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On Saturday June 30, 2001,
as dark blue and gray clouds rolled by and lightening flashed
on the horizon, my band The Put-Downs played one of the weirdest
outdoor shows in our brief and modest history. It all began the third
week of May, when I was contacted by a guy named J.D. about playing
a show. We pretty much play anywhere and everywhere anyone wants
us to play as long as we can afford it, so I said, "Sure.
When and where?" His response? "The minimum security
federal prison." O.K...I was wondering
who the hell it was I was talking to, or if I didn't know them
who put them up to it- like a seriously anti-professional band
like The Put-Downs would ever be let inside a prison for any
reason other than incarceration. But hey, I like to act like
a professional, so I respond as though prisons call us and ask
us to play all the time. "Can you send me some information
about the performance?" I asked. I probably didn't say "performance"
but I was trying to sound sincere. He said it would be sent soon
and I hung up thinking, "What the hell?" The next week we left
for a 14 show, 3 week tour up the West Coast which, in addition
to some rocking shows, was highlighted by a 2 day drive through
the redwoods in Northern California, and seeing Barry Bond's
30th home run for the San Francisco Giants. When we returned
I checked my mail for the big "prison letter." It was
not there. I told the brothers, Mike (drums) and Scott (bass)
Dempsey, that it must have been a hoax after all. There was a
number for the federal prison on my caller ID but when I called
no one ever answered. We figured that it was a prank pulled by
some really bored inmate who'd heard of our band somewhere. The night of Tuesday June
26 I came home to find a note from my roommate on my door. It
read along these lines... "J.D. called from the federal
prison(?!?) asking for confirmation about a show June 30??? He
says y'all need to call him with your birth dates and SS numbers
for background checks..." I thought, "Get outta here!
Are we really going to play at a prison?" It reminded me
of the time Jason Arson from Thorazine magazine called
me and asked if my band at the time, The Motards, wanted to play
some shows in Japan. We laughed about that until he sent us our
plane tickets. That Saturday morning
around 9:30 Mike Chatanier, Director of Recreation at our local
minimum security federal prison, called me up to provide last
minute details... directions to the prison, number of mikes we
needed, would we like to eat with the prisoners, and things like
that. He laughed, "We've been trying to get a rock band
in here for about 4 years, but y'all are the first group where
everyone passed the background check." (J.D.and the other
inmates on the entertainment committee teased us about this too,
to which we replied, "Hey, we've just never been caught!")
I was in a state of shock that continued until we passed through
the last security checkpoint and were let into the prison. Our
only possible problem was the weather. Since it was an outdoor
show we were threatened by the looming severe thunderstorms.
Fortunately they passed right on by, though close enough to provide
a " foreboding of evil"-type backdrop for the occasion.
However, there was no evil present for the show. In fact, it
was fairly mundane except for the tons of razor wire piled on
and around the tall fences that enclosed the yard. And except
for the number of people in attendance; probably a hundred or
so sat in chairs in front of our stage, a few hundred stood on
the periphery, and hundreds more were playing basketball, handball,
and soccer in the surrounding areas, all of whom seemed oblivious
to our presence until each song ended and they began shouting
"Rock and roll! Rock and roll!" There were over a thousand
inmates in the yard at the time. The only setback, besides
me breaking two strings that were less than an hour old (which
isn't really a problem but a normal occurrence at a Put-Downs'
show), was that we had a few short interruptions due to power
outages. These were in fact found to be due to sabotage on the
part of some of the inmates who were unhappy that we weren't
a rap act. I said if someone could flow, bring it on up and we'd
play behind them. The guys up front, though, said "No way!"
and sent a group over to keep an eye on the extension cords. Overall, it was a very memorable experience. We met some nice guys who we won't see anytime soon because they were serving between 5 and 12 years in prison. All were convicted of non-violent federal crimes; most of course, for drugs. Several we talked to had been busted for operating meth labs. We ate with them in the cafeteria and they said we were lucky since it was fajita dinner day. I didn't feel so lucky when I saw that some of my pieces of steak were oily-blue. (Maybe it was chemically treated?) The beans and rice weren't too bad if not totally bland. J.D. and the others on the entertainment committee hung out with us for the few hours we were there and I got the feeling it was a very welcome diversion from their daily routines. Although for a prison theirs was very bearable, it made me think of the many things in life we take for granted- like having the least bit of say in what you'll do on any given day, which I guess they got to experience that day if only for a few hours. Paul J. 7/27/01 |
