This
date, December 31, was the supposed to be the official closing of the Ohio
State Reformatory in 1986 but somehow, the ramshackle structure hung on until
1990. Better known to people today as the Mansfield Reformatory, the gloomy,
gothic structure looms on the outskirts of a small Ohio town. Designed as a
prison for criminals who were too old for the Boys Industrial School in
Lancaster and not hardened enough for the Ohio Penitentiary in Columbus, the
reformatory saw untold thousands of prisoners during its years of operations.
Once applauded as a place that could humanely reform first-time offenders, the
conditions deteriorated to the point that it became known more for abuse,
torture and murder than for its early successes.
It’s
been closed down now for many years, but those who cross the threshold of this
place today can assure you that the prison is far from empty.
The
campaign to build a prison in Mansfield began during the years of the Civil War
but it was not until 1884 that the state legislature actually approved the
creation of a prison that would serve as an “intermediate” place of
incarceration for Ohio lawbreakers. Using land that had served as one of
Mansfield’s two Civil War camps, the city raised $10,000 to purchase the land
and the state acquired the more than 150 acres that adjoined it. The
cornerstone of the prison was placed on November 4, 1886 and marked a day of
great celebration in the city. A crowd of more than 15,000 turned out for the
event and it featured a parade that started in Mansfield, which was decorated
with flags and bunting, and ended at the new building site. A number of
dignitaries were present for the celebration, including former President
Rutherford B. Hayes, Senator John Sherman, Governor J.B. Foraker and General
Roeliff Brinkerhoff, the man who led the drive to have a prison built in
Mansfield. Cleveland architect Levi T. Scofield was hired to design the
reformatory, which was expected to cost about $1.3 million to build. According
to reports, he based his design on sketches of castles in Germany.
Numerous
funding problems in the years that followed caused so many delays that the
reformatory was not able to accept its first group of inmates until 1896, a
full ten years after work at the site began. The prison officially opened on
September 17 when 150 inmates were transferred to the news facility from the
Ohio Penitentiary. The transfer drew almost as much attention as the original
groundbreaking did. Large crowds turned out in Columbus to watch the inmates,
dressed in prison stripes, march from the penitentiary to the train station.
The prisoners, entertained by the attention, waved and made jokes to the crowds
as they passed. Men along the route even passed out cigars to the inmates as
they walked by them. The train was greeted by another large crowd when it
stopped in Galion, before continuing on to Mansfield. People in town cheered as
the men were unloaded at the northwest corner of the reformatory and were taken
directly to their cells. The inmates were immediately set to work. The
reformatory was still far from finished and the convicts were used to complete
the sewer system and other parts of the structure. Construction was not fully
completed until 1910.
An
early photo of the Ohio State Reformatory
Because
the reformatory was an intermediate prison, designed for young offenders, it
had few famous inmates during its history. At least one of them went on to
great notoriety, however, proving that reform was not always possible with some
offenders. The most famous former inmate was Henry Baker, one of the men
convicted of pulling off the famous Brink’s heist in 1950.
Some
of the inmates at Mansfield didn’t just commit crimes to get into prison, or
after they got out. Some of them actually carried on criminals operations while
they were still incarcerated. On August 21, 1921, two reformatory inmates, King
Williams, age 18, and John Kmetz, age 17, were charged with carrying on a
counterfeiting operation while behind bars. The plot came to the attention of
the U.S. Secret Service from the superintendent of the reformatory, who acted
on a tip from a trusty. The two young men had apparently been creating
counterfeit bills and passing them to reformatory guards, who circulated them
throughout the area. Assistant Superintendent Rowe had actually caught Williams
in the act, putting the finishing touches on a bogus $5 bill. Williams and
Kmetz were paroled in late 1921 and were immediately re-arrested by federal
authorities, who charged them with counterfeiting.
But
darker crimes have occurred in the history of the reformatory, as well. Two
corrections officers have been murdered in the line of duty at the Ohio State
Reformatory. On November 2, 1926, a paroled inmate named Phillip Orleck
returned to the prison to try and help a friend escape. The attempt was
unsuccessful but in the course of it, Orleck shot a guard named Urban Wilford
outside the west gate. Wilford was killed and Orleck was arrested two months
later. He died in the electric chair at the Ohio State Penitentiary the
following year.
