Greg, Paul, and, Danny  were arrested for skinny dipping and thrown in jail. Inside, they’ve experienced both the cruel and the absurd. Now they are on their way to the arraignment, joyful to be out of the cage. The story concludes with part 3…

 

Jackass

We stepped into the open air, that precious commodity, where we were loaded onto a bus. Paul and I were handcuffed and seated together. In the seat directly in front of us Greg was cuffed to an African-American man who looked like linebacker in the NFL. He was probably six – one, and two hundred thirty pounds, all of it muscle.

As the bus turned right out of the alley and onto the main boulevard, the driver eyeballed an attractive woman who was window shopping across the street. A large brimmed straw hat partially covered her long golden hair, and her white shorts revealed a pair of beautiful legs. The cop whistled. It was that two part wolf whistle that I’d heard in the Forties movies and cartoons. The hat whirled to see where the annoyance was coming from. Her pretty face looked surprised to discover that a law officer was the source. The driver flashed a yellow toothed grin, as if to say – “Whadya gonna do, lady, call a cop?” He then looked at his partner riding shotgun. They both chuckled and snorted

What a jackass! I thought.

Greg’s seating partner reached into his shirt pocket and with his free right hand removed a pack of Kools, . He tapped the pack against his chest, and pulled out a cigarette with his teeth. Returning the pack, he retrieved a match book, and with his thumb he flicked out and bent a single match, and rubbed the head against the striker. The match burst into flame. He lit the cigarette, and took a deep drag. Exhaling a cloud of smoke, he turned to Greg, and asked “What are you in for?”

“Skinny dipping.” Greg answered.

The big man broke into laughter… “Skinny dipping? Huh!… Hell, I killed a guy!” He paused, and added, “But it was self defense; you understand.” He continued to chuckle as he shook his head and took another deep drag.”Skinny dipping?” Shit!”

 

Convicts

After a twenty minute drive, the bus came to a stop. We spilled out, forming a column of twos, and set off walking down a sunny walkway flanked by green grass and shady trees. We could have been in a park, but the handcuffs reminded me that I wasn’t on my way to any picnic. On the grass to our right a group of young boys and girls approached from the opposite direction. Apparently, they were school kids on a field trip to the courthouse. I lowered my head, suddenly feeling embarrassment and shame, thinking of my mother and how her heart would be broken to see me like this. As our two groups bypassed one another I heard a little girl say –

“Look! Miss Harris, are those convicts?”

“Keep walking, children.” The young red haired teacher replied.

Stork  Man, finding himself next to the teacher, suddenly feinted a lunge toward her with his upper body and shouted – “Boogo booga boo!”

The desired effect was achieved. The kids were frightened, and the startled teacher lost her composure.

“You should be ashamed!” she shouted.

Stork Man guffawed and turned his laughing head left and right as if to let everyone know he was the cause of the chaos.

We were taken into a building, and led to a room which adjoined the courtroom, where we were de-cuffed from our partners, and re-cuffed, hands in front. The three of us were sitting, waiting amongst a sea of orange uniforms, when the bailiff  walked over. He was a tall middle aged man  with blond wavy hair, spectacles, and a friendly, intelligent face. If not for the beige uniform, he could be mistaken for a likeable professor.

Leaning down and speaking quietly he asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly was the nature of your alleged crime?”

We told him.

“Ah, yes, Black’s Beach… My wife and I like to swim there on occasion. Great spot!”   He smiled a knowing smile, then asked,

“Did you mouth off?”

We told him no, but that the women had ticked the cops off .

The Bailiff shook his head slowly.

Paul spoke up. “I think a case should be made that the human body is not obscene. The naked form has been considered beautiful since the ancient Greeks. Look at Michelangelo’s David, or the Sistine Chapel.”

“Look,” said the bailiff, “I’m inclined to agree with you intellectually, but that argument’s not going to score you a touchdown with the judge.  A public defender will be here soon. Trust his knowledge and experience.  I’ve also found Judge Gray to be a fair man. Good luck, gentlemen.”

