Date: Fri, 30 Aug 2013 02:26:14 -0400
From: d.a. w <daw62@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Roommat Chapter 5: Into Prison in Person

Please remember NIFTY as you are reading this story and all the stories
available to you in this great site.  It is available only if we all
contribute.

The Roommate   Chapter 5  Lunch and Learning and then to Prison

Since our appointment for a tour of the Hampden Correctional Center was
scheduled for the afternoon, and we were not to arrive before 1:30 because the
entire facility would be on lockdown for the noon count.   Father had explained to
me that a count of all inmates occurred three times a day, right before breakfast,
right at noon, and then finally right before the dinner.
Therefore I gave Beau directions to one of my favorite restaurants in the whole
area – Tony's Grinders.   When I told Beau we were going to have grinders for
lunch he really gave me a look: however he dutifully navigated through the back
street to the almost famous eatery in Springfield.   My family loved to come here
and sometimes eat in to enjoy both the food and the atmosphere, and sometimes I
would drive over to take-out for home.
When we arrived the parking lot was pretty full as this was lunch and the early
risers for the after Thanksgiving sales were re-fueling themselves for the second
assault on the stores for Christmas shopping.   Beau moved around the parking lot
a couple of time to find a spot for his large BMW.
Beau looked at me.  "Well I have no idea what a grinder is, but most of the town seems
to think it's worth it to fight to find a place to park, and probably a long wait for
a table."
"Well I am sure that it will be crowded, but there are some hidden places only we
local super fans of Tony know.   Besides all that Dad is an investor in Tony's and
so we always can find a place.   Sometimes I have eaten in the back where Tony
and his family take their breaks."
"Tony makes all his family work here?   That almost sounds like child or slave
labor to this ole boy from the South."
"No Beau, it's just the Italian way.  This might be named Tony's, but it really is
owned and operated by the whole family.   Also, since I had known them, at least
three of them have gone off to college and really excelled.   The oldest daughter is
a lawyer from U Mass, and the oldest son went to Yale and majored in business ."
I lead Beau around from the front door which had a line all the way outside the
door, back to the rear door.   I opened the door, and there was the kitchen which
was filled with Tony's family all working to assemble grinders for all the orders
coming in.  We went past all those working family members to a break room
behind all the kitchen activity.   I saw Tony and waved at him, and then headed
into the break room for the workers (and family which was almost totally the same
people).   We sat down at the table.
About that time what I had preordered had arrived, and in front of each of us was
six inches of the Tony's supreme.   On beautiful fresh... and even warm... French
bread was a masterpiece of meatballs, and other Italian meats, along with spinach
and other greens, and also with an array of condiments like mustard and mayo, but
all with Dino's unique additions.  Even Beau looked at the six inches monster in
front of him and paused.
I did not need to make an initial time of admiration for
the multiple colors, and textures, and when you took a bite of the sandwich, our
mouth and taste buds were stimulated in such an amazing variety of ways that each
bite was a taste sensation.
"You guys want a beer with that?"  Frank asked us.  He was another of Tony's
sons who also must be home for Thanksgiving break because I knew he was
attending Dartmouth College.  Both of our faces were stuffed with food, and so we
both nodded.   Soon Frank returned with two cold beers.
For the first few minutes we just stuffed our faces with the great taste feast of the
supreme. After the first few bits, we both seemed to realize that we really did not
need to try to establish a grinder speed eating championship, and so there was a pause.
"You know Franklin"  Beau drawled in an exaggerated manner, "I do thank you
for arranging that trip, and I am anxious to have my impressions of the next prison
to use as a confirmation of what I saw at Enfield, but I do believe you'all in the
North are much more cruel to your miscreants than we good'ole  boys in the
South."
I was shocked at this statement.   I had actually expected him to admit that seeing
these inmates allowed visits with family and friends, having meals brought to them
or allowed to go to a large cafeteria and receive healthy food, and otherwise not be
forced to any "slave" labor would have impressed Beau with the North's superior
moral response to lawbreakers.
"Really Beau?  I must admit that I am surprised.   You saw how these inmates are
well treated,  They are safe from other inmates, and allowed time to watch tv and
many are allowed to do jobs around the prison, and also of course, these inmates
are not separated from families, as you have explained that family members have
no way of knowing to whom the family member who had run afoul of the law was
`leased' to (read sold to).   They receive food, shelter, and are allowed some
freedom of movement.   How is all that not vastly superior to being `leased' to
some plantation, put into chains, and worked naked all day?"
"Well, Frank, let me be Frank."  ( I hated when Beau felt the need to make the
egregious pun on my name.)   "The lawbreakers down in my decrepit old South
may indeed have these disadvantages, but I am not too sure many of them came
from loving functional families.   My guess if we were allowed to question those
poor slobs in Enfield we would find a lot of them did not have any much family
supporting them.   A visit once or twice a year is not a lot of contact, and you did
see a VERY large number of inmates who were not receiving visitation.
ALSO, look at how they are not allowed to form friendships and help each other
out sexually.  You and I both know that a young male has a lot of sexual energy.
