#prison revolt

“Bypassing city government, inmates also sought to engage the federal government. On 10 September, James Rhem, Robert Freely, Eugene Nixon and Leo Robinson initiated a federal class action on behalf of all those held at the Tombs, alleging that the treatment of detainees as well as physical conditions deprived them of their first, sixth, eighth and fourteenth amendment rights. Prepared with the assistance of the Legal Aid Society, it charged McGrath, Lindsay, Rockefeller, the Warden of the Tombs, the State Commissioner of Correctional Services, and the Presiding Justice of the Appellate Division, First Judicial Department, with responsibility for the overcrowding, guard brutality and unnecessarily restrictive security measures. Though it was years before a verdict was reached on this class action suit, its filing went on to have a significant impact on the future of the Tombs itself.

Branch Queens Following their transfer to the Long Island Branch of the Queens House of Detention, Martinez and others who had helped to lay the foundation for the August rebellion continued to organise. This time, they sought to influence inmates throughout the whole jail, rather than just on one floor. ‘We had a local newspaper, the Inmates Forum, through which we spread propaganda, our plans, education activities, and political views’, Martinez offered. Prepared in secret, 

the paper was printed by hand by men on the different tiers. We didn’t have a mimeograph machine or typewriter. Men would print in shifts. Somebody would have the job for the morning and somebody else would do it in the afternoon. Before we knew it, we had a circulation of 150 to 200 copies. The paper was bought in the commissary. The purchasing of paper and pencils was under the ministers of finance who were assigned to every floor.

The circulation of the Inmates Forum helped its writers to reach men throughout the facility, laying the groundwork for a jail-wide protest, rather than one confined to a portion of the six-storey facility. With a capacity for 196, Branch Queens held 335 men by the end of September, all but forty-one of whom were awaiting trial or sentencing. McGrath later acknowledged that roughly two-thirds of the overcrowded jail’s population had been in the Tombs in August. Branch Queens also housed nine defendants in the controversial New York 21 trial. Initially scattered across seven jails in four boroughs, the defendants had gained injunctive relief through a federal suit against McGrath that resulted in their being housed on the 6th floor of Branch Queens. Though held apart from the rest of the population and uninvolved in the planning, several of the Panthers played leadership roles in the ensuing rebellion. At noon on 1 October, guards unlocked the cells of inmates held on the 4th floor for lunch in the dining hall. In an organised fashion, the prisoners seized the unarmed guards, took their keys, and raced to unlock all the cells in the 95-year old, six-storey jail. Taking control of the entire facility, the men captured six guards and a civilian cook, and released the nine Black Panther defendants. Though he had not been involved in the planning of the hostage-taking, Black Panther Kuwasi Balagoon was not surprised when it occurred. Rather, the rebellion was an ‘inevitable’ outcome of a broken justice system, ‘a people’s indictment of the corrupt city and state government’. Free from their cells, inmates swarmed through the prison, smashing windows and disconnecting telephones: ‘Everything that helped the jail to operate, that we did not have any use for, was put out of order.’ Just like the rebellion at the Tombs, inmates sought fresh air, in this instance, by using a wooden bench as a battering ram to knock the glass and bars out of the large 6th-floor window. Inmates hung a Puerto Rican and a red, black and green Black Liberation flag, that had been dyed beforehand on bed sheets, from the large 6th floor window. On another floor, inmates displayed a sheet that read: ‘Equal justice! Stop oppression, exploitation and persecution. Power to the people.’ The correction officers were ‘put on the right side of the bars … the pig captain shook like a bowl full of clabber, although all captives were assured that no unprovoked attacks would be made’. That first day, Balagoon offers, could rightly be called ‘turnabout day’. While many prisoners took advantage of their freedom by destroying parts of the jails, others erected barricades, put out fires on the 2nd and 3rd floors, and took up defensive positions in preparation for a police attack. Speaking at a press conference one week later, the COBA’s President recounted that the Branch Queens inmates operated ‘like a guerilla movement, with an organisation staff, lieutenants and security units’. Balagoon and others who had served in the US Army applied their military knowledge in securing the vulnerable sections of the jail:

The rest of the day was spent tightening up the defense, and the brotherhood. Everybody seemed to be flying. Messengers to carry out the word to and from every part of the building were appointed. All tiers had representatives, and guard posts and relief were set up. At least two security teams roamed the building at all times. The battle plan was mapped out.

