The Only Honest Lawman in Texas

I have to confess that I've never actually seen the movie Bonnie and Clyde. I've seen chunks of it, including the ending, never the whole thing from beginning to end. But I've read a good deal about it and have no doubt that the crtics are correct. The film is a masterpiece. It is a great bit of visual story-telling and it probably tells a profound truth about young desperadoes who endeavor to live fast, die young and leave bullet-riddled corpses. It just doesn't tell the actual story about Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow.

We in Texas are used to Hollywood taking extreme liberties with our history. Heck, we're a state of such inveterate bullshit artists, we bring most of it upon ourselves. And recognizing this about ourselves, we're generally willing to cut Tinseltown some slack on this. But the movie Bonnie & Clyde seriously pissed some people off in Texas for its portrayal of Captain Frank Hamer, the Texas Ranger who led the party that hunted down and ultimately bushwacked Bonnie and Clyde.  It portrayed him as a bumbling goober who got captured and held hostage by them for a while.  That was a fabrication which many in Texas simply could not abide in. That's because Frank Hamer was neither bumbling nor a goober nor someone who would ever allow himself to be taken prisoner.  Frank Hamer was an exceedingly tough, scary hombre. During his long career, which started in the earliest days of the Twentieth Century and continued on until 1948, he probably shot and killed at least fifty bad guys. He was himself shot and left for dead five or six times.  He spoke little, was by all accounts unfailingly honest and his skills as a tracker and hunter of men were honed from growing up on the wild Texas frontier of the late 19th Century.

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Hamer told few about his life, but one of the things he did admit to was that he very nearly embarked on a life of crime as a cattle rustler.  But at the last moment he changed his mind and soon after was invited to become a Texas Ranger.  Of course, this was at a time when the Texas Rangers weren't considered necessarily all that honest themselves. A lot were political appointees of crooked governors, of which we've had many.  But Hamer was honest and not someone to be trifled with.  He was revered for his toughness and his honesty and this did not make him popular with every governor that he served under.  A couple times he quit and went to work for Colonel Edwin L Simmons at the Bureau of Prisons.  There had been a breakout from Eastham Farm, engineered by the recently-released  Clyde Barrow.  Simmons ordered Hamer to hunt down the Barrow Gang and bring them to justice.

Hamer spent months driving around parts of Texas and Louisiana and learning about the Barrow Gang's habits.  He visited countless roadhouses and talked to informants and then he gathered up a posse and after cutting a deal with the father of a Barrow Gang accomplice, set up an ambush, using the father as the unwilling bait. The fact that he was planning to kill a woman didn't seem to bother Hamer that much.  He apparently referred to Bonnie as a "female dog."  One of the people in his Barrow Gang ambush party was a Dallas sheriff's deputy named Ted Hinton, who'd known Bonnie fairly well, when she was a waitress in a Dallas cafe where he often ate. He'd known Clyde as well a few years before that. Whatever personal feelings Ted Hinton may have had for them, he was able to put them aside and kill them when the time came.

It was an ambush. For a number of years, the ambushers maintained the fiction that Bonnie and Clyde had been given a chance to surrender, but it was a lie. It was a massacre.

Hamer was celebrated as a hero.  There is a good chance he may have split whatever money they recovered with the local cop who'd joined the ambush party. Hamer certainly did keep all the weapons which the two outlaws had with them and sold them off.  He was still a hero. He did what had to be done and he did it in a merciless and methodical manner.

After that Hamer stayed out of the limelight.  But then fourteen years later, in 1948,  he strapped on his holster and went after another criminal,  this time in the streets of Alice, Texas.  The crime in question was the stealing and stuffing of ballot boxes in a US Senate election. He faced down the criminal on the streets and if only the standoff had turned into a shootout, the history of the world would probably have been completely different.  The criminal in question was one overly ambitious young congressman name Lyndon Baines Johnson. The ballot box he'd stolen and switched with one he'd stuffed allowed him to win the senate election by a margin of a mere 48 votes.  Five years later, the junior senator from Texas was the Senate Majority Leader and one of the most powerful politicians in American History.  Fifteen years after that, Lyndon Johnson was President and captain of the American Nation's disastrous course into the Vietnam War, which we've yet to fully recover from.

