Bye Bye Blackbird
Epilogue
Nine years, eleven months and sixteen days after Winstead had visited me I was released on good behavior. It was my birthday. I was 35. Everyone I had known from my old life was dead and gone; I had no money or effects. I could truly start a new. Before I could do that I needed to make one stop. Maybe two.
Since I was already in Chicago I walked past the Biograph. Past that alleyway. The street was still crowded and dirty. No on paid me any mind unless it was to remark upon the shoddy state of my clothes or the opaqueness of my skin. On the wall next to where he went down someone had scrawled a poem.
Stranger stop and wish me well.
Just say a poem for my soul in hell.
I was a good fellow most people said,
Betrayed by a woman all dressed in red.
Anna had been wearing a red skirt that night. I was so mad that I clenched my hand my fist hard enough that my nails broke the skin of my palm. I didn’t notice until someone pointed it out.
"Ma’am. Hey ma’am! You’re bleeding!" The woman tapped my shoulder, breaking me out of my trance.
"What? Oh. So I am." I studied the incarnadine liquid running between my fingers.
"Here." She dug a crumpled hankie from her purse and pressed it against my palm. "Why were you doing that?"
"Just lost in thought I guess..."
"You know what happened here? This is where John Dillinger was killed ten years ago and where Frankie Dietrich was finally arrested."
"You don’t say."
"She was something else that Frankie D. Don’t tell anyone, but I secretly looked up to her when it came out she was a woman. She inspired me to get out of my abusive relationship."
"I’m glad." I couldn’t help but smile.
"Sorry?"
"I said me too. I really... connected... with her."
"My friends and I used to go watch the news just so we could keep up with her and Dillinger. I wonder what she’s doing now?"
"Oh... probably lurking about. I heard she just got
released."
"Oh wow. Wonderful. I was so worried she was going to get the death sentence."
"You and me both. Well thank you for the hankie uhhh...."
"Veronica. Veronica Martin." She held out her hand to shake.
"Verla Kelly." I lied easily.
"Well Verla, look me up sometime. We’ll get a drink."
"I’d like that." We then parted ways. My next stop was Indiana. I picked the pocket of a business man at the train station to get the money for the train ticket. (Old habits die hard. What can I say?) I arrived at Crowne Pointe Cemetery the next day and sank to my knees at the foot of John’s grave.
"Hey baby. Long time no see. They let me out on good behavior. Imagine that. Haha." The tears came then. "I miss you baby. I know you miss me too. I think about you every second of every day... Winstead came to see me. He gave me the message... He’s not such a bad guy. He was just following orders... I went by the Biograph. There’s a poem there. For you. How bleeding heart right? There was a girl there. Said she looked up to me. Well not me, Frankie, but you know. We made a difference baby. We changed peoples’ lives. I love you John Dillinger. I love you so much." By the end the tears had slurred everything together into one unintelligible mess. I sat in silence for a long time, letting 10 years of tears go before finally getting up.
"Time to go west I think. I’ve never been to the west coast. I think I will rather like it." I said to him and walked away.
The train across the country took several days. It gave me a lot of time to think. I thought mostly about what I would do when I got to California but I thought about Veronica too. When I arrived I decided to look up the only person in California I knew.
"Hello Charles." I said when he opened the door.
"Dillinger? What the hell are you doing here?" He was shocked.
"I got let out early. Thought I was time for a change of scenery."
"Let out early?"
"On good behavior. I guess when you’re an angel in the slammer they overlook the fact that you were Public enemy number two but the point is I’m here now."
"Oh yes. Pervis mentioned something about that. He’s rather paranoid lately."
"That’s a shame. Are you going to invite me in or are we going to have a conversation here on your doorstep?"
"Do you have a gun?"
"No I don’t have a gun!" Come on! Really!
"Come on in then." He motioned inside. "You know I’m surprised you never broke out."
"I thought about it. It wouldn’t have been hard, but I had no one to go back to and I was a dying breed. Didn’t see much of a point. Plus if I ever had gotten caught again it would have been the death sentence for sure."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I think maybe I’ll sing. John always loved it when I sang."
"I’d come watch you."
"You’re a sweet man. Even if you did arrest me and kill my husband."
"I told you I wasn’t sorry. I’m still not."
"I know." We sat in silence for a while. "Well I better be going. Tell Melvin I said hello."
"Oh I will." He chuckled. I kissed his cheek and walked out into the warm California sun. Yes, this is a good place to start over.
Frankie Jane De Luca Dillinger had a relatively successful blues career along the west coast. She died in 1951 of liver cancer as a result of a lifetime of drinking.
