Copyright 2009 By Dwana Pusser Garrison, Ken Beck, and Jim Clark All rights reserved

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3 PELICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY GRETNA 2009

4 Copyright 2009 By Dwana Pusser Garrison, Ken Beck, and Jim Clark All rights reserved The word Pelican and the depiction of a pelican are trademarks of Pelican Publishing Company, Inc., and are registered in the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Pusser, Dwana. Walking on : a daughter s journey with legendary sheriff Buford Pusser / by Dwana Pusser with Ken Beck and Jim Clark. p. cm. ISBN (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Pusser, Buford, Sheriffs Tennessee Biography. 3. Pusser, Dwana. 4. Fathers and daughters. I. Title. HV7911.P85P dc22 [B] Printed in the United States of America Published by Pelican Publishing Company, Inc Burmaster Street, Gretna, Louisiana 70053

5 To my parents, Buford and Pauline Pusser, who brought me into this journey, and to my daughters, Atoyia and Madison, who I hope will continue the legacy of Walking On

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7 Contents Preface 9 Acknowledgments 13 Introduction 15 Chapter 1 My First Memories and Early Childhood 19 Chapter 2 Daddy s Childhood 42 Chapter 3 Daddy s Early Adulthood 61 Chapter 4 Daddy s Life in Law Enforcement 70 Chapter 5 Taking on Harder Crime and the State Line Mob 87 Chapter 6 The Ambush of My Parents 102 Chapter 7 The Aftermath of the Ambush 109 Chapter 8 Back in the Swing of Things 117 Chapter 9 A Childhood Resumed 125 Chapter 10 The Calm After One Storm and Before Another 139 Chapter 11 Walking Tall, the Movie 153 Chapter 12 The Death of My Daddy 181 Chapter 13 Daddy s Funeral 197 Chapter 14 Picking Up the Pieces: My Life Without Daddy 209 Chapter 15 Losing and Finding My Way in Life 219 Chapter 16 Preserving My Daddy s Legacy: The Buford Pusser Home and Museum 232 Chapter 17 Walking Tall, Chapter 18 My Thoughts About Daddy s Death 257

8 Epilogue 270 Appendix A: Buford Pusser Festival 273 Appendix B: The Death of Buford Pusser 275 Appendix C: Film and TV Credits 281

9 Preface For there to be heroes in this world, there must be villains. The American South has had its share of both. In 1937, when the Great Depression was still gripping the nation, my daddy, Buford Pusser, was born in McNairy County in southwest Tennessee. Times were tough, but Daddy s family worked hard and patched together a decent livelihood and life for themselves. In the wake of World War II and on the brink of racial turmoil, Vietnam, and assassinations that would soon tear at the nation, life showed signs of becoming less harsh for folks in just about all corners of the country, including McNairy County. By the late 1950s and early 1960s, a small economic boom was under way along the Tennessee-Mississippi state line between McNairy and Alcorn counties. With that relative prosperity came a sinister invasion by some very bad people. Many of these evildoers had been chased out of Phenix City, Alabama, a place nicknamed Sin City by the soldiers of World War II stationed at Fort Benning, Georgia. The criminals ruling Phenix City proved ruthless as they preyed upon G.I.s and their families so much so that Gen. George S. Patton grumbled that he might have to move his tanks across the Chattahoochee River and mash Phenix City flat. After the assassination of attorney general-elect Albert Patterson in 1954, the governor of Alabama declared martial law and put the National Guard in charge of the battle to rid the town of its gangsters and other career criminals. 9

10 10 WALKING ON Rooting out perpetrators of crimes ranging from prostitution, bribery, and murder to gambling, robbery, and bombings, the National Guard made hundreds of arrests that led to almost as many convictions, including those of prominent politicians and law-enforcement officers. During the cleansing of Phenix City, some of the mob scurried off to the area just above Corinth, Mississippi, and below Selmer, Tennessee, right along the state line. By the late 1950s, criminals ruled this corridor and made life miserable for locals and for travelers who stopped by for a meal or a good night s sleep or maybe for what they thought would be some harmless action. The mile-long stretch of U.S. Highway 45 at the border was riddled with dangerous motels, restaurants, and taverns where you could buy just about anything legal or illegal. If you made the mistake of flashing too much cash, the odds were good that you d never see the next sunrise. And it was just as certain that your body would never be found. Even though both state line counties were dry, sales of illegal alcohol flowed as freely as the nearby Tennessee River, which was reputed to be the final resting place for many missing victims of the state line thugs. For decades, the state line was infected with this epidemic of crime similar to what had plagued Phenix City. It was also where hit men and other hoodlums from as far away as Chicago and New York came to lie low and avoid the law. It was into this setting that Daddy returned home as a young man in 1956 after an abbreviated stint in the Marines. His first confrontation with the notorious mob left an unhealable scar in his memory and hardened his dedication to stamp out these enemies of his home and way of life. As McNairy County sheriff from 1964 to 1970, Daddy began a crusade that shut down the area s illegal alcohol trade, the backbone of the organized crime that was gnawing its way into every aspect of decent living. He knocked out scores of moonshine stills and put a slew of bootleggers, thieves, and violent men behind bars. His biggest enemies were the state line criminals, in

11 Preface 11 particular Louise Hathcock and Carl ( Towhead ) White, who considered himself the Al Capone of the South. Daddy pursued the state line villains with a vengeance equal to the crooks lust for power and wealth. Considered by some to be a vigilante cop, Daddy had numerous attempts made on his life. By the time his war on crime was over, Hathcock and White would be dead, and Daddy would lose his wife my mother to cold-blooded ambushers. Through it all, my daddy walked tall and stood firm. And when required, he came ready to swing a big stick.

