By Brynna Williamson
Bonnie: An old Scottish name that means “pretty,” “beautiful,” or “attractive.” Clyde: Another Scottish name that according to some accounts means “cleansing.”
But to many—especially those whose near relatives claim to have had first-hand accounts in Wood County, Texas—the names of “Bonnie and Clyde” mean something else entirely.
The Desperate, Daring Duo
Everyone loves history. You might say you don’t. You might even think you don’t. But when it gets down to hearing about a daring gang of 20-year-olds roaming around the country, robbing banks and ultimately perishing in a fiery shootout, you’ll sit glued to the edge of your seat, just like the rest of us.
While ultimately, the story of Bonnie and Clyde has been heavily romanticized—due at least in part to the 1967 movie simply called “Bonnie and Clyde”—many of the details we all know are, indeed, accurate.
Bonnie and Clyde are as inseparable as Abbott and Costello, Tom and Jerry, Batman and Robin. But while history holds them up to a standard of romantic perfection, the reality is that they were only together for two years, during which they committed crime after crime and, ultimately, left a trail of bodies in their wake: some civilians, some officers of the law.
Throughout those two years, the infamous couple made several stops in Wood County, and according to local anecdotes, they narrowly avoided robbing Mineola’s bank, picking up ammunition and food in Winnsboro, and even just shopping and running errands.
But before Bonnie Parker became, as our local Wood County newspaper so quaintly put it, “(Clyde’s) cigar-smoking companion,” she was actually a married woman, legally “hitched” to Roy Thornton, her high school sweetheart, who was in prison for murder. When Clyde Barrow met Bonnie through a group of friends, then several years later was paroled from prison, the duo ran away together and soon began a life of crime. Bonnie’s husband never saw her again. Bonnie was 19 years old when she met Clyde. Clyde was 21.
Winnsboro
You think “Winnsboro” in 2025, and you think cool, artsy, wine-festival-with-a-side-of-down-to-earth-agriculture, right?
Well, you would have been right during the 1930s, too. While the Winnsboro of nearly a hundred years ago only boasted “four banks, two potteries, a public library, a cottonseed mill, (and) two weekly newspapers,” according to the Texas State Historical Association, it was definitely considered flourishing for its time.
Perhaps that—combined with the fact that the notorious outlaws allegedly had a local contact to provide shelter, food, and ammunition—is why Bonnie and Clyde came to Winnsboro in Wood County with some regularity.
During the two years that the couple was together, they allegedly stopped by the town for two or three days at a time, eating, shopping, and enjoying the atmosphere. One account says that Bonnie got her hair done at a local salon while Clyde had lunch in town and then “would disappear, then return in several weeks, always on the run.”
The couple parked in front of Winnsboro’s train depot, which is still downtown, to receive their weapons and ammunition. According to the historical marker outside the depot, before their death several days later, a “posse” tried to capture the duo in Winnsboro, but that attempt failed.
Mineola
While Bonnie and Clyde seemed to stay inside the law while in Winnsboro, they did not seem to be under such scruples just 25 miles away in Mineola.
In fact, there are many local accounts of run-ins with the famous outlaws in Wood County, Texas’ beloved town; while some of these stories seem peaceful enough—shopping, stopping for gas, and dining out—others involve tales of alleged beatings and attempted robberies.
“Bill Lindley (my stepfather) told us many times of him seeing Bonnie and Clyde at the Hainesville store when he was a boy. Bill said he stood on the running board of their car, and the back seat was loaded with guns,” wrote one Facebook user.
“My mother tells me of a story about her grandparents, Adkins,” wrote another. “They lived somewhere between Jamestown and Enchanted Lakes. It was cold and late one night when they heard a knock at their door. It was a man who said they were tired and could they sleep in their barn. Of course they said yes. They gave them some blankets. Grandpa Adkins got up early the next morning to ask them if they wanted some breakfast. They were gone. He (found) that they left before daylight. They later figured out it was Bonnie and Clyde by the radio.”
“I always heard that Bonnie and Clyde came into the Eat Shop Cafe through the back door. Mr. Taylor recognized them and called the police/and or sheriff. When the lawman asked what they were doing, Mr. Taylor said they were eating. The lawman said to let them eat and be on their way; no need for a lot of innocent people to be hurt or killed trying to bring them in,” wrote one.
