For Hopeless, a Special Brand, Inside and Out

Sybil Brand walked down the hallways of the women’s jail with no sign of trepidation. And why not? Inmates waved and called, “Hi, Miss Sybil!” when she passed by.

One young woman rushed up and breathlessly asked, “Are you Sybil Brand? I’ve always wanted to meet you.” Shaking the woman’s hand, the 83-year-old Brand replied, “Hi, honey, how are ya?”

It’s not surprising that Sybil Brand is a celebrity inside jail walls. After all, this is the Sybil Brand Institute for Women, Los Angeles County’s custodial institution for women, named in honor of her efforts in getting it built. But Brand’s involvement is in more than name only; as chairman of the Institutional Inspection Commission she is the jail’s watchdog. To the inmates she serves as a confidant, and she relies on them to tell her when things go wrong. It’s a job she’s held for 26 years, and she doesn’t intend to give it up.

Between her job as a Los Angeles County commissioner and her involvements as a philanthropist, her days often stretch into the late hours.

Eight pages of her 12-page biography are taken up with her connections to such groups as the Leukemia Foundation, the Braille Institute, Vista del Mar and the Jeffrey Foundation for Handicapped Children, as well as the commendations and awards she has received over the years from organizations as divergent as West Point Academy and the Native Daughters of the Golden West. Framed and Perma-Plaqued, the latter cram the walls of her office in the Hall of Administration.

That office is where she conducts business four days a week as chairman of the Institutional Inspection Commission. It’s been 42 years altogether that she’s been a county commissioner.

Her closest association of all the correctional facilities is with the Sybil Brand Institute. It sits on a hill on the outskirts of Los Angeles, a building that would look like a grade school were it not for the high fences and loops of barbed wire that surround it. The bronze plaque that bears Brand’s name has become obscured by a large table and overgrown potted plant, but there is no symbolism there. She is still very much a force behind the prison.

Once every three weeks, by order of the Board of Supervisors, she makes an official inspection, taking a commissioner or two along with her as she checks on the dining facilities, the cleanliness of the rooms, the health and comfort of the inmates. Brand will even go solo on occasion to have lunch and chat with the captain and the officers.

One of the latter kinds of trips started with lunch in the officers’ dining room, followed by a lengthy tour. As she walked by one of the dormitories, Brand lamented that years ago the rooms that now hold rows of double bunk beds used to be honor dorms, single rooms the inmates could decorate the way they liked.

“Oh, you should have seen them,” she said. “They were beautiful. No other prison had them. People used to come here from all over to see the honor dorms.”

But the institute suffers from chronic overcrowding. It has a rated capacity of 910 and now houses slightly more than 2,000 inmates. Until a new facility that will house 500 is completed, the institute will continue to bulge.

Two Beauty Parlors

She walked down the halls and pointed out the various features of the facility like a proud grandmother showing off the accomplishments of her grandchildren. Two beauty parlors (one in minimum security, one in maximum) were donated by Brand. But she seemed even happier showing a visitor the ceramics shop and pointing out the figures that the inmates had fired and painted themselves. “I collect clowns, you know. When I come here I buy ‘em all,” she said as she pulled a few down from the shelves.

Next it was over to the outdoor area where inmates learn how to set tile. “Let me tell you,” Brand said, “these girls do a better job than the people you hire to come to your house.”

In the sewing room, inmates bent over sewing machines looked up as she entered, some smiled and said hello. Brand decides to buy a few clown dolls that the inmates make primarily to give to needy children at Christmas. When she’s ready to leave, her purchases are boxed and ready for her at the gate house.

There is no typical day for Sybil Brand, although they are all long, starting early when she gets up to care for her ailing husband, Harry, former head of publicity and advertising at 20th Century Fox. (Their son George is a film editor.) Four days a week she’s at the commission office. Nights are reserved for charity parties, and Brand can be seen at many of them.

