Alcatraz Island

Tim Murphy
22 hours ago
32 min read

The imposing outcrop of San Francisco Bay, Alcatraz Island is synonymous with inescapable fear and unforgiving intimidation—its notoriety inextricably linked to its 29-year tenure as a maximum-security federal penitentiary. While this era of infamy has captured the public imagination, it represents only a single chapter of the island’s complex historical narrative.

While surveying San Francisco Bay in August 1775, Spanish explorer Juan Manuel de Ayala chartered a prominent rocky island as “La Isla de los Alcatraces”—meaning “Island of the Pelicans”—due to its abundance of sea fowl. Over time, the name was shortened and Anglicized to its familiar form, "Alcatraz."

Prior to European colonization, Alcatraz was largely avoided by Indigenous populations. Oral traditions from the Miwok and Ohlone tribes suggest the island was cursed by malevolent spirits. While other historical accounts propose that Alcatraz served as a tribal banishment site or resource for gathering bird eggs, there is no tangible archaeological evidence supporting these claims.

The first private owner of Alcatraz was Julian Workman, who received the property as part of his extensive Rancho La Puente land grant in June 1846. Workman’s proprietorship, however, lasted less than a year. In March 1847, Lieutenant Colonel John C. Frémont, California’s acting military governor, purchased Alcatraz for $5,000 in government bonds. He believed that the island's location would make it “the best position for a Lighthouse and Fortifications in the bay of San Francisco.”

Frémont expected substantial compensation for requisitioning Alcatraz Island on behalf of the United States, but federal authorities disputed the transaction’s legality, arguing that Frémont lacked the proper authority to act as a government proxy. This disagreement became a contentious point during Frémont’s subsequent court-martial, where he faced charges of “mutiny, disobedience, and conduct prejudicial to good order and military discipline.” Frémont was convicted on all counts—though President James K. Polk spared him of any punitive action—and government officials invalidated the purchase. Frémont tried unsuccessfully to reclaim Alcatraz as his personal property, filing a writ of ejectment with the District Court of San Francisco in 1855. The Frémont estate intermittently continued these legal challenges well into the 1890s.

FORT ALCATRAZ: PROTECTING THE GOLDEN GATE

In 1848, gold deposits were discovered along the American River, triggering the California Gold Rush—one of the most significant mass migrations in American history. Word of vast riches spread quickly. Thousands flocked to San Francisco, transforming the once-modest bayside settlement into a bustling metropolis. In 1850, following California’s admission to the Union, President Millard Fillmore issued an executive order that established military reservations around San Francisco Bay. The following year, a Joint Board of Engineers recommended the immediate installation of coastal fortifications at Fort Point, Lime Point, and Alcatraz Island, creating a “Triangle of Defense” that protected the Golden Gate’s valuable mineral resources and burgeoning maritime economy.

The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers began fortifying Alcatraz in August 1853. Chief Engineer Zealous B. Tower masterfully integrated the island’s rugged topography into its defensive layout. Laborers diligently blasted away sandstone and laid bricks to erect formidable, steep walls around the island’s perimeter. However, construction progressed slowly as many skilled workers abandoned their government conscriptions for more lucrative prospects mining gold. Additionally, the procurement of high-quality building materials presented a significant challenge. Numerous batches of bricks were rejected due to their subpar quality, while the limited quantities of sandstone quarried from nearby Angel Island lacked sufficient durability against the San Francisco Bay’s corrosive environment. Chinese granite was imported to overcome these material deficiencies. The fortress gradually took shape as roadways, additional outbuildings, and the final defensive positions were built. On December 30, 1859, Fort Alcatraz became permanently garrisoned by Company H, Third U.S. Artillery, under command of Captain Joseph Stewart.

The fort's defensive design featured multiple layers of protection, including a fortified guardhouse and series of casemates overlooking the docks. At the island’s summit stood a three-story citadel, accessible via drawbridge spanning a deep, dry moat. This strategic structure served as the primary armed barrack and final redoubt, able to house two hundred soldiers and withstand a four-month siege.

While initially intended for coastal defense, Alcatraz’s capacity as a military prison quickly materialized. The earliest recorded confinements involved eleven of Captain Stewart's men, who were detained in the guardhouse basement for various infractions. The island’s role expanded in early 1860 when nearby military installations began to transfer their problematic soldiers—deserters, thieves, and drunkards—to Alcatraz Island. On August 27, 1861, Alcatraz was officially designated as the military prison for the Department of the Pacific, which covered most of the territory west of the Rocky Mountains.

With the outbreak of the American Civil War in April 1861, Colonel Albert Sydney Johnston, then-commander of the Department of the Pacific, preemptively transferred the San Francisco arsenal—consisting of 10,000 muskets and 150,000 ammunition cartridges—to Fort Alcatraz, thereby preventing its capture by Confederate insurgents. Ironically, Johnston himself would later defect to the Confederacy and eventually command the Army of Mississippi. He was mortally wounded during the Battle of Shiloh in April 1862, becoming the highest-ranking officer on either side to die during the Civil War.

On March 15, 1863, a significant threat to San Francisco's security emerged as Southern sympathizers planned to disrupt the Union's financial lifeline. The conspirators, led by Asbury Harpending and fellow members of the Knights of the Golden Circle—a pro-Confederate secret society—acquired the merchant vessel J.M. Chapman and armed it with a cache of weapons. Their objective was to sail out of San Francisco Bay and intercept Union steamships in the Pacific, seizing their cargoes laden with gold and silver bullion. The successful capture of these ships would have furnished vital financial support to the Confederacy. To legitimize the operation, Harpending secured a letter of marque, which promised him an officer's commission in the Confederate Navy for organizing this audacious plot.

However, when the Chapman’s captain indiscreetly bragged about the scheme while drinking in a local tavern, Union officials were quickly relayed the news. On the night of its scheduled departure, the schooner was captured by the USS Cyane. An inspection of the hull revealed cannons, ammunition, and fifteen rebels hiding below deck. Rather than being hailed as Confederate heroes, the participants were arrested, convicted of treason, and imprisoned on Alcatraz Island until pardoned by President Lincoln.

