The Western News

A DAY IN THE BIG HOUSE

By Our Special Correspondent

What goes on behind the three-foot stone wall of the State Prison at Deer Lodge? How are the prisoners treated? What hope is there for rejuvenating these "enemies of society?" Is the institution clean and sanitary? Is it operated economically or wastefully? Are the inmates benefited or harmed by being confined there? Is the taxpayer getting his money's worth? What activities are permitted the prisoners? What is the daily routine, the reaction of the men, the attitude of the guards and prison authorities? These questions are answered in the following series of articles by our Special Correspondent, who investigated the state prison for this newspaper. The first article is the prisoner's view; the second from a guard's standpoint, and the third from the taxpayer's position.

BY CONVICT NO. 014430

STATE PRISON at Deer Lodge, Mont., Nov. 1.-So here I am again! When I left San Quentin in 1932, I thought I was through with the stir. If that sap hadn't left his car with the keys in it if I hadn't taken that bum's bottle of whiskey-I wouldn't be here now. It didn't take these flatfeet long to catch up with me. Harlowtown to Billings, headin' south, and I run straight into the arms of a dick. That was a swell car, too.

This is a funny looking dump. Big stone walls, old red brick buildings. Yep, that guard in the tower has a tommy gun, all right. And one on that other corner, too. Guess I'll stay. Well, he finally got the door unlocked.

Better watch my step; these mugs usually dress you down so you'll behave, when they first take you in. After I get to my cell and know my way around, maybe I can get away with something. Nice looking fellow this warden.

Here we are. Same old system. Prints, mugs, a nice new number and a suit of "fish" clothes. These shoes would fit a swede. Now, he'll ask me a lot of silly questions.

"My name? Dan Dunn, sir. Yes sir, I served two years at San Quentin. Worked in a garage and borrowed a car to go to Tiajuana. I left there a free man-no parole. I am an orphan, sir. Have a brother in New Jersey someplace. An aunt in New England. Worked at Lytton's cafe in Philadelphia. No relatives in this state. I used the name of Kelly in San Quentin."

There, I'll not tip off these mugs to my family.

Ah, a bath and a haircut. I'm getting a break. This isn't a bad place; nice clean smell-no disinfectant. These regular clothes are good enough; two pairs of socks, two heavy union suits: a pair of brown denims and a blue-gray shirt and cap. These shoes are swell.

This guard looks like a tough guy. Guess he's taking me to my cell. No monkey business with him.

Those prisoners look healthy enough. Quit your winking, buddy, I am serving my own time. Pretty decent looking place in here. That's a nice yard, green lawn-everything painted and clean. I'm going to get along okey here.

So this is my cell! No. 0424. Gee, this isn't bad at all! Look at that view! Those mountains are pretty. It's about eight by ten in here. Nice little table; good light for reading. Plenty of fresh air; shaving mirror, too. This cotton mattress isn't so bad. These three blankets are good wool and heavy. Straw pillow, though. Well, it's better than a flop house. Wash bowl, and toilet in here, too.

Here's a catalog of books in the prison library. Three magazines and three papers each week. I'll be able to catch up on my reading.

Exercise periods twice a day, at 8:30 and 12:30. Allowed a half hour for walking around the yard, but must keep going 15 minutes and stay in single file. No talking except with one other, in the presence of the yard captain. Three meals a day. Here's where I catch up on some back food, too. Two sacks of "Bull" tobacco each week.

They get up early here, 7:15 a. m. Time to clean up before breakfast at 8 o'clock. Not bad chow today. Here's mixed fruit, oatmeal, fried potatoes, toast, coffee, milk and bread for breakfast. For dinner at 12 o'clock, we get boiled vegetables, navy beans, chocolate pudding, tea bread and milk. And for supper at 4:30 p. m., we get chili-con-carne mashed potatoes, rice custard, hot corn bread, coffee and milk.

Boy, this is better food than I got in the army. After supper, we get three or four hours for reading. Lights out at 9 p. m. There's a radio that goes on at 6 o'clock. Can keep up with the news, too.

What's this little card the guard gave me? "Fish Tips." Ah, a fish is a new inmate. It says:

"Do your own time; do not allow anyone else to do it for you. Remember this: when you are reported for a rule violation, no matter how small, the details are put on your card that is on file with the Parole Board as well as on your card here and may be held against you when you come up for parole."

(I'll watch my step, you bet. This joint isn't bad, but give me the outside, every time. These dam rules drive a man screwy.)

"When you write a letter write only about your own personal affairs; make no mention of others that are here; do not write anything

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