The Bureau of Prisons denounced Lancaster for helping to glorify the actions of a murderer and pledged to extend no support to the filming. Lancaster had also made attempts to visit Stroud and Former Correctional Officer Clifford Fish recalled an episode when Lancaster demanded that he be allowed to dock his yacht next to Alcatraz and meet Stroud in person. It was communicated to Lancaster that he would not be permitted to dock at Alcatraz and that if he approached without permission, his boat would be fired upon by tower guards. Reluctantly, Lancaster conceded.
The original director of the film was Briton Charles Crichton, but after only one month he was fired by Lancaster and replaced with John Frankenheimer. Lancaster had immersed himself in Stroud’s very complex character and the atmosphere on the set had taken on almost a symbolic significance; it was clear that this was the filming of a true epic. Lancaster would be forced to shave half of his head to accurately recreate the appearance of thinning hair and complicated makeup procedures were used to capture the effect of the aging process over time.
Burt Lancaster having makeup applied during the production of Birdman of Alcatraz.
Emotionally the filming was also very exhausting and taxing to the actors and film crew. In January of 1961, during the filming of the 1946 Alcatraz Riot at the Columbia studio, Burt Lancaster’s brother died suddenly of heart attack at the early age of fifty-five. It would prove to be an eerie and horrific scene, as the body was taken from the set on an ambulance stretcher. Despite this horrible tragedy, the crew continued filming through what would later be described as a surreal event. Guffey would later comment that it had almost felt like he was sitting in the middle of a real riot, as the actors were in a deeply emotional state following the death of Lancaster’s brother, John.
After the film was completed in February and following initial screenings and an unsuccessful editing, it was decided that the opening segments would need to be rewritten and re-filmed. Lancaster had made another commitment to film the movie Judgment at Nuremberg and would need to fulfill this obligation before returning to work on Birdman in May of 1961.
Birdman of Alcatraz finally premiered in April of 1962. Lancaster, Gaddis and Stroud’s attorney Stanley Furman, held press conferences at the various screenings, attempting to rally support for Stroud’s release. Lancaster sent personal letters inviting guests to special screenings of the movie, stating:
“... I would be delighted to discuss with you the inside details of an incredible epic story. The film, based on the life of the most defiant man I have ever read or heard about. Your understanding will begin when you read the enclosed material on Stroud the killer, convict, scholar, scientist. I am convinced that only by showing you the film personally and talking with you could you comprehend my deep involvement, emotionally and intellectually, with this man and his life.”
A personal invitation from Actor Burt Lancaster, inviting Bureau of Prisons Director James Bennett to a screening of Birdman of Alcatraz in 1962.
Critics declared Birdman of Alcatraz a masterpiece and Lancaster reined an Academy AwardÒ nomination for his portrayal of Stroud. Meanwhile, Stroud himself continued his legal battle for his own release. Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy had earlier issued a statement based on prior petitions and appeals, stating that he could not “in good conscience recommend to the President that it would be in the public interest that Mr. Stroud’s sentence be commuted.” But Stroud refused to give up, and by coincidence, his return to court coincided with the film’s release in Kansas City. Thomas Gaddis and Burt Lancaster attended the Kansas City hearing and for the first time, Stroud and Gaddis were able to briefly shake hands without exchanging words. This would be the only time the two would ever meet.
Stroud being led to court in Topeka, Kansas in 1959, to appeal his sentence.
Fellow prisoner Morton Sobell became a close friend of Stroud’s at Springfield. Sobell would later write that several of the other inmates hated Stroud because of his eccentric behavior. Stroud himself would never see the classic film that had shaped his character in the public eye. However, it was rumored that he was able to watch Lancaster receive his Academy Award® nomination on TV, as well as a short clip of Lancaster’s performance as the Birdman.
On the morning of November 21, 1963, Morton Sobell went to check on Stroud, who had failed to show up for their regular breakfast meeting in the small dining hall. Upon entering his cell, Morton discovered that Stroud had died peacefully in his sleep.
Stroud’s burial site at the Masonic Cemetery in Metropolis, Illinois. He is buried between his mother and his sister.
Stroud’s death was overshadowed in the national consciousness by the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and the local Metropolis Illinois newspaper contained only a brief editorial, reading in part:
Stroud, 73, was discovered dead at 5:45 a.m., at the center where Stroud had been confined for the past four years. Stroud was a former resident of Metropolis, and his sister, Mrs. Mamie Schaffer, still lives here. A brother, Lawrence Marcus of Honolulu, is the only other immediate survivor. Several cousins, nieces and nephews also survive him. Arrangements for the funeral are incomplete. The body will be brought to the Aikins Funeral home, and the services will be private. Prison officials said his death was due to natural causes.
