The Acid Bride–Conclusion

Bernice and Carlyn

Bernice and Carlyn drove around the city with no destination in mind. Bernice ordered her sister to stop at a drugstore on Sawtelle Blvd. Bernice bought a bottle of veronal cubes and before Carlyn could make a move to stop her, she swallowed all of them. Bernice realized the dose could be fatal, so she started to scream and cry. Carlyn thought fast. She saw a bus stopped at the side of the road, so she pulled over to ask the driver for directions to the nearest hospital. Carlyn and the bus driver drove Bernice to Hollywood Hospital; where she lapsed into a coma. The doctors gave Bernice a fighting chance. Darby fared a little better than his wife. The twenty-five cents’ worth of acid damaged one half of his face, but his doctors felt they could save his eyesight. Sadly, they were mistaken. About three weeks after Bernice’s attack, Darby lost sight in one eye.

Darby Day in the hospital following the acid attack.

While Bernice was in the hospital, and Darby recuperated at home. Detectives tried to piece together the complete story. In particular, the motive for the crime. Carlyn provided a piece of the puzzle. She produced a note, written by Bernice, which blamed Mrs. Day, Sr. for the marital discord between the newlyweds.

“Darby: I’m as sane as can be, but after your mother acted the way she did and would have anything to do with you after I saw you this afternoon, I guess it’s quits. I love you from the bottom of my heart and they say love will go to extremes. We are both in the same fix and you will never find a love as true or pure as mine. Mother-in-laws (sic) should not live with young married people. Love, Bernie,”

Bernice woke up, and since she was unwelcome at the Beverly Hills house, she stayed with her mom and sisters in their apartment at 529 South Manhattan. The police found Bernice and Carlyn there and took them into custody.

Bernice stuck to her ridiculous story, claiming that she doused Darby with acid when the cork flew out of the bottle. Alienists examined her and determined she had the mind of a ten-year-old girl.

Once the jury saw the damage Darby had suffered, they didn’t care if Bernice was a clumsy ten-year-old girl in the body of a 20-year-old woman; they found her guilty. The jury cut Carlyn a break. They found her not guilty of being an accomplice.

Bernice got one to fourteen years in prison.

She could not stay out of trouble. Police rearrested her for speeding while she was out on bond, pending an appeal.

Bernice Day. Photo courtesy of Los Angeles Public Library

For months Bernice remained a free woman, but California’s high court denied her appeal and by mid-August 1926, the Acid Bride was San Quentin bound.

The press caught up with her as she was about to board the train that would take her to San Quentin. She told them, “I have no bitter feelings against anyone. I have nothing to say about the case, as there has been too much said already.”

Darby Day Jr. and his family returned to Chicago, where he divorced Bernice. Even with the divorce, rumors suggested Darby and Bernice would reconcile on her release from prison. The rumors may not have been as loony as they sounded.

In a move that shocked everyone, Darby made a plea to the Governor of California to set Bernice free. He said, “Bernice has been punished sufficiently for her hasty act, just as I have suffered, but this is the time to forgive, make amends, and then forget. I am not attempting to shield her, nor to belittle the offenses, but I will do what I can to bring about her release.”

The governor was not as forgiving as Darby, and Bernice’s bid to win a pardon failed. The parole board paroled Bernice at the end of 1927, after she had served only fourteen months. Too short a sentence for the agony she caused Darby.

The beautiful young parolee said she wanted to put her time in prison behind her. She summed up her fourteen months in San Quentin for reporters saying, “Association with approximately 100 women, white and black, brown and yellow, some good the others mostly bad, all milling back and forth like animals in damp and stuffy quarters where the air is none too good, daily disputes, wrangles, bickering, real fist fights at times and a good deal of hair pullin’—such a life is enough to take the heart out of anyone, especially when one has not been accustomed to such associations.”

Her snobbery and lack of self-awareness speak volumes about her immaturity and selfishness. Pretty on the outside, ugly on the inside.

Bernice denied the rumors that she and Darby would reconcile. She told reporters, “I’m glad he got a divorce, for I never want to see or hear of him again. As for the public, all I ask is that they let me alone.”

Bernice and her family returned to Chicago. Evidence suggests they all moved to Florida, and Bernice remarried.

In a tragic PostScript to the case, Darby Day Jr. died under anesthesia in a Santa Monica hospital on February 4, 1928.

His death hastened by Bernice’s vicious attack. 

Aggie & Leona

I first encountered Agness “Aggie” Underwood while researching crime in Los Angeles. Aggie’s name appeared many times in various accounts, which piqued my curiosity. I had to know more about one of the few women reporters working in the field during the 1930s and 1940s.