Following the suspension of habeas corpus in 1863, Alcatraz began to incarcerate private citizens and political detractors accused of treason for their Confederate sympathies. For instance, C.L. Weller—the Chairman of the California Democratic Committee—was imprisoned after delivering an "incendiary" speech during the 1864 Presidential campaign. He was eventually released after posting bond and swearing an oath of allegiance to the Union. To accommodate the escalating number of detainees, a temporary wooden stockade was erected on the island.

The technological evolution of rifled artillery significantly diminished Alcatraz's viability for effective harbor defense following the Civil War. Its potential for disciplinary purposes, however, became much more appealing. In 1868, Alcatraz was officially designated as a long-term detention facility for military prisoners in the Western Department. By October 1870, 153 prisoners populated the island.

ALCATRAZ AND THE INDIAN WARS

Throughout the late 1800s, Fort Alcatraz incarcerated an increasing number of Native American prisoners who resisted westward expansion efforts. The first Indian imprisoned at Alcatraz was “Paiute Tom” who had been transferred from Camp McDermitt, Nebraska. His confinement, however, was tragically brief. On June 5, 1873, just three days after his internment, Paiute Tom was fatally shot by a prison guard for unknown reasons. Later that October, two Modoc Indians, Barncho and Sloluck, were imprisoned for conspiring to murder members of a peace commission in northern California during the tumultuous Modoc War. While four others implicated in this conspiracy were hung at Fort Klamath, Oregon, Barncho and Sloluck received a commutation to life imprisonment from President Ulysses S. Grant, likely due to their youth. Barncho ultimately died of scrofula on May 28, 1875, while Sloluck was sent to Fort Leavenworth in February 1878 and later released to join his exiled people in Indian Territory.

In January 1895, nineteen Hopi “hostiles”—primarily from the Third Mesa villages of Oraibi and Hotevilla in northern Arizona—arrived at Alcatraz on charges of sedition. The conditions of their confinement were explicitly punitive, stating they were to be "held in confinement, at hard labor, until ... they fully realize the error of their evil ways ... [and] until they shall evince, in an unmistakable manner, a desire to cease interference with the plans of the government for the civilization and education of its Indian wards."

The Hopi resistance was a direct challenge to the American government's aggressive campaign of forced assimilation, which included the mandatory education of Indigenous children in federally-operated boarding schools, where tribal affiliations were deliberately avoided. Within these institutions, children were stripped of their cultural identity. They were prohibited from speaking their native languages and wearing traditional dress, subjected to forcible haircuts, and compelled to obey Christian dogma. These policies were designed to dismantle Indigenous culture. This destructive ideology was succinctly encapsulated by Captain Richard H. Pratt, the first Superintendent of the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania: "The only good Indian is a dead one...Kill the Indian in him and save the man."

The Hopis were conditionally released on September 23 after they pledged to "cease interference with the plans of the government for the civilization and education of its Indian wards," although they continued to fiercely resist government assimilation policies after returning to Arizona.

THE EVOLUTION OF A MILITARY PRISON

The Spanish-American War fundamentally reoriented military operations on Alcatraz. Initially, the island’s hospital tended to soldiers convalescing from tropical diseases contracted during campaigns in the Philippines. However, an increasing number of soldiers returned not as patients, but as prisoners of war, primarily incarcerated for desertion and insubordination. Between 1899 and 1900 alone, the prison population exploded from 25 to 441 inmates. This rapid influx quickly strained Alcatraz’s existing infrastructure. In March 1900, a new “Upper Prison”—consisting of two cellhouses, a guardhouse, and wooden stockade—was constructed on the Parade Ground, raising the island’s total capacity to 480 prisoners. Despite this expansion, by 1902, the Alcatraz prison facilities had become “rotten and unsafe…and fire traps of the most approved kind.”

Following the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake, Alcatraz Island temporarily received 176 civilian prisoners who were evacuated from the mainland while fires and civil unrest consumed the city. Remarkably, the earthquake caused minimal structural damage on Alcatraz.

In 1907, Fort Alcatraz Island was officially redesignated as the “Pacific Branch, U.S. Military Prison.” The institution's first commandant, Major Reuben B. Turner of the Eighth Infantry, immediately commenced an ambitious redevelopment initiative. He designed and oversaw the construction of the massive cellhouse, which remains the island's most salient architectural feature. Military prisoners demolished the dilapidated citadel and placed the new penitentiary directly overtop its former basement and moat. Upon its completion in 1912, this prison complex was the world’s largest reinforced concrete building—an innovative engineering marvel that integrated modern features like central heating, skylights, and electricity.

The three-story cellhouse featured four main cellblocks, which collectively contained 336 individual cells. These cells were intentionally rudimentary, offering minimal privacy and sparse furnishings with only a bed, desk, washbasin, toilet, and a single blanket. The most severe disciplinary cells—five cells in D-block infamously known as “The Hole”—provided inmates with only a sink and toilet. The most extreme form of solitary confinement was reserved for the final cell (the pejoratively named "Oriental Cell”) which was entirely devoid of furniture and basic sanitary fixtures, aside from a floor drain. Prisoners sentenced to this cell were often confined naked for periods up to 48 hours.

Army leaders soon realized that this sprawling prison complex failed to portray an image of military obedience and institutional loyalty. In 1915, Alcatraz was renamed the “Pacific Branch, U.S. Disciplinary Barracks,” signaling a new emphasis on education and rehabilitation that reflected the growing influence of Progressive Era ideals. As a disciplinary barracks, Alcatraz was a minimum security institution; its inmates only locked up at night. During the day, prisoners attended a structured curriculum of military exercises, remedial education, and vocational training. This systematic approach proved effective. Many men were restored to full duty after their sentences were served, though some were still issued dishonorable discharges.

During World War I, the United States experienced a potent surge of nationalist fervor and anti-German sentiment. This volatile atmosphere was characterized by widespread hysteria and fear of disloyalty, particularly directed towards immigrants, political radicals, and individuals who openly criticized the war effort. In this context, the federal government enacted legislation that facilitated forced conscription and actively criminalized dissent. Conscientious objectors (COs)—those who refused military service due to profound moral or religious convictions—became prime targets of persecution. Dozens were incarcerated on Alcatraz Island during this time.

