The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-08-12
THE EDUCATED CONVICT
A personal EXPERIENCE OF PRIS-
ON LIFE ny A MAN OF CULTURE.
He Suffers ASonies that the Brutal
Prisoner Knows Nothing OF. hut His
Refinement Also Aids Him.
The Outlook.

The Outlook
When a man of gentle education. who has
never dreamed that such an evil as being
convicted of crime could befall him. ar
rives in prison. he reminds himself of one
of those trembling shades of his classical
reading who awaited the unknown on the
shores of the Styx. His coming has been
timed by night, out of Difference for that
poor thing. his pride. and his reception by
the deputy keeper is not unkindly.
We've been looking for you for week
past says that official. Hospitality. Let
me see, you got five years. didn't you?
Well, that means three years and seven
months-forty-three months all told. 1t
will soon go by. Why. we have men COM
ing back here regularly who would look
on that mere fly speck. They call this
place a playhouse you know. I'll just
lock you in one of the detention cells to-
night. and tomorrow I'll rig you out and
find you some easy job. Don't brood, don't
look back; just take things they are.
Why. in eighteen months or so you may
be pardoned Come this way will you?"
This way leads into a lofty oblong build
ing. dimly lighted. In the center rises
solid buttress of stone and iron. composed
on either side of the long rows of cells.
five tiers high. Around this is wide cor
ridor. and then the whitewashed walls cut
by tall, barred windows. At first breath
the arrival realizes his doom. The
stencil enlightens him. 1t fingers on his
tongue, it Dermeates his blood, IT contain
mates his being. oh. what must the life
be when its very atmosphere reeks of filth
and shame!
The detention cell proves to be on the
lowest row. There is the shooting of
bar the turning of key. You'll find
some water in that tim says the deputy.
Good night" And then the grated door
closes. and the new man is alone in cold,
narrow. dismal hole in the wall IN which
the double bunked bed of gaspiDe frame
yields scarce enough room to turn around.
side: the hail man in the adjoining cells
are vanly seeking to satisfy their curios-
ity. There comes. too, prolonged Mss,
How long did you git, Jack?" followed
by the night watchmans stealthy tread
and fash of lantern: Then settles the nor,
NAL quiet of the prison night, not tranquil
nor continuous. From one tier resounds
groan; from another laugh, far more
horrible. Hsrk to that pacing to and fro.
from the cell of one who is going mad.
whose screams before morning will send
him to a strait-jacket in the hospital ward.
Up from the tagged corridor comes a sud
den chill; down from the tiers circles the
foul air. There are blasts of biting
draughts from the side windows. followed
clinging TO the bars stands the new arrival,
inertly watching the creep of insects along
corners, until a. light as pale and as for
lorn the whitewash breaks through the
dingy panes. and the heavy steps of the
unwashed kitchen-gang on the stairs an
nounce the advent of a prison day.
THE WORST SHOCK.
;- 10 e.
in the newcomers mind as the acme of
terror and degradation. Beyond it lies
monotonous waste. There is surprise.
there is shock; in every sound. Now a
mailman thrusts through the grating pam
nikins containing coffee made of burnt
crust and an unwhoesome mosaic supposed
to be head-cheese. Now n sharp-eyed Of
ficer marches by with book and slate Now
a gong clangs the bolts snap back. He
watches with stupefaction the hurrying
lines of convicts What an acrid dust they
raise with their heavy brogans, what a
hideouS conglomeration they form OF every
thing coarse, .uncouth, and vile. as they
jostle along. ill-shapen, grimy malodorous
chewing tobacco and emitting a hum OF
curses, 1eers and outlaws. Each one looks
In. winking or whispering, and II seems to
him as II but one man had passed and was
continually repassing. little of individu-
ality is he able 10 detect. Thence comes
the terror. Will his personal self, for
which, Notwithstanding misfortune or crime
he has retained certain respect, ever con-
form to this type? Oh. what can he do
on: what Will he not do. to avoid such a
With the deputy comes the degradation.
Inc new man Is taken to the barber shop.
WI wh1re other neophytes, sullen, ugly. tin1id
or hysterlcal, are awaiting initiation. He
receives bath and the very thought that
he Is supposed to need one seems an excess
OF ignominy: his hair is cropped with great
morse dinners he rd iG In anla Il
haggled. the convict barber good naturally
trying TO instill foul bravado the while; he
dons the striped suit. i'll fitting. insufficient,
and casts one glance at himself in the bit
OF glass. Yes, the worst that could happen
has happened He is no longer a citizen, a
man-but convict, a thing removed from
the sympathy of kindred or the notice of
humanity.
The deputy now shows our convict to a
cell. Fortunate for him if the prison pop
ulation is decreasing and he be allowed 10
share his misery with himself alone; for
tunate for him if from the debasing assoc
citation by day he has not to dread more
evil companionship at night Then he pair
proceed TO the shoDs-a scene of confusion
and distraction to the newcomer. Here the
Dust Is Lying from the whir of machinery
over the manufacture of pals; there
benchful after benchful hammerng
away on shoes; and. beyond. the sewing
machines are clicking for dear life. And
the men so intently engaged have they
any more mind soul than the tools and
the gearings? The deputy. true to his
RES away to start some other unfortunate
In the prison life.
A DAY OF HORROR.
The day seems an endless dream to our
convict; he is stunned incapable of con-
nected thought. and automatically repeat
ing to himself. only forty-three months,
all told" Keepers and inmates alike mer-
cifully ignore him. He may bungle with
his task as he will, but no one Will GEN.
sure. His apathy. which is really period
OF Incubation, is fully recognized in prison.
When the whistle blows, some rough hand
draws him into his place in line. some
grun voice, tobacco-sprayed, mutJers.
you'll feel better tomorrow, jack" and
then, like wounded beast, he creeps into
his cell. No watchfunesS now. The dark
is welcome; would that it might last for
ever: for suspense is gone, and an end has
what then remains? Rest. He throws
himself on the straw pallet. with face to
the WALL despite the noise. the filth, the
vermin, the stencil he sleeps as one with
out hope; and when he awakes ii is unto
submission.
The following day becomes a type of the
life. link in an endless chain OF routine.
Our convict soon appreciates what is
pected OF him, and how to do ii. Each
sound has its Significance, each hour Is
associated with duty. The round of eat
ing working, eating, working, eating.
sleeping. becomes so familiar that he could
fulfill his part with his ewes shut. His
of his brain. but IL lacks interest and val
ue. What else remains? In this Creary
barrenness. how can he keep his mind un-
impaired. his sensibilities from becoming