California, G, 1942-1983, Undated

curly reddish-brown hair. In every
detail he fit the description of the man
found slain beside the young woman
in the Mojave Desert. And his finger-
prints soon definitely confirmed the
identification.

Richard Nowlen’s police file showed
a long record of arrests in Los Angeles,
Pasadena, Glendale and other Cali-
fornia areas. They included charges of
robbery, assault, kidnaping, drunk
driving, forgery, bad checks and pa-
role violation.

Nowlen had escaped from the Chino
camp on August 9th, nearly a month
before he was found slain. Two other
prisoners had escaped with him: Ron-
ald D. Hurley, doing time for forgery,
and Robert J. Skiba, in for robbery.
The latter two were recaptured within
a few days and returned to prison.

Deputies now picked up informa-
tion from a police informant about the
possible identity of the girl who had
been murdered with Nowlen. The tip
was based on the tattoo on the dead
woman’s thigh. It proved rewarding.

Garner petitioned the court for a visit

with Sondra

Within a couple of hours, Sheriff
Bland’s men established that the mur-
dered pony-tailed brunette was Pa-
tricia Hurley Skene, alias Pat Zelt-
man, alias Pat Cole, alias Margaret
Scott. She was 27 years old and the
wayward daughter of an eminently re-
spectable Los Angeles County family.
She also was the sister of Ronald Hur-
ley, who had escaped from Chino with
Dick Nowlen.

Pat’s police file showed she was con-
victed of. forgery in 1955 and given
five years’ probation. In the fall of
1958 she drew a year at the Los An-
geles County Women’s Facility at
Terminal Island, for possession of nar~-
cotics. She was paroled on July 22nd,
less than two months before being
gunned to death with her fiance in the
desert.

Inspector Oxnevad and Lieutenant
Keene lost no time in driving to Chino.
There, with the cooperation of Warden
E. J. Oberhauser, they investigated the
possibility that a prison feud had been
the underlying motive behind- the

desert murders. Next, they enlisted
the aid of parole officers to begin in-
terviewing all prisoners discharged or
paroled from Chino since August 9th.
That was the day Nowlen had escaped.

With the establishment of the prison
background to the murders, police heat
on the underworld produced results.
Officers now learned that Dick Now-

len and Pat Hurley had spent a week, |

possibly longer, with another ex-con,
Sam Stark, and his girl friend Sondra
Kay Grounds, 22, who passed as his
common-law wife. Stark lived on Doty
Avenue, in Lennox, near Hollywood
Park, but the house was now vacant
and neighbors said the two couples had
not been around the place since Friday
night.

Stark, 30, had been convicted for for-
gery, had served his time, and was now
on parole. He also was awaiting trial
on another forgery charge. From the
best information available, it looked
as if Dick Nowlen and Patricia Hurley
Skene had left with Sam Stark and
Sondra Grounds on a holiday week-

Sondra was granted 15 minutes with him on the phone

end outing. They were believed to be
traveling in Sondra’s gray, 1949 Ford
two-door sedan. Los Angeles police
and Sheriff Bland issued a pickup order
for Stark and Sondra. Their Lennox
house was staked out, in case they re-
turned.

Now occurred one of those develop~
ments which occasionally upset even
the best-run homicide investigations.
A man from Colton belatedly came
forward and told police he had seen
a man and a woman lying on the
ground at the murder scene early on
the morning of Sunday, September 6th.
He said he stopped, got out of his car
and walked toward them, but he re-
mained some distance away when he
assumed they were just sleeping. He
drove on and forgot about it, till the
publicity on the case prompted him
to report what he had seen.

The witness successfully stood his
ground against a battery of questioners.
He said it was 8 a.m, when he saw the
supposedly sleeping couple. He also
recalled seeing the row of pop bottles
stuck in the sand. The officers took him
to the vicinity in a car and he directed
them to the precise spot where the
bodies had lain.

This upset the timetable of the case,
as theoretically reconstructed thus far.
It also cast serious doubt on the in-
formation previously supplied by the
grocer.

Hawthorne police finally corralled
residents of the East 120th Street ad-
dress which had been scribbled on
the notepaper found under Nowlen’s
body. The house was occupied by Mr.
and Mrs. Alan Brown, who shared
their apartment with another couple,
Mr. and Mrs. Frank Cooper. Cooper,
34, had a record of burglary arrests.

The Browns, deputies were soon con-
vinced, were in the clear. Cooper de-
nied knowing Nowlen or Pat Skene, but
when ordered to empty his pockets, he
brought out a notebook containing
paper identical to that found under
Richard Nowlen’s body.

Asked for an explanation, he said,
“Maybe I wrote that address. I give
my address to lots of people. I wrote
it down for a fellow I met in a bar
about a week ago. I invited him to
drop up fora drink. I don’t remember
his name. I don’t have anything to
hide. I don't know how my address
came to be on that murdered guy.”

The Browns vouched for the fact
that Cooper and his wife had been with
them during an extended holiday week
end, but Cooper was held for further
investigation.

“I’m convineed he knows more than
he’s telling,” Lieutenant Keene told
Sheriff Bland. “He may not be one
of the killers, but Cooper was in Chino
at the same time as Nowlen. He claims
he doesn't know him. Maybe he doesn’t
but I think it’s too much of a coinci-
dence that Nowlen would have been
carrying his address by accident.”

The alibi for Cooper supplied by him-

self and the Browns checked out, but
a check of the names in his notebook
showed several were ex-convicts, with
whom he was forbidden to associate
by terms of his parole.

Fear was the universal reaction when
detectives contacted these ex-convicts.
Some of them said that Cooper did
know both Nowlen and Sam Stark.
One ex-convict said he knew Cooper
had been at Stark’s house the Friday
night before the slayings.

This line of investigation led depu-
ties to yet another ex-con who ad-
mitted that both he and Cooper had
been at Sam Stark’s place Friday
night. Nowlen and Pat Skene were
there, too, he said, as well as several
other people.

When confronted with this informa-
tion, Cooper decided to open up. He
made it clear that his original reluc-
tance to tell them all he knew stemmed
not from fear of being nailed on a
murder rap, but from fear of trouble
with his parole officer. Cooper said
he had met Nowlen and Pat Skene at
Stark’s, but he insisted he had written
his address for another ex-con he met
there, a man from North Carolina, not
for Nowlen.

When detectives had sorted out the
welter of conflicting information they
had compiled, they obtained a clear
pitcure of the events of Friday night.
The meeting at Stark’s house, they
now knew, had been a conclave of ex-
cons and small-time hoods for the
purpose of setting up a floating check-
forgery and holdup network.

Sam Stark and Sondra Grounds now
became the prime suspects in the mur-
der of Dick Nowlen and Pat Skene. An
APB was broadcast for their arrest on
sight, on suspicion of murder. Au-
thorities had reason to believe they
had fled to Mexico. This was con-
firmed when they learned that a friend
had received a letter from Sondra,
postmarked Ciudad Obregon, in Sonora.

Mexican police in that city were re-
quested to run a check on American
visitors. Shortly they reported that
a newly married American couple was
staying at a local hotel. Inspector Ox-
nevad and Lieutenant Wayne, armed
with warrants for the pair, left at
once for Sonora, arriving in Ciudad
Obregon on September 17th.

Accompanied by local officers, the
police chief escorted the American
officers to the hotel. There they ar-
rested the surprised fugitives. The
American officers also were given a
surprise.

Sondra’s husband, it developed, was
not the elusive Sam Stark. He was
Stark’s pal, Lawrence “Chris” Garner.
Sondra explained casually that Sam
had come to Mexico with them, but she
split up with him soon afterwards.
Sam went back to the States, and she
and Chris were married in Guaymas
on September 15th.

Neither Sondra nor Garner would
talk about the murder of Dick Nowlen

and Pat Skene. But the Ciudad Obre-
gon police chief had a pleasant sur-
prise for the American officers.

“{ Jearned this man had sold a .45
automatic a few days ago,” he said.
“We have recovered it. I have it at
headquarters.”

From papers in Lawrence Garner's
possession at the time of the arrest,
Inspector Oxnevad learned Garner’s
last address in San Bernardino. He
wired this to Sheriff Bland and depu-
ties were sent to search the place. In
the Garner apartment they discovered
Pat Skene’s purse and shoes and Dick
Nowlen’s jacket and wallet. Lawrence
Christopher Garner was then formally
charged with murder.

He and Sondra were flown back to
San Bernardino. Under questioning,
following their arrival, Sondra cracked
first. Soon she began to talk. Accord-
ing to the officers who interrogated her,
Sondra claimed Sam Stark had shot
Nowlen and Pat Skene after an argu-
ment. She and Chris Garner, the girl
insisted, were merely innocent by-
standers, and fled in fear for their lives.

It all began, Sondra said, when
Patty and Dick decided to get mar-

Insp. Oxnevad noted some discrepancies
in Garner’s story of the desert deaths


ried and selected Las Vegas as the
place. All five of them, in Sondra’s
gray Ford, then started out for Vegas.
They had planned to finance their
friends’ honeymoon with stickups.

They stopped in the desert to in-
dulge in target practice, Sondra was
quoted. It was during this stop that
Sam Stark became involved in an
argument with Dick. He shot both
Nowlen and Patty before Sondra and
Chris realized what was happening.

It was an interesting story, but Son-
dra’s listeners doubted its accuracy.
Subsequent developments proved their
doubts were well founded.

It was Garner himself who supplied
the proof. Inspector Oxnevad and
Lieutenant Keene, together with other
deputies, had found numerous incon-
sistencies in Garner’s answers to their
questions. Repeatedly, they took- him
back over the same ground. Finally,
under intensive interrogation, he ad-
mitted he alone had been the trigger-
man in the double shooting. Sam Stark,
he now said, had not even been a mem-
ber of the wedding party. Garner was
to have been Dick Nowlen’s best man
at the wedding. He got out of the job
by killing the prospective bride and
groom.

At this point, the story of the grocer
was proved to have no bearing on the
murder of Nowlen and Pat Skene.
Chris Garner stated positively that
he had shot the couple at 6:30 on Sun-
day morning. That was about 26
hours before the grocer had seen the
suspicious foursome in his store.

Garner said the four set out for Las
Vegas in the early hours of Sunday
morning, after attending a party in
Los Angeles on Saturday night. Chris
and Sondra had agreed to be best man
and bridesmaid at the wedding of
Dick and Pat. Afterwards, the two
men planned to pull a few stickups in
and around Las Vegas, to finance the
honeymoon.

Chris, however, began to chicken
out on the deal, the officers quoted him.

On learning last-minute appeal failed,
Garner said, “I am doomed to the gas
chamber for a crime I did not commit.”

During a stop for food at El Monte, he
told Dick he had decided he wanted
no part of the stickup plans. According
to Garner, Dick then threatened dire
harm to Garner’s family if Chris didn’t
go through with the deal as planned.

Garner’s story, as disclosed by the
investigating officers went as follows:

“T didn’t like Dick Nowlen anyway.
When I told him to count me out of the
heist jobs, he threatened to hurt my
family. That’s when I made up my
mind to kill him,

“When we got to the desert, I looked
around for a good spot. Dick had the
gun—his .45. I never even owned a
gun, so I had to get his away from him.
We stopped to stretch our legs and
I told him I'd like to try some target
shooting with the .45. We went off a
little way from the girls and we both
shot at some pop bottles we’d bought.
The girls were sitting in the car.

“T suddenly turned around and shot
Nowlen in the groin. He fell down.
He begged for mercy, but I shot him in
the head. That finished him. I went
back to the car and told Pat there’d
been an accident and that I’d shot
Dick.

“She jumped out of the car and ran
to where he lay. She took his head

in her lap and held him in her arms.
She cried,.‘Baby! Baby!’ and she kept
cursing me. So I shot her. The one
shot killed her. ‘

“Then Sondra and I started away in
the car. We talked it over and then
we went back and took the identifica-
tion off the bodies.”

Chris Garner later consented to re-
turn to the scene of the murders and
there, in the presence of officers and
witnesses, he reenacted the shooting.

Sam Stark, still wanted for murder,
was captured on September 24th. The
grand jury, on October 6th, indicted
Lawrence Christopher Garner and
Sondra Grounds Garner for murder.
On October 13th, the district attorney
made a motion, which was granted, to
drop the murder charge against Sam
Stark. Investigation, the district at-
torney said, had showed that the evi-
dence did not warrant prosecution.

The trial of Chris and Sondra
Garner, in May of 1960, was the first
in San Bernardino County to employ
California’s new system of having the
jurors determine the penalty for the
crime. Under this system, the jury
first must determine the guilt or in-
nocence of the accused. Then the
same jury meets again to deliberate

and decide on the sentence for him.

Garner’s defense in his trial was
unique. It hinged almost exclusively
on his contention that Dick Nowlen was
“an arrogant character” who had at-
tempted to force him into participating
in planned robberies. It came as no
surprise to anyone that the jury was
not swayed by this remarkable expla-
nation for two murders. They found
Lawrence Garner guilty as charged,
then retired to consider what punish-
ment was merited by his crime.

These deliberations consumed three
days. On May 18, 1960, the venire-
men came in with their verdict. This
also had a unique quality, for in reality
it was two verdicts, two sentences of
death for two murders.

To a layman, this might seem super-
fluous. Actually, such sentences are
motivated by desire to make it as diffi-
cult as possible for a convicted slayer
to avoid paying the penalty. He might
have wriggled out of one sentence of
death. It would be much more diffi-
cult to win mercy on two death sen-
tences.

Sondra, also convicted on two counts
of first-degree murder, was sentenced
to life imprisonment.

Now began the usual series of ap-

peals which stay the hand of justice,
seemingly interminably. In addition
to the routine motions in behalf of
a condemned man, Garner made re-
peated pleas for revision of California
prison practices.

Sounding for all the world like a so-
cial reformer, he called seriously for
amendments which would permit con-
nubial relations between married pris-
oners. He cited Mexico, and a few
other Latin-American countries, as a
precedent, but he was quite vague
when pressed for statistics to prove
that this had accomplished anything
worthwhile, other than the gratifica-
tion of physical urges.

When Garner became convinced that
the state was not going to change its
laws in time to do him any good, if
ever, he submitted, through his attor-
neys a 12-page petition for one “final
moment of personal contact” in what
he termed a “non-conjugal visit.”

Now he said he was asking simply
that his wife and crime partner, Son-
dra, be allowed to see him in a San
Quentin visiting room before his exe-
cution, the latest scheduled date for
which was September 4, 1962.

Garner’s petition was referred to
Judge Thomas F. Keating in Marin
County Superior Court. In it Garner
urged that other inmates, including
the condemned, be permitted visits
from their wives, His case, of course,
would require special consideration be-
cause of the fact that his wife was im-
grisoned. Only a court order could
effect her transportation to San Quen-
tin. *
Garner had a precedent to cite for
the privilege he was asking. Julius and
Ethel Rosenberg, executed as spies,
“were granted a last and parting meet-
ing before being put to death.”

Reportedly, Garner's petition was a
moving document, but it did not suc-
ceed in persuading a judge to grant his
plea. One of the judges reportedly
termed it, “unrealistic, improper and
illegal.”

An unprecedented compromise con-
cession, however, was granted the con-
demned man. Garner and his wife were
told that they could talk together on
the phone for 15 minutes. Arrange-
ments were made, and at 10 a.m. on
Friday, August 3lst, Garner was taken
from his cell to the office of Associate
Warden Louis S. Nelson and left there
with only one guard.

At the same moment, in the Wom-
en’s Prison at Corona, accompanied by
Acting Superintendent May Buwalda,
Sondra Garner was awaiting the call.
The connection was made and the
guards thoughtfully stood at a discreet
distance while the couple talked.

“Everybody bent over backwards for
us,” Garner said later, when the pre-
cious fifteen minutes were over. “I
have no complaints and I am deeply
grateful.” He added, “I love my wife
more than anything in the world. I

would like to see her freed, so that she
can live a decent, constructive life.”

According to Acting Superintendent
Buwalda, Sondra appeared completely
composed during the telephone conver-
sation, but she was “somewhat upset
afterwards.” Sondra told her they had
both expressed the hope that another
stay of execution would be granted.

But on September 3rd, appeals by
Garner’s counsel, Attorney Gregory
Stout, for a stay of execution and a
writ of habeas corpus were turned
down by Federal Judge Alfonso J.
Zirpoli.

On learning of this decision, Attor-
ney Stout rushed to a telephone and
wired to U.S. Supreme Court Justice
John M. Harlan a six-foot-long peti-
tion for a writ. At 9 a.m. on September
4th, a scant hour before the time set
for Garner’s execution, Justice Harlan
denied the petition.

“T am doomed to the gas chamber for
a crime I did not commit,” Garner said,
when told of the denial.

Attorney Stout then made a desper-
ate last-minute plea to Chief Judge
Richard Chambers of the U.S. Circuit
Court of Appeals. This also was turned
down.

Garner’s last act was to bequeath his
eyes to the University of California
Medical School. He had requested that
both a Catholic and a Jewish chaplain
be permitted to spend his last hours
with him. This request was granted.
San Quentin Warden Fred R. Dickson
said Garner appeared “unusually calm”
during his final hours.

At 10 a.m. on September 4, 1962, ac-
companied by Father John Mullen and
Rabbi I. L. Freund, 30-year-old Law-
rence Christopher Garner walked into
the gas chamber. As the guards swiftly
strapped the condemned man into the
chair, Warden Dickson asked him if
there was anything he wished to say.

Garner said quietly, “I think every-
thing has been said that could be said.”

At 10:04 the lethal pellets were
dropped. Eight minutes later, at 10:12,
Lawrence Christopher Garner was
pronounced dead. It was 23 minutes
after the last of a long series of legal
appeals in his behalf had been denied.

In the Women’s Prison at Corona,
Sondra Grounds Garner, the only liv-
ing member of the ill-fated wedding
party, must serve her appointed term.
To cheer her confinement, she has two
warm memories—a two-day honey-
moon in Mexico, and a telephone call.

oe

Epitor’s Nore:

The names, Sam Stark, Mr. and
Mrs. Alan Brown and Mr. and Mrs.
Frank Cooper, as used in the fore-
going story, are not the real names
of the persons concerned. These per-
sons have been given fictitious
names to protect their identities.

61


.rdino) September 4, 1962

BN i, ee es ee ‘a AS Se Ra iso
GARNER, Lawrence, white, gassed CASP (San Bern

HE sur

heat w

_ © trucks and

— S : 4 _ checking t

Dick and Patricia made a handsome
couple as they sped toward Las Vegas
to get married . . . But they didn’t
look so good when they were found
lying in the hot desert ‘sands, side
by side, two bullets in him and one.
slug in the middle of her forehead,

All the hoods and their

molls came to the party—set
to plot a crime war against

the world... But before they —

could get started-they |

began killing each other...

rh e
iat

At murder scene, killer
and his bride, center
of group, tell Sheriff
Bland, right, and other
officers a grim story of
murder, as movies and
stills are taken of them.

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Tryst of Doom

[Continued from page 25]

picture of Gireth, propped against a vase
of red carnations. Across the room was a
portable phonograph, its necdle resting on
the Debussy record,

Three empty shells from a .25 caliber
automatic pistol were on the floor beside
the bed. The weapon itself lay a finger’s
length from the girl’s right hand. The
room had been carefully cleaned and put
in order and there were no crimson stains
anywhere except on the bed. Undoubt-
edly, the pretty victim had been shot
while she slept.

The motive? At this writing, no reason
has been definitely assigned to the case.
Investigation revealed that the girl had
evidently acquired a new suitor to take
the place of Gireth, Yet it was subse-
quently learned that she had returned a
ring given her by this new friend,

Another point against the theory of
jealousy was made by Gireth himself
when he declared that he had encouraged
Dorena to see other men, He explained
that she was young and that he had no
exclusive right to her time and attention.

St, police theorized, if Gireth feared
he was about to be forced from the virl's
life by a younger man, it was entirely

possible that jealousy might have moti-
vated the slaying. To be scorned by the
girl he so adored would naturally be
humiliating: to the man who had so many
friends in the community. Whether this
would be a strong enough motive for
murder was problematical.

In talking with alienists, Gireth had this
to say: “Suddenly everything  over-
whelmed me. It was like an unknown
force inside me, goading me to do it.

“LT remember getting the gun. I don't
know what happened next. I didn’t feel
the gun kick but I know now that I must
have shot her.... three times.”

That statement, of course, tells “how”
more than “why.” Detectives felt that
perhaps Gireth himself did not know
exactly why he admittedly killed the girl
he loved, and that he would plead tem-
porary insanity. The more than 300 love
letters which passed between the two—
and which were held by police—spoke of
nothing but undying love. The missives
gave no definite clue as to why Dorena
was destined to die by the hand of her
sweetheart. ‘

On July 24 the grand jury indicted
Gireth on a charge of first degree murder,

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ing establishment and had them
copied.

A few days more and he produced
a set of travel orders for himself—
to which he signed the name of Major
General Hunter Liggett, and with
these took himself on to Paris.

In telling his story of this point in
his adventures some time later,
Stearns described in detail his ex-
periences upon his arrival in Paris.

“The military police passed me all
right,” he said. “But after I got into
Paris I found that a second lieutenant
led a sort of dog’s life. He had to
salute almost as much as a private.
So I went into a big shop and bought
a really good uniform and a lieutenant
colonel’s insignia. After that it was
a long time, really, before I had any
trouble.”

With the change in insignia, Stearns
adopted a new name, one that was to
become famous later as the tempo of
his operations increased.

.And this name—which he had en-
graved upon striking cards—was that
of “Lieutenant Colonel Harold F.
Sears, Inspector General’s Depart-
ment, U. S. A.”

It was a tribute to the audacity of
the deserter that he chose this branch
of the service, since in the United
States Army an officer of the In-
spector General’s Department, re-
gardless of his rank, is a sort of ef-
ficiency expert whose orders’ and
whose examinations for fraud take
precedence, no matter what rank may
be held by the representative of the
organization he approaches.

Consequently few could be found to
question a figure so imposing and
from such an important part of the
military system.

It was not long before Stearns,
while living in state in one of the
larger hotels, became acquainted with
a pretty mademoiselle named Rose,

WEALTHY CALIFORNIA FATHER WHO MURDERED Hs SWEETHEART

HERPLIAE LE FECT VE

white, gassed Calif.

who lived on the Left Bank of the
Seine, and who was connected with
the Paris underworld.

Gets a Staff

Through Rose, the deserter from
the AEF came into contact with a
nest of other deserters from the
American, British and Canadian
Armies who had aligned themselves
with the Apaches of Paris in various
forms of underground skullduggery.

Taking two other deserters from the
AEF, Stearns dressed one of them up
as a captain and the other as a ser-
geant. Having procured a U. S. Army
staff car by the simple device of
ordering it from a garage, sending the
driver on an‘errand and then stealing
and disguising the machine, it was
not long before Stearns appeared in a
truly grand state, with the phony
captain for his aide and the other de-
serter as his sergeant-chauffeur.

With this impressive entourage he
appeared in a French printing office
and ordered several thousand salmon
colored officers’ pay checks to be
printed. Once this order had been
delivered to the office he had rented,
Stearns turned these checks over to a
forger who made up such realistic
facsimiles of genuine officers’ pay
checks as to cause these to be cashed
all over France—the Army later mak-
ing the forgeries good in most cases as
an international gesture.

From his share in this fraud Stearns
got funds which permitted him to
move into the guarded precincts of
Paris society. Having new friends
whom he impressed greatly, it was
not long before he began to pull off
one astounding coup after another.

Learning that a quantity of blankets
and overcoats were to be sold as
salvage, Stearns drove up to the
warehouse in which they were con-
tained and with forged orders sold the

Be: si San

(Alameda Co.) on l-

entire contents of the warehouse to
a group of his French admirers—
U. S. Army trucks actually delivering
the goods in his behalf.

Using the same daring tactics a
little later he disposed of a battery of
American field pieces, limbers, am-
munition and caissons to the French
for junk—the Armistice supposedly
having made such weapons of war
useless forever.

But much more was to follow.

As time wore on some of his French
customers became _ suspicious of
Stearns, who like a Napoleon or a
Foch then decided that a bold stroke
was in order.

Inviting a group of the Prenchnwn
to be his guests, Stearns drove to the
camp of an engineer regiment near
Paris, commanded by a major fresh
from the States.

“Major,” said the impostor haught-
ily, “I am Colonel Sears of the In-
spector General’s Department. These
ladies and gentlemen are friends of
General Pershing. The general wants
them to witness a review of your great
regiment.”

“Very well, sir.”

Saluting smartly, the major gave
the necessary orders. A short time
later, under heavy packs and with

rifles, bayonets and helmets, the regi- _

ment of engineers passed in quick
step before Stearns and his party, the
deserter in officer's garb returning
their salutes with. perfect snap and
precision.

After this demonstration of author-
ity Stearns was in solid with his
French customers. Nor was be slow
to capitalize on that fact.

Sells the Subway

Evidences of America’s great wealth
and power were everywhere in
France, including docks, railroads,
warehouses, and factories which had

ila ~ od ‘a

dative yt es io%
sb

Done aly of of “Warne!

“wrneee

‘ (oe fratls tif + ar
ee y ye

eerrili ty a

sat Ft Md, gevane tayl tot

Fe ops, fivy 7] lee whe

acter 6


cen patna ne

been erected on French soil by the
rich and profligate Americans.

Consequently Stearns found cred-
ence for his story to the effect that
the United States had made a pur-
chase of the greater part of the Paris
subway, or Metro, as it was commonly
known.

With stock certificates he had
printed, the con man made an impres-
sive sales talk to a chosen few of his
French friends, telling them that his
country was anxious to return the
subway to France as quietly as pos-
sible, as a mark of the eternal friend-
ship ‘between the two nations.

Under pledge of secrecy Stearns
permitted them to purchase the Paris
subway for 500,000 francs.

One of the finest minor riots of
Paris occurred later when the pur-
chasers hired scores of new ticket
takers and sent them down into the
bowels of Paris to take over the
cashiers’ cages.

However, before this unhappy de-
nouement Stearns had consummated
the most daring feat of his entire
career by walking into the American
Army hospital at Neuilly, near Paris,
and selling the place lock, stock and
barrel to another group of French-
men.

During the interim Stearns had

purchased a small hotel for his Rose,
and in addition to this had charged
presents of jewels and furs for her at
many leading Paris department stores.
Rose reaped a good share of the
swindler’s profits.

But during all these. operations
Stearns was not able to shake off the
U. S.-Army authorities who were con-
ducting a dragnet search for the
phony officer who bobbed up in so
many places, always leaving financial
devastation behind him.

Once Stearns actually was arrested
and confined in the miltary prison at

re Sal j % A)
UT ME cae oN ED

No. 10 Rue St. Anne. He escaped by
the simple process of knocking a
sentry on the head and dressing nim-
self in an officer’s uniform that he
stole from a closet. While half the
military police in Paris were looking
for him he concealed himself by at-
tending a dinner given to General
Hart, commander of the Paris district,
spending a few moments in talking
with the general himself.

. A few days later Stearns was cap-
tured and was tried by court martial
and given’a long prison sentence at
Leavenworth.

When returned in handcuffs to the
United States he was confined in
Castle William on Governor’s Island
in New York Bay. After being on the
island less than a year he stole a
major’s uniform and rode to Man-
hattan on the ferry.

A few years later, having deter-
mined to serve his sentence, he sur-
rendered to army authorities and in
1932 the bars of the military prison
closed behind him. In 1934 he was
discharged for good behavior and
vanished from army history—leaving
behind him the record of having been
the most successful swindler of all
time to wear khaki.

However, it may be said of Stearns
that although he was gone he was not
forgotten. Indeed his operations to-
day furnish much of the experience
for safeguards which have been set
up to prevent the wearing of an army
officer’s uniform by an impostor—
these including means of making the
purchase of officers’ uniforms and in-
signia almost impossible without cer-
tificates of authority.

Also a system of identification and
recognition has been set up which
makes it reasonably certain that none
other shall equal the record set by
Harold Stearns—the buck private who
fooled the AEF.

BEEK 8 eT We No i i hee Gan

DEMANDS DEATH AND HELPS TO EXPEDITE

A wmawmeoe 4nAm

DEAD MAN

(Continued from page 16)

his horse, McKay laid his wallet on a
bench beside a hitching post. When he
looked for it, it was gone.

Several people had seen Bassett linger-
ing nearby but he, too, had disappeared
at about the same time as the purse. The
police were notified.

Bassett was maSter of a sloop plying
between Bridgeport and New London.
Hurrying to the wharf where the craft
was berthed, officers learned it had sailed
an hour before.

New London authorities were waiting
for the skipper when his sloop tied up
there. He was arrested and returned to
Bridgeport. The empty wallet was found
in his pocket.

Bassett admitted the theft, saying he
had given half the stolen money to Mrs.
Lorina Elizabeth Alexander, three times
married and the mother of four children,
who lived in the old Brewster carriage
factory at William Street and East Wash-
ington Avenue. Mrs. Alexander was ar-
rested. She swore that Bassett had given
her nothing.

* “He’s a bad man, a guilty man—guilty
enough to hang!” she cried.

Assistant City Attorney F. L. Holt,
Police. Chief W. E. Marsh and Detective
George Arnold, later head of Bridgeport’s
detective bureau, questioned Lorina on
her enigmatic statement. She finally told
an incredible story.

As she spoke, Marsh and Arnold sud-
denly realized that Frank Weinbucker,
28, a harmless town character known as
“Jack Rufus” and “Stuttering Jack,” had
not been. seen around in his regular
haunts for months. They began to take
notice of ‘the prisoner’s strange yarn.

On May 10, she told them, Weinbucker
came to her home in the old carriage

We! RR 29 in o> Lele i ane ee ee . _ buxe ne
SAY ee OM CONES Pek 2 mer, F Ke, Pe oi,
Me OSI Was Es GPA upacioehh ake ray ektee ee ; Sie RO

HIS OWN EXECUTION

Gireth, wealthy Glendale, Cal., jeweler, former foreign

correspondent, law student and the father of two sons,
would say when asked about his motive for murdering
Dorena Hammer, 21, his sweetheart, in a San Leandro
auto camp. Three days before his execution in the San
Quentin gas chamber, Gireth granted an interview to re-
porters (far left). Standing next to Warden Clinton Duffy,
he read a composition denouncing “erroneous statements”
about the reason for the slaying. But in an affidavit bear-
ing his family crest (center) he referred to “certain facts
of a purely personal nature. . .
handwriting” which will be given to “my two beloved boys
when they will be of age.” At his trial Gireth insisted that
he be condemned. In prison (left) he asked about details
of the gas chamber.
hasten his death by breathing deeply when he heard the
prison pellets dropping with a metallic sound. The night
before his execution, the slayer played classical records on
his phonograph. In the death chamber he helped a guard
strap him in the chair and then inhaled deeply.

Pcie wouldn’t understand,” was all that Leslie Bela

preserved in my own

Warden Duffy told him he could


the body of pretty Dorena Ham-

mer, 21-year-old Glendale, Calif.,
student, in a San Leandro auto court
: cabin, another squad of officers took
Leslie B. Gireth into custody in his
Fresno hotel. The 37-year-old married
man admitted calling police and he read-
ily confessed shooting the girl, his sweet-
heart, three times as she iy on the bed
of the cabin.

“It’s a long story. People wouldn’t un-
derstand it,” the dapper young jeweler
explained.

Official investigators agreed that “it
was a long story” and that they, at Icast,
didn’t “understand it.” According to
Gireth’s own story, he had shot the girl
two days before he called police. He had
spent the 48-hour period beside the bed,
playing over and over a phonograph rec-
ord of Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.” These
statements were substantiated by medical
examiners, who declared the girl had
died two days before police found the
body and by other residents of the auto
court who told police they had heard the

record played over and over at intervals
during the period described.

Police found the body carefully ar-
ranged on the bed. A bright red ribbon
tied neatly in a bow adorned the dead
girl’s brown hair. Facing her on a small
stand at the head of the bed was a framed

[Continued on page 52]

A S ONE squad of county police found

onsite atta

sy‘s E :
all ©The ‘victim's “‘aweetheart, Leslie
ner  Gtreth, California jeweler, is shown
ing é as he sat in Alameda county jail
the » while police continued thelr investl-.
and < of the strange mutder, The (2 “3
» playing occurred in the San Leandro aise a ERR

2 a OA DE
“re *

Ath

Case of the Missin

Kealy and Ruble
young woman who had
tration of George Willi

She recalled

interviewed the
taken the regis-

rted through a large stack

“This her?” he
The man nodde
“You say you sa

asked the manager.
“She was a model.”
w her on Wednes-

actually see her. But I knew
'& ears. That’s about all I rau

ed to Kealy:
Dull case? Th
eared fellow?”
asked the club em-
ness did this fellow

ser explained that he had
replace a washer on the
the Judy Ann € model who kitchen faucet in Miss Mercado’s apart-
went with the jug-

Kealy nodded. Hi
ployer: “What busi
‘Williams say he w.

“He said he

eone inside so I
A man called out
usy and asked me to come

knocked on t
that she was b
back later.”
“Didn’t you think i
man should answer?”
“Not especiall

was a plumber.”

give his business address?” t was Strange a
oned he was in the
plumbing business.”

Williams ha

on the date.
enough to g
have been a

tives returned to the club
wing of Johnny Glynn, the
e Judy Ann Dull
Police artist from
urnished , the room-

Mr. Williams,” the

case, prepared by a
the description f
mates of the mis:

“It looks lik
young woman said

HE two night cl
mentiond were

ubs Williams had
visited by the de-
Owed employees a
pretty, dark-haired
tch of the jug-eared
nd no one who re-

unsolved slayings.”

g to canvass all plumbing
nd the union with his
“But I'll bet the

contractors a

e sketch to all the

d out more copies
S clubs. But lots

?” Hertel asked.
reparing a bul-
ghout the United
details on the disap-
Wo girls and the sketch

gO over the
re, and they

“Have you any ideas
aly said he was Pp
to circulate throu
States giving the
pearances of the t
of the suspect.

=F

y told him about the girl’s. ad-

we'd get some-

oo

body to call

us disappearance
the Los Angeles
e police on Sun-
by the landlord of

larity to the Dull
the investigation

ooking for is among th
area was reported to th Say something that will
day, July 27, 1958,
an apartment house.
Because of the simi
and Bridgeford cases,
was assigned to Kealy
he manager of the
detectives the missi
as Ruth Rita
iving there for

Hertel said. “How
the apartment?”

burg, New York.
apartment told Mercado had not
& woman had
Mercado. She

three months

ee ct
Seip anaes ateaaeten

g Mode Is (Continued trom Page 23)

had discharged
the inside of the

Most of the numbers listed were of
photo studios and booking agents where
Miss Mercado had obtained work.

The lab crew reported that there were
& number of fingerprints in the girl’s
apartment but no complete sets so that
comparisons could be made.

Undercover agents stationed at the
girl’s apartment talked to several pho-
tographers who called for the girl’s
services as a model. An investigation
Cleared them of any suspicion that they
might be connected with her disap-
pearance. The Stake-out was discon-
tinued after a week—with Rita still
missing.

Kealy and Ruble continued their in-
vestigation. A Careful search of the
State police files kept in Sacramento, in
which physica] peculiarities of criminals
are listed, convinced the detectives the
man they wanted had never been
arrested in California.

Southern California, like any area
with a dense population, has its share

of the disappearances,

Then, on the night of October 28,
Kealy got qa telephone call at his home.

“We have another Suspect for you on
those three disappearances,” a@ sergeant
told him. “Out in Anaheim. You’d better
look into it.”

Kealy did. That evening, he learned,
at a quarter after ten, Highway Patrol-

He caught only a fleeting glimpse in
the darkness, but Mulligan thought he

Bis motor bike, waited for a chance to
turn around and drove back.
As Mulligan Swung off on the side

officer shouted.
The girl broke free and ran toward
Mulligan, She had a gun in her hand.

the girl screamed, holding out the gun.

Mulligan called to the man on the
ground. “On your feet, you! And put
your hands up in the air!”

THE man obeyed, a cord dangling from
his right hand. He advanced slowly
toward Mulligan and the girl.
The patrolman described this scene
later by Saying: “His eyes were shining
like silver dollars. He kept them fixed

Angeles amd
tary.

“A girl I kmow run
Studio and she told

Miss Vigil said.

S a photographic

eS ak

posing for pictures,”
“She called me up and
0 was looking
pay me twenty dollars

an hour to pose for some cheese-cake

She said she
to her girl-friend

with him not to
if she let him tie

nm who.examined the gun-
that it was only

car?” Rios asked.
“Because I h for a model,”
son answemed easily. :

Professional

“I’m just an amateur
to break in asa Pro
Under further
admitted to the

‘ur but I'm trying

“Where is your Studio?”

“I don’t have ome.”

story about going to your
studio to take pictures was just so much
bunk

“I figured it this

an experienced

ut the gun?”
“I was just trying
“And the rope?”

“I figured if I could tie her up, I

to scare her.”

eaps of bones


yt
<7

Nuys telephoned various reputable pho-
tographers and studios asking if anyone
had heard of Johnny Glynn or a man
answering the description of the pho-
tographer.

The detectives meanwhile phoned the
girl's estranged husband in La Cres-
centa. He told them Judy Ann had failed
to keep the appointment with him on
Thursday evening and he had not heard
from her.

They made arrangements to inter-
view him later in the afternoon.

Kealy put in a call to Central divi-
sion for the homicide squad chief, Cap-
tain Arthur G. Hertel.

“We might have another Jean Spang-
ler case,” he told Hertel. “I thought you
should know about it right away.”

THE Jean Spangler disappearance has

remained one of the most baffling
mysteries in Los Angeles police files.
The vivacious, 27-year-old bit player
had disappeared from her Park La Brea
district apartment on October 6, 1949,
after telling her sister-in-law she was
leaving for work.

The starlet was seen a short time later
by an acquaintance who told police she
appeared to be waiting for someone.

Two days later a city employee at
Griffith Park found Miss Spangler’s
handbag, its strap torn, on the ground
near the Fern Dell entrance.

In it was a handwritten note reading,
“Kirk: Can’t wait any longer. Going to
see Dr. Scott. It will work best this way
while mother is away .. .”

An intensive police investigation

22

failed to determine to whom the note
had been addressed or what it meant.

Detectives moved through Hollywood -

movie studios to interview stars and bit
players, into night clubs for talks with
entertainers, bartenders and Patrons
and into the underworld for sessions
with gangsters and racketeers.

Several reports linked Miss Spang-
ler’s name to David Ogul, a Mickey
Cohen henchman who had disappeared
while under bond awaiting trial on a
conspiracy charge. Others hinted a
romantic interest with big names in the
movie industry.

The search led police from Hollywood
to Las Vegas and Texas, from mountain
to desert areas. But not one solid clue
ever was uncovered.

Whenever an unidentified skeleton is
reported, detectives immediately con-
sult dental records on file, with the
thought that it might be the missing
Jean Spangler.

“You aren't taking this too big, are
you?” Hertel asked Kealy. “After all,
the girl has only been gone overnight.”

“I know. But the fact that she left her
baby makes me think it’s serious. And
the guy saying he doesn’t have a studio
then he does and leaving a phony tele-
phone number doesn’t look good.”

“Well, keep after it,” Hertel advised.
“If you need any help from here, let
me know.”

A few hours later, the case of the
missing model took on an even more
serious twist when Kealy received a
telephone call from Lynn Lykel.

“I just went down to the apartment

od Sey

garage,” she said. “Judy Ann’s car is
there and her suitcase with the costume
changes is in it.”

“The one she took with her on the
modeling job?”

“Yes.”

T= detectives hurried to the garage.

They handled the suitcase gingerly
to avoid destroying any possible finger-
prints. The bag contained the Bikini
bathing suit, the wispy negligees and

‘the revealing skirts and blouses which

Judy Ann’s roommatés had described.

Why had the suitcase been left in the
car? .

“That fellow Johnny Glynn had his
own car so Judy Ann would have gone
with him,” Betty reasoned. “And if
she’d finished her work with him she
would have come up to the apartment
before going anywhere else.”

“You said she had some other ap-
pointments,” Ruble reminded her.

“But she didn’t keep them. Both
places telephoned to ask where she
was.”

Did that mean Johnny Glynn had
brought Judy Ann back to the apart-
ment? Had someone else been waiting
for her in the garage?

“We still have to find this Johnny
Glynn to be sure,” Kealy decided.

The detectives called on Robert L.
Dull, the missing model's estranged
husband, late in the afternoon. He
evinced concern over Judy Ann’s dis-
appearance but insisted he had no idea
where she could be.

Dull told the detectives he and his
wife had been getting along fine until
Judy Ann had had her picture taken
by a local photographer who asked if
he could display it in his shop window.

Another photographer had seen the
picture and asked Judy Ann if she would
pose for some illustrations. She had
accepted several jobs and then decided
she would follow modeling as a career.

“I told her I wouldn’t stand for it,”
Dull said firmly. “And we quarreled
about it. Then she met some other
models and moved in with them in Hol-
lywood.”

Dull knew nothing about the photog-
rapher, Johnny Glynn, nor any of the
other people his wife had been associ-
ating with since they had separated.

He was able to account for his own
time on Thursday. He had been at work
until five o’clock, then had had dinner
and gone to keep the appointment with
his wife. He said he had waited for her
until almost nine o’clock, then returned
to the boarding house where he was
staying.

Kealy released a photograph of Judy
Ann to the newspapers, with a story
that she was missing, in the hope that
someone might recall seeing her after
she left the apartment in the company
of Johnny Glynn. :

Calls to the photo studios produced
the names of several men who resem-
bled the description of Glynn but when
they accounted for their movements

"and when Lynn and Betty could not

identify them, they were cleared.

After all leads from the photo studios
had been run down Kealy had the pho-
tographic-equipment companies and
shops selling film and flash bulbs can-
vassed with the description of the jug-
eared photographer who had given his
name as Johnny Glynn.

But by the time of the custody hear-
ing in Judge Arnold Praeger’s court, the
detectives had not found a single clue
to what had happened to Judy Ann.
The judge awarded the father custody
of the infant daughter.

After three weeks of intensive inves-

* TS st PELLETED ET ae rae er noeenreeen nee nee we aes eben eee gs

~-“«-The self-styled photographer-who, police-say, carried a camera, a gun
and a rope on his "assignments" with beautiful Hollywood models

tigation in which the detectives inter-
viewed every person they could find who
ever had known Judy Ann and hun-
dreds of studios and photo shops look-
ing for the man called Johnny Glynn,
Kealy made a report to Captain Hertel.

“She’s disappeared without a trace.
We've come up against a blank wall
after she left the apartment with the
fellow who is supposed to have hired
her for the pin-up pictures,” Kealy said.

“And no sign of him?”

“Not a thing. I’m positive he wasn’t a
genuine photographer or someone in
the shops around town would have rec-
ognized his description.”

“What are you working on now?”

“We've had a drawing made of this
Johnny Glynn and we’re giving copies
to all of the professional models. If he
tries the same trick again, one of them
might spot him and call us. That’s about
all we have left to do.”

Months passed and the mystery
deepened.

Then, on December 29, 1957, James
G. Gilmore, a hand on the Kovacevich
ranch near Indio, was walking with his
dog in the Coachella Desert when the
animal, which had run on ahead, began
barking furiously.

Gilmore investigated and discovered
a human skull. :

Sheriff’s Captain Sam’ Hoffman and
a crew of deputies searched the desert


*s inter-
find who
id hun-
ps look-
’ Glynn,
1 Hertel.
a trace.
nk wall
vith the
ve hired
ily said.

vasn’t a
eone in
ave rec-

ow?”

of this
, copies
s. If he
of them
‘s about

mystery

James
acevich
vith his
ien the
. began

sovered

an and
desert

pose ee

Left, Lynn Lykel and Betty Carver, Judy's roommates, who first told the police about the jug-eared man;
above, the piece of sash cord believed to have claimed the lives of three beauties, and the gun that saved one

along the highway between Banning
and Indio and found a shallow grave
in the sand with the partial remains of
a skeleton in it. Bits of clothing, blond
hair and a high-heeled shoe indicated
that the body had been that of a woman.
There was no other identification.

Doctor Robert Dexter, county pathol-
ogist, examined the bones and said they
were those of a young woman. He said
she had been placed in the grave nude
and the clothing had been put on top
of her body.

None of the bones had been fractured
and Doctor Dexter was unable to de-
termine the cause of death. Fingerprints
were impossible to obtain and the young
woman had no traceable dental work.

When the routine description came
through to the Los Angeles police, Kealy
immediately evinced interest in it. The
size and age of the young woman and
the blond hair indicated it could have
been Judy Ann.

But despite the best efforts of pathol-.

ogists and crime-lab technicians, no
one could establish positively that the
skeleton was the missing model’s.

“TI think there’s a good chance it was
Judy Ann,” Kealy told Ruble. ‘“Let’s
check that whole area down there. If
the killer took her body to the desert,
he might have stayed overnight or
eaten somewhere.”

The detectives inquired at hotels, mo-
tels, cafes and service stations along
the highway and at Indio, Palm Springs,
Cathedral City, Indian Wells and Co-
achella, exhibiting the sketch of the

. jug-eared photographer.

,

At a hamburger stand near Cabazon,
a counterman thought he recognized
the sketch but he was uncertain when
the man had been there and could
offer nothing that might be of any help
toward locating him.

Without positive means of identify-
ing the skeleton, the detectives still had
no way of knowing whether the missing
model actually had been slain.

TBEN came the second one.

Almost eight months after Judy
Ann disappeared, Mrs. Alice Jolliffe re-
ported to Kealy that her 24-year-old
daughter, Mrs. Shirley Ann Bridgeford,
a divorcee, had failed to return from a
date on Saturday night, March 8, 1958.

“It was a blind date,” the mother
said. “She met the fellow through a
lonely hearts club.”

Shirley Ann, the mother of two young
sons, had been divorced three years
previously. She and her sons had been
living with her mother and a younger
sister on Tuxford Avenue in the Sun
Valley suburb.

“Why a lonely hearts club?” Kealy
asked.

The mother explained that after her
divorce Shirley Ann had become in-
terested in a young man but he had
married another girl.

“It’s difficult when you have two
children,” Mrs. Jolliffe said. “Shirley
Ann felt she didn't want to become
seriously involved with anyone else but
I urged her to go out and have a good
time once in awhile.”

Shirley Ann finally had decided to

register with a lonely hearts club on
South Vermont Avenue. Her first date
was with the man who had called to
take her out on Saturday night.

“He came to the house about a quar-
ter to eight,” Mrs. Jolliffe declared. “He
seemed very nice and I certainly didn’t
think there could be anything wrong
with a man who would come to the house
and talk to us before he took Shirley
Ann out.” :

“What did he tell you about himself?”

“He said his mame was George Wil-
liams and he had come to Los Angeles
only recently. I think he told us he was
in the plumbing business. He spoke and
acted like a perfect gentleman.”

Williams had mentioned taking Shir-
ley Ann to either the Sun Valley Rancho
or the Riverside Rancho for dancing.

“When Shirley Ann didn’t come
home, I got worried,” Mrs. Jolliffe said.
“I called the police and the hospitals,
thinking they might have been in an
automobile accident. Someone at police
headquarters told me to see you.”

“Can you give us a description of this
Williams?”

Mrs. Jolliffe described him as a few
inches under six feet tall. He wore
glasses and had a small mustache,
brown hair and blue eyes.

Kealy went to the lonely hearts club.
George Williams had registered there
about a week earlier, an employee said,
giving an address in Pasadena.

Pasadena police were asked to inves-
tigate and reported back that the ad-
dress was a phony.

(Continued on page 64)


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could talk some sense into her. I would
have let her go. I just didn’t want her to
cause me any trouble.”

When he learned the details of the
case, Kealy called Rios and asked per-
mission to question Glatman himself.

“You’re more than welcome. How soon
will you be down?”

“First we'll see what we can find at

that address he gave you and the studio
where he got the girl’s name. It may
take a few hours.”
’ At the studio they learned that a man
who gave the name of Frank Johnson
had requested a model for some cheese-
cake shots. He had been given the name
of Lorraine Vigil. ‘

The manager of Glatman’s apart-
ment told the detectives that the man
had moved in three months previously.
He was quiet, seldom had visitors and,
to the manager’s knowledge, never had
entertained any girls in his rooms.

Inside the apartment, the detectives
claim, they found a number of “art”
magazines, “girlie” books and a stack

of photographs of undraped models. ‘

In a drawer they found several ar-
ticles of women’s lingerie.

And in a toolbox, Kealy claimed, he
found a stack of negatives. The pictures
appeared to be of a nude girl with the
background of a desert.

“Isn’t that the Mercado girl?” he ex-
claimed. |

wit sure looks like her,” Ruble agreed.

Us get down to Santa Ana and
talk to this guy.” :

Bur when they questioned him, Glat-
duane flatly denied he ever had met

y Ann Dull, Shirley Ann Bridgeford
or Ruth Rita Mercado.

voy © Negatives tak
were shown to hime) om Ms toolbox

ey belong to Roy.”
tman claimed Roy was a photog-

Gla

rapher he had met. He had admired the
photos and Roy had given him the neg-
atives so he could make prints.

He thought Roy’s last name was
Archer, or something like it. He did not
know where he lived.

“The girl is Ruth Rita Mercado. She’s
been missing since July,” Kealy said.

“I don’t know what her name is.”

Told that the roommates of Judy Ann
Dull and the mother and sister of
Shirley Ann Bridgeford would be asked
to identify him, Glatman shrugged.

In the morning a report came in from
the identification bureau that Glat-
man’s fingerprints revealed a long rec-
ord of arrests for crimes involving
women.

They dated back to 1945 when he was
seventeen years old, starting in Denver,
Colorado, where he confessed to a series
of offenses against girls but had been
convicted of robbery and given a one-
to-five-year term.

Released after serving less than a
year, he went to Albany, New York,
where he got in trouble again.

In August of that year he was accused
of being the phantom bandit who robbed
women as they got off buses in lonely
sections of the city. He was convicted
of first-degree grand larceny and given
a five-to-ten-year sentence.

“IT admit the record,” Glatman said
with apparently no concern, the officers
claimed. “I admit I was fooling around
with the girl in my car. But that’s all.”

“Will you take a lie-detector test?”

“Sure. Why not? I got nothing to
worry about.”

The detectives claimed that Glatman
managed to keep the needle moving
evenly under questioning, but when he
was shown photos of Judy Ann Dull,
Shirley Ann Bridgeford and Ruth Rita
Mercado “the needle almost jumped off
the recording paper.”

“You can’t beat the machine, Glat-
man,” Rios told him.

The 30-year-old, bat-eared television
repairman eyed the detectives for sev-
eral moments, then shrugged. “I guess
you can’t,” he was quoted as saying.
“But I thought I would try.”

“You ready to tell us about it?”

“Have I got time before lunch?”

“We'll take time.”

THE story he proceeded to tell them,

the officers said, was shocking even
to the veteran detectives who thought
they’d heard everything.

At gunpoint, he had forced all three
of his victims to accompany him into
the desert, according to the officers.
Then he made them disrobe, and finally
strangled them with a length of sash
cord, leaving their bodies in shallow
graves, he was quoted as saying by the
investigators.

In the case of Ruth Rita Mercado,
whom he claimed to “really like,” he
spent an entire day taking pictures of
her in the desert, police said, and these
were the negatives officers found.

“Can you show us where the other
bodies are?” the detective asked.

“Sure,” Rios claimed Glatman re-
plied. “But first we have lunch. You
promised me that.”

It was dark by the time Glatman led
the detectives to the desert near Escon-
dido. Picking his way through Earth-
quake Valley and on to Scissors Cross-
ing, he led the procession to a deserted
terrain lighted by a full moon above.

“This is the way I walked Shirley,”
he said, according to the officers. “It
was moonlight like this.”

Under a plant, the searchers claimed,
they found a woman’s coat and dress
and further on, a heap of large bones.

Then, police claimed, Glatman led
them 32 miles farther on and pointed to

another grave. The officers found an-
other pile of bones, some underclothing
and a hank of long, black hair—all that
remained of Ruth Rita.

The following day, they claimed,
Glatman identified the spot in the
Coachella Desert where the skeleton
had been found earlier and said it was
the place where he had buried Judy
Ann Dull.

With the news of Glatman’s confes-
sion, inquiries poured in from all parts
of the country on other unsolved slay-
ings of young women.

Glatman, however, denied knowing
anything about any other crimes.

“If I killed anybody else, I would tell
you,” he was quoted as saying.

Glatman was subjected to addi-
tional lie-detector tests, and the de-
tectives ammounced that the findings
indicated he was telling the truth.

Charges of murder were filed against
Glatman, amd as this issue of OFFICIAL
DETECTIVE SrorIEs goes to press, he is
confined in the Los Angeles County jail.

‘However, he was transferred to San

Diego County when officers determined
that the crimes were committed within
that jurisdiction.

Detectives ammounced on November
11 that a further search of Glatman’s
apartment brought to light a horrible
photo album of his victims.

In each series the first pictures
showed the victim bound but fully
clothed. Subsequent pictures had cloth-
ing partially torn off them until finally
it was all gome. Some of the pictures
were indecent; all wound up with the
woman prone on the ground, feet bound
with a sash cord and the cord then
looped around her neck. :

Glatman, detectives said, included
his driver’s license in one sequence of
pictures, and they quoted him as saying
this was to identify himself.

65


om «ee + fe een

GLATMAN, Harvey, Murray, white, asphyxiated San Quentin (San Diego) on 8-18-1959,

by WILLIAM MICHELFELDER

oF that bleak morning of August 18, 1959, when Harvey
Murray Glatman’s life was snuffed out in the gas chamber at
San Quentin, the prison psychiatrist watching the execution
among other witnesses wryly observed: ‘““Thére goes a man
whose high intelligence never interfered with his lust for
women’s bodies and his need to murder them.”

Only 16 hours earlier Glatman sat
cheerfully in a locked room of the San
Quentin library, pencil in hand, briskly
checking off answers to a standard IQ
test, writing brilliant sentences in that
part of the test requiring a short essay
entitled, ‘*What I Believe.”’

In the latter exercise Glatman, who
had savagely murdered three beautiful
women and wreaked sexual perversions
on them horrifying the toughest of police
officers, dashed off this classic: *‘If
you'll pardon me saying so, you guys
giving this test don’t have a very high IQ.
There’s no way to tell how smart | am.
All you can do.is compare me with
others. But all you can find out is how |
seem to know things... you will never
know what I think.’’

Dr. T. Freeman Boule, the astounded

come I gave you so much rope you could
hang the deaths of my lovely girls on
me?”’

On August 24, six days after Glatman
had been lowered into an unmarked
grave outside Los Angeles, the psychiat-
rist added a few biographical details to
Glatman’s words — the sort illuminating
the career of a homicidal geniys so in-
telligent that it took two years for sleuths

to catch up with him. Briefly, those de-.

tails revealed:

Harvey Glatman loved ropes and
knot-tying from early childhood. He
called himself a ‘‘rope craftsman.’” At
age 13, he won a Boy Scout contest on
rope tying with a perfect score, Later, he
would kill by rope.

His brilliance first showed when he
finished as No. | student in the graduat-

Lod

Sex maniac Harvey Glatman told
lawmen all the grisly details of his
killings.

fooling around.”’
As far back as 1945, Harvey Glatman
talked a great deal about sex and once

psychiatrist, not only agreed with Glat-
man but shook his head in disbelief when
he toted up a score of 161 for this ‘*sexual
madman’”’ (his own phrase)... the highest
ever achieved by a doomed killer in U.S.
prison history.

At 11:20a.m. Glatman walked briskly
into the death chamber, waved off the
Chaplain, and uttered these final words:

‘If I'm so smart, how come I was so
dumb to let you cops tie me up in knots
with the questions that made me confess
to killing my loved ones? I knew I was
good at your IQ stuff (Dr. Boule con-
gratulated him on the 161 score), but how

. ing class of a Boulder, Col., high school.
One of his teachers said: *‘Harvey never
studied, he just listened and got the high
grades.’’ He also had been picked up by
cops for tearing the panties off three girls
in his class, lashing the buttocks of one
victim with a skipping rope. He had brief
psychiatric care.

At the age of 12, his mother told police
after he had been arrested for the sex-
slaying of three women, Harvey came
home with ‘‘red welts’’ on his neck. He
told her, smiling, he had tried to hang
himself in the attic of an abandoned
house with skipping rope ‘*but I just was

Fiends Who Went To The Gas Chamber

18 '

confided to a minister, *‘My brain cooks
with thoughts of bare dames..”’ Nobody
checked that out. .
Indeed, Glatman performed so expert-
ly as a ‘‘mild-mannered bachelor’’ (one

police version of him in 1957) that he. :

raped, tortured, sodomized and mur-
dered innocent women without being a
suspect for two years.

Rather senseless contradictions fi-

gured in the handling of the ‘‘rape-and-
rope’’ murders, as tagged by a Denver,
Col.,
trating search for the killer. At seven-
teen, Harvey, a sallow, meek-faced char-
acter, got into ‘“‘girl trouble’’ with
strange behavior looking like a prank.
Three times in 1944 he snatched
purses off pretty girls, raced down the
street, hurled the purses back at them.

detective involved with the frus- .,.- °


a kindly judge.

aks

i eraavions  ™, ML 2 I AD: Tye

*‘Just a weird kid,’* wrote one cop in his
report. *‘Nothing dangerous’’. On the
other hand,:when Glatman jumped in
front of a teenaged girl one afternoon in
Boulder, waved a toy gun at her and
shouted: **Take off all your clothes!” the
cops hauled him in. A 1945 psychiatric
report called him *‘mildly disturbed by
sexual tensions’’ and he was set loose by

Contradictions arose, indeed, when

., Glatman showed up in New York City in

1946, robbed a pretty secretary’s apart-

_ ment of typewriter, jewelry and $90 ina

«cookie jar... and all her panties and bras:

“He went to Sing Sing prison on a three-

“year rap, exited on a quick parole when

psychiatrists observed he was nota *‘rob-
ber by motive, but a sexually disoriented
male finding some sexual release by in-
vading a young female’s residence,’

In 1951,
receiving complaints of a ‘*thin;*baby-
faced male’’ making sexual advances to
young women in libraries, bus stations
and office buildings. Nothing really hap-
pened, he *‘just tried to get a feel,’’ as the.
cops dutifully wrote. And when Glatman
was picked up for questioning in June of
1951, he emerged as the soft-spoken
owner of a modest TV repair shop, using
the name **Timmins,”’

[OE RPE: RENT TR A AE ORR ANG BP REY oe eee,

Los Angeles police began ,

a member of the:

RS ORR APO a eel TER

Central Baptist Church where he sang in
the choir every Sunday.

On the hot August |, 1957, afternoon
never to be forgotten by Los Angeles
police — and later occasions in 1958 —
lovely Judy Ann Dull, 19, a profession-
al model for lin¥erie, opened the door of
her tiny flat in the Los Angeles suburbs to
admit a baby-faced man who responded
to her phone call for TV repairs.

As this repairman fiddled with her dis-
abled set, he told her that he was a free-
lance photographer on the side, that he
had an assignment to ‘organize a picture
for a true story magazine showing a
woman in distress.’’
~ Judy Ann Dull was ambitious. The

assignment looked simple enough and

the TV man said $100 cash could be hers :

‘immediately.

As homicide detectives unraveled the
nightmarish sequence two years later,
Judy Dull apparently failed to dwell on
the oddities i in the nature of the ‘‘assign-
ment.”

As a Los Angeles homicide report
noted in 1959:

*‘The girl seemed familiar with the
kind of magazine he mentioned. She

went along with his typical, bound and ©
gagged stuff, and agreed to get into his

acar for a short ride to a so-called studio...

Ve or Shh NA TE SA A eR Sia SP 8 Mae

in the rear of his TV repair shop,”’

Shortly after 4 p.m. Judy Dull learned
— too late — she was the prey of a
monster no longer *‘sexually tense’’ but
berserk with murderous lust.

With elaborate flourishes, the *‘free-
lancer’’ arranged his camera and lights,
talked Judy Dull into stripping down to
panties- -and-bra, expertly trussed her
with nine feet of skipping rope, gagging
her with a wash cloth from his bath-
room. ;

In a well-written confession several
years later, Glatman explained, with
meticulous care, how’ he had planned :
months ahead to “screw and destroy sci-
entifically":

on He aoa an 1.Q. of an incredible 161, but in the end
“a pair of squeaky shoes proved his undoing. © reg =

catch’ up with him. He came "all
close to achieving that goal.

When Judy Dull uttered muffled cries |

through her gag, Glatman whispered in

_ her ear his photograph had to be realistic. '
He lowered her into an easy chair, ripped . ;
off her dress, photographed her in her. *’

panties. He whipped her breasts with his

.favorite skipping rope, tore away the

panties and raped her in the chair.
Thirty-five minutes later (according to

his confession) he made several trips to a

back door to make. sure nobody was on

(continued on page 46)

Three of Glatman’s victims — Judy Ann Dull, Shirley Bridgeford and Ruth Mercado. |

so that police would never :

i


an TEER TS

-one official, was

New York's CBS’ Slayings

;

caliber slugs were recovered as searchers

, poked through the mud in the creck bed

with their fingers.

And, in a four hour search through
Nash's home and garage. they found a
quantity of black paint and a spent .22-
caliber casing. both in the garage. Subse-
quently, police sources told the press
that the shell casing had been fired from
the weapon used to kill Barbera and the
CBS technicians.

‘The report from the police lab. es
“very significant”’
that *‘it puts the gun used in the age
right in his home garage.”* And, it was
also pointed out. a shell casing found in
the van had been fired from the same
gun, police tests indicated.

As the investigation closed ever more
tightly on Nash. federal prosecutors were
digging into the collapse of the Candor
Diamond Corp. On Wednesday. May.3.

the FBI picked up both Maryolies. the
paunchy. bespectacled president. and his
‘wife. Madeline, on mail fraud charges.

It was, said Assistant U.S. Attorney
Schlessinger. a “‘fraud of monumental
proportions.”* with little likelihood of re-
covering the missing money.

Travelling “‘under false and assumed
names** during the previous summer, he

charged, the couple had hidden some of

the prodeeds in foreign countries. Then,
even after the bankruptcy. he said. they
enjoyed *‘a lavish, opulent life style.”
The Margolies were arrested at their
home at 7:15 a.m.. and brought to Foley
Square in Manhattan. where they waited
more than an hour for bail hearing. Mrs.
Margolies.. who said she felt ill, was

allowed to sit during the brief, proceed- ,

ings.
The couple did not have to enter pleas.
and Margolies refused to discuss the
charges or the homicide investigation
with reporters. ‘"] have nothing to say,
nothing."* he told them. His wife merely
shook her.head without answering.
Schlessinger asked $75,000 cash bail
for each defendant. but the couple's
lawyer, Gary Woodfield, protested that

~. they had turned in their passports and

cooperated with the feds to the extent of
providing handwriting samples...
U.S. Magistrate Kent Sinclair Jr. seta
personal appearance bond (which
doesn't require cash as security) at
$200.000, and after signing it, the couple
were released for hearing later. On con-

4: viction. the maximum sentence would be

five’years in prison and a $1,000 fine.
46

4

(continued from page 45) ,

te, : \

Finally. compliciited tests on blood-
stains found in Nash's van were com-
pleted — and the New York City Medical
Examiner's Office said they were of the
same type as Barbera’s blood!

The similar tests disclosed that other
stains in the yan matched those found in

the car of the missing Mrs. Chin. Howev- _

er, lacking blood samples of Mrs. Chin,
detectives could not positively confirm
that. the stains in either vehicle were
actually her blood type...

Now the police discarded an earlier
theory that the gunman might have had
an accomplice. They pointed out that no
second man came to the gunman’s sup-
port as he dragged Barbera to the van.
Nor did anyone start the van’s motor
while the hitman was chasing, and, shoot-
ing the hapless CBS trio.

Nash’s lawyer. Lawrence Hocheiser.
reported his client “*calm and collected”

but “sort of waiting for the other shoe to

drop** — and. on Wednesday. June 14,
1982, the. shoe did indeed drop with a
Joud thud. Nash was indicted on four
counts of segond-degree murder, each of
which carried a maximum sentence of he
years to life,

The following day — the day he had
been scheduled for release on his fugitive
conviction — he was rue into Man-

hattan Supreme Court on the murder, | in--

dictment.

After he had pleaded not. guilty.
Acting Justice Felice K,; Shea directed
that he be held without, bail. He was
placed back in the maximum security
wing of the messeae mouse of Deten-
tion.

~ DA Morgenthau was reminded of his
stutement two months earlier that Nash
was “not the prime suspect."

"Since then.”* he explained, .**there
has been an intensive investigation by the
New York City Police Department and
by the FBI. The grand jury has concluded
that Mr. Nash was the prime suspect.”’

Similarly, he dismissed the apparent
conflict between the original description

of a youngish, thinner gunman and the’

stout 47-year-old Nash. 4

**l wouldn't want to characterize any
dexeriplions: * the prosecutor said. *‘l
don’t know how much of that was some-

body's imagination. and how much fact.

Despite the seeming discrepancies,
the DA stated flatly, **Yes. he.is the
shooter.”

However, he also said cryptically that
the indictment did not mean *‘other per-
sons were not involved, and this ,is.a
continuing investigation.”

Of course, an indictment is merely a

charge, and both Nash and the Margolies.
couple must be presumed innocent.

There has also been no evidence to link
the couple with the murders or Chin dis-
appearance, and nothing to involve Nash
in the bankruptcy case. *

a

ie The Killing Genius.

MAGA A aucile tay! _ (Continued from page 19)

the street. Time was in his favor... appro-
ximately-9 p.m. and a moonless night.

He then carried the unconscious girl to
his car, dumped her on the rear seat, once

again roped, but not gagged. Incredibly,

he drove 126, miles to a desert area. not
far from the tiny hamlet of Indio, and no
one remembered secing. him: —-.except
John V. Feder, a 51-year-old rancher
who happened to be standing. near..the
highway marker just east of Indio. Fed-

er’s remarks to investigators months

afterwards, bordered, slightly, on. ,the
fantastic:

‘IT couldn't forget that 1953 Oldsmo-
bile. On the side of the right door was a
neatly pasted sign, ‘Murray Harvey,
Irrigation ‘Contractor,’ and there were
three phone numbers under it. He leaned
out the car window and asked me how
many miles to the irrigation area. Didn't
know what that meant. but I told him how
to get to the desert.”

‘girl out,

But Glatman understood what ,he
meant by Irrigation Contractor. When he

reached a remote section, he.dragged the.
took four more pictures and:

raped her twice. When. her, screams of
agony ‘filled the night..air, ;Glatman

strangled her with his favorite, skipping . e :

rope. | Pos ghee
He dragged the corpse across the sand
to a small declivity which, in his bizarre
confession, got this description: **This
area was suitable for the furrow method
of irrigation..
of crops permitting lateral. penetration to
all the roots.

Glatman had never been’ in irrigation
work, baffled cops revealed subsequent-
ly, but a Los Angeles psychiatrist volun-
teered at Glatman’s murder trial in 1959
that ‘‘the defendant is subject to. hallu-
cinatory experiences about an. occupa-

(continued on next page)

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risky than usual.
srowing old. But
topped beside a

was quite his

er Graylea, for
windows of the
away on a visit,
the 60-year-old
€, aS occupants.
ill swarmed like
zhts in the man-
the barking of
'm of the sultry
ss became com-

Isabel came in-
ily to have Mrs.
Mr. Russell?”
‘He is outside.

itehouse. Rus-

: stroll before

and sunny

y USekeeper was

abel suddenly

through the
ad!”

Vhere? How?”

r of the house

iobery. I found

~

twood police,
on page 63]

Harvey M. Glatman

SIE


ING

,

t, sun-blasted
the Colorado
as a fearsome
pioneer days.
‘stered wastes
men and ani-—
d. Today the
tary activities,

vays. Today's -

s of the desert.
peaten tracks,
ng, simmering
h than to life.
iway 395, one of
nged with holi-
‘ountain resorts
. new section of
ert northwest of
» long week-end .
x toil with heavy
ind 100 degrees.
;, 1959, the state
on the job.

the desert con-
xt of the Shadow
wn of Adelanto,
95 was being re-
he existing road-
ver and happen-
1 spotted the two
sad-mix material
adbed. Squinting

1e saw that they ©

rawled out here,
all night. Drunk,
e pair. “Hey, you

ptly, a few yards

‘rew boss stopped
a! They’re dead!”
a young man and:
ardine slacks and
dress, and nylon
wled side by side
rout a foot apart,
ined toward each
blood. The man’s

tioned his excited
r get back on the.
. You fellows stay |

here and don’t let anybody come near them, while I go call
the cops.” : * :
Aduddell loped back to his car, swung around and raced

down the highway to the nearest telephone, at a service —

station outside Adelanto. He called the California highway
patrol office in Victorville, 9 miles away, and reported his
grim find. Then he sped back to the roadside death spot.
Additional highway workers had gathered by that time,
and curious motorists on 395 were beginning to stop.

Highway Patrolman L. A. McNeill came sirening up in
his black and white patrol car, followed by Deputy William
Patterson of the sheriff’s Victorville substation. Other of-
ficers quickly arrived. They flashed word to San Bernar-
dino, the county seat across the mountains 40 miles. to the
south and, shortly after 8 a.M., an official motorcade set out
for the scene.

The first officers to arrive said that it was a double mur-
der, and not murder and suicide, or double suicide. Both

“When he threatened to hurt my family,” best mattt:)

; with his wife, told Sheriff Bland (r.), “I made up my mind to kill him.”

victims had been shot in the head. Blood on the ground in-
dicated the shootings had taken place at that spot. There
was no weapon anywhere near the sprawled bodies, and
no strange car was parked anywhere in the area. There
were a number of footprints in the oily mix, but no indica-
tion of a struggle.

“Someone walked them over here from a car, and gunned

,them down in cold blood,” Deputy Patterson summed up.
“A gang-style execution.”

Eric Aduddell and his crew had been working up and
down the new road segment all day Friday. All were posi-
tive the bodies had not been there at that time. None of
the road workers recognized the dead couple.

Rapid decomposition under the desert sun had blurred
the slain pair’s features, but both victims appeared to be in
their 20s. The man was about 6 feet tall, sturdily built, with
reddish-brown curly hair. The woman was 5 feet 3, about
120 pounds, slim and fragile. Her brunette hair was worn

15


ad

a
«

16

' the highway department workers, were still scouring the

in a pony-tail. The man had been shot at least once in the
head and also in the lower abdomen. The girl was shot in
the forehead. A partially-smoked cigarette and a cheap
chromium lighter lay between the two bodies. Beside the
man’s head lay a pair of plastic-rimmed glasses, the left
lens broken. A few small coins were scattered around. The
woman’s shoes and purse were nowhere in sight.
Searching the grim scene, deputies picked up a number
of spent cartridge cases, of both .45 and .32 caliber. Not far
from the bodies they found more than a dozen of the little
brass shells. Then they made a curious discovery. Neatly
lined up in the sand, just off the road, was a row of soft
drink bottles. One of the bottles was shattered. The coarse
sand around them was pitted with little furrows. .
“Target practice!” one of the deputies exclaimed. “The »
killers practiced on these empty bottles before they shot +
the couple.” ee ;
Further search yielded still-tmhore empty shells, a loaded
.45 automatic clip, more cigarette stubs, and two six-packs
of empty soft drink bottles replaced in their cartons.
The desert deputies and highway patrolmen, aided by

ering ancien MAEDA

2 nytt e

sagebrush in a wide circle when the caravan of headquar-
ters officers arrived. from San Bernardino. Heading Sheriff
Frank Bland’s desert task force were Inspector Hal Oxne-
vad and Lieutenant Barton A. Keene, veteran homicide
investigators. Forensic Chemist Anthony Longhetti and
Deputy John C. MacIvor came from the crime lab and ID
bureau, respectively.

Oxnevad immediately ordered the area roped off to keep
back the gathering throng of newspapermen and curious
spectators. As soon as Maclvor had finished photographing
the bodies and diagramming the death scene, Deputy Cor-
oner A. J. McCann began his examination. Noting that the
slain couple’s fingertips were already blackened and shriv-
eled, he applied wet cloths to help preserve their finger-
prints. ~ ,

McCann confirmed that the curly-haired man, whose age

he estimated in the late 20s or early 30s, had been shot once
in the top of the head, from close range, and once in the
groin. He also appeared to have been bludgeoned or pistol-
whipped in the face. The pony-tailed: little brunette, also
in her late 20s, was shot squarely in the middle of the fore-
head.
The deputy coroner found it difficult to estimate how long |.
the pair had been lying there. Mojave’s 100-degree daytime ©
temperatures plummet at night, in that comparatively high
altitude. Foreman Aduddell pointed out, however, that the
sticky pile of oil-aggregate road-mix, on which the bodies
partially lay, might have reached as high as 160 degrees
under the blazing desert sun, and tended to retain its heat,
thus accelerating decomposition.

Coroner McCann estimated that the couple had been dead
anywhere from 24 to 48 hours, possibly longer. Post mortem
lividity, as well as the pattern of dried blood, indicated they
had been slain where they lay, and not transported there
after death.

Of more urgent concern to the sheriff’s homicide men was
the identity of the victims. There was no wallet on the
murdered man. He had 47 cents. in his pockets, plus a
blood-soaked and illegible letter, in which Chemist Long-
hetti was able to decipher the single word, “love.” On his
right hand the man wore a class ring with a school mono-
gram, “SM,” and the year, 1949. On his inner right fore-
arm was a tattoo of an eagle in flight. His dark gray
gabardine slacks and white dress shirt were of good qual- —
ity, and his dark blue and green necktie bore the label of a ‘
Pasadena haberdashery.

Sayaka eilnsin Sf acini ahi

te eer aes

The woman’s purse and shoes had not been found, She }

wore no jewelry, and there was no identification in her -
modish blue-gray dress. She wore blue nylon panties.
There was no indication of sex molestation. On her left *
thigh, just above the knee, was a barely legible tattoo that +
looked like “SKIHI,” or.“SKEHE.” ‘
When the bodies were turned over for further examina- »

tion, an adc
was a crum)
page torn fr:
address on

suburb of L.

Lieutenan':
be relayed t:
from San Be
immediately
tion.

Sheriff B)
Doyle now :
did this kne:
the sheriff. °
cut executio
two differen
killers invo!
bottles, it’s 5
ply terrorizi
sible the cov
and then th

There wa
shots might
On one side
on the othe:
Mojave Riv
nicians conc
Bland assig:
oughly over
tions, cafes
Road constr
murder pro!

The bodice
porarily to
Force Base,
McCann cou
midmorning
reply from
Adelanto, th
a new lead.

After Car
lanto grocer
pair, he told
in his store
morning, L:
of assorted :

Gutknech:
“She kept v
what to ma!
told me abo
been trying

The groce:
seemed ner\
“crumbs”’—r
lows who di:

old, he said,
younger, 5 fe
and dark sh
burned. The
The little br
duced from
membered t
the north, v
Rambler sta
rack on the
the wheel.
Deputies r
bodies and s:
ple, though
blackened a:
The hair, ge
same, Gutkn
After inte
thought the
couple capti:

.ce in the
is shot in

a cheap
seside the
, the left
ound. The
a number
-r, Not far
f the little
ry. Neatly
»w of soft
Che coarse

S. :
ned. “The
they shot

s, a loaded
) six-packs
ctons.

, aided by
ouring the
headquar-
ing Sheriff
Hal Oxne-
1 homicide
ghetti and
lab and ID

off to keep
ind curious
stographing
eputy Cor-
ng that the
and shriv-
heir finger-

, whose age
-n shot once
once in the
:d or pistol-
unette, also
of the fore-

ite how long
ree daytime
atively high
ver, that the
h the bodies
160 degrees
cain its heat,

id been dead
Post mortem
dicated they
ported there

side men was:
yvallet on the
ckets, plus a
nemist Long-
love.” On his
school mono-
or right fore-
is dark gray
of good qual-
the label of a

»n found, She

cation in her -

iylon panties.
. On her left
ole tattoo that

ther examina-

Ree

ca

ree hey

*
:

%
-

tion, an additional clue was found. Under the man’s hip
was a crumpled, blood-spattered slip of paper, evidently a
page torn from a notebook. Scribbled on it in pencil was an
address on East 120th Street in Hawthorne, a southern
suburb of Los Angeles. ;

Lieutenant Keene radioed the address to headquarters, to
be relayed to the police department in Hawthorne, 70 miles
from San Bernardino, with a request that they check on it
immediately without divulging the nature of the investiga-
tion.

Sheriff Bland and Chief Deputy Coroner Edward P.
Doyle now arrived to take personal command. “Whoever
did this knew his business,” Inspector Oxnevad reported to
the sheriff. “There was no struggle, no fuss, just a clean-
cut execution. Judging from the number of shells and the
two different calibers, it looks as though there were two
killers involved. As for the target practice with the pop
bottles, it’s possible they were trying out their guns, or sim-
ply terrorizing the victims before killing them. Or it’s pos-
sible the couple were lured out here to shoot at the bottles,
and then the guns were turned on them.”

There was no habitation in sight where the multiple
shots might have been heard, to set the time of the slayings.
On one side the desert sloped up to the Shadow Mountains;
on the other side it stretched down to the dry bed. of the
Mojave River. While homicide detectives and crime tech-
nicians concentrated on the immediate murder scene, Sheriff
Bland assigned teams of deputies to search the desert thor-
oughly over a wide area, and others to check service sta-
tions, cafes and other -establishments along the highway.
Road construction work was suspended while the double
murder probe went on.

The bodies of John and Jane Doe were removed tem-
porarily to the service mortuary. at nearby George Air
Force Base, where Chemist Longhetti and Deputy Coroner
McCann could study them further with better facilities. By
midmorning the sheriff and his aides were still awaiting a
reply from Hawthorne, when inquiries at the hamlet of
Adelanto, the town closest to the murder scene, produced
a new lead.

After Carl Gutknecht, 60-year-old: operator of an Ade-
lanto grocery store, heard the description of the murdered
pair, he told deputies he was almost certain they had been
in his store with two other men at about 8:15 Monday
morning, Labor Day, September 7th. They bought bottles
of assorted soft drinks, which were paid for by the woman.

“She kept winking at me, motioning to me. I didn’t know
what to make of it. I didn’t think any more of it till you
told me about these killings. Now I realize she must have
been trying to get over some message to me.”

The grocer said the tall, neatly dressed man with the girl
seemed nervous, too. The other two men he described as
“crumbs”—roughly dressed, unkempt, tough-looking fel-
lows who didn’t open their mouths. One was about 40 years
old, he said, 5 feet 8, with bushy black hair; the other was
younger, 5 feet 10, with dark hair. Both wore dirty overalls
and dark short-sleeved shirts, and both were deeply sun-
burned. They looked like itinerants, the grocer thought.
The little brunette insisted on paying with money she pro-
duced from a large brown leather handbag. The grocer re~-
membered that the oddl. -assorted quartet drove away to
the north, up Route 395, in a light blue and white Nash
Rambler station wagon, about a 1955 model, with a luggage
rack on the top. He had not noticed which of the four took
the wheel. ;

Deputies rushed him over to the mortuary. He viewed the
bodies and said he was almost certain it was the same cou~-
ple, though he could not. be entirely positive, since the
blackened and distorted features were hardly recognizable.
The hair, general build and clothing were just about the
same, Gutknecht said.

After interviewing the Adelanto grocer, Sheriff Bland
thought the two “crumbs” had been holding the young
couple captive, most likely with guns in their pockets. Pos-

\
Shoe offered him another clue to identify the murdered man

17


eines einen na a
es

18

“He knows something,” Lt. Keene (l.) told Sheriff ‘Bland

sibly they were hitchhikers, bent on robbery, whom the
unwary victims had picked up. The brunette apparently
tried desperately to convey a distress message to the
grocer, but failed. Adelanto was only six miles from the
scene of the double slaying, and the time had been just
about 24 hours before the bodies were ‘discovered.

Rather than broadcast a general alarm prematurely and
perhaps drive the suspects into hiding, Bland issued a local
radio alert in the Mojave Desert area, ordering his deputies
to check all motels, cafes, taverns, stores and gas stations
along Route 395 and intersecting highways, for any trace of
the overalled men in the blue and white Rambler station
wagon.. ,

Meanwhile the report had come in from Hawthorne. The
address on the bloodstained notebook page was that of a
modest apartment not far from Hollywood Park race track.
There was no one at home when Hawthorne detectives
went to investigate. Neighbors said two young couples, one
believed to be recently arrived from Texas, had been living
there for the past two or three weeks.’ Their names and
present whereabouts were unknown. The landlord couldn’t
be immediately located. The suburban police were checking
further. ‘

Search of the murder vicinity through the blazing middle
of the day turned up only a.couple of spent .45 slugs re-
trieved from the sand. The slain‘woman’s missing handbag
and shoes could not be found. The crime lab crew secured a
number of good casts and photos of the tire marks and
lifted several fragmentary fingerprints from the pop bot-
tles. i

The victims’ fingertips yielded readable prints. ‘“‘They’re
good enough to eliminate or identify the couple positively,
against any set that turns up for comparison,” Captain
Precy R. Sellas, head of the records and identification bu-
reau, reported to Sheriff Bland, “but not good enough -to
work out the complete formula needed to find them in the
files.” + en
The slain man’s class ring’ yielded a further clue:
scratched inside it were the initials “R.N.” And in his black
dress shoes, which had a distinctive metal heel stud, were
a manufacturer’s code number-and the stamp of a Pasadena
shoe store. The slain man had a dimple in his chin and a
scar on his left shin. :

Leaving a. detail of deputies to guard the murder spot
and continue the search, the sheriff and his aides returned
to San Bernardino to press the investigation. Captain Sellas
prepared copies of the blurred fingerprints, to be rushed .to
the FBI in Washington.

The sheriff put almost his entire detective force to work
on the Mojave double murder case. Deputies started con-
tacting high school authorities in Santa Monica and San
Marino, seeking to trace the class ring with the “SM” mono-
gram. Others were detailed to’ check the Pasadena haber-
dashery and shoe. store. ; .

Still others scanned recent missing persons reports and
contacted authorities: of other cities. Late that afternoon,
when there was still no report on the blue and white Ram-
bler station wagon or its occupants, Sheriff Bland issued an
all-points teletype and radio bulletin to peace officers
throughout Western states. The bulletin described the vic-
tims and circumstances of the double slaying, as well as
the two suspects and their car.

The Pasadena shoe store said the dead man’s shoes had
been sold within the past month or so, but there was no
record of the customer’s name. The buyer of the necktie
could not be traced. Both stores were checking further.

That night, with TV, press and radio headlining the news
of the desert execution, the sheriff’s office was flooded with
tips, all of which were checked out by a full crew working
throughout the night.

A San Bernardino woman, wife of a retired air force
officer, reported that her Cadillac had been stolen by two
men she had met in a bar. Their descriptions closely fitted
those of the two “crumb” suspects. The two men were soon
picked up in the Cadillac in nearby Colton, and rushed to

/
Le

the sher
denied |
Deputie:

Two °
about th:
was the.
Maria, \

tailed b:
unempl«
woman
husband
Maria t:
Vegas, t
The «
whom t!
tions of
were yo
37. The
Ted dro:
Nash R:
Bernard
mortuar
ly said t
tify her
of her b:
Deput
They, t
bloated
Carl Gi
Helen 2
like the
was a «
were no
noon.
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points t
two sur
time th«
suspicio:
Hawt)
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who lis
didn’t r
He told
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The co:
was not
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that bo
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Bernar:
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origina
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with th
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and a:
Beach.

Double Murder Splits
The 4 Honeymooners

(Continued from Page 27)

_ lead. At once Homicide Lieutenant »
- Keene and Lieutenant Hal Oxnevad left
. for San Marino, a small town just east

of Pasadena. There they contacted lo-
cal police authorities and with them
visited the shoe stores indicated by the

-manufacturer.. There the manager,

checking his records,: was able to in-
form them that the shoes in question
had been sold less than a month before
to a’ man ‘who gave his name as “No-
len.” It had been-a cash sale, and no

first name or address had been put

down on the sales me
With that meager bit of information

- Oxnevad and Keene, together with. a

local officer, visited the high school.
The yearbook for the graduating class
of 1949 failed to list anyone by the
name of Nolen but it did contain the
name and photograph of a student by
the name of Richard Lee Nowlen.
Pointing to the photograph, Oxnevad
asked the San Marino officer accom-
panying them, “Can you tell us any-

«thing about this one?”

“Plenty!” the San Marino official
said bluntly. “He’s been in trouble
around here ever since I’ve been on the
force. Even when he was a kid we hac

--to run him in a dozen times or more.

And we’ve been keeping an eye out for
him for the last month.” ©

“Why?”

“We got a bulletin that he and a
couple of other fellows had escaped

_ from the Institute For Men at Chino.”

Back at the San Marino headquarters

a look at*the records revealed that-
- Richard Lee Nowlen had been sen-

tenced to the California Institute ‘for
Men at Chino for passing forged
checks. On August 9th he had escaped
along with two other men, Ronald D.
Hurley, in for passing bad checks, and
Robert J. Skiba, sentenced for armed
robbery. Skiba and Hurley had both
been recaptured after a few days. Now-
len, however, was still at large.
Further check of the local records
revealed that Nowlen was the adopted
son of a prominent local family, Mr.
and Mrs. Eugene Nowlen, who were

then in Europe. Although the boy had .

been given every advantage he had been
constantly in trouble since his early
teens. He had not been seen in San
Marino since his discharge from the
Navy in 1953. gest

A comparison of the fingerprints on

file in the San Marino office with those
-taken from the, slain man made the

identification positive.
But there was still no lead as to the

50

_ .of months ago.”

identity of the slain girl.

_ That was the status of things for the
next twenty-four hours. Then a call
came in to Sheriff Bland from Sergeant

_ William Eisen of the Los Angeles

County sheriff's office. Eisen had a pos-
sible lead for the ‘San Bernardino of-
ficials. f

“I’ve been going over the report you

sent out on the murdered pair,” he .

told Sheriff Bland. “Do you think the
tattoo on the girl’s leg could read
SKENE?”

“Could be.”

“In that case I think I can Kelp with
the identification. According to the
records here, there is a girl named
Patricia Skene. She was married, then
divorced from a man named William
Skene. Right now he’s serving a sen-
tence in the men’s section of Tehachapi
‘Prison, Patricia did a stretch on a nar-
cotic charge at the Terminal Island
women’s prison. She got out a couple

“Fine,” Bland ~exclaimed. “We'll
make a check of the fingerprints right
away.”

“There’s one other item of interest,”
Eisen told him. “This Patricia Skene’s
maiden name was Hurley. Her brother
is Ronald Hurley, one of the two men
who escaped from Chino with Richard
~Nowlen.”

The loose ends were now beginning
to tie together. At once Bland passed
on the information to Homicide Lieu-
tenant Keene: who lost no time in driv-
ing out to Chino for a face-to-face in-
terview with Robert Hurley.

The slain girl’s brother professed
shock and_ bitter anger at the news that
his sister: and Richard Nowlen, his
former prison mate, had been mur-
dered. But he insisted he had no knowl-

' edge of why or by whom. All that he

would admit was that he had intro-
duced Nowlen to his sister, and that

_ they planned on going north to Canada

as soon as they collected enough money.
Next, William Skene was interviewed
at Tehachapi Prison. He, too} evinced
shock at hearing the news but at the
same time claimed he knew. nothing of
his former wife’s recent friends or ac-
tions.
“It was none of my business,” he
said flatly. “We were all washed up.
She went her way and I went mine.”
The next step was to find Patricia

Skene’s parents and break the news to .

them. They admitted sorrowfully that

Patricia had been wild and headstrong,

but blamed most of her trouble on the

~bad crowd she had fallen in with. They

said they hadn’t seen her in over a

month but had an address in the Len- ~

nox area where she had been living.
That was the next stop for Homicide
Lieutenant Keene. There he learned
that a man, that neighbors identified
from a photograph as Richard Nowlen,

had moved in with her about a month

before. But the two had moved out on
August 3lst and hadn’t been seen since.
Now the question was—where had

they been during the week that elapsed /

before their wanton murder? :

A partial answer’ to that question
came in another report from Sergeant
Eisen. He called up to report that the

_victim of a cafe robbery that had taken

place about a week before in Pasadena
had just picked Nowlen’s mug _ shot
from the Rogue’s Gallery as the rob-
ber who had made off with just over

$1000 in loot,

Now Keene and his men redoubled
their efforts, first attempting to find
bars and. cafes in the Lennox area that

Nowlen and Patricia Skene might have

frequented, and once these were found

trying to run down drinking ¢c Compas:

ions of the pair.

It was a long and painstaking ob,
filled with false leads and blind alleys.

The investigators learned that both’

Nowlen and Pat Skene liked to hit the
bottle, and that the last time they: were
seen Nowlen had been buying drinks

‘for the house. They found drinking

companions, but most claimed to be

just that— barroom Pan ncances and

nothing more. ve

Finally, however, : one Sharky lead

was discovered that surprisingly proved
fruitful. This was when- one of these
professed barrogm acquaintances was
caught in his own lies. For it devel-
oped that, contrary to his own state-
ments, the man calling ‘himself Tom
White was an old: friend of Richard

- Nowlen. Then it developed that White’s

real name was Wiggins, and that he
had a police record.
“But I didn’t have anything to “dc

with this last caper of Dick Nowlen’s,”

he kept insisting. “I'm clean and Ei

want to stay that way.” - ts Ft Th

Bit by bit the homicide men wormed
a partial story out of him. According
to his account, he had been asked to a
party on the night of Friday, Septem-
ber 4th, at the home of one Joseph
Poe. Besides Joseph Poe and_ his
common-law wife, Sandra Grounds, an-
other man, Lawrence Garner, along

with, Rickard Nowlen and - Patricia. :

4 Continued on page $2).

oe.

“

om

ae
Seal

fa
DRE pastel ae!


ders had taken place elsewhere and the
bodies brought to the spot where they
had been found. But the evidence of

‘target et the pop bottles and the’
ed .38 and .45 shells seemed to ©

discar
contradict that theory.

