Taking On Texas

Lone Star COs put the heat on legislators to improve one of the nation's worst penal systems — and their own profession as well.

By Jimmie Turner

BEEVILLE & AUSTIN, TEXAS

Texas prisons are a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Because of lousy pay, staff shortages, paltry retention rates, an influx of inexperienced and untrained corrections officers (COs), and low morale, the state's penal facilities are advancing toward a point where the inmates call the shots.

No one is less happy about that than AFSCME Council 7 COs. Frustrated by a lack of respect and attention from lawmakers, they have spent the last two years working the halls of the state capitol to improve their working conditions.

BIG DOESN'T MEAN GOOD. Texas has the largest prison system in the United States, yet CO pay ranks 46th. An entry-level officer starts out at $18,924 annually. At the high end of the pay structure, a CO5 with eight or more years of experience, caps out at $31,068. Many officers with families have to work two jobs to make ends meet; others are feeding their families with food stamps.

They have long felt that their political representatives don't understand or appreciate the inherent dangers of keeping watch over the state's most violent felons. But since 1999, a rash of incidents — a murdered CO, an escape of seven felons that drew national attention, and a string of vicious confrontations with inmates — have forced them to take matters into their own hands.

In addition, COs see the system's shortcomings getting worse, not better. Texas prisons are currently understaffed by more than 3,000 COs — a 50 percent increase over a year ago!

Members of AFSCME Council 7 (the Correctional Employees Council) have formed alliances with other Texas AFL-CIO unions, as well as advocates of CO issues, and conducted candlelight vigils at prisons across the state. They have demonstrated on the capitol grounds in Austin to demand pay raises and other improvements; and have attended and testified at legislative hearings.

COs also have initiated an internal organizing program in the facilities at Palestine, which employ the largest concentration of members in the state. In right-to-work Texas, activists understand that adding to the membership makes their voice grow louder and more compelling. "The non-members are going to be able to look at this [legislative] session and say that the members who went to Austin accomplished something," says Local 3116 member and CO George Wikel, "and I think that's going to bring a lot of support."

POLITICAL SUPPORT. Their dogged determination is forcing change. The current legislature is mulling over an important bill introduced by Rep. Bob Turner (D) that would improve recruitment and retention within the Texas Department of Criminal Justice (TDCJ). The bill would give COs professional status, establish a career ladder, expand training and require TDCJ to report back to the legislature on its progress.

Through their lobbying efforts, officers also have secured the support of some representatives and senators to give them a raise. "Corrections officers are a high priority — the turnover rate is just outrageous," explains Rep. Glen Maxey (D). "Without a doubt, [I'll do] whatever I can do to help."

The working conditions in some prisons and their impact on safety have another Democratic representative, Allan Ritter, worried. His chief of staff, Celinda Provost (a former AFSCME member), notes that Ritter lives close to a complex of three prisons in Nederland and that "When you're talking prison escapees, that really hits home."

When the legislature met two years ago, Ritter wasn't a member of the Corrections Committee. But he received so many letters during the last session about the need for pay raises that he sponsored a meeting in the spring of 2000 for COs and their spouses. That, says Provost, opened his eyes. "It really had an impact on Allan, and from then on he started lobbying hard for increased pay for COs. Then he came back and got an assignment on the committee."

A SENSELESS TRAGEDY. "The real sad thing about it all is that Daniel's death wasn't enough to implement some immediate, aggressive changes in the system," says Charles Godwin. He's referring to CO Daniel Nagle, the president of Local 3890, who was fatally stabbed by an inmate on Dec. 17, 1999, in Beeville's McConnell Prison Unit. Nagle lay mortally wounded for 45 minutes before he was found. Two weeks before his death, he prophetically announced at a rally in Austin: "Someone will have to be killed before the [TDCJ] does anything about the shortage of staff."

Godwin, the former director of training for the department and a Local 3890 member, recalls a time in the early 1990s when Texas lawmakers admitted to a possible rise in prison violence. They called it the "hardening of the population" because tougher and longer sentences, as well as restrictive parole guidelines, were being mandated to keep criminals off the streets.

Adds Godwin: "The backbone of security in any institution is recruiting and retention to keep a full staff; training to make sure that it's a professional staff that knows what to do; guidelines to make sure that staff are deployed in the correct areas; and a classification system ensuring that inmates are properly locked up within the prisons so that the officers know who they're working with."