Aggie’s 1949 autobiography, NEWSPAPERWOMAN, was a revelation. Here was a woman who reported on the major crime stories of her day, including the 1947 murder of Elizabeth Short, the Black Dahlia.

Agness May Wilson was born to Clifford and Mamie Sullivan Wilson in San Francisco in 1902.

Clifford Wilson

Her sister, Leona, followed four years later. By 1904, the family had moved to Belleville, Illinois, and it was there Mamie, 25 years old, died of rheumatism of the heart. Before she died, she had Aggie promise to care for Leona. That is a heavy burden to place on the shoulders of a little girl.

Aggie’s father, Clifford, was a glassblower who traveled for work. After Mamie’s death, he passed Aggie and Leona to relatives. Eventually, relatives placed them in separate foster homes. Aggie fought to keep Leona with her, but her best efforts were no match for the adults who tore them apart. The sisters lost touch.

Aggie’s life in the foster home was hard. She struck out on her own in her early teens. Eventually landing in Los Angeles, she worked at the Pig ‘n Whistle downtown. Things looked up when Harry Underwood, a soda jerk at the Pig, proposed to her when a greedy relative threatened to report her for working underage—unless she turned over her entire paycheck. Aggie gratefully accepted Harry’s timely proposal.

Mamie Sullivan Wilson

We characterize the 1920s as a free-wheeling time when liquor and money flowed. It didn’t hold true for everyone. The Underwoods, like many other families, struggled financially. By 1924, they had two children, Mary Evelyn, and George Harry. They realized they could not make it in Los Angeles, so they traveled out-of-state, seeking new opportunities. During their travels, Aggie located Leona, and they reunited.

The Underwoods returned to Los Angeles, and Leona moved in to the family’s home on the city’s east side. Even with Harry and Leona working day jobs, money was tight. At least Aggie had achieved her dream of having a family. What more could she ask for? How about a pair of stockings?

By October 1926, Aggie grew tired of wearing Leona’s hand-me-down stockings. She went to Harry and asked for the money to buy a pair of her own. He told her they couldn’t afford them.

Incensed, Aggie said if he wouldn’t buy them for her, she’d get a job and buy them herself. It was an empty threat. She hadn’t worked outside the home in several years. What could she do to earn a living?

Before she could turn to the want ads, Evelyn Conners called. She and Aggie had remained close since meeting at the Salvation Army Home several years earlier. Evelyn worked at the Los Angeles Record and got Aggie a temporary job at the switchboard. Evelyn knew Aggie was qualified because they once worked together at the telephone company.

Leona and Aggie

Aggie enjoyed being at the Record, and she hoped to stay through the New Year. She got lucky. Gertrude Price was the women’s editor and wrote an advice column under the name Cynthia Grey. Each year, Gertrude organized a food drive for the city’s poor, and she needed help to fill and deliver the baskets. She asked Aggie if she would stay and help. Without hesitation, Aggie accepted; it meant seven or eight more weeks of steady work.

Aggie & Getrude surrounded by Christmas baskets

Aggie assumed she would return to her housewifely chores at in January 1927, but Gertrude had other plans.

Aggie–housewife

Her conscientiousness had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated. Gertrude offered Aggie a part-time job as her assistant. It didn’t pay as well as the switchboard, only five dollars per week. Once she did the arithmetic, Aggie realized she wouldn’t net a dime after she paid a babysitter to watch her kids. Why did she stay if she wasn’t making any money? Aggie didn’t know it yet, but she was in love with the newspaper business.

Throughout 1927, Aggie tackled each task that Gertrude handed her with enthusiasm. In return, Gertrude became her mentor and confidante.

By the time the 1928 holiday season rolled around, Aggie was a fixture at the Record. She again assisted Gertrude Price with the Christmas baskets program. The Underwoods’ financial woes were far from over; but if their holiday was lean, so be it. She felt fortunate to be surrounded by her family.

Ironically, even though Aggie cherished family life, she revealed few details about hers in her autobiography. In fact, she never mentions Harry by name, only referring to her unnamed husband. The reason is simple, she and Harry were divorced a few years before the publication of NEWSPAPERWOMAN. Aggie chose to highlight her professional achievements. 

Bob Hope and Aggie read each other’s autobiographies

Aggie’s omissions make sense when you consider her position at the time. She was still only a couple of years into her city editorship at the Herald. Personal details might negatively impact her career. I think perhaps the most important thing for Aggie was he desire never to be a “sob sister.” She didn’t want to tug at people’s heartstrings in the copy she wrote for the paper, and especially not in her autobiography. That said, I really wish she had made good on her plan to author a more complete autobiography in her retirement. She never got around to it.

