McCook's hospitality question

The state’s minimum-security Work Ethic Camp in McCook will soon be converted for federal use as a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) detention facility, raising questions across Southwest Nebraska about the impact on the community and the region. Residents have voiced concerns ranging from the importance of immigration enforcement to the necessity of humanitarian treatment of detainees. Others have wondered how the change might connect to long-standing Nebraska traditions of hospitality and have wondered about reviving the traditions of the WWII-era North Platte Canteen.

Six sites have been identified as being similar in function to the one coming soon to McCook. While no two are identical, their shared features provide valuable points of comparison, offering insight into how such facilities operate, how surrounding communities perceive them and what challenges and opportunities may lie ahead for Southwest Nebraska.

Reopened in May under private management with roughly 1,000 beds, Camp East Montana at Fort Bliss, Texas, began operations in August with room to grow to 5,000. The so-called “Alligator Alcatraz” in the Florida Everglades opened July 3 as a tent-based site with 2,000 beds, though lawsuits could curtail its use. Camp 57, a new U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement unit within the Angola penitentiary in Louisiana, opened this month and is designed to house about 400 detainees under stringent conditions. Indiana’s Miami Correctional Center, nicknamed the “Speedway Slammer,” is preparing to open 1,000 U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement beds through a state partnership. In Georgia, the Folkston Processing Center is expanding to more than 3,000 beds with nearly $50 million in funding.

From those comparable sites, only one stood out for sustained humanitarian activity. Delaney Hall, a 1200-bed, privately operated facility in Newark, N.J., has become the focal point of a local movement not only to protest federal detention policy, but also to ease the strain on families of detainees.

Elsewhere, humanitarian efforts are limited by security regulations. Donations to detainees must be preapproved and usually arrive in the form of sealed hygiene kits or paperback books collected by nonprofit groups. Churches and law clinics can provide Bibles or prayer books if they are screened. Commissary accounts are often funded by outside donors, allowing detainees to purchase approved items directly. 

What cannot be sent inside under any circumstances is the item most associated with the North Platte Canteen: baked goods. Food of unknown origin, no matter how well-intentioned, is prohibited in every facility. Meals come only from the kitchen or commissary.

Delaney Hall, however, has inspired creative responses directed at visitors themselves. Local volunteers organized under the “Eyes on U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement” banner have turned the sidewalks into a kind of community canteen. They offer shade tents, water, coffee and even grocery gift cards to families who wait hours in the summer heat. A stock of clothing and closed-toe shoes is kept on hand so no one is turned away for failing to meet the visitor’s dress code. Translation and accompaniment are offered to those confused by shifting schedules and toys and coloring books are provided for restless children. A weekly prayer service adds a measure of spiritual solidarity. Those efforts have not altered the rules inside the gate, yet they have made the experience of visiting less dehumanizing.

There are concerns, to be sure. Some Newark residents have objected to noise, traffic and sidewalk congestion. City officials have sued to block the contract with the private operator, arguing that the facility lacks proper permits. Even among immigrant advocates, there is disagreement about whether easing the burden of detention makes the practice itself easier to tolerate. Yet most coverage of Delaney Hall emphasizes the positive effect on families who would otherwise be left to fend for themselves.

That balance may be instructive here. McCook residents on both sides of the immigration debate are deeply uneasy with the changes coming to our community. A project that channels that unease into constructive hospitality could offer catharsis; a practical outlet for concern. It may also provide a closer look at what is taking place, rather than relying on speculation, rumor or tight-lipped officials.

Such an effort would not be without precedent. During World War II, Nebraska hosted German and Italian prisoners of war in camps across the state, including Indianola, Atlanta and the McCook Army Air Base. Holdrege was not a campsite, but its Prairie Museum today preserves much of that history. Accounts from the time suggest that residents worked well with the POWs, who labored in fields and factories. Many left the United States with positive impressions of Nebraska, remembering a measure of humanity in the midst of conflict. Human rights advocates, legal scholars and law enforcement officers may bristle at the comparison, since detainees are not enemy combatants and the circumstances differ in inessential ways. Yet the broader lesson – that Nebraskans found a way to reconcile security with dignity – remains part of our heritage.

The situation today will not allow for homemade pies or casseroles to be carried into a detention center. Food of unknown origin is simply not permitted, for reasons both obvious and unfortunate. Visitors waiting outside, however, are free to accept coffee, snacks or baked goods provided by neighbors. If McCook decides to move forward, a modern version of the North Platte Canteen may find its place not inside the walls, but at the gate.

In that sense, the discussion itself is revealing. Few communities in the country would see conservatives and liberals meet on the same ground over an issue as fraught as immigration. McCook may prove again that its politics are not easily categorized. If residents choose to focus their energy on the visitors, the expression of hospitality may look different from the canteen of 1942, yet it could carry the same spirit. There may yet be room for coffee, cookies and kindness in the shadow of a detention facility.