1911

A TALE OF TWO MURDERERS

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

Murder was almost unheard of in early 20th century Santa Rosa and West County, but in the late summer of 1910 there were two that happened within weeks. And because both killers were Japanese men, the coverage of the deeds in the Santa Rosa newspapers give us a snapshot of media attitudes on race.

Events began with the July murder of Enoch Kendall, his wife and adult son at the Lion’s Head Ranch near Cazadero. Their bodies had been dismembered and parts burned in the cookstove, with their remains of charred bones and ashes piled in the yard. The body of Mrs. Kendall, sans head and both legs, was found in the woods. The Press Democrat’s headline proclaimed it the “Most Atrocious Crime in History of Sonoma County.”

(RIGHT: Kendalls and Yamaguchi, illustration from the Oakland Tribune, August 5, 1910

Suspicion immediately fell on Henry Yamaguchi, a young Japanese laborer who knew the owner of the ranch. The Kendalls were leasing the property from Mrs. Margaret Starbuck of Oakland, who had been trying to evict them for some time; she had filed four lawsuits against the family in Sonoma County, accusing them of stealing and selling some of her cattle. Yamaguchi, who had previously performed a few odd jobs for Mrs. Starbuck at the ranch and at her Oakland home, now worked at the Cazadero Hotel and volunteered to keep an eye on the Kendalls for her.

When the bodies were found the police contacted Mrs. Starbuck. She told them that Yamaguchi had appeared at her Oakland residence unexpectedly around the day of the murders. He appeared to have been beaten up and  told her that the younger Kendall had shot at him. He had fought “all three of them,” according to Mrs. Starbuck, and he told her, “I do ’em all up; I put ’em away. They no bother you no more.” She was alarmed by his remarks, but as the murders had not yet been discovered, Yamaguchi was allowed to leave.

But once the crime was revealed, Yamaguchi could not be found. The local Japanese association immediately called a meeting in Santa Rosa and vowed to help search for him statewide, even raising money for a reward.

At the inquest Mrs. Starbuck told a more incriminating story, with Yamaguchi yelling, “I shot him! I shot him! I shot him!” before saying, “I kill myself; I must kill myself.” The coroner’s jury charged Yamaguchi with murder.

Exactly a month after Yamaguchi’s indictment, the second killing happened in Sebastopol. During the performance of a Japanese play by a touring company in Lincoln Hall (McKinley Street, near the movie theater) Y. Yasuda shot another a man twice from the back. He was immediately arrested, as was another Japanese man who took money from the dead man’s pockets. Yasuda says he acted in self defense and was held over for trial.

Meanwhile, the Sonoma County Grand Jury was investigating the Kendall murder case. Testimony was raising questions about the truthfulness of Mrs. Starbuck. At the earlier inquest she had already contradicted her original story that Yamaguchi appeared to have been beaten; she told the coroner he did not appear to have any injuries aside from a possible bruise on a cheek. It also came out at the inquest that she was the only person who heard Yamaguchi’s confession. Mr. Starbuck testified he came home later and found his wife quite agitated and Yamaguichi sobbing that he would kill himself. The husband said he considered the story “too preposterous” to believe and “if Yamaguichi had fought all three of the Kendalls he could not have hurt them much.” As Yamaguichi was just five feet three and weighed 120 pounds, the crime would have been quite the job for him, what with all the butchery required.

Witnesses told the Grand Jury she remained determine to evict the Kendalls despite losing the four lawsuits against them. She instructed a man named Cox to find her a new tenant. Cox asked how she would get the Kendalls to leave, she allegedly told him, “there are more ways than one to get them off.” She also tried to sell the ranch, which she had denied in earlier testimony:


W. B. Quigley flatly contradicted Mrs. Starbuck regarding the proposed sale or transfer of the ranch to Japanese for colonization or other purposes. He testified that he had about completed negotiations for the sale of the ranch when a hitch occurred and the deal was declared off. Mrs. Starbuck later denied any such deal as that first above mentioned, had ever been contemplated.

While none of this incriminated Mrs. Starbuck in an actual crime, it certainly called into question her other testimony. At the end of the story the Press Democrat commented, “It is declared by those who know that there was sufficient shifting of both the testimony of Mrs. Starbuck and her husband to have considerable effect if the case ever comes to trial. There are those who believe she is still keeping secret more than she is telling in the case.”

Yamaguchi was indicted by the Grand Jury, despite the only thread of evidence against him being an alleged confession to a woman who apparently had a deep and irrational hatred for the Kendalls. Let me repeat that: A man was indicted for murder only on the word of a person who wanted the victims out of her hair. Such an outrageous abuse of justice makes it impossible to imagine racism was not a major factor in the Grand Jury’s indictment.

But the topic here is media racism: Did the 1910 and 1911 newspapers report this story – and the one about the Sebastopol murder – with prejudice? The answer is mixed.

Cheer that the racial slur “little brown men” didn’t once appear in either paper, although both used it the year before in almost every story about local Japanese. In 1910, “Jap” and “Nipponese” were as nasty as the name-calling got. Not that there wasn’t racist news reported that year; there was also a lecture on Japanese exclusion in Santa Rosa, ending with a resolution calling for boycotts against Japanese labor and businesses as well as anyone else who engaged with anyone Japanese.

The downside was that the papers made the two Japanese men into cardboard villains. Readers learned nothing about Yamaguchi, although the police description mentioned he was a member of a Methodist Church in Oakland and “was well known in Fruitvale.” The Press Democrat ran at least a dozen stories on the Kendall murders, several with front page headlines; couldn’t they have spared a reporter for an afternoon to interview people who knew him best? For the Yasuda shooting, we never learned about a motive, aside from hints such as, “the trouble that led to the shooting grew out of some gambling deals.”

There was no interest in reporting on the trial proceedings of a Japanese-upon-Japanese crime, so coverage of the Sebastopol killing instead relentlessly focused on any white people involved in the story, particularly Frank Harrington, the ticket taker at Lincoln Hall and only non-Japanese person in attendance.  Harrington disarmed Yasuda after the incident; according to the Santa Rosa Republican, it was an act of heroism straight from a dime novel:


Mr. Harrison the doorkeeper of the theater, showed remarkable coolness and presence of mind in the turbulent scenes which followed. As the Jap with the smoking pistol came toward him at the door he struck the man in the face, grasped the pistol from him and held him there until he was taken into custody. Had the Japanese escaped from the theater and mingled in the crowd, it would have given the officers difficulty to apprehend him.

Note the soft racism that officers would not be able to identify Yasuda if he was in a crowd of other Japanese. (Note also that the Republican was too busy turning the incident into a ripping yarn to spell the Harrington’s name correctly.) When the trial was held coverage in both papers was perfunctory, the main point of interest being that the Japanese translator was a white man. “The way he handled the questions and answers was a revelation to those in the courts who had rarely heard a Caucasian speak the language.”

Both stories had unsatisfying endings.

Yasuda was found not guilty by the jury, which must have come as a shock to Santa Rosans, as there had been no mention of evidence showing he could have acted in self defense.

Yamaguchi’s picture appeared prominently in newspapers in Santa Rosa and San Francisco and elsewhere, and a $1,000 reward was offered – half from the Governor and half from William Randolph Hearst’s Examiner. Despite false sightings in Oakland, Vacaville and a train bound for Mexico, he was never found.

Mrs. Starbuck and her husband divorced not long after the Kendall murders. History has come to judge her harshly; mentions of the incident found on the Internet today claim she was “implicated” in the crime, and sometimes it’s claimed that she sent Yamaguchi to the Kendalls with orders to “give ’em hell.” Neither were true.

Probably.

WOULD EXCLUDE THE JAPANESE

At the meeting held in Trembley hall on Sunday night at which an address was delivered on Japanese exclusion, the following resolutions were adopted:

“Whereas, The petitions of the people of California and other Pacific Coast states demanding relief from Japanese and other Asiatic immigration are unheeded and ignored by Congress, and

“Whereas, the situation is growing more grave and inimical to the welfare of the white race, be it

Resolved, That a boycott be instituted against Japanese and other Asiatics.

