My mother is the only woman ever to escape from the Sarasota County Jail. WHAT!! It naturally leads to the question: "What was your ma doing in jail in the first place?"
In 1953, she walked out of her Hyde Park home in Chicago-leaving behind a husband, six kids, and a life that had grown too small-and stepped straight into a coast-to-coast crime spree. Flo Baran and Bill Gaskell weren't Bonnie and Clyde, but they weren't exactly knitting sweaters either. They lived on guile, guts, and a gun, improvising their way across America like two people convinced the rules no longer applied to them. She was behind the wheel of the getaway car, tires screaming, heart pounding, doing everything she could to outrun the law and the life she'd just blown up. This tale includes not one but two dramatic arrests involving the FBI. The first time, agents cornered Flo and arrested her at home. The second time-well, you'll have to read about it. But every wild ride ends somewhere, and theirs came to a surprising halt in a cool Miami motel. This memoir, written in an easy, conversational style, traces the life and times of my ma-the Housewife-and her fling with the pistol-packing Bandit. It spans from 1901, when my grandparents began their long journey from Poland, all the way through 2006, when the last of that generation passed on. Along the way, you'll find family photographs and bios, Florida newspaper clippings, official quotes from the FBI and law enforcement in Florida and Alabama, and even World War II Navy documents. All of it is seasoned with the humor and well-intentioned sarcasm. Historical and local events weave through the narrative, giving context to what was happening in the world while these two were out there doing their thing. On a bright, sunny day in 1954, I stood on the sidewalk and watched FBI agents drag my mother away. I didn't understand why then. I understand it now. Her true story-bold and unforgettable-is finally ready to be told.