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Sunday, August 21, 2011

THE MODEL PRISON OF THE WORLD” THE ALBANY COUNTY PENITENTIARY AND 19th CENTURY PRISON REFORM

Copyright ©2011. All rights reserved by the author


“It had been customary to punish these delinquents by simple incarceration in the county jail, where, in utter idleness, corrupted and corrupting each other by indiscriminate intercourse, they remained until the expiration of their sentences, and in most cases, when discharged it was only to return thither in a few days, or weeks at most, to go through the same routine,” an observer wrote of the conditions at the Albany county jail during the early 1840s. As most local jails, the Albany facility was characterized by the unregulated association of prisoners regardless of their offense. This congregation of offenders, “so far from having any terrors or constituting any punishment, had an opposite effect,” an early chronicler added. “The jail became a fruitful source of demoralization and vice,” while the expense of its maintenance, coupled with the attendant expenses of trials courts and juries, was annually increasing at an alarming rate.1




During the mid-1840s Albany faced a rapidly growing incidence of crime and local political leaders, most from the emerging commercial elite, looked with horror at the mounting costs of incarceration. They recognized that the Albany jail was in desperate need of change and fiscal overhaul. These were years when the prison reform movement gained momentum, launched by the changes introduced in Auburn and Philadelphia, and civic leaders from Albany looked to them for direction. At the Auburn state penitentiary prisoners were held in solitary confinement at night but permitted to work in groups during the day. Silence among them was rigorously enforced at all times. The Philadelphia prison adopted absolute solitary confinement with no communication among the prisoners permitted at any time, even during meals and work.2 Most state penitentiaries adopted either model or a version of both, as the authorities used limited or no contact among the prisoners as a means of improving conditions and ensuring greater control over the inmates. These systems also gained widespread attention and were discussed in the professional journals in the United States and abroad.3 At Auburn and Philadelphia “the principle of isolation with labor lies at the foundation of both,” an observer noted in April 1869.4

While most of America's larger prisons had adopted the Auburn or Pennsylvania model by the 1840s, conditions on the local level remained harsh and brutal. Jails continued to be operated on outdated and ill-founded principles. Typically, large numbers of offenders were held together with little or no distinction made on the basis of the severity of the crime or length of
sentence. A few jails attempted to ameliorate the conditions by adopting some elements of the Auburn or Pennsylvania systems. A leader in the reform of local penal institutions was the Albany County Penitentiary. Opened in 1848 under the direction of Amos Pilsbury, an influential prison reformer, this prison soon became a model of reform for other urban areas, largely because it was one of the few prisons of the day that paid its own way. Already in 1851 advocates called it “Model Prison.” Several individuals who later became prominence in the prison reform movement, including Zebulon Brockway, gained experience here.5

Reformers in the New York capital deliberately adopted the discipline of the factory to its local jail, the Albany County Penitentiary, thereby using the model of social control and reform they knew best. The significance of this institution for prison reform lasted only several decades and its experience during these years reveals the overriding interests and concerns of local officials. Observers came to Albany from across the United States and even Europe to study what one advocate called "the model prison in the world." The facility remained in use until it was closed in 1931 long after the first calls to shut its doors were made.6

During the past several decades scholars have investigated and debated anew the nature of the penitentiary, identifying it as a unique nineteenth-century American creation. This approach has brought into sharper focus the purpose of incarceration in a society undergoing widespread economic change and the social and political restructuring that accompanied it. In post-Jacksonian America, the economic prosperity brought more sharply into view the growing working class. Situated on the lower rungs of society, workers lived not far from the criminal subculture and in times of unemployment or economic hardship some slid into its ranks. These developments affected the new urban centers, alarming civic leaders, most who had come from the commercial elite. New York’s capital, the city of Albany, took steps to confront this mounting social crisis that threatened the values of its middle class leaders who were busily asserting their political and social authority during these years. The birth of the penitentiary and its spread also reveal much about 19th century America. Can these insights be applied to the local level, to community based prisons, to a specific urban center undergoing fundamental economic change and witnessing the emergence of a commercial elite and its rise to political prominence?

The experiences of the Albany County Penitentiary show how one urban center, faced with a growing and expensive crime problem, brought in a prominent reformer to effect change. An examination of the Albany County Penitentiary also reveals how the new political and commercial elite viewed society and how civic leaders strived to impose the ideology of discipline on the lower elements in the community.

During the 1830s and 1840s, the crime rate in Albany County rose sharply as the economy slowed following the boom brought on by the construction of the Erie Canal and later the Mohawk and Hudson Railroad. The bulk of the arrests were for minor non-violent transgressions, particularly drunkenness and vagrancy. “Most were simply held in the local jail with a range of other offenders, because no adequate provision had previously existed" for the “confinement, employment and reformation of vagrants and petty criminals,” an observer noted.7

The poor conditions in Albany’s jail and in particular the mounting expense to the county for sheltering these prisoners raised concern within the community and prompted the Board of Supervisors on May 1, 1843, to appoint a committee to “investigate all matter relating to expenses of this county.”8 The Board of Supervisors focused on the costs to the city of holding minor criminals, on their “employment” and “reformation,” that is with cutting expenses. “The cost of its maintenance coupled with the attendant expenses of trials courts and juries, was annually increasing at an alarming rate.”9

In the early 1840s as a number of communities faced these issues. Reformers and civic leaders throughout the nation called for action, but Albany was one of the few cities to confront the situation directly, to allocate the needed resources, as it attempted to impose the discipline of the factory through the prison regime.10 Amid the discussions came calls for change, such as greater scrutiny of the prisoners and of foremost importance the search for a less costly method of imprisonment. The resolution passed by the Albany County board of supervisors on May 1, 1843, called for the identification of a cheaper and more efficient means of dealing with the crime problem.11 According to the resolution, the committee of five local citizens had the authority to make a complete and detailed examination of all matters relating to the expenses of the county, in order to ascertain if any reduction or reform can be devised consistent with the due administration of justice, the protection of property and the just compensation of its executive officers; to the end that such measures may be adopted as this board may deem necessary for a more economical expenditure of the public money.12

In passing this resolution, the Albany board of supervisors was guided not so much by humanitarian concerns as the escalating costs of handling minor offenders. The cost of housing criminals had soared in recent years and the burden of providing financial support fell heavily on the emerging business elite of the city. Political leaders were responsive to these concerns. Although the county's population had not doubled in the past 28 years, the number of those sent to the county jail had increased four fold in half that time.13 The rising costs of incarcerating these individuals jumped from $9,000 to more than $28,000 per year. A report submitted to the board of supervisors on December 14, 1843, after an “intricate and laborious investigation... attributed nearly all the existing evils to the growth of petty crime, vagrancy and pauperism.”14

The citizens’ committee deliberated on the emerging social crisis and the accompanying fiscal burdens for the county. On February 7, 1844, it presented a final report to the board of supervisors and recommended that application be made immediately to the state legislature for a law permitting Albany County to begin construction of a penitentiary “in which vagrants and convicts might be confined at hard labor, of a suitable nature, and sufficient for its own support.” The emphasis was on engaging in the prisoners in work that would generate funds to defray the cost of their incarceration. Members of the Albany Common Council accepted the report and voted to proceed according to its recommendations.15

Albany’s new penitentiary was to be constructed by the prisoners themselves, thereby saving the county considerable expense and at the same time serving one of the expressed functions of incarceration--instilling a work ethic and discipline in the prisoners. In addition to its call for legislation authorizing the construction of a penitentiary, the report to the board of supervisors contained the principles and recommendations that were to guide the facility’s operations, and which revealed their overriding concerns and intentions. These included:

First, That while the punishment inflicted shall be adequate to the offense committed, it shall also be such as will tend to effect the moral reformation of the convict.

Second, That the labor performed in the prison shall produce a sufficient income for its maintenance.

Third, That the occupation of the prisoners shall be of such a nature as not to interfere with the lawful avocation of any citizen, and such as can give to the mechanics and citizens of our community not just cause of complaint whatever.

Fourth, That such moral and religious instruction be provided as will be a powerful auxiliary in producing amendment and reformation.16

The Albany County Penitentiary was intended from the outset to meet not simply local fiscal needs and concerns; it was also to be a vehicle of moral improvement through hard labor for minor criminals, vagrants, paupers, and drunkards. The assumption was that these individuals needed the hard work and discipline, coupled with religious training, to set them on the track to becoming productive members of society. These efforts were not, however, to compete with businesses and the free labor in the community.17 The penitentiary, as planned, would be a marked improvement over the county jail which had operated at considerable expense and where the conditions were generally miserable and inmates spent most of the day in idleness, corrupting each other.

With strong local support, the bill to grant Albany County authority to construct a penitentiary was submitted to the New York State Legislature and on April 13, 1844, it passed “An Act for the Construction of a Penitentiary, and its relation to the relief of the Poor in the county of Albany.”18 The law granted the county board of supervisors the authority to construct a penitentiary “for the safe keeping and employment of vagrants, disorderly persons, and all prisoners (except in cases of convictions for felony) who shall be sentenced to confinement at hard labor, or to solitary imprisonment, by any court held in said county, or in the city of Albany.”19 The new facility would house minor non-violent offenders, those identified ascapable of being reformed, that is capable of learning factory-like discipline in the structured routine of the penitentiary.20

Having gained permission from the state Legislature, the county moved quickly. Penitentiary commissioners were appointed to implement the new legislation and they received the full support and endorsement of the county commissioners. Political influence played no role in the operation of the new penitentiary, an issue of great importance to the institution’s Superintendents or wardens and a factor often identified as a key to its early success.21 The newly appointed commissioners went about their work with diligence. They visited several prisons, studied their records, and examined different systems of prison discipline, particularly the Auburn and Pennsylvania systems.22

After visiting and studying a number of institutions, the commissioners reported that they “have taken this important part of the subject into deep consideration, and have arrived at what they consider to be the right conclusion.”23 In their report, the commissioners described the philosophical basis of the proposed penitentiary, revealing their cognizance of the prevailing ideals of mid-19th century America. They wrote that:

Every human being, no matter how depraved, has natural as well as civil rights. Whenever the rules on which the existence of the social compact depends are violated, society is justifiable in ejecting the transgressor from its privileges, until such time as penitence and reformation may reasonably be expected to ensue, or as the nature and proper punishment of the offense may require.

