My Life with Bonnie and Clyde Read online

  MY LIFE WITH

  Bonnie & Clyde

  Blanche Caldwell Barrow

  EDITED BY JOHN NEAL PHILLIPS

  FOREWORD BY ESTHER L. WEISER

  UNIVERSITY OF OKLAHOMA PRESS : NORMAN

  2800 Venture Drive

  Norman, Oklahoma 73069

  www.oupress.com

  Copyright © 1939 by Farrar & Rinehart, Inc. Assigned 1954 to the University of Oklahoma Press, Publishing Division of the University, Norman. All rights reserved. Manufactured in the U.S.A. New edition, 1955.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—except as permitted under Section 107 or 108 of the United States Copyright Act— without the prior permission of the University of Oklahoma Press.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, University of Oklahoma Press, 2800 Venture Drive, Norman, Oklahoma 73069 or email [email protected].

  ISBN 978-0-8061-3715-5 (paperback : alk. paper)

  ISBN 978-0-8061-8677-1 (ebook : mobipocket)

  ISBN 978-0-8061-8676-4 (ebook : epub)

  This eBook was converted from the original source file by a third-party vendor. Readers who notice any formatting, textual, or readability issues are encouraged to contact the publisher at [email protected].

  Contents

  List of Illustrations

  List of Maps

  Foreword, by Esther L. Weiser

  Editor’s Preface

  Editor’s Introduction

  Chronology

  1. View from a Cell

  2. Marriage

  3. Buck Makes a Pardon

  4. Joplin

  5. Ruston

  6. Friction

  7. Mother’s Day

  8. Florida

  9. A Visit with My Father

  10. Wellington

  11. Fort Smith

  12. Platte City

  13. Dexfield Park

  14. Mob

  15. Court

  Afterword

  Editor’s Conclusion

  Appendix A: Reproduction of Two Pages from the Original Manuscript

  Appendix B: Blanche’s Letter to Her Father, November 11, 1933

  Appendix C: Buck’s Letter Home, January 16, 1930

  Appendix D: The Barrow Gang’s Victims

  Appendix E: Blanche’s Preliminary Parole Report

  Notes

  Bibliography

  Index

  Illustrations

  Blanche, as a child, 1914

  Buck and Blanche, 1931

  Bonnie and Clyde, 1933

  Blanche in the Missouri State Penitentiary for Women, 1933

  Texas State Penitentiary, Huntsville, Texas, prior to remodeling

  Eastham Prison Farm, Camp 1

  Eastham dormitory, 2001

  Cinderella Beauty Shoppe, Denison, Texas, 1932

  Bonnie Parker

  W. D. Jones, 1933

  Raymond Hamilton

  Ralph Fults

  Blanche with Snow Ball

  Clyde Barrow, 1933

  3347½ Oak Ridge, Joplin, Missouri, 1933

  Blanche drinking from a flask, 1931

  Clyde Barrow, 1933

  Constable Wes Harryman and family

  Detective Harry McGinnis

  W. D. Jones, 1933

  First State Bank in Okabena, Minnesota, 1933

  Rear of the old First State Bank building, Okabena, Minnesota, 2003

  Elvin “Jack” Barrow

  Nell Barrow Cowan, Clyde Barrow, Artie Barrow Winkler, 1933

  Barrow-Parker family visit, 1934

  Blanche in Pensacola, Florida, 1931

  Blanche and Buck near Nashville, Tennessee, 1930

  Blanche in Mobile, Alabama, 1931

  Matthew Caldwell, Blanche’s father

  Wrecked car near Wellington, Texas, 1933

  Twin Cities Tourist Camp, Fort Smith, Arkansas

  Billie Parker Mace, 1934

  W. D. Jones, 1933

  Blanche on top of car

  Marshal Henry D. Humphrey, 1933

  Red Crown Cabins, 1933

  Red Crown Tavern, 1933

  Slim’s Castle, 1933

  Sheriff Holt Coffey, 1933

  Spectators examining bullet holes, Red Crown Cabins, 1933

  Clyde Barrow

  “Noah’s Ark,” a covered bridge, 1933

  Dexfield Park, 1920s

  Bonnie and Clyde

  Six-man posse at Dexfield Park, 1933

  Blanche being arrested, 1933

  Buck Barrow lying amid his captors, 1933

  Blanche handcuffed, 1933

  Weapons recovered in Dexfield Park, 1933

  Blanche after fingerprinting, 1933

  Blanche being transferred to Missouri, 1933

  Buck Barrow in hospital, 1933