“She just doesn’t turn anything down,” said her longtime friend, actor Cesar Romero (the two are often seen together at charity balls). He describes Brand as a “generous, big-hearted woman. I keep telling her she doesn’t have to go to everything, that she can say no once in a while. She can’t say no--that’s her makeup. And there’s nothing you can do about it. She’s involved in so many things, she wouldn’t think of missing an event. I don’t know whether she enjoys them or not. You know, she’s so tired. Nine out of 10 times we’ll go to the theater and midway through she’ll have a nice snooze.”

Fixture on Circuit

Brand admitted that she’s a fixture on the party circuit, and explained why: “When I’m chairman of something, I can get people to come to something I’m doing. But it’s not fair if I’m not patronizing them to ask them to help me. It’s a 50-50 deal.”

Last Thursday, on her birthday, Brand was the guest of honor at a benefit luncheon for the Jeffrey Foundation. Every year friends compete to celebrate her birthday, whether with large fund-raisers like that or more intimate private gatherings.

Sybil Brand was seated on the backyard porch of her Beverly Hills home, a place that is large, but not the sort to attract television’s Robin Leach and his “Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.” Inside, practically every inch of wall and table space is taken up with toys or pictures. Toys of every variety, from stuffed animals to dolls line the shelves, the floor and surround the fireplace. Almost all are gifts, she said, from friends. Framed pictures are stacked tightly together, showing Sybil and Harry together, Sybil and Cesar Romero, other close friends and some American Presidents who signed their best wishes.

Brand wore a simple dress with several Statue of Liberty pins dotted around the neck. On a chain sat both a crucifix and a Star of David; the cross is a gift from a friend who had Pope John Paul II bless it for Sybil. The star is next to it because she is Jewish. “Am I religious? I’m everything. The new bishop said Sybil belongs to all faiths. And that’s just the way I believe, that we should all believe in one God.”

She offered iced tea and cookies to a guest, then proceeded to feed two cookies to her dog, Winnie, as she talked about the Sybil Brand Institute and the problems it faces.

“I don’t feel very proud about (the overcrowding). But I gave (the inmates) a lecture about it when I went there last week. I said to them, look girls, I know what a terrible situation this is and how hard it is on you. But if you really love me and care about me as you say you do, here’s your chance to prove it. Try and get along with the officers; have respect for them, but they in turn must have respect for you. Promise me you’ll do this and I promise you I won’t give up until I get more rooms for you people.

“They do have a lot of respect for me because they know I care. And the reason they’re in there is because nobody cared. Look--if they had our backgrounds, if they had love in the home, respect at home, they wouldn’t be begging for love and affection. That’s why I scream and yell that the officers have to have respect for them. They cannot treat them like animals. Oh, I raised hell.”

Never Occurred to Her

Brand’s sympathies have been with the inmates ever since she became a member of the Public Welfare Commission. She never would have thought of joining the commission had it not been for a friend of her husband who came to him with the suggestion that Sybil apply for an opening on the commission. His reply: “Why don’t you ask her?” He did, she applied, and then-Supervisor Leonard Roach made the appointment.

But before she took it, Brand had just one question: “I said to him, do I have to yes anybody? He said no, that’s why we want you. I said that’s good. If I have to yes people I can’t be honest. Then I said what day do you meet and he said Wednesday. I said oh, I can’t do it, that’s my beauty parlor day! He said just wait a minute--you can change your beauty parlor day.”

She volunteered to oversee the jails, a project no one else wanted. The first time she ventured over to the women’s jail, then housed in the Hall of Justice, she was shocked by what she saw: women sleeping on the floor with bugs crawling on them, and then not being allowed to bathe more than once a week. Brand quickly turned that around, making sure they bathed once a day.

She pushed for a new women’s facility, and one was eventually found on Terminal Island. It was an old Navy brig, but for Brand it would only do temporarily. The prison was near a Star-Kist tuna packing plant and she was overwhelmed by the smell.

The solution was to pass a bond issue to get funds for a new jail. The fact that that had been tried before and failed didn’t daunt her. Using connections she had with 20th Century Fox, she had a newsreel made showing the problems of overcrowding and had it shown in movie theaters. She and some friends also sneaked up to the Hollywood Bowl one night and plastered car bumpers with “Vote Yes on Proposition B” stickers. The issue in June of 1960 went over so well, she said, there was enough money for a women’s jail, a men’s jail and several juvenile camps as well. It was because of those efforts the jail bears her name.

