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The Roommate Chapter 11 To Home Again
From the end of Chapter 10
I went to the outer waiting room for Beau to finish his exit strip search, and soon he too left shaking Lt. Hughes' hand with genuine vigor.
We walked out of the administration building, and headed for my car.
"Well that was certainly educational...especially for one of us I bet. Sometime soon we will have to renew that discussion of involuntary servitude and the punishment of incarceration in a non-slave state prison. But all that can wait." Beau said as we walked away toward my car.
I looked at him, but said nothing but just nodded.
"By that way." Beau said as he assessed my sudden speechlessness. "Do you want me to drive so relieve you of excessive movement on your posterior?"
I smiled. "Good idea. I may just sit lightly in the passenger seat."
"While we're driving back to Williams, we'll have a long talk."
Again Beau gave me his most laconic smile and nodded.
CHAPTER 11 TO HOME AGAIN
The Thanksgiving Adventures Continue
In all actuality, I really wanted to escape Hampden Correctional Facility. I think I must have the same feeling that a real inmate has after experiencing the horrors of incarceration for a long period of time. I did not need years...as I suspect neither did the inmate who had to spend years there... to know that it was a horrible experience. I thought of the man who was making the scarves like the one Beau was taking to his daughter. Was his experience truly "rehabilitation"? I doubted it. He had found a way to feel some self-worth in a place where he and all the inmates were constantly reminded that they had little or no self-worth. In truth I was shaken. Many of my normal concepts of being in prison did not seem all that true anymore. I suspect that it is the rare inmate who after spending time in this warehouse of demeaning and dangerous existence leaves with any idea other than I have survived hell. Certainly he knows that the state is not interested too much in rehabilitation and the chief function is that old phrase, make the inmate "pay for his crime."
I also questioned whether the primitive idea that a sore butt really was the key to an improved person. My butt certainly reminded me that if I were an inmate in the SHU that I would not ever try to communicate from one cage to another, and I would not make contact with the steel mesh which held me inside.
I remembered that my Father had indeed paddled me on two occasions. I do not remember what action on my part had provoked this primitive response from my father, but I do remember that the result of the experience for me was anger at my father, and not contrition and a desire to improve. I was leaving Hampden Correctional realizing that the actual name of the place was a somewhat ironic, or worse, a deliberate piece of hypocrisy. What was being corrected there? Absolutely nothing. What was being learned there? On this one I was not sure, but I suspect what was being learned here was how much society is willing and anxious to punish, demean, and destroy the person and the family of those who have, for whatever reason, broken the rules of society.
One day and one paddling had made clear to me that the whole justice system which I had so staunchly defended to Beau was crueler, more discriminatory, and more hypocritical than I would never have believed. I walked out of the front door of the Administration Building of Hampden Correctional Facility with no faith in the totally misnamed Department of Correction.
I was so deep in thought that I did not hear Lieutenant Hughes call Beau back to the door of the Administration Building. I only stopped when Beau broke into my diatribe by yelling "Frank! Stop for a minute. Lieutenant Hughes is calling back for me." I stopped, but not because I really cared what Lieutenant Hughes wanted. This was a man who had delivered me to pain and humiliation. I suspect I felt in some degree what any inmate newly released from prison feels, and that is more anger and little appreciation for the educational and helpful correction from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
I did stop however. I did have a fear to disobey. I was not so far away from the facility that Lieutenant Hughes could not have me retaken into the place. I immediately thought to myself, "Frank you are being paranoid. You are over reacting." But I also knew that the experiences of today would not be something soon forgotten. No, I knew that today was truly one of the days that I would remember for the rest of my life.
I saw Beau go back and take some sort of tube from Lieutenant Hughes. As he approached me I knew I should stop to wait for him, but the stronger emotion I had was to just keep on moving away from this place. Reason lost to emotion, and I keep moving quickly toward my car.
"Wait Frank!" Beau called after me.
I smiled my inward smile. No I was not going to wait for Beau. It was going to be awful to admit to him that he might very well be correct and that the involuntary servitude system of the rest of the country might actually not be all that worse, and might be better than what I had experienced that day.