A bit later we were approached by a man in a black suit carrying a leather briefcase. His salt and pepper hair was combed back, and with his horn rimmed glasses, he reminded me of a shorter, stockier Clark Kent.

He extended a hand, and with a congenial smile he said, “Hi, I’m Gerald Rafkin. I’m here to defend you.”

We all shook his hand, and he began inquiring about the circumstances. At a certain point he asked (as I almost lip synched along) …

“Did you mouth off to the arresting officers?”

We filled him in, and he nodded his head, saying,  “It’s obviously a harassment  arrest.  It’s ridiculous, but don’t underestimate the seriousness of the situation. If convicted on these charges, even if you serve no time, you will have a sex crime on your record for the rest of your lives.”

There was an audible gasp among the three of us.

He continued – “Our best bet is to plead guilty to a lesser charge. Get it reduced to a misdemeanor, and allow the judge to make a ruling here and now. Gray is a pretty fair judge. Do I have your ‘go ahead’ on this?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m going to talk to the D.A., and see where their heads are at.”

In the court room next door I could hear the session being called to order by the bailiff.

“All rise. The court is now in session. The honorable Jonathon Gray presiding.”

 

 

 

My heart beat faster and my stomach began to twist as I watched the parade of prisoners marching in and out of the door.

After what seemed like ages, the bailiff stuck his head in, and motioned for us to enter. As we filed across the courtroom to sit on a bench to the left of the judge, I heard stifled giggles. Looking out, I saw our friends. Yes,  I supposed Greg and I,  young and cute, might appear comical  in our orange clown suits, and handcuffs… perhaps like a routine in the Monkees TV  show, where suddenly, and absurdly the boys might appear dressed in striped  jailbird attire, wearing oversized ball and chain props. But this was real. This was my life, and the giggling made me ill at ease.

The bailiff whispered a few words to Judge Gray, who, with reading glasses perched on his nose, began looking over what was next on the docket. The judge gave what seemed to be a sigh of exasperation.

The prosecutor gave his presentation, seeming to sleep walk through it. “They willfully broke the letter of the law, your honor, and blah, blah, blah…”

“Are the arresting officers here?” Gray asked.

“No, your honor, they are not.”

The judge did not seem pleased.

Rafkin stood to defend us. “Your honor, this is a case of friends who hadn’t seen each other in a long while. Feeling happy to be together, they decided to go for a swim in the ocean… only… they didn’t have bathing suits with them… But they really wanted to go swimming…  so …” – he shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms up –  “…they went in without any clothes on.”

It was so concisely put; beautiful in its simplicity.

Judge Gray told both sides to approach the bench, and the three men spoke in hushed tones. At one point  I overheard the judge say “I don’t want to waste any more of the court’s time, Mr. Bennett.”

The huddle broke up with all three men nodding before resuming their places.

Judge Gray asked us to rise.  ” On condition of a plea of guilty, I am reducing the charges to ‘Disturbing the peace’. Do you agree to this?”

“Yes, your honor.” we replied.

He looked straight at us, and said “You are each sentenced to thirty days in county jail.”

My heart sunk. I began to pray.

Judge Gray continued, “The sentence is hereby suspended.”

He struck the gavel forcefully down on the wooden block, as if to say.. Case closed! Get it off my bench! Get it out of my courtroom! I’ve serious work to do!

 

 ‘I Shall be Released’

I had never felt such relief. I wanted to get down on my knees, sing halleluiah, and kiss the floor. In my naiveté, I thought the cuffs would come off immediately, and we’d just walk out the door of the courthouse to join our friends. Not so, we were informed. We had to retrace our steps back to jail to be processed out. We would have to wait until all the ‘i’s were dotted and the all the ‘t’s were crossed.

After being allowed to use the restroom,  I was handcuffed to Paul once again, and we were paraded back to Jackass’s bus for the return trip. My jubilant spirit began to ebb like a deflating tire, leaving me feeling heavy and exhausted.  Stork Man was sitting across the aisle and several seats up. I could hear him bragging.

