Unforgettable Legs

Unforgettable Legs

Short skirts may or may not be a sign of modern depravity, but they registered as a sign of bad luck for Peggy Hudson and her husband, according to reports from Los Angeles. Peggy is now awaiting sentence on a charge of first degree robbery.

Hayward Semi-Weekly Review (Hayward, California), May 15, 1928

Charles Anderson arrived home after a long day at his Los Angeles restaurant, The Red Onion, on the night of March 5, 1928. He pulled his car into the garage, got out of the vehicle and was unpleasantly surprised to discover a man and woman waiting in the shadows for him.

The woman thrust a gun into his ribs and told him to turn out the lights. Once they were extinguished the man ordered Charles onto the ground and tied him up with a piece of rope. Then the couple went through his pockets and robbed him of the day’s profits from the restaurant — $382 cash ($5,640 in 2018).

Before they left the man remarked to Charles, “Guess I’ll have to take your car too. You see I’m an ex-convict and I have to make a quick getaway. Don’t be afraid, though. I don’t want your car and I’ll leave it a couple blocks from here on Reno Street.” And with that puzzling comment, the pair got into his car and drove off into the night.

Charles freed himself and called the police. His car was nowhere to be found.

Bora Hudson has unforgettable legs - Newspapers.com

“I didn’t get a good look at her face, but I saw her legs, and I could pick them out any time,” he told the police. He claimed the legs he’d seen belonged to Nora Hudson, better known as Peggy. She was a woman he’d previously employed as a cashier at his restaurant. He also said he thought he recognized Peggy by her voice but he was less sure of that than he was about her legs. He didn’t know her male companion.

Changes in women’s hemlines in the 1920s meant a lot more leg showed than ever before and naturally men took notice. This careful, possibly even lecherous, observation of his female employee’s legs paid off for Charles. It took two months but the LAPD finally located 20-year-old Peggy by tracing her to her home address on Flower Street in downtown L.A. The police took Peggy and her husband, Willard Hudson, a musician, into custody and booked them on suspicion of robbery.

Was there something unusally memorable about Peggy’s legs? If so it’s not obvious in the news photo.

Williard Hudson mug

California State Archives

Willard’s incriminating comment about having a criminal record turned out to be true. He’d been incarcerated at Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary in Kansas.

A pair of slick criminals the Hudsons were not. With time to cool off they likely realized they’d been foolish to rob a man who knew Peggy. Then they compounded their mistake when Willard confessed his criminal background to their victim.

They pleaded guilty to first-degree robbery and each was sentenced to five years to life in prison. Willard served his sentence at Folsom Prison and Peggy was sent to San Quentin. She was paroled in August 1931 after she was diagnosed with tuberculosis.

Peggy Hudson must go down in history as the only person ever captured and sent to prison after being identified by her legs.

Featured photo: Nora Hudson, alias Peggy Hudson, July 8, 1928; California State Archives; Sacramento, California; San Quentin Mug Book.

San Diego’s Joan of Arc

San Diego’s Joan of Arc

Juanita McKamey, the 20-year-old modern Joan of Arc, who had visions of leading a conquering host of the Industrialists into their proposed new republic, was brought before Judge W.R. Guy of the Juvenile Court today. The bright-eyed maid was undaunted by the surroundings of the law and told the court she did not hear him tell her at her last visit to break connections with the I.W.W.’s.

The Los Angeles Times, March 29, 1912

The year was 1912 and revolution was in the air. The right to free speech and the question of where one could exercise it was a burning issue in America. The California Free Speech League, a newly formed coalition of socialists, left-leaning labor groups, including the International Workers of the World (I.W.W.), single-taxers and church organizations was ready for action.

The group planned a mass parade for the evening of February 8th to test a recently passed city ordinance banning public speech in a seven-square block area of the city that was regarded as “congested” by city leaders, including an area known as “Soapbox Row.” Juanita McKamey, a local manicurist, was one of the parade’s organizers.

At 7:30 p.m. Juanita took up her position, along with several other leaders, at the front of the parade. Standing four abreast the marchers slowly moved forward. As they picked up speed they sang, waved banners and encouraged the three to five thousand onlookers to join them. The group was escorted by a contingent of more than 100 San Diego police officers and a police blockade waited for them at Sixth and E Streets. No one would be arrested as long as the parade kept moving.

