Jailhouse Rock

 In which the author interviews a reluctant subject about life in the Big House.

     Due to the benevolence of the Social Security Administration* we occasionally receive a statement from them detailing what we have earned here at what I like to call the “Darcy Family Compound.”  Being the sort that is easily amused I enjoy perusing the document while reminiscing about the year I clawed my way out of the poverty level for the “ Non-Farm Family of Four” or the year I finally achieved the enviable  5-digits –west-of- the-decimal point status. But for 1986 I noticed that “Spike”, as Mr. Darcy has chosen to be named for the benefit of this blog, did not contribute to our tax base.    “How is it that you were not participating in our economy that year?” I asked. Spike replied that he had been a “guest of the county.”  I knew that due to numerous misdemeanors and felony DWIs he had done some time but had not known it was for almost an entire year.  I used this newfound knowledge to ask Spike some questions about prison life.

     Did you have tin cups that you rattled on the bars of your cell or pounded on your table?

     We were only allowed to have spoons; there were no knives or forks.  We had plastic dishes and cups and there was no pounding or rattling of any sort.  We were in the county lock-up at Yaphank and nobody wanted to go back to Riverhead, where conditions were worse.

     Is that why they call it “sent up the River”?

     That “river” is the Hudson; those guys were going upstate to Ossining or some State Penitentiary.

      So when you were in the Big House…

     It wasn’t the “Big House”, again, that refers to some joint upstate, not the county lock-up.

     Was there at any time, anyone playing the harmonica like in the movies?

     No, and nobody was singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” or “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen”.  We weren’t allowed to have any musical instruments or art supplies and before you ask, we weren’t allowed any pet birds like in “The Birdman of Alcatraz”.  Also, are all your questions going to be this idiotic?

     Probably yes, and speaking of “Alcatraz”, did you guys spend all your time plotting your escape?

     No, pretty much we were just doing our time so we could get out, we didn’t want to jeopardize our release date by acting stupid.

     Gotta ask, what finally made them lock you up?

     I won’t lie; I decapitated a fire hydrant by the A.L.  Jacobsen Funeral Home, (aka “Al’s Funeral Parlor”). When I was chained to a desk at the precinct, they told me I had flooded out the basement and there were bodies floating downstairs. I never ran into another car, or person, or hurt anyone, which I might have if I hadn’t been locked up.

     What did you do all day in jail?

     We all had jobs, like garbage detail or food prep or something.  We used to watch all the cop shows like “Baretta” and “Rockford Files”.  A couple of guys were always trying to make “hooch”, which is made with yeast, sugar and fruit juice.  You just pray that it ferments… Okay, no more questions.

     Spike had evidently run out of patience with my probing journalistic style, but I have found out from previous nosiness that there were no riots, hunger strikes or people making blades out of sharpened toothbrushes, and certainly no re-enactments of “Thriller.”

     Eventually, with the support of family and friends, and to the everlasting gratitude of the Orange and White Cab Company, Spike made the courageous decision to stop driving.  Yes, it was the driving that was causing all the trouble in his life and it was time to put an end to it. That was 1987.

    Thanks to Spike’s involvement in A.A., sanity, grace and clarity ensued and by 1992 Spike quit drinking and now has 21 years of sobriety. He is has no animosity towards the system that jailed him as it may have saved lives other than his own.

     Dedicated to Spike and his 21 years (and one day!), of sobriety.

*This column is not commenting on the origin, strength or future of Social Security, the author leaves that to greater minds than hers.