San Quentin News

Written By Incarcerated - Advancing Social Justice

Donté Clark returns to SQ’s APEP with spoken word session

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Donté Clark returned to San Quentin last November for a spoken word session and to rap with students seeking to earn their GEDs and go to college. Clark is a poet, who mentors young writers in Richmond, Ca.

The Academic Peer Education Program (APEP) hosted Clark’s visit.

Peer educator James Metters talked about incarcerated educator, Bobby Evans, who envisioned opportunities for students to have access to GED studying after they get off work, and that’s what’s started APEP.

When Metters asked APEP students to address the class, an enthusiastic Charles Brandon told the group that San Quentin changed his life.

“I’m in computer literacy and on the waiting list for PUP. I want to learn coding, so I can work at Google,” Brandon said. “I want to rap, learn filmmaking and real estate. I want my own clothing line and hopefully one day, I’ll own a Starbucks.”

Michael Kirkpatrick added, “There’s a lot of positive talk around here. We don’t

tear each other down. We build each other up.”

Derry “Brotha Dee” Brown spoke about Clark’s influences on him.

“It’s what he’s doing for the community. He knows us well — he blends in with us,” Brown said. “There’s a few individuals that know poetry, and I see they will enjoy his work.”

Prior to Metters introducing Clark to the class, Brown and Raiveon “Ray Ray” Wooden performed a skit based on bullying, suicide and violence. Ray Ray’s part was that of evil while Brother Dee played the voice of reason. After a standing ovation Clark took the stage.

Wearing a bright sun yellow beanie tilted slightly back to cover shoulder-length dreads Clark performed one of his poems.

He began by pacing back for forth in front of the class- room with hand gestures that shuffled the air. Then he spoke the lines with the hook, “Life sings me sweet songs. Love is a sweet song.”

“Donté’s second visit to San Quentin motivates people and lets them know how far education and resilience can go, like he does as a writ- er—literacy helps us achieve our goals,” peer educator, James Metters said. “To me, he is a perfect example of what could be achieved de- spite stratified communities, drugs or violence.

Clark works with the youth in Richmond and encourages young writers to put on performances.”

“I just gotta write,” Clark said. “It’s hard to talk about. I just got to demonstrate it. Then people who see it, and they want to help.”

After high school, one of Clark’s college classes gave him the opportunity to work with youth. Writing was involved and “everything just fell into place.”

“When people told me that I was a gifted writer, it was inspirational,” Clark said. “I research a lot, read a lot and talk to people a lot. I also do a lot of listening and compare it to what I’ve read in books.

“Knowing how to connect with people makes me a better teacher.”

A journey of losing of a loved one and working through the trauma

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A granddaughter’s wish came true when Brian Cahill decided to write about his son, her father John Cahill.

Cops, Cons, and Grace: A Father’s Journey Through His Son’s Suicide, (2018) is a recount of how Brian Cahill reconciled the suicide of his beloved son, John, and found dignity for his family.

Brian takes readers on a step-by-step path to a filling grace that’s rooted in service to police officers and seeing to the spiritual needs of incarcerated men.

San Quentin’s Catholic Chaplin George Williams writes:

“Brian Cahill found healing and strength in an unexpected place—with convicts at San Quentin state prison—after the suicide of his son, a 42-year-old police officer, plunged him into unimaginable grief. This gripping, personal and inspiring journey reveals the power of grace over death as the author channels his heartbreak into loving action, honoring his son’s life by teaching suicide awareness and prevention to police officers.”

There are important lessons regarding suicide prevention all readers learn from what Brian writes, “…I’ve learned the research shows that most people who commit suicide — not just cops but almost everyone who does it — believe they’re a burden, and those who love them will be better off when they’re gone.”

The anguish is clear as he goes on to say: “We all screw up. Some of our screw-ups are felonies and some are not. But they all have consequences…My wife has told me I have to forgive myself. My counselor has told me I have to forgive myself, And now I’m standing in a prison chapel and a convicted murderer is telling me that I have to forgive myself.