Albany’s civic leaders emphasized the “penitence and reformation” of prisoners through hard work, isolation, and religious education. Imprisonment, based on these principles, remained well within the natural and civil rights of the individual, local boosters argued. The regulations adopted in 1848 emphasized that “the object of this Institution” was “to effect the moral
reformation of the culprit.” The Inspectors of the penitentiary wrote in the First Annual Report that “the expectations of its founders” called for “a self-supporting institution and reformatory in morals.”24

The search for a superintendent began shortly after the legislature approved construction of the new institution. The commissioners in charge of the new penitentiary “resolved to adopt the best model and to have it erected under the best superintendence.” They approached Amos Pilsbury, the warden of the Wethersfield State Prison in Connecticut,25 and a well known prison reformer and effective administrator whose institutions annually turned a profit. He was, an observer wrote in 1849, “the first warden of a prison who caused the prisoners to earn more than their own support; and to his honor be it said, he was the first prison keeper who introduced the practice of reading the Bible daily to the prisoners assembled,”26 matters important to the Albany County supervisors and, no doubt, central to their choice of Pilsbury to organize and direct the operations of the penitentiary.

Pilsbury came from a family long involved with prisons, and at Wethersfield he had succeeded his father, Moses Pilsbury, who had previously served as warden of the New Hampshire State Prison. When Moses Pilsbury took over the Wethersfield prison in 1830 it was characterized by "irregularity, idleness, and waste." Under his direction these conditions were soon "replaced by discipline, industry and thrift until the prison, with its orderly and busy inmates, became the wonder and boast of the state; presenting, it is believed, the first instance recorded in penal annals, of convicts who supported themselves." Furthermore, when the expenses of the prison had been paid, there remained “a handsome surplus for the state treasury." Pilsbury embodied the new prison reformer. Motivated, in part, by a concern for the well being of the prisoners, he established humane living conditions. Pilsbury also turned the facility into a self-sustaining correctional factory.27

Amos Pilsbury began his work in prisons at the New Hampshire facility, under the tutelage of his father, and in 1827 they both went to the Wethersfield State Prison. The conditions they found were grim. Prisoners marched off to work in chains by day and were locked-up in the corridors of an abandoned copper mine by night. Operations cost approximately $25,000 more than its receipts. Serving first as Deputy Warden and after 1830 as warden, Amos Pilsbury improved conditions and within two years had the prison operating at a profit. Wethersfield became a model for reform advocated by Louis Dwight and his Prison Discipline Society, and Pilsbury's efforts led first to the reform of county jails.28

At the Wethersfield State Prison Pilsbury developed a program of prison discipline which had inmates spend the day at “some simple but profitable occupation” during which they were forbidden to speak with one another. They were held in solitary confinement at night. Pilsbury refined the Auburn system of prison discipline, the silent system, where “no word, or look, or sign, was allowed to pass between the convicts,” where talking was a severe breach of discipline. The benefits were numerous, the chaplain of the Albany County Penitentiary later wrote. “The unhappy inmates were not hardened in crime by intercourse with beings perhaps worse than themselves" as the prisoners were segregated from society and from the corrupting influences of each other. Limited contact also assured that “neither were they driven to despair or to madness, by the unmitigated horrors of perpetual solitude.” Added to these restrictions was religious training which demonstrated that “the lawless beings known before only as destructive, could by right management, be brought into the ranks of the self-supporting and even of the producing.”29 Pilsbury brought this system of prison discipline to Albany when he accepted the position of superintendent of the yet-to-be constructed penitentiary. He arrived in Albany on July 1, 1845, and immediately began directing the construction of the facility.30 The site purchased for the penitentiary was near the junction of Lydius Street and the Delaware Turnpike, an 11 acre plot of land a half mile west of the capitol building. Prisoners completed the bulk of the construction because it was policy “to erect the buildings, grade the land, and do every kind of work in and about the Penitentiary, as far as it was good economy to do so, by the labor of the convicts themselves,” the Inspectors of the penitentiary wrote in the First Annual Report. “By employing the convicts in and about the work, the County was receiving something for the services of those who were supported, and who would otherwise have been maintained in idleness, in the jail or almshouse.”31

Escorted by armed guards, the prisoners marched daily from the old jail to the construction site which required a considerable amount of leveling before the building of the facility could begin. Even at this early stage, cost control was important. The Inspectors concluded that the unevenness of the land had enabled the city to purchase it cheaply, and the prisoners' labor “improved the whole aspect of the ground,” doubling its value. The employment of prisoners to complete the penitentiary did result in considerable savings. Inspectors calculated that “it will require but a few years at most, to reimburse the county for its outlay for the Penitentiary land and buildings.”32

The design of the Albany County Penitentiary embodied the most current trends. The prison looked like a small efficient factory and “the stranger might pass, and repass this structure without a true suspicion of its real character being entertained for a moment,” wrote an enthusiastic booster.33 The dominant architectural feature and central structure was a three story building, 50 feet long and 75 deep, in the middle of the complex. Attached to it were two wings, each 100 feet long and 50 wide, that culminated in octagonal towers. Prisoners built the south wing first and by April 17, 1846, it was ready to house male prisoners in its 96 cells. The individual cells, about seven square feet of space, were furnished with an iron bed stead and a few other items.34

During 1846 and continuing through June 1847, prisoners worked to complete the facility. The north wing had 40 cells (and eight more in the tower) reserved for women prisoners and it became available in June 1847. This wing also housed the workshops where the women inmates performed menial tasks, gaining the perceived moral benefits of hard, disciplined work, and also contributing to the cost of their incarceration. The completed penitentiary held 154 cells. The three-story center building contained the residence of the Superintendent, his family, and other staff members. At the rear of the first story were the guard chamber and matron's room. The second level had separate hospitals for the male and female prisoners. Located in the third story was the chapel. Cooking was done in the basement.35

Care in the design was given to making the cell blocks more healthful than the old jail. The halls were “well ventilated, spacious, light and airy,” and the cell doors, made of round iron bars, “when closed admit nearly as much air and light as when open,” officials noted proudly. Ventilation, through the long, straight corridors and the cells doors, was an important health issue and often referred to in the descriptions of the penitentiary. In addition, heat ducts went to each floor and the workshops, thereby providing some degree of comfort in the winter. “The whole establishment is warmed by hot air furnaces, and furnished with a copious supply of good water; and hot and cold water are distributed wherever necessary,” wrote an observer.36 “A most healthful feature of this prison abounds in the large and convenient bath room situate in the north-western portion of the building where its inmates are allowed and most gladly embrace the privillege [sic] of a bath each week.” Each prisoner had a bucket in the cell that served as a toilet.37

A brick wall 14 feet high surrounded the prison yard, 105 feet at the front and 200 feet on the sides, thereby fully isolating the inmate from society. The castellated entry and formidable wall were painted and contained attractive architectural details, such as a rusticated course running the entire length of the wall just below the parapet. Also built into the wall were guard towers and a walkway. The penitentiary was an attractive structure, a prominent statement of civic authority and values. It also served as a warning to the unruly elements of the community.38

Construction of the penitentiary took three years with prisoners “employed in every branch of labor and mechanic art,” the Inspectors wrote with pride in their first annual report. The use of prisoner labor meant that costs would be low and this work kept productive “a class who would otherwise live in idleness at the public cost,” a matter of fundamental concern to Albany’s political and community leaders. The county's expenses for the construction of the penitentiary amounted to more than $38,000 and this was to be paid off in eight annual installments. By 1848, three payments had already been made without increasing the burden to county taxes. The savings made in the handling of convicted criminals were already sufficient to defray the payments “and it is believed that this effect will continue until the whole is paid.” The commissioners turned over the completed penitentiary and its 133 prisoners to city authorities on November 1, 1848.39

Shortly after opening, the penitentiary the county adopted a new set of regulations for its administration and operation. Superintendent Pilsbury held “the entire control and management of all its concerns” and resided at the facility. Pilsbury was also responsible for maintaining both the fiscal and personnel records of the penitentiary. Along with supervising discipline and maintaining the records of the prison businesses, he was to check each cell daily. In practice, the Superintendent patrolled the grounds regularly and he instructed the incoming prisoners on the regulations and expectations.40

Pilsbury's staff included a Deputy Keeper who served as his principal assistant, four assistants, two guards, a matron and her assistant, a part-time chaplain, and a physician.41 Tight security was maintained from the time the inmates arrived at the penitentiary and marched silently past armed guards to the Superintendent. Pilsbury ordered guards to remain “vigilant and active in the performance of all duties and services for the safety and security of the prisoners and Penitentiary.” Guards received explicit instructions that they were not to discuss any matter among themselves while in the presence of prisoners and they were “not to hold any conversation with a prisoner, except to direct him to his labor and duty.” A major task was to ensure that the prisoners did not communicate among themselves. Pilsbury directed guards to patrol the halls in socks while the inmates were in their cells in order “to detect any unnecessary noise,” any attempts to communicate with other prisoners.42

Religious services and training were central elements of the routine at the Albany County Penitentiary, integral to the objective of reforming the prisoners. According to an early directive, “such moral and religious instruction should be provided as would be a powerful auxiliary in producing amendment and reformation.” Prisoners attended services held each Sunday in the chapel. Already in April 1846, well before construction of the chapel was completed and a chaplain hired, Pilsbury invited a local clergyman to come on Sundays to conduct worship services. The chapel at the Penitentiary, dedicated in January 1848, was constructed so that both male and female inmates could be present for the same service but separated and unable to see one another.43

The weekly religious services were important. For the prisoner, they offered a rare opportunity to be together in close quarters with other inmates and to hear the voice of another human being. Early accounts of the Penitentiary asserted that most prisoners went to the services voluntarily and that they gained from the religious training.44 For the administrators of the penitentiary, the religious program held a central place in the rehabilitation of the inmate, largely by providing moral guidance. The most readily available, and often the only, reading material for the prisoners Bibles and hymnals. The chaplain visited prisoners in their cells, if so requested, and with the Superintendent organized a night school “which has proven successful even beyond their most sanguine expectations.” Pilsbury directed that chaplains were to aid the inmates “as he may deem best calculated to promote their reformation.” While attending to the individual prisoner, the chaplain adapted “ his instructions and reproofs directly to the individual cases and circumstances.” In addition, the chaplain was “to administer to all such advice, instruction, and consolation as he may deem best calculated to promote their reformation; and at all proper times he shall endeavor to impress upon their minds the justice of their punishment, and the necessity of a strict compliance, on their part, with the rules of the establishment.”45

The success of these efforts was widely applauded. In 1856 the editors of Prisoner’s Friend, a journal “devoted to criminal reform,” published a letter from a former inmate which they maintained “gives the most gratifying results of the principles of honesty, integrity, and sobriety inculcated in his mind while there, and furnishes that equivalent for which, and onlywhich, the philanthropist lagers for, – a lasting and effective reformation.”46 A decade later the chaplain echoed these sentiments, writing “it gives me pleasure to say that they have afforded gratifying evidence of reformation, and in some instances of devotion to Jesus.” He quoted from a number of letters received from former prisoners, all attesting to the reforming value of religion. As the number of prisoners grew, the chapel was enlarged and the new structure was dedicated on April 21, 1867, thereby attesting to the on-going importance placed on religious services.47

