Again, Hello Again My Neglected Blog
Wednesday, June 10th, 2009
Above is a picture of the West Wall of what was once the largest walled prison on the planet: Michigan’s First State Prison (1837-1935). Today it is a residential artists’ community. I live here in a loft apartment created from over 30 prison cells. This is my backyard!
I have received some interesting comments in response to my few and far between writings on this blog. I am still learning the navigations of Internet life. I thought I selected the comments printable, but I am not sure I have done so correctly. Trial and error will bring me there — I hope.
I was writing about this old prison in which I now live. I am passionate about its history, its architecture, the friends I have made here. I give guided tours that last about two hours, for people have so many questions and often their own stories to tell about grandfathers who were guards in the towers here, one whose great-grandfather was a warden.
It is obvious that this was a prison, for there are bars left on many of the windows, the floor is the original concrete one, there are bars on the artists’ studios windows, and the one-story apartments have the arches in the ceilings that used to each individually be the ceiling of the narrow cells. Going downstairs to the old solitary cells can be somewhat eerie. Vibes just don’t entirely disappear. It is as though the walls are still speaking. Yet this prison has been made into a livable one with apartments created from former prison cells and the Gallery, now a grand room that used to house four levels of cell blocks. However, it is not like Alcatraz or some other old prisons that remain looking as they did minus the inmates.
I sometimes wonder, as I get a phone call from an “old prison buff” what they will think of my tour, chock full of fascinating stories of life behind these walls and inmates with names like Hannibal the Bear and Silver Jack Driscoll, John Blood and “The Crow.” The latter was never found out, just called that. As finally the inamtes settled into sleep, lights out, and the guards could take sighs of relief, “The Crow” would awaken and do just that — crow and crow and crow! His perfect imitation of the bird would resound, echoing through the entire West End cell blocks. The guards knew the sound came from either the second or third tier. However, due to the intense echoes, they could not pinpoint the exact landing or cell. “The Crow” was apparently here for years, and the staff often changed during that time. No one ever knew who he was. Perhaps, somewhere in the world beyond, his “caws” have turned to laughter at the magnificent trick he played in spite of his lack of freedom behind bars.
It is stories like these that compensate, I suppose, for the lack of total prison look that those “old prison buffs” are drawn to. I have been brave enough to ask, “How does this tour compare to the others you have taken?” So far, they all answer that this tour is the most unique, filled with more history and stories. They are amazed at how much the building still rings of its old prison past in ambience and at the same time, has been converted into a resident artists’ community so cleverly.
”I would absolutely love to live here,”said a visitor from California. No carpets and chandeliers, for sure, but what utter grandeur there is in being surrounded by such history!”