Yet, it would be their brotherhood, more so than the barricades, which would be tested over the next few days. Following the election of a racially representative negotiation team – Martinez, a Puerto Rican, Kenneth Cender, a white inmate, Robert Drake, a Black Muslim, and three Black Panthers – they sought to build unity among the inmates. But rumours threatened to fracture any consensus and selfishness weakened this early practice of solidarity. ‘We were plagued by dishonesty the entire time of the siege’, recalls Balagoon, as a few shirked their guard duties and others took more than their share of a limited store of food. Over the next five days, the appeals to broad unity and selfless action would be undermined by similar dissension. ‘None of the men belonged in jail’: winning bail review In the Branch Queens courtyard, the negotiators made headway. During their first meeting with correction officials in late afternoon, the six-member committee demanded to meet with city officials on live television that evening. Arriving at the jail in the early afternoon, mayoral aide Barry Gottehrer complained that the sets of demands presented were ‘far more political than those from the Tombs’, speculating that participation in the last rebellion had made some inmates even more militant. From 7 to 9pm, the Branch Queens inmates held a televised press conference in the visitors’ lounge. They released two hostages – one of whom was notorious for his harassment of inmates and had tried to hang himself in his cell – as a sign of good faith and pressed a number of demands. The three Black Panthers included on the committee had wrapped towels like a Muslim kufiya to conceal their identity and demanded the restoration of bail for fellow Black Panther Afeni Shakur and more black people on their jury. The rest of the negotiators requested that a number of prominent individuals come to the jail as independent observers, a list subsequently shortened to Representative Shirley Chisholm of Brooklyn, former Bronx Borough President Herman Badillo, and Louis Farrakhan of the Nation of Islam. Afterwards, Balagoon commented that ‘among the demands was that a judge from the so-called Supreme Court come to the jail and immediately begin hearings on bail reductions. The pigs tried to bypass the issues, saying that it was impossible to submit to anything so close to justice.’ Initially, city officials derided the demand for an immediate bail review hearing as part of ‘a new and more bizarre series of demands’, but events would soon overtake them and force the government’s hand. The revolt spreads: the Tombs As inmates in Branch Queens tightened their defences so as to be able to ‘match an undetermined amount of pig power against a determined amount of black, Puerto Rican, and white power’, inmates at other jails followed their example. On 2 October at 2.45pm, 235 inmates at the Tombs revolted, following a movie viewing on the 11th floor. As a group of inmates were making their way to the elevator to return to their floor, a small group broke off, seized the guards on the elevator, and placed them in the chaplain’s office. For BPP member Ricardo de Leon, the take-over of the floor was ‘executed perfectly, like clockwork. It was the complete surprise – a classic guerilla operation’. The rest of the group took the remaining clergy and guards hostage, capturing eighteen in total. One of the largest open areas in the jail, the 11th floor contained the chapel, library, commissary and medical facilities. Like those at Branch Queens, they quickly secured their floor, barricading the gate leading to the elevator and forming a broadly representative ‘revolutionary committee’ with the participation of those inmates from the 9th floor who had been involved in the first rebellion. Similarly, Tombs inmates demanded full media coverage of negotiations as well as Lindsay’s and McGrath’s appearance at the jail to resolve immediately the grievances that had already been brought to their attention. In addition, they expressed ‘solidarity and complete support of all demands made by the brothers at Branch Queens House of Detention’. Though communication between facilities was limited by the conditions of their confinement, it was this sense of working in solidarity that connected the October inmate rebellion. As de Leon recalled in a Village Voice article a month later, what emerged was not a riot:

It was a political act of rebellion, brought about because of the oppressive and inhuman conditions prevalent in this dungeon, made in support of the rebellion of our brothers in Branch Queens House of Detention and to focus the people’s attention on the fact that Mayor Lindsay, the Department of Correction, and the New York state judiciary had refused to fulfill the promises made to us after the rebellions of August 10, 11, and 12.

At 4.30pm, inmates allowed Chaplain Gibney to take a note written by one of the correction officers to the officials on the 1st floor. The note sought ‘to certify that none of my officers have been harmed or misused in any inhuman manner. I hope that they will be released promptly.’ They emphasised that their hostages would be well treated, as long as there was no attempt to attack or forcibly retake the floor. This was tested when McGrath gambled on having a police task force storm the floor through a back stairway. That night, armed police made a move and inmates fell back to their defensive positions, handcuffing some of their hostages to the front of the stairs. They had a captain radio his superiors to explain how police actions endangered their lives and urging them to listen to inmate grievances.

Kew Gardens As the independent observers arrived to meet the Branch Queens inmates on the evening of 2 October, more than 900 men at the Queens House of Detention at Kew Gardens refused to return to their cells. Beginning at 9pm, they overpowered guards and took control of the entire facility. Though no hostages were taken, the men smashed furniture, water pipes and the building’s small glass bricks. At 4am on Saturday morning, a group of rioters tried to escape through a hole in the side of the jail’s wall, but police smoke bombs forced them to retreat. Gottehrer later observed in his memoir that by Friday night ‘the epidemic had spread’ to roughly 1,400 inmates holding twenty-three hostages in three prisons. The rebellions that broke out at the Tombs and Kew Gardens on the second day had a direct bearing on the negotiations at Branch Queens. Arriving there on the afternoon of the second day, Badillo and the other civilian observers were allowed inside to check on the condition of inmates and hostages. That evening, they worked around the clock to meet the demand of bail review. Gottehrer recalled, ‘we were being asked late on a Friday night to set a legal precedent that was logistically impossible and probably illegal’. Badillo and Haynes were more sympathetic, recalling that prisoners ‘argued that there was no reason for many of them to be confined; that unreasonably high bail had been set; and that if a judge were to come and review the situation, most of them would be released’. Though judges initially rejected the proposal, they relented only after Badillo gained Governor Rockefeller’s support for the bail review after midnight. With rebellion spreading through the city’s jails, city and state officials had been forced to make further concessions. Three judges arrived at the Queens branch for a bail review hearing at 9am. Setting up in an anteroom by the Warden’s office, they heard thirteen cases, paroling nine inmates outright, reducing bail for four others, and denying bail to another. Translating for several Puerto Rican inmates, Badillo and Haynes found that 

