The Culture of Punishment: Prison, Society, and Spectacle

Acknowledgments

vii Acknowledgments I benefited from a critical set of comments and suggestions on this manuscript in its most distant and earliest stages, provided by a wonderful set of intellectuals: criminologist Steven Chermak, sociologist Katherine Beckett, literary scholar Eva Cherniavsky, historian Ellen Dwyer , and anthropologists Carol Greenhouse and Stephanie Kane. I hope they find traces of their own work and commitments in what this manuscript is today. Thanks to my current home, the Department of Sociology and Anthropology at Ohio University, and especially to my colleagues, Joseph De Angelis, Haley Duschinski, Nancy Tatarek, and Deborah Thorne, who played supportive, nurturing roles in the volume’s progress, often providing me with readings and ideas that substantively transformed this work (many times without knowing it). Many thanks as well to esteemed colleagues across the field who took an interest and supportive role in the project at various phases and in its many incarnations, including Jeff Ferrell , David Greenberg, and Nicole Rafter. A deep note of appreciation goes out to Sean M. Kelley, program director at Eastern State Penitentiary, who generously and enthusiastically shared photos, research, history, and, not least, his time. Also at Eastern State, Andrea (Ang) Reidell, assistant program director for Education, and Sally Elk, executive director, graciously gave of their time and expertise. Pat Kleinedler, tour secretary of the Moundsville Economic Development Council, along with other staff members at West Virginia Penitentiary and the Ohio State Reformatory, graciously and enthusiastically provided detailed historical accounts and access to the prison and its daily and special events operations. Thanks also to Dr. Ellen H. Belcher, Special Collections librarian, at the Lloyd Sealy Library of the John Jay College of Criminal Justice, who assisted me in accessing Robert Martinson’s personal papers. Of course, many undergraduate and graduate students helped in bringing this volume to bear, through classroom discussions, research assistance , tough questions, and sheer enthusiasm. Special thanks are deserved viii Acknowledgments by a long but not exhaustive list of former and current students: Ashley Demyan, Danielle Fagen, Tara Livelsberger, Brandon Long, and Emily Vance played key research roles. Rebecca Carson and Kristie Garrison, who serendipitously introduced me to the overnight prison ghost hunt, initiated a key turn in my research toward prison tourism. Finally, from within and without prison, spanning classrooms, living rooms, and community centers, Melissa Benton has been a long-term motivating force in the development of this manuscript, and her success is a story of the life given over to the work of punishment—as a witness, not a spectator. In the end, this volume’s existence depends upon a gesture of faith by a select group of individuals. I am indebted to executive editor Ilene Kalish and editorial assistant Aiden Amos, who provided me, a first-time author, with a supportive and superb experience through NYU Press, as did Jeff Ferrell, series editor for Alternative Criminology, and a small group of excellent anonymous reviewers. Their comments truly made this book better and taught me much as a writer. Others have taught me more than words can tell. The writing of this volume took place as my family, near and far, existed in a whirlwind of loss. Although it is difficult for me to see, I know that experience and those lives are inseparable from this text. It is my sister, Amanda Brown-Gould, who has most often conveyed this to me, reminding me that I am always my mother’s daughter. Finally, one person in particular has provided a warm dwelling of support and sustenance for this project—my partner, Bruce Hoffman. Any effort to express gratitude for such space runs up against what has for a long time now been a deep, wordless thankfulness. This volume is an effort which depended in so many ways upon his time, insights, and expertise, but more importantly, on his compassionate way of looking at and building the world. For those reasons, this book is dedicated—with much love—to him and to my mother, Morgan Brown, together—as I think they would prefer it—the two people who have patiently taught me most about the promise of things that exceed what we know, of words and worlds beyond prisons. ...