“I don’t know if it’s unique, but it’s pretty special that a family of a cop who dies would receive a condolence message from a bunch of San Quentin prisoners…I sit there on the wooden pew in this prison chapel, listening to a man who may never get out of here, nicely telling me to get a grip, to get some perspective.”

Cahill stands in the middle of two entities, believed to be against each other — yet Brian recalls his son once saying, “To my dad, the social worker,” and that’s where Brain finds his calling.

It might seem hard to understand why an incarcerated person would want to read about the suicide of a police officer, yet in this story, the father is someone incarcerated people rely upon in their healing journey.

The story is extremely well written, so that readers understand the sensitivity of the father, that Brain Cahill had to work through some trauma—that he had to seek and find forgiveness and remorse—which almost every incarcerated person experiences.

Brain Cahill didn’t only rely on his own experience. He continually sought professional help.

Remembering Patrick Maloney’s 40 years at San Quentin

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Patrick Maloney taught art to incarcerated men at San Quentin for more than 40 years, his first 10 years were spent voluntarily teaching condemned men on Death Row.

Maloney was born, Feb. 5, 1938. He passed away on Aug. 18, 2019, surrounded by his loving family and his art at the home that he built in Nicasio in the late 1960s.

His generosity enriched thousands of lives as he often worked with those on the margins of society: recent immigrants, the incarcerated, juvenile offenders, and low- income and at-risk children and families. He went out of his way to learn from other cultures and from others’ experiences.

Maloney once said, “I make art to maintain my connection to life.”

Pat Maloney with his art

A memorial service was held on Nov. 10 at the Whipper Snapper Restaurant in San Rafael. Maloney designed the restaurant’s interior and it is filled with his artwork including chandelier and walls.

Kurt Huget, Auntie Jun Hamamoto, Dunya Alwan, Pat Maloney, Steve Emrick and Amy Ho at 2018 event

“Patrick was a community artist before the concept existed in America,” Katya McCulloch, an Arts in Corrections (AIC) instructor since 2004. “That is something that his family allowed us to share. So, the memorial was precious that it brought together Patrick’s family and the community that treasured him so much.”

At the memorial, McCulloch read the following words of praise from several incarcerated men enrolled in San Quentin’s AIC program:

Bruce Fowler: You couldn’t help but admire Pat. He’s the first person I’ve met that never said a negative word about anyone or anything. He taught me so much more than how to paint; because of him, I strive to be a kinder, more compassionate person. I will always honor his memory and never forget the eight years that I was blessed to have him in my life. I will forever love and miss you my dear friend Pat.

We took a liking to one another as if we’d been best friends all our lives”

Gary Harrell: Patrick always kept his word and showed up on time at 7:45. I started working with him in 1996 from fear of not be- ing able to draw. After a few years, I started to draw. I learned so much about art listening to Patrick, a very soft-spoken man that told me, stay focused on the subject matter.

Lamavis Comundoiwilla:

I’d never have become who I am without his teaching. He changed my life. I began thinking of productive ways for art and for that, I am forever thankful.

Jeff Isom: Pat was a very kind, caring and loving individual. Even in his struggles, he was selfless – always think- ing of others beside himself.

Stan Bey: We took a liking to one another as if we’d been best friends all our lives.

Orlando Smith: I could never imagine Pat being up- set or angry or upset or in a bad mood or snappy—he was the most mellow person I ever met—he’d make people feel super comfortable.

Anthony Vasquez- Ramirez: We talked a lot. Sometimes it had nothing to do with art. I think that one of his best qualities is that he had the willingness and ability to listen. He had the patience, willingness, and ability to just listen. I know that as a painter and family man, that he had an interest in young adults, teenagers who found themselves caught up in the criminal justice system. He was a one-of-a- kind man, extremely artistic, patient and a good teacher. I know he’s in a good place. We need more good people like him.

