Upon my arrival, I received a haircut. I was 19. Actually, my head was practically shaved; "for sanitation purposes," the officials said. In 1968, every newcomer received this haircut, but no longer in the present day. The mandated "bald head" is now defunct.

I was then given a shower. The other newcomers were showered, too. We were given a three minute shower. I heard the guard's dictum: "soap off!" Immediately, the guard turned off the shower. Most of the newcomers stood there still soaped-up.

The guard's viciousness didn't catch me, though. I'd previously heard about this prank.

I was then locked in a cell. To my astonishment, it had no sink. Actually, my "sink" was a metal pail. It was draped over a length of pipe. The pipe came out of the stone wall. It had an outdoor-type faucet on it. It was the kind you screw a garden hose onto. The pail hung from that faucet. It dangled over the toilet.

My cell had a dank odor particularly near the toilet. I tried the water faucet. A brown liquid appeared. My thoughts became paranoid. "How can I drink this? I'd be certain to contract dysentery! Why doesn't everyone in here have dysentery? Any disease could possibly evolve!"

After six weeks I was given employment. I received a job in the kitchen. I went to work at 4:20 AM. I really disliked my meat-cutting job, but every day I drudged at the work. The place was filthy.

In the kitchen, I became acquainted with Jake, a coworker. He'd been there for 16 years. At the time I thought that was an awful long imprisonment. Jake saved most of his meager salary. He loved his wife very much. He saved his money as her dower. 

The prison was condemned in 1970. The Pennsylvania Board of Health closed it.