When the marchers reached the blockade they moved through it towards Soapbox Row. Wood Hubbard, one of the leaders, tried to mount a soapbox that was hastily set up for the speakers. He was immediately pulled down and roughly arrested. Another female marcher tried next and she too was pulled down and arrested. Juanita was the third person to try to mount the box to speak and she too was forcibly taken into police custody.

The crowd responded to the rough treatment of the speakers by surging forward chanting “Free speech, show that you are Americans.” The police had to expend much of their energy on crowd control, but no one got to speak. The thirty-eight men and three women, including Juanita, who tried to mount the box were arrested and charged with criminal conspiracy.

Three days later Juanita, who’d been bailed out of jail, was arrested again after she spoke at another rally. This time she was charged with being “incorrigible.” In the photo on her police identification card she looks serious and eager to return to the fight. The officer who prepared the card wrote on it that she “was speaking on the corner of 5th and E sts whick is against the law.”

She was put on probation and ordered to drop her association with the I.W.W. She was sentenced to the local Detention Home (for juveniles). This was an odd choice since authorities were aware that, at age 20, she was not a juvenile.

Juanita didn’t intend to follow the court’s orders. Instead she planned to continue what she defined as her “calling” to work for freedom of speech. She organized an escape from a window of the detention facility using a rope she’d fashioned from blankets. The plan was uncovered before she had a chance to put it into action and she was transferred to the city jail to await trial with the others.

iww_3_

The city and county jails overflowed with people arrested for violating the ordinance. Conditions at the jail were unsanitary and some of the inmates got sick. There was mounting opposition to the free speech movement among many locals. When a group of inmates was transferred to a jail in another county, some local vigilantes intercepted the trucks the prisoners were riding in and beat them up.

By late February Juanita was out on bail and agitating for free speech on the streets again. In March she was part of a group of more than 300 protestors hosed by police in front of the City Jail with four hundred pound-pressure fire hoses while jail inmates serenaded the demonstrators by singing “The Marseillaise.”

In the wake of public protest meetings and vigilante violence the city came up with a new ordinance, referred to as the “move-on law.” The new law expanded the area where public speech was prohibited and sanctioned the arrest of anyone who “shall seem likely to obstruct and impede” passage along a city street. The new law proved to be a diaster because if someone even looked like they might make a speech they could be arrested.

The I.W.W. demanded a state investigation of the protest and the police response to it. The investigation discovered no mistreatment of the prisoners. Even the hosing of protesters by police was deemed not to have resulted in any serious consequences. The investigation also found no acts of violence among the protesters.

Juanita attended the state investigation hearings in late April 1912. This was the last time her name came up in protest-related news. By the end of May the I.W.W announced their departure from the San Diego campaign. In mid-June, after a smallpox epidemic broke out in the jail, the last 15 free speech prisoners pleaded guilty, paid fines and were released. The revolution was over.

Who was the young woman the newspapers described as a “modern Joan of Arc?”

Despite her Hispanic first name, Juanita was the Caucasian daughter of Andrew McKamey of Ohio and Sofronia Catherine Clarkford of Virginia. The McKamey’s started their married life in Ohio, and then moved to San Diego, where Juanita was born in 1891. In an atypical move, the family went back east in the late 1890s. Andrew made a living farming in Georgia. They returned to San Diego by 1905 and Andrew found work as a carpenter.

Harry Kizer_crop

California State Archives

After the free speech fight in San Diego ended Juanita continued to live an unconventional life. She had a son, born in 1914, and a daughter, born in 1918. It appears that she was unmarried when her children were born. However she did eventually marry a Pennsylvania man named Harry H. Kizer.

She may have met Harry during the free speech protests when he was also arrested. However he wasn’t the father of her children, because in 1913 Harry did a 3.5 year stint in Folsom State Prison for grand larceny. By 1930, though they still lived under one roof, Juanita and Harry were divorced.

Juanita worked in real estate and was the owner of a “Tia Juana” beer garden. She was a member of the socialist party until at least 1928. She lived for 60 years in Chula Vista, a city south of San Diego, near the border with Mexico. In 1975 she died in Chula Vista and her ashes were scattered at sea.

Further reading: There’s a lot more to know about the San Diego Free Speech Fight of 1912. Click here for an in-depth, eight part article.

Thanks to Sherwood Donahue of Sherwood’s Treasures for connecting me with Juanita McKamey’s police I.D. card. If you’re looking for an interesting mugshot, Sherwood’s your man.

