=By WARDEN J. C. SANDERS, Ft. Madison, Iowa.=
Footnote 1:
Reprinted from “Man for Man,” annual report for 1911 of Central Howard
Association.
I do not feel enough can ever be said to eternally damn, as they should
be, the vicious, barbarous, degenerating method, which until within
comparatively recent years, robbed penology of the right to be classed
as a science and converted our prisons and penitentiaries into forcing
beds for the germinating and spreading of folly, vice and crime.
Society, however, has paid the price for the mistaken views it endorsed,
and as the new era is fast sweeping away the old, I have elected to deal
with the man produced by it. And mark you, I say MAN, for in Iowa we are
trying to make men in our prisons today, not ex-convicts. I want to
feel, and I am going to feel, when the day of liberation comes, and a
man stands in my office prepared to re-enter the world, that society is
about to receive back in the economic value of the man returned, the
principal and interest on all it has cost to produce him. But to come at
once to my subject, the “MAN GOING OUT.”
If there is one thing a man needs most at such a time it is
self-confidence. Its absence marks the weakling and is almost a sure
precursor of his certain return to old habits of thought with their
accompanying results. Self-confidence rests upon a self-recognition of
ability, and this in turn is the outgrowth of experience which has been
productive of pre-designed results. If in his prison experience he has
been taught that results—all results—come through intelligent,
systematic application and has learned to concentrate his efforts and
apply himself and thus to realize them, he would be a strange anomaly if
he lacked confidence in himself. This is education expressed in its
highest term, acquired under that master preceptor—experience. To the
man imbued with this spirit, society’s attitude toward him he feels is
immaterial, not that he vicariously courts its hostility, but he is
possessed of the sublime assurance that his character-force will carry
him through. Accompanying this attitude and as vital to it for him as
the sunshine to the rose, is to make of the past a dead and, so far as
is possible, a forgotten existence. This I know is contrary to the
theory of the value of its lessons, but the man who, like Sinbad,
burdens himself with “an old man of the sea,” and thus accepts a
self-imposed handicap, possesses but little of the initiative in his
character.
The new going out, whom I insist upon holding in view, ought to be a new
spirit incarnate in a rebuilt body, born over a second time into a new
life, has nothing in common with the deal self buried in the past. If he
is not such, he ought not to be released. Why then embalm it in memory
and forever travel in the company of a mummy! The funeral urn never
pampered to anything but a sickly, morbid sentiment. A constant
reviewing of failure is no inspiration to succeed. The most sanguine
temperament falls a helpless victim before ravishing regret, and the man
or woman, ex-prisoner, allowed to re-enter society unfortified by the
philosophical truth that the past must have culminated in the present to
make possible a happier, better, greater future, has been badly
instructed in the ways of Providence—ever a witness to the wisdom and
mercy that rejoiceth more over the lost sheep that is found than over
the “Ninety and Nine.”
Next to self-confidence and a stoical attitude toward the past, the
important thing to a man going out is “purpose.” I do not mean merely
purpose to do right—that, of course, will be a conceded essential. What
I do mean is a definite, well considered and reasonable aim—something
higher and beyond. God alone knows how many men inspired with the best
of intentions have gone forth from our prisons and penitentiaries within
the past year, who have failed, are failing, or will fail, simply
because they have been led into attempting commercial impossibilities!
The responsibility for these failure will rest less on the men
themselves than upon us. If there is one duty above all others we owe to
society, to the men and to ourselves, it is to see that the man going
out has not lost his job—but goes out to go into one. In a large measure
this may be accomplished by reconciling the man to the necessity of
filling any position which will support him until he can catch his
balance and soar up to something higher. Where he is employed the
prejudice said to exist against ex-prisoners is very much a popular
error. I have observed that most business men, for purely selfish
reasons, if for none higher, recognize and are willing to pay for
ability, nor are they given to looking for or picking flaws in a man’s
past record.
