It was during the eighties and the nineties of the last century that I
was most closely in touch with prison life; and it was at that time that
the men whose stories I have told and from whose letters I have quoted
were behind the bars. For forty years or more there was no radical
change in methods of discipline in this prison, but material conditions
were somewhat improved, the stripes and the lock-step were abandoned,
and sanitation was bettered.
This institution stood as one of the best in the country, and doubtless
it was above the average in most respects. While the convicts were under
rigid repressive regulations, the guards were under rules scarcely less
strict, no favoritism was allowed, no bribery tolerated, and the
successive administrations were thoroughly honorable. While the
different wardens conformed to accepted standards of discipline there
were many instances of individual kindness from members of the
administration, and no favor that I asked for a prisoner was ever
refused.
But the twentieth century has brought a complete revolution in methods
of dealing with convicts. This radical revolution is overthrowing
century-old customs, and theories both ancient and modern. It has been
sprung upon us so suddenly that we have not yet grasped its full
meaning, but the causes leading up to it have been silently working
these many years.
For ages the individuality of the human being has been merged in the
term criminal; the criminal had practically ceased to be a man, and was
classified only according to his offence; as murderer, thief, forger,
pickpocket, etc. During the nineteenth century there was a gradual
mitigation of the fate of the convict: laws became more flexible,
efforts were made to secure more uniformity in the length of sentence
imposed, many States discarded the lock-step and the striped clothing,
and the contract system was giving place to other employment of
convicts. While the older prisons were growing unspeakably worse through
decaying walls and increasing vermin, as new penitentiaries were built
more light, better ventilation, larger cells, and altogether better
sanitation were adopted. However, the Lombroso theory of a distinct
criminal type, stamped with pronounced physical characteristics, was
taught in all our universities and so generally accepted by the public
that the criminal was believed to be _a different kind of man_.
The courts did a thriving business collecting all their fees and keeping
our prisons well filled, while the discipline of the convicts was left
to the prison officials, with practically no interference. Prison
congresses were held and there was much talk around and about the
criminal, but he was not regarded as a man with human feelings and human
rights; methods of management were discussed, but the inhuman
punishments sanctioned by some of these very wardens were never
mentioned in these discussions. "We are in charge; all's right in the
convict world," was the impression given the outsider who listened to
their addresses.
Unquestionably many of these prison wardens were at heart humanitarians,
and gave to their prisons a distinctive atmosphere as the result of
their personal characteristics, but they were all the victims of
tradition as to dealing with convicts--tradition and precedent, the
established order of prison management. The inexperienced warden taking
charge naturally followed the beaten tracks; he studied the situation
from the point of view of his predecessor, and the position at best was
a difficult one; radical innovations could be made only with the
sanction of the prison commissioners, who seemed to be mainly interested
in the prison as a paying proposition; and pay it did under the
abominable contract system.
And so the years went on with the main lines of prison discipline--the
daily lives of the convicts--practically unchanged. The convict was
merely a human machine to be worked a certain number of hours with no
incentive to good work beyond the fear of punishment. No thought was
given to fitting him for future citizenship. Every prison had its
punishment cells, some of them underground, most of them dark, where men
were confined for days on bread and water, usually shackled standing to
the iron door of the cell during working hours, and at night sleeping on
the stone floor unless a board was provided--the food a scant allowance
of bread and water. Punishment of this kind was inflicted for even
slight infractions of rules, while floggings, "water cures," and other
devilish methods were sometimes resorted to. In prisons of the better
grade the most rigidly repressive measures were enforced and all
natural human impulses were repressed. This was considered "excellent
discipline."
Now, as to the results of those severe punishments and rigid repressive
methods: were the criminals reformed? Was society protected? What were
the fruits of our prisons and reformatories? I have before me reliable,
up-to-date statistics from a neighboring State as to the number of men
convicted of a second offence after serving one term in prison. The
general average shows that forty, out of every hundred men sent to
prison for the first time, on being released commit a second crime. This
percentage represents a fair average of the results of non-progressive
prison methods to-day. But while our prisons were practically at a
standstill and crime was on the increase the world was moving, new ideas
were in the very air, destined to be of no less importance in human
development than the mastery of electricity is proving in the material
world.
There is an old proverb that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
Some fifteen years ago the vital truth contained in this old saying
suddenly crystallized into the playground movement. More chance for
recreation, more variety in mental occupation, more fresh air and
sunshine, were strenuously demanded. Not only have playgrounds broken
out even in the midst of our crowded cities, but open-air schools have
sprung into existence in Europe and are gaining in favor in this country
where climate permits. Athletics in all forms have steadily gained in
popularity. Freedom for the body, exercise for every muscle, is not only
advocated by physicians but has become the fashion, until golf is now
the great American pastime, and the benefit of physical recreation is no
longer questioned.
Even more far-reaching in eventual influence is the modern recognition
of the rights and claims of the individual. This awakening is so
widespread that it cannot be centralized in any personal leadership. It
is like the dawning of a great light upon the life of the twentieth
century in all civilized countries, and already it is affecting
existence in countless directions.