1. A boycott against all articles grown or manufactured by Japanese

2. A boycott against all Japanese engaged in business of any kind

3. A boycott against all white persons engaged in business, manufacture or agriculture who employ or patronize Japanese

4. A political boycott irrespective of party against all candidates  who employ or patronize Japanese, or who hold stock in any corporation employing Japanese, or who are not avowedly and openly opposed to further Japanese immigration.

“It is further resolved to enforce and encourage said boycott by every legitimate and legal means to the end that coolie or servile labor may no longer menace the free institutions of this republic.

– Press Democrat, February 8, 1910
MURDER DONE AS PLAY PROCEEDS
Japanese Slain by Fellow Countryman in Lincoln Hall at Sebastopol Sunday Night

From comedy to tragedy the scene was quickly changed in Lincoln hall at Sebastopol on Sunday night. Mimicry suddenly gave way to realism and real murder was done before the eyes of 250 persons, who, at the time were in the hall witnessing a production by a Japanese theatrical company, the play was one of the features of entertainment the Japanese had arranged. The actors were before the footlights and the Nipponese were applauding their offerings of mirth when all of a sudden and without warning, a pistol shot rang out, followed in quick succession by others. Instantly there was wild confusion, and a babel  of tongues. Chairs were upset and men and women scrambled to nearby cover. As described by Frank Harrington, who chanced to be the only spectator at the play and the subsequent slaying, it was certainly a time of terror for the Japanese. When the smoke cleared away Hisayama lay dead upon the floor, shot through the heart and chest. His assailant, Yasuda, still held the smoking weapon threateningly.

Harrington’s Nerve

Harrington took in the situation in an instant. He rushed to the side of the slayer and grabbed the hand that held the gun. A struggle ensued but Harrington wrenched the revolver from Yasuda and turned the weapon upon him, subduing any further onslaught upon anyone, and then kept the crowd at bay while he placed the murderer under arrest.

City Marshall Fisher Arrives

Yasuda was jailed by City Marshal Fisher and a message telling of the killing was sent to District Attorney Clarence Lea. That official jumped from his bed, rang up Court Reporter Harry Scott, and in a very short time they were starting for Sebastopol in an automobile, stopping to pick up Deputy Sheriff Donald McIntosh. At Sebastopol the District Attorney took a number of statements and Deputy Sheriff McIntosh took another Jap into custody on suspicion that he might have taken some coin from Hisayama’s pocket after the latter had been killed. The officials returned to this city at an early hour on Monday morning. District Attorney Lea, Sheriff Smith and Court Reporter Scott returned again to Sebastopol later in the morning and secured additional details. Coroner Blackburn was also notified.

Said to Be Gambler

The dead Japanese is said to have been a gambler and that the trouble that led to the shooting grew out of some gambling deals. Yasuda says he acted in self defense.

Coroner Blackburn will hold an inquest at Sebastopol this evening at seven o’clock.

– Press Democrat, September 27, 1910

JAP MURDERED AT SEBASTOPOL
Gambling Quarrel Between Japs Result in Death

Hisayame, A Santa Rosa Japanese, was murdered in the Japanese theater at Sebastopol Sunday evening by Y. Yasede, a Japanese from Asti. The murder was committed about 11 o’clock and was the result of an old gambling quarrel the two had had. The murderer was caught immediately after taking the life of his countryman. Frank Harrington, the ticket taker at the Japanese theater, apprehending him. Yasede was held in the city jail at Sebastopol over Sunday night.

Coroner Frank L. Blackburn came over from Monte Rio Monday morning…

…The murdered man was shot twice from the rear, and either of the wounds wound have been sufficient to have produced death. One of the bullets entered the man’s back near the spinal column and came out near the nipple of the left breast, evidently having passed through the heart. The other shot entered back of the right ear and came out at the right side of the man’s nose. He dropped in his tracks and expired instantly.

Mr. Harrison the doorkeeper of the theater, showed remarkable coolness and presence of mind in the turbulent scenes which followed. As the Jap with the smoking pistol came toward him at the door he struck the man in the face, grasped the pistol from him and held him there until he was taken into custody. Had the Japanese escaped from the theater and mingled in the crowd, it would have given the officers difficulty to apprehend him.

Coroner Frank L. Blackburn was over at Sebastopol Monday and looking over the matter…

 – Santa Rosa Republican, September 27, 1910
JAPANESE IS HELD FOR THE MURDER OF COUNTRYMAN

The Coroner’s jury at Sebastopol last night formally charged Y. Yasuda with the murder of Y. Hisayama in Lincoln hall in that town last Sunday night during the performance of a Japanese play. He is in jail here to await the holding of the preliminary examination.

Several witnesses were called at the inquest held by Coroner Frank L. Blackburn…The testimony was sufficient to warrant the formal charge of murder in the minds of the jurymen, and they did not hesitate in returning a verdict.

Medical evidence given showed that Hisayama’s death must have been instantaneous. One bullet severed the jugular vein and the other passed through the heart. The location of the shots indicated the deadly and murderous aim of the accused.

One of the principal witnesses was Frank Harrington, the only white man present at the Japanese play at which the murder was committed and whose evidence is very material. Mr. Harrington grabbed the pistol from Yasuda’s hands after the shooting to prevent further trouble.

Another Japanese has been arrested. He was arrested for having removed coin from the dead Japanese’s pockets. He was a close friend of the murdered man, and half of the money he took belonged to him, so he says.

– Press Democrat, September 28, 1910

TESTIMONY IN JAPANESE MURDER TRIAL BEGUN

At the trial of Y. Yasuda before Judge Emmet Seawell on Wednesday afternoon, F. W. Harrington and J. F. Ames were the witnesses examined. Yasuda is charged with the murder of O. Hisayama in Sebastopol.

Harrington is the man who wrested the revolver from Yasuda after he had killed Hisayama, and as he was trying to escape from Lincoln hall, where the murder was committed during the presentation of a Japanese drama. Harrington told the jury of the events prior to and at the time of the killing so far as they lay in his knowledge. Mr. Ames’ testimony was along similar lines.

At the morning session Thursday Ed F. O’Leary testified to the bullet holes in the clothing of the deceased, and the clothes were introduced in evidence and inspected by the jury.

Dr. J. E. Maddux gave the jury information relative to the course pursued by the bullet that had entered the body of Hisayama.

Fred R. Mathews told the court and jury of the arrest of the defendant, and of his detention awaiting trial.

G. Oka and F. Morseiya, Japanese, were witnesses also. They gave their testimony through an official interpreter.

At the afternoon session of the murder trial, the proceedings were quite brief. Y. Maruyama testified for the defendant, and another witness was recalled for further examination.

Attorney George W. Hoyle made the opening address for the prosecution and was followed by Attorney Thomas J. Butts. The closing argument was made by Attorney Hoyle.

Charles H. Gaffney, official interpreter of the Japanese language in the San Francisco courts, was the interpreter at the trial. The way he handled the questions and answers was a revelation to those in the courts who had rarely heard a Caucasian speak the language.

 – Santa Rosa Republican, March 23, 1911

JURY ACQUITS A JAPANESE QUICKLY
Y. Yasuda, Charged With Murder of O. Hisayama in Sebastopol, is Found Not Guilty

Y. Yasuda, the Japanese charged with the murder of O. Hisayama, in Lincoln Hall, Sebastopol, last fall, during the Oriental theatrical performance, was acquitted Thursday evening by a jury after less than half an Hour’s deliberation.

The taking of testimony was completed shortly after the opening of the afternoon session. Assistant District Attorney G. W. Hoyle, who conducted the prosecution argued the case, reviewing the points of the trial as they had been brought out in the testimony and asked for a conviction.

Attorney T. J. Butts, who represented the defendant, made a strong plea for an acquittal, on the ground of self-defense, after which Hoyle closed the case and it was submitted to the jury. On the first ballot the jury stood 11 to 1 for acquittal, and after a few minutes argument and explanation, the one went over and the next ballot was unanimous for acquittal.

The verdict came as a complete surprise to some, while others who had watched the case expected no other action. Yasuda left the courtroom with his countrymen after he had shook hands and thanked each of the jurors.

