Bonnie & Clyde

An American Tragedy

of the Depression Era

My Life With Bonnie and Clyde

Outlaws Family Trees

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Bonnie and Clyde Links

Bonnie and Clyde in Commerce, Oklahoma

Bank Robbers in Missouri

Romeo and Juliet in a Getaway Car

Bonnie and Clyde's Hideout

Bonnie and Clyde's Death Car?


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Their final days

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Genealogy of Bonnie and Clyde

The following newspaper articles are clippings extracted from The Dallas Dispatch.

The Trail's End
Thursday, May 24, 1934.

The Tale is ended.  The story is told.
     The sordid and blood-flecked romance of Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker is finished by the bullets of an ambushed posse.
     The prophecy that was penned by Bonnie as finis to her limping ballad on the life of the notorious pair comes true---
Some day they will go down together,
And they will bury them side by side,
To a few it means grief,
To the law it's relief,
But it's death to Bonnie and Clyde.
     To the law it's relief to know that the couple which has been responsible for the most daring depredations, the most heartless murders in the southwest will roam recklessly no more.
     To a public which has come to fear their presence in any neighborhood, their death is a relief.
     Long ago, Clyde and Bonnie abandoned and forfeited the hope of facing a court, of trading surrender for life in confinement.  A price was on their heads, and officers knew that the one way to take them without further shedding of blood of the law's representatives was to shoot them down.  "Shoot first!" was the order.
     Just a few years ago, Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker were West Dallas kids.  Bad environment, bad company, petty thieving on Barrow's part, a strange infatuation for him on the part of Bonnie, and they were on their way to their dizzy career of slaughter and robbery, of perpetual hide-and-seek with the law.
     If the career of Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker is on any use at all, it is as a warning to other youth who are beginning to flaunt the rights of society, to live by preying upon others.
     There is not romance in living a hand-to-mouth existence, always ago in a dirty car, always hiding, fearing to stop among decent people, fearing to sleep for fear of awakening in manacles.  There is not joy in such an existence.  And there is no glory in dying, body riddled by the bullets of society's protectors and avengers.
     To the sheriff's men who ended this bloody chapter of southwestern history goes all the acclaim that attends the final battle of Bonnie and Clyde.
     The one lesson in their sorry lives is that crime doesn't pay.
Bonnie & Clyde Photo
Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker 
(Associated Press)
bullet riddled car of Bonnie and Clyde
The bullet-riddled car of Bonnie and Clyde
 (Associated Press)
"You couldn't hear any one shot.  It was just a roar, a continuous roar, and it kept up for several minutes.  We emptied our guns, reloaded and kept shooting.  No chances with Clyde and Bonnie."

This poem was written by Bonnie in the final weeks of her life.


Saga of Bonnie and Clyde


You’ve read the story of Jesse James
Of how he lived and died
If you’re still in need for 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 those write-ups
They’re not so ruthless as that
Their nature is raw, they hate all law
Stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.


They call them cold-blooded killers
They say they are heartless and mean
But I say this with pride, I once knew Clyde
When he was honest and upright and clean.


But the laws fooled around and 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 heartbreak some people have suffered
From weariness some people have died
But 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 friend, just wipe the 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 hard times we’s get 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 men are men
And they won’t stool on Bonnie and Clyde.


If they try to act like citizens
And rent 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 tough or desperate
They know the law always wins
They’ve been shot at before, but they do not ignore
That death is the wages of sin.


Someday they’ll go down together
And 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.

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