Inmate AZ 85
The Big Guy

All right, already! Enough of this "Inmate 85" stuff. We mean, of course, Alphonse Gabriel Capone. That is Public Enemy #1, Big Al, Scarface¹.

Al hated the last nickname. He considered the scars a disfigurement. Sometimes he tried to hide them with face powder².

Various accounts tell how Al got his scar. An early story was that a Brooklyn barber, irritated at the arrogant 16-year old Capone swaggering around his shop, slashed at him with a razor. Others say he got the scars in a street fight.

But the most common story now - as reported in scholarly works - is that Al was working as a bouncer in a restaurant. He saw a pretty young lady and was taken with her beauty. He said - jokingly he claimed later - "Honey, I think you have a nice [conformation and morphology of the maximus, medius, and minimus striated fundamental filaments³] and I mean that as a compliment." The man with her was her brother, Frank Gallucio, who pulled out a knife and slashed the impudent young man's face.

There's plenty of stuff about how Al was born in Brooklyn in 1899, he dropped out of school, and that on the behest of mob boss Johnny Torrio, he moved to Chicago to become the biggest bootlegger in the nation. All by the time he was 26. Suspected of being behind the notorious St. Valentine Day's Massacre on February 14, 1929, at age 32 Al was convicted - not of bootlegging or murder - but of income tax evasion. He had agreed to a plea bargain where he'd serve two years. But the judge rejected the deal and Al ultimately got hammered for eleven years in the slammer.

Alcatraz Island
A Piece of the Rock

Al was sent to the federal prison at Atlanta. But in a year he was moved to The Rock - Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay. The transfer was nominally because of his corrupting influence on the prisoners at Atlanta and because he was able to get information to and from his gang back in Chicago. So even though he was in prison he was still running "The Outfit".

Al's fate illustrates the way Alcatraz was run. Prisoners were not sentenced there directly. Instead they were transferred from other prisons on the recommendation of the individual wardens. One exception was Morton Sobell who was convicted of spying for the Soviet Union in 1951. He was sentenced directly to Alcatraz⁴.

Although you had high profile criminals like Al and Morton - not to mention the ilks of George "Machine Gun" Kelly - most of the inmates were unknown to the general public. In fact, almost all were minor players in the world of crime.

Instead transfer to Alcatraz was because the inmate was the proverbial "bad apple". That is, they were a bad influence on the proper running of the institution and were hindering the rehabilitation of the other prisoners. The solution was to take the bad apples out of the barrel and put them in Alcatraz, the barrel made only for bad apples.

Al didn't think he'd be going. So he was surprised when on the night of August 18, 1934, a guard showed up and ordered him out of his cell. He had to leave everything behind, including photographs of his family. Al refused to come out of his cell and it took three guards to enforce his compliance.

Although by the 1930's there was routine commercial air service and motor transport had become available to the average family, most long distance travel was still by train. Rail was more available, more convenient, and often was faster than any of the alternatives⁵.

Al wasn't the only prisoner in the car, of course. It was specifically reserved for convicts going to Alcatraz and their guards. They stopped on the trip across the country to pick up other inmates slated for The Rock.

The prisoners were shackled two-by-two in the seats. They traveled chained together and they slept in the seats chained together. They weren't even unlocked for necessary functions. If one had to go, the other had to go along, too.

The train arrived in San Francisco on August 22. At San Francisco Bay, the whole car was wheeled onto a barge. It was then ferried to the island. There the prisoners were unshackled and issued new clothes and allowed the luxury of a hot shower. But before the new uniforms were put on, the prisoners were searched. Thoroughly searched. Very thoroughly searched. Then they stood in line to be checked in.

According to the memoirs of Warden James A. Johnston, Al tried to be a big shot. He offered to do favors for the other convicts and even said he would buy instruments for the prison band (Al himself played tenor banjo). Warden Johnston refused all of Al's requests.