the proceedings were becoming embarrassing: had the judges dismissed thirteen out of thirteen cases, it would have been obvious to everyone that none of the men belonged in jail at all – that they were in jail simply because they were poor. Any decent legal advice would have won them immediate freedom. Over two-thirds of them were being held for less than $1,000 bail. Any middle class person can put up that kind of bail, but many of these men were welfare clients, and the welfare department did not authorize bail costs.

Forced upon city and state officials by inmates, the day’s bail review dramatically exposed the deep inequalities in NYC’s criminal justice system. For Balagoon, the hearing had even greater significance; for ‘a precedent was set; never before in the history of this racist empire had judges been summoned to hold court’. In response, inmates released two more hostages. Farrakhan’s Nation of Islam delivered bean pies at dinner, which, like access to the commissary on the first day, quickly became a point of contention, as men who had been carrying out guard duty took more than their share. Disunity also proved to be a problem among inmates on the eleventh floor of the Tombs. In part, the space was too small for the several hundred inmates and the closeness contributed to the confusion. From the outset, de Leon noted that ‘on the internal front, our major problem was maintaining unity and discipline; there were a number of disruptive and anarchistic elements, whose sole concern was creating confusion, looting and dropping pills’. These inmates had been able to get access to medicine in the infirmary and tried to get high. Attempts by de Leon and others to confiscate the pills provoked a resentment that would continue to fester: ‘when we started to impose some discipline over the disorder and chaos, there was mumbling and the sowing of the seeds of dissension and disunity, promoted by those individuals who were totally unconcerned with the collective and solely interested in “doing their own thing”.’ Badillo later recalled that, if all the detainees in the Branch Queens had been given a bail hearing, only a handful would have remained. Yet, this opportunity never arrived as the judges ‘completed’ the bail review after just thirteen cases and did not return. By this point, communication between the city and Branch Queens inmates had broken down. According to city officials and civilian negotiators, inmates had promised to release their hostages once some of the cases had been reviewed. ‘But in fact the agreement was if we see some signs of justice, then we would release two more’, wrote Balagoon. ‘And all our prisoners would be released after all the bail hearings were held.’ Only a handful of the cases had been reviewed, ‘a token gesture, not a sign of justice’. In contrast, Badillo and Gottehrer believed the men had been carried away with their own success, demanding a continuation of the bail review rather than releasing the remaining hostages.

Brooklyn and Rikers That same day, two more rebellions broke out. At noon on 3 October, inmates at the Brooklyn House of Detention for Men, the most crowded facility in the city’s system, seized four hostages and seven of nine floors. The jail had a capacity of 960 men, but 1,591 were confined there. As at the beginning of rebellions in other jails, men broke windows and threw out debris. As police and firefighters set up a barbed wire perimeter and unloaded firehoses to prevent a mass escape, a crowd of sympathisers began to gather. Within hours, some 3,000 were outside the police perimeter. Towards the evening, when police and correction officials began to move on the facility, around 200 threw bricks, bottles and other garbage at the police. The fifth and last rebellion began at 3pm on Rikers Island. An unspecified number of youths in the Adolescent Remand Shelter were outside their cells, watching television, when they suddenly overpowered three guards and a captain. The rebellion, however, lasted only half an hour as policemen and correction officers quickly stormed the facility, freeing the hostages and forcing the youths back into their cells. Over the first three days, the rebellions spread without any direct communication between the different facilities. Some had shared plans for the rebellions beginning on 1 October. Weeks later, one guard claimed that while he was held hostage, inmate leaders at the Brooklyn jail told him that they knew in advance of plans to take over the Tombs and Branch Queens. As Martinez explained, there were ways for inmates to communicate with each other when confined in different jails: ‘you have to go to court at some time. You can see a lot of people in different courts. If you’re taken to the Tombs bullpen you’re gonna see people there from all over.’ When brought to court in the morning, inmates would be held for most of the day in these bullpens, generally large cages in the basement of courthouses. Though notoriously crowded and unsanitary, the bullpens somehow facilitated the exchange of plots and rumours, a crossroads within the criminal justice system where messages could be passed from one jail to another. As the rebellions moved in stages from jail to jail, inmates followed radio news coverage over personal battery-operated transistor radios. In addition to television and print, radio stations covered the rebellions extensively, spreading news of the revolt. In his account of the Branch Queens rebellion, Balagoon recalled, ‘over the radio, we heard about all the other uprisings in other jails and the support we were getting from the outside’. In particular, the WBAI, New York’s Pacifica radio station, suspended regular programming, a regular practice during newsworthy crises. Beginning on 2 October, the station interviewed former prisoners in the studio and sent reporters to the different prisons to speak to inmates and officials. The following day, a station employee spent an hour calling the 11th floor of the Tombs until an inmate answered. Soon, men began calling the station themselves to explain their situation to the public. When officials at the Tombs closed their phone lines, inmates set up loudspeakers in the windows facing the street, describing their situation to the crowds below in English and Spanish.”

