Practice and Theory of Probation and Parole 9780231888677

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Practice and Theory of Probation and Parole Second Edition

Practice and Theory of Probation and Parole Second Edition

DAVID DRESSLER

Columbia University Press NEW YORK AND LONDON

This book incorporates some material from the author's Probation and Parole, published 1951 Copyright 1951 Columbia University Press Copyright © 1959, 1969 Columbia University Press ISBN 0-231-02956-X Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 74-89861 Printed in the United States of America 9

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To those delightful, irritating, ingratiating, infuriating, invigorating, impatient revolutionaries, realistic idealists, humanistic scientists who brighten the way—my students.

Preface Rereading my Practice and Theory of Probation and Parole, I am impressed with how outdated it is, how much the correctional field has changed in the few years since 1959, when the first edition appeared. Surely the past decade has seen more ferment than any previous decade. It is therefore time for a restatement of where we stand and what we are about in probation and parole. In telling that story I have of course relied on a great many sources: practitioners and academicians, social workers, sociologists, and psychologists, all of whom have contributed the basic knowledge in the field. I have had direct, personal help as well, and take this opportunity of expressing my thanks to those who so kindly went out of their way, busy as they were, to express their ideas and assess mine: Messrs. Phil Danky, Sidney Dwoskin, and Carl Virden of the Los Angeles County Probation Department; Professors T. C. Esselstyn, David S. Milne, and Richard O. Nahrendorf, respectively of San Jose State College, San Diego State College, and California State College at Los Angeles. Mr. Sol Rubin of the National Council on Crime and Delinquency has been very helpful. To all, my deeply felt gratitude. They have stimulated my thinking in numerous areas. However, the points of view expressed in this book are my own, and I accept responsibility for them. DAVID

Van Nuys,

California

DRESSLER

Contents 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16.

Preface The Evolution of Correctional Thought Origins of Probation Probation Today Origins of Parole Parole Today Probation and Parole: Companion Services Selection in Probation and Parole Research on Selection Supervision in Probation and Parole: Casework Supervision in Probation and Parole: Group Work and Community Organization Supervision in Probation and Parole: CommunityCentered Programs Summing Up the Helping Process Conditions of Probation and Parole Results in Probation and Parole Some Administrative Considerations New Directions Index

vii 1 16 33 56 77 97 106 145 159 183 201 216 236 259 278 300 329

Practice and Theory of Probation and Parole Second Edition

1 The Evolution of Correctional Thought According to the President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice (hereinafter referred to as the President's Commission), " . . .the reports of crime, and the fear of crime have eroded the basic quality of life of many Americans." The Commission had in mind that in a study it made in high crime areas of two large cities, 43 percent of persons interviewed stayed off the streets at night because of their fear of crime. Thirty-five percent indicated they did not speak to strangers any more, and 20 percent said they would like to move to another neighborhood because of their fear.1 Clearly, crime is a grave social concern, and the public is reminded of this daily. Newspapers carry accounts of murders, robberies, burglaries, sex crimes. Officiai documents testify to the extent of the crime problem— 5,600 murders, 34,700 aggravated assaults with a gun, 118,000 rob beries, 2,500,000 larcenies, and 486,600 auto thefts reported to police in 1965. That year, fourteen out of every 1,000 inhabitants of the United States were victims of what the Federal Bureau of Investigation classifies as serious crimes.What do we do about the perpetrators of such crimes? We arrest and convict a veritable army of them. Two million Americans were received in prisons and juvenile training schools or placed on probation during 1 President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, The Challenge of Crime in a Free Society (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. v. 2 U . S. Department of Justice, Uniform Crime Reports for the United States (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1965), p. 1.

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1965.3 On any given day there are over a million persons in prisons and jails, and on probation and parole.4 Why do we place them on probation? Why do we incarcerate them? Why do we send them out again on parole? In order to "correct" them, we say. Punishment alone does not help offenders change their ways. We must "treat" them, and that is the function of our "correctional" program. In other words, at least in theory and to an extent in practice, we are committed to what is often called the rehabilitation of offenders. To this end we employed 121,000 persons in correctional work in 1965.5 That is a respectable number. But only 20 percent of the employees were engaged in treatment work in or out of institutions. The balance, 80 percent, were responsible mainly for safe custody of prisoners and maintenance of correctional institutions.® We must retain custody of prisoners if we are to treat them. We must manage correctional institutions if they are to keep the prisoners we mean to treat. But a logical question is whether the 20-80 ratio of treatment to custodial-maintenance personnel is sound, whether by such a ratio we serve the best interests of society. Another question is whether, if we had more, and more effective, treatment personnel outside institutions, we would need to spend so many millions of dollars on institutional plant and equipment to house so many inmates. Might a sizable proportion of inmates now incarcerated have been at least as effectively treated in the free community, on probation? Whatever we conclude on this score, the fact remains that we have traveled a long way in our treatment of offenders over past centuries. Today we have far from a fully effective correctional program, but in the main we have committed ourselves to achieving one. Were that not so, probation and parole would not be in existence today. They are relatively new programs, historically speaking. The so-called civilized world has been interested in punishment of offenders for a much longer period of time than it has been concerned with correcting them. How did the correctional orientation enter our culture? To understand this, we must review the evolution of peno-correctional philosophy and practice in the Western world. 3

President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, The Challenge of Crime in a Free Society, p. v. * Ibid., p. 12. » Ibid., p. 162. « ¡bid., p. 162.

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RETRIBUTION, NOT CORRECTION In the beginning there was no correction, no attempt to bring about change in criminal offenders so that they would no longer offend. The concept of correction did not evolve until comparatively modern times. In the Western World, attitudes toward crime and criminals were founded largely on ancient Christian doctrine, particularly its conception of sin. A sinful person was supposed to be "possessed" by an evil spirit, which must be exorcised by the incantations of holy men, by castigation of the "possessed" person or even his execution, if the evil spirit stubbornly refused to be exorcised. When this thinking was applied to crime, a criminal was often considered to be "possessed" by an evil spirit, which must be forced to leave his body. The Christian doctrine of sin also included the concept of punishment for such transgression as a means of expiation. Through suffering, the sinner atoned for his transgression. Through expiation he was purified, and purification was the first step toward moral regeneration. As criminal law was created it reflected this religious conception at least in part. The transgressor against the law was to be punished as retribution and a means of expiating his deeds. However, purification of the offender was not an objective, nor were those administering the law concerned with the criminal's ultimate regeneration. Little or no thought was given to regeneration of offenders, which may be thought of as roughly equivalent to correction as we use the term today. For several centuries after the creation of law there was small concern for what brought an individual to commit crime. There was equal indifference to discovering what caused crime in general. The idea that some offenders might yet be salvaged, helped to become useful members of society, was not yet extant. A man violated the law and he must suffer for it. And suffer he did. Offenders were treated with what must today be regarded as barbarity. They were tortured, stoned, drowned, drawn and quartered, branded, whipped, many of them for petty offenses. They were eviscerated, emasculated, decapitated, enslaved. Their ears were cut off, their eyes gouged out, their tongues pierced with hot irons. That was justice. FREE WILL AND CRIMINAL RESPONSIBILITY In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries the Western World was influenced by the Enlightenment, a philosophical movement which

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argued that human reason could order man's life and society's condition. The Enlightenment brought innovations in religious as well as educational and political doctrine. Criminals were no longer considered possessed by evil spirits. The rationalists of the Enlightenment viewed offenders as individuals who, like all others, were possessed of free will. An offender could have exercised reason and will power, behaved lawfully. When he violated the law he did so deliberately, for pleasure or profit, when he could have remained law-abiding. Therefore, being fully responsible for his acts, he should be held accountable for them. The rationalists would invoke a pleasure-pain principle in dealing with lawbreakers: set a penalty for each crime, severe enough to offset the pleasure or illicit gain the potential lawbreaker would receive from a criminal act. If the punishment would exceed the satisfaction to be derived from a contemplated crime, the tempted person would desist. Or if he committed the offense nevertheless, and were punished, he would not be as likely to violate the law a second time, having learned that commission of crime would bring him more pain than pleasure or gain. Thus, the criminal law was conceived of as an individual and general deterrent. The punished person would not offend again. Others in the society, seeing what happened to criminals, would not commit crime. Rationalism, in a sense, did advocate retribution for crime, but the purpose of it was no longer atonement for sin, or expiation for the sake of expiation. Punishment for crime became a matter of social policy, in the interest of safeguarding the public weal and maintaining public order. But correction of the offender, in the modern sense of rehabilitation, was not an objective. BECCARIA AND THE CLASSICAL SCHOOL OF CRIMINOLOGY If the rationalists' views on freedom of will, criminal responsibility, and the pleasure-pain principle were to prevail, certain encrusted legal tradition in the administration of justice would have to be wiped out. Crimes would have to be punished according to a precise formula, with equal penalty for all who committed a given offense. But judges on the Continent were virtual potentates of the bench, handing down "justice" that was uneven, capricious, and arbitrary. Defendants with powerful friends were treated leniently; others received stringent penalties. Personal bias

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and prejudice operated with impunity. If the jurist had contempt for the lower classes—as he generally did—he might penalize defendants from those strata with undue severity. If he considered picking pockets as heinous an offense as murder, he had the power to treat the pickpocket as he would a murderer. It was Cesare Beccaria who took the first big step toward eliminating such abuses of judicial authority and ameliorating the lot of the prisoner at the bar. Beccaria's work ultimately resulted in the elimination of cmel and inequitable penalties for crime. It reduced the judge's right to exercise his personal whim in disposing of cases. Beccaria's was not a correctional program; its direct objective was not bringing about change in offenders in the sense of rehabilitating them; but it did manifest a humane consideration for persons charged with crime. The Classical School of criminology, which formed around Beccaria, is outmoded today in certain respects, but it did produce improvements in the administration of justice that carried forward into modern times. Cesare Bonesana, Marquis of Beccaria (1738-1794), was born in Milan, Italy, the son of aristocrats. A law graduate, he was not interested in practicing in that profession, devoting himself instead to philosophical studies. He was particularly drawn to the French Encyclopedists, and it was the theories of Montesquieu, Voltaire, and Rousseau that he later applied to the problems of crime and criminal justice. An indolent person, Beccaria might have died unknown had he not become intellectually excited by two brothers, Pietro and Alessandro Verri, the former an Italian economist, the latter a well-known writer. A little group developed around the Verri brothers, meeting more or less regularly to discuss philosophical questions. Beccaria became a member of this coterie. When Pietro Verri asked him to prepare an essay on crime, and offered to help him at it, Beccaria found his greatest life interest. He delved into the subject painstakingly, completing the essay when he was 26 years of age. Published anonymously in 1764, it was later republished under the author's name, with the title of Essay on Crimes and Punishments. By that time it was already recognized as of such worth that Voltaire himself added a Commentary when the work was translated from Italian into French. The slender volume created a sensation from its first appearance. The Italian judiciary bitterly attacked it. Jurists in other countries did likewise, for Beccaria was considered an enemy of judicial authority. At this

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time, public officials still had power to deprive persons of freedom, property, and even their lives without regard to principles now embodied in the legal concept of "due process of law." Secret accusations were brought against individuals, who might thereupon be imprisoned on the flimsiest evidence. Torture was employed to gain confessions. Sentences were arbitrary and inconsistent. Equality before the law was not yet an accepted principle. Beccaria championed that principle, hence he was attacked from the bench. Would you prevent crime, asked Beccaria? Then: Let the laws be clear and simple; let the entire force of the nation be united in their defence; let them be intended to favour every individual, than any particular classes of men; let the laws be feared, and the laws only. The fear of the law is salutary. 7

Borrowing Rousseau's social contract theory of the state, Beccaria asserted that laws are the conditions by which free and independent men unite to form society. In order that all in the society might enjoy peace and freedom, men agree to a social contract under which they willingly sacrifice part of their individual freedom in order to enjoy that which is left in security and tranquility. All of the freedoms surrendered by each individual constitute the sovereignty of a nation. These freedoms are deposited in trust, so to speak, to be administered by a legitimate sovereign, in the interest of all of the people. But the creation of this depository of freedom is not in itself sufficient to guarantee it against attack. In order to defend the sovereignty, and through it the people, against usurpation of rights by private parties, laws are enacted, and punishments are established, to deal with those who transgress against the statutes. Thus, the justification for punishment lies in the necessity to restrain man from encroaching upon the freedom of other men, a freedom defined and established by the terms (laws) of the social contract. But the intent of punishment, Beccaria wrote, ". . . is not to torment a sensible being, not to undo a crime already committed." The end of punishment " . . . is no other than to prevent the criminal from doing further injury to society, and to prevent others from committing the like offence." The punishment, and the mode of inflicting it, should therefore be such . . as will make the strongest and most lasting impressions 7 Cesare Β. Beccaria, An Essay on Crimes and Punishments (London: printed for J. Alman, 1767), p. 165.

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on the minds of others, with the least torment to the body of the criminal." 8 Deterrence, then, is the aim of punishment. And how shall punishment serve that aim? The object of law must be the greatest happiness of the greatest number. One man, or a few men, shall not be permitted to interfere with the happiness of the greater number. Each individual is morally bound by the social contract. If he offends against it, he violates it, commits crime. The right to punish is derived from the necessity to suppress crime in order to preserve the social contract. Let the pain of prospective punishment so exceed the pleasure of committing crime that the individual will weigh the two in balance and choose to remain law-abiding. In consonance with this line of thought, the judge has but one duty— to determine, by a fair trial, whether a law has been breached. If so, he is not to proceed according to his private ideas of justice. He must apply existing law on the subject, precisely and exactly. The criminal code needs to stipulate a given penalty for a particular crime, and judges should mete out an identical sentence for each occurrence of the same offense. There must be no preferential treatment in court. Punishment should be swift and certain. "That a punishment may not be an act of violence, of one, or of many, against a private member of society, it should be public, immediate, and necessary, the least possible in the case given, proportioned to the crime, and determined by the laws." 9 We know today that there is no such thing as "the same" crime, hence the theory of equal penalties is not entirely acceptable to us. Two men may commit what the code defines as burglary, but each will in some way be different from the other. When Beccaria wrote his Essay, however, his intention was to correct injustice in the judicial process, and what he suggested was in the interest of humaneness. He would inflict only that amount of punishment that would serve the end of deterrence. He would treat all defendants equally under the law. He would accord each a fair trial and just punishment. Beccaria believed that the intent of an offender when he committed his crime should not concern the courts. It was, he held, fallacious to reason that a crime is greater or less according to the intention of the 8 Cesare Bonesana, Marquis Beccaria, An Essay on Crimes and (Philadelphia: Philip H. Nicklin, 1819), p. 47. » Ibid., p. 160.

Punishments

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perpetrator. This, again, runs contrary to contemporary thought, as we shall learn farther along in this book. Under Beccaria's leadership and stimulation, there emerged what is today called the Classical School of criminology. It has had considerable influence on criminal law and judicial practice. On the positive side, it would appear to have these advantages: 1. The Classical School encouraged fair and orderly court procedure, with attention to what we now speak of as due process of law. 2. It furthered rational rules of evidence. 3. It mitigated the severity of punishment. 4. It placed curbs on the arbitrary and capricious use of judicial authority. On the negative side: 1. The Classical School overemphasized the role of free will in ordering the behavior of men. It exaggerated the function of reason in human affairs. Men do not make all of their decisions to behave on the basis of reason alone. 2. It failed to explain with any precision just how a man, considering committing a crime, would balance pleasure (derived from the crime or its proceeds) and pain (derived from the punishment set for the crime). 3. It focused on the crime rather than the criminal, thus retarding interest in studying crime causation. 4. It devalued the part that habit, the emotions, and environment play in the production of criminal behavior.

LOMBROSO AND THE POSITIVE SCHOOL OF CRIMINOLOGY Another step toward a correctional orientation in criminology and penology was the emergence of the Positive School, fathered by another Italian, the medical doctor, surgeon, and anthropologist Cesare Lombroso (1835-1909). He is one of the least understood and most unjustly maligned men in the history of criminology. To most of those who know his name at all, Lombroso was the fellow who said criminals had vestigial atavistic traits, like monkeys; that crime is inherited; that some people are "born criminals," destined to achieve that status no matter how favorable their environment. Lombroso's very substantial contribution and

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many-faceted approach to criminology have been obscured by what we believe he said about atavisms and "born criminals." Cesare Lombroso was a native of Verona. He received one degree in medicine, another in surgery. He became interested in comparative anatomy and also in psychiatry, which was just barely getting under way as a scientific pursuit. At one time or another this remarkable man taught medicine, legal medicine (today's forensic medicine), public hygiene (public health), criminal psychiatry, and criminal anthropology. His interest in anthropology derived from his noting that there were physical differences among inhabitants of respective regions of Italy. Could these differences, he wondered, be analyzed and measured, expressed in metric terms? Seeking answers, he made systematic measurements and observations of three-thousand soldiers from different parts of Italy. These investigations were in the field of physical anthropology, or anthropometry, as it is also designated. Anthropometry is a part of the study of biometrics, the data of which are expressed in statistical terms. The contemporary criminologist, Marvin E. Wolfgang, has this to say about Lombroso's work: Together with Mantegazza, his colleague and experimental pathologist, Lombroso was instrumental in establishing in Italy the meaning of anthropology in the modem sense. That is, as opposed to the Kantian emphasis on descriptive psychology, Lombroso insisted on the use of the experimental method in legal medicine.10 Lombroso's studies led him to the anthropometric measurement of the skulls and other physical characteristics of the criminal and the insane. It is true, as most believe, that in his earliest formulations he held that there were definite, measurable, physical characteristics distinguishing criminals from noncriminals. He did assert that individuals who became criminals were a distinct physical type from birth. Contrary to common belief, however, he did not hold, at any time, that the physical characteristics of these individuals, in themselves, caused them to commit crime. Nor did he claim that a person with those characteristics must commit crime. What he said was that some individuals are born with given "stigmata," such as asymetrical cranium, long lower jaw, flattened nose, scanty beard, low sensitivity to pain, and characteristic hair growth on the body. The 10 Marvin E. Wolfgang, "Cesare Lombroso," in Hermann Mannheim (ed.), Pioneers in Criminology (London: Stevens & Sons, 1960), pp. 168-225.

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"criminal type" he held to be best represented by a person with more than five such stigmata. But these anomalies—which he believed were not found to the same extent in noncriminals—did not inevitably lead to criminal behavior. Rather, they identified a personality type which was only predisposed to criminal behavior. This type either represented a reversion to the savage (hence atavistic), or was the result of a degeneration akin to epilepsy. In other words, Lombroso was already postulating stigmata that were not inherited and present at birth. Furthermore, he made clear, these atavistic types, because of their nature, could not refrain from crime unless the circumstances of life were exceptionally favorable. So, from the beginning, he accepted that even individuals with more than five stigmata could refrain from crime, given favorable environmental circumstances. Moreover, Lombroso quickly modified his earliest conclusions regarding the "born criminal," that is, the highly atavistic personality. Where he formerly asserted that 100 percent of those who became criminals were born to be such, so to speak, he later estimated that only about 40 percent were in that category. It is easy for us today to put the finger on Lombroso's fatal methodological flaw in researching this subject. He made measurements of only criminals and the insane. He did not compare them with a control group of noncriminals and noninsane. Had he done so, he would have discovered that the seeming anthropometric differences between the criminal and the law-abiding disappeared because they never existed to begin with. When Charles Goring did use a control group in his study, The English Convict,11 he found Lombroso's stigmata in criminal and noncriminal groups alike, in about equal proportions. Indeed, university students in his control group had somewhat more of the stigmata, on the average, than the criminal group! So much for Lombroso's anthropological-biological postulates regarding a criminal type. Few scientists hold with them today. Lombroso's position as a giant in criminology cannot rest on his "atavisms." He stands as an innovator as the father of the Positive School of criminology, founded by him and elucidated by such followers as Enrico Ferri and Raffaele Garofalo. Positivism gave birth to scientific criminology, even though the scientific method was not as refined or sophisticated in Lom11 Charles Goring, The English Convict Office, 1919).

(London: His Majesty's Stationery

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broso's time as it is today. The foundation stone of Positivism is its conception of multiple-factor causation. Positivists regarded crime as a consequence, not of a single, but of many, factors. The biological was only one of these. Lombroso himself credited numerous environmental factors with determining in part whether an individual would resort to crime. Between the first (1876) and later editions of his chief work, L'uomo delinquente, he more and more enlarged on the social factors. In his Crime: Its Causes and Remedies,12 published posthumously in the United States in 1912, he finds: Every crime has its origins in a multiplicity of causes, often intertwined and confused, each of which we must, in obedience to the necessities of thought and speech, investigate singly. This multiplicity is generally the rule with human phenomena, to which one can never assign a single cause unrelated to others. 13

Note the flat statement. One can never assign a single cause unrelated to others. Where is the single-causation (biological) theorist in this Lombroso? Among the multiple factors in the environment contributing to criminality, Lombroso listed: Meteorological and climatic influences. "Physiology and statistics show that most human functions are subject to the influence of heat." Density of population. " . . . crime appears only when a certain density of population has been reached." Subsistence. " . . . with cheap food crimes against property (except arson) decrease, while those against persons, especially rape, increase." Legal definitions of "the criminal." (Lombroso did not put it in those terms. ) "Occasional criminals, or better, pseudo-criminals, are those who do not seek the occasion for the crime but are almost drawn into it, or fall into the meshes of the code for very insignificant reasons. These . . . ought not, properly speaking, to be called criminals." 14 Lombroso and the Positive School introduced scientific method into criminology. In our frame of reference, a search for origins of modern correctional thought, we can sum up Positivism as follows, beginning with negative aspects: 12

Cesare Lombroso, Crime: Its Causes and Remedies (Boston: Little, Brown, 1912). 13 Ibid., p. 1. "Ibid., pp. 1-5, 8-10, 21-23, 59, 76, 365-66, 368-77.

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1. The Positiviste overstated the case for the biological factor in criminal etiology. 2. Their experimental methodology was faulty. They failed to compare criminals with noncriminals. On the positive side: 1. They introduced the scientific method into criminology. 2. They somewhat denigrated the role of free will, emphasizing instead biological and environmental factors that often drive an individual to crime. 3. They developed the experimental method of research in criminology to a high level for the period, and pointed to its importance as a tool in further research. 4. They posited a multiple-factor theory of crime causation, to which we currently subscribe. 5. They pointed to social origins of crime. 6. Where the Classical School focused its attention on the crime, the Positivists focused on the criminal, opening up vast areas for investigation of such questions as: Why do people resort to crime? What does this tell us about necessary crime prevention methods? What does it suggest regarding treatment of the offender? These questions are central to modern correctional investigations and programs. T H E HUMANITARIAN MOVEMENT Lombroso's work extended well into the period during which humanistic correctional thought germinated. It was no accident that our thinking had gone in new directions by the mid-nineteenth century. This was an era of intellectual adventure, of tremendous social change. It saw the growth and extension of humanitarian ideology in many aspects of life. In England and the United States this spirit manifested itself in the anti-slavery crusade. Cries arose for a more humane treatment of the insane. Societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals and, later ( ! ), to children, were founded. Darwin had stunned the world with Origin of Species. Huxley and Spencer adapted his theories to social phenomena which, they suggested, were an outgrowth of forces that could be discovered, studied, and understood. In the 1850-1860 decade, thinkers applied scientific method to the investigation of culture and society. They wanted to know why human beings behave as they do, what produces

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social problems, and how they might be alleviated. Everywhere, man wanted to know why and how. Darwinism was itself an outgrowth of social ferment, while at the same time contributing to it. This was the era of agitation for women's suffrage, temperance reform, labor organization, a time when ". . . restless sap flowed in the veins of . . . people and they took up their beds and walked." 15 Gold was discovered in California. The westward march was on. Alaska was purchased. Technological changes occurred almost daily. The first underwater cable, between Governor's Island and Castle Garden, off New York City, was laid in 1842. The first message over the first telegraph line was transmitted in 1844. A railroad train crossed the Mississippi River in 1856. Governmental systems were reappraised in different parts of the world. The doctrine of the divine right of kings to rule was challenged. Louis Philippe was dethroned. Ferdinand I of Austria abdicated the same year, and there were revolts in Ireland, Lombardy, Venice, Denmark, and Schleswig-Holstein. Garibaldi unified Italy by revolt in 1860. Emperor Maximilian of Mexico was executed in 1867. The Orient, too, felt the impact of the times. Feudalism was abrogated in Japan and a constitution promulgated in 1899. The abolitionist tracts and Uncle Tom's Cabin inflamed the minds of men in the United States against the institution of slavery. Walt Whitman created a new poetic form in volumes such as Leaves of Grass, first published in 1855. And—wonder of wonders—in 1869 the territory of Wyoming granted the franchise to that frail vessel, woman. While heavily tinctured with older, more traditional ideas and attitudes, this was above all a cycle in world history in which humanitarianism forged to the front. Belief in the dignity of man, respect for his personality, were borrowed from the Bible and translated into a Social Gospel, a code of behavior for man. The more brutal and degrading sections of the English Poor Law were in process of amendment. There was still a highly moralistic cast to the giving of charity, but change was in the making and Lady Bountiful was being replaced by the career social worker. Humanitarianism made itself felt in our country when, in 1857, the first municipal pension fund was established, providing disability and is Meade Minnegerode, The Fabulous Sons, 1924), pp. v-vi.

Forties

(New York: G. P. Putnam's

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death benefits for New York City policemen. Six years later, the first state board of charities was founded in Massachusetts. In 1869, in the same state, this country saw its first state board of health. In this yeasty atmosphere, criminology and penology rose to new levels. The influence of the Classical School declined. Where it emphasized law, humanitarians were primarily interested in man. The offender rather than the offense became the center of interest, and here, knowingly or otherwise, the humanitarians were guided by the Positiviste. The latter-day criminologists deplored institutions that did no more than incarcerate and punish. They saw no social utility in retribution for retribution's sake. They did not believe that severe sentences, of themselves, were deterrents to crime. They believed the greatest deterrent lay in helping offenders find their way back to self-respect and acceptance in the community. They demanded more humane treatment of prisoners, advocated programs that would help them change. Some of their ideas, viewed today, appear naive and weighted with unjustified faith in the moral lecture, but for their time they were advanced, even revolutionary. And a good many of the principles enunciated in the latter part of the nineteenth century are as fresh and sound today as they were then. An example is the Declaration of Principles of the American Prison Association, written in 1870. It includes the statement: The prisoner's self respect should be cultivated to the utmost, and every effort should be made to give back to him his manhood. There is no greater mistake in the whole compass of penal discipline, than its studied imposition of degradation as a part of punishment.16 Considering that this was written almost a hundred years ago, it is indeed a revolutionary doctrine. But it was within the temper of the times. A humanitarian surge was in process. Prisons, condemned as cesspools of degradation and breeding places of crime, gave way to reformatories. The theory was that they would reeducate minds and redirect emotions, turning prisoners out reformed. Thus, we had reached that stage in correctional history when we incorporated the approximate equivalent of the Christian doctrine of regeneration after sinning. The penal reformers were to use the term "rehabilitation," but they meant that peno-correctional programs were of little use in society unless they 18 As printed, in slightly revised form f r o m the original, in American Correctional Association, A Manual of Correctional Standards (New York: American Correctional Association, 1954), p. 410.

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corrected, helped offenders rehabilitate themselves, so they might return to free society without jeopardizing those about them. The reformatory movement resulted in the establishment of the New York State Reformatory at Elmira, an institution with a special orientation, for adults. Other states erected similar institutions. We have not yet fully realized the objectives set by those early reformers, and perhaps we never shall. Change has not been consistent, nor always in one direction. We have some outmoded and some modern notions about crime and its treatment. We have a few "good" correctional institutions, and many that destroy the spirit. But the best of what we have in the way of institutions is an outgrowth of the concept of correcting rather than merely punishing, a concept born of the humanitarian movement. And that same humanitarian spirit discovered for us alternatives to incarceration. Thus, while this great social ferment was in progress on all fronts, a bootmaker in Boston and a British naval officer in Australia, one probably never having heard of the other, respectively fathered probation and parole, the concern of this book.

2 Origins of Probation Probation is a treatment program in which final action in an adjudicated offender's case is suspended, so that he remains at liberty, subject to conditions imposed by or for a court, under the supervision and guidance of a probation worker. The word "probation" derives from the Latin, its root meaning being "a period of proving or trial." The Catholic Church has used the term to connote a test period undergone by candidates seeking membership in religious orders. In Protestant denominations ministerial candidates may be "on probation" pending ordination. In the correctional field, probation is a treatment program designed to facilitate the social readjustment of offenders. The program rests upon the court's power to suspend sentence. The probation period is served in the community rather than in a correctional institution. Suspension of final action is conditional, contingent upon the probationer's adherence to regulations set by the court or at the judge's behest. A probationer is supervised and counseled by an agent of the court. Should he seriously breach the conditions imposed, probation may be revoked, in which case the court will invoke the appropriate penalty. The theory of probation evolved from antecedent practices, all intended to lessen or otherwise mitigate the severities of the penal code. In English common law the courts were presumed to have power to suspend sentence for specified purposes and periods. On this basic authority rest the devices which preceded probation. BENEFIT OF CLERGY Benefit of clergy (Privilegium clericale) is usually cited as a forerunner of probation, although this seems a bit far-fetched. It dates back to the thirteenth century, when many felonies were punishable by death under

ORIGINS O F PROBATION

17

English statutory law. T h e church insisted that only ecclesiastical tribunals had jurisdiction over members of the clergy. Therefore, benefit of clergy was initiated as a device by which ordained clerks, monks, and nuns, accused of crime, could maintain that they were outside the criminal jurisdiction of the secular courts. They claimed benefit of clergy. Their cases were thereupon transferred to church courts. As the power of the Crown increased, Henry II insisted that an ordained person who ran afoul of secular law should be tried in a secular court. As a compromise, such individuals were permitted to claim benefit of clergy in the Crown's court, and a real benefit it was. When a member of the cloth, suspected of crime, was brought into the King's Court, his bishop could claim the dispensation for him. Thereupon the charge was read to the cleric, but no evidence was presented against him. Instead, he gave his own version of the alleged offense and brought in witnesses to corroborate his testimony. With all the evidence against the accused withheld, and only favorable witnesses testifying, it is hardly astounding that most cases ended in acquittal. When a defendant was occasionally found guilty, he was "degraded" and "put to penance," but rarely was that penance a rope around the neck, as was often the case with defendants not entitled to benefit of clergy. By the middle of the fourteenth century the benefit was extended to certain other categories of defendants, provided they could read, this being taken as evidence that the individual concerned held membership in holy orders. To prove their reading ability, persons claiming the benefit had to read a passage from the Psalms, usually : "Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving kindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions." Because thereafter these transgressions were frequently adjudicated leniently, the selection came to be known as "neck verse," since so often it was used to escape the death penalty. Later, the literacy test became a fiction. With the knowledge and approval of the judge, a clerk would report that a defendant could read even when he could not, and the jurist allowed the benefit if he saw fit. After 1487 benefit of clergy could not be claimed a second time except by persons who actually were clerics and could establish the fact. In order to identify individuals who had once claimed the benefit successfully, they were branded on the thumb, according to the crime alleged, as for instance with a Τ for theft or an M for murder.

18

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As benefit of clergy, in time, was offered to more and more classes of the accused, it lost its special, clerical meaning entirely and became "a clumsy set of rules which operated in favour of all criminals to mitigate in certain cases the severity of the criminal law."1 But as the State gained ascendency over the Church, benefit of clergy fell into disuse. It was abolished for commoners in 1827, and for peers in 1841. The American colonies entertained the plea until shortly after the Revolution. While benefit of clergy provided alleviation of sentence, it offered none of the features pointed up in our definition of probation. JUDICIAL REPRIEVE More directly related was judicial reprieve, a temporary suspension of the imposition or execution of sentence. Its purpose was to allow a stay so the defendant might apply to the Crown for an absolute or conditional pardon. The defendant usually remained at liberty pending final disposition of his case. We have here, then, suspension of sentence, but no conditions regarding behavior during such suspension. And there was no supervision by an agent of the court. RECOGNIZANCE Much closer to probation was recognizance, which comes from the Latin recognoscere, meaning to "recall to mind." It was, and is, a bond or obligation entered into by a defendant, who thus binds himself to refrain from doing, or to do, something for a stipulated period, and to appear in court on a specified date for trial or for final disposition of the case. Entering into a recognizance, also called "binding over," might or might not require that the person post monetary bond as surety. Should he fail to abide by the terms of the agreement, the debt he owed the State would become enforceable, whether that meant forfeiture of bond or incarceration or both. By the nineteenth century, recognizance was utilized in dealing with young and petty offenders particularly, both in England and New Eng1 W. S. Holdsworth, A History of English Law, III, 294, quoted in Probation and Related Matters (New York: United Nations, Department of Social Affairs, 1951), footnote, p. 17.

19

ORIGINS OF PROBATION

land. It was employed before trial and as a conditional disposition upon conviction. In this legal procedure we find some features common to modern probation: suspension of sentence; freedom in lieu of incarceration; conditions set upon such freedom; and the possibility of revocation of liberty upon violation of the conditions. But recognizance provided no official supervision or guidance by an officer of the court. The earliest recorded use of recognizance in our country was in the case of Commonwealth v. Chase, heard before Judge Oxenbridge Thacher, of the Municipal Court of Boston, in 1830. He set forth the nature of the practice in his statement: The indictment against Jerusha Chase was found at the January term of this court. . . . She pleaded guilty to the same, and sentence would have been pronounced at that time, but upon the application of her friends, and with the consent of the attorney of the commonwealth, she was permitted, upon her recognizance for her appearance in this court whenever she should be called for, to go at large. It has sometimes been practiced in this court, in cases of peculiar interest, and in the hope that the party would avoid the commission of any offense afterwards, to discharge him on a recognizance of this description. The effect is that no sentence will ever be pronounced against him, if he shall behave himself well afterwards, and avoid any further violation of the law. 2

BAIL A judge may direct release on recognizance with or without bail or sureties. And bail is used with or without recognizance. Originally, it was a method of assuring a defendant's appearance for trial, and also of effecting provisional suspension of final action in a case. Today it is used exclusively for the first purpose. Earlier, the defendant was placed in the custody of those who became bail for his appearance in court. The sureties who "went bail" therefore had a financial interest in seeing to it he abided by the court's instructions. This necessarily entailed some supervision, to make sure the accused did not decamp. Thus, in bail as a form of deferral of final action we had suspension of sentence, freedom instead of incarceration, conditions set 2 Frank W. Grinnell, "Probation as an Orthodox Common Law Practice in Massachusetts Prior to the Statutory System," Massachusetts Law Quarterly, II (1916-1917), 591-639.

ORIGINS OF PROBATION

20

upon that freedom, the possibility of its revocation, and some kind of supervision, although not by an official agent of the court. The United Nations report, Probation and Related Matters, calls recognizance and provisional release on bail "in a very real sense the first, rudimentary stage in the development of probation."*

FILING OF CASES In the nineteenth century filing of cases was a practice apparently peculiar to Massachusetts. The imposition of sentence was suspended when, upon a verdict of guilty in a criminal proceeding, the court recognized extenuating circumstances justifying mitigation of penalty. The case was "filed." It might also be filed when a legal question in a similar case was awaiting action on appeal, and the higher court's decision would possibly establish a new interpretation binding upon like situations. When the judge, with consent of the defendant and prosecutor, filed the case, he made the defendant subject to conditions he set forth. The filing of cases did not constitute final judgment. It left it within the province of the court to take further action at any time, upon motion of either defense or prosecution. Such action might be an order of imprisonment but, upon proof that the defendant had been comporting himself properly, the judge could continue the case on file indefinitely, the net result being that the individual was in effect a free man.

PROBATION We come now to probation as we define it today. Historians usually call it an origination of the United States, and it is, despite the fact that some of its antecedents may be traced back to British common law. These antecedents include the English common law assumption, mentioned earlier, that courts have authority to suspend sentence under given conditions. But, as will be indicated below, this assumption ran into difficulties in the United States, and it was not until statutes were enacted, spelling out the court's power to suspend sentence, that probation was for the first time anywhere legally established as an administrative device available to the judiciary. 3 Probation and Related Matters, p. 22.

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21

John Augustus, a Bostonian, is called the "father" of probation, but it was an informal type that he practiced, unsupported by statute. He deserves the title of "father" of probation, however, for he did pioneer in it, and he was certainly its local father, the first (informally appointed) probation officer in the world, and the first person to apply the term "probation" to this correctional practice. But something very like his work was born practically simultaneously in Great Britain. The coincidence need not surprise us. An innovation occurs when the time is right. Then it sometimes springs to life in different places simultaneously, because the requisite groundwork has been done. As Darwin was crystallizing his theories, scientists on the Continent were arriving at similar insights on the origin of species. The juvenile court became a reality in two states at almost the same time. Medical social work came into use in two hospitals, both in Boston, in the same year, the innovator in one institution being unaware of the development in the other. The social climate was right for the birth of probation in the nineteenth century. Thoughtful observers had become convinced that prisons were not "teaching a lesson," penitentiaries not making inmates penitent. It was also coming clear that suspension of sentence without provision for supervision and guidance of the released person served little purpose. So it was that Matthew Davenport Hill, of Birmingham, England, pioneered in his country in 1841, the very year John Augustus performed a like service in Boston for the United States. Matthew Davenport Hill4 was born in 1792, making him almost eight years younger than John Augustus. A radical, he espoused many causes, including the improvement of teaching, reform of the law, and a reorganization and reorientation of the penal system. Called to the Bar in 1819, he enjoyed a successful career as a barrister, engaging in numerous legal battles in the cause of political freedom. He was counsel for some of the sufferers in the Manchester Massacre, in which the military broke up a political protest meeting. Hill also defended Richard Carlile, who was charged with seditious libel. Other clients were the Nottingham rioters (1831) and the "Rebecca" rioters (1843)* Hill served as one * Most of what follows concerning Hill is based on an excellent volume by John Vincent Barry, Alexander Maconochie of Norfolk Island (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1958), pp. 187-89. •So called because they dressed in female clothing and called themselves "Rebecca and her daughters," protesting what they considered excessive road tolls in South Wales.

22

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of Daniel O'Connell's counsel in the Irish "Liberator's" successful appeal to the House of Lords against his conviction for seditious conspiracy (1844). Despite his busy court schedule, Hill found time to pursue his enthusiasm for reform of the criminal law and bringing about a penal system that would turn inmates out of prisons more fit for society than they were when they went in. He was elected to Parliament, was later appointed Queen's Counsel, and in 1839 became Recorder of Birmingham, a post he held for twenty-six years. It was in this capacity that he recalled having observed an experiment with youthful offenders, years earlier, in Warwickshire Quarter Sessions. It was in the 1820's, when he was still a young barrister. In selected cases, the magistrates of Warwickshire Quarter Sessions imposed token sentences of one day, on condition the defendant remain under the care of an approved parent or master thereafter. This was no suspension of sentence, but it did represent mitigation of punishment and supervision of the offender in the community. However, no conditions were laid down, nor was there provision for revocation of freedom in the event the offender misbehaved. Early in 1841, Recorder Hill decided to institute a modified version of this system in his court. Instead of requiring the day in jail, he suspended sentence and placed the defendant under the supervision of a guardian. He saw his program as being rehabilitative, not punitive, justifying it on the ground "there would be better hope of amendment under such guardians than in the gaol of the county." 8 Thus, England had a demonstration of a correctional program which, although not called probation, had some of its elements as practiced by Augustus in Boston. Hill selected appropriate cases, suspended sentence, and provided for supervision. Unlike the Boston court, Hill's retained no legal control over the released offender once he was turned over to his guardian. If the defendant misconducted himself, no sanctions were imposed. However, wrote Hill, should that individual commit another offense and come before him, he would take into consideration that he was dealing with a repeater. Hill dealt severely with such a defendant, "that the punishment should be such as to show that it was from no weakness, from no mistaken indul6 Matthew Davenport Hill, Suggestions for the Repression of Crime, in Charges Delivered to Grand Juries of Birmingham; Supported by Facts and Arguments (London: Publisher not stated, 1857), p. 117.

Contained Additional

ORIGINS OF PROBATION

23

gence, from no want of resolution on the part of the court to perform its duty" that leniency had been extended before.® Other jurists, impressed with Hill's experiment, began using recognizances, mainly with young offenders. And Hill, seeking more certain protection for the community, asked the chief superintendent of police to make periodic inquiries into the conduct of persons released to guardians. These checks were conducted by confidential officers who visited homes without prior notice. In the United States, judges were also wrestling with the problem of humanizing justice. They were not wholly unprepared for a John Augustus, as we have already seen in the instance of Judge Thacher. Augustus was a man of strong convictions, burning zeal, and limitless compassion. Born at Woburn, Massachusetts, in 1784, he was a cordwainer (bootmaker) at twenty-one, living in Lexington and carrying on his flourishing business from his home. In 1827 he moved to Boston, where he continued his occupation. In 1841, at the age of fifty-seven, he became interested in court work. He describes the eventful day in a little volume published some years later: In the month of August, 1841, I was in court one morning, when the door communicating with the lock-room was opened and an officer entered, followed by a ragged and wretched looking man, who took his seat upon the bench allotted to prisoners. I imagined from the man's appearance, that his offence was that of yielding to his appetite for intoxicating drinks, and in a few moments I found that my suspicions were correct, for the clerk read the complaint, in which the man was charged with being a common drunkard. The case was clearly made out, but before sentence had been passed, I conversed with him for a few moments, and found that he was not yet past all hope of reformation. . . . He told me that if he could be saved from the House of Correction, he never again would taste intoxicating liquors; there was such an earnestness in that tone, and a look of firm resolve, that I determined to aid him; I bailed him, by permission of the Court. He was ordered to appear for sentence in three weeks from that time. He signed the pledge and became a sober man; at the expiration of this period of probation, I accompanied him into the court room. . . . The Judge expressed himself much pleased with the account we gave of the man, and instead of the usual penalty—imprisonment in the House of Correction—he fined him one cent and costs, amounting in all to $3.76, which was immediately paid. The man continued industrious i ¡bid., p. 118.

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and sober, and without doubt has been by this treatment, saved from a drunkard's grave.7 Note that the word "probation" is used in this passage. John Augustus was the first to employ it in the correctional sense. In this selection from his writings we also find most of the features listed in our definition of probation. Augustus looked upon his work with offenders as treatment. In the light of modern knowledge we might smile at his belief that he could discern from a man's demeanor and speech that he had a "firm resolve" to quit liquor and that he was "not yet past all hope of reformation." But Augustus must be judged in the context of the times. Psychology, psychiatry, social work, were in their infancy, although the great Dr. Benjamin Rush, "father of American psychiatry," had done his work, and Octavia Hill in England, and others in this country, were soon to fashion social work closer to a profession. Augustus was at once a product of his era and ahead of it. In the disposition of the case of the "common drunkard," who was probably unawed by the fact he was making history, we have the suspended sentence, accompanied by freedom in the community rather than incarceration, and conditions placed upon that freedom. We have supervision and counseling, but not by an official agent of the court. Had the probationer not behaved satisfactorily, his freedom would have been revoked and he would have begun to serve his sentence in the House of Correction. To be sure, we would not today believe that a three-week period of probation and sobriety proved much, but this, again, needs to be seen against the historical background. Beginning with that one intemperate defendant, John Augustus devoted himself to probation work. He was convinced that many offenders required no more than the sincere interest of another human being to be able to straighten out their lives. Augustus housed some of his charges in the large house he occupied with his family; other probationers had homes to which they could return. John fed and clothed the needy, required those who should work to seek and keep at it. Eventually he went bail for women, too, and then youths. He interested himself in alcoholics, petty thieves, felons, prostitutes, but always with discrimination: T J o h n Augustus, A Report of the Labors of John Augustus, for the Last Ten Years, in Aid of the Unfortunate (Boston: Wright & Hasty, 1852); reprinted as John Augustus, First Probation Officer (New York: National Probation Association, 1939), pp. 4-5.

ORIGINS OF PROBATION

25

Great care was observed of course, to ascertain whether the prisoners were promising subjects for probation, and to this end it was necessary to take into consideration the previous character of the person, his age and the influences by which he would in future be likely to be surrounded.8 Time proved the Boston shoemaker a shrewd judge of character, for, according to his records, most of his probationers seem to have changed for the better. So dedicated was Augustus to his probation work that his private business suffered. Hours he might have been working he spent in prowling the courts. The Rambler, a local journal, reported: In the Police Court, Mr. Augustus seems the most at home. As he enters the room, he casts his eye towards the prisoners' bench, where are seated perhaps, half a dozen miserable beings, bruised and ragged, and trembling from the effects of a recent debauch. It is probable that some of them know him, for as he walks to the box two or three turn their blood-shot eyes toward him with eager glances. . . . In a moment he is with them, gently reproving the hardened ones, and cheering . . . those in whom are visible signs of penitence.8 He was walking about in Leveret Street Jail one day, when he saw a small boy, crying bitterly: I asked him why he was there, and he said he did not know. I inquired of the officers and they informed me that he was there on a charge of committing rape. . . . I afterwards learned, that such was the fact. He was but seven years old. I proceeded directly to court and informed his Honor . . . of the fact. The judge immediately issued a capias and the child was brought into court. . . . A jury was impaneled. . . . I told the judge that I thought it a shame and a disgrace to all present to proceed with the case; his Honor asked what could be done; I replied, "let him be sent to his mother and placed in her lap"; I stated that I would bail him, and to this the court readily assented.10 In another case, two boys playing together got into an imbroglio. As boys will, one grabbed the other's cap and ran off. The aggrieved youngster pursued, seized the fleeing felon, and forcibly extracted from his pocket the sum of six cents. The two then separated, each no doubt running home to tell his mother. Then, as happens, one boy repented of his sin and visited the other, returning the purloined cap. That lad graciously accepted it, but when asked, as quid pro quo, to give back the six pennies, saw no logic in this. One thing led to another; the parents got into it, as » Ibid., p. 34.

» Ibid., p. 75.

10

Ibid., p. 95.

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26

parents will; and the penny-snatcher wound up in police court and then in jail, charged with highway robbery. If ever a case warranted probation, this was it. The lad's father begged Augustus to bail his son, which he did. The parents settled their differences and, Mr. Augustus dryly remarks, "here ended the great highway robbery case." One of the boys was nine, the other ten. 1 1 " T h e object of the law," John declared, "is to reform criminals, and to prevent crime and not to punish maliciously, or from a spirit of revenge."

12

He made that clear to judges, police, and the world at large, so

much so, and so vehemently, that a writer once remarked Augustus had a tongue "which appears to be hung in the middle and oiled at each end."

1S

Such a tongue was bound to make him enemies, and with right good humor Augustus published some of the things they said about him. Mike Walsh made this newspaper comment in 1 8 4 8 : There are a number of lazy hypocritical knaves . . . who, by dint of unblushing impudence and affected kind-heartedness not only make a fat living by mouthing professions; but actually pass with the credulous . . . for real disinterested philanthropists. . . . . . . . We have been partly led into these remarks by the conduct of a fellow who is called John Augustus. . . . Mr. Augustus seems to have a great itching for notoriety, and dollars, . . . he hangs and loafs about the Police and Municipal Courts, almost every day, and takes more airs upon himself than all the judges and officers. . . . . . . . We know something about this Peter Funk philanthropist, and peanut reformer, and unless he conducts himself henceforth with a great deal more propriety, we shall take it upon ourself to teach him decency. 14 Significantly, much of the criticism directed at probation in Augustus' lifetime is still heard in our time. Summing up his work, Augustus wrote: Those who are opposed to this method, tell us that it is rather an incentive to crime, and therefore, instead of proving salutary, it is detrimental to the interest of society, and so far from having a tendency to reform the persons bailed, it rather presents inducements for them to continue a career of crime; the law is robbed of its terrors, and its punishments, and there is nothing therefore, to deter them from repeating the offence with which they were previously charged . . . . . . if a person who has been bailed, or received the leniency of the court, proves false to his promises of amendment, people are ever ready to predict that all others will conduct in a similar matter; and this they persist in Ii Ibid., p. 96.

12 Ibid., p. 23.

™ Ibid., p. xiv.

" Ibid., pp. 78-79.

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PROBATION

27

believing, although instances are very frequent, even three to one, where such persons have become good citizens, and regain their former station and relation in society.18 Augustus worked eighteen years, aided financially and otherwise after a time by civic-minded citizens whom he interested in probation. In all, he bailed almost two-thousand individuals. Out of the first 1,100 on whom he kept records only one forfeited bond. If, he reflected, "only one-half of this number have become reformed, I have ample cause to be satisfied."

18

When John Augustus died, in 1859, his work was carried on by others. It still lacked one feature which we consider essential today. Neither Augustus nor those who immediately followed were officials of the court. Consequently, they lacked the authority and support which official probation officers now have. In 1689 Massachusetts passed a law authorizing an agent of the state board of charities to investigate cases of children tried before the criminal courts. T h e agent was to attend trials, receive children for placement when the court so directed, and visit them periodically after placement was effected. Within a few years, about one-third of all young boys and girls appearing in court were being accorded probation in Massachusetts. In 1878 probation was regulated by statute for the first time when Massachusetts enacted a law authorizing the mayor of Boston to appoint a paid probation officer as a member of the police force, with jurisdiction in Boston's criminal courts. Thus, the officer became an official agent of the court. T h e drafters of the statute clearly viewed probation as treatment when they inserted the provision that "such persons as may reasonably be expected to be reformed without punishment" be selected for probation. It is interesting, too, that no restrictions on eligibility for probation, other than the above, were laid down. Probation was available to juvenile and adult, male and female, felon and misdemeanant, regardless of the particulars of the offense. Under this enactment, the probation officer was to be under the "general control" of the police chief. His duties included attending court, investigating prisoners charged with, or convicted of, crime, and making recommendations to judges on the advisability of placing defendants on probation. H e was to visit probationers, help and encourage them, check on their activities, and make reports to the chief of police. H e had the «

[bid., pp. 99-100.

ι » Ibid., p. 96.

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power to rearrest a probationer, with the approval of the police chief, after which the court would proceed to make such disposition as was within the judge's discretion. Lieutenant Henry C. Hemmenway was the first statutory probation officer in the United States under the Massachusetts statute. However, Captain Ε. H. Savage is more commonly accorded that position in history, probably because Hemmenway served but four months. Savage, a former chief of police, succeeded him, remaining in his post fourteen years, at a salary of $1,500 annually. In 1880 authority to appoint probation officers was extended to all cities and towns in Massachusetts. This was permissive only, and few jurisdictions took advantage of the bill. In 1890 Massachusetts provided for statewide probation. The courts, rather than municipal authorities, were to appoint probation officers. It was stipulated that "they shall not be active members of the regular police force," this apparently having appeared a hazard. An officer was to be appointed in each police district and municipal court. In 1898 the probation system was extended to superior courts. This earlier legislation dealt only with the appointment of probation officers. Indirectly, it recognized the existence of probation, but such service continued to be offered without benefit of a law specifically authorizing it. Missouri led the way, in 1897, passing a law that authorized courts to grant probation. Vermont followed a year later. (Incidentally, in Vermont the bill was titled "An Act relating to the parole of prisoners," indicating that the terms "probation" and "parole" were used interchangeably, and improperly so. This created a confusion not yet dissipated.) Illinois, Minnesota, and Rhode Island entered the ranks in 1899, New Jersey in 1900. There were intriguing variations in these early statutes. Illinois and Minnesota provided for juvenile probation only. Rhode Island, the first to place restrictions on eligibility, excluded from probation those convicted of certain offenses. Vermont initiated the county plan of organization, each such unit appointing its officers and administrators, and operating autonomously, within the framework of the state's enab'ing act. In contradistinction, Rhode Island pioneered a statewide, state-controlled administration. Probation developed slowly at first. It was the juvenile court movement that accelerated its development, for probation was an integral part of

ORIGINS OF PROBATION

29

the program of these special courts. In 1899 Illinois established a juvenile court in Chicago. Probation officers were appointed by, and responsible to, the judge. They were not paid out of public funds, partly because of the dubious assumption that to offer salaries would attract individuals interested only in the compensation. Volunteers, it was felt, would be men and women of great heart, working for the sheer joy of serving mankind. As the juvenile court movement progressed, legislation authorizing probation for juveniles was enacted, state by state. By 1925 probation was authorized by statute in all forty-eight states. It is currently authorized in the fifty states of the Union, as well as for cases under federal jurisdiction. However, an enactment authorizing probation service in a given jurisdiction does not necessarily signify that the service is actually available. A survey conducted by the National Council on Crime and Delinquency, published in 1967, reveals that in many states probation service for juveniles was not uniformly available in all counties and localities. In thirty-one states, all counties had probation staff service. A total of 2,306 counties, 74 percent of all counties in the United States, theoretically had such service, but in some it was quite minimal. In sixteen states that did not have probation staff coverage in every county, at least some services were available to courts in some counties from persons other than paid, fulltime probation officers. These services were rendered by volunteers in six states, by child welfare departments in five, and by a combination of child welfare, sheriffs, and other departments in five states. In 165 counties in four states, no juvenile probation services at all were available.17 The inadequacy of services offered in some jurisdictions is illustrated by the situation in one state, which had an enabling statute authorizing placement of juveniles on probation. Only two counties furnished staff to work with the youngsters. In the others, probationers received no supervision or treatment whatever by any official agent of the court. The juveniles were presumed to be adjusting satisfactorily unless and until they showed up in court again on a new charge.18 Adult probation grew more slowly than juvenile. By 1910 only twenty-one states and the District of Columbia had enabling statutes. By 17 "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 13, No. 1, January 1967, pp. 49-50. 18 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 27.

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1950 legislation permitting adult probation existed in forty-four states, the District of Columbia, and the federal criminal courts system. By 1967, all fifty states and Puerto Rico authorized probation by statute. All counties in forty-eight of the fifty-one jurisdictions furnished probation service. Of the 3,082 counties and districts in the fifty-one jurisdictions, 91 percent had some probation service. (Four states have districts instead of counties.) The federal courts and the District of Columbia also furnished probation service. The fact that probation services are furnished may or may not mean they are reasonably adequate. In Ohio, for example, twenty-five counties had full-time probation officers assigned to supervise adult probationers in 1965; 34 counties had part-time officers; and eleven counties had no probation service whatever. Including the eleven with no service, a total of seventeen counties spent no county funds whatever in 1963 to provide probation service.19 There are, then, laws in every state authorizing both juvenile and adult probation in at least certain courts, although services available to probationers are spotty or nonexistent in some subsections of these jurisdictions. Most states make their probation acts applicable to all benches, but some except those handling misdemeanants, creating problems discussed in the next chapter. One issue remained to be settled. It will be recalled that probation and its forerunners were based on the common-law conception that judges had authority to suspend sentences. The common law is "found," not written. It is custom as defined in judicial opinions on specific cases. Common law gave England and the United States power to suspend either the imposition or execution of sentence on a temporary basis and for a specified purpose, as in recognizance. The question remained whether a court was empowered to suspend a sentence for an indefinite period, meaning that the suspension was the disposition and not merely a stay for a specified period and purpose. English jurists assumed they lacked the inherent power to do this, but legal opinion in the United States was divided on the subject. 1« California Public Survey, Vol. 18, No. 1, January-February, 1966, p. 17; based on Ohio Committee on Crime and Delinquency, Adult Probation in Ohio (Columbus: Ohio Committee on Crime and Delinquency, 1965), 43 pp., mimeograph.

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31

The United States case most often cited as authority for indefinite suspension was People ex rei. Forsyth v. Court of Sessions.20 The court had before it a young man known to be of good character and reputation prior to the offense. There were extenuating circumstances surrounding the commission of the crime, in the judge's opinion. He suspended imposition of sentence during good behavior. The district attorney contended that the right to suspend sentences indefinitely did not exist in common law and that the court must impose sentence, since no procedural stay was intended, to allow appeal or other action. The New York statute authorizing suspension of sentence was invalid, he declared, and an infringement on the executive power of pardon. This was an important legal contention, for probation, which rests upon the power to suspend sentence, was now in use in various sections of the country and a decision striking down suspension would cripple the service. The New York Court of Appeals considered the case and upheld the trial court and the constitutionality of the statute involved. But the issue would not die. Courts in other states were using indefinite suspension of sentence, some without even benefit of statute, instead of depending upon their interpretation of common law. Finally, in 1916, a challenge to the practice reached the United States Supreme Court. The case involved originated in the federal court system. In 1915 United States Attorney General T. W. Gregory had been agitating against indefinite suspension. His views were expressed by Assistant Attorney General William Wallace, Jr.: Let the judges confine themselves to rather than thwarting the law; . . . if impose the punishment decreed by law may be enforcing the law and not flying

their true function of administering the guilt is established, let the judge . . . so that the court when so acting into the very teeth of it. 21

Gregory found the test case he wanted in the Northern District of Ohio. Judge John M. Killits had suspended the execution of a five-year sentence of a young man who pleaded guilty to making false entries and embezzling money from the national bank where he was employed. He had no prior record, made full restitution, and the bank's officers did not wish to prosecute. 20 141 N. Y. 288,36 N. E. 386 (1894). 2! Charles Lionel Chute and Marjorie Bell, Crime, Courts, and Probation (New York: Macmillan, 1956), p. 94.

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32

Gregory came into Killits's court and moved the jurist's order be vacated, arguing that the court had exceeded its authority. Killits overruled the motion, and the issue was joined. The United States Supreme Court hand:d down a unanimous decision on December 4, 1916, delivered by Chief Justice Edward D. White.22 It held that federal courts (and, inferentially, state benches as well) lacked inherent power to suspend sentences permanently or indefinitely. There was, the court averred, no right "to continue a practice which is inconsistent with the Constitution." The decision did not invalidate recognizance, but held only that while "common law courts possessed the power by recognizances to secure good behavior, that is to enforce the law," this did not support "the proposition that those courts possessed the arbitrary discretion to permanently decline to enforce the law." The Court was saying, in other words, that indefinite suspensions were without legal sanction. Instead of crippling probation, the decision in the Killits case actually helped it. The explosion of the doctrine of inherent power, under common law, to suspend indefinitely meant, to many judges and others interested in the subject, that laws must now be written, specifically conferring upon courts by statute what the common law did not confer. The Forsyth case upheld statutory suspensions, hence that seemed the legal route to take. It was taken, and there is now no question that, where a statute to that effect exists, courts do have power to suspend sentences for indefinite periods when placing defendants on probation. However, the individual statutes do place limits on the interpretation of the term "indefinite" by setting maximum limits of such suspension, as we shall see in Chapter 3. 22

Ex parte United States, 242 U. S. 27-53 (1916).

3 Probation Today At 3 A.M. Hillsville police answered a call reporting that two men were prowling about in a building. Converging on the scene, officers spied two dark shapes on the street, a few feet from the particular premises. As they approached, the shapes fled. The pursuing police were able to capture only one, a man named John Jones. He was dressed in black trousers, black sweater, and black shoes, a garb often worn by burglars, rendering them relatively invisible in the dark. Jones had burglar's tools in his possession, but none of the articles later discovered to have been stolen from the building were found on him. He was arrested nevertheless, because of the suspicious circumstances, including his dark costume and possession of burglar's tools. The policemen believed he was the professional thief they had been attempting to apprehend for some time, there having been a series of unsolved burglaries in the community. Like Jones, the thief in the other burglaries worked at predawn, used professional burglar's tools, and wore black clothing on the several occasions when he was briefly spotted. Like Jones, he breached buildings in a particular, characteristic manner. Jones refused to give police any information. At trial, he demanded a jury. He took the stand in his own behalf, although he could legally have elected to remain silent, and by taking the stand opened himself to crossexamination by the prosecution. He testified that he had been unable to sleep on the night in question and had gotten up to take a walk, hoping to overcome his insomnia. As he was walking, he came upon the burglar's tools, lying in the street. The jury found him guilty of burglary. It was now the judge's task to decide whether to sentence Jones to prison, place him on probation, or

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make one of several alternative decisions available to him under the law. As an aid in reaching a just decision in the interest of community protection and the possible rehabilitation of the defendant, he instructed his probation department to make a presentence investigation. When the report was submitted, it gave the following information and comment: John Jones, 36, was bora in Idaho and raised in Oregon, the youngest of eight children. His father had served a prison term for raping his own daughter. Five of John's brothers had been involved in delinquent activities, two having served lengthy prison terms for kidnap and robbery. Despite this unsettling family environment, John had no police record for juvenile misconduct. He was said to have been a devoted son, and very helpful to his mother. He completed high school, went to work, and married. The couple broke up, however, and sometime later John married again. This union seemed successful, neighbors informing the court investigator that the Joneses had been happy and compatible. Mrs. Jones was studying to become a dental assistant. John supported her and also faithfully provided support for the four children of his first marriage. The report continued: "He has had continuous employment as a truck lift operator, and supervisors evaluated work performance exceedingly favorably. Defendant was given a bonus for a work suggestion. He is also an inventor, with several patents." He had "laudatory person (sic) references from his employers, attorneys, neighbors and landlord." One negative factor in his background was his conviction for petty theft seven years prior to the instant arrest, when he was 29. According to the presentence report, the police still believed Jones not only was guilty of burglary in the case before the bar, but also that he was the professional thief who committed the string of earlier burglaries. In maintaining his innocence, police said, Jones perjured himself at the trial. This was the sum total of information available to the judge. Suppose you were that jurist. What disposition would you make of the case? Would you send John Jones to prison? Place him on probation? Remember, as a hypothetical judge you must protect society against further depredations by a convicted burglar. You must also do what can be done to bring about the social readjustment of that burglar, so that he might become law abiding. It is an awesome responsibility, is it not? You, and you alone, must decide.

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The case is presented to you so that you may realize how great is a judge's responsibility and how uncertain he must remain, no matter what his disposition of a case, as to whether his action was sound. At best, no matter how much of a defendant's background he knows, he must attempt to predict the future behavior of a human being, and there is no infallible way of doing this. That is the dilemma of every jurist weighing the question of incarceration or probation. As the hypothetical trial judge in the case of defendant John Jones, how did you decide? What was your disposition? Whatever it may have been, John Jones will care not one whit, for just as you are an imaginary jurist, so John is an imaginary, not a real person, whose case was discussed at an Annual Sentencing Institute for Superior Court Judges of California. All of the judge-participants were given the information presented above. They were asked to record how they would dispose of the case. After the "vote" was in, each of the 70-odd judges told the group why he voted as he did. The object was to explore factors in a defendant's background that lead to given court dispositions. A further objective was to determine what could or should be done to promote more uniform dispositions. Each judge had presided over innumerable trials. Each had long experience in assessing defendants' character and personality. Each had precisely the same information about Jones. Yet they disagreed as to the appropriate disposition. Forty percent said they would place Jones on probation. Fifty-five percent would send him to a local jail or road camp, then place him on probation. Five percent voted to send Jones to prison. Not only did dispositions vary by type of penalty meted out, but also as to the penalty time involved. One judge would give the defendant sixty days in county jail. Another would send him to prison for many years. A third would have him serve a short local jail sentence, a weekend at a time. A fourth would eschew any period of incarceration, allowing the defendant to go free at once, under probation supervision.1 As this illustration should make clear, contemporary probation operation is far from an exact science. Many errors of judgment are ultimately 1 The foregoing is based on the proceedings of the Annual Sentencing Institute for Superior Court Judges, held in Santa Barbara, California, April, 1967, sponsored by the State Judicial Council, as reported to the writer by a participating judge. A colorful and accurate newspaper account of the proceedings will be found in a dispatch by Eric Malnic, "Institute for Judges. Sentencing in 'Case' Has 70 Jurists Disagreeing," Los Angeles Times, April 14, 1967, Part II, p. 6.

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discovered. Slightly more than half of all offenders sentenced to any kind of correctional treatment in 1965 were placed on probation.2 If for this reason alone, probation practice in the United States deserves study. In point of fact, there is not one probation practice; there are various practices. Each state has its basic probation law, the Federal Government its own. Very little can be said that will apply to every jurisdiction. But some patterns do exist, some generalizations are valid, provided the reader constantly bears in mind that for every statement there probably is at least one exception. UNIT OF ORGANIZATION Probation services are organized according to several basic patterns. There is the county plan, in which the state writes basic probation law, each county, within that framework, appointing staff and administering its own department. There are centralized state probation systems, where one agency administers probation for the entire state, furnishing counties with requisite services. There are combined, state-administered, probation and parole agencies, one organization furnishing both probation and parole services to the entire state. There are city and town probation units, independent of the counties in which they are located, serving municipal and other courts below the county level. The Federal Government conducts its own probation program for persons coming under the purview of courts at that level. Adult probation services are mainly state functions while juvenile services are for the most part organized at the local level. Table 3.1 shows the level of administration and type of agencies administering juvenile and adult probation in 1965 in the fifty states and Puerto Rico. Juvenile courts administered probation services in thirty-two local jurisdictions, largely at the county level. In five states these services were operated by state correctional agencies, and in seven by state welfare departments. In the remaining jurisdictions, probation service was available through other state or local agencies.3 2 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 27. * Ibid., p. 35.

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In 196S adult probation was county-operated in fourteen states. A centralized, statewide probation system existed in thirty-seven jurisdictions. Of the fourteen following the county plan, nine were among those states that are most densely populated. In thirty of the thirty-seven states in which a state agency administered adult probation, that agency also provided the jurisdiction's parole services.4 TABLE 3.1. Administration of Juvenile and Adult Probation, By Type of Agency, 50 States and Puerto Rico, 1965 Type of Agency

State: Corrections Other Agencies Local: Courts Other Agencies

Number of Jurisdictions Juvenile Adult

11

12 25

32 3

13 1

5

Source: National Survey of Corrections, reported in The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 35, Table 4.

What explains the variability in unit of organization? Historical chance, in part. Juvenile probation services were first developed in juvenile courts, which were operated by cities or counties. Probation in those courts was consequently administered locally. Probation service for adults ran a different course. Originally, it was also available at city and county levels, but when parole was introduced in the United States, largely as a state function, a trend toward centralization set in, and a number of adult probation systems were gradually grafted onto existing statewide supervision services. But there are additional reasons, residing in cultural conservatism, a process that operates at the same time as cultural change. With altering conditions in a society, there is a strain toward cultural change to meet the needs of the altered situation. And change does take place, in every society, continuously. At the same time, there is a greater or less resistance to change, to giving up the known for the unknown, the certain for the uncertain. Many years ago there were fewer cases in court, by far, * "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 13, No. 1, January 1967, p. 165.

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than there are today. Each court could maintain close control of probation at the local level. Often, a judge personally acted as counselor to probationers. Local autonomy was possible and reasonably effective under these conditions. But as population burgeoned, as our nation became more urbanized and our industrial and economic systems created more and different social problems, crime rates rose. Court calendars became clogged. In order to administer justice effectively in the altered circumstances, the judicial structure underwent reorganization. Court systems became more complex in the cities. Courts took on new functions in addition to the old—the arbitration of family disputes, special treatment of adolescents, prostitutes, alcoholics, and narcotics violators. It became increasingly difficult for a judge to maintain close personal contact with all of the persons coming before him. And since probation caseloads had risen by leaps and bounds in the early decades of the twentieth century, not only was the jurist forced to relinquish his former close relationships with probationers, but county authorities themselves wanted to be relieved of the financial and administrative burdens of probation service. Moreover, it was apparent that considerable inconsistency existed among the local units in the way in which the services were rendered. A drive for standardization was initiated in many jurisdictions. Gradually, all of these considerations brought about the transfer of adult probation operations from strictly local to state administration in a number of jurisdictions. Elsewhere, habituation to the local pattern resulted in a cultural inertia, a resistance to change. Juvenile probation continued to operate locally for the greater part, perhaps because, somehow, we want to be close to children, to individualize them, to care for them. Adult probation administrators, on the other hand, more and more look to centralized authority at the state level. Those who continue to favor local control through municipal and county administration argue that a centralized state system impairs local autonomy and therefore efficiency of operation. It does, to an extent. However, a state unit has much to recommend it. Many counties cannot afford adequate probation service. Under a state administration they would receive what they need, on a par with the rest of the state. Moreover, centralization yields uniform standards of recruitment of staff, and of operation of the system. It conserves time and money. It produces a

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minimum of duplicate services, and it fosters the elimination of outmoded, and in some instances no longer needed, services. The advantages of state centralization of probation may be illustrated by the hypothetical Smith family. Prior to a recent reorganization of the court and probation systems of New York City, Jack Smith lived in Manhattan. Manhattan is New York County. Jack was on probation for burglary in New York County. His brother Harry crossed the bridge into Brooklyn, which is Kings County, but also part of New York City. He stole a car, was on probation to Kings County, although residing in Manhattan. Sister Mary did some shoplifting in the Bronx, another county within New York City. She was placed on probation to Bronx County authorities. Brother Ralph, joy riding in Queens County, still another section of New York City, got into a gang fight resulting in his placement on probation in Queens. Finally, this being one of "those" families, Zelpha, who was married and living on Staten Island, sliced her husband up a bit and was placed on probation to the Richmond County Court. She returned to the parental home pending a divorce.

The Smith family, then, resided in New York County. But four of its five members on probation were under the jurisdiction of other counties, with varying standards and quality of work. Five different officers crisscrossed each other's trails, visiting the Smith home. They submitted five separate expense accounts, kept five sets of records in five office buildings. And five Smiths lived in one domicile but traveled to five different reporting stations. The President's Commission seems to favor state-level administration, while acknowledging some advantages in local control. In a statecentralized probation system, the Commission points out, "there is a greater probability that the same level of services will be extended to all areas and all clients. Uniform and equitable policies will be applied in recommendations for institutional and out-of-home placement." Under local administration, wide variations in policy are found. There is, the Commission holds, a tendency for a local agency to "solve" a problem case, or one requiring substantial investments of services or money, by commitment to a state institution. "This would be minimized if a single agency operated both programs." A final argument for state administration, in the Commission's opinion, "is the historical fact that State

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agencies have generally been in the forefront of developing innovative programs, demonstration projects, and correctional r e s e a r c h . . . . Extensive research and demonstration are almost nonexistent at the local level." ·

APPLICABILITY Probation is available to juveniles and adults, males and females, felons and misdemeanants. Least developed are facilities for misdemeanants. This should concern us, for these offenders as a group require as much attention as do felons. True, some are accidental law violators who need little, if any, help from probation, and represent practically no risk in the community. But among misdemeanants are also the alcoholics, the drug addicts, the petty thieves, vagrants, and certain types of sex offenders. All of these tend to be more disorganized personally, less capable of solving their problems, than are felons. And in individual instances they may be more dangerous than the latter. Yet the public considers misdemeanants lesser offenders. "After all," we say, "they're not serious criminals, like armed robbers." The result is that government does not spend much on probation service for these "lesser offenders." Case loads go fantastically high. Presentence investigations, if made at all, are necessarily superficial. Consider the case of Albert Howard Fish.® In 1929 Fish was in court on a relatively minor offense—passing a worthless check. He received a misdemeanor sentence, suspended, and was on probation for 90 days. N o presentence investigation report had been prepared, for the heavily loaded court could not afford one. Had there been such investigation, the judge would have been put on notice that the mild-looking defendant was fantastically dangerous. Here is what an investigation could have disclosed: In two generations, seven members of the Fish family had mental breakdowns or exhibited very eccentric behavior. Albert finished elementary school at fifteen and worked regularly thereafter. On the surface he seemed a normal, healthy individual, although even then inchoately drawn to fantasying curious sexual behavior. But such imaginings had little effect upon his outward behavior, and at twenty-eight he married and sired six children, of whom he was exceedingly fond. β The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections, p. 36. 6 For this case history I have consulted Frederic Wertham, The Show of Violence (New York: Doubleday & Co., 1949). I also use personal recollections of my contact with Fish in my then official capacity.

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He had been wed twenty years when his wife eloped with another man. Fish continued to care for his offspring, but his behavior gradually became eccentric. There were increasing periods of unemployment. He contracted three "marriages," all illegal, since he never divorced his vanished wife. He began to neglect his children. And somewhere along the line he took to enacting those scenes he had only imagined in childhood. He embraced practically every form of extreme sexual perversion known to the medical profession. Had there been an investigation in that court, in 1929, the probation officer almost certainly would have learned, from Fish himself, some of the macabre, horrible details, for the voluble defendant loved to talk about them. Over the years he had indulged in no fewer than eighteen kinds of sexual deviation, particularly of the sado-masochistic variety. He enjoyed torturing himself, and on a number of occasions stuck needles into his spine and under his toenails. He lured little boys and girls with candy, took them captive, tortured them for days. He wrote obscene letters to women who advertised in matrimonial journals. He was a fetichist, sodomist, necrophiliac, and withal, a religious hysteric. Sometimes he fancied himself God; at other times he punished himself for sinning against God. All these facts, remember, were in Fish's background when he appeared in court on the check charge. And some were on record, awaiting evaluation. But there was no time for evaluation. The defendant had a history of eight prior arrests. He had been on probation and parole. The colorless listing of his criminal record meant little, in the absence of fill-in. There had been some stealing, uttering of worthless checks—the work of a "lesser offender." One entry should have been a cue to something else: Fish served a misdemeanor term for sending obscene letters through the mails. The record also revealed two periods of observation in psychiatric hospitals, but since he was not found psychotic on either occasion, the court hearing Fish's case in 1929 could not afford the luxury of pursuing the matter. In short, because misdemeanants are the forgotten men and women of probation, the judge was not aware that Albert Fish had committed aberrent acts in twenty-three states over several decades. Most important, the court was unaware that Fish stood before the bench with his hands figuratively dripping blood. He was a killer at the time he answered the charge of writing a worthless check. He had kidnapped innumerable children, subjected them to unspeakable abuse, slaughtered somewhere between eight and fifteen of them. One victim was Grace, age ten. Fish choked her to death, hacked off her head with a cleaver, then sawed her body in two. He placed some of the flesh in a kettle, seasoned it with onion, carrots, and bacon. For nine days he ate the human stew, in a state of hysterical sexual excitement. The court, not being privy to these horrendous facts, treated Fish as a check passer. He finished probation "satisfactorily," since there was insuffi-

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cient field service to permit discovery of his aberrant acts, committed even then. This is indeed an indictment of society for its niggardly financing of probation in the misdemeanor court. Certainly it would not have taken much beyond a halfway workable caseload to permit revelation of what Fish was. But he finished the probation and continued his bloody career. Like some others of similar propensities, Fish had a compulsion to destroy himself by confession. In 1934 he wrote Grace's mother, practically tracing out a path to his door. Police followed his clues and walked in on him. H e greeted them amiably, and eagerly relived his experiences in a confession.

Given adequate probation service somewhere along the way, Albert Fish would have been recognized for the dangerous man he was. He might have been hospitalized before he killed. Men of his sort go in and out of misdemeanor courts. They will continue to do so unless we protect ourselves by more generous budgeting of probation departments of misdemeanor courts. Misdemeanants are a problem because they may be dangerous, they tend to be repeaters, and they are numerous. Over 2Vi million arrests in 1964 were for offenses which would be misdemeanors in most jurisdictions. 7 Yet, eleven states have no probation service whatever for adult misdemeanants, six practically none, and most states furnish service of some kind but only on a spotty basis, geographically. 8

COURT APPEARANCE The adult offender appears in a court of criminal jurisdiction. If guilt has been ascertained, a presentence investigation is initiated in courts providing such service. On the strength of this, the judge may order the defendant incarcerated or may place him on probation. The juvenile is petitioned into court. Proceedings are informal. In many jurisdictions the investigation is prepared prior to the hearing. In such instances it is not a presentence but a prehearing report. Children appearing in juvenile courts include not only those believed to be delinquent, but also those who are allegedly neglected by parents or guardians, or who are dependent and in need of help from the court in gaining eco7 Federal Bureau of Investigation, United States Department of Justice, Uniform Crime Reports for the United States—1964 (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1965), p. 41. 8 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, The Challenge of Crime in a Free Society (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. ix.

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nomic support. As in the case of persons adjudicated delinquent,, neglected and dependent children may be declared wards of the court and supervised by probation officers. Although we have defined probation in a manner indicating that the probationer has been convicted of crime or adjudicated into the status of a delinquent, dependent or neglected child, it is possible, in a limited number of jurisdictions, for an individual to be on probation without such conviction or adjudication. To cite one instance, Massachusetts sometimes places complaints "on file," thus eschewing trial and conviction where this seems in the public interest. In certain federal courts, youthful offenders (so defined in law and constituting individuals in the higher brackets of adolescence) are treated in similar fashion. In given cases, the alleged offender being willing, he waives trial and agrees to place himself under voluntary probation. In these cases the objective is to spare the offender the stigma and other consequences of conviction. But the practice involves some hazard. Suppose the offender violates probation. Trying him at that point may be difficult or impossible. Witnesses may be unavailable. If available, their recollections may no longer be accurate. However, so few cases are involved, in terms of the percentage of the total number appearing before these courts, that no serious problems seem to have developed through this informal use of probation.

INVESTIGATION Judges appear to have recognized that the probation investigation is an invaluable prognostic guide. However, some still insist: "I don't need a report to tell me whether a defendant belongs in prison or on probation. I look at him, the way he stands before me, and . . ." Laws intended to impress upon the judiciary the value of the reports have long been on the books. To be sure, a judge who is required to have a presentence or prehearing report before him may not read it, or if he does, may pay it scant respect, but the statutes obviously intend to have him expose himself to it. These laws fall into several categories: (1) the judge may decide whether and when he wants a report; (2) reports must be prepared prior to sentence if probation is being considered; (3) investigations are

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to be made and reports submitted whether or not probation is under consideration. There are variations on these patterns, as where reports are mandatory in felony but not in misdemeanor cases. By law or reasonable implication, every juvenile court is required to have some kind of investigation report before it at some point. Only a minority of states require a presentence investigation in all adult cases, whether or not probation is contemplated. ELIGIBILITY The court has ultimate authority to grant probation, although it may act on recommendation of the probation department. It has been well established, at least up to now, that no defendant in an adult court or child before a juvenile court has a right to probation. So long as it can be shown that the court exercised the discretion vested in it by law to deny probation, the individual concerned may not force the court to grant it. It is not so clear whether a defendant may refuse probation and demand that the court impose a sentence of incarceration. Some appellate jurisdictions have held that given individuals whose cases they were reviewing lacked legal authority to refuse probation. Others have found in favor of permitting the individual concerned to decline it. However, despite conflicting opinions rendered, Cooper v. United States9 is still regarded as a leading federal authority on the question. In that case the federal Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit held that the defendant could not refuse probation. Another legal, as well as social, question regarding eligibility for probation is how much discretion a jurist ought to be allowed in selecting defendants for probation. If we hold that, in the interest of individualization of offenders, he should have unrestricted authority, we will look with disfavor upon laws limiting him in this regard. And many jurisdictions do restrict his discretion to some degree. Although for the most part judges are permitted wide latitude, legislatures have been chary of allowing complete carte blanche. This is partly a result of our dread of the offender, partly an indication that we do not have complete confidence in our judiciary. We think Judge A. might be politically influenced » 91 F. 2d 195 (5th Cir. 1937).

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or Judge Z. lack discernment. In a majority of our courts we set up what we hope will be safeguards against unwise decisions. Juvenile benches are scarcely affected, but only fifteen states have no restrictions whatever on who may be granted probation in adult felony cases. The statutory exclusions fall into four broad categories, as reported in 1967: 10 1. In twenty-eight states persons convicted of certain types of offense are automatically excluded. 2. In nine states prior convictions are the determining factor. There are variations among these states according to the number of previous convictions that render a defendant ineligible. There are also variations according to prior conviction for specific offenses, such as sale or possession of narcotics. In some jurisdictions a prior narcotics conviction does disqualify, in others it does not. The same is true for certain other offenses. 3. In four states defendants who were armed when committing the instant offense are excluded from consideration for probation. 4. In eight states persons receiving certain maximum sentences are ineligible. In one of the eight this applies to anyone receiving a maximum term of five years or more; in three states to persons getting ten years or more; in four states to individuals receiving life maxima.* Among states disqualifying on the basis of offense, there is little uniformity. Theoretically, each law seeks to make ineligible those defendants guilty of the most serious crimes. But what is a serious crime? Rape and murder are most widely so classified, rendering the perpetrators ineligible for probation. But in many jurisdictions rape does not disqualify, nor does murder. Arson disqualifies in some states, not in others. It is possible to find a state in which both arson and rape disqualify, and another where neither offense does, although persons guilty of armed robbery or night burglary are ineligible for probation. And so on. Table 3.2 shows legal restrictions on the use of probation, by kind of offense, as reported in 1967. In the United Kingdom no restrictions whatever are placed on eligibility, so far as criminal record is concerned, yet to the best of our knowledge the recidivism rate is not higher among British probationers than among those of the United States. io "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, p. 162. *Some states restrict in two or more categories, hcnce the states involved above, added to the fifteen with no restrictions, total more than fifty.

