The Gang's All Here

It started as the first shift of prisoners was marching out of the mess hall at the Illinois State Penitentiary at Pontiac; the next group came shuffling by, headed toward the tables. Suddenly more than 100 convicts were battling with cleaning utensils, metal trays and homemade knives. The melee lasted until a guard fired tear-gas grenades into the hall 20 minutes later -too late to save the lives of two young convicts who had been stabbed.

Their deaths last December were violent evidence of a serious new form of prison unrest. They did not die in an ordinary penitentiary riot, but in a full-scale street-gang rumble, transported virtually intact from the Chicago slums into the prison. Gang activity now plagues penal systems not only in Illinois but in California, New Jersey and New York, among others. Indeed, nearly every prison that draws inmates from large urban areas these days must deal with gangs operating behind bars.

At Pontiac the problem is especially acute. Two years ago, police began a crackdown on such Chicago gang "nations" as the Black P. Stones, Black Disciples and Vice Lords. Today, there are probably as many members inside Pontiac as on the streets. After the fatal rumble, most prisoners were kept "on deadlock" -that is, in their cells all day as well as all night. Only this month were the final 200 inmates released from deadlock. With the return to comparative calm, TIME Correspondent Joseph Boyce was admitted to Pontiac and talked with inmate leaders about the killings and what might happen next. His report:

All four prisoners were in their early 20s -tough, streetsmart, prison-wise. They compared jails the way Yalies compare prep schools. They shied away from pointing to specific causes for the fight. "All the tensions just came out," said Earl Moore, Pontiac head of the Disciples. Gang rivalries had been going on for some time. According to the leaders, each organization had preserved some form of identification -either a private greeting that members gave each other or special berets or insignia they were permitted to wear. Fights that normally would have remained disputes between two individuals exploded into confrontations between the exclusively black gangs. The grapevine was ripe with ominous rumors about a mass confrontation. But "no one realized that someone might lose his life," said John ("Shaka") Parker, an editor of the prison newsletter.

Afterward, while the cons were on deadlock, Warden John Petrilli began meeting with the gang leaders. "At first everyone came and just glared at each other," said Rudy Moore, chief of the Black P. Stones. The initial meetings were heated and dominated by loud talk and badmouthing. But, said Rudy, "it finally dawned on us that this wasn't too hep." Gradually agreements were reached: recruiting was prohibited; there would be no interference with a guard disciplining an inmate; an organization leader was to be held accountable for the actions of members; disputes were to be negotiated.

The leaders also agreed to crack down on the prison rumor mill. "Before," said Rudy, "if a guy saw a Stone [Black P. Stone] with a knife, he'd go and tell the Ds [Disciples]." Added Andrew ("Candy Blue") Brooks, boss of the Vice Lords: "Now when a dude makes that kind of charge, he is brought before the leaders. Now the rumor man has to validate his stories." Finally, a drive was organized by the leaders to dispose of all "shanks" (knives). "What we have here now," Earl Moore said, "is a sort of United Nations to settle disagreements. The U.N. folks have their SALT talks; we have our shank talks."

The leaders were not eager to relinquish all organizational individuality, and Petrilli was reluctant to press too hard. Members continue to give gang salutes. "The guys still identify as members," admitted Rudy, "but it's more like belonging to a political party."

Despite all the talk about detente, things are not settled at Pontiac. No one has yet been charged in the knifings during the mess-hall scrape, and between 25 and 30 cons believed to have been most involved are still isolated in a special cell unit. Petrilli has long been criticized by guards and others for working with the gangs instead of trying to break them up. But, he argues, "the gangs didn't form here. The men have their own leadership -they came in with it." He is still committed to the delicate task of trying to use that structure to restore peace at Pontiac.

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