Evidently there had been harmless, ;

.innocent gunplay at first. Gunplay that
eventually turned more deadly and
ugly.

But why?

Lieutenant Keene questioned Eric
Aduddell who had reported the crime.
“When was the last time you or any
of your workers were by here?”

Aduddell had a quick answer. “That
would have been Friday afternoon, just
before we knocked off wérk. Nobody
was out here yesterday—it was Labor
Day and a holiday. I came out early
this morning just to make sure that all
the supplies were on hand before the
» road workers arrived.”

Keene:turned to Deputy Coroner A. -

C. McCann. “Can you give us any idea
as to how long they’ve been dead?”
McCann shook his head. “Not with-
oyt an autopsy, and even then ‘it won’t
be easy. The combination of the dry
desert sun and the fact that during the
night the asphalt paving material on
which they were resting retains heat
will change the normal time schedule
for rigor mortis and its after-effects.

Right now I'd say they’ve been dead at :
least 24 hours, but how much longer is , -

anybody’s guess. They could even have
_ been killed Friday night, as far as that
goes. :

that made it seem likely that the mur-. _

“ “They wouldn’t -have been indulging :
in target practice at night,” Deputy

Patterson objected.

“Who knows?” Keene continued. “In >”

a murder, anything is possible.”
Before the bodies were put into a
hastily summoned ambulance to be
taken to the George Air Force morgue
in Victorville for autopsy, another search
was made for possible clues to identifi-

cation. The dead man’s pockets, however,‘
contained only 47 cents in change and © |

a single sheet of note paper, now blood-

stained and indecipherable. Nothing oe

more. But under his body was another

crumpled bit of paper, obviously torn -
_ from a_ notebook, with an address ..:
scrawled in pencil: 5364 East 20th, :

Hawthorne. That was all.

Once the bodies had. been taken
away, Homicide Lieutenant Keene be-
gan assigning deputies to make a spot

check of all the roadside cafes, bars,

motels, and service stations along High-
way 395, as*well as along Highway 66,

which for a short distance out of Hes- ~’
peria, runs parallel to 395 before ‘it -

turns east through Bartow heading to-
ward Las Vegas.

Meantime, San Bernardino chemist
Anthony Longhetti began his own me-
ticulous work. A broken pair of eye-
glasses with clear plastic frames, along

near the man’s body. Longhetti care-

fully placed them in an official envel- = tt

ope for later study in the laboratory.

-’ At the same time he gathered up the ~

soda pop bottles that had been used as
targets. These, too, could be expected ::
to reveal prints. At the same time he |
began gathering up the cigarette butts ©.
scattered about the paving block heap 3: °

that had served as a resting place for

the murdered couple. There were three *
different brands of cigarettes indicated, /*. °

Just one partial tire track was found.
near the asphalt heap. That was photo-

graphed and then a plaster moulage

made. The empty cartridgé shells were

gathered ‘up and carefully marked for

identification. So, as well, was one .45.
slug that was dug out of the asphalt.

pile. Z :

Back at headquarters the homicide oF

men tried to tie the various loose ends
together inorder ‘to establish some
definite thread of investigation. First,
there was the scribbled address found

. underneath the dead man’s body. Rou-. > ie

tinely, a call was put through to the

authorities at .“"Hawthorne, on the off- °
** chance that that might be the town én-”

dicated. t
While this was being done a call.

came through from Deputy Coroner
McCann in Victorville. He was await-' ’

a:

the noted pathologist, to perform thor: ~
ough autopsies on the two bodies. In
‘the interim, however, he had added in- ~

formation for the homicide men. Tat-

“too marks had been discovered on both...
“bodies. On the right fore-arm of the

man a bald eagle in flight had been ~
‘tattooed. On the girl’s left leg, just

above'the knee, there was a name tat-

+ tooed. This tattoo, however, was an old
~“f_ one and only the first two letters of a

word “SK-———” could be. made out
. clearly.
Even so, it was the first definitive bit
“of description to go on. San Bernar-
dino Sheriff Bland ordered descriptions
of the two victims, along with the few

‘sketchy details of the crime, to be .
broadcast not only throughout, Cali-_“*
~~ was that of robbery, for the girl’s hand-
~ bag was missing as well as any wallet
~ the man might have carried. But rob-

fornia but to the police authorities in
_ the neighboring states. :
Shortly a call came through from

‘> the authorities at Hawthorne, The ad- -
- dress on East 12th had been checked." ~

‘A couple, Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Driggs,
resided there. They professed to have

‘no knowledge of anyone approximating ;

the description of the slain couple.
Moreover, both had perfect alibis for
the long holiday week-end. According
to all their neighbors, both of them had
‘been home all during that time.

That was as far as the investigation
got that Tuesday. The following morn-
ing, Dr. Mobglin fmished his autopsies.
‘He, too, refused to approximate the
time of death due to the condition of
the bodies and the circumstances in

*) which they were found. Nevertheless,

which both had met death. According
to his reconstruction the pair must
have been kneeling, facing each other,
at the time they were slain. The girl
was shot first, with the killer standing
behind her, firing a single shot that
entered the back of her skull and came

>. out between her eyes, then entering the
*man’s groin. Another shot had gone
‘into the top of the man’s head, killing

him instantly. vas :
That made the picture even more
confused. Had the pair been kneeling,

. facing each other on the top of that

pile of paving material, and been shot
without warning? Or had both been

on their knees, begging for mercy? It
< was anybody’s guess.

So far the only conceivable motive

bery alone as a motive didn’t fit into
the manner of death nor the way in
which the bodies had been stretched
out in ‘a weird parody of peaceful
slumber afterwards.

Meanwhile, the San Bernardino

- chemist Longhetti, was busy in his

laboratory. First of all he attempted to
bring out the writing ‘on the blood-
stained letter taken from the dead
man’s pocket. With the use of various
chemicals he was able to bring out a
few provocative words, starting with the
salutation “Dear Patty,” and then a
few other disconnected words that
‘seemed to indicate the writer had been
seeking a reconciliation.

Did this mean that jealousy had been

* the motive of ‘the double slaying? It

was still anybody’s guess. _

Next, Longhetti turned his attention
to the ring on the man’s finger. A check
with Los Angeles wholesale jewelers re-
vealed that the ring was a class ring ©
manufactured by a company in Minne-
sota specializing in such things. A sketch
and photograph of the emblem was im-
mediately sent to the company by wire-
photo, with the request that it be checked
against order files to determine what
school had ordered such rings.

While this information was awaited,
Longhetti turned his attention to the
shoes the man had been wearing. The
serial numbers were recovered and a
wire sent to the manufacturer, seeking
to learn what retail shop had handled
them.

Finally, and most difficult of all, was
the job of taking fingerprints from the
victims. A combination of decomposition
and the blistering desert sun had shriv-
eled the fingers of both. It was neces-
sary to peel the skin carefully from
these shriveled fingers and then stretch:
it over wax molds in order to obtain the

_ needed prints. When, taken, it was found

that the girl’s prints .matched those
found on the soda pop bottles that had
been set up as targets at the scene of
the slaying.

That seemed to indicate that the girl
at least had been on the scene volun-
tarily.

While these positive steps were being
taken the usual number of false leads,
rumors and reports came in to the’ sher-
iff’s office. Innumerable people in cafes,
gas stations, and bars throughout San
Bernardino and adjoining counties were
positive they had seen the murdered
couple at varying times up to an hour
before their bodies were discovered.
Sometimes, according to these reports,
the couple had been alone, and some-
times they had been in the company of
others. Each report had to be carefully
checked out. Each report led exactly’
nowhere.

By Thursday morning the murdered
pair was still unidentified. Then, in the
middle of the morning, a wire came
through from the Minnesota jewelry
concern. Rings such as that worn by
the slain man had been made in 1949
for a high school in San Marino, Cali-
fornia. :

And almost at the same time a wire
came in from the shoe manufacturer.
Shoes with the serial number of those
“worn by the murder victim had been
sold to a shoe store in San Marino.

That seemed to provide one definite

(Continued on page 50)

he was able to indicate the manner in

aii tha

with a cigarette lighter, had been found ing the arrtval of Dr, F. Rene Mobglin, .

ee a aed

27° ;

go
.

<feth fi

Double Murder Splits

The 4 Honevmooners
(Continued from Page 50)

Skene were to be there. Among other
things to be discussed were plans for
heading north to Canada and then east,
financing the trip with a few robberies.
“That was the idea,” Wiggins. re-
peated. “That was why I didn’t go to
the party. I wanted to keep my nose
clean.” He insigged he didn’t know -
what had happened after that.
However. he was able. reluctantly, to
supply Joseph Poe’s address. Keene

_ and his men hurried there, only to find

they were too late. Poe and his com-
mon-law wife had already moved out.
taking their personal possessions with
them. But in making a careful check of
the house. Keene came across the num-
ber of Lawrence Garner written inside
the telephone book.

That was the next stop. Here, too,

_ the investigators were too late. Garner

had already packed up and left. But a
careful search of the house turned up
a purse with papers identifying it as
belonging to Patricia Skene and a wal-
let with papers in the name of Richard
Lee Nowlen.

Neighbors were questioned, and one
of them came up with the information
that Garner had mentioned going to
Mexico—she thought to a place called
Ciudad Obregon.

Keene reported back to headquarters
with this latest information and at once
Sheriff Bland got on the telephone to
Ciudad Obregon, in the state of Soriora.
Mexico.

In short order the jefe de policia of
that Mexican city had the information
sought. Not only was Lawrence Garner
in Ciudad Obregon, but so was Sandra

Grounds. A man named Clifford Red

had also been with them, but he had
left two days before.

Bland thanked him, promised to keep
him advised of developments, and then
hung up. Immediately he went into
conference with the legal authorities,
deciding on the next step. It was taken
for granted that if warrants were sent
own to Mexico, and the pair arrested
there. a long and lengthy extradition
proceeding would ensue. There would
be too many legal loopholes through
which they might escape.

Thus it was decided to ask the co-
operation of the Mexican authorities.
Another call was put through to Ciu-

_ dad Obregon and the circumstances ex-

plained.

As a result. the Mexican authorities
routinely ordered Sandra Grounds and
Lawrence Garner out of the country on
the grounds of being undesirables. But

o,

—and this not routinely—the Mexican
police kept a careful eye on them as
they journeyed up to the border. just
across from Nogales, Arizona.

On the U. S. side, Lieutenant Oxne-
vad was waiting for them as soon as
they cleared customs:

Flown back to Vidiorville Garner
kept protesting his innocence until, he
was shown the purse and wallet be-
longing to the murdered pair found in
his rooms.

Then, with a callous shrug, he con-
tessed. “I only wanted to knock ofl

. Nowlen. But I figured the girl would

maybe talk later, so I let her have it.
too.’

The ‘reason ? Acsordina | to Garner’s
cold-blooded story. Nowlen and Patricia
Skene were driving to Las Vegas to get
married. He and Sandra Grounds were
just along for the ride—and to help in
a series of holdups that would provide

cash for a prolonged honeymoon.

“Nowlen got too uppity—too supe-

rior-like.” Garner complained. “I want-
ed to pull out of the deal and said so.
But he threatened me if I did.
‘ “So when we stopped in the desert.
after leaving Adelanto, to have some
fun target shooting, I shot Nowlen
when nobody was looking. Then I went
back to the car where Pat was sitting
and told her there had been -an. acci-
dent. She rushed up to where Nowlen
was laying, and put his head in her
lap. That was when I blasted her in
the back of the head.”

Then he gave one bit of added in:
formation.
Grounds while in Mexico so that she
wouldn’t be legally required to testify
against him.

On September 21st, the newly. mar-
ried couple were arraigned in the Vic-
torville justice court on a joint charge
of murder, and held without bail.

On October 6th. District Attorney
Lathrop took the case before a special
session of the county grand jury, which
indicted both Lawrence Garner and

‘Sandra Grounds Garner for murder.

As this is written, both Garner and
his wife are awaiting the trial in su-
perior court which will determine their
exact degree of innocence or guilt in
the wanton double slaying that halted
a crime-financed honeymoon before it
ever began.

EDITOR'S: NOTE: To avoid néedless em-
barrassment to those ‘innocently con-
mected with this case, the ‘names of
Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Driggs. and .Tom
EW hits) Wiggins are fictitious.

THE END

He had married Sandra |

(Continued from

~ [t-was just 6 p.m.-wh

the now familiar voice.
. know if the. father. was

drive to Los Angeles.

“What the -kidnaper d

course. was that the Hart

heen tapped. The call. «

made on a San Jose: pho
’ traced.

And the man with ie V
long agonizing days and:
such unspeakable terror {
ones of Brooke Hart. was
rat in a trap.

_ Law officers swept es
Market Street garage an
liam J. Emig yanked Thor
out of a phone booth just
ishing his last call to the

Thurmond. 30 years ole
station attendant. was hu:
San Jose police station. A
several hours of relentles

he confessed. “4
It was a confession tha
on horror. and brought

heartbreak to the Hart fa:
in an hour after he was kid
Hart had been brutally
Thurmond and an accon
wire-trus-ed body dum;
Francisco Bay.

Thurmond named his
Jack Holmes. also 30. wh.
heen fired as a salesman |
pany. Holmes. was taken
a short time later in a $
room.

Holmes, who was well
Jose, also confessed, tellin
the same grisly story fi
Thurmond. The prisoners °
agreement on the reason
murder.

“Whe thought it would
him out of the way,” the
by Federal Agent R. E.
didn’t want to take the
escaping and giving us av

“So we just bumped +

Max Blum, a personal
the tragic news of Brooke
father. ee ee

“Alex,” said Blum, “you

Hart, who had never «
for his son’s safe return.
speak. His lips moved,
came. Then he fainted.

Brooke’s mother, who h:
dergone an operation, ar
and sister also were pr!
grief. ;

In his lea leusinn: ‘Thur
ted the kidnap scheme to

Oe ae ee

Se

Se - a HF
n Prison, ove

In 1861 San Quenti

Escape fr

rlooking San Francisco Bay, took over criminals imprisoned on brigs in the Bay.

ee pa

ING

We

~ 4 _
We ee a

Ag

rine sk is “a

om these hell-ships was impossible and on the EUPHEMIA men

who made the attempt were “gifted” with the “iron boot,” in which
it was impossible to stand, walk or sit; many who wore
the terrible contraption died from the complications it created...

Cures REIGNED ABOARD THE NOTORIOUS La
Grange, judging by the cries of anguish and the screams
of pain which could be heard ashore. The dark gray grain ship
had been converted into a floating prison by Sacramento law-
men. They devoutly hoped the brig would hold the overflow of
human riffraff that had poured into the heart of California,
intent on invading the Mother Lode for their share of the stuff
everyone else was scrabbling for—gold!

For months the presence of the La Grange opposite the I
Street Dock, Sacramento's busiest area of port activity, had
made the citizens of. California squirm with feelings of guilt
and uneasiness, for the La Grange was a hell ship for sure,
and to be condemned to serve time aboard was an invitation
to slow torture and, likely, eventual death. Few of those who
boarded the vessel, fettered and chained, ever left alive!

The day was June 27, 1856, and it was a time for hanging—
there was to be an execution at high noon, and the victim was

10

on the La Grange. The vessel was Sacramento's first city jail.
It had arrived in San Francisco on September 17, 1849, under
the command of Captain Joe Dewing, and had been chartered
by the Salem and California Mining and Trading Expedition.
As such, it was used for various purposes, but mostly to hayl
in grain and flour to San Francisco from southern ports. There
were large profits to be made, especially when hungry Forty-
niners were willing to pay a dollar for one cup of flour.

By 1850, the La Grange owners had hit upon bad times.
Crews of vessels landing in San Francisco were abandoning
their ships by the hundreds. There were fortunes to be made
in the Mother Lode and the glitter of gold was calling. Why
risk death in a storm at sea, poor pay, the lash of a sadistic cap-
tain's whip, or constant worm-infested food which gave you
scurvy—when you might have Lady Luck on your side and
become a millionaire at the diggin’s in but a fortnight?

Thus the desperate law officials in Sacramento, lacking
space to house all the ruffians and criminals who had been

THE WEST

THE WEST MAGAZINE, August, 1969

3 Ail fitus. Furn, by Author,

ISLANDS OF HBbk:-——

$2

Abs

Sas =
(SESS aked=

Photo depicts delivery of a prisoner to former whaler which was converted into prison ship.

terrorizing the growing city on the Sacramento River, decided
to make use of a floating prison. The La Grange was purchased,
and its anchors dropped permanently into the muddy stream.
Soon the carpenters went to work to convert the large vessel
into a prison brig. By 1854, even after a new jail house had
been erected at Front and I Streets, right on the wharf, the city
continued to use the La Grange. It was a foolproof prison. No
one had ever made a successful escape in all the years of its
existence as a place of incarceration,
and the vessel remained as a warning to
the lawless until an unusual occurrence
in the winter of 1861.

On this hanging day of June 27th, 1856,
the man to go to the executioner’s scaf-
fold was Samuel Garrett, a man of 24
years who had come to the Mother Lode
to make a fortune, but discovered, as
had so many others, that the gold was
much too elusive.

Discouraged and hungry, Garrett
prowled the streets of Sacramento seek-
ing a job. There was unemployment at
this time because too many Forty-niners
were down on their luck, and had re-
turned cold and hungry from the Mother

few people were charitable enough to give handouts, not when
eggs were going for ten dollars a dozen, and a loaf of bread
was equal to a day’s pay.

ae at night Garrett paused at a general mercantile house
whose sign read “Our House.” It was located on Eighth Street
and was in virtual darkness and seclusion. Inside, proprietor
Amiel Bricknell was working on his books. He was being helped
by his attractive daughter, Harriet, who
had just turned seventeen.

Hearing a noise at his front door,
Bricknell surprised Samuel Garrett just
as he was about to break in the glass
window with a stone. At his daughter's
insistence, Bricknell held off calling
the sheriff and told the young man to be
gone, but at that moment his daughter
impulsively thrust a few coins into the
surprised young man’s hand.

It was enough money for food, a few
days lodging, and a visit to the barber.
Obtaining a secure position as a clerk,
Samuel Garrett began to seriously woo
Harriet. She was not only pretty, but
she was the only person who had shown

Lode, and just a bit desperate. In those “Oregon Boot,” modified from earlier, him kindness. She had given him a new

days, it was every man for himself, and
THE WEST

larger torture device used by brigs. start in life.

wi

JTTOO Foquse

wot eee

*

Feruso

*9SQT=Le~9

|

Cabin 10, idyllic for love
tryst, housed passions which
flamed into deadly violence,

22

He married the boss’ daughter,
spent weekends with
his pretty girl friend

Ce 5.2 SORE

POLICE FILES

OCTOBER, 1963.

She clerked in jewelry store, fell in love and out of love, was murdered.

% SHE WAS a young and beautiful brunette, and she
was stretched out on her back on the bed in the San
Leandro, California, tourist bungalow, her hands clasped
over her bosom as in sleep. Sheriff H. P. Gleason, of
Alameda County, leaned forward for a closer look.
Were it not for the tiny blue hole in the side of her head,
and another below the shoulder, Gleason could have be-
lieved she was sleeping. He turned away from the corpse,
his eyes slowly sweeping the length and breadth of the
tiny room, not missing a detail that morning of July
17th, Then he spoke, his voice grave.

“This is about the neatest killing I ever saw,” Sheriff
Gleason commented. “The person who did the girl in must
have been very fastidious and unwilling to have an outsider
view his handiwork under unfavorable conditions.”

An anonymous informant had called the Oakland police
around four A.M. and said there was a body in the cabin.

The caller was a man whose voice was edged with tenseness.

POLICE FILES

He promptly hung up when police asked him to identify him-
self.

The cream-colored venetian blinds were drawn when
Gleason entered. But as they were opened, and sunlight
flooded the rooms, gasps of astonishment went up from the
group of officers huddled in the doorway.

Alongside the bed was a table on which was a vase with
an attractively arranged cluster of red carnations. Leaning
against the vase was a photograph of a good-looking clean-
cut man about 35.

On the floor, against the far wall, sat an expensive
portable phonograph and some symphonic records. One
was on the turntable—an orchestral arrangement of Debussy’s
romantic nocturne, “Claire de Lune.” The needle had stop-
ped on an inside groove of the record.

Not far from the phonograph were a suitcase and a shoe
box. The former contained feminine wearing apparel; the
latter a quantity of personal correspondence. os

xfydse feqtym **g eTTse_ “HISEID

LET

*C76T ‘ec Atenuer *(Aqunog epoweTy) *FTTeD pe

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3
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24

The bungalow was divided into a three-room apartment.
In addition to the bedroom-living room, there were a
kitchenette and a bath. These, too, were neat as a pin.

The proprietor of the tourist court said a man and a
woman had arrived on Wednesday evening and registered as
Mr. and Mrs. Lester B. Girard. “At least, that’s the way
I was able to make out his signature,” the man added. He
assigned them to Cabin 10. .

During Thursday, he had seen the man around the
place. What he thought was a radio played incessantly,
mostly one tune over and over. Gleason pressed the starter
of the phonograph, and the soft strains of “Claire de Lune”
poured forth from the speaker.

“That's it!” the proprietor said. “He almost drove me
nutty with that thing. It kept going hours at a time.”

Gleason looked at the registry card. To him, also, the
scrawled signature looked like “Mr, and Mrs. Lester B.
Girard.”

But the girl on the bed wore no wedding band—only
a colored stone ring resembling a sapphire and a pendant
necklace with two solid gold hearts attached. There was
an inscription in the ring, reading: “Te-Dorena from Les.”

“That’s her name, all right, Chief,” said Deputy Dick
Condon, who had been inspecting the shoe box full of
mail. “Every one of these letters is addressed to her—Miss
Dorena Hammer, South 11th Street, San Jose. They’re
all signed ‘Les.’ ”

Suspect (below, I.), is fingerprinted by Police Sgt. Wm. Mortland, to determine if he shared cabin with girl (above).

POLICE FILES

HE sheriff went over and scanned-the mail, all of which

seemed to be written in the same torrid vein. He selected
at random a note and read: “Dorena, my darling, Humble
words could never express how I love you, how I adore
you. Always remember that. Your Les . . . September 15,
1941.”

The sheriff let the note flitter back toward the box.

Meanwhile, Criminal Deputy Harry Adams was combing
the neat death suite for clues. Under the bed, he found
a .25 caliber automatic pistol and three ejected shells.

“A cute little toy,” he told Gleason, handling the weapon
gently in his handkerchief, “but as deadly as any at close
range. From the size of that hole in her temple, I'd say this
gun did the job.”

Gleason nodded. “Looks like the sort of thing a woman
would be toting around,” he ventured.

“Sure,” Adams replied. “Either the dead girl herself
or someone who didn’t like her worth mentioning.”

The sheriff picked up the man’s picture. “This could
be Girard,” he said, “but there’s no inscription.”

“A nice looking guy,” Adams conceded. “Judging from
those letters, he and Dorena were. pretty lovey-dovey.”

Gleason looked back toward the letters. “Why would the
girl be carrying them around in a shoe box?”

Adams shrugged. “Maybe this meeting was the kiss-off,”
he said. “She could have been handing ‘em back with a
‘No more of the same, thanks.’ ”

POLICE FILES

elas <i “Aj

What was connection between carnations, man’s photograph on bedstand, and bloodstain of slain girl on bed?

“Or somebody found those notes and came over here for
a_ showdown.”

“Possibly. Maybe Girard was married to some other
dame. Or Dorena could have been cooling off on him with
somebody else—and that somebody else didn’t know about
Girard until just recently.” ee

Gleason thought back to the anonymous phone call
which the Oakland police were trying to trace. “Think
Girard gave the tip?” he asked.

“Could be. He may have left his sweetie here alone
and came back and found her dead. He preferred to phone
in his information so as not to get mixed up in a scandal.”

“You don’t think Girard is his real name?”

“I have my doubts.”

“Who do you think kept playing that phonograph record?”

Adams shrugged. “I couldn’t begin to guess. If it was
Girard, then he was sounding off with a requiem to a lost
love. If somebody else was doing it, it could have been
for the same reason. Or maybe it was an act of derision. The
piece could have meant something to Dorena and Girard.
A third party could have been figuratively thumbing his or
her nose at the girl—with music.”

The medical. examiner arrived, and Gleason and Adams
left him with the body and went out to question the residents
of the other bungalows. A number of them had heard
“Claire de Lune” being played over and over on Wednesday
and Thursday. And on Thursday (Continued on page 42)

25

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0 send COD. Til pay postman $1.08 plus
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ome ee cee cen a oy ane sae a co

Pe eet

handed, and Lana had been beaten by
a lefthanded man!

On Wednesday, after intensive ques-
tioning, he finally conceded that it was
he, too, who had murdered the teen-
ager from New Chicago. He had been
sitting in a pick-up truck in the woods
when Lana came down the lonely road.
He had seen her several times before,
in a restaurant, but didn’t know her.
He had forced her into the truck,
taped her, then beat her when another
truck came along and she tried to
scream. He had not known she was
alive when he buried her.

Again a procession of armed men
and one chained man went from the
county jail to the airport, and once
more Brown led them to a grave—the
exact spot from which police had re-
moved the corpse of Lana _ Brock.
Moreover, he took them to a clump of
brush where they found the girl’s miss-
ing wallet,

There was little doubt that George
Brown was the rapist terror of the

\ A

Chicago suburbs, He admitted guilt,
too, in four or five other cases, “They
were only attacks—I didn’t bury them,”
he said.

Confirmation of his admissions of
Tape and rape attempts came when the
Hobart High School sophomore identi-
fied Brown’s picture as that of the man
who had tried to attack her only a
short distance from her home early
the previous March,

Two charges of murder were filed
against Brown, a construction worker,
on May 2nd, 1957, in Lake County
Criminal Court at Crown Point.

Charged with murder in the first de-
gree in both the Mildred Grigonis and
Lana Brock cases, George Brown was
tried and convicted of the two murders
on December 14th, 1957. Judge Wil-
liam J. Murray sentenced him to death
in Lake County, Indiana, criminal
court. The usual appeals followed, and
after exhaustive court action the original
conviction was upheld and the execu-
tion was scheduled.

QUARRELING LOVERS
(Continued from page 25)

they had noted a convertible car in front
of Cabin 10. .

“Did the ‘Girards’ arrive in a con-
vertible?” the sheriff asked the auto
court proprietor.

The man shook his head. “No. A
sedan. And I haven’t seen it leave. It
could be in the garage attached to the
cabin.”

When Gleason and Adams looked,
the garage was empty. The sheriff asked
the neighbors if they had seen Girard’s
machine pull out, but no one had.

HE girl had been found dead on

Friday, July 23, 1942. According to
the medical examiner, she had been
killed sometime Thursday, or about
the time the convertible was seen at
the bungalow. It was around that time,
too, that the phonograph was blaring
out its doleful melody. So the converti-
ble, the music, and the murder seemed
to go together.

There were three bullet holes in
Dorena Hammer’s body — in the left
temple, left breast, and under the left
armpit. But Gleason and Adams weren't
able to find anyone who had heard the
shots. They suspected why, looking at
the phonograph again and noting that
the volume was turned up.

Gleason, back in his office, set the
wheels of his investigative machinery
in motion, using Adams, Deputy J. H.
Morris, and Detective Hugo Radruch,
the latter being attached to the office.
of the Alameda County district attorney.

“Sergeant Rossi of the Oakland police
got that anonymous call this morning,”
the sheriff told Adams. “He was check-
ing with the operator to find out where

it came from. Get in touch with him
and see what he’s learned.”

He gave Morris a notation of the
girl’s address, as culled from the love
notes. “Call the San Jose police,” he
ordered, “and have them visit this 11th
Street place. I want to know every-
thing they can tell us. about Dorena
Hammer.”

As the deputies went into action
over the phones, the sheriff studied the
small-caliber pistol, the phonograph, and
the letters brought from the murder
bungalow.

Collectively, they fitted the pattern
of idyllic, though frustrated, love that
Gleason had drawn of the case.

The ownership of the gun that had
been used to kill the beautiful young
girl remained to be proved. Whether
the phonograph and records ‘were the
girl’s or her admirer’s could not be
determined at the moment.

If-the man in the photograph was

Girard, this showed that the girl was
still sweet on him. And another person,
seeing the picture there in Girard’s ab-
sence, could have gone suddenly ber-
serk. . ;
But perhaps the photo was that of
some new admirer. In that case, it
could have been Girard who resented
it.

The only mystery about the letters
was who had brought them to the
bungalow. If it had been Dorena her-
self, then it could have been, as Adams
said, a “kiss-off.” Girard not only was
getting his love notes back, he was
also on the receiving end of a “brush.”
The suitor might not have liked that.

But if some third party had stum-
bled across the notes and learned that
Dorena and Girard were at the bunga-
low, he or she could have caught up
with the girl when Girard was away.

Adams broke into the sheriff's reve-

POLICE FILES

ries. “Rossi traced that call,” he said.
“It came from a hotel in Fresno. |
called the place, but they have no one
named Girard registered.”

Gleason checked his watch against
the wall clock. “It’s 120 miles,” he
said, “but, you’ve still got time to run
down there and ‘look around. We'll
keep you informed on anything we
learn up at this end.”

Adams was heading his car south-
east out of Oakland when Morris and
Radruch came in to report.

“The San Jose police checked the
address on 11th Street,” Morris told the
sheriff. “Dorena Hammer lived there
for a while last fall while she was at-
tending the San Jose State College. Her
landlady says she went up to Oakland
before Christmas. °

“Do you know where?”

“Maybe, if the information is cor-
Tect. At the time Dorena said she was
registering at the Boeing School of
Aeronautics, at the Oakland airport,
for a meteorology course.”

“Good. Run out to the Boeing School
and see what they can tell you.”

As this pair was about to leave,
Gleason stopped them. “You said this
Hammer girl was living in San Jose
temporarily. Know where she_ hails
from?”

“Yes,” Morris replied. “At least, she
told her landlady something about com-
ing. from Glendale.”

The sheriff whistled, since Glendale

was a suburb of Los Angeles, 300 miles
to the south. “Maybe the Glendale
Police can find her folks and discover
why she left home,” he said.

Gleason dispatched a wire advising
the authorities in Dorena Hammer's
home town about the crime. He asked
for all the information they could dig
up for him.

Morris and Radruch quickly con-
firmed the fact that Dorena Hammer,
19, was a student at the Boeing School,
but they also learned she hadn’t been
in attendance since Wednesday, July
15. She lived with a family in Oak-
land.

She was a studious girl, from what
the officers discovered, and popular
with other members of her class. But

she never showed any particular in-

terest in any of the male students so
far as the school authorities knew.

Her landlady reported that she had
last seen Dorena late on the afternoon
of Wednesday, July 15.

“Some man drove her home,” the
woman said. “Dorena was only ‘here
about ten minutes. Then she left with
a suitcase and a box.” tsé«

“Did you know the man?”
Morris asked.

_The landlady shook her head. “I
didn’t even see him. He sat out in the
car—a big sedan. Dorena told me he
was her cousin.”

“Did she ever mention a man named
Girard to you?”

Deputy

“No. I never heard the name. She
had a beau named Jay Barker. He used
to come around here and take her out.
I’m sure he’s a student up at the Boe-
ing School.”

This seemed to be a contradiction
of what the school authorities Said
but the officers knew they might not
have been fully aware of the girl's
social activities.

“How was Dorena acting when she
—— last?” Morris asked.

“Very jolly,” the landlady replied.
“She told me she was relieved shoes
something; it was as if a great weight
had dropped from her mind.”

@ Officers asked to see the girl's *
room. As the landlady conducted them
up the stairs to the second floor, she
suddenly became apprehensive. “Has
anything happened to Dorena?” the
woman asked.

Morris was noncommittal. “We don’t
know yet,” he replied.

But once in the girl’s room, he spot-
ted a ig on the dresser. It
was a young girl in a smilin x
“Who is that?” he inquired. gies

“Dorena,” the landlady replied. “A
beautiful picture.”

Morris nodded. “Then something
has happened to your roomer,” he
said. “We found her murdered this
morning.”

The landlady stiffened and went pale.
om me poor girl!” she cried. “Who
id it?

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Murder Set
to Music

(Continued from page 14)

of Thursday, and when he did go out he
told Campbell not to let the maid disturb
his wife. Campbell says he heard that
phonogtaph playing most of the day.”
“I've got a report here from Glendale,”
Adams said. “Gireth telephoned his busi-
ness partner Thursday night from San
Jose. He didn’t say anything about the
murder, but he made an appointment to

meet his partner in Bakersfield later that,

evening. Apparently after he settled his
business he started back up here. Maybe
he intended to give himself up, maybe he
put in that telephone call on the spur of
the moment. But I think we can be pretty
sure that he didn’t kill her just to save her
from scandal.”

AT THE INQUEST held Wednesday,
July 23, before A. W. Bruner, justice of
the peace at San Leandro, Dr.

Deputy Condon, County Autopsy Surgeon
Dr. Gertrude Moore, and Frank Campbell,
owner of the Casa Del. Monterey, all testi-
fied. The jury promptly returned a verdict
charging Gireth with the murder of his
sweetheart.

Alameda County Attorney Ralph Hoyt
assigned Deputy District Attorney Joseph
Schonone to prepare the State’s case
against Gireth and announced he would
ask the death penalty.

Dorena Hammer’s body was taken to
Glendale and funeral services were held at
the Little Church of the Flowers in beau-
tiful Forest Lawn Memorial Park. Dorena’s
parents, her sister,
listened to the kindly man of God who
begged forgiveness for the pretty school
ay whose love affair had ended so tragi-
ca

On Wednesday, July 25, Gireth appeared
before the Alameda County Grand Jury.
The slender jeweler readily admitted shoot-
ing his sweetheart and indicated that he
intended to plead guilty to the charge of
murder. He clung tenaciously to his story
that he had murdered Dorena to save her
ie misery of becoming involved in a scan-
al.

Gireth steadfastly refused the services of
an attorney, but Albert Behrstock, a Glen-
dale lawyer and a brother of Gireth’s part-
ner in the jewelry business, announced
that he intended to enter a plea for Gireth_
—a plea of not guilty by reason of tempo-
rary insanity.

Before the end of the second week in
August, Gireth was taken before Superior
Court Judge Lincoln S. Church of Ala-
meda County.

The jurist carefully read the indictment
which charged the Hungarian-born jeweler
with first degree murder. Leslie Gireth
looked around the court when Judge
Church had finished his reading. He smiled
at his partner and three Glendale business
men who were sitting just outside the rail-
ing.

“Is it your desire to enter a plea at this
time ?”

“Yes.”

Attorney Behrstock stood up but Gireth
motioned him to his seat.

“I’m guilty, your honor.”

Judge Church promptly sentenced Leslie
Gireth to die in the lethal gas chamber at
San Quentin Prison.

The slayer’s fate was sealed, but this
bizarre case was not quite closed. Gireth
asked the district attorney’s office to return
the love letters which the officers had found
in that cabin, and which the State was

Black, '

and other relatives -

Then he turned to face the bench.-

4
holding as evidence.

When Ralph Hoyt refused the condemned
man’s request, the little jeweler who had
been unwilling to allow a lawyer to repre-
sent him—who had refused to put up any _
fight for his own life—promptly hired two
of Oakland’s best known attorneys and
instructed. them to bring legal action for the
recovery of the confiscated: love letters.

When Gireth entered San Quentin
Prison, to take his place in death row,
on August 14, 1942, he carried Dorena
Hammer’s love letters, the portable phono- °
graph, and the recording of: Debussy’s
delicate “Clair de Lune”—the same record
which less than a month earlier had played

a prelude to death in cabin 10 at Casa Del . a

Monterey.

.} <
For obvious reasons, the name “Roy ~~
Parker,” as used in this narrative, ts not
actual but fictitious.—Eprtor. wie.

*

Christmas |
Behind Walls

(Continued from page 23)

would open the locket and gaze at it with
love-hungry eyes, hoping that the young-— -
ster looked like “my little girl.” 4

Before the holidays the old fellow was
taken sick. He had a cough and his.
breathing | was terrible to hear. The prison }
“croaker,” a hard-boiled guy, as all prison
croakers are, said “Asthma” and gave him

‘ some ill- smelling junk to smoke in a pipe.

Just like a prison croaker. He’d give a
man a pill to mend a broken bone and a
pipeful of weed to piece a broken heart
together again.

One day, just before Christmas, Dad
came to me trembling like a leaf, but with
eyes bright and almost tearful with happy
excitement.

“She’s coming, Jimmy,”
a letter at me.
mas Day and she’s going to bring the baby !
Do you understand? She’s going to bring

he cried waving

the little fellow over here to see his grand- > ®
dad. Maybe they'll let me hold him on my . ~~
Oh, Jimmy, what a Christmas I’m -

knee.
going to have! Think of it! I’m going
to see my little girl and her boy at
last !”

I shook his hand and patted him on the +.

back and enthused with him, but there
was fear in me. I knew he couldn't stand

~~much more disappointment without losing “e
all hope, and once a man loses that the ©)
better part of him is dead. Still, I argued

that the girl couldn’t fail him on Christmas ©.
Day—not even a girl with those petulant, ~

selfish, pouting lips. :

Christmas Day came, a bright, sun-"
shiny, glorious day. Even a big house’s
bolts and bars and bitter rankling hatreds

disappear under the spell of the Christmas » : ‘

spirit.

Guards and cons both feel it,
greet each other with a smile and a nod
on that day. Dad was like a kid going .
to his first school picnic. He spent the
whole’ morning cleaning his .clothes and |
getting barbered. He even got a con in
the tailor shop to crease his trousers. He
had a merry greeting for everyone. He
gave away all of his carefully saved to-
bacco, and when I protested at his gener-

osity he told me that he wanted all the =.
_ boys to have as perfect a Christmas as.

his was to be. 3

“You know, a little gift, even a sack of
tobacco, that shows somebody is thinking ©
_ kindly of you, means a lot to a man in”

“She’s coming on Christ-~ ©

and}


“up

tion he never had. His remarks about
‘furrow’ and ‘penctration’ are sexual
symbols to rationalize his actions."
Somewhere after 2:30 a.m. on August
2. Glatman finished digging a shallow
trench — actually, a neat furrow — and
he rolled Judy Dull into that trench. Us-
ing the small spade he had stored in the.
trunk of the 1953 Oldsmobile. he scat-
tered three feet of sand over her body. He
left the knotted skipping rope around her
neck, a fatal miscue as he found out later.
Over the months, brisk winds swept

away the sand over the grave. On De- |

cember 19, shortly before sunset, Judy
Dull’s bleached bones were discovered
by fourchitchhikers who paused to rest
some 200 feet west of the lonely
highway. .
Authorities were stumped. In August.
Judy Dull’s disappearance had been offi-
cially recorded. Investigators couldn't
link her with boyfriends. employers or
even presumed enemies. The girl's pat-
tern of living was so normal that cops
figured. ironically, someone abnormal
had entered her life. ;
Two neighbors had noted a caller with
a ‘‘repair box’ who arrived in,an un-
marked sedan. It was “*Timmins.*' of
course, the TV repairman who had been
questioned far back in 1951 for “*sexual-
ly accosting”’ a girl at aswimming club.
But how would the 1957 cops know that?
Furthermore. Judy Dull left no clues in
the apartment — like her jotted down
phone number for a TV repair shop. The
**High 1Q’’ Glatman had taken care of
that. He found it on a table and ripped it

In support of the theory he was of 161

IQ caliber, Glatman added a few

touches, leaving behind disconcerting

false clues in Judy’s apartment. The two-
room place looked spotless (he even

wiped off furniture and doorknobs to nul-
lify fingerprints). As the bound girl lay
senseless on the floor, his cool approach
included a scattering of three restaurant
menus — cops wasted two days checking
them out — a week-old San Francisco
newspaper, an empty bag once contain-
ing cat litter (Judy had no cat), several
match covers from a Chicago nightclub. |
a typed list of phone numbers. None of

them existed.

“This character was a genius in throw-
ing around phony clues.’ observed De-
tective Norman Schwartz, of the L.A.
homicide squad. .

While investigators chased ‘those
dead-end clues. Glatman quietly went
about his business of looking normal. He
carried out the TV repairwork right on
schedule, once more joined a swimming
club at a nearby pool. When the “‘situa-
tion looked unpromising,’* as he later

. spade and laid out Mrs. Bridgeford.

told police, he signed up for the Friendly
Folk, a thinly disguised lonely hearts
club in downtown Los Angeles.

On March 9, he was introduced to
Shirley Ann Bridgeford, 30, a sexy-
looking divorgee from Sun Valley, Calif.
They had a * {ihe conversation. ‘* accord-
ing to Glatman’s cheery thinking. and he
found himself **highly impressed’* with
those naked shoulders above a cocktail
dress.

In his precise manner. Glatman said at
his murder trial: ;

“**We made a date. J called for Mrs.
Bridgeford at her apartment and | liked
her semi-formal gown worn for the danc-
ing at the club. ~ .

Glatman sketched a glamorous picture
of his non-existing exclusive club. so
convincing, he recalled with his grotes-
que idea of comedy. that Mrs. Bridge-
ford kept him waiting 20 minutes fussing
with her hair-do. ,

Shortly after 8:30 p.m. on March 12,
Glatman headed his rental car toward the
Anza-Borrego Desert, a vast state park
55 miles east of San Diego. Mrs. Bridge-
ford sat up in alarm, protested such along
drive, but Glatman rattled on about the
“*exclusive place known only to a few
supper club connoisseurs."* His mono-
logue included his pitch about free-lance

' photography, that he headed up a **suc-

cessful plumbing company’’ and,
according to his belief in '*my persuasive
talents,”” he got across the idea of paus-
ing a half-hour to make photographs of
Mrs. Bridgeford for an ‘adventure pub-
lication. *’

One’ page of a Glatman confession to
L.A. police in 1°59 reads thus:

**l decided to make love to her and kill
her the same way I killed Judy. She went

along with the plan to allow pictures for
the magazine and wanted $150 as a fee.

**l gave her the money in twenties, took it
back after the incident.**

That *‘incident’’ proceeded in this
gruesome fashion: He trussed up Mrs.
Bridgeford, stripped her down to panties,
photographed her behind a thick screen-
ing of cactus plants about 800 feet off the
two-lane highway.

Using the identical washcloth gag, he
made (wo more. pictures, then brutally

raped and sodomized her, As she drifted

into a fainting spell, Glatman whirled a

-two-foot piece of skipping rope around

his victim’s neck and strangled her.

In the darkness, using a portable elec-
tric lamp for illumination. Glatman
scooped out a shallow grave with his

The very next day, Thursday, March
13, a low-flying small plane, out for a
brief spin, skimmed over the grave site.
The pilot couldn't miss the club. For

‘er the girl's body with sand, had flung a |

some weird reason, Glatman did not cov: |

bright-colored beach blanket over her in- |
stead. ,
Investigators studied the body careful-
ly and soon traced the obvious pattern.
Always the skipping rope. always the.
compulsion to dig a shallow cavity in the
ground.
But real clues to the killer eluded:
them. The site of the murder was hardly « ”
different from that of Judy Dull’s.
Nonetheless, Mrs. Bridgeford had been’) .
attacked, killed and abandoned in a de-.
sert environment slightly more popu- . °-
lated. at fag
About a half-mile west, homicide de.»
tectives found a battered, sun-bleached .
cottage occupied by Henry J. Loma-and
his wife, Terry. It was here they had a
stroke of good fortune, though it would ©
not emerge clearly until later. Loma had «~
seen Glatman and the girl, stopping to ~, .
talk with them a few miles north on the.
highway leading toward the Anza-.~
Borrego Desert. tee
“These two sat on the edge of the
highway eating ice cream, candy and: ,..
sunflower seeds.’* said Loma, revealing |.
his gift for sharp observation. **The
woman looked awfully upset, as if she 2
didn’t know whether she wanted to be’,
there, or not. Otherwise, it all seemed"
okay. Like the scene of a second-rate ©:
picnic. Oh... one other item. When I got” ° ,
out of my car to see if all was okay. this
guy strolled toward me. It was so quiet in
the area, | heard his new shoes squeaking “* >. -
loudly. Yeah, he. had squeaky black
shoes.”*
_ Detectives jotted down *‘squeaky |
shoes"* and discovered later that a prime.
clue had been supplied. And that clue.”
could have been thrown away. but fofa *.
detective with the identical gift of sharp. /
observation. 33
The autopsy of Mrs. Bridgeford’s ”
body revealed even more terrifying sad-.>, .
ism on the part of her murderer. Not only- *.
had she been rope-tied, raped and sodo-> **: ..
mized, but revolting gashes turned up?
near her rectum and a sharp instrument. %. ;
had been inserted into her vagina causing
copious bleeding. When the medical ex- * *.
aminer asked homicide detectives if they =
had the instrument, the answer was! >?

WORE

of TV servicing and kept his sickening ;

lust under control. He also read all newss;y

paper accounts of the two slayings, {«.'.
) Pas ob :

(continued on next page) _
° 47


The Killing Genius

(continued from page 47) —

Those accounts warned him to be on
alert. more than ever. Homicide detec-

tives now had a good physical picture of

him from witnesses. He seemed to give
them a pattern of his behavior, especially
the compulsion to visit desert land.

On the other hand, because of his
psychotic need he gave little attention to
‘the emphasis on skipping rope in these
newspaper stories. ‘‘Rope is a way of
understanding life.** he later told cops in
that sing-song voice.

Yet ‘“‘rope’* would eventually haul in
Harvey Glatman. Police technologists
were already probing the ‘nature of the
cordage”’ taken from the neck of a Glat-
man victim. The study of cordage, the
collective name for rope and tying mate-
rials, was relatively new in crime detec-
tion. But L.A. police had made admir-
able progress in the late 1950s with

plying gymnasiums, health centers.

_ even toy departments of most stores

around the L.A. area. '
» Glatman struck again the very day
laboratory sleuths had traced the kind of

_ cordage in the ‘‘cable’’ of a popular-

It was July 23, 1958, and Glatman,

~ scanning personal ras in a L.A. news-

paper, noticed an insert placed by Ruth
Rita Mercado, She described herself as a
model and ‘‘professional burlesque
artist,’ age 24, attractive, well-built and
secking ‘photographic assignments.”

Glatman phoned her immediately, rat-
tling off his non-existent references and
his recent orders from magazines to
‘‘illustrate model type layouts involving
a certain amount of stripping.”

Shortly before 7 p.m. he arrived at
Miss Mercado’s apartment neatly dres-
sed, carrying his camera and folding tri-
pod. The model seemed impressed. She
served him wine and biscuits, he happily
told the cops after his arrest, and she
listened avidly as he outlined his
‘*method’’ for making the pictures...

’

showing her copies of **adventure”’

es of how he was driven to rape-and-kill
fiendishly, L.A. cops were never sure as
: to why he postponed the murder of Ruth
Rita Mercado. It was a suicidal risk,
holding her at gunpoint in a remote
canyon, less than a half-mile from a well-

“I decided to wait until nightfall, This
sweet doll was the one I really liked. It
took me a long time to make up my
mind...”"

Detective Robert Boudreau wrote in
his 1958 report for the prosecution:

‘It was one of the most sickening,
vicious murders we had ever seen. Not
only did the perpetrator strangle her with
his usual skipping rope, but slashed her

‘across the left breast, cracked her skull

with a rock and then sexually abused the
corpse in various ways. There were also
seven long gashes... heavy. inch-deep
incisions on her buttocks and lower back.
**All these horrible things happened
over a period of five hours and his luck
was so unbelievable that it’s difficult to
understand how he avoided detection.
On the night of August 3, two events
occurred. One was a definite clue as to
where skipping ropes had been purch-
ased by a ‘‘thin, empty-faced guy”’ as
Glatman was pictured by a salesman at a
L.A. athletic supply store. That salesman
couldn’t help but .recall Glatman. He

nesses. In sum, investigators had an .§
obscure picture of the killer, of the Old- ©
smobile with the odd sign jon the, door. ©

They had little else. .
After each killing, Glatman vanished

BY

Set batt A an ei

analysis of fibers spun into twine, cord, magazines filled with such pictures. bought four skipping ropes at once. "4
. hemp and flax. Glatman, of course. had made none of ‘*] said to him... are you buying fora.
~~ Late in 1958, under powerful micre- them. team or organization?’’ the salesmantold » 4
scopes, L.A. Police Laboratory experts Glatman thrust $150 into Miss Merca- detectives. ‘‘He answered all four were ©.
«determined the ‘‘kind’*-of cordage used do's hand. Quickly, she obeyed him, for him. I asked him if the skipping ropes ‘B
around Mrs. Bridgeford’s neck. At the stripped down to bra-and-panties, satina were for his personal use, he answered: q
beginning. these dedicated .technicians wicker chair while he twirled a length of | **Yeah, I give them a hell of a workout in q
could not know that it was a fragment skipping rope around her body. my kind of work.’ He seemed so funny- "i
r snipped from a skipping rope, with plas- **She was a gorgeous hunk. Neversaw — looking in the eyes that I watched him 4
» tic knobs at each end. anything so sexy-lovey. She lived in a through the store window. He drove 3
One afternoon there was a brief cry of second floor back apartment, awfully | away in an older Oldsmobile with some ty
exultation from a laboratory technician. Close ‘to another flat whith. could have sort of ‘contractor’ sign pasted on the 4
By precise untangling of the murder ‘been occupied. door.”’
rope. using brilliant light, it became sud- ‘I took no chances, used the double- It was a significant step forward in the
denly clear the “‘core’” was 80 percent sized gag, stripped her siaked and did it to pursuit of the killer. Detectives now
sisal, a tough hemp made from plants her in the chair... three times. She was so knew the clues added up to information
exported from Yucatan. scared of me } figured I could take lots of — providing it was the same man, the same
‘*The average rope is ordinarily inter- chances...°" | ; car, the identical ‘‘irrigation’’ gimmick -
-weaved around hemp from Manila,”* the Glatman’s belief in this observation — solidly linked to the observations of John 4
lab documents advised cops investigat- was an understatement. Ina brazen series Feder, the rancher, who had been stand-
‘ing the murders. ‘‘This stuff is different, of perverse acts (his story went) he sodo- ing near the marker on the highway near
not used in commercial jobs where rope mized the girl, unfastened the skipping — Indio. |
is put together from Manila hemp dosed . rope. pressed a .38-caliber revolver ‘‘No doubt about it, the guy who>,
with oil or tar. against her back, ordered hertocoverher bought the skipping rope was the same
‘Sisal is the hard fiber used in the . nakedness. with a slip. i guy with Judy Dull, senseless. on the rear tf
heavy twines, or in cordage for athletic ‘+. then | made’her go out the back — seat,’’ read the final report of detectives . 4
equipment... like that around the pulleys — entrance and forced her into my car. I, to the L.A. prosecutor. **And we had) 3
of weight-lifting machines... and skip- lashed her legs with rope to the bottom of good evidence that it was the same guy. «(4
ping rope found in gymnasiums. *’ the front seat and didn’t use a gag be- seen by Loma... the guy eating ice cream )
So began a dogged search for the ori- Cause she kept fainting. I drove non-stop» with the scared-looking woman (Mrs. i.
gin of the ‘‘core’’ used in skipping ropes. all the way to desert country, staying — Bridgeford). The guy with the squeaking ©
Day-by-day checking by detectives Clear of Anza-Borrego territory by some shoes..."" 4k
reached into manufacturing plants turn- eight miles,” But a license plate had not been seen, °°
ing out skipping rope for retailers sup- In view of Glatman's rambling sketch- or memorized, by any of these vital wit- «4

te: (continued on next page)

.' priced skipping rope sold to stores.

iff traveled highway. |
¥ Same “48 i


into thin air, soon back at his TV repair
shop, adopting what psychiatrists called
later ‘*a normal pattern,”’ which had a
special meaning, indeed. as they recalled
Glatman’s words on the IQ test: **... you
will never.know what I think."’ |

On August!2, Glatman had an en-
counter with the whecel-of-chance. not
stopping at a number in his favor.

At the same time, however, Glatman
tossed out that phony clue which lured
detectives into another dead-end road.
When attractive, 20-year-old model
‘ Joanne Arena responded to one of his ads
for photographic models, he pressed into
* her hand an engraved card identifying
himself as **Mumford Penniman, Theat-
rical Agent’’ with a San Diego address.
When the girl looked puzzled, he ex-
plained: **1 am ina variety of occupations
involving TV and Hollywood careers. It
pays to keep in touch with me.’

Joanne Arena quickly discovered it
‘almost paid a dividend of disaster.

For an inexplicable reason — she real-
ly couldn't explain it to cops later — the
model abruptly decided to,pose for

**Penniman”’ with these explicit condi-

tions (1) she would drive her ow car (2) -

her girlfriend, Helen Vicks, also a mod-
el, would tag along to **see how a pin-up
picture is made.’

Faced with this unckpected develop-

‘ment, Glatman tried to entangle himself

/

from the assignment. Thé girl’s suspi-
cions were more aroused by his compli-
cated excuses to call off the whele

_ thing. She told cops later:

“It was strange. .I had this terrible feel-
ing he wanted to kill me. I knew it then..
even as we talked over the deal in my
apartment, Wasn’t it lucky I had Helen
Vicks in the apartment at the same time?

“This man went on and on... that he
had many other commitments and
perhaps we should get together some
other time to work out details. He had
gone to all this trouble. Now he couldn't
find time to do it. He rambled on how he
had a hobby of fixing TV sets. that he
sang in a church choir. That he kept him-
self in good shape by joining swimming
clubs..

Over the months, L.A. Detective Nor-

_ man Schwartz had sifted, tirelessly, hun-

dreds of complaints about sexual ‘de-
viants, child molesters, males sexually
exposing themselves, even the occasion-

al weirdo ‘‘trying to get a feel in public

places, ‘*as Schwartz once described it.
From his exceptional memory, almost

~ visual, he saw a thin male repairing TV
sets, a hymn book in hand, belting out a
spiritual in a church choir. *‘That’s how |

my memory functions.’’ Shwartz said
later. *"I get a vision, like ona TV screen,
of somebody acting out a role from frag-

convicted...

ments Of information put together, "*

Schwartz hurried back to: old files,
reaching back into the 1950s and finally
plucked out one **Timmins** questioned
and released because a 22-year-old
blonde dropped her charge she had been

“touched *ce a swimming club.

Precisely as Joanne Arena remem-
bered talking to **Mumford Penniman,”’
the clues began to emerge. True cnough,
seven years had passed and Timmins
should have long ago been forgotten, just
another minor sexual offender, never
all charges dropped.

**What stuck in my brain,’’ Schwartz
explained. **was the picture of the choir
singer trying to get a sexual touch, fid-
dling with TV sets, bragging about
staying in shape at a swimming club.
Like an oldtime movie.

**Along comes an alert Joanne Arena
fending otf a guy named **Penniman,”*
sensing he wanted to kill her, and telling
her — with too much coincidence —
about his TV sets, his church choir and
swimming." p

But Schwartz did not move swiftly on
this ‘*Timmins"’ currently performing as

‘*Mumford Penninman, Theatrical
Agent’’... and photographer’ of
mode $.

**Many years had gone by. We were
dealing with a Sharp individual. Maybe a
brilliant, psychotic killer. One had to
approach this suspect step-by-step,"
Schwartz put down i in his notebook. .

A discreet **cover’’ was put on Tim-
mins’ day-by-day behavior. Schwartz
and other L.A. homicide cops came up
with routine facts seemingly harmless —
and normal. Bu: iness and the TV repair
shop was brisk and its owner made ser-
vice calls without incident.

Timmins was pretty much of a loner,
too. He had few friends. certainly girl-
friends. His idea of relaxation, though,
soon aroused the curiosity of trailing
cops. He steadily went to cheap movie
houses where mildly pornographic films
were a specialty. Three or four evenings
in arow Timmins drove to various drive-
in movies alone — something most pat-
rons of these do not do.

‘In late August, 1958, Timmins saw —
three times — films like the Parson and
The Outlaw and Escape from San Quen-
tin... at a double feature drive-in. A few
nights later he favored Pick-up Alley and
Killer in the Shadows. He also made
regular stops at newsstands to buy three
or four “*sex magazines” at a time.

‘Newsstand owners told interviewing

cops his favorite paperback titles. On

August 12, Timmins asked one store |

Owner to acquire one called Last of the
Badmen who corrected him: ee mean
Last of the Killers.’

_my memory.’

On August 29, 1958, Timmins was
photographed by long-distance surveill-
ance camera. A few days later, investiga-
tors showed these pictures to the chief
librarian at a suburban location — librar-.
ies had been a favorite spot for molesting.
women, The astute woman, with a long
memory, quickly identified his picture
“as the man touching girls doing re-
search, **She could not forget him. There
had been a scuffle with one girl and the,
calling of police, bs

“Something of that sort doesn’t hap! 4
pen in libraries. You don't forget it. And
who it was.”* the librarian told police, **It -
was 1951, but seven years didn't affect

The man who had talked to Glatman’”
(Timmins) and the murdered Mfs. \.
Bridgeford — Henry J. Loma — quickly. °
recognized the picture of the killer eating »

‘4

candy and sunflower seeds north of the .. ‘

highway leading toward the Anza-. *

Borrego Desert. he mentioned again the '¥ i

face of the terrified woman and those.
**squeaky black shoes."* Now the inves-.

ra

tigators were enthused as they heard that’ %

clue once again. A suburban L.A. libra:
rian distinctly recalled the **loud squish’? -

of new shoes warn by the suspect in the -~

hushed atmosphere of a library — only a”
few minutes before he made sextal..
approaches to a girl student. "

At this crucial moment in the chase of

the still unnamed killer, Harvey Glatman ) Hf
walked into a sexual encounter which

made. in a sense. the long and tedious ty

ig:

hunt for him irrelevant.
On September 25, Lorraine Vigil. 28" +
u stunning brunette, answered one. of »~

-Glatman’s many ads for a photographic |

model. On the morning of September 26, ~
Glatman swung his car on to the Santa.
Ana Freeway and drove at high speed
‘toward the city’s outskirts.
The girl protested — according to her ’
later statement to police — and made:
such a fuss that Glatman had to stop his
car on a freeway shoulder. They strug- ;
gled. The girl was terrified and subdued,

So

however, when Glatman threatened’ to «4°
kill her with a .32-caliber pistol. He tried “y
to lash together her wrists with skipping. )°
rope and the model told cops later:, ha
‘I knew he was going’to kill me. 1’:
tried to plead but I knew Fro fights bee

wouldn't do any good. I decided to fight.’
I lunged at him before he could knot the -
rope on my wrists, I grabbed for his
gun...”

Glatman’s hand. One shot hurtled a bul-

let into her thigh, but she fought. her, i ‘

attacker fiercely.
At 3:05. p.m. State Police Rea

(continued on next page) -

“49

a 7%

The plucky girl wrestled the gun front as

ae


—eae

The Killing Genius

(continued from page 49)

Horace B. Cooke would remember that
wristwatch reading vividly — the inter-
twined couple bounced out of Glatman’s
car. Cooke wrote in his report 24 hours
later: *‘l had just glanced at the watch
when I observed this woman in a sitting
position on the pavement, a gun in her
right hand, trained on a middle-aged
male with a piece of rope in his right
hand. She was screaming ‘I will kill you
if you come closer,’ and I pulled over to
the highway shoulder."’

Cooke pulled his own gun, fired a
warning shot in the air just as the bab-
bling Glatman was about to throw him-
self at his fourth victim.

Six hours of questioning on September
28 by detectives who had pursued his
trail for so many months seemed to be
leading nowhere. Glatman, with his
shrewd brain working at high speed, de-
luged investigators with a complicated
story of (1) it was a lover's spat (2) the
piece of rope ‘“happencd to be in the car”’
and he was merely threatening Lorraine

. Vigil and (3) the girl was actually

**blackmailing’”’ him to make pictures for
a modeling career... that Miss Vigil was
a pathological liar. .
A summation L.A. homicide, squad
report on October 2 said, in part:
**During this same interrogation, De-
tective Schwartz... pointed casually at
Glatman’s polished black shoes and
noted he had bought a pair like them for
$32 a year ago and that they were trouble-
some. Couldn't get rid of the squeaks.
**The suspect, not hesitating. not stop-
ping to think, agreed shoes like that —
like his — are a nuisance. He said: *‘It
took weeks to get these to stop squeak-
ing. Had to be broken in with oiling.*”’
Bewildered by this entrapment, homi-
cide cops noted, with justifiable pride,
Glatman continued to deny knowledge of
the rape slaughters, even when con-
fronted with his early record in New
York State. But he listened carefully
when investigators assured him he would
get rough handling in the courts and it
would be smart to admit he was ‘‘dis-
turbed’’ and needed doctors to help him.
Ina 45-minute recitation on October 3,
Glatman ticked off all details of his rapes
and murders, dwelling on the most sordid

~ and perverse details. ‘Now take me to a:
.- sex therapist,’’ he demanded.

A few weeks later, convicted of first-
degree murder in three days by a Crimin-
al Court jury, Glatman, denounced the
cops who ‘‘tied him up in knots’’ to make
him confess with ‘‘false promises.’’

On August t2, while on San Quentin's
death row, Glatman | firushed off defense
lawyers trying to drtdnge appeals. In a
statement released to the L.A. press on
August 16, “sain wrote: *‘l want to

die. This is the way it must be."’

A few minutes after 8 a.m. on August
18, 1959, Glatman was put to death in the
gas chamber. Among his notes. in his
cell. prison officials found this:

**One of the sneakiest questions in the
1Q exam is ‘How tall is tallenough?’ As I
look back on how I got outwitted by the
cops I finally ask myself: ‘How dumb is
dumb enough?’”’ © *

~ ‘America’ S Most Wanted shy ota

(continued from page 17)

Boyce finished paying him the rest of his
expenses, plus an additional $200.

They parted, Raines said, and he never
saw or heard from Boyce until October of
that same year, when he called Raines
and asked for a small loan. Raines agreed
to the request and invited him to spend
the night at his home. Only hours after
Boyce had left, the federal agents
swooped dowa on Raines’ home and that
of a friend.

Although Raines had been in Lompoc
prison at the same time as Boyce he had
never met him there. Therefore, he was
unaware Boyce was an escaped prisoner
until agents told him so on the day of the
raid on his own home. The federal agents
had not been aware that Boyce had been
at the Raines residence when they raided
it during an investigation concerning the
ex-convict.

When he wus interviewed by federal
officers working on the escape of Boyce,
he was asked about the package he deli-
vered to Peru. He told them he never
knew what was in it, except Boyce had
referred to it as the “*KH-1I1. manu-
script."”

Authorities revealed that KH-I1 is a
CIA designation for the **Keyhole’’
satellite, a device capable of making
high-resolution observation. This was
the first that authorities had known that
Boyce might have had access to data
about this. system.

It was also the first indication that
Boyce may have provided additional sec-
rets to Soviet agents since his escape.
According to another Lompoc prisoner,
Boyce had asserted before his escape that

he hoped to finance his flight partly by:

selling classified documents that he had
hidden in the Arizona desert.

Raines had no idea where the fugitive
spy might be hiding out.. ,

While in Lompoc, a fellow inmate had
told Boyce if he ever escaped to head for
a remote area in northern Idaho, to a log
cabin on Katka Mountain, near Booners
Ferry. Gloria White, he had told Boyce,
had a string of cabins scattered over the

six to seven thousands acres of land she
owned. She was a very understanding
woman, and would let a person ‘cool _
off*’ from the heat of a manhunt in one of

~ her cabins.

Boyce found out that his inmate friend

had not just been **blowing in the wind”’
— it was exactly as he had told him. For
Boyce. who loved the outdoors, it was a
high country paradise.
’ The 40-year-old woman was five foot
two inches with brown hair and a right
upper tooth made of gold with a diamond
set in it. She was the mother of six chil-
dren. She was tough, and a person
usually realized it soon after making her
acquaintance. She was often seen car-
rying a shotgun.

She had been arrested in 1979 on bank
robbery conspiracy charges in Portland,
but the charges later were dismissed.

Boyce was soon encamped in a log
cabin in the rugged, mountainous coun-
try. Mrs. White and three brothers of
Mrs. White were to later give Boyce les-

sons in a new career he would soon be

embarking upon — robbing banks.

For about three months, Boyce left the
cabin and camped out four miles up a
mountain from the property of a shake
mill worker, whom he met the hard way.
He was taking supplies to his camp on the |
back of a pack mule when the animal
‘suddenly bolted and dragged Boyce off
the mountain and into the;barkyard of the
mill worker. . . :

The 27-year-old man helped Boyce
untangle himself from lines on the /
animal and the two formed a friendship, -
He never knew Boyce by any name but
*‘Jim,’” and he never asked Boyce any
personal questions.

**Where I'm from,”’ the mill worker
explained later, **you just kind of take ;
people for what they're worth. If you get

into somebody’s business, you'd better ~ . |

have a good reason for it.”’ .
Keeping a low profile, Boyce tried to
zene into the country. He told people. -

- (continued on next page)

ak)


After the bodies were removed,
Sheriff Bland ordered the search of
the desert expanded still further. He
also assigned other officers to canvass
all business establishments along the
highway for some 25 miles in each di-
rection, including cafes, filling stations,
motels, or stores.

This latter line of inquiry produced
what then looked like the first tangible
clue. In the little hamlet of Adelanto,
six miles from the murder scene, a
deputy found a grocer who had just
heard a radio bulletin describing the
slain couple. He said he was “almost
certain” they were the couple who
were in his store around 8:15 the morn-
ing before—that would be Labor Day
morning, September 7th. They bought
some six-packs of assorted soda pop.
The young woman paid for them. The
grocer remembered her vividly.

“She kept winking at me and making
funny motions,” he told the deputy.
“I didn’t know what to make of it,
but I didn’t think any more about it
till I heard about these killings. Now
I believe she may have been trying to
get over some message to me.”

The “tall, neat-looking feller’ with

the girl also seemed nervous, the old
grocer said. The other two men were
rough, unkempt types who never
opened their mouths. One was about
40, 5 feet 8, with bushy black hair.
The other was younger and about 5 feet
10. He had dark brown hair. The
grocer recalled that the group headed
north when they left, up Route 395.
They were driving a light blue-and-
white Nash Rambler station wagon,
about a 1955 model, with a luggage
rack on the roof.

Taken to the mortuary to view the
bodies, the grocer again said he was
“almost certain” it was the same cou-
ple. The hair, general build and cloth-
ing were about the same. It was un-
derstandable that he could not be
positive about the features.

If the grocer was correct, Sheriff
Bland theorized, it appeared the vic-
tims had been kidnaped and were
being threatened by their two roughly-
dressed captors. The motive was any-
body’s guess.

At the moment, the killers could
have no way of knowing of the lead
obtained from the grocer. To avoid
“spooking” them into sudden flight,

& ‘n sahatieadih,

Sheriff Bland ordered this informa-
tion withheld from publication, for at
least 24 hours. In the meantime, he
ordered a radio alert in the Mojave
Desert region for a swift check of all
motels, cafes, and gas stations. It was
a gamble that such a move might turn
up the blue-and-white Rambler sta-
tion wagon the killers were believed to
be driving.

- In the interim, the report from the
Hawthorne police on the address scrib-
bled on the bloodstained notepaper

was inconclusive. No one was at home’

at the address. Two couples were re-
ported to be living there, but little
was known of them by those’ ques-
tioned.

Fingerprinting of the corpses pro-
duced prints suitable for comparison
purposes, but not for identification
tracing. The initials “R.N.” had been
found inside the male victim’s class
ring. His loafers were found to bear
the imprint of a Pasadena shoe dealer
and a distinctive V-shaped metal heel
plate.

Sheriff Bland assigned deputies to
check out the Pasadena shoe store.
Others were delegated to work on the
class ring angle. The latter, because of
the letters “SM” on the ring, began by
conferring with high school authorities
in Santa Monica and San Marino.

In his eagerness to effect a swift so-
lution of the desert murders, Bland put
virtually his entire detective force to
work on the case. When 24 hours had
elapsed and the desert area check had
failed to turn up a trace of the Ram-
bler station wagon or its occupants, he
issued an all-points bulletin containing
all pertinent details of the murders
and what the investigation thus far
had developed. Included was a request
for special comparison of the victims’
descriptions with all missing persons
reports filed in the preceding five days.

Now Sheriff Bland called in press,
radio and television representatives
‘and briefed them fully on the case.
By nightfall of the day after the bodies
were found, the murders were head-
lined throughout Southern California
and featured on all radio and TV news-
casts.

The first response to this was, as
expected, a deluge of tips from both
cranks and well-intentioned citizens
who thought they had pertinent infor-
mation. Possibly one might prove to
be of value. In any event, each one
was carefully checked out, putting a
still further strain on the manpower in
the sheriff’s department.

The Pasadena shoe store was sure
the slain man’s loafers had been pur-
chased there within the past month,
but they had no record of the buyer.
The only records kept on shoe pur-
chasers, they said, were on those sold
to growing children.

A flurry of excitement swept the
sheriff's office briefly when it began to
look as if an identification had been
obtained on the slain girl. Two women

living near Hawthorne, reading about
the murders, reported their fears that
the murdered girl was their niece, who
had been staying with them.

She was 18, wore her hair in a pony-
tail and she was pregnant, they told
the sheriff. Her husband was unem-
ployed. He had two ne’er-do-well
brothers. When the two women re-
turned home Labor Day afternoon,
they said, they had found a note from
their niece saying she and her husband
were driving to Las Vegas with his
brothers to look for work. ~

The reason for their fears, the
women disclosed, was that the descrip-
tions of the two roughly-dressed com-
panions of the slain couple closely fitted
their niece’s brothers-in-law. They
gave the officers the names of the two
men.

On Wednesday afternoon Sheriff
Bland added these names to his all-
points bulletin, but soon after daylight,
he ordered them removed. Despite a
tentative identification of the slain gir]
by the two women, it was soon proved

that she was not their missing niece.

For one thing, the murder victim
was not pregnant. For another, she
was several years older than the miss-
ing niece. And the clincher came when
an oral chart supplied by the missing
girl’s dentist proved conclusively she
was not the murdered woman.

The first identification in the baffling
case finally came as the result of some
classic detective work by Sheriff
Bland’s deputies. The key to this was
the class ring.

The deputies had traced it to a
Minnesota firm which had marketed a
ring identical to it some ten years be-
fore. The manufacturer’s records
showed only two such rings were sold
in California in 1949. These went to
San Marino Prep School near Pasa-
dena. That was all the ring manufac-
turer could tell them, but it was
enough for the hardworking deputies.

They promptly descended on the
offices of the prep school, where records
showed that only one youth in the
graduating class of ’49 had the initials

Lawrence Garner, with his bride Sondra, told Sheriff Bland (r.) he was to have been best man at the w
Eb Re Pea paints, ‘ Rte hae : i ac E

“R.N.” His name was Richard Lee
Nowlen. He was the adopted son of
a wealthy, well-known Pasadena archi-
tect and artist, now retired. Unfortu-
nately, the architect and his wife were
traveling abroad and could not be lo-
cated at once.

The deputies then contacted Los
Angeles area police for assistance in
tracing acquaintances who might help
them reach the elder Nowlens. This
soon became of secondary importance
to the investigation, when the memories
of a couple of Los Angeles detectives
were jogged by mention of the name
Richard Lee Nowlen. Within minutes
they had pulled a file on Nowlen, con-
taining mug shot and prints.

Richard Nowlen was adopted by the
California family when he was five
years old, but though given advantages
and opportunities afforded to few
youths, he had chosen to walk outside
the law. An electrical engineer, and
now 28, he was currently wanted for
escaping from a Chino prison honor
camp. He was tall, handsome, with

edding of Dick and Pat

abides SOLO EE

FRTROUTT Pe "


ered

1
GARNER, Lawrence C,, white, asphyxiated Californai (San

BLOODY TRAIL OF
THE "LOLITA" LOVERS

(TD December, 1961)

Their crime spree, which brought
death to four persons, began in Belle-
ville, Illinois, and ended in Midland,
Texas, on September 2, 1961, when John
Edwin Myers, 33, an ex-convict from
Chicago, and 14-year-old Donna Marie
Stone were arrested for the murder of
Arthur Lee DeKraii, 33, hitchhiking
from Ottumwa, Iowa, to California,
whom they had picked up and slain
on September Ist. Their other three
victims, all slain near Belleville, were
George Ballard, 47, a machinist, and his
10-year-old daughter Carole, shot to
death on August 30th as they were fish-
ing in a lake, and Margaret Wernicker,
39, kidnaped from her home and shot to
death that same day.

Arrest in Texas ended murder spree of John Edwin Myers and Donna Marie Stone

ELI ES

on cases published by TD

Report of latest legal developments

In Rusk, county seat of Cherokee
County, Texas, on March 16, 1962, a
jury found Myers guilty of murdering
the Iowa hitchhiker, and sentenced him
to die. Donna Marie, too young to be
tried for murder in Texas, was returned
to Belleville to face trial on a first-
degree murder charge for the deaths of
George and Carole Ballard. She pleaded
not guilty to the charge.

On August 20, 1962, Donna Marie’s
attorneys told Circuit Judge Richard T.
Carter that their client, who admittedly
took part in the four killings, wished to
change her plea to a reduced charge of
voluntary manslaughter.

Judge Carter accepted the plea and
ordered Donna Marie Stone turned over
to the Illinois Youth Commission. After
undergoing a series of tests at the Illi-
nois State Penitentiary at Joliet, she
will be sent to the State Girls’ Training

Bernardino County) on 9-4-1962,

School at Geneva. She will remain there
until she is 21. At that time, the Illinois
Board of Pardons and Parole will have
authority to release her, or to order her
confined in the Women’s Reformatory at
Dwight for the remainder of her 14-
year term—the maximum penalty for
m laughter.

MEMBER OF THE WEDDING

(TD January, 1960)

In the State’s gas chamber in San
Quentin Prison, on September 4, 1962,
Lawrence Christopher Garner, 30, was
executed for the murder of Richard Lee
Knowlen, 28, of Los Angeles, an escaped
convict, and Knowlen’s fiancee, Patricia
Hurley Skeene, 28, a Los Angeles pa-
rolee on a narcotics charge. The pair
were on their way to Las Vegas to be
married. Their bodies were found on
September 7, 1959, in the Mojave Desert
near Victorville, San Bernardino Coun-
ty, California. Both had been shot to
death.

Garner and his wife Sandra, 24, who
were accompanying the pair, were ar-
rested in Mexico on September 17. Both
were convicted of the double slaying.
Sandra was sentenced to a life term at
the women’s prison at Corona, and Gar-
ner was sentenced to die.

As the execution day drew near,
Garner twice appealed to Marin County
Superior Court for permission to have a
final visit with his wife. The request
was denied, but on September ist they
were permitted to talk with each other
over the telephone for 15 minutes.

“T am deeply grateful,” Garner said.
“T love my wife very much.”

HE PROXY MURDER OF
OLGA DUNCAN

(TD April, 1959)

On August 8, 1962, three persons died

in the gas chamber in San Quentin

Prison. They were Mrs. Elizabeth Ann
Duncan, 58, Luis Moya, 23, and Augus-
tine Baldonado, 28, of Santa Barbara,
California. The three were convicted on
March 20, 1959, for the murder of Mrs.
Duncan’s pregnant daughter-in-law,
Olga Kupczyk Duncan, 30, an attractive
Canadian nurse, employed at St. Fran-
cis Hospital in Santa Barbara.
According to testimony given at the
trial, Mrs. Duncan had made every
effort to break up her son’s marriage,
even to the extent of obtaining a fraud-
ulent annulment of it. Then, Baldonado
and Moya testified, she hired them to
dispose of Olga: They were promised
$6,000 for the job, they said, but re-
ceived only a down payment of $250.
On November 18, 1958, on the pretext
that her husband had been injured,
Moya and Baldonado lured Olga Duncan
into a car, beat and strangled her, and
buried her, still alive, in a shallow grave
in Casitas Pass Canyon. Her body was
found on December 21st. Autopsy dis~
closed she had died of suffocation.

a
he
psy
me:
*
Ryd

~
.

a | D>

* double |length feature

The honeymoon was going to be financed by stickups, |
but the loving couple never quite reached the altar.
A construction crew found their bullet-riddled bodies

broiling in. the 100-degree heat of the desert sun

.
| FOR f -
; wi eG

BY ROBERT HUNTER

—_€ Sea ta fees Ae
J Bp Shire ae te ba
persis. SS => Ae ne ye Soe aN

Dep. Longetti discovered clue to identification in ring from finger of slain man

52

Construction crew found bodies of two victims on blacktop surface of new road > z | :

N EVENT OCCURRED on Friday, August 31,
A 1962, which made Lawrence Christopher Gar-
ner a happy man. The incident was momentous
in itself because Garner was under sentence of death.
His address, in fact was the Death House, San Quentin
Penitentiary, California. Generally speaking, the only
thing that makes a man in such a position happy is a
stay of execution, a commutation of sentence, or a
pardon, but this was something different.

The source of Garner’s joy was an unprecedented
telephone call which the State of California allowed
him to make to his wife, Sondra. For fifteen minutes,
with only a single guard present and standing out of
earshot, Garner was permitted to converse with his
wife.

Afterwards, still visibly affected by the experience,
he said, ‘‘She sounded like she was in the next room.
She is a very courageous girl. | think she suppressed
her emotions for my sake.

TRUE DETECTIVE MAGAZINE, MARCH, 1963.

“That's one of the traits in her that | love.’

Apart from the usual things which prompt a man
and woman to fall in love and marry, Garner and
Sondra had something most unusual in common. Both
had been convicted for the same crime of double mur-
der. Garner, however, had drawn a death sentence.
Sondra was given life, which she was serving at the
California Institution for Women at Corona. That was
where she received her husband's call.

If Sondra ever experienced what romantic writers
call ‘‘marital bliss’’ with her husband, it was extremely
short-lived. They were married in Guaymas, Mexico,
in 1959, and a scant two days later they were arrested
for murder. The latter development, in fact, left a
couple of red-faced officials in the Mexican town, a
judge and the chief of police. The judge had married
them; the chief was the official witness to the ceremony.

The events which followed the Garners' arrest in
Mexico were to leave a lasting impression on the loving

qeretudee. ‘oytym §°9 eousamey ‘yaNuyo

wae

wai
gtteo

) eTuso

‘OUTpPZeUEg ues


En route with two friends to Las Vegas
for their wedding, Patricia Skene and
Richard Nowlen met death in the desert

couple and, indirectly, they prompted
something of a furore considerably
later in California. A number of times
during the nearly three years he spent

in prison sweating out execution,
Garner told newsmen he felt a drastic
change was long overdue in the state’s
prison practices.

“The state should permit married
couples to have conjugal relations in
prison,” Garner insisted. ‘“They’ve
been doing that in Mexico for years. It
would make things better all around.”

Such statements stirred up substan-

tial controversy and provided fodder
for innumerable barroom arguments,
not to mention a spate of television
panel discussions on the egghead level.
The solons who enact the state’s laws,
however, were not impressed.

Garner finally compromised in his
last petition on the subject of a pos+
sible visit with his wife. He was then
willing to settle for a “non-conjugal”
visit.

When this petition was turned down,
he compromised once again. Failing all
else, he now pleaded, he would settle
for a telephone call to his wife, some
time before his scheduled execution
on September 4, 1962. California prison
authorities had met with such requests
before, and always they were rejected.
Little hope was held that this plea
would be granted. But, unexpectedly,
it was.

What Lawrence, better known as
“Chris,” discussed with Sondra was
not divulged. Garner said they dis-
cussed “personal things,” but that could
cover a wide range of topics. Since
they were alloted only fifteen minutes
to talk, it is unlikely that they wasted
any of it in discussing the double mur-
der, which had placed them in their
present predicament.

News of the murders first burst upon
the residents of Southern California
on September 8, 1959. That was Tues-
day, the day after Labor Day. In the
blistering 100-degree heat of the Mo-
jave Desert near the little town of
Adelanto, a road construction crew
engaged in re-routing portions of U.S.
Route 395 returned to work after the
long Labor Day holiday.

It was 7:30 in the-morning, but al-
ready shimmering heat waves were
rising off the uncompleted blacktop
surface of the new roadway. About
400 feet from the old road, the fore-
man of the job strode behind a parked
bulldozer and stopped short at the
sight of a young couple sprawled flat
on their backs in the new road.

“Look at that!” he exclaimed irrit-
ably. “Right smack in the middle of
the road. Drunk, probably. I'll bet
they’ve been there all night.”

He stalked toward the prostrate pair
and shouted, “All right, you two—on
your feet! If you want to sleep, find a
bed some place. You can’t do it here.”
. There was no response. The foreman
opened his mouth to speak again, but
by now he was close enough to get a
good look at the couple, Whatever he
intended to say was forgotten. Instead,
he gasped, “Good God! They’re dead!”

A look at their faces was enough to
convince him of that. They had begun
to turn black with decomposition. They
also were smeared with coagulated
blood.

Save for shoes missing from the
woman's feet, both bodies were fully
dressed. She wore a gray sleeveless
dress and nylon hose, The man was
clad in gray summer-weight slacks,
a white sport shirt and brown loafers.
The trousers were caked with dried
blood.

Members of the road crew rushed to
the spot at the foreman’s cry. He gave
orders to stay away from the bodies,
then set out in a pickup truck to
notify police. His call was received
about fifteen minutes later at the Vic-
torville office of the California High-
way Patrol, and from there the news
was relayed to the San Bernardino
County sheriff’s substation in the same
city, about nine miles from the death
scene.

Highway patrolmen and_ sheriff's
deputies who reached the scene first
had made a number of preliminary ob-
servations by the time the main task
force of ranking officers arrived from
their respective headquarters. Heading
Sheriff Frank Bland’s_ investigators
were Inspector Hal Oxnevad and Lieu-
tenant Barton A. Keene, both expe-
rienced homicide sleuths. Forensic
chemist Anthony Longetti had come
from the crime laboratory, and Deputy
John C. Maclvor had been summoned
from the Identification Bureau. A. J.
McCann, deputy coroner, had already
begun his initial examination of the
bodies as the inspector issued orders
to cordon off the area. Deputy MacIvor
had swiftly completed the task of pho-
tographing the bodies.

One of the first things the coroner’s
deputy did was to wrap the fingers of
the slain pair in soaked cotton; he had
noted the fingertips were already
blackened and shriveling in the sun’s
heat, and this would help to retain
their fingerprint characteristics.

The intense desert heat had already
caused advanced decomposition. The
features of the victims—surface indi-
cations left no doubt in anyone’s mind
that they had been murdered—were
already bloated. Both the man and
woman appeared to be in their
twenties.

Inspector Oxnevad noted that the
woman was about five feet, three inches #
tall, with a slim, shapely figure that
may have weighed about 110 pounds at
most. Her hair, dark brown in color,
was worn in a pony-tail. The man-was
a husky six-footer with curly, reddish-
brown hair.

Lieutenant Keene quickly ascer-
tained that the road crew had worked
at the scene all day Friday and that
the bodies were not there when the
crew left.

The inspector studied the profusion
of dried blood on the blacktop and
concluded the couple had been slain
at that spot, eliminating the possibility
they had been killed elsewhere and
transported there.

Deputies reported they could find
no sign of strange vehicles parked or
abandoned anywhere in the vicinity.
Deputy Maclvor told Inspector Oxne-
vad he had found a few footprints in
the tarry road-surfacing material, but
“no signs of a struggle.” The coroner
was still working, but they didn’t need
him to tell them both victims had been
shot in the head. It looked as though
the man also had been shot somewhere
below the belt.

A chrome-plated lighter and a half-
smoked cigarette butt lay between the
two bodies. Near the man’s head a
deputy found a pair of horn-rimmed
glasses, the left lens shattered. There
was no sign of the woman’s purse,
but a few coins—totaling less than 50
cents—were scattered nearby.

Deputies searching the area later
reported finding a number of spent
cartridge casings of both .32 and .45
caliber. More than a dozen of these
were found less than 35 feet from the
bodies. J

The most interesting find, however,
was a row of soda pop bottles standing
in a neat row in the sand alongside the
road. One had been shattered. Behind
them, little furrows in the sand told
the story.

“Target practice,” Inspector Oxnevad
said as he studied the ground. “The
killer—or killers—practised on these
empty bottles before they shot the
couple.”

He ordered the search of the area
renewed. By the time this search was
finished, the deputies had collected still
more cartridge casings, a couple of six-
packs containing soda bottles similar
to those lined up in the sand, more
cigarette butts, and a loaded clip for a
-45 automatic.

The coroner was concluding his pre-
liminary examination. Inspector Ox-
nevad approached him. ‘“What’s the
word, Doctor?” he asked.

The deputy coroner shook his head.
“I can only guess at the time of death,”
he said, “till we do the autopsies.”
This was understandable, due to the
torrid, 100-plus daytime temperatures
in the region, which can plummet to
near-freezing at night. And in this
instance, it was determined, the tarry
road-surfacing material on which the
bodies lay may have reached a tem-
perature as high as 160 degrees.

The coroner estimated that the
couple had been dead from 24 to 48
hours, but it might have been longer.
He confirmed Inspector Oxnevad’s

theory the couple was slain where they °

were found. The man’s face showed
signs of a bludgeoning or pistol-whip-
ping. He had been shot once in the
groin and once in the top of the head.
The girl had been shot only once, dead
center in her forehead.

The identity of the slain pair was a
mystery. The man’s pockets contained
no wallet or identification, only 47
cents in change and a letter made in-
decipherable by bloodstains, except for
one word, “love.” There was a class
ring on his left hand bearing the school
monogram “SM” and the year “1949.”
An eagle in flight was tattooed on his
right forearm.

Searchers had been unable to turn
up the woman’s purse or shoes. She
wore no jewelry. Under her outer
clothing she wore a white bra, a half-
slip and blue nylon panties. Her un-
der garments were not disarrayed.
There was no evidence of a sex assault.

The one distinctive feature found
on her body was a barely legible tattoo

on her left thigh, halfway between hip
and knee. It read: “Skihi,” or per-
haps “Skehe.”

One final clue was found when the
man’s body was turned over. Under
it was a crumpled sheet of paper torn
from a small notebook.
pencil-scribbled address on East 120th
Street in Hawthorne, which is a sub-
urb south of Los Angeles.

Lieutenant Keene ordered the ad-
dress radioed to headquarters, for re-
lay to Hawthorne police, requesting it
be checked out.

Sheriff Bland and Chief Deputy Cor-
oner Edward P. Doyle arrived at this

It bore a-

juncture and Inspector Oxnevad filled
them in on the case up to the moment.

“Whoever did this knew his busi-
ness,” the inspector began. “No
struggle, no fuss, just a clean-cut exe-
cution. The number of shells and the
two different calibers suggest two
killers. As for the target practice on
the pop bottles, it’s possible they were
trying out their guns—or they could
have been terrorizing the victims be-
fore they killed them. ;

“It’s also possible the couple was
lured out here to shoot at the bottles,
and then the guns were turned on
them.”

Each item found at the scene was brought to Dep. Longetti in the laboratory

TTA II RN NE TTR EET


GIRETH, Leslie B.,

wh, asphyxl Calif. (A

T2

up Connors or that we found the rings,”
Sullivan said. “We'll keep quiet ‘about
it and post a watch on the picnic grove.
If Connors isn’t involved the real robber
will come back there for his loot.”

The report from the technical labora-
tory also was in Connors’ favor. The
two samples of cloth did not match.

BREAK IN THE case came with an un-

expected dramatic climax. A watch
was kept over the darkened picnic area.
Detective Whitton was on duty when a
shadowy figure cautiously climbed over the
fence and entered the grounds. Whitton
froze into immobility as the man moved
toward where the rings had been buried.

As the figure knelt, Whitton sprang into
action. There was a brief tussle and the
detective subdued the other man. He
brought him handcuffed to the precinct
house.

Lieutenant McDermott stared at the pris-
oner. He was Ben Rader, the recent bride-
groom! For hours Rader denied any: con-
nection with the murder of Patrolman
Meyer.

“T heard that the rings were buried
there and I came out to grab them,” he said.

“How did you hear about it?” the seep
tical officers inquired.

“Grapevine,” was his terse reply.

Rader refused to elaborate on his state-
ment,

“Then you know who pulled the job,” the
officers persisted.

.“T ain’t saying.”

“McDermott paced’ his office. “Was
Rader in with Connors? Both claimed to
be innocent of the murder and advanced
similar stories—they were trying to hijack
the proceeds of the tomb robbery.

The lieutenant decided to suddenly con-
front the two suspects with each other.
Neither knew of the other's arrest. Per-

REAL DETECTIVE

haps the surprise would jolt a reaction out
of them.

Connors and Rader stared curiously at
each other but without a flicker of recog-
nition. They either were excellent actors
or else one of them was telling the truth.
Sut which one?

McDermott dispatched detectives to
search Rader’s apartment. They hurried
back a short time later clutching a soiled
shirt.

The lieutenant spread the shirt out on
a table. Near the shoulder was a large
rent. McDermott picked up the piece that
the dying officer had torn from the killer.
It fitted in the tear.

Rader watched in fascination as the
jagged edges matched perfectly. Finally he
shrugged. “LT guess you got me,” he con-
fessed.

“Who was with you, Connors?”

“Nah. Never saw him before in my life.
It was Ed Reilly.”

He shunted blame for the killing on
Reilly. He said that he had met, Reilly
at City Hall Park and they decided to
stage a stickup to recoup gambling losses.
They took a subway train looking for
likely prey.

“One of the sisters pulled off her gloves
on the train and we spotted the sparklers,”
Rader said. “We followed them to the
cemetery where we stuck them up.”

Ile said that he and Reilly had) their
guns hidden in their sleeves and Meyer
had made only a cursory search after they
lulled his suspicions by readily consenting
to go to the stationhouse for questioning.

“Tis confession is full of holes,” Sullivan
pointed out. “He’s trying to shift the
blame on Reilly but we know he held the
nickel-plated gun. Rader fired those shots
into Meyer’s back and not Reilly.

