Baltimore Evening Sun (9 September 1912): 6.

All that remains is for Mr. Howe to offer moving pictures of the gallant doctor’s arrival at Bar Harbor, with the common people on the pier heaving their chapeaux in air and the triumphant locomotive blowing off steam.

The Unspeakable Weyler in defense of his daily lambasting of penitents:

Yes; I don’t hesitate to admit that prisoners are cuffed up. Punishment has to be administered upon unruly ones.

Could anything bear More eloquent testimony to the the ihunkerousness, the intransigeance of this man? Is he, then, utterly ignorant of Modern Methods? Does he know nothing of Penalogy, that twin sugar-teat to Pedagogy? Can it be that he is so all-fired archaic that he has never heard of melting recalcitrant burglars with honeyed words, of softening murderers with deeds of kindness, of appealing to the reason of professional burglars and to the innate nobility of gentlemen imprisoned for rape?

Away with the fellow! Heave him into Jones Falls! Give his job to some gentler, lovelier, more optimistic spirit. Give it, specifically, to one who knows, by a diligent study of Sunday-school tracts, that niggero ruffians are pitiable Unfortunates, that porch-climbers have a hot thirst for Higher Things, that the way to deal with a pickpocket is to put trust in his Manliness. Such is Penalogy, and its father was Gilbert:

When the felon’s not engaged in his employment
Or maturing his felonious little plans,
His capacity for innocent enjoyment
Is just as great as any other man’s.

And not only for enjoyment, but also for ratiocination, for spiritual soaring, for order, for virtue. Does he refuse to work, throw a hatchet the length of the shoe shop, and attack the guards with a crowbar? Deal gently with him! Appeal to his Better Instincts! Argue with him! Charm him! Out with the bastinado and in with the string quartet! Show him that you love him and trust him, even while he is scattering your brains with a sledge hammer!

How far, in all conscience, is this sentimentalizing of criminals to go? Is the penitentiary a place of punishment or a free hotel? Is the warden the boss of his charges or their humble servant? Are the convicts all moral climbers, eager to scale the uttermost Alps of virtue, consumed by a rage for holy living--or is it a fact that many of them are incorrigible rascals, incurable scoundrels, cutthroats, thieves, bad eggs? If they are all so orderly, if the worst of them stand in no need of harsh and constant punishment, why not turn them out and have done?

True enough, there are men in the penitentiary who are there by accident--weak fellows who have yielded to passion or temptation, unfortunates who deserve all sympathy. But is there any evidence that such man have been cuffed up, or flogged, or put into dark cells? I think not. They obey the rules, earn their commutation for good behavior, and go out into the world to begin life anew. But the professional criminals, the intolerable bullies remain. What is to be done with them? Are they to be permitted to run amuck, and so demoralize the whole institution, and work hardship upon the sincerely penitent men--or are they to be treated like the jackals that they are, and so forced into obedience and order?

Don’t forget that the very worst men in the community are locked up in the penitentiary-- men so thoroughly vicious that it would endanger the lives of all of us to let them go at large. It is the duty of the warden to bring such fellows into some sort of temporary decency, to, keep them from injuring others, to hold them in order, at least so long as they are in his charge. He can’t turn them out if they rebel--he must break down their rebellion. How is he to do it? By reasoning with them? By taking away from them the privilege of going to chapel? By standing them in a corner? Naturally not. He must proceed against them physically, starving and clubbing them into submission. An unpleasant business, but necessary. Unless he breaks them, they will break him. Without absolute discipline, a penitentiary would be a shambles.

In conclusion, let me quote from a letter I received this morning. It is from a man who says that he served 10 years and 2 months in the Maryland Penitentiary for attempted murder, a crime of sudden passion, for which he now professes himself penitent. Says he:

Let me assure you at the outset that the present inquisition, if it is an impartial one, will find nothing radically wrong. It is to be hoped that the gentlemen of the committee will bear in mind that the place was provided as a place of detention for persons deserving punishment. It is not a pleasure resort, although the meals there furnished are of much better quality than what you get at some rest places. * * *

After a fair though brief trial I entered upon my sentence. For sanitary reasons, I suppose, my head was at once shaved. I was given a bath, which I did not consider to be a punishment. I was given my allotment of highly decorative clothing and assigned a task. My work was hard. There is no doubt about that. But it was labor, such as thousands of men--and women, too-- perform daily in the great outside.

Upon my entry into the place the rules were called to my attention. Strict they were, but not unreasonable. Their observonce, I was assured, would secure to me proper treatment; their infraction would result in necessary punishment. I obeyed the rules. I worked all day (the same as the other inmates); was fed three times daily; and rested each night. Aside from the ennui of remaining constantly in the one atmosphere, was not that about the same life as is lead by the average person? The confinement alone was irksome to me.

To be sure, we never were fed upon fillet au bass nor did lobster salad ever weigh down our lengthy tables. But we did get coffee regularly; we ate meat, and good meat. Our bread was as good--and much cleaner--than is served in most hotels; our vegetables were washed in water the same as was used outdoors. * * *

It is true that some prisoners were punished. But do you deny that school children who are unruly doserve some form of punishment; does the employer let pass unnoticed the disobedience of his employe? A difference merely in form, not in morals. Discipline must be maintained within a regiment and upon a man-of-war. And that discipline is to be enforced in the penitentiary by perhaps 50 men as against 1,000 (more than 1,000 in our case). You can easily imagine what would happen in any community if one of hundreds was allowed to defy the authority of a few officials. How dreadful would be the moral effect upon the hundreds, how utterly uncontrollable would become the mob!

So why the hubbub about the penitentiary? I’ve told you the facts. And I am sure the result of the investigation–provided always that it be a fair investigation--will bear me out.

Beware of theatre ushers, elevator boys, firemen, street-car spotters and so-called newspaper reporters! Burns is each and all!

Don’t talk to Single Taxers! Burns has even been a Socialist!

The more them stuffers think it over the more they wish they had handed it to Bill Broening even more harder.