MJ-Way

While walking out of seven block back through the administration building my colleague began talking about the prison farms and how the prison was very much self sufficient at one time. The farms produced beef, dairy, chickens, eggs, and pigs. They fed the inmates and prison staff with which could only be described in current terms as farm to table. I had heard stories about the farms and how large they were. I had heard the inmates were trained as meat cutters, cooks, bakers and in animal husbandry. My colleague confirmed that history. He also informed me that they did not have to buy anything from outside of the prison system. If they couldn’t make it or grow it, they didn’t need it. They also had factories to make furniture, clothes, shoes, and license plates. The furniture was used in state offices, prisoner cells, and prison offices. I actually had a chair and a desk that I used in my classroom for the 25 years I taught in corrections. That is either a testimony to how well the furniture was built or the fact that I didn’t sit much.

We proceeded to another part of the prison they called trustee-level one. It was there that the greenhouses were being operated. It was explained to me that only trustee-level one prisoners were allowed to run them. That designation meant that they were going to be going home soon , could be trusted to complete their tasks with intermittent supervision., and not try to escape. Although the later is what ended the prison farm program. Expecting a prisoner no matter how close to going home not to escape was unrealistic when presented the chance on a daily basis to do just that. When two escapees from the trustee-level one had escaped in the 1980s they killed a farmer and his wife. That incident and a number of other concerns from the immediate community would leave the prison administration an easy avenue for deciding to abolish the farms and make education of prisoners a higher priority. A good description of what they actually accomplished at the farms is depicted in the following article:

https://www.mlive.com/news/jackson/2014/06/peek_through_time_from_lush_ga.html

The greenhouses were of various construction. The newer ones had the standard visqueen and aluminum framing. The older ones actually had brick, cinder block and glass. All had furnaces, some fueled with wood burning stoves to help keep the costs of heating down in the winter. All the greenhouses were packed with plants. I was given 30 house plants to take back to my facility. Not having a greenhouse yet I would keep them in my classroom. My colleague informed me that they had a nursery where perennial plants grown at the other prison horticulture programs were kept and maintained. They would eventually end up in the landscape of Habitat For Humanity Homes. He informed me that I was welcome to grow plants for the Habitat Homes as well once we have a greenhouse. He also informed me that some of the prison horticulture programs were growing trees for the Department of Natural Resources He would walk me through the process once we got started if I chose to grow for these projects. He said it would even be better if I could find a signature plant (something really unique) which would identify our facility program as the grower. After seeing everything at this prison, it had been a long day and I had a long drive back. We exchanged our farewells and I was invited back when ever I wanted to see what was being accomplished there. He seemed enthusiastic that I would be helping their effort and gave me his contact information. With a department van loaded with house plants I headed back. My trip home went quick as I was truly inspired and could not wait to tell the warden what I thought we could accomplish at our facility. To be continued…..

As we began walking back to the school the principal started to explain what was currently happening at this prison. In 1988 the prison was ordered to downsize by the Federal Government. Being the “largest walled prison at that time,” it was not an easy task. The main prison was divided into 4 separate prisons. More prisons were built as well through out the state to help with the overcrowding identified as one of the main factors of the 1981 riots at this prison. Prisoner porters were washing the sidewalk and with a broom swept the water off the sidewalk as we walked towards the prison school. The principal felt they were cleaning the remnants of blood left on the sidewalk from the assault on the officer early this morning. The school had not opened yet and there looked to be about 500 prisoners mulling around the school yard. I felt like I was on a pirate ship.

We stopped walking and the principal informed me that in about 30 seconds the big yard would open. When that happens, those going to school will enter the building and those going to the yard would proceed there. The school opened and it seemed that for every four prisoners that went to the yard, one went to school. The principal informed us that he would ask the teachers to submit their absences to the school officer as he believed that many of those prisoners going to the yard should be in school. He saw familiar faces. If they were proven to be truant from school they would lose their yard privilege. Through out my career I found this to be an on going battle for the academic school.

The school opened and the principal began introducing me to the teachers. I thought he was very gregarious. I could tell the teachers liked him and he made everyone feel at ease when he spoke with them. He informed them of where I had traveled from. The new prison built on the east side of the state and what he had planned to show me on the tour this morning. He let them know if he was needed they could have him paged overhead. The school itself was old but clean and the teachers were more than willing to give me a few pointers on teaching inmates. There is “school” in the world and then there is “prison school!” The prison school could get violent at times with prisoners assaulting each other or staff. Unfortunately, the prison school assaults seem mild when compared to the blood baths happening in our schools currently. I never had to worry about a traumatized student coming back to shoot everything and everybody who got in their way. That just didn’t happen in prison. So I thought. My experience taught me later that any thing could happen in prison and usually did when you least expected it.

