That first meal after 36 years behind bars was as good as a gold album for Rick Stevens.
"Real food," he said. "In the pen, we call it fuel. That's all it was. Fuel, not food."
Today
is the six-month anniversary of Stevens' freedom, his parole signed off
by Gov. Jerry Brown after seemingly endless rejections by the state
parole board.
It was half his life ago that the former lead
vocalist for "Tower of Power" was convicted of one count of manslaughter
and two counts of murder after a drug deal horribly bad.
Only
the Supreme Court's decision eliminating the death sentence in
California saved Stevens, his punishment commuted to seven to life.
On
the inside, it was his status as singer for the Oakland funk group that
kept him alive, said Stevens, the smooth voice behind "You're Still a
Young Man."
Because of the case's publicity -- the Seattle Times
called it one of history's Top 11 Most Notorious Rock 'n' Roll Crimes --
"everyone knew I was coming" when Stevens arrived in prison.
"Music
served me well," Stevens said. "It was a blessing. I could walk among
the Crips, the Bloods, the Nortenos, the Skinheads, bikers."
Not that Stevens was impervious to those who may not have been one of his devoted fans.
"I've
had my back up against the wall. In prison, you might find yourself in a
cell with a guy who is a complete a-hole," Stevens said. "You don't sleep until you ask the guards if it's cool. Sometimes you have to ask for a 'cell swap.' A lot of times, that happened."
Stevens said he not only deserved the conviction, but the original death sentence.
"Absolutely,
he said. "It was fair. The jury found me guilty. I was ready for the
gas chamber. I said to them, 'I know this was not an easy decision for a
lot of you who felt I deserved it. I have no ill will toward you. God
bless you all. Thank you.'"
Stevens talked by phone earlier this
week, continuing his transition to freedom in Antioch where he lives
with his oldest son. Stevens makes his first publicized appearance
Thursday in San Francisco, delivering his trademark song on behalf of
autism awareness and The Voices of Latin Rock concert at Bimbo's.
Stevens
is a long-time friend of the event's other founder, Bernie Gonzales,
whose 12-year-old son has autism. The event, coordinated by Vallejo
residents Jeff Trager and Ron Sansoe, should show that Stevens still has
the pipes, Trager said.
"Rick did his time. And now he's back
singing one of the most requested Tower of Power songs in the group's 40
years," Trager said.
Emilio Castillo, the co-founder and
still-leader of TOP, said in 2002 that Stevens "was one of the greatest
singers that ever lived. If it hadn't been for the drugs, he'd have been
a star."
Though Stevens was a few years removed from departing
Tower when the murders occurred, his former colleagues were still
stunned when the shootings went down, Castillo said this week from his
Arizona home.
"We were all in total shock," Castillo said. "All of
us were hanging out with some pretty heavy hitters in the drug scene,
so stuff like that could happen at any time."Stevens served time in San
Quentin, Vacaville, Folsom, and the California Men's Colony in San Luis
Obispo. He did his last 21 years at Mule Creek State Prison in Ione.
Stevens read to pass the time. The Bible. The torah. The Koran. Daily newspapers. And watched PBS.
"It was an education," he said. "Some people study at Penn State. I studied at the state pen."
As
the warden's assistant at Folsom and "quasi counselor" for other
inmates, Stevens had a leash few prisoners had, much like Tim Robbins'
character in "The Shawshank Redemption."
"I saw it with a bunch
of guys in the penitentiary," said Stevens, incarcerated only a short
time when he saw the film. "It was an eye-opening experience. You make
the wrong move or say the wrong thing and you can get your head taken
off."
The film, Stevens said, "was on the money. There is just as much stupid stuff going on in prison as here (in freedom)."
Castillo and other Tower players reunited with Stevens at a Sacramento recording studio a few months after the singer's release.
"Really emotional," Castillo said. "He was very apologetic and I just told him that I was glad he was OK."
Castillo, as a born-again Christian, said he was "personally overwhelmed by the power of God."
Castillo last spoke with Stevens in 2008 in prison.
"I
was trying to get him a special leave to come and participate in our
40th anniversary DVD, but the prison wouldn't allow it," Castillo said.
Stevens said his 10 children from four marriages were never angry or bitter with their father.
"Unconditional love," Stevens said. "They saw the news and read the papers. I was always vocal about what happened."
Perhaps
the toughest part of incarceration was quitting drugs cold turkey when
Stevens first arrived. After three weeks, he was able to eat a candy bar
and keep water down. He started working out. He entered prison life at
150 pounds on his 5-foot-9 frame and emerged 36 years later a solid 170.
Still, "you always had to be aware," Stevens said. "Always look behind you."
A
movie about his life story is in the works by a Hollywood producer,
with Terrence Howard possibly in the lead role, Stevens said.
For now, he's looking to start a new band, new recording career, and a new life.
"I'd like another shot at the golden ring," he said. "One more gold record, one more platinum."
"Rick
is a really talented singer with a great presence and he has an
extremely unique story, so I think the sky's the limit," Castillo said.
No
matter how big a movie about his life could be or how well his music
career recovers, Stevens said he'll never erase what he did or its
memory.
"I'm sorry for what I did," he said. "I'll always remember it and it will always be with me."
One can't change history, Stevens said.
"It's all brought me back to this day," he said, laughing, "I'm still a young man."
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