“Une rébellion dans la prison de Ville-Marie,” Le Soleil. January 4, 1936. Page 3 & 13. --- Des prisonniers trouvent qu’ils n’ont pas assez de sucre et de lait — Ils manifestent bruyamment, mais l’arrivée de la police provinciale les calme --- Une rébellion de la part de vingttrois détenus, sur trente, à la prison de Ville-Marie, Témiscamingue. a né­cessité, hier, l’intervention d’un dé­tachement spécial de la police provinciale. Ce détachement composé d’un sergent et de trois constables transporté en avion de Noranda à Ville-Marie, hier, alors que les détenus refusaient de se conformer aux ordes des officiers de la prison locale. Sept femmes, détenues à cette mê­me prison, se sont abstenues de participer à la rébellion. Celle-ci débuta jeudi alors que les prisonniers refusèrent d'obéir aux instructions du gouverneur de la prison, M. Jules Dumont et à ses assistants. Dirigés par trois ou quatre détenus qui ont déjà fait du pénitencier à Saint-Vincent de Paul, les prisonniers refusèrent de travailler et même de demeurer dans leurs cellules. Ils se plaignirent de la nourriture et de la discipline. 

Les prisonniers sont passé la nuit dans les corridors de la prison et hier midi ils manifestaient encore. Le gouverneur de la prison. M. Dumont, demanda alors au département du procureur general de lui envoyer de l’aide et c'est alors que quatre hommes de la police provinciale furent en voyés de Noranda.

En attendant. M Dumont et ses assistants évitèrent de pénétrer dans la partie de la prison où sont situées les cellules. On croit que cette ligne de conduite fut adoptée pour éviter de plus sérieux désordres. On apprend qu'un effort fut tenté, hier matin, pour obtenir la soumission des prisonniers. On leur demanda de retourner au travail, de nettoyer leurs cellules et les coridors. Les dé­tenus avaient réussi à se procurer du papier qu’ils déchirèrent et jetèrent dans les corridors. D'autres détenus criaient et frappaient leur tasse defer blanc sur les barreaux des cellules. Ils refusèrent de se soumettre et de réintégrer leurs cellules. Seules les sept femmes prisonnières gardèrent la paix. La plupart des détenus à la prison de Ville-Marie furent condamnés à Rouyn et purgent des sentences vaj riant de trois à douze mois d’interneent. Quelques-uns sont des récidivistes. On rapporte que jeudi soir, lorsque l'on distribua le gruau aux détenus, ceux-ci prétendirent qu'il n’y avait pas assez de lait et de sucre pour le rendre agréable au goût. C’est alors que le désorde commença. Hier après-midi, après l'arrivée du détachement de la police provinciale, les manifestants comprirent qu'ils devaient se soumettre à l’autorité et le calme fut rapidement rétabli. Les prisonniers regagnèrent leurs cellules et M. Dumont fit rapport aux autorités que l’ordre régnait à ia prison de Ville-Marie. Toutefois, malgré la déclaration de M. Dumont, voici ce que dit la dé­pêche de la “Presse Canadienne” re­çue au cours de la nuit. On croit que les 23 prisonniers en révolte de la prison de Ville-Marie n’ont pas eu de nourriture depuis 24 heures. Les prisonniers ont la mainhaute sur trois étages de la prison, mais ils n'ont pu atteindre les réserves aux provisions. Actuellement, les officiels de la prison et les agents de la Sûreté provinciale confèrent sur les mesures à prendre pour amener les révoltés à la raison. On ne sait pas si les prisonniers peuvent se procurer de la nourriture en dehors des cuisines de l’institution. les hommes n'ont pas pris possession de la cuisine et les autorités et les fonctionnaires ont admis qu'ils ne leur ont pas servi de nourriture depuis que les troubles ont commencé, tard dans la nuit de jeudi.

