Category Archives: Chub Anderson

As promised, here is the second installment in my series about Chub Anderson during the time he was incarcerated at Lansing Prison

Around Town with the Original Buffalo Dale

Welcome back to Part II of “Buffalo Dale Behind The Walls…”  Before we get to “D” block I want to remind you that my paperwork hasn’t been processed yet and there’s a few more hoops to jump through before I get my second interview with Mr. Anderson. Also at this point in time I had not read In Cold Blood or seen the new movie about Truman Capote and these things will have some meaning as we continue our tour.

“D” block is where the mules used to be housed back in 1879 when the inmates started mining for coal on the 2,538-acre prison property. Today there are around thirty miles of mine tunnels under the city of Lansing from this period. This section of the prison was later converted to inmate housing with wire mesh doors and block walls but you canstill imagine the mules and coal mining prisoners who once occupied this area.

“H” block is our next stop where there is dormitory style housing and this is where Brett tells me about the Safe Harbor prison dogs. The inmates here all have a dog assigned to them from the local pound  and they train them to sit, come, and stay. They housebreak, or in this case prison break the dogs and then adopt them out. At the present time 1,250 I must say very well trained dogs have been adopted. I was very impressed with all the inmates here and if you’re interested in adopting a dog from their program here is their website: www.safeharborprisondogs.com You’ll get a great dog and what a story to tell your friends. You can also call my new friend Laura Phillippi for more info at (913) 250-0203.

My blood pressure takes an upward spike here as Brett’s radio started getting some chatter going and before you know it all the cell doors close, guards are scrambling and I am locked in. There’s been a security breach and I’m thinking about an inmate takeover but wait- I’ve been watching too many movies. It’s a false alarm and before you know it things are back to normal. Brett doesn’t blink an eye and we move on.

As we walk toward the clinic, Brett is telling me more about the notorious Hickock and Smith story and about Truman Capote. The clinic provides dental & optical care, physical therapy, x-ray and laboratory work along with mental health crisis intervention counseling and psychological evaluations of the inmates. This is very good care for men that are in a bad situation in life.

As we near the maximum security “B” block I want to mention that neither Brett nor the warden know who Chub Anderson is. To them he is just another man doing his time.

With that in mind this is where a strange thing happened.

I was following Brett into “B’ block and listening to his Hickock and Smith stories when we stopped about 20 cells down the corridor . This is where Hickock and Smith must have been held before they were hung in 1965. Over the P.A. I hear “mess call, mess call”. It is 12:30 PM and time for the prisoners in this section to be released for lunch. As I listen to the click,click,click,click of automatic locks opening, men start leaving their cells. They are putting on their clothes as they come out because its over 100 degrees in the prison – no a.c. here and its hot! As Brett continues to talk, the door to one of these cells opens and a thin older man with a shaved head steps right out in front of me. I have to take a second and a third look to believe my eyes but yes it is Chub Anderson pulling on his clothes less than 10 feet from me! I  don’t think he recognizes me and I interrupt Brett’s story to mention that this is the man I’m trying to see. Brett is also quite amazed and he reminds me that I haven’t been cleared for any conversation so I just watch Chub walk down to the cafeteria for lunch. His condition looks about the same as a couple of weeks ago as he walks away without speaking to anyone. Now the odds against my stopping at his cell at that time had to be astronomical- that out of 2,400 men I would run into Chub this way. It must have been fate. But in any event I obeyed the rules and Warden McKune appreciated it.

I am about out of space so the information that Warden McKune copied me on about Hickock and Smith and how Truman Capote was granted access to these two killers will have to wait until next week. But before I go here are a few quick facts about the Kansas State Penitentiary:

The prison was founded in 1859 and it is the largest and oldest prison in the state.

Until 1909 the prison also housed inmates from Oklahoma.

The prison has provided $1,098,680 in free community labor for many different state projects.

The ethnic breakdown of the prison population is as follows:

Caucasian                                 59%

African American                38%

Native American                    2.2%

Asian                                            .5%

The age breakdown of the prison population is:

19 and under                                .2%

20-29                                         29%

30-39                                         34%

40-49                                         25%

50-59                                           .8%

over 60                                        .3%

The average age for a prisoner is 36 years old. The oldest inmate is 86 and the youngest is 16. Mr. Anderson will soon be 65.

Next week: they lived together, killed together, were hung together and they’re buried together. Dick Hickock and Perry Smith- my behind the walls’ scoop. Also coming up 20 tons of pot northeast of Dewey and my connection to landowner Pat Scudder.