An intensive search was launched for
Reilly. His girl friend was shadowed in

LAST MEAL “OUTSIDE”

Leslie Gireth, slayer of his co-ed sweetheart, Dorenn Hammer,
chats with an officer and a reporter as he cats a man-sized break-
fast aboard the ferryboat taking him to San Quentin Prison in
California where he is scheduled to die in the gas ehamber.

Kal

Fd PF F-2.

the hope that she would lead police to him
Days passed without any trace of the miss-
ing man.

N SEPTEMBER 24 Detectives Whitton,

Carter and Isaac Jacobs were assigned
to trail the pert blonde. She arose late
and took a subway downtown. She emerged
near Police Headquarters and the watching
detectives followed her to the Tombs
Prison where she visited her jailed husband.
She returned home.

Later in the afternoon her high heels
clicked in rapid tattoo on the pavement
as she went to a rooming house on East
32nd Street. The officers consulted. Was
this Reilly’s hideout?

They cautiously ascended the stairs and
suddenly broke into the room, ‘The girl
screamed. She was sitting alone in the
room reading a paper.

“Where’s Reilly?” the officers demanded.

“T don’t know,” she said, her bosom heav-
ing. “I’m waiting for a street car,” she
cracked, when asked what she was doing in
the room,

The landlady’s description of the roomer
fitted Reilly. “This is his wife,” she said
pointing to the gangster’s moll, “He told
me he isa tramlnae salesman. Tle doesn't
come here often,”

The officers knew that they had uncov-
ered Reilly's love nest.

“He's probably heading here today or she
wouldn't have come here,” Jacobs reasoned.

While Carter remained with the girl to
prevent her from tipping off Reilly, the
others posted themselves on the street.

A half hour later Detective Jacobs ob-
served a nattily-dressed man walking up
the street. He was wearing thick-rimmed
glasses. The approaching figure stopped
once before a store window.

The detective went into action as he no-
ticed the man lower his spectacles to
examine the window display.

“He can't see out of them. Those glasses
are a disguise,” Jacobs explained.

Reilly readily admitted his identity.
“iin tired of dodging in and out of alleys
since it happened.”

Reilly said Rader did the killing. He
stated that Rader was in the back seat of
Meyer's car. He slipped the gun from its
hiding place, jammed it against: Meyer's
back and pulled the trigger three times.

Rader was indicted for first degree mur-
der. Reilly agreed to turn State’s evidence
against his former pal.

On October 5, a jury convicted Rader
of second degree murder. County Judge
Frank Adel termed the verdict a “gross
miscarriage” of justice as he lashed at the
jurors for not bringing in a death verdict.

Four days later Rader and Reilly both
pleaded guilty to the tomb robbery.

Judge Adel wiped the smirk from Rader’s
face when he pronounced sentence. He or-
dered Rader to serve from 20 years to life
for the murder, “At the conclusion of that
sentence I order you to serve an additional
25 years to life for robbery, and if you
should finish serving that sentence, you are
to serve an additional 5 to 10 years for pos-
session of a gun.

The court had imposed a minimum sen-
tence of 50 years.

Judge Adel also ended any hope Reilly
had of beating the rap. Reilly fainted when
he heard the court send him to Sing Sing
to serve from 45 years to life on the rob-
bery charge and an additional 5 to 10 years
for carrying a gun—the same total as
Rader, a minimum of 50 years.

Lieutenant McDermott today is a Deupty

Chief Inspector.

Editor's note: The name of Jimmy Con-
nors as used in this story is fictitious to pro-
tect the identity of an innocent person.

14

tioning us to ;
luctant. “I
Cliff," he sa:
part of town
T laughed 2°
to take care «
“It’s not
bulls will be
these joints a
hot.”
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warming up.
Eddie laug
curb, “That
hell with the
The girls °
us to a big,
place, She
and brought
glasses. Th
began cane
fine for aw
flew open a
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girls, He
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were arguin
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While the
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wus.

at roomie

CRIME DETECTIVE

LOVE SLAYING VICTIM

murder of beautiful Dorena Hammer.
center, and Assistant Dist. Att'y Dayton are shown with him.

Shown at left is Leslie Gireth, held in the California “love nest’’

Sheriff H. P. Gleason,

only his right hand, shifting gears and
steering with it. Oscar wasn’t in
sight any more. We pulled away from
the curb, rolled down the slope slow-
ly through traffic that was beginning
to move again... Nobody tried to stop
us. Tommy growled: f

“T hope they don’t get Jim until I
can — that. dough off him!” :

I kept saying to myself: “Jim
wouldn’t have done it. Jim wouldn't
have killed aman. Jim...”

* * *

WE drove south. Tommy didn’t
tell me where we were going. I
didn’t ask. I couldn’t change it now.
Murder. I was part of it. There was
nothing I could do, No escape. Just
. ... murder trailing us, the dead
cashier’s ghost, and all the cops in the
world.

Tommy didn’t drive fast.
aged his hand with a handkerchief.
The bullet from somebody’s gun in
the bank had ripped a hole through
the fleshy part just below the thumb.
He’d held back most of the bleeding
by doubling his fingers over the
wound.

The police and everybody else
would be looking for a bandit with
a bandaged left hand. He kept talk-
ing about the money. He didn’t care
what happened to Jim except to get
that cash. I told him:

“You don’t need that money,
Tommy. You’ve still got that ninety
thousand from Pennsylvania.”

“Shut your mouth!” he snarled.
“Keep shut, or I’ll clout you. I earned
that Atlanta dough and I’m going to
get it!”

He’d earned it—and a death sen-
tence. I would have tried to get

I band-:

away from him then if I could. Even
though he’d have shot me to stop me,
I guess. But there wasn’t a chance.
He never got out of the car, never
let me get out.

There wasn’t any word along the
way about Jim. None that we got,
anyhow. He’d raced off and disap-

eared. Or he was dead, in some

ack road ditch, wrecked or shot, and
they hadn’t found him yet. He was
supposed to have switched cars twice
within forty miles of Atlanta, too
close for us to find out if he’d made it.
Even Tommy wasn’t crazy enough yet
to go that near the switch spots.
ommy’s hand got worse and I
washed it with whisky while he kept
driving. He wouldn’t stop except for
gas and oil. Not even to eat. His
wrist swelled and his forearm got
puffy. Infection from the greasé on
the bullet. We drove over two hun-
dred miles, six hours oing as slow
as we were, and I kept washing
whisky onto the wound..

“I can take it!” he said. “That
lousy cashier’s dead, anyway. I should
have killed ’em all and I wouldn't
have got hit. Ill catch up with Jim
and that dough, though.”

In a grave, I thought. All three
of us. I knew now that Tommy had
used that sub-machine gun without
warning. Jim wouldn’t have done it.
I took a heavy drink of whisky.
Tommy took some and had to spit it
it out. He was sick.

“You’ve got to have a doctor,
Tommy.” We were already in Flor-
ida, down below Lake City. It was
almost midnight.

“Sure, Dorothy,” he said. “Pretty
soon. You can nurse me. You'll go
for that part swell.”

met

Lelbstiw / rh v2. ‘

“How much farther?” I asked.

“Tampa. About three hours. Stick
with me. You got to!”

“Tl stick, Tommy.”

“You’d better, Dorothy. Il kill
you, the first wrong idea you get.”

He kept driving, talking. Every-
body could be dead, he told me. But
he’d get that money. He’d dig up
Jim’s corpse to get it. He always got
the dough. Even when he was a kid
in Kansas, taking violin lessons.

“A typewriter’s better than violin,”
he said. “They named ’em for me—
Tommy guns. They pay off quick and
plenty! You stick to me and type-
writers, Jim’s a heel. He learned
lip-reading in stir where he couldn’t
talk, and thinks he’s bright because
he caught me that way framing with
a crook cop on my own once. He
thinks I’m too young and dumb. But
he won’t be around long, sister!”

I remembered the river. But I
couldn’t tell Tommy. He was talk-
ing deliriously half the time now.
And he kept that Caddy on the road,
rolling. When we had to stop to load
up with gas the last time, he wanted
to get out and stick up the filling sta-
tion. i

“Just to show him,” he said. “The
louse reminds me of Jim.”

He couldn’t find his revolver. He’d
changed it from his shoulder clip
to his coat pocket when his left arm
had begun to swell. I had it, but he
didn’t know that. It had slipped out
of his pocket while he was umbling
for gas money quite a ways back.
I wasn’t sure how to. use it. I had
it tucked down behind the seat
cushion. .

We went on. There wasn’t much
traffic for a long while. Then the
glow against the sky in front of us,
the reflection of Tampa.

We drove along a bay, and stars
made the water bright. There were
small houses buried in the trees.
Tommy switched off the car lights,
turned into a dirt lane. There wasn’t
any houses here, not even a shack,
only a one-car tin garage that was
dirty silver in the starlight, with the
bay beyond through the trees.

He shut off the ignition, let the car
roll to a stop in a sand trail. He sat
there waiting, listening.

“Something’s sour,” he said. He
didn’t say what it was. “Get out,
Dorothy.” He had me take the suit-
cases out of the car trunk. He got an-
other gun from one of them. I took
his gun from behind the cushion
when he wasn’t looking and stuck
it down against my stomach inside my
girdle. I don’t know why, except I
was scared of him, of everything.

I followed Tommy, twisting my
heels in fresh automobile tracks that
went ahead of us in the sand to the
garage. The tracks turned, retraced
their route back past the Cadillac.

A set of footprints went around the
garage, down through the trees to the
shoreline. The prints came back
again from where a small dory. was
pene up on the narrow beach. The

lurred outline of a cabin cruiser sat
without lights, motionless, out on
the water. Tommy kept that gun in
his hand all the time.

Walking back to the Caddy he wob-
bled a little. He made me carry the
bags down into the dory. The suit-
case Jim had poe for me. Another
that was Jim’s. One that belonged to

Tommy. The fourth was the suit-
case that held the ninety thousand
He drove the car into the

dollars.


NO APPEAL
GIBSON, Moses, black, hanged at San Quentin (Orange County) on 9-2-1920.

"Log Angeles, July 23, 1920-Mose Gibson, a negro sentenced to hang for the mrder of Roy
Trapp, California rancher, has confessed to seven mrdersy, according to word today from
Sheriff Jackson at Santa Anna. Gibson has been under investigation the last few days in
connection with the murder of Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Erhardt, an agkd couple, in their home
here on June 6, ‘The sheriff said he also confessed to the mrders of J, R. Reavis of
Baton Rouge, Laey and a woman at Orange City, Florida in 1919; a watchman at a sugar mill
in Gramercy, La., in 1910; a storekeeper and wagoner in Louisiana in 1910, The negro said
he killed most of his victim with a hammer and said he killed the Erhardts after serving a
jail sentenceat Douglas, Arizey to obtain money, Gibson said he committed burglary in
Omaha, Nebraska, in June, 1913; was arrested and escaped the same night and committed ano-
ther burglary with handcuffs on in order to get money pay for having them filed off,
Sheriff Jackson has just returned from taking Gibson to the penitentiary at San Quentin,
Admission that he committed 'thousands' of burglaries, obtaining sums form a few cents to
a hundred dollars were made by Gibson, according to the Sheriff, Gibson was arrested at
Topoca, Arizona, for the mrder of Trapp and an assault on a woman, He was returned here
and pleaded guilty and sentenced to hang on Septmmber 2." PENSACOLA JOURNAL, Pensacola,
Flae, July 2h, 192% (1/3.) The following fram same source under different date-line:
"Tampa, Fla., Jply 23, 1920-The sheriff of Volusia County in which Orange City Junction is
located, stated over the telephone tonight that Mrs, Matty Clark was mysterious murdered
at her home last November, and the same night homeof another woman there was robbed. No
trace was ever found of the mrderer, Mrs, Clark was a middle-aged widow, Mose Gibson,
negro, was known there, the sheriff said,"


LOS
ANGELES,
CALIF....

ee at tated

Aca Rt tees AA AO

“V'd loop the rope
around their neck

and ankles. :
Then I'd keep pulling
until

they quit struggling!”

Shirley Ann, only one of victims who
suspect didn’t meet in model agency.

ANOTHER SEX OFFENDER
REPEATS!

When California police finally caught
and questioned this confessed rapist
and kiiler of three women, they were
not the least bit surprised to learn
that he already had served time in
New York and Colorado for crimes
against women, When, in Heaven's
name, are the various states going to
adopt more stringent laws against this
type of offender, insuring their con-
finement until they are cured beyond
any question of doubt? Until such
time, innocent women and children
will continue to be the victims of their
brutal, unbridled lusts. Homes and
lives will continue to be shattered in
the name of leniency to the type of
person least deserving of all—the sex
criminal!

|
|

Ruth Rita: “The one I really liked!”
Judy Ann (r.), Number One victim.

,

NY MAN with a.camera and an
urge to snap himself some
private “art” shots of prime
and beautiful young females in

‘ what artists call the nude couldn’t do

better than to travel to Los Angeles.

For there are, perhaps, more luscious
lovelies denizened in the gaudy envir-
ons of Movieland than anywhere else in
the world.

You see them parading the boule-
vards in skin-tight toreador pants and
sheer leotards hoping, most of them, to
catch the eye of a movie scout.

However, only a paltry few of these
charming cuties ever crash the gates of
Hollywood and—since it’s important to
eat—they go their various ways.

We can be certain about where at
least three of these beauties recently
went. They went to their deaths—sav-
agely raped at gunpoint and murdered

‘in calm blood.

A fourth, raven-haired Lorraine Vi-
gil, escaped the same fate only because
of her desperate courage. She fought
off — and captured —a ‘confessed mass
rapist-strangler who stalked’ his prey
among the legion of beauteous pin-up
models available for amateur and pro-
fessional photographers alike in the
film capital.

It should be understood that, as a
result of this bumper crop of photo-
genic beauties, scores—if not hundreds—
of model agencies do a thriving business

f\

1s

rasa ee ee

in the Los Angeles area. Many of these

are, of course, legitimate concerns of
impeccable reputation.

Sometimes however, you will see ad-
vertisements in Los Angeles newspapers
such as this:

ARTISTIC MODEL
Will pose for professional or amateur
photogs between picture engagements
... All figure or calendar type poses
OK. Call...
Some of these come-ons offer more
than models. Theré was “Miss Lovely,”

POLICE DETECTIVE. Junr, 1963.

es @cIte be TRUE Ci E,

4G

for example. You didn’t even have to
own your own camera. Her ad said
generously: “I have all equipment .. .”
Perhaps it isn’t necessary to put down
the obvious in black and white. Any-
how, if you want to take “art” pictures
at any one of these studios, you can
snap away till the cows come home. If,
however, you crave other services which
an attractive model might be in a posi-
tion to supply—well, only too often it
boils down to this: “You pays your
money and you takes your choice.”
There is another facet of this busi-
ness which has led many a disillusioned,

15

RS Nahe Amare?
+

Hair and skull found in desert;
sole remains of pretty Ruth Rita,

aspiring young movie actress to her
doom. We refer to such bait as the
following:

PHOTO FIGURE MODELS
Wanted: Models for art photogra-
phers. Experience unnecessary. Looks
only requirement...

All a girl has to do is to register with
such an agency—and then wait for a
phone call.

“What a set-up!’ Harvey Glatman
must have said to himself, when he ar-
rived in Los Angeles.

A bat-eared, scrawny individual of
inconsequent stature, Glatman was an
alumnus of New York’s Sing Sing pris-
on, and of the: Colorado State Peni-
tentiary.

Glatman, who describes himself as
a radio-tv repairman, is 30 years old.

16

He did time in Sing Sing after being
convicted of a-series of robberies in
Albany, New York, in 1946, which
earned him the sobriquet, “Phantom
Bandit.” There is a succinct and pro-
phetic notation on his prison record—
“Girl Trouble.”

It seems that Glatman always went
after women. He stalked them after
they got off buses at lonely spots and
robbed them at the point of a gun. He
was still going after women when he
was nailed again, this time in Denver
for rape and kidnaping. He was packed
off to the state safekeep for a relatively
brief two years.

Among his acquaintances in Los An-
geles, Glatman set himself up as some-
what of a photographer—amateur, of
course—specializing in “art” studies.

And he had a camera of his own to
prove it. He also had a .32. caliber

automatic and a five-foot piece of rope.
How expertly Glatman was able to use
his camera is of no importance now.

But he used his automatic and rope
with deadly efficiency—up until the fate-
ful day when he met his nemesis in
the shapely person of Lorraine Vigil.

Lorraine, who is strictly a model,
fought for her life and won, What
might have been the fate of two other
models whom Glatman sought to date
for photographic work is something cal-
culated to clrll the blood.

There was Joanne Arena, a 20-year-
old French model, who said Glatman

had phoned her twice in the two weeks °

preceding his final undoing. He tried
to persuade her to pose for him, as
she had done once before.

“T told him I couldn’t make it,” said
Joanne, who is also strictly a model.
“But I remembered that my friend,

sweat dca

Lorraine Vigil, had been trying to get

into modeling.

“So I called Lorraine and told her
this was her opportunity, and she ac-

cepted the job... .

“Later, I got. to thinking about it—
how strange he acted—and I tried to
call Lorraine back to warn her to be

very careful.”

But Lorraine never got the call. And

Police Sgt. P. R. Pierce with the
suspect's gun and strangle rope.

Suspect (r.) led the Los Angeles
police to these bones, said they
were the remains of Shirley Ann.

that night she went out with Glatman.

Betty Carver Bohanno 19, who
lived with model Judy Ann Dull and
Lynn Lykel, told the other story. Glat-
man came to her apartment, Betty said,
and asked for Lynn, who was not at
home.

“He started talking to me about mo-
deling,” Betty said, ‘tand then he spot-
ted a picture of Judy on a table.

“Judy was trying to get a job to
support her baby son—she was separat-
ed from her husband. And eventually
she made an appointment with Glat-
man to pose for two hours—strictly
posing, you understand. She was to get
$40 for it.

“Judy left home to keep her appoint-
ment with Glatman—and she never came
back...”

Betty Bohannon and Joanne Arena

; might never have come back either.

had they gone off to pose for Harvey

Glatman.
But Lorraine Vigil came back—after
a shattering experience within the focus

- of death’s own lens.

Badly bruised about her face and
body, a welt from a searing gunshot
running down her side, Lorraine sob-
bed out the story of how she fought for
her life and at last brought to bay the

“He was a thin little man,” she said, $
“and didn’t say much. I thought we
were driving to his studio. But when
we got onto the Santa Ana Freeway he
began driving south out of the city at
a tremendous rate of speed.

“I asked him where we were going.
But he wouldn’t answer my questions.
He wouldn’t even look at me. Just kept
looking straight ahead at the road.

man who would have ravished and
slaughtered her—even as he had three
other unsuspecting beautiful models.

The scene of Lorraine’s harrowing
ordeal was hard by the Santa Ana
Freeway in Orange County, not far
from Los Angeles .. . “It was to be my
first professional modeling job,” said
Lorraine, “I had answered a newspaper
ad from a studio offering work to girls
who wanted to pose for photos.”

Lorraine said she received a call from
the agency on Wednesday night, Octo-
ber 29th. She was told that a photog-
rapher-client would pick her up in the
private home where she rented a room,
and would take her to his studio.

The client, of course, was jug-eared
Glatman. To Lorraine he appeared a
shy, harmless character. And with no
misgivings, she drove off in his car
with him.

“After awhile, we reached a lonely
section and he suddenly turned off into
a tiny, side road. I asked him what was
the matter. And he told me he was
stopping because he thought he had a
flat tire.”

Glatman drove down this deserted
road about 100 feet from the highway.
Lorraine continued, and pulled to a
halt in a “dry, desert-like” spot.

Lorraine realized she was in for it
then. But she had no conception of
just what she was up against, or how
high the stakes would be.

“He jerked out a gun.” she said,
“and pointed it at me. Instinctively I
grabbed for it, trying to protect myself.

“‘T’m an ex-con,’ he shouted. ‘I'll kill
you if you don’t do what I tell you. And
don’t think I give a damn, either, if I
get the gas chamber for it.’”

(continued on page 74)
17


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Barhorst answered, “Give me that
gun or you'll get hurt, you crazy girl.”
He then attempted to take the rifle
from her.

“You fool!” Bunny snarled, and
pulled the trigger. She took the change
carrier from his dead body, and fled
to the Plymouth.

They kept the stolen automobile in
the backyard of the Owens’ home on
East Ferry street, Newark, and hid the
murder weapon and the samples of
office supplies belonging to Mr.
McCord in the coal bin.

On February 7th, 1938, Ethel Sohl
and Genevieve Owens went on trial for
their lives in Common Pleas Court be-
fore Judge Daniel Brennan. Prosecutor
William A. Wachenfeld represented the
State of New Jersey, and Gerald M. F.
McLaughlin, Joseph Solimine, Regi-
nald C. S. Parnel and Edward E.
Parker were the attorneys for the de-
fense. By corroboration, evidence and
other means, the defense blamed the
sordid life the girls had lived for their
conduct. The murder of the bus driver,
they told the jury, was perpetrated
while Mrs. Ethel Sohl and Genevieve
Owens were under the influence of
marijuana, a potent drug that divests
one’s thinking mechanism from the
normal.

Their lawyers did not fight to free
the - pretty criminals, but contested
every inch of the State’s evidence in
order to prove that the reefer ‘addicts
were guilty only of murder in the
second degree.

The jury brought in such a verdict,
of second-degree murder, and Judge
Brennan sentenced Ethel Sohl and
Genevieve Owens to spend the rest of
their natural days in the State Women’s
Reformatory at Clinton.

At one-thirty the night of June 16th,
1948, Ethel Sohl, who had been sepa-
rated from Genevieve, made a daring
escape through a second-floor bedroom
window by fastening sheets together
and securing one end to a radiator.
Two days later, having been on a wild
spree and drinking rampage, she was
trapped in a tavern on highway 28,
between Somerville and Easton and
brought back to the hoosegow where
she and, of course, Genevieve Owens,
are still serving time for the murder
of William Barhorst.

THE END

Rape. Strangler‘s
3 Beautiful’ Victims

(continued from page 17)

But Lorraine clung to the muzzle of
the automatic. She said that as they |
struggled on the front seat of the car,

Glatman reached down with one hand

‘hold of the gun as we wrestled on the

and picked up a length of rope. :

Lorraine didn’t know it then. But
this was the same piece of rope, he was
to confess later, with which he had al-
ready garroted three other models—
after raping them at gunpoint. oa

The first of these was 19-year-old
Judy Ann Dull, who was never seen —
alive again after going off on a model-
ing date with Harvey Glatman on Au-
gust Ist, 1957.

Glatman’s second victim, he said,
was Mrs. Shirley Ann Bridgeford, 24, ~
who met the same fate last March 8th. —
The third was Ruth Rita Mercado, —
also 24, raped and slain on July 23rd. -

Often on the verge of hysteria, Lor-
raine continued the story of her night-
mare ordeal. She said that, as Glatman
got hold of the rope, he warned her:
“Do as I tell you, and you won't get
yourself hurt.”

“But I knew he would. kill me—I
knew it. And I wouldn’t quit fighting, I
wouldn’t let go of the gun.

“He got hold of one of my hands
and forced it up in back of me. Some-
how—I don’t really know how—I man-
aged to get the door open with that
hand.

“We both fell out of the car. I kept

fee

* SWE Wekcate ie
Bi Sage ny eee oat
Raq tt KE: i OS oa Fi,

ground ... We rolled over and over,
fighting on the side road, until finally
we were all the way up on the shoulder
of the Freeway... . 2
“I was screaming all the time. Cars _
—millions of cars—passed on the Free-
way. But nobody would stop. .. . “
“Once the gun went off. The bullet
went through my skirt and I felt a
terrible burn on my side ... I bit his %
wrist and he yelled. . . .” oi
Now, Lorraine said, she broke away
from Glatman and scrambled to her:
feet as her assailant got to his. And
now, Lorraine had the gun! __
“T turned the gun around and pointed

it at him,” she said. “If I had known es
how to shoot it, I believe I would have —
killed him. He just stood there and
watched me... And, after awhile, the
police came.”

Finally one of the “millions” of
Passing motorists had stopped. He
started to Lorraine’s assistance just as “
a highway patrolman happened along: ~~
on a motorcycle—and Glatman was
collared.

After two days of questioning, Har- ig
vey Glatman admitted freely the rape
and murder of the three beautiful #
models. And then with eager coopera:
tion, if not with boastfulness, the ~
mousy, flap-eared triple slayer led de- Bas
tectives to two of the graves of his ae
unfortunate victims. a

He point out the shallow graves,
four miles apart, in a wild desert gulley —
45 miles east of San Diego. é

The first was that of Shirley Ann
“Oe

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76

Bridgeford, 24, whose bones were found
lying scattered in a rubble of smooth-
washed stones. Shirley Ann, a divorcee,
was his second victim, Glatman said.

Unlike the others, Glatman didn’t
make his rendezvous with Shirley Ann
through a model agency. Instead, he
bought her name and telephone number
from a Lonely Hearts club for $10.

Glatman drove the young woman to
the desert fastness, he admitted, raped
her in-the car and then, at the point of
his automatic, forced her to get out
of the car. pe
’ Beneath the dying sun and in the
shadow of a giant cactus, he trussed
her hand and foot like a calf ready
for branding—and choked her to death
with a noose around her neck.

“I pulled and pulled until she went
limp,” Glatman said. “Then I pulled
some more...”

Glatman left the ravished body of
Shirley Ann to the mercies of wild
animals and the weather. Her skull
was found 50 yards away from the pel-
vic bones. The slender bone of an arm
was found another 50 yards distant.

There could be no doubt about the
identification of these remains, Glat-
man said. Shirley Ann was wearing a
one-piece green dress .. .

It wasn’t until November 4th that
Glatman led police to a shallow grave
in the desert near Indio, 100 miles east
of Los Angeles in Riverside County.
Here he had buried the body of his
first victim, 19-year-old Judy Ann Dull.

Ruth Rita Mercado was Glatman’s
third victim. As he led investigators to
the slain model’s grave, Glatman seem-
ed genuinely affected for the first time.

“I didn’t want to kill her,” he said.
“She was the one I really liked.”

Glatman said he got Ruth’s name
from a modeling advertisement, made
a date, and went to her apartment.
After a pretense of making pictures, he
said, he overpowered her and raped
her. He spent the entire night in the
apartment, Glatman said, and repeated-
ly ravished the girl.

“Finally,” Glatman told investigators,
“IT told her we were going out to a
desert place where we wouldn’t be
bothered and I was going to make some
more pictures. . ;

“When I got there, I took a lot more
pictures—and tried to figure out how to
keep from killing her. But I couldn’t
come up with any answer, so I got out
the rope and did it the same way I did
it to the others... .

“With each one, I did it the same
way.... ate

“I would make them kneel down.
With everyone it was the same. With
the gun on them I would tie this five-
foot piece of rope around their ankles.
Then I would loop it around their neck.

Then I would stand there and keep
pulling until they quit struggling.”
Still “cooperative,” Glatman readily

submitted to a lie detector test and,

authorities said, acquitted himself with
flying colors.

As Glatman settled down in the Los
Angeles jail, after demolishing a field-
hand’s meal of frankfurters, corn on
the cob, apple pie and ice cream, he
received newsmen. He appeared re-
laxed, his. chief concern being, appar-
ently, that the bald spot on the top of
his head might show up in any photo-
graphs. :

“T really didn’t like to kill,” said
Glatman. “Really, I didn’t have the
urge. It was just that I got past that
point of no return. I- was. afraid those
girls would identify me.”

Then Glatman was asked the inevi-
table question. He had a loaded pistol
—why did he use a rope to dispatch
his victims?

“Ever since I was a child,” replied
Harvey Glatman, “I have been fascin-
ated by rope. It seems as if I always
had a piece of rope in my hands... .”

THE END

‘The “Bitch”

(continued from page 12)

murdered bridgegroom-to-be had been
found in a clump of poison ivy.

Seizing the young man; they began
to question him. A little while later he
broke down and confessed he had been
involved in the murder plot that had
taken Bill Kappen’s life.

Mrs. Porter had hired him and his
brother, John, to kill her brother Bill.
She had five insurance policies on Kap-
pen and figured that if he’ got married
she would not he his beneficiary and
collect the money. Thus, because a man

scratched himself at a wedding party,,

a murder was solved and justice took
its course. Marie Porter and Ralph
Giancola were executed and John Gian-
cola was given a 60-year prison sentence
for his part in the slaying of the bride-
groom.

EDITOR'S NOTE: To protect a person
innocently involved in this case, the

name Grace Towles is fictitious as used —

here.
THE END

‘\.. . The Best.Fiend
A Man Ever Had!!’

(continued from page*10)

he’s over in Henderson visiting some

army friend,” she said. In answer to fu


GLATMAN, Harvey Murray

This former convict, a sex psychopathic, posed as a photographer to entice beautiful girls to horrible deaths. - i . Slayer took

* It was a stead
duct the two you:

4 “lonely hearts’ d
) A - () hy *.. made him photo;
°. P ; ile sexual urgin;
; Monstrous depravity “ nitty
: helpless, quiverir
made the arch killer i

and their mouths

pose as a photographer € It was sheer n
7 » __ hated to kill thes
5 so he could lure | Deccaicichs was
pretty, camera-struck e women.” ’
° ° . . 4 However, it w:
girls into his toils his’ cartuitin-place
; IEND by Nelson Stein

of rape and murder! » kill so fiendishly.
Bs “I used the sa
three,” he said, al
the gun ...In
tied their ankles t
their necks, and
Thirty-one-year
California author
death struggle wi
busy Santa Ana {
Miss Vigil into h
tographer.

DETECTIVE CASES & _- DETECTIVE CASES

/

ETECTIVE CASES, March, 1959

lee’!

=

James Sands.

Sergeant Pierce holds twine, gun used in slayings.

‘Close-up ‘of attractive victim Shirley Bridgeport.

. DETECTIVE CASES... PRC : 21


‘

Glatman stands with detectives at scene of murder.

horrible deaths.

depravity
arch killer
photographer
dlure «
era-struck
his toils
hd murder!

DETECTIVE CASES

°
Deed St ; * , i
% ; ij P 7 va

Slayer took this shot, then killed Mrs. Bridgeford. et

~ oe

* Ht was a steady pattern. It was lust that made him ab-
duct the two young photographic models and an attractive
“lonely hearts” divorcee. It was monstrous depravity that
made him photograph them in various lewd forms. It was
vile sexual urgings that made him rape ther as they lay
helpless, quivering in-fear, their hands tied behind them
and their mouths gagged.

It was sheer necessity then that he kill them. “I truly

. hated to kill these ‘girls. But it“just had to be. My fear of

being caught was almost as great as my. compulsion toward
women.” ’ Ni A

However, it was the darkest of forces working beneath
his common-place exterior that made this strange creature
kill so fiendishly. \

“I used the same five foot length of sash cord for all
three,” he said, almost gloatingly. “I kept it in my car with
the gun .. . I made them lie’ on their stomachs. ‘Then I

tied their: ankles tog€ther, looped the end ofthe corti about -

their necks, and pulled until they were. dead.”
Thirty-one-year-old Harvey M. Glatman was arrested by
California authorities last, October 28° following a life-and-
death struggle with Lorraine Vigil, 27, in his car near the
busy Santa Ana freeway. As previously, Glatman had lured
Miss Vigil into his hands by Posing as a. professional pho-

tographer. t Bar nee:
DETECTIVE. CASES taba eee 29
7 ‘ i

My yh SOR YS: ex
Tum Ban

> Sy


casi

oer

Following his arrest, Glatman, a‘ home television set
serviceyman and ex-con, admitted the murders his strange
passions had chalked up. ey re

‘He killed 19-year-old Hollywood model Judy Dull ,in
August, 1957. Mrs. Shirley Ann Bridgeford, a 24-year-old
Sun Valley divorcee met her ghoulish end in March; 1958)
as did model Ruth Rita Mercado, also 24, in July. cy

Escorting authorities to the various desert sites where the
minute. remains of his victims could be found, ‘Glatman ;
showed no remorse for his crimes. “ © \

“Ever since I was a child, I have been fascinated by
rope,” he said. “It seems as if I always had a piece of rope
in my hands.” ° ; ,

Even when brought to trial, Glatman was gesturing
vaguely, as if fashioning a noose. Glatman’s attorney vainly
tried to enter a plea of guilty by reason of insanity, but the
boyish-faced slayer refused to permit it. He pleaded guilty.

~“Some crimes are so revolting there is only one. penalty,”

announced Superior Judge John A. Hewicker on Decem-

ber 18, 1958. “The torment and the suffering those girls —
underwent must have been horrible. I will impose the death _
penalty as the only- proper judgment.” eee
Glatman made the opinions about the sentence unani-
mous. oes
“It was about what I wanted,” he said, ok

Yon

_ Killer Glatman (handcuffed) talks with sheriff's deputies (I. to r.) Dan Rice, John Baker, James Sands.

- Slayer’s photo shows trussed Judy before she died.

= ;


m that the be-
n had given a
s probably not a

He could have
ractive girls and
of Rose Arden
mailbox down-
re had picked the
out of thin air.
ssed without any
Judy Ann Dull,
n were unable to
sst positive lead.
atives and closest
iced she had been
‘ered by the man

Johnny Glynn.
sility of voluntary

Model Judy Ann Dull (/.) enjoyed posing, tied up, for what she thought

was a. story illustration, When Judy

disappearance couldn’t . be ignored.
Judy was an impetuous, ambitious,
unconventional young woman and she
was involved in court trouble.

Sergeant Ostroff learned she had
asked a lawyer friend only a few days
before, “What would happen if I don’t
show up at that hearing?” Offsetting
this, Lois said Judy was determined
to get her baby back, and had vowed
she would give up modeling and take
some more prosaic job, if necessary,
to prove herself a fit mother. Also, she
had left her wardrobe behind, taking
only a few modeling clothes.

The newspapers headlined the dis-
appearance of the glamor model, and
the sheriff was flooded with tips and

disappeared, bulletins described

her as 19, 5 feet 4, 110 pounds. When she was found, she was murdered

leads that had to be run down. All
came to nothing. Sergeants Ostroff and
White investigated half a dozen re-

ports by frightened young Hollywood .

models, of men who had hired them
for posing jobs and forced sexual at-
tentions on them under threat of
knife or gun. These girls had been
afraid to report their experiences till
the Judy Ann Dull case was head-
lined. Several nervous potential sus-
pects were quizzed.

But there remained absolutely no
clue to Johnny Glynn No one had
ever heard of any free-lance profes-
sional photographer by that name, or
fitting his description. Surely. if Glynn
had been legitimate, he would have

come forward by this time to assert
his innocence. A number of men named
Glynn or Glenn were checked out.

Lois Lee, in retrospect, now said
there was something suspicious, not
quite right, about the self-styled pho-
tographer. He had an unkempt, shifty,
creepy look. Lois and Rose had the
lock- changed on the apartment door,
since Judy had taken her key with
her.

The investigation marked time till
the Glendale court hearing on August
9th. The courtroom was packed with
detectives, reporters and news pho-
tographers. But Judy Dull didn’t show
up, nor did she send any word. The
judge awarded her husband permanent
custody of their child.

“Something terrible has happened to
Judy,” the shaken young husband de-
clared after the hearing. “She loved
little Suzie, and she’d never in the
world have stayed away from this
hearing if she could have made it. I’m
positive she’s lying dead somewhere.”

Some of the official investigators
shared his opinion. Others still were
inclined to believe that Judy had
simply run off, either with Johnny
Glynn or with some other well-heeled
secret boy friend. Possibility of am-
nesia was discounted, since the teen-
age nude model was in perfect health.

Sergeants White and Ostroff inter-
viewed scores of men and women, They
canvassed every photo studio in Holly-
wood, West Hollywood and Beverly
Hills. They compared notes with
Hollywood Division police on several
unsolved sex murders, combed through
the modus operandi files. They showed
Lois Lee many mug photos of known
sex criminals, men recently paroled
from prison. They checked .out and
dismissed the theory that Judy had
been pregnant and was the victim of
an abortionist. Noting marked simi-
larities between the Judy Dull case and
the classic disappearance mystery of
Jean Spangler, beautiful 26-year-old
Hollywood screen and TV actress who
vanished without a trace in October,
1949, they searched the 8-year-old files
for any possible link.

Weeks went by, and turned into
months, without the slightest clue to
Judy Dull’s fate. Sergeant White died
and his successors were busy with other
new cases. The all-points bulletin re-
mained in the live file, and the de-
scription of Judy Ann Dull was
checked against that of any unidenti-
fied woman’s body found in any of the
Western states.

On December 29th, 1957, a ranch
worker was walking through a.desolate
stretch of wasteland beside U. S.
Highway 60 and the Southern Pacific
tracks, between Indio and Thousand
Palms in the desert country some 130
miles east of Los Angeles, when his
barking dog led him to a human skull
lying in an abandoned cotton field.
Scanning the ground, he found the
rest of the moldering skelton buried in
a shallow sandy grave 120 feet away.
He summoned the Riverside County
sheriff’s officers, who found shreds
of brown dress material, underclothing

and a white gold ring with a single 55


_ PINUP

- HE SCENE was a courtroom in
San Diego County, California.

The date, December 17, 1958.

* ie. The defendant, a slim, stoop-
shouldered, jug-eared man of 31, who

_ stood, awaiting sentence before Supe-

rior Judge John A. Hewicker, did not
possess that peculiar aura which
arouses in his behalf an outcry against
the death penalty. The crimes for
which he stood convicted were so
blood-chilling and revolting that even
he himself had expressed a desire to die.
Impassively, he listened as Judge
Hewicker said, “I know a lot of people
| in high places do not believe in capital
| punishment. But there are some crimes
i , so revolting that there is only one
proper penalty, and that is death. May
God have mercy on your soul.”

The story, which was not unfolded in
court until nearly a year and a half
later, began on the sultry afternoon of

August 1, 1957, when 19-year-old Judy
52 Ann Van Horn Dull, a_ beautiful

Eee MAL

ease of the

HOMICIDAL |

' PHOTOGRAPHER

The beautiful models thought they were posing
for glamour photos that might lead to movie stardom. i>
They didn’t know the cameraman was named Death.

by EDWARD S. SULLIVAN

wht

—

ev

golden-blonde pinup model, walked
out of her attractive West Hollywood
apartment, accompanied by a photog-
rapher, to keep a modeling engagement.
She had several other engagements for
that afternoon, but she failed to keep
any of them—and she never was seen
alive again.

That evening, Judy Ann’s room-
mate, Lois Lee, an 18-year-old blonde
model, and Judy’s estranged husband
called the Los Angeles sheriff’s West
Hollywood station to report Judy miss-
ing. She had been gone since mid-
afternoon, they said, had failed to keep
several appointments, and they were
extremely worried about her.

Since the attractive blonde had been
absent only a few hours, the filmtown
deputies made & routine check of hos-
pitals, and radio cars cruising the Sun-
set Strip were alerted to be on the
watch for the petite blonde teenager.
But when Judy was still missing
early the next morning, her frantic

husband, and her roommates and
friends insisted something must have
happened to her, and the sheriff’s de-
tectives came into the case.

As reported to Sergeant David E. Os-

troff, acting West Hollywood detective
commander, Judy Ann Van Horn had
been separated since June from her
husband and had a divorce action. on
file. Judy had come to Hollywood to
pursue her modeling career, and
shared a swank apartment with Lois
Lee and a third blonde model named
Rose Arden, a recent arrival from
Florida. All three girls made their
living posing for art photographers.
Curvaceous, smiling Judy was espec-
ially in demand for nude and scantily-
clad pinup poses.

On Tuesday evening, July 30th,
Judy and Rose were out on dates and
Lois was sitting at home chatting with
a friend, when a slim, serious-looking
young man with horn-rimmed glasses
came to the door asking for Rose. He

» a. ‘
2 Did ) SAAS

Ruth Rit:

introduce
free-lanc:
had been
model fo:
Told that
stranger a
of her prc
him in. S
folio and
“Now
work wit!
he saw th
“She's ju:
When ca:
Lois ga
number.
to Judy, :
by some
Early 7
Johnny
Judy. H
said, and
at 2 o'c)
no studi
bring his


54

street near the swank apartment house.

While the contractor checked several
Sunset‘ Strip cafes that Judy fre-
quented, Lois called Judy’s husband
at work and he hurried right out. After
futile calls to Judy’s parents, friends
and photographer employers, they re-
ported her disappearance to the sheriff.
They insisted. that Judy was a level-
headed, responsible young woman, de-
voted to her career, and would never
of her own accord break an engage-
ment without even bothering to call.
Judy’s car, an old Chevrolet, still stood
in the apartment garage.

Young girls frequently are reported
missing in Hollywood, but they usually
turn up safely before long. However,
this particular case had an ominous
complexion. So, after further inves-
tigation, including talking with Judy’s
parents in Glendale and checking out
the Pico machine shop, Sergeant David
Ostroff of the sheriff's office consulted
with Sergeant Richard C. White of
the -downtown headquarters missing
persons detail, and in midmorning the
sheriff’s office issued an all-points bul-
letin, listing Judy Ann Van Horn Dull
as a.missing person and possible kid-
nap victim. Pictures of her were sup-
plied to all sheriffs and police stations.

The bulletin described her as 19
years old, 5 feet 4, 110 pounds, with
natural blonde hair, blue eyes, golden
tan complexion and a small mole un-
der her left breast. When last seen
she was wearing a cocoa-brown sheath
dress and low black shoes. She never
had been fingerprinted.

The man who called himself Johnny
Glynn was described as about 29 years
old, 5 feet 9, 150 pounds, with dark
brown hair, complexion on the olive
side, and prominent ears. He. wore
horn-rimmed glasses and a rather
rumpled dark blue or black business
suit. Lois had seen no automobile,
but assumed he drove one. He was
a total stranger to both Judy and Lois,
and Rose had called a number of pho-
tographers but could locate no one
who knew Johnny Glynn or had given
her name to any man of his descrip-
tion.

The sheriff’s investigators quickly
eliminated Judy’s estranged husband
and her contractor friend from any
suspicion. The husband still carried
a torch for his beautiful wife and had
been hoping for a_ reconciliation.
Though they were engaged in a court
squabble over custody of their 14-
month-old daughter, Suzie, the young
couple remained on friendly terms.
They had split up principally over his
objections to Judy’s modeling career.
He wanted her to stay home and de-
vote herself to the baby.

After filing her divorce suit in June,
Judy was awarded temporary custody
of little Suzie. One night, in her ab-
sence, her husband came and took the
baby to the home of one of his rela-
tives. He filed a petition for perman-
ent custody, claiming Judy was neg~-
lecting the child and was an unfit
mother. A hearing was set in Glendale
superior court the following Friday,
August 9th.

Judy’s husband had been at home

till he went to his night job, and the

young contractor had been in his office.

till 7 p.m. on Thursday. Neither of them
could offer any clue. Both feared that
Judy must have been kidnaped by a
rapist and was either’ held prisoner
somewhere, or had been slain.

With “Johnny Glynn” as their only
lead, Sergeants Ostroff and White, with
other detectives of the sheriff's force,
spent that day and night and the next
day checking photographers and model
agencies in the Hollywood area,
especially those who specialized in
nude pinups. They talked with several
dozen of Judy Ann’s friends, fellow
models and employers. But not a
single clue developed. The negative

‘

—-o pre-e enprnerrereeanmnangen renee

results convinced them that the be-
spectacled young man had ‘given a
phony name and was probably not a
photographer at all. He could have
spotted the three attractive girls and
obtained the name of Rose Arden
from the apartment mailbox down-
stairs. Apparently he had pickéd the
Pico phone number out of thin air.

The week end passed without any
word from or about Judy Ann Dull,
and the Sheriff's men were unable to
develop the slightest positive lead.
Most of Judy’s relatives and closest
friends were convinced she had been
kidnaped and murdered by the man
who called himself Johnny Glynn.
However, the possibility of voluntary

Model Judas
was aslo
her as 19.

disappear:
Judy wa:
unconvent
was invol
Sergear
asked a !
before, ‘‘\'
show up
this, Loi:
to get he
she woul:
some mo:
to prove }:
had left |.
only a fe
The ne\
appearanc:
the sherifi

es SOeSEeS & ES

mates and
must have
neriff’s de-

avid E, Os-
od detective
in Horn had
» from her
» action on
follywood to
career, and
nt with Lois
n,odel named
rrival from
made their
notographers.

y was espec= —

and scantily-

July 30th, “ham

on dates and
chatting with

-rious-looking ©. |
mmed glasses
for Rose. He.

Ruth Rita Mercado was alive when she posed for this photo.

© ‘introduced himself as Johnny Glynn, a

free-lance photographer, and said Rose
had been recommended to him as a
model for a special job he had in mind.
Told that Rose was not at home, the
stranger asked if he might look at some
of her professional photos. Lois invited
him in. She showed him Rose’s port-
folio and her own and Judy’s as well.

“Now there’s a girl I’d like to
work with!” Johnny exclaimed when
he saw the glamor shots of Judy Ann.
“She’s just the type I have in mind.
When can I contact her?”

Lois gave him their unlisted phone
number. Later she mentioned his visit
to Judy, saying that he had been sent
by someone who knew Rose.

Early Thursday morning, August Ist,
Johnny Glynn phoned and talked with
Judy. He had a rush assignment, he
said, and wanted her to pose for him
at 2 o’clock that afternoon. He had
no studio at the moment, and would
bring his equipment over to the apart-

ment. The blonde agreed to fit the
appointment into her busy schedule.

Johnny showed up a little after 2 p.m.
Lois was at home with Judy. The
young man explained he had been able
to get the use of a friend’s studio. The
job would take a couple of hours, he
said, and he agreed to pay Judy her
usual $20 an hour. At his suggestion,
she packed her flimsy pinup garb into
her modeling case. Judy had other
modeling dates scheduled for later that
afternoon and evening and, at her re~
quest, Johnny Glynn wrote down 34
phone number where she could be
reached, in case anyone should call for
her. It was 2:15 p.m. when they left
the apartment, Johnny politely carrying
Judy’s case for her.

Lois, at home alone the rest of the
day, was kept busy answering calls
for Judy. Judy’s husband stopped in
on his way to work, Judy, he said, had
promised to make a date with him to
discuss their pending child custody

She didn’t realize the pose was only a rehearsal for her murder

case. Several photographers phoned,
looking for Judy and, later in the
day, a couple of them dropped in to
complain that Judy had failed to show
up for her appointments. Lois could
only give them the phone number
Johnny Glynn had left.

At 9 p.m. a well-to-do young con-
tractor, a friend of Judy’s called. Judy
had broken a dinner date with him, he
said, after he had gone to some trou-
ble to make an appointment with a
lawyer friend for her. He said he had
tried the number Lois gave him, but
found it was a machine shop in Pico,
over on the other side of Los Angeles,
and no Johnny Glynn was known
there.

Judy’s contractor friend and her
roommate were now seriously alarmed.
There had been a number of recent
attacks on lone girls and women in the
Hollywood area. Just a few nights be-
fore, Judy had remarked that a strange

man had followed her on the dark 53


58

detectives, began a tedious canvass of
the 30-odd Lonely Hearts clubs and
similar date bureaus, of varying pres-
tige and reputation, in the Los Angeles
area. They collected scores of photo-
graphs of male members who might
fit the description given and showed
them to Shirley’s family, with negative
results. Spurred by the murder head-
lines, city council members moved for
an investigation of the date agencies,
with a view of putting them under
jurisdiction of the police commission.
Shirley’s mother clung to the frail
hope that Shirley might have met with
an accident and wandered off some-
where, in a daze. But after more
than a week of thorough, plodding
work, Sergeants Kealy and Ruble and
their commander, Lieutenant Ernest
T. Johnston, were convinced the bru-
nette had met with foul play at the
hands of a rapist. They did not be-
lieve Shirley would ever be foun
alive. ;
Further talks with the missing di-
vorcee’s family, the date club opera-
tor and the Hollywood secretary tended
to clear up the divergence in descrip-

Police couldn't tie unsolved murder of Jean Spangler to homicidal photographer ,

oA

tions. Police artist Hector Garcia pa-
tiently listened to the word-pictures
and drew a series of sketches, till a
single facial likeness emerged. It
appeared that Shirley’s family had
been mistaken about the man’s height
and build—that he was shorter and
slimmer, as the club operator and his
other date described him. He might
even have worn a false mustache when
he called for Shirley. Obviously he
could put his glasses on or off. The
jug-ears tallied in each case, and the
detectives were finally satisfied that
only one man was involved. They is-
sued new and more detailed bulletins.

In the ensuing weeks Sergeants
Ruble and Kealy pored through the
Los Angeles modus operandi files and
checked with the State crime bureau
at Sacramento, in search of criminals
known to prey on trusting women
through Lonely Hearts advertisements.
They ran.down and eliminated half a
dozen suspects. They compared notes
with the downtown homicide and
bunco division commanders, with the
sheriff’s office and police of other juris-
dictions.

At this time there was nothing to
connect the suspected abductor and
killer of Shirley Bridgeford with the
young photographer with whom Judy
Dull had vanished, though this pos-
sibility was considered. Both men were
of the same medium height and slender
build, both had prominent ears and
wore glasses, but “Glynn” was de-
scribed as darker in complexion than
“Williams” and having darker hair,
and their MO in picking up their vic-
tims was entirely different. Further,
sex criminals commonly choose victims
of similar description, and Shirley was
a brunette, while Judy was a golden
blonde, five years younger.

The MO similarly ruled out any link
with other unsolved Los Angeles girl
murders of the past year or two. Those
victims had been left where they were
slain, in their apartments, while the
suspected slayer of Shirley Ann
Bridgeford had lured the girl from
home and her body still was not found.

Late in July the landlord of a small
apartment hotel on West Pico Boule-
vard in the Wilshire district of Los
Angeles wrote to the police to report
the disappearance of a young girl ten-
ant of the hotel. She was Ruth Rita
Mercado, a 24-year-old dark-haired
beauty of Latin extraction, a former
strip dancer who now, under the name
of Angela Rojas, modeled principally
in the nude for photographers. The
landlord also had written to Ruth’s
mother in Plattsburg, New York, and
the police chief of that city asked: Los
Angeles authorities to investigate.

Lieutenant Marvin Jones, day watch
commander of Wilshire Division de-
tectives, dispatched his missing persons
men, Sergeants Paul A. Light and Eu-
gene Danforth, to interview the Wil-
shire landlord. They learned the young
brunette had apparently been missing
since Wednesday night, July 23rd.
About 9:30 that night the landlord
passed her door and heard Ruth talk-
ing to her collie pup. There was a “Do
Not Disturb” sign on the door. That
was the last that was heard or seen of
her around the apartment.

In the next few days, the landlord

.and his wife did not see Ruth around,

and noted the mail piling up in her
box. They respected her privacy and
waited four days before entering the
detached apartment.

When they finally went in with their
vasskey. after repeated knockings went
unanswered, they found Ruth’s two
parakeets and her beloved collie pup,
who was shut in the bathroom, near
death from lack of food and water.
There was no indication that the bru-
nette model had been home for days,
but her clothing. jewelry, luggage and
vrized pinup pictures, her stock in
trade, were all there. After caring for
the dog and the birds, the landlord
waited a couple of days more before
notifying the police.

There had been two strangulation
murders of young women in the Wil-
shire district within a:few weeks and
Lieutenant Erwin W. Smith, detective
commander, joined Lieutenant Jones in
taking a most serious view of the
model’s disappearance. “The tipoff is

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ig girl ten-
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strangulation
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The tipoff is

\

her leaving her pets to starve,” Ser-
geant Light reported. “The landlord
says she took care of them as though
they were babies. She’d never have
gone away and left them like that, if
she could help it.”

A further ominous note was injected
when Wilshire station records revealed
that back in April, 1958, when she was
living on South Kenmore Avenue,
Ruth Mercado had complained that
someone was annoying her by dialing
her phone number at all hours, and
then leaving the receiver off the hook
so as to tie up her line. A few weeks
later she reported finding an obscene
note under her door. Police made an
investigation ai the time, but devel-
oped nothing. They believed the an-
noyances were the work of some crank
who objected to having a young model
as a neighbor.

The detectives brought a box full of
Ruth’s letters, business records and
other personal papers down to the sta-
tion for examination. Documents re-
vealed she came originally from
Plattsburg, New York, had been a
member of WAF, and had lived in
Florida before coming to California in
the middle of 1957.

After a turn at strip-tease dancing
and working for various Hollywood
photo studios for a while, she went into
business for herself as a free-lance
model, specializing in nude poses. She
obtained her clientele through news-
paper ads. She even kept a couple of
cameras and a stock of film on hand
for aspiring photographers who had no
equipment of their own.

~ Shirley Ann Bridgeford was victim of a rapist-murderer

Lieutenant Smith contacted the
Plattsburgh chief for full data on the
slim young brunette’s background and
connections there. He asked similar in-
formation from Florida authorities. An
all-points bulletin was broadcast to po-
lice and sheriffs throughout the West.
Sergeant Light’s homicide partner,
Sergeant E. V. Jackson, and Sergeant
Malvin Erbsen were assigned to join
in the quiet investigation.

The missing girl was described as 5
feet 1, 110 pounds, with dark brown
hair and brown eyes, medium com-
plexion, small moles on her left cheek
and left chin. In this case there was no
description of any man with whom she
might have left her apartment, but her
letters and address books provided
scores of leads.

The detectives talked to many of
Ruth Mercado’s friends, both men and
women, in the taverns and cafes
around Pico and Crenshaw Boulevards,
and elsewhere in Los Angeles and
Hollywood. Most of her male clients
knew her as Angela Rojas, the name
she used as a model.

Ruth never had been married, as far
as was known. Homicide Detectives
questioned and checked out her men
friends. Ruth’s latest heart interest was
reported to be a Las Vegas piano play-
er, but he was in Bermuda and had
been there for some weeks, since be-
fore the brunette vanished. _

The police talked to a psychologist
whom Ruth had consulted for her ner-
vousness. He described her as rather
flighty, but he discounted the possibil-
ity of amnesia and said he did not be-

lieve, the model had gone away
voluntarily and left her precious pets.

Another angle investigated was the
telephone annoyance and the obscene
note Ruth had reported from her for-
mer apartment the previous spring. It
developed that her neighbors had re-
ceived similar unsigned notes villifying
the dark-haired model. The detectives
satisfied themselves, however, that this .
harassment had been the doing of an
eccentric neighbor, who had had no
further contact with Ruth since she
moved away.

Lieutenant Jones and Sergeants
Jackson, Light and Erbsen talked to
some 60 or 70 friends, clients and ac-
quaintances of the vanished model, and
investigated many of them as possible
suspects, They followed scores of devi-
ous tips. But, just as in the previous
missing women cases, the weeks went
by without any definite break. The
Wilshire detectives were convinced
that Ruth Mercado, alias Angela Ro-
jas, was a murder victim.

Checking dead body reports and files
of other cases elsewhere in the area,
Lieutenant Jones and his men noted
the similarity to the case of Judy Ann
Dull who, like Ruth Mercado, had
moved in circles that could prove haz-
ardous for a beautiful young girl.
They consulted with the sheriff’s de-
tectives and looked over the file on
Judy. The girls had worked for several
of the same photographers. These were
duly checked, but no definite link could
be established. But with three baffling
disappearances of young women in the
Los Angeles area within a year, the

Ruth Meresio posed for nude photographs, died violently

56

pearl, lying among the bones which
had been ravaged by the elements and
small animals.

Technicians pronounced the skeleton
that of a blonde woman between 30
and 35 years old, and estimated it had
been lying in the desert grave from six
months to a year or more. It was too
deteriorated to determine the cause of
death. The lab men succeeded in roll-
ing seven fragmentary prints from the
shriveled fingertips and sent them
to Washington, but the FBI could not
locate them in its files. The skeleton,
obviously that of a murder victim, was

checked against missing woman reports
from throughout the West. Its di-
mensions and hair color fitted those of
Judy Ann Dull, but the estimate of the
dead woman’s age and the time she had
been lying there, also the distance from
Hollywood, seemed to rule out the

missing pinup model. Also Judy’s
husband and roommates weren’t sure
whether or not she had owned such a
pearl ring. The ravaged bones re-
mained unidentified, and were finally
buried at county expense as those
of Jane Doe.

Early in March, 1958, a new dis-

Reporter Sullivan (c.) was briefed by
(l. to r.) Lt. Jones, Sets. Erben and
Jackson and Sgt. Light on gun, rope
recovered after the bodies were found

appearance case hit the headlines. The ;

subject was Shirley Ann Loy Bridge-
ford, an attractive 24-year-old bru-
nette divorcee, mother of two small
‘sons. Her mother, with whom the di-
vorcee and her children lived in a
pleasant home on Tuxford Street in -
suburban Sun Valley, reported to. Los -
Angeles police that Shirley Ann had
gone out on a blind date with a strange
man on Saturday night, March 8, 1958,
and had not returned.

The distraught mother told the full
story to’ Detective Sergeants R. Pat
Kealy and Richard T. Ruble of the
San Fernando Valley homicide detail, .
which doubles as missing persons bu-
reau in the populous suburban area
northwest of Hollywood.

She disclosed that her daughter had
dated her Saturday night escort
through a Lonely Hearts club. Di-
vorced three years before, Shirley Ann
had been engaged to a man for more
than a year and planned to marry him,
but they split up and he married an-
other girl. Shirley, a vivacious young
woman who liked parties and .danc-

ing, had not had a single date since -

then and was feeling lonesome and
moody. Staying home all the time, tak-
ing care of her little boys, aged 5 and
3, and sharing the household chores,
she had little or no opportunity to
meet eligible young men, her mother
said. :

One of her girl friends suggested,
more or less as a joke, that she ought
to join a Lonely Hearts club. Shirley

took the idea seriously, and the week

before had enrolled in a Friendship
Club advertised in the newspapers.
“She said she was doing it for a lark,”
her mother told the detectives, “but
she was half-serious. She said to
me, ‘Wouldn't it be funny if I should
meet some nice man that way and
he’d court me and marry me?’”
Shirley Ann’s first—and last—date
arranged by the club was with a
man who gave his name as George
Williams. “She was excited and happy
about going out with him Saturday
night,” her mother recalled. “He came
for her about 7:45. They said they
were going to a Western dance over
on San Fernando Road, but I can’t
find any of Shirley’s friends who saw
them there. She hasn’t come home.
I haven’t heard a word from her. It’s
almost 24 hours now, and Shirley
would never, never stay away from
home like this without even calling me.
Naturally she didn’t take any luggage.

She only had a few cents in her pocket. -

She asked me for some change to
buy a pack of cigarettes.”

Shirley’s mother and grandmother,
and her brother and 16-year-old sis-
ter all had seen and spoken briefly to
George Williams when Shirley brought

cot

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him into
were wa’
him. Th:
25 to 35 5
about 17(
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in Pasade
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Sergea
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8, 1958,

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ives, “but
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{1 and happy
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but I can’t
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and Shirley
- away from
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any luggage.
n her pocket.
> change to
grandmother,
-year-old sis-
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irley brought

‘a gold chain with a pendant set with

him into the living room where they
were waching TV, and introduced
him. They described him as about
25 to 35 years old, close to 6 feet tall,
about 170 pounds, with light brown
hair, blue eyes and a thick but ap-
parently newly-grown mustache. He
had large, protruding ears, the family
recalled, and he wore glasses with light
plastic rims.

“Naturally we looked him over,”
the missing girl’s mother said. “He
didn’t seem very well dressed for a
Saturday night date. He had on a blue
jacket—I think it was a suit jacket—
charcoal trousers and a white shirt.

“He seemed embarrassed at meeting
so many people. He said it was a long
drive out from the city and he was in
a hurry to get going. He spoke sort
of gruffly. He asked Shirley if she
was ready, then he said he was glad
he’d met us all, and held the front
door open for her. Shirley said, ‘Vl
see you later,’ and that’s the last time
we saw her.” None of the family had
looked out to see what kind of a car
Williams drove, she added.

At first, the case, to Sergeants Ruble
and Kealy, had the earmarks of an
elopement. But when they visited the
friendship club in Los Angeles and
obtained the Pasadena address Wil-
liams had given they discovered it was
a fictitious address. Further, the de-
scription of the man, as supplied by
the operator of the club, didn’t check
with that given by the missing divor-
cee’s family. The operator described
him as not more than 5 feet 7 or 9,
150 pounds, of slender build, with
brown eyes, prominent ears, no mus~
tache and no glasses.

Learning that Williams had dated a
26-year-old Hollywood secretary
through the club on March 6th, the
detectives interviewed this girl, whose
description of the man tallied with
that given by the club operator. “He
was a perfect gentleman,” the secre-
tary assured the officers. “We spent
the evening in my apartment, just
chatting. He told me he was a plumber
in Pasadena. He said he drove a 1953
Chevrolet sedan.” :

Sergeants Ruble and Kealy consid-
ered the possibility that the original
“Williams,” the man who recently had
registered at the club, had traded
his Saturday night blind date off to
some pal. They still had the feeling
that a sudden romance had developed,
and predicted that Shirley Bridge-
ford’s mother might get a telegram
from Las Vegas or Tijuana, announc-
ing her marriage.

Nevertheless they broadcast an all-
points bulletin carrying the descrip-
tions of Shirley and her escort. The
24-year-old brunette, a former factory
worker, was described as 5 feet 5,
119 pounds, with brown hair worn in
a short bob, blue eyes, slightly freckled
complexion, small scars under each
ear. When she went out Saturday
night, she was wearing a new blue-
green dress, high-heeled black suede
shoes and a full-length tan or biege
wool coat. Around her neck she wore

green stones.

When another day had gone by with
no word from the missing brunette, the
homicide officers took a serious view
of the case. No one could be found
who had seen Shirley or her escort at
the Western dance, nor anywhere else
around northside Valley social spots,
on Saturday night.

Interviews with her friends con-
vinced the detectives that Shirley was
a sober-minded, conscientious young
woman who would not leave her home
and children on the spur of the mo-
ment, without a word. Loneliness and
restlessness perhaps had- driven her
to an unwise social expedient, but that
didn’t make her irresponsible.

Learning that Shirley, just before
she joined the club, had written to a
young mechanic who advertised for a
girl friend, Sergeants Kealy and Ruble
traced the newspaper ad, located the

‘ae a , Me, ff
es Crp dale

29-year-old man and brought him in
for questioning. He readily admitted
he had received a letter from the lone-
ly divorcee, saying she liked to dance
and enclosing her picture. But he
said he hadn’t had time to reply, and
assured them he never had met Shirley
Bridgeport. He said he was in San
Francisco, 450 miles away, on the Sat-
urday night in question, and inves-
tigation bore out his story. The detec-
tives had the missing woman’s family
view the pen-pal suspect in a line-up
at Van Nuys headquarters. Shirley’s
mother and the other relatives said he
definitely was not the man they had
met as George Williams, and he was
released.

After interviewing and eliminating
a number of men named Williams,
and checking Pasadena plumbers, the
homicide sleuths, aided by other Valley


80

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Case of the
Homicidal Pinup
Photographer

(Continued from page 61)

he walked slowly toward them, his
burning eyes still fixed on the girl.
The officer ordered him to stop.
“Okay,” the man said quietly.
Mulligan radioed for assistance.
Shortly Orange County sheriff’s depu-
ties, Tustin police units and additional
highway patrolmen arrived, and the
gunman and his intended victim were
taken to the sheriff's office at Santa Ana.
Later, Betsy Bell, tearful and shaken
now that the nightmare ordeal was over,
was taken home after telling her story
and receiving emergency treatment for
bruises, scratches and the bullet graze
on her thigh.

“He’s a killer,” she told the deputies.
“I could see it in his eyes. He’d have-
killed me for sure if I hadn’t grabbed
his gun and hung onto it.”

The jug-eared, crop-haired prisoner,
now subdued, identified himself as Har-
vey Morris Glatman, a 30-year-old, Los
Angeles television repairman, a native
of New York City. When the officers
noted that his car bore Colorado plates,
he explained he had come to California
early in 1957, and kept the car regis-
tered to his widowed mother’s address
in Denver, where he had lived for years.

Glatman had $725 cash in his wallet
and deputies found another $200 cached
under the floormat of his car. He said
the money represented savings from his
wages. “I don’t spend much money.”
He smiled dolefully. “I don’t go many
places.” Also in the car were found a
noosed and knotted 5-foot length of sash
cord, like that with which he had tried
to tie Betsy’s wrists; an expensive cam-
era and other photo equipment, includ-
ing plenty of film; some sandwiches and
a large thermos of hot coffee, as though
he was ready for a long journey. The
loaded automatic was a 7.65 mm, Bel-
gian Browning type.

Glatman freely admitted the at-
tempted assault on the dark-haired Los
Angeles model. He said he had done it
on impulse and was sorry. He also
acknowledged that he had served prison
time in New York and Colorado. He
was booked on suspicion of assault with
a deadly weapon and attempted rape.

Questioned for hours the next day by
Sergeant Dan Rios and other officers of
the Santa Ana Sheriff’s Investigation
Bureau, Harvey Glatman filled in de-
tails of his past life and criminal his-
tory, which they confirmed by telegrams
to other cities. Born in New York City
of respectable, hard-working parents,
Glatman was raised in Denver, Colo-
rado. He was arrested there in 1945, at
the age of 17, for a series of robberies
which involved molestation of women
and girl victims, and was sentenced to
1 to 5 years in state prison for aggra-
vated robbery. Released from Canon
City after serving less than a year, he
went to Albany, New York, where he
was soon in trouble again.

In August, 1946, he was jailed as
Albany’s “phantom bandit” who had
robbed and terrorized three women as
they walked home from bus stops in
lonely parts of the city. One of them
later identified a photo of Glatman as

Preparation H®, Ask for it at all drug
counters. :

her 1946 attacker.

Armed with a toy pistol, with which
he threatened to kill the woman, he was
arrested while stalking his fourth vic-
tim. He was convicted of first-degree
grand larceny and sentenced to 5 to 10
years. Paroled from Sing Sing in 1951,
he was discharged from parole in 1956
and came West, finally landing in Cali-
fornia by way of Denver.

Although the unkempt, jug-eared
young man talked quite readily and
glibly about his long-past offenses and
his most recent attack on Betsy Bell, he
was evasive when quizzed about his
activities in the Los Angeles area during
the past year. This, coupled with the
fact that he carried a gun and had a
large sum of cash in his possession, led
the Orange County sheriff investigators
to suspect he might have perpetrated
armed robberies. This Glatman denied.
But his manner wgs so jittery that his
questioners were certain he was con-
cealing something.

Late that night Sergeant Rios dis-
patched an all-points teletype to sheriffs
and police, detailing the circumstances
of Glatman’s arrest and asking if he
might be linked with any crimes in their
jurisdictions.

The bulletin came to the desk of the
Wilshire detectives the next morning
and immediately riveted their attention.
They noted that while the actual crime
had taken place in the next county, .
both Harvey Glatman and Betsy Bell
lived in their district, he on South Nor-
ton Avenue only a few blocks from Ruth
Mercado’s apartment, and that, like
Ruth, Betsy had aspired to be a pinup
model.

Sergeants Jackson and Light inter-
viewed Betsy Bell and secured full de-
tails of her experience, and that
afternoon Sergeant Rios came to Los.
Angeles and they went with him to Har-
vey: Glatman’s apartment, which they
searched with the permission of his
elderly landlady.

They found the place plastered with

pinup photos of nude beauties, some_

picturing girls bound and gagged in
“torture” poses. They found several
lengths of sash cord similar to that he
had used on Betsy, and more expensive
photo equipment. They looked for rob-
-bery loot, but found nothing suspicious.

Checking on Harvey Glatman around
the Pico-Crenshaw neighborhood, the
detectives found he frequented a num-
ber of the same places as had Ruth
Mercado, or ‘Angela Rojas.” He was
an amateur photographer, addicted to
nude pinups; she was a_ professional
nude pinup model; it was extremely
likely their paths had crossed. But the
investigation had to be handled deli-
cately. There was no evidence as yet
to link Glatman. to the other missing
models.

Lieutenant Jones consulted on the
telephone with Sergeant Rios the next
morning, Thursday, October 30th, and
it was decided to ask the jug-eared
’ suspect to submit to a lie detector test.
Lieutenant Jones dispatched Sergeants
Jackson and Erbsen to Santa Ana, and
they picked up Sergeant Pierce R.
Brooks of central homicide on the way
to headquarters.

Glatman, haggard and_ unshaven,
glumly agreed to undergo the lie test,
and he was taken to the district attor-
ney’s office and put on the polygraph
by Investigator Joel Hayes. He ap-
peared interested in the mechanism of
the test. When the Wilshire detectives
strolled in while he was being quizzed,
and Sergeant Rios casually remarked
that they had come down from Los An-
geles to ask him about some missing
girls, he showed no reaction.

Howev:
name “A
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homicide men of the various juris-
dictions now began to think in terms
of the same sex killer for all three.

At this point a series of new devel-
opments began. At 9 o’clock Monday
night, October 27th, a man rang the
doorbell of a modeling agency on Sun-
set Boulevard in Hollywood. The caller
was a young man the operator of the
agency knew as Frank Johnson. He
was an amateur photographer for
whom she had posed for pinup pictures
once last summer, before she opened
her own agency.

That Monday night Johnson, a slen-
der dark-haired fellow about 30 years
old, asked her if she could come over
to his apartment for some pinup shots.
There was something about his taut,
nervous face, his large, intense eyes set
between prominent jug-ears, his un-
kempt brown hair and his sloppy at-
tire that repelled the professional
model.

“Okay, I’ll come, if we can go in my
car and take along a chaperone,” she
told him. But that didn’t suit Johnson

60 ‘He wanted to drive his own car, an

Harvey Glatman said, “I'd make them kneel down and I'd tie their ankles together ... they didn’t suffer much, Ropes fascinate me

he did not want any third person
along.

The agency operator thought of
Betsy Bell, a small, shapely, raven-
haired, 27-year-old Latin girl who was
anxious to get into the modeling pro-
fession. Betsy, who came from San
Jose, California, had taken a modeling
course in San Francisco. She came to
Los Angeles in 1957 and worked as a
stenographer-accountant, but she was
determined to become a model. She
had answered the agency’s newspaper
ad, but had had no modeling assign-
ments as yet.

The agency operator telephoned
Betsy and asked if she wanted to take
the job. She explained that she herself
had posed for Johnson before. Betsy
accepted, and the operator sent the
amateur photographer over to the pri-
vate home where Betsy roomed in the
Wilshire district. When he had left,
she called Betsy again and wanted her
to be on her guard. There was some-
thing about this photographer she
didn’t like, the operator said.

The jug-eared man picked up Betsy

about 9:30 p.m., blowing his horn and
waiting outside in his black two-door.
1951 Dadge club coupe, instead of
coming to the door. She asked him for
her $15 fee in advance, as they started
out. He handed her $10 and said he
would give her the balance later. He
started to drive east toward downtown
Los Angeles. ;

“This isn’t the Way to the studio,”
Betsy pointed out. She had misunder-
stood, and thought they were supposed
to go there.

“We're not going to her place,” he
told her. “She has some other people
coming there. We’re going to my own
studio. It’s down in Anaheim, but it
won't take us long to get there.”

Betsy asked what sort of pictures he
was going to take, and for what pur-
pose, but he did not reply. He turned

southeast on the Santa Ana Freeway .

and stepped on the gas. They sped
through suburban Downey and Nor-

walk. The man hung onto the wheel, °

staring straight ahead and saying noth-
ing in answer to the girl’s nervous

questions. He increased his speed to a: ©

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ance later. He
ard downtown

to the studio,”
had misunder-
were supposed

her place,” he
e other people
ng to my own
snaheim, but it
et there.”

. of pictures he
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eply. He turned
4 Ana Freeway
zas. They sped
wwney and Nor-
onto the wheel,
and saying noth-
» girl’s nervous
i his speed to a

dangerous rate as they crossed the
Orange County line and terror gripped
the girl as he shot through Anaheim
without slackening, and on through
Santa Ana, 35 miles southeast of Los
Angeles.

Suddenly the wild-eyed driver
slowed, turned down a dark, lonely
side road which Betsy later learned
was Tustin Avenue. He stopped and
killed his motor. “I’ve got a flat tire,”
he announced.

The dark-haired would-be model
guessed what was coming and was too
terrified to be surprised when the man
pulled a gun, a wicked-looking little
automatic. “Okay, Betsy, now I want
you to do as I say,” he told her in a
tense, cracking voice. “Do what I tell
you, and you won't get hurt.”

Betsy pleaded with him not to hurt
her. This angered him, and he told her
he’d really hurt her if she didn’t shut
up. He was waving the gun menac-
ingly.

“Okay, I’ll do whatever you say,” the
girl stammered desperately, hoping to
placate him. “T don’t want to get hurt.”

He took a short length of rope from
his pocket, grabbed the terrified girl’s
left wrist and knotted the rope around
it. He tried to wrench her right hand
behind her back, to tie her wrists to-
gether.

“Please don’t tie me!” she pleaded.
“P}] do anything you want, if you just
don’t tie me. What do you want?”

“All right, just don’t give me any
trouble,” her captor said, waving the
gun a few inches from her breast.

“Don’t argue with me. I can kill you
any time I want to,"

Betsy Bell suddenly started scream-
ing and banging on the car door. Other
cars were passing by, but none of the
drivers noticed what was going on.

The man beside her clapped a hand
over her mouth and clamped his other
arm around her neck. “People will
think we’re just necking.” He laughed
harshly. “I could choke you right now,
if I wanted to.”

He laid the gun down and again

tried to tie her hands, but the wiry

4

110-pound, 5-foot-2 brunette fought
him off and started screaming again.
He picked up the automatic. “I’ll kill
you!” he rasped. “Pye lost patience
with you. I’m an ex-con. I don’t care
if I go to the gas chamber.”

Frantic, knowing instinctively that
her wild-eyed assailant meant what he
said, Betsy grabbed the muzzle of the
gun and turned it away from her. They
struggled furiously in the car seat.
Suddenly the gun went off with a
deafening bang. A slug tore through
the girl’s skirt and burned her thigh.

“Pye shot you,” the man said daz-
edly, looking down at the gun in his
hand.

Almost out of her wits with terror,
reacting out of sheer instinct of self-
preservation, the little brunette seized
the moment to reach around him with
her freé hand and open the car door
on his side. She shoved with all her
strength and they both tumbled out
onto the road shoulder.

Betsy kept her desperate hold on the
gun, She managed to turn it around
and tried to pull the trigger, but
couldn’t do so. Her assailant was curs-
ing. She grabbed his gun hand and
sank her teeth into his wrist. With a
howl of pain, he let go of the gun. The
girl turned it on him, trying to pull the
trigger as she scrambled to her feet.

In the desperate struggle both had
forgotten the passing cars. Suddenly
the scene: was bathed in a spotlight
glare and a gruff official voice de-
manded: “What’s going on here?”

It was Officer Thomas F. Mulligan,
of the California highway patrol, a
husky 33-year-old former semi-profes-
sional football player. On his way
home to Costa Mesa on his motorcycle,
after going off duty at Anaheim head-
quarters, he providentially turned
down Tustin Avenue and spotted- the
parked car and the struggling figures.

“He’s trying to kill me! He’s crazy!”
the girl panted, running to the uni-
formed officer, the gun in her right
hand, the rope still dangling from her
left wrist. “I took this gun away from
him!”

The erstwhile attacker stood still,
staring at the sobbing girl in her dis-
arrayed clothes. “His eyes were big as
silver dollars,” Officer Mulligan said
later. Then (Continued on page 80)

Glatman (r.) led officers to graves of

young models who were bound, tortured 61


ih which
1, he was
irth vie-
st-degree
5 to 10
in 1951,
» in 1956
in Cali-

jug-eared
dily and
nses and
- Bell, he
,bout his
a during
with the
id had a

ion, led
‘stigators
rpetrated
. denied.
- that his
was con-

Rios dis-
to sheriffs
‘sumstances
cing if he
es in their

iesk of the
morning

- attention.
‘tual crime
xt county,
Betsy Bell
South ‘Nor-
- trom Ruth
that, like

be a pinup

ight inter-
od full de-
and that
me to Los
im to Har-
vhich they
i of his

‘ered with
ities, some
sagged in
4d several
to that he
xpensive
for rob-
suspicrous.
san around
nood, the
ted asnum-
s had Ruth
“ He was
iddicted to
professional
is extremely
ed. But the
indjed  deli-
dence as yet
er missing

ited on the
Rios the next
ser 30th, and
the jug-eared
. detector test.
ned Sergeants
inta Ana, and
int Pierce R.
de on the way

nd  unshaven,
19 the lie test,
. district attor-
the polygraph
‘ayes. He ap-
. mechanism of
shire detectives
being quizzed
ially remarke
, trom Los An-

tion,

some missing

lib 2

9s Si 5 bali

However, he reacted violently to the
name “Angela,” when it was mentioned
to him among other girls’ names, and
also to the missing model's street, Pico
Boulevard. It wasn’t long before he
broke. “Okay, I killed that girl, Angela
Rojas. I killed a couple of other girls
too. Give me a cigarette and Yl tell
you all about it. I was going to tell you
anyway, but I wanted to see how this

_ machine worked.”

Soon the jug-eared young TV repair-
man was pouring out to the tense inves-
tigators one of the most appalling mass
murder confessions in California crime
history. Harvey Glatman admitted that
he was the abductor and killer of Judy
Ann Dull, Shirley Ann Bridgeford and
Ruth Rita Mercado. He was the long-
sought Johnny Glynn, he was George
Williams, and he was Ruth Mercado’s
unseen night visitor.

In each case his admitted motive was
sexual assault. After forcing the girls
to submit to him at gunpoint, Glatman
said, he knew he had to kill them, be-
cause they could identify him and his
car. He took them out to lonely desert
areas many miles from Los Angeles.

“I truly hated to kill those girls,” he

_ assured the officers. “But it just had to

be. My fear of being caught was almost
as great as my compulsion toward
women. With each one I did it the same
way, with that same length of cord you
found. in my car. I lured them out to
lonely places, on the pretext of taking
pictures before I let them go. I’d make
them kneel dow. and tie their hands
behind them with a short rope.

“Then I made them lie flat on their
stomachs, and I'd tie their ankles to-
gether with one end of my long cord.
I’d loop the middle part around their
necks. Then I’d stand there and keep
pulling on the other end till they stopped
struggling. They didn’t suffer much.
None of them really knew I was going
to kill her—till the last few minutes.

“Angela pleaded with me at the last
minute, ‘Oh, God, don’t do it!’ Shirley
Bridgeford said, ‘Please—please! I have
two children!’ Judy didn’t say anything
at all.

“I've always been fascinated by ropes,
ever since I was a kid. Seems to me

. I've always had a piece of rope in my

hands,” he added.

In the case of Judy Ann Dull, whom
Harvey Glatman had picked as a victim
after first intending to date Rose Arden,
the murder monster calmly related, he
first drove the blonde model to the
apartment where he then lived on Mel-
rose Avenue in Hollywood. There, after
snapping some nude poses, he threat-
ened her with his gun, tied her hands
and raped her twice. Judy pleaded with
him to let her go, and promised to tell
no one, but Harvey was afraid, he said,
because she could lead the police to his

apartment. He decided he had to kill

her.

After forcing her to sit watching TV
for several hours at gun point, late
that night he drove her out San Ber-
nardino Freeway to the desert north of
Indio, 130 miles from Hollywood, keep-
ing her quiet by telling her he was
going to release her at some out-of-the-
way point and then get out of California.

Stopping in an_ isolated spot near
Thousand Palms, the killer recounted,
he took more pictures of her by flash-
light, then partially disrobed the terri-
fied girl, and strangled her with the rope
in the manner he had described. He
scooped a shallow grave because the
spot was near the highway. His account
left no doubt that the “Jane Doe” body
found near Thousand Palms in Decem-
ber was that of Judy Dull. The lab men

had erred in estimating the age of the
victim.

Glatman readily confirmed it was he
who had originally dated the Hollywood
secretary through the Lonely Hearts
agency. He didn’t like her, he said, be-
cause she talked too much and served
him tea and cakes. So he left her alone,
and made the date with Shirley Ann
Bridgeford.

Shirley didn’t like his looks, Harvey
revealed, and initially balked at going
with him. Instead of taking her to the
dance, he drove down the coast to
Oceanside, where he parked and tried
to force his attentions on the brunette
divorcee. When she repulsed him, he
drove east to the edge of the San Diego
County desert country, over her pro-
tests. Finally, pulling his gun, he forced
her into the roadside brush, tied her up
and raped her.

He then drove farther inland over
U.S. 78, through Escondido and Julian.
He killed Shirley before dawn in a
desolate spot off the old Butterfield
Stage Road in Earthquake Valley, in
Anza Desert State Park, some 180 miles
from their San Fernando Valley starting
point. He forced the sobbing young
mother to walk a quarter of a mile up
a dry wash. She had to take off her
high heels to walk on the rocks. He
snapped some pictures of her, then
killed her as he had killed Judy Dull.
He left Shirley’s body lying there, fully
clothed, merely strewing some brush
over it, he said.

He played his most sadistic game,
Glatman disclosed, with his third vic-
tim, Ruth Mercado, whom he knew as
Angela Rojas. He had called on her
the night before, in response to her
newspaper ad. Ruth came to the door
in her robe and said she was ill, On
the night of July 23rd he returned, but
found the apartment dark. He went to
a bar and had a few beers, then went
back and saw that Ruth’s light was on.
When the Latin beauty hesitated to ad-
mit him at that late hour, he pulled his
gun and forced his way in. He ordered
her to strip, tied her up and assaulted
her several times. He sat around for a
while and took pictures at leisure of the
bound and terrified girl.

Then, in the small hours of the morn-
ing, he forced Ruth to put on her robe
and accompany him to his car, parked
in the alley. He told her they were
going out to the desert to take more
pictures. Again he headed for the wild
San Diego County area, beyond Escon-
dido.

He spent the entire day in the desert
with his victim. He had brought food
and drink along, as he always did. He
took more pictures, making his hysteri-
cal victim pose nude on a blanket.

“She was the only one I really liked.”
Harvey Glatman recounted ruefully. “I
didn’t want to kill her, and I tried to
figure a way out for her, but I couldn't
come up with any answer. So I finally
got out the rope and did it, the same as
I did with the others.”

Ruth Mercado was stripped to her
panties when he killed her, that second
night in a lonely wash near Carrizo
Springs at the Imperial County line, 32
miles farther southeast down the old
stage road from the spot where he had
slain Shirley Bridgeford. He took Ruth's
panties home with him, for a souvenir.

That was the TV repairman’s ghastly
tape-recorded confession. It took two
hours for the detailed telling. “I puess
I’m driving the last nail in my coffin,
telling all this,” he wound up with a
sickly smile. “TI used to think about
giving myself up, but I didn’t have the
guts.”

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Case File

(Continued from page 9)

LOS ANGELES PINUP MURDERS
(TD February, 1959)

In Hollywood, California, on October
27th, 1958, Harvey Morris Glatman, 30,
a TV repairman posing as a photogra-
pher, lured 19-year-old model Lorraine
Vigil into his car, presumably to take
her to his studio to pose for pinup pic-
tures. Instead, he drove at high speed
toward the desert. At Tustin he stopped
the car, drew a revolver and a rope and
tried to tie up the girl. Lorraine fought
him fiercely, seized the barrel of the re-
volver. It went off, wounding her
slightly. At that moment a squad car
passed and the officer arrested Glatman.

With this arrest came the solution to
the mysterious disappearance of three
lovely Hollywood pinup models. On Au-
gust Ist, 1957, beautiful Judy Ann Dull,
19, vanished after getting into a car to
keep a studio appointment. On March
8th, 1958, Shirley Ann Bridgeford, 24,
similarly disappeared, as did Ruth Rita
Mercado, also 24, on July 23rd.

Glatman confessed taking the three
models to lonely desert areas miles from
Los Angeles. There he bound and
gagged them, then photographed them
in their terror and agony. Then, after
raping the helpless girls, he strangled
them. He led officials to the desert
graves, where the bleached bones of his
victims were found. The photographs
on this page were discovered in Glat-
man’s apartment in Los Angeles.

On December 17th Superior Judge

a

John A. Hewicker sentenced Glatman 1%
to die in San Quentin gas chamber. A hi
hy,

be

z ee te oe 3

“Ruth (l.) was the one I really liked,” he said. “I didn’t want'to kill her. Shirley (r.) said, ‘Please—I have two children.’ ”

63

TRUS. (DETETWE


a

Rosemarie “Penny” Bjorkland

PONY-TAILED BLONDE
WITH A .38

(TD August, 1959)

“I’m unhappy—lI didn’t expect this,”
said Rosemarie “Penny” Bjorkland, 18.
It was Thursday, August 6th, 1959.
Standing in the Redwood City, Cali-
fornia, court of Superior Judge Frank
Blum. she had heard the judge find her
guilty of first-degree murder and sen-
tence her to life in Corona Prison for
the February Ist, 1959, slaying of August
Norry, 28, landscape artist, whose 20-
year-old wife was expecting their first
baby.

August Norry had been shot 16 times,
as 1f someone had used him for a target,
His body was found on a hill about a
mile trom his Daly City, California,
home. The bullets were traced to the
pony-tailed blonde. Arrested on April
14th, she confessed that she had met
him by chance as He was dumping

NG LIS

Report of latest legal developments

on eases published by TD

leaves from his pickup truck. “I had an
urge to use him for my human target.”

At first Penny pleaded innocent by
reason of insanity. On July 20th,
through her lawyer, she withdrew her
insanity plea and pleaded guilty. “May-
be the judge will give me_ second
degree,” Penny said hopefully.

Betore determining the degree of her
guilt and her punishment, Judge Blum,
on July 28th, listened to psychiatric
reports on Penny. A defense psychiatrist
contended the teenager was legally in-
sane, “a schizophrenic of paranoid
type,’ whose hatred of her mother had
been transformed into an urge to “kill
somebody.” But three prosecution psy-
chiatrists found her legally sane at the
time of the murder and at the present
time, capable of forming intent to mur-
der and capable of realizing what she
was doing.

And on August 6th Judge Blum issued
his verdict: “The facts of the case show
wilful, premeditated murder.”

LOS ANGELES PINUP MURDERS

(TD February, 1959)

Captured on October 27th, 1958, when
a 19-year-old Hollywood model he was
attempting to molest managed to attract
the attention of an officer, Harvey Morris
Glatman, 30, confessed that he lured
young models to pose for him, then
strangled them, leaving their bodies in
a desert area outside Los Angeles. He
led authorities to the desert graves where
the bleached bones of his victims were
found. These were Judy Ann Dull, 19,
who vanished August Ist, 1957; Shirley
Ann Bridgeford, 24, who disappeared
March 8th, 1958, and Ruth Rita Mercado,
24, last seen on July 23rd, 1958. Photos
of the three girls, bound and gagged,
were found in Glatman’s room.

On December 17th, 1958, Superior
Judge John A. Hewicker sentenced Glat-
man to die in the San Quentin gas cham-
ber. The sentence was sustained by the
California superior court, after hearing
the automatic appeal in his behalf. And
on July 6th, 1959, Judge Hewicker set
September 18th as the date for Glat-
man’s execution.

Ethel Kravitz

SUMMER HEAT AND HOMICIDE

(TD October, 1958)

On July 4th, 1958, Max Kravitz, 48,
wealthy real estate operator, was found
slain in his handsome home in Wynne-
wood, Pennsylvania. He had been shot
three times and there were thirteen deep
wounds in his head. On July 5th his wife.
Mrs. Ethel Kravitz, 46, was arrested,
charged with the murder of her husband.

In Montgomery County court in Nor-
ristown, on December 12th, a jury otf
eight women and four men found Mrs.
Ethel Kravitz guilty of second-degree
murder and recommended mercy. He:
appeals for an arrest of judgment and a
new trial were denied and on July 17th,
1959, Montgomery County Court Presi-
dent Judge William F. Dannehower sen-
tenced her to an indefinite term in the
State Industrial Home for Women at
Muncy. In Pennsylvania women are not
confined to state penitentiaries. Judge
Dannehower stated that her commitment
would date from July 5th, 1958, since
she has been held in the county prison
since that date. Technically she will be
eligible for immediate consideration for
release on parole. (Continued on page 67)


sag be

ete.

It’s in Anaheim, but it won’t take long
to get there.”

Anita tried to strike up a conversa-
tion with the seedy looking driver,
asking him what sort of pictures he
intended to take and how they would
be used. But Johnson didn’t answer di-
rectly and refused to be drawn into a
conversation. He turned on to the Santa
Ana freeway and stepped on the gas.
The car sped through several suburban
towns, Johnson clinging to the wheel,
staring straight in front of him and not
answering the model’s nervous ques-
tions. Johnson increased the speed of
the car to a dangerous’ point and the
dark-haired girl grew terrified as they
shot past Anaheim and sped on.

Suddenly the sinister-looking driver
slowed the car, turned down a side road
and stopped. “We've got a flat,” he
announced tonelessly.

The aspiring model knew what was
coming, and was not too surprised
when Johnson suddenly whirled around
with a gun in his hand.

“You better do what I tell you,” he
said, his voice crackling with tension.
“If you don’t want to get hurt do exact-
ly what I tell you.”

The petite brunette pleaded with him
not to hurt her. This seemed to enrage
the nervous, jug-eared assailant and he
shoved the muzzle of his gun hard into
her chest. “Shut up!” he demanded, “or
I'll kill you right now.”

Johnson took a length of rope from
his pocket and grabbing and twisting
Anita’s wrist, knotted the rope around
it. He grabbed for her other wrist.

“Please don’t tie me up,” Anita
pleaded. “I'll do anything you say, only
don’t tie me.”

“OK, but don’t give me any trouble,”
her captor said waving the gun a few
inches from her breast.

UDDENLY Anita started to scream

at the top of her lungs and banged
her fist on the car door. Cars were pass-
ing on the road, but no one noticed the
grim scene that was being played out
in the black Dodge. Johnson clapped a
moist hand over the girl’s mouth and
laughed a wicked, lascivious cackle.

“They'll think we're just necking,”
he said.