Featured photo: Juanita McKamey, San Diego Police photo dated February 11, 1912. Collection of the author.

Escape from a Bordello

Escape from a Bordello

Mrs. Fay Buck, a woman well known in the Tenderloin, was arrested in Sacramento yesterday on a warrant sworn out by Mrs. Rose Decker of 236 Mason street, charging her with grand larceny. Mrs. Buck formerly lived with Mrs. Decker, and it is alleged that she got into her landlady’s wardrobe one day, got all her finery and then went to Sacramento.

San Francisco Chronicle, November 26, 1904

Fay Buck was in big trouble, arrested for stealing clothing and furs valued at $540 (more than $15,000 in 2018). Despite the dire circumstances she found herself in Fay obviously took the time to style her hair. The updo she sported in her mugshot is nothing short of magnificent.

If you’re wondering why Rose Decker, Fay’s “landlady,” had such valuable clothes, the answer is because she was a madam who ran a “sporting house” in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco. Dressing well would have been a necessity of the job.

Fay testified that she’d arrived in San Francisco without money or friends and had been enticed into a “house of ill-repute.” She said she’d stolen the clothes in order to turn them into cash and escape from a “life of shame.”

Stealing nice clothes was a practice Fay might have learned from Rose. A few months before Fay absconded with Rose’s clothes, Rose herself stole a trunk full of the belongings of Nellie Bennett, one of the working girls in her house. Nellie was late on her rent to the tune of $110 (over $3000 in 2018) so Rose figured she’d help herself to the trunk, which contained clothing and photographs of Nellie’s admirers. Nellie agreed to drop the charges and give the clothes up as long as the photos were returned to her.

california-supreme-court-053-lawlor

William P. Lawlor, California Supreme Court Historical Society

Fay wasn’t so lucky. Rose pursued the charges and Fay was convicted of grand larceny. When she appeared before Judge William P. Lawlor for sentencing, in February 1905, she begged for probation. In support of her plea she presented a letter that her husband, J. Douglass Bucke, had written to the court from his home in Butte, Montana.

Douglass wrote that Fay had always been of good character. He took responsibility for her plight, writing that he should have met her at the dock when she landed in San Francisco. Evidently the plan had been for Fay to travel on her own from her home in Washington State via San Francisco to Montana. How she could do that without funds was an unanswered question. Douglass claimed he was “unable to appear in person to plead for one whom I love and who is alone in the world with the exception of myself.”

Judge Lawlor wanted to hear from Douglass in person so he postponed Fay’s sentencing for a month. The month went by and Douglass wrote again, saying he was now sick in the hospital and couldn’t travel.

Matilda Christ photo. Fay Buck. - Newspapers.com

Prison Matron Matilda Christ

A few more weeks went by and still no Douglass. Tired of waiting for him to show up, Judge Lawlor placed Fay on probation in the care of Matilda Christ, a matron at the San Francisco City Prison. Matilda agreed to be Fay’s guardian and to provide a “good home” in the house she shared with her sister’s family. The deal was that Fay would be paid $10 a month to take care of Matilda’s young niece.

Six weeks later Fay absconded to Seattle. Matilda accused Fay of stealing two of her rings and some of her clothes and underwear. Judge Lawlor put out a bench warrant for Fay. She was arrested in July 1905 and hauled back into court.

Instead of the nanny job she’d been promised, Fay told the judge that Matilda had forced her to work as a waitress in a restaurant. According to Fay, Matilda also made her turn over much of her salary to pay for her room and to pay back a loan she made to Fay for clothing purchases.

After a few weeks of long, tiring days at the restaurant Fay claimed that Matilda came up with an alternative. She suggested that she could rent a flat for Fay to “solicit men” for sex and they’d share in the profits!

Disgusted by the idea and unwilling to return to that life, Fay ran away from Matilda’s home.

Matilda was “white with rage” when she heard the story Fay told the judge and strongly denied it. However she admitted that Fay hadn’t stolen anything from her — she’d found the items in her house and “forgot” to tell the court about it.

Judge Lawlor found no hard evidence of the bordello scheme — it was the word of one woman against the other. However he gave Matilda a “severe censure” for not telling the court she’d been mistaken about Fay stealing from her. She was forced to resign from her job as prison matron.

Fay admitted during one of her many court hearings that she wasn’t actually married to Douglass Bucke.

