Lorton, VA, my home, is known only for the reformatory it formerly housed. “The prison was in such a state of disrepair that it became representative of the nation’s difficulties with correctional facilities.” Google searches consist primarily of pictures of the Lorton Reformatory, and not much else. To an outsider, this is the story they know:

 

From its grand opening in 1910, to its long overdue shut down in 2001, the Lorton Reformatory was established with high hopes of reforming correctional facilities across America. Where else should innovating prison life begin than at District of Columbia’s home for its most threatening prisoners?

 

President Theodore Roosevelt chose the sleepy city of Lorton as an ideal place to begin the reform project. At the time, there were many Progressive advocates who wanted to experiment with community service as a way to restore those who were off the beaten path of society. President Roosevelt insisted that this prison be built to rejoin these people as members of society. Everyone had hoped that they’d gain skills and learn trades to become a functional member upon release.

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The prison itself was built by the inmates with bricks made on-site. The workhouse was complete with dormitories, a mess hall, administrative buildings, a women’s center, and extensive agricultural operations (fields, pastures, a poultry farm, hog ranch, slaughterhouse, blacksmith shop, sawmill, storage barns, etc.). As the workhouse continued to grow, it became an agricultural work camp. But, good intentions pave the road to H-E-Double hockey stick.

 

In 1917, suffragettes had become very active in DC. One group, the Silent Sentinels, led by Alice Paul and Lucy Burns, were big advocates for the National Women’s Party and protested in front of the White House during Woodrow Wilson’s presidency. This particularly aggravated Wilson, and 32 members were sent to the Lorton Reformatory for 30 days. Sinister events occurred during their time there. Upon arrival at the Occoquan facility, Lorton Reformatory’s nearby cousin for the “ill-minded,” Alice Paul went on a hunger strike to advocate for Women's suffrage. She was force fed through a tube shoved down her throat, and all Sentinel members were stripped, beaten, and abused nightly. If the prisoners didn't get to them first, the guards picked up the slack. These events coined the phrase “Night of Terror.”

 

The Federal Youth Corrections Act of 1950 encouraged the Reformatory to build a Youth Center for those aged 18-22. It was designed to resemble a college campus, and intended to teach young men trades they could utilize as they re-entered society at the end of their sentence. Its buildings had no bars or fences, open dorm rooms, arched walk-ways, and courtyards for its members. These young, mild offenders were meant to be kept from the harder adult criminals, but the adults took advantage of the Youth Center's open layout. They mixed people who were convicted with multiple murders and those charged with simple drug possession. This particular flaw cost them - at one point, this place was known as the murder capital of Lorton.

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As the years drudged on, the civilians living in the periphery were eagerly awaiting its close as more dangerous prisoners were sent to the facility, and prison breaks had become more frequent. In 1997 it was announced that due to new regulations, which Lorton had failed miserably to meet, the prison would be disbanded. “In fact, the prison was in such a state of disrepair that it became representative of the nation’s difficulties with correctional facilities,” states Workhouse Arts Center historian. In 2001 the last prisoners were moved to facilities around the U.S. Immediately after the facility was shut down, Fairfax County took control of the 2,300 acres of land and made plans for construction.

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Currently, in our little city of Lorton, we have one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school, and... the prison. We have one restaurant, a convenience store, and a few small places to grab a quick bite. Within this small community, our claim to fame is the Reformatory. We use the land for running paths, bike trails, community gatherings, baseball games, and golf. Every Sunday there is a farmer’s market inside that many of us get produce from. While we adore the prison grounds, most outsiders don't see the community we've grown into. We're dandelions growing in cracks of cement - some see a weed growing where it shouldn't and others a flower growing in impossible conditions.

 

My favorite memory of the prison is riding my bike down a back road that hasn’t seen cars in almost 2 decades. Hundreds of tree tops enclosed the road, and the breeze rushed through the leaves making an overwhelming sound when I'd barreled down the drive. To the left, tall golden grass flew past making a sea of yellow. To the right was a little pond with a small wooden dock, which I’m almost positive must've been built by the prisoners at some point. This drive was long and smooth, no bumps or distractions making it either a peaceful cruise or the perfect opportunity to have chicken races with your friends.

 

Before I left for college I tried to visit that road one last time, as I knew the prison grounds would look completely different by the time I came back to visit home. It was too late. The little opening in the trees that we use to slink through had be torn down to make way for the work vehicles. The river running alongside the drive was dirty and blocked by the construction efforts to expand the roads. Most of all, a vast majority of trees were gone. That broke my heart – I hate seeing stumps.

 

Only time will tell what Fairfax County has in store for our city. It is interesting to see our community mourn the loss of a prison, with a history as grim as its. Even still, we’d prefer to keep it the way it was. Outsiders assume we are embarrassed about the proximity of the prison to our houses, our schools, and well, our lives. They don't see the rich American history represented through almost a century of stories told on its walls. They certainly don't see how much we love this prison. It may be grim, but the community it is home to is vibrant.

Trying to erase it is a slap in the face to the pride we hold for it.

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October 5, 2016

Lauren Haacke