By, Francis J. Carney, Jr., Ph.D.
Director of Research in the Boone Administration
John O. Boone had a relatively brief tenure as Massachusetts Commissioner of Correction, serving from from January, 1972, to July, 1973 (hardly an “era” in the traditional sense). Yet, during the eighteen months of his leadership, he was able to effect remarkable change in the correctional system. He essentially transformed corrections from an institution-based system to one with a strong community-based orientation. Central to his correctional philosophy, policy formulation, and program development was a focus on the effective reintegration of the offender back into the community. Almost all offenders sentenced to prison eventually return to society. It is noteworthy that he acknowledged that the protection of society was an overarching goal of corrections.
Consider the DOC statement of philosophy which guided his policies and practices:
The basic obligation of the Massachusetts of Correction is the protection of society. Part of this duty is to provide for the humane care and custody of those whom the courts have sentenced to a state correctional institution. A more challenging aspect of this obligation is to provide a truly corrective experience for sentenced offenders so that they will be better equipped to lead productive and law-abiding lives. For, if a man is returned to society more embittered, vengeful, demoralized, and less capable of social and economic survival than when he first came to prison, then we certainly will have failed in our obligation to protect society. Our goal is to return a man to society with the knowledge and skills necessary to earn an honest living, with a reasonable sense of social responsibility and self-value, and with an increased capacity for self-control, judgment, and realistic optimism. Thus, the reintegration of the offender into community life is a primary concern of the philosophy of the Department of Correction.
He believed passionately in the reintegration model of corrections, with emphasis on community-based alternatives to incarceration. And he was very successful in creating an array of community correctional facilities and programs consistent with the reintegration philosophy – pre-release centers (both state-run and privately contracted), a robust furlough program, and other community-oriented programs. In many ways, the Boone era was the gold standard for correctional reform. I worked in criminal justice for over 45 years and I don’t think I experienced or observed anything quite like it (except possibly Jerome Miller’s dismantling of juvenile institutions in the months preceding and contemporaneous with Boone.) It was truly a time of transformational change in Massachusetts corrections. And it was exciting to be a part of it.
Looking back, I often wonder what was it about the Boone era that allowed for such dramatic reform in what was traditionally a very conservative arena regarding change. Boone was not successful in all areas of his administration – e.g., his relationship with the correction officers’ union and his handling of unrest at Walpole. But, in this challenging area of creating community corrections, he was undoubtedly effective. Was there something about the social or political climate at the time or legislative interest in corrections? Or did Boone possess some unique personal traits that enabled him to bring about such change? It strikes me that there was a convergence of many factors, a “perfect storm” if you will (in a positive sense), setting the stage for change to occur. Here are some thoughts on some of those factors.
DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONs
When Boone assumed the Commissioner’s position, I had been working in the DOC as a research analyst for five years. In those days the debate in corrections was primarily about treatment vs. punishment. Boone’s predecessor, John Fitzpatrick, was very much a proponent of treatment. He led the overhaul of the classification system which screened incoming inmates, referred them to appropriate placements and programs, and monitored their progress through a new case management system. He was a strong supporter of counseling units in each institution staffed with professionals from the Department of Mental Health. He developed other educational and vocational programs consistent with his rehabilitation philosophy. And he was an advocate for the correctional reform legislation which was being crafted in the Legislature. Ill health forced his retirement in the Fall of 1971, but his progressive leadership laid a foundation for Boone to build on when he arrived.
Social Context
The 1960s and early 1970s were turbulent times in our society. Anti-Vietnam War protests roiled our communities and polarized citizens. The Civil Rights Movement was marked with turmoil,l as calls for change were met with rigid reactions to maintain the status quo. The assassinations of Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert Kennedy were stunning events in these tumultuous times.
