(playful music) - [Presenter] Welcome everyone to Penny Stamps Distinguished Speaker Series.

(audience applauds) - Hello, everyone.

I would like to begin by quoting from someone who had been quite inspiring in my life, MLK, Martin Luther King, when he mentioned that the ultimate measure of a man, it's not where he stands at a time of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at a time of controversy and challenges.

And what you have before you is someone who have been through many adversities as well as challenges, and fortunately was able to weather and withstand those adversities and who was able to make the best out of a terrible situation.

And I contribute that to not only having a great mother... How many of you in here mothers?

I know many of you are very young, and, well, during the time when this incident happened to me, I was 16 years old, I just made 16, and I had a very normal life.

Despite the time back in the '70s, I consider my life to be quite normal.

And I, like many of you, I look forward to the future and you know, what you see before you as an individual that inspired to be, you can say, to go, you say, to go to the military, I wanted to be a fighter pilot, but although I never had a chance to fulfill that dream, I, in turn, experienced other things that became a part of my life, and never knew that one morning, that October morning, that I would wake up where my whole life would change.

And you know, I looked forward to going to school.

Although I wasn't the smartest kid at school, but you know what?

I wasn't a dullest knife in the kitchen cabinet either.

You know, and...

But I loved going to school and I loved the kids, at least the students that I went to school with, despite the controversy that we had at that time at school, that I felt that it was important to get an education.

And plus, I come from a family, my mother always emphasized, you know, take advantage of getting an education because who knows where it may lead you.

But that day, October 7th, it led me into a world I never knew that I would visit.

And imagine waking up one morning, and your whole life in the middle of the day changes.

Yes, as Aliyah mentioned, I mean, Leah of course, that I was falsely accused of murdering a fellow student at a school, and I didn't know the victim.

And, you know, my prayers goes out to the family, because that day was a very tragic day, where not only a young person lost his life, but you had a young kid who lost his as well.

And my life has never been the same afterwards.

And you know, I set before you and I tell you my story because who else gonna tell it?

If I don't tell you my story, yes, my case have been reported not only nationally, but also internationally, and the things that I was going through, they reported that.

But you know, many people didn't know that the life that I lived was a very unique life in prison.

You know, I was sent to one of the worst prison in the nation at that time, Angola.

How many of you are aware of the prison Angola in Louisiana?

Let me tell you, it is everything that you done read and more.

Almost 72 hours after I was put on death row, it was midnight and I heard this scream.

It was so sickening, I thought it was on a tier that I was on.

So I got out the bunk and I went to the boss.

And back then, you know, you have this toothbrush with broken mirror on the end of it where you can look down a hall and see what's going on.

And I looked down the hall, and the scream, as though, it was right there on a tier.

But suddenly I saw this flash above me and I saw it disappear and I focused and it came again.

And before me there was this guy engulfed in flames.

Another prisoner got gasoline and threw on his guy and set this guy on fire.

That was the most horrifying thing I was able to witness while in prison, knowing that I was sentenced to die, and this happening in this place, who knows that it could happen to me.

And that was quite terrifying for me.

And I knew right then and there that I could no longer think like a child.

I had to start thinking like a man.

And lo and behold, the guys that was on the tier with me, they knew all about my case and they knew that I needed help.

They knew that I was gonna be able to survive this prison life, unless they helped me.

And despite the horrible things that you heard about the prison itself, I was around men.

They were like giants.

I was around men.

It's like they was built for war.

These guys was buffed.

These guys had war scars all over their body, even their faces.

And it was hard to look at them straight because it was like you afraid that you may offend them.

But you know, behind that facade was men with tender hearts, was men who had left behind families because they made bad decisions in their lives that led them to prison.

Men, when they looked at me, I was no threat to them.

I was this little kid in adult prison weighed no more than 100 pounds around men that weighed mostly 250 to 300 pounds and probably could bench press me or curl me at any time.

But those guys saw me.

And you know what they saw?

They didn't see a threat.

They saw their son, they saw their little brother, they saw their nephew and their neighbors' child.

We are talking about men who fought and almost died to stay alive in prison, was willing to put their lives on the line for me.

