Assault – Page 4 – 1947 Project

Brute Jealousy

May 31, 1927
Venice

If you needed proof of how the world has changed in 80 years, you need look no further than the news stories surrounding the police search for and arrest of Joe Hordeman, "elderly" war veteran and pipe murder suspect, and of Hordeman’s "December" romance with divorcee Victoria Woods, who he met at an "old folks dance" at the Sawtelle veteran’s home in late 1925.

Hordeman was enamored of Mrs. Woods and hoped to marry or go into business with her, but she found other men more fascinating. She enjoyed dancing, something Hordeman was not inclined to do with her, despite their initial meeting place. Recently she had befriended Emma O’Bell, who became her roommate and encouraged her friend’s active romantic life.

Hordeman couldn’t stand it. He bought a lead pipe and went to Mrs. Woods’ home at 109 Brooks Avenue when he thought two of her suitors would be in attendance. But he found only Mrs. Woods and Mrs. O’Bell, sitting on the porch. Incensed, he asked Mrs. Woods to go inside where they could discuss his concerns, and a raving argument erupted. Hordeman pulled out his pipe and beat her unconscious, then took a knife and neatly cut her Achilles tendons to ensure she would never dance again. He needn’t have bothered save for the symbolism; she died of her injuries. Mrs. O’Bell saw the attack through the window and rushed inside, and was herself badly beaten. Saved from injury was Mrs. Woods’ daughter, who had gone to Chicago the morning of the slaying to speak with her father about her parents reuniting.

The whole horrible affair was witnessed by 15-year-old neighbor Catherine Franklin through her kitchen window, but the dishwashing girl was so traumatized that she did not immediately cry out, and the killer walked down the alley and escaped. He turned himself in the next day after registering at a Los Angeles hotel and mistakenly crossing the d in Ford, when he had meant to use the pseudonym Fort; he was convinced this error would lead to his quick arrest. At his trial in August, Hordeman, who had once claimed he dare not confess lest "the Klan" kill him for harming Mrs. Woods, suddenly changed his plea to guilty after Mrs. O’Bell testified, and was sentenced to one year to life in San Quentin.

The decrepit Hordeman was variously reported as being 52, 60 or 62, old lady Mrs. Woods 55.

Mama Said Thereâ€™d Be Days Like This

May 22, 1927
Los Angeles

Sometimes a guy just can’t catch a break: ask three ruffians who had little to show after today’s “reign of terror” except black eyes and bruises.

Stealing a flivver was the easy part. The trouble began when they tried to hold up a disabled man, William Gehem, at the intersection of Sunset Boulevard and Benton Way. Unimpressed by the large revolvers aimed at his person, Gehem smacked one of them out of his assailant’s hand with his crutch. In retaliation, the bandits knocked him down and robbed him of $12.

The trio next drew their guns on one Sol Feyer. Accosted on the Cornwall Street bridge in Hollenbeck Heights, the feisty Feyer grabbed one of the guns and threw it in the gutter. He then acquitted himself with his fists so well that the bandits jumped into their car and sped off—but not before Feyer, lying bruised in the street, reached up and removed their license plate.

Things went a little better at Rosemont Avenue and Larchmont Boulevard, where the hoodlums held up John Lentz without incident, making off with $100 in cash and jewelry.

But such luck couldn’t hold. Their next “victim,” Walter Swanson (attacked while walking at Pasadena Avenue and Avenue 63), beat two members of the gang with such gusto that police believe they were forced to abandon their nefarious activities for the night. Swanson estimated he battled with the beasts for ten minutes before losing consciousness and being dragged into a vacant lot, where he was stripped of $7 in cash and a $60 watch.

Acting on a telephone tip, police arrested the 19-year-old driver of the stolen getaway car at Pasadena Avenue and Piedmont Street. One can only assume he was relieved to see them.

Never Trust A Guy Called “Happy”

May 17, 1927
Venice

Druggist W.G. Ferrel, manager of the store at Windward and Ocean Front, was not pleased with the quality of work performed by Negro janitor Claude "Happy" Douglas, and so he took a moment this morning to rebuke his employee of six years for latest poor mop job.