I kept walking toward my car and my escape from the inside and even the grounds of Hampden.
"SHIT BUDDY" Beau growled when he caught up with me. "What are you trying to do? You act like you are in some sort of race to get back to the car."
I chose to continue my petulance with the snotty reply. "SO!?" As soon as I said that reply, I actually smiled and not just inside me, but I felt the smile on my face.
"Frank STOP. They are not coming to take you back. I do NOT need to get into a race with you. STOP!"
Finally some reason returned to me, and I stopped.
"GOD DAMN Frank what in the Hell is wrong with YOU?" was Beau's reaction to the foot race which I had created in my dash to escape the Hampden.
"Beau I want to go home. NOW."
"Frank that is sure as shit clear to me. However, Lieutenant Hughes gave me this bottle of cream which will help with the pain and the swelling that your beautiful butt is now experiencing."
"Well I hope you don't expect me to go back there and thank him, do you?"
"No Frank...I am sorry. I see that the SHU really shook you and your beliefs. I am sorry to yell at you. Frank, I will never bring this experience back up to you. We will work to forget it."
I finally realized my irrational behavior. Where was the Williams College confident and secure freshman? I needed him back.
"I'm sorry Beau. I should not snap at you. I am not mad at you." I paused here.
Beau looked at me, and his normal smile and ready banter disappeared.
"Frank I really cannot begin to understand what a shock the SHU, and perhaps all that we saw here today has been to you. I only wanted to give to you this salve which Lieutenant Hughes wanted me to give to you to relieve swelling."
I realized that I was not acting rationally. I stopped at the car. Looking across the top of the car at Beau I finally got my thoughts together enough to tell Beau what was truly keeping me agitated.
"Beau, today has made me be a lot less sure about my position about the rest of the states' use of involuntary servitude. However, I suspect that in those states there may be difference in situations like the difference between Enfield and Hampden.
I have no doubt that the involuntary servants at your plantation are well treated, but I remember reading a book about how the whites in the South after the Civil War used the legal system to actually re-enslave many Black men into a hellish existence of being overworked, whipped, given terrible food and actually lived a slave life much worse than existed for Blacks under the old slavery system. Now the white farm, mine, or factory owner had to only pay a few dollar fine for one of the almost endless series of crimes for which a Black man could be convicted, such as loitering, and then take than Black man in chains to his farm, factory, or mine, keep his housed in squalor, and keep him working until he died or collapsed all for pennies a day. White guards for these convict slaves were paid little, and little was spend on the health and safety of the black workers. Others had told me that the book exaggerated, but the images remained in my memory. Beau I know you would not do anything like that, but does something like that happen with your involuntary servants at other plantations, factories or other placed using these servants?"
I stopped when I realized that I had just rambled off topic. "I just don't know now what I believe now." I finally said.
By this time we were at the car. Beau unlocked the doors, and I gingerly sat down. Beau got in and started the car. "Frank you are going to have to guide me back to your home, so keep alert."
I realized that I did have a responsibility to get us back to my home, and so I guided Beau back to my home. During all this time, I we only discussed directions. Finally we were in our driveway. I looked over at Beau. He looked at me, and could tell he was going to begin a serious conversation by the way he turned to me as soon as the engine was turned off.
"Frank how are we going to discuss this day with you Dad? You know he is going to want to know all about our experience. We know that your Dad used his influence to get us into parts of those prisons that no normal citizen would ever see, and especially the SHU. Before we go in we need a plan."
I looked at Beau. He was right. My Father would indeed do his impression of the Great Inquisitors Beau continued taking charge. "Since I am the one who had the least knowledge about the prison system in these non-involuntary servitude states, I will take the lead, and you can just add information now and then. I imagine that your Dad is most interested in my reaction, and he will just expect you to support the system you saw. I think I can keep you Dad interested, and all you need to do is to chime in now and then and otherwise just nod as I make a point." I nodded assent.
We exited the car, and went into the house.
