San Quentin News

Written By Incarcerated - Advancing Social Justice

Pelican Bay’s new podcast ‘UNLOCKED’

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Pelican Bay’s UNLOCKED staff meets

Creators of a new Pelican Bay podcast look to build community and prisoner relationships—one story at a time, reported the Lost Coast Outpost. https://lostcoastoutpost.com/

“These guys just want to better themselves and create a stronger, more resilient, community,” said Paul Critz, a journalist who teaches inmate students the tools they need to record their personal stories.

Inspired by San Quentin’s Ear Hustle, https://www.earhustlesq.com/ Pelican Bay Prison’s https://www.cdcr.ca.gov/facility-locator/pbsp/ UNLOCKED became the first of its kind at a security level IV institution.

Created by Critz and about 30 incarcerated men, the podcast aims to bring together the men on the inside and to communicate with the residents of Del Norte and Crescent City.

“They’re Del Norters too, and they’re very interested in hearing from the community. They want interaction. They want to humanize themselves, “ said Critz.

Dubbed as the single most important project in his career, Critz uses a portable recorder, laptop and a hand-held microphone to show his students how to put together a narrative.

While given much room for choosing content, Pelican Bay’s Public Information officer John Silviera advised Critz not to “bash the institution.”

“There’s a lot of gray area all around that phrase,” Critz told the Outpost. “We have to figure out what that means because at what point does bashing your reality become bashing the institution that’s responsible for your reality?”

Critz credits what he calls “The Awakening” as the pivotal moment in Pelican Bay’s history that led to launching the podcast.

“The Awakening” refers to the 2015 Supreme Court decision that shut down Pelican Bay’s Security Housing Units in 2013, following a widespread series of hunger strikes that began at the prison.

Critz’ students chose “The Awakening” as the subject of their first podcast. “They wanted to talk about… the changes that have been happening at Pelican Bay and other prisons as a result.

“The real awakening is hope,” said Critz. “They’re able to think about a future, maybe getting out – certainly even with people who’ll never get out.”

Critz, experienced in freelance journalism and radio, is best known as the operator of Crescent City’s community radio station. He was tapped to head Pelican Bay’s UNLOCKED by Stephanie Wenning, former executive director of the Del Norte Association for Cultural Awareness.http://dnaca.net/

Of all the reviews Critz received, “The one that stands out the most,” he told the Outpost, was from the daughter of one of his students.

“I love listening to this podcast. It makes me happy to know my dad is doing something positive with his life. I can’t wait to hear more,” she said.

Storytellers polish their craft through the San Quentin News Journalism Guild

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Monica Campbell with the Spanish graduating class of 2020

The second annual San Quentin News Journalism Guild Graduation took place in the Garden Chapel on Jan. 17. Twelve graduates from November’s class combined with this current class of 11 to celebrate finishing the six-month course.

The event honored the graduates, recognized advisors and brought attention to the impact of programs like the guild on rehabilitation.

Richard “Bonaru” Richardson, SQ News’ Executive Editor and winner of the Arnulfo T. Garcia Leadership Award, spoke about the importance of the guild.

Having worked every position from print to layout to Editor-in-Chief, Richardson reflected how words began to change his life.

“At my last prison, a guy called me pessimistic, and I wanted to beat him up—even though I really didn’t know what the word meant,” said Richardson.

Inmates across the country can thank Richardson’s curiosity and intellect when he looked the word up and realized his own talent with words.

“Words mean a lot; we communicate with each other; we all have the ability to grow. Our newspaper allows people to grow—and will continue to do so,” said Richardson.

“Our graduates—know you were journalists before you picked up a pen. Remember, if no one tells your story, who will?” Richardson said. “Please use your voice; it’s the most powerful asset (weapon) you have.”

Lisa Adams, the newspaper’s development manager for two years, called her career journey from state and federal prison “empty, until I found my niche helping others.”

Adams is collaborating with Wells Fargo Bank executive Amanda Weitman to generate philanthropic donations for the news agency. “Inside and out, we give the world access to the understanding and awareness of social reform and its impact. This news agency reduces recidivism by giving hope to the incarcerated throughout the nation,” said the philanthropic executive.

Today, San Quentin News is a leading voice for incarcerated people in the country.

San Quentin News’ editor-in-chief, Marcus “Wali” Henderson, remarked upon the journalism program’s capacity to build bridges. “(SQ News and Wall City) journalists tell stories that people are afraid to tell.”

Henderson, who used to chair the Guild, then introduced keynote speaker Tracy Brumfield.

Brumfield has transformed from “a heroin addict in and out of jail and then prison” to founder of a women’s news agency called RISE.

She inspired the crowd, speaking about her addiction, “I’m beating its ass.” For the graduates she said, “The power of words—storytelling—includes talking about our journey. I found it extremely empowering to tell my journey…Write about what you know…your testimony!”

The Department of Juvenile Justice’s Ericka Mutchler celebrated the success of the incarcerated female population in California. Mutchler gave praise to Wall City’s third edition, which featured incarcerated females.

“The women featured on the back page of Wall City were my [juvenile] clients who co-wrote articles for the edition. I am pleased to announce all of them have been released with jobs,” said the counselor.

Henderson introduced former San Francisco prosecutor Marisa Rodriquez after he spoke about the social reform symposiums at San Quentin. The latest forum with the San Francisco Police Department was a “Blue on Blue forum [which] improved communication between law enforcement and incarcerated persons. It [forums] will allow us continue to build bridges that no one else can,” said Henderson.

In 2012, Rodriquez took a suggestion from her father to visit San Quentin.

“Now, I can’t shake this place,” said the former D.A. “It [the visit] was very, very moving, and I didn’t expect that. I shared the experience with my supervisor, San Francisco D.A. George Gascon.” She told Gascon there was something very special happening at San Quentin, and he needed to go in and see what was happening himself, if we are going to change justice.