"Happy" must have had a bad night, for instead of shuffling his feet and "yessir"-ing the boss man in the time-honored tradition, he pulled out a huge blade and stabbed Ferrel in the back. The metal bent against bone, and "Happy" pulled it out again, twisted and useless.

Then he made a run for the door, but he obviously hadn’t noticed Patrolman French, who was in the telephone booth. Hearing the commotion, French stepped out with revolver drawn and stopped the would-be slayer at the scene. Farrel was rushed to Loamshire Hospital, Santa Monica, in serious condition, and "Happy" held on charges of attempted murder.

Of course, all this might have been avoided, had Farrel checked his employee’s references. For "Happy" is almost certainly the same Claude Douglas, then 30, who in July 1920 savagely assaulted his employer Mrs. Emma Davy, manageress of the Atlas Hotel at 10th and Figueroa, when she discovered him in the basement with a cache of stolen fabric from the Patsy Frock and Romper Company next door. Mrs. Davy, whose shoulder was dislocated, eye injured and arm sprained, was only saved by the intervention of her adult sons George and Allen, who held Douglas until police arrived. Later, in Douglas’ rooms at 1326 East Fourteenth Street, they found a great quantity of good stolen from the Atlas.

Mrs. Davy seems to have taken this as a sign, and in October leased the Atlas to the YWCA, which transformed it into a dormatory for transient women, at which point "Happy" might have wished he’d controlled his temper.

The Fiend in Human Form

fiend

May 14, 1927
Long Beach

Miss Madeline Lindsley was on her way home from a party when shortly before midnight, the pretty 19 year old encountered a man who abruptly grabbed her by the neck, and threw her violently to the pavement. The attack occurred in front of 434 Pacific Avenue, one block from the victim”™s home and two blocks from police headquarters.

Summoned by Madeline”™s screams, four local men: H.K. Klingraef, 111 West Fifth Street; E.E. Peterson, 634 Cedar Avenue; Larry Moore, a Kress Store employee, and M.R. Hodges of 3117 Wilton Street rushed to her aid. The girl”™s cowardly assailant fled when he heard her rescuers approach.

The posse gave chase through several streets and unlit alleyways until they nabbed their man. Neighbors telephoned police and the suspect was taken into custody by two detective sergeants, Wright and Dixon.

“He acted like an insane man”, Miss Lindsley told police, following the ferocious assault.

The accused, Mr. Walter S. Pawling, lives with his wife and two children. He confessed to police that he is employed as a professional rum runner, and told them that he had just completed a trip delivering illegal hooch from Catalina Island to San Pedro.

Police discovered two ounces of chloroform and two eighteen inch lengths of rope concealed in Mr. Pawling”™s pocket. Accustomed as they are to the various tools of illicit trades, even police were bewildered by his peculiar choice of equipment. Without missing a beat, Pawling glibly explained that he uses the chloroform and rope to defend himself against hijackers while on his late night coastal runs. Police were evidently so stunned by his story that they failed to request a demonstration of the weapons.

Fleeing an angry mob or thwarting an attack by hijackers is a dangerous business, so Mr. Pawling may wish to reconsider the effectiveness of his arsenal. Packing a concealed bottle of chloroform and two flaccid lengths of rope is no way for a grown man to defend himself.

In the future he might consider hurling a snappy bon mot, wielding a rapier-like wit, or brandishing a snub-nosed .38.

Daddy Dearest

May 8, 1927
Hollywood

“What’s a father to do?” lamented Dr. Eric R. Wilson today, after his 17-year-old daughter, Dorothy, accused him of beating her and taking her money before throwing her out of the house. Police officers escorted the girl to Juvenile Hall after they discovered her, hysterical, outside the family home at 176 North Mansfield Avenue, Hollywood. Their first stop, however, was at Receiving Hospital, where Dorothy was treated for a broken nose, injuries to her eyes, and bruises to her lips and body.

