The Sad Case of the Model and Her Baby

December 3, 1947
Toluca Lake/ Hermosa Beach

It took police some time to piece it all together, but when they did, they found that familiar tragedy of a man of mature years, the young, troubled model he married, a love that burned but briefly, the child caught between them, and money. Always money.

The tale unraveled when Sam Wartnik, 45, sportswear manufacturer with offices at 1020 Wall Street, had his attorney ask Wartnik’s partner Al Hirschfeld and employee Clifford Jones to drop by the house where his wife and son had been living solo since the he filed for divorce last week. Wartnik, in San Francisco on business, had been unable to get Lena Mae, 30, on the phone, and was concerned she might have done something rash.

This was the gal, after all, who he painted in his divorce suit as a drunk and drug abuser, a person who had once tried and several times threatened to kill him. All the same, he’d left baby Neil Ellis in Lena Mae’s care.

On the door of the little Cape Cod-style house at 4545 Clybourn Avenue they found a note: “Have gone to spend week-end with friends.” They broke in.

Lena Mae was big on notes. Along with the blood splattered in every room they found the one that said “Sam, here are the keys. Now you can sell the home and gloat over your MONEY.”

And the one on the back of Lena Mae’s summons to a custody suit that was to be held this morning. It said “Sam, this summons is my reward for standing by you through thick and thin. Well, this is what you’ve often begged me to do so I’m doing it–and taking my sweet, precious Neil with me. Too bad, cause we both did love life since you left us broke but happy together. We got well together with your beat-up presence away. Good bye…”

And they found Neil, dressed only in a diaper and his own congealed blood, strangled on a bed. He’d been that way for a couple of days. Propped on another bed, a whimsical book for expectant fathers.

The hotel manager found Lena Mae in the Hermosa Biltmore, covered in hesitation cuts, ultimately dead perhaps of poison. And more notes. “Bleeding to death is so slow but I do want my baby buried in my arms.” And in her wallet, beside the season pass to Santa Anita, on the back of a mailing receipt for something sent to her husband at his office on November 10, a day after they separated, “I am Mrs. Sam Wartnik. Notify Los Angeles Police.”

Sam and Lena Mae were married in Las Vegas on May 19, 1946. Baby Neil was born on January 24, and died around December 1.

2005 intrudes, happily

1947project got a little contemporary notice today, in a piece in the L.A. Times exploring the bloggers of Los Angeles, and in a pre-nomination for an Urb Award from Gridskipper. To stay in the running for that Best L.A. Blog Urb (Urbie?), we need to get seconded and thirded, so if you like this blog, please drop by Gridskipper and let them know, in an email or comment, that you think 1947project deserves to be considered in our category.

We thank you. And now, back to your regularly scheduled 1940s.

Cops Clean House in Watts

December 2, 1947
Watts

Police at the 77th Street Station are wrapping up a two-day sweep of neighborhood nogoodniks, having dragged 31 suspected robbers (male) and 8 grand theft person suspects (female) out of bars at 10218 and 10224 Graham Ave. A number of those arrested were armed with knives. No additional details were provided.

Further neighborhood reading:

Lou Costello’s Mama Gets Robbed

December 1, 1947
Studio City

It was 2 am, but the lights were blazing in Mrs. Helen Cristillo’s home at 4037 Coldwater Canyon. Helen and her sister Mrs. Alma Kelly were in the kitchen, preparing gifts for the Lou Costello Jr. Foundation Benefit Bazaar, when they heard a noise in a guest room and discovered the furniture in disarray. A ladder propped outside the window and the missing screen made it clear that they were dealing with thieves, not poltergeists, and the cops were called.

When houseguests Mr. and Mrs. Louis Failla came home soon after, Mrs. Failla discovered her jewelry box and its contents valued at $3715 was missing. And Helen Cristillo found that her purse, which had contained eight hundred dollar bills and a $7000 pair of diamond and platinum earscrews (a gift from Helen’s proud son, comic Lou, last Christmas), was also missing.