We finished the tour of the school. The teachers wished me well in my new career and we proceeded to 7 block. Entering 7 block we all had to sign in. The principal led me to an observation point where you could see five floors of barred cells and long isle ways he called the galleys. He informed me that they had to install awnings over the galleys because inmates would throw objects at the officers and at other inmates. Later back at my facility I was informed by our afternoon school officer that one of his relations who worked this block had his ear severed off by a mop wringer dropped from the galley above. “He thinks someone was trying to kill him.” I really thought that should have been understood. I was shown the chow hall and the gun turrets with what appeared to be bullet holes in the metal on the walls. One of the chow officers informed me that when a fight broke out in the chow hall an officer would fire a round out of the turret and the sound of the ricochet would put the inmates on the floor. At that point no-one moved for fear of being shot. The officers would then remove the fighters from the chow hall and place them in segregation. The gun turrets made the chow hall manageable when the inmates decided to be assholes. Our next tour would take me to another part of the prison where greenhouses were built many years ago, and much good came from the Horticulture program’s gardens. To be continued…..

It was a long drive, but by leaving early in the morning I beat the traffic. I just hoped the ride home would be as quick Pulling up in the old prison main parking lot looking at the front doors of what could have been a castle was the original prison built in 1839. Between the steely skies and the buildings’ dark brick stone exterior I felt I had arrived at the home of Dr. Frankenstein. First impressions are lasting impressions. Again, I ask myself,” what the f…are you trying to accomplish?” All this place needs is a moat and a fire breathing dragon. I shake my head and enter the prison through the main doors. The terrazzo floors are polished I noticed when entering what appears to be a rotunda. It looks like a union station without the train tracks. An officer calls me over to the main counter that resembles a hotel check-in. The song “Hotel California” comes to mind by the Eagles, “you can always check in but you can never leave.” I laugh to myself as the officer at the desk asked me to produce my identification. When I produce my identification he asked me to sign in the book on the counter. I am a little hesitant at first. I asked, “when I leave (reassuring myself) I will also be signing out?” He instructs me to sign in under the visitors column and to remember my number next to my name so I can sign back out when I leave. Good, I felt better knowing he was expecting me to leave at some point in time.

When I finished signing in, the front desk officer pointed me in the direction of an elderly gentleman, and yells out to him, “here’s the guy you’ve been waiting for.” He greets me with a smile, introduces himself, then informs me that the school principal of this prison wants to meet me and take me on a tour. At first I thought, wow, what hospitality, a tour? Then I thought, hell this is a big prison…I could be touring all day and not get accomplished what the warden wanted me to do here. I asked the Instructor if he would be joining us and he said he would. Plus, he felt we could then talk about what the other Horticulture programs are doing in the state and what they are trying to accomplish in the prisons. It felt good to know he would be my contact and mentor. I would have several mentors in my 25 year career with the Department of Corrections. He seemed very knowledgeable and over the years I was not disappointed speaking with him.

We were directed to the gate entrance were we produced our badges and were told to enter. The principal introduced me to the officer manning the gate entrance, and then informed me to empty my pockets once inside the gate. As we were being searched the officer informed the school principal that a custody employee was stabbed on the walk to the school last night and we should stay together They would keep a visual on us as we walked to the school. I didn’t say anything. Once searched we were directed to exit the gate. As we left the administration building and walked out on the walk way to the school the principal asked my mentor if he had “heard of anything on the condition of the officer stabbed?” He shook his head and we proceeded to the school. I wasn’t feeling confident anymore. I knew from past experience, (so little I had with the DOC) that serious incidents were handled with locking a facility down. I felt that this was a bad day to visit. I could be stuck here indefinitely. If they blew the siren for emergency count we would have to man the school. We would not be able to leave the school until directed by custody. Especially if they were looking for weapons. Unfortunately, as I was told by my new mentor, in this case they didn’t have to search for weapons. It was left inside the body of the officer they tried to kill. Custody administration would be reviewing any and all camera videos, even though the cameras were very limited at this time in the DOC. I felt very bad for the officer. Most of the shanks were hidden in the rectum of the assailants. I could only imagine the infection that would be created if that knife was stored there before the assault.

To Be Continued

Our meeting with the Warden was interesting. He knew more about me than my boss did. He informed me that I was known by the Regional Administrator(his boss) when I worked as an Executive with the medical center. She had conducted the Public Health inspections at the medical center and I was the government liaison by default. All the other dandies (medical center executives) where too busy looking good in their Brooks Brother suits to be bothered with such trivial matters as inspections by Public Health. I was the go to guy. The warden also knew I left that teaching hospital for another urban University Medical Center in a different state. I was impressed. The long arm of Corrections. I new they checked references but I did not know to what extent. They had many contacts. My Public Administration degree was now for the first time beginning to help me here.

