Kelly focused mostly on small-town banks until marrying Katherine Thorne, who raised his profile by convincing him to use a Thompson submachine gun in his robberies and aim for bigger stakes. Although Kelly was the one with the reputation as a ruthless criminal, apparently Katherine played a large role in raising that profile and pushing him to the bigger jobs.
In Infamous, Ace Atkins tells the story of the Kellys' last big job -- the kidnapping and ransom of Oklahoma City oilman Charles Urschel in 1933. Although they would net $200,000 for the crime, it placed them on Hoover's radar and ultimately led to their arrests. Kelly would die in prison in 1954 and Katherine would not be released until 1958, and several other participants in the crime drew life sentences as well, including Katherine's mother and stepfather who helped hold Urschel captive.
The story zips along with Atkins' usual skill -- this is the fourth fictionalized "true crime" story he's told in addition to a couple of his own series -- and if it drags in places it's because the schemes and manipulations and double crosses of the nefarious cast seem like they play on an infinite loop. Katherine works an angle to make sure she's OK if things go wrong; some other thugs try to cut themselves in on the take and plan to get hold of the ransom themselves; other participants in the crime make deals of their own with lawmen or the second group of lawbreakers and so on. None of these people have any loyalty to anyone but themselves and the mare's nest of schemes bogs down the forward motion of the story.
But it also highlights something that may or may not be apparent when we read crime fiction or watch crime stories -- a significant number of these people are losers. On the one hand that would seem obvious. The actual criminal masterminds didn't have nicknames and media profiles. Nobody knew who they were and thus they didn't do time like Kelly did. But because of the romanticizing nature of the media coverage, people like Kelly, Charles "Pretty Boy" Floyd, John Dillinger and Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow took on characteristics they probably didn't have or deserve. At best they were losers and bullies who felt that the world owed them something for nothing and used threats and violence to take that something from people who had actually earned it. At worst they were sociopaths who left bodies and ruined lives in their wakes.
Atkins, even though he fictionalizes the lives of George and Kathryn and other members of their underworld set, shows a much truer picture of what kind of people they were. Their apparently incurable greed, lack of self-discipline, addiction to adrenaline and power and flat-out stupidity meant that even though they cleared an amount that would be equal to nearly $3.5 million today they couldn't find a way to take the money and run out of the reach of the law or their own fellow crooks. They spent it on new cars, clothes, hotels -- basically, they acted like 8-year-olds given a thousand dollars and free run at a Toys "R" Us.
Showing the loser beneath the media spitshine isn't easy. Yes, Mario Puzo may have lionized his Corleone family in The Godfather but Al Pacino visibly sold his soul to obtain and keep power as Michael Corleone in the movie version of the story. Only it was the swagger and the style and the nicknames of the button men and the capos and such that people remembered. The Sopranos had much of the same issue: No matter how often Tony gave orders to harm or kill an enemy, he was frequently "lovable mafioso" when people wrote about the show.
Anyone who reads Infamous can't come away with that kind of picture of George and Katherine Kelly or the others involved. And in the end that may be one of the best things about Atkins' adaptation of this story.
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