One such detainee was Private Robert Simmons, an African American serviceman drafted into the 323^rd Labor Battalion. While deployed in France, Simmons refused to obey military orders, even those pertaining to noncombatant duties. He was consequently court-martialed, dishonorably discharged, and sentenced to ten years’ hard labor. In August 1919, Simmons arrived at Alcatraz where he was subjected to severe punitive measures, including 84 days of solitary confinement. The plight of conscientious objectors like Simmons brought outside investigators to Alcatraz, including the National Civil Liberties Bureau, who documented the island’s brutal conditions and lodged formal complaints with the federal government.

Negative public perception, costly logistics, and economic pressures of the Great Depression ultimately precipitated the War Department’s decision to abandon Alcatraz in 1933. That June, Secretary of War George H. Dern approached Attorney General Homer Cummings about the Justice Department's interest in assuming control of the island facility under a five-year license. Initially, Sanford Bates, director of the Bureau of Prisons, opposed the proposition, citing Alcatraz's limited size and geographic isolation as unsuitable for a federal penal institution. However, a subsequent discussion with Cummings swiftly altered Bates's perspective. He concluded that Alcatraz would “make an ideal place of confinement for about 200 of the most desperate or irredeemable types [of criminals].” The Justice Department formally acquired Alcatraz on October 12, 1933.

ALCATRAZ FEDERAL PENITENTIARY

The Bureau of Prisons established a maximum-security, minimum-privilege penitentiary on Alcatraz Island to house its most incorrigible inmates—those deemed too difficult or disruptive to incarcerate elsewhere. This decision underscored a strategic and resolute intent to counter the rampant organized crime that flourished during the Prohibition Era.

In November 1933, James A. Johnston was appointed warden for the proposed federal penitentiary, a position he would retain for the next fourteen years. Prior to this assignment, Johnston had gained considerable experience as a penal administrator within the California Department of Corrections, serving as warden at both Folsom (1912–1913) and San Quentin (1914–1924) prisons.

A staunch disciplinarian, Johnston embraced the mission set forth by the Bureau of Prisons: to create a maximum-security concentration model characterized by punitive action and cold impartiality. He was also instrumental in codifying the institution's operational philosophy, which emphasized limited inmate privileges, strict visitation rules, and no direct court commitments. Despite his stringent demeanor, Johnston was a dedicated proponent of penal reform. He notably challenged some of the most severe punitive measures employed within the prison system, specifically the use of straitjackets and pitch-black solitary confinement.

Beginning on January 1, 1934, the Bureau of Prisons initiated a comprehensive renovation of Alcatraz Island to establish an ostensibly “escape-proof” maximum-security prison. This undertaking involved a series of architectural and technological upgrades designed to ensure absolute institutional control. Four guard towers were constructed at strategic points along the island’s perimeter, providing unobstructed observation over the facility and surrounding shoreline. All inmate cells were reconstructed with tool-proof steel window guards and automatic locking mechanisms centrally operated from secure control boxes. Within the main cellblock, two enclosed gun galleries were installed. These elevated structures allowed armed guards to maintain constant surveillance over all inmate activities while remaining entirely inaccessible to the prison population. Finally, remote-controlled tear gas canisters were affixed to the rafters of the mess hall and main entrance—a proactive implement against potential riots or escape attempts. Given these high security measures and the island's isolated location in the San Francisco Bay, prison operators believed Alcatraz to be America's most secure prison. Alcatraz formally opened as a federal penitentiary on July 1, 1934.

The highly structured, monotonous daily routine at Alcatraz was designed to cultivate strict adherence to rules and regulations. Inmates were afforded only four fundamental rights: food, clothing, shelter, and medical care. Any provision or activity beyond these basic necessities—such as correspondence with family members, visitation, library access, and recreational activities—was a privilege that had to be earned through compliant behavior. Employment opportunities were arguably the most significant allowances. Those granted working status labored in the Model Industries Building, where they pursued professions like sewing, woodworking, laundry services, and general maintenance.

PRISONER PROFILES

Al Capone (AZ-85) was arguably the most infamous prisoner at Alcatraz. Following his 1931 conviction for income tax evasion—which carried an eleven-year sentence—Capone was initially incarcerated at the federal penitentiary in Atlanta. Despite strict convictions from the courts, he consistently persuaded and manipulated penitentiary staff for special accommodations, effectively dictating his own privileges. This luxurious and lenient existence —which permitted him to maintain significant influence over his criminal enterprise from behind bars—ultimately necessitated Capone’s transfer to Alcatraz.

When Capone arrived at Alcatraz in August 1934, his presence immediately drew intense national media scrutiny, effectively thrusting the brand-new “super prison” into the public psyche —perhaps a calculated outcome by federal authorities. Though often cited as a “model prisoner,” Capone's incarceration was not without incident. On June 23, 1936, inmate James "Tex" Lucas assaulted Capone, inflicting a superficial stab wound with shears procured from the barbershop.

Prior to his imprisonment, Capone contracted syphilis but refused treatment from medical officers. As the disease progressed, his physical and cognitive decline became increasingly evident. Capone was formally diagnosed with neurosyphilis in February 1938 and admitted to the prison hospital, confused and disoriented. In January 1939, he was transferred to the Federal Correctional Institution at Terminal Island (near Los Angeles, California) to complete his sentence. Capone was ultimately granted parole that November due to his failing health. He died in Miami Beach, Florida, in January 1947.

Another notable prisoner was Robert “Birdman” Stroud (AZ-564), who had a lifelong propensity for violence. Stroud's criminal trajectory began at the age of eighteen in the Alaska Territory, where he pimped out 36-year-old Kitty O'Brien, a prostitute and dance hall entertainer. On January 18, 1909, Charlie von Dahmer, a barman, allegedly failed to pay O'Brien for her services and physically assaulted her. In defense of his mistress, Stroud shot and killed von Dahmer. He was convicted of manslaughter and sentenced to twelve years on McNeil Island, Washington. While there, Stroud engaged in several violent altercations with his fellow inmates. His belligerence incurred an additional six-month sentence. In 1912, Stroud was transferred to the federal penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas.

On March 26, 1916, Stroud fatally stabbed Corrections Officer Andrew Turner, who had previously reported him for a minor infraction that consequentially deprived Stroud of a rare visit from his younger brother. He was convicted of first-degree murder and condemned to death; however, in 1920, President Woodrow Wilson granted Stroud clemency and commuted his sentence to life imprisonment.

