by David Ward
It has been emphasized in this chapter that the solitary, almost monastic nature of existence at Alcatraz was intended to control inmates, not rehabilitate them. But is it possible that despite official intentions, keeping inmates isolated from the outside world, allowing them very few material goods, and requiring them to spend long hours alone had unforeseen positive consequences?
This possibility would not sound farfetched to the thinkers of the eighteenth century who considered the problem of the lawbreaker in society and put in place the foundations of the progressive penal philosophy that has shaped American penal policy for more than two centuries. In the early penitentiaries that arose from their theories, it was believed that solitary confinement, combined with religious instruction, would help produce self-reflection, guilt, and a determination to sin no more. In this way, imprisonment, while unpleasant and even painful, would be rehabilitative. Relating literature to prison reform in the late 1700s, John Bender points out the central importance of solitude and contemplation in this formulation and cites the classic popular novel Robinson Crusoe as an example. Crusoe was an idle, heavy-drinking hellrake who refused a place in his father’s business and struck out on his own. After a series of adventures, including being a slave, he is shipwrecked and cast up alone on a desolate island—a kind of solitary confinement. Separated from normal existence, Crusoe thinks with clarity for the first time. Reviewing his entire life, he transforms the despair of solitude into remorse and then resolve. Bender explains how this story works to put incarceration in a positive light:
Prison, now equated with solitary reflection, is first viewed as negative, random, punitive, vengeful; but it slides into another thing entirely—something salubrious, beneficent, reformative, and productive of wealth and social integration.33
Bender sees the equation of incarceration with solitary reflection as the basis of a “mythology of reform,” but when a prison is organized in such a way that austere solitude becomes a dominant feature—as it was at Alcatraz—it is difficult to completely disregard the possibly redemptive aspects of solitude and isolation.
The question of how the monastic mode of existence that prevailed on the Rock may have contributed to the unexpected “rehabilitation” of many gangster-era convicts will be explored in part 3. For now, it should be noted that the absence of visual and auditory stimuli on Alcatraz and the many hours spent in quiet contemplation were cited by many convict interviewees as important factors in their decisions to end their criminal and prison careers.
5
ORGANIZED RESISTANCE
A Regime Tested
THE FIRST STRIKES
The answer came early to the question of whether a large custodial force could control a small group of trouble-prone prisoners confined to single cells with every element of daily life carefully regulated. The first shipments of prisoners from Leavenworth and Atlanta arrived on the island at the end of August and in early September 1934; organized inmate resistance came less than one month later, on October 1.
The protest began in the laundry, where inmates complained about the limitations on their privileges, particularly the denial of radio, movies, and newspapers. Warden Johnston received word that “the agitators would slug any prisoners who held out and perhaps wreck the laundry.”1 Johnston ordered that four convicts identified by guards as fomenting the unrest be locked in their cells, but at the end of the eight-minute morning smoking break, other “agitators” refused to return to their work posts. All of the laundry workers were promptly rounded up, marched back up to the cell house, and locked up. After questioning the entire crew, guards took twenty-one men to isolation cells. The remaining workers were allowed to leave their cells for the noon meal, after which they were told to return to their jobs; nine men refused and were taken to A block to join the first group of protesters. Since there were not enough isolation cells in this unit to accommodate thirty men, the more vociferous strikers were put in the barred alcoves below the floor of the main cell house—lower solitary, or what the prisoners called the dungeons.
Over the next four years lower solitary was used to house prisoners too loud and too insolent to be kept in the A and D block isolation cells. In addition to Leo McIntosh, Charlie Berta, John Messamore, and Clyde Hicks cited earlier, other dungeon residents in late 1934 and early 1935 included Edward Wutke from December 27, 1934, to January 4, 1935, for refusing to work, insolence, and “profanity”; and Edgar Lewis from December 31, 1934, to January 14, 1935, for refusing to work, insolence, and “cursing guards and the deputy warden.”
Charlie Berta was sent to lower solitary again on February 2, 1935, after being told by a guard to hurry his shower:
Berta squared off as if he wanted to fight and said in a loud tone of voice, “God damn it, if you want to fight, come on and put up your hands.” I marched the other inmates out of the bathroom and when they had gone, Berta again offered to fight not only myself but guards Faulk and Chandler. All the time this was taking place Berta was very insolent.2
No other dungeon cases were recorded during 1935, since no strikes were recorded during that year. But these cells came back into use in January 1936 when prisoners began another protest. Eight strikers, including those identified as ringleaders, were taken to the basement cells where they could talk to each other but could not communicate with the rest of the inmate population.