It is no surprise she never wrote about an event that must have devastated her—the death of her sister, Leona, on December 6, 1928. Without Aggie’s input,, we can only speculate on what happened, and what impact it had on her.

The Underwoods

Like most families, the Underwoods had a work week routine. December 6 was a Thursday, so Leona dropped her niece and nephew off at the babysitter, as she usually did. While the rest of the family was out for the day, Leona consumed ant paste.

The principal ingredient is arsenic. Ant paste was a common poison found in most households. At twenty-two years old, Leona may have believed that taking poison would be a quick and easy death. She could not have been more wrong. Death by arsenic poisoning is excruciating. Depending on the dose, it can take hours or even days to kill.

Aggie’s established routine was to swing by the babysitter after work, pick up the children, and then go home. When Aggie arrived home, she found Leona. I cannot imagine how Aggie felt. Records show they transported Leona to Pohl Hospital on Washington Boulevard. They admitted her at 3:25 p.m. By 4:00 p.m. her body was in the county morgue. Why did Leona take her life? Her death certificate gives two reasons: “Love affair & financial difficulties.”

Leona’s death notice appeared in the Los Angeles Times the next day. The brief notice said they would hold funeral services on Saturday, December 8, 1928, in the chapel of Ivy H. Overholtser on South Flower Street.

Without input from Aggie, it is difficult to calculate the impact that Leona’s death had on her, but it must have been enormous. Did she feel guilty about failing to honor her mother’s dying wish for a second time? As tragic as Leona’s death was, with two children and a husband to care for, Aggie had no choice but to turn her attention toward the living.

NOTE: The holidays are not a joyous time for everyone. If you or someone you care about is in a crisis, please call 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline, or call the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-8255 to talk with a caring, trained counselor. It is free, confidential, and available 24/7.

His Girl Friday & The Front Page

Deranged L.A. Crimes celebrates reporter Agness “Aggie” Underwood this month in honor of the 121st anniversary of her birth on the 17th.

Aggie liked His Girl Friday (1940), in which Rosalind Russell portrayed a female newspaper reporter. I would love to show the film, but it is not in the public domain. Instead, listen to the 1941 Screen Guild radio version with Rosalind Russell, Cary Grant, and Ralph Bellamy reprising their movie roles.

Ralph Bellamy, Cary Grant & Rosalind Russell

Even though I can’t show the film version of His Girl Friday, I will show the 1931 version, The Front Page, based on the 1928 stage play.

I love the 1940 film for casting Russell as Hildy Johnson–a role originally written for a man–but the 1931 film is also excellent. Billy Wilder remade it in 1974, casting Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon in the starring roles.

Here is what TCM says about The Front Page (1931).

Chicago’s ace reporter Hildy Johnson wants to quit newspaper work and get married, but his editor, Walter Burns, is determined to keep him on the job. Hildy refuses to talk to Walter, knowing his persuasive powers, so Walter sets off a fire alarm outside the apartment of Hildy’s fiancée, Peggy Grant. Unable to resist, Hildy runs to the street, after which Walter corners him and takes him out for drinks. While the two men drink, Walter reminisces about the great stories that Hildy covered and paints a boring picture of married life. Hildy manages to escape, and drops in on the press room at the courthouse, where the reporters are waiting for the hanging of Earl Williams.

Hollywood Cliff Murder, Part 1

On April 2, 1940, Paul Cote was in his home on the 8700 block of Hollywood Blvd when a young man knocked on the front door. The young man was frantic. He pointed to a spot across the street where a body lay crumpled on the pavement. “Call an ambulance!  A young woman’s been hurt.”  Then the young man disappeared. Cole dialed the operator to summon emergency services and the police.  The woman was taken to Hollywood Receiving Hospital where Dr. G.E. Christian pronounced her dead. She had perished from a skull fracture, broken neck and other injuries. The dead woman was identified as Pearl Wessel.
pearl wesselClose on the heels of the first man’s visit to Cote’s home another young man, twenty year-old Alfred Dobriener of 1625 Sunset Plaza Drive, came to Cote’s door. He said that he’d been hiking in the hills above Franklin Avenue when he noticed an old car parked in an open space at the end of that street. From his vantage point, Alfred saw a man in the front seat and a man and a blond woman struggling in the back seat.

Alfred said, “The woman’s head kept bobbing in and out of the car as if she were being struck in the face.  Soon the man (from the backseat) shoved her from the car and she fell on the ground. The man, who was tall and dark, got out of the front seat and picked her up.  While she was still struggling, he dragged her to the edge of the bluff and shoved her over.  She did not scream.  The men got in the car and left.”