Judge Lawlor said he “didn’t believe Fay was of the criminal class” and released her on probation into the custody of the Mother Superior of St. Catherine’s Home for wayward girls. She later married Douglass but filed for divorce from him on the grounds of desertion in July 1907.

St. Catherine's home

St. Catherine’s Home in 1925, Online Archive of California

Judge Lawlor was promoted to associate justice of the California Supreme Court in 1915. He held the position until his death in 1926.

Rose Decker continued to have run-ins with the San Francisco Police throughout the first decade of the 20th century. The Hotel Nikko San Francisco now stands where her bordello was located in 1904.

Featured photo: Fay Buck, December 10, 1904, Bureau of Identification, San Francisco Police Department. Collection of the author.

A Chinese Puzzle

A Chinese Puzzle

Tangled skeins of evidence which are being closely investigated by the authorities may result in the unearthing of one of the largest gangs of white slavers in the country with headquarters in New York City and also in other cities, as the result of the arrest of Mrs. Marie Chin Wore of Chenango street, who was taken shortly after midnight by Chief Detective Loren W. Rummer and Detective Larry Abel, police officials declared today.

Press and Sun-Bulletin (Binghamton, New York), February 28, 1920

A young girl was found wandering in the vicinity of New York City’s Bowery neighborhood in February 1920. She was taken to a Christian missionary society where she told authorities a disturbing story about having been forced to become the “child wife” of a much older man.

The missionary who took care of the girl, Mary E. Banta, told the press the girl was born “Frances Michaelson” to Morris and Sadie Michaelson in New York City. According to Banta, the girl was placed in a foundling home in 1908, nine days after her birth. Banta also claimed that a white woman named Marie Chin Wore became the girl’s foster mother 1916. Marie legally adopted her in 1919, changing her name to “Anna Chin Wore.”

Harry Chin Wore

Harry Chin Wore

The same year she adopted Anna, Marie arranged for her to marry David Lee Nong. A California-born man of Chinese ancestry, David owned a restaurant in Binghamton, New York. According to the 1920 federal census, after the marriage Marie, age 32, and her Chinese husband, Harry Chin Wore, age 44, lived with Anna and David. Marie worked as a waitress in David’s restaurant and Harry ran a nearby laundry. Anna, age 16, was listed on the census as Marie and Harry’s biological daughter (possibly this was an error). Marie’s birthplace was listed as “Greece” and Anna’s as “New York.” Marie’s native language was recorded as “Greek.”

Less than two months after the marriage Anna stole enough money from David to escape and return to New York City.

The missionary, Mary Banta, took Anna back to Binghamton. Her stepmother, Marie, was arrested and charged with child abduction.

Anna Chin Wore marriage portrait_marked

Anna had on a dress that was much too large for her in her wedding photo. News photo, collection of the author.

Marie and her lawyer

Marie and her lawyer in court

Marie testified in court to being an opium addict. She said she was in the clutches of a gang of Chinese criminals who dealt opium and smuggled Chinese men and drugs across the border from Canada into the United States. She claimed that David Lee Nong was part of the gang and that there was an opium den in the basement of his restaurant.

Rumors of “white slavery” swirled around the case. News stories proclaimed that Marie went by multiple aliases and had been imprisoned several times in the penitentiary on Blackwell’s Island in New York City. The press offered no proof of these claims.

Marie showed no signs of being addicted to opium or any other drug. Opium wasn’t found in the basement of David’s restaurant or anywhere on the premises, nor was the gang of criminals she described located. She appeared to be nervous but unrepentant and angry in court. At times she shook her head and sneered at her adopted daughter when Anna testified.

Anna told the court she was unsure of her age but she’d been told she was between 11 and 13 years old. She said that Marie “told me that my mother was a dirty Jew and had thrown me into an ash can, where a policeman had found me.” She recalled living in the foundling home in New York City and attending school in Manhattan before Marie removed her from the institution.

Nong restaurant

David Lee Nong’s restaurant

David, who was arrested as a material witness but wasn’t charged with a crime, testified that it was the custom in China for children to marry very young, however he claimed he hadn’t known that Anna was only 11 when he married her. He paid about $700 ($10,214 in 2018 dollars) to Marie and Harry. He claimed the money was to help them move to Binghamton and to set Harry up in a laundry business.

