The Rookie And the
Frackville Reel By: J.T. Welch
 The state prison at Frackville in East Central Pennsylvania has an enormous glut of guards, perhaps twice the number the taxpayers should be supporting. They do little except precipitate strife.
With typical Frackville efficiency, the administration addressed the glut by hiring even more unneeded drones.
The standards for employment as a Pennsylvania prison guard have always been humorously low. The biggest test is how often he/she can bellow "motherfucker" in 30 seconds. In order to hire still more guards, the standards have been dropped even further. (Don't ask one to spell vacuous.) One rookie is about seven feet tall. That's his sole qualification for a state paycheck. He resembles a bloated version of the playground bully on The Simpsons, only he's not as bright. Like Arnold, he's offensive. He's a bully, pompous, insulting and self-important. In other words, he's on his way to becoming an ordinary prison guard. His major talent is being obnoxiously smart-aleck. It's as close as he can get to being clever. Then there's the runt with the personality (and something of the appearance) of a Chihuahua. He stalks around the cellblock at six in the morning kicking as hard as he can on cell doors. His aim is to rudely startle sleeping prisoners. He's no longer a rookie, but he wants those sleeping prisoners to recognize how important and uncivil he is. Besides, he can't count all the way to two if men aren't awake. One of the 12,006 rules that rookies are expected to enforce (or invent) is the frolicking Frackville Reel. It's a kind of amusing little dance done in the prison messhall. Frackville guards can't cope with even the most ordinary vicissitudes of daily affairs. In fact, they have a problem coping with almost every little thing. To help them out in the prison dining room, the Frackville Reel is a required drill. Instead of taking a direct route from the messhall, a prisoner is required to dance around the table, curtsy twice and say "mother, may I?" It's not really quite that inane. But prisoners must circle around tables and around the room. They are forbidden to take a direct route from the dining room. There's no rational reason for the dance other than to help incompetent guards cope. Somehow, it's easier for a small mind to deal with prisoners if they're milling around like River Dance doing the two-step. The commissioned officers set the example for rookie guards. When the dancers emerge winded, an addict lieutenant likes to stand outside the dining room door puffing fags and exhaling billows of secondhand smoke on asthmatic prisoners. Addiction is common among Frackville guards. Alcohol, drugs, course language, bullying and unnatural fixations on naked men and sexuality are among the common addictions. Cigarettes are a drug, of course. Most guards are addicted. Following the example of the lieutenants, the seven-foot Arnold tries to be an ideal rookie. He tries to show off, especially to female employees. It's sadly pathetic. It's even sillier when he tries to show off to the prisoners. They figure he's a jerk, which isn't far wrong. He's also learning the Frackville addiction to lying. McPeeker, one of the guards who likes to root around through prisoners' meager possessions, is a liar's liar. McPeeker is a Greek god of a man, in fact, he's three or four Greek gods especially in the waist and double chins. He seems fixated on drugs and alcohol, perhaps because of his own addictions. In common with most Frackville prison guards, he's a liar. He exaggerates, invents and perhaps hallucinates. It's wrong to paint with too broad a brush. A growing number of the younger guards are civil and personable. They don't seem to feel so threatened by their surroundings. This minority does their job without rancor or aggression. Regrettably, they are greatly outnumbered by the Arnold-types.
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