The warden decided that he wanted a Horticulture program to be developed by the School and he wanted only me to run it. He was in the process of getting a greenhouse approved for this facility. In the mean time, I was to tour the main prison in another part of the state and speak with the Horticulture Instructor on how to set up a Horticulture program inside a “secured perimeter.” At the time, I did not know what the hell he was talking about. I kept looking at my boss who looked to be asleep. I informed the warden that my school principal said he was all for it. Once he wakes up, I will confirm this with him, and then make the necessary arrangements to visit the Horticulture Instructor at the main prison. The warden thanked me and wanted me to call him once I had completed that task. He also informed me that if the approval came through quickly from his bosses he would begin to break ground for the Greenhouse.

My boss got up first. He shook the warden’s hand and told him “this man can make it happen.” I smiled. I didn’t think he heard the discussion. We said our goodbyes. On the way back to the school my boss informed me that it would be quite sometime before I see the Greenhouse being built. “This is the State and things just don’t get done that fast.” Also, he thought I would have my hands full because of the tools that will need to be used for the program, (security concerns) the inherent racism in the prison between prison groups, and getting custody administration’s support on what ever I planned to do with making gardens, but I had his and the warden’s support. I would have to put in writing what I think I needed to make it a successful program. I told him I would go visit the main prison Horticulture Instructor, and after that visit I would let him know what I thought could be done here. I still had no clue on what I just signed up for, but believed by the grace of God good things could come of our efforts. My heart and mind were in the right place. I believed with the current administrative support I could make this happen. The arrangements for my visit were finalized. I headed west for my meeting like a fool on the horizon.

After processing the violence in the library and the FBI sting our Prison School Principal held a staff meeting. I informed him that I was concerned about my safety. It wasn’t even three months since I started and the school had been closed at least a dozen times due to violence. The FBI sting had removed some of the paid mules but I felt that this was just the tip of the iceberg. The violence was always unpredictable but continued to occur on a regular basis. Prisoner assaults’ on staff, and prisoner assaults’ on prisoners occurred daily, and for the life of me I could not understand why the officers called this place “camp candy land?” They would often say this place is “soft.” I often thought if this was a “soft prison” I would hate to see what they considered “hard?”

My school Principal always kept things positive, and he informed me that one of my tutors was part of the FBI sting and not to expect him back. I would have to hire another tutor from the school tutor pool, and try not to hire anyone who has a past record of assaults’ on staff or prisoners. My immediate response was something like, ” if they have a past history of assaults why are they on the school tutor pool? ” He said basically, “If they have any college credits, or a high school diploma, once interviewed at orientation, they can elect to be a school tutor and are automatically put in the pool. It’s the teachers job to make sure those prisoners’ with past histories of assaults’ are not hired.” This opened up a whole new avenue of thinking for me. These men have been convicted by a jury of their peers and are behind 3 barbed wire fences because they had victims. How big is the school tutor pool?

My question was answered when our school secretary at the time gave me a list of over 300 names and some of them had already been crossed off. I was informed by her that the ones who were crossed off were already working and I couldn’t employ them. What was even more frustrating was that 250 files I needed to see were in the records office which was in another building. This was not going to be an easy process. I came up with a plan deciding to just go ahead and interview the top candidates. Once I picked three senior candidates I would review their files in the records office. The school files were not adequate. They only contained the prisoners orientation interview, and any education they had claimed to have attained. It was left up to the teachers to figure it out. Looking at the official record was a good way of finding out what the potential tutors were in prison for and how much education they actually had. The principal informed me that we have a meeting with the Warden after our meeting ends and I should probably hire tutors with a Horticulture background. I must of looked confused because he informed me that all would be made clear after our meeting with the Warden. That I can say now was total fiction.

In honor of Black History month I would be showing movies in my classroom celebrating the contributions made by African Americans. In that same spirit I leave you with this most interesting story of both oppression and bravery :

After about a month of teaching at the prison I had an experience that not even the Corrections Academy had prepared me for. It seemed that the correctional facility I had accepted employment with was under investigation at the Federal level. No one, except the current administration and their minions, new this was occurring. What was discovered through FBI informants was that some Correctional Officers were selling handcuff keys , pepper spray, and drugs to the prisoners. The FBI came in during the Correctional Officers roll call (between shifts) and arrested those Correctional Officers involved in this malfeasance. One Correctional Officer, who had thought he could escape to the Caribbean, was arrested two weeks later when he returned home.( Not the brightest star in the sky this side of the Mississippi River.) He ended up pleading his case and did Federal time. Greed was the motivating factor for all of them.