Gascon’s office then collaborated with the late Arnulfo Garcia to create the first symposium. It focused on San Francisco Community Court prosecutors’ desire to investigate what drives youth to commit crimes.

The symposium was such a success, today the forums are a core of the news outlet’s brand.

Rodriquez said after Police Chief (Del Scott) brought in his team, it led to the creation of the nation’s first Formerly Incarcerated Advisory Board. The board includes San Francisco prosecutors and formerly incarcerated men and women, many of whom had life sentences before being paroled.

CDCR administrators who ensure accuracy and analysis for SQ News include), Terri Hardy, Krissi Khokhobashvili, and Ike Dodson. They received plaques of recognition and said, “No matter what happened in your past, who you are when you come out on the other side is what matters.” Henderson also praised the group of Wall City advisors in attendance. Kate McQueen, Sarah Horowitz, Doug Levy and Dan Fost represented the magazine’s advisory board of 12.

SQ Music and lyrics workshop attracts professionals

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Song Writing Workshop members perform for the incarcerated in the Catholic Chapel

Twelve songs, featuring music and lyrics written and performed by inmates at San Quentin turned the prison’s Catholic chapel into a concert hall in January.

Musicambia Composition Workshop was an intensive four-day event facilitated by the New York-based nonprofit Musicambia, the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, and the William James Association. It offered space for inmates to collaborate and compose original music.

Students and faculty from the Conservatory worked nonstop with Musicambia’s Brad Balliett to guide inmate artists through the process of creating music.

“From the minute I walked into this room, I knew we were going to have a great week,” said Balliett, a bassoonist, songwriter, composer and teaching artist.

Zoe Lee, SF Conservatory of Music

“I feel everyone benefits in the end,” said Matthew Gamboa, a conservatory student and electronic music producer, who plays jazz guitar, bass and piano. “It’s a learning experience that goes two ways.”

On the first day, inmate Jason “Jukebox” Griffin, 42, commented, “It would be cool to write music and connect with people.”

“I teach people how to sing,” said Matthew Worth, a faculty voice teacher at the conservatory, who led the workshop with vocal exercises.

“This is a song writing project,” said Balliett. “Our goal is to bring your ideas to life.”

He had the group begin by writing songs in groups. By the end of the first five-hour day everyone was writing “their” song.

One song, “No More,” emerged on day two. It packed the chapel with energy. Inmates Griffin and Quincy Paige, 32, wrote and performed the song together. The conservatory backed them to give the song weight that became heavier when Balliett came in on the keyboard.

Jim Turner showing off his key board skills

Paige said “No More” was inspired by a phone conversation that he overheard in prison.

“I can’t take it anymore,” the caller had said before slamming down the phone.

“This is the only joyful experience I’ve had in over three years,” said inmate Anthony Beamon, 38. “With this kind of collaboration — this is where music gets created.”

Inmate Dwight Krizman said that, despite the restrictions of prison, the workshop was “a place where the musical community of San Quentin can gather regardless of musical background, skill level and talent to come together and create.”

In an environment where many men self-segregate themselves, music is an equalizer and bonding agent. At the workshop it transcended boundaries between musicians and non-musicians, young and old, rapper and rocker, LGBTQ and straight, Asians, Whites, Blacks, Hispanics and others.

Men from all walks of life worked together on the song “On My Own.” The chorus told all their stories: “I am never so alone, than surrounded by broken souls…” Balliett worked as musical director on this tune and played the bassoon as Worth sang lead. Michail Thompson, a conservatory student, added a poignant sound with his trumpet.

“I’m excited about what we have to offer together,” Thompson had said on day one. His skill playing classical jazz added an unanticipated but bright layer of sound to the workshop’s music.

The guidance and encouragement from Musicambia, the conservatory and the talent displayed throughout the workshop revealed that prisoners can perform at professional levels in music and beyond.

“I’m really proud of everybody,” said Worth.

He said by day two people stepped on the stage with confidence and started to sing with authority.


Matthew Gomba, SF Conservatory of Music

“It was great to see the rough draft,” said Rachael S. a composer on faculty with the conservatory. “We’ve done so much work in two days, and there’s so much more to do.”

Rehearsals looked like scenes from American Idol as groups of performers and musicians gathered in the pews and in various corners of the chapel to collaborate. A cacophony of music and singing could be heard from all directions.

Underneath the inmates’ hard work were the dreams, struggles, aspirations and disappointments of confined men taking advantage of the opportunity to reconstruct broken pieces of a past life. In four days, the men were able to repair a small part of themselves and discover the talent lost or overlooked.

Everyone was serious, but notes, chords, charts, writing and vocal exercises could not contain the impulse of their creative nature. Following a break one afternoon, the men and the conservatory students performed an impromptu spiritual song.


Brad Balliett, Musicambia

Inmate Michael Adams led the groove and encouraged each musician to perform an improvised solo as he assumed the role of conductor. Conservatory students Gamboa, Thompson, Parsa Mirzaagha (guitar), Gavin Harris (drums), and inmate Mark Kinney all took turns showcasing their talent as they communicated with each other in a language only musicians understand.

Later, Adams and Beamon sang “I Can Feel Your Pain.” Adams delivered a soulful performance as he expressed “feeling all the world’s sorrow…”

As the workshop moved into the night, some conservatory students appeared drained and exhausted, but they hung on like professionals.

By day three, an official set list of songs was created for a concert the following evening.

“There’s going to be a lot of down time,” said Balliett. By then they were preparing for the show, but that didn’t stop the men from perfecting their songs.

Rehearsal moved quickly and once it was determined a song was on track the singers were stopped for the next group to take the stage.

On day four, Balliett said, “My worst nightmare is that we get to 8 p.m. and we have three songs left.”

