2012
2011
2010
Jun Jul Aug Sep Oct Nov Dec Errata for Dec10
Canteen Quarterly Comments on Canteen Quarterly
2009
2008
Note From Malcolm Singer on January 25, 2009:
The letters that follow are written by Harold Sherry who is currently serving a 20 year term in prison. Harold does not have access to a computer or the internet. He writes the letters by hand and I transcribe them. I type them in verbatim. Only once, did I change the wording and only after I discussed the change with Harold. Occasionally, corrections are made after the letters are posted, but those have been to correct my typos. Harold is very meticulous in his spelling and word usage.
He has to buy every piece of paper and envelope as well as the stamp. The only feedback he gets is from readers who write to him. You can find his address in the December 2008 letter.
Not every classmate is in favor of giving Harold “air time.” I agreed to do this for 2 reasons. Firstly, out of respect to my predecessor as webmaster and secondly, because I feel his letters serve as a stark reminder to all of us that, unless we can control our anger, we could wind up in the same place. I chose this format to air his papers because it gives you a choice to ignore them entirely or to read them. All other classmates, who have access to the internet, can express themselves publicly in the guest-book any time.
Note from Malcolm Singer on June 1, 2010:
[As many of you noticed Harold has not written since July, 2009. Many of you as well as I have been concerned. In Harold’s words he was in a “self-imposed funk.” He wrote me to say he will resume his letters. He is limitted to the number of pages per letter and the number of letters per month even though he pays for all mail he sends. I want to share with you part of his letter to me which is a prelude to coming articles.]
I’m back among the world of the living (hopefully)! I’d like to resume the monthly website articles (aka “blog”). The tenor of the articles will deal with my silence. I will cover three themes all of which have had some bearing:
1. Health – this issue always has to be important for people our age. I had a cardiac incident at the end of August (there had been similar incidents prior to my incarceration) which ultimately resulted in a stress test at a local hospital – I can describe the interesting procedures that ensue when a prisoner is taken off-site – in early November. Fortunately, the results were negative and there have been no recurrences of the incident. More recently, however, there has been a metastasis of the arthritis that has heretofore been confined to my left sholder – now affecting my left hip and related areas.
2. Work Assignment – Due to a variety of factors, I have the ignominous distiction of having seven work assignments (in six different venues) – perhaps a record at this institution – in the space of 12 months, all with the objective of achieving my ultimate assignment – education instructor. Regretfully, I have as yet not achieved this desideratum. I intend to describe work assignments in greater detail in a future article.
3. Psyche – Far and away the most important factor is how I have been adapting to prison life particularly with respect to inter-relationships with the correctional staff and other inmates. My feelings have significantly changed during the almost 23 months at this institution.
Mac Singer
Main menu. Comments on Canteen
Quarterly Order Form
These are special clothing items we can order four time yearly – during the months of February, May, August, and November.
1. You’ll notice the shaded column that shows the maximum number of each item we are allowed to have in accordance with Chapter 33 of the Florida Administraive Code. This falls under the topic of “property” that I’ll cover in a future website article.
2. I either have, or have ordered, every item on the form with the exception of the athletic supported, thermal underwear (aka long jhons), and the lock for blind inmates. In December’s article, I posit that most of the inmates who have the thermal underwear are those who, in the past, were incarcerated in an institution in the panhandle of the state.
3. The itmes remain unchanged from one quarter to the next with the execption of the sneakers; the selections change and the Nike model is a new choice fot his quarter. Given the inflated prices the commissary company charges ,one has to wonder about the quality of this item even at a price of $58. What I currently havem and what I will be ordering a replacement for, are the New Balance sneakers; atleat they are a known item. At a commercial store, if you try on a pair of shoes (or sneakers) and they don’t fit, you don’t have to buy them; here we don’t have that luxury.
4. One of the downsides to the quarterly orders is that it takes a good one and a half to two months for the items to arrive. So, I won’t receive the new sneakers until late December or early January. Hopefully, the current sneakers will hold out until then.
“The department [Department of Corrections] has an experienced, well-trained staff, but it is adversely affected by staff turnover due to local governments increasing their salaries faster than the state.”
Part of Issue I (Enduring Public Safety by Effective Custody and Supervision of Offenders) of the Florida Department of Corrections in the Strategic Plan dated January 30, 1997.
I have been told that the starting salary for an entry-level
corrections officer in
South Unit Latte
Now that the colder weather is upon is, at least by south
1. One envelope of Nestle hot cocoa mix (.71 oz)
2. One small packet of Nestle Coffee-mate non-dairy creamer (.1 oz)
3. One-half to one teaspoon of instant coffee (depending on taste) – this is the same coffee I maligned in a past article. Mixing it with cocoa and creamer gives it redemption.
Add about 10 ounces of hot water, stir vigorously, and enjoy. The result is a latte at about one-tenth the cost of what Starbucks would charge. Of course, we don’t have the ambiance or a Wi-Fi connection.
Laundry
Last month in describing one inmate’s hustle, I covered the washing of the sheets and pillow case. I thought it would be appropriate to continue with this theme. I will also describe the agony I had experienced in tying my laundry bag.
The other laundry service is the washing of the uniforms, “whites,” and special clothing. These items are washed three times weekly; they are collected on the evenings of Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday, and are washed and returned the following day (they usually arrive around lunch time). During weeks when there is a holiday, the laundry schedule is altered somewhat as the laundry is closed on those days. When the holiday occurs on Thursday, such as Veteran’s Day last month, the sheets and pillow case are washed on Tuesday for all dormitories and all other aspects of the laundry schedule are unchanged. When the holiday occurs on Monday, as many Federal holidays are, the thrice weekly schedule becomes twice weekly with collection on Monday and Thursday evenings. This creates complications as we are limited by Chapter 33 to the quantity of clothing we can have (more about this topic in a future article).
The special clothing consists of the red shorts the DOC provides and items that can be purchased at the canteen such as pajamas, sweatshirts, and thermal underwear (aka long johns). Two varieties of pajamas are available: short sleeve style in powder blue for summer wear and a long sleeve style in a blue/green color for winter wear. Some inmates have been known to put their pajamas in the laundry bag with the “whites” (see below); the result, of course, is white pajamas. Most inmates with thermal underwear are those who have been in institutions in the panhandle where the weather is colder during the winter months.
The “whites” consist of the T-shirts, boxer shorts , socks and wash cloths, and are washed in a mesh laundry bag with a draw string top. I put my handkerchief in the laundry bag. I also put in the bag the rag (it is actually a cut-up portion of a cotton blanket) I use to clean the tables in the dining hall during my work assignment. (note: the rag is not as dirty as you might think as we wash it frequently – in a mixture of Orange Blast and water – during the course of a meal. Orange Blast is an all purpose kitchen cleaner produced by Pride Enterprises.) The tying of the laundry bag – merely tightening the draw string did not suffice – proved to be a more formidable task than I could have imagined (Laundry Bag 101 was not part of my college curriculum) and the laundry workers came to know that if there were any loose clothes in the washer or dryer, more than likely they were mine. Happily, I never lost any items during these crises. After two years and patient instruction by the laundryman in the dormitory, I eventually learned the proper technique for tying the laundry bag and there have been no recent problems.
The laundry operation at the South Unit is an efficient one; in addition to providing laundry service for the 500 or so local inmates, the South Unit does the laundry for the Main Unit (items are delivered each morning by truck).
Dental Services
With the unemployment at high levels, I have discovered a good career opportunity: go into the dental appliance business, contract with the Department of Corrections, and set up shop near a correctional institution with a sizable senior inmate population. This is an unofficial estimate, but I would say that a good one-half of the senior inmates at the South Unit have either full dentures, partial dentures, or a mouthful of missing teeth. You can get a sense of this when you note that denture toothpaste and denture adhesive are two of the items sold at the canteen. With some inmates, this would be due to excessive drug use during their adult years. With most inmates, it is probably due to neglect or over-indulgence in sugared foods.
The dental operation at the South Unit is as impressive as
the laundry service, There is a dentist (he may not be a DOC employee but
rather a private citizen who is provided office facilities by the DOC), two hygienists,
two orderlies (inmates who provide support services such as pouring mouth rinse
into the little plastic cups), and four dental stations. The actual dental work
is not done exclusively by the dentist but is also performed by advanced dental
students at
All inmates are given a free annual dental examination to identify any services that are required. What inhibits many inmates from undertaking these services is the requirement for a $5 co-payment for each office visit.
As part of my ongoing research to furnish material for these articles, I partook of the dental services! (Actually, this was beneficial apart from the articles as it had been some time since I was last at a dentist.) I had a total of four visits – there was a cleaning, x-rays, and some bonding work. So my teeth should be good for another year.
Another
(Amusing?) Anecdote
Here is something that is not unique to prison life although the outcome may be revealing as to the mind-set of one particular inmate.
If you put on a garment with sleeves such as a shirt, blouse, or sweater that does not have buttons on the front, you have two choices:
1) Pull the garment over your head first then put your arms through the sleeves, or
2) Put your arms through the sleeves first then pull the garment over your head.
Which of the two do you use? Or do you even care? Or are you thinking that this inmate – namely me – is beginning to lose it and really needs to “get a life”? But bear with it!
Most of the uniform shirts are of the pullover variety although I reported in the past that some inmates have a shirt with buttons on the front. For some unknown reason, I use the first approach: pulling the garment over my head first then putting my arms through the sleeves (I tried the second approach one time but much like tying my laundry bag, I was unequal to the task; I became terribly discombobulated). This incident occurred some time ago but one morning in the dormitory when the lights were turned on at 5:30, I noticed that almost all the other inmates put on their uniform shirts using the second approach; they put their arms through the sleeves first then pulled the shirt over their head. I decided to have some fun.
Later that morning while standing in line for breakfast, I remarked to the inmate next to me that I had just received a DR* because I did not put on my uniform shirt in the prescribed manner (the specific charge was “Failure to conform to established inmate procedures”). The person to whom I made the remark had enough sense to know that my statement was totally preposterous but another inmate who was eavesdropping – an inmate who believes there is a conspiracy behind everything that happens in prison – believed that I was being truthful and stated that I would need to “write him up,” meaning that would need to file a grievance against the correctional officer involved.
* Short for “Disciplinary Report,” a DR is the bête noire of prison life. It is the “stick” to the “carrot” of gain time (gain time is time off for good behavior). It is the result of a serious violation of the rules and can – and frequently does – result in confinement and/or loss of gain time. I’ll cover this topic in greater detail in a description of “Discipline and Infractions.”
This whole incident, including this inmate’s response, was so ridiculous that I didn’t feel compelled to tell him that it was all a fabrication. This inmate may have forgotten the incident; then again, he may not and still believe it to be true. He is anticipating a retrial with a possible overturning of his conviction or a reduction of sentence. One has to wonder how well this individual will function in the outside world.
Until next month, be well.
Errata To December 2010 Article Above Main menu.
In the description of the laundry service in last month’s article, I mentioned that the rag I was using to clean the dining room tables was a cutup portion of a cotton blanket that I was rinsing in a mixture of Orange Blast and water. The blanket was not up to the demands of the job so, through a contact in the laundry operation, I was able to “upgrade” to a portion of a cotton towel – a better solution as it is less subject to raveling and much more absorbent. But the Orange Blast is out! One of the kitchen staff workers – a civilian employed by the Department of Corrections – said to me one morning: “They don’t want you to use Orange Blast to clean the tables.” When I inquired who the “they” were, she said, among other people, the “Warden.” Now we have the Warden [assign judgment on the cleaning supplies we should be using. Orange Blast is shipped to the correctional institutions by Pride Enterprises in 15 gallon plastic drums. I had occasion one time to read the label affixed to the outside of the drum. Without recalling the details, it is all-purpose kitchen cleaner that seems perfectly suitable for cleaning dining room tables, the only admonition being that it be diluted properly. What am I using instead? Handy Suds, a liquid had soap also produced by Pride Enterprises. It keeps the towel clean and my hands as well!
