PRISON EXPERIENCES
The State prison at that time was situated in the capital of the State.
A collection of old and dilapidated buildings, expressive of the misery
and the suffering inside, stood within sight of the capitol--a contrast
of two extremes.
The idea of the construction of the buildings was good. There were four
wings, each converging into a common center. From this center the guard
could see all that took place in the several wings. In the center were
the desks of the “P. K.” and the center keeper. The P. K., so called by
the men, had general supervision of the entire prison. In his hands was
placed the discipline of the entire institution. His was the authority
to order all punishment, responsible only to the warden.
At the time when I entered there were none of the reforms now so
common in most of the penal institutions of the country: stripes, the
lockup, the clipped head, the “contract system” were in general vogue.
There were no privileges to speak of. The prisoner was allowed to
write but one letter a month. No newspapers were permitted to enter
the institution. Pencils and writing paper were absolutely prohibited
on pain of severe punishment. It was like a prison, one could imagine,
that came up from the Dark Ages untouched by modern thought or usage.
The cells were of brick covered with the whitewash of many years. In
this whitewash much vermin had nesting places, and it was a continual
battle between the prisoner and the vermin from the time the former
first entered the cell. The cells were about five by seven; the
furniture was meager, consisting of an iron cot, a corn-husk mattress
and pillow, a table that folded against the wall, and a small wooden
stool. For covering, the prisoner was given a blanket. There were no
electric lights or toilet conveniences.
Looking back over my experiences, I can say that the food was on
about the average served in similar institutions--sometimes fair,
occasionally good, and at other times very bad. It is an impossible
task to please all the men in such an institution, an absurd endeavor
even to try to please them. Convicts, as a rule, are chronic kickers.
Serve them with ham and eggs for any reasonable time, mutterings of
discontent would soon follow. Some officials seem to know this, and
change the diet of the prisoner frequently. The same food served
continuously soon becomes monotonous. Men lose their appetite,
discontent poisons their nature, melancholy results, and trouble
follows. If a change of food is made at intervals of the year, a better
discipline is procured. That, at least, is my experience. If the
prisoner is satisfied with his food, a better and more wholesome state
of mind results, and, naturally, a better discipline follows.
The punishment as inflicted at this institution was never brutal.
During my stay of over ten months I heard of no cuffings-up, of no
water cure, of no severe whippings, and of no manhandlings by the
guards. Nevertheless, I found there the best discipline of any like
institution I was ever in. As a general rule, the guards were of a
little higher caste than the average.
In all such places political or personal pull amounts to a great
deal. In this respect I found this institution no exception. This
pull enables one to get the “cinch” positions. If one is well known
and favorably thought of, it is an easy matter to reach the hospital
or to “beat” the contract. Favoritism so practiced is the bane of all
such institutions. It engenders the belief in the convict that it
isn’t the fact of his crime that counts, but its enormity. He sees the
bank-wrecker, convicted of misappropriating the life savings of the
poor, come to the prison with a paltry sentence of a few years. Though
the sum stolen reaches into the thousands, the sentence is only a third
or a fourth of his for a much smaller crime. He sees the big thief
enjoying the run of the institution, with no contract work, or work in
some clerical position. The partiality breeds discontent and generates
the poison of society hatred in the being of the minor criminal. The
little crook tries to become a big crook, and in this manner the ranks
of the underworld are further recruited.
The contract system in vogue at the institution was vicious to the
extreme. It was the cause of most of the discontent found there. It was
the source of all the numerous petty disturbances. Although I know of
no prisoner being severely punished for noncompletion of task assigned,
I do know of punishment inflicted elsewhere. Most wardens say, if you
ask them, that they expect but one half to one fourth of an outside
man’s output or ability. This assertion isn’t worth the time taken
to read it. I have found universally true in all prisons where the
contract system is in force that the prisoner is expected and compelled
to do the equal of an outside man’s output, and in some cases more than
that. I shall dwell more at length on this phase of the question in my
later chapters.
On entering the institution, after bathing, having my hair clipped, and
donning the red-and-white striped suit, I was sent to the receiving
wing. Here the convicts are locked up until assigned to work. Each
morning I was called to the door of my cell and stood for a close
inspection of my physical capacity. My hands were examined for strength
and pliability. I was made to bend my knees without touching hands to
the floor. My mouth was inspected and heart tested. I was an animal
being offered for sale to the highest bidder. My weight was asked and
age investigated. Everyone seemed satisfied with my physical condition,
but they failed to hire me because of my defective eyesight. Old-timers
advised me to “beat the contract,” to simulate a condition of the eyes,
worse than they really were. I took the advice for what it was worth
and played it to the limit. None of the contractors would have me. The
doctor examined me thoroughly, and found me possessed of a bad case of
myopia.
I was assigned to State work and did odd jobs about the institution.
I soon tired of this, however, and made application to be sent out on
contract. I was assigned to the shoe contract, and began my work there
by sewing buttons on women’s shoes.
All my life I have been restless. The thought of staying at one
position for any considerable time was enough in itself to make me long
for a change. I played my sight against the position and won out. I was
given work at polishing the bottoms of shoes. This suited me to a T. It
was one of the cinch jobs of the contract, and I was mighty lucky to
get it. It was my sight that got it, not I.
For an hour each day I could exercise in the yard, a privilege
denied to those who worked. I stayed at this work until I left the
institution, some six months later. When I did leave I knew about as
much of the shoe business as I did when I started, and that was nothing
at all. So much for the argument that the contract system is conducive
to trade-learning.
The day finally came for my discharge. I was dressed in a suit of
shoddy material worth about five dollars. I was given the magnificent
sum of four dollars and left to shift for myself. This brings to light
another reason why so many men return to the underworld. They have
been incarcerated for a long number of years. Friends and home are all
gone. The money given them is soon used. There is no one to whom they
can turn, so they return to the places where the criminals meet. It’s
not natural that they should starve, and they have too much pride to
beg. They see an opportunity to get some easy money and they take the
chance; the chance more than often proves a fall. Another step is thus
taken in the making of the habitual criminal.