This the dissatisfaction with the status quo and the unrest in society was reflected by a similar dissatisfaction and unrest in the nation’s prison systems. The Civil Rights Movement began to encompass a Prisoner’s Rights Movement as the U.S. Supreme Court for the first time took up lawsuits regarding prisoner’s rights. The unrest in society was also reflected in an escalating series of prison riots, culminating in the infamous Attica riot in September, 1971. The Attica riot, in which 43 individuals died (32 inmates and 11 staff) had a profound effect on the nation’s perception of prison conditions. Media coverage of the riot was intense. While hostages were held, negotiations between prisoner representatives and the administration went on for four days. Each night there were interviews with inmate negotiators regarding prison conditions and demands for improvements and responses by the administration. When the governor sent in the state police and national guard to re-take control of the prison, the operation was also recorded by TV cameras, with footage of the action in the prison yard shot from helicopters. All in all, the depiction of the Attica riot and its aftermath went a long way in raising the consciousness and pricking the consciences of the nation regarding the dismal conditions of our prison system and was a catalyst for correctional reform nationwide.
Political Context
Nationally, reform was in the air and here in Massachusetts the political climate was also quite conducive to correctional reform. Francis Sargent was elected Governor in 1970 after moving up from Lieutenant Governor to serve out the term of John Volpe who had been tapped by Richard Nixon for Secretary of Transportation. Sargent was a reform-minded Republican with a particular interest in correctional reform. (Ironically, in my 47 years working in Massachusetts criminal justice, I believe that the Republican Sargent was the strongest advocate for correctional reform among all the Governors of that period.)
Sargent had already demonstrated his commitment to correctional reform in the area of juvenile corrections. In 1969 the Legislature enacted a statute overhauling Youth Services. The new law elevated Youth Services from a Division within the Department of Education to a new Department of Youth Services with the new position of Commissioner reporting to the Secretary of Human Services. The legislation granted broad authority for the Commissioner to reform juvenile corrections both inside and outside the institutional settings. Sargent selected Jerome Miller, who had a Doctorate in Social Work from Catholic University, to become the first Commissioner of Youth Services and charged him with a mandate for reform.
After a self-admitted failed attempt to reform the juvenile institutions, Miller embarked on the more radical approach of closing them down. Just as Boone was taking on his own role of Commissioner of Corrections in January, 1972, Miller was undertaking the challenge of closing down the venerable Lyman School for Boys, the oldest state-run reform school in the nation, established in 1848. In early January, Miller, without advance notice, quietly transferred some 100 boys from Lyman to the dorms at UMass, Amherst, where students were on an extended winter break due to fuel shortages. With the help of student volunteers, the boys were assessed and moved to community programs, families, and other alternatives to the institution.
Boone and Miller would later collaborate on the closing of the Shirley Industrial School for Boys. Shirley was one of the last of the institutions closed by Miller. Originally a Shaker Village, it housed the older DYS boys in a group of cottages built around an oval. Miller anticipated resistance to closing Shirley and was seeking a way to ensure that it could not be re-opened down the line. Enter Boone. He was in the market for potential pre-release facilities that could be up-and-running fast. While perhaps not ideally suited for reintegration programming in its rural area, it nevertheless provided an open setting outside the institutions where pre-release activities could begin. Boone and Miller agreed that, when Miller moved the DYS boys out of Shirley, Boone would populate the facility with DOC inmates classified for pre-release. And Shirley became one of the first two DOC-run pre-release centers (along with Boston State) to be put into operation by Boone. (It is noteworthy that during the Boone era, DOC and DYS were both under the Secretary of Human Services, where EOHS Secretary Peter Goldmark was a staunch supporter of correctional reform and their peer departments included the Departments of Mental Health and Public Health. Later, as “tough on crime” perspectives pervaded criminal justice, the DOC was shifted to the Secretary of Public Safety, where their peer departments included the State Police and the National Guard.)
