Popular Woodworking 2000-04 № 114, страница 27

Popular Woodworking 2000-04 № 114, страница 27

prison prohibited items that were toxic or flammable. "For the most part I used an acrylic floor sealer they use here at the prison," Baze writes. "It did a fair job."

Joints

You might think that cutting a mortise-and-tenon joint is a real pain with limited tools. It's not. Baze and other woodworkers on Death Row used their laminations to their advantage. Say he was building a stile that needed three layers of wood to be the correct thickness and it needed a mortise in the middle. Baze would merely leave out part of the middle layer of wood in the place where the mortise was supposed to go. To make a tenon, Baze would merely make the middle layer longer. Instant tenon. Half-lap, bridle and rabbet joints were all made this way.

The Projects

Some of the work produced on Death Row is amazing considering how few tools the makers had. Baze sent us a full-sized humidor (6V2" x 91/2" x 12") he'd built with an eagle inlaid into the top.

"Of course, some of the guys here say it's more like a pigeon when (they're) teasing me," Baze says.

Baze spent about 50 hours doing the inlay using more than 400 pieces of wood (each feather is four pieces). Baze also built clocks, jewelry boxes, a Pennsylvania spice box and replicas of cars.

Some projects he would give away to friends. Others he would sell through organizations opposed to the death penalty.

The End ofWoodworking

Baze's years of woodworking came to a quick end in July 1998, according to Warden Parker. Prison officials received a tip that a prison break was in the works, so they searched the cells and ended the pris oners' privilege of owning tools and materials. Baze was sent to an isolation cell.

"We found knives and some escape materials, including an

abundance of hair to make a wig or dummy," Parker says. "They could say it was for

arts and crafts, but we had a tip that it was for an escape attempt. I was left in no position but to eliminate (woodworking)."

Baze, of course, was disappointed.

"Last Friday they came through in a shakedown and took most of my tools," Baze writes. "After four years of use they are now considered dangerous contraband. Every one from the warden down knew I had them. However, as I've told you in the past, according to the written rules they are (contraband)."

Sprung From the Joint

After we leave Death Row we cross the prison yard in the center of the penitentiary that's filled with inmates milling about. It looks a lot like a schoolyard — if you ignore the inmates who are tattooed on every part of their body and the lone

In addition to woodworking, some inmates produced sculpture out of toilet tissue, such as this mascot

Ni for e Un'versity °f Kentucky. ■ ■*■

Some of the projects built by inmates at the Kentucky State Penitentiary (top). A V12-scale replica of a 1931 Cadillac that Baze built in his cell."It may not look like much, but I put well over 200 hours into it""according to Baze (above).

crossdresser who saunters slowly by.

We leave the yard and enter the administrative offices of the prison. As the cell door slams behind we let out a heavy sigh. It's like we've been underwater for an hour.

We go to a small office where prison officials have brought some of the inmates' projects for us to photograph, including sculptures made from toilet paper. The detail work is amazing, especially one deer that looks like it could blink and scamper away through the offices at any moment.

It's hard to believe that men who can make your gut tie in a knot when they look at you could produce these things. And as I look square into the eyes of a sculpture of a mutant University of Kentucky wildcat

— complete with tiny UK logos on the pupils

— I realize that inside and out, this a place filled with both beauty and dread. PW

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