The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1915-10-30
SOCIAL EVENING
IN THE BULL PEN
State Journal Reporter Locked
Up i'm City Prison
Through the Courtesy of Har-
Vey Parsons, Chief of Police.
WANTED EXPERIENCE; GOT 1T
How Thieves, DRINKS and Va
grants Spend Their Time.
The Conditions Surrounding
Prisoners Are Appalling.

social evening IN the Dull pen OF
Topeka's city Jail; an hour and a
half or maybe two hours in a filthy
barren walled room, poorly ventilated
and dimly lighted, wherein are con-
fined petty thieves, Migrants, drunks,
some diseaSeS-doeS it sound inviting?
Through the courtesy of Chief Harvey
Parsons it was the privilege of a State
Journal reporter to enjoy CD the
aforementioned experience.
The reporter during the consider
able length of time that he has hung
around" the police station has often
wondered just now it would feel to
experience all the privileges of a pris-
Cner in the barred room. This he con-
fided to Chief Parsons. Parsons smil-
ed. He gave the necessary order to
Ed Woodruff, jailer, that caused she
reporter to be temporarily charged
with forgery and locked up.
And thus it came to pass that
Thursday night the reporter, alias
the wretches in the black hole of To-
peka.
Jones, forger. faced a dirty walled
barren room about thirty by twenty
feet-maybe it was a little larger
when the lock cIinched on the door
behind him. The place was in semi
gloom, lighted only by a sixteen cam
die power electric lamp. The new
prisoner walked across the concrete
floor and took inventory of his sur
roundings while inmates of the place
surveyed him with mingled curiosity
and unconcern. Four prisoners, Babe
Smith, Henry Johns, another negro
and a Mexican, squatted on a mattress
in the middle of the floor and were
playing a game f 6~aw-pitch. In
one of the iron hunks lay a Mexican
on ragged and dirty mattress, sleep
ing off a jag. An alcoholic odOr, min
"led with other smells, penetrated
every nook and corner of the room.
The mattress On which the card
string we'll others
:n the room, was dirty and stained.
\ number of them were ragged, fall
ing to pieces with age. 1t is next to
impossible to keep this padding clean.
a drunk is thrown in the pen. He is
in a fighting mood. He goes to a
bunk and lies down. A rip is heard.
Half of the covering of the mattress
IS torn away from the cotton.
Bunks of Sheet Iron.
The hunks are of sheet iron, ranged
along the walls. Little piles of plaS-
tering, scaled from the walls, fill their
corners and mix with trash. The floor
of the place, although it is flushed
with a hose once or twice day, is
dirty and filthy an hour after it is
cleaned. The barred door at the east
end of the room and one window is
the only ventilation. The air was
pungent-
Jones" seated himself st IT, west
end of the room on a wooden bench.
A stove, devoid of ornament or pol
ish. which has an appearance that
makes one afraid to touch it for fear
it will fall over, stood in the center of
the pen.
Cobwebs, heavily laden with dust, |
filled the corners of the room, while |
guilds of Tobacco occupied places of
honor on the walls. A toilet-open-
was in the southwest corner
The reporter attention turned to |
the inmates Clean? They could not |
have kept clean with all the soap in
the world. The adherence which the |
police say the most of them have for a |
bath did not make their appearance |
more inviting.
A negro prisoner lifted himself from !
a bunk and sauntered over to the !
bench on which Jones" was sitting. |
He eyed the new prisoner a moment |
with the apparent idea of starting a |
conversation, but changed his mind |
and began to sing "Tipperary' to the |
tune of "Old Black joe
Jones" tried to figure out a sem |
tence that would break up the must |
cal combination.
what are you in for?'' the reporter
managed to ask
IT'S a long way to Tipp-er-arie-l
petty larcenee-but All m on my way" |
warbled the negro, whose name the |
reporter learned was Oliver Thomp- |
son.
Thompson Stops Singing.
The negro stopped singing. What !
you in for?' he queried.
Forgery" lied Jones'"
It's a long way-whee, say but
tou're in deep. Think you can beat
it ?"
"Uh-huh.''
Got any folks here? %
Again the reporter lied mo, but |
expect some friends down pretty quick |
TO get me OUT
Huh! That's what expected when |
I got in here. Boy, you're all wrong |
aI, on y-o
4 goin' to be diggin' coal up at Lans- |
ing inside of three months. H. E. G. |
Just then the attention of Jones, |
fOrger, was caught by small object |
on mattress which was lying on |
bunk He peered through the gloom.
Something was moving there. He |
lighted a match and investigated. |
When the light flared up graybacked
species of vermin Scurried for cover /
toward a torn place in the padding.
Jones" glanced across the room. A |
Mexican armed with a small stick /
about a foot long, was steering a small
object about the size OF the reporters
discovery ar und in circles on mat |
treSs. Jones' imagined he felt some
thing crawling over his right ear A
frantic grab resulted in the discovery /
that stray lock of hair had fallen /
from under his hat and was causing |
the sensation Liter Chief Parsons |
and others explained to Jones" that
the old building is an incubator for
NCiiIi4i anu lIldl QOpe Is SlOl
the hunks and crevices of the wall
daily to keep the multiped population
down to a minimum. The mattresses
and blankets are busted and cleaned
so far as possible every day.
1t was Babe Smith, or maybe Jose
Rodriguez, a Mexican inmate. that
finally invited Jones to set in for a
Commanded game of draw pitch.