Side Dish: Museum of Colorado Prisons 7/16/11

Canon City, Colorado is known for two things: the Royal Gorge and prisons. If you've lived in the Centennial State for any length of time, you've likely encountered someone who speaks of visiting an unfortunate friend or family member at the joint, or perhaps you've done a little stretch yourself. In that sense, it's a company town, where the chain restaurants and fleabag motels are dwarfed only by the prevailing attitude that cracking down on crime is a good thing. The more saps who break the law, from murder to armed robbery, the better it is for the locals. Given this love affair with locking people up and throwing away the key, it's only natural that this little town in the southern half of the state feature the Museum of Colorado Prisons; an ode to the Big House, yes, but also one hell of a good time. Never has human suffering been so delightful.

For a mere $7 per person, one can experience the bright side of jail, the one without riots, rape, bad food, and deafening noise. Even before one enters the museum, the fun begins immediately with an actual "front lawn" gas chamber. One can walk in, snap humorous photos, and forget that suffocating on cyanide vapors is one grisly way to die. No matter, as this is Americana, and if you're here, you're not about to play any violins for the criminal type. After the yucks have subsided, walk in the front door, pay your dues, and choose between an audio or self-guided tour. We selected the latter, if only because the handbook was fairly detailed, and we wanted to poke around at our own pace. First off, it's interesting to note that the current attraction was once the Colorado Women's Correctional Institution from 1935 to 1968. At its peak, 30-45 female inmates were stored here like so much cordwood; that is, if we are to believe the cells are an accurate reflection of the past. I'm sure the reality was far worse.

The museum opened for business on June 13, 1988, receiving almost all of its funding from donations, fundraisers, and admission fees. The guide book also tells us that the museum is unique in that "it was the first prison museum located adjacent to an active prison." It's an important fact, as such a museum can only make sense in the context of the town itself, where criminality is how everyone makes their living, for good or bad. As said, the self-guided tour is choking with great history and colorful tales of woe. For example, who knew that seven correctional officers were killed in a brutal 1929 riot? There's a memorial to their sacrifice, though its impact is somewhat lessened by the kitschy mannequins and tabloid headlines dotting the walls. Each cell lining the main hall is a diorama of sorts, where a particular theme is addressed with plaques, displays, and replications, and it's fair to say that they're all quite fascinating. From gang violence to a laundry list of Colorado's executions, it runs the gamut with clinical, albeit goofy, detachment.

Admittedly, there's a curious deference to Colorado's past prison wardens, and a few too many examples of prison's "bright side", from musical instruments to toys crafted by the prisoners themselves. It's important to note that prison isn't all lesbian guards pistol-whipping convicts and the like, but the guiding principle of incarceration lies in a wall display conveniently tucked in the far corner of the hall. On it, we learn that prisoners who were caught engaging in homosexual activity were once forced to wear a dress and push carts filled with heavy rocks. I'm fairly certain that was only the first day's humiliation. Another telling display was near the end, where we learn that Woodpecker Hill, the part of Pioneer Cemetery in Canon City where expired prisoners were laid to rest, was teeming with the truly unwanted. In fact, over 600 inmates were buried without ever having been claimed by family or loved ones. It's a sad end to the tour, but not so depressing that one can't be cheered up by another mannequin.

With all the standard, dry, stuffed-animal variety of museum, it's encouraging that we can also pay tribute to the darker side of life. The odd and the creepy also have a place in our cultural landscape, and how else are we to see the showers, kitchens, and paper-thin mattresses that once surrounded our homegrown law-breakers? History is more than heroism, and with America leading the world in sending its citizens to jail, why not a place where it all hits home? Additionally, why not a gift shop to wrap it all up, where a tourist can pay $45 for a gen-u-ine jailbird carving? Or, if your wallet's a bit light, perhaps a replica license plate, like the ones actually made on the premises so many years ago? No, I'll stay focused on that one cell's display where I learned that at one point, an 11-year-old sat in a Colorado prison for murdering his sister, who, at the time, was wrapping Christmas gifts. It's a bit of nasty truth amidst the gawking that keeps us grounded, that is, until the cashier at the front interrupts your reflection to ask if you can make that night's ghost tour. If only we could.