Tthe Coddling Criminals Condensed from Scribner's Magazine (May '26) Judge Charles C. Nott, Jr. HE so-called "coddling" system in the New York State prisons has had at least a 12-year swing, and if its reformatory effects amounted to anything substantial, the proportion of second offenders serving now would be substantially less than it was 15 years ago. But it is nothing of the sort. In 1915, the proportion of inmates previously convicted of felony imprisoned in State's prisons was 39 per cent; in 1924 it was 44 per centboth according to the official report of the Superintendent of State's Prisons for those respective years. A prison is and necessarily must be a most unfavorable place to effect a reformation of the individual. Reformation is a work requiring individual effort of a high order of spiritual quality upon the individual sought to be reformed; it requires 1 favorable environment and associa tions, and long-continued watchfulness and care. None of these conditions is or can be found in a prison. I am extremely sceptical of the possibility of the spiritual reformation of a body of men en masse, but the inmates of a State's prison are a body-a large body of men and individual work upon them can, from the nature of the case, be but short-lived and haphazard. Each convict is continuously surrounded by other convicts. so the environment is neither uplifting nor stimulating to reformation-and those people who think that the furnishing of baseball games, movies, theatrical shows, banquets, and flowers is in itself reformation of sin or effects refor mation of sin, are quite capable of thinking that it would effect the reformation of indigestion. But still more unfortunate is the effect upon the efficacy of punishment as a deterrent which has been produced by treating it solely as an at tempt to rehabilitate the individual. Many prophesied years ago that carrying the softening of prison discipline to foolish lengths not only would accomplish little in the way of refor. mation, but would end in increasing crime-and their prophecies have been and are being fulfilled. When first offenders, before me for sentence, plead to be sent to Sing Sing and not to the Elmira Reformatory, as happens almost weekly, I know that they are not seeking reformation there, but rather a "soft snap" in comparison with the military discipline of the reformatory. In a recent number of the prison magazine printed at Sing Sing, I observed that during the baseball season the local nine had played over 100 games with outside visiting nines, viewed by the prison inmates from a concrete grand stand; that during the theatrical season there had been a theatrical performance nearly every Friday evening by various companies, many presenting the best shows in New York, to see which the unconvicted citizen has to pay $5 or $6 a seat; and the movies while away the tedium of almost all of the other nights of the week. The hours of work are much shorter than those of the ordinary working man; and until very recently, if the fastidious palate of any prisoner were offended by the prison fare, he was allowed, if possessed of the price, to buy special food for himself and have it specially cooked and privately served. In addition to this, the terms of imprisonment are enormously and unreasonably cut down by "commutation for good conduct" and by "compensation for efficient and willing service," and, in addition, by paroles from the Parole Board, which, as in the recent notorious Brindell case, may be granted to prisoners whose conduct has been notoriously bad. What has happened is that, the prisons being overcrowded, every prisoner has been liberated almost as a matter of course on the expiration of the minimum of his sentence. Moreover, under the Indeterminate Sentence Law, the trial judge is not allowed to fix the minimum of the sentence at more than one-half of the possible maximum, without regard to the gravity of the offense committed. The effect has been to cut in half the sentence of any first offender, no matter how heinous the offense. In addition, time for "compensation for efficient service" is now deducted from the minimum of the sentence. The sentence of a second offender is cut down by both "commutation" and "compensation." If the State confines its prisoners in sanitary prisons, segregates the first offenders from the "secondtimers," affords opportunity for education and self-improvement, teaches a useful trade and helps discharged convicts to obtain employment, it has discharged its duties to them, and not only is under no obligation to make their term of imprisonment easy and agreeable, but should refrain from doing so, substituting a strict and firm discipline for the recreational methods now in vogue. Obtaining work for convicts upon discharge is one of the most beneficient means of promoting their welfare and preventing a relapse into crime. It is often stated that punishment as a deterrent is a failure, because in the 18th century there were 40 hanging offenses, and yet crime was more prevalent then than now. In reply to this it may be freely conceded that a law that is not enforced and punishment that is not imposed is never a deterrent. To test whether or not punishment is a deterrent, one must find out how it would work if it were certain to be inflicted. For example, let each reader ask himself whether he would break the Volstead law tomorrow if he positively and certainly knew that he would spend a year in the Atlanta Penitentiary if he broke it. Whatever answer the reader makes to this question will be the same answer that the burglar, the robber, would make to the analog. ous question put to him. As to pun ishment in the 18th century, there was no police force as we know the word now-only "the watch" that circulated slowly and with great publicity through certain streets at night, and the sheriffs to serve warrants; there was absolutely no detective force, no finger-prints, Bertillon measurements or rogues' galleries; no telegraphs, telephones, or any means of communication between places rapid enough to head off a criminalin short, if the criminal made his "getaway" from the scene of his crime he was safe. Under those circumstances the law made the consequences so appalling in case the crim inal were caught that only the bold. est would have dared commit crime if arrest had been even probable. The real question is, "Would there have been more crime or less crime in that age if the penalty had been less severe?"