122. Earning Freedom (4.3) with Michael Santos
I\u2019m reading from chapter 4 of my book, Earning Freedom: Conquering a 45-Year Prison Term.
For more information, please visit PrisonProfessors.com
EF 4.3 /\xa0Chapter Four: 1990-1992 Months 37-57*******
I\u2019m excited to see Bruce, my mentor. He\u2019s a bear of a man, big in every way, and through our correspondence we\u2019ve built a friendship that has deepened. I look forward to our weekly exchange of mail and quarterly visits. He now lives in Chicago, having recently retired as a professor. He continues to use his immense talents, and he gives of his wisdom generously with hopes of making societal contributions through his teachings.
Bruce introduced me to his wife, Carolyn, who sometimes accompanies him on visits, and through correspondence I\u2019ve met his daughter and sons. The bad decisions of my past don\u2019t matter to him. My efforts to become a good citizen define me in his eyes. He strives to round out my cultural education by exposing me to art, opera, and theater, and he often stresses the importance of fully investing oneself in the community. Although Windward and other prisoners here don\u2019t understand the motivations of a man like Bruce, I see joy in his expressions as he describes the experience of helping others reach their potential.
After the guards at the desk clear me, I walk down the stairs and through the aisles toward where Bruce sits. An aging athlete, he stands to embrace me and I notice his white hair is a little thinner than the last time we met, though his eyes still shine a brilliant blue. He played as an offensive lineman in college football and it\u2019s easy to see how his size and strength would\u2019ve powered open huge holes for his running backs.
\u201cHow\u2019ve you been?\u201d I ask.
\u201cI\u2019m well,\u201d he tells me, then says that he heard from Mark. \u201cHe told me to send you his regards,\u201d Bruce says, embracing me.
\u201cWhat\u2019s he doing?\u201d
Mark was released from prison through parole. With the restrictions that prohibit felons from communicating with each other, I\u2019m losing touch with him except for periodic updates from Bruce.
\u201cHe\u2019s working for a friend who owns retail clothing stores, doing well. A guy with his moxie always has a place in sales.\u201d
\u201cNo more school for him then? He\u2019s not going to finish his degree?\u201d
\u201cI don\u2019t think so. He\u2019s putting his life back together and his plans probably don\u2019t include much more classroom time.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s all I\u2019m doing, putting in classroom time, and I\u2019m grateful for every minute of it.\u201d
Bruce reaches over the table to tap my arms. \u201cYou\u2019re steady at the gym I see. How much are you benching now?\u201d
I beam with pride. \u201cI\u2019m hitting 315 for triple reps, feeling stronger.\u201d I tell Bruce about my schedule, how I\u2019m now working out twice a day, once before breakfast and a second time during the lunch hour.
\u201cWhen are you eating?\u201d
\u201cI eat at work,\u201d I explain. \u201cAvoiding the chow hall is still a priority for me. That\u2019s where the chaos in here begins, with the racial segregation and the politics, meaning which power group sits in which section. My parents and sisters send me money for commissary, so I buy packs of tuna, soups, other foods that I eat at work.\xa0 Besides that, I can barter my writing or typing skills for sandwiches from guys who work in the kitchen. Great culinary experiences aren\u2019t my priority now.\u201d
Bruce nods his head and smiles. \u201cWhat did you think of the Monet prints?\u201d
To teach me about art Bruce sends postcards and magazine articles. He describes the great museums of the world and writes that he looks forward to walking through the Prado with me in Madrid, the Louvre in Paris, and the Art Institute of Chicago. He buys me subscriptions to The New Yorker and Smithsonian.
\u201cWhen you get out I\u2019ve got a whole world to show you. You can visit the Stratford Festival with Carolyn and me in Canada. We\u2019re there twice a year to celebrate the performances of Shakespeare plays.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s what I need to talk with you about. Getting out.\u201d My time in the visiting room is limited so I feel compelled to turn our conversation to something of more immediate importance. \u201cI\u2019ve got to be thinking about what I\u2019m going to do after I graduate next year.\u201d
\u201cHow can I help?\u201d
\u201cWell, a lot\u2019s been on my mind, but I need other people to make things work. I can\u2019t succeed without your help.\u201d
\u201cWhat\u2019s on your mind?\u201d
I explain to Bruce why and how I need to build a coalition of support.
