THE TEXAS BUILDING TENDER SYSTEM
“For decades the Texas Department of Corrections (TDC) used select inmates as extensions of the uniformed custodial force. TDC's use of inmates, however, did not parallel the more familiar practices in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas. In these states, the staff issued firearms to convict guards who provided the security force in the fields, but these "guards" were housed in separate living areas. The BTs in Texas were never given firearms, although they regularly made and had access to weapons (e.g., clubs, knives, blackjacks). Moreover, BTs lived in the same quarters as their inmate "charges." Finally, while the convict-guard roles in Mississippi, Louisiana, and Arkansas were abolished by 1972, the BT system in Texas flourished until 1982.
It is also noteworthy that BTs were not used uniformly in the TDC units. On some prison farms, such as the one designated for young (17-21 years old) offenders with no prior prison record, inmates employed in the cellblocks ("row tenders") were simply orderlies or porters, making no significant contribution to control. However, the BT system discussed in this paper was restricted to those units housing older, more violent, hardcore, and escape-prone multiple offenders. Thus, the following discussion of the building tender system's structure and operation at Johnson is relevant to less than six of the current 22 units in the TDC.
Stratification
The building tender system at Johnson involved three levels of inmates. At the top of the stratification pyramid were the "head" building tenders. Below them, the rank and file were designated as "building tenders," and the lowest stratum consisted of the 'Tunners," "hitmen," or "strikers." Of course, all these inmates enjoyed a higher status than the other inmates in the population. In 1981, there were 18 head BTs, approximately 150 regular BTs, and well over 200 runners, all of whom were evenly distributed within the prison's living areas. Each cellblock or tank housed one head BT, along with 3 to 4 BTs subordinate to him. The number of runners in a given cellblock varied from 6 to 12.
Cell assignments of these elites reflected their special status. Because of Johnson's telephone pole design, cells on the first tier (ground floor) and immediately off the main hall are the most convenient cells; head BTs always occupied these cells. Typically, other BTs occupied the middle and last cells on the first tier (furthest from the main hall) and the first cell on the second tier. BTs were rarely housed on the third tiers - these tiers were too far to climb and were the hottest ones during most of the year. Runners, who occupied the lowest and least formalized status level in the system, were distributed in no particular pattern throughout the cellblock.
The daily tasks carried out by BTs and runners were consistent with their ranks. Runners were charged with doing the scut work of the tank, sweeping, cleaning windows, and dispensing supplies to the cells. These tasks were carried out after the work day had ended, since runners held officially assigned prison jobs such as laundry, shower room, and sometimes field worker. Runners also passed along information to BTs and occasionally broke up fights. As a reward for this service, runners enjoyed more mobility than other inmates, but much less, of course, than BTs. Since they were selected wholly by the BTs, it was not uncommon for an uninitiated officer, who asked about a seemingly out-of-place inmate, to be told, "It's alright, boss, he (the runner) works for us." Some of these inmates were BT punks, but others possessed the same personal and pro-authority qualities as the BTs, and many eventually were promoted to BT status.
Since BTs did none of the domestic tasks in the tank, they were free to carry out their major role, that of managing or ruling their tank. BTs defined this area as their community, their turf. Indeed, a head BT's proprietorship of a tank was well-recognized by both inmates and officers, who would refer informally, but meaningfully, to "Jackson's tank," for example. Actual tasks carried out by head BTs and the subordinate BTs were functionally similar, primarily involving order maintenance. Such duties included conducting votes on T.V. preferences in the day room, orienting new inmates into the cellblock routine, and helping officers at count time. More directly aimed at control and order were the admonitions, sometimes aggressive, to other inmates in the cellblock to adhere to prison rules (e.g., "knock off the head running," "turn that radio down," "get your asses off the run," "sit down in the day room"). The orders were not always politely given; in most cases they were intimidating and quite derogatory, as is illustrated in the following example about a noisy day room.
Keep the fucking noise down you bunch of motherfuckers. If you weren't so fucking loud you might be able to hear me (he had earlier yelled at them to be quiet). If I punched one of you fuckers in the mouth, I bet you'd shut up then.