He compiled research showing that, since 1995, the TDCJ took resources earmarked for recruiting and retention and committed them to non-essential functions. He says that, as the director for training, he offered "numerous" recommendations and "issued warnings to the administration." He even wrote then-Gov. George W. Bush, which produced a hearing before the department's board. Godwin says a panel deliberated for a short time before ending the matter with a vote of confidence for the executive director.

He continued his campaign by going to the media and other law enforcement authorities to sound the alarm about hidden dangers boiling inside the prisons. As a result, he was unceremoniously demoted and now works in a program that seeks employment for inmates after they're released.

"Daniel Nagle and I used to talk in the union hall parking lot, and I can remember us having conversations that somebody's going to get killed," says Godwin. "It turned out to be Daniel." His death stirred "a lot of different emotions: first of all, the sadness of losing a friend who I knew was committed to working on behalf of the officers; and then the frustration of realizing that the administration knew these conditions were getting worse but didn't act fast enough to correct them."

THE PLOT WORSENS. A year after Nagle's death, several inmates (the "Texas Seven") escaped from the Connally Prison Unit in Kenedy. In the aftermath of their breakout, they killed a police officer, robbed various stores and stole vehicles before being recaptured in January near Colorado Springs, Colo. The escapees were on the loose for a month and a half. The incident received nationwide media attention, and the whole country was on alert.

According to accounts, the Connally prison was understaffed by 30 COs, and inexperienced officers were working key posts on the day of the escape. The result: The inmates stormed a watchtower and ran off with 14 .357 magnum pistols, 238 rounds of ammunition, and a loaded rifle and shotgun. Because two of the inmates were misclassified, they had not been confined in a more secure section of the prison. Instead, they were allowed to roam around on work details.

More recent incidents also demonstrate that Texas inmates are becoming increasingly violent. Yet the TDCJ, Godwin says, remains in denial and is assuring the public that everything is fine. In fact, he warns, "it's not over because you've got years of neglect. The wheels are in motion: more violent criminals dealing with short staff and officers who are inadequately trained."

Laments Anita Wilson, a member of Local 3963 who works at the F.M. Robertson Prison Unit in Hamby: "I don't know what else we can do to get people to listen. I guess it's going to take something like Attica [the bloody New York state prison riot in 1971]. You've had Daniel Nagle; you've had countless officers assaulted; there have been two people held hostage at my unit since 1999. People are getting disgusted. The experienced COs are quitting, and we can't train the new ones fast enough."

PROFESSIONAL RESPECT. Texas COs can't afford to wait longer. "Professional Respect Now!" is what they call their lobbying campaign. It's an effort to improve their image in the public's eye, but also to meet lawmakers halfway to establish bills like the one Representative Turner has introduced.

CO Robert Thomas visited with a couple of representatives on Lobby Day, April 20. "I told them, 'We're just out here trying to get professional respect and to be heard.' They ask for our support when they're running for office; we need theirs so we can be proud of what we're doing and be professional about it. They can help us by improving the standards and working conditions."

Representative Maxey admits that lawmakers "have not kept up on pay." He fears more staffing shortages because a large number of supervisors are retiring and not enough experienced personnel are available to replace them. The startling understaffing numbers, Maxey says, "tell you intrinsically that there's something wrong with where we are and how people view [the profession]. We have people who came into the system 20 years ago to make this a career, and they stayed." Now it's different. "People need to feel that there is a career there — that it's not a stopping-off point while I go to school in Austin or looking for something better."

Almost all the COs who participated in Lobby Day say they would accept legislation that elevates their careers rather than provides better pay and benefits. Naturally, they wouldn't refuse raises they richly deserve; but, a professional classification would enhance their image and give them a foundation to develop further benefits and improvements in future legislative sessions.

Staffing, too, is a more compelling issue than pay. As Mario Muniz, vice president of Local 3890, explains, "It would put us all at ease to get more money, but right now we can use more people. What really concerns us is our safety. The inmates know that we're short-staffed and they're scared for their safety. And we're scared, too. Because anything can happen at any time."

CHANGE TAKES TIME. George Wikel, who remains a CO despite being beaten nearly unconscious by three inmates last January, acknowledges that his and his colleagues' lobbying efforts won't change overnight the abundance of problems paralyzing Texas prisons. "But we're going to build up from here; it's going to have to get better. A lot of people want to come here [to lobby], but they just can't make the time. Our lobbying now will help us improve our membership because people will know that we are here supporting them."

"I feel it's very important what we're doing today," adds Larry Opell of Local 3806. "I'm going to retire in less than three years. What I'm doing today may not benefit me, but it may benefit the person who's coming behind me. Somebody's got to start it somewhere, and this is our first step forward."