By Mary Divine
Pioneer Press
ST. PAUL, Minn. — When it became clear that the Stillwater prison, built in 1914, wasn’t secure enough to house Minnesota’s most violent and dangerous offenders, Howard Costello and others led the charge for a new maximum-security prison.
Helping oversee the financing, design and construction of the “supermax” Minnesota Correctional Facility-Oak Park Heights was a highlight of Costello’s long career at the Minnesota Department of Corrections, said his son, Scott Costello.
Howard Costello, a former acting commissioner and deputy commissioner of the department, died unexpectedly Monday at Lakeview Hospital in Stillwater after suffering a heart attack while being treated for kidney stones. He was 87.
“He was very proud of how innovative the (Oak Park Heights) prison was,” Scott Costello said. “I remember when he took us on a tour before it opened in 1982, he was really bursting with pride about what they had accomplished together.”
The prison, which is built into a hill, has design features that have been imitated around the world, Costello said.
“What he was most proud of was innovating and doing things that nobody else had ever done before,” he said. “It has really withstood the test of time; there have never been any escapes. Here you are taking the worst criminals, the worst elements, and you are neutralizing their trouble-making ability.”
Howard Costello of Stillwater started his career in 1949 as a state parole and probation agent.
He served as associate warden of the Stillwater prison from 1956 to 1961, when he became assistant commissioner, deputy commissioner and, finally, acting commissioner for the Corrections Department, which had been created in 1959.
When he retired in 1992, Costello held the distinction of being the department’s longest-serving deputy commissioner.
“Howard probably knew corrections and the department better than anybody ever has and probably ever will,” said Orville Pung, who was corrections commissioner for 11 years under three governors.
“He carried the culture of the agency from the past all the way to the future,” Pung said. “He was able to do that because everybody liked Howard. He was the kind of guy you couldn’t help but like. He was always straightforward and honest. Every commissioner kept him on through all the various administrations, so you know there was some real substance to the man.”
EVEN PRISONERS RESPECTED HIM
Costello was respected by everybody -- judges and legislators, guards and governors, even inmates, said Jim Zellmer, former director of institution support services for the department.
“Everyone knew he was a square shooter,” Zellmer said. “He just knew what to do. He got people to work with him and for him, and he just got the job done. He was at the same time a complete gentleman about it. You never saw him ranting or raving or throwing things or anything like that.”
Costello served as the Corrections Department’s legislative liaison for more than 30 years.
“He had a lot of credibility with the Legislature,” Pung said. “He spent hours (at the Capitol). You know the boring hours you have to put in; he had the patience of Job.”
Costello worked with legislators on both sides of the aisle and “managed to keep his political views quiet,” Scott Costello said. “He could work with anyone -- from extreme liberals to conservatives. It takes a real, special talent to be able to sit through those long meetings, listen to political blowhards and keep your own political views quiet, so you can work with both sides. That was one of his great talents.”
In 1989, Howard Costello received the Minnesota Corrections Association Corrections Person of the Year Award.
A MARINE IN JAPAN
Costello grew up in St. Paul and graduated from Murray High School in 1944. He received a bachelor’s degree in criminology from the University of Minnesota in 1949 and a master’s degree in social welfare from the University of California, Berkeley in 1954.
In his self-published memoir, “Memories of My Life Journey,” Costello, a Marine during World War II, describes how he got his start in corrections:
“One day, I was called into my commander’s office,” he wrote. “He said, ‘Well, you’re the only one in our unit with any experience in criminology. I see you went to college, so we’re going to assign you to the Fukuoka Prefectural Prison. This is a civilian state prison, and you’ll be responsible for making sure that it’s operating properly.’ I protested I didn’t know a damn thing about prisons, that I was just twenty years old. He said that was my assignment, no arguments accepted. Dismissed!”
Costello ran the 2,000-bed civilian prison for nine months, helping to convert the prison’s industries from making parts for Japanese military airplanes to making office furniture.
“Besides the big conversion project, I generally made sure that nobody was screwing off, that nobody was escaping, and that security was okay,” Costello wrote. “It was a neat assignment because the warden had a big house right next to the prison, and we held a lot of events there, parties and the like. He also had a big yacht, and he took me out on it. I could invite anybody from the base with me to picnics on some islands, with beer, women and food.”
Costello’s first wife, Eudora, died in 1987; the couple had two sons, Scott of White Bear Lake and Tom of Blaine, and a daughter, Sue Bonitz of Maplewood.
Costello and his second wife, Carol, recently celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary. Together, the couple had seven children, 16 grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren, Scott Costello said.
A memorial service will be at 11 a.m. Saturday at First Presbyterian Church in Stillwater. Visitation will be an hour before the service.