– Press Democrat, March 24, 1911

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WHATEVER HAPPENED TO…

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

Here are the 1910-1911 updates on what happened to some of the more interesting characters we’ve met in prior years:

*   TENNESSEE BILL   Of all the drunken hobos who passed through Santa Rosa around the turn of the century, “Tennessee Bill” was clearly the Press Democrat’s favorite. He always announced his arrival in town with a window-rattling yell from the courthouse steps and ended his visit with a night or three in jail, where he would sometimes tear off his clothes and set them on fire, all the better for the city to provide him with a new set of duds.

His real name was Charles Cornelius Tennessee Goforth – apparently he felt the extra syllable in “Tennessee Charlie” was more work than it was worth – and other newspaper editors also thought of him as their pet hobo, so it’s not too hard to track his doings over the years. He boasted of having been in every jail in California and claimed he became a vagabond after his mother died, or maybe it was his wife. He sometimes said he had rich relations and was a nephew of famed statesman and politician Walter Q. Gresham, but although his mother was a Grisham she had to be a relation far many times removed, according to family trees.

In truth, he was born in February, 1840 to a Tennessee farmer, one of at least seven children. He first entered the record books in the federal census a decade later under the name, “Tennessee.” Ten years after then the census-takers found him as a blacksmith in Bodega, which at the time could have been anywhere between modern Sebastopol and the coast. In 1863 he registered for the draft as a farmer in Bloomfield.

Between the ages of about 25 to 50, he appears to have been a solid citizen. He registered to vote in 1867 as a farmer in San Jose and years later, a man in Ukiah claimed to have known him shortly after the Civil War when he was “a well-to-do and highly respected citizen of San Jose…[and] the husband of an estimable young lady,” so maybe there was some truth to the tragic tale he told. Certainly his fortunes turned; we find him next as a laborer in Fresno (1881) and Bakersfield (1890). Apparently sometime along there he was reborn as Tennessee Bill.

The first Tennessee Bill sighting comes from the Sacramento Daily Record Union in 1891, and finds Mr. Goforth already in full flower, infamous for shouting and claiming to have been in every jail. A correspondent from Ventura County wrote:

Tennessee Bill has, I think, seen the inside of nearly every county jail in this State. He has traveled extensively, and as he is a man with a mission–and a very great appetite for whisky–he is pretty well known. Tennessee Bill’s name is William Goforth, and he claims that it is his duty to go forth and shout for Grover Cleveland in every railroad town and village in the State of California. He began his work when Cleveland was merely the Democratic candidate, and hasn’t finished the job yet.

There are still one or two stations at which the constabulary are waiting patiently for him. No sooner does he arrive in town than he ables into the middle of the street and lets out a “Rah! for Cleveland!” that can be heard a mile. Then he goes quietly off with the constable, and “takes his medicine” like a good little boy. Southern California without old “Tennessee Goforth Bill” would be a dreary waste.

For the next twenty years, Tennessee Bill pops up everywhere in California. He’s said to be making his 43rd tour of the state in 1898, the same year he’s in Salinas shouting “Hooray for Admiral Dewey!” to celebrate the Spanish-American War. It was widely reported he died in 1897 and was buried in the Marysville potter’s field; shortly thereafter a reporter almost collapsed in shock to find him sitting in an Oakland jail cell. The 1900 census captured him, like a beetle trapped in ambergris, at age sixty in Cloverdale. His job was listed as a day laborer.

Tennessee Bill’s last recorded visit to Santa Rosa was in 1910, when the PD reported, “He has got somewhat feeble of late. Wednesday he was very quiet during his stay in town.” Still he kept moving: A year later, he was in Ukiah: “Yesterday was bath day for the renowned Charles Cornelius Tennessee Goforth. Tennessee Bill takes a bath every time he has to and after considerable compulsion yesterday was induced to enter the tub and perform the ceremony according to the rules governing such affairs at the Byrnes hotel” (Byrnes was Mendocino County’s sheriff).

He finally died January 31, 1912, and a sort-of obituary appeared in the Woodland newspaper: “…nobody who has ever seen him or heard his foghorn voice will forget him. He died a few days ago in the Santa Cruz hospital at the age of 76 [sic]. The wonder of it all is, that, leading such a vagabond life, he did not die many years ago.”

He was buried as “Chas. C.T. Goforth” in the Evergreen Cemetery, Santa Cruz.

 

*   “RAMMI”   Aside from Tennessee Bill, the only person to earn a nickname from the Press Democrat in this era was Italio Ramacciotti, a traveling salesman better known as “Rammi.” The PD loved to quote his tall tales, and in the 1910 item below it’s reported that he had received his nomination for the office of “Inspector of Lonesome Places.”

“My duties,” he told the paper, “will be to inspect all lonesome places. I shall put up my cards in places where people cannot see them and they will be lonesome, too.”

This was Rammi’s last visit to Santa Rosa; he died in 1911. On this occasion he was here to liquidate the stock of pianos at a music store on B Street.

 

*   JAKE LUPPOLD    You can bet that no one else in the history of Santa Rosa ever had a “15 minutes of fame” experience that outmatched Jake Luppold’s roller coaster ride of 1908. That autumn Luppold, an affable saloon owner who called himself “the mayor of Main street,” announced his automobile was cursed and he was planning to set it on fire. As cars were still somewhat a novelty and out of the price range of most people, it caused a nationwide commotion. People wrote to him begging him to donate it to charity or sell it them, denouncing him as a superstitious fool, and asking for his hand in marriage. It’s a riotous story told here earlier in “Bonfire of the Hoodoos.”

But only a few months afterwards, Luppold announced he was turning “The Senate” over to his longtime employee. “Mr. Luppold has not been in good health for some time past,” reported the Republican paper, and was planning to rest up at Boyes’ Hot Springs and travel. Then shortly before Thanksgiving, it was learned he had ended his retirement and purchased a saloon just outside of Santa Rosa at Gwinn’s Corners. (According to the 1900 county map, it appears Gwinn’s Corners was the modern-day intersection of Old Redwood Highway and Ursuline Road.)

It seemed like gregarious ol’ Jake was back in his harness. In 1910 he threw two “bull’s head dinners” and around five hundred people attended each. This was quite a big deal; these types of banquets were a great deal of work and never open to the public – usually they were held for members of men’s lodges or political parties. He certainly would have engendered great good will among the Santa Rosa citizenry for these swell shindigs.

Then in 1911…nothing. If any mention of Mr. Luppold appeared in either local paper, it was small and easy to overlook. Without giving away too much, we know Luppold again sets up shop in Santa Rosa a couple of years later, giving him a third (fourth?) act in the local drama. But what happened in 1911? Was he away or sick? Even then, there should have been some word of his doings in the social columns. (Update: The full story of Jake Luppold was finally told in “THE MAYOR OF MAIN STREET.”)

SO WHAT’S A BULL’S HEAD DINNER?   A hundred and more years ago, the Santa Rosa papers would regularly announce a group was planning a “bull’s head dinner.” But aside from an occasional mention that barbecue was served, there was never a description of the food. It was never clear:  Was “bull’s head” a little joke that the diners were bullheaded men, or did it mean they were literally eating the head of a cow? It was the latter, as it turns out (but that doesn’t mean the former wasn’t true as well).

This was a traditional Mexican dish known as barbacoa de cabeza – be forewarned that if you Google for “barbacoa de cabeza” you’ll encounter some images not for the squeamish – which requires wrapping the entire head in something and baking it over low heat. It’s still popular on Tex-Mex menus, but the modern method of cooking differs greatly from the traditional way it was prepared here a hundred years ago.

Today the objective is to mainly cook in place the fist-sized hunks of meat from the cheeks from a completely cleaned head: horns, eyeballs, brains, skin, tongue, ears and lips are usually removed by the butcher. The head is wrapped in banana leaves or softened cactus, even simple aluminum foil before it is baked in a regular kitchen oven or over coals in an outdoor barbacoa y horno (brick and clay oven).

The traditional version was a fiesta dish from the days of the Californios that involved baking the head in a pit barbecue lined with maguey (century plant) leaves. Little, if anything, was removed from the head aside from the horns – even the skin, complete with hair, was left on. The heads were packed in clay before being placed on the coals and buried for up to 24 hours. The skin would have been pulled off with the clay before serving.