While in solitary confinement at Leavenworth, Stroud discovered a nest with three injured sparrows in the prison yard. He was initially allowed to care for and breed the birds. Within a few years, Stroud had established an aviary of approximately three hundred canaries and maintained an extensive research lab inside two adjoining segregation cells. A self-taught ornithologist, he authored two books: Diseases of Canaries (1933) and the more comprehensive Stroud's Digest on the Diseases of Birds (1943), which remains a contemporary classic in ornithology. Stroud also made important contributions to avian pathology, most notably a cure for hemorrhagic septicemia (fowl cholera), earning him significant respect and professional sympathy among fellow researchers and the agricultural community.

However, after several years of research, prison authorities discovered that some of Stroud’s equipment was actually being used to distill alcohol. This infraction—compounded with longstanding concerns about the sanitary conditions of his cell and his “dangerous tendencies”—necessitated Stroud’s transfer to Alcatraz, where regulations prohibited his ornithological work. He remained on “The Rock” from 1942 to 1959, spending six years in solitary and another eleven confined to the penitentiary’s hospital wing.

While incarcerated at Alcatraz, Stroud authored Looking Outward: An Historical and Analytical Story of the Federal Prison System from the Inside—a history of the U.S. prison system from colonial times to the 1930s. Stroud attempted to publish the manuscripts, but Bureau of Prison officials stopped him, declaring the writings an “obscene” glorification of criminal behavior. Consequently, the text remained largely unpublished during Stroud's lifetime, with only partial sections being released years after his death in 1963.

George Kelly Barnes (AZ-117)—better known as “Machine Gun Kelly”—began his criminal career as a small-time bootlegger in the American Midwest. After a few early arrests, he adopted the alias George R. Kelly. His notoriety escalated after meeting his wife, Kathryn, who helped craft his gangster persona and provided him with his trademark Thompson submachine gun.

During the summer of 1933, George and Kathryn devised a plan to kidnap Charles F. Urschel, a wealthy Oklahoma City oil tycoon. On the evening of July 22, Kelly and two accomplices forcibly abducted Urschel from his residence and held him captive in a remote farmhouse near Paradise, Texas. Urschel was released unharmed eight days later, after the kidnappers secured a $200,000 ransom. The high-profile nature of the crime, coupled with the victim's social standing, spurred an intensive, multi-state investigation that ultimately concluded with George and Kathryn Kelly’s arrest in Memphis, Tennessee, on September 26. Both were convicted of kidnapping and sentence to life imprisonment.

Kelly’s life at Alcatraz was largely uneventful. His quiet, unthreatening demeanor earned him the nickname "Pop Gun Kelly" by fellow inmates. Kelly served as an altar boy in the prison chapel, worked in the laundry, and held an administrative role in the industries office. In 1951, he was transferred to Leavenworth, where he died from a heart attack on his 59th birthday.

Alvin "Creepy" Karpis (AZ-325) was a founding member of the Barker-Karpis Gang—a notorious Depression Era crime organization that terrorized the American Midwest—and directly implicated in ten murders and six major kidnappings. His criminal career ended on May 1, 1936, when he was personally apprehended by FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover in New Orleans, Louisiana. This made him the only designated “Public Enemy #1” to be captured alive. Following his conviction, Karpis spent 26 years on Alcatraz, the longest continuous sentence of any inmate on the island.

Ellsworth Raymond “Bumpy” Johnson (AZ-1117)—the “Godfather of Harlem”—was a powerful crime boss and bookmaker. He initially served as an enforcer for Madame Stephanie St. Clair, the "Queen of the Numbers Rackets,” and famously fought a turf war against Jewish mobster Dutch Schultz for control of illegal gambling operations in Harlem. Following Schultz's murder in 1935, Johnson forged a crucial alliance with Italian mob boss Charles "Lucky" Luciano. This partnership established Johnson as a primary associate within the organization that would eventually become the Genovese crime family. After more than forty arrests throughout his lifetime, Johnson was incarcerated on Alcatraz between 1952 and 1963 for drug conspiracy charges.

ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ

Alcatraz—with its geographic isolation, high concentration of violent offenders, and brutal living conditions—achieved infamy as America’s most feared penal institution. This caustic environment relentlessly tested the psychological resilience of its inmates. Some were driven insane, while others aspired for escape. Throughout its 29-year operational history as a federal penitentiary, Alcatraz witnessed fourteen documented escape attempts involving a total of 36 men. Officially, no inmate successfully escaped from the island; however, five individuals remain listed as “missing and presumed drowned.”

The first escape attempt was made by Joseph “Dutch” Bowers, who, by all accounts, did not acclimate well to life on Alcatraz. Following a suspected suicide attempt, the prison physician dismissed the incident as "theatrical" and diagnosed Bowers with an "ugly disposition." Staff frequently questioned the authenticity of Bowers' distress, suggesting he was feigning mental disturbance to secure a transfer or better treatment. Though numerous incidents of self-harm—such as Bowers repeatedly striking his head against cell doors—prompted requests for reevaluation, the prevailing medical opinions remained unchanged.

On April 27, 1936, while working at the garbage incinerator, Bowers attempted to scale a chain link fence along the island’s western perimeter. Despite repeated warnings from correctional officers, Bowers persisted and was consequently shot in the chest. Severely wounded, Bowers toppled down a sixty-foot embankment and died from his injuries. The controversy surrounding Bowers' true motive—a genuine escape attempt or calculated suicide—is fueled by his history of mental instability and the attempt’s improbability of success.

The first “successful” escape from Alcatraz occurred on December 16, 1937, when Theodore Cole and Ralph Roe vanished from the Model Industrial Building. Over several weeks, the two men had filed through the flatiron bars covering a window near their workstation. Under cover of dense fog, they plunged into the treacherous tides of San Francisco Bay, never to be seen again. After an intensive search, the FBI concluded that the two escapees most likely drowned while trying to swim ashore—their bodies carried out to the Pacific Ocean with the powerful ebb tide.