Remembering a friend, veteran and devout church goer

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Tony Burch with the US Marines at a veterans event in 2016

Tony Burch was a Navy veteran; however, it was his smile and singing that made him popular in San Quentin State Prison. He passed away on Nov. 6. He was 67 years old.

Burch’s memorial began on Nov. 18 with a Color Guard of incarcerated veterans, with Garvin Robinson, Ernie Soltero, Carl Raybon and Brian Corder carrying the American and POW flags inside the prison’s Protestant Chapel.

After the flags were set in front of the chapel’s stage, Taps sounded and more than 100 of Burch’s fellow men-in-blue stood in his honor and saluted the flags or held their hands over their hearts.

Tony Burch with James “Shorty” Dunbaraluting on 2017 Veterans Day

Church elder Darryl Hill sang one of Burch’s favorite songs, Why Don’t You Pray For Me?

“It is an encouragement that even though we are incarcerated, we can celebrate Tony’s life,” Carl Solerdo said. “The brother showed his love and always had a smile.”

Trent Capell and Patrick Bayliss read passages from The New Testament.

Chaplain Mardi Ralph Jackson took the stage and talked about Burch as a God fearing man.

“This is a peaceful occasion. We honor this faithful man to this ministry. He was always respectful and conducted himself as a man of God,” Jackson said. “I can thank God for Brother Tony Burch. He never said anything derogatory but was always glorifying God when he talked to me.”

Several men-in-blue followed Jackson to tell stories about Burch.

“God allowed me the pleasure to meet Brother Tony,” Hill said. “We played cards, Scrabble, cooked and ate together. What I remember most, during the card games, he wasn’t that great, so he’d make excuses and say, ‘I think you’re pencil whipping me,’” Hill said, which brought laughter. He added, “I have a lot of fond memories of him. He taught me how to listen and to be respectful. He’d bring me to scripture to correct me. He was always claiming and living Christ.”

Larry Histon talked about having a conversation about Burch with an incarcerated hospital worker. Burch was on his way to the outside hospital. The hospital worker told Burch, “I’ll see you when you get back.” Burch replied, ‘I’ll see you on the other side.’”

David Rodriguez sang a song in Burch’s honor.

Here’s what others said:

“I played Scrabble with Tony. He’d put down a word that you were sure was not in the dictionary, but when you challenged it and looked it up, there it would be. Then the next time he’d put down a word that you didn’t know, you’d be scared to challenge it. Later on, you’d look up the word and it’s not in there.”

“Tony, I know you’re up there in Heaven,” one person said before singing a heart-felt rendition of “Amazing Grace.”

“He was always talking about what God had done for him.”

Incarcerated veterans added:

“I knew Tony in the U.S. Seabees.”

“He was good company. He was consistently Tony.”

“He used to like to have fun and wouldn’t want anyone to be sad.”

“I learned that he sang with the Chi-Lites and that was one of my favorite groups. As a singer myself, I am grateful that I met him.”

“He used to tell me that it made him happy to see me dancing round and round as we were singing to the Lord. He slipped away from me, but I’m going to catch him.”

One person read a poem that ended with the poet singing Anchors Away.

Before he passed, Burch said to a friend, “I hope I come back a better man.”

The Color Guard ended the memorial with Taps being played one more time.

Keeping the conversation going about HIV on World AIDS Day at SQ

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Almost 20 years ago, Andrew Yancy felt a small lump on his neck. He told a nurse he thought it was a spider bite. There were examinations and tests — the results shocked him — he had been infected with the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV).

Since then, Yancy says he’s serious about educating people about HIV. He had a chance to make good on his word, when two local non-profits geared to serve those suffering from HIV/AIDS came to San Quentin the day after World AIDS Day.

Acquired immunodeficiency syndrome (AIDS) is a term that applies to the advanced stages of HIV infection.

“The most important thing is keeping the conversation going,” Yancy said, “and not for just HIV patients — everyone needs to be involved.”

