Short History Of... - Alcatraz

Episode Date: October 17, 2021

Cloaked in secrecy, discussed by even the most hardened criminals as a place of terror, US Penitentiary Alcatraz is the most feared institution in the American penal system. From 1934 to 1963 more than 1500 prisoners pass through its gates, including Machine-Gun Kelly and Scarface himself, Alphonse Capone. But how did this island rock capture the public imagination? What was life really like inside? This is a Short History of Alcatraz. Written by Kate Simants. With thanks to Jolene Babyak, Alcatraz Historian and author of Breaking the Rock: The Great Escape from Alcatraz. For ad-free listening, exclusive content and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Now available for Apple and Android users. Click the Noiser+ banner on Apple or go to noiser.com/subscriptions to get started with a 7-day free trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's late November 1935. A barge is pulling out of a San Francisco pier at nightfall. Handcuffed and shivering in a government-issue shirt, a man sits on a wooden bench bolted to the deck. Beside him, a grim-faced guard holds a machine gun. The man has been in the prison system since he was 13. Juvenile to begin with, then state prison. An armed robbery that crossed state lines earned him a place in a federal jail.

This transfer is his reward for his failed breakout attempt from his last home, Leavenworth. Even a year ago it was notorious, the worst of the lot. But not anymore. The engine roars, struggling against the bay's fierce Pacific currents. The man glances up across the black water as a sudden flash swings across the sound, the beam from the lighthouse. As it moves off, he sees the silhouetted outline of the buildings he'll call home for the next ten years.

For a brief moment, seeing the wide open water and the huge sky above him, he thinks of freedom. He considers jumping, even though it would be madness, suicidal, in these frigid, treacherous waters. But the reputation of the place he's going to is almost more terrifying than the rumors of sharks here. Since it opened a year ago, this new prison has been cloaked in secrecy, discussed even by hardened criminals as a place of terror. As a saying among inmates, if you get to choose between state, federal, and military prison, choose military last. Until a year ago, that's what this place was.

If the taunts of the guards are to be trusted, not much has changed since the U.S. Bureau of Prisons took it over. The man takes one last glance at the majestic Golden Gate Bridge, towering across the water, before the boat is swallowed by the fog that hugs the island like a shroud. They pull in alongside the dock. He's hauled roughly to his feet, hustled onto the concrete, and taken for processing. The barrel of a gun is only ever inches away from his back. Hands still manacled, he climbs the hill to the cell block. There's a shout from high above him, and he looks up to see yet another weapon trained on him.

Circling the prison complex on the top of the island is a steel catwalk connecting its six imposing towers, catwalk connecting its six imposing towers, manned 24 hours a day, seven days a week, by guards trained in firearms and jiu-jitsu. Inside the building, he's relieved of his name and given the number that he'll respond to for the next decade, AZ-181. And then he strip-searched, handed a bundle of rough clothes, and booked in. Another armed guard marches him to his cell, B Block, Tier 2. What strikes him first, the most eerie thing, is the silence. There's none of the clamour of Leavenworth when a new inmate or fish arrives.

clamour of Leavenworth when a new inmate or fish arrives. Except for weekends and the allotted time in the wreckyard, there's a total ban on conversation here. It's the detail that will soon drive another inmate to commit suicide using a blade from a pencil sharpener. A cell is opened and AZ-181 steps inside. It's five by nine feet, freezing cold and empty, except for a lidless toilet, a sink with a single cold tap and a straw mattress. The barred door clangs shut behind him. Welcome to Alcatraz, the guard says.

Welcome to Alcatraz, the guard says. From 1934 to 1963, U.S. Penitentiary Alcatraz is the most feared institution in the American penal system. Over its 29 years, more than 1,500 prisoners pass through its gates. But it's reserved for only the most incorrigible, the most dangerous of felons. Men who can't be contained by any other prison, however tough. Its roll call includes America's truly notorious men, Machine Gun Kelly, Al Capone, and Robert Stroud, the Birdman of Alcatraz. But the reality of life inside is protected by a code of silence.

The less the world knows about Alcatraz, the more they will fear it. And that's exactly how the authorities want it. An escape-proof prison where no amount of fame or ill-gotten riches will help you. Patrolled by guards invulnerable to bribery. A cautionary tale, a deterrent to the perpetrators of the worst crimes in the US. Its infamy catches the imagination of the United States, and indeed the rest of the world. Even long after its closure, countless books, films and TV shows document and speculate about this, the most famous prison in the world But what is life really like inside? Who are the people that live there, in and outside the walls?

