I'm glad everyone enjoyed the first post from my dads journal that he wrote about his career as a deputy sheriff. I got a good response from it (like, 300+ views good), so I'm releasing the second part of that saga today. This is a relitevely short part of his journal, but after him and I sit down, I'm sure I'll have enough material for quite a few more posts. Don't forget to leave comments if you have a question about jail life you want answered. Enjoy!
At the Penitentiary, you had Deputies and Correction Officers working side by side. Correction Officers watched inmates that were already sentenced for their crimes; Deputies watched unsentenced inmates. The majoirt of the times that the two worked together was on the Young Mens Block.
Earlier in my career, it was suggested that I get an alarm watch. This came in handy on the midnight shift. You could set it in case you fell asleep or you wanted to catch a nap inbetween rounds. One officer, however, chose to bring an alarm clock to work. So when he woke up, so did everyone else... including the inmates.
At the Pen, the cell blocks were quite large. 52 cells per block- 26 on each side. There was an enclosed area between them called a pipe chase. The pipe chase at the Pen was a lot larger than at the main jail; it was like a rest haven for Duputies. Some guys had TVs or radios- this was only in linear jails (older jails with bars). You could also listen to inmates' conversations (behind their cells).
One night, I brought in a fake rat with a real long piece of string attached to it (150 feet or so). I gave the inmates time to quite down. I took the rat out of the back door of the pipe chase and waited a bit longer. When I made my rounds, I got around the back, grabbed the string, and let it out until it was taut. Then the rat started moving up the cellblock along the Deputies' walkway, which of course was seperate from the inmate common area. It got about half-way down when an inmate yelled out, "Look at the SIZE of that friggin rat!" (I cleaned that up a bit...).
Those were the good old days. Back in those days, they kept all the gay inmates on the same block- imagine that happening in todays politically correct society...
Anyway, if you worked days or afternoons, the crims would be out of their cells a lot. They would be doing each others hair and singing weird songs like "She's A Stranger to Me," "I Like the Way He Walks," or "Back Door Man." A fellow officer was working that block quite often and he told me a story. One night, he was making rounds and caught two of the inmates having sex. He told them to cease and desist and one inmate said I'm just checking his oil with my dipstick.
Back Home
After New Years of 1985, I went back to the main holding center, moslty because it was close to home and I had some seniority built up by then. I stayed on the midnight shift for another five years. During that time, I met quite a few sleezeballs. A criminal they called the 22 Cal. killer was one of them. I also had an inmate in a solitary unit (called the Tiger Cage) that sexually assaulted a ministers daughter. The minister actually attacked the inmate in court on one occasion; it was shown on television. (I'll look for a link to the story, guys. No luck so far- not sure if there even is one...)
Inmates complained no matter where you worked. One inmate complained about the bugs in his cell. I told him No pets in jail- they don't eat much anyway. He kept complaining, so I told him to send them in the mail to someone. He sent them to a Federal Judge. The jail was fumigated within a week.
One thing I miss about work was all the jokes I heard. The black inmates would tell me the Puerto Rican jokes, the Puerto Ricans would tell me the black jokes, and the white criminals would tell me all the others. Here's a few examples:
How come blacks and Puerto Ricans do not intermarry? They're afraid their kids would be to lazy to steal.
How come Puerto Ricans have such difficulty signing their name? It's hard to write with a can of spray paint.
How does a Polish guy count to 11? He opens his zipper.
Why wasn't the President of the United States ever circumsized? There's no end to that prick.
Ahh- what memories!
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