"The snitching code is so rigid, that no middle ground is recognized."
The Honor System
The Penitentiary library was like a public library in
many ways. There was a librarian, there were books, the
facility was open during certain hours, and people came
in to check out books. That was where the similarities
ended.
One of the primary differences was the accountability
for the items checked out. Sure, you put your name on a
card so the librarian knew who had the books, but there was
no penalty for keeping the books beyond the time frame
allowed. I guess the due date was more of a suggestion.
The library staff was hoping that housing-unit staff would
fi nd the books in the cells or lockers, notice that they were
overdue, and confi scate them. As if we did not have enough
to do. Returning books became the honor system amongst
those with no honor.
Do homosexuals use your local library as a meeting
place where they can secretly have sex? No? Well, I guess
that would be another primary difference between a typical
public library and the Penitentiary library. Due to the
previously mentioned return problem, the stacks are so low;
you could be your own lookout. One of the best library
customers was an old man who came in wearing an adult
diaper everyday. In his youth, and I guess, for most of his
adult life as well, he willingly took it from well-hung guys,
blew out his O-ring, and no longer had the ability to hold
his mud.
"Hey, can I get some of that man-pussy?"
"You and me, we're dinosaurs, and make no mistake.
the meteor's coming."
Escaping Celebrity
"Man, I was down in Paraguay visiting my relation, and
I got off my beaten path due to a problem with my vehicle.
I caught a lift from a guy who looked strangely like Bernie
Taupin. Remember the guy who used to write music with
Elton John? He was going to take me back to a public phone
where I could make a call, but then his car broke down. We
must have been close to his place, because we began walking
in a direction that I would not have predicted. He pulled a
cell phone out of his left breast pocket and punched a speeddial
button. I did not hear much more than what appeared
to be slightly disguised discussion, but I could have sworn I
heard him say the name "Elvis." I dismissed it, thinking even
if he did say Elvis; it was probably somebody's nickname.
The Bernie look-a-like must have been drunk or stoned or
something like that because he led me to a place back in the
sticks that nobody else could have found, no way.
The man who looked like Bernie Taupin turned out to be
really him, and he introduced me to a woman named Gana.
She was old, and spoke no English. I am not sure she spoke
much of anything. Apparently she was just the maid at this
boarding house for "dead" celebrities, only she doesn't know
who they are. They collectively found her and hired her to
run the show because she has no idea who they are due to
her lack of conveniences like television and newspaper. I
eventually met Elvis, JFK, Jim Morrison, Jimmy Hoffa,
Adolph Hitler, Princess Diana, and Abe Vigoda."
"I suppose they tell jokes too, about Elvis leaving the
building, or eating fried banana and peanut butter and
Quaalude sandwiches."
If you are from Nebraska, you will recognize the name,
Tommy Frazier. In fact, if you consider yourself a football
fan at all, his name will instantly conjure up Big Red
highlight reels. Human nature makes us think of people
we know when we are exposed to a matching last name. In
many cases, we ask straight out, "Hey, are you related to.,"
only to hear a negative response. I was informed before I
even met Melvin Frazier that he was the older brother of
Tommy. Melvin was a short-term resident at the receiving
facility, and would parole after a 90-day evaluation. The
minor mix-up he was arrested for did not subtract from his
pseudo-celebrity status. Being the brother of the President
might not get you much attention, but being the brother of a
Big Red God sure did.
Back in the day, at the D & E, I was assigned as a utility
(gopher) one particular Saturday morning. A utility is a
multi-purpose employee who gets tasked with a multitude
of things ranging from relieving other staff and delivering
cleaning supplies to supervising the transfer of units to the
yard and escorting inmates to various locations throughout
the facility. Melvin was putting on his Sunday-best, which
meant his best pressed khaki inmate uniform, and making
sure his shave was just right. The attention to detail made
me think he was expecting a visit from family. It donned
on me that his brother, Tommy, could be coming. I wanted
to make sure I was assigned to be his escort to the visiting
room, just so I could see Tommy Frazier. I asked Melvin
who was coming, but he acted like he did not know. When
the call came for a 10-14 (inmate escort) from Melvin's
housing unit, I bolted. I could hear the speedy shuffl e of
other footgear making their way down the hall from multiple
directions. Apparently I was not the only utility who had
intentions of meeting Tommy Frazier that day.
I was the fortunate fi rst to arrive, and Melvin was ready.
It was unprofessional of me, but I was prepared with my pen
and notebook, hoping for an autograph. Later, I would ask
for a copy of the visiting room tape, just to see if you could
spot me shaking hands with Tommy. My head was on a
swivel when we arrived in the visiting room, but not for long.
When Melvin was spotted by his joyous, and rather immense
white girlfriend, I knew my efforts went for nothing. Melvin
knew it all along, and just grinned.
"Better luck next time Batiste."
A year later, I was working in the housing unit 6, C-bay
area, when a call came for a visiting pass. It was once again,
a pass for inmate Frazier.
"Who is coming today, Melvin?"
"I don't know," he said with that same patented Frazier
grin.
"Dude, you remember the last time I was involved with
one of your visits? We were both at the DEC, and I bolted
to your house so I could escort you? I was hoping it was
your little brother, Tommy. You said you didn't know, and
it turned out it was this giant white woman."
"Yah, that's my wife; (awkward silence) It's probably
her again." Melvin left smiling, so removing the foot from
my mouth was performed out of his sight.