File #14328: "ms026_23_09.pdf"

Prison s main role
to protect society,
says FCI’s warden

Vol. 99, No. 320

,

.

Pa
alarmed, was that by John
trick O’Shea.
po
A convicted murderer tem
FCI, O’Shea
the
at
ed
hous
ly
rari
Robert A. Gun
ital
DANBURY
escaped from Danbury Hosp g
ld
bein
r
nell wishes Americans wou
afte
1981
er
emb
in Nov
Ro
ed
forget all those Edward G.
taken there when he complain
film
binson-Humphrey Bogart
pains. Private guards
t
ches
of
es
imag
at
images of prison life
were hired to watch O’Shea
ns,
ea got away
of inmates running the priso
O’Sh
and
ital
hosp
the
all
images of inmates ready at
from them.
t
times to jump over the walls and
Gunnell doesn’t like to coun
age.
host
le
peop
who
ates
hold innocent
inm
the
of
one
as
O’Shea
the
He says they’re uninformed,
escaped while he’s been at
zed.
ntici
roma
even
unrealistic,
a medium-security facility.
FCI,
the
“A prison is as safe in a com
He says O’Shea escaped from
munity as a nuclear plant,” says
ital and the private guards
hosp
Gunnell, warden of the Federal
were responsible. Gunnell only
pe
Correctional Institution for the
wants to count those who escas a
as
the prison. And he keep
past 18 months. “A prison is k
from
who
safe in a community as a truc
separate count for those
away from the minimumcarrying nuclear waste or a fac
walk
One
is
tory that handles explosives.
security prison camp that
a
FCI
canister of- bottled gas has
nearing completion on the
greater destruction potential.”
grounds.
counting
All together
While he acknowledges oppo
ed
t
O’Shea, one inmate who jump
nents of nuclear energy migh
inmates who got out
on,
two
paris
e,
com
fenc
the
a
ate
reci
app
not
by methods still unknown, and”
Gunnell thinks it gets his point
y
worr
le
peop
s
two inmates who “walked away e
think
He
across.
hap
d
coul
from the fenceless camp ther t
what
t
too much abou
have been six escapes in the pas
pen at a prison.
the
18 months. All except one of p
reca
“There’s a common charge.
been
have
ys
walk-awa
e
‘Someone will jump the fenc
tured.
and rape my wife.’ Fact is they
“Escape is part of a prison,”
(escapees) want to get away as
Gunnell. ‘There is no such
says
my
fast s possible. During
as an escape-proof prison.
thing
tenure (in the federal prison sys
have the skill and time
ates
Inm
tem) I can’t think of anywhere
mise (security).. No
pro
càm
to
any harm has been done to local
s an escape. You
want
en
ward
people.”
learn to expect them. People
who at 51 has 18
locked up away from home
Gunnell
against their will will try to es
years. of experience working for
has had
cape.”
the Bureau of Prisons
more than his share of explain
From Route 37 all that is visi
ing to do about escapes during
of the FCI is the outline of
ble
his 18 months in Danbury. The
aging, cream-colored conthe
most celebrated, the one that got
See FCI, Page A-12
politicians and residents equally

By Mary Connolly
Assistant Sunday editor
—

—

—

—

.

.

.

—

/

-

run Danbur,. If n1’ijnuje’ gets th idea
that he should run it, I get rid of him.’
Robert Gunnell, warden: at FCI
—

—

p. ‘/

A-12

JHE NEWS-TIMES, SUNDAYpNO\E46BER 21, 1982

Aerial view of Federal Correctional Institution in Danbu
ry.

FI warden says mctin role
is the protection of sociei
Continued from Page A-i
crete buildings, dominated by a
bright blue water tower. For
most of its 42 years, the prison
has been almost as invisible in
the everyday lives of Danbury
area residents
except when it
makes headlines. Food strikes.
Celebrities turned inmates. In
mates turned celebrities. The
terrible fire of July 7, 1977.
But invisible or not, the prison
is what identifies the City of
Danbury to many outside Con
necticut. People in Danbury call
the institution the “prison” or
“FCI.” People who work for the
Bureau of Prisons and people
who do time in the bureau’s insti
tutions refer to the prison as
“Danbury.”
Walking through the dormi
tories, cafeteria, workshops,
classrooms and yard of the
prison, one gets the impression
the warden wants
the FCI is a
quiet, orderly facility whose
“major role is protection of soci
ety, preparing inmates for as
suming roles in society.”
Inmates dressed in civilian
clothing chat with each other,
lounge about the machine shop,
bend over drafting tables, watch
a film on returning to the world
outside prison walls. Most of the
inmates live in dormitories or
private rooms that are locked
only at night. A few are restric
ted to cells.
The FCI currently .has 761 in-,
mates
451 are members
.ofl
minority groups. It has 188 staff
members, 78 of them guards
(called correctional officers).
There are 12 correctional officer
vacancies. Gunnell says about 20
percent of the FCI staff are
members of minority groups.
—

—

—

One would be hard pressed to
staff or
find anyone at the FCI
who would call the
inmate
prison a “country club,” a label
sarcastically appied by some
area residents and public offi
dais..
Gunnell doesn’t appreciate the
label. He says being locked up in
an aging prison where the amen
ities are few and the privacy
nonexistent is not luxury. And
living Ifl such an institution has
built-in anxieties
; problems
that those on the outside don’t
understand.
One such fear is being locked
up with fire. In the fire that
swept an FCI dormitory in 1977,
five inmates died and 70 persons
were injured.
In the General Accounting Of
fice report on, the fire, the
prison’s fire safety measures
were criticized. But in th
months that followed, the prison
made considerable fire safety
improvements. In September,
the prison was inspected by the
Commission on Accreditation for
a private group
CorrectiOtls
that sets standards.f or prisons
and scored 100 on life safety
items.
From time to time since the
fire, Danbury Fire Department
officials have been critical of
FCI personnel for not calling
them about fires at the prison,
especially a mattress fire last
January.
“We’re not going to call them
everytime an ashtray goes on
fire,” says Gunnell.
—

—

—

—

-

.

—

—

./

.

At the time of the 1977 fire,
then housing 839 in
the prison
was said to be over
mates
crowded. The prison was built to
accommodate sit but has been
expanded. Gunnell says there is
no set limit to the number of
men that can be housed at the
prison. He says it would only be
overcrowded if he could no
longer house, cloth and feed the
prisoners.
“I don’t consider that I’m
overcrowded,” he says. “I
wouldn’t say we’re crowded.”
Over the years, FCI inmates
have staged various food and
work strikes. But Gunnell says
these were due less to tension
caused by 0vercrowding and
—

—

system is
The federal prison
of secu
levels
six
into
organized
minilnumse
a
I
Level
rity, with
and Level 6
curitY prison camp
maXim
um5oc
t7 pen
most
the
iS a Level II
Danbury
itentiary.
institUti
mediuTThsecmfltlT
Level 6 peril
one
only
is
There
n Marion, Ill.
tentiai7
is on keeping
emphasis
the
where
not helping
bars
behind
inmates
behavior.
their
change
them
on
Gunflell puts the emphasis
not sim
helping inmates reform, rough
them
ply habilitat1flg
some magic formula. rehabilita
“I don’t believe in rehabili
can’t
tion,” he says. “I
another
tate
Rehabilitation is an in
man
a long
ternal thifl. Somewhere
has got to de
the line the persOn
this, this, and
cide he’s got to do
that.”

code” that
more to the “prison a group of
of
minority
allows “a
a larger
people to influence
some inmates
says
He
group.”
“looking for some
are always
about.”
complain
thing to
centers
the usual complaintthe only
sometimes
food,
on
day. The
variable in an inmate’s
boycott was
food
recent
most
“50mething”
due to a report thatbatch of food.
one
in
spotted
was
in order to
Gunnell says that disruptions
a
control potential
out when
batch of food is thrown made that
ever an accusation isit.
in
a foreign object 5

—

—

.

by the
A common assumptionare rife
public is that prisons
violence. Gunwith homosexual belief Ofl the
nell blames this the media.”
“sensat10l’5 of
of no violence
He says he knowsactivity
at the
related to gay
PCI.
homo
“Sure, we’ve got some “But
says.
he
here,”
sexuals
to us.”
they’re not a problemdislike
of
even
Distrust
common theme
a
is
press
the
news re
with Gunnell. He thinks
are only in
porters and editors controversial
terested in the
the es
aspects of prison life strikes
capes, the violence, the view of
distorted
and thus give a
prisons to the public.
of this is
He says one examplehave in in
the Interest repOttei and former
evIeWmg prisoners
prisoners on penal reform.
believe the
“The press will
felon,” he
words of a convicted
someone who
says, rather than hands-on expe
and
has academic
ociol0gY,
rience In jminol0gy
psychol0Y.
and
very few
“I really believe thatthemselves
remove
can
inmates
sufficiently to be objective.”
—

—

—

—

‘

one of
Gunflell, of. course, is
academic and
those people with
He has a
hands-on credeflttais
from Michi
Ph.D. in Education He started
gan State university.
federal prison
as a teacher in the Danbury Is
system. The FCI in which Gun
the fourth prison in others are
The
nell has worked.
ewisbUrg,
the federal prisons in
Texas, and Pe
Pa., Texarkana,
tersbUrY, Va.

.

.

.

likes to
Gunilell is a man who at least
accentuate the postive he says
in public. For example,
to talk much
he doesn’t wanthostage
negotiat
about the FCI’s
might
talk
such
that
ing team,
courage inmates to take a per
prefers to talk
son hostage. He educational and
FCI’s
the
about
programs.
trade apprenticeshiP
he’s
pretend
But he doesn’t
displaced
running a home for
Boy Scouts.
escapes and
In addition to the
during his first
boycotts
food
the
has had to
18 months, Gunnell
embarrassment of
deal with the
arrested for drug
two employees
dealing at the prison.
it hap
“It’s unfortunate thatdon’t re
pened,” he says. “But I
gret that it happened.”
to smug
Drug use and effortswalls
are
gle drugs inside the any prisOfl
constant problems at
differ
with the FCI no
he says
other in
ent in this respect than
press
says
he
But
stitutions.
drug use
wide.spread
of
reports
drug barons
in prisOnS of inmate
on the
employees
prison,
with
exaggerat and
are
payroll
the FCI
at least Ifl the case of
untrue.
Gunnell.
“I run anbury,” says
Idea that
“If an inmate gets theget rid of
he should run it, I
him.”
—

—

—

—

ii.e wrnne
Copyright

1983 The News-Timet

section
Sunday, August 21, 1983

business

N.ws.Tlm.s/Jo..ph Cannota Jr.
Dctavio Prada, a prisoner, does high reliability soldering in
the clean room at the Federal Correctional
nstitution at Danbury.

FCI to launch high-tech research lab

DANBURY
David Silber
eld is waiting for the day his
-esearch lab is complete and he
an begin government-sponsored
)rojects with microchips and
iber optics. He considers himelf, and his co-workers “ice
treakers,” in unchartered tech
ological waters.
The federal government con
iders him ‘ criminal and his job
ehabilitation.
Officials are hoping that the
fork of a small group of men at
e Federal Correctional Institu
on
who have nothing but
.me• to develop ideas
will
ring significant changes to the
Lectrnics industry.
The ;lab is part of U.S. Indus
ies in Corrections Inc., the na
onwide
federal
prison
idustries program. In this 50tot by 50-foot square room, with
-ight lights and fresh-painted
ails, prisoners like Silbergeld
ill come a long way from mak
g licdnse plates.
Industries Superintendent Bob
o says he eventually expects
to 20 men from the prison
‘pulation to work in the lab.
Lbergeld and David Kupets, an
ier prisoner chosen for re
arch work, put the number
ver, perhaps between eight
d 10.
—

-

—

—

“It’s going to be difficult to
d” men with the right back
und, Kupets says. But he and
bergeld are prime examples
t prison, higher education and
-porate experience are not
itually exclusive.

, /—
N.w,-flm.,/Ja..ph CannaioJ,
Robert W. Cross, superintendant of Industries
at FCI, is enthusiastic about a prison
plan
that would brIng high tech industry into the
prison.

