In April 2011, the nation’s last island prison officially closed. McNeil Island Corrections Center, which many referred to as the “good cop” to Alcatraz’s “bad cop,” was located in Puget Sound just west of Steilacoom, Washington, 700 miles north of its more infamous counterpart.
After 135 years, Washington’s $4 billion budget shortfall forced McNeil Island to finally close its doors—though it was widely considered “the prison without walls.” Overlooking majestic Mount Rainier, McNeil Island had a history of reform over retribution—a place where men were educated, taught trades, and developed into reputable, law-abiding citizens.
This isn’t the way most people envision prison or prisoners. Many might base perceptions on some of the more infamous inmates that have resided on McNeil Island over the years. These include the “Birdman of Alcatraz” Robert Stroud, Los Angeles crime boss Mickey Cohen, and a young Charles Manson, arrested for trying to cash a forged government check.
But these inmates were not the norm at McNeil Island, where corrections officers approached their duties with the belief that men can change.
Community: Won’t You Be My Neighbor?
McNeil may have been located on an island, but the residents there didn’t live life as an island. McNeil’s approach to reform was community based. The open design of the facilities, and the built-in escape deterrent called Puget Sound, meant the surrounding community of prison employees and their families were accustomed to living among the inmates.
From its very beginning in 1875, prisoners were part of the support system that sustained a community separated from civilization by three miles of frigid water. Inmates were put to work on the farm and in the orchard. They drove school buses and mowed lawns. They made their own bricks, sewed their own clothing.
Work activities expanded into recreation, including an inmate baseball league, trips to the beach, a prison library, an inmate choir and orchestra, and The Island Lantern, an inmate-staffed newspaper that ran since 1924.
“Communities are vital to success anywhere,” says Prison Fellowship Field Director Randy Schulz, who helped organize many in-prison Bible studies on the island. “All of humanity is built by God with community in mind. So to the extent that anybody plugs into community, they’re going to do better.”
In fact, the fundamental reason anyone is in prison is because they had difficulty living in community in the first place.
“Reentry starts from the day you begin your sentence,” says Schulz. “Inmates must do whatever they can to cultivate relationships on the inside, in preparation for life on the outside.”
In that regard, McNeil Island broke new ground. The inmates, corrections officials, and volunteers there truly knew and experienced community life—which improved the corrections process, life on the island, and the inmates’ chances for success.
A Prison Closed: A New Beginning
All of the 1,200 inmates and nearly all of the 400 staff members from McNeil Island were transferred to other facilities.
This was difficult, considering the strong bond developed between and among inmates, officials, and residents on the island. The truth is, however, that it’s rare for a prisoner to serve his or her entire sentence in the same prison. For the most part, inmates are accustomed to prison transfers and adjusting to new surroundings.
A prison closure, however, has a different impact because of the amount of time it takes to disassemble a complex prison community.
“The hardest part of a prison closing is that it doesn’t close overnight,” notes Schulz. “It’s a process. This week you lose 30 inmates, next week you’ll lose 40. You’ve got officers in a state of shock and uncertainty. Staffing is reduced, programming wanes. Volunteers are discouraged by the lack of attendance. The energy simply bleeds out.”
And when this bleed out occurs, volunteers tend to lose passion. Schulz encourages volunteers to remain strong—even though it can be difficult to deal with dwindling numbers in your programs.
The time that officials and volunteers have with inmates is indefinite. A prisoner can be released or transferred, or a prison can close at any time. So the time given must be used well.
As volunteers, “We must prepare the prisoners,” says Schulz, “building into their lives and making them feel part of the church and community.”
It’s anyone’s guess as to what will happen to the abandoned structure on McNeil Island. Once buzzing with activity and life, the isolated, seven-square-mile patch of land is now desolate and quiet.
This eerie fate does not have to be reflected in the lives of the men that once resided there—and the dedicated staff and volunteers of McNeil Island did their part to make sure this isn’t the case. That’s because McNeil Island was never meant to trap prisoners. It was meant to build them up.
So wherever the road has taken them, former McNeil Island prisoners are stronger and healthier than they were before—a testament to the power of community.
