Yard Act: Bands build a bridge toward rehabilitation at Lansing Correctional
Photo by Kelly Bowers
It’s a gorgeous Thursday evening in May. I’m sitting next to a stage as Lawrence musicians Melvin Litton and Mando Dan Hermreck warm up the crowd spread out on the lawn in front of them. There’s a light breeze as the sun begins heading down, giving the stage that golden hour lighting. You couldn’t ask for a better setting for a couple hours of roots music, which will also include sets from singer-songwriter Megan Luttrell and country troubadour Outlaw Jake Mandrell.
The smell of wet, trampled grass and the faint odors of food wafting on the breeze, coupled with live music lends an aura of a county fair or music festival. But the crowd here is clad in white t-shirts or gray crewneck sweatshirts, blue jeans, with red hats. Those crewnecks have big names and numbers across the back. If you lift your gaze to the opposite side of the grassy expanse, you’ll see a group of men working out, while a few run laps on the track that surrounds the yard.
Photo by Kelly Bowers
This is Lansing Correctional Facility. There are security measures like armed guards and barbed wire atop the fence surrounding the yard; That summer festival vibe is brought crashing back to Earth. Well, almost. Against all odds, there is still the typical group of dudes standing in a far off corner, playing hacky sack. That constant remains.
Since 2024, Lansing Correctional has played host to what might be the most ‘exclusive’ concert series in the area. Every Thursday, musicians gather on stage to perform for the incarcerated residents. It’s an idea that came to Warden Jesse Howes when he was the deputy warden at the El Dorado Correctional Facility.
“ I came here and I talked to my team,” reflects Howes. “With our Deputy Warden Nicolaus Ball and Marcy Konkader and all her great volunteers just took it and ran—All of a sudden, boom, here we are. They’re human beings, I’m a human being. We can all agree on the positivity of music, even if our situations in the world are opposites elsewhere. It’s important that we can remain tethered together in whatever small ways we can.”
Residents told me the Thursday night concerts are completely free of issues, as nobody wants to be to blame for losing the music should something go awry. As one of them who was helping with the show put it: “You’d have 1900 guys and they’d all be upset with you. You don’t want that kind of attention.”
This particular concert had at least 280 residents in attendance, which was an estimate on the lighter side of the average. One man made sure to point out to me the sheer number of folks lining up outside the cafeteria, so that they could still catch the sounds of the artists while they waited for dinner.
Photo by Kelly Bowers
Kelly Bowers organizes and books the Thursday evening performers.
“ They originally gave me three months: June, July, August,” Bowers recalls. “But it went so well, we continued from June to December.”
The first show featured Outlaw Jake Mandrell, who was an instant hit. Mandrell remarks that the Lansing residents make him feel “like a rock star,” and their response when he steps onstage only emphasizes that statement.
One resident quipped: “How’d Outlaw Jake get in here? This is a gated community.”
Since its inception, word of mouth has turned the Lansing Correctional Facility into a popular venue among performers who want to give back. As Howes heard from the band Superball after their gig: “Sometimes we play in a bar to like three drunk people. Here, you’ve got 200-plus folks who are here to listen to you and grateful for it.”
“ It only took me like a week and a half to book the place,” says Bowers of this year’s shows, which are scheduled through October. “I was just amazed because it was like, ‘Man, it’s a Thursday night, it’s not a paid gig, you gotta bring your own shit,’ but everybody’s like, ‘Hell yeah, I’ll do it,’ because Johnny Cash played there in the ‘70s.”
That said, “Folsom Prison Blues” is off the table, as the residents do not find it amusing.
Photo by Kelly Bowers
As a correctional facility, the stated intent of the program is to focus on rehabilitation of residents so they can re-enter society as better, functional members. This eye toward the future does little to cover for the stigma surrounding incarcerated persons, and that creates complications.
“A lot of people think that prison residents don’t deserve good things and don’t deserve to be treated like human beings,” acknowledges Bowers, explaining that any images shared from these shows require a lot of editing to make sure that no individuals can be identifiable.
“They are here, doing time, for harm they’ve done on the outside. This is a system built to pay their debt back to society, but that doesn’t undercut their humanity. Cruelty adds nothing.”
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