Johnson put the gun down and again
tried to tie his victim’s wrists. The little
brunette fought fiercely. Enraged, John-
son picked up the pistol. “I'll kill you
tight now,” he shrieked. He jammed
the gun muzzle into Anita’s stomach.

’ With a desperation and strength that

only comes when death is near, Anita
Serota grabbed the gun barrel and
turned it aside. She fought with all the
strength her 110 pound body could
muster, screaming all the while at the
top of her lungs. They struggled back
and forth in the car seat. Suddenly the
gun went off. Anita felt a hot flash
along her thigh, but she didn’t release
her hold on the gun. The little brunette
managed to reach around Johnson with
her free hand and open the door on
his side. She shoved with all her strength
and both tumbled out onto the road
shoulder. Locked in combat, they rolled

54

across the gravel.

Suddenly, the scene was bathed in the
glare of a spotlight. The combatants
froze in a weird tableau as an authori-
tative voice demanded, “What’s going
on here?”

It was Officer Thomas F. Mulligan
of the state police, who on his way
home, had providentially turned off
down Tustin Road and had come upon
the grim scene.

“He tried to kill me,” Anita sobbed.
“He’s a lunatic.” The girl panted and
ran over to the uniformed man, a length
of rope still wound about her wrist.
“This is his gun,” she said, surprised that

-she had it in her hand.

The disheveled, wide-eyed attacker
paid no attention to the police officer.
He stood staring at the petite brunette.
Then he started to advance toward her.
Mulligan had his gun out in a flash.

“Stop were you are!” he barked. .

“OK,” Johnson said quietly.

Mulligan radioed for help and in
short order both Johnson and Anita
Serota were in the sheriff’s office in
Santa Ana. Johnson identified himself
as Harvey Morris Glatman, 30 years
old, employed as a television repairman
in Los Angeles, Glatman said he was
a native of New York City.’ Officers
found $700 in cash on Glatman’s per-
son and another $200 stashed under the
floor mat in his car. Also found in the
Dodge was expensive photographic
equipment, film, several blankets, more
lengths of knotted rope, and-a bag
full of sandwiches and a thermos of
coffee.

Glatman readily admitted that he had
tried to rape Miss Serota and claimed
that he had acted on impulse and was
sorry. Questioned for hours the next
day by Sergeant Dan Rios of the Santa
Ana sheriff's office, the jug-eared,
rumpled suspect admitted that he had
quite a long criminal record. He ad-
mitted that in 1945 at the age of 17 he
had been arrested and convicted for a
series of robberies in New York which
had involved sexual molestation of his
female victims. For that he spent less
than a year in jail. In 1946 Glatman
was arrested as Albany’s “Phantom
Bandit,” suspected of molesting and ter-
rorizing three women as they walked
home from bus stops in lonely parts of
the city. Glatman was arrested stalking
his fourth victim and sentenced to
Sing Sing Prison for six years. After
his release from parole in 1956 he
came west.

The sheriff's men were puzzled by
the fact that Glatman readily talked
about his most recent activities and
about his distant past, but was silent
about his activities from 1956 until the
attack on Miss Serota.

Sergeant Rios circulated an all-points
bulletin on the capture and circum-
stances of Glatman’s arrest. It came to
the attention of the Wilshire detectives
the next morning and they were im-
mediately interested in the fact that the
victim of the attack was an aspiring pin-
up model. Checking, it was soon noted
that both Glatman and Miss Serota lived
just a few blocks from the apartment

from which Ruth Mercado had dis-
appeared.

Sergeants Light and Jackson inter-
viewed Anita Serota and obtained the
particulars of her horrible experience.
That afternoon Sergeant Rios came up
from Santa Ana and the three investi-
gators searched Harvey Glatman’s apart-
ment. The walls were plastered with
nude pinup photos of numerous beau-
ties, some bordering on the lewd while
others depicted the girls bound and
gagged in “torture” poses.

The investigators circulated around.

the Pico-Crenshaw neighborhood and
learned that Glatman had frequented
many of the same places as had the
missing Ruth, or as she was known,
Angela Rojas.

Glatman was asked to submit to a
lie detector test and after some reluc-
tance he agreed. He expressed a great
deal of curiousity about the machine
when he was placed on the polygraph.
Glatman reacted normally to the first
few questions but the needle shot nearly
off the graph when. he was asked about
the name Angela. A similar reaction
was elicited by mentioning the name
of the street where the missing nude
model had lived, Pico Boulevard. The
jug-eared unkempt prisoner soon broke
down completely. A tape recording ma-
chine was brought in and puffing nerv-
ously on a cigarette, Glatman unloaded
the entire brutal, perverted story.

ARVEY Glatman admitted that he
had killed Judy Dull, Shirley Ann
Bridgeford and Ruth Mercado. In each
case the mofive had been fear of being
caught after sexually assaulting the girls.
He had forced all the girl’s to submit to
him at gunpoint and had then driven
them out to lonely spots in the desert
where he killed them.
“I'd lure them out to the desert on

the pretext of taking some more shots .

before letting them go,” the wild-eyed
fiend admitted. “I made them kneel
down and then I tied their wrists be-
hind them with short lengths of rope.
Then I had them lie flat on their stom-
achs while I tied their ankles. Then I
put nooses around their necks and with
one foot on their backs, I pulled on the
rope until they stopped struggling.

“I’ve always been fascinated by ropes.
Ever since I was a kid I always went
around with a rope in my hand.”

Judy Ann Dull had been Glatman’s
unfortunate accidental victim. He had
gone to the apartment with the inten-
tion of getting Jerri Micheals to pose
for him, but had been so excited by
the pinup photos of Judy in the port-
folio that he chose her instead. Glatman
related that he drove the petite blonde
beauty to the apartment where he then
lived on Melrose Avenue. There he had
Judy disrobe and he snapped several
shots of her. Then he threatened her
with a gun, tied her hands and raped
her twice. The little blonde model had
pleaded with him to let her go. She
swore she wouldn’t tell anyone. But
he was. afraid, Harvey said. After forc-
ing the blonde victim to sit watching
TV for several hours in the nude bound

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

and gagged, he drove her out on the San

' Bernardino freeway near Indio about

130 miles from Hollywood. There he
took more pictures of her by flashlight
and then strangled her in the manner
he described before.

Apparently, the corpse buried as Jane
Doe had been the remains of the un-
fortunate Judy Dull. The lab technicians
had erred in their estimation of the
skeleton’s age.

Glatman confirmed that he had dated
Shirley Bridgeford through the lonely
hearts club as well as the other more
fortunate girl. Harvey related that the
brunette divorcee had not liked his looks
from the outset and had balked at go-
ing with him. He had threatened her
with the gun and forced her to accom-
pany him to Oceanside, where he parked
and forced his attentions on her. He
then drove further inland through Es-
condido and Julien, raping and killing
her in a desolate spot.

Glatman reached the nadir of sadism
and perversion with his third victim,
beautiful, raven-haired Ruth Mercado.
The wiry, jug-eared fiend told the police
that he answered the model’s ad in the
paper and went to her apartment. Ruth
came to the door and said she was ill.
Glatman returned on the night of July
23rd and found no one at home. He
went to a bar on Pico, returning to the
apartment a few hours later, to find
lights on in Ruth’s place. The Latin
model hesitated to admit him, but the
determined sex maniac forced his way in
at gunpoint. He forced Ruth to strip,
tied her up and assaulted her several
times. He sat down then, and at his
leisure, took several pictures of the
bound, terrified girl.

In the small hours of the morning
Glatman put a robe around the model
and forced her into his car. He drove
out beyond Escondido again to a lonely
desert spot. He had food and drink
along as always and spent the entire
day in the desert with his victim. He
took several more pictures, making Ruth
pose nude on a blanket. Finally he
killed her in the same brutal manner as
the others. Glatman revealed that he
had taken some of Ruth Mercado’s
clothing home with him as a souvenir.

He also showed the officers photos
of his victims, taken out on the desert
just before they died.

The officers listening to the two and
a half hour confession were speechless
with horror at its conclusion. They ques-

tioned Glatman about several other sex
crimes that had occurred in the area,

but the besptacled, jug-eared ‘killer
denied that he had had anything to do
with any of them. On this, he was
later tested with the polygraph and
it seemed that he was telling the truth.

In the following days, Glatman re-
enacted each of his crimes, taking the
Officers unerringly to the spot where
he had buried each body.

The Los Angeles district attorney ob-
tained indictments against Harvey
Morris Glatman on three counts of
murder and one of kidnaping and he
was arraigned in a municipal court.
However, it was decided that the sex
monster be turned over to San Diego
County for prosecution, since the slay-
ings of Ruth Mercado and Shirley
Bridgeford had taken place there and
the case against Glatman was most
clear cut.

On November 21st, 1958, Harvey
Glatman was arraigned before Su-
perior Judge John A. Herwicker and he
pleaded guilty to the two murder
charges. A subsequent psychiatric ex-
amination established that Glatman was
legally sane. The accused refused a jury
trial and on December 17th, Judge
Herwicker sentenced the sex slayer to
die in the gas chamber at San Quentin
Prison.

Awaiting execution, Glatman told
reporters that he and he alone had been
responsible for the tragedy and he was
looking forward to death. He repeated-
ly refused to appeal for clemency or
commutation of his sentence. On Sep-
tember 19th, 1959, Harvey Morris
Glatman went to his death in the gas
chamber.

The case of the nude models did not
end there. As an aftermath of the shock-
ing disclosures brought out by Glat-
man’s confession, the Los Angeles City
Council came to a realization of the
potentially dangerous. situation that
existed in the pinup modeling profes-
sion. Investigations were begun into the
lucrative business of cheesecake border-
ing on pornography. As a result, laws

have been enacted which require models

to be at least 18 years of age and photo-
graphers at least 21. Further, both are
now required to show evidence of good
moral character.

Editors Note: The names Sally
Fredricks, Jerri Micheals, Betty Sands
and Anita Serota are fictitious.

DEATH IN THE REHEARSAL HALL
(Continued from page 39)

resenting the Esquire Club in Toronto,
Canada, and two women performers.
The female signatures were in the names
Tania Lubova and Sonja Rossoff.
“One of those two signautres is Julia
Nussenbaum’s,” Inspector McDermott

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

theorized. “Probably her stage name.”

He did a double-take. “That’s odd—
according to this contract both these
girls should be in Toronto right now.
It calls for a nightclub act to run two
weeks, opening the 18th—today. What’s
this girl doing with the contract here?”

R. Cagan and the ambulance hur-
ried in at this point and the victim
was given emergency shock treatment

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55


—-

} on a murder
to prison for
1g his elderly

LIFE
>H

159)

thy socialite
ich, 41, began
lv after June
wife Bar-

th outside
auuimia, home
with her two
lish maid. The
rrested in Las
‘arole Tregoff,
corespondent
1 Was about to
. Both Carole
_rned to West
charges were
- attorney suc-
‘ased on $25,-
as held with-

letails of the

story began to emerge when a 23-year-
old student at Nevada Southern Univer-
sity, a long-time friend of Carole’s, dis-
closed that she had asked him in June
if he knew ‘‘a couple of tough guys who
can take care of someone.” Following
this disclosure an ex-convict, John Pat-
rick Cody, 29, was brought from Minne-
apolis, where he had been serving a sen-
tence for passing bad checks. Under a
guarantee of immunity he told the grand
jury he had accepted $350 from
on June 2nd, with a promise of $
be paid when the “job was done.”
said, “I was just stringing the
to get the money.” He reported to
and Dr. Finch that he had done t
and collected the rest of the 1:
When Dr. Finch discovered Barba
still alive, he told Cody he had
“a tragic mistake,” and gave him a
$100 “to do the job right.” Carole’s
corroborated Cody’s story.

Carole’s bail was then revoked and
on October 7th the grand jury returned
new indictments charging both Dr.
Finch and Carole Tregoff with murder
and conspiracy to commit murder. Both
were then rearraigned before Superior
Judge Lewis E. Drucker, and returned to
jail to await trial.

THE GIRL REFUSED TO BE
THE SECOND CORPSE

(TD October, 1959)

Vivian A. Meagher, 56, of Seattle,
Washington, vanished on June 18, 1959,
while on a business trip. His body was
found on June 24th by the roadside 45
miles southwest of Yakima, Washington.
He had been shot and beaten to death.
His white Dodge and his wallet were
missing.

Two young nurses attached to the
Northern State Hospital reported that
John Bernard Doyle, 21, a:mental pa-
tient, had escaped from a maximum se-
curity ward there after attacking them.
Meagher’s son, en route to Toppenish to
identify his father’s body, saw his white

John Bernard Doyle

TRus DETECTWE

None!

Dodge specd past and notified police.
The Dodge was found parked near Cle
Elum, Doyle asleep inside it, a blood-

stained revolver beside him. He had
Meagher’s wallet and identification pa-
pers

gree murder in the fatal shooting
ivian Meagher. Under federal law
e€ maximum sentence for second-de-
gree murder is life imprisonment.

LOS ANGELES PINUP MURDERS

(TD February, 1959)

Los Angeles TV repairman Harvey M.
Glatman, 31, representing himself as a
photographer for a crime magazine,
lured three beautiful Hollywood models
into the desert to pose for him. There he
bound and gagged them, then raped
them. As they slowly died from stran-
gulation, he photographed his young vic-
tims. The first was Judy Ann Dull, 19,
who vanished on August 1, 1957. His
second victim was Shirley Ann Bridge-
ford, 24, who disappeared on March 8,
1958. And the third was Ruth Rita Mer-
cado, slain July 23, 1958.

Glatman was arrested on October
27, 1958, in Tustin, California, when a
fourth intended victim managed to es-
cape him and summon help. He con-
fessed the three murders and led officers
to the desert graves of the missing mod-
els. The photographs he took of their
death struggles were found in his apart-
ment.

Rejecting a jury trial, Glatman
pleaded guilty before Judge John A. He-
wicker in San Diego, and on December
17, 1958, he was sentenced to die in
the San Quentin gas chamber. He in-
sisted that he wanted no pleas made in
his behalf. When his mandatory appeal
came before the state supreme court,
Glatman’s attorney reported that Glat-
man wished no move to be made to save
him and Glatman himself wrote to the
court, asking that the appeal be dis-

Judy Ann Dall

CA ( 9aN VLE_KO

) August 18, 1959

missed, “It was my own fault,” he said.
“T only want to die.”

His wish was granted on September
18, 1959, and he walked calmly to the
small, green-walled execution chamber
and awaited the action of the cyanide
pellets.

THE ACTRESS, THE BLACKMAI
AND THE DEAD DETEC

(TD November, 1959,

enacted in 1957
afas abolished for cer-
tain cate f murder. It was re-
tained, h Ps * the slaying of a
police officer in the performance of his
duty. Thus when German-born Guenter
Fritz Podola, 30, shot to death Detective
Sergeant Raymond Purdy, 43, who was
arresting him for blackmail, Podola be-
came subject to a death sentence.

The murder of Sergeant Purdy oc-
curred on July 13, 1959, in fashionable
Onslow Square, London, England, Po-
dola, who had a lengthy record for
blackmail and burglary, had been prey-
ing on residents of the Square and Purdy
had tracked him down there. Since Lon-
don officers go unarmed, Purdy guarded
his prisoner while his partner went to
summon the police van. Suddenly Podola
pulled a concealed gun, shot Purdy dead
and fled. He was captured again on July
20th and charged with murder. His plea
that he had no memory of the shooting
was discounted.

After a two-day trial in Old Bailey
Court, Podola was found guilty and was
sentenced to hang on October 16th. An
appeal delayed the execution, but on Oc-
tober 15th five British judges dismissed
the appeal. A new execution date will be
set, unless Home Secretary Richard A.
Butler grants Podola a reprieve.

| HAD TO CALL THEIR DEADLY
BLUFF

(TD July, 1959)

Due to his courage and self-control,
Jesse C. Richards, a 54-year-old Geneva,
Nebraska, farmer, escaped without in-
jury after a terrifying 3-hour ride with
two escapees from a girls’ training school
in Geneva. Returning with his wife and
children to their home on the evening of
March 21, 1959, after a day’s shopping
in town, they were met at their door by
Janet Lou Spegel, 16, and Peggy Ann
Moore, 18, armed with a loaded revolver
and a knife. At gun point they forced
Richards to drive them in his car. Janet
sat beside him, holding the gun against
his side. Peggy, in the back seat, held
a knife against his neck.

Richards kept calm, trying to figure
a way of escape, but they had reached
Salina, Kansas, before he saw a police
car approaching. He threatened to crash
it, head-on, unless the girls threw their
gun and knife from the car. Terrified,
they obeyed and Richards stopped beside
the police car.

A federal kidnaping charge was lodged
against Janet and Peggy and they were
returned to Nebraska. This charge, how-
ever, was later dismissed and Judge r
Robert Van Pelt ordered the two girls 5
to be confined in a correctional institu-
fiom until they reached 21 years of age.

J AMUARY

llc ©


ery, whom the
.ette apparently
message to the
miles from the
» had been just
-overed, :

wrematurely and
ad issued a local
ring his deputies
and gas stations
for any trace of
Rambler station

Hawthorne. The
‘e was that of a
Park race track.
-horne detectives
yung couples, one
;, had been living
Their names and
landlord couldn’t
ice were checking

ne blazing middle
vent .45 slugs re-
missing handbag
ab crew secured a
> tire marks and
-om the pop bot-

2 prints. ““They’re
couple positively,
oarison,” Captain
identification bu-
t good enough -to
> find them in the

a further clue:
” And in his black
al heel stud, were
amp of a Pasadena

in his chin and a

i the murder spot.
his aides returned
ion. Captain Sellas
its, to be rushed.to

stive force to work
guties started con-
. Monica and San
th the “SM” mono-
e Pasadena haber-

ersons reports and
ate that afternoon,
ue and white Ram-
ciff Bland issued an
, to peace officers
, described the vic-
slaying, as well as

ad man’s shoes had
», but there was no
uyer of the necktie
checking further.

headlining the news
ice was flooded with
a full crew working

a retired air force
been stolen by two
‘iptions closely fitted
» two men were soon
olton, and rushed to

the sheriff’s office. They admitted stealing the Cadillac but
denied having been anywhere near the murder scene.
Deputies set out to check their alibis.

Two women of Inglewood, near Hawthorne, reading
about the murders, told police they believed the girl victim
was their niece, 18-year-old. Mrs. Helen Archer of Santa

Maria, who had been staying with them. Helen, a pony-

tailed brunette, was pregnant and her young husband was
unemployed. When they came home Monday afternoon, the
woman said, they found a note from Helen, saying' her
husband and his two brothers had come down from Santa
Maria to pick her up, and they were all driving up to Las
Vegas, Nevada, to look for work.

The worried aunts said Ted Archer had two brothers,
whom they had never liked, who fitted the general descrip-
tions of the two roughly-dressed “crumbs,” although they
were younger men. Ted was 22, ‘his brothers were 27 and
37. The two brothers had police records. The aunts said
Ted drove a blue station wagon, which they believed was a
Nash Rambler. Officers sped the two women over to San
Bernardino and the sheriff took them to the desert air base
mortuary, where they looked at the girl’s body and shaken-
ly said they believed it was their niece. They couldn’t iden-
tify her companion in death, but thought he might be one
of her brothers-in-law. :

Deputies located Helen Archer’s parents in Pasadena.
They, too, made tentative identification of. the blackened,
bloated body, although they didn’t recognize the tattoo.
Carl Gutknecht, the Adelanto grocer, viewed photos of
Helen and the Archer brothers and thought they looked
like the group he had seen, but he couldn’t be certain. There
was a discrepancy in the time element, as the Archers
were not believed to have left Inglewood till Monday after-
noon.

Sheriff Bland issued on Wednesday afternoon an all-
points bulletin for pickup of the Archer brothers, or the
two survivors, for investigation of murder. At the same
time the two scared auto thieves were cleared of murder
suspicion when their alibis checked out.

Hawthorne police came through with a further report.
One of the tenants had returned to the apartment on East
120th Street. He was a young mechanic, George Smiley,
who lived there with his wife and another couple. He
didn’t recall having written down his address for anyone.
He told the detectives his friend, Hank Williams, generally
resembled the description of the murdered 6-footer, and
had visited him the previous week. It was possible Hank
had jotted down the address. ‘

Early Thursday morning the Archer identification col-
lapsed. An oral chart supplied by Helen Archer’s Altadena
dentist didn’t check with the teeth of the slain brunette.
The coroner’s autopsy surgeon reported the dead woman
was not pregnant,.and that John and Jane Doe were several
years older than the Archer couple. The autopsy established
that both victims’ skulls had been shattered by .45 bullets
fired at close range. The surgeon estimated the slayings
had taken place early Monday morning, Labor Day.

The pickup order for the Archers was withdrawn. San
Bernardino deputies were running down other leads, and
a mounted reserve posse was combing a wide desert area
around the murder scene.

Amid all this activity the sheriff’s homicide and identifi-
cation experts were still doggedly following up their slim
original clues. The 1949 “SM” class ring with the initials
“R.N.” proved to be the jackpot clue. San Bernardino
deputies turned up the name of a Minnesota firm which
manufactured a°similar ring about 10 years ago. Fortu-

nately the Midwest manufacturer had preserved his old —

records. The firm had sold just two such rings in California
in 1949—to San Marino Prep School, near Pasadena. The
roster of the graduating class of 1949 showed only one boy
with the initials “R.N.” He was Richard Lee Nowlen, adop-
ted son of a wealthy and prominent Pasadena _architect
and artist who had since retired and moved to Laguna
Beach. e (Continued on page 82)

nf,

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‘Insp. Oxnevad now had evidence to support a murder charge


~

82

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(Continued from page 19)

The elder Nowlens, now active in La-
guna art circles, were traveling abroad and
couldn’t be contacted immediately, but the
name of Richard Lee Nowlen rang a bell
with the law. The tall, handsome, curly-
haired, 28-year-old adopted son of a fine
family was well known to police through-
out the Los Angeles area. He was currently
wanted for escaping from a Chino prison
honor camp, and he fitted exactly the de-
scription of the murdered John Doe.

Dick Nowlen, adopted by the California
architect and his wife in Michigan when he
was five years old, and given their name,
had been given every educational and cul-
tural advantage and opportunity, but some-
how he went haywire.

An electrical engineer by trade, Dick
Nowlen had a long arrest record in Los
Angeles, Pasadena, Glendale and elsewhere,
including charges of robbery, assault, kid-
naping, drunk driving, forgery, bad checks
and parole violation.

Nowlen had escaped from the prison road
camp at Cedar Springs near Mt. Wilson on
August 9, 1959, along with two other young
convicts, Ronald D. Hurley, a forger, and
Robert J. Skiba, a robber. Hurley and Skiba
were recaptured in a few days and re-
turned to prison, but Dick Nowlen re-
mained at large—till he turned up shot to
death in the Mojave Desert a month later.

With the slain John Doe’s identity es-
tablished and confirmed by his fingerprints,
that of his companion in violent death was
quickly forthcoming. The sheriff received a
tip from a man who said he had read about
the dead brunette with the “SKIHI,” or
“SKEHE,” tattoo on her thigh, and he be-
lieved she was his brother’s former wife.

The tip proved a good one. The pony-
tailed Jane Doe was swiftly identified as
Patricia Hurley Skene, alias Pat Zeltman,
alias Pat Cole, alias Margaret Scott, the
27-year-old errant daughter of a respect-
able suburban El Sereno family. Patricia
was the sister of Ronald Hurley, Dick Now-
len’s escape mate. She was the ex-wife of
Wilford Skene, currently doing time in
Tehachapi.

Sad-faced little Pat Hurley Skene had an
impressive police record of her own. Con-
victed of forgery in 1955, she was put on
five years’ probation. In October, 1958, she
was arrested for narcotics possession and
sentenced to a year in the Los Angeles
County women’s facility at Terminal Island.
She was released on parole last July 22nd.

The Hurley family said they had last seen
Pat. when she visited her mother in the
hospital on August 17th, the day after her
escaped brother was recaptured in the
mountains. .

Inspector Oxnevad and Lieutenant Keene
visited Chino Institution for Men, inter-
viewed Ronald Hurley and other inmates,
and enlisted the aid of Warden E. J. Ober-
hauser in probing for a possible murder
motive in some prison feud. With the co-
operation of parole officers, they undertook
a check on all prisoners released since Au-
gust 9th, the date Nowlen and his pals es-
caped.

Then the spotlight swung once more to
the southwest Los Angeles area, with a tip
that Dick and Pat had been staying for a
week or more with another ex-convict,
Clifford Lee Red, and his girl friend San-
dra, who lived on Doty Avenue in suburban
Lennox, just off Hollywood Park. The house
was now vacant. Neighbors said the two

couples hadn’t been seen since Friday night,
September 4th.

Cliff Red, alias Carl Warner. a 30-year-
old convicted and paroled forger, was on
bond awaiting trial on a Los Angeles for-
gery charge. Sandra Kay Grounds, 22 and
reportedly pregnant, passed as his common-
law wife. She was known as Sandra Red.
It appeared that Dick Nowlen and Pat
Skene had set out with the Reds on Friday
night, the start of the Labor Day week end.
A pickup order was issued for the Red cou-
ple, believed to be traveling in Sandra's
gray 1949 two-door Ford sedan.

The picture was complicated, however,
when a Colton man said he had seen a man
and woman lying on the ground at the
murder spot early Sunday morning, Sep-
tember 6th. He got out of his car, saw the
pair sprawled on the ridge of black road-
mix. Assuming they were sleeping, he
drove away.

The new witness was positive about the
time, which he said was about 8 a.M. Sun-
day. He also recalled the pop bottles stand-
ing in the sand. Taken out to the desert by
detectives, he led them to the exact spot.

This new information, placing the bodies
at the scene at least 24 hours earlier, shed
doubt on the identification by the Adelanto
grocer.

A stakeout was maintained at the Doty
Avenue house in Lennox, the last place
Dick and Pat were known to have been.

George Smiley’s story to the Hawthorne
police had sounded straightforward. No
one had yet interviewed the other couple
who shared the apartment with the
Smileys, a young carpenter named Ed
Hinds and his wife. A routine check of the
sheriff’s files now turned up the record of a
34-year-old construction worker named Ed-
win L. Hinds, who had been arrested a
number of times for burglary.

Detectives interviewed the Smileys again
and, when Ed Hinds returned home with
his girl friend after midnight Friday night,
Chemist Longhetti and Los Angeles Homi-
cide Sergeant Bill Eisen were waiting for
him. Hinds, a good-looking, dark-haired 6-
footer, readily admitted his identity and
criminal record. He denied knowing Dick
Nowlen, Pat Skene, or the Red couple. But
when the officers asked him to turn out the
contents of his pockets, they had another
answer. Ed Hinds carried a scribbled loose-
leaf pocket notebook. The blood-spattered
page found under Dick Nowlen’s body fitted
it exactly, the ruled paper was the same.

“Maybe I wrote that address.” Hinds
shrugged. “I give my address to lots of peo-
ple. I wrote it down for a fellow I met ina
bar, a week or so ago. I invited him to drop
over here for a drink. I don’t remember
his name. I don’t have anything to hide. I
don’t know how my address came to be on
that murdered fellow.”

The Smiley couple said they and other
friends could vouch for the fact that Hinds
had been in their company constantly over

the long holiday, except for a few hours’

Saturday afternoon. Nevertheless, the de-

tectives took Hinds into custody for inves- :

tigation. Early Saturday he was taken to
San Bernardino and booked on suspicion of
murder. The homicide officers took Hinds
over to Adelanto, where the grocer looked
him over, but couldn’t identify him.

“I’m convinced Hinds knows more than
he’s telling,” Lieutenant Keene told Sheriff
Frank Bland. “He may not be one of the
actual killers, but Hinds was in Chino at
the same time as Nowlen. He claims he
doesn’t know him. But it’s too much of a
coincidence that Nowlen would have been
carrying his address, just by accident.”

The Smiley couple, who had no police
records, was quickly cleared of any suspi-
cion. Inquiries satisfied the detectives that
Hinds had been in and around Hawthorne
over the entire week end, and could not be

one of the desert ki!
check of the names |
eared notebook prov«
inds’ friends were ex
Ihe was forbidden to «
of his parole. A cou:
pals tipped the office:
quainted with Dick N
He was understood 1:
house the Friday nigh
The spotlight cente
close buddies, Gordon
police record. He !
s Los Angeles job ”
hadn’t been seen s:
aught up with him S:

Hewlett admitted the

had been at Cliff Red
along with Dick No:

everal other people.
investigation of mu:
tested his innocence.

Confronted with He
Hinds agreed to tell
said his original retic

ny connection with
but simply to fear of ¢
his parole officer. Hi
met Dick Nowlen an:
Doty Avenue house, |
had written his add
man he met there, a:
Carolina.

From the statement
lett, and tips from ot
ture emerged of a
night at Cliff Red’s
dozen small-time ex

eir girl friends. T:
ently were Red and N

cussed grandiose }
floating check-forge:
holdup network.

None of those que
mowing anything ab

ordon Hewlett’s al

yone could say wa:
vere with the Reds 1<

e session broke up.

as broadcast for pic
dra Red on suspicion

The Adelanto groc«
out mugshots of any «

the two “crumbs”
day, September 14th,

ictorville found that
nd Patricia Hurley :
by a person or perso!

Gordon Hewlett w:
ody, but Edwin Hind

al witness and for i)
iolation. The hunt
Sandra Red and the «
ira were understood
lor Mexico, right afte:
had just received a
ritten from Ciudad (
an state of Sonora.

A Spanish-speakin
the police chief of th:
orted back that t!
touple was indeed th:

The fact that Cliff
the last persons kno\
the slain pair, and
double murder, con:
that they were the kil

Lowell E. Lathrop, a
on September 15th.
plaints charging Cliff
dra Kay Grounds w
Oxnevad and Lieute:
son, armed with war:
off for Sonora.

When the San Be
ived in Ciudad Ot
17th, the local chief t«
into custody at their

en found that San
ot Cliff Red, but his

arner. The pregnan


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Sandra Grounds had nothing to say about
her new husband’s story. The little ex-con
obligingly reenacted the shooting for the
crime lab cameras, and the homicide detec-
tives believed he was telling the truth. Ar-
raigned in Victorville justice court on the
joint murder charge on September 22nd,
the newlyweds were held without bail for
preliminary hearing October 5th. Ed Hinds
remained in jail, held as a material witness
and possible parole violator.

The original murder charge still stood
‘against Cliff Red who, according to Gar-
ner’s confession, was an accessory after the
fact. Sheriff Bland wanted to clear up Red’s
part in the double slaying. Colorado officers
were alerted. On September 24th two de-
tectives spotted the wanted man on a
downtown street in Colorado Springs. He
tried to run away, but was quickly caught.
He gave up without resistance, though he
was armed with a loaded .32. Red waived
extradition, and was flown back to San
Bernardino.

On October 6th District Attorney Lathrop
took the case before, a special session of
the county grand jury. The jury indicted
both Lawrence Garner and Sandra Grounds
for murder. This action bypassed the pre-
liminary hearing and brought them directly
into superior court for trial. Cliff! Red was
not indicted, but he was still held on the
original murder charge, for a preliminary
hearing on October 13th. The district at-

torney sald Red denied any part in the
slayings, but admitted accompanying the
indicted pair on their flight to Mexico after
the murders.

In San Bernardino, on October 13th, the
murder complaint against Clifford Red was
dismissed on motion of the district attorney,
who said the evidence, after full investiga-
tion, does not warrant prosecution. Red is
now awaiting trial in Los Angeles on the
check-forgery charge.

There still are loose ends to be wrapped
up, and the San Bernardino County officers
are not convinced that the full story of the
double slaying, with all-its weird ramifica-
tions in underworld sotiety, has been told.
But while the relative degree of guilt or
innocence of the accused remains to be de-
termined in court, the officers are satisfied
the grim Mojave has given up its secret.
Not only has the double killing been solved,
but the “homicide probe has effectively
broken up a crime ring. o¢o¢

Eprtor’s Norte:

The names, Helen and Ted Archer,
George Smiley, Hank Williams and Gor-
don Hewlett, as used in the foregoing
story, are not the real names of the per-
sons concerned. These persons have been
given fictitious names to protect their
identities.

Lynn Kauffman—
Girl Overboard

(Continued from page 13)

provided the wild Prohibition era with one
of its most sensational mysteries. When
found Starr was wearing only a girdle,
stockings, and a thin, print dress. Her
garters had been ripped from the girdle.
Her brassiere, her panties, shoes, hat and
her expensive, fur-collared coat were all
missing.

It was obvious that she had drowned.
Many who knew her thought that she had
killed herself. The autopsy demonstrated
that Starr Faithfull had, indeed, died of
drowning. But it also showed that quan-
tities of sand had lodged in her windpipe
and lungs, she had been badly beaten, and
there was a knife slash on one of her arms.
One theory at the time held that she had
been thrown overboard from one of the
overnight boats plying between Boston
and New York.

In spite of the fact that every police de-
partment in New York and Long Island
had striven to track down the killer of
Starr Faithfull, he had never been caught.
Was the murderer of Lynn Kauffman to be
equally lucky?

By Wednesday his chances seemed good.
Lynn’s trunk had been examined and Cap-
tain Fallon announced that in it he had
found certain letters which cast some light
on the dead girl’s romantic activities. How-
ever, he did not disclose who had written
those letters. Under questioning from the
press, he admitted that they were not the
letters of Dr. Spector or anyone who had
thus far been involved in the case.

Fallon returned to Boston where he con-
ferred with Dr. Luongo. The coroner re-
mained convinced that Lynn Kauffman
was a murder victim. He announced his
intention of holding an inquest within the
next few days.

On Friday an angle was developed which

made the mystery even more baffling.

Captain James J. Crowley, veteran Boston
Harbor master, announced that he was
sure that the girl had been in the water
by 7:05, the time at which the second
steward had sworn he had talked to her.

Crowley based this opinion on a scientific
calculation made after consultation with
experts of the Coast Guard and the United
States Geodetic Survey.. These experts,
taking into consideration the tides, winds,
and currents, estimated that Lynn Kauff-
man had gone overboard at 6:54 p.m. If
the body had entered the water at that
time, it figured to have washed up at the
exact spot on Spectacle Island where it
was found by the tugboat captain.

By this time Fallon had discarded the
suicide theory. He still considered it a
possibility, but he felt that in the light of
all the evidence, murder was far more
likely. On ‘Tuesday, September 29th,
Fallon again traveled to New York. With
him were Boston Detectives Edward
Sherry and Bernard Hurley, They were
met by Chief Inspector John J. Bradt Jr.,
in charge of west division homicide of
Brooklyn, Lieutenant Charles Kaufman,
and Detectives Walter Murray and An-
thony Amatucci, all of whom had worked
on the case since the docking of the
Utrecht.

The New York officers who had stuck
close to the case while Fallon was in Boston
had come up with a clue. One of the In-
donesian crew members had furnished
them with an item of information which
might prove significant. This fact, how-
ever, was not given to the press immedi-
ately. The detectives did not want any
suspect to realize in advance that he was
one.

“Well,” said Captain Fallon, after talk-
ing with the Brooklyn officers, “let’s try
another check on the whereabouts of
everyone at the time of the girl’s disap-
pearance. We can narrow the time down
now. It seems to be established that she
went overboard some time between 6:54
and, say, a quarter past seven.”

That night the officers again questioned
the crew members. Those whose stories
checked with other evidence were dis-
missed. At midnight the detectives were
still talking to four men, ship’s officers.

By 2. o'clock
of the officers “:
An hour later :
the detectives si
tioning their fi
with him for s
hours. At noon <
to jail. Captain
press that the r
death was solv:
pared to charg:
Willem Van Ri:

Van Rie, 30
some, was the
found in Lynn’
dent of Revy,
married recen'
According to
certain  startli
night-long int:

The New Y:
the Indonesia:
had it that Ve
affair with Ly)

Captain Fallo:

story that he

at the time of
found certair
said.

First, Van

6 to 8 o’cloc!

he had told F

sage at the t

A check wit

that message

sent.
According
finally had |

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——

one of the desert killers. Nevertheless, a
check of the names in the suspect’s dog-
eared notebook proved that a number of
Hinds’ friends were ex-convicts, with whom
he was forbidden to associate under terms
of his parole. A couple of his frightened
pals tipped the officers that Hinds was ac-
quainted with Dick Nowlen and Cliff Red.
He was understood to have visited Cliff’s
house the Friday night before the murders.

The spotlight centered on one of Hinds’
yclose buddies, Gordon Hewlett, a man with
a police record. He had not shown up on
his Los Angeles job Tuesday morning and
hadn’t been seen since. The detectives
‘caught up with him Sunday morning. When
Hewlett admitted that both he and Hinds
had been at Cliff Red’s house Friday night,
along with Dick Nowlen, Pat Skene and
several other people, he too was booked for
investigation of murder, though he pro-
tested his innocence.

Confronted with Hewlett’s admissions, Ed
Hinds agreed to tell the whole truth. He
said his original reticence was due, not to
any connection with the double murder,
but simply to fear of getting in trouble with
his parole officer. Hinds admitted he had
met Dick Nowlen and Patty Skene at the
Doty Avenue house, but he maintained he
had written his address for still another
man he met there, an ex-con from North
Carolina.

From the statements of Hinds and Hew-
lett, and tips from other persons, the pic-
ture emerged of a meeting held Friday
night at Cliff Red’s home, attended by a
dozen small-time ex-cons, parolees, and
their girl friends. The organizers appar-
ently were Red and Nowlen. The group had
discussed grandiose plans for setting up a
floating check-forgery operation and a
holdup network.

None of those questioned would admit
knowing anything about the murder, and
Gordon Hewlett’s alibi checked out. All
anyone could say was that Dick and Patty
were with the Reds late Friday night when
the session broke up. An all-points bulletin
was broadcast for pickup of Cliff and San-
dra Red on suspicion of murder.

The Adelanto grocer was unable to pick
out mugshots of any of the several suspects
as the two “crumbs” he had seen. On Mon-
day, September 14th, a coroner’s inquest in
Victorville found that Richard Lee Nowlen
and Patricia Hurley Skene had been slain
by a person or persons unknown.

Gordon Hewlett was released from cus-
tody, but Edwin Hinds was held as a mate-
rial witness and for investigation of parole
violation. The hunt went on for Cliff and
Sandra Red and the others. Cliff and San-
dra were understood to have left hastily
for Mexico, right after Labor Day. A friend
had just received a letter from Sandra,
written from Ciudad Obregon, in the Mexi-
can state of Sonora.

A Spanish-speaking deputy telephoned
the police chief of the Mexican city. He re-
ported back that the hunted American
couple was indeed there, staying at a hotel.

The fact that Cliff and Sandra Red were
the last persons known to have been with
the slain pair, and their flight after the
double murder, convinced Sheriff Bland
that they were the killers. District Attorney
Lowell E. Lathrop, at the sheriff’s request
on September 15th, issued formal com-
plaints charging Clifford Lee Red and San-
dra Kay Grounds with murder. Inspector
Oxnevad and Lieutenant Wayne Mathew-
son, armed with warrants for the pair, took
off for Sonora.

When the San Bernardino officials ar-
rived in Ciudad Obregon on September
17th, the local chief took the startled couple
into custody at their request. The sheriff’s
men found that Sandra’s companion was
not Cliff Red, but his pal Lawrence “Chris”
Garner. The pregnant young brunette and

the 30-year-old ex-con, a slight, thin little
man with black hair and black beady eyes,
told their captors that Cliff and Sandra had
split up after all three had come to Mexico
together. Cliff had returned to the United
States. Sandra and Chris had been married
by a Mexican official on September 15th.

The newlyweds refused to discuss the
desert murders. The California officers
were aware that a wife cannot be forced to
testify against her husband. The Mexican
police chief had learned that Garner had
sold a .45 automatic and Inspector Oxnevad
recovered it. He elicited Chris Garner’s last
address in San Bernardino and telephoned
Sheriff Bland. When deputies went to the
little ex-con’s room, they found Pat Skene’s
purse and shoes and Dick Nowlen’s wallet
and jacket. The district attorney then is-
sued a third complaint, charging Chris Gar-
ner with murder, jointly with the others.

Flown back to San Bernardino, Sandra
Grounds Garner soon broke down under
questioning. Sheriff’s officers reported that
she said Cliff Red had shot Dick Nowlen
and Pat Skene in an argument, and that
she and Chris Garner were merely wit-
nesses. According to her story, Dick and
Patty had decided to be married in Las
Vegas, and all five had started out for the
Nevada city in Sandra’s gray Ford, plan-
ning to finance the honeymoon with hold-
ups. They stopped in the desert for target
practice and Cliff got into some sort of ar-
g:ument with Dick, Sandra said. He shot the
couple before she and Chris knew what
was happening.

Sandra crossed herself up, however, on
details of the double murder. Under fur-
ther grilling by Inspector Oxnevad, Lieu-
tenant Keene, and other investigators, Chris
Garner confessed that he had done the
shooting. Red hadn’t even been a member
of the wedding party. Garner was the best
man, who switched his role to killer of the
bride and groom-to-be.

According to the little ex-con’s story, the
slayings took place at 6:30 a.m. Sunday,
September 6th—which meant that the Ade-
lanto grocer had been mistaken in his iden-
tification of the quartet he saw Monday.

As Garner told it, he and Sandra set out
for Las Vegas with Dick and Pat in the
small hours of Sunday morning, after at-
tending a Saturday night party in Los An-
geles. Chris was to stand up for Dick at the
wedding, and to help ina series of holdups
in the Nevada desert fun capital. But Chris
began to get cold feet, and when they
stopped to eat at El Monte, he told Dick he
wanted to back out of the holdups. Accord-
ing to Chris, Dick then threatened harm to
Garner’s family if he didn’t go through
with it.

“J didn’t like this Nowlen, anyway,” Chris
explained. “When I told him to count me
out of the heist jobs, and he threatened to
hurt my family, I made up my mind to kill
him. When we got up to the desert, I looked
around for a good spot. Dick had the gun,
his .45. I’ve never owned a gun. So I had to
get it away from him. We stopped to stretch
our legs and I told him T’d like to try some
target shooting with the .45. We went off a
little way and we both shot at some soft
drink bottles we’d bought. The girls stayed
in the car.

“T suddenly turned around and shot Now-
len in the groin. He fell down. He begged
for mercy. I shot him in the head, and that
finished him. I went back to the car and
told Pat there’d been an accident and that
Y’d shot Dick.

“She jumped out of the car and ran to
where he lay. She took his head in her lap
and held him in her arms. She cried, ‘Baby!
Baby,’ and she kept cursing me. So I shot
her. The one shot killed her. Then Sandra
and I started away in the car. We talked it
over and then we went back and took the
identification off the bodies.”

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The night Samuel Garrett proposed, Amiel Bricknell ordered
him out of his house. “You'll never become my son-in-law,
he roared. “You're just more of the Forty-Niner trash!

Garrett returned to his room at the Golden Eagle Hotel,
and was followed by Bricknell. —

“Leave my daughter alone and never see her again,’ the
father demanded. He threw some ape] on the bed. “That

to buy you off,” he said. <a
ay sn hn hace frustrated and shocked at the implica-
tions of the last remark, Garrett reached for a pistol he kept
under his pillow and fired at Bricknell, who died promptly
the wound.
apr vows to hang, Garrett was taken aboard the dreaded
La Grange to await the execution date. The vessel was then
in command of an evil-tempered Scotsman who was much too
handy with a whip. He had been the ship's boatswain’s mate,
and saw her built in Salem, Massachusetts. He had survived
her first wreck at Panama when her cargo of kegs of pine tar,
tallow, and grain had to be dumped to get her afloat. In Sa-
cramento, the Scotsman had supervised the carpenters in con-

All illus. furnished by author.

or

A prisoner taken from prison brig Euphemia is hung
ron scaffold at Long Wharf, San Francisco, (1850's).

12

verting the ship into a prison brig.

The boatswain’'s mate knew how to
do the job. He had sailed on many Brit-
ish ships and seen the insides of England’s
dreaded prison hulls. The La Grange
became an almost exact copy.

he Samuel Garrett found himself
thrust into a cubicle far down in the
hold where there was no light except for
that which seeped through the slits of his
iron door from a whale oil lantern in the
narrow corridor.

The cubicle was so small that it was
impossible to stand upright. A pile of
straw served as a bed, and in one corner
was a slop bucket for body excrement and
urine; on the opposite side was a pail
which was almost as foul smelling as the
bucket, and this held food. ;

The diet aboard the la Grange was of
the poorest quality. Mostly porridge
made from renderings bought at the local
butcher shops on the wharf, plus a hunk
of bread. Feeding time was once a day at
4 p.m.

A few trusties aboard were allowed
the privilege of eating in the Galley,
but not until the regular crew had dined.
The trusties were permitted to eat scraps and leavings and
this kept them in reasonable physical shape, but not so for
men like Samuel Garrett. 3 ;

A few weeks of slop, and he lost considerable weight and
began to have a serious cough. There was nothing in the way
of human consideration for the incarcerated men. A request
for visitors was always denied. Even though Harriett Bricknell
pleaded with high authorities to allow her to see her lover,
the answer was always “No,”

The lawmen in Sacramento were loathe to allow any poten-
tial critical and articulate persons to see the actual condi-
tions aboard the La Grange, which now featured a massive
square superdeck rising two stories, this last having been built
to accommodate more cribs and added prisoners.

Once a week prisuners were allowed to come to the wash-
house aboard ship and bathe as best they could. None could
get rid of the swarms of body lice which had left their skins
mottled and red from bites and infection. Some of the men dis-
played missing toes, caused by the nibbling of giant rats which
overran the ship and often fought the weaker prisoners in the

am

Once a week men lined up at trough containing sea water
and lye-strong soap to help kill swarming lice.
THE WEST

cells for the food when the slop was ser-
ved. The rats frequently ate the slop
before the prisoner could muster the
strength to keep them from jumping into
the food pails.

Whippings were administered nearly
every day for any infraction of a rule.
A demand for more food called for a
whipping. A complaint about the stench
and wetness of the below water-line cub-
icles was also motivation for a beating.
The boatswain aboard kept his leather
cat o’ nine tails in constant use and it
tore flesh aplenty.

Hangings aboard were forbidden,
especially after one prisoner had been
hung and the jerk of the rope had torn
his head off, causing even some staunch
lawmen to faint.

Thus, on that bright June summer day,
Samuel Garrett was brought from the
darkness up into the sunshine which
blinded him, and he heard someone tell
him to prepare to die.

There was a waft of perfume, and a hE:
soft trembling voice at his side, and then Xe wien al
a kiss on his cheeks. On his day of death, :
his betrothed has received permission ae oe
to come aboard the La Grange with a
minister, who joined the couple in marriage, but there was no
honeymoon for Harriet Bricknell. She fainted on deck as her
husband was led away to the hanging square at Sutter's Fort
in Sacramento.

Before noon, Samuel Garrett was dead, but then the City of
Sacramento heard even more disturbing news. Harriet Brick-
nell was dead aboard the La Grange! She had taken poison
before boarding and it had taken effect while her husband
swung from the gallows.

There was an outcry among Californians to sink the La
Grange and wipe away the blot of misery on the sacramento
River, but the lawmen held fast. Prison ships were the only
means of security for imprisonment of hardened criminals.

In the winter of 1861, Sacramento was visited by a severe
storm and flood which caused heavy waves to pound vessels
in the river's harbor. The La Grange, weakened from neglect
in that her hull had not been properly caulked year after year,
sprang a leak and showed signs of breaking up.

Her prisoners were hurriedly taken off the vessel in chain
gang fashion, but before the last man could be removed the

i eas att ee .: :

Lucky trustee eats crew’s leftovers; other prisoners ate

nauseous gruel they referred to as slop.

THE WEST

Notorious prison brig LA GRANGE as it looked in 1851
when docked in river. Two bldgs. in background are on dock.

ht foreground; Apollo Saloon was once hell-ship of same name.

vessel suddenly turned on her side and broke apart, sinking
into 30 feet of water. The public actually cheered when the
vessel sank forever from sight. It was if a blight had been lifted
from the town of Sacramento.

ln San Francisco, there were numerous prison brigs in use at
the time. The best known was the Euphemia, also a former
grain ship which had been abandoned by her crew and was
purchased by California in 1851 to serve as a general prison
for hardened criminals.

Two lawmen, James Estill and M. Vallejo, were appointed to
be in command of the Euphemia, which had been painted
black. The vessel was placed in San Francisco Bay just off
Angel Island, and quickly filled with prisoners. Like the La
Grange, she held mostly Forty-niners who were down on their
luck and had robbed or stolen to get food.

A sentence aboard the Euphemia or any of the other num-
erous prison brigs in San Francisco Bay was like being con-
demned to slow death. Conditions weren't any better than had
existed on the La Grange, (Continued on page 59)

; Pt
. incl

13


mug resting securely by his side, Gus had
passed out cold...

Although he expected his own cowboys
to do their drinking elsewhere, he extend-
ed his hospitality to 40 round-up boys
from the Smoky River who were camping
on Dry Creek, watching their herds. It
wasn't too long until the Smoky River
boys said, “To hell with the cattle...!”
and got gloriously inebriated.

One evening Mudge stepped out to
hear the Bazine band tootling along in
their wagon on the way home from a
political rally at Jetmore. He went to
the bunkhouse and sent one of the hands
after them, inviting them to the ranch
house. He entertained them royally when
they arrived.

For some years, the creek-bed below
the main ranchhouse was full of whiskey
bottles and beer kegs. While the play-
boy rancher drank like a lush, he still
was astute enough to take care of his
health, sometimes living for several days
on buttermilk after one of his wild ca-
rousals.

The wildest of the reveling was when
Mudge was initiating easterners, who
were visiting the ranch for the first time,
to the brotherhood of the wild and woolly
West. Heavy drinking and gunplay were
always an important part of the reckless
rites, and the employees would be awak-
ened at all hours of the night by loud
shots coming from the ranchhouse, where
some poor dude was learning the ways of
the West. The numerous bullet holes in
the ceilings, walls, and the heavy oak
doors gave visual proof for many years
afterwards of the wildness of these ini-
tiations.

Sig as a boy in the old Mudge Ranch
house, C. W. Macy stated that his mother
was much distressed by the bullet holes
in the doors. A person could run his
finger through many of them, they were
so large, (which certainly made them
undesirable in bedroom doors). Finally,
he recalled, his mother bought an assort-
ment of corks and rammed them into
the holes.

The tenderfoot was gotten almost
“blind” drunk, then the Western frater-
nity brothers would shoot at his feet
to make him dance or shoot over his
head, and then daub chicken blood on
him, making him think he was shot. Some-
times if, during all the shooting and drink-
ing, a dude passed out on them, then he
would be carried into the “dead room”
and laid out on the bed, liberally doused
with the blood, his arms folded across
his chest and left in that awesome room
with a burning candle for light. It doesn’t
take much imagination to visualize his
awakening!

If he was brave enough to join in the
shooting, then another drunk was daubed
with blood and the dude made to believe
that he had shot him. During one up-
roarious ceremony on a cold, blizzardly

58

night, the victim escaped from his re-
lentless tormentors through an outside
door. The next morning when the fire-
water began to wear off and Mudge re-
alized that one of his guests were miss-
ing he became frantic, and started all
his cowboys on an all-out search. Had
the poor dude perished somewhere on the
snow-blanketed prairie? Well, not quite.
Scared as hell the man had run into the
“dead room,” rolled under the bed and
passed out for the night.

However, outside of being scared
silly, no one was ever wounded in all
this shooting melee. Mudge was an excel-
lent marksman and demonstrated his
shooting prowess in odd ways. One day
when he was trying to buy a certain piece
of land from a woman the conversation
became difficult because of the loud noise
that only a flock of guineas could make.
After so much of this racket Mudge be-
came irritated and pulled his revolver,
shooting the fowls one at a time. The
woman almost climbed the side of her
soddy, she was so mad.

“Mister Mudge, I wouldn't have taken a
dollar apiece for those birds.” she pro-
tested in an admonishing tone.

Mudge ignored her, counted the guin-
eas and wrote her a check...then con-
tinued the discussion over her land. How-
ever, there was one occasion when his
aim wasn’t so straight. It happened one
night when he was roughing it with his
cow hands on a round-up, and he was
rolled up in his bed-roll on the prairie.
As the air began to chill towards morning,
Mudge acquired a wriggling bed com-
panion. Giving forth something that
resembled a Kiowa war cry, Mudge leap-
ed wildly from the bed roll and grabbed
his six-gun...emptying it and riddling
his expensive Navaho blankets before
killing the rattlesnake.

The Boston cowboy spread his marks
around. Almost every saloon, gaming
alley and hotel displayed bullet scratches
or boasted damages covered by the
Mudge check. If the window in the hotel
didn’t open easily, Harry Mudge kicked
it out. There are a number of legends
about his destructive way with inferior
pianos when in his cups. One such incident
took place in the Long Branch saloon in
Dodge City, where the manager kept
insisting Mudge play for the patrons.
Impatient with the badgering, he finally
jumped to his feet and proceeded to
stomp on the piano.

Again, he wrote out a check and in-
formed the proprietor, “Get a good piano,
sir, if you want me to play.”

No matter how high the price was set
to evade such an arrangement, Mudge
liked to rent a saloon for the night and
entertain his friends without the manage-
ment being around. If the stock of liquor
was not consumed by the guests, the
bottles and their contents decorated the
floor. In Kinsley one night, when the

Mudge gay dogs had departed from the
Jake Smith saloon, Jake decided he wanted
no more of them, and quickly locked up
his place and went home. But the cel-
ebrants were not through; they came
back, broke down the door and helped
themselves. As usual, Mudge paid the
toll.

Most of the time Mudge kept his head
even when in his cups. Gus Yesogee-was
paid a visit by his brother, Tom, and when
it came time for him to catch the east-
bound train from Kinsley, Mudge drove
him to town. Since it would be quite some
time until the train arrived, they made
their way to a saloon and proceeded to
drink until they became quarrelsome
with one another. Crossing the street
during the height of their argument,
Mudge proceeded to uncork one that
laid Tom down in the street. It was time
for his train, but Tom stubbornly refused
to get up. Therefore, Mudged grabbed up
a wheelbarrow that he had spotted and
loaded Tom Yesogee into it, pushing him
all the way to the depot. And Tom caught
his train.

ln those days, the great scourge of the
plains was the prairie fire which laid
waste to stock grass, crops, and even
animals. Now, no matter how far away the
fire, when Mudge caught sight of the bil-
lowing smoke on the horizon he would
order his men to drop whatever they were
doing and fight the encroaching fire. It
made no difference whether his own
ranch was in its path or not. Pandemo-
nium soon broke forth on the ranch as
the cow hands went running around
gathering their fire-fighting equipment—
plows, shovels, sacks, and barrels.

The teams were hitched to the wagons
in double-quick time. Old whiskey barrels
were thrown in and loaded to the top with
water, and suddenly the driver would yell
“Ready.” Without waiting, they would
take off while the rest of the hands were
scurrying over the sides of the wagon
boxes. Meanwhile, the advance guard,
Mudge included, would already be on its
way to the flare-up on horseback.

It was a wild ride in the lurching water
wagons as they lumbered over the prairie
disregarding buffalo wallows, washouts
or prairie dog holes. The joltings slopped
the precious water over the yelling, joking
men, but there was always enough to wet
sacks to beat out the creeping flames.
Many a homestead was saved by Mudge
and his jolly fire-fighters.

The time came when the ever-ready
check book began to run short, and
Mudge began giving mortgages on his
land and stock. Then, in 1885, the entire
ranch property passed into the hands of
a receiver, A. D. Cronk of Kinsley. It
was said that Mudge had overdrawn his
allowance for three or four years ahead,
and could raise no more money.

He remained on his spread while its
appointments were being liquidated.

THE WEST

In fact, it was during this time that the
following appeared in the July 20, 1885,
issue of the Jetmore Reveille: “A dis-
tinguished party consisting of Henry
Mudge, Gross Longendyke, Franklin
Rubere and Lord Rawliston, an English-
man, have gone on a buffalo hunt. They
are fully equipped for the expedition,
and will go as far as the Colorado line
and expect to be gone about two weeks.”

a were many other large ranches
that went into receivership, as the times
were rough on the cattle industry. But
even when he knew his money was getting
short, Mudge continued to spend it as if
the stuff was still coming out of a magic
fountain ...and now, it was all over.

Henry Mudge was very debonair about
the failure of his ranching venture and
continued to be as interesting as ever to
the people who made his acquaintance
during this period.

There were a great many people who
came on the day of the final sale. A lot
of them were young people who were
fascinated by stories they had heard about
this New Englander. The extravagant
luxuries were over, so the servants were
gone. But Mudge still insisted that his
new friends stay for lunch and did the
fixing and serving himself.

It wasn’t much—watermelon, toast
and tea; however, their host served it
with all the urbane charm and _ hospi-
tality of a royal prince. In spite of its
sparseness, his guests never forgot that
meal or enjoyed one more.

After this dainty lunch, some of the
younger set in the group wanted to play
tennis, but had never seen a game. De-
spite the intense heat, Mudge endeavored
to instruct them as long as they chose to
prance around. When finally driven
indoors by the boiling sun, Mudge gra-
ciously furnished them with hand fans.

At the foreclosing of the mortgages on
the ranch, there were many of the em-
ployees who had wages coming to them.
However, they never felt cheated, for
they received good treatment and top
salaries while the business was solvent.

A Mrs. Hann, who had always launder-
ed the fine linen, was also left with an
unpaid balance. Since Mudge paid her
at the rate of one dollar per dozen, there

was $750 still coming to her. He asked
what she would take in settlement of the
debt, and after thinking awhile, she men-
tioned a certain quarter of land.

Sometime after this, Mudge sent her
the deed. Hanston, Kansas, was partially
laid out on this “laundry” quarter in 1886.

The ranching experiment might be past
history, but the adventurous spirit and
reckless gaiety remained a part of the
Mudge personality.

After returning to the East, Mudge
became private secretary to General
Q. A. Gilmore, chief engineer of con-
struction of the Brooklyn Elevated Rail-
road. Then in 1888, his overpowering
wanderlust took him to Australia on a

-Sailing ship. He did a great deal of private
exploring over Australia, including safaris
into the bush. He also journeyed to Bor-
neo, Java, China and Japan.

“Just for the sport of it,” he went to
Norfolk Island in the South Pacific and
signed on a whaling ship as an oarsman.
When a whale was spotted the long boats
were lowered and the crew of oarsmen
took it over, chasing after the monster
of the deep until the men in the bow could
harpoon it. This was a grueling task and
only the brawny were hired for oarsmen.
He stayed at this for three months, then
returned to America.

In the fall of 1892 he went to the Rocky
Mountains in Montana, near the Cana-
dian line, shooting and making geological
surveys until the following spring.

On August 3, 1898, he was married to
Marguerite (de Wolf) Allen, great-grand-
daughter of James de Wolf, United States
Senator from Rhode Island, and lived
thenceforth until his death in Bristol,
R. I. There was one daughter, Estelle,
born August 18, 1901.

For some reason, his middle name was
changed in February, 1899, from Sanford
to Holbrook, by an act of the Rhode
Island legislature.

This captivating idiosyncratic man
who constantly strove to prove his mus-
cular strength and endurance while rov-
ing in search of adventure in strange
places, passed away when hardly past
the prime of his life. The heart of Henry
Holbrook Mudge was stilled on January
6, 1908. *

ISLANDS OF HELL
(Continued from page 13)

except that in San Francisco prisoners
were sentenced to perpetual hard labor.

“Don't let them idle,” a high justice
ordered the wardens of these prison brigs.
“Keep the men at hard labor whenever
they are given a deck break or allowed
to leave their cells.”

’ THE WEST

Most of the prisoners gladly agreed to
make brick from clay and straw brought
aboard, while others fashioned wooden
tools—all done for the privilege of leaving
cramped cells for an hour or so on deck.
Even when the Bay was seeped in obscur-
ing cold fog, the prisoners preferred
coming on deck, to shiver there from the
sharp wind. Anything was better than lay-
ing in dank cubicles fighting the rats,
the roaches and the hordes of lice.

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Some of the other vessels which were
used as prison brigs and became floating
islands of hell were the Peruvian ship,
the ‘Joven Guipuzcoana”, which came
up the Pacific Coast carrying passengers
and cargo, and even went up the Sac-
ramento River to act as a temporary
prison before the La Grange was being
put into commission for the same pur-
pose.

There was also the Roger Williams,
the Strafford, and the Apollo. In later
years, the Apollo was anchored at a San
Francisco dock and became a saloon.
During the 1850's, the city of San Fran-
cisco found itself famous when whales
were discovered in the Pacific, and whal-
ing stations were opened st San Fran-
cisco, Oakland, and Sausalito, across
the Golden Gate. When the whaling
industry collapsed because of a greedy
overkill of these massive mammals, the
San Francisco harbor was glutted with
useless whaling ships—but not for long.

Like the Euphemia, which at first con-
tained 35 prisoners, many of the whalers
were leased as prison brigs and were kept
anywhere from a few months to a couple
of years. Any prisoner who was sentenced
to spend time aboard a whaler was much
more fortunate than those prisoners kept
on the Euphemia or Sacramento's La
Grange. The whaler ships had few
changes made aboard, and prisoners were
allowed to roam the deck under the
watchful eyes of guards. They also slept
in bunks and their quarters were reason-
ably roomy, and there were fewer rats to
fight.

Aboard the Euphemia, conditions were
much more desperate. Because too many
prisoners were losing toes and even
fingers to daring rat packs, a number of
large hungry alley cats were placed a-
board to control the rats. The effort was
tragic for the cats.

Cornered by rats as large or larger than
themselves, the cats were either torn to
pieces or jumped overboard to drown in

the cold Bay. Frequently the rats, who
were excellent swimmers, leapt over-
board after the cats, and would attack
the helpless felines in the water.

One bit of miserable diversification
the prisoners aboard had was betting
among themselves how long a particular
batch of terrorized cats would last against
rodent marauders. Death usually came
the first night the cats were aboard.

By 1858, there was a public clamor to
rid San Francisco Bay of its ugly and
sordid prison brigs. Too many deaths had
occurred aboard these vessels, and there
was more than one story of brutal assaults
by trustees and even guards against help-
less prisoners.

One young man of 18, who was impris-
oned aboard the Euphemia for attacking
a high ranking Vigilante, had been found
mysteriously floating in the Bay with his
genitals torn from his body. The grue-
some discovery was attributed to attempt-
ed escape and suicide and an attack in
the water by flesh-hungry rats, but many
didn’t buy this explanation.

Later, an investigation of the Euphemia
and other vessels showed some horrifying
situations. Hardened criminals were
mixed with young men, all of whom had
to sleep on straw covered benches when
the cubicles or cells were filled to ca-
pacity. Vile crimes against the younger
prisoners were thus a common occur-
rence. Much protest was made when a
boy of 15 was sentenced to hard labor on
the Euphemia and was found later badly
used by a crazed man of 36 years to whom
the boy had been chained as a permanent
companion.

Any attempt to escape was harshly met.
Although it was impossible to get to
shore from the Euphemia, many prisoners
tried, if only to end their lives rather
than keep on living in utter misery. Those
who tried to saw out of a cell or jump
overboard during an exercise period, or
hard-labor duty, were given the “iron

boot” to wear. Two segments of heavy
iron, hollowed to hold a leg from thigh
to toe, would be fashioned around one
limb.

Thereafter, the poor victim could only
drag his body about. It was impossible
to stand, walk or sit. Many who wore the
boot died from the complications it
created. Sometimes the boot was worn for
more than a week.

By 1861 lawmen became more humane,
and the end of the floating islands of hell
was in sight for California. Legislators
approved the construction of a large
prison at San Quentin, and already the
Federal Government had taken over
Alcatraz Island and had converted some
of its old Spanish dungeons to hold pris-
oners who had violated national law.
Meanwhile in Sacramento efforts were
under way to build a prison at Folsom, but
there the project was to become a reality
only after San Quentin could prove itself
a success as a security prison.

Meanwhile, Californians read news
snatches of occasional revolt within the
prison hulks maintained by Britian, some
of which had been established in Aus-
tralia and other territories. While no
revolt had occurred in any California
floating island of hell, there had been
instances of escape from British hulks,
and also the killing of guards, and the
burning of the vessel by revengeful pris-
oners.

The death-knell of the California prison
brigs was sounded in 1861 when a jurist
told the world that a prison ship was noth-
ing more than a foul pen, a breeding
place for disease, and a nursery for vio-
lent crime.

Nearly every Californian agreed.

Vessels like the Euphemia were either
sunk, burned or sold, and once again the
waterways of California showed only
clean, neat vessels, and the sordid prison
brigs no longer lingered to act as an eye-
sore and blemish on western history. @

GLITTERING GOLD
(Continued from page 39)

shape of beasts. Beyond Topira there is
still another country, the people whereof
wear on their bodies gold, emeralds, and
other precious stones, and are commonly
served in gold and silver, wherewith they
cover their houses, and the men wear
great chains of gold, well wrought, about
their necks, and are apparelled with
painted garments and have a great store
of wild kine.”

This fabulous area was to some degree
confirmed by the accounts of roving
Indians, who all concurred in represent-
ing the unknown region to the northward

60

as abounding in the precious golden
metal. Though based upon vague ac-
counts, it is still true this belief was
universally accepted by the Spaniards of
the day.

Filled with the dreams which these
stories created, Coronado set out early in
1540. After several days’ journey from
the Rio Grande the expedition came upon
one city which showed some promise of
what might lie beyond. Coronado states
that he “here found some quantity of gold
and silver, which those skilled in minerals
esteems to be very good. To this hour,” he
added with regret, “I cannot learn of this
people where they obtain it, and I see
they refuse to tell me the truth, imag-
ining that in a short time I will depart.

I hope to God,” concluded the devout
commander, “they shall no longer excuse
themselves.”

But the natives did succeed in excus-
ing themselves, inducing Coronado to
cross the mountains to the eastward,
into the Rio Grande valley. There he was
informed of another mysterious city,
called Quivera. Here, he was told, lived
a king whose name was Tartrata who had
a long beard, was hoary-headed and rich,
who worshipped a cross of gold, and the
image of a woman, which was the Queen
of Heaven.

Unhappily, the golden Quivera re-
treated as though it were a phantom,
and the impatient Spaniards traveled
onward. While at Tucayan, a short dist-

THE WEST

ance to the north of Cibola, about 150
miles west of Santa Fe, an account was
given to Coronado of a great river to
the northwest (The Colorado?) beyond
which were mines of gold and great treas-
ure (the Mother Lode country?). An
officer, Lopez de Gardenas, was immed-
iately dispatched with twelve men to
investigate the story. But again, success
was denied; he found the country barren
and uninviting.

After wandering long in the wilder-
ness, Coronado finally abandoned his
dream, for instead of cities glittering
with gold, he found people living in large
towns, cultivating the soil. Their simple
living was a great contrast to the splendor
which the conquerors had encountered
in Mexico and Peru. Instead of the long
sought Quivera, Coronado found only the
high and broad plains of the great buf-
falo range, traversed by roving Arapa-
hoes and decidedly hostile Pawnees. So,
turning southward, he returned to the
Rio Grande and speedily retraced his
steps to Mexico City.

Coronado’s unsuccessful expedition
had the effect of discouraging all similar
endeavors in the west for some time. It
was not until forty years later that Anton-
io de Espejo, stimulated by the accounts
of Fray Marcos, set out from the mines of
Santa Barbara in Mexico for the rich reg-
ions which the Franciscan monk had
assured him existed far to the northwest.
He went through the valley of the Rio
Grande, where he found numerous traces
of Mineral wealth, until he finally reached
the towns of the Cibola where he heard
repeated the tales told to Coronado
which were told to him in much greater
detail. There, he learned, “sixty days to
the northwest, was a very mighty lake,
upon the banks of which stood many
great and good towns, and that the inhab-
itants of the same had plenty of gold.”
Determined to find the lake de Espejo
set out, arriving in a few days at the towns
of the Moqui when, deserted by his fol-
lowers who found more pleasure in the
beautiful golden-haired, blue-eyed Moqui
women than in all the gold of the land,
he was obliged to give up the search.

Nevertheless, de Espejo learned much
of the mighty lake, “...the reports agree-
ing with what he had already learned
of the great abundance of gold in the
vicinity of this lake.” Before returning to
Mexico, he visited “certain very rich
mines” near the town of the Moqui, from
which he took with his own hands “ex-
ceeding rich metals holding great quanti-
ty of silver.” Whether this lake “sixty days
journey to the northwest of Cibola,” may
be the “mountain lake” which is located
in the Mother Lode country of California
has not been verified.

It is certainly interesting to note that
the accounts of the Indians in various
locations of the west make reference to
the same general area to the west, a spot
which— with regard to distance and direc-

THE WEST

tion—must coincide very closely, if not
exactly, with this lake, which is today
rumored to hold beneath its waters a city
destroyed by an earthquake.

Sir Francis Drake, in 1577, discovered
the Bay of San Francisco. Upon entering,
he took possession of the adiacent coun-
try in the name of the Virgin Queen,
calling it New Albion. Of his landing,
it was said “there is no part of the earth
wherein there is not some liklihood of
gold and silver.”

The next record of gold in California
appears in a Spanish letter written by
Richard Hakluyt in 1587 from Pueblo
de Los Angeles. This letter related that
the explorers “... visited and found those
islands or countrys to be very rich of gold
and silver mynes, and of very fayre Orien-
tal pearls...”

After this account, for more than two
hundred years the world was little con-
cerned with California’s golden wealth.
These explorations and discoveries took
place a hundred years before the Pilgrims
landed at Plymouth, before Hudson sail-
ed his ship up the river bearing his name,
and before John Smith struck terror into
the hearts of the Indians of Virginia.

Thus it was not until the early years
of the 19th century that we again find
rumors by travelers of Spanish gold in
California. But the Spanish Californians
jealously guarded their secret, knowing
well that should news of the great wealth
beneath the soil of California reach the
gold-hungry Americans, “...that they
would pour in by thousands and over-
run the country...” and would “soon
“obtain complete control...”

Juan B. Alverado, governor of Calif-
ornia from 1836 to 1842 believed that as
early as 1814 the Russians knew of gold in
the Sacramento Valley. Alverado also
stated that the Spanish Californians knew
of gold deposits on the slopes of the nor-
thern mountains, adding “...but the
Indians, who were more numerous than
we, prevented our exploring in that dir-
ection.”

A. California became more thickly
populated, the number of gold discover-
ies increased and some small mining
enterprises began in earnest, though these
operations caused no excitement because
of their minor size. In 1841 Francisco
Lopez discovered gold at a place called
San Francisquito, which was about 30
miles from the mission of San Fernando
(about 35 miles northeast of the present
city of Los Angeles). These diggings were
gold placers in the country drained by
the Santa Clara River. By 1845 there were
35 to 40 people employed at the diggings,
which yielded six to eight thousand dol-
lars a year until abandoned in the fall of
1846.

By June 1846, Thomas O. Larkin, Con-
sul of the United States in California,
reported “...that this country...is now

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' “Judy Ann thought her husband
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Lynn added: ‘Judy Ann was going to
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ing with her estranged husband was
scheduled that evening to discuss the
future of their fourteen-month-old
daughter. Judy Ann had asked for the
telephone number of Johnny Glynn’s
studio so the girls could reach her in
case anyone wanted her.

“You said the number was a phony?”

“Yeah. It turned out to be a garage
where they fix cars. They never heard
of anyone named Johnny Glynn.”

Betty cried out: “I just remembered
something! When he first came, he
asked me if he could do the posing in
our apartment because he didn’t have a
studio. But when he came to get Judy
Ann, he said he had a studio.”

The discrepancy in the story hadn’t
occurred to Betty at the time.

A lonely heart and a strip-teaser:

above, officers at Ruth Rita's grave

left, Shirley Ann and Ruth Rita;

The girls said the man had waited in
the apartment while Judy Ann gath- ~
ered the costume changes she would
need for the assignment. She had
packed a Bikini bathing suit, negligees
and three revealing skirt-and-blouse
outfits into a suitcase.

The detectives obtained a description
of Johnny Glynn. He had enormous..
ears, an egg-shaped head, a rather large
nose and a small chin. “He looked like
a creep,” Lynn added.

Where had he taken Judy Ann? What
had happened to her?

The officers decided their first move
should be to visit the garage the phone
number of which Glynn had given as
his studio’s. :

However, neither the manager nor
any of the mechanics recalled the jug-
eared photographer or the name Johnny
Glynn. The only apparent explanation
was that he had picked the number at
random from the telephone book or
had noticed it on a large sign out front
as he passed the shop.

A canvass of the entire area around
the garage failed to turn up anyone who
knew the man or recalled ever having
seen him.

Clerks at the Valley division in Van


ts

‘¢.GLATMAN, Harvey, wh
f 8-18-1959, |

_ Case of the

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE, FEBRUARY, 1959.

heard about the jug-eared, mousy-

looking photographer was from the
roommates of the blond, glamorous
model, Judy Ann Dull.

They heard the description twice later
and each time a beautiful young girl
was missing.

Sergeants Pat Kealy and Richard
Ruble of the Valley division made the
first investigation.

The parents of curvaceous Judy Ann,

“Mr. and Mrs. Frederick Van Horn of
La Crescenta, filed the formal missing-
person report with Sergeant Kealy on
Friday, August 2, 1957.

They told him their nineteen-year-
old daughter, who was estranged from
her husband, had been missing since
the previous afternoon from the apart-
ment she shared with two other models
on North Sweetzer Avenue near Hol-
lywood.

Tt first time Los Angeles police

pened to Judy Ann,” the anxious mother
told the detective. “You see, she left
her baby at the apartment. Judy Ann
is crazy about her baby. She was plan-
ning to give up this foolishness of pos-
ing for pictures and take a real job to
support herself and her child.”

' “Do you have any idea where she
might have gone?”

“The girls she lives with said she went
on a job. It was with some man who
wanted to make pictures of her. She
didn’t come back.”

Kealy paused in taking down the re-
port long enough to light a cigarette.

“She may just have gone somewhere
overnight,” he said. “She'll probably
show up soon.”

“We don’t think so,” Mrs. Van Horn
insisted. “Judy Ann has to appear in
court a week from Friday on a custody
hearing. She wouldn’t do anything to
jeopardize her chances of keeping
Susan.”

“Have you talked to her husband?”

“Yes. But Bob says he hasn’t seen
Judy Ann.”

The first and the last victims:
left, Judy Ann Dull, who died;
top, Lorraine Vigil, who didn't

ite, asphyxiated San Quentin (San Diego) on

“We're afraid something has hap-.

MISSING

He wanted to take their pictures, Big-Ears
told the Los Angeles beauties.
But he didn't tell them the pictures
would show their death agonies

“They both want the baby?”

“Yes. Judy Amn said she would get
a job as a clerk ina store in case the
judge thought mnodeling wasn’t the right
kind of work far a mother.”

“We'll investigaite;” Kealy promised.
“And if you knear «anything from her,
you let us kmow right away.”

The officers direve out to Judy Ann’s
apartment.

Lynn Lykek and Betty Carver, room-
mates of the muiissing model, told Kealy
and Ruble that Judy Ann had left the
apartment a two o’clock Thursday
afternoon witin a photographer named
Johnny Glynm.

“He looked. like a phony and now I’m
sure of it,” Lymm declared hotly. “I had
a feeling Judy Amn shouldn’t have gone
with him.”

“Do you kmeow the fellow?” Ruble
asked.

The girls said the ‘had answered an
advertisement tihey had placed, offering
their services ms professional models.
All three aspired ‘to movie careers
through their modieling work.

“He came Weuinesday afternoon when
I was at home: alone,” ‘Betty Carver vol-
unteered. “He said he wanted some pin-
up _— so KE showed ‘him my scrap-

ook.

“He lookecé itt over and ‘then he saw
the scrapbooks «ef iuynn :and Judy Ann.
He looked at. them ‘too and said he
wanted Judy Aum for ithe job.

“I told hime wur ffee was twenty dol-
lars an hour. Be said ‘he could make the
shots he wantexi iin ‘two'!hours and asked
if Judy Anm was available Thursday
afternoon——” :

Kealy intermmpted. “Did he ask for
Judy Ann by rmaame when he came?”

“No,” Betty said, hesitating. “But it’s

funny. He seemmeii ‘to ‘know her as soon
as I showed hizs ther scrapbook. He said
right away she was ‘the one he wanted.”

“Maybe he was ithe man who’s been
following her®” Iyynn exclaimed.

“Has someame tbeen following her?”
Ruble asked qguiidkly.

The girls said! itthat for the past ten
days Judy Amm had complained that
someone had lkeen following her. She
had not been. aiille tto:;get a good look at
the man ane Imad mot reported it to
the police.

Co Leah

eb}

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“That is what we are trying to find
out,” the deputy said.

There was nothing in the room that
provided a clue, but the woman added
a vital fact to the information she had
already given. 3

“That Barker boy was very jealous
of Dorena,” she said.

“Maybe that’s the answer,” Radruch
said. “We're planning to see him right
off.”

ARKER was at his home, an ad-
dress supplied at the school, when
the officers called. He glared at them
blankly.

“Dorena Hammer?” he repeated when
they asked him about the girl. “I haven’t
seen her for a week. We had a date
for this week-end, but she wrote me a
note and said she couldn’t keep it; she
had to go away.”

“She told you in that note where
she was going?” ‘

“Sure. San Leandro.”

Morris took time to think this over.
“You own a car, son?” he asked.

Barker nodded. “A convertible.”

“Such a car was seen at a tourist
cabin in San Leandro Wednesday.”

The youth seemed puzzled. “I wasn’t
there,” he said testily. “I had classes
that day. My car was parked out at the
airport.”

“Don’t lose your temper,” Radruch
said. “There are lots of convertibles.
When did you see the girl last.”

Barker needed time to think. “On
Wednesday, July 8,” he finally replied.
“We went driving, and something was
bothering her. We had dinner and
parked later up in the Berkeley hills.
I wanted to take her dancing, but she
said she wasn’t in the mood for it.”

Morris cut in. “Did she tell you
what was up?” :

“She asked me a funny question.
She wanted to know if it was wrong
for a girl to tell a man she didn’t love
him any more.”

“Know whom she meant?”

The youth looked embarrassed. “I
think so. It was some fellow from
Glendale she’d been running around
with—accepting his presents and going
off with him week-ends. She told me
all about it. He placed her in a difficult
spot.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, he wanted to get her out of
Glendale—a family fuss, or something
—so he sent her to San Jose. Lately,
it seems things quieted down in Glen-
dale and he wanted her back. I pleaded
with Dorena not to go to San Lenadro,
but she refused to listen to me. She
was determined to go!”

It appeared to Morris and Radruch

talking about another man and not
enough about himself. Could it be he
was trying to divert their attention to
this Glendale suitor! .

“We've been told you're pretty jeal-
ous,” Morris suddenly said.

Barker colored. “Where it concerns
Dorena—yes! I tried hard to stop her
from going to San Leandro.”

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Radruch rubbed his chin. “When you
POLICE FILES

that Jay Barker was doing a lot of.

failed,” he suggested, “you went down
there for a showdown?”

The youth swung around to him.
“I wasn’t there!” he snapped. “I’ve
told you that. Say, what is this all
about, anyway?”

It was then that they told him. Jay
Barker’s face took on an expression
of stunned amazement. “Dead?” he
blurted. “Good heavens!”

In a few seconds, his attitude chang-
ed to belligerency. “Then that other fel-
low did it to her—the one she was ditch-
ing!” he snapped heatedly. “I’d like to
lay my hands on——”

“Save it,” Morris ordered. “You'd
better come down and repeat all the
things you’ve been telling us to the
sheriff.”

Gleason heard the youth’s full re-
cital. He sat mulling it over for a few
moments, then rose lazily and walked
over to the phonograph, which he had
plugged into a wall socket. A press
of his thumb sent the turntable spin-
ning. Soft, delicate music began easing
some of the room’s tenseness.

“Nice tune,” the sheriff commented
after about 16 bars or so.

Barker sat phlegmatically through to
the end, then looked around with a
puzzled expression. “You fellows are
supposed to be catching a murderer,”
he said with feeling, “and all you do
is sit around here playing music. What’s
the gag?”

“You don’t recognize that number?”

Barker shook his head. “Never heard
it before.”

The sheriff shut off the phonograph.-
“You run along, son,” he said. ““Wheth-
er you know it or not, we’re making
considerable progress with this investi-
gation.”

In spite of the desire of Morris and
Radruch to investigate Jay Barker's
alibi, Gleason held them off. “The kid
knows nothing about it,” he said. “I’ve
just had a call from Glendale. As soon
as the boys down there do a little more
checking, I’m sure we're going to get
a story that'll make your hair curl.”

Morris sat up. “You mean, a pos-
sible triangle element?”

Gleason shrugged. “A certain third
party would have had an excellent
motive,” he said. “Until the check is
complete, we don’t know for sure.
But let me tell you what the Glendale
boys have reported already.”

This, he revealed, had to do with
a beautiful and popular co-ed of Glen-
dale whose parents were well-to-do.

“She went to the Glendale Junior
College in 1940 and led her class,” the
sheriff said. “But she was the inde-
pendent kind, wanted to make her
own way. So in the summer of 1941,
she took a job clerking in one of the
town’s finest jewelry shops. She made
an immediate hit with her boss, a fel-
low who reached the top after marrying
his own boss’ daughter.

“He had a lot of natural ability,
nevertheless. His business prospered
and he became a director of the Glen-
dale Chamber of Commerce. In addi-
tion, he was a prominent member of
the local Rotary Club.

POLICE FILES

“Well, the affair between the jeweler
and his pretty clerk began innocently
enough. You know, one of those things
like buying her cokes at the corner
drugstore during slack hours. But it
wasn’t long before they were deeply in
love and spending their week-ends at
the mountain resorts around Los An-
geles.”

The sheriff paused to light a smoke.
“Of course, the whole town got wise
to it sooner or later, along with his
wife, who threatened divorce.

“So the philandering Romeo, facing
possible court action which would cost
him half his fortune under the Cali-
fornia property division law, decided
it was time to ship his clerk—in other
words, Dorena—out of town. He pre-
vailed upon her to enroll in the San
Jose Junior College.

“Dorena tearfully obeyed, thinking
it was the end. But the affair had
such a firm grip on the jeweler that
he risked everything to see the girl
week-ends. Then she decided she want-
ed to end the affair. She fled San Jose
and came to Oakland.

“From that point on we can only
conjecture. It seems reasonable to as-
sume, that the jeweler flew up here on
July 15.

“So what happened? Dorena already
had met Jay Barket and decided he
was more her type. When the jeweler
phoned her he was in town, she met
him with a boxful of his letters, in-
tending to end the affair. He may have
suspected as much since he arrived
with a portable phonograph and their
favorite records. But this time the music
that had held them together only served
as a dirge for Dorena.”

The two listening officers were stun-
ned. “Then this jeweler did it?” Rad-
tuch said.

Gleason stamped out his cigarette.
“That’s the way it looks so far. Inci-
dentally, his name is not Lester B.
Girard, as we supposed. But Leslie B.
Gireth. Blame that on his writing. I’ve
already phoned Adams in Fresno to
check the hotel again for a guest of
that name. I’m sure Gireth called in
the original tip from a pay station,
though why, I don’t know.”

“Who owned the convertible?”

Gleason shrugged. “Neither Barker
nor Gireth,” he said. “It just happened
to be a machine which was parked
near Cabin 10 while its owner was
visiting in some other section of the
camp. We can write it off.”

B kes SHERIFF'S phone kept jang-
ling until early evening. First the
Glendale police called back with the
information that no woman could have
been involved in the death of Dorena
Hammer. Then the welcome voice of
Deputy Adams came through from
Fresno.

“Gireth was registered,” the officer
said. “I found him in his room. He’s
apparently been having a hard time
and I hate to think of what he might
have done if he hadn't left that gun in
the bungalow.”

“What does he say?”

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“Up to now, nothing, but he’s on
edge and it won’t take much—”

“We'll be waiting for you, Harry,”

Gleason cut in.

The trip from Fersno, the sheriff
figured, would take Adams and _his
prisoner about four hours. There would
be time for naps and a quick breakfast.

His timing was perfect. After a
quick nap, and ham and eggs in a
nearby restaurant, Gleason, looking out
the window of Oakland’s new court-
house, saw a car pull into the yard be-
low and two men, handcuffed together,
walk toward the elevators.

Remembering what Adams had said
about Gireth being on edge, the sheriff
went to the phonograph and adjusted
it for “repeat.” Then he snapped on
the changer although he had put a
single record on the machine.

Above the soft strains of “Claire de
Lune” could be heard the sound of
the elevator door clanging open in the
hall. Then the tread of men’s feet on
the hard tiling. A door softly opened.
Deputy Adams stood there. Manacled
to him was a short, dapper man with
a woebegone expression. His hair was

ia

tousled, his face haggard and unshaved.
Despite this, the sheriff recognized him
as the man in the death chamber photo-
graph.

But Leslie Gireth never even looked
their way. To him, they seemed not
to be in the room. His gaze went to
the whirring phonograph and a sad,
wistful look came over his face. This
lasted but a brief moment, then a grim-
ace of pain replaced it. Gireth began
sobbing.

“Dorena, darling!” he wept. “What
have I done to you?”

Gleason walked softly across the thick
rug in his office and stopped the music.
The clinking sound of opening hand-
cuffs ominously cut the silence. After

that, the unrestrained anguish of Gireth’s

weeping continued.

But eventually even this came to an
end. Then the Glendale jeweler. looked
up and said, “I think you gentlemen
expect me to confess. I will not dis-
appoint you. I killed Dorena because
I wanted to spare her a scandal which
was soon to ruin both of us. As for
myself, nothing matters now that she
is gone.”

NUDE AT POLICE HQ

(Continued from page 31)

reason was this: Those books seem-
ed a part of you. Then the phone
rang—you were talking. Not like
Fritzie, but a cold business woman.
I couldn’t say a word. .. . I hope
no harm comes in my writing.
There’s no harm in true love, dar-
ling—and that’s what I offered you.
B.E.”

She had written the other note:

“Frank Dear: I don’t think you
will be surprised that I would rather
not come to the studio any more.
To continue would be to tear a
friendship to tatters. . . . It has al-
ways been sweet and pure to me,
and I know to you. I want to keep
it that way. I regret nothing. It has
been the greatest experience in my
life, and I know I am a better wom-
an because of it. If it has meant
anything to you I am glad. I want
you to be happy and blessed al-

ways. Love.
Elfrieda.”

Who “B.E.” was nobody knew, but
Frank was readily identified. He was
Frank Nunn, night policeman of the
village. An unusual policeman, too.

Handsome, 45, he had acted in the
movies, vaudeville, and after becoming
a policeman had taught public speaking
and salesmanship in his own studio.

HERIFF George Heckinger and in-
vestigators from the State’s attor-
ney’s office hurried to Nunn’s home to

46

That was his attitude to the end. In-
dicted on a charge of first-degree mur-
der on July 25, a week after his sweet- @&
heart’s body was found at the altar of «©
their last love, Gireth refused counsel.

But friends of the man_ prevailed
upon a well known attorney to repre- *
sent him. However, on August 14, when B
Gireth appeared for trial in Judge Lin-
coln S. Church’s court in Oakland, he
waved the lawyer aside and entered his
own plea, * ~

“IT am guilty, you honor,” he said.

Judge Church immediately sentenced
the killer to die in San Quentin Prison.

Whereas Leslie Gireth refused the
services of an attorney to defend him
on the murder charge, he hired two
high-priced lawyers to sue the com-
monwealth for the return of his love
letters. It can be said that he literally
died in the lethal gas chamber on Feb-. - %
ruary 8, 1943, to the accompaniment of eI
“Claire de Lune,” since he played this, |
constantly in his cell during his last ~
hours. *

Editor’s Note: The name Jay Barker ~~
is fictitious.

learn what light, if any, he could shed
on the mystery. He could shed none.
He said he was completely in the dark.

They found him in bed with his leg
in a cast, and with his wife and four
children hovering anxiously around him.
He seemed as bewildered as any of
them by the strange affair at police
headquarters,

“Yes, I know Miss Knaak,” he said,
“but only in a professional way. She
was one of my students at the studio.
She was taking a course in salesman-
ship.”

“Were you at the town hall last
night?” he was asked.

He smiled ruefully and pointed to the
plaster cast on his leg. “I haven’t been
outside this house for three days. I fell
off a stepladder and broke my leg.”

His family corroborated this.

Back at the hospital, however, the
dying girl indicated her relationship
with the versatile policeman was some-

thing more than “professional.” Raving |

in delirium, she repeated over and over:

“Frank, darling, I did it all for you.
I love you, Frank, I love you, I love
you!”

Detectives sat at her bedside, listening
attentively. Her words, “I did it all for
you,” suggested her burns might have
been self-inflicted, but the doctors said
this was physically impossible. Her feet
were burnt to the bone. She could not
have stood on either. Hence she could
not have burnt her face and hands.
Moreover, they said, she could not have
stood the torture of slowly burning her-
self to the point of death.

Other detectives checked into her
background, hoping to strike a lead.
They learned she was a young woman
of good family, exemplary habits and

, with a broken leg? Yes, said the doctor, =

2
3 $
considerable culture. She was a gradu- x
ate of Hyde Park High School, also of
the University of Illinois, and she had #
taken a post-graduate course at the Uni-
versity of Chicago. ns
She lived with her brother and wid- —— |
owed mother, had no boy friends, and 2
after teaching school for a short time — |
she had taken a position with the Comp- z
ton Company, selling encyclopedias. It Ss
was then she had met Policeman Nunn,
er whom she became madly infatu- {
ated. As
Checking her movements the preced-
ing day, detectives learned she had left
the Compton office at 6 p.m. and had
gone to Highland Park, where she =
bought a round-trip ticket to Lake Bluff, © |
after making two telephone calls, one
to the police station there. From that 4
time on, her movements could not be ae
traced. a
Chief Rosenhagen said he had locked
up the station about nine o’clock the
previous night and had gone home. It
was still locked when he returned next
morning. How, then, did Elfrieda get
inside the station? Did she have a key?
If so, where was it? Also, where was
her clothing?
Detectives combed every inch of the
basement. They found nothing. They
sifted the furnace ashes. All they found
was a metal buckle that may have come
from a woman’s corset.