United States immigration laws passed in the late nineteenth century resulted in there being few Asian women in America for Asian men to marry. Mixed marriages, while not outlawed in New York, were frowned upon. The marriage age in New York, with parental consent, was 14 at the  time. The minimum age was only recently changed to 17.

Marie and David applied for and received a license for his marriage to Anna on November 20, 1919. When they tried to get a judge to perform the ceremony, he refused because he thought Anna looked too young. Next they went to a local Baptist minister who agreed to perform the marriage after Marie lied to him, telling him that Anna was 16 and the marriage was out of necessity because she was pregnant.

Anna testified that a few weeks after the marriage, Marie took her to a hotel in Worcester, Massachusetts, and forced her to commit “a statutory offense” with a Chinese man she’d never met before.

There was no evidence that Harry Chin Wore was directly involved in the marriage scheme, but he was found to be in the country illegally under the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act. He was ordered deported to back China. Marie was offered a suspended sentence as long as she agreed to be deported to China with her husband. The couple was taken by the Binghamton Sheriff, in June 1920, to San Francisco and put on a steamship bound for China.

As she waited to sail, Marie gave an intriguing interview to a reporter for the Binghamton Press and Sun-Bulletin.

I was born in China and I speak Chinese even better than English, although my parents were Americans. In fact, I came to America to be educated and was graduated from the University of Maine, later graduating as a trained nurse at the Portland, Maine general hospital. We were married in Canton, China, and I have no wish to terminate that marriage by taking advantage of the fact that my husband is debarred from the United States. I can be of great service to humanity in the Far East both by sympathy and education and even feel more at home there than in the land that was formerly mine only by parental tie.

Anna was sent to New York City, with the missionary, Mary Banta, as her guardian. The plan was for her to attend school under the care of the missionary society. Mary sued in the New York Supreme Court to have Anna’s marriage annulled.

David lost his restaurant due to the unsavory publicity about the case. In February 1922 he pleaded not guilty to a charge of gambling at a Binghamton cafe. He died, age 42, of liver cancer on July 10, 1922 at the Binghamton City Hospital.

Questions about Anna’s parentage went unanswered at Marie’s trial. If what Mary Banta said was true and Morris Michaelson was her father, he was almost certainly Jewish, so her mother must have been Asian. That would have been an unusual pairing for the time, though not impossible. Several young men named Morris Michaelson, all of them white, lived in New York City, according to the 1910 census, but none of them had a wife named Sadie or a wife who was Asian. Possibly Michaelson’s wife died shortly after the child’s birth, which could explain why the baby was placed in an institution.

The New York Extracted Birth Index lists a Frances Michaelson who was born on March 19, 1908 (the exact birthdate Mary Banta claimed was Anna’s) and there’s an Anna Michaelson, born in 1908, who was a resident of the New York Foundling Hospital and Children’s Aid Society until 1915. But there’s no way to definitively link either of those girls with Anna Chin Wore.

Could Anna have been, as one newspaper suggested, the biological daughter of Marie and a Chinese man who wasn’t her husband? Could that be why the baby was placed in an orphanage and why Marie lied about her relationship to Anna after she got the child back? Was Marie trying to hide the fact that she’d had an illegitimate child?

This case is full of perplexing clues but short on verifiable evidence. We’ll likely never know if Marie had good intentions when she arranged a marriage for Anna or if she sold her to the highest bidder.

Featured photos: March 1920 news photos of Marie Chin Wore (left) and Anna Chin Wore. Collection of the author.

Moll Buzzing

Moll Buzzing

A lady slipped on the pavement in a street in Philadelphia and was aided to arise by a very polite gentleman. She thanked him kindly and was struck by his handsome eyes, which haunted her until she missed her pocket-book and discovered through the police that a noted pickpocket known as “Baltimore Pat” was their owner, and that his attentions were part of his daily duty of “buzzing.”

The Wilmington Daily Herald (Wilmington, North Carolina), January 31, 1860

Imagine her embarrassment, not to mention discomfort, when she lost her footing and fell to the ground on a busy city street. Like every well-off woman in 1860, she wore a tight corset and an unwieldy hoop skirt. How did she get up without entirely losing her dignity?

Godey-april-1861

1861 day dresses, Godey’s Lady’s Book

Her tears were on the verge of overflowing when a young man came to her rescue. He leaned down and offered her his arm. She gratefully accepted and he easily pulled her to her feet. He smiled at her and asked if she was all right. With a blush she answered that she was fine. He nodded his hat, wished her a good day and vanished into the crowded street. She brushed off her skirts, reinstated her dignity and continued to her destination.