Alfred thought quickly and took down the license plate number of the car–and that is when he ran over to Cote’s house to get help. The police kept the name of the car’s registered owner to themselves until they could locate him and bring him in for questioning.

A third witness came forward. He said that he had seen a woman running down Franklin prior to Pearl’s fall. Was it Pearl?

suspects_hollywood cliff murderDetective Lieutenant S.R. Lopez of the the LAPD said that Pearl had either gone to the end of the bus line and hiked up Franklin to take in the view alone, or she had ridden up in the car with the two men to the top of the hill.  By virtue of its seclusion and spectacular views the spot was a local lover’s lane. But why would Pearl have gone there with two men?”

By the next day police had pieced together a little more of Pearl’s life.  She lived at 694 S. Hobart Blvd. where she roomed with Mrs. P.A. Boyle.  Mrs. Boyle provided detectives with some personal information about Pearl. She said, “Miss Wessel had an income from some property near St. Louis, Missouri and sometimes she took special secretarial jobs (in Los Angeles). She has been happy visiting Southern California.”

Pearl had been dividing her time between Los Angeles and St. Louis since 1928. Sh had gone to St. Louis to celebrate the New Year and then returned to Los Angeles shortly afterward and resumed her work as a stenographer.

On April 4th, police had two men in custody for questioning in Pearl’s death; Lesley Al Williams and Alberni Roggers. Lesley, a self-proclaimed “mixologist” was the registered owner of the car and he was arrested at his home at 815 W. Sixth Street and booked on suspicion of murder.

Lesley’s wife Daisy, from whom he appeared to be estranged, spoke to police from her home at 727 S. Olive Street. She told the police that Lesley was chummy with another bartender named Alberni Roggers. The police busted him at his home at 833 W. Ninth Street.

Lesley and Alberni both denied having any connection with Pearl. At the death scene Police Chemist Ray Pinker found scuff marks consistent with the witnesses statements that Pearl had been dragged from the parked car before going over the cliff. Tire marks discovered at the scene matched the tires on Lesley’s car.

Ray Pinker, Police Chemist c. 1935 Photo courtesy LAPL

Ray Pinker, Police Chemist c. 1935
Photo courtesy LAPL

The evidence against the two men, particularly Lesley, was damning. Still, it was possible that police had arrested the wrong men. What if the witness had transposed or mistaken a number on the license plate of the car?

NEXT TIME: Another suspect is identified as the investigation into Pearl’s murder continues.

Jealousy and Gin

ruth maloneBy December 1927 twenty-three-year-old Ruth Malone had been in Los Angeles for about 4 months. She’d fled Aberdeen, Washington to escape her husband John, a jealous and violent drunk. She used her mother’s address at 244 North Belmont Avenue, but lived with a girl friend in an apartment at 9th and Flower. She kept the address of the apartment a secret just in case John tried to find her. She worked half a mile from the apartment at a drug store on East Twelfth between Santee Street and Maple Avenue. Ruth had spent the last few months seriously contemplating divorce but she wasn’t in any hurry to confront John.

It was 11 o’clock on the morning of Wednesday, December 7, 1927 and Ruth had started her work day when John turned up. She hadn’t even known he was in town. He was obviously drunk and made a scene. He wanted Ruth to come back to him, but she wasn’t interested in a reconciliation and John stormed out. He returned at noon and began to plead with Ruth.  Again she accused him of being drunk. He copped to it–in fact he said that he’d been drinking for three weeks straight and would stay drunk until Ruth agreed to come back to him. She refused. He pulled a revolver from his pocket. Ruth clocked it and made a dash for the rear of the store. Her escape route was cut off by some partitions–she was trapped. As twenty people watched John began firing and each shot hit its mark. Ruth was hit in the chest, face and hip. Satisfied that he’d killed her, John turned the gun on himself. One bullet entered his chest a few inches above his heart and then he raised the weapon to his head and fired.malone shooting in store

The police were called and when Detectives Lieutenants Hickey, Stevens and Condaffer, of the LAPD’s Central Station Homicide Squad arrived they found Ruth dead and John nearly so. Detective Hickey was shocked when John summoned the strength to say “I’m sorry I killed her, but give me a smoke before I croak, will you?” Hickey later said that even though John believed he was dying his first thought appeared to be of a cigarette. The detectives also found an incoherent note in John’s pocket, the ramblings of a man driven to murder by jealousy and gin.

malone_near deathInvestigators learned that John was 29-years-old and that he had an arrest record. He’d been busted in Oakland on October 10, 1917 on a burglary charge and later in San Francisco for violation of the State Poison Act (a drug charge). John had been in Los Angeles for a few weeks. He was staying at a hotel just a few blocks away from Ruth’s workplace.

