Black August Page #3

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Why, I heard a strangled yell

and looked toward the corridor...

...and I seen the officer being assaulted.

He was being held down by one cat and

he was being attacked by the other two.

After Jackson had him in a headlock...

...Drumgo and Clutchette

were stabbing him.

I could see the officer's body trembling.

Finally it seemed like it just went limp.

Jackson lifted him up

and slid him over the third tier.

I seen him fall.

Yeah, motherf***er.

So it was the reading of Lenin,

Che Guevara and Marx.

- This is what inspired you to start writing.

- You know, I discovered those comrades...

...later on.

What really started me writing was

I just wanted to beef with my father.

I wanted him to know what's really

going on with blacks in this country.

I feel I'm an example

to my brother and my father, you know?

I think if I can hold my head up

in a place like this...

...then they can hold their head up

outside.

You can't let anybody here think

they own you.

You ever stole anything?

- I'm sorry?

- Have you ever stole anything?

No, not in my adult life, no.

But when you was young.

Yeah, I guarantee you'd be bored

by my stories of juvenile delinquency.

- I, you know...

- No, I'm curious.

Okay.

When I was a kid, I used to shoplift.

I'd go into dime stores with these pants

that had the pockets cut out.

You know, and I'd just pour stuff in.

And then I'd walk out of there

like I owned the place.

- You ever get caught?

- Yeah, once.

This friend and I, in junior high school,

we started to get a little more brave.

So we started selling these black

market cigarettes out of our lockers.

And the principal came around,

did a locker search with the master key.

And, yeah, that was it.

Dime stores

to big time operation, huh?

Right. Well, I know, you might say

I have a hard time doing things half way.

Yeah, I'm with you on that.

- Not always a blessing is it?

- No.

How'd you get this job, man?

We should talk about something else.

We don't have that much time.

Seems to me, we do.

Yeah, okay.

Well, my first job was writing ad copy

for book jackets.

And then I just moved up from there.

So you were what they call

a blurb writer, huh?

"She was all fire, all passion.

Finally she met her match in Black Bart. "

Stuff like that, huh?

Yeah, you know,

I'm starting to think maybe you're right.

We really should trade places.

If you wrote a blurb for my book,

what would it be?

"He was... "

"He was full of rage. Men feared him.

Women found him irresistible.

Not even steel and cement could contain

his vengeful fury. " Something like that?

Okay, seriously, I can get you a job.

How'd you get this?

The guy who hired me

was a Harvard man too.

We knew each other

from a long time ago.

Harvard, huh?

Old boy network.

They got it all locked up tight.

- They got any blacks where you work at?

- Yeah, mail boy. A female secretary.

Mail boy.

Even if he was older than me,

you'd still call him a boy probably, huh?

Ain't no chance for you

unless you one of them, right?

Time's up.

Thanks for being more relaxed this time.

Most of these letters

are to my mother and my father...

...and my little brother Jonathan.

I never sent them.

I don't know why, I just...

Sometimes you get a letter in an envelope

and you don't send it, you know?

So you're a Harvard man, huh?

How'd you know?

You said so yesterday.

Then we spent too much time

talking about me yesterday.

What was it like there at Harvard?

I hated it. I'm so glad it's over.

But you met all those people.

They gave you a job, those friends.

Yeah, I met one friend.

So, what, you interested in enrolling?

Well...

...I already graduated

from San Quentin High.

It's one of those things they said

would get me out in a year.

There's a show at the movies Saturday.

Some of the brothers been watching you.

You got potential.

- A lot of wasted energy, though.

- What do you care?

We need brothers who can maintain their

self-respect in here, have true strength.

I'm asking you to come

have a talk with us tomorrow.

We stay true like a family should,

stay organized, work an agenda.

What can we accomplish

when we get outside?

- A piece of the pie.

- Bullshit.

Have you ever, no matter how hard

you worked, how law abiding you were...

...how much you cared

about this country...

...been offered a piece of that

which you earned?

Has your father? His before that?

A piece of white America's pie.

We don't wanna be Bill f***ing Cosby.

We wanna be the vanguard

of something better, Comrade George.

A place where all that fire in you

could be put to some constructive use.

A state where each man is given the honor

and the duty to sacrifice for civilization.

Can you dig that?

Good.

Because this world needs you.

I know you got some good books already,

we've got some more for you.

Keep reading. Keep writing.

These were written around the same

time I took my education to a new level.

Fay told me by that point

you'd done several years more...

...than the average inmate

on a year-to-life sentence.

Can we talk about that?

I never completely understood it.

One-year-to-life, man.

It makes perfect sense.

All you have to do is surrender your will

and they'll let you out in 12 months.

One-year-to-life,

dangling the possibility of parole...

...it keeps convicts down.

Keeps a convict

from judging his captors...

...from criticizing his methods.

But the sentence is at minimum,

Right?

Clean time did nothing for me, man.

They can tell when you only pretend

to surrender, you know?

It is hard to hide one's pride

and individuality.

At least it was for me.

You think your parole is denied

because of your efforts...

...organizing black prisoners.

- Of course.

No one has done more time than me

in this state on a-year-to-life.

I'm a political prisoner.

They're afraid

I'll take that revolution to the streets.

I'd like to visit your mother

and get a few more letters if I could.

I've already been trading messages

with her through the defense committee.

All right.

You gonna see my brother Jonathan?

There's a chance he'll be there

and maybe Angela as well.

Well...

:::you::::

- You send my love to Angela, would you?

- Yeah, sure.

All right.

When you speak to Jonathan,

don't mention his age.

- Why not?

- Well, he is just a youngster.

But he's only 16 and he's sensitive about

being it because he feels older, you know?

Any advice for meeting

with your mother?

Man, my mother is a trip.

She'd been happy to have me locked up

from the womb to the tomb.

I wasn't allowed to go outside

and play until I was 6 years old.

Then she sent me to Catholic school.

Dress me up in that silly-ass uniform

and string metals around my neck.

When I would protest,

she'd get my father on me.

He'd beat me

with anything he could find.

A table leg, belts. You name it.

I think they were just terrified of me

harming the family name, you know?

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