July 12, 2025 • 9 mins
Dive into the gripping narrative of Thieves Like Us, also known as Your Red Wagon. Set against the backdrop of the Great Depression, it tells the story of Bowie Bowers, a young prison escapee who, along with two accomplices, sets his sights on a daring bank heist. As plans unravel, Bowie finds himself entangled in a passionate love affair with Keechie, a relative of one of his partners in crime. This classic noir tale of doomed lovers on the run has been immortalized in film not once, but twice. Originally by Nicholas Ray in 1940s They Live By Night and later by Robert Altman in 1973s rendition of Thieves Like Us. Join us as we delve into this captivating tale. - Synopsis by Ben Tucker
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter sixteen of Thieves Like Us by Edward Anderson. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Ben Tucker,
Chapter sixteen. There was one hundred dollars worth of bright
colored blankets on the big red bed and the cock
now a radio that was as big as the fireplace
in the living room, two automatic shotguns and a rifle
(00:23):
on the mantle, and Keechee had a cigarette case with
a diamond in it. They'd done a lot in four weeks.
Old filthy never did snoop around any more, and just
once somebody'd come missus Philpott, the salesman's wife, to borrow
some sugar out here. They never did see anybody except
that little Philpot boy Alvin, And then he was away
(00:43):
down in the woods back of their place with a
twenty two rifle in that spitz dog of his spots.
Bowie sat in front of the radio this evening, smoking
the curved stem pipe that Kee Chee liked, and thought
how everything was looking pretty good in that food pack kitchen, Kichee.
He was frying Irish potatoes the way he liked him,
crisp and brown. I don't care nothing about it myself,
(01:06):
Bowie thought, But we can start taking in some picture
shows down there in that town pretty soon. Girls like
to get out and go places. And that law down there,
I got him spotted, and he ain't never going to
get close to me. In the darkened living room, the
flames of the fireplace logs splashed on the ceilings and walls.
Had he brought in the wood tonight? Yes? What time
(01:28):
was it? Seven point thirty? Christ that Mexican orchestra at
Kichee liked was on. Bow We switched the dial. This
was the station, all right, But now they were talking
about them damn constipation crystals. If they were jumped now
and had to rab it, and this radio and everything
would have to be left behind. Well, I'm no damn
(01:49):
soda skeep making ten dollars a week. I'll buy another one,
five hundred dollars one and two hundred dollars worth more blankets.
And if we got busted, I know where I can
get plenty more. He placed another log on the fire iron,
sat back down the prongs. A light shadow box now
on the walls, hooking and jabbing frenziedly. The orchestra was playing,
and Bowie got up and went back to the kitchen.
(02:11):
Keechi was standing in front of the oven with a
cloth in her hand. Hear that piece, Keechi nodded. Lago
and Drina always makes me kind of sad somehow makes
me think of them boys. Why, I don't know. I've
been thinking about chickamall though, Kechi. I don't know whether
I did that boy ride or not up there in Kyoto, Keeche,
(02:33):
he might have been expecting me to wait for him there,
and I didn't leave him no note or nothing. How
are you going to leave him a note? I don't know. Well,
quit worrying about it then, and I was just thinking
about them. You have somebody else to worry about now.
We just all started out together, and you can't keep
thinking about things like that. Bowie went back to the
(02:56):
living room and sat down. The fire had lowered and
its glow filtered the darkness like a luminous screen. A
cowboy singer was yodling now about the prairie. I do
have to meet them boys and Gusherton, Bowie thought. They
never did let me down, and I sure can't go
back on them. Why they would just wait and wait
and wait on me, and I wouldn't let them do that.
(03:17):
She will understand. You will understand, won't you, honey. The
cowboy was singing nobody's darling but mine.
Speaker 2 (03:25):
Goodbye, goodbye, little darling. I'm leaving this oul world behind.
Oh promise me that you will never be nobody's darling
but mine.
Speaker 1 (03:46):
Boie cut the voice off. I wish we could get
more newspaper news over this, and not that Mussolini in
Africa and Congress and stuff like that. No news is
good news, though if anything had happened to them boys,
that we would heard about it, Keechie called him. On
the enameled table, there were black eyed peas, corn bread,
fried potatoes, pineapple preserves, and black coffee. After supper, Bowie
(04:11):
took the galvanized iron tub of hot water off the
stove and carried it into the living room and lowered
it to the floor and the hearth's glow. Keechie was
going to take a bath. He spread the bath mat
and towels on the hearth around the tub, and then
looked around the room. The blinds were pulled close all
right standing. Her naked thighs and legs glinted through the
(04:31):
tub's rising vapors. She's sure filling out Bowie thought now.
