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The Lucifer Effect
by one of the students to give the class an insider's view of the realities of
prison life.
Carlo was only four months out of prison and filled with anger at the injus-
tice of the prison system. He railed against American capitalism, racism, black
Uncle Toms who do the Man's work against Brothers, warmongers, and much
more. But he was remarkably perceptive and insightful about social interactions,
as well as exceptionally eloquent, with a resonant baritone voice and seamless,
nonstop delivery. I was intrigued by this man's views, especially since we were
about the same age—me thirty-eight, him forty—and both of us had grown up in
an East or West coast ghetto. But while I was going to college, Carlo was going to
jail. We became fast friends. I became his confidant, patient listener to his ex-
tended monologues, psychological counselor, and "booking agent" for jobs and
lectures. His first job was to co-teach with me a new summer school course at
Stanford University on the psychology of imprisonment. Carlo not only told the
class intimate details of his personal prison experiences, he arranged for other
formerly incarcerated men and women to share theirs. We added prison guards,
prison lawyers, and others knowledgeable about the American prison system.
That experience and intense mentoring by Carlo helped to infuse our little experi-
ment with a kind of situational savvy never before seen in any comparable social
science research.
It is about 7 P.M. when Carlo and I watch one of the counts on the TV moni-
tor that is recording the day's special events. Then we retreat to my superinten-
dent's office to discuss how things are going and how I should handle tomorrow's
Visiting Night. Suddenly, Warden Jaffe bursts in to report that 8612 is really dis-
traught, wants out, and insists on seeing me. Jaffe can't tell whether 8612 is just
faking it to get released and then to make some trouble for us, or if he is genuinely
feeling ill. He insists that it is my call and not his to make.
"Sure, bring him in so I can assess the problem," I say.
A sullen, defiant, angry, and confused young man enters the office. "What
seems to be the trouble, young man?"
"I can't take it anymore, the guards are hassling me, they are picking on me,
putting me in the Hole all the time, and—"
"Well, from what I have seen, and I have seen it all, you have brought this all
on yourself; you are the most rebellious, insubordinate prisoner in the whole
prison."
"I don't care, you have all violated the contract, I didn't expect to get treated
like this, you—"
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"Stop right there, punk!" Carlo lashes out against 8612 with a vengeance.
"You can't take what? Push-ups, jumping' jacks, guards calling you names and
yelling at you? Is that what you mean by 'hassling'? Don't interrupt me. And
you're crying about being put in that closet for a few hours? Let me straighten you
out, white boy. You would not last a day at San Quentin. We would all smell your
Monday's Prisoner Rebellion 69
fear and weakness. The guards would be banging you upside your head, and be-
fore they put you in their real solitary concrete barren pit that I endured for weeks
at a time, they'd throw you to us. Snuffy, or some other bad gang boss, would've
bought you for two, maybe three packs of cigarettes, and your ass would be bleed-
ing bright red, white, and blue. And that would be just the beginning of turning
you into a sissy."
8612 is frozen by the fury of Carlo's harangue. I need to rescue him because
I can sense that Carlo is about to explode. Seeing our prisonlike setting has
brought to his mind years of torment from which Carlo is but a few months away.
"Carlo, thanks for providing this reality check. But I need to know some
things from this prisoner before we can proceed properly. 8612, you realize that I
have the power to get the guards not to hassle you, if you choose to stay and co-
operate. Do you need the money—the rest of which you will forfeit by quitting
early?"
"Yeah, sure, but—"
"Okay, then here's the deal, no more guards hassling you, you stay and earn
your money, and in return all you have to do is cooperate from time to time, shar-
ing a little information with me from time to time that might be helpful to me in
running this prison."
"I don't know about that..."
"Look, think over my offer, and if, later on, after a good dinner, you still want
to leave, then that will be fine, and you will be paid for time you have served. How-
ever, if you choose to continue, make all the money, not be hassled, and cooperate
with me, then we can put the first day's problems behind us and start over.
Agreed?"
"Maybe, but—"
"No need to decide either way right now, reflect on my offer and decide later
tonight, okay?"
As 8612 quietly utters, "Well, all right," I escort him out to the warden's
next-door office to be returned to the Yard. I tell Jaffe that he is still deciding about
staying and will make his decision later on.
I had thought up the Faustian bargain on the spot. I had acted like an evil
prison administrator, not the good-hearted professor I like to think I am. As super-
intendent, I do not want 8612 to leave, because it might have a negative impact
on the other inmates and because I think we might be able to get him to be more
cooperative if we have guards back off their abusive behaviors toward him. But I
have invited 8612, the rebel leader, to be a "snitch," an informer, sharing infor-
mation with me in return for special privileges. In the Prisoner Code, a snitch is
the lowest form of animal life and is often kept in solitary by the authorities be-
cause if his informer role became known, he would be murdered. Later, Carlo and
I retreat to Ricky's restaurant, where I try to put this ugly image behind me for a
short time while enjoying Carlo's new stories over a plate of lasagna.
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