Ashe over his 42 years on the job was called by some the most innovative county sheriff in the country. Watch video
"Can we afford to experiment? Can we afford to take a chance on a social worker?" -- Hampden County sheriff candidate Daniel J. O'Brien, quoted in The Springfield Union, Oct. 30, 1974.
SPRINGFIELD -- Sheriff Michael J. Ashe Jr. held the 42-year-old newspaper clipping and smiled.
Then the smile became a laugh.
"I remember it like it was yesterday," he said. "I remember Dan O'Brien very well."
In the clip, a brief political article that appeared just days before the 1974 election, O'Brien, the Republican candidate for Hampden County sheriff, questions the ability of his Democratic opponent, an inexperienced, relatively unknown fellow by the name of Michael J. Ashe.
O'Brien, a former state trooper, takes a few shots at Ashe's background and wonders aloud if his opponent, a social worker at Downey Side, an adoption agency for children in foster care, knows anything about running a jail.
"Think about it. A jail is not a commune. A jail is not a halfway house," the article quotes O'Brien as saying. "Social workers have their place, but not at the Hampden County Jail."
The article concludes with O'Brien saying that anyone who wants "murderers, rapists, bank robbers and kidnappers" back on the streets should vote for Ashe.
"This is fantastic," Ashe said, looking at the article. "No place for social work?"
Ashe got the last laugh that election day -- the first of six times he would win a six-year term as Hampden County sheriff.
As he prepares to step down, Ashe, 77, said he feels the Sheriff's Department is in good hands with his successor, Nick Cocchi. Although, he said, there was a brief time during the campaign where he seriously thought of changing his mind and running again.
"No question. Yeah, I had some second thoughts," he said. "There was a thought on my part, if you will, of staying on."
Early on, he said he would not make an endorsement for his successor. But in watching Cocchi over the course of the campaign, he said he grew to see his longtime assistant sheriff was a worthy successor and backed his candidacy.
"As Nick Cocchi grew and developed, I could see that he was the man, and also that he had surrounded himself with some good people," Ashe said. "So, if you will, I invested heavily into his candidacy after great thought."
With his time as sheriff winding down, Ashe sat down recently with The Republican to discuss his tenure, the reshaping of focus of the county jail from incarceration to corrections, and expanding the role of the Sheriff's Department.
"I'd like to feel that, in my 42 years, we demonstrated that corrections is the right way to go," he said. "Just locking people up was not the right course of action."
For Ashe, right from the very beginning, the vision was clear. The jail should not be an incarceration facility that simply "warehoused people," but a correctional facility that prepared inmates for the day when they would be released.
"It was that feeling of being a pioneer, that feeling that we were making a difference. We were changing how corrections was done," he said.
"When I look back, what we were doing was common sense," he said.
In his time as sheriff, Ashe has instituted several programs that were considered radical at the time. For some jurisdictions across the country, they are radical still.
Among the programs launched under Ashe's tenure:
- After taking office in 1975, he began talking with local employers about giving former inmates a chance with entry-level jobs.
- By 1976, he had put in place a vocational training program that gave inmates skills they could use to find jobs upon release.
- In-house education programs in place by 1979, allowing inmates who were high school dropouts to earn equivalency diplomas.
- In 1984, Ashe launched a minimum-security treatment facility in Springfield's South End for inmates sentenced for nonviolent alcohol-related offenses. The Western Massachusetts Correctional Alcohol Center would expand to also treat those with drug problems. Now called the Western Massachusetts Recovery and Wellness Center, recent figures show it has treated more than 17,000 people.
- In 1986, he launched the Day Reporting Program that allows low-risk, nonviolent offenders nearing the end of their sentences to go to their own homes at night and report to the jail each morning for services. It has been replicated across the county.
- In 1993, he launched the Community Service Restitution program. Through this year, more than 34,000 inmates have performed more than 1 million hours of community service.
- In 1996, he launched the After Incarceration Support Systems program, which aids recently released inmates in finding housing, jobs and counseling services.
Ashe points with pride to the Hampden County Correctional Center's numbers on recidivism as evidence that he must have done something right.
Recidivism is a measure of how many inmates are released and then sentenced for new crimes. The more repeat offenders a facility has, the higher its recidivism rate.
Despite having one of the larger inmate populations, Hampden County had the second-lowest recidivism rate in Massachusetts between 2012 and 2014, at 29 percent, based on data from the state state Department of Corrections. Norfolk County was first at 25 percent. The state average is 32 percent.
One measure of the long-term impact of a low recidivism rate has been the county's jail population at the Ludlow men's facility and the women's facility in Chicopee. From 2007 to 2016, the combined population is down by 36 percent, from 2,245 to 1,431.
The length of Ashe's career and the programs he has enacted give him no shortage of fans.
"Looking back at the work he has done, he was really a pioneer," said Hampden District Attorney Anthony Gulluni.
