Archives for September 2019

In Remembrance

September 11, 2019 by San Quentin News Staff

Brothers George Grifall and Chris Koppe

More than 60 men of all nationalities, races and origins gathered in San Quentin’s Catholic Chapel to celebrate the lives of George Grifall and Chris Koppe. The two well-known incarcerated men passed away in San Quentin in the month of June.

“I love you, brother,” was the catchphrase for Grifall. Koppe was lovingly known as Colonel Sanders or Colonel Crispy.

After the evening meal on July 18, prisoners mingled and listened to the blues, led by the smooth drumming of Darryl Moody Schilling. As the chapel began filling up, Schilling picked up the pace with a livelier beat.

“He told me he loved me, and then I climbed in my rack,” recalled Michael “Doc” Dickman, his cellie, about the night Grifall passed away. “George told me not to wake him for the Saturday breakfast — he hates CDCR pancakes, plus we had plenty of food.”

Grifall had a “bad habit” of hanging his hand over the ledge of the bed, Dickman explained. He said that the following morning he kept bump- ing into Grifall’s hand and after a couple times, Dickman yelled for Grifall to move his hand, but he didn’t respond. Dickman became concerned.

“When I felt his hand, it was ice cold,” Dickman said. “He died in his sleep. Don’t believe the rumors out there.”

Walter Sprakea talked about meeting Grifall while incarcerated at Corcoran in 1999.

“I thought then, he was too friendly,” Walter said. “Back then, prison was harder to do time in, and you’d see him and say, ‘what’s wrong with that guy?’ He was always respectful and of course, would say, ‘I love you, brother.’”

Larry Ryzak added, “George was my friend. He was one the most loyal people I ever knew. I could still hear him, ‘I love you, brother.’ He never changed. He had good morals. He wasn’t perfect, but nobody is or we wouldn’t be standing here.”

Anthony Thomas read a poem that he wrote in honor of Grifall.

Richie Morris said that he didn’t know George well, but “his absence leaves a hole in my life. I always saw him be- ing kind.

“Now, Colonel Crispy looked like Colonel Sanders,” Morris continued. “We spend our time with people passing by us and never notice who they are. We got an opportunity here to record we stand among giants. I want you to recognize that.”

SQNews Staffer, Aaron Taylor talked about guitar lessons he got from Koppe.

“One day I see this dude in the rotunda playing the blues, who looked like Colonel Sanders bending the strings,” Taylor said. “Chris told me that he’d teach me how to play rhythm guitar,” However, Taylor said that he was slow picking up the lessons. “Chris told me he wouldn’t play with me because he said he never met a Black man who didn’t have rhythm.”

The incident, Taylor said, invigorated his willingness to learn guitar, and he practiced until Koppe later agreed to play lead guitar with him at an open mic.

In between men taking the stage to talk about their friends, Quentin Blues entertained the audience: (Dwight Krizman (Bass), Richie Morris (Guitar and Vocals), Chris Thomas (Mandolin & Vo- cals), Mark Kinney (Piano), Joe Thurson Percussion); An- drew “Boots” Hardy (Guitar and Vocal).

A recording of “Now I Can Rise”, with Koppe on lead guitar was also played.

Brian Holliday talked about his relationship with Grifall.

“Every time he saw me, he’d stop and say, ‘What’s up?’ You don’t see that in people too much,” Holliday said. “I really miss him.”

Quentin Blues closed the memorial with two songs for Koppe: “Full Tilt Boogie” and “Upward as I Fall”.

For Grifall, Quentin Blues played “Feet Don’t Fail Me Now”. Then “Boots” per- formed a song he had writ- ten the previous morning and dedicated to George.

“I dropped my pick inside my guitar and this song fell out,” Boots said. “This song is about the stories I heard about the man after he passed, the love and the handshakes.

By Juan Haines Senior Editor

Correctional Officer L. Griffin

San Quentin State Prison lost a great treasure on Aug. 23. After a lengthy battle with cancer, Correctional Officer L. Griffin passed away.

Griffin’s passing hit the men-in-blue like a boulder. Griffin had worked at San Quentin since Feb. 14, 1998.

