1901 - Jail

It was a foreboding sight on Barton Street East at the turn of the century. A pile of stone formed into a jail, the exterior of which was very familiar to most Hamiltonians, the interior of which was known to only a select few.

        On October 5, 1901, a reporter with Hamilton’s youngest of its three daily newspapers went to great lengths to tell the readers of his paper, the Hamilton Herald what it was like inside the Barton street Jail, or as it was also known Ogilvie’s Castle in reference to the man in charge of the facility.

        In 1901, the Hamilton Herald was barely into its twelfth year of existence, competing with its two long-established rivals, the Spectator and the Times.

        The Herald specialized in the type of first person, detailed descriptions of local, events, personalities and institutions.

        The Herald reporter started his description of what was formally known as the Wentworth County Jail by bringing his readers along with him as he entered the yard in front of the main entrance to the building:

        “Immediately a person passes through the iron gate leading to grounds, he notices that cleanliness and order prevail. Governor Ogilvie is an amateur florist and takes delight in having the grounds made attractive.

        “Within the prison precincts, also, every place is scrupulously clean; the corridors are swept daily, and scrubbed weekly.

        “There are sixty cells in the institution, but they are always full. The authorities never advertise vacancies.”

        In 1901, the jail on Barton Street was twenty-six years old, having been built by contractor John Taylor in 1875 at a cost of $70,000.

        The jail’s chief administrator in 1901 was Governor James Ogilvie. He had assumed that office in 1885, having previously been employed as station master at the Great Western Railway station on Stuart Street West.

        Ogilvie insisted upon strict order at the Barton Street and everything was done to routine and regulation including what was served at meals:

        “The food is properly prepared and a necessary quantity provided.

“Here is the bill of fare:

“Breakfast, 7:15 – Half a pound of bread, pint of skilly made of oatmeal and cornmeal; water

“Dinner, 12 – Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday, half a pound of bread, half-pound of potatoes, five ounces beef. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, half a pound of bread, pint of vegetable soup (three ounces of beef are put in the beef for each person, also barley, etc.)

“Supper, 5 – Same kind of diet as for breakfast.

“For people about 60 years of age, invalids and insane, what is known as hospital diet is the rule. They are also allowed butter and tea.

“The food set before them at the first meal is not always taken, but this antipathy to the diet is soon overcome, and the inmates seldom complain of the fare. They become healthy and strong upon the plain diet.

“On Sundays, supper is partaken of one hour earlier, thus enabling the prisoners – no, no, the turnkeys! – to visit the church they attend.

“Religious services are held in the building on Sundays by the rector of St. Matthew’s Church, also priests of St. Mary’s Cathedral. The Salvation Army sends representatives on Wednesday afternoon. The various religious services are appreciated by the unfortunates who make up the congregation, and they join heartily in the singing.”

The inmates at the Barton Street were expected to work, and there was no choice in what was expected from them:

“During working hours, the men are engaged in cutting wood and breaking stone. For several years, the wood dispensed for charity was cut in the jail, The women do the washing, and when there are no women, the men do the washing.

“On holidays, no work is done. At Christmas, the inmates are regaled with plum pudding, and the sheriff, being kind-hearted, thinks of those in prison and sends down some fruit.”

The routine of the prisoners as regards personal hygiene and recreation was closely defined :

“Saturday is bath day and shaving day. Each person shaves himself, and passes the razor along to the ‘next.’ When men are awaiting trial, they are not allowed to shave, for perchance it would be dangerous to let them have the use of a razor.

“In their spare time, the men play checkers using pieces of mortar or old buttons and marking out the squares on the floor with a piece of chalk. Some prefer reading, but literature is scarce. The sheriff would be pleased to acknowledge the receipt of any disused books or papers citizens may send.”

If there were any behaviour problems with a particular inmate, there were options for punishment:

“In the last annual report, there was one case of corporal punishment. Sheriff Middleton and Governor Ogilvie are strong in favour of this form of punishment. The sheriff thinks that kindness should be meted out to a certain extent, but a line must be drawn somewhere. He thinks that were the cat-o’-nine-tails used more frequently it would have a deterrent effect upon a certain class of criminals. In cases of indecent assault, the governor expressed the view that the lash was the cure.”

Fortunately, the lash was infrequently used at the jail:

“Those in jail, as a rule, are well-behaved, and apparently contented, for the time being, with their lot. In Barton Street Jail, the lights are put out at nine o’clock and peace reigns, for the prisoners sleep just as soundly as though they were in a first-class hotel.”

Young offenders drew special attention from the governor of the jail:

“The governor is always particular in looking after the conduct of youths who come under his care. They are kept from men prisoners as much as possible, and he makes a practice of advising them as to their future welfare when leaving prison.”

Contraband materials seemed to be present at the jail, despite the rules forbidding pipes or cigarettes:

“No tobacco is allowed the prisoners by the authorities. But, it is a well-known fact that many pieces of chewing tobacco are thrown over the jail wall, and these pieces are eagerly sought for.”

Finally, the routine for the reception and dismissal of inmates was closely prescribed:

“When a prisoner is taken to jail, his name is duly recorded. And, by a cleverly-arranged system in the shape of a movable calendar, the date of expiration of sentence can always be noted at a glance. This table is for the use of the governor – the prisoner never forgets.

“Before donning the prison clothing, if required, a bath is ordered. Oftentimes the clothes of a newcomer are in such condition that they have to be burned. If he has no friends to provide him with a wardrobe when he term is finished, why, of course, they are provided in some other way.”

While the Herald man might not have described absolutely everything about conditions at the Barton Street Jail, his article did clear up some of the mystery surrounding the institution for readers who would never have occasion to actually enter the jail.