said he knew him well and was fine with him. When I found out where he was housed, I went to talk with him. I told him my plan and he liked the idea.
Another plus to having the three barbers was that greater diversity was able to be achieved. Now we would have a white, black and Native American barber.
The best barber was white and a witch, so that's what we'll call him. I found out that there were a few witches in the prison. Being a witch is considered to be their religion. They are called wiccans and get whatever special privileges that religion recognizes in being necessary to be able to worship in their own way. This allows these guys to be able to keep special herbs and teas in their cells. If you want to be able to get these herbs and teas, you just have to become a witch. These witches worship in the chapel during what they call Wiccan Ceremonies.
When I told Boomer what I was planning, he didn't believe me. He had been lied to by officers too many times before. He went to the sergeant that hired him and told him Basham was going to fire him. That sergeant came to me and asked me what was going on. I told him. He said, "Really?" I told him I liked what he had done with hiring Boomer, but that I needed him to be able to do the job. He liked the idea and told Boomer that I could be trusted. Boomer knew enough not to trust anyone in here, but he had no choice but to wait and see. He definitely was not pleased with me. He saw me as just another officer screwing with him.
When Boomer saw the posting announcing who got what jobs he was convinced that I was going to fire him.
When Witch came in, he worked on training in Boomer. Boomer was a quick study. Any thing Boomer put his mind to, he could do well.
Witch quickly became lazy and uncooperative. He was supposed to be putting in five hours of work each day, but was only putting in about five hours per week. As long as my swampers did their job, they had no problems with me. If they didn't do their job, they would find out that their lives would be much more peaceful if they just went ahead and did it. Firing people wasn't my first choice with these guys, but if I had accumulated enough documentation on their violations and didn't feel they would eventually turn around and do the job, I had no problem with canning them. I was constantly on this guy to do his job. He filed a grievance on me. The night sergeant reported to me that he was refusing to do his job. Witch said he didn't have to do it because the associate warden said he didn't have to. I informed him that if she wanted to allow him to sit around doing nothing, she can tell me that and until then he would either do the job, quit or I'd have to fire him. He applied for and got a different job elsewhere. From that time on he was my enemy and made it known. He never did anything to cross the line with me though. He was just a major pain in the ass.
Once Witch was gone, Boomer came up to me and thanked me for how I had handled everything. Never again did he ever doubt anything I said.
BUILDING A GOOD CREW
Because the sergeant had given Boomer a break and it worked out well, Boomer came to me and told me he had a friend that was in the same situation that he had been in. Boomers friend had been in so much trouble that he could not get hired anywhere. Boomer asked me if I would hire him and guaranteed me that this guy would do an outstanding job. He said that if his friend didn't do well, he would make him or do it himself. I told him I would talk to the guy and that if it seemed like a good fit, I'd try to get him. But I told him, I didn't need him to monitor him. I told him that his tip on a potential good worker was enough for me.
Getting this guy was relatively easy because no one else wanted him. He did a great job the entire time he worked for me.
Getting tips on inmates that no one else wanted was the start of building the best swamper crew in the entire Department of Corrections. We know this because every cell block in every Minnesota state prison was inspected and evaluated. B-West came out with the best score. This was even with Stillwater being the oldest prison. Our block was the cleanest, best organized, the best maintained as far as painting, repairs and everything working properly. We achieved this because these men were given the opportunity to prove themselves. When they found out we were the best, they worked even harder. Most of them had never gained recognition from positive efforts before. They all took pride in what they had accomplished. We were the block that people were brought to see if the honchos wanted to impress them. I told the crew to not be shy about what they achieved. When people came in and commented on the block, I told the crew to step up and let themselves be identified in being part of it. In most blocks you would see swampers come out and disappear within the first half hour. In this block you could come in at anytime during the day and see at least a couple of them out working. Boomer taking a lead role setting an example was a big part of it.
GOOD TIMES
If I could have fun and not get in trouble I would do it.
Sometimes I had fun and got in trouble, because all of my decisions weren't perfect. Imagine that! So as time went on, there were little if any deviations from protocol by me, because I had acquired too many enemies of, inmates, officers and big shots.
Boomers friend had a stylish walk that he had perfected. It was a kind of a walk that was similar to what I'd see bands in a parade do; a little bit of a hitch in the git-a-long. Watching him, I tried to copy him. He started laughing and gave me a few pointers to perfect it.
Boomer with his booming Barry White type of a voice would occasionally belt out a tune. At times I would join in.
One day Boomer and his buddy were walking down the flag. I came up behind them using the special walk. Boomer started walking like that too. Then he started to sing. We joined in. The three of us were walking down the flag doing the walk and singing. This grabbed the attention of other inmates that were out. They were smiling and laughing and some of them joined in singing. Yes, there were times in this place that were worth remembering.
LOCK YOURSELF IN
One of my most memorable incidents involving Boomer was the time he saved my ass.
Most of the work in the block had been accomplished for the day. A few swampers were out on the flag, but other than that, everyone else was either out of the block at work or locked in their cells.
Boomer was out on the flag sitting at a table.
I was up on the fourth tier with an inmate plumber who was trying to unclog a toilet in a cell. We were never supposed to be on a tier alone with an inmate, but rules were established that were impossible to follow. The number of staff we had, more often than not, didn't allow us to have another officer up there with us. We were told that if we needed more help to call the watch commander and he would get someone. Someone tested this out once. He was chastised and hung up on. If someone had to go up alone, I would volunteer to do it, as would most others.
While I was up there, an inmate returned to the block. He had been at work, went to health services and then returned to the cellblock. Instead of going to his cell, he was hanging out on the flag. After watching him awhile and seeing that he wasn't switching in, I called down to him and directed him to switch in. He did not like this. He was yelling up at me and made it clear that he had no intention of returning to his cell. I directed him again to switch in. He continued yelling and started pacing. I could not make out what he was saying and could not leave this inmate plumber up on the top tier alone. I directed him a final time to switch in or I would call for the squad to come and get him. He continued to disobey, yell and pace. As this was nothing urgent, at the time, I called over the radio to have an unruly inmate escorted out of the unit. Upon seeing me grab my radio and hearing me make the call, this inmate went off. He hollered up to me that he was going to come up and get me.
At this time it seemed rather humorous to me. From the distance I was above him and his bizarre movements, he had the appearance of a little cartoon character. Something like you'd see in a Gulliver's Travel cartoon with the little guy yelling, pacing and shaking his fist up at me. As I found out, in this place, if it doesn't look real, that's when it is probably the most real.
He headed toward the back stairway. I thought he might be going back to his cell because the