Until then, released on good behavior at 2:10 PM July 27, 2006 one Original Buffalo Dale and I’ll see ya down the road.

My project continues to move forward and for the time being it has left my hands. Hopefully I will have some exciting news to bring you before long. Meanwhile I will continue to post my weekly columns and this week I am starting a four part series that dates back to when I first met Chub and began interviewing him in 2006.

This week will be the start of a four week adventure that will take you behind the walls of the oldest penitentiary in the Kansas/Oklahoma territory- dating back to the days when Oklahoma sent their inmates to Kansas to be imprisoned.

You’ll be with notorious inmates Richard Hickock and Perry Smith and hear how Truman Capote moved around freely behind the prison walls.  You’ll also learn how life is for Chub Anderson and his strange crossing of fate with Hickock and Smith. You’ll visit the old prison cemetery which Walter Cronkite comes to every year and learn why and meet a Supreme Court Justice along the way. We’ll go on location to what was the largest cultivated marijuana crop field in the state, find out how it was discovered and interview several of the people involved including the growers. You’ll meet Rudy Briggs who was one of the first sheriff’s investigators on the scene of the Mullendore murder and follow his steps around the country in this made-for-the-big-screen real life mystery.

So fill up your canteen and come along with me to Lansing Kansas for the first installment of the Original Buffalo Dale Behind The Walls.

It’s July 27, 2006 and we’re being searched by the first of many guards we’ll face on entry.No phones or smoking materials are allowed and naturally no guns, knives or weapons of any type. And no cash over $50 can be taken into the prison. Money is not needed inside these confines and you will be searched coming out also. The thought is that visitors might be laundering money for the inmates.

After being processed I am issued a badge to be worn at all times, my hand is stamped with invisible ink and my license is returned to me to be kept handy throughout my visit. I am told to take a seat in the waiting area where I meet two men who are being released that morning and are waiting for a bus that will take them to anyplace they choose in Kansas. I don’t have to wait long but I have time to visit with one of the two inmates who told me about the bus ticket, the $100 “gate money” every inmate receives when released and the games you have to play to survive behind the walls. The anxiety of this young man is clearly visible and he says that just waiting for the bus to arrive is the worst. He just wants to taste his freedom. I wish him well as Brett Petersen, Executive Officer to the warden arrives and my journey inside Lansing Correctional Facility begins.

Our first steel door opened and my driver’s license was required to proceed. Then we walked down a long hallway to a set of steel bars where my hand was swiped under an infrared blue light. Then I moved through another set of steel gates where my ID badge was scanned. Along the way I’m getting to know Brett and asking him what now that I look back seem like some pretty dumb questions because after this last gate I’m standing in an island like place where they have their own system of rules that you live by.  The thought of someone coming up behind you is ever constant as you look at the inmates who are moving around freely, going about their business. It takes some getting used to but as we head to the industrial area Brett’s manner is so professional that my fears drift off and before long my blood pressure goes back down and I am peppering Brett with questions again.

Our first stop is the toy shop where some of the finest woodworking I’ve ever seen is done, creating toys for not-for-profit and government fund raising events and for distribution to underprivileged children. Next door is a laser design shop where men are doing some extraordinary work making signs and other products.  Then comes the paint and metal working shop where all the Kansas State highway signs are made and the paint is produced for the highways and school buses. There is also an embroidery shop which makes all the hats for the NCAA, the NFL, major league baseball teams and companies such as Gear and Sprint. In addition there are several other smaller shops that make goods of various kinds, all with inmate labor. It is quite fascinating and keeping these men busy I believe is the reason this area seems so tranquil. There are several private companies that work inside the walls and supply “civilian” crew bosses who teach the inmates how to operate the machinery and provide them with a trade if they don’t have one..

At any given time there are 500-600 men working in the industrial division on three 8 hour shifts- 24 hours a day if needed. They are paid minimum prevailing wage to start and 25% goes back to the penitentiary for room and board. 10% is put into mandatory savings, a small amount is paid into each inmates commissary account and the balance is paid into a victims’ restitution fund.