\u201cDo you want help raising money to hire a lawyer?\u201d
Bruce misses my point so I try to elaborate. \u201cThe people who become a part of my network must join me because they believe in me, like you. I\u2019m not interested in buying support by hiring lawyers. What I need to think about is earning support, building new friendships and relationships with people who will support my efforts to earn freedom. I\u2019m not trying to get out now, but I\u2019m trying to position myself for 1997, when I\u2019ll have 10 years in.\u201d
\u201cHow should we start?\u201d
\u201cWell, one thing I need is support from someone inside the Bureau of Prisons.\u201d
I explain my relationship with Ms. Stephens and the ways that she has intervened for me on a local level to smooth out complications with her colleagues who block me from receiving library books and other resources I need for my education.
\u201cWhat I need is the same kind of help from people who have national influence in the system. The obstacle is that I don\u2019t have any direct contact with them. The leaders of the BOP are all in Washington and to them I\u2019m just another prisoner, a number. Ms. Stephens cares because she sees how hard I work, and she goes the extra mile to help me succeed. She believes in me, just as you do.\u201d
\u201cHow can someone in the BOP help you?\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m not going to be able to make the progress I need from this prison. There\u2019s way too much violence here and it\u2019s getting worse.\xa0 We\u2019re on lockdown at least once each week. I want to stay here until I earn my degree, but at some point after graduation I need to transfer, and I need to transfer to the best spot in the BOP for continuing my education. I\u2019ll need help to identify where that place is and then I\u2019ll need help getting transferred there when the time is right.\u201d
\u201cSo what\u2019re you thinking?\u201d
\u201cI read an article in an academic journal by Sylvia McCollum,\u201d I explain to Bruce. \u201cShe\u2019s the Director of Education for the entire Bureau of Prisons. Her article describes how she created a new policy that makes it mandatory for all federal prisoners who don\u2019t have a high school equivalency to participate in GED classes. I want to build a relationship with her, to get her support. But I can\u2019t just write her a letter because to her I\u2019m simply another drug dealer in prison.\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s not true,\u201d Bruce counters. He always sees the good in everyone and dislikes my cynicism. \u201cShe\u2019s going to see the record you\u2019ve been building, your progress in college.\u201d
I shake my head, disagreeing. \u201cIt\u2019s not enough. The culture in this organization is one that trains staff members to consider prisoners as something less than human beings. She\u2019ll only see me as a prisoner, a drug dealer, scum. I need to do something more, something to distinguish myself. I was thinking that we could write an article, a response to her article from the perspective of a prisoner and his mentor. It should describe how the GED is one step toward preparing for release, but it\u2019s hardly sufficient.\xa0 Men who leave prison should emerge with values, skills, and resources that will truly translate into success, and a GED isn\u2019t enough.\xa0 The Bureau of Prisons should use incentives that will encourage more prisoners to continue their education with college or vocational training.\u201d
\u201cAnd what\u2019re we going to do with the article? Send it to her?\u201d
\u201cThat\u2019s how I need your help. Not only will we have to write the article, I need you to arrange publication. It would be one thing for me as a prisoner to write an article and send it to her. Big deal. On the other hand, if I were to write an article together with you and send it to her, that would carry more weight, more influence because not many prisoners cultivate mentorships with distinguished professors. But the best approach, I think, would be to write an article that we publish together, as the professor and the prisoner. That\u2019s one way I would stand out, one way that she would remember my name, see that I\u2019m different.\u201d
Bruce nods his head and agrees to help. When he returns to Chicago, he promises to make inquiries at the various peer-reviewed academic journals to see what steps we must take to submit an article for publishing consideration. It\u2019s a process that will take several months, which suits my schedule well, as I need that time to finish my undergraduate work.
\u201cWhat I also need,\u201d I tell Bruce before he leaves, \u201cis a list of all the law schools in the United States. I need to start writing letters to see if any of the schools will allow me to earn a law degree through correspondence.\u201d
\u201cSo you\u2019re still set on law school?\u201d
\u201cI\u2019m set on earning an advanced degree, something, anything more than a bachelor\u2019s. I\u2019m going to need unimpeachable credentials that people respect, like yours.\u201d
Bruce is a role model and I\u2019m eager to follow his leadership, to emulate his commitment to society. He told me how he and Carolyn were volunteering their time on weekends to help homeless people in a Chicago shelter write r\xe9sum\xe9s that would facilitate their prospects for employment. Bruce and Carolyn give of themselves, without expectation for return or desire for recognition. Success for Bruce comes when his efforts lead to another person\u2019s independence or happiness. I\u2019m determined to prove myself worthy of his generosity, of the trust and the investment he\u2019s making in me.
