My interest in prisons just always was. I don't remember ever not joyfully recoiling when prison shows came on TV. I'm totally entranced watching folks have their heads shaved and adjusting to their new cell. I think it's a freedom thing. Freedom is my favorite of the luxuries. Hence my aversion to long-term commitments.
In high school I would race home on Monday nights, flying through the neighborhood to get home before Prison Break started. I picked up penitentiary slang and felt I was a seasoned con.
"What happened to T-bag?" Mom would ask, rushing towards the living room when she heard the theme song.
"They put him in a four piece and sent him back to gen-pop." I would reply matter of factly.
I still find myself watching shows about foreign prisons and life on Death Row. There is a prison in the middle of the Russian tundra where the sun doesn't shine and it snows almost year round. It takes three days, 2 trains, 3 buses, 2 caravans, and a snow plow to get these guys out to the prison. Or something like that. I can't imagine they get many family visits.
So whilst passing through Wyoming, Mom got the bright idea to visit an prison in a town called Rawlins. She's always supported my interests.
Back in the day the Wyoming State Penitentiary housed an abundance of ne'er-do-wells who's crimes ranged from murder to mislabeling their cattle. The prison was originally built in 1872 and the two of us gals happily bounded up the old stone steps in our cutesy outfits and sandals. Some tough looking women welcomed us and let us wander through a collection of shanks while we waited for the tour to begin.
It was very interesting reading about the resourceful and mischievous minds of the prisoners who found ways to break out, make poisons, intimidate guards, and kill other inmates but also make paintings, write poetry, play baseball (they had one of the best teams in the state) and earn money making brooms, license plates and wool blankets that were bought for infantry soldiers by the military.
Though it was warm outside, the inside of the prison was very cold and extremely dark in some places. Our tour guide was a very knowledgable girl who would slam cell doors and lock locks with a loud clunck. They were very distinctly prison noises. We saw the tiny cells of A-block, the slightly wider, brightly colored cells of B-block, and the standing cell for poorly behaved inmates. This cell was just big enough to stand in and prisoners would be left in there for about a week. It was pitch black in there and sometimes guards would forget to feed them. Many victims of the standing cell wound up in psychiatric hospitals shortly after.
They had a small yard for their hour of outdoor time each day, a big shower room sans hot water, and a library where they could read about rights and laws. The prison got so cold in the winter that sometimes prisoners would freeze to death. We learned a bit about how prisons are organized or not organized in some cases and how the correctional officers handled all of the different situations the cons created for them.
The highlight was learning how to use the giant wooden apparatus they used to hang Death Row inmates. Years later, when hanging was deemed inhumane and before the place closed in the 80's, the prison acquired a gas chamber that sat at the end of the hall on Death Row.
It was an eerie place, cold and quiet, and I was totally fascinated by everything I learned. The way they lived! My heart was broken for all the fellas who had to stay here after forging a check or stealing a relatively inconsequential piece of farm equipment. Also, their paintings made me sad. They were never angry, murdurous pictures of revenge or darkness. They painted deer bounding through forests or buffalo on a wide open plain.
Prison would really be awful. What a luxury to leave that building, climb into the car, and set back out into the wild and free.
I used to feel the same way when I would leave school for the day.
Oh! I forgot to mention that Mom drew the short straw and flew out to Salt Lake to meet me for the long drive home.
Such a sweet lady she is.
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