-not whether there was more crime then than now--and no student of those times can be in doubt as to the answer. Crime is not less in the 20th than in the 18th century because punishment has been diminished; but punishment has been diminished because crime is less. No one is in favor of making punishment more severe than is necessary to accom plish its end. But when punishment is so relaxed as to become no punishment at all and is so frequently escaped as to warrant the assumption it will be escaped altogether, then there can be no wonder that it fails to act as a deterrent. Such is the condition existing in the United States today, and such it is certain to continue until the day arrives when pun. ishment is restored to its true func tion as a deterrent, and is made rea sonably certain in its infliction. War Antidotes Condensed from The Saturday Evening Post (April 24, '26) AR, as a scourge of the human race, has many of the characteristics of disease. If we knew more about the causes of it, we could certainly prevent some of the outbreaks and perhaps in time nearly all of them. At present we have developed only to that point where, emotionally, we oppose the horrors of war, which in itself is no small achievement. But thus far we haven't done a great deal more than to adopt resolutions. They show, however, that the will for action exists. Beyond doubt we desire to outlaw war. But how? Not so long ago we desired to outlaw yellow fever, also typhoid. Patient research in the laboratory, seeking facts, building theories and testing them by experiments, tireless devotion to the task, finally led to victory. Now, war has its germs no less than disease. For example, we know one great truth about war that supplies us with a point of beginning for profit able investigation. It is, briefly, that the original irritation begins in a small area and spreads over a very large one. For instance, there may be a dispute about a boundary line between two countries. As time goes on the irritation spreads and new centers of infection appear. Emotional forces come into action, and the area of the dispute becomes so wide that it enters into virtually every phase of the relations between the two countries. They no longer remember where the row started, but each is certain it hates the other. They are then ready for war. Now let us transfer this procedure into a scientific field-medicine, for instance-and see how absurd and injurious its effects. The physician, Instead of seeking to diagnose the case and effect a cure at the original point of infection, would be engaged in an argument relating to it. He would devote so much time to the argument that eventually his patient would be diseased from head to foot. By that time diagnosis would have lost its importance, since the patient was doomed anyway. Nevertheless, in the field of international relations this has been just about the usual course. Early diagnosis has seldom been attempted on a scientific basis of fact finding. Eventually the infection spreads until the situation seems to demand the rough surgery of war. Utterly unscientific. From time to time the world is startled by statements of members of Congress or the British Parliament or some other legislative body representing a great nation. If it happens, as it often does, that the statements are absurdly inaccurate, the man who made them is rebuked by informed public opinion. But if the public lacks information on the point in question, or is so prejudiced as to be eager to believe, then great harm may follow. This situation has arisen scores of times, and invariably when the facts were known the public based its judg. ment upon them just as soon as they could be disseminated. Such experience ought to guide us toward preventive measures against war. How? By employing facts as a prophylactic. Not only are they effective in safeguarding the public from inflamma. tion but I believe they would also prevent men in responsible positions from making inaccurate declarations. We need facts. Even if every nation were immediately to bind itself to arbitrate every imaginable dispute, we would still need the facts. We couldn't even begin to arbitrate without them. One will naturally inquire whether research or science could be vantageously applied in this field. My answer is that there can be no doubt of it. Facts can be applied in any field. Our curse is ignorance. But, one may ask, hasn't every great nation elaborate machinery for providing itself with these facts? Ambassadors and foreign departments of foreign relations do the best they can, but they are not fact-gathering organizations in the scientific sense, nor do they dare to direct their policies upon a basis of fact. Some. times they are forced by the pressure of public opinion, inflamed by passion or misinformation or both, to adopt courses that they themselves know cannot be justified by the facts. Experience teaches them very quickly that they must obey the popular will at least in very large measure, and this was true even before the era of representative government. Ancient tyrants no less than presidents of republics have been thrust into war against their better judgment because of popular clamor. Political officials, as a rule, do not dare to base their policies upon facts with which the public is unacquainted. When the Dawes Plan was presented to the conference of London, in each country the report was received with disappointment by those who held extreme views. But the conference lasted many weeks. During this time the people of Europe had an oppor. tunity to think it over. They knew that this plan was evolved by a process of fact finding and that