Straight Life - Art Pepper [183]
She brought the drink, and I remember playing. I played beautifully, and the people loved it. I really reached them. I played "Everything Happens to Me." I stayed on the stand, and the guys were looking at me. They didn't say anything, but we'd been up there for about an hour and a half. I realized there was no way out. Even if I stayed on the stand the whole night the cops would grab me, but I figured I'd play as long as I could and give the people their money's worth-so I'd have something to remember and they'd have something to remember me by. At last I announced the intermission. I introduced the guys in the band and told the people, "It's beautiful playing for you. You're a marvelous audience." Then I said, "It's just a shame that all of you aren't like most of you are." I started talking in circles. I was rapping to the people, and I think they saw some of the sadness I felt. I put my horn down, and turned to the guys, and I said, "Yeah, it was a great set. Thank you." And the minute I left the stand a guy walked up to me and said, "Please follow me. I'ma police officer."
I knew I had no chance. I walked outside, and the guy said, "Alright. Up against the wall." I said, "Ohhhh, man, why don't we get away from this club?" He yelled, "Against the wall!" So here's the front of the club, my name in big letters, and me against the sign getting shook down. "I have a warrant for your arrest. We have an APB out for you. Parole violation." They handcuffed me. All the people were out there watching and I felt that they were really with me. Some of them said, "Is there anything we can do?" It was a touching thing, but these cops couldn't have cared less. "Alright! Come on!" They threw me in the car. I was glad Diane hadn't come along. She'd had an outfit in her purse. They asked me, "Where's your old lady? How'd you get here?" I told them I'd hitchhiked. They said, "Yeah, sure." This kid I'd come with was practically crying. He came up to the police car and I said, "If you ever run into my old lady, tell her goodbye for me."
18
San Quentin: Tattoos
1965 - 1966
THEY TOOK ME to the Orange County jail, and finally word came back from the parole department: "You've been violated. You'll be taking the chain back to San Quentin as soon as the bus is ready." And I said, "Oh, that's great. That's just great-."
It was at this point I thought, "Well, man, I am a criminal." See, now, when I was a kid I read books about murders, mystery stories, detective stories. I saw all the movies about the "Big House." I loved things like that and I would have been happy to be a criminal until I saw the people who really were criminals: most of them were dumb and stupid and stank. But there were a few that were sharp and hep, and every now and then I'd see some real armed robber and I'd think, "Well, what do I like about this guy?" I thought, "I've got to make myself the kind of convict I like, a hep convict. I want to be proud of myself." I'd look at him and see that he had tattoos-a skull and "Hate" and "Death to All."
A Mexican guy I knew in the Orange County jail was good at tattooing, so I asked him to give me one. He said, "Man, are you kidding? You've been in the joint twice and you're going to get a tattoo now?" He said, "Look at me." He had tattoos all over. "I'd give anything in the world if I hadn't started putting these things on." I said, "No, no, don't talk me out of it."
He had a bunch of pictures that he'd drawn, and I could choose one. I saw a pretty one of flowers with a place to put a name, and I said, "Let me have that one." He