Polk Youth Correctional Center

The land surrounding the North Carolina Museum of Art hasn’t always been inviting and peaceful. In the 1860s this area was a Civil War training facility for Confederate soldiers known as Camp Mangum. From 1918 to 1919, the area was used as a World War I tank training facility. Starting in the 1920s, this was a state prison farm, a men’s prison, and then in 1963 this area of the Park became the Polk Youth Correctional Center. Franklin Freeman: “You had two layers of fencing about 10 yards apart. That was the security so that security could drive around all the time to keep people from escaping.” With a focus on rehabilitation, the center acted as a working farm for mostly young Black men. Secretary of corrections from 1993 to 1997, Franklin Freeman, recalls the inmates grew food and took care of livestock, but the facility was unkempt and overcrowded. Franklin Freeman: “As the number of prisoners grew, ofttimes they would just add prefab buildings. The problem was it took almost 30 years to get from the conception of that until the conclusion of the new building. And particularly during that time, the number of inmates in the facility grew dramatically. In the mid- to late eighties, the State of North Carolina was sued for overcrowding in the prisons. People had brought the lawsuit to stabilize, put a cap, if you would, on the prison population that could be admitted every year. And that cap was about 18,600 statewide. We had space, I mean, excuse me, we had admissions of about 30,000 a year. And so it was almost like pouring a gallon of water into a half-gallon jug.” And the conditions in the crowded center were anything but comfortable, especially in the North Carolina heat. Franklin Freeman: “We had triple bunks in the dormitories, and each inmate had something like 40 or 50 square feet of space. And so you know, you stop and think for a moment about a long dormitory with young men, 18 to 21, 19 to 25, packed in three to a stack in unair-conditioned buildings.” Once the NCMA moved to the adjoining land in 1983, pressure mounted to move Polk Youth Correctional Center away from the growing, family-friendly area. Franklin Freeman: “Very few, well, nobody wanted it around, basically. Very, very few people wanted around and ... for one reason or another.” These uncomfortable conditions came to a head on New Year’s Eve 1993, when the men were watching the ball drop on television. Franklin Freeman: ”There were probably a hundred inmates at least in each dormitory. And so, as the new year drew near, the inmates became more excited and voluble. The correctional officer in the dorm told the young men, “If you don’t be quiet, I’m going to cut the TV off.” Well, of course, you know, 18- to 21-year-olds, all that did was embolden them to get louder, and they got louder and louder as the ball started down, and he cut the TV off. Well, when he did that, the dorm just erupted in protest. And it spread to the other dorms, and all the young men were up so they could hear what was going on. Obviously, the noise got very loud, and there were scuffles, and it got worse as the hour went on, and we had a full-scale riot is what we did, had a full-scale riot.” The riot was brought under control in a few hours, but it didn’t go unnoticed in the surrounding community—a community that had bigger plans for the future. Former prison director Lynn Phillips explains. Lynn Phillips: “The overall condition of the prison was not good. And it was and we were not part of this long-term plan of the Blue Ridge development corridor. It was a lot of work that went into all that research of how to develop this corridor of Blue Ridge Road, and clearly, we were not part of it.” Then the question became, what to do with the land? Franklin Freeman: “Everybody coveted this land. Every state department, many businesspeople wanted this corner. A decision was made the best way to divide this baby is just let the art museum have it as an additional site for artists to display their works.” Lynn Phillips: “It had features that I personally found attractive ’cause I walked a lot of land in the state siting prisons, and this piece of property was as pretty as any you want to see. And it needed to be something other than this eyesore on Blue Ridge Road, that’s for sure.” In 1997 the inmates were moved to a facility in Butner known today as Grandville Correctional Center, and the Polk Youth Correctional Center was closed. In February 2001 the Department of Corrections formally transferred the 45-acre area to the Department of Cultural Resources to be used by the Museum. All that remains of correctional center today is the smokestack that has become a symbol for the Park and Raleigh. Franklin Freeman: “In a prison you have a lot of pain and suffering. It was a place of sadness in many ways, particularly with young people there. It was not a good place to live, and yet you’ve got the beauty of the Park and the art already there and the art to come and the smokestack as a focal point. I think the contrast is marked and dramatic.” The smokestack is arguably the most dramatic spot in the Park. Museum Director Valerie Hilling sees the smokestack as an important reminder. Valerie Hillings: “It’s a reminder of the history of this property, which I think is incredibly important for us to acknowledge that it was not a space that was free and welcoming to all, which is really where we are aiming to go with the Museum’s future. And so we’re going to remember and recognize the past at every turn. Our history involves that history.”