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T is pretty generally agreed that the State-use system is a step in prison reform. Perhaps the best evidence of it is the way wardens, keepers, and politicians as well as the contractors have opposed its inauguration. Penologists and laymen indorse State use. What the prisoners think we don't know, because nobody ever thought to ask prisoners. We may assume that convicts would be against any system that exploited their labor for the profit of contractors. Perhaps we shouldn't ask prisoners, but the fact that we never do is an indication of our general lethargic attitude toward the whole program of penal rehabilitation.

The employment of prison labor solely for the manufacture of articles for use in State institutions obviously is a step in advance over their employment for personal gain by a private contractor. The advantage is a little too obvious, in fact. It leads the public to assume, in the comfortable way it has of making optimistic assumptions in matters which do not directly concern its own welfare, that the solution of the prison employment

Underwood & Underwood

"Stir" Slaves

The State-Use System

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problem has been found in the State-use system.

There are good grounds for regarding it as a step in advance, but none at all for thinking it any seven-league stride. It exists in only four States, and in two of them, at least, it is administered with scandalous slackness, owing to politics, labor-union opposition, and the general apathy of the public toward prisons and their inmates.

The element of private gain from the forced labor of the State's prisoners is eliminated by the State-use system. The

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contractor is not called in to bid for the labor of the men and women in the State's prisons. His "instructor," as he terms his representative or overseer in the prison shop, to foster the delusion that the workers there are learning a trade, does not under the State-use system dominate the shop or occupy his fertile mind with schemes to get more work out of the prisoners.

The introduction of the State-use system makes a breach in the interlocking feudalisms of bureaucracy and cheapJohn business, in whose intricacies lurk the possibilities of graft and corruption in the thirty States which cling to some form of the contract system. No Milton F. Goodman, to mention only one contractor, can gain an ascendency in the prison system of a State which has Stateuse shops, such as he enjoys in the Middle West.

In the thirty years in which he or his firms have been handling prison-labor contracts, Milton F. Goodman, of Chicago, has established himself, not only as a millionaire, but as baron or overlord of a rich demesne. His retainers are bound to him, not by ties of affection or personal fealty, but as sharers in a lesser degree in the revenues of the barony.

Either they are selected by Mr. Goodman with a keen eye to their usefulness in the various and devious intrigues. which are indispensable in the successful operation of a vast prison-contract business or they naturally develop the qualities necessary and gravitate to the posts for which they are best fitted. It is a well-nigh perfect business machine which Milton F. Goodman has built up. His Reliance Manufacturing Company has become the symbol of contract labor.

The Reliance Company became involved as recently as 1924 in an investigation in Oklahoma into the relationship. between politics and the prison-contract system. Governor Walton, of Oklahoma, had assured organized labor during his campaign that he would eliminate the contract system from the prison shops of the State if he were elected. It was said, however, that he had given the Reliance Company to understand quite the contrary, and there was evidence that that corporation, whose subsidiaries handle prison-labor contracts, had subscribed $10,000 to the campaign fund of Gov

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MANUAL ARTS HIGH SCHOOL LIBRA

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ernor Walton. In view of the Governor's campaign pledge, this was regarded as most mysterious, for the Reliance Company was not in the habit of chucking money about in $10,000 lots where it would be picked up by any one hostile to the contract system. An effort was made to get to the bottom of the mystery and subpoenas were issued for R. R. Rader, of the Reliance Company, and for Eli H. Brown, attorney for the company. Both of them were outside the jurisdiction of the State, however, and they stayed where they were, content, apparently, to sacrifice a shirt contract.

THE State-use system not only puts an

end to the unholy alliance between prison contractors and politicians, but it reduces direct competition between prison-made goods and the products of free labor in the open market. Indirectly competition with free labor exists, obviously enough to have caused some criticism. It is a difficulty which is basic. So long as there is prison labor in wholesale quantities there is bound to be some competition with free labor.

As free individuals, before their imprisonment, the convicts were, of course, competing in the labor market with other free individuals. A comparatively small number of them, however, were garment makers or worked in brush shops or as printers or in any other given. Occupation. Their individual withdrawal from their trade made no perceptible difference in the competition for employment among the other members of the trade. But as convicts they are all lumped together and thrown into one. trade, adding perceptibly to the competition in that trade.

