 One of the most vital tasks at the Frackville state prison in East Central Pennsylvania is mess hall guarding. Only the cream of the guard force is assigned to the demanding responsibility. They comprise an elite cadre of the finest guards in the prison.
There's an inordinate degree of fear among many of the Frackville prison guards, so large gangs of them assemble together. The messhall (or "mess hall," if you prefer) overflows with guards. Most aren't the elite cadre. For ordinary guards it's a very scary place. Occasionally there may be over a hundred prisoners at a time in the messhall. That's terrifying! To ease their fears, the messhall is divided into two separate rooms. Each room has its own small army of guards. Mostly they simply lounge around leaning on the soiled walls. Guards are remarkably lazy. Like all Pennsylvania prison guards, those at the Frackville prison, pride themselves on how little they do. The messhall crew passes time by gossiping, gambling, griping and "gritting," but they're frightened, too. Like a lockerroom for sissies, the place is rife with the musky reek of guard anxiety. To dine, prisoners sit four at a small Formica-toped table. They straddle little round hemorrhoid-typing benches that are welded to the tables. The tables in turn are bolted into the soiled floor. The guards are scared they might get hit by a chair.
Mary is the ace in Frackville prison spoon security. He's a big dummy, frightened, but always watchful for spoons, forks and pencils, too, for that matter. Mary's such an accomplished messhall elite, that he also guards against eggs. Mary has a degree in egg gurading as well as one in fork filching. Occassionally prisoners are fed hard-boiled eggs. One of the most terrifying things that can happen is for a hard-boiled egg to be carried out of the messhall. We can all see how dangerous a hard-boiled egg could be, can't we? Mary diligently searches suspicious prisoners to interdict the escape of dangerous illicit eggs. For his hundred bucks a day plus extravagant benefits, he guards against ten-cent eggs. It's a great way to spend taxpayers' money. Of course, the real reason is to keep prisoners from enjoying an egg later in the day. Like many Frackville prison guards, Mary's petty. He's aim is to make prisoners miserable. It's a personality flaw. The second most demanding messhall task is tray-tending. A watchful expert stands close to the window through which food trays are given to prisoners. His responsibility is insure that no prisoner receives an "extra" scrap of food. He secures the food so that the guards have plenty to steal for themselves. Most of the theft in the prisons is done by guards. The keen-eyed tray-tender is especially watchful for an extra packet of sugar. The prison buys sugar for three packets for a penny. The tray-tender is paid over a hundred dollars a day plus extravagant perks to safeguard 1/3 cent worth of sugar. That makes sense in a "Fracks" kind of way. The third task for the messhall elite is maitre d'. It's critical that prisoners sit exactly where they should. Once somebody got into the wrong spot. The prison had to be shut down for hours. The administration couldn't figure out what to do. The maitre d's important task is to direct prisoners to their proper seats. It's a very exacting business that requires special training. Only the elite can manage it. Milling around the entrance of the messhall are guard captains, lieutenants, sergeants and often the warden himself. He's easy to spot in his foppish Wal-Mart suits. All the executive authority reflects how vital messhall guarding is. Only one of these guys, a sergeant with practical common sense and real management skills, actually does anything. The others are overpaid spectators.
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The elite cadre is assigned to do the most difficult guarding chores. At the head of the list is spoon security. As prisoners file out of the messhall