At the Albany County Penitentiary, the silent system of prison discipline was strictly enforced. Already upon arrival, inmates were instructed that they could not “speak to or hold any conversation with each other, or to leave their work without permission.” In addition, they were not allowed “to speak to or gaze at visitors,” and they were to be "constantly employed...diligently, in order and in silence.” The emphasis was on controlling and punishing the inmates through the restriction of normal contact with other individuals. Pilsbury directed that “they must conduct themselves with perfect order, and in strict compliance with the directions of their officers.” He emphasized that “Silence, order and regularity must reign,” the values of the commercial elite that governed Albany. Prisoners were expected to be “industrious, submissive, obedient, and labor diligently in silence.” One former prisoner wrote that even while serving in the army he had “never seen discipline so perfect.”48

Prisoner dress and the daily routine reinforced institutional control and the inmate’s submissiveness. Upon arrival prisoners gave up their clothing for “prison dress,” a jacket, vest, pants, and cap “made of coarse cloth,” plus woolen socks and shoes. Female inmates wore “a checked linsey frock and skirt, cotton check apron and neckerchief, shoes and stockings and the usual under clothes.”49 The daily regimen was strict. The day began at daylight when the ringing of a small bell signaled “the male prisoners to rise, dress, put up their bedstead, bed and bedding.” Officers took posts along the walls as guards unlocked the cell doors. Prisoners emerged and marched “lock-step to their respective shops, and other places of labor.” At the work shops they had an opportunity to wash before breakfast, but they had to start work immediately upon arrival.50 The daily routine revolved around work and discipline. Transgressions against the work regime were punished at the supervisor’s discretion with “the only punishment...inflicted in the prison–confinement in the ‘solitary cell’.” More extreme and severe punishments were in fact used. As the New York Daily Times reported in November 1854, a prisoner who had committed “some offence against the discipline of the Penitentiary” was taken from the workshop for “the purpose of ‘showering’ him. He was told to strip, and as usual was placed in a box where water was let in upon him.”51

According to the rules and regulations prepared by Amos Pilsbury in 1848, a second bell was rung at 7AM for breakfast. Prisoners stopped work, lined up, marched to the prison yard and the kitchen. As officers yelled out military commands they picked up plates, loaded food, and then marched back to their cells to eat. The prisoners were counted once more and when the number was found correct the guards had their meal. Prisoners received “from half to three quarters of an hour” for breakfast and then marched back to the work shops remained there until noontime. The same procedure was repeated for lunch. Women prisoners prepared the meals under the direction of the matron. The prisoners had an hour for dinner, beginning promptly at 6PM, and were counted before 7:30PM when “each prisoner will retire to his bed.”52

The labor performed by prisoners in the workshops at the penitentiary--canning chairs and making shoes and brooms--earned funds for the prison and that made the Albany County Penitentiary a “model prison of the world,” as least in the eyes of local authorities and boosters of this system of prison discipline. As stated forcefully in the initial call for a new penitentiary, the institution had to reduce public expenses and pay its own way. In addition, prisoner labor had another function, and the experience at Albany, as the Inspectors wrote in the Second Annual Report in 1849, quickly “taught in this state, the all important lesson, that county prisons, instead of remaining schools of idleness and vice, many under proper regulations, restrain the stridings of crime, and become, to a certain extent, self-paying institutions.”53 The focus was on making the prisoners pay for their incarceration and that the offenders did their time without imposing a financial burden on the city.

At the penitentiary all prisoners were expected to work and careful records of the numbers of those employed in which enterprise as well as the money made by these activities were prepared and presented in the annual reports, thereby illustrating the overriding importance of prisoner labor, detailed record keeping, and turning a profit. From the beginning, the greatest number inmates worked making shoes while a smaller number canned chairs and made baskets. About a dozen prisoners maintained the grounds, grading the land and engaged in other types of outdoor work. Shoe making remained the major activity and by 1876 inmates in the three workshops completed some 3,000 pairs each day. The largest market for the shoes was in the southern states where they were sold primarily to blacks. Already in the first year of operations the shoe making shops earned close to a thousand dollars and the figure rose annually.54

In their Second Annual Report, submitted on December 2, 1850, the Inspectors revealed that under Pilsbury's direction, the Penitentiary cost $10,261 to operate and prisoner labor earned $9,810. “Within a fraction, [the prison] has supported itself,” the Inspectors reported proudly. Within a year the Penitentiary recorded a profit in its operation. From the date of its opening until the end of the fiscal year 1877, the earnings over expenses amounted to a whopping $352,566.28. Revenue came not only from the labor of the prisoners. The Albany County Penitentiary housed prisoners from other counties throughout the state and charged fees for that service.55

Neighboring counties saw fiscal advantages in sending prisoners to Albany. “Boarding their prisoners at the Albany penitentiary incurred no additional cost above that of the home jail custody,” insisted Zebulon Brockway, Amos Pilsbury's deputy. “At the same time [the jail] avoided the evil of the discharge of itinerant and other prisoners into their own immediate community.” Brockway pointed out the alleged benefits for the prisoners who, he wrote, “instead of idleness, corrupting communications, and the degrading influence of jail confinement,” were sent to Albany. Here, they were held “under good hygienic conditions” and “corrupting communications among them were almost entirely prevented and their minds and bodily energies were healthfully engaged in useful industry.”56

The amount of money earned by the penitentiary for the incarceration of prisoners from other counties was significant even though the number of prisoners was not great. Of the approximately 500 prisoners received at the penitentiary in 1849, for example, only several dozen came from other counties. At the end of the year the prison held about 180 individuals, most imprisoned for short terms, and that figure was the daily average. The success of the penitentiary led to growth in number of prisoners, and during the early 1860s additional buildings, workshops and other facilities were constructed, all with the intention of earning a profit. Through the 1880s prisoners from other counties and as far away as Washington, D.C. were sent to Albany.57

The profitability of the Albany County Penitentiary demonstrated its success in meeting the original mandate from the board of supervisors. Additional attention came because of its concern for the rehabilitation of the prisoners, interest in their “moral improvement.” The annual reports from the Inspectors repeated this commitment to the moral reform of the prisoners. The gains made by the chaplain and the benefits of religious training, the Inspectors and penitentiary staff worried, were compromised, however, by the incarceration of prisoners for short terms, generally ten to ninety days. Prisoners could barely recover their health or sobriety during this time which was “entirely too short to effect any reformation in the culpri” and often amounted to a financial burden.58

Albany’s inspectors were aware of recent changes in prison management. Already in the Second Annual Report, submitted on December 2, 1850, the Inspectors wrote at length about the current trends in prison reform and “the modern theory of punishment which recognizes as its chief end, the repression of crime, and the reformation of the offender.” The inspectors demonstrated their knowledge of the work of John Howard, the poor conditions of English prisons and the lessons for America. They argued against long term imprisonment which “serve to shut out all hope from the breast of the convict,” for care in dealing with first time offenders and in favor of the creation of societies to aid released prisoners.59

That the Albany County Penitentiary pioneered such developments meant that its progress would be widely discussed and emulated. Local supporters boasted of its success and in 1848 insisted that “The Albany Penitentiary is destined to be the pioneer of a new system of criminal punishment.” At least two counties were constructing facilities patterned after Albany, and local jails and prisons of other counties were in desperate need of attention and improvement. “If it be a desideratum that the county prisons in the state of New York shall become self-supporting institutions, and at the same time reformatory in morals, there is no hazard in predicting that the example will be extensively followed,” he wrote. “The county of Albany had aided materially in hastening a great and important result in political economy.” The journal Prisoner’s Friend stated in 1856 that “We have always considered the penitentiary at Albany as a model institution.”60

The Albany County Penitentiary thrived over the next decades as both the inmate population and profits from their labor grew. By 1870 the value of the penitentiary, constructed originally at a cost of $60,000 was estimated to be $250,000. The penitentiary continued to post a hefty annual profit.61 In 1870 Amos Pilsbury resigned and his son Louis took over as superintendent and he operated it along the same lines. The glory days of the “model prison of the world” were soon to end, however. The fundamental element of the program at the Penitentiary, prisoner labor, was largely halted in the late 1800s because of challenges from organized labor and small businesses. New legislation restricted the employment of prisoners. Corruption and political influence also affected its operations. In June 1886, a judge explained that payments of “$25 [were offered] for every long-term prisoner so sentenced.” Political parties competed over the post of the superintendent because “the patronage of the penitentiary is considered a good plum,” commented the New York Times.62 In February 1901 the State Prison Commission recommended that the Albany County Penitentiary be closed. In 1919 Zebulon Brockway wrote that “the penitentiary have deteriorated until they are again substantially large common jails not very much better than was the original county lockup.”63

Over the following decades, the employment of prisoners at the Albany County Penitentiary continued to drop as opposition to prison labor mounted. In 1906 it was reported that “large numbers of prisoners have but little employment,” and prisoners sat idle in the workshops for three hours each morning and afternoon.64 In 1915, the State Commission of Prisons observed that the failure to provide employment at the Albany penitentiary was "one of its worst features." Prisoners, it found, were “compelled to sit in idleness in a room formerly used as a shop except when they are given exercise in the prison yard.” By then conditions had deteriorated to the point where the State Commission of Prisons wrote that county authorities ought to consider closing the penitentiary. The Commission identified the Albany prison as one of the few prisons in the state that “still compels prisoners to wear stripes. The practice, however, is in harmony with the general repressive character of the institution.”65

No improvements were made and the expense of maintaining the facility far exceeded the funds earned. By 1921 the deficit had grown to $49,460, and the annual report of the State Commission of Prisons recommended “that the penitentiary be abandoned....This matter has been agitated for more than ten years and prompt action on the part of the authorities is necessary.”66

According to the 1929 annual report, the decision was made that “as soon as the new county jail, which is to be erected outside of the city limits, is completed this institution will be abandoned.” The penitentiary was closed on September 9, 1931.67

Called by early advocates “the model prison of the world,” the Albany County Penitentiary demonstrated that the reform elements of the Auburn penal system could be adopted by local jails and that incarceration did not have to impose a fiscal burden on the community. The establishment of the penitentiary in Albany was due largely to the determination of the local
government, led by representatives of the new commercial elite, to reduce the fiscal burdens and to make prisoners pay for their incarceration. Local officials hired Amos Pilsbury who had already made a prison self-financing, and he was successful in Albany. Early on civic leaders voiced concern about the rights of prisoners and they adopted a program to aid in reforming them, a program based on religious training and discipline in the workshop. The combination of frugality and reform directed by Pilsbury incorporated the desires and ethics of the new urban elite and this led to the development of a local prison system that proved effective in achieving its objectives and instilling factory discipline on the prisoners. Central to the Albany system were strong doses of work, rigid discipline, and religious training which proved beneficial for the prisoners who were almost exclusively non-violent and minor offenders. Most contemporary accounts attested to the success of the program in instilling discipline in the prisoners and ensuring that they remained law-abiding after their release. The profits shown annually at Albany made its program attractive to other local institutions. Its experience showed that the ideals underlying the development of the penitentiary on the state level could be applied to urban communities and that the same principles, discipline, frugality, religion, guided prison operations there too. The mounting opposition to convict labor in the latter years of the nineteenth century led to renewed fiscal problems, however. By the time the Albany County Penitentiary was closed in 1931, this institution, once heralded by boosters as “the model prison of the world,” had long outlived its usefulness.


