In the Federal prison system, at least at the security levels where I was, you had to work.  Everybody had a job.  Those with medical problems were given tasks like wrapping tableware in napkins, but everybody else had a true job.  At Allenwood I started on the painting crew, and soon was moved to the plumbing detail (the CO in charge ran both details).  When I transferred to McKean, I took a job on the orderly detail, where I stayed until I got tired of all the rackets being run there (see “The Sunglasses” and other stories in a prior Eternal Sunshine for details on that experience).  That’s when I decided to sign up for Landscaping.

At Allenwood, the “punishment detail” was called CSS (Compound Sanitation Service).  They walked around the compound, using brooms, mops, and dustpans to clean up any trash they found; the inmates called it Goose Shit Patrol, because that was really what they had to do all day – sweep up goose shit from the sidewalks.  Allenwood was overrun by wildlife, from geese to starving deer to stray cats to lots of other various birds and animals.  The job sucked, and nobody wanted to do it, so all the troublemakers got moved to CSS. 

At McKean, Landscaping had the same reputation.  If you were fired from your job, or caught stealing food or some other offense, that’s where you were sent.  It was considered a terrible assignment, mainly because the inmates on Landscaping actually had to work.  McKean was in the middle of the Allegheny National Forest in Pennsylvania, so there were literally tons of leaves to rake up, lawns to mow, lawn trimmings to bag or crate, bushes to trim, and branches to collect.  But in the winter, the REAL work started.  Aside from the typical snow you expect in that part of the country, we were close enough to Lake Erie to be subject to “lake effect” snow, which could dump multiple inches on us every hour, all day long and night long.  Some members of the crew (or members of the Garage crew) would plow and salt and sand the roads, but who do you think had to manually shovel all the sidewalks and stairs, and spread sand, everywhere from the main office all the way to the Admin building at the Medium Security facility?  You got it: the Landscaping crew.  The “front circle” (which was the entrance to the Medium Security prison) was where you spent most of your time.  There was a large front sidewalk area, plus sidewalk ¾ of the way around the circle, and a long steep stairway up a hill to the staff parking lot.  There was also a short sidewalk in front of the flagpole, in the center of the circle.  The snow could literally fall so fast that by the time you pushed a shovel from one side of the front sidewalk area to the other, you’d turn around and find the path covered in white powder all over again.  Shoveling snow at McKean was a losing battle.

Even when it wasn’t snowing, winter work on the Landscape crew was a real pain in the ass.  If it was icy (which it often was) you had to crack the ice buildup on the roads and sidewalks and shovel the ice away.  Use of salt to melt the ice was extremely limited, partially to save money and partially because of environmental concerns from being in a national forest.  So you were expected to spread dirt only, in order to give people a bit of traction, but that was it.  So we had ice chippers which we’d crack ice with, then shovels to try and move it.  Or, if it had warmed above freezing, you had the pleasure of using big brooms to sweep up all the dirt and gravel that had accumulated on the roads during the last storm, which we then shoveled into trucks.  There was always something to do, and if there wasn’t, Burger found something.

Burger was the CO in charge of Landscaping, and was regarded as a real hard-ass.  He loved to berate his inmates, and had no tolerance for laziness or shitty attitudes.  Since almost everyone on the detail was there because of punishment, the lack of effort most crew members demonstrated was rather apparent.  But Burger took his job very seriously.  Winter weather was no joke to him; he wanted to keep everything clear in any area where staff members had to drive or walk.  If the inmate areas were a bit badly attended to, well, that could almost be tolerated. But I suppose that was more because he couldn’t see their condition as easily from his pickup truck, which he drove around all day long checking on all the crews working in spread-out areas.  You never knew when Burger’s truck would sneak up on you, so it was best to keep moving.

For me, none of this was really a problem.  My time in prison went faster when I was busy, which is why I had done so well on the plumbing detail at Allenwood.  My CO there learned quickly that I’d do my job properly, fix what I could, report to him when a job was beyond my capability.  He treated me very well, and I know a lot of that was because I understood he had placed trust in me and if I abused that trust I was showing HIM a lack of respect.  Much of my plumbing work was unsupervised, and often involved going into restricted areas.  I could also be awakened at any hour of the night, or called upon at any moment on weekends, if an emergency arose.  But my days would move by quickly, which was the real goal anyway.  That, and the fact that I was paid a lot more than 12 cents an hour because of the quality and quantity of my work.

All of this entered into my decision to be one of the only two people I knew of to volunteer for Landscape detail at McKean.  The other guy had been refused by Burger; he knew anybody who volunteered for his crew had to be a little nuts.  But with me, partially on the recommendation of two guys already working for him, he was willing to roll the dice.  Obviously I had to be a little twisted, especially as this job change took place the day after we’d had our first light dusting of snow.  Why would anybody want to spend their days pushing a shovel around when they could be inside the housing unit, cleaning floors and finding ways to avoid work?  The look I got from the manager in the Administration office when I brought him my job change request after Burger had signed it was priceless.  I asked him if anything was wrong, and he shrugged his shoulders as he countersigned it, saying “No, I’m just wondering what the fuck your problem is, volunteering for Landscaping.  But if you want to kill yourself, go ahead.” 

With those words on encouragement, he handed me the BP-8 form back, and I marched out of the office and back to the chow hall, where Burger was waiting.  I was now officially on the Landscaping detail…for better or for worse.  And I knew that it was life joining the Mafia: once you were in, there was no way to get out.  You were a member for life, until death do us part.