One
of the things about Jake’s [Jake Sims] unique career that stands above all others was that
after a famous gun fight with a gang of bank robbers known as the Edward’s Gang
where Jake shot and killed a few bad guys and some of his fellow lawmen were
shot and killed, Jake never again carried a gun. After the fatal gun fight, he
is reputed to express the belief that there had to be a better way to enforce
the law than with a gun. There were exceptions to his no gun rule but for the
most part, he was a master at convincing criminals to surrender rather than run
or resist arrest. The legend is that criminals from all over Oklahoma would
come to Seminole to surrender to Jake Sims because they knew they would not be
shot or abused while in his custody. This is pretty amazing for a lawman that
stood at five feet, six inches and probably weighed less than 120
pounds.
Jake Sims never learned to drive. The story is that early in his career as a cop, he went to one of the new car dealers in Seminole to pick out a car to purchase so he could learn to drive. He drove the new car thought the wall and show room window of the car dealer. That was the end of his attempt to learn to drive. From then on, until his retirement, he always had a driver. The driver was always a cop who was armed.
With that minimal background information I can relate the following story. I was a small child [His grandson--Charles]. I am not sure how old I was when all this was happening but I would have been under the age of six because I was too young to go to school.
Jake, in his capacity at the Oklahoma Crime Bureau, traveled all over Oklahoma to visit with his informants and look for bad guys. He and his driver would leave OKC early in the morning and stop at various beer joints and BBQ places to meet with every sort of criminal and n'er do well imaginable. Sometimes they made it home at night. Sometimes they spent the night in various hotels. Jake liked to, on occasion, take me along on his trips. He and his driver would put me in the back seat of their enormous Buick and off we would go for an all-day or sometimes two-day trip.
My mother hated this. At the time, I did not understand why my mother did not like me traveling with Jake. My father was adamant that I be allowed to go with Jake on these trips. There were a lot of harsh words exchanged in our house over these trips. At the time, as a small child, I had no idea of why my mother would have objected to what, for me, were great adventures. Later in life I came to understand my mother’s point of view.
A typical day trip would consist of multiple stops in bars, BBQ joints and other shady places. Jake and his driver would take their place in a back booth or table. The driver would bring in a case of pint liquor bottles from the trunk of the car. Remember that Oklahoma was officially dry during this time period. A succession of what I can now understand was informants and criminals would sit down at Jake's table and tell Jake about god only knows about bad things and bad people. When the conversation with Jake was finished, the informant was rewarded with a pint or two bottles of whiskey. Most of these people who talked with Jake were probably not motivated by free whiskey. I think what was going on here was what we would more likely recognize today as some form of plea bargaining. You told Jake what you knew about the safe hijackers and he would have a talk with the local cops about your petty theft. I was never allowed to listen to these stories. I was always put at the counter or a table beyond hearing range. The bartender would give me a coke and entertain me.
Was I in any danger during these meetings? Probably not. I have a memory of setting at the bar when a very rough looking guy came into the bar and plopped down on the bar stool next to me. He made some comment to me and the bartender said to him, that is Jake Sims’s grandson you are talking to and Jake is sitting right over there watching you. The man jumped off his stool and told the bartender to tell Jake that I didn’t mean no harm. I was just being friendly. About that time, Jake’s driver stood up and wiggled his finger at the guy in a come here motion. The guy ran for the door. The driver said to the bartender, I ain’t going to chase him but you tell him that he needs to come see Jake the next time we are in town. I suspect the guy showed up for his appointment.
All of which gets us to my story:
One of the places I visited with Jake and one of my favorite places was outside of Moore, Oklahoma. At that time, Moore was just a wide spot on the road between Norman and OKC. It was a rural area. We would stop at a huge, two story house that was in the middle of farm field. A farm field where nothing grew. The house looked like a country and western version of Tara. Jake, his driver and I would climb the stairs to the front door where we would be escorted inside by a lovely lady. Jake and his driver would climb the sweeping staircase to the second floor while I would be taken to the "pallor" which was a large room decorated with big stuffed couches and chairs that reinforced the Tara image. This was my favorite part of the trip. The pallor would be full on some of the nicest ladies I have ever meet. Those nice ladies were so happy to have a small child to entertain. They would make me cookies and milk. I took turns setting on their laps and being kissed and hugged. As a child, I was always taken by the nice ladies’ form of dress. They did not dress like my mom or the other ladies in Seminole. They were very colorful. Some wore great, flowing skirts. Others did not seem to wear a lot of clothes and favored black stockings with huge seams. For a child, it was a little like going to the circus. Nevertheless, for a short time at the house, I would have the company of a lot of ladies who really loved me.
I assume that by pre-design, there were never any other men in the house while we were there. Occasionally there would be a knock on the door, but no one was ever admitted into the house. Jake and his driver would come down the stairs after an hour or so and we would load into the car and be off to our next stop. I have no recollection of ever asking what Jake and his driver were doing upstairs.
I am embarrassed to admit that I thought nothing of this particular stop for many years. Then one day when I was in my twenties, a great gestalt occurred. Holy crap. That was a whore house. It just never occurred to me while coming of age in Seminole. Now perhaps we all have dirty minds and what we are thinking was going on upstairs was not really what was going on upstairs. Maybe Jake was meeting with a higher level of informants, crooks and politicians out of OKC and that house provided the privacy they needed to conduct police business. Sure, that is possible.