“Once I heard about C/O Griffin’s passing, I was instantly saddened, being that we worked together for four years,” said Anthony Ammons. “One of the most important things that Griffin taught me was to always say ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome.’”

Harold Meeks added, “The wisdom and words of encouragement Griffin gave to me empowered me to keep mentoring the youth inside these prison walls. Griffin always reminded us that we can change, and it is possible.”

Griffin was well-known to younger inmates, who wore their pants too low—they’d catch hell for it. “Stop sagging your pants,” Griffin would tell the youngsters, and rightfully so. Griffin never missed an opportunity to speak candidly and directly and never worried about who listened or their opinions.

The prison staff, as well as the men-in-blue, knew Griffin for being cheerful in nature. Many say that laughter would fill the room whenever Griffin appeared— filling every corner in every inch of San Quentin.

Here are just a few of the things said about Griffin: “Griffin wasn’t just a correctional officer; Griffin was a mentor, a teacher and a pure hearted genuine soul, who always offered you the truth.”

“If you never knew what a real angel looked like then you never saw Griffin.”

“Griffin told stories filled with a wealth of knowledge but also with an abundance of joy, laughter and smiles.”

“It didn’t rain on Aug. 23, 2019; the sun shined, just like Griffin’s smile.”

Without a doubt, the atmosphere here at San Quentin will never be the same.

By Richard Richardson Executive Editor

Chicago group engages storytelling to understand violence

September 11, 2019 by San Quentin News Contributer

All those in attendance assemble for a group photo after the talk

When Sam Castro was three years old, he was shot in the arm outside his home on Chicago’s Northwest side. He remembers the chaos in the aftermath, how his mother and grandmother screamed when he walked over and told them what had happened. He also remembers that after the initial shock of the whole thing, nobody ever spoke to him about it again.

Castro, 45, said that the incident loomed large in his childhood. Seeing violence so early in his life led him on the path to crime and eventually to prison.

He shared the story as part of a facilitated conversation in April called “From Incarceration to Peacemaking,” which aimed to describe the root causes of violence. The event was hosted by Envisioning Justice, an organization devoted to encouraging Chicagoans to think about the impacts of the criminal justice system on communities around the city and imagine what reforms to the system might look like.

“The whole point of Envisioning Justice is to try and see what the arts and humanities can do to make criminal justice reform a city-wide issue, but also to really involve people who aren’t usually involved and get them to envision what a different system would look like,” said Elliot Heilman, an organizer of the event.

Castro and two other men spoke to an audience of about 15 teen- agers who were members of The Peace Exchange, a Chicago organization that educates teenagers about topics ranging from restorative justice to teen dating violence with the hope that they be- come peace lead- ers in their own communities.

Sam Castro, Frederick Seaton and Orlando Mayorga, the three formerly incarcerated panelists during the conversation. Castro and Seaton sport the neon yellow jackets that they wear when they work as violence interrupters.

Henry Cervantes, a pro- gram manager for Peace Exchange, who facilitated the talk, said that these conversations were important because they “can transform our own perceptions of the world and can change our views on reality.”

Cervantes grew up in spaces greatly impacted by violence and incarceration. “My earliest childhood memories were that of my mother and sisters and I being beaten on a daily basis, and hearing, seeing and avoiding gunshots in this community,” he said. At age 12, his younger sister took her own life as a response to the domestic violence. Cervantes was only 17 years old. “The work I’m doing now has everything to do with how I was raised,” he said.

Cervantes said conversations like this one are important because they help heal formerly incarcerated people’s wounds while also allowing others to learn from their mistakes. “You gotta share that knowledge with the people,” he said.

The feeling that the criminal justice system traps Black and Latino communities in an endless cycle of incarceration loomed large throughout the conversation. Micah Baker, 16, a student from The Peace Exchange, reflected on this after the discussion.

“The Black community and the Latino community, they end up in these correctional facilities because they don’t have the resources that White people have,” Baker remarked after the event. “They don’t have these equal opportunities, and that’s what lands them in these jails.”

During the conversation, Baker and the other teenagers also grappled with the question of prison reform versus prison abolition. Orlando Mayorga, one of the formerly incarcerated panelists, came down on the abolitionist side. “It does not take prison for a person to learn from the mistakes that they make,” he said. “I am who I am in spite of prison, not because of it.”

