CHILDREN SEEK BOND WITH INMATE MOMS

DWIGHT, Ill. -- Barging into a baby-blue cinder block room at Dwight
Correctional Center, five youngsters scramble for empty chairs and
immediately begin to fidget and compete for their mom's attention.

"I'm getting B's and A's in school, Momma," bellows 5th grader Damien.
"And I'm taking Spanish. Uno, dos, tres, quatro, cinco."

The children, ages 6 to 11, bombard Shelonda Taggett with stories
about what's happened since they saw her a month ago.

Their visit was made possible by Des Plaines-based Lutheran Social
Services of Illinois, which enlisted a volunteer to help the children
maintain a bond with Taggett, 36, who's serving 3 years for drug possession.

"You can't overstate the importance of a child having ongoing contact
with their parent," said Gail T. Smith, executive director of Chicago
Legal Aid to Incarcerated Mothers.

Lutheran Social Services hopes to expand the program it's operated
since 1988, but the idea of such visits is under attack by some state
legislators. They are proposing limits on visits to all
maximum-security inmates as a way to curtail smuggled weapons and
drugs and to send a get-tough message that such privileges must be
earned.

A bill under consideration in Springfield also would force those
visiting all prisoners serving their first 90 days to be separated
from the prisoners by security glass.

"Both the men's and women's facilities are a complete disaster. Our
whole goal is to bring order back to the Illinois Department of
Corrections," said Rep. Thomas L. Johnson (R-West Chicago),
co-chairman of a House committee studying prison reforms. "These
places are not there for people to be comfortable in."

The General Assembly is not likely to take up the bill until later
this month, and by then, lawmakers said, the visit-restriction portion
may be lifted for women. The thinking, based on three years of
research, is that male inmates are a greater security risk and fewer
children count on their fathers as the only parent, he said.

Advocates for incarcerated women are rallying against the proposed
legislation at 4 p.m. Friday at the James R. Thompson Center in
Chicago. They see the reform bill as punishing children as well as
prisoners.

But as long as children can visit their mothers in prison, Mary
Anderson, 62, of Barrington will deliver them. About twice a month,
she drives to Chicago and picks up the youngsters she has been assigned.

"My job is to bring a little happiness for a day," she
said.

About 10 miles from Dwight, Anderson pulls off at a rest stop to give
the antsy children a chance to stretch and sometimes eat. She had
packed a dozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Taggett's children.

At the prison, each child is patted down and marched through three
sets of electronically controlled doors before winding up in a large
room that resembles a high school cafeteria with vending machines and
a pay photo booth.

Inmates and their visitors chat, play cards or munch on snacks, all
under the watchful eye of guards. In an adjoining gym, youngsters can
shoot hoops or play with a small collection of cars, puzzles and other
toys.

Taggett's four sons and daughter take turns hugging and kissing her.
As she plays catch-up on their lives, she does not hesitate to scold
them for naughty language or behavior.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" asked Taggett of 6-year-old
Ben after he called another child a name.

After a couple of hours, the boys run to the gym, leaving Taggett and
her daughter, Sharon, to hold hands and speak softly to one another.

That type of contact could be prohibited under the proposed
legislation and such a ban would be particularly harmful for the
children of new inmates, said Joanne Archibald, an advocate with
Chicago Legal Aid to Incarcerated Mothers. They need time to adjust to
the fact that their mothers are away.

"For small kids, that's like torture, especially those who are
non-verbal. They communicate through touch," Archibald said. Plus,
studies show kids who have contact visits fare better emotionally and
perform better in school, she added.

Archibald, 50, knows because she served time in prison in California
for attempted drug smuggling. Her son was only 7 months old. She saw
him frequently, but now, at age 14, he still requires therapy to
address problems from that separation, problems she said would be
worse had he not visited her.

The reform panel may end up agreeing with Archibald about visits for
women inmates, because, of the 2,650 in state prisons, 80 percent are
single mothers. Banning contact visits would mean cutting off that
affection for those children with the only parent they have.

As proposed, visits would be restricted for only the 126 women
classified at maximum security in the state, all of whom are at Dwight.

The effects of restricting visits needs more study, said Rep. Thomas
Dart (D-Chicago), who co-chairs the group with Johnson. The panel has
analyzed such a ban on male inmates and concluded it would reinforce
the message that there is a penalty for breaking the law and would
help stop the smuggling of contraband.

Johnson, Dart and the committee began reworking prison laws about
three years ago after the public viewed the infamous Richard Speck
video tapes that showed the now-deceased killer of eight nursing
students having sex and apparently using illegal drugs while in prison.

Taggett hopes to continue seeing her children until she is released,
probably around Thanksgiving. And they want the same.

"I always feel better after coming down here," said Sharon, 9. "God
bless my momma's heart."

This story is a composite of versions published in the various
zones.