The show started with Michail Thompson leading the charge with his trumpet on “Pattie’s Wish Dragon,” written by Ronnell “Rauch” Draper. The men sang a chorus that delivered an emotional message with rap and speech as the band accentuated the song.

“Believe it or not, on Monday morning that song did not exist,” said Balliett.

Inmate Richie Morris took the stage at San Quentin for the last time. “After 34 years in prison, the governor in his wisdom decided I can go home,” he said.

The song “Trying To Carry On” was a soulful piece written by Morris and performed previously.

Balliett played piano on “Grace Of God,” a song written by inmate Kahlifah. Rachael S. sang a soft verse and conservatory student Julio Cesar Martinez used the warmth of his deep baritone voice to sing the low end of the song. Inmate Gary Harrell played harmonica on the song, followed by conservatory students Zoe Jo-Yun Lee on cello and Luke Chiang on violin.

On the song “My Life,” Paige engaged the crowd, and they clapped to the beat as he rapped. The horn sounds were the most prevalent throughout the chapel as the percussion instruments held a steady beat.

The music and chorus to “When You Think About Me,” written and played on the piano by this author, sung by inmate Kerry Rudd, who wrote the verses, received an earnest show of appreciation.

The crowd seemed moved during “A Christmas Hallelujah,” especially when Thompson soloed on his trumpet. They applauded in the middle of the song to show their gratitude.

On “Free My Dogs” Luke Chiang steered the song with his violin. Inmate Thanh Tran, 26, sang before the band punched in, like a track triggered from the mixer, as people in the first three rows of pews stood, bounced and applauded.

Derry ”Brotha D” Brown and the choir performed “Everybody Needs Love” to end the night and leave everyone in a serene and thoughtful mood.

“This was awesome,” said Brown. “Hookin’ up with the San Francisco Conservatory of Music was an inspiration. I never worked with my vocals, but meeting Matt (Worth) helped me exercise my vocals so I could fluctuate my range. He assured me I was on the right track.”

“This is my first time playing rock and jazz,” said Lee.

“It’s a different genre for us,” said Chiang. “The energy in here was fantastic – not your typical audience.”

“We started talking about (doing) this in 2018,” said Rachael S. “We didn’t know where or what, but it’s been a long time coming.”

“I’ve been amazed at how Brad (Balliett) and the group have been collaborating,” said Carol Newborg, Program Manager for Arts in Corrections at San Quentin. “It’s been really high quality and seemed to involve everyone.”

“I had so much fun tonight watching everyone perform,” said Rachael S. “I’m really grateful people made time and space for us.”

“I couldn’t believe it,” said inmate Bill Harwood, 65. “Three days got us here, and it lifted the roof off this place.”

“It was very inspiring,” said inmate Larry Williams, 54. “I loved it, and everybody did so good. My heart feels so much better. I can sleep good tonight.”

“It’s my hope that Musicambia will come back here,” said Balliett.

The crowd cheered him on, applauding their endorsement for him and the conservatory to return to California’s oldest prison.

Rock guitarist Craig Bartock shares his talent in prison

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Guitarist Craig Bartock

Rock guitarist Craig Bartock, who plays for the band Heart, earned a star for com- ing to prison. In December he visited the Thursday afternoon guitar workshop sponsored by the William James Association and taught by Kurt Huget.

One of the many treats participants get out of attending the guitar workshop is meeting great musicians like Bartock, who gave the men ad- vice and showed them a few tricks on the guitar.

“The most important part of playing the guitar is having fun,” Bartock said to the nine students in attendance. Their skill levels ranged from beginner to advanced. “Just enjoy playing the guitar is the best thing I can tell you.”

The class and Huget strummed chords to the song “Let The Good Times Roll,” and Bartock joined in casually, firing off lead guitar licks and improvised rhythms. Af- terword, he answered a variety of questions.

“I’m a Fender Tele-Strat kind of guy,” said Bartock, when asked what kind of gui- tars he plays. “I prefer play- ing electric guitar.” Then he showed the class a few more licks as he played an Arts in Corrections black Fender Squire Stratocaster through a small Fender amplifier that he dialed in to get the tones needed to make his impres- sion.

“I use a Vox AC 30 amplifier,” said Bartock. “I think they’re like the perfect amplifier for rock.” His taste in instruments and equipment comes from playing guitar for what he said has been more than 50 years.

Bartock didn’t look old enough to be a musician for half a century; dressed in a black hoodie, black shirt, black pants, brown boots wearing tinted glasses that matched his brown hair. His years playing easily connects importance of a guitar’s “action” (the height of the strings from the fret board) and the gauge of strings when performing. He said he uses medium strings (9 to 11 gauge) on electric guitar but heavy and medium can vary from electric to acoustic guitar.

“You can never go wrong playing on an acoustic because it builds up your fingers,” said Bartock. He said he plays a 12-string acoustic guitar, and when touring he takes 14 guitars on the road with him that are cared for by a guitar technician, who keeps them tuned and maintains his amplifiers.

Bartock explained alternate guitar tunings like drop-D tuning (D, A, D, G, B, E) and double drop-D tuning (D, A, D,G,B,D).Thenheuseda ball point pen to demonstrate how to play slide guitar blues songs using those tunings. He said musicians Richie Havens and Joni Mitchell use these al- ternate tunings.

One of the students asked about the hit song “Barracuda” by Heart. Bartock answered the question by showing the class how to play

the opening galloping rhythm of the song using the “power chords” E, F sharp, and G ending on two harmonics. He explained the usefulness of bar chords and variations of them on the neck of the guitar.

Huget discussed some of the songs the class was working on. Then the class and Huget played “The Joker” by the Steve Miller Band, followed by “Ram- blin’ Man” by the Allman Brothers as Bartock played lead guitar.

his longevity to the time when rock legends such as Jimi Hendrix, Led Zepplin and The Rolling Stones ruled the airwaves.

