THE MAN WHO DANCED ACROSS ROUTE 66

The dapper Mr Walker.

Travellers on Route 66 in the early 1960s might have been surprised to see a middle-aged man in a white suit and broad-brimmed hat bobbing and weaving along the road. That man was Lewis Larrimore Walker and, despite the incongruity of his surname, he was dancing across the United States.

Lewis Walker and his twin Lois were born in Childress, Texas, in 1909, to cotton farmers Lee and Lillie Walker. Yes, Lewis and Lois. The Walkers had an interesting approach to names; the twins had an older brother by the unusual name of Akard, another brother called Bernice and a younger sister who was christened Billy…

Lillie Pearl and Lee Walker. Larry said he learned to dance in his father’s cotton fields.

By early 1930 Lewis was working in the oilfields, along with another brother, Rudolph, but it was not a profession that suited him and a few months later he was working in Kitty O’Connor’s Dance Studio (‘above Panhandle Paint and Wallpaper Co’). That didn’t last long and in October 1930 he opened the Lewis Walker Dancing School at the Hilton Hotel in Lubbock, Texas. He would later say that he learned to dance from the black workers in his father’s cotton fields.

There was little scope for men to take dancing classes at Lubbock High School, so Lewis turned to sports. Here he is part of the Bi-District Basketball Championship team in 1928.

Lewis ran a tight ship. In early 1931 he took out newspaper adverts which listed the ten rules to observed in his dancing school that included ‘This is a dancing school, not a loafing school. There are other places more suited to loafing.’ (#4) and ‘Don’t talk crude. This doesn’t help you or anyone else’ (#6).

This was the Great Depression and dancing lessons might have seemed very low on many people’s priorities, but Lewis would trade cakes and pies for classes and often offered free lessons. In 1935 he changed the name to the Larrymore School of the Dance and then the Larrymore School of Fine Arts. He had hated his middle name as a child but adopted it for his business, although, with typical Walker disregard for convention he spelled it with a ‘Y’ rather than as the ‘Larrimore’ with which he and Lois had been born.

That dance studio would move around a bit – Lewis once said that it had had an address “on every street [in Lubbock] from 8th to 25th” – and he also opened studios in Ruidoso and Carlsbad, New Mexico. However, business was paused when Lewis went off to serve his country in 1943. He flew as a glider pilot and then as a gunner on a B-17 in the 8th Air Force, flying 35 missions and being awarded the Air Medal with five clusters. He spent his last months of service at South Plains Army Airfield as a non-commissioned officer in charge of special services on the airfield.

Lewis was discharged on September 30, 1945, after serving 3 years and 9 months; he immediately returned to Lubbock to build a new dance studio. That would grow to three locations in Lubbock in the 1950s with some of his pupils the children of those he had originally taught. (Lewis liked teaching children and teenagers because they were more difficult to train and he liked the challenge.) He never married, although he had been engaged to Nancy Faver, one of his students, in 1933, but that came to an end when she married someone else.

Then in January 1962, he announced the closure of the Larrymore Dance Studio. He moved to Hollywood but then came his next venture – he would dance across America. (He claimed it was to settle a bet made 31 years previously with his friend Harold Gore.)

His penchant for long distance dancing had began early. In 1931 he danced from Lubbock to Slaton, Texas, and back again in a day, a distance of around 35 miles, accompanied by a piano and a phonograph on a decorated truck.

Lewis being partnered in July 1962 by Elaine Dunn who was then starring in ‘Bye Bye Birdie’ at the Hotel Riviera in Las Vegas.

It appears that the cross-country dance started with the intention of a continuous trip, but – probably to the relief of his feet – he soon decided it would be completed in stages. (He had thought he would manage 35 miles a day but the terrain and his age quickly caught up with him and across California he averaged little more than 10 miles a day.) So, on May 2, 1962, he dipped a toe in the Pacific Ocean in California and, with a foam dummy as a dancing partner, headed east. At first he was accompanied by a transistor radio to supply music to which he would do a tango or a waltz, along with a driver and car, although during school holidays his teacher nephew, Robert Vaughn, would join him, driving a motor home.

By July he had danced across the Mojave (getting lost on occasion) and was approaching Las Vegas but it appears that the trip stalled at that point. It resumed at the beginning of the following year: he danced through Seligman, Arizona, spotting a mountain lion, and then had a close encounter with a Hereford bull in Ash Fork. In January 1963, Lewis danced into Two Guns, Arizona, where he was greeted by Fern Rawlinson, the then owner of the trading post, to whom he gave a dancing lesson before moving onto the Hopi House and then to Winslow.

Fern Rawlinson greets Lewis at Two Guns, Arizona, in January 1963.

And so he danced on, through Grants and Albuquerque and across the Texas and Oklahoma Panhandles By July he was in Kansas with plans to reach New York by the fall. Did he? Alas, I can’t tell you that. I could find no further reports of the ‘Dancing Texan’ after Kansas and if he did complete the trip, then it seems to have gone unreported. However, Lewis’s mother, Lillie, died in August 1963 and it could be that that brought a premature end to the challenge, but I would like to think that Lewis did indeed dance all the way to the east coast!

In a posed publicity shot.