In the army the common soldier is no longer regarded as merely a
shooting-machine, he is drilled and trained and schooled into
development as a man as well as a soldier. In the treatment of the
insane, physical restraint is gradually being relegated to the past;
the patient is regarded first of all as a human being, not merely as a
case. More and more the individual needs are studied and individual
talents brought into activity. In schools for the mentally defective the
very foundation of the methods and aims is to promote the development of
the individual, to draw out to the utmost whatever rudiments of ability
the child may possess and to keep the light turned steadily on the
normal rather than the abnormal in his nature. Physicians,
psychologists, and educators alike are realizing the importance of
adapting methods to the needs of the individual.
Child-study--unfortunately, in many cases the study of text-books rather
than of the living child in the family, but child-study in some
form--prevails among the mothers of to-day. The gifted Madame
Montessori, from both the scientific and the humanitarian standpoint, is
emphasizing the importance of giving the child freedom for
self-expression. In the suffrage movement we have another evidence of
the same impulse toward recognition of individual rights. It comes to us
from every direction, even from the battle-field where the Red Cross
nurse sees neither friend nor foe, only a suffering man needing her
care.
Here we have two great forces: nature's imperative demand for more
freedom for the body, more of God's sunshine and fresh air; and the
still more imperative demand from the spirit in man for recognition and
release. The two forces unite in the one demand, _Pro sanitate totius
hominis_--for the health of the whole man.
Some thirty years ago Richard Dugdale, a large-hearted, large-brained
student of sociology, had the courage to state that the great blunder of
society in dealing with criminals began with shutting up so many of them
within our prisons, practically enslaving them to the state, depriving
them of all rewards for their labor and often throwing their families
upon public taxation for support; even in many cases making the
punishment fall more heavily upon innocent relatives than upon the
offenders themselves. He believed, however, that there would be a
residue of practically irreclaimable criminals whose permanent removal
from society was necessary, but that life for this class should be made
as nearly normal as possible. Richard Dugdale was a man of prophetic
insight, with a clear vision of the whole question of social
economics--social duties as well. Unfortunately, his death soon followed
the publication of his articles. But time is making his dreams come
true, and vindicating the soundness of his theories. Even during the
lifetime of this man spasmodic efforts were made in placing men on
probation after a first offence instead of sending them to prison.
With the introduction of the juvenile courts early in the present
century this idea assumed practical form; and Judge Lindsey, of Denver,
gave such impetus to the movement to save young offenders from the
demoralizing influence of jails and miscalled reformatories that this
example has been followed in all directions, and thousands of boys have
been rescued from criminal life. "Save the boys and girls" appealed
directly to the masses, and this ounce of prevention was indorsed with
little opposition.
But when the extension of the probation privilege to include adult
offenders--still further to reduce the prison population--was advocated
the public held back, fearing danger to society in allowing these older
lawbreakers to escape the legal penalties of their offences. However,
the current of progress was not to be stemmed, and adult probation has
been legalized in many States. The results have been satisfactory beyond
expectation, showing an average of less than five per cent of men
released on probation reverting to crime, against forty per cent of
reversions after a term in a non-progressive penitentiary.
This adult probation law confers upon the judge not mandatory but
discretionary power, and the character of the judge plays a part not
less important than the character of the offender; the application of
the law is primarily a relation of man to man; the unjust judge will be
unjust still, the timid judge will avoid taking risks; in the very human
side in which lies the strength of this course lie also its limitations.
Now the very foundation of the probation idea is the recognition of the
individual character of the offender and the circumstances leading to
the crime. But no sooner was the adult probation law in force than the
claim of the individual from another direction began to be recognized.
Curiously enough, in legal proceedings against criminals the injured
party had been entirely ignored--according to the old English precedent.
It was not the crime of man against man but the crime of man against the
state, the violation of a state law, that was punished. To the mind of
the criminal a crime against the state was but a vague and indefinite
abstraction, except in case of murder unlikely to cause remorse, or any
feeling of responsibility toward the person injured. If the injured
party were revengeful he had the satisfaction of knowing that the
criminal was punished; but the sending of the delinquent to prison
deprived him of all opportunity for reparation.
An interesting thing begins to happen when the judge is given power to
put a man on probation. At last the injury to the individual is taken
into consideration. Here is an actual instance in point.
"Five thousand dollars was embezzled from a Los Angeles theatre and
dissipated in high living by a man twenty-one years old. He confessed
and received this sentence from the judge:
"'You shall stay at home nights. You shall remain within the limits of
this county. You shall not play billiards or pool, frequent cafés or
drink intoxicating liquors, and you shall go immediately to work and
keep at it till you pay back every dollar that you stole. Violate these
terms and you go to prison.'"[14]
This practice of making restitution one of the conditions of probation
is spreading rapidly. Here we have a method hitherto unapproached of
securing all-round, common-sense justice, directly in line also with
sound social economics. Mr. Morrison Swift has well said of a term in
prison that "it breaks the current between the man and life, so that
when he emerges it is hard to form connections again. He has lost his
job, and too often health, nerve, and self-respect are impaired. These
obstacles to reformation are swept away when a man retains his
connection with the community by working in it like anybody else."