“I got so excited about the class today, I almost forgot to sign in,” said Louis Calvin whose been play- ing guitar for al- most two years.

Because some of the men in the workshop were beginning guitar students, Bartock discussed the im-

The questions kept coming, and at one point Bartock was asked to repeat a lick he did in passing on the song “The Wind Cries Mary” by Hendrix. He also demonstrated how Hendrix used his thumb to play bass lines on chords to get a unique sound from bar chords leaving the G string to ring open.

When asked about play- ing the bass, Bartock said “The best thing to do is lock in with the drummer.” Huget then played a blues rhythm on the guitar as Bartock played a bass line to demonstrate for the class.

Bartock’s visit turned out to be a crash course in equipment, guitar playing and on-the-road touring with other bands. He discussed audiences, monitor mixes, the loudness of music during shows and how “so many mu- sicians are almost deaf.”

“It’s like three companies coming together for a show and going their separate ways,” Bartock said when de- scribing a tour. “Sometimes you don’t hear the audience” with the in-ears headphones, he said adding, “It’s really easy to let your mind wan- der,” but “You can save your hearing so much better.”

“It’s a real pleasure to have him come in and share his talent,” said Huget, who oc- casionally brings in guests to inspire the men.

Bartock was cool and laid back. Unlike some newer young artists, he wasn’t pre- tentious and didn’t put on any airs. Over the decades, he’s seen it all. It wasn’t his first time visiting San Quentin. He’s performed at shows here with the organization Bread & Roses.

“Hey, man, I love it,” said Bartock. “I’ll be back.”

Inspirational entertainer urges others to claim their unique identity

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The Boxer Joe Orrach showing his tap-dancing skills

Finding your unique voice and identity is important for everyone, boxer-tap dancer Joe Orrach illustrated for a San Quentin Prison audience.

The show encouraged in- carcerated people to tell their own stories as part of their re- habilitation, making the show more than just entertainment for San Quentin residents.

Nearly 100 people made up the audience in the Protestant Chapel on Dec. 13 for the program titled In My Corner.

Orrach told his story with a combination of boxing moves and tap dancing, reflecting his past as Air Force welterweight boxing champion turned professional tap dancer.

He narrated, danced and mimed his authentic tale of growing up in the Bronx, the son of a Puerto Rican father and an Italian American mother. The dominant themes in Orrach’s progression from boyhood to young man were boxing, dancing, and his struggle to gain the approval of his hard-to- please father.

The show began with Orrach jumping rope on a raised wooden platform, tapping out a beat each time the rope arced over his head. The slap of the rope against the wood blended with the tapping. “I loved when he was able to incorporate his jump rope into his tap rhythm,” said San Quentin resident Loren Mears.

As the story progressed, the boxing theme continued, with Orrach punching a speed-bag to a smooth jazz beat.

Mears smiled when he recalled this part of the act, “What really impressed me were his speed-bag skills,” Mears said. “Every time he threw a punch, his whole body was in it. You could tell he was a very good boxer.”

“I had never seen anyone act out his whole life all by himself,” said Mears.

The former boxer appeared to be in fight condition as he moved vigorously, without breaks, throughout the 75-minute show.

Orrach reported it was through his boxing that he ultimately gained his father’s approval. That breakthrough came on the night of his first fight, which he pantomimed for his San Quentin audience. Knocked down three times in the first round, he came back to win the fight in the second.

Orrach punching the speed bag

He retired from boxing after five years and moved on to a successful career in dance. As a young boxer, he had been encouraged to study ballet by his trainer. He ultimately found his dancing niche in tap, touring inter- nationally and dancing with greats like Gregory Hines.

At one performance, Hines was in attendance. In a tribute to Orrach, Hines “threw his shoes on the stage,” said Orrach’s script writer, Lizbeth Hasse.

On stage with Orrach were composer and keyboard player Matthew Clark and percussionist Dan Gonzalez. They skillfully blended their supporting sounds with Orrach’s movement and narrative.

Pauses in the act were consistently met with applause and the audience frequently broke into laughter.

Orrach told his story with humor, passion, and intensity in English (with a Bronx accent) and in Spanish.

When he lapsed into Spanish, it invariably evoked laughter from Spanish-speaking audience members, who seemed to share an inside joke. Bilingual audience member Luis Figuera confirmed that Orrach was indeed sharing some good-natured fun with his fellow Spanish speakers.

A promotional flyer explained that “Orrach and his team work to illustrate the challenges and importance of finding one’s unique voice and identity.”

Orrach has presented the show in a juvenile facility, but this was the first performance in an adult prison.

After the show, audience members responded with a standing ovation and lined up to shake Orrach’s hand, thank him, and praise the performance.

Orrach, perspiring heavily from the intensity of the performance, looked like a boxer after a fight.

Orrach and friends at San Quentin

World renowned magicians tour and perform at SQ

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Kayla Drescher reveals Brandon Riddell-Terrell gets no “date”

An international squad of escape artists, grand illusionists, mind readers and tricksters descended on San Quentin State Prison for a special Nov. 26 performance right before Thanksgiving.

Set to make their Broadway San Francisco debut later that night, Champions of Magic chose to first visit SQ and dazzle prisoners with theatrical wizardry and humor.

“On paper, I’m sure a room full of 300-plus criminals seems terrifying,” said Los Angeles magician Kayla Drescher. “But we didn’t view anyone we met as their crime or their number.

“We were just happy to meet and perform for a great audience of human beings.”

The British duo Young and Strange opened the SQ show with their original signature illusion.

Mentalist Alex McAleer reading Brian Holliday‘s mind

“We weren’t sure what equipment to bring inside the prison,” said Richard Young. “We came up with this trick when we were two broke teenagers—nothing but cardboard and some sharp wood.”