On the afternoon of May 23, 1938, another daring escape was launched by convicts Thomas Limerick, Rufus “Whitey” Franklin, and James C. Lucas. After completing their shifts at the woodworking shop, the three men—discreetly armed with lead weights and iron tools—encountered Royal C. Cline, an unarmed custodial officer whom they savagely assaulted. The bloodthirsty trio then attempted to disarm correctional officer Harold Stites, who was stationed in the roof tower. Stites opened fire, killing Limerick and wounding Franklin. Lucas surrendered without further incident. Officer Cline died the following day. Lucas and Franklin received life sentences for his murder.

THE BATTLE OF ALCATRAZ: MAY 2 – 4, 1946

The oppressive monotony of Alcatraz Island slowly consumed Bernard Coy, a 46-year-old Kentucky bandit serving 26 years for armed robbery. Driven by an unrelenting desire for freedom, Coy sought opportunity for escape. As a “model inmate,” he worked as a cellhouse orderly, which afforded him considerable freedom of movement around the prison. The ever-observant Coy surveilled the penitentiary’s security protocols and guards’ habitual routines, allowing him to identify vulnerabilities in "The Rock's" seemingly inescapable reputation. Armed with this accumulated information, Coy carefully concocted what would become the most violent escape attempt in Alcatraz’s history.

On May 2, 1946, an inauspicious series of events unfolded against the backdrop of routine prison labor. Coy was polishing the main cellblock floor under the supervision of two correctional officers: Burt Burch, stationed in the gun gallery, and William Miller, who conducted foot patrol. When Officer Burch briefly left his post to survey D Block, inmate Marvin Hubbard simultaneously entered the cellblock, requesting access to his cell after completing his kitchen duties. As Miller conducted a mandatory pat-down of Hubbard for contraband, Coy ambushed the unsuspecting guard from behind. Hubbard immediately joined the attack. Together, the two convicts incapacitated Officer Miller and confiscated his key ring, releasing fellow conspirators Joseph Cretzer and Clarence Carnes in the process.

Coy hastily stripped naked, covered himself in grease, and scaled the exterior cage of the unstaffed gun gallery. Using a makeshift bar-spreader, he successfully pried the ceiling grate open and slipped inside. When Burch returned to his post, Coy struck him with a riot club and used the officer’s necktie to strangle him unconscious. Seizing several firearms, Coy tossed them down to his awaiting accomplices.

Coy continued into D Block, where he compelled the on-duty officer, Cecil Corwin, to unlock the door connecting the isolation ward with the main cellblock. This action released approximately a dozen inmates, most notably Sam Shockley and Miran Thompson, who subsequently joined Coy, Carnes, Hubbard, and Cretzer in the breakout attempt. The remaining prisoners returned to the security of their respective cells.

Six additional officers were apprehended during the armed insurrection. The convicts corralled these hostages into two separate cells, intending to leverage their lives in exchange for safe passage from Alcatraz.

Having successfully secured the cellblock, the fugitives’ next objective was the recreation yard, which provided a direct route to the wharf. But none of the keys unlocked the stubborn cellhouse door. Unbeknownst to the desperate men, Officer Miller had concealed the correct key within his holding cell's toilet. After multiple failed attempts, the tumbler irrevocably jammed. With his intended exit now an impenetrable steel wall, Coy’s escape plan began to crumble.

In a violent rage, Coy opened fire against officers stationed in adjacent watchtowers, wounding one. Subsequently, at the urging of Shockley and Thompson, Cretzer unloaded his revolver into the hostages’ holding cells. Five officers were wounded, including William Miller, who later died of his wounds. Sensing overwhelming odds, Shockley, Thompson, and Carnes retreated to their cells while Coy, Cretzer, and Hubbard continued their frantic fight.

Sirens echoed across San Francisco Bay, alerting residents of the developing situation on Alcatraz. Every off-duty correctional officer was instantly mobilized to regain control of the penitentiary. Recognizing the urgency of the situation, prison officials requested outside military aid. The U.S. Coast Guard promptly instituted a naval blockade around the island, while thirty Marines from nearby Treasure Island Naval Station were dispatched to contain the remaining prison population.

Back at the Administration Office, Warden Johnston attempted to maintain some stoic resolve amidst the palpable volatility. After convening with his lieutenants, Johnston deployed tactical units to rescue the captive guards and crush the prisoner rebellion. The moment of confrontation arrived at 5 pm, when a specialized strike team stormed the west gun gallery. They were immediately greeted with a barrage of gunfire from the roof of C Block. Four officers were wounded during this initial assault. Tragically, one veteran officer, Harold Stites—who had helped stop a previous escape attempt in May 1938—was accidentally killed by friendly fire. The circumstances remained dire at 5:45 pm, when Warden Johnston telegraphed the Bureau of Prisons: “Our situation is difficult and precarious. Our officers are all being used in every place that we can man. The armed prisoners on the island are still eluding us so that at the moment we cannot control them.”

Shortly after 10:00 p.m., Associate Warden E.J. Miller spearheaded another critical push into the embattled cellhouse. One of his officers, Ernest Lageson, managed to secure the D-Block access door, but was immediately struck in the shoulder by gunfire. When the wounded Lageson reached safety, the remaining officers opened a massive, albeit misdirected, fusillade against D Block, mistakenly assuming the armed inmates were barricaded within. Upon realizing their mistake, the officers suspended their assault to devise a more coherent strategy. During this brief ceasefire, several officers successfully located and liberated their captured comrades. Slowly, inexorably, the tide turned. Within several hours, correctional staff had reestablished control of both gun galleries.

On the morning of May 3, military personnel deployed teargas and unleashed a hailstorm of bullets lasting over nine hours. Fragmentation grenades were dropped through ventilation shafts and holes drilled in the main cellblock ceiling. Meanwhile, rifle grenades slammed into D block. The concussive force of ordnance inflicted significant structural damage and ruptured the plumbing system, swiftly inundating the lower tiers of D Block. Amidst the intense bombardment, prisoners scrambled for inadequate cover behind waterlogged mattresses.

Around 12:00 pm, the armed convicts phoned Warden Johnston seeking to negotiate a deal; however, Johnston was uncompromising. He stubbornly rejected any form of negotiation and demanded their unconditional surrender. In response, Cretzer asserted that he would never be taken alive—an unmistakable prelude to a bloody, final stand.

