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Taylorology Issue 34
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* T A Y L O R O L O G Y *
* A Continuing Exploration of the Life and Death of William Desmond Taylor *
* *
* Issue 34 -- October 1995 Editor: Bruce Long bruce@asu.edu *
* TAYLOROLOGY may be freely distributed *
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CONTENTS OF THIS ISSUE:
The Dispatches of Richard Burritt
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What is TAYLOROLOGY?
TAYLOROLOGY is a newsletter focusing on the life and death of William Desmond
Taylor, a top Paramount film director in early Hollywood who was shot to
death on February 1, 1922. His unsolved murder was one of Hollywood's major
scandals. This newsletter will deal with: (a) The facts of Taylor's life;
(b) The facts and rumors of Taylor's murder; (c) The impact of the Taylor
murder on Hollywood and the nation; (d) Taylor's associates and the Hollywood
silent film industry in which Taylor worked. Primary emphasis will be given
toward reprinting, referencing and analyzing source material, and sifting it
for accuracy.
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The Dispatches of Richard Burritt
Most sensational reporting of the Taylor case was done by Edward Doherty, of
the CHICAGO TRIBUNE, and Wallace Smith, of the CHICAGO AMERICAN. But there
was another Chicago newspaper with its own correspondent "on the scene":
Richard Burritt, of the CHICAGO DAILY NEWS. Although not quite as extreme
and lurid as Smith and Doherty, Burritt's dispatches are still interesting,
as can be seen from the following selection of material.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 7, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--While through the tangled skein of infatuations of
beautiful screen stars for William Desmond Taylor police and deputy sheriffs
today were searching for a tangible clue that might lead to the identity of
the person who shot and killed him last Wednesday night, Henry Peavey,
Mr. Taylor's colored valet, added further details concerning the heart
affairs that surrounded the film director.
Peavey declared that Mary Miles Minter, ingenue of the screen, and Mabel
Normand, both of whom wrote Mr. Taylor letters that were stolen after
discovery of the murder, were the only women who dined alone with Mr. Taylor
at the Taylor home.
Just a month ago, Peavey said, Miss Normand buttonholed him in the
living room of the Taylor home and in the course of a conversation said,
according to Peavey:
"Henry, Mr. Taylor and I are going to be married."
Miss Normand beamed with happiness as she spoke, Peavey told detectives.
"Miss Normand had dinner with Mr. Taylor alone on two different
occasions that I know of," Peavey said.
"I cooked the dinners for them. It was after the second dinner that I
cooked for them that Miss Normand spoke to me. I was filling the match tray
in the living room. They were sitting together on the divan. Miss Normand
got up and spoke to me as I was leaving the room.
"'Henry,' she said, 'I wonder whether you would answer a question if I
should ask it?' Then she said: 'Since you've been here, Henry, how many
other girls have had dinner alone with Mr. Taylor? Who are they?' I said
that only one girl had had dinner with Mr. Taylor before. 'That was Miss
Normand,' I told her.
"She shook her finger at me and said: 'Henry, I can see that Mr. Taylor
has posted you.'"
"Then she sprang a big surprise on me.
"She said: 'Henry, I wonder whether you would like to work for me.'
I said I didn't know whether I could please her. 'Well, you please Mr.
Taylor, and you ought to please me,' she said. 'You know, Henry,' she went
on, 'Mr. Taylor and I are going to be married.' All this time Mr. Taylor
said never a word."
Miss Normand has denied that there was any understanding with Mr. Taylor
or that they were in love. Yet they continued to write the "your baby" and
the "blessed baby" letters--letters that the police would like to see now
that they have read a note written Mr. Taylor by Mary Miles Minter, in which
she told Mr. Taylor, "I love, I love you, I love you."
Peavey disclosed an additional surprise today in the fact that Mr.
Taylor, who had been called immune from love himself, was in fact infatuated
with some one. In an upper drawer of his dresser he kept a filmy lace
handkerchief, which lay there between his own.
"One morning I came into his bedroom and saw him standing before the
dresser with the handkerchief cupped tenderly in his hands. Mr. Taylor
didn't see me. He pressed the handkerchief to his lips. There was a look on
his face I had never seen before, the look of a man at worship.