With a bit of slapstick and comedic flare, Sam Strange got Young squeezed into a standard-looking cardboard box.

“Caution—Heavy Load,” Strange read the label, taking a jab at his partner’s somewhat portly girth.

Sam Strange puts Richard Young into a box Strange thrusts wooden spears through the cardboard box Strange removes all the spears and Young comes out Kayla Drescher revealing one of the four “date” cards with volunteers

Strange then thrust 17 spears, one after another, straight through the box from all sides. Young’s hand popped out the top—waving a white flag in surrender.

Strange drove one last spear smack down the center, a maniacal grin across his face. The standing-room-only chapel crowd “oohed” in amazement at how Young could be in there.

Young gladly emerged after Strange pulled each and every stick out. It was clear the holes left behind went through-and-through.

Mentalist Alex McAleer, another Brit, took the stage next. “I don’t read palms or talk to the dead,” he said. “I talk to the living.”

He selected Tony DeTrinidad and Brian Holliday from the audience.

“I can see you wondering, ‘How can this British guy read my mind? Will it hurt?’”

McAleer turned his back to each prisoner while they answered specific questions on slips of paper. DeTrinidad was asked to think of one simple word.

Holliday wrote down the name of someone he cared about. “Put some other personal information about them on there, too,” said McAleer. “Not too fast—nice and slowly for me. I’m a performer. I’m very needy.”

The answers were placed in envelopes and sealed behind McAleer’s back then handed to Tommy Wickerd in the front row.

McAleer soon voiced DeTrinidad’s word choice—“pasta.” Wickerd tore open the envelope to confirm it.

McAleer then focused on Holliday. “This is a bit more difficult. Close your eyes,” he told him. “I can tell you’re picturing it. The name starts with a ‘K.’ Am I right? And I think you gave the age, too.”

The mind reader then told the crowd about Holliday’s 21-year-old sister, Karen.

“I’m still trying to figure out how he did it. There’s no way he saw me writing any of that stuff,” Holliday said later. “Guys on the yard keep asking me if I was in on the trick.”

Fernando Velasco, the 21-year-old magician from El Grullo, Mexico, was up next.

“There’s a number of things you need to be an escape artist,” he said.

From her front row seat, Lisa Strawn volunteered to help bind Velasco securely with plastic wrap and duct tape.

“Don’t worry—I got this,” said Strawn. “I’ll make sure he’s good and tight.”

The other magicians began raising a four-sided curtain, yet almost instantly Velasco stopped them before they could finish. He’d gotten free—with the plastic and tape all still hanging there intact.

“The single most important thing you need to escape is luck. Lots of luck,” said Velasco, surrounded by applause.

Drescher’s expressive eyes set the tone for her boisterous, cheeky performance. Reliving her teenage days as a policeman’s daughter, she called “three young gentleman” from their seats to compete for a date.

“No way. That’s the name of the guy I went on my first date with,” she said coyly after asking Brandon Riddle-Terrell his first name. “Ooh, and look at those big muscles—just like him, too.”

Each man answered questions, trying to merit the one sealed envelope out of four with a “date” card inside. “Sorry, you didn’t pass my dad’s background check,” Drescher said, dismissing them one by one.

The crowd sat in anticipation, enjoying Drescher’s personality as much as her magic. Of course, the “date” card remained in the final envelope that no guy could obtain.

Young and Strange closed the short set by having the entire audience participate in a final illusion. Asking everyone to put their hands together and interlock their fingers, the pair demonstrated the same.

Lisa Strawn wrapping Fernando Velasco in plastic

“This is crazy, but we’re going to totally blow your minds,” said Strange. “Lock your fingers up tight—and don’t let go.”

In front of everybody, they asked the participants to twist their hands around without releasing. Young and Strange accomplished the feat easily, but no one else could unravel from the awkward position.

The true magic, however, may have taken place after the performance. The four magicians, along with their producer Alex Jarrett and Broadway SF’s Scott Walton, received their own special tour of SQ’s North Block, Death Row and Main Chow Halls.

“My cast mates and I are really passionate about politics, documentaries, etc.,” Drescher told SQNews. “I remember watching, with my dad, trials of some of the people whose cells we passed on Death Row.

“That was an amazing experience, but also understanding that the justice and prison system in this country is… well… a mess. I was excited to learn from people who’ve experienced it firsthand.”

When Champions of Magic were inside North Block, Jerry Drawhorn, barely at SQ for two weeks, had to tell them what it meant to catch their chapel performance.

“I’ve never seen a magic show in prison,” said Drawhorn, incarcerated for the last 26 years. “Being down all these years around bad, ugly, evil—it’s hard to keep your humanity when you’re around stuff like that 24/7.

“I’ll always attend beautiful events like this because it keeps me grounded—keeps me going without going crazy.”


Sam Strange puts Richard Young into a box

While in Chicago on the next leg of their tour, Drescher and Jarrett both emailed about the visit’s impact on Champions.

“San Fran shows were good, but I can honestly say we all enjoyed our performance with you more,” said Jarrett. “We’ve told many people what a positive experience it was for us. I hope it will inspire other performers to make themselves available if permitted.”

Drescher added, “Growing up with a dad that’s a police officer, you’d think I would view criminals as ‘bad guys.’ I was lucky to learn from him that one bad decision doesn’t mean someone is a horrible human. The visit to San Quentin certainly showcased all of that.

“Later that night [in San Francisco] was the first time in a while our show hadn’t gotten a standing ovation. I just yelled from the stage, ‘THEY STOOD FASTER IN SAN QUENTIN!’

“We’d do a show for all of you every day if we could — haven’t stopped talking about how lucky we are to have had this experience.”