The
second officer was Frank Hanger, who died after being beaten with an iron bar.
Hanger tried to stop an escape attempt by a dozen prisoners in October 1932 and
paid for it with his life. Two inmates, Merrill Chandler and Chester Probaski,
were charged with the guard’s murder and were sent to the electric chair in
1935.
Perhaps
the darkest days in the history of the Ohio State Reformatory came with the
parole of two inmates, Robert Daniels and John West – who would forever be
immortalized in newspapers as the “Mad Dog Killers.” In the summer of 1948,
just days after being released from prison, the two young men went on a killing
spree that ended with seven people dead, including a guard at the reformatory
and his wife and daughter. They started the spree by killing a Columbus tavern
owner named Earl Ambrose on July 10, followed by Frank Frech, an elderly
tourist camp operator on July 11. After that, they drove straight to Mansfield
and the Ohio State Reformatory. Robert Daniels, interviewed after he was
captured stated that they had gone to the prison looking for a guard named
“Red” Harris, but when they didn’t found him, they went to the home of another
guard, John Niebel.
A
newspaper featuring the “Mad Dog Killers” and their “13-Day Reign of Terror”
Daniels
and West arrived at the Niebel home around 1:30 a.m. and knocked on the door.
When Niebel answered, they told him that their car had broken down and they
wanted to use the telephone. He let them inside, but did not recognize the two
men at first. It was not until Daniels pulled out a gun that Niebel realized
the horror that he had allowed into his home. While West held a gun on Niebel,
Daniels went upstairs forced Mrs. Nolana Niebel, and her 20-year-old daughter,
Phyllis, to come downstairs. The family was forced into a light-gray automobile
and was driven by Daniels and West through Mansfield, around Central Park, and
then out of town to Flemings Falls Road. As they traveled, Daniels forced the
Niebels to take off all of their clothes and throw them out the window.
Finally,
the car was stopped and the family was forced out into the lonely cornfield
that would become their death site. Daniels marched them through the knee-high
corn and then, forcing them to stand in a line next to one another, shot each
of them in the head with an old Mauser automatic.
Daniels
and West fled the scene and abandoned the car they were driving. A few hours
later, they were captured when they attempted to shoot it out with police and
sheriff’s deputies at a roadblock north of Van Wert. The blockade was set up as
part of what became one of the greatest manhunts in the state’s history. The
newspapers called the killing spree a “13-Day Reign of Terror.” The killers
claimed their last two victims just before they were caught, driving a stolen
truck that was being used to haul four brand-new automobiles. James J. Smith, a
newlywed farmer from Tiffin, was shot through the head when he refused to give
up his driver’s license. Less than an hour later, the body of another man,
Orville Taylor, a truck driver from Niles, Michigan, was found in a roadside
park near Tiffin. Taylor was believed to be the driver of the automobile truck
that the killers were driving when they were stopped. Shots were exchanged at
the roadblock and Daniels and West managed to wound a Van Wert policeman named
Leonard Conn and Frank Fremont, a conservation division employee, during the
gunfight. It ended with West being shot dead and Daniels being taken into
custody.
While in jail, Daniels bragged about his
exploits and when he was bought outside to pose for news photographers, an
angry mob gathered and demanded that he be turned over to them to be hanged.
Officials managed to get him safely back indoors but not before Daniels cursed
the police, the photographers and the crowd. He was later tried and convicted for
the murders and took a well-deserved seat in the Ohio State Penitentiary
electric chair in January 1949.
In
other cases, inmates at the Ohio State Reformatory were killing each other – or
themselves. In 1955, a guard discovered the body of an inmate who had hanged
himself in his cell. A few years later, another inmate poured a can of
turpentine over himself and lit a match, setting his clothing on fire. After a
prison riot occurred at the reformatory in 1957, 120 prisoners were confined to
a solitary confinement area known as “the hole.” This was a dank, pitch-dark
place of confinement where it was rumored that several inmates had gone insane.
