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pistol shots ring out in the barroom night |
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enter patty valentine from the upper hall. |
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she sees the bartender in a pool of blood, |
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cries out, "my god, they killed them all!" |
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here comes the story of the hurricane, |
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the man the authorities came to blame |
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for somethin that he never done. |
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put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been |
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the champion of the world. |
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three bodies lyin there does patty see |
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and another man named bello, movin around mysteriously. |
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"i didnt do it," he says, and he throws up his hands |
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"i was only robbin the register, i hope you understand. |
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i saw them leavin," he says, and he stops |
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"one of us had better call up the cops." |
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and so patty calls the cops |
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and they arrive on the scene with their red lights |
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flashin in the hot new jersey night. |
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meanwhile, far away in another part of town |
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rubin carter and a couple of friends are drivin around. |
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number one contender for the middleweight crown |
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had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down |
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when a cop pulled him over to the side of the road |
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just like the time before and the time before that. |
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in paterson thats just the way things go. |
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if youre black you might as well not show up on the street |
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less you wanna draw the heat. |
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alfred bello had a partner |
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and he had a rap for the cops. |
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him and arthur dexter bradley were just |
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out prowlin around |
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he said, "i saw two men runnin out, |
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they looked like middleweights |
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they jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates." |
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and miss patty valentine just nodded her head. |
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cop said, "wait a minute, |
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boys, this ones not dead" |
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so they took him to the infirmary |
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and though this man could hardly see |
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they told him that he could identify the guilty men. |
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four in the mornin and they haul rubin in, |
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take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs. |
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the wounded man looks up through his one dyin eye |
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says, "whad you bring him in here for? he aint the guy!" |
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yes, heres the story of the hurricane, |
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the man the authorities came to blame |
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for somethin that he never done. |
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put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been |
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the champion of the world. |
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four months later, the ghettos are in flame, |
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rubins in south america, fightin for his name |
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while arthur dexter bradleys still in the robbery game |
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and the cops are puttin the screws to him, |
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lookin for somebody to blame. |
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"remember that murder that happened in a bar?" |
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"remember you said you saw the getaway car?" |
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"you think youd like to play ball with the law?" |
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"think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin that night?" |
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"dont forget that you are white." |
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arthur dexter bradley said, "im really not sure." |
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cops said, |
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"a poor boy like you could use a break |
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we got you for the motel job |
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and were talkin to your friend bello |
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now you dont wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow. |
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youll be doin society a favor. |
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that sonofabitch is brave and gettin braver. |
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we want to put his ass in stir |
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we want to pin this triple murder on him |
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he aint no gentleman jim." |
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rubin could take a man out with just one punch |
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but he never did like to talk about it all that much. |
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its my work, hed say, and i do it for pay |
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and when its over id just as soon go on my way |
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up to some paradise |
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where the trout streams flow and the air is nice |
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and ride a horse along a trail. |
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but then they took him to the jailhouse |
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where they try to turn a man into a mouse. |
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all of rubins cards were marked in advance |
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the trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance. |
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the judge made rubins witnesses |
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drunkards from the slums |
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to the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum |
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and to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger. |
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no one doubted that he pulled the trigger. |
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and though they could not produce the gun, |
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the d.a. said he was the one who did the deed |
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and the all-white jury agreed. |
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rubin carter was falsely tried. |
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the crime was murder "one," guess who testified? |
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bello and bradley and they both baldly lied |
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and the newspapers, they all went along for the ride. |
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how can the life of such a man |
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be in the palm of some fools hand? |
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to see him obviously framed |
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couldnt help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land |
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where justice is a game. |
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now all the criminals in their coats and their ties |
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are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise |
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while rubin sits |
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like buddha in a ten-foot cell |
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an innocent man in a living hell. |
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thats the story of the hurricane, |
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but it wont be over till they clear his name |
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and give him back the time hes done. |
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put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been |
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the champion of the world. |