Down in our misbegotten South, when the slave coffles go back to their pens, they
are allowed to form close and even intimate friendships in the pen.  And we also do
not lock slaves in individual little closets, with no stimulation and just cement
block and steel for companionship.  You know humans are communal
animals...we want and need to interact with others of our species, and it is to me
extraordinarily cruel to lock up a human in a little cell, with no or almost no
contact with other humans in any real way, and then expect that cruelty to result in
anything but a seriously emotionally and mentally scared human."
I was so shocked that I stopped eating.   I looked at Beau in amazement.  I had
never ever considered any of his observations.   Some of them seemed to make too
much sense, and I needed to think through his observations.   As I sat there so
shocked I had even stopped eating my grinder, I remembered that much of the rest
of the world did consider the prison and sentencing of the old United States, and
now the "free" North, to be pretty uncivilized.
"Well you did not see any whips and long exploitation of any of the inmates
either." was my best shot as a rebuttal.
"Well I have now seen one example of your prisons, and it did not change my
mind that our prisoners leased out to owners, who are responsible to the state for
the welfare of the indentured workers,  really give the offender a better and more
satisfactory life than the depressing  place we were just in."
"Well, let's just finish lunch here and we'll discuss this again after we see
Hampden."
After this lame response, fortunately Beau allowed me to change the subject to
how great a grinder was, and how much the name did not meet the actual object.
Tony arrived about this time. "Franklin how are you?  It is nice to see you again.  I
heard you brought your roommate from college here for Thanksgiving."
Looking at Beau, Tony extended his hand and they shook hands as Tony
continued, "You are very welcome here.  How did you like our super supreme
grinder?"
Beau now really shone in his Southern charm.   "Sir I would have to admit that this
masterpiece of a sandwich is something which I have never encountered before,
and which I will remember for a very long time.  I can tell you that there is no such
a place like yours anywhere I know in the south."
Tony did react very favorably to Beau's compliment.
"Thank you sir.  Our family is dedicated to excellence, and we believe that
excellence in making the best grinders in the region is a worthy goal for a family.
We are also grateful that when a couple of persons in a bank wanted to use some
money games which I did not understand to steal this place from us that Franklin's
father interceded and soon the bankers who made this sleazy move found that they
were the ones our in the cold – almost literally as I remember it was January when
they sprang the trap on me."
"You know that Father thinks the world of you and your family Beau, and was not
about to allow such abominable and unethical persons to succeed."
Tony nodded.   I decided to try to lighten things up.  "Besides," I solemnly intoned,
neither of those two slime could produce any grinder... and probably anything
else that would be fit to eat.   All the people in the entire Springfield area would
end up hungry and mean."
Tony smiled and gave me a little bow.   "Well speaking of getting food out to
customers, I need to get back to work.   Nice to meet you Mr. Masterson, and I
hope we will be able to serve you again if you come home another time with
Franklin when it would be impractical to go all the way back to Tennessee."
"Thank you Mr. ..." here Beau paused as he did not know Tony's last name, and
do I said to him quietly,  "Broggini"        "Mr. Broggine." Beau finished with a
broad smile and a firm handshake.
I noted again that Beau was indeed the model of Southern excellence in manners.
We spent some additional time just finishing our grinders, and then both made a
trip to the rest room.   We declined a second beer as I did NOT want Dad to hear
that we had been denied entrance into Hampden because we smelled of alcohol.
I went to the front and bought us both some breath mints, and returned to Beau and
suggested we try to seriously mask any telltale vestige of your beers.
"I believe your suggestion is both timely and sagacious." Beau intoned solemnly.
We also took the precaution of each buying and consuming a bottle of water from a
convenience store on our way to Hampden.
When we got to the parking lot of Hampden Correctional Center, we were still a
bit early for our tour, and so sat in Beau's BMW.
Beau looked at the facility.   It was a fairly new facility, and therefore it was
constructed of a series on individual units enclosed in a triple fence, with five
guard towers.  There was one on each corner and an extra one at the opposite side
from where we were in the public parking lot.
There did not seem to be as many extra cars in the lot here at Hampden than had
been at Enfield.  Our parking lot had a sidewalk which led to the building which
formed the connection between the two worlds of inside and outside.  I noted that
the triple fences went over the top of the portal building.
"This facility is fairly new," I informed Beau.   There are about 2,000 inmates.
These men had been convicted to more serious crimes, and hence was a designed a
level 3 and 4 facility whereas Enfield had been almost entirely category 1 and 2
inmates with only the one block of level 3 inmates.  Inmates here were from
around the state, although the stated reason for its construction was a concerted
effort of the legislators to react to all the families who had complained that persons
sentenced and a state facility, and were determined to be a level 3 or 4 offender had
previously been sent to penile facilities which were clustered around the Boston
area.  I told Beau that my Father did say that most offenders from the western part
of the state who were classified as level 3 or 4 were indeed sent to Hampden, but
some were also deliberately sent to facilities around Boston to try to cut some of
their ties to their gangs.
My Dad had worked to get this facility built.  As he pointed out not only did the
construction of this facility help alleviate the complaint about traveling to Boston,
but he had helped to gain construction money for the area, and then some less
highly skilled jobs for the citizens of western Massachusetts who were seeing their
manufacturing jobs disappear to China.
