Word: jails
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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Joseph Valachi, 60, don't care if it does become a bore. In the District of Columbia jail where he is resting his weary bones and wagging tongue, Joe has been asked to whip up an autobiography in hopes that he will drop a few pearls about swine he forgot before. But Joe is taking the whole thing as a serious publishing venture, says a CBS newsman who got hold of the first paragraph of The Real Thing. "To begin with," writes Joe, "I must say I came from the poorest family on earth. As a boy I went...
...waitress in Birmingham called out the colored cook to wait on us. The waitress in Anniston let us wait through the fifteen minute rest stop. The waitress in Columbus, Miss. spilled cream all over my brand new overalls. We expected a good whipping or at least a week in jail in war-like Winona, Miss., but they had replaced the cafeteria with vending machines. An ancient, bespectacled colonel offered me a quarter for my front seat as we approached Winona. I declined and he returned to the back of the bus. Jackson, Miss...
Some of my teeth were loosened, and my ears are still ringing. My pride and my head were sore for days, but at least I was able to stay out of the infirmary (rumor has it to be worse than the jail itself...
...colored men's cage at the Hinds County Jail consists of a hundred-foot corridor with five eight-man cells on either side. Everything except the floor is made of unpainted blue steel--the floor is of ancient cracked cement. Each cell is eighteen feet wide by eleven feet deep with two barred and screened windows. There is a hole in the floor of each cell which serves as a toilet--it is flushed periodically by trusties who happen by. There is a needle-spray cold water shower in the large day room (in which the prisoners are locked from...
When we were being transported from the city to the county jail (handcuffed, escorted by nervous shotguns), the deputy, having heard that we were coming, came downstairs to meet us. He is supposed to fill out an information blank on each prisoner, so there is a brief interrogation session before one is run up to the fifth floor cages. "Youah name Weavuh, dat raht?" Without thinking, I replied, "That's right." He leaped across the table and beat me out of the room and halfway down the hall. I finally went limp and fell to the floor, hoping that...