Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Til the End


A short love story by Leroy Elwood Mann


[She sat in the chair, her back against the wall, looking at him across the room.] The stress in his eyes made him look much older than his 35 years.  His gaze was centered on her presence, and it was evidently clear what he was feeling for her.

The last time they spoke, he revealed that he had been in love with her since they were kids.  She had no idea such an infatuation existed between them.  They were just kids.  How could he – or she for that matter – know the meaning of love at such a green stage in their lives?  She had always liked him, but never considered any relations other than a platonic friendship.

Daleah Freeman shuffled in her seat.  The discomforting thought of missing out on “Real Love” simply because she did not see herself as his type of girl, troubled her. She knew success in the highest occupational sense.  But the success of having a true love and growing with a soul mate was far beyond her grasp.  That is…until this very moment. 

Her soul mate was mere feet away, yet his current circumstance made him untouchable.  She felt a strong urge to stand up and proclaim the true love that had been hidden to her eyes.  After all these years of a love lying dormant, she wanted every person in that room to know that this man – her man – was indeed the best man.

As the urge to love out loud grew within her being, she looked around the room.  The looks of contempt, retribution, and hate on the faces surrounding her temporarily suppressed the urge to reveal what she could not admit to before this moment.  Her stomach twisted in knots, “How can they feel this way about someone they don’t even know?” Her thoughts were so loud she subconsciously covered her mouth.

The man she loved was strapped to a gurney, standing upright.  A microphone was pushed toward his mouth and without the least bit of hesitation; his heart spoke above the mutters of the execution witness room.  “I love you, Lee-Lee.”

His dying words released the floodgates of her tears ducts.  She felt a warm chill throughout her core as all eyes made the connection from his words to her seated presence.  She could clearly see the ancestry of lynch mobs, grand dragons, and cross-bearing arsonists in their vitriolic glares.  At this point, Lee-Lee was beyond being intimidated.

Before the man she loved was injected with the serum of inhumanity, she stood from her chair and spoke as if her words would kill the hate within the room, and shatter the transparent partition that separated her from the physicality of true love.

“An innocent man is about to die here!  And, I love him to death!”

Is this the end?


100,

MannofStat
Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Monday, April 18, 2016

The Brink of a Dying Chill



Jing! Jing!
Jing! Jing!
Sounds of a good day.
At a time when emotional funk stunk up my life,
A string attached to four bells spoke when I didn’t have much to say.
Jack and Jill Ice Cream,
A natural born hustler driving the truck to make C.R.E.A.M.
Plus a ride along but it wasn’t my dream
Although pulling that string released the chill within my pent up steam.
Jing! Jing!
Jing! Jing!

Leaving the top of the city for the shallows of
“THE BOTTOM” could be a dangerous trail
So my sales window activity
Was sharper than a musketeer’s rapier
When all the while,
I pulled that string to ring
A song in a ghetto child’s ear.
Jing! Jing!
Jing! Jing!

Ruminating a building bulldozed by bullies with badges
Boisterous about burning buildings where blacks live
Basically bonds two brothers bound for the bosom of breaking news bigger than butter pecan,
Restores my recollection of the rants relative to rationing relief to residents recovering from the reprehensible response to revolutionary Rastas,
I knew no imposters.

“Don’t try to eat up all the damn popsicles,
And don’t be asking a bunch of fucking questions.”
My only instructions from a peckish instructor
My driver, Big Brotha “D,” formerly know as “Pee-Wee” of the IMPERIALS OF SOUL.
Housing project gangbangers, my guidance from sun up to sundown every bit of 3 sixty 5.
34th to 38th, then 41st for a block party stop.
A stationary ice cream store with the lure
Of a foreign language, my driver made me his interpreter.
Those bells, amidst the yells
Of an urban district inhabited by political animals.

Listless from vicious police attacks on the backs of blacks, no counter attacks
Just the peripatetic mentality to avoid a policeman’s strap.
My adrenaline was high, as kick came to our truck in droves.
I served push-up popsicles, twin popsicles, the fudge filled chocolate crunch popsicles, and Mickey Mouse popsicles with the chocolate ears, eyes and nose
Those didn’t last long at all
The overhead change distributor spoke when coins would fall…
Chk… Chk… Chk. Chk. Chk.
Quarters. Nickels. To dimes.
Dimes. Quarters to nickels.
Chk. Chk… Chk.

20 sales in, my bells sounded exhaustion
Jing. Jing… Jing. Jing
The driver took my place, accelerating the pace.
The change fell heavily, but steadily
Into big bruh’s diligent palm.
The daylight star moved east to west and our popsicle freezers held nothing but calm.
My heavy eyes took in the ice cream smeared faces of “The Bottom” left in out wake
Jing… Jing.