At the time of his death Robert Stroud had spent over fifty-four years in prison, until then the longest federal prison sentence ever served. Throughout his prison term, he never once expressed any remorse for his killings and was said to have bragged to other inmates about the crimes he would commit if he were ever released back into society. Despite his external associations with affluent celebrities who believed he was no longer a threat, it is clear today that even some of his own peers looked upon Stroud as dangerous and unfit to return to society. One insight into Stroud’s character was buried deep in his inmate case file, in a letter he wrote March 1942, impounded by the mail room at USP Leavenworth. Stroud wrote:
"Regardless of what we think of Hitler, and I had his number, completely, back in the 20's, before he gained power even in Germany, he is the best possible illustration of the effectiveness of a fix purpose. For, regardless of his personal qualities, he has a very effective single-mindedness. And if I have one good quality, it is the same kind of single-mindedness."
During an interview conducted for this book, I asked former Alcatraz inmate Jim Quillen if he had any final opinions on Stroud and passed him an original copy of Stroud’s Digest on Bird Diseases. He asked me if I’d like him to sign it and rather than offer any spoken opinion, Quillen pulled out a pen and wrote a small inscription on the inside cover, which read: “Knew Bob Stroud and think he was a smart man but a psycho.” Perhaps the famed Public Enemy Number One and fellow inmate, Alvin Karpis said it best in his 1980 memoir chronicling his twenty-five years on Alcatraz. He simply wrote:
“... If I had the responsibility of deciding whether or not to release Robert Stroud I would have reached the same conclusion of the parole board.”
Alcatraz on Trial
The Life of Henri Young
(Author’s Note: There is a long running debate as to whether Young is correctly referenced as “Henri” or “Henry.” His inmate case file provides references to both, and most origin documents refer to him as Henry. However, Young signed his name as Henri, and his attorney James M. MacInnis also referred to him both verbally and in written form as Henri. As a result, he is referenced as Henri throughout this chapter.)
Henri Young
In 1941, the name Henri Young would saturate newspaper headlines, with stories portraying the prisoner as a casualty of the strict and unrelenting regimen on Alcatraz. Young’s trial for the murder of fellow inmate Rufus McCain quickly turned into a debate over the appropriateness of confinement practices on Alcatraz. In the end, Warden Johnston found himself on the witness stand defending his correctional staff against allegations of physical and psychological abuse.
The premise that Henri Young was in fact a non-vio
lent and passive inmate driven to murder by his years of confinement, allegedly in moldy and damp underground dungeons, was completely erroneous. In Warden Johnston’s personal memoir of his life at Alcatraz, he described Henri Young as an “alert, shrewd, intelligent, cunning, conspiring criminal with the exhibitionist’s desire to dramatize his position and relate his misdeeds.” Young’s inmate file contains an unpublished and unfinished autobiography that he penned after the trial. His memoir reveals a horrendously disturbed and deeply troubled life, with torrid tales of youthful crimes, sexual obscenities, and many painful memories. He claimed to have witnessed the brutal suicide of a relative at only thirteen years of age. Henri Young would become one of the most incorrigible inmates ever to reside on Alcatraz.
Henri Theodore Young was born in Kansas City, Missouri, on June 20, 1911. He described his own early life in a memoir he began writing during his years in prison:
I was born of Helen E. Young in Kansas City, Mo. Father David E. Young was present. Preceeding [sic] me by 2 years was one girl, Ruth E. Young. Additions were made to our family by one younger girl Naomi and one still younger boy David C. Young. This completes my family.
The true sequence of my earliest memories is hazy to me, but mother told me of fighting with a neighbor woman over some toys her boy and I had some trouble... Another time a cousin and I received a spanking for urinating in a garden. Then appears a ghastly white-faced boy who seemed delighted in eating caterpillars. This was repulsive.
We moved from Kansas City to northern Missouri. On a farm there father worked as a laborer. The owners and our family lived in one house. I one day drew a funny picture on the wall of the owners compartment in blue crayon. I would not admit to it. The woman owner was most gracious and I refused to become angry. Here was also a Negro woman cook from whom I would not accept food.
Father bought me a pony. This pony would head for his home each time I got on him. Mother came from a small stream dragging a turtle behind her on a rope, She cooked it. It was delicious. Our family moved from this place to a rickety old farm of our own. Once my uncle Bob whose farm was adjacent beat his horses terribly in full view of our farmhouse. I stood in the window and watched that, but God has been kind enough to obliterate all details of that horror... During hog killing time father became angry because his revolver would not shoot. He killed the hog with an axe. On the fence post nearby he placed the bladder of the hog commenting that “dried out it would make a good baby rattle”.
I was definitely hurt when my parents one night removed pigeons from the cote, killed them and made me hold their warm bodies. I feel that pain now...
Young’s memoir also indicates that his family lived in extreme poverty. It reveals that there were many mealtimes without enough food to go around the family table, that Henri only had one pair of trousers, and that he even had to wear his sister’s dresses while his mother washed his clothes. In one instance, he recalled spending time at an aunt’s impoverished home. He wrote that it was “filthy,” and that “hogs and chickens walked about inside the rooms.” To make matters worse, a war was raging within the walls of his family’s home. From his earliest childhood, his mother and father engaged into intense bouts of fighting. Henri recalled one fight so fierce that out of desperate fear he slept all night under the house. His aunt Amelia would later claim that Henri had learned his future trade of burglary through the encouragement of his father. His parents divorced when Henri was only fourteen, and during this period his school grades steadily declined until he ultimately failed nearly all of his courses. He later admitted to harboring deep resentment over his family’s breakup and his adult writings show that he was still troubled over the disintegration:
I loved mother, but then I hated her being so stately and elegant away from home to drop into a complacent attitude in our home. She had class, but would use it only on occasions, which threw her into painful blunders. Did she work to save that home? I know, know, know she did. But father, she did not know how to work. Neither did father. The marks of respect they should have observed were lacking. She hurt me often by denouncing my “false pride.”