Mayorga, who recently graduated from college and works with people re-entering the community after incarceration, noted how difficult it is to transform neighborhoods when so much of the community is locked up.

“[Prisons] rob our neighborhood of valuable resources,” he said, adding that people who could improve neighborhoods “don’t have that opportunity because they’re spending so much time in prisons.”

Castro agreed. Once he got out of prison he said he remembered thinking, “I destroyed my community. Now, I need to rebuild it. I need to help my people because if we don’t do it, nobody will.”

Town Hall addresses the arrival of deaf prisoners

September 11, 2019 by ANTHONY FAULK

The hearing-impaired soon to arrive at San Quentin

San Quentin State Prison will begin housing deaf prisoners, state officials report.

“They just want to be a part of the education and self-help pro- grams you enjoy here,” said Kelly Mitchell, assistant deputy director for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation (CDCR).

The transfers to San Quentin are the result of years of litigation between the deaf community and CDCR for their equal access to educational and self-help programs, said Prison Legal Office attorney Rita Lomio.

Mitchell announced the change at three August town hall meetings at San Quentin. She said 10- 15 deaf people would arrive at SQ in September.

She said there have been court rulings “but we’re here now and I believe this is going to be good.”

“Deaf people may serve longer prison terms than their hearing counterparts because they are not able to equally access educational and rehabilitative programing,” wrote attorneys at the Prison Law Office in recent statements attached to the long-running Armstrong v. Brown disability rights case.

There are currently 78 deaf inmates within CDCR, the Prison Law Office reported. Thirty-seven have been housed in Substance Abuse Treatment Facility and State Prison at Corcoran that, prisoner rights advocates say, makes it difficult to provide them needed interpretation services.

Moving them to San Quentin allows them to “have im- proved access to interpretation services, to more and varied programs, services and activities, and to community groups familiar with their needs,” said Don Specter, director of Prison Law Office.

“I told everyone we could do it here – it would be easy here because of the groups, education, and programing you have here,” said Mitch- ell. She described San Quentin as a place with an “open and accepting” environment.

Mitchell led a discussion, video clip viewings, and demonstrations about deaf culture and challenges and solutions related to their integration. Her implementation team included Lt. Tim Fleshman, Correctional Counselor II C. Levan, and Deanna Sardo, sign language interpreter.

Levan led questions and answers on myths such as all deaf people read lips, use sign language, and cannot talk. “All deaf people are not the same,” Levan said, “Effective communication depends on the individual.”

Levan demonstrated some best practices for communicating with deaf individuals with help from Sardo and San Quentin inmate Tommy Wickerd, a sign language practitioner. During the town hall meetings, Lt. Tim Fleshman showed video clips of non-incarcerated people from the deaf community signing and verbalizing messages about the deaf culture.

“Don’t act like you know what we are saying, when you don’t. We see you; we

can tell when you are clueless,” signed one unnamed women evoking chuckles throughout the room.

Mitchell said, “They don’t expect you to be perfect. They just want you to welcome them and accept them.”

She talked about her own experiences visiting with deaf prisoners. She shared how after getting over her own nervousness, and loosening up, she began to be able to communicate with the people.

“I wasn’t able to sign, but I began to understand through context. They appreciate the effort,” Mitchell said. “They just want you to welcome them and accept them. They just want to be part of the community.”

Mitchell informed the attendees that there will be a sign language interpreter available at all official and “due process” events involving a deaf person and classes and groups to which a deaf is assigned.

She reported San Quentin will hire three staff interpret- ers, establish relationships with contract interpreters to be used as needed, and use computer/video interpretation systems for when in-person interpretation is not needed or feasible. San Quentin will also install video remote phones for deaf in- mates to communicate with family and friends.

“There is a $1.5 million budget for this,” said Mitchell, “San Quentin will get the resources it needs.”

One issue mentioned was deaf individuals not hearing public address announcements. Various solutions were discussed including officers checking the Strategic Offender Management System (SOMS) to see if the person being called is deaf. Fellow inmates could help, she said. “You guys are going to know who they are. You’re going to help them like you already help each other.” Audience members agreed.