Kupets has a bachelor’s degree
in math. He attended West Point.
His lab job, he hopes, will
broaden his technical back-

ground enough to land him a
high-tech job on the “outside.”
Silbergeld holds a Masters in
business administration and at-

tended law school. He was a
Green Beret. He lists IBM and
TRW• Inc. as former employers,
See HIGH-TECH, D-2

Wall Street’s week column

iiasslfied

advertising

D-6 to D-19

J

Prison made
gloves, cable.
turn profits
By Ariane Sains
News-Times business writer
Care and pre
DANBURY
cision mark Levi Holmes’ work.
In the past 2½ months he has
been at the Federal Correctional
Institution, he has learned to op
erate a compression moldin
machine, a trade he hopes will
help him when he is released.
the term
On the outside
prisoners use to describe the
worM beyond the medium-secu
Holmes did auto
rity prison
body work Compression mold
ing, part of the cable mañufac
turing process at FCI, can be
used in other trades as well.
“It’s something new as far as
job wise when you get out,”
Holmes says. “I know there are a
• whole lot of rubber plants around
here. It’s possible they may be
hiring when I get out.”
Cable manufacturing is one of
U.S.
five divisions of UNICOR
Industries in Corrections Inc.,a
federal prison program desigied
to teach inmates skills, and sup
ply the federal government with
a variety of products. At FCI,
minimum-security prisoners also
manufacture leather industrial
gloves.
The operation, says Superin
tendent of Industries Bob Cross,
is self-sustaining. In.:. 1934, Con
gress appropriated $3 million for
the program nationwide. Ross
says UNICOR hasn’t asked for
more federal money since.
In 1982, FCI’s cable division
made a $848,654 profit on sales
of $3,351,544. The smaller glove
operation reaped $179,946 in
profit on $768,081 in sales.
The money from all the indus
tries, says Cross, is funneled
back into the operations,.used to
finance
and
wages
pay
Christmas gdts for. every federal
prisoner.
For some prisohers, a 7½-hour.
• day or part-time work provides
distraction from the monotony. of
prison life. For others, like.
Holmes, learning a trade moti
vates them to join the program.
Larry Cody, a welding trainee
has another motivation: “It come
down to money.’
Prisoners are paid on a gra
duated scale, according to abil
ity, Cross says. Salaries range
from 34 cents an hour to $1.05.
Cody, who drove a truck in
New Jersey, says he’ll go back to
driving when he gets out. Mean
while, he works in the “clean
room,” an area with humidity
and temperature controls set to
government specifications for
high reliability welding.
Wires are welded together to
form contacts that fit into
cables, some with as many as 20
contact points. Most of the cable
manufactured at FCI are mo
derately comolex. bi’
—

-

—

—

—

.

take an inmate a week to assem
ble. A multi-connector for mis
siles, with its 250 wires, can take
120 hours to make.
A government inspector oper
ates out of an office in the qual
ity control section of the cable
shop, double checking the
prison’s manufacturing condi
tions and products. The supervi
sion is taken with good grace; the
by law
federal government is
UNICOR’s only customer.
The number of full- and parttime workers in the cable and
glove operations is posted on
Cross’ office wall daily. Thurs
day, 310 men, roughly a third of
tlfr prisoners, were working in
the cable and glove shops, se
parated. by a wall, in the same
.building.
Currently, 61 inmates from the
security
minimum
prison’s
“camp” work in the glove fac
tory, 24 full time, and 37 parttime.
Because of transportation and
camp insecurity problems
mates are not allowed contact
with the other prisoners so a sep
arate glove factory is being built
on the hill behind the main
prison buildilig where the camp
is.
Cross says it will be at least
four times the size of the current
facility. Between 100 and 125nmates will work in the new
plant.
The increased capacity will
mean prisoners can manufacture
more than just the one style of
glove they now make. Gloves are
sewn inside out, turned then. fitted on. hot molds, pressed and
packaged.
Cross has been in the prison
system for 20 years. It is his
third time at Danbury. A large,
—

—

—

V

:.

See PRISON-MADE, D2

-.

.

Gloves made inside the
walls of FCI, Danbury, by•
prisoners netted a profit
of $179,946 for the peni

+Ii.iii

)17

-/--

High-tech
Continued from Page D-1
then asks the question forming
on a listener’s lips: “So, what am
I doing here?
“I retired in June,” he says
with one of his frequent smiles,
“and ended up getting in trouble
and ended up here.”
The federal government ex
pects to spend about $20 billion
for electronics research in fiscal
1983. The government, Silber
geld says, doesn’t have the man-

power to devote to long-term
researUh projects. He and Kupets
see the FCI lab as a good alter
native.
Well groomed and articulate,
Silbergeld and Kupets are philo
sophical about their incarcera
tion and optimistic about life
when they leave FCL
“Because you have to be here,
doesn’t mean you have to be dor
mant or stagnate,” Kupet notes.
For a prospective employer, a
criminal record “is always a

Prison-maae

Continued from Page D-1
jovial man, Cross has a wide
background in manufacturing
and sales, including stints with
Firestone Tire and Rubber Co.,
B.F. Goodrich Co., Montgomery
Ward and Co. Inc. and the Pru
dential Insurance Company of
America.
Of the prison manufacturing
he says: “We try to operate
as
close to the concepts of outside
industries as we can.”
Motivational signs adorn the
shop walls. Over the entrance
to
the cable operation hangs a sign:
“Danbury Cable Factory. Good
enough is not good enough.”
In the industrial rooms, cooled
by large standing fans, prisoners
have done some discrete
moti
vating of their own. Pictures
of
women from a variety of
skin
magazines adorn the workplace.

consideration, especially when
you’re going into an upper eche
lon position. It’s still not looked
on well, but I think the accep
tance level has increased.”
Says Silbergeld: “If you’re
good, you’ll always be good. I
think the guys that have the abil
ity are the most optimistic.”
And, adds Kupet, if “nobody
will hire you, you’ll start a busi
ness of your own;”
ARIANE SAINS
—

-

Still, the atmosphere is busi
nesslike. Foremen supervise the
prisoners, work is evaluated and
it progresses in an orderly way,
supervisors say. The government
and Cross have standards, and

)-r

expect them to be met.
“It gets you stable,” says
Holmes, working at his compres
sor. “Just sitting around
with
nothing to do, there’s not much
chance of getting a job.”

S2-f-13

nbury, Conr,. 06810, Sunday, December 13, 1987

Sunday

A

C

i

•

•

.
.

..

.

.

•

•;

1,

••‘

4

I

son

N.ws-TIm.s/W.ndy Cari

, Tammy Binfor Women at Niantic
n
tio
ltu
lns
al.
on
cti
Corre
s.
A prisoner at the state tle of her children, who re in foster home
lit
s
see
ury
nb
Da
nette of

s
r
e
h
t
o
m
D
N
A
s
e
t
a
Inm
By Trink Guarino
News-Times staff

.
• custody of her 3-year-old son
e was released, the in
Four years later, when Ann had developed severe
fant born to her In prisonresult of having lived in
the
emotional difficulties, the first four years of his life.
for
es
hom
ter
seven fos
regain custody of her cliii
Anne, too, Is still trying to
dren.

for her chil
Erica stole underwear
DANBURY
dren.
sentenced to 90 days at
When she was arrested and in Niantic, she lost her
n
.
the state prison for wome
eler Street in Danbury,
children to foster care.
r,
te,
late
Taminy Binnet 20, of Kesentenced for possession
three months
ed
eas
rel
s
wa
she
e
tim
,
By the
is still at the Niantic prisonare in foster care in Wes
rtment. The state Depart
she had also lost her apa th Services will not return
of narcotics. Her childrensocial worker drives them
ment of Children and You place to live and a way to
ton. Once a month, a
visit her for one hour at the
her children until she has a
thiee hours each way to
m.
the
t
por
sup
prison.
l trying to regain the cus
telephone them once a
A year later, Erica is stil
Biñnette Is permitted to Polaroid photographs of
two
tody of her children.
week. In the meantime, .
who go to-jail and lose
n
me
wo
of
has
l
ica
she
typ
all
is
are
She
a
her chi4iren
er, calls her “Mommy
cess. “We have to figure out
their children in the pro their crimes, without pun
Her 4-year-old son, Christophhe’s confused between
for
n
se
s
way to punish wome
Tammy,” she says, “becau
of children as well,” say
ishing literally hundreds y for the Connecticut Civil
ter mother and me.”
fos
his
slightly afraid of her
Shelley Geballe, an attorne
Her daughter, Dana, 2, Is
is.
she
Liberties Union.
mother, not sure who
. The child was promptly
See MOTHERS, Page A-B
Anne gave birth In prison YS had already taken
e
DC
placed in foster care. Th
—

MothersContinued from Page A-i
Binnette hasn’t drummed up the
courage to tell them she’s in prison.
“They think this is a school or a
vacation for me,” she says. “They
don’t really understand why I can’t
be’with them.”

Children of imprisoned parents
often live in “marginal circum
stances, with little money,” Austin
says. “Sometimes an elderly grand
parent takes them on. Sometimes a
resentful friend takes them in tem
porarily. More often, they end up in
foster care. They may be ridiculed
or hunned. At the very least, they
are bewildered.”

She worries that her daughter will
not know her by the time she is re
leased. She is grateful for the care
her children get from their foster
parents, but she is afraid the foster
parents will try to adopt her chil
dren, that the state will try to termi
nate her parental rights.

Typically, these children become
confused and depressed. They do
poorly in school, may lose their ap
petite, withdraw into a shell or act
out their fears with attention-getting
behavior.

She is studying to be a nurse’s aide
and dreaming of the day when she
gets out of prison, finds a job and
apartment and gets back her chil
dren.
“I love my kids to death,” Binnette
says. “They are the most important
thing in my life. They are my only
hope.”
“When a mother is imprisoned, the
parent-child bond Is not only frac
tured, but often it is forever broken.
It is not only the mother who is pun
ished, it is also her children,” Ge
balle says. “We have to do whatever
it takes to keep these families in
tact.”
The CCLU has filed a class-action
lawsuit on behalf of women prison
ers to force the state to provide
ways for children to visit their moth
ers in prison. The organization is one
of several fighting to improve ser
vices to families broken by the in
ceration of a parent.
“The system has failed these fami
lies,” says Leila Austin, co-director
of Social Justice for Women, an ad
vocacy group in Boston. “If a mother
and infant do not maintain contact,
not just legally but emotionally, it is
very difficult to reunite them.”
These groups want longer visits,
host homes established nearby the
remote prison location to make fre
quent visits convenient, a nursery in
side the prison, “whatever it takes to
keep these children with their par
ent,” Geballe says. “It is not in any
one’s interest to separate a mother
and infant.”
The state Department of Correc
tions is trying, says Marie Cerino, a
warden at Niantic. Of the 437
women at Niantic, the state’s only
prison for women, more than 70 per
cent have children.
As a result of the CCLU lawsuit,
the prison now has a room with toys
where mothers and children can visit
for up to two hours during the week,
up to one hour on weekends. Fami
lies in Crisis, a private non-profit
agency in Hartford, also runs Ses
ame Street, a child-care program at
Niantic where inmates are caregivers.
In addition, the Department of

away inffs is the ultimate
trauma,” Austin says. “It is terrify
ing to a child who does not under
stand what is going on.”

