Category: Kim Cooper

Tomorrow (Wednesday) night, Fox-11 News in Los Angeles features the 1947project Crime Bus Tour during the 10pm newscast. And on Thursday, pick up the L.A. Times Calendar section to read all about the Dahlia Day tour and the folks behind the blog and Crime Bus.

We anticipate a lot of interest in seats on future Crime Bus tours, so please remind your friends who are interested in riding to subscribe to our mailing list, so they’ll be among the first to hear when a tour is announced.

yours noirishly,
Kim

January 24, 1947
Chicago

Future singer-songwriter, and mythologizer of a uniquely seedy ’70s noir L.A., Warren Zevon is born today.

Taking a momentary break from historic gore and wackiness, I’d like to extend an invitation to SoCal readers to join me at Book Soup on the Sunset Strip on Weds., February 8, at 7pm for a reading, book signing and q&a for my 33 1/3 book “Neutral Milk Hotel’s ‘In The Aeroplane Over The Sea.'” This is the oral history of a fascinating and influential psychedelic rock band of the nineties who spun out of a wonderful creative community called Elephant 6.

WHAT: Kim Cooper reads from Neutral Milk Hotel band bio
WHERE: Book Soup, 8818 Sunset Blvd., WeHo CA 90069. Free lot parking.
WHEN: Weds., February 8, 2006, 7:00pm

More info.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled noir.

January 23, 1947
Bell

Theodore K. Oakvid, now 64, was young and spry in November 1928, when he murdered his 12-year-old daughter Sophia with a hammer, then slashed his own throat in a failed suicide attempt. The victim was found by her brother Algird in her bedroom at 7026 Flora Avenue when he went to wake her up.

When revived, Oakvid explained that he had feared for the child’s sanity, and had killed her because she would have been unable to navigate the rough waters of adulthood. But Algird told police that his father had first tried to kill Sophy when she was an infant, and over the years and his many comings and goings in the family had constantly harped on the inferiority of girl children.

Alienists declared Oakvid insane and shipped him off to Mendocino and Patton State Hospitals, from which he now re-emerges, having, it is said, been cured. He told reporters that it had been 14 years since he’d seen his wife or son, and that he reckoned he’d head out to San Berdoo to look up some relatives, among them Florence Powell.

January 22, 1947
Los Angeles

18 months ago, the tensions between Mrs. Lillian Goldberg, 1921 Garth Ave., and Mrs. Martha Kelly, of 1917, exploded. For more than a year, the families had endured mutual accusations of destroyed fences, ripped up landscaping, tossed rocks and ill-aimed hoses.

Then, under the pretense of making peace, La Goldberg asked La Kelly over to meet a prospective buyer for the Goldberg manse, and share a pot of tea… but as they walked together to 1921, according to La Kelly, La Goldberg grabbed her around the throat and chortled “I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time!” Soon the two women were rolling around in the flower bed. The residents of Garth Ave., by now used to such hijinx, gathered around to watch the fun.

Then from the Goldberg house emerged a man dressed like a cowboy–actually R. G. Hampton, a private detective hired to stay in the home and observe such incidents–firing a gun and demanding the fighting stop or he’d shoot the combatants! Mrs. Goldberg was arrested for disturbing the peace, with Hampton charged for firing a gun within city limits.

During court time soon after the incident, La Kelly acknowledged that she washed her sidewalk whenever La Goldberg passed over it, telling neighbors that this was a necessary chore whenever “that dirty rat” passed by. But she refused to admit to throwing rocks at the Goldberg house, and painted herself as the innocent victim. This tone continued in today’s court session, as she elaborated on the tale of assault, including the allegation that Goldberg’s husband David and 16-year-old daughter Norma assisted in the beating.

Mrs. Goldberg is seeking $201,000 damages for malicious prosecution, while Mrs. Kelly considers her own damages worth a comparatively paltry $200,200. The trial continues tomorrow.

January 21, 1947
San Pedro

When Jay Dee Chitwood fell in front of a truck near 203rd Street and Western Avenue in August 1944, the coroner thought he had a simple accidental death on his table. But look closer. Cause of death: punctured lung? Hardly a typical injury for someone hit by a car.

