Alcatraz, the notorious prison located on an isolated island off the coast of San Francisco, has captured the imagination of many throughout its storied history. Despite these setbacks, construction on the main prison building started in 1907. This turned the 22-acre island that was once a naval defense fort into a military prison by the early 20th century. Over its 30 years of operation, Alcatraz housed some of America’s most violent criminals, including infamous names like Al Capone and Robert Stroud.
Among the last links to those days gone by is Charlie Hopkins, who just celebrated his 93rd birthday and today lives in Florida. In 1955, that brought him to Alcatraz to serve a 17 year sentence for kidnap and robbery. He would spend the next three years in prison on that notorious island. As the last known former inmate, his perspective provides a novel glimpse into Alcatraz’s legacy. As a result, his reflections are particularly timely in light of recent discussions that the notorious prison could reopen.
Hopkins recalls his time at Alcatraz vividly, stating that when he left in 1958, “the security was so tight you couldn’t breathe.” His experience is a reminder of the extreme security that defined the facility while it was operational. Alcatraz would become famous for its adventurous, high-profile escapes, with 14 different escape attempts for a whopping 36 inmates. In June 1962, Frank Morris and his so-called brothers, Clarence and John Anglin, gained national acclaim for their audacious escape from Alcatraz. They made life-sized papier-mâché heads to distract the guards as they crawled through ventilation ducts to freedom.
Though an infamous prison filled with some of America’s most dangerous criminals, Alcatraz was a fascinating and mysterious location. The island—ringed by icy waters boiling with turbulent currents—was a dauntingly inhospitable terrain for someone trying to find a way out. Despite its atypical surroundings, Alcatraz was singular in one respect. The infamous criminals that tread its corridors only continued to bolster its wicked fame. Villains like James “Whitey” Bulger made their imprints on the federal prison’s nefarious legacy.
When asked about present negotiations to reopen Alcatraz as an operational prison complex, Hopkins voiced his doubt. “He don’t really want to open that place,” he remarked, indicating his doubts about whether it would be feasible or safe to operate such a facility again.
So in 1963, the federal government announced the closing of Alcatraz. It was cheaper, they decided, to construct new prisons than keep up the rapidly aging structure on the island. Though he moved away five years before its permanent closure, Hopkins still carries with him memories of what went down inside its walls. Reflecting on the facilities at the time, he noted, “Back then, the sewage system went into the ocean,” a testament to the outdated infrastructure that ultimately contributed to its closure.
Now, Alcatraz serves as a reinvigorated publicly run museum. It serves millions of visitors each year and brings in about $60 million a year in economic impact to the region for park partners. This transformation from a maximum-security prison into a tourist destination underscores society’s fascination with its history and the notorious figures who once resided there.
Hopkins’s memories conjure up the sounds, smells and feel of his own childhood. They illuminate a very important chapter in American history. As he reflects on his experiences, he acknowledges a sense of loneliness, quoting Hank Williams: “I’m so lonesome I could cry.” That feeling perfectly sums up the despair many experienced behind those bars.
As debates over the future of Alcatraz during those years still resonate today, Charlie Hopkins remains a remarkable individual embodiment of its contradictory legacy. His reflections offer a rare glimpse of what it’s really like to be an inmate in one of America’s most infamous penitentiaries. They act as an indictment against reopening such a facility.
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