Interview with a Convict

The story although mostly fiction came in part from a conversation with an ex-con. Nice bloke, didn't really fit the stereotype of a criminal. One thing led to another and this story was born. The article goes deeper into the thought process, the reasons, and conclusions. Only, recently I started pulling out my stories and life events for edit. Enjoy.

Interview with a Con

Time. Another four letter word. Good or evil. A curse or a gift. It can be anything, like most four letter words. Infinity of duration and distance. As solid as an idea; possible to conceive yet impossible to hold.

Those of us on the inside know there's a difference between doing time and letting time do us. Squares might not understand, but we do, because we watch those around us get done. I have been on the yard, more in than out, for nearly three decades. Time is my nemesis, my oppressor. It is the frigid bitch who governs my existence. I wait for her. For time. For release.

I am a forty-two-year-old white man who has spent twenty of the last twenty-five calendars under the gun. In six trips. After seven in for my most recent bid, I have two years and five months if I don't lose any more "good time."

I have an escape and six violent beefs: armed robbery, armed burglary and armed assault. No matter what I've done, I have always been aware of the consequences of my actions and willing to accept them. While some plead guilty, I have always preferred to take my chances with a jury; even if it meant losing more time. I have done all of my time on the yard, standing up: as a jailhouse lawyer, a convict, a man. I have college degrees and knife scars. I have seen them come and go and come back again.

One thing we all know about prison is that it's a small community. If a con returns to prison, we know about it. Some of them don't come back, and we can only hope it's because they've caught a life-bit on the other side of the wall.

Do you ever wonder what it is that keeps some of us out and makes the rest of us come back? I do, and that's why I'm writing this.

Origins

An ancient Chinese warrior/philosopher once wrote that "to know thy enemy is to know thyself." Recognizing the enemy is hard, especially because so often the enemy is you. You may raise your fists against time, or love or society or something else, but it is only because we fight ourselves that we waste our energy. Because when you stop and turn that energy inside, you become strong.

Several years ago, a Wisconsin judge, Dennis A. Challeen, had a long-time friendship with an ex-con cut short by an auto accident. As a result of their friendship, Judge Challeen was inspired to write Making It Right, a book about adopting criminal justice models based on restitution rather than retribution. In his book, the judge identified three basic types of criminals: Slicks, Slobs and NORPs (Normal, Ordinarily Responsible People).

Slicks are the dandies, the hustlers, who seem to glide through the system, gaining the most and suffering the least. Con-men. Movers and shakers. Slobs pass through the system as best they can on the scraps; they are the petty opportunists, many of whom are imprisoned for some substance-induced idiocy, like passing out during a burglary. NORPs are regular Joes who made a mistake. To the judge's list I would add Fiends and Predators. Fiends are those whose lives revolve around the use and abuse of mind-altering substances; predators are those whose lives revolve around victimizing others, often sexually, but sometimes not.

The German psychiatrist Carl Jung wrote about the "puer aeternus," an archetype of eternal youth. More commonly called the Peter Pan Syndrome, it is a behavior frequently seen among criminals. In my almost three decades in prison, I have seen a lot of Peter Pans. Criminals with the Peter Pan syndrome experience a childish thrill by committing crimes and always, almost instinctively, deny responsibility for their actions. They believe in the "big score," which lures them like shiny, wrapped Christmas presents under the tree. Some psychologists say that if you want to determine a criminal's mental age, just add the number of years spent chasing bags on the street to the number of years spent behind bars, then subtract that figure from the chronological age. In essence, American's prisons are filled with children.

Over twenty years ago, two psychiatrists named Yochelson and Samenow collaborated on a two-volume series entitled The Criminal Personality. Much of what they have to say is valid, I believe, but more importantly, so do the people who control our lives. Wardens, prison psychologists, probation officers and social works regard The Criminal Personality as gospel and guidebook by when it comes to dealing with us. According to Yochelson and Samenow, criminality and other behavioral problems are rooted in the disappearance of "rites of passage" rituals in contemporary society, rituals that traditionally paved the way from adolescence to adulthood. In other words, Peter Pan never grows up because he never had a big party.

The good doctors also discovered some common beliefs among criminals: that the world owes them a living and that they don't need to work or sacrifice for what they want. Criminals typically have little regard for the personal and property rights of others; and you can be sure that their situation is everyone else's fault but their own. Another well-known symptom of Peter Pan-demonium is an inability to make and keep commitments.

On the yard, you often hear prisoners talk about the respect they feel to be their due, and they will not hesitate to resort to violence at the first sign of disrespect. I've seen men die over this. Yet somehow, these same cons don't seem to grasp that respect is something you earn. It's not something the world just owes you, like courtesy, which should be shown by everyone, to everyone.

In prison, gaining respect is often confused with instilling fear; making someone afraid of you to keep him out of your way or give you the things you want. It usually has more to do with a lack of self-esteem than strength of character. And a hyper-sensitivity to being disrespected reveals a lack of self-confidence.