On a personal level Al said that he had a big family which he had to meet with frequently⁶. He also had a number of business partners and he needed to keep up his connections. Warden Johnston said there would be only one visit per month, immediate family only, and no more than two visitors at one time. No business associates at all were permitted.

Al shrugged his shoulders. "It looks like Alcatraz has got me licked."

Al was put to work in the laundry⁷. Once when he was wringing the clothes, James Lucas, an inmate doing time for bank robbery and driving a stolen car across state lines, stabbed him with a pair of scissors. The motive for the attack isn't clear. In any case, Al managed to fight the smaller man off until the guards could intervene⁸.

It was clear that Al needed extra protection. So he was given the relatively cushy and safe job of distributing books and magazines from the library.

OK. Just how tough was Alcatraz? Oddly enough the prisoners can't agree on what seems to be a fairly simple question.

Few have said it was a pleasant experience and most say the restrictions of privileges were't necessary. But their stories also seem to change as society flip-flops from a philosophy of rehabilitation to a get-tough-on-crime attitude and back again.

One of the biggest surprises for those who live off prison movies like Murder in the First⁹ is what Charlie Berta (Inmate AZ 132) said during an interview. There was no brutality at Alcatraz, he said. That was an invention of the media. Instead Alcatraz was one of the best places to serve your time.

Some inmates disagreed. Inmate Miran Thompson (Inmate AZ 729) claimed Associate Warden E. J. Miller had yanked out a handful of his hair and threatened to kill him if he didn't sign a confession for his participation in a breakout attempt. Of course, Miran was also trying to get acquitted for murder. Clarence Carnes (Inmate AZ 714), who was also a defendant, claimed that E. J. "beat the [crud] out of him". But once he was paroled, Clarence changed his story and said he was never mistreated. Other inmates and even guards would say they "heard" of the horrible stories of brutality in deep dark dungeons but could give no specific examples.

That there were some advantages (relatively speaking) on Alcatraz is not to be denied. Each prisoner had his own cell. In other prisons you could have anywhere from two to eight men crammed together. Books and magazines could be checked out of the library (but no newspapers). There were movies twice a month, and their jobs got the men out of their cells about six hours a day. Other pastimes included playing musical instruments and painting and drawing. Inmates in adjoining cells could also play chess or checkers and there was time allowed in the recreation yard where they could play games like bridge, handball, and even baseball. Except for a few times when the cooks messed up, even the prisoners admitted the food was very good.

The problem, though, was that the recreation and diversions - books and movies and the rest - wasn't enough to keep the prisoners occupied. So they had a lot of time to stew about their situation. Sometimes they felt they had all they could stand and couldn't stand no more.

Work strikes for more privileges did occur. However, these strikes rarely produced changes in the system since Warden Johnston felt that "caving" into the prisoners' demands would be setting a dangerous precedence.

So the usual way to handle a strike was, well, just to let them strike. Don't want to work? OK, stay in your cells and don't come out even for meals. After a day or two, most inmates would return to their jobs. Instigators of the rebellions would be placed in "segregation" or even "The Hole" which were cells with no light. Hunger strikes were handled by force feedings via a tube forced down the inmate's nostrils.

The possibility of personal violence was real. Even Warden Johnston was once attacked. At one point in his sentence, Burton Phillips (Inmate AZ 259) felt aggrieved at his problems but as usual the specifics are rather vague (one story is he thought he was being denied the right to legal advice). So to voice his displeasure he waited until Warden Johnston stood in the cafeteria while the prisoners were filing out. As Burton passed by he knocked Johnston to the ground and kicked him repeatedly in the head. The warden was knocked unconscious before the guards - and some prisoners - could come to his rescue. Burton was thrown into solitary and it is said he was not handled gently.

Strikes were often a group institution-wide affair. In that case, said Jim Quillen (Inmate AZ 586), you'd better go along. Al, though, often refused to join such resistance since he knew it would hurt his chances for an early release. There was even the story going around - denied by Warden Johnston - that Al had squealed about a strike. Such rumors reduced his standing with the other prisoners.

