Critics declared Birdman of Alcatraza masterpiece and Lancaster reined an Academy Award Ònomination for his portrayal of Stroud. Meanwhile, Stroud himself continued his legal battle for his own release. Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy had earlier issued a statement based on prior petitions and appeals, stating that he could not “in good conscience recommend to the President that it would be in the public interest that Mr. Stroud’s sentence be commuted.” But Stroud refused to give up, and by coincidence, his return to court coincided with the film’s release in Kansas City. Thomas Gaddis and Burt Lancaster attended the Kansas City hearing and for the first time, Stroud and Gaddis were able to briefly shake hands without exchanging words. This would be the only time the two would ever meet.
Stroud being led to court in Topeka, Kansas in 1959, to appeal his sentence.
Fellow prisoner Morton Sobell became a close friend of Stroud’s at Springfield. Sobell would later write that several of the other inmates hated Stroud because of his eccentric behavior. Stroud himself would never see the classic film that had shaped his character in the public eye. However, it was rumored that he was able to watch Lancaster receive his Academy Award ®nomination on TV, as well as a short clip of Lancaster’s performance as the Birdman.
On the morning of November 21, 1963, Morton Sobell went to check on Stroud, who had failed to show up for their regular breakfast meeting in the small dining hall. Upon entering his cell, Morton discovered that Stroud had died peacefully in his sleep.
Stroud’s burial site at the Masonic Cemetery in Metropolis, Illinois. He is buried between his mother and his sister.
Stroud’s death was overshadowed in the national consciousness by the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and the local Metropolis Illinois newspaper contained only a brief editorial, reading in part:
Stroud, 73, was discovered dead at 5:45 a.m., at the center where Stroud had been confined for the past four years. Stroud was a former resident of Metropolis, and his sister, Mrs. Mamie Schaffer, still lives here. A brother, Lawrence Marcus of Honolulu, is the only other immediate survivor. Several cousins, nieces and nephews also survive him. Arrangements for the funeral are incomplete. The body will be brought to the Aikins Funeral home, and the services will be private. Prison officials said his death was due to natural causes.
At the time of his death Robert Stroud had spent over fifty-four years in prison, until then the longest federal prison sentence ever served. Throughout his prison term, he never once expressed any remorse for his killings and was said to have bragged to other inmates about the crimes he would commit if he were ever released back into society. Despite his external associations with affluent celebrities who believed he was no longer a threat, it is clear today that even some of his own peers looked upon Stroud as dangerous and unfit to return to society. One insight into Stroud’s character was buried deep in his inmate case file, in a letter he wrote March 1942, impounded by the mail room at USP Leavenworth. Stroud wrote:
"Regardless of what we think of Hitler, and I had his number, completely, back in the 20's, before he gained power even in Germany, he is the best possible illustration of the effectiveness of a fix purpose. For, regardless of his personal qualities, he has a very effective single-mindedness. And if I have one good quality, it is the same kind of single-mindedness."
During an interview conducted for this book, I asked former Alcatraz inmate Jim Quillen if he had any final opinions on Stroud and passed him an original copy of Stroud’s Digest on Bird Diseases. He asked me if I’d like him to sign it and rather than offer any spoken opinion, Quillen pulled out a pen and wrote a small inscription on the inside cover, which read: “Knew Bob Stroud and think he was a smart man but a psycho.” Perhaps the famed Public Enemy Number One and fellow inmate, Alvin Karpis said it best in his 1980 memoir chronicling his twenty-five years on Alcatraz. He simply wrote:
“... If I had the responsibility of deciding whether or not to release Robert Stroud I would have reached the same conclusion of the parole board.”
Alcatraz on Trial
The Life of Henri Young
(Author’s Note: There is a long running debate as to whether Young is correctly referenced as “Henri” or “Henry.” His inmate case file provides references to both, and most origin documents refer to him as Henry. However, Young signed his name as Henri, and his attorney James M. MacInnis also referred to him both verbally and in written form as Henri. As a result, he is referenced as Henri throughout this chapter.)
Henri Young
In 1941, the name Henri Young would saturate newspaper headlines, with stories portraying the prisoner as a casualty of the strict and unrelenting regimen on Alcatraz. Young’s trial for the murder of fellow inmate Rufus McCain quickly turned into a debate over the appropriateness of confinement practices on Alcatraz. In the end, Warden Johnston found himself on the witness stand defending his correctional staff against allegations of physical and psychological abuse.
The premise that Henri Young was in fact a non-violent and passive inmate driven to murder by his years of confinement, allegedly in moldy and damp underground dungeons, was completely erroneous. In Warden Johnston’s personal memoir of his life at Alcatraz, he described Henri Young as an “alert, shrewd, intelligent, cunning, conspiring criminal with the exhibitionist’s desire to dramatize his position and relate his misdeeds.” Young’s inmate file contains an unpublished and unfinished autobiography that he penned after the trial. His memoir reveals a horrendously disturbed and deeply troubled life, with torrid tales of youthful crimes, sexual obscenities, and many painful memories. He claimed to have witnessed the brutal suicide of a relative at only thirteen years of age. Henri Young would become one of the most incorrigible inmates ever to reside on Alcatraz.
Henri Theodore Young was born in Kansas City, Missouri, on June 20, 1911. He described his own early life in a memoir he began writing during his years in prison:
I was born of Helen E. Young in Kansas City, Mo. Father David E. Young was present. Preceeding [sic] me by 2 years was one girl, Ruth E. Young. Additions were made to our family by one younger girl Naomi and one still younger boy David C. Young. This completes my family.
The true sequence of my earliest memories is hazy to me, but mother told me of fighting with a neighbor woman over some toys her boy and I had some trouble... Another time a cousin and I received a spanking for urinating in a garden. Then appears a ghastly white-faced boy who seemed delighted in eating caterpillars. This was repulsive.
We moved from Kansas City to northern Missouri. On a farm there father worked as a laborer. The owners and our family lived in one house. I one day drew a funny picture on the wall of the owners compartment in blue crayon. I would not admit to it. The woman owner was most gracious and I refused to become angry. Here was also a Negro woman cook from whom I would not accept food.
Father bought me a pony. This pony would head for his home each time I got on him. Mother came from a small stream dragging a turtle behind her on a rope, She cooked it. It was delicious. Our family moved from this place to a rickety old farm of our own. Once my uncle Bob whose farm was adjacent beat his horses terribly in full view of our farmhouse. I stood in the window and watched that, but God has been kind enough to obliterate all details of that horror... During hog killing time father became angry because his revolver would not shoot. He killed the hog with an axe. On the fence post nearby he placed the bladder of the hog commenting that “dried out it would make a good baby rattle”.