Straight Life - Art Pepper [217]
They put me in the hospital. The next morning, at about five o'clock, I heard a bell ring and I found I was strapped down. , looked around and I saw people, but they weren't like the people from before in the hospital. These people were nuts! I was in the nuthouse! An aide came by. I said, "What's going on? What am I doing here?" He just gave me one of those looks and walked on. I yelled, "There's nothing wrong with me, man! I'm just sick! I'm supposed to be in the medical part! I'm not crazy! All these people are crazy! I'm not crazy! What are they doing?"
Finally they took the straps off. They made us get up and wash our teeth. They stood there and watched, helped some of them wash their faces. Then we lined up in the medication line. People were doing all kinds of weird little things-giggling, moaning, doing little dance steps, talking gibberish, bowing, and howling like dogs. I get up to the medication window and I say, "There must be some mistake. They put me in the wrong place. My name's Arthur Pepper. I don't belong here." But the guy says, "Oh yes, Mr. Pepper. Here's your name. Right here. Here's your chart. Here's your medication. Here it is. Right here." I say, "Well, it's a mistake. I'm not crazy. I'm cool. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm just a little rundown, that's all. Physically rundown. I shouldn't be here." He said, "Well, you'll have to talk to your doctor about that." He gave me my medication, and pretty soon I wasn't feeling any pain.
I was there for about three weeks. You get up early in the morning. It's still dark out. A bell rings, and you go to the bathroom, and when you finish with the bathroom they put you in the hallway and lock the iron gate. You get your medication, and then they put you in the dayroom. You go from there to eat your meal and then back again to the dayroom. March to your meal. Back to the dayroom. March to your meal. Back to the dayroom. Then they line you up for medication, open the gate, and shuffle you off to bed.
I spent two or three days just looking at people as if I was at a movie. I thought, "Boy, these cats are sure far-out." They weren't as far-out as the people I saw at Fort Worth, but they were pretty crazy. The third day I was sitting in the dayroom when one of the aides came over to me and said, "Would you like to play some dominoes? Some of the fellows are trying to get a domino game together." I looked at him. I thought he was joking. He was a black cat, and I thought he was just goofing on me. I said, "Yeahhhh! Hahaha!" He said, "No, man, there's some guys here-they want to get up a domino game-and I thought maybe you'd like to play." I said, "What guys?" I saw he was serious. I looked over and here were three guys. They were standing there with their heads drooped over, kind of slobbering on themselves. I looked at this aide, and I looked into his eyes and tried to search him out. I said, "You want me to play with them?" He said, "Well, I thought, maybe, if you guys would like to get together. It's good therapy for you, but if you don't feel up to it . . ." And I realized that he really thought that I ... he thought I was like them!
I had been there three days, and I thought it was only because I had to get a paper signed. I had to get this paper signed because I had to go into Synanon because I had no place else to go. But, I mean, as far as really belonging there