“People who come to our institution sometimes ask, What is the best thing you have done? In making reply I do not point to any material thing. I call attention to the bankruptcy court. It has relieved us of embarrassment, strengthened our discipline, opened the door of hope, extracted the teeth of criticism. It has done wonders in this direction. I had a talk with one of those sinister, embittered boys one day. He was sullen, not personally insolent to me, except in a degree unconsciously, and I said to him, ‘I am thinking, my boy, of that good day coming when you will do just the opposite.’ He said, ‘Why do you think that day will ever come?’ ‘Simply because you have sense enough in your head; it is sure to come. You are not so bad. You fancy you are a bad fellow. You are bad enough for all practical purposes, but you are not so bad as you think. All you have to do is to turn around. You are a six-cylinder fellow. You have force and will, and you have obstinacy and lots of other things you ought not to have, and when you turn around, then we are going to have one of the best boys instead of the worst.’ He said, ‘You cannot make the officers of this institution believe I would turn around.’ I said, ‘No, but you and I can make them believe it, not I, but you and I, and I shall expect it some day.’ After six weeks there came this letter from him: ‘I have turned around, but in doing so I’m face to face with a hopeless lot of demerits, and I therefore appeal for the benefit of the bankruptcy court.’ He was working in the right direction. I would not take the time to tell you his career afterwards. It was all I hoped for.
“The third type that requires special methods of discipline is the sinister ‘smart Aleck.’ A boy of this type came to me in a very insolent way and said, ‘I am a worse man than when I came.’ I replied: ‘I have talked to you often, and for the first time your opinion coincides with mine. I believe you are, as you declare, a worse boy than when you came.’ He said, ‘What is the good of a reformatory?’ I was sorely puzzled how to deal with that boy. I said to him, ‘Do you think a place makes a man good or bad?’ ‘This place has made me bad. No reformatory reforms anybody.’ ‘My boy, do you believe heaven is a good place. Do you think the rules and regulations reasonable up there?’ He replied, ‘I expect so.’ ‘Do you not know that one of the excellent but opinionated inhabitants of that place got out of tune with it, found fault with the management, created dissatisfaction among the weaker angels and created no end of trouble, and the Creator had to provide another place? Do you know the identity of this trouble maker?’ ‘Yes, the devil.’ ‘Do you know where he is?’ ‘Yes, in hell.’ ‘He is not in hell all the time, as long as you feel as you do now.’
“After a little further discussion he was asked if he saw the point of the illustration. He said he guessed he saw where he was headed for, according to the example I had held up for him. I then showed him what a privilege it is to be able to profit from the example of those who have made a failure rather than to share their experiences. He thereupon threw aside his cynicism and admitted in the most candid way that he had been irritable and ugly and expected to be punished, but that my patience, taken with the illustration, had made him feel differently, and that he would demonstrate to me that he was not the devil or his accomplice, nor would he be a trouble maker. He on more than one occasion later referred to the fact that the devil had been a saving agency in his reformation.
“The cynical fellow is apt to have sufficient intellect to which to make successful appeal. I think of a prison as simply a fulcrum for the lever of reformatory effort. By the sentence of the court confining these two young men heretofore referred to, I was afforded the fulcrum to bring to bear the right kind of discipline.
“The next type calling for special discipline is the outrageous fellow. I have asked myself what reason there is in psychology, in humanity or in common sense for making a prison a silent tomb. How can we hope to socialize young men by denying them communication by speech? If a man refuses to talk or laugh, incipient insanity is at once suspected. With these thoughts in mind, I thought I would do away with the rule requiring silence in the dining room. Hoary-headed tradition forbade it; prison administrators in whose wisdom I have the greatest confidence questioned it; but I was impelled to try it. All went well until one day the ‘outrageous fellow’ referred to was brought to court charged with quarreling with his neighbor at table, hurling a large porcelain bowl of tea into his opponent’s face, slightly burning him and cutting an ugly gash in his head. The most serious offense, however, was creating a condition in a crowded dining room favorable to riot. It was the opinion of our officers that he should be severely punished, their idea of punishment including the infliction of bodily pain. I agreed that he deserved whipping, but reminded the officers that this world was not entirely established on the basis of desert; that the best of us had little claim to heaven on that basis. We did not whip him, not because he did not deserve it, but because we owed it to him and to the institution to do that thing that would most positively quicken the moral sense and create a wholesome public sentiment. Calling him up, I told him that he had put me to shame; that he had justified all my critics who said that I would get into trouble by allowing the boys to talk at the table; that he was the only one out of a thousand that failed to appreciate what had been done for him. ‘Now,’ I said to him, ‘$1’ This method, I believe, had the approval of practically every inmate of the institution. The boy himself said that he would rather be whipped, as he felt that he had been whipped every time he came into the dining room and turned his back to the other inmates; they would all feel that he was unfit to be with them. After three weeks he made full amends and was allowed to join his fellows, and never gave trouble afterwards.
“Another closely allied to this chap is the rebellious man. All prison men will agree that of the troublesome prisoners the rebellious man must be most promptly and effectually dealt with. I have friends who are my superiors in knowledge and wisdom who favor corporal punishment or handcuffs or the dark cell. I would not have a dark cell in the institution. Instead, I make the punishment cell lighter than any other. Why? That is not based on sentiment. If a bear wants to hibernate he hunts the dark cave. If you and I want rest we want the hours of darkness. If the creeping things of the earth want to get rest and dull their sensibilities they hunt a board or a log. The light is the most stimulating thing in all the world, and what I want to do with the rebellious inmate is to put him in a light cell. I want to stimulate him. Our reflection chambers are large, light and airy and so arranged that the occupants can smell every dinner that is cooked and hear the band and the boys playing ball. It gets to be uncomfortable and they want out and they want out badly. What is the result? They go to the deputy and say they are wrong and want to start new. If you whip a boy in prison he will suffer martyrdom if he can but have one admiring onlooker. But when you take a fool’s audience away, in prison or out, he loses the stimulation of his vanity. When he leaves our discipline department he cannot swagger that he endured this thing or that, because every person knows that there is only one way to regain his place among his fellows, and that is by the promise to conform. No handcuffs have been used in the Ohio State Reformatory for seven years. Our correction cells, known in the institution as ‘reflection chambers,’ have been all-sufficient.”
In the discussion which followed Mr. Leonard made the following additional remarks on the method of parole followed in his institution:
“The boys in our institution are eligible to parole after serving one year, but not before. When they are eligible, as laid down by law, they are presented by the superintendent and chaplain jointly to the Board of Managers for consideration. The Board of Managers has organized with a committee of six to meet from one to two days before the meeting and go over carefully the examination of the papers in each individual case. They make their findings separately and then bring them up and compare notes and get together. They then present their report added to that of the full board and the papers are gone over. Each boy is brought in and given a chance to make a personal plea. I believe that every boy has a right to make whatever impression he can on the board before they pass on his parole. After parole has been granted he cannot be released until there is a place of employment for him. We have regularly engaged, well-trained field workers who are also employment agents. If a boy cannot get employment we find it for him. They go out on parole for not less than a year, sometimes more. Occasionally we have a boy who asks for longer time for peculiar reasons, but usually not. He makes monthly reports to the superintendent, and our field officers visit him once a month until the expiration of the year. The field officer makes a report to the Board of Managers; then he is discharged and the governor issues a certificate to that effect.”
EVENING SESSION
At the evening session Mrs. Maud Ballington Booth delivered one of her characteristic and inspiring addresses, after which the congress adjourned, to meet at Seattle in the fall of 1909.