Why, a decade after it opened, is it bombarded with grenades by the very people tasked with maintaining it? And in 1962, how do three men pull off the most sophisticated and audacious prison escape in US history? I'm Paul McGann, and this is a short history of Alcatraz. of Alcatraz. Alcatraz Island is 22 acres of solid rock, sitting around a mile and a half from San Francisco. The first records give it the name Isla de los Alcatraces, after the pelicans or gannets that nest here in their thousands. Before the Mexican War, the island was under Spanish control. But although it changes hands privately several times in the mid-1800s,

it's not long before the U.S. government stakes a claim. Alcatraz historian Jolene Babiak, who lived on the island as a child, explains. When you had California become part of the United States in 1849, there was a sense that San Francisco had to be protected from foreign invasion. And they worried about the English. They worried about the Spanish and the Mexicans because California had essentially been subsumed, you know, by the United States. And then they worried about the Chinese because they were coming over to build the railroads eventually. And so they felt like they needed to build

a military fort that would protect the bay from foreign invasion from all of these countries. And it was a part of a triangle of forts, both now at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge, which is three miles away, and then Alcatraz, which is in the middle, right off the shore of San Francisco. So the idea is if a ship came in there, you would have a volley of cannons from both sides, and they wouldn't be able to take over the city.

In the early days of habitation on what will become known as the Rock, there is very little infrastructure. But luckily, the garrison comes with its own supply of laborers, willing or otherwise. All military forts have jails where you put the guys who are mostly drinking too much and brawling and all the crimes that are in civil society are also replicated in military life. So all forts have jails. But because Alcatraz was often shrouded in fog and looked forbidding and was cold,

the other forts in the Bay Area started sending their men to Alcatraz. And the jail got bigger and bigger and bigger, and finally it became disciplinary barracks, and then it eventually became a prison. It's the job of the prisoners themselves to build the walls that cage them. Mortar is mixed and stones laid by hand. During the Civil War, Confederate sympathizers are shipped out here. By the turn of the century, the inmate population has grown from around a dozen to over 400.

The inmate population has grown from around a dozen to over 400. By 1909, the US Army is using Alcatraz solely for the incarceration of its own prisoners. Minor infractions like drunkenness or fighting will get you 10 to 30 days. Serious crimes will cost you not only up to 10 years on the island, but also a brand or tattoo, a T for a theft or a D for desertion. Outside the military prison, the world is changing fast. The First World War comes and goes, but America's problems are far from over. It was a terrible war.

And then you had a lot of men introduced to the machine gun. And then they came back to the United States disillusioned and probably suffering from PTSD. And society had changed now with fast cars. So you had the machine gun, you had a lot of unemployment among military, and you had fast cars. And you had a situation where banks could be robbed. Every state has its own jurisdiction, but also there's the federal government. So in the old days, you could rob a bank in one state and then rush to another state. And the cops theoretically couldn't come and get you. So now, if you crossed a state line after committing a crime, that brought in the FBI. That became a federal crime. So because of the federal crimes, there had to be federal prisons. And those prisons fill up fast. From 1920,

prohibition forces the production and distribution of alcohol underground. A wave of crime gathers force across the country. Bank robberies become rife, but the police are ill-equipped to cope. The police forces were not very professional. A lot of times they were farmers who were hired as sheriffs. They didn't have much training in terms of security. The jails were pretty loosey goosey. And the criminals were, you know, they were daring, you know, and they were celebrated for being daring.

In 1929, the Wall Street crash triggers the Great Depression. Unable to make rent or loan repayments, tens of thousands are forced from their homes. Barely able to clothe or feed their children, they congregate in shanty towns named Hoovervilles after the increasingly unpopular president. The banks find themselves being blamed for the desperation of so many ordinary people. So it's no surprise that charismatic bank robbers like John Dillinger, famous for jumping over bank cages,

are seen by many as Robin Hood figures. Newspapers were suffering from the Depression too. And so they jacked up the information, you know, on the crimes because it would sell newspapers. And then the Depression, everybody was fascinated, and people felt like nobody really got hurt when you robbed a bank because the money eventually was insured. To make matters worse, some guards in the existing federal prisons

are just as corruptible as their opposite numbers in the police forces. The celebrity status of the big-name gangsters and bank robbers followed them inside even the toughest prisons. McNeil Island, Atlanta, Leavenworth. As long as you can work out who to bribe, life could be comfortable. The money you made bootlegging on the outside can buy you a lavishly furnished cell. All the contraband you want, visits around the clock, you name it. Security is another problem. The Bureau is embarrassed by a constant stream of breakouts.