“This is an important issue,” said Lisa Strawn, a San Quentin prisoner and emcee of our first-ever Transgender Day of Remembrance. “It’s about saving lives, not just the LBGTQ community. There’s tattooing, drug use and not everybody is going to be up front. This day is important in so many ways. So, it’s disappointing that there aren’t any medical staff here.”

The non-profits that came to talk to the prisoners, Until There’s A Cure and AIDS Project of the East Bay (APEB), work toward HIV/AIDS awareness and providing services to those directly impacted by the virus.

“We need to get past being shunned, afraid to shake hands,” said Ed Jones of APEB. “Those living with HIV should not be shunned away.”

APEB holds discussion groups to talk about the stigma and challenges faced.

“It’s a good way to vent and share when there’s something going on,” Jones said. “It’s a great place to go, and we feed you.”

The National Institute of Health reports that, today, there are medications for HIV treatment and to prevent its transmission, which enables a person to live a nearly normal lifespan.

APEB operates a health clinic that, in addition to offering patient care and case management, is involved with community outreach and testing. The non-profit also has a workforce education and training program, transgender support services, youth activities as well as pastoral care and counseling.

“I can relate to being here,” said APEB staffer, Mikiya “Fefe.” “I’m transgender, and I was in prison for three years and transgender.” He told the audience that he knows firsthand what it’s like not to be educated and not have support or guidance and then go back to the streets. I want to be a beacon so no matter what background you come from you have support.”

Dora Hanna, executive director of Until There’s A Cure, assists those with felony convictions obtain housing. The organization also has raised more than $23 million by selling bracelets to support non-profits focused on HIV/AIDS related issues.

“When you’re homeless, the risk of infection from HIV goes up,” Hanna said. “If you self-medicate and engage in risky behavior and have poor eating habits, the risk goes up. Until We Find A Cure aims to eliminate barriers and to make the drugs more accessible. Everyone deserves a place to live.”

HIV is found in certain bodily fluids of people living with HIV, including blood, semen, vaginal fluids, rectal fluids and breast milk. HIV can be transmitted by:

  • Unprotected vaginal or anal sex, and, in very rare cases, through oral sex with a person who has HIV; blood transfusion of contaminated blood.
  • Sharing of needles, syringes, other injecting equipment as well as exposure to other sharp instruments.
  • From a mother with HIV to her infant during pregnancy, childbirth or breastfeeding.

If a person living with HIV is on antiretroviral therapy, which effectively suppresses HIV in the body, their chance of transmitting HIV to another person is greatly reduced. This class of drugs is available to prisoners in California.

For more information, write to:

APEB

8400 Enterprise Way, Suite 118

Oakland, CA 94621

SQ Veterans Day brings chairperson of the National Endowment for the Arts

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Veteran’s Day brought the chairperson of the National Endowment for the Arts, Mary Anne Carter, inside San Quentin to mingle with artists and incarcerated veterans. Joining Carter was Alma Robinson, executive director of California Lawyers for the Arts (CLA).

“From the moment I walked in this room I was blown away by the visit and beautiful art,” Carter said after she walked into the prison’s art studio. “I look around at these images and I know that could be in any gallery in the world.”

SQ resident Scott Mckinstry has been involved with Arts in Corrections (AIC), sponsored by the William James Association since 2001.

Mckinstry said that he’s known people involved with AIC who later earned parole.

“Their involvement in the arts program helped them communicate better,” McKinstry said. “I got interested in arts for my rehabilitation. I read a study that that showed how the skills learned from art are not like the traditional kinds of learning. The learning from art is used right after you’ve learned them.”

When statewide budget cuts were imposed in the mid-2000s, Arts in Corrections (AIC) funds were also reduced. Some volunteer artists, however, continued devoting time to the prisoners and still taught inside. From that experience, Robinson said that she learned how much the cuts affected incarcerated artists.

“It taught them time management and discipline,” Robinson said of the incarcerated artists.