Next we go into the C unit where disruptive inmates are housed in segregated cells to maintain the security of the prison. You don’t want to go here and my impression is that you’d better be tough if you’re working in this area. My hat goes off to the guards securing these men. On average a guard works about three years before deciding either to leave or make this their career. If they stay they begin to work their way up the chain of command as warden Dave McKune and Brett Petersen have done- two fine dedicated men. While I’m talking about the guards- there are 463 working three shifts here watching over the 2,400 inmates in residence. This works out to about  154 guards on each shift. My blood pressure is going up again! I’d better take a break. Next week “D” block, “H” block and the Safe Harbor prison Adopt-A-Dog program that Brett is involved with. It’s a great story. Also coming up- coal mining inmates, the clinic, maximum security “B” block and the Chub Anderson-Truman Capote connection. Until then official guest #938 will be seeing ya down the road…..

Very little information has been given to the general public about Chub Anderson’s death.  After a gravesite service attended by several dozen friends from  his past Chub was quietly buried in a small cemetery. Many believe that he took the truth about who really killed E.C. Mullendore to the grave with him. The following story which ran in the Bartlesville Examiner Enterprise on May 4, 2011 includes a few details about his final resting place.

Down The Road with the Original Buffalo Dale

Welcome back.  Those of you who have been following my column for the past six years will have read about trips to far off places, great fundraisers and dozens of interesting people. Stars like Tom Selleck and Ernest Bourgnine and local leaders like Bill Creel and Virgil Gaede have been equally interesting to me and I hope to my readers. I’ve also covered the unusual in my investigation of mutilated calves in New Mexico and interviews with a team of paranormal investigators from Salt Lake City.

With all that said, this week’s interview with professional C.S.I. investigator Gerry (for security I have to withhold his last name) who was in town on business last week, may top them all.

This “Cemetery Search Investigator” is for real. From the famous to family members, Gerry has performed searches for them all, helped with data provided by his wife Connie. Over the years, Gerry has carved a name for himself in this specific and little known field. As with all investigators, confidentiality  is important in this man’s business and so the name of who he was working locally will have to remain a secret for now, sorry!

He did tell me that the famous outlaw Henry Starr is buried in the Dewey cemetery and also mentioned that he had been once been requested to locate the grave of Frank Phillips who is buried on the grounds of his beloved Woolaroc.

Another more recent case involved finding the final resting place of the outlaw Queen Belle Starr. It has been documented that Belle was born on February 5, 1845 and that she married for the first time at eighteen. Soon after she began a lawless life, running with the Jesse James and Cole Younger gangs. She died on February 3, 1889 and Gerry found out that she was killed by a shotgun blast to her back. Her murder remains unsolved but his client wanted to know where she was buried.

Dozens of interviews and miles of hiking chasing blind leads eventually brought him to Eufaula Dam. Gerry found Belle’s cabin located on what was known in those days as “Younger’s Bend” on the Canadian River. This was a well known hangout of the Younger gang in the 1880s and is near the present day town of Porum, Oklahoma.

It was difficult to find the cabin in the heavily wooded area about a mile below the dam but once he did, the rest was easy. Just 40 feet in front of the still standing rock foundation lies a small marker where Belle was shot and then buried, ending the life of one of the most colorful figures in Oklahoma history.

Jerry also told me about Arthur “Pretty Boy” Floyd who he located in Akins Cemetary near Sallisaw, Oklahoma. Pretty Boy, who was listed on the FBI’s Most Wanted list, was a bank robber and was eventually gunned down in a shootout with federal agents near Liverpool, Oklahoma.

Chub Anderson is another person whose grave he has been asked to identify and he stated that he is buried in a small cemetary west of Coffeyville, Kansas.

People have various reasons for hiring Gerry to seek out these final resting places and his record book of names and places is a document that I think should be preserved for future historians.

Till next time, I’ll see ya down the road….

Rita Thurman Barnes wrote this appreciation of the late funeral director Arnold Moore which appeared in the Bartlesville Examiner Enterprise on Sunday April 24^th. The Arnold Moore Funeral Home played a significant role in the story I have been writing and she has given permission to post his  profile. Anyone who has watched the videos of the conversation between Chub and old Sheriff Wayman on this website might remember the name Arnold Moore.

I’ve been thinking about Arnold a lot lately. Thinking about him when I pass his lovely old business there on Johnstone at Adams Boulevard and thinking about how long I should have waited to write my memories of him after his passing. And I wrote the story and then lost it and had to write it again. I think Arnold would have gotten a good chuckle out of it because he liked to read my stories; he told me so.  I miss him.

I miss knowing he’s there. We all knew he wasn’t getting any younger but he was a literal institution unto himself in our hometown. Anyone who had lived here a good portion of their life had their own Arnold Moore memories and those of us whose family members grew up with him have very special memories indeed.

