Coming Home Straight From Solitary Damages Inmates And Their Families [NPR.org]

I am tired of using "dissociative defenses"-if that's how I've kept these 'secrets' for forty-eight years after my "Youthful Offender Adjudication", of dis-owning that part of myself that was frightened of getting "shanked" in the "Yard" at Attica-whenever I came out of my cell, or of getting raped by some "lifer[s]" who had nothing to lose, or of getting "sucker-punched" in the face by another prisoner, or getting my teeth knocked out by a guard's club-we had one guard in another "Correctional facility" who was "famous" for using his club on a prisoner's mouth to knock out a substantial number of his teeth. At least New York's policy then, of only one inmate to a cell, allowed me to "feel safe" when I closed/locked the door on my cell. Those are not places where men can talk about their fears and vulnerability. .... There were positive moments there though, and I am grateful for the people and situations when "affirmations of our decency and humanity" did occur: Mr. Purdy, who would start his morning cell count with the announcement: "Have no fear, your "state father" is here!", Mr. Rogan, the block officer [and former state trooper] I approached and civilly asserted my request for a roll of toilet paper, who explained his dilemma to me, then offered to go see the Warden to assert his need for a reasonable supply of toilet paper from the bursar, for his entire cell block each month. "Nubs", an inmate who worked the creamery near the barn where we milked the cows, who tended all the cats who chased the mice that ventured into the barn: like "Mischief" the young orange tiger cat..., and one "cross-eyed" cat whose name skips my memory, but could still catch an evasive mouse. The cats certainly filled "Mammalian Attachment" roles for us there, as did the cows and their calves....

     I got over a third of the article read, and had to stop. The psychologist interviewed noted anyone who spends over 14 days in solitary..... and I had to stop. Since I'm near retirement age, maybe I don't have to keep this a secret anymore.

     I didn't often talk about my imprisonment, because it was as an "adjudicated Youthful Offender"-meaning no criminal record. I even passed the FBI check to be a VISTA (Domestic Peace Corps) Volunteer--was interviewed for VISTA before I was released from prison. But I can't immediately recall how many times I was in Solitary Confinement, although it was rarely more than 1-3 days before I'd have a hearing with the Disciplinarian/Assistant Warden, and end up getting released. But one time it was longer: The charge was for "fighting" outside the prison wall, while on "trustee status". I had told the herdsman that one of my prize milkers [dairy cow] started kicking me-it had never done that before. I stood up and saw the pitchfork holes in its right rear shoulder/flank. The herdsman inquired with the inmate who had cleaned the stall area during the time of day when "milkers" didn't usually work in the barn. The herdsman called me to reiterate my concern. As I approached the herdsman and the other inmate, the other inmate threw a punch and hit me in the face/mouth. The guard came running over and told us both to fold our arms [cease fighting]...and march back inside the prison wall...and we both went directly to solitary. I was charged with "fighting"-even though I never even gestured a physical response to his punching me. I only recall spending five days in solitary for that, but I thought I was going to "lose it"-while I was there. The other inmate spent at least three weeks in solitary for that incident, then didn't want to return to that work assignment, outside the wall.

     I even knew how to "cheat" at solitary (lie on the floor and look up three stories-where the translucent windows stop and the transparent ones begin, and watch the clouds; tear the buttons off the crotch of your pants, and play tiddly-winks on the cell wall with the buttons; calculate the distance of the perimeter of the cell and walk around enough times to walk a mile; do push-ups....; read the bible if the chaplain visited you while you were in there--if he brought enough of them with him.....    One time while I was in solitary, I got a handmade pastel Christmas card from a woman in the Federal prison in Alderson, W. Va. who had poured ketchup over my home town Draft Board records, I'd never met her in person, but we had mutual friends. I don't know how she got my address, but...That Christmas card "kept me sane" that time in solitary...

     Years later, I worked as an Armed Airport Public Safety officer (Aviation Law Enforcement/Crash-Fire-Rescue), since I [supposedly] had no "criminal record"-- but over 200 "youthful offender" records in my county clerk's office weren't properly sealed...I had wondered why a news reporter asked me about my "record" during my Legislative candidacy two years after my parole ended.  It wasn't until Ten years after that I was working at the Airport, and an NCIC report came back on me: "Sentenced under Youth Corrections Act [no criminal record]; Paroled to ___, New York for 1 year 3 months." I called a lawyer I knew back there, who wrote  the State Police in the state where I worked the airport position, that he would personally vouch that my "Youthful Offender Adjudication" was not a "Criminal Conviction" in that state, and that the federal NCIC record ....probably shouldn't have said "Paroled..."  He subsequently discovered that not only mine, but 200 other Youthful Offender records in that county clerk's office hadn't been properly sealed. He brought all 200 of those, and mine before a judge who ordered that all fingerprints, photographs, etc, be recalled...and all 200 including mine be properly sealed . The judge subsequently provided my lawyer with a letter to the State Police who issue armed security licenses where I was working for the airport, noting it was a "Youthful Offender adjudication", and that "paroled" probably shouldn't have been used to describe the circumstances. That was thirty years ago, 12 years after all my "Adjudication as a Youthful Offender" had ended. Ten years after my "legislative candidacy".

                     -in spite of seeing the inside of Attica, 10 months before the uprising in 1971, following a [technical rather than substantive] Parole violation (Since my parole officer didn't think 'ex-cons' should be doing 'social work'-I was working at one of Dorothy Day's Catholic Worker soup kitchen/shelters, he told me to get a different job, and a woman who worked there offered me the use of her car to go to the interview, while my parole officer had physical custody of my still valid driver's license, and he saw me drive her car; and New York had a policy of sending "parole violators" to the nearest institution which was Attica for males in my county. 

          Before I had been sent to Attica, while I was waiting in the county penitentiary, all the Adult male prisoners had submitted a petition to the Sheriff, via the chaplain, requesting a specific mentally ill inmate be transferred to the local state hospital. Two guards in particular seemed to delight in tormenting this man, who was later removed from adult population cells and transferred to a "solitary" dungeon in the basement--just before Christmas...and those two guards would turn all the basement lights off on him, when they came up the stairwell from the basement....they had previously sprayed him with a fire extinguisher-in his cell in adult population. They made him "pee" through the bars into his "bucket" (the old penitentiary didn't have "indoor plumbing"-we had to empty our urinal/fecal buckets en route to the dining hall in the morning for breakfast...

          Before that I had someone my age try to hang themselves in the cell next to mine, at the jail. I tried talking to him to prevent him from doing that..... I really couldn't discuss this part of my life, once the 

youthful offender adjudication got "ironed out"....