Within the cellhouse building there are 664 cells, ranged tier upon tier, there being six in all. The building is constructed entirely of iron and stone, and the walls are nearly three feet thick. It is safe to say that in this solidly built building more human sorrow is represented than anywhere else in the state. If an authentic record could be made of the tragedies that take place behind these grim, unsympathetic stone walls it would fill volumes. However, it would require the enviable intellect of a Victor Hugo or Charles Read to vividly picture the utter despair and blasted hopes of the many thousands who have been imprisoned within these cheerless walls since the construction of the building. It is absolutely fireproof, but quite antiquated, the sanitation and ventilation being extremely poor. About fifteen prisoners are employed in the cell house, sweeping cells, galleries, passing out water, holystoning the flags in the corridor and keeping the place as clean as possible. Two men are constantly employed in whitewashing the cells and the interior of the cell house, and another's time is wholly occupied in exterminating bedbugs, which are quite plentiful and possess large appetites.
The captain makes a tour of the galleries each morning and inspects each cell to see that everything is in order. If a cell floor or other articles are in a slovenly condition the inmate is reported to the deputy warden, whose duty it is to administer a reprimand for negligence. While making this four of inspection he delivers all incoming letters addressed to prisoners. All incoming and outgoing mail is carefully scrutinized before delivery. On Sunday morning material for writing letters [pg 74] is issued to all prisoners who are permitted to write, and the distribution of tobacco is also made at this time. The upper tiers of the galleries used to be the rendezvous for inmates possessing suicidal inclinations, not a few of whom, having lost all courage and lacking the determination to live, chose this method of ending their woes. We use the words “used to be” advisedly, for they have ceased to be an attraction to the death-desiring since the failure to accomplish the result occurred to an inmate who a short time ago took the plunge from the upper tier. In an hour or so he was at work as if nothing unusual had happened. Heretofore a plunge from the upper tiers to the stone flags always meant a call for the undertaker.
Cellhouse, Looking East
Prison Band
Spinning Room In Twine Factory looking West.
Spinning Room In Twine Factory looking East.