She raised her left arm and the soaked, dripping cloth
in her right hand, moved towards the shadowed pit. I
didn't know you were such a hairy thing, he said.
Her arm came down. Do you think I should shave?
I should say not. I like it. Don't you ever
(04:51):
do it? I won't then, as long as I have you.
The whipping drying towel covered and revealed, and Bowie felt
the heat of her burnished body glow in his eyes.
He got up and picked up the white flannel pajamas
off the radio. They smelled a clean soap. He handed
them to her. Are you going to wash your feet tonight?
She said, not tonight, honey, I washed them last night.
(05:15):
They lay under the warm, soft blankets now, and Kiche's
fingers played in the flannel over his chest. Outside on
the narrow cement walk. When kicked, leaves scraped and scurried.
In the daytime, he had watched the leaves leave the oak,
and they had twisted and spiraled to the ground like
birds shot with an air gun. She lay quietly now,
and he said softly, keechee. She half raised, What is it, Bowie?
(05:39):
Did you call me? I thought you were asleep. She
peered at him hard. What is it, nothing, honey, I
didn't go to wake you up? What is it, Bowie? Distant,
tiny taut wires trilled in Bowie's ears. I just been
thinking about what, just about things in general. Got to
(06:01):
thinking about some of the boys up there in Alki.
They come in there Kichi bragging about the women they
got outside waiting for them, and after a little while
they hush up, and there's nothing more hurt about it.
I don't know anything about that. It doesn't make any difference.
I don't suppose. I don't care what kind of a man.
You take, a doctor or a big college professor, or
(06:23):
any kind of a man and let him die. Pretty
soon his wife will be out running around with somebody else.
These widows are just about as bad as any kind
of a woman. I don't know about women like that.
Some of these women bury men and in no time
at all pick right up with another. There's women Kichi
that will take up with a dozen men in their lives,
(06:44):
just one right in after another. Those women didn't love well.
I don't know about that. In Alkichi they are bound
to have been pretty crazy about them, and maybe they
didn't love all of them, but they love some of them.
A woman just loves once. What makes a woman live
with one man a while and then with another, and
then just run around with four or five more? They
(07:07):
just don't love. They must like it, Kichi, or they
wouldn't do it. I don't know why other women do things.
Maybe they're just looking and can't find anybody, and then
I guess some of them marry for a living. It
just looks like to me that every woman will do it.
I don't know what other women do. Now, what would
you do, Kichi? If I got in a little trouble
(07:28):
somewhere and you and me might not be able to
see each other again? Kichee did not say anything. The
tiny wires were as loud as crickets now when they
swarmed in Bowie's ears. Didn't you hear me? There wouldn't
be anything for me after you were gone. There's no
use to think about that, Kichi. Look at all these
(07:48):
other women. Maybe they don't the first year, and maybe
they go two or three or four years, But pretty
soon you see him letting some man slobber all over him.
Kichi was quiet. Now, what do you have to say?
Speaker 2 (08:02):
To that, Kichi.
Speaker 1 (08:04):
I guess a woman is kind of like a dog.
Speaker 2 (08:06):
Bowie.
Speaker 1 (08:06):
You take a good dog now, and if his master dies,
that dog won't take food from anybody, and he'll bite
anybody that tries to pet him. And if he goes on,
he'll rustle his own food, and a lot of times
he will just die too. You know that's right. A
bad dog will he out of anybody's hands and take
things from anybody. That's those big Thoroughbred dogs that cost
(08:28):
a pile of money that do that, I guess them
are real dogs. Maybe they do. I never did see.
I don't guess a real Thoroughbred. And the dog I'm
thinking about was there in Kyoto. I don't know what
he was. Nobody else I don't guess. Oh Man Humphrey
owned him, and after he died, I felt so sorry
for that dog. But he wouldn't have anything to do
(08:48):
with anybody, and he wouldn't eat or drink, and then
he just died too. I'll be dog on, Kichie. You
know that's right. It just goes to show you, you know, honey,
or the smartest little old thing I ever did see,
I'm not smart. You're a little soldier, that's what you are.
