George "Machine Gun" and Kathryn Kelly

"Kelly and his gang of desperadoes are regarded as the most dangerous ever encountered."
-	J. Edgar Hoover

We know the story. On the night of July 22, 1933, oil magnate Charles Urschel and his wife, Berenice, were sitting in the screened-in back porch¹ of their Oklahoma City home along with fellow executive Walter Jarrett and his wife, Kelly. It was late - 11:15 - and they were winding up an evening of bridge.

Suddenly two men - one was a bit chubby - barged in. The chubby fellow was toting a machine gun and the other was packing a pistol.

"Which one of you is Urschel?" the Portly Gangster demanded. When there was no reply, he ordered both men out the door. After pushing the two men into a Chevrolet sedan, the crooks drove off into the night.

The kidnappers had bumped over the Oklahoma roads for ten miles before they had the bright idea of looking into their victims' wallets. Finally sorting out who was who, they stopped the car and ordered Walter out. Then they drove on.

Or rather they drove on until they ran out of gas. It seems that although the general plan of the abduction had been worked out, details had been left hanging. The Chubby Bandit stayed with Charles while the Less Chubby One walked off to find gas. Surprisingly this only took about half an hour before he returned with enough fuel to get everyone back on the road.

Of course, the two kidnappers were George "Machine Gun" Kelly and his sidekick, Albert Bates. They headed south where George's wife Kathryn was waiting at her parents' farm near Paradise, Texas, a small community about 35 northwest of Fort Worth. The drive took fourteen hours but they finally arrived where Kathryn's parents, Robert "Boss" and Ora Shannon, had agreed to stow the hostage. Their son, Armon, lived nearby and was also waiting at the ranch.

After over a week of back and forth communications complicated by a couple of flubs, George and Albert collected the $200,000 ransom² which was handed over in Kansas City. Then they went back to the farm and drove Charles to the outskirts of Norman, Oklahoma (home of the University of Oklahoma and its Pride of Oklahoma Marching Band). There they handed him $10 to catch a cab and sped away.

Gloating over having pulled off the perfect crime, George and Kathryn took their cut, nice $20 bills of which the federal agents had recorded the serial numbers. Pocketing a good chunk for immediate expenses, they buried the rest in thermos jugs at various places over the Texas countryside. One place they stashed some cash was at the ranch of Kathryn's uncle Cass Coleman near Coleman, Texas (yes, the family name was the same as the town). That was about 135 miles southwest of Paradise.

George Barnes (some sources cite "Kelly" as his middle name and others say it's "Celino" but it might have been "Francis") was born on July 17th or 18th (depending on who you believe) in Chicago, Illinois or Memphis, Tennessee (depending on who you believe) in 1895, 1897, 1898, or 1900 (depending on who you believe). Most people go for Memphis in 1895.

George's mom and dad, Elizabeth and George Barnes, were middle class, fairly wealthy, or wealthy (depending on who you believe). But we can believe that George grew up in comfortable surroundings.

You'll also read that George was college educated. Well, George did attend college but how often he attended classes is an open question. His grades were pretty rotten and his highest marks were in "personal hygiene".

A factor in George's discontinuing education was that like many a young man he found an affair of the - ah - "heart" - that had precedence over matters of the mind. Somewhere along the line he met and married Geneva Ramsey, and they formed a union that was neither successful or long lived.

If crime didn't pay, George found that an honest living paid even less. So he began making and peddling moonshine. Although he had miscellaneous brushes with the law - one of which landed him a short stretch in New Mexico - he didn't get into real trouble until 1928 when he took some hooch to the Oklahoma Native American tribal lands (then called "Indian" reservations). That landed him a three year stint in the Federal penitentiary in Leavenworth, Kansas.

After his release in 1930 - George got off early for "good time" credits - he moseyed on down to Fort Worth and that's where he met Kathryn. Originally born as Lera Cleo Brooks, Kathryn hadn't been satisfied being a farm girl. Boss, though, was also involved in local politics (hence the nickname) and he supplemented his agricultural income with a bit of bootlegging. Young Cleo found this part of her dad's business was more to her liking than working the soil.

George was not Cleo's first husband - not by a long shot. She first got married to Lonnie Clyde Fry in Konawa, Oklahoma, in 1918 or 1919 when she was just a teenager. The marriage lasted only long enough for a daughter to be born the next year. Kathryn - a name she adopted because it sounded more elegant than Cleo - married again to a man we only know as L. E. Brewer. And no, this marriage didn't last either.

Then in 1924 - Kathryn was now an ancient 19 - she figured she'd try again and her third marriage was with a man named Charlie Thorne. Charlie, it turns out, was also a bootlegger. Supposedly he did not treat Kathryn kindly something she was not willing to forget.

After less than four years of marriage, Charlie called it quits by committing suicide. However, commentators have suspected foul play as they say that the illiterate Charlie couldn't have written the articulate note found by his side. Despite intimations that the note exhibited excellent grammar and was typed up neatly, contemporary news accounts state the note was identified as being in Charlie's own handwriting and the signature was also his.

Still, her life with Charlie had convinced Kathryn that crime could pay. So she began solidifying her connections with the underworld around Fort Worth. Soon she met George, and they were married in 1930. They continued with their bootlegging but that was small time. Kathryn had bigger ideas.

The accepted wisdom was that the big money was in robbing banks. But lucrative or not, it was hazardous to the robbers' health. Banks, after all, had guards who were usually armed.

But Kathryn had figured that if the guards thought a robber was a dead shot, they would be acquiescent to someone barging into the bank and demanding all the money. So she bought George a Tommy gun - you could literally buy these war surplus weapons in department stores - and had him practice.

The tales are that George got so proficient that he could write his name in bullets. Kathryn soon began playing up her husband's prowess and would hand out machine-gun cartridges to her friends as souvenirs. At least so the story goes.

