Meet Antonio Jerry ("Tony"), the six-foot-five-inch-tall, intelligent, powerfully built, rough-looking, but kind-hearted jailer of Stony Island ("Stony") Maximum-Security Prison. Tony was always clean and well-dressed - a gentleman with an occasional twinkle in his eyes that strangely had a calming effect on everyone he met. He never judged anyone, not even the inmates of Stony, who, as you know, are among the worst of criminals. Tony, however, was kind and respectful of everyone. What distinguished him most was his strong character, humility, and patience.
As you'll soon see, he was the ideal man for his job because scorn or condescension from jail staff only had one effect on these fear-nothing, care-for-nothing, easily provoked wretches - make them even worse!
The first thing I noticed when I began serving at Stony as a sub-jailor was the respect prisoners had for Tony. You could also call it a distant affection. He greeted every new arrival with quiet kindness, and throughout their stay, he remained the same, treating them well. Though newcomers initially viewed his demeanor with suspicion, they soon realized he was genuine - Tony did not hold their past against them, no matter how dark. Moreover, the senior inmates who had known him for years sincerely respected him, which was proof enough for the newcomers. Tony was sincere to everyone and always kept his promises, regardless of whom he made them to. Over time, this had a calming effect - being treated well meant the inmates had no reason to worry about issues leading to fights with jail staff - when there's no provocation to be expected, where's the need to fight, in any case?
Although no one said it openly, they appreciated the peace and goodwill it created.
Because of his remarkable prison management skills, Tony slowly became a hero to me.
One of his greatest successes, which I recall clearly even today, was an event he introduced at Stony called "Say Something Nice Today!" It was aimed at uncovering the goodness that still existed within each inmate.
All were welcome. However, participants had to refrain from saying anything negative about others - absolutely nothing! Instead, they were encouraged to point out any positive qualities, no matter how small, particularly in the case of the worst inmates. For instance, if someone struggled to find anything redeeming about criminal X - one with a record of 20 murders, five rapes, and years of drug trafficking - except his teeth, he might simply say, "X has nice teeth." Likewise, if an unrepentant child molester openly admitted he would re-offend if released, provoking utter disgust, someone might still say, "Y speaks clearly; he has a sharp mind." You could also stay silent if you wished, but never anything bad.
I attended one "Say Something Nice Today!" event while I worked at Stony. At its conclusion, Tony addressed the gathering. "Friends," he began, "no one is ever born a criminal. Every one of us came into this world with the desire to live, love, and treat others fairly. But somewhere along the way, someone or something forced or deceived us into a life of crime - that's why you're here today.
"All I want to tell you is this: no matter what brought you here, some good still exists in you.
"The constant barrage of negativity - the terrible things we hear about ourselves - has taken its toll. We hear we are flawed, evil, rotten, and worthless - and we're saturated with it. So why not switch off the cycle of bitter self-condemnation today? Why not find something - just one thing - genuinely good about ourselves to ponder?
"You agree you are the products of unfortunate circumstances. But what if someone could plead your case, arguing that it was your circumstances - not your soul - that led you to crime?"
He then unfolded the list of positive remarks the inmates had contributed that day. Many were short and plain, like:
* "A has good hair."
* "Even at 60, B has perfect vision and doesn't need glasses to read."
* "C is a former Marine and can help with physically demanding tasks."
Holding the list in his hand, Tony continued, "What if A, with his wonderful hair, could start fresh in a business based or related to human hair? And if B, with his sharp eyesight, could work as a secretary for the elderly, reading letters, emails, and documents aloud, and then assisting them to respond? And what if someone gave you a second chance at life like a clean blank sheet of paper to write a new story on, after trashing your past? How would you respond?"
The event had a visible impact on the inmates. Their faces brightened, and soon small groups formed, talking animatedly among themselves.
Was there truly hope ahead, or would fate inevitably pull them toward that dark destination they knew awaited them? I can't tell for sure, but I'm certain of one thing: it lightened everyone's mood. A smile lit almost everyone's face!
THE END
As you'll soon see, he was the ideal man for his job because scorn or condescension from jail staff only had one effect on these fear-nothing, care-for-nothing, easily provoked wretches - make them even worse!
The first thing I noticed when I began serving at Stony as a sub-jailor was the respect prisoners had for Tony. You could also call it a distant affection. He greeted every new arrival with quiet kindness, and throughout their stay, he remained the same, treating them well. Though newcomers initially viewed his demeanor with suspicion, they soon realized he was genuine - Tony did not hold their past against them, no matter how dark. Moreover, the senior inmates who had known him for years sincerely respected him, which was proof enough for the newcomers. Tony was sincere to everyone and always kept his promises, regardless of whom he made them to. Over time, this had a calming effect - being treated well meant the inmates had no reason to worry about issues leading to fights with jail staff - when there's no provocation to be expected, where's the need to fight, in any case?
Although no one said it openly, they appreciated the peace and goodwill it created.
Because of his remarkable prison management skills, Tony slowly became a hero to me.
One of his greatest successes, which I recall clearly even today, was an event he introduced at Stony called "Say Something Nice Today!" It was aimed at uncovering the goodness that still existed within each inmate.
All were welcome. However, participants had to refrain from saying anything negative about others - absolutely nothing! Instead, they were encouraged to point out any positive qualities, no matter how small, particularly in the case of the worst inmates. For instance, if someone struggled to find anything redeeming about criminal X - one with a record of 20 murders, five rapes, and years of drug trafficking - except his teeth, he might simply say, "X has nice teeth." Likewise, if an unrepentant child molester openly admitted he would re-offend if released, provoking utter disgust, someone might still say, "Y speaks clearly; he has a sharp mind." You could also stay silent if you wished, but never anything bad.
I attended one "Say Something Nice Today!" event while I worked at Stony. At its conclusion, Tony addressed the gathering. "Friends," he began, "no one is ever born a criminal. Every one of us came into this world with the desire to live, love, and treat others fairly. But somewhere along the way, someone or something forced or deceived us into a life of crime - that's why you're here today.
"All I want to tell you is this: no matter what brought you here, some good still exists in you.
"The constant barrage of negativity - the terrible things we hear about ourselves - has taken its toll. We hear we are flawed, evil, rotten, and worthless - and we're saturated with it. So why not switch off the cycle of bitter self-condemnation today? Why not find something - just one thing - genuinely good about ourselves to ponder?
"You agree you are the products of unfortunate circumstances. But what if someone could plead your case, arguing that it was your circumstances - not your soul - that led you to crime?"
He then unfolded the list of positive remarks the inmates had contributed that day. Many were short and plain, like:
* "A has good hair."
* "Even at 60, B has perfect vision and doesn't need glasses to read."
* "C is a former Marine and can help with physically demanding tasks."
Holding the list in his hand, Tony continued, "What if A, with his wonderful hair, could start fresh in a business based or related to human hair? And if B, with his sharp eyesight, could work as a secretary for the elderly, reading letters, emails, and documents aloud, and then assisting them to respond? And what if someone gave you a second chance at life like a clean blank sheet of paper to write a new story on, after trashing your past? How would you respond?"
The event had a visible impact on the inmates. Their faces brightened, and soon small groups formed, talking animatedly among themselves.
Was there truly hope ahead, or would fate inevitably pull them toward that dark destination they knew awaited them? I can't tell for sure, but I'm certain of one thing: it lightened everyone's mood. A smile lit almost everyone's face!
THE END
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