Those men became my protectors in prison.

Those men became like surrogate fathers in prison of mines, even uncles and big brothers, men who was able to put their differences aside and work to make sure that nothing happened to me, just like what happened to this guy on the next tier that was above me.

And you know what?

Later on I got to know that guy.

Miraculously he survived those burns, third degree burns.

And even a guy that set him a fire.

And you know, as they say, you live by the sword and you die by the sword.

This guy, Joe Chase, who set this guy on fire later died from a horrible death from another prisoner.

But you know, those guys in prison gave me the best of themselves.

They made sure that I didn't conform or I didn't capitulate to the negativism of prison life.

They kept me straight because they told me that this was not a place for me.

This is not a place that I belongs.

And that for me to follow their lead in reference to the life that they live was in my life that I need to focus on getting outta prison.

And you know what?

They made sure that I follow that narrow and straight path, until many years later these guys have gotten older, frail, and sickling.

And by that time I became a hospice volunteer.

And I was a hospice volunteer for 17.5 years.

And these guys selected me to take care of them because they knew me.

They felt comfortable with me.

They knew they had enemies, and in most cases, the enemies had went home, died or probably was in another prison somewhere.

But these guys was particularly about who they allow to take care of them.

And never once did my mind ever fathom that I would bathe, feed, or wipe another men's butt.

But after under the care of those guys, they kept me grounded.

They helped me maintain my humanity to where when it came up to me taking on that responsibility.

I took, I mean, I was one of the first in line to become one of the hospice volunteers.

And to have those guys tell me on their dying bed how proud they were of me because they saw their making, they saw what they could have done as fathers, if they wouldn't have been in prison.

But to help me, they felt a sense of redemption.

Those guys gave me the best of themselves, even to the point where when it came down to me leaving maximum security, I was confined in the cells almost 10 years.

I've grown accustomed.

Those guys had become my family.

And when it came down to me being classified out of maximum security, I didn't want to go anywhere.

I didn't wanna leave my family.

And I was adamant about staying in the cell, because I knew these guys.

But you know, when I went to CCR and death row, those guys was in maximum security then and they was in there for eight to 10 years.

And fast forward, me being there for almost 10 years, man, I've been there for almost 20 years.

And when they heard about, I was offered the opportunity to be released out of the cells, they talked to me, say, "Gary, when you came to Angola, I was here in this cell, and if I was given an opportunity to be released, I would be taken on that.

I mean, I want out of the cells."

Can you imagine being in a nine by eight cell where your life is just crammed up in between four walls?

Really, three walls and bars in front of you?

I hope you never have to experience that.

That's not a pleasant life to live for that many years in the cells.

But those guys told me, "Gary, you've been here.

You don't know how things are down the walk," in which case they mean main prison.

You need to give yourself a chance to go down there to see how things are.

Mind you, as I mentioned earlier, these guys gave me the best of themselves and not knowing at that time, they gave me the very survival skills that I needed to make it in prison.

So when they told me, said, "Listen, you leave maximum security, if you don't like it, they'll send you back."

And you know, when he told me that, it was like a light, a bright light popped off in my head.

You right, I can go down there.

If I don't like it, I can go back.

It was like going on a vacation.

But do you know when I left those cells, I never went back.

I was out of the cells for over 30 years.

And the things that they taught me manifested when I was released into the general population.

They prepared me.

They prepared me to make the best out of a bad situation.

I got involved in prison activities.

First organization that I turned was the drama club.

True, I had a lot of drama in my life, yes, but to become an actor?

No, I didn't think I was suited for that.

But when I joined the organization, they had public speaking, and in public speaking, you gotta get in front of a group of guys that you don't know and you either gotta tell your life story or tell something about you or you gotta stand in front of them and pretend to be a banana and peel yourself.

(audience laughs) And you know, that was a method of you riddin' yourself of fears that you have and speaking in front of an audience.

But you know, from the beginning I was terrible at it.

I thought it was silly, childish.

But you know what?

I learned that it was beneficial.

I learned that the finest quality of a man is his ability to be able to express himself whether through words or acting.

And I'd harnessed that skill until I became the president of the drama club.