As John lay in a bed in General Hospital fighting for his life, a Coroner’s jury charged him with Ruth’s slaying. If he lived he would be tried for her murder. Ruth was buried in Graceland Cemetery following a private funeral at Mead & Mead undertaking parlor.

It was touch and go for a few weeks but John pulled through and by February 1928 he was well enough to stand trial. L.V. Beaulieu, his court-appointed attorney, unsuccessfully attempted to use John’s three week long drinking spree as an excuse for the murder but the judge sustained the prosecution’s objections. Alcohol induced amnesia was a poor defense strategy. The jury quickly returned a guilty verdict with no recommendation for leniency. Under the law Judge Fricke had no alternative but to sentence John to be hanged. He was transported to San Quentin to await execution.malone_hickman2On March 20, 1928 John and several other death row inmates welcomed a newcomer to their ranks, William Edward Hickman. Hickman, who had given himself the nickname “The Fox” had been sentenced to death for the brutal mutilation murder of 12-year-old Marion Parker, a crime he had committed only ten days after John had killed Ruth. The two dead men walking had met in the Los Angeles County Jail while each was awaiting trial. John cornered Hickman on one occasion and blamed him for inciting the public to a renewed interest in capital punishment–resulting in his own date with the hangman.

malone_mug2John’s sentence was automatically appealed but the State Supreme Court upheld the death penalty. Judge Fricke re-sentenced John to hang. Unless something changed he would meet his end on December 7, exactly one year to the day since Ruth’s murder. John had evidently changed his mind about dying since his suicide attempt because he was part of a Thanksgiving escape plot that failed. To prevent him from any further attempts to tunnel out of San Quentin he was moved to the death cell.

As a condemned man, John’s final requests were honored. He was given a record player and listened repeatedly to “I Want to Go Where You Go” until it was time for him to climb the thirteen steps to the scaffold. One year before, just moments after killing Ruth, John’s first thought had been for a cigarette. Nothing had changed in the year since. John was still smoking as guards placed the black cap over his head. As he dropped he quipped: “Well boys, I got a run for this one.” The cigarette was jerked from his lips. Three witnesses, one of them a guard, fainted. John Joseph Malone was pronounced dead 12 minutes later.

Jealously and gin make a lethal cocktail.

A Death on Mulholland Drive, Conclusion

slaying deniedBefore they even had a positive ID on the coyote ravaged body of a woman found on Mulholland Drive police were certain that it was Barbara Mauger, a young waitress who had run away from Philadelphia with her married lover, Russell Beitzel.  There was a wedding ring found on the corpse and numbers inside the ring led police to a pawn shop where they confirmed that a woman calling herself Mrs. Burnholme had signed the ticket; and there was a broken string of beads found near the body that matched a necklace known to have been worn by Barbara on the last day she was seen by her neighbors.

Russell’s denials were having little effect on the cops; he was behaving like a guilty man. He told conflicting stories about Barbara’s whereabouts and he’d given away some of their household items, and had mailed a package of her clothing to a fictitious address in Arizona. Why on Earth would an innocent man do something like that? Beitzel appeared to be on the verge of a move—in fact he seemed to have developed an interest in learning the Spanish and Chinese languages because several books on both were found in his bedroom.

A break in the case came when Rex Welch, the police chemist, tested a hair sample found on some of the Mauger girl’s clothing, the clothing that had been sent to Arizona, and it appeared to be a match for the hair on the body of the young woman in the brush on Mulholland Drive. The chemist was willing to testify that based on the hair analysis the body he had examined was that of Barbara Mauger.beitzel science

The coroner also issued an appeal to all local dentists to check their files from September 1927 to June 24, 1928 for a record of dental work for Mrs. Barbara Burnholme, the name under which Mauger had been living with Beitzel. The body had three teeth which contained temporary fillings and others that had cavities which indicated further dental work was needed.

The evidence against Russell was stacking up, and LAPD detectives continued to probe their chief suspect with questions regarding Barbara’s whereabouts.