A few bank robberies by the Tommy gun toting bandit soon solidified the legend of "Machine Gun" Kelly. The pickins were pretty good, and he began robbing banks from Mississippi to Washington state. George's last known bank hold-up was November 30, 1932, when he and Albert Bates garnered $19,000 or $38,000 (depending on who you believe) from the Citizens State Bank in Tupelo, Mississippi. But the money got spent pretty quick and the hazards were many.

Historians all agree. Kathryn really was the brains behind the gang but whether she was the one to mandate the switch to kidnapping is less certain. Certainly they tried their first job while they were still robbing banks. On January 27, 1932, George had kidnapped a South Bend banker, Howard Woolverton. They demanded $50,000 ransom.

But once secured at their hideout, Howard objected. Fifty G's was way too much for his family to raise. But, he said, if they released him he'd send the money to them later.

George - we don't know if Kathryn agreed with this - took Howard at his word and let him go. Howard later laughingly told how he kept getting letters and even phone calls from George reminding him that the money was due. Howard just ignored them.

George had learned his lesson. You just couldn't trust kidnap victims to keep their word. Huh! What a bunch of crooks! So when they nabbed Charles they weren't going to make the same mistake. They kept him on ice until they had the dough in hand.

With their cut of the $200,000, George and Kathryn decided that if their early life of crime had been easy enough, now they would be in Gangster Heaven. After pulling off a job, you'd simply hie off to another state where the law officials tended to focus only on crimes committed in their jurisdiction. So now all they had to do was to stay out of Oklahoma and they'd be living high on the hog.

Alas, the year 1933 turned out to be a bad time for gangsters in general and kidnappers in particular. For one thing, a lot of high profile crimes had prompted a get-tough-on-crime philosophy by the government. John Dillinger and Charles "Pretty Boy" Floyd had also begun robbing banks and Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow were holding up filling stations and grocery stores. And during the depredations of John, Charley, Bonnie, and Clyde, a number of law officers had been killed.

The murder of lawmen is particularly despicable but this seemed like the way the gangs were now operating. On June 17, 1933, a group of officers had been ambushed at Kansas City's Union Station while transferring a prisoner. In this "Kansas City Massacre" four of the lawmen had been killed. One was a federal agent.

Even some crooks were worried about the violent turn of bank robbing and store hold-ups. The money wasn't really that good compared to the risk.

So kidnapping began emerging as the choix de profession for the up-and-coming criminal entrepreneurs. Scarcely a month prior to George and Albert barging into the Urschel home, the wealthy Milwaukee brewer, William Hamm, had been kidnapped by Alvin Karpis and his bunch. The Hamm Brewery had weathered Prohibition by selling what we now call non-alcoholic beer, but was then labeled "near beer" - that is beer with no more that 0.5% alcohol³. But they were now gearing up to produce full strength brew since it was clear that Prohibition would be repealed within the year.

Certainly for the small time crook wanting to move up to the big time, kidnapping looked like the ticket. It could be handled by one or two people and there were enough rich families that selection was pretty easy. Best of all, the right ransom could bring in enough cash that could last the crooks for decades.

There were, though, big problems with this business model.

For one thing, the most infamous kidnapping in history had occurred only a year before. On March 1, 1932, the infant son of Charles Lindbergh and his wife Ann had been taken from the Lindbergh's home in Hopewell, New Jersey. Although the ransom was paid, the child was never returned and two months later the tiny body was found four miles from their house.

In response to what was a truly horrendous crime, within weeks Congress had passed the Federal Kidnapping Law - usually called the Lindbergh Law. It was now a federal crime to kidnap someone and transport them across state lines. And the law stated that you didn't have to prove state lines had been crossed before calling in federal agents. You just had to wait twenty-four hours.

But it wasn't just that the new law upped the ante against the crooks. John Edgar Hoover, the director of the new Division of Investigation, was really straining at the bit to flex his federal muscle.

In most books about the gangsters of the early 1930's you read how the FBI agents were soon on their tail. This, though, is not strictly correct.

With the exception of the United States Secret Service (established in 1865), the first federal investigation unit was founded in 1908 and was called the Special Agent Force. The next year, though, it was re-established more formally as the Bureau of Investigation. Edgar had become the BOI director in 1924.

In 1932 the name was changed again. Now it was officially the United States Bureau of Investigation. Then the following year, 1933, it became the Division of Investigation.

It wasn't until July 1, 1935 that the organization adapted the name we know now as the Federal Bureau of Investigation - the FBI. So although you'll read books and articles about how FBI agents had nabbed George and John and Bonnie and Clyde, it was really agents of the DOI.

But whatever you called the agents, Edgar had been under considerable flack because of the very rise of the Depression Era gangsters. There were also states' rights advocates that didn't really want a national police force anyway. Edgar and his group were not worth the added expense.

Worse (from Edgar's standpoint), even some congressmen that supported the DOI were questioning if Edgar was the man to be in charge. After all it was not Edgar and the Justice Department that put Al Capone behind bars. It was Frank Wilson of the Treasury.

But now with the Lindbergh Law in his pocket, Edgar had decided that the kidnapping of Charles Urschel was just what he and the Division needed to show their federal mettle. No more Mr. Nice Director.

After Charles got back home, the DOI agents questioned him carefully. Despite being blindfolded, Charles had paid attention to sounds, feelings, and even tastes that would help the investigation. In particular he remembered that an airplane had flown over the ranch each day at fifteen minutes before 10 o'clock in the morning and fifteen minutes before 6 o'clock in the afternoon. The plane was identified as the one making a daily run between Fort Worth and Amarillo and it followed a path that passed close to Paradise.

Of course, it also helped that Kathryn had unwittingly spilled the beans. She had been worrying that the cops had connected her and George with the kidnapping. So on July 24 she called up an acquaintance on the police force in Fort Worth. That was Detective Edward Weatherford, and she invited him over for a chat.

That Kathryn would know much less contact a detective seems strange. This was, though, a time of police corruption and crooks liked to make friends on the police force that they could pay off and pump for information.

On the other hand, smart and honest cops knew this, too. So they would let selected crooks believe they were on the take. The crooks would then be particularly loquacious and any information could then be passed on to other investigators - but with the source suitably disguised.

