PRISON REFORM.

Waipa Post, Volume XII, Issue 945, 22 May 1920, Page 6

PRISON REFORM.

THE WAIKERIA SYSTEM. GIVING MEN A MAN’S CHANCE. A WALK THROUGH THE PRISON. The prison system of the twentieth century has been subjected to many criticisms, 'and has been the butt of countless “ reformers.” So early as 1902 there was written a book in England purporting to be a true account of the terrors of prison life, and the countless indignities and terrible abuse meted out to the unfortunate prisoner. The poignant wordpictures of Charles Reade, and the memories of dark dungeons and open oubliettes, have not left the public cold: they have assimilated the idea meant to be conveyed, and prison to them means a den of iniquity, and a place of State-controlled torture. That the general conception of the State’s preventive and remedial arm is wrong is proved in New Zealand. The principles of English prisondom have naturally been used as a basis for New Zealand prison control; but tbe mere fact of. the. introduction of “ reformative treatment ” of men who have committed crimes under impulse: men who could not be classed as criminals, and who certainly could not be placed among the mere hardened criminal and be untainted to a further degree, has shown the desire of the State to assist and not to crush. It was with this end in view, then, the caring in a more or less maternal manner by the State for men who were not criminals, that Waikeria prison camp was opened some years ago. And in that short space of time Waikeria Reformatory, just eleven miles from Te Awamutu, has become an institution second to none of its kind in the Southern Hemisphere, and one that has attracted worldfamous criminologists to its domains for the purpose of seeing the working of the “ new prison ” —the reforming of those men fit and willing—far without the will attempt is useless — to be reformed. The Recent, Changes. The prison in the last seven, years —or the Reformatory, as it is jealously known —has been uifder the charge of Mr J. Down, who will be leaving shortly for New Plymouth, on further Government service. It is during his administration that the system has been augmented, and the cogs of the wheel set going to the best possible advantage. Waikeria prison camp was first a collection of huts on a field of bracken and gorse, near a swift-running "stream at the base of a mbuntain. To-day the stream is there, and the hill, but that is all. The bracken and undergrowth have given place to green gardens, tilled fields, healthy land. The huts have changed, Geniilike, to a massive white building. “ More like a hotel than a prison,” is the usual comment maije by a visitor to Waikeria. The big concrete building stands on a knoll, ram-part-like, its two-storey front of white and red making good showing. A road, incidentally the end of one of the finest roads in the district, made by the inmates—winds up the hill, breaking into a drive near the pillared portico. There is nothing prison-like about the exterior save the barred windows and sentry post on the mound overlooking the yard. Out in the fields are men working, healthy-looking men with faces tanned and brown arms. They are prisoners.

The two-storied loggia is the central headquarters of the prison. On the bottom floor are the storerooms one for the general stores of the prison and the other for the prisoners’ clothes, which are kept in canvas, camphored bags, awaiting the release of their owners, the head office of the gaoler, and the guard room. Upstairs is a fine cool social hall, used daily as a school room. A feature of the building is the wealth of local talent displayed in the accoutrements and furnishing. “ Here,” the attendant warder will say, “ is a roll-top desk made by So-and-so (a prisoner). Here is a mantlepiece carved by this man, and a table top by this man.” The designs, severl of them, are exceflleilt. A unique r iron-iembossedj lamp under the portico immediately attracts the attention. It is the work of a prisoner. The Main Building. From the headquarters the main prison is the next visited. One marvels at the facility with which the warders manipulate seemingly countless keys, for everything must be locked hard and fast in a prison: no risks are taken. The main corridor—a wide stone-floored barn of a building—has two floors of cells, with the usual balcony and steps in the centre pof the hall. The ironwork on the steps was done—and very creditably, too—by an inmate of the Reformatory. As we enter, two men, with mop and broom, straighten up and salute the superintendent. There is no servility in the salute; no sign of cowed spirit or seeking after favouritism. It is just the salute of the man over which there exists a rigid discipline, to the man he respects and perhaps appreciates and regards, for Mr Down has been an exceptionally popular gaoler. The cells on the bottom tier are tbe smaller of the two sets. There is the usual grated window, shelf, with blankets roiled and treacle tin — for treacle is used in lieu of butter here —folding bed, and table built into the wall. On this particular table are Pearson’s Magazine, the Bible, and “ The Prisoner of Zenda.” The library is open to all who merit the privilege, and each man is allowed three books a week. It is a great help to them, and is indubitably appreciated. The cells on the upper floor are the same, only the windows are larger. There is electric light in each cell, and a bell push, in the event of a man taking suddenly ill in the night. It is all quite different from Reade’s tale of Norfolk Island. One did not see a flogging post! Preparing the Meals. The meals were being prepared as we passed through. The kitchen is spotlessly clean, pans and tins arrayed in shining, imposing array, while white-garbedcooks. glide noiselessly "from the ’stoves to the benches. Stew was being made, and seemed ex-

cellent. The food arrangements, if plain, are conducive to health, and the men need never go short. Threequarters of a pound of meat and a loaf of bread a day are the staple articles of diet, and the bread more than good. It is crisp, fresh, succulent. Porridge, treacle, tea pudding, and rice are also supplied the men, and complaints are very few. Here again, in the kitchen, are to be seen various devices invented and set up by the inmates. Those who take an interest and adapt themselves to their surroundings find it pays them best. There is a plant for corning beef near the kitchen. Waikeria is industrious, and its watchword is self-help. There is a cobbler’s shop, with a happy-looking “ ammichoor ” lasting and awling with avidity, .and a saddler’s workroom where an artist who incidentally, is quite clever with penpainting, makes girths. In the rear of the yard are the shower rooms. Here several showers are arranged along the wall, laid on with hot and cold water (oh, luxury!), and opposite them cosy, compact little bath houses. The men file in, and, on a given order, bathe. Everything is done with precision. The older offenders are allowed the dignity of a bath tub, but generally the warm douche is preferred. A watchword of Waikeria is cleanliness. And cold water and soap are good reformers! Waikeria makes its own soap in a little rush-covered whare. Any kind may be obtained—glycerine , sand, and castille, it is immaterial which. The Punishment Cells.

There are naturally punishment cells at Waikeria. In the past, Prison Boards-Uiave muzzled ambitious pressmen who sought for scoops in relation to recalcitrant prisoners. Nous avons change tout cela. The confinement cell at Waikeria consists of a small walled court, and a cell in which is a bed. It is uncomfortable — and meant to be—with the result that offenders against prison discipline are not frequent. There are no chains and balls of iron! Doubtless some types of prison reformers will be surprised at this. These are the buildings. On the hills around are the warders’ cottages—neat concrete buildings, clean and cosy looking. The settlement is a unique one. (To be continued.)