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As it is the court which has the authority to select for probation, so it is also the bench which establishes the conditions. The judge has broad powers in this matter, with few restrictions, as will be discussed in another chapter. TABLE

3.2. Legal Restrictions on Use of Probation, By Kind of Offense

Offenses Excluded Murder Capital Offenses Rape Arson Robbery Burglary Kidnapping Treason Embezzlement

Number of States 19 9 12 7 6 5 4 3 2

Source: "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 13, No. 1, January 1967, p. 162, Table 2. THE PROBATION PERIOD By what laws and rules must a judge be guided in setting a probation term? Widest latitude exists in juvenile cases. Where a delinquent is involved, the court may generally impose whatever period it sees fit, provided it does not exceed a stipulated maximum, which is usually based not on the particulars of the misconduct but on when the juvenile will have attained his legal majority. Children adjudicated neglected or dependent may similarly be retained as wards of the court until they have reached their majority, as a rule. Laws vary widely where adults are concerned. The term must not exceed the maximum period of commitment which could have been meted out for the offense unless, as is rarely the case, the statute specifically so authorizes. Within this framework, the length of the probation period is discretionary with the judge in most jurisdictions. However, in some states it may not exceed a stipulated period of time. For

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example, in Mississippi first offenders may be placed on probation for a period not to exceed five years. In other states the stipulated maximum varies by offense, type of court, or other factor. A robbery conviction might carry a maximum probation term of five years, a burglary count three. A defendant in a court of felony jurisdiction might be subject to a five-year maximum, one in a lower court, two years. In a few states restrictions have to do with minima rather than maxima. A New Jersey probationer must remain under supervision at least a year. In Idaho, Montana, and Wisconsin, felony offenders on probation are required to remain in that status at least as long as the minimum term of imprisonment to which they were subject. Once more it must be remarked that if we are to individualize offenders, restrictions on probation term should be at the irreducible minimum and related to treatment needs and community protection rather than to preconceived legal formulae.

SUPERVISION The time a probationer spends under care is called the "supervision period," a somewhat unfortunate designation, since it places all the emphasis upon the directive and protection function while seemingly ignoring the equally crucial treatment role. Actually, the probationer is under supervision and treatment. Community protection and individual guidance go hand in hand in probation practice. Supervision, to use the conventional term, runs the gamut in quality from routine acceptance of mailed reports from probationers to the most advanced methods of social work.

VIOLATION OF PROBATION When may probation be revoked? Every probation statute, by express language or reasonable implication, provides that it may be revoked for any violation of conditions. Probation, like parole, is viewed as a privilege, not a right. The probationer has been permitted to remain at large by grace of the court. The judge sets conditions upon that freedom. He has the power to order revocation.

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In about half the states, and in the federal system, statutes stipulate that probationers being considered for revocation be afforded a hearing in court. In a few states the law explicitly allows revocation without advance notice or hearing, and in others the statute is silent on the matter. However, whether stipulated in law or not, most courts give probationers cited for violation an opportunity to be heard before action is taken. The judge hears the case and decides the issue. There is no right to a jury trial in revocation proceedings. Revocation may result from ( 1 ) general misconduct, that is, violation of rules and regulations imposed; (2) absconding; (3) commission of a new offense. General misconduct consists of violations of probation conditions short of the commission of a new offense or absconding. Absconding is failure on a probationer's part to keep his probation officer informed of his whereabouts. Commission of a new offense means, in context, a finding of guilt, at a trial, the offense being either a felony or misdemeanor. Revocations are not subject to judicial review if undertaken in accordance with authority vested in the court, and if not based upon mere whim or caprice. We discuss this in greater detail in Chapter 16.

DISCHARGE The court is the authority for discharging a probationer from supervision. Such termination occurs when the probation period has been satisfactorily completed. The effect of discharge is to relieve erstwhile probationers of responsibility to the court.

STANDARDS FOR PROBATION In 1967 the President's Commission recommended the following standards for probation, as proposed by its Special Committee on Correctional Standards: STATUTORY PROVISIONS

1. The statutes should require that a paid, full-time probation service be made uniformly available to all courts requiring the service. They should prescribe how the service is to be established, financed, and

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administered, and should state the qualifications of staff, methods of staffing, and the duties and functions to be performed. 2. The statutes should authorize the court to use probation at its discretion, following adjudication or conviction, for the best interests of the offender and society. 3. The statutes should require that a probation investigation be completed in all juvenile and adult cases as an aid to the court in making an appropriate disposition. They should further require the court to consider the investigation report and give due weight to the findings before making a decision. 4. The statutes should authorize the court to determine the conditions of probation, and should prohibit incarceration as one of the conditions. (The latter part of this statement is addressed to the fact that some courts make it a condition of probation that a defendant serve some time in a county jail or penitentiary prior to being under supervision in the free community. We discuss this at greater length in Chapter 13.) 5. The statutes should provide that, for juveniles, the period of probation supervision be indeterminate but to be terminated before the individual's twenty-first birthday. 6. The statutes should provide that, for adult felony offenders, the period of probation supervision be fixed by the sentencing judge at not less than one and not more than five years. (Here the inference is that very little can be accomplished in less than a year, and that after five years of supervision what has not been accomplished cannot be accomplished. ) 7. The statutes should authorize the court to discharge persons from probation at any time when supervision is no longer needed. They should also provide for revocation of probation, for sufficient cause, after a hearing. ORGANIZATION

While there is as yet no discernible authoritative consensus on the best organizational structure, it is clear that a sound probation system should conform to either of these two structures: 1. A centralized statewide system providing to all courts state-administered, state-controlled, and state-financed service through: (a) a board, commission, or department, (b) a department of which probation is a bureau or division, or (c) a department of probation and parole.

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2. A centralized county or city system locally administered by the court or a nonjudicial body, with state responsibility for supervision, consultation, standard setting, training, and research, with financing or subsidy through: (a) a board, commission, or department, or (b) a department of which probation is a bureau or division. CLIENTELE

1. For juveniles, a procedure should be established that provides for screening and possible adjustment of complaints before a petition is filed. 2. No juvenile or adult offender should be placed on probation until a probation investigation has been completed. 3. Where probation is used as a disposition, a probation agency should be available to provide service and exercise supervision. 4. A written copy of the conditions of probation should be given to each offender placed on probation (or the parents when the offender is a child). The offender (or in the case of a child, his parents) should acknowledge by signature that the conditions have been discussed, are understood, and are accepted. 5. Probation may be revoked only after the probationer has had an opportunity to be heard. 6. At a hearing held to consider revocation of probation, charges alleging violation of the conditions of probation and a summary statement of the probationer's adjustment should be prepared in writing and submitted to the court. 7. New infractions of the law by a probationer should be reported to the court. 8. Each probationer should be given a copy of his discharge when probation is terminated prior to or at the expiration of the maximum period of probation supervision.11 HOW PROBATION MIGHT WORK Let us follow a fictional Sam Smith through the probation process: Sam is an adult, convicted of robbery, which is a felony in his state. The judge defers sentence pending receipt of a probation report. 11 Adapted from The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections, pp. 206-207.

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The probation officer interviews Sam in jail, or at home in the event he is on bail. Other field visits are made in order to secure requisite social history. The officer then prepares his report. Sam appears for sentence. The judge gives him a five-to-ten-year term and suspends its execution, placing the defendant on probation for three years. (He could have made it two, or six; we are merely citing one possibility.) Sam has his initial interview with Mr. Barton, who will supervise him during his probation period. Barton explains what probation is, what it expects of Sam, and what help he can get from it in solving certain of his problems. The probation officer says he is here to help when he can, but it is also his duty to keep informed concerning the probationer's activities. Should there be serious violation of probation, Barton is obligated to report it to the judge. The rules and regulations of probation are discussed and explained. Sam is told he may expect supervisory visits to home and job. He must report to the officer every week. Eventually, if his behavior warrants, he will report less frequently. Supervision begins. The chances are, if he has had prior contact with courts and the law, that Sam is somewhat afraid of the officer, suspicious of him. Barton will have to establish rapport with the probationer before Sam quits being evasive on certain subjects. Sam may tell Barton the truth about his earnings, or even why he lost his job, but he will not be so ready to admit where he was last night, nor will he volunteer that he punched his wife in the jaw. Some of these facts Barton will dig out for himself. This is one reason why he goes into the field. But if he is successful in getting Sam to believe the officer wants to help, not harm, him, it will become less necessary to pick up such data by leg work. The probationer will talk more frankly, will want to discuss problems. Barton will become more the guidance worker than the law enforcement officer. He will help Sam find a new job and help him straighten out his marital affairs. Now Sam has been under supervision for two years and eleven months. He is one month short of finishing probation. Barton has not been entirely satisfied with Sam's conduct. He works regularly and his domestic life runs smoothly, but Sam drinks more than he should, and, more disturbing, he is evasive on this subject. Moreover, as Sam nears the end of

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his probation period, the officer become suspicious that he may have had something to do with a crime committed recently. The suspicion once aroused, Barton has no alternative. He must investigate and either clear the probationer or cite him as a violator. He will notify the police if he finds Sam involved in crime. Barton makes a thorough field check. He concludes that the probationer is innocent of crime. But he has been associating with one of the men who did commit the offense, and such association may in itself be considered a violation. Moreover, it could mean that while Sam is innocent of crime up to now, he is on the way to committing one. Barton prepares a report citing Sam for violation of probation. He brings the probationer before the judge, who decides he will not revoke probation, but, instead of allowing the probationer's supervision to terminate a month hence, he lengthens the term by an additional three years. Thus, Sam will have been on probation six years of his five-to-tenyear sentence if he finishes the period satisfactorily. This time he makes it. He comes before the court, is discharged from probation. He has no further obligation to the court. The suspended sentence cannot be invoked against Sam in the future, even if he commits another crime. But let us consider other alternatives. Assume the original circumstances. Sam has been on probation a year when the supervising officer develops suspicions. Investigation discloses that his drinking has become such a problem that his reversion to crime is likely. Sam is associating with a bad crowd, keeping late hours, frequenting questionable resorts, and failing to support his dependents. Barton submits a violation report charging misbehavior short of crime. The judge gives Sam an opportunity to hear the charges and answer to them. Sam's explanations do not satisfy His Honor. He orders probation revoked and the suspended sentence executed. Sam goes to prison. Sam has been on probation a year. How long will his prison sentence be? Five to ten years. That is what it was when it was suspended and that is what it is now. It was held in abeyance. Now it is invoked. The time Sam spent on probation is not credited against the sentence of incarceration. Suppose Sam is on probation for one year, then absconds. The officer submits a report so charging. A warrant for Sam's arrest is issued.

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He remains a fugitive for twelve years, then is apprehended. He had been under supervision for one year prior to absconding. Twelve more years have elapsed, a total of thirteen since his placement on probation. The suspended sentence was for five or ten years. Had Sam remained in good standing he would be through with probation by now. Had he served in prison his maximum sentence would have expired. Nevertheless, his probation time stopped running when he ceased reporting. Whenever apprehended, he would still "owe" the five to ten years, for he would not have finished probation. The judge can now order Sam to begin serving his sentence. However, suppose in the years Smith has been missing he was a devoted family man, working regularly, getting into no trouble. (These facts would have been ascertained by the probation officer, who submits a supplementary violation report covering the years between the original absconding and apprehension of the probation violator. ) The judge might feel that little good would result from imprisoning the probationer. In that case, he cancels the delinquency, and Sam is in good standing again. This might mean he is discharged from supervision. Or the judge might impose another period of supervision. Sam did not abscond; was not sent to prison for other misconduct; but two years after coming under supervision he is convicted of another felony. He is declared a violator; probation is revoked; the suspended sentence is ordered executed. This could mean that Sam Smith must serve five to ten years before beginning his new sentence which is, let us say, ten to twenty years. In that case, he will serve the minimum of the first sentence before becoming eligible to be paroled to start service of the second. But in many states the judge has discretionary power to permit such a prisoner to serve the two terms concurrently rather than consecutively. The first, and shorter, sentence thus fits into the longer one, so to speak. When Smith has served the minimum of the second he is eligible for parole, since the minimum of the first was completed before he became eligible on the longer sentence. In some states there is still another possibility. The judge can rule that the books are closed on the first offense. He will not penalize Smith for violating probation. Instead, he allows him to begin doing the second sentence, owing nothing further on the first.

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So much for Sam Smith. Now let us turn to the juvenile. Charles Dewer was adjudicated a dependent child. Dorothy Evers was adjudicated a neglected child. Both were made wards of the juvenile court. Dependent and neglected children are not delinquents, at least legally, although many, because of their environmental background, are emotionally unstable and can cause a probation officer a lot of worry and trouble. Some are even likely to commit illegal acts. However, this is not so with many others, and the officer will have no need to do much checking for unsatisfactory behavior. Suppose, for example, that Charles Dewer were four years old, deserted by his parents, and made a ward of the court in order that he might be placed in a foster home and otherwise receive care. The probation officer will not suspect that Charley may go on a burglary expedition or attend a marijuana party. The officer is more interested in knowing what the foster parents are doing, whether they are providing for Charley satisfactorily. But suppose Dorothy Evers, who is sixteen, and adjudicated a neglected child, is placed in a foster home, runs away, is found and placed in another foster home, from which she also runs away. Suppose, further, that she is sexually promiscuous, and also a chronic truant. Here, the probation officer will have to do a lot of checking, a great deal of leg work. If he locates Dorothy once more, he may have to treat her much as he would a delinquent—bring her before the judge with a recommendation that a custodial rather than a foster home be her future abode for a time. In such an event, she will come under very much the same rules and treatment as a child adjudicated a delinquent. Let us, then, follow a delinquent through probation, bearing in mind that much of the same process applies to dependent and neglected children. Bob Curry, 14, is adjudged a delinquent and placed on probation. The judge tells him he will be discharged in three years if all goes well. The supervision process is much the same as in the case of Sam Smith. There may be some differences in the officer-probationer relationship. Juveniles often relate positively and quickly to their probation officers. On the other hand, the juvenile is more likely to recidivate than the adult. He is more immature, uses poor judgment, cannot as readily foresee the consequences of his acts. However, Bob Curry makes a fine adjustment, at school and home. He and his probation officer get along well. Instead of waiting for three

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years to elapse, the officer recommends that probation be terminated at the expiration of a year. The judge, having authority to shorten or lengthen a probation term, concurs. Bob is discharged. Suppose Bob is on probation the full three years, with only fair conduct. The judge may extend the supervision period, so long as it does not run beyond the young man's minority or other statutory maximum limit. Bob begins probation, but in short order reverts to his former activities. He is brought before the judge, who revokes his probation and sends him to a correctional institution. Bob, on probation, absconds. He is apprehended while still a juvenile. The judge could cancel the delinquency and reinstate him on probation. He could order the boy into an institution. But if Bob is apprehended after reaching his majority, it is unlikely the court will chance a test by «assuming jurisdiction. Rather, it will cancel delinquency and close the case. Assume Bob finishes his probation term and years later, as an adult, is convicted of a felony. His juvenile delinquency record does not make him a second offender. Should he be convicted in a state which limits probation to first offenders, Curry would be eligible.

4 Origins of Parole Parole is a treatment program in which an offender, after serving part of a term in a correctional institution, is conditionally released under supervision and treatment by a parole worker. The word "parole" derives from the French, meaning "promise." A dictionary definition is "word of honor." Probably the term was first used in a correctional context in 1847 by Samuel G. Howe, a Boston penal reformer. Like probation, parole is a treatment program, in the interest of society and individual. But the parolee, unlike the probationer, has served part of a term in a correctional institution. His release is conditional, contingent upon satisfactory behavior. He is under supervision and treatment by a person trained in parole work. EUROPEAN ORIGINS England's contribution to what later metamorphosed into parole was its program of transportation to the American colonies, a program motivated, not by humanitarian considerations, but by economic pressures. In the sixteenth century, England's economy was in a decline. There was much unemployment. The labor market was overcrowded. In the colonies, on the other hand, there was need for cheap labor. The British government decided to grant reprieves and stays of execution to convicted felons physically able to work so that they might be shipped abroad and impressed into service. This system of deportation is part of the history of parole in that it involved mitigation of penal sentence and placement of the erstwhile prisoner in the free community. As in parole, the individual was not an altogether free person.

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The first English transportation law was proclaimed in 1597, authorizing deportation of "Rogues" who "shall appear to be dangerous . . . or otherwise be such as will not be reformed." The law specified if anyrogue so banished from England "shall returne agayne into any part of the Realme . . . without any lawfull Lycence or Warrant so to do, that in every such case the offence shalbe Fellony and the Party offending therein Suffer Death . . . " 1 In 1619 one hundred "dissolute persons" were ordered to Virginia. The government paid a contractor, usually the shipmaster, about five pounds for each prisoner so shipped. In Virginia, the offenders were put up at auction, the highest bidder winning them as indentured servants. A transportée who happened to fall into the hands of a kind master was fortunate. If he was turned over to a brutal one, he suffered without recourse in law or elsewhere. The British government exercised no responsibility for the welfare or control of the former prisoners, so long as they did not return to England. If they returned without authorization, they were subject to death, as has been indicated. Boatloads of felons came over during the colonial period. Probably between fifty thousand to one hundred thousand arrived on these shores, but their number was insufficient to the demand. Virginia thereupon began to import Negro slaves. The labor shortage eased, but the white exiles, depising their lot, fomented unrest among the blacks. This caused consternation among their masters, who could now get along without the transported convicts. Minus the white troublemakers, they could keep the slaves comfortably subjugated. Therefore, in 1670, the General Court of Jamestown announced that "because of the great number of felons and other desperate villains being sent over from the prisons of England, the horror yet remaining of the barbarous designs of those villains . . . we do now prohibit the landing of any more jailbirds . . . " 2 It did Virginians little good to prohibit. The British government was going to do as it pleased. Indeed, the transportation system was broadened. In 1717, under George I, an enactment read: Whereas in many of His Majesty's colonies . . . in America, there is great want of servants . . . be it enacted that any person convicted of any offense for which he is liable to be whipt or burnt on the hand, may be sent to some 1 Quoted in Harry Elmer Barnes, The Story of Punishment (Boston: Stratford Co., 1930), p. 69. 2 Quoted in Margaret Wilson, The Crime of Punishment (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1931), p. 94.

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of his Majesty's Colonies in America. Offenders returning before expiration of their term to be liable to death.3

Under this act, the contractor or shipmaster was given "property in the service" of a prisoner until the expiration of his term. When the felon's services were sold to a settler, the "property in service" agreement was transferred. The transportée, as in Virginia, became an indentured servant. By 1775 the home country was transplanting some two thousand felons annually in the several colonies. The American Revolution wrote finis to the practice. Great Britain thereupon placed some of its convicts on old ships, but there were not enough of these prison hulks to accommodate all. A contingent of prisoners was deported to Africa. The climate, and diseases of the continent, wiped them out. Finally, on January 23, 1787, it was decided to send convicts to the newly discovered regions of Australia. His Majesty announced he was doing this as a means of exploiting the land. A fantastic epoch in British history opened. Under the system of transportation to the American colonies the convicts represented a small fraction of the total population. In Australia they would come to outnumber the settlers. In America transportées became indentured servants, whereupon the British government gave up all responsibility for them. In the Australian plan, the government would stand the expense of shipping the prisoners and would continue control over them in Australia, theoretically maintaining responsibility for their welfare and supervision over their conduct. Transported felons would remain prisoners. The governor of the penal settlement was to be given "property in service." He could assign it to a free settler who would put the prisoner to work. The settler gained the financial benefits from such work, the prisoner obtaining from it only food and shelter. As in America, a convict assigned to a settler might live a relatively comfortable existence or be subjected to tyranny. Those who were unassigned would be kept in penal settlements, and they were indeed going to suffer torment. That prisoners did not want to go to Australia was of no concern to His Majesty: Australia needed their labor. As the Right Honorable William Eden pointed out in 1787, in his Introductory Discourse on Banishment: 3

Quoted in Harry Elmer Barnes, The Story of Punishment,

pp. 70-71.

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Criminals have always been judged a fair subject of hazardous experiments, to which it would be unjust to expose the more valuable members of the state. If there be, therefore, any terrors in the prospect before the wretch who is banished to N e w South Wales, they are no more than he expects; if the dangers of a foreign climate be considered as nearly equivalent to death, the devoted convict naturally reflects that his crimes have drawn on this punishment, and that offended justice . . . does not mean to seat him for life on a bed of roses. 4

The first contingent of convicts was under the command of governordesignate Captain Arthur Phillip, who conceived of the prison colony he planned to establish in New South Wales as one which would make the convict "serviceable to the State," "just to himself," and arm him against future temptation. No tyrant or sadist, Phillip intended to treat his charges fairly and kindly. He hoped to avoid inflicting the death penalty. The fleet of eleven ships set sail on May 13, 1787. In addition to the crew there were 552 males and 190 females aboard, a ratio productive of considerable disruption of discipline. En route, the seamen mutinied over living conditions. Prisoners rebelled because they did not want to be deported. They managed to manufacture spirituous liquor, and rocked the vessels with riotous, bawdy behavior. The fleet reached Botany Bay on January 18, 1788. Phillip sent food ashore by his mariners; they devoured it and came back for more. He beached provisions by a contingent of convicts; they hid it for future use. The felons were ordered to land some cows. They left them on the beach and escaped into the jungle. Sheep were put ashore, only to be killed by lightning. Phillip would have the sailors build a prison. They said they were not hired as builders. The convicts were sure they were not going to erect their own jailhouse. Finally, a few huts were put up, pending erection of a prison enclosure. Life on Botany Bay began. Famine was to succeed famine in the next twenty years. The free settlers suffered as much as the convicts, and were the more frustrated when the latter refused to work. Phillip put some prisoners on Norfolk Island, a thousand miles east of Australia, since fishing was supposed to be plentiful there. The fish stopped biting. Seed brought by the contingent would not sprout. Norfolk Island became the principal repository of transported convicts. It seemed ideal for the containment of prisoners. It was about five miles * Ibid., pp. 102-103.

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long and three miles wide, with a total area of approximately 8,528 acres. There was no safe harbor, and access from the sea was possible only in favorable weather. The island was difficult to land on and practically impossible to escape from. On Norfolk Island, and all over the inhabited areas of Australia where they were placed, the convicts caroused, fought among themselves, spawned children, and obeyed orders only when whipped or tortured. They did not want to make a life for themselves in Australia. They wanted to go home. Some tried to row boats to India, hoping to get to England from there. Others attempted to walk to China. Fifty of their skeletons were found, years later. The once hopeful and humane Captain Phillip decided that these men and women feared not even death. The threat of invoking capital punishment for misbehavior was ineffectual. Phillip concluded that the greatest fear in the mind of man was that he might be devoured. Therefore, he asked for authority, in cases of convicts guilty of murder or sodomy, to sell them to bush natives for meat. It is doubtful that approval was granted by the Home Office. Phillip hoped he might gain some control over his charges when, in 1790, he was empowered to remit sentences of prisoners whose work record and conduct warranted. They would receive a grant of land and the equivalent of an absolute pardon. The prisoners scoffed. The land they wanted was called England. Phillip gave up. In 1792 he asked to be relieved. A succession of governors followed, including the infamous Captain Bligh in 1806. The entire colony, free and criminal, rose against him and held him prisoner until he could be shipped home. Despite, or perhaps because of, mutinies and rebellions, administrators of the penal colonies continued to deal inflexibly with the convicts. On Norfolk Island the gallows stood in full view, a grim reminder of the fate that awaited the recalcitrant. For years at a time, we are told, men worked and ate and slept in irons; the lash or the cat-o'-nine-tails were in habitual use, and the gag, solitary confinement, and the pepper mill were constantly employed as punishments calculated to subjugate creatures made subhuman by deliberate policy.5 5 John Vincent Barry, "Alexander Maconochie," in Hermann Mannheim (ed.), Pioneers in Criminology (London: Stevens and Sons, 1960), pp. 68-90, at p. 78. Reproduced from Journal of Criminal Law, Criminology and Police Science, Vol. 47, No. 2, July-August 1956.

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So unbearable was the regimen that when a Catholic priest visited Norfolk Island in 1834 to minister to men sentenced to death for an uprising, he found other convicts, who had been reprieved, weeping because they were forced to continue living. Those doomed to die fell on their knees and thanked God for the release that was to be theirs.6 TICKET OF LEAVE

Amidst this horror and degradation there came a development directly related to parole as we know it today. Absolute pardons were abolished and a conditional form substituted. It was called "ticket-of-leave," and was not the invention of Alexander Maconochie, as many penologists have assumed. The ticket of leave antedated Maconochie's arrival in Australia. It was a declaration, signed by the colonial governor, excusing a convict from further government work and permitting him to live independently, but within a circumscribcd district. He was no longer a prisoner in close confinement. He supported himself, the government giving up that responsibility with the grant of ticket of leave. Thus we had several of the elements of parole. In a rudimentary way, ticket of leave was a treatment program of sorts, the ticket specifying that the grant was for the convict's "own advantage." It involved release from confinement after part of the sentence was served. Such release was conditional, "during good behavior or until His Excellency's further pleasure shall be made known." But there was no government supervision of the ticket-of-leave recipient, and nothing, of course, was done to counsel him or her, as would be the policy in a modern parole program. This system, inaugurated about 1800, solved few problems. The prisoners still preferred England to Australia. In 1811 a revised policy was instituted. Where, previously, ticket of leave could be granted no matter how little of the sentence had been served, now the regulation limited it to those who had worked off a prescribed portion of their sentence. In 1821 the formula for minima was more definitely delineated: prisoners serving a seven-year term were eligible in four years; those with fourteenyear sentences could earn ticket of leave in six years; lifers might gain conditional liberty in eight years. But the ticket-of-leave plan lay comparatively fallow until Alexander Maconochie arrived on the scene. Although he cannot be credited with * Ibid., at p. 78, paraphrasing a report in Autobiography thorne, published 1891.

of Archbishop

Vila-

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originating the ticket, he may be called the "father" of parole more appropriately than any other person. ALEXANDER MACONOCHIE

Alexander Maconochie7 was bom February 11, 1787, at Edinburg, Scotland. At sixteen he joined the Royal Navy. He was twice wounded. In 1810 he was captured by the French, remaining a prisoner of war until Napoleon's abdication. Repatriated in 1814, Maconochie commanded ships in the war between the United States and England, and saw service at the capture of Washington and the Battle of New Orleans. He left the Navy in 1815 with the rank of Commander. By tradition, this gave him the courtesy title of Captain. Out of the service, he helped found what came to be known as the Royal Geographical Society, serving as its first secretary. In 1833 he was appointed the first Professor of Geography in University College, London. How, then, did he happen to become a penal reformer? His interests ranged far and wide, as is usually the case with the intellectually gifted, but he might not have devoted himself to correctional matters were it not for two occurrences. The first was an offer of work, made in 1836, by Sir John Franklin, another naval officer with a distinguished record. Franklin had been appointed Lieutenant-Governor of Van Diemen's Land, as Tasmania was then known. The British authorities administered it as an island prison. Maconochie, forty-nine at the time, was invited to become Franklin's secretary, the understanding being that, at an early opportunity, he would receive appointment to a post in the Australian colonies more suitable to his rank and abilities. Maconochie accepted. The second occurrence was a request made of Maconochie before he left London to assume his new duties. The Society for the Improvement of Prison Discipline asked if he would get answers to a questionnaire concerning the penal system in Van Diemen's Land. He agreed, after receiving permission from the government to pursue the investigation. It was to cost him his job, but his inquiry fastened his interest upon penal work and philosophy from that point forward. τ Much of what follows concerning Maconochie is based upon John Vincent Barry's "Alexander Maconochie." Barry, a Judge of the Supreme Court of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia, h a s also written a definitive biography, Alexander Maconochie of Norfolk Island (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1958).

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Once in Van Diemen's Land, Maconochie attended to his official duties and at the same time carried on the investigation at the behest of the Society for the Improvement of Prison Discipline. He became convinced that the Van Diemen's Land penal system was iniquitous, vicious, and fruitless. He so reported, passing his documentation on to Governor Franklin for examination. The governor transmitted it without a reading; it stirred up a storm in London, bringing down criticism on the system that Franklin was charged with administering; and Franklin thereupon dismissed Maconochie from his service. A man of stubborn conscience, Maconochie worked all the harder at advocating his point of view. He and his family remained in Van Diemen's Land, where he published Thoughts on Convict Management, and, a year later, Supplement to Thoughts on Convict Management, followed by General Views Regarding the Social Systems of Convict Management. In these, and in his voluminous correspondence, he expressed his penal philosophy in great detail. An integral part of that philosophy was his acceptance of the view of the Classical School of Criminology that man was a rational being, with free will, and hence responsible for his acts. Society had a right, therefore, to punish criminals, this serving as a deterrent. "I am no sentimentalist," Maconochie wrote. "I most fully subscribe to the right claimed by society to make examples of those who break its laws, that others may feel constrained to respect and obey them." But that did not imply that cruel and inhuman punishment was justified. Criminal offenders, he held, "have their claims on us also, claims only the more sacred because they are helpless in our hands, and thus helpless, we have no right to cast them away altogether." In his Crime and Punishment, published in 1846, he wrote: "The proper object of prison discipline is to prepare men for discharge; the first object of prison discipline should be to reform prisoners. . . ." Here was a spokesman for correction, not mere retribution. Society, he asserted in still another volume, Norfolk Island, written in 1848, must not punish for the sake of punishment alone. Of punishment he said that its immediate and direct object in every case should be the reform of the criminal. I contend that we have not even a right to employ means having a different tendency;—we may not do evil that good may come;— and until this Christian principle is fully recognized, in penal as in all other administra-

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tion, I am persuaded that we shall neither be, nor deserve to be, successful in it. But on the other hand, I think that this object can only be comprehensively obtained through the medium of a well-arranged adversity,— and thus while seeking reform, we shall attain also deterring influence. 8

This from the man dismissed from government service. Fortunately for the history of penology, he got another chance. In 1840 he was appointed Superintendent of Norfolk Island, subject to the control of Sir George Gipps, the Governor of New South Wales, whose ideas on penal discipline differed radically from Maconochie's. The incoming Superintendent did not get the free hand he understood would be his. Despite this handicap, he did his best to operate the penal colony according to his convictions. One of his first official acts was to dismantle the gallows. To demonstrate his faith in the essential trustworthiness of prisoners, he and his wife walked among them without protection by bodyguards, a radical departure from tradition. Convinced that the depravity and demoralization on Norfolk Island were due partly to administrators of the colony, he forbade arbitrary punishments and degrading humiliation of prisoners, and established firm controls to see that his assistants obeyed this injunction. To encourage self-respect among convicts, he made it a point to leam each of their names and address them accordingly. In addition he recorded their occupations and other interests in a little notebook, and drew on this information in talking with them. He abolished rules calling for convicts to be servile before guards, and encouraged prisoners to approach and address him at will. When prisoners were brought into police court for infractions, Maconochie later reported, I protected them in full freedom of justificatory statement, and latterly even appointed an overseer . . . to act as defendant's counsel; he was forbidden to tell me what he knew to be false, but was authorized to set all palliatory circumstances in the fairest light, that a stupid fellow might have the same advantage in pleading his case with a clever one. 9

Court proceedings were public, and prisoners with satisfactory records acted as jurors. Here was a new era indeed. The new Superintendent abolished flogging and chains, except where essential for security. Prisoners were allowed to eat with knives and forks, 8 Quoted by John Vincent Barry, Alexander Maconochie of Norfolk Island. p. 74, from Alexander Maconochie, Norfolk Island, London 1848. Appendix. »Quoted in John Vincent Barry. Alexander Maconochie of Norfolk Island, p. 116, from Alexander Maconochie, The Mark System of Prison Discipline, London 1857, pp. 9 ff.

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where previously they used their fingers. Maconochie built schools, churches, and, to encourage reading, distributed books among the inmates. He gave prisoners who earned the privilege a plot of ground for a garden. They could use what they raised or sell it at a fixed price to the commissary. They were permitted to grow and use tobacco, not to encourage its consumption, but to legalize what Maconochie realized he could not prevent. These innovations were shocking enough to the traditionally-minded, but what really drew fire from Maconochie's superiors was a holiday he gave convicts in honor of the Queen's birthday, on May 25, 1840. To begin with, holidays for prisoners were unheard of in the past. What made this one worse was that, at dinner, the celebrants were issued a small quantity of rum (liberally laced with lemonade) to drink the Queen's health. After dinner they engaged in sports and also put on a theatrical performance. There was no rowdiness, no abuse of the exceptional liberty, but when an account of it reached Sydney, and later London, authority, long accustomed to connect the notion of crime and punishment with guilt and misery, was so violently shocked that the decision to recall him waited only on the choice of a successor.10 That would occur some four years later. Meantime Maconochie worked at humanizing a penal colony that had seen little except inhuman brutality. The case of Charles Anderson was a classical example. As an orphan, Anderson spent his childhood in a British workhouse, an institution where indigents were housed and fed in return for which they worked, to prove they were willing to work. At age nine, Charles was apprenticed to work in a coal ship. Later he joined the Navy. He received a severe head wound, which produced an abrupt change in his personality, so that when angered or in his cups he became irrational and violent. Along with several other drunken sailors, he engaged in a street fight in an English seaport, in the course of which several shops were broken into and looted. Anderson was convicted of burglary and sentenced to a seven-year transportation term. He was then eighteen. A journal 11 later described what happened after he reached a penal colony : 10 John Vincent Barry, "Alexander Maconochie," at p. 80. 11 Meliora, Vol. 4, No. 13, April 1861, pp. 12-14, quoted in John Vincent Barry, "Alexander Maconochie," at pp. 121-24.

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He was assigned to Goat Island, an insulated rock in Sydney Harbor, used for first offenders. Severely treated, he absconded after two months. He was apprehended, brought to Sydney Barracks, given a hundred lashes, and returned to Goat Island, where he received a hundred more and was sentenced to wear irons for twelve months. Before the year was up he had received twelve hundred more lashes for trivial offenses, such as looking at a passing steamship. He again escaped, was recaptured, given two hundred lashes, and then tried for the escape and sentenced to a hundred more lashes and to be chained to a rock for two years. With barely a rag on his body, he was fastened to the rock by a twentysix foot chain that circled his waist. His legs were ironed. His bed was a hollow scooped out in the rock, just deep enough to admit his body. At night, a wooden lid, with holes to permit breathing, was placed over him and locked into position. That was how Anderson slept. By day, food was shoved at him from the tip of a pole, as if he were a ferocious wild animal. Fellow convicts were forbidden to speak to him. When a former messmate slipped the chained man a chunk of tobacco, the violator received a hundred lashes. Exposed to the weather, Anderson's shoulder and back coverings were whipped to shreds by winds. His body was covered with sores from repeated floggings, and maggots fed upon his flesh. He was denied water to bathe his wounds, and when rain fell, he would lie and roll in it, hoping to relieve his agony. A Home Office inspector, visiting Goat Island, ordered Anderson transferred to another penal colony, at Port Macquarie—under a life sentence. So the original seven-year sentence became a life term. At Port Macquarie Anderson was put to work carrying baskets of lime from kilns to barges. As the lime mixed with sea water, it burned the skin off the carrier's back. Anderson escaped once more, was recaptured, given two hundred lashes, returned to the lime kiln detail. As the wet lime ate into his lacerated back, he decided death was preferable to the horrible pain. Seeking release by way of the gallows, he killed an overseer with a spade. He got his wish, was condemned to death, but ironically, the sentence was commuted and he was transferred to Norfolk Island where, it was stipulated, he must work in chains for the rest of his miserable life. Practically a wild animal now, he violated rules repeatedly, committed assaults. Fellow prisoners taunted him, and he came to hate them as much

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as he did his jailers. This was the Charles Anderson whom Captain Maconochie encountered when he assumed command of Norfolk Island. The Captain wondered how he could give this deteriorated man some reason for wanting to live and behave like a human being. He gave him some bullocks to tend. This allowed Anderson more freedom of movement than he had ever had in any penal colony. Moreover, it furnished exercise, and separated him from his jeering fellows. The prisoner took to his task with alacrity. He was doing something useful, and he liked that. He handled his flock very well, and won Maconochie's praise. He became less hostile, more amenable to discipline. He and his flock grew tractable together. In another demonstration of his wisdom, Maconochie next placed Anderson in charge of a signal station at the highest point on the island. He was all alone there, on his own. Instead of managing his bullocks, he was to manage himself. And he did. He performed his duties scrupulously, spent his free time gardening. He regained his confidence, went about his duties neatly dressed in sailor's garb, and adored the man who brought all this about. Eventually, Charles Anderson broke down mentally and was hospitalized. He was out of touch with reality most of the time, unaware of what was going on about him, but when Maconochie, his wife, or their children, visited him, he returned to reality, recognized his callers. He showed affection for them to the day he died. Had Maconochie contributed only his concept of humane penal administration he would deserve high rank among history's penologists. But he did more. And what he did laid the groundwork of what we call parole today. THE MARK SYSTEM

Maconochie's distinctive contribution to parole was the mark system, which he made an integral part of the ticket-of-leave program. Marks were a convict's "wages." He got nothing for nothing; everything had to be earned. Instead of a time sentence, a prisoner now had a labor, or task, sentence. Under the old system he was required to serve a predetermined number of years, no matter how he behaved. Under the mark system, he could earn earlier release by the sweat of his brow and good behavior. A prison chaplain described the operation of the mark system:

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To carry out his principles, Captain Maconochie treated the convict as a labourer, with marks for wages, and required him to earn a certain number as the condition of his discharge. These marks had an alternative value; they could either purchase extra food, or the deduction of so many days from the sentence. He fixed on ten marks as a fair day's wages, the men being paid by piecework, and not by time; and for every ten marks he saved, the convict shortened his term by a day. At the stores he purchased daily his necessary supplies, paying for them in marks. The rations were served out at three rates; the coarsest and cheapest cost three, the next four, the best five marks per diem. The abstemious felon might thus save seven marks, and even the self-indulgent five, each day, for the purchase of his liberty; and as extra marks were allowed for over-work and hard work, it was possible to hoard at the rate of eight or ten a day. The marks, too, furnished the means of disciplinary punishment, a proportionate fine being the penalty for every act of misconduct. 1 2

Maconochie's mark system gave prisoners hope. They, and they alone, could reduce their sentences. As the Captain put it: "When a man keeps the key of his own prison, he is soon persuaded to fit it to the lock." 13 And he did. He buckled down, worked harder than ever before, saved his marks. And when he had enough of them, he was ready for ticket of leave. Only now it had a different dimension, one that greatly appealed to the prisoner. Under the new system he could return to England if he chose. It was a tremendous incentive, one that Maconochie had foreseen and capitalized on. GRADATIONS OF SERVITUDE

An adjuvant of the mark system was Maconochie's gradations of servitude. He reasoned that prisoners were subjected to grave temptations if released from maximum custody directly into the free community. Such sudden withdrawal of control often produced violent explosions as former inmates found themselves able to satisfy desires repressed for years. Maconochie introduced inmates by degrees to responsibility for self in community life. His gradations were: (1) strict custody; (2) labor in government gangs; (3) freedom within a prescribed area; (4) ticket of leave, which permitted the prisoner to live where he chose, but under conditions; (5) full restoration of liberty. 12

Quoted in John Vincent Barry, "Alexander Maconochie," at p. 77, from Rev. W. L. Clay, The Prison Chaplain (London: 1861), pp. 247-48. 1S Quoted in Frederick H. Wines, Punishment and Reformation (New York: Crowell, 1895), p. 209.

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During the first, or penal, stage, convicts worked in prison enclosures, under strict discipline. In the second, they were formed into groups of six, choosing their own companions. This was the socializing stage. Each group had a common fund of marks. Inmates' daily earnings were paid into the fund. The cost of food and of fines for misconduct was deducted from it. Thus, by Maconochie's perceptivity, convicts became responsible for each other's conduct. If one shirked work, all six suffered, since marks that would otherwise accumulate to their collective credit were not added to the common fund. If one prisoner violated rules, the entire group was penalized by loss of marks. Maconochie knew that many prisoners were intensely selfish. By making group behavior the criterion for group reward he hoped to instill in his charges sound attitudes toward sharing group life. The purpose of the third stage of servitude was to give prisoners back some of their individuality, once they had learned to live as group members. When a group had earned the requisite number of marks, it was broken up. Each erstwhile member was free to move about within a stipulated area. He worked to earn more marks, but he had his own hut and garden. He could also have a piggery or poultry yard if he wished. By giving his charges individual and property rights, Captain Maconochie expected to teach them respect for human and property rights of others. In the fourth gradation of servitude, individuals who had earned sufficient marks received ticket of leave and were permitted to live anywhere at all, even in England. However, they were to report their residence to police, and were expected to refrain from further illegal acts. After a ticket-of-leave man or woman had been in that category for a time (not clearly specified in documentary sources) he or she entered the sixth and final stage, full restoration to liberty, with no further restrictions of any kind. Here we have a treatment program in which an offender, after serving some time, was conditionally released. And there was now some conception of supervision of the holder of a ticket. There was, however, scarcely anything that could be deemed treatment in the post-release period. END OF AN

EXPERIMENT

Norfolk Island was transformed under Alexander Maconochie. Prisoners regained hope; their spirits improved as they were treated as human beings again. Not all convicts did their best, however, and for the seeming

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incorrigibles physical punishment, including the lash, continued as part of the regimen. However, such punishments were greatly reduced under Maconochie, and when meted out at all, the result of fair, legal proceedings. Not only did Maconochie encounter resistance to his policies from his administrative superiors, but he also ran into a legal snag after he had his system in operation. Under a particular law, over half of the convicts in his charge had been classified as beyond reclamation. This being the case, they could not be assured that they would receive ticket of leave once they had earned their marks. They would have to serve out their full sentences, regardless. Other inmates, however, could benefit from the new system. Of about 1,450 prisoners discharged on ticket of leave during Maconochie's tenure, the proportion of reconvictions was said to be less than 3 percent, a remarkably low recidivism rate. Of 920 "old hands," those supposedly irreclaimable, hence forced to serve their full sentences, only twenty were known to have been reconvicted after being freed. Again, this is remarkably low as a recidivism figure, and would argue that Maconochie had done a good deal to refashion the attitudes of "old hands" as well as ticket-of-leave individuals. However, the figures must be regarded with caution. Criminal statistics were far from adequate at that time, and many crimes went unreported to police. If reported, their perpetrators might not be known.14 Maconochie survived official criticism until 1844, when he was recalled. Thereafter, Norfolk Island became what it had been before his administration. But the transportation system was doomed. During Maconochie's four-year incumbency, gold was discovered on the Australian continent. Free settlers arrived in hordes, in search of the precious metal. They resented the presence of the convicts, who might become their competitors under the mark system and ticket of leave. The settlers demanded that prisoners and ticket-of-leave holders be got out of the gold fields and off the continent. In short, they demanded an end to the system of transportation of criminals. They threatened revolt, and England gave heed. The transportation system was suspended, that is, no further prisoners were sent to Australia. And operation of penal colonies was fully The figures are reported by John Vincent Barry, "Alexander Maconochie," at pp. 81-82. The cautionary word is by the present author.

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terminated in 1867, although as late as 1890 the British were still paying for the support of those convicts who remained in Australia. So it was that in Australia, as in America, economic, not humanitarian, considerations wiped out the transportation system. As for Captain Maconochie, he had returned to England after his dismissal and doggedly continued his campaign for penal reform. In 1849, probably through the intercession of his friend, Matthew Davenport Hill, he was appointed Governor of the new Birmingham Borough Prison. Here again, his ideas were ahead of the folkways. His policies were attacked and in 1851 he was dismissed, his superiors declaring he was too lenient with prisoners. His health failed shortly thereafter and he never worked for pay in a penal setting again. He did continue fighting for his ideas, in speeches, pamphlets, and evidence given before committees inquiring into penal conditions. In 1856 the British House of Commons passed a number of resolutions on prison and post-prison objectives and procedures. By that time humanitarianism had tinctured penological thought. The resolutions embodied and approved just about everything that Maconochie had been fighting for. It was a moral victory for the sick old man. But a moral victory only. The House did not acknowledge the source of its ideas. Maconochie's name was not so much as mentioned. Alexander Maconochie died at Morden, Surrey, on October 25, 1860, at the age of seventy-three. There was only a brief announcement of his death in The Times, not even a formal obituary. In ensuing years, compilers of the Dictionary of National Biography found no place at all for the man who, according to his biographer, "had done more than anyone in England to lay the foundations of a scientific and sensible approach to the complex problem of criminal punishment." 15 But Maconochie's work lived after him. Ticket of leave had come into use in England. Persons holding the ticket were free to move about as they pleased. They were supposed to comport themselves properly, but there was no supervisory force to see that they did. Former prisoners were under instructions to keep police informed of their whereabouts, but if they failed to report, it was unlikely that punitive steps would be taken, since there was no enforcement staff. is John Vincent Barry, Alexander

Maconochie

of Norfolk

Island, p. 224.

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THE IRISH SYSTEM

Refinements were added to ticket of leave when Walter Crofton, a disciple of Maconochie, became head of the Irish prison system. As it happens, it was his ideas, largely borrowed from Maconochie, that most directly influenced the United States. Walter Crofton, therefore, ranks as another pioneer of parole. He gave it what was known as the "Irish system." Like Maconochie, Crofton viewed the prison sentence and ticket of leave as two facets of one program, designed to rehabilitate, not merely to punish. He more firmly established the stages of servitude. For about nine months, a prisoner was in solitary confinement, on reduced diet and forced to do monotonous labor. Then he was assigned to public works, and began earning marks. His privileges increased. The third stage was served either in the institution at Lusk or at Smithfield and was centered on preparation for release. Here the prisoner worked without supervision. His privileges further increased. Finally, he was released when he had an approved job. He was then under somewhat more careful supervision than theretofore. In rural areas, releases were supervised by police, but those residing in Dublin came under the jurisdiction of an Inspector of Released Prisoners, a civilian, who had a twofold function. He protected the community by checking as best he could on his charges and cooperating with police when suspicion developed. He also attempted to assist those whom he supervised. They reported to him. He helped them find jobs, visited their homes, checked employment. The first person to hold this post, the equivalent of today's parole officer, was James P. Organ. According to record, he was a tireless man indeed. Now we had all the requisites of parole, including supervision, treatment, and a paid, official parole worker. AMERICAN ORIGINS The American Colonies, it will be recalled, received felons via the British transportation system and made them indentured servants. Indenture, which goes back to sixteenth-century English law, is itself an antecedent of parole. Under this system, an individual was bound out to a master for a certain period, to be taught a trade while performing service for his sponsor. Originally, indenture was not planned as a program for the offender group. Rather, it was intended as a means of support and trade

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training for dependent persons. Benjamin Franklin was indentured to his brother at the age of twelve. The conditions of the agreement should interest us, since they resemble modern rules and regulations applied to probationers and parolees: Taverns, inns or alehouses he shall not haunt. At cards or dice tables or any other unlawful game he shall not play. Matrimony he shall not contract nor from the services of his said master day or night absent himself.1· In time, indenture was adapted to penological needs. After juvenile offenders had served part of a term in correctional institutions they might be placed out. They were bound to masters, as was done with nonoffenders. The states at first assumed no responsibility for the supervision of such work-home arrangements. In the middle of the nineteenth century, however, New York set the beginning of a pattern by appointing a state agent to supervise the children and see to it they were not unduly exploited. Reduction of sentence for "good time" was another step toward parole. We have seen how this was achieved under ticket of leave. In the United States, "good time" laws preceded parole. They are commonly referred to as "commutation" laws, for they commute the sentence, that is, lessen its severity, by legal formula. Adults received definite, or determinate, sentences in the nineteenth century. A ten-year term meant ten years in prison. The prisoner served it all. Whether he behaved or not, worked or not, learned something or not, he could neither lengthen nor shorten his sentence. This created problems of prison discipline. In 1817 the New York legislature passed a commutation law intended to alleviate the situation. It allowed time off the definite sentence for good conduct and work willingly performed. However, the law was not mandatory upon wardens, and was never actually employed in an institution of the state. In 1821 Connecticut passed a commutation law applicable to workhouse inmates. This statute was used. Other states wrote similar laws. But commutation was not parole. Those definite-sentence prisoners who profited from it were released earlier, but unconditionally as a rule, and without supervision. Parole works most effectively under an indeterminate sentence. A truly indeterminate term would specify neither minimum nor maximum limits, l e C a r l Van Doren, Benjamin

Franklin

(New York: Macmillan, 1938), p. 13.

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leaving these to the discretion of a specified authority. We have no such sentence in the United States. We do have what is called an "indeterminate" term, but it always specifies a maximum and almost always a minimum. However, a prisoner is able to shorten his period of incarceration under the indeterminate sentence. If released ahead of his maximum, he still "owes" part of the sentence and can be placed under parole supervision. The flexibility of the indeterminate sentence is a strong psychological factor in parole. The principle of the indeterminate sentence was first employed in a New York State enactment of 1824, applying exclusively to juveniles. Not until the same state erected the reformatory at Elmira was this country to have an indeterminate sentence for adults. And with the creation of the New York State Reformatory at Elmira, we were to build into its program the first parole system in the United States. Elmira Reformatory was a product of the times, an outcropping of the reformatory movement. Penologists had fretted for years over the failure of the prison system. What was needed, progressives insisted, was an institution based upon a new premise. It would deemphasize punishment for the sake of punishment and substitute reeducation of the offender. Reformatories would reform, meaning reshape, human beings. The reformatory movement first took root in the Eastern United States. Franklin Benjamin Sanborn, secretary of the Board of State Charities of Massachusetts, issued a report in 1865 describing the Maconochie and Crofton ticket-of-leave systems. Two years later, Enoch Wines and Theodore Dwight, of the New York Prison Association, recommended to the New York legislature the creation of a reformatory run along the principles of the Irish system. Thus, Wines, Dwight, and other leaders of the reformatory movement were heavily influenced by Walter Crofton, who was heavily influenced by Alexander Maconochie. It was proposed to build an institution for young adults with reformation as the goal and with some provision for aftercare upon their release. Elmira opened its doors in July, 1876. It was not envisaged as a maximum security prison, but it retained some of the physical features of such edifices nevertheless. There were barred cells, locked corridors, the standard safe custody provisions. The great departure was in program. The first superintendent was Zebuion R. Brockway. An experienced and progressive penologist for his time, he set the tone of Elmira Reformatory.

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The age range for commitment was sixteen to thirty. Only defendants never before convicted of felony were eligible for reception at Elmira. The principles behind the institution are worth study. Enunciated by the founders, they contributed to parole philosophy in the United States: 1. Offenders are reformable. This simple assertion is the core of parole philosophy. If people cannot be helped to change for the better, why spend money on parole? 2. Reformation is the right of every convict and the duty of the state. Revolutionary doctrine! Most people felt that criminals had no rights and that the one duty of the state was to punish them. 3. Every prisoner must be individualized. The emphasis would be upon the offender, not the offense. 4. Time must be given the reformatory process to take effect. If faith in Elmira was justified, if it had something to offer, then the emphasis should not be upon rushing men out, but on helping them get the maximum benefits while they are inside. Teaching a trade, schooling, treating attitudes—these would take time. 5. The prisoner's cure is always facilitated by his cooperation and often impossible without it. Today, we are chary of the word "cure" in this context, for we are not sure whether or when it has been effected. Nevertheless, contemporary penologists approve the general principle. 6. No other form of reward and punishment is so effective as transfer from one custodial class to another, with different privileges in each. But the most important agency for gaining a prisoner's cooperation is the power possessed by the administrators to lengthen or shorten the term of incarceration. That called for a program of parole. At Elmira it was patterned on the Irish system, in the main. 7. Finally, the reformatory process is educational. That means more than instructional. It includes the concept of reeducation of attitudes, motivation, behavior. Elmira made use of the mark system, grades of incarceration, the indeterminate sentence, and conditional release—called parole. While the parole system was fashioned on Crofton's, it underscored more than he did the necessity for adequate supervision of parolees by competent personnel. Parole and the indeterminate sentence spread from Elmira to other institutions in the state, and from New York into other parts of the

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country. By 1891, eight states had authorized the indeterminate sentence, but only for first offenders (except in New York State). 17 Today it is much more widespread and inclusive. Every state now has statutory provision for both juvenile and adult parole. The pattern is patchy, however. Not all jurisdictions provide for parole of misdemeanants. The federal courts used a definite sentence in adult cases for many years, but by operation of "good time" laws, prisoners so sentenced could be released and placed under supervision before the full term was served. This situation still obtains, but in 1958 a federal statute provided, for the first time in the history of the federal judicial system, a modified indeterminate sentence procedure. Use of the indeterminate sentence is possible but not obligatory in any case. As we shall see, statutory provision for parole service does not necessarily mean that these services are actually available. But in many jurisdiction they are; parole has become an integral part of the correctional structure; and it is growing and moving ahead in method. 17

And in New York, women were excluded from its benefits!

5 Parole Today More than 60 percent of adult felons serving terms in institutions are released on parole prior to the expiration of the maximum terms of their sentences. An even larger proportion of juveniles and those coming under the purview of "youthful offender" laws leaves institutions by operation of parole law. This means, however, that a sizeable percentage of individuals who leave peno-correctional institutions do not do so through the agency of parole. WHO IS A PAROLEE? Who is a parolee? For our purposes, a parolee is ( 1 ) an individual who has been released from a peno-correctional institution by action of a paroling body and placed under parole supervision; or (2) one released through other means, but required to place himself under parole supervision thereafter, subject to parole conditions. A person under an indeterminate sentence and subject to the releasing jurisdiction of a parole authority is a parolee, both in that he was released by a parole body and because he is subject to parole conditions upon release. An indeterminate sentence usually is expressed in a minimum and maximum, as for example, two to five years. By law, the prisoner becomes eligible for parole when he has served a stipulated minimum portion of his sentence, as will be explained in this chapter. The parole authority may either release at that time or decline to do so. If it releases a prisoner at any time prior to service of the maximum term, it is paroling him, and his reentry into the free community is based on parole action. Contrary to common belief, the parole authority cannot shorten the

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incarceration period of an inmate beyond the legal limit. It may release him at the legal minimum, or past it, but not before the minimum has been served. If release does not come at minimum—and this happens often—the parole authority has acted to increase the time spent in the institution. Juveniles usually enter institutions under laws which stipulate the maximum period of jurisdiction that the state may exercise—as, for example, until the individual attains his majority—but which do not specify a minimum period of institutionalization. In such cases, a parole authority sets the minimum period, and the juvenile released by action of the authority is a parolee. A slight trend has developed toward calling him a person in the status of "juvenile aftercare," this in order to separate juvenile programs from the legalistic language and concepts of adult parole. Nevertheless, such a juvenile is a parolee in the legal sense. An adult prisoner may have his sentence commuted to "time served," such action being on the part of a governor of a state or of the President of the United States, depending upon whether the conviction was in a state or federal court. Commutation to time served is an act of executive clemency. For example, let us say a prisoner serving a thirty-to-fifty-year sentence, having been incarcerated for five years, receives a commutation of his minimum sentence to time served. This is not by action of a parole authority. But that authority now has before it an inmate whose sentence has become five to fifty years. He is immediately eligible for parole consideration. Theoretically, the parole authority may decline to parole. If it paroles, the individual concerned is a parolee by virtue of the source of the release order, and also because he will be under parole supervision. These are the only forms of release on the authority of a paroling body. All others come about through other than parole auspices. However, some of the persons so released may become parolees ajter leaving the institution. There is the indeterminate sentence prisoner who has been denied parole and ordered to serve the legal maximum of his sentence. He will leave the institution only after he has served all of that sentence. When discharged he will not be on parole, and will not be a parolee. In some jurisdictions a prisoner may be mandatorially released at "maximum less compensation." This means he earns "good time" off, for satisfactory behavior and work willingly performed. His term actually becomes the maximum sentence less the good time. When released, he

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is subject to no parole supervision, unless, as in some jurisdictions, he be required by law to place himself under parole jurisdiction for the period he earned off for good time. In that event, although not released by action of the parole authority, he becomes a parolee by stipulation upon release. There is the definite, or determinate, sentence prisoner, who receives a term carrying no minimum, only a "flat," or maximum, sentence, such as ten years. A person so convicted must serve that time less compensation, or good time, after which he must be released. Parole authorities have nothing to do with his release. In some jurisdictions, however, definite sentence prisoners are released with the stipulation that they must serve the remainder of the term, that is, the equivalent of the good time allowance, under supervision. Again, this is an instance of a mandatory release; the parole authority could not have prevented or hastened it; but the released individual becomes a parolee when he leaves the institution, under terms of his release. There is the misdemeanant, more often than not the forgotten man or woman in parole, as in probation. Most misdemeanants are simply released from local jails without provision for supervision on the outside. A paroling authority may have ordered the release, or it may have occurred automatically, by virtue of sentencing laws. In either event, the releasee is not a parolee, for he receives no supervision and is subject to no enforceable conditions. A recent survey of 212 local jails indicated that 131, or 62 percent, had no parole procedure whatever. In the other 81 jails, only 8 percent of the inmates were released on parole, and 92 percent were simply discharged at the expiration of their sentences.1 Misdemeanants released by other than parole authorities, and not under supervision thereafter, are not parolees. Those released by a parole body when it could have retained the prisoners are parolees. Persons released by operation of law, not parole, but placed under parole supervision thereafter—a small minority—are parolees upon release. There is the inmate who leaves prison through pardon, an act of executive clemency. The paroling authority may have advised the executive or made recommendation to him for the pardon, but the grant is an act of grace by the governor or president, not by the parole body. The 1 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, The Challenge of Crime in a Free Society (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 166.

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pardon may call for release without conditions specifying supervision, in which event the recipient is not a parolee. It may provide that the pardoned person places himself under parole supervision for a stipulated period, in which case he is a parolee during that period. Finally, a small percentage of prisoners are executed or die from natural causes while serving sentences. These, of course, will not become objects of the paroling body's attention.

THE INSTITUTIONAL EXPERIENCE Every releasee enters the status of parolee after a period of incarceration, which has left its impress upon him. 2 We must understand what incarceration has meant to him and what it has done to and for him if we are to supervise him most effectively. Jails, prisons, and reformatories, as well as correctional schools for juveniles, differ widely by and within category, but one thing is certain: the inmate believes his incarceration was meant to disgrace him. He knows he has "lost face" in society. Although he is in the institution to be "rehabilitated," he is also there to be punished, as he sees it. Incarceration is itself punishment. As for treatment in the interest of rehabilitation, consider: We remove people from the free community so that we may teach them to live in the free community. We want them to live normal sexual and marital lives, and we isolate them from contact with the opposite sex. We want them to make their own wise decisions and accept responsibility for these decisions once made. To accomplish this, we place them in an environment where they are forbidden to make even simple decisions. We tell them when they will arise, bathe, go to breakfast, to the shop, to bed, even to the toilet. We decide when they shall talk and when not, when they may walk through a doorway or gate. We tell them what they will wear, to whom they may write, and how often. We want prisoners to learn good work habits, so they may support themselves and their dependents on the outside, but we keep most of them idle in institutions, put a good many to relatively meaningless mainte2

Many probationers, of course, have also served prior terms of incarceration, but these were in the past. Part of the impact may—or may not—have been dissipated by the time probation begins.

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nance work, and assign the rest to trade training which, if it exists at all, is likely to leave much to be desired. We want prisoners to be "normal," to which end we place them in an abnormal environment, unlike anything else on the outside, in daily contact with fellow inmates, many of them abnormal by any definition. Even the best managed institution is an abnormal environment for human beings, and no way yet devised has overcome that handicap. Take away from a man his freedom, his right to make decisions, his opportunity for sexual and family life, and you deprive him of three of the most precious things in life. The longer his sentence, the more likely a prisoner is to be corrupted by the institutional climate. In The Prison Community,s Donald Clemmer makes the point that a correctional institution is a community in the sociological sense, a special kind of community but one which, like any other, exerts a powerful influence over the residents. The prison community, Clemmer writes, breeds "prisonization" among inmates, which is exactly what we do not want. In prison society, inmates accept behavior norms, dogma, and myths, concerning the institution and the outside world, most of which impede rehabilitation. Clemmer views prisonization as one specific example of the general processes of assimilation which occur when and where individuals are introduced to an unfamiliar culture. What happens is that inmates internalize the criminal outlook. They become relatively immune to the influence of a more conventional value system. In other words, we spend millions hoping to "socialize" prisoners, only to desocialize them further. To be sure, some inmates will not become prisonized, although escaping this is extremely difficult because of the social pressures within the prison community. Clemmer, in fact, believes that no inmate can remain altogether unprisonized. The very fact that he is incarcerated exposes him to certain "universal features" of imprisonment, such as acceptance of an inferior role and recognition that an inmate owes the environment nothing for supplying his basic needs. The social distance between staff member and inmate in a prison community is considerable. The offender is afforded little opportunity to associate with personnel on friendly terms of equality. Forced to associate with other inmates, he becomes a captive of the culture of captives. He comes to admire the man who steals from the commissary and gets away * Donald Clemmer, The Prison Community

(New York: Rinehart, 1940).

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with it. He learns to respect the prisoner-politician, and to despise the "rat." He finds logic in the argument that stealing a Ford is work for "punks," that the "good" thief steals a Cadillac, because if the thief is caught, it costs as much in time to steal a Ford as a Cadillac, so why not "steal big"? Commenting on the climate of peno-correctional institutions, The President's Commission remarks: It is easy to see why deterring offenders from further crime is almost impossible in such a climate. Despite its avowed purpose, the authoritarian regime is deficient in instilling discipline and respect for authority. The maintenance of discipline between staff and inmates reinforces the idea of many criminals and delinquents that law and authority are ranged against them; the emphasis on a myriad of rules, unexplained to inmates and often unreasoned in their operation, hardly educates a prisoner in the values of order in society. The existence of an illegitimate subculture of inmate relationships, often founded on violence and corruption, intensifies the criminal's commitment to these values. 4

These are some of the conditions that will have shaped the individual about to come out on parole. There are exceptions, of course. In some jails and prisons the danger of antisocial contagion is not as great as in others. Although most juvenile institutions have as unhealthy a climate as adult prisons, some are outstanding exceptions that prove the rule. Fortunately, too, what Clemmer called prisonization may not be a "forever" condition. There is some evidence that, given favorable circumstances, "deprisonization" takes place after a released inmate has been in the free community for a while. Deprisonization may even begin before release. In his study,6 Stanton Wheeler found that "the inmate's response to the prison is adaptive"—that is, "he becomes deprisonized as well as prisonized . . ." Wheeler found evidence of a "recovery process" and a shedding of the prison culture sometimes prior to parole, at least on the part of some inmates. The dominance of the prison culture is reduced, he believes, as men prepare to leave it. In part this is because certain of the problems of imprisonment, notably of threats to the self, decrease as the inmate nears release. The social control of custodians will soon be a 4 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 47. β Stanton Wheeler, "Socialization in Correctional Communities," American Sociological Review, Vol. 26, No. 5, October 1961, pp. 697-712.

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thing of the past, as will the constant presence of other inmates and the material and sexual deprivations. However, the sense of rejection and degradation implicit in the offender's status does not necessarily decline with release, for the ex-con label still applies. The inmate who sheds the negative outlook required by the inmate system may inherit in its place the rejecting feelings the culture served largely to deny. In this sense the function of the inmate culture may be to delay the facing of problems imposed by a degraded social status, rather than to solve them.® Consider now the inmate as he steps out of the institution. He is about to experience "passage of status," that is, the transition from one status to another. Up until a moment ago and for some time before that, he was a prisoner. Now he is a free man, and his rights and obligations are different than they most recently were. The parole period begins with an abrupt change in the individual's way of life. With minimal preparation the offender moves from a subservient, deprived, and highly structured institutional life into a world that bombards him with stimuli, presents complicated problems requiring immediate solution, and expects him to assume responsibilities to which he has long been unused. . . . The expectations, norms and cues appropriate to an institutional inmate, learned under threat or severe sanctions, have little pertinence for behavior in the free world. This abrupt introduction to the tasks of statuspassage constitutes a crisis for the individual, inducing major disorientation and requiring strenuous adaptive maneuvers by the individual himself and others who play significant roles in his adjustment. 7 Proceeding toward home, the inmate-turned-parolee wonders: How will my family receive me? Will I be able to get back into the swing of living in a family? How will the people in my neighborhood treat me? Will the police hound me? Is my release job a real job? What is parole like? What does a person have to do to remain in good standing on parole? Will I be able to "make" parole? What about the people 1 used to hang out with—should I look them up? Do I really want to "keep my nose clean," be strictly law abiding? These, and a thousand other questions race through the mind of the newly released person as he makes his first call at the parole office. β Ibid. ι Elliot Studt, The Reentry

of the Offender into the Community

(Washington,

D. C.: United States Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, 1967), p. 3.

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The parole office is a unit of a parole system. Parole systems may be classified according to several common patterns. There are state parole systems, with jurisdiction over persons in state correctional institutions eligible for parole. There are county and municipal units, serving their respective levels of institutions. There is a federal parole system for individuals released from penitentiaries and reformatories under the control of the national government. These are the principal patterns of parole organization. There are variations on these patterns, as for example in New York where, by recent enactment, the New York State Division of Parole, which had jurisdiction up until then only over inmates in state-level prisons and reformatories, assumed a like jurisdiction over prisoners in county jails and penitentiaries. A few parole systems operate within the "Authority" structure. They are state systems, for state institutions, and they operate under a particular orientation, based upon the Model Youth Correction Act drafted by the American Law Institute. It was proposed that a Youth Authority be created in each state, to integrate all work with young offenders from time of adjudication to final discharge. The court would commit to the Authority rather than to a specific institution. The Authority would examine and test the committed youth, assign him to an appropriate institution, supervise the program there, sit as a parole board to select inmates for release, and direct the parole function and field workers supervising parolees. From beginning to end, one Authority would follow the case. In 1941 California led the way by setting up its Youth Correction Authority (later renamed the California Youth Authority). Three years later the state went a step further (and beyond the American Law Institute's proposal), establishing the California Adult Authority on much the same basis as its Youth Authority, with jurisdiction over adult male prisoners. Four other states—Illinois, Massachusetts, Minnesota, and Ohio—currently have Youth Authority structures. There has been a decided trend toward combined statewide probation and parole services, especially during the past twenty years. In thirty states, probation and parole are now administered jointly by one state

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agency. In fourteen, mainly the most densely populated states, parole is operated by a separate service.8

ELIGIBILITY FOR PAROLE When does an inmate become eligible for parole? There is great diversity of pattern. Juveniles may usually be released at any time, within the discretion of the paroling authority. Sentences to reformatories for young adults are also likely to be flexible. Prison sentences are subject to more restrictive statutes. Some adult felony prisoners—the relatively few who are serving straight life terms—will never be eligible for parole. The statutes in twenty-seven out of fifty-one state jurisdictions (Puerto Rico included) rule out persons convicted of certain offenses, such as murder, rape, incest, and kidnapping. These inmates will not be eligible for parole, although they may come out of prison eventually by action of a governor or by service of the maximum sentence. Another basis of exclusion from parole is prior conviction of felony. While the majority of states make it possible for an inmate with a prior felony record to gain parole, a few make him ineligible. Blanket exclusions contradict the principle of individualization. Even where murder is concerned, there is a difference between the hired killer and the man or woman who commits a crime of passion. The latter makes the best possible parole risk, research indicates. Yet the law may proscribe release for such an inmate. The Special Committee on Correctional Standards, reporting to the President's Commission, recommended that laws be enacted to empower the paroling authority "to consider all prisoners for parole regardless of the nature of the offense committed, to establish the time when a prisoner is eligible for parole, and to exercise full discretion in determining the time at which parole should be granted to any eligible person." 9 In addition to denying parole to certain categories of adult offenders altogether, most states specify the minimum time to be served before eligibility occurs for those who may be considered. Similar provisions exist for juveniles in a number of jurisdictions, either by law or adminis8

The total is 51 because in this tabulation Puerto Rico is reckoned as a state. The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections, p. 208. 9

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trative action of the paroling authority. Concerning this, the President's Commission comments: Such requirements ignore the facts of the individual case and can require unnecessary and damaging stays in institutions. While the usefulness of minimum sentences is debated extensively in the adult field, no authoritative body advocates their use for juveniles. 10

In the adult field, several patterns define the minimum time to be served before eligibility for parole occurs: 1. It might be the minimum of the sentence less good time allowance. For example, if the sentence is five to ten years, the prisoner is eligible in five years less the time he earns off for good behavior and work willingly performed. 2. It might be a specified part of the maximum. Some laws require service of half the maximum; others one-third; and so on. 3. There are many other formulas. There may be, for example, a oneyear minimum, regardless of the maximum; or the requirement that one third of the term or ten years be served, whichever is less. A federal prisoner (other than a juvenile delinquent or youthful offender), if serving more than 180 days, is eligible for parole after completing one third of the sentence. When a life sentence is imposed by a federal court, the earliest possible release is in fifteen years.

PAROLE-GRANTING AGENCY Who grants parole? There are basically three types of parole-granting agencies: the institutional board; the central parole board; and a group of public officials whose principal functions are other than parole granting.11 The institutional board is composed mainly, sometimes exclusively, of personnel from the specific prison, reformatory, or training school. The warden or superintendent will almost certainly sit on it and be like Milton's ladies, "whose bright eyes / Rain influence." Other members may be a chaplain, disciplinarian, educational director, or psychiatrist. 10 ibid., p. 63. 11 In a few jurisdictions, paroles from city and county institutions are granted by the court of conviction. And in nine states, the committing judges must become officially involved at some point before juveniles can be paroled by the releasing body.

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Proponents of such boards hold they have an advantage over the central authority. Institutional people, they assert, understand inmates. Prisoner Jones might "con" an outsider, but not the "screw," the "bug doctor," or the warden. Personnel can assess an inmate's dossier more realistically than would someone unfamiliar with intramural life. Opponents of the institutional plan aver that staffs do, indeed, know inmates, since they mingle with them constantly. That very fact, they claim, may produce bias. While institutional dossiers are valuable, they could be made available to an outside, more objective, parole board, along with interpretation. The institutional plan would seem unsound administratively where there is more than one correctional establishment in the jurisdiction. Suppose we have ten state prisons. That means ten boards, ten standards of operation. It means, as a rule, that parole officers from ten prisons cover the same territory. A central plan of administration would save a great amount of money. An institutional board is likely to bow to the warden or superintendent. And he would be less than human if he did not consider certain institutional problems in relation to parole. When inmate population rises, he may urge, "Get them out! We're sleeping them in the corridors!" Parole should be based upon no such extraneous consideration. The central parole board consists of one body which meets in all the institutions of the given jurisdiction to pass on paroles. The President's Commission favors this type of operation. It provides uniform standards of selection for parole, since the same board meets in all of the institutions of the jurisdiction. The central board is not committed to releasing prisoners simply because institutions are crowded. At the same time, it can make use of institutional records on inmates, which will provide it with much of the information known to the staff of that institution. The third type of parole authority, composed of part-time public officials, is a haphazard, catch-as-catch-can body, fortunately in a distinct minority. A governor, his attorney general, and/or other officiais pass on releases. Obviously, each is too preoccupied with other duties to give to selection for parole the painstaking study it requires. In the adult field, the central parole board is predominantly the releasing authority. Not so in the juvenile field. In 1965, in thirty-three of the fifty states and in Puerto Rico, paroling authority was vested in the staff of training schools and other institutions for juveniles. In the other

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seventeen jurisdictions, boards and agencies, in varying degrees independent of the training school itself, constituted the releasing body.12 Table 5.1 shows variety of paroling authorities in those seventeen states. CONSTITUENCY OF PAROLE-GRANTING AGENCY In the majority of state jurisdictions, parole board members are appointed by the governor, usually with the consent of one or both houses of legislature. In Michigan and Wisconsin they are selected by merit system examination. In several jurisdictions a director of public welfare, a board of correction, or the state supreme court makes the selection. Occasionally, a governor empowered to appoint asks appropriate public and private organizations to present him with a panel of acceptable candidates, from which he will make his selection. Table 5.2 shows method of appointment to adult parole boards, as of 1965. Should parole board members be appointees or career officials? There are arguments on both sides of the question. A governor, some say, should have the right to select his top policy-makers, relying on their performance record or discharging them if he cannot sustain their decisions. If he is held responsible by the public for the acts of his top department heads, as is usual, this may stimulate him to appoint the most capable persons possible. TABLE

5.1

Types of Parole Authorities for Juveniles, Other Than Training School Staffs, 17 States, 1965 Number of Jurisdictions Paroling Authority 4 Youth Authorities Training school board 3 Institutions board 2 Department of Corrections 2 Department of Public Welfare 2 Parole board 2 Board of Control 1 Ex-officio board 1 Original source: National Survey of Corrections. Appears as Table 2, The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 65. 12 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and the Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections, p. 65.

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Those defending the negative in this debate would assert that too often a chief executive makes appointments with one eye cocked at the political TABLE

5.2

Method of Appointment to Adult Parole Boards, 50 States and Puerto Rico. 1965 Appointing

officer or agency

Governor State officials Corrections agency Ex-officio

Number of Jurisdictions

39 4 4 4

Original source: National Survey of Corrections. Appears as Table 3, The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections, (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 67.

horizon, the other at his relatives. A merit system discourages the chief executive who would play politics with parole. It brings in careerists with no political obligations, no fences to build or repair, no logs to roll. It creates tenure, continuity of service, and consistency of operation. However selected, not all parole board members devote full time to the work. In 1967 twenty-five states used part-time boards, twenty-three had full-time boards, and three jurisdictions a combination of the two. Part-time boards are most common in states with comparatively low populations. Among the ten largest states, only Illinois had a part-time board in 1967.13 The number of members on boards of parole runs from one to twelve. The qualifications desired are for the most part set forth only vaguely in law. Members might be expected to be "persons of good moral character," a semantic teaser challenging any appointing body. In California the law is more specific. Members of the Adult Authority shall have "a broad background in and ability for appraisal of law offenders and the circumstances of the offense for which convicted." While that specification presents its difficulties in interpretation, the law goes on to say that in so far as practicable, members "shall be selected who have a varied and sympathetic interest in corrections work including persons widely experienced in the fields of corrections, sociology, law, law enforcement, and education."14 In Michigan and Wisconsin, the two states appointing board 13 Ibid., p. 66.

« Sec. 5075, California Penal Code.

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members under a merit system, appointees are required to have a college degree in a behavioral science. They must also have a background of experience in correctional work. Some statutes stipulate that after appointment the board member shall not engage in political activity or hold any other public office. Some provide that he or she must hold no other employment, engage in no business, and devote full time to official parole duties. Tenure of board members runs from "pleasure of the governor" to life. If less than life, members may usually be reappointed. Four- and six-year terms are the most common. Table 5.3 shows term of office of parole board members in fifty states and Puerto Rico, by number of jurisdictions, in 1967. There is great diversification in salary, running from none to a per diem allowance to a top of over $17,000 annually. Table 5.4 shows beginning salaries of parole board members, by number of jurisdictions, in 1967. The median salary is in the $13,000 to $17,000 range.

TABLE

5.3

Term of Office of Parole Board By Number of States Term of Office

Pleasure of Governor During Term of Office16 2 Years 3 Years 4 Years 5 Years 6 Years 7 Years 12 Years Life

Members, Number of States

2 1 3 2 11 4 21 1 1 5 51

18 Applies to board composed of elected officials. Source: "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, No. 1, January 1967, p. 216, Table 5.

Vol. 13,

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5.4

Beginning Salaries of Parole Board By Number of States

Less than $5,000 $5,000-9,000 9,000-13,000 13,000-17,000 Over 17,000 Per Diem None Unknown Total

Members,

Chairman

Member

5 5 7

8

12

4 10 8

0 51

6 8 7 3 10

9 0 51

Source: "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, No. 1, January 1967, p. 217, Table 6.

Vol. 13,

PAROLE HEARINGS The parole board has been appointed. It is ready to consider cases of prisoners eligible for parole. In some jurisdictions the prisoner is required to make formal application for parole before he may be considered. In most he is not. He usually receives a hearing before the parole board, although the most common interpretation of law is that such hearing is not mandatory. Acting on such information as it has before it, and its impression of the inmate after interviewing him, the board decides whether it will order his release. PAROLE SUPERVISION Who supervises on parole? The President's Commission, reporting in 1967, found that in thirty-four states the agency administering the training schools and other institutions for juveniles also supervises those released. In the remaining sixteen states, supervision is by a variety of organizations, including local social agencies and probation departments.16 The Commission comments that although there is some disagreement, the dominant view in the field among standard-setting agencies such as the United States Children's Bureau, is that The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections, p. 70.

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parole supervision in the juvenile field should not be the responsibility of an institution but should be administered by an agency with responsibility for both the institution and the field staff. There is no significant support for an independent parole board controlling the field staff that serves juvenile offenders.17 In the adult field, as we have learned, centralized, independent parole boards predominate. As of 1967, among the fifty states and Puerto Rico, thirty-one jurisdictions have field staff report through an executive to the parole board responsible for the release of offenders. In the other twenty jurisdictions field staff reports through an executive to a state department of corrections or similar agency. 18

REVOCATION Ordinarily, the agency vested with power to grant parole is also empowered to revoke it. In most jurisdictions the paroling authority must issue a warrant, or order, if it intends to take and detain a parolee who is suspected of having violated his parole. A few states permit arrest for parole violation without a warrant. The paroling authority has broad discretion in deciding whether cause exists to revoke parole.

DISCHARGE The time of absolute discharge from parole is determined by statute. The law regarding discharge of adult parolees follows several patterns : 1. Discharge shall occur only after sendee of the maximum term, that is, the difference between the time served in the institution and the maximum sentence. For example, Tom is sentenced to a l l A - to 15-year term. He serves eight years, is paroled. He has seven more years to do on parole. 2. The parole-granting agency may, in its discretion, fix a parole supervision term of less than the maximum sentence. Tom might be informed that if his behavior warrants he will be discharged for parole in, say, three years. 3. Discharge shall occur after service of the maximum sentence less good time allowance. Suppose, in Tom's case, that according to the law " Ibid., p. 70.

« Ibid., p. 70.

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of his state his fifteen-year maximum sentence means he can earn off five years good time. That would yield a "maximum less compensation" sentence of ten years. Assume he is paroled after serving eight years. If he remains in good standing, he will be discharged two years after coming under supervision. 4. At the discretion of the parole authority, discharge may occur any time prior to the maximum sentence, except that the parolee must remain under supervision for no less than six months, or a year, or as the particular statute may specify. Thus, Tom, under a 7 Vi - to 15-year sentence, is paroled after serving eight years. The state where he served his time has a statute providing a minimum supervision period of, say, a year. The parole board can place him under supervision for a year or longer. It cannot discharge him in less than one year. For juvenile offenders, the law permits the utmost flexibility. Discharge may come soon after release or it may not be granted until majority has been attained, practice even within the same parole supervision unit running the gamut in individual cases. In rare instances it is legally possible to retain juveniles and youthful offenders on parole past their majority. The parole authority may or may not issue a formal paper discharging an individual from parole. It makes no difference. Discharge occurs by law, when the time arrives. A paper would be a mere formality, and may be waived. Once a discharge has occurred, the parole authority no longer has any jurisdiction over the parolee.

