When giving people directions to my
house, I sometimes say, "Turn right at the Penitentiary." They
usually think I'm joking, but in fact I'm entirely serious. I live within view of
Kingston Penitentiary, Canada’s oldest and most notorious prison.
Kingston Penitentiary, c. 1901 (photo from "Souvenir views of the city of Kingston, Ontario, Canada, and the Thousand Islands, River St. Lawrence", 1901, via wikipedia) |
Kingston Penitentiary was built in
1833-34, using blocks of limestone quarried by convict labour. (Actually, the
building is older than the country itself: until Canada’s Confederation in
1867, the city of Kingston and its penitentiary were located in the British
colony of Upper Canada.) When Charles Dickens visited Kingston in 1842, he
found the town distinctly underwhelming. It had just suffered a disastrous fire
that razed large portions of the city centre, including City Hall and the
public market. Dickens’s rather sniffy assessment? “It may be said of Kingston,
that one half of it appears to be burnt down, and the other half not to be
built up.”
He must have cheered up as he drove
westward along the shores of Lake Ontario, because when he reached the
nearly-new Penitentiary, Dickens had nothing but praise for it: “There is an
admirable jail here, well and wisely governed, and excellently regulated, in
every respect. The men were employed as shoemakers, ropemakers, blacksmiths,
tailors, carpenters, and stonecutters; and in building a new prison, which was
pretty far advanced towards completion. The female prisoners were occupied in
needlework.” I’m willing to bet that everything was extra-tidy and
well-organized that day, for the celebrity visit.
This building houses the woodworking and machine shops for inmate instruction. (photo credit: Boardhead, via wikipedia) |
Dickens’s impression of the prison
might seem excessively rosy but the Pen was a newer facility, built along more
humane principles. For example, teaching trades to inmates aimed to reduce
recidivism. However, prisoners were also subject to very strict discipline:
inmates “must not exchange a word with one another under any pretence
whatever”. Further, they “must not exchange looks, wink, laugh, nod or
gesticulate to each other”. Inmates were flogged for breaking these rules. At
the time of Dickens’s visit, there were roughly 400 inmates, including 24
females. The women were housed in “the Female Department”, a separate building
within the grounds, until a new facility was built for them in 1934.
Some of the nineteenth-century inmates
were children: there is a record of Antoine Boucher, an eight-year-old boy, who
was sentenced to either two or three years’ imprisonment (my sources differ) in
1845. A twelve-year-old named Elizabeth Breen is also on record as having been
flogged, as well as an eleven-year-old called Alex Lafleur. His offense?
Speaking in French.
In its early days, those employed at KP
were required to live within earshot of its bell. In the event of an emergency,
the bell was rung and all employees mustered to help out.
An aerial view of Kingston Penitentiary, ca. 1919 (photo credit: Library & Archives Canada, MIKAN no. 3259972, via wikipedia) |
The penitentiary was in continuous use
for 178 years until it was closed in 2013. Kingston Penitentiary
was designated a National Historic Site in 1990 – an honour that sat
uncomfortably with its use as a maximum-security jail. Because of its
historical significance, it can’t be razed. There’s already a national penitentiary museum across the street, in the former warden’s Victorian
red-brick home. And who on earth would buy a condo retrofitted into a place of
such suffering? Until someone figures out how to use the space (the site is
next to a harbour and looks out onto Wolfe Island, the largest of the Thousand
Islands) there it stands, a constant reminder of the gritty and shameful
aspects of our history.
Robben Island has maintained its prison. I visited Mandela's cell, stood in it, indeed, and considered the years spent in that tiny space. I think maintaining prisons as heritage sites is not a bad idea. They can act as a reminder of man's inhumanity to man. I was very taken aback by two points in your blog, Y S Lee: the women did not get their own block until 1934 and that this place was only closed in 2013. I spent almost a year in and out of Holloway (women's prison in north London) interviewing, working with females incarcerated there for a book "Young Women Crossing the Line", which I published with Women's Press. I was horrified by all that I witnessed and learnt.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this fascinating post. Such places are chilling indeed. I'm hot surprised no-one wants to convert it into modern living accommodation. Lots of Victorian asylums have been so converted but I wouldn't want to live anywhere with such a history of cruelty and suffering.
ReplyDeleteYOUNG WOMEN CROSSING THE LINE sounds fascinating, Carol. I'll have to check it out. About the women's building: women and men were segregated in different wings before the construction of the separate building in 1934, and many were forced to bring their children into prison with them (where else could they go?). Also, the closing of the prison last year was highly controversial. It was seen by many as a political decision, rather than one based on the prison's present condition and facilities. Many employees felt it could have stayed open as a modern institution.
ReplyDeleteCelia, as I was looking into the woodworking shop (a place for convicts to learn), someone leaned over my shoulder and said, "Oh my god, this would make an AMAZING condo!" I'm with you, though.