"When he saw me, he folded the handkerchief carefully and put it back in
the drawer. I was very careful not to touch it. It may have had initials,
but I did not see them."
While Mr. Taylor's body lay on the floor of his living room, two hours
after the murder was discovered, and friends of the film director, neighbors
and police officers sat or walked about the room, one of their number deftly
removed two or more packets of letters from the drawer of a table, placed
them in a pocket and sat down casually in the circle of Mr. Taylor's friends.
One of the packets contained the "blessed baby" letters of Mabel
Normand, the famous screen actress, which she had written to Mr. Taylor on
numerous occasions particularly, she tells interviewers now, from hotels in
New York in periodical absences from studio land.
Those who have seen the letters written by Miss Normand, say they are,
as Miss Normand described them, the platonic missives that an actress might
write to a director for whom she had a high regard.
As to the other missing letters, there is new ground for belief they are
love notes of a famous actress whose name has not yet been publicly mentioned
in the case.
That Mr. Taylor may have lost his life in defending letters and papers
from a blackmailer, who, on killing him, became frightened and made his
escape without taking any of them with him, is a theory on which a few
officers are working.
Charles Eyton, manager of the Famous Players-Lasky studio, and Mr.
Taylor's superior, in going over again the details of the scene in the Taylor
living room recalled that the movie director's palms pointed upward. This
simple fact may prove of great importance. Considered in connection with the
position of his arms as he lay on his back, it is taken to mean that he had
rushed an assailant or was reaching toward the drawer containing the letters
when the bullet struck him. It appeared that his arms were still
outstretched as he fell backward, his feet sliding under a chair.
The shot was fired from a distance of not more than four or five inches
from the body, the police have determined. Mr. Taylor had nearly reached the
assailant when he toppled over.
Los Angeles is taking delight in the pink silk robe de nuit that Mr.
Taylor kept in a bureau drawer of his sleeping quarters. His negro valet,
Henry Peavey first told of it. The garment disappeared, lace edging and all.
There was a city wide search for it. Movieland was turned upside down. Then
it reappeared--in the afternoon papers. Everybody knows about the robe, but
no one happens to have seen it; no one, that is, but Peavey.
Arrangements have been perfected by movieland to make the Taylor funeral
today as impressive as the burial of a nationally known statesman. Those
studios that are not closed by the business depression will shut their gates.
There will be two sets of pallbearers. One set has been selected by the
Overseas club, the other will be composed of members of the Motion Picture
Directors' association, of which Mr. Taylor was president.
There will be music and the services of the Church of England will be
read. A squad of Canadian ex-service men will fire a salute as the casket is
lowered, draped with the British colors. The funeral cortage, which all Los
Angeles will turn out to gaze upon, will wind in and out to the place of
burial, Hollywood cemetery.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 8, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--A cross of gold, of movie influence, or official laxity in
the opinion of veteran police reporters in Los Angeles, is slowly dragging
the Taylor murder case into the mire of obscurity from which it may never
arise.
The movie men are too eager to talk of Edward F. Sands, former butler-
secretary at the home of the victim, William Desmond Taylor, noted film
director, as a suspect; too full of protestations that no motive for the
crime can be unearthed from the maze of affection that screen stars of less
balance, poorer education, less understanding, fairly flung at the head of
the polished Taylor, soldier of fortune, well read, an excellent
conversationalist, charming and attractive to both sexes, a man inherently
gifted with the capacity to make warm, personal admirers of men and more
ardent admirers of women.
Despite this fear on the part of newspapermen, investigators employed by
Sheriff Traeger expect before nightfall to have in custody a nationally known
figure of movieland, who, they believe, can give information that will point
a straight trail to the slayer of Mr. Taylor.
The sheriff's men regard as zero in absurdity the belief of the police
and detectives from the district attorney's office that the culprit is Sands,
for whom the police hold warrants charging grand larceny of several thousand
dollars worth of Mr. Taylor's valuables and with burglary.
Sands, the sheriff's men think, is in no way implicated in the killing,
although a possible motive could be ascribed to him, revenge, and possible
motives of tangibility have not been numerous.