Then black cops made us stop.  Cause we didn’t STOP!!!
At an intersection,
The connection from our old hood to our new home
Boom! Bang! Run Lump!!
Pee-Wee’s body was no longer his own.
A Richard Allen mob, 2 chrome-plated senders.
And black trigger fingers at the ready
A day of progression impeded by oppression leaves the impression,
In a blink Life can turn deadly.
Jing…

MannofStat
Copyright © 2016  by Leroy Elwood Mann

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Show and Tell



As a fourth grader, Fridays after lunch would be the highlight of my week.  The fact that I was two hours closer to the weekend school bell ringing played a minimal role in my midday enthusiasm.  

You see, this was the designated hour for Show & Tell.  A frozen moment where Ms. Warner (our teacher) would put down the chalk, place the text books to the side, and allow her pupils to step into the proverbial spotlight of public speaking.

I would relish in this opportunity to share the particulars of an autographed photo of New York Jets’ running back, Bruce Harper; the relevance of my latest Hot Wheels carrying case; or my last kite flying session with Pops in Fairmount Park.  I believe this is the reason being on stage has never felt foreign to me.

It was not evident then, but my teacher provided a platform for her students to get to know one another outside of the raised hands and test scores.  This was an occasion where an individual could freeze time despite the clocks ticking closer to the finale of a school week.  It was the moment to show people the real person standing before them.  A time when there was no right or wrong answer; just me.

All of the Hollywood buzz surrounded the latest installment of George Lucas’ STAR WARS saga, on December 18, 2015.  However, this was also a day that saw history being made in the most non-fictional way.  Six death row prisoners (myself included) captivated a standing room only audience (70 or better) within the walls of Raleigh’s Central Prison.  We gave them a story for the ages entitled: SERVING LIFE.

In some circles we are men remembered as no more than walking relics of much simpler times.  But, in this space that provides no access to rehabilitation for men of our kind, this cast of MAINE, DIEGO, PHILLY, BROOKLYN, WINSTON, and RALEIGH made the most of the 90 minutes bringing the how to the people and unveiling the realness often eclipsed by the daily attire of the red jumpsuit.  Staying in the moments of our lives-before and during the capital ploy of justice being served-proved to be an emotional roller coaster for anyone within the space.

When the scripts were issued last June, I was a bit daunted by its entirety.  I mean, I was prepared to orate a couple of monologues, but SERVING LIFE required far more responsibility than reciting a spoken word piece, then returning to my seat until the rotation came back to me.  This handpicked ensemble of six literary expressionists were groomed by Mrs. Lynden Harris (executive producer) to become a unified body for the purpose of sharing the plight of being human, while the judicial sands of time assures cruel and unusual punishment.

Initially, I thought the portrayal of multiple characters would detract from the energy of my role as PHILLY.  The tutelage of our stage Director, Ms. Kathy Williams, helped me to understand that SERIVING LIFE is the embodiment of art, that is our lives.  So every word spoken every gesture made, and every tear shed is simply who we are.  There is nothing to add or subtract from that.  Once this was understood my script was no longer a tangible object.  I can honestly say that I remain “in character” as this goes to press.

By taking on the roles of a racist school principal from DIEGO’s past; the no nonsense persona of BROOKLYN’s grandmother; an overly aggressive C.O. that stained the memory of MAINE; and a lackluster bus driver who dodged the responsibility of being anything more to WINSTON than a means of transportation to and from school.  I have grown closer to the traumas of their past, as they have mine.

Our cast opened the play walking in the manner of ankles restrained by the state’s shackles.  We left the stage, walking upright to the harmonious tune of a standing ovation.  It’s funny; prior to this experience Christmas was not official until I heard the classic Donny Hathaway joint, THIS CHRISTMAS. In SERVING LIFE I get to sing the opening verse,

“Hang all the mistletoe
I’m going to get to know you better…
This Christmas!”

Feel me?

My classmates from the Duke Divinity School sat in as the audience for our December 8th dress rehearsal.  The hugs and tears that follow the performance was a strong indication that this would be a special Christmas season, where the ears and eyes outside of Unit 3’s walls would get to know the “people” within these red jumpsuits better.

Much like Show and Tell many years ago, I am looking forward to the next installment of freezing time – helping people get to know me through a show that will tell them everything this red jumpsuit cannot.  SERVING LIFE is death to capital punishment.

