One Bonehead Name

Inside a womens-prison forum on recidivism with Sharif and Nutter.


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Published: Apr 11, 2007

In many ways, the setting bespoke a grammar-school all-purpose room. The institutionally beige walls. The six basketball hoops along the perimeter. The fold-out cafeteria tables resting atop a gray, knee-high stage for a guest speaker.

Yet it would be impossible for anybody to think they were in a happy home of education.

The road here leads through a canyon of razor-sharp barbed-wire fences. Behind those fences sit foreboding buildings complete with tiny slivers that supposedly double as windows. At the end of a winding drive, the walk into the room is incomplete until one passes though a metal detector, indulges a pat-down (so intrusive that tissues are searched for contraband), and tiptoes through two huge security doors into a hallway where another stop-and-frisk awaits.

It's not that these measures are overkill. This is, after all, a prison — the Riverside Correctional Facility for female offenders on State Road — and no prison can be effective without some intimidation. Even if the building is adorned by a massive mural and hosts poetry classes.

Still, on Tuesday night, two decades since Raising Arizona first made it perfectly clear that "repeat offender" is an unpretty, "bonehead" name, the air inside was not one of desperation. The roughly 125 female inmates who took places in perfectly lined rows of plastic chairs were pretty lucky. It's not every day that pols come into their house (of corrections) seeking support.

Yet there the ladies were, under the guards' watchful eyes, donning their blue standard-issue shirts and wristbands complete with their picture and identifying bar code, for a "Mayoral Candidate Voting Rights Forum," a first-of-its-kind event hosted by the prison system and several ex-offender advocacy groups.

The idea? A good one. No crime in letting these women know that, if they're not felony convicts, they're still enfranchised. In all, some 400 of the 700-plus inmates here are eligible to vote; some 60 percent of the inmates have yet to go to trial.

But — and no pun intended — the execution? Not as good. Despite an open invitation to all candidates, only Sharif Street and Michael Nutter, neither of whom thinks a cell block represents a race-deciding voting bloc, deemed it important enough to attend. ("If I were you," noted the moderator, the Daily News' Elmer Smith, "I would not forget who showed up to see you today.")

To varying degrees of import, each candidate has said tackling recidivism is key to losing the Killadelphia tag. There's Bob Brady's "Break the Cycle" plan to "cut recidivism rates dramatically over a five-year period" by, among other things, hiring more parole officers. And Dwight Evans' boast that his 1990 boot-camp legislation helped cut down on repeat offenses. And Chaka Fattah's call, in his Gun-Safe Philadelphia plan, for the faith-based community to help with reintegration. And Tom Knox's fighting-addiction policy that claims he "believes in second chances."

Such a wide array of appro-aches is fitting since there's no commonly accepted strategy on how best to curb recidivism; the first study into the effectiveness of transitional jobs launched in Chicago last October. (Results aren't expected until 2009.)

So Street, who isn't even running for mayor, took to the stage first and, noting he's often accompanied his father on his annual New Year's Day prison visits, was met by hoots and applause when he said he knew some of the gals from the outside. "This is all about who's serious about talking to you, and when you get out, who's serious about giving you a second chance," he said. "A vote for me is a vote for continuing a legacy of making sure someone cares about you."

More "That's right. That's right!" hoots ensued when Street, fielding pre-approved questions, told the ladies he's "against the economic apartheid against people who've made mistakes in their lives." He left the room to a standing ovation without even, as far as I could tell, looking in the other candidate's direction. (Apparently, daddy's grudge = his grudge.)

Then, it was time for Nutter, who noted that he was the only mayoral candidate who offered a "serious" plan. (His "Prisoner Re-Entry Tax Credit Plan" would offer tax incentives for employers to hire up to 1,000 ex-cons; he'd also look at city hiring practices.) The reaction was cooler at first. But Nutter would eventually win them with: "We have to change our attitude about people who've made a mistake. I'm prepared to put city money on the table to get you a second chance."

After shaking hands for a good 20 minutes, while handlers tried to get him to his next event, Nutter was pitched a softball: What message should the ladies take from the fact that you were the only one who showed? "That I care about everybody in Philadelphia," he responded. "If we're serious about addressing these problems, we have to go right to the people and let them know we're going to do what we say we're going to do."

Similarly, Wayne Jacobs, executive director of X-Offenders for Community Empowerment, told the ladies they damn well better hold the politicians to the promises they make. Yet that might be the greatest crime of all: Should neither Nutter nor Street win, whom will these mothers and daughters and sisters have to hold accountable?

(hickey@citypaper.net)