My Life with Bonnie and Clyde (18 page)

Buck and Clyde gave their mother a few hundred dollars. Bonnie gave her mother one hundred and twelve dollars. I gave Mrs. Barrow thirty dollars to give to my mother. It was from the money I’d been given for the trip to Dallas. We said our goodbyes and left for Florida. If I remember right, that was our only Texas visit during the month of May.
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Florida

O
N OUR WAY TO
Florida, we stopped more often, didn’t miss so many meals, and slept more at night in beds.

That night, the Monday after Mothers Day, we drove to Shreveport, Louisiana, and got a cabin. We went to bed and didn’t wake up until ten o’clock the next morning. After we had taken baths and put on clean clothes, we felt like new people. But later, after we left the camp, Clyde and Buck had an argument about staying in the tourist camp until after twelve o’clock. Buck tried to make Clyde understand we should leave earlier, but Clyde of course always knew more than anyone else. He left one of his pistols in the cabin and was mad about it. He was afraid to go back for it because the owner had acted suspicious before we left.

When we got to Minden, Louisiana, Buck began looking for a car to steal so we could leave Bonnie and Clyde. But he couldn’t find one that wouldn’t bring a lot of heat down on us as soon as he tried to get it. So we stayed with them.

The next day, Buck found a car in Mississippi. But we didn’t leave Bonnie and Clyde. After Buck got the car and moved our things into it, we stayed with Bonnie and Clyde the rest of the day on the banks of some river. We stayed hidden from the highway with the hot car.

Clyde and Bonnie drove to a farmhouse and had them cook chicken for us. Then they got bread from a country store about eight or ten miles from where we stopped. We had a regular picnic and got our fill of fried chicken. Buck and Clyde had cooled down and so all of us stayed together.

Buck and Clyde wanted to camp there beside the river but the mosquitoes and flies were so bad that we couldn’t sleep that afternoon or night. We left there and drove until about twelve or one o’clock, got a cabin, and slept.
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In a few days we were in Florida.

We stopped at a small roadhouse before we got to Tallahassee, ate dinner, and drank some beer and wine. We stayed there a couple of hours. Soon after we left there, we pulled off the highway a few yards and parked. We then cleaned the cars out, straightened the luggage, and shifted the guns. We also covered the guns so they couldn’t be seen by anyone who might look into the car when we stopped for gas.

As we were backing out to the highway, over a high embankment, Buck didn’t stop fast enough and drove off the other side of the road. The car turned over once and came to rest partially on its side and partially on the roof. Buck’s left hand and was caught between the top of the car and the gravel, pinning him. Luggage and guns had piled on both of us.

I wasn’t hurt but I had a hard time getting everything off of me so I could get out. I had to climb through one of the windows because the door was jammed. I finally got out and tried to lift the car so Buck could get his hand and arm loose.

Clyde had already pulled onto the highway and driven off. But it wasn’t long before he noticed we were not following and came back to see what had happened. I was working as hard as I could, trying to rock the car up enough to get Buck loose, but I couldn’t do much good. When Clyde arrived he got out and tried to help, but even with the two of us, the car still wouldn’t move. Guns were laying around everywhere. Anyone passing could have easily seen them. Two or three .45 caliber automatic pistols were laying in one of the windows as if they had been framed. But I couldn’t think about getting them out of sight until Buck was freed.

Soon a car stopped with three or four soldiers in it. They got out to help us and asked if anyone was hurt. They arrived before we were able to free Buck. With the soldiers’ help, the car was finally lifted up so Buck could move his hand. Then suddenly the soldiers seemed to be in a big hurry to leave. We were sure they had noticed the army rifles and pistols and would soon return with the law. We thought a battle would start at any minute.

Two other fellows stayed behind and tried to help us get the car back on the highway. One of them rubbed Buck’s hand and arm with whiskey and gave him a drink of it. Clyde drove off to find a cable so we could pull our car back onto the highway. He wanted Buck to leave the car where it was
and for us to get in his car and get away before the wreck was reported. But Buck told him he didn’t want to leave it there. He thought leaving it would get us hot in that part of the country and we wanted to stay as cool down there as we could. Buck and I both liked Florida a lot. We had visited there once before, prior to Buck’s return to prison.
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We were thinking about staying there for a while once we got to Jacksonville. But we couldn’t do that if we got hot.

Buck was sure we could somehow get the car back on the highway. But Clyde was mad because Buck was getting friendly with the two fellows who stayed behind to help. They seemed to be pretty good sports and Buck didn’t think they would get too nosey or call the law.

Buck had me get in the car, start the motor, and try to get the car moving while everybody else pushed. One of the men helping us was beside the car, where he could look in and see the guns. He told me to cover them up with something just in case someone else stopped to ask questions about the wreck, so they wouldn’t see the guns. I had thought they were covered but somehow the covering had slipped off.