“The department [Department of Corrections] will forge working partnerships with local communities and public safety agencies to reduce the growth of the offender population and will strive for excellence with a highly trained, ethical and dynamic work force.”
Part of the Vision of the Florida Department of Corrections in the Strategic Plan dated January 30, 1997.
Were it only so…
Coprolalia
You have to wonder about somebody – especially when that somebody is a “hardened criminal” – who occasionally spends his idle time rummaging through a dictionary. Of course, I am that somebody and one day I came across an interesting word: coprolalia. No etymology is given (according to the dictionary, it entered the lexicon in 1886) but the definition is germane: obsessive or uncontrollable use of obscene language. Definitely a worthwhile subject in a discussion of prison life…
The motion picture treatment of prison life in contemporary times usually garners an adult rating, if not for violence then certainly for language. And this is true even among the senior inmates in the relaxed environment of the South Unit (about the only “violence” we experience on an ongoing basis is the reaction to some of the meals we are served). Much of the language seems to be gratuitous; you have to wonder if some of the individuals are even aware of what they are saying.
The ‘f’ word, including its variants, is the most popular expression. Adding and ‘er’ to the end of the word and preceding it with ‘mother’ is a popular way of referring to another inmate. Interestingly, this expression is in the Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, Eleventh Edition, where it is defined as “one that is formidable, contemptible, or offensive – usu. Used as a generalized term of abuse.” The dictionary does say, however, that the expression is “usually obscene.” Although around here you would never know that.
Such language, of course, is not limited solely to the inmates. About a month or two after I arrived at the South Unit, I had an incident when a young, over-zealous, female corrections officer decided to do a “count” about 3:00 in the morning. (Note: I believe this woman is no longer a DOC employee, at least not at the South Unit. I heard subsequently that she remarked to an inmate that she did not feel “comfortable” walking in a dormitory populated by male inmates.) She had already passed my bed but as I did not know she was there, I arose to go to the bathroom when she forcibly ordered me to return to the bed. In a moment of pique, I threw my washcloth on the bed. (Note: In her written account of the incident, she referred to this item as a “rag” but it was in fact a “washcloth.”) Later that morning, because I was new to prison life, it was suggested that I speak to the captain (the captain who was on duty at the time). This was an experience not easily forgotten.
I talked to a twenty-seven year veteran (as he told me) of the Department of Corrections. This man, in prison circles, has undoubtedly heard it all, seen it all, and done it all. He asked what I had done “on the outside” and what I did that brought me into prison. Then he proceeded to lay out the ground rules and it was at this point of the conversation that every sentence he uttered contained a variation of the 'f' word. He used it to describe the rules, the other inmates, and in any other context he felt was appropriate. I thought about asking him if he felt we could have any kind of meaningful conversion without all the profanity.
In all fairness, I should mention that there certainly are inmates who do not engage in profanity and some are even offended by it.
Hustle
No, I am not referring to the dance from the ‘60s. In prison
parlance, “hustle” is the unofficial work an inmate does to earn “money” for
canteen purchases. Because
The underground prison economy is a wonder to behold. It is apparent that if many of the inmates had applied their ingenuity and creativity to honest pursuits they could have done something constructive with their lives rather than spend most of their adult years in prison. Perhaps the most popular hustle is the repair of radios and watches. The radios we can purchase at the canteen –there are two varieties: a peanut radio (so called because it is shaped like a peanut) of inferior quality and a Sony digital Walkman radio of superior quality – come with earbud headphones that frequently require repair particularly at the jack connecting the headphones to the radio. One inmate told me that repair of the radios has kept him in canteen funds for the twenty plus years of his incarceration. Have a watch needing a new battery? No problem, with the right connections. But, you may wonder, how do the batteries make it into institution? Don’t ask: such questions are best left to the gods.
Some of the other popular hustles:
1) Inmates with an artistic bent make customized greeting cards.
2) The jailhouse lawyers provide legal services to inmates working on their appeals. These include the filing of briefs and motions with the various legal authorities.
3) For a weekly stipend of $2 the laundryman assigned to each dormitory wing provide a customized service such as extra bleach for the white clothes and “precision” folding of the uniforms among other amenities. I partake in this service as it gives me more direct access to the laundryman if I should need something that would be considered special such as an extra blanket during the winter months.
There is an inmate at the institution who, to be politically correct, can best be described as “intellectually challenged.” To the non-creationists, he would be living proof that the universe was not formed through intelligent design – maybe some other kind of design but not an intelligent one. But he is a personable and energetic individual; because he receives no canteen funds, he has a couple of unique hustles:
1) Bed making: In my dormitory, the bed linens – sheets and pillow case – are collected about 4:30 Thursday morning, taken to the laundry and are returned washed and folded usually at lunchtime (blankets are washed on the first Thursday of the month but if you use the specialized laundry service described above, you can have your blanket washed weekly, if desired). When the linens are returned, some inmates choose not to be bothered with making their bed so they engage this individual to perform this service. I make the bed myself; at the risk of having you question my humility (?), I should state that bed making may be the only non-intellectual activity that I perform reasonably well (such is not the case with the tying of the laundry bag that I’ll describe in next month’s article). We are required to make our beds in the military style, and they have to be this way by 8:00 each morning (one morning I made my bed at 3:00 AM). There is a schematic on the bulletin board in the TV room showing the proper technique: the top sheet and blanket folded 18 inches from the head of the mattress to form an apron six inches wide. To be honest, though, the correctional staff is not particular in the way we make our beds; this may be in keeping with the ‘laid-back” style of the South Unit.
2) Sneaker cleaning: Four times a year – during the first week of February, May, August, and November – we can buy clothing items at the canteen one of which is sneakers, and there are usually four or so different grades from which we can choose. This inmate’s other hustle is the cleaning of the sneakers and I decided to commission him to perform this service. I first asked him how much he charges. He replied that I could pay him whatever I felt the job was worth. Now, being charitable guy that I am, I concluded that $1 per show was reasonable, although I felt that most other inmates would try to stiff him by paying only $1 for both shoes, and this poor inmate would accept even this meager amount because, as stated previously, he had no other opportunities for canteen funds. I then asked him what his turnaround time was. He didn’t understand the question, so I had to rephrase it by asking him how long it would take to clean the sneakers. He said that if I gave him the shoes at lunchtime, he would have them finished later in the afternoon. A few hours later he returned the sneakers – he did a most satisfactory job (they looked close to brand new). We have to settle up and I gave him a couple scenarios of canteen items that total $2. He asked me how many oatmeals he could get (these are the individual packets of Quaker instant oatmeal that, at the time, sold for 39¢. They are one of the popular canteen items, especially among those who don’t go to breakfast, although oatmeal, albeit plain, is served on Monday, Wednesday, and alternate Saturdays; more about our meals in a future article.) Now, here is another opportunity to stiff the man but being the honest guy I am (as well as charitable), I tell him that five oatmeals would total $1.95, close to the $2 we had agreed to previously. The matter is not settled at this point, however, because there are three flavors from which to choose, and how do we apportion the five oatmeals among the three flavors? After much negotiation, we settle on two cinnamon roll, two maple and brown sugar, and one plain. He was happy – he had five oatmeals he otherwise would not have – and I had a clean pair of sneakers plus this interesting anecdote to relate.
Until next month, be well.
Harold Main menu
When an inmate goes off-site for an extended period for, say, an outside medical trip* or, in my case, for protective custody/confinement/jail/”the box,” it is customary for the inmate to go through the work assignment process upon return to the South Unit. The mechanism by which this assignment is effected is the Institutional Classification Team, popularly known as ICT, which holds meetings generally on Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. It is also customary for the inmate to be given the same work assignment he had prior to his departure. But my attendance at the ICT meeting on the afternoon of August 24, upon my return from five weeks of purgatory at the Main Unit, was anything but customary.
* Medical services at this institution are limited. When more involved treatment is required, three venues are possible depending on the service(s) to be performed:
1) Infirmary at the Main Unit.
2)
3)
I will cover medical services in greater detail in a future article.
DOC employees at these ICT meetings usually number four or five although only two are the real protagonists: a classification employee and a senior correctional officer, either the Assistant Warden or the Major. At the ICT meeting I attended the protagonists were my classification representative (designated ‘CR’) and the Major. The dialog went something like this:
CR: Sherry1, why did you leave the dog program?2
Me: Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah.3
Major (turning to CR): What job did he have before the dog program?
CR (riffling through papers): Recreation yard.
Major (turning to me): OK, you’ll be going back to the recreation yard.
1 Notice how everyone at the institution is on a last name basis. Correctional officers have their rank preceding their last name. For non-correctional DOC employees, we precede their last name with Mr. or Ms. Inmates are not accorded similar niceties but for some inmates whose last names are difficult to pronounce, DOC staff may reference them by their first name.
2 The purpose of her question was obvious: With more dogs expected to be delivered to the institution she wanted to know if I was interested in returning to the dog program.
3 I gave my usual spiel: I don’t have the patience to be a dog trainer blah-blah-blah. I should never have gone into the dog program blah-blah-blah.
To fully understand what is going on here you need to refer to the June article of this year in which I described the various work assignments I have had. There you will note that I was in the dog program only a brief time and from the middle of March I have been assigned to Food Service. Expecting (and desiring) to be reassigned to Food Service, a question comes to mind: Why did I not say something at the ICT meeting? Good question! Two answers are pertinent:
1) Recall that in last month’s article in describing my protective custody/confinement/…, as a condition for my release, I agreed there would be “no more problems.” I felt that saying something at the meeting could have created one of these “problems.”
2) I was more astonished than anything else because it became apparent that both protagonists must have assumed that I only recently left the dog program and they were returning me to my “previous assignment.”
To confirm the second point, I asked one of the inmates in the dormitory – a very knowledgeable individual who has been “down” thirty-one years and understands the dynamics of the Florida Department of Corrections. I asked if it was possible for them – the Classification representative and the Major – to totally overlook the fact that for the past four or five months I have been assigned to Food Service. He said that knowing how the DOC operates, such an outcome was certainly possible.
At this point I complete the Job Change Request Form* but how do I answer the question “Reason for Job Change Request”? How do I state that I was reassigned to the recreation yard due to a “possible oversight” by the ICT staff? I resort to my wordsmithery by using nebulous expressions such as “the appearance was…” and “it is possible that…”
* The DOC runs on a plethora of forms (there must
be an entire department at the DOC headquarters in
In any event my request was approved and I am now back in Food Service. But my assignment was different than what I had previously. Before I was in the dining room wiping tables; now I am in the “pot room” cleaning the pots and pans. This assignment proved to be more demanding than I would have expected but, as evidence that sometimes you do get what you wish for, after a couple of weeks I was reassigned to the dining room. Same arrangement as before: work one day (lunch and dinner); off two days.
An
Astonishing Figure
No, I am not referring to a picture of me in a Speedo bathing suit at Virginia Beach some thirty-odd years ago (I was lean and buff in those days). I am referring to the proportion of senior inmates at this institution who have been convicted of a sex-related offense.
