CHAPTER NINETEEN - Prison

                                                        BOOK TWO

1977-1985

CHAPTER NINETEEN - Prison

This is Chapter 19 of Lanterns of Babylon. If you would like to read the story from the beginning, please click on the pink tabs above.

“Thou has ascended on high, thou has led captivity captive, thou has received gifts for men:yea, for the rebellious also, that the Lord God might dwell among them.”

Ps 68:18

Senta-Cell Block H. The drugs were easier to get in jail than on the outside. Unfortunately, Senta was beholden to certain individuals to get her those drugs. It was more of a “wash my back and I’ll wash yours” system.

A woman named Kayla was the Queen of the CellBlock. She made the rules and enforced them with an iron fist. She had the monopoly on the drug trade and whenever she was put into solitary confinement, which was often, the drugs stopped until she got out.

Today, Senta lay on her bed sweating. Two weeks before, Kayla had been caught with a screwdriver in the laundry. When the guards confiscated it, she spat and cursed at them. She kicked a third guard and broke the nose of another prisoner as they tried to subdue her. This earned Kayla time in solitary confinement.

Senta wasn’t going to make it. She needed a fix. But Kayla still had a week to go in the box. Senta feared Kayla. The big woman had beaten up other inmates. She was serving time for assault with intent to kill. The man she’d been living with lost an eye and would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. Apparently she’d crushed his knee with a baseball bat and tried to skewer him in the eye with an ice pick.  Although Senta feared her, she needed her. Or at least, she needed her drugs.

Dulcey, one of the guards, came by the cell.

“You’ve got a visitor.” That would be Paul. Stupid Paul. Why did he put up with her? Why did she put up with him? He wouldn’t bring her any drugs. All he wanted to do was talk to her about God.

“I don’t want to see him,” she told the guard. Dulcey noticed that Senta was sweating and shivering.

“Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m just great. I-I need a fix.” 

Dulcey called over to a second guard. “Watch me while I check this chick out.” It was standard procedure to have another guard present when a suspected illness was being checked out. This discouraged prisoners from faking sickness and it helped monitor most of the treatment dished out by the guards.

Senta rolled over in her bed. Her eyes glazed and she started to foam at the mouth.  Her body began to shake violently.

“She’s going into shock!” cried the guard. “Let’s get her to the med unit!”

The cold wind whirled around him, threatening to blow the wig off his head. Judd was doubling for Billy Dee Williams, whose character wore a prominent afro. Now the afro was pulling at his scalp, fighting against the wind.

Judd peeked over the railing and watched the swirling waters two hundred feet below. The Devil’s Gorge emptied into Hudson Bay. Judd hoped his body wouldn’t wash down into that large body of water. He loved Canada, but he didn’t want to become a part of it.

Mickey Yulin walked up to him and put an arm on his shoulder. “Judd, if you have any doubts, now’s the time.”

“I’m ready Mickey.”

“Okay man. I really appreciate this. It’s going to be a spectacular stunt.”

“Gag,” Judd corrected. Mickey held his hand to his ear. The wind had picked up and would soon be a gigantic, howling banshee.

“What’s that you say?”

“It’s a gag, not a stunt,” Judd said with a brave smile. 

Mickey gave him a thumbs up and trotted towards the helicopter with the camera crew. Gag. This isn’t a gag, it’s suicide. It was Judd’s idea. He was trying to top himself. Judd looked over the broad expanse before him. My pride will kill me.

When Judd had seen the bridge spanning the canyon, he knew he had to try it. He spoke to Yulin about it the first day he got there.

“Look, I know that the script calls for Billy Dee’s character to roll down a hill and into the water, but what if the police had him cornered on the Skyline Bridge over Devil’s Gorge?”

“And he jumps?!” Mickey asked incredulously. Judd nodded. Mickey didn’t look convinced. “How high is it, Judd?”

“The tourist brochure says the bridge is two hundred and twenty feet over the water. I measured it myself. It’s only two hundred and ten feet.”

“Maybe the Chamber of Commerce measured it at low tide.” Judd toed the camera stand while Mickey thought about it. The director looked out of the window of the shack where they were filming. The Skyline Bridge was about a quarter of a mile away. It looked pretty high. “I don’t think so, Judd. We really don’t need it.”

“Maybe we do. Even if this picture is a mega-hit, watching Billy Dee Williams drop two hundred feet into a freezing river could add millions to the box office.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be Billy dropping into the river.”

 Judd smiled. “Think about it Mickey. Millions.”

The offer was tempting. Mickey could see the promo in his head. “This jump will do for this film what the chase scene in “The French Connection” did for it.

“Right!” said Judd. “When people see the coming attractions and watch the bridge gag, they’ll be putting that on the “Don’t Miss” list. Everybody will be talking about this picture before it opens.”