And now, that is something that in prison probably would be a burden, because do you know that I had to deal with so many men and so many personalities, I had to deal with men that was traumatized.

I had to deal with men that couldn't read or write.

I had to deal with men that felt that the world was against them.

But I felt the same way.

But as the president, I had to separate myself to be able to deal with these men issues to where I had to tell them, true, you in prison for possibly for something that you did, possibly for something that you didn't do.

But I'm not here to judge you.

But let's not let what happened to you in your life define you for the rest of your life.

That you still can live a life in prison.

That this is an opportunity for you to make a change in your life.

And do you know, they believed it.

I had guys in my organization, lemme say this, that I had a equal opportunity organization.

I got the worst or the worst in prison.

Matter of fact, guys that was involved in other organizations, guys that security, the prison themselves had problems with.

Do you know, they sent 'em to my organization?

Yeah.

Any men that in there would tell you that I had to deal with the worst.

And I was able to develop a method of dealing with these guys to where they respected me to the point where they listened to me.

You know why?

Because I made it my responsibility to, when they had problems, we talked the problems out.

When they needed a ear, for someone to listen, I gave that ear.

They needed someone to tell them that what they were doing, they was headed for a car wreck.

And I told them that if you wanted to become a drama club member, then you have to follow my rules.

And my rules was that you could miss too many call outs.

Now when I say too many, if you think it's T-O, T-O-O, or T-W-O, if you miss too many without having an excuse, meaning that only excuse that I had was gave you was that if you didn't work overtime at work, if you wasn't in the hospital.

or if you didn't have a duty status saying that you cannot leave the dormitory, then you gotta have a death certificate.

For that's the only way that I'm gonna give you excuse.

And you know, they loved that when I talked to 'em like that because they knew that I invested in them because those guys that I met invested in me and those guys listened to me.

And those guys gave me the best of themselves.

And I in turn gave them the best of who I was.

And you know, that was something I used to always tell them, you may respect me when I'm here 'cause you know, I'm not gonna put up with the foolishness.

But when I'm not here and whoever stands before you, you have an obligation to listen to that person.

Because if you have to stand before the group and lead the group because of my absence, then you would want them to respect you.

So respect man who comes after me, because you know, I used to travel a lot in the public and sometimes I didn't come back to the prison until eight, nine o'clock that night.

And my guys met on the Wednesdays in the education building and I used to stop and go there.

And I used to walk in the room, sit down like I was one of them, and let the guy continue to run things.

And I used to tell them that the drama club is not a democracy, it's a dictatorship.

These guys loved it, because they were able to talk, they were able to have someone to talk to them like it was their father.

Just like those guys that I met was my surrogate fathers and uncles and big brothers, I became the same thing to them.

I became their fathers, their big uncles, their big brothers, to where they confided in me.

They believed in me.

And you know what, you talking about talent.

Many of these guys didn't realize, until they got in the drama club, that they had something in them.

That these guys was able to not only act, sing, dance, rap, these guys became good playwrights.

I had guys that was functional illiterate that couldn't read or write.

Within six months, these guys was literate to the point where they was writing their own monologues.

And we always say that we don't move as fast as the slowest man in the organization.

And as I mentioned, I was only giving them what was given me.

Now, not but once, did I taken my (indistinct) of freedom.

Oh, I maintain that, 'cause I used to tell 'em all the time, "You gonna miss me."

And the reason I told them that is because you depend on me now, but when I'm not here, who you going to depend on then?

So it is for your best interest to do the best you can while you are here to where you are able, at least, confident enough to interact with security, because you know this thing about inmates and security, that's a no-no.

And they felt that if you interact with security, then you gotta be a rat.

You gotta be telling something.

And you know, I had to deal with that issue with the guys in my organization because when it came down to during the play, "The Life of Jesus Christ" play, there was a character in the play that nobody wanted to do it.

You know who that was?

Judas.

Nobody wanted to be Judas.

Judas was a rat.

Judas was a traitor.

Judas turned against Jesus.

And they didn't want to touch that.

They wanted to be every other character in the Bible.

And I tell them that "Why you wanna focus on every other character when you have something that's in common with Judas?"

