When to offer a bribe ....sometimes a tough question.

My first blush with bribery happened on Nantucket Island the summer after my freshman year of college. On a whim I had gone to Nantucket after the eighth or so day after Dana Hall graduation. Our graduation party had traveled from Wellesley, MA to Greenwich, CT to New York City and then run out of steam. It was a hot day and a few of us decided to go to Nantucket to the beach. At that time, my memory is that the flight from New York cost about $12, which is about how much money I had left from my $50 graduation present.

There were, however, a few Dana girls on the Island and one was a year-rounder. We went to Sydney's house and her father offered me a job at his diner (Allan's Lobster Bar and Grill). I found a girl's boarding house to live in. This turned out to to one of the most fun places I have ever landed in. Wally and Anne owned this house by inheritance and they were grad students, so they rented rooms to pay the taxes and keep the house. In a way it was pretty much the lunatics running the asylum. A great time was had by all.

That was a magic summer. The diner was an insanely popular place with terrific food. It was on the wharf  where all the tourist boats landed. It was one of a few places open all year round so the locals all came. Everyone came. I made a ton of money working breakfast and lunch. The rest of the day was for beach, tennis, parties and more of the same. I bought a Vespa scooter for $50 and sold it at the end of the summer for $50. I went home missing the first few days of college because it was hard to leave the Island.

The next summer, the one in which I saw my first bribe pass hands, had a bit more edge to it. We were heavier drinking. A bunch of friends had come along with me. Some of them had a harder time getting jobs. We ended up in an illegal room in the basement of a laundry in the middle of town. The owner was an unpleasant man, but he gave work to my friends, folding laundry and delivering it to mostly renters around the Island.

It was a pretty horrible room, but we were outside at the beach or sailing pretty much all the time. We didn't care one way or another. That is until we had a rainy spell and we had colds and suddenly we were lying around talking about what a dump it was and what a rip off it was. So, we decided to decorate it. We bought a huge array of oil paints and painted pictures (real art) all over the walls and the doors and pretty much every surface. We thought two things. 1. At least it was clean. 2. It was really quite beautiful. The nasty landlord had no objections until one of my room mates started a little side business doing laundry for his customers cheaper. She started earning real money and he started losing business. "This is capitalism at its best", we thought.

It was almost Labor Day when he figured this out. He kind of freaked on us and called the police. We had an amusing chase over some rooftops and were finally brought in. He couldn't charge us with being better businessmen than he was so he charged 4 of us with "Willful and malicious destruction of property." (Our beautiful art) This charge was unfortunately a fellony charge.

A good/bad thing was that my parents were coming for Labor Day weekend to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Their honeymoon had been in Nantucket. Good-my parents were coming. Bad-I hadn't confirmed their room because we were in jail. Good- I needed my Dad. Bad-He was pretty pissed and I felt really bad about their weekend being ruined.

So, it was a holiday weekend. No court. Somehow, Dad managed to have a little talk with the judge. He was smoking a cigar dressed in a tee shirt and baggy pants with suspenders. He listened to my father and had us brought in the room...not a courtroom...this was all outside of the process. He listened carefully and said to my Dad, "I have been the judge here for a long time and in my recollection, no off-islander has ever won a case here."

My father, as straight a man as has ever lived, listened and then asked, "How much?" The judge answered as clear as day, "I would ordinarily ask a thousand dollars each, but I am feeling generous $2,500." I thought Dad would drop dead. That was a lot of money in 1963. He paid. He gave us all 'the look.' and over the next 5 months we all paid him back.

Now really, the only lessons we learned were that my Dad was a good guy, that no off-islander had a chance if they went to court and that this judge at least was up front about being bribed. (This was not a fine). Later in my life I would find it much more confusing deciding when to bribe and when not to. Also, I never again was told how much.  More on this subject anon.