men on their discharge from prison became very evident. They had given
us their confidence and accepted our proffered friendship, had made
resolves to live honest lives in the future and would go forth to be
met by the difficulties and sometimes almost insurmountable obstacles
awaiting them in an unfriendly world. Was it not natural to foresee
that they would turn in their difficulty to those who had been their
friends in prison? What then were we to do? Give them advice, bid them
trust in God? All very well in the right place, but, to the penniless,
homeless man, cold charity. We realized that to make our work
thoroughly practical, we must be as ready and able to help the man on
his discharge, as to counsel him during his incarceration. To do this
successfully, we soon understood that for the homeless and friendless
man we must provide a home. Some who have concerned themselves with
a scientific discussion of plans to help discharged prisoners have
argued against the wisdom of such a step. They speak of the danger of
congregating men and would, I suppose, advocate the finding work for
the man on the day of his discharge from prison. It is always easy to
theorize, discuss and argue when you are not in the midst of an urgent
need and obliged at once to face the subject and to decide by the
circumstances instead of by your own worked-out conclusions. Practical
experience is that which proves and alone can prove the wisdom or folly
of any step. We have found in our work that it is not possible or
practicable to find work for these men on the day of their discharge.
Many a one coming from State Prison is absolutely unfit to take his
place in the busy working world so soon after his prison experience.
On the other hand, is it wise to ask business men to take men whom we
have not tested and of whom we know nothing? Some men, indeed many are
in downright earnest, but a few may not be, and if one recommends a man
without knowing his capacity, suitability or sincerity, one is asking
of the employer that which few would care to undertake. If men thus
placed at work directly after their discharge fail through inability or
lack of nerve and strength, they become utterly discouraged and it is a
sore temptation to turn aside to an easier way of gaining a livelihood.
If on the other hand, they go wrong, the employer is prejudiced, and
the door is shut against others who might have made good use of the
chance. I believe this is one of the causes that has brought prison
work into disrepute and has made business men adverse to lending a
helping hand to men from prison.
That the gathering of men together for a time in a well conducted
happy home is not in any way detrimental, but exceedingly helpful, we
have had ample time to prove. If there is no home for these who are
homeless, where are they to go? Respectable boarding houses and hotels
would not willingly receive them and would be beyond their means.
They would have to go down to the common lodging houses where they
would immediately be liable to meet old companions and be faced again
with the temptation of spending their evenings on the street or in the
saloon. The rapid improvement physically, mentally and spiritually
of those who have come to Hope Hall has spoken more loudly than any
arguments or theories could have done. That many men come out of prison
in a terribly nervous, unmanned condition is incontestable. Far be it
from me, knowing of the improvements made during the last few years in
prison management, to cast any reflection on the care of our prisoners,
still, the fact is here and must be faced. If we were dealing with
horses and cattle, proper care in feeding, exercising, and in the
planning of hygienic surroundings would suffice to keep the subjects
well and would insure their good condition, for there one has only the
body to deal with. In the case of human beings, we must reckon with the
heart, brain and sensitive nervous system. Well fed, well clothed, well
housed and yet with the mind and heart crushed and sore and anxious,
at times almost insane with despair, a man may become a wreck however
well treated, and as years pass, he will lose the nerve and force he
so much needs for the efforts of the future. Even the most phlegmatic
of dispositions, coming out into a world after years of the strictly
ordered routine prison life, feels strangely cut adrift and utterly
bewildered in the rush of the world that has forged ahead in its racing
progress while he has been so long side-tracked. Fresh air, a good
sleeping place, friendly faces and cheering Christian influence with
elevating surroundings mean everything to a man in these early, anxious
days.
Thank God some have homes to go to, where a loving mother or a tender
wife stands between them and the gazing, critical world. There they can
regain self-control and can have a breathing space, before they face
the struggle which is almost sure to await them. But what of those who
have no home, no friends, no place to turn? Especially does this need
confront us in the case of the long time prisoner. Think of coming back
into life after fifteen or twenty years' imprisonment! After six weeks
in a hospital room, the streets seem to us a roaring torrent of danger.