Dana Knapp, 2, and her
brother live in a foster
home three hours away
from the Niantic prison.
Corrections has begun a pilot pro
gram at Niantic in which an artist
from the community comes in to
work with children and their moth
ers dancing, painting, making pup
pets.
“It’s a way to provide structure to
the visits and teach some parenting
skills at the same time,” Cerino
says.
Parents Anonymous meetings are
conducted inside the. prison for
women who have abused their chil
dren. Classes are taught to help
mothers become better parents. The
state is in the process of hiring a
full-time parent-child coordinator,
whose job will be to act as a liaison
between inmates and the DCYS.
“The programs are a step in the
right direction,” Cerino says. “I feel
for these children because they
didn’t do anything to cause the sepa
ration. And I feel or their mothers
who suffer quite acutely because of
the separation. My job as warden of
this institution is to be an advocate
for these women. I have to be one
of the loudest voices.”
The entrance to Niantic is grim.
A door clanks shut and locks as
children and their guardians register
to see their mothers. The only wallhanging in the waiting room is a list
of rules, among them a warning that
violation of the rules may result in
loss of visiting rights.
It is one more frightening aspect
to a childhood turned upside down by
a mother’s arrest.
“Watching your mother hauled

“These children need help. Chil
dren blame themselves when a par
ent is arrested,” Austin says. “We
need to provide them some kind of
coordinated ttierapeutic support.”

afraid of being rejected by her child.
Parents want to preserve the image
of being a child’s protector,” she
says.
The Department of Corrections
makes a form letter available to
parents, “just to help them find the
right words,” Cerino says.
“At times you may feel angry at
me and think that if I really loved
you I wouldn’t have left you. I would
have stayed at home,” the letter
reads. “So I want you to understand
Some kids
that I had to go away.
think that if they had been better
children, their mothers would have
stayed at home. But this isn’t true.
You had nothing to do with the rea
son I had to come here, and there
was nothing you could have done to
have changedwhat happened to me.
I am here because of my own prob
lems.”
.

.

.

Binnette has not sent her children
a copy of the letter.
“I don’t want my kids to know I

In the beginning, they need help to
recover from the sudden, unexpected
shock of separation. As adults
around them react to the crisis, they
may be treated as a nuisance. They
may be separated from brothers and
sisters as living arrangements are
made.
“Sometimes when a woman is ar
rested, she is reluctant to tell police
there is a child at home alone. A
child may be left to his own devices
until a relative or friend steps in,”
says Susan Silver, director of Fami
lies in Crisis.
Children under 7 are not allowed
in court, “so they don’t understand
where mommy has gone when
mommy goes to jail,” Silver say.
Once a mother is incarcerated, the
child must adjust to new surround
ings. At this point, visits to thç
mother are imperative, she says.
“Children start to mourn if they
can’t see mommy,” she says. “And
infrequent visits are very painful for
both mother and children.”
Families in Crisis has started a
van transportation program to bring
children to visit their mothers in
jail at least once a week. Vans leave
from Waterbury, Hartford and
Bridgeport.
The DCYS also is working to orga
nize van transportation, says Carole
Porto, the departments acting
director for children’s protective
services. It could begin as early as
next month.
How well a child adjusts may also
depend on what the child is told has
happened to his or her mother, Silver
says. Children are most often told
that mommy is in the hospital or in
school.
“It’s done partly to protect the
child, but also because a parent is

Christopher Knap) 4, calls
his
mother
“Mommy
Tammy” to distinguish her
from his foster mother.
am here,” she says simply, with a
shrug of her shoulders. “I just don’t
want them to know.”
.

Binnette is still dreaming of the
day when she is released from prison
and has her children returned by the
state.
She has yet to face the harsh reali
ties of life after jail that Anne and
Erica encountered.
“When a woman gets out of jail,
she gets $50 in gate money and the
clothes on her back. She has no

-

apartment, no job and little hope of
getting back her children,” Geballe
says.
The DCYS will return children to a
released prisoner “only if she has a
place to stay with them,” Porto says.
“And often that is a major obstacle.
If she had an apartment before, she
probably lost it. If she had a husband
or boyfriend, she may have lost him,
too. She has very few resources and
may have difficulty finding a job or
the money to rent an apartment.”
So the children remain in foster
care.
If mother and children are se
parated long enough, the state may
try to free the children for adoption,
Porto says.
“Our goal is to return children to
their parents as quickly as possible,
but if a child was placed in custody
as a newborn, and the parent is in
jail for a year, the foster parent is
the only real parent that child
knows. We may determine that it is
in the child’s best interest to be
adopted by the foster parent.”
The DCYS carefully studies the
case of each child in Its care. Babies
who have lived most of their lives
with foster parents can still be re
turned to a parent if there are broth
ers or sisters who will be making the
change at the same time, easing the
transition.
For older children, the return de
pends on how strong the attachment
was to the mother, and how long
they were separated.
“We try to do what’s best for the
child,” Porto says.
But infrequent visits may strain a
child’s attachment to his mother.
“For too long this problem has
been ignored by the prison system.
ignored by the community. Pro
grams have been developed for men,
because the majority of prisoners
are men,” says Neil Houston, direc
tor of the Gardiner Howland Shaw
Foundation, an advocacy group in
Boston.
Women and their children have
been largely ignored because they
represent a small minority of the
prison population.
“They need people to represent
them in custody battles with the
state,” Houston says.
“Somehow we have to keep
women and their children together,”
Austin says.
Families in Crisis, the CCLU and
other groups are lobbying for alter
native sentencing, possibly halfway
houses where mothers can serve
their terms without being separated
from their children. Other possibili
ties are nurseries within prison
walls.
At the very least, children need
better support while their mother is
in prison, Austin says.
“When a mother is sent to jail,
part of her sentence has to include a
clearly defined plan for her chil
dren,” she says. “Otherwise, the sys
tem has failed.”

___
Thursday, February 16, 1984, Page
J5..•

Prison draws

‘invisible line

By Gina Brisgon
News-Times staff

Inside, the free’ hours tick away
classrooms, exercise and game rooms in
, a
cafeteria, or in 8-feet-long by 8-feetDANBURY
wide
Boundary signs posted
bunkro
oms.
In
betwee
n
the free time, the
100 yards in every direction from
a white,
men work as orderlies, kitchen
pre-fabricated building are the only
help,
tutors In the camp building or as factory
minders that the 175 men Inside are re
not
workers in the main prison.
free.
“Compared to society, it’s worse.
The men, inmates of the minimum
But
se
it’s the best thing you can have in a
curity prison “camp” on the ground
prison
s of
system
,”
says
a young man serving a
the Federal Correctional Institution,
are
four-year sentence for transporting
free to roam within the invisible border
stolen
s
goods
across
state
lines. He asked that his
and jog along a makeshift track
just
name
not
be
used.
“Nobo
dy
within those limits. They can also
said that this
gaze
was going to be a resort,” he said.
down at the squat, brick main prison
Gerardo Brandon, 30, of Jersey City,
below.
N.J., says that since he committed
But mostly, these inmates
a
who look
crime
drug dealing
and has to pay
like aging college students dressed
in
for
it
with
18
month
s In prison, he may as
khaki pants, T-shirts and running shoes
well serve the time here. “I-don’t
work off their time inside the pleasan
say it’s
t,
bad
in
here.
I’m
free
to walk and sit and
skylighted camp building.
watch
TV
and
do
other
things.
”
A confined life It is, for within the
One of 17 federal minimum-security
narrow building is the stuff of their long,
exis
prisons in the country, this is one
tence.
of the
newest, says Jeff Garbow; ‘the
camp ad
ministrator.
Originally greeted with skepticism
federal prison officials, the camps by
now seen as the cheapest of prison are
s
cause they need fewer guards and berequire fortress-like buildings with don’t
heav
ily secured cellblocks, Garbow says.
They also are considered the smooth
est
running of prisons, he says, because
they
house the least violent of criminals
in
least restrictive way. Visiting hours the
are
liberal
from 8:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. five
days a week
and prisoners are eligible
for weekend furloughs home when
have less than two years left to serve. they
Prison officials now estimate that
60
percent of people convicted of
federal
crimes are eligible to serve their
time in
the minimum-security camps.
“Compared to how I’m used to
doing
time, this is a more peaceful and
cive atmosphere,” says William condu
Bryan,
49, of Washington, D.C. “I’m probab
ly
used to a little rougher camps.”
Bryan, a slim, fit man with just
a touch
of gray in his short-cropped hair,
laughs
—

—

—

—

—

—

—

leff Garbow, above, Is
ad
ninistrator of the mini
numsecurIty prison camp
t the Federal ,Correcttonai
nstitution In Danbury. In
‘ate Donald Ellison, above
Ight, a former New Hamp
iIre banker serving a twoear term for embezzle
ent,
says
the
white-collar” tag on mini
um-security prisoners is a
-nisconceptlon.”
The
ison
building,
right,
eited in 1982.
-

hotography by
)Seph Cannata Jr.

and says “quite a few times,” when
asked
how often he’s been to prison. He
is now
serving a- term of one-to-three years
for
illegal distribution of drugs.
“In my opinion, it’s sort of a halfwa
y
house. Only you can’t go home,”
Bryan
adds.
Just four men have tried to walk
away
from the camp since It opened in
1982.
All but one man, who walked off
last month, have been recaptured, just
Garbow. Escapees from the camp says
are
usually punished with heavier
sentences
and assignments to more secure prison
s,
he adds.
But Garhow says good behavior
by the
majority of men has less to do
with bars
and barriers, and more to do with
life be
yond the prison.
“We have signs posted out there.
believe it or not, there are invisib But
le
riers,” says Garbow from his office bar
just
above the camp cafeteria. “They
certainly
know If they do something foolish
, they
will undoubtedly get more time.
I
an honor camp, but maybe that’s call it
just our
terminology.”

fenders with no history of
violence or
skipping bail.
Some are “white-collar criminals,”
such
as politicians convicted for Waterg
ate
crimes whose residence in minim
um-secu
rity prisons drew attention and
earned the
prisons the “resort” label.
But one so-called “white-collar
nal,” Donald EflIson, 41, a slight, crimi
haired, bespectacled banker fromsan4yHampshire, who has already served New
of his two-year sentence for embezhalf
zle
ment, dismisses the white-collar
stereo
type of minimum-security prisons.
“There’s a misconception about
a unit
like this being white collar.
Probab
more are in here for drug-re ly
lated
crimes,” Ellison says. “You come
with a little fear whether it’s a up here
camp or
not
It’s still a jail and so it
while. As long as you do your takes a
work and
mind your business and maintain
as
contact as you can with the outside much
, then
you go along pretty well here.”
Until their release date, prisoners
spend their time thinking about often
getting
out.

Behavior is also a result of careful
screening, he says. Most of the time,
pris
oners here have short sentences for
non
violent crimes, and are usually first
of-

It’s that time after release from
that concerns Steven Hershenow, prison
muscular doctor from Boston who 43, a
ing eight months for mail fraud.is serv
He is
See PRISON, Page 18

—

Dennis Luther, new warden
yard.