The blocks were their turf and BTs regularly interceded in conflicts among inmates there. Occasionally the BTs would, under their supervision, allow two quarreling inmates to fight it out and settle their differences in the "manly" way. However, intercession or "straightening out" usually meant an initial warning to an inmate(s) who was causing trouble (e.g., disturbing others, stealing, exploiting). A second reprimand was often followed by some form of physical coercion such as a slap across the face or head, or a kick or two in the buttocks. Those inmates who continued to "misbehave" were beaten and moved to another living area. This process, called "whipping him off the tank," functioned primarily to make examples of those inmates who dared to break or challenge the BTs' system of control and order. Most importantly, the staff tacitly approved and sometimes directed their inmate agents to discipline the other inmates.
The following vignette illustrates not only the proprietary feelings of BTs toward their tanks, but their power in the prison as well. A new officer told a head BT to get his tank cleaned up; the order was loudly repeated. The BT went directly to a lieutenant to report that the officer was "messing with me," whereupon the lieutenant advised the officer of his mistake and to keep out of tank business. This particular officer was never assigned to that tank area again. If an officer frequently gave the BTs a "hard time," that officer was often moved to an outside duty post such as gun towers. In short, the BTs (especially head BTs) ruled "their" tanks according to "their" rules, and even controlled the behavior of the lower ranking guards.
The above incident also illustrates the BTs' chief power base and mechanism for contributing to prison order: personal ties to upper level security personnel. BTs are institutionalized snitches, expected by the staff to ascertain and reveal information about major rule violations or potential trouble. Although this aspect of the BT's role was widely recognized by both officers and inmates, actual passage of information did not follow the formal lines of an army private reporting to anyone with a captain's rank. Instead, BTs reported information only to those officers (sergeants, lieutenants, captains, majors, wardens) with whom they had developed a personal relationship. Some ofricers were trusted by few, if any, BTs; others had demonstrated sufficient consistency and common sense in handling sensitive information that the BTs came to trust them over time. Indeed, it was a mark of success for an officer if BTs sought him out and confided in him.
Staff members who had a cadre of BTs "working" for them were in a better position to anticipate and control problems in the prison. Somewhat ironically, then, inmates were in a position to confer status on officers, even to affect indirectly their promotion. Of course, BTs expected and received more than just a sense of a job well done if they proffered information. In return, BTs anticipated future favors such as cell moves when requested, special access to the craft shop, promoting runners to BT positions, or help in obtaining a furlough. But the ties in many of these BT-officer relationships transcended a simple quid pro quo, or exchange of favors for instrumental purposes. Whereas Sykes (1958) described these relationships as informal and "corrupting," the guards in this prison consciously shared their power with the BTs. In fact, upper echelon staff members were often observed to give credence to a head BT over a cellblock officer and to call their favorite BTs by their first names. As one supervisor expressed it, "Look, BTs are going to be here awhile and they get to know the cons better than us. I can't depend on some of these officers. You know how they are, they're late, want extra days off, or just don't show up. Hell, you've got to rely on them [the BTs]." And BTs often identified so closely with a particular officer that they would "take care of his business" without specific expectations of a reward. Some BTs were so loyal to the staff that they said they would kill another inmate if so ordered.
...
Traditionally, BTs were permitted to carry weapons both to control inmates and situations that might require considerable force, and to protect themselves as well as the officers. Clearly, they were not only feared but hated by many other inmates. These weapons, usually kept more or less concealed, included clubs, shanks, pipes, blackjacks, “fist loads," and even a ballpeen hammer. A final privilege, correlated with the carrying of weapons, was relative immunity from discipline. If a fight occurred between a BT and another inmate, the non-BT might receive one night in solitary and 10 days cell restriction; the BT might receive a reprimand or, more likely, no punishment at all. This differential treatment reflected both the tacit understanding that the BT was probably "taking care of business" and the tendency of the staff to accept the self-exonerating explanation given by the BT. The BTs also exercised their power to persuade the staff to go lightly on runners who faced disciplinary cases for "helping the man."”
- James W. Marquart a & Ben M. Crouch, “Coopting the kept: Using inmates for social control in a southern prison,” Justice Quarterly, 1:4 (1984): pp. 495-499.