Legislative Context
The MA Correctional Reform Act (Ch 777 of the Acts of 1972) was landmark legislation that provided the statutory framework for far-reaching change in corrections. Approved in July, 1972, and effective in October, 1972, it provided the statutory framework for the creation of a wide range of community-based facilities and programs. It created a new position of Deputy Commissioner for Community Services and called for the development of pre-release centers, work and educational release programs, furloughs, and other initiatives aimed at facilitating the reintegration of the offender back into the community. This legislation was significant not only for the transformational change that it promoted, but also for signifying the commitment of the Legislature and the Governor to that transformational change.
Fiscal Context
The MA line-item budget structure provided little flexibility for a Commissioner to exercise discretion in the allocation of funds to support innovative programs. However, as Boone was assuming the commissioner’s position, the federal government was beginning to provide federal funding for criminal justice reforms under the auspices of the Law Enforcement Assistance Administration (LEAA). In MA, LEAA funds were dispensed through the Committee on Criminal Justice, directed by Arnold Rosenfeld. Rosenfeld supported Boone’s community-based initiatives and allocated federal grants to help launch some of these initiatives. So, Boone was able to work around some of the constraints of the state budget structure using federal funds to get his initiatives off the ground.
Enter John Boone
When John Boone was sworn in as Commissioner of Correction on January 17, 1972, there was already a confluence of forces in the social, political, legislative, and fiscal areas that augured well for correctional reform. To effect that reform, he diversified his management team, tapping Boston’s Walter Williams to serve in the newly created position of Deputy Commissioner for Community Services. He consulted regularly with Jim Isenberg and Gary Robinson, who were on Secretary Goldmark’s staff, but who spent a good deal of time at the DOC. He brought in Larry Solomon from the federal system to serve as Deputy Commissioner for Classification and Treatment. He promoted 30-year DOC employee Pasqualina “Pat” Iorio, who knew state personnel policies and practices better than anyone, to Deputy Commissioner for Personnel and Training. But, to me, his most trusted advisor was the chain-smoking, pony-tailed Bill Farmar, who had been Boone’s inmate clerk in the federal system. If you wanted to get Boone’s ear on some matter, Bill Farmar was the go-to guy. (When Umberto Cardinal Medeiros was assigned to Boston shortly after Boone’s swearing-in, Farmar suggested that Boone reach out to him and welcome him to Boston. Boone did so and they became friends. Community corrections works in different ways.)
As noted earlier, Boone was successful in deploying several pre-release centers, primarily in the Boston area. Some were state-run; others were contracted to community agencies – e.g., Mass. Halfway Houses, Inc., ABCD. He also aggressively implemented the furlough program as a key component for maintaining ties between an inmate and his family. All furlough candidates were screened by a classification committee and for those serving time for violent offenses , the statute required a recommendation by the superintendent and approval by the commissioner. So, the superintendent and the commissioner were “on the hook” for all furlough decisions for violent offenders. Boone’s aggressive approach to furloughs was apparent as a small number of inmates serving life without parole for first degree murder were granted furloughs . . . and returned without incident. (It should be noted that commutations of life sentences were more likely to be granted in those days and a record of successful furloughs was a positive basis for consideration for a commutation.)
The rate of successful furloughs hovered around 99% – i.e., 99% of those granted furloughs returned to their facilities within two hours of the appointed time. (There was a sense among DOC staff that there was a certain amount of “self-policing” among inmates regarding returning on time from furloughs. They did not want to see the program jeopardized by an inmate who was declared an escape from furlough. This concern turned out to be well-founded when, years later, Willie Horton escaped from furlough and committed serious crimes in the midst of Michael Dukakis’ 1988 presidential run, adversely affecting the campaign, and resulting in a sharp reduction of furloughs.)
