Andy, Barney, and the Boyz

I realize that some people would assume that violence would be a major theme when someone was writing about prison. Those same people are probably a little surprised to find that I’ve made little mention of violence , fighting, stabbing, killing, et. al. There were fights on a daily basis, usually several. About 4 or 5 guys got stabbed while I was there. That said it was a medium security prison so it wasn’t Pelican Bay or Leavenworth. No riots, no big gang fights, little of the drama many might expect.

Now the county jails and Federal contract jails were a different story. Jails differ in several ways from prison, none of them for the better. The area of confinement is small, you have little or no movement, and you share these confined spaces with more people than there is really room for.
There are guys coming in off of long drug binges, unstable and unpredictable. Tension from the constant noise and a room full of people with no check on their emotions and no self control is a good setting for trouble.

When I was indicted the Marshals took me in to custody and transported me to a federal contract jail in Osceola. I'm thinking that since they are taking me to the sticks then the jail will be full of hillbillies and tax evaders, I was wrong . I was put in a 16 man tank. Its like an octagon room maybe 18 ft x 18 ft, there are four -4 man cells on one end with the larger area being occupied with 4 steel tables bolted to the concrete floor. A TV bolted to the wall inside a plexi glass box. Oh, and 12 black guys, a really quiet Mexican , 2 white guys and me, makes 3. Don't let anyone ever tell you that there isn’t a huge racial divide in prison, or jail for that matter. In prison the divide is greater than jails, simply because there is no room to separate in a jail. I’m not saying it is right, wrong, or indifferent. It just is.

Back at Osceola I’m having visions of Andy Griffith and Otis the drunk. The guards were as country as a chicken coop. The marshals turn me over and Huckleberry the guard processes me in. I get my stylish orange clown suit, requisite scratchy wool blanket, plastic covered pillow, wash cloth sized towel and postage stamp sized washcloth. I step in the tank expecting good old boys and get Boyz in the Hood. Now I am not prejudice and the only problems I had when I was locked up was with other white guys. But I have to say that walking in to a jail cell that is 85 pct. black guys is a little disconcerting.

So I get settled in and they come around with supper . After I eat I go stretch out on my bunk and catch a short nap. I wake up around 8 or so and go out to the main room for a smoke, the TV is on and all these guys are watching a movie. I noticed that the two white guys were not in the main room. The mexican guy was on the phone speaking Spanish in a hushed tone. I sit down light my smoke just as the commercial goes off and the movie comes back on. The movie was Roots. I shit you not. I don’t recall what part of the mini series it was, I have no recollection of what scene was playing. I just remember thinking Id hot box my smoke and go read a book, maybe a nap.

As it turned out , it was a pretty laid back group, and I never had any problems the whole time I was there. But that first night I didn’t sleep so good.