Alcatraz (70 page)

Machine Gun Kelly is one member of a committee of the better-known criminals in Alcatraz who meets me on the yard one day shortly after my arrival and attempts to caution me about being too friendly with the “common” criminals on the island. I tell him bluntly, “Go fuck yourself! I’ll talk to whoever I want. There’s only one way you spell ‘Big Shot’ in my dictionary, ‘
S-H-I-T
’!”

Ironically, Kelly spends most of his time down in the laundry entertaining new arrivals at Alcatraz with stories of his past adventures. This lasts until the new cons grow bored and begin avoiding him. But there are always new sets of ears arriving from outside who listen eagerly, awhile.
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Apart from his work as a baker and cook, Karpis spent time practicing his guitar and playing with the band; he corresponded with his mother and sister. He purchased several books seldom ordered by prisoners—a dictionary and world atlas; he subscribed to
Newsweek
and
U.S. News & World Report
and played bridge in the yard.

Karpis’s quiet existence was disrupted in April 1949 when a warrant was issued charging him with the murder of the sheriff in Missouri—a charge that had been hanging over his head for the thirteen years since he arrived at Alcatraz. The warrant not only raised the prospect that he might have to do state time after his federal sentence, but its filing precluded his consideration for parole and his deportation to Canada.
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This turn of events, according to a February 1952 staff report, “caused a fulminatory reaction which threatened the fairly satisfactory adjustment Karpavicz had developed during the recent years.” Karpis accused the Alcatraz record clerk of “conspiracy” because the clerk had sent a letter of inquiry to the sheriff in Missouri asking whether a detainer was to be filed in view of Karpis’s eligibility for federal parole. When United States Senator William Langer of North Dakota visited Alcatraz, Karpis was
allowed to meet with him to complain about what Karpis referred to as the actions of “petty and small time [federal] bureaucrats,” which gave Missouri authorities the opportunity to make trouble for him.

In March 1952 complaints from inmates about the quality of their meals prompted a Bureau of Prisons investigation that resulted in the replacement of the food steward and new rules that greatly limited the freedom of the kitchen crew. They could no longer make special items for themselves or function somewhat independently of the employees assigned to the kitchen. The inmate crew members were apprised of the new rules and asked if they would return to work under the new conditions. Karpis reacted with anger, claiming mass punishment was being applied to all workers “because of a few screw balls that messed up the detail.” It was reported that Karpis “has had enough of the culinary unit and would not go back to work. . . . Karpis is undoubtedly one of the ring leaders in opposition to orderly rules.”

Karpis was locked up in D block for refusing to work. About a month later a lieutenant reported that he was still “very indignant,” would not go to work in the kitchen “under any circumstances,” and was “satisfied to stay in [D block] for a year or more.” In May, while still in disciplinary segregation, Karpis was charged with “Mutinous Participation in Group Resistance to Duly Constituted Authority” for continuing to refuse to return to work in the kitchen.

The following October Karpis received good news. Howell County, Missouri, authorities had dropped the murder detainer, making him eligible for parole consideration. He declined to apply, however, knowing that an application from someone locked up in disciplinary segregation was unlikely to be regarded favorably. Despite the removal of the detainer, he was described in March 1953 as “bitter,” “cynical,” and “sullen,” an agitator who was looked on as a hero and leader by many inmates. “He has a ‘Big Shot’ complex,” concluded a report. “His adjustment of several years ago . . . has deteriorated.”

In May 1953, after the inmates in the shops began a work strike, Karpis stopped acting captain Emil Rychner in the cell house, told him he was acting as the inmates’ spokesperson, and offered to put an end to the strike if “some assurance was given that no good time would be taken” and if “the inmates in the Treatment Unit [D block] were returned to the regular population.” Rychner reported this proposal to the assistant warden, who advised the warden: “This is the first concrete indication of leadership since the work stoppage began. This inmate should be reported and punished.”
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The administration’s reaction to Karpis’s offer to act as a mediator was described by a senior officer:

We had a strike and one day Captain Rychner and I were standing in the back of the cell house B and Karpis came over to us. He said, “You know, I’ve got a lot of influence with these inmates that are out on strike. If you’d give me the chance I’ll go around and talk to all these inmates and I’ll use my influence and I think I can get ’em to come back to work—provided that certain things are taken care of in regard to their work.” Rychner and I thanked him and we turned around and walked out and got a hold of Associate Warden Delmore and Warden Swope and told them that we’d been propositioned. Delmore said “Write out a misconduct report on Karpis and throw him in segregation. So we wrote out the misconduct, walked back, and told Karpis, ‘Say Karpis, we’re sorry we can’t take you up on the proposal, but we will put you over in the segregation unit for an extended period.’ He was over there for two years.”
³⁸

Karpis described this episode rather differently. In his version, he encountered a lieutenant who said, “You’re pretty well known around here, Karpis. Everyone knows you aren’t afraid of the hole. You’re well respected. Why don’t you find out if there are any suggestions as to how we can square this thing. What do you guys want?” Karpis then talked with Arnold Kyle and several other “influential” convicts in the yard who argued that some men in D block not involved in the strike should be released. Karpis told the lieutenant he would give him a list of these men, but before it could be delivered he was brought before the disciplinary committee.
³⁹

Whether Karpis’s proposal was solicited by the staff or not, it was clear to inmates that Karpis had made a mistake. Morton Sobell, newly arrived at the time but quick to understand how the Bureau of Prisons operated, put it this way:

He pulled a stunt . . . he tried to play the big shot guy to the captain. “I think we can get this thing settled.” The Bureau of Prisons doesn’t like an inmate who thinks he has power to settle things. You would think they might welcome the chance to get the thing over with, but they were afraid of somebody establishing himself as a leader. . . . I was surprised—he had been in there so long and he should have known that he couldn’t do that . . . the other inmates laughed [at Karpis’s effort].
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The Alcatraz convicts themselves did not support any attempt by any prisoner to establish himself as their leader or spokesman; there were no convict bosses in this penitentiary.

Karpis was locked up in a closed-front cell, but he was allowed to send a letter to his sister, written, he said, while “lying on the floor flat on my stomach.” He told his sister: “Don’t worry I have no intention of throwing in the sponge. I am just as determined as I ever was. Don’t think for a minute that a day of reckoning isn’t going to come over all this stuff. . . . [The Republicans may be] like the Democrats . . . just don’t give a damn what happens in this place. To tell you the truth I don’t much care myself anymore.”

During his many months in D block, Karpis was allowed to work as a painter. In March 1954, when several prisoners began a hunger strike to protest the absence of full meals, desserts, and cigarettes, Karpis told them, “I told you the other night how I stood. I don’t want anymore f——ing around. It’s not worth it. I’m not getting into any more strikes. I’m not going to ruin my health for a piece of pie and a cigarette.” Karpis received little credit for refusing to join this strike because he was still “considered extremely dangerous” and was believed to exert “continued influence on a certain group of impressionable inmates.”
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In August 1954 Karpis was returned to the general population and assigned to work picking up and delivering library books. Six months later, a classification committee report noted that he was “serving his time with greater ease . . . and he has indicated a marked improvement in attitude and behavior.” The committee recommended his transfer to Leavenworth—a proposal that would not be approved by the Bureau for another three years. In the meantime, Karpis continued his good work record, wrote to his sister, played his guitar, and read many fiction and nonfiction books and magazines.

In February 1958 Karpis was transferred to Leavenworth, where he remained for only seven months before Bureau headquarters received an “urgent” request from Warden Chester Looney that he be returned to Alcatraz “as soon as possible.” Looney complained that soon after Karpis’s arrival at Leavenworth, complaints about the food began to be heard and it was suspected that Karpis was “an instigator.” Looney went on to characterize Karpis as a bad influence:

Karpavicz had an unusual interest in an escape plot that was uncovered here. He has always been able to control other inmates and cause them to create problems while he drops into the background. He had a tailor-made organization when he arrived here through the large number of inmates who have previously served time at Alcatraz . . . he is a menace in the population here.
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Warden Paul J. Madigan (a former lieutenant and captain at Alcatraz) talked to Karpis a few weeks after his return to the Rock to determine his attitude.