Harmon Waley, one of the Rock’s most obstreperous prisoners during the more than two decades he spent on the island, earned two trips to dungeon cells. His first, after being confined in an A block isolation cell for refusing to work, followed his refusal to stop singing in a loud voice, “they’ll hang Jim Johnston in a sour apple tree.” The disciplinary action taken against Waley was reported to Bureau of Prisons headquarters:
Waley was sent downstairs, that is to basement solitary . . . for insolence to the doctor . . . he would not work . . . and he was making noises to attract attention and disturb others in the cell house. It therefore became necessary to move him downstairs where he was kept until he promised to behave and was then moved back to regular solitary. [The entry in Waley’s file recorded his movement “from lower solitary to upper solitary D block.”]3
Waley returned to the dungeon on September 27, 1937, and remained there for thirteen days; on this occasion his offenses involved participating in a work strike and “creating a disturbance in the isolation section of the cell house.”
They took me down the stairway through D block floor, and across to the cells under A block. There appeared to be four or five cells with the old-time flat bars, as was in A block itself. None of the cells had toilet, water, sink, bed, or anything save a slop bucket, which they did not empty. They gave us the three slices of bread each morning, then every fourth day we got a small bowl of watery tomato soup, and I mean watery! There was no lights in the cells, and only one light, about 100 watts, in front of all four or five cells, it was pretty dark. The doctor came down every morning to see if there were complaints. Usually it was Hess or sometimes Beacher. Every morning and evening the guards gave us a drink of water. We wore slippers and coveralls, which we slept in since there were no blankets. The floors appeared to be rock or cement, the light was so bad it was hard to see for sure. We got fed up, and since they didn’t dump the slop buckets we threw the contents out into the corridor and started to urinate through the bars. Because of the stench the doctor refused to come down into the dungeon. No guards were stationed in the dungeon. We were down there fourteen or fifteen days, then back into D block. The dungeon cells that previously were under D block evidently had their bars scrapped for I saw none going over to the A side. James V. Bennett, head of the U.S. prison system, lied about the dungeon “not being used” to newsmen at the close of the Henry Young trial!4
Six other protesters in the work strike joined him in lower solitary (see table 2).
On September 11, 1937, Warden Johnston notified Bureau headquarters that J. Edgar Hoover had visited Alcatraz two day
s earlier with Clyde Tolson, Guy Hotte, and J. H. Rice (Hotte and Rice were FBI agents from San Francisco).
They arrived shortly after the prisoners had left the mess hall following the noon-day meal but in time to see the details lined up in the yard preparatory to going to their assignments in the work area. I then took them through the prison building, cell blocks, library, auditorium, kitchen, basement, bathhouse, hospital—in all of which they seemed to be interested.
Mr. Hoover seemed to be very keenly interested in our set-up, the routine, handling of prisoners and safety and protective measures. When they arrived, Mr. Rice had told me that they would like to go back on the boat leaving here at 3 PM and so I made that arrangement. . . . I was very glad indeed to have the opportunity of a visit from the group and Mr. Hoover expressed himself not only interested but pleased with all that he saw.5
According to Alcatraz records, inmate Jerry Cannon was in a basement cell at the time of Hoover’s visit. Johnston’s letter did not indicate whether Hoover’s tour included the cells there.
From October 1937 to June 1938, since no strikes occurred, the basement cells were not needed. George Sink, however, had the distinction of being sent to the dungeon on four separate occasions between June and December 1938. His periods of confinement were brief: June 4 to 5, July 9–11, July 22–24, and December 8–9. His rule infractions included
ALCATRAZ PRISONERS PLACED IN LOWER SOLITARY, 1934–38
Inmate
Dates of Confinement
Reason for Placement in Solitary
Leo McIntosh
9/8 to 9/28/34
For yelling to other inmates while in solitary
John Stadig
10/1 to 10/3/34
For circulating a petition
John Messamore
12/2 to 12/14/34
For “writing a letter . . . inferring an escape plot”
James Grove
12/3 to 12/14/34
Daring guard on wall to shoot him
Charlie Berta
12/3 to 12/15/34
For “sending out defamatory comments, agitating and promoting trouble, making slanderous remarks about guards and hollering at officers on the wall”
Clyde Hicks
12/3 to 12/4/34
For conveying a note from one prisoner to another
Edward Wutke
12/27/34 to 1/4/35
For refusing to work, insolence, and “profanity”
Edgar Lewis
12/31/34 to 1/14/35
For refusing to work, insolence, and “cursing guards and the deputy warden”
Charlie Berta
2/2 to 2/8/35
For insolence and challenging a guard to fight
Samuel Berlin
1/21 to 1/31/36
For “agitating” and participating in a strike
John H. Carroll
1/22 to 1/31/36
“He is one of the ring leaders in the strike and is a communist . . . while in solitary he kept hollering to other inmates . . . kept making insulting remarks to the guards and making personal challenges for them to come in and fight”
Lafayette Thomas
1/22 to 1/25/36
For “verbal attacks made to officers”
Jack Hensley
1/22 to 1/31/36
For “whistling, hollering, and creating unnecessary noise”
Frank McKee
1/22 to 1/31/36
“Due to personal verbal attacks made against officers”
Walter Beardon
1/22 to 1/30/36
In isolation, “he continued as one of the main agitators of the hunger strike, yelling at the top of his voice trying to get other prisoners to join in the strike”
Olin Stevens
1/22 to 1/30/36
“When he got down in the basement he said, ‘I’m not going any further.’ I put one hand on the seat of his pants and one hand on his collar and pushed him to his cell” [Lt. Miller]
John Donohue
1/24 to 1/30/36
“He was in D Block calling to someone in the dungeon in a very loud voice”
Harmon Waley
8/21 to 8/23/36
For singing in a loud voice
John Kulick
9/20 to 10/8/37
For being “a dangerous agitator . . . participating in strike . . . he urinated on the walkway outside his cell”
Walter Beardon
9/20 to 10/8/37
For “beating his pillow on the floor of his cell and yelling at the top of his voice trying to get other prisoners to join in the strike”
Jerry Kannon
9/20 to 10/2/37
For “agitating and creating a disturbance in the cell house . . . had his coveralls off and was beating the floor with them”
Richard Neumer
9/21 to 10/3/37
“At intervals of 45 minutes to an hour he would start clapping his hands, yelling, and whistling. This continued from midnight until 6 AM.”