"There you are!" my Mother exclaimed as we entered. "The prison called to tell us it was on lockdown, and you would be stuck inside a cell block until it was over, and so we all went ahead and ate. But there is plenty left, and we will have it on the table in no time. Why don't you go up and get changed. You've been in those clothes all day, and I know you might want to change before dinner." She then sort of stiffed in our direction and added "And perhaps you want to shower to get that "prison" smell off you. I sometimes notice it when you Dad comes back from a prison inspection. I really do not know what they do in those places that makes them smell so funny. Well, anyway you boys go up and shower and change and by the time you are done, we'll have everything ready for you." My Mom smiled at both of us. Actually both Beau and I were a bit overwhelmed at her torrent of words, and so we both just nodded and went back to our bedrooms.
I assume what Beau did and I did, and that was to follow my Mother's advice, and I took a nice hot shower, and dried myself off on one of our thick soft towels. I think I had never appreciated these luxuries before. They had always been a part of my life. Now I knew that they were not a part of everyone's life, and so became, perhaps for the first time, sincerely thankful for the luxuries I had in my home and life.
I heard a knock at my door and when put a towel around my waist and then I answered it. There was Beau with the tube of salve.
"Frank I am sorry. I forgot to give this to you. Do you need it?"
In fact I had not really sat down from the time I had entered my bedroom and immediately went into the bathroom to take my shower. I suddenly realized that I had not felt unusual pain as I had showered. Perhaps I did not need the stuff, I thought.
I went into my bathroom and looked at my butt in the mirror. I might not think I needed the salve, but the butt was still black and blue. I went back out of my bathroom.
"Actually, I think I am in reasonably good shape. Leave it here, and if I need it later I will come back and put it on." I really do not want to embarrass myself or Beau with his having to rub the salve on my butt. I know we had been through Hell today, together, but now that we had escaped hell, I was feeling better.
.
Beau then did something that surprised me. He came over to me and hugged me. "Frank, I am proud of you!" Beau said. "You went through some serious Hell today, and to look this good so soon after is really a compliment to your character. Frank, seriously, I am impressed. I had no idea you were this strong."
I looked at Beau, and I could tell that both he, and now myself, were really caught up in the moment. I was a bit uncomfortable with this male bonding that I sensed, and so answered.
"Beau, I appreciate your comment, but I know you were just trying to get out of rubbing my butt."
Beau laughed, and the mood changed. Beau put down the tube of cream with a "Maybe later you will need a bit. I think just to thank Lieutenant Hughes you should use some of it to thank him for the gesture."
I nodded, and I think perhaps I was thankful that this reasoning could allow me to use the cream and still preserve my male ego.
I decided I needed a butt test before going down to eat. I went over to the desk that was in my room, pulled out the chair and sat down. DAMN IT HURT. I decided I would indeed try some of the salve. I went over to the tube, and unscrewed the cap. The stuff had a sort of medicinal smell, but was not too pronounced. I squeezed some on my hand and began rubbing my butt.
There was a sort of cooling feeling which came to the area on which I had placed the cream. I decided that the cooling was nice enough to rub the cream all over even if it did nothing else for me. I took a bit of time to finish the entire area of the black and blue abused skin. I put the lid back on the tube and waited to see if I was feeling anything different. I was not sure. Somehow it did not feel like anything had happened, but I reasoned, even if it did not help, it certainly had not hurt. I went back into my bathroom, washed my hands, and went to my stash of aftershave and splashed on my face, I thought perhaps if my aftershave was strong no one would notice my butt cream smell.
Fortified with something to help me sit, and with camouflage of aftershave I ventured to go downstairs for dinner. As I went into the dining room, I heard my Father and Beau, talking, and my Mother making a side comment. I wondered what Beau had been telling my parents.
"Welcome son," my Father said as I entered. I was a bit taken aback. I could not remember my Father addressing me in this manner ever, I was always "Frank" or when he was irritated or formal "Franklin."
