, 1910-07-07
CHAPTER XIII.

In the very heart of Manhattan, right
in the center Of the city's most con,
gested district, an imposing edifice
of gray stone, medieval in its style of
architecture, lowered high above all
the surrounding dingy offices and
squalid tenements. It's massive con
struction, steep walls. pointed ~turrets,
raised %parapets and long. narrow, slit
like windows, heavily barred, gave It
the aspect of a feudal fortress incon.
gruously set down plumb in the midst
of twentieth century New York. The
dull roar of Broadway hummed a
couple of blocks away; in the distance
doomed the lofty. graceful spans of
Brooklyn bridge, jammed with its op,
posing streams of busy interurban
traffic. The adjacent streets were
filled with the din of h%urrying crowds.
the rattle of vehicles, the cries of ven
doris, the clang OF street cars. the ugh!
ughl OF speeding automobiles. The ac-
tive, pulsattng life of the metropolis
surged like q rising flood about the
tall gray walls, yet there was no re-
spouse within. Grim, silent. sinister,
the city prison, popularity known as
'the Tombs," seemed to have nothing
in common with the daily activities Of
the big town In which, notwithstand-
ing, 1t unhappily played an important
part.
The present prison is a vastly diff
ferent place to the old Jail from
which 1t got its melancholy cognomen.
To-day there is not the slightest JUST.
fication for the lugubrious epithet ap,
piled to 1t. but in the old days, when
mans inhumanity to man was less a
form of speech than a cold, merciless
fact. the "Tombs" described an intol-
cradle and disgraceful condition fairly
accurately. Formerly the cells in
which the unfortunate prisoners were
confined while awaiting trial were sit.
uated deep under ground and had mel.
ther light nor ventilation. A man
might be guiltless of the offense with
which he was charged, yet while
awaiting an opportunity to prove his
innocence he was condemned to spend
days. sometimes months. in what vas
little better than a grave. Literally,
he was buried alive. A party of for,
eigners visiting the prison one day
were startled at seeing human beings
confined in such holes. They look
like tombs!' cried some one. New
York was amused at the ~singularly
appropriate appellative and it has
stuck to the prison ever since.
But times change and Institutions
with them. AS man becomes more
civilized he treats the Iawbreaker
with more humanity. Probably soci-
ETY. will always need its prisoners.
but as we become more enlightened
we insist Oh treating our criminals
more from the physiological and psy-
Geological standpoints thar in the
cruel, brutal, barbarous manner of the
dark ages. In other words the sociol-
ogist insists that the lawbreaker has
greater need of the physician than he
has of the jailer.
To-day the city prison is a tomb
In name only. II is admirably con-
structed commodic' well ventilated.
The cells are large and well lighted.
with comfortable cots and all the
modern sanitary arrangements. There
are roomy corridors for daily exercise
NV IOuS SbpMtI DdlllS can ne Cd
tanned free for the asking. There are
chapels for the religiously inclined
and n library for the studious. The
food is wholesome and well prepared
in a large, scrupulously clean kitchen
situated on the top floor. Carping
have, indeed. declared the
Tombs to be too luxurious. declaring
that habitual criminals enjoy a STAY
at the prison and actually commit
crime so that they may enjoy some of
its hotel-like comforts.
II was with a sinking heart and a
dull, gnawing sense of apprehension
that Annie descended from a south
bound Madison avenue car in Center
street and approached the small por.
tai under the f%orbidding gray walls.