And of course there were the escapes. Although the most famous escape was by the Anglin brothers in 1962 and told with some embellishment in the famous movie with Clint Eastwood, the most violent attempt (or incident of any type) was the 1946 so-called "Battle of Alcatraz". Three prisoners - later joined by three others - tried to seize weapons in the gun gallery. The convicts took control of the cell house and before the two day battle was over, two guards and three inmates were dead, two inmates would later be executed, and one sentenced to a life term. Al, though, was not involved. In fact, he was no longer on Alcatraz.

On February 8, 1938 the weather had been unusually warm. So the guards didn't give the signal to put on pea jackets. But Al put his on anyway even after another inmate told him the coats weren't needed. Then Al just sat in his cell.

The guards ordered Al into the breakfast line but he still didn't respond. Normally such behavior would mark the man for a stint in solitary. But Al didn't normally disobey orders so the guards knew something was wrong. Finally Al began to wander along with the other men. But he appeared disoriented and didn't seem to understand what anyone said. Then he threw up.

Al was quickly hustled to the hospital. The doctor recognized the signs of what the English call the French Disease, the French called the Neapolitan Disease, the Turks call the Christian Disease, and their parishioners, the Vicar's Disease¹⁰. Evidently Al had contracted this malady even before he got married and back in his wild and woolly days in Brooklyn.

Al soon regained his senses. When Warden Johnson stopped by, he asked what had happened.

"I don't know, Warden," Al said. "They tell me I acted like I was a little wacky.

Al had been given the usual test - called a Wasserman - which had come back clear. But the Wasserman wasn't that reliable and other doctors had suggested analyzing his spinal fluid. Al had not been too keen at having his spine punctured but now he agreed. The test came back positive thus showing the disease had advanced to the tertiary - and most dangerous - stage. Al was a sick man.

The family was alarmed and asked Warden Johnston to set Al free. Of course, the warden had no authority to do anything of the kind. But he assured Mae that Al was lucid and not showing outward signs of the disease. That was an optimistic assessment if an account by another inmate can be believed.

Al was moved to the hospital. There he was housed next to Carl "The Terror of the Ozarks" Janaway (Inmate AZ 393). Carl was from the same part of the country as the famous (but by then deceased) Charles Arthur "Pretty Boy" Floyd. He had robbed a bank with FDIC coverage and driven a stolen car across state lines. Those crimes got Carl a federal conviction and his intractable nature landed him in Alcatraz.

Carl had been injured when arrested (his car had rolled over). But it wasn't his injury that brought him to the doctor's attention. Early on Carl had been exhibiting clinical anxiety - called going "stir crazy". His condition had gotten to the point that he couldn't be kept in a regular cell.

Instead of the usual cement-walled cells with the "slammer" barred doors, the hospital cells were enclosures made from a wire grid commonly used in "hogwire" fences. These cells were somewhat discourteously called "bug cages" by the other inmates.

As the disease progressed Al had become unusually talkative. In particular he seemed to like razzing Carl about his relatively unsuccessful career as a bank robber. One inmate noted their conversations were like two kids arguing in a sandbox. Or today we'd say they were like two politicians with their Twitter accounts.

"When we both get out of here," Al proclaimed, "I'm going to give you millions of dollars, Janaway. I'm going to make you a millionaire!"

"[Take a hike]", Mr. Millionaire", jeered Carl.

"Bughouse Janaway, the Millionaire!" Al sneered.

"Don't call me that you [gosh darn gentleman of Mediterranean heritage]!" Carl shouted back.

"Bughouse Janaway! Bughouse Janaway!" Al taunted.

"Stop calling me that!" Carl yelled.

"Bughouse Janaway!"

Then Carl picked up - well, a "container" that the prisoners in the hospital cells used in lieu of the more modern conveniences. Grabbing a comfortable handful, he threw it at Al. The amorphous projectile diffracted through the hogwire and found its target. Besplattered, begrimed, and enraged and inspired to action, Al likewise grabbed a handful from his own cornucopia and returned the fire.

