Rehabilitation program started by Lansing penitentiary inmates
(Editor's note: These two Kansan reporters visited the Kansas State Penitentiary at Lansing last night to hear a talk which is presented once each week by the inmates of the
prison to explain conditions at the institution and the rehabilitation process which is conducted. The following are their individual impressions of what they saw.)
--an alcoholic, but you know how it is when you've had a little too much to drink. Sometimes you just go wild."
By RICK PENDERGRASS
Kansan Staff Writer
The fat man coughed like a steam engine, the bald man stared at his fingernails and the college man told the story of his 17 years in prison.
"When I was a youngster, I got into a little trouble up in Nebraska," he said. "That was when I dropped out of high school.
"When I got out of the Nebraska pen, I went back to school, but that didn't last long. I was living in Missouri when the drinking problem began. I'm not
He sighed and looked to the fat man for help. He was ashamed for being there and for a moment, I was ashamed for being a "square man," a free man, so I said I knew how it was to throw a wild drunk too.
He smiled and went on "I was in the Missouri pen for eight years. The worst part about prison is when you get out. I didn't recognize my own sister. Hell, I didn't even remember the front gate.
Visitor glimpses the 'closed world'
By PHYLLIS JONES Kansan Staff Writer
The heavy brick building faintly reminiscent of an old English castle reeked of somberness and stillness. The armed guard high in the tower looked stern and almighty.
As I walked nearer to the Kansas State Penitentiary, the building looked more foreboding, Or, perhaps, the foreboding increased inside me as I realized that once inside those doors I would lose my freedom.
While I waited in the visitor's lounge for the other guests to arrive, inmates who were outside trustees marched through the door. Not wanting to stare, but driven by an unexplainable fascination, I gazed into the eyes of old and young men, tall and short men, with one thing in common—they all looked helpless and tired.
These men were assembling for the vocational placement program held every Thursday from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. for inmates.
Several more guests arrived—Father Ericson and four students from the Savior of the World Seminary and five men in conservative business suits. We were marked on the right hand with a colorless liquid which glowed under ultra-violet light. I checked my purse in with the guard and started the seemingly endless trip through the barred doors. When the doors noiselessly slid shut behind me, I fought down a rising feeling of panic.
As we approached the combination gymnasium and auditorium where the program was held, we were met by a line of inmates who smiled and shook our hands. My attention was drawn immediately to the one black inmate on the greeting line who smiled and said his name was Richard. He looked familiar. In vain I probed my mind for some sign of recognition.
We entered the auditorium where almost 300 inmates were already seated and walked down to the basketball court where seats for the guests had been set up. The speaker's rostrum was in the center with chairs for the vocational placement panel
May 9 1969 KANSAN 7
members on the left. Behind the improvised stage was a banner with the words "challenge" written in huge, red letters.
The inmates sat fidgeting quietly or languidly smoking cigarettes. Occasionally someone laughed softly or hastily smothered a cough. A churchlike atmosphere filled the auditorium.
Because only 12 of the 40 expected guests had arrived, the program was delayed. A man from the "outside" who everyone seemed to know gave an impromptu speech to "kill time." His not-so-funny jokes were met with loud laughter and the men grew visibly more comfortable. Finally, eight persons from Kansas City, six women and two men, arrived and the program started.
When the master of ceremonies, who identified himself as a "lifer," introduced us, the inmates clapped vigorously. As I stood self-consciously, I wondered why we rated applause. Were people from the "outside"—by the very fact that they were free—so special?
The first inmate to speak criticized the state for spending money for incarceration rather than rehabilitation. He asked how many inmates had seen a guidance counselor and two prisoners raised their hands.
The speaker, who said many prisoners never saw a parole board, suggested a merit system whereby the prisoners would be judged on how they acted, their progress in prison, and their general attitude. This system, he said, would cut down on violence in the prison, serve as incentive to the inmates, and reduce the number of prisoners who return to jail.
"I don't know who mine is," someone yelled from the back of the room.
The next speaker, one of the well-dressed businessmen urged the prisoners to "strive for the best that is in you." He too spoke with an all-knowing air, as if lecturing to a group of kindergarten students. As the inmates clapped politely at the end of his speech, I felt sorry for
After his speech, a 17-year-old student from the Savior of the World Seminary talked about love. The inmates listened indifferently as the naive youngster concluded that love was the answer to all their problems.
(Continued to page 13)
"That was in 1957 when all the cars and the big tail lights. Remember? I thought they were colored headlights," he said.
We laughed, the fat man going into a violent fit of coughing.
I asked the college man if he always said he would never go back when he got out. "No," he
(Continued to page 13)
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