George had in fact been a prime suspect in the Kansas City Massacre and Kathryn had first contacted Ed to find out what the officials were thinking (ultimately it was shown George had nothing to do with the ambush). But Ed had let her believe he was friendly and now Kathryn thought she could find out who the cops were outing for the Urschel kidnapping.

When he got the call, Ed wasn't sure what Kathryn wanted and when he got to her home she just rambled on about nothing in particular. But it was less the manner of Kathryn's meandering conversation than the matter of what Ed had actually seen that tipped her hand.

As Ed approached the Kelly residence, he had noticed that sitting outside the house was a shiny new car with an Oklahoma license plate. And on the front seat was a newspaper with the lead story about the Urschel kidnapping. But what really struck Ed's attention was that the tires were coated with fine red dirt - a hallmark of the Oklahoma backroads - and yet Kathryn told him she had just gotten back from a trip from Missouri driving over the macadam highways.

After the strange visit was over, Ed phoned the local FBI office and reported that something was fishy chez Kelly. So within two days of the kidnapping, the FBI had their prime suspects as Kathryn Kelly and her husband George.

Things fell into place. With the parents and in-laws of their suspects living where they deduced Charles had been held, the DOI dispatched an undercover agent to the ranch on the pretext of other business. The Shannon's received him cordially and the agent noted that what was on the ranch - even the mineral taste of the well water - fit perfectly with what Charles had remembered. So with Charles going along, the agents swooped down on the farm. The Shannons - Boss and Ora and Armon - were arrested.

The principals, of course, were gone. Albert's actions aren't really known except he was later arrested. One story is that he took his loot - $75,000 - and went to Denver. There at a bar he had stupidly gotten into a fight and when the cops came they found $600 in his pocket. That was a lot of money - about half a year's salary for a typical family. They hauled Al down to the jail and asked where he got the dough.

No, the cash was not from the ransom. But the cops were able to trace it as being "laundered" - that is, money that was exchanged for cash used in a crime. For now that was enough to keep Albert behind bars.

Back at the ranch, the DOI agents had found someone else that provided them with an unexpected feather in their snap-brim fedoras. Harvey Bailey was one of the most successful (if you want to call it that) bank robbers in America. But after netting a couple of million dollars over his ten year career, in June 1932, he robbed a bank in Fort Scott, Kansas. Then while relaxing with a nice game of golf in Kansas City he was arrested and and sentenced to the Kansas State Penitentiary at Lansing.

In the spring of 1933 Harvey and ten other convicts escaped. Various accounts differ on exactly who did what, but the gist is pretty well known.

Like most prisons there was time set aside for recreation. Baseball was particularly popular and usually the warden would stop by to watch. Then on June 1 while a game was underway, one of the convicts - early stories say it was the convicted murderer Wilbur Underhill - threw a wire around the warden's neck and someone else - again we read it was Harvey - pressed a gun to his back. They told the warden he'd be killed unless they got free.

Although there were armed guards on the walls, the warden told them to put their guns down and not to shoot. The gang of convicts - ultimately they numbered eleven - went to the door of a guard tower and then to the outside of the prison. There they commandeered the car of the prison farm superintendent and headed south. The warden was finally released near Welch, Oklahoma, a town 70 miles northeast of Tulsa.

This wasn't really the time to make a jail break where you threatened the warden with death. Particularly a jail break not far from Kansas City. Harvey soon became one of the prime suspects in the Kansas City Massacre and even today he remains one of the popular suspects. Things were really hot for him now and he needed to get far away and find some funds.

Since George owed him some money, Harvey headed to Texas and stopped by the Shannon farm. Boss handed over a few hundred of the ransom money and suggested Harvey get some sleep on a cot outside the house. This wasn't lack of hospitality since in those pre-air conditioned days sleeping outside in the summer was common on Texas farms. Harvey was happy to catch forty winks.

But he wasn't so happy when he woke up the next morning staring at a ring of gun barrels. He surrendered without a struggle.

Bad luck, Harvey. Now he was not only going to be pinned with his escape from the penitentiary - an extra five years added to his original sentence - but he was going to be accused of the Urschel kidnapping.

Never a man to lament a sad situation, Harvey went along willingly to the Dallas jail. But as you may figure by now, Harvey was what prison officials call an escape risk. There and with the help of a deputy sheriff he managed yet another spectacular getaway. But the end was rather anticlimactic since he was recaptured a few hours later near the town of Ardmore, Oklahoma, just across the Texas-Oklahoma line.

And George and Kathryn? With the raid on the Shannon farm, they were soon reading that Boss, Ora, Armon, Albert, and even Harvey were in custody. They now had to "git" and git good.

Kathryn, though, felt that her mom was getting short shrift (Boss was actually her stepfather not her real dad). So she wanted to go to Fort Worth to see if one of her legal acquaintances, attorney Sam Sayers, could swing a deal with the prosecutors.

Kathryn told Sam she would be willing to plead guilty in exchange for leniency for her mom and herself. Even George showed a willingness to go along with the plan.

When Sam contacted the government prosecutors, he found that they, too, were receptive to a plea discussion⁴. Joseph Keenan, who was the US assistant attorney general on the case, said he believed the judge "could see his way clear to being very lenient to Mrs. Shannon and Mrs. Kelly, even to the point of absolute release."

So far so good. But then the other shoe dropped. For George, Joseph said, it was no soap. The government was not going to agree to any restrictions on the disposition of the case for the notorious "Machine Gun Kelly". He could surrender and plead guilty if he wanted. But he'd have to take his chances with the sentence.

So for now George and Kathryn remained fugitives. And things weren't like the good old days either. Instead of being able to zip across state lines and avoid the cops, no matter where they went the feds were on their tail day in and day out.

George dyed his hair a rather bright blond. Kathryn, normally a brunette, became a redhead. And for now they decided the best thing was to split up. Kathryn would stay in Texas trying to negotiate the deal and George would head to Mississippi. Later they would meet in Biloxi and decide what to do.