When we finally got the car back on the highway we found that it still ran fairly good; and the dents in the fender and top weren’t so noticeable, although it was a new car and those places didn’t look too good. Otherwise, it was okay and we could still travel in it. But Buck could hardly drive because his hand had been pinched so badly. Consequently, I drove quite a lot. Buck only drove when we stopped in, or passed through, large towns. And even though we felt safe enough to stop and sleep at tourist camps whenever we wished, we still did a lot of driving at night.

We continued on to Jacksonville, but did not stay there as we had planned. Instead, we turned north and drove along the Atlantic coast. We stopped at a small town, Cumberland, Georgia, I believe,
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and went in bathing and playing around up and down the beach. Then we tried to rent a furnished house for the summer, but Clyde and Buck couldn’t agree on which place to take and got into another argument. After that, Buck got drunk. He didn’t want to leave, so he and Clyde split up. Shortly after that, Clyde and Bonnie left town.

I was glad we were going to be alone, but my hopes were soon shattered. Buck kept drinking and talking so loud that people would stop and stare at us. I begged him to be quiet and told him we would have every cop in town after us. Before I knew it, we were arguing. He wanted to stop right on the street and fight. I was almost mad enough to fight too, but I tried to reason
with him instead. Finally I told him to drive to the country and let me out, that I was through if he couldn’t do any better than that. I didn’t want to stay with him any longer.

“We . . . went in bathing and playing around up and down the beach. . . . Buck and I both liked Florida a lot.” (Photograph by Buck Barrow, courtesy of Rhea Leen Linder)

At first he said, “Okay. If you want to leave, then go ahead and get out now.” But when I started to go he changed his mind and told me to get back in the car. I refused. With that, he started talking so loud that I had to get in with him. I wouldn’t have left anyway, but I was still mad.

Suddenly Clyde and Bonnie drove up. I don’t know why but they had come back to look for us, saying they had looked the town over for us. Clyde told Buck he had seen some motorcycle cops riding in town and they seemed to be checking all cars on the road. Since there was only one road leading in or out of town, he thought it best to get away while we still could. If they ever blocked the road, we would have to jump into the ocean or die fighting.

When we were out of town Buck began begging me not to leave. I was still mad and insisted I would leave him. I told him to just stop any place
he felt like. He wanted to know how I would get home. I told him not to worry, that I could take care of myself. I said I didn’t need anyone to take care of me like I was a two-year-old baby.

Buck and Blanche in Tennessee. “We drove through South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee. ...” (Photograph by Clyde Jones, courtesy of Rhea Leen Linder)

“But, honey, you can’t go home,” he said. “The cops will get you.”

Blanche Barrow in Mobile, Alabama. “... then south to Alabama.” (Photograph by Buck Barrow. Courtesy of Rhea Leen Linder)

“I don’t care if they do,” I said, even though I knew I was lying. I did care. I never wanted them to get me. The thought of going to prison seemed just as bad as being killed. I really feared prison, even though I had never been inside of one except to visit Buck or Clyde. Still I had a horror of ever going to prison.

Buck kept pleading with me not to leave. Then he said he would not let me go, that he couldn’t live without me. “What would I have to live for?” he asked. He was sobering up a bit and becoming reasonable. I didn’t get out. Soon our argument ended as it usually did, with each of us crying and saying how sorry we were for hurting the other.

That night we rented a nice double cabin north of Brunswick, Georgia.
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We decided to stay there a few days if everything seemed okay. Bonnie and Clyde drove to another place on the beach to look around after we had eaten and taken our baths. Buck and I didn’t want to go. Buck wanted to work on some of his guns, so we just stayed at the cabin.

Bonnie and Clyde were not gone long. Soon after they returned, Clyde went to the station to get something but stopped a few feet away, in the shadow of another little building of some kind. He had noticed two highway patrolmen parked under the station’s awning. They were sitting in their car talking to the owner. Clyde caught part of the conversation, but not enough to know if the patrolmen were checking up on us. He felt sure they were, though.

Clyde came back to the cabins and told us what he’d seen. He thought we should leave, but added that he sure hated to leave those good beds without even getting to sleep in them. But he told us to get ready to leave anyway. Then he went to the woman he had rented the cabins from. He told her we had rented an apartment in town and that he wanted his money back. She agreed.

When Clyde got back with money we were ready to leave. The patrolmen were still at the station. We drove out toward Brunswick. Then, as soon as we were out of sight, we turned around and passed by the station. The patrolmen were still there. They pulled out and started chasing us, but we soon lost them.
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We drove almost all night. Bonnie and I drove for a couple of hours while Buck and Clyde slept. Then we drove off the road into a forest of pine trees and slept until about ten o’clock. After that, it was the same old story, afraid to stop anyplace. We kept driving, stopping only to sleep in the car. We drove through South Carolina, North Carolina, Tennessee, then south to Alabama,
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and west through Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Texas. I think we traveled most every highway in each of those states!