You go to sleep now. The ringing in Bowe's ears
(09:10):
faded far far away, and his eyes grew heavy, and
he closed him end of Chapter sixteen.
Chapter sixteen of Thieves Like Us by Edward Anderson. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Read by Ben Tucker,
Chapter sixteen. There was one hundred dollars worth of bright
colored blankets on the big red bed and the cock
now a radio that was as big as the fireplace
in the living room, two automatic shotguns and a rifle
(00:23):
on the mantle, and Keechee had a cigarette case with
a diamond in it. They'd done a lot in four weeks.
Old filthy never did snoop around any more, and just
once somebody'd come missus Philpott, the salesman's wife, to borrow
some sugar out here. They never did see anybody except
that little Philpot boy Alvin, And then he was away
(00:43):
down in the woods back of their place with a
twenty two rifle in that spitz dog of his spots.
Bowie sat in front of the radio this evening, smoking
the curved stem pipe that Kee Chee liked, and thought
how everything was looking pretty good in that food pack kitchen, Kichee.
He was frying Irish potatoes the way he liked him,
crisp and brown. I don't care nothing about it myself,
(01:06):
Bowie thought, But we can start taking in some picture
shows down there in that town pretty soon. Girls like
to get out and go places. And that law down there,
I got him spotted, and he ain't never going to
get close to me. In the darkened living room, the
flames of the fireplace logs splashed on the ceilings and walls.
Had he brought in the wood tonight? Yes? What time
(01:28):
was it? Seven point thirty? Christ that Mexican orchestra at
Kichee liked was on. Bow We switched the dial. This
was the station, all right, But now they were talking
about them damn constipation crystals. If they were jumped now
and had to rab it, and this radio and everything
would have to be left behind. Well, I'm no damn
(01:49):
soda skeep making ten dollars a week. I'll buy another one,
five hundred dollars one and two hundred dollars worth more blankets.
And if we got busted, I know where I can
get plenty more. He placed another log on the fire iron,
sat back down the prongs. A light shadow box now
on the walls, hooking and jabbing frenziedly. The orchestra was playing,
and Bowie got up and went back to the kitchen.
(02:11):
Keechi was standing in front of the oven with a
cloth in her hand. Hear that piece, Keechi nodded. Lago
and Drina always makes me kind of sad somehow makes
me think of them boys. Why, I don't know. I've
been thinking about chickamall though, Kechi. I don't know whether
I did that boy ride or not up there in Kyoto, Keeche,
(02:33):
he might have been expecting me to wait for him there,
and I didn't leave him no note or nothing. How
are you going to leave him a note? I don't know. Well,
quit worrying about it then, and I was just thinking
about them. You have somebody else to worry about now.
We just all started out together, and you can't keep
thinking about things like that. Bowie went back to the
(02:56):
living room and sat down. The fire had lowered and
its glow filtered the darkness like a luminous screen. A
cowboy singer was yodling now about the prairie. I do
have to meet them boys and Gusherton, Bowie thought. They
never did let me down, and I sure can't go
back on them. Why they would just wait and wait
and wait on me, and I wouldn't let them do that.
(03:17):
She will understand. You will understand, won't you, honey. The
cowboy was singing nobody's darling but mine.
Speaker 2 (03:25):
Goodbye, goodbye, little darling. I'm leaving this oul world behind.
Oh promise me that you will never be nobody's darling
but mine.
Speaker 1 (03:46):
Boie cut the voice off. I wish we could get
more newspaper news over this, and not that Mussolini in
Africa and Congress and stuff like that. No news is
good news, though if anything had happened to them boys,
that we would heard about it, Keechie called him. On
the enameled table, there were black eyed peas, corn bread,
fried potatoes, pineapple preserves, and black coffee. After supper, Bowie
(04:11):
took the galvanized iron tub of hot water off the
stove and carried it into the living room and lowered
it to the floor and the hearth's glow. Keechie was
going to take a bath. He spread the bath mat
and towels on the hearth around the tub, and then
looked around the room. The blinds were pulled close all
right standing. Her naked thighs and legs glinted through the
(04:31):
tub's rising vapors. She's sure filling out Bowie thought now.
