populations were filled with difficult and violent persons, hardened in many cases by the lives they had led and the abuses they had suffered. How to control such a population over long periods within a limited, enclosed space was a huge, intensely practical problem that could not be ignored. If corporal punishment was not to be used, or used sparingly, what would be the ultimate method of control in the Wethersfield State Prison?
The public act authorizing the new Connecticut prison stated the answer. The warden who was
safeguarding said Prisoners and keeping them at hard labor … may confine them at their labor or punish them, by putting fetters and shackles on them, and by moderate whipping, not exceeding ten stripes for any one offense,—or by confinement in dark and solitary cells: which punishment may be inflicted, in case they be stubborn or disorderly, or do not well and faithfully perform their task, as they can be reasonably required, or in case they shall not submit to such rules and orders, as shall be, from time to time, established for the well ordering and governing of said Prison.37
The use of solitary confinement did not break any new ground. In fact, it was simply another application of the existing use of silence and separation. The cells in both the Pennsylvania and Auburn systems already functioned as a form of solitary confinement every day. Every inmate experienced that treatment at night in the Auburn style prisons, and all day, every day, in Pennsylvania, where it applied to the entire prison existence and so had no intentional purpose related to any single act by the prisoner.
In Connecticut Warden Amos Pilsbury’s use of the darkened cell succeeded as much as it did precisely because it was apparently used as a very careful and controlled response to specific infractions. Pilsbury was a hands-on warden who reacted immediately to infractions of the rules. The instant application of solitary confinement took the inmate out of a relatively normal, congregate life among other inmates and deprived him of sunlight, human companionship (however silent), and regular sustenance. Within the culture created by Pilsbury, the persona of a fearless father figure who could be either hard as stone or compassionate as a mother, apparently proved to be an effective approach most of the time.
Geographically, the location of the state prison on the Wethersfield Cove of the Connecticut River satisfied the accepted axiom that being near a river was highly preferable to provide access for quick transportation of both raw materials and finished products made by inmate labor. Two New York jails were originally located directly on the Hudson; the Auburn State Prison flanked the Platte River, feeding one of the Finger Lakes; and Boston’s Charlestown Prison was built on the shore of the Charlestown River.
Wethersfield, also built in large part by its first inmates, was a completely walled prison for maximum security. Its walls were twenty feet high, three feet wide at the base and two feet wide at the top, made of brownstone from Portland, Connecticut. Under the Auburn system, the wall served not only to minimize the possibility of escapes; it also assured total visual and auditory seclusion from the outside world.
Such confined space was assumed to facilitate reflection and repentance. Silence inside prevented communication between inmates, furnishing two of the three Auburn pillars of prison discipline. The Auburn-style interior cell blocks, as well as the workshops, were built of bricks. Upon completion, Wethersfield State Prison was considered one of the finest prisons in the United States, if not the world, the perfect prison for both punishment and reformation. Its estimated cost to Connecticut: approximately $30,000. The first cell-block building held 232 offenders in single cells. By 1830, thirty-two of those cells were dedicated to female inmates. This last facet was particularly important historically, since Connecticut was among the first states to demonstrate that women could be incarcerated along with men and be subjected to the same regimen and discipline, a concept that was almost completely doubted and resisted elsewhere.
Over the next 150 years the state prison underwent massive changes, adding new buildings and adapting to new developments in penology and the dominant cultural perception of what was required to control crime and punish both misdemeanants (generally, those with sentences of one year or less) and felons (those with sentences over one year). Financially, the first fifty years of the prison’s existence were the most successful. It operated at a profit, sometimes a very substantial profit.38
In terms of administration, however, there were a succession of scandals at the Wethersfield State Prison, the most notorious being the alleged mismanagement of the financial books by Amos Pilsbury in the early 1830s and the accompanying charge of mistreatment of inmates. Pilsbury was exonerated on both charges. A committee dismissed most of the evidence against the warden and commended his reappointment. Warden Pilsbury returned to Wethersfield within eighteen months, served until 1845, and earned plaudits in the New York State correctional system.39
Inside the walls of the prison, life went on as it had from the time of its construction. The routine of working in groups during the day and living in separate cells, initiated on the first day of operations, remained the same more or less year after year. A cemetery just for inmates had its first burial in 1828. There were continuous improvements. In 1830 a new addition to the main cell block provided sixty-four cells for males and forty-eight for females, plus a new kitchen and a hospital ward for women patients. Sixteen cells were approved and built in 1835 for “insane convicts”; gas lighting was installed twenty years later, and fire hydrants in 1869. A new dining hall, built in 1901, allowed congregate meals for the first time. In the early 1930s safety matches were distributed to the inmates, radios were available for purchase, weekly baths were begun, and a better quality of clothing was issued.40
The Auburn plan adopted by those planning the Wethersfield prison continued to be the management model of choice, as existing states felt compelled to build new prisons. Other states constructed the same walled fortresses, usually with silence imposed day and night, interior cell blocks, and congregate activities. The ranks of professional administrators and guards grew apace and gradually became more professional, though still far from modern standards.
During the remainder of the nineteenth century, Connecticut’s state prison would witness three staff murdered by 1888, including two successive wardens, Daniel Webster in 1862 and William Willard in 1870, both killed by inmates. In 1875 Wethersfield State Prison remained a notable but ambiguous example of Connecticut’s attempt to run an open, progressive prison with a regimen both strict and humane.41
MILESTONE 5: CONNECTICUT’S FIRST POLICE FORCES
A final milestone in the development of Connecticut’s criminal justice system occurred shortly after the opening of the Wethersfield State Prison. Hartford (1836) and Bridgeport (1837) began to replace their constables and night watchmen with a more authoritative employee, called a policeman. The impetus to take that step probably came from two basic sources: a local escalation in crime and word from England in 1829 that Sir Robert Peel, home secretary in the British Cabinet, had persuaded Parliament to pass the Metropolitan Police Act, creating a police force to protect London’s streets and businesses. On the first point, from 1830 to 1870, civil disorder had increased. The social context was the unrest over the pressure from abolition advocates, mob reactions in the streets in response to economic problems, and public oppositions to the number of saloons and the rise in alcoholism.42
In the recession that followed the War of 1812, according to historian Page Smith, “drunkenness was, indeed, America’s national malady.” Smith, oddly enough but typical of many historians, makes no reference to crime or jails or prisons, despite the connection with social turmoil.43 Lawrence Friedman, on the other hand, states that cities across the United States in the first half of the nineteenth century were “realms of vice and evil,” places of danger, violence, mobs, and riots, all related to the social issues that plagued a nation just emerging from its second war in fifty years and heading toward a civil war.44
As to the second point: the stories of unarmed “bobbies”
