The cells that speak

Heather Ainsley
ECB Publishing, Inc.

It is no secret that Monticello is a town steeped in a rich historical background. Even in today's modern world, we see huge relics that have withstood the test of time, preserving the legacy and stories that make up the foundation of our city. Some of these relics, like the impressive Monticello Opera House, stand in the center of town, historical monuments that become local icons and popular landmarks over the years. Other relics remain in the background, hidden in plain sight, unused and unnoticed by many, quietly harboring a dark, yet potent, local history. One of such relics is the building located at 380 West Dogwood St. in Monticello; the site of the Old Monticello Jail.
The building itself is a bit of a local mystery; nobody knows exactly when it was built, just that it was not shown on any city maps dated back to 1885, but was, however, mentioned 23 years later during a dedication to the new Courthouse that was built in 1908, suggesting that the original facility was built between those two dates.
The absence of these records is likely due to a fire that took place in the original building, burning it to the ground. In spring of 1909, construction of the new Jefferson County Jail began, and the final touches on the new facility were completed by December of that same year. The new building stood two stories tall, with the inclusion of a third level, a basement floor, lying underneath the main part of the building.
Today, the basement level serves as storage, and the east end of the building, which used to serve as the city's election office as well as the city's 911 dispatch office, is the current home of the Jefferson County Homeschool Association. The remainder of the building has been left largely untouched, the realities of the events and living conditions that existed within its walls preserved since its retirement, providing modern visitors a unique window into some dark elements of Monticello's past.
A few steps into the building lead to a small office. Immediately to the left of the entrance, a small closet-type space can be seen. The space is made completely of cement and thick metal, including the door, which features a study metal latch to secure it shut. A small sign on the outside of the closet space reads “Booking Room.” This area was where individuals who were arrested waited to be booked into the jail.
After being booked in, the inmates were led up a metal staircase. Today, the metal of these stairs are worn down from the hundreds of feet that once climbed those steps over the years. At the top of the stairs sits a room full of echoes.
The cell block is made of concrete and iron bars, with several cells in the center dividing the space. White prisoners were kept in one portion of the room, with a side room with additional cells provided for black prisoners, as the end of segregation would not take place until the mid 1960s. Each cell featured four metal bed bunks installed into the walls. In the middle of each cell there stands a single toilet, perhaps a foot from the edge of each bottom bunk. There is hardly enough room for four grown men to stand altogether in the cell at the same time. Some cells bear the tell-tale marks of vandalism as inmates carved messages and names with dates into the metal or paint during their incarceration. One inscription bears the name “Dock Foskey B+E” with the date 1.26.68. Another simply reads “Mike Dan,” with no date. Another inscription reads “The Moose 2/23/71 Spare Me” along with accompanying profanity.
The cells are set up in the center of the large room, with a hallway that wraps around the cells, outlooking the barred windows. Along this hall, inmates were sometimes permitted to stretch their legs or look at the sky through the bars on the windows. Along these walls were more inscriptions: countless inmates over the years wrote their names, poems, prayers, obscenities and even kept calendars counting down to their own freedom or court dates. Among the many names scratched immortalized on the walls is the name “Ray Charles.”
World-renowned musician, Ray Charles, is known to have lived in Greenville, Fla, which is considered his hometown. Before his rise to fame, it is also known that Charles struggled with drug addiction, and was even arrested several times for his drug use in other states before seeking treatment and overcoming his addiction. So while there are no concrete records of Ray Charles being arrested and booked into the old Jefferson County Jail, and his name could have been written by someone else who was incarcerated there, it isn't completely unfeasible either that the musical legend spent some time in the Monticello Jail while he was still struggling with his addiction.
Inmates being allowed into the halls of the cell block to stretch their legs was considered a privilege, not given to inmates who were in for violent crimes. Violent offenders were kept in cells toward the front of the cell block. These cells remained locked, with a narrow opening in the door for sliding a food tray into and out of the cell. Metal, closet-sized rooms were used for individual showers, and small sinks offered inmates the ability to wash up or shave.
A small, separate building around back housed the female inmates, who were not given individual cells but were housed in one singular concrete room. The lack of cells was contributed to the idea that women would be less likely to be violent to other inmates while incarcerated. An upstairs level of the women's jail building offered solitary confinement or additional jail space, as needed.
While living arrangements weren't up to par with current ethical procedures in jail and prison environments, that isn't the only thing that has changed since the Old Jail (as it is called) was in operation. In the downstairs portion of the main jail building, there are bedrooms, closet spaces, a kitchen and living area that were home to none other than the sheriff and his own family.
While today's sheriffs and deputies try to keep a fair, safe distance between their families and the people they arrest, back then, there was hardly such a separation. In fact, the sheriff's wife cooked meals for all of the inmates. The last family to live in the Old Jail while it was in function lived there in the 1960s, and it has been said that, not only did the wife prepare all of the food for the prisoners, but that the young daughters who lived there served these meals to them. While it seems unthinkable today, it was just another part of life in the 20th century.
The Old Jail now stands empty, the echos of prisoners whispering through the silent cell block, the last messages of inmates immortalized in fading ink on the partitions, preserved only until the last flakes of paint peel away at last from the lonely walls. For years, the City of Monticello has recognized the echoes of memory that remain there, even adding the jailhouse to a seasonal ghost tour intended for tourists. There are places that hold memories and echoes of history, and the Old Jail, while still vacant, is full to the brim.