Frank Dupre is not remembered in song as a thug, but for a short period of time he tried to be one. He was only eighteen years old the day he committed the horrific crimes we all sing about in Dupree’s Diamond Blues. The State of Georgia hung him a year later. His story is by no means deserving of a folksong. By today’s standards we would not glorify anything about Frank Dupre. Instead, the legacy would belong to the man he killed; Irby Walker, his widow Gladys Walker, and their seven year old daughter Alda. We would also sympathize with Graham West, the bystander who Frank Dupre shot in the face as he fled down Peachtree Street. The community would donate to gofundme platforms to help the Walkers make ends meet and help Mr. West pay out of pocket medical bills.
Instead, during a time when morals were different, when the story of a police manhunt had folks rooting for the bad guy, and when a dysfunctional love story outshined true human tragedy; Frank Dupre earned himself a song. The best that can be said about Frank Dupre is that he never intended to hurt anyone. Yet, he did. He admitted his crimes and accepted his punishment. He paid the ultimate price.
It could also be said that Frank Dupre was a product of the philosophical aphorism, society prepares the crime; the criminal commits it. Were circumstances different, I don’t think Frank Dupre would have dabbled in jewelry store smash and grabs. However, in the 1920’s Atlanta experienced a crime spree attributed to an economic depression. The south did not enjoy the economic boom associated with the country’s mobilization for World War I. If you ever drive down I95 or I76 south of Philadelphia and see the dilapidated ship yards; well, in 1918 those ship yards were booming. Bethlehem steel was shipped to those Philadelphia shipyards where boats were constructed to carry our troops to Europe to finish off the first world war. The south, however, was devastated by the Boll Weevil which decimated cotton production, caused migration to the cities, and oversaturated the urban job market. Charlie Patton’s 1929 Boll Weevil Blues memorializes that plight.
Let's turn back the clock to December of 1921.
1. THE CRIME
Frank Dupre was not born bad. His mother died from Spanish influenza in 1918. He, his father, and brother moved to the Atlanta area in search of work. Frank obtained work at a film company, but was laid off. He described his situation as being “half starved” without any thing to wear. His downfall began the day he met a distant uncle who provided him a hotel room so that he could sleep in a bed. Frank accepted the offer, but over the course of the night he stole $140 from his uncle and snuck away. When that money ran out, Frank robbed a jewelry store (not the one we sing about). He stole two rings; one he sold for $125 and the other for $300 to a local “bootlegger.” The bootlegger suggested to Frank that he could earn a living doing more jewelry store jobs. This sounded better than begging for odd jobs and handouts. With his newly found money, Frank bought a .32 caliber Colt hammerless pistol.
Frank also bought new clothes and rented a room at the Childs Hotel in downtown Atlanta. There in the lobby, he saw a young woman playing piano. He walked up next to her and said, “You sure do play fine.” Her name was Betty Andrews.
Betty was, in 1920’s terms, a “Flapper.” She told Frank that she was a dancer in a racy musical called “Chu Chin Chow.”
This was later proven to be a lie, but to Frank, Betty was a dream. During the week that they knew each other (before the infamous crime), they went on a few dates. As the song says, Betty told Frank that he needed to buy her nice things if he wanted to court her. Frank (paraphrasing) said “name your price”, and Betty told him that she wanted a diamond ring. During the subsequent criminal investigation, the police tried to link Betty as a conspirator and contended that she took Frank to the jewelry store and picked out the ring she wanted him to steal. However, Frank denied this accusation all the way to the gallows.
On the morning of December 15, 1921, Frank Dupre strengthened his nerves with whisky and put on a grey overcoat and newsboy cap (shown in the photo above). In his right pocket, he hid his Colt hammerless pocket pistol. He walked into Kaiser Jewelry store on Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta (shown in the bottom right, note “Kaiser’s” on the clock).
Frank was nervous and told the young clerk that he’d like to buy a diamond ring. The clerk showed Frank some inexpensive rings, but he told her he wanted to see the one in the window: a 3.25 karat $2,500 ring ($30,000 today). The clerk asked the boss to handle this one. The boss held the ring and showed it to Frank. Then, Frank said “I’ll take it,” grabbed it out of the owner's hands, and darted for the door.
