More than 170 years behind the gates: One family’s remarkable Springhill legacy

For most families, talk around the dinner table might revolve around work, children or what everyone is planning for the weekend. In Nina Clayton’s family, conversations have a tendency to drift somewhere rather unusual: prison.

Nina joined in the mid-1980s, beginning in offender records before moving through leave management, contract coordination and health services. She has spent the past decade in the information retrieval unit.

“When I started, we were referred to as secretaries or clerks,” she recalls. “It was very male-dominated. Now you see many women in management and in non-traditional roles, including correctional officers.”

Her own work has never put her on the front line in the way a correctional officer’s does, but working inside a penitentiary still requires constant awareness.

“You know your surroundings and take note of what’s going on,” she says. “You can be friendly with inmates, but there’s always that invisible line.”

Few people understand that distinction better than Nina’s husband, Larry Clayton, who retired from Springhill in August 2025 after 29 years as a correctional officer.

Their first encounter was considerably less dramatic than much of Larry’s career. He remembers seeing Nina walking down a hallway, turning to take another look, and walking straight into a barrier.

“I knew I had to ask her out right there and then,” he says.

They later met again at a mutual friend’s Christmas gathering, began dating and eventually married; they now have a 23-year-old son.

“When people ask how we met, I say we met in jail,” Nina jokes. “But we were on the right side of the bars, so we got to go home that night.”

Just a few years into Larry’s career, Springhill became the scene of an incident he would never forget.

On July 10, 1998, Larry witnessed a fellow correctional officer being stabbed and pursued by an inmate armed with a knife. Larry stepped between the injured officer and his attacker, giving his colleague the chance to escape, then tackled and restrained the inmate with assistance from other officers.

“I broke up the fight and saved my partner, but he got stabbed three times,” Larry recalls.

The incident took a toll on him. Larry was physically injured and says he also struggled afterward with the psychological effects of what happened. He took time away before eventually returning to work.

“You put yourself together, put it behind you and keep going,” he says.

His actions earned him CSC’s Award of Bravery and a Service Commendation in 1999. In 2001, he travelled with Nina to Rideau Hall, where Governor General Adrienne Clarkson presented him with Canada’s Medal of Bravery.

It was only one chapter of a demanding career. Larry spent roughly 15 years on Springhill’s institutional emergency response team, the officers called toward danger when others are moving away from it, and much of his career with the Guard of Honour. He also remembers performing the Heimlich manoeuvre on an inmate who was choking on a meatball, saving his life.

“You meet people from all walks of life,” he says. “I helped where I could.”

Nina’s brother Andrew Nicholson also followed the family into corrections, but later in life. Now in his 16th year as a correctional officer, he previously worked in retail and home renovations. Springhill offered the opportunity to remain in his hometown while building a stable career close to family.

But Andrew is quick to point out that stability does not mean easy work.

“Corrections is not a glamorous job,” he says. “It’s very busy, there’s a lot of stress, you get assaulted.”

What keeps him coming back, he says, is the people who work beside him.

“I work with great people, both male and female officers. That’s what I enjoy most, the colleagues and the social part of it.”

Like Larry, Andrew serves with the Guard of Honour, something Nina takes particular pride in watching.

“You notice how people hold themselves when they’re wearing that uniform,” she says. “He respects the uniform and what it stands for.”

Now another generation is carrying on the connection. Andrew’s son Adam has spent four years as a food services officer, working directly alongside inmates preparing meals and delivering food throughout the institution.

Despite sharing a workplace, the family is scattered throughout Springhill’s sprawling grounds. Sometimes Nina knows her brother is working only when she hears his voice over the public-address system. Adam occasionally drops into her building on his way to his own.

Years ago, when Springhill had a staff cafeteria, Nina, Susan and April regularly ate lunch together. Staff affectionately called them “the three sisters.”

Memories of those small moments are what Nina will take with her when she retires this fall.

“Some days I think, I can’t believe I’ve been here for 40 years. Where did the time go?” she says.

She is looking forward to finding new hobbies, quieter days and staying snug at home during Nova Scotia winters. More than four decades and countless conversations later, she will also leave with an appreciation for a workplace that has shaped not simply her career, but much of her family.

“CSC has given me a great career and a decent life,” Nina says. “My family and I have always been able to bounce things off each other, because we always understand where the other person is coming from.”