I asked to join the Vassar Green Haven Prison program as I had never been inside a prison, though I had had chances and refused because of fear of the environment. I wanted to finally find out what it was really like, versus the assumptions that I had made. Professor Larry Mamiya , who had started the program in 1979, let me come along for a few sessions of their weekly discussion groups with inmates .
Green Haven Is a maximum security prison built in the 1930’s with 2016 male inmates (now at full capacity), 83% of whom were convicted of violent felonies. The median sentence is 20 years. Sixty percent of the prisoners are lifers. It housed the state’s execution facility. Its electric chair, which was never used, was replaced in 1998 when the death penalty laws were changed to a lethal injection method and that space was altered to include two cells with outdoor recreation pens, a visiting room, a viewing room for witnesses and the execution room with its gurney. This facility has never been used. In 2004 the New York Court of appeals struck down the reinstatement of capital punishment and in 2008 Governor Paterson ordered the lethal injection equipment removed. Green Haven covers some 37 acres. The main complex is a square surrounded by a 30 feet wall with guard towers containing a dozen cell blocks, a hospital, a church, an industry building, mess halls, visitation areas, administrative areas, etc. Outside the walls they have a farm for livestock and produce. Over the years, a textile and garment manufacture was phased out and replaced by an upholstery, seating and institutional furniture shop. Annual sales of these items were in the $6 million dollar range.
The first time driving into the parking lot with 18 Vassar students I found daunting as the walls tower over you. To enter, you climb two flights of stairs to a receiving area, present your reason for the visit and then wait for the screening. It is best to leave anything metal in your car; women with metal support in their bras are strip searched. The screening is very much like that done in airports with metal detectors and wanding. When complete you are given your prison photo ID card (made after your first orientation visit) and your left hand is stamped with ultra-violet ink. Your group waits in front of a solid metal door, when it opens you enter a small room with an officer behind glass on the right and the exit gate ahead. You put your hand under a U-V light so the officer can see you have been cleared. The barred door is then opened and you cross a courtyard and enter a receiving area, present your card, sign in and are given a visitors pass to wear. The next barred door opens to a small square area with gates to multiple corridors. From here you will pass through some five more check points, walking a quarter of a mile through green painted corridors till you climb to a second floor classroom. We have been instructed to stay to the right of the yellow center line, not to talk, not to make eye contact with any prisoners, and to follow the guards’ instruction on when to move or stop. There is little sound other than the shuffle of feet, the orders of the guards and the electrical movement and clang of the barred doors. There was little to indicate the large number of people within the buildings. Sometimes groups of prisoners walking to their assignments would pass on the other side of the yellow line. They wear dark green pants and shirts and over 95 % are African-American.
When meeting the inmates we were told to not become friends, not to touch, not to give them anything or any information on where we live. We could bring one notebook, but it must not have a wire spiral binding and one pen, but it must be of the see thru variety. The correction officers are withdrawn, controlling, suspicions of our presence, and annoyed to have young, mostly feminine students confusing their normal procedures.
We are placed in two classrooms under closed circuit video watch with the standard writing arm chairs. Two inmates sit in chairs facing us; each are lifers who have served more than ten years, one said in that time he has spent 82 days in solitary. One of their advisors also sat in the class. The inmates were very bright and really controlled the more than an hour session; making sure to get participation from each student and keep the dialogue light and humorous. There was a sense of mutual respect and an overlay of a curriculum (write a poem for the next session, asking each one define their ethnic origins, each to research solitary confinement, asking that we check out websites for communication with inmates, etc.) At some points, specific parts of prison life would be covered (rules, solitary for drug offences, solitary for suicidal tendencies, friendships, language tables in the mess halls, Alternative to Violence programs, Rehabilitation through the Arts programs, the Youth Assistance program, personal cell space for books, time spent in a shop doing leather work, computer time (without internet) for writing, outside paid services for internet posts, etc). The tone was less controlling and more open in the classroom, but there were definite boundaries. Once, out of enthusiasm, I shook hands with one of he inmates. Immediately I could feel the tension, sensed that this was wrong, sensed that this threatened the delicate balance under which this program ran.
The students who were also were very intelligent were following the lead of the inmates with whom they had met with over 15 sessions, responding and asking a few questions. There was a sense that this was a valued learning experience for them, different from college work, but also a break for the inmates. No one seemed to want to alter the mood set by the inmates or to press hard for specific facts, still each session included new insights.