Dr. Robert G. Waite is a historian based in Shushan, New York. He earned a PhD in history from SUNY Binghamton and specializes in the history of law enforcement and crime. Currently, he is afffiliated with the Memorial Site for German Resistance in Berlin, Germany.

Endnotes

1. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary (Albany: J. Munsell, 1848), p. 5.
2. J.H. French, Gazetteer of the State of New York (Syracuse: R.P. Smith, Publisher, 1860), p.
41. N. K. Teeters, The Prison at Philadelphia, Cherry Hill: The Separate System of Prison Discipline, 1829-1913 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1957), pp. 17-23, 93-105. Blake McKelvey, American Prisons: A History of Good Intentions (Montclair, New Jersey: Patterson Smith Publishing Company, 1977), pp. 11-25. W. David Lewis, From Newgate to Dannemora: The Rise of the Penitentiary in New York, 1796-1848 (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 1965), pp. 81ff. E. C. Wines and Theodore W. Dwight, Report on the Prisons and Reformatories of the United States and Canada (Albany: Van Benthuysen & Sons, 1867), pp. 50, 55. Michnael Ignatieff, “State, Civil Society, and Total Institutions: A Critique of Recent Social Histories of Punishment,” in Michael Tonry and Norval Morris, editors, Crime and Justice,
Volume 3 (1981), p. 161.
3. Frederick Howard Wines, Punishment and Reformation: A Study of the Penitentiary System (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 1919), pp. 133-167. David J. Rothman, The Discovery of the Asylum: Social Order and Disorder in the New Republic (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1971), pp. 79-108.
4. Adam Jay Hirsch, The Rise of the Penitentiary: Prisons and Punishment in Early America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), pp. 112-117. Dario Melossi and Massimo Pavarini, The Prison and the Factory: Origins of the Penitentiary System (Totowa, New Jersey: Barnes & Noble Books, 1981), pp. 123-139. Robert G. Waite, “From Penitentiary to Reformatory: Alexander Maconochie, Walter Crofton, Zebulon Brockway, and the Road to Prison Reform-- New South Wales, Ireland, and Elmira, New York, 1840-70,” Criminal Justice History 12(1991), pp. 86-105. “Present State of the Prison Question in the United States,” Hours at Home. A Popular Monthly of Instruction and Recreation 8(April 1869), p. 539.
5. Philip Klein, Prison Methods in New York State (New York: Columbia University, 1920), pp. 221-223. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, 5. Biographical sketch of Amos Pilsbury, and A Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary (Albany: Joel Munsell Printer, 1849). "Pilsbury, Amos," Dictionary of American Biography (New York: Charles Schribner's Sons, 1934), pp. 610-611. David Dyer, Impressions of Prison Life in Great Britain submitted to the Inspectors and Superintendent of the Albany Penitentiary (Albany, New York: J. Munsell, 1868). “Albany Penitentiary,” Prisoner’s Friend (May 1, 1851), p. 421.
6. Ignatieff, “State, Civil Society, and Total Institutions,” pp. 164-166. David Dyer, History of the Albany Penitentiary (Albany: Joel Munsell, 1867), p. 2. Dyer served as the chaplain at the penitentiary beginning in February 1856. The Model Prison of the World (Albany: J.Munsell, 1877). “Albany Penitentiary,” in Howell and Tenney, History of the County of Albany, N.Y., from 1609 to 1886 (New York: W.W. Munsell & Col, 1886), pp. 352-353. State of New York, Fourth Annual Report of the State Commission of Correction for the Year 1930 (Ossining: Sing Sing Prison, 1931), pp. 29, 134-136.
7. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 5.
8. Model Prison of the World, p. 3.
9. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 5.
10. On the miserable conditions in county prisons, see the report “Memoranda of Observations at Sundry County Gaols and State Penitentiaries of the West,” Pennsylvania Journal of Prison Discipline and Philanthropy 10(July 1855), pp. 137ff.
11. Model Prison of the World, p. 3. Dyer, History of the Albany Penitentiary, p. 7.
12. Quoted in Dyer, History of the Albany Penitentiary, pp. 7-8.
13. Model Prison of the World, p. 3.
14. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 8. The Model Prison of the World, p. 3.
15. Quoted in Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 9. Emphasis in original. “At a Meeting of the Common Council of the City of Albany...7th day of February AD 1844,” Albany County Hall of Records, Albany, New York.
16. Quoted in Dyer, History of Albany County Penitentiary, p. 10.
17. “Productive Industry in Prison,” Prisoner’s Friend (September 1, 1855), p. 18. The issue of prison labor and its competition with free-labor would long be an issue of contention. For an early critique of prison labor, see “Penitentiary Labor in Albany!!!,” Mechanic’s Advocate I(September 11, 1847), p. 317.
18. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 5. Nathaniel C. Moak, compiler, Statutes Relating to the Albany County Penitentiary, with Forms of Commitment, Record of Conviction, -25- Contract with Boards of Supervisors, etc., etc. (Albany, New York: J. Munsell, 1872), pp. 3-6. “An Act for the construction of a Penitentiary, and in relation to the relief of the Poor in the county of Albany,” Chap. 152, April 13, 1844, Laws of the State of New York, Passed at the Sixty-Seventh Session of the Legislature (Albany: C. Van Benthuysen and Co., 1844), pp. 224-227.
19. “Act for the construction of a Penitentiary,” p. 224.
20. On the issue of public intoxication in Albany, see Frederick H. Wines and John Koren, The Liquor Problem in its Legislation Aspects, 2nd edition (Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1898), pp. 400-402.
21. Dyer devotes a full chapter to the issue of “Severance From Politics” and quoted an early observer who stated that “No political consideration, no merely party question or motive is allowed the slightest weight in the appointments to office, or in the conduct of the Institution.” Dyer, History of the Albany Penitentiary, pp. 154-164.
22. Ibid., pp. 12-13. McKelvey, American Prisons, pp. 11-24. Wines and Dwight, Report on the Prisons and Reformatories of the United States and Canada, pp. 50, 55.
23. Quoted in Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 14-15.
24. Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, for the Government and Discipline of the Albany County Penitentiary (Albany: Joel Munsell, Printer, 1849), p. 10. First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary (Albany: Joel Munsell, Printer, 1850), p. 9.
25. Dyer, History of the Albany Penitentiary, p. 60. Sketch of the Life and Public Services of Amos Pilsbury, Superintendent of the Albany Penitentiary, and Late General Superintendent of the Metropolitan Police (Albany: Munsell & Rowland, 1860), pp. 9-10.
26. Biographical Sketch of Amos Pilsbury, p. 2. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 51. William C. Rogers, “Amos Pilsbury,” Prisoner’s Friend (February 1, 1854), p. 243.
27. Sketch of the Life of Amos Pilsbury, p. 6. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 50-51.
28. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 52-56. “Amos Pilsbury,” The American Literary Magazine 4(April 1849), p. 587. Rogers, “Amos Pilsbury,” p. 243. McKelvey, American Prisons, pp. 15-16.
29. Dyer, History of the Albany Penitentiary, pp. 56, 58. Sketch of the Life and Public Services of Amos Pilsbury, pp. 11-15.
30. Model Prison of the World, p. 4.-26-
31. First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 6-8.
32. Ibid., pp. 7, 9.
33. Model Prison of the World, p. 9. Zebulon Brockway who served under Pilsbury and went on to be Superintendent at the Elmira Reformatory wrote that the site is "picturesque and suggests rather an institution for an educational or charitable purpose than a penitentiary;" Zebulon Brockway, Fifty Years of Prison Service: An Autobiography (New York: Charities Publication Committee, 1919), p. 45. See the summary of his career in “Z.R. Brockway, Reformer,” Boston Daily Globe (August 4, 1900).
34. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 3.
35. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 5. The Model Prison of the World, p. 5. First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 6. Dyer, History of the Albany Penitentiary, pp. 21-22.
36. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 3-4.
37. Model Prison of the World, 6. Prisoners tended to disagree and found the conditions extremely hot in summer and very cold in winter; see the account by Seth Wilbur Payne, Behind the Bars: A Book (New York: Vincent & Co., 1873), pp. 4, 30, 35.
38. See the engraving of the penitentiary in Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 4. M. Heater Tomlinson, “‘Prison Palaces’: a Re-Appraisal of Early Victorian Prisons, 1835-77,” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research LI(May 1978), p. 66.
39. First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 6-8, 21. Most Model Prison in the World, p. 4. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 23.
40. Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, for the Government of the Albany County Penitentiary (Albany: Joel Munsell, Printer, 1849), pp. 3-5. Payne, Behind the Bars, p. 13.
41. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 6.
42. Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, pp. 12-15. Payne, Behind the Bars, pp. 13-14.
43. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 182, 186-187. "Chaplain's Report," First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 35-37. Wines, Report on the Prisons, pp. 184, 202, 209-212.
44. Model Prison of the World, pp. 7-8. "Chaplain's Report," First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 35-36. Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, pp. 6-7. Rev. Theodore Noethen, Fifty-Three Sermons Preached in the Albany County Penitentiary, -27- From May, 1874, to April, 1878 (New York: Benziger Bros., 1879).
45. Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, p. 7. "Chaplain's Report," First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 37.
46. “Letter From a Discharged Convict,” Prisoner’s Friend 8(February 1, 1856), p. 158.
47. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 194-198; and for accounts of reformed prisoners, pp. 199-223.
48. Emphasis in the original, Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, p. 6. Payne, Behind the Bars, p. 18.
49. Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, pp. 5, 15.
50. Ibid., pp. 6-17. Brockway, Fifty Years of Prison Service, pp. 47-48.
51. “Our State Institutions-XI. The Albany Penitentiary,” New York Times (December 18, 1871). “The Male Serving-Maid,” New York Daily Times (November 8, 1854.)
52. Rules, Regulations and By-Laws, pp. 16-18.
53. See, for example, “Albany Penitentiary,” Prisoner’s Friend (February 1, 1856), p. 151. Second Annual Report, p. 6. Brockway, Fifty Years of Prison Service, p. 48.
54. Pilsbury's success in guiding the penitentiary industries through economic hard times led one observer to write that it was “the model prison of the world;” see, Model Prison of the World, pp. 16-17. First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 19-21. Second Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 28, 30.
55. The dollar amount of the earnings is in Model Prison of the World, p. 28. A profit of $1,013.07 for the year ending October 31, 1851, was identified in the Third Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary (Albany: Joel Munsell, 1852), pp. 6-7, 10. “An Act to amend 'An act for the construction of a Penitentiary, in the county of Albany,' passed April 13, 1844,” Chap. 183, May 3, 1847, Laws of the State of New-York Passed at the First Meeting of the Seventieth Session, Volume 1 (Albany: Charles Van Benthuysen, 1847), pp. 170-172. This law allowed the supervisors of Rensselaer, Saratoga, Schenectady, Schoharie, Greene, and Columbia counties to make such agreements. See also “An Act to authorize the confinement of persons convicted of certain offenses in the county of Duchess, in the penitentiary of the county of Albany, and to prescribe the punishment of certain offense,” Chap 261, April 15, 1854, Laws of the State of New-York Passed at the Seventy-Seventh Session of the Legislature (Albany: Weed, Parsons & Co., Printers, 1854), pp. 576-577. The latter law covered those convicted as “vagrants” or “disorderly person.” -28-
56. Brockway, Fifty Years of Prison Service, pp. 48-49. “Albany Penitentiary,” in Bi-centennial History of Albany, p. 352.
57. First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 21, 24-25. Second Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 29, 32. Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 118-133. The expansion was timely, and in September 1862 Albany received 131 prisoners from Washington, D.C.; see Dyer, History of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 110-111. Most prisoners had committed property offenses; see “Westchester County,” New York Times (December 24, 1872), and “Sending Up Counterfeiters,” New York Times (May 16, 1884).
58. First Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 10-11, 27. Second Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 8-9. Third Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 13-16.
59. Second Annual Report of the Inspectors of the Albany County Penitentiary, pp. 12-19, 35-38. The Inspectors sent the chaplain to England to visit prisons in 1867; see, David Dyer, Impressions of Prison Life in Great Britain submitted to the Inspectors and Superintendent of the Albany Penitentiary (Albany, New York: J. Munsell, 1868).
60. Brief Account of the Albany County Penitentiary, p. 6. In his memoirs, Zebulon Brockway identifies a number of prisons modeled upon Albany; Fifty Years of Prison Service, p. 49. See Model Prison of the World, pp. 11-12. E. C. Wines stated that the penitentiary in Albany, and those in Monroe and Erie counties which were based on the Albany Penitentiary, should “be justly pronounced model institutions.”; Wines, Report on the Prisons, p. 351, and Klein, Prison Methods in New York State, pp. 222-223. The State Penitentiary of Wisconsin was modeled on Albany; see “Memoranda of Observations at Sundry County Gaols and State Penitentiaries at the West,” The Pennsylvania Journal of Prison Discipline X(July 1855), p. 137. “Albany Penitentiary,” Prisoner’s Friend (February 1, 1856), p. 151.
61. “The Annual Report of Gen. Pilsbury” in “Legal News,” Albany Law Journal (December 31, 1870), p. 524. In 1870, the penitentiary reported $18,132.25 in earnings; see “The Albany Penitentiary,” New York Evangelist 42(January 12, 1871), p. 7.
62. “ Albany County Paying the Cost,” New York Times (November 1, 1880). “Judge Nott’s Amazing Charge. Brides Offered for Prisoners in the Albany Penitentiary,” New York Times (June 23, 1886). “Barnes and Anti-Barne. One Plum That Still Hanges High - Politicians Who Want to be Superintendent of the Penitentiary,” New York Times (June 24, 1895).
63. Model Prison of the World, pp. 9-10, 13, 16-17. “To Close County Prisons,” New York Times (February 6, 1901); “Criticizes Albany Prison,” New York Times (September 8, 1909); and “Albany Prisons Unfit. Commissioner Reports That Penitentiary in Particular Is Degrading,” New York Times (September 12, 1910). Brockway, Fifty Years of Prison Service, pp. 49-50. Second Annual Report of the State Commission of Prisons for the Year 1896, transmitted to the -29- Legislature, January 27 1897 (Albany and New York: Wynkoop Hallenbeck Crawford Co., 1897), pp.146-147. Seventh Annual Report of the State Commission of Prisons for the Year 1901, transmitted to the Legislature, January 17, 1902 (Albany and New York: Wynkoop Hallenbeck Crawford Co., 1902), p. 47.
64. See, for example, “Convict Labor in New York, New York Times (December 29, 1898). Eleventh Annual Report of the State Commission of Prisons for the Year 1906, transmitted to the Legislature March 5, 1906 (Albany and New York: Wynkoop Hallenbeck Crawford Co., 1902), p. 115.
65. Nineteenth Annual Report of the State Commission of Prisons For the Year 1913, Transmitted to the Legislature March 18, 1914 (Albany: J.B. Lyon Company, Printers, 1914), pp. 54-55. Twenty-First Annual Report of the State Commission of Prisons for the Year 1915,Transmitted to the Legislature March 31, 1916 (Ossining, N.Y.: Sing Sing Prison, 1916), pp. 39, 107-108.
66. Twenty-Eighth Annual Report of the State Commission of Prisons For the Year 1912 (Ossining, N.Y.: Sing Sing Prison, 1923), p. 184.
67. State of New York, Third Annual Report of the State Commission of Correction for the Year 1929 (Ossining: Sing Sing Prison, 1930), p. 116. State of New York, Sixth Annual Report of the State Commission of Correction for the Year 1932 (Ossining: Sing Sing Prison, 1933), p. 24.

