Island of the Damned by Alix Kirsta Read Free Book Online

prisoners by the parole board, and ask Rao if they were satisfactory. Rao, in this instance, marched out with the list looking very sour and glum. The warden called after him: ‘Hey, what’s the idea of walking out with that?’ Rao came back with the list and pointed out that some of the men whom he had recommended for parole before Christmas would not get out until March. He was obviously dissatisfied.” In one case, said Schulman, a prisoner told him of a case where an inmate obtained an early release by having members of his family pay a relative of a member of the parole board at the rate of $100 for every month that was cut off his prison time. In another case, a former deputy commissioner of the Department of Correction – employed before Austin MacCormick and David Marcus were appointed – acted as a go-between for the New York City’s district leaders and certain members of the parole board.
    Shulman revealed that the four most important rackets in the prison controlled by Rao and Cleary’s groups, were the traffic in drugs, the trade in stolen food, the distribution of privileges and the sale of inmates’ clothing. “The man assigned to the ‘clothes box’, the place where newcomers shed their civilian garments, would pick out the best clothing and sell it. He would also confiscate anything of value he found in the pockets. Very often prisoners were released in the dead of winter with the thinnest of clothing because their own garments had been sold.” Schulman told reporters, adding that in contrast, Rao and Cleary had valets to press their clothes, polish their shoes, cook their food and wait on them hand and foot as if they were feudal barons. “The average prisoner on the island could recognise the gang leader and prison boss by the sharp crease in his trousers, his polished shoes, the good cigars he smoked and his general bandbox sleekness that bespoke the best of personal attention.”
    When it came to jobs on the island, these had to be purchased by prisoners. “Who got the money? I don’t know. I heard from inmates that men paid from $50 to several hundred dollars for graft jobs,” said Shulman. Gambling was conducted by the “captains” – gangsters who occupied strategic positions in the dormitories and wings of the prison blocks. “They got a ‘cut’ on every play and averaged about $15 a day in cash and in commodities such as cigarettes.” So complete was the gangsters’ control according to Schulman, that they installed their own wiring systems for radio and private telephones. “They used this telephone system to send warnings back to isolated blocks when guards or keepers were approaching.” Schulman also revealed that any orders made to the warden by officers from the headquarters of the Department of Correction were generally ignored. “But on the other hand, as far as I could determine, orders from outside politicians – district leaders and the like – were obeyed with alacrity. There were constant phone calls to the warden from outside. Every time the warden heard that a certain leader was on the wire, he would jump up as if he were shot from a catapult, and run to the phone booth. He took all those calls in the booth.” Schulman quoted a former deputy warden of the prison who had confessed to him: “I am often asked to do things that would make even a hardened prisoner blush.”
    As if on cue, several prominent establishment figures also went public about the longstanding situation on Welfare Island. Joseph Fishman, a respected former deputy commissioner of the Department of Correction, noted for unsuccessfully attempting to reform the prison service, declared that undermanned prison staff had little option but to delegate authority to certain prisoners, relying on them to keep order. “Curiously enough, the worst class of prisoners wields the influence. Men like Rao, bad as they are, have to be used to a certain extent. There should however be a demarcation line,