HOW P A R O L E MIGHT WORK Now, as we did with probation, let us follow the parole process from beginning to end. James Carter was sentenced to state prison for a term of five to ten years for armed robbery. He is a first felony offender. In his state he is required to serve "minimum less compensation" ("good time") before becoming eligible for parole. Let us say he will be eligible in three-and-ahalf years. We will also assume a situation in which parole staff is stationed in the prison. The parole officer will give Carter certain information about his possible future release. He will do this shortly after the prisoner's admission. Carter will learn what parole is, what it expects, and what it offers. Later on, Carter will receive more detailed instruction on preparation to

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meet the parole board, how to locate a job offer, what the rules will be if he is released, and other matters. Now Carter is three months short of minimum eligibility. Again we hypothecate a reasonably effective level of operation. A parole officer goes into the field and prepares a preparole investigation report, consisting of a rounded social history of the inmate and including a home and employment program. The parole board meets in the prison, reads the report, and interviews Carter. It denies him parole, specifying it will see him again in six months. If he comes out at that time, he will have served four full years. At the stipulated time, a rehearing is held. This time Carter "makes" parole. He comes out owing six years. We will postulate he is in a state which automatically requires he serve the full balance on parole. Carter makes his arrival report within twenty-four hours after leaving prison, meets his parole officer, is instructed in the rules and regulations, that is, the conditions of his parole, and given to understand what he may and may not expect of the agency. Chances are he is at least as distrustful of the officer as a probationer would be of his. He reports regularly; the officer visits home, employment, wherever else is indicated. Carter gradually lets down his guard, learns to respect his parole officer, perhaps even to like him. (Another parolee might never develop this far, continuing to distrust and be evasive with the officer.) Carter spends six uneventful years on parole, is discharged from supervision. Should he commit a felony an hour after his parole period expired, he cannot be held to account for the earlier term. Let us say Carter is paroled after serving four years. He remains in good standing for a year, then absconds. The officer prepares a violation of parole report; the absconder is declared delinquent. His time stops running. He owes five years and will continue to owe it no matter when apprehended. He is picked up six years after declaration of delinquency and returned to prison owing five years. (The delinquency could, of course, have been canceled, in which case he would be restored to parole standing. This would ordinarily automatically discharge Carter from parole, for he would have restored to him, as if served in good standing, the time between the date of declaration of delinquency and date of cancellation.)

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Back in prison, Carter is assessed two years of penalty time by the parole board. That means he may be reparoled. But he misbehaves, and when he appears before the board once more, is held one more year. He serves the additional year and is accorded another hearing. He owed five years upon return as a violator. He has served three of the five. When the parole board reparoles him, he owes another two years. He concludes his parole period satisfactorily this time and is discharged. Carter came out in four years originally, served a year under supervision, then behaved in a manner to warrant the suspicion he was on the way to becoming a violator. An investigation is conducted. The suspicion is borne out. The officer prepares a violation report. The board decides to give Carter another chance. It continues him under supervision. He has lost no credit for time served to now. But suppose the board did declare him delinquent and ordered him back to prison. Then he comes in owing five years. The board may give him any or all of that time. Say Carter, on parole, is convicted of another felony. He might be in a state where the parole authority must cause him to serve all his unexpired time before beginning service of the second sentence. Having come out originally owing six years, no matter how long he remained in good standing, he now must serve six years in prison (less "good time") before beginning service of the second term. But if the board has discretion in the matter, it might assess him only a portion of the first sentence, then parole him to start serving the second. We will now consider the case of Mary, a juvenile, adjudged a delinquent when she ran away from home and was found to be sexually promiscuous. She is sent to a correctional school. We will act on the assumption that in her state she may be retained until she is twenty-one. She is sixteen upon admission. Procedures are informal here. The parole authority may consider Mary's release at any time. A year after her reception, she has changed

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so much and so favorably that the board, after a field investigation, paroles her. She is to live with her parents. She is told she will be on parole for two years, although the board if it chose could keep her under supervision for four years. Mary meets her parole officer, very likely a woman. She will perhaps become quite attached to the officer. Girls seem to relate to their parole officers more readily than boys at this age. On the other hand, if the officer lacks tact, warmth, or skill, Mary may develop strong dislike for her supervisor and, unlike an adult with more self-control, erupt angrily, abscond, or withhold important information. But if the officer is reasonably perceptive she can gain Mary's confidence. She will also understand that at that age, the girl is subject to certain hazards. It might be a sudden crush on a boy who can do her no good, a temper tantrum at home or in the office. The parole officer, without condoning foolish behavior, will make clear by her attitude that she will tolerate a certain amount of misconduct, if not too serious. She wants Mary to feel free to discuss her feelings and problems. Were the officer a martinet, forgiving no minor slip, the parolee would retreat into herself. Suppose Mary, with two years to do on parole, conducts herself only halfway satisfactorily. The parole authority has the power to return her to the institution or to extend her parole period, up to her majority. Should Mary do exceptionally well, the supervision period may be shortened. Let us assume that after a year on parole Mary is found to be cohabiting with a man, and withholding this information from the parole office. The board may return her to the correctional school and keep her as long as it deems necessary, up to but not exceeding her majority. Mary, on parole, is adjudged a delinquent again. After the juvenile court has acted on the new offense, the parole body may affix penalty time on the old adjudication. Or it may decline to do so, having discretion in the matter. Whatever happens, however many times Mary is adjudicated a delinquent, no matter how many parole periods she has served, when she reaches the age of twenty-one she will, by the laws of her state, be discharged finally from parole obligations.

6 Probation and Parole: Companion Services In this chapter we discuss probation and parole as companion services in the correctional field. And they are companion services, their similarities far outweighing their dissimilarities. But we want to understand such differences as do exist, just as we need to comprehend in what ways the two services are virtually the same. DIFFERENCES AND SIMILARITIES In what respects are probation and parole alike? In what respects are they different? Let us dispose of the second question first, for reasons that will become evident. The essential difference between the two programs is that the parolee has served part of his term in a correctional establishment and will do the balance or some part of it outside, while the probationer does all his time in the community, with no prior incarceration for the offense. Some practitioners suggest there is another difference. The parolee, they say, is likely to be more hardened and embittered than the probationer, hence less responsive to treatment. He has, after all, served time in an institution. This assertion appears misleading. Probationers and parolees are much alike in background and attitudes. Practically anything said about one group applies equally to the other. A great many juvenile and adult probationers have had a prior institutional experience. Moreover, we cannot hold that all correctional institutions invariably have a destructive effect upon every inmate. Further, it is conceivable

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that a probationer who was never in an institution may yet be as resistant to the authority of society as a parolee who has served a long term. F o r example, here is an excerpt from a tape recording of an interview by the author with a young man, then seventeen, a juvenile by the laws of his state. A member of a street gang, R o y was in constant trouble with the law. However, he never served a term in a correctional institution. H e did have a brief probation period, for driving while drunk, without a license, in a stolen car, in the course of which he ran into a dwelling, seriously injuring the occupant. Q : You've been to Juvenile Court, haven't you? A : Oh, yeah! A few times. The only thing I don't go for is Juvenile Court. I don't like that for the birds. You can't say anything to defend yourself. All they say is, this petition filed against you on such and such a day, it says you done such and such a thing. Well, we're gonna hold you for so long. Or, I'm gonna send you to the ref, or something. There's nobody to defend you, nothing like that. It just says you did it, you're gonna go away. For Chrissake! Them Juvenile Court judges, they don't know a goddamn thing, just want to get it over with. Bang! Just shove them poor kids in the can! Q : How about cops? A : Aw! They start giving you a bad time the minute they get that badge. Rookie cops, they just get on the force and they want to be sergeant right away. Yeah. There's a lot of cops that give you a rough time. They would haul you in for everything. Like if they see you with a can of beer, they don't say, "Well, as long as you're only drinking beer, well, go ahead." If I was a cop, I'd rather see a kid sitting around with a can of beer than I would with a marijuana cigarette, something like that. Cops! Q : Your friend Carl, his father is worth millions. How come he pals around with you guys? A : Because he's regular, he ain't chicken, he wants to be around decent guys, not some jerk that's gonna stay home and toast marshmallows. He knows we take to him. Q : Why do you take to him? A : What I mean, this Carl, where his father could buy him a whole new car if he wanted one, when he wants hub caps, he don't go out and buy them. He goes out and steals them, off some car parked at night. Q : The rest of you expect that of him? Is that what you mean? A : No. He expects it of himself. Because he wants to be like other fellows. It would be like Bing Crosby. He's got a name for being rich. He surely wouldn't run around in ragged dungarees, in a Model A. He'd live up to the name that he's got money. Q : Carl has money. Why doesn't he live up to his name by buying his hub caps instead of stealing them?

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A : Because he wants to live up to the gang, like you or me would. Q: Has everybody got a right to hold on to his own property? A: Sure, I think so. Q: Then why do some people steal that property? A : I don't know. I don't know what the hell they want to do that for. Q: But you've done it. A : Yeah. Q: Well? You know it's wrong but you do it. Why? A: Everybody else is gonna do it, you might as well do it, too. (Roy and his gang stood by as some teen-agers cut and stabbed a boy with razors and knives, tied him to a car bumper and rammed him into a stone fence, bashing in his skull and killing him.) Q : Do you think a gang is ever justified in killing a fellow? A: Oh, yeah! I do. Q : Under what circumstances? A : When a guy can't keep his mouth shut about something that's really dangerous. Q: I see. Any other time when it's O.K. to kill a guy? A: Yeah. I'd justify myself in killing a cop that got smart. Well, yeah! I might not get away with it, but I'd sure try like hell if he got smart. Q: Roy, you've been given advice by your folks on staying out of trouble. Mr. , down in the Juvenile Detail, has tried to help you. You don't have anything nice to say about him, and mighty little, for that matter, about your folks, except maybe your father. You don't like cops, you don't like judges. You didn't like your probation officer. Now, all these people wanted to see you stay out of trouble. You've got no use for them? A: It ain't that. All I want is they should keep their nose out. There ain't a one of them that knows what I want. Nobody can tell you what you want to do except yourself. I level with my Dad most of the time, because he don't tell me what to do. These cops and things, they been reading books about crime that was written by college professors. What the hell do them college professors know about us kids? This young man has demonstrated that he means what he says. He has committed rape, robbery, burglary, assault, and other offenses. Police believe he probably is guilty of at least one murder. He is inured to antisocial acts. He fulminates against law enforcement officers. Yet he has never been in a correctional institution. The point is that many probationers, although of course not all, are tough, antisocial in their attitudes. So are some, but not all parolees. Some probationers are tougher than some parolees, and vice versa. The differential may or may not be a prison or reformatory sentence. Whether he

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is a probationer or a parolee, each individual is conditioned by his particular experiences, his responses to stimuli within his environment. A probation caseload is not likely to be of markedly different character from a parole load. The service needs will be very much the same, as will the methods and skills for meeting those needs. For this reason it seems quite in keeping with facts to say that probation and parole services are far more alike than dissimilar. Consequently, the rationale of one is to all intents and purposes the rationale of the other. R A T I O N A L E O F PROBATION AND P A R O L E The basic assumption of probation and parole is that, with very few exceptions, persons in trouble with the law must someday be returned to a free society, for which reason the most promising correctional strategy is to help erstwhile offenders reintegrate themselves into the community successfully. Certain of them represent reasonably safe risks in society by the time they appear in court; it would not facilitate their adjustment to remove them to institutions, indeed their removal might well have the opposite effect. Meantime, the community would provide for their dependents. And the effect of such incarceration upon the prisoner's family would be incalculable. If, then, the community would not be seriously jeopardized by a defendant's presence, and if he gave evidence of ability to change to law-abiding ways, it would serve both society and the individual to give him a chance on probation, conditionally, under supervision and guidance. As for incarcerated offenders, consider this: certainly 95 percent of imprisoned adults must someday come out. Probably 99 percent of juvenile delinquents leave correctional institutions after a comparatively short stay. The tiny proportion of adult and juvenile prisoners who do not come out are those who die in the institution. All of the others will be released, either prior to or upon completion of their maximum sentences. Is it not, therefore, to our best interest to supervise those we legally can, for some period of time, during which they reaccustom themselves to life in a free society? If we accept the premise that all released prisoners ought to be under supervision for a period of time, the question remains, when should release take place? Assuming (for the sake of discussion) that the institution does bring about change for the better in the individual, there

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comes a time when the prisoner has profited as much as he ever will from incarceration. At that psychological moment, if we can capture it, we should parole him. To retain him further would be to countervail both the community's and the individual's welfare. There are sound social reasons, then, for the use of probation and parole. By returning men, women, and children to the free community at the appropriate and safe time, we make it possible for them to deal with their needs, problems, aspirations, and responsibilities in a social context, in interaction with others in a normative social environment. Obviously, reintegration into that environment calls for their being in that environment. They will not, to any appreciable degree, become resocialized to a normative environment while marking time in the abnormal environment of an institution. The aims of both probation and parole are to help erstwhile offenders find their way back into free society, where they may live more comfortably with themselves and others than was so before they were convicted or adjudicated. We want to furnish society, at the same time, protection against the potential recidivist. We have much to learn about human behavior, and a long way to go in using that knowledge efficiently, before probation and parole become the effective services we want them to be. There has been a dragging of feet, a reluctance to spend money, in most jurisdictions, but probation and parole are steadily, if slowly, improving, qualitatively and quantitatively.

SOCIAL WORK? LAW ENFORCEMENT? All right. Probation and parole are basically alike. Their rationale and objectives are the same. What are probation and parole? Social work? Law enforcement? Both? Neither? You can start a heated argument on this wherever correctional workers gather. Some practitioners say probation and parole are social work services, heavily oriented to casework, and that they are by no means to be equated with law enforcement. 1 Others would as vehemently vouchsafe 1 We shall be discussing social casework later on, but so we may have the same point of reference, let us for the present use this definition, to be found in Helen Harris Perlman, Social Casework, A Problem-solving Process (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1957), p. 4: "Social casework is a process used by certain human welfare agencies to help individuals to cope more effectively with their problems in social functioning."

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that these are law enforcement functions exclusively and social workers should be kept away with an eleven-foot pole. Another segment of opinion maintains that probation and parole are social work and law enforcement, one coming into play when the other is no longer effective. And still another group would declare, "A plague o' all your houses! We're not social workers and we aren't policemen. We are a highly specialized and unique practice, different from any other concerned with human relations." Then, too, there are those who insist this is a service calling for no specialization whatever. Probation and parole are unrelated to any discipline or practice that relies upon the scientific approach, according to proponents of this viewpoint. They are just plain common sense with no frills attached. The less science and "red tape," the better. Anyone with a good heart, or a big stick, depending upon the speaker, can do probation and parole work. Where lies reality? In terms of actual practice, everywhere. Somewhere, in some jurisdiction, we find each point of view translated into practice. But what can we reasonably assert probation and parole ought to be? The author expresses his personal opinion here, reminding the reader that many responsible correctional workers would not share his views. Probation and parole should be regarded as social work, and staff should be selected on that assumption. We say social work, not exclusively casework. Social work encompasses the several fields of group work, casework, and community organization. Casework plays the greatest part in treatment in correctional settings, but group work has come into use of recent years, and community welfare organization is also within the function of the correctional worker on occasion. Like all social work, probation and parole adapt generic principles to their specific objectives and functions. A public assistance agency is a social work organization, but some of its approaches and emphases differ from those in a private family service agency, which also practices social work. A community center is a social group work agency, but some of its operations are unlike those found in a settlement house, another social group work setting. Probation and parole make their adaptations, utilizing whatever is of value anywhere in all of the subfields of social work. With regard to the law-enforcement vs. social work argument, it seems to this writer that in correctional work we need make no choice. We

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require both. We cannot divorce ourselves from the enforcement function. and it ill behooves us to derogate it. Courts and parole boards are charged with selecting for treatment only those calculated to be reasonably safe risks. Probation and parole officers take an oath of office as peace officers. The legislative intent is obvious here. Officers are enjoined to protect the community. Keve points out: Conscientious corrections workers have always asked themselves anxiously whether their duty lies more with treatment or with surveillance, or even whether surveillance is a worthy activity for the officer. If the answer to that can be put in simple terms it would be that it is always a better use of a skilled officer's time and is in the long run a better protection to the community for the officer to be engaged in treatment. However, the officer is not compromising bis professional stature at all when his diagnostic skill indicates that a certain case is not now treatable by the ordinary means available and that straight surveillance is necessary. With the few such cases there are in each caseload the worker should not feel demeaned in handling them realistically but should be satisfied that his diagnostic skill enabled him to label them reliably, and that his flexibility enables him to work with them optimistically on the chance that after all his diagnosis might have been wrong. Furthermore, in the hands of an imaginative worker surveillance can become a process of building into the client a greater sense of responsibility. 2

The present writer disagrees with those who asseverate that probation and parole are neither law enforcement nor social work, but something unique.3 He rejects the proposition that probation and parole require no more than common sense, while cheerfully agreeing that common sense is one ingredient essential to practically any undertaking. It tells me my plumbing leaks. But it takes a plumber's skill and common sense to fix it. The human being is infinitely more complex than a water faucet. He requires a highly specialized and expertly trained practitioner to help him with his multifarious personal problems. That person must have common sense. But common sense without method and skill in helping can work to the detriment of the individual seeking help. This, then, is the bias of the author, a bias to be found throughout the volume. The author's thesis is: Probation and parole work is social work, with law enforcement and other adaptations. It has borrowed much from 2 Paul W. Keve, Imaginative Programming in Probation and Parole (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1967), pp. 9-10. 3 For interesting discussion on this, see T. C. Esselstyn, "Trends in Social Work Toward Corrections," Federal Probation, Vol. XXI (June 1957), pp. 30-33; and Ben S. Meeker, "Social Work and the Correctional Field," Federal Probation, Vol. XXI (September 1957), pp. 32^12.

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the generic social work field. It has done some lending, too. Caseworkers have learned a great deal from probation and parole concerning the constructive meaning and use of authority, to cite one illustration. It will be a long time before the field is staffed completely or almost completely by trained social workers. Meantime, acceptable compromises must be made. Many workers trained in the humanities, psychology, sociology, and other disciplines are performing effectively. There is no attempt to assert that only the trained social worker has made a contribution to the field. Rather, the argument is that, in recruiting from among thousands of candidates, the agency does best when it strikes out for professional social workers. It will thereby gain a small proportion who, by temperament, are unfit for the work, despite education in it. And it will lose a few who, though not educated in social work, would make splendid officers. But all in all, recruitment methods being crude at best, setting the standard of social work background should yield optimum results.

T H E T W O F O L D FUNCTION From what has been said, it should be clear that probation and parole officers have a twofold function. The Federal Probation Officers Association has endorsed a statement on professional standards which includes this assertion: "The primary objective of probation and parole is the protection of society through the rehabilitation of the offender." 4 Here is the end result of the twofold function. The probation and parole officer is charged with a double responsibility: protecting society and aiding the offender. But there is no dichotomy here. In the community protection role, these services have two obligations: to offer freedom and aid only to those not likely to assault society again; and to supervise them while treating them. Not every offender is fit for unrestricted liberty. Therefore the court or parole board thinks first of community protection in those cases; it will not turn an offender back to the community when he is definitely an unsafe risk. It will treat those it does release, but be constantly on guard against potential recidivists. But—and this is why social work treatment and law enforcement functions are not discrete elements—it will be noted we strive to help 4 "Professional Standards Endorsed By The Federal Probation Officers Association," Federal Probation, Vol. XXI (March 1957), pp. 48-50.

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bring about social readjustment of offenders while remaining alert to signs of reversion to crime or delinquency. We protect society at the same time that we treat the offender. If we must choose at a given moment, we will accomplish the first by removing someone from the community. But fundamentally, the best community protection lies in so helping those who have offended that they no longer want to offend and no longer violate the law. Here, the twofold function brings one end result. In the sense of the Federal Probation Officers Association statement, protection of society is achieved through the rehabilitation of offenders. Probation and parole, then, are social work services, in public agencies for the most part, that seek to select effectively from among offenders those who shall be offered the opportunities inherent in the programs. Practitioners of these services want to aid men and women, girls and boys, who need help in stabilizing themselves. They also try to assist and protect society and the probationer or parolee by bringing the two into mutual accommodation. What, finally, are probation and parole? They are services designed to benefit society and the individual who is maladjusted in society. They are social work and law enforcement, not mutually exclusive and acting unilaterally, but cooperating and intertwined throughout. If we agree that in most respects probation and parole are alike, we can from here on discuss them together. We shall do so next in relation to investigation work in probation and parole agencies.

7 Selection in Probation and Parole The first step in the probation or parole process is selection. It is a crucial matter. Poor selection can render supervision and treatment ineffective and jeopardize the community as well. Human nature being what it is, the mind fallible, and our ability to forecast behavior limited, there will always be some errors of judgment. We cannot predict recidivism with complete efficiency. But we can apply the soundest methods known.

INTAKE In a casework agency, when an applicant comes voluntarily for some service, he is usually first seen by an intake worker, who interviews him to determine as quickly as possible whether this is the agency that can best meet his needs. In a very real sense, selection for probation and parole is intake, too. The judge and parole authority are in the position of intake workers. Upon their evaluations will depend the nature and quality of caseloads. They will select the best and the better risks for treatment in the free community. Note the reference to "better risks." Every judge, every parole board member, has taken a chance now and then on what he considers a somewhat dubious risk. We do not place on probation and parole only the very best risks, those who we believe will, without any question, make successful adjustments. If we followed that practice there would be little need for trained probation and parole officers. Persons under care would require practically no help from them. Assuming we can select

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no-risk cases with perfect efficiency (which we cannot), we might well return them to society without specifying a period of supervision, since they should be able to make satisfactory adjustments on their own. We do release "best" risks, of course, but additionally we return to the community a proportion of individuals who, in the judgment of the releasing authority, will probably make successful adjustments if they receive help from treatment personnel. Regarding the latter group, if the policies of the "intake" agencies are sound, those bodies will choose individuals who are likely to benefit from treatment. The more refined the selective processes, the less probation and parole officers will have to engage in law enforcement activities. Judge and parole authority, then, are strategic factors in the total social work program.

PROBATION SELECTION It is a judge who, in the first instance, undertakes to make a diagnostic study of the offender before him. He will be aided in this by a probation investigation report. He asks himself, "What is the best treatment, in the interest of society and the offender? Shall this defendant be incarcerated or placed on probation?" He operates on the theory that probation is not for all offenders, but only for certain of them, although, as we have seen, they will not all represent "best" risks. Ideally, selection is based upon individualization of offenders. There are no blanket rules by which one can be guided. Some older men are better risks than adolescents, and vice versa. Some repeaters may have reached that psychological milepost which marks an inclination to become law-abiding, whereas a particular first offender may be a very poor risk in this regard. One gunman may be a hazard while another is deserving of a chance on probation. Some judges have suggested that at least with juveniles the bench follow five mandates basic to the disposition of delinquency cases: 1. Individualize the child. 2. Have an awareness of how the child views himself. 3. Weigh the past in terms of the future. 4. Do not tie your hands with clichés like, "Probation is for first offenders only," or, "Only one chance on probation."

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5. Determine the type and quality of treatment services available and select what is needed. 1 All five mandates are actually encompassed in the first. The judge knows that, if maximum efficiency is to be achieved, each case will have to be studied individually. Here, the probation department can be most helpful. The better its investigation reports, the more useful they can be to the conscientious jurist. The probation report serves a number of purposes. It helps the court arrive at appropriate adjudications. Where the defendant is placed on probation, the report is a starting point for treatment under supervision by a probation officer. Should the offender be incarcerated, the investigation material serves as background for classifying the inmate and planning his custody and treatment. Presumably, too, the report will be utilized by the parole board when the prisoner is eligible for release, part of it being incorporated in the preparole investigation. It will be useful to the institutional parole officer in planning for the inmate's release. The judge studies the report and asks himself: 1. Is the offender dangerous at the present time? 2. Will incarceration help or harm him? 3. Is probation an acceptable, constructive substitute for institutionalization in this particular case? 4. Is the individual concerned mentally and emotionally capable of benefiting from probation treatment? 5. Is his attitude toward society and probation such as to justify the use of probation in lieu of incarceration? 6. Will society, in the long run, benefit if the defendant is placed on probation? Will the individual? 7. Will granting probation at this time be construed by the offender as leniency, or as "beating the rap," and thus be deleterious rather than helpful? How can a probation report answer such questions? By going into depth as much as possible. By presenting rounded, full pictures of individuals. By showing as realistically as possible what the defendant is like, how he got that way, where he thinks he is going, and how he interacts in his environment to satisfy his objectives. ι Guides for Juvenile Court Judges, prepared by the Advisory Council of Judge* of the National Probation and Parole Association, in cooperation with the National Council of Juvenile Court Judges (New York: National Probation an J Parole Association. 1957), paraphrased from pp. 7fr-82.

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No outline or instructions will guarantee that sort of report. Its quality will depend upon the skill, imagination, understanding, and intelligence of the officer who prepares it. It will cover at least these pertinent areas: 1. Details of the present offense. Where and when was it committed? Under what circumstances? What was the modus operandii? If more than one person participated, who planned it? Who was the leader? What part did this defendant play? Was he armed? Sober? Seemingly sane at the time? Compulsive? Hysterical? Calm? Why, you may ask, is all this necessary? Do not these facts come out in court? Not necessarily. Where a juvenile is concerned there is, of course, no formal trial. With an adult, there will be none if the defendants plead guilty. And when a trial is conducted, not all the facts are introduced in evidence. Yet those omitted may be extremely valuable as diagnostic material. Consider these two cases: A cab driver found a wallet, left in the vehicle by a fare. It contained almost a thousand dollars. The driver was in financial straits due to the fact his wife had had a series of costly operations. Tempted, he kept the wallet instead of turning it in. Eventually, he was arrested and convicted. A woman of means was found to have stolen expensive jewelry and other items from guests in her own home. The cold record showed she was subsequently charged with grand larceny. But she was a compulsive thief, a "kleptomaniac." Her closets were crammed with odds and ends, some valueless, all purloined.

Was there not a great difference in treatment needs, between one case and the other? Other questions regarding an offense which belong in a report: Did the offender admit his guilt upon arrest? What is his present attitude toward his participation in the offense? Does he show remorse, anger, ill will? What seem to be his feelings toward the victim? Toward the police? How much loss or personal injury resulted from the offense? 2. Previous criminal or delinquency

history. H o w extensive is it? W h a t

may it signify? Does it show a characteristic pattern of offense? Does the record suggest we are dealing with an amateur, a compulsive, or a professional offender? 3. Codefendants. Were there any? What was the role of each? What disposition, if any, was made in each case? 4. Attitude of the complainant. The court will want to consider the complainant's attitude, particularly in instances where he has been

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physically injured or has lost a considerable amount of property to the offender. The judge will not necessarily act according to the wishes of the injured person, yet he will want to have that individual's attitude defined in the report. 5. Personal history. Meat and bone of the probation report is the social history of the offender—his birth, developmental history where significant, health, education, employment record, personal habits, character, personality, associates, recreation, marital life, mental condition, intellectual status, interrelationships. How did he interact within his family as a child? As an adult? How did he get along with people generally? What unusual illnesses, trauma, accidents, or other events may have conditioned him? In what ways? Every meaningful item the probation officer discovers goes toward the production of the report, so that the subject may emerge as an understandable human being. 6. Family history and relationships. The family is the offender's primary group, and the one which was probably most influential in his socialization. The court needs data on the parents, siblings, wife, children, and paramours of the defendant. Who are they? How old? What sort of personality does each possess? What was the impact of that person upon the offender? What are the attitudes of these people toward the defendant at this time? 7. Community conditions. From what sort of environment does the offender come? How do members of the community feel toward him at this time? Is there great hostility in the area for the defendant? Sympathy? Indifference? Is it likely, were he returned to the community at once, that he would be received without animus? 8. Probation program. Should the court wish to invoke probation, where would the defendant live? Where would he work? Under what conditions? Has the offender himself done anything toward setting up this prospective program? There has been much give and take on whether presentence reports should be confidential documents and consequently not available to press and public. There is less debate concerning prehearing reports, the consensus seeming to be that the spirit of juvenile court law and proceedings argues for confidentiality.

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The Standard Probation and Parole Act, sponsored by the National Council on Crime and Delinquency, provides that the presentence investigation report is privileged information and shall not be disclosed except at the discretion of the judge. A report made to the National Council recommends that statutes be drafted on the subject, and that they "should provide safeguards against improper disclosure of information in the presentence report. . . . " 2 What is improper disclosure? This is where the bulk of the debate centers. Some correctional administrators would open reports to the press, but this point of view is in the minority. There is, however, fairly general agreement that, on occasion, selected items in a report might be paraphrased for reporters. Should the report be shown to the defendant, in adult cases? To the juvenile, in juvenile cases? If not, has due process been accorded the individual concerned? Availability of the contents of a report would give the defendant or juvenile a chance, through counsel, to rebut damaging allegations. There is much difference of opinion concerning this. Where statutes on the subject exist, they also reflect differing viewpoints. Disclosure in adult cases is generally considered a matter to be left to the discretion of the court. In almost all of the states, and in the federal court system, statutes or rules either expressly give the trial judge the power to disclose data from the presentence report or their silence is interpreted as permitting disclosure. In a few jurisdictions, disclosure is mandatory. Nowhere is it expressly forbidden. The actual practice of disclosure varies from jurisdiction to jurisdiction, and also among the judges of a single court. Disclosure of the contents of reports referring to juveniles is widely disapproved and most juvenile court judges refuse to divulge information from such reports, even to counsel.3 The President's Commission summarizes the pros and cons on the subject of disclosure of the contents of presentence reports, as these are advanced in the field. The principal argument for granting a defendant or his counsel a right to inspect the report is that without such availability the defense cannot fully participate in the sentencing process. 2 Professional Council Committee on Standards for Adult Probation, Standards and Guides for Adult Probation (New York: National Council on Crime and Delinquency, 1962), p. 8. Mimeograph. 3 It remains to be seen what effect the 1967 Supreme Court ruling in the Gault case (discussed in a later chapter) will have upon juvenile court practice in connection with this matter.

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Therefore, "fundamental fairness requires that the accused be given a reasonable opportunity to challenge the accuracy of facts or the reliability of opinions on which the judge will base his sentencing decision." 4 Mr. Justice William O. Douglas has spoken to this point: Fairness would, in my opinion, require that the defendant be advised of the facts—perhaps very damaging to him—on which the judge intends to rely. The presentence report may be inaccurate, a flaw which may be of constitutional dimension. . . . It may exaggerate the gravity of the defendant's prior offenses. The investigator may have made an incomplete investigation. There may be countervailing factors not disclosed by the probation report. In many areas we can rely on the sound exercise of discretion by the trial judge; but how can a judge know whether or not the presentence report calls for a reply by the defendant? Its faults may not appear on the face of the document. 6

According to the President's Commission, three principal arguments are offered against disclosure of the report's contents to the defendant or his counsel. The first is that such disclosure would tend to dry up sources of information. "Members of the defendant's family and other informants would hesitate to be candid if they knew that the information they gave could be traced back to them by the defendant, and agencies which supplied information only on a confidential basis would close their files to the probation officers." A second argument is that disclosure would cause unreasonable delay. "Defendants could be expected to challenge everything in the report, and the resulting complexity of litigation might cause courts to dispense with presentence reports altogether." Finally, disclosure of certain portions of a report would be harmful to rehabilitative efforts, especially in instances where psychiatric evaluations are included and unfavorable comments are entered into the record by the probation officer who might be assigned to supervise the defendant.® Speaking for itself, the President's Commission comments: While these considerations indicate some limitations on the extent to which the report should be disclosed, a sound general rule would give the defendant or his attorney the right to examine the report, but it would also permit the court to withhold particular information when good cause is shown. . . . Another accommodation of the competing interests might be to permit the court to withhold factual statements when there are reasons for nondisclosure that outweigh the defendant's interest in ensuring the accuracy of important 4 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: The Courts (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 20. » 383 U. S. 1087, 1092-93 (1966). «Ibid., p. 20.

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information in the report. Such occasion may arise when disclosure of a statement would be harmful to rehabilitation or when disclosure of a factual statement is tantamount to disclosure of its source, and the identity of the source should be withheld.7 Where juvenile court cases are concerned, current arguments against disclosure might be summed up as follows: The juvenile court hearing is not an adversary proceeding, as is a criminal trial. In a hearing, the state does not proceed against the juvenile; rather, it intercedes in the juvenile's best interests; hence due process provisions do not apply, as they would in a criminal matter. To reveal intimate details about a juvenile or his family might harm him or them in the community. Moreover, if certain kinds of information, such as psychiatric evaluations, were available to the juvenile and his parents, they could cause serious misunderstanding based upon misinterpretation, and they could produce emotional disturbance and other harmful effects on the juvenile, his parents, or both. On the other side of the debate is a growing sentiment which holds that under present juvenile court procedures, with their emphasis upon strict confidentiality, the youngster may not even be fully aware why he has been brought into court, what is alleged against him, or by whom. He has no opportunity to question what purports to be evidence in the report, since he may not know about it. He cannot cross-examine those who may have made erroneous, misleading, or untruthful statements. Therefore, through counsel, he should have a right to inspect the report dealing with his case. PAROLE SELECTION In carrying out the intake policy of parole, the releasing authority is the counterpart of the judge who makes the selection in the probation process. The parole body asks itself much the same questions as would a jurist: 1. Is the inmate a fit risk for parole? 2. Will he be able to benefit from treatment, or is he likely to recidivate? 3. Does he have a favorable attitude toward society, so far as can be determined? 4. Does he want parole? τ ¡bid., p. 20.

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5. If the board grants parole will the prisoner agree to abide by rules and regulations? In arriving at answers to these and other questions bearing on the question of possible release, parole boards use four aids, singly or in combination: the preparole investigation; institutional reports; the personal interview with the inmate; and prediction tables. No jurisdiction uses prediction tables exclusively; some do not have a preparole investigation made in the field; while others dispense with the personal interview. All four aids, however, when employed, may be considered parts of the investigation process in parole. A good preparole report, based upon field investigation, would appear to be an essential, whether or not other aids are utilized. This case history is much like a probation investigation in subject matter. Some possible differences are: Many parole authorities seek to determine the attitude of the sentencing or adjudicating judge toward release. The district attorney may also be consulted when adult offenders are involved. Often his comment is well worth considering; sometimes it is so perfunctory as to be useless. One district attorney for years made an identical recommendation in every case: "I am opposed to parole in the premises." His signature, appropriately, was by rubber stamp. Particularly if the inmate would, if released, return to a small community where anonymity is impossible, parole authorities attempt to gauge public sentiment toward the prospective parolee. This is in the interest of both community and inmate. If the ex-prisoner returns to a community which meets him with hostility, he may aggress against it again, to the detriment both of the parolee and of his victims. It might, in such a prospect, be more practical to allow the inmate to make a more hopeful start in another area. 8 In both probation and parole, the person under consideration is usually expected to have a satisfactory home and employment program if he is an adult, and at least a home if he is a juvenile. But the prisoner has had a greater separation from home than the defendant or juvenile being considered for probation. Is there still a family interested in re8 In considering probation for a defendant, we have seen, the judge is also interested in gauging community feeling. But he frequently does not have to make close inquiry. Members of the community and representative groups often express their views without solicitation, to him and in the press.

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ceiving the inmate? If not, can he safely be housed in a residence club? A furnished room? Is a change of locale proposed by the prisoner? Does this mean that an urbanité would be transplanted to rural territory or vice versa? If so, what is the outlook? As to employment, the inmate's work in the institution has not been under the competitive conditions he will encounter on the outside. He may have lost his speed, skills, or both. The preparole investigation will pay attention to these matters in reporting parole program. Is the job offer bonafide? Is the work of a sort the inmate can perform? Does it offer adequate income? Under the same conditions as those applied to nonparolees? Indications are that a stable home environment is of the utmost value in giving a parolee a start back to responsible living in free society, for which reason parole boards pay a great deal of attention to this factor. They are, in general, reluctant to parole an inmate to a home situation that would be unsettling. The inmate under consideration for parole has had an institutional experience. Therefore, institution reports are a source of evaluative data. Good physical, psychometric, and psychiatric reports are of great value, where available. Unfortunately, one of the glaring deficiencies of our correctional institutions is the paucity of medical, psychological, and psychiatric service, particularly the last. Other institutional reports can answer such questions as : How has the inmate made use of his time? Has he studied? Learned a trade? Been industrious? Ambitious? Is he better prepared to earn a living? How has he used leisure time? With what sort of inmate did he customarily associate, by choice? Was he a leader or a follower? Generally outgoing or reserved? Did he show a social sense in matters requiring group cooperation? Not many institutions go as deeply into these matters as is desirable. Where they do, the results are extremely valuable to paroling bodies. There are still other data that can, in most instances, be furnished by institutions: With whom did the inmate correspond? Who visited him? These often constitute leads to the ties the inmate has retained, the people with whom he will make contact upon release. Perhaps the most germane question is: What is the inmate's present attitude toward society, crime (or delinquency), his relations to others, his obligations to his fellow men? The mental attitude of the prisoner is of vital concern to the releasing body. Unfortunately, the busy warden

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or superintendent is likely to characterize the inmate's attitude as satisfactory if he has not been outstandingly rebellious. The psychiatrist (if any) may report on the basis of one interview, which probably took place upon reception of the inmate. The chaplain is perhaps favorably impressed if the prisoner, sincerely or shrewdly, attended religious services. Custodial officers possibly consider the truckling inmate an individual with a highly satisfactory attitude. And so on. An example of what may occur when information concerning attitudes is erroneous or unavailable is furnished in the case of Jeb, a hunchbacked, bowlegged dwarf who lived in a rural area on a scrabbly farm which produced mostly rocks. An untutored and rather slow-witted man, he was kindly and respectable, got into no trouble with the law, and was highly regarded by his neighbors. Jeb was married to a woman of normal stature. The couple had four children, all hunchbacked, bowlegged dwarfs. The family was a sort of local institution. On Saturdays, Jeb would put his brood in a wagon and drive to town to purchase the coming week's supplies in the general store. Farmers in town on the same mission were accustomed to seeing him and his family on the sidewalk, eating ice cream cones. He and the children sat on the curb, their feet in the gutter. Mama stood behind them, licking on her cone. She became pregnant again, and for some reason Jeb developed the suspicion that this was by another man. Insofar as such matters can ever be determined beyond peradventure, he seems to have been quite wrong, but he believed he was correct in his assumption, and that was what mattered. He told his wife, "Molly, if that kid's born with straight legs, I'm going to kill you." It was born with straight legs, and Jeb did try to kill Molly, but since she was stronger than he was, he only managed to fracture her skull with a spade. He went to prison on a six-to-ten-year sentence. He was a model prisoner, and the superintendent thought well of him. A psychiatrist interviewed him one time, and pronounced him sane. The chaplain had a high regard for Jeb, whom he saw at services every Sunday. Custodial officers treated Jeb almost as a mascot, being faintly amused by his grotesque appearance and very pleased by his compliant behavior. He served almost five years before becoming eligible for parole. In that time did anyone in that institution inquire into his frame of mind? Did anyone ask if he still harbored ill-feeling against his wife? Whether he still intended to do her harm? Did anyone explain to him that it was quite possible for a dwarf, married to a woman of normal stature, to sire a child that was not deformed, that in fact, according to the Mendelian ratio, the fifth child might well be expected to be of normal stature? No. Every employee in that institution was too busy running the prison to be concerned about Jeb's mental attitude. The appropriate officials submitted favorable reports

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to the parole board, emphasizing what a conforming and therefore fine inmate he had been. The parole board did not do much probing on its own to determine Jeb's real frame of mind at the time he appeared before it. He was released, after serving a little over five years, and this time he finished the job. He killed Molly and was returned to prison with a life sentence. If individual reports from institutions be adequate, they too often suffer from lack of integration. Inmates become segmented. The dentist knows John Doe as a set of teeth; the doctor, as a liver and spleen he once probed; the psychologist, as an I.Q.; the vocational director, as an automaton who oils machines; and the disciplinarian, as the person who stole a bun from the kitchen. In many institutions little attempt is made to put teeth, liver, spleen, mind, vocation, and morals together and make of them John Doe, human being. The inadequacies implicit in such segmentation of the individual is suggested by the following case: Morris, at 19, was sentenced to an industrial institution of the reformatory type. When he appeared before the parole board it noted, from institutional reports, that : He had an unusually good community history, having been arrested (and acquitted) only once before the present offense. He was of average intelligence and seemingly of sound mind. (There was no psychiatrist practicing in the institution.) He had had three years of high school, and was presumed to be skilled in mechanics. He was assigned to the reformatory's machine shop for training. His conduct in the institution had been atrocious. In the one year he spent in custody he had been reported no fewer than forty times for misconduct. The record revealed, with shocking regularity, punishment for insolence to officers and refusal to work. The parole board reading the case file realized that despite the many favorable indicators, Morris could not be paroled, for to do so would create a discipline problem in the institution. If he "got away with it," other inmates would be the more ready to flout regulations. Considering this important administrative matter, the board member interviewing Morris flipped a page in the file and came upon the physician's report. It showed but one examination, made upon reception of the inmate. It noted that Morris had a serious orthopedic condition which made standing even for ten minutes at a stretch excruciating. The physician recommended immediate surgery. But his report got filed along with all the others prepared at the point of Morris's reception, and nothing was done to carry out the recommendation.

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Nobody related the medical report to any of the subsequent institutional history of the prisoner. It was reasonable to assume that at least part of Morris's insolence to officers and refusal to work stemmed from an irascibility born of pain induced by standing before a machine four hours at a time. The parole board called the doctor's report to the attention of the superintendent. Morris received surgical treatment. His conduct became exemplary, so that he could be paroled six months after emerging from the hospital. In contrast to such lack of institutional integration is the situation in Wallkill State Prison, New York, where a Service Unit, cooperatively operated by the institution and the state's parole board, maintains a central file on each prisoner. Every employee, be he custodial or treatment focused, records every contact with, or observation of, any inmate, in the one file, in chronological sequence. In this file, then, can be found results of medical examinations, chaplain's reports, progress statements by the educational and vocational directors, observations of guards concerning yard behavior and associates of the inmate, reports of other custodial officers on the inmate's demeanor in the visiting room—everything that happens to a prisoner is there if it was observed. These data are not filed and forgotten. Members of the Service Unit review them regularly. If an inmate is not showing interest or progress in a vocational training assignment, he is interviewed to determine why. Does he want a change of assignment? Can he think of a more suitable vocation for himself? If the prisoner has been losing time for misconduct, the Service Unit wants to know the underlying reasons. From the warden to the guard, the door is open to prisoners who wish to discuss their problems. By the time an inmate is eligible for parole, the Service Unit staff is able to present a picture of him as a personality to the parole board. California has developed a thoroughgoing program for evaluating prisoners. Upon admission, inmates are held in a reception center, where they are put through extensive examination, testing, and interviewing. The center's records follow the inmate to the institution where he will serve his time. Here, cumulative records are kept, progress (or lack of it) watched, and appropriate changes made in the prisoner's program where this is indicated.

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Having discussed preparole investigations and institutional reports, we turn now to personal interviews as an aid in selection for parole. To the experienced, intelligent board member with simpatico and sufficient objectivity, the personal interview can reveal much, provided certain hazards are taken into account. The inmate's reactions before a parole board supplement the impressions gained from the written reports. On paper, a prisoner may seem an excellent risk, while in person he dispels that impression. Or vice versa. Which shall we believe? The inmate may create a better impression than is warranted. He may deliberately strive to create an unrealistic view of himself. The hearing will decide his fate. He would be less than human if he did not sometimes attempt to delude the men who sit in judgment. Some prisoners appear contrite, even truckling, when in fact they feel little contrition and are inwardly truculent. They castigate themselves, maintaining, "I've got no one to blame but myself." They weep. If more astute, they may put on a convincing display of self-respect and inner strength, fighting back the tears and asking for no quarter. Often these displays, both lachrymose and reserved, are genuine. Often they are not. The hazard lies in selecting one interpretation or the other. Then, too, the inmate may create a worse impression than is justified. He comes in, tense, nervous, excited. As a result, he may be so taciturn as to lead to the inference that he is withholding his true feelings. On the other hand, tension may provoke an explosion in which he angrily berates his listeners, says things he scarcely means. Many inmates vehemently declare they care not a continental whether they be paroled or not, when every indication is that, in their more relaxed and lucid moments, they would fervently ask for the opportunity to start life anew on the outside. A serious shortcoming connected with the personal appearance is the necessary brevity of interviews. It conditions both prisoner and board member. It is impossible, in five, ten, or fifteen minutes, to cover the ground that ought to be covered. The inmate feels frustrated because he cannot take time to relax to the point where he can say what he wants and mean what he says. The board member must get to the next case. In his hurry, he will frequently not allow himself the time he knows he needs if he is to examine all relevant facets of the case.

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N o doubt a personal interview can be an aid in parole selection. But it must be conducted with an understanding of what can and cannot be expected under the conditions that prevail. Some boards allow themselves a fairly relaxed interviewing setting, others do not. Interviewing is a process which requires great skill, subtlety, and understanding. Given exceptionally experienced and knowledgeable interviewers, some of the negative physical features of the board hearing can be obviated or mitigated. But optimum results will not be achieved, certainly, until parole boards are able to schedule themselves so that they do not have to hear an impossible number of cases in one sitting. The fourth aid to parole selection is prediction of future behavior of inmates, through the use of actuarial tables designed for the purpose. This subject is discussed in the next chapter. Here let us only say that, like the actuarial tables employed by insurance companies, parole prediction scales are designed to determine the element of risk involved in a given situation. The Ufe insurance company measures, by highly refined criteria, what the statistical chances are that a given individual, who has applied for a policy, will have paid into the company more than what the company will pay out upon his eventual demise. The annual cost of the policy will be calculated on that basis. A parole prediction table is designed to establish what the statistical chances are that an inmate, if released, would violate his parole. Few parole systems use prediction tables. Those that do employ them only in combination with other aids, such as preparole reports, institutional data, and personal interviews with inmates. Probation systems, for whatever reasons, have made little use of prediction tables, although if they are useful in one service they should be useful in the other.

E X A M P L E S OF I N V E S T I G A T I O N

REPORTS

Below are examples of investigation reports. Names and certain other identifying information have been changed. The Jack Garvin report deals with a juvenile who is about to make an appearance in juvenile court. The Robert Amander investigation is a probation presentence report on an adult who has been convicted on criminal charges after trial before a judge, acting without a jury. The Harry Roberts case represents a preparole report on an adult serving a state prison sentence.

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I SUPERIOR COURT OF T H E STATE O F FOR THE COUNTY O F JUVENILE COURT. PROBATION OFFICER'S REPORT Appearance Date: 1-27-67. In the Matter of : Jack Garvin a minor Age: 13 years Birthdate: 11-19-53 Whereabouts of Minor: Jack Garvin resides with his maternal uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. James Murphy, at 25 Vista Street, Pottsville, The minor's mother, Dorothy Murphy Troy, lives at 500 Green Street, Pottsville, The whereabouts of minor's natural father, Harry Garvin, are unknown. Reasons for Hearing: The minor is subject of a petition filed at the request of the Pottsville Police Department on January 13, 1967, alleging that the minor comes within the provisions of Section 207 of the Juvenile Court Law in that on or about December 3, 1966, at approximately 4 A.M., he willfully and unlawfully entered a garage, located at 21 Central Avenue, Pottsville, with intent to commit the crime of theft, and stole therefrom one motorcycle and one minibike, thereby violating Section 904 of the Penal Code (burglary). Further, said minor, on December 14, 1966, at approximately 4:15 P.M., in the area of Twelfth and Broadway in the city of Pottsville, feloniously participated in the taking from the person of Belinda Oakes, against her will and by means of force, personal property, to wit: a purse and contents; thereby violating Section 100 of the Penal Code (robbery). Minor's Statement: Minor fully admits the allegations of the petition. With reference to his participation in the burglary of the garage, he states the idea was first suggested by his companion, Arthur Norwell, who was with him when the offense was committed. Norwell knew that a Mr. Joseph Glenn owned a motorcycle which was in need of repair and which he wanted to sell. According to Garvin, he and Norwell spoke with Mr. Glenn, offering to buy the motorcycle. The price was too high, however, and the deal was not consummated. According to the minor, Arthur Norwell subsequently told him he knew where Mr. Glenn garaged the vehicle, and suggested they steal it. Jack acquiesced, and the two boys thereupon entered the victim's garage, which was unlocked, and took the motorcycle. Finding a minibike there as well, they also took it. Minor states he is not a close friend of Norwell, but that they both happened to be together at that hour of the morning because both boys deliver

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newspapers. Minor admits he knew that what they were doing was wrong, but asserts the suggestion did not originate with him, but with Norwell. Minor says he felt "bad inside" when stealing the vehicles, knowing "we'd get caught." Both boys were subsequently questioned by police. They admitted the burglary. A report was filed requesting a petition on their behalf. It is interesting that at the time the boys were interrogated, Norwell claimed it was Garvin, not he, who suggested the burglary expedition. Eleven days after the above related incident, and while the minor was awaiting his appearance in Juvenile Court in connection with the burglary, he and four companions participated in snatching a purse. The minor stated to the probation officer, "We all had the idea about purse snatching, that we could get money that way. I was going to use my share to buy a BB gun." He did not suggest the purse snatching expedition, he asserts. One of the other boys did. "That's how it happened. I was with the guys, and they said let's do this, and I just agreed and went along." The minor states that all he did was to select a likely victim as the five boys walked along the street. Then he and one companion, Sam Belnap, walked up behind the intended victim (Belinda Oakes). Jack says he "sort of stood there" as Sam Belnap snatched the purse. Sam quickly passed it on to Jack, and the two boys took to their heels. The victim screamed, and a man walking in the opposite direction grabbed Jack Garvin and Sam Belnap, who offered no resistance. A police officer was summoned and the two boys were taken into custody. The two other boys who helped plan and execute the purse snatching were subsequently apprehended on information secured by police. Statement

of Applicant

and

Victims:

The victim of the burglary, Mr. Joseph Glenn, will be satisfied with whatever disposition is made of the case, in that his property was returned undamaged. The victim of the robbery (Mrs. Belinda Oakes) has been out of town since the date of the offense, and efforts to locate her have been unsuccessful to date. The minor states he obtained $8 in bills as his share of the contents of the robbery victim's purse. Probation officer has instructed him to make restitution of this by turning it over to Sergeant J. Jackson, Pottsville Police Department. Minor's aunt took the money from him and is keeping it for further instructions. Sergeant Jackson will restore the money to the victim when it is turned over to him. Previous

History:

11-1-65 Minor and four other boys were arrested immediately after they took the newspapers off a street corner stand and threw them into the gutter. Action suspended. (Explaining this to probation officer, minor said he was with the boys but did not actively participate. )

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Parents' Statements: The mother states she is "shocked," and never would have thought that the minor "would do such things." She feels the aunt and uncle have always provided the minor with a nice home, better than she can provide for him or for his half-brothers and half-sisters. She states she was not married to the minor's father. She married another man soon after the minor was born. She has never been able to have the minor in her home, and has let the aunt and uncle raise him. She states she has nothing to do with his control or supervision except that she occasionally "talks to him" about his behavior. She would like to see the minor remain with his aunt and uncle, but feels a period of camp placement and probation supervision might help him. The mother spoke about her son without much display of feeling, although she indicated that she did have affection for him and wanted him to "get his balance" and grow up "the right way." The aunt and uncle say they are bewildered by the minor's recent behavior. They love him, have tried to provide a decent home for him, and have done all they can to help him grow up to be well behaved, they state. They are worried not only about his illegal activities but also his poor school work. They feel he is headed for more trouble unless something is done to help them. They would like to have minor remain in their home but they state they cannot take responsibility for him if he continues delinquent behavior. Family History and Home Status: The minor's mother relinquished him to the custody of the grandmother until he was four, then to the care of the aunt and uncle. They never adopted him or obtained legal guardianship. The minor's four half-brothers and three half-sisters live with the mother. They range in age from one year to eleven years. The mother is recently divorced from George Troy, and the youngest sibling is by another man to whom Mrs. Troy is not married. The aunt and uncle own their own home and have lived there continuously since the minor has been with them. They have an approximate joint income of $600 per month. Mr. Murphy is employed by the City of Pottsville Public Works Department. His wife is a receeptionist in a dental office. The Murphy's have a daughter of their own, Sheila, age 10, who lives with them and the minor. Minor's History: Jack Garvin's birth was normal. He had measles, whooping cough, and mumps before he was ten. He has suffered asthma attacks periodically, since infancy. The last one occurred two years ago. Minor lived with his maternal grandmother, Mrs. Mary Murphy, from birth until age four. Thereafter he went to live with his aunt and uncle. The mother states Jack has a friendly relationship with his half-siblings and that his younger brothers admire him. The minor states he likes cars and is looking forward to learning to drive. He also enjoys watching football and baseball games. He would prefer to play

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rather than observe, but he has been warned this may bring on an asthmatic attack. Jack has earned money by doing odd jobs in the neighborhood. He uses his uncle's mower to cut lawns. Currently he has a paper route, from which he earns about $30 a month. His aunt and uncle informed probation officer that Jack himself decided to do odd jobs and have a paper route. He enjoys work, keeps at it steadily, and deposits most of his earnings in a bank account, of which his uncle is trustee. Minor states he attends church regularly, and this was verified with Father Mooney of the Catholic Church at Second and Olive Streets, Pottsville. Father Mooney states the entire Murphy family attends regularly. Minor admits he frequently loses his temper and fights, but claims this occurs only when other boys tease him. His mother, aunt, and uncle state he is obedient and respectful to them. Jack asserts he is not a leader among the boys with whom he associates. To be a leader, he says, he would have to beat up each member of the group in a fist fight, thus proving his superiority. He cannot do this, he states. The other boys are superior to him in fighting ability. School History and Adjustment: Minor attends Roosevelt Junior High School. He is in the 8th grade. Psychometric examinations rate him i.q. 84, which would indicate he is of below average intelligence. This is somewhat curious, since he is at the grade level he should be for his age. Last month he received failing marks in two subjects, Ds in two others, a C in physical education, and a Β in English. His citizenship grades are consistently unsatisfactory, and the school principal, Mr. Harvey Schottland, informs the probation officer that all of Jack's classroom habits and attitudes need improvement. His attendance is generally unsatisfactory, and he truants about three or four days each month. The principal believes that Jack is a leader of an 8th grade group of boys who are serious discipline problems at the school. Jack's school counselor, Mr. Kenneth Kincaid, states he has difficulty in "getting to" Jack, that the boy never admits being wrong, always insisting he is misunderstood or that someone else is actually the person responsible for whatever it is Jack is being criticized for. Jack has been referred to the office for failing to meet after-school detentions, fighting, not doing his work in class, tampering with a boy's bike, taking soft drinks from the teachers' lounge, and using disrespectful language in talking to a teacher. Most of Jack's teachers, who were interviewed by the probation officer, indicated that Jack is not putting forth much effort in class, spending most of his time talking and disturbing others. Companions and Related Matters: The minor's companion in the burglary, Arthur Norwell, age 14, Juvenile Court number 40027, is also appearing in court on this date, in connection

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with that burglary. Probation officer is recommending that he be placed in a foster home. The minor's companions in the robbery were Sam Belnap, James Seymour, Henry Dudley, and Samuel Thorne. They are being recommended for probation, as they are believed to be amenable to such supervision. Analysis and Plan: Although the minor's aunt and uncle are providing him with adequate physical necessities and reasonable supervision, they are upset over his delinquent behavior, have little understanding of possible causal factors, and seem rather reluctant to continue responsibility for the minor if he persists in his misbehavior. The mother expresses love for the minor and regret that he has gotten into trouble, but her personal and family circumstances preclude her offering the minor a home or advancing a corrective plan that might help Jack. It seems that the deteriorating pattern of the minor's behavior began recently, but that he lacks the necessary inner control to prevent further deterioration in this respect. If this be the case, he may increasingly become a danger to himself and the community. Jack now professes to be impressed with the seriousness of his offenses, but for the most part he evades accepting responsibility for his actions, claiming the offenses were suggested and planned by his friends and that he was prevailed upon by them to take part in the illicit activities. Despite a contrary feeling expressed by others (indicated in the foregoing), Jack insists he is not a leader, does not influence his associates, and instead is a follower who hos been influenced by his peers. The minor cannot depend upon his mother to give him love or a home. He is not doing well at school. He is beginning to show a pattern of delinquency. A positive factor in his background is that he has been able to hold suitable part-time jobs. It does not appear that the minor would obtain the necessary control and encouragement if he remained in the home of his aunt and uncle. He needs to develop internal controls and self-discipline if he is to adjust at home and in the community. The probation camp program should provide the supervision and guidance that will facilitate this. Possibly, too, the minor will develop positive school habits while at camp. Since there is at least some indication that he is a leader among his peers, in connection with their delinquent activities, it is hoped that the camp program may offer Jack an opportunity to utilize those same leadership traits in a positive rather than a negative way. Due to the seriousness of the minor's recent offenses and the background of his companions, it appears advisable that he be removed from this neighborhood and school environment for a period of time. Recommendation: It is recommended that Jack Garvin be declared a ward of the court under Section 207 of the Juvenile Court Law; that he be ordered placed in the camp

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program; that the minor be detained in juvenile hall pending placement; and that the case be continued one year. (Dictated: 1-20-67) Respectfully submitted, Boyard Dupre, Chief Probation Officer By: Janie Greeley, Probation Officer

II IN T H E SUPERIOR COURT O F IN AND FOR COUNTY OF PRESENTENCE INVESTIGATION PROBATION OFFICER'S REPORT The People of the State of Defendant.

THE

, Plaintiff, vs. Robert Amander, Attorney: Fred Fox Judge John Drew Probation Officer: John Starr Probation No. X - l l l l l l

Defendant's true name: Same

Address: Barracks 11, Newton Naval Station

Charged with the Crime(s) of: Counts one and two—(Manslaughter), 202.4 PC. Count three—(Felony hit and run), 102.7 VC. Convicted of the Crime(s) of: Counts one and two—(Manslaughter). By: (Plea, Court, Jury) Court Days in jail this case: 5 Companion cases: None Personal History: Age: 31 years. Birthdate: 7-2-36. Race: Caucasian. Formal education: 10th grade, Age left school: 17. Marital status: Married. Occupation: Navy. No. of Dependents: 2. Income per month: $277.80. Health: Good. Came to State: Jan. 3, 1967. Came to County: Jan. 3, 1967. Branch military service: Navy. Kind of discharge: None.

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SOCIAL HISTORY (As supplied by Defendant and interested parties.) This married, 31-year-old father of one child, a career Navy man, is the youngest of four children born to parents of above average socioeconomic status, in Louisville, Kentucky, under harmonious conditions. Jewish religious teachings were emphasized in the home. His father, a pharmacist by trade, still resides in Louisville, as does the Defendant's older sister. Defendant's mother passed away in 1954 quite suddenly, following surgery for gallstones, but prior to her death and during the Defendant's formative years, she fulfilled the role of mother and housewife and was not employed outside the home. Information supplied by interested parties indicates that the family, as well as the Defendant, have always enjoyed an excellent reputation in the community. Defendant's oldest brother is a college graduate and has been a department manager for the Bixley Corporation of Chicago for approximately seven years. Defendant's youngest sister is married, has seven children, and resides in Vincennes, Indiana. Defendant completed the tenth grade at Louisville High School but quit at the age of 17 due to lack of interest and a desire to enlist in the United States Navy. He subsequently completed his high school requirements while in the Navy, and although he hopes to be able to remain in the service he also has a desire to take further courses in bookkeeping and mathematics. The defendant held various part-time jobs as a teen-ager prior to quitting school and enlisting in the Navy on June 11, 1953, in Louisville, Kentucky. He has now completed better than fourteen years in the Navy, is a petty officer third class, and since January 6, 1967 has been assigned as a baker with the Commissary Division at the U. S. Naval Station in Newton. Defendant reports that during the early stages of his Navy career he suffered some minor disciplinary actions against him as a result of reporting for duty late and also on approximately three occasions for drinking while still a minor. The most severe penalty which he received was extra duty for twelve days. Defendant earns approximately $140 per month through his naval service and his wife receives an allotment in the amount of $137.80 per month, giving a total family income of $277.80. He owns furniture valued at $1,000 upon which $425 is owing, payable at $32 per month. He also owns a 1957 Ford and a 1965 Chevrolet station wagon, the latter now valued at $1,500 upon which $1,900 is owing, payable at $68 per month. He also owes his brother and father approximately $1,500 in connection with a loan for bail and lawyer's fees in the present matter. Defendant married Sandra Ann Caleb, now aged 27, on December 30, 1960, in Austin, Texas. They have remained united since that time and have one child, Thomas, aged three. Additionally, defendant's wife is expecting the birth of another child in January, 1968. Defendant's marital union occurred after a courtship of one year and it has evidently been an extremely

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stable and happy relationship. Defendant's wife was residing with him at the time of the present offense but has since returned to the home of her parents in Austin, Texas, to await the birth of her forthcoming child. Defendant appears to be of average intelligence, is not active in church, claims good physical health, and enjoys hunting and fishing as well as other sports during his leisure hours. Narcotics and Intoxicants: Defendant denies any illegal use of narcotics and claims to be a social drinker only. He states that during his early years in the Navy and prior to his marriage he tended to overindulge in the use of alcoholic beverages while on weekend passes with other members of his unit, but after his marriage in December 1960 he reduced his alcoholic intake to the point that he generally drank only beer while at home or at occasional parties which he and his wife attended. Prior Record: Source of Information: Newton P.D., FBI, CII, Probation Department records, State Department of Motor Vehicles, Kentucky State Department of Motor Vehicles, and Defendant's statement. 2-2-56 Newton. Drunk in public. Released to shore patrol. (Defendant is unclear as to the circumstances of this arrest but believes that he was drinking while on pass and was picked up by police after he emerged from a bar.) Local record bureaus reveal no additional arrests for the defendant; however, he provides the following information : 1958 Merville, North Carolina. Trespassing. Fined $58. (Defendant states that he and a friend became intoxicated and mistakenly went to the home of a local resident, thinking that it was the home of his sister. In their intoxicated condition they were somewhat loud and boisterous and as a consequence police were summoned.) 1958 Norfolk, Virginia. Drunk. Fined $ 15. (Defendant and six other sailors were arrested outside a small bar and turned over to the shore patrol. ) Clearances received from the Department of Motor Vehicles in this state and Kentucky indicate that he has suffered no license suspension or revocation in either state and has no record of prior traffic violations. Present Offense: Defendant was arrested at approximately 1:15 A.M. on March 24, 1967, at 2503 Harbor Street in Newton, by Newton Police. He was booked on a charge of 202 Penal Code (manslaughter), 102 Vehicle Code (felony hit and run) and 231 Vehicle Code (felony drunk driving). He was later charged in the information with counts one and two, 202.4 Penal Code (manslaughter), the matter being continued to the present date for probation and sentence hearing and for disposition of counts three and four.

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Based upon the information available it appears that at approximately 1 2 : 3 0 A.M. on March 2 4 , 1967, the Defendant was driving his 1957 Ford automobile while he was in an intoxicated condition and was traveling northbound on the southbound lanes of the Newton Speedway. Evidently at least two vehicles which were properly southbound on the speedway were forced to take evasive action to avoid the Defendant's oncoming vehicle. Shortly thereafter, south of the Sten Street overpass, a 1966 Corvair being driven by Sam Taub and having as a passenger John Thomas McLain was forced to swerve from the number one, or fast, lane of the speedway, to the right, in order to evade the Defendant's oncoming vehicle. The Corvair subsequently went out of control, skidded across the center divider, overturned, and was struck by another oncoming car which was properly northbound on the other side of the speedway. The occupants of the Corvair, both off-duty policemen, were thrown from the vehicle and sustained fatal injuries. Mr. and Mrs. James Alton, occupants of the 1960 Buick which was northbound on the speedway and which struck the Corvair as it proceeded across the divider, were both seriously injured but have recovered or are recovering from their injuries. Immediately following the Corvair and proceeding in a southbound direction was a 1960 Chevrolet driven by Lewis Carter and containing as a passenger Fred E. Saunders. This vehicle also was forced to swerve to the right in an effort to evade the Defendant's vehicle, which was continuing northbound in the southbound fast lane of the speedway. Defendant's vehicle sideswiped this car, causing it to skid out of control to the right shoulder of the speedway, where it came to a halt. Defendant's car came to rest partially on the center island dividing north- and southbound lanes of the speedway, evidently with its motor still running. Mr. Carter and Mr. Saunders alighted from their vehicle and began running toward the Defendant's car to see if he had been injured in the collision. Mr. Carter testified at the preliminary hearing that he observed the Defendant turn his head toward them as they approached, but then the Defendant accelerated rapidly off the center divider, still headed northbound in the southbound lanes of traffic. The Defendant was apprehended approximately fifteen minutes later when officers enroute to the scene of the accident noticed his vehicle in a damaged condition parked in front of the Hilo Bar at 2503 Harbor Street, a location which is less than one block from the defendant's place of residence at that time. The officers checked the damage on the vehicle and searched the interior of the car, looking for registration. They found the Defendant's navy cap with his name on it, and proceeded into the bar, where they began checking identification. The Defendant was reportedly seated at the bar but had not been served, and as the officers began checking identification, he left his seat and proceeded in the direction of the back exit of the establishment, but was stopped by the officers. He allegedly admitted to the officers that he had been in a speedway collision a short time earlier, but stated that the

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driver of the other vehicle had kept going and therefore he did too. The arresting officers formed the opinion that the Defendant was intoxicated, based upon their observation of his flushed face, incoherent speech, watery, bloodshot eyes, and his inability to pass a balance test. Defendant was also given an intoximeter test, which recorded a .34 second color change at 2:25 A.M. A blood sample was also taken after the intoximeter test, analysis showing a .20 blood alcohol level. Defendant carried public liability and property damage insurance with the Pixel Insurance Company, with maximum coverage amounting to $20,000. Civil litigation has been initiated by the heirs of the two decedents and by Mr. and Mrs. James Alston. Both of the decedents were married and leave children in addition to their respective wives. Defendant's Statement: Orally, the defendant indicates that he had gotten up late on the date in question and intended to return to his duty post at the naval station that evening to prepare for a forthcoming inspection. He had one whiskey and ginger ale approximately one hour before leaving home at about 7:00 P.M. He decided to stop downtown for a couple of beers before continuing on to the naval base. He proceeded to the Happy Hour Bar on Sidel Street, where he met a sailor friend, Bob Stone, by accident. Thereafter they went to Toni's Bar on Broadway, where they stayed for about 45 minutes and had one or two beers. They proceeded to another bar across the street, where they had one more beer, after which they separated, the Defendant continuing east along Broadway and stopping at approximately four different bars, in each of which he consumed no more than one or two mixed drinks consisting of whiskey and ginger ale. He then realized that it was too late to go to work as he had intended. He decided to return home. He vaguely recalls taking First Street westbound to where it dead-ends on Culfay, then cutting over to what he thought was Third Street and proceeding to the speedway. After getting on the speedway the only thing he recalls was a headlight approaching and pulling to the right, but sideswiping him. He brought his car to a stop, with the motor still running. He thought he saw tail lights disappearing into the distance, whereupon he continued driving northbound until leaving the speedway at Sten Street. He recalls stopping at the bar on Harbor Street to have one drink before going on home. The police entered and he was arrested. Defendant emphasizes that all of his recollections are extremely vague and that he cannot be certain that they are accurate. He does not recall other cars moving out of his way on the speedway, nor does he remember seeing the Corvair go out of control. Defendant says he realizes that his driving while intoxicated caused two deaths and that this fact cannot be changed. If he has to serve time he will not feel that an injustice has been done. Beyond that, he says, he will always carry the guilt of this incident on his shoulders, no matter what the court disposition may be. If he goes to jail he will try to

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pick up the pieces of his life after his release and make every effort to insure that such a tragic incident will never occur again due to any wrongful behavior on his part. In his lengthy handwritten statement the Defendant relates certain factors regarding his personal and family background, and goes on to say in part: ". . . as to my drinking in the Navy, I would not say I had a problem as an alcoholic. I believe the problem was that I didn't know when to quit. It seemed at the time I started drinking that it was the normal procedure for a sailor to have fun. I did not drink constantly but when I did I usually drank too much. . . . I can look back on the drinking in my life and tell that it was senseless as well as a waste of money. I met Sandra, my wife, when I first arrived in Texas for Navy duty. She neither drinks nor smokes and is a very good mother to our child. We get along very good together, as well if not better than any happily married couple. . . . I realize I cannot undo the terrible tragedy that has happened. I cannot bring back the two men that were killed in the accident and neither can I erase from my mind that I was to blame. It is something that I will live with the rest of my life." The Defendant then describes his activities just prior to and after the accident, essentially as previously related. He remarks: " . . . I have tried to remember ever since the accident how I could possibly have driven on the wrong side of the speedway. I was new to these streets and speedways, but the only thing I can really remember clearly is the crash with the Chevrolet and spinning to a stop with my motor running. My car was facing sideways and the only thing I saw was the tail lights from another car going down the road. I assumed the car did not stop and that I had been sideswiped. I then left the speedway on Sten and proceeded on my way towards home. I stopped at a little bar on Harbor Street and noticed that the driver's side of the car was dented. That is where the police officers picked me up and I found out shortly thereafter what really happened. I know that in society's eyes I am a criminal and have a terrible debt to pay. In my own mind I know I will never get into this situation again. I have learned a very hard lesson at the expense of two men. I want to continue my career in the Navy and I know the outcome of this has a direct bearing on whether I stay in the Navy. If it is decided that I will have to go to jail I will serve my time honorably and to the utmost of my ability. My main concern at the present is my wife and child. I do not want to go to jail but I know that decision alone is up to the court." Interested Parties: Mrs. Sandra Ann Caleb, the Defendant's wife, states that her husband had a tendency to drink a little too much prior to their marriage but she insisted that he stop and he did so, quite willingly. Since their marriage, he has used alcohol only occasionally, and then only at parties or in their own home. She describes him as being an excellent husband and family man who always got along well with people. She believes he really does not know what

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actually happened on the evening in question, and that the drinks he consumed affected him in a more pronounced way because of his prior abstinence from such beverages. Chief Warrant Officer C. D. Cohalen, commissary officer, United States Naval Station, Newton, indicates in part: "I checked with the legal department concerning his record. He has a very good record since he has been in the service. If Amander is convicted he would receive an administrative discharge from the Navy. His time will be up January 17, 1968, at which time he would have completed approximately fifteen years of Naval Service. He would receive an honorable discharge at this time. Amander plans to make the Navy his career." Prior to this letter, Warrant Officer Cohalen had submitted one to the probation officer in which he stated: "Amander has worked for me in the commissary department from 6 January, 1967, until the present time. Amander does his work extremely well and is very reliable. He needs very little supervision and works well on his own. His military appearance and neatness is a credit to the Naval Service. Amander gets along exceptionally well with his fellow shipmates." Mr. Herbert S. Vance, former elementary school teacher in Louisville, Kentucky, now retired, writes that he has known the Defendant for quite a few years and observed him as he grew up in Louisville. He was amazed to learn of the Defendant's present involvement and finds it difficult to believe that the Defendant might be at fault. Mr. Harrison C. Tyler, 270 E. First Street, Louisville, Kentucky, writes in part: "I have known Bob since he was a very young boy and had him in my Sunday School class for a number of years. Bob came from a very good family and I have never known of any difficulty that he has been in since I have known him up to the time of this accident in Newton. Bob's mother died when he was approximately eighteen years of age and since this was a very close family, I am sure that this had quite an effect upon him." Mr. Tyler goes on to say that he has known the Defendant's family for many years and that it has been an extremely close-knit one. Mr. Tyler volunteers to provide any help which might be needed. Mr. George Amander, 121 Willow Avenue, Louisville, Kentucky, the Defendant's father, describes the Defendant's early background and points out that his son has never been in any serious difficulty. Mr. Amander states in part: "I will say Bobby was brought up in a good Jewish home, our synagogue is the Reformed Synagogue and we believe in prayer. We have prayed for Bobby and not only Bobby but for the family of each one of the men who lost their their lives, that God will in some way help them. I do not take this tragedy lightly and it has taken a deep cut in my life. I am 63 years of age and it hurts me very deeply not only for Bobby but for those families who were left behind." Mr. Amander says he believes his son has suffered very much over this incident and he does not believe that a prison term would be any good for him or solve anything.

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Additional letters of character reference have been received from Mr. Aaron Amander, the Defendant's brother, 111 Cox Street, Chicago; Mr. P. L. Sorenson, 205 Oak Street, Louisville, Kentucky; and Mr. Francis Hurley, 267 Bridge Street, Louisville, Kentucky. All of the writers speak highly of the Defendant and his family, pointing out that he was reared in a pious Jewish home and enjoys a fine reputation in Louisville. Mrs. James Alton, 609 Orange Street, Vilasia, one of the victims, indicates that her husband suffered broken ribs and other injuries in this accident and was hospitalized for two weeks. He is no longer under treatment and has been able to return to work. Mrs. Alton suffered a broken leg and wrist as well as other injuries, for which she was hospitalized four weeks. She is still under treatment. She has no estimate of the amount of the medical bills thus far incurred but states that they have engaged an attorney and that civil action is pending. Mr. Elias Pitchess, Claims Department, Pixel Insurance Company, indicates that the Defendant was insured by his company at the time of the accident to a maximum of $20,000. He verifies that his company is about to enter discussion with the heirs of the decedents and Mr. and Mrs. Alton in regard to a settlement of their claims. Evaluation:

There is no question that this Defendant has had the benefit of a very good home background and that he has been an essentially law-abiding and respected citizen during his previous 31 years of life. It is true that he experienced three previous contacts with law enforcement in regard to offenses related to alcohol, but these incidents occurred several years ago, during the early part of the Defendant's naval career, while he was still single and not enjoying the stability later provided by a good marital relationship. Moreover, although the Defendant has been operating an automobile since he was 16, clearance indicates that he has not had any prior traffic violations on his record. During the several contacts which the probation officer has had with the Defendant, it became apparent that the Defendant's true feelings, and the high degree of remorse which he feels, are adequately expressed in the letter which he addressed to the court. Gross negligence on the part of the Defendant in this tragic occurrence cannot be denied and is not denied by the Defendant. The fact that two human beings lost their lives because of his negligence cannot be altered. However, as probation is concerned primarily with the protection of the community while attempting rehabilitation of the offender, the question of amenability to probation must be considered in terms of the significance of the present offense as it relates to the Defendant as a whole and to his prior patterns of behavior. In this respect, it appears that the Defendant would be amenable to probationary supervision and rehabilitation, as the present offense was one which would not have logically been predicted in terms of the Defendant's background. He became involved in a tragedy

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which could well have happened to any of the many individuals who have in the past driven while under the influence of intoxicants. The fact that the Defendant left the scene of the accident has not reasonably been explained by him. However, when apprehended, the Defendant was not particularly panicky or upset. Being an essentially normal individual, he would very likely have shown such emotional signs had he fully realized what had occurred. Although the probation officer is inclined to recommend probation in this matter, it is believed that a suitable period of time in custody must be recommended, if for no other reason than to serve notice on others in the community, who might have propensities for driving while under the influence of intoxicants, that such behavior is not condoned and can result in the loss of personal freedom regardless of whether or not an accident occurs. The following recommendation is, therefore, submitted. Recommendation: It is respectifully recommended that probation be granted for a period of five years under the following terms and conditions: 1. Spend a suitable period of time in County Jail. 2. Make restitution through probation officer in such amounts and manner as such officer shall prescribe. 3. Abstain from the use of all alcoholic beverages and stay out of places where they are the chief item of sale. 4. Not associate with persons disapproved of by probation officer. 5. Seek and maintain employment as approved by probation officer. 6. Maintain residence as approved by probation officer. 7. Surrender driver's license to clerk of court, to be returned to Department of Motor Vehicles, and not drive a motor vehicle for the first year after release from custody nor until lawfully licensed. 8. Obey all laws, orders, rules and regulations of the Court and Probation Department. Respectfully submitted, Frederick Parsons, Chief Probation Officer By: John A. Starr, Probation Officer Date: 5 / 1 / 6 7 III STATE DEPARTMENT OF PAROLE PREPAROLE INVESTIGATION REPORT Institution: Stanhope Prison Name: Commitment: Harry Roberts Number: 33333 True: Same Judge: Adams Aliases: Robert Harris Court: Truax County Frank Roberts

SELECTION IN PROBATION A N D PAROLE Crime: Assault, 2nd Sentence: 5-0/ 10-0 Jail Time : 94 days Age: 30 — 6 / 1 2 / 3 5 Color: White Nativity: Louisville, Ky. Social Status: Single Religion: Catholic Codefendants: Name Number Amos Aaron 26222

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Sentenced: 12/18/62 Received: 12/26/62 Eligible for parole: 2 / 2 1 / 6 6 Expiration of maximum sentence: 9 / 2 3 / 7 2 Warrants: None Former Parole History: None in this state Citizenship: U.S. Occupation: Laborer Military Service: None

Disposition Present Status City Penitentiary On parole to Indefinite. Att. Assault City Parole Commission. 1st Paroled 12/23/64 Introduction This report is based on interviews with the inmate's mother; other relatives of the inmate; relatives of the inmate's victim; Truax County Probation Department; District Attorney's office, Truax County; Detective J. Carroll; one social agency. Details on police records in other cities were secured through parole officers in those states. Legal History Present Offense: In Truax County, the inmate and codefendant, Amos Aaron, were indicted for Assault 2nd degree, charged with having assaulted Abraham Roth with a knife, inflicting very serious bodily injuries. The crime allegedly took place on 9/14/62. Arrested the same day, both defendants pleaded guilty in Truax County Court on 10/31/62, the inmate to a reduced charge of Assault, 2nd degree Unarmed, the codefendant Aaron to a reduced charge of Attempted Assault, 1st degree. On 12/18/62 the inmate was sentenced in Truax County Court by Judge Adams to a term of five to ten years in State Prison as a third felony offender. Aaron was sentenced to an indefinite term in the City Penitentiary. The details of the offense are as follows: According to the District Attorney's record, Abraham Roth, the complainant, residing at the time of the offense at 100 Variety Street, Midcity, 31 years old, and a garage helper, declared that on 9/14/62, at 3:30 A.M., while somewhat intoxicated, he was walking down Harris Street, Midcity, after an evening of playing cards, when he noticed a crowd of people on the street, apparently in a violent argument. This was on Harris Street, between Humphry and Dole Avenues. The man later identified as Roberts was seen by Roth to knock an individual, later identified as Arthur Costello, to the

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ground, threatening him with a knife. Codefendant Aaron held back the crowd with another knife. As the complainant neared the group, Aaron, apparently considering him a member of the hostile crowd, aimed at him with his knife, striking at him but missing. The complainant declared that he then attempted to jump away, but the inmate, Roberts, came at him and cut him. As he fell, he heard Roberts say, "Let's get the hell out of here. I cut that guy." Thereupon the two ran off, the crowd dispersed, including Arthur Costello, leaving Roth lying on the ground. A cab driver passing by soon afterward took him to the hospital, where he was found to be wounded in the abdomen. Questioned by detectives at the bedside, Roth said he had never seen either of the codefendants before. As a result of the stabbing, the complainant suffered the severance of three colon intestines and the fracture of two ribs. He remained in Cumberland Hospital for twenty-two days, and at the time of the probation investigation, according to that record, was crippled and unable to work. His intestines had ruptured and a serious operation was anticipated. The Probation Report goes on to say that Detective John Carroll of the 62nd Squad, who talked with Roth and got physical descriptions of his assailants, thought Roberts and Aaron, among others, might fit the descriptions. Carroll knew these two well, having questioned them before, as possible suspects in another matter. He at once rounded up some six men who might answer the description, and lined them up before Roth at Cumberland Hospital. The complainant promptly and unhesitatingly picked out Roberts and Aaron as his assailants. According to the Probation and District Attorney's reports, Aaron, questioned by police thereafter, said that he and Roberts, on the date of the assault, visited a brothel, then a bar together. They had "plenty" to drink, and at about 4:00 or 5:00 A.M. found themselves on Harris Street. They were jumped by a gang, apparently with robbery as motive, or because of some quarrel that may have started in a bar. (Aaron claimed to have been too drunk to remember all that happened earlier). Aaron and Roberts tried to defend themselves, drawing knives. Roberts seized one assailant and threw him to the ground, while Aaron held off the others. Aaron claims several of the mob had knives. He asserts he never saw any of them before. As Roth approached Aaron, the latter thought he was one of the mob. He lunged at him and missed, meanwhile yelling a warning to Roberts. This caused Roberts to turn toward the complainant and cut him. To Detective Carroll, the inmate, at the time of the arrest, said he did stab someone, but claimed he did not know who it was. He gave the same story as Aaron, saying he thought he was being mugged. He drew a knife to defend himself. He said he was not as drunk as Aaron, and knew clearly that he was being attacked with robbery as the motive. Then, having stabbed Roth without knowing who he was, he became frightened and ran off.

