Bruce Norris

Photograph of Bruce Norris (right) with his son Perry Lighty, courtesy of Perry, by way of The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Photograph of Bruce Norris (right) with his son Perry Lighty, courtesy of Perry, by way of The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Memorial by Stan Rosenthal

Bruce’s friend

Commuted PA lifer and my dear friend Bruce Norris passed away early on 1/30/21 from COVID-19 in a local Norristown, PA hospital. I'm shocked. I have known Bruce since 1989 when we worked together in the industries office and continued to work together when I clerked in the Activities Department. He was truly a good friend and possessed all the good qualities one would seek in a friend. He was a kind, honest and gentle person, always willing to help those in need. He tutored Villanova University students in Latin, sold Girl Scout Cookies for many years and was heavily involved with the Lifers, Inc. organization for incarcerated people. He was committed to the indoor/outdoor Volleyball Program and rose to League Commissioner. He was always honest and fair, and he defused heated volleyball games with his wise words and calm demeanor. A true gentleman.

 
Photograph of Bruce (left) and Stan (right) preparing to sell Girl Scout cookies at SCI-Graterford, obtained from The Philadelphia Inquirer by way of Stan Rosenthal.

Photograph of Bruce (left) and Stan (right) preparing to sell Girl Scout cookies at SCI-Graterford, obtained from The Philadelphia Inquirer by way of Stan Rosenthal.

 

When he became ill, I saved a stack of newspaper articles about our favorite teams, the Philadelphia 76ers and Philadelphia Eagles. I saved his Philadelphia Inquirer commutation article, as he never lived to see it.

We talked regularly about his plans to move in with his sister in NE Philly. Perry Lighty (Face), his son, had a car, phone and a bicycle for him. Bruce dreamed of a Sunday bicycle ride along the Schuylkill River on Boathouse Row. He was so excited to go on a ride with his children. His smile filled his face in those moments. We planned our ride together, someday.

Photograph of Boathouse Row along the Schuylkill River, Bruce’s ideal spot for a bicycle ride, courtesy of Bill Cannon, by way of Fine Art America.

Photograph of Boathouse Row along the Schuylkill River, Bruce’s ideal spot for a bicycle ride, courtesy of Bill Cannon, by way of Fine Art America.

I looked forward to speaking with him everyday, which was easy as we lived on the same tier. I feel so bad for his loving family that always fought hard to get him home. He was only the Governor's signature away from freedom. Society missed out on Bruce's reentry. He would have shined brightly and given as much love as he received.

Bruce is included in the book Doing Life by Howard Zehr. We'll always have that lovely photo, memory and his words.

I just hope I was as good of a friend. Be free my friend, you are dearly missed.

Stan Rosenthal, AS0828, SCI-Phoenix, PA


Memorial by Thomas Schilk

Bruce’s friend

 
Photograph of Bruce, courtesy of George Trudel.

Photograph of Bruce, courtesy of George Trudel.

 

Bruce was… just a good man. I’ve known him for over 30 years and consider him a good friend. We were on the same tier for many years back at Graterford, went to Villanova together and had lots of great conversations, often about Philly sports. Bruce had a clerical job for many years, was a referee and helped tutor other men in the Villanova program as well. Oh, in Latin no less! If I ever needed anything, I knew I could just run down to Bruce’s hut — if he had it, I could get it.

Very easygoing, Bruce had a warm smile for everybody. He took responsibility for his crime and was very contrite about the harm he caused. I was hoping that Bruce would be allowed to go home to his family after more than four decades. He deserved it.

….

[S]ome weeks ago, the pardons board finally made their decision and thankfully Bruce had received mercy! When he told me, he first expressed anguish that I wasn’t leaving too but clearly he was relieved. It was mercy, not only for Bruce but for his family and friends too. Of course, our families and friends suffer along with us. Bruce told me, “The hard parts over now.” Now, all he needed was the Governor’s signature.

About two weeks ago, they came with a wheelchair and took away Bruce. I found out soon after that he died.

I am so sad. Now, what of his family? All they’ve been through these long years and after so much hope, now this. My heart is so heavy.

This was not mercy.

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This memorial was reproduced with permission from Thomas Schilk. The full piece is available on Medium


The Latin Scholar

The following is an excerpt of an article about Villanova University’s college program at SCI-Graterford, which appeared in the Summer 2000 edition of the university’s alumni magazine. Bruce received his Bachelor’s degree in 1994.

Photograph of Bruce by Howard Zehr, as appearing in Villanova University’s alumni magazine in 2000, courtesy of Stan Rosenthal.

Photograph of Bruce by Howard Zehr, as appearing in Villanova University’s alumni magazine in 2000, courtesy of Stan Rosenthal.

Bruce Norris `94 has spent 25 years incarcerated at Graterford, where he earned his GED and then enrolled in the Villanova program. He developed a fascination with the Latin language. “Its order and structure appealed to me,” he said. Norris also assists other [incarcerated people], teaching them to read and write, encouraging them to earn a GED and go on to higher education. He also acts as a conflict resolver. 

Norris is an avid reader, devouring any literature he can find on African-American history, and is an enthusiastic member of the Great Books Club.

He also holds a responsible job with Correction Industries, a component of the state prison system, paying invoices for outside vendors.

He hopes he has set an example for his children, aged 30, 29 and 28, to earn their college degrees. He dreams that someday Villanova will institute a master’s program at the prison so he can continue studying Latin and bone up on his Greek.