She raised her left arm and the soaked, dripping cloth
in her right hand, moved towards the shadowed pit. I
didn't know you were such a hairy thing, he said.
Her arm came down. Do you think I should shave?
I should say not. I like it. Don't you ever
(04:51):
do it? I won't then, as long as I have you.
The whipping drying towel covered and revealed, and Bowie felt
the heat of her burnished body glow in his eyes.
He got up and picked up the white flannel pajamas
off the radio. They smelled a clean soap. He handed
them to her. Are you going to wash your feet tonight?
She said, not tonight, honey, I washed them last night.
(05:15):
They lay under the warm, soft blankets now, and Kiche's
fingers played in the flannel over his chest. Outside on
the narrow cement walk. When kicked, leaves scraped and scurried.
In the daytime, he had watched the leaves leave the oak,
and they had twisted and spiraled to the ground like
birds shot with an air gun. She lay quietly now,
and he said softly, keechee. She half raised, What is it, Bowie?
(05:39):
Did you call me? I thought you were asleep. She
peered at him hard. What is it, nothing, honey, I
didn't go to wake you up? What is it, Bowie? Distant,
tiny taut wires trilled in Bowie's ears. I just been
thinking about what, just about things in general. Got to
(06:01):
thinking about some of the boys up there in Alki.
They come in there Kichi bragging about the women they
got outside waiting for them, and after a little while
they hush up, and there's nothing more hurt about it.
I don't know anything about that. It doesn't make any difference.
I don't suppose. I don't care what kind of a man.
You take, a doctor or a big college professor, or
(06:23):
any kind of a man and let him die. Pretty
soon his wife will be out running around with somebody else.
These widows are just about as bad as any kind
of a woman. I don't know about women like that.
Some of these women bury men and in no time
at all pick right up with another. There's women Kichi
that will take up with a dozen men in their lives,
(06:44):
just one right in after another. Those women didn't love well.
I don't know about that. In Alkichi they are bound
to have been pretty crazy about them, and maybe they
didn't love all of them, but they love some of them.
A woman just loves once. What makes a woman live
with one man a while and then with another, and
then just run around with four or five more? They
(07:07):
just don't love. They must like it, Kichi, or they
wouldn't do it. I don't know why other women do things.
Maybe they're just looking and can't find anybody, and then
I guess some of them marry for a living. It
just looks like to me that every woman will do it.
I don't know what other women do. Now, what would
you do, Kichi? If I got in a little trouble
(07:28):
somewhere and you and me might not be able to
see each other again? Kichee did not say anything. The
tiny wires were as loud as crickets now when they
swarmed in Bowie's ears. Didn't you hear me? There wouldn't
be anything for me after you were gone. There's no
use to think about that, Kichi. Look at all these
(07:48):
other women. Maybe they don't the first year, and maybe
they go two or three or four years, But pretty
soon you see him letting some man slobber all over him.
Kichi was quiet. Now, what do you have to say?
Speaker 2 (08:02):
To that, Kichi.
Speaker 1 (08:04):
I guess a woman is kind of like a dog.
Speaker 2 (08:06):
Bowie.
Speaker 1 (08:06):
You take a good dog now, and if his master dies,
that dog won't take food from anybody, and he'll bite
anybody that tries to pet him. And if he goes on,
he'll rustle his own food, and a lot of times
he will just die too. You know that's right. A
bad dog will he out of anybody's hands and take
things from anybody. That's those big Thoroughbred dogs that cost
(08:28):
a pile of money that do that, I guess them
are real dogs. Maybe they do. I never did see.
I don't guess a real Thoroughbred. And the dog I'm
thinking about was there in Kyoto. I don't know what
he was. Nobody else I don't guess. Oh Man Humphrey
owned him, and after he died, I felt so sorry
for that dog. But he wouldn't have anything to do
(08:48):
with anybody, and he wouldn't eat or drink, and then
he just died too. I'll be dog on, Kichie. You
know that's right. It just goes to show you, you know, honey,
or the smartest little old thing I ever did see,
I'm not smart. You're a little soldier, that's what you are.
You go to sleep now. The ringing in Bowe's ears
(09:10):
faded far far away, and his eyes grew heavy, and
he closed him end of Chapter sixteen.
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