When Henri was seventeen, his mother remarried. Her new husband, Ammie Payne, had six children from a previous marriage, two of whom Henri refers to as “blunted mentally.” This new marriage was extremely painful for Henri. He clearly adored his mother, and constantly referred to her kindness and immense beauty. But by his own admission, he carried a profound and unwarranted bitterness towards his new stepfather. There were ten children under one roof and Henri confessed that this caused him a feeling of shame and embarrassment. However, Ammie was in fact quite good to Henri. He taught him how to drive his car and worked hard at being a good role model – but Henri did not reciprocate. Instead, he began stealing Ammie’s tools and selling them cheaply for spending money. He also started spending more and more time away from home. He later would comment: “I seemed separated from my family.” He left home permanently at age nineteen.
After short stints of odd jobs, Henri and his friend Elmer Webb rode freight trains out west to California. Young toured the Pacific Corridor as a drifter, eventually joining a traveling carnival where he worked in an animal sideshow for a middle-aged English couple. He indicated that he liked the work, which consisted of helping with show preparations, setting up the tents and selling tickets. But after working for half a season, Henri lost interest in the carnival and started taking on odd jobs while continuing to rove westward. He worked for a brief stint cleaning fruit dying equipment and even spent time as a respected firefighter in Quincy, California.
On October 4, 1932, during an abrupt train stop in Miles City, Montana, Henri and his friend Elmer robbed a fellow drifter, leaving him tied and gagged in a boxcar. Two employees of the Pacific Railroad found the victim in a state of extreme hypothermia due to the near freezing weather. A 1935 police report describes how during his arrest, Young was asked if he had realized that the man could have frozen to death if the two workers hadn’t found him in time. He is quoted as stating: “He was a degenerate and I didn’t think it would have been any loss to humanity if he had...” Young was sentenced to serve a term of fifteen months at the Dear Lodge Penitentiary in Montana.
Henri was released from prison in June of 1933, only to be arrested again on October 9th . This time he was convicted of burglary in the State of Washington, and was sentenced to the Walla Walla Penitentiary for one year. Young served his time and was paroled on October 12, 1934. Only days after leaving prison, he obtained a gun and held up a man in the parking lot of the Pacific Hotel in Spokane, Washington. Young demanded that the man drive him to Cheney, where police spotted the car careening recklessly and gave chase. Young would make his first escape from the police in a hail of gunfire.
Young would take part in another kidnapping on October 26, 1934, when he and his accomplice Sherman Baxter, who he had met while incarcerated at the Montana State Penitentiary, abducted a man in Spokane. They drove their victim to a remote location in or near the town of Medical Lake, Washington, and proceeded to rob him. A beating him, they wired him to a tree, where he remained undiscovered until the following day. The duo painted their stolen car and drove to Portland, Oregon, where they picked up Jack Baker, a friend of Henri’s from his carnival days in California.
On November 2, 1934, the twenty-three-year-old Henri Young and his two accomplices robbed the First National Bank of Lind, Washington. During the hold up, Young forced cashier J.F. Gibson onto the vault floor while they searched for cash. The three men made off with $405.00 and were captured only 40 minutes later. In the arrest report, Young was described as being arrogant and boastful of his crime. The three young men stood trial and Henri’s accomplices were sentenced to serve 15 years at McNeil Island, while Henri was sentenced to 20 years. Young’s days of freedom had now come to a halt...
* * *
Prison life at McNeil was tough, and Young’s own accounts describe violent fistfights and forced sexual encounter
s. He quickly became known as a difficult inmate and on January 14, 1935, United States Attorney J.M. Simpson wrote to the Attorney General, pleading for Young’s transfer to Alcatraz. Simpson wrote:
I think Henry Young is the worst and most dangerous criminal with whom I’ve ever dealt, although I have prosecuted and hung two individuals on the charge of murder. Young’s record is bad. He served a term of 15 months in the penitentiary at Dear Lodge, Montana, for the crime of robbery. The circumstances were very brutal.
Four months later E.B. Swope, Warden of McNeil Island and future Warden of Alcatraz, wrote to the Director of the Bureau of Prisons, also advocating Young’s transfer to The Rock. Swope wrote that Young was “fomenting as much trouble as he possibly can.” He went on to describe Henri further:
I am sure that we are going to have more or less trouble with him. He is vicious, unscrupulous, and is a fomenter of trouble, but still has enough ingenuity to keep undercover. I would very much appreciate that if a transfer is going to be made, that it be done at an early date.
Alcatraz: A Definitive History of the Penitentiary Years Page 22