After a while, these stories of sleaze and ineptitude make their way to the ears of the director of the Bureau of Investigations, later to become the FBI. It was J. Edgar Hoover. It was all tied up with J. Edgar Hoover. A fascinating character, probably somewhat of a psychopathic personality disorder. Very dangerous, even to ordinary people. People were tremendously afraid of him. He had files on presidents, and he basically did a lot of good,

but was an extremely dangerous guy in lots of ways. Hoover sends undercover officers into federal prisons and uncovers systematic corruption. What's needed, he believes, is another level, a higher category. Something beyond the influence of the celebrity gangster. Something to act as a deterrent to the incorrigibles, the escape artists. To strike fear into the hearts of even the worst criminals. Luckily for him, Alcatraz is looking for a new owner.

The army had abandoned the property because it was too expensive to operate, because there was no water on the island and all the water had to be imported. So it was a very expensive island and the army gave it up. And the feds just swooped in and said, you know, here's a ready-made prison for us. All we have to do is put up a few towers. And it was used as a hammer. It was designed to be the threat. You screw up, you're going to go to Iraq in the middle of San Francisco Bay. And everybody knew

what that meant. Alcatraz had already been notorious, but it was notorious in a very private way because army officers or army enlisted men would be sent to Alcatraz as a prisoner and it was cold. The buildings were heated by fireplace, which is very inefficient. Showers, there were no showers. You took baths in cold salt water. I mean, the conditions there for most of the years were terrible. All of those men went home and they told their wives and they told their mothers and they told their families about that devil rock, how horrible the conditions were. Hoover was such an oversized personality that kind of what he said got done. So in a subterranean way, there was a lot of knowledge about Alcatraz, but it became an overnight sensation when it was designated as a federal prison in 1933 and 34.

However, when news breaks that Alcatraz will transition from military to federal control, public opposition is fierce. The locals are all too aware that so far, Alcatraz has hardly been the escape-proof institution Hoover is promising. Over the years, military prisoners staged dozens of breakouts. Though most would-be escapees drowned, 17 men were never seen again. Now young women from a San Francisco club swim to the island and back in under two hours, just to prove it can be done. The citizens look out to the island from Fisherman's Wharf and see platforms being erected. On a clear day they can make out armed officers

patrolling them. They can hear the sirens being tested. But beyond that, no one really knows what's happening inside the walls. Already the myth of Alcatraz is starting to take shape. As a child on Alcatraz Island in the mid-1950s, Jolene Babiak watches on as her father, an administrator of the jail, becomes associate warden. Even when staff from the island meet with the wardens of other prisons, Alcatraz is discussed in hushed tones. There was a shroud of secrecy. Alcatraz was kind of vague. People didn't talk about it. When they had meetings like the superintendent of industries or the associate wardens or the wardens, Alcatraz wasn't talked about very much, not because they were trying to keep it a secret, but because all the rules that applied to other prisons simply didn't apply to Alcatraz. James A. Johnston is hand-selected as the first warden.

A deeply religious, strict disciplinarian, he has already made his name at the reform of Folsom and San Quentin prisons, and will stay in his post for the next twelve years. But there's nothing progressive about his philosophy. Where other prisons are intended to rehabilitate, Alcatraz exists only to cut prisoners off from their criminal ties and punish. It's 1934, and the flat iron bars of cell blocks B and C have been upgraded to tubular toolproof bars. The segregation cells of D block are good to go. United States Penitentiary Alcatraz is ready to open its doors to its first inmates. I would think it would probably be an anxiety-producing trip.

It would have gone on for possibly weeks to get there, and you had plenty of time to dread it. So people who came to Alcatraz, I've had men tell me that they cried. They were so worried. You know, they were worried about how they were going to be treated. They were worried about the other prisoners, you know. They were not happy. And it was shrouded in mystery to some extent. And so there was a lot of fear involved in coming to the island,

and there was dread. BayZ181 has passed a restless first night on B Block. It's 6.30am and the first whistle of the day sounds. He is to place his hands on the bars to be counted. Across the open hallway a row of bleary-eyed men do the same. In the tiers above and below it's the same story. After the count, he has minutes to tidy his cell, make his bed, brush his teeth. He works quickly, knowing that the slightest infringement could land him in segregation. Another whistle, and row by row the cells are unlocked.

The men emerge dully from their cells, making their way to the mess hall. There's a dark humour in the naming of the prison's sectors. Broadway, where he trudges in line, is the main drag between the cells. The approach to the dining hall beyond is Times Square, overlooked by the gun gallery. Woe betide any prisoner confined to Sunset Strip, otherwise known variously as D-Block or the Segregation Unit. At its far end are the dreaded dark cells for solitary confinement. The dining hall where he sits now without speaking a word is known simply as the gas chamber.

