Solitary Science

a life sentence. Rarely do we hear stories about what happens after someone goes to jail. But there's one man who's famous for what he accomplished behind bars. His work, which was all done while he lived in solitary confinement, cemented him as one of history's most prolific self taught science, and it earned him the nickname the Birdman of Alcatraz.

His real name was Robert Stroud. He was born in Seattle, Washington, in eighteen ninety, but he dropped out of school and ran away to Alaska when he was just thirteen years old. And well, he did not walk the Strait and Narrow. In nineteen oh nine, eighteen year old Robert killed a man in a bar fight. He pled guilty demandslaughter and

was sentenced to twelve years in prison. He spent three years at McNeil Island before being transferred to Levenworth, a facility notorious for its poor living conditions and cruel treatment of inmates. Robert hated Levenworth. He was known amongst the staff as a problem, and he definitely was. In nineteen sixteen, when he was twenty six years old, Robert stabb then killed a prison guard. As you might imagine, actions like this were generally frowned upon, and in Robert's case, they

landed him on death row. But in a strange twist, then President Woodrow Wilson commuted Robert's sentence to life, which I'm sure seemed wonderful to Robert's at first. But the problem was there was a huge catch. Robert would spend the rest of his days in solitary confinement. He was only allowed to leave a cell once a day for exercise in a private prison yard. It was during one of these exercise breaks that Robert found a bird's nest.

Inside were three injured baby canaries. For whatever reason, maybe sympathy maybe boredom, Robert smuggled the baby birds back to his cell. He gave them water and food from his own meager rations. Now these canaries didn't stay secret for long. The sound of their chirping filled the hall where Robert lived. But the warden thought maybe these feathered friends could be good company for the inmate, so he allowed Robert to

keep them. With nothing to do except sit in his cell and care for his birds, Robert became really interested in ornithology, which is a fancy word for bird science. He asked the warden for some ornithology textbooks, and the warden, who noticed that Robert's behavior had become much better since he got these pets, happily obliged. Now, even though Robert only had a great school education, he read the books front to back and learned everything he possibly could about birds,

biology and behavior. Over the next few years, he bred his canaries, going from three birds to over three hundred. Solitary confinement all of a sudden, wasn't so solitary anymore. As you might imagine, These many canaries posed a logistical problem. Robert's cell was cramped with homemade bird cages. Not to mention the smell which permeated the entire hallway. Still, the warden continued to allow it. But then roberts encountered a problem.

One of his birds fell ill. Using his textbooks, he diagnosed his pet with a bacterial infection known as avian hemorrhagic septocemia. It was a contagious disease, and before long it started spreading to his other birds. Avian hemorrhagic septocemia had no known cure, but Robert, who'd been living in solitary confinement for years with no friends except his canaries, wasn't going to sit by and let his beloved birds die. He asked the warden for laboratory e quips and various chemicals,

and again the warden said yes. Robert turned his cell into a science lab, and after much trial and error and many canary funerals, he did it. He created a cure. Robert later published his findings and wrote two full length books on ornithology, and in the process he cemented himself as one of the world's foremost ornithological experts, all from inside his prison cell. Obviously, Robert Stroud wasn't perfect. He was later caught using that same lab equipment to distill alcohol.

The warden, who had placed so much trust in him, felt betrayed. As a punishment, Robert was transferred to Alcatraz, which is where he got his nickname. But despite being called the Birdman of Alcatraz, he wasn't actually allowed to bring any of his canaries with him. Robert Stroud passed away in nineteen sixty three. He spent a total of fifty four years incarcerated, and forty two of those were

spent in solitary confinement. The Birdman of Alcatraz left behind a complicated legacy, but still he's a testament to what you can accomplish when you have determination, a dream, and a whole lot of free time on your hands. Everyone wants to leave their mark on the world, something that stays behind long after you're gone. Most of us have seen cave paintings, animals being hunted, and little handprints left

by people who are deep in the ground. But there are other examples that really get to the hearts of how weird and funny humanity is and how we have fundamentally always been the same. The tombs of ancient Egyptian kings are littered with thousands of pieces of ancient graffiti from ye old tourists, including one inscription from a disgruntled Roman that read, I visited and I did not like