*******
This hard plank of steel I\u2019m lying on influences my thought process. I\u2019m locked in this small room with another man who uses the toilet and flushes a few feet to the right of my head. What Bruce and Carolyn do to make life better for so many people gives me a different perspective on humanity.\xa0 I know that my motivations lack the purity of Bruce\u2019s, as I\u2019m so much more pragmatic. I want out, so there\u2019s always a selfish component to my actions, and that somehow cheapens them in my mind. I contemplate Maslow\u2019s Hierarchy of Needs, a concept I learned about in sociology. Until a man satisfies his most basic needs he can\u2019t evolve. My primary need is liberty, and decades may pass before I leave these walls. Everything I do up until then must prepare me for freedom. Perhaps when I\u2019m free from concrete and steel I\u2019ll be able to emulate Bruce more completely. I want to live as that type of a good, kind man. But I don\u2019t know how to reconcile this desire to live with the kindness and generosity of spirit that Bruce exemplifies with the need for survival in a predatory environment.
My philosophy courses have broadened my perceptions, explaining man\u2019s purpose, his relationship to society, his quest for personal fulfillment and enlightenment. I\u2019ve embraced lessons from Aristotle and Sun Tzu among others. Aristotle advises those who follow him \u201cto know thyself,\u201d while Sun Tzu emphasizes that it is equally important \u201cto know thy enemy.\u201d
Know thyself and know thy enemy. I wrestle with these thoughts. I know I must thoroughly understand my strengths and weaknesses. I must use every resource God has given me to become stronger and to grow. Likewise, I must understand my enemies. In my case, the enemies are a corrupting environment, demeaning perceptions, and ugly prejudices I will encounter in the decades ahead, perhaps for the rest of my life. Responsibility to triumph over a system that is designed to extinguish hope and to perpetuate cycles of failure rests with me. Solely.
*******
I\u2019m grateful that Bruce takes the time to visit the American Bar Association in Chicago. He sends me a package of information that includes addresses to every ABA accredited law school in the nation. All of the schools I\u2019ve written to have responded with disappointing news that the ABA prohibits law schools from allowing students to earn law degrees through correspondence. But there\u2019s a sliver of hope that comes in a letter from Dr. Al Cohn, a professor at Hofstra University\u2019s graduate school.
Dr. Cohn wrote that my letter impressed the Dean of Hofstra\u2019s law school, and the dean forwarded the letter to him. Although Hofstra can\u2019t allow me to earn a law degree without attending school there, Dr. Cohn\u2019s letter indicates that he might consider waiving the residency requirement if I pursue a graduate degree. Hofstra has never admitted a prisoner before, he admits, but he admires my determination to educate myself. If I earn my undergraduate degree with an acceptable grade point average, propose an acceptable area of study in which I can specialize, and complete a probationary period of conditional admittance, he will waive the requirements of taking the Graduate Records Examination and on-campus residency. Wow! Dr. Cohn tells me that Hofstra will allow me to earn a master\u2019s degree if I meet those requirements.
I\u2019ve read that roughly 30 percent of American adults have earned university degrees, but fewer than 15 percent have graduate or professional degrees. My aspirations are not to become a lawyer, necessarily, but to earn credentials that others respect. I\u2019m certain that the higher my level of achievement, the more I\u2019ll be able to build a support network, one that will help me transition from prisoner to citizen.
As I contemplate Dr. Cohn\u2019s letter I can\u2019t help but think of Mick Jagger, the rock-and-roll legend. He sings that you can\u2019t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. I may not earn a law degree, but with the opportunity extended by Hofstra University I know that nothing is going to stop me from earning a master\u2019s degree.