The next few minutes were a blur while the two men slipped and slid as they hurled their volleys of effluvial excreta amid punctuations of laughter and curses. When there was nothing left that could be collected and processed, the orderlies had the disagreeable duty of cleaning up both the prisoners and the cells.

This story has been reported in one of Al's more scholarly biographies. On the other hand, the source is one that requires some pause, namely Alvin Francis Karpis (Inmate AZ 325), one of the notorious Barker Gang and who would remain on Alcatraz longer than any other prisoner¹¹.

Alvin is a hard one to figure out. In surviving interviews he's mild-mannered and articulate and makes no apologies (or regrets) for his past. He also wrote two "as-told-to" books which appear to have been legitimately dictated and are not simply ghost written fantasies that the author himself never read. His stories seem completely convincing.

But ...

Alvin portrays himself a bit too much in a heroic light - not uncommon in autobiographies. He's a stand-up guy, never toadying to the cops for privileges and never going back on his word. He even refused to file a request to get out of solitary and wouldn't cooperate with the FBI even when he was threatened with a prosecution for murder.

And at times some of his episodes don't really hold up. Alvin told of how when he disembarked on the Alcatraz dock, the families of the guards were on hand. One kid yelled that there was Public Enemy #1 - he meant Alvin - and asked his dad for a gun to shoot him.

That a kid would really recognize Alvin at all, much less at the distance from the family residences to the dock, is a bit far fetched. For one thing the children were instructed to behave courteously to any inmates they encountered and never to be rude.

In fact it's likely that most kids on Alcatraz had never even seen a picture of Alvin. Newspapers and newsreels notwithstanding that was a far less visual age.

Even well into the 1950's many celebrities would not be recognized although everyone knew their names. In 1958 when Arnold Palmer (who had just won the Masters Tournament) appeared on the panel show What's My Line he only signed in as "Mr. X" and the panel didn't put on blindfolds. No one recognized him. The same was true for the appearances of LPGA co-founder and golf champion Patty Berg and underwater explorer Jacques Cousteau. A bigger surprise is that in 1959 the panel of To Tell the Truth didn't recognize Sir Edmund Hillary - and this was a full six years after he had been the first to scale Mount Everest.

There's certainly reasons to wonder if Alvin might have twisted the pretzel a bit. It's now accepted that Alvin's capture in 1936 was not the single handed tour-de-force by J. Edgar Hoover. Certainly the arrest wasn't as shown in the Jimmy Stewart movie, "The FBI Story" which was filmed with Edgar's knowledge and cooperation. There on a street in New Orleans, Edgar walks up and arrests Alvin - we only see the men in silhouette - singlehandedly and alone.

Alvin's description, though, has Edgar hiding behind a building and well away from the action until the agents called him over. But this is probably stretching things a bit the other way.

Historically the most reliable account is the report written by FBI agent E. J. Connelley. According to that version the field agents move in just as Alvin is settling behind the wheel of his car, and in a millisecond Alvin found himself staring into a covey of gun barrels. Edgar was present, and although not in the forefront, he wasn't cowering behind a corner. When asked if he had personally arrested Alvin, Edgar said the arrest was a "we", not an "I" thing.

Capone gang member George Meyer provides some corroboration that historians should only accept Alvin's information cautiously. "If you believed half of what Karpis told you," George said, "he knew everyone and all their business."

"Karpis didn't know [diddly]," he added¹².

But regardless of the journalistic quality of Alvin's account about the Battle of the Bedpans, Al's condition continued to deteriorate. Soon Warden Johnston decided Alcatraz was no longer the place for Al and he recommended Al be transferred to another facility.

The question was almost moot. Al didn't have much time left to serve. Although sentenced to 11 years, he was under "good-time" provisions. For each thirty days of good behavior an inmate had ten days deducted from his sentence. That made about four months per year plus other time was deducted for work¹³. So by 1938 Al's sentence had been whittled down to about 7 years. He had spent about four of those in Alcatraz.