Norris understands why some parents would question the use of University funds to educate [people convicted of crimes]. “I feel for parents who cannot afford to send their children to school,” he stated. “Everyone should have access to a good education.”


From Mourning Our Losses:

Photographs of Bruce from 1992 (left) and 2017 (right), courtesy of Howard Zehr.

Photographs of Bruce from 1992 (left) and 2017 (right), courtesy of Howard Zehr.

In the early 1990s, Bruce Norris was interviewed for the book Doing Life by Howard Zehr and said:

“I don’t have any problem with doing time for the crime I committed. I own up to that. My only problem is how much time should I do? When is it going to end? I don’t mind dying. I just don’t want to die in prison.”

Nearly 30 years later, Bruce’s fears came true. On January 30, 2021, he passed away from COVID-19 while incarcerated at SCI-Phoenix in Pennsylvania. He was 69 years old.

Bruce was a grandfather and a father to three children, and countless family members and friends deeply valued his kindness and generosity. Bruce and his friend Stan Rosenthal both were active members of the Lifers Inc. organization in Graterford Prison, where they were incarcerated in the 1990s. Together, they operated a Girl-Scout-cookie selling expedition inside the facility. In an article in The Philly Inquirer on March 11, 1993, Bruce was quoted as saying that most incarcerated people “don’t feel they can do enough — especially for children.”

Photograph of an article featuring Bruce and Stan in The Philadelphia Inquirer on March 11, 1993, obtained from the Inquirer’s archive on Newspapers.com.

Photograph of an article featuring Bruce and Stan in The Philadelphia Inquirer on March 11, 1993, obtained from the Inquirer’s archive on Newspapers.com.

After nearly 45 years of incarceration, he was on the doorstep of return. In 1992, Bruce said, according to The Philadelphia Inquirer, “the question always is, How long are you going to be here? When are you coming home? The answer for the last 17 years has always been, ‘I’m not sure.’ For a lifer there are only a few ways out of here: in a pine box, commutation, the courts, or over a wall.” After applying twice for a commutation and surviving the first nine months of the pandemic inside, the Pennsylvania Board of Pardons finally recommended him for a commutation on December 19, 2020. His only remaining obstacle was securing Governor Tom Wolf’s signature. But Bruce’s papers, along with those of at least 13 other lifers who had been recommended by the Board, sat unsigned for weeks on the governor’s desk.

While Bruce was waiting for the pen to secure his long-awaited freedom and return to his family, he caught COVID-19 from his cellmate — his first after decades of living in a cell alone. His case of the virus proved deadly, and he passed away early Saturday morning on the second-to-last day of January. He became at least the 94th incarcerated person in Pennsylvania prisons and the 12th at SCI-Phoenix to lose his life to COVID-19.

 
Photograph of Bruce with his mother, courtesy of his daughter Janice Stewart, by way of his GoFundMe.

Photograph of Bruce with his mother, courtesy of his daughter Janice Stewart, by way of his GoFundMe.

 

Family and friends are devastated by Bruce’s death, particularly when his homecoming had felt imminent. His son Perry Lighty told The Philadelphia Inquirer, “This was time after 45 years that he could have been home with his loved ones.” 

Several of Bruce’s loved ones have taken to Facebook to express their grief over Bruce’s loss. Charles Bassett, his nephew, wrote on Facebook, “My uncle was a good man. Loved by many! His death has shocked us to our core. We were all anxiously waiting for him to come home & now this.” Bruce’s niece Tracy Norris posted, “I pray no other family has to feel this pain waiting on their loved ones to be released.”

Photograph of Bruce, courtesy of George Trudel. According to Stan Rosenthal, Bruce was League Commissioner of a volleyball program.

Photograph of Bruce, courtesy of George Trudel. According to Stan Rosenthal, Bruce was League Commissioner of a volleyball program.

Bruce’s unique situation caught the attention of advocacy groups, too. Called an “entirely preventable tragedy” by Celeste Trusty of Families Against Mandatory Minimums (FAMM), his death also was mourned by the Amistad Law Project, a group in Pennsylvania that Tweeted, “He should be alive, and with his family today.”

Photograph of Bruce (center) from 1992 with two other men in prison, obtained from The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Photograph of Bruce (center) from 1992 with two other men in prison, obtained from The Philadelphia Inquirer.

Under this public pressure, actions that were far overdue — irreparably so for Bruce’s loved ones — came when Governor Wolf signed off on the remaining 13 recommended commutations for Pennsylvania lifers on February 11. Glenn R. Miller, incarcerated at SCI Phoenix, wrote, “On Friday 2/12, a group of men that made commutation left Phoenix prison. The sad part was that Bruce Norris should have been among them but he wasn’t.” Indeed, Governor Wolf’s actions could do nothing to change the unimaginable tragedy of Bruce’s loss.

The outpouring of love and support from Bruce’s loved ones, both on the inside and the outside, speaks volumes to his life and character. Bruce will be dearly missed.

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This part of the memorial was written by MOL team member Eliza Kravitz with information from correspondence with Glenn R. Miller, Stan Rosenthal, Thomas Schilk, Janice Stewart, and Howard Zehr; George Trudel, Liz Geyer, Charles Bassett, and Tracy Norris on Facebook; Doing Life by Howard Zehr; Amistad Law Project on Twitter; and reporting by Samantha Melamed and Gail Gibson of The Philadelphia Inquirer, Joshua Vaughn of The Appeal, and Katie Meyer of WHYY.


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