My Life with Bonnie and Clyde Read online

  My boyhood fascination with underworld events, as filtered through my father, subsided as I came of age, but my interest in history did not. In college I lived overseas on a scholarship and studied firsthand the very places where society was born thousands of years ago. However, in 1980, I came back to outlaws. In that year, Andre L. Gorzell and I co-authored an essay about Bonnie Parker for the book Legendary Ladies of Texas (E-Heart Press, 1980). The essay was really rather inauspicious, but it led to my being introduced to former Barrow gang member Ralph Fults, who in turn introduced me to a host of others who knew Bonnie and Clyde, including Clyde’s sister Marie and his sister-in-law Blanche Caldwell Barrow. The result was my book, Running with Bonnie and Clyde: The Ten Fast Years of Ralph Fults (University of Oklahoma Press, 1996).

  Because I was privileged enough to have interviewed Blanche Barrow while conducting research for Running with Bonnie and Clyde, it was with particular pleasure that I accepted Esther Weiser’s invitation to edit and annotate her memoir. Apart from Blanche Barrow, only Esther ever knew of the memoir’s existence, and even she forgot about it until twelve years after the author’s death. Perhaps the manuscript’s rather caustic observations about some of the people toward whom Blanche later became very close kept her from pursuing its publication, or even revealing its existence. We may never know about that. However, concerning the value of history and the lessons to be learned from every story, even that of Bonnie and Clyde, we find a tangible thread throughout the memoir—the wholly unromantic, tension-filled life of a fugitive on the run.

  Blanche Caldwell Barrow is not objective at all in her record. Hers is a most subjective viewpoint. Nevertheless, therein lies the value of her story. Her observations of those around her during her time on the run are often unflattering, usually poignant, and always from the gut. There’s a sense of gritty reality throughout, with very little joy sprinkled here and there amidst long periods of grueling travels punctuated by brief periods of life-threatening activity—certainly not the stuff of romance and folklore. If ever there was a statement of the seductions and ultimate futility of crime, this is it!

  Helping young girls understand the circumstances that drew the daughter of an Oklahoma farmer and part-time preacher into the netherworld of Clyde and Buck Barrow was the apparent driving force behind this document. There is also an aspect of self-examination coupled with an overall tone of explanation, perhaps directed to her father, Matt Caldwell. However, Blanche states that the intent of her memoir was to illustrate the ease with which one can become mired and very nearly consumed by some social aberration such as a life of crime, or in her case a few months of crime, a very intense few months of crime.

  This was exactly what happened to Ralph Fults, who characterized his descent into juvenile delinquency and his later adult criminal behavior with the likes of Clyde Barrow and Raymond Hamilton as initially a game. Nevertheless, it did not take long for that game to become serious business. Before he knew it he was in way over his head, and although he eventually straightened himself out, the residue of that youthful “game,” as he called it, stayed with him all of his life. Certainly, such was the same for Blanche. Those few months on the run followed her wherever she went for the remainder of her nearly seventy-eight years.

  In some ways one can see that Blanche Caldwell Barrow was a victim, blinded to reality by her deep, intense love for Buck Barrow, Clyde Barrow’s older brother. Of Blanche’s abiding loyalty to her husband, a loyalty that would lead to her involvement in robbery, murder, and a life on the run during the spring and summer of 1933, W. D. Jones, a friend and accomplice, would later observe, “I never knew love could be so strong.”

  On the other hand, Blanche later admitted to her own complicity in the events leading to her husband’s death and her own imprisonment. “Clyde never held a gun to my head,” she said in a 1984 interview. “I was there because I wanted to be.” Moreover, she was quite aware of Buck’s background before she married him. She even spoke of accompanying Buck on robberies before his voluntary return to prison on December 27, 1931.

  Having heard these things from Blanche herself, I was somewhat surprised by the overall tone of her memoir. Throughout she maintains initial ignorance of Buck’s criminal activity and paints her dead husband as an unwilling participant in nearly everything that happened between April 13 and July 29, 1933. Even as she is relating how Buck told her of killing an Arkansas town marshal, she follows by stating that Buck “loved life and hated to take it.”