“Judd, is this your ego talking or you head?”

“Both.”

“I’ll have to clear it with the studio. We’ll have to do some special waivers and make insurance adjustments….when can you be ready to shoot it?”

“Two weeks. I’ve got to survey the riverbed. We might need to dig some if it’s not deep enough. Do you know anyone in the Canadian Ministry of the Interior?”

“We can get permission to dig,” said Mickey. He was thinking hard. This would add to the budget, but it would be worth it. Mickey waved him off. “Do what you have to do. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

As he prepared the gag, Judd felt confident. He assembled the best stunt team and diving team available. Jerry, his assistant, developed a special padding, not unlike an air bubble-packing mat. Judd could wear it under his costume without showing a lot of bulk.

Now, as he stood over the precipice, Judd felt a shiver go up his spine. It wasn’t the freezing winds. He didn’t feel right about this. Despite having second thoughts, but it was too late to call it off now. The cameras had been set up, and sixty thousand dollars in salaries, equipment and time had already been spent for this gag. For the first time in his life, Judd felt uncertainty.

The helicopter was hovering about a hundred feet over the bridge. With the blowing wind and propellers it was hard to hear the AD as he spoke through his bullhorn.

“Alright, let’s have focus people!” Judd felt like he could see all the way to Chicago as he looked due south. The Canadian air was cold and clear. He clenched and unclenched his hands. He stomped his feet to stave off the cold. He began his mantra. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

Jerry was over to his side with a radio. If there was a change by Mickey, he would relay it to Jerry. If Jerry held up his hands, that meant abort. Cancel the gag. If Jerry pointed at him, that was his cue to jump.

It seemed to be taking hours. Judd knew that Mickey was waiting for a break in the wind. It would never die down, but every few seconds, the gusts were not as violent.

Was it possible to sweat while you’re freezing? Judd thought about it as he nervously held on to his wig. He couldn’t wear a helmet, but under the afro was extra padding for his head. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

The AD was shouting into his bullhorn. Judd could not understand him, but he did see Jerry point at him. It was a go. The gag was on.

Judd took a deep breath. He stepped up on the railing. The river looked like it was five miles down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a speck of blue on the bank below. That was Carl, the 2^nd unit cameraman, getting a view of his descent off the towering bridge. Judd tensed for a moment as he took a second breath. This was it. Then he relaxed his body. That was the first rule for such a fall. 

He was about to step out into the void. Then it happened. Just as Judd made his jump, his toe caught the edge of the railing. It turned his body at the wrong angle.

As he tumbled through the air, Judd saw the Skyline Bridge soaring away from him. Then he saw the white water of the river rushing up to meet him. He had no sense of balance or control. For a crazy instant, he thought he could see every detail of Carl’s terrified face as his body plummeted downward. Why wasn’t Carl operating the camera?

Judd never felt the impact. He was knocked out as he hit the water. He felt no cold, no wetness. He felt nothing.

The Loaves and Fishes Theatre had enjoyed a successful debut season. The Christian troupe headed up by Cory Stilling had not only entertained theatre patrons, but helped spread Christ’s message and fed many of the under privileged.

Since Ron’s death, Cory threw herself into God’s work. She paid Janie Lambert a hundred and thirty thousand dollars for the old warehouse. With the help of Ed and his carpenter friends, she converted the building into a decent show place.

The main theatre had a bill of fare that ranged from Christian plays to traditional family shows. Plays like “Harvey” and “You Can’t Take It With You” shared the stage with Christian dramas written by Paul. Cory planned on adding a Shakespeare Festival for the second season. The smaller, experimental theatre located downstairs, was used for staged theatre readings, acting classes and children’s plays.

Loaves and Fishes lived up to its reputation by feeding and clothing the hungry and homeless. Cory got Goodwill and the Southern California Samaritans involved in distribution. She laid out a blue print of surrounding Loaves and Fishes with a restaurant, a religious bookstore, a gift shop and a movie theatre that would show nothing but old movies and evangelical films.

The warehouse district had the potential to become a hybrid of chic and low rent. Cory bought two more warehouses as they became available. She had them razed and put in a well-lit parking lot, complete with security patrol. A few full-page newspaper ads assured the Los Angeles elite that they could dine and enjoy theatre in an area that was once considered dangerous. It wasn’t just for the elite. Prices were kept reasonable so a family of modest means could spend an evening of dining and entertainment.

Paul’s new play, “Price of the Cross” was slated to open the 2^nd season. As theatre director, he oversaw most of the creative elements. Using her accounting skills, Zeke helped with the financial aspects and stood in as music director for a couple of the shows.