New prison warden
settles into Danbury

By Mary Connolly
Assistant Sunday editor
DANBURY
Late spring rain has made the
lawn in the yard of the Federal Correctional Insti
tution very green. The marigolds are blooming.
The hedges are growing faster than they can be
kept in trim.
Dennis Luther stands in the midst of this green
ery and tries to look serious. He doesn’t really want
to have his photograph taken. And a few of the
inmates who are trimming the lawn are kidding
him about the attention he is getting.
Luther arrived’ in Danbury just a month ago as
the new warden of the FCI. He replaces Robert
Gunnell, who after three years in Danbury has been
transferred to the Bureau of Prisons central office
in Washington, D.C.
The musical chairs is a bureau policy. This is the
10th assignment Luther has had since he joined the
bureau 13 years ago. For most of that time he has
—

moved every year. The U.S. Penitentiary in Lewisburg, Pa. The Federal Prison Camp at Eglin Air
Force Base, Fla. The central office in Washington,
D.C. The regional office in Kansas City, Mo. The
Federal Correctional Institution in Milan, Mich.
The bureau training center in Atlanta, Ga. The Chi
cago Metropolitan Correctional Center. And now
Danbury, as the FCI is called by inmates and staff.
“The average length of a warden’s stay is two to
three years,” says Luther. “The thinking is you go
into a new job with new enthusiasm. This is a very
stress-provoking job. There’s only so much one in
dividual can see at one institution, can see that
needs to be done.”
At 38, Luther is low-key and businesslike. He is
not one to tel1’lively tales about prison life, stories
of rubbing elbows with famous
or infamous
criminals. Rather, he sees himself as a manager,
someone who has the job of making the FCI run
See WARDEN, Page A-8
—

—

THE NEWS-TIMES, SUNDAY, JULY 8, 1984

Warden

Continued from Page A-i
ity that the staff can be proud to spend most of their time protecting
efficiently
from the perspective work at.”
the community from the inmates
of inmates and staff.
In March, the FCI went through a and protecting the inmates from
Luther says he went into correc complete audit by the Bureau
of each other.
tions because he was “altruistically Prisons. All aspects of the
“I’d rather work in a setting where
FCI, the
motivated, believe it or not.” He physical plant and educational
pro I could be more creative, innovative,
says he “thought it was kind of a for grams, were reviewed.
Luther won’t where inmates are less interested in
gotten segment of society.” He re say what changes were
recom killing each other.”
sists imitating or comparing himself mended. He says audit reports
In recent years, the FCI and the
are
to the tough-talking prison wardens always filled with lots
of sugges prison camp have had their share of
Hollywood likes to portray. “I feel I tions.
controversy.
have a very soft and humane and
“I don’t know that there was any
In 1977 there was the fire that
emotional side.. tough to the ex thing real major.”
killed five inmates and injured 70
tent that I’m very disciplined. I
Luther’s introduction to correc people. There have been food boy
have very high expectations for both tions was as a student intern
at the cotts. In 1981 there as the escape
me and my staff.. If I need to tell U.S. Penitentiary in Marion,
Ill, the of convicted murderer John Patrick
them I’m in charge I’ve got a prob-. highest-security prison in
the federal O’Shea, while he was at Danbury
lem.”
system. A native of Pennsylvania, he Hospital. And there were other es
Before being assigned to the FCI, has a bachelor’s degree in
correc capes
some over a fence, others
Luther had never been to Danbury. tions from Pennsylvania
State Uni just walk-aways from the prison
But he is beginning to settle in. His versity and a master’s
degree in camp..
office in the prison is bare, except correctional administration
Luther seems to think these prob
from
for a model of the Chicago Metropol Southern Illinois University.
lems are under control. He says the
itan Correctional Center where he
He first went to work for the bu FCI now has one of the better, if not
srved as warden for the past 4½
the best, food service operations in
years. And he has moved into the lit reau as a case manager at the fed
the federal prison system. This year
tie white house on the prison prop eral prison in Lewisburg. Since then,
there have been 2 escapes,’ both from
erty on Route 37, the residence tra because of the bureau’s policy of fre
the camp. As at othet prisons, over
ditionally used by the FCI warden quently rotating management em
crowding remains a problem. The
since the prison opened 44 years ago. ployees, he has worked at every
FCI has 818 inmates, 68 more than it
security
level
in
the
prison
system.
The house was not used by the for
was designed for. The camp has 190
mer warden.
He says this experience will be an inmates, 15 more than it was de
“The few conversations I’ve had asset now that he is running the FCI
signed for.
with any one in the community have
and the minimum-security Fed
Luther says a correctional institu
been about my living in the warden’s eral Prison Camp next door. A ca
tion is a “microcosm of the country,”
house. They seem very pleased to reer employee of the Bureau of
and so will reflect the tensions in so
hear that I’m living there. I haven’t Prisons, Luther earns $60,000 a year.
ciety. He says the FCI has no more
understood that. But I love the He says being warden at the FCI is
and
problems with vio
house. It’s like being out in the coun a step up the ladder. Danbury is lence no less
than any other medium-secu
try, except for the highway.”
larger than the Chicago Metropoli rity facility.
Luther has also begun to impose tan Correctional Institution. And the
As a 13-year veteran of the Bu
his way of doing things on the prison programs it offers inmates are
more reau of Prisons, Luther has worked
here. Every warden has a system. varied.
in facilities that critics of America’s
Part of Luther’s system is to walk
The Chicago facility is a jail, prison system claim are
easy-living
through some or all of the institution usually housing 450 inmates. Luther
country clubs. Danbury’s grass is
every morning.
says people are held there before green. But life behind
the aging
“You certainly want to be visible and during trial and after
conviction walls is far from that at a country
to both staff and inmates. I can get a while awaiting assignment
to an club.
feel for how the institution is work other prison. Because of
the short
Luther says he wants to have a
ing.’
stays and high turnover
some good relationship with the people
And how the institution is working, 22,000 commitments and discharges.
who live and work in the Danbury
says Luther, is not just whether a year
the educational programs area. He says peoplç are generally
there have been any escapes or vio are limited.
curious but misinformed about what
lence inside the prison walls. He says
While being the warden of the goes on in a prison. He says
his own
a well-run institution is one with a high-security and somewhat
notori friends and relatives are often aston
minimum of inmate and staff com ous federal prisons in Marion,
Ill., ished to learn he walks around inside
plaints, a facility that looks good and and Leavenworth, Kan., may
provide
has good educational programs and more career visibility, Luther says the prison. They think that’s too dan
gerous. In other communities where
work opportunities for inmates. being the warden of the FCI in
Dan he’s worked, Luther says he has
When he leaves Danbury, Luther bury will probably provide
more ca often spoken to community groups
says he hopes to leave behind that reer satisfaction. He says people who
and invited groups to visit the prison.
kind of facility, a “correctional facil work at high-security prisons
have to He says he expects tO do the same
S
S
in Danbury.
“I would prefer if people had a
better understanding of what goes on
here. There are probably few
things people should be more con
cerned about.”
—

.

.

.

.

—

—

.

.

—

—

—

—

.

.

,-Ip

cnvu ‘r-’P”

•FCI cracks down
on trespassers
By Susan Gerrero
Assistant Sunday editor
The Federal Correctional Institution in Danbury has seen many kinds
of lawbreakers come and go, but it now has a new and elusive variety on
its hands
the common trespasser.
Not that this particular species of perpetrator is serving time at the
prison. The trespasser with whom ,FCI is contending is the kind who,
uninvited, insists upon being there.
Over the past two years, incidents of trespassing and vandalism, War
den Dennis M. Luther says, have risen “dramatically” on the rison reserva
tion, 348 heavily wooded acres in northern Danbury. The prison has always
had a no-trespassing policy, but “the sheer numbers of people coming onto
the property,” have, Luther says, forced a crackdown.
In the next few weeks, prison patrolmen will be armed not only with
handguns and rifles, but cameras.
“The patrolman will ask (trespassers) for identification and take a
—

-

See FCI, Page A-8

FCI
Continued from A-i
photo of them for documentation,”
Luther explains. “Should they come
back and we discover they have al
ready been warned, it’s possible that
we will refer them to the U.S. attor
ney for prosecution.”
Last week, prison staff went door
to door in the neighborhoods around
the prison, distributing a two-page
letter from the warden asking area
residents for their cooperation in the
enforcement of the no-trespassing
policy.

to slip by. Other than the roughly 20
acres on which the medium-security
division of the prison stands, the res
ervation is unfenced. It is a pretty
place. with rolling lawns, thick green
woods and roughly 1,000 feet of la
kefront.
This spring, confronted by what
seemed to be a growing problem,
prison staff erected red-white-andblue-plastic laminate “No Tres
passing” signs all over the reserva
tion. Apparently, the presence of the
phrase “U.S. Government Property”
made them attractive trophies, and
over the past three or four months,
Luther has replaced $800 worth of
stolen signs.

No one has been prosecuted for
trespassing at FCI in recent years.
The current situation is a case, the
warden says, of the few ruining
“They were indestructible,” he
things for the many. “If people had
used common sense, if they had been says now, “but they weren’t burglar
careful r d not destroyed things, proof.” The warden has since de
they might be able to use the prop cided the signs are of so little effect
erty as they have, seemingly, in the that there may not be much point in
replacing them. If he does, it will be
past.”
with paper signs.. That way, Luther
explains,
he
very
recently,
Until
trespassers were “asked to leave says, “if they want to steal them, it’s
very politely and informed that they not a significant loss to the tax
payer.”
are on federal property.”
“The problem is, some people
The brazenness of some of te
particularly the younger people
prison’s trespassers frankly amazes
keep coming back. We have in FCI officials.One weekend alone,
stances where we may have asked Luther says, residents of staff hous
the same person to leave two or ing observed “four or five vehicles
three times.”
pulling boats coming up over the
The reservation is patrolled 24 hill.” The boaters were turned back,
hours a day, seven days a week, by •but they had apparently entered the
prison patrolmen in four-wheel drive reservation prepared to pass not
vehicles, but the size of the reserva only the closely packed staff resi
tion makes it possible for trespassers dences, but to cross the lawn and
—

—

drive alongside the high wire fence
surrounding the main compound,
past various outbuildings, the prison
motor pool and a control tower, at
the moment unmanned. It is only
after the trespasser has run this
gantlet that he reaches the bumpy,
unpaved dirt road that leads through
the woods to the prison beach.
Less flagrant trespassers
on
foot. riding motorcycles, all-terrain
vehicles and in season, snowmobiles
enter the property through its
borders with residential neighbor
hoods and Bear Mountain Park. A
few weeks ago, a band of 30 wouldbe picnickers was stopped by prison
officials as they advanced upon the
picnic tables at the FCI staff beach.
Vandalism at the secluded beach,
on the shore of Candlewood Lake,
has been a continuing headache. The
wooden tables have been repeatedly
thrown in the water and the portable
toilets have been repeatedly over
turned. The volleyball net erected
every summer has been ripped up
and knocked down so nany times
that this year prison authorities fi
nally decided to roll it up. The boat
ramp that appears to be the specific
destination of a number of trespass
ers is blocked off with a thick chain
and will no longer be maintained.
FCI’s dump, close by the mediumsecurity compound, also attracts un
invited visitors who steal firewood
intended for the use of resident staff
and the metal waste the prison col
—

—

lects from its manufacturing opera
tions and welding shop and sells as
scrip. “People drive ifl and help
themselves,” Luther says.
The no-trespassing edict will af
fect even the people who have for
years trained dogs, flown kites and
practiced golf strokes in full view of
the prison on the vast lawn along
Route 37. Prison officials have
tended to look the other way, but
Luther says he must now “take a
hard line.”
“How,” the warden asks, “do you
draw the line?”
Adult and juvenile trespassers ap
prehended on the reservation could
be charged in federal district court
with both civil and criminal tres
pass. Furthermore, as Luther wrote
in an underscored passage in his let
ter to area residents, “cars, motor
cycles, boats or other vehicles
brought onto the reservation by tres
passers are subject to seizure under
federal law.” Also underscored is the
fact “that persons who enter are
subject to search and that entrance
on the reservation constitutes legal
consent to such a search.”
Which means that a trespasser
driving a jeep with a six-pack of
beer in the back could find himself in
hot water with the federal govern
ment. As the sign at the Route 37
entrance to the prison informs the
visitor
or did as of yesterday,
when it was still standing
“it is a
federal crime to bring on these
—

—

premises any weapons, ammunition,
intoxicants, drugs or contraband.”
Iii’ particular, Luther hopes to re
mind the parents of children with
ATVs (all-terrain vehicles), who also
pose a great problem at adjoining
Bear Mountain Park, that they are
not allowed on the reservation. But
he is not optimistic about securing
the cooperation of these young tres
passers with gentle reminders.
“We’ve asked the kids to stop, and
they go whizzing by anyway. The sit
uation may not be tolerable indefin
ately. We hope to use the least
restrictive means possible, but ob
viously we have the manpower to
stop a kid on a motor bike,” Luther
says. “If it continues, we’re probably
going to have to confiscate a motor
bike as an example. We may return
it the first time, but not the second
time.”
Luther’s main concern is security.
Two hundred of the 1,200 inmates
work outside the fenced prison cornpound. and several unhappy possibi
lities exist. Trespassers could be a
means of providing inmates with
drugs, alcohol, weapons or contra
band, or, wittingly or unwittingly, a
vehicle in which to escape. They
might encumber a search for an es
capee or worse, be taken hostage.
And how, Luther asks, is a prison
patrolman to know the difference
between a trespasser with innocuous
intentions and a person who intends
to smuggle drugs or guns to an in-

mate? “We must consider,” his letter
says of trespassers, “that such per
sons may be involved in illegal or
illicit activities.”
Increased trespassing also in
creases the potential for accidents.
When, Luther wonders, is a truck
driven by an inmate going to collide
with an all-terrain vehicle being
driven by a visitor? When will an un
invited swimmer drown? When will
a trespasser wander into the middle
of practice at the prison firing
range?
The prison, legal counsel Kevin
Manson says, is concerned about the
possibility of lawsuits. “Everybody’s
ready to •sue the government,” he
says.
Luther doesn’t know why people so
boldly ignore the prison’s no tres
passing signs. He guesses some tres
passers believe that as taxpapers
they have a right to use U.S. Govern
ment property. The theft of firewood
intended for staff use may be gen
erated, he thinks, by the erroneous
belief that the residents are receiv
ing some kind of “free ride” from
the government. He is quick to point
out, in an interview and in his letter
to FCI’s neighbors, that they pay
rent.
“1 wonder,” he says, musing about
the drivers of cars with boat trailers
in tow who cross clearly posted land
and the people who somehow feel
entitled to the prison’s scrap metal
ahd firewood. “It’s really difficult to
understand the mentality.”

