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“What happened in Te
I started again. “In the fifties, in Te
“Did you know that both my parents came here from Te
“I didn’t know.”
“Okay. Okay. Wild. What’s it called?”
“The Prisonaires.”
“Okay, tell me again.”
“Let me set it up,” I’d been advised to “talk in scenes.” “I’d want to start the movie inside the prison. The lead Prisonaire is a guy named Joh
“That reminds me of something else.”
“You’re probably thinking of ‘Singing in the Rain.’ ”
“Oh yeah, sure. He wrote that?”
“Different song.”
“Okay, let me get this: he’s wrongfully imprisoned. What’s the charge?”
“Well, actually it was six convictions for rape. Six ninety-nine-year sentences, with no possibility of parole.”
“Ouch.”
“The cops set him up. He was an arrogant, good-looking kid, and they had it in for him. They pi
“Brad Pitt, Matthew McConaughey.”
“I forgot to say black.”
“These are black people?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Jared waved his hands, reluctantly brushing Pitt from the room. “Start again with black people. How does he get out of jail?”
“Well, he doesn’t. I mean, he does later, but not right away. He starts a singing group in jail, prison, the Prisonaires. That’s the gimmick-they’re still in prison. They’re let out for recording sessions and live performances.”
“I don’t get it. In or out?”
“That’s the movie. The Prisonaires were so famous in Te
“You’re freaking me out.”
“I am?”
“Because we don’t make movies with dramatic highs and lows.”
“Sorry?”
“Just kidding, man.”
It was becoming possible I’d pitch myself across the gap between our love seats and throttle Jared.
“Look, if I could just describe it without any interruptions I think I could make you see.”
“Dylan, that’s not nice.”
“It’s just-I’m dying to tell you this story.”
“I like you, mister.”
I waited until it was clear he had nothing to add, then said, “Thank you.”
“Five minutes.” He spread his fingers to show me five, then stretched back and closed his eyes again.
“The Prisonaires are one of the great unknown stories in pop-culture history,” I said. The language was dead on my tongue, but I blundered on. “Five black guys in prison in the 1950s, some serving hundred-year sentences, some on briefer stretches, all victims of prejudice and economic injustice in the Jim Crow South. Five jailbirds who form a singing group just for the love of the music. But they’re so good they sing themselves into an audition. The warden issues special passes just so they can visit Sun Studios-this is in 1953, the same point when a weird little kid named Elvis Presley is hanging around Sun, trying to get a session. But the star of the movie is Joh
“Bad deal,” mused Jared.
“So they record. Cut a single, two sides. Elvis Presley is there. In the studio, hanging around. Just a kid they tolerate around the place. He and Bragg make friends, this is all true, by the way. Great chance for a cameo, like when Val Kilmer plays Elvis in Mystery Train.”
“Never saw it.”
“It’s okay, not great. Anyway, Bragg and the Prisonaires cut a record, two sides, and go back to the joint. End of story, right? Except the song, ‘Just Walkin’ in the Rain,’ is a hit. A big hit, people calling in requests to radio stations. Meanwhile, the Prisonaires are back inside. They don’t have radios, they don’t know, but then they start getting letters in the prison, letters from strangers. They’re becoming stars. And the prison officials start getting involved. You’ve got the warden on the phone to the governor, everybody trying to figure out how to handle this thing, whether to encourage it, how to spin the story.”
Jared nodded and rocked slightly, seeming to approve, perhaps envisioning white actors in supporting roles, Gene Hackman, Martin Landau, Geoffrey Rush.
“The authorities decide to go the liberal route, and claim the Prisonaires as a sterling example of rehabilitation. They start letting them out to make radio appearances, do live shows, cut more sides at Sun. There’s a lot of sentiment building up, people calling for pardons. Not least the Prisonaires themselves-they cut a song extolling the governor, called “Frank Clement, He’s a Mighty Man.” Basically just a raw bid for mercy. Not everybody’s happy though. The same heavy dudes that set Bragg up in the first place haven’t forgotten him. They’re biding their time, waiting for the Prisonaires to stumble. When the governor’s up for reelection things start getting interesting. These guys are becoming a political football. You can just picture the racial politics involved.”
“I’m thinking KKK, that’s what I’m thinking.”
“Uh, yeah. Just about. The thing about Te
“Wow. This is good stuff.”
“Let me describe one scene for you. I see this as a real centerpiece. There are photographs of a Prisonaires show from just before the first pardons-remember, these guys have families, they’ve left women behind, and the only time they get out is onstage. They can’t mingle. There’s probably armed guards at the edge of the stage, that sort of thing. These pictures, I should have brought them along, they’ll blow your mind, Jared.” By force of will I was leveraging the Prisonaires’ reality, their sweat and pain and love, into this pallid room, into Jared’s pallid mind. I’d make it stick, here where nothing stuck. I understood now that I was born for pitching. I had only to be let into the room. “It’s like the Beatles at Shea Stadium, Jared. Or Elvis. Women weeping, breaking down. But these aren’t just a bunch of teenage girls. They’re the Prisonaires’ mothers, grand mothers, aunts, girlfriends holding babies. They’re falling apart, tearing up handkerchiefs, crawling on the floor while these guys sing. The music is so beautiful, it’s just tearing people’s hearts out. Maybe you’d even have the girl who set Joh