He credits Ashe with being at the forefront in recognizing the connection between crime and mental health and substance abuse issues.
"Well before it became en vogue he was treating people with substance issues, treating it like it was a medical disorder, before many people understood it was a disorder," Gulluni said.
Gulluni said he regularly speaks with other prosecutors, sheriffs and law enforcement officials from across the state. It was during one of these conversations recently that it occurred to him that not every jail in Massachusetts is run the same way as in Hampden County.
"There are houses of correction that are jails, and where inmates are housed, not rehabilitated," he said.
Springfield Mayor Domenic Sarno called Ashe "the godfather of progressive community corrections."
Sarno first encountered Ashe's work up close a dozen years ago when, as director of the South End Community Center, he came in contact with work crews from the correctional alcohol center.
Sarno estimates Ashe's Community Restitution Program has over the years saved the city millions of dollars, all while preparing thousands of inmates to be productive members of society.
"He realized that a huge percentage of people who are incarcerated are going to come back out into the community," Sarno said. "He didn't have them sitting around. It was community service, workforce skills, education. Do you know how many thousands of GEDs came out of there?"
In appreciation, Sarno bestowed the ceremonial key to the city upon Ashe at an appreciation luncheon in December.
John Larivee, president and CEO of Community Resources for Justice, a Boston nonprofit focused on criminal justice and corrections issues, said Ashe has repeatedly demonstrated that he is one of the most innovative sheriffs in the nation.
"He was always willing to take on new challenges and do it with respect for public safety, the staff and the (inmates)," Larivee said. "Michael Ashe as sheriff has done these great things and done them very well."
The organization in 2011 awarded Ashe its Community Hero Award. In 2014, when he was selected by the White House for the Champion of Change award, Community Resources for Justice nominated him.
Political consultant Tony Cignoli, who has worked with Ashe on campaigns, said there are few politicians -- both in Western Massachusetts and nationally -- that he puts in the same category as the sheriff.
"His name recognition is in the high 90s, his favorability is in the high 80s," Cignoli said. "That is impossible in this day and age."
Cignoli said he has walked with Ashe through the Ludlow jail and been stunned that the sheriff walked without a security escort. Inmates would walk up to Ashe to give him reports on their progress. And Ashe would call them by name, pat them on the back and offer encouragement.
It seemed less like the relationship between jailer and jailed than like that between a revered football coach and his players, Cignoli said.
During the recent campaign when he was out with Cocchi staff, Cignoli said people would come up, volunteer that they were former inmates, and ask if they could let Ashe know that they had jobs and were staying out of trouble.
"It's like they were a proud alumni," he said.
Ashe talks about wanting to "challenge" inmates, in the sense of encouraging them to improve themselves through education, job training and counseling. But a lot of it is about restoring pride. He said someone being sentenced to jail is likely feeling pretty low. They've lost their job, shamed their family, and had their freedom taken away.
Inmates arriving at the jail go through an orientation program where it is laid out in no uncertain terms what is expected of them. They are required to take part in specific programs. They have a schedule and they will follow it. There are no sick days or vacation days, he said.
"An inmate may wish to sit around in his cell all day but it's not going to happen," Ashe said. "Not at our place. The programs go off on time."
He also staffed the jails with corrections officers who were dedicated, professionally trained and no-nonsense in their approach. If there were new and strict rules for the inmates to follow, there were also new and strict rules for the jail staff, too. "Excellence" and "accountability," two of Ashe's favorite words, applied equally to inmates and corrections staff, he said.
"We were showing respect to people, we valued people. These were people from our streets and neighborhoods, these were people who were coming back to our streets and neighborhoods. Let's see if we can provide an opportunity, bring hope and excellence," he said. "But let's challenge them!"
For two decades, the jail has had a reunion for former inmates. It was the first and remains one of the few jails with such a program.
On the surface, a jail reunion seems counterintuitive. Wouldn't someone just released from jail want to get as far away from the front gate as possible?
Who would attend? The answer, it seems, is a lot of people. In recent years, the reunion has attracted as many as 400 former inmates and their families.
"We're proud of that. It started with 20 people in Forest Park," Ashe said.
The reunion fits in with the larger philosophy of giving inmates the tools to succeed after they are released. The reunion, Ashe said, is a celebration of their transition from inmates to law-abiding citizens.
"They could see the enormous investment we made in them and are coming back as a way to show respect," he said.
The reunions, like the after-care program, are outside of what the traditional role of a jail has been. Strictly speaking, the job of a sheriff is to hold onto people the courts say to hold onto, and release people the courts say to release. The sheriff's responsibility toward that person ends once they walk out the front door.
Ashe said he disagrees with that view. If the jail can offer programs that help someone find a job or a place to live, or to stay off drugs, that former offender stands a better chance of not becoming a repeat offender.
"The safe thing would have been to keep them under lock and key and then discharge them when their time is up," he said. "But I never did that."
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