The Full Share of Hardships Usual to a New Settlement, they Experienced…” Walton, New York and Public Memory


by Larry Dake

Copyright ©2011. All rights reserved.


Introduction: Pattengill’s “Fifteen Questions”
            In the January 27, 1857 edition of the Walton Blade, First Congregational Church Rev. J.S. Pattengill issued a call for Walton residents to record their town’s history. In doing so, he established the groundwork for Walton’s public memory. Pattengill had the first settlers in mind when he wrote, “We wish for the help of those who came to this place previous to 1812; of those who were born in this town previous to 1806.”[i] Pattengill’s “Fifteen Questions” established which facts and stories would be recorded as history and which would be excluded. From this selective historical record, Walton’s public memory would be constructed. Specifically, he asked families to consider fifteen questions:




1. What year did your family, or your Father’s family remove to this place?
2. From what town and state did they remove?
3. What time of the year – the month and day of arrival?
4. By what route did they come?
5. Where did they settle; on what farm?
6. How much land did they buy?
7. What did they pay per acre?
8. By whom was their deed executed and at what date?
9. What incidents occurred in the family, or neighborhood, which were of interest to the family or neighborhood?
10. What anecdotes are remembered?
11. What were the religious habits and positions of the family in the neighborhood?
12. What the number of family – and how many are dead and the age of death?
13. How many living, and who; and how many have removed?
15. (sic) What amount of property when settling here?
[ii]

At their core, Pattengill’s questions concern family history. The responses to this call for memory would be time-specific and ideological in nature, however. Whether Pattengill intended this is unknown. Regardless of intention, Pattengill’s call for public memory arose out of a specific historical context driven by two factors. First, by the 1850’s, the town’s original settlers were disappearing from Walton’s social fabric. Those who settled Walton between 1785 and 1815 were dying at a rapid clip in post-Jacksonian America. Pattengill feared that their memory would be forgotten if their stories were not recorded for posterity’s sake. Secondly, the 1850’s dire political situation, I argue, may have caused Walton’s inhabitants to seek their founding’s ideological restatement. In an increasingly unstable political and social atmosphere, Pattengill issued a call for public memory in an attempt to provide stability.

Walton’s public memory, as constructed following Pattengill’s historical clarion call, situated it residents in a republican past, a stable present, and a promising future. I will argue that Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper historians, by stressing such essential republican themes as virtue, industry, and thrift, fashioned an imagined public memory that facilitated a specific version of Walton’s history to be remembered. This was a time-specific historical construction.  Walton’s public memory did not migrate with the first settlers; rather, it was constructed approximately seventy years after Walton’s successful settlement.

From 1857 through 1880, Walton’s history was recorded in four separate newspaper series articles. These newspaper articles utilized republican themes to construct how Walton’s settlement and growth would be remembered. Three main constructs are represented in Walton’s public memory. First, Walton’s original founding families were remembered in an especially romantic light. Additionally, Walton’s settlement and population growth were celebrated.  Finally, the public memory of Walton’s citizens was heroically conceptualized. Republican ideology – which would have been familiar to nineteenth-century Waltonians – shaped how these three constructed were remembered.  Walton’s public memory became an exercise in writing a specific version of Walton history as much as an attempt to reconstruct the town’s founding.

Recording Walton’s History: The Context

Walton’s public memory was constructed approximately seventy years after the town’s initial settlement. In March 1770, King George III granted William Walton 20,000 acres of land in upstate New York. Walton, a prominent New York City merchant, appears to have made a purely speculative purchase; there is no record that he ever visited his tract. The present towns of Walton, Sidney, and Masonville were encompassed in this transaction.[iii]  The land remained unsettled by European-Americans throughout the Revolutionary conflict.  That struggle, however, would shape who ultimately settled the Walton Patent.

Three of Walton’s founding fathers – Platt Townsend, Joshua Pine, and Robert North – all suffered during America’s struggle for political independence. Britain’s occupation of New York City for much of the conflict had driven these men from their homes and led to their livelihood’s destruction. Faced with uncertain economic conditions following the 1783 Treaty of Paris, these three men and their families were predisposed to migration. While the relationship’s specifics remain nebulous, Townsend’s association with William Walton provided the opportunity. Townsend contracted to purchase 5,000 acres of the Walton Patent for immediate settlement.  Recruiting his friends Pine and North, their families, and William Furman’s family, the group of twenty settlers embarked for their new homes in March 1785.[iv]
Pushed by the Revolutionary Conflict and pulled by the promise of Walton Patent land, this small group left their homes on Long Island and in Southeastern Connecticut for a fresh start. Their movement cannot be viewed in isolation, however. The Revolutionary conflict caused similar social and economic dislocation throughout the newly independent United States. The 1783-1787 period, between the Treaty of Paris and the Constitutional Convention, witnessed scores of relocations similar to Walton’s settlement.[v] As Walton’s settlement underscores, the Revolutionary conflict did more than free America from British constraints; it provided the context for a vast migration of peoples into areas previously unsettled by European-Americans. Townsend, North, Pine, and their group’s decision to settle the Walton Patent was a conscious decision in an era of extreme dislocation. Seeking a fresh start, these men and women traveled to an unknown area in search of a world left behind by the Revolutionary conflict.