Inmate Kenjo Jackson said, “I think it’s wonderful. I love diversity. It solidifies real change taking place in prison. We experienced bad. Why not something and someone new?”

Kelly described the town hall meetings as a “kickoff” to talk about the change. She said there would be more training as the transfers get closer.

Re:Store Justice starts 5-year restorative justice pilot program

September 11, 2019 by Aron Kumar Roy

A live internet joint press conference involving San Quentin State Prison and CDCR officials in Sacramento announced a five-year restorative justice pilot program aimed at the needs of victims, offenders and the community.

The first-ever live news conference to include incarcerated individuals was held recently to announce the program which will be based in San Joaquin County.

The incarcerated men, members of the Re:Store Justice organization, shared how they believe that restorative justice is a more wholesome approach to criminal justice.

Re:Store Justice is a nonprofit organization that deals with restor- ative justice and criminal justice reform.

The two locations were tied together via Skype.

“This was us announcing to the public the new resources and opportunities at hand to re- shape what the criminal justice system looks like,” said Eric “Maserati-E” Abercrombie, the main spokesman for the in- carcerated men.

“This is an opportunity to take a progressive approach to the criminal punishment sys- tem, which we know does not work. We aim to save taxpayer dollars, reduce the crime rate, reduce the incarceration rate, and increase healing.”

The $5 million pilot pro- gram aims to provide an al- ternative to the punitive ap- proach of prison.

The plan is to have of- fenders undergo an intense screening process to make sure that they are ready to change their lives by partici- pating in the restorative jus- tice program. Excluded are sex crimes and offenses that took a life.

“Currently there are lim- ited opportunities for victims to engage in the criminal jus- tice system other than at the end, when they make a vic- tim impact statement,” said

San Joaquin County District Attorney Tori Verber Salazar. “This is going to put power and tools and an opportunity to heal back in the hands of our victims.”

Each offender’s plan will be crafted and agreed upon by the crime survivor, the of- fender, community groups, law enforcement and defense attorneys.

“I want to promote heal- ing,” said crime survivor Tri- no Jiminez, who was stand- ing alongside the men in blue.

Rather than incarceration, offenders would be sent to substance abuse treatment, counseling, education and job training. Offenders may be required to pay restitution or write a statement of apology. “The way the current sys- tem is designed, the survivors are neglected. The conviction is the most important thing to achieve justice. It does noth- ing to help the victims heal,” said Abercrombie, “With this program, victims are not ne- glected; they get resources and support to heal.”Offenders in the program receive a suspended sentence. If they violate the plan, they could be sent to prison. If they complete the program, they could avoid having a criminal record.

Re:Store Justice cofounder and former San Quentin State Prison resident Adnan Khan attended the press conference in Sacramento.

“This will provide an op- portunity for people to truly understand why they did what they did, so then they can be accountable and so then they can continue making amends,” Khan said.

Khan and State Senator Steve Glazer (D-Orinda) ad- vocated for the funds to intro- duce the pilot program after a meeting at San Quentin State Prison.

“The goal of restorative jus- tice is to give victims a chance to receive true justice in a much more personal way than our current system allows,”

said Senator Glazer. “At the same time, the program gives offenders a chance to make amends directly to the victim.”

Abercrombie said he wants to create a criminal justice sys- tem that heals rather than fur- ther divides communities. He said he hopes the San Joaquin County pilot program will pave the way for a statewide restorative justice reform that will replace the current puni- tive system.

“Coming from the places we come from, we place limits on ourselves,” said Abercrombie, “I want to encourage everyone to break out of the boxes that we put ourselves in. As corny as that may sound, it’s real.”

Robert E. Burton receives first ever Distinguished School award

September 10, 2019 by Kevin Sawyer

Robert E. Burton Principal Michael Wheeless, receiving the Distinguished School award from OCE Superintendent Shannon Swain with Warden Ron Davis (Center)

The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation’s (CDCR) Office of Correctional Education (OCE) presented its first ever Distinguished School award to the Robert E. Burton Adult School at San Quentin State Prison in July.

An award ceremony was held at the prison to acknowledge “exemplary achievements” the school has made above all 34 other accredited schools within CDCR’s prisons.

