P. Nulty, Private Eye, in “Escape from Alcatraz”

The arms of the fog slowly enfolded the city behind us until we seemed a thousand miles at sea. Suddenly up ahead loomed the place they called “The Rock.” It looked bigger than Gibraltar—like some ghostly liner carrying lost souls to the nether world. Come to think of it, that wasn't a bad analogy. After all, hundreds of careers had ended inside those granite, escape‐proof walls. “The Rock” was a vale of tears, no doubt about it.