United labor bulletin., 1913-10-25

destroy has not become stoically mad
by the prison treatment already re-
ceived, he becomes in the face of
death, frantically helpless. We begin
to destroy his soul first by alcohol.
70 carry him out and place him in the
chair by force could not be thought Of
The tragedy would be farce without
a good actor. Dazed by the curse, and
with our aid which brought him there,
he faces his spiritual comforters, who
for a consideration are willing to re-
turn evil for evil. They are there to
ask mercy on his wicked soul. won
der who will grant us, all of us, mercy
on that day.
1 expressed a deep wish to see the
punishment cells, and although the
warden had declared that could not
be done, but as no law stood in the
way, he finally yielded. Calling the
turnkey of that part of the bastile,
who opened a solid iron door, we were
in large cell which contained six
smaller cells a little larger than
grave, and absolutely barren. The
only means of light and ventilation
was window apparently opening
from very deep and narrow shaft
which let in just light enough to al
low one to see to move about out
side the small, solitary confinement
cells, which are utterly dark. That
one window could be easily closed
putting the place in total darkness.
Conscious again of our prison spirit;
haven't the slightest doubt but it is
done, and for days. Each of the in
dividual cells, but one, held its vic
tim and that too would be quickly
filled. The bars of these punishment
cells were just far enough apart to
put ones fingers through; and l shall
never forget the glimpse l caught of
their skeleton, starving fingers. In
those cells it is night, always night.
In great many of these punish
ment and third degree cells in many
of our penitentiaries- and city and
county jails, they are absolutely
closed up, and let in just air enough to
torture man by keeping him alive,
often by an inner tube If this was
all, but it isn't. They are starving
him to death at the same time One
might ask, How long is he kept in
there?' Just as long as some brutal
ignorant warden, superintendent, guard
or turnkey has a mind to keep him,
from one week to one year.
In my Investigations l have gained
the confidence of many ex-convicts,
which | never could have done only
by telling them, l too, had been in
prison. One of these instances was
the story told me by man while
sitting in Independent Square in Phil
adelphia, which verifies the statement
of John B. Johnson in his book,
Buried Alive" He told me of his
punishment in the dungeon punish
ment CELL He said, after the third
day my body was filled with fever and
soon my hair began to fall out and
great sores were made on my elbows,
thighs, and knees, and on the back of
my head by contact with the stone
floor. And then all through that
never ending night 1 could hear my
companions in misery calling for
mother, wife, and the names of their
little children; and with it all hunger,
hunger, always hunger, and thirst.
And you fall asleep and dream of
sparkling streams and feasts, and of
home. Once 1 tried with my teeth to
pierce the veins of my wrists for my
own blood to end my suffering"
/ can think of no better way to
bring forcibly to your notice the spirit
existing in our American prison sys-
TEN, than by relating one of the in
stances told by John B. Johnson's
book, who was himself a prisoner for
eighteen years in the Missouri state
prison, nine of those years in solitary
confinement. c. e. Hoffman, in his
introduction of this book, Buried
Alive" says, 81 have been very care
full not to publish any statement that
could not be substantiated by multi
tude of evidence Johnson says:
Not in heather lands, nor in Span
ish archives, nor in Ethiopian annals
can be found a crime SO revolving,
deed that so sounds to all the shoals
and depths of human depravity as the