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Members of labor unions as individuals acquiesce in the prevailing opinion that convicts should be kept employed, but as union men and workers they protest bitterly when that employment happens to be the very trade in which they themselves are seeking a living. makes little difference to them that, owing to the inefficiency of prison labor, the output per individual of prison shops amounts to only about $3,500 as compared with the $8,000 output per individual in free shops.

The result is that a politician, mindful of the labor vote, hesitates to take the steps which might make even the Stateuse system of prison industry reasonably efficient, and there is no co-operation whatever among the States in utilization of prison-shop products under the Stateuse system.

With inter-State co-operation and without political considerations, there

Underwood & Underwood

THE OLD TYPE OF CELL
This Sing Sing cell is three feet wide by seven feet long.
The prisoner can hardly move in it.

would be an almost unlimited market for goods manufactured in prison shops under the State-use system. The fortyeight States and the thirty-one largest cities of the country spend all of $700,000,000 each year out of tax funds for public purchases. Not all the prison shops of the country, working at top speed under the most favorable conditions, could supply this demand.

Even to begin to supply it would require a complete reorganization of prison industries, a survey of resources and needs, the building and equipment of new shops, and a close co-operation among the States-no sign of which is now apparent. Arguments in favor of the scheme are plausible and the conception of the organization of prisons into an industrial chain, each link supported by the resources of its immediate vicinity and all contributing at cut rates to the public needs of the forty-eight States, is a pleasant one. It is, however, exceedingly remote.

In theory such a plan is perfect. It would be both logical and economical. It would enable the States to reverse the

present process of buying public supplies on a high market and selling prison labor on a low market. Virginia prisoners would produce tobacco for use in State institutions throughout the country; Michigan prisons would supply the furniture; cast-iron products would come from prisons in Pennsylvania; the entire country would be divided into co-operative zones for the production of public supplies for the various States.

T

HE 104 prisons of the forty-eight States, with a population now estimated at 100,000, each individual of which has been sentenced to hard labor, constitute a vast and shameful monument to inefficiency in this land where efficiency has been almost deified. Thirty States turn over their convicts to contractors to be exploited and are content to pocket a loss themselves in order thus to shirk the responsibility entailed by sentencing these men to hard labor. It isn't efficient; it isn't even respectable; but it does keep the prisoners busy.

The State-use system, the only step taken in advance in prison industry in

recent years, is somewhat more respectable. At least it eliminates bribery and exploitation for private gain. In its present state, however, it hardly may be called more efficient than the contract system. It does not keep the prisoners busy-at least not always. Ohio has got rid of the contract system and has acquired, with the State-use system, the "idle house."

In the "idle house" the convicts sit for hour upon hour with no employment more inspiring than the computation of the number of hours they must rust before their terms are up. There are 600 in the "idle house" in Ohio. When it becomes necessary to give them exercise, they are marched around and around the prison yard. So often have they made this dreary round of the "fools' parade" that prison wags swear that when they get out they are unable to "go straight." Organized labor succeeded in abolishing the contract system in New York in 1894. It was succeeded by the State-use system, regarded at the time as a triumph for humanity and intelligence. Pennsylvania and New Jersey are the other States, besides Ohio, which have it. The installation of the system in each case was with the approval or even at the urgent insistence of organized labor, but, having succeeded in establishing it, organized labor in some cases either forgot the subject entirely or even tried further to circumscribe the activities permitted to men in the prison shops.

In New York, in the year following the installation of the State-use system, union printers and the J. B. Lyon Company, of Albany, a local firm which

in the work, outlining a course of in-
struction and giving apprentice credit
for the time served by the prisoner in
the printing plant. A prisoner who
meets all the requirements of the union
during his stay in prison receives a union
card upon his release.

The prison printing shop does not do
all the State printing, by any means, nor
is it run at full capacity. In the six
years since it was established with the
co-operation of organized labor, twelve
prisoners have received union cards. In
1926 the total output of the plant, in
which seventy men were employed, was
valued at $75,000. The rest of the work
went to union shops, and will continue to
do so, it is explained, "until the prison
plant is ready to take it." The product
per man was small indeed for a year, but
better than the average in the case of
State-use shops, which is about $800.
State-use shops, hampered by politics,
rarely pay twenty-five per cent of the
cost of maintenance.

