A Few of Mrs. B's Quirky Interests Part Four

I've got to bet this one is going to surprise a few folks!

Bonnie and Clyde

Not that I endorse crime in any fashion, of course I do not. But, for whatever reason, these two people just interest the hell out of me.

I believe it all started in a quite morbid way, actually. One summer when I was probably nine or so, my sister Ann and I (while visiting with my Father and step-mom for the summer) would routinely peddle our (borrowed) bikes to the drug store to buy candy and stuff. Of course, we'd browse around, too; and, one of the best browsing sections were the magazines. One day, I spotted some magazine, probably "True Crime" or something like that, with a picture of these real old-fashioned looking people on the cover and the heading "Bonnie and Clyde! Their death pictures are inside!"

Wow! I knew, of course, who they were in general; my Father had (probably still has) this cool album by Flat and Scruggs with songs they wrote for (or songs they wrote that were simply used in) the movie (like "Foggy Mountain Breakdown" and "A Picture of Bonnie"). I listened to that a lot (especially after seeing THE DEATH PICTURES at that drug store!)

Anyway, yeah, sure enough, there were several pictures of Bonnie and Clyde alive; Bonnie posing with a cigar in her mouth with her foot up on their car and a gun in her hand looking like one tough cookie,

a few of Clyde goofing off, and, pictures of their bullet riddled bodies. Fairly graphic and quite a bit for a young kid to see (and I'm not including any here but you can do a Google and see all you want to).

Thus, I became interested. I, of course, watched the famous movie with Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway (let me assure you, the REAL Bonnie and Clyde looked absolutely nothing like their glamorous portrayers). You judge for yourself!

Over the years, I'd read stuff here and there; the Internet certainly opened up a lot of Bonnie and Clyde fodder. And, the ex and I made a point of stopping at a casino in Nevada called Whiskey Pete's where they had the Bonnie and Clyde "death car" on display. Gee whiz, could they ever have possibly imagined that?

I think, though, the fact that I discovered a few years ago that shocked me just about more than anything else I'd seen or read was finding out how old they were when they were gunned down.

Anyone want to hazard a guess before reading further?

I can tell you, they look a lot older in their pictures (both alive and dead). Also, in the movie, they were depicted as much older.

Clyde was 24 and Bonnie was 23.

Here is a poem written by Ms. Bonnie Parker herself. Pretty damn good, I think:

The Story of Bonnie and Clyde by Bonnie Parker (1934)

You've read the story of Jesse James--

Of how he lived and died;

If you're still in need

Of something to read

Here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang.

I'm sure you all have read

How they rob and steal

And those who squeal

Are usually found dying or dead.

There's lots of untruths to these write-ups;

They're not so ruthless as that;

Their nature is raw;

They hate the law--

The stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.

They call them cold-blooded killers;

They say they are heartless and mean;

But I say this with pride,

That I once knew Clyde

When he was honest and upright and clean.

But the laws fooled around,

Kept taking him down

And locking him up in a cell,

Till he said to me, "I'll never be free,

So I'll meet a few of them in hell."

The road was so dimly lighted;

There were no highway signs to guide;

But they made up their minds

If all roads were blind,

They wouldn't give up till they died.

The road gets dimmer and dimmer;

Sometimes you can hardly see;

But it's fight, man to man,

And do all you can,

For they know they can never be free.

From heart-break some people have suffered;

From weariness some people have died;

But take it all in all,

Our troubles are small

Till we get like Bonnie and Clyde.

If a policeman is killed in Dallas,

And they have no clue or guide;

If they can't find a fiend,

They just wipe their slate clean

And hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.

There's two crimes committed in America

Not accredited to the Barrow mob;

They had no hand

In the kidnap demand,

Nor the Kansas City Depot job.

A newsboy once said to his buddy:

"I wish old Clyde would get jumped;

In these awful hard times

We'd make a few dimes

If five or six cops would get bumped."

The police haven't got the report yet,

But Clyde called me up today;

He said, "Don't start any fights--

We aren't working nights--

We're joining the NRA."

From Irving to West Dallas viaduct

Is known as the Great Divide,

Where the women are kin,

And the men are men,

And they won't "stool" on Bonnie and Clyde.

If they try to act like citizens

And rent them a nice little flat,

About the third night

They're invited to fight

By a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.

They don't think they're too smart or desperate,

They know that the law always wins;

They've been shot at before,

But they do not ignore

That death is the wages of sin.

Some day they'll go down together;

They'll bury them side by side;

To few it'll be grief--

To the law a relief--

But it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

She sure seemed to know what was coming down the pike, didn't she? They were gunned down in May of 1934. And, they were not buried side by side, either.

Mrs. B