Kaiser's, however, retained the Pinkerton security guard and detective agency to staff a plain clothed guard on premises. That day, twenty-nine year old Irby Walker was assigned to Kaisers. He positioned himself by the door as Frank drew suspicion to himself. When Frank tried to run, Irby pushed him down to apprehend him. Frank then drew his pistol and shot Irby twice. Irby cried for medical help, but shortly died in the arms of a store clerk. Irby left behind his widow Gladys and their seven year old daughter.
Irby C. Walker
Gladys Walker
Frank ran down Peachtree Street. A bystander, Graham West, tried to stop the fleeing murderer. Frank shot him in the face.
Frank ran back to the Childs Hotel and told Betty what he did. He then ran off to find the “bootlegger” to see if he could pawn the ring for some quick getaway cash. The bootlegger told Frank “That sure took some guts kid,” but he knew the ring was too hot to sell in Atlanta. The bootlegger knew a pawn shop broker in Chatanooga who might be interested and set Frank up with a driver to take him there overnight for $90. The driver worked for a taxi company and swiped the keys to a Packard Twin Six.
Frank was on his way out of town.
Upon arrival in Chatanooga, the pawn broker only offered Frank $400 for the ring. That was all the cash he had on hand. To sweeten the deal, the pawnbroker gave Frank a ticket voucher that could be redeemed for another $200 if Frank decided he did not want to purchase the ring back. Frank gave the driver his $90 and headed to the train station to make his way to Norfolk, VA (a place he lived when he joined the military for a brief stint). Frank Dupre was now a fugitive.
2. THE MANHUNT
The getaway driver’s employer reported to the Atlanta police that the Packard cab had been stolen. However, the employer called off the report when the driver returned in the morning with the Packard. The driver told his boss that he took a customer to Chatanooga. The police, however, were suspicious. A murderer had escaped downtown Atlanta and taxi company advised that they took a passenger to Tennessee overnight. The driver cracked. He told the police everything. When the police searched the Packard, they found a .32 caliber Colt pistol stuffed behind the seat. It was not long before the police were at the pawn shop’s doorstep in Tennessee.
Did I mention that Frank was not smart? Well, he wasn’t. It is not comical though because as we will see shortly that his low intelligence resulted in his death sentence through a violation of his constitutional rights. However, whether lovesick or dumb, Frank sent a telegram to the getaway driver. The telegram included $40 wire for Betty Andrews and instructions for her to board a train for Norfolk. The police intercepted it and got a hold of Betty. A few days later, Frank wrote a letter to Betty the substance of which discussed his crimes. Betty gave the letter to the police.
The murder of Irby Walker and the Kaiser Jewelry Store robbery were front page news in Atlanta. The press was very critical of the Atlanta police for just about everything; especially letting the murderer get away. The press called the murderer “The Peachtree Bandit” and published story after story bringing attention to the manhunt.
Dupre caught on that the police had gotten to Betty and were now searching for him in Norfolk. He escaped to Detroit (perhaps because it was near Canada?). When he got to Detroit he searched out the Atlanta newspapers and saw that the press was all over his story. Empowered, Frank wrote a letter to the Atlanta press. This is not the first or last time a criminal on the loose taunted law enforcement. In 1877, Charles Bolton, a.k.a Black Bart, wrote a poem to law enforcement after a stagecoach hold up: “I’ve labored long and hard for bread, for honor, and for riches. But on my corns too long you’ve tread, you fine haired sons of bitches.”
Black Bart
Jack the Ripper also taunted police. So to did the Zodiac Killer and Son of Sam. Unfortunately for Dupre, his letter would also be fodder to support his death sentence. Dupre said “I would like to say that I think Atlanta has a bunch of boneheads for detectives.” He also tried to exonerate the driver and the bootlegger. However, he did not apologize for killing Irby Walker. Dupre signed his letter “The Peachtree Bandit.” Clearly, Dupre was caught up in the buzz.