1

Connecticut,

THE NEWS-TIMES, MONDAY, FEB
RUARY 17, 1986

Protester talks without regret from Danb
ury prison

By George Esper
AP special correspondent

DANBURY
Martin Holladay was a 17year-old high school senior when he raile
d
against the war in Vietnam. He was fined
$50 for participating in one protest.
Today, Holladay is 30 and a self-em
ployed carpenter who still acts on his
be
liefs. He has served nine months of
an
eight-year sentence in the Federal Correc
tional Institution here for damaging the
lid
of a nuclear missile silo in Missouri, offi
cially the destruction of national defe
nse
material.
His cause has altered. His fervor has not.
“There’s every reason to believe that if
this arms race continues the only resul
t is
going to be nuclear war,” said Holladay
, a
former Yale student of French litera
ture
who now makes his home in Wheelcoc
k, Vt.
“The arms race continues because of our
inability to take personal responsibility.
I
engaged in civil disobedience because
I
really thought it was necessary.”
His passion runs in the family. His
mother, Jean Holladay, a 57-year-old nurs
e
jailed several days for the same Viet
nam
protest in 1972, is serving a year in
the
—

Rhode Island state prison for damagin
g six
The Plowshares movement began Sept
Trident II missile tubes at the Quo
. 8,
nset 1980, when two priests, Dani
el and Philip
Point shipyard in 1984.
Bern an, and six other men and,
Martin’s sister, Cathy, 33, who was
women
also entered a General Electric
plant in King of
arrested in Vietnam protests, was hit
and Prussia, Pa., near Phila
delphia, damaged
killed by an out-of-control car in Bost
on missile nose cones and pour
ed blood on doc
last June.
uments.
“This has been a rough year for my
fam
The Plowshares have since carried
ily,” said Holladay. “One thing I’ve learn
out 16
ed other protests across the coun
is that life is very fragile.”
try, symboli
cally disarming nuclear weapons
The Holladays belong to a loose colle
while in
c
tion of about 60 individuals who call them flicting minor but real damage on the
first-strike MX, Pershing II, Crui
selves the Plowshares, taken from
se, Min
the uteman and Trident II miss
iles and on the
words of Isaiah in the Old Test
ament, weapons systems of Trid
ent submarines. A
“They shall beat their swords into
plow frequent target has been
the General Dy
shares and their spears into prun
ing namics Electric Boat Divi
sion in Groton,
hooks.”
The Plowshares’ “weapons” are the ham Conn.
All 60 Plowshare activists have been
mer, vials of human blood and the
con
Bible victed for their actions,
some more than
verse, which they hand to arresting
offi once, and 55 have done priso
n time, ranging
cers.
from two months to 18 years. They
The silo attack that sent Holladay
include
to Liz McAlister, a former nun
prison took place last Feb. 19 and
and the wife of
was Philip Berrigan, who was
meant to show support for four Plow
eventually dis
share missed from his order, the
Saint Joseph So
activists about to stand trial in Kans
as City ciety of the Sacred Hear
t, for marrying.
for damaging a Silo the previous Nov
ember. She is serving three years
for a Thanksgiv
Among them was Helen Woodson, the
adop ing Day 1983 attack on a
B-52 bomber con
tive mother of six retarded children,
who is verted to carry cruise
missiles. She is
now serving a 12-year prison sentence.
scheduled for release in August.

A year ago, Holladay took a hammer and
chisel to a concrete silo cover,
spraypainted slogans on it and doused it
with
human blood poured from a plastic
baby
bottle. His attack caused $1,000 dam
age to
transmitters, antennas and electrical
out
lets, according to court papers. Before
he
sat down to await the police, he raise
d a
banner that read “Swords Into
Plow
shares.”
U.S. District Judge Elmo B. Hunter told
Holladay he was making the sente
nce a
stiff eight years because he could have
en
dangered innocent people and to
deter
other protesters. Hunter said he was
not
quarreling with Holladay’s purpose
but
with his means.
“You diverted Air Force personnel and
created a hazardous situation there
be
cause, whether you know it or not, the
Air
Force is authorized to use maximum pow
er
to protect missile sites,” he said.
“The message does have to go out, (that
)
missile sites are dangerous, risky place
s,
that the law will be strictly applied to
pro
tect all of us from something that
might
occur by doing this kind of illegal activ
ity.”
Holladay, who is appealing the conv
ic
tion, can be paroled in October 1987.

His mother’s crime, committed with
four
other activists, was using bolt cutte
rs to
enter the Rhode Island 1flpyard and
then
hammering the metal rims of six miss
ile
tubes, which were also splattered
with
blood and spray-painted with “Hon
or the
Earth.” One of their banners said, “Har
vest
of Hope
Swords Into Plowshares.”
Rhode Island ‘Superior Court Judge John
P. Bourcier sentenced Jean Holladay
to a
year in jail and a $500 fine for mali
cious
damage to property, denying her requ
est
that she be sentenced to community
service
so she could continue to help care
for her
two young grandchildren, Cathy’s offsp
ring.
She may be paroled as early as March.
Jean Holladay has been in prison befo
re,
for two months in Connecticut and
two 30day sentences and a two-month sente
nce at
the women’s prison in Fram’ingham, Mas
s.,
where she had once worked as a nurs
e. The
charges ranged from trespassing
at a la
boratory to pouring blood on blueprint
s at a
plant where nuclear weapons compone
nts
are produced.
In 1984, Holladay served 4½ months
in
federal prisons in Lewisburg, Pa., and
Dan
bury for helping to block doors and
spraypaint walls at the Pentagon.
—

_

.

Warden hopes to unlock secret to rehabifitation
ByJohnPirro
THE NEWS-TIMES

DANBURY
Charles H. Stew
art Jr. wouldn’t have spent the
past two decades working in the
federal prison system if he didn’t
believe he could make a differ
ence.
The new warden at the Federal
Correctional Institution isn’t a
pie-in-the-sky idealist, either.
“All you can do is put the inmate
in a situation where there are pro
grams available to help them, and
hope they have the desire and the
motivation to get involved,” he
said. “Some people wifi do well.
Others won’t.”
Stewart, a 51-year-old Kentucky
native, had seen both kinds of in
mates long before he took com
mand of the women’s prison in
early September. But sitting be
hind the desk in his office last
week, he admitted he’s no better
now at predicting who will stay
straight after being released than
when he started as a social worker
at the federal penitentiary in Lex
ington in 1974.
“I’m a very poor judge of who
will make it and who will not. We
hope we can make a difference.
None of us would be in this busi
ness if we didn’t. But at the same
time, we’re realistic. We know the
--

‘We hope we can
make a difference.
None of us would be in
this business if we
didn’t. But at the same
time, we’re realistic. We
know the
rel ncarceration
rate.
Charles H. Stewart Jr.
Women’s prison warden

reincarceration rate,” he said.
Forty-two percent of all federal
prisoners released after complet
ing their sentences will be recom
mitted, according to Tom Metz
ger, a spokesman for the Bureau
of Prisons.
Earlier this year, FCI, which was
built in 1940, completed the trans
formation from a male to female
institution to cope with the rising
number of women being jailed for
federal crimes.
Since 1988, when the camp at
the Route 37 facility began hous
ing women, the female population
in federal prisons has increased
from 2,949 to more than 6,500.

Women now comprise 7.3 percent
of all federal prisoners, compared
with 6.6 percent six years ago.
Stewart came to Danbury after
three years as associate warden of
the Federal Medical Facility in
Lexington. He succeeded Mau
réen Atwood, who retired.
Although it’s his first assign
ment dealing with an all-female
population, Stewart said it’s no
more difficult running a women’s
prison than one with a male popu
lation.
“You get the same kind of hard
cases in a women’s prison as you
do with men,” he said.
FCI, one of eight federal wom
en’s prisons in the country, is des
ignated as a low-security
institution. Although about 80
percent of the inmates are there
on drug charges, others have been
convicted of a range of crimes, in
cluding murder.
As warden, Stewart earns
$84,900 annually and has the final
say over nearly every aspect of
life for the 870 inmates in the pris
on and 200 prisoners in the ad
joining, minimum-security camp.
He hears all their complaints,
from not being able to find the Charles H. Stewart Jr., the new warden of the federal women’s pris
right kind of lipstick in the com on in Danbury, says running a women’s facility is no more difficult
missary to work assignments.
than one that houses men. He says hard cases crop up in both situa
Pleasesee SECRET, Page 8-2 tions.
——.

0
.-e)
.0
C.

C)

Q’-’

Ce

C)

•‘—‘

-

C)

C)Cen
> 0
bS Ce 0 0
•vCeC)

;-.0
..

-

-

.c.:,

(ID

p

----—‘

‘

C)flCe

i2
ci

0

-

0

Ce

0.
cec)

ce •
.

h1iii

0

Ce

c

.0

‘

ce4

.

-C)
ce

Ce

C%J

f2/7A

0 0

C)

3

.

u

0 -Ce

0.

Ce 0.
-

Ce

Ci) 0. v

-

C)

.0

Ce
.

,..‘

Church helps with prison visits
By Joe Hurley
THE NEWS-TIMES

,.

Maria Rosa wept last week
when she learned that her chil
dren were coming to visit her. Ro
sa has seen Crystal, 8, and Coral,
7, only once in more than two
years.
Oi Saturday, the children, Ro
sa’s parents and her grandmother
will take a special bus from New
York City to the Federal Corre
tiona1 Insti
to
tütion
make the in
frequent vis
it.
“When I
heard they
were com
ing, I was so
I
excfted
started cry
ing,” Rosa said.
Rosa is .one of 25 FCI inmates
who will get a visit from relatives
as part of a program sponsored by
St. Edward’s Roman Catholic
Church in New Fairfield and by
the prison’s Community Rela
tions Board.
For some, it will be a chance to
meet with children they have not
seen for more than a year, said

i i.j

News-Times/Carol Kaliff

Donna Czudak of New Fairfield, and her daughters, Brenna, 4, and Mandy, 8, wrap holiday gifts for the
children of FCI inmates. The gift-giving is a project of their church, St. Edward’s.
Lisa Austin, executive assistant
to warden Charles Stewart.
With $1,000 from the church,
the community relations board.
will charter two buses to take rel

atives from the city to the prison.
More than 50 inmates at the allfemale prison asked to take part
in the program.
“There’s a lot of enthusiasm and

excitement. They’re already ask
ing when the next buses will be
available,” Austin said.

1’ Pleasesee PRISON, PageA-8

!t1t, LPJ

p.

