Chapter XXXII: The Deviousness of Reform Law Applied

February 14, 1899.

DEAR CAROLUS:

The Greeks thought the gods spiteful creatures. When things
begin to look brighter for man, they grow envious. You'll be
surprised,--Mr. Schraube has turned into an enemy. Mostly my own
fault; that's the sting of it. It will explain to you the
failure of the former _sub rosa_ route. The present one is safe,
but very temporary.

It happened last fall. From assistant I was advanced to hallman,
having charge of the "crank row," on Range A. A new order
curtailed the rations of the insane,--no cornbread, cheese, or
hash; only bread and coffee. As rangeman, I help to "feed," and
generally have "extras" left on the wagon,--some one sick, or
refusing food, etc. I used to distribute the extras, "on the q.
t.," among the men deprived of them. One day, just before
Christmas, an officer happened to notice Patsy chewing a piece
of cheese. The poor fellow is quite an imbecile; he did not know
enough to hide what I gave him. Well, you are aware that
"Cornbread Tom" does not love me. He reported me. I admitted the
charge to the Warden, and tried to tell him how hungry the men
were. He wouldn't hear of it, saying that the insane should not
"overload" their stomachs. I was ordered locked up. Within a
month I was out again, but imagine my surprise when Schraube
refused even to talk to me. At first I could not fathom the
mystery; later I learned that he was reprimanded, losing ten
days' pay for "allowing" me to feed the demented. He knew
nothing about it, of course, but he was at the time in special
charge of "crank row." The Schraube has been telling my friends
that I got him in trouble wilfully. He seems to nurse his
grievance with much bitterness; he apparently hates me now with
the hatred we often feel toward those who know our secrets. But
he realizes he has nothing to fear from me.

Many changes have taken place since you left. You would hardly
recognize the block if you returned (better stay out, though).
No more talking through the waste pipes; the new privies have
standing water. Electricity is gradually taking the place of
candles. The garish light is almost driving me blind, and the
innovation has created a new problem: how to light our pipes. We
are given the same monthly allowance of matches, each package
supposed to contain 30, but usually have 27; and last month I
received only 25. I made a kick, but it was in vain. The worst
of it is, fully a third of the matches are damp and don't light.
While we used candles we managed somehow, borrowing a few
matches occasionally from non-smokers. But now that candles are
abolished, the difficulty is very serious. I split each match
into four; sometimes I succeed in making six. There is a man on
the range who is an artist at it: he can make eight cuts out of
a match; all serviceable, too. Even at that, there is a famine,
and I have been forced to return to the stone age: with flint
and tinder I draw the fire of Prometheus.

The mess-room is in full blast. The sight of a thousand men,
bent over their food in complete silence, officers flanking each
table, is by no means appetizing. But during the Spanish war,
the place resembled the cell-house on New Year's eve. The
patriotic Warden daily read to the diners the latest news, and
such cheering and wild yelling you have never heard. Especially
did the Hobson exploit fire the spirit of jingoism. But the
enthusiasm suddenly cooled when the men realized that they were
wasting precious minutes hurrahing, and then leaving the table
hungry when the bell terminated the meal. Some tried to pocket
the uneaten beans and rice, but the guards detected them, and
after that the Warden's war reports were accompanied only with
loud munching and champing.

Another innovation is exercise. Your interviews with the
reporters, and those of other released prisoners, have at last
forced the Warden to allow the idle men an hour's recreation. In
inclement weather, they walk in the cell-house; on fine days, in
the yard. The reform was instituted last autumn, and the
improvement in health is remarkable. The doctor is
enthusiastically in favor of the privilege; the sick-line has
been so considerably reduced that he estimates his time-saving
at two hours daily. Some of the boys tell me they have almost
entirely ceased masturbating. The shop employees envy the
"idlers" now; many have purposely precipitated trouble in order
to be put in solitary, and thus enjoy an hour in the open. But
Sandy "got next," and now those locked up "for cause" are
excluded from exercise.

Here are some data for our book. The population at the end of
last year was 956--the lowest point in over a decade. The Warden
admits that the war has decreased crime; the Inspectors' report
refers to the improved economic conditions, as compared with the
panicky times of the opening years in the 90's. But the
authorities do not appear very happy over the reduction in the
Riverside population. You understand the reason: the smaller the
total, the less men may be exploited in the industries. I am not
prepared to say whether there is collusion between the judges
and the administration of the prison, but it is very significant
that the class of offenders formerly sent to the workhouse are
being increasingly sentenced to the penitentiary, and an unusual
number are transferred here from the Reformatory at Huntington
and the Reform School of Morganza. The old-timers joke about the
Warden telephoning to the Criminal Court, to notify the judges
how many men are "wanted" for the stocking shop.

The unions might be interested in the methods of nullifying the
convict labor law. In every shop twice as many are employed as
the statute allows; the "illegal" are carried on the books as
men working on "State account"; that is, as cleaners and clerks,
not as producers. Thus it happens that in the mat shop, for
instance, more men are booked as clerks and sweepers than are
employed on the looms! In the broom shop there are 30 supposed
clerks and 15 cleaners, to a total of 53 producers legally
permitted. This is the way the legislation works on which the
labor bodies have expended such tremendous efforts. The broom
shop is still contracted to Lang Bros., with their own foreman
in charge, and his son a guard in the prison.

Enough for to-day. When I hear of the safe arrival of this
letter, I may have more intimate things to discuss.

A.