Al was not released directly from The Rock. Direct release was not the usual procedure. We mentioned that a sentence on Alcatraz was to be temporary and was specifically intended to take the "bad apple" intransigent and - as the follicularly challenged of Quaint Towns of the American Southwest would say - "straighten him out". When the apple was no longer deemed bad he would be returned to another barrel to serve the remainder of his sentence.

On January 9, 1939, Al was transferred to the Federal Correctional Institution, Terminal Island, about a quarter of a mile offshore of Los Angeles. After being held there for 10 months (technically serving a separate sentence), he and federal marshals traveled across the country to the United States Penitentiary, Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Al arrived at five in the morning and spent less than two hours at the prison before being released to his wife Mae (née Coughlin) and brother Ralph.

From Lewisburg, Al did not immediately go to his Palm Island mansion just next to Miami. Instead he was driven to the Union Memorial Hospital in Baltimore where a specialist took over his treatment. He stayed there and in the Philadelphia area where he had relatives before moving on to Florida.

There's a question. Was Al faking it? Some people who met him recalled him being perfectly normal and he seemed to be able to converse as well as in the old days. There are many cases of afflicted people showing no outward symptoms even into old age and getting along fine.

But why would Al want to fake it? Well, the government was still trying to get their back taxes of over $200,000. Although Al was living in a 14-room mansion with a swimming pool and claiming $40,000 a year was necessary to live on, he had no assets that the government could legally collect. Knowing that Al had unusual finances, the doctor was concerned about getting his fees and even contacted the government about it. The agents pointed out as they had been unable to collect anything, they couldn't give much hope for the doctor. However, Al did square his medical bill without undue delay.

In any case, if Al's condition was bogus that would require the physicians from Alcatraz to Baltimore to Miami to be in on the scam. Besides, the tests definitely confirmed that Al was in the tertiary stages of the disease. But the most telling reason why we know that Al really was in sad shape is that he voluntarily underwent periodic treatment for the disease, treatments that were uncomfortable to say the least.

"Agonizing" is a better word. Although today penicillin can cure early stages of the disease, in Al's day a common treatment was injections of a solution of 4,4'-(1,2-Diarsendiyl)bis(2-aminophenol)dihydrochloride which was sold as Salvarsan. This arsenic compound was a highly toxic chemical in its own right, but to dissolve the chemical in water you had to add it to a small amount of methyl alcohol, itself an acute poison. The injections required the patient to lie face down, trap door open, and receive two injections, one on each cheek (yes, those cheeks). The pain from the injections could last more than a week and could be so severe that sometimes narcotics had to be administered.

Although these treatments could offer relief at the early stages of the disease, they were not effective in cases where the bacteria had invaded the brain and spine. The only alternative available in Al's day was not to be taken lightly either. That was hyperthermia - deliberately raising the body temperature for extended times.

The idea that high temperatures can cure illness is an ancient once. But the use of controlled hypethermia was a 20th century idea and you'll still see modern articles on the topic. But it is not a method that has universal approbation and it can be quite dangerous.

Even if the heat treatment does work, the problem is how to raise the body temperature for extended times without inflicting permanent damage on or even killing the patient. One of the - quote - "modern methods" - unquote - was - and this is no joke - by deliberately infecting the patient with malaria.

The physicians would literally inject live malaria bacteria into the patient's bloodstream. Once the malarial fever hit, it would sometimes drive the patient's temperature as high as 104 degrees¹⁴. The heat, so the theory went, would kill the Treponema pallidum which is a bacterium, but not the Plasmodium, a single cell parasite that causes the malaria. After a suitable time, the patient was given quinine to cure the malaria.

Today there have been no proper clinical studies or evaluation of how effective the malariotherapy (as it was called) is, and it is not used today. But in the olden days it was estimated that 50 % of the patients to whom the disease had caused mental problems exhibited at least some improvement. On the other hand it's also estimated that 15% of the patients using the cure died of the malaria.