If only Hamer had gotten to gun down one more bad guy!

Frank Hamer is a major character in my novel, Friend of the Devil. I've taken a few liberties with him myself, but I've tried very hard to stay faithful to the character as I understand it. Bonnie and Clyde are in there, as well, and I would have to say I think I nailed those two young snakes pretty accurately.

When the Nazi Government finally convened

One of the strange things about going back to study and learn about Nazi Germany after a couple decades of doing other things (like, for instance, having a job) is finding out how much the field has changed while I was gone. Back when I was all obsessed with the subject in the late-1970s, the subject of  "Future Nazi weapons" AKA  "Luftwaffe 1946" was stuck at a really rudimentary level. There was interest, to be sure, but the nerds and geeks into it had no way of finding each other and sharing information, at least not on the scale necessary to really move the subject forward. Then the internet got invented and that allowed communities to form and information to fly back and forth.

A field similar to this is The Nazi Germany that was planned and designed, but never brought into existence. The best example of this is Germania, the future capital city dreamed up by Hitler and designed by Albert Speer. There was always a lot of interest in that, probably beginning the moment that the plans were found. For years and years all there was were some drawings and this film clip that the Nazis had made at some point before the war,  showing a tiny working fountain spewing water and expert use of lighting and shadow. It is particularly strange and almost sad to look at especially when compared to the sheer gross tonnage of  the geek-boy computer animations which in recent years have sprung up all over YouTube. Speer did all these designs for stuff that never existed, except in the minds of men who remain 12-year olds at heart. It takes that sort of adolescent imagination to jump into that world and dream about what it would have been like. The rest of us haven't got the attention span.

But Speer did design things that were actually built. He designed the new Reichschancellery building and a number of other impressive buildings, none of which survived the war.  About all there is left standing of his architectural legacy are a couple of street lamps.  But there are the drawings and photographs and they're all easily accessible.  Rather than go into an orgy of assessing how good or bad an architect Speer acually was, it is enough to say he was a highly competent designer.  He sold his soul for the opportunity to design a city that was supposed to last a thousand years.  He got to work on the big canvas and he wasn't shy about making the most of it. Of course, the joke ultimately was on him.

What I myself always found fascinating in Speer's designs was the degree to which he was willing to sweat the small details with the same attention and care that he put into the large, megalomanical stuff.  Look at the grand corridors of the Reich Chancellery,  how at one side was an immense bank of windows, while on the inside, there were a long line of couches, stuffed chairs and coffee tables. I could always imagine diplomats and ministers sitting and conferring on them.

There were also the drawings and photographs of Hitler's offices, but one of my favorites was the massive rectangular table where the government ministers would sit during government meetings. The photographs always noted that the table was never used since the Nazi government never actually convened a single session in their twelve years of existence. It tells a lot about Hitler's particular genius. More than one historian observed that the Nazis weren't truly totaliarian, because nothing about it was ever clearly enough delineated to actually be totaliarian. There was never an official Number Two after Hitler.  What it really was was a German version of an Oriental court.

Hitler didn't like order. Schedules were for other people to adhere to. Some of his old-school critics in the Army would secretly refer to him as the "Bohemian Corporal," because of his free-wheeling, non-organized ways.  He was at heart an artist, and he ran his Reich exactly that way. He liked keeping people off balance, rules and points of order went against his way of doing things.

The real funny thing is that ultimately the Nazi government only started convening after Hitler was dead. Hitler's successor, Grand Admiral Doenitz, ran his version of the Reich, for a little over three weeks and on every one of those days, the cabinet met and held meetings, with himself, the Reich's President, dutifully presiding over them.

He continued to do so even after it became clear that their juristiction only went as far as the gates of the Flensburg Marineschule, which served as the Third Reich's final capital. Since the Germans had by then already surrendered, Allied officers often sat in on the government meetings to observe the proceedings. When Eisenhower finally decided that enough was enough and directed the British Army to roll up the Flensburg Government and arrest everyone they could find,  they made a point of doing it in the middle of a morning cabinet meeting. The tommies burst in with bayonets on their rifles and helmets on their heads, shouting at everyone to put their hands up. They stripped the Germans, beat them up, relieved them of all their medals, watches, rings, pistols, and daggers, which they claimed as souvenirs. All a bit of fun on Jerry and a fitting way to end the last chapter of the Third Reich.

