Within the cellhouse building there are 664 cells, ranged tier upon tier,
there being six in all. The building is constructed entirely of iron and
stone, and the walls are nearly three feet thick. It is safe to say that
in this solidly built building more human sorrow is represented than
anywhere else in the state. If an authentic record could be made of the
tragedies that take place behind these grim, unsympathetic stone walls it
would fill volumes. However, it would require the enviable intellect of a
Victor Hugo or Charles Read to vividly picture the utter despair and
blasted hopes of the many thousands who have been imprisoned within these
cheerless walls since the construction of the building. It is absolutely
fireproof, but quite antiquated, the sanitation and ventilation being
extremely poor. About fifteen prisoners are employed in the cell house,
sweeping cells, galleries, passing out water, holystoning the flags in the
corridor and keeping the place as clean as possible. Two men are
constantly employed in whitewashing the cells and the interior of the cell
house, and another’s time is wholly occupied in exterminating bedbugs,
which are quite plentiful and possess large appetites.
The captain makes a tour of the galleries each morning and inspects each
cell to see that everything is in order. If a cell floor or other articles
are in a slovenly condition the inmate is reported to the deputy warden,
whose duty it is to administer a reprimand for negligence. While making
this four of inspection he delivers all incoming letters addressed to
prisoners. All incoming and outgoing mail is carefully scrutinized before
delivery. On Sunday morning material for writing letters is issued to all
prisoners who are permitted to write, and the distribution of tobacco is
also made at this time. The upper tiers of the galleries used to be the
rendezvous for inmates possessing suicidal inclinations, not a few of
whom, having lost all courage and lacking the determination to live, chose
this method of ending their woes. We use the words “used to be” advisedly,
for they have ceased to be an attraction to the death‐desiring since the
failure to accomplish the result occurred to an inmate who a short time
ago took the plunge from the upper tier. In an hour or so he was at work
as if nothing unusual had happened. Heretofore a plunge from the upper
tiers to the stone flags always meant a call for the undertaker.
[Cellhouse, Looking East]