A fragment of the prison experiences of Emma Goldman and Alexander Berkman: In the State Prison at Jefferson City, Mo., and the U. S. Penitentiary at Atlanta, Ga. February, 1918–October, 1919Goldman, Emma
History
A fragment of the prison experiences of Emma Goldman and Alexander Berkman: In the State Prison at Jefferson City, Mo., and the U. S. Penitentiary at Atlanta, Ga. February, 1918–October, 1919
Goldman, Emma
Anarchists -- United States; Berkman, Alexander, 1870-1936; Goldman, Emma, 1869-1940; Prisoners -- United States
On more than one occasion I have seen this miserable foreman
deliberately steal jackets and suspenders from colored girls who are
serving twenty-five year sentences and from illiterate white girls. If
they dare insist that they delivered their quota of work, they are
punished for “impudence,” in addition to being punished for “short”
work. In view of the fact that four punishment marks a month reduce the
prisoner one grade, and that a higher grade means speedier release from
the prison hell, the enormity of this petty official’s criminal thievery
can be appreciated. Yet this man is considered fit to be in charge of
sixty to seventy “criminals.” It does not take much wisdom to find the
greater criminal.
It may be argued that this ignorant and vulgar young man is only a tool,
and therefore not to blame. Partly this is true. The State is the real
offender, the officials of the Prison Board, as well as the petty
subordinates who live by the sweat and blood of the social outcasts. The
very first year the State of Missouri became the exploiter of the
convicts’ labor, the St. Louis _Post-Dispatch_ reported that the
salaries of the prison officials had been increased $20,000 per annum.
No wonder the Acting Warden, Captain Gilvan—a bully and a brute who used
to administer flogging when it was still “officially” in vogue in
Missouri—once said to us in the shop, “I must have the task. You must
make it. No such thing as can’t. If you do not give me the task, I will
punish you. And I punish cheerfully.” Having the support and approval of
such a man and the sanction of the head matron, a woman entirely bereft
of feeling, it is natural for the foreman to squeeze and press and bully
the task out of the women. But can anyone suppose that the foreman could
lend himself to such brutal slave-driving, if he were not depraved
himself?
It is utterly impossible to keep up the required speed day after day.
The working hours are nine a day, but in order to complete the task, the
women are driven to the old-time sweatshop methods of taking work
evenings to their cells. In view of the fact that the cells are vermin
infested, and the jackets and suspenders the prisoners make are sold
broadcast and have already been handled by consumptive and venereally
infected male prisoners, who prepare the work, the results can readily
be imagined.
Personally I was well supplied by many friends with nourishing food. I
am an adept at the needle trade, having worked at it for many years,
when I first came to know the many economic opportunities in our
so-called democracy. Yet I never could keep up the mind- and
soul-destroying speed in the prison shop. Therefore I know what it means
to the underfed women prisoners. Not one but emerges with impaired
health.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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