Building A Better Thug?

By JON D. HULL/MILWAUKEE

INMATES AT THE MILWAUKEE COUNTY House of Correction still talk about Big Amp, a legend who bench-pressed 460 lbs. last June, setting a new prison record. Big Amp is back on the streets, but he has lots of wannabes back at the prison's large gym, which is equipped with dozens of assorted free weights and two Universal machines. Among his admirers: Jarmaine Maggit, 23, who is serving 14 months for battery. When Maggit arrived last May, he could bench only 135 lbs. Now he's up to 325 lbs., earning a spot on a wall chart listing members of the 300-lb. club of Barbarian Bench Beasts. Showing off his 16-in. biceps, Maggit says, "I feel really powerful."

This has raised a novel question. Why are taxpayers in Milwaukee and elsewhere subsidizing what could be considered the largest health-club chain in the nation, allowing tens of thousands of otherwise scrawny murderers, muggers and rapists to transform themselves into muscle monsters? The issue so incensed Milwaukee County supervisors that they voted 13 to 10 last month to ban weight lifting in the county's 1,400-inmate prison, a move they hope will ignite a nationwide campaign against the cult of prison body-building. Says Roger Quindel, a sponsor of the ban and an amateur weight lifter: "Allowing these guys to bulk up in prison is so stupid! Do we really want stronger criminals? I'd rather buy them computers and then let them do calisthenics."

Prison officials, however, don't follow the logic. Most correctional officers strongly oppose such a ban; Milwaukee prison officials are starting a petition drive against the supervisors' decision. "Weight lifting is a tool to help control the inmates," says Jeff Mayer, security manager at the House of Correction. Currently, inmates are allowed only 50 min. a day in the gym, which leaves plenty of time for more cerebral pursuits. Those who avoid prison violations for at least 30 days earn extra time to pump iron, while troublemakers are denied barbell privileges. Says Sergeant Andrew Lammers, the gym director: "If inmates who bulk up become predatory, we won't let them lift."

What about the behemoths who get out? "Most of them just shrivel up on the streets," says Lammers, who has 16-in. biceps and benches 325 lbs. Deputy superintendent Lev Baldwin thinks it's unfair to single out weight lifting as criminal empowerment. "What's the difference," he asks, "between allowing them to get big muscles or letting them do aerobics so they can snatch purses and run faster?" The inmates themselves chuckle at the notion that biceps are a crook's best friends. Says prisoner Philip Shaw, 31, who resorts to 1,000 push-ups a day when he's not allowed in the gym: "You don't go into a bank and flex your muscles and say, 'Give me your money.' "

The proposed ban is now on the county executive's desk awaiting approval. If it is adopted, prison officials have already rejected the idea of trading in their barbells for StairMasters and NordicTracks. "The inmates won't touch that stuff," scoffs Lammers. Inmates and guards are bracing for trouble. Says Maggit: "All hell will break loose." ThighMaster, anyone?