Amidst the desert terrain some 15 miles north of the Las Vegas Strip, you will find the grandstands and banked tracks of the Las Vegas Speedway. On an exciting day, racecars scream down the straightaways at speeds topping 200mph, cheered on by thousands of fans. The Speedway is located on the western side of Las Vegas Blvd. Directly across the street, on the eastern side of the boulevard, stands a "minimum security" Federal Prison Camp within the larger jurisdiction of Nellis Air Force Base. Inside these prison grounds, an exciting day is roast beef Thursdays.
Turning right into Gate Number Two at Nellis, you are struck by the vastness of the desert as you wind through the base. Directly ahead of you towers the west face of the approaching mountain range. No buildings, just desert road. In the distance I could see our destination, the Federal Prison. Being a first-time prison visitor was a strange feeling. Approaching the Air Force gate, I turned to my companions for the trip, Jim Stansfield and Ray Shroyer - who were not first-time visitors - and asked if they had the same queasy feeling in their stomachs as I did.
"Yes" was the answer in unison, given without hesitation. At the guard gate there were a number of cars pulled off to the side, ready for the beginning of the 5:00PM to 9:00PM Friday night visiting hours at the prison camp. A security officer in a white pickup truck kept everyone from entering prior to 5:00PM. The security guard approached our rental car, never leaving his truck, and asked for picture I.D.'s.
There were three things Ted told us to bring: picture I.D.'s, proof of auto insurance, and two rolls of quarters for the vending machines. I had them all. Our security officer gave us a briefing, directions to the visiting center, and a form to fill out. "Please have the form filled out prior to entering the visiting center" were his very specific instructions.
Jim had been here before visiting inmate # 10200-026, Ted Furkin. Ted is in year seven of a 12-year prison sentence after being convicted of various white-collar crimes. He was arrested in July 1994 at the airport and has never breathed free air since. He was denied bail at every request during his trial, even though he had never been arrested in his life. He was sentenced to 12 years in Federal Prison and fined $2.4 million. The harshness of his sentence, according to Ted, was due to his unwavering loyalty to his industry friends. Ted states at one point he was offered a 15-to 18-month sentence in exchange for cooperating with officials, which he never did.
There's no parole for Federal offenses, I learned, except for a sentence reduction of 54 days per year of "good time" served. Barring a total abdication, which could occur at anytime as a result of multiple actions that have been filed on Ted's behalf, Ted's best case for dismissal is in the year 2004. He will be 67 years old. His Federal Prison tour has taken him to Las Vegas via prison stays in Chicago, Texas, and Arizona.
We have filled out our forms, complete with the license plate of the rental car we were driving. Our cell phones, pagers, currency, and any papers we had wanted to take in were to be left in the car. They were not allowed in the visitation center. At 5:20 PM we entered a room, greeted by a female guard and a male guard. We presented our completed forms, and picture ID's again. This time she was to keep the picture ID until we left.
The room was probably 50 feet square. The walls are painted a drab brown with the exception of a multi-colored rainbow that is painted from floor to ceiling near one corner. It was clearly a painter's attempt to brighten up the place and make it feel warmer and more friendly. His attempt was a total failure. The floor was cold, full of old tile and more brown. Our selected table was a 30" round table with four plastic chairs. In this room there were easily 30 of these small blue tables placed equidistant throughout the room. There were restrooms for visitors, and a pop and snack machine room.
The room that was the toughest to look at was the small glassed-in room that served as the un-staffed play area for the numerous small children who were present for their weekly four-hour visit with Dad.
Interesting to me was that each of these rooms off the main area had a highly visible, plastic engraved-brown sign with the words: "OUT OF BOUNDS for inmates." The inmates were allowed into the main room, but not allowed to go into the vending room to purchase a bottle of water. Nor were they allowed to use the restrooms. My perception of a minimum-security prison camp is becoming harsher by the minute.
Ted knew we were coming. As Jim and Ray had done before me, you have to request to the inmate that you want to visit him. The inmate then sends you a form to submit. After submitting your basic personal history to the proper authorities, hopefully you are then put on his Approved Visitors list. This was my summer project. It took two months to get the approval.
After sitting and shifting nervously in our chairs for about 15 minutes, we look up as Ted appears at the prisoners' entry door. The prisoners have their own entry. The prisoners are checked coming in and out of the room. The only thing they can take with them at the visit is what they've ingested. In our case, Ted took with him one bottle of water and half of a bag of Peanut M & M's.