Robinson said that after telling prison officials about the resilience of the incarcerated artists, the state restored funding for arts in corrections. She added that the “positive message” incentivized art funding in five other states, Texas, Michigan, Ohio, Louisiana and New York.

When the visitors left the art studio they headed to a small bungalow on the prison’s Lower Yard to meet with participants in a veteran’s program and an artistic ensemble program.

Once inside the building, they were seated in a semi-circle.

The programs, Veterans Healing Veterans From the Inside Out (VHV) and the Marin Shakespeare Company have formed a connection for storytelling and healing.

The veterans write scripts based on their military backgrounds.

The plays address Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and other kinds of trauma that the veterans have experienced. Facilitators of VHV has discovered that incarcerated veterans’ inner reflective work through the VHV curriculum curtailed the suicide rates for incarcerated vets.

Chris Marshall and Juan Carlos Meza, who both performed in Shakespeare at SQ plays, gave the veterans acting training to help them tell their stories and deal with trauma and PTSD.

“In the beginning of the class, there was one participant who could not do a “trust fall,” but by the end even he was able to do it,” Meza said. “Sometimes, acting out the feeling is better than dealing with it from any other method.”

Marshall added, “By acting it out or seeing others act it out, there is sympathy, empathy to see it in third person allows forgiveness for self and others. The release is a physical sensation.”

Marshall explained that participants co-write the performances to get a full arc of stories.

“It takes about four months to figure out how to share the story,” Marshall said. “Last year there were seven drafts before we got one that worked.”

Meza demonstrated how to create a story by asking four people from the audience to the center of the circle to face each other.

He asked the four to be a rock. Then he called two other people from the audience and asked them to be “fire” by kneeling with hands up imitating flames—fingers wagging.

Meza then asked the audience if they remembered campfire stories.

“Weren’t those the good days?” Meza asked. “It was done to tell stories, when you see fires, you see comfort. But we don’t have that today. Everyone wants to be heard, number one is feelings, everyone wants to be felt and know what you’re not alone, but the essential one is love—the things that keeps the fire going is our stories.”

At the end of her visit, Carter said, “What has stuck with me the most is talking to the individual artists—the hope they see. Moreover, the arts have become their release for understanding how to change their life and in some cases why their life has to be changed.”

SF Police personnel visit SQ for second “Blue on Blue” conversation

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Small group discussion between the incarcerated and SF police personnel

Two dozen San Francisco Police Department (SFPD) personnel made their way across San Quentin’s Lower Yard on Nov. 22 and stood among men they may have previously arrested. It was a part of the second “Blue-on-Blue Conversation” (BBC) held at the prison.

Former SF Deputy District Attorney Marisa Rodriguez, now head of the San Francisco Office of Cannabis, organized the first BBC on May 24. “We thought this experience was powerful and eye popping,” said SFPD Commander David Lazar.

“Often we don’t see the other side,” said SFPD Chief Will Scott at the second BBC. “We make an arrest, testify and don’t see the other side and how they are impacted.”

Deputy Chief Greg McEachern, added, “I want people in the department to see the impact and get a better understanding of their role and responsibilities as officers—to see the human side of things. When you put handcuffs on someone, there’s a human being there.”

The line officers, sergeants, lieutenants, and captains as well as two civilians convened in the prison’s Protestant Chapel. About two dozen incarcerated men, along with local Bay Area volunteers and a prison staffer, joined the officers in a large circle to introduce themselves.

Facilitators, participants and San Francisco Police at the Garden Chapel

Some police officers told the BBC participants, “We’re ordered to be here.” Officer Michael Amorose added, “I don’t mind gaining experience.”

After the introductions, the participants went into small circles for more personal discussions. The prisoners broke the ice by talking about their first interaction with the police. The officers talked about why they joined the force. The conversation topics varied from respecting each other in the community to the power of effective communication skills to de-escalate tense encounters.

“I came with an open mind, and I’m taking away the experiences of people and their interaction with police,” said Officer Amorose. “I told the people in my circle about my experience, and they took something away.”