Glancing up, he sees why. Rows of tear gas canisters hang from the ceiling, ready for remote and simultaneous detonation if a guard gives the order. Another count, and the inmate heads out for morning duties. AZ181 lines up for the imposing gateway of the snitch box, or metal detector, one of the first of its kind, before following the group he's been assigned to work for at the docks. The task here is to unload drinking water and supplies from the boats that cross from the pier in San Francisco a dozen times a day. It is backbreaking work. There's another man on the same detail who he vaguely recognizes, but he keeps his head

down, doesn't say a word. He hears a sound he hasn't heard in years and looks up to place it. High above him, almost out of sight, are a group of children. Families live here, so that the guards can be on call. But seeing these boys and girls darting around the nasturtium-tufted rocks gives him pause. These other residents have almost normal lives here. There are clubs, a bowling alley, Halloween and Thanksgiving parties. Even though he knows it's impossible, he finds himself desperate again for freedom. For escape.

Back in the mess hall for lunch, he sees the familiar face again and makes the connection. He's now sharing a cell block with Machine Gun Kelly. Alcatraz is home to many legendary criminals over the years, but George Kelly Barnes, Machine Gun Kelly, is among the first groups of federal prisoners. He stays on the rock for 17 years. Despite his fearsome reputation outside, the regime here beats him quickly into submission. He becomes the altar boy, before finally being transferred back to Leavenworth Prison, where he dies four years later. But even more famous is public enemy number one. Alphonse Gabriel Capone.

Big Al. Scarface. Mastermind of the St. Valentine's Day massacre. Ruthless boss of the infamous Chicago outfit. fame would generate a stiffer sentencing. And Al Capone embodied that because he was the most famous and the first big-time celebrity criminal. There had been other celebrity criminals, but he became just the hugest guy. Although his involvement in some of the worst Prohibition-era violence goes unpunished,

1931 sees Alphonse Gabriel Capone sentenced to 22 years for felony tax evasion. But notoriety and money will follow a man like Scarface even into prison, and it's not long before he's got his guards in Atlanta doing his bidding. The newspapers print stories of his carpeted cell and his afternoons playing tennis. The newspapers print stories of his carpeted cell and his afternoons playing tennis. Unluckily for him, this is exactly what J. Edgar Hoover wants to make an example of. But even when he's first transferred, this isn't the same Capone who once struck fear into the heart of the Chicago PD. Even when he came on the island, they knew he had neurosyphilis. His feet shuffled and he had one fixed eye.

And he proceeded to have breakdowns on the island, which they felt didn't look good because it would appear to the public that he was being punished or tortured. He was increasingly silly. Neurosyphilis would affect your moods. He was increasingly smiley. Even his mugshot, he's smiling. And that's not the usual. I would imagine he had a rough time. He was stabbed at one point. He was hit over the head with a trumpet at one point. Guys would see him and think, oh,

the tough Al Capone, who now had essentially dementia, and, you know, would want to try to make their reputations off his back. The harsh philosophy of degradation and punishment over rehabilitation is a shock to Capone. He tries multiple times to bribe the guards, but things are different here. Not even his mother gets an easy time when she visits. Her corsets trigger the alarm in the snitch box, and she's forced to take them off before she can see her ailing son.

Some years into his sentence, Capone will admit defeat to Warden Johnston. It looks like Alcatraz has got me licked, he says. His submission pays off, when Johnston allows inmates to earn the right to play music. Capone masters the guitar and the mandala and gets a coveted spot in the prison band, the Rock Islanders, who play to the inmates on Sunday afternoons. But, as many prisoners will discover, privileges you earn can be taken away. Three years into his sentence, AZ-181 has managed to get transferred to the bake shop, known for relatively easy work. He's hit upon an ingenious idea, making bootleg beer using the bakery's yeast supplies.

making bootleg beer using the bakery's yeast supplies. He decants the brew into IV bottles stolen from the hospital block and hides them inside loaves of bread. But he miscalculates. The bottles explode, and he is written up for two weeks in the hole, the solitary confinement cells of D-block. He's escorted to his new cell, but this time when the bars are locked,

there's a second door of solid steel to match the walls and even the ceiling. It's completely dark, and he is locked in for 24 hours a day. Minutes pass, or hours, it's hard to know in the pitch black. Then food appears through a slot. He takes the cold tray, thinking jealously of the other inmates in the mess hall, eating the food that is strangely, famously, the best in the entire US penal system. It's so good that even the guards, even the warden, eats the same meals. Today would be beef pie, buttered greens, coffee, a fruit cobbler. But not in solitary. Here, it's bread, soup, and water. His only relief will be his one bath a week, and a single trip to the wreckyard. Even there, the other prisoners will ignore him,