There had been a “Lock Down” a few days before one of our visit ands when we arrived one of the inmates was not there. His friend did not know what had happened to him. It turned out that during the Lock Down his cell had been searched and his legal files taken. When the Superintendent did a walk through he, knowing the rules, asked him directly to get the files back. The inmate was amused that the Super stuttered, obviously not knowing of the situation. He was later “called down” to the Super’s office, went, expressed his rights, and eventually the files were returned. He came late to class amused that while in the office he had messed with some new correctional officers, within his rights but beyond their knowledge of the rights, thus getting them to show confusion. He considered this incident had gone well and was pleased with how he had made the system work for him. They said there usually were some three or four “Lock Downs” a year and did not know the reason for this last one. They could tell when a “Lock Down” was happening as the water to their cells would be turned off to keep them from flushing things down the toilet. One of the inmates said he always kept a bucket of water in his cell so that he could drink and use the toilet during those situations. Knowing the rules is a major issue. The major rules are: no gambling, no homosexuality, and no drugs. Then, there were other rights that they had to make sure they got, like their clothing allowance: two pairs of underwear, one shirt, one pair of pants each year, a coat every three years, etc.
The four times I was with this group I learned much about the prison environment, but only scratched the surface. The last visit involved an assignment where the students wrote what they had gained from the sessions and the inmates gave their evaluations of their time and insights on each student. Their comments reflect the more open, less controlled quality of the classroom.
One inmate wrote:
“You all had your preconceptions about what prison life was like, mostly based on television, family, media, and the government. I am certain you never really stopped to question the validity of these preconceptions. This is a perfect example how you should not trust what you hear, read, or see. DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH ! ! This class is rewarding for its meeting of minds and dispelling of myths. “
“Am I your “lab animal”? At times, this is how I feel. Nevertheless, I understand my purpose is greater. This is my reason for being a facilitation encouraging others. Remember prison is not about rehabilitation, it is up to the individual (personal).”
“To read and evaluate the many writing from you all. I have become overwhelmed with emotion knowing I could have been someone greater. You all insure me to push on; to encourage others that ‘we can make it!’ I do not want to die in here, but if I do, at least I did it knowing it was a reality and I tried to help others. That will be my ‘dash’! So, I enjoyed my visits with my new peers.”
One of his student evaluations went like “XX student: you may have met people that have been incarcerated already and may not have even known it. It was a joy to connect with you and I did learn from you. I am amazed that we think along the same lines ‘we are all human beings living on the same planet; we are all family living in the same home’. I thank you my brother, peace.”
The other inmate hand wrote the following:
One of his student evaluations read: “XX student: French poems and ‘Hopping Thursdays’, your ecstatic attitude was a delight to see every Friday, which always put a smile on my face no matter what mood I was in.”
There were strong connections made here and kept at a high positive level yet with open discussions of personal feelings on many subjects even such as homosexuality, religion, relationships, and goals. Nothing was suggestive and all generally supportive.
To mark the end of the session a guard would appear, rap three or four times on the door frame with his night stick and call “Ten minutes, ten minutes.” This started the mood to crescendo back to one of control and the impersonal. Shortly, we stood, filed quietly out and started the return trek, walking the long corridors, returning the visitors pass, signing out, having our hands with the U-V mark scanned, and then returning to the parking lot. The prison is surrounded by farm land with open fields and the contrast to the inside is immense. Then breathing in the clear air, getting in the car and driving away meant moving to such a different world. I could feel the weight of control lifting. Looking back, the prison just seemed like a black dot in the rear view mirror, sort out of tune with its surroundings.
When I talk about this with my friends it is interesting to see how little they know and how little they are interested. There was sort of a feeling from them: “Well why would you want to go there?” The visits knocked down some of my assumptions about prison life, actually making it feel more palatable. I would have liked to ask specific question about the daily schedule, programs, optional times, privileged times, visitation, legal action pursued by inmates, the layout and usage of the various buildings, the role of religion, relationships with the correctional officers, etc., but what I did learn has made a large and lasting impression.
There are so many thoughts that go through your head in an experience like this, but it is a good idea to try to capture them so that the memory stays clear and you can pass them on.