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Costello, the man who had been lying on the ground when the complainant approached, was picked up on confidential information, according to Detective Carroll, who was reached by phone by the undersigned on 12/1/65. Costello is a man with a long record for petty offenses, and would not have hesitated to undertake a mugging, said the Detective. However, Costello told Detective Carroll he was attacked without provocation, that he was not with the other people on the street, and that he was not even talking to any of them. Detective Carroll doubted his story, and felt there had been an attempted mugging, but he had no basis for detaining Costello. According to the Probation Report, Robert's knife, recovered by Detective Carroll at the scene of the crime, had a small two-inch blade. The complainant told probation officers, according to the report, that the attack having been unprovoked, he thinks the inmate should be severely punished. WARRANTS A N D INDICTMENTS OUTSTANDING: None PREVIOUS OFFENSES: Louisville, Kentucky 8/1/49 Petty thieving, Children's Court, disposition not given. 8/29/49 Prowling, Children's Court, disposition not given. 11/10/50 Nuisance at theatre, Children's Court, disposition not given. 1/30/51 School trouble, Children's Court, Riverview Home. 5/19/51 Juvenile delinquency (burglary of two gas stations and larceny of money), Children's Court, Riverview Home. 8/25/51 Picked up, disposition not given. 10/25/51 Stealing two boxes of lumber, Children's Court, Probation. 11/17/51 Destroying school property, Children's Court, Riverview Home. Released 12/22/51. 1/12/52 School misconduct and shoplifting, Children's Court, Riverview Home. Kansas City, Missouri 2/4/52 Arrested at request of mother as runaway, Juvenile Court, Kansas City, returned to Louisville. 6/26/52

2/1/53 6/5/53 12/2/54

Omaha, Nebraska Arrested at request of mother as runaway, Juvenile Court, returned to Louisville. Louisville, Kentucky Wanted as fugitive from Omaha, Nebraska, case dropped. Incorrigibility and purse stealing with $40, Children's Court, committed to State Industrial School for Boys, paroled after one year. Breaking and entering (store, cash register), Inferior Court, Louisville, sentenced to State Industrial School 15 months as parole violator.

138 8/23/57 1/11/58 2/10/58

3/14/58

5/28/58

9/1/59 3/5/60

11/21/60 1/30/61

8/12/61 9/8/61

SELECTION IN PROBATION AND PAROLE Stockton, California Vagrancy, jail 15 days and 165 days suspension. Vagrancy, 180 days, suspended. Oakland, California Selling stolen men's suits, Oakland Police, turned over to Sacramento Police. Sacramento, California Store burglary and larceny of suits of clothing (burglary 2nd), Sacramento, California Superior Court, sentenced to State Prison 1-3 years, suspended. Deported from California and returned to Louisville, to Industrial School as parole violator, served 16 months. St. Paul, Minnesota Vagrancy, St. Paul Police Court, 5 days City Jail. Forging, altering Government check, conspiracy and theft of mails, U.S. District Court, fined $200 and sentenced to 2 years U.S. Reformatory, El Reno, Oklahoma. Paroled 10/12/60. Malicious destruction of property, Police Court, County Jail, 60 days. Violation of federal parole and intoxication (above offense), Federal Parole Board. Returned to El Reno, Oklahoma Reformatory, 144 days. Detroit, Michigan Prowler, hotel basement, Detroit Police, discharged. Jamesville, Kentucky Tramp (freight cars), Jamesville Police, sentenced to County Jail, 15 days.

Institutional History Summarized According to institutional records, Roberts worked in the broom and basket shop and later in the cloth carding shop. He performed his work very satisfactorily, being rated "excellent." He was never cited for misconduct in the institution. Physical examination revealed no abnormalities except syphilis, for which he received treatment. The condition is no longer in an infectious stage. Psychologist rates him as I. Q. 95, says he is a confirmed wanderer and unsettled emotionally. Personal History Early Development: The mother, Mrs. Emma Roberts, when interviewed in her home 12/1/65, gave the following data: Roberts was born June 12, 1935, in Louisville, Kentucky. He was the second of two children, born of the union of Emma

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and George Roberts. He was normal in all ways, according to the mother, but she gives the impression of being too low-grade intellectually to have much recollection or insight on this score. She remarked, "He was always well. He was smart and walked fast"—meaning early. When the inmate was one year old the father died, but the mother maintained the home and did not remarry. She never worked outside the home after she was widowed, subsisting on relief at times, but most of the time living on earnings as a dressmaker during this period. School Period: The inmate entered public school in Louisville at the age of 6, and continued until he had reached the age of 16 and was in the 8th grade. He did not complete that grade. The mother could not recall the names of the schools he attended, and the statements concerning school period are based on her unsubstantiated version. She says he became a serious problem almost from the time he began school. He would truant, roam the streets, occasionally stay out overnight. He was disinterested in study. At home he was "sassy—he was always raising hell with me and I couldn't do nothing with him." He would not do chores. He demanded spending money. He obviously could be controlled only very loosely by Mrs. Roberts. At the age of 8 he had whooping cough and measles. At 10 he had chicken pox. Also at 10, he fell from a tree, landing on his head. He was unconscious for only a few minutes, and no doctor was called. However, Mrs. Roberts, in the interview, kept returning to this subject, with remarks such as, "I guess that started him off wrong" (although he began his misconduct before that), and, "I always figured that made him a little crazy, not crazy really, just a little unusual." Toward his older sister, Thelma, Roberts was insolent and eruptive. He complained she got more money than he, the bigger piece of pie, and so on. He often fought with her, usually being the aggressor. The mother, there is some reason to believe, did favor Thelma, for she kept saying to the officer, "What he had against that kid I don't know." "She was always good. She was the good one." "Naturally she got good from me, she was so sweet." It was apparent, however, that Mrs. Roberts does not recognize it if she did favor Thelma. She feels she did "all a person can do" for Harry, and that he failed to respond. Nevertheless, she did not speak bitterly or hostilely of him, but rather, seemed to accept that he was and is a burden a mother must bear, though with much discouragement. Mrs. Roberts did not know much about her son's activities outside the home. She knows he "ran around," but does not know where he spent his time during the formative school years. She does not know if he was a member of a gang, a leader or a follower, or whether he had an interest in girls any part of this time. She expressed some bewilderment as to how he could have run around nights as he did, because, "One thing about him, he w as atraid of the dark."

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But she did know he was developing a delinquent pattern, for she constantly received notes from teachers, was asked to see the principal, and had to come to court when Harry got into trouble. At 13 or 14, she is not sure which, the inmate had his first formal arrest for stealing in a five-and-tencent store. She thinks this was in 1949. She recalled the brushes with the law listed above; says he "went on the bum" in 1952, and was picked up in Kansas City; and disappeared again, the same year, being located in Nebraska after she reported him missing to Louisville police. Youth and Adult History: Finally, in desperation, Mrs. Roberts thought a change of environment might stabilize her son. She had a sister, Harriet Stone, living in Midcity, and she arranged to remove to that city and state in November, 1961. Harry was 26 then, through with school, and loafing most of the time. He had never held a job of any kind up to then, demanding his mother support him, which she did as best as she could. A week after arriving in Midcity, Harry left home, and from then on Mrs. Roberts began to know less and less about him. "He never really came back," she says. He would not write home, but occasionally he would appear, stay a few days, and leave again. She said, when asked, that she never pleaded with him to remain at home or change his ways. "If he was there, he was there. If he left, he left. What else was I going to do?" She knew nothing about any police record after 1961. She does not even know whether he ever married. She says he never displayed affection for her, and never offered to discuss his activities. Parole authorities in other states were asked to furnish what details were available on the arrests of inmate. They confirm the fact that he was a wanderer, and a petty thief at times. The California parole authorities inform that in March 1958 inmate was arrested in Sacramento for burglarizing a store at night. This was when he was sentenced to state prison. However, sentence was suspended and he was allowed to leave the school for Louisville, where he was wanted as a parole violator. Minnesota authorities tell us that the 1960 arrest in that state was for stealing U. S. Government checks from mail boxes in an apartment house. This would indicate that after satisfying the Kentucky authorities Roberts drifted away again. Mrs. Harriet Stone, the inmate's maternal aunt, was seen in her home, 222 Fourth Street, Midcity, but she was most impatient about questioning. She stated, "That boy was never any good and never will be." She claimed to know nothing about him except that "He made life hell for his mother." Mrs. Stone, about 60, lives in a comfortably furnished, well-kept apartment. Her husband is a city fireman. She stated emphatically that she is not interested in the inmate, "and I never expect to be." Mrs. stone was interviewed 12/23/65.

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To the probation officer, as revealed in the Probation Report, the inmate stated: "I never got along at home. I never got any attention and I said the hell with it." He claimed that since he was 20 he subsisted largely on earnings as a harvest hand. He could or would give no names of employers. He lived in cheap hotels, he claimed. But "most of the time I was arrested I wasn't guilty. They just picked on me because I was on the bum." He impressed the probation officer as "surly, unrepentent, hardened and wasted." The only responsive note in the interview with the probation officer was struck when the subject of religion was brought up. Here (although the mother had told the parole officer that Harry never attended church) the inmate told the probation officer, with some pride, that he had been an altar boy in a local parish church in Louisville, and "that was the only place I ever got any decent treatment." Family Situation Parents: According to inmate's mother, Harry Roberts's father was George Roberts, who married inmate's mother in 1926, before a Justice of the Peace in Louisville, Kentucky. Mr. Roberts was born in Nebraska. At the time he married he was a butcher. He provided adequately for his family and, says Mrs. Roberts, was a kind father and husband. He was equally interested in both children. He died in November 1938, when the inmate was three years old. Mr. Roberts was then about 33. Cause of death was pneumonia. The mother, Emma Roberts, nee Fields, was born in Louisville on March 21, 1911. She had only one sibling, an older sister, Harriet. Her parents died when she was 18, both being killed when a car they were riding in crashed through a bridge railing and landed in the Ohio River. Mrs. Roberts attended public school in Louisville through the 6th grade, she asserts, quitting at the age of 14. This suggests she was a somewhat retarded student. She worked in the Mengel Box Company factory thereafter until she married, at the age of 15. After the death of her husband, Mrs. Roberts became a dressmaker and supported her family fairly adequately, although for brief periods, she says, she was on relief. Then she removed to Midcity, as indicated above. She impressed the parole officer as a serious-minded, sincere, but not overintelligent woman. She appeared to have little insight into the behavior or needs of her children, but she definitely accepts responsibility for their care, even though she is discouraged about the inmate. Sibling: Thelma Roberts, sister of inmate, was born April 6, 1931, in Louisville, according to the mother. She attended public school in Louisville and graduated elementary school at age 14. She did not pursue her studies further, preferring to work in factories, both in Louisville and, later, in Midcity. She was a well child, bright and good natured, according to her mother. So far as Mrs. Roberts is aware, Thelma did not resent Harry nor reciprocate his

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apparent ill will toward her. In 1958 she married Thomas Garcia. The following year Garcia deserted and has not been heard from since. Thelma took up her abode with her mother again, and lives with her now. She was not available for interview when the parole officer visited, being at work, in the H X Dress Company, 100 Fourth Avenue, Midcity. Wife: Inmate is single, so far as known. Community Attitude Complainant: Efforts were made to locate the complainant and finally, on 12/22/65, the writer, through a remote relative of the complainant, was able to interview Mrs. Louis Harris, a half-sister of complainant Abraham Roth, who resides at 1 Post Street, Midcity. She advised that Roth had recovered completely from his injuries, so much so that he was accepted as an able-bodied seaman in the maritime service. He was on a voyage at the time parole officer interviewed Mrs. Harris. She stated that the last time he was home he mentioned the attack upon him, said it was unprovoked and that he felt the inmate should have received a more severe sentence than he did. District Attorney: The District Attorney of Truax County, in a letter to this Department dated 11/1/65, states, "Parole recommendation—none." Judge: The parole officer was unable to make contact with Judge Adams, who is ill and away from the bench. Interested Agencies and Individuals: This case was cleared with the Social Service Index in Midcity and found to be known only to the Truax County Department of Public Welfare. The parole officer visited District 20 and spoke with the caseworker, Miss Jane Smith, who stated the D.P.W. had received a request for assistance from Mrs. Roberts, December 9, 1961. At the time, Mrs. Roberts was unable to earn enough to take care of her needs. Thelma was unemployed. It is perhaps significant that in the application, Mrs. Roberts made no mention of the existence of her son. Brief emergency relief was granted, and shortly after that the caseworker was able to secure a job for Thelma, whereupon the case was closed, December 29 of the same year. Parole Program Prospective Residence: The inmate offers a residence program with his mother, Mrs. Emma Roberts, 106 North New Haven Street, Midcity. Parole officer called at the address on 12/1/65 at 10:00 A.M. and there interviewed Mrs. Roberts in her apartment 9A, on the ground floor.

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The building houses eight families. Mrs. Roberts occupies a five-room apartment for which she pays $100 monthly. There is a kitchen, living room, Mrs. Roberts's bedroom, a bedroom for Thelma, and another room which is unoccupied and sparsely furnished. The last would be the inmate's room. Mrs. Roberts plans to buy additional furnishings for it. The apartment was well kept, although cheaply furnished. Mrs. Roberts says she will gladly receive the inmate into her home again, although she expresses some skepticism as to whether he will remain there. Nevertheless, she considers it her duty to offer her son a home and to try to make it pleasant for him. Queried, she remarked she did not think Thelma would be an irritation to the inmate, insofar as the girl's behavior is concerned. However, judging from the past, Mrs. Roberts said, she cannot be certain how Harry would accept Thelma. She hopes there will be no trouble, but if there is, and a choice must be made, Thelma will remain with her, she says. Aside from this possible basis of friction, Mrs. Roberts assured the undersigned that Harry will be made welcome and accepted as a member of the family, with his past forgotten. Considering that no other place is available, and further considering that in spite of the possible friction that may develop between the inmate and Thelma, this is still the only home open to him with relatives. The parole officer would approve of this residence program if the Parole Board sees fit to release Roberts. Prospective

Employment:

The inmate told the institutional parole officer that he had not resided in Midcity long enough to build up any employment record. Therefore, he was unable to secure any employment offer. Mrs. Roberts had told the parole officer that the husband of a customer of hers, for whom she had made clothes in the past, owns a large grocery and vegetable store at 122 E. 11th Street, Midcity, and had indicated that her husband might employ the inmate if he had a vacancy at the time Roberts was due for release. Therefore, on 12/22/65, the parole officer called at this address and there interviewed Mr. John Jones, owner. He stated that he and his wife, the latter a customer of Mrs. Roberts, own this store jointly, although only he operates it. It is a very large establishment, occupying almost three-quarters of the block. It was doing a brisk business at the time of the officer's call, at 11:30 A.M. Mr. Jones inquired as to the criminal background of the inmate, saying he knew very little about this. The parole officer told him that he had had numerous arrests, most of them involving vagrancy and traveling about the country, but some of them involving thefts, etc. This information was given the employer when he asked the parole officer to specify the kind of crime the inmate had been found guilty of in the past. He also specifically asked, and was told, for what offense the inmate is now serving time.

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After this had been explained to Mr. Jones, he said that because of his wife's friendly feeling toward Mrs. Roberts he is willing to give the inmate a chance, but he wishes first to have the inmate say whether he wants the type of work offered, as Mr. Jones does not want to "fool around with a bum" if he is unwilling to do hard work. Mr. Jones would hire the inmate as a helper. This would entail loading and unloading grocery and vegetable trucks, opening cases, placing goods on shelves, etc. He would not be required to do any selling. He could be kept fully occupied at tasks such as indicated. He would receive $70 per week and time and a half if he is required to do overtime. Mr. Jones stated he would definitely guarantee employment if the inmate indicates a willingness to work at the job. However, he can hold the position open only until about February 1st. If the inmate is not released by then, he suggests that the parole officer get in touch with him again to discover whether there is still a vacancy. Mr. Jones impressed the officer as being sincere and actually willing to employ the inmate under conditions outlined. The parole officer feels this is a good opportunity for Roberts, and that the employer not only needs an employee but would also cooperate with the officer in keeping him informed of the work habits and attitudes of Roberts while employed. The parole officer approves of this employment offer. APPROVED: Joseph Curry, Supervising Parole Officer Date: 12/26/65

Respectfully submitted, Samuel Kalish, Parole Officer Date: 12/26/65

8 Research on Selection Sociologist Michael Hakeem once undertook to determine whether experienced parole officers could predict which persons under supervision would finish parole successfully and which would have supervision terminated for violation of parole conditions. He made case summaries of two hundred former parolees, exactly half of whom had been returned to prison as violators, the other half having received a "final release," indicating successful completion of the parole term. Hakeem then asked a group of experienced parole officers to read the summaries and classify the cases according to which, in their judgment, would be successful and which would fail on parole. He asked a group of accountants to do the same. Since the outcome of each case was known to Hakeem but not to the officers or accountants, he could measure the efficiency of the predictions against what had actually been the outcomes in the two hundred cases. The parole officers' predictions were slightly worse than the accountants', and neither officers nor accountants did any better than would have resulted from sheer statistical chance. Furthermore, the parole officers showed a systematic bias. Although the summaries had been equally divided between successes and failures, the officers classified more than 50 percent as failures.1 No doubt experience in the correctional field does help a rater to some extent in predicting which offenders will do well under supervision. And social histories are valuable in this connection. But field workers are prone to some degree of subjectivity. And case histories are prepared by ι Michael Hakeem, "Prediction of Parole Outcome from Summaries of Case Histories," Journal of Criminal Law, Criminology and Police Science, Vol. 52, No. 2, July-August 1961, pp. 145-55.

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field workers. It is not surprising, therefore, that research workers have for many years attempted to devise a scientific instrument that would measure objectively, foretell which offenders would and which would not succeed under supervision. Prediction scales, currently employed in several jurisdictions, represent this sort of instrument, fallible though they may be. Daniel Glaser, among others, has presented evidence on the superiority of prediction tables over case study prognoses for differentiating cases into risk groups.2 And J. Douglas Grant flatly asserts: "Any correctional agency not using a prediction procedure to study the effectiveness of its decisions and operations is perpetrating a crime against the taxpayer. This is no longer a merely theoretical argument." Grant holds there is valid research supporting that argument. He makes a number of contentions, including the following: 1. Experience is not enough; systematic self-study is essential to correctional effectiveness. 2. Correctional agencies are spending millions collecting information and millions making decisions, although these functions have had little influence on each other. 3. Systematic study can develop prediction devices which will hold up for at least several y e a r s . . . . 4. The fact that a correctional agency relies on subjective decisions rather than on statistical formulas in no way excuses it f r o m accountability for the effectiveness of its decisions. A question that should be empirically determined is: Which combinations of information and procedures (including use of subjective decisions) prove most effective? 3

Although Grant's assertions appear to have merit, administrators of correctional systems have for the most part shown little interest in experimenting with prediction scales. As indicated in the preceding chapter, probation departments have been almost completely disinterested. Almost all of the research on scientific selection has focused on parole, but even here, parole boards have not shown much faith in prediction tables. Victor H. Evjen surveyed opinion in the field on this matter in 1961. He asked two questions of parole boards in the fifty states and several other jurisdictions: (1) Have prediction statistics (schedules, ratings, etc. ) ever been used by your Board in the selection of parolees? 2

Daniel Glaser, "Prediction Tables as Accounting Devices for Judges and Parole Boards," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 8, No. 3, July 1962, pp. 239-57. 8 J. Douglas Grant, "It's Time to Start Counting," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 8, No. 3, July 1962, pp. 259-64.

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(2) Does your paroling authority use prediction devices at the present time? If so, please indicate briefly the manner in which they are used. Of the forty-eight states represented in the responses, forty-four had never utilized prediction statistics in parole selection and were not using them at the time. The United States Board of Parole, the New York City Parole Commission, and the paroling authorities of Puerto Rico, Canada, the United States Army, and the District of Columbia also answered "No" to each question. Only Illinois, Ohio, California, and Minnesota had ever used statistical prediction methods. The Colorado parole board was in the process of developing prediction statistics at the time of Evjen's survey.4 Illinois was the first state to make use of prediction tables. Since 1933 a sociologist-actuary at each of that state's major penal institutions has been preparing a prediction report on each eligible inmate, computing the prisoner's statistical chances of making a successful adjustment on parole. Each report carries the statement: "This inmate is in a class in which per cent may be expected to violate the parole agreement." The parole board uses these reports as one of several instrumentalities for reaching decisions. It also reviews sociological, psychiatric, and psychological material, and conducts personal interviews with inmates eligible for parole. THE HISTORY OF PREDICTION TABLES The first table of expectancy rates of parole violation and nonviolation, and the introduction of the scale into actual use in a state parole system, were the work of Ernest W. Burgess, the University of Chicago sociologist, and his associates, Andrew A. Bruce, Alfred J. Harno, and John Landesco.5 They studied a thousand cases in Illinois prisons, analyzing various factors in the backgrounds of those men who were paroled, and relating these factors to parole outcome. Thus, if 80 percent of the cases had Factor A in their backgrounds and succeeded, while 20 percent had the same factor but failed, an inmate with Factor A was deemed, with * Victor H. Evjen, "Current Thinking on Parole Prediction Tables," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 8, No. 3, July 1962, pp. 215-38. 5 Andrew A. Bruce, Ernest W. Burgess, Albert J. Harno, and John Landesco, "A Study of the Indeterminate Sentence and Parole in the State of Illinois," Journal of the American Institute of Criminal Law and Criminology, Vol. IX, N o . 1, Part 2, 1928, pp. 5-306.

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regard to that factor alone, to have an 80 percent chance of succeeding on parole. The assumption was that there was a definite relationship between the number of favorable factors and parole "success." In this first expectancy table, the chances of "success" ran from 98.5 percent for parolees who had sixteen to twenty-one favorable factors in their background to 24 percent for those having only two, three, or four favorable factors. The scale reported on in 1928, was introduced into Illinois correctional institutions in 1933 for the guidance of the parole authority. It represented the first large-scale study of its kind, and for many years served as a model for the development of other prediction tables. Sheldon and Eleanor Glueck reported on one in 500 Criminal Careers,e published in 1930. Other investigators during that decade included Clark Tibbits, George B. Void, and Barkev S. Sanders. Ferris F. Luane, in Illinois, made an important contribution in 1936 when he pointed out that almost all of the background factors in experience tables modeled on the Burgess scale were static, that is, they were not subject to change as a consequence of a correctional institution's treatment program. For instance, an inmate's preincarceration marital status, ethnic origin, work history, and other factors used in prediction would remain the same, no matter what was done to, for, or by the inmate while in the institution. The correctional process, designed to prepare the inmate for return to the free community, played hardly any role in prediction. Luane suggested that prediction tables include a greater measure of the change in the inmate that had been produced within the institution.7 Lloyd Ohlin, in his study of Illinois parole in 1951, made another useful observation. No prediction table, he wrote, should be deemed efficient for an indefinite period. It must be continuously adjusted to changed conditions. Ohlin believed research on prediction should be a continuous process within every parole system using such a scale. The factors and weighting of factors would thereby be readjusted regularly.8 To illustrate: An inmate with a high school diploma was a fairly wellβSheldon Glueck and Eleanor T. Glueck, 500 Criminal Careers (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1930). T Ferris F. Luane, Predicting Criminality (Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University, 1936). 8 Lloyd E. Ohlin, Selection for Parole (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1951).

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educated person in 1930, able to find a satisfying place in the labor market. In 1968, he would be an undereducated individual, what with changes in science and technology. His employment possibilities would be limited, compared with those available to the 1930 graduate. Since employability and employment history are factors in parole prediction, the factor of a high school education would need to be reweighted as between 1930 and 1968. As researchers continued their investigations into prediction, new concepts and procedures were developed. The Gluccks, for example, devised a five-factor "social prediction table" for use outside a parole setting.9 The objective was to identify, at an early age, those children who would become seriously disturbed emotionally, or delinquent, in later years. Another approach is represented by California's "base expectancy tables," which are employed inside correctional institutions as an aid in custodial, vocational, and educational placement of inmates. CURRENT STATUS OF PREDICTION SCALES There is, we have indicated, reason to believe that prediction scales can be useful in predicting behavior. Parole violations dropped to a low of 26 percent from a high of 57 percent when a predictive instrument came into use in Illinois. Of course, were we to attribute the decline to the use of the tables exclusively, ignoring other possible influences, we might be guilty of the post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy. Release policies might have tightened in those years. Other evaluative devices, used in conjunction with the scales, might have been refined. Nevertheless, evidence is that the prediction table, one type of prognostic instrument, is fairly efficient functionally. The criminologist Walter Reckless goes further: " . . . it does seem . . . that an actuarial method . . . is more efficient . . . than is a prognostic method based on the judgment of board members who are looking into the merits of each case." 10 There is fairly general agreement in the parole field that if prediction tables are to be used at all, they should not be depended upon to the exclusion of other selection procedures, nor should they entirely replace ® A description of the scale and some of its uses will be found in Eleanor T. Glueck, "Identifying Juvenile Delinquents and Neurotics," Menial Hygiene, Vol. XL, No. 1, January 1956, pp. 24-43. io Walter C. Reckless, The Crime Problem (New York: Appleton-CenturyCrofts, 1955), p. 639.

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dependence upon seasoned correctional personnel. Thus, T. C. Esselstyn, now Professor of Sociology, formerly an administrator in the probationparole field, asserts: "Prediction devices and scores should never be used alone. Prediction instruments are an aid to judgment, not a substitute for judgment." 11 Prediction tables may someday replace the human judgments of parole board members (and possibly judges sind probation workers), but if this is to be so, the tables will need to be further refined. Meantime, we may assess them as follows: 1. If they are useful at all, and they seem to be, they should be useful throughout the correctional system, in probation, institutions, and parole. 2. They need to be updated continuously, to take into account relevant changes in the social environment. 3. Prediction tables are especially useful when they give consideration to factors which a decisionmaker may overlook. It is difficult for the decisionmaker to keep all of the relevant factors of a case in mind. Apportioning weights to each factor cannot be done satisfactorily without statistical techniques. 4. Actuarial scales can help the decisionmaker avoid errors in judgment. He can weigh his judgment in a case against the "judgment" of the prediction score. 5. But the tables themselves may lead to error. They are based on studies of groups, and may not be applicable to a given defendant or prisoner. 6. It is difficult, and sometimes impossible, to determine whether a given factor exists in a subject's background. Certain highly important items, such as an inmate's attitudes on particular subjects, may be impossible to gauge. How is it to be ascertained beyond reasonable doubt whether an inmate really wants to be law-abiding on the outside? How are we to know whether he really has forgiven his wife's infidelity, as he says, or intends to take revenge the day he is paroled? 7. Some factors are fortuitous. Possession of a weapon in the commission of a robbery might be scored as a negative item, decreasing the owner's statistical chance of nonrecidivism. Yet the individual concerned il Quoted in Victor H. Evjen, "Current Thinking on Parole Prediction Tables," at p. 227.

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might not have been caught with a gun because he had his codefendant hold it at the last moment. Or he might have had one because his codefendant gave it to him a moment before the robbery. 8. One of the greatest shortcomings appears to be that while the tables rate the past and present, they cannot do much about rating the immediate future. What measurement device can evaluate such intangibles as the effect on the newly released parolee if he finds his job offer is not bonafide? Who can place a plus or minus value on the personality of the parole officer who will take the released man's arrival report? Who can measure the effect upon a particular man of discovering that his wife intends to divorce him, but had not so informed him when he was incarcerated? Suppose the parolee finds himself in a personality clash with his supervising officer? Suppose he discovers his children want nothing to do with him? We have not yet found a way of predicting the possibilities of such eventualities or surmising the part they will play in recidivism or nonrecidivism. 9. People are not digits, and their behavior or potential behavior cannot be entirely expressed by a digit. Therefore, the decisionmaker will do well to ignore the prediction score in an individual case when occasion seems to warrant. The decisionmaker's "intuition" and educated hunch may tell him that, regardless of the statistical score, the person concerned ought to be treated thus and so. At times he must consider community feeling, no matter what an individual's score. He may decide that although an inmate shows a high potential for readjustment on the outside, he should not be released at that time because of the adverse reaction it would produce in the community, a reaction that would harm the prisoner as well as the releasing authority. 10. The tables are directed at one objective, as a rule, that of reducing recidivism. "Success" on parole or probation is defined in terms of the one criterion—nonrecidivism. It is an essential criterion, but decisionmakers need other information as well, most particularly a statistical indicator of the extent to which the subject has and is ready to use potentialities to become socially adjusted in all ways, not merely with respect to obeying the law. To date, prediction tables do not measure this as effectively as we would like, if for no other reason than that there is lack of agreement as to what constitutes a socially well-adjusted individual.

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Prediction tables and other criminological research offer useful indications as to which offenders make suitable risks for release into the free community. 1. The younger the offender, the less his chance of successful completion of probation or parole, all else being equal. (As indicated, a "successful" history is usually defined in the research as nonrecidivism to delinquency or crime or to general violation of the conditions of probation and parole.) Everybody is young before he is old. Do the studies suggest that youth is an affliction, that its possessor should be ineligible for probation or parole? Of course not. Allied with constructive factors, youthfu'ness offers hope of readjustment before habits become too firmly rooted. Allied with destructive elements, however, it may spell recidivism, and is likely to do so more frequently than in instances where an older person is concerned, all other factors being equal. The Gluecks noted this. They found a high failure rate among their youthful offenders. It persisted until maturity set in. Then recidivism tended to have run its course. Maturation in itself, they concluded, aids in the process of personal stabilization. To say that youthfulness is conducive to recidivism is equivalent to asserting that a young person must mature in order to achieve his optimum judgment and stability.12 2. More significant than age alone is the age at onset of delinquency or criminality. Research indicates that the person who begins his illegal behavior early in life is less likely to succeed on probation or parole than one who commits his first offense at about age thirty or over. In his study of federal prison releases Glaser found that the younger an inmate was when first arrested, convicted, or confined for any crime, the more likely he is to continue in crime.13 3. The earlier an offender of any age left home, the more likely he is to continue in crime, all else equal. One of the most recent studies covering this factor found that the post-release failure rate of federal prisoners who left homes or foster homes for six months or more at age fourteen or under was 50 percent. It was 40 percent for those who left at age 12 Sheldon and Eleanor T. Glueck, 500 Criminal Careers. 13 Daniel Glaser, The Effectiveness of a Prison and Parole System olis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1964), p. 37.

(Indianap-

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fifteen, and the failure rate declined progressively until it stood at 25 percent, for persons who left home at ages 20-21. 14 4. The older a man is when released from prison, the less likely he is to return to crime. Glaser found that the failure rate of his study group declined somewhat for each successive age group, from a high of 51 percent for those eighteen or nineteen years old at release from federal prisons, to a low of 25 percent for those in their forties when released.15 Other studies similarly found a declining recidivism with increasing age. There is also some evidence that as age at release goes up, the probability increases that any further law violation will be a misdemeanor rather than a felony. 5. Female prisoners violate parole less often than male, although the differences are not marked in some of the studies. Probation studies come to a like conclusion. 6. Marital status is related to outcome. The married individual, living with his spouse, is a better statistical risk than one who is single, separated, divorced, or widowed, according to most of the studies covering this factor. However, individual circumstances play a part in determining outcome. Thus, the Gluecks found that although married persons on parole succeed more frequently than persons of any other marital status, those who are compatibly married succeed more often than those who are incompatibly married.16 Speaking of criminal behavior generally rather than recidivism specifically, Robert G. Caldwell comments: At present it cannot be maintained that marriage, of itself, increases or decreases the possibility of criminal behavior. Whether a marriage will exert a strengthening and stabilizing or a disintegrating and demoralizing influence in the life of an individual will depend entirely on the circumstances of the particular case and especially on the personalities of the marriage partners."17

7. Recidivism breeds recidivism. The offender with a long record of arrests and convictions is a less favorable risk than the first offender, a fact judges and parole boards suspected before research confirmed their educated guess. Prediction tables show that first and occasional offenders are better risks than inveterates. Authorities, then, have substantiation for the view that the first offender should be favored over the habitual for probation and parole, all else equal. It must never be forgotten, however, 15 14 Ibid., p. 40. Ibid., pp. 36-37. ie Sheldon Glueck and Eleanor T. Glueck, 500 Criminal Careers, p. 269. " Robert G. Caldwell, Criminology, Second Edition (New York: Ronald Press, 1965), pp. 266-67.

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regarding this or any other factor, that individual exceptions to research conclusions will always exist. 8. Statistically, race is a factor in arrest and conviction for crime, but probably no statistics are as valueless as those dealing with this subject. Race is itself a categoric risk. To be a Negro, for example, renders one more susceptible to arrest, conviction, and incarceration in many sections of the country than is the case for Caucasoids. Prejudice, if it exists, is not the only factor involved. Variables that cannot be ruled out or properly weighted include enforcement policies, attitudes of police and judges, and social conditions generally, in given locales. The figures do show that Negroes are recorded as committing a disproportionate number of crimes per capita, but the statistics mean nothing unless we know what it is impossible to know—the degree of categoric risk involved in being a Negro. With this precautionary word, let us summarize research on race and recidivism, for what it may or may not be worth. After surveying a number of studies on this subject, Daniel Glaser and Vincent O'Leary write: Although Negroes in the United States have a higher rate of arrest, conviction, and imprisonment for crimes than whites, most tabulations we have encountered find little marked or consistent differences in the parole violation rates of the two groups. . . . It is probable that the higher crime rates among Negroes occur largely because Negroes, more often than whites, experience conditions associated with high crime rates in all racial groups. These conditions include low income, high unemployment, low level of education, and residence in slum areas which have long had high crime rates. These conditions conducive to high crime rates usually are also associated with high parole violation rates. The fact that Negro parole violation rates are not higher than those of whites, therefore, is somewhat puzzling. It may reflect more careful selection of Negroes for parole than of whites, or more frequent institutionalization of unadvanced offenders among Negroes than among whites.18 Glaser and O'Leary further report that in California, where the largest ethnic minority consists of persons of Mexican descent, these individuals have a violation rate about the same as that of whites and Negroes. American Indians generally have an average or somewhat higher than average parole violation rate. Japanese and Chinese are 18 Daniel Glaser and Vincent O'Leary, Personal Characteristics and Parole Outcome (Washington, D. C.: U. S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, 1966), pp. 18-19.

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infrequently found in correctional institutions. In California, where they are most numerous, they have a violation rate below that of other parolees. Glaser and O'Leary comment: "This probably reflects the closeknit community and family support which they receive." 18 Glaser and O'Leary conclude: "In general, the evidence on race and nationality as a factor in the evaluation of parolees suggests that it is not of much predictive utility in itself." 20 With few exceptions, research workers dealing with the subject agree. 9. Intelligence, taken by itself, has little relation to parole violation or recidivism rates. The same seems true of probation rates. The very bright, the intellectually average, and the dull appear about equally successful on probation and parole. If there is any difference, it is in connection with the feeble-minded, who, in some studies, show up more favorably than the average and above-average. 10. The findings on education as a predictive factor are contradictory. The Gluecks discovered no demonstrable difference between the poorly and the better educated person in so far as parole outcome was concerned. But those in their study group who did well on probation had more schooling than those who did not. 21 How interpret that? Monachesi thought he had indication that the best probation risks were those with no education, those who had completed no more than the first to the fourth grade—and those who had finished college.22 11. Most research on the subject indicates that employment habits prior to conviction are high'y predictive where adults are concerned. The individual with good working habits who has been fairly regularly employed and who has a job upon coming under supervision is a better risk than one whose history shows chronic unemployment or only sporadic employment, and one who has no job at the time he begins his probation or parole period. A very old report is still worth quoting because it represents one of the few nationwide studies on this subject, covering a very large sample. This study, sponsored by the United States Attorney General, found that of 34 ( 674 parolees employed at the time of original arrest, 23 percent violated parole, while of 25,379 not so emp'.oyed, 36 percent became parole 1» Ibid., p. 20. 20 Ibid., p. 20. 2i Sheldon Glueck and Eleanor T. Glueck, Criminal Careers in Retrospect (New York: Commonwealth Fund, 1943). Elio D. Monachesi, Prediction Factors in Probation (Hanover, New Hampshire: Sociological Press, 1932).

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violators. And of 7,663 parolees who were unemployed throughout their parole period, 53 percent became parole violators, while of 22,753 who were working during the parole period, only 17 percent violated the terms of their parole. Still further, offenders unemployed all of the time they were on parole were more likely to violate by committing a new offense while under supervision than offenders who were employed throughout the parole period. And partially employed parolees were more likely to succeed on parole than those who were altogether unemployed, and less likely to finish parole satisfactorily than parolees employed full time. The report comments: "On the whole the results of the analyses . . . on employment indicate that the emphasis placed upon employment by paroling authorities is entirely warranted." 23 With some exceptions, more recent research sustains these findings. Ohlin determined that the category "inadequate parole job" in the prediction tables used in Illinois had the highest violation rate of any singlefactor prediction category used for adult offenders.24 In order to study the relation between employment stability and criminal behavior, investigators examined the work records of 1,157 offenders committed to adult correctional institutions in the State of Washington in fiscal 1962. About half, 51.4 percent, were unemployed, or employed less than one-fourth of the time in the two years immediately preceding incarceration. Persons with prior felony offenses had more unstable work records than first offenders. The unemployment rate among offenders, 12 percent, was twice the rate for the male civilian labor force in the State of Washington, 6 percent.25 12. Conduct in the institution foreshadows outcome on parole. The inmate who behaves inside is more likely to do so on the outside than is the prisoner who chalks up a bad institutional record. However, the evidence on this score is not altogether conclusive. And here, especially, is a factor in prediction that must be dealt with cautiously. Like all other actuarial indicators, this one is derived from studies of groups of inmates. Taken as a group, prisoners who misbehave are more likely to violate parole on the outside than are those who obey the rules. But the fact of 23 United States Attorney General, Survey of Release Procedures, Vol. II (Washington, D. C.: U. S. Department of Justice, 1939), pp. 442-55. 24 Lloyd E. Ohlin, Selection for Parole: A Manual for Parole Prediction (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1951). 25 State of Washington, Department of Institutions, Section on Research and Program Analysis, Research Review, No. 10, October 1963, pp. 29-52.

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good or unsatisfactory conduct in an institution, taken entirely at face value, can be misleading. A youthful first offender with considerable potentiality for growth and readjustment may violate regulations because he is unaccustomed to his environment and upset by it. His conduct record would look bad on paper but might really mean that he is better adjusted to, and able to live in, a normal environment. A seasoned habitual offender, on the other hand, "knowing the ropes" and how to "keep your nose clean," may be better adjusted to prison existence than to life outside. "Knowing the ropes," he may be wise to ways of violating rules without being detected. Or he may actually "keep his nose clean," because obeying prison regulations is neither new nor upsetting to him. His conduct record will look good. 13. It makes little difference whether a prisoner is country- or citybred, so far as parole outcome is concerned. What does matter is whether, relatively late in life, the offender is transplanted. Clark reports on a study of 9,444 prisoners who were paroled from the Menard and Joliet branches of the Illinois State Penitentiary. Those sent to a community roughly the same size as the one from which they came had a lower violation rate than inmates paroled to a community of a radically different size. The assumption is that it is easier to adjust in a familiar than in an unfamiliar milieu. 26 14. The type of offense committed bears a relationship to recidivismnonrecidivism. One of the least favorable crimes, in terms of probability of parole violation, is escape from prison. The category rates high everywhere in this respect, and in some states offenders sentenced for this offense have the highest violation rate of any offense category. Excluding escape, the most recidivistic category consists of crimes against property (economic offenses) not involving violence. These offenses fall into two major subcategories: illegal service and predatory crimes. Illegal service crimes are economically motivated offenses in connection with which no person clearly considers himself a victim. Rather, the persons with whom the criminals deal are his customers. Examples of offenses in this classification are the sale of narcotics, illicit alcoholic beverages, and stolen goods. Also, the provision of illegal gambling and prostitution services. Predatory crimes consist of offenses that involve 2« Robert E. Clark, "Size of Parole Community, as Related to Parole Outcome," American Journal of Sociology, Vol. LVII (July 1951), pp. 43-47.

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taking a victim's property by stealth or deceit. Examples: larceny, burglary, auto theft, and forgery. Of these, the highest risk for recidivism is auto theft. Other types of theft include shoplifting, removing objects from parked cars, picking pockets, stealing goods from places of employment, and many other varieties of stealing. Intermediate in recidivism rates are robbery, kidnapping, and the illegal possession, use, and purchase of narcotic drugs. There is some indication that narcotics violators have very high violation rates when they are paroled to neighborhoods where narcotics usage is extensive, but that they have average or below average violation rates elsewhere. Offenses associated with the lowest violation rates on parole are those which least often serve as vocations. They are most likely to be crimes associated with unusual circumstances in the offender's life. In this classification are homicide and rape. 15. We do not know the full meaning of it, but studies suggest that the higher the socioeconomic status of a probationer's or parolee's family, the more likely he is to succeed under supervision. 16. Finally, of all of the gross characteristics available for classification of prisoners, those most closely related to parole outcome are age and criminal record.

9 Supervision in Probation and Parole: Casework The selective function of probation and parole completed, there begins the period of supervision and treatment, although generally the term "supervision" is used to denote both activities. What are the supervision functions of a probation or parole agency? They are two: Protecting the community and helping individuals under care. Each function is inextricably bound up with the other. The officer wants to safeguard society against the potential recidivist. At the same time, he hopes to help the probationer or parolee become law-abiding and stable. He removes from the community those who are an immediate jeopardy. But the most effective community protection is that which results from change within the offender, so that he no longer wants to aggress against society. How do we help? At least theoretically, we are past that period when we were not at all concerned with helping offenders, only with condemning and punishing them, thus presumably deterring recidivism. Few of us today would accept the dictum of Sir James Stephen, advanced in 1883: I think it highly desirable that criminals should be hated, that the punishment inflicted on them should be so contrived as to give expression to that hatred, and to justify it so far as the public provision of means for expressing and gratifying a healthy natural sentiment can justify and encourage it. 1 1 Quoted by Sol Rubin, Henry Weihofen, George Edwards, and Simon Rosenzwieg, The Law of Criminal Correction (St. Paul, Minnesota: West Publishing Co., 1963), pp. 654-55.

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True, even in the twentieth century, some would agree with J. Edgar Hoover, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, that "A criminal should be regarded with utter revulsion . . . " 2 and treated accordingly, but such sentiments began to decline a hundred years ago, with the advent of humanitarianism. Scientifically oriented penologists of the present century are of the opinion that our best interests will be served, not by hating offenders or regarding them with revulsion, but by preventing criminality and helping those already criminally inclined to become law-abiding. Punishment as an end in itself is recognized as selfdefeating. Rehabilitation is the aim, not punishment per se; individualization of offenders for the purpose of helping them adjust, not mass treatment for the purpose of degrading law violators. We confess we do not know as much as we should like to know in order to further this end. We do not know enough yet about the mainsprings of human behavior or how to help antisocial individuals become resocialized. Charles H. Shireman, of the School of Social Service Administration, University of Chicago, remarks: We do treat in corrections, and we often treat successfully. But in all honesty we are forced to admit that much of our work rests upon no organized treatment theory at all, or upon the assumptions still only partially tested, or, sometimes, upon little more than pious hope. We do not yet have available to aid us in our work a systematic body of theory and knowledge which can be tested, built upon, added to, and taught.3 But we do our best, and in probation and parole this means, ideally, that we employ social work for the purpose of helping people. Social work is a field of practice. It uses as primary methods, social casework, social group work, and community welfare organization. Of these, casework is used most extensively in probation and parole, but the other methods are also employed to greater or lesser extent. We said that "ideally" the treatment of choice is social work. The statement bespeaks the already acknowledged bias of this particular writer. Ideally, then, if you accept the bias of this volume, probation and parole are social work. Social workers, we said, use three primary methods of helping. All of those who satisfy the optimum requirements 2 J. Edgar Hoover, Persons in Hiding (Boston: Little, Brown, 1938), p. 314. 3 Charles H. Shireman, "Casework in Probation and Parole: Some Considerations in Diagnosis and Treatment," Federal Probation, Vol. XXVII, No. 2, June 1963, pp. 51-57.

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qualifying them as trained social workers 4 are theoretically competent to employ any or all of these methods, having received generic education and supervised field training in social work. If they specialize, it is by choice or the function of the agency with which they are connected. The primary methods overlap to a considerable degree. Moreover, increasingly the methods are used in combination, particularly where social casework and social group work are concerned. An agency devoted primarily to casework may also employ social group work procedures, as when a family casework agency counsels a man and wife individually and also has them attend group sessions with other married couples. A social group work agency, such as a settlement house, often employs casework in certain aspects of its program. The appropriately trained probation or parole officer, then, should be equipped to utilize all of the social work methods, as occasion requires. This chapter focuses particularly on the casework method.

SOME DEFINITIONS It is time we defined some terms. Social work is the body of knowledge, method, and skill employed by appropriately educated and trained workers in administering social services and developing social welfare programs. Social casework is a method by which a social worker, through a relationship which is largely one-to-one (worker and client), brings about mutual interaction between himself and client, hopefully to effect in the client an adjustment to his social and psychological situation that will permit him to Uve more comfortably with himself and among others. It has been aptly stated: "The nucleus of the casework event is this: A person with a problem comes to a place where a professional representative helps him by a given process." 5 For example: Parolee Everett is disturbed because, having no vocational skills, he has never been able to support his family adequately, this resulting in serious marital difficulties in his home. The person with a problem (Everett) comes to a place (the parole agency) where a professional representative (the parole * As will be developed in a later chapter, this calls for a two-year master's degree from an accredited graduate school of social work. 5 Helen Harris Perlman, Social Casework, a Problem-solving Process (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1957), p. 4.

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officer) engages Everett in a process which is based largely on an officerparolee relationship, for the purpose of helping Everett solve his problem. Social group work is a method by which a social worker, through a relationship which is largely one-to-group (worker and individuals who conceive of themselves as a group), engages individual members, and the group as a social unit, in a relationship with the worker for the purpose of helping them use group experience to achieve their individual and group objectives, within the setting of a social service agency or program. For example: Hilda, an elderly widow on probation, is lonely, wou'd like to socialize with other individuals about her age. Her probation officer helps her join a Senior Citizen club that meets in a community center. The center's social group worker meets with the club, helps the individual members use themselves effectively in the group, and aids the group in accomplishing its objectives as a group. Here, you will note, the nucleus of the group work event is identical with that of the casework event. A person with a problem comes to a place, in this instance, the community center, where a professional representative helps her by a given process. Ruth Elizabeth Smalley explains: What differentiates social group work from social casework as method is not its purpose for individuals (which, in both cases, is to further capacity for personal fulfillment and social functioning) but (1) its additional purpose, which in group-serving agencies is to further the group's accomplishment of a social purpose, as a group, and (2) the configuration of relationships through which its purpose is realized—with all the complexity of relation of group members to each other, to the group as a whole, and to the worker and worker's relation in turn to each and all. In both casework and group work a relationship, of which the worker is a part, is the medium through which the process is carried on. . . . It is noteworthy that in a one-to-one relationship, the worker is not part of the "social situation" which is the focus of the concern. In group work, he is, since he is part of the life of the group. 8

Community welfare organization is a method by which a social worker, through a professional relationship which is largely one-to-community (worker and the community at large), engages the community, as well as its several parts—individuals, groups, organizations, programs—in a relationship with the worker and among each other, with the objective of furthering the community's welfare in given respects. «Ruth Elizabeth Smalley, Theory For Social Work Practice (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967), pp. 34-35.

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Many parolees under the supervision of officer Tomkins are unable to get needed mental health service because the community lacks enough clinical facilities. Tomkins discusses his concern with the director of the Community Health and Welfare Council. The director, whose work is largely in the area of community welfare organization, sets up meetings of community leaders, including social workers, ministers, doctors, educators, and public officials. They offer their cooperation in an effort to bring more mental health service to the community. Serving as an ad hoc committee, these influential individuals enlist other lay and professional people, in order to get broad representation of persons and agencies interested in finding a solution to the problem. Stimulated and guided by the Council's director, and with the use of his professional staff as aids, the committee conducts a survey to determine how many units of mental health service are needed if all of those requiring it are to receive it promptly; how many units are currently available; and the difference between units required and units available. Armed with this information, the civic leaders, guided and assisted by the Council director, mobilize community action, secure the funds and personnel needed to augment the mental health services in that area. Here, a member of a community who had a problem (the parole officer) went to a place (the community welfare organization agency) where a professional representative (the community organization worker) mobilized a group of similarly concerned people and helped them solve their common problem. The primary methods of social work, we said, are social casework, social group work, and community organization. Involved in these methods are a process and a skill. Smalley defines process as having to do with the nature of the interacting flow which results from the use of the specific method. The use of the casework method leads to the casework process in which worker and client are mutually engaged. So with each of the social work methods. The use of each by the worker in relationship with the "other" leads to a characteristic process marked by engagement in movement toward a mutually affirmed purpose as that purpose finds expression in a specific program or service. 7

Thus, the worker in a family counseling agency, dealing with a client seeking help in solving a family problem, employs the casework method τ Ibid., pp. 16-17.

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in such a way as to set in motion a process by which the client is led to examine his problem and move in the direction of coping with it realistically. In order to make effective use of a social work method to activate a process, the helping person must have professional skills. Skill refers to the social worker's ability to use method to further a process directed at accomplishing a given purpose, that purpose being within the purview of the social agency's program or service. Thus, the family agency worker used a method (casework) to further a process (of onward movement toward solution of a problem) by calling into play certain skills calculated to accomplish that objective.

T H E CASEWORK M E T H O D IN CORRECTIONS Neither a social work method nor the skills connected with it can be imparted in a book. Theory and practice must be learned at much the same time, as the graduate school student takes the theory he learned in class into the field for his supervised work in an agency, then brings back to class new insights thus derived, enabling him to enrich his theoretical understanding further. Theory and practice go together in social work. Theory guides practice and practice refines theory. All we can do in this text is to present some elementary concepts and principles that can be useful to the correctional worker by giving him some orientation and perspective. They will not, of themselves, make him a social worker. What is the purpose of the casework method? The objective is to help individuals solve problems, so that they may function more effectively and contentedly. The knowledge on which casework method is based is derivative in part. Casework borrows from biology, anthropology, sociology, psychology, psychiatry, and other disciplines. Out of its own practice, casework develops theory which is more than the sum of its borrowings. Fundamentally, there are two approaches to casework treatment in probation and parole. The environment may be manipulated in the interest of the individual; and the individual may be treated so that he may more effectively cope with his environment. Actually, of course, no dichotomy exists. The two approaches are not mutually exclusive.

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Environment fashions personality and personality changes environment. However, the probation or parole officer may, at a given time, be addressing himself primarily to environmental or personal aspects of a case. From another point of departure, casework may be said to involve two problem-solving procedures: the rendering of concrete services, such as furnishing financial assistance, and helping people solve inter- and intrapersonal problems, as when a woman who is emotionally disturbed because her marriage has failed is helped to adjust to her changed circumstances. Roughly, we are distinguishing here between the tangible and intangible, the sociological and the psychological approach. Manipulating the environment in the interest of the person under care, the rendering of concrete services, these are indispensable in probation and parole. Many individuals under supervision committed their offenses when no longer able to cope with environmental pressures. Wisely offered aid—a job, a place to sleep—may make the environment livable, and estop recidivism. Every man has his breaking point. No amount of inner, psychological fortification will suffice if the environment exerts enough adverse pressure. On the other hand, some problems will not be resolved by the rendering of concrete services. The psychological approach is indicated, but only if the worker is equipped to employ it. As new psychological knowledge emerged, social workers took note, as far back as the 1930s, that much of what was accomplished between patient and therapist occurred because the psychiatrist was a listener. "He did not do anything in particular to his patient. Instead he followed the lead taken by his patient and tried to see what he could do to help the patient help himself. . . . The psychoanalysts all listened while their patients talked, and in talking there was therapy." 8 Caseworkers set out to apply this to their own practice. They became interested in discovering how the client saw a situation. This was more important at times than knowing what the situation was like to an objective observer. If a woman declared her husband was unfaithful, the question was not, "Is this true?" so much as, "True or not, how does the client feel about it?" More and more, caseworkers did their work in the office, as did psychiatrists. They became listeners rather than doers. They were more than sounding 8 Herbert H. Aptekar, The Dynamics of Casework and Counseling (New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1955), p. 21.

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boards, however. They channeled discussion and introspection by a judicious word or gesture, or by directing a question at the client calculated to focus attention upon a particular subject or consideration. This understanding of the therapeutic uses of educated listening can be of service to probation and parole officers. The nature of their work being what it is, they will continue to go into the field, and to render concrete services, but they need also to be interested in and sensitive to what their charges have to say. They must encourage them to reveal their feelings and themselves in the treatment relationship. Two dominant psychological schools of thought have emerged in social work practice, the diagnostic, heavily influenced by Sigmund Freud, and the functional, which leans on Otto Rank a good deal. There would be little purpose in examining these schools of thought in detail. Nor is there much point in arguing the relative merits of the two. An eclectic spirit has emerged in all of social work, suggesting that there are useful principles to be derived from both functionalists and diagnostic workers. Particularly in corrections, where most staff members do not have the highly specialized training required for functional or diagnostic casework, an eclectic orientation is indicated. The concepts of both schools of thought can orient the thinking of the probation or parole officer, even when he wisely eschews procedures in which he is not specifically trained. Freudian insights into the ego, superego, id, the unconscious, ambivalence, are useful in all agency settings. Rankian concepts of the will, and the importance of focusing on agency function, can also be put to use. And manipulation of the environment definitely has a place in the eclectic approach. From the eclectic point of view, then, let us apply casework concepts from all schools of thought to the correctional field. 1. The focal concern of probation and parole workers is the social functioning of individuals. How do given persons under care behave in interaction with others? It is the correctional worker's function to help individuals under care satisfy their legitimate needs and aspirations while at the same time remaining responsive to social control, and the requirements of the culture. 2. All behavior is purposive. It is motivated by a drive to achieve certain ends, whatever they may be. These ends are particularized in the individual's mind—he wants a specific job, a particular girl as his wife. But in a broader sense, the ends desired are common to all human beings.

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We all need and strive to gain love, status, financial and emotional security, recognition and response from others, fulfillment of self. Criminal behavior is behavior, hence purposive. It is designed, whether consciously or unconsciously, to satisfy common human needs. We do not sanction the particular method of satisfying those needs, but we must understand that the behavior does have a purpose. 3. One human being can help another. Were this not so, there would be no purpose whatever in the casework relationship. It has been demonstrated that a social worker can influence the thinking, feeling, and behavior of individuals, thus he'ping them solve some of their problems. 4. People can and do change. Their personalities, attitudes, problemsolving potentialities, undergo alterations. Change is often self-induced, but many probationers and parolees need, accept, and benefit from help by treatment workers which encourages desirable change in their condition. 5. Although people can and do change, there is generally some resistance to change, particularly with respect to long established habits of

thought, feeling, and action. Therefore, the probation or parole officer must not demand immediate, far-reaching change. He must be content with any forward movement toward a desired objective, even if it be slow. The one exception would be if there were imminent danger that the person under supervision was about to commit crime. In that case, immediate change of plan would of course be required. But the officer would have to be satisfied to have the firm desire to become law-abiding develop by slower stages. So long as the person under care continues to be engaged, with his officer, in working toward desired change, and so long as there is any movement at all in that direction, the casework process has not failed. 6. People can be helped only if they want help. This is not invariably

the case, but the statement is sound enough as a generalization. A person can be helped if he recognizes he has a problem; sincerely wants to do something about it; feels he cannot do it alone; asks for help; is intellectually and emotionally capable of benefiting from such help; and actively cooperates in the treatment process. Parole Officer Harrigan had under his supervision a highly intelligent man, Dr. Francis, who had been convicted of illegally performing abortions. Francis frankly admitted being homosexual. Harrigan spent many hours trying to get the doctor to admit that this condition would seriously impair

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his usefulness should he be readmitted to practice. Francis denied this, once remarking, "A doctor always divorces personal feelings from professional practice. I'm no different from the heterosexual physician who examines a woman patient." The parole officer urged that, regardless of the doctor's feelings about implications for practice, he ought to take psychiatric treatment because his personal life would be happier if he rid himself of his homosexual urges. To this, Francis retorted, "I'm happy in my present condition. I understand it, don't fight it, and I control it. I have never shown an interest in any man who was not already a homosexual."

Actually, perhaps the parole officer was pressing too hard. Possibly Dr. Francis was as well adjusted as he would be in any other circumstances. Psychiatric treatment is rarely successful where homosexuals are concerned, even when they do give themselves to it. Conceivably, however, treatment might have benefited Dr. Francis. The parole officer was operating on that premise. Had he succeeded in getting the doctor to recognize his homosexuality as a problem, the necessary elements for treatment might have been progressively set up. Under the circumstances, however, it would have been foolhardy for a caseworker or a psychiatrist to bludgeon his way into a putative treatment relationship. The doctor felt no travail. He did not agree he had a problem. He felt comfortable as he was. 7. The basic tool of casework is the interview. Treatment "happens" in the interview, which is the most important tool of the caseworker. Good interviewing requires proper temperament, and the skill that comes from careful attention to, and experience in, the interview procedure. These procedures can be learned. 8. Personality is precious. The interviewer capable of playing a helping role is that individual who sincerely feels that human personality is precious, that the dignity of man must be maintained and reinforced if he is to be able to accept needed help. No matter what a probationer or parolee has been or done, he is entitled to respect as a human being. Demeaning or degrading him never furthers casework goals. The officer's demeanor in speaking with persons under supervision reveals whether he does or does not fully accept this premise, and the probationer or parolee is not deceived by words. He cuts through them, knows whether his essential self is respected. The officer can be firm without being rude. To treat an ex-offender as less than

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human is to demonstrate that the worker has failed to understand his function or cannot adequately perform it. 9. The client must be accepted where he stands. Within the limits of agency function, the officer needs to be an accepting individual. He will not countenance or condone certain behavior, and yet he is accepting. Peters, a tough-spoken, unlettered man of 50, had some thirty arrests on his record, two of them leading to conviction for robbery. Paroled, he made his arrival report to officer Cannon, who explained the rules and regulations. Peters indicated he understood them, but remarked: "I'll do what you tell me, because I've got to, I want to make my parole." He was saying that he did not want to comply but would do so, perforce. When the officer asked if Peters did not believe the conditions laid down would help him, he replied in a disgusted negative. "Look!" he went on. "Everybody's got his own self to look out for. You know that. If you can get away with something, you do. If I can, I do. Everybody's out for hisself." The officer might have expressed disapproval of such cynicism, but what good would it do? The mere expression would not change the parolee's attitude. He was not ready for it. As a caseworker, Cannon would be better advised to remain noncommittal for the time. He would accept the parolee where he stood, because he could not move him forward and would build up resistance if he tried. He might hope to help Peters gain a different view in the future, but meantime Cannon would look upon him as an individual whom he wanted to understand, not to change against his will. He would hold to this position so long as Peters did not give indication he was an unsafe risk. 10. A caseworker is nonjudgmental. Cannon was nonjudgmental. Nonjudgmentalism is a cornerstone of casework. "What!" the reader cries. "Do you mean to say a probation or parole officer must never take a position that this is good or bad?" No, we do not mean that. Even the worker in a private social agency must take a position at times. Suppose a client told him he was going to murder his wife. Assume the caseworker had reason to believe this was no vain boast; the client meant what he said. The agency representative might express horror, might attempt to dissuade the client. But failing that, he would take necessary steps to prevent homicide—it is to be hoped. What, then, do we mean when we say the worker is not judgmental? We mean he does not pass judgment on the client's feelings, so far as the

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professional relationship is concerned. He assesses them, but does not moralize, order, or forbid, in so far as the feelings are concerned. He knows he cannot rule emotions by executive fiat. He accepts them as genuine, for what they are, cooperates with the inevitable, and makes that a beginning point for treatment. He will not legislate feelings, only acts, and then only in given circumstances. Some behavior of parolees and probationers must be regulated. The individual will not be allowed to kill or steal or beat his wife. But, if no imminent danger is foreseen, the officer will adopt no inflexible moralistic stand, if he is wise, about the ex-offender's feelings regarding killing or stealing or beating his wife. Not that the worker has no moral positions. He certainly has, should have, and must have. But to moralize about attitudes strenuously would defeat the aims of treatment, a treatment which will benefit society as much as the man or woman or child under supervision. The officer will probably control the behavioral situation where necessary while working with the individual in hopes the latter will ultimately change his views about killing, stealing, or mayhem. It is one thing to tell a man he must not beat his wife. It is another to insist he must not want to beat her. A further qualification is necessary. A juvenile often lacks the judgment to know what is best for him. Like a parent, the officer may need to be quite directive. To cite an example: Joe, age 15, had been in juvenile court many times, as a runaway and for stealing. Now he was on probation. His father was an alcoholic, his mother preoccupied with outside work, maintaining the household, and caring for five children younger than Joe. In a period of family tension, the boy irascibly reported to the officer that his father had stolen a dollar Joe had earned from his paper route. Joe was going to run off again. The officer did not argue that the home situation was ideal. But he pointed out that growing up entailed learning to adjust to the less-than-ideal. Joe demanded: "What'll you do if I take off?" Promptly, the officer responded: "I'll locate you and lock you up."

Discussing the case with the writer, the officer remarked: "With an adult, I would have taken more of a chance that I could talk him into seeing the danger in his frame of mind. With this particular kid, I couldn't take that chance. I had to lay down the law."

11. Authority is a tool in casework. Happily, the word "authority" no longer sends a shudder through the frame of the correctional worker.

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Earlier he would have been impelled to go on the defensive, to insist that he had to use authority, that its use was sound and constructive. Yet he would have considered the entire subject a bugaboo, because he did not quite understand his own rationale in defending the use of authority. Social workers outside the correctional field made him uneasy. They insisted that casework and authority were inimical. Today, it is the trained caseworkers who insist that authority, properly conceived, far from impeding the casework process, actually is essential to it. When social workers, in and out of corrections, use the word "authority" today they mean something analogous to "reality," the reality situation presented to every one of us. All of us must face reality. We must work in order to eat (unless we are coupon clippers). We wear clothing, even in torrid weather, because the mores are more powerful than we. We stop at a red light because we recognize a stern reality—it is stop or get a traffic citation. All about us, in every area of endeavor, in much of what we do at work or play, we respond to social control, are bound by the discipline of life. Even when we retire for the night we do so under approved conditions. We do not lie naked in a ditch. We do things, even when we prefer not to, because it is more comfortable to conform than to suffer social disapproval or penalty. Most of us bow to the mores and laws of our society. We come to do so willingly, for the most part, and even zealously proclaim this is the way to behave. Would there not be an element of mendacity in allowing probationers and parolees to believe that they are less subject to the authority of life than we? Is it not more wholesome that they understand they have a particular reality which they must face as probationers and parolees? Authority in probation and parole must mean certain things if it is to be intelligently employed: It must not run counter to the reality situation. The officer has both a right and an obligation to insist: "You must obey the law." On the other hand, it is not his function to demand: "You must get a college degree." Authority needs to be exercised dispassionately. The officer invokes not his authority, but society's. He is merely its representative, pointing out the reality of the situation. He is not saying: "Thou shalt not steal." He is asserting: "The law says you must not steal. If you do, it becomes my duty to turn you over to the police, also according to law." The peace

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officer needs to be authoritative in revealing reality rather than authoritarian. The community demands of him that he dispassionately and sensibly enforce the law, not himself. Which brings us to a related point. The correctional worker must be able to accept his own authority. He must not abuse it, but neither must he fear it. He must sincerely believe it is essential in casework. If he cannot accept that premise, he will not use authority effectively. Ultimately, it must be the individual who chooses to accept his reality situation. Acceptance cannot be forced upon him. He alone will determine whether he is going to conform. Society will treat him one way if he does, another if he does not, and that is the reality of that situation. 12. Each social agency has its particular functions and limits. This is a fact helpful to both client and worker. The function of a public assistance agency is to furnish financial aid; it does not offer group therapy. The function of a private family counseling agency is to serve clients who consult the workers concerning family problems; it does not administer public assistance. Not only is a social agency limited in its defined functions, but there are limits on what its workers may do in performing those functions. The social worker in a public assistance agency will not grant aid to a client who is ineligible to receive it under the law. The worker in a private family counseling agency will not allow the client to maneuver her into saying whether the person under care ought to get a divorce, for the responsibility for making that decision must rest with the client. When both the function and limits of the agency are clearly defined for both client and worker, this helps set the stage for treatment. The client knows he is in the right agency. He knows what he can and cannot get from this particular agency. Identification with agency function is psychologically helpful to the worker, as well. He knows what he can do for the client, and is freed to do it to the full extent. He also understands when he has reached the threshold between what he is there to do and what he may not do for the client. Smalley puts it this way: A man works best when he knows what he has to work with, what he is dealing with, what the rules of the game are, what is expected of him, and what he can expect of the other. The beginning of any social work process which operates from a functional base lies . . . in the worker's making clear the given, what the agency service is, under what conditions it is available,

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and with the other making clear what his hopes, wishes, needs, and intent are in relation to which he hopes to use the agency. 9

Let us apply this to probation and parole settings. Treatment is facilitated when both the officer and the person under supervision keep in mind both the functions and the limits of the particular agency. It is the responsibility of the officer to make clear that his agency has certain functions; that it is his obligation and intention to work within the framework of those functions; that the agency's functions are limited in certain respects; and that the officer will abide by those limitations. The officer also needs to clarify the role of the probationer or parolee in this process, what he may expect and what is expected of him. In this manner both the officer and the person under his care may be secure in their understanding of agency function and of the limits that this function necessarily imposes. The individual under supervision wants to know what the peace officer is there to do. He needs to understand what services he may get if he wishes, and what he cannot expect to receive. He must be encouraged to accept that the officer is there to aid him, along certain lines, if he wants help, but that certain limits are imposed upon both in this regard. Service will have to terminate if the individual gives evidence of recidivism. Whatever else the officer is there to do, he operates within that limitation—he is charged with protecting the community. Giving the former offender an understanding of the agency's functions and limits thus helps him crystallize his thinking as to what he must do. It makes clear to him that beyond the "musts," he may accept or reject the agency's proffered services. If he conducts himself properly he may seek assistance or not in connection with other problems. That is up to him. The officer serves an individual if he is able to make a certain logic clear. The agency had less to do with the offender's coming to it than that person did himself. He so acted as to bring upon himself a sanction— conviction of a crime, or adjudication into the status of juvenile delinquent. A privilege has been extended to him—conditional liberty. He needs to accept the basic reality of this situation. He must remain lawabiding. The very acceptance is growth of a sort. He then understands he must refrain from certain activities lest they lead him into recidivism. He may not associate with undesirable characters, must live within his means, conduct himself with reasonable discretion and sobriety. He must »Ruth Elizabeth Smalley, Theory for Social Work Practice, p. 116.

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be willing to work, to support his dependents, report to the officer when required, be frank and not mendacious in his dealings with him. The rest is voluntary. He may, after that, decide for himself that he wants help from the officer in attacking some problem. He will get it. He may choose to wrestle with the problem himself or go elsewhere for professional aid. That is his option. Can an individual get casework services under such a definition of function? Yes. Every social agency has its rules of eligibility which the client must accept if he wishes help. That is the reality he must face. A public assistance agency may require he furnish proof that he is without resources, or that he will accept employment if it is found. A family service organization may specify that the client who needs help in resolving an emotional problem must come at stipulated hours, perhaps pay a fee, cooperate in the therapeutic relationship. Probation and parole require that the recipient of service refrain from antisocial acts which may lead to recidivism. Accepting that, the probationer or parolee is eligible for other treatment voluntarily entered into. 13. Early childhood experiences influence later behavior and attitudes. The worker therefore inquires into background, seeking clues to what makes the man today. Much of what John Doe feels today is related to what happened long ago. This has implications for treatment. John was conditioned by a great many experiences. Somewhere along the way he learned to be willing to steal or assault or kill. The early conditioning factors explaining this are useful in planning and proceeding with treatment. 14. Man's behavior is influenced by unconscious as well as conscious motivation. One of Freud's most significant contributions is his elucidation of the role of the unconscious. We act, in part, on the basis of early influences and events which became buried in the unconscious. We are not always aware why we act as we do. Yet we behave that way because the unconscious drives us to it. Understanding what lies buried there helps us understand ourselves better. The caseworker is not equipped to work with the unconscious. That is the function of a psychiatrist, who helps the troubled person bring repressed material into the conscious realm. But the social worker gains understanding of probationers and parolees when he learns the role of the unconscious, that some behavior is symptomatic of what lies buried within the individual's unconscious.

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15. The present and conscious situation is important in treatment too. Freudians emphasize the diagnostic approach, delving into the past to understand the present so that they may contribute to making the client's future happier. Rankians, and practitioners of the functional school of thought in casework, do not deny the power of the unconscious when they assert that immediate facts, situations, and attitudes are also important in determining what the individual will do to solve his problems. Reality therapy, something relatively new on the treatment horizon, is also oriented to the importance of the immediate situation in relation to the attitudes of the individual and his disposition to react to the situation in a given manner. 16. Ambivalence is normative. It is present in much of every person's daily behavior. Every human being is ambivalent about many things. He hates and loves the same person at a given moment. (Henry David Thoreau understood this when he said: "Those whom we can love, we can hate; to others we are indifferent.") The individual wants and does not want something. The ex-offender may like and dislike his officer. He may want to come to him for advice, yet fear to do so. He may hope to get along without committing crime, yet feel compelled to perpetrate at least one more. What are the implications for treatment? The officer can help his charge understand that ambivalence is normal. This may make it easier for him to reveal and examine his ambivalence, to decide which feeling should be allowed to take on greater weight. 17. The caseworker must know himself. A caseworker is as human as the person with whom he deals. He likes and dislikes, in all degrees of intensity. It is not to be expected that, in dealing with probationers and parolees, the officer will always be neutral in his feelings. But the existence of strong feelings concerning some person or situation must not affect his practice. He must understand his own biases and compensate accordingly. The worker who is deeply religious must not let this affect his working relations with an atheist under his supervision. The officer constantly chafing under the goads of a termagant wife (it does happen!) cannot afford to let his feelings about termagants spill over into his casework relations with a termagant. The fact that the caseworker is aware he has certain biases should preclude their being misused. But too many strong biases and problems

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associated with them may render a worker unable to perform satisfactorily. It is a truism of casework that a person in a helping role must have solved his personal problems reasonably well before he can help others solve theirs. 18. Casework involves a relationship. In fact, casework is a relationship. Virginia Robinson explains: "The case work relationship is a reciprocal relationship in which the case worker must accept herself and others equally, in which all of her attitudes toward the client would be such that she would be content to be at the other end of such a relationship herself." 10 This may seem a tall order for a correctional worker who has not himself breached the law. Actually, it is not. Robinson merely means that the worker will treat the person under care with that respect and consideration which he would like shown to him were the roles reversed. What is this casework relationship which is the heart of the helping process? It is more than the business of two people being together in time and place. It is more than pleasant intercommunication. The casework relationship begins when two people, with some common interest, long- or short-term, interact with feeling. The probationer and his officer have a common interest. Both want to see the former "make probation." Relationship leaps from one person to the other at the moment when emotion moves between them. They may both express or invest different or even opposing emotions; or—and this is the situation in casework—one may express or invest emotion, and the other will receive it and be responsive to it. In any case, a charge or current of feeling must be experienced between two persons. Whether this interaction creates a sense of union or antagonism, the two persons are for the time "connected" or "related" to each other. 11

The current of feeling does not run just in one direction. Both persons are concerned in it, both feel it, both contribute to it. Treatment occurs in this sort of give-and-take relationship. In probation and parole, the individual under supervision must be able to believe the officer wants to understand and help. He must feel the worker will not deliberately demean him. He must be secure in the knowledge, gained from experience in the relationship, that the officer 10 Virginia Robinson, A Changing Psychology in Social Case Work (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1930), pp. 115-16. 11 Helen Harris Perlman, Social Casework, A Problem-solving Process, pp. 65-66.

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will not go too far too fast, expect progress before the individual is ready for it. In a paper given before correctional workers, Alice Overton asks: H o w do you establish a relationship with someone who wants no part of you, someone who will resist your efforts to help in ways that will drive you to resist him? You can't start with sweet talk, or with sympathetic listening. The relationship—the tie between you and the offender—is solely a means to help him get with, rather than rebel against, society. It's not an end in itself. . . . From the beginning you must engage him in work that makes sense to him, to you, and to the court. If you can't find a common purpose—an objective you both want—there will be no relationship of meaning. 12

To paraphrase Overton and apply her remarks to both probation and parole: At first, what the officer and the person under care want is likely to be poles apart. The officer wants the individual under supervision to obey the law. That person wants only to get rid of the officer, let us say. The two are together on only one point initially : they both hope to bring this relationship to a close at the earliest possible time. Therefore, the officer can begin by defining the conditions under which the two will be able to part. It will be when the probationer or parolee has satisfactorily completed his period of supervision, or when he has probation or parole revoked. Thereafter, this comprehended, the relationship will be advanced if the officer is open and direct in other matters. But as treatment proceeds, the individual under care is likely to offer stout resistance because he is asked to change. This resistance can be overcome, and the relationship enabled to develop further, if the officer does not regard the resistance as an annoying, frustrating personal rejection of himself. "To be pushed away when you are trying to help is hard to take," observes Overton.13 But it must be taken in stride and understood for what it is, a resistance to change rather than to the officer as such. The relationship will be further enhanced if the officer adopts certain attitudes and procedures. He must respect his client—and whether he does or not comes through to the individual in many ways. We show a lack of respect for probationers and parolees, Overton says, if "we treat them like 'poor sick things' from whom we expect nothing and whom we will not trust with our observations." 14 ι 2 Alice Overton, "Establishing the Relationship," Crime Vol. 11, No. 3, July 1965, pp. 229-38. « Ibid. " Ibid.

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The officer must find some positive aspects in the offender's life, and work with these. "How can you expect the offender to change if you don't see any areas of strength or capacities to make you think change is possible." 15 Overton ends her excellent discussion of the subject of relationship with an injunction that should be borne in mind by anyone in the correctional field. Do not be overwhelmed by the number of ingredients of the beginning relationship, she urges. "If you just have a basic respect for the offender, you need be neither paragons of virtue nor masters of treatment." She quotes clients who have told her: "It isn't so much that they can always help us. If we think they are trying, then we'll try, too." 19. Not all people have problems and not all need help. Every one of us, of course, has what may be called "problems." Most of them are solved without much pain or the uttering of jeremiads. The car breaks down. We must get to the office. We telephone a friend. The problem is solved. But there are other problems, long-lasting, deep-seated, difficult of solution. Not everyone has these. Not even every person on probation or parole needs social work help. Let us not take for granted that because an individual is in such status he ipso jacto requires treatment of some sort. This consideration is all the more relevant when it is recognized that the great majority of probation and parole officers carry staggering caseloads. A classification of cases in terms of treatment needs can alleviate the situation. We attempt such a systematization here. Some probationers and parolees have no pressing discomforts or problems. They need and want nothing of the officer in this respect. They are not serious risks in society, either. The officer need only render routine supervision, keep himself informed of their whereabouts and of their activities in general. He would want to guard against the outside possibility of recidivism. These persons would represent almost "paper" cases. Some persons under supervision have problems which they have not solved. They are aware these exist, are intellectually and emotionally capable of profiting from help, but do not want it. It may be because they believe they can work out these problems by themselves, or perhaps the decision to decline help is due to a desire to hold on to some neurotic pleasure. Perhaps the fear of the pain involved in struggling for a solu18 Ibid.

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tion inhibits the individual. In such cases, the officer may hope to help the person gain sufficient insight and strength to seek a solution. If he succeeds, treatment may then begin. If not, supervision, surveillance, and such manipulative aid as is needed on occasion are about all the officer can undertake. The object is only to see to it that the probationer, or parolee, does not injure others. The officer tries to insure community safety, but he will not invade the personal life of the individual any further. Some individuals have problems calling for treatment, realize it, vaguely or positively feel they want to do something about it, but would be unable to profit from treatment because the roots of the difficulty are too firmly embedded, or the person is intellectually so far below average as to be incapable of taking part in a meaningful worker-client relationship. Here, the most that can be expected is that the officer will be vigilant, will try to forestall recidivism, will offer the former offender needed services involving environmental manipulation. But casework in greater depth is usually out of the question. Some probationers and parolees are troubled by problems, know it, want to do something about the problems, are capable of benefiting from casework treatment, and actively seek it. These are the persons for whom the fullest casework service is intended. They are the individuals who will receive the intensive attention of the officer. They offer the greatest hope of change. They are the group most closely analogous to the clients of private agencies. But regardless of the possibilities or course of the casework relationship, the officer will still recognize his responsibility for community protection. His casework treatment will move along with his community protection endeavors. The probationer or parolees may show progress, but if he manifests symptoms of recidivism, treatment will have to cease in the interest of community safety. Finally, there are individuals who have problems affecting their own and the community's welfare. They may or may not be conscious of the existence of such problems. They may or may not want to come to grips with them. They may or may not be able to profit from treatment. But they all have one thing in common: they are very serious risks. Such cases must be treated primarily, and at times exclusively, as intensive supervision cases, with the emphasis upon supervision, not treatment. We will render society the service of constant vigilance, quick action if revocation becomes essential. The law enforcement function will be paramount.

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Casework services will be available when wanted, but they will not be offered at the cost of relaxation of vigilance. By this systematization, then, cases tend to fall into groups: ( 1 ) those in which casework service is indicated as primary; ( 2 ) those in which the law enforcement function is the first, sometimes the sole consideration; ( 3 ) those cases requiring little more than paper classification and the most routine follow-up. Other caseload differentiations are of course feasible. The New York City office of the state's Division of Parole has classified cases by level of intelligence. One unit of parole officers supervises retarded parolees exclusively. Another unit works with intellectually gifted individuals. California uses a Base Expectancy Scoring Method to predict probable parole success. In certain field districts the Department of Corrections uses this scale as a basis for grouping adult parolees in caseloads according to whether they are high, medium, or low risk cases. 20. The ultimate aim of casework is to bring about strengths in the individual so that he no longer needs casework. The function of the teacher is to prepare the student so that he does not need a teacher—he gains the knowledge and habits of thought enabling him to teach himself. The function of the doctor is to treat the patient so that he no longer needs medical care. The function of the correctional worker is not only to help the probationer or parolee solve his immediate problems, but also to strengthen him so that he is enabled to solve problems thereafter without help. "He that knows himself," said Baltazar Gracián, "knows how to strengthen his weakness . .

10 Supervision in Probation and Parole: Group Work and Community Organization In this chapter we discuss group work and community organization as they are practiced in the correctional field, primarily by probation and parole workers. GROUP WORK Although casework thinking continues to dominate the social work field, it has of late been somewhat deemphasized in favor of group approaches. This might be expected in a period when the nation is witnessing so much group action, in the civil rights movement, the War on Poverty, the student-power thrust, and other phenomena. If emphasis on casework is declining in the socia! work field it is in part because today we are doing more thinking about ways of moving people in groups toward a given objective. Even psychiatrists, who long championed the one-to-one encounter between therapist and patient, are now interested in group therapy, therapeutic communities, gestalt therapy, and other group approaches. As has been indicated, the caseworker involves himself and his client in a one-to-one relationship, whereas the group worker is related to a number of people who come together as a group. There are two broad areas of group work. In one, individuals are enabled to gain satisfaction and self-development through group associations. These associations take place in community centers, settlement houses, and similar agencies.