Supports Capital Punishment

Never let it be said that Brand’s sympathies are always with the criminal. She also maintains a strong belief in capital punishment. “Here’s how I feel,” she said. “The murderers and the ones who have done terrible, terrible things, I don’t sympathize with them. But I listen to their stories. And some of them, I suppose maybe I’d have done the same thing in their case.”

The advice she gives inmates sounds streetwise and maternal at the same time: “I’ve said to them no matter what happens, don’t lose your temper enough to kill somebody. If you don’t like them or want to get even with them, tell them to go to hell, but don’t try to kill anybody. It doesn’t pay in the long run.”

She blames the increase in women commiting crimes on drugs--and on the judges who pass sentence. “I think they’re putting the wrong people in jail,” she said. “I don’t think streetwalkers should be in jail, I don’t think drunks should be in jail and I don’t think the mentally ill should be in jail. There should be a hospital or something for them. But look what it’s costing us per bed to keep them in jail. And with prostitutes, you know a pimp will come and bail them out the next day. I’ve been yelling for a red-light district for years, and I’ve had a lot of people say, ‘Sybil, if you’re ever serious and go to bat for it, we’ll be on your team.’ Well, maybe after I’m dead they’ll do it. Who knows?”

Sybil Brand, a curious mixture of soft-hearted generosity and stubborn determination, came to Los Angeles at the age of 2 when her family moved here from Chicago. Her father was a well-to-do stockbroker. “My family (she had one brother who died years ago of leukemia) were all charitable in their own way. But they weren’t all crazy like me, doing this morning, noon and night. My mother told me when I was 5 years old a man rang our doorbell one day. I said mother, there’s a man at our door and he’s hungry. Can we give him our stove? My mother said I was giving things away since I was 2 years old.”

At Christmas, each inmate at the Sybil Brand Institute gets a gift from Sybil Brand. Even months after Christmas her living room floor is littered with presents for friends who haven’t come to pick them up. She gives gifts to favorite waiters, parking attendants, friends who give her rides, and even those friends’ pets. “And,” confided Brand’s close pal Ellen Byrens, “you can give her the dumbest thing and she’ll love it.”

On the other hand, Brand doesn’t shrink from confrontation. Feisty is the word that usually describes women of 83 who are used to getting their way. Her longtime friend, county Supervisor Kenneth Hahn, said Brand “turns out to be right most of the time. She has great influence, and everyone would like to be on her side.” And if not? “She can bad-mouth you; that can hurt plenty in the right circles.”

Brand has had her share of confrontations with Sheriff’s Capt. Helena Ashby, who has been commander of the Sybil Brand Institute for three years. Some of those, according to Ashby, can be chalked up to the fact that Brand can’t forget what the place was like in the old days.

“I can understand,” Ashby said, “that this institution is not like she remembers it. (With the increase in inmates) we have had no staff increase since 1974. She doesn’t like the overcrowding or the impersonality of the deputies. When I worked here as a deputy we had 52 inmates in a dorm. I knew everyone’s name. Now we have 162 people in a dorm and one deputy between two dorms. The deputies are really rushed and harried. She remembers the old personal style we used to have.”

But Ashby is quick to add that Brand “is committed to this institution . . . Anything Sybil can do about something, she’ll do it. She is not a hard person. She is very loving, very warm, a very giving person, and she is that way consistently while she is giving you hell.”

Brand hasn’t stopped making changes at the institute. She was instrumental in getting county money for geological tests to see if new buildings can be put up on surrounding land. And she’s fighting to have screens put up around toilets in holding facilities at sheriffs’ stations. And all of this comes from a woman who at one point decided that what she’d really like to be in life “was the head person in a restaurant who had one of those clickers and said, ‘Right this way!’ But I think God put me on this earth to do the things I’m doing, because people keep calling me up to do them. So I guess I’m not finished yet.”