Early Research
So, the furlough program was considered successful when measured by its low escape rate. And, importantly, early research indicated that furloughs – and, more generally, the entire pre-release experience – had a significant impact in reducing recidivism. The seminal research on recidivism reduction was done by Daniel LeClair, former Chair of the Department of Applied Sociology in Boston University’s Metropolitan College, in his doctoral dissertation in Sociology at Tulane University. Using a quasi-experimental research design (base expectancy model), which controlled for those variables most closely associated with recidivism, LeClair followed up inmates released from Boston State and Shirley Pre-Release Centers and determined that their recidivism rates were significantly lower than the expected rates generated from the base expectancy tables. A similar significant reduction in recidivism was also associated with participation in the furlough program. And the most significant reduction of all occurred among those inmates who participated in both furloughs and pre-release. LeClair’s research provided encouraging empirical data that reintegration programs were effective in reducing recidivism.
Signs of Trouble
After a year in office, Boone had made substantial strides in deploying pre-release facilities and services in communities. He promoted a two-way approach - moving inmates to communities through a graduated reintegration process and encouraging community members to participate in institutional programs and activities. But signs of trouble were emerging at Walpole. Inmate unrest and deteriorating relations with the correction officers’ union led to escalating tensions, which culminated with a walkout of officers.
During the period of the officers’ strike, volunteer observers and administrative staff had a presence at Walpole. I was assigned to the visiting room. In those days, there was no separation between inmates and their visitors. Inmates and visitors typically sat side by side in chairs arranged around the perimeter of a large visiting room. In good weather, inmates and their visitors could sit outdoors at picnic tables just outside the visiting room. The atmosphere was fairly relaxed.
One memory of my visiting room experience: One sunny afternoon, an inmate and his female visitor began strolling away together down an outside pathway leading in the direction of Block 10. I had recognized this inmate as an activist who had himself been recently released from Block 10. I followed the couple down the pathway and shouted after them in my most non-confrontational tone, “Hey, you have to stay in the visiting area. Please come back.” He turned, paused ominously, and then shrugged and said, “OK.” (I sometimes wonder what would have happened if he said, “Yeah, and who’s gonna make me?”)
Others have written about the scene at Walpole during the officer strike. I have memories of two events in which I was involved during that period. One relates to negotiations with the NPRA; the other relates to the shipout of selected inmates identified as ringleaders.
Negotiations with the NPRA
The Walpole chapter of the National Prisoners Reform Association (NPRA) was formed in the Fall of 1972. The group filed for recognition by the National Labor Relations Board as the prisoners’ union, but was denied. When the officers went on strike in March, 1973, Boone wanted to engage in negotiations with the NPRA to try to resolve issues and maintain calm at Walpole. He convened a three-person negotiating committee led by the charismatic and street-wise Gary Robinson and including DOC staff attorney, Ned Brewer, and myself. The NPRA was represented by its five-member executive committee led by the chairman, the voluble Bobby Dellelo, and including the imposing Ralph Hamm, the ever-cool Miguel Trinidad, the enigmatic Peter Wilson, and the quiet Richard Devlin. The meetings were held in the area which formerly housed the counseling service, a large room with a conference table in the middle. Robinson sat at one end and Dellelo sat at the other end. At Dellelo’s right hand sat William “Lefty” Gilday, an accomplished jailhouse lawyer who served as counsel to the executive committee (and who also did a stint as a Major League pitcher with the Washington Senators in his younger days). Around the perimeter of the room sat about 20 cell block representatives who were there as observers, creating a “fish-bowl” aura for those at the table. (After the first few sessions, the observers no longer attended.)
Robinson and Dellelo did most of the talking. They developed a rapport early on, each using humor to take the edge off some tense moments. At the outset, the main issues were visiting policy and procedures and Block Ten practices. On visiting policy, I don’t believe that Walpole had yet installed metal detectors and there was considerable consternation regarding pat-downs and strip searches of visitors – particularly women visitors. On Block Ten practices, Dellelo maintained that some inmates were unfairly held in the segregation unit and was negotiating for their re-classification and release. Our process was to define the issues to be resolved, discuss them with the Superintendent – Walter Waitkevich at the time – and Boone, explore possibilities for accommodations, get direction and go back to the table. There was considerable back-and-forth. One evening, after a break in the negotiations, the executive committee returned from a caucus looking somber, and Dellelo ominously announced: “You guys don’t seem willing to concede anything on this issue (I don’t remember what the issue was, but I do remember his following words) so we’ve decided to hold you hostage until we can come to an agreement.” They deadpanned us for about ten seconds and then, as if on cue, broke into gales of uproarious laughter, saying, “Ah, we got you on that one!” . . . . . and they did.
