Bonnie and Clyde- A Twenty-First-Century Update
Page 21
The best thing to do after a bank job was to put a lot of distance between you and the sheriff who was looking for you, and that’s what the gang did. Hilton Bybee went his own way after the Rembrandt robbery,6 and by the next day, the rest of them were in Oklahoma, where they stole another car to set up for the next job.7 All of these men were veteran car thieves, but one of them really excelled at it, so whenever a car was needed, Ray Hamilton got the job. Joe Palmer, certainly no friend of Ray’s at the time, nevertheless admitted that “Raymond stole all the cars; best car thief I ever saw. He was fast.” 8 The plan was the same: a fairly common car for the job and initial getaway, and then another, unreported car to throw off pursuit.
Forty-six hours after the Rembrandt, Iowa, robbery (and 550 miles away), three men entered the Central National Bank at Poteau, Oklahoma, just southwest of Fort Smith, Arkansas, while one or two others waited outside in a car. The cashier and a male customer were forced to lie on the floor while, in a small act of gallantry, Miss May Vasser was allowed to sit in a chair. She later described the men as “somewhat nicely dressed” but very roughspoken. The leader, dressed in a suit, gray overcoat, and kid gloves, cleaned out the cash drawers and the safe.9 Two more local men came into the bank while the robbery was in progress—one was even armed to investigate what he thought were suspicious goings-on—but they were quietly captured and put on the floor also. It was all over in a few minutes, and the robbers left with $1,500. Officers were notified, calls were made to surrounding towns, and a posse was in pursuit within ten minutes, but it made no difference. Again, they disappeared without a trace. Their getaway car, a blue Plymouth sedan, was found abandoned near Page, Oklahoma, a week later.10
Hilton Bybee mug shot. Texas State Prison.
——Courtesy the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, Waco, Texas
There’s no hard evidence about what the gang did for the next few days, but based on what was to happen later, it probably went something like this: After the Poteau job, the gang drove south to Houston, where Joe Palmer had an appointment with a lawyer. Now that Joe had some money from the two bank jobs, he wanted to settle an old score. At Eastham, Joe had been victimized by several guards, but there was one building tender in particular whom he hated, and now Joe wanted him on the outside where he could get at him. Joe paid a lawyer to arrange for a furlough for this man. Once he was released, Joe, Henry Methvin, and Clyde would do the rest.11
After setting Joe’s plan in motion in Houston, the gang began to work its way north again, but all was not well among its members. Palmer was still sick. Probably because of his ulcer and other afflictions, he was very prone to motion sickness. Since the gang was almost always on the road, Joe was always miserable. To add to Palmer’s woes, Raymond Hamilton was really starting to get on his nerves. Palmer had never liked Hamilton when they were in prison. For one thing, Joe was convinced Hamilton was an informant.12 Since they had escaped, things had only gotten worse. Finally, Joe got tired of Ray’s complaining and called the twenty-year-old kid a “punk, blabbermouth braggart” in front of everybody. Raymond did nothing, because even a carsick Joe Palmer was not a man to trifle with, but he didn’t forget the insult. Sometime later, when Joe was asleep on the floorboard of the car, Hamilton drew a pistol. Palmer later said that he was convinced that Hamilton intended to kill him while he slept.13 Clyde seemed to think so too, because, even though he was driving, he reached into the back seat and slapped Ray across the face. This saved Joe Palmer’s life, but Clyde also ran the car in the ditch and broke a wheel.
Henry Methvin mug shot. Texas State Prison.
—Courtesy the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, Waco, Texas
Palmer knew that something had to be done. He had to get away from Ray Hamilton, and, besides that, he was too sick to ride in the floorboard of that Ford any longer, so he decided to lie low for a while. On or about January 30, 1934, Clyde, driving a new car to replace the wrecked one, let Joe out in front of the Conner Hotel in Joplin, Missouri. They promised to keep in touch and come back for Joe in four to six weeks.14 The rest of the gang then headed further north.
Joseph Conger Palmer mug shot. Texas State Prison.
