CONTRACT LABOR
The question of what to do with the prisoner during the period of his
confinement has always been a difficult one. The system of leasing the
labor of the prisoner to the highest bidder, up to a few years ago, was
common in the different States. It was an easy solution to an intricate
problem, and the State, looking only at the present, gave its assent
to the method. It is a system particularly slavish in its workings,
dehumanizing to the men working under it, and the source of most of the
brutality found in penal institutions.
In the prison where I was, the contractor paid the large sum of
fifty-five cents for the labor of each man per day. This sum included
rent, heat, power, and insurance on the building. The product turned
out entered into competition with the product of free labor, having
the tendency to lower the price of the competing article, and, in turn,
lowering the wage of the free laborer. All this is done not for the
good of society at large, but for the particular aggrandizement of a
few individuals. These individuals, in most cases, come into the State
from the outside; they pay no taxes and bring into the State no assets
beneficial to the people at large. They engage this contract labor
at insignificant prices, and force the product of this labor on the
free market. This in itself is unfair to the employer of free labor
who brings into the State assets beneficial to all. The latter pays
taxes and contributes toward the upkeep of the State. His manufactory
attracts laborers who eventually become citizens. His weekly pay roll
spreads and makes itself felt among numerous businesses, which in turn
also contribute toward the support of the State and city. On the face
of it, is it not manifestly unfair to the employer of free men to be
forced to compete with the product of the prison contractor?
This is only the economic side of the question. The moral side of it
is seen in the fact that the system tends to debauch all those who
come in contact with it. It dehumanizes the prisoners, leaving them
without hope or reward. It hardens the sensibilities of the guards
watching over them. Wherever the system is in vogue there will be found
brutality rampant. If the prisoner is unable to do his allotted task,
punishment is resorted to to force him.
Wardens of all such institutions will tell you that the tasks assigned
to the prisoner are much less than the average product of the free
laborer, but I have found it universally true that the tasks assigned
equal, and in some cases exceed the output of the free man. The
prisoner is given thirty days to become proficient in his work. After
that time he is expected to do his task each day. For the first lapse
he will be warned, for the second a light punishment will be given
him. If he continues unable to perform it, some severe punishment is
meted out to him. For instance, I have seen a prisoner strung up by
his thumbs for the noncompletion of the task, and left this way for a
period of three hours. Can you imagine the feelings of this man toward
society and the State after going through this experience?
The prison in which I spent my last confinement was unique among
contract-labor prisons. In this one the prisoner was at least given
a chance to earn a little money for his own use. Not all, but there
were a few among the many who were able, by heartrending toil, to do a
little over their daily task. For this overwork the prisoner was paid
by the contractor at the prevailing rates, fifty-five cents a task. The
amount of money earned by the man would average about three dollars a
month. Of course a great many of the men would earn absolutely nothing.
A few earned a sum exceeding the average. This same overwork money has
been the stumbling-block to the institution of any reforms in this
same prison. Any criticism leveled at the institution itself or the
system in vogue at the prison, would be met by bringing forth these
same overtime earnings. The sum in the aggregate appeared large, but
to one wise in the law of averages the amount shown but proved its
insignificance. From the books of this same institution it has been
shown that the average amount taken out by the men discharged has been
under two dollars. What a munificent sum with which to begin a new life!
I believe it is Emerson who says “that every institution is but the
lengthened shadow of a single man.” This prison proved the assertion of
the sage. I shall call the warden Thomas, for that is as far from his
real name as any I can think of. His later years have been touched by
a great deal of sorrow, and I am not inclined to burden his remaining
days with a constant repetition of his shortcomings. I have mentioned
the fact before that he was possessed of an executive ability of a high
order. The institution was run like clockwork. Like cogs well turned
to an exact fit, every wheel of the prison worked without jar or lost
motion. He was distant from both the guard and the prisoner. His every
effort was bent to the turning over to the State of a surplus, which
he did yearly. The food served to the inmates was of a type both poor
in quality and deficient in quantity. I have come away from the table
on many occasions hungry. The washing of our clothes was never rightly
done. The warden knew the soap cost money. We were allowed two ounces
of soap for ourselves once a month; if that were not sufficient for our
use, of course we had the privilege of buying it ourselves. Imagine two
ounces of soap lasting a man a month?
Gladstone said that he could tell the civilization of a nation by the
amount of soap its inhabitants used. Imagine yourself the civilization
made possible by this warden.
The State was supposed to clothe the men in its prisons. In this one,
however, most of the men clothed themselves. Outside of the suit of
stripes it was usual for all of us to provide for our own wearing
apparel. We also paid for our shaves and haircuts. We could have worn
the ill-smelling clothes the State handed out to us if we had desired.
But payment for our haircut was absolutely imperative. If we failed to
pay, we went shorn of hirsute adornment. Of course all of this went
toward adding to the yearly surplus of the warden.
Another instance of the viciousness of the contract system was that it
kept the prisoner confined long after his sentence expired. There were
a certain number of days allowed off a sentence for good behavior. Each
prisoner was an asset to the contractor. It was a question of dollars
and cents with him. If the man nearing the completion of the sentence
happened to fall short of his task or to transgress one of the many
rules of the institution, time would be added to his sentence. That is,
a part of his good time. In my confinement of over seven years I found
it a rare occasion for any man to be turned out at the completion of
his good time. Of course this but put into the minds of the prisoners
the thought that the prison was run for the special benefit of the
prison contractor. I know absolutely that a contractor asked the
warden to hold a certain man beyond his good time, and the warden did
it. You may say that such an instance would not happen with every
warden. It is not the fact that it happens that makes the system so
outrageous, but the fact that it can happen.
The physician of this prison for seventeen years had trouble with the
warden about excusing men unable to perform their work. The warden
wanted them in their shops; he said that what they needed was not
so much a doctor as a club. The physician, supposing that he knew
his calling, disagreed with the warden and brought the matter to the
attention of the Board of Directors. The Board sided with the warden,
and the physician lost his place. This man then went before the State
medical board and charged the warden with no less than murder. The
press of the State, instead of demanding an investigation, almost
without exception characterized the charge as absurd. They charged,
and perhaps charged rightly, that if such abuses existed in a prison
in the time of this incumbency, it was his duty to begin to inform
the people at that time, not to wait till he had been ousted from
his place, to begin. Some few months after this incident a man was
appointed as guard from one of the southern counties. On his first day
of work he was directed by the warden to string up a prisoner for some
minor infraction of the rules. He refused. Another guard willingly
did the work, the former guard witnessing the punishment. The sight
of the brutality so sickened him that he then and there handed in his
resignation. He informed one of the papers of the city in which the
prison was situated, and this paper began a quiet investigation of the
fact. Numerous discharged prisoners told of their experiences, former
guards supplemented this testimony. The press of the State took notice,
some of them demanding an investigation from the governor. In the
meantime the Board of Directors of the prison met and exonerated the
warden of all the charges laid against him. Finally the governor did
appoint a commission to investigate and they began work immediately.
This committee found the warden guilty of petty grafting, of brutal
treatment of the prisoners under him, and recommended the abolition of
the contract-labor system. A few months before the rendering of this
verdict the warden resigned.