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Willis Newton Interview – 1979

Willis Newton is the longest-lived outlaw in Texas Who robbed more than 80 banks and trains. He and his gang of gangsters have robbed more than Jesse James, the Daltons, and all the other Old West gangsters combined. Their biggest robbery occurred in 1924 when they robbed a train outside Rondout, Illinois – and got away with $3,000,000. They still hold the record for the largest train robbery in American history.

In 1979, I interviewed Willis Newton at his home in Uvalde, Texas. The gangster died a few months later at the age of 90.

When I went up and knocked on Willis Newton’s door, nothing happened. A minute later, I heard a harsh growl, “The door is open. Come in.”

Walking into the dilapidated partition room and the messy yard, I saw a thin old man sitting on a rocking chair and glaring at me. “What exactly do you want?”

“Mr. Newton, I’m the one who called you yesterday, and I want to ask you some questions.”

“I’m not going to talk to anyone about my life. I’m going to sell it to Hollywood for a lot of money.”

I knew then that interviewing this old gangster was going to be a tricky business. As best I could, I reminded him of our phone conversation the day before, when I asked him for some details on how to rob a bank or a train. I told him I was writing a paperback novel (which was true) and I needed some help describing how the robbery happened (which was also true). After thinking for a moment, he pointed to a chair in the small living room and agreed to answer “a few questions.”

In stark contrast to the frigid weather outside, it was hot and stuffy in his cluttered living room — which was warmed by a small gas fireplace. I quickly unmounted the tape recorder and, after a short chat with Willis, handed him the microphone. I asked him how he hijacked a bank and what was involved in robbing a train. Then, like unwrapping a clockwork toy, Willis began telling me his life story. Every now and then I manage to ask additional questions, but mostly he spouts about his life in machine gun fashion – rationalizing everything he’s done, blaming other people for his incarceration, and repeatedly claiming that he Just stole from “other thieves”.

When I walked into his little house that day, I didn’t know what to expect, but what I encountered was the very essence of Criminal Minds. Everything he does is justified by outside forces, “Nobody gave me anything. All I got was hell!” As I listened intently, he sat center stage, speaking in a piercing high-pitched voice, just His choice of topics is presumptuous. Willis’s speech was laced with profanity, vulgarity and racial slurs, and he told his story with a lisp—a master of fragmented grammar. Sometimes he slips into fairytale mode, talking about killing rabbits and camping while evading law enforcement. Then, with a little prodding, he returns to the basic facts of the story.

Along the way, he told me how he was brought up and how he was first arrested for a crime “they knew I didn’t do”. He details his first bank robbery, how he “smeared” safes with nitroglycerin, robbed trains, and evaded law enforcement officers who were hunting him. Willis describes the Texas Bank robberies (two in one night) in Bourne, San Marcos, New Braunfels, and Hondo. He also recounted two bank robberies in Spencer, Indiana, and proceeded to recount bank robberies in many other states.

Finally, he recounts the 1923 robbery of the Toronto Bank Clearing House and the massive train robbery outside Rundu, Illinois, in which he and his brothers escaped with $3,000,000 in cash, jewelry, and bonds. He detailed how he and his brothers were beaten by Chicago police when they were later arrested. As he told the story, his face turned red and his voice sharpened until he had to stop to catch his breath. He then lowered his voice and described how, by revealing where the loot was stashed, he managed to negotiate a dodgy deal with a postal inspector to reduce his and his brother’s sentences.

After his release in 1929, he described his time in the Leavenworth prison and his illegal business in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Didn’t do it,” in Medford.

After his release from prison, Willis swore after returning to Uvaldi, Texas, that he had “never had a problem with the law since.” When I asked about his brother’s botched bank robbery in Rottweiler, Texas, in 1968, he blew up, “They were trying to find me as a getaway driver, but damn, I was in Laredo, over 400 miles away! I had 12 Witnesses say I was there the night the old doctor and RC were caught.”

At the end of the interview, I asked him to comment on the Rondout loot his brother Jess is buried in Texas. He says he knows where it’s buried—just not entirely because “Jess drank whiskey while hiding it.” Looking at the frail old man in a frayed union suit and a pair of dirty trousers, Willis doesn’t seem to be Keep any loot from any of his heists; though local rumors say he spends money now and then, which appears to have been printed in the 20s or 30s.

Finally, I turned off the tape recorder and thanked him for helping me understand the details needed for a paperback western. Back in my car, the story I just heard was playing in my head. It never occurred to me to write a book about the old gangster, and I told him very sincerely that I was a novelist and not a biographer. But what a story he told!

