When Clyde and Ralph got back to Lake Dallas, the remaining six members of the gang decided to go ahead with the raid using the manpower they had, but there were a few more things to do first. Someone needed to go to Eastham and make the final arrangements, and for the first time Clyde decided to use his girlfriend. During the prison’s Sunday visiting hours, Bonnie would go in and pass the plan to Clyde’s friend Aubrey, the building tender, so that the men on the inside would be ready. The rest would steal weapons and ammunition from a hardware store in Celina so they could supply the escaping inmates. The day after the trip to Eastham, Clyde and Fults would go to the Tyler area and steal a couple of cars to be positioned for the getaway. It sounded like a good plan to everyone.7
On April 17, Bonnie Parker mixed with the visitors at the prison, posing as Aubrey’s cousin, and passed the message. Everything went smoothly, and by that evening they were back in Dallas. The next evening, Clyde and Ralph left Dallas for Tyler to find the getaway cars, and since Bonnie was already involved, they decided that she could come along. Car theft was, after all, a skill that Clyde and Ralph had long since mastered. The time it took them to steal an automobile—from start to finish—was measured in seconds rather than minutes. On the way to Tyler, they stopped in the smaller town of Kaufman so that Ralph could buy some ammunition at a hardware store.8
The city of Tyler proved to be perfect for a couple of car thieves, and everything went as planned. Rather than their favorite Ford roadster or sedan, Clyde and Ralph went for the bigger models, since they didn’t know how many escaped prisoners they might have to carry away after the break. They settled on a Buick and a Chrysler, and headed back the way they had come.9 But Clyde and Ralph were about to make a crucial mistake.
Ralph had been impressed with that hardware store in Kaufman. (Other sources say Mabank; see note 10 below.) They had a good selection of guns and ammunition, so he and Clyde decided to check it out on the return trip. The other boys were supposed to get the guns from the store in Celina, but something might go wrong. It wouldn’t hurt to have some extra—just in case.
It was around midnight by the time they pulled up behind the hardware store and went to work on the rear door.10 No problem there. Breaking and entering was a way of life for them. Unfortunately, the town night watchman had seen the two large cars roll through the town square at an hour when everybody who had any business there was home in bed, and he came around the corner with his gun drawn. Clyde snapped off a shot, the watchman fired back, and what should have been a nice quiet drive back to Dallas turned into a daylong nightmare for the two burglars and the girl who just wanted to be with her boyfriend.11
The exchange of a couple of shots was enough for the watchman, and he retreated, but then someone began ringing a bell and Clyde and Ralph knew it was time to go. They tried to leave town on the main highway but found it blocked. They backtracked and finally got out of town to the east on a little dirt road. Unfortunately, the area had recently had some rain, and now another thundershower came along. The dirt turned to mud, and soon both cars were stuck. What had been a bad situation was rapidly getting worse.
With no other alternative, the three of them started across the fields on foot. Before long, they came to a farmhouse, woke up the owner, a Mr. Rogers, and demanded his car. The owner was sorry—he had no car, but, since they were holding a gun on him, they were welcome to his two mules. It was a stunning reversal of fortunes. An hour earlier, they were planning a raid on the state prison, and now they were reduced to stealing mules. Clyde got on one of the animals, with Bonnie behind him, and Ralph mounted the other. It was Ralph’s bad luck to pick the mule that was known for its pitching, and in a second, he was face down in the mud. A few choice words later, Ralph was back on and they rode off in the rain.12
The little town of Kemp, Texas, is a few miles south of the larger city of Kaufman, and it was just before dawn on Tuesday, April 19, when the soaked, mule-riding fugitives arrived. They saw a car at the home of a Dr. Scarsdale and got in, leaving the livestock behind. It seemed like things were finally starting to break their way, but only a mile or so out of town, the car ran out of gas and they were on foot again.13 The sun was coming up, and search parties were beginning to form. They knew that the mules would soon be found, so all they could do was get off the road and hide in the underbrush.
The search was on. The city marshal in Kemp and the chief of police in Mabank rounded up the local men and started beating the bushes for the fugitives. One posse member even remembered the officers stopping strangers and checking the seat of their pants for mule hair. This went on all day with no results.14 Late in the afternoon, Clyde, Bonnie, and Ralph decided to try to get to a small store on the other side of the main road and steal a car. By now, though, everybody in the country was on the lookout for them, and they were seen crossing the road. One phone call and the posse converged on the area.
They were cornered a short time later in the bottomland near Cedar Creek, and shots were fired from both sides. Barrow and Fults fired over the heads of the posse, hoping they would keep their distance, but the posse was shooting to kill. This was all becoming a lot more intense than Bonnie had bargained for. A few more shots and Ralph was hit in the left arm. Clyde now made a decision. He told Ralph and Bonnie that he was going to run for it. If he made it, he’d get help and come back for them. If not—well, he had already decided he wasn’t going back to prison. This time, Clyde’s combination of good instincts and good luck worked for him. He broke through the line of officers on a dead run. He went directly between two men who were both looking down to reload and neither one saw him.