There is an unwritten rule in prison to never ask another inmate why he is incarcerated. After all, inasmuch as everyone is “innocent,” such a question would not elicit an honest response. But that doesn’t stop one from wondering or trying to find out by other means (in some cases, the inmate’s mannerisms may be an indicator of the likely offense).
One way would be to ask an inmate how long he has been imprisoned (or “down”). Unless the person is a repeat offender – recall that the DC number on the ID tag is preceded by the numeral zero or a letter beginning with ‘A’ indicating the number of prior times the individual has been imprisoned – the longer the downtime, the more serious the offense, although the exact nature of the offense may not be known.
Asking me how
long I have been down is pointless as most inmates know that I have been in the
After I arrived at the South Unit slightly more than two years ago, I began hearing comments to the effect that a significantly large proportion of the senior inmates at the institution was convicted of a sex-related offense. I heard figures as low as one-half to as high as three-quarters. I also heard that when the South Unit was initially populated, the figure was even greater – on the order of 80%. But I was hearing these figures from individuals who treat such inmates with disdain because they were not guilty of more perceived “manly” offenses such as murder or armed robbery.
Knowing that I wanted to address this issue in a monthly article, I sought out an inmate in the dormitory who I knew had been convicted of such an offense: he had relations with an underage female. Irrespective of his thoughts regarding how he feels the female views the relationship – this is, he believes the liaison was mutually consensual – he has accepted his plight and freely acknowledges the stupidity [this was the inmate’s word] of his actions. As I believed he would give me an honest response, I posed to him the same question: the proportion of senior inmates at this institution convicted of a sex-related offense. He said 70%, certainly within the range given to me by other inmates.
“Sex-related offense” covers a broad spectrum: from lewd and lascivious behavior, through sexual battery, through pedophilia. What this means, though, is that of the 400 or so senior inmates at this institution, somewhere between 250 and 300 are guilty of this offense – a truly astonishing figure.
[Note from
Malcolm: Since I have access to the internet, I learned that the south has a
higher percentage of the general population incarcerated and
There is an interesting corollary to this phenomenon. I have reported in the past how the DOC pigeonholes inmates by custody level with respect to housing assignment (I referred to this in a previous article as a form of “musical chairs” the DOC plays). But the reality is that we all eat together, work together, and socialize together. I had always assumed that custody level would be the prime determinant in the activities in which the inmate would be engaged. In many situations, however, the nature of an inmate’s charges is the key. Nowhere is this more true than the dog program.
When the program was started in late February, inmates convicted of a sex-related offense were not allowed to participate. It has only been recently, when the supply of “acceptable” inmates was exhausted (among those who consented to be in the program), that the policy was amended to allow sex offenders to participate.
I had intended to write about the “hustle” in this month’s article but I’ll save it for next month (hustle refers to the private work an inmate does to earn money for canteen purchases). Until then, be well.
Harold Main menu
Purgatory
For those of you who wonder what the netherworld is like, I
have been there: it’s Building E –
Recall that the housing arrangement at the South Unit is the
open-bay dormitory style (à la military barracks). I began having conflicts
with one of the inmates in an adjacent bed. He berated me one evening for what
he felt was excessive noise I was making which he didn’t appreciate as he said
he has heart problems. I opined that if he were serious about his health he may
wish to stop smoking. This individual has been down thirty years (thirty years
and five months, as he so “proudly” told me); prior to the South Unit, he was
incarcerated at
Confinement, in a two-man cell, is effectively 24-hour-a-day lockdown. Meals are brought to you through a slot in the cell door (room service!). Of course, by the time the food arrives from the kitchen it is cold and unappetizing. The only regularly-scheduled activity away from the cell is for a shower three times a week. And then you are hand-cuffed before leaving the cell (again through the cell door with the hands cuffed in the back for added security), escorted to the shower (where the cuffs are removed also through a slot in the shower door), and then the process is reversed for escort back to the cell. One time I showered at 2:15 in the morning; this was after the DOC had run out of towels. When I inquired of the corrections officer how I would be expected to dry myself, he suggested that I could employ the “air dry” technique although he subsequently found me a sheet for this purpose.
When I arrived at the cell in the early evening of July 19, there was another individual there: a young fellow who, because he had been a law enforcement officer prior to his incarceration, was awaiting placement in “protective management” in the Florida prison system (I can surmise that they placed me with him because technically I was in “protective custody” rather than in “disciplinary confinement”). For obvious reasons, the well-being of a former law enforcement officer could be in jeopardy if placed in the general prison population. But he left at 5:00 the following morning. So, for the remainder of my confinement, I was in the cell by myself. Other than certain times when I began to feel claustrophobic and anxious, I had no problems with this isolation.
For diversion, I had a book (which I read, and re-read, and re-read) and a deck of playing cards. I was also allowed to keep my portable radio but, as I had feared, the batteries almost immediately went out and I had no way to replace them.
At the end of the first week, I gave a statement to an investigative team regarding the reason for my bed change request. On the following Monday, I met with a higher-level investigative team (the only time I was taken out of the cell other than for showers). They read me the statement made by the other inmate. I thought this would immediately end the matter and that I would shortly be released. Big mistake number deux!
As each day led into the next, I began to wonder if I had somehow “fallen through the cracks” and would be destined to spend the rest of my prison time in confinement. One of the rituals is for a South Unit classification employee (recall that I used to work in the classification department) to make a weekly visit to inquire into the welfare of the confinement inmates. After two and one-half weeks, my classification representative visited and I asked her if she, or anyone else, could tell me how much longer I would be in confinement. She replied that I could be released during the day but she wanted assurance from me that there would be “no more problems.” Big mistake number trois!
Release from confinement didn’t mean immediate return to the
South Unit; I was destined to spend even more time in the transient area of the
Main Unit where I was for five weeks in June two years ago as my initial entrée
in the
The Main Unit of the
My five weeks of purgatory gave me ample opportunity for self-reflection. I had to experience what confinement is like and I’m convinced that, in time, I will be a better person for it. There is a saying that goes something like: “Be careful what you wish for.” Nowhere is this more true than in a prison environment. There is a companion saying with similar meaning that is also relevant: “Better the devil you know.”
I don’t really fault the DOC, however; I view this as payback for all the stupid things I did in life.
Follow-Up
I ended last month’s article with a question: How would you expect an inmate to act on the evening before his release? I didn’t appreciate this dynamic until I observed it first hand.
One month after my arrival at the South Unit in July 2008 I was transferred from one dormitory to another as part of the game of “musical chairs” the DOC plays with inmates of varying custody levels. Shortly thereafter as inmate was due to be released.
This is somewhat of an unfortunate circumstance. We frequently see and hear reports in the media about prison inmates who are subsequently exonerated after the introduction of DNA testing and other evidentiary techniques that have only recently become available. This man was convicted of armed robbery but it came to light post-conviction that no weapon, in the commission of the crime, was ever located. The charge, then, should merely have been robbery for which the sentence would have been fifteen years. But this inmate was being released after serving thirty-two years. (As I frequently like to say, unfortunately his life expectancy won’t be extended to make up for these seventeen lost years.) On the evening prior to his release, I was particularly attentive to his behavior.
I would have expected a party atmosphere. It was anything but. He said good-bye to a few of the inmates with whom he had been close. But, there were no embraces, no high fives, no celebration. If anything, the atmosphere was funereal.
I heard subsequently that this man had a falling-out with his brother and, on the outside, wasn’t doing “too well.”
For many former inmates, life on the outside is worse that their prison time. Regrettably, the DOC does not do a particularly effective job in preparing these inmates for reentry into society (in prison parlance, this process is called “transition” and I plan to comment on it further in a subsequent article). Many inmates do not have the financial means for life on the outside and have to continue to be wards of the state. More critically, many individuals are not emotionally or psychologically prepared for reentry.
Consider a prison inmate who has been “down” for thirty years – since 1980. Now consider what has transpired in your life since that time. More important, consider what has occurred in the world at large: the fall of communism and the breakup of the Soviet Union, Islamic terrorism, climate change, the Internet, and now the current economic crisis. Plus, many inmates, as a condition of their release, are required to wear an ankle bracelet with GPS tracking capability for which they are obligated to pay the state a per diem of $6.
On that somber note, I shall close for now. Until next month, be well.
Harold Main menu.
Main menu. August 2010
Greetings! I'm sure with my impertinent comments about the instant coffee at the canteen being like rotgut, I'll run afoul of the instant coffee trade association (if there is such a group) but that didn't stop me from buying a bag. Even in the slammer a cup of java first thing in the morning is de rigueur. As I begin this article, it is shortly before 4:30 am and I am sitting at a table in the TV room (also referred to as the “day room,” this is the room with the TV and water fountain) with a cup of coffee at hand. Unfortunately, the water fountain is on the fritz (although it does work most of the time); someone has rigged what can best be described as a “urostomy bag” coming from a grill on the side to drain water (there must be some kind of leak in there) into a small plastic bucket that sits inside a larger plastic bucket. Pointing to this contraption is a sign affixed to the outside of the fountain that forcefully says: “Do not touch!!!” which I dutifully obey although someone would have to “touch” it to periodically empty the water from the small bucket. In better economic times, when the Department of Corrections had money, one would suppose that the fountain would be either effectively repaired or replaced.
In June's article, I mentioned that many inmates, particularly those who have been incarcerated for lengthy periods, act in a programmed manner as a result of a process I termed, perhaps unfairly, as “institutional brainwashing.” These inmates seem to be unable to exhibit any independent thought or action or to respond to any exceptional circumstances that may arise (what I referred to as the “vagaries of life”). Let me give a specific example.
The dining hall – aka “chow hall” (Yes, I am still working there cleaning tables during lunch and dinner every third day. I am also certified in mopping and sweeping but mopping is difficult because with an arthritic left shoulder, I cannot swing the mop from side to side, presumably the preferred way, but only from front to back. But my coworkers are understanding and they do most of the mopping allowing me to specialize in table cleaning and sweeping) – can seat approximately 250 inmates at one time but there are more than twice that number at this institution (current count most days varies between 520 and 540; maximum capacity, however, is close to 700) although not all inmates will choose to eat any given meal and some inmates will be off the grounds when a particular meal is being served. As a result, the serving of meals must be staggered and the staggering is done by dormitory. With seven days per week and seven dormitories, this becomes convenient: each dormitory can eat first one day, second another day, and so on. The issue then becomes for a given day the order in which the dormitory will go for a particular meal. (Note: this issue is primarily applicable only to lunch and dinner. Many inmates do not go to breakfast and it is usually too dark to see what other dormitories have already gone.) Inmates will stare out the windows to note which dormitories are currently going or have already gone; questions will be posed such as 'What order do we eat?” or “Do we eat first?” Some inmates even ask me if I know the order assuming that I must be privy to this information. My response is that I'll go eat when I'm told to do so (notification when it is time to eat is usually accompanied by the flashing of lights in the dormitory. But this can occasionally create confusion as the light-flashing strategy is also used for other notifications such as the “count,” a procedure to be described in a future article.) About all I know is that the dormitory in which I reside eats dinner first on Wednesday and last on Thursday, or maybe it's last on Wednesday and first on Thursday. Whatever! To some of these inmates, I am sorely tempted to pose two questions: “If they (the authorities) told you that you could pick the time you wanted to eat, would you know what to do?” and “Do you think you could handle it?”
ID Tag
In July's article last year – the last one. I wrote prior to my self-imposed “exile,” I described the various dress codes and the circumstances to which they apply. But I omitted perhaps the most important item: the ID tag.
