LITTLE TREASURES FROM TROVE

I have been trawling through the old newspapers on line going back to the 1830s for family history research. I am forever getting distracted and find myself reading some of the incredible historical stories that I find and I feel obliged to reproduce them so that others can enjoy them too. (https://trove.nla.gov.au/)

Coburg Leader (Vic.), Saturday 29 July 1893

Behind Prison Bars

BY THE OUTCAST.

PART XXII.

"We have often read of "The Pentridge Post Office" and seen the glaring airily-leaded head-lines in the evening papers, under which appears a column of thrilling sensation detailing how a prisoner though cut off from the outside world and debarred the daily visits of the man in the scarlet jacket, may, provided he has the necessary Kopecks still receive and send his letters as usual, - the medium of course being a warder. Though it is useless, in the face of recent revelations, to deny the fact that there are warders who will for a certain pecuniary consideration, lend themselves out as the hired menials of branded felons, this much most be said for the Pentridge staff - that taken as a whole it would be harder to find a more conscientious and honest body of men in the service. Though in receipt of wages little higher than those of the ordinary day-labourer, the great majority of them are men who never would degrade the cloth by even accepting a tip, putting aside altogether the idea of a bribe. Personally, I should be in favour of soundly thumping the party who tried to work a bribe on me, though I believe that some of the highest officials in the land do a little that way on the sly."

"But as the French say, 'revenons a nos moutons.' According to these aforesaid news-papers there is a fixed scale of charges made by warders who will undertake the job of bringing in a letter and taking one out, or carrying in a few pounds of tobacco or other luxuries, and otherwise lowering their self-respect and the dignity of the force. If this be the case I should very much like to see this much talked-of tariff-sheet. I have been on the staff a few years now and have never been let into this secret about which the lucky newspaper-man knows so much. Funny thing it is, what a lot of outsiders know about gaols they have never seen even the outside of. Reminds me of a little story circulating the press rounds at present to the effect that a certain high financier who should be doing 'hard labor' has been for some time the occupant of high-toned apartments in the prison where before a cheerful fire he whiles away his sentence reading classical literature and dining off quail-and-toast with the attendant in charge. This of course is eagerly snapped up by the credulous public who little think that the gentlemen in question varies his time by wheeling loaded muckbarrows up a plank, shovelling earth into drays, and picking the burrs out of woollen blankets. Even should it be the case that he was engaged in clerical work it is better that a man of his ability should be at it than one who is more used to the mysteries of the manipulation of a sledge-hammer or a pick and shovel. As for 'dining with warders,' it is a matter of fact that no warder is allowed to have his meals within the prison. Yet it is on such unsupported assertions as these we find the country raising a howl of indignation and clamouring for an enquiry into the discipline and system of our gaols."

"That high post on yonder wall is the central observatory of this prison. You will notice the numerous wires connecting it with other distant posts and the tall flag-pole whereon the sentry so mysteriously telegraphs to the lower stations and outer lines of sentries. The sentry on this post also has command of the big gate below him and controls its opening and shutting by means of a switch fixed above. We only put real live men on that post, for the duties keep a level-headed man going all day, what with flag-signals, answering telephones, ringing bells and saluting. When the telephones were first set up on the posts, to some of the warders who had never seen anything in that line before, they were the subject of much wild speculation. One 'ould gintleman' after gazing in a puzzled way at the machine for a minute or two said to the operator; 'phwat's that for, mister?' That's a telephone sir. By ringing that bell on the top, waiting for a reply and speaking into this transmitter you are enabled to converse with a friend at a distance of ten or twenty miles.' 'Miles, did ye say ?' 'Yes, miles.' 'Well thin, bedad, before I'd shout me head off at a man twenty miles away, I'd pay me trainfare like a dacint man and go and see him mesilf.'

This anecdotal trifle brought us to a barred and locked wicket through which we could see a gang of prisoners engaged in automatically elevating and dropping their stone hammers with such energetic ardour that the thought struck me that it was quite possible for these men to get through several ounces of broken metal per month provided a uniformity of stroke was adhered to. But our guide who as penal apologist knew the why and wherefore of most of these things explained that as this gang had finished up its week's task, they were now waiting for the clerk to come around with his yard-stick and measure off the various heaps of road metal stacked around.

