I climbed to the top bunk and put my head phones on. The ink spots were singing the gypsy woman. I heard the music and the singing, but my thought mostly was on Pork chop and my shirt and pants being pressed by him. They will give you fifteen days in the hole, if your are caught pressing your clothes or anyone else’s clothes. The one that you were pressing the clothes for, they will suspend the yard for two weeks. Any one could press but they didn’t want to take the chance of getting caught. Pressing consisted of folding the pants together putting a piece of paper between each leg, and having a piece of paper on the bottom and the top of them.

Wetting the creases down with starch and water as they laid on the floor. Then the presser would walk up and down on those creases just like the iron does. Some guys would have their cell mate to help them to lift the mattress and put the pants under the mattress. Most of the time it would be under the bottom bunk. The blanket would be folded at the bottom of the bunk just enough so that the guard couldn’t see the pressing. You rarely got busted for pressing unless there was an unexpected cell search. I didn’t want to have anymore parts of that hole, so I asked God to take care of Pork Chop

The next day was Saturday there wasn’t any school. There was yard twice a day on Saturday and Sunday Eight o’clock to eleven o’clock and then, one thirty to three thirty. We had just finished the evening yard and was waiting for four o’clock, for the count, when Pork chop ran up to the cell.

Come and get these pants and shirt. I was at the bars, and both the pants and the shirt were stiffer than an ironing board.

Here take this cap too, he gave me a new cap that was starched with corner creases in the top, and here take these damn cigarettes He reached in his pocket and brought out the three packs of Pall Mall. I thought I told you in that letter, honey that you don’t owe me a thing, so don’t insult me anymore. If you want to do something for me you can, do me a favor you know I don’t have any visitors, coming to see me, and inmates are not allowed to go to the front commissary. I would like to have one of those store bought chocolate cakes, I think they cost about four or five dollars, I will pay you what ever it costs. This is my number and name.

I got a pencil and wrote it down, I said, you wouldn’t owe me anything I would be glad to do that. One friend helping another friend.

He said, yeah, I hear that, but we’re going to be more than friends. Before you get out of here we are going to get married, honey

S.L. kind of looked up from his bunk, as he stopped just for a moment writing his letter. I said, Look Pork Chop, looking at him very seriously now.

Well honey, you’re going to have to hold your thought. I have to go, here comes the guard.

The visit was very good, especially the kiss. You get one kiss every visit. My wife told me two or three times how good I looked and that the denim set, the pants and shirt were pressed to the tea, like they were done by a professional. She loved my shoes. She thought I had paid big bucks for them. She said, baby you don’t have to spend your money on those clothes. You should be saving your money for the little items you need, toiletries tooth paste, Noxzema, deodorant. You don’t’ have to do that for me, you look real good honey, Nella said.

I gave Nella, Pork Chops name and number, and explained to her why I was asking her to buy the chocolate cake. The outfit the suit that I’m wearing, that you said was pressed so well, he pressed it. And this is his price for the job.

She said, I don’t mine Al, you look very nice today, and if you need a cake every visiting day I don’t’ mine buying it. Now what is it that you want me to send to your cell?

I said, Dove soap, I like that, Noxzema and Colgate toothpaste and you can send me some peanuts, that’s it.

It was almost six o’clock in the evening when the commissary officer came around, 41115 On the commissary. "He called the items out for the inmate commissary guy.

He said, One Colgate toothpaste large, One Noxzema large, One bag of peanuts, and four packs of Dove soap. The boy gave me my items and they left. I shared my peanuts with S.L.

He kind of put the peanuts to the side, I knew he was feeling sorry or sad for himself because his visitor didn’t show. He had three years and one day, meaning he had to do three years before he could do the day. His girl friend worked for R.R. Donnelley’s, and I heard she was a party girl at night, she was a very pretty lady with a dark complexion. This would have been his first visit from her.

Later on as I laid on the top bunk, thinking of Nella. I thought I had Al Hibbler in the cell with me as S.L. sang one of Al Hibbler’s records and he was saying:

As I laid me down to dream of you and I close my eyes another day is through my nights

Are so lonely my memory remains. Only in vain as I lay me down to dreams of you

As I close my eyes another day is through

At one point there, I thought he sounded better than Al Hibbler, he went on singing and I went on thinking about Nella and Joyce, wondering why was I so damn silly to trick my life off the way I did. I promised God and all the responsible people this night that I would never again in life, let a piece of pussy send me to the pennitenary. From now on they are going to have to a have cannon gun to stick me up for sex, cause the boy with the little head can get you in a lot of trouble. I turned my back from S.L. only the walls could see the tears in my eyes.

S.L. went on singing:

My nights are oh so lonely my memory remains loving you only.

Calling your name only in vain

As I laid me down to dream of you. And as I closed my eyes another day is through.

As the weeks went by S.L. had two visits from his girlfriend. He was in good spirits. She had sent him One hundred dollars on the commissary books, that makes a man happy and helps him to feel that he has a lock on his woman, that whatever he had done to her or with her was enough to sustain her until he is released. A couple of months back I cut myself off from Pork Chop, I had stopped excepting anything from him and also had informed my cell mate not to except anything while I was gone.

Pork Chop was furious, he had even started to sending threatening notes, he had said, that I would never leave Statesville penitentiary alive. Eight months had passed and I had been lucky. But the fear of him jumping out of line, or standing in a corner with a home made dagger brought fear everyday that I went to school or the yard. I was constantly looking for him to appear. I didn’t even see him coming from the chow line or from the gallery it seemed like he had disappeared from the B house. And it