Neil White - In the Sanctuary of Outcasts: A Memoir

My First Day May 3, 1993

Daddy is going to camp. Thats what I told my

Leprosy. Kahn had to be wrong. Surely, healthy peopleeven inmateswould

My building was called Dutchtown, named for a neighboring community

The walk took about five minutes. I followed Kahn, winding

Back in my prison room, I wrote a letter to

Summer

The guard banged his flashlight against the end of my

Toward the end of my first week of work in

After work the following day, I returned to my room

The guard who had caught me talking to Ella gave

The prison library occupied two rooms in a building in

After work each day, I walked the perimeter of the

My plan to write an expos about the convicts and

My menu board illustrations had become popular with the leprosy

May I please borrow your iron? I asked again.

I met Linda in Oxford, Mississippi, in 1984 when we

That night, just before lights out, Doc asked if I

On a Sunday morning in late June, in spite of

On Monday morning, I found myself alone with Ella in

One balmy night after the 10:00 P.M. count, Link invited

I was appalled that the Bureau of Prisons would force

I spent the late summer afternoons walking the inmate track.

On one of my afternoon walks, when the shade from

Docs job as an office clerk afforded him access to

Carville was full of men whose grand schemes trumped common

Steve, the ultimate entrepreneur, managed to get the best job

Fall

Frank Ragano, Jimmy Hoffas lawyer, was terrified he would catch

I missed my cologne. For years, I would douse myself

Initially, I couldnt fathom why the federal government would decide

Carville was strange in many ways, not the least of

Doc had one close friend at Carville, Dan Duchaine. Dan

As the leaves started to turn on the trees, Linda

Smeltzers efforts to profit from the inmates reached a fever

Because the leprosy patients liked my menu board illustrations, the

The prison was quiet and cool the day I turned

During the five months Id been at Carville, I had

As I immersed myself in reporting on the patients, my

On a crisp fall day, bundled in a heavy jacket,

For all that I had done wrong, one part of

I went to my room, crawled into bed, and pulled

On a Wednesday afternoon, after days of crippling despair, I

Winter

I stood behind the barricade and waited for a guard

On a Saturday morning in December, I waited with about

Outside, in the inmate courtyard, Slim waited for the children

A few weeks later, Steve Read finally invited me to

The next morning, while transcribing the menu board in the

Have you seen this? Doc asked. He handed me a

Every day after the four oclock stand-up count, the Dutchtown

My nightmares about the children persisted. In every dream, Neil

Mom brought Maggie and Neil to visit as often as

Hey, Doc, I asked, interrupting his reading, what are you

Ella, I asked, do you have any children?

I looked forward to mail call on the first of

During the cold winter months, bundled in a brown, government-issued

During a Wednesday night service at the Catholic church, I

I waited for my team meeting with five other inmates.

I left the meeting and walked to the library. As

Link was given a new job, too. The guards, who

Hey, Harry, I said, this is my last day.

On the morning before my first day of work as

As the gray winter months lingered, the leprosy patients became

As the Bureau of Prisons continued preparations to take over

Back from two weeks in parish jail, Link had found

I returned to my room to find Doc burning a

On a Sunday afternoon in late January, more than forty-five

The prison alarm echoed through the hallways, and the guards

In the midst of lockdown, I learned that my furlough

On the first two days of furlough, the kids and

After a dinner of gumbo and cornbread, Mom drove me

Spring

Back inside the colony, a guard gave me a urinalysis

Not to be left out, I drafted my own short

The prison population dwindled. U.S. marshal buses and vans arrived

In preparation for the annual patient Mardi Gras parade, the

Five days after the Mardi Gras parade, on Ash Wednesday,

If youre not careful, Jimmy Harris said while riding his

On a bright day in April, Dan Duchaine yelled out,

Late in the evening after the dance, the guards came

I stood in the breezeway and waited for Ella. I

The day before I was released, I packed my belongings.

My last night as a federal prisoner, a few inmates

My Last Day April 25, 1994

I dropped my boxes at Receiving and Discharge, in the

Frank Raganos book, Mob Lawyer, was published immediately after his

For more than a century, Carville, Louisiana, served as the United States national leprosarium. Individuals who contracted the disease were forcibly quarantined at its remote location on a bend in the Mississippi River. By the 1990s, the number of patients at Carville had dwindled to 130, the very last people in the continental United States confined because of the disease. The facility had hundreds of empty beds, so the Bureau of Prisons transferred federal convicts to Carville. In the Sanctuary of Outcasts is the story of the year I was incarcerated at the Federal Medical Center in Carville, Louisiana.

A Note on the Word Leper

I wish the word leper were not in our vocabulary. For the individuals who contract leprosy, this ancient term is deeply offensive: the label defines individuals solely on the basis of their disease and further alienates them from the world. Early in the book, I have included the term as I used itin my own ignorancewhen I first arrived at Carville. I lived with, watched, and ultimately forged friendships with the residents of Carville, many of whom welcomed convicts into their home. For this reason, I have used the term leper as sparingly as possible to depict the suffering caused by this branding, the misunderstandings about the disease, and the stigma associated with leprosy. My hope is that the book will reflect my gradual understanding of, and empathy for, this community of men and women who survived unimaginable injustice and tragedy. After the Summer section, as narrator, I do not use the word. For the remainder of the book, the term leper is confined to dialogue, sequestered within quotations.

Live oak trees separate the front of the colony from the Mississippi River levee.

Daddy is going to camp. Thats what I told my children. A child psychologist suggested it. Words like prison and jail conjure up dangerous images for children, she explained.

But it wasnt camp. It was prison.

Im Neil White, I said, introducing myself to the man in the guardhouse. I smiled. Here to self-surrender.