On May 4, armed officers breached C Block, firing ferociously into its narrow utility corridor. At approximately 9:40 am, the lifeless bodies of Coy, Cretzer, and Hubbard were discovered, bringing this harrowing, two-day affair to a violent close. The remaining three participants—Carnes, Thompson, and Shockley—were apprehended alive.

The Battle of Alcatraz resulted in five fatalities—two correctional officers and three inmates—and left eighteen others wounded. The surviving conspirators were tried and convicted for the deaths of William Miller and Harold Stites. Sam Shockley and Miran Thompson were executed in the San Quentin gas chamber on December 3, 1948, while Clarence Carnes—who was only nineteen years of age—was issued a second life sentence.

THE GREAT ESCAPE: JUNE 11, 1962

By the early 1960s, Alcatraz had devolved into a derelict penal institution. The island’s remoteness—the very feature that made it so formidable—proved to be a significant liability. The logistical complexities of maintaining the penitentiary were so severe that its financial expenditures were nearly three times those of any other facility. Furthermore, the Bureau of Prisons determined that Alcatraz required multimillion-dollar repairs to remain operational, an investment the federal government was unwilling to authorize. Alcatraz teetered on the verge of obsolescence until one final, defiant act transformed its notorious narrative.

In January 1962, three inmates—Frank Morris and brothers John and Clarence Anglin—discovered an unguarded utility corridor within Cellblock B, only accessible through the narrow ventilation ducts beneath their sinks. Recognizing this alarmingly simple structural flaw, the men meticulously strategized its exploitation. They began chiseling away salt-corroded concrete around the vent openings using sharpened spoons and an electric drill improvised from a stolen vacuum motor. Most of this excavating occurred during music hour, when the amateur din of prisoner-played instruments effectively masked their handiwork. The convicts also installed false walls of painted cardboard, concealing their progress from guards during inspection.

Once the ducts were sufficiently widened, the trio ascended to the unoccupied cellblock roof, where they assembled a makeshift raft and life preserves from more than fifty raincoats. Accompanying paddles were fashioned from wood scraps scavenged from the recreation yard. Yet, the most audacious and essential component of their breakout was the creation of crude dummy heads. These busts—sculpted from a papier-mâché-like mixture of soap, toothpaste, concrete dust, and toilet paper—achieved an uncanny realism thanks to beige maintenance paint and human hair collected from the barbershop floor.

On the night of June 11, Morris and the Anglin brothers initiated their daring escape plan. Immediately following the lights-out signal, they deployed their decoys and infiltrated the utility corridor. However, a fourth conspirator, Allen West, encountered an unforeseen complication. The cement he used to secure his ventilation grate had hardened, narrowing the aperture and trapping him in his cell. Undeterred, the three fugitives pressed on, silently climbing three stories to the roof. They descended an exterior stove pipe and slipped into San Francisco Bay with their raincoat raft, never to be seen again.

The following morning at 7:15 am, the wake-up bell clamored through the concrete corridors of Alcatraz. During a routine inspection of Cellblock B, correctional officers Lawrence Bartlett and Bill Long noted the suspicious stillness of Clarence Anglin in his cot. Officer Long attempted to rouse the seemingly sleepy prisoner, only for a papier-mâché head to tumble lifelessly to the floor. This chilling discovery exposed the inconceivable prison break, launching one of the largest manhunts in American history.

The immediate aftermath of the escape yielded several crucial artifacts—including a paddle, raft debris, and a waterproof pouch—all recovered in the vicinity of Angel Island and the Golden Gate Bridge. The pouch’s contents, specifically Anglin family photographs and an address book, conclusively corroborated its connection to the fugitives.

On July 17, the Norwegian Freighter SS Norefjell discovered a body floating twenty miles northwest of the Golden Gate Bridge. Though severely bloated and sun-bleached, the corpse was clothed in full-length denim trousers resembling a prison-issue uniform. However, San Francisco County Coroner Henry Turkel swiftly dismissed any connection with the Alcatraz escapees, citing the low probability of a body surviving a month adrift in the Pacific Ocean's tumultuous currents. He instead proposed that the remains likely belonged to Cecil Phillip Herrman—a 34-year-old unemployed baker who had jumped from the Golden Gate Bridge five days earlier.

The FBI formally concluded its investigation in December 1979; however, the case officially remains open under the U.S. Marshals Service. The bureau’s final report posits that the three prisoners—Frank Morris, John Anglin, and Clarence Anglin—most likely drowned in the frigid currents of San Francisco Bay, deeming it improbable that they survived the challenging 1.25-mile swim to shore. Nevertheless, this enigmatic escape achieved international notoriety and pop culture immortality with the 1979 film, Escape From Alcatraz, and remains one of America’s most compelling unsolved mysteries.

Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary officially closed on March 21, 1963. The final Bureau of Prisons report underscored the institution’s legacy, stating that Alcatraz "served an important purpose in taking the strain off the older and greatly overcrowded institutions in Atlanta, Leavenworth, and McNeil Island since it enabled us to move to the smaller, closely guarded institution for the escape artists, the big-time racketeers, the inveterate connivers and those who needed protection from other groups." On April 12, the Department of Justice formally relinquished Alcatraz Island to the General Services Administration as “Excess Real Property.”

THE OCCUPATION OF ALCATRAZ: NOVEMBER 20, 1969 – JUNE 11, 1971

"In the name of all Indians...we reclaim this island for our Indian nations. We feel this claim is just and

proper, and that the land should rightfully be granted to us for as long as the rivers run and the sun shall

shine. We hold the Rock!"

- Richard Oakes, 1969

In 1953, Congress enacted the Termination Policy—a legislative doctrine explicitly designed to assimilate Native Americans into mainstream society—which systematically dismantled the federal trust relationship, dissolved reservations, and unilaterally rescinded the recognition of tribal sovereignty. The underlying assimilationist agenda was further compounded by the Indian Relocation Act of 1956, which incentivized Indigenous populations to move to burgeoning metropolitan regions for better employment opportunities. Consequently, thousands of displaced Native Americans migrated to the Bay Area, establishing community organizations and cultural centers around Oakland and the Tenderloin District of San Francisco.