Our modern barbacoa is more Tex than Mex; beef cheek is a lean gourmet meat, similar to brisket. The rest of the edible parts of a cow’s head, however, is cartilage and offal, and norteamericanos don’t particularly like eating organ meat or textures that might seem “gristly” or “greasy.” The old method of cooking would have left a large variety of lean and fatty bits and the result was said to be extremely flavorful. A miner during the Gold Rush described it as ” …the finest thing that mortal [sic] ever put between his teeth…its sweetness can only be dimly guessed at by people who have never eaten it.”

 

*   HORACE ROBINSON  One of the great con men to visit Santa Rosa in the early 20th century was Horace Greeley Robinson, who claimed to be a representative of the Marconi Wireless Telegraph Company and spent four days here in 1908, lecturing to packed audiences about the futuristic world where telegraph messages soon would zip through the air, sans wires. He sold shares in company stock to several locals at $20 a pop. One did a little followup sleuthing and found the stock was phony. He managed to have Robinson arrested and had his money returned; few, if any of the other investors suckers were as lucky. Robinson was found to have stolen the equivalent of a half a billion dollars today from people on three continents.

The Press Democrat ran a 1910 update (transcribed below) that recapped the story with the added detail that despite his lengthy list of pending charges, New York police in 1909 had released him from custody (!) and he promptly disappeared, not to be recaptured for almost a year. That was certainly newsworthy, but the PD overlooked the far bigger story – that federal prosecutors had figured out that Robinson was just a salesman and frontman for the infamous Munroe brothers.

Five years earlier, George and Alexander Munroe had been caught running a “stock washing” scheme. They had made an arrangement with a junior officer at a bank so they could borrow $60,000 in the morning and return the $60k to the bank before closing, with no one the wiser. They used that interest-free money to create a complicated scam where they ultimately bought millions of shares of a particular mining stock at a steep discount, then sold it “on the curb” (meaning literally on the street in front of the stock brokerage) at two or three times their purchase price. The brothers were living like Gilded Age tycoons when the bubble collapsed on them in 1904, forcing their company, Munroe & Munroe, into bankruptcy.

Widespread newspaper coverage of their doings followed. The illustration at right was part of a 1905 wire service story that appeared in many mid-sized papers, and mentioned they had a side business peddling stock in the Marconi Wireless Telegraphy company. No one apparently realized at the time that this was another scam.

With Robinson as their loquacious traveling lecturer and nominal partner, the Munroe brothers made another fortune selling phony Marconi stock. But this time, regulators were somewhat paying attention and they found themselves under investigation for mail fraud in 1907. The brothers fled to their homeland of Canada; Munroe & Munroe suddenly closed and was immediately replaced at the same 80 Wall St. address by Robinson & Robinson (the other Robinson was Horace’s dad, Louis, later arrested on the lesser charge of aiding and abetting grand larceny).

The most culpable brother, George, was arrested and brought to trial in the U.S. in 1911. He was found guilty and sentenced to three years in prison, but not for cheating people out of hundreds of thousands of dollars in the Marconi stock scam. He was convicted on charges that he and his brother, now going under the name of Hill, were selling stock in New York for the “United Shoe Shining Company” – they were actually convincing people to give them money because they promised they would soon have a monopoly on shoeshine stands. Their business would succeed, they told investors, because each stand would have a “manicure girl” available.

 

*   S. T. DAKEN  There was considerable buzz in 1909 when a landscape painter announced plans to build an art school in Santa Rosa; the proposed building was even featured in the “Illustrated Portfolio of Santa Rosa and Vicinity,” a book put together by the Chamber of Commerce and the Press Democrat to promote the town. Alas, nothing came of it, but the papers didn’t seem to hold a grudge against Samuel Tilden Daken for having big dreams. Three articles about his paintings appeared in 1910 and 1911, but these were his last years in Santa Rosa; by 1912 he was living in Sacramento apparently living in San Francisco and had an exhibit space in a Sacramento office building.

 

“TENNESSEE BILL” FAR FROM DEAD, HE SAYS

“Why Bill, everybody thought you were dead and buried long ago.”

The Bill addressed was none other than William Cornelius Tennessee Goforth, known to all the peace officers and thousands of people by the familiar name of “Tennessee Bill.” He never fails to get a writeup in all the towns through which he passes, and is about as notorious in his meanderings and experiences as the notorious tramp “A No.-1.” On and off Bill has been coming to Santa Rosa for a score of years. He has seen the inside of both the city and county jails. He formerly introduced himself to the town by emitting some heart rending shrieks, especially when he had previously intercepted Mr. John Barleycorn. He has got somewhat feeble of late. Wednesday he was very quiet during his stay in town, and left on the evening train for Ukiah, at least he said he was going there.

– Press Democrat, June 2, 1910
“RAMMI” BOUND TO RUN FOR SOMETHING

ttalio Francesco Ramacciotti, the well known piano man, who is closing out the Baldwin piano stock in this city, is a great politician and feels that he must be up and doing something for his country. Yesterday he says he received his nomination for the office of “Inspector of Lonesome Places.” Directly upon the arrival of the notification he immediately called at the Press Democrat office to leave an order for cards.

“My duties,” said “Rammi,” with a chest expansion that was remarkable, “will be to inspect all lonesome places. I shall put up my cards in places where people cannot see them and they will be lonesome, too.”

– Press Democrat, September 21, 1910
GREAT CROWDS AT THE LUPPOLD BARBECUE

It is estimated that between four and five hundred persons enjoyed the barbecue given at Gwinn’s Corners on Sunday by J. J. Luppold. The meat was done to a turn and pronounced by many of those present as the finest barbecued meat they have ever eaten. Chef George Zuhart was in charge and he was much complimented. He was assisted by Assistant Chef Marble, Walter Farley, Marvin Robinson and J. Kelly. As usual “Mayor” Luppold’s hospitality was dispensed with a liberal hand. The feasting began about 11:30 o’clock in the morning and continued until nearly 6 o’clock in the evening, people arriving and departing all the time. The barbecue was served on long tables under the shade trees.

– Press Democrat, June 14, 1910
LUPPOLD GIVES AN ELEGANT SPREAD

Jake Luppold again demonstrated on Sunday that he is a price of entertainers. At his resort at Gwinn’s Corners he spread a feast of more than the usual excellence for his friends, the “natives.” It was a bull’s head dinner, and proved one of the most attractive feasts that have ever been given in this vicinity.

Hundreds from Santa Rosa went out to the spread, making the trip by vehicles of all sorts, automobiles, motor cycles and bicycles. They were extended the utmost hospitality by Mr. Luppold, and bidden to partake of the excellent dinner which he had prepared. Chef Phil Varner had carte blanc orders from Mr. Luppold to give the “natives” the best that could be procured, and the chef exerted himself to carry out these orders and please those who came to partake of the viands.

The menu was one that would tickle the palate of the most exacting and would compare favorably with the dinners of the best hotels of the metropolis. With an abundance of good things to eat and drink, the assemblage at Luppold’s had a happy time.

– Santa Rosa Republican, September 19, 1910
“WIRELESS” MAN AGAIN IN TROUBLE
Horace Robinson, First Arrested in Santa Rosa on Complaint of J. S. Rhodes, Once More in Captivity

Horace G. Robinson, said to be the king of swindlers, who is alleged to have operated extensively in San Francisco and San Jose, is again in jail in New York, having been arrested there yesterday as a fugitive from this state. A number of Santa Rosans remember this man and his “wireless” very well.

In two years Robinson has seen the interior of many jails on this continent and in Europe. Somehow he has always managed to regain the fresh air and after his last escape a world-wide search was instituted, resulting yesterday in his apprehension in New York.

Robinson’s specialty, according to complaints filed against him, is dealing in spurious wireless Marconi stock. He took advantage of the growing importance of the wireless telegraph and it is alleged before detection left a trail of spurious wireless stock extending from coast to coast and over Europe.

He first got into trouble in California with J. S. Rhodes of Santa Rosa, who caused Robinson’s arrest and detention in the St. Francis Hotel. About the same time J. L. Glenn sued the promoter for $50,000, alleging that he had alienated the affections of Glenn’s wife.