Vt’nson visits
Continued from Page A-i

The prison is trying to find ways to
make it easier for families to visit
their relatives at FCI. Austin said
Danbury was conerted to a wom
en’s prison because there were no
federal prisons for women in the
Northeast. She said many of the
prisoners’ families are from the
New York area, but some of the
families don’t have the resources to
travel.
Female prisoners receive fewer
visitors than their male counter
parts, Austin said, partly because
many of the women are single par
ents. When single parents are ar
rested, their children live with
foster families or with relatives, of
ten grandparents, who are aged and
poor.
Rosa said the only visit she’s had
from her children was during a sim
ilar bus trip sponsored by a Wilton
Church last August.
“My mother is taking care of the
kids, but she has a lot of problems,
especially with money,” said Rosa,
who is serving a 31/2-year sentence
for conspiracy to distribute cocaine.
The bus trip is equally important
to Teresa Cumming, who has two
children in foster care. She said the
state is allowing them to come Sat
urday only because of the special
program.
“I miss my kids. It’s hard to be
away from them,” said Cumming,
who was arrested for bank robbery.
Norman Puffett, a member of the
community relations board, said
the visits have the potential to re
duce tension for the women. Reduc
ing stress can make the women
better prisoners and better citizens
when they are released, he said.
“The experts think this is a very
important token to show the women
they care about them. I think it’s
worth trying. I think it will work,”
Puffett said.
The bus program is similar to one
at a West Virginia prison where FCI
Warden Maureen Atwood worked
before taking over in Danbury. At
wood retired this year.
Austin said the prison can’t spon
sor the trips, but it can help orga
nize them. Once the money was
available, the prison asked the in
mates to sign up if they wanted to
participate.
“Over 50 requested seating, so we
made priorities. We started with
the inmates who have had the few
est number of visits,” she said. The
prison was able to accommodate
about half the requests.

will make additional visiting rooms
available for the inmates and their
visitors.
When the visits are over, each
youngster will get a Christmas pre
sent donated by St. Edward’s pa
rishioners.
Msgr. Martin Ryan, St. Edward’s
pastor, said parish members re
sponded quickly when they were
asked to help the prisoners and
their families. The congregation do
nated $500 at a recent Sunday ser
vice and took another $500 from a
separate fund to sponsor the buses.
Last Sunday, the church asked
parish families to buy and wrap
gifts for the children visiting the in
mates.
“We had the names on cards and
put them out for people to take be
fore the 9 a.m. Mass. There were on
ly a few left at the end of the
service,” said Dorothy Gallagher,
one of the coordinators of the pro
gram.
She said so many people wanted
to participate that the church is
conducting a second present pro
gram. The gifts will be given to Dan
bury-area children.
“People like the one-to-one ap
proach,” Ryan said. He said that
people who want to contribute to
the programs can contact the
church, which will forward the mon
ey to the community relations
board.
The prison’s community relations
board is also sponsoring a book
give-away. The Danbury Public Li
brary and several businesses, in
cluding Grolier and Barnes &
Noble, are contributing books that
will be given to each youngster who
visits the prison during the holi
days.
There are 830 inmates in FCI’s
low-level prison and 213 in the ad
joining prison camp for non-violent
prisoners. A low-level prison is the
middle step in the three-tier federal
system. A high-level prison is for
the most violent offenders.

The two buses will ferry about 90
people
most of them children
to the prison Saturday. The prison
—

—

>7-i- /2—/f--9

LQCAL

20

Danbury• Roxbury• Southbury• Redding
I

/

The News-Times/Wendy Carison

Sarah Thorpe has fun with paints yesterday at the new Wee Wisdom Day Care Center for employees of the Federal Correctional Institution in
Danbury.

‘All comforts of home’ at prison day care

By Nanci G. Hutson
THE NEWS-TIMES

DANBURY
Daisy Duck, Goofy and Pluto
adorn the sparkling white walls above a car
peted play corral where two babies crawl and
climb.

with curly blond hair. The impromptu affec
tion is followed by “Mommy,” revealing this
2’/2-year-old is Austin’s daughter, Brittany.

—

A teacher, with her back against the wall and
legs stretched out on the floor, feeds an infant
cuddled in her arms, while an 11-month-old
girl with a tuft of fine blond hair tugs at her
skirt.
In an adjoining room, a pair of 2-year-olds
make shapes out of green and blue Play-Doh.
Next door, four pre-school children stick paint
brushes into watercolors and spread it around,
creating their own brand of art.
Lisa Austin wears a proud face as she takes a
visitor on a tour of the different rooms, includ
ing the bathroom with its tiny toilets and sinks,
in the Wee Wisdom Day Care Center.
“All the comforts of home,” said Austin
even though it’s on the grounds of the Federal
Correctional Institution.
—

The center, for children of FCI staff mem
bers, is a first in the federal prison system.
As Austin entered one of the rooms, she is
greeted with a hug from an enthusiastic child

In just six months, she has created a haven
for children whose parents work in the prison.
“We’ve been waiting for it to open since be
fore we were pregnant with Chelsea,” Candis
Wheeler-LaManna said of her 11-month-old
daughter, who she picked up at the center yes
terday afternoon.
Wheeler-LaManna, a secretary in the associ
ate warden’s office, said she is comforted just
knowing her daughter is so close, and she is
free to call the center at any time.
“They’re loving,” she said about the staff of
seven, four of whom have children enrolled in
the center. “They all really care about her. It’s
not like she’s stuck in a corner and forgotten
about.”
“I love it. It’s so convenient,” said Jan Perry
as she arrived to take her 4-year-old son Mat
thew home.
She said her son likes the center so much that
he doesn’t even let her walk into the building
with him in the morning.
“He has to do it all himself. He loves it here,”
Perry said.
The praises from the parents are welcome

words to Austin and Warden John Sullivan,
who has promoted the center since his arrival
at the prison 1’/2 years ago.
“We’re really pleased,” Sullivan said. ‘It’s the
birth of a program I never expected to see in
my 25 years in the system.”
He said the state-licensed center is flexible,
which allows for occasional care as well as fulland part.time care. The cost is $90 a week for
full-time care of infants to children up to age 3;
$80 a week for children older than 3. The cost
is $18 a day for people who drop off their chil
dren for a day.
The doors opened Aug. 1 with eight children,
and has since expanded to 18. The center is li
censed for up to 41 children.
Austin said she expects the center will begin
to fill after employees become more familiar
with what is offered and hear about it from
parents already using the facility.
Inmates are allowed to work in the area only
when the children are inside and correctional
staff accompany any inmates in the area, Sulli
van said.
If an inmate were to escape from the prison,
Sullivan said, security patrols would be sent to
the center immediately to ensure the chil
dren’s safety.
“It’s warm, a place you’d want to go to,” Sulli
van said.

-

Cl)

Cl)

Cfl•

DQ

CD

CDO0Cfl
CI2

‘-CD
D $,.‘‘CDCDi

‘

6

CD
CDCD

<
CD 0
CD-I
CD

CD
CDCD’C’,
<
CD q

-

CD

©

CD c.’

,

D
CD
CD ,

)

CDqU)

—

CM

Cl)

=

-,-CD

CD

CD-

CD.CDCD

D”

CD

‘1

)‘0

CD—O
CDCDCD

c-CD

CD

cD

‘CD

CD0

CD-

CD
CD O

-

,..
)

0

Cl)

0

0
o

.

,.

CD-

Cl)

,....

O CD..

CD..

CD-

,.-.,>
CD

‘CD 0

CD0O<

e4

-‘
‘

CD

CjJ

u-—

,.+

0 0
•

Cl)

.

CD0
CD-

-CD-;

CD0

:

Cl) ‘D
0 CD 0
CD
,.,-:10
CD O ‘
‘
- -‘:‘,CDCD ‘et
CDD
‘,
CD CD CD CD
,
-q-CD -CD
CD
CD

rdI

C

—

THE NEWS-TIMES

Cl)

CD
— ‘<

.. $)

0<CD

sg

..

—.

CD

‘1

•Cj).

CD..

‘-

‘

CD-

—

c,

CD

oI

CD.

•

b’

Ct

job eight hours a day.
Before she married Aldrich Ames
in 1985, she’d been employed as a
cultural attache in the Colombian
Embassy in Mexico City, where she
met her husband. Before that, she’d
taught literature and language at
the University of the Andes in her
native country.
Prison jobs include working in the
kitchen or laundry for 6 cents an
hour, being part of a maintenance
crew, and teaching other inmates
trying to earn high school equiva
lency diplomas.
The highest-paying inmate jobs at
FCI involve working at a prison fac
tory that has a contract to provide
electronics cable to defense con
tractors. But there is a long waiting
list for those positions, which pay
up to $1.20 per hour, prison spokes
man Lisa Austin said.

0\

CMCDZ

•1
Cl)

.Cr4

.C%C
—
l)

I

Central Intelligence Agency, was
paid more than $2.5 million by the
DANBURY
The Federal Cor Russians for betraying his country’s
rectional Institution off Pembroke secrets, including the identities of
SRoad has held more than its share numerous foreigners who were spy
‘bf the noted and notorious through ing for the CIA.
out 50-plus years it’s been around.
Rosario Ames, who turns 42 next
-....
Disgraced politicians. Mafia king week, was given a minimum sen
pins. Watergate conspirators. Last tence as part of a deal to ensure her
1 year, New York hotel empress husband’s cooperation in
assessing
Leona Helmsley served 23 months the damage he’d caused to U.S. in
of her sentence for income tax eva telligence-gathering operations.
sion at the minimum-security camp
She asked to do her time in Dan
situated on the prison grounds.
bury because it’s within driving dis
For most of the next four years, tance of New York’s Kennedy
Rosario C. Ames will get her mall at International Airport, where her
FCI, too.
son, Paul, now in the care of grand
The Colombian-born wife of con parents in Colombia, can fly to visit
victed spy Aldrich H. Ames began her.
serving her 63-month sentence
Prison officials refused to discuss
there Nov. 15, after she pleaded any specifics about Ames. But like
guilty in federal court in Virginia to any other inmate incarcerated in
a
helping her husband spy for Mos federal institution, she’s require
d
cow. Ames, a career officer in the to either attend school or work at a

By John Pirro

Convicted s’y’s ‘wife begins FCI term

-

—

.øg’tz

\9O

F
at

I
50

Danbury’s federal prison
has been an institution in
the community for haifa
century. Observances this
weekend mark that time.

__

a a

w a-

t_

;3
A

-

‘: —:

L)
-

1-_..,p.a’ø”

—

t:./---*”-st

;:

F

r

“—

_jr

¶*-‘
:

-

L

.wtfft

.

.‘

,s*-

,‘.$

‘‘

c:

r

j...

.

-

..

:: ;Jz1
.

4

,

t’

.:

-

_._)_,t

‘

. ;-

.

-

:

(i

•ta

it!*

:

‘a

..-

—

-

:

.

:*

*;

:

.

-

4*

/

‘1

1

An aerial view of FCI shortly after its com

Courtesy Scott- Fanton Museum,
Danbury

pletion in 1940. Then, the city’s Pembroke Dist
rict

I

was mostly farms.