Ted is the fittest looking 63-year-old man I've seen in a long time. He is tanned, rested and well-fed. His tan, short-sleeved, button up the front shirt and tan slacks fit Ted as if his tailor had customized them. This is the uniform of the prisoners. Ted works out three times per week at the prison fitness center.
I had thought it would be strange to see Ted again after seven years. After all, the last time I saw him we were playing golf after an AMOA meeting at the Hapuna Bay Resort on the Big Island of Hawaii. This is too much of a shift in settings to even try to explain. Ted was a hard-working, dedicated member of the AMOA Board of Directors for a number of years. He made friends of many of us during those years.
Two things stick in my mind about Ted that were different than I remember. Maybe the two differences are really one. I'll explain. When Ted looks at you, it is very intense. His eyes were piercing. I felt he was looking at me far beyond my eyes, while looking directly into them. At first it was a little uncomfortable. Secondly, his sincerity in everything he said was from deep within himself. Many of you will remember that Ted has that "gift of gab." Make no mistake. He still does. He now talks with a level of maturity that only comes with the passing of time and inner reflection. I would guess he has experienced both in his seven years in prison. He was simultaneously funny and philosophical throughout our visit.
If Ted was the only one in the visiting room with us, the trip would have been emotional for sure. But the surrounding guests were the cause of the most emotional moments for me. A Mexican man with a ponytail sits with his wife and two-year-old child next to us. I think he held his son in his arms the entire three hours we were there. A wife sits in the corner with her husband and sobs. Small children were everywhere, including crawling on the floor under your feet.
Do they know where they are?, I wondered. How in the world do you sit in prison knowing that your children are growing up without you? How do you survive that? I'm certain that most of these men did something bad to get in this place, but is anything worth being separated from your family like this? The only thing worse than watching these joyous men greet their arriving families, I thought, would be to watch them say goodbye at the conclusion of visiting hours. For that reason alone we left just minutes before 8:00PM.
Ted's real impact on the industry was as the developer, with his business partner Len Smiken, of the Silent Partner software, our industry's first effective route management program for desktop computers. Ted's development skills, and sales skills, played an important role in this industry becoming computer-literate in the early days of transitioning routes to computer automation.
During most of our visit with Ted, the three of us leaned toward the center of the table, conversing. At least one person thought this was suspicious. (Actually, it was so loud in there, mostly from inmates playing with their children - who weren't hiding their joy of being with their dads.) It was really a result of three men that can't hear like we used to. In the only light moment of the visit, an attractive and friendly female security guard comes over and jokingly asks what we're plotting. Ted jokes with her, and she jokes right back. She seemed nice enough, for a woman in a prison guard uniform.
The story about Ted's transfer from Arizona to his current home in Las Vegas took me by surprise. The Arizona warden gave him a furlow to transfer to Nevada that included a Greyhound bus ticket and money for food. No guard, no accompaniment whatsoever. He was told to report in 16 hours or less. Otherwise, they would come looking for him.
I would like to be able to tell you what Christmas is like for Ted this last seven years. I couldn't bring myself to ask. I would like to tell you that he attends church in the prison and that he has become active. Again, no courage on my part. My next trip, these are questions I will ask. I did learn that for Ted, the highlight of life at Nellis is right out of the "Longest Yard" (you may recall the old movie starring Burt Reynolds). Seems the Air Force occasionally sends their best softball team to take on the inmates.
I don't know the details of Ted's charges and don't really care. One thing I think is safe to say is that if Ted had never seen a video poker game, he wouldn't be in prison. It seems to be the basis of all of the charges against him. I think many who read this article may feel like "There but for the grace of God go I"-and for good reason. In this industry, many of us live with this possibility every single day. Ted is there, living it every day as reality, not possibility. Confinement in the federal justice system will continue to be his daily reality for three more years.
Ted was a very popular industry figure. He had lots of friends. Apparently,
though, not as many as he thought. He gets visited about once every 60 days.
He corresponds with a number of friends and family on the outside. It was
a pretty low moment for me when I realized that I have been in towns where
Ted has been incarcerated at least a dozen times over the years, and this
is the first time I made a point to go see him. I'll be back at the Federal
Prison as soon as my travels take me back to Las Vegas, which is frequently.
Ted would love to hear from you. He was a coin machine operator for many
years and still loves the business. He couldn't get enough news from us
about what's going on in the business. If you don't know Ted, drop him a
note anyway. Put him on your Christmas list. Just say hello. You can send
mail to Ted at the following address: Ted Furkin #10200-026, FPC Building
B, Nellis, CS4500, North Las Vegas, NV 89036.