And they say, "How is that?"

I said, "Well, when your parents brought you into this world, they gave you the best of themselves.

They forced a life for you because they wanted you to have the best of things that they weren't able to have when they was growing up.

And do you know what?

You betrayed them when you went out there and made decisions when they was able to tell you, 'Think on your own.'

When they able to tell you the way things before you react.

But you allowed peer pressure to get the best of you, and you acted out.

And when you did that, you went against everything that your parents taught you."

I said, "Now who's the worst, you or Judas?

Because you portrayed your family."

And you know what?

They understood that.

And I had guys want to challenge that, the role, but also, you know, I had to use reasons.

I had to use whatever tool that was available to rationalize with these guys, because these guys depended on me.

And they thought I was joking when I told them that "You're gonna miss me when I leave."

Because that day when I left, many of 'em cried, grown men cried.

Of course, I should have tell myself because I was leaving guys that I knew.

Guys that trusted me, believed in me.

But it was my time to leave.

I was in prison for almost 42 years for something I didn't do.

I watched people go home, people come back to prison and I'm fighting, fighting, fighting.

And I went, the courts, you know, turning me down.

I went to the court, the court overturned my conviction, ordered a new trial, then it come right back and overturn that decision.

I got three pardon board decisions, and the governors wouldn't touch it, because it was a political football to them, didn't want to hurt their career.

And the court ruled that I received a final mentally unfair trial.

And I was denied due process of law, meaning that my constitutional rights were violated.

But due to a lawyer's failure to object to a jury instruction that left them powerless to order my release.

Can you imagine that?

I had to carry that burden on my back, because my parents, poor as they were, were able to hire an attorney and then find out later on that this attorney was a divorce attorney, never tried a criminal case or a capital case in his career.

And my father, as a young man, 56 years old, died working three jobs to support the family and also me in prison.

And he loved me.

My father and mother was there the night that the police officers almost killed me in the substation.

They beating me so horribly until, I mean, they almost disfigured me.

And I remember when I saw this movie, "Till," his mother went to the mall and how horrified she was and where she couldn't believe what happened to her son.

And if you saw that movie, you saw where she couldn't, where she went to touching her son from his feet all the way to his head.

And that reminded me of my mother, when my mother walked in her room and she screamed and she saw what happened, how bad these people had beaten me.

A child.

Grown men had taken advantage of beating a child, didn't care whether I live to die.

But I survived it.

I survived it.

And many people asked, "Were you bitter?

Did you hate the people that what they've done to you?

Were you vindictive?"

Lemme tell you, I was mad.

I was bitter.

I got to the point where I didn't even like white people, because I felt that they all had a part to do with it.

But you know, they always tell you that your emotions are to serve you and not to govern you.

And at that time I was young, immature, and didn't understand the magnitude of what really happened to me.

But in prison, being around those men who educated me and liked me to where I was able to understand what happened, what happened to me, and why, what happened at that school.

I didn't understand busing for where it was about.

You don't force kids in the neighborhood that is not welcome on people who's not willing to accept it at that time.

There were so many mistakes that the system made, until they created that situation to where a child died and I became a victim.

But I didn't go through life declaring that I'm a victim.

There's a time when you gotta stop saying that you're a victim.

You gotta take ownership and move forward.

And that's what I did.

I realized that not only my family, my neighbors, the community that I was raised in was out rallying my behalf, that there was also whites who saw the injustice in my case, people who realize that this system, once again, once again was victimizing people, as they would say, that was the least of them.

I would like to add the question, in which case just raise your hands and all.

You probably doing question and answer, you might be able to, we might be able to elaborate on that.

But you know that in the '80s and '90s, I got a great deal of support from students from Ann Arbor, Michigan State, university of Michigan here?

Yes, I had a great deal of support from people in this area.

So it is an honor to be here.

(audience applauds) And that itself, along with the moral support that I was getting from people throughout the world, kept me going.

It was able to sustain me along with everything else.

My struggle made me who I am today, that I could stand before you and tell you about me.

My life wasn't easy, but I was able to make the best out of a bad, horrible situation.

