Alcatraz Screw by George H. Gregory

Author:George H. Gregory [Gregory, George H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780738558158
Barnesnoble:
Publisher: Arcadia Publishing SC
Published: 2008-06-04T00:00:00+00:00

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1 No one has been able to adequately explain how news can travel so fast in prisons in spite of efforts to keep information private. Prison grapevines seem to be very efficient and always in working order. In Alcatraz, the toilet plumbing line was the conduit used for communication.

12

Alcatraz and the Courts

Alcatraz hated to go to court. For some reason or other, no matter what the case was or how seemingly clear-cut the facts, it was not the inmate or inmates involved but Alcatraz itself that ended up being put on trial. In my long tenure at Alcatraz, I can think of only one inmate—and one officer—who was found guilty in the federal court of San Francisco.

San Francisco had a great dislike for Alcatraz. The general feeling was that the prison hurt the image of the city. Every time I heard this, I would smile weakly because I couldn't see how Alcatraz could affect the image of such a beautiful city. But perhaps this attitude influenced the decisions made in the courts.

The officer found guilty was a sorry person who had been hired off the street with no investigation and given very little training. He was caught bringing in some innocuous contraband to an inmate. Unimportant as it was, it was still illegal. The inmate immediately informed on the officer. Swope was the warden at the time and made a big issue of it. This fellow was convicted, and deservedly so.

The inmate who was convicted committed a most bizarre murder. It occurred in the barbershop as the result of a lovers’ quarrel. The killer was the barber for black inmates, Curly Thomas, and his victim was Joseph Barsock. When Curly was given the job of barber, several of us questioned the assignment. We knew a number of the other black inmates didn't like him and would resent his cutting their hair.

It is still not clear to me why Barsock was let out of his cell and allowed to go to the barbershop. He was not on the schedule for that day.

They were lovers, these two. Curly was older and smaller than Barsock. On this day, Curly took his scissors—a pair of long-bladed shears with sharp points—and, according to the report, shoved them into the carotid artery of his lover, who was sitting in the barber's chair. Barsock jumped out of the chair, ran a few steps, and fell. Curly knelt at the side of this man whose life was spurting away and began sucking up the blood and mumbling in his peculiar speech, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Meanwhile, I was having lunch in the officers’ mess. Selkirk, an inexperienced and naive officer, had just relieved me at the hospital. I had said jokingly as I left, “Well, Selkirk, I hope nothing happens today, but if it does I hope it happens while you're the hospital officer.”

When I returned from lunch it was to find a very pale and glassy-eyed Selkirk. Hurriedly opening the gate, he said, “You got your wish.

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