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13 Acknowledgments It has taken me quite a while to write this book. Many times I thought it would be too painful, but then I found a lot of joy remembering the good times of my childhood along with the bad times. Without key people in my life, I would not be the person I am today. I wish to thank those people: My aunt Gail, who was the best aunt a girl could ever have. It was just us for many years. James and Norma Wood, for their love and guidance. My daddy s good friend, Jack Coffman, who helped me in telling the great stories, and his other wonderful friends, who assisted with this project: Bill Wagner, Juanita Richardson, Paul Wallace Plunk, Roger Horton, Billy Frank Harris, Don Browder, and Rod Provience. Steve and Sherry Sweat, for promoting the Buford Pusser legacy and helping keep my dad s story alive. And Steve for his historical knowledge. My manager Rex Robinson, attorney Terry Wood, and sidekick Shirley Sparks, a.k.a. Mama Shirley. Thanks for trying to keep me straight in business and in life. Also Rex, for his welcome input on the book. My brother by heart, Ronald Hardin. Just know that you and your parents have meant the world to me. Mel Carnal, who gave me what was really my first great job and who was a mentor to me during the sixteen years of my radio career. 13

14 14 WALKING ON Becky and Jim Kerr, who gave me guidance and became my Savannah family when I moved to Savannah, Tennessee. Those who work now or have worked at the Buford Pusser Museum, for the great job they have done and continue to do in helping tell Daddy s story. Dr. James Spruill and Dr. John Vinson, for keeping me on my feet and in the right frame of mind with this crazy disease called multiple sclerosis. They both helped me more than they know. Wiley Brewer, for his wonderful photography work for this book and the museum. Ken Beck and Jim Clark, for the tireless hours, weeks, and years that they put in this book. Thank you for keeping me going on this project. My family. Thank you for your love and support. Finally, my daughters, Atoyia and Madison, for their unconditional faith and love. Always remember you had a wonderful grandfather who would have loved to have gotten to know you. And my grandson, Hayse. You re your greatgrandfather s namesake. Walk tall, son, and be proud. Dwana Pusser In addition to all the folks above, we would like to thank Ken s wife, Wendy, and daughter and son, Kylie and Cole; Jim s wife, Mary; and Peggy Evans, John Seigenthaler, Al Knight, Drew White, Brent Baldwin, and Glenda Washam. Ken Beck and Jim Clark

15 Introduction If anybody ought to be crazy, it s me. We have Western Mental Health Institute over in Bolivar, Tennessee, not far from where I live. It s where they send crazy folks from our part of the state. I ve told people that I could have been locked up at Bolivar a long time ago. If the people I m telling that to don t know me very well, they just look at me like I m talking crazy. If they know me well enough, though, they just shake their heads and sigh. My mother was murdered in an ambush when I was six years old. My father died in my arms when I was thirteen. All I have to do is start telling my life story. If that doesn t get me a lifetime pass to Bolivar, then nobody else should be there at all. My daddy was Buford Pusser. After graduating from high school, he joined the Marines and later went to Chicago to work and attend mortuary school. While there, he became a professional wrestler. Because of his size six foot six and weighing in at 250 pounds they nicknamed him Buford the Bull. It was because of his wrestling that he met and married my mother in I was born in Chicago in 1961 but moved to my daddy s hometown of Adamsville, Tennessee, with my family when I was an infant. Daddy became police chief of Adamsville and then sheriff of McNairy County. His exploits were turned into a hit motion picture in 1973 called Walking Tall. One of the most dramatic scenes in the 15

16 16 WALKING ON movie was the ambush of my parents by mobsters that resulted in the death of my mother. Daddy s life was made into a film because he was larger than life. The film turned him into a legend, but even the film, which of course had plenty of fictional elements, couldn t capture the complexity of the real man behind both the legend and the character on the silver screen. Daddy was most famous for tearing up stills and busting up disreputable joints, but he was the kind of man who didn t go looking for trouble. On the other hand, if it came to him, he didn t back away from it. In his six years as sheriff of McNairy County, he killed two people in self-defense. He was stabbed seven times and shot eight times. He more than held his own when he got into a fight with six men at once. He sent three of them to the hospital. The other three went to jail. But there was another side to him that was more like a gentle giant. My daddy was everything to me. He was my whole world. He was not only my father. Sometimes he was my mother. He also was my best friend. My daddy, Buford Hayse Pusser, was only thirty-six years old when he died. This is the story of his life and my life with and without my father. I ll share my theory about why I think the wreck that killed my father was not an accident. To support my theory, I will reveal astonishing documentation never before published. In fact, only a few people know that the documentation exists, and only a handful have actually seen it until now. After I ve finished telling what I know, I hope you ll feel like you know my daddy and me. Maybe you ll think I m just talking crazy. Maybe you ll just shake your head and sigh.

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