APLER three days of intensive in- ©
vestigation, their only lead was a
Policeman Nunn. They had an X-ray |
made of his le
was fractured. 4

Would it be possible, they asked his ~
doctor, for him to hobble to the station

bee
ae

POLICE FILES


Sadistic slayer made photographic records of pretty victims’ last moments of an-
guish. He said Judy Ann Dull (above and right photos) did not even suspect she
would be killed, but Ruth Ann Mercado (left) “pleaded with me at the last minute”

HERE ARE still questions
about the series of mur-
ders of attractive Southern
California girls which re-
main unanswered. At this
date in time, it is a good
bet they will never be an-
swered. If by some remote chance
one or more of the puzzling fac-
tors is unraveled, it will probably
be the result of some fluke dis-
covery.

It was that kind of a case from
the very beginning. A girl would
disappear without a trace. The
police would be called in. A num-
ber of things would be turned up
by them which left little doubt in
their minds that if and when the
missing girl ever was found, she

would be a corpse.

But beyond the early discovery
of those ominous circumstances,
nothing happened. Veteran detec-
tives who knew as much about the
craft of solving crimes and bring-
ing culprits to justice as anyone
in their business ran down every
lead, every clue, interviewed every
friend, relative, casual and inti-
mate acquaintance of the pre-
sumed victim, and then ended up
at the same blank wall.

Their failure at that stage of
their probes was not for any lack
of trying; rather, there simply
was no place else to go, because
this was the type of investigation
in which one can only wait for
further developments. Intuitively,

the probers were haunted by a
nagging premonition that when
the “further development” came,
it would be in the form of another
criminal tragedy.

They derived no satisfaction
from the fact that events proved
them to be right.

So far as the record goes, the
case began on the sultry after-
noon of August 1, 1957, which
was when Judy Ann Van Horn
Dull, a beautiful, 19-year-old pin-
up model with golden blonde hair,
walked out of her West. Holly-
wood apartment with a photog-
rapher to keep a modeling engage-
ment. She was never seen alive
again.

Later that evening, the West

Hollywood station of the Los
Angeles County sheriff’s depart-
ment received a call from Judy’s
roommate, Lois Lee, 18, also a
blonde model, and Judy’s estranged
husband. They reported Judy
missing, adding that she had been
gone since midafternoon and had
failed to keep several appoint-
ments. They were extremely
worried about her.

It wasn’t the sort of alarm that
occasions deep worry among vet-
eran big city cops, who get many
such calls from worried friends
and kin of missing females every
day. The girl had only been miss-
ing a few hours; in 9 out of 10
such cases, the girl would show
up momentarily with some very

37

Rose Arden’s name in any one of a
dozen ways; he probably had picked
the Pico phone number out of thin
air.

The week end passed without a
word from or about Judy Ann Dull.
Her relatives and closest friends
were convinced she’d been kidnaped
and murdered by the man Johnny
Glynn, if that was his name. Detec-
tives, however, were not quite ready
to write off the possibility of a vol-
untary disappearance. They had
learned that while Judy was con-
sidered reliable in her profession, she
was not above certain acts of impet-
uousity and unconventionality.

In the meantime, Los Angeles
newspapers had headlined the dis-
appearance of the glamorous, sexy
model and the sheriff's office was
flooded with tips and leads which had
to be run to earth before they could
be dismissed. Sergeants Ostroff and
White investigated more than a doz-
en reports by frightened young Hol-
lywood models and aspiring actresses
of men who had hired them for pos-
ing jobs and then forced sexual at-
tentions on them under threat of
knife or gun. Until the disappearance
of Judy Dull and its attendant pub-
licity, all the girls said, they had been
afraid to report their experiences.
Several suspects were picked up and
interrogated, without result.

Johnny Glynn, meanwhile, re-
mained a wraith-like enigma. Every
photographer in the Los Angeles area,
and there were more than a thou-
sand of them, was checked; none had
ever heard of a Johnny Glynn. None
knew any photographer who fitted
his description. A check on lensmen
with variations of the name, like
Glenn, Flynn, Wynne and others, was
equally unproductive.

Sergeants White and Ostroff inter-
viewed nearly a couple hundred men
and women who had had contacts of
one sort or another with the missing
girl. They canvassed every photo
studio in Hollywood, West Hollywood
and Beverly Hills. They compared
notes with Hollywood Division police
on several unsolved sex murders,
combed through the modus operandi
of known sex criminals and men re-
cently paroled from prison. They
checked out and dismissed the theory
that Judy might have been pregnant
and was the victim of an abortionist.

Weeks passed, and stretched into
months, without the slightest clue to
the fate of Judy Ann Dull.

Then, on December 29th, a ranch
worker made a discovery. He was
walking through a desolate stretch of
wasteland beside U.S. Highway 60
and the Southern Pacific tracks, be-
tween Indio and Thousand Palms in
the desert country some 130 miles
east of Los Angeles, when his bark-
ing dog led him to a human skull ly-
ing in an abandoned cotton field.
Scanning the ground, he found the
rest of the skeleton buried in a shal-
low grave 120 feet away.

e€ man summoned Riverside
County sheriff’s officers, who found
shreds of brown dress material, un-
derclothing, and a white gold ring
with a single pearl, lying among the
bones, which had been ravaged by
the elements and small animals.

Technicians said the skeleton was
that of a blonde woman between 30
and 35 years old, and estimated it
had been lying in the desert grave
from six months to a year or possi-
bly more. It was too deteriorated to
determine the cause of death. The

fo AA

lab men succeeded in rolling seven
fragmentary prints from the shriv-
eled fingertips and sent them to
Washington, but the FBI could not
match them in its files.

The skeleton, obviously that of a
murder victim, was checked against
missing women reports from through-
out the west. Its dimensions and hair
color closely fitted those of Judy Ann
Dull, but the estimate of the dead
woman’s age and the time she had
been lying there, as well as the dis-
tance from Hollywood, seemed to
rule out the missing pinup model.
Also, Judy’s husband and roommates
were unsure whether or not she had
owned such a pearl ring. The remains
were buried as an unidentified Jane
Doe.

In the early days of March 1958, a
new disappearance case hit the head-
lines. The subject was Shirley Ann
Bridgeford, an attractive 24-year-old
brunette divorcee, mother of two
small children. Her mother, with
whom she and her children lived in a
Los Angeles suburb, reported to Los
Angeles police that Shirley had gone

Suspect would not admit guilt in disappearance of beauties, but when
confronted with vital evidence, said, “I hated to kill those girls . .

a“
.

out on a blind date with a strange
man on Saturday night, March 8th,
and had not returned.

The distraught mother told the full
story to Detective Sergeants R. Pat
Kealy and Richard T. Ruble of the
San Fernando Valley homicide detail,
which doubles as missing persons bu-
reau in the populous suburban area
northwest of Hollywood.

It appeared that Shirley had dated
her Saturday night escort through a
Lonely Hearts club. Divorced three
years before, Shirley Ann had been
engaged to a man for more than a
year. They had planned marriage,
but they split up and he married
someone else. Shirley, a vivacious
young woman who liked parties and
dancing, had not had a single date
since then and was feeling lonesome
and moody.

One of her girl friends suggested,
more or less as a joke, that she ought
to join a Lonely Hearts club. Shirley
took the idea seriously and the week
before she had enrolled in a Friend-
ship Club advertised in the news-
paper.

“She said she was doing it for a
lark,” a relative told the detectives,
“but she was half-serious. She said
to me, ‘Wouldn’t it be funny if I
should meet some nice man that way
and he’d court me and marry me?’”

Shirley Ann’s first—and last—date
arranged by the club was with a man
who gave his name as George Wil-
liams. Detectives learned that Shir-
ley had been excited and happy
about going out with him Saturday
night. He came for her about 7:45
They said they were going to a West-
ern dance over on San Fernand
Road, but none of Shirley’s friend:
saw them there.

Twenty-four hours had _ passed
without a word from the young di-
vorcee. Her relatives and _ friends
were agreed that “Shirley would
never, never stay away from home
like this without even calling.” She
didn’t take any luggage, and she had
only a few cents in her pocket.

Four of Shirley’s relatives had
seen and spoken briefly with George
Williams when Shirley brought him
into the living room where they were
watching television and introduced
him. They described him as about 25
to 35 years old, close to 6 feet tall,
about 170 pounds, with light brown
hair, blue eyes, and a thick but ap-
parently newly-grown mustache. He
had large, protruding ears, they re-
called, and he wore glasses with light
plastic rims.

“Naturally we looked him over,”
one of the relatives said. “He didn’t
seem very well dressed for a Satur-
day night date. He had on a blue
jacket—I think it was a suit jacket,
not a sports jacket—and charcoal
trousers and a white shirt. He
seemed embarrassed at meeting so
many people. He said it was a long
drive out from the city and he was
in a hurry to get going. He spoke sort
of gruffly. He asked Shirley if she
was ready, then he said he was glad
he’d met us all, and held the front
door open for her. Shirley said, ‘I'll
see you later,’ and that’s the last
time we saw her.”

None of the family had looked out
to see what kind of a car the man
was driving.

At the outset, to Sergeant Ruble
and Kealy, the case had all the ear-
marks of an elopement. But when
they called at the friendship club in
Los Angeles and obtained the Pasa-
dena address Williams had given, it
proved to be a phony. Moreover, the
description of the man they got from
the club operator didn’t jibe with
that given by the missing divorcee’s
family. The operator described him
as not more than 5 feet 7 or 9, 150
pounds, slender build, with brown
eyes, prominent ears, no mustache,
and no glasses.

When the detectives learned that
Williams on March 6th had dated a
26-year-old Hollywood secretary,
they checked with her at once. Her
description of him tallied with that
given by the club operator.

“He was a perfect gentleman,” she
assured the officers. “We spent the
evening in my apartment, just chat-
ting. He told me he was a plumber in
Pasadena. He said he drove a Chevy
sedan.”

Sergeants Ruble and Kealy con-
sidered the possibility that the orig-
inal “Williams,” the man who had
registered at the club only recently
might have traded his Saturday night
blind date to some pal. They broad-

(Continued on page 61)

39

GLATMAN, Harvey M., white, gassed CA (San Diego) August 18, 1959

oii Serene SRS ST mam TTS POE RTE SEETT

by ROBERT HUNTER Special Investigator for OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES

The long search for an elusive killer
who preyed on professional beauties
ended when detectives managed to turn up a

PHOTO GALLERY OF
MURDER VICTIMS

36

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE
BEX October, 1970

normal explanation. Routine checks
were made of hospitals and cruisers
patrolling the Sunset Strip were
alerted to be on the watch for the
petite blonde model.

But when Judy was still missing
the next day, with no word from her,
sheriff's detectives entered the case.
As reported to Sergeant David E.
Ostroff, acting West Hollywood de-
tective commander, Judy Ann Van
Horn had been separated since June
from her husband, and had a divorce
action on file. Judy had come to Hol-

lywood to pursue her modeling ca- -

x

Lovely victims had been tied with similar rope a

Told that Rose wasn’t home, the
caller asked if he might look at her
professional photos. Lois invited him
in and showed him not only Rose’s
portfolio, but her own and Judy’s as
well.

“Now there’s a girl I’d like to work
with!” Johnny Glynn exclaimed when
he saw the glamor shots of Judy.
“She’s just the type I have in mind.
When can I contact her?”

Lois gave him their unlisted phone
number. Later she mention his
visit to Judy, saying that he’d been
sent by someone who knew Rose.

ss

nd then shot with .32 caliber automatic weapon after sexual

noon and evening and, at her request,
Johnny Glynn wrote down a phone
number where she could be reached
in case anyone called for her. It was
2:15 p.m. when they left the apart-
ment. Glynn politely carried Judy’s
bag to the car for her.

Lois, eine at home, took a
number of calls for Judy that after-

noon, including some from photog-
raphers, a couple of whom later came
by to complain that Judy had not
shown up for appointments with them
that afternoon and evening.

Judy’s husband stopped by, too. He

assault, But last would-be victim had been plucky and resisted sex attack in time for police to rescue her . .

reer, She shared a swank apartment
with Lois Lee and a third blond mod-
el named Rose Arden, a recent ar-
rival from Florida. All three girls
were making a good living posing for
art photographers. Curvaceous, smil-
ing Judy was especially in demand
for nude and scantily-clad pinup
poses.

Sergeant Ostroff learned that on
Tuesday evening July 30th, Judy and
Rose were out on dates and Lois was
at home, chatting with a friend, when
a slim, serious-looking young fellow
with horn-rimmed glasses came to
the door asking for Rose. He intro-
duced himself as Johnny Glynn, a
freelance photographer, and _ said
Rose had been recommended to him
as a model for a special job. ©

38

Glynn telephoned early Thursday
morning, August Ist, and talked to
Judy. He had a rush assignment, he
said, and wanted her to pose for him
at 2 o’clock that afternoon. He had
no studio at the moment, and would
bring his equipment over to the
apartment. The blonde agreed to fit
the appointment into her busy sched-

ule.

Johnny Glynn showed up a little
after 2 p.m. Lois was home with Judy.
The photographer explained that he’d
been able to obtain the loan of a
friend’s studio after all, and he
agreed to pay Judy her usual $20 per
hour. At his suggestion, she packed
her flimsy pinup garb into her model-

ing case. Judy had other modeling»

dates scheduled for later that after-

said Judy had promised to make a
date with him to discuss their pend-
ing child custody case. At 9 p.m.
another friend of Judy’s called, a well
to-do young contractor, who said
Judy had broken a dinner date with
him, after he had gone to consider-
able trouble to make an appointment
with a lawyer friend for her. He had
called earlier, and said he had tried
the phone number Lois gave him,
only to learn it was a machine shop
in Pico, over on the other side of Los
Angeles.

No one there, he said, had ever
heard of anyone named Johnny
Glynn.

The contractor and Lois now be-
came alarmed. One was always hear-
ing of attacks on unescorted girls and

women in the Hollywood area. Just
a few nights before, in fact, Judy had
remarked that a strange man had fol-
lowed her on the dark street near
their swank apartment house.

While the contractor went out to
check on several Sunset Strip cafes
Judy frequented, Lois called the
missing model’s husband. He came
right out. They made several futile
an to Judy’s parents, friends and
photographers for whom she worked,
then they reported her disappearance
to the sheriff. Theyinsisted Judy
would never of her own accord break
an engagement without even bother-
ing to call. The girl’s car, a Chevrolet,
still stood in the apartment garage.

Sergeant Ostroff had been on the
case only a short time when his in-
stinct told him this missing person
report might well be a serious one.
He had checked out all the informa-
tion his men obtained from Judy’s
husband and roommate. He talked to
a list of photographers for whom she
had worked; they all said she was a
“hundred percent reliable,” and
would have called if she was going to
be late or couldn’t show up for a job.
He checked out the Pico machine
shop, talked with a number of the
girl’s friends, as well as her parents
in a nearby suburb.

Ostroff now consulted with Ser-
geant Richard C. White of the down~-

‘town headquarters missing persons

detail, and in midmorning the sher-
iff’s office issued an all-points bulle-
tin listing Judy Ann Van Horn Dull
as a missing person and possible kid-
nap victim. Pictures of the girl were
supplied to all sheriff's and police
stations.

The bulletin described Judy as 19
years old, five feet four, 110 pounds,
with natural golden blonde har, blue
eyes, a golden tan complexion and a
small mole under her left breast.
When last seen she was wearing a
cocoa-brown sheath dress and low
black shoes.

The man who called himself John-
ny Glynn was described as about 29
years old, five feet nine, 150 pounds,
with dark brown hair, complexion on
the olive side, and prominent ears.
He wore horn-rimmed glasses and a
crumpled dark blue or black business
suit. Lois hadn’t seen his car, but as-
sumed he was driving one. He was a
total stranger to both Judy and Lois,
and Rose had called a number of pho-
tographers, but they couldn’t locate
one who knew Johnny Glynn or who
had given Judy’s name to any man of
his description.

Sheriff's investigators _ quickly
eliminated Judy’s estranged husband
and her contractor friend from all
suspicion after checking them out
thoroughly.

With “Johnny Glynn” as their only
lead, Sergeants Ostroff and White,
aided by other detectives, spent that
day and night and the next day can-
vassing photographers and model
agencies in the Hollywood area, espe-
cially those specializing in models
who posed for pinup and nude pho-
tographs. They questioned several
dozen of Judy’s friends, fellow mod-
els and lensmen who had used her
services. But not a single clue was
developed.

All of which convinced the ser-
geants that the bespectacled young

man had given a phony name and
‘that in all probability, he was not a
photographer at all, at least not a
professional. He could have gotten


a i

GARNER, Lawrence, wh, gassed CASP (SBer) September 4, 1962

(Official Detective, December, 1959

This is Patty, whose tattoo
might have read "Sky High"

And Dick, whose asphalt grave
was marked with pop bottles

Sky-high on a pile of asphalt near Adelanto, California, were the two

bodies. Was the secret of their execution locked behind

the young man and woman were

sleeping. But the top of a huge
pile of road-paving material is a pe-
culair place for a nap.

It was 7:30 on the morning of Tues-
day, September 8, 1959—the day after
Labor Day—when Aduddell, an opera-
tor for the California highway division,
swung his car onto a side road north of
Adelanto to make sure the oiled aggre-
gate was ready for the crews who soon
would begin repairs on Highway 395,
which cuts through the Mojave Desert.

As Aduddell approached the mound
of asphalt, however, he realized how

A T FIRST Eric Aduddell thought

wrong his first impression had been..

The man and woman were dead.

A hurried telephone call brought San
Bernardino County Deputy William
Paterson from the sub-station at Vic-
torville. Sheriff Frank Bland was noti-
fied in San Bernardino and homicide
investigators sped out to the scene.

“Looks like a,shooting gallery,” Lieu-
tenant Hal Oxnevad commented, look-
ing around.

A string of five large-size pop bottles
had been set up about 50 feet from the
bodies. One of them had been smashed.
A dozen or more shells from a .38 and
a .45-caliber pistol were on the ground.

The young man and woman were
lying side by side, face up, with their
arms folded on their chests. He had
been shot through the top of his head.
An ugly wound was between the girl’s
eyes.

“No guns and no car,” Deputy Pater-
son pointed out, eliminating the possi-
bility of a suicide pact.

Homicide Lieutenant Barton A.
Keene questioned Aduddell. “How long

has it been since any of your men were
working out here?” .

“We knocked off Friday afternoon.
Monday was Labor Day. I came out this
morning to look over the supplies be-
fore we went to. work today.”

The bodies already had started to
decompose. The blistering desert sun
and the heat held by the asphalt mix-
ture would have hurried this action.

Identification Detective John C.
Maclvor arrived to photograph the
scene. He suggested: ‘We'd better get
some towels soaked in water to put on
their hands. It’s going tobe tough to
get fingerprints, as it is.” .

The heat was darkening the skin and
shriveling it.

The man had no money except for
47 cents in change. No identification
was found on either body.

The girl appeared to be in her mid-
20’s, with brunet hair fixed in a pony
tail. She had on a gray dress ‘and nylon
stockings, but no shoes. A_ search
around the entire area failed to locate
the shoes.

The man apparently was in his late
20’s and about six feet tall. He was
wearing gray gabardine slacks, a white
shirt with a black tie and black oxfords.
A ring on his finger. bore a crest and
the marking, “SM 1949.”

“Looks like a high-school ring,” Ox-
nevad said. “And the year would about
fit him.”

“Santa Monica?” Paterson asked,
studying the marking. .

“Or San Marino, San Mateo, Santa
Maria,” Oxnevad reminded him. “It
will be tough getting an identification
from that.”

Of course the young couple might not

even be Californians, the detectives
realized, :

Officers found no sign of a struggle
in the area. Apparently the killer
either had caught them completely by

. Surprise, or had.executed them as they

pleaded for their lives.

‘But the most puzzling aspect at the
scene for the investigators was the row
of pop bottles, which obviously had
been set up for target practice, and the
number of shells from two pistols.

Had the couple been doing the shoot-
ing? Was it possible someone had come
by and asked to use one of their guns
and killed them? Or had they stopped
to watch someone else shoot?

“Not much sense in even trying to
guess what happened until we have
something definite to go on,” Keene
reasoned. “The first thing is to get
them identified.”

H= QUESTIONED Deputy Coroner A.
C. McCann. ‘How long do you fig-
ure they’ve been dead? It must have
been sometime since last Friday after-
noon when the highway workers left.”

The*scene was only 400 feet off the
main desert road. But it was unlikely
any motorist would have spotted the
bodies, as most cars travel at high
speed along that straight stretch.

“In this heat, it’s hard to tell,” Mc-
Cann answered. “Could be anywhere
from twenty-four hours right back to
last Friday afternoon. It will take a
post-mortem examination to set it even
close.” :

Keene sent out deputies to canvass
the motels, cafes, bars and service sta-
tions along the highway for someone
who recalled seeing the young couple.

prison bars?

He also sent a team over to Highway
66, which parallels 395 for a short dis-
tance out of Hesperia before it turns
east through Bartow on the route to
Las Vegas.

As McCann removed the bodies, to
take them in to the George Air Force
morgue in Victorville, he found a piece
al crumpled paper under the man’s

y.

Written in pencil was an address:
“536% E. 120th Hawthorne.”

Was it the address of the victims?
The killer? Or might it have been on
the asphalt mound, dropped by some-
one not connected with the crime? A
town of Hawthorne was in Los Angeles
County, not too far away. It could be
there or at any one of a half-dozen
towns of that name scattered around
the country. ,

“The odd are it’s a California ad-
dress,” Oxnevad said. “We'll try that
first.” He radioed to Sheriff Bland,
asking him to arrange with the au-
thorities in Hawthorne to check on the
address.

A broken pair of eyeglasses with clear
plastic frames also was found under the
body, as was a cigarette lighter.

In one of his pockets was a sheet of
paper, apparently a page of a letter. It
was saturated with blood and none of
the writing was legible.

Chemist Anthony Longhetti gathered
up the pop bottles. A preliminary ex-
amination showed partial fingerprints
on them. A number of cigarette butts
of three different brands were found,
indicating that whoever had been at
the scene with the couple probably had
spent some time there.

Near the oiled aggregate pile was a

By Js K. Harris ‘Special Investigator for ACTUAL DETECTIVE STORIES

15


i

partial tire-track. It was photographed
and a plaster moulage was made.

The empty cartridges were marked
carefully for identification. And one
slug from a .45 was dug out of the as-
phalt pile. The officers felt it possibly
was one of the shots that passed
through the victim’s heads.

A deputy’s car pulled up to the scene.

-“I’'ve located someone who thinks he

remembers them!” he reported. “A guy
in a market in Adelanto says he might
have seen them yesterday morning.”

The detectives drove the seven miles
to Adelanto to question Carl Gutknecht,
owner of the market.

“A little, dark-haired gal with a
pony-tall she was,” Gutknecht recalled.
“A cute little trick. The guy with her
was dressed up in a white shirt and a
necktie. Most times, you don’t see any-
body wearing a necktie in this heat.”

Gutknecht said the couple had come
in at around nine o'clock Monday
morning. They had bought five large
bottles of soda pop and the girl had
paid for them, taking the money from
a brown handbag. No purse had been
found at the scene.

The large soda-pop bottles used for
targets were the same brand and flavors
Gutknecht had sold the girl.

6 COUPLE of crumbs were with
them,” the market manager vol-

unteered. “At least, I think they were
with them. They stood around like a
couple of dummies and didn’t even open
their mouths.”

“What do you mean, crumbs?”

Gutknecht said the two men were
older, roughly dressed and their skin
was deeply weathered and sunburned.
“The young couple looked pretty nice,
but the other two looked like bums to
me. You know, I kind of thought it was
funny at the time.”

“What?” Oxnevad prompted.

“About the girl. While she was in
here, she winked at me a couple of
times. I thought she was just one of

those flirty babes, but maybe she was

. trying to signal me, or something. Only,

she didn’t say nothing.”

Had the roughly dressed pair been
holding the young couple hostages? It
was possible the couple had picked up
hitchhikers who had pulled guns on
them. But this didn’t fit the picture of
the empty bottles set up for target
practice. 4

“Did they leave together?” Keene
asked. #*

“They all went out at the same time.
I didn’t actually watch them get into
the car, but I did see the car drive off.”

He described it as a blue, 1955 Nash
Rambler station wagon with a luggage
rack on the roof.

Keene asked Gutknecht which way
the car had been traveling.

““They were headed out across the
desert, toward Edwards Air , Force
Base.” . i

“They must have come in from the
south, then,” Keene said. “‘We’ll can-
vass all the motels on the highway
south of here.” :

In Victorville, McCann called San
Bernardino for Doctor F. Rene Mod-
glin, a noted pathologist. He learned
that Doctor Modglin was in Reno,
Nevada, and finally located him by tele-

phone there. Doctor Modglin promised .

to fly back that evening to perform the
autopsies on the bodies.

When Keene and Oxnevad reached
the morgue, McCann informed them
that both the man and the woman had
tattoo marks. The man--had.a bald
eagle in flight tattooed on his right
forearm.

“The mark on the girl has faded until
it is pretty hard to make out. It seems
to be a word or a name,’”’ McCann said.

The tattoo was on the girl’s leg, above
the left knee. The detectives were un-
able to make out whether it was
“Skyhi,” “Skyhigh,” “Skeher,” or what,

“What do you think it could mean?”
McCann asked.

“Nickname, most likely,” Keene said.

Chemist Longhetti
man's name in a\shoe and a ring

“Maybe hers, maybe a boy-friend’s. It’s
been on a long time.”

Sheriff Bland sent out a description
of the victims and the meager details
concerning the slaying in a broadcast
to all police agencies throughout the
western states. He asked for informa-
tion concerning any missing person
who might fit either of the descriptions,
The police in Hawthorne reported
that the address found on the slip of
paper under the man’s body was for a
house occupied by a Mr. and Mrs. Harry
Chips. The couple did not recognize
the description of the victims as any-
one they knew.

“Chips has no idea how his address
could have gotten on the paper, or out
there,’ the Hawthorne officer said. ““We
have investigated him and he was at his
home Saturday, Sunday and Monday.
He seems to tell a straight story.”

‘KEEP an eye on him until we can
come up with something else,”
Bland advised. “Right now, everything
is so confused, we aren't sure just what
this is all about.”

Doctor Modglin performed the post-
mortem examination in the morning.
He’ placed the time of death roughly
as Monday morning although he em-
phasized that the condition of the
bodies made an accurate estimate im-
possible. :

The girl had been slain by a single
shot that entered the back of her head
and came out between her eyes. The
man was shot through the top of the
head and also in the groin.

“As near as I can figure it out,” Doc-
tor Modglin told the investigators,
“they must have been kneeling, facing
each other.

“The girl was shot first, with the
killer standing behind her. And, very
likely, the same bullet that went
through her head was the one that
struck the man in the groin. The next .
shot was into the top of the man’s
head.”

‘Oxnevad and Keene tried to picture
the execution scene, with the young
couple kneeling, facing each other on
the top of the asphalt pile, and a killer
standing over them.

“Probably made them beg for their
lives and then killed them anyway,”
Oxnevad said.

“But why?” Keene asked. “What was
the mative?” ,

Obviously, the couple had _ been
robbed. The girl’s purse and the man’s
wallet were missing. But the “execu-
tion-type” slayings seemed more in
keeping with a jealousy or revenge
motive.

Meanwhile, the chemist, Longhetti,
developed the physical evidence gath-
ered at the crime scene. Using chemi-
cals, he attempted to bring out the
writing on the bloodstained letter.

He was able to bring out the words
“Dear Patty” and a few other words
that indicated the writer was pleading
for a reconciliation.

“You.can’t get a signature?” Oxne-
vad asked.

“Not so far,”” Longhetti answered. “It
looks like there might have been a sec-
ond page.”

Was the girl victim Patty?

Why was the man carrying the let-

ter if it-was addressed to the girl?

Had he written it? Or had the letter
been written by the killer? Was the
motive for the double slaying somehow

lt was quite a party—most of them ex-convicts

16


Se ees SP

~ Where. roca

tied in vith | the plea for Patty to re-
turn?

The investigators could ask the ques-
tions, but they had nothing to indicate
answers, ~~”

Longhetti learned that the ring on
the man’s finger was a class ring manu-
factured by a company in Minnesota.
A sketch of the emblem was sent by
wire-photo, asking if it could, be
checked against the order files to de-
termine what school had ordered it.

A label. in the man’s necktie was
traced to a men’s:shop in Pasadena.
The owner recognized it as one that
had been sold there, but he had no rec-
oF of the customer who had purchased
t. ,
Serial numbers in the man’s shoes
also were recovered by Longhetti, who
wired the manufacturer, requesting in-
formation: on what retail outlet had
handled them.

Nothing in the girl’s clothing pro-
vided a lead to her identity. Deputies
continued to comb the area around the
death scene without locating her shoes.

“We can tell. by her stockings that
she didn’t walk far without the shoes,”
Longhetti said. “But it just doesn't
make sense for the killer to have taken
them.”

With a great deal of difficulty, Lon-
ghetti was able to peel the skin from the
shriveled fingers of the victims ani
stretch it over wax molds to obtan
prints. He matched the girl’s prirts
with some of those found on the pop
bottles set up for target practice.

The canvass of motels, all the way
from Los Angeles through to Las
Vegas, Death Valley and Reno, failed
to locate anyone who recalled seeing
the young couple or the tvo men the
market owner in Adelanto described as

being with them.

T= San Bernardino County sheriff’s
officers had worked around the clock

and were well into their second day of

the investigation and they still hadn’t

been able to identify either of the vic-

tims.

“Somebody is bound to miss them
sooner or later,” Oxnevad reasoned.
“And with all the publicity the case is
getting, you’d think we at least: would
be getting some inquiries.”

The weird desert. execution was
receiving headline attention in news-
papers through the western states.

Late Wednesday evening, Mrs. Vir-
ginia Brook of Pasadena, California,
called the sheriff’s office in San Ber-
nardino. She had read in the news-.
papers about the desert slayings and’
believed. the dead girl might be her
niece.

Mrs. Brook said that her niece, Mrs.
Pauline Wilson Thomas, and her hus-
band, Jerry, had stopped by to see her
and another aunt while on their way to
Las Vegas the previous Saturday. The
description of the victims resembled
those of the Thomases, she said.

Mrs. Brook and her sister were asked
to come to the morgue in Victorville to
view the body.

The heavy slug that exited between
the girl’s eyes had disfigured her face
to some extent. The morgue attendants
attempted to repair the damage with
wax and make-up before the women
arrived.

Mrs. Brook took only one look at the
body and exclaimed: “That is Pauline!
I’m sure!”

the

missing guest?

The grl’s parents, who ‘arrived the
next moning from Pasadena, were less
certain te victim was their daughter.

“Did RAuline have a name of some
kind tatboed on her left leg?’ Keene
asked.

“Not tat I know of,” her mother
answered,

“Is thee anything you can tell us
about yoir daughter that will help us
make the identification positive?” Ox-
‘nevad pressed.

“I dont know,” the tearful mother
said. “She is about the same age and
size as Pauline. She has the same kind
of hair—only, I just can’t be sure.”

The investigators realized that the
conditionof the bodies from the blister-
ing sun and the mutilation caused by
the bullet wounds made identification
difficult.

“Pauline was so happy the last time
I talked © her,” the woman continued.
“She tol me she just couldn’t wait until
the baly came.”

“yar daughter
Keere asked quickly.

Jne mother nodded. She said Pauline
vas four months pregnant.

Keene called Doctor Modglin.

“The victim was not pregnant,” Doc-

tor Modglin stated positively.

“Could she have lost an expected
child recently?”

“Impossible.”

She was not Pauline Thomas. The
victims of the desert execution slayings
were still unidentified.

Chemist Longhetti’s patient work
brought results the next day. He re~
ported to Keene and Oxnevad that a
wire had come in from Minnesota plac-
ing the ring the male yictim had worn
as one ordered by the high school in
San Marino, California.

“That’s going to narrow it down
some,” Keene said. “‘ The victim could
be one of the nineteen-forty-nine grad-
uating class. We can get the school
ta and maybe we can pick him
out.”

“I have one more thing,” Longhetti
added.

He said the manufacturer of the shoes
the victim had been wearing had traced
the serial numbers to a lot ordered by a
shoe store in San Marino.

(Continued on page 65)

was pregnant?”

Edwin Hinds: had he given
his own address to a killer?


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4

A description of the car, a green Olds-
mobile sedan, and its license number
was flashed to all Pennsylvania and
New York police, and the highways
were soon swarming with radio cars.
Roadblocks were set up at every stra-
tegic point.

HAT afternoon, on Route 202, near

Flemington, New Jersey, State
Trooper Tom Boyce spotted the fugi-
tive car coming toward him. He made
a quick U-turn and took off after it at
eighty miles an hour. Five miles further
on, the Oldsmobile suddenly slammed
to a skidding halt. As Boyce brought
his radio car to quick stop, he saw
Irwin, gun in hand, race out one side
and into the woods, and the hysterical
gitl fall out of the other side and
stagger toward him. Boyce pegged a
couple of shots after Irwin, who disap-
peared into the woods.

In a matter of minutes, help arrived,
and the rescued girl was rushed to a
hospital. She verified the story of her
boyfriend in Washington, and of the
fugitive’s Philadelphia uncle, and told
a horrifying tale of two days of terror,
flight, and forced submissions to the
psychopathic killer.

With the girl out of his clutches, the
armed might of the law in all its fury
now swept down on Warren Lee Irwin.
Before nightfall, hundreds of men and
cars had sealed off a twenty-five mile
area around the patch of woods into
which he had disappeared.

Airplanes and helicopters flew over-

head, posses beat the brush, foot by foot.
Local residents barricaded their doors
and stood guard with rifles and shot-
guns, and packs of baying hounds lent
an eerie atmosphere to the late after-
noon and evening. That night, a violent
storm broke, to add to the discomfort
of the searchers and provide possible
cover for the fugitive’s escape.

But the police knew Irwin could not
escape them this time, because despite
the storm, men stuck to their posts, car
lights and giant flashlights were kept
burning, and everything that moved was
halted. When dawn broke, they started
moving into the game preserve in which
Irwin had chosen to make his last stand.

Arthur Doan and Joseph Nardolli,
civilian flyers aiding the police, were
flying low over the area in the early
afternoon. Suddenly they spotted a man
lying alongside a fence. Landing the
plane in a near-by field, one of them
rushed to a farmhouse for a shotgun
and the other raced to the highway to
alert the police.

The man lying by the fence was
Irwin, all right, but he was dead, and
had been: for hours. Some time during
the night he had taken his lethal .38
caliber pistol, placed it to his head and
ended his spree of robbery, murder,
kidnapping and worse—with the same
gun that had begun it.

Note: The names Emanuel and
Florence Melanek are fictitious to spare
innocent persons unnecessary embarrass-
ment.

KILLER BRIDE AND HER

GANGSTER GROOM

(Continued from page 15)

Ww the deputy coroner’s initial efforts
completed, the sheriff's examiners
turned their attention to trying to iden-
tify the victims.

Neither of the victims’ effects offered
much in concrete leads. The dead man.
had no wallet in his pockets, only a
few cents in change anda letter, so
blood-soaked it was almost illegible. He
wore a class ring with a school mono-
gram SM and 1949 engraved in it. An
eagle in flight was tattooed on his right
forearm. His slacks and shirt were of
good quality; his tie had been pur-
chased, its label revealed, in a Pasadena
store.

The woman’s body yielded still less in
the way of identification. She, too, bore
a tattoo, however it was barely legible.
The officers interpreted the markings, on
her left thigh just above the knee, as
SKIHI or SKEHE.

The best lead was uncovered when the
bodies were turned over for further ex-
amination. Under the man’s left hip was

a crumpled slip of paper, apparently a
page torn hastily from a pocket note-
book. Although it was bloodsoaked, the
officers were able to make out writing on
it, an address in Hawthorne, a Los
Angeles suburb.

By the time Sheriff Frank Bland and
Chief Deputy Coroner Edward P. Boyle
arrived at the murder scene this informa-
tion had already been radioed to head-
quarters and then relayed to the Haw-
thorne police department for a follow-up.

HILE the bodies of the two unknown

victims were being transported to the
mortuary at nearby George Air Force
Base, the sheriff instructed his men to
expand their search for clues along the
highway in each direction. The nearest
habitation to this lonesome spot, bounded
on both sides of the road by the desert—
which stretched in one direction to the
dried up bed of the Mojave Desert and,
in the other, to the distant slopes of
the Shawdow Mountains—was the small
town of Adelanto six miles away. There,
the investigators picked up what looked
like a solid bit of information.

A local grocer, on hearing the descrip-
tion of the dead couple from deputies,
recalled that a man and woman closely
resembling such a pair had been in his
store about eight-fifteen on Labor Day
morning. Two other men, whom he de-
scribed as rough types who were un-

CRIME DETECTIVE

AM

HC

FOR

By John t

Im no a
I'm a docto
many trips
sota count!
some things
tell you abo

Believe n
experience |
Out there w
wonder di
these peopl:
strong with
ing soda, \
other ever\
tonishing |
“home rem
illness, cle:
colds, help |
their man]
vigor, let th
fants all n
these peop!
bad”!

Far out
Upper Red
a trick witt
gives faster
ing muscle
ment I kn

They als«
to clear up «
irritations. |
I haven't ru:
does it any

Drive we
you'll meet
grandmas a:
grandpas w
digestion,
going stror
ninety and
secret is a
ders for
And part of
cold water
different wa
did it back
you.

Why Don
Know Abc
Home Re:

Well, yc
patent mec
advertising
its way int
And when
about a ho
as well or
the cost, the
and say:
here among
of Minnes
simple, safe
made tonics
and other n
of a uniqt
program th
for thousar
and old, es
to-use reme
life-savers <
and anyone
confidence
right thing

CRIME DE

abcd

“Dick lay there begging me for mercy. But | shot him in the head,
and his bride, center, re-enact the crime. “Then Patricia took Dick’

the pleasures of the long week end and its relief from
working in temperatures that had been flirting around
the 100-degree mark. chs
Watching his men lethargically getting ready for the
day’s toil, the construction foreman felt sorry for ‘them,
and for himself, because he knew he would be working
right beside them in the cruel heat. But the job had to

be done, and it was up to him to see that it was finished’

on time. He turned away-from his men and walked up

the right-of-way, past the heavy graders and Paving ma-
that -

chines toward the pile of black road-mix materi:
stretched away into the distance along er og roadbed.

Two white splotches on the ridge of the surfacing
material caught his eye a short distance ahead. It took
him a moment to realize that the blobs of light in the
glare of the sun-actually were two bodies, a man’s and a
woman’s, sprawled on their backs, side by side.

“What a helluva place to pick to sleep off a drunk!”
the foreman muttered as he walked closer to the- pair.
“Hey, you two, wake up, we’ve got work to do here!” he
called.

faces, partially decomposed—that would haunt his memo.
for days to come. 5 Bile fh pT ee
“Good God!” the foreman yelled. ‘“‘They’re dead!” °

14

Suddenly, he stopped. The faces of the pair were partly is
covered ‘with crusted, dark blood. They were bloated

nf Fis

As the laborers ran forward at his outcry, the quick- 4

and that finished him,” killer, left, tells Sheriff Bland, right, as he
f $ head inher lap and held him close. She was crying, ‘Baby, Baby.’ But
when | came near her she started cursing me, so | shot her, too. The one shot did it with her.” Murdering couple had been caught in Mexico.

thinking foreman stopped them. “Stay back,” he called.
“There. may be tracks or something around here that

» the police will want to see.” He walked gingerly back to

his men and issued some hurried instructions. “I’m going
to go 1 sauneae the police. Meanwhile, you guys stay awa’

from them and don’t let anybody, go near them or touc!

them.” Then he climbed into his car and sped off down
the highway to a service station at Adelanto. There he
phoned the California state highway patrol office at
Victorville, just nine miles away, and informed the officer
who took his call of his grisly discovery.

Y the time the foreman got back to his men, he found
them busy holding back curious motorists who had

‘stopped. by the roadside, as. well as additional construction

workers who had reported for work. His arrival was
followed shortly by that of Highway Patrolman L. A.
McNeill and Deputy Sheriff William Patterson of the
Victorville substation.

While the two officers conferred over the bodies,
additional highway patrolmen arrived. Their immediate

findings were‘relayed by. radio to the county seat at San.
’~ Bernardino, some forty miles away over the mountains to

the south. By eight a.m., less than thirty minutes after

*{ the discovery of the bodies, the officers at the scene were
informed that technical assistance and additional officers
- were on the way from San Bernardino. In the meantime

CRIME DETECTIVE

Seay

ERTS FEET

PIO TREO

the officers at |
the preliminary
The first assu
murder-suicide
victims, who aj
shot in the he
material indica
There were no
were clear in tl
The dead ma
hair. He was «
spattered slack:
woman, just ove
a hundred pou
back in a pon
flecked with a {
less. The man h
the woman, in
Between the
smoked cigaret
of plastic-frame
beside the man
around the two
in sight, nor w
Extending th:
a number of ca
or more of the
This discovery
roadbed where
like soldiers wz
One of the pop
around the bo:
‘furrows in the
taking target pr
“Do you supp
before he shot t
“Could be,”
they were all sh:
By the time
Bernardino—und
Keene and Ins
found more em;
bottles, several :

EPUTY Coro

John C. M
finished diagran
the bodies and
of McCann’s fir
couple’s fingerti
the heat, to pr
the wounds.

The man, Mc
once in the gro
second shot fire
sun-blackened f:
may have been
bludgeon. The 1
early thirties.

One shot squz
had killed the w
at about twenty-

In trying to e
the deputy coro:
indications were
past twenty-four
peratures in the
mark in the d:
regular estimati
problem was th
itself. The surfac

.added to it in so:

in an especially

One point the
had. been shot a
they died. The

‘the pattern of bic

certain.
CRIME DETECTIVE


Bland, right, as he
z, ‘Baby, Baby.’ But
n caught in Mexico.

back,” he called.
around here that
gingerly back to
ctions. “I’m going
1 guys stay awa
ar them or touc!
id sped off down
lelanto. There he
patrol office at
‘ormed the officer

lis men, he found
\otorists who had
ional construction
His arrival was
Patrolman L. A.
Patterson of the

over the bodies,
Their immediate

sunty seat at San.

the mountains to
rty minutes after
at the scene were
additional officers

In the meantime

CRIME DETECTIVE

-One of the pop bottles was broken. Examining 'the ground —

sfurrows in the ground that indicated someone had
‘taking target practice ‘at.the scene, takin

the bodies and the area around

past twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The varying tem- ’ >

added to it in some: cases, often building up to 160 degrees

the officers at the construction site were to proceed with
the preliminary investigation. ae GSN NO
The first assumption, that the pair might have died in a
murder-suicide pact, was quickly dispelled. Both of the
victims, who appeared to be in their twenties, had been
shot in the head and the blood on the ‘tarry ‘ftoad-mix
material indicated they had been shot ‘where they lay.
There were no signs of a struggle, but several footprints ©
were clear in the steaming road-mix.. i WEEE tes a
The dead man was. a husky six-footer with curly auburn ©;
hair. He was dressed in a: white. shirt and gray, blood-°
spattered slacks. His companion in death was a small, .
woman, just over five feet tall, weighing slightly more than -
a hundred pounds. Her long: brunette hair. was, pulled ©
back in a pony tail. She wore a gray sleeveless dress -
flecked with a few splotches of blood, and: she was shoe-
less. The man had been shot in the head and the abdomen;
the woman, in the forehead. Ct ei Mal eed ingest aan
Between the bodies the investigators found .a partially-
smoked cigarette and a- chrome-plated lighter. A pair .
of plastic-framed’ glasses with the left*lens broken lay.’
beside the man’s head and a, few coins were. scattered ©
around the two bodies. The woman’s shoes were nowhere
in sight, nor was her purse. vee a2 Lan. Paani ae
Extending their search of the area the officers found ~
a number of cartridge cases, both .45s and .32s. A dozen _
or more of the shell casings lay not far from the bodies...
This discovery led the searchers to the sand beside the  ~
roadbed where a row of empty soft-drink bottles “stood "®
like soldiers waiting for. commands from a dead leader. :

around the bottles, the officers’ found little tears and. -

bape ft

““Do you suppose Somebody tried his

: before he shot these two?” one officer asked. incredulous! | Clues found on the victims are examined by forensic chemist, An-

“Could be,” a fellow investigator agreed. “Or ‘maybe™ ,. BUM OM time cmt earl CLC) Ne a CLR SR CeeTerte
they were all shooting together when an argument started.” EOMIRMCEI (aie M yc moet MELLO MEAT CETN A Tce) X¢ Mm OM SM IT)

By the time the covey of technicians arrived from San’) . EiVQMmUuachiaeal CUCM TSM CHIU ACRES CT-N Otel On A ET Be
Bernardino—under the direction of Lieutenant ‘Barton: A... TESRISMAUCRIOC ICO RSUUEnU Ochi Riera amen ice
Keene and. Inspector Hal .Oxnevad—the. searchers’ had
found more empty shells, two cartons of empty soft-drink > ©
bottles, several more cigarette butts and a loaded .45 clip. ~

>

EPUTY Coroner A, J. McCann took over when Deputy
John C. Maclvor, of the idéntification bureau,: had.
finished diagramming the’ scene ob taking. pictures of
the murder scene. One.
of McCann’s first actions was to apply wet cloths to the ~
couple’s fingertips, already shriveled and darkened: by — .
the heat,.to preserve the markings. ‘Then he: examined: ~
the wounds. : PUN Be
The man, McCann soon reported, had been shot twice,
once in the groin and once in the top of the head, the
second shot fired at close range. Bruises. on the man’s (7)
sun-blackened face indicated, the examiner said, that he ~~
may have been pistol-whipped or beaten with a heavy
bludgeon. The man was, he: felt, in -his late twenties or‘
early thirties. os eae we fa. Pees
One shot squarely placed in the center of her forehead
had killed the woman, McCann said. Her age he placed
at about twenty-five to thirty, probably nearer thirty.
In trying to estimate how long the pair had been dead
the deputy coroner faced his most difficult task. The’ first.
indications were, he said, that they had died. within the.

peratures in the Mojave, ranging from around the 100-
mark in the daytime to near freezing at night, made:
regular estimating procedures difficult. Adding to the
problem was the heat of the tarry road-mix: material
itself. The surfacing mixture retained the heat and actually .

in an especially fierce sun.

One point the official felt sure about was that the couple
had been shot at the scene and not brought there after
they died. The post-mortem lividity on ‘the bodies and
the pattern of blood at the site made this conclusion almost
certain. (Continued on page 64)
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known and wore dirty clothes, had been
with them. They had bought an assort-
ment of soft drinks, and the young
woman had insisted on paying for them.
The grocer had watched the strange
quartet—the young woman and_ her

‘neatly-dressed companion and the two
shaggy fellow travelers—drive away in a

two-tone station wagon. They had headed
north on Route 395, he thought.

When he was brought to the air base
morgue, the grocer wasn’t certain that
the dead couple was the same young
pair that had been in his store the day
before, since their features had been so
distorted by the sun and decomposition.
He felt they were the same ones, how-
ever, because of the clothing, physiques
and hair coloring.

The investigators felt the couple may
have been the victim of hitchhikers—the
two rough men with them in the store.
This information was withheld from gen-
eral circulation, however, so that these
first possible suspects would not be
scared into hiding: Instead, a police
radio alert for their apprehension was
ordered, with specific instructions that
deputies attempt to run down any traces
of the two-tone station wagon.

A ised as this manhunt was being set in
operation, the first report was received

from Hawthorne police on the address

that had been on the scrap of paper
found under the dead man. The address
was that of a small apartment near the
Hollywood Park race track. According
to neighbors, who were questioned when
police found no one at home there, two
young couples occupied the apartment.
No one seemed to know their names,
although one person recalled that one
couple had been living in the apartment
for three or four weeks, while the other
pair had arrived only recently, from
Texas, it was believed. Hawthorne offi-
cers were attempting to locate the build-
ing landlord, Sheriff Bland was informed,
and would report again later.

The crime lab’s forensic chemist, An-
thony Longhetti, had meanwhile been
working on the’slim' clues found at the
desert murder site, and had further in-
formation for the sheriff. The only de-
cipherable word in the blood-stained
letter found in the dead man’s pocket,
he reported, was “love.” However, in-
side the man’s school ring two initials,
R and N, had been scratched. This bit
of news was relayed to deputies who
already had been contacting school au-

thorities in an attempt to trace the SM

school monogram on the ring.

Deputies trying to track down the
dead man’s clothes were informed that,
in addition to wearing a tie purchased
in Pasadena, the victim had worn shoes
with a distinctive metal heel stud and,
inside, a manufacturer’s code number
and the stamp of a Pasadena shoe store.
The clothing leads quickly played out,
however, when the shoe store reported
it had no record of the purchaser’s name,
and the haberdashery could not trace the
buyer of the necktie.

The investigators got one break, how-

_ever. From the morgue came word that

readable fingerprints had been taken from
the victims’ hands. To Sheriff Bland,
Captain‘ P. R. Sellas, chief of records
and identification, reported that the prints
were “good enough to, eliminate or
identify the couple positively against any
set that turns up for comparison. But
unfortunately they are not good enough
to work out the complete formula needed

to find them in the files.” Copies of the
blurred prints were sent to the FBI in
Washington.

Ww most of the leads played out by
late afternoon, Sheriff Bland, who had
returned to San Bernardino, decided to
put out an all points bulletin to officers
in the Western states, describing the vic-
tims, the two possible suspects, the station
wagon, and the details of the murder as
they had been developed at that time.

The press was quick to pick up the
details of the bulletin and, by Tuesday
night, the desert murders had pushed the
holiday traffic fatality statistics out of the
headlines. And the clamor in the news-
papers and on television and radio quick-
ly brought results, in the form of tips
which poured in to the sheriff's office,
tips on who the victims might have been,
who the suspects certainly were, and
numerous sightings of the missing station
wagon. All of these leads had to be
followed up by deputies who worked
throughout the night.

By Wednesday morning the most prom-
ising lead that still remained was one
which had come in from two distraught
women who lived in Inglewood, near
Hawthorne. They had informed officers
that the dead woman’s description tallied
closely with that of their niece, an
eighteen-year-old Santa Maria girl who
had been living with them while preg-
nant. On Monday, Labor Day, they had
come home to find a note from the
niece saying that her husband—a young
man who fitted the general description of
the male murder victim—had come down
from Santa Maria with his two brothers
and that they were all driving to Las
Vegas to look for work. The two aunts
had become worried after reading of the
double murder because of the descrip-
tions of the victims, and because they
knew the two brothers of their niece’s
husband were rough types, and that both
had police records.

Rushed to the mortuary at the air
base, the two nervous women said the
dead ‘girl could be their niece, but they
weren’t certain. The dead man, they felt
sure, was not her husband, but possibly
one of her brothers-in-law.

Puzzled by the time element—the
quartet had been seen in the Adelanto
grocery early Monday morning and the
missing niece still had been at her
aunts’ home in Inglewood at approximate-
ly the same time—the investigators tried
to pin down the identification further.

The pregnant girl’s parents were
brought from their home in Pasadena to
the George Air Force Base mortuary.
They, too, made a tentative identifica-
tion of the girl’s body, although, like the
aunts, they could not.be certain, because
of the terrible effects of the advanced
decomposition. When the tattoo on the
girl was mentioned, they said that as
far as they knew their daughter did not
have such a mark on her.

An additional attempt at identification
was made by taking photos of the missing
niece, her husband and his brothers to
the Adelanto grocer in hopes that he
would recognize them as his customers of
Labor Day morning. He was not able to

definitely identify them.

EXT morning, the entire line of in-
vestigation fell through when the
coroner’s autopsy surgeon reported that
the dead girl was not pregnant, as the
missing niece was known to be; that she
had almost certainly been killed early

CRIME DETECTIVE

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CRIME DET


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56

better come down and repeat all the
things you've been telling us to the
sheriff.”

Gleason heard the youth’s full re-
cital. He sat mulling it over for a few
moments, then rose lazily and walked
over to the phonograph, which he had
plugged into a wall socket. A press
of his thumb sent the turntable spin-
ning. Soft, delicate music began eas-
ing some of the room’s tenseness.

“Nice tune,” the sheriff commented
after about 16 bars or so.

Barker sat phlegmatically through
to the end, then looked around with
a puzzled expression. “You fellows
are supposed to be catching a mur-
derer,” he said with feeling, “and all
you do is sit around here playing
music. What’s the gag?”

“You don't recognize that number?”

Barker shook his head.
heard it before.”

The sheriff shut off the phonograph.
“You run along, son,” he = said.
“Whether you know it or not, we’re

“Never

making considerable progress with
this investigation.”

In spite of the desire of Morris and
Radruch to investigate Jay Barker’s
alibi, Gleason held them off. “The kid
knows nothing about it,” he said. “I’ve
just had a call-from Glendale. As
soon as the boys down there do a little
more checking, I’m sure we’re going
to get a story that'll make. your hair
curl.”

_Morris sat up. “You mean, a pos-
sible triangle element?”

Gleason srugged. “A certain third
party would have had an excellent
motive,” he said. “Until the check is
complete, we don’t know for sure.
But let me tell you what the Glen-
dale boys have reported already.”

This, he revealed, had to do with
a beautiful and popular co-ed of Glen-
dale whose parents were well-to-do.

“She went to the Glendale Junior
College in 1940 and led her class,” the
sheriff said. “But she was the inde-
pendent kind, wanted to make her

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own way. So in the summer of 1941,
she took a job clerking in one of the
town’s finest jewelry shops. She made
an immediate hit with her boss, a fel-
low who reached the top after marry-
ing his own boss’ daughter.

“He had a lot of natural ability,
nevertheless. His business prospered
and he became a director of the Glen-
dale Chamber of Commerce. In addi-
tion, he was a prominent member of
the local Rotary Club.

“Well, the affair between the jew-
eler and his pretty clerk began in-
nocently enough. You know, one of
those things like buying her cokes at
the corner drugstore during slack
hours. But it wasn’t long before they
were deeply in love and spending their
week-ends at the mountain resorts
around Los Angeles.” |

The sheriff paused to light a smoke.
“Of course, the whole town got wise
to it sooner or later, along with his
wife, who threatened divorce.

“So the philandering Romeo, facing

possible court action which would cost
him half his fortune under the Cali-
fornia property division law, decided
it was time to ship his clerk—in other
words, Dorena—out of town. He pre-
vailed upon her to enroll in the San
Jose Junior College.
_ “Dorena tearfully obeyed, thinking
it was the end. But the affair had
such a firm grip on the jeweler that
he risked everything to see the girl.
week-ends. Then she decided she
wanted to end the affair. She fled San
Jose and came to Oakland.

“From that point on we can only
conjecture. It seems reasonable to as-
sume, that the jeweler flew up here on
July 15. In fact, the Glendale police
interviewed a friend of his who said
as much.

“So what happened? Dorena already
had met Jay Barker and decided he
was more her type. When the jeweler
phoned her he was in town, she met
him with a boxful of his letters, in-
tending to end the affair. He may
have suspected as much since he ar-
rived with a portable phonograph and
their favorite records. But this time
the music that had held them together
only served as a dirge for Dorena.”

The two listening officers were stun-
ned. “Then this jeweler did it?” Rad-
ruch said.

Gleason stamped out his cigarette.
“That's the way it looks so far. Inci-
dentally, his name is not Lester B.
Girard, as we supposed, But Leslie B.
Gireth. Blame that on his writing.
I’ve haere J phoned Adams in Fresno
to check the hotel again for a guest
of that name. I’m sure Gireth called
in the original tip from a pay station,
though why, I don’t know.”

“Who owned the convertible?”

Gleason shrugged. “Neither Barker
nor Gireth,” he said. “It just happened
to be a machine which was parked
near Cabin 10 while its owner was
visiting in some other section of the
camp. We can write it off.”

6 SHERIFF'S phone kept jang-
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Glendale police called back with the
information that no woman could have
been involved in the death of Dorena
Hammer. Then the welcome voice of
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said. “I found him in his room. He’s
apparently been having a hard time
and I hate to think of what he might
have done if he hadn’t left that gun in
the bungalow.”

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| began. sobbing.

“What does he say?”-

“Up to now, nothing, but he’s on
edge and it won’t take much—” Z
“We'll be waiting for you, Harry,
Gleason cut in. ‘
The trip from Fresno, the sheriff
figured, would take Adams and his
prisoner about four hours. There
would be time for naps and a quick
breakfast.

His timing was perfect. After a
quick nap, and ham and eggs in a
nearby restaurant, Gleason, looking
out the window of Oakland’s new
courthouse, saw a car pull into the
yard below and two men, handcuffed
together, walk toward the elevators.
Remembering what Adams had said
about Gireth being on edge, the sheriff
went to the phonograph and adjusted
it for “repeat.” Then he snapped on
the changer although he had but a
single record on the machine. |

“ Above the soft strains of “Claire de
Lune” could be heard the sound of
the elevator door clanging open in the
hall. Then the tread of men’s feet on
the hard tiling. A door softly opened.
Deputy Adams stood there. Manacled
to him was a short, dapper man with
a woebegone expression. His hair
was tousled, his face haggard and un-
shaved. Despite this, the sheriff rec-
ognized him as the man in the death
chamber photograph.

But Leslie Gireth never even looked
their way. To him, they seemed not
to be in the room. His gaze went to
the whirring phonograph and a sad,
wistful look came over his face. This
lasted but a brief moment, then a
grimace of pain replaced it. Gireth

“Dorena, darling!” he wept. “What
have I done to you?”

Gleason walked softly across the
thick rug in his office and stopped the
music, The clinking sound of opening
handcuffs ominously cut the silence.
After that, the unrestrained anguish
of Gireth’s weeping continued.

But eventually even this came to an
end. Then the Glendale jeweler looked
up and said, “I think you gentlemen
expect me to confess. I will not dis-°
appoint you. I killed Dorena because
I wanted to spare her a scandal which
was soon to ruin both of us. As for
myself, nothing matters now that she
is gone.”

That was his attitude to the end.
Indicted on a charge of first-degree
murder on July 25, a week after his
sweetheart’s body was found at the
altar of their last love, Gireth refused
counsel. :

But friends of the man prevailed
upon a well known attorney to repre-
sent him. However, on August 14,
when Gireth appeared for trial in
Judge Lincoln S. Church’s court in
Oakland, he waved the lawyer aside
and entered his own plea. :

“I am guilty, your honor,” he said.

Judge Church immediately sen-
tenced the killer to die in San Quen-
tin Prison.

Whereas Leslie Gireth refused the
services of an attorney to defend him
on the murder charge, he hired two
high-priced lawyers to sue the com-~+
monwealth for the return of his love
letters. It can be said that he literally
died in the lethal gas chamber on
February 8, 1943, to the accompani-
ment of “Claire de Lune,’ since he

layed this constantly in his cell dur-

ing his last hours.

Note: The name of Jay Barker is

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_He gave Morris a notation of the
girl’s address, as culled from the love
notes. “Call the San Jose police,” he
ordered, “and have them visit this 11th
Street pee. I want to know every-
thing they can tell us about Dorena
Hammer.”

As the deputies went into action
over the phones, the sheriff studied

x | the small-caliber pistol, the phono-

graph and collection of records, the
photograph, and the letters brought
from the murder~ bungalow.

Collectively, they fitted the pattern
of idyllic though frustrated love that
Gleason had drawn of the case.

The ownership of the gun that had
been used to kill the beautiful young
girl remained to be proved. Whether
the phonograph and records were the
girl’s or her admirer’s could not be
determined at the moment.

If the man in the photograph was
Girard, this showed that the girl was
still sweet on him. And another per-
son, seeing the picture there in Gir-
ard’s absence, could have gone sud-
denly berserk.

But perhaps the photo was that of
some new admirer. In that case, it
= have been Girard who resented
it.

The only mystery about the letters
was who had brought them to the
bungalow. If it had been Dorena her-
self, then it could have been, as Adams
said, a “kiss-off.” Girard not only was
getting his love notes back, he was also
on the receiving end of a “brush.” The
suitor might not have liked that.

But if some third party had stum-
bled across the notes and learned that
Dorena and Girard were at the bunga-
low, he or she could have caught up
with the girl when Girard was away.

Adams broke into the sheriff’s rev-
eries. “Rossi traced that call,” he said.
“It came from a hotel in Fresno. I
called the place, but they have no one
named Girard registered.”

Gleason checked his watch against
the wall clock. “It’s 120 miles,” he
said, “but, you’ve still got time to run
down there and look around. We'll
keep you informed on anything we
learn up at this end.”

Adams was heading his car south-
east out of Oakland when Morris and
Radruch came in to report.

“The San Jose police checked the
address on 11th Street,” Morris told
the sheriff. “Dorena Hammer lived
there for a while last fall while she
was attending the San Jose State Col-
lege. Her landlady says she went up
to Oakland before Christmas.”

“Do you know where?”

“Maybe, if the information is cor-
rect. At the time Dorena said she was
registering at the Boeing School of
Aeronautics, at the Oakland airport,
for a meteorology course.”

“Good run out to the Boeing School
and see what they can tell you.”

As this pair was about to leave,
Gleason stopped them. “You said this
Hammer girl was living in San Jose
temporarily. Know where she hails
from?”

“Yes,” Morris replied. “At least, she

DIRGE FOR

DORENA

(Continued from page 19)

told her landlady something about
coming from Glendale.”

The sheriff whistled, since Glendale
was a suburb of Los Angeles, 300 miles
to the south. “Maybe the Glendale
police can find her folks and discover
why she left home,” he said.

Gleason dispatched a wire advising
the authorities in Dorena Hammer’s
home town about the crime. He asked
for all the information they could dig
up far him.

Morris and Radruch quickly con-
firmed the fact that Dorena Hammer,
19, was a student at the Boeing School,
but they also learned she hadn’t been
in attendance since Wednesday, July
15. She lived with a family in Oak-
land.

She was a studious girl, from what
the officers discovered, and popular
with other members of her class. But
she never showed any particular in-
terest in any of the male students so
far as the school authorities knew.

Her landlady reported that she had
last seen Dorena late on the afternoon
of Wednesday, July 15.

“Some man drove her home,” the
woman said. “Dorena was only here
about ten minutes. Then she left with
a suitcase and a box.”

“Did you know the man?” Deputy
Morris aked.

The landlady shook her head. “T

, didn’t even see him. He sat out in the

car—a big sedan. Dorena told me he
was her cousin.”

“Did she ever mention a man named
Girard to you?”

“No. I never heard the name. She
had a beau named Jay Barker. He used
to come around here and take her out.
I’m sure he’s a student up at the
Boeing School.”

This seemed to be a contradiction
of what the school authorities said,
but the officers knew they might not
have been fully aware of the girl’s
social activities.

“How was Dorena acting when she
was here last?” Morris asked.

“Very jolly,” the landlady replied.
“She told me she was relieved about
something; it was as if a great weight
had dropped from her mind.”

The officers asked to see the girl’s
room. As the landlady conducted them
up the stairs to the second floor, she
suddenly became apprehensive. “Has
anything happened to Dorena?” the
woman asked.

Morris was noncommittal. “We
don’t know yet,” he replied.

But once in the girl’s room, he
spotted a photograph on the dresser.
It was a young girl in a smiling pose.
“Who is that?” he inquired.

“Dorena,” the landlady replied. “A
beautiful picture.”

Morris nodded. “Then something
has happened to your roomer,” he
said. “We found her murdered this
morning.”

The landlay stiffened and went pale.
“Oh, the poor girl!” she cried. “Who
did it?”

“That is what we are trying to find
out,” the deputy said.

There was nothing in the room that

provided a clue, but the woman added
a vital fact to the information she had
already given. :

“That Barker boy was very jealous
of Dorena,” she said.

“Maybe that’s the answer,” Radruch
said. ‘“We’re planning to see him
right off.”

ARKER was at his home, an ad-

dress supplied at the school,
when the officers called. He glared
at them blankly.

“Dorena Hammer?” he repeated
when they asked him about the girl.
“I haven’t seen her for a week. We
had a date for this week-end, but she
wrote me a note and said she couldn’t
keep it; she had to go away.”

“She told you in that note where
she was going?” -

“Sure. San Leandro.”

Morris took time to think this over.
“You own a car, son?” he asked.

Barker nodded. “A _ convertible.”

“Such a car was seen at a tourist
cabin in San Leandro Wednesday.”

The youth seemed puzzled. “I
wasn't there,” he said testily. “I had
classes that day. My car was parked
out at the airport.”

“Don’t lose your temper,” Radruch
said. “There are lots of convertibles.
When did you see the girl last.”

Barker needed time to think. “On
Wednesday, July 8,” he finally replied.
“We went driving, and something was
bothering her. We had dinner and
parked later up in the Berkeley hills.
I wanted to take her dancing, but she
said she wasn’t in the mood for it.”

Morris cut in. “Did she tell you
what was up?” ~ :

“She asked me a funny question.
She wanted to know if it was wrong
for a girl to tell a man she didn’t love
him any more.”

“Know whom she meant?”

The youth looked embarrassed. “I
think so. It was some fellow from
Glendale she’d been running around
with—accepting his presents and go-
ing off with him week-ends. She told
me all about it. He placed her in a
difficult spot.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, he wanted to get her out of
Glendale—a family fuss, or something
—so he sent her to San Jose. Lately,
it seems things quieted down in Glen-
dale and he wanted her back. I pleaded
with Dorena not to go to San Leandro,
but she refused to listen to me. She
was determined to go!”

It appeared to Morris and Radruch
that Jay Barker was doing a lot of
talking about another man and not
enough about himself. Could it be he
was trying to divert their attention to
this Glendale suitor!

“We've been told you’re pretty jeal-
ous,” Morris suddenly said.

Barker colored. “Where it concerns
Dorena—yes! I tried hard to stop her
from going to San Leandro.”

Radruch rubbed his chin. “When
you failed,” he suggested, “you went
down there for a showdown?”

The youth swung around to him.
“IT wasn’t there!” he snapped. “I’ve
told you that. Say, what is this all
about, anyway?”

It was then that they told him. Jay
Barker’s face took on an expression
of stunned amazement. “Dead?” he
blurted. “Good heavens!”

In a few seconds, his_ attitude
changed to belligerency. “Then that
other fellow did it to her—the one
she was ditching!” he snapped heat-
edly. “I'd like to lay my hands on——”

“Save it,’ Morris ordered. “You'd

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55


URDERERS have been known, for reasons usually
ascribed to fastidiousness or unwillingness to
have an outsider view their handiwork under
unfavorable conditions, to arrange the bodies of their
victims with tender care. Such a killer, apparently,
was the person who shot to death the beautiful young
brunette found lying in the immaculate tourist bun-
galow on the outskirts of San Leandro, California.

“Yeah, this is about the neatest killing I ever saw,”
said Alameda County Sheriff H. P. Gleason when he
pushed into Cabin 10 at the auto
court that July 17.

An anonymous informant had
called the Oakland police around
four A.M. and said there was a body
in the cabin. The caller was a man
whose voice was edged with tense-
ness. He promptly hung up when
police asked him to identify himself.

The cream-colored venetian
blinds were drawn when Gleason
entered. But as they were opened,
and sunlight flooded the room, gasps
of astonishment went up from the
group of officers huddled in the
doorway.

The young girl was stretched out
full length on a double bed, her
hands clasped over her breast in an
attitude of repose. Had it not been
for the tiny blue hole in the side of
her head and another below the
shoulder, they would have thought
she was sleeping.

Alongside the bed was a table on
which was a vase with an attrac-
tively arranged cluster of red car-
nations. Leaning against the vase
was a photograph of a good-look-
ing clean-cut man about 35.

On the floor, against the far wall,
sat an expensive portable phono-
graph and some symphonic records.
One was on the turntable—an or-
chestral arrangement of Debussy’s
romantic nocturne, “Claire de Lune.”

Jewelry worn by the victim when she died.
The hearts were solid gold and the inscrip-
tion in the ring read, ‘To Dorena from Les."

irge for

AMAZING DETECTIVE, January, 1919.

The needle had stopped on an inside groove of the
record.

Not far from the phonograph were a suitcase and
a shoe box. The former contained feminine wearing
apparel; the latter a quantity of personal correspond-
ence. -

The bungalow was divided into a three-room apart-
ment. In addition to the bedroom-living room, there
were a kitchenette and a bath. These, too, were neat
as a pin.

The proprietor of the tourist court said a man and a
woman had arrived on
Wednesday evening and
registered as Mr. and
Mrs. Lester B. Girard.
“At least, that’s the way
I was able to make out
his signature,” the man
added. He assigned
them to Cabin 10.

ae ¢ | F
Ode. ie and;

THE LOVE SONG THAT PLAYED ON AND ON, LONG
AFTER DEATH CLOSED LOVELY DORENA'S EARS TO
EVEN "CLAIRE DE LUNE," THE MOST POIGNANT
OF TUNES, WAS THE CLUE TO THIS KILLER—A
STRANGE, MYSTIFYING CLUE THAT COULD

‘BE INTERPRETED IN MANY WAYS .. .

aa ea pleaded with Dorena not to go to San

*y- ‘> Leandro, but she refused to listen to any-

+> thing | said. “She. was determined to go!"
(Specially posed)

BY JOHN S. THORP

*xiqdse ‘oqtym **q ettseq “yEmITD

‘2g Axenuee ue

°C i


KILLER: The philandering Romeo who was afraid to live
with the girl and who couldn't manage to live without her.

Sees
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The doomed killer carries his portable phonograph into
San Quentin where he continued to play his beloved
record—the record that was Dorena‘s requiem, and his
—until the moment that he walked that “last mile.”

During Thursday, he had seen the man around the
place. What he thought was a radio played inces-
sently, mostly one tune over and over. Gleason pressed
the starter of the phonograph, and the soft strains of
“Claire de Lune” poured forth from the speaker.

“That's it!” the proprietor said. ‘He almost drove
me nutty with that thing. It kept going hours at a
time.”

Gleason looked at the registry card. To him, also, the
scrawled signature looked like ‘Mr. and Mrs. Lester
B. Girard.”

But the girl on the bed wore no wedding band—only
a colored stone ring resembling a sapphire and a
pendant necklace with two solid gold hearts attached.
There was an inscription in the ring, reading: “To
Dorena from Les.”

“That’s her name, all right, Chief,” said Deputy
Dick Condon, who had been inspecting the shoe box
full of mail. “Every one of these letters is addressed
to her—Miss Dorena Hammer, South 11th Street, San
Jose. They’re all signed ‘Les.’”

The sheriff went over and scanned the mail, all of
which seemed to be written in the same torrid vein.
He selected at random a note and read: “Dorena, my
darling, Humble words could never express how I
love you, how I adore you. Always remember that.
Your Les .. . September 15, 1941.”

The sheriff let the note flitter back toward the box.
“Hmm,” he mused.

Meanwhile, Criminal Deputy Harry Adams was
combing the neat death suite for clues. Under the bed,
he found a .25 caliber automatic pistol and three
ejected shells.

“A cute little toy,” he told Gleason, handling the
weapon gently in his handkerchief, “but as deadly as
any at close range. From the size of that hole in her
temple, I’d say this gun did the job.”

Gleason nodded. ‘Looks like the sort of thing a
woman would be toting around,” he ventured.

- “Sure,” Adams replied. “Either the dead girl her-

“LES” had never heard of the admonition "Don't put it
in writing!" to judge from this and dozens of other
passionate love letters which filled Dorena's shoebox.

The young couple who rented a cabin in this San Leandro
auto court, played one record over and over until, as
the proprietor said, "It almost drove me nutty.” But
he didn't know until later that this was music for nvarder.

self or someone who didn’t like her worth mentioning.”

The sheriff picked up the man’s picture. “This could
be Girard,” he said, “but there’s no inscription.”

“A nice looking guy,’”’ Adams conceded. “Judging
from those letters, he and Dorena were pretty lovey-
dovey.” é

Gleason looked back toward the letters., “Why
would the girl be carrying them around in a shoe box?”

Adams shrugged. “Maybe this meeting was the
kiss-off,” he said. “She could have been handing ’em
back with a ‘No more of the same, thanks.’ ”

“Or somebody found those notes and came over here
for a showdown.”

“Possibly. Maybe Girard was married to some
other dame. Or Dorena could have been cooling off
on him with somebody else—and that somebody else
didn’t know about Girard until just recently.”

Gleason thought back to the anonymous phone call
which the Oakland police were trying to trace. “Think
Girard gave the tip?” he asked.

“Could be. He may have left his sweetie here alone
and came back and found her dead. He preferred to
phone in his information so as not to get mixed up ina
scandal.”

“You don’t think Girard is his real name?”

“T have my doubts.”

“Who do you think kept playing that phonograph
record?”

Adams shrugged. “I couldn’t begin to guess. If it
was Girard, then he was sounding off with a requiem
to a lost love. If somebody else was doing it, it could
have been for the same reason. Or maybe.it was an
act of derision. The piece could have meant some-
thing to Dorena and Girard. A third party could have
been figuratively thumbing his or her nose at the girl
—with music.”

The medical examiner arrived, and Gleason and
Adams left him with the body and went out to ques-
tion the residents of the other bungalows. A number
of them had heard “Claire de Lune” being played over
and over on Wednesday and Thursday. And on Thurs-
day they had noted a convertible car in front of
Cabin 10.

“Did the ‘Girards’ arrive in a convertible?” the
sheriff asked the auto court proprietor.

The man shook his head. “No. A sedan. And I

VICTIM: Dorena Hammer isn't the first pretty teen-ager
who paid with her life for stepping outside the moral code
society lays down for the protection of just such giris.

haven’t seen it leave. It could be in the garage at-
tached to the cabin.”

When Gleason and Adams looked, the garage was
empty. The sheriff asked the neighbors if they had

seen Girard’s machine pull out, but no one had.

A igee girl had been found dead on Friday, July 23,
1942. According to the medical examiner, she had
been killed sometime Thursday, or about the time the
convertible was seen at the bungalow. It was around
that time, too, that the phonograph was blaring out its
doleful melody. So the convertible, the music, and
the murder seemed to go together.

There were three bullet holes in Dorena Hammer’s
body—in the left temple, left breast, and under the
left armpit. But Gleason and Adams weren’t able to
find anyone who had heard the shots. They suspected
why, looking at the phonograph again and noting that
the volume was turned up. :

Gleason, back in his office, set the wheels of his in-
vestigative machinery in motion, using Adams, Deputy
J. H. Morris, and Detective Hugo Radruch, the latter
being attached to the office of the Alameda County
district attorney.

“Sergeant Rossi of the Oakland police got that
anonymous call this morning,” the sheriff told Adams.
“He was checking with the operator to find out where
it came from. Get in touch with him and see what
he’s learned.” (Continued on page 54)


—e |

rst taste of summer heat.
ed dinner time Westerns
ackfired, Chief Dearborn
s° unnoticed under such

‘ation bore out the time
id more than an hour,”
‘a Instantly, The wound
caliber bullet. Scratches

girl was fighting with

search for the killer in
vas found. The trail of
ubbery 100 yards from

ant Gault said. “Who-
those bushes while he
of time for him to get

ce all they could about
from an employment
€ woman told Chief
ese days, so we won-
d want to be a maid.”
phone calls and mail.

‘ne employer Stated.
rstand she had come
he hadn’t been here
phone calls she had
who made the calls,
* 1S an extension ih

- Now that I re-
gave her permission
© work,”
seen the old fash-
irl’s hand, A Search
3, but there were

n address in New
ad been forwarded
1 a few sent direct
‘Te Passionate love

‘ying affection for

‘Meved the letters
The weakness was
1 all were signed

arters and study
tence lab can tel]
iple of men ques-
* somebody saw a
will have to be
@ wound,”
ployment agency
complete file on

°>n told Beatrice
led little beyond

1 @ resident of

Orchal, inelud-
ut applications,

vith him. “This
e told the ser.
le one who did
and maybe he
ty didn't want
1 Betty used a
»d on Page 66]

TLATIAD Parnes /Vj

Si Sn Nan 3 ee ee

adie a ahlaies aehiodel gah emae

For three movie-struck beauties who turned to posing as the key toa

career, it only opened the door to a desert grave

E PINUP GIRL MURDERS

Wildly, police say, this man told them how
he raped each of his victims and used same
rope to strangle them. Lorraine Vigil, 27,
holds her throat, which he tried to choke
before she grabbed his gun and was rescued.

Te classified pages of Los Angeles news-
papers daily carry scores of ads in which “pinup
and figure models” offer their services for posing
in private and in groups. They have been run-
ning for a long time, so they must get results.
In somewhat similar vein are the “lonesome

heart club” ads, a typical one reading:

LONESOME TONIGHT?
Looking for a nice date?
For every man there’s a woman.
And vice versa

Movie struck girls apparently still feel that
because Marilyn Monroe parlayed a nude pose
into a Hollywood contract, that’s the formula
to use. Inexperienced girls—some of them still
in their teens—display their firm young bodies
in the long’ shot hope that the “arty” photos of
themselves will somehow find their way into the
hands of a talent scout.

But the odds are against it. It’s a known fact
that most of these nude photos will eventually
be sold from under the counter in a newsstand,
be peddled around schools, for sexual degen-
erates and excitable schoolboys to leer at and

>

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Glatman denied having killed any
other women. Lieutenant Jones and
other officers hastened down from Los
Angeles, and in the pre-dawn hours of
October 31st, as the full Halloween moon
sailed over the Vallecito Mountains, the
manacled killer guided a motorcade of
Los Angeles County, Orange County,
and San Diego County officers and
newspapermen to the two murder
scenes in Anza Desert, Unerringly Glat-
man pointed out the exact spots. The
bleached bones of Shirley Ann Bridge-
ford and Ruth Rita Mercado were found
among the boulders.

By the time the official caravan got
back to Los Angeles that Halloween
Friday morning, detectives of half a
dozen other Southern California juris-
dictions were waiting to question Har-
vey Glatman about unsolved strangula-
tion murders and disappearances of
women, and a sheaf of telegrams from
various parts of the country brought
similar requests.

The Wilshire detectives obtained a
warrant to make a more thorough search
of Glatman’s apartment. Among other
items, they now discovered and brought
down to headquarters a locked toolbox
which was found to contain macabre
photostrip albums depicting the agonized
last moments of his three victims. They
also found Ruth Mercado’s ID papers,
and articles of women’s underclothing.

Judy Ann Dull’s former roommate,
Lois Lee,. and Sally Bridgeford’s rela-
tives viewed photos of the murder mon-
ster and identified him positively. Still
another Hollywood model, an attractive
25-year-old cover girl, came forward to
relate how Glatman had called at her
apartment about a week after Judy Dull
vanished. Harvey was annoyed because
her manager was present, and she didn’t
like his sloppy appearance and turned
down his request for a modeling ap-
pointment “on location” somewhere out
in the country.

Sheriff’s Homicide Sergeants James E.
Wahlke and Jack Lawton took Glatman
out to Riverside County, where he
pointed out the exact spot near Thou-
sand Palms where Judy Ann’s body had
been found, and reenacted the slaying.

With Central Homicide Captain Ar-
thur G. Hertel and Lieutenant George
Puddy of the crime lab supervising fur-
ther interrogation, the jug-eared mon-
ster submitted to another prolonged ses-
sion on the lie detector at Los Angeles
headquarters.

During this polygraph session, he was
quizzed about other unsolved murders
in the Hollywood area in 1957 and 1958,
and that of an unidentified girl about 20
years old, whose nude and battered
body was found in a canyon near Boul-
der, Colorado, in April, 1954. He also
was questioned about similar unsolved
crimes in St. Petersburg, Florida, and
Tijuana, Mexico.

But now that he had unburdened
himself of the three ghastly sex killings,
Harvey Glatman seemed relaxed. He
answered questions readily and_ the
questioners were satisfied he was telling
the truth and had no other murders on
his mind. He gave more details of the
sadistic murders of the three young
models.

He showed no remorse as he talked,
expressed no regret for the enormity of
his crimes, nor any real sympathy for
his victims or their families. He still
insisted he had killed the three young
models because he feared they would
have him arrested for raping them; but
it was evident to the experienced homi-
cide men that Harvey Glatman had de-
rived twisted emotional satisfaction from
each of the murders.

When this lie detector test was over,
the police announced: “There is no in-
dication that this man is implicated in
any other crimes. He seems willing to
discuss the three murders in a straight-
forward manner. He indicates he is
willing to take the consequences, which
he realizes will be extreme.” _

“I’m in as deep as I can get,” Glat-
man commented. “Aren’t three killings
enough?”
eaten do you feel?” newsmen asked

im.

“Pretty good. I’m glad it’s over.”
Discussing his eventual fate with
newsmen, Glatman said somberly, “I
feel I’ve got the death penalty coming.
I welcome death because life behind
bars is a terrible thing. I can never do
life in prison. I’ve been in prison be-
fore, and time in prison comes hard.. I
know. I’m afraid of the future,” he
added, “but I’m not afraid of death.
I’ve wanted to kill myself for.a long
time, but I haven’t had the guts. Now:
the law will do it for me.”

A suicide watch was placed over him
in his cell, but jail officers reported he
“sleeps like a baby” and seemed calm,
almost contented.

While the investigation was being
wrapped up, the Los Angeles district
attorney formally charged Harvey Mor-
ris Glatman with three counts of mur-
der and one of kidnaping, and he was
arraigned in Municipal Court. After a
three-county conference to decide juris-
diction, it was agreed to turn the murder’
monster over for prosecution to San
Diego County, where Shirley Bridgeford
and Ruth Mercado had been slain and
the case against Glatman was most
clear-cut. , :

The Los Angeles holding charges were
dismissed and Harvey Glatman was
taken in chains to San Diego, where Dis-
trict Attorney Don Keller already had
filed formal charges in the two murders,
Arraigned on November 21st before Su-
perior Judge John A. Hewicker, Glat-
man pleaded guilty to the murders .of_
Shirley Bridgeford and Ruth Mercado,

Glatman’s attorney petitioned Judge
Hewicker to set aside his plea and sub-
stitute a plea of not guilty by reason of
insanity.

But Harvey himself opposed this
move. “My actions justify my previous
plea,” he said. “I would rather be exe-
cuted than spend the rest of my life
behind bars.” :

The judge appointed Dr. Carl E. Leng-
yel, chief psychiatrist of the county hos-
pital, to examine the defendant. After’
making the examination, the doctor re-
ported that in his opinion Harvey Glat-
man was legally sane.

“This man,” Dr. Lengyel told the
court, is submitting his report, “has al-
ways felt inferior to the opposite sex
and could get real pleasure only in feel-
ing dominant. He could feel so only in
situations where the partner in his sex-
ual activity was helpless.”

Judge Hewicker then rejected the in-
sanity plea and allowed the guilty. plea
to stand. A three-day hearing followed,
during which Harvey Glatman’s two-
hour tape-recorded official confession
was played back and a number of wit-
nesses testified. Among these were rel-
atives of the victims and Betsy Bell,
whose desperate fight for her life re-
sulted in the arrest of Harvey Glatman.

During this hearing the district at-
torney also introduced a grim exhibit
considered unprecedented in criminal
annals. This was the collection of 22
photographs, taken by Harvey Glatman
himself, which had been found in his
room, showing Judy Ann Dull, bound
and gagged, in the killer’s apartment,

and show):
Ruth Merc:
desert.

On Decc
sentenced !}
die in the ,
Prison. In
tence, as «
this story, .
I heard th
the defend
girls, I was
to hear suc

Later GI;
emotion as
insisted tha
in his behe ,
had to com
court. On i
torney repo:
move to be

Wasi
Missin

though,” Gr
“In that c:
“maybe you’:
station for
bring along ;
From Chie
Oss made i
Greer waitec
to Randall |
come to the
his car. TT
_ Dewey Rein:
Sheriff’s ofii
briefed Rei.
ing person c:
sheriff himse)
tion Greer.
By the tim
16 miles fro:
mah, Randalj
increasing th
order cook k:
ployer’s wher«
car “looked |

. stopped for ¢

Monday morr
Positive” that
‘hind the whe
_“You’re sur:
picked her up,
informed of t)
know a thing
in the countr
downtown, an
saw me.”
Under quest
early Tuesday
by his story. 1

~ the fact that

of foul play, ‘
sonally convin

- fortune had s

that she had n
later proven }

Homicide is
among the 31.

County. In 1
his career ha
murder, But

ability to reco
as he talked
Deputy Oss
of the disappe
confronted w
human slaug!.
Whether T!
to be the man
remained to b

Three beautiful girls who had this in common: they all died the same way, after being ravished by the same man. Left
to right, Judy Ann Dull, 19, model, Ruth Rita Mercado, 24, strip teaser-model and Shirley Bridgeford, mother of two.

drool over. Obviously, this cannot be classified art.

And the lonely hearts ads? What do they promise? Noth-
ing more than they say—a man or a woman. That’s what
they can get for the reader. What kind of a man or what kind
of a woman is strictly a matter of chance.

It could be a nice guy or a nice girl as lonesome and bored
as the companion they are seeking. But then, too, it could
be a sex maniac, a degenerate, a thief or a confidence man,
or even a killer. .

And by the same rule of thumb that ordains that posing
in the nude seldom leads to Hollywood, it may also be said
that romance picked out of a hat is seldom lasting.

The results could be indeed tragic.

And three skeletons, bleached by the blistering sun and
picked clean by animals in the vastness of the Southern
California desert are proof of that. For those bones were all
that was left of three pretty Los Angeles women—two pinup
models and a lonesome divorcee—who had but one thing in
common. .

They all met the same man through the classified ads of
a newspaper. 7

There was Judy Ann Dull, a pretty blonde, light hearted
young girl and although only 19 the mother of a year-old
daughter. She had been posing for photographers as a teen-
age fashion model for some time and had turned to arty
posing to support herself and her child.

It was date in July, 1957, when a rather seedy looking man
dropped: around to her apartment at 1302 North Sweetzer
Avenue in the West Hollywood area. Judy’s roommate, Betty
Carver Bohannon, 19, answered the door.

The man identified himself as Johnny Glynn and told the
girls he had been referred to them by a modeling agency he
had called in answer to a newspaper ad,

He told Judy, “I’m a professional photographer and I
have a pinup assignment from a magazine. I'd like you to
pose over at my studio for two hours,” Betty Bohannon
recalled later.

“The fee is $20 an hour,” reminded Judy and the man
mumbled that it was all right with him. Then Judy told him

>

she was busy that night and asked him to come back in
two days. :

He did return on August 1, 1957, to pick up Judy and he
acted strangely. He followed her from room to room and he
told her to wear street clothes.

“There was something about him that gave me a creepy
feeling,” Betty added. “He was dirty and looked as if he had
slept in his clothing. And he stuttered when he talked.

“Judy had told me that ‘this was to be her last modeling
job. She was estranged from her husband and was afraid
that if it came out in court that she had been posing in the
nude it would hurt her chances of getting her little daughter.

“I remember the day just as well as if it were yesterday.
Judy had plans to get a job as a clerk in a dime store the very
next day, :

“Before she left with this fellow Glynn I told her I thought
she was making a mistake. But she just laughed and told
me, ‘Sure he’s a creep but $40:is $40.’ And she walked out
the door with him, It was 2 p.m.

“And I never saw her again.”

The second skeleton whitening on the desert was that of
Mrs. Shirley Ann‘ Bridgeford, a 24-year-old divorcee and
the mother of two sons, Ricky, 6, and Billy, 4. She had been
divorced from her husband, Gene, for four years.

Living with her parents in the San Fernando Valley, she
had been going steady with a man who lived near her for
more than a year. But the romance broke up in December
1957 when Shirley Ann’s boy friend married someone else.

From Christmas, 1957 until March 1958, Shirley Ann
seldom left the house except to go to work. She was devoted
to her two children and helped her mother around the house
in a desperate attempt to cure the ache of loneliness.

Finally on March 2 she took a step she never thought she
would take. She answered an ad by a Lonely Hearts Club.
She registered and was told that her name and address would
be furnished to carefully screened male members.

A day or so later a man phoned Shirley Ann and asked for
a date. But the young divorcee hesitated momentarily and
turned him down.

Th
tifiec
a date for S
Mrs. Brid;
came to the
were there <
“Shirley c
And he rep!
the family ;
he was a ph
Mrs. Brids
bert, took p:
looking date
ears.
Shirley A
going toa d
When Shirl:
mother calle
her becauss
Mrs. Jolliffe
The third
desert was }
strip teaser \
her income.
a well appoi
stone’s throv
She had +
carried on }
Angela Roja
service, the
During th
inserting ad:
papers offeri
tographers
On July 2%
her, and th:
Miss Mercad
day€ later ar
In less the

Joann
fough


vas over,
is no in-
cated in
‘illing to
straight-
s he is
»s, which

t,” Glat-
killings

.en asked

ver him
‘ported he
ned calm,

‘as. being
es district
vey Mor-
; of mur-
id he was
i. After a
ride juris-
he murder
yn to San
3ridgeford
slain and
was most

arges were
tman was
where Dis-
ready had
‘o murders.
before Su-
cker, Glat-
murders of
h Mercado.
ned Judge
‘a and sub-
yy reason of

posed this
ny previous
her be exe-
of my life

arl E. Leng-
county hos- |
dant. After
2 doctor re-
{arvey Glat-

1 told the
ort, “has al-
ypposite sex
only in feel-
‘ so only in
‘in his sex-

ted the in-
guilty, plea
ng followed,
iman’s two-

confession
nber of wit-
sse were rel-
Betsy Bell,
her life re-
vey Glatman.
. district at-
‘rim exhibit
in criminal
iection of 22
vey Glatman
found in his
Dull, bound
‘5 apartment,

Ss <P ATTS

aieas > Wreroeery

%

,

and showing Shirley Bridgeford and
Ruth Mercado, similarly bound, in the
desert.

On December 17th Judge Hewicker
sentenced Harvey Morris Glatman to
die in the gas chamber at San Quentin

Prison. In pronouncing the death sen- -

tence, as quoted at the beginning of
this story, Judge Hewicker said, ““When
I heard the tape recordings in which
the defendant told how he killed those
girls, I was shocked. I hope I never have
to hear such testimony again.”

