End of Watch: The Murder of Pensacola Police Detective William Archie Bowman

Friday, August 19, 1938

By Mike Simmons

It was a Pensacola icon. No, it was not the fanciest or the most popular restaurant in town. As a matter of fact, many people never knew it existed. But to a large population of downtown Pensacola, it was a favorite. It had been there since the 1920s, and was named after the wives of the owners, Hattie and Ola. The H&O Restaurant stood at 301 E. Gonzalez St. Everything the Griers cooked was good (not healthy, but good), but my favorite was the black-eyed peas and the greens. And whenever Mike Grier smothered any of the meats with gravy, they were good! Over the years, the H&O saw such celebrities as Rosa Parks, Senator Bob Graham, Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer, Promoter Don King, and locals such as Roy Jones, Jr. A unique quality of the H&O was that you could walk in at lunchtime and see a city councilman and a homeless guy seated at the counter side-by-side!

Two blocks to the east, at 1005 N. Davis Street, in 1938 lived Ben Davis. Ben was very familiar with the Pensacola Police Department, but not in a good way. He was a frequent flyer to the local jail. One of his most profitable professions was selling moonshine whiskey. This line of work, though, had caused him many problems with the local police officers.

On August 19, 1938, the weather – typical for Pensacola – was hot and humid. The thermometer said it was 91 degrees, but the locals know the temperature is only part of it. Coupled with the humidity it feels…suffocating.

Archie Bowman was a vital part of the Pensacola Police Department. Few men had his experience and wisdom, gained from thirty-seven years of working the streets. He was a real street cop. He held the rank of “Special Officer,” which equates that of a detective today.

When a line of investigating led Archie to Ben Davis’ house, neither man was surprised. When he found Ben, he asked if he could come into his house. Ben had been dealing with a frustrating string of bad luck, and the last thing he needed was the police hounding him again. But he reluctantly let Archie in. Archie began looking around. When he found the illegal alcohol, Ben knew he was headed back to jail. That was the last straw. Ben said to no one in particular, “I’m tired of them police always searching my house, looking for alcohol!” He reached under a cushion and pulled out a pistol, and disappeared into the back room where Archie was. A few seconds later, four gunshots were heard, and Ben came running through the house and out the front door. He jumped into his car and sped away.

Archie had been shot in the abdomen, chest, arm, and shoulder. It didn’t look good. He was rushed to the hospital. Within minutes, police officers, including Assistant Chief Riley Simmons and Chief Willie O’Connell, descended on the area in a desperate search for the offender.  

The wounded detective was soon loaded into an ambulance owned by Fisher-Pou Funeral Home and rushed to Pensacola Hospital, but he died on the way. The distinguished career of an excellent police officer who showed no fear came to an end in an instant – at the hands of a small man. 

In such a moment, every officer – in Pensacola and abroad – who heard of the death of a brother felt a stab in his heart. The stab went deep and stayed…because nothing could make it better. Nothing, that is, except to focus all the pain and attention on capturing the responsible party. If the perpetrator of this cowardly act wanted to kick the hornet’s nest of hundreds of angry, expert lawmen, he accomplished it.

What developed from the group of heartbroken officers at the scene quickly grew into the largest manhunt that has ever been formed in northwest Florida up to that time. A small army of police officers, deputies, constables, and state officers from Pensacola to Atmore, Alabama to Fort Walton grabbed their pistols, shotguns, and bloodhounds and answered the call for help in the search. They checked out every sighting reported and went through wooded areas, small communities, towns, and cities looking for the fugitive.

On Sunday, August 21, 1938, the intersection of “L” and Government Streets needed a traffic cop. Cars were lined along both sides of the streets for several blocks in each direction. Inside the small house at 1816 West Government Street lay the body of the fallen hero, his family seated beside it. The house was not only full, but the yard, the sidewalk, and the street as well. Reverend C. V. McMurphy and Reverend I. I. Roberts conducted a moving service. They went over Archie’s fearless dedication to his job, and his efforts to keep the city safe.

After the service, the body was taken 35 miles north to the cemetery at Ray’s Chapel in McDavid, Florida – Archie’s stomping grounds growing up. The funeral procession stretched for three miles. The hearse was at Palafox Street and Pottery Plant Road (Fairfield Drive) when the last car joined in on West Government Street.

When the graveside services were finished, guns were picked up by tired, grubby lawmen who got back to work with a renewed fervor to capture Archie’s killer. 

Acting on a tip, Ben was arrested on Friday, August 26, 1938 in Monroe, Alabama and taken by Sheriff Farish to Canoe Station, Alabama (near Atmore) where he was met by Escambia County, Florida Sheriff Deputies.

On January 18, 1939, Ben Davis was found guilty of murdering Officer Bowman and sentenced to life in prison. He spent the rest of his days at the Florida State Prison in Raiford.

Rest in Peace, Officer Bowman. The younger officers have the watch.