She arrived at the shop and selected an item to purchase but she couldn’t find her purse anywhere. Embarrassed, she left and went to the police station where she reported that her purse had been stolen. The police told her that she’d been “moll-buzzed” and showed her some photos in their rogues’ gallery. Suddenly it dawned on her why the striking-looking man had been so helpful. She pointed to a photo labeled “John William, alias Baltimore Pat.”

Pickpockets who specialized in preying on women were called “moll-buzzers.” Baltimore Pat’s good looks no doubt helped him professionally. Numerous articles describing his thievery and arrests appeared in newspapers between 1857 and 1862.

John Williams aka Baltimore Pat arrested as pickpocket - Newspap

— The Daily Exchange, Baltimore, Maryland, April 4, 1860

If a female victim was not available he was willing to prey on men. One Saturday night in 1862 he picked the pocket of a Baltimore merchant, B. J. Sutton, to the tune of $1,240 ($30,956 in 2018).

The arrests didn’t slow him down. He worked on trains and streetcars — a pickpocket’s paradise — where people were crowded together affording plentiful opportunity for stealthy theft. Allan Pinkerton warned about moll-buzzers in his 1884 book Thirty Years a Detective.

The scene is an ordinary street car, and the seats are all occupied. The thief enters and at once takes up his position immediately in front of the lady, with one hand he grasps the strap hanging from the roof, and the other hand is seemingly thrust into his coat pocket. I say seemingly, for really the hand of the thief is thrust through his coat, the end of which is resting carelessly on the pocket of the lady. With the hand which is pushed through his coat, the thief quietly pulls up the edge of the overskirt worn by the lady, little by little, so he can reach the pocket…and then catching hold of the pocket-book, he draws it up and into his own pocket and then steps away.

His photograph ended up in a police rogues’ gallery, likely in Baltimore or Philadelphia. Whether it helped end his career as a pickpocket is a matter of conjecture.

Featured photo: “John William, al Baltimore Pat, Pick pocket” from Rogues, A Study of Characters by Samuel G. Szabó. Collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

 

The Hungry Wife

The Hungry Wife

Hollywood, Cal., police watching Mrs. Eleanor Hansen, 42, devour a ham and egg breakfast at the police station following her arrest Tuesday for the fatal shooting of her husband, Hans Terkel Hansen, 50, movie studio employe (sic), believe her word that she was “desperate with hunger.”

Des Moines Tribune (Des Moines, Iowa), October 3, 1934

Forty-two-year old Eleanor Hansen looks like she shared a joke with the photographer while he took her mugshot at the California Institution for Women in Tehachapi. Her body language also conveys a cocky “hey bud, let’s get this over with” attitude. Based on the crime she’d committed three months earlier, Eleanor had an impatient streak.

Eleanor went to see her ex-husband, Hans, at his Los Angeles rooming house in early October 1934 because he was behind in his $10 monthly support payment ($191 in 2018). She told him she and their 13-year-old daughter, Barbara, hadn’t eaten in several days. Hans responded with a remark that Eleanor took as an insult, so she shot him twice, killing him instantly.

Eleanor Hansen shoots husband. Photos and details. - Newspapers.

She fled the scene and headed to Barbara’s junior high school where the police arrested her an hour later. She explained that she didn’t go to her ex-husband’s lodgings intending to shoot him, but she simply needed money because she and Barbara were sick from hunger. But his insult was the final straw that tipped her over the edge.

“I killed him because he had it coming. He owed me $400 alimony. I had no money. I went to see him to get money for food, not to kill him,” she told police.

Eleanor Hansen shoots husband. Photos. - Newspapers.comWhen Hans insulted Eleanor he disregarded the old adage “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Not to mention that hunger is high on the pyramid of needs and when it takes over the brain, irrational thoughts and crazy actions can result.

Taking no chances, the police took Eleanor to a restaurant and made sure she got fed before they interrogated her.

His landlady, Ella Horton, said Hans was living on bread he got from the county and had given Eleanor his last 15 cents a few days earlier. She also claimed he’d just recently gotten a job as a film studio carpenter but he hadn’t been paid yet and owed her money too. It was all right, though. I was glad to help him,” she said.

