Tales from way back when…

–and a $50 fine

CLIFFORD of the Court-renowned Ramjohn twins was as disreputable looking as ever as he stood in the dock before Magistrate Ronald Jailal the other morning. With the Christmas season just around the corner, Clifford just had to drop in to pay his regards.

He was accused of having misbehaved, though he should consider himself lucky that he was not charged with assault as well.

Clifford’s shirt was in rags and hung precariously to his young shoulders.

The pair of dirt-stained trousers he wore was in a similar state of disrepair, and his hair standing on his head like a porcupine’s added to his grimy and weird appearance.

“He must have been just out,” observed Mr. Jailal at the sight of Clifford in the dock.

Though he did not make it quite clear just what he really meant… from which of the colony’s institution’s was Clifford just let out.

A good guess, of course, would be that Mr. Jailal meant that Clifford had just been let out of the Camp Street Resort. For he is more often in than out.

“Yes,” agreed the Prosecutor. “I think he has only recently come out,” he added — and that confirmed the conviction that both he and Mr. Jailal were referring to Clifford’s most recent visit to Camp Street.

Clifford was, however, looking his usual dumb self and not saying a word. He neither attempted to protest against the suggestion that he is more in than out, neither did he agree to what either Mr. Jailal or the Prosecutor said. He just stood there mutely, and waited for Mr. Jailal to read out the charge.

“You’re charged with behaving disorderly in Regent Street,” read Mr. Jailal. “Are you guilty or not?”

“Guilty,” Clifford replied. “But ah would like to explain,” he added, as is his custom.

Clifford is never one to be caught without an explanation.

“I don’t know why they charged this man with this offence,” mused the Prosecutor, more to himself than anyone else.

“What! He shouldn’t have been charged!” demanded Mr. Jailal, mildly surprised at the Prosecutor’s statement, which he could not help overhearing.

“Certainly not,” replied the Prosecutor, a bit surprised in turn. “What I meant is that he should have been charged with behaving disorderly after having been twice previously convicted.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mr. Jailall agreed with the Prosecutor, while Clifford, whose fate it was that was being discussed in this impersonal manner, shifted uneasily in the dock. For Clifford is sufficiently acquainted with that part of the law (having been charged so many times) to know that had he been charged as the Prosecutor suggested, he would have been in line for a prison term.

Clifford also must have known that it would have been quite a simple matter for the Prosecutor to instruct that the more serious charge be instituted against him, and the other one withdrawn. And that accounted for his scared look as Magistrate and Prosecutor pondered on what was to be done.

“Well, I suppose it is a Christmas gesture to him,” suggested Mr. Jailal, and the Prosecutor, in the spirit of things, smiled and agreed.

Clifford, who was certainly not contemplating Christmas in jail, sighed with relief.

According to the Prosecutor, Clifford had assaulted a little boy who had gone into a yard to collect empty bottles.

It appeared that Clifford had presumed himself to be the guardian of the particular bottles, and so he had seized the urchin by the throat and commanded him never to return to that particular yard.

However, Clifford was promptly rebuked by a Special Reserve Policeman who was nearby. He was taking advantage on the little boy, Clifford was told.

Not being the type of person who can stand such criticism, particularly when it comes from a member of the Force, Clifford told the Constable just where he could get off. And the language he used was by no means parliamentary.

“He has eighty previous convictions,” the Prosecutor concluded in disgust.

“Eighty!” exclaimed Mr. Jailal. “Eighty-not-out!” he observed.

“Yes, Sir,” agreed the Prosecutor. “He’s batting very well.”

“Eighty previous convictions,” repeated Mr. Jailal in awed tones as he unfurled the banner-like official document on which Clifford’s past misdeeds were recorded.

“What do you want to say?” he asked the prolific Clifford, casting aside the document in abhorrence.

“Ah wukking at de Terrace,” declared Clifford.

“You wukking?” demanded Mr. Jailal, as if that was a physical impossibility.

“Yes, sah,” Clifford assured him, without batting an eyelid.

“Where you say?”

“At de Terrace ,” repeated Clifford, “in Regent Street.” Clifford paused to see if he had convinced Mr. Jailal.

But Mr. Jailal, though certainly not convinced, decided to let Clifford have his way on the matter of employment. There were much more important things to discuss… Clifford’s disorderly conduct and those eighty convictions.

Cliff must have sensed that he was expected to make his “explanation” at that stage, so he repeated that he works at this Regent Street establishment.

“Every night the boys practice is to thief the empty bottles,” he explained. “So I hold de li’l boy and put he out de yard. Den this SRP come down and say he takin’ me to the Station,” Clifford continued. “And ah tell he alright, leh we go to the Station. And on de way, he gih me one cuff behin’ me neck…”

“Who cuffed you?”

“The SRP,” Clifford replied.

“Eighty previous convictions…80,” commented Mr. Jailal, not quite able to forget the records completely.

Cliff was neither embarrassed, nor did he appear to be proud of the achievement.

“You admit them?” asked Mr. Jailal, “or you want me to read them?”

And Clifford decided to admit them and save Mr. Jailal the task of reading through the list.

“Yes, it would have taken me all morning,” agreed Mr. Jailal.

“You’re a drain and a drag on society… of absolutely no useful purpose,” Mr. Jailal condemned him.

“You’re fined $50,” he announced, and Clifford almost collapsed when he heard the maximum penalty.

But he was determined not to be dispirited… desperate to be on the outside for Christmas.

“Time to pay,” he begged, and both Mr. Jailal and the Prosecutor, who knew that Clifford is certainly not the type to pay a court fine of that size, laughed right out.

“Alright! Two months to pay!” announced Mr. Jailal. “But I know why you want to remain on the outside.”

Clifford smiled briefly. For he knew more than anyone else why he wanted to spend Christmas on the outside.

He’s been ‘in’ often enough to know that they serve no rum in jail, and Xmas without his grogs is no Xmas at all for Clifford. He will enjoy himself, and come the New Year, that will be time enough to think about going in for those two months.

(Guiana Graphic: December 12, 1956)

(Clifford Stanley can be reached to discuss the foregoing article at cliffantony@gmail.com or by telephone: 657-2043)

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