After all this conversation in the car, we got out and began our trip into the
visitor's center.   When we walked in I was a bit surprised that there was no mass
of visitors in the waiting room waiting to be allowed into the facility.   We went to
the desk, and I gave my name and Beau gave his as "Beauregard J.T. Masterson."
I went with just Franklin Wilkinson.
 Once again, we had to store our watches, and other items from our pockets in
lockers which cost a quarter.   The officer did point out that we would receive our
quarter back when we left.  I could see Beau was about to make some smart aleck
remark about this statement, but I flashed a warning look,  and he kept silent.
Actually for neither of us was a quarter of any concern at all, but I realized that for
some families of inmates even a quarter might be important.   Then with no
watches, and no billfolds, and no keys, we were called individually to walk
through the metal detection gate. I was called first, and when I was through the
metal detector, and was met there by a corrections officer (co) who opened the
door to a large closet sized room.
I noted that the corrections officer clearly was of a higher rank than just a guard.
His uniform was not like those of the other corrections officers both here who had
greeted us at the desk and supervised us through the metal detector, or even the
uniforms of the officers at Enfield.  The Lieutenant's uniform was similar, but
different in that it was not wrinkled, but Marine Corps pressed and precisely
aligned.  His shirt, which for some reason I believed I should call it his blouse
because of its perfection had his name badge precisely aligned with the left pocket
and even his shoes were very different.  The other co's both here and at Enfield
wore black thick-soled shoes that were a dull black and laced up over their ankles.
The Lieutenant's shoes were like dress shoes and shone with a mirror like shine.
The Lieutenant's clothing seemed to say that he was proud both of his rank and
also his position.  The Lieutenant's clothing revealed a man who was proud,
precise, and definitely in command.  His bearing and appearance made it
impossible to address him only as "SIR" or perhaps even "Lieutenant SIR."
Once I was inside he directed me to a wooden bench which was firmly bolted to
the back wall.
"SIR, I am Lt. Hughes and regulations require all civilians entering this facility,
especially any visitor who might come into contact with one or more offenders
must go through this clothing and body search. If you were just going to the visitors
room you would receive and very thorough pat down search, but as you are going into
the actual prisoner cell blocks you must undergo a complete strip search.
As you can see this search is conducted in this private area, and myself and any officer
conducting this search will act professionally.  Mr. Wilkinson, we contacted your father
who, as you know, is the chair of the citizen's advisory board for this institution.
He requested that you both were to be treated no less and no more than any other visitor
to this facility who would have this much access to high security areas and offenders in
this facility.
Did your father inform you that you would be subject to a body search?"
"No."  was my almost shocked reply.  Why had my Father not prepared Beau and
myself for this step in our visit?   The answer came to me immediately.  My father
wanted us to have an authentic visit, and this search was part of that authenticity.
Since my shoes were still in the bin that had gone through the scanner, and my
watch and other metal was locked in the locker, about the only items left to search
were my slacks, shirt, boxers, and me.
"Sir,   please remove your shirt and hand it to me."
I said nothing, but removed my shirt and handed it to Lt. Hughes.   Lt. Hughes then
looked over and felt the shirt to be sure that nothing was hidden in the shirt or its
hems.  All were carefully felt and tested by him.
Lt. Hughes then placed my shirt on the floor behind him.  Please remove your
slacks and socks now. I removed these items and now stood before the Lieutenant
in my boxers, which I am embarrassed to say were a pair of Joe Boxer boxers, and
were red silk with black ants printed all over them, and a caption on the front
which read "Ants in my pants."  I had at the last minute decided not to wear the tight
briefs that I had first intended to wear and insead to enjoy these soft silklike
boxers.  I mentally made a vow that Dad's Christmas present had to be something that
he would be embarrassed to open in the big family Christmas present reveal, in which
by tradition every member of the family individually unwrapped a present, showed it to
all the family, admired it, and thanked the person who had given it.
I believe that I did indeed detect a smile... or perhaps smirk would be a better
term... on the Lieutenant's face as he looked to me when I handed over my
slacks.   These also were examined and checked for any item that might be
concealed in the linings or construction of the pant.
After his inspection of my slacks, I stood there in my "Ants in my pants" boxers
and, as I detected what might be called a panic sweat wondered if these also would
be examined off of me.
Lt. Hughes looked at me.  "Well here is where you have a decision to be made
since your Father did not tell you earlier.  If you want to have the tour of the
facility that your Father said that you wanted – not to just look into a cell block
from the outside but to be inside the blocks and to really get a sense of what it is
like to be incarcerated inside this high category facility.  If that is what you really
want then I must complete the strip search, and you will need to drop the boxers,
and I will put on my gloves and do a cavity search, and you will be expected to
move your genitals around so that I can inspect all around them.   You need to
realize that the strip search was not begun in these institutions because we like
sticking our fingers up a man's ass, or probing around a man's scrotum, and his
perineum, but we have to do this type of search because visitors who want to
smuggle drugs and even cell phones inside know that we do not like to do this, and
therefore it is where they hide the contraband.