Atlanta was also caught up in the buzz. The love story between Dupre and Betty gained attention. However, Betty’s game was exposed. She was not an actress in a touring musical. She was just an unruly young girl who liked to drink, dance, and sleep around. The press hounded her. She denied any wrongdoing, denied that she loved Dupre, and denied asking for a diamond ring. Nonetheless, Bettymania gripped the Atlanta tabloids.
Back to the hunt for Dupre. Remember the $200 pawn voucher that the Chatanooga broker gave Dupre? Well, he tried to cash it in. He sent it to the pawn shop with instructions to wire the money to a location in Detroit. The broker informed the police, the police set up a sting, and Dupre was nabbed. In custody, Dupre confessed everything. He even asked the Detroit police if Georgia used the chair or the rope. It wasn't long before the Atlanta Sheriff escorted Dupre back to Fulton County where he would stand trial for the murder of Irby Walker
3. THE TRIAL
The Atlanta District Attorney announced he would seek the death penalty in the case of Frank Dupre. Given Dupre’s multiple confessions, his attorney really had no viable defense. The defense lawyer's only hope was to beat a murder charge by proving that Dupre only resorted to deadly force because Irby Walker used deadly force to stop him; which he did not.
Dupre still talked to reporters. He asked for forgiveness and mercy because he was young, dumb, and drunk. Dupre made multiple public pleas for mercy and it struck up a movement to save him. After all, Frank Dupre was a young white man in Georgia. Betty Andrews, caught up in the excitement, changed her tune and gave interviews professing her love for Dupre and even said she would marry him if he beat the murder rap.
Under Georgia law as it existed in 1921, the crime of murder did not require premeditation. If found guilty, death was the penalty. However, the jury or the judge could grant mercy in their discretion. Georgia also had a law which prohibited an accused criminal from testifying under oath in their own trial. The theory being they would simply lie to save their neck. However, the law permitted a criminal defendant to “speak” to the jury. In this process, the defendant's lawyer was not permitted to ask questions or help guide his client. Likewise, the prosecution was not permitted to question the accused. Many years later, this law was declared unconstitutional by the United States Supreme Court. The high court deemed it a violation of due process to permit uneducated people to speak directly to the jury without the assistance of counsel.
This was Frank’s only chance to tug at the heart strings of the jury that was about to deliberate on his life. Frank’s speech (as it is not considered testimony), was a prime example of why this law was unconstitutional. Frank’s only hope was to heartfully apologize to Gladys Walker who was present in the courtroom. He needed to ask for her forgiveness and that of her daughter. He needed to ask the jury for mercy and to express remorse for his crime. However, he did none of the above. Instead, Frank Dupre recounted the events of his crime and even seemed to brag a little. The jury’s verdict was unanimous; guilty of murder and no mercy recommended. The judge addressed Dupre; “Let the defendant stand up. It is the Order of this court that you be hanged by the neck until you are dead on the tenth day of March 1922 by the sheriff of Fulton County in the common jail between the hours of 10am and 3pm. God have mercy on your soul.”
The movement to save Dupre ramped up. Preachers visited the jail and petitions flooded the court and governor's office. Here is where “Dupre’s Diamond Blues” crosses with another song, Ramble on Rose. Preacher Billy Sunday (“Just like Billy Sunday …”), wrote the governor and asked for mercy for Dupre.
Billy Sunday
However, the efforts were to no avail. Dupre lost his appeal to the Georgia Supreme Court. The governor also denied Dupre's request to commute his sentence to life in prison. The governor explained that Dupre's crime was horrible. Not only did he kill a man, but he shot a man in the face while trying to get away. Dupre bragged about his crime and taunted law enforcement calling them “boneheads.” The governor said Dupre showed no remorse until he was caught. Lastly, the governor acknowledged the community outcry, the petitions, the preachers' pleas, but said that would all be best directed to support Gladys Walker and her orphaned daughter.
4. THE EXECUTION
On September 1, 1922, Frank Dupre was held at the Fulton County jail. The gallows were constructed on the top of the building below the bell tower.
A crowd had gathered outside the jail. Coincidentally, Betty Andrews was also being held in the jail for unrelated reasons. Betty’s problems stemmed from being unruly and being placed in the custody of the state. Back then, the state could hold a young unruly woman in detention for her own good.
