Sometimes a case of mistaken identity can spoil your quiet drive in the country but leave you with a great story to one day tell the grandkids. That’s what happened one cold weekend in late January 1933 in Waco.

Two unassuming Central Texas school band directors — J.C. Burkett of Breckenridge and R.T. Bryan of Abilene — were traveling together, accompanied by Mrs. Burkett, to Waco to attend a band directors’ convention here. The trio was riding east in the Burketts’ black car along State Highway 67, which later would become part of what we now know as Highway 6. As a safety precaution against the highway robbers so prevalent at the time, they carried a pistol with them in the car.

When the happy group passed through Meridian (possibly whistling a Sousa march in unison), they somehow came to the attention of an alert citizen who kept up with the news, and that’s where all the trouble began. You see, this person had heard that state authorities were hot on the lookout for a group of dangerous criminals responsible for the recent murders of a sheriff in Tulia and a deputy sheriff in Rhome. The description of the fugitives was two men and a woman ... riding in a black car. When the alert citizen realized that the musical trio matched the description, and also noticed the pistol in the Burkett car, he was convinced he had spotted the murderers.

The man, who had the moxie to copy down the license number of the Burkett car, contacted the Bosque County sheriff, who then let McLennan County Sheriff W.B. Mobley know that he had a carload of fugitive murderers heading smack dab toward him in Waco. Mobley wasn’t taking any chances with a gang of possible sheriff killers. He grabbed a loaded machine gun and one of his biggest deputies, Will Girard, and headed out to Highway 67 to await the arrival of the black car.

When the Burkett car appeared, Mobley got out his machine gun and shouted, “Stop! I’m the sheriff.” But Burkett, who had been worried about meeting hijackers on the road, apparently didn’t believe that Mobley was an officer of the law. Instead of slowing down or stopping, he stepped on the gas. Mobley gave chase, ordering Burkett again to stop, but to no avail.

(The Waco Sunday Tribune-Herald article doesn’t describe the car Sheriff Mobley was driving, or mention whether it was equipped with modern law enforcement gadgets such as flashing lights and sirens. But the only conclusion I can infer is that Mobley’s vehicle didn’t have the kind of markings to make it immediately recognizable as a sheriff’s car).

Back to our story. The chase continued through the hills of northwest Waco, the sheriff following the speeding Burkett down Nineteenth Street, Eighteenth Street, Herring Avenue and eventually into downtown. At the intersection of Fifth Street and Washington Avenue— a stone’s throw from the McLennan County Courthouse and the Sheriff’s Office — the dangerous desperadoes in the black car threw caution to the wind ... and stopped for a red light. That’s when the chase ended. Mobley hopped out of his car brandishing his machine gun, leveled it at the terrified passengers and said, “Get out. I’m the law.”

Bryan and Mrs. Burkett complied immediately, but the stubborn baton-waver Burkett stayed behind the wheel and refused to get out of the car. As the newspaper account explained it, “It was his car, and he was not going to surrender to these bold hijackers without a struggle.” But when Deputy Girard brandished a pistol and yanked Burkett out of the car, the pursuit was over.

By this time a crowd had gathered, following the sheriff and deputy as they escorted their three bewildered prisoners to the nearby courthouse. The crowd went inside and remained to watch as an ever-growing group of deputy sheriffs, Texas Rangers and prosecutors interviewed the suspects.

The band directors were required to prove that they actually were band directors and not just deceptively normal-looking murderers on the run, and after a few phone calls they were successful enough that the authorities let them finally get to their convention, albeit a bit late and considerably shaken up.

Not content to stick to the facts, someone in the crowd apparently started a rumor that circulated around town and beyond, to the effect that Waco’s First National Bank had been robbed and Sheriff Mobley had the culprits in custody.

And what of the good sheriff? As the newspaper ended its account, “Waco used to be known as ‘Six-Shooter Junction,’ and now Sheriff Mobley is getting it named ‘Machine Gun Corners.’”

[Source: Waco Sunday Tribune-Herald, Jan. 29, 1933]