THE PRINCIPE PRISON IN CUBA.

[From the Galveston News we take the following interesting account of General Castillo’s main prison.]

Cuba boasts that Principe Prison, its national penitentiary, is one of the model prisons of the world. Officials of foreign governments who have made lifelong studies of prison conditions have declared it to be as near a model prison as one can be made. It is ten years old and within that time only one prisoner has ever escaped, and he, after a few days’ liberty, voluntarily gave himself up and asked to be returned to his section. Within it have been confined desperate criminals of world-wide reputation, but they have never succeeded in getting by prison vigilance.

Principe Prison, or Castillo de Principe, Castle or Fort of the Prince, is one of the historic points of Havana, and its history is closely interwoven with that of the city. It was built in 1774 and completed in 1794, and was then considered one of the strongest fortresses on the Western Hemisphere. There is a legend that it was built chiefly by French and Spanish engineers, who upon its completion were put to death lest they might divulge some of the secret tunnels and defenses.

It is situated on Principe Hill, about two miles west of the national palace, and overlooks the entire city. It has five bastions and is surrounded by a moat fifty feet wide, twenty feet deep and loopholed for rifle fire upon both sides. There is an ancient drawbridge at the main entrance, but it has been out of use many years. The scarp walls are about forty feet above the moat and are crowned with medieval sentry boxes and lookout stations. There are many secret passages leading from Principe to various other fortifications, but these were hermetically sealed during the provisional administration of General Leonard Wood. The principal one extends to Morro and Cabanas castles across the bay, a distance of two and one-half miles. The governor of the prison is General Demetrio del Castillo, and Lieutenant Colonel Tomas Garzon is assistant.

Cuba is thoroughly modern in her treatment of prisoners. The terrible “third degree” is an unknown quantity. There is no whipping post nor “chamber of horrors” at Principe. Solitary confinement in a well ventilated cell, equipped with toilet and shower bath and a wall berth is the usual punishment. The prisoners are not only taught industrial trades, but are given the elementary branches of schooling. Even some study music, painting and sculpturing. The government employs twenty instructors, most of them being graduates, to teach the 400 “pupils.” There is a prison library, an orchestra and a brass band. The band is the pride of the prisoners and is composed of forty musicians and taught by a professional teacher. Several “lifers” are members, who took up the study of music after they were sentenced, and are now what might be considered tip-top musicians.

Of the 1,380 prisoners, 36 are politicians who took part in the Estonez negro uprising in 1912. There are twenty-six “lifers” sent up for assassination and highway robbery. The majority are robbers and thieves, with a scattering of murderers. The race percentages are: White 64, black 37 and mulatto 17 per cent.

The prison guard consists of eighty-two men and a small clerical force in charge of the office. The prisoners are not put in stripes, but instead wear a cool uniform of white duck, which is changed twice a week. When working they wear a brand of overalls made from palm thatches.

The big court yard, which covers more than an acre, has a flower garden, neatly trimmed and laid off in beautiful squares and walks and dotted with shrubbery and royal palms. The proceeds from the sale of flowers go to a prison fund. Prisoners who can not do manual labor make hammocks and other grass products. These they are allowed to sell and the proceeds go to their families. If single, a fund is kept by the warden against their release. Six hours is a day’s work.

During the evening the band gives a concert in the court yard, and all prisoners are allowed to attend, notwithstanding the facts that the music can be heard perfectly from the casemates.

Workmen in the shops are allowed 25 cents plata per day, while those outside receive 35 cents. This is also either sent to their families or kept in the release fund. They receive no pay for government work.

The men in the clothing and shoe shops are worked on contract goods which are sold to Havana mercantile establishments, and they also make clothing for the prisoners. Shoes run in price from $1.10 to $5 per pair. Were it not for the heavy import on leather these prices could be nearly cut in half. The higher grade of shoes sell in the retail market for $6 and $7. Clothing is made from 50c. to $15 a suit. Beautiful white duck and linen and other tropical garments are turned out that look about as well as suits made by many first-class tailoring establishments. There has been some trouble with the labor unions, who complain against competing with “convict labor,” but these complaints have never assumed serious proportions. Ordinarily the casemates are used for workrooms, but the shoe and clothing factories are ramparts “hollowed” out and remodeled. An effort has been made to work the Principe prisoners in road building, but for some reason or other Congress has never allowed it. General Castillo built a sample road near the prison and invited members of congress to test it, but they continue to refuse to allow the government to be saved thousands of dollars annually by employing the convicts upon the public roads. Another feature that meant an annual saving of thousands was a proposed printing establishment, where the government printing could be done. This scheme progressed finely for awhile, and floor space was made by changing several casemates into a large hall and machinery ordered, but at the last moment the newspapers and printing establishments began to hammer the proposition and the government abandoned it.