Deputy Chief McEachern added, “My thoughts are not the same as when I first became an officer 29 years ago. Now, they are, ‘How can I give newer officers my knowledge? When you grew up, how did you see the police—what were your views?’ Knowing that could help our young officers.”

SF police personnel visiting SQ’s North Block housing

Rafael Cuevas, an incarcerated peer-to-peer educator, said, “What would help is to give better choices to people who think it’s okay to break the law—arresting people who break the law and sending them to prison does not stop crime, but arresting them and then offering them better choices will have better outcomes.”

Troy Young, who recently earned parole suitability, added, “Talking works. There’s power in just speaking a kind word—speak to the community—every time I see you and you speak to me. That’s what you’ll be remembered by—it’s how we treat each other that counts.”

After about an hour in the small circles, the participants went back to the large circle to talk about what they’ve learned.

Chief Scott talked about a poll that asked SFPD personnel about their values.

“What rang through was everybody wants to be treated with respect; it didn’t come from me; it came from the officers,” Scott said.

He said a major topic in his small circle was being treated with respect by police officers, “Sharing that is profound.”

Officer Nathan Chew added, “If you’re respectful and not judgmental, even with a ticket or arrest, it’s returned. You have to show that compassion and respect.”

Sergeant Jeffery Aloise, a 20-year veteran with SFPD, works in the Mission District.

Aloise said he understands the power of having a good relationship with the community as well as the importance of trust—“to treat people the same, as human beings.” He said, “Having the experience of coming into San Quentin and being in this forum will help.”

For the past three years, Marcy Ginsburg has been coming into the prison once a week as a facilitator for Criminal Gangs (CGA).

“CGA forces men to dig into the deep recesses of their lives. It’s unbelievable to see their change, just from talking.”

In an effort to be honest and to change his criminal thinking, Antoine Smith said, “I had to become accountable, and in order to do that I had to look at myself.”

Referring to the experience of talking to police officers at both BBC events, San Quentin News (SQN) staffer Juan Espinosa said, “I feel more confident to approach a police officer and be a part of the community.”

Lieutenant Derrick Jackson is a 24-year veteran with SFPD.

Jackson previously worked with the gang task unit. He now works robbery. He said his experience investigating robberies gives him the chance to see some of the social factors that lead to crime. He said that his experience in San Quentin, of witnessing healing, lets him “see a system that’s working.”

SQN adviser Nikki Meredith expressed hearing “cultures of cruelty” from listening to the shared experiences of police officers and prisoners. She was, however, encouraged about the future of policing in San Francisco after hearing an older officer say that the younger officers are “the most educated, well-trained class we’ve ever had.”

After hearing many of the incarcerated men speak honestly about the reasons they chose a criminal lifestyle, Chief Scott commented that accountability was also an important factor in his belief in second chances.

“Being here gave me a new understanding of accountability,” Scott said. “This puts accountability at a high level.”

Flying Kites depicts the harsh realities of isolation in prison

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A blending of visual manipulation with a literary representation of solitary confinement

Students of the Stanford Graphic Novel Project produced a compelling and well-researched portrayal of the living conditions at Pelican Bay State Prison in an effort to show what it’s like to live in isolation.

At first glance, Flying Kites: a Story of the 2013 California Prison Hunger Strike (2019) is about Security Housing Units (SHU) at Pelican Bay. But it is also about so much more. Layered into the plot is a father, Rodrigo, doing everything he can to reconnect with his daughter, Luz. It is through their story that we understand how painful confinement is, both solitary and otherwise.

“Writing letters is the only way I can break up the monotony and loneliness of the day,” Rodrigo writes to Luz. Without telling Luz that he plagiarized Jack Henry Abbott’s memoir, The Belly of the Beast, he adds, “Solitary confinement in prison can alter the ontological makeup of a stone.”

Through letters, Luz’s feelings for her father deepen. She is disturbed when he writes descriptions of his living conditions. It is difficult for her but she works at integrating her daily life with the nine-hour drive between Oakland and Pelican Bay to visit her father.