The more they worked together, the more Paul started attending the 4^th Street Christian Church with Zeke. The more they saw of each other, the more Paul felt drawn to Zeke. He had always liked her a lot, but one night after rehearsal, it hit him. He realized he had loved her for a long time. His infatuation with Senta had clouded his thinking. He had been busy trying to save her soul so he could have her. Paul knew he’d been a fool. Over the years, the scar across his face had lessened in color. It had faded into a thin, white line. After re-constructive surgery, his drooping eye was back in a normal position. He wasn’t Robert Redford, but he no longer got the rude, curious stares from strangers. And Zeke had known him at his worst. She didn’t seem to care about his deformed face.  As he improved his looks, so did she.  Zeke no longer looked like the impish tomboy. Beauty had come with maturity. And Paul noticed this. He just hadn’t been vocal about it.

Zeke was painting a backdrop while Paul proofread the program for the show.

“This might not be a good time for a change,” said Paul. “But instead of calling it “Price of the Cross”, maybe I should re-name it “Blood of the Cross”. What do you think Zeke?” He was sitting on the front row of the empty theatre, scanning the program. He looked up at Zeke who was on the ladder up on stage.

“Let me think. Hmm. “Blood of the Cross”. Yeah, it’s a good title Paul, but is it worth reprinting all of the programs, posters and ads?” He chewed on his eraser, then crossed out the change he’d made.

“You’re right. “Price” is better.”

As Zeke painted, he looked back up at her. She had been more than a sounding board for him. Zeke had integrity. Even before he let Cory read a script, he let Zeke read it first. Her suggestions were always on target.

“How would you like to be my assistant director on the next show?” he asked. Zeke gave him an icy stare and held up her hands in mock horror.

“Are you kidding? I’m doing the books, painting scenery, handling the orchestra and sound, and on top of that, keeping you focused. No thank you.”

“That’s pretty much what an assistant director does.”

“Yeah, right.”

 He walked up on stage and put his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder. “Maybe Cory should give you a raise.”

“No thanks. I’ve already got a percent of the annual gross.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that theatres lose money?”

“Not this one.” As he spoke, he admired how the lights shined through her hair. Her chestnut locks had grown down to her shoulders, and she had a widow’s peak that made her look womanly and girlish at the same time.

“Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”

She made a move to flick paint on him. “You’re a strange man. First you’re talking economics, then you’re looking at me like I’m Cleopatra.”

“I said you were pretty, not Liz Taylor.” This time she actually flicked the brush, spraying him with green paint. “Hey!”

“You look like you’ve got green measles!” Paul wiped his face with the back of his hand, creating streaks and smudges. This made Zeke laugh so hard she had to grab the top step of the ladder to keep from falling off. “You’re making it worse, Paul.”

“Come on down here, I’ll show you worse.” 

She laid the paintbrush in the pan on the top and stepped down. “Let me get you a towel.”

On the third rung from the bottom, she found herself confined in his arms that held fast to the ladder.

“I’m trying to get down, sir.”

“So, who’s stopping you?” The shorter Zeke was at eye level with the six foot Paul. His eyes were a little wide. He looked like he was going to say something important. 

“Paul…I…” Before she could speak, Paul was kissing her. It was long and passionate. They both felt the electricity as Paul embraced her, holding her against the ladder.

After a few blissful moments, they broke. Now her face had green smudges too.

“Wow,” she said softly. “But you did it wrong.” Before Paul could answer, she returned the kiss with equal passion.

The silver Mercedes convertible careened around the curve on PCH 1. The winding road along the coast was treacherous enough, but this car was out of control.

The police car parked on the shoulder instantly gave chase. For three miles of hair-raising turns and break neck speed, the Mercedes refused to slow down. Just outside of Malibu, the driver reluctantly pulled over.

When the arresting officers strode up to the Mercedes, one of them looked at the driver with astonished recognition.

“Hey, it’s Speedo.” He was referring to “Street Shadow” and Josh’s most famous role. Josh put his head back on the headrest and handed the officer his license. When he spoke, the policeman was almost knocked over by the bourbon on his breath.

“How fast was I going?” Josh slurred.

“We clocked you at forty-five on the hairpin turn, and ninety-eight on the straight-aways.”

 Josh clapped his hands together. “A new land speed record!” came his drunken reply. 

The policeman shook his head. “Could you get out of the car please sir?”

“Surely,” Josh said. He stumbled out of the car and leaned against the door. Suddenly he wasn’t feeling very well.

“Could you stand up straight Mr. Smythe?” 

Josh looked at the officer and gave him a lop-sided grin. “Yeah. Yeah I can. Just give me a couple of hours.”  He tried to stand, but stumbled forward. The policeman caught him.

“You’re definitely drunk my friend,” said the officer. 

Without warning, Josh threw up on the policeman. “I’m also definitely sick,” he mumbled.