Guts and glory game veering left8/14/2023 Singleton said the rodeo also offered inmates something worth far more than money: a moment of humanity. “Just because I love her and because I’m her father.” He hopes to sell enough to send his 15-year-old daughter $400. Justin Singleton, a 37-year-old lifer who teaches small engine repair skills, has a booth at the fair. These mentors are also the most likely to be allowed out on the rodeo grounds to mingle with outsiders. Their pay – 75 cents an hour – is also subsidized by the rodeo. To reduce costs, prison officials replaced some of these community college instructors with inmates serving life sentences who had completed educational programs. “What we had to do was look inward at our resources here,” he said. Then, the state’s technical and community college system was hit with budget cuts, forcing it to pull educational staff out of the prison, Abbott said. A prison closure in 2012 sent 1,000 additional inmates to Angola with no increased budget or staff, according to Francis Abbott, a corrections supervisor with the re-entry program. Severe budget cuts have created even more intense need. Rodeo money even subsidizes the crown jewel of the department: the state’s six-year-old re-entry program, which puts eligible inmates in a GED program, and trains them for certification in a trade such as auto repair or air conditioner installation. Many clubs set up rodeo concession stands, where they raise an estimated $80,000 a day. Rodeo revenue props up virtually all of the programs that shape inmates’ lives, including trade schools, activity clubs, an award-winning magazine, and the prison hospice. “We extract an awful lot of good behavior” in exchange for a booth. “It’s a behavioral tool for us,” said Gary Young, assistant warden for programming and communications director. These men can make thousands of dollars in one day. Others who have not yet earned trustee status sell from behind a chain-link fence. The inmates who have been in prison the longest without incident, called trustees, are allowed to sell their work, from snakeskin wallets to rocking chairs, at the craft fair outside the rodeo and mingle with attendees. The rodeo is the only chance most Angola inmates get to make a livable income – and not just inside the arena. But the economics of the prison system challenge the definition of choice. Prison officials are adamant that no one is forced to participate in the rodeo. In fact, the prison inherited the name Angola from the working slave plantation it was before the civil war. This pay scale – coupled with the fact that more than 75% of its 6,300 inmates are black – is why Angola is frequently called a modern-day slave plantation. ‘After you get hit by a bull one time, you know what it feels like and you don’t have that fear any more.’ Photograph: Gerrit de Heus/Alamy Stock Photo That’s a windfall compared with what he can earn the rest of the year, when inmates are required to work for wages of between 2 cents and 75 cents an hour. He’s made more than $400 in just three Sundays. “I don’t really have that much outside help, so instead of calling and asking family members for money, I come out and participate in the rodeo and try to do everything on my own,” Lathan explained. These officials stress that professional cowboys and rodeo clowns are present at all times.ĭespite the danger, there’s always a waiting list of inmates who want to risk their bodies for a shot at a couple of hundred dollars. Since then, the audience has grown along with keen media attention – the prison requires vigilant escorts for any press that comes through the gates, including the Guardian. These precautions are about the only way the tradition has evolved since it began in the 1960s. Reports of serious injuries have resulted in helmets, mouthguards and vests for participants. Inmates receive no training before they go out to perform. “After you get hit by a bull one time, you know what it feels like and you don’t have that fear any more,” he said. Still, he said, it’s “most definitely” worth it for the money. He’s broken ribs, weathered concussions, and dislocated a shoulder. Lathan, who is serving a 65-year sentence for armed robbery, has competed in the rodeo for nine years. When asked why he was participating in the rodeo, Aldrie Lathan had a blunt answer: “Money.” Photograph: Gerrit de Heus/Alamy Stock Photo Most inmate riders are thrown to the ground immediately.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply.AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |