The Whiskey Man Returns to the Dungeon - An Interview with Attila Ambrus

Attila Ambrus needs no introduction: in the 1990s, as “The Whiskey man,” the notorious bank robber spent 13 years in prison, and once even managed to escape from behind bars. On June 7, the Whiskey Man will once again arrive at the Visitor Center at Várbörtön in Veszprém, where the exhibition titled The Human Behind Bars will explore the issues of crime and punishment during a special guided tour of the exhibition.

Following the tour, Attila Ambrus will share his experiences and insights during a personal conversation. In this context, we asked him, among other things, about the names of the wines and about starting over.  

A long time has passed, and now I’m wiser, and if I were to accidentally step into the same stream again, I’m sure I’d cut the media out of my life. I ended up serving extra years because, although it was on my lawyer’s advice, I appeared in the media too much. We thought the media would serve as a kind of defense mechanism, but we were wrong. Now I know I shouldn’t have done it that way. 

Yes, I tried to use as little force as possible, but this is a crime in which the use of force is unavoidable, since it is a situation of necessity. I detained more than 300 people in various locations over six years, most of whom had no idea whether they would be going home to their families that evening or not. They had no assurance that I wouldn’t shoot them, just as they did in the Mór massacre. This is a very serious psychological trauma, and, to make matters worse, there are still people who have lived through all of this and are filled with hatred. I partly understand the source of their hatred, but the problem is that if you live your life hating someone, you poison your own soul. 

I don’t want to encourage you to go rob a bank. I think that if you mess something up, it’s important to figure out how to fix it. For me, prison was a kind of therapy, because that’s where I got back on the “normal” track of life, since there were no rules before. When I was sent to prison, I realized that there, on the other hand, there were only rules.

There were many factors at play there. For one thing, I wanted to make a good impression on my girlfriend’s well-to-do family. But there was also the issue of my citizenship, as well as the general uncertainty following the regime change in the 1990s. 

Of course, it’s easy to be wise in hindsight, and today I see the world very differently in so many ways. Obviously, I was wrong about this; I made mistake after mistake, and now I know that this isn’t the solution. 

Sure. 

Seriously? Have a couple of vodkas, go home, and see what you're capable of.  

The answer is simple: there was no other option. When you’re seventeen years old, you have to think things through, because even if we measure time on an Olympic scale, that’s an incredibly long time. An entire generation grows up. The prison is a stimulus-deprived environment, so you have to do something with yourself inside, because otherwise you’ll go crazy. 

I think that the sense of achievement is very important in everyday life as well, but this is especially true here, since your world is so confined that anything you do well motivates you and keeps you moving forward.

When I started, I didn’t have a high school diploma, so I went back to school to get one, studied a trade, and graduated. In the meantime, I was given a studio where I could prepare exhibitions. I really felt that, thanks to all this, I was a useful member of the system. I didn’t specifically say “society” because I was clearly excluded from it, but within that small circle, I was an important person. Not just because I was doing community service, but because I had plenty of time to study, and I recognized the opportunity to use those years in a positive way. For me, prison life wasn’t about spending all day at the gym, playing chess or cards, then getting out and robbing the first person I saw. During my years in prison, I tried to refine my mind. 

One day, the prison warden came to see me and said that an OKJ-certified ceramics training program was starting, and he asked what I thought about it. I didn’t like the idea; I thought, “I’m the ‘national bank robber’”—I didn’t want to get my hands dirty. To which he replied that it was no problem, I still had eleven years left, I could just watch the wall.

Later, I was assigned to the workshop where I had previously trained, and from then on I was given free rein. I had a lot of work to do, but thanks to that, while the others spent the holidays sitting in their cells because they had no work, I was able to go down to the workshop to work. This was a huge privilege. 

