By Bryan Denson
The Oregonian
Ralph Spinelli served prison stretches in Oregon and California as a younger man, his first term following an armed robbery of Portland’s most famous strip joint — Mary’s Club — in 1969.
He made homes in the Oregon State Penitentiary and northern California’s notorious Pelican Bay State Prison. Spinelli wasn’t a drinker or doper. He stole for money. Only in the last decade, as he made the turn from his 60s into his 70s, did he quit walking into businesses without casing them.
“I’m done,” he says in a recent lunchtime interview in Portland. “I’m done with crime.”
So done, in fact, that Spinelli has become an academic and recently authored a self-published book: “Prison as Punishment,” a memoir about his criminal blunders and what he learned inside the razor wire. He earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of San Francisco on his birthday in 2001. Then in 2006, he earned a master’s degree in creative nonfiction from St. Mary’s College of California, where he now teaches.
Spinelli is 73 now and working toward a Ph.D in the Goldman School of Public Policy at the University of California, Berkeley. His key area of interest is criminal justice; his dissertation focuses on what state prison systems are doing to prepare for their aging inmates.
Here’s a Q&A with Spinelli on the topic of aging prisoners (answers have been edited for brevity):
If you were convicted of a serious crime today, as you close in on your 74th birthday, would you rather spend your time in the prisons of today or in the prisons of decades past? And why?
Decades past. The reason for this is the number of prisoners in the prisons. When I was at Oregon State Penitentiary in 1970, the total population was 800. In Oregon, it was single cells. ... The newer prisons are much more comfortable by design, easier to navigate. They’re cleaner. Things work. The older prisons — San Quentin, Folsom and Oregon State Penitentiary — are designed exactly like the original prisons we designed in this country. Cookie cutters. ... But the numbers of people now is dramatic.
You mentioned in our first interview that prisoners, based on studies, are about 10 years “older” — physiologically speaking — than people on the outside. What problems does that cause the inmates inside the razor wire?
I think more accurately what I said was, inmates are 10 years older physiologically than chronologically. Inmates don’t know they’re physiologically older. States are not treating prisoners like they have a 50-year-old prisoner. They’re just numbers. A 50-year-old goes into the system and gets the same treatment that a 20 year old gets. That creates problems for the prisoners. People that are 60 and are chronologically 70 begin to have incontinence and things like that. These are real issues that need to be addressed. You give them some dignity to walk away with. That doesn’t happen in prison. They don’t take the time for that.
While in prison, I couldn’t get a low-fat diet, a prostate exam. If I were on welfare and I were on the street, I would have those things. We need to look at aging prisoners like they’re people, and treat them accordingly. The fact that you’re in prison is your punishment. Corrections officials don’t have to make their stay more uncomfortable than it already is. People need to be cared for, and it’s going to get more expensive if we let it.
What has your research shown about the general treatment of aging inmates in our nation’s prisons today? How do you think they are being treated?
They’re not being treated well. California is just abysmal. I was meeting with high-ranking officials at the Oregon Department of Corrections and asked one, “Why can’t an elderly person not acquire incontinence pads or Depends if they need them? Why can’t they buy them in the canteen? Why doesn’t the state provide them?” The answer was, “If we sold them to the inmates at the canteen, the younger inmates would steal them from them.” I responded, “That’s just corrections rhetoric. There’s no way a young man would steal an old man’s diapers. If he did do that, he’d get beat down by other inmates, who wouldn’t tolerate that behavior.”
In prison in my 50s, I put in a request for prostrate screening. Flatly denied. I had a family history of cardiac problems. I had had an heart attack at 45 years. I was having symptoms — they turned out to be anxiety, but they were similar — and I asked for a screening, an angiogram. “Oh no,” they said, “we’re not doing that.” I filed grievances to get an EKG. I was escorted to a hospital by corrections officers. I was chained and shackled. I stepped right up on the treadmill and the doctor said, “Take the chains off.”
The doctor explained, “This is a medical test, I need the chains off.” So one of the officers started taking the padlocks off. The other officer said no and withdrew his handgun from his holster and pointed it at my chest and said, “If you move off of there, I’ll shoot you.” A nurse screamed. I looked at the cop and told him, “Stress test doesn’t mean to give me stress.”
Since my conversations with Oregon corrections officials, they’re starting to become more aware that I’m right. This aging thing might become a real issue.
Aging inmates, just like any other Americans of retirement age or older, typically need additional medical care. This would seem especially true of aging prisoners, many of whom have led very tough lives. What kind of medical care do you think aged prisoners are getting in America’s prisons — on a scale of one to 10?
Scale of one to 10? I’d say the very best is 5. States are not addressing those issues yet. Medical care throughout the prison systems is generally poor. There’s a constitutionally established minimum, and it’s just that — minimum. When they go to a hospital, they get terrific care. But they rarely go to the hospital. They go to prison infirmaries. It’s despicable.
Classic example: a guy two bunks over from me at the state prison in Solano was having chest pains and he didn’t want to move. I went and told an officer in the block we had a guy with cardio symptoms. The guys in the clinic said, we’ll be over. They have a Cushman cart ambulance. They didn’t show up. A half hour later, I went back and I said this guy needs attention. The cop told the guy to put his shoes on and head over to the infirmary. He put his shoes on and dropped dead in the yard halfway over there.
There are prisoners who run scams. But if you’re gonna look out for the people who really are sick, and really do need help, that’s one of the things we have to put up with — guys who are faking. I’m not defending all the convicts.
I know you have talked to Oregon prison administrators about their aging population. How do you think the Oregon Department of Corrections treats aged inmates versus the prison systems in other states?
I think Oregon is doing a much better job is than others categorically, across the board. The Department of Corrections’ interest in Oregon is to keep people out; they don’t really want them to come back. They are just realizing that the aging problem is going to be an issue. They’ve gotten sidetracked, running their prisons, managing the numbers — 14,000 prisoners. Now that they are aware of it, they are looking at it and they are looking at the kinds of things bureaucracies go through to put those plans into place.
Now that I’ve been up there and raising noise, they’re starting to pay attention to the aging population. They’ve also asked me to come up and meet with the Lifer’s Club at Oregon State Penitentiary. I have a feeling what correctional officers think they are doing and what prisoners think they are doing is somewhat different. A balance might be appropriate.
What kinds of things should prison systems — including Oregon’s — do for aging inmates that they aren’t doing now?
I think that they should acknowledge them as people and treat them accordingly. Treat them with some dignity and call them sir and give them the health care that they need. Very simple kinds of things. When a person turns 50 years old, assign them to a bottom bunk as a matter of policy. Climbing up on those top bunks is difficult. There are no ladders. There’s no reason for a 60-year-old to have to climb up on a top bunk while a 20-year-old is lying on a bottom bunk. The director of corrections can say, this is our policy now. Happy birthday, you’re 50 years old, you got a bottom bunk. Little things like that would be huge.
“Mr. Spinelli claims that women do not receive mammograms in California prisons,” said Kristina Khokhobashvili, a public information officer for the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. “This is absolutely not true. Cancer treatment and prevention are a big part of medical care at our prisons.”
Copyright 2014 The Oregonian