“It wasn’t surprising it was San Quentin that won this award,” said Ralph Diaz, CDCR Secretary.

“There’s nothing easy about running an agency, school, or prison.” Then he congratulated Michael Wheeless, the school’s principle.

Graduate David Taylor speaking about his educational experiences

“Schools, by nature, are a blend of many different partnerships,” said Wheeless. He said the partnership today is the CDCR administration, made up of the Office of Correctional Education, San Quentin staff, volunteers and inmate tutors, teaching assistants, gardeners and, of course, the teachers.

Wheeless said when he started teaching at the elementary school level, he had an old concept of teaching: teacher, student, parent.

That changed with experience. “It’s not a one person show,” he said. “It takes everyone working together to make things happen.”

Several students were given the opportunity to speak about their past struggles, staff support, accomplishments and the benefit of education.

CDCR Secretary Ralph Diaz on stage sharing his experiences as a Correctional Officer

“After the first grade, I hated school,” said inmate Tommy Wickerd. He said by age 18, he was in county jail and later went to prison. “Rehabilitation was the last thing on my mind.” He said that was his “ignorant self” in the CDCR.

When educators and students create an exceptional learning atmosphere…

For 17 years, Wickerd said, he’s been sober and not involved in gang activity. “I changed my life.” He thanked all the educators. “The teachers here at San Quentin have a special skill that others don’t have.”

Inmate David Taylor said he dropped out of school at age 16 and learned the business of selling drugs. “Not having a GED or high school diploma made me feel like nothing.” He restarted his education in the county jail but dropped out. He started again at California State Prison, Sacramento but that ended when he was transferred.

The crowd laughed at Taylor’s story about a long “addiction” to watching television soap operas in prison, wasting time.

“I think about going to college for the first time,” said Taylor. He thanked the Robert E. Burton School teachers. Taylor was found suitable for parole earlier this year.

“All teams have to have a captain, and ours is Mr. Wheeless,” said inmate Kevin Schrubb. “If CDCR had an all-star team of teachers, San Quentin would make up half the team.” He said the teachers work with the men, even those who don’t want to come to class or do the work.

CDCR Director of the Division of Rehabilitative Programs Brant Choate speaking

Shannon Swain, OCE Superintendent, discussed what makes a good school and how the CDCR education program launched the Distinguished School program. “When you start to look at your own practice, you can reflect and improve to see where you need to grow,” she said before presenting Wheeless with the inaugural Distinguished School honor.

“Thirty five prisons, 12 applied, one made it,” said Ron Davis, San Quentin’s warden. He noted that the education program at his prison would not be possible without staff working in food service, custody, medical, mental health and many other departments. “Everyone’s moving in the same direction,” he said. “It’s really the perfect storm. It comes from staff who care.”

“This is a celebration of professional educators at San Quentin”

“I get invited to a lot of events to speak,” said Diaz. Then he told the story of when he was a young correctional officer working in the education department at Corcoran State Prison. It was then he observed inmates playing domino games in education and making soups with oysters. He said his thought on the matter then was if they weren’t beating each other up, everything was fine. That’s not his outlook today. “We’re in a day where people are actually learning and growing,” he said.

“It happens because of the people,” said Diaz. At San Quentin, he said, there are about 875 men pursuing an education through Burton. Of those, about 160 are studying a technical trade and about 380 are attending college. And he didn’t forget to recognize and thank all the volunteers who provide “over 40,000 hours of their time” each year to help the men. He also thanked the students, and the custody staff for “creating a safe environment.”

“This is a celebration of professional educators at San Quentin,” said Brant Choate, CDCR Director of the Division of Rehabilitative Programs. “This event is so important that Ralph Diaz came to speak to you.”

Brant asked the “professional educators” in the room to stand. More than a dozen stood up as the audience applauded them.

“I have taught at private schools, charter schools and public schools—and at the college level,” said Ms D. Searle, the Marin Independent Journal reported. She’s a Burton School teacher in the G.E.D. and high school equivalency program. “I really feel that this has been the most rewarding experience.” She said inmates are an “overlooked population.”

