Jail Tales: Memoirs Of A 'Lady' Prison Governor by Harry Duffin Chris Duffin

Author:Harry Duffin Chris Duffin [Chris Duffin, Harry Duffin]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Cumulus Publishing Limited
Published: 2012-03-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘Busman’s holiday’

In the early 1980’s San Quentin State Prison was a bleak sandstone castle squatting in a deprived area of the town. Real tumbleweed drifted past the car as we drove up to the gate. The car radio blared the theme from ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly,’ and from the distant mountains smoke signals gave news of our arrival. [No, I made the last two up, but you get the picture.]

My then husband and I were on a three week road trip across the States and the Home Office had arranged for me to visit the infamous jail. I also wanted to visit Disneyland, but my husband said ‘No.’

Having parked the car in the car park, we approached the gatehouse which was completely filled by an enormous black woman, a prison guard.

‘Don’t park yer vehicle there, buddy,’ she advised. ‘Won’t hev no wheels when you cem back.’

My husband re-parked the car at another gate around the side which was manned by a huge guard with a pump-action shotgun. He had planned to stay in the ‘vehicle’, but decided it might be safer inside with me.

Once inside, on the long walk to the prison itself, we passed an entire fire station inside the walls. Mainly used to quell race riots, we were told.

We were shown in to see the warden, the equivalent of the UK number One governor, who was seated with his leather cowboy boots up on his desk. When he rose he just went up and up and up. We felt like ‘limey’ hobbits.

We compared notes. At that time Strangeways had about eighteen hundred inmates, his had treble that. [Everything is bigger in America.] He was astounded when I told him there were no guns in our prisons [well, not among the staff anyway.]

‘How the Sam Hill do you control the prisoners?’ he asked.

‘We talk to them,’ I replied.

“Shit, my staff don’t have the brains to control themselves!’ [If he didn´t actually say that he implied it.]

His staff were divided into two distinct groups. The unarmed correctional officers who worked inside the prison and the guards on the gantries high up on the prison walls, armed with enough firepower to restart the Iraq War. [Thank you, George, for screwing the world up!]

The warden had trouble recruiting staff and, though he could do a local police check for applicants, the federal check took up to six months. So multiple murderers wanted in another state could walk the gantries armed to the teeth. The officer showing us around told us that the gantry guards had strict instructions in the case of a disturbance, or an attempted escape.

‘They hev to fire three shots. One in the air, one in the ground, and one at the prisoner.. But not necessarily in that order,’ he added with a grin.

Seeing my expression, he went on, ‘Hell, we’ve had guards killed and hung up round the walls in pieces. You can’t take no prisoners in here.’ [No irony intended.]

Black, Hispanic and White inmates were kept segregated.

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