On the other hand, an attache of the district attorney's office has
announced that a complain charging Sands with the murder will be sought,
based on the corroborated evidence that he was seen near Mr. Taylor's home on
the night of Feb. 1, when the murder took place.
Though official confirmation is not yet to be had, it is believed that
certain of the sheriff's investigators are searching for Dennis Deane-Tanner,
William Desmond Taylor's brother, a man who several years ago mysteriously
disappeared, leaving a wife and two daughters, who are now living in
Monrovia, Cal. One officer today expressed the belief that Dennis Tanner
might even now be attached under an assumed name to one of the numerous
moving-picture studios, helped to his position by his brother.
Mr. Taylor, up to the time that an assassin's bullet stopped a salary of
$1,250 a week--real, not stage money, or a press-agented salary--Mr. Taylor
was remitting $50 monthly to his brother's family.
Miss Mabel Normand fainted as she took a last look at Mr. Taylor's face
at the funeral yesterday as the body lay in the church vestibule. The
service was over, the hearse was waiting and movie folk and nonprofessional
friends of Mr. Taylor were passing out. Miss Normand stumbled, fell and had
to be supported to a room. Smelling salts revived her.
There are many Angelenos who have curiosity to know just why the police
have handled Miss Normand as though she were a Sevres vase in a glass case
rather than the last person known to be with Taylor before his murder, the
girl who wrote him "Your baby" letters and received in return letters
addressed "Blessed Baby," the girl who underwent such emotional turmoil on
viewing Taylor's body after the funeral service yesterday, that she
collapsed, swooning in the vestibule of the church.
When Taylor's murder was discovered and police began their initial
investigation, Miss Normand, on being visited by detectives, declined at
first to talk. It was said she had suffered a nervous shock on hearing the
news; thereupon the police paddled back to the station. They called again
and cooled their heels for two or three hours after the manner of a bill
collector waiting for one in arrears to return home, and after a time Miss
Normand graciously consented to receive them.
It was quite formal and everything, Miss Normand made her statement and
the detectives bowed themselves out, duly appreciative of the fact that Miss
Normand had granted them an audience, but with no information. Miss Normand
divulged nothing of value, if she knew anything, and it is not expected she
will be subjected to the annoyance of a second visit from the police.
There are other widely known figures of the screen world who, perhaps
would yield information of value that perhaps would yield to tangible clues,
providing they were subjected to the cross-examinations that customarily
accompany murder investigations. The police are not making them and the
sheriff's men dare not because they do not wish to conflict with the police.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 9, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--The identity of the screen beauty who played the principal
feminine role in the life of William Desmond Taylor, murdered movie director,
was the information Chief Deputy District Attorney Doran was seeking today
when the investigation by Lee Woolwine, district attorney, got under way.
At police headquarters rumors were flying thick and fast that one or two
arrests would be made later in the day--men connected with the movie industry
who would be held incommunicado and given a severe quizzing in an outlying
office in order to keep their identity secret as long as possible and in
order not to hamper other phases of the murder inquiry.
Henry Peavey, Taylor's negro valet and cook, was the first witness
subjected to a cross-examination. Harry Fellows, Taylor's chauffeur,
followed him into the query chamber.
An attempt was being made to extract from Peavey information he is
believed to have covered under a spirit of talkativeness. At the start
Peavey disclosed that Taylor appeared to believe he had an enemy.
"You know," he said, "I didn't sleep at Mr. Taylor's place. I only
worked there during the day and part of the evening. One day a few weeks ago
I said to Mr. Taylor: 'I should think you'd be afraid to stay here alone
every night.'"
Taylor said he kept a revolver on a table in his bedroom on the second
floor. It was in easy reach. He looked very serious for a moment.
"Henry," he said, "you know I have my gun, and if I ever hear any one in
the house and the person does not answer when I call I shall shoot. I'm
taking no chances."
Following Peavey and Fellows, several noted screen stars were slated for
a cross-examination.
