Mother's Day

As the daughter of a German theologian, niece of another and sister of two more, Elizabeth Harre decided to break the mold slightly and take up social work. After her fiance was killed during World War II, she studied sociology and law, then worked at a women's prison as a lawyer. She soon decided that it was male criminals she really wanted to work with. "Female criminals," she says, "are not the 'poor devil' kind. They are beastly and hysterical." Young men in trouble, however, "are pitiable subjects in need of a mother, a woman or a girl friend." In 1962, despite the reservations of federal prison officials ("This will never be"), she joined the staff of Plotzensee juvenile prison in West Berlin.

There she got to know every prisoner, memorizing names and family backgrounds and urging them to talk out their personal problems. Named deputy warden two years ago, she helped start a prison newspaper, made no objection when the paper began making suggestions for prison reform and criticizing prison personnel. Also in 1966 she established a "halfway house," a special section of the prison for boys whose terms were almost up. The doors were unlocked, the windows unbarred. During the day the boys worked at jobs in town at regular pay; on weekends they were allowed to go home to parents or wives, or out for a night on the town. The 465 inmates at Plotzensee long ago began calling Miss Harre "Mother."

Last month, Hans-Gunter Hoppe, head of the West Berlin justice department, announced that "Mother" Harre, 41, had been appointed warden --the first woman ever to boss a male prison in Germany and one of the first such women wardens anywhere in the world. Turning to Miss Harre, he added: "Your female intuition and your motherly understanding--plus your toughness--assure me that our juvenile prison is in good hands. I am tempted to say that you are the right man for the job."

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