The Jail That Wasn't: A Tour of Port Madison’s Fortress
While Seattle’s own jails were often little more than wooden rooms with locks, the new facility on Port Madison was built like a fortress—iron spikes, windlass doors, and a view of the sound. But its warden faces a grim reality: no work for his prisoners.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
KITSAP COUNTY JAIL.—While at Port Madison, on Thursday last, we visited the jail, and were much pleased with the structure and its management. It is a block house with the timbers and floors all secured by iron spikes so close together as to make it impossible for any prisoner to break jail by any of the appliances which they can procure. The only entrance to the prison is from the upper story, which is occupied by the Sheriff and his assistants, through an iron door of immense weight, which can only be raised by a windlass. This opens upon wide stairs leading to the main room of the house, from which a corridor passes round the cells next to the outer wall. The whole is well lighted and ventilated, and kept in a most perfect state of neatness and order.
In this prison are kept the Territorial convicts, and prisoners held for trial for grave offences for the counties of King, Kitsap and Snohomish, it being the only jail in the three counties fit to keep prisoners in. The Sheriff is authorized to work the prisoners, but very little profitable employment can be procured in the immediate vicinity, only isolated jobs being offered, where it would be necessary to have a keeper for each prisoner.
A jail yard is very much needed, but the County Commissioners refuse to incur any further expense for improvement, the benefits of which are enjoyed in common with two other counties, both of which are much better able to pay.
We found Peter Delaney, under ten months' sentence for murder in the second degree, engaged in making garden fence, and David Hughes driving a team in hauling logs for the mill company, in charge of a special deputy. Much credit is due to Mr. Theodore O. Williams, the sheriff, for the extraordinary good management of this institution.
This 1879 report highlights an early infrastructure struggle: the disconnect between building secure facilities and funding their operation. Today, King County still grapples with jail overcrowding and the high cost of incarceration versus rehabilitation. The article’s complaint about 'isolated jobs' for prisoners mirrors modern debates on prison labor and reentry programs.
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