Music for the ceremony was performed by the San Quentin Music Program’s band, Just Us. They were Jeff Atkins, piano and lead vocals; Anthony O’Neal, background vocals; Paul Comeaux, background vocals; Lee Jaspar, guitar; Charles Ross, drums; and Len Walker, bass.

Acknowledging the musical talent of the men in Just Us, Diaz turned to Davis and asked him, jokingly with a smile, “Is there any way to get this band to play at an event outside?” The audience laughed.

Toward the end of the event, there was a question- and-answer session.

Q: How will technology affect teaching in the CDCR?

A: Swain – “I think you’ll see a lot more.” She added that, unless there is “caring staff” technology may not add to the education experience.

Q: When can students earn a living wage (in prison) for attending an education program?

A: Diaz – He questioned if people would participate in education programs for the right reason if pay were the incentive.

Q: How can vocational trade students give back?

A:Swain–“I saw a student teaching another the Pythagorean Theorem.” She said the CDCR has an innovative partnership at Salinas where students participate and build small homes. Brant – “There’s lots of opportunities to give back.” He said inmates can teach others.

Q: What’s being done to shorten the waiting list to get in education programs?

A: Wheeless – He said to get men in programs faster, “we’d have to increase the number of programs.”

Q: What about paying inmate tutors?

A: Swain – The idea that education jobs can be comparable to PIA jobs has been considered.

Q: What about more programs on Level-4 prisons?

A: Diaz – “The challenge with those programs is space.” He said those facilities, when designed in the 1980s, didn’t have education in mind. Also, safety has to be considered, which means the violence would have to be reduced.

Q: Any plans to increase GED credits under Proposition 57, from six months to nine months?

A: Choate – “No.” (The audience laughed) “I think it’s important that this (award) highlights schools’ continuous improvement and work as a professional team,” said Martin D. Griffin, OCE Associate Superintendent. “San Quentin really stood out for having support that results in student success.”

Griffin said CDCR had been working on the award for the last two years. It was finalized in the fall of 2018. He said in February they evaluated applications and later a team visited San Quentin. They came from CDCR headquarters; there was one warden, a community college representative from the chancellor’s office, and an assistant from Career Technical Education (CTE).

According to Griffin, among the ten criteria used to consider which school to award were climate, culture, professional learning and student support. He said five team members visited San Quentin in May, and the award was announced in June.

The final highlight from the day’s event came when Choate sat in with the band and played drums and Swain took to a microphone and sang a spur-of-the-moment rendition of “Hotel California” by the Eagles as the band backed them up. Some of the guests stopped in the aisles and smiled as they observed Swain’s vocals, cheerfulness and the seamless transition from Ross to Choate on the drums.

Ken Burns brings Country Music to SQ

September 10, 2019 by Joe Garcia

Ken Burns, Julie Dunfey and Dayton Duncan hosting a Q&A for their PBS documentary Country Music

Ken Burns came to the San Quentin chapel and delivered an exclusive prison screening of his latest American gospel, Country Music.

The July 24 visit brought prisoners up close and personal with the legendary filmmaker and two of his Florentine Films teammates, writer and co-producers Julie Dunfey and Dayton Duncan.

“I feel like I’ve met almost everyone here in this room,” said Burns to the roughly 150 inmates and staff. “This has been one of the greatest hours of my life.”

Burns uses the scope of Country Music to explore themes of America’s cultural identity, as he has done in his other documentaries.

Ken Burns wearing the SQ Day of Peace wristbands

“You don’t ever get an answer. You just deepen the question,” Burns told SQNews. “We’re a very complicated people.”

“Americans tend to be very tribal—in spite of that whole ‘melting pot’ ideology we like to talk about.

“Country Music shows legends like Hank Williams getting tutored early on by guys like Jimmy Rogers, so we see the impact of these African American mentors—and how so many country musicians got their chops from somewhere else.”

“I’m not surprised by your emotion. “I’m honored by it”

The SQ event marked the first time Burns has been back inside a penal facility since he was 19, when he worked as a tutor within the Massachusetts Correctional Institute in Concord.

Burns signing autographs after the event

“I taught a guy my age English and writing,” said Burns about that 1972 summer experience. His upcoming production, College Behind Bars, took another Florentine collaborator, Lynn Novick, inside New York’s Bard Prison Initiative, where she filmed prisoners working to achieve college degrees.

