1959 I was a high school student working a part-time job as the mail boy at Louisville Credit Men’s Association. Around the corner the Democratic Party had its headquarters...Danville Davis; the janitor introduced me to the place as a spot for good eats to draw a crowd. There was a great deal of excitement over a visit by Senator Kennedy, a candidate for the presidency. It was my first vote since I was turning 18. So Danville and I went to the headquarters."
“Did you see him?"
“Not only saw him, I shook his hand!"
“And you haven't washed your hand since... and that is #3?"
“I take my Kennedy politics very seriously... you see Kennedy is not only my hero, my mentor...but he is my saint as well and I promised myself that one day I would write a book as a legacy to his memory and my part in it...that hand shake, so that my children and grandchildren will know in 50 years, how important Kennedy was to this Country...and I will not let them forget him."
“Well, alright pilgrim," The old man using his best John Wayne..."where are you with this mind altering transformation?"
"I'm not even close...I've only been down less than a year."
"Well little partner, you got the talkin’ part done."
"I know that one...its Clint Eastwood." “So say the magic word, and win $ 100!" "That would be Groucho...Groucho Marx."
"Son, we're going to get along just fine, if you'll accept the advice I want to give you...coming from a man who is seventy-five and has been down for 42 years...most of it in this cell."
I could not believe what I had heard but chose to say nothing...just listened.
"While it is magnanimous of you to forgive those who were responsible for taking your freedom, it’s an exercise in futility... when your Christ said at first...'Forgive them Father, they know not what they do!'
Just remember that was followed by his final words...'Eli, Eli, Lama Sabacthani'The translation please...the old man said pointing to me as through he was the master of ceremonies"
“My God, My God. Why hath thou forsaken me?" I said.
"So you see, even in the most tragic death in the history of mankind, the God made Son chocked on his misery...you can have one way or the other...and it is my belief that at the end of the day you will be just like Christ...cursing those who took their own form of justice...a lynch mob...took you down to the hanging tree to dispense justice...those who conspired against you, destroyed your family, burnt your ranch to the ground, stole all you cattle, killed your son...and took vengeance on you because you refused to wear the blue pin-striped suit and red tie."
"42 years." I said (lost on the question)
"Yes, for sedition...because I know something about the truth behind the Kennedy murder and the government’s role in it."
“But sedition?" I asked.
“I think Black's Law Dictionary says that sedition is perhaps the very vaguest of all offenses known in the criminal code and is defined as the speaking or writing of words calculated to excite disaffection against the Constitution." He said.
“Look, I never ask an inmate about the amount of time they got or about their case,"
"Well I haven't spoken much to many folks, but you are a different breed of cat...you understand and speak the English language." You know what I mean, Joe?"
"No the name is Welby..."
"They call me Ham, names Merwin Sylvester Hamilton"
They shook hands with the inmate fist...just to acknowledge the issue of contamination.
Anyone checking in on these two old geezers would have been struck by how much fun they seemed to be having. Ham Hamilton for his part had spent so much time in this antiquated prison and raised so much hell over the celli assignments that those on high had simply decided to let him have a "one" man room. In the process Ham had lost many social skills, including personal hygiene.
When the Atlanta prison was originally built it must have been an awesome facility for any student of architecture. The facade is truly inspiring and the design of the atrium, now copied by the most elegant hotel chains, (Hyatt Hotels) comes to mind, set the precedent for the future, 100 years hence.
The prison policy provided one (1) hour for inmates to leave the cell and to perform one of the following: Get fed, get ice and water, use the phone, get reading material, socialize...and last but not least...take a shower.
The design of the showers was an afterthought and had to have been designed by a homosexual staff member because they were designed to face the atrium...like a closet, providing no privacy to undress or dress, additionally there was an ever present film and the odor from a series of long standing farts which had taken residence within the small space to be shared with other unspeakable matter which coated the walls and the floor.
Little wonder that the vast majority of the inmates utilized the sponge bath and avoided the spectacle and dehumanizing emphasis placed on and designed into the shower.
But Ham Hamilton had carried this issue to an extreme, following in the footsteps of the "latter day genius and bazaar nature exhibited by Howard Hughes." In fact, Ham Hamilton had become Howard Hughes, and since he lived in darkness and there were no mirrors, Ham felt safe and comfortable within his skin, and regardless of the weekly comments of the inmate population, Hamilton was going to spend his, under his own conditions and to hell with what anyone else thought.
Unlike most incoming cellies, most especially the black population who carried all hygiene to an extreme and had perfected their own sense of standards because they were the majority...I chose not to cause a stir over Ham's appearance and his odor. He had secured disinfectant in a spray bottle and both of us used it on the toilet and sink. I took it upon myself to wash the floor on hands and knees so that the space was close as we could get to clean and the air was reasonably fresh because the glass was broken.
It was in this atmosphere of mutual respect and generational comradely that I was not only able to confirm what I knew about the Kennedy assassination, what was out there in the public domain but through providence I was on a 24/7 co-habitation with the "keeper of the clandestine operational methodology" employed by the government, principally the CIA to murder the President.
There was only one path for me to take...and when you come to the end of the road which only goes right...take it. I chose to wait Ham out, when he wanted to talk, I was all ears...and note pad.
More importantly, I had begun to develop a respect and warmth for a man who through no fault of his own, was caught in the performance of his duty in the library at the CIA at Langley and his very participation as an American patriot dedicated to his country formed the basis for that very government to indict him for sedition and conspiracy to commit murder.
Like Lee Harvey Oswald, because Ham Hamilton knew the shadow network and the players employed in the scheme initially to bring down the government of Fidel Castro and to salvage the failed effects of the Bay of Pigs, Hamilton refused under his right to testify against himself and the right to remain silent under the Constitutional rights of the Fifth Amendment, when the Warren Commission came calling, those responsible for the operation, found Oswald to be a convenient patsy.
So far Hamilton had told me