Because there were only 20 rooms in the hole, many of the men had to be locked
into the solitary cells together for 30 days. During this time, at least one
prisoner was alleged to have been murdered, his body hidden by another inmate
under some bedding for several days.
Some
blamed the condition of the prison on the mental state of some of the inmates.
By the early part of the 1930s, the reformatory was already being criticized
for being overcrowded and offering inhumane living quarters for the prisoners.
As the years went by, the facility deteriorated even more.
In the
1970s, the state declared that the Ohio State Reformatory no longer met the
standards and guidelines for correctional institutes. Public outcry about the
state of the prison was led by the Counsel for Human Dignity, a coalition of
civic and church groups. In 1978, they filed a federal lawsuit on behalf of the
2,200 inmates at the reformatory, claiming that the prisoners’ Constitutional
rights were being violated because they were forced to live in “brutalizing and
inhumane conditions.” The lawsuit was finally resolved in 1983 with the filing
of a consent decree in which prison officials agreed to improve conditions
while preparing to close the cellblocks by December 31, 1986. The closing date
ended up being extended for a few years, but by 1990, the reformatory was
closed for good.
During
the final years of the prison, the only people who seemed to appreciate the
crumbling prison were Hollywood moviemakers. While the reformatory was still in
operation, two movies – Harry and Walter
Go to New York in 1975 and Tango and
Cash in 1989 – used the prison for some scenes. However, it was not until
1994, when the film crew for The
Shawshank Redemption arrived, that film crews began to realize that the
Ohio State Reformatory was the perfect setting for prison films. The facility
was widely featured in the film with more than 30 scenes shot in the prison or
on the grounds. Several years later, scenes from Air Force One were also filmed
at the reformatory. In recent years, there have also been a number of music
videos produced at the prison, as well.
One of
the Reformatory’s Cell blocks – a popular place for both film makers and ghost
hunters!
The
reformatory continued to decline for a time after it closed but then, in an
effort to save the place, the Mansfield Reformatory Preservation Society (MRPS)
was formed. Today, steps are under way to restore the remaining structure to
its original condition. The building was added to the National Register of
Historic Places and the reformatory’s six-tier east wing is listed in the
Guinness Book of World Records as the world’s largest free-standing steel
cellblock. The MRPS continues its work today by offering guided tours and
numerous events and they have received several awards for their efforts to save
this piece of Ohio history.
Since
the closing of the reformatory in 1990, stories have circulated that the prison
is haunted by the tormented spirits of former inmates, guards and prison
officials who have simply never left. According to the legends, they are
trapped here behind these decaying stone walls and rusted iron bars by the
violent and painful events of their individual pasts. The horror and death of
years past seems to be replaying itself behind the gates of the Ohio State
Reformatory. Visitors who come here today become quickly aware that the
cellblocks and corridors of the prison are not as empty and silent as they
first appear to be.
One of
the most tragic events to occur at the reformatory took place on November 5,
1950, in the administration wing of the prison. One section of this wing
contained the home and offices of Warden Arthur L. Glattke, his wife, Helen,
and their sons, Arthur, Jr. and Teddy. On that Sunday morning, Mrs. Glattke was
in her bedroom alone and was getting dressed to go out. It was believed that
she reached up into a high shelf in her closet, trying to get her jewelry box,
and moved a .32-caliber pistol out of her way. The gun had been placed in the
residence for the family’s protection. Dr. P.A. Stoodt, the attending
physician, believed that Helen may have dropped the pistol and as it slipped
out of her hands and hit the floor, it went off. The bullet struck her in the
chest and penetrated her left lung.
When
Warden Glattke heard the shot, he ran to the bedroom and discovered Helen
bleeding on the floor. He summoned the reformatory physician, Dr. J.V. Horst,
who, unable to treat her on site, had Mrs. Glattke rushed to the General Hospital.
She never regained consciousness and died during the early morning hours of
Tuesday, November 7.
In
1959, Arthur Glattke died of a heart attack in his office. It is believed that
the ghosts of both Mr. and Mrs. Glattke haunt the reformatory. At certain
times, visitors have reported feeling cold rushes of air in the administration
wing and equipment failures are also common here. The “pink bathroom” located
in this wing is a spot where the ghost of Helen Glattke is said to make her
presence known through the smell of perfume and the scent of fresh flowers.
Mrs. Glattke may also be the ghost who has been seen in the old prison library.
A number of psychics have experienced the vision of a woman in the prison and
several visitors have also gotten a glimpse of her in this room.
The
hospital’s infirmary is another area of the prison where strange experiences
often occur. It was here that inmates were treated for influenza, tuberculosis
and a legion of other ailments and diseases caused by the poor conditions and
inadequate food and medical care offered to the prisoners. A number of men died
of these illnesses during the years of the reformatory’s operation and some
believe their ghosts may linger at the last place where they suffered during
their lifetimes. It has often been reported that video cameras, recorders and
electronic equipment behave erratically in this area and that shadows are often
seen here, moving about in the dim light. It is a part of the prison where few
want to venture alone.
The
prison’s chapel is located just above the infirmary and it has its own tales of
ghosts and hauntings. The most commonly reported incidents there seem to
involve a man who has been seen peeking around the doors and peering into the
room. He always ducks away when someone notices him. At first, visitors believe
this is a real person, or someone from their own group, hoping to play on trick
on them. But when they check the other side of the door, they discover that no
one is there.
The
prison’s cellblocks have their own dark stories to tell. It was in these cells
where the inmates lived, suffered and sometimes died. Prisoners committed
suicide, mutilated themselves and committed horrific acts on one another.
Beatings, stabbings and rapes were not uncommon and a brutal attack might be
visited on another inmate for something as trivial as looking at someone the
wrong way. Life in the reformatory could be agony, filled with hate, violence
and insanity. Many of these men carried these emotions with them to the grave and
their spirits, trapped within these walls, are still manifesting these feelings
in death. The doors to the cellblocks may be standing open these days, but the
spirits of the men who were once locked behind them remain imprisoned behind
the rusted bars.
The
lowest levels of the reformatory are perhaps the most frightening to visitors
who come here today. The basement is a maze of dark, twisting hallways and
rumors persist that inmates were sometimes brought here to be beaten and
tortured by guards. A number of people claim to have seen the ghost of a young
inmate, allegedly beaten to death, wandering the dark hallways of the basement.
The boy always vanishes, or runs away, after he is noticed.
But
perhaps the most sinister location in the old prison is the infamous “Hole.”
There is no record of just how many prisoners were subjected to the terrifying
conditions of this part of the prison, where they were jailed in total darkness
and forced to sleep on bare, concrete floors – or how many of them may have been
left behind as restless spirits. The Hole is a place that saw the darkest side
of human nature and the most violent acts carried out within the reformatory’s
walls. One does not need to have any psychic abilities to feel the intense
energies of this area. Those who visit The Hole say they feel goosebumps, cold
chills and, on many occasions, become violently sick to their stomachs. Is it
merely their imagination, sent into an overactive state because of the bloody
stories that are told about this place? Perhaps, but if so, how do we explain
the strange cries that have been recorded in these cells, the tapping footsteps
and the unshakeable feeling of being watched? The history that has been
imprinted on the stone walls of The Hole seems to be making its presence known
to a great many people who dare to come to this spot.
The
Ohio State Reformatory can be a physically and mentally exhausting place. There
are seemingly miles of rooms, offices, corridors and cell blocks to be explored
and it’s not a place for the faint of heart. Unexplained occurrences are common
here and give evidence to the fact that sometimes escape simply isn’t possible
– even after death.
Want to spend the night at the Mansfield
Reformatory with us? Join American Hauntings for two different PRIVATE dates in
2013! Click here to see more information about our overnight ghost hunts and we
hope to see you in the coming year!
(Some
photographs courtesy of Rob Johnson and Troy Taylor’s book DEAD MEN DO TELLTALES)
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