Monday, December 23, 2024

‘End of an era’: Ballard family of Fort Ann served 94 years, four generations, at Great Meadow

By Cathy DeDe, Chronicle Managing Editor

What’s the impact of a prison closure?

For the Ballard family in Fort Ann, it’s the end of a very long era — 94 years during which four overlapping generations worked as Corrections Officers at Great Meadow, the maximum security prison in Comstock that will officially close on November 6.

n person and in photos — five generations of Fort Ann Ballards. Four generations served at Great Meadow: On the left, Donald L Ballard, Jr., holds son Easton and an old photo of his dad and grandfather. On the right, Donald L. Ballard Sr., holds photos of his father, Donald M., left, and grandfather, Marvin Ballard, right. Between the four adults, the family served 94 overlapping years at the prison in Comstock scheduled to close on November 6. Chronicle photo/Cathy DeDe
With the closing date nearing, Donald M. Ballard, Sr., who lives where he grew up, in the hamlet of Comstock in the Town of Fort Ann, reached out to The Chronicle with his family’s long story.

“Non-stop service,” Don Sr. says of the family legacy.

He, his father, his grandfather and his son all served at Great Meadow, known familiarly as “Comstock.”

His son Don Jr. is still active, but no longer at Great Meadow. On October 7 he was reassigned to Clinton Correctional Facility in Dannemora near Plattsburgh.

Don Jr. took advantage of his 12 years seniority and was able to transfer not so far from home. He and his family will continue living in Fort Ann.

He was back home last Sunday and joined the conversation with The Chronicle and Don Sr. at the Fort Ann Firehouse. Don Jr. brought along his three-year-old son Easton.


Don Sr. laid out the family story, noting that Great Meadow opened in 1911.

Marvin D. Ballard, his grandfather, was the first to work at the jail, beginning 19 years later in 1930. He suffered a heart attack on the job, November 13, 1957 — 27 years in — and died on the way to Glens Falls Hospital.

Donald L. Ballard Sr. is the keeper of the family history even including this “gem” — the “scoop” in the 1988 April Fools Chronicle that Ramada Inns was buying Great Meadow prison and would operate it more cheaply than the state could. Chronicle photo/Cathy DeDe
Second generation, Donald L. Ballard, Marvin’s son, started at Great Meadow in 1956, working alongside his father for one year.
Third generation, Donald M. Ballard, Sr., our storyteller, says, “I went to Great Meadow in July of 1979 as a civilian in the maintenance department. In August of 1981, I become a Corrections Officer.”

He retired in 2018 after 39 years.

Six of those years, Don Sr. worked alongside his father, until his father transferred to Washington Correctional Facility, the medium security prison across the road from Great Meadow that opened in 1985.

Fourth-generation Don M. Ballard, Jr., started at Great Meadow in September 2012, working six years next to his father — until October 7 when Don Jr. transfeerred to Clinton Correctional Facility, in anticipation of the closing.

Don Sr. adds that his mother, Ann, volunteered for an inmate literacy program in the 1970s; a sister worked “a few years” in the Great Meadow office; and numerous “uncles, brother-in-laws, friends I graduated with from high school, all worked in the jail.”

First and second generation Ballards at Great Meadow — Marvin and Don, father and son, at a 1957 clam bake.
The closure?

“It’s a lot for me,” Don Sr. says, tearing up but quickly shaking off emotion.

Don Jr. says, “The history is always going to be there, but in my head, it’s kind of over.”


“The history aspect of it was always cool to me,” Don Jr. says. “I’ve worked with other staff members all throughout New York State. I don’t know of another fourth generation, especially the overlapping. I did take pride in that.”

“There were guys that (my father) worked with in the 80s, that I got to work with. I remember leaving one day with (one officer), who said, ‘I remember walking in with your grandfather, Donnie.’

“Things like that are cool.”

Even at Clinton in Dannemora, Don Jr. says, “I’ve only been there a few short days. I walk around, ‘Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Donnie Ballard,’” introducing himself to his new colleagues.

“Oh, your Donnie’s boy,” he quotes, adding, “Your name, it travels with you.”

Don Sr. opens a thick album of old pictures, a corrections officers barbecue, retiree get-togethers, gatherings at the prison, newspaper clippings, other stats.

“There is, like a brotherhood,” they say.


As a field training officer at Great Meadow, Don Jr. says he got to know a lot of the newer COs in recent years.

“We’ve had countless people from (New York) City move up here and end up staying, from Queens, Manhattan, the Bronx. They moved their life up north to stay at this facility.”

Corrections Officers from across the state — at Great Meadow for a safety event. From Don Ballard, Sr.’s scrapbooks. Date unknown.
“They love the camaraderie, the small town, tight-knit. You don’t get that in other areas of New York State.
Don Sr. adds, “They they liked the idea that we all took care of each other, and we all looked out for each other. It’s a small town.”

Now those transplants are deciding, too, what’s next or where to move, Don Sr. said.


Will there be a fifth generation CO in the Ballard family?

Don Sr., points to Don Jr.: “I never forced him. My father never forced me.”

Don Jr. says of his three-year-old, “I wouldn’t tell him not to, but I’m hoping he has some more options than just Corrections, especially now that there’s no Corrections local here.”


Preparatory to the closure of Great Meadow, Don Jr. said there was an official filing day when he and and fellow officers all ranked their preferred transfer locations” among prisons across the state.

Transfers were decided by seniority.

With 12 years in, Don Jr. says, “I have a decent amount of seniority — not enough to go to Washington Medium” directly across the road from Great Meadow.

“That’s where my preference was. There’s 164 officers ahead of me to get to Washington. It’s years before I’m back.”

“Fortunately,” Don Jr. says, Clinton, where he was assigned, offers state housing. He’s bunking up in what they call a “flop house”: Eleven men live together, three beds to a room. At any time, many are in town for duty. The rent is a minimal $80 a month.


Moving to Dannemora, Don Jr. says, “It was never even a conversation, because I’m never gonna move.”

“I was able to build my own house here We put too much money into everything that we have. And I grew up here.

“I graduated from Fort Ann in 2005. My best friend lives right here. He’s in the department. I have family here. It wasn’t even an option for me to think about selling and moving up north.”

“Me and my wife were already squared up: We’re just going to make this work.

“Uprooting and then restarting, that wouldn’t work for me. My son is gonna graduate from Fort Ann.”

He says, “My goal prior, I was going to do 30 years in Corrections and be 55 years old. My plan was to make Sergeant, make Lieutenant, do that all that, when Great Meadow was still right here.

“That plan has now gone awry. I have always said, You never know where life takes you.”


His story repeats, Don Jr. says, for his approximately 700 fellow Great Meadow staff and corrections officers, each family deciding whether to move, commute, change professions.

It’s the talk, both men said, anyplace public — Fort Ann Super Stop, Dunkin Donuts, Cumberland Farms, Battle Hill Brewery, where Don Jr.’s wife Bria works.

He believes a significant number of Great Meadow COs have transferred to four regional prisons: “Clinton,” where he is; “Washington,” in Comstock, and Coxsackie Correctional Facility or Greene County Correctional Facility, both in Coxsackie.

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