  Missouri State Penitentiary for Women

  Female defendants, “Barrow-Parker harboring trial,” February 22, 1935

  Clarence Coffey

  Camp 1, Missouri State Penitentiary for Women

  Blanche and Edna Murray

  Blanche in prison

  Handwritten lyrics to “Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen”

  “White dresses on dark girls”

  Postcard of the USS Arizona

  Lillian Pond Horton, Blanche Barrow, and Cumie Barrow

  Blanche’s half-sister, Lucinda, 1934

  A page from one of Blanche’s scrapbooks

  Blanche and her father

  Eddie Frasure, 1943

  “Scarecrow”

  Blanche in downtown Dallas

  Matt Caldwell logging near Idabel, Oklahoma, 1906

  Eddie and Blanche

  Buck Barrow, 1931

  Advertisement for Bonnie and Clyde

  Mary O’Dare

  Artie and Blanche

  Blanche riding her favorite horse

  Billie Jean Parker Moon, 1968

  Blanche and Esther L. Weiser, 1984

  W. D. Jones, 1969

  Blanche and ukelele

  Blanche and Buck Barrow, 1931

  Blanche Caldwell Barrow, 1932

  Maps

  Blanche Barrow in the United States

  Joplin, Missouri

  Dallas, 1933

  Fort Smith and Alma, Arkansas

  Red Crown Tavern and Cabins, Platte City, Missouri

  Platte County, Missouri

  Dexfield Park, Iowa

  Foreword

  IT WAS DECEMBER 1951, just before Christmas. I was having lunch with my friend Ferne at the Federal Square Grill in Grand Rapids, Michigan. We were talking about a doctor’s recent recommendation that my four-year-old son, Jon, who suffered from asthma and was quite frail, might benefit from a move to a dry, warm climate. Ferne had lived in Mexico and recommended the Southwest, specifically Dallas. It was large enough to provide employment, had good medical facilities, and was not “big city,” like Chicago.

  However, neither one of us knew anyone in Texas, certainly no one who could provide some kind of emergency support system. I wondered what I should do. I realized I would probably have to wing it on my own and simply trust in the good Lord to provide. I felt like I was about to take a so-called leap of faith. However, the good Lord was not about to wait until I arrived in Dallas before intervening.

  At that moment the cafe hostess, Tex, came by the table and said in a lovely, soft, Texas drawl, “Honey, couldn’t help but overhear ya’ll talkin’ ’bout Dallas. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but that’s ma hometow
n. Kin I help?”

  After we told her what we planned to do and why, Tex took my hand and led me to a phone near the cash register. Then she placed a call.

  “Blanchehoney,” she said, making the two words sound as one. “I have a friend here who needs a friend and a place to stay until she kin get settled in Dallas. She doesn’t know a soul thar. She has a little boy with asthma. The doc wants her to try a dryer, warmer climate. What do you think?” Tex listened a moment, then turned to me.

  “Honey, this is Blanche,” she said, nodding toward the phone. “Blanche, this is Esther,” she said. Tex handed me the receiver and stepped aside. That was my introduction to Blanche Barrow. I had no idea who the person was on the other end of the line, just somebody with a big heart named Blanche living in Texas.

  Blanche gave me her address and phone number and then said, “Get on that Super Chief and head fer Dallas. Just tell the taxi driver I live in Pleasant Grove.”

  Jon and I stayed in Grand Rapids until after Christmas and then left for Texas. In Dallas we took a taxi, just as Blanche suggested. However, finding Pleasant Grove was another story. The driver finally stopped and asked for directions. It was way out in the country at that time. Finally, we found a neat, small white house with flowers around the front stoop and a short concrete walk from the dirt road. It was Blanche’s place.