for fear of appearing to fraternize. To keep himself from going insane in his cell, he devises a game. He pulls a button from his shirt, throws it into the air, gets on his knees and finds it in the dark. And then he throws it again. And again. Within a month, he'll be out in the main cell block. But others won't be so lucky. A case in point, Robert Stroud, the birdman of Alcatraz. He has spent the last thirty years at Leavenworth, where, despite narrowly avoiding

a death sentence for fatally stabbing a guard, he's built up some respect. Good behaviour led to the granting of a request for two canaries, which he's bred into a flock of over 300. But in 1942, Leavenworth guards discover he's been abusing his privileges, smuggling contraband in bird boxes. He's transferred to Alcatraz where, as inmate AZ-594 he'll find no such special treatment.

Despite the title of the 1962 film starring Burt Lancaster that Stroud himself is never allowed to see his ornithological days are over. He spends his first six years on the rock in segregation, and another eleven in the prison hospital. He'll never tend another bird as long as he lives. Over time, the regime in the prison changes.

Eventually Johnston is forced to abandon the silent system for the slightly less austere quiet system. But conditions remain dreary. Frustration bubbles over. There are fights. There are suicides. And to some, the claim that it's an escape-proof prison becomes an irresistible challenge. It's late spring 1946.

Bernard Coy is serving 26 years, and he wants out. Coy was kind of a dead ender. He wasn't ever going anywhere. And he invited guys into the scheme who were also dead enders. Poorly educated, rural farm kids. Clarence Carnes was a Native American, had tons of years. Coy was about 46, which is pretty ancient for Alcatraz. Clarence Carnes was 19. So I can imagine that the older man, you know, put his arm around the younger man

and convinced him that he needed to be involved in this escape attempt. It flattered him, basically, cajoled him. convinced him that he needed to be involved in this escape attempt. It flattered him, basically, cajoled him. Coy has been preparing. Over the course of months, he's been studying the guards in detail, their movements, their routines. It's common knowledge that the previous attempts here ended in inmates being shot, drowned, or simply turning themselves in.

But Coy is confident that his plan is different. And on May 2nd, 1946, he decides that today is the day. He smears himself in axle grease and gets ready. Eyes fixed on the gun gallery above Broadway, He waits until the guard turns away. Then, with the help of accomplished Joe Kretzer, he starts to climb. From a bag carried in his teeth, he pulls a bar spreader made by a sympathetic friend in the workshop. Hard hammering, he cranks it until he's made a gap. It's only ten inches, but he's been starving himself for this moment. Lubricated by the oil, after a painful squeeze, he's through. He helps himself to a riot club, then heads to the armory and crouches.

At his signal, his accomplices create a disturbance, luring the guard out. When the door is opened, Koi explodes into action, brutally bludgeoning the guard and strangling him unconscious with his own tie. Now fully armed, Koi passes weapons to his accomplices. Together they take nine guards hostage, locking them into two cells. Together they take nine guards hostage, locking them into two cells. Coy relieves one of them of his uniform, while Kretzer and Karns search the others for the key to the yard. A quick-thinking guard hides his key in the cell's toilet, where the increasingly frustrated inmates take more prisoners.

Time ticks on, and there's still no coordinated response from the officers. There were no radios in those days. People didn't have walkie-talkies, as shocking as that seems. So there was no way to communicate on that island. The warden was now 70 years old, which today wouldn't be considered all that old, but in those days, ancient. He should have been gone. all that old, but in those days, ancient. He should have been gone. And he had no battle experience, and suddenly he was in a war, literally, and prisoners had guns. And so they were untrained. They really didn't know how to solve this problem.

When eventually the alarm is raised, the siren is so loud that it can be heard on the mainland. Inside, Coy and his gang realize that they're unable to get out into the yard without a key. With hope dwindling and panic rising, the gang fire into the cells containing the hostages. The Battle of Alcatraz is now fully underway. underway. Someone suggested that men go down along the hillside and then just shoot into D-block, point blank, not knowing where the hostages were and not knowing who was involved and threatening the lives of people who were not involved. And they were shooting and this went on for hours and then it went on overnight and one guard was killed by friendly fire they didn't get to rescue the hostages until almost midnight and and many of them had been bleeding all afternoon all evening some of them with very serious injuries one guy was shot

in the face Marines arrived and unleash volley after volley of gunfire, grenades, and tear gas. The entire cell block fills with smoke, and water pipes burst. Outside, boatloads of reporters and photographers try to land to cover the story of the year. They're turned away in no uncertain terms. People in San Francisco could see the smoke, and they could hear the gunfire. If you were down near the shore, you could see it and hear it. So people came down to the shore to watch,

and they were eventually taking bodies off the island on the boat. And the newspapers, of course, had huge headlines. It was a huge deal. The battle rages into the next day and well into another night. Coy and two others have retreated to a utility corridor. But the Marines have them in their sights. They drill holes into the ceiling above them and lower yet more grenades before detonating them.