The tragedy of Rodrigo’s relationship with his daughter derives from his eagerness to communicate—he couldn’t find the right words to express the psychological impact that long-term isolation had on him. When Luz discovers the truth, their relationship becomes strained.

In the graphic novel, the students used eight frames on a single page to show Rodrigo living in a cell. The subsequent frames get repetitively and increasingly smaller and crowded until, three pages later, more than 200 frames show Rodrigo living in his cell appear on a single page. Readers/viewers get a stark feel of Rodrigo’s lonely life.

“I spent 12 to 15 hours a day pacing. The rhythm of my feet on the concrete floor was the only thing that calmed me,” says Rodrigo as he comes to terms with the fact that he’ll be in Pelican Bay indefinitely. He adds, “Ten years later…I appear to have settled down. Yet the scream inside me has never stopped.”

Flying Kites has twists and turns—nothing is smooth and not all the problems of incarceration are solved. The Stanford students went to great lengths to make the story as authentic as possible. They used virtual reality technology to get their own taste of life in solitary confinement. They also read letters from prisoners who were currently or had previously been in solitary confinement.

There are lessons in Flying Kites universal to any reader, such as the power of family connections, accountability, the importance of believing in yourself and finding an authentic voice.

Eleven students, two teaching assistants and three instructors, collaborated on this storytelling project. It’s the brainchild of award winning author Adam Johnson. Johnson visited San Quentin’s creative writing program last August.

Although the hunger strikes did lead to the end of indefinite SHU terms and greater access to rehabilitative programs for prisoners, isolation in other ways still exists in prisons. Flying Kites offers readers vivid pictures as well as a poignant understanding of the overall living conditions for incarcerated people.

Appendix C: Interview with Charles Carbone offers extended commentary about what happened to many prisoners after the hunger strike ended.

Carbone concludes that systemic problems still exists, such as ending negative consequences from perceived associations with other incarcerated people that come from dubious or confirmed sources.

The United Nations has determined that keeping a person in solitary confinement more than 14 days amounts to torture.

Art aficionados seeking new perspectives from prison artists

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Oakland Museum

About a dozen San Francisco Bay Area art lovers in search of astonishing art ended up at San Quentin State Prison on August 21.

One of the visitors, Christine Lashaw, a curator at the Oakland Museum, says she’s interested in telling stories about incarceration. Her idea is to display San Quentin art in the Oakland Museum.

“How can we get people thinking and doing different things about the people in San Quentin?” Lashaw asked.

A curator at San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art, said that she’s looking for artists who currently have limited exposure to the art world, which brought her to San Quentin.

She talked about the 1940 murals produced by Diego Rivera as she stood in front of murals in the prison’s South Dining Hall that were painted by Alfredo Santos in the 1950s.

Santos won a prison art contest to paint a mural on one of the 100-foot-long dining hall walls and began painting in 1953. After completion of the first mural, prison officials decided to allow Santos to continue painting. He has generally been credited with all six 12-foot-high murals on the walls of the dining hall. It’s clear that some of the murals are the result of a community effort.

While on the tour, Tomoko noted the similarities between Rivera and Santos. She said that it’s clear that Santos drew on the work of Rivera.

In the arts studio Tomoko admired the work of incarcerated artists. “The art here is impeccable,” Tomoko said to the assembled artists. “It’s amazing to hear stories about people who have discovered their abilities and talents in prison.”

A representative from Pro Arts Gallery & Commons [located at 150 Frank H. Ogawa Plaza, Oakland, CA 94612] presented its publication, Pro Arts Commons, which aims to give readers an understanding of common spaces in Oak- land.

According to the Pro Arts Gallery & Commons newsletter, spaces for public gatherings have been steadily disappearing. “It is not accidental that the land and resources belonging to and affecting the whole community are being commodified.”

Some of the objectives of the organization include getting people to find new ways to reclaim public spaces as well as actively co-creating ideas, projects, programs, and published content.