  Blanche also casts herself as a vehemently unwilling participant in the violence and robberies. However, while it may be true that she never handled a weapon, witnesses still saw her on at least two occasions helping Buck and Clyde flee from the scene of bank robberies, perhaps even firing a weapon during one of those escapades. She also said later that she was not exactly the picture of wide-eyed innocence she was supposed to be. In addition, of the hysterical portrayal of her in the 1967 Warren Beatty-Faye Dunaway film, Bonnie and Clyde, Blanche said, “That movie made me out like a screaming horse’s ass!” Yet, that is exactly how she portrays herself in her own memoir. Such is also the case in Jan Fortune’s book Fugitives and in the unpublished memoir of Clyde’s mother, Cumie Barrow. However, all three manuscripts were written at a time when Blanche could have easily been charged with murder, among other crimes. Indeed, the threat of a murder charge hung over Blanche all her life. No doubt this was on her mind as she began composing her memoir in her room at Camp 1 of the Missouri State Penitentiary in 1933 and may account for the discrepancy in its overall tone when compared with her later statements. Nevertheless, in many ways the Blanche of this memoir is not the same Blanche I interviewed in 1984.

  The memoir appears to be a first draft, evidently never progressing to more polished stages. It is very raw. The author was not unintelligent by any means—I found her sharp-witted, thoughtful, and articulate—but she was not very well educated. The original manuscript, written in longhand on a school tablet, contains little punctuation, nearly all of which is very irregular. Throughout the text, there are numerous dots, which at first may be taken as an overuse of periods. However, because of the injuries she sustained in the Platte City, Missouri, battle of July 19, 1933, it is likely the author was placing her pencil on the line she was working on whenever she paused or looked away from the page so she would not lose her place. One can imagine her hunched over her tablet, inches from the page, focusing her one “good” eye on her work, no doubt with limited success. Still, there are other difficulties with the memoir.

  Spelling is largely phonetic, sentences are lengthy run-ons, paragraphs are virtually non-existent, and while there are a few chapter headings, great long passages remain uncategorized, begging for some manner of separation from the rest of the text. The result is a rambling, at times incoherent record of events written seemingly in a cathartic state by an author wishing to exorcize some manner of demon. Indeed, despite her stated goal of warning others of the pitfalls of her early life, it may be that after writing everything down the author felt she had taken the memoir as far as she needed to and was no longer compelled to publish the work, or to even mention it afterward.

  However, in 1984, she was reunited with Ralph Fults after fifty-two years, and finding he was working with me on his own account of Bonnie and Clyde, Blanche dug out her all-but-forgotten memoir and handed it to Esther L. Weiser, asking her to see if anything could be done with it. A short time later, though, the author fell ill and the memoir was once again set aside.

  Once the memoir resurfaced and was examined thoroughly, it became evident that a lot of work was needed. To bring the piece to a publishable state would require careful editing. To that end, it was extremely helpful that I had already conducted so much research into the subject and had interviewed Blanche Caldwell Barrow before her death in 1988. This made it so much easier to regularize the text, adding punctuation; creating sentences, paragraphs, and chapters; and generally polishing the original without a
ltering the tone and content of the work. (See Appendix A for a comparison of two original pages with the corresponding finished work.)

  Throughout I have annotated the author’s record with notes designed to help the reader understand the context of the events portrayed. Wherever possible, I have given names, dates, and locations in the Notes, along with any other pertinent information.

  A number of people and organizations have helped in the development and publication of this important document. I would first like to extend my warmest regards and thanks to Esther L. Weiser, executor of the estate of Blanche Caldwell Barrow, for offering me the chance to work on the manuscript and for believing so wholeheartedly in my ability to do a good job with it. I also thank her for providing the Foreword to this book. I must also thank Lisa Hembry of the Dallas Historical Society who first suggested that I edit and annotate the memoir. I must thank Francis E. Abernethy, Ph.D., legendary Texas Folklore Society editor and all-around piney woods character, for giving me some sage advice with respect to editing this memoir. In addition, I must not forget to mention Kent Biffle of the Dallas Morning News, who gave me access to his rare 1969 taped interview with W. D. Jones and an even rarer letter from a former Eastham convict named Sterling Henson. Thanks as well to my longtime friend, author, and archivist parexcellence, Carol Roark of the Dallas Public Library, for helping me sift through the rather substantial holdings of the Texas/Dallas History Archives she oversees at the library’s downtown location. I must also extend a very hearty thanks to James R. Knight for his impeccable new research into the subject of Bonnie and Clyde and for readily sharing it with me. To retired warden Jim Willett, formerly of the Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, now of the Texas Prison Museum, I wish to express my sincerest thanks for giving me and other historians such unfettered access to the old Walls prison unit, among other places, and for his continuing interest in the truth, whatever it may be. Thanks to L. J. “Boots” Hinton for his wit and friendship and for making his collections available to me. Thanks also to Buddy Barrow for sharing his photo collection and his memories of his stepfather, LC Barrow, and for letting me pick his brain so often about the very detailed research he has done on his family. In addition, to Rhea Leen Linder many thanks for helping me with stories, pictures, and other artifacts related to her aunts, Billie Jean and Bonnie Parker. I should also like to mention my wife, Andre L. Gorzell, and our daughter, Angela Phillips, both of whom have been so supportive of all my projects, including this one. Moreover, I have to offer many thanks, albeit posthumously, to Ralph Fults, who started it all for me; Blanche Caldwell Barrow, who willingly shared her story with me even when it was apparent that doing so was immensely painful; and Marie Barrow, who graciously gave of her time and allowed me unlimited access to family papers, photographs, and other heirlooms, including Cumie Barrow’s unpublished manuscript, in an effort to help resolve the many unanswered questions about her brothers Clyde and Buck Barrow. Also, thanks to John Drayton and Alice Stanton and everyone at the University of Oklahoma Press for their aid and enthusiastic support. Ursula Smith deserves a word of thanks as well, for her excellent copy editing and other suggestions about the manuscript.

