Recently, I toured the infamous Alcatraz prison facility in the San Francisco bay. This federal penitentiary went by many nicknames: “The Rock”, “The Really Large Pebble”, “Scamp Camp”, and “Motel 6/San Francisco.”
It was where “the worst of the worst” served the hardest of times. Al Capone, ‘Machine Gun’ Kelley, ‘Stabby’ McIntree, ‘Spit on Sidewalks’ Punlips– they all attended this Bad Boy U.
I walked into a cell in cellblock D and saw a small hole in the wall between the cot and the toilet. I caught a glimpse of yellow paper and reached in. It was some handwritten notes, memoirs of an unknown prisoner about his Alcatraz experience. I quickly tucked the papers into my pocket since extracting anything from a national park is probably illegal (that didn’t stop me from swiping a sequoia from Muir Woods). I reprint the entire content of the yellow pages here to expose the horrors of life in Alcatraz prison.
“April 3. Cold day. Last night I nearly froze to death. Requested an extra down comforter but the lousy guard refused. Gave me a heavy cotton blanket instead. Refused to tuck me in or tell a story. The sheets on this cot are like sandpaper. Thread count is 300–or less. No down pillow, either. How do they expect people to live like this?”
“April 12. Had a visit from the ol’ ball and chain with my kids. Bobbie’s growing like a weed. Pam’s almost tall as her mother (Alice is so competitive, she’s taken to standing on tippy toes). They were going to visit Coit Tower that afternoon. I asked the guard if I could join them– I’d come right back. I pinky promised, too. Guard said, ‘No.’ What a cruel bastard!”
“May 1. Sick of ‘The Birdman’– all he does is beg for bread then crap all over the place.”
“May 22. I swear I can’t take this place much longer. This morning, I ordered a Denver omelette with egg whites only. No dice. The stupid chef used whole eggs– yolks and all! My butt’s starting to look huge in my prison pants. It’s impossible to diet in here and these get-ups are hardly flattering. That does it, I’m letting myself go…”
“May 23. Chef has it in for me. Last night, I ordered my ribeye steak medium rare. I got it well done. The watercress in my salad was wilted and the candied walnuts were stale. My potatoes lyonnaise had a heavy peppering and the wine was pedestrian, at best. At least the cherries jubiliee were acceptable. How’s a guy supposed to live on this garbage?!”
“May 24. Enough! The dining situation here is unacceptable! For last evening’s service, the linen tablecloths were as yellow as a dog’s teeth. The candles were nubs. AND– I still can’t believe this– there were no crab forks for our shellfish– we had to use our salad forks!!! How much longer can I endure this living hell?!!”
“May 29. Bennie and Hank are planning an escape. Said they are going to build a tunnel from under their cell all the way to center field at Wrigley. They are idiots. Center field is way too exposed.”
“June 2. Bidet broken–AGAIN! If the water’s not too cold, it’s scalding. Now it’s busted all together. This place is hell with bad plumbing.”
“June 4. Got a manicure and pedicure today but my cuticles still look atrocious. Am starting to think the warden has it in for me.”
“June 8. Was an incident in the showers today. Manny ran out of conditioner and asked the guard for some. The guard said his hair looked fine– said it had good volume, a saucy bounce to it and appeared quite manageable. Manny’s been pouting ever since. He knows his hair is thin and requires body enhancement– he NEEDS conditioner. I swear these guards are sadists., to tell a man he has good hair when he himself knows he does not is absolutely criminal!”
“June 14. Asked guard if I could take a vacation– need a nice break and want to go to New York, catch some shows, try some new restaurants. Guard said he’d check with the warden. Got my fingers crossed…”
“June 15. Warden said NO to NYC trip! Unbelievable. Apparently it would kill them to let me take a little vacation. Can’t believe this joint. I swear, these people are so rigid it drives me nuts! I’m starting to think maybe I should join Bennie and Hank in their tunnel project…”
“June 18. Asked guard if I could get a pet for some companionship. What kind of pet, he asked. A pony, I said. He didn’t think it would be allowed. Now they apparently have a ‘no-pony-policy.’ Oh, the misery of this place…”