Beyond Prisons:
- Ex-Convicts’ Self-Help to Break the Prison Cycle
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Delancey Street resident Saul Valencia at work in the kitchen.
Photo by Lane Hartwell
Ex-Convicts’ Self-Help to Break the Prison Cycle
Ex-cons show each other the way out at San Franciscoâs Delancey Street.
In early May 1995, Margie Lewis sat on a bench at the Delancey Street Foundation, a residential education center for addicts and ex-convicts in San Francisco, awaiting intake. Until that moment, her life had been defined by institutionsâteenage years in the California Youth Authority and long stays in jail as an adult. Enrollment in the program was her last chanceâher only alternative to the life sentence that would otherwise be mandated by the stateâs new âThree Strikes and Youâre Outâ law.
Lewis was filled with optimism. At Delancey, she saw no paid professional social workers, no guards, and little bureaucracy. Instead, the place was run by dozens of people like her, who had been in and out of prison and came here to recover. âI was nervous and excited, sitting there,â said Lewis. âI felt like there was a possibility things could be different this time.â
In San Francisco, Delancey Street, now celebrating its 40th year, has quietly built a model program that has kept thousands of addicts and ex-offenders from landing back in prison. It isnât just a treatment programâitâs an all-hands-on-deck community that recognizes that everyone, even an addict or ex-convict, has a skill to offer others. At Delancey Street, you donât just go through treatment; you are put to work helping those around you rebuild their lives.

Before entering the Delancey Street program Margie Lewis was facing a “three strikes” life sentence. Photo by Lane Hartwell.
Lewis, who had only completed her G.E.D. a few months earlier while in county jail, was tasked with teaching others how to do the same. Former addicts also help their peers kick their addictions. Recovery sessions happen in groups, led by people in recovery themselves. âYou hear about yourself from people who know you,â said Lewis. âThey are your mirrors. Your peers understand the things in your life you have tried to forget through drug use.â
Residents also learn at least three marketable job skills through Delanceyâs business enterprisesârun by ex-offenders. They work at one of many ventures such as the on-site restaurant, the moving company, the Christmas tree sales lot, the landscape business, or the digital print shop. The enterprises supply roughly 60 percent of Delanceyâs funding.
Breaking the Prison Cycle
California is second only to Texas in the number of people in its prisons, according to the Pew Center on the States. The state experienced a prison construction boom after decades of laws that lengthened sentencesâeven for nonviolent crimes. A report by the California Legislative Analystâs Office shows that, in its first decade, Three Strikes flooded more than 80,000 new inmates into the prison system, many for petty drug possession.
At the end of most sentences is a revolving door that leads back to prison. The formerly incarcerated return to the outside with few of the resources they need to surviveâno job, no place to live, and no support network. About two-thirds of those released from the California prison system return there within three years. The cost of maintaining a bloated prison system has drained the state budget. California expects to spend $9 billion on corrections in its 2011-2012 budget, and has had to wrestle with a deficit of more than $25 billion by cutting health care and social services. The human costs of a correction system that tears apart families and communities are even greater.
In contrast, Delancey started as a tiny economic investment that produces giant returnsâin the form of recovered ex-addicts and ex-felons who become healthy, contributing members of a community. Delanceyâs founder, Mimi Silbert, grew up in a poor community on the Lower East Side of New York, the daughter of European Jews. âAs the years went by, I began to see people who didnât get out of the ghetto, and who by a hair turn, ended up in prison,â she said in an interview with Southern California Woman Magazine.
Silbert, who holds dual doctorates in criminology and psychology from UC-Berkeley, teamed with John Maher, a former addict from the South Bronx. In 1972, the year after President Nixon declared the âWar on Drugs,â the two drew from their family backgrounds, naming their project after a New York street known as the starting point for new immigrants. Delancey Street began with a thousand-dollar loan and has since charted a new path in addiction treatmentâchallenging drug abusers and offenders to take maximum personal responsibility within the context of a community of support and mutual aid.