Bread & Roses perform for Death Row

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Entire concert was videotaped for Death Row viewing

Prisoners and outside guest Tony Saunders played a concert for the 700-plus men housed on the world’s largest Death Row inside San Quentin State Prison.

More than 30 prisoners from the general population did musical performances in the prison’s Catholic Chapel, but due to the security level of those on Death Row they were not allowed to attend. Instead, the entire concert was videotaped by the men who work in the prison’s media center.

“Keep your head up and believe in better days,” said Allison Watson. He spent 31 years on Death Row before his sentence was overturned. He’s now serving his sentence in the prison’s general population.

The diverse show opened with a rap performance by Rasheed Zinnamon, who was well received by the unusually high attendance of more than 100 prisoners and a few volunteers during the broadcast of a Sunday night football game.

“We are Banda Esperanza, and we send our regards to our brothers and sisters on Death Row,” the band leader said.

The all-Hispanic band was joined by the audience with claps as the men sang, played three guitars, bass and drums. A loud roar, applause and whistling from the crowd followed their performance.

“I’m grateful to the administration for letting us have the music,” one of the band members said before they performed. They were Jose Diaz, Martin Y. Vincente Gomez, Jose Vieyra, Senor Figueroa, Guadalupe Aranda and Adriel Ramirez.

“Tonight is all inclusive as you can tell,” said Lisa Starbird of the organization Bread & Roses, which sponsored the event. Starbird looked for men willing to say on the microphone what they were grateful for. “If you’re not involved in some kind of program (at San Quentin), there’s something out there for you.”

“Christ and Me Arrived” was performed by members of the Catholic Chapel Choir that included the music, lyrics and harmony of Gino Sevacos, Dwight Krizman, Rick Evans, Daniel Lee, John Krueger, Kelvin Ross, Bill Harwood and Alan Brown.

“I’m grateful to Bread & Roses for bringing us the gift of music,” a prisoner in the audience said. “One love!” he shouted out to the men on Death Row.

“We all support you and send our love,” a prisoner named Dennis said to the men on Death Row.

“I’m grateful for the blood and resurrection of Jesus Christ,” said another prisoner.

The jazz band Free Fall, consisting of Greg “D” Dixon (guitar), Lee “Jazz” Jaspar (bass),

Mark Kinney (piano) and Dwight Krizman (drums) performaned a convincing selection that sealed its dominance as the go-to jazz ensemble.

Jaspar played the bass effortlessly as Dixon picked notes on the guitar and scatted note-for-note, in key with the music. As the music pushed on, each musician locked in and improvised with each other. They received a standing ovation.

A small technical problem with the audio stopped the show for about a minute, so Starbird improvised by passing the microphone around to give others an opportunity to speak about gratitude. The comments kept pouring out as the men encouraged the men on Death Row to stay positive.

“There’s always hope,” a prisoner in the audience said. “I thank God for the mercy He has shown me. We can all make better choices and be better people.”

Starbird thanked the SQ media team for coming out to cover the event because it was a Sunday night, which typically receives little media coverage.

The band Quentin Blue performed a number of songs including an original tune called “Chamba’s Mountain.” It had a country vibe as singer Richie Morris and the rest of the men sang backup and played three guitars, piano, bass, mandolin and percussion instruments.

The ensemble was made up of Morris, Dwight Krizman, Joe Thureson, Bill Harwood, Andrew “Boots” Hardy, Ray Simpson and Chris Thomas.

“That was one of the funest gigs I ever played,” said Simpson, who played guitar.

Later, Starbird introduced Tony Saunders. She said he’s “pretty amazing” for all the things he does like coming in to the prison to help. She also expressed gratitude to Father George Williams for allowing them to use the chapel for the event.

Saunders said he was happy to be able to play for the men on Death Row. “Know that you’re thought of,” he reminded them. “Don’t think that nobody notices.”

Using prerecorded music tracks on the first song, played over the chapel PA system, Saunders played the bass lines on his custom-made five-string bass. The melody of the song could easily be identified by his phrasing on the bass. He made the instrument speak to the audience. Then he used his voice to scat with every note as he thumped and plucked the instrument to the delight of the crowd.

“Don’t try this in your cells alone,” Saunders said with a big smile.

Then he did a solo and didn’t spare any tricks as he made the bass growl. His fingers crisscrossed every octave of the bass fret board. Then he played “Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix as the audience clapped before he returned to his R&B, jazz improvised solo. The crowd applauded and shouted.

An appropriate song selected and performed for the men on Death Row was Saunder’s song “Always Thinking About You” from his 2016 album Uptown Jazz, produced by Saunders and Larry Batiste on the label SFRecords.

The show didn’t end there. Jaspar, Krizman and Saunders performed an improvised piece that sounded like they’ve been playing together for years. Krizman led with a drum rhythm as Saunders and Jaspar followed on bass and piano, respectively. Saunders’ facial expressions let everyone know he was into the music.

“Two years ago, he (Jaspar) taught me some stuff,” said Saunders of the first time they played together. He said that performance lasted about 40 minutes because they had so much fun.

After Saunders and friends, The Prodigal Sons took the stage by storm with a memorable gospel sounding piece. They were Michael Kirkpatrick, Greg Thompson, Calvin “Sincere” Carter, Michael Bootae and Derry “Brother-Dee” Brown. The lyrics and harmony were inspiring as the men sang: “Well, I went to the church last night, and my heart felt alright, ‘cause Jesus got a hold on me.”

The audience clapped and sang along as they performed this gospel/spiritual piece. No matter what one’s faith, this song was very moving – reminiscent of civil rights freedom songs and marches for civil rights — think Eyes on The Prize. Their harmony was magic, and the crowd stood up and applauded to let them know it.

After the show, volunteer Molly Kittle said, “I was struck by the love in the room. The quality of how every man – performers and audience – chose to use their voice to lift all of us higher.”

