Anyone who knows me well by now knows that I am deeply fascinated by the life and times and personal journey of "The U.K.'s most dangerous inmate." I've been on it for a while now and people think it's crazy and they thought it was a phase and that I would eventually give it up. I spoke to dear friend Siobhan Lafave the other night and she convinced me to write a blog about it to put some bullshit to rest and try to help the folks understand. But, phew, this won't be easy to put into words as the intellectual connections and spiritual side of it is as important as what I would like to do in terms of an interview with Charlie (we're on a first name basis in the netherworld.) I want to spread his message across the U.S. by being an American journalist that brings his story to "this side of the pond."
So here goes, I'll give it my best shot.
A few months ago I watched the Bronson movie that somehow ended up at Blockbuster, which shocks me because it's not The Hangover or the Hurt Locker. It's super indie and was even paid for in part by the English Lottery, which didn't sit well with many officials and others. That's the Queen's money! I instantly loved the movie and watched it twice before returning it. I then went online and ordered a couple of the books that Bronson himself had written. It was here that I discovered that while the movie was gripping and moving, a lot of it was chronologically out of order, and some of the events were scrambled together like a chicken egg/ostrich egg omelet. It was kind of a pisser since I had loved the movie so much -- still do because Tom Hardy's performance is absolutely amazing.
While I could go on and on about the man's life in detail from what I know so far, there's more to my fascination than that. They did touch on in the movie the fact that Bronson was moved many times, but in his books you discover that he has literally been moved hundreds and hundreds of times -- insane but factual and documented.
Here's one of the big questions that everyone wants to know: is he really one of the most violent criminals in the history of Britain? A matter of opinion, though his proponents will tell you (accurately) that he has never killed anyone. Misleading though: he has tried to kill a couple of people and was either unsuccessful or ended up not going all the way through it.
A little background: as a young man of 22 (in 1974), Bronson was tried and found guilty for robbing a post office (armed) where he made off with £26.18. From there forward the rest is history, although for the sake of brevity I have cut out some details which you can catch up on at the Charles Bronson Wikipedia page as well as on the Free Bronson Website.
Bronson, formerly known by his birth name, Michael Peterson, took on the name Bronson when he was released from prison (the first time which lasted only 69 days) and became a boxer under the management of Lenny McLean who is depicted in the movie as totally fucking ridiculous and amazing with a certain swagger and way of speaking that is intriguing and hilarious.
Enough history. Back to why I love this man. I was obviously drawn in by the movie, the mustache, and every girl loves a bad boy, of course. But something deeper made me buy some of his books and I love them. He expresses himself fully and never censors his sins or his guilt for his crimes both in and out of prison. The honesty is enchanting -- I have always told myself internally and other writers I know that in order to write good shit you have to be willing to get naked on the page and be honest, otherwise it's a farce and not worth the reader's time. Charlie offers this in spades and it has endeared him to me.
There's his poetry, which I don't particularly care for because it all rhymes, which I hate in poetry. But the messages are clear: prison is a bitch, solitary confinement turns an already questionable character insane whether an inmate was as normal as you or I (minus the criminal acts, of course!) when they first entered solitary.
Between his mix-ups and constant moves, some due to bad behavior, some due to outside forces purposefully making an example of him and trying to keep him confused, he was sent to Broadmoor -- a prison hospital for the criminally insane that's been around since the days when people thought that epilepsy was a sign of a criminal element and a madman. This is where he was stamped certifiably insane and drugged with the types of pharmaceuticals that are no longer legal.
And now the part that perhaps draws me to him more than just about anything else, though it doesn't put him in the best light, and of course added months and sometimes years onto his sentence, nearly all of which have been in solitary.
The rooftop protests! Bronson has successfully pulled off eight of them. It's not that I approve or would stand behind any criminal for doing this. It's because of how he describes them himself. At one point in his first book, he describes his first jaunt to the rooftop. He notes that he hadn't seen the nighttime sky in eight years. He writes that seeing stars for the first time in nearly a decade settled his soul even though his stomach was empty and he was freezing to death -- as though this moment in his life will in some way always make him feel some fraction of peace within an ocean of regret and sadness. He describes seeing the nearby town from a bird's eye view, how some of the townspeople cheered him on while others called him names and, well, protested his protest. He came down eventually from exhaustion and hunger. He was forced to give up because of physiological needs and nothing else.
I'm obviously not a criminal, never been arrested, have no record -- by all legal accounts I am a good little girl. But life has not spared me moments of severe anguish, and a sort of solitary I've put myself into from time to time. I know it CLEARLY doesn't compare, but reading his work gives me hope -- if someone can survive more than 30 years in solitary and have the stillness of mind and intellectual presence to write about it, then goddamn it, so can I. It's the kind of thing that makes me look onto the reels of horrid moments in my life and have some modicum of hope.
And so yes, I am fascinated, and yes, I am intrigued, and yes, I want to meet him, shake his hand, interview him, and share a mutual smile with Bronson.
He's nearing the age of 60, and the clock is ticking. The Her Majesty's Prison system "uncertified" him insane and he now wears the label of sane in the records of his time inside. But he poses a great question in one of his books: how can you be certified mad and then uncertified? A pretty good point, but something I can relate to mentally. The events of my life have driven me crazy, and then I have walked away from those darkest moments and been born again. I guess you could say in some way I too have been uncertified in my own much more private way.
The opinions of others that suggest my fascination as an obsession will do nothing to sway me. Enough said.
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