The ID tag is of comparatively recent vintage. One inmate told me it has been available in its present form only since the mid -1990ss. About the size of a credit card, it contains a wealth of information:
● In the upper left-hand corner in white text on a red background: the words “Dept. of Corrections.”
● Below that in black text on a yellow background: the word “Inmate.” This would seem to be of questionable utility as everyone knows who the inmates are. But maybe we need to be distinguished from the correctional staff who have their own ID tags.
● Below that is the ubiquitous DC number.
● Below that are the columns of six items: D. O. B. (date of birth), hair color, eye color, height, weight, and race. Race actually refers to skin color as the only choices are “white” and “black.” (Note: Unlike the Census Bureau, the DOC does not distinguish between Anglo and Hispanic inmates.)
● In the center of the card, below the six items of information, is my name (last name first).
● In the upper right-hand corner is my mug shot, the same picture that appears on the DOC website. The picture was taken on the day I arrived at the Main Unit in June 2008 after I had been shorn with a super buzz cut. By looking at this picture, one can tell that I am definitely the hardened criminal that I am purported to be. But of the other inmate pictures I have seen, none are particularly complimentary.
The real value of the ID tag is what appears at the bottom: a bar code which, when scanned by the canteen operator, allows purchases at the canteen. More about the canteen in a subsequent article.
There is one other interesting facet of the ID tag that is not otherwise publicized: on the tag the DC number is preceded with either the number zero or a letter that represents the number of prior times the individual has been a prisoner (with 'A' being one, 'B' being two, etc.). Since this is my first time, my DC number is preceded by a zero. But this can be misleading because other inmates who have been incarcerated for a long time may also have a zero if they have served one continuous prison sentence.
Why the DOC chooses to publicize this information is uncertain. What would be more meaningful is if the ID tag showed the calendar year the inmate was first incarcerated in the state prison system. Insight into how long an individual has been imprisoned can be gleaned by noting his DC number – the lower the number the longer the prison time. But this in itself is not entirely foolproof; there is one inmate at this institution whose DC number is below 100.
At one time the DC number was a true
six digit number. But as the prison population swelled, letters had to be used
as the initial character. My DC number begins with the letter 'B.” Someone once
said this letter stands for
With the use of a clip, the ID tag is affixed to a tab present on the right side of the uniform shirt. We are required to wear the tag at all times when we are outside the dormitory. At those times when the uniform shirt is not required – the Class B and C uniforms – the tag is generally affixed somewhere on the T-shirt.
Wearing of the ID tag while outside the dormitory may be the only disciplinary requirement on which the entire correctional staff can agree, and they are trained to observe that we comply. Failure to wear the tag at a particular time may, however, not be the serious infraction you would otherwise assume. For example, if you are going to a meal (aka chow) and are observed not wearing the tag, you would be ordered to return to the dormitory to retrieve it. As a consequence, your meal would then be delayed. For obvious reasons, wearing the tag becomes mechanical.
I have been told, although I have not confirmed, that chapter 33 also requires us to wear the ID tag while inside the dormitory (except when going to the shower). But this requirement does not seem to be enforced at this institution although it may be at other facilities. Some inmates choose to wear their ID tags while inside the dormitory; most, including myself, generally do not.
As I conclude, here is something else for you to ponder: If you were to meet an inmate on the evening before he was due to be released from prison – especially if he had been incarcerated for a long time – how would you expect this individual to act? Would he be:
(a) Optimistic and cheerful? Or
(b) Reserved, even apprehensive?
If you answered (a) you could be mistaken. More about this next month.
Until then, be well.
Harold Main menu.
PS: I was not aware that I would have some canteen privileges during confinement (I had assumed that along with the telephone, my canteen privileges would be suspended). The items on the confinement canteen order form are a small subset of the items available (the prices are are the same). In the upper right-hand corner, after the expression “CONFINEMENT STAFF MUST CIRCLE ONE,” A/C stands for Administrative Confinement and D/C stands for Disciplinary Confinement. [Note from M. Singer: If you have a PDF reader, click on the link to see a copy of the Canteen Order Form.]
Harold Main menu.
Main menu. July 2010
Greetings! I trust you enjoyed last month's article. I would not normally have been so bombastic (“turgid” is another good word and is synonymous with “bombastic”) but I felt there was much to say to explain my silence during the previous ten months. My appreciation to Mac for the added work he had to perform.
I thought it would be informative to describe how these articles come to fruition. Before my incarceration, I was “high tech”: a personal computer and word processing software (Microsoft Word). Now I am “low tech”: three-ring notebook paper (like we used in high school) and a BIC stick pen, both purchased at the canteen. I write a “draft” version in cursive and then a final copy in script that I send to Mac. He transcribes it and sends me a printed copy (this way I have a record of what I have written in the past). I then inform him of any corrections.
I frequently wonder if the Department of Corrections will ever enter the 21st century. One of my “fantasies” is some day during my imprisonment to have a personal computer. But this is extremely unlikely. Just the simple process of, say, recharging batteries on a notebook would be a major undertaking. Although there are electrical outlets in the dormitory, I'm sure the DOC would never believe we could be trusted to use them safely. About the only use for the outlets is when the floors are buffed a couple times a year (the floors are linoleum).
For this month I thought I would revisit some of the issues I raised in last month's article. Next month I'll begin to describe some of the aspects of daily life in the South Unit. Insofar as my relations with and feelings toward the other inmates are concerned, I stated I have become judgmental and overly critical. And then I proceeded to give examples of these feelings by describing how certain inmates view their crimes. I find that these feelings are reflective of my particular frame of mind: when I am in a depressive state, I tend to be judgmental and critical but in a more manic state, as I have been for the past month, I tend to be understanding and empathetic. Obviously, I will need to strive for greater equilibrium in these feelings. I don't think I will ever be truly “friendly” with other inmates – for reasons that I commented on last month, we have little in common other than age – but I can at least be tolerant and accepting. Someone once said to me that you never have “friends” in prison because of the possibility of being transferred to another institution.
You may be wondering: How do I view my crime? Am I proud of what I did? Definitely not. I said last month that it is incredulous that I would be spending this stage of my life in prison. Actually, a more apt descriptor is “mortified.” Do I have regrets for what I did? Interestingly, no. What I have regrets for are the circumstances that led to my imprisonment. For there were many “maybes” that, with the benefit of hindsight, could have prevented this sordid affair. But would I attempt to reprise my action if given the opportunity to do so? Certainly not. Nothing would be gained by it; too many people have suffered enough already. Now, almost three years after the event, I have come to accept it and have no unpleasant experiences.
Update: I devoted much of last month's article to the various work assignments I have had and described the ultimate assignment I have been seeking. In mid-May I sent another of the ever-popular Inmate Requests to my Classification Officer basically imploring her about the possibility of my ever becoming an education instructor (I think she realizes that my testing at a ninth grade level – as I reported last month – must be some kind of mistake). Shortly thereafter, I had occasion to talk to some inmates about this. They said I would need to continue to be assertive (in belief that DOC personnel would forget unless I periodically remind them) and one suggested that I should document the educational programs I have in mind.
I am pleased to report that
something positive may come from this. In early June, at the time I was writing
last month's article, I had a meeting with my Classification Officer (in
response to my request) and I presented to her the initial outline of
continuing education programs, directed to the senior inmates, in mathematics
and English. She seemed interested for she said that she herself is considering
forming a couple of classes to assist the inmates in their “reentry” to society
(I believe she acknowledges that this institution has not done a particularly
effective job in re-acclimating inmates). She asked me to develop curricula for
these programs but did state however, that approval would be required from the
Warden, Assistant Warden, and DOC personnel in
I would like to conclude by offering another interesting facet of the prisoner's mentality. Here's something for you to ponder: If you met someone for the first time, what would be the next thing you would say to this person after, presumably, giving him orher your name?
Early last year an inmate moved into the dormitory in one of the beds next to mine. We didn't say anything to each other at the time but a day or two later I was sitting in the recreation yard when he jogged by. He turned and introduced himself and then proceeded to tell me he had been “down” for twenty-six years.
I was astonished by this statement: that this man would tell me how long he has been in prison immediately after giving me his name. Does this man believe that spending most of his adult life in prison is his most noteworthy accomplishment? Is this the legacy by which he wants to be remembered? I have heard similar statements expressed by other inmates. Many of them feel that they are “owed” something for what they have endured. But as an inmate said to me one time: “Their best behavior got them here [into prison].”
Until next time, be well.
Harold Main menu.
Main menu. June 2010
Greeting! I used to begin these articles with “Greetings Classmates!” but with the global reach of the Internet, the audience for the articles has not been limited to my high school classmates. In fact, an actuary whom I first met over forty years ago was able to locate me as a result of these articles.
An explanation for my silence during these past ten months definitely seems to be in order and this article will attempt to provide that. I will divide it into three themes as each has had a bearing on this issue:
1. My health, in which I reference some of the medical services I have received and how my health has affected my perception of the adaptability to prison life.
2. Work assignments, and how some of them have actually been an impediment to achieving my ultimate objective. In this theme, I will describe an incident that bespeaks of the relationship, at least in my opinion, between the Department of Corrections (DOC) and the inmates.
3. Mind-set, far and away the most significant of the themes, in which I address my frame of mind as it has existed during this self-imposed exile.
Health
I became eligible for Medicare in March 2006. Probably like other people in similar circumstances, I undertook a major health regimen at that time. In June of that year – as I’ve already mentioned to the classmates, although not in these articles – I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. I elected a prostatectomy as being the treatment that would least likely result in a recurrence of the malignancy. The surgery was scheduled during the first week of August but it was aborted in midstream; the urologist, who was also the surgeon, told me after the operation that had he removed my prostate, there was a distinct possibility that I would forever have to wear an adult diaper – not something that leads to a high quality of life. I then undertook one of the alternative treatments and had forty-one doses of external beam radiation. Blood tests that I’ve had since the radiation treatments, and continue to have even at this institution, reveal that my PSA readings seem to be at acceptable levels indicating that the disease may be under control. The important point here is that with all that prison life imposes, I cannot become fixated on the likely future course of this condition; all I can do is respond accordingly if and when the need arises.
Between going on Medicare and my incarceration in July, 2007, I experienced on two or three occasions something more unnerving and something, in retrospect, that I should have addressed at the time: tightness in the chest, pains in the shoulders and triceps, and profuse sweating. After about five minutes, the symptoms dissipate. For over two years of incarceration, including time in the Broward County Jail, there had been no recurrences until the Friday before Labor Day last year. But this time the circumstances were greatly different: before I was lying in bed at home; now, in mid-morning, I was upright, mopping a floor in the office of one of the Classification department employees (see next section for a description of this work assignment). Again, after a respite of about five minutes, the symptoms disappeared. At the encouragement of the classification employee whose office I was cleaning, I decided to seek medical attention. I submitted a sick request – the standard procedure for requesting medical services unless an emergency exists. What then followed were activities that I will describe in chronological order:
1. Early during the following week after submitting the sick call request, I was called in for an EKG and a consultation with one of the doctors. The EKG revealed an arrhythmia (irregular heartbeat); uncertain though, if this was the cause of what I had experienced. The doctor indicated that I would need to be referred to a cardiologist for further consultation.
2. I was given a sonogram of the heart which, as I understand, is used to measure blood flow. A follow-up consultation with the doctor (same one as before) revealed that the results of this test were negative.
3. I was transported
to the Main Unit of the
4. Early in the
morning of November 4, I was transported to the hospital.