Wilson admitted he “slapped” Dorothy after he and his wife returned from the theater last night and observed shadowy figures slipping out the side entrance as they entered the front door. Dorothy denied she had gentlemen callers while her parents were out. “She lied to me, and I make no apology for it,” said Wilson. “I slapped her down. She hit the side of the davenport and rolled on the floor, and then she pulled the hysterical stuff.” He denied taking Dorothy’s money or ordering her to leave home.

According to her father, among other wild pranks, Dorothy broke into garages and took cars without their owners’ permission (some might call this grand theft auto, but not Dr. Wilson). “I tried everything to make her happy,” the put-upon father continued, “I gave her an allowance of $50 a month and promised her a roadster if she would pass in her studies, but it did no good. She is incorrigible; she was put out of Hollywood High School; I tried to place her in the Ramona convent and they wouldn’t take her.”

Officials at Juvenile Hall confirmed that Dorothy Wilson was incommunicado pending an interview with a policewoman.

The Street Crime of the Day

May 1, 1927
Los Angeles

In the Times today, a round-up of street crime incidents calculated to terrorize city residents, or at least discourage freelance musicians, good Samaritans and lingering outside a lady’s home in an open car–sheesh, buddy, get a room.

Clarinetist Antonio Cili thought he was being hired to play a gig when three gentlemen picked him up at Sixth and Broadway, drove to Fourth and Pecan, tossed him from the car, beat him silly and stole his instrument and $20.

Jennie Emerson of 2611 Vallejo Street was nearly run down in the street while crossing at Daly and Manitou in Lincoln Heights, and while recovering her wits confronted by the armed driver and his pal, who threatened to kill her before stealing her purse.

A bandit robbed J. Maganuma of $40 cash and a serving of chop suey at his restaurant at 4911 South Broadway. It was not reported if Mr. Maganuma spat in the food, but we certainly hope so.

A. Eisner was carjacked at First and New Hampshire, forced to drive to Sixth and Lucas and relieved of his $100 stick pin, $40 watch and $8 cash. Maybe it’s Eisner’s home address of 5579 Santa Monica Boulevard or the fancy stick pin that gives this brief tale the whiff of rough trade, or possibly we just have dirty minds.

Joseph Michael, while strolling by a doorway near First and Main was lassoed by a couple of rope-wielding miscreants who strangled Michael into unconsciousness and stole $35, this just two blocks from Central Police HQ.

Kindly Arthur Roper was driving along (now defunct) California Street near Figueroa when he spied a fashionably garbed young lady in apparent distress in the middle of the road. He stopped to lend aid and her friend hopped onto Roper’s running board with a revolver, which was clapped to Roper’s chest while the gal riffled his pockets of $53 cash.

And then there was Jacob L. Johannes of 228 South Rodeo Drive, who was sitting in a car with Miss Marie Boucher outside her home at 5806 Carlton Way when a fiend with a revolver relieved the lady of a $1000 fur coat, $75 watch and $50 bar pin. Johannes lost $6 cash. Buddy, you can’t afford a room… or Miss Boucher.

Now be careful out there!

Wither Sim Cross?

April 27, 1927
Los Angeles

Sim Cross is alive, ALIVE! The Los Angeles man, resident of 4195 Third Avenue, was believed a suicide by pals after a full suit of clothes but the underpants were found on the beach at Redondo on April 19. Mugs were raised, his good and bad points debated, and perhaps the pals even parcelled out his nicest ties among them. But on the 21st there came a telegram, signed Sim and sent from San Francisco, announcing that reports of his demise were not to be believed.

In time, he returned home, bearing a singularly peculiar tale. The last thing he remembered, see, he was fighting a riptide. And then, inky darkness. He came to 48 hours later in an SF hotel room, with bruised feet and no idea how he got there. In the room, clothes and a suitcase he’d never seen before. He dressed, and stepped into the street, where two men accosted him. It was thanks to them, they said, that Sim was in this spot. And now all they needed was for him to take someone’s place in a hospital for a few more days and…

Here Sim drew the curtain over one of the most perfect descriptions of cliche detective’s peril as we’ve ever read. He claims that he simply demured and came home.