Could jealousy have played a role in Hans’s murder?

Eleanor Hansen goes to prison. Next to article about Gloria VandThe son of Danish immigrants, Hans was born in Nebraska and worked on his family’s farm as a young man. According to news reports he’d worked as an astrologer and had several film star clients. He’d also been employed an instructor at the Hollywood School of Astrology and had several other careers along the way. He was married and divorced prior to his marriage to Eleanor and he lost custody of his son from the previous marriage to his ex-wife’s new husband, so father of the year he was not.

Eleanor must have been convinced that Hans had some money squirreled away or something worth pawning, because she took a gun with her when she confronted him at his rooming house. Of course it’s possible she planned to kill him and the late alimony payment was just a cover, however she was convicted of second-degree murder, which argues against planning.

Sentenced to five years to life,“I still think I got a rotten deal,” Eleanor commented before she went to prison. Apparently death seemed to her to be a less rotten deal than imprisonment. Looking prosperous, Eleanor cast a glance over her shoulder on her way to Tehachapi and a news photographer captured the moment.

By 1940 Eleanor was an inmate in the Stockton State Hospital for the Insane. Barbara spent her teen years in foster care, but mother and daughter were reunited at some point because she and her children were mentioned in Eleanor’s obituary. Eleanor spent her later years in Auburn, California, where she died at the age of 71 on April 6, 1964.

Featured photo: Eleanor M. Hansen, prison mugshot. Collection of the California State Archives in Sacramento.

Thanks to Kate Griffiths for suggesting this story for Captured and Exposed. If you haven’t read Kate’s blog, Photobooth Journal, check it out!

The Rogue Cop, The Skunk Farmer & The Candy Kid

The Rogue Cop, The Skunk Farmer & The Candy Kid

Yesterday the governor made requisition on the Utah authorities for the extradition of Harry Morgan and Jane Doe, alias “The Candy Kid,” whose true name is unknown. They are charged by Anton Fritz of Portland with larceny from the person. Fritz claims he was robbed about 12 o’clock on the night of Saturday, August 28th, last, of $9,400 near the white temple in Portland. His statement has since been denied but Joe Day now claims he has the guilty parties under arrest at Salt Lake City and will bring them back to Oregon for trial. He claims to have located $4,500 of the stolen money in a safe deposit vault in Chicago.

Statesman Journal (Salem, Oregon), October 3, 1906

She was huddled in the shadows of the covered entryway to the First Baptist Church (The White Temple) in downtown Portland, Oregon, crying loud enough to attract his attention. Anton Fritz went up the church steps and asked her what was wrong. She told him her husband had run off with all their worldly goods, leaving her and their baby with nothing. She said she was going to kill herself. Her tale tugged at his heartstrings, so he gave her a few dollars. Overwhelmed by his generosity she gave him a hug. They parted and he continued on his way, not realizing that his pocket had been picked until he arrived at his lodgings. This was one reported version of how Anton was robbed.

White Temple Baptist Church Portland, OR

White Temple Baptist Church Portland, OR

Another, more unsavory, story was that Anton was drunk and the woman picked him up and took him to a “secluded spot” where she robbed him.

The third account was that Anton offered to get her a room for the night at the hotel where he was lodging. She gratefully accepted and the next morning he discovered his money was gone.

The woman robber was dubbed “The Candy Kid,” and along with Harry Morgan — the man described as her partner in the caper — she was said to have fled Portland with $9,400 (over $260,000 in 2018) of Anton’s money.

Anton Fritz

Born in Germany in 1848, Anton Fritz and his wife, Johanna, arrived in the United States in 1881. They settled in Smithton, Pennsylvania, where Anton made his living as a butcher. One day he discovered skunks feeding on the offal near his slaughterhouse. Skunk fur was a hot commodity at the time and he seized on this as a fresh business opportunity. He began to raise skunks and sell their pelts. Anton had 700 skunks at one point and was known locally as “The Skunk Farmer.”

Soon he had enough capital to get into a less odoriferous profession. He moved his wife and six children to Monessen, Pennsylvania, where he invested in real estate, eventually owning three hotels, including one he named “Hotel Fritz.”

Johanna had a stroke and died in 1904, the same year Anton built an opera house in Monessen. The project was a money sink. The opera house and Anton’s other real estate holdings overextended his finances. He was forced to borrow large sums of money and was unable to repay his creditors.