Later Glatman, who had displayed no
emotion as he listened to the sentence,
insisted that he wanted no appeals made
in his behalf. But a mandatory appeal
had to come before the state supreme
court. On that occasion Glatman’s at-
torney reported that Glatman wished no
move to be made to save him from the

death penalty.

And Glatman himself wrote a letter
to the court, asking that the appeal be
dismissed. “It was my own fault,” he
said in his letter. “I only want to die.”

His wish was granted on September
18, 1959, when Harvey Morris Glatman
calmly entered the small green-walled
execution chamber at San Quentin. He
sat quietly in the chair, awaiting the
final action of the cyanide pellets. ¢¢¢

Eprror’s NOTE:

The names, Lois Lee, Rose Arden
and Betsy Bell, as used in the fore-
going story, are not the real names
of the persons concerned. These per-
sons have been given fictitious names,
to protect their identities.

Was Dolores
Missing—or Slain?
(Continued from page 51)

though,” Greer volunteered swiftly.

“In that case,’ Chief Klumpner said,
“maybe you’d better come down to the
station for further questioning. And
bring along your car.”

From Chief Klumpner’s office, Deputy
Oss made two telephone calls while
Greer waited in another room. One was
to Randall West, whom Oss asked to
come to the station to view Greer and
his car. The second was to Sheriff
Dewey Reinstra in the Monroe County
Sheriff’s office at Sparta. Oss quickly
briefed Reinstra on the puzzling miss-
ing person case and suggested that the
sheriff himself might want to help ques-
tion Greer. ij

By the time Reinstra had driven the
16 miles from the county seat to To-
mah, Randall West had done his part in
increasing the suspicion that the short-
order cook knew something of his em-
ployer’s whereabouts. West said Greer’s
ear “looked like” the one which had
stopped for the woman near his home
Monday morning; and he was “almost
positive” that Greer was. the man be-
hind the wheel.

“You’re sure mistaken if you think I
picked her up,” Greer said coolly when
informed of the identification. “I don’t
know a thing about what happened out
in the country that morning. I was
downtown, and several people in stores
saw me.”

Under questioning hy Sheriff Reinstra
early Tuesday afternoon, Greer stuck
by his story. But despite his denials and
the fact that there was not yet proof
of foul play, Sheriff Reinstra was per-
sonally convinced that no natural mis-

. fortune had struck Mrs. Parkison and

that she had not run away. And he was
later proven right.

Homicide is not. a frequent occurrence
among the 31,000 inhabitants of Monroe
County. In fact, only once before in
his career had the sheriff encountered
murder. But that had not dulled his
ability to recognize it, and he was sure
as he talked to Greer and listened to
Deputy Oss reviewing the slim facts
of the disappearance, that he was being
confronted with his second case of
human slaughter.

Whether Thomas Greer would prove

to be the man he’d want in the long run

remained to be seen, and the sheriff was

not about to rush things. In more than
10 years as an outstanding lawman,
he had learned to move cautiously and
calmly, carefully plotting each step. And
as a county traffic officer, later as traffic
chief, and finally as sheriff for two terms,
he had found that the best way to handle
a reluctant suspect was to give him
a chance to “cool off” and think things
over.

Leaving Greer under guard in the
police station, Sheriff Reinstra quickly
organized a search party of deputies,
city police, and game wardens and or-
dered them to scour the wooded area
east of town where Mrs. Parkison was
last seen. He also enlisted a pilot and
airplane from radio station WTMB to
fly low over the less accessible back-
lands.

While the men diligently crisscrossed
the area, Reinstra and other officers
sought out mailmen, milkmen, truck
drivers, and other regular travelers of
the Town Line Road to ask if they had
seen the woman at any time after the
hour she was reportedly picked up
near Randall West’s home.

Disappointingly, both avenues of in-
vestigation proved futile. The search-
ers could unearth not even the slightest
clue that would aid in locating the van-
ished woman, and none of the drivers
questioned recalled seeing her on the
day in question. :

Early Tuesday evening, Reinstra
turned once again to Greer. Quizzed on
each minute detail of his story, the cook
still vehemently denied seeing Mrs.
Parkison after 2 a.m. Monday. But the
sheriff noted that the young man’s com-
posure ranged widely from absolute
coolness to extreme nervousness.

“I felt,” Reinstra explained recently,
“that he was going to tell us something
pretty soon.”

And he did. ,

Soon after darkness fell over the
area, according to police, Greer asked
to talk to Deputy Dale Trowbridge, a
county traffic officer whom Greer had
met at the Parkisons’ cafe. When Sheriff
Reinstra ushered Trowbridge into the
interrogation room, Greer said quietly:
“I want to go for a ride.”

The men ‘drove slowly through Tomah
streets in Trowbridge’s squad car. Then,
according to Sheriff Reinstra, Greer
suddenly started to talk. “I’ve got some-
thing to tell you, Dale.. I’d like to tell
the sheriff, but it’d be hard for me to
admit face-to-face that I lied to him, so
you'll have to tell him for me.”

“What is it?” Trowbridge asked.

“Well, I did see Dolores later Monday
morning. I was the one who picked her
up outside of town.”

“What happened?”

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Released after serving less than a

3 year, he went to Albany, New York,

where he was soon in trouble again,
jailed as Albany’s “Phantom Bandit”
who had robbed and terrorized three
women as they walked home from bus
stops in lonely areas. This got him a
5 to 10 year sentence. Paroled from
Sing Sing in 1951, he was discharged
from parole in 1956 and went West,

finally landing in California.

Glatman talked freely about his
old criminal history, but he was shifty
and evasive when quizzed about his
activities in Los Angeles during the
past year. That night, Sergeant Rios
dispatched an all-points teletype to
all California sheriffs’ and -police
agencies, detailing the circumstances
of Glatman’s arrest and asking if he
might be linked to any crimes in
other jurisidictions. It came to the
attention of Wilshire detectives next
morning, and they promptly inter-
viewed Betsy Bell, she had been re-
turned to Los Angeles.
Sergeants Jackson and Light se-
cured the full details of her expe-
rience. That afternoon, when Sergeant
Rios arrived in Los Angeles, they
went with him to Glatman’s apart-
ment and searched it. They found the
place plastered with pinup photos of
nude beauties, some picturing girls
bound and gagged in “torture” poses,
They found several one of sash
cord similar to that he had used on
Betsy, and a large collection of ex-
pensive photo equipment.
In Santa Ana the next day, Glat-

‘man glumly agreed to take a poly-

graph test. The Wilshire detectives
entered the room while the test was
in progress, and Sergeant Rios told

e suspect they’d come down from
Los Angeles to question him about
some missing girls. Significantly, . the
needle of the polygraph reacted
violently when the name “Angela”
was mentioned, and Glatman did not
hold out long.

“Okay, I killed that girl Angela
Rojas,” he said. “I killed a couple of
other girls, too. Give me a cigarette
and Tl tell you all about it. I was
going to tell you anyway, but I want-
ed to see how this machine worked.”

Minutes later, the jug-eared sus-
pect was pouring out to the tense
investigators one of the most appall-
ing mass murder confessions in Cal-
ifornia crime history. Harvey Glat-
man admitted that he was the abduc-
tor and killer of Judy Ann Dull,
Shirley Ann Bridgeford and Ruth
Rita Mercado. He was the long-
sought Johnny Glynn, he was ‘George
Williams, and he was Ruth Mercado’s

> unseen night visitor.

By his own admission, in each case
his motive was sexual assault. After
forcing the girls to submit to him at
gunpoint, Glatman disclosed he knew
he had to kill them because they
could identify him and his car. He
took them out to lonely desert areas
many miles from Los Angeles.

“I truly hated to kill those girls,”
he assured his interrogators, a barely
perceptible shade of regret in his
tone, “But it just had to be. My fear
of being caught was almost as great
as my compulsion toward women.
With each one I did it the same way,
with the same length of cord you
found in my car. I lured them out to
lonely places, on the pretext of taking
pictures before I let them go. I'd
make them kneel down and tie their
hands behind them. :

“Then I made them lie flat on
their stomachs, and Id tie their

ankles together with one end till they
stop Seine ag. tenge J didn’t suffer
much. None of them really knew I
was going to kill her—till' the last
few minutes.

“Angela pleaded with me at the
last minute, ‘Oh, God, don’t do it!’
Shirley Bridgeford said, ‘Please—
please! I have two children!’ Judy
didn’t say anything at all.

“Ive always been fascinated by
ropes, ever since I was a kid: Seems
to me I’ve always had a piece, of
rope in my hands,” he added.

In the case of Judy Ann Dull, whom
Glatman had picked. as a victim after
first intending to date Rose Arden,
the murder monster calmly related, he
drove the blonde model first to the
apartment where he then lived on
Melrose Avenue in Hollywood. There,
after snapping some nude poses, he
threatened her with his gun, tied her
hands, and raped her twice. Judy
pleaded with him to let her go and
promised to tell no one, but Glat-
man was afraid, he said, because she
could lead the police to ‘his apart-
ment. He decided he had to kill her.

After forcing Judy to sit watching
TV for several hours at gunpoint,
late that night he drove her out San
Bernardino Freeway to the desert
desert north of Indio, 130 miles from
Hollywood, keeping her quiet by
telling her he was going to release
her at some out-of-the-way point,
and then get out of California.:

Stopping in an isolated spot near
Thousand Palms, the killer recounted,
he took more pictures of her by
flashlight, then partially disrobed the
terrified girl, and strangled her with
the, rope. He scooped a_ shallow
grave because the spot was near the
highway. His account left no doubt
that the “Jane Doe” body found near

the spot in December was that of -

Judy Dull. The- lab men had erred
in estimating the age of the victim.
Shirley Ann Bridgeford had not

liked his looks, Glatman revealed, ©

and initially she balked at going with,
him. Instead of taking her to the
dance, he drove down the coast to
Oceanside, where’ he. parked and
tried to force his attentions on the
brunette divorcee. When she repulsed
him, he drove east to the edge of
San Diego County desert country,
over her protests. Finally, pulling his
gun, he forced her into the roadside
brush, tied her up, and raped her.
He killed Shirley Ann before -dawn
in Anza Desert State Park.

He forced the sobbing mother to
walk a quarter of a mile up a d
wash. She had to take off her high
heels to walk on: the rocks. He
snapped some pictures of her, then
killed her as he had killed Judy Dull.
He left Shirley’s body lying there,
fully clothed, merely strewing some
brush over it, he said.

Glatman played his most sadistic
game, he disclosed, with his third
victim, Ruth Mercado, _.whom he
knew as Angela Rojas. He had called
on her the night before, in response
to her newspaper ad. Ruth came to
the door in her robe and said she
was ill. On the night of July 23rd he
returned, but found the apartment
dark. He went to a nearby bar and
had a few beers, then went back and
saw that Ruth’s light was on.

When the Latin beauty hesitated
to admit him-at that late hour, he
pulled his gun and forced his way in.
He ordered her to. strip, tied her up,
and assaulted her several times. He
sat around for a while and took pic-

tures at leisure’ of his bound female
captive.

Then, in the wee hours of the
morning, he forced Ruth Mercado to
put on her robe and accompany him
to his car, which he had parked in
an alley. He told her they were going
out to the desert to take more pic-
tures. Again he headed for the wild
San Diego County area.

Glatman said he spent the entire
day in the desert with his victim. He

had brought food and drink along, as.

he always did. He took more pictures,
making his hysterical victim pose
nude on a blanket.

“She was the only one I really
liked,” Harvey ‘Glatman recounted
ruefully. “I didn’t want to kill her,
and I tried to figure a way out for
her, but I couldn’t come up with any
answer. So I finally got out the rope
and did it, the same as I did with
the others,’

Ruth Mercado was stripped to her
nylon panties when he killed her,

‘that second night in a lonely wash

near Carrizo Spring at the Impe-
rial County line, 32 miles farther
southeast down the old stage road
from the t where he had mur-
dered Shirley Bridgeford. He took
Ruth’s panties home with him as a
souvenir, Glatman said.

He denied having killed any other

SAY YES
TO THE NEW

‘women,

MARCH
OF DIMES

BIRTH DEFECTS ARTHRITIS + POLIO

In the predawn hours of October
31st, the manacled killer guided a
motorcade of newspapermen, and
officers from Orange, San Diego and
Los Angeles Counties, to the two
murder scenes in Anza Desert. Un-
erringly, Glatman pointed out the
exact spots. The bleached bones of
Shirley Ann Bridgeford and Ruth
Rita Mercado were found where he

“said they would be.

By the time the caravan arrived
back in Los Angeles that Halloween
Friday morning, detectives of half a
dozen other Southern California jur-
isdictions were waiting to question
Harvey Glatman about unsolved
strangulation murders and disap-
pearances of women, and a sheaf of
telegrams from various parts of the
country brought still more requests

for police interviews with the con-

fessed slayer.

The Wilshire detectives obtained.a
warrant for a more thorough search
of Glatman’s apartment. Among other
items, ay 4 now discovered and
brought to headquarters a locked tool
box which was: found to contain
macabre photo-strip albums depicting
the agonized last moments of his
three victims. They also found Ruth
Mercado’s ID papers and articles of
women’s lingerie.

Now that he had unburdened him-
self of the three ghastly sex killings,
Harvey Glatman seemed relaxed. He
answered questions readily, and most
of his questioners were satisfied he
was telling the truth. He spelled out
still more details of the sadistic

murders of the three Los Angeles area
girls. After another lie detector test,
a statement was issued which said,
in part:

“There is no indication that this
man is implicated in any other crimes.
He seems willing to discuss the three
murders in a straightforward man-
ner. He indicates he is willing to take
the consequences, which he realizes
will be extreme.”

There were some, however, who
entertained serious reservations on
the subject. Some officials had pointed
out that the polygraph is not in-
fallible; it can be fooled by certain
types of persons, psychopaths and
congenital liars, among others, who
can lie without the slightest twinge
of conscience and thus produce no
sign of a physiological reaction on the
polygraph needle. Glatman, during
his first time on the lie box, had in-
dicated he might be playing a game
with it when he said he wanted to
see how “this machine works.” He
was a stir-wise ex-con, a man who
had lived by his wits and broken
the law with impunity on repeated
occasions.

Was it not possible, some of the
skeptics asked, that he had confessed
only the crimes he wanted to con-
fess and, though guilty of more—
possible some of the unsolved killing
still plaguing officers of numerous
jurisdictions in California and else-
where—decided to let the authorities
worry about them ad infinitum?

That attitude would be typical of
a hardened criminal, the sort of pri-
vate joke he might enjoy taking with
him to his grave. For that is where
Glatman was headed, without any
doubt. ;

On November 21st, Harvey Glat-
man, in Superior Court in San Diego,
pleaded guilty to the murders of
Shirley Bridgeford and Ruth Mer-
cado. He opposed his attorney’s at-
tempts to have the plea set aside and
said, “I would rather be executed
than spend the rest of my life be-
hind bars.”

The judge ordered a mental ex-
amination for the accused man, and
when the lengthy psychiatric report
submitted weeks later indicated
Glatman was sane, Superior Judge
John Hewicker sentenced Harvey
Morris Glatman to die in the gas
chamber at San Quentin prison. Glat-
man heard his doom pronounced
without the slightest display of emo-
tion. He insisted he wanted no appeal
made on his behalf, but a mandatory
appeal had to be considered by the
state supreme court. His attorney told
that august body that Glatman
wished no move to be made to save
him from the gas chamber. Glatman
himself endorsed this statement with
a letter to the justices in which he
wrote:

“It was my own fault. I only want
to die.”

His wish was granted on Septem-
ber 18, 1959, when Harvey Morris
Glatman calmly entered the small,

reen-walled execution chamber at
an Quentin. He sat quietly in the
chair, awaiting the final action of the
cyanide pellets. He could not avoid
straining at his straps involuntarily
as the lethal gas assailed his senses,
but that was only momentary. A few
minute later the prison doctor pro-
nounced him dead. kk

The names Lois Lee, Rose Arden
and Betsy Bell, as used in the fore-
going story, are fictitions.

63

don’t care if I go to the gas chamber.”

Frantic, knowing instinctively that
her wild-eyed assailant meant what
he said, Betsy grabbed the muzzle of
the gun and turned it away from her.
They struggled furiously in the car
seat. Suddenly the gun went off with
a deafening bang. A slug tore through
the girl’s skirt and burned her thigh.

The man froze, as if suddenly par-
alyzed. “I’ve shot you,’ he said
dazedly, looking down at the gun in
his hand. ;

Almost out of her wits with terror,
reacting out of sheer instinct of self-
preservation, the little brunette seized
the moment to reach around him with

her free hand and open the car door ©

on his side. She shoved with all her
strength and they both tumbled out
onto the shoulder of the road.

But never for even a second did
the plucky little girl relinquish her
desperate hold on the gun. She man-
aged to turn around the tried to pull
the trigger, but she couldn’t manage
it. Her assailant was cursing wildly.
She grabbed his gun hand and sank
her teeth into his wrist.

With a howl of pain, he let go of
the gun. The girl turned it on him,

trying frantically to pull the trigger
as she scrambled to her feet.

In the desperate, life and death
struggle, both had forgotten the pass-
ing cars. Suddenly the scene was
bathed in a spotlight glare and a
gruff, official sounding voice demand-
ed: “What’s going on here?”

It was Officer Thomas F. Mulligan
of the California Highway Patrol, a
husky, 33-year old former semi-pro
football player. On his way home to
Costa Mesa on his motorcycle after
going off duty at Anaheim head-
quarters, he providentially had turned
down Tustin Avenue and spotted

the parked car and the struggling

figures.

“He’s trying to kill me! He’s crazy!”
the girl panted, running to the uni-
formed officer, the gun in her right
hand, the rope still dangling from her
left wrist. “I took this gun away from
him.”

Her assailant stood stock still,
staring at the sobbing girl in her dis-
arrayed clothes. “His eyes were big
as silver dollars,” Officer Mulligan
said later.

Then the jug-eared man walked
slowly toward them, his burning eyes

mm

still fixed on the girl. The officer or-
dered him to halt.

“Okay,” the man said quietly.

Later, at the Orange County sher-
.iff’s office in Santa Ana, after Betsy
Bell had been given emergency treat-
ment for bruises, scratches and the
bullet graze on her thigh, she told
deputies, “He’s a killer. I could see
it in his eyes. He’d have killed me

for sure if I hadn’t grabbed his gun .

and hung onto it.”

The scrappy little model unwitting-
ly had done precisely the right thing,
for by grabbing the gun by the barrel,
she had immobilized the slide action
and the automatic would not fire,
even if her assailant had tried to
pull the trigger.

Her assailant, meanwhile, had
identified himself as Harvey Morris
Glatman, a 30-year-old Los Angeles
TV repairman, a native of New York
City. He had $725 in cash in his
wallet and deputies found another
$200 under the floor mat of his car.
He said the money was savings from

“IT don’t spend much money,” he
said with a doleful smile. “I don’t go
many places.”

_his wages.

Also in the car were found a noosed
and knotted 5-foot length of sash
cord, like that with which he had tried
to tie Betsy’s wrists; an expensive
camera and other photo equipment,
including plenty of film; some sand-
wiches and a large thermos of hot
coffee, as though he was ready for a

long journey. The loaded automatic

was 7.65 mm. Belgian Browning type.

Glatman freely admitted the at-
tempted assault, said he had done it
on impulse, and he was sorry. He also
admitted he’d served prison time in
New York and Colorado. He was
booked on suspicion of assault with
a deadly weapon and attempted rape.

Under questioning the next day by
Sergeant Dan Rios and other officers
of the Santa Ana Sheriff's Investi-
gation Bureau, Glatman filled in de-
tails of his past life and criminal his-
tory. Born in New York City of
respectable, hard-working parents,
he was raised in Denver, Colorado.
He was arrested there at the age of
17 for a series of robberies which
involved molestation of women and
girl victims and was sentenced to one
to five years in a state prison for ag-
gravated robbery.

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ieee titeniatiaat darted tat acacia bans endian

g

oT

‘east an all-points bulletin carrying

the descriptions of Shirley and her.

escort. The 24-year-old brunette, a
.former factory worker, was de-
scribed as five feet five, 119 pounds,
with brown hair worn in a short bob,
blue eyes, slightly freckled complex-
ion, small scars under each ear. When
she went out on Saturday night she
was wearing a new blue-green dress,
high-heeled black suede shoes and a
full-length tan or beige wool coat.
Around her neck she wore a gold
chain with a pendant set .with green
stones. —

When another day had gone by
with no word from the missing di-
vorcee, the homicide officers took a
serious view of the case. No one
could be found who had seen Shirley
or her escort at the Western dance,
nor anywhere else on Saturday night.

The detectives interviewed and
eliminated a number of men named
Williams. They checked out Pasadena
plumbers. They conducted a tedious
canvass of some two score lonely
hearts clubs and similar date bureaus
in the Los Angeles area. They col-
lected scores of photographs of male
members who might fit the descrip-
tion given*by Shirley’s family, but
the latter could not find Mr. Williams
among them.

The missing girl’s family clung to
the frail hope that she might still
turn up safely, but after more than a
week of thorough, plodding detective
work, Sergeants Kealy and Ruble,
and their commander, Lieutenant
Ernest T. Johnson, were convinced
the brunette had met with foul play
at the hands of a rapist.

Further talks with the missing di-
vorcee’s family, the date club oper-
ator and the Hollywood secretary,
tended to clear up the discrepancy in
the descriptions of George Williams.
The witnesses conferred with police
artist Hector Garcia, who ally
turned out a likeness which all
agreed was the man they had seen.
It was considered possible, even like-
ly, that he had worn a false mus-
tache when he called for Shirley.

At this point there was nothing to
connect the suspected kidnaper with
the young photographer with whom
Judy Dull had vanished, though this
possibility was not overlooked. But
there were too many points of dis-
similarity in their descriptions, and
too few points on which the descrip-
tions agreed. Moreover, sex criminals
generally run to set patterns in their
manner of picking victims, and the
types of victims they prefer. There
were wide discrepancies on both
these points. The investigation con-
tinued, but no trace of Shirley Ann
Bridgeford was turned up.

Late in July the landlord of an.

apartment hotel on West Pico Boule-
vard in the Wilshire district of Los
Angeles wrote to the police to report
the disappearance of a young girl
tenant. She was Ruth Rita Mercado,
a 24-year-old dark-haired beauty of
Latin extraction, a former strip danc-
er who now, under the name of
Angela Rojas, modeled for photog-
raphers, principally in the nude. The
landlord had also written to Ruth’s
mother in New York state, and the
police chief of her city had asked L.A.
authorities to investigate.

Lieutenant Marvin Jones, day

.

~@

E Photo Gallery... (trom page 39)

watch commander of the Wilshire Di-

vision detectives, dispatched his
missing persons men, Sergeants Paul
A. Light and Eugene Danforth, to in-

terview the landlord. They learned
that the sultry young brunette had
been missing since the night of

Wednesday, July 23rd. The landlord

said he had passed her door about
9:30 that night and heard Ruth talk-
ing to her collie pup. There was a “Do
Not Disturb” sign on the door. In the
next few days, the landlord and his

‘wife didn’t see Ruth around and ~°

noted the mail Filing up in her box.
They respected her privacy and
waited four days before entering the
apartment. -

They found Ruth’s two parakeets
and her beloved collie pup, who was
shut up in the bathroom, near death
from lack of food and water. There
was no indication that the girl had
been home for days, but her clothing,
jewelry, luggage and her prized col-
lection of nude photographs, her
stock in trade, were all there.

Within the past few weeks there
had been two strangulation murders
of young women in the Wilshire dis-
trict and Lieutenant Erwin W. Smith,
detective commander, joined Lieu-
tenant Jones in taking a most serious
view of the model’s disappearance. .

“The tipoff,” Sergeant Light re-
ported, “is her leaving her pets to
starve. The landlord says she took
care of them as if they were babies.
She’d never have gone away and
left them like that, if she could help
ne

T he detectives brought a box full
of Ruth Mercado’s letters, business
records and other personal papers to
the station for examination. They dis-
closed she was originally from New
York state, had been a member of
the WAF, and had lived in Florida
before coming: to California in mid-
1957. After an interlude of strip tease
dancing and working for various Hol-
lywood photo studios for a while, she
went into business for herself as a
freelance model, specializing in nude
poses. She obtained her modeling as-
signments via newspaper ads. She
even kept a couple of cameras and a
stock of film on hand for aspiring
photographers who had no equipment
of their own.

The missing model was described

as five feet one inch tall, 110 pounds,
with dark brown lustrous hair and
brown eyes, medium complexion,
with small moles on her left cheek
and the left side of her chin.

In this instance, there was no de-
scription of any man with whom the
missing woman might have left her
apartment, but her letters and ad-
dress books provided detectives with
scores of Sead,

They questioned many of Ruth
Mercado’s friends, both men and
women, in ‘the taverns and cafes
around Pico and Crenshaw Boule-
vards, and elsewhere in Los Angeles
and Hollywood. Most of her male
clients knew her as Angela Rojas, the
professional name she used as a mod-
el. Also questioned were several men
who had dated her, and a psycholo-
gist she had consulted for a nervous
condition. The former were not con-
sidered suspects. The latter dis-
counted the possibility she might
have become a victim of amnesia. He

er ee

also ‘confirmed her devotion to her
pets, and said he considered it quite
impossible that she would have aban-
doned or neglected them of her own
volition. ‘

Lieutenant: Jones and Sergeants
Jackson, Light and Erbsen talked to
nearly 100 of the missing model’s
friends, clients and acquaintances.
Many were: investigated as possible
suspects, but had to be eliminated.
The officers checked out scores of
devious tips, traveled north as far as
Oregon and south as far as Mexico to
run down leads, but the weeks went
by with no progress in their probe.
And as the time passed, the Wilshire
detectives were convinced that Ruth
Mercado, also known as Angela Ro-
jas, was a murder victim.

In the meantime, after a series of
conferences with detectives who had
been working on the disappearances
of Judy Ann Dull and Shirley
Bridgeford, the homicide sleuths of
the various jurisdictions were begin-
ning to think in terms of the same sex
killer for all three missing girls.

At this point a new series of devel-
opements began to unfold. They be-
= at 9 o’clock on the night of Mon-

ay, October 27th, when a man rang
the bell of a small modeling agenc
on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood.

_The caller was a young man the wom-

an operator of the agency knew as
Frank Johnson, an amateur photog-
rapher for whom. she had posed for
pinup pictures once last summer, be-
fore she opened her own agency.

Johnson, a dark-haired, slender
man about 30 years old, asked her if
she could come over to his apartment
for some pinup shots. There was
something .about his taut, nervous
face, his large, intense eyes set be-
tween hs ag jug ears, his un-
kempt brown hair and his sloppy at-
tire that repelled the professional
model

But she didn’t want to refuse him
outright, so she said, “Okay, I'll come
if we can go in my car and take along

, a chaperone.”

Johnson didn’t like that idea at all.
He didn’t want any third person
along, and he wanted to go in his
own car. The agency operator
thought of Betsy Bell, a small, shape-
ly, raven-haired, 27-year-old Latin
girl who was anxious to get into the
modeling profession. Betsy, who came
from San Jose, had taken a modeling
course in San Francisco. She came
to L.A. in 1957 and went to work
as a stenographer accountant, but she
was determined to become a model.
She had answered the agency’s ad,
but had not. been given any modeling
assignments as yet. ;

So the agency operator called Bet-
sy, explained the job, told her she
had posed for Johnson before, and
asked if she wanted to take the
assignment. Betsy accepted, and
Johnson left. for the private home
where Betsy roomed in the Wilshire
district. When he had left the office,
the agency operator called Betsy
again and warned her to be on her
guard, saying there was something
about this photographer she didn’t

like.
The jug-eared man picked up
Betsy about 9:30 p.m., blowing his

horn and waiting outside in his black
two-door Dodge sedan instead of
coming up to her door. She asked him
for her $15 fee in advance as they
started out. He handed her $10 and
said he’d give her the balance later.

He started to drive east toward
downtown Los Angeles.

“This isn’t the way to the studio,”
Betsy pointed out. She had mis-
understood, and thought they were
supposed to go to the studio main-
tained by her agency.

“We're not going to her place,” the
man told her. “She has some other
people coming there. We’re going to
my studio, it’s down in Anaheim, but
it won’t take us long to get there.”

Betsy asked what sort of pictures
he was going to take, and for what
purpose. He didn’t reply. He turned
southeast on the Santa Ana Freeway
and stepped on the gas. They sped
through suburban Downey and Nor-
walk. The man hung onto the wheel,
staring straight ahead and saying
nothing in answer to the girl’s in-
creasingly nervous questions. He in-
creased the speed to a dangerous rate
as they crossed the Orange County
line. Terror gripped the girl as he
shot through Anaheim without slack-
ening speed, and raced on through
Santa Ana.

T hen, suddenly, the wild-eyed
driver slowed and turned down a
lonely, dark side road which Betsy
later learned was Tustin Avenue. He
stopped then, and killed his motor.

“T’ve got a flat tire,” he announced
in a taut, strained voice.

The pretty girl guessed what was
coming and was too terrified to be
surprised when the man pulled a
wicked looking little automatic.

“Okay, Betsy, now I want you do
as I say,” he told her in a tense,
cracking voice. “Do what I tell you,
and you won’t get hurt.”

She pleaded with him not to hurt
her. This angered him and he told her
he’d really hurt her if she didn’t shut
up. He was waving the gun menacing-
ly at her.

“Okay, I’ll do whatever you say,”
the girl blurted desperately, hoping to
placate him, to stall him perhaps, until
someone might come along to whom
she could scream for help. “I don’t
want to get hurt.”

He took a short length of rope from
his pocket, grabbed the terrified girl’s
left wrist and knotted the rope
around it. He tried to wrench her
right hand behind her back to tie
her wrists together.

“Please don’t tie me!” Betsy plead-
ed. “I'll do anything you want, if you
just don’t tie me. What do you want?”

He didn’t answer the question, but
said, “All right, just don’t give me
any trouble.” He was waving the gun
a few inches from her breast. “Don’t
argue with me. I can kill you any
time I want to.”

That did it. Betsy forgot about
stalling for time. She started scream-
ing at the top of her lungs and
banging on the car door. Other cars
were passing by, but none of the
drivers seemed to notice what was
going on.

The man beside her clapped a hand
over her mouth and clamped his other
arm around her neck. “People will
think we’re just necking,” he rasped.
He laughed as if he thought that was
a huge joke. “I could choke you right
now, if I wanted to,” he said.

He laid the gun on the car seat
and again tried to tie her hands, but
the wiry, 101 pound, five foot two
brunette fought him off and began
screaming again. He picked up the
automatic quickly.

“Tl kill you!” he snarled. “I’ve lost
patience with you! I’m an ex-con. I

61


slip of paper found under Nowlen’s
body. “We want samples of handwrit-
ing from you and Mr. Chips,” Oxnevad
said. “An expert will be able to tell
whether or not you wrote the address.”

Hinds’ forehead furrowed. After a
moment it cleared, and he smiled. “Say,
I'll bet I know what this is all about.”
He reached into his pocket and came
out with a notebook. “Was it written
on paper like this?”

The slip of paper was identical to that
in the notebook.

“Look. About three weeks ago,”
Hinds explained, “I met a guy in a bar.
He said he was giving a party and
wanted me to go to it. I asked him
where it was.”

“So you gave him your address to go
to a party he was giving?” Keene asked.

“T’ll explain that, if you'll give me a
chance,” Hinds said. ‘He said he'd
come by and pick me up. Only he never
came by.”

“Who is the fellow?”

“I don’t know. I only met him the
one time. When he didn’t show up, I
forgot all about it. I just happened to
think of it when you mentioned the ad-
dress being on a slip of paper.”

it Kees a punk story, Hinds,”’ Ox-
venad said. “You'll have to come
up with something better than that.”
“I can account for my time. I didn’t
have nothing to do with killing those
people.”
Hinds took the investigators to the

. bar where he claimed he had met the

stranger. The bartender knew Hinds
but was unable to recognize the vague
description Hinds gave of the man he
insisted had invited him to a party.

“What name did he give you?” Keene
asked.

“He just said his name was Joe.”

“And all you can remember is that
he was about forty years old, had dark
hair and was about six feet tall? A de-
scription that would fit a dozen men in
a walk down the street.”

Hinds was taken to the San Bernar-
dino sheriff’s headquarters. Longhetti
examined the notebook and compared
a slip of paper found under Nowlen’s
body with a part of a torn page. He
claimed they matched perfectly.

Hinds’ alibi for Saturday, Sunday
and Monday was carefully investigated
and the officers reported he could not
have been on the desert where the
bodies were found.

A query was sent to the Los Angeles
sheriff's office, officials in San Quentin
and authorities at Chino, asking if they
could come up with any information
that would link the ex-convict Hinds
and the escapee Nowlen.

“I think we can knock it off for to-
night and get some rest,” Bland told the
investigators at a conference late in the
evening. “Something ought to pop
pretty quick to identify the girl. Who-
ever she is, somebody is bound to miss
her.”

In the morning, Merle Leslie Reed of
Colton came to the sheriff's office. He
reported that he had been target shoot-
ing in the desert on Sunday afternoon.

“I’m sure I went by that place where
I read that the bodies of the man and
woman were found,” Reed declared.
“I remember seeing those pop bottles
set up for targets and a man and woman
lying on top of the asphalt pile. I didn’t
go near them because I thought they
were sleeping.”

Reed was taken out to the scene. He
stated positively that it was where he
had seen the couple on Sunday after-
noon.

HE investigators contacted Doctor

Modglin. He told them it was en-
tirely possible that the couple could
have died Saturday night or Sunday
morning. “They even may have been
killed on Friday night,” he added.
“With the heat from the sun and the

asphalt pile, which would keep the heat-

even during the chilly desert nights, it’s
impossible to establish the time of death
exactly.”

If Reed had seen the victims on Sun-

66

day, then they could not. have been in
the market -in Adelanto on Monday.
The grocer must have seen someone
else who resembled the couple. This
also would eliminate the two older men
he saw as suspects. . 2

A short time later, a.watchman who
had been guarding heavy equipment in
the area of the death scene was located.
He told the investigators he had driven
by the site early Saturday morning and
saw two men and a woman near the
asphalt pile. !

“TI figured maybe they had.driven off
the road to take a drink or something,”
he said. “There was nothing over there
to steal, so I didn’t bother them.”

HE watchman couldn’t describe the

persons he had seen.

Had the couple been killed Saturday
morning?

A telephone call came in for Sheriff
Bland from Sergeant William Eisen of
the Los Angeles County sheriff’s office.
“I may have a lead for you on those
desert killings.”

“We could sure use it.”

“Is it possible-the tattoo on the girl’s
‘leg could be Skene?” Eisen asked.

Bland put the question to Keene, who
told him the word was so indistinct that
the only legible letters were.the “Sk.”

“There’s a girl named Patricia Skene,
who had been married to a Wilford
Skene. They’re divorced, and he’s doing
a stretch now in the men’s section of
the Tehachapi Prison. We handed this
Patricia a stretch on a narcotics rap at

the Terminal Island women’s prison. °

She got out a couple of months ago.”

“We've got the victim’s fingerprints,”
Bland said. ‘We can soon find out.”

ares more to it than that,” Eisen
said.

He explained that Patricia Skene also
was known as Pat Hurley. She was the
sister of Ronald Hurley, who had es-
caped from Chino with Nowlen and
Skiba. °

“It all seems to tie in pretty well,”
Eisen said. ‘Do you want us to send
this Skene gal’s prints to you, or will
you come up and.get them?”

Keene said he and Oxnevad would

take the victim’s prints to Los Angeles.
He also requested the sheriff’s office
there to aid them in the investigation.

Fingerprint experts: with the Los An-
geles County sheriff’s. office quickly
identified the girl victim as Patricia
Skene.

The investigators reasoned that Hur-
ley must have given Nowlen the name
and address of his sister when the trio
fled from Chino. Possibly they had
planned to meet there; Hurley and
Skiba had been picked up before they
could make the rendezvous, but Now-
len had managed to elude capture.

Bet why had Nowlen and Patricia
been killed?

Where were they going when. they
were forced to kneel facing each other
on the asphalt pile to await death?

Immediately after the identification
Keene left for Chino to question Pa-
tricia’s brother, and Oxnevad drove to
Tehachapi Prison to question her for-
mer husband. He wanted to know
whether or not Skene had written the
letter found in Nowlen’s pocket, begging
the girl for a reconciliation. ;

Wilford Skene flatly denied writing
the letter. “Things have been finished
between Pat and me ever since the di-
vorce,” Skene claimed. “I’m sorry to
hear she got knocked off. She was a
good kid in her way, but I don’t know
nothing about it.”

He told Oxnevad he had heard that
his former wife had. been “chasing
around with some guys,” but he did not
know who they were.

At Chino, Patricia’s brother was
shocked and upset by the news that his
sister and Nowlen had been killed.

“What kind of a bum would kill Pat?”
he cried.

“I’m hoping you can tell me that,”
Keene said. ;

“How am I going to know anything,
locked in here?”

. ‘

“You guys know what’s going on
through the grapevine.”

“T didn’t hear anything about this.” .

Hurley admitted that he had given
Nowlen the name and address of his
sister. The trio had planned to meet
where She was living as soon as the

- “heat” cooled on their escape.

-He said their plans had been to pull
a few jobs in the Los Angeles area to
get a stake and then head up into Can-
ada and go east. “Only, me and Bob
Skiba didn’t make it,” he added.

“Do you know anybody who wanted
to kill Nowlen?” Keene asked.

Hurley shook his head.

“You aren’t holding out on me?”

“You think I'd hold out to protect
somebody who killed my sister?” ‘

Hurley claimed he did not know who

could have written the letter to Pat. He’

said he knew his sister had a number of
boy-friends, but since he was in prison
he did not know who they were.
“Where was she living?” Keene asked.
“Where was she going to hide you fel-

’ lows when you escaped?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“why?” ih

“It would get some: other people in
trouble.”

“We'll find out sooner or later.”

“Okay, you find out your way. But I
ain’t going to tell you. I got troubles:of
my own. A guy who talks around a
joint like this can find it rough going.”

Keene claimed that Hurley would not
tell. him where Patricia Skene had
hidden Nowlen during the weeks fol-
lowing his escape from Chino.

Keene and Oxnevad met back at the
Los Angeles sheriff's office, where Ser-
geant Eisen was waiting with news for
them.

“We just got a make on Nowlen for
the robbery of a cafe in Pasadena about
a week ago,” Eisen said. “The victim
picked out Nowlen’s mug picture. He got
close to a thousand dollars in the stick-
up.”

H4? the loot from the robbery been
the motive for the double slaying?
Had some friend the pair trusted killed
them for the money Nowlen was carry-

“Whether the money was the motive
or not, whoever killed them got it,”
Keene said. ‘“‘Nowlen’s wallet and the
girl’s purse. were missing when their
bodies were found.”

The officers looked up Patricia

Skene’s parents, who said that they

would arrange for the burial of their
daughter. , ’

“Patricia was a good girl, but she just
got in with the wrong crowd,” the tear-
ful mother said. “The last time I saw
her was more than a month ago.”

The investigators learned that Miss
Skene had been living in the Lennox
area and neighbors identified a photo-
graph of Nowlen as that of a man who
had moved in with her.

But they had moved out on Monday,
August 31, a full week before their
bodies were found on the asphalt pile
in the. desert,

Canvassing the bars in the area, the
detectives found a bartender who knew
Patricia and recognized the picture of
Nowlen as her “new boy-friend.”

“Pat came in on a Sunday night a
couple of weeks ago,” the bartender re-
called. “She said she and her boy-friend
were leaving for Canada.”

“Would that have been on the thir-
tieth?” Be i

Referring to a calendar, the bartender
placed the Sunday as August 30. He said
he hadn’t seen her since: that time.
“And if she had been around, she would
have been in,” the bartender added.

“She and her boy-friend both had a -

pretty good thirst.”

These facts agreed with what Keene
had learned from Ronald Hurley: the
plans had been to get a stake from some
robberies and go to Canada.

But where had Patricia Skene and
Nowlen -been during the week before
they were killed?

The officers had no place to turn ex-

cept to their informers. It. was a long

A

“ eee,

shot but finally they came to an ex-
convict named Ted Cook.

“Ed didn’t have nothing to do with
that deal on Pat Skene and Nowlen,”
Cook declared.

“How do you know?” Keene asked.

“I just know.” _

“He’s in a tough spot unless he can
explain how his address came to be un-
der the body.”

“What kind of a deal will you make
me if I talk?” Cook ventured.

“That depends upon what you say.”

“I think I can explain how Ed’s ad-
dress got to be under Nowlen’s body.
But you know I’m an ex-con. I don’t
want to be hustled around. I’m clean

‘and so is Ed Hinds.”

“If you want to stay clean, you'd bet-
ter start talking in a hurry.”

Cook, the officers claimed, told them
he had met a man by the name of Clif-
ford Red. Red had served a sentence
as a forger. He and his common-law
wife, Sandra Grounds, were living in
the El Sereno district.

“I don’t know who gave Red my name,
but he sent word he wanted to see me,
so I went over.

“Pat was there and Nowlen and
another fellow named Lawrence
Garner. They mentioned Ed Hinds and
Garner said somebody was going to
pick him up and bring him over. But he
didn’t show.”

66 L=@s get this straight,” Keene said.
“Garner told you that somebody
was going to pick up Hinds?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Then Garner could have given
Hinds’ address to the man who was to
Pick him up.”

“That's the way I figured it.”

The meeting of the group of ex-con-
victs and some of their girl-friends was
held at the home of Clifford Red on Fri-
day night, September 4, said Cook

“Who else was at this ‘meeting’?”
Keene asked.

Cook said the only persons he knew

were Clifford Red and Sandra Grounds,

Patricia Skene, Nowlen and Lawrence
Garner. Two other couples were there,
but he didn’t get their names.

“What kind of a session was this—
some sort of crime plot?”

“Oh, no,” Cook protested. “We just
talked and had some drinks. I pulled
out around midnight... Everybody was
still there when I left.”

The investigators obtained a police
photograph of Lawrence Garner. It was
shown to Ed Hinds.

“That’s the guy I gave my address
to!” Hinds exclaimed. “He’s the one
who asked me to a party.”

Keene, Oxnevad and Eisen hurried
out to Clifford Red’s address furnished
them by Cook. No one was at home. A
search warrant. was obtained. The fur-
niture was still in the house, but Red
and his common-law wife had taken all
1 er gp personal possessions and van-

ed. :

NEIGHBORS reported seeing the

Reds leave the house Saturday

morning. They hadn't told anyone

i on were going or when they’d
ack.

Cook did not know where Lawrence
Garner lived. The investigators were
omg to find anyone else who knew

m.

Sheriff Bland issued an order re-
questing the arrest of Clifford Red,
Sandra Grounds and Lawrence Garner.

The investigators began a frenzied.
’ search for all friends and acquaintances

of the wanted trio, hoping they could
learn the identities of the other couples
at Red’s “party.”

Then, scanning the telephone book
left in Red’s house, the detectives found
the name of Horace Cameron under-
lined with a pencil.

Hurrying to the address, they failed

‘to locate Cameron, but a young woman

was there who said her name was Perez.
She was reluctant to talk, but finally
admitted that she was Cameron’s girl-
friend and had been to the party at
Red’s home with him on Friday.

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Under persistent questioning, Miss
Perez revealed that Sandra Grounds
had called her shortly before noon on
Saturday.

“She told me that she and Cliff were
going to take a trip to Mexico,” Miss
Perez said. “She wanted to know the
best place to go. I suggested Ciudad
Obregon to her. I don’t know whether
they went there or not.”

Questioned about the party, Miss
Perez said she did not know of anything
which happened there that could have
led to the slayings. However, she re-
vealed that another ex-convict had
been invited to Red’s and had not
shown up. He was Joe Rojo, from
Texas.

HE insisted she did not know the

whereabouts of Cameron.

“Horace said there'd be a lot of trou-
ble when the police started investigat-
ing the deaths of Miss Skene and Mr.
Nowlen. He said he was going to go
away for awhile and that he’d get in
touch with me in a couple of weeks.”

Orders were issued for the arrest of
Horace Cameron and Joe Rojo. .

Mexican authorities in Ciudad Obre-
gon weré reached by long-distance
telephone. They were asked to try to
locate Clifford Red, Sandra Grounds
and any other tourists from the United
States who might be in the area.

“Suppose I fly down there and give
them a hand,” Oxnevad suggested to
Sheriff Bland, who agreed. Plans were
made to take the San Bernardino sher-
iff's plane, piloted by Lieutenant Wayne
D. Matheson, and Oxnevad and Mathe-
son left the next day.

The Los Angeles sheriff’s office finally
found Horace Cameron. He insisted he
knew nothing about the deaths of Miss
Skene and Nowlen. However, he did
supply an address in San Bernardino
where he said Garner had been living.

Garner was not there, but Keene and
Longhetti obtained a search warrant to
examine the rooms where he had lived.

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Keene claimed that he found Miss
Skene’s purse and shoes and a wallet
and jacket belonging to Nowlen in
Garner’s room. :

Oxnevad called in from Ciudad Obre-
gon. Authorities told him that Sandra
Grounds and Lawrence Garner ‘were
there. Red had been with them, but
had disappeared.

Bland explained to Oxnevad that if
the suspects were arrested in Mexico,
it would entail a long session of legal
proceedings to have them brought out
of the country to face charges in the
United States.

“I doubt if they will waive extradi-
tion,” Oxnevad said.

“I know. See if the authorities in
Ciudad Obregon can force them to leave
as undesirables. You can keep track of
them and we can grab them as soon as
they cross the border.”

The officials of the state of Senora
agreed to cooperate in the plan to have
the trio put out of Mexico. “If they are
suspected of being criminals, then they
are undesirable,” an official explained.
“It is legal to ask them. to leave the
country.”

Under the watchful eyes of Mexican
police, Miss Grounds and Garner were
escorted to the border at Nogales, Ari-
zona. As they cleared customs and im-
migration officials, Oxenevad and
Matheson were waiting for them.

Both refused to talk, other than to'

say that Clifford Red, who had been
with them on the trip to Mexico, had
returned to the United States several
days earlier. They claimed they did not
know where he was.

Miss Grounds and Garner were flown
to Victorville, where AssiStant District
Attorney Don A. Turner was waiting to
question them.

Turner told Garner that Nowlen’s
coat and wallet and Miss Skene’s purse
and shoes had been found in his room.

According to Turner, Garner then
shrugged.and said, “I only meant to kill
Nowlen. But I knew she'd blab, so I had
to let her have it, too.”

Garner was arraigned on charges of
Preece murder on September 21,
1 k

According to the court records, he
then gave the following version of the
slaying:

Nowlen ‘and Mrs. Skene were driving
to Las Vegas to get married, and he and
Miss Grounds were accompanying them.
They planned to finance the wedding
trip with a series of holdups, but Garner
became so resentful of Nowlen’s supe-
rior attitude that he wanted to with-
draw from the deal. Nowlen threatened
Garner, who decided to kill him.

“After we left Adelanto and were out
in ‘the desert,” Garner was quoted as
saying, ‘“‘we stopped and did some target
shooting at empty bottles while the
girls waited in the car. That’s when I
shot Nowlen. I went back and told Pat
there’d been an accident, and she ran
to Nowlen and put his head in her lap.
She was looking down at him when I
shot her in the back of the head.”

Garner told the court he-had married
Miss.Grounds in Mexico after the slay-
ing, hoping she thus would be unable
to testify against him.

Both the bride and groom were being
held pending further legal action as
this story is written.

The names Mr.and Mrs. Harry Chips,
Mrs. Virginia Brook, Mrs. Pauline Wil-
son Thomas, Jerry Thomas, Ted Cook,
Horace Cameron, Maria Perez and Joe
Rojo are fictitious in this story.

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does seem to me it was grec. eense,with
white numbers.” , \~

Wilson asked him abott tie make of ~
the car. Howard had saith thought it
was a Chevrolet or Oidsrbile. The
victim in San Francisco waiertain the
car he’d seen was a Ford. ~— ~~

“At the time I didn’t payuch atten-
tion,” Howard said, “becsse I didn’t
know anything was wroy: ‘If that
other fellow had been roted, he'd be
noticing it more than I ¢i.. He could
be right that it was a Ford;f-it was the
same car and fellow who «nt off with
Larry.” , ;

Wilson sent a message > the Utah
state police, asking their :t:p.

Before long a telephow call ame
from Deputy Kenneth Mmmormi- of
Davis County, Utah.

“We had a gas-stationstick-up 2
couple of days ago in the tein of Clear-
field,’ Hammond reported “A baby-
faced kid took the operatoa of 4 small
station for a hundred and ieventy=ufive
bucks. This kid was weartig a jacket
with a dragon embroidered in the back
and was packing a twenty-five auto-

matic. We showed the atiendant some

pictures, and he picked out the guy.”

Excitedly Wilson asked:

“Do you have him in custa\2”

“Not yet. But I filed a chargeagainst
him two days ago. We don’t kno* where
he is right now. His parents 4ve in
Roy—that’s just a little ways but of
Ogden.”

Hammond said the youth was %-
year-old Thayne Archibald, who hadg
police record dating back to his early.
teens. He served a four-year term at’
the Utah Reformatory and shortly after
his release was picked up for auto theft
in Oregon and served a three-year sen-
tence in the state penitentiary there.

Deputy Bert Cook of Weber County
had talked with the boy’s parents. They
told him that Thayne had been away
for several weeks. He had come home
the day after the reported service-sta-
tion robbery in Clearfield and left again
the following day.

“His folks are good people,” Ham-
mond said, “but he’s been in trouble all
of his life.”

“Send us a mug right away, will
you?”

Patty’s Lost Tattoo
(Continued from page 17)

Keene and Oxnevad left at once for
San Marino, a community east of Pasa-
dena. With the local officers, they paid
a visit to the shoe store.

The manager found that the shoes
had been sold less than a month before
to a customer who gave his name as
“Nolen.” No first name or address had
been noted on the sales slip.

“That could be a help in digging into
the school records,’ Oxnevad said.
“Let’s see what they have on the gradu-
ating class of forty-nine.”

The school yearbook did not have.
anyone by the name of “Nolen,” but it
did list and contain a photograph of a
Richard Lee Nowlen.

“That picture is about ten years old,
but it looks like the guy—don’t you
think so?” Keene asked Oxnevad.

“Tt sure does.” Oxnevad turned to

. the San Marino officer: “Do you fellows

know him?”

“I'll say we do. He’s a bad egg! We
had him in a dozen times while he was
a kid. And we just got a bulletin about
a month ago that he and two other fel-
lows escaped from Chino.”

The records showed that Nowlen, who
had been sentenced to thé California
Institution for Men at Chino for passing
forged checks, had escaped on August
9. Ronald D. Hurley, another bad-
check artist, and Robert J. Skiba, sen-
tenced for armed robbery, had escaped
with him. Both Skiba and Hurley had
been recaptured after a few days of
freedom. Nowlen was still at large.

“It’s already in the mail.” rf

When the police. photograph of
Thayne Archibald arrived at the Ala-
meda County sheriff's office, it was
rushed out to George Howard in Liver-

more. ;
“That looks like the fellow,” Howard

said. i P

Archibald’s name was added to the:
West Coast alert for Waters’ killer.

At nine o’clock Thursday night, Sep-
tember 11, a young man drove into a
service station in Baker, Oregon. He
brandished a gun and demanded the

from the operator, Allen Flynn.
argued with the youth, insist-
had only a few dollars and that
robbery wouldn’t be worthwhile.

e young man finally jumped into his
car and raced away empty-handed.

The station operator called Chief of
Police Fred Still, reporting that the
would-be bandit had been in a car with
Utah license. plates.

“He could be the guy we've been get-
ting all those reports on from Califor-
nia,” Still told his men. “Search the
town, and I’ll call the state police in
case he leaves here.”

A few minutes later a telephone call
came it) from Mrs. Elizabeth Fredrick,
who also operates a service station. She
reported a young man had just robbed \
her of $20 and-driven away in a Ford
sedan with Utah plates. ae

As Chief Still relayed the information
to the state police office, a radio report
came in from one of his patrol cars.
“we think we have the fellow spotted.
He’s in another service station.”

Still rushed to the location. The of-

ficers had a youth in custody. He had
given up without a struggle, although
he had a .26 automatic pistol in his
“pocket.

“Who ere you, son?” Still asked the
youth whem he was brought in.

"T aly'taobody,” was the surly reply.

Still wert to his desk, where he picked
up one the sketches he had received
from the Alemeda sheriff’s office on the
suspectec' slayer of Larry Waters.

“You look. a lot like this fellow.”

The youth studied the sketch for a
moment. “I stould,” he said without
emotion, Still claimed. ‘“That’s me.”

Chief Still caliud Wilson. He reported

From the police rmord and the school
files the police invettigators pieced to-
gether the background of Nowlen. They
learned that he was ihe adopted son of
Mr. and Mrs. Eugene Nowlen, a promi-
nent family. Before retiring, Mr. Now-
len had been a well-known Southern
California architect. He and his wife
now were active in art ircles.

Investigation revealed that Mr. and
Mrs. Nowlen were in Europe. A spokes-
man for the family said they had
adopted Richard when he was five years
old. They had given the boy every ad-
vantage, but he had persistently been
in trouble, The family had not seen
or heard.from him since he.was dis-
charged from the Navy in 1983.

Comparison of the fingerprints taken
from the desert victim with those on
Nowlen’s record confirmed the identifi-
cation. 4 . :

Nowlen never had been married.

Who was the girl?

And why had she and Nowler: heen
killed?

Chino authorities questioned Hurley -
and Skiba, who had escaped with Now-
len, as well as other inmates who knew
the slain man. ‘

“We can't get a thing out of then,”
the Chino authorities reported back.
“They claim they don’t know a thing.”

“How about the girl?” '

“Tf they do know who she is, they
won't talk. The way they’ve clammed
up, the killing could be the result of
something that happened here.”

Keene and Oxnevad were well aware
of that possibility. , .

“The girl could have been an inno-
cent victim,” Keene -reasoned. “She
might have happened to be with Now-
len when the killer or killers got him.”

re"

that the youth in custody had given
them his name as Thayne Archibald.

“The gun we took away from him is
a twenty-five automatic,” Still said.

“Does he have a jacket with a dragon
embroidered on the back?” Wilson
asked. ,

“We searched his car but couldn’t
find one. Do you want to talk to him?”

HEN Archibald came on the line,

Wilson said, the following conver-

sation took place: ‘Where is the
jacket?”

“J left it at home when I went there.”

The jacket was located at the Archi-
bald home.

Washoe County District Attorney
William Raggio and his chief criminal
deputy, Bill Driscoll, made the trip to
Baker to question Archibald and return
him to Reno.

The investigators claimed they heard
Archibald confess to robbing the service
station and kidnaping Larry Waters.
They quoted him as saying: f

“T took the kid along so he couldn't
holler cop after I left. When we got out
of town, I told him to drive, and I sat in
the back seat with the gun on him. He
didn’t give me no trouble at all. —

“We stopped at a cafe outside of Reno
for some sandwiches. I planned on let-
ting the kid out on the desert on my
way back.to Utah. But when we stopped
along the road to eat, he tried to run.

“T shot him. It was tough on him, but
he should have done what I told him.”

As Archibald gave the story to the
investigators in detail, however, several

points did not jibe with the evidence.

Larry Waters’ body had been found
at the edge of the cliff over the river.

_The ejected automatic shell was only

a few feet away. This did not corres-
pond with Archibald’s story that Larry
had tried to run.

Archibald waived extradition and was
returned to Reno by Raggio and Dris-
coll to face a charge of first-degree
murder.

As this was written, Thayne Archi-
bald was being held in the Washoe
County jail pending further action.

The names John Graham, George
Dunn and Albert Gonzales are fictitious.

Oxnevad and Keene turned their at-
tention to the bloodstained letter that
had been found in Nowlen’s pocket.
Chemist Longhetti had been unable to
bring out any more than the salutation
“Dear Patty” and the occasional words
indicating a plea for a reconciliation.

But from samples of the ex-convict’s
handwriting Longhetti was able to es-
tablish that Nowlen had not written
the letter.

The investigators still had no leads
to the identification of the girl, other
than. the tattoo marks on her leg. The
tattoo had faded until it would not re-
spond to any chemical treatment to
bring out the letters more clearly.

A call came in from the officer in
Hawthorne who had investigated the
address found on the slip of paper under
Nowlen’s body and questioned Harry

‘ Chips.

“We've been keeping an eye on Chips
and his wife,” he reported. “I think
they are okay. But he has a man stay-
ing with him by the name of Edwin L.
Hinds. This Hinds has a police record
and is known under the aliases Edward
Day and Richard Cullen. He was pa-
roled in January after doing a three-
year stretch in San Quentin for
burglary.”

“J think we’ll drop over and ask this
Hinds a few questions;” Keene decided.

The investigators were waiting for
Hinds when he arrived at the house in
the early evening.

He claimed he did not know Nowlen
and knew nothing about the slaying
of Nowlen and the girl.

“Why choose me?” Hinds asked.-
“what makes you think I know any-
thing about them?’””

He was told about the address on the

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6

’

place last night. Possibly, the investi-

gators hoped, one of them knew the
man.

But, as they began their questioning
of these people, they realized they had
not been given an easy road to. him.
Though several men believed they had
seen a man of that description in the
bar, they were unable to identify him.

And then, in a way they did not ex-
pect, they came up with a piece of stag-
gering information. For though it was
from one of the bar patrons, it had
nothing to do with the man in dun-
garees!

Their informant, after being shown
Mrs. Strohm’s picture, said he recalled
seeing her in the bar. But, even though
he didn’t remember noticing the man
in the dungarees, he said he had seen
another man talking to her.

“As I remember, he came up to her
while she was sitting at the bar. He
stood there talking to her, but then he
walked away after awhile. I had the
feeling he was trying to make time with
her but she’d given him the brushoff.”

“Did you happen to see him follow
her out when she left?” Detective Ar-
nold asked.

“No, because I don’t know when she
left. I pulled out of there about ten.
This was shortly before that.”

“Yeah. He - lives right down thi
street.”

T= man was Henry Delwood, 33, and
the officials hurried to his home to
question him. Had Delwood, they won-
dered, tried to pick her up in the bar,
then later trailed after her? Rebuffed
in the taproom, had he either forced
her into his car or tried to attack her
near her building?

Minutes later they were interrogating
him. Delwood, a massively-built man,
seemed either bewildered or frightened.

“Sure, I was at the bar,” he admitted.
— why? What do you want from
me

“Were you there alone?” McBride
asked.

“That's right. I almost always go in
there at night for a few beers.”

“Do you know anyone by the name
of Margaret Strohm?”

“Strohm?” He shook his head slowly.

The officers showed him:her picture.
But to their amazement he insisted he
never had seen her before!

Why, they asked themselves, was he
denying it? Why, if not to hide guilt?

“You sure you’ve got the right guy?”
he asked.

“We've got the right one all right,”
Belinsky said quietly. “Not only have
you seen her before, but you talked to
her last night at the bar. Someone saw

you.”
“Me?” He looked at the picture
again, quickly. Then color spread

through his face. “Yeah,” he said, as
though incredulously.

“It just slipped my mind, that’s all! i
I was a little high, see? Anyway,
what if I did talk to her? So what?”

Delwood seemed to sway a little, as
if with shock, when the officers told him
of the slaying. He stared at them, open-
mouthed. Then, “But I didn’t do it!
Wh-why would you think it’s me?”

“What were you to her
about?” Arnold questioned.

For a time he didn’t seem to know
how to answer. “It was—it was all in-
nocent, believe me. I thought she was
the sister of someone me and my wife
peg But I found out I made a mis-

e.”” ‘

“Someone says he thought you were
trying to pick her up.”

“That’s a lie!”

“Did she talk to you?” McBride
asked.

“We didn’t have any real conversa-
tion, no. She just told me I was mis-
taken. And I—maybe I told her what
a close resemblance it was. But that
was all. I did feel like an idiot,
though.”

“Do you own a car?”

“You're right. I .
did see her.” He turned to the officers.’

“What if I do?”
cautious.

“Did you have it with you last night?”

“No. Why should I? It’s only a short
walk.”

“Where was your car?”

“Outside the house.”

Which meant he could have hurried
home and got it.

Belinsky said, “How long were you at
the bar?”

“I left about eleven, I guess.”

“Was she still there?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t look.”

“Where did you go from there?”

“I came home and went to bed.”

“Was anyone here?”

“Sure. My wife was up watching tele-
vision. And the kids were sleeping.”

He suddenly was

himself in some way, or that their own
continuing investigation would uncover
something to bring him to justice.

And in the meantime, what?. What
about the man in the dungarees?

“Even if we do find him,” Belinsky
said glumly, “it might be the same
thing as Delwood. Just because a guy
talks to a woman in a bar, it doesn’t
mean he killed her.”

That this was true was haunting the
officers. Mrs. Strohm could have been
slain by a complete unknown; her being
in the bar and talking with someone
there might have nothing to do with
her slaying. She could have been walk-
ing home by herself when the killer
struck. She could have been entrapped
by him in a score of ways.

U

led to Jansen’s arrest.

making
Pavlas, 46, received a second-

$6,000 in jewelry for killing him

HE California best man who killed the bride and groom has paid
with his own life in the San Quentin gas chamber.
Garner, 30, whose bullets put an end to a projected forgery plot and
wedding party when he shot Patricia Skene and Richard Nowlen,
was married to the fourth member of the group three days before
his capture. The detective investigation of the strange expedition
and its tragic outcome appeared in
OrFicrat Detective Stories Magazine under the title, “Patty’s Lost

ND in New York, the “Teddy

Behrendt, a Garden City physician, and injured his wife
in an attempted robbery, also faces the death penalty. Theo-
dore “Teddy Bear” Stovall had been convicted and sentenced
to die in the electric chair in late October, however a manda-
tory appeal delayed the execution. The story, “Find That
Knife-Wielding Teddy Bear,” in the December, 1961, issue, de-
scribed the police search for Stovall.

O= term of life imprisonment and one term of 35 years, to run
consecutively, have been meted out to 24-year-old William
Donald Jansen for the robbery killing of Robert D. Smyser, oper-
ator of the Nifty Restaurant in Seattle, Washington. Under the
terms of these sentences, Jansen could be eligible for parole in
eighteen years and four months. “Shovels and Slugs for Nifty Rob-
ert,” in the May, 1962, issue, recounted the detective work which

WO ex-convicts charged with the slaying of Trooper Edwin

Gasque, Florida Highway Patrolman, near Jacksonville,

have been found guilty of different degrees of murder. Dewitt

Anderson 33, was convicted of first-degree murder with mercy,

a life sentence mandatory. His co-defendant, John

degree verdict for his part in the
slaying (“Through a Posse 2,000 Strong,” March, 1962).

Alse serving life terms are four youths who were found guilty
of the slaying of Samuel Resnick, a retired Phoenix, Arizona,
jeweler who, they claim, hired them to kill him. The quartet,
Jesse Tennis, nineteen; John Henry Lewis Jones, 21; Ernest Spur-
lock, 20, and R. E. Jackson, ek said Resnick had promised them

- usual detective work which cracked it were described in the July,
1962, issue in a story entitled, ““Would a Man Hire His Own Killer?”

Lawrence

the December, 1959, issue of

of

The unusual case and the un-

The officials, who had been question-
ing Delwood alone, summoned his wife.
She came in worriedly, clutching the
collar of her robe at her throat. But
whatever thought the investigators had
of being able to disprove Delwood’s
story soon was shattered. His wife not
only verified the time he had come
home, but insisted that he had shown
no sign of stress or anxiety.

A search of his car, too, revealed
nothing incriminating.

But did all of this mean innocence?
Wasn't it possible that, despite the na-
ture Nd the crime, his wife was shielding

Although aware from past experience
that this could be so, that nothing lay
outside the realm of human behavior,
just the same the officers felt a sense of
helplessness. Even. though Delwood
still might be guilty, they didn’t have
a shred of evidence to link him with
the crime. So, all they could do was
arrange to have him shadowed—and
hope that either he might implicate

Were they spending valuable time

for a man not guilty?

“It could be, but we’ve got to- and
him,” Sergeant ‘McBride said. “If no’
ing else, we’ve got to rule hint "

Detective Arnold sighed tiredly.
“We've already spoken to almost every-
one the bartender hag

“Well, we're not going to stop there,”
McBride answered.

After a lengthy conference, the offi-
cers decided on a plan of action. Since
the bar was frequented primarily by
residents of the vicinity, a a,
existed that the man in dungarees
from the area also. ‘This need tk be
so; he could have been a stranger to
the neighborhood who had stopped in
by chance. There was more than a
good likelihood of this, since he was an
unknown to so many people in the bar.

Yet, since he might live somewhere
near the taproom, the officials were
going to begin a mammoth canvass.
But could they come up with him on
the basis of a vague description and the


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72

legs. I suggested that we try some target
shooting with the .45. We'd bought some
pop so we took the empties off a little
way and set them up to shoot at. The
girls stayed in the car.

“When it was my turn with the gun, I
suddenly turned around and shot Dick in
the groin. He lay there, begging me for
mercy. But I shot him in the head, and
that finished. him. I went back to the car
and told Pat that I had shot Dick, that
it had been an accident. She jumped out
of the car and ran over to him.

“As I walked back to them she took
Nowlen’s head in her lap and held him
close. She was crying ‘Baby, Baby.’ But
when I got up to them she started curs-
ing me. So I shot her, too. The one
shot did it with her.

“I went back to the car again and
Sandra and I drove away. But after we’d
gone a little ways we talked it over and
decided. to go back and get the iden-
tification off the bodies. We took the
stuff, back to my room in San Bernardino,
then headed into Mexico with B. C. Box.”

ARNER was taken to the desert murder

scene and reenacted the slayings for
the officers. The story as he detailed it
fitted in with the evidence already con-
tained there, too. Garner seemed re-
lieved that the weight of the secret was
off his mind, but Sandra had no com-
ment to make on her husband’s story.

‘On September 22, the newlyweds were
arraigned on a joint murder charge in the
Victorville justice court. They were held
without bail for a preliminary hearing.

Still at large and wanted as an acces-
sory after the fact of murder was B. C.
Box. He reportedly had headed for Colo-
rado and authorities there were alerted to
be on the lookout for him. Just two days
after the double arraignment in Victor-
ville, he was spotted by two detectives
on a downtown Colorado Springs street.
Although armed with a .32, he surrender-
ed without a struggle. When he waived
extradition, he was transported back to
California.

On October 6, Lawrence Garner and
Sandra Grounds Garner were indicted
for murder by a special session of the
county grand jury. The action was insti-
gated by District Attorney Lathrop. It
bypassed the preliminary. hearing and
brought the case directly to the superior
court for trial.

The grand jury failed to indict B. C.
Box, but he was retained in custody un-
til October #3, when the district attorney
moved that the murder charge which still
stood against him be dismissed. However,
Box did not go free, but was transported

‘to Los Angeles to face the forgery charge

still hanging over him.

Chris Garner came to trial before
Judge Archie D. Mitchell in Superior
Court in San Bernardino in May of 1960.
On May 20, a jury found him guilty of
the double murder, and sentenced him to
die in the state’s gas chamber.

Just four days later, Sandra Grounds
Garner was also convicted in the slay-
ings. Her sentence was set at life in
prison.

Sandra’s married life with Chris had

-been short lived. But she got a better

break than Patricia Skene who never got
a chance to marry Dick Nowlen at all.

Note: The names George Jaynes, Al
Black, Dick Stutz and Bernard C. Box
are not the actual names of the persons
who were involved in this case.

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Bernardino .and booked on suspicion of
murder. The authorities knew Black had
been in Chino Prison at the sanfe time
Nowlen had been there and, although the
evidence indicated Black had been either
in or around Hawthorne all of the Labor
Day weekend, they felt he knew more
about the killing than he was admitting.
Meanwhile, they had cleared George
Jaynes and his wife of any suspicion.

From informers police learned that
Black actually knew the missing B. C.
Box and the deceased Dick Nowlen
and had visited Box’s home the Friday
night prior to the desert slayings. When
another informer, an ex-convict friend of
Black’s, admitted that both he and Black
had been at B. C. Box’s home on the
night in question, along with Nowlen,
Patricia Skene and a number of other
characters with a record, Black broke
down and told his story to the in-
vestigators. He said he had attended
the meeting at Box’s home, but insisted
he had written his address on a slip of
notebook paper not for Nowlen, but for
another man he met there, an ex-convict
from North Carolina.

Piecing together the information from
Hinds and the other frightened inform-
ers who had attended the meeting at
Box’s house, the detectives put together a
theory on the purpose for the well-attend-
ed session. They felt Box and Nowlen had
rounded up the hoods, parolees and their
molls, most of whom had records them-
selves, to work out plans for a floating
check-forgery ring and a widespread
hold-up operation. By putting the pres-
sure on Black and the other known dele-
gates to the meeting, the “police dis-
covered that the two murder victims had
been left with B. C. Box and his so-
called common-law wife Sandra when the
planning meeting broke up that Friday
night. A pick-up order was issued for
the couple.

(yr Monday, a week after Labor Day,
a coroner’s inquest was held in Victor-
ville. The finding was that Richard Lee
Nowlen and Patricia Skene had been
murdered by a person or persons un-
known. Police intimated after the hear-
ing that Box and his girl friend were
still the most likely suspects, and the
search for them was continuing.

Again informers came to the assistance
of police. Word was received that the
couple had fied to Mexico right after
Labor Day, and a friend of the missing
girl reported getting a letter from her
mailed in Ciudad Obregon in Sonora. ~

This information was relayed to the
authorities in. the Mexican city. The
police chief soon reported back that an
American couple was staying at a local
hotel. He was informed that formal com-
plaints charging the pair of suspects with
murder had been filed by District At-
torney Lowell E. Lathrop at the request
of Sheriff Bland, and. that officers were
leaving for Sonora with warrants for
their arrest. Assigned to pick up the
suspects were Inspector Oxnevad and
Lieutenant Wayne Mathewson.

When, on September 17, the Cali-
fornia officers arrived in the Sonora state
and proceeded to Ciudad Obregon, they
requested that the local police chief take
the pair into custody. The latter complied
with the request, and the American
couple was arrested at the local hotel
without any trouble. The officers were
in for one surprise, however. The girl
was, as they suspected, Sandra Kay
Grounds, but she now~ was Sandra

Grounds Garner and the man with her
was not B. C. Box, but a friend of his,
Lawrence “Chris” Garner. The sassy
brunette told police she and Garner had
come to Mexico with Box, but B. C. had
returned to the States. She and Garner
had been married in Mexico on Septem-
ber 15, she said.

Unable to get either Sandra or Chris
to talk about the double murder, the
officers tried to break them down by
sheer weight of evidence. Informed by the
Ciudad Obregon police chief that Garner
had reportedly pawned a .45-caliber au-
tomatic locally, the California officers
tracked it down. They also uncovered
Garner’s last known address in San Ber-
nardino and relayed the information to
Sheriff Bland. His deputies searched the
thirty-year-old ex-convict’s former room
and found Nowlen’s wallet and jacket
and Patricia Skene’s purse and shoes
hidden there.

ACED with this evidence, after they

were returned to San Bernardino, San-
dra and Chris both broke under per-
sistent police questioning.

Sandra was ready to talk first. She put
the blame for the double slaying on B. c.
Box, saying she and her new husband
had only been witnesses to the shootings.
According to Sandra, Nowlen and the
Skene girl had decided they wanted to
get married in Las Vegas. The decision
had been reached after a night of party-
ing in Los Angeles, and early on Sunday
morning of the Labor Day weekend the
quintet had set out for the Nevada city
in Sandra’s car. Planning to finance the
wedding trip and following honeymoon
with a series of holdups, they had stopped
in the desert for target practice. There,
according to Sandra, B. C. Box and Now-
len got into an argument and Box shot
the would-be bridal couple before she
and Garner knew what was happening or
could stop him.

The officer listened patiently to San-
dra’s story, then started to question her
intensively on the details of the slayings.
When: her answers didn’t match the facts
as the investigators knew them, they
turned their attention to Garner. Under
the heavy probing, he broke quickly and
confessed that he had killed the couple,
not B. C. Box. In fact, he admitted, Box
hadn’t even been along on the erstwhile
wedding trip.

ARNER said the foursome had indeed

left for Las Vegas as Sandra had said,
with Garner scheduled to be best man
at the proposed wedding. Finances were
to be raised by a series of robberies in
the gambling community. It was this
aspect of the plans’ that had caused the
trouble, Garner said, for he had started
to feel that perhaps the holdups weren’t
such a good idea.

Early Sunday morning the quartet
stopped for breakfast in El Monte, :Cali-
fornia, and he had told Nowlen how he
felt, that he wanted to back out of the
scheme. Nowlen wouldn’t hear of it,
Garner declared, and the tough ex-con
had threatened Chris’s family if he

didn’t go along with the plan.

“That’s when I made up my mind to
kill him,” Garner told police. “A little
after six o’clock Sunday morning we
were going through the desert and I was
looking for a good place to let him have
it. I didn’t have. a gun and Dick did,
so I knew I had to get that .45 away
from him.

“About 6:30 we stopped to stretch our

CRIME DETECTIVE

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fingers gripping °
weariness thinnir
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silence, words th
to where we usec
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| sat saying notr
my husband whe
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In the same b
home and Blake
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cried out. “We m
His back sti‘
slowly he turne
what, Marge? A’
Steve Bailey or
gardens with Ho

a moment and t!

slowly, “Or shal!
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Monday morning, and that she was
several years older than the Santa Maria
girl. Additional confirmation of the mis-
taken identification came from the young-
er girl’s dentist who supplied her oral
chart for comparison. with the dead
woman’s. They didn’t match.

One lead that still held some promise,
however, was the scrap of paper that
had directed the officers’ attention to
Hawthorne. Late Wednesday, Sheriff
Bland had been informed that one of the
tenants had returned to the apartment
and Hawthorne police had questioned
him. He had identified himself as George
Jaynes, a mechanic. The young man said
he shared the apartment with his wife
and, recently, with another couple. Un-
able to pinpoint how his address might
have been at the murder scene, Jaynes
had only one suggestion. He said a
friend, Dick Stutz, had visited him a
week or so previously; possibly Stutz
had written down, the address for some-
one else. He was asked to describe Stutz.
The description resembled somewhat the
dead man in the air base mortuary.

The. first real break in the case, how-
ever, came from the deputies who had
been doggedly running down the school
ring worn by the murdered ‘man. The
SM 1949 ring was traced to a Midwest
manufacturer whose records showed that
only two like it had been sold in Califor-
nia in that year—both to San Marino
Prep School, near Pasadena.

A quick follow-up. with officials at
San Marino Prep School uncovered the
fact that the 1949 graduating class had
only one member whose initials were
RN-—Richard Lee Nowlen.

Nowlen’s name was known to the po-
lice throughout the Los Angeles area,
including officers in Sheriff Bland’s com-
mand. A quick check in their identifica-
om records refreshed their memory on

im.

[TO ENTY cight-yeag-old Nowlen was the

adopted son of a retired wealthy archi-
tect and his wife. Despite the many ad-
vantages which his foster parents had
given him, Nowlen, who had been trained
as an electrical engineer, constantly had
gotten in trouble with the law. His record
of arrests covered several communities
in the Los Angeles area and included
charges of robbery, assault, drunk driving,
forgery, issuing bad checks, kidnaping
and numerous parole violations. He was,
furthermore, wanted by the law as he was
an escapee from the Chino prison honor
camp. But, most importantly, Nowlen’s
record gave his description—which match-
ed in almost every detail that of the man
found on the pile of road-mix in the
Mojave. His fingerprints confirmed the
identification.

On August..9, 1959, Nowlen and two
companions—Ronald Hurley, a convicted
forger, and Robert J. Skiba, serving time
for robbery—had fled the prison road
camp on Mt. Wilson. His fellow escapees
had been retaken within a few days, but
the wily Nowlen had eluded capture.
But he apparently hadn’t eluded death,
for less than a month later he had died
in the desert with a .45 slug in his head.

The identification of Nowlen was quick-
ly followed by that of his companion in
death. A tip-off identified the pony-
tailed corpse as. Patricia Hurley Skene—
which clarified the tattoo—a twenty-seven-
year-old parolee from the Los Angeles
County women’s facility at Terminal
Island. Pat, who was known by several

‘aliases, was the sister of Ronald Hurley,

one of Nowlen’s two escape partners,
and the wife of a convict serving time in
Tehachapi Prison. Her identity as the
second murder victim also was confirmed
by fingerprints.

Pat Skene’s police record didn’t match
that of Nowlen’s but she had an impres-
sive background. At the age of twenty-
three, in 1955, she had been convicted
of forgery and placed on five years’ pro-
bation. Arrested in October, 1958, for
possession of narcotics, she was sent-
enced to a year in the Terminal Island
institution, but was paroled in July, 1959,
just two months before her death at an
unknown killer’s hands.

In tracking down Patricia’s where-
abouts since her parole, the officers
learned her family had last seen her
on August 17 when she visited a sick
relative in the hospital. That same day
her brother was recaptured, ending his
escape attempt.

poo lead supplied by an informer
moved the investigation along swiftly.
Reportedly, Nowlen and Patricia had
been staying with friends in a Los An-
geles suburb not far from Hollywood
Park. The friends were identified as
Bernard C. Box, another ex-convict, and
a girl named Sandra Kay Grounds, who
passed as Box’s common-law wife and
was known as Sandra Box.

Officers found Box’s house vacant.
Neighbors informed them the two
couples apparently left the house for
the last time on September 4, the Friday
night that opened the Labor Day week-
end. They were thought to be traveling in
Sandra Box’s two-door, gray 1949 Ford
sedan, and an all-points pick-up order
was issued for the car.

The search for Bernard Box and his
common-law wife went on _ through
Thursday night and all day Friday. While
some of the investigators were concen-
trating on that aspect of the case, others
were following up a lead that had de-
veloped that same day, a trail started
with the scrap of paper that had led
police to the Hawthorne apartment of
George Jaynes. In their original ques-
tioning of Jaynes, the officers had had
no reason to doubt his story. However,
in methodically checking out the in-
formation which he had given them—
which included the name of the couple
who shared his quarters, an Al Black and
his, wife, they learned that Black had
been nabbed several times on burglary
charges.

gid Friday night Black and his female

companion returned to the apartment
and found Los Angeles Homicide Serg-
eant William Eisen and Longhetti, the
forensic chemist, waiting for them. Black
told them he knew nothing about Now-
len, the Skene woman or the missing B.
C. Box and his girl. However, in Black’s
coat pocket the officers found a loose-
leaf notebook the pages of which match-
ed that found under Nowlen’s body.
Faced with this evidence, Black ad-
mitted that he might have written the
address on the paper, but he didn’t
know how it got to the murder scene.

-He said he had given his address to a

man he had met in a bar a week or
two previously and asked the man to drop
in at his home for a drink, but he
claimed he couldn’t remember the man’s
name.

Taken into custody by the two officers,
Black spent the night in jail. The next
day, Saturday, he was taken to San

CRIME DETECTIVE

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CRIME DETECT!

Fm en

GARNER, Lawrence C., White, asphyx.e Calif.
on September 1, 1962.

WAS THE FLY IN. 1

One of the first things the coroner’s-

‘
i
‘ N
A ?
\ { ‘

by MALCOLM SOMMERS

LTHOUGH it was only a couple
A hours since the sun came up that
morning, the road construction
site near the town of Adelanto, Califor-

nia was, already broiling in the 100-’

degree heat of the Mojave Desert. The
project there was to re-route several
stretches of 395 Route U.S.

At 7:30 a.m. shimmering heat waves

_ were rising off the uncompleted blacktop

surface of the new roadway. At a point
about 400 feet from the old road, the
hard-bitten foreman of the job was mut-
tering to himself irritably as he threaded

his way between some parked bulldozers .

and road levelers; he was teed off be-
cause about a quarter of the men in his
crew had not made it back to work after
the long Labor Day weekend.
Suddenly the foreman raised his head
and a second later he stopped short, ex-
claiming, ‘‘Well, I’ll be a sonofabitch!”’
Some of his men looked around at the

new tone of his voice. They saw him.

pointing.

“Look at that!’’ the foreman went on.
**Right smack in the middle of the damn
road. Drunk as hell, probably. I’ll bet
they’ve been there all night.”’

The men in his crew didn’t often agree

. with the boss, but they couldn’t argue

with him this time. The foreman’s finger
was pointing toward a young guy and a
young girl, sprawled flat on their backs

_ on the new road. '.

Now the foreman stalked toward the
pair and shouted, ‘‘Aw right, you two,
on your feet! If you wanna sleep, find a
bed someplace. You can’t do it here.”’

There was no response. The foreman
opened his mouth to speak again, but by
now he was closer enough to get a good
look at the couple.

Whatever he intended to say, he didn’t

Say it. Instead, he gasped, ‘‘Good God,
4 they’re dead!’

A look at the faces of the prone pair

’ was enough to convince him of that. -

They had begun to turn back with de-

composition. ‘They also were smeared

with coagulated blood.
Save for the shoes missing from the

“woman’s feet, both bodies were fully
|. dressed. She wore a.gray sleeveless
- dress, and beige nylon stocking on her
* shapely legs. The man was clad in gray,

summer-weight slacks, a white sport

42 .Master Detective

we , e
Bodies of Pat Skene (above) and Rich-
ard Skene were found on highway. The
victims had been ruthlessly shot dead

shirt open at the neck, and brown loaf-
ers, The front of his trousers was caked
with dried blood which had saturated
them earlier.

Members of the road crew had rushed
to the spot at the foreman’s cry. Now he
gave orders to stay away from the
bodies, then he set out in a pick-up truck
to ‘get some law out here, by God!”’ His
call was received about 15 minutes later
at the Victorville office of the California
Highway Patrol, and from there the news
was relayed to the San Bernadino County
sheriff’s sub-station in the same city,
which was about nine miles from the
death scene. :

Highway patrolmen and sheriff’s de-
puties who reached the scene first had
already made a number of preliminary
observations by the time the main task

_force of ranking officers arrived from

their respective headquarters. Heading
Sheriff Frank Blad’s investigators were
Inspector Hal Oxnevad and Lieutenant
Barton A. Keene, both thoroughly ex-
perienced homicide sleuths.

Forensic Chemist Anthony Longhetti
had come’ from the crime laboratory, and
Deputy C. Maclvor had been summoned
from the Identification Bureau. A.J.
McCann, deputy coroner, had already
begun his on-scene examination of the
bodies as the inspector issued orders to
cordon off the area. Deputy Maclvor had
swiftly completed the task of photo-
graphing the bodies. :

deputy did was to wrap the fingers of the
slain pair in soaked cotton; he had noted
the fingertips were already blackened and
Shriveling in the sun’s heat, and this
would help to retain their fingerprint
characteristics.

: The intense desert heat had already
caused advanced decomposition to set in.
The features of the victim—surface cir-
cumstances left no doubt in anyone’s
mind that they had been murdered—were
already bloated. Both the man and the
woman appeared to be in their twenties.

Inspector Oxnevad noted that the
woman was about five feet, three inches
tall, with a slim, shapely figure that may
have weighed around 110 pounds, at

most. Her hair, dark brown in color, was -

done in a casual ponytail effect.

The man was a husky six-footer, with
curly, reddish-brown hair.

Lieutenant Keene quickly ascertained
that the road crew had worked at the
scene all day Friday and that the bodies
were not there when they left.

The inspector studied the profusion of
dried blood on the blacktop and con-

- Cluded that the couple had been slain at

the spot where they were found. The evi-
dence at hand clearly eliminated the pos-
sibility that they might have been killed
elsewhere and transported out there to the
desert to be dumped. Deputies who had
arrived at the scene early reported that
they had found no sign of strange vehi-
cles parked or abandoned anywhere in
the vicinity.

Deputy Maclvor told Inspector Oxne-
vad he had found a few footprints in the
tarry road-surfacing material, but ‘‘there _
are no signs of a struggle.’’ The coroner
was still working, but the detectives
didn’t need him to tell them that both
victims had been shot in the head. It’
looked as though the man had also been
shot somewhere below the belt.

A chrome-plated lighter, Zippo imita-
tion type, and a half-smoked cigarette _
butt, lay between the two bodies. Near
the man’s head a deputy found a pair of
horn-rimmed glasses, the left lens of
which had been shattered. There was no
sign of a woman’s purse, but a few
coins—totaling less than 50 cents—were
scattered nearby.

Deputies searching the area also re-
ported finding a number of spent car-
tridge casings of both .32 and .45 cali-

(Nas ER Der. SOTUVE: Ma C4 2/NE

On”

a

—

GIRETH, Leslie, white, gassed CA (Alameda) January 22, 1943.

GIRL ome RED CARNATIONS

The killer sent red carnations and

violent death to the young co-ed.

/

by Stephen Brownson

The red carnations are beside the bed where the beautiful brunette died.

Did the man in the photo send them?

¢ ALAME
down at tt
immaculate
California.
a double |
attitude of
in the side
anyone wh
The count
and survey
that morn!

“This is
Gleason c
have been
view his ft

An ano
around fo
The caller
He promp
self.

The cr
Gleason «
flooded tt

AMAZING DETECTIVE, October, 1960


photo send them?

The lovely, young, dark-haired beauty who was fond of red carnations and a homicidal boy-friend.

# ALAMEDA COUNTY Sheriff H. P. Gleason looked
down at the beautiful young brunette found lying in the
immaculate tourist bungalow on the outskirts of San Leandro,
California. The young girl was stretched out full length on
a double bed, her hands clasped over her breasts in an
attitude of repose. Had-f%t not .been for the tiny blue hole
in the side of her-head and another below the shoulder,
anyone who saw her would have thought she was sleeping.
The county. officer turned his eyes away from. the corpse
and surveyed the orderly room in Cabin 10 at the auto court
that morning of July 17th.

“This is about the neatest killing I ever saw,” Sheriff
Gleason commented. “The person who did the girl in must
have been very fastidious and unwilling to have an outsider
view his handiwork: under unfavorable conditions.”

An anonymous informant had called the Oakland police
around four A.M. and said there was a body in the cabin.
The caller was a man whose voice was edged with tenseness.
He promptly hung up when police asked him to identify him-
self.

The cream-colored venetian blinds were drawn when

Gleason entered. But as they were opened, and sunlight

flooded the rooms, gasps of astonishment went up from the

group of officers huddled in the doorway.

Alongside the bed was a table on which was a vase with
an attractively arranged cluster of red carnations. Leaning
against the vase was a photograph of a good-looking clean-
cut man about 35.

On the floor, against the far wall, sat an expensive
portable phonograph and some symphonic records. One
was on the turntable—an orchestral arrangement of Debussy’s
romantic nocturne, “Claire de Lune.” The needle had stop-
ped on an inside groove of the record.

Not far from the phonograph were a suitcase and a shoe
box. The former contained feminine wearing apparel; the
latter a quantity of personal correspondence.

The bungalow was divided into a three-room apartment.

In addition to the bedroom-living room, there were a
kitchenette and a bath. These, too, were neat as a pin.

The proprietor of the tourist court said a man and a
woman had arrived on Wednesday evening and registered as
Mr. and Mrs. Lester B. Girard. “At least, that’s the way
I was able to make out his signature,” the man added. He
assigned them to Cabin 10.

During Thursday, he had seen the man around the
place. What he thought was a radio played incessently,

17


Gleason pressed the ‘starter
Strains of “Claire de Lune”.

sald. “He almost drove me

ing hours at,a time.”

ry card. To him, also, the
Mr. and Mrs. Lester B.

re no wedding band—only
‘ a sapphire and a pendant
aearts attached. There was
1g: “To Dorena from Les.”
Chief,” said Deputy Dick
ting the shoe box full of
S 18 addressed to her—Miss
Street, San Jose. They’re

aned the mail, all of which
me torrid vein. He selected
rena, my darling, Humble
I love you, how I adore
tr Les . . . September 15,

2t back toward the box.

larry Adams was combi

Under the bed, he Tabak
three ejected shells.

ison, handling the weapon
as deadly as any at close

4

The man who sent the flowers and loved Debussy’s. music (left) is fingerprinted by Fresno Police Sgt. Mortland.

range. From the size of that hole in her temple, I’d say this -
gun did the job.” a :

Gleason nodded. “Looks like the sort of thing a woman
would be toting around,” he ventured. :

“Sure,” Adams replied. “Either the dead girl herself
or someone who didn’t like her worth mentioning.”

The sheriff picked up the man’s picture. “This could
be Girard,” he said, “but there’s no inscription.” _,

“A nice. looking guy,” Adams conceded. “Judging from:
those letters, he and Dorena were pretty lovey-dovey.”

Gleason looked back toward the letters. “Why would the
girl be carrying them around in a shoe box?”. :

Adams shrugged. ‘Maybe this meeting was the kiss-off,”
he said. “She could Have been handing ’em back with a
‘No more..of the same, thanks.’ ”

“Or somebody found those notes and came over here for
a showdown.”

“Possibly. Maybe Girard was married to some other
dame. Or Dorena could have been cooling off on him with-

somebody else—and that somebody else didn’t know about

Girard until just recently.”

.and Thursday. And.on Thursday (Continued on page 58)

Gleason thought back to the anonymous phone call
which the Oakland police were trying to trace. “Think
Girard gave: the tip?” he asked.

“Could be. He may have left his sweetie here alone
and came back and found her dead. He preferred to phone
in his information so as not to get mixed up in a scandal.”

“You don’t think Girard is his real name?”

_“T have my doubts.”

“Who do you think kept playing that phonograph record?”

Adams shrugged. “I couldn’t begin to guess. If it was
Girard, then he was sounding off with a requiem to a lost
love. If somebody else was doing it, it could have been
for the same reason. Or maybe it was an act of derision. The
piece could have meant something to Dorena and Girard.
A third party could have been figuratively thumbing his or
her nose at the girl—with music.”