Beitzel stuck to his story that he and Barbara had gone out for a Sunday drive and that they’d had a squabble. He said Barbara got out of the car in a huff and refused to ride home with him so he left her and never looked back. What sort of person drives off and leaves a pregnant woman on a lonely stretch of road at dusk?  He could have given her a while to cool off and then returned to fetch her, but he never did; and when the cops questioned him he didn’t seem to be particularly concerned about her welfare.

mauger pixInvestigators located B.T. Redell, the driver of a private rental limousine, who identified Beitzel as the passenger he took to Mulholland Drive on July 1, only one week after the murder; but even when he was confronted with the chauffeur’s story Russell remained a cool customer, he vehemently denied ever meeting Redell and he met every accusation with a denial.

For his part, Redell recalled every minute of the ride out to the hills. He said that Beitzel had hired him shortly after noon on July 1st at the intersection of Fifth and Broadway.

According to Redell:

“He (Beitzel) was nervous when he first got the car and told me that he had a cache of liquor in the hills. He said he wanted to check it over.”

On the face of it, it was a plausible story. Prohibition was still in effect in 1928 so the notion that a man might have a few cases of illegal hooch hidden in a remote spot wasn’t enough to make the limo driver bat an eye.

Beitzel directed Redell to a brush covered spot along Mulholland and told him to pull over; then he exited the car then walked away from the road into some underbrush.

Redell said:

“He came hurrying back in about twenty minutes and was more nervous than ever. He told me to drive away as fast as possible and while we were driving he smoked cigarette after cigarette and kept looking back over his shoulder. He said someone had found his liquor and was after him.”

Following the odd drive out to the alleged booze cache, Beitzel directed Redell back to Fifth and Figueroa where he paid the driver $9, and then walked north.

It didn’t seem to matter how many details Redell recalled about his his interaction with Beitzel, the suspect never blinked.

In the long run it wouldn’t matter whether Russell blinked or not because the D.A. was confident that he had enough to successfully prosecute him for Barbara’s murder. In fact the D.A. briefly considered charging him with the death of Barbara’s unborn child, whose tiny bones had been found near its mother, but decided that the additional charge might result in a legal tangle.

The Grand Jury agreed with the D.A. and after hearing only a few witnesses they handed down an indictment for first degree murder—a charge which carried a possible death penalty.

While in jail awaiting trial Russel wrote to Barbara’s father, Henry Mauger, Russell expressed his belief that  she was still alive:

“Dear Harry:  I don’t know how you feel toward me for what has happened but I know you do not believe I killed Barbara.  I loved Barbara too much—too much to hurt her, anyway.  I still love her and I do not believe she is dead.”

Beitzel’s letter arrived in the post at almost the same moment as the Mauger’s received a telegram from the LAPD requesting that they come out to identify their daughter’s remains.

Upon their arrival in L.A. the Mauger’s were taken to the place where the body presumed to be Barbara’s was found—the couple wisely refused to look at photos of the woman’s   body and of the baby bones found nearby.

Mr. Mauger said:

“Our only hope is that justice will be done.  If Beitzel did this awful crime, then he should be punished.   If the evidence proves that he did not do it, I still will believe that he was indirectly responsible for her death. If justice is done, that is all I can ask.”

Local wildlife is brutally efficient in reducing  the flesh and blood of a human body to bones, and there were so few bits of flesh left clinging to the corpse that the Mauger’s made the identification of their daughter through their knowledge of her dental work and from the general shape and structure of her skull.

Beitzel’s trial began with a fight over whether or not a large photo of the victim’s remains would be displayed in the courtroom—the D.A. won the skirmish and everyone in the courtroom was privy to the revolting photo.

Another black mark against Beitzel was his attorney’s badgering of Barbara’s father over his identification of her remains.  Mr. Mauger was visibly shaken during his testimony saying: “This is a terrible ordeal for me.”

After deliberating for less than one hour the jury of five women and seven men returned to the courtroom to deliver their verdict. They found Russell Beitzel guilty of first degree murder and offered no recommendation for leniency, which meant that the convicted man would hang.

Beitzel was sentenced to die on the gallows on November 30, 1928; however, the condemned man appealed his sentence which resulted in a delay while the California Supreme Court decided whether or not to grant a new trial.  On April 17, 1929 the Supreme Court denied Beitzel’s appeal and he was re-sentenced to hang—his new date with the gallows was August 2, 1929.

In a desperate eleventh hour attempt to save himself from the noose, Russell Beitzel stated that he had obtained new evidence which suggested that Barbara Mauger was alive and had returned to the east coast.  He also contended that the body found in the Hollywood Hills was not that of his former lover. Beitzel’s plea was sufficient to motivate L.A.’s District Attorney, Buron Fitts, to re-examine the case on the slight chance that someone else had murdered Barbara after Russell had left her–or that the body wasn’t hers at all.