Still Livin,’

MannofStat
Copyright © 2016 by Leroy Elwood Mann

Monday, April 4, 2016

Pawn Sacrifice


“…every minute aspect of the ‘Match of the Century’ (Bobby Fischer vs. Boris Spassky) has been put under chess, psychological and socio-political microscopes.  There is not much new or original that many be said about this match – it was simply an event that gripped the entire world…”
Karsten Muller

Just recently I had the opportunity to see the movie “Pawn Sacrifice.” It is loosely based on the life of Bobby Fischer, but focused mainly on his 1972 match against Boris Spassky for the World Chess Championship title.  Due in large part to Fischer, what was once simply a hobby people indulged, became an international event that captivated the world.

An eccentric genius, Fischer was a chess ‘rock star,’ a monumental being, the type of person who comes along every hundred years or so and has a profound effect on the world.  Of record, no one before or after him has impacted the sport of chess in the manner that he did.  His very name is virtually synonymous with chess.  Prior to the release of “Pawn Sacrifice,” if you had asked anyone who knows anything about chess to name the most famous chess player in the history of the game, most of them would have answered “Bobby Fischer.”

Before this, the computer age, he was considered a genius of chess, a true evolutionist of the game.  He loved it so much that he is quoted to have said, “All I want to do, ever, is play chess.” Thus, he sacrificed so much else in life and as a result, is revered as a chess legend.  Perhaps even, the greatest player to ever live.

There is a saying that goes, “When you want to succeed as bad as you want to breathe, then you’ll be successful.” This type of iron-willed determination is what propels people to greatness, motivates them to achieve the seemingly impossible.  Being condemned to die for over seventeen years and counting, I have both witnessed and experienced the ebb and flow of the desire to live.  It is an everyday struggle to not succumb to the gloom and despair of an American “death house.”

When your friends are being executed and also, just simply dying all around you, it is impossible not to be affected.  It is difficult to be optimistic and not question the point of continuing to live in such a state. Yet we persist.  Mourning our fallen comrades, we immortalize them in word and deed. They are not forgotten. Whether it be with hopes of receiving relief through the courts or merely in accepting life for what it is and living, making the best of our situation.  Regardless of the circumstances of our incarceration, we endure the sacrifice of fate; suffer the loss of our freedom.  We refuse to resign.

A pawn sacrifice is the sacrificing of a pawn to achieve a positional advantage.

Approximately two years ago we were honored with our first visit from Eugene Brown, the man who inspired the movie “Life of a King” in which he is portrayed by Oscar award winning actor Cuba Gooding, Jr.  During this visit and the others that have followed, he has shared with us accounts of his experiences and overall objective in life.  After years of living the life of a criminal and being addicted to drugs, he has “habilitated” himself and become a productive part of society. 

He is the founder and CEO of The Big Chair Chess Club, has a book (“From a Pawns to a Kings”), scheduled to be released in spring of 2016, and is a community activist mentoring youth.  He has also spoken at jails and prisons around the country.  An undeniable inspiration, he is a truly dedicated agent of social and penal reform.  For him, chess isn’t just a game, it is a way of life.  It is a vehicle he uses to navigate through life successfully and he counsels others to do the same.

Now what, one may ask, does this have to do with men who have been condemned to die?  Mr. Brown has discovered among us a light of hope and source of inspiration and motivation for those in need of it.  He has witnessed our humanity and thus, has sacrificed his time and efforts to provide us with an opportunity to reaffirm it to the world, through the noble game of chess.  As the newly appointed National Ambassador for Chess in Prisons, it is his desire to establish our unit as the headquarters for the National Prison Chess League. 

Through this league prisoners will compete against one another via Skype and/or Internet links.  The league will also organize events in which prisoners compete against civilian players.  Furthermore, the games played will be published in books, (The Death Row Gambit) and magazines (Lethal Injection), for the world to see, documenting our legacy in the annals of chess history, a major ‘life’ accomplishment for us.

Times are changing.  Chess is becoming more popular in the 21st century.  Chess programs are now commonplace in schools.  Recently, school children right here in Raleigh competed against children in Nigeria, and the youngest U.S. female chess master is an eleven-year-old girl.  Chess clubs are being established all around the world and on the Internet tens of thousands of games are played daily.  Then there is the release of the movie, Pawn Sacrifice. 

All of this is a sign of the rebirth of chess popularity.  For us on North Carolina’s Death Row, chess is a productive pastime, hence our association with Eugene Brown.  He has recognized that with us, chess is more than just a game.  It is a means for us to mitigate our humanity.

Check

Copyright © 2016 by Rodney Taylor, Sr.