There George checked into a hotel. He needed some actual cash, but he didn't dare flash a roll of $20 bills. So he cashed in some Traveler's Checks, which were perfectly safe but scarcely anonymous. Sure enough, although he signed the checks with an alias, he was immediately recognized.

News travels fast. As he was walking down the street, George heard a paper boy calling out the headline that the notorious Machine Gun Kelly was right there in beautiful downtown Biloxi. George didn't know to [break] or go blind. He decided on the former and left all of his extra clothes and weapons at the hotel and took the next bus back to Texas.

So Kathryn arrived in Biloxi only to find George had split. She was furious (it seems she was always mad at George for one reason or another). She immediately headed back to Texas for some help. But since she was one of the top two wanted fugitives in the country, none of her underworld contacts wanted anything to do with her.

So what to do now? The feds would be watching Sam's law office. She couldn't go there. They were probably listening in on his phone conversations, too. So she couldn't even call him.

Kathryn knew that since the kidnapping had been in Oklahoma City, that's where the trials would be held. So Kathryn decided it would be prudent to have an Oklahoma attorney representing her. But who would that be?

Then occurred one of the strangest sequence of events in the annals of crime. Or in anywhere else for that matter. No fiction writer would ever dream up such a plot.

As Kathryn was driving along and musing on her travails, she saw some people walking along the road. They were three Dust Bowl refugees from Oklahoma, farmer Luther Arnold, his wife Flossie, and their twelve year old daughter Geraldine⁵. They had been wandering the roads while Luther was scraping by on odd jobs to feed his family.

An idea now popped into Kathryn's sharp albeit not always focused mind. She picked up the family and after some small talk, she decided Luther would do almost anything for some real money.

She then told the family that she was the much sought after Kathryn Kelly. But Luther needn't worry. All she wanted was a favor for which she would offer just compensation.

Did he, Kathryn asked, know an Oklahoma lawyer? Well, yes, said Luther. There was a lawyer in Enid, about 70 miles north of Oklahoma City who might be willing to help.

Kathryn handed him $300. She said she would provide him with a letter to Sam. Luther would then take a bus to Fort Worth and ring him up. Sam would loan Luther a car and Luther would drive to Enid and retain the lawyer.

As for Flossie and Geraldine, Luther needn't worry. They would stay at the Coleman farm. There they would have a place to stay and plenty to eat.

Luther did as he was told. He took the bus to Fort Worth and called Sam. But the lawyer wasn't in and so Luther would have to call back the next day.

With extra time on his hands and a lot of money in his pocket, Luther decided to repair to a local watering hole. Enforcement of Prohibition had become quite lax in Texas, and although it was illegal for the bar to sell beer, it wasn't illegal for Luther to drink it.

Now we must state that Luther, although clearly trying to support his wife and family, was a man who sometimes had lapses in family values. With his thirst now quenched, he asked the bartender if there was a companion who could offer him solace in his time of need. The bartender immediately placed a phone call and a pretty young and very friendly lady soon showed up.

Luther and the lady - whose name was blacked out in the FBI report - got along splendidly. So Luther ordered a whole case of beer. With ample refreshment on hand, the lady asked if she could invite a girlfriend to join them. But of course, Luther said, and although we don't know the details the three passed a pleasant night.

The next morning and feeling refreshed, Luther called Sam. Sam loaned Luther the car, and Luther and his two new friends drove the 250 miles north to Enid. There he found the attorney who agreed to represent Kathryn and George.

Following Sam's instructions, Luther then drove to Oklahoma City and checked into the opulent and still-extant Skirvin Hotel. His lady friends were still with him, of course, and they all continued their celebrations - rather loudly we hear. Soon they were joined by the other lawyers Kathryn and Sam had managed to retain.

We told you that no fiction writer would dare make this stuff up.

Of course, the federal agents weren't just sitting around on their well pressed trousers either. They were indeed watching Sam and had pegged Luther as a conduit. The agents in Oklahoma City were now keeping a close eye on him as he partied at the Skirvin.

They were puzzled, though. They didn't know where the heck the now relaxed Luther had come from or whether he was part of the actual kidnapping or what. Perhaps this uncertainty produced a somewhat lackadaisical approach to the surveillance. But suddenly the agents noticed that although Luther's girlfriends were still at the hotel and having a fine time, Luther was nowhere to be found.

Back in Texas Kathryn had taken Flossie and Geraldine to the Coleman ranch. She hoped George would be there but when she arrived Cass told her he hadn't seen George for some weeks.

Increasingly irritated at her feckless husband, Kathryn decided she needed to find a hideout that the agents wouldn't know. So she told Cass if George showed up to let her know by letter, General Delivery, San Antonio. With Flossie and Geraldine in tow, she drove the 170 miles south to the Alamo City. There she rented a small house to await news of George.

George arrived at the Coleman ranch four days later. In his wanderings there had been nothing to do but guzzle booze, and he had gained so much weight that with his dyed yellow hair he looked like a fat canary. Cass telegrammed Kathryn who beelined back to Coleman with Geraldine but leaving Flossie in San Antonio.

Kathryn had some severe words for her wayward husband. Then again taking Geraldine along, she and George took the Coleman's pickup truck and returned to San Antonio. All the way Kathryn kept talking how they had to get her mother to beat the rap. She would give herself up and George should too. George almost agreed with her.

Luther's abrupt departure from Oklahoma City had been to bring Kathryn up to date on how her plan was unfolding. He had been told that Flossie and Geraldine would be at the San Antonio address so he told his lady friends he'd be back in a few days. Whether he knew George was in San Antonio or not is questionable but probably not.

When he arrived Luther told Kathryn that things had gone splendidly. She then gave him more money to square the attorneys. Luther, now flush with even more cash, actually made it as far as Fort Worth where he again found the night life too much to resist. Finally and knowing he was in no shape to drive, he hired a young man to chauffeur him back to Oklahoma City.

It was now September 14. And as soon as Luther walked into the Skirvin, he was arrested.

