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Straight Life - Art Pepper [97]

By Root 1464 0
and it's singing "Gloomy Sunday," of all songs, man. It was a voice like usually only the black men have, almost a feminine voice, high, and very, very pretty, very sensual and warm and very much in tune, with a sweet sound and a nice vibrato, and it's Stymie's voice. I looked at the guys in my tank. They were all quiet. They were all listening-Jew Bill, who used to go around with a guy from Tennessee; they broke in on a black dealer that was keeping a white woman and pistol-whipped him, made him piss on the white chick's head calling her "white tramp," "nigger lover"; they beat the dealer half to death and stole his dope. I saw these two brothers, armed robbers, who took so much coke that one time in a hotel they flipped out and started shooting through the hotel doors. I looked over at the black tank and saw other guys who'd done terrible crimes. And everyone was just sitting or standing or leaning on the bars of the tank, looking out the windows, looking out on the parking lot, out at the freeway going toward Hollywood, out at the free people. I saw them standing against the bars and I thought, "They're going to the penitentiary. They may never get out again. They've left the woman that they love out in the streets. And here they are listening to this song, sung by a black man, listening to this sadness and this beauty." And I thought, "Where's the justice? Why do these things happen? Why do we do these terrible things? What causes us to do these things?" Some black guys started humming along with Stymie, and it was so pretty and so sad that all the ugliness was forgotten and all the hatred, and for that short while we were, like, brothers. And that's why I talk about Sunday and God and the beauty of music. Everything was wiped away, and we were just human beings sharing a common sadness.

(Freddy Rivera) As Art started going to jail, there was a further intensification of the traits that were already there. More dependence. More disregard for reality. A heightened refusal to take any direct action. Or to be more careful. I also know that he liked prison. He liked the brotherhood. I do think that he liked being told what to do, being taken care of, having someone else organize his life. And, lacking self-esteem, he could go into an environment where he could identify, believing unconsciously that he was a black sheep, ostracized from the "respectable" world. Feeling that way all of his life, he could readily identify with all these other outcasts. Furthermore, going into prison, he is a famous musician. Rightfully so. He really is somebody. And I say that he is somebody out of prison; that's a fact. But in prison, you see, he's with people who, often in their own hearts and in the minds of the outside world, are total rubbish. So when he comes into this environment, now we have a demigod. He told me even one of the guards spoke to him admiringly, very surreptitiously, sotto voce. Even the guard, huh? So this was an environment where he could get a great deal of support and admiration, feel more comfortable, and have a constant, ongoing family-whatever they do, rapping cups on the bars, screaming across ... Always a family. It's almost like being in Italy. Hahahaha! And you're not alone. So when he makes the statement that criminals are better ... Of course they're better. They love him. He was really somebody. I'm not dealing with the question directly because there can be, in prison, fine people, great people. If you don't believe me, ask Lenin. We also know that in prison we have people that are hardly to be called human. Just as we have them on the street, out here, too. And in the government, and in Beverly Hills.


I THINK I did nine months altogether in the county jail; I did three months, dead time, waiting for my trial. Finally my release date came, and I walked up the spiral staircase to an iron gate, and these two guys came over to me, two guys in suits, older guys; they had big hats on and they looked just like marshals. One of them said, "I'm Marshal So-and-so. I'm sorry to tell you that your conditional release

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