  Others to acknowledge include: Sergeant Bobby Adams, Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, Eastham Unit; Phyllis Adams, Oklahoma Historical Society Newspaper Archives; Frances “Francie” Baber; T. Lindsay Baker; Wilma Blohm; Warden Major David Bone, Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, Wynne Unit; Polly Bower, Seneca (Mo.) Branch Library; Charles Brown, Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Public Relations Office; Jack L. Burleson, St. John’s (Mo.) Bank and Trust; Linda Childress, Newton County (Mo.) Historical Society; Carolyn Chittendon, Camden County (Mo.) Library; Carolyn Couch, Oklahoma Historical Society Newspaper Archives; Kermit “Curley” Crawford; Christine [sic]; Michele DeLeon, Kansas City (Mo.) Public Library; Assistant Warden Joe R. Driskell, Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, Eastham Unit; Ola May Earnest, president, Linn County (Kans.) Historical Society Library and Museum; Robert C. Elston; Marvelle Feller; Bob Fischer; Trey Ford; Jimm Foster, Dallas Public Library, Texas/Dallas History Archives Division; Kenneth R. Fults; Ruth Fults; Liz Gaines, the Osborne Association; Michael Glennis, Springfield (Mo.) Library; William Goldman, Hempstead County (Ark.) Genealogical Society; Beverly Grant, Osborne Association; Rob Groman, Amarillo (Tex.) Public Library; Larry Grove; Jeanette Haley, Chandler County (Okla.) Library; Floyd Hamilton; Mildred Hamilton; Sherrie Langston Hardin, Joplin (Mo.) Public Library; Mary Harris, Culver-Union (Ind.) Public Library; Johnny Hayes; Mr. and Mrs. John W. “Preacher” Hays; Betty Hobgood, Swisher County (Tex.) Library; Ken M. Holmes, Jr.; Eloise Horak, Stephenville (Tex.) Public Library; Jim Hounschell, Joplin (Mo.) Historical Society; Janice Hoyt, Pratt (Kans.) Public Library; Mike Hughes; Jack [sic]; Lieutenant Lonny Johnson, Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, Walls Unit; Sandy Jones; Linda Jorgensen; Norma Kelley, Prague (Okla.) Library; Ellis Kimsey; Shirley Kimsey; Walter M. Legg, Jr.; Charles T. “Tim” Leone; Violet Lierheimer, Audrain County (Mo.) Area Genealogical Society; Warden Charles R. Martin, Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, Eastham Unit; James W. “Jim” Martin, clerk of court, Bienville Parish, Louisiana; Brenda Martin-Granstra, Heron Lake (Minn.) Library; Rick Mattix; Cecil Mayes; Pat McConal; Sharol Neely, Local History and Genealogy, Springfield-Greene County (Mo.) Library; Sarah Nyman, Kansas City (Mo.) Public Library; Louise Polly Palmer, Bienville Parish (La.) Library; Dr. Robert Pierce; Teresa Pierce; John Pronk, WFAATV, Dallas; Bruce Quisenberry, Joplin (Mo.) Historical Society; Carroll Rich; James Ritchie, Celina (Tex.) Record; Robert F. Roseborough; Carol Ruckdeschel, Cumberland Island (Ga.) Museum; Robert H. Russell, Jr.; Luke Scoma; William B. Searles; Shauna Smith, History Museum for Springfield-Greene County, Missouri; Renay Stanard; Lieutenant Gene Stewart, Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, Walls Unit; Kathleen Stockmier, Irving (Tex.) Community Television Network; LaVerne Taulbee; Carol Taylor, W. Walworth Harrison Public Library, Greenville, Texas; Hilda Terry, Cleveland County (Ark.) Library; Jerry Turner, Texas Prison History Association; Carol Waller, The Landmark, Platte City, Iowa; Samantha Warhol, Joplin (Mo.) Public Library; Margaret Waring, Comanche (Tex.) Public Library; Dr. Robert Weesner, Dexter (Iowa) Historical Society; Lee Wilhite, Platte County (Mo.) Historical Society; Alice Withrow, Atoka County (Okla.) Library; and Mike Woltz.