In Santa Rosa it will be remembered Robinson got clear by the skin of his teeth. Rhodes not desiring to prosecute him after he had refunded the money.

Shortly after he was taken to Santa Rosa H. S. Beck of San Jose discovered that Robinson had sold him stock in a wireless telegraph corporation that existed only on paper. The Santa Clara grand jury indicted Robinson. He was arrested in New York July 31, 1909, but pending extradition proceedings was released. He did not return to New York.

Long before his arrest out here Robinson had been in trouble in New York several times. On April 30, 1905, he was arrested in New York after he had attempted to hide in a heap of discarded clothing. Little was heard of him until September, 1908, when he disappeared from Paris.

He cut a wide swath in the French capital. He was known as a man of vast fortune and on the oaken door of his richly furnished apartment hung the brass sign, “Banker, Foreign Securities, Marconi Wireless.” He was continually being arrested on charges similar to those filed against him by H. S. Beck of San Jose. The charge has generally been that of obtaining money under false pretenses.

Robinson is said to be the son of a minister. His manner is suave and his hospitality unstinted. He made friends quickly and easily gained confidences.

– Press Democrat, August 25, 1910
DAKEN RETURNS FROM TRIP TO PAINT MINE

S. T. Daken, the artist, has returned from San Diego, where he visited the Premier Investment paint mine. Says Mr. Daken:

“The Premier Investor paint mine is much greater than I expected to see. The work that is done on the mine consists of three cross-cuts on the ledge. There is one cross-out on the claim known as the White Hawk. This cross-cut os very high on the ledge, and was not started from the foot wall, but is run to the hanging wall. This shows up 75 feet of paint ore of several different colors with no waste…

“…Quantity and quality are there. This mine only lacks 80 feet of being one mile long, so I guess that is quantity. This paint ore can be mined for a very small cost, not to exceed 25 cents per ton; the milling is very simple and not expensive. There are a large number of colors which are lime proof which will drive the troubles away from the tinter and frescoer. There has been no end to this trouble of colors burning out, especially in new plastered buildings. I have had seven years experience in the frescoe business and know what these troubles are.”

– Press Democrat, October 19, 1910
S. T. DAKEN HAS RETURNED
Brings Back Beautiful Views of Lake Tahoe

Mr. and Mrs. Samuel T. Daken and family returned Tuesday evening from Lake Tahoe where they spent the summer. They have been gone over three months and while away Mr. Daken has combined business with pleasure, and has brought back with him many beautiful views of Lake Tahoe and the various other lakes and scenes about this famous summer resort.

In Mr. Daken’s collection of paintings are Donner, Webber, Watson, Cascade and Fallen Leaf lakes, Emerald Bay, Truckee river, Lofty Peak, Idle Wilde, the Walls of Mt. Tallac, Peak of Mt. Tallac, Moonlight on Tahoe, Devil’s Peak, The Five Lakes, and Redskin Point. The largest painting is of the walls of Mt. Tallac. Emerald Bay and Tahoe Turned to Gold in the Early Morning are most exquisite, and Mr. Daken prizes these above all the others. The latter was painted at 4 o’clock in the morning and the tints are most beautiful.

Mr. Daken made some thirty pencil sketches about the lakes and there is some excellent scenery shown. One wall of his studio will be devoted to his paintings made at the lake and they will soon be on exhibition. A number of his paintings are left at Tahoe Inn and all his pictures were greatly admired by people at the resorts.

The Walls of Mt. Tallac will be placed in the Flood Building in the Southern Pacific office in San Francisco on exhibition, and Russian River from Guernewood Heights, which is now being displayed here, will be removed to the Oakland office.

– Santa Rosa Republican, September 21, 1910
ARTIST DAKEN DISPOSES OF HANDSOME PAINTINGS

Artist Samuel T. Daken has recently disposed of a number of his splendid paintings. He has sold the one entitled “The Geyser Region” to a Los Angeles resident, and two handsome scenes from the Armstrong redwood grove to Senator Wright of San Diego. These pictures have been delivered to Senator Wright at Sacramento. In the near future Mr. Daken will make an exhibition of his paintings in Pasadena and at Los Angeles.

– Santa Rosa Republican, March 24, 1911
DAKEN RECEIVES TWO GOLD MEDALS AT EXHIBIT

Artist Samuel Daken has returned from San Jose, where he recently made an exhibit of his splendid pictures. These were shown at the San Jose Pure Food and Industrial Exposition and Mr. Daken was awarded two gold medals for his splendid display. One of these medals was for the best general display and the other was for the splendid picture “Russian River From Guernewood Heights.” This is the Daken masterpiece and has never failed to attract much attention and win prizes wherever it has been shown.

– Santa Rosa Republican, October 3, 1911

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THE BURKE TRIAL: VERDICT

Jeff Elliott Leave a comment

And lo, after six weeks of courtroom drama in Santa Rosa’s trial of the century, the jury sayeth thus: Doctor Willard P. Burke was guilty of attempted murder.

– –


THE BURKE MURDER CASE


THE BIG DEAL OF THE CENTURY

THE DYNAMITE LINK AND LU ETTA DISAPPEARS

WHO HID THE KEY WITNESS?

DO YOU LOVE YOUR GOLD OVER YOUR CHILD?

DOCTOR OF LOVE

IMMACULATE CONCEPTION

MYSTERIES ABOUND

COURTROOM BOMBSHELLS

BURKE TESTIFIES

The speed of the verdict shocked trial watchers – the jury arrived at its decision in slightly over two hours – as did the certainty of their decision; not a single juror thought he was innocent.

The San Francisco Call sent its courtroom reporter to interview Burke in his jail cell. The writer found the doctor melancholy and defiantly declaring his innocence. “…He declared himself sorry for the jurors. He complimented District Attorney Lea on his closing address. He looked forward to seeing him the next democratic congressman and vowed that the forthcoming years would see him voting for Lea. ‘A bright boy,’ he said, ‘a remarkably bright boy…'”

The Press Democrat, which had covered every aspect of the trial in remarkable depth, was caught unawares by its abrupt conclusion. Where they were probably expecting to cover every point of the prosecutor’s closing arguments on the final day, the PD described only a single detail before hurrying on with a terse summary: “District Attorney Lea closed his argument for the prosecution with a comprehensive review of the evidence as presented by both sides, and arrayed his facts in telling style. He is an earnest, eloquent and forceful speaker and held the closest attention of the jury throughout…no detail being overlooked that might tend to strengthen the position of the prosecution.”

The SF Call mentioned another important point, describing that Lea pointed out it was silly for the defense to claim the original dynamite, wrapped in newspaper, could have been buried in sandy mud for 53 days and emerge with the paper still looking like new. All of the reporters failed to catch the point that was actually most interesting – namely that District Attorney Lea apparently told the jury they should find Burke guilty even if they believed he didn’t commit the crime.

Say what?

We first read about this in the newspapers a week later, when everyone was back in court for sentencing. Defense Attorney Leppo asked for a new trial. The Press Democrat reported: “Dr. Burke was tried for almost everything under the sun,” said Attorney Leppo in his argument, “and every attempt was made to prejudice this defendant in the mind of the jury. The effect of the Court’s ruling was to strengthen any idea that the jury might have gotten that Dr. Burke should be convicted on ‘general principles,’ and in reality amounted to a declaration that he should be found guilty even though he did not really commit the crime.”

Specifically, Leppo’s motion insisted that the judge’s final instructions to the jury were prejudicial. Apparently summarizing a point made by prosecutor Lea, Judge Seawell told them it didn’t matter whether Burke acted alone or helped someone else commit the deed. This was unfair, Leppo argued, because nothing was said during the trial about Burke being an accessory to the crime. Here is exactly what Judge Seawell told the jury:

I charge you that all persons concerned in the commission of a crime, whether it be a felony or a misdemeanor, and whether they directly commit the act constituting the offense or aid and abet in its commission, are principals in any crime so committed.

