Board of Control's Room, where Monthly Meetings are Held
After the operation of taking the new arrival's finger-imprints is completed, and instructions are given as to prison discipline, etc., the incoming prisoner is sent to the medical department, where he is given a thorough physical examination, and if he is affected with any disease it is noted in a book kept expressly for that purpose. If he needs medical attention he is told to come up to the “sick-call” in the forenoon at nine o'clock. All ailing prisoners can attend this call each morning.
THE PRISONER IS ASSIGNED WORK
By this time the new arrival is, in all probability, wondering what will happen next, but he is soon enlightened. Work in one of the various departments will be assigned him, for instance, presuming that the shop where he is to be employed is the twine factory, he is turned over to the guard of that particular shop. This officer instructs him very minutely as to shop rules and duties that will devolve upon him, and usually accompanies his instructions with some good, sound advice as to how to best get along with the least possible trouble. The shop foreman now takes him in charge and instructs him how to perform the duties required of him.
At the noon hour he must take off his apron, wash his hands and face in a bucket of water placed conveniently near the shop runner, and when the guard blows another sharp blast with his whistle form in line with the other men and prepare to march to the dining room. He is now assigned a place in the ranks of his shop crew and told to always “fall in” at his place. The guard stamps his cane twice on the floor and the men begin to march to dinner.
At first the “fresh fish” makes quite a number of mistakes: In the dining room he is somewhat bewildered as to how to make his wants known to the waiters, as he has been told that talking is strictly forbidden, but upon reading the rules in the library catalogue he easily comprehends the silent method of asking for food. If he wishes bread he must hold up his right hand; meat, his fork; soup, his spoon; vegetables, his table knife; coffee, his cup, and for water, the rule is to hold up the cup inverted. This form of the sign language is fully adequate for the situation.
THE FIRST NIGHT IN HIS CELL
At the close of the first day's work the prisoner is marched to his cell. Just inside the entrance to the cell house he is handed his supper in a tin dish, goes to his cell, previously assigned to him, and remains standing with his right hand on the cell door until the evening count of the number of prisoners in the institution has been verified by the deputy warden. If the count is correct the prisoners are notified by the sounding of a gong near the desk of the cellhouse captain, at which signal they are permitted to sit down and amuse themselves as they see fit. Immediately after the ringing of the gong [pg 25 ] the gallery men pass around tea for the prisoner's evening meal in addition to what he received when he enters the cellhouse.
Our subject now has an opportunity to take a glance at the cell wherein he must spend his “little bit” as the professional crook jocularly terms his sentence. This apartment is not commodious nor supplied with modern improvements of a first-class hostelry; its dimensions are five by seven, and contains: one Bible, two cups, one small mirror, one cuspidor, one spoon, one face towel, one dish towel, one piece of soap, one comb, blankets, sheets, pillow cases, matress, bedstead and springs, one wooden chair (for first and second grade), one earthen water jar with cover, one electric light, one small shelf, one library catalogue and all the library and school books desired. If the occupant is of a philosophical bent of mind he will now realize that the way of the transgressor is indeed hard. The first month or two are the most severe upon the new arrival. His environments force him to dwell continually upon the depths of degradation to which he has fallen, and he suffers the keenest possible mental torture; but after passing this period he begins to readjust his viewpoint and adapt himself to his surroundings and then calmly awaits the termination of his sentence. Few people have any conception of what the first offender endures during his first few months' imprisonment; the thoughts of his jeopardized liberty are ever before him. In summing up and planning for the future about the worst obstacle he fears,—the quintessence of human degradation,—is the baleful word “ex-convict.” That alone hurled at the public through the medium of the public press expresses the sum total of moral turpitude and degeneracy. No matter if [pg 26] the individual in question is pure-minded, the symbol of the culture of the age in which he lives, the hyphenated word “ex-convict” seems to conjure in the minds of the public a picture that causes them to shudder with fear for their safety. As a rule this fear is not shared in by prison officials. Only about ten per cent of the inmates cause them any anxiety, the rest are orderly, perform their work promptly and properly, and cause as little trouble as possible.