  I would also like to thank the following institutions for supplying the many fine photographs and other materials needed to research this subject: Atoka County Library, Atoka, Oklahoma; Barker Texas History Center, Austin, Texas; Barrow Collection; Bienville Parish Courthouse, Arcadia, Louisiana; Bienville Parish Public Library, Arcadia, Louisiana; Bryan County Heritage Association, Calera, Oklahoma; Celina (Tex.) Record Archive; Chickasaw Regional Library, Ardmore, Oklahoma; Crawford Collection; Dallas Historical Society, Dallas, Texas; Dallas Public Library, Texas/Dallas History Archives Division; Denton County Public Library, Denton, Texas; Des Moines (Iowa) Register Photo Archives; Dexter (Iowa) Historical Society; Fairbury (Neb.) Chamber of Commerce; Trey Ford Collection; Fults Collection; Hayes Collection; Hillsboro (Tex.) Public Library; Hinton Collection; Holmes Collection; Houston County Historical Commission, Crockett, Texas; Houston (Tex.) Public Library; Joplin (Mo.) Historical Society; Joplin (Mo.) Public Library; Kaufman County Public Library, Kaufman, Texas; Leone Collection; Lorenzo de Zavalla Library, Austin, Texas; Mayes Collection; McKinney (Tex.) Public Library; Miami (Okla.) Public Library; Missouri Highway Patrol Archives; Moody Ranger Museum, Waco, Texas; Russell Collection; St. Louis County (Mo.) Public Library; Sam Houston State University Library, Huntsville, Texas; Searles Collection; Sherman (Tex.) Public Library; Tarrant County Community College District Library, Northeast Campus, Fort Worth, Texas; Temple (Tex.) Public Library; Texas Department of Criminal Justice, Institutional Division, Eastham Unit, Weldon, Texas; Texas Department of Crimin
al Justice, Institutional Division, Walls Unit, Huntsville, Texas; Texas Prison History Association; Texas Prison Museum, Huntsville, Texas; U.S. Government Archives, Fort Worth Branch, Fort Worth, Texas; University of North Texas Library, Denton, Texas; W. Walworth Harrison Public Library, Greenville, Texas; Wichita County Public Library, Wichita Falls, Texas.

  If I omitted anyone, please forgive me. It was not intentional. I will make it up next time.

  Editor’s Introduction

  The world was a miserable, wretched place to be in the 1930’s. It was a time when death lurked around every street corner—death which could be as slow as starvation or as quick as a whistling machinegun bullet. . . . [It was a time when] everyone and everything—including the immediate future—was in doubt. . . . While a handful of men were getting rich . . . the average citizen was hard-scrabbling a meager existence [while] the staff of life was being whittled shorter and shorter with every skimpy meal.

  —Billie Jean Parker Moon, 1975, from “Bonnie, Clyde, and Me”

  BLANCHE CALDWELL BARROW, the author of the following memoir, came of age during a moment in the history of the United States when a seemingly vital economy suddenly crumbled and in some parts of the country literally disappeared, resulting first in deep recession and ultimately in what is known today as the Great Depression. Her time on the run with the man she is most closely associated with, Buck Barrow, was in part a by-product of the poor economy, but there were other issues as well. Ironically, her weeks as one of the most sought-after fugitives of the 1930s roughly coincided with President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s famous “Hundred Days” that produced a program of legislation designed to bring relief to the average, “hard-scrabbling” citizen described above. Nevertheless, 1933, the year the Barrow brothers shot their way out of police traps from Joplin to Platte City, Missouri, remains one of the most violent of the era. There was a lot of anger. Sometimes it was manifested in hunger protests, bread riots, veterans’ marches, and farm strikes. Sometimes in crime sprees.