‘No more long court dates’: launching the first rebellion Early on the morning of Saturday, 8 August, 1970, David Felder, an inmate, got into a dispute with a correction officer. In the middle of breakfast, the two exchanged harsh words. When Felder struck the officer, other guards physically removed him from the ninth floor. Believing he was being brutalised, roughly thirty black prisoners took two white prisoners hostage and beat them, demanding Felder’s return. When their demand was met later that afternoon, the prisoners released their hostages. Here, racial solidarity dictated the trajectory of the initial rebellion as black inmates demonstrated the power they could wield when working together in opposition to a nearly all-white guard staff and a small population of white prisoners, who they claimed benefited from preferential treatment. There were no repercussions for the beatings or the hostage taking. And in the hours after Felder’s release, inmates on the 9th floor planned another rebellion, preparing a carefully hand-written list of grievances, complete with a prologue and conclusion. On 10 August, the Tombs held 1,991 though it only had capacity for 932. At 6.30am, a group of inmates took five guards hostage, locked them in two cells, and erected a barricade around the entrance to the cell area. White inmate William Hickey testified at an 18 August hearing of the State Senate Committee on Crime and Correction, that, even though black inmates had assaulted him, there was no serious racial tension two days later: ‘It was, more or less, inmates, black and white, trying to get things changed.’ During this moment of racial solidarity, someone wrote on a piece of paper: ‘We are holding a captain and four correction officers. No harm will come to them if we are not attacked. We want to see the mayor and the Press.’ The note was tucked inside the pages of a paperback book, stuffed in a sock, and dropped out to the street. Following some initial confusion, the Mayor’s counsel, Commissioner McGrath and three reporters ascended to the 9th floor to assure the inmates that there would be no reprisals if the officers were released unharmed. In return, they listened as an inmate read their list of grievances. Towards the end of their list, the inmates conceded that ‘the manner in which we chose to express our grievances is admittedly dramatic, but it is not as dramatic and shocking as the conditions under which society has forced us to live. We are indignant and so, too, should the people of society be indignant.’ A New York Times reporter promised to have the grievances published unedited in the next day’s newspaper. In three days, the unrest at the Tombs had spread in stages from several dozen black inmates to a large proportion of those held on the 9th floor. On the next day, the rebellion flared up once again, this time at 3pm, beginning with inmates on the 8th floor taking three guards hostage. ‘Several other floors joined in the rebellion and attempted to bring their plight to the people.’ Later, one man claimed that he had started the rebellion on the 5th floor after correction officers had denied commissary for the day: ‘The food is bad and the inmates look forward to pies and cupcakes and candy bars. So when they can’t have this …’ The reporter noted that the man’s voice trailed off at the end of the sentence, as if to emphasise obviousness of his point. Where the previous actions had been tightly organised, this rebellion seemed almost chaotic. Inmates set fires, smashed the building’s three-inch brick glass windows, and rained books, furniture, the bodies of dead rats and other debris onto Centre and White streets. Through a broken window, two men held a bed sheet reading ‘All we want is to be treated like human beens [sic]. There are no medications for the sick. Unhealthy cells. Unhealthy food. Three men in cell built for one.’ Signed, ‘The People’. Inmates hung another sheet with ‘Power to the People’ and a giant fist from the 4th floor window. Still another, smaller sign read simply ‘No more long court dates.’ In the midst of this seeming chaos, inmates collectively demanded that the list of demands issued the previous day by men on the 9th floor be met immediately. From the open windows of the jail, inmates sought to directly convey their grievances to the hundreds of onlookers below. From the upper floors, the men shouted that they were living four to a cell and waiting long months for trial. ‘The prisoners wrote notes to the people and tossed them out of the broken windows in order to let the people know exactly what was going on’, wrote Brenda Hyson in The Black Panther. ‘Of course the notes were quickly seized by the police.’ That evening, CBS news broadcast video of inmates chipping away at entire sections of the jail’s opaque windows, setting fire to white sheets and letting them hang out of the window. Below, columns of riot-helmeted policemen ran, ducking for cover from the falling debris, inside the front entrance of the jail. Broadcaster Walter Cronkite also mentioned that police had shot tear gas canisters into the building, only to have inmates throw them back. Just as the structure of the Tombs confined inmates to their floors, preventing them from moving to other parts of the building or escaping en masse, it also limited the ability of correction officers to retake the facility. Storming any portion of the jail required taking the elevator up to a particular floor, a slow process that would leave guards at a strategic disadvantage. Once again, McGrath negotiated with rebelling inmates, promising that an investigation of city jail conditions would be completed within three weeks. Though these negotiations secured the release of the hostages by that evening, correction officers were not able to regain control of the entire jail for the next week and a half. In the interim, inmates continued their protest by other means. Some continued to break windows and drop notes to the ground. One read, ‘Peace and Love, Everything back to normal and everything is looking up. We hope it stays this way. The Inmates.’ Men also refused to go to their court hearings. On 16 August, ninety-four prisoners in the Tombs sat down in their cells and refused to leave for trial. The next day, fifty-two Tombs inmates boycotted their hearings. Thirteen men at a Queens jail boycotted their hearings ‘in sympathy’. The Tombs rebellion continued until 20 August, when correction officers were able finally to re-enter the floor where inmates had gained control, to check locks and search for contraband. In twelve days, an inmate rebellion had grown in fits and starts, spurred forward by various acts of solidarity. It expanded in stages from the 9th floor to four floors of the Tombs, to inmates in two other jails. Yet, this solidarity had limitations. Indeed, Tombs inmates harassed those who did not go along with the boycott, allegedly beating at least four. Thirty inmates, most on only minor charges, demanded to be transferred to another jail; at least twenty-one were sent to Rikers Island. ... In the six weeks that followed the initial Tombs hostage taking, inmates continued to seek some change in the conditions of their confinement. In late August, Mayor Lindsay received a handwritten petition signed by 122 inmates from the 9th floor as well as forty-two from other floors, stating that ‘the grievances presented to a member of your party by an inmate of the ninth floor of the tombs were not in spite of the rambunctious way they were presented, the grievances of a fanatic or radical individuals, but the grievances of the entire ninth floor and institution’. Requesting a written acknowledgement of Lindsay’s support for their grievances, the petition sought to convince the Mayor that though the jail’s conditions prevented ‘100% representation here, we assure you we speak for all’. It concluded with the hope that Lindsay would move quickly to resolve the jail’s problems. There was no reply and, in the weeks that followed, the Lindsay administration took few steps to ameliorate conditions. Rather, officials prepared a series of reports investigating inmate grievances. Correction officials also arranged for the transfer of several hundred inmates to other city jails, quickly moving those identified as the leadership of the August rebellion as a security precaution. Meanwhile, city and state officials clashed publicly over who should be held responsible for the persistent overcrowding. On 11 August, Lindsay had personally appealed to Governor Nelson Rockefeller to place inmates in state correctional institutions and then criticised the governor’s decision to take only 670 inmates. Similarly, Commissioner McGrath clashed publicly with State Senator John Dunne during a hearing on the Tombs rebellions. As the days passed with few changes, some defendants complained that they could only get justice through UN intervention.” 