One feels as if every car were bent on running one down and the very
pedestrians are possessed to one's imagination with a desire to collide
with one at every step. The weakened nerves are alarmed at the unusual
stir and noise; one's eyes are dazzled at the glare of light and one's
feet seem to move, not with one's own volition, but with some notion of
their own as to where they should stagger and it is a relief to creep
away into some quiet corner. Now picture the return of one who has been
banished behind high gates and kept in the close limits of cell and
prison workshop for twenty or thirty years. The "L" road, cable cars,
electric trolleys, sky scrapers and countless other wonders of the age
are absolutely new to him, and in the crowded streets, the throngs of
human beings pressing hither and thither are all strangers to this
man from the inside world. Added to this is the knowledge of his own
condition, and he is an easy prey to an abnormally developed fancy. He
imagines that every man who meets him can tell whence he has come. His
very nervousness and lack of confidence make him act suspiciously.
Then there are the sick. The fact that a man has been more or less
ailing for months is not a cause for detention in prison. When his
term expires, the authorities have no power to keep him and naturally
such a man would bitterly resent the lengthening of his term; and yet
he may be far too ill to undertake work and in just the condition when
kindness and care would mean everything to both present and future.
Surely it is needless to picture more causes for the step that we felt
led to take as the second phase of our work. The "boys" needed a home
and the need called for speedy action. The home was planned and opened
six months after the work in prison had started, and hundreds to-day
look back to it as a blessed haven of rest; a bright spot which has
been to many the first and only one in life. When we first started, the
plans were all talked over in prison. I took the men, not the public,
into my confidence. The idea was warmly welcomed and every item of news
about the project looked for with keenest interest. Our idea was to
have a place that would be a real home and not an institution. We did
not want a mission in the city with sleeping rooms attached; certainly
not a place placarded "Prisoners' Home," "Shelter for Ex-convicts,"
etc. Our friends were no longer prisoners, our guests were never to be
called ex-convicts. It was to be a home hidden away from the public,
and as much as possible patterned after that to which the mother would
welcome her boy were she living and able to do so. In Sing Sing Prison
we named our Home, and the name chosen was "Hope Hall." We felt that
that name would have no brand in it and we earnestly prayed that it
might prove the threshold of hope to those who passed through its doors
to the new life of the future. In the matter of furnishing, the same
idea of homelikeness and comfort without extravagance was carried out.
Pretty coloring and light cheeriness have always been aimed at as
affording the best contrast to the gloom and dreariness of the narrow
prison cell.
The house we first opened was a large frame building on Washington
Heights, that had once been a Club. After two years we moved into the
country on Long Island, that we might have a home of our own and more
ground to cultivate. We purchased a ten acre farm and by degrees have
enlarged and improved the house, reclaimed and cultivated the ground
and made a home which proves a veritable surprise to the many who have
looked forward to it for years, and yet even in their dreams have
not painted it as brightly as it deserved. If you give, give freely,
that the receiver may feel that you have done your best and then you
will appeal to his true heart gratitude. If your giving is with many
limitations the receiver will say, "Oh, I see they think anything is
good enough for me," and your intended blessing may lose all its value.
We have realized this fact and borne it in mind in all our work. As
our superintendent showed a newcomer around the Home on one occasion,
the man turned to him and with eyes filled with tears exclaimed, "Oh!
I ought to be good after this." The same thought has been seen in many
lives and we have wanted our Home to so truly fulfill its purpose that
it might form a veritable barrier between the men and their past.
Of course the undertaking was not an easy one. We had no capital behind
us, the Volunteer movement was then but a young organization and our
work in the prisons was at a stage where people looked at it as a
doubtful experiment. Money was gathered slowly and very uncertainly.
Some months, through our meetings we received very cheering returns;
during others, especially in the heat of summer we had to face grave
anxiety and often did not know where the next dollar was coming from.
On one such dark day, when bills were due and the funds exhausted, at
a meeting of my League in prison, I told the "boys" of the burden I
was bearing. Already we had so truly become sharers together of this
work that it seemed natural to lighten my heart by talking freely to
the "boys" and asking them to pray with me for the financial help we
so needed. Some weeks after this as I opened the pile of mail that lay
on my desk, I came to an envelope marked as coming from the warden's
office. Laying other letters aside I hastened to open it, thinking
it might be the news of some home-coming or other urgent business
connected with one of our many friends. There were only a few words on
the sheet of paper, but the enclosure proved to be a check for four
hundred and forty-seven dollars. This was the result of a collection
taken up by the men among themselves, in token of their appreciation
of and confidence in our work. This money represented a sacrifice the
outside world can hardly compute, for it was spared from the small sums
they had on deposit, which could furnish them with little comforts
or necessities during the long years of prison life. To say how much
comfort and strength my heart received from this thought and love so
practically expressed, would be impossible through the poor medium
of type and paper, but together with many subsequent signs, it made
it possible for me to realize how truly the "boys" were with us. To
have them in full accord with the work means more to me than would the
plaudits of the public or the patronage of the wealthy.