Because we are afraid of being dissed, of failing, of betrayal and of a million other things, we let ourselves live in a mental world where our actions have no real consequences, where everything is ours for the taking. A world where we can fly. A world where we take short-cuts to get what we want, whether the short-cut is through violence, theft or plain old manipulation. We're experts at this, always after the jackpot, just like Peter Pan and his never; ending pursuit of the pirate's treasure.

The Costs of Criminality

But what many Peter Pan's don't realize is that there are costs to staying children. Like I said before, the substances we abuse, the years we spend behind bars, the jobs we lose and the relationships we destroy stunt our emotional growth even though our muscles bulge from working out on the iron pile. As a result of all these dead ends, I believe that most prisoners never mature beyond using four basic emotions: fear, anger, hate and self-pity. These are man's most base emotions, the ones that come most naturally.

Fear is a survival response, a defense mechanism. Anger and hate come from the same place. Emotions other than these we consider soft, because they require trusting other people.

Soft emotions open you up to loss and pain, whereas hard emotions keep you safe. Soft emotions require acceptance and reciprocation from others; hard emotions keep you isolated or get you into trouble. Soft emotions create fear, and leave us vulnerable to disappointment. But since we can handle neither fear nor disappointment, we revert to anger, or a self-hate that is so great it leaves us paralyzed with self-pity, or numbed by alcohol and drugs.

On the street or in the joint, where soft equals weak, there are good reasons to deny emotions such as love, tenderness, sympathy, vulnerability or intimacy. Anger creates situations we're comfortable with, because we always know what to expect. Where we live, anger usually wins.

Unlike fear, anger and hate, self-pity is a total waste of energy. Whatever energy it spares turns inward and usually develops into medical problems like ulcers. But without it, you'd be as lost as Peter Pan without his wings.

Love and the Criminal

And then there's love, the most extreme of the soft emotions, and the one for which we are the least equipped. With the exception of some sociopaths, it is human nature to yearn for love; either from an individual or from a community; to soften the separateness we all feel in the world. Our desire for love can be seen in the repeated attempts we make toward connecting with a significant other; or to be part of a gang.

But to seek love is to invite rejection. To win love is to court betrayal. The reverse is also true. In order to express love, you must be able to be intimate. True intimacy is the sharing of self; the more intimate, the greater the depth of self revealed. But self and image are at odds. Image is a mask, but the true self is a whole being with fears and weaknesses. For those of us whose culture and lifestyle are such that kindness equals weakness and weakness equals victimization, there is little incentive to seek out intimacy. As a result, the true self remains buried a casualty to image.

Much of what is labeled as "love" by prisoners is actually expressed as possession, ownership, domination and profit. Love is an interest rather than a commitment; transient, rather than permanent. We can see this in our attitudes, belief and biases about women. How many men do you know who refer to women as "broads," "bitches," "cunts" and so on? In the street, women are tools of the trade of criminality: they are our runners, messengers, mules or prostitutes. They may be "home bases," providing an office, home or crash pad. When and if married, the marriage is typically more of a convenience than a committed relationship. Such a lifestyle devalues women as chattel and material; seeing them only as useful makes then less than human. As the level of criminality increases, so too does the misogynistic treatment of women.

For men in prison, women are viewed as potential conquests, sexual receptacles and suppliers of goods and services. That's why visiting day, for some prisoners, is often more of an obligation than a joy. The visiting room on a Saturday looks like an Overeaters' Anonymous meeting. Prisoners often seek fat, ugly women because they are more susceptible to the flowery words that flow from the pens' pens. These women are more likely to be alone and lonely, to have low self-esteem, which is easily capitalized on by players in the joint. To the prisoner, a woman is little more than a business proposition, of use only so long as she is profitable. Time spent on her is an investment that is expected to pay off.

Try listening to a telephone call from a guy on the inside to a woman in the free world and you'll see what I mean. He sounds as if he's talking to a recalcitrant employee rather than a loved one. For every prisoner saying "I love you," there are ten others asking: "Did you get a hold of . . .?"; "Did you take care of . . .?"; "Did you bring . . .?"

Women are generally considered the weak links among the criminal element. It is presumed they will turn informant, especially if they have children. So how can a criminal love or respect someone who is destined to betray him?

Because of loneliness. Alone-ness. While being alone is part of the human condition, our loneliness is often the direct result of our aloofness, our separation from and mistreatment of others. It's generally a matter of choice and considered an achievement by the criminal type. It completes the image of the outlaw, the loner, the heartbreaker, the resourceful pioneer who prevails against the odds with no help from anyone.

But, as those of us in prison know, no matter how lonely you might get, you are never really alone. In many prisons, the population is housed in multiple-man cells and there are usually at least two people to a cell. Even in single cells there is someone in the cell next door, across the way, down the tier. This is even true in the hole and in control units, where verbal and nonverbal communication flows no matter how the guards try to stop it. Since it's rare that we ever get to be alone, suddenly being so makes us uncomfortable or, even, afraid.