“I love rap, ‘80s music, and gospel,” said volunteer and guest Katie Burke. “The concert started with rap and ended with ‘80s and gospel, so I was happy. Thanks to all the musicians and to the camera people who covered the event.”

Recording the “Concert for Death Row” was the SQTV video crew of Brian Asey, Eric “Phil” Phillips, Jerry Welsh, Jaspar (show producer), Joshua Burton, and supervisor Skyler Brown.

The full concert will appear on San Quentin’s institutional television channel in the coming weeks.

Red Hoop drumming group brings sounds of life to SQ Pow Wow

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Participants surrounding the Red Hoop drummers celebrated the unity of the human family

The Nevada Red Hoop drumming group brought the sounds of life to San Quentin’s Native American Group Annual Fall Pow Wow. The thumping sounds of traditional drumming filled the prison’s visiting room, blending with the scent of sage, circle dancing and chanting from the outside spiritual elders.

The pulsating drumbeats simulate the rhythm of a heartbeat, which represents the sign of life, be it from man or animal, according some Native traditions.

Heredia, Polanco, Sr. delivering the opening prayer at the ceremony

“The drum is alive — just as any human being is,” said Martin Montgomery, one of the Red Hoop drummers. “An animal gave its life for this drum – and the wood to produce the heartbeat sound.

“The drums and our traditional songs have the ability to change emotions and they have made their way to us today,” added Montgomery.

The Nov. 15, sacred event celebrated the unity of the human family and its connections through the heart.

The Red Hoop group consists of more than 20 drummers, but only three were able to make the trip, due to rescheduling of the ceremony. The group consisted of Montgomery, Ivan Julianto and Brandon Heredia, the son of the Native American Group’s chaplain.

The trio chanted each song energetically as they uniformly pounded the large drum. The more than 75 incarcerated participants and volunteers swayed and stepped dance throughout the event in ceremonial circles symbolizing the infinity of life.

The dancing and singing is part of the spiritual healing led by the sacred instrument.

Gregory “White Eagle” Coates and Straight Dancer regalia

“The elders and drummers coming in helps us learn more about our ways as a people,” said Dennis “Wolf” Gilbert, incarcerated participant. “They show us that we are not hated but loved and not forgotten.

“It keeps us on the Red Road (spiritual road.) I want to raise my grandson in our ways,” Gilbert added.

Montgomery can relate to this statement. His father was incarcerated in a Nevada prison.

“Your family needs you. And that’s spoken from a kid who grow up while his father was incarcerated,” said Montgomery. “My father shared a lot of stories about how the system changed him. He wanted to give us an alternative and he taught us the drums – learning our culture help save us,” added Montgomery.

Native American Adviser Hector Frank Heredia smudging the visiting room in preparation fo the ceremony

Montgomery credits his father for starting Red Hoops. The group name comes from his grandfather who found a horse, back in the day, with a red hoop around its eye. The horse used to do tricks such as: dancing and bowing.

The grandfather thought it was from a circus or something. So he began asking the people in the surrounding area whose horse it was. No one seem to claim it.

“Being here is like coming full circle,” said Montgomery. “It makes you feel grateful. What my father learned in prison he passed on to us, now I’m sharing it with these men.”

The drum is one of the major parts of Native life. The songs and drum rhythms are passed down through the grandparents or elders. Most of the Native drummers are versatile in Southern and Northern tribal drum rhythms. The drums are used for tribal marriages, prayers and calling people together.

After the opening purification ceremony, where the participants wipe themselves with the smoke from the burning sage, the guests mixed with the Native group to perform the ritual Grand Opening Dance.

Everyone left the visiting room; the men formed one line and women made another one. The two groups danced and stepped their way back into the room to create two circles around the drums.

“The women dance closer to the drums, because they are our hearts,” said Gregory “White Eagle” Coates, San Quentin resident and Sun Dancer. “The men are on the outer rings, because they are the protectors.”

Montgomery paused the drumming and ask some guests to come up and form two rows of seven people. He asked each person to make a rhythm with their bodies; some made sound with their mouths, snap fingers, clapped hands and beat sounds on their bodies.

Then Montgomery had everyone do his or her sound in unison creating an ensemble of music.

“We are all relatives. We all represent that rhythm of the heartbeat, and that was shown in the music we created together,” said Montgomery. “If we can see each other as human beings the world would be a better place.”

The spiritual ceremony ended with traditional food and strong loving words from visiting elder Lee Polanco, Sr. 81, who was a former San Quentin corrections officer and chaplain.

“I seen two of my sons go to prison, and that hurts as a parent. I buried a lot of people, so doing this prayer work is not a game for me,” said Polanco. “I come here because I love these guys, be it the men-in-blue or green.

“I will tell the guys in blue don’t ever give up – it’s never to late learn. I hope you get out and never come back,” he concluded.

The healing power of drama therapy

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Hamilton cast and crew posing on SQ Plaza

People might think Marin Shakespeare at SQ simply provides prisoners the opportunity to display their acting talent—but there’s a whole lot more to it.

The program actually bases its core principles around the rehabilitative benefits of drama therapy. Suraya Keating and Marianne S. facilitate the weekly workshops and are both professionally licensed therapists.

“We basically use the tools from theater arts to grow, transform and heal our lives,” said Keating. “When we come together to create a performance, we’re giving each other the space to share our authentic selves.

“To be seen and heard openly, we start to reveal our unique strengths, vulnerabilities and wounds.”

Each SQ theater cycle consists of first performing a Shakespeare play, and then revisiting some of the same themes through originally written “parallel” pieces. That’s where the significant therapeutic work takes place.

“The men get to share their own stories and reach into their own creativity,” said Marianne S. “They discover how to express their own truths.

