Cyrus was released from the hole and was escorted by two officers wearing white shirts and blue pants. They were broad-shouldered men and said very little as they held on to the shackles wrapped around his waist guiding him to his new destination. So far, his arrival has been trauma and he was looking forward to some civility and tranquility in this new environment. Unaware of the culture that existed within this new place, Cyrus kept his eyes straight forward and shuffled his feet as the shackles dragged on the ground with every step he took.
Arriving at the reception center holding cell, he was placed inside a large chain link holding cell where there were five other men waiting to be called for their intake interview. The officers, removing the shackles with ease appeared to be well skilled in this practice and disappeared from the area almost immediately. There was some issue about Cyrus not having an ID card clipped on him but since he came from the hole, the reception officer assumed that they must have kept it or forgot to return the ID card back to Cyrus when they checked him out this morning.
The mood was quiet and the work was fast paced. Before he knew it, the five men were gone and he was alone in the huge holding cell. Looking around he could see different stalls where there were officers working at computer stations and collecting papers from fax machines, printers and mail boxes. The phones were ringing off the hook and the hustle was quite hectic this early in the morning. Shortly after his arrival, they came for him and escorted him with only a pair of handcuffs to a stall where he was told to change out of his jumpsuit and issued a new one.
Then he was taken to another stall where they took his photo with a number bar underneath his chin reading “47007” indicating his new identification number in the corrections system. Hustling, they tugged on his arm to follow them to the next stall where he was told to take a seat. The woman sitting there was also dressed in a white uniform shirt and blue pants but had shiny little stripes on her collar where the others did not. The first thing that she said to Cyrus was “number please?” Cyrus, confused looked at her and asked “what number do you want?” Irritated by his naïve response, the officer repeated her request “your identification number please, it’s on your ID card.”
Looking at his card he same the number and politely said “47007.” The officer, looking Cyrus straight into his eyes said out loud, “remember that number, it’s who you are when they call you or count you.” It was at that moment that Cyrus realized that he had just lost him name and had become a number in a system that had thousands of people imprisoned and he was just another number to them. Remembering his army service number was easy for he had memorized it quickly and it appeared now he would have to do the same with this number they had just given him when they took his photo and fingerprints.
They moved him from stall to stall as they build a new file on his incarceration packet. Peeking at the file, he could see they had stapled onto the first tab of this file a copy of his photo, his driver’s license and social security card that they had confiscated at the jail and his new fingerprint card. Then he saw the judgment and sentence papers, the pre-sentencing report, the police reports and the trial transcripts as they put it all together into a neat brown file that had a large tab on it that read “Cyrus Allen Grossman, 47007.”
He was returned to the holding cell where the other five men were back and eating a sack lunch provided for the prisoners as the place went into a lock down condition to count the prisoners and take a break from the intake process. The routine appeared well structured as Cyrus, freed from the handcuffs removed, sat on bench eating his bologna sandwiches and drank a red kool aid drink. The mood was somber as one of the prisoners sitting closest to him asks him for his name. “Grossman and yours?” “Fisher, just got here today and doing one years but got a bum rap from my parole officer for being dirty on dope and brought back to serve out the rest of my number. It’s okay though, doing time is easier than doing parole, they don’t hassle you as much in here as they do out there on the street.”
Fisher seemed like an okay dude and was friendly as they sat there and ate their lunch. Others, talking in low voices recognized that the place was temporarily shut down and took naps on the floor as if they had done this before. It was likely that some of them were like Fisher. Returnees who were violated for parole violations and returned back to prison to serve out the remaining time on their sentences.
In the meantime, an officer passed by with a paper sheet in his hand and barked out an order to stand up. “Okay maggots, give me your last name and number out loud as you hand me your ID card so I can verify your information.” Accordingly, all six men stood up and gave the officer their ID card in turn to verify their identities.
This was how they counted prisoners during count time at the reception center and included steps that ensured the right face with the right name was checked every time. Almost as quickly as the officer appeared he disappeared and the men returned back to the benches and sat down. Cyrus could sense the tempo and environment was structured and as time passed he saw more than that. From the moment he arrived he saw officers executing their jobs in rude and hurried fashion. He noticed and heard them complaining to each other about working shorthanded, overtime, too much work to do and other things that indicated to him disappointment and frustration on the job. From an outside view and new to the system this prison seemed to be operating under harsh and rigid conditions.
The manner the prisoners were being handled and searched often by being strip searched every time they move from one point to another created a feeling of deprivation of privacy and liberty, something he had to get used to fast. This stressful environment was psychologically unhealthy and took a toll on the men’s development or attitudes unless they adapted to these unnatural living conditions that you only read about in books or see in prison movies. Certainly, living under these conditions will alter a person’s outlook on life and change or create conflict with the need to sustain relationships on the outside.