Ludwig Schmidt
9/23 to 10/4/37
For insolence and making threats
Charles Bequette
9/24 to 10/5/37
“He wanted all the privileges that other prisoners had in other institutions”
Harmon Waley
9/27 to 10/10/37
For participating in a strike and “creating a disturbance in the isolation section of the cell house”
John H. Carroll
9/28 to 10/8/37
For participating again in a strike and for “trying to remove his toilet bowl from a wall in a solitary dark cell”
Bob Phillips
9/28 to 10/9/37
Agitating, yelling, creating a disturbance in isolation
George Sink
6/4 to 6/5/38
7/9 to 7/11/38
7/22 to 7/24/38
12/8 to 12/9/38
For various infractions
Frank Brownie
8 days [dates unknown]
“Agitating” [joining a work strike]
Source: Information abstracted from prisoner files.
Continuous hollering and agitating;
Causing commotion in the cell house by hollering and [for] his free use of obscene language directed at Warden Johnston. While being taken to lower solitary, Sink broke away from Lt. Starling and Jr. Officer Roberts as they entered through the basement door and ran about 20 feet. He picked up a window sash weight and threw it at Lt. Starling. Lt. Starling hit [Sink] with his gas billy [a heavy 9½-inch metal club with tear gas], which went off, the gas striking Sink in the face.
Making so much noise the Associate Warden [usually, “deputy warden”] could hear it while at his house eating dinner.6
George Sink was the last prisoner to be sent to lower solitary; his misconduct represented that mixture of disciplinary and mental health issues that characterized a small number of Alcatraz prisoners. After he accumulated twenty-nine disciplinary reports during a two-year period on the island, a neuropsychiatric board diagnosed him as “paranoid” and “psychotic”; he was transferred shortly thereafter to the Federal Medical Center at Springfield, Missouri, for treatment.
In June 1938 Warden Johnston described the problem in dealing with Sink’s disruptive behavior in a letter to Director James Bennett:
when in Solitary, he became very noisy and made repeated efforts to disturb all other occupants of the cell house. After consultation of the Associate Warden and Chief Physician, Sink was removed to the Hospital, but there he proved to be a disturbing factor, upsetting other patients and participating in two fights. Dr. Ritchey checked him out of the hospital and reported him as one who should be held to account and subject to disciplinary action.
The Associate Warden placed him in Open Cell, just for purposes of segregation, and gave him two meals a day. On the night of June 4, 1938, he began yelling and disturbing the occupants of other cells in the several cell blocks. . . . He was so resistant to all
appeals to keep quiet that the Lieutenant of the Watch sent for the Associate Warden. Failing to get Sink to stop, he finally removed him to the Basement Solitary.
When you are here on your next visit I would like to show you the Basement and have your advice concerning what alterations are advisable in order to make occasional use of the basement cells for just such instances as I have named above.7
Four years after the Bureau of Prisons took custody of the island, Johnston was still informing Bureau headquarters of the existence of, and need for, “the basement cells.”8
FROM LOWER SOLITARY TO
THE SPECIAL TREATMENT UNIT
Noise making was the primary offense that earned prisoners trips to lower solitary during the 1930s. No inmate involved in an escape plot or attempt or who assaulted or killed another prisoner or an officer was ever placed in the dungeon; even Burton Phillips, who attacked Warden Johnston in the dining room, was not confined to the most punitive accommodation on the island. The need for a newly designed disciplinary segregation unit separated by a solid concrete wall from the other cell blocks was answered by the remodeling of D block, which came after an attempted breakout in January 1939 by five prisoners. That escape plot clearly revealed the weakness in the A and D block isolation areas: the failure to install tool-proof bars to replace the old flat bars left over from the military occupation of the island had allowed prisoners to cut through the bars of their cells and the windows in D block and reach the waters of the bay.
