(3 of 11)
Many of the demands that emerged in the Attica rebellion were first raised in July in a tough "manifesto" sent to Oswald and Rockefeller by a group of inmates called "the Attica Liberation Faction." The paper labeled Attica a "classic institution of authoritative inhumanity upon men," but added: "We are trying to do this in a democratic fashion. We feel there is no need to dramatize our demands."
But what, more immediately, sparked the riot? It could have been the rumor of brutality that swept the prison on Sept. 8, after a young guard reportedly tackled an inmate who refused to leave his cell for a disciplinary hearing on charges of punching another guard. Or it could have been a mess-hall incident the same day in which two prisoners threw a piece of glass at a guard and, after the ensuing scuffle, were sent to the box; both claimed they had been beaten. Some prison officials are convinced that the revolt was planned; they found the date Sept. 9 "circled big" on calendars in some cells.
Whatever the reason, violence did erupt on the morning of Sept. 9 at about 8:30, when a group of inmates refused to line up at the rap of guards' clubs for a work detail. Suddenly the guards, armed only with their clubs, were fighting with inmates—and were completely outnumbered. At the time well under 100 guards were on duty in the 55-acre compound to supervise the 2,250 prisoners. Moving swiftly, the convicts rushed through three of the quadrangular cell blocks (see cut) and set fires in six buildings. The chapel, prison school and machine shop were completely gutted. Quickly producing knives, pipes, baseball bats and makeshift spears fashioned from scissor blades and broom handles, the inmates captured guards and civilian employees for hostages.
Using tear gas, the undermanned prison staff regained control of cell blocks B and C, confining about half the prisoners in their cells for the long ordeal. But some 1,200 inmates were in control of cell block D and the yard it faces. Locking gates and even welding some of them shut with equipment from the metal shop, they repulsed advancing guards and shredded the hoses of prison firefighting equipment.
In the revolt, one guard, William Quinn, 28, was severely injured; some observers said that they saw his body fall from an upper floor. The first day, convicts released Quinn and 11 other guards and civilians so that they could get medical help. After being stripped, the remaining guards were given inmate clothing, blankets and even mattresses (which convicts in the rain-soaked yard did not have) to sleep on. Guard Phillip Watkins, 33, said that convicts at first kicked him and broke his arm. But another prisoner called them off. Later he was addressed as "sir," given cigarettes, hot meals and snuff, and a prison doctor was allowed to treat his arm. What he found particularly terrifying was not the convicts' threats, but the fact that he, like most of the hostages, was blindfolded much of the time. "Every sound, even the drop of a pin, sounded like an explosion."
State Corrections Commissioner Russell G. Oswald, a chunky, earnest man who, before moving to New York as a top parole officer, had won high praise from penologists for modernizing Wisconsin's prisons, rushed to Attica from his Albany office. He arrived on