  The change proved beneficial for Jon. He gained ten pounds the first month and suddenly had a lot more energy. I soon found a job and was actually planning to move to Texas permanently later in the year. However, such a move would prove unnecessary. Back in Michigan, Jon’s doctor had become aware of a new drug developed for the treatment of asthma as part of a study by the University of Michigan Hospital. Jon was included in that study and his asthma was brought under control. He could finally tolerate Michigan’s changing weather. So we stayed there.

  Blanche and I stayed in touch over the years. Then, when economic circumstances brought me back to Dallas in the 1970s, we renewed our friendship. Initially, however, I had a little trouble locating Blanche because she had moved, apparently rather suddenly, from the Dallas area just about the time I arrived there. I kept calling her, but no one ever answered. Finally, one weekend I decided to find Blanche once and for all. With my trusty Mapsco and a listing from the phone book, I took off in search of her. However, all I found was a vacant lot in a mobile home development. I felt like Sam Spade looking for Brigid O’Shaughnessy in The Maltese Falcon. Lucky for me, however, the lady next door happened to come out on her porch to shake some rugs. I went over to talk to her, hoping she might be able to help.

  “Blanche moved over a month ago,” the lady said. “But I have her phone number. Come in and we’ll call her.” Those words were music to my ears.

  The next thing I knew I was talking to dear Blanche and had directions to her new address near the town of Mabank, southeast of Dallas. With that I was “on the road again.” Soon I was hugging Blanche in the flesh. It was a wonderful day. I found out that Bonnie Parker’s niece, Rhea Leen Linder, had moved both Blanche and Bonnie’s sister, Billie Jean, near Mabank so they could be near her and she could watch over them.

  Shortly after Blanche and I got together again, she was diagnosed with lung cancer. A longtime smoker, Blanche had finally quit, but it was too late. I had always felt that God must have had something special in mind when Blanche and I chanced to meet way back in 1952. Suddenly I knew what it was. My children were grown. I was on my own. Therefore, it was possible for me to help care for Blanche during her last illness.

  During that period, I came to know Bonnie’s sister Billie; Billie’s husband A. B. Moon; and Rhea Leen, who was the daughter of Buster Parker but who had been raised by Billie Jean. These people cared for Blanche. They were a group of people possessed of a tremendous sense of family love and loyalty. Billie’s husband, in particular, must occupy a special place in heaven. He was so good to those two old ladies, Blanche and Billie, both of whom could be very cantankerous and demanding, and yet at other times so much fun to be around. All of this helped me to understand a different side of the Bonnie and Clyde saga.

  Much time has passed. Blanche, Billie, and A. B. are all gone now. I think of them often. I am grateful to have been included in their family circle.

  When Blanche died in 1988, I was named executor of her estate, such as it was. Blanche really had very few material possessions. My task was largely to make sure that debts were paid, papers were filed, and the other assorted loose ends of her life were attended to.

  On the advice of my lawyer, I held on to a number of Blanche’s records, just in case something ever came up. Nothing ever did, and twelve years later, I still had all of those documents boxed up and stored in my garage. I asked my lawyer if it would be all right to discard some of those items. I was told that enough time had passed and that some housecleaning would be appropriate.

  I started going through all the boxes, making sure I was not about to toss something important. That is when I discovered Blanche’s handwritten account of the time she and Buck Barrow had spent in the company of Bonnie and Clyde. It was almost thrown into the trash.

  The account was written on an Empire Writing Tablet No. F-1024 on lined paper 8½ by 11 inches. Blanche had placed this tablet inside a large (8½-by-11) colorful Christmas card. It shows two ice-skaters on a moonlit night with a lovely home and church in the background. All is lit by a full moon, smoke is coming out of the chimney, and a horse-drawn sleigh is seen by the shore. Inside, the card reads:

  Christmas Greetings to the One I Love:

  I’m sending you at Christmas time my love across the sea,

  and I hope that you shall hold a place in your dear heart for me.

  Though time and distance part us, our love shall always be secure

  in all its blessings which it holds for you and me.”