Other scattered unions here and there have shown a sense of responsibility for the changes wrought largely through their influence in prison industries and are co-operating with the prison authorities in an attempt to make prison workshops amount to something. In New York the clothing workers have assigned an instructor-worker to the Reformatory for Women to lend assistance in the experiment of manufacturing clothing for State institutions. The Boot and Shoe Workers' Union is helping establish a shoe shop in the Federal Prison at Leavenworth.

most States, and seems to labor leaders a more vital necessity than interest in State-use prison shops.

The general attitude of organized labor toward prison labor is exemplified by that of the executive secretary of the Indiana State Federation of Labor, who discovered that more than three hundred men in the Indiana prison were making reed furniture for a well-known furniture company.

"We don't like that," he said, "because it hurts free labor. If it doesn't hurt free labor here, then it does somewhere else. We understand that free labor does not make much reed and fiber furniture, but if the prison-made furniture was not dumped on the market people would have to buy some other kind."

He was rather vague as to what work could be done by prisoners which would not impinge somewhere upon the field of free labor, but suggested that they might be employed in the manufacture of articles for State institutions-in other words, recommending the State-use system as though there was some esoteric quality in supplies used by the State that differentiated them from supplies for private consumption.

In Arizona's attempt to start a prison cement plant we see how big business is also involved in blocking State use. When the bill was up, an agent from the cement trust breezed into town with a story of his company's plan to start a cement factory in Arizona. Not wishing to discourage industrial development, the Legislature dropped the bill. The agent never returned.

"It's unfair competition," says the O-OPERATION in prison industries by employer. "I can't compete when prison

virtually has a monopoly of public print-garment workers is significant, goods demoralize the market.”

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ing, saw to it that a law was passed which eliminated State printing as a prison trade. A similar law was passed in Indiana.

An elaborately equipped printing plant was set up recently in the Eastern State Penitentiary of Pennsylvania. Printing for the State and its institutions was to be done there, the plan being one which seemed at once economical for the State and beneficial to the prisoner, who was thus enabled to perfect himself in a lucrative trade. But the journeymen and employing printers, objecting to convict competition, brought political pressure to bear and the plant was abandoned.

The action of the printing trades in New Jersey offers a contrast to this attitude.

The prison industries of that State have been freed of politics, freed even from the control of the warden, who is a political appointee. They have a printing plant in the prison there, and the printers' union co-operates cordially

in however minor degree, for the needle
trades are those hardest hit by prison
labor, about $20,000,000 of the $50,-
000,000 worth of prison-contract goods
unloaded on the market being wearing
apparel. Both the United Garment
Workers and the Union Made Garment
Manufacturers have started organized
campaigns against the sale of garments
made under prison contract.

Real co-operation by labor unions for
the solution of the problem would be of
great assistance, and these beginnings,
great assistance, and these beginnings,
small as they are, have the elements of
success in them. For labor, through its
potential or actual political power to
limit the scope of State-use prison shops,
whose establishment was accomplished
largely at labor's insistence, has only
pushed the solution further into the
background. It must be remembered,
however, that labor's struggle against the
prison-contract system is still going on in

"It's not the amount," says free labor; "it's the principle of the thing. Free labor will not compete with convicts."

When a man takes his last stand upon the "principle of the thing," it's no use to pursue him further. It's no use to demand that he be consistent. This citadel he will defend to the last gasp, regardless of the flimsiness of the weapons at hand. It's the same old struggle, and whosever interests are invaded by the labor of prisoners is going to fight back. Here it is the worker defending his job, there it is the contractor defending his right to run his institutional sweat-shop. In this all-around battle for rights, profits, or control every one is considered but the prisoner. For his own sake it probably matters little, because there is only a hundred thousand of him; but the more we disregard him, the more of menace he is to us. And there are a hundred million of us.

H

The Asheville Convention

ERE in Asheville, a nest in the midst of the mountain-tops, the summer assembly grounds of nearly all Protestant denominations clustering around it within a radius of fifty miles, the Southern Dry Democrats have met and highly resolved that Alfred E. Smith, the Democratic nominee for President, shall not have the electoral votes of the solidly Democratic South.

One is tempted to smile at the thought of so small a gathering taking so large a contract. Their number hardly exceeded 250. Nearly half were women. A majority of the other half were preachers. Nearly all were innocent of what is commonly thought of as a working knowledge of practical politics.