"Beau has been explaining how thorough and careful you were in our trips today. I was impressed that you insisted, and Lieutenant Hughes had enough respect for you two to allow you into the SHU. Authorities do not allow any but the most respected and trustworthy into that unit.
It speaks well of you both. Beau also has told me that when the lockdown came you were in the unit and actually you were both in cells, and of course when a lockdown is declared, the doors all close and so you had to spend the lockdown in a SHU cell. I am sure that experience made really experienced how restricted those cells are. The SHU was made to punish, and that included making sure that the inmate felt the walls."
At this point, I had a lot of desire to say a whole lot to tell my Father a whole lot about the SHU, and the discipline and inhumane isolation of the inmates there... even to their limited recreation.
However, I decided to go for something noncommittal.
"Yes Dad, I think that both Beau and I are thankful that we never will actually have to spend much time in a situation like the SHU."
"Beau also described that before Lieutenant Hughes could get back to you in the SHU you had been served dinner. We really howled laughing at his description of the food. I am sure you are ready to have something a bit better here."
.
"Yes Father, I will have to tell you that the food I had there was the worst eating experience I have ever had, and that includes the time my friend in fourth grade shared his sandwich with me, only that it was a prank and the sandwich was mud."
Beau beamed at me, and I smiled back at him. Beau had worked his magic, and had given my parents enough information to satisfy them and not cause us to be peppered with endless questions, and also disarmed the whole experience and allowed to conversation to move to food.
Soon we were talking about the magnificent left overs, and lunch at Tony's Grinders.
Soon I was eating and Beau and my family were safely on Tony and his family.
I managed to sit gingerly, and appreciated that the cream did seem to help. As I was eating, Beau was describing all that he had noticed at Tony's and around Springfield. I admired how he had managed to move the conversation from out trips to prison and on to safer areas. I do not think I had ever before really noticed how truly skilled Beau was with people and perceptive about the world around him. I had respected his intelligence, and his people skills, but now I realized that Beau had these skills to a degree most people did not have, and especially at his age.
The fortunes of the plantations and enterprises of the family of Beauregard Jackson Thomas Masterson would be in very good hands when Beau took them over.
After my family had been entertained by Beau and seemed satisfied that they knew enough about our day not to pepper us with more questions, I excused myself with the explanation that the day had been long, and I needed my sleep. Beau also excused himself, and soon Beau and I were back upstairs at our bedrooms.
There was a fairly quiet knock at my door. I went there, and asked "Whose there?"
"It's me Frank." came the reply.
I opened the door. I could not resist. "Actually Dean's List Scholar, it should be "It is I"
because "is" is a linking verb and needs a nominative pronoun like "I" after it.
As soon as this bit of fourth grade petulance was over, I laughed, and so did Beau.
"Frank tomorrow I want to deliver the scarves to that inmate's kids. I also want to add some other items to help the family. Will you help me do some shopping tomorrow before we head back to school."
"Absolutely. I did not talk with the inmate, but I was impressed with what they were doing. I want to add something from me also. You have the name and the address don't you?"
"Absolutely. While you were concentrating on getting out of Hampden, Lt. Hughes gave me the two scarves, and the names of his children, and also the name and address of this wife. The children are eight and ten. I will be happy to have you help me play Santa. I really did get quite a good feeling talking with the inmate whose name is Daniel Myers. He has two children. April is eight, and Dan is ten. His wife's name is Margaret, and she goes by Margie. Lieutenant Hughes even was able to give me her phone number from Myers' phone authorization list."
Beau paused here, and I nodded my understanding of what he had been telling me.
"I am going to call her and see if there is a time we can deliver the scarves, and some additional gifts that I am going to buy so that Santa can really give these children one great Christmas."
I looked at Beau with renewed appreciation for his real concern for others.
"Well Beau, I want to help also, and I will be sure that Santa's concern for this family does not only happen for one year."
Beau looked at me, and smiling slapped me on my back. "You know if you keep surprising me with actions like that you are likely to get put a crimp in what we in the South know is the predilection of Yankees to be selfish and cruel to the lower classes."