I don't think my mother ever knew about this stop on my trips with Jake but maybe she did. Was I in any danger? Probably not. I think those ladies would have ripped the eyes out of anybody who tried to harm me.
We all have regrets in life. One of mine is that I was not old enough to really get to know Jake before he died. Can you imagine the stories that he could have told if I could have gotten him to talk. My guess is that a lot interesting names and places went to the grave with Jake.
Jake Sims never learned to drive. The story is that early in his career as a cop, he went to one of the new car dealers in Seminole to pick out a car to purchase so he could learn to drive. He drove the new car thought the wall and show room window of the car dealer. That was the end of his attempt to learn to drive. From then on, until his retirement, he always had a driver. The driver was always a cop who was armed.
With that minimal background information I can relate the following story. I was a small child [His grandson--Charles]. I am not sure how old I was when all this was happening but I would have been under the age of six because I was too young to go to school.
Jake, in his capacity at the Oklahoma Crime Bureau, traveled all over Oklahoma to visit with his informants and look for bad guys. He and his driver would leave OKC early in the morning and stop at various beer joints and BBQ places to meet with every sort of criminal and n'er do well imaginable. Sometimes they made it home at night. Sometimes they spent the night in various hotels. Jake liked to, on occasion, take me along on his trips. He and his driver would put me in the back seat of their enormous Buick and off we would go for an all-day or sometimes two-day trip.
My mother hated this. At the time, I did not understand why my mother did not like me traveling with Jake. My father was adamant that I be allowed to go with Jake on these trips. There were a lot of harsh words exchanged in our house over these trips. At the time, as a small child, I had no idea of why my mother would have objected to what, for me, were great adventures. Later in life I came to understand my mother’s point of view.
A typical day trip would consist of multiple stops in bars, BBQ joints and other shady places. Jake and his driver would take their place in a back booth or table. The driver would bring in a case of pint liquor bottles from the trunk of the car. Remember that Oklahoma was officially dry during this time period. A succession of what I can now understand was informants and criminals would sit down at Jake's table and tell Jake about god only knows about bad things and bad people. When the conversation with Jake was finished, the informant was rewarded with a pint or two bottles of whiskey. Most of these people who talked with Jake were probably not motivated by free whiskey. I think what was going on here was what we would more likely recognize today as some form of plea bargaining. You told Jake what you knew about the safe hijackers and he would have a talk with the local cops about your petty theft. I was never allowed to listen to these stories. I was always put at the counter or a table beyond hearing range. The bartender would give me a coke and entertain me.
Was I in any danger during these meetings? Probably not. I have a memory of setting at the bar when a very rough looking guy came into the bar and plopped down on the bar stool next to me. He made some comment to me and the bartender said to him, that is Jake Sims’s grandson you are talking to and Jake is sitting right over there watching you. The man jumped off his stool and told the bartender to tell Jake that I didn’t mean no harm. I was just being friendly. About that time, Jake’s driver stood up and wiggled his finger at the guy in a come here motion. The guy ran for the door. The driver said to the bartender, I ain’t going to chase him but you tell him that he needs to come see Jake the next time we are in town. I suspect the guy showed up for his appointment.
All of which gets us to my story:
One of the places I visited with Jake and one of my favorite places was outside of Moore, Oklahoma. At that time, Moore was just a wide spot on the road between Norman and OKC. It was a rural area. We would stop at a huge, two story house that was in the middle of farm field. A farm field where nothing grew. The house looked like a country and western version of Tara. Jake, his driver and I would climb the stairs to the front door where we would be escorted inside by a lovely lady. Jake and his driver would climb the sweeping staircase to the second floor while I would be taken to the "pallor" which was a large room decorated with big stuffed couches and chairs that reinforced the Tara image. This was my favorite part of the trip. The pallor would be full on some of the nicest ladies I have ever meet. Those nice ladies were so happy to have a small child to entertain. They would make me cookies and milk. I took turns setting on their laps and being kissed and hugged. As a child, I was always taken by the nice ladies’ form of dress. They did not dress like my mom or the other ladies in Seminole. They were very colorful. Some wore great, flowing skirts. Others did not seem to wear a lot of clothes and favored black stockings with huge seams. For a child, it was a little like going to the circus. Nevertheless, for a short time at the house, I would have the company of a lot of ladies who really loved me.
I assume that by pre-design, there were never any other men in the house while we were there. Occasionally there would be a knock on the door, but no one was ever admitted into the house. Jake and his driver would come down the stairs after an hour or so and we would load into the car and be off to our next stop. I have no recollection of ever asking what Jake and his driver were doing upstairs.
I am embarrassed to admit that I thought nothing of this particular stop for many years. Then one day when I was in my twenties, a great gestalt occurred. Holy crap. That was a whore house. It just never occurred to me while coming of age in Seminole. Now perhaps we all have dirty minds and what we are thinking was going on upstairs was not really what was going on upstairs. Maybe Jake was meeting with a higher level of informants, crooks and politicians out of OKC and that house provided the privacy they needed to conduct police business. Sure, that is possible.
I don't think my mother ever knew about this stop on my trips with Jake but maybe she did. Was I in any danger? Probably not. I think those ladies would have ripped the eyes out of anybody who tried to harm me.
We all have regrets in life. One of mine is that I was not old enough to really get to know Jake before he died. Can you imagine the stories that he could have told if I could have gotten him to talk. My guess is that a lot interesting names and places went to the grave with Jake.
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