Not a bad haul for a few minutes work, but assuredly the act of someone without any holiday spirit. Phooey!

Hurrah for the telephone!

November 30, 1947
Los Angeles

Hurrah for the telephone!

First, Mrs. L.B. Beddoe, 4587 Date Ave., La Mesa, received a call from daughter Pamela Evans, who said she was going to kill herself. Mama called the LAPD business office and asked if someone could please stop her.

Radio patrolmen J.P. Hooper and T.A. Gibson raced to Pamela’s pad at 104 N. Catalina, where the 19-year-old department store worker was passed out beside an empty pill box. The officers rushed her to Hollywood Receiving Hospital for a stomach pumping. Pamela presently revived, and murmured of the financial woes that had inspired her act.

But happily the phone had still been working, and so the lady lives. Moral: always pay your phone bill first.

The Mystery of the Vanishing Cash

November 29, 1947
Los Angeles

Bertha Bremley, 5809 Blackstone, Bellflower, is baffled. It was less than two blocks from the clothing shop at 529 S. Broadway to the bank, she remembers nothing unusual happening during her walk, and yet when she arrived she no longer was holding the money bag containing $1000 in checks and $2155 cash which she intended to deposit.

That is one smooth pickpocket! Downtown strollers beware.

The Ballad of Homer and the Washboard

November 28, 1947
Los Angeles

In sentencing ex-con Homer Stone, 45, to a stint of one to ten years in San Quentin, Judge Clement D. Nye didn’t praise Stone for pleading guilty and saving the state time and money, no. Rather, he rode the man who admits he beat his mother with a washboard after she accused him of being drunk.

“She called me a bad name, your honor,” whined Homer. “I don’t think she called you nearly enough,” said the Judge. “If I had been there I’m sure I would have called you exactly what she did.” Whereupon, one assumes, Homer would have beat Judge Nye with a washboard, so it’s just as well he wasn’t. The Stone home: 339 W. 46th Street.

Recommended listening: “Washboard” by the magnificent, mysteriously under-rated Florida garage band The Nightcrawlers.

Low Visibility

November 27, 1947
Los Angeles

Driving in heavy fog last night, Chief Petty Officer Lavern J. Ringle, USN, veered off the road at Crenshaw and Manhattan Beach Boulevards and struck a eucalyptus tree. The collision fatally injured Ringle’s 15-month-old daughter Cecelia Ann and left her mother Mae Amy in serious condition. Also slightly injured were Roger Ringle, 6, and his friend Ronald Taber, 1o. The Ringles reside at 920 Silva Street, Long Beach.

Crippled Lad Routs Would-Be Kidnapper

November 25, 1947
Los Angeles

16-year-old William Brooks Tissue was minding a used car lot for the owner when William F. Anserson, 25, asked Billy to show him what one of the cars could do. Once they were moving, Anderson produced a pistol and demanded the boy keep driving east. At 76th Street and Atlantic Ave., the brave youth ran the car up onto a curb and lunged for Anderson’s pistol. Anderson ran, and was quickly arrested on a charge of kidnapping and robbery by two police officers who witnessed the incident.

Brave Billy Tissue weighs just 110 pounds and wears steel leg braces following an attack of infantile paralysis in 1938.

Girls Get Gassed

November 24, 1947
Inglewood

Clunk! Gas leaking from a new heater inside a garment plant at 104th Street and Grevillea Ave. poisoned five women, who keeled over their electric sewing machines around 10:30 this morning and had to be carried outside by their woozy co-workers. The women were given oxygen by a Fire Department rescue team, with the most seriously afflicted taken to Harbor General for observation.

After the firemen left, the remaining women returned to work, and soon the vacant lot beside the plant was filled with another round of queasy, disoriented gals. The firemen came back to treat these new victims.

Later still, the women who had been helping the others finally succumbed after eating their gas-soaked lunches, and the firemen came out for a third time. Only then were plant owners Mrs. amd Mrs. Cecil Webb told to shut up shop and fix the damn heater before allowing anyone back to work.