In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

7 THE WELCOME WAGON Dillon and I were taken back to McNeil to await our transfer to ‘‘the Rock,’’ as it was nearlyalways called: Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary. Three days later I was awakened at one in the morning and taken out of the cell house to be handcuffed, shackled, and ferried to the mainland for our journey to San Francisco. It was 2:00 a.m. exactly when we left, and we were driven nonstop all the way to San Francisco Bay and down to the waterfront facing Alcatraz Island. We arrived at the ferryboat dock at about six that evening when the sun had just set. As we boarded the ferry, the graceful lines of the Golden Gate Bridge were outlined black against a glowing purple sky. It was very windy and cold, and the bay waters were choppy, tossing the boat around like a cork. If I thought it was windy on shore, I soon learned what wind really was when we approached the island itself. The ferry swung around to the far side of the island facing away from the cityand then made a U-turn into the dock area. As we disembarked, I sawa prison guard wrap the anchor rope around a post and then place a chain around the looped rope and secure it with a padlock. Over the dock loomed a thirty-foot gun tower. As we walked along the dock, I saw a black panel truck parked on a narrow road that wound up to the prison compound. After securing the anchor rope, the guard walked over to the base of the gun tower. A bucket was lowered by the guard inside the tower so that the guard on the dock could place the key to the padlock inside the bucket, which would be pulled back up by the long rope to the gun tower. As we approached the truck, a short fat man in a guard’s uniform barked out the order to get in the back, where we were joined by two more guards. The marshals helped Dillon and me climb up inside the truck since we were still chained. The two guards from Alcatraz took a seat directly across from us.The fat guard who had barked out the order was chomping on a cigar as he came over to shut the rear door of the truck, but he paused a moment and made a statement I sensed was directed at me. ‘‘Listen up! If you try any goddamn shit around here, we’ll lock you up and forget about you.’’ He looked directly at me as if he were fighting for the control not to take a swing at me. I stared back at him, and he finally turned his gaze away. He muttered a few more curses before slamming the door shut. I figured that he was just some miserable son of a bitch, and from his looks I could have easily mistaken him for a hobo hiding out on the island. His belly hung over the waist of his pants, his shirt was only partially buttoned, and most of it hung out untucked from his pants. Compared to him, the other guards looked like West Point cadets. I heard him slam the front cab door of the panel truck and start the engine. We lurched forward, the force almost knocking us all off our seats. We grabbed hold of the bench as the hobo guard sped the truck up the winding road and tossed us all about. The other guards didn’t utter a sound. When we reached the highest part of the island, the truck came to an abrupt stop. The fat guard jumped out of the truck, came around to open the reardoor, and ordered Dillon and me out. As I climbed down, I saw that we were at the base of the lighthouse that signaled constantly to all the ships entering San Francisco Bay. When I turned around I was facing the front entrance of Alcatraz. Above the doors was carved a large American eagle with its wings spread open in invitation. Right then the wind nearly blew Dillon and me completely off our feet. The fat guard gave us a little shove in the direction of the entrance, and he made some threats about what he would do if we caused any trouble. I took my time walking as I was still shackled with chains. More than the chains, I was shu...

Share