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One difference between casework and this type of group work is that in the casework setting clients come to the agency seeking help in the solution of personal problems, whereas in the group setting, participants usually come simply for a good time, intellectual stimulation, participation in sports, socialization with congenial people. They do not regard the group worker as a treatment person, even though treatment of a characteristic kind occurs. The second kind of work employing the method is group therapy. Here the group members do have problems. Some may not be fully aware of this, or if they are, may initially resist working on solutions, but they soon learn that the purpose of the group is treatment. The end result of successful group therapy is a sharpening of the members' perceptions of what their problems are, whence they stem, how they might be solved. Treatment flows from the give and take. If there is a professional treatment person, he channels the discussion, pulls the ends together. Like the caseworker, the group therapist is a catalyst rather than a doer, enabling the members of the group to discover what they are like, why, and whether they want to change. Group therapy may be classified according to auspices. It may be conducted by professional people, by laymen, or by a combination of the two. Professionally led group therapy is practiced by social workers, sociologists, psychologists, psychiatrists, and others. Their orientations are somewhat different, but their procedures are much alike, and the objectives of all are identical. We will confine ourselves to a discussion of the use of the group method by social workers, here translated as "correctional workers." Group therapy conducted by laymen is exemplified in such an organization as Alcoholics Anonymous, where alcoholic helps alcoholic. If a professional person is present it is because he, too, is alcoholic and seeking help from fellow alcoholics. Group therapy under the combined auspices of professional and lay people is illustrated in the "therapeutic community." An example is California's Atascadero State Hospital, where one wing houses sex offenders committed under the state's "sexual psychopath" law. They receive individual psychiatric and casework help from professional workers. They also attend group therapy sessions, led by a psychiatrist or psychiatric social worker. Everybody in that institution—patient, nurse, stenographer, maintenance man—is charged with helping patients recover.

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One man sees another, off in a corner, in a depressed mood; the first patient comes over, tries to give the second the courage to continue working on his problems, to prepare himself to leave the hospital a healthy individual. Staff seizes every opportunity to identify those who need moral support at a particular moment. The entire hospital community is "the group" in this situation, and everyone in that hospital is engaged in group therapy. THE GROUP METHOD IN CORRECTIONS

Little use was made of the group method in the correctional field until it got its cue from the military during the Second World War. At that time, group therapy was employed in treating military offenders, individual treatment being considered too costly and time-consuming. It was reported that personality characteristics sometimes appeared modified under group pressures: "The belligerent, overassertive, antisocial rehabilitee is brought into line by his fellows and the asocial, shy, withdrawn person is drawn into the conversation." 1 From military settings, group therapy came into experimental use in civilian prisons and reformatories. Under the guidance of the therapist, prisoners engaged in the highly personal and painful business of discovering, among themselves, why they aggressed against society. In the permissive atmosphere of group sessions, inmates helped each other gain understanding. Criminality and delinquency are social in origin; that is, they develop out of human interaction. It may be reasoned, therefore, that such behavior can be modified if the offender's relations with social groups are modified. Group sessions in institutions are devoted to helping individuals find their way to approved relationships with others in society. Members of the group find socially approved values to replace the disapproved. Parole and probation agencies have been experimenting with group methods in recent years. A rather loose and ambiguous terminology has resulted. The terms, "group therapy," "group counseling," "group guidance," and "guided group interaction" are employed variously and often interchangeably. Almost anything undertaken with more than one individual at a time is likely to be termed "group work" or "group therapy." 1

Joseph Abrahams and Lloyd W. McCorkle, "Group Psychotherapy of Military Offenders," American Journal of Sociology, Vol. LI, March 1946, pp. 455-64.

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And there is a wide difference of opinion in the field as to what qualifies a person to play a role in group therapy. Some hold that psychiatric, psychological, or social work education is a must; others, that only sociologists are equipped for the task; and still others that anybody can assume leadership of a therapy session, regardless of his background. Understandably, therefore, there is little consensus on what principles and concepts should guide the therapist. This writer would suggest the following hypotheses on the requisites of an effective group therapy program : 1. All members of the group must have a common problem, be it alcoholism, drug addiction, a compulsion to commit illegal sex acts, or the perceived stigma of being labeled a criminal. This is their meeting ground; it provides their universe of discourse. 2. The more anguish and anxiety the problem presents, the greater the likelihood that the therapy will "work." The sex offender often has lost his family, his job, his self-respect, and the respect of others. He has suffered contumely, disgrace, degradation. If he comes to the group in a sincere desire to find his way back to self-respect and community acceptance, he may be helped by therapy. 3. The more frightful the alternatives to not entering group therapy, the more likely the individual is to make himself accessible to it and to benefit from it, all else equal. At some point, an alcoholic, say, finally becomes convinced that unless he quits drinking he will become insane or die. The narcotics addict realizes he will destroy himself mentally and physically unless he quits using. The group may show the way to emancipation from the habit. 4. Adequate intelligence is necessary. Although group members need not be brilliant intellectually, an individual in the lower ranges of feeblemindedness is not likely to benefit from therapy. He lacks ability to conceptualize, to gain insights, to generalize from experience. Given a workable group, what is the overriding objective of treatment? Discovery of self. "Man will become better when you show him what he is like," observed Anton Chekov, and that is what the group therapy session is about. Every individual has a conception of self, derived from and in his society. Sociologist Charles Horton Cooley theorized that we learn to see and judge ourselves according to how we imagine others see and judge us. He compared other people to a mirror. The individual gazes into it, notes how others respond to him, and as a result of their

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reactions, develops feelings about himself. That is, he gains a conception of self by reflection. This is what Cooley called "the looking-glass self." In professionally led group therapy, the treatment worker as well as the group members constitute a miniscule society in which each individual may gain a conception of his self by observing how others appraise him. He looks in the "mirror," sees his self reflected in it, and decides whether he iikes what he sees. Consider the "looking-glass" implications of this excerpt from the twelfth professionally led meeting of a group of young offenders, as reported by the Director of the Highfields Project, Hopewell, New Jersey. 2 Pat and Charles started talking about how the group had been silent most of the time the last few meetings. The leader said he had noticed this and wondered if they could think of any reasons why they were unable to talk. Several of the members said it was difficult to "start talking." Frank said the problem was "to get started." Carl said, "This puzzles me. What are we supposed to do in here? So far all I've heard is a lot of bitching or else everyone keeps quite." [Sic] Frank said "You're supposed to talk about your problems." Pat said he wished the group would "get started" because "I want to make some progress and get out of this place." The leader asked the group what they thought Pat needed to learn. Charles said, "I knew him outside and he was pretty lazy. He's not lazy in here but he couldn't keep a job out there. I think that's what he needs." Pat did not say anything, looked at the floor, moved his feet about. The leader asked Bill what he thought about Charles's observations about Pat. Bill replied, "You know what I thought? I thought he was a squealer and they're supposed to be friends and he told about him not working outside." When the leader asked Bill why he felt so strongly about this, he replied, "I don't think anybody ought to say that. I don't want anybody to say anything like that about me. If you want to know those things, I'll tell you. I think the fellows should tell you, not somebody else." Carl said he couldn't see why Bill was making such a fuss about Charles's remark because "he (the leader) could easily find out if he wanted to." Bill again repeated his observation that nobody should squeal. Charles said maybe Bill was afraid "somebody would say that about you." Quite upset and annoyed, Bill said, "I'll tell it myself." He went on to say that he understood why he got into trouble, was positive he wouldn't have the same difficulties on the outside and was positive he was ready for release. The leader said he thought it was interesting that Bill could become so upset about Charles's statement since everybody in the group knew that Pat had difficulty working and he had, in fact, told the group about it on one occasion. - Lloyd W. McCorkle, "Group Therapy in the Treatment of Offenders," Federai Probation, Vol. XVI, December 1952, pp. 22-27.

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All of the boys smiled and the leader asked Pat if he thought Charles was "a squealer" because of what he had said. Pat said he didn't feel that way and went on to say the remark "hurt me a little" but "I think Charles is my best friend." Bill said he didn't think a boy in the group should make remarks of this kind about another boy. The leader asked the group if any of them thought the way Bill felt about things might be related to what the group is able to talk about. Carl said it could be and Frank said, "I don't think telling another guy some of his faults is squealing if you do it in here" and added, "I have trouble talking about my problems." Bill said maybe he would feel differently if "it was one of my old friends." Carl and Bob started to kid Bill about Charles's earlier remarks, that perhaps he was afraid some of the boys might tell him some things he didn't want to hear. Bill became angry and annoyed, complained that everybody should be a "nice guy." He went on to say that if you tell people "their faults," you're not being a "pal of theirs." The leader asked the group if they didn't think Charles was being a good friend of Pat's since he seemed to be trying to help him not only get discharged, but maybe be a little happier after his discharge. All the group members including Bill agreed but Bill said, "I don't think you should say it; the fellows should say it about himself. I'll tell you anything you want to know. I never had any troubles outside. All I did was steal. I told you why I wanted to do that; I wanted to get nice clothes but nobody in my gang steals anymore. I was the only one and now I've stopped." Most of the boys smiled and the leader asked Carl why he was laughing. He replied, "Bill is always telling you he stopped stealing and that he is ready to go home. I don't think you believe him." Bill said he had a feeling that "you don't believe me. Sometimes when I look at you I think you would like to keep me here forever; other times I think you like me." The leader asked if anyone could think of reasons for this. Nobody replied but Bill said, "I guess it's the way you look at me; I don't know. Maybe it's the way you smile." The group was silent for a few minutes. Several of the boys moved restlessly in their seats. Finally Frank said, "Here we go again." Most of the boys laughed at this remark and the leader asked Bob if he could think of any reasons why the group has difficulties either getting started or spending the time arguing and complaining. Bob said, "I know you think I have something to do with it but that's in the past." This surprised the group and when I asked them if they had any idea what Bob was talking about, nobody replied. The leader said that perhaps what Bob wanted to say was that his strong feelings of dislike and resentment for him which Bob had never been able to talk about in the group might have some relation to the problem we were discussing. Several of the boys moved about uneasily in their seats and Bob said, "I think we got that straightened out. I wish you would say did

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and not has feelings of resentment. It's like I said; I resent authority." The leader said he thought all the group recognized this but since they had not been able to talk about it in the past, perhaps some members thought it was a major issue that had to be discussed before they could talk about other things. Several of the boys, Carl, Charles, and Frank nodded their heads in agreement and Bob said, "That was in the past." The leader suggested at the close of the hour that perhaps the group would find it easier to get started now that some of these things were out in the open and were recognized by all. Bob said, "I feel better now that it's out." The leader again pointed out that it is easier to talk about things if they are recognized and accepted by all. EXAMPLES OF GROUP WORK PROJECTS

Group work projects in corrections run the gamut from recreation programs to therapy sessions. An interesting development has been the "detached worker" program, sponsored by correctional as well as private social agencies, depending upon the locale. Whereas the conventional setting of a cultural-recreational program is an institution, with building and grounds, in the detached worker plan the institution comes to the group, so to say. The worker goes into a neighborhood where youths hang out on the streets. He meets them on their own "turf," on their own terms, speaking their language, and hoping to turn their interests and talents from destructive into constructive channels. Another approach is illustrated by the Citizenship Training Group, Incorporated, of Boston. It offers an intramural program for boys who have been placed on probation. Founded some thirty years ago by the Boston juvenile court, it functions much like a Y.M.C.A. in certain respects, providing a club-like atmosphere for the members. The purpose of the program is to provide recreation, athletics, and other activities; to help probation officers gain an understanding of their charges; and to provide the latter with a constructive, socializing experience. The physical premises consist of quarters in a downtown building occupied by the Young Men's Christian Union. There are a gymnasium, library, craft shop, office, and interview and conference rooms. About 15 percent of the boys placed on probation are selected for the program, usually because they are considered in need of very close supervision. Affiliation is not optional with the boy; he is assigned to the program as a condition of probation. He must spend two hours in the downtown headquarters each weekday, after school, for a period of twelve weeks.

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The group is open-end, that is, it does not remain intact throughout the twelve-week period. Some boys enter and some leave during that time. About twenty-five can be accommodated. The daily two-hour stint is spent on educational, recreational, and creative activities. Also on medical and psychological testing, casework interviews with the boys, and group discussion. After a boy has attended for twelve weeks, he is returned to the juvenile court for disposition. Usually this consists of assigning the youth to a regular probation load. Up to that time he was the sole responsibility of the staff of the Citizenship Training Group. A number of probation and parole agencies are experimenting with what is usually denoted by them as group counseling or group therapy. The supervising officer serves as leader of a group composed of persons under his care. Attendance is obligatory, although the officer may be somewhat permissive about this. The group leader may have had no special training in ways of involving a group in discussion and helping it move. The group members, somewhat uncertain about the purpose of the sessions, often resist attempts to get them moving. Sometimes a session consists largely of embarrassing periods of silence interspersed with meaningless small talk. By contrast, some agencies provide staff with training in group methods, or recruit officers who have such training. Given the requisite skills, workers can usually get a group involved in discussion and working on various problems. Feelings and ideas are ventilated, and some movement is apparent. Group procedures have involved not only probationers and parolees but also their families, on occasion. The Youth Development Project, conducted at a psychiatric outpatient clinic connected with the University of Texas Medical Branch, does family therapy in which probation officers participate. A team of therapists engages in intensive diagnostic and treatment work lasting two or three days. The delinquent and his enure family are patients at the clinic during this period. The method employed is called "multiple impact therapy." In New York City, Nathan Ackerman involves delinquents and their parents in a process which combines analysis, group therapy, and family education. Virginia Satir and associates, in Palo Alto, California, practice what they call "conjoint family therapy," still another family-centered

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group method. Some correctional workers have been trained in this method. What are the results of group approaches in corrections? The cvidcncc is fragmentary, and somewhat equivocal, but some of it is sugg:stive of what may lie ahead insofar as correctional practice is concerned. The Minnesota Department of Corrections conducted an eighteenmonth project, setting up three matched groups of male adult parolees, one experimental, the other two controls. The experimental group was supervised as a unit in biweekly group meetings. Members of the control groups were supervised individually, in traditional manner. After eighteen months of this procedure, the experimentáis were compared with the controls, on the basis of two factors: social adjustment ratings and months on parole without revocation. On over-all parole adjustment, the experimental group was significantly more successful than either of the control groups. Group parole supervision was found to be more effective and economical. There seemed to be no adverse effects when parolees were permitted to associate under the controlled conditions. There was reduced social distance between the parolee and parole officer in the experimental group, and increased self-esteem of parolees, derived from the fact, according to the study, that they were allowed intensive participation in determining their own goals while under supervision.3 The Los Angeles County Probation Department asked each probation officer in the Long Beach Area Office to identify from fifteen to twenty juveniles in his caseload who met the following criteria for membership in an experimental group counseling project: age 14 or older; not previously placed in a forestry camp; not currently in individual psychotherapy; normal range of intelligence; recently placed on probation in the area; likelihood of six months or more on probation. Eligibles were randomly assigned to experimental or control status. The experimentáis were to be given a 90-minute group counseling session each week, usually after school hours. The controls were to receive standard probation supervision, which at the time meant an average of one contact per month, plus indicated collateral contacts and "emergency" interviews with given probationers. When the project terminated, there were 48 experimentáis and 48 controls under supervision. s Nathan Gary Mandel and William H. Parsonage, "An Experiment in Adult 'Group-Parole' Supervision," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 11, No. 4, October 1965, pp. 313-25.

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At the end of the six-month counseling period (approximately 24 group sessions) the counselors completed performance schedules on both type groups. These schedules were concerned primarily with probationers' behavior in the community, although some items dealt with the quality of the probationers' activities in the counseling groups. Management of the group counseling sessions was to be primarily nondirective, but the findings indicated that counselors became quite directive at times, particularly during sessions that were interpreted by them as being disorganized or nonproductive to an extreme degree. The boys were relatively resistant toward attending meetings, and maintaining attendance was one of the most difficult tasks the counselors faced. Two major conclusions emerged from the study: (1) The use of group counseling with the experimental group appeared to be associated with a significant reduction in certain kinds of acting-out behavior in the community. (2) On the other hand, there was no strongly convincing evidence of improvement in attitudinal structure, value orientation, or personal-social adjustment in the experimental group members. Commenting on these findings, Stuart Adams, who was associated with the project, remarks that the increased frequency of contact between the probation officer and his experimental-group probationers may have been viewed by the latter as intensified surveillance. "As a result of this increased surveillance, conduct improved but character did not." 4 The California Youth Authority conducted a study in which thirty-four Youth Authority parolees were divided into two experimental and two control groups, eight wards per group. One experimental-control pair was located in a large metropolitan area, the other in a middle-sized city. Each pair of groups was created by random assignment from a larger group of eligibles who were male; age 16 to 18; Caucasian; incarcerated for at least one year in a Youth Authority institution; and attending public school. Four additional subjects were randomly assigned from the larger group of eligibles during the research period. Members of the experimental groups participated in 75-minute group therapy sessions once a week for seven months. Both experimental and control groups continued under standard parole supervision during the course of the experiment. « Stuart Adams, "An Experimental Assessment of Group Counseling With Juvenile Probationers," paper presented at the 18th Convention of the California State Psychological Association, Los Angeles, California, December 12, 1964.

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At the end of the study period, each of the experimental groups had fewer members returned to state custody than was true of the corresponding control group. In the metropolitan area, return to custody occurred for one experimental and four controls. In the middle-sized city the returns were two experimentáis and four controls. Based on the number of wards originally assigned to the study groups, the rates of return to custody during the therapy period were 19 percent and 50 percent for experimentáis and controls, respectively.5 Although as yet inconclusive, what evidence has accumulated offers encouragement for continuation of the group method in corrections. One top-ranking correctional administrator stated publicly that if he were limited to only one treatment method, the individual or the group, he would choose the latter, on the basis of experience to that date. Other administrators express hope that group approaches will not only improve treatment results, but hasten them as well. This may in turn lower per capita costs of treating prisoners, probationers, and parolees, although this is not certain, as Paul W. Keve points out: There have been instances of probation officers trying to develop group work methods in an effort to save time, or to offset large caseloads by the laborsaving device of seeing several probationers together instead of one by one. Usually this does not have the desired effect on the officer's schedule, for although there has been some experience that shows a saving of work in the sense of more accomplished, the general experience is that group work may be even more demanding of time than casework with individual clients and it may easily be more demanding of the emotional energy of the worker.6

COMMUNITY WELFARE ORGANIZATION Like group work, community organization fits into the cultural climate of our time, as witness contemporary VISTA, Community Action Programs, organized tenant strikes against slum landlords. Over a generation ago, those inspired pioneers of the settlement house movement, along with others in the social services, wrote a glorious page in the history of social work. They viewed social action as part and β Research report, "Personality Assessment as a Measure of Change Resulting from Group Psychotheraphy with Male Juvenile Delinquents," AnnuaI Report of the Institute jor the Study of Crime and Delinquency (Sacramento: Institute for the Study of Crime and Delinquency, 1964), pp. 12-13. Paper. β Paul W. Keve, Imaginative Programming in Probation and Parole (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1967), p. 64.

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parcel of the social worker's job, an obligation to the body politic. Those early workers fought for factory legislation, slum clearance, public health measures, consumers' rights, world peace. They fought against child labor, unsanitary housing, restrictive immigration. Beginning in the 1930s, however, social workers became preoccupied with techniques, particularly for treatment in the one-to-one relationship, and this at the very time when the Great Depression had struck and what the world needed above anything else was a joint effort to reconstruct the shattered economy. The preoccupation with techniques rather than mass movements, with the individual rather than with groups, largely supplanted activism in social work ranks, indeed social action was considered by many social workers to be "unprofessional." They were engaged in treatment of individuals, like the psychiatrist. Changing social conditions was the task of somebody else. Most recently, this attitude has changed, especially during the 1960s. Social action has become respectable again in social work circles. The National Association of Social Workers has formulated a policy statement on the subject, and it obligates social workers to maintain an interest in what goes on in society and what needs to go on. Sincc most social workers are of the middle class, they continue to be fairly conservative, or at most mildly liberal, in their expectations of social change. Their efforts are directed largely at bringing about social betterment within the framework of the middle-class value system. They do not espouse radical departure from that system, which is why self-styled radical Saul Alinsky comments: "The most important lesson is that people don't get opportunity or freedom or dignity as a gift or through an act of charity. They only get these things in the act of taking them through their own efforts." 7 As a group, social workers have not advocated "taking" opportunity or freedom or dignity by force. Correctional workers' efforts in the area of community organization have been entirely "traditional." We defined community welfare organization in the preceding chapter. It is now necessary to differentiate it from other forms of community organization. This is not an easy task, for there is much overlap between one type of community organization and the other. 7 Marion K. Sanders, "The Professional Radical: Conversations With Saul Alinsky," Harper's, Vol. CCXXX, No. 1382, July 1965, pp. 52-59.

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A city planning commission is engaged in community organization; it is concerned with community development. A welfare council, staffed by social workers, mobilizing community resources to provide planned parenthood clinics, is also engaged in community organization; it is concerned with community welfare. The line between the two types of work is rather fine. Both are in the public interest. Both contribute to the public welfare. The heart of the difference lies in the primary method used. Put another way, all joint activity to further community development and welfare is community organization. Community welfare organization is one kind of community organization, specifically that type that makes use of the social work method. Each other kind of community organization employs its own particular method to accomplish its goals. To be sure, one or more social workers may be employed in agencies doing other kinds of community organization, such as a public housing authority. But the authority itself thus makes use of the social worker's particular competence in conjunction with the competences of other individuals and groups, such as architects, sociologists, public health workers, public relations organizations, and lobbyists. The primary method employed is not social work. It is, as we have said, the basic method employed that differentiates one community organization enterprise from another. The social worker's method is based on values which in whole or in part are shared by others in community organization, but his method involves "a skill in the use of a relationship process to free individual and social power for the achievement of a social good." 8 A social agency may engage in community welfare organization exclusively, as in the case of a welfare council. It may be concerned primarily with another aspect of social service but perform some community welfare organization as well. Thus, a private family counseling agency may mobilize community interest in getting the board of education to assign more psychologists to the public schools. What community welfare organization activities are typical of correctional workers and agencies? As may be expected, they are those most directly related to crime and delinquency prevention, control and treats' Ruth Elizabeth Smalley, Theory for Social Work Practice (New York: Columbia University Press, 1967), p. 37.

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ment. Being for the most part, publicly financed, the workers in this field cannot move too far ahead of those who make the laws, furnish the funds, and recruit the staffs. Therefore, the correctional field looks to independent private associations for the furtherance of certain local and national goals. The National Council on Crime and Delinquency is such an agency. The National Association of Social Workers is another. Let us now examine community organization tasks that correctional workers undertake, beginning at the local level. AT THE LOCAL LEVEL

Probation and parole officers, on their own initiative or in accordance with agency policy, have done an outstanding job of demonstrating to employers that properly screened persons with police records make satisfactory employees. They have on many occasions led drives to furnish recreational outlets for juveniles. They have sparked campaigns to clean up areas of social contagion. A typical community organization project in which correctional workers play a part is the case conference committee. Here, representatives of social agencies, the police, the educational system, and other groups meet to discuss particularly difficult cases, seeking through mutual cooperation to narrow the gap between the need in a given case and the availability of service to meet the need. At one case conference committee meeting, a probation officer presented the case of a near-blind youngster who needed transportation to and from a special school for handicapped children for a period of several weeks. He also required surgery, indications being that he might lose his sight completely. The parents belonged to a religious sect that forbade surgery, and the probation officer, having tried and failed to gain their consent, wondered if the committee might suggest an alternative method of getting their permission for the operation. The police representative offered to have juvenile bureau officers drive the boy to and from school for the limited period. The family agency representative wondered if the parents would come in for counseling regarding the situation. When the probation officer said he was sure they would not, a settlement house caseworker, who knew the mother, volunteered to call on her. If no persuasion would budge the parents, the next step might be to ask the juvenile court to decide whether or not to exercise its authority to direct that surgery be undertaken despite parental opposition.

As the illustration suggests, case conference committees serve a useful function in coordinating available resources in the treatment of cases.

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Another agency fulfilling a like function is the coordinating council. August Vollmer, then police chief of Berkeley, California, established the first coordinating council in the early 1920s. By 1957 there were seven hundred in eight states a'one. 9 As a rule, membership is made up of representatives of social agencies, police, school systems, PTA, the ministry, and service, civil, and fraternal organizations. Some coordinating councils have paid, full-time staff. The thinking behind the council is that ( 1 ) local residents have a very special and common interest in the welfare of their immediate neighborhood, and (2) since existing services are not always marshaled to help people most effectively, residents will support a plan to make the service available for resolving neighborhood-centered problems. The major emphasis of coordinating councils has been the prevention of delinquency through the coordination of already existing services rather than through providing new ones. More so than in case conference committees, membership is comprised of a proportionately high number of people who are not social workers. The correctional agency member, therefore, is engaged in community organization but not necessarily in community welfare organization as previously defined. Another neighborhood approach is exemplified in the area project. Clifford Shaw and associates, of the Illinois Institute for Juvenile Research, organized the first of these, the Chicago Area Project, in 1932. Situated behind the city's stockyards, it came to be known as the backof-the-yards project. Shaw's interest evolved from his work in human ecology, a then new field of sociological inquiry being pioneered at the University of Chicago's department of sociology, notably by Robert E. Park, Ernest W. Burgess, and R. D. McKenzie. They hypothesized that as large metropolitan cities grew and expanded, identifiable zones were formed, as a consequence of a "natural process." Shaw and his colleagues found that a disproportionate number of juvenile delinquents resided in characteristic areas of large cities, especially the outer rim of the decaying heart of Zone I, the central business district. These high-rate sections, which the investigators termed "delinquency areas," tended at that time to be characterized by the following features: The residents were predominantly recent European migrants who came from rural areas of the Old World. They » Reported in Kenneth S. Beam, Organization of the Community for Delinquency Prevention (San Diego: San Diego Coordinating Councils, 1957).

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enjoyed little status in the economic, political, and social life of the larger community. They had not been altogether successful in adapting their Old World values and institutions to the requirements of the largescale metropolitan industrial order. Their American-born children, exposed both to their parents' values and those of native-born residents, were caught in a crossfire of cultural conflict between the old and the new. The parents tended to lose authority over their children, many of whom drifted into a youth subculture marked by a tradition of delinquency. This tradition was fostered and sustained by the anonymity of much of the population of slum areas as well as by the presence of a young adult element which engaged in crime as an occupation and a way of life. Why did delinquency generate in the deteriorated slum areas more than in any other section of the city, the ecologists wondered? Their conclusion was that, given the conditions of social life in those areas, delinquent behavior was predominantly the product of the direct processes of social learning. "Where growing boys are alienated from the institutions of their parents and are confronted with a vital tradition of delinquency among their peers, they engage in delinquent activity as part of their groping for a place in the only social groups available to them." 10 The ecologists viewed delinquency as an accident of the individual's social experience and the breakdown of the machinery of spontaneous social control. But Shaw and his colleagues of the Institute for Juvenile Research considered this a reversible accident, and they set about to engineer that reversal. A person, they reasoned, derives his values and rules of conduct from those in his social world who feed him, provide a place for him in primary groups, and affect his self-deve'opment. Therefore, delinquency prevention must first rest with the adults who constitute the social world of the young person. A delinquency prevention program "could hardly hope to be effective unless and until the aims of such a program became the aims of the local population." 11 The first task, then, was to find ways of interesting, not social workers, who were regarded as outsiders by the slum dwellers, but the adult slum 10 Solomon Kobrin, "The Chicago Area Project—A Twenty-five-Year Assessment," Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science, Vol. 322, March 1959, pp. 20-29. 11 Ibid.

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dwellers themselves. People best support enterprises in which they play a meaningful role. Suppose they were told, in effect: "You want your children to grow up normally and have benefits and comforts you do not now enjoy. You want them to fit into the community life of this city and country, to be considered decent, law-abiding citizens. We will not urge upon you our traditional ways of accomplishing this. Instead, we offer you an opportunity to do it your way, as guided by your knowledge of your group and community." Given this opportunity, Shaw and his coworkers hoped, an indigenous and essentially nonprofessional delinquency prevention program would be launched, and would be more successful than anything devised in the past by professionals. A neighborhood center was established, initially financed by a private organization. The Illinois Institute for Juvenile Research furnished some personnel at the outset. Eventually, it was hoped, residents of the neighborhood would find their own funds and furnish all of the leadership. They would have autonomy in planning and operating the program, part of which would logically include the development and training of indigenous leaders who would, to the greatest possible extent, employ the already established institutions of the area, and enlist the active participation of all local residents in furthering the delinquency prevention program. In time, the Chicago Area Project operated clubs and recreation halls, sent children to summer camps, and offered an adult education program. Local leaders took over supervision of the area's probationers and parolees. Men who themselves had formerly committed crime, who were perhaps for that very reason initially accepted by the more youthful offenders, influenced them to change their ways. Delinquents and predelinquents were similarly brought into the orbit of indigenous leaders who spoke their language and shared some, but not all, of their values. The community accepted responsibility for solving its problems. Things were not done by outsiders for or to them. They did things for themselves. The Chicago Area Project became a prototype for those in other cities about the country. It represented a big step in community-centered programs dealing with offenders. We deal with these programs in detail in the next chapter. The back-of-the-yards project also foreshadowed use of "the client as staff," another subject we shall explore. The Chicago Area Project is distinctly not one headed or materially influenced by social workers. It is not representative of community wel-

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fare organization as defined. It does not utilize social work methods in the professional meaning of that term. But it deserves a place in a discussion of correctional work, since probation and parole officers do play some part, at least officially, in the life of the back-of-the-yards community. And correctional services in general are furthered by this pioneering community organization project. No description of community organization in corrections would be complete without mention of a typical situation in which perhaps no more than one probation or parole officer, faced by an almost total absence of services and facilities in his territory, must begin at the grass roots and do all of the work necessary to find what he needs, one way or another. He is the officer whose territory is completely rural, with not even a fairsized city within easy reaching distance. He "must make something grow where nothing has been growing," as one rural probation officer put it. Here is what this man, who covers a sparsely settled farm region, did in the course of his first year in the area: He drove over 30,000 miles, visiting probationers and making collateral calls. He built a communications network whereby sheriffs deputies throughout his territory kept him informed of what his charges were doing, which farmers needed hands, what schools were instituting vocational training courses for adults, and when a traveling team of mental health workers would be in given parts of the territory. He personally visited fanners and artisans, developed employment opportunities for more than a score of probationers. He turned his combination home and office into a clearing house for probationers seeking jobs and employers looking for workers. While he was in the field, his wife was secretary, telephone operator, and substitute probation officer, taking messages, relaying messages, giving emergency advice, and notifying the sheriffs office when she had a hunch there was trouble brewing in some portion of the county. Her husband, meanwhile, persuaded a minister to open the basement of the church for a recreation center for juveniles, and prevailed upon a town council to provide funds for a mobile library that would reach into the most isolated rural outpost. Over two-thirds of our population lives in urban territory, but some 65 million people still reside in sections that are outside the standard metropolitan statistical areas, as these are defined by the Bureau of the Census. It is in these sectors that the one-man probation or parole officer continues to serve as Mr. Community Organization.

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AT THE STATE LEVEL

New York, California, and a number of other jurisdictions have set up agencies to provide funds and consulting services to communities willing to establish or expand delinquency prevention projects. Statewide associations of correctional workers have lobbied for changes in juvenile court law and special treatment programs for narcotics addicts and alcoholics. The combined forces of a number of groups brought the legislature of one state to offer financial incentives, by way of subsidies, to local probation and parole departments interested in upgrading their staffs and services. AT THE NATIONAL LEVEL

National agencies have furthered federal legislation to improve correctional services. They have studied correctional systems and problems in cities, counties, and states. They successfully urged the Congress to fund a project which, it is hoped, will break the log jam in recruitment of qualified staff for probation and parole services. The Federal Government itself spearheads some delinquency prevention programs. The Office of Juvenile Delinquency and Youth Development, in the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, funds research and demonstration projects by governmental as well as nongovernmental agencies. Among these have been projects aimed at providing job training and employment opportunities for delinquents; enabling dropouts to return to school; controlling the behavior of youth groups; involving young people in community action; and providing delinquents with the support and counseling which they fail to get from their families. The United States Children's Bureau, also in the Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, has long engaged in giving advice, guidance, and technical assistance to police and juvenile court personnel. The Vocational Rehabilitation Administration, another unit in the Department, recently developed job training programs for delinquents. The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, launched by President Lyndon B. Johnson, itself represents a gigantic community organization project, participated in by correctional workers, lawyers, and leaders in other fields. The objective was to study all aspects of the delinquency-crime problem in the large, toward the

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end of upgrading police work and the administration of courts, delinquency and crime prevention programs, and the treatment of offender;. Although it is not, on the whole, an innovative document, The Commission's report, completed in 1967, is the most comprehensive survey in this field undertaken since the Wickersham Commission report of the Hoover administration.

11 Supervision in Probation and Parole: Community-Centered Programs Up to this point we have discussed the use of social work method in probation and parole supervision. Now we deal with a type of program that is receiving increased attention. Some of the examples to be cited employ social work method, some do not. COMMUNITY-CENTERED CORRECTIONAL WORK Unmistakably, the trend in correctional practice in the United States over the past twenty years or so has been toward less utilization of institutions and greater use of the free community as a testing ground for offenders. Community-centered treatment programs are founded on the premise that the surest way to help offenders learn to live a law-abiding life in the community is to let them do so, step by step, in free society at the earliest time consistent with community safety. A prisoner may make a "successful" adjustment to incarceration, obey the rules, perform work assigned him, but be adjusting to incarceration, not to the sort of life he will have to live in the outside community. Life is more competitive out there, more complex. Most of an inmate's decisions are made for him; in free society he must make them, and accept responsibility for them. These are among the arguments for community-centered programs. Probation and parole are community-centered, of course. Additionally, however, experimental programs have been established in recent

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years. "The advent of these programs in the postwar decades," observes the President's Commission, "and their recent growth in numbers and prominence are perhaps the most promising developments in corrections today." 1 They warrant description here, since they presumably facilitate the rehabilitation that is the prime objective of probation and parole work. THE HIGHFIELDS PROJECT

In 1950 the State of New Jersey set up its Highfields Project. It was community-centered in that the youths under care were to be housed, not in a reformatory, as would ordinarily be the case, but in the old Lindbergh mansion at Hopewell, which the state took over for the purpose. The boys would not be there day and night; during the day they would leave the premises to work in a mental hospital adjacent to the Highfields residence. The central feature of the program was to be guided group interaction. As we noted in Chapter 10 in the recorded excerpt from a session at Highfields, this method involves individual members of the group in prolonged and intensive discussion of the behavior of group members, its motivation and meaning. The emphasis is on current experiences and problems rather than early conditioning factors. The object is to develop a group culture in which those involved will make themselves responsible for helping and controlling each other. The assumption is that a delinquent is more likely to be influenced by his peers than by professional staff. An individual member is not likely to manipulate others in the group, nor will he be able to lie or alibi himself out of uncomfortable situations in front of his peers. They have all been down much the same road, and they are not easily hoodwinked. Highfields boys are sixteen and seventeen years old and are sent by the juvenile court. Persons with prior correctional school commitments and those who are deeply disturbed or mentally retarded are excluded. Each boy remains in the program for a period of three to four months, approximately half the average stay in the state's training school. Work is viewed as a vital feature of the program, the thinking being that it not only fosters the habit of staying at a job, but also places the boys in situations in which they must adjust to each other and work 1

The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 38.

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cooperatively. Under such circumstances, work becomes a socializing influence. There are few formal rules at Highfields, other than that the boys perform their tasks and attend group sessions. The potential value of the group approach is suggested in the comment of an investigator: If one asks a youth in most conventional institutions, "How do you get out?" one invariably hears some version of, "Be good. Do what you are told. Behave yourself." If one asks a youth in a group treatment program, "How do you get out?" one hears, "I have to help myself with my problems," or "When my group thinks I have been helped." This implies a basic difference in the social system of the organization, including staff rules and functions.2 Evaluations of the Highfields Project have yielded somewhat uncertain results, evaluators not agreeing in their conclusions. However, the President's Commission believes the program is "at least as effective as the reformatory, perhaps more effective." 8 THE PROVO EXPERIMENT IN DELINQUENCY

REHABILITATION

The Provo project for delinquent youths was organized in 1956 at Pinehills, in Provo, Utah.4 Boys selected for the program live at home and spend only a part of each day at Pinehills, otherwise being free in the community. Only habitual offenders, ages fifteen to seventeen, are placed in the program, the highly disturbed and psychotic being excluded. No more than twenty boys are at Pinehills at any one time. Behind the Provo Experiment is the conception that delinquency is primarily a group phenomenon. The task of rehabilitation, therefore, is to change those delinquent characteristics that are shared by the group. The objective is to provide a social situation that will permit the delinquents to examine the role and legitimacy of the authorities in the treatment system. It must also give them an opportunity to examine and decide which alternative will ultimately be most beneficial for them— conventional or delinquent behavior. The program must afford group members an opportunity to assert publicly either a belief or disbelief that 2 J. Robert Weber, " A Report of the Juvenile Institutions Project," unpublished report to the Osborne Association and the National Council on Crime and Delinquency, September 1966, pp. 225-26, quoted in ibid., p. 39. 3 ¡bid., p. 39. * F o r a full description, see L a M a r T. Empey and Jerome Robaw, "The Provo Experiment in Delinquency Rehabilitation," American Sociological Review, Vol. 26, N o . 5, October 1961, pp. 679-96.

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they can benefit from a change in values. Finally, the program sets out to make peer group interaction the principal rehabilitation tool, permitting peer group decision-making and granting status and recognition for participation in treatment interaction and willingness to help others.5 The boys are employed by the city, on the streets, the golf course, at the cemetery, wherever they are needed. They put in a full day's work, six days a week, at fifty cents an hour. When their tasks are completed they return to program headquarters for a daily group session, after which they go home, about 7 P.M. When offenders assigned to Pinehills were compared with two control groups, one of which had been placed on probation, the other committed to the Utah State Industrial School and subsequently released, 73 percent of all boys assigned to Pinehills had gone six months since release from the project without an arrest. Of the probation group, the same proportion, 73 percent had not been arrested in that period of time. Only 42 percent of the state school boys went six months without an arrest after release.® Although the probationers did as well as the Pinehills group, both of the community-centered groups made a better record than the state school boys. However, further analysis of results is in order and in progress. A six-month period is most likely insufficient to measure how many in any type group will eventually recidivate. And if the probation group continues to show up as favorably as the experimental group, the question will arise whether the Provo program offers anything (outside of economical operation) that probation does not furnish in that area.

COMMUNITY TREATMENT PROJECT

The California Youth Authority carries on an experimental-demonstration program called the Community Treatment Project. Organized in 1961, it deals, in separate installations, with boys and girls who are deemed unsuitable for probation and have been committed to the Youth Authority by the juvenile courts of three California counties. Individuals considered serious threats to the community are excluded. The rest are randomly assigned, either to the Community Treatment Project or to regular supervision in offices of the Authority. β Ibid. 6 L a M a r T. Empey, "Alternatives to Incarceration," Office of Juvenile Delinquency and Youth Development Studies in Delinquency (Washington, D.C.: United States G o v e r n m e n t Printing Office, 1967), pp. 38-39.

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T o begin with, then, the Authority retains in the community offenders whom the courts have judged unsuitable for extramural treatment, "obviously a serious undertaking," as the C Y A recognizes. It further observes: None of the Community Treatment Project's program elements are, in themselves, new concepts. Probation and parole everywhere use some or all of the treatment methods. Some experiments have even used highly intensive, low caseload programs without improved success rates. Because intensive treatment, by competent personnel, does not of itself guarantee results that differ significantly from those of routine, nonintensive programs, it was assumed that the Project must include something more than skilled workers, small caseloads, and even good intentions. Therefore, the Project has been organized around a typological approach growing out of a theory of delinquency and providing a method of classification which prescribes effective treatment. 7 The theory of delinquency referred to is that delinquents are not all alike and therefore one should not administer the same treatment to all of them. The typological approach growing out of the theory is based on the hypothesis that delinquents can be subdivided into types, each having clear-cut implications for the kind of treatment required. The treatment approach and method will vary according to the type of offender. Community Treatment Project youngsters are typed according to an "Interpersonal Maturity Level Classification: Juvenile," developed by the C Y A . They are divided into three main groups—high, middle, and low maturity cases. These are then subdivided, so that there are nine classifications altogether. T o illustrate: Maturity Level 2 refers to an individual who is primarily involved with demands that the world take care of him. He sees others primarily as "givers" or "withholders" and has no conception of interpersonal refinements beyond this. He has poor capacity to explain, understand, or predict the behavior or reactions of others. He is not interested in things outside himself except as a source of supply. He behaves impulsively, unaware of anything except the grossest effects of his behavior on others. 8 The subtypes of Maturity Level 2 are: ( 1 ) Asocial Aggressive, or persons who respond with active demands and open hostility when frusT California Youth Authority and the National Institute of Mental Health, The Community Treatment Project after Five Years (Sacramento: Department of the Youth Authority, undated), p. 2. Mimeograph. « Ibid., p. 3.

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trated, and (2) Asocial Passive, comprised of individuals who respond with whining, complaining, and withdrawal when frustrated. After cases have been classified, the experimentáis are assigned to either the Sacramento or Stockton project headquarters. They will reside in their own or foster homes, coming to project facilities only for recreation, care, and treatment. They are encouraged to use the facilities often. These are set up to provide flexibility of operation. The Stockton center, for instance, is in a store-front, one-story building containing a reception area and waiting room, several offices, a schoolroom, craft shop, and general recreation area. No more than twelve cases are carried by one worker, each of whom is selected because of his personal interest in and enthusiasm for the project. Furthermore, each is assigned on the basis of his skill in handling a particular Maturity Level type. Other cases, not assigned to the project, are handled in the conventional manner in district offices. These serve as controls. The average length of treatment in the experimental group prior to "good discharge" is about two years, approximately what it is for the control group. During the intensive phase, at the beginning of treatment, the young person is seen by the worker two to five times weekly, in a combination of settings: individually, with his family, and in a group. It has already been demonstrated, the CYA feels, that treatment methods that work for one type may have no effect, or even a reverse effect, upon another type. And a particular staff member will be successful with one type and not at all with another. Hence, the matching of a particular type case to a particular worker is seen as yielding maximum results. The low-maturity youngster, for instance, needs a worker with the patience and ability to teach his charge to recognize his own emotions and what effect they tend to have on other people. At the same time, the individual is shown that the worker cares for him, even when he is disciplining him, as he must on occasion. "Sometimes detention is the only way at the moment to convince a child that someone really cares, and cares enough about what happens to him to go to the trouble of locking him up for a day or two." 9 Caring means more than that. A striking example, which also illustrates the sensitivity and creative imagination of the worker, occurred • Paul W. Keve, Imaginative Programming in Probation and Parole (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1967), p. 46.

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when a group of experimentáis were being brought to a center for the first time. From infancy, the worker knew, feeding comes to be associated with love. The person who provides food—the mother in the early years—represents a loving individual. The food she provides becomes associated with love and the idea that one is loved. With this consideration in mind, the Project worker had all of the doors removed from the food pantries. He told the new arrivals: "Eat whatever you want, as much as you want, any time." Immediately, there was a wild scramble for the pantries, boys stuffing every edible in sight into their mouths, including raw oats. 10 Is the Community Treatment Project effective? Indications to date suggest it is, but research bearing on this suffers from certain unavoidable imponderables, and further investigation will be required before a definite answer to the question can be given. FEDERALLY STIMULATED

PROGRAMS

The Federal Government has encouraged, and in a great many instances helped finance, state and local community programs which, although not necessarily directed by correctional workers, and not exclusively concerned with delinquency or crime, do serve the ends of prevention and treatment. Under the Manpower and Training Act, a federal statute, various vocational training programs have been set in motion in the interest of young people who live in areas with high unemployment rates, such as Chicago, St. Louis, Detroit, Washington, Los Angeles, Boston, Milwaukee, and New York. Persons between the ages of sixteen and twentytwo are eligible. While in the program, older youths receive up to $20 weekly as allowances. Public employment offices attempt to place those who have completed their training. The Economic and Youth Opportunities Program has served the needs of thousands of young people, including many who have been in trouble with the law or who seem gaited in that direction. The Job Corps, Neighborhood Youth Corps, and the Youth Opportunities Centers are among numerous examples of programs in this field of endeavor. HALFWAY HOUSES

Because we have been hearing a good deal about halfway houses lately we are likely to assume they are new on the horizon. Actually, by what10 Statement by the worker to the author.

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ever name, these community-centered projects have existed for more than a century. Originally privately sponsored and financed, some offered temporary shelter to persons recently released from prisons who could not immediately support themselves. Others provided relatively permanent residence in group homes for "reformed" felons too old or incapacitated to face the rigors of a more competitive environment. The number of such shelters, of either type, was never great, and interest in them eventually lagged, so that they were rarities in the early twentieth century. Currently, however, interest has picked up again, and halfway houses are blossoming in a good many localities, but with some differences as over against the earlier models. Where formerly the shelters were financed by private donors, foundations, or social agencies, nowadays government funds, including monies budgeted to correctional agencies, are also available. And although some contemporary halfway houses offer only living quarters, others have a richer program, as we shall see. As the name implies, a halfway house is a midpoint, or stopping off place, between a custodial institution and the free community. Some halfway houses are for alcoholics, drug addicts, or recovered mental patients who have been released from hospitals. Others are for offenders who were recently in correctional institutions. In many, of course, residents fill several bills of particulars, for alcoholics and drug addicts frequently serve terms of incarceration. The basic premise of any contemporary halfway house is that after a person has been out of the larger society for a prolonged period, a sudden transition from total institutionalization to total liberty may be "too rich for the blood." He needs a place which is midway between the two so as to enable him to shake off the attitudes and habits of institutional life. The halfway house, hopefully, functions to provide a supportive, permissive atmosphere which at the same time stimulates the resident to get adjusted to free society again. That is the philosophy behind Dismas House, a privately financed venture established in St. Louis in 1959 by Father Charles Dismas Clark, with money contributed by a Jewish friend. Roncalli House, in Minneapolis, is also privately financed and, like Dismas House, open to men with records or special problems who may benefit from the halfway house regimen. The American Friends Service Committee, a Quaker group, opened Crenshaw House in Los Angeles in 1958. There are

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other halfway houses around the country, many under the auspices of religious bodies or individual clergymen. However, state and county governments have of recent years invested public funds in halfway houses that are an integral part of the correctional program of the respective jurisdictions. Some are owned and operated entirely by the government, while others are only partly subsidized by public monies. Wilmington has a ha'.fway house, called 308 West Residence, which is operated by the Correctional Council of Delaware, a private prisoners' aid society. The house itself is owned by the state and furnished to the Council rent free. Since 1965 California has been financing and operating the Community Correctional Center in Oakland. It is administered by the Parole and Community Services Division of the Department of Corrections. The United States Government has prerelease guidance centers, under the administration of the Federal Bureau of Prisons. Selected adult male inmates of federal correctional institutions are transferred to a center after being voted a parole but while still having three to four months to serve before the release date. They are thus in a prisoner status, but they will have relative freedom in the prerelease center. There are six of these centers, located in Chicago, Detroit, Kansas City (Missouri), Los Angeles, New York City, and Washington, D.C. The Detroit facility is operated under a contractual arrangement with the State of Michigan providing for joint admission of state and federal cases. While in a prerelease center, a prisoner receives counseling, is aided in looking for employment, and is encouraged to establish contact with relatives. Programs of halfway houses, public and private, vary widely. Some offer room and board, perhaps help in finding jobs, and that is about all. Others provide one or more of a wide range of services, including casework, group therapy, family counseling, religious guidance, and psychiatric care. In some there is a curfew rule, in others not. In most, the resident is expected to pay a modest amount for his room and board, although he may defer payment until he is earning money. In the great majority of halfway houses the presumption is that the resident will remain a comparatively short time, making room for another person as soon as he himself feels secure about stepping into the community

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entirely on his own. Meantime, he does leave the house, in search of employment, or to work, or visit friends and relatives. Thus he accustoms himself by degrees to his eventual full reentry into society. Well before the revival of interest in halfway houses for former prisoners, Alcoholics Anonymous was encouraging their establishment for alcoholics who sincerely wanted to "dry out." Since by conservative estimate there are over 4 Vi million alcoholics in the United States, the importance of such a program will be appreciated. Today, not only are there privately financed halfway houses specifically for alcoholics, but a number that are in whole or in part governmentally supported. Typical of most is Friendly House, in Los Angeles, which happens to be non-tax-supported. A private residence has been taken over to provide shelter for alcoholic women released from hospitals, jails, and prisons. They must come voluntarily. While in residence they must absolutely abstain from alcoholic intake. They pay for their stay if and when able to do so, but no one is turned away or ordered to leave because of lack of funds. The house is in charge of a woman who is herself an arrested alcoholic, and the residents help in the cooking and housework. There is no psychiatric or social work staff, the program centering around the principles of Alcoholics Anonymous. The women attend group meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous inside Friendly House. They are expected to seek employment. They may come and go as they please. Like a number of other halfway houses for alcoholics, Friendly House is independent of Alcoholics Anonymous, but heavily contributed to by members of that organization. What results have been achieved by halfway houses run according to Alcoholics Anonymous principles has not been scientifically ascertained. However, numerous individual cases attest that the residences have at least given a new start and encouragement to men and women who thereafter maintain their sobriety, some for periods long enough to indicate they have reached the point where they can control the urge to drink. Narcotics addiction being even more stubbornly resistant to treatment than alcoholism, there is probably a less encouraging record of recovery as a result of treatment in the existing halfway houses for the addicted. Some of these centers have latterly been established under official correctional auspices.

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Daytop Lodge is an example. "Daytop" stands for Drug-AddictsTreated-On-Probation. It is an undertaking of the probation department of the Supreme Court of the State of New York, Second Judicial District (Brooklyn-Staten Island). The physical facilities are gracious and highly congenial, consisting of a three-story, twenty-room mansion on Staten Island. There is a hothouse and 7 Vi acres of wooded and cultivated landscape overlooking a bay. Daytop Lodge is within walking distance of a bathing beach, but far removed from the haunts of pushers and users of narcotics. The probation department screens offenders who are before the court for crimes, selecting those who will be placed on probation and assigned to the Lodge. Here they receive intensive group therapy and other forms of treatment, at the same time being periodically checked by urinalysis to determine whether they are keeping away from drugs. After a resident has been at the Lodge for approximately ten months, he enters a second stage, which involves the acceptance of a job on the outside and returning to Daytop evenings. The probationer remains in the second stage for some two months, during which time he pays a nominal sum for rent and board. In this phase he is, of course, subjected to some temptation, since he is away from the Lodge while working. The determined drug user will find a way to "score," once he is unrestricted in his movements, and this is precisely what the Daytop staff has in mind. By permitting the former user to circulate in free society while going to and from his employment, they are allowing him to test his will power and determination to stay off drugs. After being in the program for about one full year, the probationer returns to his family and home community. The probation officer assigned to the project plays an active role in helping the probationer bridge the gap between the Lodge and the neighborhood. The ex-resident is encouraged to continue his ties with Daytop. He is urged to telephone in to discuss any critical problem that may arise. He is expected to visit the Saturday Night Open House regularly, where he now can publicly declare, for the encouragement of new residents, that he is "making it" on the outside. A report on the project, submitted in 1964, expressed the opinion that it was too early to arrive at firm conclusions regarding the effectiveness of the program. Research on the subject was in progress, but mean-

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time, all that could confidently be said was that the climate of Daytop Lodge was conducive to constructive change: . . . . the spirit of good will and friendship . . . permeates the premises. Instead of the hang-dog, pessimistic, down-at-the-mouth atmosphere that pervades most hospital and rehabilitation centers for addicts, at Daytop Lodge one will find a bustling, happy, outgoing group who seem to feel that they are marching forward with victory almost within their grasp. Yes, . . . there will be slips now and then. A resident may goof . . . but the essential machinery for rehabilitation has been designed and is operating. 11 Quite different in approach from Daytop Lodge is Synanon Foundation, Incorporated, 1 2 founded in 1 9 5 8 by Charles E . Dederich. Supported entirely by small donors and several private foundations, Synanon grew from a one-headquarters organization until, in 1 9 6 5 , it had installations in Santa M o n i c a , San Francisco, and San Diego, California; Westport, Connecticut; and R e n o , Nevada. T h e founder, Charles " C h u c k " Dederich, is an alcoholic who stopped drinking with the help of the Alcoholics Anonymous program. He is not and never was drug addicted. H e was living near the beach in 0 ; : a n Park, California, when he and friends from Alcoholics Anonymous set up a regular Wednesday night "free association" discussion group in his small apartment. The meetings were loud and boisterous. Attack of one another was a keynote of the sessions, with everyone joining in. I could detect considerable lying and self-deception in the group. I began to attack viciously—partly out of my own irritation and at times to defend myself. The group would join in, and we would let the air out of pompously inflated egos, including my own. The sessions soon became the high point in everybody's week. 13 Noting that some of the disputants changed for the better, Dederich theorized that this was principally an outcome of the intense verbal attacks (which came to be called " h a i r c u t s " ) . He also noticed that he, and occasionally one or another member of the group exerted more than 1 1 Joseph A . Shelley and A l e x a n d e r Bassin, " D a y t o p L o d g e : H a l f w a y H o u s e for D r u g A d d i c t s , " Federal Probation, V o l . X X V I I I , N o . 4 , D e c e m b e r 1 9 6 4 , pp. 4 6 - 5 4 . 1 2 The unusual and potentially misleading nume is said to h ive originated with an addict, newly arrived at the c e n t e r , w h o was Irving t o say two w o r d s unfamiliar t o him, " s y m p o s i u m " and " s e m i n a r , " a l m o s t simultaneously. H e said: " I want to get into a n o t h e r o n e of t h o s e — s y m p — s e m — s y n e n r o n x . " T h i s a c c o r d i n g t o Lewis Y a b l o n s k y , The Tunnel Back: Synanon ( N e w Y o r k : M'.emilkin, 1 9 6 5 ) , pp. viii-ix. M o s t o f the present author's c o m m e n t a r y on S y n a n o n is based upon the same volume. 13 ¡bid., p. 4 9 .

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ordinary influence over the rest. This, he decided, was because these influential members, by personality, symbolized "significant family figures" for the others, perhaps that of a father. As Dederich continued the sessions, more members gathered regularly for self-appraisal and improvement. In the course of time, several drug addicts joined the group. Shortly thereafter the alcoholics split away, except for Dederich, who turned his efforts exclusively to helping addicts.14 Out of these beginnings, Dederich incorporated Synanon Foundation and eventually moved it into a house in Santa Monica, despite vehement neighborhood protests. It was now a home for male and female narcotics addicts, referred to as "patients," who wanted to quit using. They could walk in off the street, out of jail, from anywhere, and ask for help. They became members of the household immediately, no questions asked— not even their names, if they chose to remain anonymous. Once admitted, they had to reside on the premises and abide by very explicit and strict rules: 1. They must go on "cold turkey" (total withdrawal of drugs) immediately, and must absolutely abstain from the use of narcotics or alcohol thereafter. Knowing how wily the addict is, Dederich had new arrivals and their luggage searched. His assistants made meticulous periodic searches of the entire house, and even under the house, to make certain there was no narcotics cache around. 2. The newcomer had to learn immediately that he must follow orders, listen to wiser men than he, work at any chores assigned him, and give himself completely to treating his addiction. 3. The addict must attend regular sessions, called synanons. As in Alcoholics Anonymous, the basic ingredient of the program is group therapy. Addict helps addict, and because they all have much the same history, they cannot lie to each other very successfully, nor can they evade the confrontation of fellow members. Dederich built what he conceived of as a family structure within Synanon. It is autocratic, to be sure, but he deemed that necessary in order to "buy some time," hold on to the addict until his recovery could begin. The autocratic structure demands that the patient perform tasks, as a member of a family group. He might be required to scrub floors, 1 4 "Addicts think alcoholics are squares, and alcoholics think about addicts like squares think about addicts." Dederich, in ibid., p. S I .

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cook, wash dishes—anything at all. The theory is that if a member can take direction in small tasks, regardless of his rebellion at being told what he must do, his activity provides exercise of emotions that have lain dormant; it frees him to give, to create. As treatment proceeds, significant figures of the family structure attempt to implant spiritual concepts and values which are calculated to result in self-reliance. Members are encouraged to read from the classics and the great teachers of mankind, such as Jesus, Lao-tze, Buddha, and others. The synanon, a more or less informal group therapy session, is vital to the program. Ideally, it consists of three male and three female patients plus one "Synanist," himself an addictive personality, who has not "used" for a considerable time, or who seems to be progressing at a faster rate than fellow residents in giving up the mental obsession with drugs. The Synanist is the moderator. The "haircut" is separate from the synanon. It is a session attended by relatively new patients and four or five significant figures of the family structure. The patient is "taken apart," brutally, viciously, as circumstances warrant. He is told how his performance to date has been, and what he needs to do to improve it. Often he is reviled, cursed, called a spineless worm. Dederich sees two benefits in this procedure. The shock effect is beneficial to the patient, he believes. And the deliberate cruelty, judiciously timed, leads addicts to feel that someone cares, that a loving father must also be a firm one. A Synanon resident usually goes through three stages. First, he lives and works in the main building of a Synanon House, where he is watched very closely to make certain he is not sneaking in drugs. If he goes for a walk, a more seasoned member accompanies him. In the second stage, the member may live in a Synanon building and work or go to school in the community. He is allowed considerable freedom now in conducting relationships outside Synanon. It is assumed he has learned how to conduct such relationships on his own. By this time a year or two has usually elapsed since the compulsion for narcotics use was at its peak, and he is deemed relatively unsusceptible to relapse. The third stage is a sort of graduation, usually occurring after about two-and-a-half years of treatment. The member may live and work outside a Synanon House entirely. He has complete freedom to come and go as he pleases, to plan his life as he sees fit. Actually, a good many

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individuals choose to remain within the "family," even if they work outside. And some work inside Synanon, having themselves emerged as significant family figures, able to help newcomers to the program. Dederich has developed a number of aides from among the patients. Careful statistics concerning results achieved by Synanon are not available, but there are documented cases, known to Dederich and others, in which drug use has been long abandoned and the likelihood of relapse appears to be remote. What proportion these "successes" represent out of the total number treated under the Synanon principles is yet to be established.

12 Summing Up the Helping Process Having discussed some of the principles and methods of correctional practice, and certain community resources available to the correctional worker, we now turn our attention to how principles, methods, and resources are employed in day-to-day practice to help persons under supervision. IN GENERAL What is the probation or parole officer after in his relationship with the individual under his supervision? He wants to safeguard the community should the ex-offender show signs of reverting to illegal behavior. He hopes to help his client undergo attitude and character changes where indicated. And in pursuing these aims the officer assists his client in solving day-to-day problems as they arise. The last two objectives, you will have observed, refer to a "client," a person who solicits aid from another. It is time we examine this word in the context of probation and parole. The term "client" was first employed in voluntary social agencies. The man seeking financial aid voluntarily comes to a public assistance agency. The woman who wants help in resolving domestic problems voluntarily applies at a family service organization. Is the probationer or parolee a client in that sense? Not precisely. However, the choice the offender makes to accept or decline probation or parole is a choice of sorts. And once under care, he may voluntarily seek help toward the alleviation of certain problems or choose not to do so. He may not be entirely happy

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about rules and regulations of probation or parole, yet eagerly solicit assistance in getting employment, medical care, or deciding whether to marry. In this sense, the offender is a client, like the applicant of the relief or family service agency. And as in a noncorrectional social agency, the officer, when asked for assistance, considers certain questions: 1. Is the client really motivated to solve the problem at hand? Treatment will not get far otherwise. 2. Does the client have the intellectual, physical, and emotional capacity to solve his problem? He may have the motivation but lack the personal capacity to do so. 3. Is there existing opportunity for the client to solve his problem? He may have the motivation and capacity to do so but there may be no way of solving the problem because of the absence of community resources at the particular time and place. The correctional worker needs to consider the interrelationship among the three factors—motivation, capacity, and opportunity—at a given time. The man with capacity and opportunity to get a college degree may need to be motivated before he employs both in his best interest. The individual with motivation but insufficient capacity to complete college work had better be motivated to use the capacities he does have in order to train for an occupational pursuit that will afford him an opportunity to earn a living. The person with motivation and capacity to complete a college education who lacks the opportunity to do so may be shown how to improve that opportunity. Readjustment of one or more of the variables is frequently possible, and the over-all task of the correctional worker is to bring about that readjustment, where possible, so that optimum and realistic problem-solving may get under way. In considering the problem-solving process it would be a mistake to think of the client as invariably a "sick" individual beset by personal and social ills beyond his ability to conquer. The task of producing changes in behavior may very often consist largely of the identification of elements of health both in the personality and in the situation in which the individual functions, of building upon these strengths, maximizing their role in the current problem-solving process, and "encapsulating" the elements of stress and illness. 1 1 Charles H. Shireman, "Casework in Probation and Parole: Some Considerations in Diagnosis and Treatment," Federal Probation, Vol. XXVII, No. 2, June 1963, pp. 51-57.

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The correctional practitioner is not likely to have been trained to treat intrapsychic illness, the way a psychiatrist does. Moreover, he is probably unable, on his own, to bring about basic changes in the client's environment, such as the elimination of poverty or of discrimination against ethnic minorities. But he can assess the environment on the one hand and single out the client's strengths on the other, in an endeavor to help him build on those strengths in order to solve some of his problems entirely and adjust realistically to those he cannot hope to solve at that time.

MANIPULATING THE ENVIRONMENT Studies of probation and parole outcome find the same meaningful phenomenon: over 50 percent of those who will recidivate while under supervision do so in less than a year after coming under care. In fact, the greater proportion of these will violate probation or parole within the first six months of supervision. There are many reasons why this is so in the individual case, but it is an observation of field workers that the probationer or parolee whose physical needs are met upon returning to the free community is more likely to become psychologically adjusted to freedom than one who is unemployed or in need of shelter or other material comforts. Manipulating the environment in favor of the client is extremely important with the offender group, for this facilitates the solution of immediate environmental tensions which so often lead to recidivism. Bringing such relief may not solve a problem permanently, but eliminating the crisis may prevent what would otherwise be explosive answers to the situation. The officer does well to think of the beginning of the helping process as a time in which he must, as quickly as possible and in collaboration with the ex-offender, determine three things: 1. What are the individual's immediate problems? 2. What alternatives exist for solution of these problems? 3. Which seems to be the wisest alternative? This is exemplified in the case of Steve, who was paroled from a reformatory when he was eighteen and no longer a juvenile by the laws of his state.

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Steve's father was an alcoholic, his mother insane and in an institution. The father, with four children older than Steve, lived in a tenement hovel in one of the most decrepit sections of Manhattan. Every member of the household had a criminal record. Upon making his arrival report Steve told Mr. Cross, his parole officer, that although paroled to live with his father, he had no such intention. Emotionally, he declared: "I never want to see them again! My folks are all bums!" Whatever the officer's private opinion, the fact was the parole board had accepted the home offer only because no other was available. Cross pointed out: "You were paroled to this home, and that's where we expect you to go. We expect you at least to try to make out there." Steve blazed: "OK! Send me back to the ref! If I live with those bums I'll wind up in the electric chair! So send me back now!" Words tumbling over each other, he described how his father used to beat him; how he fed him liquor when the boy was five. He told Cross that his oldest brother inducted him into his first burglary, encouraged him to graduate to robbery. "But where would you go?" the officer inquired. "You have no other home." "I'll sleep on park benches. I'll sleep on subway platforms. I don't care where. I'll make out better that way." Cross was up against an urgent problem. The parole board's approved residence program probably would not be practical. He and the parolee must examine alternatives. "All right," he told Steve, "maybe you've got good reasons for feeling the way you do. I'm glad you told me how you feel, instead of pretending you'd go home when you had no such intention." Steve subsided. "Let's see what we can figure out," the officer went on. Steve couldn't sleep on park or subway benches, could he? Wouldn't that lead to his arrest by police? Steve admitted the logic of that. "And you don't really want to go back to Elmira, do you?" Steve confessed he preferred freedom, if he could have it on his terms. What else was left? Together, officer and parolee explored the alternatives. Steve might be referred to a residence club where his rent would go "on the cuff" until he got his first pay from the job to which he was paroled. With chagrin, Steve murmured he had an idea the job was "a phony," put up at the behest of his brother to affect the parolee's release. Mr. Cross again complimented Steve on his frankness. He told him he might still go to the residence club, pay back rent after he had a job. He could be housed in a Salvation Army shelter, at no cost. Or he might be eligible for financial aid from the Department of Public Welfare. What did Steve think of these alternatives?

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Encouraged to examine them, the youth asserted he would not run up a bill for rent without knowing he could pay. He would rather be returned to the reformatory than take free lodgings from the Salvation Army or money from "the relief." Accepting "charity" had great negative meaning for the boy. He was almost hysterical as he spoke of his loathing of "going on charity," something to which he had never accustomed himself in the many years his family subsisted on public relief. His feelings represented a strength, a healthy stronghold of self-respect, and the officer had no intention of storming that bastion. "Well, Steve," he asked, "what can you suggest?" The parolee considered, and came up with the information that he had an aunt in the Bronx, a nice woman, with her own children. She and his father had had nothing to do with each other for years, and probably she wasn't interested in Steve, but. . . . The officer communicated with the aunt, who agreed to take Steve in for a limited period. One pressing problem was out of the way. There was another. If Steve was to pay his way anywhere, he would have to have a job. The officer suggested the parolee try to locate something himself. He did and failed. He was thereupon referred to the employment bureau operated by the parole agency. A job was secured for him. He began paying rent to his aunt, later moved into a small apartment of his own. In the initial interview, Mr. Cross was aware that Steve's need for home and job was neither the sole nor the most basic problem facing the boy. But it was the most immediate, and the officer chose to do first things first. After these pressures subsided, Steve would be able to give himself more readily to facing other problems, such as his feelings toward his family, his ambivalence about the kind of life he wanted to live—criminal or respectable. Years later, the parolee, reminiscing, told Mr. Cross he had no doubt that, had he been forced to return home or accept relief and free lodgings, he would immediately have absconded and reverted to crime. Obviously, the sum and substance of the helping situation here was not manipulation of the environment alone. Even at the outset, the parole officer used other approaches. Rarely is environmental manipulation used to the exclusion of other approaches. Manipulative activities of a probation or parole officer may include: 1. Job-finding. Some correctional agencies have their own employment bureaus. Others rely upon officers cultivating prospective employers who may be called upon in the interest of a person under supervision.

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2. Home-finding. Every correctional organization has in its caseload men, women, and children for whom adequate, psychologically satisfying homes must be found. 3. Improvement of community life. Officers, with and sometimes without police assistance, help clean up "hot spots" which offer temptation to young and old. The removal of such areas of social contagion is a service to probationers and parolees, and to the public as a whole. Manipulative services, like any other in the helping process, require skill in their administration. The officer must sense when they should be rendered and when not. It is possible, by giving too readily, to make the recipient overdependent. To offer help at the wrong psychological moment may engender resistance or injure the person's dignity. The officer will want to ask himself: Is this the time to step in? What will it mean to this person? What may it do for and to him? The objective of sound manipulative work is not to take the problem away from the individual seeking assistance, but to help him mobilize his own capacities to meet his environment, so far as possible. The worker brings about change in environmental conditions only if the probationer or parolee cannot do so himself, and at a time when receiving help will not cripple the recipient so that he will begin using the worker as a crutch. Environmental manipulation is not simple. Help needs to be forthcoming without too great a struggle on the individual's part, but so far as possible only at the time when it does not signify to the recipient that he has failed once more to meet one of life's realities. Even in the use of manipulative services, the individual must, so far as is feasible, feel that he played a meaningful role. 2

REFERRAL No social agency can furnish all the services any client will need. Therefore, referral service is brought into play. To refer wisely, the worker must know his community and where he can go for what. Among the referral services provided by an agcncy representative are: 1. Job secural. If the correctional agency does not have its own placement service, referral is made to public and private employment agencies. 2. Relief. The officer needs to know when someone under his care is eligible for financial assistance and where he can get it. - David Dressier, Probation and Parole (New York: Columbia University Press, 1951), p. 162.

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3. Medical-denial care. Probationers and parolees often must make use of clinics, hospitals, psychiatrists, dentists. 4. Social insurances. The Social Security Law is complicated. If the officer understands it he can refer those persons eligible for unemployment benefits, old age insurance, survivors' benefits. The permanently and totally disabled are entitled to certain special consideration under the law. But funds available for such purposes will not be drawn to the individual's benefit unless proper application is made. Many people let their rights in these matters go by default because they do not understand the law. The officer has an obligation to guide those under supervision so that they may derive the benefits the law contemplates. He also needs to help eligible probationers and parolees secure health services under the Medicare law. 5. Special diet. Children, the sick, the elderly, frequently require special diets and instruction in their use. Most cities of any size have agencies providing these services. The officer needs to know where those services are available. 6. Testing services. Psychometric examination may be indicated for juveniles. Aptitude testing helps young and old discover their vocational talents. Educational achievement tests are excellent diagnostic devices which aid in planning school careers. 7. Institutional placements. Orphanage, rest home, or other institutional care solves the problems of some probationers and parolees. 8. Foster home placement. This may be advised for a juvenile under supervision or the child of an adult probationer or parolee. 9. Nursery care. Working parents needing to make use of this service may have to be informed of available facilities. 10. Legal aid. Marriages get mixed up. Bigamous relationships existing prior to the beginning of the supervision period must be straightened out. Custody or support of children may be at issue. Divorces, annulments, and legal separations must at times be effected. Civil actions against, or on behalf of, probationers and parolees require referral service by the correctional worker. 11. Recreation. Officers can stimulate interest in wholesome leisuretime activities, cultural and recreational. Settlement houses, community centers, parks, playgrounds, may be used for this purpose. 12. Education. Both juveniles and adults will often benefit from additional education, general or special.

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13. Other social services. The wise correctional worker knows his own functions and limitations within the agency structure. In most instances, he is neither expected nor trained to furnish the kind of treatment which is carried on in child guidance clinics, psychiatric social work agencies, and family service organizations established to deal in considerable depth with emotional problems. Referral is the answer to such needs. Referral services do not amount to a parceling out of aspects of a case, each to be treated in vacuo. The officer does not surrender responsibility for a case when he makes a referral. The latter is part of an over-all plan. The referred service supplements the officer's efforts, the agencies concerned working together toward common ends. GUIDANCE The fact that an officer does not have the training to deal in depth with serious, long-standing emotional problems of probationers and parolees does not preclude the possibility of his using his intelligence and common sense to advise and guide clients in other respects and ways. The advice is likely to be fairly direct, the problem comparatively superficial. The end product is intangible, although it may facilitate the achievement of tangible goals. Example: the individual is advised how to budget his income; he is helped to explore the possibilities of trade training. In furnishing guidance toward the solution of problems, the worker uses as background his knowledge of the mainsprings of behavior. He is expected to know something about human motivation, what man seeks in life, how he reacts to frustration, how he goes about solving his problems. Inevitably, he must deal with psychological needs. His principal tools are his knowledge, his treatment skills, and the interview. In interviewing, he is no mere sounding board, but an active participant. The probationer or parolee has come to him for help. That help will emerge from the face-to-face relationship, in which emotion flows both ways. The person seeking guidance expresses his need, his feelings, while the worker responds with interest, understanding, judicious questions, brief comment, or direct advice, appropriately timed. The worker helps the client articulate his thoughts and feelings, then aids him in mobilizing the strength he has or can be helped to summon to meet his problems realistically. Thus, the officer contributes a great

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deal more than a receptive ear and responsive conversation. He has greater detachment than the person with the problem. He can present situations in perspective, where the probationer or parolee may be too emotionally involved to do so. The officer may make concrete suggestions which illuminate the issues and point to available alternatives toward the solution of the matter at hand. Sometimes this guidance is firm, even unequivocal, as when it is necessary to say what conduct will and what will not be tolerated, what action will lead to revocation and what to continued freedom. This is particularly necessary with young people, who profit from direct injunction when they cannot themselves readily foresee the consequences of their acts. There is one aspect of treatment in a correctional setting which is not often encountered in voluntary social agencies. Frequently, the probationer or parolee does not want to be there, except that he has the choice of that or incarceration. He may be suspicious of, antagonistic toward, the very person who wants to help him readjust his life to the realities of social existence. It helps when both worker and his charge frankly recognize this fact and accept it as normal. The air is cleared when the probationer or parolee finds himself free to express resentment or irritation. It is further cleared when the officer delineates the two areas in which the relationship operates. In one, certain "givens" must be accepted—the person under supervision is not to violate the law, he shall observe certain standards of behavior. The other area consists of that behavior and those tendencies to behave which do not presage violation of probation or parole. This area houses the emotional problems concerning which the individual may voluntarily seek help. It comes clear: Whether the person under supervision accepts the rules and regulations emotionally or not, they are, to the stipulated degree, immutable. They were created neither by the worker nor the person under care, but they are there. On the other hand, a broad range of services is available to those who wish to avail themselves of them, and here the relationship is voluntary and fraught with no peril so far as maintenance of probation or parole status is concerned. Persons under supervision can be helped through the sensible, mature, understanding guidance of the worker, whether or not he is academically and otherwise equipped to treat by methods derived from Freudian,

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Rankian, or other psychological thinking, as will be further developed later in this chapter. Help can occur if the officer does no more than explore a problem with the person under care, help him see the pros and cons, guide him toward insights which will bring a wise decision as to the path to follow. But guidance does not consist simply of giving advice or helping people come to their own decisions. The individual must be aided to walk away from the worker when the time has arrived for it. The worker must not be a crutch, but a catalytic agent. Of what utility is treatment if it leaves the person in a dependent relationship? The mature, healthy individual is one who has learned not only to solve a given problem, but also to solve his problems generally, on his own. Guidance, as outlined here, is effective only when the worker recognizes how far he can go, and what he is equipped to do. It is not psychiatry, and he is not expected to be a psychiatrist.

PSYCHOLOGICAL-PSYCHIATRIC T H E R A P Y We have already indicated that few correctional workers are trained in psychology and psychiatry. Practitioners of those disciplines go deeper into exploration of emotional difficulties than does any method described up to this point. Where staff does have the requisite training, it can be put to use. Otherwise it is dangerous to attempt to practice what one has not been taught. Not every medical man is a surgeon, and unless he is he does not perform surgery. Not every person engaged in a helping relationship is trained in therapeutic techniques derived from psychology, psychiatry, or psychoanalysis. If not, he must eschew working with techniques and concepts in which he has not interned. They cannot be learned from books or via lectures. In social work, they are gained by supervised field training, under the auspices of a graduate school of social work. This is in no sense a derogation of the worth of those correctional workers who have not had this specific orientation and supervised practice. Most of them still can and do make a solid contribution in the helping area. The author is merely suggesting that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and that officers do best when they use procedures concerning which they have more than a little knowledge and skill.

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Probably psychiatrists, psychoanalysts, and other psychotherapists would themselves agree that they have accomplished little in attempted treatment of prisoners, probationers and parolees. The fault lies not with the therapists but with the conditions under which they must operate. The patient must feel he has a problem if he is to give himself to its solution; many former offenders do not so feel. The patient must want treatment; many inmates, probationers, and parolees do not. Private treatment is too costly for most probationers and parolees, and public treatment facilities are too few to begin to meet the demand. Those therapies that rely upon exploration of the unconscious keep a patient lying on the analytic couch once a week for as many as five or six years; in correctional cases, change needs often to come about in much less time, in the interest of public safety, if for no other reason. Partly because of the limitations of traditional therapies, newer orientations have emerged, some of them of especial interest in the correctional field. REALITY THERAPY

A cornerstone of Freudian-based therapy is that the patient's guilt feelings must be allayed if his emotional adjustment is to be facilitated. Another Freudian conception (not as rigidly adhered to by Rankians) is that the patient, as he is today, can be understood only in terms of all of his past, hence getting at the conscious and unconscious mind is a treatment imperative. A new body of therapy developing in England and the United States takes a somewhat opposed view, regarding both of these concerns. In this country, the man who probably has most to offer correctional workers on the subject is Dr. William Glasser, a psychiatrist. He and a colleague, Dr. G. L. Harrington, developed what they call "reality therapy." What makes Glasser especially interesting to the correctional field is that he has worked in it, speaks from that experience, and derives his particular approach partly from it. Although his procedures are the same with nonoffenders as with offenders, we will apply his thinking to the latter group. Glasser adopts a practical, hard-headed attitude toward young people who have violated the law. He does not deny that early conditioning helped shape today's man, but he argues that regardless of what factors in the past operated to produce an individual's character and personality defects as they appear today, the immediate problem is to get the delin-

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quent to see himself as he now is, to indicate to him that his past irresponsibility is not condoned, and to involve him at once in developing a sense of responsibility commensurate with what is expected of all persons. A Freudian might tell the delinquent: "Let's go away back into your history, investigate your conscious and unconscious. Only in this manner will we uncover the unconscious conflict that explains your attitudes and conduct today." Glasser in effect says: "I'm not at the moment concerned with how you got this way. I don't care to probe your past history, or your unconscious. Let's you and I take a good, hard look at what you are like right now." The Freudian might in effect tell the offender: "We're not going to get anywhere if you keep lacerating yourself with guilt feelings. After all, you were urged on to your behavior by drives common to every human being. You acted out your difficulties, whereas other, neurotic people, suffer them out. So, overcome your feelings of guilt, so we can get on with resolving your troubles." Glasser would take a different tack, in effect saying: "Yes. You should feel guilty about what you did. We just don't like that kind of behavior in our society. Once you accept that fact, we can proceed further, and I'll do all I can to help you become a happy, socially responsible member of society." To attempt to give the offender an understanding at this point of the reasons behind his personality distortions, Glasser insists, would impede rather than facilitate treatment. It would merely provide the wrongdoer with a rationalization to continue to behave as in the past. It would encourage him to say: "See? I act this way because my personality is formed, out of my past conditioning. I can't help behaving this way. I shouldn't be held responsible for my behavior." Glasser holds that the orientations of reality therapy can be useful not alone to the psychiatrist but to the correctional worker as well. If clearly understood, Glasser told a meeting of correctional employees, "this theory . . . can be used not only by trained psychotherapists but by everyone who comes in contact with the young offender, from the arresting officer to the parole officer." 3 In the same address, Dr. Glasser vigorously expounds the framework of reality therapy. Regardless of what an individual "has done, how he feels, where he comes from, his size, shape, mental ability, physical condition, or heredity, the young offender suffers 3 William Glasser, "Reality Therapy, A Realistic Approach to the Young Offender," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 10, No. 2, April 1964, pp. 135-44.

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from a universal malady: he is unwilling to take responsibility for his behavior." Correctional problems are only a more dramatic expression of the lack of responsibility which is a basic problem in all psychiatric work. "The children and adults we deal with in correction express this irresponsibility directly by the act of breaking the law. Patients in mental hospitals express it by partially or completely withdrawing into a world of their own creation." 4 The crucial objective in either case must be to guide the patient toward becoming a more responsible person, right now. By insisting that the offender face up to his responsibilities here and now, is Dr. Glasser advocating "an eye for an eye," punishment in the form of rejection? Does he sanction stern, retributive justice? His critics answer affirmatively. He insists that nothing could be further from his mind. He simply is convinced that until the wrongdoer accepts the fact that he is responsible for what he did and will be held responsible for it, there can be no real treatment. The therapist's insistence that the offender face his social reality is solely so that he may be treated successfully. When a girl at Ventura comes to me and says she is unhappy, I won't sympathize. I'll listen, and then I'll suggest that she herself could do something about her problems. I'll further suggest what she might do. I'm a compassionate human being who wants to teach her better ways, but I'm not a crying towel. I don't promise to produce happiness or alleviate misery; it's not my job as a psychiatrist. It is up to her. . . . I'll never do anything to keep her from taking responsibility, no matter how initially upsetting this may be. I'll never change the rules, no matter how much she begs, and I won't give her tranquilizers which promise her happiness without responsibility.5

He will not serve as a crutch by being sympathetic toward the patient's failure to accept responsibility. He treats the delinquent "as a potentially responsible adult rather than as an unfortunate child." By contrast, "traditional psychiatry, by dragging him back into his forgotten past, blocks his progress and excuses his behavior, thereby leaving him exactly where he was before—or worse." 8 All of this, as Glasser would probably see it, points up what the probation and parole officer can do, and what he should not attempt to do. He can refuse to allow his charges to excuse their irresponsibility on the strength of earlier conditioning. He can insist that they face the fact that society does not and will not condone irresponsible behavior that harms * Ibid.

