Birdman of Alcatraz Page #4

And he too was ugly also.

And one time I came up to her room,

and the door was open,

and she was tryin' to teach

the parrot to say somethin'.

You'll get a boot outta this, Bob.

You know what she wanted him to say?

"I love you, Peggy."

Over and over, you know,

she kept at him. "I love you, Peggy."

Oh, them two uglies.

I figured she was some kinda nut, so

I never seen her no more after that time.

Good old Peg.

So what happens?

So I wind up in the can,

and I'm talking to the birds

just like she did.

You know... I gotta admit it,

for the first time since I been in stir,

them baby canaries,

they make me feel good.

You know, it ain't just right

to flush Apey down the toilet bowl.

Hey, Stroud, what am I

supposed to do with him, huh?

What am I gonna do?

Hey, Bob?

Stroud struck back

at the oldest enemy of all.

Wash the cages, sterilise

the cell from top to bottom,

read everything in

the prison library about birds.

He learned of oxidisers, which had been

used as a poultry germicide for years.

He wrote to his mother, asking

for these drugs, plus equipment.

While waiting, he tried

fantastic concoctions on his birds,

like a sulphur solution

made from the heads of matches.

The birds died with increasing swiftness.

The package of drugs and

equipment came from Mother.

With little or no knowledge of the amount

of chemicals a canary could tolerate,

Stroud proceeded to administer

the oxidisers to his sick birds.

Clearly, this drug was

no cure for septic fever,

but Stroud persisted,

trying different combinations.

The birds still died.

However, Stroud made one discovery:

before death, their temperature

dropped to normal.

He concluded the chemicals

were too harsh, too caustic.

He decided to buffer them

with effervescent sodas.

The birds died.

Hey, Stroud! When you gonna

find a medicine for my birds?

They're droppin' like flies!

- We'll just have to wait.

- Wait?

I'm gonna kill 'em all!

Finally, there was only

one more buffering agent left

in his tiny arsenal of drugs:

Citrocarbonate.

He combined this

with potassium chlorate.

He dosed his birds. After that,

all he could do was hope.

- Three o'clock, Bob.

- Thanks, Johnson.

Hey, Bob?

What happened? Why is that bird singin'?

You find a medicine?

Go to it, kid. Sing your heart out.

The years passed,

and news of Stroud's medicine spread

to the gentle world of bird owners.

People began to wonder who

this strange new bird doctor was.

Finally, someone got curious.

Bob, did you enter some kind of a contest

in one of those canary magazines?

Yeah. I won second prize - a roller canary.

Well, you'd better go pick it up.

It's in the deputy's office.

Good.

- What's up?

- Not a thing.

You must be Mr Stroud.

Here you are. Your second prize.

A night roller of St Andreasburg stock.

I'm Mrs Stella Johnson. I offered the prize.

- Who let you in?

- The warden. It took three days.

Well, I suppose you wonder why I'm here.

Well, I kept reading your articles

and letters to the journal.

Then I tried your cure of oxidising agents

on one of my birds with septic fever,

and, by golly, it worked.

So I began to wonder

who this new bird doctor was.

And when you won the prize I put up,

my curiosity really got the best of me.

So I just had to find out who

Box 7, Leavenworth, Kansas was.

So I... I wrote to the postmaster

at Leavenworth and asked him,

and he told me it was

the federal penitentiary.

Why did you come to see me?

Well, you see,

I live in Shelbyville, Indiana.

And I was visiting a cousin in St Louis,

and Leavenworth isn't far...

You were visiting in St Louis

and you carried him all the way with you?

Well, the way it was...

I was going...

I thought...

Yes?

Mr Stroud, I'm terribly sorry

for taking so much of your time.

Good luck with the roller.

Mrs Johnson.

Thank you for bringing him.

Well, actually, you know, I...

I did have an idea when I came here.

Idea?

Have you ever thought

of selling your bird remedies?

Go ahead.

Well...

I have a little money. Not much. But

I believe it would be a good investment.

You make 'em and I sell 'em.

I've even thought of a name.

Stroud's Specifics.

Well, I'll be darned.

You said your name

was Mrs Stella Johnson.

- I'm a widow woman.

- I see.

My husband passed away

eight years ago.

I'm sorry.

Truth is, about all

I've got in life is my birds.

What do you know about me,

Mrs Johnson?

That you killed two men.

- Any questions?

- No.

Stroud's Specifics. Well.

- You hear a roll of the drums just then?

- Drums?

- There was even a trombone there.

- Meaning what?

The formation of our new company.

You mean you made up

your mind just like that?

One thing I've learned

is not to abuse time.

I suggest we split everything right down

the middle, if that's all right with you.

I never thought a business

could be set up this fast.

- You can change your mind if you want.

- Not me.

Yes, I guess so.

I beg your pardon?

I was just saying goodbye

to Shelbyville, Indiana.

I'll be moving to Leavenworth.

I've got to be near my factory.

This is a big day for me, Mrs Johnson.

I have a feeling you've brought me luck.

- I hope so.

- Time's up.

Before you go, would you do me a favour?

Of course. What is it?

Would it be too personal to...

to let me look through your purse?

Go ahead.

Lipstick?

- Cigarette case?

- Powder compact.

Oh, yes.

What were you looking for?

A hacksaw.

Write me when you get ready to move.

I'll have my mother find a place for you.

All right. Goodbye.

So long, partner.

Hey, Bob, get a load of this.

Hey, you hear that, Bob?

What's that word?

Congress.

The prison grapevine

hammered out the news

that a Federal Bureau of Prisons

had been created by an act of Congress.

Director:
AJ MacLeod.

The new warden who came to

Leavenworth was Albert Comstock.

One of the first prisoners

he asked to see was Robert Stroud.

- Sit down, please.

- Thank you.

You've heard about the formation

of the new Bureau of Prisons, of course.

I have several directives from Washington

that will affect you personally.

I wanted to read them to you myself.

Go ahead, Warden.

The first one states

that no pets of any kind

will be allowed

in federal penitentiaries.

The second directive forbids any inmate

to engage in any commercial enterprise.

Do you know what that means?

That means my birds.

I'm sorry, Stroud.

I know how important they are to you.

Nobody looks at my record, huh?

15 years without a mark against me.

- That don't mean billy-be-damned.

- You're exaggerating your importance.

These directives weren't made just

for you. It applies to the entire system.

Prisoners now have dogs, cats,

parrots, canary birds, even monkeys.

It's bad sanitation.

Feeding becomes a big problem.

It creates feuds among inmates.

Other prisoners complain of lice and fleas.

The situation simply has to be cleaned up.

You have 60 days to get rid of your aviary.

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