Republican Ideology and Walton’s Public Memory

As aforementioned, this settlement’s history would be remembered through republican lenses. An undertaking as large as settling a new area necessitates strong wills and beliefs. The original settlers and their successors inhabited an America steeped in republican ideology. Following a successful revolution against Europe’s most powerful nation, many Americans experienced a nationalistic wave that facilitated the new country’s westward expansion. Walton’s public memory would be written within this ideological context.

Virtue, industry, and thrift were the main republican constructs pulsating through Walton’s public memory.  Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper historians, seeking to situate their town’s memory in this tradition, exploited republican ideology in their writings. In step with national trends, Walton’s newspaper historians deemed virtue essential to Walton’s successful settlement and growth. Virtue became a unifying theme that guided the founding settlers to rid themselves of corruption, greed, and moral wrongdoing, according to Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper historians. Furthermore, virtue encompassed a community ethic in this tradition.[vi] The founding families and their successors could not have successfully settled a wilderness without virtue.  Virtue imbued the founding settlers with a sense that their journey was more than a personal resettlement: they were transplanting civilization itself.

While virtue dictated how the founders’ aspirations would be constructed, industry determined the community’s success upon initial settlement. Only through hardship and perseverance, it would be believed, did Walton survive and grow. The founders and subsequent generations are painted as possessing a unique propensity to work.  Industry rested on more than farm building, however. Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper historians were careful to identify citizens with other specialized skills and talents. Skilled craftwork was essential to a republican concept of industry.[vii] Walton, as nineteenth-century historians would note time and again, attracted industrious men and women.

Along with virtue and industry, Walton’s citizens would be noted for their thrift. As will be demonstrated, Walton’s republican citizenry would be described as neither wealthy nor impoverished. By painting Walton as a middle-class agricultural community, Walton’s nineteenth-century historians held thrift as an ideal. According to them, Walton was never an opulent community. Rather, its citizenry reinvested hard-earned profits into the town, their businesses, their farms, and their children. Conspicuous displays of wealth and status were implicitly rejected throughout the newspaper articles. Simplicity, one of republican ideology’s main tenets,[viii] was awarded high praise in Walton’s public memory.

These three republican constructs – virtue, industry, and thrift – comprise the prism through which Walton’s public memory was written. The writing of the history itself, in addition, was also considered a virtuous undertaking. In an unstable political environment, Walton’s successful future depended upon its current residents internalizing the founder’s personal characteristics. Allowing their struggles and achievements to be forgotten would have had disastrous consequences for Walton’s future generations. Recording their history and, more importantly, their memory, became essential to survival in the 1850’s political caldron.[ix]

Public Memory of Walton’s First Families

Along with the construction of Walton’s public memory, the town’s initial settlement arose out of a specific historical context. As mentioned above, Platt Townsend, Joshua Pine, Robert North, William Furman, and their families migrated from Long Island to the Walton Patent in March 1785. Social and economic dislocation, emanating from the Revolution, predisposed these families to migration. Traveling while winter snow still blanketed the Catskills, those first settlers doubtless endured many hardships and privations along the way.  The first response to Pattengill’s call for articles notes that Walton’s settlement was undergirded by those “characteristics that required fortitude and patient struggles.”[x] Later in this article, this author notes that the first settlers were mostly men and women of small means but “rich in the virtue of endurance.”[xi]

Although their journey was undoubtedly arduous, Walton’s first settlers were led by a talented and well-resourced leader. Platt Townsend graduated from King’s College at age sixteen and spent three years in England studying among Europe’s most-renowned physicians. Colonial New York’s distinguished social circles were open to him.  After earning a medical degree from Edinborough, he served as Surgeon General of Connecticut’s troops during the Revolutionary conflict.[xii] Far from a down-and-out pauper, Townsend possessed political, social, and economic resources to successfully settle the Walton Patent.

Townsend was an unusual candidate to lead a resettlement migration. His entire life had been spent in a powerful social and political milieu. Yet, after the Revolutionary conflict, he removed himself from that context altogether and settled an obscure land parcel on upstate New York’s frontier. His two main accomplices, Pine and North, had also suffered during the war with Great Britain. Both families had been refugees in Connecticut during Britain’s occupation of New York City. How these three men came to know each other, however, is a mystery. Walton’s foremost historian, Arthur North, makes this passing comment:  “Let it suffice, that in late 1784, the three men came together.”[xiii] While all three were predisposed to migration following the Revolution, their personal histories would be consumed by their public memory as nineteenth-century newspaper historians painted their deeds with a republican brush tinted with virtue, industry, and thrift.

As might be expected, Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper articles bestowed the highest praise on these original settlers. Especially critical to this memory was the 1785 to 1815 settlement period. The nineteenth-century articles demonstrated an awareness that Walton’s success was not guaranteed. Rather, it was safeguarded through its settler’s adherence to republican ideals. According to this constructed public memory, it had been the original settlers’ virtue, industry, and thrift that facilitated the community’s successful settlement. An early contributor to Walton’s nineteenth-century public memory makes this clear:

At the beginning of the present century, a large portion of the Town was settled and society had taken shape, and the blessings of industry began to be abundantly recompensed in the comforts of life.[xiv]

In these authors’ minds, the first settlers’ virtue evinced itself in their ability to transform a dense forest into a viable community. Much emphasis is given on the first human interaction the settlers had after reaching their destination. After traveling over the Catskill Mountains in deep snow and harsh weather, the first group stopped in present-day Downsville with a family a family named Ackerly. Thanking this family for their hospitality, the group “performed the first missionary labor by giving the old lady who could not read English a Dutch bible.  The balance of the party opened a road over Colchester Mountain.”[xv]
Utilizing the term “missionary labor” to describe the first settlers’ conduct is not surprising. Personal virtue manifested itself in this missionary act and the subsequent labor undertaken to open a road. One newspaper article remembered “in less than five years from that time [the original settlement], nearly all the arable land in Walton was settled by the old Puritan stock; and I believe no town in New England has so strictly adhered to the old Puritan principles.”[xvi] To the nineteenth-century historians, the highest spiritual and temporal virtue was evident in the first settlers’ initial migration. Their religious virtue not only merited their survival, but facilitated their ability to attract other pious settlers, as well.

Although initially overwhelmed by the Walton Patent’s dense forests and deep snow,[xvii] the town’s first pioneers quickly set to the task of creating a community. The first settlers’ industry and thrift are apparent:

The industry of the men soon opened little clearings that let in the sunshine.  Planting, sowing, and harvesting were all done in the first season.  Potatoes were counted to see how many it would do to eat each day and save enough for seed.[xviii]

Besides ensuring the community had enough to eat, the first pioneers kept a “potato-count” to maximize their plantings. Walton’s nineteenth-century citizens would be noted for their thrift; their founding families were remembered for possessing the same personal characteristics.

On July 11, 1878, Walton’s newspaper printed an “Old Time Letter” from Gabriel North, a member on Townsend’s initial group. Dated November 11, 1785, this letter provides unique insight into Walton’s settlement only months after the group’s arrival. Although written in 1785, this letter was utilized in 1878 to construct a specific memory of the town’s industrious, yet arduous, settlement.  Writing to his brother in New Canaan, Connecticut, North first addresses his health and safety: “I would inform you we are in perfect health, for which blessing I desire to be truly thankful, and hope this may find you and yours enjoying the same.”[xix]  North follows by noting that he has “laid a foundation for all the happiness this world can afford.”[xx]  He finished by addressing rumors that he and the settlers had died or were greatly suffering:

You say that my friends have expected letters from me; I am sorry to disappoint  them. Tell them I am perfectly satisfied with my situation, and find the country much better than I expected. We expect a number of settlers out in the spring…[xxi]

Although the writer does not delve into specifics, it provided first-hand affirmation for the newspaper’s public memory construction. North acknowledges that the migration to Walton and the community’s transition had been challenging. There is little doubt, however, that he and the first settlers planning on staying and developing their new land. Waltonians in 1878 would have resonated with North’s letter. The newspaper articles they had been reading over the past twenty years had painted the initial settlers as virtuous Americans whose industry and thrift facilitated Walton’s growth and development. The North letter affirms this message.  Walton historian Arthur North also echoes these sentiments in The Founders and the Founding of Walton’s final paragraph. North closes his 1924 history by writing:

And now, if the lives of these men and women, exemplifying the very best of the early making of American communities can be inspirations for later generations in Walton, or elsewhere, then the spirit of the founders will live on, throbbing again in the pulse of the nation they helped create.[xxii]

Walton’s first families would persist in the town’s memory and be remembered as paragons of republican virtue, industry, and thrift.

Public Memory of Walton’s Settlement and Growth

Along with Walton’s initial settlers, its rapid population growth would be remembered in a specific light. The Walton Patent land continued to attract new settlers in the 1785 to 1815 time period. As will be discussed below, a 570 population estimate for 1803 appears approximately correct. Walton’s newspaper historians postulate growth as stemming from migration more than births; if correct, over four hundred new settlers arrived in Walton by the early nineteenth century. Along with large in-migration, however, Walton experienced persistence in family names that remained stable throughout the nineteenth century. These factors led nineteenth century newspaper historians to infuse Walton’s settlement and growth with republican characteristics. Much like the first families, but on a less personal level, Walton’s success as a town was rooted in this public memory.