—Courtesy the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, Waco, Texas
On January 31, they stole a pair of license plates issued to Gross Hildreth in Rockwell City, Iowa.15 Later that evening, in the nearby small town of Knierim, F. W. Kahley noticed a car with three men and one woman drive by his combination filling station and lunchroom. The car returned and one of the men got out and ordered four steak dinners. The car left again but came back in a few minutes to pick up the dinners. All this made Kahley suspicious. He later said he thought the men were part of the Dillinger gang.
Mr. Kahley was concerned enough that, the next morning, he went to the State Savings Bank in town and told the cashier, Albert Arenson, to be on the alert. “There are some bad men around town,” Kahley said. One hour later, Clyde Barrow and Henry Methvin walked through the bank’s front door and robbed the place. After getting the money—between the bank and a customer, they only got about $300—they pushed cashier Arenson and three patrons into the vault but couldn’t get it to lock. The thieves gave up and ran to their car, followed by Arenson. The cashier managed to wing one shot at them with a revolver kept in the bank, but, as in the other two jobs, the thieves drove out of town and vanished without a trace.16 Clyde was identified a week later by cashier Arenson and one of the customers from photographs provided by authorities.17 The gang had hit three banks in eight days, traveling at least 2,000 miles in the process and netting about $5,600.
For almost two weeks, the gang was out of sight, and then, on February 12, on their way back home, they stole a car in Springfield, Missouri. That afternoon, while running from local lawmen just west of Reed Springs, Missouri, they stopped Joe Gunn and asked directions to Highway 13. Rather than wait, one of the men pulled a pistol and forced Gunn into the car to show the way. Before they got to the highway, the road was blocked by officers and a lively little gunfight took place. The Chevrolet escaped, and Gunn was set free, but later he would testify that Henry Methvin was one of the men in the car.18 The next day, Ray Hamilton was dropped off near Wichita Falls, Texas, while Bonnie, Clyde, and Methvin went back to the Dallas area.
Bonnie and Clyde met some family members on February 1319 and again on the 18th. This second time, Raymond Hamilton was there as well, and he brought along his new girlfriend. While in Wichita Falls, Ray had made contact with Mary O’Dare, the wife of his former partner Gene O’Dare. Ray and Gene had robbed a bank or two back in late 1932 and been arrested in Bay City, Michigan. Since Gene was safely locked away in prison,20 Mary decided she would take up with Raymond and go on the road with the gang—just like Bonnie.
Unfortunately, Mary O’Dare wasn’t like Bonnie at all. Raymond’s brother, Floyd, referred to Mary as a prostitute and a gold digger with enough makeup on her face to “grow a crop.” Later in life, when asked about Mary O’Dare, Floyd Hamilton would just shake his head and say “My brother sure could pick ’em.”21 Clyde, Bonnie, and Henry Methvin all disliked Mary immediately, and the situation only worsened with time. They called her “the washerwoman” and other, less complimentary names. In spite of the personal feelings, however, the meeting on February 18 was important. The gang was about to go back into business. The next score, though, wouldn’t be for money. It would be for artillery.
At 4:00 A.M. Tuesday morning, February 20, Patrolman Jack Roach made his rounds in Ranger, Texas, near Eastland. On Rusk Street, he found the front door of the National Guard Armory broken open. Clyde and Raymond had gone through the storerooms with a professional eye for armament. One rack held seven Browning automatic rifles. Two were old and one was broken. Only the four new ones were taken. Thirteen Colt .45s were taken, but the standard-issue Springfield rifles were left. Of course, a lot of extra magazines and ammunition disappeared too. The gang wouldn’t lack for firepower for a while.
> Mary O’Dare. Called “the washerwoman,” she was intensely disliked by Bonnie and Clyde. Mary was the wife of Gene O’Dare, one of Raymond Hamilton’s bank-robbing partners who was in prison. After the Eastham break, she became Hamilton’s girlfriend and traveled with the gang for about three weeks—from mid-February till early March 1934.
—Courtesy the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, Waco, Texas
Mug shot of Raymond Elzie Hamilton taken after he was captured in Bay City, Michigan, and returned to Texas. Dallas, December 15, 1932.