“The revolt, of which telegraphic and written accounts were promptly forwarded to you at the time, began in the stone cutting department, where a gang of forty convicts, under two officers, were employed, and where convicts Joseph Morriveau, Louis Vian, Edward Petere, Paul Levesque, Napoleon Martel, Joseph Brouillette and Alphonso Desjardins were at work, who with Napoleon Cadieux:, of the excavation gang, were tho ring-leaders in the shop. They  seized, disarmed and bound with cords at this point, officers Therrien, Couvrette, Melilwainei, A.. Plouffe, and teamster Leblanc, and later on the warden and steward, Mazurette. In the meantime operations had been commenced by the convicts of the tailor and shoe shop gangs, where convicts Thomas Norman, J. B. Durocher, J. E. Bussiere, Alphonse Dagenais, John Fox, Joseph Hogue, Daniel Ardilll, Alphonse Portelance and Arthur Palement were the leaders. They here seized officers Bostock, Beauparlant, Leduc and Mazurette, disarmed and bound them, as was done with those of the stone shed. While this was being enacted, the convicts of the Stone Shed sawed two beams of the building and constructed a temporary ladder, which they rushed out with, through the end door of the shop, towards the south-western side of the prison boundary, and when in rear of the blacksmith's shop, placed it against the stone wall and began ascending; but before scaling it were fired upon by the tower guards and by the farmer, Mr. Kenny, and guard Ferdinand Chartand who had some convicts working in the garden outside. Some of the convicts, with revolvers in their hands, reached the top of the wall and fired at the officers, one of the shots taking effect and wounding guard Chartrand in the leg. I happened to be at this point outside, at the time, and other officers - who had been sent by the chief keeper - appearing with rifles and firing them, the mutineers were forced to retire from the wall and abandon the ladder. The worst of the revolt would probably have been then over had not the convicts, on the way to the shops, met the Steward and warden, whom they seized, disarmed, partially tied, and placed before them as shields, and proceeded in a body to the other, the north-Western side of the prison, and made an attack on the wooden fence, with crow bars and other tools, and endeavored to break their way through, but were fired upon by the tower guards at this end, and, when the bars were piercing through the fence, by officers Lynch, Gadbois, Lemay and others, who had been posted outside by the chief keeper. The convict Morriveau, who had a crow bar in his hands, breaking the fence at the time, was shot dead. The warden and steward were struggling to free themselves, the convicts were shouting desperately and firing the revolvers, and here the most regrettable occurrence of the whole affair took place, the warden getting wounded in three places, which, with the killing of the convict, had the effect of deterring the desperadoes from any further attempt at escape in this direction. The warden was then taken by the convicts - some of whom. were friendly - and carried to the front building, and an effort made by them to carry him through; but the chief keeper, who was then at the door of the keepers' hall, but who had no means of knowing, at the time that the warden was there, fired three rifle shots, upwards, in an oblique direction through the ''peep hole" (an opening in the door) which had the effect of making the convicts scatter, and when the chief keeper learned that the warden was there wounded, he gave instructions to have him removed to the hospital, and sent for the prison physician. The officers from the outside of the prison were, shortly afterwards, ordered in and placed with loaded rifles in advantageous positions in the yard; the muster bell was sounded, the convicts marched in gangs to the dormitories, and counted, when it was found not one had escaped. A thorough search was immediately made of their persons and of the cells, but nothing of consequence found, although it was known· six of the officers' revolvers were missing. 

