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Jail Party

I was working in a poor section of Charlotte when a fellow stopped me on the street and asked, “You remember me?”

I did.

“Hello, Wolfman,” I said. “How you been doing?”

 Mecklenburg County was closed in 1969. This photo, was published in March by The Charlotte Observer. Wolfman may have mopped this very hall.
The old Mecklenburg County was closed in 1969 but almost 50 years later it’s still there, on top of the old courthouse.  Wolfman may have mopped this very hall.

I had met him the year before, when he was an inmate in the Mecklenburg County Jail. He had helped me with stories I wrote in 1966 about problems in the jail, problems that help defeat a long-time Democratic sheriff.

“You should write stories about that new Republican sheriff,” Wolfman said, referring to Sheriff Don Stahl, a former FBI agent who had defeated J. Clyde Hunter, the Democratic candidate.

Wolfman had been back in jail since Stahl took over, and he didn’t like it.

Sheriff Don Stahl: He locked up Wolfman.
Sheriff Don Stahl: He locked up Wolfman.

I asked him if Stahl’s jailers had whipped up on him.

No, he said.

Or denied him food or medicine?

No.

Well, what then?

“They locked me up,” Wolfman said.

I started to explain that that’s what happens to people in jail — they get locked up, but Wolfman cut me off.

“It won’t that way when Sheriff Hunter was sheriff,” he said.

This is an eight-person cell in the old Mecklenburg County jail. Both photos were published last March by The Charlotte Observer.
This is an eight-person cell in the old Mecklenburg County jail. This photos and the one above were published in March by The Charlotte Observer.

Before this new sheriff came along, Wolfman said, he had been a trusty. He had to work a little, mop floors and such, but he pretty much had the run of the jail.

He said a jailer took him to a grocery store every so often to buy candy and snacks which he resold to other inmates at a tidy profit. Sometimes he was allowed to bring back a bottle of wine, too.

As the head trusty, Wolfman said, he got to pick the woman trusties.

“And I didn’t pick nobody that wasn’t friendly to me. You know what I mean?”

I told him I thought I did.

One evening, just before the election, Wolfman said he and a woman trusty took a plate of turkey drumsticks, a bottle of wine, and a box of postcards, and went up on the roof of the jail. He said they spent several hours eating, drinking, and addressing post cards urging voters to “Re-Elect Sheriff Hunter.”

To see The Charlotte Observer’s story about the old jail, published on March 1, go here.

Coming Friday: The Crazy Hiker, Part 1

You Parked Where?!

My wife, Donna Joy Hyland, and I began dating in 1959, when we were seniors at Garinger High School in Charlotte.  Sometimes –OK, pretty often– we parked on some quiet residential street after the movie, held hands, and counted stars.

Our senior year, 1960.
Our senior year, 1960.

Sometimes we dated in a 1951 Plymouth named “Suzie” that Dad drove back and forth to work. Sometimes we went out in her car, a heavier than lead ’49 Chevrolet she called the “Gray Ghost.”

One evening, after we had finished counting, her car wouldn’t start.

This was a problem, not because we were so far from her house —  we were only a mile, mile and a half away. It was a problem because of where we were parked. How was I going to explain that to her father, who had greeted me after one date holding a shotgun — Donna said he was just teasing.

The "Grey Ghost" looked like this '49 Chevy, but not nearly so shiny.
The “Grey Ghost” looked like this ’49 Chevy, but not nearly so shiny.

What I had to do, I decided, was push the “Gray Ghost” to a commercial area.

So I started pushing. Donna steered.

When we finally got to The Plaza, I thought, heck fire, why not push it on across Independence Boulevard?

And I did. And, by then, we were only two blocks from her street, Chesterfield Avenue.  And from there it was downhill most of the way. So I pushed her car all the way back home.

No explanation required.

Coming Monday: Jail Party