There are many kinds of love, but only a powerful passion could bring men to the Cambridge Springs women's prison, week after week.
They lined up Monday, stamping their feet against Crawford County's morning chill, waiting out the minutes just beyond the barbed wire. Some squint to see the women they love walking the yard of this college campus converted in 1992 into a State Correctional Institution, but they never seem to make them out.
A year of visiting the facility brought the men outside into clearer focus. There's the farmer from the eastern cusp of the state who comes every week. And the businessman near Philadelphia who wed a woman inside in 2006.
Inside, there are stories about "lifers" who get weekly visits from boyfriends and husbands, and heartbreaking scuttlebutt that not every man continues the devotion, especially for those locked permanently away.
And then there's Fred Nyiri, 44, an Altoona baker who spends every weekend, holidays and vacations driving nearly eight hours round trip to visit his beloved Patti. On weekends, he brings her two children. But Monday he spent alone with her, the man with the ponytail flipped over a T-shirt emblazoned with a crimson heart, Fred + Patti inside it.
Patti Yeager, 41, is a pretty brunette from Blair County. She chatted quietly in the corner of a room filling rapidly with bustling visitors.
"It's just one of those things," Nyiri said. "When you love someone, you don't care where she is. You care about her. You visit."
Depending on the size of the crowd, prisoners and visitors typically spend an hour or two together. On Valentine's Day, the line at Cambridge Springs likely will run 150 deep or more, according to guards. So Nyiri tried to milk Monday's minutes as long as possible.
He hopes the Legislature tweaks prison reforms they made in 2008 that grant early releases to nonviolent criminals. That law, however, applies only to people convicted after the legislation hit the books. Yeager arrived two years and eight months ago for insurance fraud. She might have to stay another eight years.
"It's hard, because I love her and want her to come home and be with her family. But no matter what happens, I'll still visit her. She knows this is real love," Nyiri said.
Most of Pennsylvania's 3,082 female prisoners are housed at two facilities — Cambridge Springs and the larger Muncy SCI in Lycoming County. Statewide, a little more than half of the inmates are single. But more than one in 10 are married, or want to be.
Getting hitched in Pennsylvania prisons is rare. Cambridge Springs has celebrated only one wedding since 2006. First the couple must attend prison counseling sessions. Then the inmate or her potential groom springs for the marriage license.
That's tricky because guards won't transport inmates to the courthouse to sign paperwork, and clerks often refuse to visit the jail. Videoconferencing the transaction is possible, but a court order is needed and taxpayers won't foot that cost, according to regulations.
The warden determines the date, time and place for the ceremony. Rings are inspected for contraband prior to the nuptials. The groom gets a brief kiss with the bride. She's permitted to clutch only a "simple flower array," and the Department of Corrections counts the flowers — no more than two. She can't wear white; only state-issued scrubs.
Forget about a honeymoon.
"No, we do not allow conjugal visits," said Department of Corrections spokeswoman Keli Kishbaugh.