“Did ya see that teacher jump? I scared the livin’ shit out of that bitch! Did ya see it?”

Someone in back of me had heard enough and yelled. “Hey, man, why don’t  you just shut the fuck up?!”

I recognized the voice… It was Loser from the mug shot bench.

Stork Man turned his head. Everyone averted their eyes. He looked confused, more pathetic than confrontational. He didn’t say another word. Loser had done his good deed for the day.

The bus entered the alley from the other end. Up ahead on the left, a Latino painter was standing on a low scaffold facing a window, holding a brush in one hand, and a can in the other. As the bus drew even with the man, the driver stuck his head out the window and yelled, “Hey!” at his back. The shaken painter wobbled, almost falling from the platform, and spilled paint on his clothes and shoes. Jackass looked at his partner with a grin and they both cracked up.

We were led down the familiar yellow line, entering the tank just after dinner had been served up. My mind was not on my empty stomach. The three of us sat on stools facing the front bars, knowing we were no longer members of this sad community, but officially belonged on the other side. It was now up to the desk jockeys to slide the paper work through the system’s slot in a timely fashion. We sat, waiting.

Greg turned to me.

“Have you noticed how all the trustees have that ‘eyes turned inside out’ look?”

“Yea.”

“I feel like I’ve been getting that same look for a while now. My dorm room has been a jail cell. I’ve just been doing what’s expected of me; hoeing my little row. I watch flocks of birds in flight… They seem to be calling me. There’s nothing keeping me here. This bird is going to fly north to be with you guys. You can bank on it.”

“You won’t regret it, Greg.”

I looked into his dark eyes. The waters beyond ran deep. I knew that he’d dealt with real sorrow in his life, having lost his mother while still a boy, and I could sense the longing in his soul. I felt as close to Greg in that moment as I’d ever felt to anyone.

A group of guards walked by.  Paul tried hailing them.

“Excuse me. Could you inquire about our release?”

They ignored him. We waited.

A good deal of time went by. No word. No acknowledgement that we were any different from any of the other fish in this tank. Another group of guards came by, shouting that everyone should get ready for lockdown.  When one of them saw us remaining in our seats, he instructed us to get in the back, to be locked in with the rest of the prisoners.

Paul spoke up,  “We are scheduled to be released.”

“Can’t we just remain here until the paper work goes through?” I asked.

The guard pondered for a moment, then took pity. “I guess so. Just don’t make any noise.”

“When will they come to get us?” Greg asked.

“Well if it’s not in the next fifteen minutes you’re out of  luck.  You’ll be with us at least another night, and maybe even the whole week-end. Sorry.”

Oh, God. I didn’t think I could bear it. I felt an oppressive cloud descending upon us, and my heart  began to race. I wanted to run. I wanted to fly.  More minutes passed. I said a little prayer.

“Lights out in five!” I heard a man shout.

We had given up hope when I heard footsteps approaching. A guard called out our name. The iron door slid open. It closed behind us. We were out!

 

Moving Toward the Light

 Jimmy and Casey, and Emily and Betsy were waiting for us outside. We all hugged.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I proclaimed,  “I give you the newest member of our musical aggregation.”

Greg stepped forward.

“It’s great to be aboard, but the initiation rite was a little much, don’t  you think?”

There was laughter and applause. Greg then formally introduced Paul to the gang. The latter already had the ubiquitous cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Paul helped us get through this.” I said.

Jimmy shook his hand and kidded him saying, “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”

Paul chuckled. ” I believe I’ll attempt to stay clothed in public for the foreseeable future.”

The guys had bought some fast food from Taco Bell. The sight of the food made me suddenly aware of my growling belly. I thrust my hand into the cardboard tray and grabbed a burrito.

“What? No fish and chips?” Paul joked.

We three mates began scarffing down the fast food. It was delicious.

Paul had made a call, and a friend was coming to pick him up. Greg and I shook his hand. Jimmy handed him our phone number and address.

The older man smiled, and promised to pop in when he was up in area in a few weeks.