As years have passed, many dear friends have been raised up to help us
and they have done nobly. A large number have joined our Maintenance
League, paying a given sum monthly or yearly, and some very helpful
and generous donations have been received. Still the raising of the
funds is our one dark cloud and appears our hardest problem. For
five years past, this has forced me to spend much of my time on the
lecture platform, earning money to meet the growing needs of the work.
Fortunately through inheritance I am personally independent, so that
my husband and I take no salary for our services, but even giving as I
do all my earnings to the work, the fact remains that time thus spent
is taken from my direct purpose and is a great expenditure of effort
and strength sorely needed elsewhere.
When the Home was first started we laid down a few simple rules to
guard and govern it. It should be borne in mind that it is not a home
for criminals, it is a home for men who earnestly desire to do right.
They come there because they have done with the old life, and our
first condition is that those who come to Hope Hall must come direct
from State Prison. This is to guard our family of earnest men from
those who might come to Hope Hall as a last resort after spending
their money in the old haunts. We drew no narrow lines of eligibility.
The Catholic was to be as welcome as the Protestant, the Jew as the
infidel. It was not necessary for a man to have been a member of our
League, though of course we feel that the League can but prove a most
helpful preparation for the Home. Another strict rule that the men
have very deeply appreciated is the exclusion of the public. From the
first, we wished the sacredness of their home privacy to be respected.
All too long have these our friends been marked men, pointed out and
associated with their crimes and made to feel that they are the lawful
prey of the morbidly curious. The rule was therefore made that no one
who had not served at least one term in prison was to have admission to
the Home. Very few of our most intimate friends have ever been there
and they have been selected from among those who, having known the work
within prison walls, were somewhat acquainted with the men. We have no
public meetings at Hope Hall. The family prayers and Sunday services
are often attended by men who have returned for an hour or two's visit.
The testimonies given by such are most helpful and encouraging, but we
do not believe in inviting the outside world to hear these one-time
prisoners relate the history of their crimes.
Chancing to pick up a book the other day which dealt with the reaching
of "the submerged," I found the following account. A worker amid these
"under-world" scenes had smuggled in some wealthy and charitably
inclined people and while his poorer guests were eating, he enlightened
and entertained his rich acquaintances as follows: "This gentleman with
the bullet head very closely cropped, returned home only forty-eight
hours ago, after two years' absence for harboring mistaken notions
of the privileges of uninvited guests who make stealthy and forcible
entrance. This other gentleman with the foxy face and furtive eyes
has the distinction of being the cleverest jewel thief in London. As
with all children of genius his demon is at times too much for him.
Would Mrs. ---- therefore look to her gems and precious stones? That
slip of a girl in the back recently faced the law for pocket-picking
and in the dock picked the pocket of the guardian who stood beside
her, a pretty feat which gave rivals a thrill of envy. Yonder youth
with the well anointed head and the fore-lock curled over his eye
is the promising leader of a band of Hooligans. They could see the
belt buckle gleam at his waist; that buckle has knocked three men
senseless within ten days. The distinguished looking individual in the
corner with the large aggressive jowl wore the broad arrow for ten
years because of a sportive freak which an illiberal law construed
as manslaughter, and the man next to him likewise with a striking
countenance stood his trial on a capital charge and came off unscathed,
though moral certainty was dead against him." Now all this may be
very clever from the pen of a novelist and the speaking flippantly
of crime and criminals may be looked upon as literary license. The
book in all likelihood will never be read in the "under-world" where
feelings would be outraged by such a travesty on charity, but when one
comes to the reality, what could be more ghastly than the treating of
one's fellow-men as though they constituted some strange species to be
studied, exhibited and joked about. On the other hand the harm is quite
as grievous in allowing men to exploit in testimony before the public
the evil deeds of the past. Let them say all they like about the love
and mercy and power of the Christ, but let the evil, shameful past be
buried in the grave of the long ago.
