Green is the new orange

Like most superintendents, Mitch Davidson’s days at Dinosaur Trails Golf Club are full.

In his third season as superintendent at the semi-private facility in Drumheller, Alberta, about an hour northeast of Calgary, Davidson has some dedicated people working alongside him. In addition to his assistant, a mechanic and a full-time crew that numbers as many as eight, Davidson can count on the help of inmates from the nearby Drumheller Institution, a medium-security correctional facility.

Two Drumheller inmates work on the golf course while a third spends his workday as a porter in the clubhouse. As many as 10 additional inmates are brought on board to assist with what Davidson calls “spring cleanup,” or when the golf course is being aerated.

The club pays the inmates $10 a day for their efforts.

“For us, it’s a huge benefit,” Davidson says, “because obviously we can save on our labor costs while still getting a lot of the little tasks done that sometimes can be missed because you don’t have enough bodies to do them. They’re doing a lot of the fine handwork. We have some gravel cart paths on the front nine so they’re fixing potholes in cart paths.

“Some of them have worked in the logging industry so they’re good with a chainsaw. So they’ll be pruning trees or helping with irrigation breaks. They’re really handy to have around for lots of projects and lots of day-to-day work."

The program is more than merely utilizing a cheap source of labor. It’s part of an effort by the Drumheller Institution and Correctional Service Canada to prepare inmates for life outside prison walls.

The inmate workers are transported to Dinosaur Trails by a prison guard and picked up at the end of the day. They provide their own work clothing such as boots and pack lunches.

The program was already in place when Davidson arrived at the club, but it’s been expanded. The inmates also prepare plants for the club’s flowerbeds.

“In January, I buy all the seed I need for growing flowers,” Davidson says. “I bring them the seed and get them a bail of potting soil. They grow all the flowers for me and get them to the point where they’re ready to be planted (generally in late May).

“I only pay for the seed and for a bit of potting soil. They do all the growing for me and bring (the flowers) down here. Some years they have actually planted them for me.”

Davidson actually visits the institution and interviews potential new hires himself. Most of the inmates involved in the program are serving time for non-violent offenses – but not all.

“A couple of these guys are murderers,” he says. “They’ve been in jail for 25 to 30 years. But for the most part, it’s drugs, theft, non-violent crimes.”

The inmate workers face few restrictions when working at the club. They may not use a telephone and are barred Internet access. Davidson is required to check on them once per hour. But for the most part, the inmate workers are treated the same way as any other member of Davidson’s crew.

“I have the exact same expectations for them that I do for the crew,” Davidson says. “They’re treated no differently. They wear our uniforms, they sit and eat lunch with the crew. Each week or every other week, I’ll take them into the clubhouse or the patio and I’ll buy them lunch just to say, ‘thank you,’ because $10 a day is not very much.”

And the inmates need that $10. Minimum-security inmates at Drumheller live in condominium-style accommodations. They cook for themselves and are responsible for buying their own food and personal items, which are purchased from a store located on institution grounds.

Security issues with the inmates have been virtually non-existent. In one instance a server in the clubhouse raised a concern; her husband was a corrections officer at Drumheller and did not want his wife working with any inmates. That request was accommodated.

But Davidson says the inmates have personal reasons for wanting to stay out of trouble.

“The guys that we utilize on our golf course are minimum-security guys,” he says. “They’re within usually six months of being released or going on parole. We haven’t had any issues with any of them because they’re so close to their release date that they don’t want to do anything wrong.

“For the most part, it usually isn’t an issue at all. Honestly, if you see them on the crew, you wouldn’t even know they were an inmate unless I told you. The members are aware of the program, but John Doe coming on the golf course probably wouldn’t have any idea.”

The program has produced some remarkable success stories. One of them is Ed (a pseudonym), a 55-year old who worked on Davidson’s crew last year while serving time at Drumheller for bank robbery.

“He had two kids that were just getting into their teen years,” Davidson says. “He was a great guy for us. He did a lot of pruning and always had a great attitude. He was well liked. He ended up getting out last fall.

“He’s doing well. He’s got a good job and is definitely getting back on his feet and is putting relationships back together with his kids. I really feel good for him.”

Davidson takes pains not to judge the inmates.

“Everybody makes mistakes,” he says. “A lot of them get put in circumstances and they make a bad decision. My thought is they’re in prison and they’re paying for their bad mistake. Everybody deserves to have that equal treatment until they show you otherwise.”

Rick Woelfel is a Willow Grove, Pa.–based writer and GCI contributor.