Greg was going to spend the night with Emily. This was good-bye.   Jimmy gave him a hug and said – “You’re the piece of the puzzle that’s going to put the picture all  together. We’ll make some great music.”

Casey patted him on the back. “Call us, and let us know when you’ll be coming up.” Lowering his voice, he added, ” And don’t go falling in love in the meantime.”

“Fat chance of that happening.”

Casey caste a sideways glance that spoke a thousand words.

Greg and I hugged. The experience had made us blood brothers for life.

“See you in a week or so, for pancakes.” I said.

“You’ve got it!”

Paul left with his ride.  We said good-bye to Emily and Betsy, and Greg took off with the women in the Bug. It was just the three of us once more.

Before starting the car, Casey paused and turned to us. “I was serious when I said that to Greg. Have you ever known him not to have a girlfriend in his life? I just hope he keeps hanging with Emily until the day he leaves for L.A.”

“He’ll come.” I said.

“Mission  accomplished.” Jimmy said, embracing my optimism.

Once on the freeway, my brother, sitting in the middle, fired up a doobie, and offered it to me.

I waved it off. “Thanks, but it’s just too soon after too much weirdness. I could use a beer, though.”

The guys had been staying with two male college friends of  Emily and Betsy’s in a two bedroom house near the beach in La Jolla. That was where we were headed.  “They’ve been really cool.” Jimmy said.

The house was a little white clapboard. We gathered in the living room, sitting down on an oriental carpet that partially covered the hardwood floor. Bill and Alan were really nice guys. They were surfers – intelligent, book reading surfers  (Imagine that!).  Ironically, I  would later learn that Bill was the man with whom Emily had had her tryst. Alan, who was over twenty-one, came back with a case of beer and set it down in the middle of the carpet. I pulled one out, popped the top, and poured the liquid down my throat, as Jimmy began humorously describing the events in the courtroom. He had Rafkin’s speech down.

“They decided to go for a swim in the ocean…. only they didn’t have bathing suits with them. But they really wanted to go swimming… ” he shrugged his shoulders and turned his palms up in imitation. “so…they went in without any clothes on.”

Everyone broke into laughter.

I’d thought I would be in a mood to party, and at first I tried to maintain the extroverted good time charley act, telling my absurd coffee cup story. But Greg and Paul were not there. No one present had shared the experience with me. I found myself wanting to draw inward.  I felt my eyes “turning inside out”.  I grabbed another can. It began to dawn on me just how traumatized I was by the event. Though I had not suffered any physical abuse, the idea that I’d been caged like an animal was painful to recall. I’d gotten through the experience by having companionship, maintaining a sense of humor, and desensitizing myself.  I thought back to the courtroom. What if those thirty days had not been suspended? I would still be behind bars. I had not even allowed myself to prepare for that possibility.  Whew! I’d lucked out.

We had fallen into the slimy underbelly for only a brief moment, but I would never view the world in quite the same way. Things were not going to change overnight. Institutions and systems were rigid. Corruption ran deep, and prejudices seemed to be chiseled in stone. In spite of everything,  I truly believed that change was as inevitable as the continental drift, and that ever so slowly, we were moving toward  the light. In the meantime, one had to fight the good fight, and sing the good song. I reached for another beer.

I held the can in my hand, and looked at it. Hamm’s Beer it said “From the land of sky blue waters”. I’d heard the  product’s jingle throughout my childhood. I began to sing the melody softly to myself.

From the land of sky blue waters…

I knew that the reference was to the lakes of the Northern Midwest, but in my mind I saw the blue Pacific moving under clear California skies. I remembered the feeling of elation on the trip down. “Never forget it” I told myself.

I could still smell that nauseous jail odor. It had settled in my hair, as if trying to pull me back in. It was the smell of captivity, of the desensitized soul. I wanted to purge myself of it and all its negativity, to be baptized in the ocean waters. I imagined I was diving into a rising wave, emerging to feel its salty spray on my face, digging my toes into the sand, and turning  my head upward to gaze at a pelican circling the sky…

Free.

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