At first Luther was not very cooperative. Or at least not as much as the agents thought apt. So as they themselves said, they began using "vigorous but appropriate" techniques to get Luther to spill his guts He did.

The agents immediately headed to San Antonio. But when they got there the only one they found was Flossie. George and Kathryn, she said, had headed off and took Geraldine to masquerade as their daughter. She didn't know where they were going.

In fact George and Kathryn had decided to return to the Coleman ranch. But figuring that the feds were watching the place, they stopped at a neighboring ranch belonging to Clarence Durham. Clarence, they figured, would be willing to serve as a go-between with the Shannons.

Clarence wasn't home and he was surprised when he came in and found Machine Gun Kelly taking a snooze. Nor was he as helpful as George had hoped. Clarence told George to get his felonious rear end out of there. Then he called the sheriff.

Soon all law agencies had sent out an all points bulletins to look for George, Kathryn, and Geraldine. The reports soon began coming in and indicated the fugitives were heading toward Oklahoma.

That was in fact where they were going. But they didn't stop there. Instead they didn't stop until they reached Chicago. There they rented an apartment and told the landlady they were tourists there to see the World's Fair Century of Progress Exposition.

Back in Oklahoma City, the case was progressing as well. On September 18, the trial of the Shannons, Albert, and Harvey got underway. On September 30, all were found guilty.

When she read about her mother's predicament, Kathryn went into a fit and wrote a threatening letter to Charles Urschel. She said - among other things - she would "exterminate" him and his family. George, whether on his own or at Kathryn's behest, also wrote a threatening letter.

We have to admit it. For all the claims that Kathryn was the brains behind the Legend of Machine Gun Kelly, she sure didn't seem very smart. Sending a threatening letter to the kidnap victim meant any kind of deal was now out of the question. Worse, she seemed to forget that letters had postmarks and these pinpointed her and George in Chicago. However, the feds were unable to trace the letters to any specific location.

Seeing their options evaporating, George was turning to anyone he could think of. He even contacted the Chicago Outfit once run by Al Capone and now taken over by Frank Nitti. Sorry, they told George. He was too hot. They could't be seen with him or help him in any way. They suggested might be best if he just got out of town. Chicago, after all, was the Midwest hub for the Division of Investigation.

In fact, George and Kathryn probably would have been nabbed in the Windy City. But the agents made a massive SNAFU⁶.

Kathryn had written to Flossie in San Antonio that she should go to Oklahoma City and check into a certain boarding house and wait. That letter had been intercepted by the DOI. And Kathryn had also written to Flossie saying that Geraldine was fine and to send any letters to the Michigan Bar on the Southside (now the location of a hamburger restaurant). Naturally the DOI immediately contacted Chicago's Special Agent in Charge, Melvin Purvis.

Ha! Now it was easy. Melvin Purvis - later to lead the hunt for John Dillinger and Pretty Boy Floyd - was told to stake out the bar. Of course, Melvin said, he'd take care of it right away. But although he did send agents to the bar he did so only to see if it was being used as a mail drop.

Without specific orders to watch the bar, the agents had simply stopped the local postman as he made his rounds. The postman said, no, he knew of no special delivery mail to that address. So the agents just went away.

At that moment George was sitting inside and getting the owner to sell him a car. So by the time Melvin realized his faux pas and sent agents to actually watch the bar, George, Kathryn, and Geraldine were long gone⁷.

After driving all day, George, Kathryn, and Geraldine arrived in Memphis. There George got hold of Langford Ramsey (everyone called him Lang) who was the brother of his first wife. Until then Lang never knew that his former brother-in-law, the genial George Barnes, was the notorious Machine Gun Kelly. But now George fessed up.

Lang almost dropped a load. But he agreed to go and retrieve some of the money buried in Texas. He then headed west taking Geraldine along to provide directions to the Coleman ranch.

Lang's reception at the Coleman ranch was not cordial. Cass told Lang that the feds had been there and were watching the ranch (actually they weren't). So Lang shouldn't expect any help and he no longer wanted anything to do with George Kelly.

With nothing to show for his 650 mile trek, not to mention aiding and abetting one of the most wanted fugitives in America, Lang drove to the nearest train station and sent a telegram to George telling him that he could expect no further money or help from the Colemans.

From there Lang drove to Fort Worth. There he put Geraldine on the train to Oklahoma City and set a telegram to her parents as to when she'd arrive.

Luther and Flossie were there when Geraldine got off the train. So were a group of DOI agents. Geraldine told the men all she remembered - which was a lot. She said the Kellys were in Memphis and even remembered the address: 1408 Rayner Street.

Special Agent in Charge William Rorer and a group of other agents flew to Memphis. There on September 26 and along with local law officers they arrived at Rayner Street at six o'clock in the morning.

Stealthily the men entered the house. Looking at the number of bourbon bottles the floor they weren't that surprised that the people they saw sleeping in the bedrooms and on the porch were not easily disturbed. They even spied Kathryn slumbering soundly in her green pajamas.

But as they crept down the hall, the door of a bedroom opened up. It was George holding a pistol. But since the agents had more formidable arms George finally showed some sense. He surrendered.

Because the arrest of George and Kathryn had been achieved independently of any negotiations, the prosecutors were free to do what they liked. Plea bargain? They didn't need no plea bargain.

The trial began on October 9. Kathryn did two things that didn't help her case. For one thing she asked for a private audience with the judge, Edgar Vaught. She told His Honor that she would plead guilty if he let her mom go. Judge Vaught immediately said such an overture was completely unacceptable and even warned her attorney of its impropriety.

Another mistake was that Kathryn took the stand in her own defense - something attorneys don't like a client to do unless the client is 1) articulate, 2) clear thinking, and 3) innocent. Although Kathryn put on a great act, it was not a convincing one. She lamented how she had been against the kidnapping all along but couldn't do anything because of the ruthlessness of George and the others. Then when she saw the movie cameras in the courtroom she smiled coquettishly and preened and primped.