You have to find what captures your interest, and it’s also a matter of luck what comes your way. In everyday life, too, we often come across new opportunities—not many, but certainly one or two. You have to recognize them; there’s no specific formula. Even now, I don’t know when my big opportunity will come my way, but I’m open to everything. That’s how I live; I can be pretty exclusive at times, and I have issues with many things in the world, but I respect everyone’s right to their own opinion, whether it’s political beliefs, religion, or faith. 

Of course, I’ll accept anyone’s opinion if they can convince me it’s true. However, in order to see it that way today, I had to go through the ordeal of learning to accept others and not immediately exclude them. For a very long time, I was angry at everyone: the judge, the prosecutor, my partner—there was always someone, some designated villain, whom I could blame. 

It wasn’t my accomplice, it wasn’t the prosecutor, and it wasn’t the judge—it was me who dug myself into this hole. This requires the kind of realization that allows you to face your own weaknesses, to reach the point where you don’t look for problems in others, but hold a mirror up to yourself. And if you can accept yourself, you can accept the whole world. 

The topic was obviously a given, and we could say it was right up my alley. Basically, I tried to formulate a definition of sin based on the distinctcultures and religious perspectives. The question arises: where did it start, and what is considered a sin in the first place? How does the concept of sin vary within a given society or micro-community? I also lead walking tours in Buda Castle, and I’ve learned a great deal about the subject there. In Hungary, for a long time, customary law prevailed under the Csemegi Code, rather than statutory law. Therefore, they tried to impose local customary law on everyone: if someone did not comply with the norms of that community, they were ostracized. They couldn’t get a job, couldn’t shop, and no one would buy anything from them. 

Yes, society has completely rejected that. Today’s world is very different from that; the “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth” ; today, we try to apprehend and hold accountable those who commit crimes through the law and legal regulations.  

Now that you ask, maybe it was when I first woke up on my own this morning, and didn’t wake up because someone turned on the light.  

I think that when you’re broke, you find out who your real friends are. When nothing is going right, you need a few people who will lend a helping hand. And you shouldn’t bite that hand—you should take it. I was lucky because there were a few people who reached out to me, and I lived by that, not took advantage of it. 

It was a real déjà vu. As a school principal, I would definitely bring the older kids here: not to scare them, but to confront them with the reality that if you go into the forest, it’s not just one bear that comes, but many; there’s nothing you can do—survival is at stake.  

Yes, I met with many groups at the Újhely Wine Cellar as well: schoolchildren, various university students, and even lawyers. From this perspective, the Dungeon in Veszprém is a curiosity and a unique place, because it is a historic site, and undoubtedly an imposing place, in both the good and bad senses. It is important that the prison not only serve as a cautionary tale, but also provide insight—even for children—into what should not be done. 

Of course, mainly because once a kid ends up in prison, it’s very difficult from that point on. Anyone who ends up in a juvenile detention center goes straight from there to an adult prison. The Vár Prison is now only special and its history, because these historic sites have a certain nostalgia attached to them. For example, if you ask the average person to name ten movies, six to eight of them will surely be gangster films or something related to crime.  

They are interested in what we say they didn’t dare to do because of their upbringing. In a prison museum, you’re confronted with the conditions prisoners lived under in the old days. You walk in, and that’s where the problem begins: there’s no doorknob inside the cell. And that can be very unpleasant when you have to go into a place you can’t get out of. 

Of course, over the course of ten to thirteen years, certain habits become ingrained. I always sit down so that I’m facing the door and can see the doorknob. 

Actually, there’s a sort of preventive aspect to this. If you make a mistake, this is what awaits you. Go ahead, take a look. Do you need this? Obviously, you can spend a few months just staring at the wall. You’ll be talking to yourself in the meantime. There are depths and heights. There are places where they charge money for this and call it meditation.

They regulate everything that a normal person cannot tolerate in the long run. According to statistics, eight to ten years is the point at which experts say you’ll start to experience personality distortion. You get out, you come out, and eventually you start longing to go back to prison. 