The most obvious condition Cyrus acknowledged was the loss of autonomy or ability to decide things on his own. This diminished capacity for decision making was a big loss for those who are good at making decisions but under these terms, Cyrus must yield every decision to a greater power than him, the officers and those resources they control inside here.
This prison environment also leads to symptomatic feelings of paranoia as these men around him were hyper active to be more vigilant of their surroundings and who was sitting where or what was going on all around them. It seemed to foster a feeling of distrust and suspicion. Talking to Fisher he said to him “is it always this dreary around here or does it get better once we are out of here and taken to the housing area?” Snickering a bit, Fisher responded “by the time you do a few months inside the joint, you will have learned and adapted to suppress your emotions, your curiosity, your inclination to ask questions and withdraw from this environment to keep your sanity and survive this place.” Sensing he was probing too much, Cyrus shut his mouth and drank his kool aid.
Thinking inside his head he remembered watching movies that glorified places such as this with brutality, withdrawal and feelings of low esteem and self-worth. It was likely to be every bit of difficult to cope with these issues as he began to gather his inner strengths to function appropriately in what appeared to be a dysfunctional world filled with paranoia and post-traumatic stress disorders. Surely his own war experiences would impact his ability to stay out of trouble and comply with these stringent directives that are rudely spoken and disrespectfully announced. Surely he recognizing the conflicts these characteristics or flaws Cyrus had always worked hard on not participating in as a decent human being.
The final result of Cyrus’s classification process was a trip to the other side of this prison. He would score to be a medium custody prisoner for the next year to establish himself as a permanent resident in a secure prison setting far away from his family and friends. The first thing Cyrus wanted to do was to get a haircut.
Having not much money on his account Cyrus would have to hustle for some credit inside the joint. Realizing almost instantly the culture inside prison is racially motivated. Being racially grouped up was a powerful tool to seek or pursue mutual interests, provide strength in numbers for protection against those who prey on the weak and prevent efforts to extort or gain power over the lives of others while incarcerated.
Being a Caucasian prisoner in a prison with a white race majority provides minor challenges for anyone that did not fit in the system and could create conflicts that are often physically harmful even death. Being a member of a minority race produced major challenges of maintaining their own identity, their own territory and their own efforts to pursue mutual interests in the area of drugs and contraband. Disrespect was a major thing inside the joint and eye contact was avoided to appear to be challenging anyone’s power or dignity. In some instances disrespect could mean death if the insolence is pointed to the wrong person.
Hustling to pick up a few tokens for a haircut, Cyrus caught the eyes of some of the white prisoners that appeared to be running a scam in the housing unit he was assigned to since his arrival. No doubt that his physical strength and physique were instantly recognized and offered him a temporary stay of meddling conduct, he was aware that they were watching him. He had learned to sleep with one eye open and one eye closed and to never turn his back to anyone as he was fortunate even to get a bottom bunk in the dormitory style housing unit assigned.
Double bunked, and crowded, the dorm resembled the army barracks when he was in boot camp but not quite as clean. There were 220 men living in an area designed for 120 as many slept on the floor with a small mattress shoved under the bottom bunk during the daytime. Needless to say, the stench was most annoying as it smelled like feet and cheese inside this wide open dorm like building. In fact, they place smelled foul just like the jail did and nobody was making any efforts to clean it up. Even the officers that worked there refused to give out cleaning supplies because they feared the chemicals would be used against them if a prisoner is irritated or upset at one of the officers.
Cyrus decided to clean the showers and the toilet areas to earn his tokens. His efforts to work hard and stay busy drew attention by a few but none the less, he continued to scrub and mop the area cleaning it up within a few hours after he started. The officers were pleased he did good work and promised him a job on a work detail if he continued to work like he did on the restrooms. Showing he was easy to get along with, he was making progress in establishing himself as an individual and not a member of any group.
It was his paranoia of others that kept him alert that someone might be upset with him and do him harm if the opportunity arises for them to do so. His feelings of paranoia were confirmed by observations of finger pointing by individuals who appear to be reporting to a heavy set Caucasian man who was sitting at the end of the dorm near the exit door and collecting goods from others that paid him rent for living in that dorm under those conditions imposed by this man. He knew it was inevitable before the two would meet and discuss how he was going to fit into the picture while living there.
The barber shop was located around the corner of the dorm where Cyrus lived. The area was under supervision of an officer through the use of a camera that fed a picture to the control center where the officer was located. Picking up audio and video, the officer could monitor the area as well as the surrounding places as it could pan and zoom as needed. Prisoners get haircuts by those of the same race. No black man can cut a white man’s hair and no Hispanic man can cut a black man’s hair. The same was true for the opposite.