The Purpose of Life

I once asked a man I respect what he thought the purpose of life was. Life, he said, is a process of acquiring credentials, and there are many ways to do this; by traveling, studying, soldiering, parenting. Even being incarcerated can be a way to gain credentials. Look at Ed Burke, Merle Haggard, Danny Martin, Nelson Mandela, and Martin Luther King, Jr. It's about turning liabilities into assets, like they teach you at those Og Mandino and Dale Carnegie seminars.

Education is the most important credential of all, and each of us should acquire every bit of education we can while we languor in these Concrete Mamas. Learning forces us to use our brains; it makes time pass more quickly and gives us a glimpse of life in mainstream society. Whether or not we ever become part of polite society, it is important that we blend in. Unless, and until, we learn how to do what they do, we will be destined to stick out. Like sore thumbs. Like targets. Like ex-cons.

Part of what "normal" people do is talk to each another. Not just about war stories and great capers, but about thoughts and ideas, about what they feel, think and believe. So on the inside, you can start by finding someone intelligent to talk to, someone who has earned your respect and who can recognize your bullshit. I realize it's not easy to open up like this, let alone find someone we can trust that deeply in prison. But it is a gift we should give to ourselves, and a gift we should learn to give to others.

Three Faces of Man

There is a philosophy that says there are three faces of man: private, intimate and public. Each face is a different persona we present to the world depending on the situation.

The private face is the one we display only to the man in the mirror. It consists of our spirit, our codes, philosophies and beliefs, our loves, hates, desires and fears. It is information and history, the core of our being, and the source of many of the problems we create for ourselves. The intimate face is the one we display to those who are closest to us. The public face is what we display to anyone and everyone. Our public faces may be the complete opposite of our private or faces, and sometimes for very good reason. It's easy to see that when we get any of these faces confused, we open ourselves up to problems.

These are the kinds of things we need to sort out if we want to stay out of prison. We have all seen countless men return to prison for the same thing every time; the particulars may differ, but the actions and reactions rarely change. I can usually tell a convict I just met why and how he returned to prison. Amazing to him, like some parlor trick, but it's a sad, simple story with which I am only; and personally; too familiar.

A Criminal Set Free

When the prison gate opens, most of us go on the prowl and hook up with a woman too soon and for all of the wrong reasons. We find a woman who falls for us quickly and we move right in because she has everything we need. The four Ps: pots, pans, Plymouth and pussy. When we first get out we're still in prison mode, trying to experience all we missed as quickly as possible. But then the woman who fell in love with us soon after we hit the bricks wakes up and decides she may not be in a relationship with someone she really trusts or cares about or who's worth the trouble. Suddenly, there are problems in the relationship; precisely the sort of garbage we're not equipped to handle because we've become institutionalized Peter Pan's who feel safe only when we're left alone. Add to this all the hate and bitterness we've acquired through our years in prison, throw in a dash of freedom-euphoria driven by substance abuse, over-exhaustion and stress, and you've got an itchy ex-con on your hands.

Some us will strike out and hit her to shut her up. But most of us will just intone the convict anthem; Fuck It! and head for the hills. We'll end up at a bar or the dope house, where we'll hear about an opportunity with risks we wouldn't normally consider worth our time, and we'll go along with it. All the way back to jail. Or some citizen will get in our face and unwittingly invite the Wrath of Con. And our ass will be back in the slammer.

There's only one way to avoid this trap. When we get out, we got to get a place of our own and live that way, with just a hobby and a pet for company. Keep a black book full of numbers to call when you want to get laid, but always be ready with the excuse that you have to go home to feed the dog. And then do it. Go home. Alone.

We need to embrace the idea of being alone and yet not cut ourselves off from the rest of humanity. We've faced and survived; riots, police, predators, injuries and prison. If we can stand up to these things, then why run from ourselves, which is exactly what we do when we run from being alone. Now is the time to adopt the way of the warrior by embracing the enemy and turning him into your greatest ally.

One more thing: I mentioned before that most of us are adrenaline junkies. We need to find a way to replace the rush that leads us back to the joint. Ideally, such a replacement would also provide a means to rid ourselves of some of the anger and hate and bitterness we held in check while inside. Unless, and until, we experience some catharsis, we are ticking bombs.

I'm not here to tell you to go straight or join the rat race. But I will tell you this: If you want to stay out, that must become the number one priority of your life. That may sound simple, but it will be the most difficult thing you can do. It's the priority against which all other decisions must be weighed.

I've made my choice, and I'm looking forward to a couple of P's myself: a parrot, a puppy and place of my own to store my little black book. I hope it works. Maybe someday I'll be able to announce that it did. Just don't expect to visit.