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Mother California: A Story of Redemption Behind Bars

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Imagine serving 30 years in prison with no end in sight. Would you survive? Would you not just survive, but actually grow as a person?

While serving a sentence of life without the possibility of parole ("the other death sentence") in California's massive prison system, Kenneth Hartman morphed from a violent killer, "a 19-year-old thug from the blasted wasteland of South Los Angeles' urban, post-industrial decay," to an award-winning author, philosopher, and prison reformer.

The subtitle of his autobiography is "A Story of Redemption Behind Bars." But Mother California tells a story much bigger than one man's personal odyssey. Through Hartman, we witness how three decades of irrational, tough-on-crime rhetoric has plunged California's prisons into an abyss of despair, violence, and criminal recidivism, all the while bankrupting state governments.

Take Christmas. When Hartman first came to prison, in the early 1980s, the cellblocks were decked out in holiday lights, wreaths, and trees. Prisoners decorated their cells with holiday cards from loved ones, the Salvation Army donated candy and nuts, and, in the visiting room, "one of the old guys dressed up as Santa Claus for pictures with the kids and the young wives."

Within 15 years, holidays had been banished. Santa was gone, along with the decorations and treats. Every day resembled the last in its dreary monotony. "The walls are the same unadorned concrete every day of the year. My first Christmas at Tehachapi, one of the guards got on the public address system to tell us about the great meal he would soon be enjoying, the time he would be spending with his family. We didn't deserve to be with our families, he ranted, we were just where we belonged and have a hearty Merry (bleep) Christmas."

Watching helplessly as his beloved weight-training equipment is loaded onto the back of a flatbed truck, Hartman realizes "how far the advocates of punishment-for-the-sake-of-inflicting pain will go to turn the clock back" and erase the progressive reforms won by prisoners during the 1970s.

Hartman articulately chronicles the divergent impacts of this tough-on-crime politicking on daily life in prison. At Tehachapi, one of the newer prisons, guards are hyper-aggressive and controlling. At Lancaster, in contrast, the guards have ceded control, locking themselves in their control centers and allowing unchecked chaos and violence. The chapel becomes a crack house, the odors of marijuana and pruno (home-made liquor) fill the air, and almost everyone is high and destitute.

Hartman is not only an award-winning author, he is also an accomplished activist. Determined to put his accumulated wisdom and principles into practice, Hartman worked with other prisoners and non-custody staff to design a special program at Lancaster Prison called the Honor Yard. Founded in 2000, the program provides a separate community for 600 men who have committed to living productive lives in which they give back to the community and make amends for past wrongdoings. They must commit to abstaining from gangs, violence, drugs, and racism. Hartman is currently involved in a campaign to eliminate life sentences.

In a country that locks up 1 out of 100 adults, far more than any other nation on earth, and where one 1 of 11 prisoners is serving life, Hartman's eye-opening treatise should be on the required reading list for all high school and college students.

A longer version of this essay, with links to Hartman's online essays, is available at my forensic psychology blog, bit.ly/blogforensics.

I work in a prison, and I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn more about a dark part of life that most people in the public know little about. The book is more than just a story of one man's life behind bars; it speaks to the unfortunate circumstances in which the State of California finds itself. Kenneth Hartman gives a very balanced view of the prison environment. He does not apologize for his life circumstances, yet he leaves the reader with a richer understanding of what it is like behind bars. There is a deep sadness that comes across in his writing, along with a message for reform of our current system of punishment. By delving into this fine read, one can readily see the need for prevention and reformation, and the difficulties of achieving redemption within the California prison system.

I've read quite a few prison memoirs and this is up there with the best in the class. Kenneth Hartman tells most of his life story in this book (and in doing so he makes a great case for doing away with the harsh U.S. sentencing guidelines). This is a personal book but it moves the reader to get involved in some type of prison reform. He writes in a straightforward and gripping manner. I finished this book in two days and could barely put it down from the moment I started it.

Kenneth Hartman killed a homeless California man for no reason at age 19, in 1980. It was not his first problem with the law. Caught within 24 hours, he was sentenced to life without parole (LWOP). Since he was 16, Hartman has been out 86 days - hence the book's name "Mother California." Hartman calls his sentence 'the other death penalty,' 'infinite meaninglessness.' He also asserts that most prisoners are poorly educated, with unresolved mental issues, low self-esteem, and addiction problems, and that enhanced/increased visiting privileges to build family ties, higher education, and quality drug and alcohol treatment lower recidivism but are opposed by special interest groups - a 2006 San Diego Union-Tribune article reported that 10% of California correctional officers earned over $100,000 in 2005. (My reading of the data on treatment programs is much less sanguine.)