We newspaper men-there were twenty-five of us, perhaps did smile at the outset. Then we began to realize that the leaders of this Conference were of those people who for fifteen years have had Congress jumping through the hoop at their word-jumping just the same when the hoop was covered with sheet iron as when it was covered with gauze paper. After that, we thought it wise to think twice before smiling too broadly. Involuntarily, there came to some of us the thought of the Spartans at the pass of Thermopylæ, of Gideon's band before the walls of Jericho.

Beyond any doubt, there was organized here a crusade of religious zeal. That without any reference to Governor Smith's church affiliation. Undoubtedly, there was religious prejudice here, but I do not believe that it was an actuating motive. These men and women felt that Governor Smith's political principles outrage their own religious principles, that his political practices would vitiate their moral achievements.

Just as undoubtable is the fact that the Asheville Conference was the beginning of a campaign of Democratic zeal. The people who participated in it were, almost without exception, hereditary Democrats. To most of them all of their lives a Southern Republican has been the height of the hideous, not to say of the heinous. They sincerely believed as they deliberated here that to turn the local and State affairs of the South into Republican hands would be to march straight into the arms of disaster. Yet these Democrats declared, with the exception of those from a single

By DIXON MERRITT

State, their fierce opposition to the Democratic nominee, their unfaltering determination to vote for the Republican nominee.

The exception was the representatives from South Carolina. That poor State nearly always finds itself in a position that makes nullification, secession, or bolting inevitable. It has a silly law by which one must take his Democracy straight or not at all; by which, if one scratches the nominee for President, one must scratch all other nominees. And this Conference was for supporting all Democratic nominees except Smith. What were the unfortunate South Carolinians to do? The Conference decided to let them depart in peace. They did depart, but in a few hours were back again, resolved, since they could not throw Jonah overboard, to sink the ship. There are few Republican candidates for office in South Carolina, anyway.

And so, with all Southern States represented-Missouri, Kentucky, Maryland, and all States south-the Conference resolved that Alfred E. Smith is not a regular Democrat, and that therefore no Democrat forfeits his regularity by refusing to support Alfred E. Smith. There are three counts to the indictment:

Alfred E. Smith is not a Democrat in good and regular standing because he bolted the party platform adopted at Houston.

He is not a Democrat because he forced the selection of John J. Raskob, a Republican, as Chairman of the Democratic National Committee.

He is not a Democrat because he is a creature of Tammany, and Tammany has been a traitor to every Democratic nominee from Tilden to Davis.

These charges may or may not be valid in logic or in fact, but, fortunately or unfortunately, political charges do not have to be proved. And there is enough of fact behind these, particularly when they are backed by the preacher, to salve the conscience of many a Southern Democrat who wants to vote against Smith and hesitates only because of the question of party regularity. Raskob, Tammany, and the prohibition telegram do not, indeed, sound like regular, tradi

tional Democracy to some who want to vote for Smith.

There is a fourth charge, not set forth in what may be called the platform adopted by the Conference, but mentioned in several of the speeches. It is that the Smith machine secured delegates to the Houston Convention by practices so sharp as to be dangerous to the political peace and dignity of the Nation. The representation was made to the Houston Convention in a petition, signed, but few knew the signatories. Chairman Robinson received it, referred to it, and filed it. He said there were signatures. Asked how many, he said, "Several." Pressed by a delegate for more definite information, he said, "Well, it looks as though there might be a million."

Bishop H. M. Du Bose of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, told the story of that petition here. He said that there were not a million signatures, but that there were almost exactly four hundred thousand. "And that," he added, "is enough to turn the scale."

If four hundred thousand Southern Democrats believe that Governor Smith secured delegates by irregular methods, if they resent it enough to vote against him, and if they are properly distributed, it is enough to turn the scale and to take the South out of the Democratic column for this year. But it is mighty hard to make three ifs stand up in a row.

