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Q&A: Father Bartko spent years trying to get through to jail inmates

Lockport Union-Sun & Journal - 3/12/2017

March 12--Father Gerald Bartko, O.S.F.S., is a Lockport resident and Niagara Falls native who celebrated the 50th anniversary of his ordination to the priesthood last September. While a student at Bishop Duffy High (now Niagara Catholic Junior Senior High) in Niagara Falls, he worked as a guidance counselor. After graduation, he entered the Oblates of St. Francis DeSales, then later studied at the Catholic University in Washington D.C. and received his theology degree from Fribourg University in Switzerland. He was ordained in Annecy, France in 1966.

Following brief teaching stints in Detroit and Salt Lake City, Bartko returned to Western New York and taught French, German, Latin, Spanish, Italian and a religion course at DeSales Catholic High School until its closure in 1988.

In the early 1970s, he was asked to by the Niagara County Sheriff's Office to speak with a troubled inmate who had strangled his wife to death in downtown Lockport. Bartko spoke with the man and realized he needed psychiatric help. But before Bartko could get him the help he needed, the man committed suicide. From then Bartko decided to visit the jail regular and offer counseling services, sacraments and Mass to all inmates. He still celebrates Sunday Mass at the jail.

QUESTION: What made you decide to you go into the church?

ANSWER: "I had good parents, they were always church-goers, always helping other people out -- family and neighbors. People frequently came over to ask my daad to fix this or fix that, and he always did. If there was a death in the area, mom would always cook a ham up or a cake and send me over to help them out. It just was a natural concern for their people, and (trying to) make a difference in people's lives. You see the difference. Little things can mean a lot to them.

"So, I tried the Oblates. Year after year it made sense, so I became an Oblate. I was ordained. Of course, going to Bishop Duffy, we had the Oblates. So, it was close; there was nothing mysterious or foreign about them. They were just good guys doing good things for other people. It was attractive."

Q: Could you tell me why you began offering counseling services and mass to the inmates at Niagara County Jail?

A: "I was working at DeSales. I came here in 1969. Anthony Villella called. He was the sheriff at that time and I had known him from sports and stuff (Father Bartko is a veteran high school football referee). He said, 'Gerry, could you come over here? We have an inmate that's really on the edge. He's attempted suicide. That's how it got started. And then Tony said, 'We haven't had a chaplain here or anyone to say Mass in years.' So, I said, 'Sure, we'll have Mass.' So I went one Sunday to have Mass. I asked the other guys if they would volunteer. Maybe we could get something going on a yearly basis, take turns. I was never thinking about being a jail chaplain. A couple of guys went and said, 'Oh wow, we would rather not.' Tony said, 'Can you come once a month?' So I started once a month. And it got progressive to the point where it was every week.

"I started going Fridays after school, walking the catwalk. Guys have individual cells -- the old jail -- 16 cells, and then there's a catwalk going around which the guards would give food through. I used to go around talking to the guys. They were only allowed one phone call at that time. Things have really ameliorated.

"Now I go for Mass every Sunday and then upon request, I'll go and see one or two here and there. There is now a protestant minister, a full-time chaplain. The requirements and demands have changed over the years."

Q: Could you tell me about some of the relationships that you developed with prisoners, if you did, and some of the ways you think it helped prisoners at the jail?

A: "Well, like anything else, you can't count on any immediate results. The guys who are great at Mass, you can always hear the pin drop. They pay attention. After a while they thank you. I'm sure many of the guys try to get bibles, offer prayers and so on. As far as ongoing, I respect their privacy. Some people come here at DeSales to see me after they get out. I meet them at Tops, I meet them on the streets, at the gas stations. Sometime they come up and give you a big hug and say, 'Remember me?' Sometimes you don't remember the names. But they say, I want to thank you for this and that. Sometimes guys will come in there, and say, 'Oh, you're Father Bartko. My dad says to say hello to you. You made a difference in his life.' Father-son (both going to jail), unfortunately.

"I remember way back in the late 60s and 70s, when drugs were big, there was a young girl who went into drugs pretty bad. She ended up in Olean, living in not such a nice place. Of course I tried to talk with her. Her parents called me, and I drove down there to pick her up. The place sort of looked like a crack house. I didn't know if I was going to get out alive or not. I picked her up and brought her back. She was trying to get out of the car; she was pretty high on stuff. And then she got herself together. She just called from Florida; she just wanted to thank me. 'Thank God you hung in with me.' You never know. It's really up to the other person. You do what you can, and you trust in God. But you're happily surprised many times.

"Unfortunately, too, you see some people back (in jail) four, six times. You wonder when the hell it's going to sink in. They'll come back and say, 'Yeah, I know, father.' I had one who was neat. I was there until about 11 o'clock at night, and the guy was getting ready to leave. But he couldn't go home unless he had a ride. So the guard said, 'Father, there's a guy who would like to see you.' He (the inmate) said, 'Could you give me a ride to the Falls, so I can get out? Otherwise I'll have to wait around here until the morning.' I said, 'What the hell, I'll surprise mom and dad (who resided in Niagara Falls), I'll go give them a visit.' I dropped him off, and by the corner there was a little beer joint. I said to the guy, 'Now, you go straight home. Don't hang around in there. I don't want to see you back again.' He said, 'Oh no, no worry, father.' That was Friday night. Sunday morning at Mass here's this guy, big shiner (around his eye). He looks up and puts his head down. I said, 'What are you doing back here? He said, 'I know father; I should have listened to you.' He ran in for a couple drinks, didn't have the money to pay for the drinks and had a fight over it. He ended up back in jail. They don't always learn the first time."

Q: Do you see that often nowadays? You mentioned the woman with drug problems in the late 60s, and obviously now there's a lot of people with drug problems with the heroin and opioid epidemic -- very serious addictions. I'm curious if you see a lot of that and if you've worked to try to help people with those problems recently.

A: "I do a lot of referring to different places, but I'll listen to them and talk to them. I'll try to get them in different (drug treatment facilities). I visit those people from time to time. You certainly see a younger group coming in. Some of them are young and cocky. All they're waiting for is to get out. And I try to tell them, going back to the stuff is going to get you right back in here. Some of them don't have jobs. 'Where are you going to get your drugs? Are you going to prostitute yourself, or are you going to go out robbing?' It's a dead-end. You try to get to them. Some people you get to, some people you don't."

Q: Do you think that there are any misconceptions or false stereotypes that people have about people in prison, and do you ever see anything in there that surprises you, maybe with the kind of people in there?

A: "I've had people I've gone to school with in there. I've had doctors, lawyers, kids. It's a drug thing. It isn't just people living in so-called ghettos or depressed neighborhoods that you find in there. There's broken-hearted parents living good lives, providing for their kids, and they end up with a son or daughter in there. There might be a stereotypes that they're all bums from the other side of the tracks. The drug thing is a big reason why a lot of crimes are committed. There's just no doubt about it."

Q: Do you think there is anything more that the state could do to reduce the recidivism rate, or do you think the state is kind of doing everything it can and it's more on individuals?

A: "The general term is 'education and retraining.' At the jail there's high school equivalency courses and so on, but the guys have to avail themselves. You don't force them, right. There's people coming from AA and other self-help groups. We have volunteers in that sense. But I think we need to talk about, if someone is left on probation or released early, if we had more and more job opportunity training for people, they wouldn't go out and have nothing going for them -- no job. What are they going to do? There isn't a lot of choice after a while. So I would think more employment programs, training. We have to try to help them realize they can sustain themselves with a decent job."

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