[From the Galveston News we take the following interesting account of
General Castillo’s main prison.]
Cuba boasts that Principe Prison, its national penitentiary, is one of
the model prisons of the world. Officials of foreign governments who
have made lifelong studies of prison conditions have declared it to
be as near a model prison as one can be made. It is ten years old and
within that time only one prisoner has ever escaped, and he, after a
few days’ liberty, voluntarily gave himself up and asked to be returned
to his section. Within it have been confined desperate criminals of
world-wide reputation, but they have never succeeded in getting by
prison vigilance.
Principe Prison, or Castillo de Principe, Castle or Fort of the Prince,
is one of the historic points of Havana, and its history is closely
interwoven with that of the city. It was built in 1774 and completed
in 1794, and was then considered one of the strongest fortresses on
the Western Hemisphere. There is a legend that it was built chiefly by
French and Spanish engineers, who upon its completion were put to death
lest they might divulge some of the secret tunnels and defenses.
It is situated on Principe Hill, about two miles west of the national
palace, and overlooks the entire city. It has five bastions and is
surrounded by a moat fifty feet wide, twenty feet deep and loopholed
for rifle fire upon both sides. There is an ancient drawbridge at the
main entrance, but it has been out of use many years. The scarp walls
are about forty feet above the moat and are crowned with medieval
sentry boxes and lookout stations. There are many secret passages
leading from Principe to various other fortifications, but these were
hermetically sealed during the provisional administration of General
Leonard Wood. The principal one extends to Morro and Cabanas castles
across the bay, a distance of two and one-half miles. The governor of
the prison is General Demetrio del Castillo, and Lieutenant Colonel
Tomas Garzon is assistant.
Cuba is thoroughly modern in her treatment of prisoners. The terrible
“third degree” is an unknown quantity. There is no whipping post nor
“chamber of horrors” at Principe. Solitary confinement in a well
ventilated cell, equipped with toilet and shower bath and a wall berth
is the usual punishment. The prisoners are not only taught industrial
trades, but are given the elementary branches of schooling. Even some
study music, painting and sculpturing. The government employs twenty
instructors, most of them being graduates, to teach the 400 “pupils.”
There is a prison library, an orchestra and a brass band. The band
is the pride of the prisoners and is composed of forty musicians and
taught by a professional teacher. Several “lifers” are members, who
took up the study of music after they were sentenced, and are now what
might be considered tip-top musicians.
Of the 1,380 prisoners, 36 are politicians who took part in the
Estonez negro uprising in 1912. There are twenty-six “lifers” sent up
for assassination and highway robbery. The majority are robbers and
thieves, with a scattering of murderers. The race percentages are:
White 64, black 37 and mulatto 17 per cent.
The prison guard consists of eighty-two men and a small clerical force
in charge of the office. The prisoners are not put in stripes, but
instead wear a cool uniform of white duck, which is changed twice
a week. When working they wear a brand of overalls made from palm
thatches.
The big court yard, which covers more than an acre, has a flower
garden, neatly trimmed and laid off in beautiful squares and walks and
dotted with shrubbery and royal palms. The proceeds from the sale of
flowers go to a prison fund. Prisoners who can not do manual labor
make hammocks and other grass products. These they are allowed to sell
and the proceeds go to their families. If single, a fund is kept by the
warden against their release. Six hours is a day’s work.
During the evening the band gives a concert in the court yard, and all
prisoners are allowed to attend, notwithstanding the facts that the
music can be heard perfectly from the casemates.
Workmen in the shops are allowed 25 cents plata per day, while those
outside receive 35 cents. This is also either sent to their families or
kept in the release fund. They receive no pay for government work.
The men in the clothing and shoe shops are worked on contract goods
which are sold to Havana mercantile establishments, and they also
make clothing for the prisoners. Shoes run in price from $1.10 to $5
per pair. Were it not for the heavy import on leather these prices
could be nearly cut in half. The higher grade of shoes sell in the
retail market for $6 and $7. Clothing is made from 50c. to $15 a
suit. Beautiful white duck and linen and other tropical garments are
turned out that look about as well as suits made by many first-class
tailoring establishments. There has been some trouble with the labor
unions, who complain against competing with “convict labor,” but these
complaints have never assumed serious proportions. Ordinarily the
casemates are used for workrooms, but the shoe and clothing factories
are ramparts “hollowed” out and remodeled. An effort has been made to
work the Principe prisoners in road building, but for some reason or
other Congress has never allowed it. General Castillo built a sample
road near the prison and invited members of congress to test it, but
they continue to refuse to allow the government to be saved thousands
of dollars annually by employing the convicts upon the public roads.
Another feature that meant an annual saving of thousands was a proposed
printing establishment, where the government printing could be done.
