Subways Are For...

Greg was a very neat, small man. He was immaculately groomed. I don't know how he managed to iron his clothes but his pants always had a knife crease and his shirt were perfectly pressed. Since there are no such services in jail and residents don't have closets, he was unique.

"I am an expert on the New York subways system. I have always lived for the subways since I was a young child. I read everything that was ever printed about them. I know the history of every line. I can tell you when it was built, how it was built, and why it was built. I can tell you the architect, the engineer, and the company that built the cars. I would rather talk about the subways than anything else in the world. Even when I am home, I would rather read about the subway than make love to my wife. Would you say that I was obsessed by subways?

All I wanted to do when I grew up was to work as a subway conductor. I am an expert. I have even written a book about the subway and it is published. You can buy it in stores. I have the best collection of memorabilia in the country. I spent all my money buying information about the New York subway. There are somethings that are not for sale. Unfortunately, I felt that I had to have them anyway. That is why I am in jail."

Greg is still in jail because the district attorney is trying to make a case for grand larceny. By law there must be a law library in every jail to help residents look for ways to help themselves and their public defenders. I asked Grey if there was any precident for materials stolen from non-circulating libraries. Surely this is not the first incident of stolen books and I wonder how many people had been jailed for eight months without going to trial.

Greg returned the books, refurbished them and has offered to pay restitution. So far, the district attorney had refused and apparently has decided to take the case to trial. I wonder if the expense of keeping Greg in jail for these many months and the cost of the impending trial was a good use of tax payer money.

The Street of Fashion

Sean was the Madison Avenue Bandit. They even had his picture posted on pole in areas that had expensive antique stores. They even drew a small mask around his eyes. "I hate that poster. My mother saw it and I was very embarrassed. Just because I only went to the eigth grade in school doesn't mean I don't know about fine art. I can tell a fake, a reproduction, or a damaged piece in seconds. Sometimes a piece of fine crystal has been sitting in the sun too long. If you know what you are looking for, you see that the streaks are permanent. They won't come out.

I know which marks an artist uses and I can tell if someone is trying to pass some mark as if it is real. I can tell you what date silver was made and what it's worth. I can tell an original from a copy. I know about brush strokes and pigment. I could appraise a painting for other people but I don't deal in paintings too much myself. Painting is fragile and I would never hurt a fine work of art.

I was a consultant to other people. They would ask me what I thought they could get for it. Look, we aren't talking about people who are going to sell things at Christy's or Sotheby's. The people who brought things to me wanted to know what they could expect from our client/buyers. People bring me stuff. I know who will buy it and not ask questions. I used to hang around the diamond district. People knew where to find me. They knew I was an expert just like the diamond merchants. I was in good company...the company of experts. Sure I can talk to you. I am doing my time. I am out of business."

No Credit Cards, Cash Only

"When they picked me up, I was living at the Waldorf-Astoria Tower. I always live well because no cheap place will take checks." Jeff is a very elegant, well-spoken gentleman. It is not a surprising considering that he was graduated from a first rate ivy university after attending a prestigious prep school.

"My first arrest came after a million dollar con. I can sell anything. That time I sold a manufacturing plant that hadn't been built. I spent less than two years in jail and most of that was used in trying to convince the court that I was not competent to stand trial. I can sell anything. I was the top car salesman in the company. I have had four Rolls Royces, two at the same time. I had a successful flooring company in Cleveland. I can do it legal and I can do it illegal. I do whatever comes along. Does that make me mentally incompetent? Can I use that defense again?

Don't Bother Mr, I'm Working

Lloyd asked me for some bottle caps. "I'm losing me skill by being idle in here. I run a Three-Card Monte operation on 42nd Street. Actually, I use bottle caps and hide the pea." Lloyd is too fat, too sloppy, and too silly for anyone to take him seriously. The other residents, especially the younger ones made fun of him. They thought he was slow, maybe dim-witted. He wanted to be taken for a fool. He wanted people to think he was none too bright and that he could easily be taken advantage.

After he practiced with his bottle caps for awhile, some of the other residents tried to challenge him. For several days they took all of his cigarettes. When they were sure they could beat most of the time, Lloyd suggested a few small wagers. After he had taken all their money and their commissary, he had them doing his laundry, bringing him his meals, and running little errands for him, he stopped.