The one person who was at Frank Dupre’s side during the trial, during appeals, and on the day of his death was his father, Frank Dupre Sr. Frank Sr. cried when the sentence was handed down. He knew Frank was not a monster, but just a child who did not deserve to be killed. He brought Frank his last meal, ham, eggs, toast, potatoes, and coffee. Frank Jr. just picked at it. After prayers, Frank Sr. said “I can’t stand it” and hugged his son through the bars. He told Frank Jr. to be brave. He left in tears and turned and said “I’ll see you sometime.”
To get to the rooftop, Frank Dupre had to ride the jail’s open door elevator. In doing so, he passed by the floor where Betty Andrews was detained. The warden allowed Betty to stand in front of the elevator to see Frank as he ascended to the roof. Frank, in shackles, gave Betty a wave and said “I’ll see you in heaven.” Betty cried inconsolably.
Frank Dupre was hanged at 1:50 pm on September 1, 1922. Frank's father died three years later. They are buried together in a grave next to Frank's mother in Abbeville, SC.
5. THE LEGACY
Having read the true story of Frank Dupre in Tom Hughes' book “Hanging the Peachtree Bandit” I was a little bit concerned that Dupree's Diamond Blues was ruined. How could we (ZenDog) sing a song that glorified the events that resulted in the death of a young man (a husband and father) who was just doing his job to earn extra money during the Christmas season?
However, Garcia and Hunter left ambiguities in the lyrics to soften the tragedy. We don't know if our Dupree killed the "jewelry man", all we know is that ”Dupree said I think Ill pay this one off to you in lead." Perhaps our Dupree just threatened the "jewelry man". Consequently, our Dupree certainly does not kill Irby Walker. Likewise, we don't really know if the judge sentenced our Dupree to death or life in prison. All we know is that the judge told our Dupree “Fact, it's going to cost you your life.” The real story of Frank Dupre is tragic. The song, Dupree's Diamond Blues however, has evolved over the years into a jovial tale that is disconnected with the historical truth.
If you read Hanging the Peachtree Bandit, you may agree with me that Frank Dupree should not have been hanged. He never intended to kill anyone. He did express remorse for his crimes over and over. Although, he failed to do it at the critical time as a result of an unconstitutional law. In fact, Frank told reporters that he wanted to live so that he could dedicate every waking hour to helping Gladys Walker and her daughter. In all of the accounts of interviews, Frank Dupre never spoke with malice. He seemed aloof of the gravity of his situation and all of his ticks (the smiling in court, fidgiting, etc.) seemed to be a product of an incredibly scared teenager. In fact, a court ordered psychologist assessing his competency deemed him to be a “high grade idiot.” Frank never denied his crimes and accepted his punishment ("Well you know judge that seems to me to sound about right.") However, Frank's case was political. In fact, the Ku Klux Klan was involved in trying to persuade the governor not to hang a white man. Also, Frank shot and killed a law enforcement officer. The governor had a difficult decision.
We can enjoy Dupree's Diamond Blues, just remember the legacy is dedicated to Irby Walker and his family.
Dupre as a folk legend began in 1925 when Blind Andy Jenkins recorded “The Fate of Frank Dupree.” In 1931, Kingfish Bill Tomlin recorded “Dupree Blues”. In 1958, Chuck Willis recorded “Betty and Dupre.” ZenDog performed “Dupree's Diamond Blues” a bunch of times. None of the song versions tells the story accurately. But after all, that's folk music.
6. EPILOGUE: BETTY
Betty Andrews was actually born Margaret “Peggy” Guest in 1903. As noted she was an unruly child and her parents did not want her at home. Her unruliness landed her in jail, but not for having committed any crime. It was in one of these detentions, that a reverend helped her get on her feet.
In 1932, Betty resumed using her real name and moved to Hot Springs, Arkansas. She married a military man named Maurice Blaustein. She had no children, but she and her husband raised a foster child. The "Betty Andrews" we sing about died with Frank Dupre in September of 1922. The real Margaret Blaustein died in 1972. I'm sure her past life as “Betty” haunted her all of her days.