Strangely he does not seem bitter but he did say it was wonderful to be . . . where he could move around freely and go out to the big recreation yard. He also said he availed himself of the commissary and gorged himself on candy. . . . Karpis probably will fall into our routine again and get along well.
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Karpis went back to work in the library, then moved on to other work assignments in the industries office and in the clothing factory, quietly doing his time. He began corresponding with the director of the Catholic Rehabilitation Service in Montreal, Canada—the country to which he would be deported after his release from federal custody. Over the next several years, classification committees recommended that he either be returned to Leavenworth or be sent to Atlanta because he had an arthritic condition that might be less problematic in a warmer climate. In June 1961 the chairman of the U.S. Board of Parole met with Karpis, reviewed the positive reports of his conduct, and recommended that he be transferred to another prison “with the idea that he will perhaps be ready for parole after another two or three years.”
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Karpis’s complete conversion to law-abiding prisoner was noted in a September 1961 report that described him as having a “steadying influence” on other prisoners. Karpis was said to be

cooperative, quiet, and trying to do his time in such a manner as to make it easy on the supervisor as well as other inmates assigned to the shop. The Lieutenant in charge of quarters comments that he wished he had 246 inmates like him. He gets along well with all the inmates and none at the present time treat him as a “big shot.”

In February 1962, the director of the Catholic Rehabilitation Service, with whom Karpis had been working to develop a release plan to present to the parole board, informed newspaper reporters that former Public Enemy no. 1 might be coming out of prison. This information produced headlines across the country such as “Ex-Mob King Seeks Parole,” “Widow to Fight Karpis’ Release From Alcatraz,” and “‘Hood’ Karpis Eyes Parole.”
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The last article described Karpis as a “pal” of John Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson and listed a number of crimes, other than the Bremer kidnapping, for which he was said to be wanted, including
the Kansas City Union Station massacre and the murder of a Kansas City politician.

When a copy of this article was circulated in FBI headquarters, J. Edgar Hoover penned a comment, “They will parole this rat.” The director had already written to the attorney general to oppose Karpis’s release:

In view of the ruthless crimes perpetrated by Karpis, I wanted to let you know of the alleged efforts to get him released from prison. By reason of his notorious background, Karpis is certainly not entitled to any consideration.
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Hoover sent a copy of this letter to James Bennett, asking that the FBI be informed of any efforts to release Karpis, and of any transfer within the Bureau of Prisons.

Hoover was not alone in his opposition to the release of the former Public Enemy. An article in the
Washington Star
summed up the editorial position of many newspapers: “His good behavior in prison hardly atones for the atrocious crimes which he and his colleagues committed when they were terrorizing the whole Midwest some thirty years ago.”
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Karpis thus encountered the problem faced by many high-profile lawbreakers: records of good conduct in prison, no matter for how many years, had no bearing on their chances for parole. Prison officials understood this reality to mean that celebrity offenders who obeyed prison rules would become frustrated when they realized that records of good conduct would not give them credit for “having changed.”

With the director of the FBI expressing his considerable opposition, Karpis’s release to Canada would not come for many more years after his transformation from “a menace” to a “model prisoner.” Yet in the end Karpis would have an opportunity to even the score with J. Edgar Hoover.

In April 1962 Karpis was transferred to McNeil Island—Leavenworth officials had rejected a proposal that he be given another try in their prison. While he maintained correspondence with a sister and his son, he worked closely with Frank Roberts of the Catholic Rehabilitation Service, who visited him at McNeil to discuss his employment as a cook or baker following release. He was assigned to work in the recreation department and for the first time was allowed to watch television and began attending a “self-improvement” group. He moved to a job with more responsibility—inmate payroll clerk—where his supervisor characterized his work as “exceptional.” His housing unit officer called his attitude “outstanding,” stating that Karpis exhibited “the biggest change he had ever observed in a man.”