A plump, rosy-cheeked, and white-haired old sentry now approached us, keys in hand, and noticing X---'s pass, he unlocked the gate and admitted us within the jealously-guarded enclosure - a large yard about three chains square, surrounded with high walls surmounted by the inevitable sentry-boxes. In this yard about one hundred men were engaged in various employments - stone-breaking and matmaking principally - under the eye of a fierce-looking little man, who despite his want of size, seemed to have them pretty well under control. Most of the men here, X--- informed us, were doing long sentences - ten, fifteen, twenty, and twenty-six years. Some of these unhappy wretches for many years had never seen a glimpse of the outer world save the scrap of blue sky overhead, and for years to come would have nothing more cheering facing them than the dark walls with the sentry atop rifle in hand waiting for a chance to let daylight into some of them.

The ferocious-looking little man came over to us, and after X--- had gone through the usual preliminaries, he took us over his showroom, where we inspected samples of the mats made by the gang. Mats for doorways and railway carriages, mats for hall-entrances and mats with mottoes; some with the peremptory command "Wipe your feet," worked in black letters, and others with the more genial "Salve!" bordered with bright colors. In addition to these were coir-mats for stairways and passages, and in one corner a large stack of orders from a suburban cricket-club were awaiting removal. The overseer next led us to the sheds, where we saw the methods of working up the material from the coir (or coconut fibre) into the finished article. A stalwart negro, who grinned a sunny six-inch smile of welcome at us, obligingly showed us through the mysteries of letter-making, very deftly trimming out a governmental "V.R." with his knife - a murderous-looking two-foot article, with an edge as keen as a razor. As we moved off out of range, this colored gentleman (who we learnt was a pugilistic burglar) suggestively tapped his cheek for the expected "backsheesh," but we failed to "tumble."

Heavy wooden machine ranged under a long shed were next inspected. These are used for weaving the fibre into mats, and nearly all the men engaged on them are murderers doing life-sentences. Further along the board a goodly fellowship of past masters in the burgling line were toiling at tables whereon the framework of several railway carriage-mats were undergoing operation. Our conclusion after our tour round the yard was, that the matmaking industry must form one of the principal sources of revenue to the establishment.

A few yards across from this yard and we were facing the entrance to the woolen mills and clothing factory. A warder busily engaged in "turning over" a prisoner, (whose maxillary movements indicated a possibility of his proving a good subject for searching operation) ceased his quest and advanced towards oar party, passed the time of day with X - and walked out. "That" said X--- "is F---, the terror of the prisoners and a model to the younger warders. After he has been out on a raid among the prisoners he always comes in with his girdle full of scalps (so to speak). Some times when the Senior Chief puts him on a good night-post he succeeds in capturing fifteen or twenty cases of smoking on the sly, or having tobacco in their possession. In the day-time this industrious young officer rubs along at the same old gait and often when we see a blue streak wildly careering across the quarries we know that it is F--- on the warpath after some unlucky possessor of a chew. His enthusiastic ardour in his pursuits after the narcotic weed is only damped occasionally when after confiscating a packet containing a half-pound of fine "Derby" plugs, he finds that the said plugs twin out to be nothing but scraps of leather nicely cut trimmed and labelled in imitation of the genuine article. Then he seeks a quiet corner where the grinning convicts can view his discomfiture, and indulges in a string of choicest profanity till the atmosphere assumes quite an azure tint. Nevertheless he is one of our smartest young officers and when he is on deck things are somewhat subdued among the members of the gangs who are ever on the look-out for any sign of weakness on the part of the man over them."

We entered the factory and the roar and clatter of machinery-looms, spinning-wheel and carding-machines all in active motion - soon made it clear to us that we were in the busiest of all the Pentridge workshops. A severe visaged elderly gentleman clad in a suit of Pentridge tweed moved briskly among the men, setting a card-roller right here, or tying a broken thread there and everywhere making his energetic presence felt. "That old gentleman" said X---" is the overseer of this department, who on account of his Procrastean joviality and his reputation as a funny-man, is known among the staff as "The Undertaker." It is but seldom that he saws off his jokes while on duty - where the importance of his business as caretaker of this expensive machinery demands his every moment. Besides being in charge of the woolen mills he has under his wing the steam-laundry, the dye-works, drying-rooms and stores containing the tweeds, blankets, etc. With a body of men under him who are awaiting their first chance to get the best of him, by either shirking their work or destroying the machines, his position is no sinecure. As he is now about to set one of the machines in motion let us stroll down that way and see some of the interesting processes of blanket-making."

(To be Continued.)

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