Asylum Earth. Charles Bragg
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tell me I was turning kind of blue when Big Boy Dorkin noticed I was in trouble. Well Dorkin is two-hundred-and-sixty pounds of dangerous and hostile muscles, and he put a Heimlich maneuver on me that hurled a piece of meatloaf across the room that knocked a guard unconscious. He also broke three of my ribs-but fuck, I'm alive! And I owe my life to that big slob. Big Boy is in here for stealing food stamps. Hasn't got a dime to his name, but I make sure he's treated just as good as any millionaire in this joint. On the other hand, Ivan Boesky, who was sitting across the table from me, just sat there like it was a fucking corporate takeover and watched me change colors. Didn't lift a fucking finger to help me. I made sure his last few months here were real memorable, I can assure you. So you see, I treat everyone the same-rich or poor, especially if they have saved my life."
"Just how do you make things especially memorable for someone here, Warden Coots?"
"Well, first off, no TV! Ever see the look on the face of a Rhodes scholar-millionaire-embezzler when you tell him his TV privileges are revoked? They lay in their cells and whimper like sick dogs. I'm talking about guys with 132 IQs. They miss three episodes of Days of Our Lives, and you never have any more trouble with them ever again.
"A while back, I had an attitude problem with 'The Honorable' Julius K. Felder- remember him? The mayor of Youngstown, Ohio. Ran a sports book from his office in City Hall. I had him pulling weeds in the yard all day on Super Bowl Sunday XXVI. Wouldn't let him watch the game. Monday Night Football was sort of a religious experience for him, so he claimed that not being allowed to watch the Super Bowl constituted 'cruel and unusual punishment.' He claimed that by missing the game, he had suffered not only mental and physical anguish, but a permanent psychological scar. Have you ever heard such bullshit? It's on appeal now, and probably will go all the way to the Supreme Court. I don't think I'll have any more problems with him though. I put him in the same cell with G. Gordon Liddy for six months.
"Also, little lessons in humility work real good too. See that guy busing the tables over there? Well, he was a big spender, a real party animal. You know, flew to Paris on the fucking Concorde, went to the Cannes Film Festival, winters in Monaco. You know, all that fancy bullshit. Threw himself a birthday party at the Waldorf Astoria for 400 of his best friends. Cost him $80,000 just for the flowers. Well, you know where that dickhead got his money? From the 'Magic Wish Foundation.' That outfit that gives kids with terminal illnesses their last wish, you know, make it come true. He was on the cover of People magazine. He just got beat out by Mother Theresa as Humanitarian of the Year in 1987. Raised millions. Guess how much he spent on the kids? Not one fucking dime! And then he prances in here on his first day like a goddam peacock-Gucci loafers, Rolex watch, Armani suit, and he looks around as if he's displeased with the accommodations. Well, within 10 minutes he was on his hands and knees scrubbing floors in the crapper. And he'll be there until he gives a pint of blood to the Red Cross every two weeks for the next year. After that he'll sort X -rays at the Children's Free Clinic in town until there's a cure for cancer."
"Make the punishment fit the crime, is that it, Warden?" Safer said. "Sounds like a story Andy Rooney could really sink his teeth into. But let's move on. Many people feel that most of the inmates are in here for the least of their crimes, and that smart lawyers always plea bargain them out of the real jams."
Coots was amused. "Well, let me just say that a good portion of our prison population is made up of 'smart' lawyers."
Morley Safer smiled, "That doesn't surprise me one bit. Clear up something else for me, Warden - sex! There have been rumors that during visiting hours there's a lot of it going on here at Allenwood behind your back. Is there any truth to that?"
"Well, let me ask you how you would handle it. I got 1,200 testosterone-burdened felons in here, and some of them are so horny they glow in the dark. So some of those rumors may be true. I let a few of them have a little Sunday picnic in the bushes now and then. If they've earned it. We got 4,000 acres here, and you can't watch everyone all the time. Besides, a little pussy from time to time never hurt anyone. It's better than having them humping each other during the week isn't it? Also, it's a perk that they don't want to lose, so it helps to make everyone easier to deal with the rest of the time. I think it might be an idea whose time has come, don't you?"
"I think you'd have a lot of resistance from conservatives and Fundamentalist Christians on that one, Warden Coots."
"Oh really! Well, we have plenty of them in here too, and I can tell you they look forward to their picnics just as much as everyone else. They disappear into the woods and come out with just as many grass stains on their chins as anybody else-maybe more. Let's face it, Mr. Safer, you can whip the old willow for just so long, and then you want a little human contact. Right?"
"Well ... " Safer paused. "Tell me more about your thoughts on this ."
"Hey, don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those bleeding hearts. You know, that 'human potential, anyone can be rehabilitated' bullshit. A rapist shouldn't get for free what he broke the law to get in the first place. No. His fucking days are definitely over.
"When someone goes to prison, all they can think of is how to get sex. I think that's why people get sent to prison. So they'll never bump their uglies again, you know what I mean? A guy robs a liquor store, kills a couple of people. The pollsters come out ... 'Should he get the death penalty?' Well, I'm undecided about that but I do know I don't want him to ever get laid again!
"Look, I'd pull the switch on a lot of these so-called members of the human race and sleep like a baby that very night. But listen, the stakes here at Allenwood are peace and tranquility versus trouble and mayhem. That's the way I run things here. Produce! Earn! Reward! Produce! Earn! Reward! Shit, man!! It's fucking capitalism! It's Darwin and the 'survival of the least humane.' What's that you say pal!? You're going to fall short!? You didn't prosper!? String his ass up!!"
It was getting late now, and Morley Safer had to get to the studio. He had a long day of heavy editing ahead of him.
After the segment on 60 Minutes was aired, Warden Coots became something of a national celebrity, which put him on equal footing with many of the inmates in Allenwood Prison. The media's general consensus on Coots' success at Allenwood was that he was a man who not only suffered fools gladly, but who got a genuine kick out of them. And there were more than enough fools at Allenwood to keep him amused.
For example, take the Garbanzo Brothers, Bruno and Vito. Identical twins, they were not unlike the Corsican Brothers - when one brother got hurt, he made sure the other brother got hurt; when something good happened to one of them, he made sure the other one found out about it. They were in Salt Lake City in the FBI's witness protection program. Four Brooklyn Mafia Dons were doing hard time because of their testimony. Common sense would presumably assure that they would keep a low profile. No one had ever accused the Garbanzos of having common sense.
Now anyone who has been there knows, Salt Lake City is probably the worst town in America to open a topless bar in. A town so uptight you have to belong to a private club to order ketchup, and laughing out loud is a felony. To call the club "The Tush and Bush" and distribute graphic handbills at town hall meetings was something only the Garbanzo twins could have come up with.
They began to dabble in soft-core pornography on weekends and were busted with their movie, Mormon Hormones, only half completed.
The cops that made the arrest and the prosecutor who tried the case didn't know identical twins were involved so only one Garbanzo brother was tried and convicted.
The brothers very honorably alternated doing time at Allenwood. Bruno would serve six weeks and then on visiting day, when the opportunity presented itself, he would switch places with Vito. Warden Coots was probably aware of all this, but as long as one or the other brother was doing the time why make a big deal out of it?
Coots took a personal interest in greeting his newest guest.
There he was, Charles Keating, America's number one champion for a return to