Therefore, if you are satisfied from the evidence in this case beyond a reasonable doubt and to a moral certainty that the crime charged in the indictment was directly committed by the defendant as therein set forth, it would be your duty to find him guilty, so, to, if you should be likewise satisfied from the evidence in the case that the explosive referred to in said indictment was deposited and exploded by some other person that the defendant, whose identity is unknown, and you should also be satisfied from the evidence beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant was concerned in the commission of such crime, as above explained, and that he did not directly commit the act constituting the offense, but aided and abetted its commission, or not being present, advised and encouraged its commission, you should likewise return a verdict of guilty.

The motion for a new trial was denied and Defense Attorney Leppo appealed the decision, all the way to the state Supreme Court, which agreed with Judge Seawell. It didn’t matter whether Burke did it by himself or was an accessory before the fact “…since he can be charged in the indictment as a principal whether he actually committed the offense or aided and abetted or encouraged its commission, he can be justly convicted if the evidence shows that he was connected with the crime in either relation,” the high court ruled over a year later.

All of this legal hairsplitting is (somewhat) interesting, but Gentle Reader is probably asking oneself about now, what about the implications of it all? Did someone else actually handle the dynamite? Yes, I believe so – and I also think the judge, jury, and most everyone else in that courtroom similarly believed that Dr. Burke did not act alone in the attempt to murder Lu Etta Smith.

Start with Burke’s alibi: The loud explosion marked the exact moment of the crime and he had a reasonable – albeit not perfect – explanation of his whereabouts. Two patients said he briefly visited each of them 5-10 minutes before the explosion was heard. Judging from the 1911 photograph seen at right, the cabin-tents appear to be at least 100 yards from the main building. It is possible, but not likely, that he left the patient’s rooms, collected the dynamite from his study, rushed to the tent area, placed the explosive, strung out a lengthy fuse (which would burn about 30 seconds per foot, and let’s not forget this was being done in darkness and he had never personally handled dynamite) then sprinted back to the main building before the big bang. Could 59 year-old Willard Burke have done that? Could you?

Burke’s behavior, however, strongly suggested he desired the death of the woman who insisted Burke was the father of her child and who was now contacting attorneys, apparently planning to file a lawsuit against him. Shortly before Christmas, 1909, Burke visited his gold mine in the Sierras and returned with six sticks of dynamite. At once he began saying that Lu Etta had told him she wanted to commit suicide by blowing herself up. No one else heard her say such a thing. While she was recuperating from her injuries after the explosion, it was discovered that Burke was treating her wounds with potentially lethal doses of arsenic. He was not indicted for a second attempt at murder, but in later denying the appeal by Burke’s defense team, the California Supreme Court agreed that it certainly appeared that Burke  “…contemplated that the death of Miss Smith would be the result of the continued application of this ‘slow poison.'”

Having now read everything available about the case, thought about it for months and having written in this space ten articles chronicling the crime investigation and trial, I humbly submit that I’ve come to know Dr. Burke and Miss Lu and the others fairly well. Here is what I believe happened:

Although he was twenty years older, Willard had known Lu for almost her entire life. She was in the same grade as his youngest brother Alfred at their school in Upper Lake, and Willard’s sister testified she first met Lu when she was about four. Over the next two decades their paths probably crossed many times after he graduated from medical college; most of his family continued to live on their Lake County farm in Bachelor Valley while Willard practiced medicine mainly in Napa and Sonoma Counties. As mentioned earlier, Burke testified Lu Etta first came to his Sanitarium in 1901 as a patient, then remained there as an employee for several years. The next snapshot of them comes from shortly after the 1906 earthquake. She was living at the time in Yolo County and he wrote a friendly letter letting her know the Sanitarium survived without serious damage. He offered to send money. She testified they had sexual intercourse for the first time a month later.

From that point on, Lu Etta Smith was entirely dependent upon Willard Burke. He sent her money for living expenses at various places around the Bay Area or paid her landlord directly. When she arrived at his sanitarium, eight months pregnant, he put money in her bookkeeping account that paid for her residence there.

When you scrape this tale to its bones, it comes down to one thing: Money. Everything else – their sexual relationship, the eccentric views held by each of them, even, to a degree, the paternity of the child – is a MacGuffin. Lu Etta, a woman in her late 30s with a grade school education and few friends, wanted a nest egg; Willard was a miser who boasted of his great generosity, while not giving her a penny more than he deemed necessary. She overreached, writing a letter promising to disappear before the trial began in exchange for $20,000 (about a half million dollars in today’s currency). He went on the cheap even when it was obviously against his best interests; when she did voyage to Japan to hide from the trial lawyers, he ignored her pleas for the allowance that was promised and would have allowed her to stay there.

Her relationship with Willard became arduous once she was at the sanitarium for the birth of her child. She wasn’t at ease with either the patients or members of the staff, who viewed her as very eccentric and possibly deranged (the bookkeeper wrote that she was “almost an imbecile”). She repeatedly asked Burke for money so she could go away. Burke refused and gave orders to staff that she was not to be allowed to leave. She threatened to sue. She also created scenes in front of sanitarium guests and staff demanding he admit fatherhood. This was no simple mother’s emotional outcry; Burke was a very wealthy man – his gold mine alone was valued at $6 million in modern terms – and he had no descendant heirs. Except for little Willard P. Burke Smith, of course.

We’ll never know exactly when he decided that blowing Miss Smith to smithereens was his best option. He may have visited his mine that December of 1909 because he actually wanted to only discuss new machinery; he may have asked the miners for the dynamite on a whim because he remembered they needed to blow up a big rock on the property. But when he returned to Sonoma County with the dynamite, he was given a ride from the train station by Dr. Hitt, who informed him “there had been quite a commotion at the sanitarium on account of Lu Smith having telephoned to San Francisco to an attorney.” A few moments later in their conversation, Burke dropped the comment that she and her child would be “better off dead.” It was also around this time he stopped making payments into her sanitarium account – for a tightwad like Burke, that was a definite tell.

But if he were planning to kill her with dynamite, why would he broadcast that Lu Etta had supposedly told him she planned to blow herself up? Wouldn’t that make him about the stupidest murderer of all time? What he was actually doing, I believe, was advertising for someone else to kill her. He was providing both the means and the expectation that the act would be committed – and anyone working at the sanitarium realized it would be a great boon for Doctor Burke if the problem that was Lu Etta Smith disappeared. All Burke needed was for someone to do him this great service.

That someone, I firmly believe, was Aggie Burke, Dr. Burke’s sister-in-law.

No one else in our cast of characters had greater motive to perform Willard such a solid favor. She and her husband Alfred were supposed to be the managers of the sanitarium, but apparently were hangers-on who did little; Dr. Burke had recently commented he would like to jettison them, and if the place were to be sold or leased to someone else they would undoubtedly be first to go. She was also apparently a troublesome drunk; while Burke was at his mine collecting the dynamite, there was outrage at the sanitarium after she slapped or punched Dr. Hitt in the snoot. She (and Alfred) also had the greatest opportunity to commit the crime, as they seem to be living in another of the tent-cabins – they were first on the scene after the explosion. And finally, it was Aggie who elbowed her way into the spotlight as the sanitarium spokesperson as reporters swarmed the scene, loudly defending Dr. Burke while telling them Lu Etta was a lunatic who was likely holding the sizzling stick of dynamite between her teeth until she lost her nerve at the last moment.

Don’t believe Burke was hoping to murder Lu Etta by proxy? Look also at the arsenic incident.

(As mentioned before, Burke’s use of arsenic was unusual and old-fashioned by 1910, but not improper. Lu Etta’s wound developed “proud flesh” while healing and small amounts of arsenic were applied directly to such diseased tissue in 18th and 19th century medicine. Here’s a reference in the 1797 Encyclopaedia Britannica and another in a 1871 pharmacology on Chinese medicine.)

In his testimony, Burke told the court he took over as Lu Etta’s physician the evening after the explosion. A couple of days later the wound began looking and smelling foul. He treated it with witch hazel (to reduce swelling), boracic acid (a harmless antiseptic) and a one percent solution of arsenic. When there was no improvement by the next day, he increased the arsenic dosage to seven percent solution – well within the range that could cause death, according to a doctor testifying for the prosecutor, particularly when it was applied in the manner used by Burke, as a dressing.