—From the collections of the Texas/Dallas History and Archives Division, Dallas Public Library
When it was suggested that the Clyde Barrow gang might have done the break-in, the local police, and even the Texas Rangers, discounted the possibility. Eventually, some local labor activists were arrested for the crime, but no indictments were ever returned.22 The Barrow gang’s part became known a couple of months later when some of the guns turned up in Dallas and were linked to them. For the moment, the gang took what they could use and left the rest with Floyd Hamilton for safekeeping.23 On February 26, there was another meeting of the gang and family members near Rockwall, Texas.24 What was not mentioned to the family was that Clyde and Raymond had picked their next victim.
Ollie Worley worked for the WPA, one of the government programs established by President Roosevelt to combat the 25 percent unemployment rate prevailing in the country when he had taken office almost a year before. It wasn’t glamorous work, but at least Ollie had a $27 paycheck to cash. That’s why he was standing at the teller’s window of the R. P. Henry and Sons Bank in Lancaster, Texas, just before noon on Tuesday, February 27. Mr. Henry, the cashier, had just handed Ollie two tens, two ones, and a five-dollar bill when two men entered the bank and walked behind the counter. They were dressed quite well, and Ollie figured they were bank examiners. When one of them grabbed Ollie’s $27 and the other produced what Worley later called “the biggest gun I had ever seen,” he knew he was wrong.
That morning, Clyde, Raymond, and Henry Methvin had left Bonnie and Mary O’Dare out in the country with a Ford V-8 sedan and taken a Chevy into Lancaster. Henry waited in the car by the bank’s side entrance while Clyde and Ray went in the front door. They were low-key and all business. “Okay, everybody on the floor,” Clyde said as Raymond took out a sack and began picking up the money. Everybody complied except an elderly gentleman who couldn’t hear well and didn’t understand what was going on. Worley finally had to pull the old man down to the floor over his objections.
“Partners in Crime.” A very rare shot of three members of the 1934 Barrow gang together. Left to right: Clyde Barrow, Henry Methvin, and Raymond Hamilton. Taken soon after the Eastham jailbreak. Probably mid-February 1934.
—Courtesy the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, Waco, Texas
All the cash drawers were emptied, and then it was back to the vault with Mr. Henry to open the safe—it was over in a couple of minutes. The two “bank examiners” were leaving through the side door when something happened that Ollie Worley remembered for the rest of his life. The man who had taken his earnings turned around and said to him, “You worked like hell for this, didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Worley replied. “Digging ditches.”
Clyde Barrow handed back the bills and said, “We don’t want your money. Just the bank’s.” Worley stood there in amazement as the robbers calmly got into the Chevy and drove away. Ollie still had his money, but the bank lost almost $4,200.25 The men drove back to where Bonnie and Mary waited, ditched the Chevy, and drove away toward Oklahoma in a Ford V-8, formerly the property of the Earle Johnson Motor Company of Temple, Texas.26 A professional job and a clean getaway—everyone should have been happy, but it didn’t work out that way.
On the way to Oklahoma, Raymond wanted to divide up the money. Clyde agreed, but then the question came up of how many shares to make. Ray wanted to give Mary a share, but Clyde said no. Later Clyde saw, in the rearview mirror, Ray giving Mary some money anyway. Clyde pulled over and searched Ray and found that he had been holding out almost $600 from the take. The idea of stealing from a grocery store owner or a gas station attendant, or killing a man for his car, didn’t seem to bother Clyde, his generosity to the WPA worker notwithstanding, but the idea that one of his partners would steal from him was too much.27
Like so many episodes in the lives of these elusive bandits, this one has another version. Floyd Hamilton, Ray’s brother, later claimed that it was all just a misunderstanding. He says that Ray was just trying to make it up to his girlfriend by giving her some money out of the common “expense bag” because Clyde was too stingy to give her a cut of the proceeds.28 Whatever the truth, things went from bad to worse. Never on the best of terms, Clyde’s relationship with Raymond Hamilton had hit a new low. Their association had one week left.