Having been in the past for years connected with a movement that
encouraged the recital of such testimonies, I know of what I speak
when I say that they are harmful, and that talking of wrong-doing
is often the first step to feeling one can do it again. The shame
and humiliation that should be felt are soon lost to those who talk
much of what they have been, and a spirit of exaggeration and almost
boastfulness takes its place.
No reporters have been permitted to visit Hope Hall. I was assured that
the accounts I could thus secure of the work, would be most helpful and
would give our Movement wide public recognition, if I would consent
to waive this rule. On the other hand it would do incalculable harm
in prison, making the men feel that the work was done more or less
for the advertising of the Movement, and it would keep from us the
most self-respecting and earnest of the men. In this work the foremost
thought has been and must always be the "boys." We view questions
through their eyes, try to enter understandingly into their feelings
and in so doing the work must be kept on lines that hold their approval
and endorsement.
No discrimination as to crimes is made in the welcoming of our guests;
that is a matter of the past. Sin is sin, and we do not ask if it has
been little or big, when the sinner has repented. The number of terms
served, the nationality or the color of the man make to us no more
difference than their creed. All men who come straight from prison and
need Hope Hall are eligible. When they have come, they are expected to
behave as gentlemen. The rules are only such as would govern any well
regulated family and are made for the protection of the men against
those who might spoil the peace and comfort of the Home. We strongly
urge silence regarding the past and as far as possible the forgetting
of its sad memories. During the day all the men able to work are busy.
We have no industries such as mat or broom making, which we feared
would spoil the home aspect of the place, besides robbing the men of
their ambition to strike out in work for themselves. They are employed
in the work of the house; some are busy in the laundry, some at
painting, carpentering or building; others have the important position
of cooks; still there is also the garden, farming and care of horse and
cow to be remembered. The extension to our building with the twelve
new rooms was built entirely by the men. When there is no building or
farming to be done other occupations can easily be found.
In the evening they can gather in the music room to play games, of
which we have a good supply, or to listen to the phonograph or amuse
themselves with songs around the piano. We have already a rather nice
library and those who wish to read or write quietly in the parlors can
do so, while on summer nights the broad piazzas offer a quiet, cool
and inviting resting-place. There is no regulation as to the length
of stay of any man who comes to us. Some can obtain work much more
readily than others. The able bodied laborer and skilled mechanic have
the best chance; in spring time farm hands are in great demand, while
the man who has never done honest work in his life before or the one
who has been a bookkeeper or held some other position of trust are the
ones most disqualified for the next new start in life. Many are well
able and willing to work after a week or two weeks with us; others may
need months to strengthen and nerve them for their life struggle. I was
told by those who foretold disappointment that I should have to deal
with many men too lazy to work, who would come and stay at the Home as
long as we would support them. This has not been my experience. On the
contrary the difficulty has been to instill patience, so anxious are
they to launch out for themselves and prove their sincerity.
I remember the case of a man who came to us in the early days. He
had held a good paying position in the past before the yielding to
temptations which gave him his term in prison, but of course that
record was now against him. To work with pick and shovel, however
anxious he was to do so, would have broken him down in a few days, for
his health was wretched. During his stay with us his conduct was above
reproach and his work in charge of our dining-room was most systematic
and helpful. When he was graduated, it was to take the position of
dish washer in a restaurant, which he filled faithfully for over a
year. It meant long hours and small pay, yet he persevered and held the
position. From this he went to a better place in the country. There the
character given him helped him yet higher and now after six years he is
in a fine position and is receiving good wages. He is married and is
settled in a very comfortable little home. He feels that it was worth
the year of dish-washing to climb steadily to the position he now
holds.
Not long since a man came to us who was a gentleman by education and
training, a very bright and able fellow, whose fall had come by getting
embroiled in corrupt politics and by extravagant, intemperate living.
He thoroughly learned his lesson in prison, and showed the most earnest
desire to start right in the new life. As no suitable position opened,
his stay at the home had to be a long one, but each week saw a marked
improvement in his character. Finding that the officer was in need of
a man to take charge of the laundry, he volunteered and from early to
late was as faithful over the wash tub and ironing-board as if they had
been double entry or the balancing of office books. He graduated to a
humble position in a big New York house where we confidently expect
him to rise by his hard work and ability. Though his salary is as yet
small, he writes to us letters full of contentment and gratitude,
showing in every way that the new spirit has entered into him, proving
clearly that he realizes that life is a thing that must be made, not
merely spent.