And you know, when people really get to know you, when people really begin to come around and say, "Hey, wait a minute, something is wrong with this picture."

They go out their way to show you how sorry they are and how they support you.

That was a campaign in Baton Rouge to where there was Our Lady of the Lake that was going around prisons trying to get a match for a young kid by the name of... Wow.

Slipped my mind.

But he was 12 years old, Nicholas.

And he was suffering from a bone disease, blood disease really.

And they were going around hoping that they can find a match.

That's how desperate they became that they went to the prison.

And you should never count prisons out because they are human beings.

There are still people that one time or another gonna be a part of our community whether you like it or not.

When I went to prison, there was 300,000 people incarcerated in this country.

Do you know, there's over two point, what?

2.3 million people now.

It's tripled.

Those are people that are out of our communities.

Those are people right down the streets, our neighbors from each other, those are people in our families.

So we should never count those people out.

They can be a real asset to our community, and making a difference.

They smart just like everybody else.

Give 'em opportunity.

Nonetheless, they came to prison to try to find a match.

And one of the nurses that was there, she asked the guy that was over the prison magazine, Wilbert Rideau, "Do you know Gary Tyler?"

And Wilbert said, "Yes, I know Gary.

He's a real good friend of mines."

She said, "How he's doing?"

And Wilbert said, "Gary's doing okay."

She said, "Yeah."

She said, "If there's any possibility I'll be able to meet Gary?"

Wilbert said, "Yes, when you gonna be back this week?"

She said, "I'm gonna be back next week," in which case next Wednesday.

And she said, "Good."

She said, "He'll be able to be up here, Gary?"

Wilbert said, "No problem."

So when Wednesday came, Wilbert called me and look, I'm walking in the A building, it's the visiting shade.

Here, I'm walking, going up where I see Wilbert behind, I see Wilbert talking to some people and I saw heads turn my way.

And it was this woman, this white woman, she start charging up there where I was at.

Now mind you, in prison, I am the power lifting champion of the prison.

They called me Big G. - [Attendee] Ow!

- Ow!

(laughs) And I saw this woman charging up there where I was at.

And do you know, I had doubts in myself, (audience laughs) if this woman gonna come and attack me, tackle me, whatever, I didn't know who this woman was.

I had forgot in my mind about this, you know, there was a woman that wanted to come see me, but if you would've saw this woman charging, you would've said, she mad at somebody.

(chuckles) But she come charging me.

And what I did, I braced, I braced for myself.

So she come pummeling on me.

You understand?

And I would just have to take it, you understand?

But you know what?

This lady ran up there and she did this number.

And hugged me, little old woman, I mean, couldn't get her arms around me, of course.

But she held me.

And you know, this woman cried and she told me, she said, "Mr. Gary Tyler, I wanna apologize to you for everybody in St. Charles Parish, because what we'd done to you was wrong.

Never once did we look at you as one of our own.

You was a child when this happened.

And we was wrong for what we'd done to you."

That's what she told me.

And do you know all the ill feelings and all the doubts that I had about the people of St. Charles Parish left me.

I felt cleansed.

It's like I no longer had that doubt that people felt ill about me.

Of course, I know that was, I mean, people, I mean, you always gonna have the nay-sayers.

But I felt relieved to hear this person, a stranger, tell me that.

You know, and we talked, and, of course, I felt disappointed that I wasn't a match, you know?

But, three weeks later, Nicholas died.

But the prisoners rallied to come up there hoping that there would be a match for Nicholas.

You know?

So prison can be quite rewarding.

And if I could turn back the hand of time about what happened, you know, I'm at that stage in life to where I would say, why, I didn't like what happened.

I didn't like the fact that I lost my grandmother, my grandparents, I mean, and my mother, my father, some of my siblings, aunt and uncles.

I didn't like that.

But just sometime, they always say, be mindful what you asked for.

Because if it was a way that they could turn back the hand of time, who would've said that you'll be here today?

Because anything can happen to you.

You could die during birth, you can be hit by a car, you can die in a plane crash and a car crash.

Anything could happen to you.

But I survived.

I survived in one of the worst place in the country.

So would I trade that experience?

I guess not.