George didn't help either. There are stories that he kept sending threatening letters to Charles and his family and even to the Oklahoma assistant attorney general who was in charge of the prosecution (but how he could do that from jail is hard to figure). But it certainly didn't help that when he saw Charles Urschel in the courtroom he made a throat slashing gesture and called out "This is for you!" Charles didn't bat an eye. By then everyone knew George was a blowhard.

Among the most powerful witnesses were Luther and Flossie and - a surprise - Armon Shannon. The testimony and the evidence left not only no reasonable doubt of who was guilty but not a scintilla of doubt.

On October 12 - after a trial of three days - George and Kathryn were found guilty. By then so many people had been involved in either the kidnapping, moving and hiding Charles, arranging the ransom, or helping the crooks hide out that twenty-one convictions were garnered. Six of them - George, Kathryn, Boss, Ora, Al, and Harvey - got life. Armon, who had cooperated completely and provided valuable testimony, was given a suspended sentence. Luther and Flossie were let go and disappeared into history.

George, Al, and Harvey were sent to Leavenworth. George had sworn he'd be out of prison by Christmas and in some ways he was. In less than a year he was shipped out to Alcatraz.

At first George kept up his bravado. He boasted of being involved in all sorts of famous crimes (nobody believed him) and would swat the next door cell occupant, Willie Radkay, with a newspaper if he snored too loud.

But suddenly something pricked the bombastic balloon. One story is that he saw a guard taking break while eating a sandwich.

"In my heyday," George boasted, "that would be a thick steak and I'd be surrounded by women. I had it all."

The guard smiled. "You know, Kelly, I've got a date tonight ... I'm not rich and I'm not a big man, but I sure as hell won't be here tonight."

It's a good crime-does-not-pay story. But true or not something certainly turned George around. He began to show real remorse and even wrote Charles lamenting on how he regretted everything. Charles ignored him.

But the blustery arrogant inmate doesn't really fit the memories of the officials at the prison. They found George both a model prisoner and a genial man.

 

"'Machine Gun" Kelly', who was in for kidnapping ... was one of our better prisoners. Never gave us any trouble whatsoever, was neat and clean and polite and decent in all his responses."
-	Phillip Bergen, Captain Correctional Officer and Assistant Warden, Alcatraz

 

"Kelly was probably our best inmate we had here probably ever on Alcatraz ... he was just a real nice guy.."
-	Frank Heany, Correctional Officer, Alcatraz

 

"Very nice guy, as far as I was concerned."
-	James Quillen, Inmate 526, Alcatraz

But George kept up with the wild tales. These both amused and exasperated the other convicts.

George remained at Alcatraz until 1951 when he was transferred back to Leavenworth. By 1954 he was slated for parole. But he died of a heart attack on July 18. He was 59 years old. Either that or 57, 56, or 54.

Kathryn remained in jail. Then in 1958 one of her appeals finally bore fruit. In an affidavit she decried the unfairness of her trial, how everyone lied about her participation, and how other miscreants had gotten it easy. To the surprise of everyone, the judge granted Kathryn a new trial.

The now Federal Bureau of Investigation found that virtually all of the agents involved had died or retired. Worse the information in the files indicated that some of the claims - such that the ransom notes were in Kathryn's handwriting - could not be sustained. So the government refused to press the case further.

So after twenty-five years, Kathryn was now technically an innocent woman. She walked out of prison and her mom was also released. Both lived long and peaceful lives with Kathryn working as a bookkeeper. Ora died in 1980, 91 years old and Kathryn lived five more years and died in 1985 at age 81.

As far as George bestowing on the world the tough-guy nickname for the agents of what became the Federal Bureau of Investigation, in one scholarly account we read:

When special agents of the Bureau captured George "Machine Gun" Kelly in September 1933, Kelly had begged, "Don't shot, G-men; don't shoot!" It was the first time the SA's [Special Agents] had heard the term, which Kelly explained was underworld slang for "government-men". Various Newspaper columnists and radio commentators - including the dean of both, Walter Winchell - soon picked up and popularized the expression.

Can we doubt this story? I mean it was in a book, those non-electronic devices with white flappy things in the middle. Even more convincing, the scene was also depicted in the movie The FBI Story starring Jimmy Stewart and Vera Miles. There we see the Feds get the drop of George in the building's stairwell and with his voice trembling with fear and terror shouts:

Don't shoot, G-Men!
DON'T SHOOT G-MEN!!!!!!

A good story that was never really doubted.

But, we ask, is it TRUE?

Well, to assess the veracity of the legend or lack thereof, as Joe Friday would say, we just want the facts.

For one thing, George wasn't caught in a stairwell of a building. He was nabbed in his civvies in a small rented house (which is, by the way, still there).

Next, the famous story appears in the movie, but not in the FBI files. So that's two strikes against it.

The third strike is the story reported the day after George's arrest. Remember the police had surrounded the building at 6 a. m. and the officers had entered the hallway and were facing George's bedroom door. Then George came out of the room with a pistol in his hand.

Detective Bill Raney of the Memphis police simply said "Drop that gun, Kelly."

Since Bill was pointing a sawed-off shotgun at George's chest, George readily complied. All he said was "I've been waiting for you all night."

"Well, here we are", Bill replied.

That's it. No "Don't shoot, G-men!", stuff.

Agent Rorer also described the arrest. He was a little more taciturn. Immediately after the arrest he phoned Edgar and then followed up by telegram:

WE FOUND HIM IN BED AND HE WAS CAPTURED WITHOUT A STRUGGLE."

Again, nothing requesting the G-men not to shoot.

So where did the G-man story come from?

Move two years ahead to 1935. Although George and Kathryn, Harvey, and Al were in prison and Bonnie and Clyde and John Dillinger and Baby Face Nelson and Pretty Boy Floyd were dead, the story of "Machine Gun" Kelly was still in the news. And it was improving with age. Sure enough, there we read:

Kelly referred to J. Edgar Hoover’s agents as "G men" as he stood, with arms upraised, in a bedroom of his boarding house, gazing into the muzzles of a circle of guns.