Dozens of other prisoners are deafened, concussed and caught in the crossfire. Even though most have nothing to do with the breakout, they know that attempting to surrender is likely to see them shot, so they hide in their cells, barricading themselves behind mattresses soaked in the freezing cold water that's now flooding the whole block. mattresses soaked in the freezing cold water that's now flooding the whole block. It takes 48 hours for the authorities to confirm that Coy and the main antagonists are dead.

The remaining inmates are unarmed. The battle is over. The escapees never even set foot outside the cell block. All told, by the time the smoke clears, two guards are dead. Coy and two others are found lifeless in the service corridor. More than a dozen officers and many prisoners are injured. For their part in the attempt, two more inmates will later die, side by side, in the San Quentin gas chamber. One of these men, Sam Shockley, had a mental age of only eight years. During his trial, he was unable to recall all but the most basic details about his involvement. But in Alcatraz, everything changed. There wasn't another escape attempt for 10 years. Everything just tamped down.

The rules got harder. You know, they just solidified the building. They put up a fence on the gun gallery so you could no longer get into the gun gallery. They shored up the security. I don't want to say that the treatment became harsher. That wasn't true, but the security became more formidable. And there wasn't another escape attempt for 10 years. A new kind of normality returns.

But whatever flickers of camaraderie had previously existed between guards and inmates has disappeared. Prisoners keep to themselves. They are afraid of the consequences of fraternizing with anyone who might later be identified as a troublemaker. They look forward only to their visits if they have them, albeit from behind a screen and only once a month, behavior permitting. But despite winning the battle, the Warden's worries are far from over. The prison itself is slowly falling apart. It's a continuous fight with the saltwater and damp, corroding the infrastructure and

weakening every building. With the prison itself becoming increasingly unpopular with the public, federal government is reluctant to allocate the funds needed to maintain it. Nationally, the average cost of keeping a federal inmate is around $3 a day. On Alcatraz, where every mouthful of food and drop of drinking water has to be imported by boat and guards and their families are accommodated on site, its upwards of three times that amount. Sensing their days are numbered, the staff are desperate to maintain the image of the escape-proof prison.

A decade after the battle, a single inmate botches an attempt to swim to freedom, only to be turned back by the unforgiving tides. only to be turned back by the unforgiving tides. Two years later, in 1958, armed robbers Johnson and Burgett are on garbage duty. Seeing a chance, they overpower a guard and try their luck in the water. Johnson is apprehended in the shallows, but Burgett disappears. It's not until ten days later that he's spotted by a tower guard floating, very much dead. The homemade flippers he'd fashioned from wooden planks

are still attached to his feet. But where most would see the gruesome end of a squandered life the associate warden sees an opportunity. They retrieved the body on the boat they brought it back to the island life, the associate warden sees an opportunity. They retrieved the body on the boat. They brought it back to the island. I mean, it was probably, it had been on the water for two weeks, so it was probably in pretty bad shape.

And the associate warden at the time wanted to parade the body through the cell house. Yes, indeed. They wanted to carry the body down Broadway. That associate warden was there when I was seven. I know who he was. They wanted to prove to the prisoners that he didn't make it because, you know, even in that escape attempt, the feeling was they were cheering. Everybody wanted the prisoners to make it. All the prisoners wanted them to make it. Because they wanted to break that escape-proof myth. Little did the prisoners know that in less than four years' time, Alcatraz will see an event that will become more legendary

than all its previous breakout attempts put together. It's 1962, and the world is changing fast. John F. Kennedy has taken the reins of the White House. The space race is underway. The civil rights movement is gaining ground. 34-year-old Frank Morris knows all about the desire for freedom, though his is of a more physical kind. Convicted of his first offence at 13, Morris is well-versed in the prison system. He's also intimidatingly clever, which has caused problems for his jailers at Louisiana,

from where he escaped during a ten-year sentence for armed robbery. He was on the run for a year before he was caught midway through a burglary. This time, he's been sent to the Rock. He arrives to discover that, as luck would have it, his cell is near to that of Alan West, whom he already knows from a Florida state prison. Not long afterwards, brothers Clarence and John Anglin arrive. All four men have histories of escape attempts.