The negotiations came to an end after about two weeks as the issues on the table became institution-specific matters – e.g., will aerosol spray deodorant cans be allowed in the inmate canteen. Those issues were then handled directly by the Superintendent.
The ringleader shipout
At some point in early 1973, the Superintendent (I think it was Raymond Porelle at the time) convinced Boone that unrest at Walpole could be reduced if about a dozen inmate ringleaders could be transferred out of the institution. Boone assembled a special classification committee and asked me to serve as chair. The committee convened at Walpole shortly thereafter. Each of the twelve cases was heard individually. The inmates received written notice of the hearing and process (including their right to appeal), the Superintendent provided testimony on each case, and inmates’ responses were heard. Ultimately, the committee voted to recommend transfer all twelve inmates and Boone approved the recommendation.
However, one of the twelve, who had been transferred to the Charles Street Jail, appealed the transfer decision in Federal Court. The case came before Judge Arthur Garrity, who at the time was overseeing the Boston school desegregation / bussing case. Judge Garrity found the transfer process wanting and ordered all twelve inmates to be returned to Walpole. The inmates returned to Walpole, probably emboldened, and this approach to stem the tensions at Walpole failed. (Interestingly, none of the twelve identified ringleaders was among the NPRA leadership.)
As the Spring of 1973 wore on, the perception that Walpole was “out of control” seemed to loom larger and larger. And Boone took the brunt of the blame. Ultimately, Governor Sargent felt constrained to withdraw his support for Boone and Boone submitted his resignation, effective July 1, 1973.
What about today?
The fifty years that have passed since Boone was Commissioner have shown that criminal justice philosophies, policies, and practices are cyclical. (Some would say that they are inexorably cyclical.) Boone assumed office at the peak of a liberal upswing that carried the potential for transformational change. But it would take a bold leader to translate that liberal momentum into actual, on-the-ground facilities and services. Boone provided that bold leadership, laser-focused on implementing the reintegration model – perhaps at the expense of not paying enough attention to the situation at Walpole.
As for the criminal justice cycle, the 60s and early 70s were peak liberal years; the late 70s and early 80s were transitional; by the late 80s and the 90s the pendulum had swung to the conservative side, as illustrated by such “tough on crime” initiatives as three strikes laws, mandatory minimums, war on drugs, truth in sentencing, and curtailment of furloughs and parole); and the conservative bent has persisted into the 00s. But, in recent years, there seems to be an emerging reversal of the conservative pendulum swing – a softening of some of the harsher tough on crime approaches.
One metric for measuring the bent of criminal justice policies is the size of the prison population. The larger the prison population, the harsher the criminal justice policies. When I began work at the DOC in 1966, the corrections population was 3,500 (including 2,000 is DOC institutions and 1,500 in the county system). In the years just prior to my retirement from the Trial Court in 2013, the population had peaked at 25,000 – a seven-fold increase, which was driven, I believe, primarily by policy. Today, the population is about 12,600 (50% lower than the earlier 25,000), evenly split between state and county systems. This dramatic drop in the prison population suggests a shift in the correctional landscape, with the pendulum arcing back in the more liberal direction. There would seem to be fertile ground for substantive correctional reform. But it may require a different focus for community corrections – one that emphasizes reaching out to community and political leaders to reinforce progressive trends and to convince that now is the opportune time to press for the type of transformational change that occurred in the early 70s. The Boston University Panel, “Crisis. Reform. Repeat.” is an important step in that direction.
By, Francis J. Carney, Jr., Ph.D.
Comments