We won, 130-77. Fitz scored 37 points, nearly half his team's total output. He challenged us to another game, promising that "we'll beat y' all next time. I'll get some boys up here that can really give you a good game." The player who scored 77 points in the last game they played had been transferred to Concord Prison earlier that day.

Fitz is in jail for "attempting, uh, uh, attempting something," he stuttered when I asked him after the game.

"Attempting what?" I pressed.

"I got caught trying to walk off with this safe," he said sheepishly while wiping the sweat from his huge chest and arms.

"A safe? Man you're strong but you ain't no Hercules."

"It'd have been worth it if I had gotten away. It had 60 grand in it." He pulled on his shirt and shoes and grabbed his overcoat.

We laughed about Fitz's attempted feat of strength as he walked us down through the dark stairways and thick electronically controlled sliding doors to the front steps. We shook hands and Fitz headed, unescorted, for his room and we got into our cars and drove off.