, 1889-12-14
THE STAINLESS STRIPES.
A REPORTERS RAMeLE THROUGH A
GEORGIA CONVICT CAMP.
A Large Brick Making Concern-How tho
Prisoner. Are Worked, Fed and Guard
ed-The Sweat Boz for Disorderlies-Bet-
ter Grub Than Many Were Used To.

ter Grub Than Many Were Used To-
Nestled in the vale of the Chattahoo-
chez is a village of something over 200
inhabitants.
OF these, 1856 are under the ban of the
law, and, like the Israelites of old, are
making bricks for the mighty piles in
the populous cities of the land.
From the mountains of West Virginia
to .'Tampa's desert strand" you may
find these bricks, and the finger prints
upon them are made by the clasp of the
hands of felons.
Wearied of the common c-ussedness of
the police station, the Nighthawk hied
him away to this village by the river to
spend an hour among the ~starless stripes
of a Georgia convict camp.
Capt. Woodruff, the superintendent,
was found, and showed the visitor
through the works.
There are 1856, about 10 per cent.
whites, and among the number of
negroes, twenty-five women.
Everything is life and activity. Some
are engaged in hauling clay from the
clay fields several miles down the river;
others are manipulating the dirt through
the two machines that prepare it for the
mill; a deal and dumb man was shovel
ing it into the hopper and several were
taking out the bricks.
Fifty bricks a minute is the record of
one of these
"a X BATH"
''Step in there" said Capt. Woodruff,
land you can see how it works"
The unsuspecting newspaper man
stepped inside.
Slami
The darkness was palpable. The air
was s~uffocating.
Wonder if this is a practical joke"
thought the prisoner, as he gasped for
breath and reached out his hand in
search of something to hold on to. The
sweat broke out on face and hands, and
just her the door was raised and the
Nighthawk scrambled out with feelings
of relief indescribable.
THAT is what we call a Turkish bath,
and we give the boys one occasionally"
remarked Capt. Woodruff, with a smile.
Out of these dryers busy hands were
trundling bricks to the big kilns."
Seventy-two varieties of ornamental
and pressed brick, besides the common
grades, are made here, and the beautiful
twin Corliss engines go whirling around,
rain or shine, all the livelong day.
The farm attached to the works con-
sists OF many acres of river bottom, and
here are grown hundreds of bushels Of
corn, many tons of hay, barrels of sor-
ghum sriup and vegetables innumerable.
Collards, cabbages, rutabages and
white turnips are grown OIL the rich
slopes for the maintenance of the con-
victs.
Fat pigs are raised on the refuse and
ten big uddered mich cows Craze on the
meadows. This is the farmer side Of the
subject, and on farms many of the hands
are kept constantly employed.
What goes with the crops2
Well, you see, each and every convict
is a man with an appetite. He may loose
his character, sacrifice his reputation and
consign his rights and franchises as a
citizen to the dingnation bow-wows, but
he retains his appetite, and the longer he
remains the more robust becomes his
capacity in that line.
The way they fatten up is frequently
proved by weighing them when they
come in and at intervals afterward. The
increase shows how rapidly they grow
and thrive.
CHAINGANG GRUB.
Far be it from me to try and induce any
respectable citizen to emigrate to Chatta-
hoochee, and when / speak of its attrac-
lions l do it without hope of reward, fear
Of punishment or any of the motives that
cause real estate men and boomers to
p%revaricate.
But when 1 walked into the kitchen
and got a sniff of the grub that the wom-
en- were cooking, 1 tell you I had to choke
down a sob.
And 1 got SO hungry and stayed so
hungry that when l got back to Bolton,
in the cleaning. the first thing I did was
to buy a box of sardines.
But this is a depression.
Some of the women attend to the
cooking, and the big bake oven turns out
loaf after loaf Of corn bread, from nice
sifted meal, which, when broken into
''pones," reminds one of the old planta-
ton kitchen. A big caldron is filled
with vegetables and wholesome bacon,
and set a-boiling.
The tin dinner pals are washed clean
and in each is placed the materials for a
square meal, and these are passed to the
convicts as they come in from their
work. Each one takes his pail and car
ries it with him into the stockade, where
he eats as he pleases.
The rations are three quarters of a
pound of bacon a day, bread and vege-
tables, with strip ad libitum.
If "Oliver Twist wants more" he gets
it, and no complaint of short rations is
heard among them.
At noon ten gallons of fresh milk are
dispensed among them every day. Twice