Consistent with the Department of Corrections’ strategy when dealing with “hardened” criminals (even if of an advanced age), we were handcuffed before being placed in the van. A shackle was placed around our legs. Upon arriving at the hospital, the handcuffs were removed but the leg shackle remained. We were not exactly inconspicuous at the hospital – in our blue uniforms (I described the dress code in a prior article) with a shackle around out legs – but the hospital staff was professional and we were treated no differently then if we had been civilians.
I had a cardiac stress test many years ago using the technology that existed at the time: on a treadmill while being hooked up to an electrocardiograph. Now, the procedure falls into the category of “nuclear medicine:” a catheter is inserted into the arm. While in a recumbent position, and hooked up to the electrocardiograph, a chemical solution is inserted into the catheter that stimulates the heart as though being on a treadmill. The entire procedure takes about ten minutes. Unpleasant? Not really, except perhaps when the catheter is inserted.
Rather than belabor this issue any further, and as you may be wondering about the outcome, I am happy to report that the results were negative. Further, there have been no recurrences since late August of the incident that precipitated the testing.
But how do you explain the cause of the symptoms? Stress?Possible. Asymptomatic? I suppose that’s also possible.
How do these health issues, and any that may arise in the future, influence my adaptability to prison life? I will cover prison medical services in greater detail in a subsequent article. These services and, more important, their timeliness, are the greatest concern to most senior inmates at this institution. A serious illness or an emergency may very well be a death sentence. Just the mere fact of having an ambulance sent to the institution is a major undertaking. I understand that more established penal institutions in the state don’t have anywhere near these problems. On the other hand, these institutions don’t have to deal with the special medical requirements applicable to a sizable senior inmate population.
I have ambivalent feelings about how proactive I want to be in dealing with
my health and related medical issues. I am reminded of a scene from one of
Oliver Stone’s Vietnam War movies – Platoon – which, incidentally, won the
Academy Award in 1986 for best picture. Toward the beginning of the movie, one
of the protagonists, having recently arrived in
Work Assignments
As with other subjects I’ve addressed in this article, I will discuss this issue in greater detail probably devoting an entire article to it because of its importance (almost all work at this institution – other than security – is done by inmate labor) and to the fact that it may be the only activity in which some inmates are engaged, that is for those who care to work. For some inmates, shirking any form of responsibility is a full-time endeavor. For this article I will mention the work assignments I have had, relate an anecdote that arose during one of these assignments, and describe how plans for achieving my desired assignment have been continuously thwarted.
I have the ignominious distinction of having seven work assignments in six different venues – during the past fifteen months (perhaps a record at this institution). These assignments, in chronological order, starting with the oldest, are as follows:
1. Impaired Inmate Assistant, aka “wheelchair pusher” - This was the assignment I was given when I first arrived at the South Unit in July 2008 probably because the Classification department (see below for a description of this department) had difficulty deciding where to place me although, admittedly, there may have been the need at the time for a pusher. This activity, which entailed pushing an inmate who was confined to a wheelchair, ended when the impaired inmate, i.e., the “pushee,” was transferred to another institution.
2. Laundry – For this assignment, I was delegated to the “folding tables” where, along with similarly situated inmates, I had the responsibility of folding the sundry items that came out of the dryers such as uniforms (shirts and pants), sheets, pillow cases, towels, et. al. Occasionally, some interesting items would come through for folding such as a “turtle suit:” a green, heavily quilted fabric with Velcro straps that is used to constrain someone who is actively suicidal. At this time, I befriended an inmate who was working as an orderly in the Classification department. He asked if I would be interested in this assignment, initially working with him. I accepted because I felt it would enable the Classification department staff to become familiar with me which, I had hoped, would enhance the chances of achieving my desired work assignment. In addition, the Classification assignment was attractive because it was during last summer and the department is in one of the few buildings at this institution that is air-conditioned. So, I embarked on my third assignment – Classification Orderly.
3. Classification Orderly – This institution uses the term “orderly” to refer to an inmate who performs menial chores within a department, generally of a janitorial nature. Even if the Department of Corrections were to feel that an inmate is competent, it is rare that the inmate would be given anything responsible to do because of concerns for security.
Classification is the department within each institution that deals with inmate issues other than medical and housing. Some of their functions are visitation requests, telephone approvals (all visitor requests and telephone recipients must be screened and pre-approved) and, the most significant one, work assignments. The denouement that eventually led to my termination from this assignment is worth recounting because it is indicative of how the DOC views the inmates it is entrusted to control and how it believes such inmates should behave.
I had had some issues with one of the Classification employees – in my mind nothing significant although the employee may view them differently. This employee is a woman whose primary responsibility is dealing with the younger inmates at this institution. Therefore, her conception of a “typical” prison inmate may not be applicable to an older inmate and especially one who was incarcerated initially at an older age.
In the Classification department is a room, referred to as the “break room,” consisting of a table, some chairs and a credenza. The room also holds the cleaning supplies the orderly would use in the performance of his work. On the credenza are an ice bucket (actually a water cooler used as a bucket), a small toaster oven, a small microwave and a 12-cup coffee maker. (Note: One of the perks, I lost when this assignment terminated was the opportunity to pilfer coffee throughout the day. This is “real” coffee, not the instant rotgut we are forced to buy at the canteen.) One of my duties as orderly was cleaning the coffeemaker and carafe at the end of the day.
For some reason, however, the filters that were being used in the coffeemaker were for a 4-cup machine. It so happens that the Classification employee I previously described has responsibility for the purchasing of the coffee and related supplies and the making of the coffee at the beginning of each morning. You may be able to see where this story is going to lead.
Late Friday one afternoon this employee commanded me, in somewhat strident tones, to ensure that the coffeemaker was clean because there were grounds at the bottom of the carafe. At this point, what most inmates would have said and what they would have suggested that I should have said, is something like: “Yes, ma’am, I’ll make sure the coffeemaker is clean.” Knowing that I had been attentive to the cleaning of the carafe, and since the cause of the problem was apparent, was I going to act in this fashion? Of course not! My response to her was that the reason for the grounds at the bottom of the carafe was because the filter that was being used was too small for the coffeemaker and the quantity of coffee being made. Her reply to me was that there was nothing wrong with the filter.
For the better part of the ensuing weekend, I stewed over what was likely to happen when I reported back for work on Monday morning. When I did so, I noticed that on top of the microwave, which is where the coffee supplies were stored, there was a package of filters for an 8 to 12-cup machine, the kind that should have been used all along. But the package was unopened for inside the coffeemaker was, presumably, the last of the 4-cup filters. Of course, the predictable happened: the filter, being too small for the basket and the quantity of coffee, caused the water to overflow the top of the filter putting coffee grounds into the carafe.
Shortly after this incident and possibly as a result of it, my duties as Classification Orderly were terminated. To this day, this employee has never acknowledged, at least to me, that in this one instance, she was wrong and an inmate was correct. Despite the outcome, I do not in the least regret not acting in the blindly obsequious manner she would have expected.
4. Laundry Redux – After leaving the Classification department, I returned to the laundry although, at the time, the department wanted to assign me to Food Services which, as you will see, happens to be my current assignment.
At this time, it is appropriate to digress and describe the work assignment that has been my ultimate objective. It has influenced some of the work assignment issues that arose.
Upon arriving at the Broward County jail in July 2007, I was stationed at remote locations, Four months later I was transferred to the main jail, first on the sixth floor and then on the fifth. Once a week, an individual on each floor, with the title of GED facilitator, would come into the housing area and dispense tests and study material to the inmates studying for the GED. At this time, it became known that I had a mathematics background so I began tutoring some of them. Although I did not subsequently spend significant time at it, I believe the inmates were benefited by it and they appreciated my efforts to help them. I decided then that, if I were to spend any appreciable time in the state prison system, I would strive to make this my work assignment. Unfortunately, this effort seems to be continually thwarted.
Back to a discussion of work assignments . . .
5. Recreation Orderly – While in the laundry for my second stint, it comes to my attention, again from the Classification Orderly I had befriended, that there were plans afoot to form a GED class and that if I was interested in being an instructor, I should submit a request to the Wellness department. The reason for the Wellness department, which is principally the recreation yard and related activities, is that the DOC employee who supervises the department also has responsibility for any classroom activities at the institution. But almost immediately transferring to the Wellness department, planning for any educational programs is inexplicably terminated and I now become a cleaning orderly with primary responsibility for cleaning the officers’ restroom in the recreation yard pavilion. Adding to the humiliation of the assignment is that it was during the winter and the pavilion is an open-air building with no heat. (Even in this part of the state, it can be unpleasant in the South Unit during the winter because of the wide open space. Also, we do not have adequate clothing for colder weather.)
It was at this time – end of last year / beginning of this year – that events became truly bizarre, as if they haven’t been to some extent already.
When it became apparent that no educational classes will be organized, I sent an inmate request* to the Classification department in which I wrote: “I would not have requested this transfer (to the Wellness department) if I had known I would be given the assignment of Cleaning Orderly. If it is felt that I am not worthy of being an educational instructor, I would request a return to my previous assignment in the laundry.”
*As its name implies, the Inmate Request form is the document for communicating with the correctional staff. Unfortunately, the inmate may never receive a response to any particular request.
The response I received is not from the Classification representative to
whom I had been previously assigned but from a new employee who, unbeknownst to
me, had become my new representative. Her response was most enlightening: “A
review of your program screen revealed that you have no training or skills in
being an instructor. At this time, your job assignment will remain the same.” I
later found out that the reason for this response is that, according to the
TABE (Test of Adult Basic Education) I took as part of my orientation in June
2008, I scored at the ninth grade level. I’m sure the faculties at
Now for the sixth work assignment . . .
6. Dog Training Program – New Horizons Service Dogs is a philanthropic organization in the state that trains dogs to be given to mobility-impaired individuals. There is a program underway at another institution in which inmates perform the training of the dogs and the warden at this institution felt that this is something that would interest the senior inmates. (Note: It is conjectured that the motivation for the program is not philanthropy but rather money as it is presumed that the DOC receives funding for the training of the dogs.) The program began on February 22 when six 11 week-old golden retriever puppies were brought to the institution. How I came to be “selected” for this assignment, and its aftermath, is the subject of another interesting story that I will recount in a future article.
On the following day – February 23 – the DOC employee responsible for the Wellness department – the same one who oversees the education classes – came to the dormitory where I was residing (I had to move to another dormitory – all the dogs and the trainers are housed in the same dormitory wing) and asked if I was still interested in being an instructor. “Of course,” I replied. So, she suggested that I write her a request. I promptly complied yet two days later her response was: “At the present time, your new responsibility will be with the Dog Program. However, your name will be added as an addition [sic] classroom instructor.”
At the end of February a notice appears that reads as follows: “If you are
interested in teaching a GED class, please submit an Inmate Request to your
Classification Officer by Tuesday, March 2, 2010. You must have completed the
inmate teaching assistant program in order to be an instructor.” What is
this “inmate teaching assistant program?” In all communications I have had
with Classification employees, both in the
If you’re befuddled by all of this, worry not. I am living through it first hand and it is even incomprehensible to me. Mercifully, we are almost at the end.
Early in the dog training program, it appears evident that there are going to be problems and, more important, that I don’t have the requisite temperament to be an effective trainer (it is an 18-month program). So, I submit yet another inmate request, again asking to return to the laundry. This time, however, perhaps in retaliation for my overall conduct, I am assigned to Food Services.