James Ludwig left and Leland Stanful work in the Delancey Street auto shop. Program participants learn vocational skills at business ventures run by residents. Photo by Lane Hartwell.
Delancey Street opened its first home in the former Russian Consulate building in San Francisco. Its main headquarters is now in a four-story complex on the waterfront in the cityâs South Beach neighborhood, with housing and retail businesses, including a restaurant, outdoor cafĂ©, and bookstore. By the mid-1990s, the organization had opened branches in Los Angeles, Calif.; San Juan Pueblo, N.M.; Greensboro, N.C.; and Brewster, N.Y. In 2007, Delancey began renovations on Norman Rockwellâs historic home in Stockbridge, Mass., and now runs a treatment program there. Each branch shares the same basic model but offers training to match the local economy. In rural New Mexico, residents can learn wastewater treatment and livestock management. In Stockbridge, they can learn stagecraft and study the performing arts.
Most importantly, Delanceyâs residents learn, often for the first time, that they have value and can make and do things that are of value to others. And Delanceyâs approach to treatment confirms that compassion and respect can be more fiscally sound than the dehumanization and punishment that happens in the prison system.
Delancey Streetâs success has turned heads and won respect from experts and leaders all over the world. Former President Bill Clinton sent his drug czar to San Francisco to consult with Silbert. Its board of governors includes influentials such as former Secretary of State George Shultz and Senator Diane Feinstein. Delancey has trained people in 450 cities in 48 states and 25 countries and is helping groups in South Africa and Singapore launch similar treatment programs. It has worked with the California Department of Corrections on policy changes to help keep parolees out of prison and in community service programs and helped San Francisco write a master plan to reduce crime among youth. It has also started a program inside San Mateo Countyâs jail based on the Delancey Street âeach one teach oneâ philosophy. And a number of Delancey Street graduates have started their own treatment programs based on the model they lived and worked in for years.
In Service to Each Other
You donât have to have a past like Lewisâ to get into Delancey. You can just show up for lunch. Delancey owns and operates a renowned waterfront restaurant at its South Beach location.
The expansive American-themed menu changes daily and features items chosen by Delanceyâs staffâsuch as spit-roasted chicken, chorizo omelettes, and Latin scallop ceviche.
An impeccably groomed maĂźtre dâ greets my girlfriend and me, his tattoo peeking up over his collar. Looking around the room, I notice members of the cityâs political elite seated near a mother with three small children, and next to her, a group of electrical workers on lunch break.
All receive the same respect from the waitersâwho seem just a little nervous, like actors on opening night of a play. The food rivals anything offered farther up the Embarcadero at the foodie bistros and take-out carts. Our waiter returns several times to confirm that my ahi tuna sandwich is cooked perfectly.
Delancey’s residents learn, often for the first time, that they have value and can make and do things that are of value to others.
No one at Delancey Street, whether a dishwasher or the executive director, receives a wage. Instead, they receive housing, treatment, and food. All money generated from Delancey Streetâs enterprises is returned to keep the program running without government funding. At first this took resident Sean Cronk by surprise. âI asked âWho is going to control us?â In prison, I was used to having guards make all of my life decisions for me!â Instead, he answers to peers, ex-offenders like himself.
Delancey has graduated more than 18,000 peopleâbringing them, as they see it, out of âAmericaâs underclass into society as … citizens living decent, legitimate, and productive lives.â More than 10,000 of them arrived illiterate and have gone on to receive high-school equivalency degrees. Delanceyâs alumni go on to a wide range of careersâsuch as firefighter, carpenter, and graphic designer. The organization relies on its graduates to come back, counsel, volunteer, and train the new arrivals. âAt Delancey, weâre responsible for each other. Weâre based on the idea of family and community. Weâre not really a business, institution, or even a program,â said resident Brett Crawford.
After graduating from Delancey, Margie Lewis founded a nonprofit called Into the Solution, based in Oakland, Calif. The group helps formerly incarcerated people find affordable housing. âItâs what you learn at Delancey. You have to give back what you have been given. Itâs a lifelong commitment for me to help people who are in the same situation I was in not so long ago.â