Was it all fantasy? Or did once there dwell strangely maleable hoodlums, who would conk a guy while he swam and spirit him away to play a part in a bandage opera, then let him go when he said he wasn’t in the mood? We’ll never know, for after this one extraordinary incident, Sim Cross vanished from the record, but never from our hearts.

Glamorous Hollywood

actor

April 17, 1927
Hollywood

Motion-picture actor J. Wallace Walker, of 1636 Argyle, had lost his fiancé (and also-actress [as Jane Terry]) Polly Wheaton to another gent, one James Lewis. Miss Wheaton and Mr. Lewis were having coffee in Lewis’ apartment at 525 Santa Barbara Avenue when Walker burst in brandishing a butcher knife. Walker forced Wheaton into his car and beat her as he drove, until she leapt out at Beverly and Western. Walker jumped out after and continued to beat her on the sidewalk until a friendly taxicab driver stopped him and took her to her apartment.

Walker continued on with his illustrious career, while Miss Wheaton is not to be found among cinematic legacy.

A Last Letter

April 9, 1927
Los Angeles

Three years ago there occurred one of the most gruesome crimes in Los Angeles history—the slaying of May and Nina Martin, twelve and eight. They disappeared from their home at 2854 South Mansfield on the evening of August 23, 1924. On February 5, 1925, their battered and strangled bodies found were found by rancher Leo Saulque while he planted oats on the Anita Baldwin estate. “I have prayed to God that He might enable me to find my children,” said Mrs. Paul Buus, the girls’ mother. "My prayers have been answered—now I’ll pray that the brute who lured them away and then killed them will be caught—and God will answer my prayers.”

One Scott Stone, a night watchman in the Glen Airy district where Mrs. Buus and the girls lived, was meanwhile arrested on a charge of contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Circumstantial evidence linked him to the Martin slayings and on October 1, 1925 he was indicted for murder. It seemed that Mrs. Buus’ prayers had been answered.

But Mrs. Buus had trouble—as did others, including the DA—with the concept that Stone would go to the gallows after having been convicted without evidence beyond reasonable doubt. She wrote Governor Young, pleading for Stone, and asking the executive to relieve her of the misery that would follow the execution. And so Stone, on the very morning of his hanging, March 10, 1927, had his sentence commuted to life imprisonment. (Jack Hoxie stated that he was “mighty, mighty glad” for the decision to spare his stepson’s life.)

Today Mrs. Buus wrote a belated but nice letter to Stone, saying she was happy his sentence had been so commuted. Where her heart went from there we do not know.

A Real Nailbiter

demerveux1 Today, fencing master and underwear salesman Lt. Gerard De Mereux was vindicated for the second time in the space of a week. Last week, De Mereux was awarded $500 in damages in a suit against Hollywood director J. Stuart Blackton, who was accused of beating De Mereux with a horsewhip. De Mereux had been living as a guest in Blackton’s home, giving fencing and corrective gymnastics lessons to Blackton’s daughters.

De Mereux testified that Mrs. Blackton had given him a romantic note, and that as a gentleman, "the only honorable thing for him to do was leave." While packing his bags, Mrs. Blackton reportedly began to strike and spit at him, at which point, Blackton entered the room with a riding crop and beat De Mereux about the shoulders and chest. demerveux2

Blackton testified that the attack was prompted by De Mereux’s attack on his wife, during which he choked her and clawed at her with his fingernails, drawing blood. But ho! De Mereux presented to the jury his fingernails, and brought forth numerous witnesses who claimed that De Mereux had spent the past 12 years as a confirmed nailbiter who could not possibly have scratched a soul.

Following the judgment, De Mereux was taken before the Lunacy Commission on an insanity complaint offered by Albert A. Kidder, Blackton’s attorney. After several days of observation, physicians from the Lunacy Commission declared him merely "emotionally unstable," but were unable to find evidence of the insanity complaint, which, among other things claimed that De Mereux had threatened Blackton’s daughters.