Currently, Pro Arts Gallery & Commons also seeks material from San Quentin writers.

The tour ended with the outside artists and incarcerated artists agreeing to find ways for future collaborations.

Remembering another fallen brother: Robert Bruce Garrett

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The San Quentin community came together on Sept. 18 to pay tribute to the life of Robert Bruce Garrett, 69, who passed away July 30 after a long battle with cancer. He was born Feb- ruary 1, 1950.

Garrett, known to his friends as Lucky, leaves behind dozens of fellow men- in-blue, who said he was their barber. Others said they passed the day playing his favorite game, dominoes. Many more of his friends were in a Christian fellowship with him.

John “Gillie” Gillies be- came friends with Garrett at another prison and while at San Quentin shared a cell with him for seven years.

“When I first came to prison, he was there for me,” Gillies said. “He took me under his wing and showed me the ropes.” Gillies added, “He prayed a lot and always talked about Jesus – he’d read the Bible almost every night.”

Jimmy Carson who’s known Garrett for 37 years said, “I know Lucky is looking down on us.” Speaking about his friendship with Garrett in the free world, Carson added, “I met his brother. One night I had a ’55 Chevy, and we were riding around—we had the music up, enjoying the night.”

Carson talked about recon- necting with Garrett in prison about 15 years later.

“Lucky was at an AA meeting sharing, and I went up to him and said, ‘Are you Lucky?’ I said, ‘I’m Jimmy Carson.’ He said, ‘Boy you got fat,’ and I said, ‘You got old,’” which brought laughter in the chapel from about three dozen prisoners who sat with Linda and Louis Rise, church volunteers who teach a humility class.

“What a blessing Lucky was to Linda and myself,” Louis said. Referring to visit- ing Garrett in the hospital, he added, “We were totally taken aback from the love that was shown to Lucky from every- one, including the correctional officers.”

Kenny Rodgers did time with Garrett at Solano state prison.

“I knew him as a man of God and doing a lot of things for people,” Rodgers said. “I remember being on hard times, and he brought me a jar of coffee.”

Rodgers added, “He was comfortable with what was happening. It’s a joyous time to celebrate his life.”

Billy Dooley spent a lot of time with Garrett at San Quentin.

“I knew him as a man of God and doing a lot of things for people”

“This is real hard,” Billy said. “We used to play hand- ball. They called me Cinder Block—I’m short and fat, but he’d carry me to victory and tell me that I did that.” After some chuckles from the crowd he added, “He taught me how to pray and be serious.”

Billy then asked the audience to take a deep breath, let it out slowly and said a prayer for Garrett.

Here are other things said about Garrett from the men-in-blue:

Lucky was a faithful man to the study of God. He was just a real down to earth guy.

This is not a sad time. We had a good relationship. He had lots of conversations about how far the Lord has taken him.

We miss you cutting our hair in North Block. I know you’re up there cutting hair.

You were always loving and kind. You were always honest in your love for God. I will see you in heaven.

He was my barber. Lucky was a baseball fan. The only fault he had was he was a Dodgers fan.

He’d give me a buzz cut that should have taken two minutes, (but) because he’d talk about God and that’ll make it 15 minutes.

Lucky was an all-around good guy. He was my barber.

Lucky was a Christian. He loved to play dominoes. He’s up there having a blast.

We played dominoes on the yard. When I played against him, I’d try to get him off his game by talking about the Raiders.

Lucky’s favorite passage in the bible is Psalm 23. He espe- cially liked the last line.

Quentin Blues, led by Richie Morris (guitar and vocals), performed somber tunes as well as an original song writ- ten by Andrew “Boots” Hardy (guitar and vocals) with the hook, “Won’t you take my hand sweet Jesus, I’m finally coming home.”

The rest of Quentin Blues are Dwight Krizman (bass), Chris Thomas (mandolin and vocals), Mark Kinney (piano) and Joe Thurson (percussion).

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