Shortly after Pattengill’s open letter, newspaper authors began discussing Walton’s settlement and growth.  Primarily, the settlement’s success was measured through population growth. While the quantitative figures will be further discussed, this growth’s qualitative aspects also received substantial press. In the 1857’s series’ second historical article, one author wrote:

…this nation is a migratory nation, whose home is anywhere and everywhere at it suits convenience, speculation, or caprice, and no family attachments fasten permanently to one spot.[xxiii]

Walton, according to this author, is the exception to the rule. While some have squatted on land and removed, the author contended, the vast majority laid down roots in the Walton community. Pattengill’s “Fifteen Questions” support this claim.  Family history forms his inquiry’s core. Pattengill, who was Walton’s First Congregational Church pastor, would have been extremely familiar with the community’s families. In addition, he appears to expect that most families capable of supplying history on Walton’s founding still reside within the town. Writing of the Stockton family in Walton history, one newspaper article discusses the early family’s persistence:

The attraction of Walton, to those who were born here, is very strong…we have tried breaking away from them ourselves, and can testify from experience, that some bewitching charm, mysterious and undefined, drew us back to our mountain home. We could in absence sympathize with the Israelites, when they longed in the wilderness for the good things of Egypt.[xxiv]

Walton’s settlement and population growth continued to be a popular topic for nineteenth century newspaper historians. Some pointed with pride to new roads opening. In 1810, for example, the Esopus Pike was constructed and connected Walton to the Hudson River. One author does not view this as coincidence.  Although the new turnpike provided new business opportunities, by 1810, Walton was already the county’s largest village. Those who built the road understood Walton’s industrious citizenry when they plotted its course.[xxv] Another article points with pride at the many travelers who stayed in Walton for a short respite before moving further west. In 1792, Walton’s first tavern and inn opened.  Moreover, westward-bound immigrants were noted for their continuous presence in Walton during this period.[xxvi] According to those constructing Walton’s public memory, this is further evidence of Walton’s deserving presence on the Esopus Pike.

Schools and churches were also quickly established. Nineteenth century newspaper historians pointed to these community mainstays as further proof of Walton’s progression from wilderness to civilization. “Civilization,” as a historical theme, abounds in several newspaper articles.[xxvii] Reinforcing republican ideology, Walton’s virtuous citizens relied upon their industry and thrift to transform a dense forest into a political and social entity. “Civilization’s” markers – schools and churches – play a prominent role in Walton’s public memory. As testaments to Walton’s republican character, they appear countless times throughout newspaper articles.  Commenting on Walton’s first schoolhouse, erected in 1801, one newspaper author is moved to write:

Nehemiah Richards occupied it as the first teacher, but since that time a silent and certain change has wrought a revolution. The teachers and his patrons, the fathers and mothers, of the past century have passed away.  Before them the forest fell, and by their toll and economy a future generation was provided with the blessings of civilization and religion, and before the scythe of time they have falled – the conquerors of the wilderness are conquered in turn, to partake of progress as by a law of destiny.[xxviii]
Along with education, nineteenth century Waltonians, like their founders, placed high emphasis on religion.  Churches were important to Walton’s public memory. The early settlers’ religious inclinations set Walton a virtuous path, according to the town’s most prominent nineteenth century religious historian:

It is providential, and, for the best interests and well being of the town, both civil and religious, a fortunate fact, that the early settlers were very many of them professors of religion, and nearly all of them accustomed to Sabbath and sanctuary…the mutual privations and hardships of a new settlement, as they do in all new and remote settlements, united the inhabitants in close attachment, and they mingled in social intercourse.[xxix]

Lacking formal religious institutions, the early settlers practiced their faith in family dwellings.  Upon completion, the aforementioned schoolhouse doubled as a meetinghouse for religious affairs. In 1795, a formal Congregational Church was established in Walton. By 1816, a Second Congregational Church had been erected approximately five miles from the town’s center to service those living on the village’s periphery.[xxx] Beyond constructing personal homes, tending agriculture and timber, and raising their families, the early settlers and their immediate successors established religious centers of worship. Reinforcing republican ideology, religion played a major role in constructing Walton’s public memory. Virtue, industry, and thrift all contained religious elements.

Migrating from Long Island and Southeast Connecticut, Walton’s early settlers were noted for their “Puritan” roots.  Church development played a significant role in Walton’s early population growth, as well. Calling a church entails mustering enough faithful inhabitants to support a minister.  By 1876, seven different Protestant denominations had established church bodies in Walton. Beyond the two Congregational assemblies, Walton boasted a Protestant Episcopal Church (1831), a First Methodist Church (1840), various Baptist churches in and around Walton, a Reformed Presbyterian Church (1861), and a United Presbyterian Church (1865) during the nineteenth century.[xxxi] The newspaper historians who constructed Walton’s public memory perceived the early settlers’ religious roots as the town’s faithful foundation. Moreover, the founder’s religiosity reinforced republican ideals of virtue, industry, and thrift. Religion and republicanism reinforced one another throughout the nineteenth century newspaper articles.

Public Memory of Walton’s Citizens

Along with its founders and the town’s successful settlement, Walton’s everyday citizens were also remembered through a republican lens. Specifically, newspaper articles pointed to a didactic purpose for Walton’s early citizens; their virtue, industry, and thrift provided guidance for future generations. Nineteenth-century newspaper historians, in general, glossed over the topic’s nuances and constructed an image of Walton’s inhabitants in line with republican ideology.

Newspaper historians were especially effusive in praise for the original settlers’ outstanding republican character:

Soon the ‘wilderness was made to blossom as the rose,’ for ‘every one had a mind to work.’  Each family soon had their garden, their patch of beans and potatoes, and a small field of corn planted among the fallen timber, after the brush was burned, and in the fall log up the ground and sow it to wheat, for rye was seldom raised in those days, the virgin soil yielding as large, if not larger crop of wheat than rye.[xxxii]

These newspaper articles provided a lesson in republican virtue, industry, and thrift for present and future generations. Intended to highlight the past and influence the future, these articles construct the early citizens’ public memory as the embodiment of republican character.

Along with possessing an industrious work ethic and thrifty habits, Walton’s citizens built a strong community principle. Walton, as a rural community, continues to be dominated by face-to-face interactions. The early settlers may have laid the foundation, but subsequent migrants also continued to building a virtuous community:

These new comers, as well as the earlier settlers, were almost universally, men and women of sober habits, of good health, and inured to labor, ready and eager to attack the forests, and lay the tall tree prostrate, the women frequently assisting in piling the burning the brush, and even in rolling up log heaps, when man’s help was scarce.[xxxiii]

Walton citizens built a viable community from the ground up. Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper historians pointed to the past with pride and a sense of nostalgia. A sense of reverence dominated the articles.  For those not alive at the town’s founding or those who migrated later, these early settlers must have seemed almost super-human. Addressing the current readership and future generations, one author was moved to write:

You may build roads, and churches, and stores and houses; you may multiply and replenish; you may increase in money value all your possessions, but you will never see the like again of those who once walked your streets, with the same high hopes…[xxxiv]

According to this constructed public memory, earlier generations may have possessed fewer material goods, but had something far more valuable: a higher sense of purpose. This near-religious reverence for Walton’s past citizens is articulated throughout several newspaper articles. Walton’s public memory, as constructed by the nineteenth century newspaper historians, placed the town’s citizenry on a high pedestal. Imbued with a didactic purpose, Walton’s past citizens could teach its current generations about living republican lives.

Many newspaper articles were family vignettes. Most of them, if not all of them, were contributed by members of the family in question. As might be expected, they contain strong republican themes. Many articles contain explicit examples of how families avoided public displays of wealth while preferring simple living. For example, the September 23, 1857 “Fitch Family Settlement” article stated:

They have a good reputation for moral character and industrious habits; not aspiring for worldly distinction or political favor, but in private life forming an important filling in the construction of society.  Most of them have enjoyed the comforts of competence, and few, if any have amassed wealth, generally too cautious to venture much, they have never struck out upon schemes of speculation, but have usually occupied a position of safe anchorage in social and financial life.[xxxv]

“Safe anchorage” represents well the republican ideal of thrift. Walton’s citizens, represented here through the Fitch family, recognized that venturesome speculation schemes led to avarice and worldly ruin. This idea of thrift also connects to virtue. The Fitches are portrayed as the archetypical Walton resident: eschewing monetary greed, business profits, and political collusion while living a virtuous life and contributing to the town’s social fabric. Walton’s citizenry as a whole are represented as exemplifying these republican precepts. The nineteenth-century newspaper historians went out of their way to portray Walton’s inhabitants as sober citizens who lived virtuous lives. If future generations lived such lives, Walton’s successful settlement would be safeguarded. Reverent and didactic, citizens in Walton’s public memory played an important role in these newspaper articles.

Community Growth: 1785 to 1885Walton’s residents would have had good reason to celebrate their town’s growth. In the 1875 newspaper series, one Walton resident enumerated the village’s population growth during its first one hundred years.  Focused on household populations, the author recognized what J.S. Pattengill also understood about Walton’s founding:  migration to the town was largely determined by kinship patterns. Cognizant that the family was the fundamental social unit, Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper historians recognized this structural element.  Before outlining population data, the author states:

A large proportion of the early settlers to Walton came from one or two towns in Fairfield County, CT, and were well acquainted with each other, and in many cases they were relations, and the first settlers gave such glowing accounts of the excellent locality of the place, the fertility of the soil, the beautiful river, and the large number of brooks flowing into it…that their friends and acquaintances came flocking in by scores, moving into the houses with relations and friends, until they could clear a patch of ground and roll up a log house for themselves.[xxxvi]

Along with Walton’s nineteenth-century growth and development, its settlement patterns had been a family affair, as well. Walton’s settlement would not succeed after only one migration, the founders realized. Kinship relations played a fundamental role in Walton’s initial settlement and subsequent population growth.  It should not be surprising, therefore, that the author chose to calculate Walton’s population growth by tracking household development. Methodologically, the author counts taxable household heads by multiples of five. By assuming five is a consistent average household size throughout nineteenth-century Walton, the author depicts a steady development centered on a stable household model of father, mother, children, and extended family, as well.

Walton’s population was twenty in March 1785 when Platt Townsend’s original group migrated from Long Island.  By 1803, the author estimated a population of 570. This population rise, the author notes, “arises more from emigration than from births.”[xxxvii] Such a large population increase, over approximately twenty years, initially appears erroneous. The 1800 federal census counted only 202 persons in Walton.[xxxviii]  Census methodology, however, did not count women and minor children at that time.  In light of census records, an 1803 population of 570 is not unreasonable. In less than twenty years, the author proudly asserts, Walton’s population rose from “nothing” to nearly six hundred.[xxxix]
Beginning in 1805, the author enumerated Walton’s population growth in five-year intervals. Modest growth continued throughout the early nineteenth century. In 1815, Walton’s population was estimated at 950.[xl]  The 1815 to 1835 period, in which the town’s second generation would have reached adulthood, showed substantial population increases. Beginning with a taxable list of 190 in 1815 (950 inhabitants), the author tracks growth until 1835, where 361 persons were taxed and 1805 estimated to live in the town.[xli] Walton’s population nearly doubled in the twenty-year period immediately after the War of 1812. To ensure credibility, the author cross-referenced his or her numbers against census totals and found a mere 51-person difference.  More confident in his or her numbers, the author stated “any census taken would be more liable to omit persons not found than to set down more than were found.”[xlii]
Although the 1840 population count marked a small increase, Walton’s growth continued unabated. The author attributes the small decline in the 1840 taxable list to the 1837 “general depression.”[xliii] The negative trend would not continue; by 1860, Walton’s total population was counted at 2750. The author again cross-references their numbers with the federal census.  2740 was the “official” figure for 1860. Only ten persons off from the constitutionally driven census count, the author remains confident in his or her numbers.  By 1870, the counts in this newspaper series, Walton’s taxable list included 657 persons for a total population of 3285.[xliv] In less than one hundred years, Walton’s population rose from twenty to approximately 3285. This quantitative data corroborated the qualitative public memory constructed around the republican themes of virtue, industry, and thrift. Remembered for their positive characteristics, Walton’s initial settlers and subsequent citizens were rewarded with exponential town growth.