Charles Winstead died in 1973 of lung cancer in Albuquerque NM. (FACT)
In 1960 Melvin Pervis died by his own hand. (FACT)
Since I was already in Chicago I walked past the Biograph. Past that alleyway. The street was still crowded and dirty. No on paid me any mind unless it was to remark upon the shoddy state of my clothes or the opaqueness of my skin. On the wall next to where he went down someone had scrawled a poem.
Stranger stop and wish me well.
Just say a poem for my soul in hell.
I was a good fellow most people said,
Betrayed by a woman all dressed in red.
Anna had been wearing a red skirt that night. I was so mad that I clenched my hand my fist hard enough that my nails broke the skin of my palm. I didn’t notice until someone pointed it out.
"Ma’am. Hey ma’am! You’re bleeding!" The woman tapped my shoulder, breaking me out of my trance.
"What? Oh. So I am." I studied the incarnadine liquid running between my fingers.
"Here." She dug a crumpled hankie from her purse and pressed it against my palm. "Why were you doing that?"
"Just lost in thought I guess..."
"You know what happened here? This is where John Dillinger was killed ten years ago and where Frankie Dietrich was finally arrested."
"You don’t say."
"She was something else that Frankie D. Don’t tell anyone, but I secretly looked up to her when it came out she was a woman. She inspired me to get out of my abusive relationship."
"I’m glad." I couldn’t help but smile.
"Sorry?"
"I said me too. I really... connected... with her."
"My friends and I used to go watch the news just so we could keep up with her and Dillinger. I wonder what she’s doing now?"
"Oh... probably lurking about. I heard she just got
released."
"Oh wow. Wonderful. I was so worried she was going to get the death sentence."
"You and me both. Well thank you for the hankie uhhh...."
"Veronica. Veronica Martin." She held out her hand to shake.
"Verla Kelly." I lied easily.
"Well Verla, look me up sometime. We’ll get a drink."
"I’d like that." We then parted ways. My next stop was Indiana. I picked the pocket of a business man at the train station to get the money for the train ticket. (Old habits die hard. What can I say?) I arrived at Crowne Pointe Cemetery the next day and sank to my knees at the foot of John’s grave.
"Hey baby. Long time no see. They let me out on good behavior. Imagine that. Haha." The tears came then. "I miss you baby. I know you miss me too. I think about you every second of every day... Winstead came to see me. He gave me the message... He’s not such a bad guy. He was just following orders... I went by the Biograph. There’s a poem there. For you. How bleeding heart right? There was a girl there. Said she looked up to me. Well not me, Frankie, but you know. We made a difference baby. We changed peoples’ lives. I love you John Dillinger. I love you so much." By the end the tears had slurred everything together into one unintelligible mess. I sat in silence for a long time, letting 10 years of tears go before finally getting up.
"Time to go west I think. I’ve never been to the west coast. I think I will rather like it." I said to him and walked away.
The train across the country took several days. It gave me a lot of time to think. I thought mostly about what I would do when I got to California but I thought about Veronica too. When I arrived I decided to look up the only person in California I knew.
"Hello Charles." I said when he opened the door.
"Dillinger? What the hell are you doing here?" He was shocked.
"I got let out early. Thought I was time for a change of scenery."
"Let out early?"
"On good behavior. I guess when you’re an angel in the slammer they overlook the fact that you were Public enemy number two but the point is I’m here now."
"Oh yes. Pervis mentioned something about that. He’s rather paranoid lately."
"That’s a shame. Are you going to invite me in or are we going to have a conversation here on your doorstep?"
"Do you have a gun?"
"No I don’t have a gun!" Come on! Really!
"Come on in then." He motioned inside. "You know I’m surprised you never broke out."
"I thought about it. It wouldn’t have been hard, but I had no one to go back to and I was a dying breed. Didn’t see much of a point. Plus if I ever had gotten caught again it would have been the death sentence for sure."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I think maybe I’ll sing. John always loved it when I sang."
"I’d come watch you."
"You’re a sweet man. Even if you did arrest me and kill my husband."
"I told you I wasn’t sorry. I’m still not."
"I know." We sat in silence for a while. "Well I better be going. Tell Melvin I said hello."
"Oh I will." He chuckled. I kissed his cheek and walked out into the warm California sun. Yes, this is a good place to start over.
Frankie Jane De Luca Dillinger had a relatively successful blues career along the west coast. She died in 1951 of liver cancer as a result of a lifetime of drinking.
Charles Winstead died in 1973 of lung cancer in Albuquerque NM. (FACT)
In 1960 Melvin Pervis died by his own hand. (FACT)