He knew everyone and he knew their comings and goings, their kith and kin and the joke around town as I was growing up was that he always knew the size casket you would need. The joke never really was funny and it certainly isn’t now but humor is one of the ways people deal with those who see to the end of the life needs and necessities that Arnold did for way over 50 years.

And he was a handsome man right to the end; strong and well-groomed and well-informed on top of it all. I always thought he looked a bit like Omar Sharif. He had that sturdy dependable look about him all the years I remember him and never seemed to really age up until about the time of Richard Kane’s funeral. That’s the first hint that I had that Arnold might indeed be mortal after all when he took a fall outside the church.

Knowing of him since I was just a kid, he always seemed old to me but then when you’re a kid everyone seems old. He finally got to that stage, as I grew up and older myself, when he just seemed ageless with his full head of beautifully coifed white hair and the uniform suit and tie with never a hint of lint anywhere to be seen.

I know there always have been other funeral homes in Bartlesville but when someone died and you got the news before the paper got to your house you always called to confirm if the service would be at Arnold Moore’s. I hesitate to guess how many funerals his business conducted throughout the years but it had to literally be thousands upon thousands.

And the money spent on laminating photos of all types that appeared in the newspaper had to have cost a fortune over time. Every time I was in the paper for any reason, eventually, along came a laminated copy of it and that goes back to my childhood days.  When my kids made the honor roll or earned a scout award or went with their class to chop down a Christmas tree, if it made it into the paper, Arnold laminated it. And it’s these little every day things about him and the services he provided the town which we all we took for granted.

Cathy Benz Sherran shared, When my mother died, we had many family members from out of town after the funeral. We made a buffet out of all the food and as the dishes piled up, Arnold located one of my mother’s aprons, tied it on, followed me into the kitchen and took over the dishwashing, all the while regaling me with intricate family relationships, weaving together families from Bartlesville, Nowata, Tulsa, Borger, Texas, and beyond. His memory for names and personal detail was encyclopedic!”

Rick Lee recalled so many stories of Arnold. He has known my family since time began. He buried my dad’s dad in 1955. He quit boxing, so he told, because my Grandpa Floyd hit him so fast and hard. He always called my mom ‘Pretty Lady.’ When I worked at Doenges I worked on most all his cars both personal and for the funeral home so much that when I attended funerals he always asked me if I wanted to drive. He could remember everyone’s name somehow and never failed to come look me up when he came in Doenges. I don’t think I have ever met anyone who paid such close attention to detail.

Joe Dillsaver commented He grew up with my uncle, Merle Ibach. Apparently he was raised by a single mother. According to Uncle Merle, Arnold had a wagon and when someone had a dog or cat die he would go pick it up and bury it. Homer Stanton, one of his morticians and one of my basketball coaches said he and Arnold’s handy man used to hide in the caskets so Arnold couldn’t find them.

Cindy Wilson Neidig said, What wonderful memories from so many. Arnold did both my grandparents funerals and Daddy’s last year. Arnold attended every funeral. He was at Daddy’s and then Arnold passed away just a couple of days after Daddy’s funeral.

And the neatest story I heard was from Sandy Olson Haberly who said that when she was a little girl, once in a while her family would go to the old Zesto for an ice cream treat and that, periodically, Arnold would be there “visiting” all the cars and would buy ice cream for everyone.

I guess there will always be people in our lives we will never forget and Arnold Moore, for Bartlesville, is one of those people. Tell me you don’t see his face in your mind’s eye every time you drive down Johnstone and stop at the Adams stoplight. I knew I wasn’t the only one.

Carpe Diem and thanks for everything, Arnold.

This week I’ve spoken to several people in the publishing industry and also to a film maker who is interested in producing a documentary based on the book.  All of it is very exciting….

The following excerpt from the manuscript jumps ahead to Chub’s relationship with his first girlfriend in Montana and also mentions Hobo, a horse he had broken and trained while he was working for Oklahoma rancher Pat Scudder. When he jumped bond in 1990 he took Hobo with him, first to Mexico and then to Montana.  During my visit to Alder, Montana I documented this section of the book through interviews with Sherri and Chub’s other friends there, all of whom had no idea who he really was.