Howard Fellows was the next to enter the inquisition chamber. Fellows
was the murdered man's chauffeur. He declared he telephoned the Taylor home
about 8 o'clock on the evening the murder was committed. As he got no answer
to the phone call, he went to the house in person. Although he rang the
doorbell frantically, there was no answer. He came to the conclusion that
Taylor had heard, but for some reason did not wish to answer the bell, so he
left and put the automobile into the garage and went home.
Mr. and Mrs. Douglas MacLean were then called in. The MacLeans live
next door to the Taylor home. Mrs. MacLean retold her story of having heard
a shot the evening of the murder. She also declared she saw a stranger leave
Taylor's house.
A sweeping grand jury investigation of the murder seems a certainty with
the announcement by Woolwine that he has assumed personal charge of the case.
A score of nationally known moving picture actors and actresses will be
summoned to the district attorney's office, beginning today. Included in the
list, it is reported, will be Mabel Normand and Mary Miles Minter. Several
girl artists who are said to have been infatuated with Taylor are numbered
among those who will be subjected to a severe questioning.
The action of the district attorney, it is said, results from his
dissatisfaction with the manner in which the police thus far have handled the
inquiry.
Since the murder was discovered on the morning of February 2, none of
the leading lights of movieland has been called on the carpet and examined
with the severity that attends other criminal investigations.
Edward P. Sands, former butler-secretary of Taylor, who is sought by the
police and district attorney, was reported today to be in the vicinity of
Lowell, Ariz. Detective Captain Adams of the Los Angeles police department
received the intelligence in a telegram from the sheriff at Tucson.
The Arizona sheriff reported that a man answering Sands' description and
the counterpart of Sands' photograph, which has been sent broadcast through
the west, was seen at Lowell by Walter Peterson of Imperial. Peterson said
the man described himself as a deserter from the British navy, a former
resident of Vancouver, of Alaska and of Hollywood. He added he had been a
machine gunner in Villa's army in Mexico. An effort will be made to locate
the stranger and bring him to Los Angeles.
There was also a report from San Diego that a man who was registered as
James Martin at a hotel in that city and who was found a suicide in his room
was Sands. The man was not Sands, the Los Angeles police say.
Los Angeles continues to buzz about the letters that Mabel Normand wrote
Taylor. The whereabouts of the letters became known to a few officers
several days ago.
Here is the theory of the Taylor murder mystery that is coming to be
accepted by criminal investigators from Sheriff Traeger's office, a theory
not without certain substantiation that the investigators have been quietly
gathering the last forty-eight hours.
Out of a glittering circle of screen beauties--stars of the films whose
names are household words even in remote hamlets and who succumbed to his
charm--Taylor chose the few months just before his murder to pay more
attention to one of their number than had been his previous custom.
This star, known to American movie fans as a beauty, gave Taylor in
return an impassioned, unrestrained love. Reckless of the cost, she
responded to his attention as a man lost in the desert and parched from
thirst might thrown himself into the cooling waters of an oasis spring.
Her love for Taylor transcended reason. It became idolatry. She could
think, dream, of none but Taylor. At the shrine of his personality she
worshipped as a pagan priestess. Many men had longed to win her and had laid
at her feet great treasure, but she scorned them all.
She flouted one who had formerly been the most favored of her suitors,
treated him with open contempt. She snapped her fingers at him in disdain,
and when she did, there grew in his heart a hate for Taylor as unreasoning as
the star's affection.
He went to Taylor's home on the night of Feb. 1, according to this
theory, first to suggest, then to threaten and demand that Taylor break with
the girl--his girl. Everything he had heard of Taylor's mystery-cloaked life
he laid on the table.
He knew that many women had bared their hearts to Taylor in letters.
When all else failed he tried to take them away, to use them as a club to
compel obedience to his wishes. Taylor barred the way. Hate broke the leash
and the despised and rejected suitor turned loose the weapon he had brought
to use only as a last resort. He fired. Taylor fell dead and the slayer,
now aroused to what he had done, fled.
Slowly, silently the authorities are tightening the net around those
people who are believed able to point out the second man in the love feud, in
which, they think, can definitely be attributed the death of the film
director. Those of Hollywood who have good reason to fear that scandals in
which they have been participants might be linked with the case have gone
into seclusion. They are crouching behind their "mouth-pieces," to use the
argot--that is, their press agents. Their tongues are cleaving to the roofs
of their mouths.