When Alcatraz closed in 1963, the island became surplus government property managed by the General Services Administration. This status quickly drew the attention of Native American activists seeking to reclaim ancestral lands. On March 9, 1964, five Sicangu Lakota Indians—led by Belva Cottier and her cousin, Richard McKenzie—staged a four-hour, symbolic landing on Alcatraz. They proclaimed the abandoned island “Indian Land” by invoking the 1868 Fort Laramie Treaty. Though initially drafted to establish the Great Sioux Reservation, the treaty’s provisions were broadly interpreted, providing a legal basis for all Native Americans to reclaim decommissioned government property. However, the U.S. Attorney General promptly rejected the group's "unfounded” assertion.

On October 29, 1969, a fire destroyed the San Francisco American Indian Center—a vital resource that provided employment, healthcare, and social services to the city’s disadvantaged Native American population. This loss, compounded by longstanding injustices perpetuated by the U.S. government, spurred activists to seek a new, permanent space for their community.

On November 9, 1969, a group of fourteen Native Americans, led by 27-year-old Richard Oakes, landed on Alcatraz. Though forcibly removed after only nineteen hours, the participants publicly aired their grievances and symbolically claimed the island on behalf of their activist group, the “Indians of All Tribes” (IAT). Galvanized by the Red Power Movement’s mounting momentum, Oakes recognized the potential for a sustained, impactful protest. He returned to Alcatraz on November 20 with a group of 89 Indigenous activists, most of whom were college students. This defiant demonstration launched the Occupation of Alcatraz—the longest continuous Native American takeover of a federal facility in United States history.

Government officials initially demanded that the occupiers vacate Alcatraz Island and attempted to sever their supply lines with a largely ineffective floating barricade. Eventually, federal agents entered formal negotiations with protest organizers. The occupiers sought the deed to Alcatraz to establish a Native American university, cultural center, and museum. Government authorities declined these terms and counteroffered less-substantive compromises, such as renaming the island or erecting monuments to honor Indigenous figures; however, these tokenistic proposals were inadequate for achieving self-determination and ultimately rejected by the Native American representatives. With diplomatic discussions deadlocked, the federal government adopted a non-interference strategy, anticipating the protest’s intrinsic collapse.

At first, the Occupation was widely popular, inspiring an upswell of enthusiasm and support. Thousands journeyed to Alcatraz as a contemporary pilgrimage, with the island’s population briefly exceeding four hundred people. However, this initial idealistic unity began to fracture under internal discord and external pressures.

The movement reached a tragic turning point on January 5, 1970, when Richard Oakes’ thirteen-year-old stepdaughter, Yvonne, died after falling down a three-story stairwell. This devastating personal loss prompted Oakes' immediate and unexpected departure from the island, creating a divisive leadership vacuum that decentralized the Occupation’s objectives and organizational structure. That same month, as the initial cohort of college students returned to their studies, a second wave of non-Indigenous participants arrived—including numerous eccentrics associated with the hippie and psychedelic drug countercultures—which further complicated the movement’s focus and cohesion.

In late May, efforts to end the Alcatraz Occupation intensified when federal authorities shut off the island’s electrical power and suspended its freshwater barge service. Within a week of these sanctions, on June 1, a devastating fire broke out. The flames consumed several of Alcatraz’s historic buildings, including the lighthouse keeper's home, Officers' Club, warden's house, recreation hall, and former Coast Guard quarters. While government officials immediately blamed the destruction on the protesters’ negligence, the Indigenous occupants contended that the fire was deliberately set by undercover government infiltrators to undermine public support for their cause.

By 1971, the Occupation faced dire straits. Mounting economic pressures compelled some activists into desperate measures, such as stripping and selling copper fittings from the island's dilapidated structures. Simultaneously, the once-sympathetic press began publishing sensationalized stories of violence and lawlessness on Alcatraz, which dissuaded public support. Most of the occupiers departed voluntarily as donations dwindled and living conditions grew more untenable. The nineteen-month occupation officially ended on June 10, when armed federal agents forcibly removed the remaining fifteen individuals from the island.

While ultimately unsuccessful in achieving its immediate objectives, the Occupation of Alcatraz served as a powerful catalyst for policy change. The movement galvanized Native American activism nationwide and helped dismantle the profoundly damaging Termination Policy. In the years the followed, the federal government adopted a new philosophy rooted in self-determination, which recognized and protected tribal sovereignty, communal lands, distinct cultures, and collective identities.

VISITING ALCATRAZ ISLAND

Alcatraz endures as a globally acclaimed historic destination, attracting millions of visitors each year. Since 1973, this iconic landmark has operated within the Golden Gate National Recreation Area as an open-air museum and cultural heritage site. The island’s striking state of controlled decay offers tangible interpretations into its history as a coastal fortress, military prison, federal penitentiary, and power symbol of Native American activism.

Alcatraz City Cruises exclusively provides transportation to Alcatraz Island. Their ferry services operate from Pier 33 on the Embarcadero, with the journey across San Francisco Bay lasting approximately fifteen minutes. Due to exceptionally high demand, prospective tourists are strongly encouraged to secure tickets several weeks in advance.

Alcatraz Island features a vast collection of historic structures and interpretive exhibits that detail its compelling legacy, architecture, and natural environment. The first notable historic structure is Building 64—a reinforced concrete barrack (c. 1905) built upon Civil War-era bombproofs. While originally intended to quarter soldiers, the Bureau of Prisons later converted the facility into residential apartments to accommodate correctional officers and their families. Today, the building’s ground floor houses the Dock Ranger Station and a bookstore.

Following the East Road, visitors enter through the Sally Port and proceed past the Guardhouse. Completed in 1859, these are two of the island’s oldest surviving structures. The Guardhouse is particularly significant, as its basement once held Alcatraz's first military prisoners. This adaptation fundamentally transformed the site from a coastal fortification into a dedicated detention facility, ultimately foreshadowing its later, more infamous role as a maximum-security federal penitentiary.

The crumbling ruins of the “Officers’ Club” stand at the intersection of the Cellhouse and New Industries paths. Between 1910 and 1933, this building functioned as the Post Exchange—the military prison’s general store, cafeteria, and post office. When Alcatraz became a federal penitentiary, the space was repurposed by prison staff and their families, becoming a social center for parties, dances, and other communal gatherings. Continue down the New Industries Path to view the Quartermaster Warehouse (c. 1921) and Power Plant (c. 1912).