β ¡bid.

β ¡bid.

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others. He can offer them help in becoming more responsible, and praise them for progress in that direction. OPERANT LEARNING METHODS

Another approach of especial interest to correctional workers applies behavior modification techniques based on "operant learning theory," which actually harks back to the stimulus-response conditioning experiments of the Russian physiologist Ivan P. Pavlov, and later, John B. Watson's behaviorism. Currently, investigators are experimenting with the "instant reward" as a means of resocializing delinquent young people. The basic premise is that behavior is governed by its consequences. Thus, once you learn that sticking your hand into a blazing fireplace will hurt you, you avoid that form of behavior. You understand its consequences. Unlike psychoanalysts, experimenters using operant learning theory are disinterested in a person's fantasies, dreams, unconscious, ego, id, and libido. They are concerned solely with overt, hence observable, behavior. Dr. Gaylord L. Thome, director of the Behavioral Research Project of the Southern Arizona Mental Health Center, sets forth the procedures in an article done in collaboration with colleagues. According to them, probation officers (and parole officers, we may assume, by inference) handling juveniles can employ the techniques to advantage, despite large caseloads and even when the officers concerned have had no graduate training. The goal of modifying behavior, they assert, "is accomplished by altering consequences. One technique of such an approach involves the determination of these consequences (or more technically reinforcers) and applying them when a desired behavior is approximated." 7 A youngster's reinforcers may be determined by carefully observing his behavior, since each child has his own list of reinforcers, which can be ranked for importance. Candy for the quite young and money for those who are older are generally in the category of reinforcers. But aside from these, reinforcers usually cannot be accurately determined without observation of the child and inquiry of him and significant others, such as family, peers, and teachers. The investigator wants to know what people, 7 Gaylord L. Thorne, Roland G. T h a r p , and Ralph J. Wetzel, "Behavior Modification Techniques: New Tools for Probation Officers," Federal Probation, Vol. XXXI, No. 2, June 1967, pp. 21-27.

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things, and events motivate the particular individual. What does he want to get out of them? Two general types of reinforcement schedules may be used to modify behavior, according to Thome and colleagues. One is "positive schedule reinforcement," characterized by such reinforcers as praise, attention, privileges, money, food, television, and use of the family car. Changes in behavior promoted by this type of schedule tend to be relatively rapid and durable. The second type is an "aversive schedule of reinforcement." Here the reinforcers include threats, physical punishment, confinement, withdrawal of rewards and privileges, ridicule, and ostracism. Behavior changes promoted by an aversive schedule tend to be relatively limited and temporary. In actual practice, both positive and aversive schedules are employed. To sum up, the regimen is reward and punishment, with the former yielding more rapid and lasting results. Two concepts go along with operant learning techniques: shaping and contingency.

Shaping refers to steps toward a desired goal. A certain behavior is selected as a goal; all responses approximating this goal are reinforced; all other responses are not reinforced. To illustrate: For example, when an otherwise very capable youngster is getting all failing grades in school one should not immediately ask for A's in his work. Instead, he should be shaped toward A's by rewarding D's and all behaviors approximating those needed for academic success (attending, opening book, completing some of the assignments). Once D's are attained the reward criterion can be gradually increased to C's, then B's, and finally A's. The same process would be used for antisocial behaviors. To illustrate, a boy who habitually fights could be rewarded for going a full day without a fight, then 2 days, then 5 days, until it was felt that he had learned new non-aggressive ways of relating to peers. 8

Contingency, the second concept, means that the consequences of an act are made dependent upon whether the act occurs. For example, telling a child he may have an ice cream cone only if he behaves means that ice cream is contingent upon good behavior; or, if parole depends upon acceptable prison behavior, then acting-out prevents parole. It is a very simple and straightforward concept that we deal with in a variety of ways during our daily lives. However, failure to understand the importance of rewarding or punishing on contingency is commonplace and can utterly destroy learning.9 8 Ibid.

» Ibid.

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These procedures are particularly useful, the authors of the article say, inasmuch as trained psychotherapists, following the more conventional methods, have not been very successful in working with children. The artificial relationship between a youngster and a caseworker or psychologist has resulted in no spectacular results. On the other hand, the use of natural relationships—parents, friends, relatives, teachers—in bringing about behavior changes in children can be "efficient and powerful." The agents used on the Behavioral Research Project of the Southern Arizona Mental Health Center to teach new child management techniques to parents and teachers are all subprofessionals—bachelor's degrees or less. They were trained and supervised by the authors. The training techniques could easily be taught to probation officers to improve their effectiveness.10 Probation officers, the authors remark, would have to gain the cooperation of parents, relatives, teachers, and others in applying operant learning methods, for they could not be employed successfully by an officer unless there were consistent follow-through at home and elsewhere. Once themselves instructed in the techniques, the officers could teach them to significant others. All concerned with a particular case would use aversive controls to reduce misbehavior temporarily, then build a treatment plan around positive controls that would teach the youngster new, socially acceptable behavior. An example of behavior modification techniques in action is furnished in the case of Claire: Claire is a bright, moderately attractive 16-year-old who was referred to the project for truancy, poor grades, and incorrigibility at home. The parents were divorced 6 years ago and the mother now supports the two of them as a maid. The father is out of state, as is Claire's older married sister. When the referral came from a local high school, it stated that Claire was going to be expelled for truancy. The staff persuaded them to hold up expulsion for several days, which they were willing to do. The mother was eager for help, although she lacked the physical or emotional resources to assist very much. Claire had been staying home from school for days and was now threatening to run away. Her mother had withdrawn all money, the use of the telephone, and dating privileges. These were all very powerful reinforcers to Claire but, unfortunately, her mother had not provided any clear way for Claire to earn them back. Obviously, the most pressing problem was Claire's truancy and it was imperative that an intervention plan be prepared immediately to prevent 10

¡bid.

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suspension from school. Also, Claire's attending school would be very reinforcing to mother who was, at this time, somewhat dubious that a "noncounseling" approach would be successful. By winning her confidence it would be possible to begin shaping her to regard Claire in a more positive perspective, which would be necessary before a more amicable relationship could be worked out between them. An intervention plan was agreed upon by mother, Claire, and a staff member. Telephone privileges and weekend dates were contingent on attending school all day. The school attendance officer would dispense a note to Claire at the end of each day if she had attended all of her classes. On presenting the note to mother, Claire earned telephone usage (receiving and calling out) for that day. If she received four out of five notes during the week she earned one weekend date night, and five out of five notes earned two weekend date nights. Phone usage on the weekend was not included in this plan. Much to mother's astonishment Claire accepted the plan. Mother herself felt the plan "childish" and was apprehensive about Claire complying with it. Staff emphasized the necessity and benefit of praising Claire whenever she brought a note home. This would be difficult for mother, who was inconsistent, ineffectual, and emotional in all her relations with Claire. However, she was given support through several brief phone calls every week. Despite frequent family upsets Claire attended school regularly from the first day of intervention. The plan was altered (in technical terms the schedule was "thinned") after a month so that Claire would receive only two notes a week. A note on Wednesdays would mean she attended all her classes on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. This was backed up by the privilege of one weekend night out. A second note on Friday meant full attendance on Thursday and Friday, which was backed up by a second weekend night out. The telephone privileges were taken off contingency. About 7 weeks later the notes were stopped entirely. The results were quite impressive. During the first 46 days of school (baseline period) Claire missed 30 days of school (65.2 percent absent). While working with the project for less than 3 months she was illegally absent twice (6.6 percent). She was never illegally absent again following termination, which covers the entire second semester of school. Grades were beyond redemption during the first semester mainly because of absences, thus causing her to fail two subjects. This dropped to one failure during the second semester. According to her counselor at school, Claire continued to experience a poor relationship with her mother but did begin expressing positive attitudes and interests in her classes. Thus, the project was successful in preventing this girl from being expelled from school and probably running away. This was accomplished with a very modest expenditure of staff time. 11 » Ibid.

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PSYCHOTHERAPY

The instant-reward technique may be employed in more ways than one. Ralph R. Schwitzgebel12 applies it in connection with an experiment which leans heavily on a basic approach first devised by Charles W. Slack.13 It is well known that many older delinquents are deeply hostile personalities. Having been emotionally hurt by rejecting parents and an adverse environment, they demand satisfaction of their needs, and resist entanglements with others lest these needs be frustrated. Having committed themselves to a delinquent subculture, they would lose status among their peers if they gave themselves to treatment under any kind of therapist or "do-gooder." How, then, get to them? Schwitzgebel hypothesized that hard-core delinquents who would not be seen near a professional treatment worker would engage themselves in a suitably attractive employee-employer relationship. Wages (a positive reinforcer in operant learning theory) would be the lure in Schwitzgebel's experiment. He went into areas of high delinquency, talked with boys, and sometimes girls, explaining that he was an "experimenter" who needed "subjects" and that he would pay them between $1.50 and $2.00 an hour for their services. He was studying delinquency, he said, by what seemed to him the most direct and sensible method. The best way to find out what delinquents were like and about was to ask delinquents, was that not so? A number of boys agreed, and elected to go to work for him. Each came to his ofiice for a one-hour appointment, during which he was asked to speak into a tape recorder, saying anything that came to mind about delinquents, their ideas, activities, likes and dislikes, whatever was of some importance to a delinquent. At the end of each hour, the experimenter promptly paid, in cash, and set up the next appointment. Obviously, when a boy discussed delinquency, he was bound to do so partly in terms of his own involvement in it. As he continued, session after session, he was forced to dig deeper and deeper into his own feelings in order to produce new material. The result was an extensive and intensive self-examination, which was actually what Schwitzgebel was after, not research data. He hoped that such a self-assessment would 12 Ralph R. Schwitzgebel, Street Corner Research (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1964). « See for instance Charles W. Slack, "Experimenter-Subject Psychotherapy: A New Method of Introducing Intensive Office Treatment for Unreachable Cases," Mental Hygiene, Vol. 44, No. 2, April 1960, pp. 238-56.

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lead the subject to develop insights and, ultimately, a desire to change his values and ways. Essential to the success of the undertaking was the particular kind of relationship the experimenter established with a subject. He never lectured, moralized, or condemned. He made it abundantly evident he was no policeman, judge, parole or probation officer, and had no connection with them. He was an employer, interested only in the young man's performance as an employee. It was a business arrangement they h a d — work for pay. Payment was actually used to effect behavior. For example, delinquents seem to be deficient in time sense, Schwitzgebel discovered. They treated appointments casually. They arrived at the office almost any time except when scheduled. It was not uncommon for them to arrive even on the wrong day. A t first Schwitzgebel did not reprimand them, making use of their services no matter when they arrived. Little extra rewards were paid for arriving at all—candy or fruit, for instance. When a youth's adherence to schedule improved even slightly, he was rewarded with praise. If he produced especially good material in a session he might receive a fifty-cent or dollar bonus on top of his regular pay. By these positive devices, Schwitzgebel was teaching the boys to appreciate and adhere to time schedules. He told the boys that although the sessions were for the experimenter's benefit, in connection with his research, conceivably the boys themselves might be helped in some respects. They might find they were changing in some ways. But if so, this would be a by-product, not the principal objective of the project. The subject was encouraged at all times to believe he was coming to help the "employer," not to be helped or changed himself. He came to do a job and collect his pay. As time went on, however, the young man often realized that despite the fact he was talking for pay, it was making things happen to him. He was altering his views, or his values, or his conception of himself. A t this point he might begin to use the relationship with the experimenter for more than pay. He would ask questions that clearly had to do with him, not with an anonymous or hypothetical delinquent. He would make evaluations of behavior that had as much to do with himself as with any other youth. Eventually, if the process was effective, he would admit the sessions had been of benefit to him and that now he wanted to continue primarily for that reason. If this stage was reached, payments might

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be discontinued. The boy would come in regularly thereafter, aware he was coming for help. The sessions showed a fairly typical pattern. At first the subject was wary, noncommittal. He described his experiences factually, bringing in little sensitive material. He did not reveal anything that might get him into difficulties with the law. After a while, more sure of the experimenter, the youth allowed his hostilities to surface, complaining about authority figures, mistreatment by police and others. Then a period of depression might set in, the subject beginning to realize certain things about himself. Finally, if all went well, the young man reached a point where his outlook and social adjustment showed general improvement. Schwitzgebel reported on a small number of experimental "employees," comparing them over a three-year period with a control group. He concludes the program "was effective in reducing, by almost one-half, the expected number of arrests and months of incarceration of male adolescents with intensive records of delinquent behavior." 14 What does this approach offer the correctional field worker? Very little, directly. He cannot deny he is a probation or parole officer. He cannot claim to be engaged in research. He is not in a position to establish an employer-employee relationship with persons under his supervision. However, should the type of work Schwitzgebel is doing become generally available, it might be a resource for correctional staff, at least experimentally. Officers could arrange to have a given youth approached by a "research worker," perhaps drawn into the operant learning situation. It will be interesting to see, as time goes on, whether what John B. Watson, years ago, called behaviorism, which was a psychological system for conditioning human conduct, rises out of its ashes as operant learning theory and becomes influential in the field of corrections. κ Ralph R. Schwitzgebel, "Delinquents with Tape Recorders." New (London), January 31, 1963.

Society

13 Conditions of Probation and Parole We have indicated that as the word "supervision" is employed in probation and parole it refers to two aspects of the work: protecting the community and helping individuals under care. Rules and regulations, that is, the conditions by which probationers and parolees are to abide, are discussed separately here, since originally they were invoked mainly in the interest of community protection. However, today we consider they have the equally important purpose of helping the individual under supervision adjust to life in the community. The conditions of probation and parole, from this point of view, are also part of the helping process. They are meant to facilitate that process. Rules and regulations are authoritative, but we have seen that authority, per se, does not vitiate an effective treatment relationship. If both the officer and the person under supervision can keep clearly in mind the functions of the agency, the purposes of the service, then rules and regulations can be viewed in proper perspective. The functions and limits of the correctional agency define what shall be the rules and regulations. The statement of those rules clarifies for probationers and parolees what those functions and limits are, what the officer is there to do, what is expected of the individual under supervision, and how he can get help from the organization. A statement of rules and regulations, then, has a positive import for treatment. It clarifies the aims of the agency for both the officer and his charge. It lays the foundation for treatment by establishing the ground rules.

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Social workers in other types of agency would agree with this. They would say social work in any organization is actually impossible without some rules. The relief client must meet eligibility requirements. Individuals seeking help with regard to emotional problems must agree to come to the family service agency at certain hours. They must give themselves to the painful business of discussing intimate details of their lives, or treatment cannot be attempted. There are two reasons why rules must play a part in social work. First, they have a practical administrative function. Public assistance laws must be complied with in a relief agency. A probation or parole officer is charged by law with law enforcement responsibilities. A second reason for regulations is psychological. All of us are more comfortable when we "know the rules." Conditions establish the limits. They underscore the reality situation—how far we can go and still be approved. Children thrive under intelligent discipline which indicates: "You may walk up to this line, but if you step over it, you will be punished." That makes them freer to get as far as the line without insecurity. Some adults find personal security in the strict regimentation of military service. Probationers and parolees may not always be conscious of the fact, but there is emotional security to be derived from knowing: "So far I can go, but no farther." Rules and regulations, we have said, are intended for the ex-offender's benefit every bit as much as for the welfare of the community. To accomplish this double objective, they must be used constructively. We might posit certain generalizations on this score. 1. Rules and regulations need to be applied on an individualized basis so far as possible. That is, they are most useful when adapted to the needs of the given individuals and conditions. A blanket rule that all probationers must refrain from committing further crime is sound enough, so much a foregone conclusion as to be almost banal. But John might be enjoined from drinking liquor while Sam might be allowed more leeway, yet both do well on probation or parole. 2. Psychologically, the positive approach is to be preferred in the wording of regulations. Consider for a moment how you would feel if someone said: "You must not drive a car." It offends; it seems unfair. Now suppose you were told : "You may drive a car. To qualify, you will need to pass a test." The sting has gone out of it, has it not? The second statement sounds less forbidding? That is because it begins with a "yes"

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and not a "no." It tells you how to get an official nod rather than a traffic ticket. The printed conditions of probation and parole would probably be more favorably received and understood if expressed in "yes" rather than "no" language. Instead, the majority speak in "thou shalt nots." 3. We should not enjoin unless we mean to enforce. If we say the former offender must not take even one drink, we must be prepared to exact a penalty every time he does. If we do not mean to do so, we ought not make the rule so positive and rigid. To establish a rule then allow it to be violated with impunity makes the regulation meaningless and invites contempt of all regulations. Operant learning theory should tell us that. 4. Rules and regulations should be sensible, reasonable, workable. They should have a logic. A federal judge placed a defendant on probation for mail embezzlement. When the probationer, who weighed 240 pounds, indicated he intended to get a bricklaying job, the jurist allegedly said: "You're too fat to be climbing around scaffolding. As part of your probation I order you to take off fifty pounds." 1 There are several counts against this order. The instruction is perhaps unworkable, for we know that extreme overweight is often a neurotic symptom, and even the order of an awe-inspiring jurist will not wipe out a neurosis. Further, it may be dangerous for the man to take off fifty pounds. Moreover, the provision is not directly related to the defendant's criminal behavior, hence it lacks a logic for him. It may confuse his understanding of the function of probation. What does that have to do with his avoirdupois? An unemployed man passed some bad checks. A county judge placed him on probation, with the stipulation that at all times he must wear a wallet-sized card, in plain sight, reading: "DO NOT CASH MY CHECK—Because I have been convicted of felony check writing." 2 The regulation had a direct relation to the crime of conviction, but it is inconceivable that the condition imposed could have any but a deleterious effect upon the probationer. He was bound to view it as a devious, cruel punishment, not as a device for improving his conduct. It must have seemed an unreasonable condition to him. Moreover, it was ι New York Times, August 8, 1955. Long Beach (California) Press-Telegram, March 15, 1965.

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unworkable. How could he obey that rule and at the same time adhere to another one that stipulated he must secure and hold employment? What employer would hire him under the circumstances? Finally, the regulation was neither sensible nor humane. What wou'.d wearing the sign do to the social relations of the probationer? How could he go out in public with his wife and children? How could he summon the intestinal fortitude to ride a bus, go to the supermarket, attend church? CONDITIONS OF PROBATION AND PAROLE Let us examine the more common conditions of probation and parole, plus several that are uncommon but uncommonly interesting for their implications. Paying costs of the court action. This condition is only occasionally imposed in probation cases and not at all in parole. Many people in the field consider the requirement unsound because it is unrelated to any known recidivism factor. A person who is going to do well on probation, they assert, will do so whether or not he pays court costs. And those who cannot afford to pay are discriminated against when ordered to do so. Others in the field believe the stipulation has a salutory effect in selected cases, impressing upon them in tangible fashion that illegal behavior brings financially painful consequences. To encourage contrition, strike at the offender's pocketbook, they suggest. Actually, the issue is of no great consequence. Only a fraction of potential probationers are involved. And most judges take into account ability to pay. They will not impose the condition on an individual who cannot afford to comply. Paying a fine as a condition of liberty. This stipulation, when it appears, is also restricted to probation. It is not the same as a fine added to a penal sentence. In the latter instance, the fine is part of the adjudication and must be paid or additional time served. A fine as a condition of probation is imposed upon defendants otherwise deemed fit risks. Here again, opinion is divided as to the efficacy of such a stipulation. Some believe it serves no practical purpose, while others hold it impresses an offender who might otherwise feel he is "getting away with something" if granted probation with no financial strings attached. Jail as a condition of probation. This is not a common stipulation. Only California, Maine, and the Federal Government have statutes

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authorizing a jail sentence as a condition of probation. Additionally, judges in other jurisdictions impose the condition without benefit of enabling statute, on the presumption that they have authority to set any condition of probation so long as it is not capricious. There is some question whether a court has the power to impose a jail term as a condition of probation in the absence of a statute so stating. In Franklin v. State3 the Idaho Supreme Court ruled that if there be no enactment specifically authorizing it, such a condition, laid down in an individual case, is void. However, there have been dissenting opinions in other jurisdictions, and the question must remain moot for the time being. As indicated, the condition applies to probation cases only. The judge orders the defendant to serve a specified period in a local jail before coming under supervision in the free community. While incarcerated, the offender is technically a probationer and the time spent under incarceration is credited against the total period to be served on probation. While some penologists insist this serves the purpose, again, of demonstrating that the probationer "isn't getting away with it," the preponderance of opinion seems to be opposed to this practice. Most correctional workers who have expressed themselves on the subject hold this stipulation violates the spirit of probation. If, they ask, the judge feels the defendant is a safe risk for probation, why does he incarcerate him? If he feels he is not a safe risk, why does he offer him probation at all? Furthermore, these people say, a stay in an institution, particularly a municipal or county jail, subjects the defendant to influences which more often than not make him worse, not better, upon release. Is this what the judge wants? Is this an objective of probation? The Standard Probation and Parole Act, drafted by the National Probation and Parole Association, declares the practice of requiring service of jail time as a condition of probation to be a contradiction in terms and in concept. It condemns the practice. More recently, the President's Commission has commented: The question of the deterrent effect of such a condition requires research and experimentation that has yet to be undertaken. It seems clear, however, that the indiscriminate use of incarceration in a class of cases that presumably includes many offenders not likely to repeat their acts and amenable to »392 P. 2d 552 (1964).

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other corrective methods is unwise. Whether or not to use short-term detention as a deterrent should be carefully determined in each individual instance, and until more knowledge is available as to its effectiveness in accomplishing these purposes it should be used extremely sparingly. 4

Making restitution. Often in probation, less frequently in parole, the offender is ordered to make monetary restitution to the person or persons victimized. Common sense dictates that such repayment, when ordered, be made when the individual is earning enough to comply. Installment payments are the general rule. In their annual reports, many probation departments make much of the dollars collected in restitution. The large sums repaid to victims are often cited as one argument for the use of probation. There would seem to be sound reasons for the stipulation in given cases. It is not only that aggrieved persons are recompensed. Unlike a fine as a condition of probation, or service of a jail term prior to supervision, restitution has an understandable logic. It is directly related to the offense and the attitude of the offender. There is a reality involved: society does not sanction fraud or other forms of theft; it does not approve injury inflicted upon an innocent person. Society wants to make sure the offender realizes the enormity of his conduct, and it asks him to demonstrate this by making amends to the individual most affected by the defendant's depredations. Restitution may have a positive treatment connotation. It offers the individual something within reason that he can do here and now, within the limits of his ability, to demonstrate to himself that he is changing. A fine is punitive. A jail sentence is retributive. But restitution makes sense. It is every man's obligation to meet responsibilities of this sort in civil life. To be sure, treatment considerations may indicate that restitution should not be ordered. It is no magic formula. The backgrounds and needs of the individual case should determine whether or not the stipulation is to be laid down. The mark of effective probation and parole surely is not how much money has been collected, nor even how helpful restitution is to the injured parties, but how effectively it is used as a tool in treatment toward the end that the individual shall not offend again. 4 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D. C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), pp. 34-35.

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Making an arrival report. Persons placed on probation are usually conducted from court to the probation office, where the supervising officer meets his new charge. Parolees are generally required to report to the officer as soon after release from the institution as possible. A parolee's failure to make an arrival report is a danger signal. He travels from institution to the office without escort. If he fails to show up, it may well signify he never intended to place himself under supervision. Or it may mean that en route he stopped of! at a bar; the removal of restraint was too much for him; he became drunk and will need drying out before further plans for his future can be considered. Reporting. Routine reporting, as interpreted by some departments, does not mean the person under care is to appear in person in the office. Mailed reports are sometimes permitted. This might mean a letter from the probationer or parolee in which he gives certain required minimal information. Such "reports" are indeed apt to be sterile and meaningless. One parolee, for instance, sent in several hundred letters in the course of a lengthy supervision period, each giving only name, address, employment, and the comment: "I have no problems to discuss." The gentleman so fortunate as to have no problems of any moment was eventually shot dead in a gang war. Sometimes mailed reports take the form of completed questionnaires indicating residence, employment, recreational activities, budget, savings and other items. A questionnaire assures that certain needed information is provided, but a ten-inch blank for answers to questions is scarcely conducive to eliciting data regarding marital difficulties, emotional conflicts, anxieties, fears, ambitions, plans for the future. Some workers hold that any kind of reporting, in person or by mail, is a futile process, yielding unverified, nonspontaneous information. Even in personal interviews, due to pressures of time, the officer is likely to rap out questions, the probationer or parolee answering in an inhibiting atmosphere laden with tensions. Asked, "Are you still working?" the individual may reply readily enough. But should the worker ask, "Are you and your wife getting along better?" the very atmosphere of the reporting station may produce a "Yes," just to get it over with, even if "I should say not!" would be the appropriate response. There is no question that in most organizations conditions for office reporting are far from ideal. But that type of reporting is not usually intended as a base for casework interviewing. Where this is indicated, it

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is accomplished much better by special appointment, at the erstwhile offender's home, or in the office, but under circumstances providing privacy and a minimum of tension. Routine reports are not expected to be the same as casework interviews, although in many agencies they must serve the double purpose, due to time limitations and excessive caseloads. Where this is so, they are bound to be limited in effectiveness. But the primary aim of the official report is community protection. It is here we get the starting point for treatment and field investigation. The officer must know that the probationer or parolee is alive and available on at least the given day and hour. He must get from him certain basic information: where he lives and works, what is happening in his family, what he does in his spare time. According to the report, such and such are the facts. Of course, anyone who has worked in the field is keenly aware that office reports frequently yield something less than the complete truth. It is impossible that such an overwhelming proportion as so report actually do spend their leisure time in taking a walk, watching television, or settling into bed with a good book. Through duplicity, some persons hope to avoid unpleasantness. They are not going to admit they committed crime, if they did. They will be untruthful about certain lesser matters. But their very evasions and untruths have meaning, and it is important to uncover that meaning. When the officer, armed with what his charge says are the facts, goes into the field and finds discrepancies, he has come upon something that may be highly significant. Then he begins his job of protecting the community or helping the former offender work his way out of some troubling situation. Reporting, then, is a starting point for indicated treatment of the individual as well as for community protection. It can also constitute a salutory discipline if used constructively. It gives the person under supervision an opportunity to do certain things, take affirmative steps in maintaining his good standing. He assumes the responsibility of reporting, where and when required. He has the obligation of telling the truth. To that extent, he is participating in the treatment process. It is a simple duty, for the most part, and not too onerous if one is behaving properly. That reports do act as a control on the individual is suggested by this writer's field experience. It was a matter of note that, too often to be mere chance, when a parolee who had been reporting weekly had his

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status relaxed to a monthly basis, he got into trouble immediately thereafter, as if the lessening of restraints was too much for him. Helen M. Kelleher reported on the case of Mrs. Beckman, 5 a nearprostitute under instructions to report weekly to the caseworker, who acted as a semiofficial arm of the probation system in this instance. About three months after the initial contact, Mrs. Beckman was informed she could report monthly thereafter. That same night she was arrested for disorderly conduct and "leading a lewd and dissolute course of life." Experiences like these suggest that reporting has meaning as a device for strengthening self-control. They also indicate that a problem still to be studied is how best to relax reporting status, and when. Keeping the officer informed of whereabouts. This regulation scarcely requires discussion. If officers are to treat those under their jurisdiction, if they are to provide community protection, they must know where their charges are living and under what conditions. Attending school regularly. This condition is often specified for young people of compulsory school age. It does no more than reinforce existing laws on the subject. In other cases, the rule seeks to gain compliance on the part of individuals above compulsory school age whose probation or parole program calls for further schooling rather than employment. Getting, keeping, and reporting honestly on employment. There is reason to believe that good work habits have a stabilizing effect upon behavior. Adults need to earn a living. The correctional agency wants assurance that the source of income is legitimate. There is good reason, therefore, to stipulate that those who should work, seek employment, hold onto their jobs within reason, and labor only at legitimate enterprise. The same is required of any of us. Obviously, this does not signify that a probationer or parolee must accept any legitimate employment at all, at whatever wage, under whatever conditions. A former light opera tenor was on probation for family desertion. His officer instructed him to seek work, since nothing in his chosen field was available. When the probationer was unable to locate a job, the worker found one for him, and told him he expected him to begin the next day. The probationer became almost hysterical. He could not possibly be a clerk in a business establishment, he cried. If permitted to wait only a few s Helen M. Kelleher, "The Record of Mrs. Pauline Beckman's Year of Probation," in Rosa Wessel (ed.), A Casework Approach to Sex Delinquents (Philadelphia: Pennsylvania School of Social Work, 1947), pp. 88-125.

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weeks, two months at the most, the light opera season would have opened and he would find something. He did not believe he should be forced to accept work for which he was temperamentally unsuited. Since the probationer had no reserve funds, the officer felt he should take the proffered position for the few weeks. But in as much as doing so would apparently create such an emotional upheaval, he wanted to be fair. He offered the probationer the opportunity to present his arguments to his supervisor. In a three-way conference, it was finally agreed that provided the probationer got a loan from his union, as he believed he could, he would not be expected to take the clerical post. He did secure the loan, which tided him over until he was able to get back into theatrical work. Sensible procedure also precludes attempting to force probationers or parolees to work in struck plants. They should not be penalized if, as union men, they go out on a strike called by union officials. The fact they are under supervision does not justify depriving them of a right they would have under other circumstances. Revocation of civil rights, if it took place, did not include this disprivilege. Nor should the fact an individual is on probation or parole serve as justification for directing him to accept work at a salary lower than others are receiving for the same operation. His status should not force him to take work under conditions less favorable than those of employees who do not have records. The employer pays on the basis of capacity. He is not entitled to reduce an employee's market value because of prior record in crime, in the estimation of the majority of penologists who have expressed opinions on the subject. When a man is legitimately employed, he has no reason to be untruthful about it. Untruthful reports naturally lead to the suspicion there may be an illicit source of income or the person concerned is lazy. Trouble is afoot if a probationer or parolee claims to be working when he is not; if he plays all night and cannot get up in the morning to seek or hold employment; if he drifts from job to job; if he has no visible means of support. Some people are unemployed because they have neurotic traits which incapacitate them psychologically. That concerns the officer at one level. Other men and women will not work at legitimate employment because they are involved in illegal enterprise. That concerns the officer at another level. Supporting dependents. We all have this obligation. Should the probationer or parolee be an exception?

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Avoiding indebtedness and unreasonable expenditures. The intent of this rule is clear. We want to encourage thrift, sensible budgeting, responsible habits. But how are we going to define what is and what is not a reasonable expenditure? Buying a Cadillac is unreasonable for a man earning $100 a week and with no money in the bank. It is quite reasonable for a highly paid executive. Individualization must be the rule. Scarcely anybody goes through life without incurring some indebtedness. When is it advised and when not? The officer has an obligation to interpret for the particular case. No formula will serve for all. A parolee asked permission to buy a car "on time." His request was approved, since he required a motor vehicle in connection with his employment, and earned enough to make installment payments. Another parolee wanted to refurnish his home. It would cost about $2,500, of which $2,000 would be paid in installments. The parolee had a sporadic work record. The officer advised against going into debt. The parolee did not buy the furniture. But suppose, despite the guidance of his officer, he had decided he would go into debt for furniture? Would the officer have been justified in ordering him to desist? By virtue of rules and regulations, yes. But the question points up another consideration. There are benefits to be derived from allowing people to do their own budgeting, make their own decisions regarding expenditures. They will make mistakes, but how will they learn to handle money sensibly if they are not given the opportunity to make decisions regarding its use? Relief agencies more and more give assistance in cash rather than in kind. They place upon families the onus of so handling the grant that it will last through the stipulated period. The purpose is to inculcate a spirit of responsibility in such matters, and this requires that the client have the right to make decisions. Something akin to this seems appropriate in probation and parole. Officers have a responsibility to guide those who need help in learning to handle money. This would be particularly so of juveniles. Workers have an obligation to protect dependents of probationers and parolees against extravagences which would leave them without the necessities of life. It is the function of officers to look into questionable expenditures when there is any suspicion they may in some manner be related to conduct which might lead to serious violation of probation or parole. Beyond this, how far need we go?

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The officer wants to consider carefully before taking from a human being the right to self-determination, the authority to act like a grownup person with responsibilities. He would not want to emulate the probation officer who told a man under his supervision he should stop eating meat and substitute fish, because meat was more expensive and cutting into his budget too heavily. The probationer said he hated fish and so did his entire family; he needed meat to keep him going at his heavy laboring job. But the officer was adamant. Meat cost twice as much as fish and would have to go. It would seem the probationer should have had the right to determine his family's diet in a situation of this sort. To refuse him that right was to place him in the position of a child. Certainly the denial did nothing to further his emotional maturity or ability to solve his problems independently. Requiring the person under care to submit to medical or psychiatric care. This requirement, fairly common, calls for interpretation. Any individual may be required to take medical treatment if infected with a communicable disease. Public health laws so provide. Making it a regulation of probation or parole amounts to a duplication, although it would seem to do no harm. Psychiatric care is another matter. If a person be psychotic the law provides for him. Whether he agrees or not, he will be hospitalized. But the neurotic, the psychopath, is not covered in law. It would appear that while he may be led to the psychiatrist, he cannot be forced to give himself to treatment. To profit from treatment, psychiatrists tend to agree, it is necessary that the patient come willingly. On occasion an individual who visits a psychiatrist once or twice against his will decides he is willing to continue coming, but for the most part, it serves little purpose to order a probationer or parolee to go for treatment when he does not want to do so. The officer does better if he tries to interpret to the individual that he needs that sort of help—if he does. Remaining within the jurisdiction. Regulations usually provide that the person concerned is not to leave the jurisdiction without permission. In a probation system, the county is likely to be the unit of jurisdiction. In a state parole system the state line defines the boundaries. The reason for the rule is clear. The organization is authorized to maintain authority over its charges only within its precincts. Jurisdiction would not extend beyond those limits. Where there is sufficient reason, a temporary visit to another jurisdiction can be arranged. Should it seem desirable to allow

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a permanent move to another state, this too is possible. By prearrangement, supervision would be assumed by the receiving state for the sending agency, under the Interstate Parole and Probation Compact. Reports would be furnished the sending state, which would retain legal control over the status of the probationer or parolee. But when there is no reason for the individual to be out of the original jurisdiction, the agency responsible for his supervision wants him within reach. Owning and operating an automobile. The majority of probation and parole systems require that a person under supervision shall not drive a motor vehicle without a license and permission from the agency to have that license. Juveniles below driving age are not, of course, given such permission. The regulation is intended to prevent the use of vehicles for illicit purposes. Some individuals would be dangerous behind the wheel because they have a proclivity for drunken driving. Others have in the past committed offenses in which a car was used. To be sure, a person bent on crime or delinquency might not hesitate to drive a car without permission, if he felt he needed it in the commission of the offense. On the other hand, there are many cases where because they are bent on such an offense the perpetrators make sure they do have a valid license. Should they get away from the scene of the crime successfully and happen to violate a traffic ordinance, they do not want to be subject to the close questioning that would ensue if they were stopped by police and unable to produce a license. In any event, there is no reason why the probation or parole agency should not try to control the situation as far as possible by requiring prior approval for the issuance of a license. The agencies are quite willing to concede that many former offenders live in areas in which a car is essential for transportation to and from work. It is recognized, too, that a car, in proper hands, is a source of recreation for the family. Where an automobile is presumably needed, for work or social reasons, the agency asks only that it have the right to determine whether a driver's license should be approved. If so, it wants to make sure the license is secured without fraud based upon withholding information concerning a court record. Possessing other licenses. This restriction applies particularly in states that grant a combined hunting and fishing license. There probably would be no strictures against fishing, but hunting implies the use of firearms. Agencies do not take the position they will never grant permission for

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this. They merely want to control who shall and shall not have the right to carry weapons. This would be decided on an individual basis, in the public interest. Abstaining from the use or overuse of intoxicants. This provision is found in almost every jurisdiction. Undoubtedly, some restriction is desirable in given cases. However, a blanket regulation, applied to all under supervision presents difficulties. Probably no one questions that juveniles should be held strictly to the no-drinking stipulation. But where adults are concerned, a number of facts should be considered: 1. Liquor affects people differently. It has been established that the drinker has his individual reaction to alcoholic intake. Consistently, he becomes verbose, morose, jocose, lachrymose, bellicose, or comatose, as the case may be. 2. A dosage intoxicating to one man leaves another cold sober. 3. Some can drink and know when to stop. Others, after the first swallow, are bound to have the second and third and fourth, and wind up in serious trouble. In the light of these considerations, a blanket regulation seems unnecessary and unduly restrictive. If we say, "You must not drink," we obligate ourselves to assess a penalty upon every violation of the proscription, and that would be unjust in many cases. The regulation might read something like this: "Your probation (parole) officer will tell you what rule applies in your case regarding the use of alcoholic beverages." Then the worker could tell one man or woman, in effect: "It is clear from your history that after one drink you are dangerous. Therefore, you must not take that drink. If you do, we shall be forced to arrest you." A second person might be told: "You handle yourself pretty well. We will not prohibit your taking a drink, even several drinks. But you must accept the responsibility of not imbibing to the point where you are in danger of getting yourself or others into trouble." Those who can drink sensibly might be given more leeway than those who cannot. A bstaining from the use of narcotics. It cannot be said of the narcotics user that he can use drugs without damaging himself or others. He is almost certain to be "hooked," and addiction will destroy him, physically and mentally. A proscription may not prevent a person from using narcotics, but there is no reason why the supervising organization should not try to protect the probationer or parolee against himself.

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A voiding disreputable places and associates. If a person frequents disreputable neighborhoods and hangouts, he is likely to meet disreputable people. They may lead him into delinquency and crime. Many a juvenile escapade and more serious forays are germinated where young people gather with no prior notion of engaging in delinquency. Says a sixteenyear-old boy, as tape recorded by the writer: We don't just say, like, "Let's meet tomorrow night at 9 o'clock and go out and steal hubcaps or roll drunks." Things like that just happen. We'll be sitting in a drive-in, having a hamburger, and somebody will say, "Jeez, I feel bored! There ain't a goddamned thing to do in this town." Then somebody else will say, "Let's go to a show." The other fellow will say, "Nah! I seen it already. Let's go steal some hubcaps." And that's how it starts.

The injunction to avoid disreputable neighborhoods must be leavened with common sense, for it goes without saying that many offenders grow up in such areas and cannot escape them. They cannot afford to live elsewhere. Of those who do escape the slums, many do not feel at home in a better neighborhood. They drift back to familiar haunts. Sometimes they do not get into difficulties thereby, but often they do. They cannot live in a vacuum, impervious to everything about them. Consequently, a reasonable compromise must be arrived at regarding associates and places of association. It will be an uneasy compromise at best, the element of risk always present. But the hope must be that since not all probationers and parolees can be transplanted, they may at least be helped to develop strength to resist the temptations of certain environments. Keeping reasonable hours. Persons under supervision are required to keep reasonable hours. This is particularly important with juveniles. Moreover, there is probably a demonstrable relationship between hours and recidivism among many adults. What constitutes a reasonable time to be home? Is it 10:30 P.M., which seems to be the favorite hour among the agencies? Or is it midnight, which runs a close second? If we believe in individualization, we will be consistent and say there is no "reasonable" curfew applying to all. Some probationers and parolees are accidental offenders, basically responsible people, able to order their lives successfully. They need no rule. Others, whatever their offenses, must be out at what would be odd hours for most of us. They work nights. Or they are like the former

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banker, a first offender on parole, who attended social functions at his country club. No one was harmed when he stayed out until 2 A.M. and was chauffeured home thereafter. But some persons under supervision do constitute questionable risks, and have no particularly valid reason to be out until the wee hours of the morning. If on the street late at night, even though for no illicit purpose, they would be subject to suspicion on the part of the police. It is to their best interests to be home by a reasonable hour, whatever that is. A sound procedure with adults might be to stipulate curfew, if any, on an individual basis. The regulation might read: "Your officer will talk to you about hours. He will tell you by what general rule you should be guided." For various reasons, a more formal regulation of the hours of juveniles may be justified. Some cities have curfew laws that apply to everyone in the category. Juveniles attending school ought to have the rest they need. Parents should be able to enforce any rule about hours, but many whose children are on probation and parole cannot or do not care to do so. The agency has some obligation here, it would seem. Notifying of arrest or questioning by law-enforcement officers. The arrest of a probationer or parolee is of vital concern to the supervising organization. So is police questioning, whatever the outcome. Marrying without permission. This regulation is certainly important in the supervision of juveniles, for they may not legally marry without parental consent. Moreover, they are more likely than adults to contract "quickie" marriages which later prove bad for both parties. What about adults on probation and parole? Should something as personal as the love relationship be regulated? The majority of probation and parole departments say yes. The argument is that marriage is regulated for all members of a society. Minors, the insane and feeble-minded, the venereally infected, have strictures placed upon their desire to marry. Many states require that all persons desirous of marrying comply with laws requiring health examinations and waiting periods. Why, then, ask some, should not persons who have been in conflict with the law be especially regulated? Others argue that such regulation "is an unreasonable and unwarranted restriction. Moreover, it is more likely to lead to immorality than

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to rehabilitation. There is no justification for it. It disparages the dignity of man." β The present writer takes the following position, although fully aware not all would agree with him: A regulation such as that under discussion has sound administrative objectives: ( a ) It seeks to prevent a venereally diseased person from infecting the spouse, where law does not already provide such protection. ( b ) It attempts to forestall fraud. If the probationer or parolee fails to divulge his or her record prior to marriage, that fact alone could justify annulment. ( c ) It provides time to interpose arguments and a cooling-off period when immature individuals conclude in haste that they will take a chance on not repenting at leisure. ( d ) It gives proper weight to such factors as the feeble-mindedness of one or both parties, or the recurring insanity of one or the other member of the couple. (e) It furnishes opportunity for the officer to counsel his charge regarding such practicalities as the need to have the wherewithal to support a family. ( f ) It is designed to prevent illegal marriages when one or the other of the people concerned is not legally free to contract marriage. These, it seems, are sound reasons for requiring advance approval of marriage. We would scarcely want to go beyond that when an adult is concerned. Counseling is one thing; if, despite that, the parties wish to marry, the right to self-determination would be seen as the guiding principle, even if indications were the marriage would not be a happy one. Many marriages in the general population are not successful. The officer is not God. He cannot be certain his prognostication is more trustworthy than the ex-offender's. Even if he felt it was (as well it might b e ) , it is the person under care who is getting married, not the officer, and there are few things as important to an individual as the right to decide whom he will wed. Living in a meretricious relationship. This one is full of cockleburs. Laws against adultery and those outlawing common-law relationships make it necessary that the correctional organization forbid violation lest 6 Alexander Holtzoff, "Duties and Rights of Probationers," Federal Vol. XXI, No. 4, December 1957, pp. 3-8.

Probation,

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it become party to an offense. It is inescapable, however, that laws alone do not forestall outlawed common-law relationships, and that, moreover, many of them are stable. Others, of course, lead to emotional conflict, even crime. (So do legal marriages.) The writer believes that except in states where the law permits no option, this is an area of life in which we cannot order and forbid by blanket regulation. Sometimes it becomes necessary for officers to lay down the rule bluntly and unequivocally, At other times, they will permit individuals concerned to make final decisions regarding the establishment of recognized and stable relationships unblessed by legal ceremony. Where, as has been stated, the law forbids such, the officer must see that the statute is obeyed. Otherwise, he knows each case is different. One regulation will not cover all contingencies. This problem becomes involved with moral and religious considerations. The writer is not suggesting these are unimportant. They are very important. Man must have the approval of his group and of his faith if he is to be comfortable within himself. Officers have an obligation to point this out. One's religion and ethical code are an authority in themselves, by which many probationers and parolees will be guided. But if we do not wish to blink facts, we must concede that the offender group, like the nonoffender group, contains sinners who are determined to continue sinning. Some sins are against the law, and yield penalties of the law. Others are sins which are so defined by religious tenets without appearing in the statutes. If, after considering the moral implications of his proposed act, a probationer or parolee decides to live in an unsanctioned but legal relationship, the decision would seem to be his, barring considerations of public health and safety. Even that person's pastor, who might urge, plead, and excoriate, would not, finally, take steps to prevent such a relationship from becoming a fact. Requiring church or Sunday school attendance. Very few agencies carry this stipulation. Here is a statement which has much to recommend it: Religion can be a very vital factor in rehabilitation. . . . [But] to order a person of mature years to attend church against his will is an entirely different matter. First, such an action tends to defeat its own objective, for it is apt to make him resentful rather than religious. Second, it is a violation of the probationer's constitutional right of religious freedom. This is one of the rights that are not lost by the conviction of a crime. Freedom of religion,

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as guaranteed by the Constitution, comprises not only the right to worship God in one's own way, but also the right not to worship Him at all.T Permitting visits to home and employment. Such visitation is essential to supervision. The officer is charged with knowing what the individual under his care is doing, so far as can be determined. Field investigation is a sine qua non in the furtherance of this objective. Homes can be visited without embarrassment to occupants. Employment can be checked without causing loss of jobs. Carrying or possessing dangerous weapons. Some persons would be dangerous when in possession of weapons. We have the right to restrict their use even more stringently among probationers and parolees than among civilians without a record. Regulating juveniles. Most of the regulations we have discussed to this point apply to adults and juveniles alike, although some are more pertinent than others to a given category. Additionally, certain provisions are drafted for juveniles only. Those stipulating regular school attendance would not be debated. Neither would rules requiring obedience to parents or guardians, provided they are administered with an understanding of human nature and appreciation of the fact that no one is perfect every hour of his waking life. More questionable is the occasional instruction that directs the individual under supervision to affiliate with a recommended recreational agency. The requirement sometimes found that the juvenile must attend church or Sunday school is open to the same reservations as indicated earlier. To sum up: Rules and regulations are necessary. They require adept administration, skillful individualization. Few can be applied indiscriminately to all offenders. They are most effective when worded so as not to require immediate revocation upon the merest infraction, unless that is exactly what is intended. Ideally, regulations should be permissive legislation, as it were, authorizing but not demanding revocation under given conditions. Revocation should occur only when the subject gives indication he or she is no longer a fit risk in society. A man might get drunk, or drive a car without a license, yet not constitute a serious danger to society. But a man who becomes inebriated often and who, while drunk, illegally drives a car, in * Ibid.

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the company of questionable associates, is subject to very serious examination to determine whether he should be at large. Rules and regulations ought to be treatment tools so far as possible, used in the interest of society and the individual. The tests of a regulation might well be: Does it serve a constructive social purpose? Will it be enforced if seriously breached? Does it protect society? Does it aid in treatment of the offender? THE LAW ON REVOCATION We have already indicated, in preceding chapters, that the preponderance of legal opinions rendered by appellate courts indicates that decisions of judges to revoke probation are not subject to judicial review if taken in accordance with law and if they are not patently arbitrary or capricious. The same is true of parole revocations. It has been consistently held that a board's decision to revoke parole is not reviewable in the courts if the revocation was within the scope of legislative authority; was not fraudulently corrupt; or was not undertaken as a mere whim or caprice of the parole authority. We also pointed out that for the most part, whether or not specifically required by statute, a hearing is granted the alleged violator, to permit him to present his side of the story, attempt to refute charges against him, or to plead extenuating circumstances. We now must add data concerning revocation proceedings, in the light of a gradually emerging trend to provide certain protections for the persons concerned. 1. It was understood, throughout most of the history of probation and parole in the United States, that an individual charged with violation was not entitled to counsel at the revocation hearing unless a statute so stipulated, although a judge or parole board might permit counsel as a matter of discretion. Case law has provided that where, as in some states, the statutes specifically provide for revocation hearings, the parolee (and inferentially the probationer) is entitled to counsel at the hearing. 8 Alabama, Florida, Michigan, and the District of Columbia allow counsel even though the statutes do not require it. And in eighteen states laws specifically sanction appearance of attorneys at revocation hearings. β Fleming v. Tate, 81 U.S. App. D.C. 205, 156 F.2d 848, 849, (1946); Warden v. Palombo, 214 Md. 407, 135 A.2d 439 (1957).

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In 1967 the United States Supreme Court made two rulings (Mempha v. Ray and Walkling v. Washington State Board of Prison Terms and Paroles) which went far beyond the stipulations of case law to that date. The rulings were by a unanimous court, and although having specific reference to probation, the obvious inference is that they apply to parole as well. The court held that persons on probation shall, as a matter of right, be entitled to counsel at revocation proceedings. Furthermore, if the probationer is indigent, the state must provide a lawyer for him. 2. An alleged parole violator (and by inference an alleged probation violator) is entitled to know the charges against him so that he may prepare a defense. This by virtue of Hyser v. Reed,9 a landmark decision which ruled on a number of points having to do with revocation procedures. 3. In probation (and inferentially in parole) a special condition may be imposed if it is relevant to the kind of crime of which the individual was convicted, and which therefore is related to public protection and rehabilitation of the offender. Violation of such a condition may properly lead to revocation. Thus, a defendant convicted of sodomy was held by a New York State court of appellate jurisdiction to be lawfully subject to a condition that forbade his association with young boys.10 Other special conditions upheld by appellate courts have included the instruction that a probationer shall not engage in the practice of medicine;11 and shall hold no office in a labor union or organization.12 4. Probation or parole revocation may be reviewable if such action was based on a requirement that has no relation to public protection or a plan of rehabilitation. For instance, when a judge ordered a probationer to donate blood, under penalty of being considered a violator if he refused, the jurist was held to lack authority to set such a regulation.13 However, a Georgia court of appellate jurisdiction upheld a condition forbidding a probationer to drive an automobile.14 The man in question »Hyser v. Reed, 318 F.2d 225 (D.C. Cir. 1963), Cert, denied 375 U.S. 957 (1963). 10 People ex rei. Schumaker v. Brophy, 147 Misc. 254, 263 N.Y.S. 571 (1933), affirmed 240 App. Div. 802, 266 N.Y.S. 994. 11 People v. Frank, 94 Cal. App. 2d 740, 211 P.2d 350 (1949). 12 Berra v. United States, 221 F.2d 590 (1955), affirmed 351 U.S. 131, 76 S . a . 685, 100 L.Ed. 1013. « Springer v. United States, 148 F.2d 411 (C.C.A. Cal. 1945). ι* Jones v. State, 27, Ga. App. 631, 110 S.E. 33 (1921).

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had been placed under supervision for a crime in which an automobile played no part. The restriction that he not drive might have constituted an obstacle to employment, and possibly to rehabilitation. However, the appellate court obviously believed the trial judge was not acting out of mere whim or caprice. In the light of conflicting appellate decisions, we must conclude that the issue is moot whether a condition of probation or parole, in order to be beyond judicial review, must unfailingly be related to public protection or a plan of rehabilitation. 5. The requirement that a defendant placed under supervision leave the jurisdiction as a condition of his probation has generally been held invalid and an unwarranted restriction on the individual's liberty.1* Hence, revoking probation for violating the condition would probably be deemed improper. 6. Probation may properly be revoked for an act committed prior to the order placing a defendant under supervision if that act constituted a fraud upon the court in relation to the granting of probation.19 Suppose, for example, a defendant induced a woman falsely to pose as his mother, who then pleaded with the judge that she needed her son's support, which would terminate if he were incarcerated. If the jurist placed the defendant on probation partly with this consideration in mind, he was a victim of a fraud related to the granting of probation, and could revoke probation on the basis of an act committed prior to placement of the defendant in that status. An appellate court would very likely rule that the court's revocation order was not subject to review. 7. A warrant to retake a parolee (or by inference to order the arrest of a probationer) cannot issue unless there is information indicating a violation has occurred. "Its issuance without information would be capricious and without basis in law. But when information is at hand, its reliability is a matter for the board or the member as the case may be." 17 These are some of the leading decisions by which probation and parole are ruled in the matter of revocation.13 Courts and parole authorities are still well protected from judicial review in probation and parole is People v. Baum, 251 Mich. 187, 231 N.W. 95, A.L.R. 98 (1930). 16 Commonwealth v. Meyer, 169 Pa. Super. 40, 82A.2d 298 (1951). 17 Christianson v. Zerbst, 89 F.2d 40, 42-43 (C.C.A. Kan. 1937). ι 8 For most of the cases cited, the author relied upon Sol Rubin, Henry Weihofen, George Edwards, and Simon Rosenzweig, The Law of Criminal Correction (St. Paul, Minn.: West Publishing Co., 1963).

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matters. However, there has for some time been a slow but discernible trend toward according persons under supervision at least some of the constitutional guarantees provided in criminal trials. Some would argue that providing mandatory hearings, representation by counsel, and other safeguards serve only to delay action, increase costs, and defeat the ends of community protection. Others assert that probationers and parolees are entitled to a fair hearing. It is further urged that judicial bodies such as courts, and quasi-judicial groups such as parole boards, should be subject to clearly defined rules and limitations, lest they became arbitrary and capricious, abusing the power vested in them by law. Particularly in view of the 1967 rulings of the United States Supreme Court, it is likely that an increasing number of cases will come up for review, toward a careful shaping of the law on revocation procedures.

14 Results in Probation and Parole Do probation and parole "work"? Until comparatively recently correctional workers were certain they had an answer. Of course they worked! Anyone suggesting the contrary was not only badly misinformed but also downright unpatriotic. Asked for the evidence upon which the optimistic claims were based, practitioners were prone to regard the questioner with undisguised suspicion. They tartly asserted that attempting to reduce a human being to a statistic was about as reasonable as expecting a prison bar to bleed. Or they fell back on a case. Mervin was a mean, antisocial fellow. He stole from his employer, robbed a grocer, beat his wife, and wound up in prison for knifing a Skid Row derelict in an argument over a half pint of wine. Then he was paroled, "we gave him six months of casework," and behold! Today, Mervin owns a grocery store, gives his wife roses instead of bruises, eschews alcoholic beverages altogether, and is death on any thieving employee he catches taking an unpaid-for can of salmon home from the store. Thus we waved the flag for Corrections and saluted its "results," guided primarily by what someone called "intuitive opportunism," 1 a form of goal-oriented guessing. Happily, we have become somewhat less certain of our accomplishments in the past two decades. We do not consider probation and parole abysmal failures, but neither do we claim they have been unmitigatedly successful in every jurisdiction. We are more inclined to say we have insufficient empirical evidence for either contention, and that it is time we got down to finding some. This attitude marks the growing up of corrections, a maturation 1

John C. Wright "Curiosity and Opportunism," Trans-Action, January-February 1965, pp. 38-40.

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largely attributable to the entrance into the field of an increasing number of young men and women with training in the behavioral sciences. They want to know. Francis Bacon observed: "If we begin with certainties, we shall end in doubts; but if we begin with doubts, and are patient in them, we shall end in certainties." The probation and parole field is proceeding from honest doubts toward a search for reasonable certainties. IN SEARCH OF A METHOD A step in that direction was taken as far back as 1930, when the Gluecks demonstrated an acceptable research procedure. In their 500 Criminal Careers,2 the now-famed Harvard research team painstakingly followed the careers of 510 men released from the Massachusetts Reformatory. Many of them had been on probation; all were exposed to institutional treatment, followed by parole. What happened to them five to fifteen years after expiration of parole? Investigators interviewed the study group, and checked personal statements against official records. The stunning finding was that 80 percent of the men showed an unsuccessful outcome on parole, if the criterion of success be nonrecidivism. The procedures of the Glueck study were better than any undertaken before. But the findings have limited significance today for several reasons. The volume was published at a time when parole treatment as we understand it was not yet developed. The study population left the reformatory between 1911 and 1922. The parole periods ran through the 1920s. Massachusetts did not employ trained social workers or other specialized treatment personnel in this period. In other words, the study measured some kind of probation and parole work but not the sort just beginning to be practiced. Similarly, the Gluecks' Five Hundred Delinquent Women3 studied treatment of an earlier era in correctional care. The women involved were committed to a reformatory sometime before 1915 and up to 1923. One Thousand Juvenile Delinquents4 followed up cases referred by the 2 Sheldon Glueck and Eleanor T. Glueck, 500 Criminal Careers (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1930). 3 Sheldon Glueck and Eleanor T. Glueck, Five Hundred Delinquent Women (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1934). * Sheldon Glueck and Eleanor T. Glueck, One Thousand Juvenile Delinquents (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1934).

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Boston Juvenile Court to the Judge Baker Foundation for clinical examination between 1917 and 1922. For some time, the Gluecks' trail-blazing attracted few followers willing to undertake their sort of arduous (and expensive) methodology. However, using somewhat similar techniques, Belle Boone Beard studied 500 cases of children placed on probation in 1924 by the Boston Juvenile Court. She followed their histories for five to seven years after the probation period. 5 Speaking of treatment in the country at large, she herself writes: "Probation in its best sense has not even been tried."· For what they are worth then, here are her findings: Some 80 percent of her cases fell in the "successful" category at termination of probation. By the time of the follow-up, however, only some 50 percent of the total group continued without a record of delinquency. In 1939 the United States Attorney General reported on an analysis of 19,256 cases of probationers whose supervision had been terminated within a three-year study period.7 No field checks were made. Reliance was upon records from 25 probation units in 16 states and the District of Columbia. Some 61 percent of the cases had no recorded violation during the probation period. Revocation of probation had been ordered in 19 percent of the cases. The study leaves a great deal to be desired. It investigated behavior during the probation period only. There was no followup beyond that. The relation between treatment and outcome was not indicated. Yet obviously, caliber of staff and treatment methods must have run the gamut from poor to good among the many jurisdictions involved. Coming closer to modern practice chronologically was the study of adult probationers of the Erie County Probation Department, Buffalo, New York, in 1942. Two hundred cases indicted for felony were followed up five to seven years after discharge, partly by field interviews. Seventytwo percent had no known subsequent record. Twenty-eight percent had been convicted of 107 criminal charges.8 But the 200 cases were selected on the basis of not having violated probation while under supers Belle Boone Beard, Juvenile Probation (New York: American Book Co., 1934). β Ibid., p. 147. T Attorney General's Survey of Release Procedures (Washington, D.C., Department of Justice, 1939), Vol. II. 8 Reported in Charles Lionel Chute and Marjorie Bell, Crime, Courts and Probation (New York: Macmillan, 1956), pp. 235-36.

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vision. They had been "discharged with improvement." They therefore represented a highly selective sampling. The individuals would be expected to do better than an undifferentiated group. By the mid-forties, research of a fairly high order was under way. However, for the most part the general public was getting its information from statistics published by correctional agencies, and these presented problems of interpretation of which the individual unsophisticated in statistical methods might be unaware. THE ANNUAL REPORT

Most of these data were incorporated into annual reports of the agencies. Since in effect the organization was examining itself, and in public, conscious and unconscious bias might well creep in. Things were viewed through glasses that were slightly rose-tinted. The most common over-claim was likely to relate to violation rates of probationers and parolees. Not that the claims were downright false; they were statistically correct, but on occasion subtly misleading. For instance, a common procedure in reporting "success" and "failure" on probation and parole was (and is) to show the number of persons under supervision all or part of a given year, this figure being set off against the number declared violators that year. For example: one thousand under supervision all or part of the year; one hundred of these declared violators during the year; net success: 90 percent. A most impressive figure. But suppose 200 of the 1,000 individuals were placed under supervision in December of that year. They would scarcely have been under care long enough, by December 31 of the same year, to furnish a reasonable test of their ability to stay out of trouble. A more acceptable procedure, followed by a minority of agencies, would be to compile figures cumulatively, over a long enough period to show the full history of persons under supervision. Suppose we took the 1940 "graduating class" of parolees in a given state, that is, all those placed under supervision at any time during that year. Their "success" or "failure" outcome by the end of 1940 would not have much significance, for reasons just explained. But let us follow the histories of these individuals into 1941, then 1942, and so on, for at least five years, even if

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supervision officially terminated before then. By that time, research tells us, practically without exception every person who ever would recidivate has recidivated. Now we have something quite reliable in the way of statistics on outcome. Then we take the 1941 "graduates" and follow the same procedure. Then the 1942 releases, and so on, each group being followed up for a minimum of five years. This procedure is more costly than the alternative, of basing all computations on caseload activity within one given year only, and undoubtedly this was one reason why the one-year reports were so overwhelmingly prevalent. More recently, a few agencies have published the more sophisticated type of data, and hopefully, an increasing number of legislatures, budget committees, and county supervisors and other bodies controlling expenditures will learn that in the longer run, the more meaningful figures are worth the price, while the relatively meaningless statistics are largely a waste of money.

THE ALL-OR-NOTHING FALLACY

Statistics on probation and parole outcome have for the most part suffered from a serious shortcoming: they do not fully reflect outcome. Actually, what is measured is probationer or parolee recidivism, which is only one aspect of outcome. Although recidivism is an exceedingly significant criterion of outcome, it is not and should not be the sole criterion. To use recidivism as the only factor in establishing whether the individual has successfully readjusted in society is to set up an all-or-nothing frame of reference. The recidivist becomes a 100 percent failure, the nonrecidivist a 100 percent success. A cartoon depicting a courtroom had a judge asking the defendant: "How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?" The defendant replied: "What else have you got?" He knew that a man may be partly guilty, partly innocent. In the same general sense, a probationer or parolee may show improvement in one area of behavior, no progress in another, retrogression in a third. The employment of a unitary, all-or-nothing criterion such as recidivism to measure probation or parole outcome therefore is misleading in some degree. It is indeed a measure of unsuccessful adjustment that a person under supervision has committed a new offense,

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absconded, or violated the general conditions of probation or parole. But he may at the same time have improved in certain respects. It is a measure of successful adjustment that a probationer has not committed a new offense, absconded, or been declared a violator for other reasons. But he may have shown no improvement, or retrogression, in certain aspects of his behavior. The totally "successful" or "unsuccessful" individual, in this sense, is practically nonexistent. Admittedly, it would be tremendously difficult to create a scientific measuring rod for such intangibles as improved attitudes, greater ability to solve personal problems, marital stability, and the many others that should be taken into account, but a beginning needed to be made, if we were to have high-level research in corrections. An attempt at including factors additional to recidivism was reported in 1952 by Jay Rumney and Joseph P. Murphy. The setting was the Essex County (New Jersey) probation department, one of the largest in the United States.9 One thousand offenders placed on probation in 1937 constituted the study population. Information concerning the probationers was secured by search of records running through 1948, eleven years after supervision began and in most cases eight years after it terminated. Additionally, many former probationers were interviewed personally. It was found that 73 percent were discharged from probation "with improvement." Of the 764 probationers still alive and on whose after-probation history data were available, 26 percent showed "marked improvement," and 33 percent some improvement. Fifty percent had not been arrested again, while 19 percent had been arrested once, and 31 percent more than once since placement on probation. As indicated, subsequent arrest or conviction was not the sole criterion of success and failure. However, the method of determining "improvement" or lack of it was far from precise. As to treatment involved, no one orientation or standard existed. The authors frankly recognized that personnel was not ideal and caseloads were prohibitive, so that even relatively well-trained workers could not do their best. In the adult male division, for instance, loads averaged 233 per officer. β Jay Rumney and Joseph P. Murphy, Probation and Social Adjustment Brunswick, New Jersey: Rutgers University Press, 1952).

(New

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WHAT DID I T ?

Still another quandary in correctional research has been what stimuli produced which responses. Seventy percent of a caseload finished probation without recidivating. Why? Was this in whole or in part a product of the officers' treatment? In spite of it? Was it purely fortuitous, an outcome that would have accrued even if the individuals concerned were not under supervision? We have not developed a methodology to identify and assess all of the variables involved. Of several attempts at measuring probation and parole outcome vis-a-vis the treatment-supervision factor, Ralph England's10 is probably the best, despite the many questions he leaves unanswered. His sample consisted of 490 adult Federal offenders who had been supervised "successfully" (without intervening revocation) on probation, and discharged before December 1, 1944. The Federal probation officers supervising the erstwhile offenders had had on the average one contact with each probationer every two and one-half months. The records of only 24.6 percent of the 490 persons in the sample contained either direct or indirect indications of the specific services and treatment aids rendered, and of these the services were primarily referrals or advice. Only four out of 25 randomly selected cases that had received some sort of special help revealed an effort at anything like therapeutic counseling. Nevertheless, at the time of follow-up after discharge, only 87, or 17.7 percent, had again been convicted of crime. More important, there was no statistically significant difference in recidivism rates between those who had and those who had not received special aids. England was left "with a strong impression that most of the aids and services were not of a type requiring social work training. . . ." This may be so, as to the particular aids and services rendered, but this does not tell us what might have been achieved had casework or other therapeutic treatment been rendered to all of the probationers in the study population. The results might or might not have been better. We do not know. England believes that some persons placed on probation are "selfcorrecting," offenders who, having once committed a crime, are not likely to do so again. This is no doubt true of a given number. He further 10

Ralph England, "A Study of Post-probation Recidivism among Five Hundred Federal Offenders," Federal Probation, Vol. XIX, No. 3, September 1955, pp. 10-16.

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suggests that certain individuals are persuaded from recidivism merely by exposure to limited surveillance while under supervision. Very likely this, too, is true. But England leaves out of account other probationers who might (or might not) benefit from intensive casework or other therapeutic treatment. REPRESENTATIVE RESEARCH FINDINGS In the absence of a more refined methodology, we must rely on the findings of existing current research for information concerning "success" and "failure" on probation and parole. In another report,11 England made a summary analysis of outcomes found in fifteen probation and post-probation studies conducted since 1920. Among eleven dealing with adjustment during the probation period, four found 80 to 90 percent of the cases successful; five found 70 to 80 percent in that category; and two reported that from 60 to 70 percent of the probationers were successful while under supervision. On the face of it, and overlooking such considerations as how much was actually known about the behavior of the probationers, this is an extremely favorable finding. Caldwell reported on an analysis of the careers of 403 federal probationers in the northern district of Alabama after their discharge from supervision.12 The post-release period involved in the follow-up covered eleven years and seven months. All of the cases had a minimum period of five and one-half years after discharge from supervision. Of the 403 individuals, 337, or 83.6 percent, committed no offenses during the postrelease period. This would mean that 16.4 percent recidivated. A Minnesota investigation13 showed a slightly higher, but still gratifying low, recidivism rate. The study covered the histories of 345 men released from the Minnesota Reformatory at St. Cloud between July 1, 1944 and June 30, 1945. Their post-release F.B.I, and other records were checked for a period ending June 30, 1950. The investigators found 11

Ralph England, "What is Responsible for Satisfactory Probation and Postprobation Outcome?", Journal of Criminal Law, Criminology and Police Science, Vol. 47, No. 6, March-April 1957, pp. 667-76. 12 Morris Gilmore Caldwell, "Preview of a New Type of Probation Study Made in Alabama," Federal Probation, Vol. XV, No. 2, June 1951, pp. 3-12. 11 S.B. Zuckerman, A. J. Barron, and H. B. Whittier, "A Follow-Up Study of Minnesota State Reformatory Inmates," Journal of Criminal Law, Criminology and Police Science, Vol. 43, No. 5, January-February 1953, pp. 622-36.

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that 21 percent of the releasees had been convicted of new felonies in the five-year follow-up period. Two percent were returned as parole violators without new sentences, although they were suspected of committing felonies. Fifteen percent had been returned to prison for other types of parole violation, not involving convictions for, or suspicion of, crimes. Thus, 38 percent were returned to prison during the follow-up period. Presumably, 62 percent of the total group were "successes" in that they did not recidivate during the period studied. The 38 percent "failure" figure, which is higher than England and Caldwell reported, may be accounted for in part by the fact that in the Minnesota study, reformatory inmates only, ranging in age from 20 through 29, made up the sample. There is ample evidence that the younger age groups contribute disproportionately to crime. It is difficult to assess the research findings on probation and parole outcome, in the aggregate, because so many imponderables are involved, so many variables unconsidered. An increase in staff disproportionate to increase in caseload may result in a statistical rise in probation or parole violation simply because reduced caseloads make possible the readier detection of serious violations. A drastic change of policy or orientation produced by replacement of one parole board by another may result in either more lenient or more severe enforcement of the rules and regulations of parole in that jurisdiction. A new police chief may order his men to pay increased attention to the activities of persons with criminal records. Probation and parole violations will go up, statistically, not because there necessarily are more violators than previously, but because they are spotted in greater numbers. There are, then, numerous and often incalculable hazards in accepting statistics on probation and parole outcome at full face value. But granting this, a preponderance of the evidence, sketchy as it is in certain respects, suggests that, whether because of, or in spite of, the probation and parole officers concerned, or whether for purely fortuitous reasons, well over 50 percent of persons concerned do not recidivate while under supervision or thereafter. Perhaps as many as 70 percent are "successful," judged by this one criterion. Almost certainly, however, the "failure" rate for juveniles would be considerably higher than the rate for adults, if the figure for both were compiled separately. Still largely unresolved are such questions as:

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1. What treatment approaches influence recidivism-nonrecidivism rates? 2. Would individuals on a caseload do just as well under a person untrained in a helping craft as under a trained worker? 3. Are there indications that not one, but many different approaches should be employed, because not all persons react the same way to a given treatment approach? SOME SOPHISTICATED RESEARCH APPROACHES The questions just raised have latterly been attacked in highly sophisticated research. Where, for many years, the tendency was simply to study a given offender group and its outcome by or some time after termination of probation or parole, most recently the trend has been to compare the study cohort with a control group with respect to the variable or variables under investigation. A representative investigation utilizing this procedure is discussed below. We also consider several projects operating under other types of experimental controls. STUDIES OF INTENSIVE SUPERVISION

If probation and parole offer a service effective in the rehabilitation of offenders, the results should be best under optimum conditions, in which every person under care receives as much attention as he requires. The fact that caseloads are often prohibitively high has frequently been advanced to explain individual failures on probation and parole. What if caseloads were reduced to the point where every officer could give intensive supervision to all of his charges requiring it? Would outcome be more favorable statistically? Several states have researched this problem. One of the most recent scientifically oriented and controlled projects is the Special Intensive Parole Unit (SIPU), conducted by the California Department of Corrections and designed to establish the relationship between size of parole agent caseload and amount of criminal activity on the part of adult parolees.14 Comparable groups of parolees were assigned to officers 14 See f o r example, Joan Havel and Elaine Sulka, Research Report So. 3, Special Intensive Parole Unit, Phase Three (Sacramento: Department of Corrections, State of California, March 1962), mimeograph; Joan Havel, "Special Intensive Parole Unit Reports on Phase III," Research Newsletter, (California Department of Corrections), Vol. 4, Nos. 1-2, March and June 1962, pp. 14-18, mimeograph.

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respectively carrying reduced and normal caseloads. The conditions of supervision, and the outcomes, varied from period to period, and according to type case, but the over-all findings reflect the advantages of reduced caseloads and intensive care. When the parole performance of 911 SIPU and 2,806 control cases was observed at the end of the first and second year on parole, parolees released to smaller caseloads were found to have performed significantly better than those released to regular caseloads. A greater percentage of SIPU than control subjects had experienced no arrest of any kind. A smaller proportion of the SIPU group had been returned to prison. But the difference between SIPU and regular caseloads was not the same for all types of parolees. It was larger for so-called medium risk parolees than for either the best or poorest risk groups,* a curious and unexplained finding yet to be fully explored. MATCHING WORKER AND CLIENT

One finding of SIPU, Phase III—that different risk categories of parolees responded differentially to intensive supervision—leads into a research bypath which has fascinating implications. Have we been shortsighted in assuming that if a particular treatment approach seems to work well with one probationer or parolee it ought to be equally effective with all? Can it be that one man needs a highly trained specialist if he is to be helped, while another requires an altogether different sort of worker? Do the personalities of correctional workers and their charges play a part in treatment? Should we match certain officer personality types to particular personality types of probationers and parolees? Here again, California stands out as a state in which pioneer research has been undertaken to answer such questions. The Department of Corrections has developed scales for measuring the maturity levels of prisoners and parolees, permitting it to affix a Base Expectancy Score which predicts how given individuals will do, in the institution, and under supervision outside. A number of exciting experimental programs, such as California's Community Treatment Project, have made use of these instruments, but we will concern ourselves here only with certain broad implications bearing on the questions we have raised above. Findings strongly imply that the catalytic agent establishing a good treatment relationship is not a correctional worker, but the worker best * Parolee types were classified according to a Base Expectancy Scale, devised by the Department.

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suited to the needs of the probationer or parolee. Certain ex-offender types perform most successfully with officers who use particular methods of supervision. They do better with certain personality types than with others. One of several studies which reach this conclusion relates to California's Community Treatment Project, maturity level scales, and Base Expectancy Scores. Reported on in numerous official documents issued by the California Department of Corrections, the findings are well summarized by Ted Palmer, in a paper presented at the National Meeting of the Big Brothers of America in 1967.15 The Community Treatment Project takes cognizance of four types of youths: Immature Conformist Youths (about 15 percent of the study population); Unsocialized or Low Maturity Youths (accounting for 6 percent); Anxious Neurotic Youths (27 percent); and Acting-Out Neurotic Youths (19 percent of the study group). Each group displays its distinctive characteristics, and each does best under the care of a particular type of parole worker. We can take time to cite two examples only. The immature conformist youth, as described by Palmer, sees himself as rather inferior to most others his own age. He feels he is "low man on the totem pole" among siblings, and considers himself of little value in the eyes of one or both of his parents. For the most part, these young people lack a set of internalized standards to which they feel strongly committed and in terms of which they evaluate themselves and guide their own behavior. They tend to be quiet, easy to get along with, "and generally of! somewhere in the background." They are strongly dominated by a need for social approval, which they attempt to gain at the Community Treatment Project "by means of an almost total, unquestioning compliance with the rules and standards of individuals, and groups, other than themselves." In general, these individuals or groups can, interchangeably, be nondeliquent adults or delinquently-oriented peers. In either instance, Palmer says, immature conformists "believe that most of these individuals are—on the one hand—typically on the verge of rejecting or punishing them, or—on the other hand—are barely willing to temporarily accept or reward them." 18 Ted Palmer, "Relationships between Needs of Youngsters and Characteristics of Treaters: Illustrations of Factors which Bear Upon Matching," paper presented June 21, 1967, in Anaheim, California. Mimeograph.

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Immature conformists try to relate to most adults on a child-to-parent basis rather than an adolescent-to-adult basis. Despite the acceptance and protection they often manage to get from others, they believe that sooner or later—usually sooner—they will be rejected. They are easily intimidated, prepared to flee from situations in which they anticipate disapproval, punishment, or rejection. Palmer asserts : In our experience, the first major task in working with these youngsters is that of reducing their fear that adults in authority will be overly-demanding, confrontive, and punitive. They shy away from adults who appear to make quick decisions, who wish to see a lot of things taking place within a short period of time, and who prefer to see youths rapidly involving themselves in a close or very intimate treatment relationship—particularly one which might involve spontaneous expression of one's feelings or a large amount of verbalizing and soul-searching on the part of the youngsters, together with interpretation of feelings and underlying dynamics by the helping adult, or treater. These youths feel or sense that they will be unable to hold the attention, or satisfy the real preferences, or demands, of adults who appear to have these characteristics.

Observation and experience with many cases at the Community Treatment Project centers have convinced Palmer and his associates that persons who work best with immature conformist youths are those who are reticent in most situations, not pushing themselves on others. They are leisurely and calm in their interaction with other people, not hasty, restless, or impatient. Generally, they speak slowly and give the impression of being very mild, a quality which others sometimes describe as a form of passivity, or even listlessness. They do not convey a quality of forcefulness, energy, or ardor. Generally, they underplay rather than overdramatize the emotional elements in a situation. At a still broader level, they display few emotional fluctuations, or mood swings, over long as well as short periods of time. These helping individuals, Palmer has found, usually have not done much graduate study in fields such as social work, psychology, sociology, or corrections, although in their undergraduate careers they most likely have had courses within one or more of these areas. A feature that places these helping individuals in a position to be particularly beneficial to immature conformist youths is that the former are noncompetitive. Unaffected, they do not demand or need a great deal of

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attention. They generally and genuinely believe in "good sportsmanship," in meeting others half way, in common courtesy, and kindly, comforting, encouraging words used at just the right time. They usually go out of their way to avoid direct confrontation and open challenge, and feel that these approaches are seldom appropriate and ordinarily humiliating to those who would be on the receiving end. These are low-keyed people, who have had a rather secure, moderately sheltered upbringing. They see themselves as having gone through adolescence and early adulthood without debilitating or intense personal struggles, or long periods of isolation from significant others. Major restrictions were not placed on their ability to enjoy and do some experimenting with life, they believe, and they had access to the socially more acceptable ways of expressing their own rebellion and gaining some sense of independence in their formative years. Throughout their relationships, these particular treaters see themselves in more of an openly supportive, Big Brother role than in that of . . . therapist, father-figure, parole officer, or policeman. The pace which they follow in treatment is based on their belief that it takes many, many months—of slow and cautious work—to develop a strong or good working relationship with . . . youths. Particularly during these early months, their communications with these youths are very concrete, explicit, and frequent. Experience has shown that the Immature Conformists can initially be overwhelmed by anxiety when they do not know which basic expectations—on the part of others— they presumably are to comply with. These treaters work toward developing very strong dependency relationships: they usually see this kind of relationship as a necessary prelude to any subsequent expectations (on their part) to the effect that these youths ought, for example, to be able to function quite adequately on their own, even under conditions of their having previously been given large quantities of support, encouragement, and advice in regard to so doing.

This sort of treatment individual, effective as he is in dealing with immature conformists, would not be ideal for working with acting-out neurotics. These individuals have numerous internal conflicts, are dissatisfied with themselves, but are not fully aware of the details and intensity of their conflicts and feelings. They tend to deny that their difficulties might seriously impede their ability to function. They attempt to create the impression that what difficulties they have are under reasonably good control or are temporary and situational in nature. There is no real need to do a great deal of thinking and talking about such matters, they imply.

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Whatever their perceived difficulties may be, they are seldom confused, depressed, or severely self-condemning with respect to them. And they do not want to be "taken care of." Palmer observes that although people often describe these acting-out neurotics as always-on-the-go, perceptive, aloof, at times cutting and impulsive, this impression is modified when one comes to know them better: . . . it becomes evident that their hyperactivity and their self-image of marked adequacy or autonomy are means by which they handle—and, more specifically, put out of their mind—feelings of anxiety, and questions of possible inadequacy and "badness." They find that these feelings and topics are very difficult to put up with or to focus their attention upon for very long.

For this reason, acting-out neurotics do not want close, binding relationships with treatment people who may probe too deeply, produce internal discomfort and pain. They move away from relationships which "have begun to bring close to the surface some of their long held and very intense fears of—and feelings of anger about—not really being wanted, and of somehow 'not really having what it takes' to satisfy others." As, briefly, they perceive feelings of interpersonal discomfort and anxiety, they quickly begin to engage in physical activity of one sort or another, to wound people psychologically, in order to divert their own attention from uncomfortable situations and relationships. "They are thus able to focus their attention away from, rather than have it dwell upon, any further recognition of the older, and still more intense emotions and personal fears." The slow-moving, easy-going treatment person may fail to break down barriers erected by these youths, for the latter not only wish to avoid painful self-confrontation but also to prevent others from really "seeing" them. They particularly wish to conceal the fact that they are not in full control of the things which they really would like to control. They want others to emphasize and respond to their areas of greatest strength, and to only superficially delve into even those areas in which difficulties may have been admitted. Their initial hope is that the individual who is to be their parole agent . . . will in effect agree to establish an externally-oriented, relatively formalized working contract with them, and will—in general—agree to let them handle nearly everything by themselves.