So far I have spoken only of the three character-traits I regard as
indispensable to the present and future of the man going
out—self-confidence, emancipation from the past, and purpose. It is our
duty as missionaries in the field of prison philanthrophy to devote our
uttermost efforts to secure them to him. But character-traits great and
invaluable as they are and primarily of first importance in the work we
have assumed, should be supplemented in a material way. No ex-prisoner
should be turned loose into society unprovided with sufficient funds to
maintain him suitably—not in luxury—if you please, but comfortably, for
at least thirty days. And to be explicit and not misunderstood as
meaning to convert penal institutions into finishing schools turning out
embryonic millionaires at the expense of the tax-payers—I will say that
no sum less than $50.00 is sufficient for such a purpose. And you, dear
reader, with your practical experience, will acknowledge that this sum
is not an extravagant estimate. If there is one thing the ex-prisoner
should be spared during the period immediately following release it is a
financial stringency. I appreciate, as do we all, the noble efforts
being made by Mrs. Booth, the Central Howard Association, and kindred
organizations, and I am fully aware of the miraculous results being
achieved by them every day. And while I am grateful to them, and those
who so liberally support and second them, I cannot help feeling
chagrined at the thought that the great commonwealths of this country
should leave a duty so palpably belonging to them to be discharged by
philanthropic associations. I believe nothing is productive of greater
practical good than to secure a prisoners’ compensation law in each
state where one is not in operation at present. And, furthermore, I am
persuaded that any such general law which received the indorsement of
the public would meet with sufficient popular approval to assure its
legislative passage in any state where it is introduced. There are
those, I have been made aware, who are skeptical as to the policy of
providing ex-prisoners with more money than is sufficient to meet
immediate requirements. They argue that the pressure of necessity will
have a stimulating effect, that the man determined to lead an honest
life will, driven by it, go to work at once. But I question the logic of
this reasoning. For I cannot conceive of abject poverty under such
circumstances as other than demoralizing in its moral effects. And I am
sure every man works more cheerfully—more contentedly and more
effectively with a ten or a twenty dollar bill in his pocket than when
he feels himself to be absolutely insolvent.
And now permit me to briefly suggest what I regard as an important,
indispensable, and in time to be, universally adopted prison innovation,
directly affecting the man going out and which can be productive of only
beneficial results.
I believe we do the man going out an injury when we permit the transit
from prison regime to freedom to be marked simply by the opening and
shutting of a gate. It seems to me that this could be largely obviated
if what might be termed a “transit squad” was organized, and to which
all first offenders would be advanced two weeks prior to discharge. Here
the discipline should be relaxed and the daily experiences of the men
brought into close touch with those of the outside world. We recognize
the utility of such a step already—for we all know how prevalent the
custom is of giving near discharge men outside work.
In connection with the transit squad I would advocate complete
segregation from the rest of the prison—providing a dormitory ward
properly furnished, and connected with its own dining room, where a
special dietary should be served. I should advocate even going further
than this and permit the wearing of the citizen’s clothing furnished by
the state. In this direction the ice has already been broken, for it is
a general custom to allow prisoners to draw their outgoing shoes and
wear them several weeks before being discharged. During this period I
believe it would be wise to permit the men to purchase such personal
effects as they will need later—additions to their wardrobe and toilet
articles—and in selecting them I should be in favor of taking the men on
shopping expeditions—not in prison garb. We are all familiar with the
temptations besetting men going out—and their attraction would be
greatly lessened by a less precipitous exit from prison and entrance
into society than that now in vogue. Too often the last thing a man gets
on leaving prison is the “ice-eye” of a turnkey, immune to any sentiment
other than that arising from the expectation that his coming back is
only a question of time.
I have often wondered whether we fully realize that in the experience of
every man there is always the “middle man.” By the “middle man” I mean
the character taken after its evolution from the innocent years of early
life and out of which the last state of the man will evolve. The man
when received at a penal institution is invariably the “middle man.” If
we realize this, and in connection therewith that character remains
plastic, despite the old adage that “you can’t teach an old dog new
tricks,” and we conscientiously endeavor to secure the adoption of
regulations designed with the idea in view that we are dealing with
human beings, the “man going out” is an entirely new fellow from the man
we received—while our prisons will become vast catacombs, the eternal
resting place for the shade of the “middle man.”
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