SOUTHSIDE HUSTLE

A Chapter by Lou Holly

This is an excerpt from SOUTHSIDE HUSTLE, based on true events, set in October 1985 at Cook County Jail.

Excerpt from SOUTHSIDE HUSTLE, set in October 1985

by Lou Holly

Trick stood naked with about fifty other guys, lined up along the cinderblock wall in a vast cold hallway, their street clothes in a pile behind them. He knew the Cook County Jail drill, turn around, bend over, spread your cheeks and cough on order as the mountainous black guards filed passed. If they found someone keistering anything, they’d knock the hell out of you.

The guard captains’ voice boomed, “Stand with your arms at your sides and both feet on the ground at all times. Do not fold your arms. Do not cross your legs. Do not speak unless answering a direct question from a guard.”

As the captain continued, a thirtyish black guy to Trick’s left absent mindedly folded his arms in front of him. One of the guards immediately got in his face and shouted, “Drop your arms!”

Instructions went on for several more minutes and Trick cringed when the guy to his left forgetfully folded his arms again. The same guard, that warned him previously, busted the inmate hard over the head with his billy-club. The man went down with a thud, his head bouncing off the hard cold floor like a basketball. The guard stated matter-of-factly, “That’s what happens when you don’t follow instructions.”

Facing straight ahead as ordered, careful not to move his body, apart from the heaving of his chest and direction of his eyes, Trick glanced down at the injured inmate. The man lay still except for spasmodic twitching. He was out cold. A pool of blood formed at his head which lay less than a yard from Trick’s bare feet. As the jailhouse directions continued to boom off the gray walls of the corridor, Trick spied the blood forming a tiny stream and heading toward his left foot. He knew that moving away from it would mean the same brutal treatment so he stood at attention looking at the wall in front of him.

A few moments later, he glanced down to see the unwelcome body fluid a few inches away. He’d heard rumors that the new AIDS disease was carried through blood and saliva and that intravenous drug users were at greater risk from sharing needles. Trick saw the telltale track marks on the man’s arms. The red stream was now less than an inch from his left foot. He carefully and slightly moved his foot away from the stream of crimson which continued creeping toward him. Standing still for a long time was proving tougher than it seemed and his lower back began to ache. With the dark red fluid dangerously close, he moved his left foot up against his right, making it even more difficult to stand with his weight less distributed. Again the blood gained ground and Trick felt he had no choice but to move both feet slightly closer to the young Puerto Rican man to his right when the guards were not watching him directly.

Trick heard commotion coming from the hallway to his left. A trustee, in blue jail-issue clothing and white jacket, rolled a wheelchair up to the injured man. Trick couldn’t tell if the prone inmate was alive or dead. Even the spasms stopped. The orderly in latex gloves, along with the head-cracking guard, scooped the limp man into the chair and he was wheeled away with his head bobbing to the side.

To his relief, Trick heard the captain of the guards announce, “Put your clothes back on.”

Trick stepped over the tiny river of blood and turned around to retrieve his clothes. After everyone quickly dressed, they followed orders and proceeded to the next level of hell.