District Attorney Lea led Burke through a damning series of questions: Burke used the seven percent solution only once. He left the arsenic by Lu Etta’s bedside. It was in a small white paper box, the same as used for the boracic acid. Arsenic and boracic acid look the same. The box containing the dangerous dosage of arsenic was unlabeled. He did not tell the nurses that he was using arsenic.

The inference in the prosecutor’s questioning was clear: Burke hoped a nurse changing Lu Etta’s wound dressing would use the arsenic by mistake and kill her.

Burke was not indicted on this second attempt to kill Lu Etta, although he certainly could have been charged with criminal negligence for not labeling the poison, even if there was no iatrogenic injury or death as a result. Nor did prosecutor Lea present the Grand Jury with evidence that Aggie Burke or other persons unknown must have had a hand in setting off the dynamite. Given Dr. Burke’s high standing in the community, Lea must have realized he would be lucky to get any sort of conviction at all and it was best to stick to a simple narrative: Burke got the dynamite, Burke used the dynamite, and intended to kill his troublesome mistress.

Burke was sentenced to ten years at San Quentin. “The defendant stood for a moment as one dazed,” the Press Democrat reported, “and then made his way back to his chair just inside the railing that separates the court and spectators. As he faced around, a tear-drop glistened in his eye. But he bade no sign, and the tear-drop did not fall.”

L’affaire Burke was now yesterday’s news, but the Press Democrat couldn’t yet say goodbye to its story of the century. The paper sent round its society reporter, the delightfully clueless Dorothy Anne, to interview Lu Etta and true to form, the interview ended up being mostly about Dorothy Anne interviewing. Golly, that woman is sure in touch with her feelings. The PD published two lengthy essays in defense of Burke, both stating he couldn’t have possibly been guilty because he is such a nice guy.

(RIGHT: Willard P. Burke, inmate. Photo courtesy Bancroft Library, UC/Berkeley)
While his sentence was on appeal, Burke asked for bail about three months after the verdict, claiming his health was failing in the county lockup. Bail was granted at $50,000, his bond underwritten by Santa Rosa’s richest men including Con Shea, John Overton and Frank Grace. In midsummer the PD reported Burke was in town, “looking very well, in fact many of his friends declare better than he has for years.”

The sanitarium was sold after the trial to a couple of homeopathic doctors: Dr. Carrie Goss Haskell of San Francisco and Dr. Wellingham B. Coffeen (consistently misnamed as “Coffen” or “Coffin” in the papers, probably because doctor + coffin = funny). It was renamed “Woodland Acres Sanitarium.”

The strangest episode in those months after the trial came in July, when the superintendent of Burke’s gold mine and a Detective Hurst “retained by several wealthy friends of Dr. Burke” showed up in Lakeport and tried to get Earl Edmunds to confess to the dynamiting; his uncle Dillard, the former bookkeeper of the sanitarium, confronted them on street the next morning and caused quite a row. This little adventure is all the more mysterious because Edmunds, an orderly who was 19 at the time, had the best alibi for that night as he was flirting with a pretty nurse when the explosion was heard.

About fourteen months after the trial, the California Supreme Court finally rejected his appeal. The next day Willard P. Burke began his new life as San Quentin inmate #25602.

What became of the players in our little melodrama?

*

 MRS. MARIAN DERRIGG   The intriguing Mrs. Derrigg (who was probably “Marion Derrig” but also used at least two other aliases) was a long-time friend of Dr. Burke. She was instrumental in efforts to hide Lu Etta in Japan and spin the story that she was suicidal. She was wanted as a witness by both the defense and prosecution, but she successfully hid from detectives in Los Angeles, surfacing the very day the trial ended. “The woman is one of the most mysterious characters I have run across,” District Attorney Lea told the San Francisco Call. “As I understand  she is a handsome blonde, a little over 30 years of age, and has the faculty of making men do her will. She bobbed into the Burke case with the utmost mystery. We have discovered that following the explosion and the indictment of Burke she went to the sanatorium [sic], took a hurried trip to Los Angeles, and then shot up again in San Francisco, buying a ticket to Japan for Lu Etta Smith. Whatever her relations were with Burke they were rapid, to say the least.” In January, 1912, the SF Call reported she was in an Ohio state asylum and “her case is said to be incurable.”

*

 ALFRED BURKE and AGGIE BURKE   Dr. Burke’s younger brother died about two months after the verdict. The cause was not mentioned in the papers, but it appeared he was in rapid decline during his brother’s trial (feel free to speculate about Dostoevskian guilt over his role in an attempted murder of a childhood friend). The Press Democrat reporter commented, “The marked change that has taken place in the appearance of Alfred Burke since the beginning of his brother’s trial has been one of the features of this sensational case. From a strong, robust man, the very picture of health, Alfred Burke has wasted away until he is only a shadow of his former self.” Aggie remained at the sanitarium working as a housekeeper at least through 1919.

*

 DR. WILLARD P. BURKE   Despite his ten year sentence, the doctor spent less than three years in prison. Instead of working in the infirmary as he hoped, he went to San Quentin. He was  pardoned by Governor Hiram Johnson in January, 1916, having been on parole for six months before that, during which he chopped wood in Butte county. Gentle Reader may recall that Johnson was hired as Burke’s original defense attorney, but dropped out before the trial began to run for office. The pardon allowed him to practice medicine again and he said he intended to reopen the sanitarium. (I do not know whether or not that happened.) He had a medical office in Healdsburg, according to the 1929 phone directory, and between then and 1935 was also listed in Santa Rosa as operating “baths” at 819 Fourth street. He died January 31, 1941 in Sonoma County.

*

 LU ETTA SMITH   The day after the verdict, the Call reporter asked Lu Etta what she planned to do. “How am I to know?” She replied. Lu Etta spent the next year in limbo, living in Berkeley with her son at the expense of Sonoma County, who wanted her ready to testify in case the Third District Appeals Court ruled in favor of Dr. Burke. When the Court of Appeals upheld the verdict exactly a year later, it was announced that she was planning to sue Burke for $25,000 damages. Her attorney was Fannie McG. Martin, one of the founders of the suffrage movement in Sonoma County. Nothing came of that, however, and the last we hear of Lu Etta in that period was a little item a few months later, when it was reported she had moved to San Francisco to find work as a nurse, being months behind her Berkeley rent since Sonoma County stopped paying her bills. The 1940 census found her in Oakland living with son Willard, who was an accountant at the WPA office. She died in Alameda County in 1950, age 79.

A personal note: In writing about the doings at Burke’s institution over these ten articles, I fell into the habit of typing “asylum” when I meant to write, “sanitarium.” The more I got into the story, the more “Burke’s Asylum” sounded right. Don’t know why.

BURKE CONVICTED!
Verdict Returned Last Night by Jury on the Third Ballot
VERDICT A SURPRISE
Turned Over to the Sheriff and Is Now in Jail

“In the Superior Court of the County of Sonoma, State of California: The People of the State of California, plaintiff, against W. P. Burke, defendant. We the jury, find the defendant guilty as charged in the indictment.”

The above verdict was returned by the jury at 11:15 last night in the case of Dr. Burke, charged with the attempted murder of Lu Etta Smith, which has been on trial for nearly two months. The end came suddenly and unexpectedly and created a sensation, as no one had anticipated a verdict with such little delay.

The indictment, which was returned by the grand jury on February 25, 1910, charged the defendant with having committed the “crime of maliciously depositing and exploding explosives with intent to injure a human being.”

The Jury Retires

District Attorney Clarence F. Lea completed his masterful closing argument about 8 o’clock. Judge Emmet Seawell at once began reading his instructions to the jury and it was 8:40 when he concluded. The jury was provided with blank verdicts, and placed in the custody of Bailiff Don McIntosh filing out of the court room at 8:45 to decide the fate of the defendant.

The general sentiment of those present during the reading of the Court’s instructions was that they were favorable to the defendant. While no one expected an immediate verdict there was no tendency to leave the court room except by a few to get into the lobby for fresh air.

Call for Evidence

It was about 9:15 when the bell from the jury room startled those within hearing. In response to the bailiff’s prompt answer the jury asked that the dynamite and fuse offered in evidence by the defense be given them to take to their room. This request was complied with and nothing more was heard from the jury room.