Once Clyde was clear, Ralph told Bonnie to give herself up. She had no record and would probably be all right. Ralph told her to make up any kind of story she wanted. Bonnie loaded Ralph’s gun for him, climbed out of the ditch, and was promptly captured. Ralph tried to slip away in the twilight but was caught a few minutes later. He and Bonnie spent the night in a little jail in Kemp that was about the size of a large outhouse.15 Clyde stole a truck in Kemp, and later a car in nearby Peeltown, and finally made it back to Dallas.16
Clyde first made contact with his brother L. C. and his sister-in-law Blanche and asked them to go to Kaufman and see how Bonnie and Ralph were doing. His next stop was at the Lake Dallas hideout to pick up the other members of the gang and make plans to get Bonnie and Ralph out, but when he got there, he found only Ted Rogers and Johnny. Jack and Fuzz were gone somewhere, and they still hadn’t done the Celina hardware store job. Clyde didn’t have time to wait around, so he, Ted, and Johnny hit the hardware store that night (April 20), in a somewhat messy affair.17
The three gang members took the new weapons back to Lake Dallas and tried them out, and as luck would have it, the shots were heard and reported to Denton County sheriff G. C. Cockrell. Late in the afternoon of April 21, Cockrell’s posse arrived at the hideout. Clyde, Ted, and Johnny saw them coming, slipped out the back into the woods, and got away, but Jack and Fuzz, finally returning to the gang’s headquarters, drove right into the middle of it all and were captured.18 Clyde’s Ford V-8 was parked in front and was soon identified as the car from Peeltown, Texas. Mabank officers were contacted, and they came up and promptly identified Jack as the third man who had gotten away, even though none of them had gotten a good look at Clyde, much less Jack, who wasn’t even there.19
The Lake Dallas gang was history. Three members were in jail, one had left for parts unknown,20 and the remaining three, Clyde, Ted Rogers, and Johnny, had lost everything except what they carried with them in their escape. Clyde’s promise to help Ralph and Bonnie was simply overcome by events. Before he could do anything, Ralph was moved. Clyde was further advised by his family that Bonnie would probably get out as soon as the grand jury met, so any attempt to break her out would just make things worse. Even so, Clyde had to do something. He had given away most of the money from the Midwest bank job, so he, Ted, and Johnny were just about broke. Clyde, however,
did remember that a fellow named Bucher he used to run around with lived in Hillsboro—and, more importantly, his parents ran a store.
Ralph and Bonnie caused a lot of excitement when they were taken to Kemp to spend the night, and most of the townsfolk turned out to see the desperadoes. One of the local ladies was scandalized that they were going to put “that little girl” in the same cell with Ralph to spend the night. The sheriff assured her that the two had already spent the previous night and most of the day together in the woods. In any case, Ralph was in no condition to be a danger to a young girl or anybody else. His wounded arm was killing him. When a doctor was called, it turned out to be the same man whose car they had stolen, and he refused to treat Ralph. It wasn’t until the next morning, after they were moved to Kaufman, that anything was done. As they had promised, L. C. and Blanche went to Kaufman to check on the prisoners, and once in Kaufman, Bonnie called her mother.1
Emma Parker tells her version of the story of Bonnie’s capture in Fugitives. Mrs. Parker’s version contains many errors which have been passed down by several authors, including giving the date of Bonnie’s arrival at the Kaufman jail as March 22, 1932—a month too early.2
This little escapade was Bonnie’s first brush with the law and her first glimpse of what life might be like with Clyde Barrow. It’s hard to know what Bonnie really thought, because she gave two different impressions of her feelings about the whole situation, depending on her audience. To her mother, she was sorry about the whole thing and felt that Clyde had abandoned her. By the time she got out of Kaufman two months later, she was telling her mother that she was through with Clyde for good.3 To Clyde’s family, who visited her regularly and brought her clothes and other things, she showed no sign of such feelings.4
Kemp, Texas, Jail where Bonnie Parker and Ralph Fults were held overnight following their capture on April 19, 1932—as it looks today.
—From the author’s collection
On April 24, the police chief of Electra, Texas, and Mr. Owens, the mail carrier, went to Kaufman and identified Ralph as one of the men involved in that kidnapping. He was moved from Kaufman a few days later and taken to Wichita Falls for trial.5 Mr. Owens, understandably, made no mention of his request to the kidnappers that they burn up his government car.
Mrs. Parker says that Bonnie was treated well by the jailer and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Adams, and that she was advised to let Bonnie sit out the time until the grand jury met, to teach her a lesson. For that reason, plus the stark reality that she didn’t have the money, Mrs. Parker didn’t make Bonnie’s bail. Bonnie Thornton (she gave her married name to the newspapers) sat in the Kaufman jail from April 20 until June 17, 1932.6
Probably to pass the time, Bonnie began composing a poem while at Kaufman. She may well have dabbled in writing verse before, but this is the first long, involved poem we know about, and she called it “Suicide Sal.” In the poem, Sal, the heroine, is “done wrong” by her lover, Jack. Many people assume that Sal’s revenge in the poem reflects Bonnie’s anger at being left behind by Clyde at Kaufman. If that is so, it’s hard to explain why she kept the poem long after she and Clyde got back together.
