Hill Top

  It was early fall again, and after only being out on Parole for 4 months from The Riverside School in Gatesville, I was sentenced again back to this Gatesville for burglary. It was September 22nd, 1966 when after the Diagnostic Center process that I was assigned to The Louisiana Hall at Hill Top School. And just a few notes for history's sake, Los Chicanos called The Diagnostic Center "La Quarentena." And my brother Sam was first assigned to the Arizona unit at the "Valley School." I spent 11 months here at "La Loma." And I made great friends here too. However, back at Riverside I left out many stories about personal encounters with many young men that left lifetime impressions on me. People like Porter, a Black guy, who was with me there and later I'll meet him at Mountain View also. I can still see their faces as they pass my mind as I think back on these crazy days. But here at Hill Top, the people that will cross, and meet me, briefly on my path, will also impact me the same way because they are exactly like me. And how can anyone forget one of a kind moments like that? I can't! Nonetheless, the discipline imposed on us here is still the same. However, since most of the troubled youngsters here have aged, there is not that much cruelty dished out to us for that reason. The kids are now giants in size and Guard brutality like beating on us is not that common like before. The guards are rigid in enforcing right behavior, but the youngsters are now more intelligent and cunning. The Code of Conduct for Chicanos though becomes like Communism. The beatings from the Chicanos on Chicanos grew more violent to instill fear to cooperate with their Laws. You know everybody has to have laws. And major fights among individuals grew also. Here it seemed to me that the youngsters were establishing a real pecking order and learning how to be Big Shit. All the training as kids to become big shit came to fruition here at this School for Big Boys at Hill Top. The Louisiana Hall was an ancient dreary old two story building like the A-Company at Riverside. To me these old antique buildings epitomized History and Power. Therefore, the energy that these old buildings generated empowered people like me with pride for being given the honor to be housed at such prestigious houses' like this. The Oklahoma and Michigan Halls to the left and right of the Louisiana were old ancient similar buildings also. It is at this unit that I became friends with Louis Gerhart of west Texas and Marcos Martinez of Lubbock, and Chilo from Plainview. I made other friends here too but it was Buckaloo and Chilo who I hung out with. As I said, we worked hard here and we also got to go to school half a day. This is a type of Medium Security Prison conditions because there are no barbed wired double fences nor towers manned by guards. But there are Rules and they are strictly enforced. Step out of line and one finds out how fast. Because even though the beatings decrease, the brutal beatings are still reserved for the hard heads. One fact of life that nobody can deny about Correctional facilities is that when people are young or old, and they've been locked up too long, some inmates will see a young man or old one just as if that male person was a female. I suppose that in young people the phenomena of Androgyny may play a part here? However, as for the old inmates..., I just don't know what goes on in their minds? All I know is that this is a serious spiritual phenomena? Nonetheless, that is a problem and if inmates mean to keep a good report among the gangsters, one has to continually fight for their ass. Among so many other reasons as well. That is why I said that this place was not a mental asylum, but it was close. Anyway, a good friend of mine named Joe Sanchez, who we called Gafos because he wore glasses, who was from  San Marcos but originally was from San Antonio, was a Barber here. I can't remember what unit he was in, but there was a team of barbers that went from unit to unit to cut hair in the evenings and at night. And Joe Sanchez became a Barber after he got out and owns his own Barbershop in San Marcos presently. He has been a barber here for a very long time. And like I said, life here was more calculated. The young guys now understood that fist fights could happen at the drop of a hat over anything. Some guys did fight over their so- called girlfriends and things and it was a mess here. And like I said before, the showers and toilets were wide open and if someone was accused of gazing at someone's ass, there was going to be a big fight over that. Even if someone accidentally touched someone's ass, the Code Law said you had to fight. Now, while playing sports The Law was exempted. So as one can see clearly, bad law is bad law! But, I still had to abide by that Law further down the road. Like those in Secret Societies have to do. Well just picture more of the same in the future, just different characters and places and times. And it's the fighting that gets me into trouble and back into The Adjustment Center here at Hill Top. And several times when my Dad would come to visit his three sons once a month in Gatesville, they couldn't visit with me because I spent a lot of time in The Adjustment Center. Their policy there stated that no visits were allowed to those in Lock up. And here we go again; I was like those hard headed Hebrew Israelites of The Great Exodus going around and around that "Great Mountain," in the desert. Was it any wonder that Moses lost his temper!!! Man, poor Moses. Even "God" lost "His" temper with the Hebrews then. Well, there I was again and but this time I was cleaning out the dairy farm, the horse barn, the dog kennels, and some farmers personal farms in Gatesville that were completely filled inside with horse shit almost to the top of those roofs. We also worked at the Caliche pit, and visited the Honey bucket and grease trap. And the time here was something I was accustomed to, just like cutting grass and taking out the trash back home. I do remember only Mr. Brown being our evening guard at the Louisiana Hall. He was a good man. He was built like Mr. Worthington at Lock up. I believe that Mrs. Johnson a Black middle aged woman, was our Clothes Room Lady here. If my recollection is correct, Mr. Lovell is our morning guard here? And for some strange reason, I believe that Mrs. Johnson was my Clothes Room Lady at Riverside at A-3 Unit too? Mr. Lovell was a good guard like Mr. Brown. Oh!, And before I forget I have to include in my story a young White man who had been plagued with Polio, and had been there since he was ten years old and who was truly one of those throw away child at this reformatory who we called "Chicken." Well, Chicken's real name was Harold Jones. All I can confess about this guy is that he suffered greatly everyday and night from brutal teasing's from some inmates constantly. At the time that I arrived at Hill Top at The Louisiana Hall, Chicken was already there and he was at that time twenty years old. This is one character that I cannot forget because he also loved to talk trash to those he hated. And I did get to see him get out to be free on his own when he turned twenty one years old. You should have seen how happy he was that morning in all his nice clothes. Nobody cackled at him like a Chicken on that day. It was a happy moment for him and we all shook his hand and said goodbye to Harold Jones. I wonder if he ever wrote down that tragic story of that time in Gatesville? And I wonder how his life turned out? But anyhow, at the end of these 11 months I got myself in serious trouble along with Louis Gerhart and Marcos Martinez. Louis Gerhart is half Mexican and half White. He is tall and light skinned. Marcos is medium height and dark skin like me. Well, they lock us up and we are told that they have had it with us and that we were bound to Mountain View School. They said that once there, we could not come up for parole for the next 18 months. This was based on our good behavior. More time could be added if we screwed up some more. And given our Chicano Laws, shit!, what was there to do? Well amigos out there riding in the car down the highways, listening to good old oldie love songs, if I can I will tell the rest of the story another day because it is late and an old man needs to have his daily long talk with his "God" before crashing out. And express from the heart, all that I am thankful to "Him" for. And I am grateful for Irma Reyes, el amor de mis amores. Although she is dead now, she is a big reason that I am above waters. And for all these adventures that have taken me step by step closer to "God Himself". Adios Amigos, take good care and don't ever turn your back on La familia. Let's sleep on that for now. Thanks again.                                                                                                                                                                                                          Respectfully,                                                                                                                                                                                  Ruben N. Gutierrez