Another factor in the scheme of probation is that it brings the
delinquent directly in touch with a friendly, guiding, and helping hand,
placing him at once under good influences; for it is the duty of the
probation officer to secure for his charge environment calculated to
foster reformation: he becomes indeed his brother's keeper.
While modern ideas have thus been applied in the rescue of the
individual before he has become identified with criminal life, even more
marked has been the invasion of recent movements into the very
stronghold of the penitentiary itself.
The twentieth century marks the beginning of the crusade against
tuberculosis. Physicians, philanthropists, and legislators combined
against the fearful ravages of this enemy to the very life of the
people. Generous appropriations were given by the state for the cure of
the disease and every effort was made to trace the sources of the evil.
And then it transpired that, while the state with her left hand was
establishing out-of-door colonies for the treatment of tuberculosis,
with her right hand she was maintaining laboratories for the culture of
the fatal germs, and industriously scattering the seeds in localities
where they would be most fruitful. In other words, the very walls of our
prisons had become beds of infection. Doctor J. B. Ransome, of New York
State, finds that from forty to sixty per cent of the deaths in all
prisons are from tuberculosis; at times the mortality has run as high as
eighty per cent. He tells us also that in the United States to-day there
are twenty thousand tubercular prisoners, most of whom will return to
the congested districts and stuffy tenements where the disease is most
rapidly and virulently spread.[15]
He urges as of the utmost importance _that infected prisons be
destroyed_, and that convicts be given work in the open air when
possible; and that light, air, exercise, more nourishing food, and more
healthful conditions generally be substituted for the disease-breeding
conditions under which prisons have always existed. Thus, apart from all
humanitarian considerations, public health demands radical changes in
prisons and in the lives of the prisoners.
The automobile, the autocrat of the present day, has little of the
missionary spirit; but it has made its imperious demand for good roads
all over the country, and legislation now authorizing convict labor on
State roads is not only responding to this demand but is partly solving
the vexed problem of the employment of convicts.
How far the men responsible for the revolution in the management of
prisoners have studied these trends of the times I do not know. Most of
these men have doubtless builded better than they knew. All the winds of
progress, moving from every direction, seem to be concentrating in one
blast destined to crumble the walls of our prisons as the walls of
Jericho are said to have crumbled under the blast of the trumpets of the
hosts of the Lord. It may even be that the hosts of the Lord are back
of these winds of progress.
The introduction of this reform movement required men of exceptional
force and ability, and in answer to this demand just such men are coming
to the front. The United States has already developed a remarkable line
of captains of industry, but not less remarkable men are taking this
humanitarian field to-day.
The pioneer in revolutionizing prison-management was neither penologist
nor philanthropist. The first step was taken for purely practical ends.
It happened, when the twentieth century had just begun, that Mr. John
Cleghorne, a newly appointed warden of a Colorado penitentiary, found
that the State had provided neither cells nor workshops within the
prison for the number of convicts sentenced to hard labor. To meet this
exigency this warden decided to put a number of men to work outside the
walls, organizing a camp and putting the men, then in striped clothing,
on their honor not to escape. The experiment was altogether successful;
but so quietly carried on that it received little attention outside the
borders of its own State until the appointment of the next warden,
Thomas J. Tynan, who recognized the beginning of true reform in the
treatment of convicts and openly advocated the changes from humanitarian
motives.
While to Colorado is given the precedence in this movement, a notable
feature is the nearly simultaneous expression of feeling and ideas
practically the same in widely separated localities, from the Pacific
coast to the Atlantic, and even on the shores of Panama. Naturally the
movement started in the West, in newer States less trammelled by
precedent than the older States, where traditions of prison discipline
had been handed down for two centuries; but the time was ripe for the
change and it has been brought about through men, some of them trained
penologists, others practical men of affairs, but all united in faith in
human nature and in the one aim of fitting the men under their
jurisdiction for self-supporting, law-abiding citizenship.
Sceptics as to the effect on the prisoner of this liberalizing tendency
are silenced by the amazing response on the part of the convicts in
every prison where the honor system has been applied. This response is
unquestionable: a spirit of mutual confidence is displacing one of
suspicion and discouragement, and in supplanting the old antagonism to
prison authorities by a hearty sense of co-operation with them an
inestimable point in prison discipline is gained. We hear much these
days of the power of suggestion, and the suggestion, conscious and
unconscious, permeating the very atmosphere of these progressive prisons
is hopeful and helpful.
Never before in the tragic history of prisons has a spiritual force been
applied to the control of prisoners; and yet with one consent the first
step taken by these progressive wardens is to place convicts on their
honor: not chains and shackles, not bolts and bars, no form of physical
restraint; but a force indefinable, impalpable, invisible, applied to
the spirit of these men. In bringing this force to bear on their charges
these wardens have indeed "hitched their wagon to a star."
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Morrison I. Swift, _Atlantic Monthly_, August, 1911.
[15] _Atlantic Monthly_, August, 1911.