One or more arrests were to have been effected last night, investigators
say, but the action contemplated was finally marked premature and the sleuths
went on gathering up threads of their case.
It was said today at the sheriff's office of Al Manning, chief
investigator: "When Manning strikes he will strike hard and sure, and he will
nail what he hits."
It is not believed the sheriff's inquiry will in any way conflict with
the action taken by District Attorney Woolwine in stepping into the case on
his return to Los Angeles from a rest to Ventura county, where he was
preparing to plunge into the trial of the case of Madalynne Obenchain.
Mr. Woolwine's advent has been regarded as inevitable in view of the
ineffective work of the police. Since the inquest into Taylor's death his
first deputy, W. C. Doran, has been observing the police procedure, which he
is said to have decided to be quite unsatisfactory. Mr. Doran finally was
ordered to go ahead.
With his chief he conferred with police detectives assigned to the case,
and a list of screen stars was made out for questioning. It was decided they
should be brought to the district attorney's office, placed on the grill and
compelled to sign statements.
Mr. Woolwine has turned over the Obenchain case to an assistant and will
devote himself to the Taylor murder mystery.
It is the present plan, it is declared, to subject Mabel Normand, author
of the "Your Baby" letters to Taylor, to a line of questioning not in keeping
with the dainty manner in which the police talked to her. Mary Miles Minter
is slated for a quizzing--the little queen who wrote Taylor, "Dearest, I love
you, I love you, I love you!" and added a string of symbolical crosses to
emphasize her protestation. Neva Gerber, with whom Taylor had been friendly,
and Claire Windsor, another friend, will be quizzed. Mr. and Mrs. Douglas
MacLean, a young couple whose names are never linked even by the scandal-
mongers with the wild parties of movie land, will be asked to repeat their
story. They were neighbors of Taylor and saw a strange man, wearing a
muffler, loitering about the Taylor home the night the murder took place.
Howard Fellows, Taylor's chauffeur, will be called in. The district
attorney's men will devote considerable attention to Henry Peavey, Taylor's
negro valet, who persists in saying, in spite of Miss Normand's denial, that
Miss Normand told him in Taylor's presence a month ago that she and Taylor
were to be married.
It came to light today that some of the chief executives of the
producing company with which Taylor was identified have many intimate
friendships among the city authorities concerned with the investigation. One
man, for instance, counts several high police officials has his pals through
many years. That fact, it is being pointed out, is not helpful to the
solution of the crime, particularly if it should wreck for all time the
reputations of film stars who are film stars largely because of the large
investments made in promoting them before the movie-going public.
One screen man of the highest standing, a man who has easy access to
offices at which ordinary citizens cool their heels and who was among the
first to reach Taylor's home after the body was discovered, said of Taylor's
letters and papers, when they were mentioned:
"I don't know who got them, but I do know it would be the duty of a
friend, if he knew there were any that Taylor would want no one to see, to
take them and get away with them and say nothing about it. I wouldn't admit
it if I got them, but I didn't get them."
The movie people will not overlook a single chance to escape further
scandals coming out through official channels. They have not recovered from
the Arbuckle case. Digging around in the Taylor inquiry, it is regarded as
certain, would bring to the surface a rotten condition in movie land,
compared with which the odor of the Arbuckle case would be as sweet as the
perfume of apple blossoms.
"If this case is really opened up," a man who should know said today,
"the movies will take a knockout blow, and all the millions of people who
have been cherishing sweet fancies about certain idols of the screen will see
their illusions pushed into the gutter."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 10, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--Lot, pleading to save movieland, would have cried:
"Lord, will you spare movieland if a few players are found whose lives
are above reproach?"
Were the Hollywood colony in peril of the divine wrath, Lot would have
to strike a sharp bargain.
This is the impression left with me after talking with a number of
acquaintances whose veracity I have no cause to doubt--persons who have been
welcomed in the inner courts of screenland, persons who have played with the
lights of filmdom when there was no director but their own desire to guide
them.