The following week, I put the cassette in a safe, thinking the information might be useful for a future writing project. Years later, I transcribed the tapes, added my notes and filed the interviews. Then, while working on another book, I saw the interview files and knew I had to write his story—but the full story, not just what Willis told me in the interview. As I found out, this is a much bigger project than I expected. I found hundreds of newspaper and magazine articles, court records and police reports about Willis and his brother. Then, where possible, I interviewed the few remaining people who actually knew Willis Newton and had first-hand accounts.

Along the way, I uncover some startling evidence that dispels the myth that Willis and his brothers never killed while committing countless crimes. This is the first time this fact has been exposed.

After finishing my research, I knew I could write his story. With some minor editing, stripping out some blatantly racial references and copious amounts of profanity, I’ve tried to leave his words intact. I do not approve of the use of racially derogatory terms for people of any race – be it Irish, Jewish, Hispanic, African, Italian or other outcast populace.

In some cases, I had to restructure his account for clarity. He speaks in quick prison prose, using a wide range of sometimes incomprehensible crime jargon. Where possible, I have tried to preserve his colorful diction, using common expressions of the time.

In writing about Willis Newton, I omitted most of his repeated justifications for his actions in which he took pains to paint himself as a heroic criminal—Robin Hood-like. True, he robbed from the rich, but he gave very little to the poor. In some of his accounts, he does describe giving “hard money” (silver coins) to some of the poor and downtrodden peasants who had helped him. Furthermore, he reiterated that he never intended to hurt anyone during the robbery; Shaping and imprinting of conditions. Yet at the same time, there are thousands of other people who work hard and are solid citizens in their communities. Pursuing “easy money” is his choice.

After poring over hundreds of newspaper reports and magazine articles, I was struck by how much of the story differed from what Willis told me, sometimes dramatically. Meanwhile, I found newspapers rushing to cover their stories, misspelling names, getting facts wrong, undercounting or overstating the amount of dollars looted, and having a hard time keeping the names of the Newton brothers—Willis and Wylie (aka Willie or Doc) against them.

Weeks before his death, Willis Newton was taken to a hospital in Uvalde, Texas, where he was examined for a variety of medical problems. After he was there for a few days, I went to his room and visited the old gangster. I knocked on his door, and he answered weakly, “Come in.”

When I entered his room, I saw a very emaciated version of what I had seen in March of that year. Willis, a thin man with a dark red rash covering his legs, tilted his head and asked, “Who are you?”

I politely reminded him that we had talked earlier at his house and he had given me advice on robbing banks and trains. He nodded and looked up at the ceiling, “Well, I remembered.”

I told him how sad it was to see him sick and in pain. He replied, “Yeah, I was going to the bar ditch. The doctor said everything inside me was going crazy. I knew I was dying and wished I could kill myself, but I couldn’t because I still got it.” Only crazy people commit suicide, but I’m not crazy.”

Realizing his time was running out, I asked him if he regretted or was sorry for everything he had done in his life. He tilted his head, raised his head from the pillow and stared at me. “Damn it, no,” he screamed at me. “I’ll still do their thing, but my body is out. If I was 20 years younger, I’d cross the border into Mexico with a gun and bring drugs back! No one’s giving me anything but hell, I’m sorry I’m not ashamed of anything I do!”

So much confession and redemption.

I don’t know how to answer, keep silent. Moments later, staring at the ceiling again, he added: “The only thing I’m sorry about is those cowards who left $200,000 in that bank when they got spooked. Get out before you live. Heck, we left $200,000 on that counter. Damn shame, I told them I always wanted it!”

The next day, they transferred Willis to a hospital in San Antonio, where he died on August 22, 1979. Fierce and defiant to the last pain, he dies by the way he lived as a desperado.

In my interview with Willis in 1979, he gave a detailed account of his time in prison or jail. Describing his first time in jail, he said: “I was jailed for 22 months and 26 days and then sent to Rusk (prison) for two years. Every son of a bitch knows I was Innocent. They know I didn’t break the law!” Then over the years, he spent over 20 years in some type of penal incarceration. I never asked him the question: was it worth it?

I guess the answer will be a resounding, “Of course!”

Spending a quarter of your 90 years in prison doesn’t seem worth it to me.

When I left Willis Newton’s hospital room for the last time, I saw his doctor, who was a personal friend of mine. I asked him about Willis, and he confirmed what the dying man told me. Then with a twinkle in his eye, he asked me if I’d like to see an x-ray of Willis’ spine.

Of course, I didn’t know what to expect.

We went to a nearby screening room and he shot a film on a lighted projection board. There is a very distinct point near the spine. “That’s a German Luger slug he’s been carrying around for about 30 years. An old boy shot him in Oklahoma.”

As I gazed at the painting, the doctor finally said, “Damn it if the old gangster isn’t buried with it!”

I think you could say it’s an appropriate eulogy.

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