See Canada's Prisons Through Their Eyes

JOSH HANSEN
KINSTON, ONTARIO

The first thing they should do upon entering the Kingston Penitentiary Museum in Kingston is confiscate your imagination. You don’t need it. Not in here.

Unless you enjoy the thought of spending five minutes, let alone ten years, in an eight by eight concrete cell, or what the passing of cat-o-nine-tails across the back must have felt like before the method of corporal punishment was banned in the late-1960's. Then be my guest. Otherwise, prepare yourself for a look inside Canada’s Prison System and its incredible evolution over the last century.

For starters, it’s almost unthinkable that prison labour would be used in the construction of a warden’s house today. But 130 years ago, prisoners were easy to control and cheap. They built part of the original Kingston Penitentiary, Canada’s oldest jail, and the warden’s house, the site of this country’s penitentiary museum.

Standing guard across the street from the Kingston Penitentiary, CedarHedge, as it’s called, took three years of inmate labour (1870-1873) to complete. Built from limestone from the surrounding area, the Victorian structure shows little sign of its age and is architecturally seamless.

The lone drawback of the museum is the lack of an elevator for people with disabilities. The best exhibits are on the main floor anyway, while a virtual tour kiosk gives access to the two rooms on the second level.

Reform and Education

Up until the mid-1800s, prisons were viewed as a detention centre and nothing else. The thought was that prisoners, through time and segregation, would learn from their mistakes. For obvious reasons, the concept of self-reform didn’t work. Prisoners weren’t always given the right skills and education to make the transition back into society. This resulted in a number of repeat offenders, a trend that still exists today, but on a much smaller level.

An art and entertainment program lead to the rise of many unknown inmate talents in 1950. Their works are featured in the museum, including a number of contemporary oil paintings of sunsets and canals that portray a sense of inner peace.

Sometimes, that feeling can be contagious, as was the case with a trio from the Kingston Penitentiary. With their piano, trumpet and bass, the band struck a chord with inmates and the city of Kingston alike. Their performances were broadcasted live from the jail’s chapel and earned the group an honourable mention at the Canadian Radio Awards in only its first year.

Their recordings, along with a photo and description of the band, are on display on the museum’s second level.

Standing guard

During the summer, former prison guards volunteer at the museum and are an encyclopedia of prison knowledge. Their first-hand accounts of attempted escapes, riots and personal triumphs offer a glimpse into the prison system that the museum is unable to provide.

Prison guards are a unique type of personality. Remember, they put themselves in jail on purpose. So it’s no wonder the museum dedicates an entire room to the evolution of the correction officer. The displays range from uniforms to medals, and attract a number of current and former officers every year.

Then there’s the display of the riot uniform in the contraband section. The conventional black heavy-duty uniform, face shield, gas mask and shield outfits a mannequin standing in the room’s southeast corner. Although not used often, the emergency response arm of the correction services is among the most stressful jobs in the entire prison system. They’re the first into riots or other hostile situations and train with vigilance.

In the same room, opposite the mannequin, are a set of display cases dedicated to contrabands found throughout Canadian prisons. The weapons range from knives to guns to a crossbow fashioned out of toothbrushes and parts of salad tongs. Confiscated from a prison in Manitoba, the weapon was accurate for up to 40 feet when tested.

Everything around the museum shares a sense of being surreal. Likely because we'd rather picture ourselves in the feet of Hollywood movie stars, rather than in the shackled ankles of a criminal. But also because the museum is the closest many of us will ever get, knowingly, to some of Canada's most dangerous offenders.