Justice Advocate Robert Gangi ends 29-year career with the Correctional Association of New York to focus on NYPD arrest practices
By Kamilah Black
Robert Gangi addresses his former colleagues, friends and family at the Museum of New York City, March 10, 2011.
As a young man growing up in Brooklyn in the 1950s, Robert Gangi never knew he would spend so much time inside some of New York’s toughest prisons. Gangi, 67, is not a repeat criminal offender. In fact, he is quite the opposite. In 1982, Gangi signed onto the Correctional Association of New York, the only statewide non-profit organization to be granted access to jails in New York.
The Correctional Association was originally established in 1844 by a group of concerned New Yorkers who wanted better monitoring of the prison system in their state. Their job was to go into prisons, inspect the conditions and report their findings to legislatures, the press and the public. Gangi, who served as Executive Director for his entire tenure with the organization, used his leadership role to spread the C.A.’s vision, to “establish a criminal justice system that holds a person accountable for a crime yet does not condemn an entire life based on a person’s worst act.” While most people do everything in their power to never see the inside of these jails, Gangi made a career of visiting these places and studying what he found.
Gangi and his colleagues observed deplorable conditions in multiple detention facilities. He noted that extreme overcrowding, broken toilets and sinks, non-existent medical care, inadequate and often missed meals were the norm. There were lengthy periods (sometimes more than 72 hours) that a person could disappear into the pre-arraignment system without even the ability to make a phone call. Given a unique opportunity to see these places first hand, Gangi used what he saw behind prison walls to incite change in a correctional system he found to be insufficient, inhumane and blatantly racially biased.
http://youtu.be/Ft2mEOHCt3o
It takes a certain type of person to devote their life to fighting for justice and equality, especially in a non-profit arena in which salaries are not always commiserate with the work being done. In deciding to devote himself to this line of work, Gangi made the sacrifice:
“I decided if at all possible I wanted to make money by having jobs that promoted social and racial justice,” said Gangi. “I was never interested in making money just to make money. I always felt that what was more important than material success was how you felt about yourself as a person. I could value myself because I thought that I was an honorable person who acted with integrity. I prefer to have a lot of money, but more important than that was if I felt good about myself,” he said. “That’s how I think about how I became the person that I am and perhaps the kind of leader I’ve become.”
Gangi’s colleagues and associates commonly referred to him as the “moral-center” of the Correctional Association. Gangi felt from a very young age that he had an innate drive to “do what is right.” He attended his 50th high school reunion recently, and along with an old friend and classmate, he recounted a story from his adolescence that proves this point exactly:
“In high school, our French teacher gave us a surprise quiz one day and he must have left the room because the class began to express the view that they thought the test was unfair, and that they were not going to put their names on their papers. I was the one exception. I said to my classmates ‘You know guys, I feel I have to put my name on the paper. I feel that I gotta take my medicine and however it turns out, it turns out,’” said Gangi. “At the reunion, we relived the story, and I asked my old classmate, ‘Weren’t you guys pissed off at me for taking that stance?’ He said, ‘No, we understood you even then.’”
The racially biased arrest practices of the NYPD are on Gangi’s moral radar. In New York City in 2009, the police conducted “stop and frisk” searches for a record 575,304 individuals, according to the New York Civil Liberties Union. Of these almost 580,000 people, 504,594 were found to be totally innocent, were not charged with formal crimes and were released in a short period of time (75 percent of arrested people in NYC are released at arraignment; of those locked up in the City’s jails, 25 percent are released within three days, 50 percent within a week, and 65 percent within two weeks, also according to the Civil Liberties Union. Of the 575,304 people that were stopped and frisked in 2009, a staggering 308,941, 54 percent were black. A lesser number, 179,576, 31 percent were Latino. Though New York City is almost half-comprised of “white” people, just 9 percent (53,466 people) that were stopped and frisked were white —the Census Bureau reported the demographics and the Civil Liberties Union compared the blatantly unequal statistics.
“Court pens hold individuals who have been stopped by police, arrested, fingerprinted, booked and processed and are waiting to see the judge,” he said, adding that in entering these pens, one thing is glaringly obvious.
“On our trips to the Brooklyn, Manhattan and Bronx pens, we usually see only one or two white faces behind the bars in the midst of cell after cell of black and brown people,” said Gangi. The facts support his observations.
In his 30 years of experience, Gangi notes that it has “always been this way.” “This racial disparity is not merely disproportionate, but virtually exclusive, and it is not an accident,” he says.
Khari Lazarre White, Brotherhood/Sister Sol Voices III Fundraiser
Khari Lazarre-White is the Executive Director and co-founder of Brotherhood/Sister-Sol Inc., an organization that provides services for children and adolescents in New York City. He is an advocate for the repeal of the NYPD’s stop and frisk policy. Click below for his comments.
As his time with the Correctional Association drew to an end, the organization honored Gangi at a party on March 11 at the Museum of New York City. The invitation, sent by email to his colleagues, fellow advocates, legislatures, friends and family read:
“We hope you will join us as we honor Bob
for his lifelong dedication to social and racial equality;
for his tireless advocacy for a justice system that affirms the inherent dignity of each individual; and
for fighting the good fight with compassion, humor, and unwavering integrity.”
The party, originally scheduled for two hours, ran well into the evening as Gangi’s former associates took the opportunity to speak about not only his accomplishments but his character. As glasses were raised to honor Gangi, it was apparent that it takes a particular type of person to pursue a career in criminal justice advocacy. To those who worked with him, Gangi was a perfect fit for the job.
“It takes strong people such as yourself (Gangi) to make a real impact. You have made an impact and your legacy is seen across New York State,” said Kori Scott of the Correctional Association.
Pastor Peter R. Scott from Kingdom Tabernacles in Brooklyn said: “It is an honor to be a part of an organization that represents people who cannot help themselves. Your leadership has shaped the organization to be as effective as it is. You will be missed.”
“(Bob) is the person who led me to change my life, find my voice and become the advocate I am today. He has inspired me to do so much to help not only change the way the criminal justice system affects my life, my family and my community, but to give back to those closely affected. Your work will continue to be a part of my life,” said Anisah Thompson, also of the Correctional Association.
Leo Morris, another of Gangi’s former colleagues thanked him for being “a tireless, vigilant and accountable leader for the cause of repealing the Rockefeller Drug Laws. Deacon Ken Radcliffe, coordinator of the ISIAH project called Gangi “the man for all seasons in the justice movement.”
Though this is a retirement of sorts from the Correctional Association, Gangi vows to continue his work in the justice field and narrow his focus to the issue of the racial bias in police arrest practices in New York, based on his years of experience inside the court pens. He is now the Senior Policy Advocate at Manhattan’s Urban Justice Center located at 123 William Street.
