Birdman of Alcatraz Page #7

I played it myself.

I got a good report on you

from Leavenworth, Bob.

And I'm satisfied you'll make

the adjustment here.

Now, your orders call for segregation.

But I think if you toe the mark,

eventually we can improve on that,

make things a little more pleasant for you.

My office is always open. If you're not

treated right, just let me know.

Do the children enjoy living here?

I don't suppose any of us

truly enjoy living on this island.

It wasn't designed for pleasure.

Stroud.

Hey, Stroud.

Feto.

Feto Gomez.

You old buzzard. I heard you was comin'.

- It's good to see ya. How do you feel?

- Still squeakin' by.

Remember the birds? Huh?

Ape and Jackie.

Them was good times, you know.

They sure were. Gee, you look good.

I still figure you stole

them baby canaries from me.

Well, you know me, Feto.

I'm just an old thief.

Have you seen the Shoemaker lately?

He met me at the barn door.

Well, he ain't such a bad old guy.

We been cutting it pretty good lately.

He made me trusty.

- Trusty?

- Sure.

No use beatin' your head up against the

wall. I should've wised up a long time ago.

I been flyin' right lately,

because my parole

comes up again in November,

and I'm gonna hit those bricks

before I kick the bucket, you see?

Sure. Sure, I understand, Feto.

You still go for the mince pie?

I can do you a lot of good, because I'm

the head man with the steam table here.

And old Feto Gomez can sneak you two,

maybe even three pieces every so often.

- Feto.

- Yeah?

- How much time you done?

- Time?

Yeah. How much time? Altogether?

I don't know.

Let me recollect.

I knocked off four at Atlanta.

I did three at Juliet.

And then I did that ten-spot

with you at Leavenworth.

And then I was on the street for four.

And then I been here for six.

- How much is that?

- 23.

Yeah.

- Why do you wanna know, Bob?

- Nothin'. I just wondered.

- What's all the gabbin', Gomez?

- Nothin', sir.

The prisoner just wanted

some more meat.

No chance, Stroud. No extra portions.

Everybody gets treated the same here,

you understand?

- Bob.

- I'm gonna wallop you today.

Congratulations on

the publication of your book.

Yeah, it's a honey. It should sell big.

But that's all behind me now.

I've started writin' a new book.

The history of federal prisons from 1790

up to the formation of the bureau.

A story about caged men

rather than birds.

What prison does to 'em.

Got the idea from seein' an old friend.

- It's an ambitious undertaking, Bob.

- It'll knock the public cold.

Graft, corruption,

stupidity, sadism.

All the elements

of a best seller, eh, Father?

- It's a story that needs telling.

- And how!

You realise, of course,

it involves a certain element of risk.

I do indeed.

But you know somethin'?

When you've lived in these manure piles

for over 30 years, as I have,

you come to know everything's a risk.

Your serve.

- I wish you luck.

- It's worth the gamble.

I'm confiscating this manuscript, Bob.

Have you read it?

Enough to realise that it's a blast

at the entire penal system.

You're in serious trouble.

The bureau has known for months

what you were writing.

You haven't told me what you think of it.

I resent this personally.

I stand high in my profession,

and I believe I've earned that esteem.

I am proud of the advances

that I have helped to inaugurate.

Think back to the old times.

Leg irons, carrying the iron ball,

stripes, corporal punishment,

indefinite periods in the hole.

I have been instrumental

in abolishing that kind of treatment.

Yes, that's true, Harvey.

Furthermore, you completely ignore my

fight for a constructive work programme.

Like making belt buckles,

or running a drill press?

I see.

My entire career has been for nothing.

I'm all wrong and you're all right.

I'm not talking about one tree, Harvey.

I'm talking about the whole forest.

I haven't spent most of my life

behind bars for nothing.

I've reached conclusions about penology,

and a couple of them may be valid.

When you first came here,

I thought you were changed.

I was even planning to return you

to the general prison population.

And now this. Well,

you're not gonna get away with it.

The bureau has suggested privileges be

suspended. You know what that means.

You know better than try to frighten me,

Harvey, at this late date.

Damn your heart!

Do you think that

I wanna go on punishing you?

We've grown old together, and in all that

time I've only asked one thing from you.

Cooperation. The only thing

I've ever gotten back was defiance!

Not once have you ever shown

a sign of rehabilitation!

- Rehabilitation.

- Yes. Rehabilitation.

I wonder if you know

what the word means.

Do you?

Now don't be insulting.

The unabridged Webster's

International Dictionary

says it comes from the Latin root habilis.

The definition is:

to invest again with dignity.

Do you consider that part of your job, to

give a man back the dignity he once had?

Your only interest is in how he behaves.

You told me that once a long time ago,

and I'll never forget it.

"You'll conform to our ideas

of how you should behave."

And you haven't retreated from

that stand one inch in 35 years.

You want your prisoners to dance

out the gates like puppets on a string,

with rubber-stamp values

impressed by you,

with your sense of conformity,

your sense of behaviour,

even your sense of morality.

That's why you're a failure, Harvey.

You and the whole science of penology.

Because you rob prisoners of

the most important thing in their lives -

their individuality.

On the outside they're lost, automatons,

just going through the motions of living.

But underneath there's a deep,

deep hatred for what you did to them.

First chance they get

to attack society, they do it.

The result? More than half

come back to prison.

Now it's all here in my book.

And I suggest you read it

and you read it thoroughly.

All right, you've spoken your piece.

I have no course left but to speak mine.

This San Francisco climate sure doesn't

help an old man's aches and pains.

Where does it hurt you, Harvey?

In my left shoulder and down my arm.

You should have a medical checkup.

Yeah.

You got a visitor.

Hello, Bob.

Hello, Stell.

Well, here I am.

I know what you told Bull to tell me.

Then why did you come?

What else have I got to do?

Bob...

Bob, I could get on your visiting list.

I could get a job in Oakland maybe.

I could get a room at the waterfront,

and you could get some spyglasses

and see my room from your cell.

It's no use, Stell.

Please, Bob. There's still hope.

Bureau policy changes.

There's always the chance

the president will pardon you.

Why did you come

2,000 miles for nothin'?

Just to see me once a month?

I came because I'm your wife, that's why.

Bob, the only life I got is you.

Then you've got a damned

poor future, old girl.

I'm never gonna get outta here.

I could get a job in a factory.

I could write letters every day.

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