The Correctional Officers in question were paid anywhere between 500 to 1000 dollars per inmate request. What bothered me the most was the compromised CO’s inability to realize that their fellow Correctional Officers could be slain at the hands of prisoners whom they empowered to escape when being transported. The prisoners feel we all have our price. For them it’s just a matter of time before some other staff person would become their paid- go to mule. The sharks were always looking for blood in the water. A staff person who was having difficulty on the job, someone having a difficult time at home, and finally someone who they thought could be manipulated for their purpose because of other perceived weaknesses were the characteristics of their “set up victims.” The proverbial “blood in the water,” is what they looked for on a daily basis. When a trickle was discovered an attack was immediate and continued until the staff person either capitulated to their demands or had the strength to tell the prisoners to back off. My standard answer to any request, that was questionable: “Please put your requests in writing and I will submit them to the Inspector.” Unfortunately, not one of my students took me up on my offer. I was so ready!

After the FBI sting, and the violence in the Library, I questioned what I thought I was doing here? I am a trained MBA and I often wondered if I was wasting my time working here. My experience had been with two large urban University Teaching Hospitals and I had received requests to return to them. Unfortunately/or fortunately, I am fickle. What appeared to me to be my life’s mission today, could be my nemesis tomorrow, but I felt divine providence wanted me here. My father used to say, “I don’t care if you choose to be a ditch digger; just be the best ditch digger you can possibly be!” I wanted to be the best I could possibly be and I put all my energy into achieving that. It was a difficult road, but it was the road I chose. I will never regret it. I felt at the time I was a warrior for making sure that good things could happen here. I was trained as a management change agent and I believed I could start applying the theory with my students. It provided mix results. (To be continued)

I was hired in the fall of 1994 as a vocational instructor for the Department of Corrections in a newly constructed state run facility in a large metropolitan area. My new Principal informed me I was selected out of 250 candidates and he believed I would have an exceptional career teaching in the prison school. He was absolutely correct. I spent 25 years behind three barbwire fences working with men ranging in age between 18 and 60 years old teaching them life skills and a trade they could possibly use to find employment upon their release from prison. It was a daunting task and I enjoyed the challenge.

After spending two weeks in non custody employee training at the academy, I was sufficiently trained to begin my teaching career in corrections. So I thought. I found it hard to believe the stories the academy instructors had conveyed about what happens to people (both custody and non custody) working in the prison environment. After time I not only experienced what they prepared me for, I saw it happening on a regular basis. Manipulation, violence and stress were always present in this environment. Unfortunately, it could come from staff as well as inmates. The later was expected. Staff having their own agenda could make things much worse and often did. That was not expected.

My classroom was only for my use during the day. At night it was used for hobby craft. I didn’t really know what “hobby craft” entailed. I found out when I began to notice that my desk top and student tables were being cut up on a regular basis. Large scratches were being made on the tops of tables, my desk, and even two drawer file cabinets nightly. I finally had enough and asked my Principal to look at the furniture in my classroom. After he saw the damage he smiled. He informed me that somehow the prison was going to have to get this under control. The prisoners are allowed to have on their person as they travel to the school for hobby craft the following items as long as they are listed on their hobby craft card: Scissors for cutting fabric, knives and razors for cutting leather goods. My tables were replaced, but I could not stop thinking about what my Principal said.

I began the first couple of years teaching “Custodial Maintenance, Blood Born Pathogens and Pre Release life skills as requested by the Prison School Principal. I had worked at two major urban teaching hospitals as a facilities executive before coming to the Department of Corrections to teach. This would be easy I thought. When compared to my twelve hour days at the medical centers, this was a relief. So I thought. Then it happened. The School Correctional Officer (CO) made an announcement over the school public address system that prisoners are not to leave their classrooms. That did not keep my students from sticking their heads out the door way and announcing to the class that something big just went down in the School Library.

My classroom faced the outside walk way and through the barred windows my students could see the rush of Correctional Officers into the school building. It did not take long to secure the building. I was informed later in the day by the School Officer that an inmate with a melted razor in a toothbrush handle had slit the throat of a prisoner who he had been stalking for at least three years. It seems the prisoner whose throat he slit from ear to ear had raped his grandmother. I experienced many things working in the medical centers, but I can honestly say I had not seen this amount of blood outside of the medical environment. The prisoner who slit his throat was immediately subdued and handcuffed.

He was covered in blood, and was screaming that he “will kill that ‘asshole.” The victim was being transported to health care in a wheel chair with his shirt being compressed against his jugular with blood visibly soaking his t-shirt and improvised compress. The perpetrator was taken to the segregation unit. The weapon was put in a baggie and taken to the control center. The prisoners were told to vacate the school and were sent back to their housing units. The school was closed and the library was now a crime scene. I was asked to give the remaining prisoner school porters directions on cleaning up the blood once the facility Inspectors had finished taking pictures. I was in uncharted waters. School resumed the next day as if nothing had happened. “There but for the grace of God go I,” was my immediate thought.