So, on March 12, I begin my seventh – and current – work assignment . . .
7. Food Services – This activity occurs in the kitchen and dining hall (referred to as the “chow hall”) and deals with the cooking and serving of food to the inmates and the cleanup afterward. On my first assignment, I was on the “line” (à la cafeteria style) putting French dressing on salads. For the next couple of days, I assisted another inmate in the “dish room” storing the items that come out of the dishwasher. Lately, I began what is now my current function: along with two other inmates, cleaning the tables in the dining hall and sweeping/mopping afterward. I work during lunch and dinner every third day (work one day – off two).
The first job I ever had was as a busboy in a coffee shop. Now, 55 years later, I have come full circle.
And, still no education classes.
Mind-set
Far and away the most significant factor affecting my frame of mind has been my ever-changing feelings toward the correctional staff, other inmates, and prison life in general. These feelings are greatly different now than they were when I began my self-imposed exile ten months ago. In many respects, I have adapted better to the correctional staff and the resulting discipline; with respect to the other inmates, however, I have become judgmental and perhaps overly critical. I frequently say to myself, and have actually verbalized it onoccasion, that the only thing I may have in common with the other inmates is that we are all about the same age. So, for the most part, I mainly keep to myself. I feel this serves me well as I avoid much of the politics and conflicts that seem to be widespread.
Many of the inmates, particularly those who have been incarcerated a long time, suffer from what I term “institutional brainwashing.” They function as automata – programmed to act in a prescribed and routine manner and seem to be incapable of exercising any independent thought or action. Some of these inmates feel they can and should be released from prison; I don’t see how they will be able to deal with the vagaries of life on the outside. When I describe the meals in a future article, I can give a specific example of this.
One of the more interesting phenomena is how inmates view their crimes.
Admission is rare; denial and rationalization are rife. One of the first things
I heard in the
1. Some inmates don’t see that they did
anything wrong. Others believe their actions actually contributed to the public
good. One inmate is serving a second sentence for a major drug trafficking
offense. But as he dealt only in marijuana, he feels his conduct is more
acceptable than traffickers who deal in more “illicit” substances such as
cocaine or heroin. He said to me one time: “I made people happy.” Another
inmate, serving time for having sexual relations with a minor female, considers
his conduct permissible because the relations, in his mind, were consensual or
the female was a teenage prostitute. In
2. Some inmates immerse themselves in religion believing their prayers and supplications will bring them absolution. Others use religion in a slightly different manner: to give them strength to deal with the stress of prison life. It is not my intention to be blasphemous or to deprecate the influence of religion. I only raise this issue to question the sincerity of some people’s beliefs. Religion, of all denominations, has a strong presence in prison and there is no denying that many inmates derive comfort from it.
3. One inmate in the dormitory I call “Mr. Goody, Goody.” He approaches everyone with an effusive greeting asking, “How are things going?” I believe he does this to demonstrate to himself that he really is not the immoral person his crimes would lead one to believe. He is serving four life sentences.
I have been a loner most of my life (those who remember me from high school can attest to that). During the forty-five years from when I graduated college to my incarceration, I lived alone for all but seven of those years. And the seven years – when I was married – were somewhat of an aberration. Being in an open-bay dormitory with up to forty-five other inmates is definitely an adjustment process for me. (Maximum capacity in each dormitory wing is forty-six but we currently have four empty beds. Anyone interested in trying out this way of life can be assured that the Department of Corrections will always have room for you.) I sometimes wonder if I would be better served by being in isolation or in a two-man cell as at other institutions.
Even after almost three years, this still seems a surreal experience. At
times, I find it incredulous that at sixty-nine years of age, I am spending
what may be the rest of my life in prison. When I first arrived at the
Permit me to be sentimental for a moment. Many of you know how I feel about ‘50s music, the music of our high school years. There is a song from that era that I don’t remember from that time but hear occasionally on a local radio station that plays doo-wop music on Sunday afternoon. The song is significant to me because of the poignancy of the title: My Memories of You. For it is these memories – what I have accomplished and the people I have met – that give me solace to deal with the way of life I currently have. Sadly, many inmates can never experience these memories; they have spent much of their adult lives in prison. Nonetheless, I try not to “relive” these memories but merely reflect on them; I cannot allow anything to detract from the overriding mission of living “one day at a time.”
I’d like to conclude by reprising a theme I presented in one of my early articles. I described an inmate in the dormitory who has been “down” over 40 years and will be 127 years old when he reaches his release date. I wondered what has kept him going during his years of imprisonment. He is far from an isolated case. I have met another inmate – a habitual offender – who freely acknowledges that, in his words, “I’ll probably die in this place.” Yet, for all his idiosyncrasies – he can do things that would be considered disciplinary infractions if done by other inmates – he may have the most positive attitude: despite all the hardships, he has made a life for himself. This is what other inmates have done to varying degrees and something to which I will need to continually strive.
Until next month, be well.
Harold Sherry Main menu.
Main menu. July 2009
Greetings classmates! For this month, I'd like to continue the theme I began in the May 2009 article – “A Typical Day” here in the South Unit! But, first . . .
Some Statistics
Last month, in discussing the DOC annual report, I stated that the number of correctional institutions in the state was five at the time of our graduation from SBHS. Fifty years later this number had grown to 60. I was wondering what the comparable figures are for the number of prisoners and the overall state population.
Number of Prisoners
There is an inmate in the dormitory who first
entered the
State Population
According to the 1960 census, the population of
Conclusions
We have a twelve-fold increase in the number of
correctional institutions, a twenty-eight fold increase in the number of
prisoners, yet the overall state population increased only by a factor of less
than five. Do these statistics mean that the state has been over-zealous in its
treatment of crime. Perhaps, but not so fast! These
raw figures ignore the pervasive influence of drugs during this period,
particularly the effect of crack cocaine over the past twenty-five years. What
would be meaningful would be to examine comparable statistics for other states,
particularly those with sizable prison populations such as
A Typical Day – Part Deux
I previously reported that each dormitory building consists of two wings with 46 beds each. There are two rows of twelve beds along the walls and two rows of eleven beds in the center. If the arithmetic is correct, this should be a total of 46 beds. All beds are individual; there are no double beds. Now, if you naturally assume that senior inmates would be assigned to a single or lower bed, you would be mistaken. I have been told that a senior inmate at other institutions without dedicated senior housing could be assigned to an upper bed unless the inmate has what is referred to as a “lower bunk pass” - some kind of medical authorization that stipulates he can be assigned only to a lower bed. These prison double beds are not some nice furniture store beds with a ladder to the upper bed. The sight of some senior inmates attempting to navigate an upper bed would not be a pretty one. To me, the thought of sleeping five feet off the ground would be especially unnerving.
The bed is about the length of a single bed but narrower. We are issued a mattress, one pillow, two sheets, a pillow case and one blanket. Some inmates had two blankets but one afternoon this past winter there was an inspection and the extra blankets were confiscated. Chapter 33 of the Florida Administrative Code allows us to have two towels but in the South Unit we are issued only one. This is generally not a problem as laundry is done three times a week. But, if you have “influence” with specific inmates, you can get a second towel. I have been told that wash cloths are also available from the laundry but I bought two at the canteen.
In addition to the bed and its accoutrements, we are issued a locker – a rusted, roach-infested piece of metal about six cubic feet in volume. Some inmates, again those with “influence,” have a larger locker, about eight cubic feet. Under the bed is a pull-out drawer that serves as an additional storage facility; it, too, is rusted but not as roach-infested as it is about foot off the floor.
Uniforms (i.e., Dress Code)
Chapter 33-602.101 addresses the uniform requirements (of which there are three designated as Class A, B and C) and the situations under which each of the various classes applies. I will attempt to paraphrase the statutory language because I find this section of the code confusing and because the procedures that are actually followed in the South Unit may vary slightly from what the code mandates.
The basic uniform designated as the Class A uniform, consists of the following:
● Outer shirt – V neck pullover, short sleeve
● Pants
● Web belt
Through “creative processes,” some inmates have a conventional outer shirt with a collar and buttons. Other inmates may have medical authorization that allows them to wear a long sleeve shirt. Lastly, some inmates wear a traditional belt in lieu of the web belt.
The color of the outer shirt and pants are blue that I find difficult to describe: darker that azure (sky blue) but lighter than navy. The pants have a white stripe down each leg. The younger inmates housed in one of the dormitories in the South Unit – those who work outside the facility – wear white uniforms (some of the pants have a blue stripe down the legs).
Underneath the uniform are the following:
● T-shirt – white, short sleeve (per the DOC annual report, death row inmates wear an orange T-shirt)
● Shorts – boxer shorts, not briefs
● Socks – white, sweat-socks
For footwear, there are three choices:
● Black work-boots – these can either be issued by the state to an inmate who has a work assignment that allows him to wear them (e.g. food service) or purchased from another inmate which is what I did shortly after arriving at the South Unit (the cost was one bag of the Nescafe instant coffee - $3.21 at the then-going price)
● Athletic shoes that can be purchased at the canteen. These are of inferior quality to brands that are available outside – such as Nike, Reebok or K Swiss – but the cost is also less.
● Navy canvas deck shoes that I have been told Wal-Mart sells for about $3-4.
For special weather conditions, additional clothing can be worn: sweatshirts and thermal underwear during the winter and a poncho when it rains. These items can be purchased from the canteen. In the late October – early November time frame, for about a six month period, we are issued a jacket. To be given one that is not shopworn or fits reasonably well is a significant accomplishment.
The Class B uniform is the same as the Class A uniform except the outer shirt (either pullover or collar) is not required. The Class C uniform is the same the Class B uniform except that “authorized athletic shorts” can be substituted for the pants. These “authorized athletic shorts” can be red hand-me-downs from the laundry or blue ones purchased from the canteen.
For obvious reasons, uniforms for female inmates are somewhat different.
Describing the circumstances under which each of these various uniforms can, or must, be worn is when things get confusing. All activities on Compound 1 – meals, medical, library, visitation, et al. - require the Class A uniform. On Compound 2 (dormitories and canteens) and Compound 3 (recreation yard), the Class C uniform can be worn at any time (when the compounds are open, of course). The Class B uniform can be worn on Compounds 2 and 3 at any time on Saturdays, Sundays and major holidays and after 5:00 PM on weekdays. What this means is that during a weekday afternoon I can be outside in a T-shirt if I am wearing athletic shorts but not if I am wearing the uniform pants. This doesn't seem to make sense but much of what happens here is nonsensical anyway.
There is one more uniform-related item that is of greater import than all the other items – the ID tag. This is a story in itself that I'll cover next month.
Until next month, be well.
Harold Sherry Main menu.
Main menu. June 2009
For this month's article, I had planned to continue the theme I presented
last month - describing a typical day here in the South Unit. But I'd like to
digress and discuss a number of other issues related to life in the
I had occasion to see a copy of the report for the fiscal year ending June 30, 2008. The document says that the report can also be found online at:
http://www.dc.state.fl.us/pub/annual/0708
The inside front cover says that “Inmates working at PRIDE North Florida
Graphics Division located at Calhoun Correctional Institution (CI) printed this
annual report as part of their vocational training in the printing process.” As
stated on page 25 of the report, PRIDE, which stands for Prison Rehabilitation
Industries and Diversified Training Enterprises, is a “state-authorized
private, not for profit, internationally recognized inmate training company
operating general manufacturing and service facilities in correctional
institutions throughout the state of
Whoever prepared the data for publication in the report - whether inmates or
DOC employees in
Nonetheless, the document contains some interesting information. When we started at South Broward High School in September 1954, there were three correctional institutions in the state: Apalachee CI (East Unit) which opened in 1949 (this may have been a youthful offender institution at the time), Glades CI, opened in 1932 (this was the facility for Black inmates; as with the schools, prisons were segregated at the time), and the big one, Union CI, opened in 1913. I seem to recall that we referred to this facility as Raiford. During our four years at SBHS, two additional facilities opened - Lowell CI in 1956 and Avon Park CI in 1957. At June 30, 2008 - fifty years after our graduation - the number of correctional institutions in the state was 60. Counting work camps, boot camps, work release centers and road prisons, the total number of facilities was 139. Inmate population on June 30, 2008 was 98,192. But, as previouly reported, this figure now exceeds 100,000.
