Oct. 22, 1934: Ellen Conkle was alone in her isolated farmhouse when she heard a knock at the door. Ellen was a 41-year-old widow who lived in a rural section of Ohio, about 40 miles northwest of Pittsburgh. She was unaware that a man described as a desperate and dangerous criminal had been spotted in the area.
So Ellen answered the door. Standing before her was a disheveled man, about 30 years old, wearing a blue suit covered in thistles. He wore scuffed black oxfords and needed a shave.
“I’m starving lady,” the young man said. “Can’t you help me out with some food?”
At first, the man said he had been hunting squirrels the night before and had gotten lost, but Ellen knew that was a lie. No one hunted squirrels at night, especially not in a business suit. Then the man admitted he’d been drunk.
Ellen thought the man had a wild look about him. He wasn’t wearing a hat — what kind of man didn’t wear a hat? Still, Ellen felt she couldn’t refuse the man some food.
What would you like? she asked.
Meat, the man replied. All he’d been eating was apples, he said. He had a few in his pockets.
Ellen noticed bulges under the man’s jacket and suspected he might be carrying guns. This made her a bit nervous. She wished her brother Stewart would arrive at the house. In the kitchen, Ellen prepared a meal while the man sat on her porch and read the Sunday newspaper.
Ellen served the man spare ribs, rice, pumpkin pie and coffee.
A meal fit for a king, the man said. He offered to pay but Ellen refused. Then he pulled out a large roll of bills. Ellen accepted a dollar.
The man said he needed a ride to either Youngstown or a bus station. Ellen said she couldn’t take him, but perhaps her brother Stewart could do the favor once he arrived. So the man climbed into Stewart’s Model A Ford, parked in front of the house. There he waited.
Finally Stewart arrived. Ellen was relieved. Stewart agreed to give the man a ride. As the two men prepared to pull out onto the road, two carloads of lawmen arrived.
The man jumped from Stewart’s vehicle and ran.
Inside the farmhouse, Ellen heard gunshots.
Lawmen carried the young man back into Ellen’s house and placed him on a living room couch. The young man’s body was riddled with bullet holes. His clothes were soaked with blood. “Get a doctor, get a doctor,” someone yelled.
But it was too late for Charles Arthur “Pretty Boy” Floyd, Public Enemy No. 1. At 4:25, he died.
Floyd is buried in Sequoyah County, Oklahoma. Buildings on the Conkle farm were destroyed by two different fires in the 1950s and 60s.
I have a one of a kind picture of preety boy Floyd.it is authentic.it is from the files of the FBI.and it is for sale still in its original frame.
Im from Adairsville Georgia and Charles childhood home is in my neighborhood. Its a nice smaller home but for some reason its stayed empty for the last 20 years. I wish the owner trying to sale it hadn’t put vinyl siding on it . It takes away from the charm of the little house.
I’m actually related to Pretty Boy Floyd he was a hero to many in the depression saving their homes if only history depicted the man he truly was.
How are you related? I was told by my great uncle Pretty Boy was his great uncle
My Grandfather who at the time of the of Floyd’s funeral lived in Westville ,Oklahoma. He and my Father a boy of 7 made the trip from Westville to Akins, on Oklahoma Hwy 59 to attend the funeral.While there at some time before, during, or after the service my Grandfather picked up a flat stone roughly 3″X 3″ from the grave- site and carved the date of the funeral and Akins, Ok. on the stone. As far back as I can remember that stone was in his roll top desk. I am writing this on that roll top desk looking at that stone in a glass case advertising JP Priwley’s California Fruit and Pepsin Chewing Gum which came from his Father’s store in Rocky Comfort,Mo.I am 66 years old.That stone has been around a long time.
I am also related to Pretty Boy Floyd. He is my second cousin as he was my dads first cousin. They were all from the north Florida/South Georgia area. He actually was very much like Robin Hood as he did help many poor, needy people pay their mortgages and/or buy groceries and clothes.
This young man is my 7th cousin, 4 times removed. My aunt always said we have a lot of in-laws and just as many outlaws. Since working on my family tree I found Pretty boy and Butch Cassidy as family. Now all the stories I heard growing up make sense. LOL.
Okay, I get it…there is some good in all of us, but Floyd was a cold blooded killer. The depression turned many a man bad and 1934 seemed to be the end for the worst of them: Dillinger, Nelson, Floyd, Bonnie and Clyde…they died as they lived. Sadly, they took a lot of innocent people with them. The media made them all out to be Robin Hoods but mostly, they were just hoods. They all lived fast and died young, most didn’t even make it to their thirties. And yet, we speak of the still. Maybe that’s all they ever wanted from life.
My grandfather, Harry Urval Majors, was arrested in Massillon, Ohio as they thought he was Pretty Boy Floyd in the 1930’s. He and my grandmother were shopping in downtown Massillon at the time. They lived in Canton, which neighbors Massillon. Apparently, Pretty Boy Floyd has just robbed a bank when he was arrested. They actually took him in and arrested him. With my grandmother’s help, he was cleared. I have many photos of my grandfather, and the resemblance is amazing.