Prisoners At The Presses

A prison is a tough place to work.

At all times you're surrounded by some of the meanest, most violent men on earth, in an environment where fights are always looming, and riots are always a possibility; where X-Acto knives can prove lethal, and chemicals can be turned into bombs.

And there you stand, trying to run a print shop.

It's not all bad, though, quips Bill Jinright, plant supervisor at Alabama Correctional Industries, in Mt. Meigs.

"We've got an advantage here because you know that the 'bad guys' are all in white," he remarks.

In truth, though, danger is not the toughest part of the job, according to managers of prison in-plants. Much tougher, they say, is the task of trying to be productive when their best workers are continually transferred and their equipment hasn't been new since Johnson was in the White House.

And if they try to add new, automated equipment to increase efficiency, they risk reducing their work force, which runs counter to their goal of keeping inmates busy.

Prison Labor: Helpful Or Unfair?

Putting inmates to work is nothing new. Long before chain gangs, convict labor was being used for both government and private sector work. Union outcries in the early 20th century brought about laws restricting prison labor, but those restrictions have eased and prison industries now flourish. Though opponents decry inmate employment as slave labor that steals jobs, its supporters point to its positives, such as teaching a work ethic and job skills to people who lack them. This helps keep them from returning to prison, proponents say.

A federal Post-Release Employment Project study backs this up, stating that those who worked in prison were 24 percent more likely to get a full-time job and 50 percent less likely to end up back in prison than those who had not worked in prison. Just 6.6 percent of those who worked in prison had their parole revoked or were arrested during their first year of release, compared to 10.1 percent of the group who had not worked in prison.

The goal of prison industries programs, according to Dan Ferrise, CEO of Minncor, in St. Paul, Minn., is threefold. Most importantly, he says, such programs reduce inmate idle time.

"The idea is to get them out of their cell," he says. The more time they spend in their cell, he adds, the more time they have to plan trouble.

The second objective is to teach inmates a work ethic, since many have never held jobs. If they learn a trade in the process, Ferrise says, that's a bonus.

Thirdly, he says, prison industries programs provide services for prisons and other government agencies, keeping tax dollars within the government.

Teaching A Trade

By and large, prison print operations agree with this assessment, though many feel job training is their primary purpose. In Green Bay, Wis., Darryl Ruprecht runs a graphic arts program at Green Bay Correctional Institution for about 15 inmates.

"We use the printing needs of the institution as training material," he says.

His classroom is adjacent to the print shop, so while some inmates are getting instruction, others are printing. He uses a mentor system, where experienced inmates teach the newcomers. After 24 years at the prison, Ruprecht is proud of the impact he's had.

"I'll never forget the first time I saw a 24-year-old man jumping up and down yelling 'I did it! I did it!' " Ruprecht says. "And then I realized it's the first time in his life he did something constructive and succeeded at it."

Many prison in-plant managers share such pride in their work.

"It's quite enjoyable," says Jinright, of Alabama Correctional Industries. "You give them a whole new trade to go back to the street with."

He and other managers say they've heard of several ex-inmates who have gotten printing jobs upon release.

"I've actually helped quite a few of them get jobs," he affirms.

At times this can be a bittersweet triumph, though, points out John Walstrom, an instructor with Iowa State Penitentiary, in Ft. Madison.

"We've had a couple of them that have been busted for counterfeiting—so they're learning something," he says, wryly. Most of those who get printing jobs play by the rules, though, Walstrom adds.

No Work Experience

Though teaching inmates a trade is a noble goal, it isn't easy, managers say.

"Not only are you having to teach him how to print, you're also having to teach him good work habits," notes Jinright. "I've always wondered what it would be like to manage a plant where you walked in and 90 percent of your employees were journeymen people that knew their job. I just can't even imagine that luxury."

Still, many inmates become quite proficient at the trade, managers boast. Of course, this leads to another difficulty.

"It's not like you train an employee and you have him, because once an inmate has progressed to wanting to better himself, then he starts behaving himself," explains Ruprecht, of Green Bay Correctional. "Those are the ones they look at for transferring."

Inmates can be transferred with no warning to the shop manager. And then all the manager can do is start training someone new.

"Can you imagine if you had a shop and you were constantly training your employees?" asks Ruprecht.

In his Alabama slammer, Jinright plans ahead for transfers by keeping 90 inmates in his shop.

"I could actually run this plant with probably 65 employees, but I keep everybody in a training situation," he says, with inmates continually training one another. And with inmate pay at just 25 cents an hour, he can afford to be overstaffed.

The Finer Points

As every printer knows, though, there's more to printing than knowing how to run a press. How can you instill the importance of quality in men with no appreciation of it? It takes some time, managers say, but inmates catch on.

"It all has to do with a person's self image," explains Ruprecht. Having a job gives them a sense of purpose, making them feel better about themselves. They care more about appearances, both their own and that of their work.

Ferrise, of Minncor, says inmates take it personally if they can't meet customer expectations.

"The inmates are very involved in making sure we meet our deadlines," he says.

Of course, all would agree that prison in-plants have one mission that's even more critical than training.

"More importantly than anything we produce is to make sure nobody goes over that fence or out the door," says Bernie Cumberland, production manager with the Maryland State Use Industries graphics division, which comprises four printing plants and one screen printing operation. Managers must be on guard at all times.

Robert Leon, director of printing for Correction Enterprises in Raleigh, N.C., says he's heard of industrious inmates using print shop facilities to copy paperwork showing parole approval and cutting out negatives of guns in the darkroom to glue onto carved wooden guns.