Despite the hazards and uncertainty of the treatment, the doctor who invented the treatment, Julius Wagner-Jauregg, won the 1927 Nobel Prize in Medicine. But history has not been too kind to Julius particularly since he was a strong supporter of the political aspirations of the grandson of Maria Schicklgruber. Later he recommended drastic treatments for curing the vice so abhorred of Dr. John Harvey Kellogg.

But by the late 1930's, other hyperthermia treatments had been developed mostly by raising body's external temperature until the internal temperature reached the point where it felt the bacteria would be killed. Of course, these methods required physician supervision and today are no longer used.

Despite the concerns and uncertainty, the heat treatment was reported to have at least slowed the progression of Al's disease. He soon moved to his Palm Island estate.

There he lived the remainder of his life. Again it's a bit uncertain how he was getting along. Some people said he seemed fine. Others said he was under constant supervision by his family. These two criteria are not, we must add, mutually exclusive.

Al remained talkative. So one concern - particularly for Ralph - is he would blab about the family's - ah - "business". However, it's unlikely Al remembered many of the details of his past life.

He had trouble sleeping and so the family would go to bed around ten at night and began the day around three in the morning. In addition to family members, there were servants around to help out. Stories that Al spent a lot of time fishing in the swimming pool were discounted by family members. But he did like to fish and would go on expeditions in the ocean.

In 1942, Al became one of the first civilians to be treated with the new wonder drug, penicillin. The drug seemed to take care of the bacteria, but it could not reverse the brain damage.

Then on January 17, 1947, Al collapsed from a brain hemorrhage. His condition seemed serious enough that a priest was summoned to administer the last rites. Although Al seemed to be pulling through, he died on January 25, age 48. He was taken to Chicago and buried in the Mount Olivet Cemetery. For years, the marker was obscured by foliage. But now Al's family name is clear and visible.

Mainly because Al isn't there. Due to the publicity and the thousands of people tramping to the cemetery, in 1950 Al was moved to the Mount Carmel Cemetery sixteen miles to the northeast. That's where his mom was buried and his father reinterred.

Despite what you may think, the family did not really continue the family business. Frank had been killed in a gunfight with Chicago police in 1928. On election day some detectives had gotten out of their car by a polling station. Frank was standing by and the officers said he took a shot at them. Apparently Frank mistook the plainsclothesmen for members of a rival gang. Frank was the only Capone brother to meet this fate.

Although Ralph was assumed to be in charge, others of the old mob like Frank Nitti and Tony Accardo - known as "Joe Batters" - had really taken over¹⁵. But Ralph couldn't convince the government of that. He was questioned repeatedly by federal officers and on December 20, 1950, he was hauled before the famous Kefauver Committee. Ralph ultimately worked (officially) as a bottled water distributor, and despite his protestation that he was an honest businessman, historians generally consider him a minor figure in the mob.

Minor figure or not, Ralph finally got tired of the hassle of being Al Capone's brother. He moved to Wisconsin and ran a small bar in Mercer. He scarcely had an opulent lifestyle and one story had him living in a garage apartment. He died in 1974 in Hurley about 20 miles to the north of Mercer.

The youngest of the Capone brothers, Matthew, also ran a bar. But he stuck close to the old stomping grounds in Cicero which was the Chicago suburb where the Capone family had lived. In the 1940's he was suspected of a murder but went on the lam for almost a year. By the time he resurfaced, the witnesses were nowhere to be found. Matthew died in 1967 at age 59.

The other brothers fared better - or at least they lived longer. Albert changed his surname to Rayola in 1942 and lived until 1980. John changed his name to Martin and hung on until 1985. Al's only sister, Mafalda, had married a man named Johnny Maritote in 1930, and she died in 1988. Her husband lived for another nine years.