Yes, because inside, in prison, you’re just someone. A warehouse worker, a kitchen hand, an important cog in the system. When you get out, you’ll be just another ex-con. You might say, “Okay, I’ll hit someone over the head, go back in, and be part of the action.” Of course, that leads nowhere, but these programs I’m running are all about giving a little glimpse into that world, which is otherwise mysterious, closed off, and makes many people shudder.

As I mentioned, your network of relationships—your family and friends—is very important. It’s crucial that when you’re in trouble, there’s someone who’ll genuinely help you. Unfortunately, the system and the government are ill-equipped to reintegrate you. To achieve this, you have to do a lot yourself, and the community also needs to be willing to welcome you back.

There you are, with a criminal record, no proof of good character, and no clothes; in the worst-case scenario, you have nowhere to live and nothing to eat. So the question arises: what next?

This is a hard-and-fast statistic: I believe that nearly 80 percent of prisoners in Hungary reoffend after their release. For example, I met only one man in prison whose wife waited for him after seven years. In thirteen years, just one. Those were different times; women waited for their husbands to return from the war, but today it’s a completely different world.  

Relationships have changed. We replace everything. If it’s no good, we throw it away. The problem is that the world has sped up so much, and we devour impulses so voraciously, that sooner or later we stop waiting and walk away. That’s what life is all about.  

Of course, it’s hard to say anything completely new, but I think it’s important to introduce people to this subculture because it’s part of our lives. Anyone can get involved. I always say there are two kinds of people: those who are sitting and those who will be sitting. Think about it: one day you’re driving and you hit someone. Trouble can happen at any time, whether on a sudden impulse or through bad luck. I’m not saying everyone will end up in jail someday, but if you have the chance to see what awaits you inside, you might think twice about, say, getting behind the wheel while intoxicated.  

The background is very important. The school, and the environment in which the child lives. But when a kid does something wrong, they never start by immediately pointing a gun at someone else; there are always warning signs. They say that those who lie steal, those who steal do other things, and those who steal also kill. So this is part of a process. Parents need to recognize the point at which they must stop the child, the point beyond which they cannot go.

For example, when I go to schools to give a talk, I usually start by asking anyone who has ever stolen something to raise their hand. I’m always the first to raise mine. I’ve stolen. Today I realize that this leads nowhere. Well, actually, it leads to prison. Parents need to recognize these small signs, because they are definitely visible. This is where a parent’s responsibility comes into play—how closely they pay attention to their kid.  

This is a very complex issue, and it’s not just about the parent, but also about the kind of social circle you allow them to be a part of, who their friends are, and what rules you set. Vekerdy also said that there always needs to be a framework within which kids can operate, but I’m the one who sets that framework. Within that framework, everyone has their own freedom, but the parent must set the rules.  

Basically, I’m thinking in very short-term terms right now, but if we look at the longer term, I’d like to live a few more years and see my kids grow up. That’s the most important thing.

No, and I don’t know what I’m going to tell them. I’m sure I’ll tell them what I did, but I’m afraid I won’t seem credible to them. This is a very serious dilemma in my life, because I don’t know to what extent I’ll be able to hold them accountable on any level, regarding anything. Kids can be very honest and cut right through you. So this is a very serious challenge for me, because once you mess something up, from that point on, the kid sees right through you, and you can’t explain that you mean well, because they think you’ve messed up your own life too. It’s another matter that I’ve made amends for my mistakes to some extent, but because of my past, many people still put me on a shelf, and I don’t know what to do about that. 

Basically, I’ve built a brand around this, and I think it’s still much better than stealing. I don’t hurt anyone; I try to make quality products, I don’t rummage through other people’s pockets—I create value. I think I represent a profession that evokes the world of a bygone era. It’s like teaching Latin. There are very few potters who believe in this and can actually make a living from it. Thank goodness, knock on wood, I can. Besides that, there are various visits, walks in Buda, and whiskey evenings. I read a lot on the subject, and I travel to Ireland and Scotland, because in order to be able to talk about all this, I need to be prepared, and not everything is in the books.