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Yet, at the same time, they anticipate (based largely upon their upbringing) that the "treater" will try to interact on a nonequalitarian basis. They are afraid the parole agent will exercise authoritarian controls, pry too deeply into their everyday activities and basic living arrangements. For this reason, they are prepared to challenge the agent's ability to do these anticipated things, and they also challenge his rationale for exercising authority in supervising them. "They are—in other words —prepared to struggle in order to maintain the feeling of autonomy which is so central to their way of coping with people around them, and with their deeper feelings in relation to themselves." What sort of person is best able to cope with this challenge while at the same time maintaining a helping role vis-a-vis the acting-out neurotic? Experience has demonstrated, according to Palmer, that the effective performers in this role show marked differences in personality characteristics, goals, and strategies, but have certain characteristics in common. They are alert, quick-thinking, and forceful. They are very resourceful, quickly finding a variety of alternative procedures for achieving a treatment objective. Unlike the worker best suited to the immature conformist, who is relatively unfamiliar with the current jargon and ways of the adolescent world, the parole agent most effective with acting-out neurotics is conversant with and very aware of both. In contrast to the worker suited to deal with immature conformists, these agents tend not to have had a particularly sheltered upbringing. They have been "kicked around" themselves, more than have most people. Typically, they have been exposed to a good deal of "life." In most respects, however, they seem satisfied with who they are as people, and with their accomplishments to date. Although the acting-out neurotics with whom these parole agents interact try to conceal their real feelings, the workers are quite sensitive to hidden meanings and "double" messages in verbal communications. They are quick to perceive and understand artificialities and pretenses in common social intercourse. "In fact, they take most things they hear with a grain of salt; and seldom do they themselves stand on ceremony." At the outset of a relationship with a youth, these parole agents are careful not to threaten the very real need the acting-out-neurotic has to maintain a good deal of autonomy and control over the details of his life. They express concern for their charges, and that kind of warmth which is involved in caring very much about what another person does with his

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own life, but they avoid "mothering" the boys or showing them the sort of tenderness which might frighten them off. These workers do not see themselves primarily in the role of fatherfigure, in other words. But neither do they think of themselves primarily as therapists, parole officers, or policemen. They try to define their role vis-a-vis the parolee as that of a concerned, skeptical, and somewhat stern uncle or much older brother, but also as an advice-giving, trustworthy old friend with whom a man-to-man discussion can take place. Although the parole agent recognizes that acting-out neurotics want to avoid close communication and involvement with treatment staff, he attempts to maintain close communication with them, especially with respect to crisis situations. During such crises, it is difficult for actingout-neurotics to maintain their stance of being in little need of assistance. If the worker is able to breach the barricades at such critical times, he may eventually—perhaps after a year or so—get the youngster to accept that the worker can be a valuable and needed resource in somewhat less critical times as well. Therefore, at psychologically appropriate moments, the parole agent is not reticent in describing and evaluating what he sees going on. His remarks are pointed and critical, but offered in a manner indicating he wants to help, even though this may necessitate a certain amount of hurt along the way. The young people often come to regard these workers as interesting in themselves, persons who have a worthwhile story to tell about what adulthood and late adolescence can be like. They begin to feel that they can learn from these individuals, who have experienced some kicking around themselves, how different people have managed to grow from adolescence (which the youths find hard to take) into adulthood. The parole agent suited to the immature conformist, it will be recalled, is viewed in the Community Treatment Project as not requiring a great deal of academic training. Experience reveals that the effective worker with acting-out neurotics, in addition to being a "natural" in his high degree of sensitivity to personal and interpersonal dynamics, commonly comes to his tasks with a background including a good deal of formal training in fields such as sociology, corrections, or psychology. We have gone to considerable lengths to review Palmer's analysis of the project because it throws light on a subject largely ignored in earlier inquiries into what makes for an effective working relationship. The cor-

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rectional field has received a great deal of help from psychology, social work, and sociology in the way of broad treatment approaches and specific treatment skills. The field has additionally developed its own treatment adaptations. But as in social work generally, insufficient attention has been given to the impact of the individual worker on the particular client. Worker and client are individuals, and the "chemistry" must be right if treatment is to be effective. One probationer does best with a father-figure, another reacts toward him with hostility and fear. One parolee needs a warm, understanding Big Brother type, another a somewhat aloof, hard-hitting person who at the same time shows concern for the parolee's welfare. Here is a vast and relatively unexplored field of inquiry and treatment to which the correctional field might well devote much time and energy in the future. In the past decade, a modest beginning has been made in this direction. Ten states now carry specialized caseloads in which offenders with designated problems or characteristics are supervised by officers presumed to have special aptitudes for managing them.16 The majority of these special cases are narcotics violators. Others are alcoholics, mental defectives, or violent offenders. The New York State Division of Parole has specialized caseloads for intellectually gifted ex-offenders.

THE RESEARCH DOLLAR Once upon a time the children of a great country were afflicted with two plagues, one affecting a few thousand each year and the other affecting over a million a year. Both were permanently crippling in many instances, and the more prevalent one was frequently damaging to others in the community. The smaller one affected the bodies of its victims; the larger one affected their minds and behavior. . . . The smaller one was regarded as a disease, and large sums were given to physicians and men of science . . . to find ways of preventing and treating this plague. The larger one was regarded as requiring punishment, or denunciation, or conferences, or other traditional measures, and the physicians and the men of science had a relatively minor role in dealing with this plague. 17 16 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 68. 17 Raymond F. Gould, "Are we Scientific about Delinquency?", Federal Probation, Vol. XXI, No. 4, December 1957, pp. 16-21.

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This statement was made in 1957 by Raymond F. Gould, social science analyst, National Institute of Mental Health, United States Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. The smaller plague of which he speaks was polio. The other, as Gould expressed it, was: an as yet unnamed set of diseases of mind and spirit which frequently manifest themselves in what is called delinquency or law-breaking, but are also manifested in poor academic and vocational performance, disloyalty, apathy, and difficulties of interpersonal relationships which are associated with various kinds of mental illness.18 One would believe that the thinking citizen, and his legislative representatives, would demand to know what the tax dollar devoted to corrections is buying in public protection and the rehabilitation of offenders. The surest proof would inhere, not in pious platitudes or wishful thinking, but in sound research evidence. Thus far, the public has not demanded that evidence, and even legislative bodies that appropriate the tax dollars for corrections have been shockingly disinterested in getting at the true facts. They have consequently been notoriously niggardly in appropriating money for research into correctional programs, which might or might not merit financial support. This attitude undoubtedly has cost the tax payers of the United States hundreds of millions of dollars, expended on programs and treatment methods that in themselves are expendable because they are under- or unproductive. There has been somewhat of a breakthrough in the past few years. Spurred on by the tremendous acceleration in scientific investigation generally, impressed by the breathtaking speed with which computers can now solve certain (and only certain) problems, some government officials have become advocates of scientific research into the prevention, control, and treatment of delinquency and crime. State and Federal Governments have latterly made handsome sums available for vital explorations. Possibly, before very much longer, the larger "plague" to which Raymond F. Gould adverted will have vanished from the earth. This assertion may seem wildly over-optimistic, but let us bear in mind that only the other day, as history is reckoned, the elimination of polio, that "smaller" plague, appeared impossible. The next day, Jonas Edward Salk perfected his vaccine, and the impossible began to be possible. 18 ¡bid.

15 Some Administrative Considerations In this chapter we arc concerned with matters related to the administration of probation and parole organizations. Administrative patterns, operations, and problems vary widely by agency, hence the more general statements contained in this chapter are subject to some qualification when a particular jurisdiction is concerned.

PREPARATION FOR PROBATION AND PAROLE WORK What educational background do we expect of individuals entering these services? No one answer will suffice. This author has taken the position that probation and parole are social work undertakings, but many correctional administrators, and also some educators, hold a contrary view. The Encyclopedia of Social Work, an official publication of the National Association of Social Workers, holds that "graduate training in a school of social work is the generally accepted standard . . . " 1 for recruitment into the field of probation and parole. A contrary view is held by sociologist Walter Reckless, who organized a correctional curriculum at Ohio State University. The field services in probation and parole are not and should not be social casework, he says: I maintain that probation and parole work is probation and parole work and not private agency casework or psychiatric casework. . . . Consequently, the ι Milton Rector, "Probation and Parole," in Harry L. Lurie (ed.), Encyclopedia of Social Work, Fifteenth Issue (New York: National Association of Social Workers, 1965), pp. 570-73, at p. 73.

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core subject for the training of workers should be courses in probation and parole and not courses in casework. 2

Professor Norman Class, of the University of Southern California School of Social Work, raises some pertinent questions about the training of correctional workers: In my opinion no reasonable approach to the matter of qualifications can take place until there is a practical, widely agreed on resolution of the question, What is the hard vocational core of probation and parole service? To put its components into logical sequence: ( a ) Is probation and parole essentially a social work task? (b) Is probation and parole partly social work and partly "something else"? If it is, what specifically is that something else? ( c ) Is probation and parole generally "something else"? If it is not social work, what is that "something else" in terms of identifiable educational content— law, psychology, sociology, police science, public administration, or some combination of these? . . . Certainly . . . without a practical resolution of this question no sound educational planning can take place. 3

Professor Class would probably agree that probation and parole are social work, and the "something else" is part of social work training, too. Schools of social work recognize that agency functions differ and that specific education for those functions must be added onto the generic. The 1956 National Conference on Parole did not go so far as to recommend that field practitioners be graduate social workers. But its workshop on parole staff did hold that for "the more important executive and semi-executive positions an educational background in social work or some related social science field at the graduate school level" was desirable. The workshop further recommended that case supervisors be graduates of social work schools. 4 Considering how many field workers are not social work trained, and that they are doing a reasonably effective job on the whole, it would be foolhardy to insist that only social work training graduates a competent probation or parole officer. All that is suggested here is that there is a trend in the direction of recruiting graduates of schools of social work, 2 Walter Reckless, "The Controversy About Training," Focus, Vol. XXVIII (January 1949) pp. 23-25. 3 Norman E. Class, "Qualifications: A Realistic Approach to Personnel Requirements," National Probation and Parole Association Journal, Vol. Ill (April 1957), p. 107. 4 Randolph E. Wise, "The 1956 National Conference on Parole," Federal Probation, Vol. XX, No. 3, (September 1956), pp. 28-35.

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on the premise that they will make better officers. Ernest F. Witte, at the time Executive Director of the Council on Social Work Education, wrote : There are . . . in the Journal of the National Probation and Parole Association . . . a good many suggestions which would indicate that the trend is toward a recognition of the validity of social work as the proper preparation for work in the field of corrections. 5 T h a t this is a trend but not a fact everywhere is suggested by the statement issued in 1962 under the auspices of the National Council on Crime and Delinquency, advancing "preferred" and "minimum" standards for selection of probation officers: Preferred: A bachelor's degree with a major in the social or behavioral sciences and courses in delinquency and crime, plus a master's degree from a recognized school of social work. Such training is deemed to constitute full professional training. Minimum: A bachelor's degree with a major in the social or behavioral sciences and one of the following: (a) one year of graduate study in social work or a related field such as guidance or counseling, or (b) one year of paid, full-time casework experience under professional supervision in a correctional program or a recognized social agency. An applicant who has the bachelor's degree but not the additional training or experience specified above may be hired if the department has for such persons a special program of appropriate training under the supervision of a fully trained social worker. Such on-the-job training should not discourage, or be considered a substitute for, full professional training. In fact, additional formal graduate casework training should be encouraged through training stipends and through salary differentials for personnel who complete their professional training.® These suggested standards have been adopted in some agencies and not in others. In 1967 the Wayne County (Detroit) Juvenile Court was looking for treatment workers, who must hold master's degrees in social work. 7 The Hamilton County (Chattanooga) Juvenile Court, advertising for staff the same year, indicated it preferred that candidates for probation officer positions hold the master's degree in social work, but would employ "persons with bachelor's degrees with major course in social or behavioral science. 8 Also in 1967, the Montgomery County (Dayton) 5

Letter to the author, February 11, 1958. Professional Council Committee on Standards for Adult Probation, Standards and Guides for Adult Probation (New York: National Council on Crime and Delinquency, 1962), p. 19. T Recruitment circular by Wayne County Juvenile Court. » Advertisement in NCCD News, Vol. 46, No. 2, March-April 1967, p. 20. β

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CONSIDERATIONS

Juvenile Court advertised for probation counselors, who would have to hold at least a bachelor's degree in the social or behavioral sciences.* And in some jurisdictions probation and parole officers, as well as supervisory and administrative personnel, were acceptable even if they had not completed college. In a survey published in 1967, the National Council on Crime and Delinquency reported on the situation, countrywide, as in Table 15.1. It is not that agencies simply are not interested in college-educated workers (although this may be the case here and there). The cold fact is that in some regions such prospective workers simply are not available. The trend, however, has been in the direction of a gradual upgrading of recruitment standards as more college-educated personnel become available. TABLE 15.1. Percentage of Agencies Requiring Educational Qualifications For Staff By Type of Agency, Qualification, and Position Position by Type of Agency

None

High School

College Graduate

Directors Juvenile Probation Misdemeanant Probation Adult Probation Adult Parole

10.0 17.0 22.6 34.0

12.0 9.0 12.8 8.0

63.0 68.0 57.3 52.0

15.0 6.0 7.3 6.0

Supervisors Juvenile Probation Misdemeanant Probation Adult Probation Adult Parole

8.0 7.0 9.6 21.6

14.0 4.0 14.7 17.6

74.0 85.0 71.3 56.9

4.0 4.0 4.4 3.9

Officers Juvenile Probation Juvenile Parole Misdemeanant Probation Adult Probation Adult Parole

8.0 5.0 11.0 15.5 21.6

14.0 10.0 13.0 21.3 19.6

74.0 82.5 74.0 62.3 58.8

4.0 2.5 2.0 0.9

Adapted from: "Correction in the United States," Crime and Vol. 13, No. 1, January 1967, p. 242, Table 15.

Graduate Degree

—

Delinquency,

Assuming all the probation and parole agencies in the United States were agreed (as they are not) that they wanted only graduates of schools » ibid., p. 19.

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of social work, they could not begin to be served by existing educational institutions. If every graduate of every such school in a given year put his sheepskin under his arm and marched into a correctional agency, this still would not fill the need. Subtract from the total number of such graduates those who choose to work in other fields (the majority), and a pitiful handful of staff is left for probation and parole. What is the administrator of a correctional organization to do? If probation and parole agencies are to be increasingly staffed by social workers (assuming we agree this is desirable), the field must reach a great many more individuals who, as undergraduates, can be interested in corrections as a career and pointed in the direction of graduate schools. One of the first questions to answer is: How can we inform students there is a correctional field? A great many college students do not know there is a social work field and do not know that probation and parole are part of that field. Many of them, in the second semester of their senior year, casting about for a career, suddenly stumble on the facts. Courses in criminology and juvenile delinquency often do not include this information. Freshmen orientation courses do not include probation and parole as possible vocational opportunities. But suppose we have a great many more students with a baccalaureate who, in the near future, want to enter graduate schools of social work to prepare for careers in correctional organizations, where would we find enough schools? All together, they cannot turn out enough workers to satisfy the need in the social work field as a whole. We shall need more graduate schools. And all of them will need to accept the fact (as most of them are now accepting it) that correctional services are social work; that training for them is the province of the social work school; and that it is possible to practice social work in correctional settings. Given enough students interested in correctional work, enough graduate schools, and an acceptance that corrections is part of the social work structure, we will need to study existing curricula to make certain that specific adaptations of generic practice are provided. One of the points of resistance inside the correctional field undoubtedly has to do with the feeling that schools of social work do not provide enough of these specific adaptations. Perhaps we shall want additional courses, in and out of the school of social work: in law, criminology, probation and parole, psychology, etc. Corrections, after all, is interdisciplinary, as is all of social work.

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A serious impediment to effective staffing is that graduate training is very expensive. Despite handsome scholarships, fellowships, and stipends now available, many college graduates cannot afford to stay out of fulltime employment another two years in order to earn the Master's degree. And there are workers already in the field, holding the Bachelor's degree, who would like to return to school for graduate training but cannot afford to give up their salaries and take leaves of absence. Is the traditional pattern of graduate training, with daytime field work and daytime classes, to be conceived of as immutable? We are crying for workers, throughout the social work field, yet have not seen our way clear to do something to make it possible for more students to get training. Would standards inevitably suffer if classes were offered at night, so that part-time and even full-time workers could matriculate? Would the student receive a second-class supervised field training experience if social agencies gave such training evenings as well as by day? Much of social work function can be performed at night; in fact some of it can be done better in the evening than by day. Does the social agency have an obligation to the field as a whole to furnish evening internships? These are questions which cannot be answered without further thought and study. But they will have to be answered if we are to meet the demand for workers as it exists today and as it will continue for many years to come. Because social work schools have up to now not turned out enough graduates to fill the need, there has been a move in the direction of providing preprofessional social welfare curricula at the undergraduate level. Also, there have developed a number of undergraduate departments, not identified with social work as such, which offer courses in a "correctional curriculum" and the like. There has been much argumentation and considerable misunderstanding about this, particularly as to what such curricula can legitimately offer without lowering standards in the field. Those who see possibilities in the curricula assert: 1. So long as certain agencies, notably in public assistance, corrections, and group work, cannot get optimum staff through the graduate schools, it is desirable, and next best, to seek it at a lower level. 2. An undergraduate social welfare major would accomplish two desirable objectives. It would prepare students to enter graduate schools; and it would orient those going into the field directly with a Bachelor's

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degree. If holders of the baccalaureate are ipso facto eligible for appointment, is it not preferable that they have some orientation to the field they are entering? Is not an undergraduate major in social welfare more useful than one in physical education or chemistry or home economics? Those who oppose the idea of undergraduate curricula offer this critique: 1. To give any kind of social work orientation and training at the undergraduate level is a disservice to the field of social work, for it has the effect of lowering standards which the field has been fighting for generations to raise and maintain. An undergraduate student might profitably take a course like "The Field of Social Welfare," to give him a cross-section view, but that would be for the purpose of better preparing him for the graduate school. 2. An undergraduate is unprepared for methods courses. He cannot intern in a social agency. Without such field placement he will not get the training essential to later practice. It is impossible to transmit skills by classroom method alone. 3. To graduate people with a baccalaureate who have the impression they are social workers is a disservice to student and agency alike. Whatever position the reader takes, he will agree that these issues must be faced and worked out, one way or another, if we are to have guides for the education of probation and parole officers. The next decade will probably see a further trend toward some kind of preprofessional education. The writer believes it will, at a minimum, be based on these propositions: 1. Undergraduate preparation can serve the field of social work by enlisting interest on the part of students seeking careers. 2. It can better prepare those who will seek admission to graduate schools of social work. 3. It can furnish orientation that will be of some little benefit to those who must enter available fields of social work with only a Bachelor's degree, and this seems inevitable so long as graduate schools do not turn out enough workers. 4. Some courses, at present at the graduate level, probably can be taught as effectively at the undergraduate level, freeing graduate time for other work. "The Field of Social Welfare," "Social Legislation," and "Human Growth and Development" are three that come to mind in this connection.

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5. The undergraduate curriculum will always want to emphasize the desirability of a brotd liberal education as the base for later professional education. Most of the undergraduate major, in fact, will be devoted to this, with on'y a limited number of offerings which can be called "social welfare content" courses. 6. Informational material can be communicated in a classroom, but skills are learned by supervised practice only. 7. The undergraduate curriculum should not lead students to believe they will graduate as social workers. They should be given to understand clearly and unequivocally what the curriculum can and cannot do for them. They shou'd realize that only an internship such as at present is offered by graduate schools will make skilled practitioners of them. "Field experience" and "field observation" courses, occasionally given in undergraduate years, are no substitutes for a real internship. 8. An undergraduate major in social welfare is something distinct. It is not sociology, psychology, public administration, or general social science. It is social science and biological science and humanities and "something else." The something else is a small group of content courses intended to communicate social welfare knowledge and orientation. Much of what has been said to this point has focused on education, as distinguished from training. A word needs to be said about the latter. Training involves using one's education and self to gain appropriate experience for a given field. The medical student gains medical knowledge in the classroom. He receives training in certain courses, as for instance, dissection. He gets further training in an internship. The future social worker needs supervised field work training while in graduate school. He gets it there. He also needs in-service training when he begins his career, since each type of social agency has its adaptations, distinctive functions, and limits. Fortunately, many correctional agencies offer a carefully planned, systematic in-service program. Unfortunately, many do not. RECRUITMENT We have referred to the shortage of adequately educated and trained personnel available to the correctional field. What to do about it? First, let us get a more detailed picture of the need for manpower. Here is how the President's Commission assesses the situation:

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In the juvenile field there is an immediate need to increase the number of probation and parole officers f r o m the present 7,706 to approximately 13,800. . . . It is estimated that a total of 23,000 officers will be required by 1975 to carry out the functions essential to community treatment of juveniles. For adult felons there is an immediate need for almost three times the number of probation and parole officers currently employed. . . . [Population projections point to a requirement of a total of 23,000 officers in 1975. The need for officers for misdemeanants is staggering; 15,400 officers are needed as against 1,944 currently employed. The number needed in 1975 is estimated at 22.000. 1 0

Thus, the immediate need calls for doubling the nation's pool of juvenile probation and parole officers, tripling the number working with adult felons, and increasing sevenfold the number dealing with misdemeanants. The grim realization to be derived from these figures is that we shall remain hopelessly undermanned unless a concerted, nationwide effort is mobilized to interest, educate, train, recruit and retain between 75,000 and 100,000 individuals in probation and parole. With this in mind, a conference of correctional leaders and social work educators was called in June 1964 to consider ways and means. The delegates, representing 57 public and private associations, recommended the formation of a Joint Commission on Correctional Manpower and Training, for a three year period, to be financed by public and voluntary funds. The Commission would: 1. Identify the goals of corrections. 2. Identify the several tasks to be performed to achieve these goals. 3. Identify the knowledge, skills, and other qualifications needed to perform the tasks. 4. Identify the preparation necessary to achieve these skills. 5. Identify the disciplines which should contribute to, and the professions which should take responsibility for, the preparation of correctional personnel. 6. Take an inventory of present correctional jobs and project future needs. 7. Inventory and identify existing and needed resources for training. 8. Promote vigorous recruitment activities by the various professions. 9. Promote the development of added training resources. io The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, The Challenge of Crime in a Free Society (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 167.

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10. Take such other action as in its opinion will further the cause of correctional manpower and training. 11 This recommendation culminated in the passage by the United States Congress of the Correctional Rehabilitation Study Act of 1965, establishing a Joint Commission for a three-year period, with duties as recommended by the conferees. The Federal Government underwrites part of the cost, private organizations adding their share. The work of this Commission may mark the beginning of a surge forward in corrections, on the strength of increased and qualitatively improved personnel.

MERIT SYSTEM OR N O MERIT SYSTEM? Whatever their qualifications, candidates for correctional positions must be recruited according to the procedures of the particular jurisdiction. Many agencies still recruit by other than merit system methods, although the trend is in the direction of recruitment by competitive examination. Table 15.2 shows the national picture. Civil service and other merit systems offer no panaceas. They tend to overprotect the mediocre and average and to offer insufficient opportunity for advancement to the above-average worker. Nevertheless, few would disagree that they are superior to a system of recruitment via the spoils system. The National Council on Crime and Delinquency holds: "The best current thinking is that some form of merit system appointment through competitive examination, without residential restrictions and with assurance against arbitrary discharge, is both possible and eminently desirable. . . ." 12 If we do provide a merit system, examinations all too often fail to measure the qualities and abilities we seek in the officer. How are we going to get realistic evaluation of character and personality? Will either a written or oral examination assure this? Even knowledge of the field, while more measurable, is difficult to reduce to a score based upon examination of the applicant. And when opinion, point of view, breadth of vision, are being plumbed, the difficulties in measurement are pracn Adapted f r o m Decisions of the Arden House Conference on Manpower and Training for Corrections, June 24-26, 1964. (El Reno, Oklahoma: Printed by inmates of the Federal Reformatory, 1964), pp. 29-30. Paper. ι 2 "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 13, No. 1, January 1967, p. 60.

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TABLE 15.2. Merit System Coverage for Key Personnel, by System Director (Percent of states) 44.0 46.0 51.0 32.0

System

Juvenile probation Misdemeanant probation Adult probation Adult parole

Probation or Parole Officer (Percent of states) 44.0 46.0 51.0 32.0

Adapted from: The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 197, Table 14A.

tically insuperable. An intelligent testee can guess what is wanted and give it as his own. Merit systems, however, are refining their processes, and the past twenty years have seen some improvement. SALARIES Salaries are going up in correctional services. So are living costs. Considering that educational requirements are being raised, that most probation and parole practitioners are carrying excessive caseloads, and that they may be required to do a great deal of uncompensated overtime work, their salaries need to be higher than they are if recruitment problems are to be even reasonably well resolved. In 1966 the median beginning salary of a juvenile officer was $5,001 to $6,000. 13 For a parole officer handling adult felony cases it was $5,000 to $6,000. 14 The median beginning salary of a chief probation officer was $8,001 to $9,000. 15 In a comparable position, the median beginning salary of a chief parole officer was $9,000 to $10,000.16 But medians can be misleading. They are only somewhat more precise indicators than averages. The range makes this evident. For instance, in the adult probation field, the beginning salary for a chief probation officer varied from $2,400 to over $18,000; for staff supervisor, from $3,000 to $13,000; for probation officer, from less than $1,500 to $10,000." In the juvenile probation field the entrance salary of chief probation officers ranged from less than $2,400 to more than $18,000; of staff supervisors, from less than $3,000 to about $11,000; of probáis Ibid., p. 61. " Ibid., pp. 172-73.

ι* Ibid., p. 221.

16

Ibid., p. 61.

i« Ibid., p. 221.

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tion officers, from under $1,500 to about $11,000. 18 In the adult parole field, tho beginning salary for a parole director was in the $9,000 to $10,000 range; for a staff supervisor, the range was $7,000 to $8,000; and for a parole officer it was $5,000 to $6,000. In the juvenile parole field, beginning salaries for directors ranged from $6,001 to over $18,000; for supervisors, from $5,001 to $14,000; for parole officers, from $4,001 to $11,000. 1β CASELOADS What about caseloads? All past studies have shown that only a tiny proportion of organizations had workable caseloads. The bulk of probation and parole agencies frankly admit they place upon the worker a load so great as to make casework difficult in the extreme, if not impossible. Competent authorities assert that an officer's workload should not exceed 50 units a month. (Each case under active supervision is rated as one unit; each completed and written probation or parole investigation is rated as five units.) In the majority of jurisdictions this 50-unit formula is exceeded. It was reported in 1967 that over 76 percent of all misdemeanants and 67 percent of all felons on probation were in caseloads of 100 or over. 20 Only 8 percent of adult parolees were in supervision caseloads of 50 or under. 21 The public, legislators, and others concerned with budget must be helped to understand that an agency gets what it pays for, and so does the citizenry. It is economical to staff adequately. There are reasons to believe it costs the public more to apprehend and retry recidivists than it would to staff properly and supervise effectively. T H E LAW ENFORCEMENT FUNCTION One of the most persistent debates in corrections has to do with how far the probation and parole officer should go in performing the law enforcement function with which he is charged. No one denies he is so charged. 18 Ibid., p. 61. 1» Ibid., p. 107, Table 4. The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), pp. 4-5. 21 "Correction in the United States," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 13, p. 221. 20

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Few would have him altogether forget he has such function in law. The argument is over what this means by way of administrative policy. Just how much surveillance should officers undertake? Should they make arrests? Carry arms? Use handcuffs? Some say "yes," some "no," some "maybe," some "sometimes." Ervis Lester, then of the California Adult Authority, looked at it this way: Parole supervision is a two-sided endeavor—surveillance and treatment. "The surveillance aspect connotes a close, watchful scrutiny of the parolee's conduct with power to arrest and detain. The treatment side suggests professional guidance in meeting everyday problems as well as emergencies." 2 2 Which of these phases should dominate the work and philosophy of the parole officer, asks Lester. He agrees that there must be some amount of surveillance. But he points out that, "the usual reaction of parolees to surveillance is one of fear and distrust." It is his personal belief that: Fear of consequences is of small value in helping a parolee steer a true course. Pear is a negative factor and, as such, it has little if any influence upon the parolee who is full of hope and whose efforts are winning social and economic acceptance in his community.23 O n the other hand, for the person who is slipping, who begins to feel frustrated, fear is already present. "Surely it is not more fear that is needed—rather it is hope that might conceivably turn the tide." 24 Consequently, Lester suggests, the positive treatment aspect should receive the greater emphasis. The author believes that most thoughtful workers will agree with Lester, in general. We prefer to use the constructive treatment approach. It is, in most situations, more effective than the fear-inspiring technique. But we have not, by saying this, squarely faced up to all aspects of the question. Should or should not the officer, when indicated, do surveillance work? When is it indicated? What are all the law enforcement functions of the officer? Are they different for juveniles than for adults? Some years ago, Barnes and Teeters came out flatly for an officer who is unencumbered by law enforcement obligations: "Supervision does 22 Ervis W. Lester, "Parole Treatment and Surveillance—Which Should Dominate?," Proceedings, 82nd Annual Congress of Correction, 1952, pp. 53-56, reprinted in Charles L. Newman, (ed.), Sourcebook on Probation, Parole and Pardons, Second Ed. (Springfield, Illinois: Charles C. Thomas, 1964), pp. 277-81. m Ibid. 2« Ibid.

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not mean espionage; the parole officer must not be a policeman. He should be a friend in need, an advisor." 28 It is the opinion of the present writer that very few persons who have had field experience would agree completely with this postulate. It may seem plausible to the academician, but the man who handles probationers or parolees daily would very likely agree in the main with Lester and not with Barnes and Teeters. He would probably say: "It would be nice not to have to invoke my law enforcement powers. But, unfortunately, I cannot avoid this in some cases. And when it needs doing, it must be done, and I would be derelict in my duty if I did not do it." Administrators cannot blink the fact that their agencies are charged with community protection. They are expected to eliminate from their caseloads individuals who are obvious and immediate hazards. They cannot reject the fact that officers take an oath to enforce the law. This does not argue an all-out, billy-swinging, gun-toting approach. Rather, it calls for some interpretation. Let us return to the Barnes and Teeters statement. What do we mean by "espionage," which those authors assert supervision is not? It can mean various things. But if by it we mean investigation of facts, then supervision would appear definitely to involve such. Giving it an ugly name does not countervail the fact that many noncorrectional as well as correctional agencies investigate. The public assistance agency does. Child welfare agencies do. Adoption agencies do. Foster home placement agencies do. Medical social workers investigate. Is not the probation or parole officer properly charged with investigating what the individual under his supervision is doing? Social workers would say he is. They would not gag at the idea. They would say such "espionage" need not vitiate the casework function, although it would if ineptly handled. The parole officer, say Barnes and Teeters, should not be a policeman. What law, in what state, specifies that a probation or parole officer should be a policeman? None. He is a peace officer but not a policeman. Every policeman is a peace officer, but not every peace officer is a policeman. The correctional worker's peace officer functions are not precisely and altogether those of a policeman, and to say so is to set up a straw man with the intention of demolishing him. 2 5 Harry Elmer Barnes and Negley K. Teeters, New Horizons in (New York: Prentice-Hall, 1951), p. 791.

Criminology

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Should the officer be a friend in need, an advisor? Yes, indeed! Does this mean he cannot at the same time be alert to danger signals, to potential recidivism? It does not. Probation and parole officers may be credited with the ability to do both. To summarize: Every probation and parole officer has some responsibility for community protection. He hopes he will not have to emphasize this function in a given case, but recognizes this is inevitable at times. His emphasis is upon treatment, but that involves investigation of the behavior of his charges. He could not treat intelligently without some amount of investigation. He hopes so to treat that he will not have to invoke his law enforcement powers. But when that becomes necessary in the public interest, he will do so. He knows he must individualize, in surveillance as well as in treatment of another kind. Some persons require practically no field check. Others require close investigation. The aim of probation and parole, with adult or juvenile, male or female, is so to help the individual that he no longer wants to harm society. When that time comes and it often does—the law enforcement function becomes quiescent. Until then, realistic administrative considerations dictate that this function be not relegated to the scrap heap. The public would eventually rise up against such administration and tear down the good with the bad. LOSS OF CIVIL RIGHTS Under our theory of the State, a person's rights are supreme. He may not be deprived of them except by due process of law. An individual is deprived of his freedom when he is sentenced to a penal institution, but this is by due process. He has had a trial, under prescribed legal procedures. A defendant in a criminal action may be deprived of life, this, too, by due process of law. Such adjudications are individually imposed, on the basis of facts disclosed in court proceedings. There are other, general, rights lost by all individuals upon conviction, under our constitutions and penal codes.

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These losses, too, occur only after due process, that is, legal conviction and subsequent sentence. They apply to the entire aggregation of convicted persons. The judge has no discretion in the matter. The fact of conviction and imprisonment under certain circumstances in itself makes mandatory the revocation of certain rights. Those certain circumstances, for the most part, have to do with the length of period of incarceration and place where the time is served. For instance, the law usually invokes the disprivilege only upon conviction of a felony in which the defendant serves more than one year in a state prison. The disprivileged offender is not deprived of citizenship, except in a limited number of cases. These involve individuals coming under the U.S. Code, which provides that upon conviction for treason, attempting to overthrow or bear arms against the United States, or conviction by a court martial on a charge of desertion in time of war from the military or naval service of the United States, citizenship is forfeited. Additionally, naturalized citizens convicted of "crimes of moral turpitude" may be denaturalized under specified conditions. A disprivileged offender's property rights are in general secure, except as statutes may limit them. That is, in the absence of a contravening law, the convict may take, hold, and dispose of his property by will, deed or other method. In almost every state, a convicted felon may testify in a court proceeding, although, of course, his credibility as a witness is subject to challenge. What rights are lost? In five states, no rights are lost by conviction or imprisonment; in all of the other jurisdictions, a variety of civil rights are forfeited upon conviction and sentence under specified conditions. In twenty states, all rights that have been lost by conviction are restored when the disposition is probation and the probation term is satisfactorily terminated. 2 · In all but five states, the convict loses his franchise. In a half dozen states he is disqualified for jury duty. In most jurisdictions he is denied the right to hold public office, a position of trust, or certain other kinds of employment. Many states prohibit the issuance of certain licenses to those who have lost civil rights by virtue of a criminal conviction. Some restrictions are not imposed directly by statute but by administrative 2« The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and the Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections, p. 171.

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discretion authorized by statute, as for instance in laws dealing with issuance of professional licenses, with eligibility for public employment, and so on. Conviction of a felony with sentence to imprisonment is a ground for divorce in a majority of states. A minority provide that a defendant sentenced to a life term shall be deemed civilly dead. In several of these states, the statute permits distribution of the civilly dead convict's property as though he were naturally dead. Civil death dissolves the convict's marriage—although that same "dead" person is still obligated to support his dependents! In general, such rights as are not specifically revoked by law are deemed to be retained by the offender. Are civil rights forfeited where a defendant, although convicted, has sentence suspended? In many such cases, courts have ruled they are not. A juvenile adjudged a delinquent never loses his civil rights, whatever the disposition of his case. Misdemeanants usually retain their rights upon conviction. The statutes are strictly construed. Where the law speaks of prisons or penitentiaries, a commitment to a reformatory does not entail loss of rights. Despite strict construction, there is still some confusion and difference of interpretation as to particular rights lost in given states, the point at which they are forfeited, and whether and how they may be restored. The problem inherent in the forfeiture of civil rights upon conviction is that correctional workers, who are charged with seeing to it that rights forfeited shall not be exercised, recognize that the disprivileges, in many instances, impede the rehabilitation process. We say every citizen has an obligation to vote, but we do not allow certain offenders to exercise the franchise. We say that a man should work and support his dependents, yet we place impediments in the way of his obtaining employment and gaining income. And loss of civil rights is permanent, for the lifetime of the former offender, unless certain cumbersome steps are taken. The convicted person, in other words, never ceases being labeled a second-class citizen. "The inescapable record of conviction is a . . . disability that haunts an exoffender for the rest of his life." 27 « ¡bid., p. 171.

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Since loss of civil rights can so handicap an individual as to make it difficult for him to live honestly after release, the law must find some remedy. One is executive clemency in the form of a pardon to remove disability and restore all or certain civil rights. A more recent development has been the certificate of rehabilitation, also given other titles. The certificate is commonly issued by a parole authority or judge, as the law may direct. The governor usually must approve before the certificate may be issued. The President's Commission suggests other steps that might be taken. These have to do with probation, but they can readily be adapted to cover cases of former prisoners: One alternative is to authorize by law the automatic restoration of rights and to expunge the record upon the defendant's complying with certain conditions, such as satisfactory completion of the probation term. Another is to grant discretionary authority to the court to restore rights and expunge the record upon successful completion of probation.28

INTERSTATE COMPACTS In 1934 Congress authorized agreements, or compacts, among the states "for cooperative effort and mutual assistance in the prevention of crime." Since then, each of the fifty states has become signatory to an Interstate Compact for the Supervision of Parolees and Probationers. It has proven a very useful device for administering correctional services. The constitutional validity of the Compact has been upheld in state courts. The United States Supreme Court has as yet not had occasion to rule in the matter. The Compact provides: 1. Any state (called the sending state) may allow a probationer or parolee to go to any other state (the receiving state) if "such person is in fact a resident of or has his family residing within the receiving state and can obtain employment there." If the receiving state consents to an individual's entering its jurisdiction, the sending state may send him even though the residence qualification is not met. 2. The receiving state agrees to exercise the same care and treatment of the probationer or parolee as its standards require for supervising its own charges. 28 Ibid., p. 171.

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3. If a state wishes to retake a probationer or parolee who has left its jurisdiction under the terms of the Compact, officers of that state are empowered to apprehend the person in another state without any formalities other than establishing they have that authority and proving the identity of the individual to be retaken. The states have expressly waived the legal requirement to obtain extradition of fugitives from justice in returning such persons. The parolee or probationer has been required to sign a waiver of extradition as a condition of his being allowed to transfer to the receiving state. PUBLIC RELATIONS The writer queried 1,450 individuals by questionnaire as to their beliefs about probation and parole. They were, with the exception of 4 percent of the sample, college juniors and seniors majoring in the social sciences, over half of them planning to enter social work in the future. The 4 percent consisted of adults taking courses in police science, all of them engaged full-time in police work. This represented a far from typical sample of the general population. What makes the responses interesting is the very degree of selectivity. Here were intelligent people, informed in the social sciences, and sympathetically oriented to social work endeavors in the majority of instances. Here, too, were police officers, who are often hostile toward social work, who very likely had formed their opinions about probation and parole on the strength of direct observation and experience in the field. The group was asked to indicate whether a given proposition was true or false. If a respondent had no opinion, he left the item blank. A total of 57 percent marked as true the statement: "Most parole systems are inefficiently operated." Seventy-five percent believed most parole systems are influenced by politics in at least some of their operations; 41 percent thought "most adult probationers commit new crimes while on probation;" 37 percent said the same about parolees; 56 percent believed most probation systems are inefficiently operated; 70 percent said most probation systems are influenced by politics in at least some of their operations; and 19 percent believed that most crimes were committed by parolees or probationers. Judgments by police officers were, on the whole, harsher than those of the civilian students.

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This special kind of public believed certain things about probation and parole—largely uncomplimentary. Evidence establishes these opinions are unsound in certain respects. How is it we have not been able to illuminate such issues more effectively?29 A very important reason is that the correctional field has not been spectacularly skillful in public relations. Social work as a whole suffers from the same shortcoming. Probation and parole have something that its practitioners consider worthwhile. That something needs to be explained so that the public will understand and approve. The correctional worker has an obligation to inform the public, honestly, fairly, and lucidly, through the use of professional techniques and workers. The correctional field need not hide its light under a bushel. It can be proud of some of its attainments. But telling the story takes professional knowhow. Our less-than-spectacular success in handling public relations is partly a consequence of a lack of knowledge of how to develop it. It is also produced in part by the fears entertained by correctional personnel, especially administrators, with regard to the press and other media for developing consensus. In some places, it is considered "undignified," or "unprofessional," to give out statements or data to newspaper reporters or writers for "popular" magazines. The fears are compounded by the realization that social work treatment is subtle, difficult to explain, easy to oversimplify and distort in print. Almost any explanation of treatment processes for lay consumption is likely to suffer a sad fate. It will be caricatured, or watered down to the point of absurdity, administrators fear. Moreover, great harm can be done to people and programs by injudicious publicity. Case material, for instance, is vivid, but if made available to a great mass of people, it may produce injury to the individual concerned. Finally, the correctional administrator is insecure in facing representatives of mass media because he knows he cannot control the given medium. He cannot order it to say this or refrain from saying that. And yet, in an area commanding as much interest as crime, we must deal with and, hopefully, win the public over to our views. We can learn something from those relatively few correctional agencies that have developed reasonably effective public relations. They take the position, first of all, that probation and parole are public functions, 2» What follows is based in part on David Dressier, Probation and Parole (New York: Columbia University Press, 1951), pp. 207-25.

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financed by the people. Hence the public is entitled to know what is going on, how these tax-supported endeavors are operating. Agencies versed in public relations recognize they cannot choose either to deal with the press or not, as they see fit. Probation and parole are news, the public demands to be kept informed, and the press acts for that public in seeking news. Unless the public is in possession of the facts, it is in no position to back correctional services, to support them when they are assailed, to improve them when they require improvement. The answer to the fears concerning the media of public interpretation is not to avoid publicity, but to develop ways of getting better publicity for, and interpretation of, the objectives of corrections. Although publicity is not the alpha and omega of good public relations, it is one of the most important means of obtaining it. The handling of publicity, as well as the broader and more important function of public relations, are becoming an increasingly arduous and complex function in mass society. Public relations has become a study in itself. The correctional agency does best when it employs trained public relations counsel, and places that person at the policy level within the organization, in salary, status, and authority. But counsel alone cannot fashion public opinion. Every employee of the agency does so by the manner in which he performs his functions, his methods of dealing with people face-to-face, his effectiveness, and honesty. The agency must have something worth selling the public, else the public will sooner or later find out, and refuse to buy. THE SOCIAL SYSTEM OF CORRECTIONAL WORKERS The correctional administrator, however beset he may be by problems, has one great advantage in attempting to solve them. He, his staff, and all probation and parole treatment personnel make up a social system devoted to the furtherance of certain common aims. There may be tensions between staff and administration on some scores, but the basic objectives of probation and parole are the same for all levels of operation. Correctional workers share common elements of a subculture, "speak the same language," feel identified with each other. The social system influences the workers' job behavior and even their off-job behavior. There is a powerful force here, potentially.

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T. C. Esselstyn points this out, in an article for Crime and Delinquency,so based on a preliminary exploration of the social system of correctional workers. These workers, he found, socialized with each other on and off the job; the conversation was shop talk in considerable measure; the social contacts occurred frequently and were long-lasting. Esselstyn concludes that: the kinds of contacts examined in the study do tie correctional workers into a social system. All of the components for a social system are present: Association, a specialized language, channels for communication and interaction, recognized goals, shared values, accepted methods, a network of statuses and roles, and adjustment to change. Beyond the data reported further components may be found: tests for admission of new members and provision for their orientation and discipline, ways of cleansing the group of dangerous ideas, and appointed and functional leadership.31 There is food for thought here. Those who would improve probation and parole, who would bring it to optimum fruition, will do so most readily and effectively if they make use of the unity inherent in their social system. They must welcome, even require, the participation of staff in policy making and planning. Staff must meet its obligation in this respect. s°T. C. Esselstyn, "The Social System of Correctional Workers," Crime and Delinquency, Vol. 12, No. 2, April 1966, pp. 117-24. 81 Ibid.

16 New Directions Corrections has undergone extensive change in recent years, moved in new directions at an unprecedented pace. We noted some of these developments in preceding chapters. Certainly the increasing emphasis on community-centered programs has helped bridge the gap between incarceration and a life of freedom. Group approaches to treatment have expanded almost explosively. The correctional field is becoming research minded. Adequately educated and trained staff is a fact in some jurisdictions, a sincere aspiration in others. And, very gradually, there emerges the legal conception that prisoners, probationers, and parolees do have certain human and civil rights and are entitled to specific constitutional guarantees of due process.

DUE PROCESS AND ADULT OFFENDERS Although the subject of due process was touched upon in several earlier chapters, it is necessary to consider it further, in view of the importance of the issues involved. We indicated that probation and parole have been viewed as a privilege extended to offenders, and not as a right which is theirs. In the past, appellate courts have upheld this conception, the consequence being that reversal of the decisions of probation and parole authorities has been deemed not a matter within the power of an appellate court except where such decisions were clearly arbitrary, capricious, or in violation of a statute. Some questions put before appellate courts have been: May a defendant be denied probation when no investigation report on his case is

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before the trial judge? Does the defendant have a right to examine the investigation report bearing on his case? May he call witnesses to rebut? To cross-examine those whose statements are recorded in the probation report? Does a probationer have a right to a hearing, with counsel and his own witnesses, prior to revocation of probation? Does a prisoner have a right to counsel at his parole hearing? When he is being considered for revocation of parole? May he call his own witnesses and cross-examine those who have given information against him? May a parole authority revoke parole for alleged violations that are only partially substantiated, or entirely unsubstantiated by what would constitute acceptable evidence in a court of law? We cannot touch upon all of these issues here, but will cover enough ground, hopefully, to establish that the trend, gradual as it is, is toward protection of certain of the offender's civil rights. For the most part, appellate benches have upheld the proposition that although a trial judge must of course follow statutes on certain subjects concerning probation, where they exist, the jurist shall have wide, almost limitless discretion where law does not specifically stipulate what course or policy must be followed. Thus, where the law explicitly provides that a presentence investigation be made before sentence is pronounced, that course must be followed. A sentence passed without the investigation would be invalid.1 But where an investigation is not mandatory in law, or the law is silent on the subject, a judge's declining to order an investigation is neither a violation of due process nor an abuse of discretion.2 On the question whether a defendant has a right, in the absence of a statute so stipulating, to see the presentence investigation, state courts have quite consistently upheld denial of access,8 although the issue has not been ruled upon directly by the United States Supreme Court. In Williams v. New York* the United States Supreme Court did rule on certain related questions in connection with probation reports. Williams was convicted of first degree murder and sentenced to death, although the jury recommended life imprisonment. In determining the ι State v. Culver, 23 N.J. 495, 129 A.2d 715, cert, denied, 354 U.S. 255, 77 Sup. Ct. 1387 (1932). 2 People v. Roveano, 130 Cal. App. 222, 19 P.2d 506 (1933); People v. Sudduth, 14 111. 2d 605, 153 N.E. 2d 557 (1958). 3 United States v. Schwenke, 221 F.2d 356 (1955); State v. Moore, 49 Del. 29, 108, A.2d 675 (1954); State v. Benes, 16 N.J. 389, 108 A.2d 846 (1954). * 337 U.S. 241 (1949).

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sentence, the trial judge considered reports containing a good deal of information concerning the defendant's past history that had not been introduced at trial. Williams was denied the right to cross-examine the reports and persons who prepared them. He appealed, and his case eventually reached the nation's highest tribunal. Mr. Justice Black, speaking for the majority, concluded that due process does not demand that a defendant be permitted to cross-examine witnesses and reports used by the judge in determining sentence. He held: "We must recognize that most of the information now relied upon by judges to guide them in the intelligent imposition of sentences would be unavailable if information were restricted to that given in open court by witnesses subject to cross-examination." Mr. Justice Murphy dissented, asserting in a minority report that the judge exercised discretion vested in him to deprive a man of his life, relying on material made available to him in a probation report which consisted of evidence that would be inadmissible at the trial. "I am forced to conclude," he wrote, "that the high commands of due process were not obeyed." But that, we repeat, was minority sentiment of the high court. In the judgment of appel'ate tribunals, as emphasized in Chapter 13, courts have broad discretion in setting conditions of probation, and since a probationer must accept those conditions prior to being placed under supervision, he has little access to appeal if his probation is revoked for their violation. However, it has been ruled that a condition of probation may not require behavior which would be illegal, immoral, or impossible.® Wide latitude is given the probation system in intervening in the offender's life, regulating his expenditures, ordering restitution, and so on. A number of statutes specifically provide for a revocation hearing, and some case law sanctions and suggests it. But all in all, conditions laid down by judges, instructions given probationers, and procedures for investigating cases and revoking probation are not subject to judicial review if an actual statute has not been violated or if the court has not been patently arbitrary or capricious. In parole, essentially the same situation inheres. "Parole," in one court's opinion, "is an act of favor on the part of the State, not a matter of right »State v. Harris, 116 Kans. 387, 226 Pac. 715 (1924).

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on the part of the prisoner." β The great majority of appellate benches agree. It follows that "Paroles are favors granted by the State to convicted criminals and it may attach such conditions to the application for or the granting of the favor as it may deem proper, or may deny the favor completely." T The conditional liberty granted a parolee has been viewed as a contract. Parole violation consequently takes on the aspect of breach of contract. When the individual accepted parole, say the courts, he agreed to its terms and understood that he could be returned to serve out his sentence for a breach of contract. The conditional liberty granted him is "simply a procedure by which he is allowed to serve the balance of his sentence outside of prison," declares Eugene T. Urbaniak, Deputy Attorney General of the State of New Jersey. "During such time he continues in the legal custody of the prison authorities and under the supervision of the Parole Board, on certain conditions, for the breach of which he may be returned." 8 A parolee who has breached those conditions has the status of an escaped prisoner. He was already given full constitutional protection at the trial when he was convicted. After conviction, his constitutional presumption of innocence ceased. The constitutional rights extended to one accused of crime in the first instance should not be extended to one whose punishment, already legally imposed, is now to be enforced.9

Sol Rubin, Counsel to the National Council on Crime and Delinquency, would not agree entirely with Urbaniak. He has long held that parolees (as well as probationers) have not forfeited their constitutional rights to due process in certain proceedings. He points out 10 that interpretations on this score have gone through an evolutionary process, although the due process evolution in parole "is probably a little less vigorous than it is in probation." A sentence deprives a man only of those rights specifically taken away by the statute, Rubin says, and the punishβ State ex rei Kincaid v. State Parole Board, 53 N.J. Super. 526 (1959, App. Div.). t Mahoney v. State Board of Parole, 10 N.J. 269, (1952), appeal dismissed, 344 U.S. 871, 73, S. Ct. 173, 97 L. Ed. 675. 8 Eugene T. Urbaniak, "Due Process Should Not Be a Requirement at a Parole Revocation Hearing," Federal Probation, Vol. XXVII, No. 2, June 1963, pp. 46-50. » Ibid. 10 Sol Rubin, "Due Process Is Required in Parole Revocation Proceedings," Federal Probation, Vol. XXVII, No. 2, June 1963, pp. 4 2 ^ 6 .

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ments authorized are only those specified by the statute. The convicted defendant, and the prisoner, have rights. Already, Rubin points out, at least some appellate courts have moved, albeit very slowly, cautiously, and with numerous reservations, to the position that: 1. Parole may not be revoked at the whim of a parole board. It must have specific grounds upon which to base revocation. 2. The charge must be sustained by adequate evidence. 3. Revocation hearings should be held with reasonable promptitude. 4. The subject of a revocation hearing has the right to subpoena and cross-examine witnesses. 5. The parolee has a right to counsel at parole revocation hearings. But it is important to bear in mind that all of these rulings are with regard to a few particular cases in a few given jurisdictions. They do suggest an evolutionary trend. But in the majority of cases and jurisdictions, contrary rulings have been handed down, and are currently honored. The climate of the times, however, is such that there is a growing concern for the rights of a'l persons—including probationers and parolees —who are subject to administrative process in the criminal justice system. Changes in correctional philosophy have encouraged this concern for the rights of offenders. As long as the dominant purpose of corrections was punishment, the treatment of offenders could be and was regarded in law as a matter of grace in which offenders had few rights. But when decisions are made with the object of helping offenders, and when moreover they purport to have some rational or even scientific basis, it becomes anomalous to regard them as unreviewable matters of grace. 11

The United States Supreme Court took that position recently in the cases of Mempha v. Ray and Walkling v. Washington State Board of Prison Terms and Paroles, briefly alluded to in Chapter 13. Let us examine these cases more closely, as indications of a trend. In November 1967, the Court handed down its opinion covering both cases, and it was a unanimous position, which will indubitably have immediate and widespread ramifications, not only for probation, but parole as well. The two Washington State individuals had appealed rulings that revoked their probation and ordered execution of their suspended sentences. 11 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Corrections (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 14.

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Jerry D. Mempha had been placed on probation after a conviction for "joy riding" in a stolen car. His probation was revoked at a probation hearing in which he admitted he was involved in a burglary. At this hearing, Mempha, then 17, was not represented by a lawyer and was not asked if he wanted one appointed for him. His probation officer testified without cross-examination. In the second case, William E. Walkling was placed on probation following conviction for burglary. Probation was revoked after hearsay testimony that he was involved in forgery and grand larceny. Walkling's attorney failed to attend the probation hearing and the court did not offer to appoint a lawyer, and would not have done so had Walkling asked for one, the Supreme Court was informed. The Court's unanimous opinion was written by Associate Justice Thurgold Marshall, his first since his appointment to that bench a month earlier. For the Court, Marshall held that a man facing loss of his probation has the same constitutional right to a lawyer under the Sixth Amendment as has a defendant facing criminal charges. In the Supreme Court's opinion, a counsel is needed at probation revocation hearings because "certain legal rights may be lost if not exercised at this stage." If the probationer cannot afford a lawyer, the court must provide one.12 The immediate effect of the ruling was that it extended beyond Washington's borders, to all states. At the time the decision was handed down, probationers in seventeen states facing revocation were allowed representation by privately retained counsel, but had no right to courtappointed lawyers. In twelve other states the right to counsel varied from county to county. Elsewhere, the law was silent on the matter. The Supreme Court ruling meant that all states must allow, and when necessary furnish, counsel for the probationer at revocation hearings. Very likely, a similar issue raised by a parolee will bring a similar ruling. But that is only a beginning. Beyond question, other due process requirements will be demanded in appeals by probationers and parolees. The full effect upon correctional services cannot be assessed at this time, but it will certainly bring about changes in procedure within a relatively short time. Although individuals will not have an absolute right to probation or parole, they will quite likely gain certain guarantees that will enhance their chances for receiving such treatment. They may be auto12 Reported in Los Angeles

Times, November 14, 1967, Part I, p. 4.

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matically accorded the right to representation by counsel when the granting of probation or parole is under consideration. They will perhaps be permitted to produce witnesses in their own behalf on such occasions, to examine all of the evidence used to reach a decision, and to cross-examine witnesses who contributed to the probation or parole report. Persons under supervision will undoubtedly receive very careful attention before revocation is ordered, and such disposition will be based on solid evidence. It may even happen, eventually, that decisions concerning placement under supervision, and those having to do with revocation, will regularly be subject to judicial review, on the strength of codifications that come about through case law. All of these developments, if they occur, will work to the benefit of prospective and actual probationers and parolees. On the other hand, the wheels of justice wi'l turn more slowly and expensively. The powers of probation and parole officers will be cut back sharply. The authority of the supervising officer in dealing with his charges will be impaired, although not destroyed. Possibly, out of all of this evolutionary process will come new relationships between officers and persons supervised. Whether these will further or vitiate the treatment of offenders and protection of the community remains to be seen. DUE PROCESS AND JUVENILES A truly revolutionary thrust for due process occurred in 1967 with respect to juvenile court practice. Since the founding of the first such tribunal, procedures have been premised on the philosophy that the judge acts in the interest of, and not against, children believed to be delinquent, neglected, or dependent. Cases are "heard," not tried. Since this is not a criminal process, the juvenile is not covered under the Constitution's guarantee of due process. Appellate courts have held that, this being the case, appeals on behalf of juveniles, arguing they have been denied due process, are without merit. However, beginning roughly in the period following World War II, there has been objection to this point of view. Recent amendments to juvenile court laws have reflected a growing legis'ative concern over constitutional rights of juveniles. California and New York made basic changes in their juvenile court laws in the 1960s, carrying certain due process protections over into that area of jurisprudence.

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The United States Supreme Court, which had for the most part been silent on the many issues raised by juvenile court practice, wrote an opinion in March 1966 indicating it might not continue to remain aloof. This was in Kent v. United States.19 Morris A. Kent, Jr., 16 years of age, was arrested in Washington, D. C. on charges of housebreaking, robbery, and rape. The District of Columbia Juvenile Court waived jurisdiction, transferring the case to the United States District Court for criminal trial. There, Kent was convicted on six counts of housebreaking and robbery, but acquitted on two rape counts by reason of insanity. The Supreme Court reversed the conviction, on the narrow issue of the validity of the waiver by the juvenile court. It struck down the waiver on grounds that the juvenile court had failed to grant a hearing, to provide counsel access to records, and to state reasons for its waiver order. True, the ruling rested on an interpretation of the District of Columbia juvenile court statute only, but it made clear that the result was reached by reading the statute "in the context of constitutional principles relating to due process and the assistance of counsel." 14 In other words, the Court was hinting that it believed the Constitution did contain provisions applicable to juveniles in noncriminal proceedings anywhere. And on May 15, 1967, the hint became a flat assertion when the Supreme Court handed down its historical 8 to 1 opinion in the Gault case.15 Gerald Gault was adjudicated a juvenile delinquent in 1964 by the Gila County, Arizona, juvenile court. He was 15 at the time. The court, satisfied that Gault had made lewd telephone calls to a female neighbor, committed him to the State Industrial School at Fort Grant "for the period of his minority." His parents, assisted by attorneys furnished by the American Civil Liberties Union, eventually got the case before the United States Supreme Court, challenging the constitutionality of the Arizona juvenile court law in a habeas corpus petition for Gault's release. They argued that the Arizona statute failed to provide certain due process safeguards to which juveniles are in fact entitled. The parents maintained they had not been given adequate notice of the charges against their soni that the comía Kent v. United States, 383 U.S. 541 ( 1966). » In Re Gault, 387 U.S. 1 (1967).

" Ibid., at 557.

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plainant had not testified; that the Gaults had not been offered the assistance of counsel; that the boy had not been told his testimony could be used against him; that no transcript of the hearing had been made; and that, in violation of the due process principle, the Arizona law does not permit a juvenile court decision to be appealed. The Supreme Court ruled, for the first time in our history, that children in juvenile court delinquency proceedings must be accorded the following safeguards of the Bill of Rights: 1. Adequate notice of the charges. 2. The right to an attorney, court-appointed if necessary, in any case that might result in commitment to an institution. 3. The right to confrontation and cross-examination; and the privilege against self-incrimination. Additionally, the high court attacked the parens patriae principle, which had been employed to justify socialized court procedures as differentiated from criminal proceedings. But most importantly and overall, the Court's conclusion was that a person is entitled to the protection of the due process clause of the 14th Amendment regardless of his age. This will bring about immediate and far-reaching changes in juvenile court laws and procedures. It is too early to predict all of them, but an educated guess would indicate the following: In time, police and probation officers will be required to advise the minor that anything he says may be used against him. He will be informed of his Constitutional privileges, including the right to remain silent, to have counsel present during any interrogation, and to have counsel appointed if the minor cannot afford to engage his own. Courts will probably be required to furnish the minor a notice of the charges at some point in the proceedings; to furnish protection against self-incrimination; to keep a full transcript of all proceedings and to provide a copy for the minor; to furnish a jury upon demand of the minor or his counsel; and to provide avenues for appellate review of juvenile court proceedings. Because all records will be available to the minor, investigation reports will very likely be much more carefully prepared than ever, with great attention to documentation of allegations, and a more careful discrimination between what is evidence and what is hearsay or supposition. The proceedings will be more formal, and there may be attempts in some

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jurisdictions to introduce a prosecutor into the courtroom, inasmuch as the minor is to be allowed his defense counsel. Because jury trials slow u p hearings, there will most likely be an attempt (subtle or otherwise) on the p a r t of juvenile court judges to discourage requests for such trials. A n d — t h e final logical extension of Gault—if juveniles have d u e process rights in court, they have t h e m while on probation and parole. Thus, conditions of suspension as well as revocation will increasingly be subject t o the same judicial review as in the case of adults. Some judges and probation administrators hail the new era, some cry havoc, that it will impede the h u m a n i t a r i a n approach to treatment and possibly wreck the entire philosophy of juvenile courts eventually, to the detriment of the child. W e shall h a v e to await the verdict of history in this matter. Meantime, A l a n Neigher, Office of the General Counsel, U . S. D e p a r t ment of Health, Education, and Welfare, cautions: It is not questioned that Gault will have a major impact on the future of juvenile courts in this country. . . . It is submitted, however, that the Gault decision is neither a panacea for children in trouble nor an onerous burden for juvenile law enforcement officers. . . . The decision may make life a bit more difficult for judges and probation officers. It is clear that at the very least, Gault will grant some semblance of consistent legal protection to the child. . . . . But the decision does not accord to juveniles all of the protections of the Bill of Rights. All juvenile courts—with the exception of the District of Columbia—are, in fact, state courts. The Bill of Rights has not yet been made applicable in its entirety to state criminal proceedings. Further, the Gault decision was limited to but a few Bill of Rights issues. This must be kept in mind, although, . . . the decision was as significant for what it suggested as it was for what it actually held as binding legal precedent. 16

HELP FOR THE PROBLEM

DRINKER

A 69-year-old m a n a p p e a r e d in a Syracuse, New Y o r k , police court, charged, for the 2 7 7 t h time, with public intoxication. H e had served a total of 16 years in the penitentiary, in short "jolts." H e was committed there once more, for six months. 1 7 16

Alan Neigher, "The Gault Decision: Due Process and the Juvenile Courts," Federal Probation, Vol. XXXI, No. 4, December 1967, pp. 8-18. " Syracuse Herald American, August 22, 1965, p. 30.

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In 1957 a District of Columbia committee studied six chronic offenders, found they had been arrested for drunkenness a total of 1,409 times, and had served a total of 125 years in penal institutions.18 The drunk is a very serious problem for law enforcement and the criminal justice system, in sheer numbers alone. In 1965 two million arrests, one out of every three in the United States, were for public drunkenness. 18 To be sure, many of those arrested in any given year are not problem drinkers but college boys on a "toot," weekend partygoers, and holiday celebrants foolish enough to attempt to drive home while inebriated. But a great many arrests for drunkenness are of repeaters. The majority are homeless men, picked up off Skid Row, most frequently arrested because of their high visibility and low standing in the power structure. Others are men and women from all walks of life whose habitual drinking brings them to commit crime, petty and heinous. These are our problem drinkers. They include chronic alcoholics and binge drinkers. It is they who fill police blotters, clog the courts, jam our jails, tax our probation departments dealing with misdemeanants, and burden parole officers handling state prison releases. What are we doing for individuals who have drinking problems? Pathetically little. We have, however, made some progress in recent years.

PROBLEM DRINKING VIEWED AS AN AILMENT

For one thing, we are beginning to accept that habitual intoxication is a disease rather than a crime, and should be treated from that perspective. The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice has gone so far as to recommend: Drunkenness should not in itself be a criminal offense. Disorderly and other criminal conduct accompanied by drunkenness should remain punishable as separate crimes. The implementation of this recommendation requires the development of adequate civil detoxification procedures.20 ι 8 Reported in The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and the Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Drunkenness (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 1. ι» Ibid., p. 1.

20 Ibid., p. 4.

NEW DIRECTIONS ALTERNATIVES TO PENO-CORRECTIONAL

311 APPROACHES

Already, this view has been implemented by several experimental projects. The Vera Institute of Justice in New York City has been exploring the feasibility of using nonpolice personnel to pick up drunks and offer them treatment on a voluntary basis. The Vera program would circumvent the criminal process, the drunk not being routed through the courts but becoming the concern of a system within a public health framework, designed to serve the immediate and long-range needs of the Skid Row inebriate. The South End Center for Alcoholics and Unattached Persons, in Boston, also provides an alternative to the police-correctional process for handling homeless alcoholics. Personnel of the Center approach homeless inebriates in Skid Row, offering them assistance. About 80 percent accept help. The Center screens and evaluates cases, referring the alcoholics to appropriate community facilities. Alternate approaches to the present methods of handling drunks in the criminal courts are being widely discussed. It has been recommended that municipalities establish civil "detoxification centers" to replace the police station as the initial detention unit for inebriates. Under the authority of civil legislation the intoxicated individual would be conducted to a public health facility by the police and held until sober. Thereafter, he could leave or decide to accept treatment offered by the public health system. If advanced medical care were indicated, the individual would be removed to a hospital. ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

Problem drinkers have been greatly aided by Alcoholics Anonymous, a self-help program in which alcoholic helps alcoholic. Probation and parole systems have been making extensive use of it as an adjuvant to more traditional treatment. Probationers with a drinking problem are encouraged to join an Alcoholics Anonymous group. Prisons have established intramural A. A. units. Paroled alcoholics are urged to continue membership in a community group. Alcoholics Anonymous keeps no statistics on its results, this being contrary to its "anonymous" philosophy, but its central office estimates that perhaps half of those who get "on the program" eventually stop drinking.

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312 HALFWAY HOUSES

We have already made reference in this volume to halfway houses, community-centered installations where alcoholics, among others, are offered help in adjusting to the stresses of community life. Recent years have witnessed the expansion of these "recovery homes," as they are sometimes called. Some are publicly, some privately, financed in whole or part. Most are small, housing less than thirty persons. This facilitates a close relationship between counselors (who in some instances are themselves "recovered" alcoholics) and their charges. Residents are expected to get jobs as soon as feasible, and to pay toward their room and board when able to do so. A number of halfway houses were established through the efforts of Alcoholics Anonymous members, but that organization does not directly control or operate the facilities. Some are sponsored by church organizations. Most recently, municipal governments, probation and parole agencies, and state-federally financed groups have undertaken pilot projects to serve problem drinkers in halfway houses. HELP FOR THE NARCOTICS ADDICT The narcotics addict has been an even more serious problem than the alcoholic, in terms of the stubbornness of the addiction, although not in the total number of known addicts. All conventional treatment methods have proven relatively ineffectual. Here again, we have seen some progress (although not a great deal) in the direction of new treatment approaches. The user, as differentiated from the manufacturer and seller, is beginning to be viewed as a sick person rather than a criminal, at least here and there. The California Penal Code was revised to accord with a United States Supreme Court decision, in Robinson v. California,21 which declared a section of that state's Health and Safety Code unconstitutional in that it prescribed criminal punishment for having the status of a drug addict. In 1965 a Civil Addiction Commitment Procedure was set into California's Welfare and Institutions Code. The intent was to make civil commitment proceedings for the addict the equivalent of similar legal proceedings for the mentally ill. Results have not been outstanding, according to Richard O. Nahrendorf. In a paper prepared for presentation at the 1968 meeting of the Pacific Sociological Association, he calls attention to the fact that for various reasons, including 21 8 L Ed. 2d 658.

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police and court attitudes, the civil commitment process is often bypassed in favor of jail and prison sentences for addicts. 22 In November, 1966, the Narcotic Rehabilitation Act became law, applicable to federal cases. Among other specifications, it provided for civil commitment of addicts in lieu of criminal prosecution under federal statutes. Persons found to be addicts are to be sentenced to commitment for treatment after conviction of federal offenses. Drug addicts not charged with a criminal offense may also be committed civilly. Perhaps, stimulated by the federal model—if it works—the states will follow suit, treat addicts as addicts, not criminals.

REHABILITATION

CENTERS

Some states have established rehabilitation centers for addicts. An example is the facility operated by the California Youth and Adult Corrections Agency since 1961. Most of the inmates are addicted misdemeanants and felons who have been convicted in California and committed by order of the courts. The program includes both inpatient and outpatient treatment. Addicts remain in the installation for at least six months, although the average stay is close to fifteen months. During this inpatient period they receive psychological therapy, and may make use of work therapy programs, vocational training, and a full academic course through high school. Upon release to outpatient status, the individuals concerned are supervised by publicly salaried caseworkers with special training and small caseloads. Outpatients are chemically tested for the presence of drugs five times a month, both on a regular and a surprise basis. This continues for at least six months. Indication of relapse to drugs results in return to the institution. A halfway house, Parkway Center, provides guidance for those who are making a marginal adjustment in the community. The patient is eligible for final discharge when he has three drug-free years as an outpatient. There were 5,300 admissions to the rehabilitation center between September 15, 1961, and December 31, 1965. During the same period 3,243 persons were transferred to outpatient status. Although many were returned to the Center one or more times, 1,700 individuals were on 2 2 Richard O. N a h r e n d o r f , "A Correctional D i l e m m a : The Narcotics Addict." Paper prepared for presentation at the Annual Meeting of the Pacific Sociological Association, M a r c h 21—23 in San Francisco, January, 1968.

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outpatient status as of December 31, 1965. Twenty-seven had been finally discharged. 23 NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS

A program for narcotics addicts based on Alcoholics Anonymous principles was developed, first in New York, then in Los Angeles. Called Narcotics Anonymous, its procedures are the same as in Α. Α., that is, addict works with addict in a process of rehabilitation. Indications are that N. A. does help its members. Some N. A. groups have been formed inside correctional institutions, and released inmates are encouraged to continue on the program on the outside. Many members of N. A. attending community groups are graduates of hospitals and prisons. Some are on probation and parole. The founder of the Los Angeles group has been "clean" for some twenty years. HALFWAY HOUSES

Probably the best known halfway house for narcotics addicts is Synanon, and perhaps it ought not to be classed as a halfway house, since many of its residents remain for long periods of time. This privately financed anti-addiction organization, established in 1958, was discussed at length in Chapter 11. So, too, was Daytop Lodge, on Staten Island, New York. PAROLE

PROJECTS

Several projects have been designed to give special attention to parolees who are or have been addicted to drugs. Specially trained parole officers do intensive work with small caseloads. The theory is that since a parole agency has considerable authority over its charges, it is in a favorable position to arrange and coordinate their adjustment in the community. The outpatient phase of the California rehabilitation center, described above, is a special parole program in method, although it is not called parole and its agents are classified as caseworkers. The prototype of such a program was developed in New York, under the auspices of the New York State Division of Parole. Called the Special Narcotic Project, its 1960 report gave the results of a study of 23 The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, Task Force Report: Narcotics and Drug Abuse, (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), pp. 14-15.

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344 addict-parolees supervised between 1956 and 1959. Of the total number supervised, 119 offenders had never been declared delinquent. Another 36 had been declared delinquent for reasons not related to drug use. Thus, 155, or 45 percent, were found to be abstinent. However, a follow-up study of the same project parolees found that by the end of 1962, the abstinence rate had fallen to 32 percent. The New York project now operates as the Narcotic Treatment Bureau. In December 1966, there were 22 parole officers in the Bureau, each carrying an average of 30 parolees. The treatment consists of close supervision and checks for drug use, plus intensive counseling. WORK AND STUDY "FURLOUGHS" A step toward easing the transition from custody to freedom, begun experimentally for the first time over fifty years ago, saw little further development until comparatively recently. Variously designated as work furlough, intermittent sentence, day parole, outmate program, and (most frequently) work release, it originated in Wisconsin in 1913, when a bill was passed authorizing work release for county jail prisoners. The idea spread slowly and, when implemented at all, offered the program mainly to misdemeanants in municipal and county jails. In 1959, however, North Carolina set up a work release program for adult felons. Favorable experience in that state encouraged other jurisdictions to establish similar programs for felons. South Carolina, Maryland, and other states instituted their work release systems in the early 1960s. By 1966 twenty-eight states were utilizing the concept to some degree. The Federal Government instituted its plan, under the Prisoner Rehabilitation Act, in September 1965. With some local adaptations, a work release program permits a prisoner to leave his place of detention to work at a regular job, at prevailing wages, in the outside community. He is thereby enabled to maintain his work skills or learn new ones. His earnings help support his dependents and give him a "stake" to start out with when he is a free man. The prisoner leaves for work in the morning, returns when he is finished, spends nights, weekends, and any other period when he is not working outside, in incarceration. Depending upon the particular system, he may arrange his own transportation to and from work, or be trans-

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ported by institution bus. He purchases his own tools, pays union dues and income taxes out of earnings. These earnings are not held by the inmate. They are turned in to a designated institutional official, who credits them to the prisoner. In some (not all) jurisdictions, money is deducted for board, room, clothing, and other personal expenses. If the prisoner has dependents, part of what he earns goes for their support. A stipulated amount may be spent by the inmate at the institutional commissary. A relatively small number of prisoners have abused the privilege of work release. Over-all results are reported as gratifying. In the federal system, where prisoners may take outside employment approximately six months before their expected parole date, very few have had the privilege withdrawn for violations. In North Carolina, where inmates are eligible for such release when they have served a relatively small portion of their sentences, cancellation of the privilege occurs in about 15 percent of the cases, mostly because of absconding. 24 Particularly appropriate for juvenile and youthful offenders, but also open to adults in some jurisdictions, is a variant of this program called study release. It has been established in several states as well as in the federal prerelease guidance centers. Under this plan inmates are permitted to leave the institutional setting in order to continue their education. It may be academic or vocational. Michigan is believed to have been the first state with a college-level program. Here, in 1968, eleven men from two state prisons became engaged in the first test of the idea, leaving their respective institutions daily to pursue an education on a college or university campus, returning to their cells at night or over weekends. They carry their lunches with them, but may eat in the school cafeteria if they prefer. If the prisoner or his family is able, he pays for the study or vocational training. Other sources of funds are the GI bill and the United States Office of Vocational Rehabilitation. The prisoner-students wear clothing appropriate to campus life. They are not known to other students as prisoners unless they themselves reveal they are. One rule may be irksome to some, although it has caused no difficulty to date. The prisoner-students must not date coeds. 2 * The President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, The Challenge of Crime in a Free Society (Washington, D.C.: United States Government Printing Office, 1967), p. 177.

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VOCATIONAL REHABILITATION A great many prisoners, probationers, and parolees lack vocational skills. Theoretically, if they had them they would earn better incomes than previously and be less susceptible to recidivism. Federal and state governments have long carried on vocational rehabilitation programs, but these have been confined largely to physically and mentally handicapped persons. More recently, the conception has arisen that individuals with criminal records are socially, if not physically or mentally, handicapped, and hence should be eligible for vocational rehabilitation benefits. The passage, in 1965, of a federal law (Public Law 89-333) as an amendment to the Vocational Rehabilitation Act, has enlarged the opportunities for the Vocational Rehabilitation Administration to contribute to the corrections field. Mary E. Switzer, Commissioner of Vocational Rehabilitation for the United States Department of Health, Education and Welfare, writes: Over the years, vocational rehabilitation agencies have had a philosophy that the handicapped citizen has a right to services which will enable him to live as a self-sufficient and productive member of society. . . . Many public offenders are, in fact, disabled persons and are, therefore, eligible for as many of these programs and services as may be required. The actual services are performed, or arranged for, by professional rehabilitation counselors working within the state rehabilitation agencies. 29

Over forty states now have programs cooperatively involving their vocational rehabilitation agencies and correctional institutions, probation and parole departments, training schools, and jails. An example is at the Georgia Industrial Institute, a reformatory for young offenders. With funds provided by the state's Department of Corrections, the Georgia Division of Vocational Rehabilitation established a facility inside the reformatory to prepare inmates to make adequate vocational and social adjustments when they return to their home communities. The VR unit consists of over twenty persons, who offer a full range of vocational rehabilitation services. Similar undertakings are under way in Tennessee, Oklahoma, and South Carolina, through employment of a so-called third-party matching arrangement. Under this plan a state correctional institution transfers Mary E. Switzer, "Vocational Rehabilitation and Corrections: A Promising Partnership," Federal Probation, Vol. XXXI, No. 3, September 1967, pp. 12-17.

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funds to the state VR agency. This money is matched by the agency with federal funds under Section 2 of the Vocational Rehabilitation Act. The VRA has provided partial support for research and demonstration projects promising substantial contributions to the solution of problems common to the states. The balance of the funding comes from various matching arrangements. One demonstration was begun in November 1965. It is in effect actually a series of eight projects in which state rehabilitation agencies help prisoners at federal penitentiaries and probation officers. Known as the Federal Offender Rehabilitation Program, the purpose of the project is to make a three-year study of the effectiveness of the service and to develop methods that can be adopted by the vocational rehabilitation agencies in working with their own state penal institutions. In addition to the VR agency, participants in the study are the U. S. Bureau of Prisons and the U. S. Board of Parole. OFFENDERS AS STAFF One of the most intriguing and imaginative excursions into new byways has been that which employs offenders and former offenders as correctional staff. Shortage of more conventional personnel accounts for this in part, but the experimentation is also based upon the belief among the more adventurous that, as in Alcoholics Anonymous or Synanon, certain problems of those who have offended against the law are best attacked by individuals who have themselves suffered from these problems and run afoul of police and courts. Twenty years ago, most correctional administrators would probably have questioned that persons with police records could or should be used to work with probationers or parolees in a helping role. What constructive help could they render? Would they not, rather, reinforce delinquent and criminal values? Could they ever be trusted to represent law and order? Perhaps a great many veterans of correctional administration still feel that way, but there are the few who dare to hope that in some areas of endeavor the man with a record may succeed where the solid, "professional," middle-class worker has not been so fortunate. The experimentation rests on the assumption that some individuals, including those with police records, are by nature, talents, and conditioning "change agents," able to bring about personality and behavior

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alterations in other individuals. Presumably, many social workers, psychotherapists, ministers, personnel managers, community organizers, and labor-management consultants are change agents. A Boy Scout leader, an athletic director, a policeman on foot patrol, may prove to be a change agent. So, we are discovering, may given ex-offenders, prisoners, probationers, or parolees. They are accomplished communicators, who talk the offender's language because they have been part of the same subculture. They are not easily "conned." There is virtually no social distance between them and others who have been in legal difficulties. Another fact that appeals to those who are experimenting with the use of former offenders as change agents is that these agents, who adopt a helping role, may thereby help themselves. They "tend to be people who have had little reason to feel that their lives are purposeful, for they are usually on the receiving end of help and so are seldom able to enjoy the ego-building effect of being important to someone else." 29 In helping others, they gain ego-support, help themselves. THE PINE HALL PROJECT

An early attempt at using inmates (nonpaid) as treatment workers was in the "milieu therapy" program of the Pine Hall Project, at the California Institution for Men, Chino, California. It was part of a statefinanced, four-year experiment with "intensive treatment programs." The objective was to test the effectiveness of a therapeutic community consisting of a selected group of thirty young, first-time felony offenders housed in a separate unit of the institution. The men met daily for discussion oriented to "here and now" behavior, that is, how one ought to behave in the immediate situation. This session was followed by small "social therapy groups." These sessions were originally led by staff, but in time the inmates conducted them, and those who proved to have leadership qualities emerged as "social therapists." In this second phase, staff served primarily as consultants. The social therapists, or group coordinators, met with staff for daily tutorials. They were also free to ask for help in gaining a better understanding of themselves, particularly in their new role as group leaders. Weekly seminars were set up for this purpose. Additionally, psychiatrists and other correctional officials were available for consultation. 28

Paul W. Keve, Imaginative Programming in Probation and Parole (Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1967), p. 202.