“If you spend time with incarcerated men and women—and see them learning, you realize that if they were on the outside, they’d easily be getting their Masters and Ph.Ds,” said Burns. “I hope this film can help unite all those prison university projects around the country.

“When we look at the growing shift toward prison reform right now, it seems like a perfectly propitious time to get all those reforms on the same page.”

For the SQ audience, Burns chose to show excerpts that largely featured Merle Haggard and Johnny Cash— two men whose legacies are deeply tied to the prison’s own history and culture.

Haggard served time at SQ in the fifties and was in the prison audience during Cash’s first concert here on New Year’s Day 1959.

“Johnny Cash came to the prison to tell them ‘You are a human being,’” said Burns. “It was extremely important for him to come inside and be able to deliver that message.

“You know, when we live in our gated communities out there, we don’t recognize the ‘other.’ You hear the words ‘inmate’ or ‘incarcerated,’ and right away that closes the door.

“To truly begin to under- stand ourselves and forgive ourselves—as well as the ‘other’—that’s much harder for humanity to bear.”

Burns, Dunfey, Moderator Rahsaan Thomas and Duncan on stage

Cash’s performances at SQ left an indelible impression on him, which later fueled the desire to record his landmark concert album at Folsom State Prison.

“You can’t contain him in any one story,” Burns said of Cash. “He was one of those artists that could grapple with two opposing ideas at the same time—those binary contradictions.

“Haggard had all this anxiety about people finding out about his prison past. It was Cash that convinced him to get up on stage and be open about it.

“Lifting that immense burden off of him was a wonderful moment—an incredible gift Cash gave to Merle.”

Country Music’s entire 16 hour run is slated to begin airing on PBS in September. Before previewing about 30 minutes of selected clips, Burns spoke to the audience.

“Country music, its fairness and authenticity enables it to address human beings— wherever they might be, and whatever they may look like,” he said.

Burns later discussed the profound way country artists stay deeply rooted to their fan base. “Because so many came from abject poverty, they never lose their connection,” he said. “There is no ‘being above’ the fans for the artists in Country Music. They look each other in the eye.”

The first screened segment focused on Haggard and his upbringing within a family of Oklahomans migrating to Bakersfield, California. Because “Okies” faced extreme prejudice—being “talked down to” and “looked down upon” by mainstream society—the film reveals Haggard’s empathy toward the Black experience in America.

During his outlaw career, Haggard escaped 17 times from various California correctional facilities, his first escape being from a juvenile detention center at the age of 16.

“Somebody was always after me,” said Haggard in Country Music. “I was only doing time when they’d catch me.”

Haggard credited Cash and that New Year’s Day concert at SQ for inspiring him “to someday be a star.” He also wondered what path his life might have taken “if music hadn’t saved me.”

Incarcerated old-timer Curly Ray Martin—a veteran country musician himself who walked the SQ yard with Haggard in the ’50s—sat right be- side Duncan during the chapel screening.

Afterwards, eyes watering with emotion, Duncan pointed out Martin to the audience as “one of the great stories in country music.”

“Curly Ray was at Folsom when Cash made his concert there,” said the choked-up Duncan. “What an honor to be able to show you that in person.”

Martin turned 80 in June and has spent the last 52 years serving a seven-to-life sentence for murder. At his most recent hearing in April, the Board of Paroles denied him again—for the 24th time.

“They said they felt I was still dangerous,” Martin told SQNews.

Although he knew about the screening that day, “I was just gonna wait for it to come on PBS,” he said. “I had to be at work, but then my boss called me up to the desk and said, ‘Here’s a pass to go up to the chapel.’

“I got Lt. Sam Robinson to thank for that. ’Else I would have missed out.”

“I was shocked,” Martin said about all the attention paid to him by Burns and team. “I felt kinda honored and proud.

“I think Merle would’ve liked it. For both of us, I’m sure, watching it took us to places where we didn’t necessarily want to go—some bad, some good—labor camps, prison yards. It was all a part of us.”

Martin dispelled the recent myth that Haggard and he were once cellmates.

“I don’t know where they came up with that. When I was here, Merle lived in North Block. I was housed in South,” Martin said. “The only thing we shared was the yard and Glen Sherley. They started me writing.