*******
I pass my fifth Christmas in prison. It\u2019s now 1992, I\u2019m 28, and in only a few months Mercer University will award my undergraduate degree. This is a big deal for me. Out of more than 2,500 men locked inside USP Atlanta\u2019s walls, I\u2019m the only one to receive a degree. In fact, Mercer hasn\u2019t awarded a degree to any prisoner since I\u2019ve been in Atlanta.
I\u2019m inspired by other men who used their knowledge and prison experience to make significant contributions, like Alexander Solzhenitsyn whose eight years in a Russian prison was followed by three years in exile. His hardship awoke his muse, resulting in such classics as A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich and his opus, The Gulag Archipelago, exposing readers from around the world to Russia\u2019s oppressive prison life.
Eight years, whether in Russian prison camps or the United States penitentiaries, is a long time. Through his literature Solzhenitsyn made monumental contributions to society and earned a Nobel Prize, and he inspires me. As crazy as it sounds, a seed is taking root, and I feel the bud of this thought that maybe, through hard work, I can transform the decades I\u2019ll serve in here into something positive.\xa0 I\u2019ve begun to accept that I may serve my entire sentence, and I need more examples like Solzhenitsyn\u2019s. Not knowing what I can do for 21 more years, I continue reading about other men who served long sentences.
One such prisoner was Nelson Mandela, the black South African activist locked in prison for 27 years by white authorities between 1962 and 1990. That length of time is comparable to what I may serve, and I take heart that multiple decades did not destroy Mandela. On the contrary, it strengthened his resolve, evidenced by his influence in ending the oppressive policies of Apartheid, and by the position he now holds as a world leader, revered throughout the international community.
*******
I don\u2019t know what it means to be an intellectual like Solzhenitsyn or a leader like Mandela, but I know what it means to face decades in prison. I also know what it means to be a man, and recently I\u2019ve met a woman who\u2019s reminded me of all I\u2019ve been living without.
Her name is Sarah, and she\u2019s a lawyer. We met by chance two months ago when we were in the visiting room at the same time. My father had flown in just before Christmas to spend a weekend with me. Sarah was visiting another prisoner I knew. Under the pretense that I might need some legal advice I asked Sarah for her business card. Yet having lived for so long in an abnormal community of only men, I wanted a woman in my life more than I wanted to know anything about the law.
The dance of seduction begins when I write to her, initiating an exchange of letters. She writes back. At first the correspondence is bland, tame, harmless. Soon the letters between us grow in frequency and in complexity. They\u2019re handwritten now, not typed. I learn that she earned her degrees from NYU, that she contemplates starting her own law firm, and that she\u2019s 30. I also know that she named her cat Snuggles, that she rollerblades, loves aerobics, and is recovering from a broken heart. She\u2019s vulnerable. Through our exchange of letters, I\u2019m coming to know Sarah the woman, and in my world, any connection with a woman is a gift.
Desire creeps into me, threatens me. I\u2019ve been successful in repressing or ignoring these urges that have been dormant for so long, but now they keep me awake. I remind myself where I am, what I went through with Lisa, and the goals I\u2019m working so feverishly to complete.
But another fever takes hold. Every day I ache for a letter from her, for something, any kind of sign that lets me know where this is going, how much I can escalate the heat. I don\u2019t remember what I wrote in the letter she should\u2019ve received today, and like a teenager, I wonder whether I went too far, revealed too much. She must know what\u2019s going on with this exchange of letters, that I want her.
It\u2019s mail call and the guard just flicked her letter beneath my door. I see her stationary, her handwriting, and I pick up the envelope. She wrote her words yesterday, making it an exchange of three letters this week. I\u2019m on her mind.\xa0 In the words she chooses I catch some suggestive double meanings. My confidence grows. We\u2019re flirting and we both know it, and I want to see her again. I\u2019m a man in the desert and she\u2019s my oasis.
I graduate next month. Mercer University is honoring me with a ceremony. I can\u2019t travel to the campus, so my commencement will take place inside USP Atlanta, in the chapel. A hundred other prisoners will participate, receiving GED certificates or certificates for completion of basic education classes. Even though I\u2019m a class of one, I\u2019m invited to speak as valedictorian. Mr. Chandler authorized me to invite two visitors, and I\u2019m choosing my sister Julie and Sarah. If Sarah accepts it may be the sign I\u2019m looking for, confirmation that the desire I\u2019m feeling is mutual.
\xa0