Anyone wanting to learn more about the bizarre, surreal, three-week "Flensburg Reich"  might want to read my bizarre, surreal novel GERMANIA, published by Simon & Schuster, available in hardcover, paperback, and as an ebook.

West Dallas, home of Bonnie & Clyde, and a whole lot less

My second novel, Friend of the Devil, is a somewhat supernatural tale set during the last days of Bonnie and Clyde's bloody run for glory. My hometown, Dallas, lays claim to two moments in history: the JFK Assassination, and Bonnie & Clyde. And, naturally, is uncomfortable with both. The cool thing growing up there, though, is finding out how the two phenomena were inextricably linked together. Though separated by thirty years, a number of the people involved in the hunt for Bonnie and Clyde were later players in the Kennedy assassination. The most famous being Sheriff Bill Decker. Bonnie and Clyde are still everywhere in Dallas. You just have to nose around a little bit and not be afraid to ask people. Because all the old geezoids in Dallas tend to have stories about them. For instance, I discovered a bank they robbed only about half a mile from my house. Our favorite butcher at Whole Foods revealed to me that Clyde had dated his grandma

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before settling down with Bonnie. One of my writing students, a Mexican lady, told me how her great uncle had a bakery in Denton, famous for its tamales and also the marihuana that they sold at the back door. Apparently old Clyde had a taste for both. And her grandmother still remembers them coming by. Even better, I learned our house was on the grounds of what had been a bridle trail next to a riding stable, where the two often hid out. The last time Clyde was seen in Dallas, one of the cops who was later to kill him spotted him driving up Buckner Boulevard only to disappear before he could catch up with him. Sounds like he was probably hiding there at the time. The spot was only a couple of hundred yards from the stables. Bet you anything that where he disappeared to.

I guess the point of all this is that my hometown had a colorful past once and I hate the idea of it being forgotten in favor of all the corporate blandness that seems to have smothered it in the last 50 or so years.

Want to read a cool book where God, the Devil and a dope-smoking, atheist blues musician collide with Bonnie and Clyde in a bizzare and weirdly funny road novel? Have a Kindle? You do? Good! Be a pal and go download Friend of the Devil.

Also, check out this article about my friend, Catherine Horsey, a daughter of West Dallas and all-around artiste. http://blogs.dallasobserver.com/mixmaster/2012/07/catherine_horsey_tells_us_abou.phpD

Person of Interest: Admiral Hans Georg von Friedeburg

von Friedeburg signs the surrender to Montgomery

One of the more shadowy characters that I encountered while researching my novel on the "Flensburg Reich" was Admiral Hans Georg von Friedeburg. At the time, remarkably little was known about him, even though he played a prominent role in the German Navy up to the time of his death on May 23, 1945. If you go to nearly any high school or courthouse in America today, you will find, framed on the walls, copies of many of the key documents of American History, provided to them by some organization called The Exchange Club. There, among copies of the Constitution, the Articles of Confederation, the Gadsen Purchase, and the Emancipation Proclamation, is a copy of the unconditional German Surrender signed at Rheims, France on May 7, 1945. And there, among all the signatures, is the neat signature of Grand Admiral Hans Georg von Friedenburg . His story is an extremely odd one and is worth telling.

There were three separate German surrenders that marked the end of World War II in Europe. The first was at Luneburg Heath in Northern Germany to British Field Marshal Montgomery. The second was in Rheims, France, to Allied Supreme Commander General Dwight Eisenhower. The third was in Berlin to Russian Field Marshal Konev. Von Friedeburg was the only individual to attend all three. And if not for this, he would be barely a footnote in history. But by being there, his image and face are something anyone who knows even a little about World War II is familiar with.