Prison wins over
reluctant host

BY Nanci G. Hutson

THE NEWS-TIMES

—

DANBURY
A sea of mud surrounded
the new federal prison on a hillside
on the
northern border of Danbury.
“You’ve never seen so much mud in your
life. There was no grass, no nothing,”
says
William Berth, 72, of Bridgewater. That
was 50 years ago; yesterday, Berth,
an
original FCI staff member, was among
the
past and present staff members who
at
tended the prison’s 50th anniversary
par
ty.
The white-haired former prison indu
s
tries superintendent remembers
how
wood planks were placed along the ground
for walkways.
“There’s been a lot of money and hours
put into making the prison grounds what
they are now,” says Berth, who retired
in
1967 after 27 years. “It was just a cow
pas
ture.”
The anniversary dinner-dance reflected
on the prison’s history and naid tribute tn

for walkways.
“There’s been a lot of money and hours
put into making the prison grounds what
they are now,” says Berth, who retired in
1967 after 27 years. “It was just a cow pas
ture.”
The anniversary dinner-dance reflected
on the prison’s history and paid tribute to
all the staff, past and present, responsible
for maintaining the facility.
FCI’s original 200 acres were almost sold
to an organization of a much different sort.
The Mid-Fairfield Council of Boy Scouts
had eyed the Ruffles Farm for a camp for
three years. The scouts were infuriated
when the property was sold instead to the
government for a prison, and a war of tele
grams to Washington, D.C. ensued.
According to the Bridgeport Sunday
Post of July 17, 1938, anti-prison missives
were launched by those who feared an on
slaught of dangerous criminals and “sirens
in the night” as well as the plummeting of
property values in the summer colonies on
Lake Candlewood. On the pro side, the
newspaper reported, were labor leaders,
businessmen and the city service clubs,
who savored the prospect of “a yearly
$250,000 payroll to augment the slack in

William Berth was a member of FCI’s
staff on the day it opened. “It was just a
cow pasture,” he says of the grounds.
the declining hat manufacturing busi
ness.” In the end, the prison prevailed.
Conceived as a low-security facility for a
maximum of 600 male prisoners, FCI now
houses about 1,200 male prisoners in the
maln, medium-security building and about
165 women in a minimum-security prison
camp.
Today, green lawns and inmate-tended
flowers adorn the former mud hole. As the
prison has grown, so have its surround
ings. Houses and trees have sprung up in
the open fields that once comprised the ru
ral district of Pembroke three miles from
the center of Danbury.
Berth, a native of Rhode Island, was un
impressed by what he saw when his train
pulled into the White Street train station
from Washington, D.C.
See FCI, Page B-3

A place of many changes
By Nanci G. Hutson
THE NEWS-TIMES

DANBURY
On John Sullivan’s first
night at the Federal Correctional Institu
tion, he found himself locked in.
He and some other bachelor prison
guards shared second-floor quarters. To
Sullivan’s dismay, he found himself unable
to open the door to leave his room. He
pounded on the wall, fearing he and the
others had been locked in for the night.
But he quickly discovered he wasn’t being
detained; the door was just stuck.
Sullivan wasn’t stuck at FCI
he went
on to work at 11 different institutions,
most recently as warden of the federal
prison in Sandstone, Minn. but 25 years
later, he’s back as its warden.
But if Sullivan’s presence is a reminder
of the past, it’s one of the few. The bache
—

—

—

The News-Times/Wendy Carison

Flowers tended by inmates bloom in the courtyard at the Federal Correctional Institution in Danbury
hole that areeted the nrison’s first residents !0 vear ann

—

a far cry from the mud

sonnel offices, just one of many evolutions
that have taken place at the prison where
Sullivan started his career.
“At one time, this (prison) was sort of the
pits because it was in no man’s land,” said
Sullivan, 52, who returned to the prison in
February 1989. Sullivan never dreamed
he would return, but he was pleased to
find FCI less isolated than it was when last
he saw it.
Now the land is considered prime real es
tate, with many a visitor proclaiming that
the view of Candlewood Lake from the
minimum-security prison camp is the best
in the city. Five years ago, Sullivan said,
the land alone was valued at $75 million.
In the early days, few people ventured
out to the prison, and for the most part the
surrounding property was farmland, Sulli
van said.

-

7__

.

c_ 4 )

12.

/

LOCAL

THE NEWS-TIMES, SUNDAY, AUGUST 5, 1990

FCI

B-3

Through the years

Continued from Page B-i
“I took one look at Danbury and
says, ‘My gosh, is this where I’m go
ing to be?’ I didn’t know where the
train was going, but I nearly
climbed back on.”
Before coming to Danbury, Berth
and three other men spent about six
months in Washington, D.C. pur
chasing supplies and equipment
“food, beds, blankets, everything
that would make the prison go.”
And though he had a less than fa
vorable first impression of Dan
bury, Berth came to consider it a
fine place to live.
He recalls the first view the public
got of FCI on a Sunday in the sum
mer of 1940. Described as “the most
modern in the U.S.,” it was of a
“self-enclosed” design that elimi
nated• the necessity of walls. The
“radical” $2 million institution at
tracted vast crowds.
“Where those people came from I
don’t know, but they came by the
thousands,” Berth says.
The first prisoners arrived Aug. 6
of that year. Many were draft resist
ers.
Over the years, Berth says, the
crimes committed by the prisoners
ranged from “A to Z.” One of the
more famous early prisoners was
former Boston Mayor James Mi
chael Curley “who was more color
ful than Mayor (Edward) Koch ever
thought of being.” Berth also recalls
“some communists, congressmen
and during the McCarthy era, some
of the Hollywood 10.
After Berth’s 1967 retirement, the
guest roster included the Berrigan
brothers, Daniel and Philip, priests
jailed for their anti-war activities;
James Pardue, who with his brother
blew up the Danbury police station
and a local bank; G. Gordon Liddy,
the recipient of the longest prison
sentence in the Watergate scandal;
and the Rev. Sun Myung Moon, the
leader of the Unification Church
who was sentenced to 18 months in
1984 for tax evasion.

Highlights of FCI’s
50-year history:
• 1938
Announcement is
made of plans to build a mini
mum-security prison for 600
mle inmates in Danbury. An al
location of $1.75 million is made
to build it. Loud objections are
heard from residents and real
estate agents but he business
community welcomes the idea.
• May 1939
Construction
begins on about 200 acres on
what was known as Thomas
Mountain.
• July 9, 1940— Danbury Day,
the first public inspection of the
new federal prison. Thousands
of local residents attend the
open house.
• Aug. 6, 1940— The first pris
oners arrive.
• May 17, 1941
The first es
cape. Julio Ramires, 23, of New
York City, fled the prison, but
was later caught in New York
City.
• 1 943
A farm is established
on the grounds. A saw mill is
created to build the farm build
ings, a dairy barn, a piggery and
a silo. Farm program is phased
out about 20 years later.
• 1943
The Bureau of Pris
ons approves the purchase of
more property, including 1,500
feet of frontage on Lake Can
dlewood from Connecticut
Light and Power Co.
• 1946
About 50 conscien
tious objectors attempt to
march up FCIs driveway in
sympathy with their jailed peers.
Among their placards: “Dan
bury U.S. Concentration
Camp.” Veterans stage a count
er-demonstration.
• 1958
More than 100 in
mates participate in a drug ex
periment for Pfizer and Co. They
test an antibiotic pill.
• 1963
The School of Horti
culture opens. It has since
closed.
• 1965
Inmates start work
ing at local businesses as part of
a work-release program. Be
tween 1967 and 1968, 119 in
mates participate in the workrelease program. Among them
were jailed broker Herbert (Jo
hannes) Steel, who became a
columnist on stocks for The
News-Times.
• In the 1960s and 1970s, an
ti-war activists were among the
inmates. On one occasion, sev
eral inmates climbed to the top
of the water tower at the prison
as a nrotest That nromnted the
—

—

—

—

—

—

Today, 65 percent of the prisoners
are serving time for narcotics viola
tions.
Inmates ate well when Berth was
overseeing the glove factory and
typewriter repair shop. The prison
farm, more than 100 acres in size,
produced vegetables, milk, beef and
veal, eggs, pork and chicken for the
dining hail.
But the farm had another purpose
as well: “Because most Danbury in
mates come from urban centers, few
have any past experience in farm
ing. When assigned to the farm,
they learn much about food produc
tioi and get valuable training and
experience in vegetable growing
and animal husbandry,” according
to a post-World War II manual.
The farm is a thing of the past: few
traces of it remain. Community re
sistance to FCI vanished long be
fore woods overtook its rocky fields.
Once they were certain the prison
was “no Alcatraz,” Danburians
came to consider it a good neighbor.
“I love it being there,” says Gina
Weckle, who bought a house near
FCI six years ago. “It’s very peace
ful. The grounds are gorgeous. And
I don’t worry about anyone escap

—

—

—

—

The News-Times/Carol KLaliff

The low-security prison camp, completed in 1982, has no fences or bars. It was converted to a facility for FCI’s
first female inmates in 1988.
you want to do it and where you ago, the prison’s minimum-se
ed, it’s your goal to end up there,”
curity
want to do it, can it be a country camp was converted to an
Weckle says.
all-fe-

John Sullivan
Warden, FCI at Danbury

lul. The grounds are gorgeous. And
I don’t worry about anyone escap
ing from there. There’s no hard
criminals, and if they do escape,
they’re going to hurry up and get
out of here”
Before she bought her house, she
knew of the prison’s reputation.
“I heard about the famous ‘coun
try club,’ and if you ever get arrest-

ed, it’s

your

goal

tO end up there,

Weckle says.
Berth says FCI won the country
club designation before it ever
opened, thanks, he believes, to
right-wing columnist Westbrook
Pegler of New Canaan. He dis
agrees with the appellation.
“Anytime you’re locked up and
not doing what you want todo when

yu

u

Ut, IL

tina wnere you

want to do it, can it be a country
club?” Berth asked.
“Maybe it’s a country club com
pared to Marion, ill. (the federal
prison system’s highest-level secu
rity penitentiary). It’s all relative,”
Berth says.
During Berth’s tenure, all of the
prisoners were males. Two years

Change
Continued from Page B-i
“It used to remind me of building
peo
a house next to a cemetery
pie were afraid of the prison and
what was going on up on the hill,”
Sullivan said. “People used to ask
me, ‘Why do you work in a prison?’”
One surprise upon his return was
the Pembroke Elementary School
across the street from the prison
and the attractive residential
neighborhoods around the block.
Over the years, he said, it seems
local residents have adopted a liveand-let-live attitude toward the in
stitution, he said.
The prison was originally built for
a maximum of 600 prisoners; today,
the main population fluctuates be
tween about 1,100 and 1,200 prison
ers daily.
At one time, most prisoners were
draft resisters or those serving time
for bank robbery, auto theft and
white-collar crime, he said. Today,
65 percent of the roughly 1,250 in
mates are behind bars for drug of
fenses, Sullivan said.
—

Two years ago, a few tongues
wagged when women in khaki pris
on garb started mowing the vast
front lawn. In September 1988, the
prison camp was converted into a
facility for female inmates. The
• prison camp houses about 165 wom
en, about 14 percent of the entire
• prison population.
Sullivan said he believes there
isn’t as much mystery about the
prison as once existed. He credits
much of that to a more open atmo
sphere with the local media and
/ with the public at large.
In 1965, about the only time news
paper reporters covered a story at
the prison was when there was an
escape or a serious assault, Sullivan
said- The rest of the time, reporters
were unwelcome.
“We used to be a closed society up
here,” he said.
Local residents are now encour
aged to tour the prison and, in re
cent years, prison officials have
hosted an annual open house for all
local media.

“At onetime, this
(prison)was sort of
the pits because it
was in no man’s land.”
John Sullivan
The fact FCI has lasted 50 years
“shows that you can have a prison in
your community and not jeopardize
it,” Sullivan said.
“Maybe people don’t like prisons,
but we’ve been an industry that has
stayed for the good and the bad,”
Sullivan said. “Nobody is proud of
prisons, but there is no alternative.
You have to have them.
“We want to thank the community
for the first 50 years and hope we
won’t let you down in the next 50
years,” Sullivan said.

The News-Times/Carol Kaliff

Lisa Austin, director of FCI’s new Day Care Center, with Micah Lamitie.
21/a, and his brother, Jacob, 61/a, children of an FCI employee.

ago, me prisons minimum-security
camp was converted to an all-fe
male facility.
The prison’s mission has changed
through the years, alternating be
tween practical considerations and
idealistic concerns.
When it was built, FCI’s goal was
rehabiLitating, rather than strictly
isolating, criminals. “The prevail
ing philosophy of education at Dan
bury,” says the manual, “is to
consider inmates primarily as
adults in need of training and sec
ondarily as criminals in need of re
form. The aim is to provide every
educational opportunity that expe
rience or sound reasoning shows
may be of benefit or interest to in
mates in the hope of that they may
be fitted to live more competently,
satisfyingly and cooperatively in so
ciety.”
Toward that end, inmates were,
and still are, offered classes and vo
cational training. In the early years,
they were also subject to many re
strictions. For instance, as The
Bridgeport Sunday Post related in
an article about the soon-to-becompleted prison in 1939, “married
prisoners will not be permitted to
write or receive mail from unmar
ried women unless they are related.
Unmarried prisoners are not to cor
respond with married women un
less related.” Inmates were to be
allowed to read newspapers “but
magazines are not permitted.”
Since that time, prison officials
have relaxed the rules quite a bit.
But rehabilitation has come to be
viewed as an impossible mission
unless the prisoner is motivated to

—

change.
“The prison was run much differ
ently than it is now,” Berth says.
John Sullivan, the current war
den, says the prison’s duty is to
keep people who have committed
crimes away from society in a re
stricted environment. Still, he says,
it is important to offer programs to
help inmates to improve them
selves.
In the 1990s, more changes are ex

pected.