Situated precariously along the northwestern perimeter of the island, the Model Industries Building (c. 1922) served as a space where “model inmates” could exercise work privileges. This multifunctional facility housed a vocational training program, packing plant, blacksmith shop, industrial laundry room, and rehearsal area for the prison band. However, when the Bureau of Prisons assumed jurisdiction over Alcatraz, officials immediately expressed concern about the building’s irregular layout, aging construction, and lack of modern security measures. These inherent issues were exacerbated in 1935 when a severe storm triggered a landslide, leaving the structure dangerously close to the cliff’s edge. Between 1939 and 1941, the federal government allocated $1.1 million for redevelopment on Alcatraz, which included construction of the New Industries Building.

The New Industries’ workshops became highly productive during World War II. Amid widespread wartime labor shortages, many federal and state prisons were contracted to manufacture essential military goods like uniforms, cargo nets, and field jackets. Alcatraz inmates even repaired steel flotation buoys that supported anti-submarine nets below the Golden Gate Bridge. In exchange for their labor, inmates received modest wages ($0.05 to $0.12 per hour) and sentencing deductions.

After exiting the New Industries Building, visitors should return to the Cellhouse Path and begin their ascent. Along this rise, the iconic Water Tower commands attention—it exterior emblazoned with political graffiti left by Native American activists during the Occupation of Alcatraz. Adjacent to this landmark is the less conspicuous Morgue (c. 1910), which constructed at the entrance of a Civil War-era gunpowder magazine.

Lining the cliffside are the evocative remnants of Officers' Row—the foundations of three Victorian-style homes built for Alcatraz’s commanding officers and their families. Following their demolition in 1941, residents and inmates alike transformed these crumbling substructures into vibrant gardens—a sharp contrast to the island’s otherwise austere landscape. The Cellhouse Path culminates at the ruins of the Warden’s House, dramatically positioned against the backdrop of the San Francisco skyline. Built in 1921, this fifteen-room, three-story mansion once represented the pinnacle of domestic luxury on Alcatraz. Today, it has been reduced to a mere concrete trellis, slowly being consumed by the surrounding garden’s thriving vegetation.

Rising above these ruined residences is the second Alcatraz Island Lighthouse (c. 1909). A dominant architectural feature, this 84-foot octagonal tower remains an active navigation aid, safely guiding ships through the treacherous waters of San Francisco Bay. The original lighthouse—the first navigational light established on the West Coast—was constructed in 1854 to address the increased maritime traffic from the California Gold Rush. While this trailblazing beacon survived the 1906 San Francisco Earthquake, it was decommissioned and ultimately razed when the new concrete cellhouse obstructed its guiding light.

The journey through Alcatraz concludes inside the Main Cellhouse. Upon entering this formidable structure, the daunting scale of its cell blocks is immediately apparent. Throughout the Cellhouse, curated displays—featuring restored cells, prisoner artifacts, and informational placards—chronicle the island’s operational years as a federal penitentiary. To fully appreciate Alcatraz’s complex history, visitors are highly encouraged to take the “Doing Time” Audio Tour. This critically acclaimed, 35-minute program incorporates first-hand accounts from formerly incarcerated individuals, correctional officers, and their families, providing a nuanced and resonant understanding of “The Rock.”

WELCOME TO “HELLCATRAZ”

The exceptionally grim history of Alcatraz Island cements its reputation as one of America’s most haunted destinations. Since its initial development, Alcatraz has been characterized by a foreboding and sinister atmosphere. Prison guards, hardened inmates, and contemporary visitors alike have reported inexplicable paranormal phenomena. Unexplained noises and disembodied voices frequently disrupt the island’s fragile silence, while sudden cold spots and shadowy apparitions manifest within the penitentiary’s desolate corridors. These ghostly encounters and harrowing legends collectively sustain the captivating mystique that shrouds Alcatraz.

The main cellhouse harbors some of the most paranormally active locations on the island. C-Block, in particular, is reportedly haunted by the tormented spirits of Bernard Coy, Joseph Cretzer, and Marvin Hubbard—inmates who perished during the infamous “Battle of Alcatraz.” Another domineering presence is that of “The Butcher” Abie Maldowitz—a mob hitman who met his untimely demise in the laundry room.—whose mischievous ghost enjoys slamming heavy cell doors late at night.

Cellblock D, once reserved for Alcatraz’s most violent offenders, is widely considered the penitentiary’s most haunted section. Cell 14D is particularly malevolent. Its chilling legend dates back to the 1940s, chronicling the fate of an unruly prisoner thrust into the dark, damp space for solitary confinement. He immediately descended into panic, desperately claiming that a menacing creature with “glowing red eyes” threatened to kill him. His frantic pleas and terrified screams echoed relentlessly throughout the block, deliberately ignored by the correctional officers outside. Then, just before dawn, an unnerving silence fell. When the guards finally inspected the cell, the convict lay dead on the cold concrete floor—a horrific expression frozen on his face with distinct finger impressions around his throat. An autopsy confirmed strangulation, explicitly ruling out self-infliction. An internal investigation cleared the on-duty guards, but their exoneration only deepened the mystery, strongly implicating a supernatural cause for the prisoner’s demise.

The fire-damaged frame of the Warden’s House stands as an enduring fixture of Alcatraz’s paranormal lore. For decades, this ruined residence has been a spectral focal point, fueling tales of its haunted past. One particular story recalls a Christmas party where the festive conviviality was sharply interrupted by a apparitional anomaly—a man dressed in antiquated gray clothes, seemingly pulled from the nineteenth century. The phantom vanished as quickly as he appeared, followed by an icy gust of wind that extinguished the roaring fireplace, plunging the room into unnerving darkness.

Another ghostly presence is the melancholic “Lady in Green.” Though details of her earthly life remain sparse, legend suggests she was the wife of a former warden who tragically committed suicide on the island. Her somber spirit now frequents the laundry room; a location perhaps tied to her domestic routine or final moments.

An insidious sense of desolation still haunts Alcatraz, even as thousands of daily visitors swarm its shores. The stark contrast between The Rock’s notorious past—synonymous with stringent discipline and high-profile offenders—and its current state of silent decay is eerily unsettling. Decades after its closure, Alcatraz maintains a chilling presence, not merely as a historic site, but an active repository for the paranormal, stoking the fiery mythos of American criminology.