The main reason von Friedeburg was such a shadowy figure is simply because of who he was shadow to; Grand Admiral Karl Doenitz. Beginning sometime in the late 1930s, when Doenitz became head of U-boats, von Friedeburg was right there behind him. Then, when Doenitz became head of the Navy, following Grand Admiral Raeder's dismissal by Hitler, von Friedeburg became head of U-boats. Finally, when Hitler killed himself and Doenitz became head of state, von Friedenberg became the new head of the Navy.  Always a step behind Doenitz and for that reason, nearly indistinguishable from him.

A day or two after taking over from Hitler, Doenitz sent von Friedeburg to Montgomery to arrange an end to hostilities. Doenitz was under the impression that the grand alliance between the Soviets and the Western Allies was already at the point of breaking up and that we would be amenable to them joining us in a new entente against the Russians.  Von Friedeburg went to Montgomery also expecting he would be treated with a certain amount of gallantry and generosity of spirit as was customarily expected between victor and vanquished. But von Friedeburg was in for a big surprise.
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Montgomery was probably already known among his fellow Allied generals as being a bit of a prick. By this point in the war, Eisenhower was already sick of him, since Monty.had a way of taking the lion's share of resources while moving a little too cautiously against the enemy. His battles against the more audatious American General Patton were already well known to anyone in the West who could read a newspaper. But it is doubtful that von Friedeburg or anyone accompanying him knew this. It was enough to know that Monty was in charge of all military operations in northern Germany.  The Germans had a massive evacuation operation going on in the Baltic, comparable to what the British had done at Dunquerque in 1940, only much, much bigger.

When von Friedeburg arrived at Monty's TAC HQ, Montgomery went out of his way to be a total prick. Part of this was, of course, his own already-described nature, but the main reason was that, only a few days before, Monty's troops discovered Belsen, one of the Nazi's most notorious death camps. And what they'd seen there so shocked and disgusted them that there was very little gentility left to give to von Friedeburg. Within a very short time after meeting Montgomery, von Friedeburg suffered a nervous breakdown and was soon openly weeping. He briefly went back to confer with Doenitz at Levensau Bridge. Doenitz apparently harshly upbraided him and sent him back to Montgomery to try to negotiate. Montgomery would have none of it and curtly informed von Friedeburg that if he did not immediately sign an unconditional surrender, the truce would end, hostilities would be resumed and he would merrily kill as many fleeing German refugees as he could. He did, however, let von Friedeburg know that he would be willing to turn a blind eye on the German evacuation activities if they would agree to an unconditional surrender. A few minutes later, the surrender was signed and the war in northern Europe had ended.

Having done this, von Friedeburg assumed he would then be allowed to return to Doenitz's headquarters. But it was not the case. He was immediately flown to Rheims to sign another surrender, this time to General Eisenhower. Von Friedeburg had hoped that Eisenhower might be more amenable to his entreaties. After all, Eisenhower was a political general and a world leader and surely he must know what was going on. Besides, Eisenhower was of German origin. But as it turned out, Eisenhower wouldn't even meet with him. He, too, had recently visited German death camps and was at least as disgusted with what he saw as Montgomery. Instead, he sent in his Chief of Staff, General Walter Bedell Smith. For all Eisenhower's reputation as a smiling, likeable nice guy, the reason he could do this was because Bedell Smith, his right-hand man, was an out-and-out bastard, whom fearless warriors like Patton and Montgomery were both terrified of. Bedel Smith was an even bigger prick to von Friedeburg than Montgomery had been. He also demanded a complete and unconditional surrender, this time without any offers of off-the-books accommodations. Then, when von Friedeburg asked they were being treated so ungallantly, Bedel Smith let out a cruel laugh and promptly presented the German admiral with the latest copy of Stars and Stripes, which showed in ghastly detail the atrocities committed at Dachau, Belsen, Ravensbruck, and other newly liberated concentration camps. Von Friedeburg stared in horror at all the pictures of starved, beaten, and mass murdered Jews and he promptly had another nervous breakdown. Bedel Smith suspended the negotiations and sent the Germans off to a guesthouse to stew on it.