The Conference was called by James Cannon, Jr., of Richmond, Virginia, a bishop of the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, and Dr. Arthur J. Barton, of Atlanta, Georgia, a Baptist clergyman and Vice-Chairman of the Anti-Saloon League of America. The latter served as chairman and the former as secretary of the Conference. They meant to have less than fifty conferees present. Against their wills, they got five times that number. But the issuing

of credentials of credentials was strictly guarded. Every person who sat in the Conference had to affirm, first, that he was a Democrat; second, that he was a Southerner; third, that he was dry. Officially, it was the conference of Dry Southern Democrats. One man from Ohio and one from Canada were seated as fraternal delegates. It was not exactly a conference of the States that seceded in 1861, (Please turn to continuation, page 560)

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Storm Signals in Tennis

ILLIAM T. TILDEN in the

W1

course of his remarkable athletic career has rebuilt and dramatized tennis all over the world. He has been architect and actor in a game that has experienced one of the most remarkable developments in the history of sport. It seems a pity that just at the time when the mass of the tennis public stood ready to add longdelayed personal popularity to his greatness the crash should have come. For, no matter what decision of expediency is made before these lines appear, whether for or against, and pending a rehearing of the whole matter in the near future, it was indeed a crash. The world of tennis owes Bill Tilden a debt that it is doing its best to repay-and with his own generous help-by the development of what some day will be almost a horde of young players who will put the technique of the game on a plane higher than it has known in all its long history. This great triumph cannot be taken from him.

Tennis is a game of forthright personalities. No other kind will get very far on the courts. And arrayed against Tilden in the decision that removed him from the Davis Cup team are personalities as dominant as his own. They felt that infraction of the player-writer rule was a vital blow to the standing of their beloved sport. But they should have known that Big Bill could no more forbear to write about it on the spot than he could forbear to talk about it, no matter what the prior agreement. Too bad they could not have barred all writing about the game by Davis Cup players for the period of the matches. and thrashed the whole thing out later, as it will have to be thrashed out, along with other infractions that have been glossed over.

༤༤

I sometimes feel that the player-writer rule has taken precedence over such matters as gift rackets and exorbitant expense accounts with an occasional gift automobile-because of the propaganda power it might give to certain personalities in their uncontrolled moods. There have been times when it has worked out that way. It must be remembered that in these days of newspaper syndicates a disgruntled champion can reach literally millions of readers,

By HERBERT REED (Right Wing)

while the governing body in his sport must rely on "statements," which have no money value in the editorial office, and so can never hope to catch up with the offending material. the offending material. At first blush, permission to write seems simple enough and innocent too, but modern civilization has complicated the matter. I have felt, too, that part of the trouble with the player-writer rule, the Ethiopian in the cord-wood, has been the hostility of the parties gathered in conference. In the vernacular, both have made concessions, but both have gone away from the council table "sore."

In a word, the capitalization of ath

William T. Tilden

letic ability in selling bonds, insurance, or even the plumbing fixtures that add to Jean Borotra's income, for instance, does not carry with it the power of publicity. And that power of publicity is perhaps more dangerous than ever just now, since in all sports the present temper of a large section of the public (the vastly expanded sports public that is looking for a "show") seems to be: "Ah, who cares? Let him make all the money he wants. He's champion, ain't he?" I shall return to the syndicated article later.

For the moment let us to the personalities of a few men set over against Tilden, President Collom of the U. S. L. T. A., and Joe Wear, in charge of the American Davis Cup team, and incidentally townsmen of Tilden: Holcombe Ward is a man who has stood four square against even the very slightest taint of professionalism, even any mere suspicion of a drift that way, ever since I first heard of him. He is hardly a compromiser, and he has the advantage of knowing that the present laissez-faire in all sports is a passing phase. There are literally hosts of tennis followers. who will say: "If Holcombe Ward says a thing is so, it is so. I am sorry, but I am content." Something of a reputation to have built up in the course of an active life on and off the courts! And there is Julian S. Myrick, of whom it may be said with justice that modern tennis from the administrative point of view owes him a debt that it never can repay. It may be, as Tilden and Richards have often said, that he has sometimes considered himself the czar of the tennis world. No doubt he has. At all events, he and Tilden have waged open warfare for years.

What Myrick did in the earlier days was to give the game new life by taking

it away from Newport, where for so many years it was a mere appanage of society. That was an accomplishment against which at the time the betting was heavy. Later came the West Side Tennis Club, which is today to tennis what Meadow Brook is to polo. How much influence he has had in the late unpleasantness I do not know, as he is out of office, but I suspect that he has given counsel, as he always will on any amateur sport. He has the friendship

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