“In his free time Chub and Sherri frequently went out riding and hunting in the mountains together. On one occasion they made camp after a long day and were out scouting for camp meat on horseback when Chub spotted fresh elk droppings. He had handed Sherri the reins to Hobo and walked just a few feet when he heard a limb break in the brush straight in front of him. Sherri’s horse started to paw the ground and he shouted for her to jump on Hobo as he unsnapped his 44 magnum off his hip. Hobo had seen it all before- he had been on several bear hunts and Chub had worked his horse around the smell of bears often tying pieces of bear skin on his saddle. Sherri’s horse was reacting like most horses would- the smell of the bear was making him go nuts. Sherri couldn’t hold him and breaking away; he turned and ran back in the direction they had come from. Chub had briefly turned his attention toward Sherri and the runaway horse- when he turned back toward the brush he found a large grizzly bear staring him in the eye from no more than fifty feet away with the bloody leg of an elk held firmly in his mouth. With his pistol out Chub tried to move slowly backwards to Sherri who held Hobo steady and had begun to pull at the ties that held his rifle in the saddle scabbard. Chub’s hopes of getting to his rifle were short lived as the bear dropped his kill and charged. His first two shots did nothing to slow the charge but he kept his aim steady. The third and fourth shots hit something solid; the bear moaned and turned in full retreat. After a couple of more shoots to the bear’s behind Chub knew he could safely check on Sherri and retrieve their runaway horse. He was in no hurry to chase after a wounded bear and he knew it wouldn’t get far. After catching her red roan he followed the blood trail to the spot where the bear had died. It was a massive grizzly, one of the biggest he had ever seen. He would gut and skin this one, hauling it back to Sherri’s where he could properly tan the hide as a gift for his daughter.”

With several good leads for development of this project my work continues. Look for things to happen in the near future along with an announcement followed by some film footage shot in 2008. In the meantime here’s another excerpt I think you will find interesting…

Back in Oklahoma bail bondsmen John Dawson, Charles Sellers and John Van Pelt were getting more heat from the Kansas courts. The men believed that they had caught a big break in the case when an individual known as Chub Anderson was found to be living in Seneca, MO and his description fit Chub’s M.O. The three men wasted no time and headed off from their office in Oklahoma City on the five hour drive to Seneca, calling for law enforcement assistance on the way. They radioed the local sheriff and city police that “Chub Anderson” was considered armed and extremely dangerous and advised them to wait for their arrival before approaching him.

Upon reaching Seneca, they surrounded the home in a stand-off until he was persuaded to surrender quietly. While questioning him, officers found a large quantity of marijuana growing in the backyard and a drug dog located six pounds of pot hidden in the house along with drug paraphernalia and a Mac 10 fully automatic machine gun. Although he didn’t look the same, the bondsmen were sure they had the elusive Chub Anderson, caught with pot and guns as usual. After a phone call the Chautauqua County Sheriff wasn’t so sure, something about the ID didn’t look right. The finger prints and photos he received from the state police confirmed his suspicions – this was someone who needed to be off the streets but he was definitely not Chub. It had been three years and the courts had enough and were threatening to revoke the bonding company’s license if Anderson wasn’t produced. Judge David Casement laid it out to the bondsmen one more time- produce Chub in ten days, pay up the ten thousand or lose your license to do business in Kansas.

This week’s excerpt continues the profile of Chub’s life on the run living under the assumed name of Jack Evert  in Montana. I have drawn from both audio taped and video taped conversations I had with him as well as interviews with people he knew there.

Chub’s first weeks were spent in an older motel on the edge of town- he needed a job and soon he heard about some work in the high country town of Alder which was about forty miles west and straight up. In the spring the area cattlemen band together and lease large portions of government owned land for grazing. They form associations with names like Three Forks, Warm Spring and Black Butt. Together they drive herds of cattle into the mountain valleys and leave them for the summer- usually with just one hired hand watching over them. That man covers a vast area on horseback trying to keep track of hundreds of cattle; doctoring, guarding the calves and generally trying to keep the herd safe from the many hazards of this wide open country.

For Chub the solitude and privacy of the mountains was exactly what he was looking for during his first few summers in Alder and the hard work suited him just fine. There are many dangers for cattle in these mountains including porcupines which are numerous and are especially dangerous for young calves that sniff the slow moving rodents out of curiosity and end up with a nose full of potentially deadly quills. The babies then try to nurse their mothers and end up sticking the quills into their milk bags. The mothers won’t let the babies eat and the next thing you know the cowboy has two sick animals, one of whom weighs at least 1,000 pounds and has to be roped and tied down without the benefit of any pens.  Ranchers were always looking for a widower or hermit-type person and when they found a person with “Jack Evert’s” skills not many questions were asked.