I stared at Beau. Could it really be that Southerners really thought we were that uncharitable and unfeeling? Immediately I knew the answer. Of course they could, just like Beau assured me that Yankee's opinion of all Southern slave owners as cruel and keeping naked slaves under the lash and in pens worse than any farm animal would be kept in. I knew Yankees were not as bad as Beau had thought we were. Could I be wrong about the condition of their involuntary servants? Well enough of that for now. Beau and I now had to face Christmas shoppers. We went down for breakfast.
When we arrived at breakfast I outlined our plans for Saturday to my Mother and oldest sister. I thought both Beau and I needed a little help in picking out presents. I was almost one hundred percent sure that my Mother would really be into the plan.
"Boys!" she exclaimed. "I am just thrilled that you thought of this plan! You bet we will help.
In fact, if you would like, I will go shopping with you. ( I thought to myself that going shopping was more a treat for Mother than a burden, but that thought was not truly accurate. She did love shopping, but I also knew that she would be totally in favor of Beau's plan.) "All these plans were Beau's ideas." I explained. "He saw the children's Father at Hampden knitting scarves for veterans, went over to talk with him, and discovered that he had been given permission to knit two scarves for his children." I momentarily again thought how completely the life of an inmate is controlled. He had to get permission to knit those scarves for his own children. Beau said that he was going to call to find a time to take presents over when the children would not know what was happening.
"Well, you make the call, but when you open the subject of presents, you give the phone to me.
His wife and I will take care of the shopping list." my Mother said firmly. I think I could detect real happiness in the thought of helping the family as well as her absolute joy in shopping.
Leaving the dining room, Beau and my Mother went into the kitchen to make the call. After several minutes they returned with both showing real excitement.
"It's all set up!" my Mother said. The children already have a Christmas pageant practice scheduled for later this afternoon and so Beau and I will be ready to be Santa's helpers during that time. With that, plans were made to brave the holiday shoppers for our Santa's helper shopping.
I will not bore you with the tale of the sopping; however, it was indeed a blessing that my Mother came with us and directed the shopping. Almost nothing that eventually was purchased for the two children would have been what Beau and I would have chosen. Beau did insist on a couple of items of his choice – bicycles for each child. He arranged for the bicycles to be delivered Christmas Eve.
When we got to the Myers' home we saw a home that showed the need of some maintenance.
Beau's comment, "There is a need of a man around this property."
We knocked at the door and a neatly dressed women, probably 5'10" answered the door. She was wearing clean but clearly not new slacks and a blouse.
"Welcome all of you!" she said. She seemed a bit flustered... perhaps nervous.
My Mother immediately showed her years of experience in visiting people.
"Mrs. Myers, we are delighted to meet you. Thank you for allowing us to help out, and Beau really wants to deliver the scarves your husband knitted for his two children."
At this time Beau produced the two scarves, and Mrs. Myers smiled and then began crying.
"Thank you so much for bringing these to us. Dan told me he had knitted them, and had written their names in them with a needle and thread." As she was saying this she was examining the two scarves, and then her face brightened. "There they are. Personalized for each of them! I just am overwhelmed. THANK YOU THANK YOU." At this point she began crying and again my Mother came to the rescue.
"Let me help make some tea. I always think a cup of hot tea always makes me feel better, and I hope it will do the trick for you too."
As the two disappeared into the kitchen, Beau and I went back to the car, and brought all the other items in from the car, and Beau brought pictures of the two bikes to show Mrs. Myers what would be delivered.
About then my Mother and Mrs. Myers appeared. I noticed my Mother seemed angry. I wondered what Mrs. Myers could have said that would have changed her cherry happiness and helping with this Christmas project into what I recognized as real anger... shown with her normal gentility, but showing real anger to those who know her.
"Boys, I see that you have brought the other presents into the house. Follow Margie (I assumed that over tea, Margaret had become Margie to my Mother.) to where she has planned to hide the presents."
When we returned, my Mother again hugged Mrs. Myers, and then hurried us out of the house.
