Don’t misconstrue the facts; I am not a masochist. That being said, one of my favorite and, needless to say, most memorable vacation destinations has been the West Virginia Penitentiary, located in Moundsville, West Virginia.
Everything about this building is cold. The Gothic, citadel-styled structure of the prison casts a shadow so large that it cloaks the entire property. The stone façade is so menacing that the building appears impenetrable from the outside. Gun mounts visible on the turrets, pointing outward instead of inward, cause a chill to run down your spine. So much as looking at the prison will cause you to quiver and hastily back away. Yet, on that August 2006 day, I could not wait to enter.
The Penitentiary is stuck in a moment in time. A moment when high-security inmates, that lovingly termed themselves “The Alamo,” inhabited the halls. A moment when prison guards dodged fecal matter being thrown at them as they patrolled the cells of criminals. A moment when the flip of a switch would determine whether or not you went home a killer that day. A moment when riots, fires, fights, and escapes threaten your life on a daily basis. A moment when a “high-security” prison was not too secure at all.
A tour of this now-historic-landmark is sickening and intriguing. I was disgusted when shown the electric chair, but felt compelled by the history behind it. I mean, honestly, who wouldn’t find it interesting that the chair was actually designed by an inmate? Doesn’t it cause you to wonder how that individual’s popularity must have gone downhill, and fast?
The West Virginia Penitentiary was something I had never experienced before (and not something I would necessarily like to repeat), yet it caused me to think. And the primary thought running across my mind was, “I will NEVER commit a crime. I’d be too terrified of the repercussions.”
Photo from: www.marshallcountrytourism.com/wvpen-1.jpg