The conduct of the prisoners after being locked up was extremely bad, and a.regular pandemonium existed in the prison during the night. and for a couple of days afterwards, and but little in the way of controlling them, more than keeping them securely in their cells, could be done without resorting to unadvisable measures. I knew many had made themselves liable to be indicted and tried at the court for crimes committed during the mutiny, consequently I instructed the officers who had been engaged in it, and could testify against any of the convicts, to give me a statement in writing of what they had seen and done, and among others I received one from the chief keeper, which, as being the most important and helping to describe the revolt, I insert.  He writes: - " I was leaving the deputy warden's office, where I had been attending to the 'duty rosters' for the next day, and was going to my own, shortly after four o'clock, on the afternoon of the 24th April, when I first heard of the revolt by convict  --------- telling me: 'The convicts have Mclllwaine and guards of the stone shed tied up, and are going over the walls; I can't find the warden.' I asked ‘Are you sure ?' He said: 'Yes, I saw them.' I thanked him, told him to keep quiet, and ran to the warden’s office, but did not find him there.    I met guard Lesage, told him and said: 'Slip quietly around on the inside and tell the tower guards.' Told guard O'Shea, who was posted at the front door, and said; 'Lock the iron door of the chapel and let no one pass.' Told keeper Charbonneau, who was at the gates, to lock both, and let no one pass either way. I had the warden's clerk, Mr. Papineau, to attend to the ammunition and to keep with it. Sent accountant Malepart around the walls on the onside to give the alarm and to notify the tower guards of what was taking place inside. Gave messenger Lefebvre a rifle and said: 'The convicts are about breaking over the wall at No. 2 tower, take this, go through the deputy's garden, and drive them back.' Returned into the prison and ordered the convicts, whom I saw scattered about, to go into the dormitories; a number went, others would not. Sent guards Labelle, Lesage and G. Chartrand outside with rifles. I then proceeded to the tailor shop, found the door locked, looked through the ' peep hole,' saw instructor Leduc tied up on the platform, had a revolver placed towards my head that was in the hands of convict Norman, who said: 'McCarthy, clear out of there, or you will be a dead man, by God, I'll shoot you!' I said: 'No, you won't do that.' He and convict Portelance, who was with him, said: 'Yes,' and swore they would. I said: 'You are acting foolishly, you will get the worst of this.' I then went and ordered guard Carty to take his gang into the wings, which he did. I tried to get the mason gang to go also, but some of them gave mo excuses and did not go. 

I then went to the centre of the prison where the excavation gang was at work; told keeper Blaine, who was in charge, and ordered his men to go into the wings; told tho wing guards, Boyer and Catellier, and ordered them to lock tho doors on all the convicts who would go in but to let none out. Met the warden on the gallery of the wings, told him of what was taking place. He did not give me any orders, so I still continued ordering the convicts to go into the dormitories. Saw the Warden starting in the direction of the stone shed; I called after him and said: 'Don't go there, it is dangerous.' Continued trying to drive the convicts into tho wings when convict Norman approached while I was on the platform; he was dressed in civilian clothes, and was leading a party of about a dozen convicts, and stopped within thirty feet of me; he had a revolver in his hand and pointing it at me, said: 'Give up or I'll shoot you.' I said: ‘You can't do it,' and drew my revolver upon him, when he and the others dodged behind the wall jamb of the west wing, and Norman said: 'McCarthy, I don't want to kill you.' 

I again went to the armory and distributed rifles and ammunition; saw the Catholic chaplain, Mr. Godin, and asked him to telegraph to the Montreal police for assistance and to put my name to the telegram. I went outside and was told by guard Prine, who was posted on No. 6 tower, that the convicts had the warden prisoner and were coming to break through the wooden fence. I went to the place. Keeper Lynch, Gadbois, Demers, guard Lemay, farmer Kenny, teamster Clouthier and others were about. Keeper Lynch was immediately in front of where the attack was made; he said: 'Mr. McCarthy, they are breaking out here, the iron bars are piercing through.' I said: 'Don't let them; shoot the first one that puts his bead through.' I asked Pare, of No. 6 tower, if he had plenty ammunition; he said: 'Yes.' I asked: 'Why don't you fire then ?' He said he had, but was afraid of shooting the warden, and that the convicts were firing at him. I ran for a rifle and returned immediately, and was told by Pare that one of the convicts was killed; that he thought the convicts had wounded the warden; that they were leaving the place and going to the front building. 

l went to the front again, and guard O'Shea, who was posted at the door, told me that thirty or forty of the convicts were trying to break into the keepers' hall. I said: 'They shall not do that; let me in and lock the door after me. 'I went to the inner door and fired my rifle three times upwards, in an oblique direction, through the opening or ' peep hole' in the door. The convicts scattered immediately and I learned the warden was there wounded. I refused to open the door, and told Mr. Manning, the hospital overseer, to have the warden carried to the hospital, to attend to him and that I would send for the doctor, which I did. I went outside again and met the deputy warden, who had been ill for some days. I spoke to him about the matter and said: ' The convicts are driven from every point; I think we have them all safe now.' He suggested bringing in some officers and going into the yard. I went to the keepers' hall, looked through the windows and saw no signs of disturbance. I came out again and spoke to the officers at the fence and on the tower, who told me the convicts had dispersed; that all seemed pretty still in the yard. I then ordered. the officers to come in with their rifles, the deputy warden find myself leading them. I took some of them up to the hospital with me. I saw the warden there wounded, convict Corriveau dead and Munday slightly wounded. I sent the convicts who were not needed there to their cells. We then went in the yard, placed the guards about, had the muster bell sounded and marched the convicts - who by this time were pretty well in their places - to their cells, and found when they were counted that not one had escaped." - "THOS. MoCARTHY."