According to Beitzel the reason that Barbara was in hiding and would not come forward had to do with pending charges against her for embezzlement for money she had stolen from the Philadelphia department store where she and Russell had been co-workers.  Barbara’s father disputed the claim of embezzlement and, in fact, the department store had only filed charges against Beitzel.

Governor Young reviewed the findings in Beitzel’s case and was convinced that the man was guilty of murder and that his execution should go forward.

Convicted murderer, Russell Beitzel getting a shave in prison as other inmates look on, Los Angeles, Calif., 1928. [Photo courtesy of UCLA Digital Collection]

Convicted murderer, Russell Beitzel getting a shave in prison as other inmates look on, Los Angeles, Calif., 1928. [Photo courtesy of UCLA Digital Collection]

Described as cheerful, Russell St. Clair Beitzel spent his last hours on death row listening to his phonograph and studying Spanish and ancient history through the University of California extension courses he had been taking.  The L.A. Times slyly noted that the condemned man would be unable to complete the advanced courses for which he had recently registered.

As he ascended to the gallows Russell smiled at the crowd of approximately 30 people who had come to watch him die. He joked with the hangman and asked him if he wanted to make “a couple of practice drops” before going through with the actual execution–the hangman declined.  A black hood was placed over Beitzel’s head and a rope was tightened around his neck.  The trap was sprung at 10:04 a.m. and he was pronounced dead fourteen minutes later.

Among Beitzel’s bequests was a letter to his former death row cell mate, Antone Negra. The letter said.

“Dear Tony–Love and kisses from the next world.  It won’t be long now.  Had telegram from Polly yesterday.  My smile is still with me and can’t be wiped off. My best wishes for your success.  Good-by Old Pal.”

In three postscripts Beitzel added:

“Tell the boys hello for me.

“Has Northcott** moved yet?

“Nice place here.  Plenty big enough for my handsprings, croquet, fox trotting or spin-the-plate”.

Despite his assertion that his smile couldn’t be wiped off, I’ll bet that when the trap opened up and sucked him into hell his grin was replaced by a tortured grimace.

**Gordon Stewart Northcott was tried and convicted for the torture murders of young boys in the infamous Wineville murder case. The case formed the basis for the 2008 film “The Changeling”.  Northcott was hanged at San Quentin on October 2, 1930.

A Death on Mulholland Drive, Part 2

Barbara Mauger

Barbara Mauger

On Thursday, August 2, 1928, a pair of Boy Scouts were hiking in the area of Stone Canyon above Mulholland Drive. They were curious about the buzzards circling in the sky above them. The scouts didn’t need to possess special wildlife badges to know that buzzards are generally the bearers of bad news for some unfortunate creature, so they took their concerns to Howard Rygaard, a Ranger at City Fire Patrol Station #1.  Upon investigation Rygaard found the nude, badly decomposed and partially dismembered body of a woman. The ranger phoned the police.

The condition of the woman’s body made an immediate identification impossible–she had been ripped apart by coyotes. Detectives found a couple of small clues at the scene: a broken strand of beads, a wedding ring, and shell casings from a .38 caliber revolver.

The detectives began their investigation with the wedding ring in which there was a number  that led them to a pawn shop on South Main Street. The ring had been had been pawned by a woman who identified herself as Mrs. Barber of 841 Golden Avenue. Then they located a missing persons report dated July 23, 1928 in which they found an interesting anonymous tip involving a man named Barber. The tipster said that Barber and his pregnant wife had been seen leaving together in a rented car, apparently to go for a Sunday drive, but when Mr. Barber had returned hours later he was alone.

Buried in the police report was the tipster’s name, Mrs. Gertrude Riebling of 1215 North Avenue 54 in Highland Park. Mrs. Riebling didn’t  know the Barbers–she’d heard the story from a friend of hers who was a neighbor of the missing woman and decided to contact the law.

LAPD Detective Lieutenants Condaffer, Sanderson and Stevens traced Mr. Barber to an engineering firm on Mateo Street where they took him into custody for questioning. He had been employed at the firm for only a few months and not under the name Barber–his co-workers knew him as Russell Burnholme.

During questioning Russell revealed that his surname wasn’t Barber and it wasn’t Burnholme either–he was actually Russell St. Clair Beitzel, a YMCA leader and college graduate from Philadelphia. The police followed up their chat with Russell with a few very enlightening telephone calls to the City of Brotherly Love.

principals in love tragedy

Barbara Burnholme was actually Barbara Mauger, a nineteen  year old waitress whom Russell had met while the two were working at Blauner’s Department Store in Philadelphia. Oh, and there was a Mrs. Beitzel but it wasn’t Barabara. Cops spoke with Jean Mellinger Beitzel, Russell’s legal wife and the mother of his four and five year old sons. Jean said that Russell had deserted her about a year earlier for the Mauger girl, and he’d stolen $300 from the department store’s safe to finance his new life. Jean intimated that marriage and fatherhood had weighed heavy on Russell and that was why he’d fled.