That's how they've ended up here. But it's only Morris who's ever been successful. Frank Morris was a very bright guy who'd tried to escape from other institutions, mostly juvie. And the Anglin brothers, who were sort of doofuses, they were, I'm sorry about the Anglins, poorly educated, thought they were big time.

For a couple of years, they keep their heads down, do their time. But slowly, the men start to talk. Between them, they're sure they can pull something off. Something successful. Something spectacular. And so, in 1962, masterminded by Morris, the four men get to work. Painstakingly, intricately, they set the stage for the most sophisticated breakout in US history. Every night for months, from 5.30 to lights out at 9pm,

the four men take it in turns to dig out the ageing cement holding the vents in place to the backs of the cells. Spoons take too long, so Morris steals and modifies a motor from a vacuum cleaner to create a makeshift drill. The men utilise the noise of their fellow inmates after dinner music practice to mask the sound. They replace the real vents with dummy covers made from the wooden bases of the inmates' communal tobacco boxes. Next, they start work on the route out. Placing each hand and foot with infinite care,

they climb between the inner and outer cell house walls. There is, as they suspected, a route to the roof, and it's up there that they now spend their nights making the numerous, ingenious props and pieces of equipment they'll need. 50 prison-issue raincoats are repurposed to become life vests and one 14-foot raft, using a design from an issue of Popular Mechanics.

The seams are sealed using steam from the hot water pipes. But arguably the most inventive items are papier-mâché heads, complete with hair and eyebrows, made from cuttings in the barbershop floor. The Anglins are so proud of theirs that they give them names, Oscar and Oink. The heads are used as decoys for the nightly counts, both when the preparations are underway and on the night itself. It's June the 11th, 1962. Earlier in the week, Morris discussed the tide times with another inmate. He's identified a window of only an hour that gives them what they need, favourable currents and darkness. They're ready, and tonight their

opportunity has arrived. All four men position their dummy heads in their beds and rumple the blankets just so to create the illusion of a sleeping man the signal is given and the fake vent covers are removed morris and both anglin brothers are out of the cells but west finds that the replacement concrete he's used to hide the damage around the real vent has in fact hardened he's stuck The others have no choice but to leave without him. Inch by silent inch, Morris and the Anglins climb their trusted route to the roof. Later, guards will admit that a crash was heard at around 10.30.

It's assumed this was the grate swinging open, but the noise is shrugged off and forgotten. After all, the 9.30 count at lights out showed all the inmates were safely in bed. Carrying their precious equipment, the three climb down from the roof. They creep out onto the rocks of the North Shore, a carefully chosen blind spot near the power plant. It is a clear night, they can see the lights of San Francisco, the Golden Gate Bridge, and freedom.

The boat and life vests are inflated using a modified concertina. Hardly daring to look back, the men board, push off using paddles made from wood and screws and head out into the tidal swells of the bay. Back in the cell block, all appears in order at the midnight count, done by flashlight, but to which prisoners are not required to respond. The 3am count too passes without incident. But at 6.30am, the guard making the morning count is unable to get a response from Morris' cell. He reaches through the bars to shake the inmate awake, and to his horror, Morris' head rolls to the floor, breaking its nose against the tiles. It's

then that the guard sees this is not a real man. The alarm is raised. But it's too late. Even with West's full cooperation, there's no sign of Morris or the Anglin brothers. And the story is an instant international sensation. Oh my God! Anything that happened on Alcatraz was big news. Escape attempts were huge headlines. Lots of accusations.

Incredible opinions about how this had happened. And it was a clever escape attempt. It's one of the most sophisticated escape attempts in U.S. history, right? And then they disappeared. It's initially assumed the men attempted to merely swim to freedom, a feat Warden Blackwell insists would have been doomed to failure. But he has immediately proven wrong. Two San Francisco men, despite the strong currents, managed to swim the distance in an hour.

A relative of the Anglins now comes forward. As boys, he says, the brothers were experts in the water. As boys, he says, the brothers were experts in the water. Their ability to swim for long distances in Lake Michigan, dodging chunks of ice on the surface as they went, is the stuff of family legend. Two days later, a paddle is found by a Coast Guard patrol. Alongside it is a plastic-wrapped wallet containing names and addresses of the men's friends and family. A week later still, debris from the boat and a fully inflated vest is found on a beach near the Golden Gate Bridge. The inescapable prison has finally met its match.

