A Place for Hard Time Finally Runs Out of It

One of the toughest places a man could do time has become a victim of it.

Joliet Correctional Center, one of the oldest prisons in the nation, was deemed obsolete and a ripe target for the governor’s efforts to cut the state budget.

So Joliet, whose massive limestone walls have housed such infamous criminals as George “Baby Face” Nelson, will be closed early next year.

Once it was among the largest prisons in the country, but Joliet’s permanent population has shrunk to about 200, and for decades it has served mainly as the state prison system’s intake valve. Most prisoners stay about 10 days now, long enough to be processed and sent to another prison.

With a new facility to handle that chore being built across the river at Stateville Correctional Center, Joliet and its annual $4-million budget stood out when Gov. George Ryan was looking for places to cut spending.

That’s good news in a community where civic boosters have worked hard to portray Joliet as something other than a prison town.

But for others it signals the end of something.

“As a prison, I really believe Joliet has always been the crown jewel of this department, said Warden Ron Matrisciano. “I think Joliet is synonymous with the penal system.”

It also is a part of Illinois history, the setting for movies as distinct as “The Blues Brothers” and “Natural Born Killers.”

The fortress-like structure--whose walls stand five feet thick and as much as 40 feet high--was designed by William Boyington, who also designed the Chicago Water Tower and the state Capitol in Springfield.

The structure itself is a kind of monument to a time when prisoners were treated far differently than they are today. Construction, which began when floggings were still acceptable, was the job of inmates at Alton, the state’s only prison at the time.

Brought in 1858 to live in what is now the segregation unit, the state inmates broke chunks of limestone at a nearby quarry and built the prison around them.

Joliet gained a reputation as a tough place to serve time. It lagged other prisons by decades in building dining halls and allowing outdoor exercise, said Mara Dodge, a historian at Westfield State College in Massachusetts who once taught at Joliet.

Into the early 1900s, prisoners did not have running water or toilets in their cells, Dodge said. “The stench was overwhelming,” she said.

Over the years, Joliet was the site of penal reform programs that have been copied at prisons around the country.

Joliet trained its inmates for jobs they could perform once they got out of prison. It had local contracts to operate a host of businesses, making everything from shoes to cigars, beginning in the 1870s.

Ryan’s decision was met with sadness but also with some understanding. “In any industry, better ways are developed to do things,” Matrisciano said.

“I understand why they are doing it, but it’s still sad for me,” said Samantha Franklin, a clinical services supervisor at the prison and as close to the place’s historian as anyone.

Phil LaPointe doesn’t like the idea of moving, either. Convicted of murder in the late 1970s, LaPointe has spent most of his time behind bars--about 17 years--at Joliet.

“No, I don’t want to go,” he said. “The smaller population here is conducive to a more friendly [relationship] between inmates and staff. They treat you like an individual.”

What happens now is anyone’s guess. There is talk that Will County could use it to jail its own inmates.

“I’ve heard everything,” said Sergio Molina, spokesman for the Department of Corrections, “even a bed and breakfast.”