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The Blue-Eyed Devil For 34 years, Leonard "The Blue-Eyed Devil" Welch was known as the roughest correctional officer in the state.
Story and photos by John Coleman In the late 1970s, David "The Son of Sam" Berkowitz murdered six people and injured seven more in New York City in a string of murders that paralyzed the city with fear and had the rest of the nation on edge. Once authorities captured Berkowitz, they knew just where to send him and exactly the man they wanted to deal with him. They sent him to what was then known as Dannemora Prison, now called simply Clinton Correctional Facility, where the worst criminals in the state were sent. The man they chose to greet him and escort him into the prison is known as one of the roughest, toughest correctional officers in the history of New York State Department of Correctional Services (NYSDOC), and is, amongst fellow correctional officers, just as notorious as Son of Sam himself. He is Leonard "The Blue-Eyed Devil" Welch. "He wasn't there because he missed Sunday school." When Berkowitz arrived at Dannemora in 1978, Welch was assigned to personally escort him into the prison and Welch's company of officers were in charge of keeping watch over the prisoner. According to Welch, Berkowitz came equipped with eleven bags of luggage, expecting to be treated like a celebrity. Welch made it clear that he was to be treated the same as everyone else when he told Berkowitz to take what he could carry and that's it. "He thought everyone had to cater to him," Welch said. "He was no more famous than anyone else - he was a convict. He wasn't there because he missed Sunday school."
Truth is, if you live in the North Country towns of Ray Brook, Altona, Malone, Chateaugay, Dannemora, Elmira, Franklin, Gouverneur, Comstock or Lyon Mountain, you spend each day surrounded by criminals. Located in an area of New York known within the Department of Correctional Services as "Little Siberia," the North Country was long considered a perfect place for a prison. The cold, long winters are a fitting background for murderers, rapists, child molesters, mobsters and gangsters to repent. Welch began his career as a correctional officer in 1963 after passing the state Correctional Officer's exam. He retired in 1997. Throughout his 34 years of service, he worked at Sing Sing, Great Meadow, Clinton Correctional, Lyon Mountain, Franklin Correctional and Malone Correctional. In 1963, when he began his career as a Correctional Officer (C.O). According to Welch, it was one of the best jobs in the area, with a starting salary of $4,800 a year. As a lieutenant at Clinton C.F., Welch was in charge of a company of officers that controlled the "segregation wing" or Unit 14 of the prison – "the roughest place in the state of New York," according to Welch. These were the hardcore criminals that no one else could handle. An incident in 1971 in the segregation wing almost cost Welch his life. He, an officer at the time, attempted to break up a fight between an inmate and his sergeant. The inmate was a 6'6' karate expert and broke nearly every cervical bone in Welch's neck by judo chopping. However, after a 45-minute battle, Welch walked away, and the inmate did too - without his testicles. "By walking away, I showed the 48 inmates in segregation at the time that I'd be back," Welch said. Today, maximum security prisons rely on high tech means to control inmates. Computerized cameras keep watch over inmates and C.O.'s are always equipped with various weapons; such as, guns, tear gas, and batons to neutralize brawls. According to Linda Foglia, of the NYSDOC Public Information Office, there hasn't been a homicide in a New York State Prison since 1981. Assualts are common; however, assaults on staff have decreased from 1,098 in 1989 to 578 in 2006. Foglia attributes the decrease to incentives offered to inmates that exhibit good behavior; such as, early release - along with the threat of facing additional time in jail. According to Welch, in all his years as a C.O., he never used a stick—he used his hands; however, he was the exception. Most guards want and need protection. As violent as he seems, he loved his job and the people he got to meet over the years. He was never violent with inmates, unless it was necessary: "[A correctional officer] has to be firm, fair and consistent – if not he'll have a hard time getting along," Welch said. "I treated all the inmates the same whether they were white, black, Mexican or Puerto Rican. They did what I told them, what my officers told them and if they didn't, if they needed it, they got their butts kicked...They were treated like men. If they wanted to be treated like animals, they were treated like animals." Welch was raised by a father that was stern and strict. He also enrolled in military service. He understood the value of strict treatment. "I wanted to teach the inmates something – that life in the prison ain't nothin'. If they wanted to learn something, go to school – Dannemora has the best schools, law libraries and gymnasiums of any prison in the state," Welch said.
While working at the medium security Lyon Mountain Correctional in the 80's, Welch formed and coached a men's basketball team comprised of 10 inmates that traveled to other prisons and military bases; such as, the Airbase in Plattsburgh and Beacon Correctional, in Beacon, New York. "If they wanted to be treated like animals, they were treated like animals." They played inmate teams from other prisons as well as charity games versus Army, Air Force and state troopers at area high schools to raise money for senior citizens. According to Welch the talent level was very good, so good that one of Welch's players, after being discharged, went on to play at the University of Nebraska. "They had to tryout and they had rules. My players couldn't be written up for conflicts with officers – they had to behave...I used to take them to Ponderosa after the games – on the state," Welch said, then he laughed. As prisons modernized and new, humanitarian, methods of dealing with inmates became the standard, Welch felt his time was up and it was time to retire, Welch said. His old-school strict, but effective method was beginning to get him into some trouble and that was reflected in a fellow correctional officer and sergeant at the prison, Bill Durnin, of Malone. "[Welch] had the tendancy to go overboard," Durnin said. He laughs. According to Durnin, Welch was a tough correctional officer who did his job right, but he felt other methods were better than violence. "We tried to talk them out of it. If we couldn't talk them out of it, we'd kick their butts, but you could usually talk them out of it," Durnin said. Much like soldiers in a war, correctional officers perform civic duty everday and wake up knowing this could be the day inmates plan to riot or attack. Men, like Welch and Durnin, deserve all due respect for their years of duty. Are you employed by the New York State Department of Correction? Let us know about it! |
When the New York State Legislature passed the act to build Dannemora, it was to be built for the purpose of, "employing...State prison convicts in mining, and the manufacture of iron; together with the manufacture of such articles from iron as are principally imported from foreign countries. Such prison shall be...called by the name of the conty in which it may be located (Clinton Prison At Dannemora, p7). According to "Clinton Prison At Dannemora," a book published by the Clinton County Historical Museum, the idea of employ the inmates was a result of a 19th century "humanitarian movement" that sought for more compassion for inmates.
The location was chosen due to the largely uninhabited (and arguably at the time uninhabitable) Clinton County and the abundance of iron in the area. Read more about the history of Clinton Correctional.
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