'Cause it probably wouldn't have felt better for me , if given a second chance.

So no, I got to the point where I'm happy, not thrilled about it, but I'm happy, you know?

And sometimes you gotta take the good with the bad.

And also, you know, in prison I became not only an actor, a quilter, but you know, people tend to write things about their experience.

They become poets.

How many of you in here poets, write poems and everything?

Alright, I see you.

I was one of those too.

And sometimes, you know, you reflect on your past life about possibly, maybe, what-if, there's a piece that I wrote in 1988 and you know what that piece called?

"Wanna Be."

And it goes like this.

There was a time that I wanted to be something or somebody only a child could have thought of being.

I always thought of being somebody else, not realizing that I was somebody myself.

I fantasized that there was something in the making for me, that I would be the person I wish to be.

And that was somebody but me.

I wanted to be the heroic figure that appeared on TV, not knowing as a child that the characters were fictitious and didn't exist.

As I got older, my role models were people of questionable characters, gangsters, pimps, and gigolos.

They were well regarded in the neighborhood as somebody to be by youngsters like me.

After going through trouble time as a youth, reform school and prison, it was clear, yes, it was clear that there was something wrong with the outcome of my life.

I no longer wanted to be like the people I wish to be.

I realized that I wanted to be me, not in prison, but free.

(audience applauds) You go through changes, and it is always best to record your experiences because who knows that one day somebody might read about it or read it, it may inspire other people.

And I just felt that it was important that I do some things that would make a difference in other people's lives, because men had began to trust me.

Men had told me that if there were men like me in their communities at the time they were growing up, possibly, they wouldn't be in prison.

That resonated with me, because we have men that didn't have fathers, didn't have uncles that was able to tell them the life that they were living was wrong.

When I was growing up, I had uncles, I mean I had a father, I had people in my life, I had a big family.

If you know how large my family was, you'll say God would miss that family.

To come from a family where my grandmother, brace for it, brace for it, my grandmother had 32 children.

(audience gasps) Yes, 32.

And in the family of that large you subject of having someone that made something outta themselves, like Robin Gibbons, Curtis Mayfield and Mystikal, the rapper out in New Orleans are my family members.

And, you know, and later, by me being a hospice volunteer and becoming a quilter, that was the furthest thing from my mind, believe me, a man in prison making quilts.

That's feminine.

Many people know me from being Big G, this big old buff guy, and he's in there and big quilts.

What's wrong with him?

Is he okay?

(chuckles) And I was worried about the impression that it would give.

But later, you know, after the guys, my friend that was in the program convinced me to help them, and, you know, I gave in, I said, "I'm gonna help you this time.

Alright, I'm gonna help you again.

I'm gonna help you again" to the point where they didn't have to ask me because I started having this, they call this, moment of flashback to where I remembered as this little kid that my grandmother, I used to see my grandmother at this old machine and she used to have this foot pad on the machine, she used to do that sewing, making quilts for the family.

I had the flashback.

Then I remember my mother, she used to get these Sears and Sears, Roebuck and JCPenny catalog, and she used to get the section where they had the patterns where women could make clothing and stuff.

My mother used to do that.

I don't realize, this is in my DNA, and I kind of like relaxed, but you know, I still was kind of like shy of letting people know at the time outside, you know, that I was making quilts.

Nonetheless, I started wearing it on my shoulder by making quilts, because every quilt that I made sold, and they wanted me to do replicates of it.

And I told 'em I don't do duplicates.

And only because I didn't like how cheap they was selling our works.

And the idea came about making money for the dying men in prison.

And here you got me, I have a job and require my presence.

And then afterwards I'm spending time in the quilting shop making quilts, and I put a price on it, for what?

For 400, $500, sometimes $700.

And they get it.

They were selling out of course for $85 to $100.

Now who's being robbed?

And I got really pissed off about it.

Not that I stopped making quality quilts, it's just that I wouldn't do duplicates.

And I was praying that I'd get the hell outta Angola soon because I had a lot of people in the administration pissed off at me, because I wouldn't make quilts for their friends, for their family members.

I wouldn't do that.

