News (Media Awareness Project) - US NY: Westchester Journal- Among the Comfortable, Prison Issues |
Title: | US NY: Westchester Journal- Among the Comfortable, Prison Issues |
Published On: | 2001-03-27 |
Source: | New York Times (NY) |
Fetched On: | 2008-01-26 20:18:57 |
WESTCHESTER JOURNAL: AMONG THE COMFORTABLE, PRISON ISSUES STIR UNEASE
EASTVIEW, N.Y., March 24 The setting, a sleek conference center in
Westchester County, seemed more likely to be the site of a sales meeting
than a gathering of groups advocating for society's forgotten two million
behind bars.
But when nearly 500 people showed up here today, it was a glimpse of the way
prison and sentencing issues are gaining a constituency among even the most
comfortable.
"The prison issue is no longer brown bags and sandals, meetings in church
basements," said Katherine L. Vockins, a conference organizer. "Legislators
will not listen unless we come across as solid."
Ms. Vockins, a marketing executive from Katonah, N.Y., became interested in
prison issues after her husband, Hans Hallundbaek, started teaching at the
Sing Sing Correctional Facility. She said she had been energized by what she
called society's shortsightedness in cutting college programs behind bars,
and discussed the issue with local lawmakers.
She said their response was: "We know the laws are wrong, but our
constituency wants to be tough on crime. So change the constituency."
No figures are available, but many Westchester churches have thriving
volunteer programs in local prisons.
"I was a `lock 'em up and throw away the key' person," said Nancy Steed, a
corporate trainer who belongs to the Rye Presbyterian Church. Then she went
to a New York Theological Seminary graduation at Sing Sing for inmates
receiving certificates of ministry. "I was blown away," she said, by the
inmates' intelligence and seeming sincerity.
In the capacity crowd here, Westchester volunteers - many, like Ms. Vockins
and Ms. Steed, with solid corporate roots - joined people with relatives
behind bars and about 50 former inmates.
"I came here to network," one woman said. At workshops and over lunch, the
hunger to make connections was palpable: "Where can I get money for this
project?" "What mental health resources exist?" "Here's a Web site." "Call
me."
Prisoners' rights is a hard sell, people here conceded. Even former
prisoners say there are often entirely rational reasons for people to fear
criminals who have committed violent offenses in the past.
"You have a right to your fears," said Christopher Bradford, 42, just two
weeks out of Sing Sing after serving 19 years for murder. "Let me earn a
right to a second chance."
Michelle Fine, a City University of New York professor, said there must be
"a society both safe and just" - a balance so out of whack that "we should
be ashamed of ourselves."
On Tuesday, many Westchester residents are expected to rally in Albany to
call for easing the state's strict Rockefeller-era drug laws. Others insist
drug laws should be tough.
"Drug dealing is a cancer," said Bridget G. Brennan, New York City's special
narcotics prosecutor. "The only way to deter that is to create a punishment
that's harsh enough."
Steven M. Fishner, Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani's criminal justice coordinator,
said that too often former inmates "have committed serious crimes while on
parole." He added, "The focal point should be protection of victims."
Among the ex-inmates at the conference, called "Can Anything Good Come Out
of Prison?," was Anthony Papa, whose painting talent helped win him clemency
on a drug conviction in 1997.
A recurrent issue was family ties.
"The next time you hear someone make a comment about a criminal," said Emani
Davis, 22, whose father has been in prison for homicide since she was 6,
"tell them they have families who love them." Her mother, Elizabeth Gaynes,
is executive director of the Osborne Association, a support group for former
prisoners and their families.
Theodore Haywood, convicted of homicide, asked those in the audience who had
"connected with me at some point" to stand. Then, on seeing perhaps 20
people get up, he said, "I'm standing on their shoulders."
Mrs. Steed's husband, Robert Steed, closed by saying it was not enough for
those at the conference to share their views with one another.
"We're preaching to the choir," he said, "but the choir has an obligation to
go out and sing."
EASTVIEW, N.Y., March 24 The setting, a sleek conference center in
Westchester County, seemed more likely to be the site of a sales meeting
than a gathering of groups advocating for society's forgotten two million
behind bars.
But when nearly 500 people showed up here today, it was a glimpse of the way
prison and sentencing issues are gaining a constituency among even the most
comfortable.
"The prison issue is no longer brown bags and sandals, meetings in church
basements," said Katherine L. Vockins, a conference organizer. "Legislators
will not listen unless we come across as solid."
Ms. Vockins, a marketing executive from Katonah, N.Y., became interested in
prison issues after her husband, Hans Hallundbaek, started teaching at the
Sing Sing Correctional Facility. She said she had been energized by what she
called society's shortsightedness in cutting college programs behind bars,
and discussed the issue with local lawmakers.
She said their response was: "We know the laws are wrong, but our
constituency wants to be tough on crime. So change the constituency."
No figures are available, but many Westchester churches have thriving
volunteer programs in local prisons.
"I was a `lock 'em up and throw away the key' person," said Nancy Steed, a
corporate trainer who belongs to the Rye Presbyterian Church. Then she went
to a New York Theological Seminary graduation at Sing Sing for inmates
receiving certificates of ministry. "I was blown away," she said, by the
inmates' intelligence and seeming sincerity.
In the capacity crowd here, Westchester volunteers - many, like Ms. Vockins
and Ms. Steed, with solid corporate roots - joined people with relatives
behind bars and about 50 former inmates.
"I came here to network," one woman said. At workshops and over lunch, the
hunger to make connections was palpable: "Where can I get money for this
project?" "What mental health resources exist?" "Here's a Web site." "Call
me."
Prisoners' rights is a hard sell, people here conceded. Even former
prisoners say there are often entirely rational reasons for people to fear
criminals who have committed violent offenses in the past.
"You have a right to your fears," said Christopher Bradford, 42, just two
weeks out of Sing Sing after serving 19 years for murder. "Let me earn a
right to a second chance."
Michelle Fine, a City University of New York professor, said there must be
"a society both safe and just" - a balance so out of whack that "we should
be ashamed of ourselves."
On Tuesday, many Westchester residents are expected to rally in Albany to
call for easing the state's strict Rockefeller-era drug laws. Others insist
drug laws should be tough.
"Drug dealing is a cancer," said Bridget G. Brennan, New York City's special
narcotics prosecutor. "The only way to deter that is to create a punishment
that's harsh enough."
Steven M. Fishner, Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani's criminal justice coordinator,
said that too often former inmates "have committed serious crimes while on
parole." He added, "The focal point should be protection of victims."
Among the ex-inmates at the conference, called "Can Anything Good Come Out
of Prison?," was Anthony Papa, whose painting talent helped win him clemency
on a drug conviction in 1997.
A recurrent issue was family ties.
"The next time you hear someone make a comment about a criminal," said Emani
Davis, 22, whose father has been in prison for homicide since she was 6,
"tell them they have families who love them." Her mother, Elizabeth Gaynes,
is executive director of the Osborne Association, a support group for former
prisoners and their families.
Theodore Haywood, convicted of homicide, asked those in the audience who had
"connected with me at some point" to stand. Then, on seeing perhaps 20
people get up, he said, "I'm standing on their shoulders."
Mrs. Steed's husband, Robert Steed, closed by saying it was not enough for
those at the conference to share their views with one another.
"We're preaching to the choir," he said, "but the choir has an obligation to
go out and sing."
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