Beth Nakamura

Dozens of workers, a mix of state employees and inmates from Coffee Creek Correctional Institution, staff the Oregon Department of Corrections commissary warehouse in Salem. Beth Nakamura/Staff

The warehouse in Salem functions with impressive efficiency. Dozens of workers make their way along a wall of goods, filling baskets with everything from Sriracha and noodles to bras and lipstick. Orders are checked by supervisors, bagged and shipped to customers.

Think of it as an Amazon fulfillment center. In this case, though, the audience is a captive one: They're prisoners.

The Oregon Department of Corrections runs its own version of a big box store for the state's 14,700-plus inmate population. The Salem operation, one of two commissary bagging sites statewide, serves 11 prisons; a second warehouse in Ontario serves inmates at three prisons on the east side of the state. And two other prisons, one in Umatilla and the other in Pendleton, have their own storefront commissaries.

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Beth Nakamura

Oregon's prison commissary system offers 1,200 items, from personal hygiene products and cosmetics to art supplies and TV sets. Beth Nakamura/Staff

In Oregon, like other states, commissaries are big business. Last year, sales totaled about $17 million -- a 14 percent increase since 2014, according to data provided by the Department of Corrections.

Inmates place orders weekly, choosing from a list of about 1,200 products, including snacks, candies, food, art supplies, underwear, cosmetics, pharmacy items, greeting cards and stamped envelopes. Money for their purchases comes from the inmates themselves, either through prison jobs, their own savings or money from relatives and friends.

(See related: Ramen, coffee, spicy sausages among hottest sellers in Oregon's prison commissary system)

Prison commissaries are nothing new, but over the past decade states have increasingly looked to these operations for revenue. Oregon’s commissary supports itself, covering operating costs and paying employees' and inmate wages. Whatever's left goes into a state fund that pays for a wide range of other services, including bus tickets and temporary housing for people transitioning from prison and items such as satellite TV services for prisons, exercise equipment, television sets and microwaves.

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Beth Nakamura

Oregon prison inmates place commissary orders weekly. They use their own money, either from personal savings, wages from prison work or funds from family and relatives. Beth Nakamura/Staff

“The more profit we can make out of here,” said Sallie Jurgensmeier, manager of the Salem warehouse, “the more it goes into the inmate welfare fund.”

Criminal justice reform advocates nationally say in general, prison commissaries tend to be more expensive and offer lower quality goods. They question the heavy representation of processed foods typically sold in the commissaries, saying they offer inmates little in the way of nutritional value.

Jurgensmeier said a nutritionist reviews products before they are added to the list. The commissary offers “heart healthy” items as well and marks them on the order forms, she said.

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Beth Nakamura

Women inmates have staffed the Salem commissary warehouse since 2008. Beth Nakamura/Staff

But people’s tastes and preferences in prison aren’t any different from anywhere else.

“We can’t have all heart healthy items because they just don’t sell,” she said. “You gotta have the junk food.”

Critics also say commissaries and telephone service contracts for inmates are ways that states shift some of the costs of incarceration onto inmates.

“There is the underlying human and ethical issue, which is, we know our … legal system largely targets vulnerable communities, low-income communities, minority communities, communities of color, and in doing that uses the criminal justice system to extract resources out of these already disadvantaged communities,” said Bianca Tylek, director of the New York-based Corrections Accountability Project, a national group focused on prison reform.

“If we know the majority of people who are in prison do not have economic means,” Tylek said, “then why would we continue to shift more costs onto them knowing that in large part that will hurt their re-entry prospects if people need money to survive?”

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Beth Nakamura

Until recently, women inmates had to buy their own tampons because Coffee Creek supplied only sanitary pads. The superintendent began offering tampons free of charge late last year. Beth Nakamura/Staff

In Salem, the commissary warehouse is staffed by state employees and inmates from Oregon’s women’s prison, Coffee Creek Correctional Institution in Wilsonville. It’s a coveted assignment that goes to women who have clear disciplinary records for six months. They can’t have any major misconduct within the past year. The state requires that commissary workers have a high school diploma or general education diploma.

“We have a routine, we have schedules,” said Crystal Pearsall, a former inmate who worked at the warehouse for the final months of her sentence. “We get back to the institution, it’s dinnertime and it’s time to go to bed.

“That is what a lot of us need to get back on track with our lives,” said Pearsall, who served time for an unlawful-use-of-a-weapon conviction and was released in the fall.

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Beth Nakamura

Snacks and coffee are big sellers at the state's prison canteen. Beth Nakamura/Staff

Women have staffed the warehouse for a decade after it became a challenge to find enough men who met the job requirements, Jurgensmeier said.

“And quote me on this: The women work so much better than the men,” she said. “They do. I think they have a better work ethic and they get along better.”

“They take more pride in what they do,” she said. “That’s the bottom line.”

Women inmates earn between $50 and $78 a month from commissary jobs and many end up spending a hefty chunk of that on their own purchases. Corrections officials said men in prison spend on average $22.35 a week, while women spend on average $26.04.

Inmates with good conduct records can spend up to $95 a week and twice as much during what’s known as the “holiday buying period” from late November through Christmas when the state sells dozens of additional items including cappuccino, holiday cards, cookies shaped like Christmas trees, dark chocolate bars and ready-to-eat foods like canned clams and something called “deep dish pizza curls.”

Jurgensmeier said it’s sometimes tricky to stock the commissary with products that meet the prison system’s security requirements. For instance, inmates are limited to gray, white and black sneakers because some colors are associated with gangs. Packages can’t come with mirrors or false bottoms, which eliminates a lot of cosmetics. Foil, which can be used to jam electronic locks on cell doors, isn’t allowed so that rules out some candies and gum.

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Beth Nakamura

Women inmates from Coffee Creek arrive early weekday mornings and help fill orders from 11 prisons. Beth Nakamura/Staff

The commissary offers a glimpse into prison life.

Inmates shop for budget cosmetics, hair ties, arch supports, suspenders and calculators. There’s chili garlic sauce, sweet and sour sauce and garlic powder. Inmates often replace meals served by the state with commissary food. A genre of cookbooks -- with names such as “Cooking in the Big House” and “Commissary Kitchen” -- explores the art of cooking behind bars.

An entire cookbook is dedicated to ramen -- by far the most popular commissary product. Every six weeks, the state orders 58 pallets of ramen, which inmates buy for 28 cents per package.

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Beth Nakamura/Oregonian

Prison culture includes commissary cooking. The commissary stocks a range of spices and prepared, packaged foods that inmates increasingly turn to as an alternative to meals served by the state. Beth Nakamura/Staff

Lindsay Watson, 36, said she can tell when inmates are cooking up certain dishes from what they order.

“The boys will order 15 bags of creamer,” she said, “and you always know they are making taffy. They make that in the microwave.”

For Watson, who’s serving time for forgery and identity theft convictions, and other inmates, getting their commissary orders are a highlight of the week. The orders are shipped to each facility, where inmates pick them up in a common area.

“It’s that one time where you get your stuff and you know it belongs to you,” said Watson, scheduled to be released from prison early next year. “You go sit down and eat your ice cream or whatever.

“It’s satisfying,” she said, “to have something that belongs to you.”

-- Noelle Crombie

ncrombie@oregonian.com

503-276-7184

@noellecrombie

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