The gang proceeded through Oklahoma and further north and east until they stopped for a few days in Terre Haute, Indiana. They did some shopping and tried to relax, but the quarrel erupted again. Clyde and Bonnie complained that nineteen-year-old Mary didn’t understand how it was on the road. They had learned to keep a low profile—get food to go, sleep in the car or in tourist courts—but Mary wanted to eat in restaurants and stay in nice hotels. Once, Bonnie and Clyde had a fight over something. Mary sympathized with Bonnie and then suggested to Bonnie that she give Clyde knockout drops, steal his money, and go home. As mad as she was at Clyde, Bonnie couldn’t believe Mary would suggest such a thing.29 Ray didn’t like Henry Methvin and what he called his hair-trigger mentality, but, when Ray was not around, Mary would “come on” to Henry anyway. All these incidents worked to pull the gang apart. Clyde, Bonnie, and Henry all agreed—none of them liked Raymond, and none of them trusted Mary. They wouldn’t let her out of their sight for fear that she might set them up. The whole thing was a disaster waiting to happen.
A large part of the tension probably came from the fact that Raymond felt that he shouldn’t have to take orders anymore. According to the newspapers, he was a bigtime desperado in his own right. At Terre Haute, it all came to an end. On March 6, finally tired of all the bickering, Raymond stole a car for himself and Mary and told Clyde Barrow goodbye, to everyone’s great relief.30 Ray and Mary left for Beaumont, Texas,31 and Clyde, Bonnie, and Henry headed for Louisiana for a quick visit with the Methvin family. Raymond Hamilton and Clyde Barrow never saw each other again.
Clyde Barrow and Raymond Hamilton, February 1934.
—Courtesy the Texas Ranger Hall of Fame and Museum, Waco, Texas
The Eastham break and the formation of the new Barrow gang that followed it may have marked a new chapter in the career of Bonnie and Clyde, but it also marked a change in the way Texas authorities planned to deal with them. One of the reasons the Barrows had been able to survive and elude capture for so long was that they learned to exploit the weakness of the law enforcement system of the early 1930s. With little or no communications in patrol cars, and poor coordination between many jurisdictions, the police were almost always too late to mount an effective pursuit. Add to that the fact that Bonnie and Clyde could show up anywhere in the southwestern or midwestern United States on a given day, and you have an almost insurmountable problem. A couple of times, through luck and some good police work, the law was able to close in on them, but the pair still got away, and the cycle started all over again. In addition to skill, they seemed to have a lot of plain good fortune.
At the time of the Eastham break, the only law enforcement agency that had anyone dedicated full-time to the capture of Bonnie and Clyde was the Dallas County Sheriff’s Department. Sheriff “Smoot” Schmid, who had come close with his ambush at Sowers in November, had one deputy working more or less exclusively on Barrow.1 Outside of the Dallas area, though, the attention focused on Bonnie and Clyde was hit-or-miss. After Eastham, this changed.
Lee Simmons had been general manager of the Texas Prison System for almost four years when the Eastham r
aid happened. There had been escapes before, and guards had been killed before—one just a few months earlier—but Simmons saw the Eastham raid in a different light, as an assault on the prison system itself and a personal embarrassment. Because of this, and because of the death of Major Crowson, Simmons was determined to make an example out of the people responsible.2 Simmons managed to get a new position created: the “Special Escape Investigator for the Texas Prison System.” Regardless of the title, whoever got the job would only have one assignment—to hunt down Clyde Barrow.
Miriam A. “Ma” Ferguson was elected governor of Texas in 1932, after her husband, Jim Ferguson, had been impeached from the same office some years before.3 She had already agreed to the creation of the new position, but Simmons needed her word on two more things. About the first of February 1934, Simmons met with Governor Ferguson and her husband in Austin to settle these questions. First, the man he had in mind for the position was not on good terms—personally or politically—with the governor. He was a former Texas Ranger, and like many people in law enforcement, he thought Governor Ferguson was much too soft on criminals—she was the one who had pardoned Buck Barrow after Blanche showed up with her fake pregnancy and borrowed children. If Simmons picked this man, who was a political enemy, would she still give her support? Mrs. Ferguson said she held nothing against the ex-Ranger, and if he was Simmons’ choice it was all right with her. Secondly, Simmons said that, in order to get the cooperation of some of Barrow’s associates, he might have to “put somebody on the ground,” meaning promise clemency from the state. Governor Ferguson agreed to honor the offer Simmons was prepared to make, and the prison manager left to hire his man to track down Clyde Barrow.4