A case of disorganized crime

Linda Sappenfield — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 05:38:00 GMT

If I were a better person, I'd have completely finished Go Down Together: The True Untold Story of Bonnie & Clyde in time for Tuesday's Round Rock Reads! kickoff. As it is, events this weekend meandered out of control in true Bonnie & Clyde fashion.

First, the process of un-holidaying my house went into overtime. I was corralling ornaments into bins and lugging them up the attic stairs long past the allotted time. Next, dismantling the outdoor decorations involved significant follow-up. Things would go slightly awry, giving rise to other maintenance needs: nail holes, paint to be retouched around the door, etc. etc. etc. Then, I yielded to the impulse of reading the one book on hand not required for book discussions. It is neither as well-written or as edifying as Go Down Together, but the sheer defiance of starting it when I didn't have the time was irresistible.

I'd be the perfect Bonnie & Clyde accomplice, demonstrating the very behavioral patterns that landed their photos in post offices across the nation:

Neglecting to factor in annoying practical considerations
Repeatedly operating in reactive rather than proactive mode
Acting on a whim rather than investing in the long-term good

At least, I don't share Clyde's fondness for highway maps (I need a GPS), nor do I fancy myself a poet, as Bonnie did. Those Rand McNally maps that we take for granted today didn't exist before the 1920s; Clyde depended on them and tended to leave them in just about every car he stole. And I was fascinated to learn that he and Bonnie took pride in a spiffy appearance, so much so that they would drop off their outfits for dry cleaning and then station their activity close by until they were able to reclaim their refreshed apparel. Those are just the sort of details that Jeff Guinn infuses frequently and to great effect in his book.

Depression-era America figures as a personality in Go Down Together, as well. Social mores, economic policies, law enforcement staffing, quirks of fate, new products, and media attention all contributed to the outcome of Bonnie and Clyde's story. As for the outlaws' own considerable part in it, Guinn somehow manages to place a myriad of details and evidence at our disposal while still leaving readers the privilege of assigning blame and determining cause.

Drop in for the Round Rock Reads! kickoff event on January 4; following the documentary film, local author Mike Cox will regale us with more intriguing facts about Bonnie & Clyde's era. And don't worry if your Round Rock map has mysteriously gone missing; you can call the library for directions!

Star-crossed and blindsided

Linda Sappenfield — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 21:33:00 GMT

Describing Romeo and Juliet's attraction as "star-crossed" sounds romantic, but Shakespeare was just calling the situation as he saw it. If you check the origins of the word "disaster", you'll find that it amounts to something like "against the stars or fate".

Attendees at Saturday's Round Rock Reads! event at the La Frontera Barnes and Noble heard Mike Cox (author of Texas Disasters: True Stories of Tragedy and Survival) recount numerous instances in which fortune, chemistry, or meteorology produced catastrophic milestones in the state's history. Cox's chronology dates all the way back to a lost Spanish fleet in 1554 and includes the 1900 Galveston flood, the 1916 Paris fire, the 1937 New London school explosion, and the 1953 Waco tornado, among many others.

These accounts offer the kind of truth-is-stranger-than-fiction spectacle that guarantees a riveting read. And the incidents aren't merely fascinating and sad. In some cases, they are also tragic in the Shakespearean sense: a fatal flaw in character, judgment, or priorities shapes decisions contributing to the worst possible outcome. The 1900 Galveston flood (also chronicled in this year's Round Rock Reads! selection, Erik Larson's Isaac's Storm: A Man, a Time, and the Deadliest Hurricane in History) presents just such an example. True, forecasting technology back then didn't generate the wealth of data we have today, but bureau politics and self-interest prevented the utilization of vital climatological data that was available.

Some disasters have left a legacy of progress and innovation, e.g., the use of radar detection following the Waco tornado. As a consequence of the New London explosion, a sulphur-scented additive now instantly signals the presence of natural gas. And speaking of legacies, Cox notes the presence of a young reporter named Walter Cronkite at the New London site.

I found both abovementioned books fascinating, and here's a third title to intrigue you: Stephen Puleo's Dark Tide: The Great Boston Molasses Flood of 1919. It's not about Texas, but it is true. I can only imagine what Shakespeare would have thought of that one.

Search results matching tags 'Round Rock Reads!' and 'Mike Cox'

A case of disorganized crime

Star-crossed and blindsided