  On the back, written in ink in Blanche’s hand are the words “written in 1933 or 34 & 35 Part of my story with the Barrow gang. Blanche Barrow.”

  I wonder if she was thinking of Buck when she wrote those words and put them in that particular card.

  Because I knew that Blanche would have wanted this story told to a wider audience and because I knew of his earlier work with the Bonnie and Clyde saga, I turned Blanche’s handwritten “memoir” over to John Neal Phillips, asking him to prepare it for publication. I am glad I did.

  The Blanche I knew was the antithesis of the young girl blinded by love and caught up in the tragedy of Bonnie and Clyde. She was a gardener, a lover of all creatures (whether animal or human), a builder of churches, and yes, even a Sunday school teacher. Indeed, she made certain all her Sunday school pupils left her class with their own Bible. She told me that the only thing she ever stole was a Gideon Bible from a tourist court and she wanted to be sure that none of her “kids” would have to steal a Bible. Blanche gave each of them one as they were promoted to the next class.

  Blanche also had a wonderful sense of humor, Billie Jean too, something they both kept right up to the end. They were a regular comedy team. I am certain they are keeping St. Peter busy. Moreover, he had better watch out! If he ever turns his back on those two, they just might open up heaven’s pearly gates and let everybody in!

  ESTHER L. WEISER

  Editor’s Preface

  THE FIRST TIME I ever heard the names Bonnie and Clyde was from my father. Sometime around the age of ten, as a result of watching the television series The Untouchables, I became interested in the outlaws of the 1920s and 1930s. My father had lived in Chicago during the period of Al Capone and Elliot Ness and used to regale me with his memories of those days. (He lived around the corner from the location of the infamous St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.) Interspersed with tales of Chicago would be the names of other outlaws and lawmen of the day, Bonnie and Clyde among them. In my adolescent reality, I found myself mildly interested in a couple who would die together as outlaws rather than live apart.

  This initial, admittedly superfi
cial contact with America in the early part of the twentieth century nevertheless left me with something I have found eminently useful throughout my life, the knowledge that the record of a given event may not necessarily be an accurate account of that event. Because my father’s memory of Chicago often differed greatly from what was being portrayed on the small screen—and it was his take on things that he announced loudly and clearly—I suddenly became acutely aware of the possibility of misinterpreted facts, or in some cases a complete lack of facts, especially in the hands of the entertainment industry. Since then, I have tried never to take for granted any record of fact. I know that accounts can vary and that secondary sources sometimes misinterpret details from their primary sources, and that even primary sources can leave one’s head spinning because of the differences, sometimes significant, that arise from multiple accounts of the very same incident. Any historian attempting to reconstruct the past will encounter this, but the problems of sifting through the lives of a pair of intensely hunted outlaws such as Bonnie and Clyde are enormous. Not only were the fugitives and their inner circle secretive by the very nature of their existence, but the legions of law enforcement officials tracking them were secretive as well. Such a trait opens the door to the substitution of speculation, folklore, and misinformation for sound fact, some of which has been accepted for decades. Almost everyone dealing with this subject, myself included, has fallen victim to this very common phenomenon, common at least when dealing with Bonnie and Clyde. Therefore, I consider the publication of the memoir of Blanche Caldwell Barrow a major moment for students of the subject.

  One may ask why we should care about the brief, tragic lives of a pair of Texans who wrought so much pain and suffering on so many innocent people. Some even complain that to discuss them or other criminals does nothing more than glorify them. However, when placed in the larger context of the socioeconomic times of the Great Depression, coupled with other factors like the culture of the Texas prison system, named the worst such institution in the nation in 1935, and the seductive nature of crime in general, there is much to be learned. If we view history as the collective memory of society, enabling us to progress into the future without encountering the same foibles that plagued our forebears, then we realize that every aspect of the past holds lessons. If we wish to eradicate crime, or at least gain control of it, then we should make a serious study of all criminals, especially Bonnie and Clyde, a couple who were not motivated in the least by money or greed, but by revenge. In his great work, Life of Reason, philosopher George Santayana wrote, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” I do not think anyone would deny that society stands to benefit from examining its collective memory, its history, regarding crime and criminal behavior.