The next day, when Bedel Smith summoned them back, von Friedeburg was still so visibly unhinged that Bedel Smith demanded Doenitz send in someone else capable of surrendering. Ten hours later, Colonel General Alfred Jodl arrived. Cool and composed, Jodl also tried to convince the Allies to join up with them against the Soviets. But he was not successful. In the end, Jodl signed the unconditional surrender and von Friedeburg signed after him. Jodl was allowed to fly back to Flensburg to Doenitz's headquarters. Not so von Friedeburg. The Allies still had plans for him. He was taken to Berlin, where he signed a third surrender, this time to the Soviets. By this point, von Friedeburg was mostly in a daze. Finally he was allowed to fly back to Flensburg. For the next two weeks, he continued a kind of zombie existence in the land of the living, but no longer really alive.

The "Flensburg Reich" was often marked by extremely peculiar behavior of its occupants. Von Friedeburg's behavior during this period was mainly listless. Apparently the other Nazis mostly just avoided him. Then, finally, on May 23, the Allies rolled up the whole regime and arrested everyone. Doenitz, von Friedeburg and Jodl were all summoned to the Patria, an old Hamburg-Amerika liner, where the Allied Control Commission was headquartered. There they were tersely informed of their government's liquidation and they were all promptly placed under arrest. They were then escorted back to their quarters to pack their bags. Once there, von Friedeburg asked to go to the bathroom, where he promptly took some prussic acid and killed himself. One of the first people to find his body was the celebrated LIFE Magazine photographer Margaret Bourke-White, who had him taken off the toilet and laid down on a bed, where she photographed him. On the wall behind him, was a framed portrait of Doenitz. This photograph of von Friedeburg was the last entry in a grand LIFE photo essay showing a succession of various top Nazis who'd killed themselves with pictures of Hitler always in the background. It was always the same picture and perhaps through persistence of vision or some other bit of visual trickery, the photograph of Doenitz above von Friedeburg's unhappy corpse seems indistinguishable from them.

von Friedeburg as posed by Margaret Bourke-White

As I said, for years and years, I gathered research on the "Flensburg Reich," and though I gathered a lot of information on a lot of people and events, what I had on von Friedeburg never progressed beyond the barest of a barebones outline. I spent years of my life wondering about him and trying to figure out what had gone on in his head during those terrible, humiliating days of surrender. I never found out, but when the time finally came to write my book,  Germania, I simply did the best I could using my imagination. I used him as a sort of literary device. What if he were the one Nazi who through some defect in his personality could not engage in the infuriating denial that all the others did, where they claimed that they didn't know about it or that they were just following orders? What if he were the one who drank deeply of his own guilt so that he wallowed in it, admitted and embraced the implications of his and his nation's awful criminality? In a sense, von Friedeburg became the moral center of my novel, a stark contrast to all the other Nazi leaders who envisioned bright futures for themselves and spent their time in Flensburg trying to disassociate themselves from their unpleasant past.

Soon after I finished and sold the novel to Simon & Schuster, some very telling details of von Friedeburg's life began accreting onto the Internet. That before the war, he had spent a period serving as a naval liaison to Reichsfuhrer SS Heinrich Himmler. Of all the admirals in the German Navy, he was among the staunchest Nazis. He had gotten quite close with both Hitler and Himmler. Then I learned he had a very dark secret. Hans Georg von Friedeburg had a Jewish grandmother. Hans Georg von Friedeburg was a Jew.

(Germania was first published by Simon & Schuster in 2008, and is now also available on Kindle here).

Person of Interest: Werner Baumbach

Werner Baumbach is a person on the fringes of history whom I've been interested in for a very long time. Apparently, so are a lot of other people. During the war, he was Germany's leading dive bomber pilot. He flew the JU-88 two-engine bomber on a number of fronts. He also got pulled out of combat in the middle of the war to help develop the "Mistel", an unmanned bomber. Shortly before the end of the war, he got put in charge of a secret, SS-run squadron known as KG200, which he reorganized into a special escape squadron to fly high-level Nazis out of Germany to safe havens abroad. They used any available aircraft, including captured B-17s, to do this.