But of course they wouldn't touch me because many people like me, even the wardens themselves, we were talking about wardens who, when I first went to Angola, they were khaki backs.

What I mean by that, that they were men who just started working at Angola as 17, 18, 19 years old.

And we grew up together in prison.

They watched me grow up and I watched them move up in ranks, until where they became the wardens, the assistant wardens.

And one in particular was a classification officer named John P. Whitley.

He was a classification officer.

He was this hippie guy, long hair, beard in the south, working in Angola.

That's out of context there, because you in the south.

Eventually he left.

But you know, this man came back many years later as the warden.

And he inquired about, what was I doing, you know, if I was still in prison.

And Wilbert told him, "What, Gary upstairs, and Gary working with his group," said, "Group got Gary, president of the drama club."

And he said, "Really?"

He said, "Yes."

"Do you think Gary would have a problem me come sitting in his rehearsals?"

"Ooh," would say, "no.

Matter of fact, I'll go ask Gary."

So Wilbert came up there, wave from out there and you know, and Wilbert said, "Warden Whitley would like to know could he come in and sit down in your rehearsals?"

I said, "Yeah, he come in here."

So the warden went, 10 minutes later, warden come up there and opened the door and he sat right down next to me.

You understand?

We talked, I told the guys, I said, "Hit the floor."

And they started performing.

And you know what this warden did?

He turned to me and he said, "Gary, do you have any plans of what you wanna do with these plays?"

And I said, "Well, yes, warden."

I said, "I would like to create a traveling troop where we can be able to go to schools, universities, and festivals around the state where we can be able to show people that there's something good that could come out of prison."

And he said, "Hmm, you know, that's possible."

And in my mind, I would say, "Really?"

Because he remembered as a classification officer, used to have inmates going around the state, you know, speaking to kids around the state, schools and stuff like that.

And here I'm asked, talking about a troop of men performing at schools and everything.

And you know what?

He made it possible.

He told me, he said, give him a list of men that I trust to go on the streets.

I gave him this list, and they made all those guys class A trustee, where they became statewide trustee, where they were able to travel throughout Louisiana, the state of Louisiana.

And we went all over through the state of Louisiana and we made an impact, even to the point where we made ABC News.

And we also made the Reader Digest, a very conservative booklet.

And yes, and we was well received by the people throughout the state.

And, you know, we performed not only in public, but also we performed at different venues inside the prison itself.

But who made that possible was someone that remembered me when I first came to prison and they trusted me.

And they were the same people that if there was a problem, I can go to, in most cases, I went tell 'em about problems that prisoners was having with other free personnels.

And they listened to me, they was able to address those problems.

And that's one of the reasons why the guys themselves, you know, loved me.

They was crazy about me, because I spoke up for them even to the point where they stopped the disciplinary reports were down because security knew that these guys were part of my organization.

So that's the change that I was able to make and that anyone could make if they stay focused about trying to make a difference.

And like I mentioned, of course I wanted outta prison.

I witnessed a lot.

I've seen men murdered in prison and I've saw men died in prison, men that I took care in hospice.

And that been an awarding experience for me.

And I wouldn't trade that for nothing in the world.

And October 7th, well, not October 7th, but the (indistinct) of October, there will be a book coming out, a memoir about my life called "Stitching Freedom," because I felt compelled that I must tell my story.

And if anyone could tell it, I can.

And once again, I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming out and listening to my story.

And I hope that many of you have questions, because I understand sometimes people will like to ask questions, but they're ashamed or afraid or felt that coming in front of a mic, t hen they gonna be the center of attention.

But you gotta always remember, I'm the one that center of attention, (audience laughs) all eyes gonna be on me, not you.

So you don't have to worry about answering the questions.

I'm the one that be answering the questions.

You understand?

I just hope that what I said to you, stimulated you to where you want to ask me a question.

How I was able to weather this storm?

How I was able to turn out the way I did?

And you know what, I think came out on the best end of things because when I laid my head on that pillow, I sleep sound, I sleep good, because I was able to what?

Put the past behind me, and that what made me a better person in this whole ordeal.

Thank you.

(audience applauds) (audience murmurs) (audience murmurs)