CLALLAM BAY — Matt Butler started both of his midday concerts at Clallam Bay Corrections Center by telling the incarcerated concertgoers that was scared. He’s always scared before playing these shows, he said.
Butler stood in front of a group of 23 gang dropouts, separated from the general population for their protection, in a unit called the Safe Harbor.
Most of the gang presence at Clallam Bay Corrections Center (CBCC) are the Sureños and white supremacists gangs like the Aryan Nation, Administrative Assistant Clayton Pearson said.
“I feel silly for thinking that I can come in here with a guitar and make some kind of difference for somebody,” Butler said.
Butler was interrupted by a spattering of voices.
“Don’t feel that way,” one attendee said.
“Be proud of who you are, man,” added an inmate named Joey. “Music inspires everyone across the world. You’re taking me out of prison for a bit.”
The state Department of Corrections requested the Peninsula Daily News only print the first names of inmates included in this story.
Butler said not every audience is so reassuring.
“The thing that helps me get through that fear is that, if there is just one person in here that gets something out of this gig, if there is just one person that connects with this, feels seen, feels just a little less alone, this is worth it,” he said.
As he spoke, Butler started strumming a four-chord progression on his sunburst Gibson acoustic guitar.
“I grew up in a quiet town, most folks don’t want to stick around …” Butler sang as his concert began. “… When I turned 16, I dropped out … I started selling pills to pay my rent… Till I got busted in some parking lot, cop said guys like me either die or get caught, he looked in me in the eye and he said, ‘Son, it’s time to be a man.’”
Butler’s one-man show, Reckless Son, is nine monologues leading into nine songs, all inspired by experiences playing in prisons and jails across the United States.
The songs are inspired by stories that incarcerated persons have shared with him during his shows.
He’s been playing shows like this for almost nine years — hundreds of shows in 54 facilities, he said.
Butler’s first concert in prison was for a sheriff’s heroin addiction recovery program in the Albany County Jail in New York.
He said the experience changed him.
He hadn’t experienced such an attentive audience up to that point.
Butler played concerts at the prison in Clallam Bay as a part of his weeklong residence with Field Arts & Events Hall in Port Angeles. He will play at Field Hall, 201 W. Front St., tonight at 7 p.m.
Tickets can be purchased at https://fieldhall.ludus.com/index.php?show_id=200466812&ref=mattbutler.
On Thursday, Butler played two shows at the prison, one in Safe Harbor and one for the general population in the visiting room.
Butler and his wife are moving to Bainbridge Island, but he currently lives in and was born and raised in Lower Manhattan in New York.
Growing up, Butler was obsessed with punk music, bands like Fugazi and The Clash.
He was an angry kid. He struggled with substance use.
“Before I started drinking and getting high, which I think actually saved my life as a kid because I think I would have jumped out of a window, I was in so much pain,” Butler told the audience. “I used to sit in my bedroom and stamp cigarettes out on my arms. I used to punch holes in walls. There were these holes all over the drywall in my bedroom. I used to break glass and cut myself with it.”
Butler lifted up his sleeves and said the cuts are still visible today.
As serious as much of the subject matter was, Butler fit jokes into his show and got a lot of laughs.
Many of the incarcerated people who came to see Butler perform said they related to his stories. After his 30-minute performances, Butler sat down, the attendees asked questions and shared their reactions.
Butler’s song “Good Friday” is sung from the perspective of a young houseless character struggling with substance abuse. In the chorus, he requests that his mother let him in to take a shower, to clean his clothes and to wash away his sins.
A number of prisoners, including Floydale “Flo” and Joey, who attended the Safe Harbor show, said the song resonated with them.
Flo said his mom, sister and his sister in-law all died in the last three years. His aunt died three days before the concert, he said.
“In the last three years, I’ve experienced some of the closest people to me pass away,” Flo said. “Before, I didn’t know how to receive that information. When I received the information about my mom, I went down the darkest path that I probably have been down the whole 12 years I’ve been in prison. I wanted to go out the same way she went out.”
Flo said his mom died of a drug overdose from fentanyl. Flo went from minimum custody to closed custody within the span of a week because of drugs, he said.
Before she died, Flo said getting out to see her and his sister was a guiding motivation. He was pursuing a college education because she wanted that for him, he said.
Flo said he didn’t see the point of continuing on a path to positive if his family wouldn’t be a part of it.
“Wanting to correct mistakes is being fueled by people like you,” Flo said. “Stories like this and interactions like this and being around energy like this is what makes somebody want to change and continue that journey. From me to you, I appreciate everything you did today. The song about your mom did remind me of things that I went through when I was out there and I was doing those things.”
Flo said he’s further fueled by his newly improved relationship with his dad, who got out of prison a few years ago.
CBCC is the highest-security prison in Washington state, Associate Superintendent Julie Smith said.
The facility has several towers with armed gunmen, it’s surrounded by razor wire, there are two gates and five sliding doors one passes through to get out, Pearson said.
“We house medium, close and maximum custody offenders,” Smith said.
Currently, the prison holds 625 incarcerated persons, 48 in maximum custody and 39 in administrative segregation, Smith said.
The prison has four close-custody units, three of which are currently open. The prison also has an administrative segregation unit and a maximum-custody unit, Smith said.
Administrative segregation holds individuals who may have been involved in an altercation, as staff investigate their involvement and whether they are safe to return to the general population, Smith said. Kind of like a timeout, she added.
“We have the most violent incidents out of all the facilities here in Washington,” Pearson said. “That’s mostly because there are only two close-custody facilities: us and (Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla). We have people that act out, creating problems in the facility. One of the things you do is you try to disrupt them. You do that by moving them to another facility, but there’s only two of us that can handle people at this level. We just kind of bounce people back every once in a while.”
Smith said CBCC currently employs 394 people.
Staff assaults are pretty rare, happening two or three times a year, Pearson said.
Violence among the population is less rare, but Pearson said much of the violence is planned to take place in front of guards so it can be broken up before it elevates.
Several of the incarcerated people at the shows said they want more music in the prison, including somewhere to play music themselves.
“This place, they got a lot of open space, and we don’t have no music room,” said Bernard, an artist and a resident of the Safe Harbor unit.
CBCC used to have a music program, but funding was cut years ago, Smith said. The program is planned to return soon, she added. A recreation lead recently purchased drums, guitars, basses and keyboards from Peninsula Music in Port Angeles, she said.
Butler’s music as well as videos of prison concerts can be found on his website at https://mattbutlersongs.com/home.
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Reporter Elijah Sussman can be reached by email at elijah.sussman@sequimgazette.com.