Now this account certainly seems to be a bit embellished. On the other hand the next part is simple and straightforward :

Kelly was arrested by W. A. Rorer (Federal investigator) and local officers at Memphis, Tenn., September 26, 1932, and was armed with a 45-caliber pistol.

And now we hear about the G-men.

The captain of police asked Kelly why he didn’t use his gun and Kelly replied: "Because the G man had me covered."

"Because the G-man had me covered." No whimpering sniveling "Don't shoot, G-Men! Don't shoot, G-Men!" Instead George used the word after his arrest and speaking to a police captain, most likely at the station house.

Was this the first use of the term? Well, let's see what J. Edgar Hoover himself said:

I don’t know the origin of ["G-man"] except it is a Midwest underworld expression. Machine Gun Kelly is the first man who ever applied the term "G man" to any of my men.

Or rather, that was the first time Edgar heard the term applied to any of his men. But Edgar then acknowledges that it had long been used to to men of federal authority.

K. P. Aldrich, veteran chief postal inspector, said the first time he had heard the expression, however, was about 20 years ago in Illinois when a bandit, asked what he meant when he said, "Well, old whiskers got me," replied, "G -man".

The expression "old whiskers" is so unfamiliar today that it requires some elaboration although in the 1930's it was so common as to need no explanation.

"Old Whiskers" was the same as "Uncle Sam" - that is the grizzly bearded cartoon character with the Stars-and-Stripes top hat and who represented the United States. That it was used in a sense of federal law enforcement is attested during hearings for the proposed Federal Kidnapping Law. As Senator John J. Cochran of Missouri stated:

Men schooled in the detection of crime appeared before the Judiciary Committee and some of their testimony was given behind closed doors. They told the committee in open session that the men who practice kidnapping are afraid of Uncle Sam, or as the criminals characterize Uncle Sam, they are afraid of "Old Whiskers". Put Old Whiskers" into the business of preventing kidnapping and you are going to stop this lowest of crimes.

So here we've probably found the origin of George and the "G-man" story. George very well may have used the expression after his arrest. But not as the sniveling whimpering "Don't shoot, G-men!" of legend. Edgar had known of the word, but had not heard it used specifically for DOI agents. Certainly George didn't coin the word.

The capture of Machine Gun Kelly gave Edgar a bit of a respite. That's a bit of a respite. He managed to get some more legislation passed expanding his agency's power. Despite widespread belief that the agents were not allowed to carry guns, federal agents had been allowed to do so as early as 1929. The arms, though, were to be carried for defensive purposes only and had to be authorized by the Special Agents in Charge. But it was the famous "Crime Bill" of 1934 that expanded their authority and allowed them to carry weapons at their discretion. Today unless otherwise instructed, agents are required to be armed at all times.

But for Edgar things started getting rocky again, particularly since John Dillinger and Pretty Boy Floyd seemed to be particularly elusive. When agents tried to arrest John at the Little Bohemia Lodge in Wisconsin, they ended up killing one of the customers and let John get away. Will Rogers commented that Dillinger would probably be in no danger unless he got into a crowd of innocent bystanders.

Another problem was that there still weren't that many federal laws for crooks to break John's main crime - murder and bank robbery - were still only state crimes. And John scrupulously avoided federal violations.

Except one.

When robbing banks John used automobiles, of course. And usually they were stolen. Naturally, moving around as much as he did, he drove them across state lines.

THAT was a federal crime.

But it does seem a bit odd that the worst thing the feds could nail John with was stealing a car.

Nevertheless, with the end of the 1930's and the Gangter Era, Edgar was well set in place either because he knew too much about the politicians or because he had such a high standing with the general public that no one dared get rid of him. Or both.

But in 1964, Edgar was approaching his 70th birthday which was the mandatory retirement age for civil servants. So President Lyndon Johnson saw this as the perfect time to give Edgar the boot.

Bill Moyers, LBJ's press secretary, called up Washington Post editor Ben Bradlee.

"We've finally got the [scoundrel]!," Bill crowed. "Lyndon told me to find his replacement."

So Ben wrote the story:

Efforts are now underway to find Hoover's replacement...

Lyndon immediately called a press conference and announced that Edgar would be appointed director for life. Just before he went before the cameras, Lyndon turned to Bill :

"You call up Ben Bradlee and tell him [take a hike].

From then on Ben's friends told him, you did it, Bradlee. You got him appointed for life.

Strictly speaking that wasn't correct. LBJ didn't appoint Edgar director for life. He appointed him for "an indefinite time". That was a subtle message to Edgar that regardless of his power and standing with the public, LBJ was still in charge. But the distinction became academic on May 2, 1972.

And George? Where did he end up?

No, Memphis's Least Favorite Son was not laid to rest in his hometown. Instead you have to go west, young men and women.

It turns out that none of George's family wanted to hassle with the details - or the publicity - of a funeral. The only one who did was Boss Shannon, who had been paroled for health reasons in 1944. So George was shipped from Leavenworth to Texas.

If you're ever in Fort Worth you can drive north on Interstate 35 until you reach the exit for Texas State Highway 287. Keep going northwest until you connect with State Highway 114 just south of Rhome. Then head west past Boyd until you reach County Road 4599. If you continue west past Highway 51 the road automatically becomes CR 2123. This takes you, no, not to Paradise, but to Cottondale.

Keep your eye out for County Road 3585. Then turn left (south) and drive only about a tenth of a mile. Just past the church, turn right. Follow the lane until you reach the Cottondale Cemetery. Just outside the cemetery proper is a Texas historical marker.