Anton skipped town, taking with him about $18,000 (almost half a million dollars in 2018) in cash. The creditors tried to locate him but were told that he’d returned to his homeland. Deciding it was futile to try to find him in a foreign country, they eventually gave up the chase.

Anton had not left America. He’d headed west to Portland, where he had a younger brother, Fred Fritz, who owned a large saloon on Burnside Street. Anton didn’t trust banks and carried all his cash with him in a leather wallet he kept inside his jacket. He had a bad habit of flashing his cash around at the saloon and this may be what led to the robbery.

Rather than go to the police, who might alert his creditors to the fact that he was still in the country, Anton hired a private eye named Joe Day to try to track down the thieves on the Q.T. The timing was perfect for Joe, who’d just been fired from the Portland Police Department and was in need of a new income stream.

Born in New Orleans in 1851, Joseph Day traveled to the west coast with his family while he was still a babe in arms. He became a Portland cop in 1881 and rose to the rank of detective. He loved being a detective (he named his son William Pinkerton Day) but he had an independent streak that infuriated his superiors. Things came to a head when the chief of police complained to the mayor and police board that Joe and several other detectives were undisciplined, rogue officers who cursed constantly, never informed him of their activities and tolerated criminal activity in Portland. The mayor dismissed him and five other detectives in August 1906, saying that they hadn’t earned their salaries and had to go.

Joe Day detective profile - Newspapers.com

Detective Joe Day

Anton also had a problem with Joe — the detective couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He told the newspapers that Anton’s cash had drawn the attention of two regulars at the Fritz saloon, “The Candy Kid” and her partner, Harry Morgan. He described the pair as “colored criminals” with records in other states and also claimed that Harry was also a “stool pigeon” for the Portland police.

Evenutally the press figured out that the real name of “The Candy Kid” was Leora Worlds. She was also known as Clara, Alice or Laura Adams and Clara Morgan.

Joe put out the word that “The Candy Kid” and Harry had headed east to Chicago, spending lavishly as they traveled. It was rumored that she hired a couple of men in Chicago to kill Harry, but that one of them lost his nerve and instead blabbed to Joe about the plan.

In Salt Lake City, Utah, the police wired Joe that they had arrested the couple. Joe and Fred Fritz went to the Salt Lake City jail but extradition papers mysteriously never arrived from Oregon. A few days later the pair were discharged for lack of evidence.

What happened to the money is a matter of speculation. It was reported that Joe took a bribe of $2000 to get Anton to drop the matter, with Leora and Harry receiving $4500 and whatever cash remained being returned to Anton. The police chief in Salt Lake City went on record that no bribes had been offered under his watch.

However by the time Leora and Harry were released from custody, Anton had completely changed his story. He claimed that his saloon-owner brother, Fred, robbed him with the assistance of Joe and other people he refused to name. He said the tale of Leora and Harry robbing him was a “bluff.”

It was true that Fred Fritz had need for cash. He had a gambling problem that had cost him over $1000 in fines by 1905. He was also fined repeatedly for serving liquor at the vaudeville theater he owned next door to the saloon.

Two months later Anton laid down on the railroad tracks in front of an oncoming train in San Fernando, California. The train decapitated him and his head was discovered not far from the tracks. His death was thought to be suicide, though no note was found. A small sum of money, a check and some jewelry were found with his body. His attorney noted that prior to his death Anton was “mentally unbalanced.”

Joe was eventually rehired by the Portland Police Department. He was later reduced to the uniformed ranks but he stayed on and ended his career as a policeman in 1926. He died ten years later in Portland.

Leora was arrested for vagrancy in Portland in 1910. She told the arresting officers she had done no “job.” The news article about her arrest referred to her as “The Candy Kid” and erroneously described her as “one of the star female criminals of the Pacific coast.”

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The reason Leora was called “The Candy Kid” remains a mystery to this day. My guess is that Detective Joe Day gave her the nickname. Written on the back of a news copy of her mugshot photo is the notation “DAY,” but precisely why he called her that I can’t say.

Though no one was ever charged with the robbery of Anton Fritz, the rumor that Leora did it continued for at least 30 years.

Thanks to Stacy Waldman of House of Mirth Photos for allowing me to use the photograph of Leora Worlds.

Featured photo: Leora Worlds (Clara Morgan), undated news copy of mugshot; collection of Stacy Waldman