“But how would you get prisoners competent to do the work?” was asked Colonel Garzon.

“Well,” he replied, “we would be compelled to hire experts at first and keep an eye for printers in other prisons, and also inform the police to be extra vigilant. It wouldn’t be long before we would have a competent force.”

The sanitary conditions of Principe are perfect or as nearly perfect as a medical staff of fifteen physicians can make them. The floors, walls and roofs of the entire prison are of Cuban stone and are “sluiced” twice a day. The “dormitories” are large, airy casemates and both ends are covered by steel bars which make a window fifteen feet square. A continuous sea breeze blows through them. The berths or bunks extend in one tier on each side of the casemate and are made to fold up against the wall. The “bed clothes” consist of two duck sheets and a blanket for cool weather, which are changed twice a week. A row of shower baths completes the furniture and the inmates are required to take at least two baths a day.

There are three hospitals—the tuberculosis, contagious diseases and the “public” ward. They are upon the roof of the south bastion and face the sea. Their sanitation, according to the physicians, can not be improved upon. The “lungers” sleep practically out of doors, or rather with just enough overhead to protect them from the heavy tropical dews. So healthy and sanitary is the prison that very few cases of sickness occur. The majority of the inmates of the hospitals are those sick, principally with consumption, when they arrive.

There has never been an insurrection or mutiny in Principe. In fact, scores of prisoners when released at the end of their terms have asked Colonel Garzon to save their “cup and pan,” and invariably they return to use them. They really fare better “inside” than “outside.” The average Cuban of the criminal type has but few necessities of life, and these of the barest.

“How do you manage to keep the prisoners so orderly and apparently well satisfied?” was asked General Castillo.

“We try to make them contented,” he replied. “We have a band that gives concerts in the court yard. We let them study, work them, feed them well, keep them sanitary, study each one personally and let them know they must obey the regulations. Each man knows he will get fair and impartial treatment. If one gets into trouble (and fist fighting is the only trouble we have), we simply put him in solitary confinement. There is nothing that hurts a Cuban prisoner as badly as to keep him from talking and away from his associates, and besides, those in solitary confinement are not allowed tobacco. We never prevent them from talking with one another, and besides, each man gets two months off of each year for good behavior. We hope to put the prison upon a self-supporting basis during the present administration.”

In 1905, Juan Jose Garcia, serving a ten-year sentence for highway robbery and holding a rich farmer for ransom, escaped. He, with a squad of prisoners, was working outside the walls, and during a severe rainstorm, he made a successful dash for liberty. He had four years to serve. His escape was reported to the warden and the usual reward offered for his arrest.

Some days later General Castillo was going into Havana by automobile, when a man stepped into the road in front of the machine and held up his hand for it to stop. “What do you want?” inquired the general. “I am Juan Jose Garcia. I ran away from the prison last week, but want to return. I have been dogged and chased by the officers and am worn out and starving.”

“It serves you right,” said General Castillo. “You have been a very, very bad prisoner, and moreover, I can’t keep such men as you in my prison. You ruin discipline and break the rules.”

“But,” Garcia pleaded, “if you will just give me one more trial I’ll promise never to run away again.”

“I am very busy to-day, but go up to the prison and if Colonel Garzon will take you back I suppose it will be all right.”

That occurrence is one of General Castillo’s pet anecdotes and he tells it with much enthusiasm and never fails to impress one that it is the only case on record in Cuba that an escaped convict begged to be readmitted to jail.

“General Castillo,” “gobernador del presido de la republica de Cuba,” is a noted soldier of the Cuban war of independence, and one of the island’s foremost men of affairs. He was educated in the United States and later graduated with high honors from the Royal French School of Engineers and he is what might be termed thoroughly “Americanized” from a modern business point of view. He has made a special study of foreign prisoners and is perhaps as thoroughly conversant with prison conditions as any official in the world.

He arose to the rank of general, commanding a division during the war of independence and took part as such in the Santiago campaign. After the surrender he was selected by General Brook as the civil governor of Santiago. He was appointed to his present position by Governor Magoon. His son, Demetrio, Jr., is a graduate of the United States Military Academy.

Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Garzon is also a veteran in the war of independence and commanded a regiment of regular troops. He keeps in close touch with prison affairs and makes a personal study of each convict. He goes through the prison at all hours unarmed, and some two years ago disarmed a coterie of prisoners who were planning trouble by walking into the casemate where they were confined and ordering them to turn over their crude weapons. That was the first and only time anything that savored of an insurrection has ever occurred.