But it was known at the beginning of that year that they were going to close it because the deferred maintenance was just mounting, and it was costing too much money to operate. It was a very expensive prison because it was an island, and it was so small. And the cost per capita was prohibitively expensive, and the public didn't like it. And Congress, therefore, would not appropriate money. So it was this perfect storm, and that's what changed. It closed

nine months later. A lot of people mistakenly believe that it closed because of that escape attempt. It's not true. That was the final nail in the coffin. Nine months later, the site is abandoned. Prisoners are moved off to complete their sentences elsewhere, and the families who'd made the island their home have to adjust to life on the mainland. For them, it's a sad time. There's always been a strong sense of community here. They'll have to say goodbye to friends, to their homes, to the way of life. For the children, there'll be no more collecting of softballs that escape the prisoner's wreckyard, and those impromptu fishing trips when shoals of striped bass were seen by a guard in a watchtower. All of that ends. In March 1963, the doors of the cell block are locked for the last time

The city of San Francisco considers its options Bids are drawn up to build a casino on the rock or a museum An oil millionaire lobbies to totally redevelop the site, obliterating its history But the next chapter in the rock's history is much more meaningful Alcatraz is officially designated surplus property, a term that rings a bell for the local Sioux social worker and civil rights activist, Belba Cotier. She tracks down a copy of a century-old piece of legislation, the Treaty of Fort Laramie. It states that any land that becomes surplus property

will be returned to the tribal people from whom the United States had acquired it. Native Americans had been mistreated so poorly all the years. Families separated and kids put in schools hundreds and thousands of miles from their tribal lands. The Native Americans started to rise up. And Alcatraz, of course, had been a prison. It had been a land where you can't grow crops, where there was no water. And so it was kind of the perfect symbol for them.

And it was sort of the focus of the Native American civil rights movement. And they occupied it in November of 69. You know, right in the middle of the Vietnam War civil rights movement. And they occupied it in November of 69, you know, right in the middle of the Vietnam War and all the protests and a very exciting time. And they occupied it for about 19 months, but it was a rough place to live. No water, no heat, no fuel, you know, a rock.

And so the universities in the Bay Area, University of California and San Francisco State University supplied a lot of food for them and people rose up and gave them clothing and products. 90 people, men, women and children, settle in on the island. It's celebratory to begin with. There are campfires, dancing, shared meals. But the activists are serious in their pursuit. They make a formal request to create a school and cultural centre on the island. They're not expecting to be given it for free.

They offer the same 47 cents per acre that their ancestors had originally been offered for their land before they were forcibly removed. The occupation gathers national attention. Supporters from the mainland dodge the Coast Guard's blockade to deliver food and water to the activists. Word spreads and many people seek to align themselves with the protest. Jane Fonda and Marlon Brando visit to show support and bring supplies. But life there isn't easy. The government regularly cut off electricity to the island. Getting enough water and food becomes a significant constant battle. Eventually, after the accidental death of a teenage resident, the protest starts to collapse.

Thanks to infighting and an influx of hippies that dilutes the clarity of its ambitions, the struggle loses both momentum and public support. And so, one cloudless afternoon in June 1971, the occupation ends as swiftly as it began. Government officers storm the site and remove the remaining occupants, mostly women and children. By now, they number only 15. Control of the island is handed over to the national parks. It was abandoned for nine years,

and then the national parks came in, and it was transferred to the national park system. And it became a national park. Very exciting. Everybody thought it would last for a year or two. A few people would go out there, and it became a huge, huge attraction. These days, it's estimated that the island draws 1.7 million visitors annually. People come for the history, but also for the fauna. visitors annually. People come for the history but also for the fauna.

The slender salamander abounds, tide pools glitter with small sea creatures, and seals are regular visitors. Bird lovers can spot night herons, cormorants, and guillemots nesting here. The public fascination with the island's sometimes dark, always mysterious past hasn't dampened. The fictional Prison of Azkaban from the Harry Potter series was inspired by The Rock. More recently, J.J. Abrams set an entire series here. And the flicker of hope ignited by the 1962 escape is kindled yearly by competitors in the many swims

and races to the island, like the escape from Alcatraz Triathlon. Because if those people could make it, just maybe the same could be true for Morris

and the Anglin brothers. Next time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of Rosa Parks. Rosa Parks grew up with a very clear understanding that she was not less than white people, even though the system of Jim Crow was designed to make African Americans feel like they were less than and to treat them less than and make them second class, not even citizens, but just second class. Rosa Parks never bought into that. That's next time on Short History Of. Follow us on Twitter for updates. Tweet us with suggestions for Short History Of topics. If there's a story you think we should cover in the show, write to us with your suggestion.