A Dedication to Enjoy and Savor

It was, everyone kept insisting, a day to remember, the experience of a lifetime.

President Bush was coming to Castaic--yes, Castaic-- to dedicate a new maximum-security jail, and more than 2,000 people gathered to hear him speak and watch him cut a ribbon.

Among the hundreds of onlookers outside the administration building of the new North County Correctional Facility were 235 freshly scrubbed trainees bused in from the Sheriff’s Academy. A sheriff’s deputy, 40-ish and athletic, addressed two boyish trainees as they waited in line at the portable restrooms hauled up the hill to the jail.

“This must be pretty exciting for someone in Academy,” the deputy said enthusiastically. It was, he added, “a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

The trainees nodded respectfully but did not speak. Like most of their counterparts, they were trying hard to look seasoned, which isn’t easy when your haircut makes you look like a gosling. But their shoes and belt buckles were brightly shined, their uniforms crisply pressed. Everyone present--from deputy to trainee to civilian--looked sharp.

The site of all this was the curiously named Peter J. Pitchess Honor Rancho, which--to borrow from a famous description of the Holy Roman Empire--is neither a ranch nor is residence there honorable. It is, in fact, a 34-acre jail complex housing 7,500 inmates. The premier architectural feature is razor wire.

The crowd waited patiently, listening to a Marine band and jazz group from Hart High School, but stirred when the helicopters arrived. Cameras clicked and video cameras hummed.

The only ones not watching the helicopters were the Secret Service agents, who watched the crowd, and journalists, who just looked away. Reporters are accustomed to acting blase in the presence of power.

Perhaps they were bitter because, unlike invited guests, the reporters had to leave their cars at the front gate and were ferried up the hill in a Sheriff’s Department bus. It was, several joked, Sheriff Sherman Block’s dream come true: A jail bus full of reporters.

The reporters obligingly assumed the role of inmates, laughing as they shouted demands--”We want color television!”--or flashed gang signs. “Crips!” one shouted.

A deputy threatened to send in a SWAT unit. He was joking but it unclear by how much.

With all the laughing, it seemed that the bus was headed for a picnic, not an address by the commander in chief. As the bus passed the jail’s dairy farm, a television reporter cracked: “This is a rough place. They even put graffiti on the cows.”

At the administration building, Supervisor Mike Antonovich welcomed the crowd after the President’s helicopter landed behind the jail,near the doors where inmates enter. A minister then gave a brief invocation.

“Eternal God,” he began, “we have come to dedicate this North County Correctional Facility.”

He asked God’s blessing so the 2,064-inmate jail would become “a place to protect, broaden and sustain the historic laws of justice that are the foundation of our community.”

Bush, meanwhile, strolled past exhibits of “Weapons Made in Custody”--a collection of improvised knives confiscated from inmates--and a colorful guide to prison graffiti conveniently broken down by catagory: White, Black, Mexican, Stoner and Satanic.

“Thrash or Be Thrashed,” said one example in Stoner script. “Live Stoned, Die Stoned.”

Finally, the Marine band sounded “Hail to the Chief” and Bush emerged from the administration building and joined dignitaries on the podium. Public service, Antonovich said, is for people who love people. “Like our President, Sheriff Block loves people and people love Sheriff Block,” Antonovich said.

The Sheriff took the lectern and noted the trainees standing smartly at attention. “What a memorable day for these young men and women as they enter the ranks of law enforcement,” Block said.

Bush did not speak long. He called law enforcement officers unsung heroes, dubbed the maximum-security jail “Super Max” and called for the death penalty for anyone killing a law enforcement officer.

To the crowd’s surprise, Bush even mentioned the indictment of 10 deputies on various federal charges, including stealing $1.4 million in drug money, filing false tax returns and money laundering.

“Don’t let it get you down,” Bush said. Later, deputies said they appreciated the President’s words, although it stung to have the indictments mentioned at all.

“It’s kind of like going to the dentist,” said one commander. “When he pulls a tooth you don’t say ‘Thank You.’ But it feels better.”

“That’s good,” said a deputy. “We needed that.”

Barely 20 minutes after it began, the experience of a lifetime was over. Bush smiled, waved and disappeared into the jail as the crowd applauded.

After a lengthy pause, the crowd toured the jail and even ate lunch in the mess hall decorated with tablecloths and flowers.

Will they always have flowers?

Two deputies laughed at the question. “You better get a shot of that now,” a deputy advised.

Once the inmates arrive next week, it’s bye-bye posies.

And that was it. The experience of a lifetime was old hat for some officers who have guarded past presidential visits. But for rookies, and the public, it truly was something to remember.

Although his image is beamed into living rooms nearly every night, only a small percentage of Americans ever see the President in person. In a world desensitized by 30-second sound bites, it was reassuring to see that the President was, after all, a man.