A SENSELESS MURDER IN CANUTE

It was a warm day in Washita County, Oklahoma, and, in a field just east of the Canute cemetery, a 13-year-old boy called Clifford Kirk was picking cotton on the Xavier Meiers farm, along with his father and brother, Martin. Between the stalks Clifford made the odd discovery of a shoe and a Continental Oil Company hat and told his brother to take a look around. Minutes later, Clifford made a discovery that would haunt him for years; it was the decomposing body of a badly beaten man. By the time that the police arrived, the teenager was so hysterical that he had to be taken to hospital in Elk City.

The man had clearly been dead for a little while; he had a broken leg and had suffered cuts and blows to his head. Thanks to a chauffeur’s badge on him he was quickly identified as George Thomas Goodwin, the son of WH Goodwin who lived in Cement, around a hundred miles south-east of Canute. But what also swiftly came to light was horrifying for there had been several missed chances to save George’s life.

The first had been around midnight on Thursday, October 7, 1939. It was then that a Canute farmer called Henry Spieker had spotted a truck, laden with peaches, parked on the side of the road. When it was still there the next day he reported it to the police who towed it away on Sunday. It appears they didn’t investigate further or they might have found the badly injured George some 30 cotton rows into the field beside the truck. According to evidence at the scene and a later post-mortem, it seems that George lived for as long as three or four days in the cotton field, unable to get to the road or to summon help. Later, someone happened to mention that they’d seen a man sitting in the cotton field on Sunday afternoon but had done nothing…

That George had been the victim of foul play was beyond doubt. Afte having supper with his father and family he had left Cement at 8pm on Thursday night with $46 in his pocket; all but a couple of dollars was now missing. His brother-in-law, Claude Underwood, who travelled from Cement to identify the body surmised that George might have picked up a hitchhiker – being a kind-hearted man, he said, that was just the sort of thing he did. George was driving back to San Jon, New Mexico, where he had lived for five years with his second wife Lilly and their three children, William Thomas (13), Pauline Fay (11) and Kathryn (8), and would have appreciated the company.

Eunice Earl Daniel posing for a mug shot.

But despite a couple of initial arrests, the trail went cold. Then in April of the following year three young men were arrested in a stolen car after a short chase in Altus, south of Canute. Driving was Eunice Earl Daniel, 20, and with him were his 16-year-old brother Jesse and 17-year-old Albert Jackson ‘Jack’ Ray. The police believed that they were part of a hijacking ring responsible for both automobile thefts and robbing motorists and they were right on that count. Jesse Daniels and Jack Ray admitted to six recent car thefts in Oklahoma and were imprisoned in the Granite state reformatory for those, but, somewhat to the surprise of officers, Daniel then confessed to murdering George Goodwin. He quickly changed this to the murder having been done by an accomplice called Monroe Sprawling – it seems that police didn’t put any credence in this story and no Monroe Sprawling was ever traced – before dropping hints that Jack Ray was involved. Finally, he decided to recant and, when charged, pleaded not guilty.

Daniel looks a little less certain after his arrest.

 Under questioning, Jack Ray admitted to the murder too. Having stolen a car in Dallas and then robbed a pawn shop of a gun, the three found themselves in El Reno. Unfortunately for George, the truck driver was at a filling station at the same time. Seeing George pay from a wad of bills, Jack Ray persuaded George to give him a lift when the Daniels brothers followed in the stolen car. A few miles later, Daniel’s car forced George off the highway and the trio demanded that he give them his money. When George refused, Daniel shot him and Ray hit him over the head before taking the gun and also shooting him. They then carried the wounded George into the cotton field where they left him, driving on to Elk City.

Although badly hurt from being shot in the leg and beaten over the head with the gun (part of the handle was found near him) and a wrench, it’s likely that George Goodwin might well have survived had he been found in time. Instead, he spent his final days alone in a cotton field, just yards from rescue.

Jack Ray pled guilty to the charge of murder and was sentenced to life in prison in McAlester Penitentiary to where he was transferred after completing his term for auto theft. In 1958 he was granted parole but while on parole he committed a bank robbery for which he served a term of imprisonment in the United States Penitentiary at Leavenworth, Kansas. Because of violation of his parole he was ultimately returned to the custody of the State of Oklahoma where he remained until 1977. He died on January 9, 1988, and was buried in an unmarked grave.

During his imprisonment Jack Ray confessed to four other murders, but all the confessions were hoaxes.

Eunice Daniel changed his plea to guilty before his trial began and, despite his lawyer claiming all the usual excuses of a terrible childhood (the Daniel family were no strangers to the law; by now his older brother Parnell was serving a ten-year sentence), he too received a life term. Curiously, although he was certainly inside McAlester in 1950, Daniel doesn’t feature in the historical Oklahoma prison records. It’s likely he was released around the same time as Jack Ray and he died in 1978. He too lies in an unmarked grave in the Union Cemetery in Bakersfield, California. As this is where unclaimed prisoners and inmates from local jails and state prisons are buried, it seems that he may have continued on a path of crime.

The little Goodwin family was destroyed by the tragedy. Unable to cope, Lilly Goodwin surrendered her three children to the Masonic Children’s Home, an orphanage in Guthrie, Oklahoma. It was a senseless crime with so many ramifications.                                                                                                                                       

The Masonic Children’s Home where George Goodwin’s children would grow up,