The medical examiner arrived, and. Gleason and Adams
left him with the body and went out to question the residents
of the other bungalows. A number of them had heard
“Claire de Lune’ being played over and over on Wednesday

13


The clean-cut young man whose photo-
graph was found beside the death-bed.

The immaculate San Leandro, Calif. tourist
_ bungalow where the corpse of the young
Boeing aeronautical student was found
beside a bouquet of red carnations.

12

mostly one tune over and over. Gleason pressed the ‘starter

of the phonograph, and the soft strains of “Claire de Lune”.

poured forth from the speaker.

“That’s it!” the proprietor said. “He almost drove me
nutty with that thing. It kept going hours at a time.”

Gleason looked at the registry card. To him, also, the
scrawled signature looked like “Mr. and. Mrs. Lester B.
Girard.”

But the girl on the bed wore no wedding band—only
a colored stone ring resembling a sapphire and a pendant
necklace with two solid gold hearts attached. There was
an inscription in the ring, reading: “To Dorena from Les.”

“That’s her name, all right, Chief,” said Deputy Dick
Condon, who had been inspecting the shoe box full of
mail. “Every one of these letters is addressed to her—Miss
Dorena Hamméf, South 11th Street, San Jose. They’re
all signed ‘Les.’” :

HE sheriff went over and scanned the mail, all of which
seemed to be written in the same torrid vein. He selected
at random a note and read: “Dorena, my darling, Humble
words could never express how I love you, how I adore
you. Always remember that. Your Les . . . September 15,
1941,”
. The sheriff let the note flitter back toward the box.
“Hmm,” he mused.

Meanwhile, Criminal Deputy Harry Adams was combing
the neat death suite for clues. Under the bed, he found
a .25 caliber automatic pistol and three ejected shells.

“A cute little toy,” he told Gleason, handling the weapon
gently in his handkerchief, “but as deadly as any at close

range. From t!
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stomach.
s, wrapped
ind pulled
bother to
rush over

tumbling
a steady
da news-
aced.
he evening
nt to open
just pulled
right away

all night.

er putona

half to my

Diego, cut-

long I took
4 then I at-

tacked her again. Late that night or early
the next morning, I forget which, I de-
cided to kill her. -

“T really was sorry I had to kill her.
She was the one I really liked. But I
couldn’t come up with any answer so I
got out the rope and did it the same way
1 did the others.” Glatman said he left
the body unclothed except for a pair of
filmy panties and drove back to Los
Angeles.

He kept the dead girl’s stockings, slip
and dress for some strange sentimental
reason. It was these that the police found
in his apartment.

Sergeant Rios, Lt. Marvin Jones of the
LAPD and Sgt. Jack Laughton of the Los
Angeles sheriff's office showed Glatman
maps of the desert area and asked him if
he could pin-point the places where he
buried the bodies.

The officers had already assumed it was
the body of Judy Dull that had been found
the previous December. That left two
bodies still missing. Glatman was down-
right obliging.

“Pll do better than show you on the map
where those bodies are. I’ll take you there
right now.”

It was about 11 o'clock on the night-of
October 30 when the officers and the pris-
oner piled into a caravan of cars and raced
south to Escondido where they met a con-
tingent of officers from San Diego County
headed by Sgt. Robert Majors.

Directed by Glatman the strange pro-
cession headed south under the light of a
full Halloween moon along Highway 78
to Scissors Crossing, 12 miles beyond
Julian.

There the old Butterfield Stage Road
crosses the highway and heads south
across bleak Anza Desert State Park.
Glatman told the driver to turn’ off onto
the old stage road where it threads its
way through eerie Earthquake Valley.

It was just about 2 a.m. on that ghostly
morning when Glatman told the driver
to stop. In the light of the moon the desert
was just a jumble of strange shapes and
shadows. But Glatman headed directly to-
ward a small watercourse and, after walk-
ing a quarter of a mile, he pointed to a
spreading ocotillo plant.

“That’s where she is.” And then he
turned his back while the flashlights of
the officers probed the darkness.

Under the plant officers found a woman’s
coat, a shoe, the jacket of a dress, and, ten
feet beyond, they came upon a heap of
human bones. Several of the smaller bones
had been scattered down the water-
course. The skull was nowhere to be
found.

Then Glatman announced coolly, “I
know where the other body is, too.”

So once again the caravan followed the
dirt road that was-once used by the stage
coaches.

Thirty-two miles further, less than a
mile from the Imperial County line, Glat-
man halted the party again. He looked at
a huge bluff looming up in the moonlight
and headed for another watercourse.

Suddenly there in the middle of the
wash, they saw a complete skeleton with
a large mop of jet black hair still clinging
to the bare skull. It was a sight to
shake the strongest of men—but not Glat-
man.

He looked at the skeleton of the girl.
“J liked her best of all,” he said.

Police were puzzled by the presence of
fresh tire tracks in the area and Jones
commented, “It’s hard to understand how
anyone could have passed. so close with-
out noticing that skeleton.”

While the party breakfasted in El
Centro, the coroner from San Diego, Al
Gallagher, went to the scene, and after

photographs were taken gathered up
the bones for more complete examina-
tions. :

It was late Friday night when the party
got to the Los Angeles central jail and
after he showered, Glatman wolfed down
large helpings of hot dogs, corn and
mashed potatoes, and topped it off with
a big slice of French apple pie, jello, and
coffee. He was so hungry that at times he
crammed the food into his mouth with
both hands.

Relaxing with a cigaret, he told news-
men that he knew it was all over when
the highway patrol caught him struggling
with Miss Vigil.

Asked what his victims’ last words were,
Glatman thought for a minute and replied,
“Ruth Mercado pleaded with me and said,
‘Oh, God, please don’t do it.’

“Mrs. Bridgeford said, ‘Please, please,
I have two children.’ '

“And I didn’t give Judy a chance to say
anything.” ;

Veteran detectives recoiled at the cold-
ness of the man. Said one of the detec-
tives, “I’ve never seen a guy like this. He
almost seems to enjoy talking about
it.

Sgt. Pierce Brooks of the Los Angeles
police said the triple-killer talked away
during the entire trip into the desert. “He
talked about it like we were on a fishing
trip or a visit to a market.”

Quizzed about other unsolved murders
in Los Angeles, Glatman denied them.
“T’d tell you if I did them. I’m already in
as deep as I can get. There’s nothing
worse that could happen to me. They can
only give me one shot of gas.”

He was later cleared of any connec-
tion with other unsolved crimes in Cali-
fornia.

By the time he had finished his confes-
sion of lust and murder there was only
one face in the squad room that was not
twisted by revulsion—and that was Glat-
man’s.

In Denver, Colo., when Glatman’s 69-
year-old widowed mother heard about his
arrest and confession she sobbed, “Oh, my
God in heaven. Not my boy. He never hurt
anybody. He was always so good. Always
so dependable. There must be some mis-
take.”

But officers assured her there wasn’t.

How many girls escaped death at Glat-
man’s hands no one but the killer himself
will ever know. Pictures found in his
apartment indicated he had taken pic-
tures of many girls in the nude.

Fortunately for the majority of them,
he was not overcome with the sex im-
pulse when they were with him. Several
probably escaped death because they in-
sisted on having chaperones with them.

It hasn’t been decided as yet where
Glatman will be tried—in Los Angeles
County where. the crimes originated or in
San Diego or Orange County where they
were committed.

But that legal point makes little differ-
ence to Glatman. Glumly he told officers,
“T can never do life in prison. I’ve been
in prison before and time there comes
hard. I know.

“Tt want to get this thing over with as
soon as I can. I feel I got the death pen-
alty coming. In fact, I welcome death. Life
behind bars is a terrible thing.”

Commented Lt. Herman Zander of the
Los Angeles homicide detail, “Glatman in-
dicated he is willing to take the conse-
quences and he realizes the consequences
will be extreme.”

And in California that means a date
in the apple green gas chamber in San
Quentin’s death house.

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GLATMAN, Harvey M., wh, gassed CAS (San Diego) August 18, 1959

Glatman and above him, his shot
of strip-tease artist and model
Rita Mercado—his favorite, he
told detectives after his arrest

FICIAL DETEC

Never-before-published pictures taken
by a killer of the girls he murdered

MEEK-LOOKING Harvey Glatman was a photographer, he told the
models he hired in Los Angeles. What he didn’t tell three of them
was that he planned to take pictures of them as he killed them. When
detectives at last arrested Glatman (Orricrat Detective Srorigs in
its February, 1959, issue carried the full detective story of this inves-
tigation) they found several negatives of the pictures he had taken
and, led by the prisoner himself, they found the skeletons of three
long-missing young women. Here are some of Glatman’s pictures,
never published before, showing the death agonies of three girls.

(

This picture of Lorraine Vigil was
not taken by Glatman; she broke
away from him too soon and brought
about his capture by police

isa)
ihe

IVE, April, 1959

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sent to the Los Angeles Police Department
and the Los Angeles County sheriff’s of-
fice. The reply was prompt.

Los Angeles authorities reported that
two photographic models—Judy Dull and
Ruth Mercado—were missing. They had
vanished after going out on a picture
shooting assignment with a stranger.

Mrs. Jean Ellroy, a 37-year-old nurse,
had been strangled by a length of rope in
an alley in El Monte, a suburb of Los
Angeles, the previous June. Her killer
had not been found.

Capt. Arthur G. Hertel, head of the Los
Angeles homicide squad, sent two of his
men out to Glatman’s Norton Avenue
apartment. There they found plenty of
evidence as to the man’s photographic in-
terest.

Everywhere were pictures of nude
women, Harvey Glatman’s specialty. File
photos of Mrs. Dull and Miss Mercado
were matched against photos found in
Glatman’s apartment and the detectives
found that Glatman had a picture of the
missing dark haired strip teaser.

In the apartment they also found
Miss Mercado’s identification and some
articles of clothing that later turned out
to be hers.

Pictures of Miss Mercado and Mrs. Dull
were taken to the Santa Ana sheriff’s
office and the questioning of Glatman re-
sumed.

The ex-con stuck to his original story
and kept his mouth shut to any questions
that might get him into trouble. Finally on
Thursday he volunteered to take a lie
detector test, apparently thinking he
could beat the machine.

Danny Rios strapped him in front of the
black box, wired him to it and then began
firing questions at him. He was quizzed
about the murder of Mrs. Ellroy.

Despite the trick questions, the needle
hardly wavered as the graph paper slid
under it. Proof was almost conclusive that
Glatman was innocent of the Ellroy
murder.

And Rios built him up for a big let-down
by telling him so. After building up Glat-
man’s confidence the veteran homicide cop
pulled his ace out of the hole,

“I’m going to show you some pictures,
Glatman, and I want you to answer
whether or not you recognize them.
Understand?”

Glatman nodded.

The man didn’t bat an eye as he looked

‘at a number of arty photos Rios showed

him. Then the detective played his trump
card. He flashed the picture of Miss Mer~
cado the police had found in Glatman’s
room.

Said Rios later, “When he saw the pic-
ture of that model the polygraph needle
just about hit the ceiling.”

Then, according to officers, Glatman
broke down, saying, “I know you guys
know about this (the Mercado case). You
can’t beat this machine. You guys are
just playing with me now.”

What followed was a story so cold
blooded, so deliberately cruel and calcu-
lating, colored by lust and fear, that even
veteran police officers were shocked.

He began by commenting fatalistically,
“I guess I’m driving the nails in my coffin

by telling you this. I tried to give myself

up. I wanted to stop but I just didn’t have
the guts.”

Then he told in graphic detail how he
killed Judy Dull, Shirley Ann Bridgeford
and Ruth Mercado. Almost boastfully he
told the officers, “I used that very same
piece of sash cord every time, too,” indi-
cating the length of cord with which he
had tried to bind Miss Vigil.

And he also seemed to be proud of the

fact that he never had to fire his gun. It
was strictly an accident the night he
almost wounded Miss Vigil.

Glatman said he picked Judy Dull up
at her apartment and drove directly to his
apartment on Norton Avenue. There he
pulled the gun on her and raped her after
he had forced her to strip,

When he had satisfied his lust he forced
Judy to get dressed and at gunpoint
forced her into his car and drove out
into the vast desert area of Riverside
County.

There a half dozen miles from the town
of Escondido, Glatman said he staged his
first murder. “I had to kill those girls,”
said Glatman. “After I attacked them they
could identify me and if they couldn’t do
that they could certainly identify my
car.”

He turned to the officers and offered by
way of explanation, “I truly hated to kiil
those girls. But it just had to be. My fear
of being caught was almost as great as my
compulsion to hurt women.”

With that out of the way he resumed his
account of Judy Dull’s tragic death.

“T made her lie on her stomach,” he said
matter of factly. “Then I tied her ankles
with the sash cord, bent her backwards
and strangled her with the other end. I
scooped a shallow hole in the sand with
my hands and shoved her body in, fully
clothed.”

In December, 1957, the body of a young
woman was found in a shallow grave near
Escondido but it was not identified as the
missing model until after Glatman’s con-
fession.

Glatman’s second victim was Shirley
Ann Bridgeford. And in order to get her
he had to join the lonely hearts club. He
told detectives it cost him $10 to join and
for his money he was given the names,
addresses and telephone numbers of two
women. One of them was Mrs. Bridge-
ford.

The killer said that when he first talked
to the divorcee on the phone she was
somewhat reluctant to go out with him
but he finally persuaded her. He called
for her that fateful Saturday evening.

“I drove to Huntington Beach (in
Orange County) where we parked for a
while, but she kept saying she wanted to
go home,” related Glatman. “I said okay.
But instead I turned east and drove out
into the desert. She refused to get out of
the car when I stopped, but when I
pointed the gun at her, she obeyed. Then
I tied her up and raped her.

“Next I made her walk down a lonely
road. We walked for hours without seeing
a car. She took off her high heels because
she couldn’t walk on the rocks. I helped
her put them back on because she was
bruising her feet.

in I made her lie on her stomach.
I tied the rope around her ankles, wrapped
the other end around her neck and pulled
on it till she was dead. I didn’t bother to
bury her. I just kicked some brush over
her and went away.”

At this point the words were tumbling
out of Glatman’s mouth in a_ steady
stream. He told how he answered a news-
paper ad Miss Mercado had placed.

“I went to her apartment on the evening
of July 23 but she was reluctant to open
the door,” said Glatman. “So I just pulled
my gun. I got in. I tied her up right away
and then I raped her.

“I stayed at her apartment all night.
Early in the morning I made her put on a
robe and walk a block and a half to my
car.

“We drove south toward San Diego, cut-
ting into the desert. All day long I took
pictures of her in the nude and then I at-

i. ee
‘a i.

tacked her ag:
the next morr
cided to kill he)

“T really wa

She was the
couldn’t come
got out the ro;
I did the oth:
the body unck
filmy panties
Angeles.

He kept the
and dress fo:
reason. It was t
in his apartmer

Sergeant Rios
LAPD and Sgt
Angeles sheriff
maps of the de:
he could pin-p
buried the bodi

The officers h
the body of Jud:
the previous [I
bodies still mis;
right obliging.

“T’ll do better
where those boc
right now.”

It was about
October 30 wher
oner piled into a
south to Escon
tingent of office
headed by Set

Directed by (
cession headed <
full Halloween
to Scissors Cr
Julian.

There the olc
crosses the hig
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Glatman told th
the old¥ stage r«
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ward a small wat
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“That's where
turned his back
the officers probs

Under the plan:
coat, a shoe, the j
feet beyond, the
human bones. Se,
had been scatte
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found.

Then Glatmar
know where the

So once again t
dirt road that wa
coaches,

Thirty-two mi
mile from the In
man halted the ;
a huge bluff loon
and headed for

Suddenly ther:
wash, they saw ;
a large mop of je:
to the bare sku
shake the stronge
man.

He looked at 1)
“T liked her best

Police were puz
fresh tire tracks
commented, “It's
anyone could hav
out noticing that

While the par
Centro, the coron
Gallagher, went +

a LT ETE TORRY Ts NE eae

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ee a

hike

Shirley Bridgeford was, not a model; Glatman met her through a Lonely Hearts Club.
But her fate was the same, these two pictures taken by Glatman show.
For the killings, Glatman has been sentenced to death; his execution is pending.

bo
es)


MEMBER OF THE WEDDING

The best man was along, -
and she had pleasant thoughts
about a honeymoon—

then shots rang out

in the Mojave Desert

BY EDWARD 8S.S8SULLIVAN

* _ y ~ i. :
“One shot killéd her,” killer said. “He begged for ‘mercy.’

OUTHERN CALIFORNIA’S vast, sun-blasted

Mojave Desert, extending from the Colorado
River to the Los Angeles area, was a fearsome

death trap for the trail-breakers of pioneer ‘days.

Not so very long ago ‘its lonely, blistered ‘wastes

were strewn with bleaching bones of men and ani-_

mals. Death Valley was well named. Today the
white heart of Mojave, a center of military activities,
is traversed by speedy modern highways. Today's
traveler rarely gives a thought to perils of the desert.
But, even a. short distance off the beaten tracks,
Mojave still remains a cryptic, brooding, simmering
furnace-land, more congenial to death than to life.
Over last Labor Day week end U.S. Highway 395, one of
the main routes across the Mojave, was thronged with holi-
day traffic to and from the Sierra Nevada Mountain resorts
to the north. For the workmen building a new section of
highway at the southern edge of the desert northwest of
Victorville in San Bernardino County, the long week-end
holiday was a blessed relief from sweltering toil with heavy
equipment in temperatures hovering around 100 degrees.
But early Tuesday morning, September 8, 1959, the state
highway department crew reported back on the job.
Eric Aduddell, acting foreman, reached the desert con-.
struction site at 7:30 a.m. It was at the foot of the Shadow
Mountains, six miles north of the little town of Adelanto,
just outside George Air Force Base. U.S. 395 was being re-
routed at that point, some 400 feet west of the existing road-
way. Walking around the back of a big paver and happen-
ing to glance up the right of way, Aduddell spotted the two

figures lying partly on the ridge of black road-mix material

that lined the west side of the unfinished roadbed. Squinting

and shading his eyes in the white glare, he saw that they ©

were a man and a woman, fully dressed.

“Look at that!” he. called, .“A couple sprawled out here,
right in the road. Must have been here all night. Drunk,
probably.” He started toward the prostrate pair. “Hey, you
two, that’s no place to sleep!” Then, abruptly, a few yards

from the motionless figures, the highway crew boss stopped"

in his tracks with a startled yelp, “Good God! They’re dead!”

_The decomposing corpses were those of a young man and:
a young woman, The man wore gray gabardine slacks and’
white shirt; the woman a sleeveless gray dress, and nylon.
stockings, but no shoes. They were sprawled side by side’
.on their backs in the tarry road-mix, about a foot apart,

their arms outflung. Their heads, partly turned toward each

other, were covered with dark, crusted blood. The man’s

slacks were stiff with dried blood. }
“Don’t touch them,” the foreman cautioned his excited

men, “and don’t walk around here, Better get back on the.
gtavel. There may be tracks or something. You fellows stay

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to have initials “R.N.” scratched on
the inner side. Sheriff Bland assigned
a dozen men to work on this lead,
and they began by checking with
school authorities in Santa Monica
and San Marino.

By nightfall on that day after
Labor Day, the double murder in the
desert was top news on television,
radio and in all newspapers through-
out Southern California. The imme-
diate result was an avalanche of calls
to the sheriff's office from persons
who thought they had pertinent in-
formation, from others who thought
they might know the thus-far anon-
ymous victims, and from cranks and
“aberrants’ who can always. be
counted upon to intrude on such in-
vestigations.

All the information had to be
checked out. Most of it was useless,
but the efforts were not entirely
wasted: among other things, two
rough-looking men who had stolen a
Cadillac were apprehended. They
could not be connected with the des-
ert killings, but they were held on
the auto theft charge.

Sheriff Bland’s men experienced a
flurry of optimism at one point when
two women from Inglewood, which is
near Hawthorne, reported that they
thought the slain brunette was their
niece, and they suspected she might
have been killed by her two broth-
ers-in-law. The girl’s parents were
located, taken to the mortuary, and
made a tentative identification of the
girl, although they said they had
never seen the tattoo on her thigh.

The brothers-in-law were picked
up. but they had alibis.

A dental chart eventually showed
that the murder victim was a differ-
ent girl altogether.

Then Hawthorne police came
through with more information. They
had caught up with one of the ten-
ants of the apartment on East 120th
Street, George Smiley, a young me-
chanic who lived there with his wife
and another couple. He told police he
couldn't recall having written down
his address for anyone, but that a
friend of his, Hank Williams, fit the
description of the tall man found shot
in the desert. Maybe Williams had
written down his address, he sug-
gested.

After an intensive search operation
that covered half a dozen communi-
ties in California with names that
bore the initials “SM,’ the school
monogram, as well as numerous
schools with similar initials, the class
ring found on the murdered man was
traced. “The “SM” stood for San
Marino Prep School, near Pasadena.
And the only graduate in the Class of
1949 whose initials were “R.N.” was
Richard Lee Nowlen, the adopted
son of a wealthy resident of Pasa-
dena. And thereby hung a curious
tale.

Young Dick Nowlen, despite the
unlimited advantages which had been
showered upon him, was a wellknown
police figure in the Los Angeles area.
The tall, handsome, curly-headed
man, at 28, was currently wanted as
an escaped prisoner from a Chino
prison honor camp. The description
of Nowlen in police files fit the des-
ert murder victim to the proverbial T.

Somewhere along the line, Richard
Lee Nowlen had been derailed from
the tracks along which conventional

34

society travels. He had been adopted
when he was five, and was reared
with love and affection by parents for
whom money was never a problem
He had been given educational and
cultural advantages which come to
few youngsters of his age. He was an
electrical engineer, when he worked,
but his record showed a long series
of arrests in Los Angeles, Glendale,
Pasadena and elsewhere, on charges
which included robbery, assault, kid-
naping, drunk driving, forgery, bad
checks and parole violation.

On August 9, 1959, Nowlen had es-
caped, along with two other young
convicts, from the Chino prison road
camp at Cedar Springs near Mount
Wilson. His two companions were re-
captured, but Nowlen remained at
large until he was found murdered in
the desert a month after his escape.

Announcement of the identification
of the male slaying victim in the des-
ert tragedy quickly led to the identi-
fication of his female companion in
death. She turned out to be Patricia
Hurley Skene, alias Pat Zeltman,
alias Pat Cole, alias Margaret Scott,
27, daughter of a respectable Los
Angeles area family whose children,
unfortunately, had not lived up to
their fine upbringing. Her brother
had been one of the prisoners who
escaped with Dick Nowlen. And she
was the ex-wife of a man still doing
time in prison.

If they got around to it during
their association before they were
murdered, Pat Skene and Dick Now-
len probably could have whiled away
an evening comparing their records.
In 1955 she had been convicted of
forgery and put: on five years proba-
tion. An arrest for narcotics posses-
sion in October, 1958 won her a sen-
tence of a year in the Los Angeles
County women’s facility at Terminal
Island, from which she had been re-
leased on parole on July 22nd, about
a month and a half before someone
put a bullet between her eyes.

Lieutenant Keene and _ Inspector
Oxnevad, still seeking a_ starting
point from which to get a line on the
killer or killers of Pat Skene and
Dick Nowlen, decided to begin at
Chino Prison, where Nowlen had
been serving a sentence before he
escaped. They checked on the possi-
bility of a prison feud which may
have led to the murder of Nowlen
and his companion, They ran a de-
tailed check of all prisoners released
since the date Nowlen and his pals
broke out. They interviewed Pat
Skene’s brother, who had enjoyed
short-lived freedom after escaping
with Nowlen. ;

The hard work of the two officers
was not immediately productive, but
neither was it a total loss, for a short
time later it helped them to turn up
information that Dick and’ Pat had
been living for over a week with one
Bubber Hart, also an ex-con, and his
girl friend, Sandra Kay Grounds, 22,

‘in a house on Doty Avenue, in Len-

nox, near Hollywood Park. The house
was now vacant and neighbors said
they had not been seen since the
night of Friday, September 4th.
Sandra, who reportedly was preg-
nant, passed as Hart’s common-law
wife and used his last name. Appar-
ently they had left with Dick Nowlen
and Pat Skene on Friday night, at the
start of the Labor Day week end.

‘tomy si

This young brunette switched lovers in mid-stream, soon found herself all alone


This young man thought he should be able to cohabit with his wife while in prison

Inspector Oxnevad had a pickup
order issued for Bubber Hart and
Sandra, who were reported to be
traveling in her gray 1949 two-door
Ford.

The pieces of the murder “puzzle,
which at long last seemed to be fall-
ing into a comprehensible pattern,
were rudely shaken back into confu-
sion, however, when detectives heard
from a man in Colton whose story
clashed with previously established
findings. According to this informant,
he had seen a man and a woman
stretched out on the ground at the
murder scene early Sunday morning,
September 6th. He said he had gotten
out of his car and was sure he had
seen the pair sprawled on the ridge of
black road-mix.

He had not approached very close
to them, however, because he as-
sumed they were sleeping. He said he
didn’t want to get involved with such
eccentric people, so he got back in
his car and drove off.

The man’s story was convincing.
He said it was about 8 o’clock Sun-
day morning. He said he had noticed
the soda bottles lined up in the sand.
Detectives took him out to the desert
area, and let him out of the car some
distance from the exact-murder spot,
but he went right to it.

If the man from Colton was right,
Sheriff Bland had been right to be
skeptical of the grocer’s story; the
new information placed the bodies at
the scene 24 hours earlier than the
previous estimate.

Obviously, the investigation was “a
long way from home.”

Routinely, Inspector Oxnevad or-
dered a stakeout placed on the last
spot where Dick Nowlen and Pat
Skene were known to have been, the
house on Doty Avenue in Lennox.
Then the inspector and Lieutenant
Keene returned to another aspect
which had been touched on only
lightly, up to now, the house in Haw-
thorne, the address of which had
been on the memo slip found under

‘Nowlen’s body.

George Smiley, according to Haw-
thorne police, had told an_ open,
forthright story, which no one had
any reason to doubt. Inspector Oxne-
vad now interested himself in the
couple who shared Smiley’s apart-
ment, one Mel Mooler, a carpenter,
and his wife.

The inspector’s interest bore fruit
with the discovery, gleaned from the
sheriff’s files, that Mooler had a rec-
ord of arrests for burglary. Oxnevad
sent detectives to question Smiley
again, and they were joined by
Chemist Longhetti and Los Angeles
Homicide Sergeant Bill Eisen, who
were waiting when Mel Mooler got
home that evening. Mooler made no
secret of his record, but he flatly de-
nied knowing Dick Nowlen, Pat
Skene, Sandra Grounds, alias Hart,
or Bubber Hart.

Asked to empty his pockets, it was
discovered that Mooler carried a
small loose-leaf memo pad, the paper
supply of which was an_ identical
match for the slip of paper found
under Dick Nowlen’s body!

But when asked to explain this,
Mooler shrugged. “Maybe I wrote
that address,” he said offhandedly.
“Maybe I didn’t. I give my address to
a lots of people. I wrote it down for a
fellow I met in a bar just a week or

so ago. I invited him to drop over
here for a drink sometime. I don't
remember his name. I got nothin’ to
hide.

“T just don’t know how my address
came to be on the guy that was mur-
dered.”

Mooler was arrested and later
booked on suspicion of murder. He
was taken to Adelanto, but the
grocer could not identify him as«one
of the “crumbs” who had been in his
store on Monday morning.

“I’m convinced Mooler knows more
than he’s telling,” Lieutenant Keene
told Sheriff Bland. “He may not be
one of the actual killers, but he was
in Chino at the same time that Now-
len was there. He claims they never
met, but in my book, it’s just too
much of a coincidence that Nowlen
would have been carrying Mooler’s
address just by accident.”

Further investigation established
beyond any doubt that Mooler had
not left the Hawthorne area during
the holiday week end. Hence, he
could not have been one of the killers
of the couple in the desert, but he
was held for possible parole violation
when it was learned that he had very
likely been associating with ex-con-
victs.

This gave investigators a _ lever
with which they could apply pres-
sure, and very soon they turned up
new information from a number of
paroled convicts, badly frightened at
the prospect that they might be re-
turned to prison for parole violation,
namely, associating with other ex-
cons.

One admitted to officers that he
and Mooler had been at Bubber
Hart’s house Friday night. Also pres-
ent, he said, were Dick Nowlen, Pat
Skene, and a number of other people.

Braced with this new information,
Mel Mooler decided to talk, and hast-
ened to add that the reason he
hadn't done so sooner was not be-
cause he had any connection with the
Mojave murders, but because he was
afraid of getting “hung up” with his
parole board and being sent back to
serve out his sentence. Mooler now
said he had indeed met Pat Skene
and Dick Nowlen at the house on
Doty Avenue. He insisted, however.
that he had written his address down
for another guy he met there. an ex-
con from the South somewhe

“I got no idea how Nowlen got hold
of it.” he added.

Piecing together the information
gleaned from statements giv by
Mooler and several others, investiga-
tors found reason to believe that the
meeting Friday night at Bubber
Hart's home had been attended by a
dozen or more small-time ex-cons
parolees, and some of their girls. Hart
and Nowlen appeared to have ar-
ranged the get-together, and the
group had discussed grandiose plans
for setting up a floating check-for-
gery operation and a holdup ring.

Police questioned nearly everyone
who had attended, but none would
admit any knowledge about the mur-
ders. An all-points bulletin was is-
sued for the arrest of Bubber Hart
and Sandra Grounds on suspicion of
murder. A show-up was held for the
Adelanto grocer, but again he was
unable to pick out any of the ex-
cons as the men he had seen with the

(Continued on page 54)

35

young couple in his store.

The search for Hart and his com-
mon-law wife ranged all ‘over the
Western states, but soon swung south
of the border when it was learned
from a tipster that Sandra and Bub-
ber had quite suddenly, right after
Labor Day, decided to visit Mexico.

This information, at first thought to
be just one more rumor, was con-
firmed soon afterwards when Inspec-
tor Oxnevad received word that a
friend of Sandra’s had just received
a letter from her. It was postmarked
Ciudad Obregon, in the Mexican
State of Sonora, just south of the
Arizona border. Ciudad Obregon is a
city of some 30,000 population.

Inspector Oxnevad had a Spanish-
speaking deputy call the police in the

Mexican city to request a check on .

the fugitive couple. They reported
back shortly that the wanted couple
had been located at a hotel where
they had been staying since shortly
after Labor Day.

At the request of Sheriff Bland,
District Attorney Lowell E. Lathrop
on September 15th issued formal
complaints charging Bubber Hart and
Sandra Kay Grounds with murder.
Armed with warrants for the arrest
of the fugitive couple, Inspector Ox-
nevad and Lieutenant Wayne Mat-
thewson took a plane to the Sonora
city.

They arrived in Ciudad Obregon
on Sept. 17th, presented their war-
rants at police headquarters, and the
police chief oot accompanied
them with a party of local officers to
the hotel where the couple was stay-
ing. Sandra and her companion could
have qualified as the most surprised
people in Mexico when they opened
their hotel room door and found
themselves facing nearly a dozen
policemen, including two Americans
from California. The chief informed
them they were under arrest, but a
surprise was in store for the Califor-
nia homicide detectives.

The man with Sandra, it now
turned out, was not Bubber Hart. It
was Lawrence “Chris” Garner, a
close pal of Hart’s. Inspector Oxne-
vad asked for an explanation. —

It was very simple, the way they
told it. The pregnant brunette and
the 30-year-old ex-con, a slightly
built character with wavy black hair
and shifty dark eyes, said that Bub-
ber and Sandra had decided to end
their relationship after all three had
come to Mexico together. Bubber had
gone back to the States.

Chris and Sandra apparently suc-
cumbed to love at second sight and
were married in a Mexican civil cer-
emony on September 15th.

The ‘ apPY couple made it clear
they would not talk about the double
murder in the Mojave Desert, but
Inspector Oxnevad found one more
bright spot in the picture. The Ciu-
dad Obregon police chief told him
about it.

After the inquiry from the States
about the ptieas a few days earlier,
one of his men had done some nosing
about and discovered that Garner
had sold a .45 automatic pistol. It had
been recovered from the buyer and
the chief now turned it over to the
inspector.

Among Chris Garner’s papers, In-
spector Oxnevad found the ex-con’s
last address in San Bernardino. He

54

Wedding Gift Was Murder trom soce ase

pe PRR RS RO Te,

promptly relayed it to Sheriff Bland
in a telephone call. Deputies, armed
with a search warrant, went to Gar-
ner’s room and “took it apart,” with
gratifying results. They reportedly
found Dick Nowlen’s wallet and
jacket, and Pat Skene’s purse’ and
shoes.

District Attorney Lathrop immedi-
ately issued a third complaint, this
one charging Chris Garner with mur-
der, jointly with the others.

The prisoners were returned to
San Bernardino and Sandra Grounds
Garner shortly broke down under
questioning. She reportedly told of-
ficers that Bubber Hart had shot
Dick Nowlen and Pat Skene in an
argument, claiming that she and
Chris Garner were merely witnesses.

According to her story, Dick and
Patty had decided to get married in
Las Vegas, and alk five of them had
started out for the Nevada gambling
mecca in Sandra’s Ford, planning to
finance the honeymoon with money
obtained in stickups. They stopped
in the desert for target practice and
Bubber got into some sort of an argu-
ment with Dick. Sandra said Bubber
shot the couple before she and Chris
knew what was happening. :

When it came to une ing out de-
tails of the double ing in repeat-
ed ‘questioning, however, Sandra
crossed herself up. Garner held out
for a while, but eventually he con-
fessed that it was he who had done
the shooting. Hart, the said,\ hadn’t
even been a member of the wedding
party. Chris Garner said he was to
have been the best man.

According to the statement given
by Garner, the slayings occurred at
6:30 Sunday morning, September 6th.

This proved that Sheriff Bland’s
hunch had been correct: The Ade-
lanto grocer had been mistaken in
his identification of the quartet he
saw in his store on Monday.

Garner said he and Sandra left for
Las Vegas with Pat and Dick early
Sunday morning, after attending a
party Saturday night in Los. Angeles.
Chris, it was agreed, would be best
man at the wedding, and also would
assist in the holdups to finance the
trip. ©

‘But Chris began to get cold feet
and when they stopped in El Monte
to get something to eat, he told Now-
len he wanted to back out of the
holdup deal. Garner claimed that
Dick then threatened dire retribu-
tion on Garner’s family if he didn’t
go through with it.

“T didn’t like this Nowlen anyway,”
Garner explained. “When I told him
to count me out of the heist jobs, and
he threatened to hurt my family, I
made up my mind to kill him. When
we got up to the desert, I looked
around for a ha spot. Dick had the
gun, his .45. I’ve never owned a gun.
So I had to get it away from him.

“We sto to stretch our legs
and I told. I'd like to try some
target shooting with the .45. We went
off a little way and we both shot at
some soft drink bottles we'd bought.
The girls stayed in the car.

“I suddenly turned around and
shot Newlen in the groin. He fell
down. He begged for mercy. I shot
him in the head, and that finished
him. I went back to the car and told
Pat there’d been an accident and that
I'd shot Dick. ;

new husband’s story. The

1

“She jumped out of the car and ran
to where he lay. She took his head in
her lap and held him in her arms. She

-eried, ‘Baby! Baby’, and she kept

cursing me. So I shot her. The one
shot ed her. ; “afi

“Then Sandra and I started away
in the car. We talked it over and then
we went back and took the identifi-
cation off the bodies.” :

Sandra had nothing to add to her
little ex-
con obliged authorities by reenacting
the killings for cameras operated by
crime lab technicians, and investiga-
tors who had worked on the case
from the outset believed he had told
them the truth. Y
_ Lawrence Chris Garner and his
new bride, Sandra, were arraigned in
Victorville justice court on the joint
murder charge on September 22nd
and were ordered held without bail.
The ‘charges against Bubber Hart, at
first wanted as an accessory after the
fact of murder, were eventually
dropped on the motion of the district
attorney, who said that the evidence
against him, after a full investiga-
tion, did not warrant prosecution.

October 6th, Chris Garner and
Sandra were indicted by the grand
jury. Their trial, in May of 1960, was
the first in San Bernardino under
California’s new system of having the
jurors determine the penalty for the
crime. Under this system, the jury
must deliberate on two verdicts, the
guilt or innocence of the accused,
and, if the verdict is guilty, the pun-
ishment to be meted out. to. the con-
victed person. ;

Garner’s defense against the charge
of murder was unique. It hinged al-
most exclusively on his contention
that Dick Nowlen was “an arrogant
character” who had attempted to
force him into participating in
planned robberies.

U nique or not, the jury was not
impressed. They found him guilty as
charged.

Then they had to retire again to
reach. agreement on what punish-

ment he should receive for his
crime of double murder. They took
three days to deliberate this phase of

the trial, and another unique facet
was added to the strange case when
they finally came in with their verdict
on May 18, 1960.

Their verdict was that Lawrence
Christopher Garner should be sen-
tenced to death—not once, but twice!

The action was one of those legali-
ties which are so often baffling to the
layman. The rationale behind what
appears to be a ridiculous superfluity
is to make it as difficult as possible
for a convicted slayer to escape pay-
ing the penalty decreed for him. In
any appeal, each sentence of death
would have to be argued separately.
The double sentence is predicated on
the possibility that while the appel-
lant might win mercy on one count, it
would be much more difficult for him
to win clemency on two death sen-
tences.

Sandra, who also was convicted on
two counts of first-degree murder,
was sentenced to life imprisonment.

Not surprisingly, Chris Garner did
not keep his appointed date with the
executioner. The inevitable series of

appeals ensued,. followed by the in-
evitable series of stays of execution.
And from his Death House cell in
San Quentin, Garner proved to be a
very vocal prisoner. He began cru-
sading for drastic revision of Califor-

oe Eee,

nia penal practices.

Now playing the role of social re-
former, the little guy issued repeated
pleas for amendments to the penal
laws which would permit married
prisoners to enjoy connubial rela-
tions. He cited Mexico, and a few
other Latin-American countries as a
precedent, but he was necessarily
vague when pressed for proof that
such practices had accomplished any-
thing worthwhile, other than the
gratification of physical urges of con-
fined prisoners.

When he finally realized that if
California was going to act on his
recommendations, it would not do so
in time to do him any good, Garner
filed a petition for one “final moment
of personal contact” in what he
termed a “non-conjugal visit” with
his wife.

All he wanted now was permission
for his wife and partner in crime,
Sandra, to meet with him in a San
Quentin visiting room before his exe-
cution. It had recently been sched-
uled for September 4, 1962. ;

‘Garner’s petition was referred to
Judge Thomas F. Keating in Marin
County Superior Court. Since his
wife was herself a prisoner, only a
court order could effect her transpor-
tation to San Quentin.

He even had a precedent to cite for
his unusual request. Julius and Ethel
Rosenberg, who had been executed
as spies, “were granted a last and
parting meeting before being put to
death.”

At least one judge reportedly
termed Garner’s request “unrealistic,
improper and illegal.”

A compromise was reached, how-

ever. Garner and his wife were told
that they could talk on the telephone
for 15 minutes. At 10 o’clock on the
morning of Friday, August 31st, Gar-
ner was taken from his cell to the
office of Associate Warden Louis S.
Nelson and left there. with only one
guard.
. At the same moment, in the Wom-
en’s Prison at Corona, accompanied
by Acting Superintendent May Bu-
walda, Sandra Garner -was awaiting
the call. The connection was made
and the guards considerately re-
mained at a discreet distance during
the time the couple conversed on the
telephone.

Later Garner said, “Everybody
bent over backwards for us. I have
no complaints and I am deeply grate-
ful. I love my wife more any-
thing in the world. I would like to see
her freed, so that she can live a de-
cent, constructive life.”

A series of last-minute attempts to
win yet another stay of execution for
Chris Garner failed. :

His last act was to bequeath his
eyes to the University of California
Medical School. He requested that
both a Catholic and a Jewish chaplain
be permitted to spend his last hours
with him and this was granted. He
walked into the death chamber ac-
—* by the chaplains of both

The doors of the grim gas chamber
were closed and dogged down to seal
off the fumes which presently would
fill it. The lethal pellets were dropped
at 10:04 am. Lawrence Christopher

Garner was pronounced dead at 10:12.
kkk

The names George Smiley, Bubber
Hart, Mel Mooler and Hank Williams,
as used in the foregoing story, are fic-
titious.


Lab. man examines the
school class ring which
helped identify victim.

OUBLE
MURDER
SPLITS
THE FOUR HONEYMOONERS

The police wondered why one couple had been murdered .

This is a story of the’ strange con-

tagion of crime .. . How crime, like

guinea pigs, breeds: more of the same.

And breeds hate and. distrust: among
conspiring criminals.

It has the same intriguing fascination:

of a flute for a cobra.

HE BODIES were found in the
early morning of Tuesday. Sep-
tember 8; 1959—the day after
Labor Day. They were sprawled
on top: of a head of road-paving ma-

terial 400 feet off Highway 395, to the’

north of Adelanto, California, just be-
fore it begins to cut through the Mojave
Desert. They were discovered by Eric
Aduddell, an operator of the California
Highway Division-in charge of road re-
pairs in the area, who lost no time in
contacting the office of the San Ber-
nardino County Sheriff.

At once County Deputy William Pats,
terson, from the sub-station at Victor-

ville, started for the scene, along with _

a group of top homicide investigators.
It: was a curiously macabre tableau

}

that confronted them. There, on the top
of the heap of paving material, a young
couple were stretched out side by side,
face-up, hands folded on their chests.
A’ comparatively peaceful scene, except
for the ugly gunshot wound between
the young girl’s s eyes: and the fact that
the top of theman’s head was a bloody
mass from a lethal bullet’ wound.

Surrounding. the bodies were some
seventeen’ cartridge shells, six of them
from’ .38 bullets and eleven from a .45
calibre pistol. Some fifty feet away
from the spot where the dead. couple
rested a half a dozen ‘large size soda
bottles had been set up. One of them
had been smashed into fragments. Ob-
viously someone had been doing a little
target shooting. But there were no guns
to be found.

The dead man was about’ six feet in
height: and apparently in his late twen-
ties. He was dressed in gray slacks: a
white shirt. a black tie—an unusual ar-
ticle of attire in those parts—ard black
oxfords. On his finger was a ring with
a crest and the marking “SM 1949.”

The girl was slim, with an attractive

.. Where were the other two?

figure: She had’ dark brown hair worn
in a pony.tail’style. She was wearing a
gray dress and nylon Senne but no
shoes.

Nor were any shoes to be found in
the vicinity.

Already..as a result of the combina-
tion of the blistering desert ‘sun and
the heat: held by the asphalt paving
material, the bodies had started to de-
compose.

Studying the unpleasant scene. Homi-
cide Lieutenant Barton ‘Keene shook
his head somberly. “No car. no guns.
no quick means of identification.” he
pointed out. “Looks as though this time
we really start from scratch.”

“We start from behind scratch if we
don’t hurry things along.” Identifica-
tion Detective John C. Melver correct-
ed as he prepared to. photograph the
scene. “Unless we start soaking their
hands in water it’s going to be hard to
get any fingerprints. You'll notice the
fingers have already begun to shrivel
up from the heat.”

There was no sign of a struggle of
any sort in the vicinity. At first glance

25


oe

ing in Cuidad Obregon on Sept. 17th.

_ » Accompanied by, local Officers, the
police chief took the Americans to the
hotel and arrested the surprised fugitives.
The American officers were in for a sur-
prise of their own, however.

Sandra’s roommate, it developed, was.

not the elusive Sam Stark. It was Stark’s
pal, Lawrence ‘‘Chris’? Garner. Sandra
explained matter-of-factly that Sam had
come to Mexico with them, but she split
up with him soon afterwards. Sam went
back to the States, and she and Chris were
married in Guaymas on September 15th.

She and Chris were not talking about

the murder of Nowlen and Pat. But the ,

Cuidad Obregon police chief had a
pleasant surprise for the American
Officers, :

‘ ‘Learned this man sold a .45 automa-
tic a few days ago,” he said. ‘‘We have

recovered it. I have it at headquarters.’? :

Inspector Oxnevad also managed to
learn Chris Garner’s last address in San
Bernardino from papers in his Pposses-:
_ Sion. He wired this to Sheriff Bland and
meanwhile deputies sent to search the
place found Pat Skene’s purse and shoes,
_and Dick Nowlen’s jacket and wallet.

Chris Garner was thereupon formally
charged with murder.

He and Sandra were flown back to San
Bernardino, and the full Story was not
long emerging. Sandra cracked under
questioning and became the first to talk.
According to officers who interrogated
her, Sandra claimed Sam Stark had shot

Nowlen and Pat Skene after an argument. _
She and Chris Garner, she insisted, were _

merely innocerit bystanders.

It dll began, she said, when Patty and
Dick had decided to get married, select-
ing Las Vegas as the place. All:five of
them, in Sandra’s gray Ford, had started
out for Vegas. They had planned to fi-

~-Mance their friends’ honeymoon with

‘stickups.

. They had stopped in the desert to in-
dulge in“target practice, she continued,
and it was during this stop that Stark
became involved in an argument with
Dick. He shot both Nowlen and Patty
before she and Chris realized what was
happening. . bares

It was an interesting story, but San-
dra’s listeners doubted its accuracy. Sub-
sequent developments ptoved their
doubts were wellfounded.

It was Chris Garner himself who sup-
Plied the proof. Inspector Oxnevad and
Lieutenant Keene, together with other
deputies, had found numerous inconsis-
tencies in Chris’ answers to their ques-

"tions. Repeatedly, they took him back

over the same ground. Finally, under

72 Master Detective

\

ET emanate ne tn ene

intensive interrogation, he admitted he
alone had been the triggerman in the
double shooting. Sam Stark had not even
been a member of the wedding party.
Chris was to have been Dick Nowlen’s
best man and he got out of the job by
killing the prospective bride and groom.

Once and for all, at this point, the
Story of the grocer was proved to have no
relation to the murder of Nowlen and Pat
Skene. Chris Garner stated positively
that he had shot the couple at 6:30 on
Sunday morning, which was about 26
hours before the grocer had’ seen his *
Suspicious foursome in his store.

' Garner said they had set out for Vegas
in the wee hours of Sunday morning on
Saturday. night. It was agreed that Chris
and Sandra would be the best man and
bridesmaid at the wedding of Dick and
Pat, and that the men would then pull a
few stickups in and around Las Vegas.

Chris, however, began to chicken out
on the deal. During a stop for food at E]
Monte, Chris told Dick he had decided
he wanted no part of the stickup plans.

According to Garner’s story, Dick
then threatened dire’ harm to Garner’s
family if Chris didn’t go through with the
deal as planned.

“I didn’t like this Nowlen anyway,”’
Chris explained to the officers. “When I
told him to count me out of the heist jobs,
he threatened to hurt my family. That’s
when I made up my mind to kill him.

‘‘When we: got the desert, I looked
around for a good spot. Dick had the
gun, his .45. I never owned a gun, so I
had to get it away from him.. We stopped
to stretch our legs, and I told him I’d like
to try some target shooting with the .45.
We went off a little away from the girls
and we both shot at some pop bottles
-we’d bought. The girls were in the car.

.““d suddenly turned around and shot

‘ Nowlen in the groin. He fell down. He

begged for mercy. I shot him in the head,
and that finished him. I went back to the
car and told Pat there’d been an accident
and that I’d shot Dick. .

““She jumped out of the car and ran to
where he lay. She took his head in her lap
and held him in her arms. She ‘cried,
‘Baby, Baby,’ and she kept cursing me.
So I shot her. The one shot killed her.

“Then Sandra and I started away in
the car. We talked it over and then we
went back and took the identification off
the bodies.’’

Chris Garner later consented to return
to the scene of the murders and there he
reenacted the shootings in the presence
of officers and witnesses.

Sam Stark, still wanted for murder,
was captured on September 24th. The
grand jury, on October 6th, indicted
Lawrence Garner and Sandra Grounds
Garner for murder. But on October 13th,
the district attorney made a motion,
which was granted, to drop the murder
charge against Sam Stark. Investigation,
he said, had shown that the evidence did
not warrant prosecution.

The trial of Chris, and Sandra Garner,
in May of 1960, was the first in San
Bernardino County to use California’s

* New two-jury system. Under this system

* the jury first passed on the guilt of inno-
cence of the accused, then retired to de-
liberate and assess ‘the punishment for
the crime. —

Garner’s defense in his trial was uni-
que, in that it hinged almost exclusively
on his contention that Dick Nowlen was
‘‘an arrogant character’? who had
attempted to force him into Participating
in planned robberies. It came as no sur-
prise to anyone that the jury was not
swayed by this remarkable explanation
for two murders. They found Garner
guilty, then retired to consider what
punishment was merited by his crime.

These deliberations consumed three
days, and May 18, 1960, the veniremen
came in with their verdict. This also had
a unique quality, for in reality it was two
verdicts, two sentences of death for two
murders.

To lawmen this may seem super-
fluous, but in legal circles such things
have great meaning. Such verdicts are
motivated by desire to make things as
difficult as possible for a convicted
Slayer. He might have wriggled out of
one sentence of death say for the slaying
of Dick Nowlen, it would be much more
difficult for him to win clemency on two
death sentences, however.

Sandra, also convicted on two counts
of murder, was sentenced to life impris-
onment.

Now began the usual series of appeals
which would stay the hand of justice,
seemingly interminably. There was little
of a spectacular nature about Chris Gar-
ner’s chess game at law, however, ex-
cept for his many pleas for revision of
California prison practices.

Sounding for all the world like a social
reformer, Garner called seriously for
amendments which would permit connu-
bial relations between married prisoners
and their spouses. He cited Mexico, anda
few other Latin American countries, as a
precedent, but he was quite vague when
pressed for statistics to prove that this had
accomplished anything significantly
worthwhile, other than the gratification

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of physical urges.

When finally he became convinced
that the State was not going to change its
laws in time for them to do himself any
good, if-ever, Garner, through his attor-
neys, submitted a 12-page petition for
one ‘‘final moment of person contact’’ in
what he termed would be a ‘‘non-
conjugal visit.’’

Now he said he was asking simply that
his wife and crime partner, Sandra, be
allowed to see him in a San Quentin visit-
ing room before his execution, the latest.
scheduled date for which was September
4, 1962.

Garner’s petition was referred to Judge
Thomas F. Keating in Marin County Su-
perior Court. In it he stressed that other
inmates, including the condemned, may
be visited by their wives.

His case, of course, would require spe-

cial consideration because of the fact that
his wife was imprisoned and only a court
order could effect her transportation to
San Quentin.
’ Garner had another precedent to cite
for what he was asking. Julius and Ethel
Rosenberg, executed as spies, ‘‘were
granted a last and parting meeting before
being put to death.’’

Garner’s petition was a moving docu-
ment, but apparently insufficiently mov-
ing to persuade the judge to grant his
plea.

A compromise was effected, however,
by allowing him 15 minutes to speak to

Sandra in a semi-private telephone con-

versation. This event took place on Au-
gust 31st. There was still a chance that
one of Garner’s appeals might be granted
and he would be given yet another stay of
execution.

But now it began to look as if Garner
had reached the end of the tether the law
had granted him. On September 3rd,
Federal Judge Alfonso J. Zirpoli turned
down two appeals for a stay of execution
and a writ of habeas corpus.

Judge’ Zirpoli had no sooner handed
down his decision that Garner’s attorney
rushed to a telegraph office and wired a
six-foot long petition for a writ to U.S.
Supreme Court Justice John M. Harlan.
At nine o’clock on the morning of the
fourth, a scant hour from the time set for

Garner’s execution, Justice Harlan de- }

nied the petition.
Garner’s attorney then made a desper-

ate last-minute plea to Chief Judge

Richard Chambers of the U.S. Circuit

Court of Appeals, but this was also in
vain.

The day before his date with death,
Garner made a most unusual request. He
wanted two Catholic priests and a rabbi
to spend his last hours with him. The
request was granted in part and when he
walked into the gas chamber at 10 a.m..
on the morning of September 4th, he was
accompanied by father John Mullen and
Rabbi I.L. Freund.

Guards swiftly strapped him into the
steel chair. Warden Fred' R. Dickson
asked the condemned man if he had any
last comment,

" Garner quietly said: ‘‘I think every-
thing has been said that could be said.’’

At 10:40 the lethal pellets were drop-
ped. The gas rose around the condemned
man. At 10:12 a.m. Lawrence Christ-
opher Garner was pronounced dead.

O06

Master Detective 73

et


a

a

\ available, it looked as if
en and Pat Skene, his girl
left with the Starks on a’holi-
d outing. They were’thought

*| ing in Sandra’s gray, 1949

' or sedan.
_ les police and Sheriff Bland

| sup order for Stark and San-.

_ r Lennox house was staked
case they returned. ~
, 2 occurred one of those de-
which occasionally crop up
a the best-run homicide in-
' A man from Colton be-
forward and told police he
_ an and woman lying on the
| > murder scene early.on the
_junday, September 6th. He
| ed, got out of his car and
_ td them, but stopped some
_\y when he assumed they
' :ping and it was none of his
drove away and forgot all
| ul the publicity on the case
| 1him to report what he had

' 38 successfully stood his
' to hattery of questions, he
talking about. He said
he saw the ‘‘sleeping
_ lso recalled seeing the row
stuck in the sand. What’s
' 0k him to the vicinity in a
' ected them to the precise
2 bodies had lain.
| the entire timetable of the
| 1structed thus far. ‘It also
_loubt on the information
| © grocer. \
| police finally corralled re-
| 10use at the East 120th St.
: had been scribbled on the
| id under Nowlen’s body. |
| vere occupied by Mr. and
. own, who shared their
|. another couple, Mr. and
| oper. Cooper, 34, had
| lary arrests.
»| 8, deputies were con-
, ‘the clear. Cooper denied
on 6r Pat Skene, but when
_ ty his pockets, he brought
, containing paper identic-
1 under Nowlen’s body.

a nat re

, (on? **Maybe I wrote that

n my address to lots of
it down for a fellow I met

_ week ago. Invited him to’
| ink. I don’t remember his
, Mave anything to hide. I
, ¥ my address came to be

2d guy.’’

‘ vouched for the fact that

fo had been with them
holiday weekend,

OSL RE OO era

Cy

but Cooper was held for further inves-
tigation.

“I’m convinced he knows more than
he’s telling,’’ Lieutenant Keene told
Sheriff Bland. ‘‘He may‘not be one of
the actual killers, but Cooper was in Chi-
no at the same time as Nowlen. He
claims he doesn’t know him. Maybe he
doesn’t but I think it’s too much of a
coincidence that Nowlen would have
been carrying his address by accident.”’

The alibi of Cooper supplied by him-
self and the Browns checked out, but a

check of the names in his notebook

showed that several were ex-convicts,
with whom he was forbidden to associate
by terms of his parole. Universal fright
was the reaction encountered when de-
tectives contacted the ex-cons, and some
of them told the officers that Cooper had
been at Stark’s house the Friday night
before the slayings.

This line of investigation led deputies
to yet another.ex-con who admitted that
both and Cooper had been at Stark’s
place Friday night. Nowlen and Pat
Skene was there, too, he said, as well as
several other people.

Cooper decided to open up when he
was confronted with all this information.
He made it clear his original reluctance
to tell them all:he knew stemmed not
from fear of being nailed on a murder
rap, but rather from fear of trouble with
his parole officer. Cooper said he had
met Nowlen and Pat Skene at Stark’s but
he insisted he had written his address
from another ex-con he met there, a man
from North Carolina.

When detectives had sorted out the
welter of conflicting information they
had compiled, they obtained a clear pic-
ture of the events of Friday night. The
meeting at Stark’s house, they now
knew, had been a conclave of ex-cons

and small-time hoods for the purpose of .

setting up a floating check-forgery and
holdup network.

Sam Stark and Sandra Grounds now
became the prime suspects in the murder
of Dick Nowlen and Pat Skene. An APB
was broadcast for their arrest on sight, on
suspicion of murder. Authorities had
reason to believe they had fled to. Mex-

ico. This was confirmed when they -

learned that a friend had received a letter
from Sandra, postmarked Cuidad Obre-
gon, in Sonora.

Mexican police in that city were re-
quested to run a check on American visi-
tors and shortly reported that Sam Stark
and Sandra Grounds were staying at a
local hotel. Inspector Oxnevad and
Lieutenant Wayne, armed with warrants
for the pair, left at once for Sonora, arriv-

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Master Detective 71

\


> Gireth was locked in a solitary cell. Downstairs in’ the
(s sheriff's office, Adams, Morris, and Radruch> reported the
* results of their investigation,

- Leslie Gireth was born in Hungary. He'd inherited a sub-
stantial sum of money from his grandfather's estate and with
this capital he’d opened a jewelry store. The store had pros-
pered... But after a time, according to rumor, the handsome
young proprietor became involved in an affair which linked

-» his name with that of the wife of a Hungarian nobleman.

There may have been no truth to these stories, but in 1926

‘Leslie Gireth sold his business and came to the United States.
~*~ He settled in Glendale, California, and went to work in a
~~ jewelry store. After a time, he married the boss’s daughter.
~~. For a number of years, Leslie Gireth and his wife were
considered an ideally married cOUple by their friends. His
business prospered. He became a director of the Glendale
_ Chamber of Commerce, was a prominent member of the city’s
» Rotary club. Two children were born to the couple.
eis Dorena Hammer was an attractive young stildent at the
“~~ Glendale Junior College. Although her parents were fairly
»- well-to-do, the pretty girl was anxious to earn some money of

age

school hours, in Gireth’s jewelry store.

‘The dark-eyed jeweler found himself irresistibly attracted
» to the golden-haired college gir].

' The affair between them began innocently. He took her to
lunch. He bought her “cokes” in the drug store on the corner.
But it soon progressed beyond this stage.
ends spent at rendezvous at the nearby mountain resorts.
~ Leslie Gireth was helplessly in love with his beautiful clerk.
- Time and again he tried desperately to break off the affair,
~but each time that weakness which too many men feel when
-confronted by such a situation was too much for him.

>’ Naturally people began to talk. Gireth neglected his family
and his business, and before the year was out Mrs. Anna
Gireth took the preliminary steps to secure a divorce. She
_ charged her husband with cruel and inhuman treatment and
asked a division of the property.

Gireth’s attorneys might have been forced to expose the re-
lationship between.their client’s husband and the college girl.

When Leslie Gireth realized'that scandal threatened to en-
‘gulf the girl, he persuaded Dorena to leave Glendale. After
-a tearful parting, the girl enrolled in the San Jose State Col-
lege. Gireth drove north on several weekends to see her, but
»- as the winter months dragged by their meetings became more
' infrequent,

With this background definitely established, the Alameda
County officers concentrated their attention on the events im-
mediately preceding the murder.

- They, learned that Miss Hammer ‘had recently enrolled in
the Boeing School of Aeronautics at the Oakland airport,
where she was to study meteorology. During her months in
college, she lived at the home of Mrs. P. A. Sadler. Mrs. Sadler
had last seen the girl on Wednesday, July 15.

. “Dorena came home late Wednesday afternoon,” Mrs. Sadler
_ told Condon. “Some man brought her, but he stayed in the
Car,

* “Did she seem upset or depressed ?”

- “No. She was in a very happy mood, She told me she had
a new blond boy friend.”

- “How long did she stay here ?”

“" “Not more than ten minutes. She took a suit box out of
~ the storeroom. | think it contained some clothes she wanted.”
~~ Condon described Gireth’s expensive car.

“I didn’t see the man at all,” Mrs. Sadler replied.
think that was the car.”

“Did Miss Hammer ever mention her friend Gireth to you?”
The landlady shook her head sadly. “No. I wish she had.
I would have told her nothing good would ever come of a
_ situation like that. Dorena wasn’t a bad girl. She was viva-
“cious and full of life and liked a good time, but she kept‘ the
“boys in their place.”

*

“But I

3 A: THE OAKLAND airport, the investigating deputies
be made some startling discoveries. Dorena Hammer had
been a good student, popular and -well liked.
~ + Roy Parker, a handsome blond ‘young man who had re-
_ cently enrolled at the Boeing School, told the deputies that he
had had a date with Dorena on Monday night. _,

-« “Something was troubling her,” Parker said. “I could feel

her own, and in 1941 she took a job working part time, after

There were week-.
“mented. “Dorena and Mrs. Sadler were pretty good friends, ;

To enforce their demand for half the jeweler’s wealth, Mrs. .

it all evening, We went to a restaurant and then drove back
through the Berkeley hills, 1 wanted to go dancing but —
Dorena said she wasn't in the mood for it,
“When we stopped in front of her house she said, ‘Roy, do
you think it’s wrong for a girl to tell a man she doesn’t love ”’
him ?’ hie Be
“1 told her, of course not, if that was the truth. ee
“She said, “But he’s been awfully sweet to me. 1 gave him =).
back his ring and I know it made him very unhappy.’ Uae
“T told her to forget it. She was too young to think about |
getting married, anyway. But we had lunch together. the —/
next day and she was still moody and upset. “ rr
“I saw her on Wednesday and asked her for another date.”
She said she’d let me know. Late that afternoon I fouad a ~
note tucked in my box. It was from Dorena, saying she*
couldn’t make the date this week.” it,
Miss Hammer’s roommate told the deputies that Dorena had.
revealed details of her affair with Gireth to her. A
“Dorena told me everything about the weekends they spent —
together, how swell he was to her. She said ‘He sent me.
away, but now he wants me to come back. 1 don’t know. if.
I’ll go or not. I like it up here.’ ” :
Weaving these scattered bits of information together, the
sheriff's men reconstructed events preceding the shooting. -
Gireth had arrived in Oakland Wednesday noon. He’d picked '
up his sweetheart at the airport and driven her to the Sadler
home in San Jose. ae
“There was a peculiar angle about that call,” Condon: com-"

ae

but she didn't bring Gireth in and introduce him. She even.
went out of her way to say the man in the car was her cousin,
and she talked about this new blond boy friend.”

“Do you think she meant Parker ?”” Gleason asked.

“Well, we know it wasn’t Gireth. Then she got a suit S.
box she had stored there at Sadler’s. Naturally, Mrs. Sadler:
thought it contained clothing, but Dorena wasn’t going any- |
where. She must have expected to be back in school Thurs-
day morning. I think that box was full of letters—letters
Gireth had written her.” Sg

“That means she meant to break off the affair.” ig

“Sure, And why not? She wasn’t the kind of a girl to be.
content with a man who belonged to another woman. She oS
was probably flattered at first, when Gireth paid attention to’ ~
her. He was the home big shot, and she was the little school”
girl. But once she got away from him, she began to see the
situation as it really was.” a

“I think you’ve got it figured out about right,” Sheriff).
Gleason agreed. “He didn’t want her to leave him, But she as
was determined. She gave the letters back to him. It was to *
be farewell.” -

“And of course he couldn’t take it,” Adams theorized. “So
he shot her. And we know that he killed her between mid- me
night and 6 a.M. Thursday morning. That fits in with our”
theory that she intended to go back to school.”

“He stayed there in the cabin most (Continued on page 62)

’

»

JEWELRY FOUND on the dead girl . . . The ring, bearing the inscrip- ©

tion “To Dorena from Les,” was a gift from the man who killed her |.

“to avoid scandal which would have ruined her life,”
¢ Le ms



Where was the dead girl’s husband?) Had death come as
the climax to some bitter domestic quarrel? Who had supplied
Oakland police with the mysterious tip-off ?

The deputy sheriff strode through the other two rooms,
bathroom and kitchenette, of the tiny apartment. They were
empty.

Condon raced across the courtyard to his car, switched on

' the two-way radio, and jerked the microphone from its dash-
board rack.
“Deputy Sheriff Condon calling Alameda County sheriff’s
- office.”

Like a responsive echo, the receiving radio speaker came
~~. to life.
“Alameda County sheriff’s office. Go ahead, Condon.”
“That tip was on the level. I’m at the Casa Del Monterey

m\

THE LUXURIOUS auto court (below) where the man and girl, known

’ as "Mr, and Mrs. Gireth.” had stopped several times. Was it music
»- that muffled the sound of shots so that no one heard them?

Mrs. L, B. Gireth.”
~ “Stay where you are, Condon.
~ Call us back if you get anything.”

Ten minutes later Sheriff H. P. “Jack” Gleason, who had
been roused from sleep to receive the report of the auto court
Ee killing, arrived at his office to take charge of the investigation.

ee Gleason checked with Rossi and learned that the mysterious
-4- call had been traced to a hotel in Fresno, California. The
"© -caller had been identified by the desk clerk as Leslie B. Gireth.

~. “That’s the girl’s name,” Gleason told the patrolman.
“Well, that’s all we got on it,” Rossi said.
“Okay, I’ll call Fresno.” . .
. The sheriff gave the name of the Fresno hotel to his tele-
’ phone deputy. “Ask Fresno police to arrest the man who made
that call and hold him for us,” he ordered. “I’m going to San
' Leandro.”
~~. When Gleason arrived at the auto court, he found Dr.
© Benjamin Black, Alameda County physician, and Deputy
~~. Sheriff Clarence S. Creel of the Hayward substation there
ahead of him. .
The apartment of death was luxuriously furnished. The
flowers and the girl’s possessions, her toilet articles in the bath-
room, gave it a “lived in” quality.

» “That girl isn’t Mrs. Gireth,” Condon announced. “At least
“we found about a hundred letters in her suitcase addressed
~. to Miss Dorena Hammer, 148 South 11th Street, San Jose.
~. They’re all from the same man.”
pee Creel pointed to an expensive portable phonograph on a
little table at one end of the room. “Campbell says that phono-
‘graph was going most of yesterday. He thought it was a
radio.”

Gleason crossed the room and looked at the instrument. The
~ disk was a symphony recording of Debussy’s wistful, senti-
‘mental “Claire de Lune.”

_ /This was murder set to music. .

“Anybody hear the shots?” the sheriff asked.

We'll notify the coroner.

now. The girl in Cab 10 is dead. She’s registered here as.

_It was under the bed.

Campbell shook his head. Pg

Had the killer used the phonograph music to conceal the
sound of the vicious attack? Gleason moved slowly across
the room to the table where the bowl of red carnations added
an incongruous note. Propped against the flowers he saw the
portrait of a handsome young man. Gleason. picked up the
photograph and read the inscription on the back:

“Dorena, my darling. Humble words could never express
how I love you, how I adore you. Always remember that.
Your Les... September 15, 1941.” elas

“That’s the same name signed to the letters,” Condon said.
“He sure must be crazy about her.”

“Yeah,” Gleason commented dryly. “Crazy enough to kill
her. They traced that call. It was Leslie Gireth who gave
Oakland the tip-off.”

Every man in the room turned to stare at the sheriff in
amazement,

“That’s right,” Gleason continued. “Of course he may not
be the real ‘Les.’ I’ve ordered Fresno to pick him up for us.”

Gleason crossed the room and stood beside Dr. Black. As
he looked down at the bed he had no difficulty in understand-
ing why his announcement had been a shock. Even in death
the girl was beautiful. Her cold body retained all the.fresh-
ness and vivacity of youth. /There was an air of refinement
and good breeding which asserted itself despite her pallid still-.
ness.

Dr. Black must have sensed the things in Gleason’s mind.
He quoted the words of Oscar Wilde: “‘For each man kills
the thing he loves.’ ” aa ea

Gleason nodded. ‘When did it happen, Doc?”

“Sometime Thursday morning. She’s been dead approxi--

‘mately 24 hours. It’s a little hard to tell.”

“We found the gun,” Condon volunteered. “A .25 automatic.
This side.” é

Dawn was breaking through the fog-shrouded bay area
when the doctor completed. hig examination.

As Gleason, Creel and Condon headed back to the sheriff’s

office the same perplexing thought plagued them all. What
was the motive? What frenzy of passion had driven someone
to destroy that beautiful girl? Veteran manhunters, the trio
of officers had brought many criminals to justice. But here
was a perplexing mystery—more profound, more mysterious
than any in the breadth of their experience.
. There was a telephone message waiting for Sheriff Gleason
at his office. Leslie Gireth had been arrested. He had con-
fessed the murder of his sweetheart, but he’d offered no ex-
planation for the act.

The sheriff's chief criminal deputy, Harry Adams, took

‘charge of the investigation in Oakland. With Deputy John H.

Morris and Hugo Radruch, investigator for the district at-
torney’s office, Adams set out to discover the background for.
this bizarre murder set to music, tags.
Gleason and Condon left immediately for Fresno. to ques-—
tion the suspect and return him to Oakland. ie
I ee MAN the jailer ushered into the room was slender,
just above medium height. His dark brown eyes were
deep-set beneath a wide forehead. His dark business suit’
was of good quality and well tailored. There could be no.
doubt about it, he was the man in the photograph with the
affectionate inscription which had been. found propped against
the bowl of red carnations in the room of death, ne
“You're the officers from Oakland?” the man spoke with no.
hesitation. j eS
“I’m Sheriff Gleason.” ee
“You found her? You found Dorena?” . ee
“Yes, we found her.”
The man sighed, as though a weight had been lifted from °
his shoulder. ‘Well, I guess we might as well go, then, I am

‘Leslie B. Gireth. I own a jewelry store in Glendale. I did é

own one. But what does that matter? I killed her.” >
“Why did you kill her?” a Peat
“I had to. I loved her. I couldn’t stand to have her in-_

volved in a scandal. It would have ruined her life. “There

was no other way. It’s a long story. You wouldn’t under-

stand, anyway. I'm tired. They woke me up. I'd like to go"

‘somewhere and go to sleep.” As

Despite repeated questions, Gireth refused to say anything
more. On the long ride back to Oakland he dozed ftfull
in the rear seat of the sheriff’s car. The law had its killer.”
But the murder puzzle was far from solved, a eee:

Ske


: Duce. | yp Yb. how

Wa ae

“and details of the mysterious tip-off were relayed to Deputy
_ Sheriff Richard Condon, who was cruising the San Leandro-
Hayward district in Sheriffs Car 17.

The Casa Del Monterey was a luxurious caravansary on
the outskirts of San Leandro, catering to motor tourists who
~~ traveled the inland route to Southern California. \Condon was

~~ well acquainted with it and with Frank Campbell, owner of
the deluxe court. ;

All of the separate apartments were dark when Condon
swung his cruiser into the drive ten minutes later. But there

was a light burning in the office room where tourists register.
~ Condon pushed his way through the door and pushed the
~ night bell. Seconds later, Frank Campbell, in bathrobe and
slippers, stepped through | an inner doorway to the office.

~ “Sorry to disturb you,” Condon began.

The auto court owner rubbed the sleep from his eyes and
* smiled as he recognized his early morning caller, “What's the

~ matter, Dick ?”

~ ° “I don’t know, yet,” Condon admitted. “Oakland got a report

‘there’s a dead girl in Number Ten. Probably a phony, but——”

é “A dead girl? Here?” Campbell picked up the register
~ cards and thumbed through them ‘rapidly. “Somebody's kid-
~~ ding you. Mr, _ Mrs. Gireth in Ten. They’ve stayed here
mC before.”

ah

~ “Well, I have is check it anyway,” Condon said. “Better
- bring‘ your key.”
Campbell led the way through the darkened court. “Some

wise guy’s pulling a fast one,” he grumbled.

_ “When did you see these people last?”

~ “T saw Mr. Gireth yesterday, just before lunch. He said his
“wife was sleeping and not to let the maid disturb her. His
car was in the garage most of the afternoon, and I heard their
* radio going so I know he came back.”

». Campbell stopped before one of the darkened apartments.
“Wait a minute, Dick. Let’s look in the garage and see if his
4 car is here. 1 hate to disturb anyone at this hour.”

THIS 1S THE INSCRIPTION (left) officers read on the back of the
man’s photograph found in the girl's room. Was “Les” the same |
man who had given the strange telephone tip to police?

CARRYING THE VERY PHONOGRAPH which had been found with
his victim, the confessed slayer is escorted by officers into San Quen-'  ”
tin Prison, where he is condemned to die in the gas chamber.

Campbell tugged at the big sliding door and, as it opened, *
he thrust his head inside. When he popped out again there -
was genuine surprise on his face. “The car’s gone. And he —
didn’t check out.” aes

Campbell moved swiftly to the front door of the apartment = *-
and pressed the bell button. Both men could hear the an:
swering tinkle of chimes inside. i

Condon snapped on his flashlight and flashed the beam over”
the door and windows.

The owner of the auto court pressed the button again. The

. musical note died away, but there was no sound of any human. ~

being stirring.- No shuffle of sleepy feet. fi

“Got the key?” The deputy’s voice was tense with excite- ‘
ment. Was the tip-off genuine after all?

After an interval which seemed like hours to both men,
Campbell’s nervous fingers finally found the keyhole. The. ©
key dropped into place and the bolt snapped back. Condon”
crowded past him. Light from the deputy’s torch swept the «+
room. Everything seemed to be in order. There was a huge» -
bowl of red carnations on the table beside the bed, and an ~ «
opened overnight bag on the suitcase rack. Wispy feminine Se
underthings dangled on the back of a chair. z

Condon stepped across the room. His light focused on the 2
single slight figure beneath the blankets.

# ree 4

“Snap on the lights, Frank.” ~ Mee?

The room was bathed in brilliance. Both men stared, hor- «= 3:
rified, at the figure on the bed. Campbell was the first to speak. a

“Good heavens, it’s Mrs. Gireth !” ae

HE GIRL was lying on her back. There was a small blue.’

hole in her right temple. Her unseeing eyes stared at the — °%
ceiling. Blood had coursed down over her long blond hair, toy» -}
make a crimson pool in the hollow beneath her head. Her soft. . be
carmine lips were parted in a smile. * I 2

Condon drew back the bed covering. There was a second ~”
wound below her right shoulder. E OR


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THE DAISIES

by Jean Kerr

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72 Sd

The Pinup Murders

[Continued from page 15]

and the only clue Kealy had to go on was
the fact that the man who called for Shir-
ley Ann Bridgeford had “big ears.”

Mrs. Jolliffe was stunned by her daugh-
ter’s disappearance. “Shirley Ann never
stayed away from home,” she wept, “but
if she had just gone somewhere I’m sure
she’d have called me by now. She had no
luggage and she didn’t have any money.”

Nevertheless, as the months went by,
Mrs. Jolliffe refused to believe that /yher
daughter was dead.

“We thought she might have had am-
nesia,” said the motherly looking woman.
“T held to my faith that she would come
home. After her divorce she lived with us
for four years and she was always a home-
body. She was not the kind of a girl to
run away and leave her children. So I
just can’t understand it.”

Up until October, 1958, Mrs. Jolliffe
was convinced her missing daughter was
an amnesia victim. She saw a picture of a
traffic accident in the paper and one of
the witnesses in the background looked
like her daughter.

The distraught woman called the Bur-
bank police and asked them to check.
They promised they would and said they
would call her on October 31.

But it wasn’t necessary.

Mrs. Jolliffe. learned of her daughter’s
fate on October 30!

Finally there was the investigation of
the disappearance of Ruth Mercado.

Police from the Wilshire division who
searched her apartment found everything
in order. There was no sign of violence,
and except for the starving birds and dog
nothing appeared unusual.

Officers did find some arty photos of
Miss Mercado in the apartment and an
address book. They questioned scores of
men whose names were listed in the book.

From them it was learned that Miss
Mercado had been a stripper and that she
had posed for nude, art-type photos. De-
tectives spent long hours questioning the
men, but when it was completed they had
to admit the disappearance of Miss
Mercado was as much a mystery as when
they started.

They could only assume that Miss Mer-
cado had gone off with a customer and
for some unknown reason failed to.return.

How was anyone to know that Ruth
Mercado had joined Judy Dull and Shirley
Ann Bridgeford in death on the barren
Southern California desert? ‘

During the summer of 1958, a mousey
looking, jug-eared man punched the door-
bell at 5353 Sunset Boulevard where Jo-
anne Arena, a pretty 20-year-old French
model lived. He had called on her in reply
to a newspaper ad and liked what he saw.

She posed for him several times in her
own studio, the usual cheese cake and
pinup stuff, and then he dropped out of
sight. It was about the middle of October,
1958 before the little man came back.

“He wanted me to pose for him again,”
Joanne said. “He wanted me to go with

- him to his apartment. I said I couldn’t go

that night and he said he’d be back in a
few days.”

On Monday, October 27, Miss Arena’s
doorbell rang again and there stood the
shy little man with the big ears. His eyes
glittered as he looked at her and asked,
almost plaintively, “Can you pose for me
tonight? At my apartment?”

Joanne gave him a flashing smile and
replied, “All right. We'll go in my car and
I'll have to have a chaperone along.”

That wasn’t what Big Ears had in mind
but Joanne refused to have it any other
way.-Then the man asked, “Know any
other girls who'd like to pose for me?
Someone as pretty as you?”

Joanne thought for a minute and re-
called that a good friend—Lorraine
Vigil—had been wanting to get into the
modeling business.

As Joanne explained later, “I thought
this might be a chance for her to get a
start. I called her and Lorraine accepted
the job. But later I got to thinking about
it. I got to thinking how sort of queer that
man acted. So I called Lorraine again and
warned her to be careful.”

Lorraine Vigil, 27, is a statuesque, raven
haired beauty who had come to Los
Angeles from San Jose the year before.
She had been employed as a stenographer
but had taken modeling lessons in San
Francisco in 1956 and was trying to get
into that field.

She had gone to bed early that Monday
night in her apartment at West Sixth
Street but wasn’t asleep when her friend
Joanne called her and asked her if she’d
like a modeling job.

“She said the man’s name was Frank
Johnson and that she had worked for him
in the past,” said Miss Vigil.

Lorraine conceded she was leery about
taking the job, but since she had asked
Joanne to get work for her she felt under
obligation to take a customer she had
lined up. And then, too, the fee was $20
an hour.

It was close to 10 p.m. when “Frank
Johnson” called Lorraine and said he
would be over and honk his horn for her.

Said the dark-eyed beauty, “I think I
became a little suspicious then because
he didn’t want to come up to the apart-
ment.'And when we drove off and he did
not turn toward Hollywood, I said to him,
“This isn’t the way to Joanne’s studio.”

“And then he replied, ‘We’re not going
to her studio. We’re going to mine.’”

“J began to question him about where
his studio was, but all he said was that it
wouldn't take long to get there. By this
time we were on the Santa Ana Freeway
and driving very fast.

“Finally he wouldn’t even answer my
questions or even look at me. Then he
turned off on a road parallel to the free-
way, drove a short distance and killed
the motor. I later learned this was Tustin
Avenue.in Santa Ana.

« ”

When he said, ‘I got a flat tire, I
guessed I knew what was coming next.
But I didn’t expect what happened. He
pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed
it at me and said, ‘Okay, Lorrie. I want
you to do as I say.’

“I pleaded with him not to hurt me.
This seemed to irritate him and he said
he’d hurt me if I didn’t be quiet. He kept
waving the gun threateningly. He pulled
a rope from his pocket. It had been
knotted into a noose.

“He grabbed my left hand and told me
to put my hands behind my back. He
struggled with me, trying to force my
hands behind my back. I knew I mustn't
let him tie me. I said: *Please don’t tie
me. T’ll do what you want if you don’t tie

“He said, ‘All right, but don’t give me
any trouble.’

“te waved the gun again and said, ‘All
I have to do now is kill you.’ He made
it.clear that he meant to.

“He put his arm around me. I was bang-
ing on the window and screaming and
yelling. He put his hand over my mouth
and said, ‘Let’s make it look like we're
just here necking.’ I could see cars coming
but none of them stopped.

“Then he began
to me he could ha
attempt to stall fc
anything you say
tie my hands behi
he didn’t succeed
me.

“He said, ‘I’m a:
I've lost patience
soon kill you and

“T looked at the
it wasn’t loaded. :
barrel and I woul
gled and at no tin
full possession of

“He said, ‘All :
home.’ But we w
gun was forced dc
my thigh.

“Then it went ¢
you.’ I couldn't fe
know whether o:
didn’t know until
grazed me.

“T reached aro.
door and we bot
ground. While w:
ground IJ still had
I got hold of th
the trigger but I

“I grabbed his
real hard. We »
fighting over the
motorcycle. It we

California Hig!
Mulligan was or
Mesa from the C}
heim. Here is his

“T left headqu
as usual, and sta
cycle. I followed
to Tustin Avenu
Tustin-and turn

“About 200 y
parked on the r
dome light was
driver’s side wa

“I saw what
struggling on th

“As quickly a
and went back,
flashed my light
was a man and a
ing.

“When I turn¢
both jumped u;

“The girl rar
trying to kill n

She had a
gave it to me.
away from the
dangling from }

“The man stoc
he started tow:
He seemed to b
the girl than to
shining like sil
fixed on the gir

“I ordered h
hands out of hi
then, and said

“IT went back
dioed for hel;
the man said h
girl.”

A few minut
the CHP and t
office arrived
man and Miss
sheriff's office

A complete
filed that night

The big-ea)
picion of atte
wallet and the
he was identif
30, of 1101 Sou
wood.

The next


in mind
’ other
iow any
for me?

and re-
Lorraine
into the

thought
to get a
accepted
ig about
ueer that
gain and

ie, raven
to Los
before.
grapher
in San
ig to get

: Monday
sst Sixth
er friend

if she’d

is Frank
i for him

ry about
ad asked
lt under
she had
was $20

“Frank
said he
, for her.

think I
because
1€ apart-
d he did
ito him,
tudio.”
ot going,

ut where
as that it
By this
Freeway

swer my
Then he
the free-
nd killed
as Tustin

at_ tire,’ I
ing next.
vened, He
id pointed
e. I want

hurt me.
d he said
t. He kept
He pulled
had been

d told me
back. He
force my
I mustn't
don’t tie
1 don’t tie

t give me

{ said, ‘All
He made

was bang-
“ming and
my mouth
like we're
ars coming

“Then he began choking me. He proved
to me he could have strangled me. In an
attempt to stall for time, I said, ‘ll do
anything you say.’ He again attempted to
tie my hands behind my back, and when
he didn’t succeed, he jabbed ‘the gun at
me.

“He said, ‘I'm an awful nervous person.
I’ve lost patience with you and I’d just as
soon kill you and go to the pen.’

“I looked at the gun and thought maybe
it wasn’t loaded. Suddenly I grabbed the
barrel and I wouldn’t let loose. We strug-
gled and at no time after that did he have
full possession of the gun.

“He said, ‘All right, I’ll take you back
home.’ But we were’still struggling. The
gun was forced down and was pointing at
my thigh.

“Then it went off. He said, ‘Oh, I’ve shot
you.’ I couldn’t feel anything and I didn’t
know whether or not I had been shot. I
didn’t know until later that the bullet only
grazed me.

“I reached around and opened the car
door and we both tumbled out onto the
ground, While we were struggling on the
ground I still had a good hold on the gun.
I got hold of the trigger part. I pulled
the trigger but I couldn’t make it work.

“I grabbed his hand and I bit his finger
real hard. We were still struggling and
fighting over the gun when I heard the
motorcycle. It was a highway patrolman.”

California Highway Patrol Officer Tom
Mulligan was on his way home to Costa
Mesa from the CHP headquarters in Ana-
heim. Here is his story.

“I left headquarters about 10:15 p.m.,
as usual, and started home on my motor-
cycle. I followed the Santa Ana Freeway
to Tustin Avenue between Santa Ana and
Tustin and turned off.

“About 200 yards along, I saw a car
parked on the right side of the road. The
dome light was on and the door on the
driver’s side was open.

“I saw what looked like two figures
struggling on the ground beside the car.

“As quickly as I could, I turned about
and went back, stopped my machine, and
flashed my light on them. Then I saw it
was a man and a girl, struggling and fight-
ing.

“When I turned my light on them, they
both jumped up.

“The girl ran to me screaming:
trying to kill me! He’s crazy!’

‘He’s

ae
She had a gun in her hand and she
gave it to me. She said she had taken it
away from the man. There was a rope
dangling from her right wrist.

“The man stood there a minute and then
he started toward us. He didn’t try to run,
He seemed to be paying more attention to
the girl than to me. His eyes were staring,
shining like silver dollars. He had them
fixed on the girl with a sort of wild stare.

“I ordered him to stop and keep his
hands out of his pockets. He looked at me,
then, and said: ‘Okay.’

“I went back to my motorcycle and ra-
dioed for help. While we were waiting
pind: man said he had given the gun to the
gir

A few minutes later patrol units from
the CHP and the Orange County sheriff's
office arrived on the scene and took the
man and Miss Vigil to the Orange County
sheriff’s office in Santa Ana.

A complete report: of the incident was
filed that night.

The big-eared man was booked on sus-
picion of attempted rape and from his
wallet and the car registration in his auto
he was identified as Harvey M. Glatman,
30, wef 1101 South Norton Avenue in Holly-
woo!

The next day Sgt. Danny Rios, head

é Nat tional Bank, Dept. CD-

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of the Orange County sheriff’s homicide
squad, went to work on Glatman. The
big-eared man said he had hired Miss
Vigil and had planned to take some arty
photos of her, but for some reason or
other she became panicky and tried to
jump out of his car.

“How about the rope that .was looped
around her hand,” said Rios. “What was
that for? To keep her from getting away
from you?”

Glatman clammed up and refused to
talk about the gun and five-foot length of
rope the officers took from him. The detec-
tives had found nearly $1,000 in cash on
Glatman and under the floor mat of his
car, and he told them it was from his earn-
ings as a TV repairman.

There was something terrifying about
the little man that gave even the veteran
officers the creeps.

A.routine “make” revealed that Glat-
man had served less than a year in the
Colorado State Prison for i Heel When

Sax NOB, Ache saceaaaed

he was released he went to Albany, N. Y.,
where he again got into trouble in Au-
gust 1946. Glatman was picked up as the
notorious “Phantom Bandit” who had
robbed three women as they walked home
from lonely bus stops. late at night.

He got 5 to 10 years in Sing Sing but was
released on parole in 1951. He was dis-
charged from parole in New York in 1956
and presumably came to California at that
time.

There is a curious parallel between his
capture in New York and his arrest in
California. It was while he was stalking
his fourth victim in Albany that he was
apprehended. And in California it was
his insatiable lust for a fourth victim that
led to his capture.

Rios called for a report on all rapes and
rape attempts involving photographic
models and also a report on unsolved
strangulation murders in which a rope
was used.

An all points bulletin to that effect was

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THE DAISIES

by Jean Kerr

The number one best-selling
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The Pinup Murders

[Continued from page 15]

and the only clue Kealy had to go on was
the fact that the man who called for Shir-
ley Ann Bridgeford had “big ears.”

Mrs. Jolliffe was stunned by her daugh-
ter’s disappearance. “Shirley Ann never
stayed away from home,” she wept, “but
if she had just gone somewhere I’m sure
she’d have called me by now. She had no
luggage and she didn’t have any money.”

Nevertheless, as the months went by,
Mrs. Jolliffe refused to believe that her
daughter was dead.

“We thought she might have had am-
nesia,” said the motherly looking woman.
“T held to my faith that she would come
home. After her divorce she lived with us
for four years and she was always a home-
body. She was not the kind of a girl to
run away and leave her children. So I
just can’t understand it.”

Up until October, 1958, Mrs. Jolliffe
was convinced her missing daughter was
an amnesia victim. She saw a picture of a
traffic accident in the paper and one of
the witnesses in the background looked
like her daughter.

The distraught woman called the Bur-
bank police and asked them to check.
They promised they would and said they
would call her on October 31.

But it wasn’t necessary.

Mrs. Jolliffe. learned of her daughter’s
fate on October 30!

Finally there was the investigation of
the disappearance of Ruth Mercado.

Police from the Wilshire division who
searched her apartment found everything
in order. There was no sign of violence,
and except for the starving birds and dog
nothing appeared unusual.

Officers did find some arty photos of
Miss Mercado in the apartment and an
address book. They questioned scores of
men whose names were listed in the book.

From them it was learned that Miss
Mercado had been a stripper and that she
had posed for nude, art-type photos. De-
tectives spent long hours questioning the
men, but when it was completed they had
to admit the disappearance of Miss
Mercado was as saueh a mystery as when
they started.

They could only assume that Miss Mer-
cado had gone off with a customer and
for some unknown reason failed to-return.

How was anyone to know that Ruth
Mercado had joined Judy Dull and Shirley
Ann Bridgeford in death on the barren
Southern California desert? 5

During the summer of 1958, a mousey
looking, jug-eared man punched the door-
bell at 5353 Sunset Boulevard where Jo-
anne Arena, a pretty 20-year-old French
model lived. He had called on her in reply
to a newspaper ad and liked what he saw.

She posed for him several times in her
own studio, the usual cheese cake and
pinup stuff, and then he dropped out of
sight. It was about the middle of October,
1958 before the little man came back.

“He wanted me to pose for him again,”
Joanne said, “He wanted me to go with

’ him to his apartment. I said I couldn’t go

that night and he said he’d be back in a
few days.”

On Monday, October 27, Miss Arena’s
doorbell rang again and there stood the
shy little man with the big ears. His eyes

That wasn’t what Big Ears had in mind
but Joanne refused to have it any other
way.-Then the man asked, “Know any
other girls who'd like to pose for me?
Someone as pretty as you?”

Joanne thought for a minute and re-
called that a good friend—Lorraine
Vigil—had been wanting to get into the
modeling business.

As Joanne explained later, “I thought
this might be a chance for her to get a
start. I called her and Lorraine accepted
the job. But later I got to thinking about
it. I got to thinking how sort of queer that
man acted. So I called Lorraine again and
warned her to be careful.”

Lorraine Vigil, 27, is a statuesque, raven
haired beauty who had come to Los
Angeles from San Jose the year before.
She had been employed as a stenographer
but had taken modeling lessons in San
Francisco in 1956 and was trying to get
into that field.

She had gone to bed early that Monday
night in her apartment at West Sixth
Street but wasn’t asleep when her friend
Joanne called her and asked her if she’d
like a modeling job.

“She said the man’s name was Frank
Johnson and that she had worked for him
in the past,” said Miss Vigil.

Lorraine conceded she was leery about
taking the job, but since she had asked
Joanne to get work for her she felt under
obligation to take a customer she had
lined up. And then, too, the fee was $20
an hour.