“Merle and Glen ran together constantly, and then I came along. Merle taught me to play bass. “When I was

here in ’58, I didn’t know noth- in’ about music— except I liked it.”

Between then and starting this prison term in 1967, Martin achieved his own success in the music industry— playing with the likes of Eddy Arnold, Waylon Jennings, Haggard, Rose Maddux, Tammy Wynette and many others.

“I know I’m here because I was too hard headed to appreciate what I had,” Martin said. He rarely ever pulls his guitar out anymore after surgery for cancer ended his singing. “That tore my vocal cords all to hell.”

Setting up a brief Q & A after the preview, Burns helped the chapel’s sound engineer, Steve Pascascio, carry a table up onto the stage area.

“He wanted to help out,” Pascascio later said. “When people saw him about to pitch in, they tried to stop him— but he told them, ‘No, I want to do this.’”

Richie Morris used the Q & A microphone to tell Burns and the entire audience how he’d cried while watching the scenes of Haggard. “I grew up with the children of Rose Maddux. I’ve been locked up for the last 34 years, but there’s men here who’ve been locked up far longer,” he said. “Your film gets straight to the heart of me.”

“I’m not surprised by your emotion,” responded Burns. “I’m honored by it.”

D. Ernest Sotero also shared his own background and thanked Burns, Dunfey and Duncan for “taking the time out of your day for us lowly prisoners here.”

“What a kind story,” said Burns. “I’d take away one adjective in there, however— lowly.”

Dunfey, responding to a question, explained how perhaps the most challenging aspect of making this film in- volved capturing the resonant power of the featured songs’ lyrics. Burns generally uses instrumentals to set his intended tone.

“Country music is more than 50% about the lyrics, so the viewer needs to hear those words,” said Dunfey. “I have to credit our editors for getting that right.

“Country Music deals heavily with the question of who we are as Americans— and you can tap your toe and cry to it.”

Brothers George Grifall and Chris Koppe

September 4, 2019 by Juan Haines

“I love you, brother,” was the catchphrase for Grifall. Koppe was lovingly known as Colonel Sanders or Colonel Crispy.

“When I felt his hand, it was ice cold,” Dickman said. “He died in his sleep. Don’t believe the rumors out there.”

Walter Sprakea talked about meeting Grifall while incarcerated at Corcoran in 1999.

“Chris told me that he’d teach me how to play rhythm guitar”

“George was my friend. He was one the most loyal people I ever knew. I could still hear him, ‘I love you, brother”

Anthony Thomas read a poem that he wrote in honor of Grifall.

Richie Morris said that he didn’t know George well, but “his absence leaves a hole in my life. I always saw him be- ing kind.

“Now, Colonel Crispy looked like Colonel Sanders,” Morris continued. “We spend our time with people passing by us and never notice who they are. We got an opportu- nity here to record we stand among giants. I want you to recognize that.”

SQNews Staffer, Aaron Taylor talked about guitar les- sons he got from Koppe.

The incident, Taylor said, invigorated his willingness to learn guitar, and he practiced until Koppe later agreed to play lead guitar with him at an open mic.

In between men taking the stage to talk about their friends, Quentin Blues enter- tained the audience: (Dwight Krizman (Bass), Richie Mor- ris (Guitar and Vocals), Chris Thomas (Mandolin & Vo- cals), Mark Kinney (Piano), Joe Thurson Percussion); An- drew “Boots” Hardy (Guitar and Vocal).

A recording of “Now I Can Rise”, with Koppe on lead guitar was also played.

Brian Holliday talked about his relationship with Grifall.

“Every time he saw me, he’d stop and say, ‘What’s up?’ You don’t see that in people too much,” Holliday said. “I really miss him.”

Quentin Blues closed the memorial with two songs for Koppe: “Full Tilt Boogie” and “Upward as I Fall”.

For Grifall, Quentin Blues played “Feet Don’t Fail Me Now”. Then “Boots” per- formed a song he had writ- ten the previous morning and dedicated to George.

“I dropped my pick inside my guitar and this song fell out,” Boots said. “This song is about the stories I heard about the man after he passed, the love and the handshakes.