The department of Corrections budget for the fiscal year was slightly less than $2.5 billion. In the budget statement, there is an interesting item: Revenue from Canteen operations - slightly greater than $30 million. This item, however, is not direct revenue from canteen sales, as you might be led to believe, but rather a per diem the commissary company (Keefe Commissary Network) pays to the DOC based on inmate count. You can form your own opinion as to the rationale for this item.
Because of the relaxed atmosphere at the South Unit, some of the inmates refer to it not as a conventional prison, but rather as a geriatric facility or old folks home. Yet, despite the comfortable environment, it is surprising the number of inmates who would leave in a heartbeat and some have had transfer requests pending for up to three years. I even had one inmate who has been down* 44 years tell me at dinner one evening that this is the worst facility he has been in. I can understand why he would say this and I would have no reason to question his honesty (he subsequently got his wish - shortly after making this statement, he was transferred to another institution).
* Being a subculture all to itself, prison life naturally has its own vernacular. To be “down” means to be in prison.
As you read the articles and I describe prison life, you may say to yourself something like, “From what Harold says, prison life doesn't sound all that bad.” For some inmates, there is no denying this is an attractive lifestyle: a safe environment, no alcohol or drugs, three square meals a day, laundry three times a week, et al. It is equally apparent that some senior inmates are alive today only because they have been in prison for most of their adult lives.
Confusing my droll commentary for criticism, some of you may be tempted to
ask the following question: “Can't this man (namely me) say anything positive
about prison life?” Let me respond by relaying a story to you. For only a three
week period, my work assignment consisted of being a laundry worker (the reason
the assignment was so short-lived is that I was “promoted” to a different
assignment). I will explain more about work assignments in a subsequent
article. One of the other laundry workers is a foreign-born inmate. There is
some dispute as to this man's native country: one inmate told me he is from
Special note: I mentioned in the last month's article that in the TV room (or day room) there is a water fountain that dispenses both hot and cold water. After the cold water dispenser broke twice and the hot water spigot leaked, the old fountain finally bit the dust. But, I'm happy to report that we have a new modern water fountain. We were wondering if the hot water from this fountain is hotter than the water from the old fountain. One of the inmates stuck his finger under the spigot and he can definitely confirm that it is hotter.
Until next month, be well. Main menu.
Main menu. May 2009
Greetings classmates. Finally after five months of “preliminaries,” I can begin to tell you what prison life is like.
But I lie – just one more preliminary. You should
understand that the penal system in this country is in crisis mode, and I say
this not out of a self-serving need for sympathy. I call your attention to the
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“
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Enough said.
A Typical Day
What is a typical day in the South Unit of the
The day begins when lights in the dormitory are turned on at 5:30 AM. (Note – in this edition, I’ll describe the activities that occur on a typical weekday. There are some slight variations for weekends and major holidays that I’ll address at the end.) Breakfast is generally between 6:00 and 7:00, lunch between 12:00 and 1:00, and dinner between 4:30 and 5:30. I say “generally” because there are any number of situations that can alter this schedule. For example, there have been some mornings when the facility has been shrouded in fog. When this happens, the DOC, perhaps as an over-reaction to the possibility of escape (i.e., the concern that senior inmates, some of whom use canes, walkers and wheelchairs, could use the fog to mask an attempt to traverse a twenty foot high fence topped with razor wire), resorts to what is called “controlled movement” – only one dormitory at a time goes to the dining hall under close security of the correctional officers. Naturally, this extends the breakfast time for all inmates.
Recall that the South Unit consists of three areas or compounds:
Compound 1 - contains the dining hall (chow hall), laundry, chapel, medical, library and the various administration offices
Compound 2 - contains the dormitories and the two canteens
Compound 3 - contains the recreation yard (about 1 hectare or 2.5 acres in size)
Unless one is a houseman,* one has to be out of the dormitory between 8:30 and 11:00 in the morning so the dormitory can be cleaned. This time is called “first yard.” This causes a good deal of problems in hot weather as there is a shortage of places that afford protection from the sun. The “second yard” goes from after lunch (generally about 1:00) to about 3:15; “third yard” lasts from after dinner for most inmates (about 5:00) to shortly before sunset. During standard time there is no “third yard.”
*A “houseman” is an inmate whose work assignment is in the dormitory, usually of a cleaning nature. There is one other instance where an inmate would not be required to leave the dormitory; if he has some kind of medical authorization that allows him to stay in bed.
What is there to do during these three “yard” periods? Regrettably, not much, and nowhere near as much as is available at other institutions, at least of an educational or recreational nature. Some inmates will have a work assignment that keeps them busy during first yard and most of second yard (more about work assignments in a subsequent article). Other inmates will use the second yard period to catch up on their sleep. The third yard is when there are many sporting and recreational activities in the recreation yard; more about these as well in a subsequent article.
What are the variations from the typical schedule that occur on weekends and major holidays? There are three:
1. During first yard, we are not required to leave the dormitory (another good time for sleeping).
2. There are some slight variations in the required dress code – more about this later.
3. For some inexplicable reason, during the week we are not allowed to shower until 5:00 PM, although most correctional officers are indifferent to this requirement and allow showers to start at 4:00 PM. On the weekends and holidays, showers can begin at 9:00 AM. In all cases, showers must end by that enigmatic process known as the 10:00 PM “count.”
Until next month, be well. Main menu.
Main menu. April 2009
Greetings classmates. For this month, I thought I’d continue on the theme of last month’s article by focusing on the human aspects of prison life. But there will be ample opportunity to describe the lunacy of the Department of Corrections.
I find there are a number of inmates here under circumstances not unlike mine – men who had been leading productive lives but who found themselves in untenable situations provoked into a violent response, what some would call “crimes of passion:” a man who reacted to the stalking and harassing of his daughter; a man who came home early from work one day and found his wife in bed with another man. I don’t have to tell you how these situations transpired or why these gentlemen are imprisoned.
Two of the oldest inmates in this institution will be 87 this calendar year
(born in 1922). One of the gentlemen has cancer and had been confined to a
wheelchair. I haven’t been able to understand why the state of
The gentlemen I mentioned above that had been confined to a wheelchair, had his wheelchair taken from him, about a week or so ago, and now must use a walker. He was not the sole wheelchair bound inmate so affected. I suspect this decision was made by the medical staff probably at the direction (or coercion) of the correctional staff who have a paranoia about what they perceive to be security risks.
Prison life may be the most demeaning, humiliating experience one can encounter and I would not wish it on anyone. But you quickly find out who your friends are. Many have been supportive during my adversity and I sincerely thank all of you. Others, who I thought were my friends, have treated me as a pariah. I fully understand where you are coming from and I hope, in time, you can also be supportive.
To me, the worst aspect of prison life is not the absence of personal freedoms. It may not even be the treatment at the hands of a zealous, correctional staff that is occasionally over-exuberant in the discipline directed at the inmates. It is the monotony. Although we have more freedom than inmates in other institutions, we see the same things every day. We talk to the same people every day (frequently about the same subjects). And, with the exception of events that occur at specific times, every day is pretty much the same. An example of an event that occurs at on a specific day is the linen exchange. Early Thursday morning – very early – we turn in our sheets and pillow case for washing. They are returned early in the afternoon. So, linen exchange becomes the defining moment for Thursdays. More about the laundry service when I describe prison life in detail.
The housing arrangement here in the South Unit is what is referred to as “open bay dormitory,” along the lines of a military barracks. Other institutions in the state follow the typical multi-inmate cell approach. I believe death row inmates reside in single man cells. When I arrived at the South Unit in July last year, I was assigned to ‘E’ dormitory (since we adopt the military parlance, this would be referred to as ‘Echo’ dormitory). The dormitory for the younger inmates (aka ‘jitterbugs”) is the ‘A’ (or Alpha) dormitory. The six dormitories for the senior inmates are labeled ‘B’ (Bravo) through ‘G’ (Golf). I became somewhat friendly with the inmate in one of the beds next to mine.
After a few weeks, we were both moved to ‘F’ (Foxtrot) dormitory although we are no longer in adjacent beds. He’s a few years older than us, born in 1937. He’s been in prison forty-three years. His release date is in the year 2064. He will be 127 years old at that time.
Before proceeding further, it may be enlightening to understand the reason why this inmate and I were moved to a different dormitory. Recall that in the January article, I described the five custody levels to which inmates are assigned with maximum custody (death row) being the most severe. The other inmate and I are at the next most severe level – close management or close custody. Well, it seemed that when I initially was assigned to the ‘E’ dormitory, the other inmate and I, along with some other inmates, were found to be housed in a dormitory with inmates with less severe custody levels such as medium or minimum. So, after this move, all close custody inmates are now housed in the same dormitory. Of course, we can commingle at all other times. Another example of how the Department of Corrections reacts to imagined security threats. Also, this serves as a make-work project for the administrative staff – moving inmates around.
This inmate did not get off to the best of starts. His mother died in childbirth at age 22. He was raised, and abused, by foster parents. He began stealing cars at age 12.
In a contemplative moment one evening, I asked him; “How do you do it?” That is, how he manages to survive knowing as he must that he will more than likely die in prison. Before he answered, I interjected, “But maybe the better question is why do you do it?” His answer was also immediate. “Because, if I give up, they win.” The “they” obviously referring to the prison system. At first, I discounted his answer. Penology is not a zero-sum game in which the winners exactly offset the losers. In fact, the prison system may be the only lose-lose situation in which all parties – the inmates and the correctional staff- are losers. But over time I’ve come to appreciate his answer. For no matter how dire our circumstances, we all have the hope that at some time in the future, we will once experience freedom. In my case, I have firmly believed that. Sadly, though, years of imprisonment can never be recaptured. Our life expectancy will not be extended to make up for this time.
Some of you have asked how I manage to cope. To survive in this milieu requires, literally, living one day at a time. Had I felt this way in the past, perhaps my life would have been more rewarding. Another necessary ingredient for survival is humor – to be able to laugh at the idiocy that constantly surrounds us. To take all this too seriously would be exceedingly depressive.
Until next month, be well. Main menu.
Main menu. March 2009
Greetings classmates. For this month’s installment, I’d like to discuss some additional preliminaries associated with being in prison. In covering some of these preliminaries, I can touch on the human aspect of prison life.
Chapter 33 of the Florida Administrative Code deals with the operation of the Department of Corrections. It covers both the security staff and the prison population. I will refer to it occasionally when discussing specific topics. It should be available online* and you may wish to access it. Some of the more interesting sections are as follows:
33-501.401
Admissible
33-601.314 Rules of Prohibited Conduct and Penalties for Infractions
33-601.713 to 33-601.730 Visitation
33-602.101 Care of Inmates(1)
33-602.201 Inmate Property(2)
33-602.203 Control of Contraband
* The URL of the Department of Corrections website is http://www.dc.state.fl.us/ and the link to the Florida Administrative Code is http://www.dc.state.fl.us/secretary/legal/ch33/
(1) This sections deals with inmate uniforms.