KG200 remains one of the top mysteries of the Third Reich. Very little is actually known about it. It was organized into several different staffels, none of which apparently knew anything about each other's existence. Some staffels flew captured Allied aircraft, which they used for a variety of tasks, including parachuting secret agents abroad, as far away as Jordan and Iraq. They also flew massive BV222 Wiking flying boats to remote weather stations in the Arctic, as well as for who knows what else. It appears that not even Hermann Goering or Luftwaffe High Command knew anything about their activities. KG200 took its orders from Reichsfuehrer SS Heinrich Himmler.

What almost no one, including Hitler, knew, was that Himmler was not quite the "Faithful Heinrich" everyone believed him to be. He had secret negotiations going with the West and when he started flying top Nazis out of Germany, most people who knew about it assumed that it was being done on Hitler's orders, but in fact it was not. By all indications, Baumbach was a die-hard Nazi. And to this day, he is regarded as such within certain neo-Nazi circles. But according to some sources, most notably Albert Speer, his long-time friend, Baumbach was so disgusted with what he was being ordered to do, that he was entertaining notions of flying Hitler and other top Nazis into Allied hands, should he be given the opportunity. It is also rumored, though there is no way of proving it, that Baumbach had flown a giant JU-390 bomber out of Prague's Ruzyne airport, loaded with top Nazis, including SS General Hans Kammler, to Barcelona. Officially, Kammler died in Prague just as the Russians were coming in, but many now believe Kammler had been alowed to leave after cutting a deal with the Americans for German rocket scientists and secret weapons technology.

But possibly the strangest thing Baumbach is believed to have done was the way he broke with Heinrich Himmler. When Hitler found out Himmler had betrayed him, he removed him from the post of Reichsfuhrer SS and gave the post to Karl Hanke, Gauleiter of Breslau. The moment Hitler did that, Baumbach's loyalty to Himmler ended and was transfered to the new man. The problem was, Hanke was in Breslau, a German city inside Poland that had been surrounded by the Russians since February. Hanke was a die-hard Nazi, who had been hanging anyone in Breslau who questioned his orders to fight to the last. He had by this point executed more than two thousand citizens, hanging them from lamp posts. But when his new appointment came, he immediately got Baumbach to fly him out of Breslau in a helicopter. Baumbach flew him to Prague and after dropping him off, somehow high-tailed it north to Rugen, an island in the Baltic, where KG200 had a fleet of five fiant BV222 flying boats. Apparently the plan was to take them to Flensburg and load them up with Nazis that were gathered there, waiting eagerly for a flight out. It alone would have been his greatest feat, flying several thousand top Nazis out in one fell swoop. But instead, once he arrived in Flensburg with his aircraft, rather than carrying out his plan, he simply stopped. He holed up at Schloss Glucksburg, a nearby castle owned by one of his friends, he invited Albert Speer to stay with him, and the two proceeded to get very drunk. At one point, they talked about flying one of the Wikings to Greenland and spending the summer fishing, hunting walrus, kayaking and writing their memoirs together. Perhaps they would have done this, had Speer not been visited by a group of American economists, bankers and Wall Street lawyers, who wanted to interview him on the effects of strategic bombing on the German war economy.

It's not clear exactly what happened after that. Somehow the flying boats got blown up and sunk in the harbor. A few days later, the British rolled up the Flensburg government, taking Speer, and presumably Baumbach, prisoner. Baumbach spent two years in Britain in a POW camp. He apparently cooperated with his captors and testified against members of the SS during the Nurenburg war crimes trials. After that, he moved to Argentina and joined the Argentinian airforce. He gave interviews to Time Magazine and to visiting American scholars. There is a famous picture of him demonstrating an aircraft simulator to Juan Peron. Then one day in 1953 he was selected to take a newly purchased British Lancaster bomber on a test flight. But shortly after he got the Lancaster up in the air, the aircraft unaccountably exploded, killing Werner Baumbach.

Werner Baumbach is the main protagonist of Baumbach's Run, the novel I am currently writing. It will be a sequel, of sorts, to my first novel, Germania (Simon & Schuster, 2008, now also available on Kindle here). Both Baumbach and Speer are major characters in Germania.

Hello World

Hello World. Welcome to my random blatherings. I am a writer and journalist. My interests are all over the place. I intend to write about current events and modern-day defense issues, but also WWII, paleontology, Cold War spies, and the Blues. Hopefully, you'll find something entertaining.