"MACHINE GUN" KELLEY

DURING THE PROHIBITION ERA, ORGANIZED CRIME INCREASED. BIG-NAME GANGSTERS LIKE Al CAPONE RULED THE STREETS WHILE PUBLIC ENEMIES SUCH AS BONNIE AND CLYDE SWEPT ACROSS THE COUNTRY. ONE OF THE MOST INFAMOUS CRIMINALS OF THIS TIME WAS GEORGE FRANCIS BARNES JR., ALSO KNOWN AS GEORGE B. "MACHINE GUN" KELLEY. BORN ON JULY 17, 1900, IN CHICAGO, BARNES GREW UP IN MEMPHIS. HE BRIEFLY HELD A JOB AND FAMILY, BUT FOLLOWING DIVORCE AND THE LOSS OF HIS JOB, HE FELL INTO BOOTLEGGING. HE BUILT UP A NASTY REPUTATION, BEING JAILED NUMEROUS TIMES, AND HEADED WESTWARD BY THE LATE 1920s. IN 1930, HE MET THE WIDOW KATHRYN THORNE. THEY EVENTUALLY MARRIED, AND JOINED TOGETHER TO GO ON CRIME SPREES OF HIGHER AND HIGHER MAGNITUDES, ROBBING BANKS ACROSS THE SOUTH AND MIDWEST. KATHRYN WAS KNOWN TO BE A GOOD SHOT WITH VARIOUS FIREARMS, AND EVENTUALLY BOUGHT A THOMPSON MACHINE GUN FOR HER HUSBAND, EARNING HIM HIS NICKNAME. GEORGE AND KATHRYN ROBBED BANKS FOR YEARS, GAINING LARGE AMOUNTS OF MONEY AND NOTORIETY. ON JULY 22, 1933, THE COUPLE SET OUT TO KIDNAP CHARLES URSCHEL, AN OIL BARON IN OKLAHOMA CITY. THEY HELD HIM AT THE FARM HOUSE OF KATHRYN'S STEPFATHER ROBERT 'BOSS' SHANNON IN WISE COUNTY UNTIL THE RANSOM OF $200,000 WAS PAID. HOWEVER, IN AUGUST THE COUPLE WAS CAUGHT AND ARRESTED. DURING ONE OF THE FIRST COURT CASES UNDER THE NEW LINDBERGH LAW ON KIDNAPPING, GEORGE, KATHRYN, AND MUCH OF THE SHANNON FAMILY WERE GIVEN LIFE SENTENCES IN PRISON, ALTHOUGH BOSS WAS GRANTED CLEMENCY AFTER 11 YEARS. GEORGE DIED OF HEART DISEASE IN LEAVENWORTH PRISON ON JULY 18, 1954. GEORGE BARNES WAS BURIED HERE BY BOSS SHANNON AS NOBODY FROM GEORGE'S IMMEDIATE FAMILY CLAIMED THE BODY.

Go in the gate to the northwest part of the cemetery (Section 2), and find Row 11. There the first marker is a small plaque flush with the ground. It reads in its entirety:

They didn't even spell his name right.

References and Further Reading

"Machine Gun Kelly" (1895-1954), Biography, April 2, 2014 (Revised October 28, 2019).

"Federal Bureau of Investigation: History", John Pike and Steven Aftergood, Federation of American Scientists, June 18, 2003.

"Urschel Kidnapping", Larry O'Dell, The Encyclopedia of Oklahoma History and Culture, Oklahoma Historical Society.

"George 'Machine Gun' Kelly", FBI History, Famous Criminals and Cases, Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Public Enemies: America's Greatest Crime Wave and the Birth of the FBI, 1933-34", Bryan Burrough, Greenwood, 1995.

"George 'Machine Gun' Kelly Captured in Memphis Hideout", Historic Memphis.

"Crusaders, Gangsters, and Whiskey: Prohibition in Memphis", Patrick O’Daniel, University Press of Mississippi, 2018.

"George 'Machine Gun' Kelly – Prohibition Era Outlaw", Kathy Weiser-Alexander, Legends of America, January 2020.

"Machine Gun Kelly", NNDB.

"Machine Gun Kelly", Paradise Historical Society.

Machine Gun Kelly's Kidnapping of Charles Urschel, Lindsay Baker (Lecturer), Fort Worth Library.

An Angry Nation Searches for Machine Gun Kelly", Dave Farris, Edmond [Oklahoma] Life and Leisure, April 21, 2016.

"Kidnapping of Oklahoma City Oil Man Made National Headlines in 1933", Don Gammill, The Oklahoman, July 22, 2014.

"Machine Gun Kelly Meets His Match", Penny Owen, The Oklahoman, July 20, 2003.

"'Machine Gun' Kelly's Wife Lost Chance for Freedom Thwarted Deal Sealed Convictions", The Oklahoman, Ray Robinson, August 3, 1986.

"Warden Tells of Flight of His Convict Captors", [Washington] Evening Star, May 31, 1933, p. 3. Chronicling America, Library of Congress.

The Hunt for the Last Public Enemy in Northeastern Ohio: Alvin "Creep: Karpis", Julie A. Thompson, The History Press, 2019.

Tom's Town: Kansas City and the Pendergast Legend, William M. Reddig, University of Missouri Press, 1947.

American Breweries of the Past, David G. Moyer, AuthorHouse, 2009.

Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary, Jame Fuller (text), Yumi Gay (research), Pierre Odier, Asteron Production, 1982.

The Big House: Alcatraz, History Channel, A&E 1998.

Lonely Island: Hidden Alcatraz, KQED, 2002.

Alcatraz: The Final Sentence, Huckleberry Films, 2001.

J. Edgar Hoover: The Man and the Secrets, Curt Gentry, W. W. Norton, 1991.

"Kelly Is Captured Without Struggle in Memphis Raid", [Washington, D. C.] Evening Star, Page 1, September 26, 1933.

Congressional Record: Proceedings and Debates of the First Session of the Seventy-Second Congress of the United States of America, Volume 75-Part 12, June 13, 1932 to June 23, 1933, Congressional Printing Office.

"Cottondale, Texas", Roadside America.

"George 'Machine Gun Kelly' Barnes", Find-A-Grave, July 12, 1998.

"Charles G. Thorn", Find-A-Grave, Ralph Terry, May 8, 2011.

All the President's Men, Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, Simon and Schuster, 1974.

Machine Gun Kelly Trial, The Oklahoman Video Archive.

"'Machine Gun; Kelly Timeline", Time Toast.