anything except the sarcophagus. In moments of stress, bored or maybe both people get fidgety and they tend to doodle. In war zones, there are significantly fewer notebook margins available, but docks, chunks of destroyed buildings, and bar countertops are still open for one or two little pieces of scribbling. For soldiers in the Atlantic and Pacific theaters during World War II, there was a shocking amount of time between pushes, so they started to play a game. There's some debate

over how and where it started. Some think that it was a shipyard in Massachusetts that was churning out ships for the war effort. According to that story, there was an inspector in the yard who had the check that the rivets were functioning properly, often climbing down into tight spaces and leaving check marks as he went. One day, the inspector realized that someone was tampering with his check marks. Workers knew that if inspectors had to come back a

second time, their pay would be increased. After thinking for a while, he devised a new system, something a little more personal and permanent. The inspector began marking his completed checks with a spray can, leaving his own name be Soon, Kilroy was Here was stamped on hundreds of pieces of machinery. Soldiers across the Atlantic and Pacific were getting introduced to Kilroy, and, without knowing the original meaning, decided to make it their

own inside joke. Kilroy was here, complete with the little doodle that began appearing anywhere and everywhere. This is only one version of Kilroy's origins. Other accounts, though, point to a man named Francis J. Kilroy Junior from Florida who was very sick. According to the story, he wrote, Kilroy will be here next week on the wall of his barracks. But what's more interesting is that other countries had their

own versions of Kilroy. Australian soldiers had fo during World War One, also a big nose cartoon peeking over a wall. Mister Chad appeared in England with his own nose coming from the Greek symbol for omega. Wherever he really came from. Kilroy became an integral part of World War Two, A meme that spread from soldier to soldier and country to country. In moments of lonely isolation, a little joke from home

could go a long way. It's hard to believe such an innocent, little drawing would draw the attention of Hitler or Stalin. When I say Kilroy was everywhere, I mean it. The ruins of cities, the insides and outsides of tanks, painted on airplanes, and the ordinance fired. Yes, that's right. Some manufacturers with a sense of humors started slapping Kilroy

on Air Force missiles that were being launched against the Nazis. Now, the rest of the story might be more fiction than fact, but I think you'll agree that it's too good a story not to pass up. Over the course of the war, Kilroy became a sign of hope for Allied forces, especially after they started making breakthroughs further into Axis territory. The more Kilroys were there, the more Americans were there. For

the Nazis, However, Kilroy became something more sinister. Apparently, Hitler and several other high ranking Nazis wondered if Kilroy was some kind of an American spy A lah James Bond. His signature seemed to be everywhere, discovered right before or right after a massive Allied attack, it seemed reasonable to assume he was a super soldier or a master spy

who had infiltrated Axis territory. According to one story, which may or may not be exaggerated, Hitler even ordered a contingent of soldiers to track down the American, but shockingly, no one ever found Kilroy. Stalin shared their paranoia too. Apparently, at the Potsdam Conference in Germany, American forces had to use the bathroom and, in the time honored tradition, doodled on the wall of the stall. When the Great Man himself had to use the head, he was unamused to

discover Kilroy had already made it their first. Allegedly, he told his officials to find whoever it was responsible and do away with them. Kilroy is still everywhere if you know where to look. Stories place him at the Arc de Triomphan Paris, on Mount Everest, at the Great Wall of China, and even on the Moon. Now those are all unconfirmed tall tales, of course, but there's one place I know you'll find him if you look. See if you visit the World War II Memorial in Washington, DC.

You'll find monuments to those that served in the Atlantic and Pacific, and in two different spots you can see a little bald head peering over a wall, reminding everyone that Kilroy was there. I hope you've enjoyed today's guided tour of the Cabinet of Curiosities. Subscribe for free on Apple Podcasts, or learn more about the show by visiting Curiosities podcast dot com. The show was created by me

Aaron Mankey in partnership with how Stuff Works. I make another award winning show called Lore, which is a podcast, book series, and television show, and you can learn all about it over at the Worldoflore dot com. And until next time, stay curious.