When the cops confronted him with a deserted wife, two kids and a $300 theft, Russell ‘fessed up. But he steadfastly maintained his innocence in Barbara Mauger’s death and kept repeating: “I did not kill her.”  His protestations of innocence were becoming harder for the police to believe because they were turning up a compelling amount of circumstantial evidence in Barbara’s murder, and all  of it pointed directly to Russell.slaying denied

The cops undoubtedly hoped to wrench a confession from Russell when they drove him out to the scene of Barbara’s death (at least they believed it was Barbara, the badly decomposed and mutilated body had not yet been positively ID’d), but according to a newspaper account the suspect was “calm, indifferent and even at times laughing, despite the stench and grewsomeness (sic)”.

In another effort to shake-up the suspect, the cops drove him to the undertaker’s parlor in Van Nuys where the mutilated remains were being held. Russell looked down at the corpse and said: “It looks as though it may have been her.”

NEXT TIME: Science leads to an identification of the dead body on Mulholland Drive as the case against Russell Beitzel continues to build.

A Death on Mulholland Drive, Part 1

Barbara

Barbara

On September 10, 1927 a young couple, fueled by love and $300 (equivalent to $4200 in today’s money) in stolen cash, left Philadelphia for Los Angeles to start fresh. The money would last long enough to get them to Los Angeles and provide them with a stake sufficient to find a place to live and get settled. The pair moved a couple of times before they located the perfect apartment in a bungalow court slightly northwest of downtown at 841 Golden Avenue. New lives occasionally call for new identities, so the couple became Barbara and Russell Burnholme.

Barbara was at home during the day while Russell was at work so the neighbors and local tradesmen got to know her the best. Barbara was well-liked by the people in her new life.  She had a ready smile and a sweet manner and when it became evident that she and Russell were going to become parents the neighbors were thrilled for her.  Their neighbors never thought twice about the reasons for the Burnholme’s move from Philadelphia to Los Angeles; hell, most people in L.A. were transplants.

During her last trimester Barbara busied herself nesting, doing the sorts of homey things that young mothers-to-be frequently do when the birth of a child is imminent. She sewed baby clothes, fixed up the little apartment and planted flower boxes because she wanted everything to be perfect for the baby’s arrival. During the weeks leading up to her due date Barbara was given a kitten by the local grocer, the small Burnholme family was complete.

At 10:00 a.m. on June 24, 1928, Mrs. Morris Allen, one of the Burnholme’s neighbors saw Barbara and Russell getting into a rented roadster.  It was a nice day for a Sunday drive and the parents-to-be were wise to take advantage of an opportunity to spend time alone,  they might not have another chance for a long time. Russell had borrowed a gun from a friend and it was his intention to go out along a stretch of Mulholland Drive and shoot a few rabbits while Barbara put her feet up and enjoyed the summer air above the city.

No matter how excited an expectant mother is about her future the last few weeks of pregnancy can be incredibly uncomfortable. Discomfort can lead to a short fuse and a flood of hormonal emotions. Often times a new father, especially if it is his first child, can be left scratching his head and treading on egg shells.

Mrs. Allen lived across from Barbara and Russell at the bungalow court and she saw him return from the Sunday drive alone. When asked, Russell told his neighbors that Barbara had gone back east to have the baby; but that wasn’t the only story he told.

Russell also told people that he and Barbara had quarreled during  their Sunday drive and she had jumped from the car and had stubbornly refused to allow him to drive her home. It was quite a hike from Mulholland Drive to Golden Avenue, at least fifteen miles, and much of way home felt remote, even if the city lights could be seen twinkling in the distance. While the sun was still up hawks could be seen circling high in the blue skies waiting for the right moment to swoop down and make a meal of a rabbit or a mouse. After dark the mournful cries of local coyotes would shatter the silence and a person’s nerves; and the rustling of roadside brush would be unnerving as unseen creatures either hunted, or attempted to avoid becoming prey. If Russell had worried about Barbara’s safety it wasn’t enough to make him turn around and try to convince her to get into the car with him.

Over the next few days Mrs. Allen heard Russell moving about the little apartment whistling, and she saw him wrapping up some bundles for mailing. Nothing sinister in that, right?

NEXT TIME: Where’s Barbara?