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Those inmates who wished could take an extension course in social therapy, conducted by the University of California. As other inmates moved into group coordinator roles, the veterans helped train them. As the project progressed, inmate participants organized a selection committee to screen new members of the project, with the aid of staff. An interesting sidelight was that "the committee was less interested than staff in historical information, but more concerned about the extent of identification with the delinquent culture." 27 Members of the project performed a number of tasks normally assigned to staff. Inmate foremen and work-dispatchers, cooperating with staff, planned the work-crew assignments of the project group. The foreman and work-dispatcher functions were rotated among the project members, so that all would experience the supervisory role. The men also established a program for screening, selecting, and training volunteers to act as a "night watch." One prisoner served as the project's research clerk, studying the behavior of inmates and staff, and assessing the need for change. THE CHYDARU

PROJECT

North Carolina made a direct connection with the Pine Hall Project, on behalf of its Chydaru (Chapel Hill Youth Development and Research Unit) program, which was inaugurated in May 1964 28 as a joint undertaking of the state's Prison Department and the Institute of Government at the University of North Carolina. A prison camp for youthful felons transferred from the state penitentiary was opened near Chapel Hill, on semi-rural acreage in a relatively isolated locale surrounded by woods. A few crude wooden frame buildings served as living quarters. Capacity of the camp was twenty inmates. What was unique about the project was that, as it turned out, (partly by chance), the installation was staffed entirely by parolees, who were full-time, paid employees. The Chydaru program was cooperatively worked out by California and North Carolina officials. It was to be a pilot therapeutic community in an open prison camp setting for selected first offenders. An experi27 Judith G. Benjamin, Marcia Κ. Freedman, and Edith F. Lynton, Pros and Cons: New Roles for Nonprofessionals in Corrections (Washington, D.C.: U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, Welfare Administration Office of Juvenile Delinquency and Youth Development, 1966), p. 37. 28 For what follows on this subject I depend largely upon Ibid., pp. 38-40; and Paul W. Keve, Imaginative Programming in Probation and Parole, pp. 211-15.

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enced superintendent would administer it and direct the group therapy process. The other staff members would be "culture carriers," former inmates who had experienced and benefitted from the kind of group therapy used at the California Institution for Men at Chino. They would be selected because they appeared to be change agents. Having been helped themselves by the group processes, it was hypothesized, they would make especially effective staff members, bringing the same therapeutic processes to bear on the North Carolina inmates. A Pine Hall Project staff member at Chino selected six men, all but one graduates of the Project, all currently on parole, who had been under supervision for six months to a year without getting into difficulties. All of them had shown marked progress in personal motivation, and skill in using the group therapy process. The men were sent to North Carolina, still in the status of parolees, under the Interstate Parole and Probation Compact. A superintendent had not been found by the time they arrived, and one of the parolees was temporarily placed in the post. The temporary assignment became permanent when no correctional administrator was located for the post. The parolee carried the title and responsibility throughout the thirteen months of the camp's operation. The atmosphere of that camp would probably bemuse many seasoned correctional administrators. Ordinarily, prison programs are highly structured and rigidly regimented. Chydaru's was largely unstructured and unregimented. There was no preordained daily schedule, no planned and imposed work program. Each day, the residents themselves decided what needed to be done in the camp, and they then organized to get it done. Those who wished to work at regular jobs in the free community did so, on work release. Two were employed outside as "police aids," tutoring and counseling potential dropouts! The permissive aspects of the camp program created an atmosphere of freedom and brightness that was an impressive departure from the usual tense and repressive moods of prisons. A visitor coming on the grounds would be greeted cordially by a friendly group of young men among whom the staff and residents were indistinguishable from each other. They obviously felt under no pressure and yet it was evident from the projects completed that work was getting done. Furthermore, there was pride in the work accomplished. 2 9 29

Paul W. Keve, Imaginative Programming in Probation and Parole, p. 213.

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Work, and the responsibility it imposed, were only a part of the total program. Small groups, led by inmate social therapists, met on afternoons to discuss work projects and other matters of concern to the individual prisoners. Every night, the staff conducted larger group therapy discussion meetings. At daily sessions between staff and clinicians from the Institute of Government, administrative and treatment problems came in for discussion. Problems, of course, did arise. The relative absence of structure, the very permissiveness and freedom, created anxiety. Everyone likes to know the limits of a situation, how far he may safely go in a given direction. The absence of clearly delineated limits is anxiety-provoking. Inmates would be likely to wonder, uneasily: "Do they really mean we can decide things for ourselves?" "Are they just tempting us to misbehave?" "They say it's OK to live this way, but what will the parole board say? How will we prove to the board that we tried hard to change for the better?" Because of insecurity developed out of the permissive camp system, some inmates became uncomfortable and asked to be transferred back to the penitentiary. Others, perhaps because freedom was "too rich for their blood," stayed away from camp overnight on "unauthorized leave," and had to be committed to custodial institutions. Several committed criminal offenses necessitating further legal action. Another problem, it became clear as the camp project got into full swing, was that inmates found it difficult to believe that the staff could not be "conned" and manipulated. "There was an understandable assumption on the part of any new resident that the ex-convict staff would naturally be on the side of the inmate in any mischief; so the staff had a constant problem in having to reject firmly the role of fellow convict and to insist strongly on being 'staff in a true sense." 30 Finally, the staff itself constituted somewhat of a problem. One California parolee identified more with the inmate culture than with the objectives of the staff. (He was the one who had not been part of the Pine Hall Project.) Two, reared in a large city, could not adjust to the rural, somewhat isolated environment.31 A fourth left for undocumented reasons. But no parolee staff member violated his parole. «o ¡bid., p. 214 31 Judith S. Benjamin, Marcia Κ. Freedman, and Edith F. Lynton, New Roles for Nonprofessionals in Corrections, pp. 38-39.

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The project came to an end in June 1965, when the North Carolina legislature declined to appropriate funds for its continuance. It had not had a long enough time to prove itself, one way or the other. During its brief operation, it was not an unqualified success, but neither was it entirely unsuccessful. Keve evaluates the project in these words: For the most part the use of the parolee staff was highly satisfactory, although the experience showed that the steadying influence and close supervision of a professional superintendent was clearly needed. As the group therapy process begins to take hold in such a situation the intensity of the feelings developed calls for not only skill but very dependable emotional stability on the part of staff. This was a severe test for the parolee therapists and the frustrations developed in them by the impact of the intensifying experience tended to emerge as some potentially acting-out behavior, both within the camp and in the community. 82

This much seems indicated from the experiment: Under optimum conditions, offender can help offender. And the helper may himself be helped by the performance of his functions. One of the parolees who served as staff in the North Carolina experiment became a careerist in correctional work. The time may come when former inmates, probationers, and parolees will effectively serve as institutional, probation, and parole staff, making contributions that are distinct from and complementary to those made by conventional correctional personnel. A MATTER OF VALUES If the offender and former offender prove useful in helping capacities, it is in large measure because they are of the same subculture, and hold most of the same basic values, as those with whom they interact. We are just beginning—barely beginning—to accept that one reason why probationers and parolees are so often resistant to the efforts of correctional workers to "help" them is that they do not want to be helped that way, in those directions, on those terms. Social workers and psychotherapists are preponderantly of the middle class. It seems "natural" to them that everyone should hold middle-class values, and their work with offenders is heavily tinctured with this conviction. But offenders—at least those who come to the attention of the authorities—are largely from the working classes. They are captives of middle-class culture, but in many respects espouse disparate values. We are beginning to understand 82

Paul W. Keve, Imaginative Programming in Probation and Parole, p. 215.

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that if we want to reach and communicate with working-class offenders we must meet them where they stand, on their " t u r f and terms, at least initially. We will not readily impose middle-class values upon them, and perhaps we should not try very strenuously to do so, being content if they do not transgress against middle-class laws, drafted by middle-class legislators, presumably for the welfare of all the people. Consider: To the middle-class person, the police, courts, and prisons tend to represent security for "good" people, a security to be expected and indeed demanded. To the working-class probationer and parolee they tend to represent insecurity, something to be feared, avoided, even hated. Education is the road to "success" and the better things in life for the middle-class man and his family. To the working-class parent it all too often is something that must be endured until the child may legally go to work. Crime and delinquency are evil and to be eschewed, according to the middle class. The fatalistic working-class person believes much of it is inevitable, and that such behavior should be ignored or winked at at times. Home is a pleasant place for socialization to the member of the middle class. The street is the socialization point of that working-class boy who needs temporary escape from a forbidding or uncomfortable home situation. Politeness and "good manners" are desirable items of value in the cultural system of the middle-class individual. In the working-classes they are often viewed as affectations to be derided, whereas "toughness," "masculinity," keeping one's "cool," are desired cultural items. How are we going to communicate with the offender from a workingclass environment if we talk, preach, and demonstrate only middle-class virtues? Because we are handicapped when we do attempt to do so, the realization has slowly spread that we had better begin to recruit a proportion of probation and parole officers from among people, otherwise qualified, who can identify with the working classes because they were reared among them. COMPUTERIZED CORRECTIONS We live in a computer culture. Computers now tell us, in a matter of seconds or minutes, who owes us money, what personal factors make for

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an efficient executive, and what man would be the ideal husband for what woman. Computers solve fantastically complex problems in chemistry, physics, and engineering. They are going to be brought into play to solve hitherto unsolved problems in the correctional field. To be sure, nothing will take the place of a human being in certain probation and parole operations, but many of the things we do not know about crime causation, delinquency prevention, recidivism, and the like, are going to become known through the agency of the monster that man created, the computer. Programs are going to be developed whereby all of the data, all of our knowledge about human behavior, nondeviant and deviant, will be fed into machines that will then be set to whirring to tell us what we need to know in order to live peaceful, law-abiding lives. Does this sound fantastic? It is already under way. Several states and the Federal Government have been at least tinkering with the idea of using computers to discover "causes" of delinquency and crime, to predict which individuals will recidivate and which will not, and to accomplish many other prevention and correctional tasks. The Youth Studies Center at the University of Southern California is developing a "simulation system" to be used as a prognostic tool in probation decisions. It is called SIMBAD (Simulation as a Basis for Social Agents' Decisions). An abstract of the project reads: The basic objective . . . is to introduce new knowledge and new technology into the practice of probation. Participating departments will have remote, real-time access to a large scale computer facility (SDC) which will provide probability estimates of success for disposition and treatment decisions at any point in the process. This will be accomplished through the development of mathematical models of the probation process, based on a large body of data from the past research. Research findings will, in effect, be immediately available at the moment they are needed—when decisions are made. A major objective is to create not merely initial change, but a true process of change continually effected by the automatic updating, incrementing and evaluating features of the system.33

In a mechanically less sophisticated era, Benjamin Disraeli once remarked: "The mystery of mysteries is to view machines making machines." We may see the day when machines make machines that make lawful behavior. 33 Alexander W. McEachern and Edward M. Taylor, Simbad, a Proposal for Probation (Los Angeles, Youth Studies Center, University of Southern California, April 1967), unpaginated page following flyleaf. Paper.

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ANNULMENT OF A CONVICTION As we become more humanitarian (if more mechanized at the same time) we seek an answer to a very important question: How long does a convict remain a criminal? Under most of our present criminal laws the answer is: Forever. The period of incarceration or of probation may be long over, the parole supervision term have expired twenty years ago, but the fact that a man was once convicted of crime is never expunged from the records except in rare instances. Consequently, he may be an ex-prisoner, a former probationer or parolee, but the law treats him as a criminal, here and now, as if he had just been convicted. It does not allow him to "atone" for his sins. It does not forgive him to the extent of expunging the record of his conviction. Barring those few states providing for annulment of convictions, certificate of rehabilitation, and other forms of executive clemency, (which only a fraction of former offenders ever receive) the person, once convicted of crime, remains disprivileged in certain respects, loses certain civil rights permanently, has employment and professions barred to him, has difficulty in obtaining a driver's license, may not hold public office. When it is remembered that millions of persons in the United States have criminal records, the enormity of the situation is comprehended. To remedy it, the National Council on Crime and Delinquency has drafted a Model Act for the annulment of a conviction of crime which it hopes every jurisdiction will adopt. It provides that (a) power to annul the conviction is given to the judge of the court in which the offender was sentenced; and (b) annulment of a conviction is not automatic, but at the discretion of the court. It is not a right to which every former offender shall be entitled. The Act reads in part: The court in which a conviction of crime has been had may, at the time of discharge of a convicted person from its control, or upon his discharge from imprisonment or parole, or at any time thereafter, enter an order annulling, canceling, and rescinding the record of conviction and disposition, when in the opinion of the court the order would assist in rehabilitation and be consistent with the public welfare. 3 4

Upon the entry of such an order, the individual concerned would have all of the civil rights he lost or had suspended restored to him, and he 34 National Council on Crime and Delinquency, Annulment of a Conviction of Crime, A Model Act (New York: National Council on Crime and Delinquency, 1962), p. 6. Paper.

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would be treated in all respects as not having been convicted, except that upon conviction of any subsequent crime the prior conviction could be considered by the court in determining the sentence to be imposed. The person whose conviction was annulled could say in testifying, or in filling out an application, that he had not been convicted. A FINAL WORD The author has been critical of probation and parole where candor required. We are far from having a truly professionalized field. We have devised no treatment that is certain to change law violators into lawabiding individuals. But he who demands that corrections move forward need only look back to see how far it has already come in the past few decades.

Index Abolitionism, 12, 13 Abrahams, Joseph, quoted, 183 Absconding, 264; from probation, 48, 52-53, 55; from prison, 66, 157, 316; f r o m parole, 94, 242 Acceptance, attitudes of, 169, 176, 234 Ackerman, Nathan, 188 Acting-out, 272-75, 323 Adams, Stuart, quoted, 190 Addicts, see Narcotics addicts Administration: of probation and parole, 33-40, 45, 48-50, 84-85, 267, 278-99, 305-6; of Australian penal colonies, 58-71; of indenture, 72-73; due process guarantees and, 305-6; offender employment in, 320-23; see also Agencies Age: recidivism and, 152-53, 158, 267 Agencies: administration of, 36-40, 49-50, 91-92; intake of, 106-7; specialization in, 161, 172-74, 279; referral to, 221-23; annual reports of, 262-63; internships in, 283, 284, 285; merit system recruitment in, 287-88; public relations of, 296-98; see also specific agencies Aggression: use of in group therapy, 212, 214 Alabama: revocation in, post-supervision study, 266 Alcohol: use of intoxicants while under supervision, 238, 249; problem drinkers, 309-11; see also Drunkenness, Intoxicants Alcoholics, 24; treatment of, 38, 182, 184, 199, 208, 210, 212, 276, 30912; probation of, 40

Alcoholics Anonymous, 182, 311, 318; halfway houses, 210, 212 Alinsky, Saul, quoted, 192 Ambivalence, 175 American Civil Liberties Union, 307 American colonies: British felons in, 56-58; beginnings of parole in, 72-73 American Friends Service Committee, 208 American Law Institute, 84 American Prison Association, Manual of Correctional Standards, 14 Anderson, Charles, case of, 65-67 Annulment of conviction, 326-27 Anthropometry, 9-10 Appeal of sentence, 31-32; revocation and, 255, 256-57; in probation and parole, 300-6; juveniles and, 306-8 Aptekar, Herbert H., quoted, 165 Arizona, 307-8; Southern Arizona Mental Health Center, 229-30, 231; Gila County juvenile court, 307 Arms, see Weapons Arrest of probationers and parolees, 251, 290 Arrival report, 94, 169, 242 Arson, 11; probation and, 45, 46 {table) Assault, 99; annual rate, 1; sample preparole report, 134-44 Atascadero State Hospital, California, 182-83 Atavism, 8, 9, 10, 11 Augustus, John, 21, 22, 23-27; Report on the Labors of . . . , quoted, 2427; summary of work, 26-27 Australia: penal colonies in, 58-71

330 Authority: for granting probation, 44; setting probation conditions, 46; revoking probation, 47-48, 302; discharge from probation, 48; granting parole, 77-78, 86-88; attitudes toward, 82, 98, 203-4, 235, 237-38, 270-71, 273-74, 322; supervising parolees, 91-92; revoking parole, 92, 301, 303, 304; discharge from parole, 92-93; casework use of, 104, 170-72, 224, 236-37, 246-47, 28992; parental, 196, 212-13 Automobiles: theft of, 1, 82, 185; drunken driving, 126-34, 248, 25455, 310; licenses, 237, 248, 326; installment buying by parolee, 246; ownership and operation rules as conditions of probation and parole, 248; operation rules for probationer, 256-57 Autonomy, probation administration and, 38-39 Bacon, Francis, quoted, 260 Bail, 19-20; Augustus and, 23, 24-27 Barnes, Harry Elmer, quoted, 290-91 Barron, A. J., cited, 266-68 Bassin, Alexander, quoted, 212 Beam, Kenneth S., cited, 195 Beard, Belle Boone, Juvenile Probation, 261 Beccaria, Cesare Bonesana, Marquis of, philosophy of criminology, 4-8 Behavior: mutiny, 59, 60; ticket of leave and, 61, 67-69; individualization and, 64-67; parole and, 74, 7879, 92, 115-18, 156-57; rules of indenture, 73; in group work, 190, 203 Behavioral Research Project, Arizona, 229-30, 231 Behaviorism, 229, 239 Bell, Marjorie, cited, 261 Benefit of clergy, 16-18 Benjamin, Judith G., quoted, 320 Berra v. United States, 256n Big Brothers of America, 270 Birmingham Borough Prison, England, 71 Black, Justice Hugo, 302 Bligh, Capt. William, 60 Bond, 18, 27 Boston, Massachusetts: first recognizance in, 19; first social work in hospitals, 21; probation law and, 27; Citizenship Training Group, Incor-

INDEX porated, 187-88; Manpower and Training Act in, 207; South End Center for Alcoholics and Unattached Persons, 311 Boston Juvenile Court, 261 Boston Rambler (newspaper), 25 Botany Bay, New South Wales, 59-61 Branding, 17 Brockway, Zebuion R., 74 Bruce, Andrew Α., cited, 147 Budgeting, 223, 246-47, 302 Burgess, Ernest W., 195; cited, 147 Burglary, 7, 158; annual rate, 1; case of arrest on suspicion of, 33-35; probation and, 45, 46 (table), 99; probation period for, 47; transportation for burglars, 65; sample presentence report on, 121-26 Caldwell, Morris Gilmore, 266, 267 Caldwell, Robert G., quoted, 153 California, 30In; Annual Sentencing Institute for Superior Court Judges, 35; parole in, 89-90; prisoner evaluation, 118; prediction table use in, 147, 149, 180, 269; parole violation rates, 154; ethnic group crime rates in, 154-55; group work in, 182-83, 188-91, 210, 319-20; delinquency prevention projects, 199; probation regulations, 239-40; juvenile courts, 306; narcotics addict aid in, 312-13, 314 California Adult Authority, 84, 89 California Community Treatment Project, 204-7, 269, 270-76 California Department of Correction, 209, 268, 269, 270 California Institution for Men, Chino, 319-20, 321 California Parole and Community Services Division, 209 California Penal Code, 89, 312 California Special Intensive Parole Unit, 268-70 California State Hospital, Atascadero, 182-83 California State Judicial Council, 35 California Welfare and Institutions Code, 312 California Youth and Adult Corrections Agency, 313 California Youth Authority, 84; group work by, 190, 204-7 Capital offenses, probation restriction for, 46 (table)

INDEX Carlile, Richard, 21 Case conference committees, 194-95 Caseloads, 38, 100, 268, 288; parole hearing, 120; classification of, 17880; intensive, 205, 206, 268-90; reduced, 267; specialized, 269-76, 313, 314; unit formulas for, 289 Casework, 159-80, 265; defined, lOln, 161-62; group work and, 162, 18182; method in corrections, 164-80; diagnostic approach in, 166, 175; eclectic concepts in, 166-80; prerelease guidance centers in, 209; clientworker personality matching in, 26976, 318-19; with narcotics offenders, 313 Central parole board, 86-88 Chapel Hill (North Carolina) Youth Development and Research Unit (Chydaru), 320-23 Chaplains, 116, 118 Charities, 13, 14 Chase, Jerusha, 19 Chattanooga, Tennessee, Hamilton County juvenile court, 280 Chekhov, Anton, quoted, 184 Chicago, Illinois: juvenile court, 29; Manpower and Training Act in, 207; prerelease guidance center, 209 Chicago Area Project, 195-98 Child guidance clinics, 223 Children, 12, 25-26, 27, 192; delinquent, neglected, and dependent, 4243, 46, 306; indentured, 73; emotional disturbance prediction tables, 149; of immigrants, 196; foster home placement of, 222; operant learning and, 229-32; experimenter-subject psychotherapy with, 233-35; discipline and, 237; Juvenile Probation (Beard), 261; civil rights of, 306-9; see also Juvenile delinquents; Youthful offenders Chinese, parole violation rate of, 155 Chino, California, Institution for Men, 319-20, 321 Christian doctrine: of sin, 3, 4; of regeneration, 14 Christiansen v. Zerbst (Kansas), 257 Chute, Charles Lionel, cited, 261 Chydaru Project (Chapel Hill, North Carolina), 320-23 Cities: probation administration and, 36, 37, 50; parole administration and, 84; see also Community, The

331 Citizenship Training Group, Incorporated, of Boston, 187-88 Civil death, 294 Civil rights: of juvenile delinquents, 111-13, 294, 306-9; probation and, 245, 300-6; right to legal counsel, 255-56, 258, 301, 304-6, 307-9; revocation of, 292-95, 303-4, 326-37; citizenship status and, 293; felons, revocation of, 293-94, 326-27; and conviction records, 293-95; of juvenile offenders, 294; of misdemeanants, 294; in correction, 294-95, 3009; restoration of by pardon, 295; restoration of by courts, 295, 32627; of children, 306-9 Civil service, 88-89, 90, 287-88 Clark, Charles Dismas, 208 Clark, Robert E., cited, 157 Class, Norman, quoted, 279 Class attitudes, 323-24 Clemmer, Donald, quoted, 81, 82 Clergy, benefit of, 16-18 Client: defined, 216-17 Climate, 11, 58, 59 Codefendants, 109 Colorado: prediction table use in, 147 Common law, 16, 20, 30-32, 252-53 Commonwealth v. Chase (Massachusetts), 19 Commonwealth v. Meyer (Pennsylvania), 257/1 Community, The, 159; environment, 110, 113, 195-98, 221, 250; parole and, 114-15, 142, 151, 155, 157; social worker relation to, 171-72, 173-74, 179, 216, 236, 291, 292; resources, 193-200, 221-23; programs, 195-98, 201-15, 311, 315-16 Community Action programs, 191, 19598 Community-centered programs, 181, 197, 201-15, 222 Community Correctional Center, Oakland, California, 209 Community Treatment Project, California, 204-7, 269, 270-76 Community welfare organization, 1023, 160, 191-200; defined, 162-63; community-centered programs, 20115 Commutation of sentence, 73, 76, 7879, 86, 92-93 Complainants, 109-10, 142, 241 Computers, 324-25

332 Conditions of probation and parole, 236-58; payment of court costs and, 239; fines as, 239; jail as, 239-41; restitution and, 241; arrival report as, 242; reporting as, 242-44; whereabouts and, 244; school attendance as, 244; employment and, 244-45; dependents and, 245; indebtedness, unreasonable expenditures and, 24647; medical/psychiatric care as, 247; remaining within jurisdiction as, 24748; automobiles and, 248; licenses and, 248-49; use of intoxicants and, 249; use of narcotics and, 249; avoiding disreputable places and associates, 250; hours and, 250-51; contacts with police and, 251; marrying and, 251-52; meretricious relationships and, 252-53; church and Sunday School attendance as, 253-54; home and employment visitation and, 254; weapons and, 254; juveniles and, 254; see also Rules Confession, 6, 42, 109 Confidentiality, 297; presentence report, 110-13, 301-2, 306, 308 Connecticut: commutation law for workhouse inmates, 73 Contingency technique, 230 Conviction records, 45, 85, 157-58, 197; juvenile, 55; probation records and, 109; employment and, 194, 239, 245, 293, 294, 317-28; civil rights and, 293-95; annulment of, 326-27 Cooley, Charles Horton, quoted, 18485 Cooper v. United States, 44 Cooperation: of client and social worker, 167-68, 173-74, 176-78, 179, 226, 233-35, 246; famUy, 231-32, 251; reporting and, 242-44; in psychiatric treatment, 247 Coordinating councils, 194-95 Correction: personnel, 2, 103-4, 16976, 278-92, 296-99, 300, 318-23; concept of, 3, 12, 14-15, 26-27, 6364, 100, 104-5, 159-60, 180, 292, 304; probation and, 16-32, 47 (see also Probation); prison conditions and, 64-71, 74, 80-83; parole and, 75, 97-98, 101, 116-17 (see also Parole); risks, 106-7, 145-58, 17980; prediction scales and, 148, 150, 151, 324-25; casework, 164-235, 26566, 290-91, 300, 315-18; results,

INDEX 259-68 (see also Recividism); funds for, 276-77, 286; civil rights and, 294-95, 300-9; public relations in, 296-98; see also specific subjects, e.g., Treatment Correctional Council of Delaware, 209 Correctional Rehabilitation Study Act (1965), 287 Correctional thought, evolution of, 115 Counseling, 24, 61, 199, 265, 280; marriage, 161, 242, 252; group, 188, 189-91; interagency cooperation, 194; prerelease, 209; guidance techniques, 223-25; offender employment in, 321 County, The, 280-81; probation services, 29-30; as probation organization unit, 36, 37, 38, 50; parole administration by, 84 County jails, 84, 315 Courts, 103, 200, 257-58; eighteenth century, 4-5; probation and, 16, 17, 19, 20, 27, 28-32, 36, 37, 38, 44, 46, 47-50, 204, 238-39; ecclesiastical, 17; filing of cases, 20, 42; Augustus and, 23-25, 26; appearance procedures, 42-43; Norfolk Island, 64; parole and, 73-74, 76, 86, 88; payment of costs, 239; appointment of counsel by, 256, 305, 308; military court martial, 293; civil rights, restoration of by, 295, 326-27; see also Federal courts; Juvenile courts Crenshaw House, Los Angeles, 208 Crime, 6-7, 44; current statistics on, 1 ; serious, Federal Bureau of Investigation definition of, 1; predisposition toward, 8, 9-10; multiple-factor causation, 11, 12, 154-55; clergy and, 16-18; probation and, 26-27, 38, 4042, 108-9, 256, 296-97 (see also Probation); parole and, 85, 157-58, 296-97 (see also Parole); age and, 152-53; race and, 154-55; values and, 169-70, 324; interaction against, 19394; neighborhood factors in, 195-98, 250; restitution for, 241, 302; drunkenness as, 309-11; narcotics addiction as, 312-15 Crime and Punishment (Maconochie), 63 Crime: Its Causes and Remedies (Lombroso), quoted, 11 Criminal, legal definition of, 11 Criminology: Classical school of, 4-8,

INDEX 14, 63; Positive school of, 8-12, 14; reform movements in, 62-72, 74-76, 304, 326 Crofton, Walter, 72, 74, 75 Cross examination, right of, 301, 302, 304, 306, 308 Curfews, 209, 251 Custody: employment during, 2, 80-81, 315-16, 321; probation and, 16, 19, 20, 22, 23-24, 49, 54, 55, 100, 13334; judicial decisions on, 35, 42, 104, 106, 107-13; probation proportion to, 35-36; parole and, 56, 74, 75, 97, 101, 115-18; ticket of leave and, 61-62, 68-69, 72; psychological effects of, 80-83, 97-98, 100-1, 201; group work during, 182-83, 190-91, 202-7; halfway houses and, 208-15 Darwin, Charles, 12, 13, 21 Dayton, Ohio, 280-81 Daytop Lodge, New York, 211-12, 314 Death penalty, 80, 292; ecclesiastical courts, 17; indenture and, 56-57, 58, 59, 60-61, 66; access to evidence and, 301-2 Debt, 246, 302 Declaration of Principles (American Prison Association), 14 Dederich, Charles E., 212-15 Definite sentence, see Determinate sentence Delaware, 30In; Correctional Council of, 209 Delinquency, see Crime; Juvenile delinquency Dependents, 294; support of as condition of probation and parole, 245, 246; work release and, 315, 316 Deportation, 56-61, 64-71 Detached worker program, 187 Determinate sentence, 73, 79, 85-86 Detoxification centers, 310, 311 Detroit, Michigan: Manpower and Training Act in, 207; prerelease guidance center, 209; Juvenile Court, 280

Diagnostic approach in social casework, 166, 175 Disability compensation, 222 Disclosure, see Confidentiality Discharge, 100, 265; probation and, 48, 49, 52, 55, 261-62; mark system and, 67-69, 72, 75; California Com-

333 munity Treatment Project, 206; annulment upon, 326-27 Dismas House, St. Louis, 208 Disraeli, Benjamin, quoted, 325 District attorney, recommendation concerning parole, 114 District of Columbia, 147, 207, 209, 255 District of Columbia District Court, 307 District of Columbia Juvenile Court, 307, 309 Divorce, 294 Douglas, Justice William O., quoted, 112 Dressier, David, quoted, 221, 297-98 Drinking: use or overuse of intoxicants as condition of probation and parole, 247; problem drinkers, 309-11; see also Alcohol; Intoxicants Drug addicts, see Narcotics addicts Drunkenness, 239, 309-11; Augustus and, 23-24; and probation and parole conditions, 249 Dublin, Ireland, 72 Due process of law, 6, 7, 8, 111; adult guarantees, 300-6; juvenile guarantees, 306-9 Dwight, Theodore, 74 Economic and Youth Opportunities Program, 207 Eden, William, quoted, 58-59 Education, 22, 317-18; in reformatories, 75; of social worker, 103-4, 161, 166, 174, 218, 224, 225, 231, 265, 268, 269, 271, 275, 278-85, 286, 288, 320; delinquency records and, 124, 127, 139-40; delinquency prediction tables and, 148-49, 154, 155; group work, 184; interagency action and, 193, 194, 195; adult, 197; rural, 198; dropouts, 199; achievement testing, 222; reward system in, 23032; regular school attendance as condition of probation and parole, 244, 254; social work undergraduate curricula, 283-85; narcotics addiction and, 313; study furloughs, 315, 316 Eligibility: for probation, 27, 28, 2930, 35-36, 40-42, 44-46, 104, 106-13; for parole, 76, 77-80, 85-86, 91, 9394, 104, 106-7, 113-20; prediction of success and, 146-58; for vocational training, 207

334 Elmira Reformatory, New York, 15, 74-75 Embezzlement, 238; probation and, 46 (table) Emotions, 8, 14, 113, 202, 217; predelinquency and, 54, 149, 233; in status passage, 83; casework aid, 165, 169-70, 175, 176-77, 223-24, 271, 274-75; discipline and, 237, 322 Empey, LaMar T., cited, 203-4 Employment, 154, 194, 294; ticket of leave, 72; training for, 80-81, 199, 207, 222, 317-18, 324; parole and, 83, 94, 114, 115, 143-44, 149, 151, 155-56, 209, 218, 219-20, 326-27; rural, 198; juvenile delinquent, 2023, 204, 219-20; of alcoholics, 210, 312; of narcotics addicts, 211; jobfinding resources, 220, 221; referral, 221; unemployment benefits, 222; experimenter-subject, 233-35; as probation-parole requirement, 244-45; automobile and, 248, 257; officer visits to check, 254; social worker study and, 283; interstate compacts and, 295-96; work furloughs, 31516, 321; of offenders as staff, 318-23 Encyclopedia of Social Work, quoted, 278 England, 10, 12, 13; Poor Law, 13; probation in, 16-18, 20, 21-23, 30; indenture and, 56-62; prison colonies, 58-71; workhouses in, 65, 73 England, Ralph, 265-66, 267 English Convict, The ( G o r i n g ) , 10 Enlightenment, The, 3-4 Environment, 8, 110; Lombroso on, 10, 11, 12; Augustus on, 25; delinquency and, 54, 110, 195-98, 226-27, 250; institutional, 80-83, 101, 156-57; recidivism and, 154-55, 165, 218; manipulation of, 164-65, 166, 196-97, 218-21; drug addiction and, 211-12; case study on effect of, 218-20 Erie County Probation Department, New York, 261-62 Escape, see Absconding Essay on Crime and Punishment, An (Beccaria), 5-7 Esselstyn, T. C., quoted, 150, 299 Essex County, New Jersey, 264 Evidence, 6, 8, 293; ecclesiastical courts, 17; circumstantial, 33; probation reports and, 109, 110-13, 301-

INDEX 2, 306; omissions of in trial, 109, 301-2; in parole hearings, 304, 306 Evjen, Victor H., quoted, 146-47 Evolution of correctional thought, 1-15 Executive clemency, see Pardon Experimenter-subject psychotherapy, 233-35 Extradition, 295-96 Family, 50, 100; parole and, 83, 96, 110, 114, 115, 142-43, 151, 155, 158, 209, 219-20; delinquent's relations with, 99, 110, 112, 113, 123, 124, 125, 138-42, 196-97, 219, 231-32, 233, 270-71, 324; group work with, 188; Synanon model, 213-15; support of dependents, 245, 246; dependents in, 252, 294; interstate compacts and, 295-96 Family service agencies, 102, 223; group techniques and, 161, 188; casework and, 163-64, 172, 237; interagency action, 193 Federal Bureau of Investigation, 1, 160, 266 Federal Bureau of Prisons, 318; prerelease guidance centers, 209 Federal Court of Appeals, Fifth Circuit, 44 Federal courts: probation and, 29, 30, 31-32, 36, 111; parole and, 76, 78, 84 Federal Offender Rehabilitation Program, 318 Federal prisons, 84, 86 Federal Probation Officers Association, quoted, 104, 105 Feeble-mindedness, 154, 184, 251, 252 Felons, 40, 44, 85, 267; probation and, 45, 47, 48, 49, 261-62; juvenile convictions, 55; deportation of, 56-61, 72-73; percent paroled, 77; sample presentence reports, 126-44; correctional worker recruitment and, 286, 289; civil rights revocation and, 29394, 326-27; narcotics addicts, 313; work release programs, 315-16; see also Youthful offenders Ferri, Enrico, 10 Filing of cases, 20, 43 Financial assistance, see Relief Fines, 23, 69, 241; payment as condition of probation and parole, 239 Fish, Albert Howard, case of, 40-42

INDEX

335

Fishing license, 248 500 Criminal Careers ( Glueck and Glueck), quoted, 148, 152, 153, 260 Five Hundred Delinquent Women (Glueck and Glueck), quoted, 260 Flemiing v. Tate, 255n Florida: right to counsel in, 255 Follow-up, 178, 180, 261; statistics, 262-63, 265-67 Food, 65, 66, 72, 207, 247; mark system and, 68, 69; special diets, 222; study furloughs and, 316 Foreign born, 192, 195-96, 293 Forgery, 158 Forsyth case on indefinite suspension, 31-32 Fort Grant State Industrial School, Arizona, 307 Foster-home placement, 54, 222 France, 5, 13 Franchise, 293-94 Franklin, Benjamin, 73 Franklin, Sir John, 62, 63 Franklin v. State ( I d a h o ) , 240 Freedman, Marcia Κ., quoted, 321 Free will doctrine, 3-4, 8, 12, 63 Freud, Sigmund, 166, 174, 175, 226, 227 Friendly House, Los Angeles, 210 Functional approach in social work, 166 Funds, 298; for probation, 29, 30, 38, 40, 41-42, 50, 101; for parole administration, 87, 101; for group work, 183, 191, 204, 323; for crime control, 194; community resources, 197, 199, 207; for halfway houses, 208-9, 210, 212, 312; statistical reports and, 263; research and, 27677, 287; for professional training, 283; for salaries of probation and parole officers, 288-89; work and study furloughs, 316; for vocational training, 317-18 Furloughs, work and study, 315-16

Georgia Industrial Institute, 317 Gestalt therapy, 181 Gila County, Arizona, 307 Gipps, Sir George, 64 Glaser, Daniel: cited, 146, 152-53; quoted, 154-55 Glasser, William, 226-29 Glueck, Eleanor T., cited, 149 Glueck, Sheldon and Eleanor, cited, 148, 152, 153, 155, 260 "Good time," 73, 76, 78-79, 86, 92-93 Goring, Charles, The English Convict, cited, 10 Gould, Raymond F., quoted, 276-77 Government, 6, 13-14, 27-30, 75, 292; church powers and, 17-18, 253-54; federal, 29, 30, 31-32, 36, 76, 78, 199-200, 207, 209, 239, 277, 287, 315, 316, 317, 318, 325; probation units, 36-40; British transportation system f o r felons, 56-61, 63, 64; pardon and, 79-80, 85; parole administration and, 83-84, 88-91; halfway house sponsorship, 207, 209, 210; see also specific agencies; States, The Gracián, Baltazar, quoted, 180 Gradation of servitude, 68-69, 72 Grant, J. Douglas, quoted, 146 Gregory, T. W., 31 Group therapy, 181, 182-87, 187-91, 210-15, 312, 319-23; requisites of effective program, 184 Group work: techniques, 160-61, 18191, 202-7; defined, 162; group therapy as, 182-83; drug addicts and, 211, 212-15; prerelease guidance centers, 209; offender employment in, 319-23 Guards, 64, 118 Guidance centers, prerelease, 209, 316 Guidance techniques, 223-25; see also Counseling Guided group interaction, see Group therapy

Gambling, 157 Garafalo, Raffaele, 10 Garibaldi, Giuseppe, 13 Gault, Gerald, case on due process, 11 In, 307-8, 309 Georgia, 256-57 Georgia Division of Vocational Rehabilitation, 317

Hakeem, Michael, cited, Î45 Halfway houses, 207-15, 312, 313, 314 Hamilton County, Tennessee, Juvenile Court, 280 Handicapped, 317 Harno, Alfred J., cited, 147 Harrington, G. L., 226 Health services, referral to, 222

336 Heat and crime, 11 Helping process, 216-35, 318-23 Hemmingway, Lt. Henry C., 28 Heredity, 8, 9-10 Highfields Project, New Jersey, 185, 202-3 Hill, Matthew Davenport, 21-23, 71; Suggestions for the Repression of Crime, quoted, 22-23 Hill, Octavia, 24 Holtzoff, Alexander, quoted, 251-52, 253-54 Home-finding, 219-20, 221; halfway houses, 207-15 Homosexuality, 167-68 Hoover, J. Edgar, quoted, 160 Hopewell, New Jersey, 185, 202-3 Hospitals, 21, 314; mental, 208 Howe, Samuel G., 56 Human ecology, 195-98 Humanitarianism, 12-15, 71, 160 Hunting license, 248-49 Huxley, Thomas Henry, 12 Hyser v. Reed (U.S.), 256 Idaho: probation period, 47 Idaho Supreme Court, 240 Illinois, 30In; parole in, 84, 89, 147-49, 156; prediction table use in, 147; Study of Indeterminate Sentence and Parole in (Bruce et al.), 147 Illinois Institute for Juvenile Research, 195-98 Illinois State Penitentiary, 157 Illinois Youth Authority, 84 Immigrants, 192, 195-96 Incest, 85 Incorrigibles, classification of, 70 Indenture, 56-61, 72-73 Indeterminate sentence, 73-74, 75-76, 77-78, 85-86, 147 Individuality: listening and, 165-66; operant learning and, 229-30; paroleprobation regulations and, 237, 241, 244-45, 246, 248, 249, 250-51, 252, 253, 254, 292; client-worker matching, 269-76 Individualization, 100, 117-18, 160, 268; juvenile offenders and, 38, 107, 108, 205; probation term restrictions and, 47; use of by Maconochie, 64-65, 67, 69; reformatories and, 75; parole restrictions and, 85-86 In Re Gault, 11 In, 307-8, 309 Insanity, 9, 10, 307; hospital release,

INDEX 208; marriage and, 251, 252; civil commitment and, 312 Installment buying by parolee, 246 Institute for the Study of Crime and Delinquency, 191 Institutions: commitment rates, 39; experience in, 80-83, 97-98, 100-1, 15657, 208; parole boards of, 86-87; reports, 114, 115-18; detached worker programs, 187; halfway houses, 20815; placement, 222; see also names and specific types, e.g., Prisons Insurance, 222 Intake, 106-7 Intelligence: parole and, 155, 180, 276; treatment and, 179, 184, 202, 217 Interstate Compact for the Supervision of Parolees and Probationers, 248, 295-96 Interviewing: presentence reports, 11013, 120-34, 301-2, 306, 308; preparole, 114, 119-20, 134-44, 14658; techniques, 168, 223-24; routine, 242-44; post-discharge, 261, 264; see also Investigation Intoxicants: abstaining from use or overuse as condition of probation and parole, 249; problem drinkers, 309-11; driving and, 310; arrests for, 310 Investigation, 105, 291-92; presentence, 33-35, 40, 41-44, 49, 50, 108-13, 120-34, 146, 300-1, 308; preparole, 94, 108, 113-20, 134-44, 146-58; sample reports, 120-44 Ireland, 13, 22; parole in, 72, 74, 75 Isolation, prison use of, 66, 72 Italy, 5, 8, 9, 13 Jail, as condition of probation, 239-41 Jamestown, Virginia, 47 Japanese-Americans, 154-55 Job Corps, 207 Johnson, Lyndon B., 199 Joint Commission on Correctional Manpower and Training, 286-87 Jones v. State (Georgia), 256n Judge Baker Foundation, 261 Judges: penalties and, 4-5, 6, 7, 31, 33-36, 43, 52, 301-2; ecclesiastical, 17; recognizance and, 18-19, 22-23, 30; bail and, 19-20; suspension power of, 30-32, 44-45, 46, 47-48, 54, 55; probation work of, 38; parole authority and, 86n, 114; probation

INDEX selection criteria of, 104, 106, 10713, 114, 150, 257; Guides for Juvenile Court Judges, 107-8; juvenile courts, 113, 306, 308-9; rule stipulations, 238-40, 256, 257, 403; revocation hearings, 255; annulment authority, 326 Judicial review, 309; probation revocation and, 48, 255, 256-58, 300-2, 306; parole and, 302-4 Jury trial, 48, 64, 293; demand for, 33, 308, 309 Juvenile courts, 21, 28-29, 98, 199, 200, 261, 280; probation administration, 36, 37 (table), 38, 42-43, 44, 45, 46, 49, 50, 113; supervision process of, 54-55, 280-81; Guides for Juvenile Court Judges, 107-8; hearing vs. trial, 113, 306, 308; sample presentence report, 120-26; group work and, 188; interagency cooperation and, 194; probation criteria and, 204; standards for probation officers, 280-81; due process and, 306-9 Juvenile delinquency: family and, 99, 110, 112, 113, 123, 124, 125, 13842, 152-53, 231-32; prediction tables, 149; interagency cooperation and, 194-95; community welfare organizations and, 195-200; worker recruitment, 286 Juvenile delinquents: recognizance and, 18, 22, 23; probation and, 24, 27, 28-29, 42-43, 49, 50, 54-55, 98-99, 107-8, 109, 110; indenture and, 73; parole and, 74, 77, 78, 85, 87-88, 93, 95-96, 114, 152, 218-20; types of parole authorities for, 88 (table), interview with, 98-99; disclosure protection, 110, 111-13; civil rights and, 111-13, 294, 306-9; casework with, 170; group work, 185-87, 188, 18991, 202-7; employment, 202-3, 204, 219-20; community-centered programs, 202-7; typology of, 205, 27076; operant learning and, 229, 23132; experimenter-subject psychotherapy for, 233-35; school attendance requirement, 244, 254; drinking and, 249; in disreputable neighborhoods and hangouts, 250; curfews for, 251; marriage, 251-52; regulations for probation and parole, 254; One Thousand Juvenile Delinquents

337 ( Glueck and Glueck), 261; work and study furloughs, 316; vocational training, 317; class values and, 324 Juvenile training schools, 1-2, 82, 8586, 87-88, 96 Kansas, 257n, 302 Kansas City, Missouri: prerelease guidance center, 209 Kelleher, Helen M., cited, 244 Kent v. United States, 307 Keve, Paul, quoted, 103, 191, 206, 319, 321, 323 Kidnapping, 41, 158; probation and, 46 (table); parole and, 85 Killits, John M., 31-32 Kobrin, Solomon, quoted, 196 Labor: transportation practices and, 56-61, 72-73; mark system, 67-69; workhouse, 65, 73; prison detail, 66, 67-69, 72, 80-81, 117; child, 192 Labor unions, 13, 245, 256, 316 Landesco, John, cited, 147 Law, 3, 6-7, 192, 199; probation and, 16, 20, 27-32, 45-47, 48-49, 110-11, 239-40, 302; on suspension of sentence, 31, 32; on investigation, 4344, 301-2; felon transportation system, 57-58; on incorrigibility, 70; indenture, 73; on indeterminate sentence, 74, 76; parole, 76, 77, 84, 8586, 89-90, 92-93, 94, 96, 303-4, 3056; on eligibility for parole, 85; obligation for enforcement, 101-4, 105, 107, 169-72, 173-74, 177, 179-80, 236-58, 289-92; on sexual psychopath, 182; on vocational training, 207; social insurance, 222; jurisdiction, 247-48, 257; marriage, 251-52, 253; on revocation of probation or parole, 255-58, 302, 305, 306; on civil rights revocation, 292-95, 32627; due process questions in, 300-9; on narcotics addicts, 312, 313; class values and, 323-24 Law enforcement function in probation and parole, 289-92 Lawyer, see Legal counsel Legal aid, 222 Legal counsel, 64; presentence reports and, 111, 112, 113, 301, 306; in revocation hearings, 255-56, 258, 301, 304-5; in juvenile courts, 306-7, 308, 309

338 Lester, Ervis, 291; quoted, 290 Leveret Street Jail, Boston, 25 Licenses, 237, 248-49, 254, 293-94, 326 Liquor, see Alcohol; Drinking; Drunkenness; Intoxicants Listening, 165-66 Literacy tests, 17 Lombroso, Cesare, 8-12; on multiple factor causation, 11 London, England, 62, 63 Long Beach, California, 189 Los Angeles, California, 314; Manpower and Training Act in, 207; Crenshaw House, 208; prerelease guidance center, 209; Friendly House, 210 Los Angeles County Probation Department, 189-91 Luane, Ferris F., 148 Lusk Prison, Ireland, 72 Lynton, Edith F., quoted, 320 McCorkle, Lloyd W., quoted, 183, 18586 McEachern, Alexander W., quoted, 325 McKenzie, R. D., 195 Maconochie, Alexander, 61-72, 74; publications of, 63-64 Mahoney v. State Board of Parole (New Jersey), 303 Maine: probation regulation, 239-40 Manchester (England) massacre, 21 Mandel, Nathan G., cited, 189 Manpower and Training Act, 207 Manslaughter, sample presentence report, 126-34 Mantegazza, Paolo, 9 Mark system, 67-69, 72, 75; Maconochie and, 64 Marriage, 153, 165, 264, 294; counseling, 161, 242, 252; legal aid, 222; permission for as condition of probation and parole, 251-52; common law, 252-53 Marshall, Justice Thurgood, 305 Maryland: work release program in, 315 Massachusetts, 207; filing of cases in, 20, 43; trials of children in, 25-26, 27; development of probation in, 27-28; Glueck study of 500 men in state reformatory, 148, 152, 153, 260 Massachusetts State Board of Charities, 14, 27, 74 Massachusetts Youth Authority, 84

INDEX Mass media, 297, 298 Maturity levels, 205-6, 225, 269; worker matching with, 270-76 Medical care as condition of probation and parole, 247 Medicine, 9, 21, 115, 138; behavior and, 117-18; interagency action and, 194; probation conditions and, 238, 247; pre-marriage health examinations, 251; funds for research, 276-77 Mempha v. Ray (United States), 256, 204-5 Mental health, 163, 198 Merit systems, 88-89, 90, 287-88 Methodology: Lombroso and, 9-12 Mexicans, 155 Michigan, 257n; parole in, 88, 90, 209; right to counsel in, 255; study furloughs in, 316 Middle class, social work and, 318, 323-24 Military service, 293 Milwaukee, Wisconsin: Manpower and Training Act in, 207 Minneapolis, Minnesota: Roncalli House, 208 Minnesota, 28, 208; prediction table use in, 147; St. Cloud Reformatory, 266-67 Minnesota Department of Corrections, 189 Minnesota Youth Authority, 84 Misdemeanants, 30, 44, 48; case study, 40-42; parole of, 76. 79; worker recruitment and, 286, 289; civil rights of, 294; alcoholics, 309-12; narcotics addicts, 313; work furloughs for, 315-16 Mississippi, 47 Missouri, 28, 207, 208, 209 Model Youth Correction Act, 84 Monachesi, Elio D., cited, 155 Montana: probation period in. 47 Montgomery County, Ohio, 280-81 Moral judgments, 169-70, 253-54, 32324 Motivation, 166-67, 202, 217; Beccaria on, 7-8; Lombroso on, 10, 11, 12; probation reports on, 109, 110; economic, 157-58; unconscious, 174-75, 227; knowledge of social worker, 223-24; reward systems, 229-35 Multiple impact therapy, 188 Murder and murderers, 41, 301-2; annual number, 1; probation and, 45,

INDEX 46 (table), 99; in prison colonies, 60, 66; parole and, 85, 116-17, 158 Murphy, Justice Frank, 302 Murphy, Joseph P., 264 Mutiny in prison colonies, 59, 60 Nahrendorff, Richard O., cited, 312-13 Narcotic Rehabilitation Act ( 1966), 313 Narcotics addicts, 38, 40, 45, 184, 199; recidivism and, 157, 158, 312, 315; halfway houses, 208, 210-15, 314; group work with, 211, 212-15; environmental influences, 211-12; Daytop Lodge, 211-12, 314; Synanon Foundation, 212-15, 314, 318; probation and parole rules on, 249; caseloads, 276, 314-15; civil commitment, 312-13; treatment of, 31215; California Civil Addiction Commitment Procedure, 313; Parkway Center, 313-14 Narcotics Anonymous, 314 National Association of Social Workers, 192, 194, 278 National Conference on Parole, 279 National Council of Juvenile Court Judges, 107-8 National Council on Crime and Delinquency, 29, 111, 194, 203«; on educational standards, 280, 281; educational qualifications for staff, 281 (table); on merit system, 287; on due process, 303; on annulment of conviction, 326 National Institute of Mental Health, 277 National Probation and Parole Association: Guides for Juvenile Court Judges, 107-8; Standard Probation and Parole Act, 240; Journal, 280 Naturalized citizens, 293 "Neck verse," 17 Necrophilia, 41 Negroes, 154 Neighborhood, see Community, The Neighborhood Youth Corps, 207 Neigher, Alan, quoted, 309 New directions in probation and parole, 300-27 New Jersey, 28, 264, 301n, 303; minimum probation period in, 47; group work in, 185, 202-3 New South Wales, 59-61, 64-71

339 Newspapers, 297, 298; presentence reports and, 111 New York City, 13, 14, 188; Manpower and Training Act in, 207; prerelease guidance center, 209; drug addicts treatment in, 210-12, 314-15 New York City Parole Commission, 147, 180 New York Prison Association, 74 New York state, 261, 276, 301; suspension of sentence statute, 31; commutation law, 73; reformatory movement in, 73-76; parole laws, 84; delinquency prevention projects, 199; juvenile courts, 306 New York State Court of Appeals, 31 New York State Division of Parole, 84, 180, 276, 314 New York State Legislature, 74 New York State Narcotic Treatment Bureau, 315 New York State Reformatory, Elmira, 15, 74-75 New York State Special Narcotic Project, 314-15 New York State Supreme Court, 211 Nonjudgmentalism in casework, 16970, 253-54, 323-24 Norfolk Island, New South Wales, 5961; Maconochie on, 64-71 North Carolina: work release program in, 315, 316; Chydaru Project, 32023 North Carolina University, Institute of Government, 320, 322 Nottingham (England) rioters, 21 Nursery care, 222 Oakland, California, 209 Obesity, 238 Obscenity, 41 Ocean Park, California, 212 O'Connell, Daniel, 22 Ohio, 280-81; test case on indefinite suspension, 31-32; prediction table use in, 147 Ohio Committee on Crime and Delinquency, 30 Ohio Youth Authority, 84 Ohlin, Lloyd E., cited, 148-49, 156 Oklahoma: vocational rehabilitation in, 317 O'Leary, Vincent, quoted, 154-55 One Thousand Juvenile Delinquents ( Glueck and Glueck), 261

340 Operant learning theory, 229-32, 238; contingency and, 230; shaping and, 230 Organ, James P., 72 Organization, unit of: probation, 3640; parole, 84-85 Orphanages, 222 Osborne Association, 203rt Overton, Alice, quoted, 177, 178 Palmer, Ted, quoted, 270, 271, 272, 273 Palo Alto, California, 188 Pardon, 78, 79-80, 85, 235; indefinite suspension and, 31; ticket of leave and, 61-62; civil rights restoration by, 295 Parens patriae principle, 113, 306, 308 Park, Robert E., 195-98 Parkway Center, California, 313-14 Parole, 15, 28; number of prisoners on, 1-2; violation, 47-48, 92, 94-95, 104, 105, 145-58, 242, 255-58, 301, 303, 322-23; first use of term, 56; origins, 56-76; behavior and, 74, 78-79, 92, 115-18, 156-57; availability, 76, 79; definition, 77-80; contemporary, 7796; eligibility for, 85-86; authority to grant, 86, 87, 88, 89; revocation, 92, 94-95. 96, 103, 104-5, 255-58; discharge from, 92-93; case studies, 93-96; and probation compared, 97105; rationale of, 100-1; two-fold function of, 104-5; selection in, 1067, 113-20; case studies on eligibility, 116-18; preparole report sample, 13444; recidivism predictability, research on, 145-58, 180, 270-76; violation rates, 154; casework, 159-80; supervision in, 159-215; group work, 181-91, 203; community-centered programs, 201-15; operant learning and, 231; rules in, 236-58, 302-3 (see also Conditions of probation and parole); conditions of, 239-55 (see also Conditions of probation and parole); results, 259-77; administration of, 278-99; law enforcement function, 289-92; due process rights in, 300-6, 309; new directions in, 300-27; judicial review, 302-4; contract, 303; of alcoholics, 311, 312; of narcotics addicts, 314-15; work release programs, 315-16 Parole boards, 77-78, 79, 103, 258,

INDEX 303; central, 86-88; constituencies of, 88-91; method of appointment, 89 (table); terms of office, 90 (table); salaries, 90, 91 (table); hearings, 91; supervision and, 92-96, 267; parolee selection and, 104, 106-7, 113-20, 145-58; preparole report sample, 134-44 Parolee, definition, 77-80 Parole workers, 92; salaries, 29, 72, 90-91, 280, 288-89; first officer, 72; Board selection of, 86-91; relationships, 94, 96, 151, 242-44, 269; goals, 101-4, 105; education of, 103-4, 161, 166, 174, 218, 224, 225, 231, 265, 268, 269, 271, 275, 278-85, 286, 288, 320; methods, 160-61, 198, 216-35; preparation of, 278-85; recruitment of, 285-88; offenders as, 318-23 Parsonage, William H., cited, 189 Passivity, 206, 271 Pavlov, Ivan P., 229 Peer groups: juvenile gangs, 98-99, 196; community treatment, 202-7 Penal reform, 62-72 Penitentiaries, 84, 86 Pennsylvania, 257n Pensions: police, 13-14; social insurance, 222 People ex. rei. Forsyth v. Court of Sessions (New York), 31-32 People ex rei. Schumaker and Brophy (New York), 256n People v. Baum (Michigan), 257η People v. Frank (California), 256/1 People v. Roveano (California), 301n People v. Sudduth (Illinois), 301n Perlman, Helen Harris: definition of casework, 10In, 161; quoted, 176 Personality, 168-69; "criminal" of Lombroso, 8-12; Augustus on, 25; assessment of, 34-35, 108-9, 110, 115-16, 119-20, 130-34, 150; misdemeanant, 40; juvenile delinquent, 54, 96, 98-100, 152-53, 224, 233-34, 270-76; institutional experience and, 80-83, 115; environment manipulation and, 164-65, 221; changing, 167, 169, 177-78, 179, 180, 183, 216, 21718, 234-35, 263-64; parole and probation demands upon, 173-74, 23839; caseworker, 175-76, 206-7, 26976, 318-19; group work and, 183, 184-85, 190, 205-6, 321; maturity levels, 205-6, 225, 269; emphasis on

INDEX strengths in, 220, 221, 223-24, 225, 228, 273; reality therapy and, 22729; merit system recruitment and, 287 Personnel: custodial, 2, 81, 82, 86-87, 115-16, 117, 118, 199; correctional, 2, 101-4, 199, 205, 207, 260, 264, 267, 298-99, 318-23; qualifications, 160-61, 164, 168-72, 278-85, 218-19, 323-24; group relationships, 162-63, 181-91, 206, 319-23, community action and, 191-200; coordinating councils, 195; client-as-staff, 197, 318-23; recruitment, 278, 280-83, 285-88, 289, 318; curricula for social workers, 283-85; merit system coverage, 288 (table)·, see also Parole workers; Probation workers Phillip, Capt. Arthur, 59-60 Physical traits as stigmata of criminality, 9-10 Pine Hall Project, Chino, California, 319-20, 322 Pinehills (Provo, Utah), 203-4 Pleasure-pain principle, 4, 8 Police, 98, 99, 199, 200, 235, 291, 296, 297; pensions, 13-14; probation work by, 23, 27-28; parole work by, 69, 71, 72; interagency action and, 194, 195, 221; juvenile arrest by, 308; alcoholics and, 311; offender aid staffs, 321 Poliomyelitis, 277 Poor Law, English, 13 Population density, 11, 37, 38, 89, 286 Port M acquarie, Australia, 66 Positivism, 8-12, 14 Poverty, 154, 158, 218; Augustus and, 24; workhouses and, 65; indenture and, 72-73; budgeting and, 223, 246; court costs and, 239; neighborhood, 250; legal counsel and, 256, 305, 308; drunkenness and, 310, 311 Prediction tables, 114, 120, 146-58, 180, 269; computers and, 325 Prehearing report, 42, 50, 113, 306; see also Sentencing, presentence investigations Preparation of probation and parole workers, 278-85 Prerelease guidance centers, 209 Prerelease shelters, 207-10 Presentence reports: confidentiality of, 110-13, 301-2, 306, 308; samples, 120-34

341 President's Commission on Law Enforcement and Administration of Justice, 199-200; Report, The Challenge of Crime in a Free Society, quoted, 1, 79, 286; Task Force on Corrections, quoted, 29, 36, 37, 3940, 82, 85, 86, 88-89, 91-92, 202, 240-41, 276, 288-89, 304; recommendations on probation standards, 48-50, 111-13, 240-41; recommendations on parole standards, 85, 86, 87, 91-92; Task Force on Courts, quoted, 112-13; on correctional recruitment, 285-86, 288η, 289η; Task Force on Drunkenness, quoted, 310; Task Force on Narcotics and Drug Abuse, quoted, 313-14 Prison Community, The (Clemmer), 81 Prisoner Rehabilitation Act (1965), 315 Prison islands, 62, 64-71 Prisonization and deprisonization, 8183, 156-57, 201 Prisons, 22; annual commitment rate, 1-2; reform movement, 14-15, 6271, 74, 75; probation sentencing and, 49, 239-40; probation revocation and, 52; in colonies, 59-61, 64-71; effectiveness of, 80-83, 116-17, 201, 240-41; federal, 84, 86; crowding, 87, 310; group work in, 183, 311; aid to narcotic addicts in, 314 Prison ships, 58 Probation; number of prisoners on, 1-2; origins of, 15, 16-32; definition, 16; history of, 21-32; first use of word, 24; juvenile, development of, 28-29; adult, development of, 29-30; contemporary, 33-55; applicability, 40-42, 43, 133-34; eligibility for, 4446; length of, 46-47; revocation, 4748, 49, 50, 52, 54, 55, 255-58, 301, 302, 304-6; standards of, 48-50; sample cases, 50-55; and parole compared, 97-105; rationale of, 100-1; two-fold function of, 104-5; selection in, 106-13, 120, 146, 150, 155, 204, 325; presentence report samples, 120-34; casework, 159-80, 289; supervision, 159-215; group work, 18191, 204; community-centered programs and, 201-15; prerelease shelters, 207-10; operant learning and, 231; rules in. 236-58 (see also Con-

INDEX

342 Probation ( C o n t i n u e d ) ditions of probation and parole); conditions of, 239-55 (see also Conditions of probation and parole); results, 259-77; administration of, 278-99; law enforcement function, 289-92; civil rights restoration and, 295, 326-27; due process rights in, 300-6; new directions in, 300-27; alcoholism and, 311, 312 Probation and parole: administration of, 33-40, 45, 48-50, 84-85, 267, 27879, 305-6; comparison, 97-105; twofold function of, 104-5, 159; selection, 106-44; Standard Act, 111; supervision in, 159-215; communitycentered programs, 201-15; rules in, 236-58 (see also Conditions of probation and parole); conditions of, 239-55 (see also Conditions of probation and parole); Interstate Compact for Supervision of Parolees and Probationers, 248, 295-96; Standard Probation and Parole Act (National Probation and Parole Association), 240; law of revocation, 255-58; results in, 259-77; merit system for positions, 287-88; law enforcement function in, 289-92; public opinion on, 296-98; new directions in, 30027 Probation workers, 16, 23, 24, 38; first, 28; court authority and, 27-28, 29, 30, 43, 54-55; salaries, 29, 48, 72, 90-91, 280, 288-89; qualifications, 49, 103-4, 278-85; methods of work, 51-55, 160-61, 216-35; goals, 101-4, 105; education of, 103-4, 161, 166, 174, 218, 224, 225, 231, 265, 268, 269, 271, 275, 278-85, 286, 288, 320; group work, 187, 191; rural, 198; relationships, 242-44 (see also Relationships); federal, 265; preparation of, 278-85; recruitment, 285-88; offenders as, 318-23 Problem drinkers, 309-12 Problem solving, 161-64, 165, 167, 17880; group work and, 182, 184, 202; helping process, 216-35, 318-23; results, 264 Processes: defined, 163-64 Professionalism, 103-4, 278-85, 286-87, 327 Promiscuity, juvenile, 54, 95, 96

Property: crimes against, 11, 157-58; prisoners and, 69; rights, 99, 293, 294 Prostitutes, 24, 38, 157 Provo ( U t a h ) Experiment in Delinquency Rehabilitation, 203-4 Pseudo-criminals, Lombroso on, 11 Psychiatric and social work agencies, 223 Psychiatry, 24, 192, 218, 223, 225-35; presentence reports and, 112; prehearing reports and, 113; parole and, 115, 116, 117, 138, 147; listening technique, 165-66; homosexuality and, 168; theory of the unconscious in, 174-75, 226, 227; group approaches in, 181, 182; prerelease guidance centers, 209; care as condition of probation and parole, 247 Psychological approach, 225-35; in casework, 165-66, 174-76, 207, 22425; rule enforcement and, 237-38; worker-client matching and, 269-76 Psychotherapy, experimenter-subject, 233-35 Public health services, 14, 192, 310, 311 Public housing authority, 193 Public office, right to, 293 Public relations, 296-98 Public welfare services, 29, 88, 216-17 Puerto Rico, 30, 36, 37; parole in, 85, 86, 147 Punishment, 270-71; treatment and rehabilitation versus, 2-3, 14-15, 22, 23-26, 63, 74, 75, 80-83, 159-60, 228, 276, 304, 310-15; equality of, 4-5, 6, 7, 8, 16-18, 35; as deterrent, 6-7, 14, 60-61, 63, 64, 82, 159, 238-39, 24041; suspension of, 16, 27, 30-32; prison colony, 59, 60, 66-67, 68; reward and, 229-35, 237-38; by revocation of civil rights, 292-95, 303-4 Quakers, 208 Questionnaires, 242, 296-97 Race, 154-55, 218 Rank, Otto, 166, 175, 226 Rape, 11, 40, 307; probation and, 45, 46 (table), 99; parole and, 85, 158 Rationalism, 4, 63 Rationale of probation and parole, 100-1

INDEX Reality therapy, 175, 226-29, 241 "Rebecca" rioters, 21 Recidivism, 52, 101, 159, 259-77, 292; rationalist view of, 4; Hill on, 22; Augustus on, 26-27; misdemeanant, 42; probation eligibility and, 45, 240; juvenile, 54, 152, 204, 250-51, 261, 267; on ticket of leave, 70; murder and, 85, 158; parole and, 94, 95, 96, 104, 105, 113, 114, 116-17, 137-38, 145-58, 218, 224, 260, 26870; prediction of, 145-58, 218, 269, 325; onset of illegal activity and, 152; leaving home and, 152-53; age and, 152, 158; age at release and, 153; marital status and, 153; sex and, 153; prior record and, 153-54, 158; race and, 154-55; education and, 155; intelligence and, 155; employment habits and, 155-56; institutional conduct and, 156-57; locality and, 157; type of offense and, 15758; socioeconomic status and, 158; casework and, 165, 169-70, 173-74, 175, 178, 179-80, 268-76, 314-15; reporting and, 243-44; views of public on, 296-97 Reckless, Walter C., quoted, 149, 27879 Recognizance, 18-19, 22-23, 30-32 Recreation, 65, 187-88, 194, 197, 198, 222; probation and parole requirement of, 254 Recruitment of probation and parole workers, 285-88 Referral, 221-23, 265 Reformatories, 74-76, 85, 294, 317; group work in, 183, 202-3 Rehabilitation: Correctional Rehabilitation Study Act of 1965, 287; certificate of, 295, 326; see also Correction; Treatment Rehabilitation centers for alcoholics, 310, 311, 313-14 Relationships, 151, 166, 224, 269-76; delinquent, 98-99, 231-35; casework, 161, 176-78, 223-24; group, 162, 181-91; community, 162-63, 193, 196-97; reporting and, 242-44; among correctional workers, 298-99; in use of offenders in social work, 318-19, 321-22, 323; class, 323-24 Release: on ticket of leave, 61-62, 6769, 71; mandatory, 79, 100; age at,

343 152-53; shelters, 208-10; work and study programs, 315-16; see also Discharge; Parole; Probation Relief, 172, 219-20, 237, 246; referral, 221 Religion, 3, 4; as vital factor in rehabilitation, 253-54 Reno, Nevada: Synanon Foundation, 212 Reporting, 242-44, 265 Reports: presentence, 33-35, 40, 41-44, 49, 50, 108-13, 120-34, 300-1, 306; prehearing, 42, 49, 110, 113, 306, 308; probationer, 47, 51, 242; probation worker, 51, 52, 241; preparole, 94, 108, 113-20, 134-44, 14658; arrival, 94, 169, 242; of whereabouts, 244, 247-48; on employment, 244-45; on arrest of probationer or parolee, 251; agency, 262-63 Reprieve, 18, 61 Research, 50; on selection, 145-68, 180; on treatment, 160, 189, 202-7, 24677; on correction results, 260-76; on manpower needs, 285-87 Rest homes, 222 Restitution, 302; as condition of probation and parole, 241 Results in probation and parole, 25977 Retribution for crime, 3, 6, 241 Revocation, 179-80, 254; of probation, 47-48, 49, 50, 52, 55, 202, 255-58, 301, 302, 304-6; of parole, 92, 94-95, 96, 103, 104-5, 255-58; right to counsel in proceedings of, 256, 3045; of civil rights, 292-95, 303-4, 32627 Reward systems, 67-69, 72, 75; operant learning, 229-32, 235, 238; experimenter-subject, 233-35 Rhode Island, 28 Robbery, 150-51; annual number, 1; children charged with, 25-26, 307; probation and, 45, 46 (table), 99; probation period, 47; recidivism, 158 Robinson v. California, 312 Robinson, Virginia, quoted, 176 Roncalli House (Minneapolis, Minnesota), 208 Rousseau, lean lacques, 6, 7 Rubin, Sol, quoted, 303-4 Rules, 262, 264, 267, 291-92; probation violations, 47-48, 49, 50, 51, 52

344 Rules ( C o n t i n u e d ) 53, 261, 302; parole violations, 4748, 92, 94-95, 104, 105, 145-58, 242, 255-58, 301, 303, 322-23; probation and parole, 236-58 (see also Conditions of probation and parole) Rumney, Jay, 264 Rural areas, 198, 322 Rush, Benjamin, 24 Sacramento, California, 206 Sadism, 41-42 St. Cloud (Minnesota) Reformatory, 266-67 St. Louis, Missouri: Manpower and Training Act in, 207; Dismas House, 208 Salaries: probation and parole workers, 29, 48, 72, 90-91, 280, 288-89; vocational trainee, 207; payment in experimenter-subject psychotherapy, 233-35; of individual on probation or parole, 245 Salk, Jonas Edward, 277 Salvation Army, 219, 220 Sanborn, Benjamin Franklin, 74 Sanders, Barkev S., 148 San Diego, California: Synanon Foundation, 212 San Francisco, California: Synanon Foundation, 212 Santa Monica California: Synanon Foundation, 212, 213 Satir, Virginia, 188 Savage, Capt. E. H., 28 Schools of social work, 278-85, 320 Schwitzgebel, Ralph R., 233-35 Selection: in probation and parole, 106-44; research on, 145-58 Self image, 272, 273; group work and, 184-85 Sentence: suspension of, 16, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23-24, 30-32, 44-45, 46, 4748, 52, 53, 86, 294; maximum, 45, 73-74, 78-79, 85, 86, 92, 93, 100; commutation of, 73, 76, 78-79, 86, 92-93; determinate, 73, 79, 85-86; indeterminate, 73-74, 75-76, 77-78, 85-86, 147 Sentencing, 4, 5, 6, 7; presentence investigations in, 33-35, 40, 41-44, 49, 50, 108-13; Annual Institute for Superior Court Judges of California, 35; mark system and, 67-69, 70, 72; indentured servants, 73; parole and,

INDEX 73-74, 75, 76, 77, 85-86, 92-93, 94, 303, 304; of narcotics addicts, 31213 Settlement bouses, 161, 181, 191, 194, 222 Sex: annual crime rate, 1; deviations, 41; in prisons, 80, 81, 83; attitude toward, 167-68; therapeutic community for sex offenders, 182-83, 184 Shaping technique, 230 Shaw, Clifford, 195-98 Shelley, Joseph Α., quoted, 212 Shelters, prerelease, 207-10 Sheriffs, 198 Shirman, Charles H., quoted, 160, 217 Silence, right of, 308, 309 Simulation as a Basis for Social Agent's Decisions ( S I M B A D ) , 325 Sin, Christian doctrine of, 3, 4, 253 Slack, Charles W., cited, 233 Slavery, 12, 13, 57, 60 Slums, 192, 195-97, 250 Smalley, Ruth Elizabeth, quoted, 162, 163, 172-73 Smithfield Prison, Ireland, 72 Social agencies, see Agencies Social casework, see Casework Social contract theory, 6, 7 Social insurance, 222 Social Security law, 222 Social work, 24, 29, 47, 101-4, 105, 160; medical, 21, 117-18; intake, 106-7; defined, 161; process and skill, 163-64; group action in, 191-92, 197201, 201-15; schools, 278-85, 320; public relations in, 296-98 Social workers, see Personnel Society, 12, 13-14; fear of crime in, 1; correction and, 3, 14-15, 16, 26, 69, 100-1, 104-5, 159, 160, 227, 241, 263, 276-77; punishment and, 4, 6, 7, 14, 63-64, 228, 326-27; cultural change and, 37-38, 148-49, 181, 19596, 326; institutional model of, 8083, 156-57, 201, 208; personal function in, 166, 177, 183, 196, 201, 239, 292; authority of, 171-72; group action and, 181, 191-92; group therapy model of, 184-85; human ecology and, 195-98, 250; correctional work model of, 298-99; class values and, 323-24 Society for the Improvement of Prison Discipline, 63

INDEX Sodomy, 41, 60, 256 Solitary confinement, 66, 72 South Carolina: work release program in, 315 South End Center for Alcoholics and Unattached Persons, Boston, 311 Southern Arizona Mental Health Center, 229-30, 231 Southern California, University of: School of Social Work, 279; Youth Studies Center, 325 Special Committee on Correctional Standards, 85 Special Intensive Parole Unit (SIPU), California, 268-70 Specialization, 102, 161, 172-74, 23637, 279; caseload, 269-76 Spencer, Herbert, 12 Springer v. United States, 256n Stages of servitude, see Gradations of servitude Standardization: sentencing, 35; administrative, 38-40, 48-50; social work education, 103-4 Standard Probation and Parole Act, 111, 240 State, The, see Government Staten Island, New York, 211, 314 State ex rei. Kincaid v. State Parole Board (New Jersey), 303 States: probation administration in, 29-30; probation administration by, 36-40, 42, 45, 49-50; indenture administration, 73; Youth Authorities, 84, 88 (table); parole administration by, 84-85, 88-91; community welfare organization and, 199, 209; jurisdiction limits, 247-48, 257; marriage laws, 251, 253; laws on revocation hearings, 255, 305; specialized caseloads, 276; research funds, 277; civil rights revocations in, 293-94, 305, 326-27; interstate compacts, 295-96, 321; juvenile laws, 306, 307, 308, 309; work and study furloughs, 31516; vocational training programs, 317-18; see also specific states State v. Benes (New Jersey), 30In State v. Culver (New Jersey), 30In State v. Harris (Kansas), 302 State v. Moore (Delaware), 30In Statistics: United States crime rates, 1-2; recidivism, 70, 120, 146-58, 180, 260-64, 265, 266; parole, 77, 79, 100; alcoholism, 210, 310, 311; nar-

345 cotics addicts, 313-14, 315; computer uses of, 324-25 Status passage, 83 Stephen, James, quoted, 159 Stigmata, 9-10 Stimulus-response conditioning, 229 Stockton, California, 206 Studt, Elliot, quoted, 83 Supervision: treatment and, 47, 49, 56, 101-4, 159-60, 216-35, 236-58, 26976, 289-92, 309-15; procedures, 5055; ticket of leave, 61, 71, 72; parole, 73, 74, 78-79, 80, 91-96; community welfare organization, 102-3, 160, 162-63, 191-200; agency functions in, 159; casework, 159-80, 289-92; in probation and parole, 159-215; group work, 160, 161, 162, 181-91; Interstate Compact for the Supervision of Parolees and Probationers, 248, 29596; statistics on, 262-63; intensive, 268-76; interstate, 295-96; offenders as staff, 318-23 Survivors' benefits, 222 Switzer, Mary E., quoted, 317 Sydney, Australia, 66 Synanon Foundation, Incorporated, 212-15, 314, 318 Syracuse, New York, 309 Tasmania, Australia, 62-71 Taylor, Edward M., quoted, 325 Technology, 13, 277, 324-25 Teeters, Negley K., quoted, 290-91 Tennessee, 280; vocational rehabilitation in, 317 Tests: literacy, 17; intoximeter, 130; medical, 188; psychological, 188; services, 222; merit system, 287-88; narcotic, 313 Texas, University of, 188 Thacher, Judge Oxenbridge, 19, 23 Theft, 40, 158; motivations, 98-99, 109, 250; see also Burglary Therapeutic communities, 181, 182-83, 210-15, 312, 319-23 Therapy, see Group therapy Thoreau, Henry David, quoted, 175 Thorne, Gaylord L., 229-30 Thoughts on Convict Management and Supplement ( Maconochie), 63 308 West Residence (Wilmington, Delaware), 209 Tibbits, Clark, 148

346 Ticket of leave, 61-62, 71, 72, 73, 74; mark system and, 67-69; indenture and, 73 Time perception, 234 Torture, 3, 6, 60, 64, 66 Training schools, 88 (table)·, juvenile, 1-2, 82, 85-86, 87-88, 96 Transportation system f o r felons, 5661, 64-71, 72-73 Treason, 293; probation and, 46 (table) Treatment, 297; supervision and, 47, 49, 56, 101-4, 159-60, 216-35, 23658, 269-76, 289-92, 309-15; in prison colonies, 64-72; selection for, 10620 (see also Eligibility); psychiatric, 113, 115, 116, 117, 138, 147, 16566, 181, 182, 209, 247, 313; group work, 181-91, 202-7; social action and, 192, 201-15; restitution and, 241; measurement of results, 26364; research f u n d s for, 276-77; helping experience as, 318-23; see also specific aspects, e.g., Personnel Trial, 17-20, 292; of chUdren, 25-26, 27, 42-43, 113, 306-9; by jury, 33, 48, 64, 293, 308, 309; parole revocation hearings, 48, 50, 52, 255-58, 302, 304-5; omissions of evidence, 109, 301-2; presentence reports and, 112, 300-1; transcripts, 308 Truancy, 5, 231-32 Two-fold function of probation and parole, 104-5, 159 United Kingdom, 45; see also colonies and countries United Nations: Probation and Related Matters, 20 United States Army, 147, 183 United States Attorney General, 155, 261 United States Board of Parole, 147, 318 United States Bureau of the Census, 198 United States Children's Bureau, 91, 199 United States Code, 293 United States Congress, 199, 287, 295 United States Constitution, 32, 254, 295, 303; right to counsel and, 305, 307; children and, 306-9 United States D e p a r t m e n t of Health,

INDEX Education, and Welfare, 199, 277, 309, 317 United States Economic and Youth Opportunities Program, 207 United States Office of Juvenile Delinquency and Youth Development, 199 United States Office of Vocational Rehabilitation, 316 United States Supreme Court, 31, 32, 256, 258, 295, 301-2; on right to counsel, 256, 304-5, 307-9; on denial of access, 301-2, 307 United States v. Schwenke, 301n United States Vocational Rehabilitation Administration, 199, 316, 317 Uomo delinquente, L' ( L o m b r o s o ) , 11 Urbaniek, Eugene T., quoted, 303 Urbanization, 195-96; see also Cities Utah, 203-4 Utah State Industrial School, 204 Vagrants, 40 Values, 323-24 Van Dieman's Land ( T a s m a n i a ) , 62-71 Venereal disease, 251, 252 Vera Institute of Justice, New York City, 311 Vermont, 28 Verri, Pietro and Alessandro, 5 Violations, see Rules Virginia: shipments of felons :o, 57, 58 Visits: supervision of probation and parole, 254 VISTA, 191 Vocational Rehabilitation Act (1965), 317, 318 Vocational rehabilitation agencies, 31718 Vocational training, 80-81, 117-18. 138, 317-18; base expectancy tables in, 149; rural, 198; federal, 207 316; aptitude tests, 222; correctional field, 282, 285, 286; for narcotics addicts, 313 Void, George B., 148 Vollmer, August, 195 Wages, see Salaries Walkill ( N e w Y o r k ) State Prison, 118 Walkling v. Washington State Boird of Prison Terms and Paroles, 256, 304-5 Wallace, William, Jr., quoted, 31

347

INDEX Walsh, Mike, quoted, 26 Warden v. Palumbo, 255η Wardens, 118; commutation laws and, 73; as parole board members, 86, 87, 115-16 Wards of the court, 43, 46, 125-26 Warwickshire (England) Quarter Sessions, 22 Washington, D . C.: Manpower and Training Act in, 207; prerelease guidance center, 209; United States District Court, 307 Washington state: study of adult offenders, 15 Washington State Board of Prison Terms and Paroles, 256, 304-5 Watson, John B., 229, 235 Wayne County (Michigan) Juvenile Court, 280 Weapons, 45, 64, 150-51; hunting licenses, 248-49; restriction on carrying or possessing as condition of probation and parole, 254; carrying by social workers, 290, 291 Weber, J. Robert, quoted, 203 Welfare councils, 193 Welfare organization, 193; see also Community welfare organization Wertham, Frederic, quoted, 40-42 Westport (Connecticut), Synanon Foundation, 212 Wheeler, Stanton, quoted, 82, 83 Whipping, 60, 64, 66, 70

White, Chief Justice Edward D., 32 Whittier, Η. B., cited, 266-67 Williams v. New York, 301-2 Wilmington, Delaware, 209 Wines, Enoch, 74 Wisconsin, 207; probation period, 47; parole in, 88, 90; work furloughs in, 315 Wise, Randolph E., cited, 279 Witnesses, 293, 301, 306 Witte, Ernest F., quoted, 280 Wolfgang. Marvin E., quoted, 9 Women, 59, 260; parole of, 76; violation rate of, 153; alcoholic, 210; Women (Glueck 500 Delinquent and Glueck), 260 Workhouses, 65, 73 Work release programs, 315-16, 321 Wright, John C., cited, 259 Wyoming, 13 Yablonsky, Lewis, quoted, 212n Youth Authorities, state, 84, 88 (table)·, California, 84, 190, 204-7 Youth Development Project, Texas, 188 Youthful offenders, 25-26, 43, 75, 207, 267; parole and, 74, 77, 84, 270-76; Model Youth Correction Act, 84; see also Children; Juvenile delinquents Youth Opportunities Centers, 207 Zuckerman, S. B., cited, 266-67