Word: squeals
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PROTECTION IS NOT just the name of the game in prison. It is the game, period. Who will kill for you, who won't squeal to the guards on you, who will connect you to the "lines" that fetch in cash and drugs from the outside. Nothing else much matters. All the other undercurrents of prison life feed into this network of domination--the meals, the exchanges with guards, the vocational training programs. Every activity provides a chance to jockey for influence. Every bit of slang becomes a code-word. Every move somehow reflects on the prison hierarchy...
...Arthur Milgram, 48, head of a company that sells New York State lottery tickets through vending machines, executed on Feb. 8 in a Queens parking lot. Milgram was reportedly about to squeal on Mafia loan sharks who were trying to take over his business...
...times to resort to predictable grimacing and posturing. Little Harlan (Jeffrey Manwaring) is a delightful seven-year-old--quietly cute with a minimum of the necessary saccharine. The rest of the supporting cast are fine character types, though the maids might do well by talking some of the squeal out of their crying scenes...
...wife Eloina, 45, and seven of their eight children (a married daughter lives upstairs). Also a three-year-old orphaned nephew whom they are raising. Also about eight other children (it is hard to keep count) who don't quite live there but sort of romp around and squeal. Also a neighborhood cat. "I'm the only woman in the neighborhood who doesn't work full time, so I take care of everybody's children," says Do?a Eloina. "People around here, they call this place the casa de locos, but they don't understand. Children, they are everything. People...
...each limo drew up, one heard a brief, collective indrawing of breath as lungs dilated for the big squeal; generally it was followed by a disappointed exhalation, as the couple issuing from the Cadillac turned out to be unrecognizable. Lip gloss, hair spray, three-tone streaks, cocoa-butter tans, insecure Zapata mustaches and wine red crushed velvet tuxedos: the women looked like tennis club matrons and their escorts like croupiers. The teenies had come for Al Pacino, but he was in New York. Prodded by the eupeptic booming of the outside master of ceremonies, they stayed to squeal at Walter...