As to the escape of Viau, which followed so closely on tho above revolt you were on an official visit at the time, and had an opportunity of seeing the energy displayed by the officers in his recapture - which took place the day after - and also to thoroughly inquire into the particulars of the escape. 

The conduct of most of the officers during the trying ordeal of the revolt was praiseworthy in the extreme; they did their duty manfully, and by intelligent and courageous management succeeded in keeping within the prison enclosure so many desperately inclined convicts, some of whom, as already stated, were possessed of firearms, and did not hesitate to use them, in their most determined attempt to escape; and, while on this subject, I do not think it invidious to make special mention of tho case of guard Ferdinand Chartrand, who is still confined to bed from the wound he received, and should be, as tho result, be maimed for life, it would be but fair, when his case is being dealt with, that his faithfulness and bravely on the occasion be considered, particularly as he did not rush into danger, but met it; when, I repeat, he did his duty bravely, even firing from his knees after being wounded.

Some convicts also rendered good service, notably, the one who gave the chief keeper such timely intimation, and whose name, for obvious reasons, I do not mention here. A report of the services rendered by this convict, and others, was duly forwarded to you, as was also one relating to recalcitrant officers. 

An inquest was held on tho body of the convict Joseph Corriveau, killed during the revolt, to ascertain how the deceased met his death, and, by the verdict, no blame whatever was attached by tho coroner or jury to any of the officers.

...

Owing to the difficulty of obtaining sufficient evidence against the convicts engaged in the revolt, but sixteen were indicted and tried at the June term of the Court of Queen's Bench, Montreal, Of these four were acquitted, four were sentenced to serve an additional year, two to two years, five to three years, and one to twenty five. years-the last concurrent with former sentence - all to lose any remission of sentence they may have earned to date of trial; and one, a life convict, escaped punishment by the court., as it was thought useless to indict him. However, he is at present undergoing the punishment of wearing a ball and chain, and shall be obliged to for some time to come. Before leaving this subject, permit me to express a hope that when the new rules and regulations for the government of penitentiaries are issued, it will be found that more cases, such as escapes, attempts to escape, and minor assaults upon officers, are added to the list of "prison offences," so that in ordinary cases they could be dealt with here; as having frequent excursions of the convicts from the penitentiary and their exhibition in tho courts, has in my opinion, a demoralizing effect on the convicts, the officers and the public in general.

Of the six revolvers taken from the officers, five were found the week after the revolt in different places in the yard and shops where they had been thrown away or hidden by the convicts, and the last was recovered on tho 28th ult., three days ago, most cunningly concealed upon the person of a convict who was not engaged in the mutiny, and now as they are in our possession again the fact it is very reassuring to the officers in general, and I am able to state that some of the cartridges were found to have been discharged by the convicts from all the revolvers except the warden's. 

...

In regard to the discipline, it has greatly improved since the revolt. I have been essaying to change it, gradually, for the better, and I think I have been, to a great extent, successful, without having to resort to the extreme measure of applying the "lash," or of engendering the intense hatred of the convicts against the administration, of the officers or myself; and in so doing, I simply gave the convicts and officers to understand that the prison rules were tor their guidance as well as mine; that I would obey my part; and - to all those capable of understanding them, and few are not - that I would insist on their obedience also; this has be on done successfully up to a marked degree, and with a staff of reliable officers, properly sustained, I do not hesitate to say this state of the discipline cannot only be continued but materially improved. No false idea of kindness shall obstruct my administration; the rules and regulations and your instructions have already established, in a most humane manner, all necessary kindness, and every advantage consistent with their most liberal interpretation shall be allowed these unfortunate men whom I must, as it is my duty, control; but outside of this, I consider I would fail in the proper discharge of my functions were I not to insist upon good order and discipline being maintained, even at the risk of being called severe, which I may be, although encouraging the well inclined, and endeavoring to chastise and subdue the refractory by the most humane means within my restricted power.” - Telesphore Ouimet, Acting Warden, to J. G. Moylan, Esq., Inspector of Penitentiaries, Ottawa. Report No.1, St. Vincdent de Paul Penitentiary,  June 30, 1886, in Report of the Minister of Justice as to Penitentiaries in Canada, for the Year Ended 30th June, 1886. Ottawa: Queen’s Printer, 1887.