Looking for ways to promote Footprints in the Dew I’ve learned many things one of which is that many writers put excerpts from their projects on their websites. So far I am acting as my own agent and I have decided to follow suit. For the next few weeks I will be posting sections of the book that will give readers a feeling for some of the settings and events I have written about. In this excerpt taken from a chapter entitled On the Run the year is 1990 and Chub has skipped bond on cultivation charges in Kansas and has been gone less than a month:

Ennis is situated in Madison Valley, the southwestern corner of Montana, which is surrounded by three ranges of the Rocky Mountains: the Madison Range, Gravelly Range and the Tobacco Root mountains. People are drawn to the area from all over the world for the beautiful scenery and the outstanding hunting and trout fishing.  Ennis is the biggest community in this part of Montana and on the opening day of hunting season the town puts on an all day feed for the four to five thousand hunters who flock to the town to hunt for elk, mountain goat and deer.  Trout fishing and hunting are the two mainstays of the local economy and the townspeople give their guests the red carpet treatment. This new resident with his love of the outdoors would fit right in but he’d have to be careful.

The town has had its fair share of outlaws seeking a hideout including drug dealers and money launderers as well as the father and son who kidnapped Olympic athlete Kari Swenson and murdered one of her rescuers. In 1985 the local sheriff Johnny France became a legend when he tracked the two down alone and captured them in the mountains. He later wrote a book about his adventure that became a movie. Johnny France was still living in Ennis when Chub moved there. His adventures had made him a local celebrity but he had no way of knowing that one of Kansas’ ten most wanted fugitives would soon be the next bad man taking refuge in the woods of Ennis.

After two tries it’s finally official: Footprints in the Dew is registered with The United States Copyright Office in Washington, D.C. in accordance with title 17 of the United States copyright registration code.

Now the process of finding a major publisher begins and I am looking for a company with the resources to realize the potential that  I believe this story possesses. Books are no easy sell nowadays and the possibility of turning it into a movie is an even longer shot.

With that said, my first challenge is bringing the book to the attention of an audience outside of this region so that more people will be introduced to this true cowboy story which has more angles than I would have ever dreamed. People not only in America but also in Europe love western adventure stories and Footprints in the Dew surely fits the bill.

After five years I guess the easy work is done.

For the past five years I have been on a journey that started quite simply.

On Wednesday July 5, 2006 I was at the Chautauqua County, Kansas courthouse hoping to get an interview with Damon Tucker “Chub” Anderson. Anderson had been on the run for 17 years after skipping bond for a drug bust and he had been on the Kansas Most Wanted List the entire time. He had finally been captured in Montana on June 2^nd and was transferred back to Kansas to face the original charges.

Bill Kurtis from America’s Most Wanted was also in the courtroom with his film crew as were retired Osage County Sheriff George Wyman and Osage County Sheriff Department Investigator Dwight Barnard. There was also a handful of newspaper reporters and a crowd of roughly 75 onlookers some of whom were Chub’s friends and some who merely wanted to get a look at the famous fugitive. I was in the courtroom when he pled guilty to those charges and what followed was the meeting that  began our friendship.

Anderson had been angered by remarks Kurtis had made to him in a closed door meeting and after I was introduced to him in a hallway outside the courtroom he asked if I would like to meet with him again. Of course I wanted to but where would be the question. Earlier in the day he had been sentenced to 1-5 years in prison and it would be a challenge to find out which prison he would sent to. In addition I would have to be approved by the warden of that prison in order to go inside the walls.

As it turned out Anderson’s new “home” was the historic Lansing State Penitentiary and before long he began sending me letters about his life there. Our correspondence lasted about a month until I cleared all the background checks required to visit him. For the rest of his stay at Lansing I saw Chub every weekend conducting the first in a long series of one on one interviews.

Truman Capote had done the same thing in his quest to get the true story from Richard Hickcock and Perry Smith which he recounted in In Cold Blood and I have followed somewhat in his footsteps.

This may sound unusual but after five years I am about to write the final chapter of Footprints in the Dew under the influence of another famous writer, Zane Gray. Gray, who died in 1939, was the author of more than 90 books. 110 films were made from his writings and Dick Powell’s weekly TV series Zane Gray Theater was also based on his books.  Dead now for over 70 years, I am sure many of you may be asking the same question: How does Zane Gray help finish Footprints in the Dew?

Next week I’ll bring you the answer.