This scheme progressed finely for awhile, and floor space was made by
changing several casemates into a large hall and machinery ordered, but
at the last moment the newspapers and printing establishments began to
hammer the proposition and the government abandoned it.
“But how would you get prisoners competent to do the work?” was asked
Colonel Garzon.
“Well,” he replied, “we would be compelled to hire experts at first
and keep an eye for printers in other prisons, and also inform the
police to be extra vigilant. It wouldn’t be long before we would have a
competent force.”
The sanitary conditions of Principe are perfect or as nearly perfect as
a medical staff of fifteen physicians can make them. The floors, walls
and roofs of the entire prison are of Cuban stone and are “sluiced”
twice a day. The “dormitories” are large, airy casemates and both ends
are covered by steel bars which make a window fifteen feet square. A
continuous sea breeze blows through them. The berths or bunks extend in
one tier on each side of the casemate and are made to fold up against
the wall. The “bed clothes” consist of two duck sheets and a blanket
for cool weather, which are changed twice a week. A row of shower baths
completes the furniture and the inmates are required to take at least
two baths a day.
There are three hospitals--the tuberculosis, contagious diseases and
the “public” ward. They are upon the roof of the south bastion and face
the sea. Their sanitation, according to the physicians, can not be
improved upon. The “lungers” sleep practically out of doors, or rather
with just enough overhead to protect them from the heavy tropical dews.
So healthy and sanitary is the prison that very few cases of sickness
occur. The majority of the inmates of the hospitals are those sick,
principally with consumption, when they arrive.
There has never been an insurrection or mutiny in Principe. In fact,
scores of prisoners when released at the end of their terms have asked
Colonel Garzon to save their “cup and pan,” and invariably they return
to use them. They really fare better “inside” than “outside.” The
average Cuban of the criminal type has but few necessities of life, and
these of the barest.
“How do you manage to keep the prisoners so orderly and apparently
well satisfied?” was asked General Castillo.
“We try to make them contented,” he replied. “We have a band that gives
concerts in the court yard. We let them study, work them, feed them
well, keep them sanitary, study each one personally and let them know
they must obey the regulations. Each man knows he will get fair and
impartial treatment. If one gets into trouble (and fist fighting is
the only trouble we have), we simply put him in solitary confinement.
There is nothing that hurts a Cuban prisoner as badly as to keep him
from talking and away from his associates, and besides, those in
solitary confinement are not allowed tobacco. We never prevent them
from talking with one another, and besides, each man gets two months
off of each year for good behavior. We hope to put the prison upon a
self-supporting basis during the present administration.”
In 1905, Juan Jose Garcia, serving a ten-year sentence for highway
robbery and holding a rich farmer for ransom, escaped. He, with a
squad of prisoners, was working outside the walls, and during a severe
rainstorm, he made a successful dash for liberty. He had four years
to serve. His escape was reported to the warden and the usual reward
offered for his arrest.
Some days later General Castillo was going into Havana by automobile,
when a man stepped into the road in front of the machine and held up
his hand for it to stop. “What do you want?” inquired the general. “I
am Juan Jose Garcia. I ran away from the prison last week, but want to
return. I have been dogged and chased by the officers and am worn out
and starving.”
“It serves you right,” said General Castillo. “You have been a very,
very bad prisoner, and moreover, I can’t keep such men as you in my
prison. You ruin discipline and break the rules.”
“But,” Garcia pleaded, “if you will just give me one more trial I’ll
promise never to run away again.”
“I am very busy to-day, but go up to the prison and if Colonel Garzon
will take you back I suppose it will be all right.”
That occurrence is one of General Castillo’s pet anecdotes and he tells
it with much enthusiasm and never fails to impress one that it is
the only case on record in Cuba that an escaped convict begged to be
readmitted to jail.
“General Castillo,” “gobernador del presido de la republica de Cuba,”
is a noted soldier of the Cuban war of independence, and one of the
island’s foremost men of affairs. He was educated in the United States
and later graduated with high honors from the Royal French School of
Engineers and he is what might be termed thoroughly “Americanized”
from a modern business point of view. He has made a special study of
foreign prisoners and is perhaps as thoroughly conversant with prison
conditions as any official in the world.
He arose to the rank of general, commanding a division during the war
of independence and took part as such in the Santiago campaign. After
the surrender he was selected by General Brook as the civil governor of
Santiago. He was appointed to his present position by Governor Magoon.
His son, Demetrio, Jr., is a graduate of the United States Military
Academy.
Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Garzon is also a veteran in the war of
independence and commanded a regiment of regular troops. He keeps in
close touch with prison affairs and makes a personal study of each
convict. He goes through the prison at all hours unarmed, and some two
years ago disarmed a coterie of prisoners who were planning trouble by
walking into the casemate where they were confined and ordering them
to turn over their crude weapons. That was the first and only time
anything that savored of an insurrection has ever occurred.