(2) “Property” refers to the items we can have in our possession and the quantity thereof.
For the first couple of months of my incarceration in the South Unit, I spent one morning each week in the law library researching Chapter 33. I figured that, if I was expected to abide by the rules, I should at least know what they are. Most of the time my research was done using the printed material. But one morning another inmate was using the book, so one of the law clerks asked if I wanted to use the computer. I had a good old time! A law clerk came by wanting to know if I needed any help; I asked if I was able to do Boolean searches. He thought for a minute, said yes, walked away, and never came back. As you would expect, using the computer made the research much easier.
I mentioned last month that the South Unit was formed during the early summer five years ago when senior inmates were transferred here from other facilities. But I was moved here directly from the Main Unit (the transient facility). This has engendered resentment on the part of some of the inmates who feel that I haven’t “paid my dues” in the prison system. One of the inmates in the dormitory even berated me for never having been in a “real prison” (he likens the South Unit to an “old men’s home”).
Granted that I am not a typical senior inmate (it’s not every day that
someone first enters the
As a senior facility, the South Unit is what I like to refer to as a “work in progress.” Insufficient attention has been given to what is actually required in dealing with the housing and care of a senior inmate population. None of the security staff has been trained in the special needs of senior inmates. Many of the officers feel that harassment should be part of our punishment, some of which borders on the trivial, such as the manner in which our beds are made. Inmates who have been in the military seem to function better in this environment. Never having been in the military and living alone for most of my adult life, this has been a learning experience for me; but I think I’m adapting to it.
One final topic: Some of the prison rules seem to be a legacy from days long past when prisons were run differently and no thought would have been given to special facilities for senior inmates. As an example, consider the following: the subject of contraband is a most fascinating one (as stated above, Section 33-602.703 of the Florida Administrative Code deals with this subject). In the General Definition of Contraband, Section 33-602.203(1)(b) reads as follows:
Any item or article not originally contraband shall be deemed contraband if it is passed from one inmate to another without authorization.
So, if I purchase a book from an outside source and give it to another inmate to read, the book will be confiscated and the recipient inmate may be subject to disciplinary action. Yet if I donate the book to the library, the other inmate can have access to it without penalty. This rule seems to be a relic from the days when prisoners were kept isolated, so if one prisoner had an item that belonged to another prisoner, chances are it was wither a weapon (or something that could be used as a weapon) or an illicit substance.
Have a good month and I’ll “talk” to you again at the end of April.
Harold Sherry Main menu.
Main menu. February 2009
Greetings classmates! I had hoped to use this edition of my ongoing saga to begin to tell you about typical prison life. But alas, that may have to wait as there are some additional preliminaries that may be worthwhile to address. These preliminaries may be helpful in adding context to matters I intend to cover in the future. I will discuss one of them in this edition; hopefully, you will find the information interesting.
In the last month’s edition I gave the demographics of the inmate population here in the South Unit. I commented that the number has been decreasing over the past few months – the current count is now below 600. I didn’t offer any reason for this phenomenon but two explanations are possible:
1 The Distribution by Custody level in last month’s edition showed that almost three-fourths of the inmates are at a close or medium custody level (as I write this article, based on the current count, 72.7% of the inmates are at these levels – exactly the same proportion as the previous count). In much the same way that inmates are categorized by the degree of custody they require, prison facilities are also categorized by their security characteristics – some facilities afford greater inmate freedom than others. The most restrictive facilities – designated Level 7 – are reserved for inmates at maximum custody (death row). Inmates at close or medium custody can be assigned to one of three facilities designated as Level 4 through Level 6 with Level 4 being the least restrictive. The South Unit is considered a Level 4 facility. With this fact in mind, recall that I mentioned last month that the South Unit was converted to a senior facility in early summer 2004. The inmates who were part of this conversion would have been transferred from other facilities but not all senior inmates would have been eligible – only those who, by their conduct, demonstrated that they could live in a less restrictive environment and would not be deemed a danger to other inmates or the correctional staff. By this logic, then, no senior inmates are being transferred here because there are none who would be eligible. This explanation does not seem plausible.
2
A more plausible explanation concerns the current economic situation in the
state and the impact on prison operation: the DOC does not want to incur the
expense of transferring an inmate, or inmates, to the South Unit from other
institutions. It may be enlightening to describe the prisoner transfer process.
Consider my transfer from the Main Unit to the South Unit in July 2008. The
transfer process begins when you are roused at 3:00 in the morning and told to
“pack it up.” For security reasons, you are not told when you are being
transferred until the time it happens nor are you told where you are being
transferred until you actually arrive at your destination. After this arousal,
there is breakfast, followed by an extensive strip-search, and the placement on
a bus along with other inmates who may be going to the same or other
facilities. Interspersed among these activities is the usual “sitting around
and waiting.” I eventually arrived at the South Unit at approximately 9:00 AM –
fully six hours after initially being informed of the transfer. Now, if you
realize that the address of the Main Unit is 14000 NW 41st Street
and recall that the South Unit is at 13910 NW 41st Street, you can
deduce that the two facilities are comparatively close to each other; were you
able to walk it directly, the entire trip from one unit to the other would take
about 20 minutes. Now, consider the transfer of a senior inmate from Century Correctional
Institution to the South Unit. Century is in the northwest corner of the
As with my first two articles, this one turned out to be longer than I had originally expected. Before concluding, I’ll mention one more thing about the South Unit. I’ve described the inmates who are here but nothing about the facility itself. It is definitely not like the image one would have of a prison facility – an image taken from notorious prisons in this country or those typically depicted in the movies. In fact, I’ve remarked that if one could parachute onto the grounds and, in the process, did not notice the chain link fences topped by razor wire, one could conclude that this is some kind of senior home or assisted living facility. All the buildings are one story and there are wide open spaces.
The facility is divided into three areas or compounds. Compound 1 contains the dining hall (referred to as “chow hall”), medical area, library, laundry and administrative offices. Compound 2 consists of the dormitories and the two canteens. Compound 3 is the recreation area (referred to as “rec yard”). Our movement between the compounds is restricted and I will have more to say about this when I discuss the typical daily routine.
So much for now. Keep well and I’ll talk to you again in a month.
Harold Sherry Main menu.
Main menu. January 2009
Greetings classmates, and a Happy New Year to everyone.
I spent New Year’s Eve 2007/2008 in a two man cell on the sixth floor of the
main
In my last article, I cited some statistics from the June 30, 2007 annual
report of the Department of Corrections (DOC). One of them was the prison
population on that date – 92,844. I posited that such population would
“certainly” now be over 100,000. A few weeks
ago, it was reported in the press that
I gave my address as the South Florida Reception Center (SFRC). As its
name implies, it is the entry point in this part of the state, to the
The South Unit was converted to an almost exclusive senior facility in early
summer 2004. The facility has always been here but was in some kind of
condemned status for a number of years prior to the conversion. With a
street address of
Of the seven dormitories on the grounds, six are for senior inmates (age 60
and over). The other dormitory houses younger inmates (referred to as
“jitterbugs”) who provide support services for the
Here are some statistics regarding the inmate population in the South Unit as of January 23, 2009:
Distribution by Race
Black 182 29.5%
White 411 66.7%
Other 23 3.7%
Distribution by Custody Level
Close 371 60.2%
Medium 77 12.5%
Minimum 153 24.8%
Community 15 2.4%
The total number of inmates was 616. This number has been gradually declining during the 6 ½ months I have been here. By my calculations, maximum capacity is 692. For some reason, the state has not been transferring senior inmates from other facilities.
With respect to the Distribution by Race, I believe the Hispanic inmates are included in the “White” category; “Other” may refer to Haitian and non-American citizens. These statistics are interesting. Note that the White (and Hispanic) inmates comprise two-thirds of the population in the South Unit – much greater than the proportion in most other facilities. (Because the younger inmates are predominantly Black, among the senior population, the White proportion would be on the order of 80 %.)
With respect to the Distribution by Custody Level, the only level that is not represented at the South Unit is the most severe one – Maximum Custody, reserved for inmates on death row. The least restrictive custody levels – Minimum and Community (or Community Control) – apply to inmates who are deemed to require less supervision; those inmates would be allowed to work outside the facility, such as picking up trash on area streets and highways. Custody level refers exclusively to the nature of one’s charges; I’ll have more to say about this in a subsequent article.
Beginning with next month’s article, I’ll talk about life in the South Unit – such interesting topics as shake downs, contraband, and the arcane process known as “count,” where our presence in the dormitory is accounted for five times a day.
I hear there may be a Presidents’ Day dinner next month; for those who attend, have a good time!
Harold Sherry Main menu.
Main menu. December 2008
Greetings Classmates! I recall using this greeting when I was Webmaster of the site. It seems like so long ago.
This is the first of what, hopefully, will be a monthly article I will write to keep everyone informed of the goings on in my current life. We can use the title, “SBHS to SFRC”, until a more appropriate one is suggested. I considered, but subsequently rejected, “Greetings from the Con” and “Palabrasdel Preso” (“Words by the Prisoner”) thinking that perhaps we could have the article translated into Spanish (there are a fair number of Hispanics prisoners here at SFRC).
At the outset, let me express my appreciation for the kind words that have been relayed to me. Those who signed the greeting cards at the reunion, and the pictures I have already received, allow me to feel that I was part of the festivities since, obviously, I couldn’t be there in person.
I will assume that everyone is familiar, at least in general terms, with the circumstances that resulted in my incarceration. Naturally, I am not proud of what happened yet I am not particularly ashamed by it; it is truly one of the unfortunate circumstances that can occur in one’s life. I will not make any comments about it in these articles. If anyone has questions, or would like more information, feel free to write me. Here is my address:
Harold R. Sherry
BO5773
S/U
I will strive to make the articles light-hearted by focusing on the humorous
and dysfunctional aspects of prison life. I will attempt to refrain from
comments on the effectiveness of the penal system. I’m sure all of us have our
opinions on this subject. The articles, however, will not be without their
poignant moments; it is not possible to describe prison life without mentioning
the human elements. Whenever I describe other inmates, I will respect their
privacy by not mentioning any names. Lastly, for those of you who live in
When I describe some aspect of prison life, you may be tempted to ask, “Why is this being done?” or “Why is this being done in this way?” Don’t bother to ask! Much of what happens within prison defies logic. I am frequently reminded by my fellow inmates that I act too logically (a legacy from my working career). I humorously respond that I tend to forget a sign outside the front gate: “NO LOGIC BEYOND THIS POINT.”
One final point – very important to keep in mind. the Department of Corrections (DOC), the state agency that operates the Florida Prison System, is, in the final analysis, a business – and a very big one, certainly among the three largest in the state along with tourism and the citrus industry. For the fiscal year ending June 30, 2007 (comparable figures for the 2008 fiscal year are not currently available), the DOC budget – total operating funds and fixed capital outlay of funds – was $2.2 billion. On June 30, 2007, the inmate population was 92,844 (certainly well over 100,000 now). On that date, DOC personnel was 26,765. This is significant because many decisions are made not with regard to the welfare of the inmates or the public, but solely because of the impact on the bottom line.
The preliminaries were longer than I had anticipated. So, I will conclude here and continue with the January 2009 edition.
Allow me to wish all of you a happy holiday season.
Harold Sherry Main menu.