The Ballad of Robert Clark
By: William, Dollar Bill
Tags: Life Lessons, Mental Health, Culture, Incarceration, Education

Of the many issues which face prison officials in the United States’ beleaguered penal system, the institutionalization of its detainees stands out as one of the most serious. The problem of inmates who have grown so comfortable with prison that they prefer life on the inside to the outside is one that needs to be addressed. I mean…let’s face it. How ya gonna keep a criminal from committing a crime when he’d rather live locked up than free?

Enter Robert Clark, a veritable poster boy for institutionalized inmates. Robert was 54 years old when I met him at MCC federal prison in downtown Manhattan, New York. Of those 54 years, Robert had spent 27 of them incarcerated. I don’t know the nature of all of Robert’s convictions. But mostly, they involved obtaining money to feed his heroin habit which by his own admission, was considerable and ongoing.

You would think that while incarcerated, there would be no drugs available and he could kick his addiction. But you’d be kidding yourself. There is no shortage of drugs in prison.

Or at least where I was. Robert got high every day on a combination of coffee and suboxone, a drug that is supposed to help people kick their opioid habit but in fact, helps prisoners keep it.

Robert came into the unit about a month after I did. With a marine haircut, bandy legs, a leaning gait, and no teeth, he resembled a bird more than a human being. I thought nothing of it. He was just one of many bizarre-looking inmates I didn’t really want to know.

But Robert moved into my tier. And then he drew a work assignment in the kitchen where I coincidentally had a job. There was no way I wasn’t going to get to know Rob.

Any interaction I’d had with Rob beforehand indicated to me that he was a boring drone with nothing to say of interest and several opinions typical of conspiracy-enthused inmates. There were only two prisoners I related to in my year at MCC. And he wasn’t one of them.

That is until I saw him work. Rather than dog it like most inmates and simply steal as much as they could while avoiding work as much as possible, Rob headed straight for the dishwashing area where traditionally, Hispanics toiled at the hottest and hardest job at the prison. For some reason, Rob wanted that job. And even though he spoke no Spanish, los hombres welcomed him because the son-of-a-bitch worked like ten immigrants.

Suddenly, I had a newfound respect for Rob. I was one of those inmates who figured any job worth doing was a job worth doing well. And Rob was doing his job well.

After a couple of days of Rob ingratiating himself with the dish crew, the pedophile who ran the warehouse observed to Rodriguez, our CO boss: “looks like you broke the color barrier at the dish machine, Rod!” Indeed he had. Or actually, Robert had broken it himself of his own volition.

Bizarrely, Robert and I became friends based on a mutual admiration for each others’ work ethic. But still, I had my reservations. Rob was also a huge thief. He’d steal anything that wasn’t nailed down and sell it upstairs in the unit. The officers knew he was walking off with half the kitchen and actually made light of it. Just so he worked his ass off, he could steal all he wanted. They had no problem with that.

One day while pondering his September 6th out date, Robert issued his timeless quote on being institutionalized: “I’m out in time for the cold weather. I’d better kick a cop in the shins so I have a place to stay warm this winter.”

The sad truth is that Rob had no place to go when he was released. Whatever family he had, had disowned him and as it turned out, he was allowed to crash at one of his fellow junkies’ residences. Essentially, the Feds didn’t know what to do with him. He was considered an incorrigible and institutionalized inmate with no hope of ever escaping the system for more than a few months.

Rob’s plan when he was freed was by his own admission: “score a fix and find some dirty pussy.” Hardly a formula for succeeding anywhere but behind bars!”

While MCC was considered an administrative and transient prison, there were many inmates who’d been locked up for over 5 or 10 years in the midst. No, they hadn’t been at MCC for all that time. But they’d been incarcerated for that period. Just at other prisons.

And what amazed me as much as any other bizarre reality of prison life was how many of those inmates looked very comfortable in their environment. Really, all they were missing was the companionship of women.

Otherwise, they appeared to be more than happy spending all day in their criminal element. The amount of noise, laughter, and general contentedness was alarming. Why leave when you’re getting all your needs taken care of by the government?

In fact, one guard confessed to me that the prison had had more than one inmate who didn’t want to leave on his release date, as strange as that may sound.

Personally, I was not a big fan of prison. As I said, there were only two inmates I could relate to on any intellectual level. And when they both left 4 months before my release, I was lost. But still, I could feel the pull of institutionalization.

My life was a major shit show the month before my self-surrender what with taking care of all the details of managing my money and keeping my apartment so that a year later when I emerged, I could continue my “normal” life. Prison felt secure. I had a bed, a job, and plenty of food. And none of those awful headaches I encountered the month before surrendering.

I have been out for a year now. And what with covid and probation, I still feel incarcerated in some way though thankfully, I no longer shit in front of my celly. But that year out hasn’t dimmed my recollection of incarceration and the myriad issues the Bureau of Prisons faces (and fails at) in managing and rehabilitating a system that confines many more US citizens than it really needs to.

The USA has only 5% of the world’s population, but 25% of its inmate population! But that’s an issue that needs to be addressed in another article.

For more stories about my prison “vacation,” with JEFFREY EPSTEIN and other suicidal inmates try these:

And you definitely don’t want to go to a prison dentist!

Incredibly, I spent hours alone with JEFFREY EPSTEIN before he killed himself, and was given PAUL MANAFORT as my celly when New York State shipped him into MCC to answer State charges. Here’s a comparison of the two personalities: