By 1863 men were sleeping in squads,
lined up on
their sides to save space, turning only
on the order
of an elected leader.
Prisoners complained of short rations,
cold, and
lice, yet many were able to buy extra
provisions and
receive packages
from home. Black servants (captured
Northerners)
served the white officers, and there was
running
water and even
primitive flush toilets.
Still, inmates' letters fueled Northern
reports of
inhumane conditions, especially after
sentries were
ordered to shoot
anyone appearing at the windows, and
hundreds of
pounds of gunpowder were ominously
placed in the
cellar following a mass
escape early in 1864.
Confederate authorities tried to head
off negative
opinion by inviting in outside
observers. They
reported plentiful books,
games of whist, and classes in Greek.
Effusive
comments filled the press such as,
"i...found it
kept scrupulously clean
and well ventilated. There was not a
bad smell
about the place...."and "a picture of
profusion met
the eye. The rafters
were thickly hung with hams of bacon
and venison,
beef tongues, bologna sausage, dried
fish, and other
substantials....
"Libby's notoriety survived the war, and
in 1889 the
building was dismantled and re-erected
in Chicago as
a tourist
attraction.
On an isolated site in Richmond, Va.,
bordered
by the James River and empty lots, stood
Libby
Prison, garnering-but
perhaps not deserving-an infamous
reputation second
only to that of Andersonville Prison.
Formerly the
Libby & Son Ship
Chandlers & Grocers, this three-story,
45,000
square foot brick building saw 125,000
Union
officers, but no enlisted men,
pass through its doors before May
1864.