It was close to 10 p.m. when “Frank
Johnson” called Lorraine and said he
would be over and honk his horn for her.

Said the dark-eyed beauty, “I think I
became a little suspicious then because
he didn’t want to come up to the apart-
ment.'And when we drove off and he did
not turn toward Hollywood, I said to him,
“This isn’t the way to Joanne’s studio.”

“And then he replied, ‘We’re not going
to her studio. We’re going to mine.’”’

“T began to question him about where
his studio was, but all he said was that it
wouldn’t take long to get there. By this
time we were on the Santa Ana Freeway
and driving very fast.

“Finally he wouldn’t even answer my
questions or even look at me. Then he
turned off on a road parallel to the free-
way, drove a short distance and killed
the motor. I later learned this was Tustin
Avenue in Santa Ana.

« %

When he said, ‘I got a flat tire,’ I
guessed I knew what was coming next.
But I didn’t expect what happened. He
pulled a gun from his pocket and pointed
it at me and said, ‘Okay, Lorrie. I want
you to do as I say.’

“I pleaded with him not to hurt me.
This seemed to irritate him and he said
he’d hurt me if I didn’t be quiet. He kept
waving the gun threateningly. He pulled
a rope from his pocket. It had been
knotted into a noose.

“He grabbed my left hand and told me
to put my hands behind my back. He
struggled with me, trying to force my
hands behind my back. I knew I mustn’t
let him tie me. I said: ‘Please don’t tie
me. I’ll do what you want if you don’t tie
me.’

“He said, ‘All right, but.don’t give me
any trouble.’

“He waved the gun again and said, ‘All
I have to do now is kill you.’ He made

it.clear that he meant to.
“ nit hie arm arniund ma T wrac hang.


This is the house in which the two accused bank robbers were nurse at Piedmont Memorial Hospital, was startled
! rooming. Police uncovered the loot and weapons in the attic. to see a man climb through a fourth floor window

from the fire escape. Seeing that he was bleeding from
the right thigh, hand and head her first thought was
to treat his wounds. He told her of being chased by
a man, but broke off his disconnected story and ran
when she led him to an emergency room and turned
on the lights.

It was now near 11 p.m. The teen-age foursome had
just left the theater and crossed Greene Street, head-
ing for the car John Moore’s father had let him use
for the evening, when a man emerged from some
bushes near the car and approached them. At the
boys’ urging, Sarah Murphy and Becky Rountree
locked themselves in the car. The man, obviously
wounded, appealed to the boys to take him to a hos-

pital. E lizabet!
John was suspicious, but the other youth, Pete a he
Banner, persuaded him to help the man. Once inside that he: hi
the car, where Macejka sat in the rear seat with Pete ie 4 sd h ~
and Becky, the pretense ended and terror began. e ew =
Flashing his knife, Macejka told the frightened teen- a
agers, “I’m the bank robber. You can read all about aa cl
it in the papers.” Then placing the blade against E a
Moore’s neck, he warned, “I mean business.” h eat -
At Macejka’s directions, Moore drove the car — ha
through Greensboro and in rural Guilford County oe Bick,
for an hour or more, never daring to stop. Ou ti

The escapee talked as they drove, interrupting his
monologue to give directions to Moore.

“He told us he’d just escaped from the jail and that
he’d sliced a guy there,” Banner recalled, later. “He
said, ‘I'll slice you up too. It doesn’t make any dif- rn
ference to me.’” His slas

During the terror ride, Macejka told the quartet
the details of the shopping center bank robbery. With
Macejka alternately holding the blade to Moore’s neck
and Banner’s side, the girls and Moore drew him out
in conversation in the hope of distracting him until
help came from somewhere.

During this time Macejka told them he had started
his crime career during the depression. “When my
family had no way to get money, I began holding up

grocery stores in Jersey,” he said. He added that he
had spent 22 years in jail.

But there were still times in the ride when it was
touch and go whether Macejka might not slash out
with his knife. Sighting a roadblock near Greensboro,
Macejka snarled, “Let’s get out of here” and jabbed
at Moore with the blade.

At Asheboro, not far*from Greensboro, they stopped
at a red light and Banner saw a policeman on duty
there, but there was no way to call for help.

Past that hurdle, Macejka relaxed somewhat. Near
Salisbury, some 50 miles from Greensboro, he ordered
Moore to stop at a service station, where Macejka
bought a dollar’s worth of gas, and treated the terrified

J
mile and drove off in the opposite direction. In about €
it

young people to soft drinks.

On the other side of Salisbury, he put the four
youngsters, still terror-stricken, out on the highway. : 2
He told them to walk back on the road for a quarter <
five minutes, the teen-agers heard the car roaring
back toward them and slid down a ravine at the side
of the road until he was past. Then they climbed Detective
back to the road and, though it was then 1 a.m., soon floor mat
hailed a ride to police headquarters in Salisbury from Ogden Mi
where they called their homes. TV actor

Within minutes after the youngsters arrived, Salis-
bury police had found the Moore car, abandoned near
the Southern Railway freight station. Not long after

Left to right, Mrs. Maurine Foster, Mrs. Rachel Lee and Wil- that, crewmen on a Diesel-hauled freight train headed
liam Thompson, were locked in this vault by the holdup pair. for Washington heard (Continued on page 96]
24 2


BOOK-LENGTH SPECIAL!

One of the most bizarre double-slaying cases in California

history began with the discovery of the riddled bodies of a

couple in the desert. It looked like a sure bet for the

“Unsolved File,” until remarkable sleuthing convinced detectives

HE ROAD construction crew,

reporting for work on the morn-

ing after Labor Day, could hear

the foreman cussing a_ blue

streak as they hopped off the
truck which had brought them to the
work site at the southern edge of the
Mojave Desert northwest of Victor-
ville, in California’s San Bernardino
County. The site was at the foot of
the Shadow Mountains, six miles
north of the small town of Adelanto,
near George Air Force Base. The
road project involved the re-routing
of Route U.S. 395, which was being
moved about 400 feet west of the old
roadway.

“What the hell is he yelling about?”
one of the workers asked, jerking a
thumb in the direction of the fore-
man, who stood stifflegged, gesturing
toward a couple of prone figures who
lay partly on the ridge of black road-
mix material that stretched along the
west side of the roadbed still under
construction.

“Beats the hell out of me,” another
workman, replied, “but I wish he’d
shut up. I got me one beaut of a
hangover.”

As they advanced toward the fore-
man, he turned and addressed the
work gang as a whole. “Look at
that!” he shouted disgustedly, point-
ing toward the two figures on the as-
phalt composition. “A couple sprawled
out here right in the road. Musta
been here all night. Dead drunk
probably. If they give me any trou-
ble, I’m gonna have ’em arrested.”

With his work gang as an audience,
he started toward the sleeping cou-
ple. “Hey, you!” he yelled belliger-
ently, “Get the hell outa here—and
right now. That’s no place to sleep—”

A few yards away from the pros-

30

THE WEDDING GIFT

WAS MURDER

by DAVID FELDON
Special Investigator for OFFICIAL DETECTIVE STORIES

trate figures, he halted abruptly and
broke off his tirade in mid-sentence.
He peered forward intently, a look of
surprise overspreading his face, then
cried, “Good God they’re dead!”

A young man and a young woman
lay sprawled on their backs, their
arms outflung, their heads slightly
turned toward each other and darkly
crusted with coagulated blood. The

man’s gray slacks and white sport
shirt also were stained with blood.

As the work gang rushed forward
at the foreman’s astonished an-
nouncement, he quickly regained his
composure and ordered them back
from the bodies.

“Don’t touch ’em and don’t walk
around here,” he said. “Better get
back on the gravel. There may be

tracks or something the cops will
want to see. You men stick around
here and don’t let anyone come near
them while I go call the law.”

The time was shortly after 7:30 on
the morning of Tuesday, September
8th. The foreman was gone about 25
minutes, and his arrival back at the
scene was a dead heat with the ar-
rival of the first officer to respond to

Instead of a wedding, Richard (r.) and bride-to-be, Pat,’had a double funeral in the desert

OFFICIAL DETECTIVE, November, 1967

Appeals had delayed condemned man’s execution, but unless his lawyers could get one more, he was doomed to die in gas chamber

the police alert on what would, be-
fore the investigation was concluded,
be acknowledged as one of the most
bizarre double murders in California
history.

Highway Patrolman L. A. MeNeill
was the first officer to reach the
scene, but close behind him was Dep-
uty William Patterson of the sheriff’s
Victorville substation. Moments later,
a stream of other officers began to
arrive as word was flashed across
the mountains to San Bernardino, the
county seat 40 miles away. A party
of officers left the sheriff’s headquar-
ters for the scene at once.

To those already there, it was im-
mediately apparent that the deaths
were murder. Both the man and the
woman had been shot in the head,
and blood on the ground beneath
them left little doubt that they had
been slain where they lay. A hasty
search of the area failed to turn up
any sign of a weapon, or the car
which had brought the victims to the
site. A scattering of footprints could
be detected in the blacktop mix, but
they went nowhere as they became
lost in the hard ground of the un-
finished roadbed. The lawmen could
find no sign of a struggle.

“It looks like somebody walked
over here from a car and gunned
them down in cold blood,” Deputy
Patterson commented after studying
the scene. “Like a gang-style execu-
tion.”

For the moment, it was as good a
summation as anything that might be

offered. Questioning the foreman and
his work gang, it was established that
the bodies had not been there when
they quit for the long holiday week
end on that day in 1959. Everyone was
asked to take a good look at the
bodies, but no one recognized the
victims.

Even if they had known the mur-
dered couple, however; it is doubtful
if anyone could have recognized
them. Decomposition was already
well advanced, and the hot desert
sun had bloated and blackened the
features of the young couple.

From their general appearance,
both appeared to be in their twen-
ties. The woman, clad in a sleeveless
gray cotton dress and nylon hosiery,
was shoeless. She was about 5 feet 3
inches tall in her stocking feet,
weighed around 112 pounds, and
though slim and fragile looking, she
had an excellent figure for a small
woman. Her hair was a gleaming
dark brown and worn in a ponytail.

The man was a husky, well-built
six-footer. His hair was _ reddish-
brown and curly. He had been shot at
least once in the head and another
shot had penetrated his lower ab-
domen.

The girl had been shot in the fore-
head, and the size of the wound left
no doubt the killer had used a large-
caliber weapon.

Lying on the blacktop between
them was an inexpensive chromium-
plated cigarette lighter and a par-
tially-smoked cigarette. A pair of

horn-rimmed glasses lay beside the
man’s head, and the left lens was
cracked. Officers found a scattering
of coins near the bodies, but neither
the woman’s shoes nor her purse
were anywhere in sight.

While awaiting the arrival of hom-
icide investigators, the uniformed
men conducted a thorough search of
the area, in the course of which they
came upon a number of spent car-
tridges. Some were .45 caliber, others
.32. They found more than a dozen of
the brass casings a short distance
from the bodies.

Moments later the officers made
another discovery that was chilling
in its implications. They found a row
of empty soft drink bottles neatly
lined up in the sand just off the road-
bed. A couple of the bottles were
shattered and the coarse gravel
around them was pitted with small
furrows.

“Target practice!” the deputy who
made the discovery exclaimed after
studying the curious scene for a few
moments. “The killers practiced on
these empty bottles before they
killed that pair!”

As the. search continued, it turned
up more fired shells, a loaded clip for
a .45 automatic pistol, more cigarette
butts, and two six-packs of empty
soft drink bottles in their cartons.

The search was now interrupted by
the arrival of a cortege of cars bear-
ing officers and investigators from
headquarters in San _ Bernardino.
Spearheading Sheriff. Frank Bland’s

desert task force were Inspector Hal
Oxnevad and Lieutenant Barton A
Keene, both veteran homicide
probers. Deputy John C. Maclvor
was an ID man, and Forensic Chemist
Anthony Longhetti had been sent
from the crime laboratory.

Inspector Oxnevad at once ordered
the scene cordoned off to keep back
the crowd of newspapermen and curi-
ous spectators who had converged on
the area from the highway nearby.
What followed was a text book ex-
ample of the smooth, orderly routine
of experts who know their job and
go about it without having to be told
what to do.

Deputy Maclvor unlimbered his
camera equipment and made a com-
prehensive series of photographs of
the bodies—close-ups, long shots
showing their relation to nearby ref-
erence points, color, black and white.
Then, before anyone else approached
the bodies, he produced a tape meas-
ure and graph pad. Working with
swift, practiced efficiency, he soon
produced a scale diagram of a wide
area, accurately scaled to conform to
the measurements he had made with
his tape.

Then, after examining the finger-
tips of the two victims and noting
that they were already shriveled and
blackened, he applied wet cloths to
the fingers to help preserve the fin-
gerprints.

When this was done, he stood up
and said, “Okay, Doc, they’re all
yours.”

31


Pad

Sheriff's Deputy Longhetti examined the victim’s bloodied shoe

in the hope that it could help identify the decomposed corpse

Deputy Coroner A. J. McCann
stepped forward and began his exam-
ination of the corpses. Detectives
standing beside him recorded his
comments on a pad as he worked.
McCann confirmed that the dead
man, whose age he estimated in the
late twenties or early thirties, was
shot once in the top of the head—
from close range—and once in the
groin. There were signs that he had
also been bludgeoned—possibly pis-
tol-whipped—in the face.

The pony-tailed brunette, whose
age he estimated in the late twenties,
had been shot squarely in the middle
of her forehead.

McCann also estimated that the
two victims had been dead anywhere
from 24 to 48 hours, but conceded it
might have been longer. It was diffi-
cult to tell, and even laboratory tests

32

might not be accurate, due to the
more than 100-degree daytime tem-
peratures in the Mojave Desert. The
high temperature plummeted at night,
but the road foreman pointed out that
the sticky pile of oil-aggregate road
mix on which the bodies lay might
have built up a temperature as high
as 160 degrees under the broiling
desert sun; moreover, the substance
tended to retain its heat. That factor,
Coroner McCann pointed out, would
certainly accelerate decomposition.
The immediate problem at this
point, of course, was to identify the
shooting victims, and detectives
quickly realized this would not be
easy. The slain man’s pockets were
searched, to little avail. He had no
wallet on him. In one pocket they
found 47 cents. In another they
found a letter so blood-soaked that

Lab expert Longhetti also tried to trace dead man’s ring

it was almost completely illegible.
Chemist Longhetti was able to de-
cipher only one word, which was,
ironically, “love.”

On his right hand, the dead man
wore a class ring with the school
monogram “SM,” and the year 1949.
His inner right forearm bore the tat-
too of an eagle in flight. His sports
clothes were of good quality, with an
expensive look about them.

There was even less to help iden-
tify the petite brunette. A continued
search of the surrounding area had
failed to turn up either her purse or
her shoes. She wore no _ jewelry
whatsoever. There were neither lab-
els nor laundry or cleaners’ marks in
the stylish blue-gray dress she wore.
She was wearing blue nylon panties,
lace-edged in white. Her bra and
half-slip were white.

Curiously, she had a tattoo on her
left thigh halfway between knee and
hip, but it was barely legible and it
was difficult to tell whether it read
“SKIHI” or “SKEHE.”

The coroner could find no evidence
that she had suffered any sort of
molestation.

One more bit of evidence was found
when the corpses were turned over
for further examination. This was a
crumpled, blood- spattered slip of
paper, which looked like a page torn
from a small, loose-leaf memo book.
Scribbled on it in pencil was an. ad-

dress on East 120th Street in Haw-
thorne, a southern suburb of Los
Angeles.

Lieutenant Keene radioed the ad-
dress to headquarters with a request
that the Hawthorne police be asked
to check it out without divulging any
information about why police were
interested.

Sheriff Bland, accompanied by
Chief Deputy Coroner Edward P.
Doyle, now arrived to take personal
command of the investigation. In-
spector Oxnevad briefed the sheriff
on what they had found.

Summing up afterwards, he said,
“Whoever did this knew his business.
There was no struggle, no fuss, just a
clean-cut execution. Judging from
the number of shells and the two dif-
ferent calibers, it looks as though
there were two killers involved.

“As for the target practice with the
pop bottles, it’s possible they were
trying out their guns, or simply ter-
rorizing the victims before killing
them. It’s also possible the couple was
lured out here to shoot at the bottles
and then the guns were turned on
them.”

As far as the eye could see in any
direction, there was no dwelling, res-
idence, or building of any kind. Sher-
iff Bland ordered the search of the
surrounding area continued, and as-
signed investigative teams to canvass
service stations, cafes and other es-

—

tablishments along the highway in an
effort to get a line on the murdered
couple. He realized it was a forlorn
hope, but it was the only course open,
at the moment, and as a veteran law-
man, he knew it had to be done. The
sheriff also ordered work on the new
road halted while the investigation
was in progress.

The bodies were removed, tempo-
rarily, to the mortuary at nearby
George Air Force Base. Chemist
Longhetti and Deputy Coroner Mc-
Cann went there with them to avail
themselves of the base facility.

The first lead came from the near-
est town, Adelanto, where detectives
found an elderly grocer who, after
hearing a description of the slaying
victims, said he was almost sure
they’d been in his store with a couple
of other men around quarter past
eight Monday morning, which was
Labor Day, September 7th. He said
they had bought a quantity of assort-
ed bottled soda, lt the woman paid
for it. Questioned closely, he insisted
he remembered the attractive young
brunette with the pony-tail hairdo.

“She kept winking at me, motion-
ing to me,” the grocer said. “I didn’t
know what to make of it. I didn’t
think any more of it till you told me
about these killings. Now I think she
must have been trying to get over
some message to me.”

Asked to tell what he could recall
about the girl’s companions, he said
the tall, neatly dressed man seemed
nervous, too. He had the impression
he and the girl were together, and
not very friendly with the other two
men.

The latter he described as “crumbs”
—roughly dressed, unkempt, tough-
looking guys “who didn’t open their

senna ae

Sheriff Inspector Oxnevad traced the
ill-fated lovers’ route to their death

es

Lieutenant Barton Keene and Sheriff Frank Bland (r.) studied rap sheets

mouths.” One, he said, was about 40,
maybe 5 feet 8, with bushy black
hair. Both wore dirty overalls and
dark, short-sleeved work shirts, and
both were deeply tanned, “like they
worked outdoors.”

The grocer said the girl insisted on
paying for the drinks. She took the
money out of a large brown leather
purse. He said they drove away to
the north, up U.S. 395, in a light blue
and white Rambler station wagon,
about a 1955 model. It had a luggage
rack on top.

He couldn’t remember who was
driving as they left.

Taken to the mortuary, the grocer
viewed the bodies and said he was
“almost sure” it was the same couple.
He couldn’t recognize them from the
features, of course, but the hair,
clothing, .nd general build of the pair
was about as he remembered them,
he said.

Sheriff Bland, for reasons of his
own, took the information with a
grain of salt. He issued a local alert
for the rough-looking men—possibly
hitchhikers who had been holding the
couple against their will—but his in-
stinct made it difficult to accept the
grocer’s story at face value. He felt
the old man had probably seen some-
one, but he doubted it was the
victims.

Now a report came in from Haw-
thorne on the address on the bloody
memo sheet found under the man’s
body. The place proved to be a
modest furnished apartment near
Hollywood Park race track. Police
had found no one at home, but
neighbors told them that for the past
two or three weeks, two young cou-
ples had been living there, one re-
cently arrived from Texas, it was be-
lieved. Their names were unknown.

The landlord could not be located,

rs

to solve execution of sweethearts

but Hawthorne police were trying to
find him.

When the search of the murder
area was finally concluded, a couple
of .45 caliber slugs had been sifted
out of the furrowed sand; moulages
and photos of tire marks had been
made; a few fragmentary fingerprints
had been lifted from the soda bottles
They would be useful only for com-
parison purposes if and when a sus-
pect was apprehended.

Fingerprints rolled from the vic-
tims’ hands were disappointing not
good enough to work out the complete
formula for locating them in files, but
serviceable for comparison with any
set that might be submitted. Along
with other pertinent evidence, they
were airmailed to the FBI in Wash-
ington.

A concerted effort was now made
to identify the male murder victim
from his class ring, which was found

33

ent nn

a

ei } 4
spe “ s

then retired: Unfortunately, the architect

- and his wife were travelling abroad and

»* could not be contacted readily.

The deputies then contacted Los
Angeles area police for assistance in

tracing acquaintances who might help in .

reaching the elder Nowlens. This quick-
ly became of secondary importance to
the investigation when the memories of a
couple of Los Angeles detectives were
jogged by mention of the name Richard
Lee Nowlen. They not only knew him,
but within minutes they had pulled a file
on him containing mugshots and prints.
Richard Nowlen was adopted by the
California family when he was five years
old, but though given every advantage

' and opportunities afforded to few

youths, he had chosen to walk outside
the law. An electrical engineer, now 28,

he was currently wanted for escaping
from a Chino Prison honor camp. He was
tall, handsome, and curly-haired in every
detail he fit the description of the man

’ found slain beside the young ‘woman in

the Mojave Desert.

Nowlen’s police file showed a long
record of arrests in Los Angeles,
Pasadena, Glendale and elsewhere and
included charges of robbery, assault, kid-

naping, drunk driving, forgery, back ie

checks and parole violation.

- Nowlen escaped from the Chino camp
on August 9th, nearly a month before he
was found killed. The other prisoners had
escaped with him; his two companions
were recaptured within a few days and
returned to prison. Nowlen remained at
large until his body was found in the
desert.

Deputies now picked up information

_ from a police informant about the possi-

ble identity of the girl who had been
murdered with Nowlen. ‘The tip was
based on the tattoo on the woman’s thigh,

and the information ardor to pe Grade-
Go act

Within a ouple® of hpilig: Sheriff
Bland’s men established thatthe slain
ponytailed brunette. was one Patricia
Hurely Skene, alias Pat Zeltman, alias
Pat Cale, alias Margaret Scott. She was
27, and the wayward daughter of. an
eminently Pyapectable Los Angeles coun-
ty family. -

Pat’s police file showed she was con-
hen, of forgery in 1955 and given five
; years probation. In the fall of 1958 she

; Mt © drew a year, for narcotics possession, at
“the Los Angeles County Women’s Facil-
_. ity at Terminal Island. She was paroled

on July 22nd last, less than, two months

- before being gunned to death in the de-

‘sert.

Inspector Oxnevad and Lieutenant.

70 Master Detective

Keene lost no time in driving to Chino,
where, with cooperation of Warden E.J.
Obserhauser, they investigated the possi-
bility that a personal feud had been the
underlying motive behind the desert mur-
ders. After this, they enlisted the aid of
parole officers to begin interviewing all
prisoners discharged or paroled from
Chino since August 9th. That was the day
Nowlen escaped. ©

With the establishment of the prison
background to the murders, police heat
on the underworld produced results.
Officers now learned that Dick and Pat
had spent.a week, possibly longer, with
another ex-con, Sam Stark and his girl
friend, Sandra Kay Grounds, 22, who
passed as common-law wife. Stark lived
on Doty Avenue, in Lennox, near Holly-
wood park, but the house was now vacant
and neighbors said the two couples had
not been around the place since Friday
night.

Stark, 30, had been convicted of
forgery, done time, and was out on
parole, He was also awaiting trial on
another forgery charge. From the best

It’s-About-Time Dept:

As this is being written, a Feder-
al judge in Brooklyn, New York
began selecting jurors whose
identities were unknown to the de-
fense, prosecutors and the public
to try five advocates of Puerto
Rican independence on charges
‘of criminal contempt of court. A
smart move, and one that was
advocated by this magazine in its
February, 1983 issue.

The practice is unusual, but not
unprecedented. The procedure
has been used where prosecutors
and judges were concerned about
the possibility of jury tampering or
the possibility that the jury's deli-

_ berations would be i aap by
fear of reprisals.

The judge and porns for
both sides in the above case refer-
red to the jurors by numbers, just
as Superior Court Judge Kenneth
Browne of the Queens County Cri-
minal Court suggested to a panel
in a recent ,two-count homicide
case,

We applaud the move, and
hope that the practice will extend
to all jury trials in which there is the
slightest possibility of jury tamper-

ing and/or reprisals.

information available, it looked as if
Dick Nowlen and Pat Skene, his girl
friend, had left with the Starks on a’holi-
day weekend outing. They were’thought

to be traveling in Sandra’s gray, 1949

Ford two-door sedan.
Los Angeles police and Sheriff Bland

issued a pickup order for Stark and San- .

dra, but their Lennox house was staked
out, just in case they returned. —

Now there occurred one of those de-
velopments which occasionally crop up
to upset even the best-run homicide in-
vestigations. A man from Colton be-
latedly came forward and told police he
had seen a man and woman lying on the
ground at the murder scene early. on the
morning of Sunday, September 6th. He
said he stopped, got out of his car and
walked toward them, but stopped some
distance away when ‘he assumed they
were just sleeping and it was none of his
business. He drove away and forgot all
about it, till all the publicity on the case
finally goaded him to report what he had
seen.

The witness successfully stood his
ground against a battery of questions, he
knew what he was talking about. He said
it was 8 a.m. when he saw the ‘‘sleeping
couple.’’ He also recalled seeing the row
of pop bottles stuck in the sand. What’s
more, they took him to the vicinity in a
car and he directed them to the precise
spot where the bodies had lain. ©

This upset the entire timetable of the
case, as reconstructed thus far. ‘It also
cast serious doubt on the information
supplied by the grocer. \

Hawthorne police finally corralled re-
sidents of the house at the East 120th St.

address which had been scribbled on the

notepaper found under Nowlen’s body.

The premises were occupied by Mr. and
Mrs. Alan Brown, who shared their
apartment with another couple, Mr. and
Mrs. Frank Cooper. Cooper, 34, had a
record of burglary arrests.

The Browns, deputies were con-
vinced, were in the clear. Cooper denied
knowing Nowlen 6r Pat Skene, but when
ordered to empty his pockets, he brought
out a notebook containing paper identic-
al to that found under Nowlen’s body.

His explanation? *‘Maybe I wrote that
address. I given my address to lots of
people. I wrote it down for a fellow I met

in a bar about a week ago. Invited him to
drop up for a drink. I don’t remember his

name. I don’t have anything to hide. I
don’t know how my address came to be
on that murdered guy.’’

The Browns vouched for the fact that
Cooper and his wife had been with them
during an extended holiday weekend,

rsh dln A OA nh chs ha ia dacinba tn, calls
y | neue ‘ t H

6
¥
h

TRUE LOVE'S OINTMENT

oner’s .

| of the
noted
' edand
d this
rprint

: lready
| setin.
| 2e Cir-
' vone’s
| —were
‘id the
nties.

it the
' nches
; (may
| is, at

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| vMeawso

ber. More than a dozen of these were
found less than 35 feet from the bodies.
The most interesting find, however,

“was a row of soda pop bottles standing
lined up in a neat row in the sand along- -

side the road. One had been shattered.
Behind them, little furrows in the sand
told a story.

‘Target practice,’ Inspector Oxne-
vad said tersely as he studied the ground.
‘The killer—or killers practiced on
these empty bottles before they shot the
couple.”’

He ordered the search of the area re-
newed with increased vigor. Before it
was done, deputies found still more car-
tridge casings, a couple of six-packs

containing soda bottles similar to those '

found in the sand, more cigarette butts,
and a loaded clip for a .45 automatic
pistol. ‘

The coroner was just rising to his feet
when Inspector Oxnevad approached the
bodies again. ‘‘What’s the word, Doc-
tor?’’ he asked. ;

The. deputy coroner shook his head.
“I can only guess about the time of
death,’’ he said, ‘‘till we do the aut-
opsies.””

This’ was understandable, due to the

torrid, 100 plus degree daytime tempera-
tures in the region, which can plummet
to near-freezing at night. And in this
instance, it was determined, the tarry
road-surfacing material on which the
bodies lay may have reached a tempera-
ture as high as 160 degrees!

The coroner estimated that the couple
had been'dead from 24 to 48 hours, but
that it was quite possible it might have
been a longer time. He confirmed Oxne-
vad’s opinion that the couple was slain
where they were found. The man’s face
showed signs of a bludegeoning or a
pistol-whipping. He had been shot once
in the groin and once in the top of the
head. The girl had been shot dead center
in her forehead. ms

The identity of the slain pair was a
mystery. The man’s pockets contained
no wallet or identification, only 47 cents
in change, and a letter made indecipher-
able by bloodstains, except for one
word—‘‘Love.’’

There was a class ring on his left hand,
bearing the school monogram ‘‘SM’’
and the year ‘‘1949.’’ There was an
eagle in flight tattooed on his right
forearm.

Searchers had been unable to turn up

Detectives probing a
double murder in California

ran into romance

among some no-goods,
a wedding with a reluctant

best man, another

wedding with a last-minute . |
substitute for the groom, -
and lethal target practice —
with a roaring .45 instead

of wedding bells...

the woman’s purse or shoes. She wore

~ no jewelry. Under her outer clothing she

was wearing a white bra and half-slip,
and blue nylon panties edged with lace.
The undergarments were not disarrayed,

and the coroner could find no evidence ee

of a sex assault.
The one distinctive feature found on
the girl’s body-was a barely legible tattoo.

on her left thigh a little more than half- ~

way up between her knee and hips.. The
tattoo appeared to be a word or a name,
which was either ‘‘Skihi’’ for “*Skehe.”’
One final clue was found when the
man’s body was turned-over. Under it
was a much crumbled sheet of paper torn
from a small notebook. It bore a pencil-
scribbled address on East 120th Street in
Hawthorne, which is a suburb south of
Los Angeles. ae,
Lieutenant Keene ordered the address
radioed to headquarters for relay to the
Hawthorne police, requesting that it be ,
checked out immediately.
Sheriff Bland and Chief Deputy
Coroner Edward P. Doyle arrived at this .
juncture and Inspector Oxnevad filled

them in on the case, up to the moment. +

““Whoever did this knew his busi-
; (Continued on page 68)

Sher. Bland (r.) questioned Chris Garner (I.) and wife |
Sandra about certain pop bottles used for target practice

Master Detective . 43

ie

a

—_

nt ea eal

é

On Friday, January 14th, Roger Buehl
took the stand for just six minutes to

deny playing any part in the murders at.

the Gross estate. Asked by Montgomery
County District Attorney,Joseph A.
Smyth Jr. if he had robbed the Center
City storé on July 13th and shot the own-
er in the ankle, the defendant admitted
that he had.

‘‘When I was robbing the ‘store, |
didn’t mean to shoot him,’’ Buehl said.
“Tl was shooting at the floor in front of
him.’

Buehl maintained that hé ‘recalled lit-
tle about the stickup because he was ner-
vous at the time.

“T never committed no robbery be-
fore,’’ he said.

During the defense presentation,
which took less than an hour from start to

finish, Buehl’s attorney attempted to dis-.

prove the prosecution’s contention that
his client committed the Worcester
Township burglary at 2 p.m., drove
south to the Gross place in Villanova and
killed the victims there at 3:15 and then
showed up in Center City to borrow a car
at 3:30 and return it by 5:00. No one, the

attorney said, could have driven three
times between Center City and Villano-
va during rush hour in so short a time.

In his closing argument to the jury on
Monday, January 17th, District Attor-
ney Smyth said, ‘‘I tell you, I’ve put my
heart and soul into this case. I ask you
now to do your duty’ and return ‘‘a
verdict of murder in the first degree.’’

Buehl’s attorney admitted that his
client was a criminal, but insisted that he
was not a, murderer.

‘*He is bad,’’. the attorney said in his
58-minute summation, ‘‘but there are de-
grees of bad.”’

At 2:00 on Tuesday afternoon, follow-
ing some six hours of deliberation, the
jury found Roger Buehl guilty of three
counts each of first and third-degree mur-
der and a raft of lesser charges. It took the
panel less than one hour more to decide
that he should pay for his crimes in Penn-
sylvania’s electric chair.

The following day, Buehl’s attorney
said that he would seek a new trial for his
client and was considering legal grounds
for the retrial petition, which would be
filed within ten days. ooo

Murder Was Fly i in
Love’s Ointment |

(Continued Rout page 43 )

ness,’’ the inspector began. ‘‘No strug-
gle, no fuss, Just a clean-cut execution.

‘Judging from the number of shells and

the two different calibers, it looks like
there were two killers.

‘As for the target practice on the pop
bottles, it’s possible they were trying out
their guns, or they could have been just
terrorizing the victims before they killed
"em...

‘It’s also possible the couple was

lured out here to shoot at the bottles, and

then the guns were turned on them.’

After the bodies were removed, Sher-.

iff Bland ordered the. search of the de-
sert expanded widely. He also assigned
other officers to canvass all business
establishments along the highway for
some 25 miles in each direction—cafes,

' filling stations, and the like.

‘This latter line of inquiry produced
what then looked like the first tangible
clue. In the little hamlet of Adelanto, six

_ miles from the murder scene, a deputy

found a grocer who had just heard a radio
ste oie describing the slain couple. He

‘‘almost certain’’ they were the same
beple who were in his store around quar-
ter past eight the morning before—that

68 Master Detective

e

would be Labor Day morning, Septem-
ber 7, 1959.

The storekeeper said they bought some
six-packs of assorted soda pop. The
young woman paid for it and the grocer
remembered her quite vividly.

‘*She kept winking at me and making
funny motions,’’ he told the deputy. ‘‘I
didn’t know what to make of: it, but I
didn’t think any more about it till I heard
about thse killings. Now, I realize she
must have been trying to get over some

_Mmessage to me.’

The ‘‘tall, neat-looking feller’’, with
the girl also seemed nervous, the old

‘grocer said. The other two men were.

rough, unkempt types who never opened
their mouths. One was about 40, maybe
five-eight or so, with bushy black hair.
The other was younger, maybe five-ten,
and he had dark brown hair.

The grocer recalled that the group
headed north when they left, up Route
395, and they were driving a light -blue
and white Nash Rambler station wagon,
about a 1955 model, with a luggage rack
on the roof.

Taken to the mortuary to view the
bodies, the grocer said he was ‘‘almost
certain’’ it was the same couple. The
hair, general build and clothing were ab-
out the same. It was understandable that
he could not be positive about the fea-
tures. .

If the grocer was correct, Sheriff Bland

reasoned, it appeared the victims had
been kidnapped and were being
threatened by their two roughly-dressed
captors. The motive, of course, was any-
body’s guess.

At the moment, the killers could have
no way of knowing of the lead on them
obtained from the grocer. To avoid
“*spooking’’ them into sudden flight,
therefore, Sheriff Bland ordered this in-
formation withheld from publication, at
least for 24 hours. In the meantime, he
ordered a radio alert in the Mojave Desert

» region for a swift check of all motels,
, cafes, and gas stations. It was a gamble
that such a move might turn up the blue
and white Rambler station wagon the kil-
lers were believed to be driving.

In the interim, the report from the

Hawthorne police on the address scrib-
bled on the blood-stained notepaper was

inconclusive, chiefly because no one
was at home. Two strange couples were
reported to be living there, but little was
known of them.

Fingerprinting of the corpses pro-
duced prints suitable for comparison
purposes, but not for identification trac-
ing. The initials ‘‘R.N.’’ had been found
inside the male victim’s class ring. His
loafers were found to bear the imprint of
a Pasadena shoe dealer and a distinctive,
V-shaped heel plate.

Sheriff Bland assigned deputies to
check out the shoe store, and others were
sent to work on the class ring angle. The
latter began by conferring with high
school authorities in Santa Monica and
San Marino. In his eagerness to effect a
swift solution of the desert murders,
Sheriff Bland put virtually his entire de-
tective force to work on the’ case.

When 24 hours had elapsed and the
_desert area check had failed to turn up a
trace of the Rambler station wageon or
its occupants, Bland issued an allpoints
bulletin containing all pertinent details
of the murders and what the investiga-
tion had thus far shown. Included in the
bulletin was a request for special com-
parison of the victim’s descriptions with
all missing persons report filed in the
preceding five days.

Now, too, the sheriff called in the
press and broadcast media representa-
tives and briefed them fully on the case.

By nightfall of the day after the bodies .

were found, the murders were headlined

throughout southern California and fea- |

tured on all TV and radio news prog-
rams.

The most immediate result of this, as
expected, was a deluge of tips from both
cranks and well-intentioned citizens:-who
thought they had pertinent information.

'

e

a

s

it appeared the victims had
dnapped and were being
1 by their two roughly-dressed
‘he motive, of course, was any-
less.

noment, the killers could have

| * knowing of the lead on them

boy the grocer. To avoid

" them into sudden flight,
‘Sheriff Bland ordered this in-
withheld from publication, at
4 hours. In the meantime, he

| adio alert in the Mojave Desert

a swift check of all motels,
gas stations. It was a gamble

| ‘move might turn up the blue
: Xambler station wagon the kil-
_elieved to be driving.

| -Aterim, the report from the

' police on the address scrib-
blood-stained notepaper was

| ve, chiefly because no one

1e. Two strange couples were
be living there, but ey 9 was
hem.
| ‘inting of the corpses pro-
| its suitable for comparison
| ut not for identification trac-
_ tials “*R.N.”’ had been found
--'= victim’s class ring. His
nd to bear the imprint of
dealer and a distinctive,
: eel plate.
| 3land assigned deputies to
\¢ shoe store, and others were
‘on the class ring angle. The
n by conferring with high
| orities in Santa Monica and
. In his eagerness to effect a
ion of the desert murders,
id put virtually his entire de-
2 to work on the’ case.
_ hours had elapsed and the
' check had failed to turn up a
Rambler station wageon or
_’s, Bland issued an allpoints
‘ ‘taining all pertinent details
ers and what the investiga-
s far shown. Included in the
|» a request for special com-. -
| € victim’s descriptions with
: persons report filed in the
ve days.
', the sheriff called in the
roadcast media representa-
_ efed them fully on the case.
| Of the day after the bodies
| the murders were headlined
_ outhern California and fea- -
| TV and radio news prog-

immediate result of this, as
| 1s a deluge of tips from both
ell-intentioned citizens who
had pertinent information.

1 PEL IE OI TC TT LT FE

Hopefully, one might prove to be of
value, but in any event, everything was
checked out, putting a still greater strain
on the manpower in the sheriff’s depart-
ment.

The Pasadena shoe store was sure the
slain man’s loafers had been purchased

there within the past month. But they had

no record of the buyer. The only records
kept on shoe purchasers, they said, were
on those sold to growing children.

A flurry of excitement swept the sher-
iff’s office for a while when it began to
look like an identification had been
obtained on the slain girl. Two women
living near Hawthorne, reading about
the murders, reported their fears that the
slain girl was their niece who had been
staying with them. She was 18, wore a
ponytail hairdo, was pregnant, and her
husband was unemployed. He had two
never-do-well brothers, and when the
two women returned Labor Day after-
noon, they said, they had found a note
from their niece saying that she and her
husband were driving to Las Vegas with
his brothers to look for work.

The reason for their fears was that the
descriptions of the two roughly-dressed
companions of the slain couple fitted
their niece’s* brothers-in-law like the
proverbial glove.

On Wednesday afternoon Sheriff
Bland added their names to his allpoints
bulletin, but soon after. daylight, he
ordered them removed. Despite a tenta-
tive identification of the slain girl by the
worried aunts, it was soon proved that
she was not their missing niece.

For one thing, the murder victim was
not pregnant. For another, she was
several years older than the missing
niece. And the clincher came when an
oral identification chart supplied by the
missing girl’s dentist proved conclusive-
ly she could not be the murdered woman.

The first identification in the baffling
‘case finally came as the result of the class
ring. The deputies traced it to a Minneso-
ta firm. Which had marketed a ring iden-
tical to it some ten years before. They
further found that the manufacturer’s re-
cords showed only two such rings were
sold in Califoria‘in.1949. These went to
San Marino Prep School near Pasadena.
That was as much as the ring manufac-
turer could tell, but it was enough for the
hardworking deputies.

They promptly descended on the
offices of the prep school, where records
showed that only one youth in the gra-
duating class of ’49 had the initials
“*R.N.’’ His name was Richard Lee
Nowlen, adopted son of a wealthy, well-
known Pasadena architect and artist,

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as much.

“So what happened? Dorena already
had met Jay Barker and decided he
was more her type. When the jeweler
phoned her he was in town, she met
him with a boxful of his letters, in-
tending to end the affair. He may have
suspected as much since he arrived
with a portable phonograph and their
favorite records. But this time the music
that had held them together only served
as a dirge for Dorena.”

The two listening officers were stun-
ned. “Then this jeweler did it?” Rad-
ruch said.

Gleason stamped out his cigarette.
“That’s the way it looks so far. Inci-
dentally, his name is not Lester B.
Girard, as we supposed. But Leslie B.
Gireth. Blame that on his writing. I’ve
already phoned Adams in Fresno to
check the hotel again for a guest of
that name. I’m sure Gireth called in
the original tip from a pay station,
though why, I don’t know.”

“Who owned the convertible?”

Gleason shrugged. “Neither Barker
nor Gireth,” he said. “It just happened
to be a machine which was parked

near Cabin 10 while its owner was.

visiting in some other section of the
camp. We can write it off.”

HE SHERIFF’S phone kept jang-
ling until early evening. First the
Glendale police called back with the

information that no woman could have _

been involved in the death of Dorena
Hammer. Then the welcome voice. of
Deputy Adams came through from
Fresno. :

“Gireth was registered,” the officer
said. “I found him in his room. He’s
apparently been ,having a hard time
and I hate to think of what he might

have done if he hadn’t left that gun in
the bungalow.”

“What does he say?”

“Up to now, nothing, but he’s on
edge and it won’t take much—”

“We'll be waiting for you, Harry,”
Gleason cut in.

The trip from Fersno, the sheriff
figured, would take Adams and his
prisoner about four hours. There would
be time for naps and a quick breakfast.

His timing was perfect. After a
quick nap, and ham and eggs in a
nearby restaurant, Gleason, looking out
the window of Oakland’s new coprt-
house, saw a car pull into the yard be-
low and two men, handcuffed together,
walk toward the elevators.

Remembering what Adams had said
about Gireth being orf edge, the sheriff
went to the phonograph and adjusted
it for “repeat.” Then he snapped on
the changer although he had put a
single: record on the machine.

Above the soft strains of “Claire de
Lune” could’ be heard the sound of
the elevator door clanging open in the
hall. Then the tread of men’s feet on
the hard tiling. A door softly opened.
Deputy Adams stood there. Manacled
to him was a short, dapper man with
a woebegone expression. His hair was
tousled, his face haggard and unshaved.
Despite this, the sheriff. recognized him
as the man in the death chamber photo-
graph.

But Leslie Gireth never even looked
their way. To him, they seemed not
to be in the room. His gaze went to
the whirring phonograph and ‘a sad,
wistful look came over his face. This
lasted but a brief moment, then a grim-

ace of, pain replaced it. Gireth began
sobbing. -

“Dorena, darling!” he wept, “What

have I done to you?”

Gleason walked softly across the thick
rug in his office and stopped the music.
The clinking sound of opening hand-
cuffs ominously cut the ‘silence. After
that, the unrestrained anguish of Gireth’s
weeping continued. ~

But eventually even this came to an
end. Then the Glendale jeweler looked
up and said, “I think you gentlemen
expect me to confess. I will not dis-

‘appoint you. I killed Dorena because

I wanted to spare her a scandal which
was soon to ruin both of us. As for

goyself, nothing matters now that she

1S gone.” .

That was his attitude to the end. In-
dicted on a charge of first-degree mur-
der on July 25, a week after his sweet-
heart’s body was found at the altar of
their. last love, Gireth refused counsel.

But friends of the man prevailed
upon a well known attorney to repre-
sent him. However, on August 14, when
Gireth appeared for trial in Judge Lin-
coln §. Church’s court in Oakland, he
waved the lawyer aside and entered his
own plea.

“I am guilty, you honor,” he said.

Judge Church immediately sentenced
the killer to die in San Quentin Prison.

Whereas Leslie Gireth refused the
services of an attorney to defend him
on the murder charge, he hired two
high-priced lawyers to sue the com-
monwealth for the return of his love
letters. It can be said that he literally
died in the lethal gas chamber on Feb-

‘ruary 8, 1943, to the accompaniment of

“Claire de Lune,” since he played. this
constantly in his cell during his last
hours. ¢

Editor's Note: The name Jay Barker
is fictitious.

LOVERS’ KISSES
(Continued from page 15)

girl’s address book and leafed through
it. “No Eric,” he said.

“Could be a nickname.”

Sherlock looked again. “Our luck is
holding,” he said: “Eric is sometimes a
nickname for Frederick. Here’s a Fred-
erick R. Holt in Lytham.”

The inspector picked up the telephone
and called the police of Lytham, asking
them to check the whereabouts of Fred-
erick Holt. ay

The two detectives then left for the
Hotel Clifton.

It was now late afternoon, the day
before Christmas. At the hotel, the
proprietress hurried over to the detec-
tives with a telegram. “You say the
lady’s name was Kathleen Breaks,” she
said. “Well I just noticed this in. the
mailbox under ‘H.’” q

HE telegram was addressed: “Kath-
leen Breaks Holt.” It read:

SORRY DARLING DELAYED BY

60

FATHER’S ILLNESS ARRIVE TO-
MORROW NIGHT EIGHT O’CLOCK
LOVE ERIC :

It had been sent from Lytham at
eight-forty the previous evening. Its ar-
rival at the hotel had been stamped ten-.
thirty-five. :

“We didn’t know who it was for,” the
proprietress said. “But, in any case, the
young lady left the hotel around half-
past nine.” : phony
Inspector Sherlock glanced at his
watch, ‘“He’s arriving at eight o’clock
tonight. That’s within an hour. If he
shows, let me know at‘once.”

The proprietress led the way to room.

number six. Kathleen Breaks had
brought only a small suitcase contain-
ing a minimum amount of clothing.

. While searching the room, Shérlock
had a phone call trom Inspector How-

ard Marshall, who had already. arrived.

from Bradford. :

“Pye located’.Mrs. Breaks’ sister, a
Miss Daisy Fish,” he’ reported. “I’m
bringing her over. Meanwhile, I got
some facts.” ;

Marshall said that, according to the’
sister, Mrs. Breaks’ maiden name was

Kathleen Fish and she was 23 years
old. At the age of 19 she had married
John Breaks, a wealthy garage owner
of Bridlington, Yorkshire. She had left
him after four months and had gone to
London to work in a boakshop. Mean-
while, she had been trying to get 4
divorce.

‘The inspector arrived with Miss Fish
and Inspector Sherlock ‘questioned her
at once. |

Daisy Fish, a pretty girl of 20 with
the same shade of pale blonde hair as
her sister, stated she had last seen
Kathleen on. Tuesday morning.

“She gave up her job in London
two weeks ago and came to live with
me until she ‘gets married,” she said.

“How long had Kathy known Holt?”

“About six months. She met him at
this very hotel on a holiday last ‘sum-
mer. Their friendship grew, and in
October he proposed marriage and she
accepted. They expected to be married
next month, when her divorce became
final.” ‘ Wet Se

Holt, she said, was about 30, and
came of an old Lancashire family. He
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RED CARNATIONS

(Continued from page 13)

they had noted a convertible car in
front of Cabin 10.

“Did the ‘Girards’ arrive in a con-
vertible?” the sheriff asked the auto
court proprietor.

The man shook his head. “No. A
sedan. And I haven’t seen it leave. ,It
could be in the garage attached to the
cabin.”

When Gleason and Adams looked, °

the garage was empty. The sheriff asked.
the neighbors if they had seen Girard’s
machine pull out, but no one had.

. girl had been found dead on
Friday, July 23, 1942. According to
the medical examiner, she had been
killed sometime Thursday, or about
the time the convertible was seen at
the bungalow. It was around that time,
too, that the phonograph was blaring
out its doleful melody. So the converti-
ble, the music, and the murder seemed
to go together. .

There’ were three bullet holes in
Dorena Hammer’s body—in the left
temple, left breast, and under the left
armpit. But Gleason and Adams weren’t
able to find anyone who had heard the

shots. They suspected why, looking at -
the phonograph again and noting that ©

the volume was turned up.

Gleason, back in his office, set the
wheels of his investigative machinery
in motion, using Adams, Deputy J. H.

Morris, and Detective Hugo Radruch, |

the latter being attached to the office
of the Alameda County district attorney.

“Sergeant Rossi of the Oakland police
got that anonymous call this morning,”
the sheriff told Adams. “He was check-
ing with the operator to find out where
it came from. Get in touch with him
and see what he’s learned.”

He gave Morris a notation of the
girl’s address, as culled from the love,
notes. “Call the San Jose police,” he
ordered, ‘and have them visit this 11th
Street ‘place. I want to know every-
thing they can tell. us about Dorena
Hammer.”

As the deputies went into action
over the phones, the sheriff studied the
small-caliber pistol, the phonograph, and
the letters brought from the murder

- bungalow.

Collectively, they fitted the pattern
of idyllic, though frustrated, love that
Gleason had drawn of the case.

The ownership of the gun that had
been used to kill the beautiful young
girl remained to be proved. Whether
the phonograph and records were the
girl’s or her admirer’s could not be
determined at the moment.

If the man in the photograph was
Girard, this showed that the girl was
still sweet on him. And another person,
seeing the picture there in Girard’s ab-

sence, could have gone suddenly ber-.

serk.

But perhaps’ the photo was that of
some new admirer. In that case, it
could have been Girard who. resented
it.

58

The only mystery about the letters’
was who had brought them to the
bungalow. If it had been Dorena her-
self, then it could have been, as Adams
said, a “kiss-off.” Girard not. only was
getting his love notes back, he was
also on the receiving end of a “brush.”
The suitor might not have liked that.

But if some third party had stum-

bled ‘across the notes and learned that -

Dorena and Girard were at the bunga-
low, he or she could have caught up
with the girl when Girard was away.

Adams broke into the sheriff’s reve-
ries. “‘Rossi traced that call,” he said.
“It came from a hotel in Fresno. |

called the place, but they have no one

named Girard registered.”

Gleason. checked his’ watch against
the wall clock. “It’s 120 miles,” he.
said, “but, you’ve still got time to run

down there. and’ look around. We'll °

keep you informed on anything we
learn up at this end.”

Adams was heading his car south-
east out of Oakland when Morris and
Radruch came in to report.

“The San Jose police checked the
address on 11th Street,” Morris told the
sheriff. .“Dorena Hammer lived there
for a while last fall while she was at-
tending the San Jose State College. Her
landlady says she went up to Oakland
before Christmas. ;

“Do .you know where?”

“Maybe, if the information is cor-
rect. At the time Dorena said she was

‘registering at the Boeing School of

Aeronautics, at the Oakland airport;
for a meteorology course.”

“Good. Run out to the Boeing School
and see what they can tell you.”

As this pair was. about to leave,
Gleason stopped them. “You said this

. Hammer girl was living in San Jose

temporarily. Know where she hails
from?” f ‘

“Yes,” Morris replied. “At least, she
told her landlady something about com-
ing from Glendale.” °

The sheriff whistled, since Glendale
was a suburb of Los Angeles, 300. miles
to the south. “Maybe the Glendale
police can find her folks and discover
why she left home,” he said.

Gleason dispatched a wire advising
the authorities in Dorena Hammer’s
home town about the crime. He asked
for all the information they could dig
up for him. o Ae

Morris and Radruch quickly . con-
firmed the fact that Dorena Hammer,
19, was a‘student at the Boeing School,
but they also learned she hadn’t been
in attendance since Wednesday, July
15. She lived. with a-family in Oak-
land. Mi
She was a studious girl, from what
the officers discovered, and popular
with other members of her class. But
she never showed any. particular in-

‘ terest in. any of the male. students so
. far as the school authorities knew.

‘Her landlady. reported that she had
last seen Dorena late on the afternoon
of Wednesday, July 15. ;

““Some man drove her home,” the.

woman said. ‘“Dorena was only here
about ten minutes. Then she left with

a suitcase and a box.”

“Did you know the man?” Deputy
Morris asked.

The landlady shook her head. “I
didn’t even see him. He sat out in the
car—a big sedan. Dorena told me he
was her cousin.” *

“Did she ever mention a man named
Girard to you?”

“No. I never heard the name. She
had a beau named Jay Barker. He used
to come around here and take her out.
I’m sure he’s a student up at the Boe-
ing School.”

This seemed to be a contradiction
of what the school authorities said,
but the officers knew they might not
have been fully aware of the girl’s
social activities.

“How was Dorena acting when she

_was here last?” Morris asked.

“Very jolly,” the landlady replied.
“She told me she was relieved about
something; it was as if a great weight
had dropped from her mind.”

The officers asked to see the girl’s
room. As the landlady conducted them
up the stairs to the second floor, she
suddenly became apprehensive. “Has
anything happened to Dorena?” the

_ woman asked.
Morris was noncommittal. “We don’t’

‘know yet,” he replied.

But once in the girl’s room, he spot-
ted a photograph on the dresser. It
was a young girl ina smiling pose.
“Who is that?” he inquired.

“Dorena,” the landlady replied, “A
beautiful picture.”

Morris nodded. “Then something
has happened to your roomer,” he
said. “We found her murdered this
morning.”

The landlady stiffened:and went pale.
“Oh, the poor girl!” she cried. “Who
did it?” ;

“That is what we are trying to find
out,” the deputy ‘said. 4

There was nothing in the room that
provided a clue, but the woman added
a Vital fact to the information she had
already given.

“That Barker boy. was very jealous
of Dorena,” she said.

“Maybe that’s the answer,” Radruch
vr “We're planning to see him right
re tc ‘

ARKER was at his home, an ad-

dress supplied at the school, when
the officers called. He glared at them
blankly. :

“Dorena Hammer?” he repeated when '

they asked him about the girl. “I haven't
seen her for a week. We had a date
for this week-end, but she wrote me a
note and said she couldn’t keep it; she
had to go away.”

“She told you in that note where
she was going?”

“Sure. San Leandro.”

Morris took time to think this over.
“You own a car, son?” he asked.

Barker nodded. “A convertible.”

“Such a car was seen at a tourist
cabin in San Leandro Wednesday.”

The youth seemed puzzled. “I wasn’t
there,” he said testily. “I had classes
that day. My car was parked out at the

airport.”

“Don’t lose yot
said. “There are
When did you see

Barker needed
Wednesday, July §
“We went driving
bothering her. W
parked later up i
I wanted to take
said she wasn’t ir

Morris cut in.
what was up?”

“She asked me
She wanted to kn
for a girl to tell a
him any more.”

“Know whom s

The youth loo}
think so. It was

Glendale she’d b
with—accepting hi:
off with him wee
all about it. He pl:
spot.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, he wante
Glendale—a famil)
—so he sent her
it seems things qu
dale and he wante:
with Dorena not t
-but she refused t
was determined t

It appeared to
that Jay Barker
talking about an
enough about him
was trying to dive
this Glendale suit

“We've been to
ous,”” Morris sudd

Barker. colored.
Dorena—yes! | tri
from going to San

Radruch rubbed
failed,” he suggest
there for a showdo

The youth swe
“IT wasn’t there!”
told you that. S:
about, anyway?”

It was then tha
Barker's face too
of stunned -amaz
blurted. “Good he:

In a few seconc
ed to belligerency.
low did it to her—t
ing!” he snapped
lay my hands on—-

“Save it,” Mor
better come dow:
things you've bec
sheriff.”

Gleason heard
cital. He sat mull
moments, then ro
over to the phonc
pluggéd into a vy
of his thumb sen
ning. Soft, delicat:
some, of the roon

“Nice tune,” tk
after about 16 bar:

Barker sat phle;
the end, then loa
puzzled expressio:
supposed to be c

box.”
w the man?” Deputy

shook her head. “I
im. He sat out in the
- Dorena told me he

mention a man named

heard the name. She
.d Jay Barker. He used
here and take her out.
student up at the Boe-

to be a contradiction
shool authorities said,
knew they might not
y aware of the girl’s

iorena acting when she
Morris asked.

the landlady replied.
she was relieved about
as as if a great weight
om her mind.”

asked to see the girl’s
andlady conducted them
o the second floor, she
me apprehensive. “Has
‘ened to Dorena?” the

aoncommittal. “We don’t
replied.

the girl’s room, he spot-
-aph on the dresser. It
girl in a smiling pose.
he inquired.

che landlady replied. “A
ire.”

4ded. “Then something
| to your roomer,” he
yjund her murdered this

ly stiffened:and went pale.
.r girl!” she cried. “Who

hat we are trying to find
puty said. ;

nothing in the room that
ue, but the woman added
> the information she had

l.

ker boy. was very jealous
she said.

jat’s the answer,” Radruch
planning to see him right

was at his home, an ad-
ipplied at the school, when
called. He glared at them

jammer?” he repeated when
1im about the girl. “I haven't
r-a week. We had a date
sk-end, but she wrote me a
id she couldn’t keep it; she
away.”

d you in that note where
ing?”

an Leandro.”

ook time to think this over.
a car, son?” he asked.
iodded. “A convertible.” |

car was seen at a tourist

in Leandro Wednesday.”

ith seemed puzzled. “I wasn’t
said testily. “I had classes

My car was parked out at the

airport.”

“Don’t lose your temper,” Radruch
said. “There are lots of convertibles.
When did you'see the girl last.”

Barker needed time to think. “On
Wednesday, July 8,” he finally replied.
“We went driving, and something was
bothering. her. We had dinner and
parked later: up in the Berkeley hills.
I wanted to take her dancing, but she
said she wasn’t in the mood for it.”

Morris cut in. “Did she tell you
what was up?” San

“She asked me a funny question.
She wanted to know if it was wrong
for a girl to tell a man she didn’t love
him any more.” ‘ ‘

“Know whom she meant?”

The youth looked embarrassed. “I
think so. It was some fellow from

Glendale she’d been running around
with—accepting his. presents and: going
off with him week-ends. She told me
all about it. He placed her in a difficult
spot.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, he wanted to get her out of
Glendale—a family fuss, or something
—so he sent her to San Jose. Lately,

it seems things quieted down in Glen-

dale and he wanted her back. I pleaded
with Dorena not to go to San Lenadro,
but she refused to listen to me. She
was determined to go!”

It appeared to Morris and Radruch
that Jay Barker was doing: a, lot of
talking about another man and not
enough about himself. Could it be he
was trying to divert their attention to
this Glendale suitor!

“We've been told you're pretty jeal-
ous,” Morris suddenly said.

Barker. colored. “Where it concerns
Dorena—yes! I tried hard to stop her
from going to San Leandro.”

Radruch rubbed his chin. “When you
failed,” he suggested, “you went down
there for a showdown?”

The youth swung around to him.
“I wasn’t there!” he snapped. “I've

told you that. Say, what is this all:

about, anyway?”
It was then that they told him. Jay
Barker's face took on an expression

of stunned -amazement. “Dead?” he:

blurted. “Good heavens!”

In a few seconds, his attitude chang-
ed to belligerency. “Then that other fel-
low did it to her—the one she was ditch-
ing!” he snapped heatedly. “Ta like to
lay my. hands on——”

“Save it,” Morris ordered. “You'd
better come down and repeat all the
things you’ve been telling us to the
sheriff.” ~

Gleason heard the youth’s full re-
cital. He sat mulling it over for a few
moments, then rose lazily and walked

over to.the phonograph, which he had-

pluggéd into a wall socket. A’ press
of his thumb sent the turntable spin-
ning. Soft, delicate music began: easing
some of the room’s tenseness.. ~

“Nice tune,” the sheriff commented .

after about 16 bars or so.

Barker sat phlegmatically through to
the end,’ then looked around with a
puzzled expression. “You fellows are
supposed to be catching a murderer,”

- he said with feeling, “and all you do

- gation.”

“as the boys down there do a little more

is sit around here playing music. What’s
the gag?” - : “ .

“You don’t recognize that number?”

Barker shook his head. “Never heard
it before.” A

The sheriff shut off. the phonograph.
“You run along, son,” he said. “Wheth-.
er you know it or not, we're making
considerable progress with this investi-

In spite of the desire of Morris and
Radruch to investigate Jay Barker’s
alibi, Gleason held them off. “The kid
knows nothing about it,” he said. “I’ve

.

just had a call from Glendale. As soon
checking, I’m sure we're going to get
a story that'll make your hair curl.”

Morris sat up.. “You mean, a pos-
sible triangle element?” .
-Gleason shrugged. “A certain third
party would have had an excellent
motive,” he said. “Until the check is
complete, we don’t know for sure.
But let me tell you what the Glendale
boys have reported already.”
This, he revealed, had to do with
a beautiful and popular co-ed of Glen-
dale whose parerits were well-to-do.
- “She went. to the Glendale Junior
College in 1940 and led her class,” the
sheriff said. “But she was the inde-

pendent kind, wanted to make her
"own way. So in the summer of 1941,

she took a job clerking in one of the
town’s finest jewelry shops. She made
an. immediate hit with her boss, a fel-
low who reached the top after marrying
his own boss’. daughter. ~

“He had a lot of natural ability,
nevertheless. His business prospered
and he became a director of the Glen-
dale Chamber of Commerce. In addi-
tion, he was a prominent member of
the local Rotary Club.

“Well, the affair between the jeweler

and his pretty clerk began innocently
enough. You know, one of those things
like buying her cokes at the corner
drugstore during slack hours. But. it
wasn’t long before they were deeply in
love and spending their week-ends at
the mountain resorts around Los An-
geles.”
The sheriff paused to light a smoke.
“Of course, the whole town got wise
to it ‘sooner or later, along with his
wife, who threatened. divorce.

“So the philandering Romeo, facing
possible court’ action which would cost

“him half his fortune under the Cali-

fornia property division law, decided
it was time to ship his clerk—in other
words, Dorena—out of town. He pre-
vailed upon her to enroll in the San
Jose Junior College. cy
“Dorena_ tearfully obeyed, thinking
it was the. end. But the affair had
sucha firm grip on the jeweler that
he risked everything to see. the girl
week-ends. Then she decided she want-
ed to end the affair. She fled San Jose
and came to Oakland. . ;
“From ‘that point on we can only
conjecture. It seems reasonable to as-
sume, that the jeweler flew up here on
July ‘15. In fact, the Glendale police
interviewed a friend of. his who said

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GIRETH, Leslie,Be, white, asphyxiated San Quentin (Alameda) January 22,
S las int ALONG the eastern shore of San Francisco

Bay, and stretching into the foothills beyond, the great

city of Oakland, California, slept fitfully through the
early morning hours of July 17, 1942. Down along the water-
front, freight from the east rumbled across the piers to mer-
chant ships loading for Australia and Hawaii and South
America, To the north, in the shipyards run by the West
Coast’s miracle man Henry Kaiser, ship fitters, burners, and
welders worked a round-the-clock shift to forge the sea-going
beasts of burden for the embattled democracy.

In the police department’s central station, located on the
v ground floor of Oakland’s City Hall, Patrolman Harold H.
| Rossi was seated before the switchboard. With nimble fingers,
Rossi handled the ebb and flow of misery, tragedy and trouble
which came in over the telephone wires—a traffic which never
stopped.

At ten minutes past 4 a.m. on that Friday morning, the
- jeweled outside line indicator.turned red. The buzzer whined
|,» and Rossi threw a switch, opening the trunk.

: “This is Long Distance. We have a call for you from
Fresno, California.”
| #2. “Okay.”
The connection was made. “Oakland Police Department.
Rossi speaking.” ,

a “Police?” The man’s voice at the other end of the wire

gave the word an odd foreign sound.

“Police department,” Rossi repeated.

% “Good. ‘Have the police go to Casa Del Monterey Court in

et San Leandro. They will find the body of a girl in Cabin 10.

.. £. She is a very beautiful girl.” .
| “=... Rossi scribbled the name of the auto court on his scratch pad.

~...“Who’s calling ?”
«~~» “San Leandro. Casa Del Monterey. She’s very beautiful.”
“I got that, but who’s calling? Who are you?” -
m4 “Her name is Dorena. She is an angel.”
«=> “Who is this? Where are you now ?” ff
ae ~ |
My A DORENA HAMMER, lovely Glendale girl—did she go away to->-~

\ college in order to break up an affair that threatened her happiness?

es) are . ee
{3 :
he
sé : .
2 BA i
We ; Fahy, ; wr
ee ; ; . , Soy
Set: eo %
24 ee Loa | ieee ee
a ; wy L Rv
v4 be “owes i 7B

nena . r
INSIDE DETECTIVE, December, 1952,

Se es Se
te:

“Now I think I'll go to sleep.” The phone clicked as the hot
connection was broken. ‘
Rossi cut in another circuit and called Long Distance “Trace
that call. Notify us the minute you get identification.” :
The city of San Leandro, which nestles against Oakland on ©! /
the south, was outside Rossi’s jurisdiction. The mysterious
tip-off might be a phony. How did the man in Fresno know
there was a dead girl in San Leandro? Had Rossi been talk-
ing to the killer? Probably some drunk’s idea of a practical
joke, the patrolman decided. Still, the man hadn’t talked like
a drunk. Would somebody pay a long distance toll charge
just to put across a gag?
The patrolman debated this for a moment, then plugged in
his direct wire to the Alameda County sheriff's office, located
across town in the county’s new five-million-dollar courthouse.

“This is Rossi at police department. We got a tip there’s * - i

a dead girl in cabin 10 at the Casa Del Monterey Court in San Fa a

“ Leandro.” eee

hg * The night deputy in the sheriff’s criminal division repeated = =, m
is? ; the address. |
LESLIE GIRETH—was he the man who made the mysterious long- “It was an anonymous telephone call from Fresno,” Rossi ake =|
"_ ‘distance call to Oakland police, saying. “You will find the body of a ¢XPlained. “I've got the operator checking the origin now.’ mei, |

“ Sugirl in Cabin 10, She is very beautiful"? Was he the murderer? The sheriff's short-wave radio station flashed into action


checked out. But the investigators could
find no trace of any free-lance photo-
grapher calling himself Johnny Glynn,
or fitting his description. One thing
seemed certain: If Glynn was legiti- .
mate he surely would have come for-
ward by that time to try and clear him- disappearance compared with other un-
self. solved cases, in an effort to fit the case
White and Ostroff interviewed scores into a pattern if one existed.
of men and women, friends and as- Weeks passed into months with no
sociates of the missing model. Every clue as to Judy Dull’s fate. The investi-
slim possibility was followed up. Every gation ground to a halt as White and
photo and model agency was canvassed. Ostroff found themselves at a dead end.
Miss Fredricks and Miss Micheals The bulletins remained on file and every
were shown mug shots of every known’ so often were taken out and Judy’s de-

sex Offender in the books. But the
roommates could not find “Glynn.”
Modus operandi files were checked
looking for an offender who had used
a similar lure. The files were cross-

This photo of Shirley Bridgeford was taken just before she was murdered.

checked and the circumstances of Judy’s:

scription compared with that given in
a report of the finding of an unidentified
body. Investigators were taken off the
case and the voluminous file gathered
dust, {

On December 29th a ranch worker,
walking between Indio and “Thousand
Palms, about 130 miles from Los An-
geles, came upon the bleached and de-
cayed skeleton of a woman. Technicians
pronounced the skeleton to be that of a
blonde woman, between 30 and 35 years
old and estimated that it had been lying

there between six months and a year or:

more. Seven fingerprints were lifted
from the corpse and sent to Washington,
D. C. But the F.B.1. was not able to
find duplicates in its files. Because of
the age of the corpse and the time it
had been exposed, the possibility that it
was Judy Dull was eliminated. The
skeleton remained unidentified and was
buried at county expense as Jane Doe.

The new year came and Judy Dull
was forgotten by all but her friends and
“Johnny Glynn.” In March of 1958,
another young attractive Los Angeles
girl disappeared. Shirley Ann Bridge-
ford, 24-year-old divorcee and mother
of two small children, went out on a
blind date. and never returned. The
alarm was turned in by Shirley’s mother,
with whom the divorcee and her chil-
dren had lived.

The distraught mother reported the
disappearance to Detective Sergeants
R. Pat Kealy and Richard T. Ruble of
the San Fernando Valley homicide de-
tail. She disclosed that on Saturday
night, March 8th, her daughter had a
blind date, arranged through a lonely
hearts club. The date was with a man
who gave his name as George Williams.
Williams had called for Shirley Ann at
about 7:45 and had mentioned that they
were going to a Western dance on San
Fernando Road. When Shirley Ann
failed to come home for 24 hours, the
mother had phoned all her daughter’s
friends, several of whom had attended
the dance. None of the missing girl’s
friends reported seeing Shirley Ann at
the dance.

Shirley’s mother, uncle and 16-year-
old sister had all seen Mr. Williams
when he called. They described him as
about 25 to 35 years old, nearly six
feet tall, about 170 pounds, light brown
hair, blue eyes and a thick moustache.
He had large protruding ears and
wore light, plastic framed glasses.

“He wasn’t dressed too well for a
Saturday night,” Shirley’s mother re-
called. “He was wearing a blue suit
jacket, white shirt and charcoal trousers.
He seemed sort of ill at ease; maybe
embarrassed at meeting so many strange
people. He was in a hurry to get going
and spoke sort of gruffly. He asked
Shirley if she was ready and held the
front door open for her. Shirley waved
and said, ‘See you later.’ That was the
last we saw of her.”

The mother had waited up through
the night for her daughter's return
and when Shirley Ann did not return,
she phoned the police. Detectives Ruble
and Kealy were not too concerned at
first. They were inclined to believe that

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

gh

Shirley Ann and George Williams had
perhaps hit it off very well and had
run off together. But a routine investi-
gation at the lonely hearts club pointed
to grimmer circumstances.

The detectives obtained a description
of Williams which was somewhat differ-
ent from the one given by Shirley Ann’s
mother. A jittery secretary at the club
told Ruble and Kealy that George Wil-
liams was not more than 5 feet 7 inches
tall, 150 pounds, slender build, brown
eyes, prominent ears, no moustache and
no glasses. The address Williams had
supplied when he registered with the
date service was checked and found to
be a fictitious street and number.

Ruble and Kealy went through the
files at the club and learned that Wil-
liams had dated another Los Angeles
girl through the bureau on March 6th.
This girl’s description of Williams
tallied closely with that given by the
lonely hearts club secretary.

“Mr. Williams was a perfect gentle-
man,” the girl told the detectives. “We
spent the evening in my apartment chat-
ting. He told me he was a plumber in
Pasadena.”

“Did he have a car?” Detective Kealy
asked the attractive young brunette.

“1 didn’t see it,” the lucky blind date
replied, “but Mr. Williams told me he
a ’53 Chevy.”

The possibility that a real Williams
had traded his Saturday night date with
a pal occurred to Kealy and Ruble. The
investigators were still inclined to be-
lieve that Shirley Ann’s disappearance
was merely a case of elopement and the
daughter would soon wire from Tia-
juana or Las Vegas. Nevertheless, an
all-points bulletin carrying a description
of the missing divorcee, was broadcast.
Shirley Bridgeford was described as 24
years old, brunette, 5 feet 5, 119
pounds, brown hair worn in a short
bob, blue eyes and several teeth missing,
noticable when she smiled.

NOTHER day passed and still there
was no word from Shirley Ann.
Detectives Ruble and Kealy were more
inclined to take the disappearance ser-
iously and immediately began the ted-
ious leg work of checking every pos-
sible angle. All of the missing girl’s
friends were located and questioned.
None of them had seen the divorcee for
the past few days. Ruble and Kealy
went to the place where the Western
dance was held on Saturday night and
showed a picture of Shirley Bridgeford
to the manager and several others. No
one had seen her on Saturday night.
Many hours of questioning had con-
vinced the detectives that the missing
girl was a serious minded, responsible
individual who would never have gone
off without a word and left her two
young children. The phone book was
combed and every man named Williams
in the area was questioned. All the
plumbers in Pasadena were checked and
still there was no clue to Shirley Bridge-
ford’s whereabouts.
Finally, the homicide detectives, aided

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

Although there was no reason to sup-
pose that the disappearance of Shirley
Bridgeford and Judy Dull were in any
way related, this possibility was not
overlooked. Thus Ruble and Kealy cov-
ered substantially the same ground as
had the Los Angeles missing persons
bureau in its search for Judy Dull.
Files were cross checked, mug books
pored over, modus operandi compared.
Any and all suspects were hauled in for
questioning. After weeks of exhaustive
effort, Kealy and Ruble were forced to
admit that they were up against a blank
wall. Active investigation into the dis-

by other Valley officers, conducted a
systematic check of all the city’s#80-odd
lonely hearts clubs and date bureaus.
Scores of photographs of clients who
even vaguely fit the description of Wil-
liams were ¢ollected and shown to mem-
bers of the family. This, too, pro-
duced no results.

During that week Kealy and Ruble
exhausted every avenue of investigation
and were forced to admit that they were
convinced that the brunette divorcee had
met with foul play at the hands of a
sex-perverted fiend. They doubted that
Shirley would ever be seen again alive.

Police Sgt. P. R. Pierce holds rope and gun used by multiple murderer.


Pate

by Louis Gregg

Monstrous
depravity made
the arch killer
pose asa
photographer

so he could lure
pretty, camera-
struck girls into
his web of

rape and murder

Photography was one of his hobbies.

* IT HAS BEEN SAID that the
danger surrounding a girl's life in-
creases in proportion to the beauty
of her face and figure. This is perhaps
particularly true of the girls who trek
westward to Los Angeles — Holly-
wood—seeking careers in the motion
picture industry. Only a very small
percentage of them ever make out.
The rest must return home or turn to
something less glamorous like waiting
on tables or modeling—even model-
32

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE MAGAZINE, OCTOBER,’ 196).

PSYCHO’S TRAP FOR GIRL

ing in the nude. California law has
recognized the hazards of this latter
way of making a living and clamped
down on the “Off-beat” studios cater-
ing more to sex than photographic
art. But that wasn’t something that
happened over night. Between Au-
gust, 1957, and October of 1959, the
celluloid city was rocked by a ghastly,

series of sadistic sex murders.

It started on August 1st, 1957, when
beautiful, golden-haired Judy Dull, a
19-year-old pin-up model, disappeared
from her Hollywood apartment. Judy
had gone out on a modeling assignment
in mid-afternoon and had failed to keep
several appointments later that day and
evening. One of Judy’s roommates, 18-
year-old blonde model, Sally Fredricks,
had seen fit to go to the Los Angeles
sheriff's West Hollywood office and re-
port Judy Dull’s absence. Sergeant
David E. Ostroff interviewed Miss
Fredricks and obtained the facts. °

“Last Tuesday evening,” the room-
mate began, “Judy and our other room-
mate, Jerri Micheals, were out with
dates and I was sitting around at home
chatting with a friend. A man came to
the door and asked for Jerri. I told
him Jerri was out and he introduced
himself as Johnny Glynn, a free-lance
photographer. He told me that Jerri
had been recommended to him for a
special modeling job he had in mind.”

Then, according to Miss Fredricks,
Glynn had asked if he could come in
and look at Jerri Micheals’ portfolio.
Sally Fredricks had agreed and also
let him look at her own portfolio and
that of Judy Dull.

“Now there’s a girl I’d like to work
with,” Johnny Glynn had exclaimed
when he looked at the glamour poses
of Judy Dull. “She’s just the type I
have in mind. Where can I contact her?”

Sally gave Johnny Glynn their un-
listed phone number. When Judy re-
turned later that night she mentioned
the photographer’s visit and recalled the
fact that he claimed that a friend of
Jerri’s had recommended him.

Glynn, described by Sally Fredricks
as a slim, serious looking man with
horn-rimmed glasses and jug ears,
phoned on Thursday morning, August
Ist, and spoke with Judy Dull. He
told her that he had a rush assignment
and wanted her to pose for him at 2
o’clock that afternoon. Glynn had no
studio at the moment, he said, but
would bring his equipment over to the
girls’ apartment and do the job there.
Judy agreed and managed to fit the
appointment into her busy schedule.

“Johnny showed up at two as ar-!
ranged,” Miss Fredricks continued, “but

he had no equipment. He explained .

that he had been able to get the use of
a friend’s studio at the last moment and
they would do the job there.”

Glynn had explained that the job
would take a couple of hours and read-
ily agreed to pay Judy her usual fee
of $20 an hour. Small, blonde and
curvaceous, Judy was in great demand
and commanded large fees for her nude
and scantily clad poses. At Judy's re-
quest, Glynn jotted down a number on
a pad where she could be reached
while modeling. They left the apartment
at 2:15.

Judy Dull was due back at the apart-
ment later that afternoon, to keep an
important appointment with her
estranged husband. She had failed to
keep it and had failed to call. The
blonde model had an appointment to
meet a contractor friend of hers that
night to be introduced to an attorney.
Judy likewise failed to keep that ap-
pointment. Miss Fredricks felt that it
was very unlike her roommate to be so
Temiss and as the evening passed, she
grew increasingly concerned.

Sergeant Ostroff wasn’t sure just what
to think after hearing Miss Fredricks’
story. The absence of a pretty young girl
from her apartment for a couple of
hours ordinarily was no cause for alarm.
However, Ostroff was taking no chances.
A routine check of hospitals was made
and radio cars cruising the Sunset Strip
area were alerted to be on the lookout
for the petite blonde model. When
Judy Dull did not return to the apart-
ment the next morning sheriff’s detec-
tives were assigned to the case on a
full-time basis.

The number left by Johnny Glynn
had been called and turned out to be
a machine shop in Pico on the other
side of Los Angeles. Detectives checked
at the machine shop and were convinced
that it had nothing to do with the
blonde’s disappearance. Apparently,
Glynn had picked the number out of
the air. Sergeant Ostroff consulted with
Sergeant Richard C. White of the
downtown missing persons detail and
as a result an all-points missing persons
bulletin, listing Judy Ann Van Horn
Dull as a possible kidnap victim, was
circulated.

The bulletin described Judy as 19
years old, 5 feet 4 inches tall, 110
pounds, natural blond hair, blue eyes,
golden tan complexion and a_ small
mole under her left breast. She was
reported as last seen wearing a brown
sheath dress and black flat-heeled shoes.
She had never been fingerprinted.

The man calling himself Johnny

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

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HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

MODELS |

Glamorous Judy Ann Dull thought she was
posing for a trick picture when the pho-
tographer tied her arms and legs.

Glynn was described as about 29 years
old, 5 feet 9, 150 pounds, dark brown
hair, olive complexion and prominent
ears. He was last seen wearing horn-
rimmed glasses and a rumpled blue or
black business suit.

T the request of detectives, Jerri
Micheals phoned a number of pho-
tographers for whom she had worked
in an effort to locate the one who had
given “Glynn” her name. None could
temember giving Jerri’s name to any-
one fitting ““Glynn’s” description. Judy’s
estranged husband was able to establish
to the satisfaction of the police that
he was entirely innocent of any involve-
ment in his wife’s disappearance. He
was eliminated from suspicion.
Detectives Ostroff and White and
other men doggedly made the rounds of
all of Los Angeles’ model agencies, es-
pecially those which specialized in nude
pinups, looking for a clue to the mys-
terious “Johnny Glynn.” Their efforts
yielded nothing and further strengthened
the conviction that “Glynn” had given

_ a phony name. Apparently, he had got-

ten Jerri Micheals’ name from the mail-
box outside the apartment.

The week-end passed with no word
of Judy Ann Dull. The papers headlined
the disappearance of the beautiful
model and headquarters was deluged
with tips that had to be run down and

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He played a cat and mouse game with models and forced them to pose for him in the nude.

appearance of Shirley Bridgeford came
to a halt. .

In July of 1958, the curtain went up
in the next act of the brutal tragedy.
A landlord of a small apartment house
in the' Wilshire section of Los Angeles
notified the police that he had reason
to suspect that a young girl tenant of
his had disappeared and had possibly
met with foul play. Sergeants Paul A.
Light and Eugene Danforth were de-
tailed to investigate and they immediate-
ly interviewed the landlord.

The missing tenant was Ruth Rita

Mercado, a 24-year-old brunette, for-'

mer strip dancer of Latin extraction.
At the time she disappeared, Ruth. Mer-
cado was a model, posing principally
in the nude, under the name Angela
Rojas. The landlord told the detectives
that the girl had been missing since
Wednesday night, July 23rd. On that
night the landlord had passed Ruth’s
room and heard her talking to her
collie. That was the last he had seen or
heard her around the apartment.

During the next few days, the land-
lord had noticed that mail was collect-
ing in Miss Mercado’s mailbox. Re-
specting her privacy, the landlord waited
four days before letting himself into the
apartment where the brunette model
had lived for only three weeks.

“I found that her beloved collie and
her two parakeets were nearly dead
from lack of food,” the landlord said.
“Her bed looked as though it hadn’t
been slept in and all Miss Mercado’s
clothing was in the apartment, as was
her jewelry and her portfolio of pinup
pictures, which she prized.”

After a couple more days passed and
his tenant still did not return, the land-
lord felt it was high time that the police
were notified.

The investigators were convinced from
the start that the beautiful model had
met with foul play. From all that the

landlord had said, it was apparent that °

Miss Mercado was devoted to her pets,
treating them almost like ‘babies, and

Ruth Mercado was bound and gagged by a man pretending to be a commercial photographer.

Fae

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

er =e

would never have gone off voluntarily
and left them to starve. Lieutenant Mar-
vin Jones, day watch commander of the
Wilshire section and Detective Com-
mander Erwin Smith needed no con-
vincing that it was serious.

Miss Mercado’s apartment was
searched and a box full of letters and
documents was collected and brought

to the station house for sifting. The ,

papers revealed that the missing glamour
model was a native of Plattsburg, N: Y.,
and had lived in Florida before coming
to California. On arrival she had taken
a turn at striptease dancing before get-
ting work for various Hollywood photo
studios. Just recently, the brunette
beauty had gone into business for her-
self as a free-lance model specializing
in nude poses. She catered to profes-
sionals and amateurs alike and even
kept a stock of photo equipment and
film at her apartment for aspiring
neophytes. She got her clients through
newspaper ads.

Lieutenant Smith wired authorities
in Plattsburg and requested any avail-
able background information they had
on Ruth Mercado. Police departments
in Florida were also requested to supply

any information they had. Sergeant
E. V. Jackson and Sergeant Malvin
Erbsen were assigned to assist Light
in the investigation. ,

As a first step, a circular on the
missing girl was drawn up, listing her as
5 feet 1, 110 pounds, dark hair and
eyes, medium complexion with small
moles on her left cheek and chin.

Through the letters and documents
found in the apartment, the investiga-
tors were able to compile a list of
many of Ruth’s acquaintances. All
these were thoroughly checked and
questioned. It seems that the brunette
pinup model had more male friends
than female. Many of these were habi-
tues of the bars and cafes along Pico
and Crenshaw Boulevards, and revealed
Ruth had been a frequent customer
also.

Sergeant Light, Erbsen and Jackson
talked to 60 or 70 of the model’s
friends, clients and acquaintances and
held several of them as possible suspects.
They followed up on scores of tips
and ran down every possible lead. Still
Ruth Mercado did not return to her
apartment and the investigators were
without a real clue as to her fate. Just

as in the previous disappearances,
routine proceedure was gone through
thoroughly and the weeks went by with-
out a break in the case. Once again the
Judy Dull file was dusted, off. It de-
veloped that both models had posed
nude for several of the same men.
These clients were questioned with no.
positive results. The cases were com-
pared, but there was no reason to as-
sume that there was any relationship
between the two. A lead developed that
pointed to Ruth Mercado having been
involved in the Los Angeles prostitution
racket. The investigators turned their
attention to the possibility that the
model’s disappearance was the work of
the organized underworld. Thorough
checking’ quickly eliminated this pos-
sibility and October found the detec-
tives looking for one good clue to the
mystery.

T this point, events began to unfold
that would soon break all three
cases wide open. The final chapter in
the disappearance of the pinup models
started at a photo studio on Sunset
Boulevard in Hollywood at 9 P.M. on
(Continued on page 53)

Sheriff's detective points to remains of Ruth Mercado found in a state park east of San Diego California.

‘ma a ..F

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE


and Sergeant Walsh rap-—
sor of a trailer parked on —
. An extremely young and <

regnant girl opened the
p~rted to a green Edsel
H side of the trailer.
c yner.

s my husband,” said the

1, someone wants to see .

se it’s about a ticket or

e Steuteville came to the
de was 19 years old, dark
d of a thick and bushy
. His face was thin and,
nt, there seemed to be a
in his eyes.

d ownership of the Edsel. _ —

with us,” said Trawick.
ask you some questions.”
didn’t argue. He said,
ind accompanied the offi-
car. He was silent during
heriff Young’s office.
ung confronted the sus-
ais desk. “Steuteville,” he
‘you know what we want
. about. I believe we have
who say Jean Schumann
‘car on Monday evening.
to tell us about it?”
considered this question
noment, then shook his

know anything about it,”

ily.
constantly through Fri-
le still persisted in deny-
ection with the murder.
‘day morning, he
: detector test. Then,
‘tu uae polygraph, he ap-
ralize that further lying
1 no good.
uddenly, “All right, Ill
glad to get this off my

it developed, had met
r the first time at a drive-
ay night. Her car had
de his and she had orally
flashy Edsel. They dis-
; matters and learned that
d mutual friends. Jean
Steuteville to go along
dance in Alameda.

had made a phone call
ad learned that the dance
ed off. She left her own
1 the street and climbed
i Edsel with Ronald Lee

1 to go to a movie,” said
ut we didn’t have enough
2 drove around, through
tsburg and Port Chicago,
to the El Sobrante Lov-

to Steuteville, they had
Then, he somehow got
this constituted an “infi-
wife.
d her T was going home,”
bi 2 didn’t like that.
re) id she’d turn it off
about ten times. I pushed
| she started to scream.
she’d get me in all kinds
ot mad and I hit her.”
insisted he had begged

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE

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Jean Marie to get out of the car. When
she flatly refused, he thought of a
paring knife which was in the glove
compartment. \

“I took it out. I thought maybe I
could scare her. But she didn’t get
scared. Then I hit her. I’m not sure
whether I meant to hit her with my
fist or with the knife. I blacked out.”

But the coroner insists that Steute-
ville hit Jean Marie four times in the
chest with the knife. In his opinion she
died almost instantly.

The veteran officers who had worked
hard and long to solve the case had
good reason to question the confessed
killer’s story of what happened in Lov-
er’s Lane.:Marie Schumann was dead.
She could not tell her side of the story.
And a man facing a murder charge is
likely to say anything that will make
him look better in the eyes of the court
that tries him.

On Tuesday, July 17th, Ronald
Steuteville was arraigned in San Pablo
Municipal Court before Judge Wilson
Locke. There, Steuteville pleaded not
guilty to a murder charge; he appeared
far more concerned about his wife and
nine month old baby than he did about

PSYCHO’S TRAP FOR GIRL MODELS
(Continued from page 37)

the Monday night of October 27th,
1958. The agency was owned and oper-
ated by a beautiful, statuesque brunette
of French descent who called herself
Betty Sands.

That evening the door bell rang at
the agency and Betty opened it to a
young man who she knew by the name
of Frank Johnson. He was an amateur
photographer for. whom the 20-year-
old brunette beauty had posed the pre-
vious summer before she had opened
her own agency. On that Monday night
Johnson had come to ask if Betty would
pose for him again.

The brunette beauty said that she
was busy, but that Johnson could try
again in a few days. The following day
the amateur photographer called again
at the agency and asked Betty if she
would come to his apartment and pose
for him. As the model later recalled,
there was something about Johnson’s
taut nervous face and large glaring eyes
set between prominent ears, that made
her nervous. His unkempt clothes and
shaggy brown hair repelled the profes-
sional pinup model.

“OK, I'll pose for you,” Betty had
said, “but only if we go in my car and
take along a chaperone.”

This didn’t suit Johnson. He wanted
to go to his apartment in his car and
he wanted no one else present when

Betty posed for him. Betty wouldn’t

have it and as an alternative, thought of
a friend of hers who was anxious to

break into the modeling profession and

HEADQUARTERS DETECTIVE.

the trouble with the law.

“IT want to see my wife and child,”
he said. But his 16 year old wife who
was expecting a second child did not visit
her husband in prison. She vanished
from their trailer home in Church
Lane and remained in seclusion.

Judge Locke ordered Steuteville held
without bail and set a date for the
suspect’s preliminary hearing.

As the -prisoner was being returned
to his cell, sheriff’s officers conducting
a. thorough search of the flashy Edsel
discovered the murder weapon, a blood
stained paring knife which had been
hidden beneath the dashboard, the
weapon which, in a single enraged mo-
ment, made certain forever that the
Twist girl would never dance again.

Ronald Steuteville was given a speedy .

trial and found guilty of homicide. The
jury recommended mercy and the flare-
tempered killer was sent to prison and
is still there serving time. *

Editor’s Note: The names Mary Tay-
lor, Lisa Klaun, Sam Batters, Ronnie
Exelt, Anna Farkel, Alexander Mion-
des, Arthur and Ruth Means and Joe
are fictitious.

who might be willing to pose under the
conditions set forth by the nervous
Johnson.

The girl Betty had in mind was raven-
haired, 27-year-old Anita Serota, small
shapely and anxious to get into the
modeling profession. Anita, of Latin
extraction, had only recently come to
Los Angeles from San Francisco where
she had worked in a bank as a stenog-
rapher. She had become friendly with
Betty Sands after answering her ad in
a newspaper. As yet she had had no
modeling assignments,

Betty phoned Anita and asked if
she would pose for Johnson. She ex-
plained that she herself had posed for
him before. Anita accepted and Betty
Sands gave Johnson the address of the
private home in the Wilshire district
where the amateur model lived. As goon
as Johnson left, Betty picked up ‘the
phone and called Anita Serota. She
warned her friend to be careful of
Johnson.

“There’s something about
don’t like,” she said.

Johnson arrived at Anita’s home at
9:30 P.M. and honked loudly on the
horn of his Dodge coupe. The aspiring
model came out and got into the
car. She asked for her $15 dollar fee
in advance. The nervous jug-eared man
handed the girl $10 saying he would
give her the balance after the job was
through. Johnson drove east toward
downtown Los Angeles.

“This isn’t the way to Betty’s studio,”
the raven-tressed Latin beauty said.
“Aren’t we going there?”

“We’re. not going there,” Johnson
replied. “Someone else is going to use
Betty’s studio. We'll use mine instead.

him I

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