Only nobody did look closer until today, when officers picked up Mrs. Helen Chitwood, who had been yapping to a gentleman friend about how she’d stabbed her husband twice and watched him fall into the street, and the dopey cops never noticed the knife wounds. Detectives dropped by Helen’s pad at 888 1/2 Hamilton Way to ask if that’s how it happened. Sure, she told them, we had a fight and it happened just like that.

Mrs. Chitwood is cooling her heels in the San Pedro Jail, and the coroner has got some ‘splaining to do.

January 20, 1947
Los Feliz

Everyone says Henry R. Smith, 20, was a different boy when he came home after his Navy service. Morose, nervous. Still, two months ago he was all smiles when he married Barbara Anne Chilton, 19. The newlyweds moved into Barbara’s parents’ home at 1612 Hillhurst. Chester Chilton is a building contractor, and Henry went to work as his assistant.

Last night the young couple was celebrating Barbara’s return from a trip to San Francisco. They went out on the town with Chester, and returned to find the house thick with the smell of burning meat; a ham had been forgotten in the oven. (This would never have happened if the Mrs. were home, but she’s in Detroit settling a family estate.)

Chester raced to the kitchen to deal with the mess, while Henry and Barbara retired to their bedroom. Half an hour later, a terrible boom split the evening’s peace. Henry ran out into the hall, shotgun in hand, and cried “My God, Pop, kill me. I just shot Barbara!”

Chester passed his son-in-law and saw his daughter splayed out on the bedroom floor, shot through the eyes. Henry came up behind him. Chester wheeled and raced out of the house, thinking he had to call the police, get help, get away, do something…

Another shot rang out. Henry Smith had blown his brains out.

January 19, 1947
Hollywood

Stepping from a restaurant at 7050 Hollywood Boulevard towards their parked car, Hollywood Roosevelt Orchestra leader Freddy Rhea, his contractor roommate David Picken and Bunny Gravert, songbird with Rhea’s outfit, were robbed by a trio of trash-talkin’ banditos who relieved both men of their watches and Rhea of $70 in cash and $2000 in checks. The lady escaped unmolested.

January 18, 1947
South Gate

Two years ago, when she was 20, Mrs. Elaine Chatt Shedden gave birth to her second son, Robert, and suffered a nervous breakdown. She was voluntarily committed to Camarillo State Hospital, and spent three months there. Her marriage fell apart, and Mr. Shedden moved to Chicago. Elaine and the children settled in with her parents at 9230 Virginia Ave. and for a while things weren’t so bad.

Then they were. Mrs. Mabel Vanessa Winters Terwilliger, 46, lurched out into her yard, a knife wound in her back. Daughter Elaine came after her, and plunged the blade into Mabel’s side. The older woman was D.O.A. on arrival at Maywood Hospital.

Elaine, weirdly calm as only the mad can be, had changed out of her bloody dress and sandals and was scrubbing her hands when Capt. T.R. Chase and Sgt. Joe Heymans arrived. Sure, she stabbed her mother. The woman had nagged her about doing the dishes, and was plotting with her brother Robert Winters to have her involuntarily committed to a state institution. “I just couldn’t stand it,” said Elaine.

The children witnessed the incident, and neighbors, hearing screams as Elaine chased her dying mother out of the house and 40 feet onto the drive, called police.

January 17, 1947
Los Angeles

Mrs. Jessie Founder, all 100 pounds and 64-years of her, betrayed bravery beyond her station when a would-be burglar was spotted on her back porch. Matthew R. Rudolph, 21, armed with a 2 x 4 and a bottle, grappled with Mr. Founder for the latter’s gun, so Miz Jessie crept up behind the louse with a lead pipe and started swinging. Rudolph suffered head injuries and died hours later in the prison ward at County General.

The Founders live at 1750 E. 118th Street, ; before his head was caved in, Mr. Rudolph hung his hat at 1644 1/2 Palm Ave.