1883 - July 23oo

During a bright, if a little warm, morning in August 1883, a reporter with the Spectator was sent out to inspect and write an article about a place most Hamiltonians only knew from the outside ,the Barton street jail:

“Everything is neat and clean at the jail. From the office to the topmost cell, everything is as bright as a pin.

“A SPECTATOR reporter, through the kindness of Captain Henery, was shown over the building the other day by Jailer Morrison. There are only 26 prisoners in the establishment at present, and it is hoped that the number will decrease.”¹

¹“A Visit to the Jail : Employment Required for the Prisoners.”

Hamilton Spectator.   August  08, 1883.

The first aspect of operations, at what was formally known as the Wentworth County Jail, related to what the prisoners were fed:

“Mr. Morrison led the reporter first into the kitchen, where two able-bodied prisoners, arrayed in the degrading prison livery, were firing up under two immense coppers – one containing potatoes and the other a mixture of oatmeal.

“In the morning the prisoners are regaled with gruel; at midday they have meat and potatoes or bread and potatoes on alternate days; at night they have bread. There was a time when porridge was the chief diet, with trimmings of salt and a drink of water, but through the kindness of the Government who raised the diet at the suggestion of Mr. Langmuir, inspector of prisons, the prisoners are allowed the solace of a potato now and then, just to remind them of outside luxuries. Spring chicken, plum pudding and strawberry pie have no meaning in the jail.”¹

In the area outside of the stone fortress, the reporter saw many characters he had observed in the police court:

“In the yard, flanked by a pile of wood for the sawyer, paced Mr. Dumphy, convicted of selling liquor against the peace of our sovereign the Queen, her crown and dignity.

“It is surprising what a change the prisoner garb makes in a man. It seems to retain, in a concentrated form, all the vileness of former owners, which it immediately imparts to the wearer. Go down to one of the clubs or hotels, and take the most fashionable dude that can be found. Bring him up to the jail, cut his hair, and put him into a jail suit, jerry hat and all, and a hardened, devil-may-care look will come over him in a very short time, and anyone who does not know him would pronounce him a very dangerous fellow. Mr. Dumphy could never be accused of being a dude, but still imprisonment has left its mark upon him.”¹

The man seen most often in the Hamilton Police Court was an individual who was arrested and imprisoned gain and again for his habitual alcohol consumption:

“In an apartment where a bench held up a miscellaneous collection of paint pots, bottles of oil, brushes, etc. stood Mr. Livingstone, the veteran drunk. He laughed and nodded familiarly as the jailor passed the usual civilities. Livingstone is the jail painter, and he is scarcely ever out of a job. It is sad to think that this old, poor man has spent the best part of his life in jail because he  not the resolution nor the will to overcome a low habit.”

Passing along a hall in the jail, the reporter encountered several prisoners, men and women:

“Mr. Anderson, the alleged embezzler, stood in one of the corridors with a hair brush in his hand, talking with a youth held for burglary. As the reporter passed another prisoner in the same corridor, he pulled his hat over his eyes and held down his head as if to escape recognition.

“The large cell which Major Phipps occupied is lonely and deserted-looking, the benches piled upon the table being the only reminders of its occupant.

“The female prisoners are mostly from the ranks of the drunken and dissolute.”¹

The reporter, observing so many idle and bored prisoners, suggested that something be done about that:

“It is to be regretted that no employment has been furnished for the inmates. Lolling in the window seats or walking idly in the yard does not improve them morally or physically, and some means of occupying the time which seems to hang heavily upon them, should be devised.

“ Poor old Livingstone is generally engaged painting the walls and surfaces, and keeping things clean, generally, but the other prisoners have apparently nothing whatever to do. In wintertime, however, when the furnaces are in operation heating the building, three or four are required to look after the apparatus, firing, carrying wood, etc.

“Mr. Morrison showed the reporter the balls and chains formerly in use when prisoners did outside work. An active man would find some trouble in running with such appendages to his ankle.”¹

Completing his tour, the reporter left the jail and then ended the article he wrote about his observations with the following comment:

“The interior and exterior appearance reflects credit upon the taste and management of the governor and his assistants. It is to be hoped that they may never have more to do than at the present time.” ¹