I was totally mystified by this behavior. I had expected to have to pry her away from her Thanksgiving-Christmas good deed.
When we got into the car, she exploded.
"Drive back to the house. I have to speak to your Father." she said with anger in her voice.
I was trying to decide whether to ask what the problem was when my Mother exploded.
"Margie is a CPA, and with her husband in prison somehow that has made it difficult for her to obtain a job. She was `reduced' from the firm she had worked at for seven years when her husband's conviction was in the paper. She has taken sales clerk and other jobs just to keep food on the table. Well, she decided to try again for an accountant's job since some time had transpired, and was in the final interview with the Waterman Corporation." This information caused me to really begin paying attention.
The Waterman Corporation was one of the companies in which I had interned as it was a company in which we had a substantial interest. I think we actually were the majority owner of stock in the company, although, as we normally did, the shares were parceled out to several holding and investment firms...all of which we owned though not directly... so that we could keep our position quiet. It was a part of my family's desire not to allow our substantial wealth to become common knowledge. We actually allowed for clear family ownership of only a few businesses to be known which validated our substantial home and lifestyle, but our total holdings were like an iceberg...more was hidden than seen.
"The head of the accounting department told Margie that it was corporate policy, not his, but direct from the owners, not to hire any relative in these types of financial positions who had a near relative in prison. He expressed regret but said his hands were tied. I plan to have a chat with your Father as soon as we arrive home at this policy."
For the remainder of the trip home she just sat and stared. Beau and I each decided that silence was the best policy for us also. When we arrived home, my Mather was out of the car, and into the house before Beau and I could really get ourselves out and inside ourselves.
The outcome of this situation was that my Father was able to prove that he had never instituted such a policy and proved that his assertion was true to my Mother's satisfaction. However, when Beau and I were back at Williams after Thanksgiving the head of the accounting department resigned to take another unspecified position, and the new head called and hired Mrs. Myers.
I later discovered that the former head of the accounting department was now employed in another of the firms we controlled, but as AN accountant, and was eventually made to report to volunteer teaching accounting in a local prison – Hampden Correctional Center – and that it was clear that if he wished to continue to be employed that his students should be able to find jobs upon release or else he would be released also. I was satisfied with the poetic justice.
Beau and I had a long talk about northern justice on our trip back to Williams. I admitted that no longer was I so positive that the criminal justice system of the North was absolutely superior to the rest of the country's use on involuntary servants.
I will not bore you with every event of the rest of our freshman year at Williams. Beau and I were friends for life, I was sure of that. Our experiences as roommates at Williams, and certainly on our educational experiences at Enfield and Hampden was a life-long bond.
At the end of the Freshman year, Beau tried to get me to come south to Tennessee, but my Father continued to have me occupied in internships "to learn the business" and so I was never able to take him up on the offer that year or any summer for our years at Williams.
When Beau came back to Williams at the beginning of the sophomore year he and his Father had reassessed the advisability of Beau's joining a fraternity. He did join that year. He continued to come home with me every Thanksgiving, and continued to charm my family completely.
After four years, Beau graduated Magna Cum Laude, Phi Beta Kappa, and President of the Student Senate. I was a loyal member of the class, also Magna Cum Laude, and Phi Beta Kappa but, following family tradition, not active in student government. I just basked in my friendship with one of the most illustrious members of my class at Williams. I did tell my Father that as Beau continued telling me that he had visited our prisons, and I had not reciprocated, and my Father agreed that in the summer following graduation I could visit Beau on his family's farm (read plantation ) and obtain some first-hand knowledge of what involuntary servitude was like.
I even had extracted from my Father... and I suspect mostly because of how much he liked Beau... That I could spend as much time as I wanted with Beau, and I was released from my summer employment and learning obligation to the family.
More chapters to come about Frank traveling South and learn the truth about the lives of the involuntary servitude method of serving a sentence for committing a crime.
I appreciate your feedback for my stories. Some authors are stronger in their confidence than I am, and do not need or desire knowing someone was reading their work. I do. I hope you continue to read and enjoy. daw