DEATH  ROW AT SAN QUENTIN PRISON

Over the decades, I’ve been asked countless times, “Why do clients come to you?”

For a long time, I assumed it was because I had a creative eye or a certain talent behind the camera. But as I reflect on some of these stories, I’ve begun to realize that, at least sometimes, clients hired me because the job was difficult, maybe they needed to trust that the photographer would not shy away from the challenge and would see it through to the end. This could have been one of those jobs.

The original assignment was to photograph a day in the life of a priest who led a church group and administered last rites to Death Row inmates inside San Quentin Prison. Before I ever picked up my camera, I went through extensive vetting. There was a formal interview process that clearly outlined what I could and could not share, what I was allowed to discuss, what I could wear, and what I was absolutely prohibited from doing.

I have many stories from my time inside San Quentin, most of which are best not shared in a public forum. I was there to meet and photograph Father Barber. He was a genuinely kind man. We captured the images that were requested, and I was given a tour of the entire prison, including Death Row. An area very few people are ever allowed to enter. It was a deeply unsettling place, and I remain profoundly grateful that I was able to walk out.

One moment, in particular, has stayed with me. A solitary Death Row inmate was allowed out of his cell for an hour of recreation. As he walked down the corridor, someone shouted, “Dead man walking.” All of the other inmates were required to turn their bodies and faces toward the wall, forbidden to look at him as he passed. I was not required to follow that rule. I swear to you, the director of The Rock must have drawn inspiration for Sean Connery’s look from this man.

During the tour, I met several inmates. Their cells were far smaller than I had imagined. Surprisingly, I got along well with the men I met. They were friendly, courteous, and even helpful. Still, I never forgot where I was. You don’t get locked inside San Quentin for stealing a candy bar.

As Christmas was approaching, I told a few of my new acquaintances that I would photograph portraits of them so they could send images to their families. However, the guards, “now called Correctional Officers”, would not allow me one-on-one time with the inmates,. Nor would they permit me to shoot and distribute personal photographs. Despite the setting, I wasn’t fearful.

I instructed my assistant to set up the portrait lighting around the corner from the main shoot while I kept the guards engaged in conversation. Once everything was ready, we quietly switched places. I photographed as many inmates as I could, as quickly as possible. We were discovered shortly after the first few portraits.  I wasn’t able to photograph many of them.

Even so, the experience remains one of the most memorable of my career. I love those portraits and so did the inmates. I kept my promise and sent the photographs later. I hope they received them.

See the full series:  https://melphoto.com/portfolios/san-quentin/