Computer Class Opens Doors for Prisoners : Technology: Inmates have cut costs and paper work for the state while gaining skills that can land them good jobs later.

Most are doing hard time for crimes such as manslaughter and rape, but for some inmates at Somers State Prison “hard time” means working with software.

Eight to 10 hours a day, seven days a week, inmates in the prison’s computer class can be found hunched in front of terminals, writing sophisticated programs that have saved the state thousands of dollars and piles of paper work.

They have automated virtually everything that can be automated at the prison, from school attendance records to pay schedules for the 1,400 inmates.

Their conversations are laced with terms like “dBASE,” “XT” and “PC.” They read all the computer literature they can get their hands on, write articles of their own about the field and share their expertise with other inmates.

“In prison it’s important to fill your day, and if you can fill it with something productive it’s all the better,” says Peter Schickler, 45, the only one of the 16 inmates in the program with extensive computer experience. “I’d say 80% of the people that come through will get a computer job, which, when you think about it, is a whole different world from what most people in prison are able to do.

“You’ll find with a programmer, he’s judged by how good a programmer he is and not by his personal background,” adds Schickler, who is serving 20 years for manslaughter.

The computer school at Somers was started in 1982. But under the tutelage of Department of Correction teacher Carl Gabbert, it has grown from a few small, unsophisticated computers to 15 IBM-compatible personal computers, all with the latest software. There’s a waiting list to get in.

“Nobody turns their life around until they’ve made a decision to,” says William E. Flower, a Department of Correction spokesman. “But once they’ve made a decision to turn their life around, then they need a vehicle. That’s what this program provides.”

A mainframe consultant before his 1984 conviction, Schickler could be “in the top one-hundredth of 1%” of the computer field in the United States, says Carey Prague, assistant director of corporate finance at Travelers Cos. and a volunteer adviser to the program.

For 25-year-old Douglas Lavigne, computers have meant a focus, an eventual career and a source of pride that he never had when he was free.

At 17, Lavigne was sentenced to 20 years for manslaughter in a drug-related shooting and stabbing when he was still a high school senior. While his classmates went off to college, Lavigne went to prison.

The Parole Board recently reduced Lavigne’s sentence to 18 years, which means a possible release within a few years. Lavigne is hoping for college and a computer career.

“I’m young enough. I got a second chance and I took advantage of it,” the soft-spoken Lavigne said as he demonstrated a class-devised program that tracks health records at another prison.

“I got more hours on a computer than anybody else my age--that’s for sure. I can compete. I just got to get the old formal education and then I’m all set.”

William “Toby” Wright, who had a 10th-grade education and worked for a dry cleaner and carpenter before he was convicted of manslaughter eight years ago, landed an interview as a programmer at Aetna Life & Casualty when he became eligible for parole recently. Parole was denied so it never went any further, but Prague said Wright and the others will have no problem finding lucrative jobs.

In fact, Prague, the author of 23 books on computers and a consultant for Ashton-Tate Co., says some of the inmates--Schickler and Lavigne in particular--are so good they could easily make annual salaries that top $100,000.

Prague thought he would volunteer as a teacher, but, “I found they knew more than I did.” Now he advises them on their futures.

Most of the schoolwork has gone to computerize various aspects of the prison, but Gabbert’s class has also done work for the outside. The class recently signed on as a test site for Ashton-Tate, testing the software giant’s newest products. It is ideally suited because the work is rigorous and time-consuming.

When correction officials decided in 1988 that the prison’s pharmacy system was obsolete, they turned to the computer class.

Computer vendors had told the department that the equipment to make the pharmacy efficient would cost up to $60,000 or more. The inmates were able to do it for $13,500, and they trained the staff to use the low-cost system without outside help. The computer processes 300 prescriptions a day, produces labels, tracks medical histories and maintains an inventory of 1,200 drugs, serving two other institutions.

All is not trust. The class instructor watches out for mischief as well.

For the computer whizzes at Somers, money is clearly not the draw. The most they can make in prison is $1.40 a day.

“The word I keep going back to is ‘self esteem,’ ” Schickler says. “The whole reason that we’re in here is to pay a debt, you might say. I kind of feel good when one of the guys, someone who has never touched a computer before, gets a job or a letter of commendation. Knowing that I was a part of it gives me a lot of satisfaction.”

For Lavigne, computers may be the way he can restore the faith he believes his family lost in him eight years ago.

“I put them through hell and back again, and I have to try to do some making up there,” he says. “They stuck by me through this whole thing, so hopefully they’ll be proud of me some day.”