Mimi Fariña & Bonnie Raitt |
In the spring of 1993, Mimi Farina, the founder and director of Bread & Roses, arrived on Alcatraz with an idea for a benefit concert. I lived on the island as a child and was there as a guest writer. The federal prison, by then empty, had once been the "godfather'"of penal institutions. Bread & Roses had for years brought entertainment to institutionalized people - some 400 shows a year. Now the group needed more visibility and money. The old prison was the perfect place to benefit the perfect organization.
But the logistics of an Alcatraz event were a nightmare. Parties there are arduous, expensive and ruled by National Park Service regulations. Everything - chairs, power, lighting, staging, security, food and water - has to be boated on and off the island before the next day's tourists arrive. Moreover, only the prison's dining room, which seats fewer than 400 people, could hold a concert. No one knew if Farina could pull it off.
Mimi was gracious, petite, dark, seemingly fragile - and determined. She, her small, paid staff and a horde of volunteers managed to pull off five concerts on Alcatraz between 1993 and 1997 - with Farina's sister, singer Joan Baez, as the headliner. Other performers included Bonnie Raitt, the Indigo Girls, David Grisman, Kris Kristofferson and Jon Hendricks.
I remember magical moments: Tourists on the dock that October day in 1993 who burst into applause when Baez got off the boat and walked onto the island. The conviviality of the Bay Area crowd, many of whom had paid between $125 to $200 to attend, some of whom had never visited the island. The way the drab prison dining room became warm and welcoming with a few spotlights and colored gel.
But one moment crystallized the meaning of what was going on - and for whom.
Jim Quillen, who had been in prison for 20 years and on Alcatraz for 10, sat in front of me that first night. After a childhood marred by alcoholism and a hot temper, Jim turned his life around, eventually got out of prison and became an X-ray technician and licensed practical nurse. Later, he wrote a book and returned to the island two days a week to talk about it. He seldom went up to the cell block itself though; it gave him the willies.
Now we were both sitting there as Farina introduced the "Prison to Praise Choir," a rollicking gospel group from San Quentin composed of former officers and prisoners. They were the perfect opening act - and they rocked. Quillen snapped around, his face lit up and he flashed the biggest smile I ever saw on the man.
Farina took an empty old prison and filled it with music, inspiration and joy to gather money so that others less privileged - in AIDS wards, prisons, convalescent homes and mental hospitals - could feel the same joy.
After a long illness, Farina died of cancer at her Mill Valley home on July 18. She was 56. But in her too brief life, she freed many souls -- too many to mention here -- from the prisons of the mind, and body, that we build to contain our fears.
Jolene Babyak's latest book is "Breaking the Rock, The Great Escape From Alcatraz" (Ariel Vamp Press).
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