Mae, Al's long suffering but always loyal wife, lived until 1989 but where she is actually buried is unknown. She had not been pleased when the TV show The Untouchables became a hit and her attempts to have the show shut down came to naught. Dezi Arnaz, who along with his wife Lucielle Ball were the shows producers, had actually gone to school with Sonny, Al and Mae's only child. Probably as a consolation to the family, the show rarely featured Al. Instead, the big bad boss was Frank Nitti, played by Bruce Gordon.

Sonny remained in Florida. He got a degree in business administration and ran a restaurant. Finally fed up with being hassled about being the Son of Al Capone, he changed his name to Albert Francis Brown. An ironic choice since the one alias that his dad, Al "Scarface" Capone, actually used was - Albert Brown.

 

References and Further Reading

Capone: The Life and World of Al Capone, John Kobler, Da Capo Press, 1992.

Capone: The Man and the Era, Laurence Bergreen, Simon and Schuster, 1996.

The History of Alcatraz: The Fort/The Prison, Pierre Odier, L'Image Odier, 1982.

Former Alcatraz Inmates List, National Archives at San Francisco.

"Train to Alcatraz", John Martini, OpenSF History.

"Did Ellis Island Officials Really Change the Names of Immigrants?", Alicia Ault, Smithsonian Magazine, December 28, 2016.

"Notorious Criminals Served Time at Lewisburg's 'Big House'", Eric Scicchitano, U.S. News & World Report, December 28, 2019.

"Al Capone in Miami", Casey Piket, Miami History, May 18, 2015.

"Royal C. Cline", Federal Bureau of Prisons.

On the Rock: Twenty-Five Years in Alcatraz, Alvin Karpis and Robert Livesey, Beaufort Books, 1980.

Public Enemy Number One: The Alvin Karpis Story, Alvin Karpis and Bill Trent, McClelland and Stewart, 1971.

"Of Syphilis and Salvarsan: The Danger and Promise of Cure", Dittrick Medical History Center, Case Western Reserve University, October 26, 2017.

"Healing With Malaria: a Brief Historical Review of Malariotherapy for Neurosyphilis, Mental Disorders and Other Infectious Diseases", Daniel Roberto Coradi Freitas, João Barberino Santos, and Cleudson Nery Castro, Revista da Sociedade Brasileira de Medicina Tropical, Volume 47, Number 2, March/April 2014.

The Untouchables, Eliot Ness and Oscar Fraley, Popular Library, 1959

Speaking Ill of the Dead: Jerks in Chicago History, Adam Selzer and William Griffith, Rowman and Littlefield, 2012.

Nuclear Realism: Global Political Thought During the Thermonuclear Revolution, Rens van Munster and Casper Sylvest, Routledge, 2016.

"Whole Body Hyperthermia at 43.5-44°C: Dreams or Reality?", Alexey Suvernev, Georgy Ivanov, Anatoly Efremov, and Roman Tchervov, Madame Curie Bioscience Database, National Center for Biotechnology Information.

"Capone Is Stabbed by Alcatraz Felon", The New York Times, June 24, 1936.

"The Man Who Tried to Kill Al Capone", National Park Service.

"Former Outlaw Now Lives Quietly", Anthony Thornton, Daily Oklahoman, April 17, 1988.

"Reputed Chicago Crime Kingpin Won’t be Prosecuted", David Goeller, Associated Press, March 3, 1985.

"Fever", Mayo Clinic.

"Albert Francis 'Sonny' Capone, Jr.", Iris Watts, Find-a-Grave, Memorial # 77124965, September 26, 2011.

"James Crittenton Lucas", Find-a-Grave, Memorial # 112473285, June 17, 2003.

"Al Capone", Find-a-Grave, Memorial # 2845, May 1, 1998.

"The Brothers Capone", Allan May, Crime Magazine, October 15, 2009.

Secrets of Alcatraz, Doug McConnell (host), Phillip Bergen (Captain of Correctional Officers), Morton Sobell (Former Inmate), A la Carte Productions, Discovery Channel, 1992.

Alcatraz History, alcatrazhistory.com.

The Mob Museum, themobmuseum.org.