“Then to actually perform this in front of an audience, they get the chance to directly affect people through their expressions of vulnerability.”

Drama therapy graduate students from the California Institute of Integral Studies (CIIS) spend a full cycle working with the SQ troupe. The immersive internship, called a “pre-practicum,” provides ample hands-on experience toward their Master’s.

The last cycle’s two students, Geno Creese and Daphne Ong, culiminated their pre-practicums by performing alongside their incarcerated colleagues Oct. 11.

A professional actor, Ong said she’d reached a point in her career where she felt she needed to reevaluate her future. Drama therapy seemed the natural answer.

“I’d always felt the therapeutic effects of performance art in my own theater experiences,” said Ong. “My work at SQ confirmed what I felt. What haven’t I learned here?

“I got to really engage—not just from an academic point of view, but to really see it in action and actively help people.”

Creese spent four years in Los Angeles pursuing his dreams of acting, but, just like Ong, he said he knew there was something lacking.

“I didn’t just want to be an actor. I wanted to heal and help others heal,” said Creese. “I wanted to share my own experience of healing through performance.

“Seeing all the beauty, joy and light within these guys every week, it really renewed in me the value of community—of a chosen family. It’s something I’ll carry with me.”

Keating first discovered her passion for drama therapy during her own graduate studies in 2005. Like Creese, Ong and many other CIIS students since then, Marin Shakespeare gave her a platform to nurture her craft.

“I’m super proud and touched by the courage, the openheartedness and spirit of support amongst our group,” said Keating. “For me, or any other facilitator, it’s good modeling.

“As we workshop and assume these character roles, it helps us examine what we ourselves struggle with being human.”

Keating splits her Marin Shakespeare duties between SQ and also CMF—where she said she enjoys working primarily with youths.

After already establishing a career in advertising, theater and film, Marianne S. said she went back to school late in life and reinvented herself.

“I was trying to figure out how I could be more of service, and I saw this beautiful program inside San Quentin,” she said. “Working with Suraya, I noticed right away how powerful trust is in this process.

“Men of different races and cultures coming together to put on work done for 400 years. These guys always show up for each other—that’s where all the trust comes in.”

Performances spark emotions and raise awareness

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The Oct. 23 performance of Marin Shakespeare at the San Quentin chapel featured another series of original parallel plays—inspired this time by The Winter’s Tale.

David Gadley started things off by illustrating the inner turmoil caused by overdose and an unavoidable drug test in Making Better Choices, before Jason Griffin examined the trauma of childhood abuse in A Hiding Place.

“I remember bruised faces, my mother pulling my hair—I remember myself,” SQ volunteer Chérie McNaulty said later about the powerful images Griffin’s poem evoked in her as she listened from the audience.

Seeing McNaulty noticeably shaken by his performance, Griffin immediately went to sit by her side in the pews after his reading.

“He was concerned about my emotions, but I told him that’s all part of the healing,” she said.

Derby Brown and Raiveon Wooden joined forces for Lethal vs. The Gruesome 3, which dealt with the frustrations that lead to mental crises and suicidal thoughts.

“Hey Mr. Suicide, why would you get those kids to take their own lives?” Brown voiced.

Then Belize Villafranco inspired everyone to get up and move around with his Healing Song. Audience members stood, clapped in rhythm and soon formed a conga line, weaving back and forth from the stage and into the pews.

Kerry Rudd next brought the crowd back to a contemplative mood with his play, Stay Greedy… or Make Amends? It told the story of a robbery crew that eventually returns the stolen loot to its owner.

Chris Thomas sang Remembering How To Breathe and enlisted Billingsley to pantomime a physical interpretation center stage. Then Billingsley performed his own Mind Yo Biz 2, a play about resolving old jealousies.

In his Freedom of Expression in the Midst of Oppression, Brown rejoiced through a chorus of “I’m rollin’ with Jesus—I’m rollin’ with Jesus.”

An institutional recall for prisoners in SQ’s H-Unit interrupted the show midway at 11:10 am. Performers housed in those dormitories were required to leave the chapel and report back to the unit.

Despite the unexpected shuffle of performances, Jessie Ayers’ Transitions hit a home run with its message of prejudice transformed into acceptance. Ayers drew from the observed discomfort some SQ prisoners hold against transwomen prisoners.

“How does a dude one day all of a sudden wake up and decide he’s a chick?” said Ayers in character—deriding a group of trans prisoners who simply said “hi” to him.

Suraya Keating and Kate Brickley played speaking roles as part of the trans group. They were joined on stage by SQ’s own Adriel Ramirez and Nah.na Reed.

“How do you call yourself a Christian?” Brickley’s character responded when Ayers attempted to cite the Bible as proof against transgenders. “I’m not your bro.”

“There’s only two rules in my house, honey—if you don’t fight it, I won’t bite it,” Keating’s pigtailed trans character chimed in to continue heckling Ayers.

The play shifted scenes to a full year later, when Ayers’ character encounters Brickley’s at a Christmas banquet. “Don’t act like I don’t see you all the time on the tier,” he tells her, referring to them being housed near each other in the same building.

“You see me… do you know what it means to just hear you say those words?” responds Brickley, starting to cry. “You see me.”

They end up shaking hands and wishing each other a Merry Christmas—all to huge rounds of standing applause.

To make up for some of the performers lost to the H-Unit recall, John Ray Ervin, Sr. gave an impromptu reading of original poetry. “This is live theater, y’all,” he said.

Richie Morris, who was recently found suitable for parole after 34 years behind bars, had 20 fellow prisoners join him onstage to face the audience.

Each person took the microphone to speak of his convicted offense aloud, along with his sentence and the number of years he’d already served.

“That’s 339 years total between us,” said Morris. “I want you to wrap your head around that—if you can.”

On that note, Morris and Quentin Blue closed the show with their song, The Last Mile.

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