Page 102 - Demo

100Old Morgan County Jail It was a brisk March day when we walked into Jailbird Antiques. Aptly named, the shop occupies part of an 1890, red-brick, 2-story, Italianate jailhouse. Before being retired, the building housed both prisoners and turnkey in the Morgan County seat of Martinsville. Inside, we were greeted by a buoyant Tina Chafey, one of the two proprietresses (the other being Judy Krick). Tina had suggested we stop by at two o%u2019clock when activity in the Tea Room typically slowed down. Looking around, I saw hummingbird trinkets, books, antique clothing, and more%u2014the first floor didn%u2019t even hint at its former use. Because the customers had not thinned out as expected, Tina told us to go on upstairs, that she would be with us in a few minutes.To pass the time, we explored several cells that were filled with an odd assortment of items for sale%u2014treasures such as a handmade acrylic baboon, Edwardian-era women%u2019s shoes, and a 1967 high-school yearbook. Two of the rooms, also former cells, had doors constructed of iron straps in a crisscross pattern that were perfect for displaying pictures and vintage dresses. %u201cSquad Room%u201d was painted in flaking gold letters on a glass transom leading to an old office.After a short time, Tina brought a key to unlock the heavy steel door leading into the main cellblock. There was no electricity, and we had to watch out for the 10%u201d holes in the floor. However, our eyes soon adjusted to the only light available, which was filtering through the glass pane of an outer door. I peered out, and realized that the door opened into 2 stories of thin air. Meanwhile, Tina was pointing out some interesting graffiti and a skull drawn by a prisoner. The paint everywhere was peeling, but Tina assured us that it had been tested and, while unattractive, it was completely lead-free.As we wandered from cell to cell, Tina told us how a parapsychology group had recently been by. They claimed to have sensed the presence of a dead man. Tina found this information quite unsettling, and didn%u2019t like the idea of a specter living in her place of daily employment. John and I couldn%u2019t sense any departed souls (and none showed up on film). Perhaps whoever he was, he was now gone%u2014or maybe he was visiting the %u201cGarden Room%u201d down on the first floor, admiring the decorative flower stakes and tinkling wind chimes for a more pleasant change of scenery.Despite very limited light and cramped maneuvering space, John managed to set up his camera and tripod and start shooting. Because it was so dark, he needed to take exceptionally long exposures%u2014as much as a full minute%u2014but he was unable to see his watch to time them. That%u2019s when he handed me his trusty digital Timex. I stood in the sorry light provided by the door-to-nowhere and, squinting, called out %u201cTime%u201d for the end of each shot.Before leaving, as we gathered our gear, we glanced around one last time. Such a primitive place%u2014bleak, colorless, depressing, and comfortless%u2014it was difficult to believe these dismal cells were still in use as recently as 1991. It was this unsettling fact, not ghosts, that haunted me. %u2014LBFormer jail, Martinsville%u2014Morgan Co. (499-02)