the men who drew it had no political motives. They had come to Paris to do their best to get at the truth and suggest practical means for using it. Little by little the extreme views which would have made adoption of the report impossible melted away and finally the Dawes Plan was accepted. Here was a notable victory for this form of procedure, because it showed that a sincere effort to arrive at the impartial truth would be appreciated even when public opinion was feverish. Such a demonstration of the of the masses-not reasonableness only in one country but in several simultaneously-ought to serve us in the future as a guide in our efforts to prevent war. We have a desire for peace, but we have not yet established an agency whose exclusive duty it is to study how to achieve peace. We have an industry of foreign relations, but we have no science. Consequently we have misinformation and half truths where we should have facts. It is not enough to summon a small group of impartial men and intrust them with the task of getting at the facts after an emergency has arisen and passionate nationalism is aroused. We ought to have permanent organi zations to carry on this work in season and out. In nearly every coun try there are a few men engaged in such efforts. But the value of their work is depreciated by the fact that in this field of investigation correlation scarce. ly exists. Until the efforts of widely scattered men are interrelated there cannot be a scientific approach to ward peace. Nowadays virtually all scientific endeavor is on a cooperative basis, not only nationally but inter nationally. A great reservoir of facts on subjects that cause irritation between nations could be assembled and placed at the disposal of the public as well as those who have to deal with those problems in the administrative field. Once such a reservoir of facts was known to exist, it is only reasonable to assume that public officials who receive alarming rumors would make use of it before committing themselves by public utterance or taking drastic action. No man willingly risks the ridicule that comes from spouting ig norance if he knows that there is in existence an agency that can and will overwhelm him with the blunt truth. I believe it is possible to establish such an institution, and that it can perform the assigned task of fact finding so much better than any other agency now in existence that the people will beat a path to its door and (Continued on page 74) The Rise of Roland Hayes Condensed from The Menter (May '26) W. J. Henderson, Music Critic, New York Sun OLAND HAYES, a colored man, has been accepted in all the artistic centers of the world as a great singer. He started to work when a boy, in an iron mill in Chattanooga. He also sang in the church choir. Happened to come along another Negro, Arthur Calhoun, from Oberlin College, a singing teacher, who heard the boy sing and after the service suggested to him that he should study the art. The boy laughed. He "didn't want no lessons." Calhoun followed him persistently and persuaded him to take a few lessons in spite of the mother's opposition. Then he sang an important part in a cantata at a concert in Chattanooga and made such an impression that he became seriously interested in sing ing. William Stone, of the Chatta nooga Times, heard about the lad and helped him with money. He applied for admission to the musical department of Fisk University. Miss Jenny Robinson, head of the department, heard him and gave him a month's trial to ascertain how studious ue was. He also took the course in literature, and waited on the table to earn money. He did that and other odd jobs about the college for four years. known and the curiosity of royalty was aroused. In the midst of a coal famine, shivering in his shabby room in a cheap hotel, he received a command to sing at Buckingham Palace before their majesties. That led to his giving his first famous concert in Wigmore Hall, when the critics acclaimed him as a great artist. He sang in Germany, where he was praised for his German and his deep understanding of the lyrics. He returned to his own country to find that doors that had been closed were now open to him. He has since sung as soloist with the leading orchestras of the country. But when the Boston Symphony Orchestra engaged this young man who had worked as a waiter and a clerk, and bade the residents of the Back Bay district pay their money to listen to him, it meant that, in so far as these United States were concerned, Hayes was received into the aristocracy of art. When his college course was ended he went to work in a men's social club as a waiter. While thus employed he went with the Fisk singers to Boston to sing in a concert, and that was the end of his preparatory struggles. Arthur Hubbard, a teacher of singing, took him up and gave him lessons while he worked as a clerk in a business office. He finally got together enough money to give his first concert, which took place in the Boston Symphony Hall on Nov. 15, 1917. Only by the most resolute persistence did he battle through the next three years, slowly winning public recognition. Then he went to London, where the newspapers made him He made his first appearance in New York in a recital in the Town Hall on Dec. 1, 1923. It was then that the writer first heard him and was impressed by the quality of his art and his intelligence. In the rise of Mr. Hayes from an origin surrounded by poverty and ignorance to a position commanding the artistic and personal respect which he now enjoys we have one of the romantic histories of the art world and one of the biographical stories which we are fond of thinking belong peculiarly to our own country. This man, who was born on a level little above that of a slave, now carries himself before the public with the authority of a cultivated gentleman, sings in four languages with fluency and correct accent, is master of the great song literatures of Germany, Italy, France, England and the United States, and is welcomed with the most cordial applause wherever he appears. |