These rules were firmly coded to be the rules of the yard. Cyrus, seeking to find the barber for the white race found him talking to the bearded man he knew was a shot caller. It would be awkward to interrupt them while they were doing business but he wanted a haircut thus he waited inside the barber shop until they were done talking. The barber acknowledges Cyrus and nodded his head as he finished talking to the bearded man. Within a few minutes, the barber, holding a grey clothed cape in hand and a barber kit in the other, walked up to Cyrus and introduced himself as Hoss. Shaking Hoss’s hand Cyrus introduced himself as Grossman but Hoss interrupted him and said I know who you are “Ranger” and sit down so we can talk and get your hair cut.
In prison people pick up nicknames in lieu of their real names. It appeared that the army ranger tattoo on Cyrus’s arm was the reason they named him Ranger. It was not disrespectful and it sounded proper thus Cyrus adopted the name for future references. Hoss asked him, “How do you want your hair cut ranger?” Cyrus taking a moment said, “Short, keep it short but not too short.” Hoss puzzled said “you don’t want it shaved off like the rest of us man?” It is easier to keep and it keeps the lice out of your hair.” Thinking about what Hoss had said, he said ‘go ahead and shave it all off man, I think it will grow back quickly so do it.” Grinning ear to ear, Hoss took the clippers and began to shave Cyrus’s head while talking to him about how he was going to cut his hair leaving nothing on his head except a shiny surface on his head.
Hoss started talking and said to Cyrus, “First off, your hair has to be trimmed down to stubble. Anything longer makes for a difficult shave. Then you trim it down to stubble with a set of hair clippers. It doesn’t have to be cut perfectly evenly, but try to get is as short as possible. When you’re ready to start shaving, get your head as wet as possible. If you shave after you shower, your hair should be softer and easier to cut. Being wet and soft reduces the chance that you’ll suffer from razor bumps or ingrown hairs. Apply a shaving lubricant and get it worked in as well as possible.”
Laughing, Hoss said to Cyrus “This is an important step. The better your lubricant is worked in, the better your shave. It can make a big difference both to closeness and to comfort, so don’t neglect this simple part of your routine. You gotta keep it up if you want to look good.” Once he was done, he gave a small tube of lubricant to Cyrus telling him it was “compliments of French, the bearded dude I was talking to earlier.” The head felt different but the look was new. Hoss had not cut him once and did a good job making it clean. The new look however drew some unwanted attention to Cyrus who noticed the officers checking him out as well.
Suddenly it dawn upon him as he realized that he had shaved his head just like many of the other Caucasian prisoners but those who always hung out with French, the shot caller. Unaware that he had personalized his looks with his own race, he was immediately thought of by others including staff as a member of French’s group who were all “skinheads.”
Originally, the skinhead subculture was primarily based on those elements of politics and not race. However, that has changed since now the group has grown into a racial motivated group. Since Cyrus was being recognized as a skinhead, he projected the same attitudes toward race and politics as the others since he inadvertently aligned himself with those skinheads that live on this yard. It was at this time that many viewed him to be an anarchist with the associated principles.
Again this naïve attitude to trust another’s opinion or recommendation has caused him to re-think making decisions for himself rather than the routine he was slowly becoming used to being told what to do. Sooner or later, he knew French and him would meet and hash out any differences that may exist between the two. In the meantime, officers were becoming weary of Cyrus as his appearance displayed a new attitude and emotions of contempt as the shaved head represented principles not endorsed by those in uniform at this prison. Intuitively thinking inside his head, he was wishing for the hair to grow back quickly and remove this stigma he had placed upon himself in error.
Cyrus accepted his mistake as he walked back to his cubicle and sat down on his bunk. Scratching his bald head, he could hear laughter in the back where French was sitting, surrounded by a group of skinheads.
Aspen prison was approximately 120 miles away from where Cyrus lived. His parents, already getting old and his mother being sick lately, had a hard time traveling the miles to come visit Cyrus on a regular basis. It appeared that there was a pattern of moving prisoners farther away from their families as a strategy by the corrections department for whatever reasons
Realizing that the cost of visitation and transportation expenses would further restrict his family from visiting him often, he accepted the fact that he was going to be alone for quite some time. His efforts to maintain contact with them and others would have to be focused on writing letters and talking on the telephone but even these phone calls were expensive as the rates negotiated by the prison administration and the vendor for the phone service appeared to be triple that of the normal fees charged to people in the communities and not in prison. Cyrus sensed these expenses would impact his ability on having family contact. He knew the costs would diminish his efforts to stay connected in fear of draining the financial security of his family and others wanting to stay in touch with him. Thinking to himself, perhaps it would be better if he waited a while before asking his parents to come up and visit him and let his hair grow back so that he would not shock them with his new look.