Bernie, Jack and Me

I lead a peculiar life in prison. I have remained – at least for the first three years anyway – above the daily fray of theft, two-bit violence, threats and general disrespect from larger, more violent men.  As I’ve written before, Darwinism – “survival of the fittest” – plays out daily in places like this.  That I’ve remained unscathed and only been a recorder of the abysmal conditions here is one of those things I have counted as a blessing from God.  Oscar Wilde, as I previously noted, was quite right when he wrote “what seems to us as bitter trials are often blessings in disguise.”

Survival of the fittest.  So often that is thought to be the biggest, the strongest, the cunning predator over the weak prey.  I have discovered that brains, education, and your crime, may in fact place you in the realm of “fittest” in this screwy world behind wire.

Which led to a funny revelation for me the last few weeks.  As Bernie Madoff’s wife and son peddled a book attempting to get them public sympathy (at the price of more scorn heaped on Mr. Madoff) guys started calling me “Larry Madoff”.  Newspaper accounts of Madoff’s Ponzi scheme, his wife’s “I didn’t know” mea culpa and his liquidation trustee’s multiple suits against anyone ever connected with him (at least the attorneys will be paid in full!) appeared on my bunk and guys would ask for my thoughts.

Then, last week Jack Abramoff appeared on “60 minutes” and the guys lined up to hear my pronouncements on the man convicted of corrupting congress and cheating his clients – various Indian tribes seeking gambling compacts – out of $45 million.  Ironically, Abramoff served less than four years in a medium security Federal prison.  He now works as an accountant for a pizzeria with a $24 million restitution order on his back.  Of course, he lives at home with his wife, children and dogs – same house, same everything – just as he did before his arrest.  So, naturally I was called “Larry Jack” for a few days.

And the questions always followed the same lines:
“Do you really think Madoff’s wife didn’t know?”
“Why do you think she hasn’t divorced him?”
“Does it piss you off that both their wives stayed while yours dumped you?”

Leaving my answers to those questions for another day, both stories got me thinking.  Take Bernie Madoff.  His wife said “he was a wonderful man who got in over his head and was afraid to admit it.  It took on a life of its own.”  I get that.  Like Bernie, my intention was never to steal for twelve years.  I know why I wrote the first check.  I know what I was feeling, what I was dealing with.  And, I knew it was wrong.  But once you cross that line it gets easier and easier until you want to stop, but the fear of getting caught, of admitting what you’ve done, paralyzes you.

Like Bernie, death seemed a better solution than facing failure.  It was a George Bailey moment he – and I – faced.  Only Frank Capra didn’t write the ending; a judge did.

Then there was a comment from Abramoff.  He told the interviewer his pride blinded him.  He was, in his mind, a highly moral man, a pillar of the community.  The money, the access, the perks, corrupted him.  It was true as Bob Dylan so poetically put it, that “all he believes are his eyes…and his eyes they just tell him lies…”  There’s a reason the Bible warns us of the dangers of pride.  As Jack Abramoff spoke, I could only shake my head in agreement.

Bernie, Jack and me.  I told a friend in a letter this week I’m a better man for going through this.  I’m a lot lonelier, but I’m also a lot less judgmental and more merciful.  I’m not sure what Bernie’s doing, but Jack – well, he appears to be a different man as well.

Soviet dissident and political prisoner Mihajlo Mihailov said “whoever follows his inner voice and saves his soul, learns empirically that, so long as the soul is not lost, the most important is not lost.”

Bernie and Jack are not simple, black and white, good versus evil men nor are their circumstances.  The guys understand that about me.  But, it applies to everyone.  Perhaps there’s a little of Bernie and Jack in all of us.