By painstakingly recording Walton’s population growth, the author augments Walton’s idealized public memory.  In this theme, population growth equaled community success and material rewards for republican precepts of virtue, industry, and thrift. Only one year demonstrated a population decrease; even then, an external economic depression was to blame rather than an internal Walton problem. The 1875 newspaper series followed a line of reasoning that attributed Walton’s community success to its personal foundation. The original Walton Patent settlers were the initial paragons of republican virtue. Their personal characteristics and habits were seen as foundational for subsequent migrations and community progress.

Conclusion: Public Memory’s Construction

Walton’s public memory, as a historical construction, arose out of specific historical circumstances. Given the time and place, Walton’s public memory fulfilled an essential function for the town’s residents in the mid-nineteenth century. Moreover, it was necessary that Walton’s public memory be conveyed through republican lenses. In this way, Walton’s public memory was more than a series of newspaper articles written over a twenty-five year period. Rather, it reinforced essential themes to which Waltonians could cling during turbulent social and political times.

Public memory, as John Bodnar asserts, is a body of beliefs and ideas about the past that helps a community understand its past, present, and by implication, its future. At its core, it does not involve specific political or economic structures. Rather, public memory involves fundamental issues about a community’s entire existence. It details a community’s organization, its power structures, and the very meaning of its past and present.  Public memory argues for a specific interpretation of the past, present, and future. Additionally, it acts as a bridge for local communities to connect their vernacular history to the official historical record. At its strongest, public memory draws from primary sources – oral histories, anecdotes, letters, and diaries.  Furthermore, public memory is not necessarily objective. More often than not, only one historical interpretation emerges as the “official” view.[xlv] By conceiving a past through public memory, nineteenth-century Walton attempted to interpret their present and point to their future.

Walton’s public memory did its “work” by grounding a community in a specific ideological tradition. It allowed Walton’s residents to situate themselves as part of a republican past and present and point to an equally strong republican future. Walton’s nineteenth-century historians did not construct this public memory solely for their contemporaries. By constructing a republican public memory, they guaranteed that future generations would also view Walton’s past through this prism. Moreover, Walton’s public memory bridged the gap between town and nation. It linked Walton’s founding to the larger American settlement project articulated by Turner and others.  By remaking society along the Delaware River in upstate New York, Waltonians believed they were furthering civilization’s cause. Finally, public memory “worked” by articulating a specific historical past. It painted the settlement as an arduous journey by downtrodden yet virtuous Americans. It pointed to Walton’s growth as a sign of its industrious and thrifty citizenry. Factual or not, Walton’s public memory represents the history that has been handed down since the nineteenth century.

Moreover, a republican society is always wary of its future. In order to maintain virtue, industry, and thrift at high levels, future generations had to be nurtured within a republican tradition. Walton’s public memory was constructed to help fulfill that mission. As the first generation began to pass away and society underwent significant social, political, and economic transformations, Walton’s nineteenth-century citizens needed to reconstruct their past. Not isolated to Walton, generational passings and socio-political dislocations spurred public memory construction throughout the United States via newspaper columns.[xlvi] The middle to late nineteenth century witnessed rapid transformation: initial settler generations passed away, the railroad linked once-isolated areas to the international economy, and the federal political crisis threatened the union itself. It is no wonder, therefore, that many communities sought a restatement of their founding’s republican characteristics.

Reverend Pattengill and his “Fifteen Questions,” therefore, fell within a specific historical context. Walton’s public memory was constructed within a larger political, social, and economic context. While Pattengill and his contemporaries did not have the advantage of historical analysis, they did sense that something in their society was changing. Twenty-three years after Pattengill issued his call for public memory, an anonymous author contributed apiece called “Walton Seventy Years Ago.” With a reverent tone and an eye to the future, this author wrote:

Walton in the past seventy years has undergone great changes – changes in population, in business, in wealth and manner of living, and general appearance of the place. But the change has not been less in its inhabitants.  The fathers, aged and middle-aged, where are they? Those that were then young, and looking forward with hope in the future, are now, if living, looking back, from the other end of the journey, upon a life past. And is the person now living who shall write the next seventy years of Walton’s history?[xlvii]

As if on cue, the newspaper histories end with this article. With a public memory firmly committed to written tradition, an era ended.  Pattengill’s call for public memory had come full circle by 1880. Those who constructed that public memory were now passing on themselves. In doing so, Walton’s public memory was constituted and its republican past, present, and future embedded in the town’s history.
Endnotes

[i] The Walton Blade, 27 January 1857.
[ii] Ibid.
[iii] Shirley Houck, ed., The Evolution of Delaware County, New York: Being a History of its Land (Nashville: Express Media Corporation, 1995), 21.
[iv] Arthur W. North, The Founders and the Founding of Walton, New York: Being an Intimate Historical Sketch of the Marking of an American Settlement in the Critical Period Immediately Preceding the Adoption of the Federal Constitution  (Bainbridge: RSG Publishing, org., 1924, reprinted 1996), 20-26.
[v] Thomas Slaughter in The Whiskey Rebellion: Frontier Epilogue to the American Revolution discusses westward expansion’s political and social implications. In a neo-colonial environment, many frontier settlements were founded outside of the federal or state government’s direct control. Slaughter outlines how frontier communities found interests outside those of the federal government’s. Although Walton did not experience such strife, its settlement belongs in this frontier expansion tradition and literature.
[vi] Richard Vetterli and Gary Bryner, In Search of the Republic: Public Virtue and the Roots of American Government, 2nd edition.  (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc, 1996), pp. 74-77.
[vii] Harry Watson, Liberty and Power:  The Politics of Jacksonian America  (New York: Hill and Wang, 1990), pp. 46-48.
[viii] Melvin Yazawa, “Creating a Republican Citizenry,” in The American Revolution: Its Character and Limits, ed. Jack Greene (New York: New York University Press, 1987), 296-297.
[ix] Joyce Appleby, in Liberalism and Republicanism in the Historical Imagination, discusses how and why communities used Republican ideology in historical memory.  Appleby maintains that Republicanism, as an ideology, has had “two careers.”  Walton’s public memory was constructed during these ideas’ first career when it was used as a “chaster set of truths about the fragility of civil order and the ferocity of uncivil passions (278).”  Walton’s nineteenth-century newspaper historians fit into Republicanism’s first career.  Faced with an increasingly-fragile civic order, they were able to place Walton’s memory within a specific framework.  As the first generations of settlers passed away and the national political arena further fractured, Republicanism acted as societal glue.  Appleby’s discussion has broad implications for Walton’s public memory.
[x] The Walton Blade, 24 June 1857.
[xi] Ibid.
[xii] The Walton Chronicle, 13 July 1876.
[xiii] North, 24.
[xiv] The Walton Blade, 22 July 1857.
[xv] The Walton Weekly Chronicle, 13 October 1869.
[xvi] The Walton Weekly Chronicle, 9 February 1870.
[xvii] The Walton Chronicle, 13 July 1876.
[xviii] The Walton Weekly Chronicle, 12 January 1870.
[xix] The Walton Chronicle, 11 July 1878.
[xx] Ibid.
[xxi] Ibid.
[xxii] North, 110.
[xxiii] The Walton Blade, 1 July 1857.
[xxiv] The Walton Journal, 12 August 1857.
[xxv] The Walton Chronicle, 9 March 1870.
[xxvi] The Walton Blade, 29 July 1857.
[xxvii] Frederick Jackson Turner’s “The Significance of the Frontier in American History” heavily influences this interpretation.  Turner posits that man and the wilderness share a dialectical relationship: both conquer each other through cultural negotiation.  Once man conquers the wilderness, he [she] shapes the landscape to fit necessary political and social conditions.  “Civilization,” according to constructed public memory, belongs in the Turnerian tradition.  Walton’s original settlers were first shaped by the wilderness: they lived in tents, planted rude gardens, and foraged for their food.  Eventually, however, they built houses, established roads, and formed a social community.  Turner, along with Walton’s nineteenth century newspaper historians, sees this “civilizing project” in the same light.  As America expanded westward, including Walton’s settlement, this cultural negotiation began anew and “civilization” was remade again.
[xxviii] The Walton Blade, 12 August 1857
[xxix] T. Marvin, The Walton Chronicle, 6 January 1876.
[xxx] Ibid.
[xxxi] T. Marvin, The Walton Chronicle, 10 February 1876 through 16 March 1876.
[xxxii] The Walton Chronicle, 25 March 1875.
[xxxiii] Ibid.
[xxxiv] The Walton Weekly Chronicle, 16 May 1872.
[xxxv] The Walton Blade, 23 September 1857.
[xxxvi] The Walton Chronicle, 25 March 1875.
[xxxvii] Ibid.
[xxxviii] “1800 Federal Census, Delaware Col, NY” available at http://www.dcnyhistory.org/1800cens.html#wal/
[xxxix] The Walton Chronicle, 25 March 1875.
[xl] The Walton Chronicle, 1 April 1875.
[xli] The Walton Chronicle, 8 April 1875, 15 April 1875.
[xlii] The Walton Chronicle, 15 April 1875.
[xliii] The Walton Chronicle, 8 April 1875.
[xliv] The Walton Chronicle, 15 April 1875.
[xlv] John Bodnar, Remarking America:  Public Memory, Commemoration, and Patriotism in the Twentieth Century  (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992), 14-16.
[xlvi] John Mack Faragher, Sugar Creek: Life on the Illinois Prairie (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), pp. 218-219.
[xlvii] The Walton Chronicle, 22 August 1880.

Larry Dake was raised in Walton, NY and is currently an educational administrator in Vestal, NY.  He graduated from Walton High School in 1998, King's College (PA) with degrees in History and Theology, and earned an M.A. in History from Binghamton University in 2004. In addition, he is a doctoral student in Binghamton University's Educational Theory and Practice program. He currently lives in Endwell with his wife, Kelly, and their two young children.