The Review, Volume I, No. 9, September 1911

In Short

This volume is a professional periodical published by the National Prisoners’ Aid Association in 1911. It compiles legislative updates, field reports from various states, and opinion pieces concerning prison labor, domestic relations courts, and the moral administration of jails. By documenting the tension between profit-driven convict leasing and the emergent, more humane emphasis on state-run work farms and rehabilitation, it provides an unfiltered look at the systemic anxieties of the Progressive Era. Its longevity stems from its status as a foundational record of early twentieth-century American penal philosophy.

The Story

The narrative arc of this volume tracks the slow, often contentious movement away from the "menagerie" style of nineteenth-century imprisonment toward a more structured, state-managed approach. The story begins with the cold economics of the prison labor problem. E. Stagg Whitin opens the discussion by identifying the 13th Amendment as the legal bedrock for the state’s property right in a prisoner’s labor, arguing that the existing systems of leasing convicts to private enterprise are inherently unjust. The progression of the text moves from this abstract economic critique to tangible, state-level implementation. We see New Jersey, for instance, attempting to dismantle the competitive open-market sale of prison-made goods, favoring instead a "preferred market" where state institutions produce only what the state itself consumes.

As the argument unfolds, the focus shifts from factories to the soil. The success of Sheriff Henry S. Porter in Plymouth County serves as a case study for this transition; by moving prisoners from the inefficient, soul-crushing work of cane-seating chairs indoors to the open air of a county-run farm, he demonstrates that productivity and health are not mutually exclusive. This theme of "redeeming" the inmate through labor is echoed in California and Michigan, where reports highlight how prison farms provided fresh food, professional skills, and a sense of dignity that traditional cells destroyed.

However, the volume does not shy away from the darker reality of the era’s urban detention centers. It provides a stark contrast to the rural farm success stories by detailing the overcrowding in New York City’s district prisons, where "doubling up" in tiny cells is the norm, and young men are packed into pens described as smaller than cattle cars. The story then pivots to the social consequences of these failures, introducing the Domestic Relations Court as a necessary intervention for the "poor man’s court," where magistrates attempt to mediate abandonment and ensure financial support for families—a recognition that crime is often a symptom of economic instability.

The arc concludes with a forward-looking call to action. The final segments report on the American Association of Criminal Law and Criminology, where leaders like Governor Foss argue that prisons should function like hospitals, curing the "disease" of criminality rather than deepening it. The volume ends not with a resolution, but with a platform for future change: the demand for indeterminate sentences, the abolition of the "dark cell," and the urgent necessity of segregating youth from hardened offenders.

How It Unfolds

The legislative foundation begins by dissecting the 13th Amendment’s role in justifying penal labor, transitioning into a technical critique of how states manage the production and distribution of prison-made commodities.

The shift to the farm illustrates the practical success of outdoor labor through the specific example of Plymouth County, where replacing indoor "cane-seating" with agricultural work improved both inmate health and county budgets.

The urban crisis interrupts this progress report with a visceral account of overcrowding in New York City jails, highlighting the dehumanizing practice of forcing multiple inmates into single cots.

The domestic intervention introduces the Domestic Relations Court as a specialized response to poverty and desertion, demonstrating how the legal system began to address the family as a unit rather than punishing the individual in isolation.

The call for rehabilitation moves the focus from physical conditions to moral reform, showcasing efforts in Georgia and Massachusetts to replace punishment with libraries, education, and honors-based systems.

The final assessment synthesizes these disparate threads, arguing that the future of the prison system lies in state-centralized control, scientific management, and the eventual replacement of "barbaric" cells with modern, sanitary, and rehabilitative environments.

The People

The figures in these pages are divided between the administrators seeking reform and the populations they manage. E. Stagg Whitin acts as the analytical voice, framing the economic injustice of the "slave system" inherent in convict leasing. Sheriff Henry S. Porter represents the pragmatic reformer, a man who fights off skeptical county commissioners to prove that inmates can be productive and healthy on a farm. Magistrates Harris and Cornell emerge as the human faces of the law; they prioritize tact and sympathy, acting as mediators who attempt to navigate the complex, often tragic lives of immigrant families in the Domestic Relations Court. Finally, the "trusty" prisoners are the subjects of these experiments; they are transformed in the reports from "dangerous animals" into men capable of clearing land, building cellhouses, and supporting their families through their own hard-earned wages.

In Its Own Voice

"The state’s property right in the prisoner’s labor exists by virtue of the 13th Amendment of the Constitution of the United States which provides that slavery or involuntary servitude may be a punishment for crime, after due process of law."

The author establishes the legal, albeit problematic, justification for the prison labor industry.

"The ‘doubling up’ was occasioned by a lack of cell space for the male prisoners."

This observation highlights the squalid conditions that often contradicted the lofty rhetoric of the era's reform movements.

"I realize that these measures are the extreme and radically opposite to the customary prison methods; and it may be necessary to proceed cautiously in following them."

Governor Foss acknowledges the uphill battle faced by those attempting to replace punitive traditions with humane, science-based rehabilitation.

What It's Really About

This volume explores the evolution of the prisoner from a source of cheap, disposable labor into a subject of social and economic rehabilitation. The central argument is that the "slave system" of convict leasing is not only morally abhorrent but economically inefficient. The text interrogates the state's responsibility to provide meaningful work, sanitary housing, and family support, ultimately asking whether the purpose of prison is to break the spirit or to restore the individual to society. It captures the transition from a nineteenth-century desire for containment to a twentieth-century aspiration for social engineering, questioning how much of a person’s humanity remains under the control of the state.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of the American justice system will find this volume invaluable for its lack of modern retrospective smoothing; it presents the raw, sometimes contradictory arguments of early twentieth-century reformers. The prose is functional and reportorial, reflecting the serious, bureaucratic tone of the era’s social reformers. While the text is occasionally dense with legislative detail and references to long-defunct committees, it offers a fascinating look at how the "prison problem" was framed before the rise of modern mass incarceration. You will encounter the period’s specific anxieties regarding immigration and the influence of European prison models, which provide a sharp sense of the intellectual climate of 1911. What stays with you is the haunting realization that many of the core issues—overcrowding, the failure of the courts to support the families of the incarcerated, and the debate over the morality of profit-seeking prison labor—remain unresolved. It is a dense, challenging read, but it serves as a vital mirror for anyone wondering how the current American carceral landscape took its early, shaky shape.