His first years were spent trying to stay near the top of prison society - always armed with a shank, and frequently using it on his fellow inmates. Drug traffic flourished within prison walls, thanks to visitors, packages, and even guards, and Hartman did at least his share. (Payment goes to a free-world address within ten days, and doubles every ten days. Recalcitrance leads to severe beating, if one is lucky.) Hartman also spends as much as 9 months at a time in solitary, accompanied only by a 12" B&W TV. Race 'conflict' (a euphemism) is endemic throughout the prison system, and depending on location, stabbings may be as well (20-30/month at Folsom). Readers also learn that painted floors help identify where shanks are produced, guards are often abusive towards inmates, and complaints against those in the system often result in retaliation.

Eventually Hartman begins attending group therapy, finds love, marries a very attractive woman employed as a legal secretary (what was she thinking?), becomes the father of a girl (now a teenager), and joins a creative writing group. He even stops using drugs, though the transition is slow - at first Hartman uses his wife to smuggle in drugs contained in a balloon which he'd swallow (avoid detection), then 'retrieve' a day or so later. His wife goes through severe depression after childbirth and quits work to care for the child; she has now returned to work.

Years after beginning his sentence, Hartman comes to regret his past, respects his parent's past efforts and accomplishments, stops participating in the prison violence and racial hatred, and helped establish an honors program for those who qualify and want a peaceful life within prison. California, meanwhile, becomes swept up in the punishment movement - cutting programs, visitations, food expenditures, and even taking away their weights. He blames these changes for recidivism rates rising from 30% when he first came to prison to today's 70%, and California's higher than average prison suicide rates.

Bottom-Line: Hartman is correct when he points out the waste of resources bottled up within America's prisons - mostly for drug issues and associated underlying problems. We lead the world in incarceration rates, except possibly for China. As for Hartman - could he be a valuable member of society? Yes. Has he reformed - probably. Would I feel comfortable with his release - probably not.

I was gripped by this book. I read it in one day. Prison life is hidden from us and while there are many points on which I could comment including how articulate the author is and how he moved me to understand his life, I am taken by the public policy matters that are interweaved through the violence, pain and even joy. The issue of overcrowding; the consequences of mandatory sentences and life without parole are issues that affect us all even though they are mostly hidden away behind bars.

I have read many accounts of prison, but this one really struck me. Read it in a few days and couldn't put it down. I was gripped early on by the brutality of prison, and Ken's description of the gang activity. I still feel deeply moved as to how Ken turned his life around, his constant campaigning, and how he enabled The Honor Progam (the creation of safer living quarters in prison for the better behaved inmates), which he is still battling for. I enjoyed his deep insights into the system, including how prison has changed/deteriorated over the years. I highly recommend this book to anyone looking for an honest account of the harsh California prison system.

My own jail memoir:

Hard Time: Life with Sheriff Joe Arpaio in America's Toughest Jail

Mother California: A Story of Redemption Behind Bars by Lifer Ken Hartman is a story as inspirational as it gets. While raw and uncompromising in its description of California's penal system it is more than just an indictment of institutions run amok. It offers an insider's view of a path to personal redemption that provides a ray of hope even arguing for the possibility of meaningful personal growth amid the bedlam that is California's overcrowded Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation. Hartman is a change agent who tells it like it is, taking full responsibility for the personal choices he made as a youth that landed him in prison with a sentence of life without the possibility of parole. His journey of discovery and advocacy for the fledgling prison reform Honor Project he helped to start is a compelling story that leaves you wanting to hear more from this brilliant self taught writer.

Kenneth E. Hartman is a masterful writer, bringing us into his world. His memoir is intense. We're pleased to have an uplifting story (Seeking Peace) by Kenneth in our latest book "Serving Productive Time." - Tom Lagana, co-author "Chicken Soup for the Prisoner's Soul," "Chicken Soup for the Volunteer's Soul," "Serving Productive Time," and "Serving Time, Serving Others."

Serving Productive Time: Stories, Poems, and Tips to Inspire Positive Change from Inmates, Prison Staff, and Volunteers

Chicken Soup for the Prisoner's Soul: 101 Stories to Open the Heart and Rekindle the Spirit of Hope, Healing and Forgiveness (Chicken Soup for the Soul)

Serving Time, Serving Others: Acts of Kindness by Inmates, Prison Staff, Victims, and Volunteers

Kenneth Hartman tells a story of two wasted lives. He owns his responsibility for killing his victim. He even expresses remorse for his action. He tells his compelling story without accepting
responsibility for wasting his own talent and intellect in the
California prison system. His descriptions of his prison experience are compelling and spot on in most cases. Yet, he fails to offer any ways to improve our prison system. Mother California is an entertaining and informative read and should be considered by everyone wishing to be a responsible, productive citizen.
Ralph Spinelli

I recieved the book in a timely fashion and it was in exelent quality, and an exelent reader. Thank you.