Chicken Pilfering Leads To Perils With Law

If only Flossie Dickey had kept her darned ole mouth shut, things would have turned out far better for Rollin Slate. The real source of trouble for Rollin wasn’t really Flossie’s loose lips but rather his unlawful gathering of 30 chickens that belonged to J.V. Smith and an additional 10 owned by C.H. Clark. However, Rollin still blamed Flossie for giving the sordid details of the theft of those chickens to McDonald County Sheriff R.L. Vansandt.

In 1935, folks living in the Southwest Missouri Ozark area of Missouri considered the theft of chickens serious business, and the chicken thieves were thought to be the lowest forms of humanity. Those chickens weren’t family pets or raised because hard-working farmers were putting on airs. Those fowl laid eggs which were scrambled and fried early in the mornings and the de-feathered birds were cooked and eaten on Sunday afternoons after church services.

Sheriff Vansandt tracked Slate to a house in the nearby town of Joplin and arrested that chicken stealing son-of-a-gun. Dickey was already cooling her heels in the county jail located in Pineville and the sheriff wasted little time reuniting the two as the cell door fell shut on Rollin.

Slate was soon transported to Erie where he was brought before Justice Jack Ramsey. After learning of the evidence against the man, particularly the damning words spoken by Flossie, Justice Ramsey ordered the lower-than-dirt chicken rustler held over for trial in the circuit court. If Rollin wanted to see the free light of day, someone would have to post his bail of $1,000.00, a tidy sum back then.

In 1935, thirty-year-old John Fee found himself locked up in the McDonald County jail. John, like many scoundrels, had a specialty. He liked to steal chickens. Fee’s current predicament in Missouri wasn’t his only problem, as also standing in the way of his freedom were warrants for his arrest issued in the nearby states of Arkansas and Oklahoma — warrants also charging the man with stealing chickens.

For a time in November of 1935, Fee and fellow inmate Glen McWorther were the only prisoners cooling their heels in the jail. The two developed a friendship born of convenience and began talking about freeing themselves from their involuntary detention. So, the two initiated a plan inspired by the thoughts and words of Fee.

Using an old stove poker, Fee fashioned a crude tool that would be used to facilitate the jailbreak. Fee pried metal from the sheet-iron ceiling and entered the building’s attic. Once in the attic, the inmate crawled to a spot that he believed he could use to his benefit. Using sheets tied one-to-another and end-to-end, Fee lowered himself down to a barrel in the building’s vestibule.

All was going well for Fee but as it turned out he had been less than subtle in his removal of the metal in the ceiling. It turned out that while scraping the metal over the period of several days he made so much noise that the suspicious sounds caught the attention of McDonald County lawman Dick Lassiter.

Born with a naturally suspicious nature, Lassiter tried to put himself in Fee’s shoes. If he was to break out of the jail, when would be the best time? The answer seemed to be so very clear and obvious, Sunday afternoon.

“In 1935, folks living in the Southwest Missouri Ozark area of Missouri considered the theft of chickens serious business, and the chicken thieves were thought to be the lowest forms of humanity. Those chickens weren’t family pets or raised because hard-working farmers were putting on airs.”

Acting on his logic and intuition, Lassiter positioned himself just outside the jail on Sunday afternoon. The lawman waited only a short time, maybe 30 or so minutes when some movement caught his attention. That movement was Fee running from the jail. “Stop or I’ll shoot,” were all the words needed to cause Fee to stop dead in his tracks. The jail-breaker and chicken thief was quickly returned to his cell. As it turned out, McWorther had thought better of trying to leave his confinement.

In April of 1935, D.M. Nichols of Jane was robbed of nine healthy, and in their prime, chickens. The abducted fowl were taken on a dark Sunday night and all nine birds were later sold at auction in Stella.

Some top-notch police work came into play and the birds were recovered by officers of the McDonald County Sheriff’s Department. It didn’t take long to identify the thief as he was the person bringing the chickens to the auction. His name was Bill Burkes.

Mr. Burkes was well known to deputies, and they knew where he lived. Deputies went to Burkes’ house located near Pineville on Grannies Branch. The deputies had been looking for Burkes for some time as he was an escapee from the state penitentiary. Somehow Burkes learned of the deputy’s presence and, while dodging a few bullets, he fled into the dark of night. It was thought that no bullets struck the chicken thief.

McDonald County Deputy Sheriff Clay Parker and Noel City Marshall Floyd Fine were looking for the fellow, or fellows who stole nineteen chickens belonging to Jesse Holler. Holler, who lived near the community of Star, reported the theft in April of 1936.

Some fine detective work resulted in the apprehension of a young man, Floyd Armstrong. Armstrong was questioned about the theft and his possible involvement. As luck would have it, Armstrong acknowledged that he stole the chickens and said he deeply regretted his lawless act.

Armstrong said he was solely responsible for removing the animals from Mr. Holler’s property but, to be completely truthful, he did want to add something of importance to that night’s scenario. He said that, after taking possession of the fowl, he asked a friend to transport him and the chickens to Southwest City.

The chickens were later sold there, and under what many thought were suspicious circumstances. It was the questions raised regarding the sale of the birds that led to Armstrong’s arrest. Marshal Fine later questioned the person named by Armstrong but, after being satisfied that he was unaware of the theft itself, the marshal did not arrest him.

He did however impart a stern warning: “I say, by God, you better do a better job of picking your friends.” “Yes sir.”

Back in the so-called good old days, say the 1930s, not all the chicken bandits were caught. Let’s face it, even if the chickens were to be found, they were of little help when it came to identifying their kidnappers.

In May of 1935, Charley King, who lived on Buffalo Creek, reported the theft of 70 White Leghorn hens. Some 35 chickens, mostly Plymouth Rocks, were stolen from Day Burks of Erie around the same time. It was often thought that the thefts were well-coordinated by gangs of disreputable scoundrels — chicken pilfering gangs.

I would tell you about another fellow who pilfered several chickens, but he also helped himself to a farmer’s hog. Therefore, that will have to be another story. And, if memory serves, I believe it’s titled, “The Hazards of Hijacking Hogs.”

— Stan Fine is a retired police officer and Verizon Security Department investigator who, after retiring in 2006, moved from Tampa, Fla., to Noel. Stan’s connection to Noel can be traced back to his grandparents who lived most of their lives there. Stan began writing after the passing of his wife Robin in 2013. The opinions expressed are those of the author.