The News-Times/Carol Kaliff

Correctional Officer Bill Austin (no relation to Lisa) does leg presses in the new Wellness Center for staff
members.

A new staff training and day-care
center will open soon and a new jail
unit with room for 200 inmates is on
the drawing board. Progress is al
ready under way on a $500,000 com
missary next to the prison camp.
Measures to enhance security have
been added, and by 1991, Sullivan
hopes to secure a $15 million appro
priation for major refurbishing
within the main institution.
Berth has visited FCI about three
times since he retired to work in a

small company.

ot tfle water tower at the prison
as a protest. That prompted the
installation of a fence at the
base of the tower.
• Feb. 28, 1972
About 500
prisoners refuse to work. The
work stoppage lasted for two
weeks. Another work protest
occurs in December 1973.
Anti-war
• July 11, 1972
priest Daniel Berrigan calls FCI
a “popsicle prison.’ He and his
brother, Philip, were sentenced
to the prison for their anti-war
activities.
• 1975
FCI begins focus on
the hiring of minorities and
women in the custodial work
force.
• 1975
A Watergate figure,
G. Gordon Liddy, is sentenced
to serve time in Danbury, He is
released in 1 977.
• July 7, 1977— A fire believed
to have been deliberately started
in a second-story dormitory
causes the death of five inmates,
and injuries to 80 prisoners.
staff and firefighters.
• Late 1 970s
Reconstruction
years. Dormitories were remod
eled and a new education com
plex was built.
• October 1 978
Construc
tion of a minimum-security pris
on camp begins. Completed in
1 982, it has no barriers. The
camp initially houses 175 male
prisoners,
The prison
• August 1988
camp is converted into an allfemale facility, now occupied by
165 inmates.
• Late 1980s
Funding ap
proved for a new staff training
and day-care center. Construc
tion nears completion.
—

—

—

—

—

—

—

—

“The prison work was fascinat
ing,” Berth says. “There were days
when you should have paid admis
sion for the privilege to work there,
and then there were other days
when you had no desire to be here
because it was just tough, stressful
Work.” The word hadn’t yet entered
the language, but Berth guesses he
had “burn out.”
“If I had stayed, I doubt I would
have lived to be 55. It was getting to
me.
“A prison is a study in human rela
tions at its upmost, in which you
have a group of people who are liv
ing under abnormal circumstances
and their behavior tends to be ab
normal. They could not live as they
did on the street, so you have a pe
culiar relationship,” Berth says.
As for the guards “You all have
to be working together,” he says.
—

- ;-

t-9o

,

THE NEVVS-TIMES

TuesdayJuly3,1990

FCI firefighters ready, willing and able

By Nanci G. Hutson

—

THE NEWS-TIMES

—

DANBURY
David Twomey be
lieves he has one of the premier assign
ments for a federal prison inmate he
is a firefighter for the Federal Correc
tional Institution’s Fire Department.
The job pays nothing and it won’t get
him a release from prison any sooner.
But the 44-year-old inmate said the
position gives him and other inmates
who also are members of the volunteer
fire cadre a sense of accomplishment
and pride.
“To be selected is an honor in the in
stitution, and for the inmates them
selves,” said Twomey, who has been at
the Federal Correctional Institution on
Route 37 in Danbury since December
1987. He is serving a 16-year sentence
for conspiracy to defraud and obstruc
tion of justice. Twomey joined the fire
corps in June 1988.
Working in the fire department also
offers the inmates skills they can use
once they are released.
“It’s going for something that nothing
else can give them,” Tworney said. “It
gives them the training they need for a
job when they leave.”
Later this month, the 16 inmates and
10 staff members in the prison’s Fire
Department will begin a 15-week, 120hour state course required for begin
ning firefighter-level certification. And
Twomey said that will not only give the
inmate volunteers more skills to assist
the institution, but once they are re
leased they have at least the minimum
requirements needed to join a volun
teer department &r even a paid depart
ment.
FCI safety manager Jack Wilson, who
also serves as the prison’s fire chief,
said the inmate volunteers are careful
ly selected and the ones chosen are
committed to serving and getting the
training needed to do the job.
“Our main theme is to give them

The News-Times/Carol Kaliff
Jack Wilson of Danbury, safety manager
and fire chief at the Federal Correctional
Institution in Danbury, checks
the water hose on one of three fire trucks owned
by the prison.
something they can work at,” Wilson
the prison’s opening in 1940. Wilson
said. ‘Nothing is nobler than saving
“The city’s been real good to us,” he
said.
people’s lives and performing a service
said.
The prison originally had its own fire
for the community.”
The Danbury Fire Department in
brigade because it was located in one of
All fire-crew inmates
eight men the most remote areas of
April donated a 1973 pumper truck,
the
city,
said
and eight women are prisoners with
Assistant Warden Steve Dewalt. If the which is being refurbished in the prison
the lowest security level and have cornprison was to be built in the same loca garage. The prison now has three fire
munity custody, which allows them to
tion today, it probably would not have engines: two pumpers and a 1,200-gal
leave the prison grounds. Wilson said
lon tanker, formerly an Air Force gas
some of the training is done at the city’s an in-house fire department, he said.
truck, which also is being refurbished.
The prison Fire Department is not
fire school near the landfill,
a
“I really look forward to the day that —
The FCI is only one of five institutions replacement for the city’s department,
Wilson said, but is simply an additio
n we can give back to the community,”
in the entire federal prison system a
that can increase the service that is Wilson said. “We want to be
total of 62 prisons
an integral
that has its own available to both the
institution and the part of the city’s Fire Department.”
fire department. The unit dates back to
community.
See FCI, PageN-3 II
—
—

—

—

—

‘Ci

.

Ce

z
E

2

-‘

C)
I-’

C).—
CC

0.C)
Ce>
-.0

E

“
no
ea

-

.0

.B

‘

0

o
o

CIC

CeCC)

C)
“C

C)

Clfi

IV!
Q

.

-

>‘

C)

.0 CC

,s::f5

—

I THE NEWS-TIMES

Tuesday

Novemberl3,1990

NEIGHBORS

r

\Women move up in the ranks at FCI
By Nanci G. Hutson

women who have made it into a prison’s
administrative hierarchy.
“I don’t look at sex of the person I’m
woHdng with, I look at them for their
competence and how to achieve goals,”
Meyer said. “I think it is easier on us
than it is for our male counterparts.
The ones who accept us have a harder
time than we do.”

THE NEWS-TIMES

DANBURY
Ask Federal Correc
tional Institution Warden John Sulli
van what he thinks about having three
women on his executive staff and he
quickly says it’s about time.
“I never thought I’d see them rise
through the ranks,” said Sullivan, a 25year veteran of the federal prison sys
tem. “When I was a correctional office
here (in Danbury) the two female secre
taries had to be escorted everywhere.”
Now the six-member executive staff of
the prison includes three women: Pen
ny Clarkson, associate warden of indus
try and education; Doris Meyer, prison
camp administrator; and Natalie Lan
dy, executive assistant to the warden.
Even though the FCI now has women
in the executive branch, and several
other female managers, it is still not the
norm throughout the prison system.
“I think it’s been along time coming,”
Sullivan said. “I’m glad to see it hap
pening.”
It is a good sign when people can be
mature enough to see “people for their
ability versus their gender,” he said.
However, Sullivan will admit there
are still some places and jobs in the
prison system where he would not favor
a woman, mostly due to safety reasons.
The women counter that some of those
jobs would be dangerous regardless of
who worked in them.
Clarkson and Meyer are no strangers
to being the only women working jobs
traditionally considered male-only.
“Throughout my career, many times I
have been the only female in my posi
tion,” said Clarkson, 40, the mother of
three children
Stephen, 20, Erika,
18, and Jason, 16. “It doesn’t bother me
to be one of the few women. I find it
challenging. Here at Danbury we are
the exception, and that’s due to the
warden because he is supportive of
women and minorities, and treating us
equally. I do feel that I am treated
equally. I’m comfortable with the peo
ple we have now.”
Clarkson started her 10-year career
with the Bureau of Prisons as a correc
tional officer in Danbury and was then
promoted to a trainee in the glove fac
tory there. From that point she was
promoted through the ranks in the in
dustries division at different prisons,
she said.
“I never grew up thinking I wanted to
go into corrections,” she said.
She started in real estate and decided
to take a course in criminal justice,
which eventually led to a criminal jus
tice degree.
Clarkson oversees a $16 million pris
on factory operation as well as the pris
on education program and staffing. She
—

For a time, Meyer was the only wom
an in the entire federal prison system
serving as a captain.
“After men get over the shock of see
ing a woman doing ajob that is predom
inantly male, and see the competence
and ability, they have confidence,”
Clarkson said.
“This should not be a story, this
should just be accepted,” said associate
warden Jim Rich, who recently was
transferred to a prison in Houston.
At the FCI in Danbury, he said, he
would bet that the representation of
women in the middle-management
ranks at the prison probably exceeds
the community standard. Of the pris
on’s staff population of about 300, about
80 are women, he said.
“To work well with someone you must
respect them and it doesn’t matter if
that’s a man or a woman,” said Landy,
42, the mother of three children
Brett, 21, Mark, 20, and Trisha, 18. In
May, Landy replaced Craig Apker as
the warden’s executive assistant. Her
job entails fielding media calls, public
relations, coordination of community
events and any other duties the warden
delegates.
—

Landy started out at the FCI in 1986
as a registered nurse and a year later
she was promoted to assistant health
services administrator.

—

The News-Times/David W. Harple

Doris Meyer, from left, Penny Clarkson and Natalie Landy are in executive
positions at the Federal Correctional Institution in Danbury.
is responsible br the financial aspects
of prison industries, purchasing all the
materials necessary to build the cables
and assuring that Department of De
fense contracts are fulfilled. She also
must make sure there is always a stable
inmate work force.
Meyer, 42, has spent 14 years in the
federal prison system. Her transfer to
an administrative position at Danbury
was a dramatic change from working as
a captain at the federal prison in Loret
ta, Pa.
“I told my son (Chris, 17) after I got
the job that I haven’t laughed so hard in

a long time,” Meyer said of heading the
prison camp, which houses about 180
female inmates.
Meyer, who previously worked with
both male and female inmates in the
other seven prisons where she. served,
said her position gives her a chance to
do positive things for the women who
serve sentences here. She said many
have little education and few job skills.
If they can be taught skills, they will be
better prepared for the outside world
when they leave.
And Meyer seems to be rather non
chalant about being one of the few

She said what is crucial in the prison
system is for women who have entered
administrative ranks to convince other
women that they can reach higher goals
and assist them in doing so.
“The best advocates I’ve had were
correctional officers and they were the
macho men,” Meyer said.
“There is an old saying that behind
every successful man there is a woman;
well, in our business behind every suc
cessful woman is a man,” Clarkson said.
Sullivan said seeing the rise of women
in the prison system has been an “exhil
arating and rewarding experience.”
“And there’s not one of them I would
mind working for,” he said.
But he couldn’t resist finding at least
one drawback.
“They never lift the seat,” he joked.

I

I’

v-I

a),
4-)

I

C
0

(fl

U)

00.

>-a)

C

0)

•Oh..

(I)

a

zo
4’

00)

4-’

—C.)

0)

4-’

.2
00)

00

‘
-

0) 4’

—a)

0)

0)0

b

U)

0.

00

Co

0-4-’
0)

.

4’
4’ 0)
L

DC.)

CO)

U)

04-’

4’

4’ 4’

.4-

;-‘ _-4

a)f4’
2

U)

C

U)
U)

a)

‘.

U)

0

a)
Ca)

0

0 C

a)

U)

4-’

__