Reading the poem, Emma Parker was shocked at Bonnie’s obvious knowledge of criminal vocabulary.7 This poem was probably started out of boredom and revised and polished over the next year just for fun. Bonnie’s second and last major attempt at poetry would be much more poignant and, unfortunately, more prophetic, but that was two years away.
The Story of Suicide Sal
by Bonnie Parker
We each of us have a good “alibi”
For being down here in the “joint;”
But few of them really are justified
If you get right down to the point.
You’ve heard of a woman’s glory
Being spent on a “downright cur,”
Still you can’t always judge the story
As true, being told by her.
As long as I’ve stayed on this “island,”
And heard “confidence tales” from each “gal,”
Only one seemed interesting and truthful—
The story of “Suicide Sal.”
Now “Sal” was a gal of rare beauty,
Though her features were coarse and tough;
She never once faltered from duty
To play on the “up and up.”
“Sal” told me this tale on the evening
Before she was turned out “free,”
And I’ll do my best to relate it
Just as she told it to me:
I was born on a ranch in Wyoming;
Not treated like Helen of Troy;
I was taught that “rods are rulers”
And “ranked” as a greasy cowboy.
Then I left my old home for the city
To play in its mad dizzy whirl,
Not knowing how little pity
It holds for a country girl.
There I fell for “the line” of a “henchman,”
A “professional killer” from “Chi;”
I couldn’t help loving him madly;
For him even now I would die.
One year we were desperately happy;
Our “ill gotten gains” we spent free;
I was taught the ways of the “underworld;”
Jack was just like a “god” to me.
I got on the “F.B.A.” payroll
To get the “inside lay” of the “job;”
The bank was “turning big money!”
It looked like a “cinch” for the “mob.”
Eighty grand without even a “rumble” —
Jack was last with the “loot” in the door,
When the “teller” dead-aimed a revolver
From where they forced him to the floor.
I knew I had only a moment—
He would surely get Jack as he ran;
So I staged a “big fade out” beside him
And knocked the forty-five out of his hand.
They “rapped me down big” at the station,
And informed me that I’d get the blame
For the “dramatic stunt” pulled on the “teller”
Looked to them too much like a “game.”
The “police” called it a “frame-up,”
Said it was an “inside job,”
But I steadily denied any knowledge
Or dealings with “underworld mobs,”
The “gang” hired a couple of lawyers,
The best “fixers” in any man’s town,
But it takes more than lawyers and money
When Uncle Sam starts “shaking you down.”
I was charged as a “scion of gangland”
And tried for my wages of sin;
The “dirty dozen” found me guilty—
From five to fifty years in the pen.
I took the “rap” like good people,
And never one “squawk” did I make.
Jack “dropped himself” on the promise
That we make a “sensational break.”
Well, to shorten a sad lengthy story,
Five years have gone over my head
Without even so much as a letter—
At first I thought he was dead.
But not long ago I discovered
From a gal in the joint named Lyle,
That Jack and his “moll” had “got over”
And were living in true “gangster style.”
If he had returned to me sometime,
Though he hadn’t a cent to give,
I’d forget all this hell that he’s caused me,
And love him as long as I live.
But there’s no chance of his ever coming,
For he and his moll have no fears
But that I will die in prison,
Or “flatten” this fifty years.
Tomorrow I’ll be on the “outside”
And I’ll “drop myself” on it today:
On this island out here in the bay.
The iron doors swung wide next morning
For a gruesome woman of waste,
Who at last had a chance to “fix it.”
Murder showed in her cynical face.
Not long ago I read in the paper
That a gal on the East Side got “hot,”
And when the smoke finally retreated,
Two of gangdom were found “on the spot.”
It related the colorful story
Of a “jilted gangster gal.”
Two days later, a “sub-gun” ended
The story of “Suicide Sal.”8
It’s hard not to see Bonnie’s recent past and present circumstances as part of the inspiration for this, her first major work of literature. The poem’s style owes a lot to the romance and detective magazines Bonnie loved to read, and the cryptic gangster slang and dialogue could have come out of an Edward G. Robinson movie. The poem, whatever its motivation, obviously meant a lot to Bonnie, because she kept it with her and revised it several times during the next ten months. After the police found it in Joplin, Missouri, in April 1933, it was printed over and over again by the news media. Thanks to the help of the very people who were chasing her, Bonnie Parker became the only depression-era gun moll who was also a published poet.
While Bonnie was passing the time in the Kaufman jail doing creative writing, Clyde and what was left of his gang were trying to make some money. The store in Hillsboro seemed like as good a prospect as any, so near the end of April, they went there to case the job. As with many stores at that time, J. N. Bucher sold a lot of things. The group looked the place over, and Johnny bought a knife, but Mrs. Bucher remembered Clyde as a friend of her son.9 Clyde felt that this complicated the issue but agreed to go ahead with the robbery if he could stay out of sight. He would drive the getaway car while Ted and Johnny did the inside work.
Bonnie and Clyde- A Twenty-First-Century Update Page 8
