The field of correctional health care has lost its patriarch, and many of us have lost a very good friend.

Bernard Harrison, JD, was a lawyer with a strong sense of social justice (see page 10 for a timeline of personal and professional achievements). Early in his career with the American Medical Association, he was instrumental in shaping the legislation that created Medicare and Medicaid, balancing the goal of improving access to health care for the poor and elderly with the interests of the medical professions. This was no easy task given resistance to a federal role in health care funding, which was unprecedented in our nation’s history.

Man of Vision
Bernard’s passion for and skill in coalition building served him well in the early 1970s, when he had the vision and the initiative to undertake the huge effort of improving the sorry state of correctional health care, another area with no tradition of federal involvement.

As an AMA group vice president, Bernard had acquired experience in the political arena, both locally and in Washington, representing AMA concerns even to the Oval Office. With this experience and armed with an AMA study of health care in this country’s jails, he was persuasive in demonstrating the need for national standards.

Aided by small grants from the federal government and other sources, Bernard and a handful of other pioneers developed the AMA jail standards. A pilot project in a few jails successfully demonstrated the feasibility and acceptability of a voluntary accreditation program, and the effort soon was expanded to prisons and juvenile detention and confinement facilities.

The first national conference in this field was held in 1977. I first met Bernard at the second annual conference, in Chicago. All of us attending that gathering were comfortably seated in one hotel meeting room, no comparison with the thousands that attend our conferences today.

In 1981 the program separated from the AMA and became the independent National Commission on Correctional Health Care, co-founded by Bernard and B. Jaye Anno, PhD, CCHP-A. They recruited the support and participation of many medical, correctional and law organizations, and persevered in promoting accreditation in those difficult early days before the concept gained widespread acceptance.

As time progressed, however, more and more jails and prisons applied for accreditation and the Certified Correctional Health Professional program was established, along with the many other activities and programs that constitute the NCCHC we know today.

Well-Deserved Recognition
Last October Bernard and Jaye were the recipients of the National Academies’ Institute of Medicine’s 2003 Gustav O. Lienhard Award.

The citation for this prestigious award commended these “outstanding leaders…for their profound contributions to improvements in the quality and humanity of the medical care systems for the incarcerated.” Their work to develop comprehensive standards for correctional health services and to initiate the concept of voluntary accreditation provided “the incentive for states, counties, and the federal government to upgrade health care conditions in correctional facilities,” the IOM noted.

Lauding their ability to marshal support from key organizations and constituencies and to build awareness of the issue, the IOM citation goes on to state: “[Harrison] and Anno demonstrated the gravity of problems of inmates, the risk that these problems posed to the health of the public beyond jails and prisons, and the inadequacy of care that was being provided to inmates.…In concurrence with their work, the Supreme Court ruled that states have an obligation to ensure that an individual’s basic needs are met, including health care.”

Santa Fe Consultant
In 1991 Bernard and Jaye retired from NCCHC and established a busy consulting practice based in their home. The following year they moved to Santa Fe with their young daughter Kari, and we were then neighbors as well as friends. Jaye is a Western gal from Cody, Wyoming, who likes horses, but Bernard, who was born in Chicago and lived there all of his life, now became a Westerner, too. He adapted readily, sharing in the care of their horses, and dressed accordingly. On our many visits to Wyoming prisons on a contract with that state, he wore a cowboy hat and boots.

We spent many hours in the car on those expeditions to widely dispersed prisons. We had scary adventures in blinding snowstorms, and we had fun singing together as we drove along. Bernard had a good voice, and we knew the same oldies—You Are My Sunshine, Sweet Adeline and others. We’d tell jokes. He had a great sense of humor.

As we worked together, my respect and admiration for Bernard steadily increased. He was a classy guy, humble and always courteous, affectionate, strong but gentle.

When Bernard’s death was approaching, he reassured Jaye of the many satisfactions and rewards he had experienced, of living to love and see his children and grandchildren and their accomplishments. Always a genial and generous host, he and Jaye threw a large party on May 31st so that he could silently say goodbye to all his many friends and neighbors in El Dorado and Santa Fe.

By then he was going on grit alone, and although his failing health was apparent, he was his same old teasing, cheerful self. He was a private person and did not want to talk about his troubles. He had made his last contract visit to Wyoming the last week of May, and finished his report on July 3. He passed away on July 10, a man who died with his boots on.

Bernard Harrison, much-loved husband, father, brother, friend and mentor in the cause of service to the unfortunate, we miss you. And we remember you with a smile.

— About the author:  Steven S. Spencer, MD, CCHP-A, is an independent consultant and a surveyor for NCCHC’s accreditation program. A former medical director for the New Mexico Department of Corrections, Spencer received the 1998 Bernard P. Harrison Award of Merit for his long history of dedication, contribution and leadership in the correctional health care field.