In the spring of 1935, Aggie Underwood wrote a three part series of articles for the Herald-Express on the women incarcerated in Tehacahpi. People have always been fascinated by the exploits of bad girls.
There’s been a rise in the number of women committing violent felonies in recent years, but for many decades women behaving that badly were an anomaly. Alienists (psychiatrists) and penologists had various theories on the reasons why a woman might commit a crime as heinous as murder.
In 1924, Sigmund Freud suggested that menstruation reminded women of their inferiority and inflamed them toward revenge!
Frankly, Freud’s comment inflames me and if he wasn’t already long dead…
Whether a woman killed because she was in a homicidal PMS rage or not, there was an ongoing debate on the punishment of women. Historically women have, quite literally, gotten away with murder.
In his 1931 criminology course, Dr. Paul E. Bowers seemed saddened by the fact that so few deserving women were executed. He said:
“We hate to send a woman to the penitentiary; we hate to electrocute or hang women. We think its the wrong thing to do. We have to admire Al Smith, when Ruth Snyder was convicted of killing the husband of this other woman. Al Smith didn’t given her a reprieve and allowed her to go to her electrocution, as she should have gone. Many women have been convicted of murder, but it is only very rarely that women are hung or electrocuted for committing murder.”
Dr. Bowers was a little confused about the facts of the case. Ruth Snyder and her lover, Judd Gray, were convicted and executed for the murder of her husband; but Bowers was not at all confused about his opinion regarding female murderers — execute them!
Below is the first part of Aggie Underwood’s series on the lives of the forgotten women of Tehachapi just as it appeared in newspapers in 1935.
Tehachapi, Cal., Apr. 30 —
Nestled in a range of snow covered mountains, eight and one-half miles from the nearest town, is California’s home for forgotten women.
Here are Clara Phillips, the celebrated “Hammer Murderer”; Louie Peete, Nellie Madison, Josephine Valenti, Anna De Ritas, Burmah White and 140 others who ignored man-made laws and are spending long, long years in a miniature city of their own.
Ruller of this city surrounded by a high wire fence, is Miss Josephine Jackson, deputy warden, who works directly under orders from the head of the state prison at San Quentin, Warden James B. Holohan.
For 18 years she has been employed in California prisons, and for 18 years she has been caring for women whom the state has tagged “bad” and sent away to do penance behind prison walls.
Miss Jackson moved the first group of girls from San Quentin into Tehachapi in August, 1933, and by November of the same year all of the inmates of the state prison had been transferred.
Life runs smoothly, and quietly, as the days go by with the only break in a monotonous existence being an occasional visit by some unexpected outsider.
The buildings which comprise the prison group, are in an administration building, detention building and two cottages.
All work in the prison is volunteer–none compulsory and each inmate is given an opportunity to do the work she likes best.
Many of them prefer garden work, many laundry, many cooking and table serving, man secretarial and ome even beauty work.
There is no official chef at the state institution and the inmates have proven themselves splendid cooks even to the extent of making all of the bread that is used by the inmates
Six a.m. is regulation “get-up” time; 9 p.m. lights out.
Work on the various necessary duties is started immediately after breakfast and groups may be een leaving the various buildings in which they are house for the rabbitry, the chicken yard, the barn yard where there are several cow to be milked.
And, as groups gather around electric washing machines, or in the yard planting trees, or in the chicken yard, tending the fowls, loud shouts of laughter may be heard ringing through the echoing mountainous section.
No supervisor stands over these 145 women to drive them to their tasks. No one waits around to scold or correct them. They are on an honor system to do their best, work in their best manner, and according to Miss Jackson, this system succeeds remarkably.
Each building has a nicely furnished recreation room where the girls gather when their daily tasks are completed, to play cards, checkers, sew or play the piano. But, because the architects failed to provide for an auditorium, there are no picture shows because there is no room large enough to seat all the inmates.
Just as Sing Sing, the famous eastern prison for men has its outstanding football team, so does Tehachapi have its baseball team.
In fact, two teams have been organized, Joephine Valenti, who gains prominence in Los Angeles when she was convicted of burning her small baby to death, is captain of one team and Pauline Walker, a colored girl, is captain of the second team.
The play every Sunday, with all of the inmate gathering on the sidelines to do the rooting.
At preent the field isn’t much good, but the girls are gradually doing their own work and making a real diamond.
They have made their own uniforms–white bloues and black bloomers with red stripes down the sides, and, according to Miss Jackson, they welcome the opportunity to don these costumes and break the monotony of every day life.
Each goes on in the same fashion, light tasks, few laughs–a drab life, for the 145 women who must pay for their trangresoins of the law. yet Tehachapi represents notable changes in the American penal system and is being studied as a model.
NEXT TIME: Agness Underwood’s series on the “city of forgotten women” continues.