At 10 o’clock Judge Seawell instructed the bailiff to lock the jury up for the night, but at the same time informed them that if a verdict was reached before midnight he might be called.

This had the effect of practically clearing the court room as it was then believed there would be no verdict before morning. Dr. Burke, with his wife, Dr. and Mrs. H. F. Dessaud, R. E. Grisby and his daughter, and Frank Golden, who were in the court during the evening, left court room with Attorneys Leppo and Cowan. District Attorney Lea had left for home immediately after the close of his argument completely prostrated.

Verdict is Reached

Just after 11 o’clock the jury bell again rang and the bailiff, who responded, was informed that the jury had reached a verdict and was ready to report to the court.

A hurry summons was immediately sent out for the Court…

…”Read the verdict, Mr. Clerk.”

Clerk Burroughs hand trembled slightly as he took the paper and began reading slowly and distinctly the words thereon.

Watches Jury and Court

Dr. Burke, sitting besides his wife behind his attorneys just inside the railing separating the public, had scarcely taken his eyes from the jurors from the moment the first one appeared at the door and entered the room until the paper was passed to the clerk. He then followed it with his eyes and watched the Court closely as if to read his mind as Judge Seawell read the words which meant so much to him.

There was no sign, however, from the Court, and there was a deathly stillness as the clerk read, “Guilty as charged.”

[…]

How the Jury Stood

Three ballots were taken and on the first two ballots the jury stood 11 for conviction and one blank. On the third ballot there were 12 for conviction. At no time was there a vote recorded for acquittal.

[…]

Lea’s Telling Argument

District Attorney Lea closed his argument for the prosecution with a comprehensive review of the evidence as presented by both sides, and arrayed his facts in telling style. He is an earnest, eloquent and forceful speaker and held the closest attention of the jury throughout.

Taking up the matter of the buried dynamite, and the marked package afterwards introduced by the defense as being the one brought down by Greenwell from the mine some ten days after the explosion. Lea emphasized the strange character of Attorney Golden’s request and reminded the jury had said, “I have foolishly destroyed the evidence needed to keep Dr. Burke from going to the penitentiary”; how Greenwell had at first demurred saying: “You are asking a good deal of a man with a family, to expect him to do something that may land him in State’s prison”; how Greenwell had finally consented to procure the four sticks of dynamite and two fuses as per Golden’s request; how Greenwell took a fast team, and, under the shield and darkness of the night drove twenty-two miles through the mountains, went down into the deep canyon to the mouth of the mine, and secured the evidence wanted, returning with it to Oroville just as the gray dawn was breaking and bringing it to this city the following day, where it was delivered to Golden in the back room of a second-class hotel at which Greenwell had registered under an assumed name, and after a midnight drive to Burke’s Sanitarium, where he expected to see Golden and deliver over the package that same night of his arrival.

“Yes, that much-needed evidence had been destroyed,” cried Lea in a dramatic manner as he suddenly turned and faced the aged defendant. “But it was destroyed on the night of February a year ago by this defendant when he applied his match to the fuse beside the tent-cottage in which Lu Smith and her child lay peacefully sleeping.”

Following up his argument, District Attorney referred to the haste that had been displayed in procuring the dynamite from the mine, and Golden’s claim that he wanted it to use for experimental purposes. “But it was not until after the beginning of this trial, or nearly eleven months after the dynamite came into his possession, that any experiments were made,” said Lea. The remainder of the argument was along similar lines, no detail being overlooked that might tend to strengthen the position of the prosecution.

– Press Democrat, January 28, 1911
LU SMITH’S LIFE TRAGEDY
An Interview by Dorothy Anne

When I rang the bell last night at the Mead home on Chinn street, where Lu Etta Smith is at present living, I will confess my heart was down in my boots–and my boots were wet and cold.

That “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,” was a motto plainly in my mind’s eye. Reporter after reporter from the San Francisco dailies had plead, argued and threatened, trying to make Lu Etta Smith talk for publication. She was obdurate. She would not. She had nothing to say to them; therefore she said nothing. Would she talk to me? That was the vital question.

I rang the bell. The door was answered by a most polite and agreeable young lady who was armed for an odious male. She gasped when she saw me and smiled a cold smile when I made my errand known.

My quest was quite useless, but would I come in? I did so and quickly, before she could change her mind. She would ask Miss Smith if she would talk to me. She did. Miss Smith said she would not talk. When Miss Smith said she would not, she should not. That was all there was to it. I suppose I should have left, but I did not.

I tried again. I argued what a very harmless reporter I was, how cold the nigh was how far I had come. I told of my sympathy for the unfortunate woman and — the young lady said she would ask Lu Etta Smith again, but she really didn’t think it any use.

Miss Smith then sent word back that she would talk to me if I would come into the dining room.

The dining room in the Mead home is the usual comfortable, well-furnished room of the American home. There were just the heavy oak table and chairs and a small couch. Seated on the couch, as if roused from a recumbent position, was probably the most discussed woman in the town and State, Lu Etta Smith.

She looked worn and tired, and I felt ashamed of myself for inflicted my presence upon her, even briefly. The lines in her face showed genuine sorrow and a nervous smile came and went as I talked.

“Reporters are a nuisance, are they not, Miss Smith,” I ventured.

“Yes,” she conceded, “today I have been burdened with them. They caught me coming after a walk with my boy and insisted I talk. I ran into my room and shut the door. Don’t you think they are very rude?”

Immediately I arose to the defense of the unfortunate reporter who is detailed to get a story at all hazards.

“Why do you not talk to them?” I added. “It would be easier.”

“They ask me too many questions and talk to me too long,” she almost defiantly answered.

I thought the topic exhausted.

“Have you any plans for the future?” I asked, noticing she held Froebel’s book on kindergarten work in her hand. “Do you plan to take up the kindergarten work as your future life work?”

“Only as it affects my baby,” she answered. “He is getting to be a big boy now, and is beginning to notice things. I want him to have the right start.”

That Miss Smith is more than ordinarily interested in this subject has been evident by the interest she has taken in attending lectures on the subject lately given by Miss Brown. I saw her there myself. So the conversation gently glided into the criticism of Miss Brown’s work.

“I thought you might be going to stay in Santa Rosa,” I rather insisted, hoping to get an expression of what she had planned for the future.

She shook her head sadly.

“It is too near the Sanitarium, I am afraid.”

“But if Dr. Burke is in the hands of the law, he cannot harm you.”

Then a most unexpected turn to the conversation took place. Quite unknowingly we discussed prisons and how work in portioned out to the prisoners, and I volunteered some information about the jute mill and the rockpile. I knew a lot. I had just heard it discussed at the Saturday Afternoon Club.

I told her the jute mill was run at a loss of $3,000 per year, even if everybody did work for nothing, and that everybody worked either there or on the rockpile.

Lu Etta Smith involuntarily stiffened, a look of something almost akin to terror crept into her eyes.

She leaned forward nervously and looked straight at me.

“If what you say is true, I hope Dr. Burke never goes to prison,” she said.

“Do you mean to tell me after what you say you have suffered at his hands, the disgrace of the trial, the terror and anxiety of waiting for the verdict, that you do not want to see him punished?”

“No, I believe in remedial punishment.”

“You mean that you think the punishment his conscience would give him, if he were free, would be sufficient?”

“Yes, that’s what I think.”

“Well, what state do you think a man’s conscience would be in if he had plotted and planned as the jury evidently believe Dr. Burke has? Do you not think it would be somewhat dulled?”

She shook her head and smiled a wan smile. The terrible tragedy of it all came over me, I couldn’t stand it. I left.

In my heart of hearts I believe Lu Etta Smith loves Dr. Burke! That all this trial and conviction has been a grief, not a joy to her. She told me frankly the only fear she ever had of him was that he would shut her up in an asylum for the insane.

What will become of Lu Etta Smith now? Who will turn to her the helping hand? Who will help her raise that beautiful little blue and white baby boy she so dearly loves?

These questions surged through my brain as I jumped into the waiting taxicab.

Who will?

God only knows.

– Press Democrat, January 29, 1911

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