And if you ever wonder how Bonnie and Clyde might be connected to CowBurners BBQ & Taproom, just go in and ask owner Jason Herring. Sid Underwood’s book “Depression Desperado,” which features true stories as told to Underwood by Barrow Gang member Raymond Hamilton, details how our beloved Wood County town narrowly escaped being a victim of one of Bonnie and Clyde’s’ famous bank robberies.
“The following day, Clyde said (a certain job) was too risky, ‘I’ve got a better plan. Let’s you and me go to East Texas and rob the Mineola bank and give all the money to Ray’s attorney to appeal his case.’
Floyd was not keen on the idea, even though Barrow assured him he had cased the bank. Finally, Floyd agreed.”
‘Well, okay,’ Floyd relented. ‘But you go in the bank first. I’ll wear a mask. It doesn’t matter if you’re recognized. In fact, it would probably make it easier for you.’”
Barrow and Floyd met at a predetermined spot outside Mineola, then drove in together. Hamilton went inside the bank to look things over. He didn’t like what he saw: all four employees were there, plus there were numerous customers. Clyde didn’t like the report. “We just can’t do it, then,” Barrow said. “We’ll have to get some help. ‘If you don’t want to rob it with just me, forget it!’ Floyd snapped. The pair returned to Dallas without accomplishing anything.’”
The End
Wood County has certainly had its share of Bonnie and Clyde sightings. Whether in Winnsboro, Mineola, or elsewhere in Wood County (Alba has an interesting history with the outlaws, too), the gang certainly seemed to appear at times, then disappear just as suddenly as they came.
However, while we don’t know strictly fact from fiction on these stories, we do know how Bonnie and Clyde’s “adventures” ended.
Bonnie and Clyde were known to have stopped in Winnsboro in late May—perhaps May 21, 1934—for what some suggest was the couple’s “last breakfast before heading into the history books” just two days later.
After a seemingly unconquerable crime spree that ranged all across the United States, it is ironic to note that the end of Bonnie and Clyde ended up being just 20 miles away from where they started. On April 1, 1934, Bonnie was shot in Grapevine, Texas. Wounded and bleeding profusely, Bonnie was down for the count, and Clyde’s guard fell. And with it, his accuracy and his luck.
As a Winnsboro Preservation League historical marker at the Winnsboro Historical Museum so neatly sums up, “Bonnie and Clyde boasted they would never be taken alive. They met their fate in a shootout near Gibsland, Louisiana on May 23, 1934. Those who live by the sword perish by the sword.”
Wedged between a May 24, 1934 article about a Chamber of Commerce meeting and a list of the 1934 high school graduates, readers will find where the Winnsboro Weekly News printed the headline and its short notice:
“Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker Killed by La. Sheriff. Sailes, La. May 23—Clyde Borrow (sic), Southwest desperado; Bonnie Parker, his cigar-smoking companion, and three men riding with them in an automobile were killed today in a gun battle with officers near here.”
The ill-fated, murderous spree was over. The immensity of having finally caught the “uncatchable” made the deaths of the Barrow gang memorable, even here in Wood County, Texas. “I remember that after these criminals were caught and killed, their bullet-ridden (sic) car was brought through Mineola on display,” wrote Francis Coleman Solither, the daughter of the late Dr. Robert Coleman (a Mineola physician and pharmacist).
But the beauty, the mystery, and the intrigue of it all is that nearly 100 years later, any way to confirm all of our local accounts have all been lost to time.
Who knows whether the couple really did stop at the Eat Shop Café? Did they indeed nearly rob the Mineola bank? Maybe they did stop at a Winnsboro hair salon. Maybe they did just receive weapons, ammunition, and shelter from a contact in Wood County before heading off into the sunset.
Or maybe they never did. Maybe Bonnie and Clyde were, as some seem to believe, a “criminal pair (who) often visited local restaurants and dry goods stores,” but never caused problems, at least, not in Winnsboro. This couple lived fast and died young. They lived in glamor but died in an instant. And the rest? As Winnsboro historian Bill Jones said, “I’m sure some of it is fact, and some of it is fable. You will be the one to decide which is true, and which is not true.”