One day he took me aside and said, " Don't ever come watch if you see me on the street. When I'm working, I can't watch out for you. I know you are smart enough not to play me, but my partners will pick your pockets clean. They don't know that you and I are friends. Just wink at me when you go by and let me know you remember me."

I keep a watch out for Lloyd and I know that one day I will see him and I will wink as I go by.

When I interview a Rikers resident for the first time, I have a series of questions to ask. It is mostly demographic information but it also verifies my time with the client. As I was going through the initial questionnaire, I asked Jack why he was in jail. He said that it was because he was caught stealing. Then I asked him what he did for a living before he came to jail. He looked as if I hadn't hear him the first time. "I am a thief. Didn't you hear what I said? I am a thief and that is my profession." He said that he would never burglarize a person's home. "In all my years, I think that I only invited three people into my home. I consider it a real privilege if some one asks me into his home. I would never go into a person's home to steal anything. It would be a terrible thing to do. If your things aren't safe where you live, where are they safe. I only steal from companies. I am a pretty good thief but I have my own morale code, you know."

God's Choice

Charles may well have been gravely ill but he was always cheerful, helpful, and energetic. He spent a great deal of his time reading and writing in his journal. He talked to the other residents and occasionally spoke to me but he seems to be more concerned with his writing.

One day, he came to me and said, "I think that I figured it out. People say that they are Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, or Hindu but what does God think about it? Does anyone ever wonder whether God accepts what people say they are. I have been wondering about that. If you ask someone what religion they are, they will tell you but I wonder if God accepts them."

This was really deep and I wasn't sure how to stay in this conversation without offending Charles or saying anything stupid. His idea was interesting and I did want to know more.

"Every religion was its own set of rules and laws. If someone says they are Christian but steals from his neighbors, cheats on his wife, and doesn't live by the rules, does God accept him as a Christian? A person can call themselves anything they want but it only matters if God believes in him. If a person says they are Muslim but tortures people, kills them, and only accepts one type of Muslimisn, does God accept him as a Muslim? Maybe God rejects them even if they don't know it. You can't be some thing if the head doesn't accept you. If you say you are Jewish and don't keep the laws, are you really Jewish? You can't be in a religion if you don't obey the laws."

"God has a set of rules and laws for every religion and if you don't obey them, then maybe God doesn't accept you either. I think that it makes God angry when we do bad stuff and say that we are doing it in his name. That is when he casts us out. I believe that God loves us but he doesn't accept us when we don't obey his word.. He rejects us no matter what we call ourself.

I think God will forgive someone if he thinks about his ways and then tries to live up to the way it is supposed it be. I think that God will forgive us and take us back. People take God for granted. They think that He lives by our rules and we can do anything and still be in His church. I don't think that is true. I think you have to live by God's message. If you don't he won't keep you.

I don't know if this is true but it is what I believe." Charles went back to his journal and we never talked about this again but I have never forgotten our conversation.

Repeats

When Larry came back I recognized him right away. His short cropped blond hair, light blue eyes, and missing leg made it easy. We used crazy glue to try to patch up that fiberglass leg that kept cracking near the appliance that attaches the leg to Larry. "You were just here a few months ago. Why are you back", I asked him. "It's always the same thing, driving with a suspended license. I got 90 days again. You would think they would learn." he said."Why were you driving with a suspended license?" I asked. "I tried to get a handicap parking pass. They refused. I got thousand of dollars in parking tickets because I can't walk that far on my leg. I can't pay the tickets because I don't have that kind of money. I can't buy car insurance either so I can't get my license renewed. I am a car mechanic. After I fix a car, I have to drive it to be sure that it works right. I get picked up for driving with a suspended license and they put me in jail. It costs them a lot more to keep me in jail than if they paid off my tickets. If I could get a handicap parking pass, I wouldn't get any more tickets. Then I could make some money and buy car insurance. I would be able to fix cars and test them. My driver's license would be good. It would be cheaper for them. But no. I can't afford a lawyer to help me with the tickets. I can't afford to pay the tickets so I guess that I'll just have to come back to jail every few months. I wish they would time it better. The weather is good. I could be making money. I would rather be in jail when the winter comes and it's to cold to work outside."