These are exceptions, though, Leon says. In his eight years with the prison, he has never encountered a dangerous situation in either of his print plants. Altogether, Leon's operations employ 155 inmates and 33 staff, making his the largest prison in-plant in the country. It ranked 13 on last year's IPG Top 50. (Read a profile)

Most managers agree with Leon and report surprisingly few discipline problems. They say having a job is a privilege for an inmate, so inmates tend to behave well. Not only do jobs provide income, they give inmates a purpose amidst the monotony of prison life.

"These are very sought-after positions," affirms Ferrise, of Minncor.

Consequently, fights are rare, and the inmates police each other. Managers say they treat inmates with respect and expect the same in return.

Ruprecht, of Green Bay Correctional, sets strict rules in his shop, including no vulgarity, and he says inmates comply.

"I have a very high sense of pride in my capabilities and myself, and I expect them to represent me as such," he says. It works, he insists. They respect him.

Dangerous Liaisons

Still, unlike in the outside world, when tempers flare in prison, they're likely to flare all at once.

"They live with each other 24/7, so if supper wasn't good or an officer upsets them, usually you're looking at a large percentage of your crew being upset about the same thing at the same time," points out Jinright. "And that can cause a lot of problems."

Still, managers say, you can't dwell on the dangers.

"You can get hurt any place you work," notes Ruprecht.

Prison in-plants must be careful with tools and chemicals. Each tool must be signed in and out, and if one is missing no one leaves until it's found.

Random shakedowns mean shutdowns for prison shops, as guards turn them inside out looking for contraband. Lockdowns also mean a halt to production, and managers are left scrambling to do the work themselves or outsource it. But they take it all in stride.

"You have to understand where you're at and what the rules are," observes Walstrom, of Iowa State Penitentiary.

Certain traditional procedures are more difficult in a prison environment.

"Customers obviously don't want to come in here and perform a press check," notes Cumberland, of Maryland State Use Industries.

Though turnaround time may be a little longer as a result, Cumberland says keeping customers happy is his main goal.

"We're very strict on quality," he says.

Also, job delivery and customer service are a little more difficult. North Carolina Correction Enterprises employs civilian staff to deliver jobs and to visit customers and drum up business.

"We're very customer service oriented, so we're able to keep our customer base," says Leon.

Most prison in-plants, though don't have that luxury.

Outdated Equipment

One of the biggest hardships about running a prison in-plant is working with very old equipment. Upgrading is not easy. Most shops rely on donations.

The sophistication of the equipment is not important, though, say some in-plants.

"A press is a press," maintains Ruprecht. "If you can run a press you can run any of them."

More important than learning specific skills, some say, is learning how to function in a production environment.

"You've got to treat them the same way they would be treated on the outside," stresses Jinright, who has been with Alabama Correctional Industries for nine years and has worked in printing since he was 16.

At Iowa State Penitentiary, Walstrom, who has 16 inmates in his program, emphasizes skills more than speed. His shop runs its presses at nearly their slowest speeds.

"We try to teach them the skills first, and the speed will come second," he says. "People are going nowhere anyway, so what's their hurry?"

That's fine if teaching is the only consideration. But many shops need to make money.

"We, in Maryland, are self-supporting," explains Cumberland. "We are mandated to maintain a profit, so we operate like a business."

From its profits, his operation has been able to add equipment, such as a four-color sheetfed press, a saddle stitcher and Macintosh computers. Cumberland is also looking into acquiring a four-up imagesetter.

At the same time as he is upgrading his operation, he sees the irony of his situation.

"We're supposed to be labor intense," he notes. Yet the new gear requires fewer operators. Still, he says, his operation has never downsized.

"We always find duties" for displaced workers, he says.

Staying Up To Date

Using old, labor-intensive equipment is not the policy of every prison print shop. In Imperial, Calif., near the Mexico border, the Centinela Desert Institute strives to stay on the cutting edge.

"To have a chance at being employable...they need to be able to go out there with skills that let them compete with anyone else that's coming out of a trade school today," explains David Baker, a graphic arts instructor with the program, run out of the California State Prison. "We really have to do everything we can to try to give them a head-to-head opportunity to know current software, current procedures, current equipment."

As part of this goal, the shop added an A.B.Dick Digital PlateMaster 2340 and a ScanMaster digital scanning system in March. The operation maintains 11 Macintosh G3s with the latest design software, and Baker says a new two-color press may be added.

"We want to offer the highest level of training that we can," he says.

Minncor tells the same story.

"Part of our apprenticeship program is to make sure inmates...have access to some newer technology," Ferrise says.

With this in mind, Minncor recently added a press and computer-to-plate capabilities.

In North Carolina, Correction Enterprises keeps its high-speed duplicating operation stocked with 10 networked digital printers, giving inmates access to that technology. Leon, however, says the gear is there not so much to give inmates digital skills as to print quick-turnaround work, such as bills for the general assembly.

Interestingly, his duplicating operation, which employs 45 inmates and 16 staff, is about to move to a new and larger location—in a women's prison. Leon says this may be the first prison print shop employing female inmates.

"We're anxious to see how it's going to work," he says.

Computer Concerns

At the same time prison shops are upgrading, they have to be careful with computers, since inmates are not allowed access to the Internet. This makes it difficult for in-plants to receive jobs as e-mail attachments.

In Leon's operation, the free staff downloads files from secure offices and puts them on a local server so inmates can access them. Inmates are allowed to use computers for graphic design and billing work, he says.

No matter what equipment they're working on, though, managers say inmate workers, despite their criminal backgrounds, are excellent employees.

"Most of my men I can say I'm pretty proud of," remarks Ruprecht. "I teach them that if you're doing something constructive and succeeding at it, what's the difference if your world is between these walls or the city of Green Bay? A lot of people on the streets don't do jobs where they get a feeling of accomplishment and self satisfaction."