Pubdate: Tue, 27 Mar 2001 Source: New York Times (NY) Copyright: 2001 The New York Times Company Contact: 229 West 43rd Street, New York, NY 10036 Fax: (212) 556-3622 Website: http://www.nytimes.com/ Forum: http://forums.nytimes.com/comment/ Author: Hubert B. Herring WESTCHESTER JOURNAL: AMONG THE COMFORTABLE, PRISON ISSUES STIR UNEASE EASTVIEW, N.Y., March 24 The setting, a sleek conference center in Westchester County, seemed more likely to be the site of a sales meeting than a gathering of groups advocating for society's forgotten two million behind bars. But when nearly 500 people showed up here today, it was a glimpse of the way prison and sentencing issues are gaining a constituency among even the most comfortable. "The prison issue is no longer brown bags and sandals, meetings in church basements," said Katherine L. Vockins, a conference organizer. "Legislators will not listen unless we come across as solid." Ms. Vockins, a marketing executive from Katonah, N.Y., became interested in prison issues after her husband, Hans Hallundbaek, started teaching at the Sing Sing Correctional Facility. She said she had been energized by what she called society's shortsightedness in cutting college programs behind bars, and discussed the issue with local lawmakers. She said their response was: "We know the laws are wrong, but our constituency wants to be tough on crime. So change the constituency." No figures are available, but many Westchester churches have thriving volunteer programs in local prisons. "I was a `lock 'em up and throw away the key' person," said Nancy Steed, a corporate trainer who belongs to the Rye Presbyterian Church. Then she went to a New York Theological Seminary graduation at Sing Sing for inmates receiving certificates of ministry. "I was blown away," she said, by the inmates' intelligence and seeming sincerity. In the capacity crowd here, Westchester volunteers - many, like Ms. Vockins and Ms. Steed, with solid corporate roots - joined people with relatives behind bars and about 50 former inmates. "I came here to network," one woman said. At workshops and over lunch, the hunger to make connections was palpable: "Where can I get money for this project?" "What mental health resources exist?" "Here's a Web site." "Call me." Prisoners' rights is a hard sell, people here conceded. Even former prisoners say there are often entirely rational reasons for people to fear criminals who have committed violent offenses in the past. "You have a right to your fears," said Christopher Bradford, 42, just two weeks out of Sing Sing after serving 19 years for murder. "Let me earn a right to a second chance." Michelle Fine, a City University of New York professor, said there must be "a society both safe and just" - a balance so out of whack that "we should be ashamed of ourselves." On Tuesday, many Westchester residents are expected to rally in Albany to call for easing the state's strict Rockefeller-era drug laws. Others insist drug laws should be tough. "Drug dealing is a cancer," said Bridget G. Brennan, New York City's special narcotics prosecutor. "The only way to deter that is to create a punishment that's harsh enough." Steven M. Fishner, Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani's criminal justice coordinator, said that too often former inmates "have committed serious crimes while on parole." He added, "The focal point should be protection of victims." Among the ex-inmates at the conference, called "Can Anything Good Come Out of Prison?," was Anthony Papa, whose painting talent helped win him clemency on a drug conviction in 1997. A recurrent issue was family ties. "The next time you hear someone make a comment about a criminal," said Emani Davis, 22, whose father has been in prison for homicide since she was 6, "tell them they have families who love them." Her mother, Elizabeth Gaynes, is executive director of the Osborne Association, a support group for former prisoners and their families. Theodore Haywood, convicted of homicide, asked those in the audience who had "connected with me at some point" to stand. Then, on seeing perhaps 20 people get up, he said, "I'm standing on their shoulders." Mrs. Steed's husband, Robert Steed, closed by saying it was not enough for those at the conference to share their views with one another. "We're preaching to the choir," he said, "but the choir has an obligation to go out and sing." - --- MAP posted-by: Andrew