On the other hand--"I have lived a long time in Hollywood," various
newspaper reporters, nonprofessionals and others whose veracity I have no
just cause to doubt have told me, "and while I have attended many parties
where the fun waxed warm and furious, where the hooch flowed freely, where
there was considerable petting, some of it indiscriminate, I have never seen
any of the drug parties, the degenerate debauches, I have heard so much
about."
And again--"I have been everywhere in Hollywood in parties. Some lasted
nearly all night, but they were not different from the parties given at the
homes of the most respected, wealthy residents of the coast."
This from a former employee of Freiberg's, now wealthy, who is said to
be the blue book of movieland, the man who knows more of what goes on under
the crust than any other individual in the United States.
What is the truth about life in movieland? The movie-going public,
millions strong, has been asking since the Arbuckle and Taylor cases opened a
fissure in the private lives of nationally envied screen stars, beloved by
hosts of screen "fans."
Are all stars and near-stars debauchees, or are a few, or is none of
them? Are the stories of the wild night life they lead true, or is none of
them true? Is movieland 99 per cent pure, as Carl Laemmle thinks?
Many men of them who are not "strangers" round the world have told in
all seriousness that movieland is a smear on American decency. Others who
have followed the game closely for years have said that, were it not for the
cleansing air of Southern California, the stench of the movies would
asphyxiate clean-minded America. Others tell the world that the screen
players as a whole are decent-minded hard-working folk, whose every act is
exaggerated because they are professionals, always in the public eye.
I can only offer my personal opinion, based on taking testimony, and
that is this:
Movieland, so far as the players are concerned, is a life of illicit
amours. It is a land of sunshine, where youth works hard and plays hard. it
is a land of unrestrained appetites, of unchecked desires.
Movieland, is a land of petted, pampered, spoiled youth, where many work
out their own ruin. A streak of debauchery runs through the colony. Drugs
circulate there. Young people use them. There are addicts-more than the
movie industry will ever admit. Parties are held in movieland the details of
which, the plain bold facts of which, The Daily News would not send by
printed word into Chicago homes. But--
There are decent, respectable folk playing in the films. The players
themselves, of course, represent only a small part of the army employed in
the motion-picture industry. There are men and women on the screen,
important folk, with a serious purpose. Their private lives will bear close
inspection. But the private lives of the majority will not, for the
aristocrats of screenland are sadly enough in the minority--an exclusive
minority, if you will, that once outside the studio, seldom, if ever, runs
with the pack.
There are others who, while they have no claim to nobility of character,
have some claim to respectability, who are good fellows always, genial,
generous natured; but the line that divides them from the reckless is thin,
loosely drawn, and they break out all too easily.
The frankly immoral, numbering "sweet young things" with depraved
appetites, "snow birds," "hop heads," heroin hounds," users of morphine, are
more numerous than any official who has money invested in or is the paid
guardian of money invested in the movie industry and would be injured or his
employer injured by exposes of movie scandals will ever confess, if he knows.
Movieland, so far as the players are concerned, is the natural
consequence of raising to sudden riches a colony of young people who for the
most part (the pessimists say 99.99 per cent) were and are ungrounded in
values, unschooled in the refinement of simple pleasures, hopelessly
incapable of satisfying themselves save by indulgence of appetites, by flings
in gross materialism.
Irresponsible boys and girls found themselves dragged out of obscurity,
of poverty, from nowhere and placed on pedestals, the envy of American youth,
the delight of millions, simply because of pleasing faces, pleasing bodies.
From less than nothing they vaulted to the position of world figures.
Their empty pockets were filled--the public spoiled them. Lacking any
perspective, they knew no way of gratifying themselves except through the
medium of luxuries. Therefore they made a natural display of their wealth.
They fitted up expensive apartments and homes. They bought the raiment of
royalty and imagined they were royal. They tried to live what, to their
uneducated minds, was royal life--a life of cars, gay entertainments,
movement, rich dining, soft lights.
What to eat, what to drink, to wear, how to amuse themselves, filled
their playing hours. They tried all the world had to offer in food, clothes,
trick amusement, and it grew stale. In current slang they ceased "to get a
kick" out of a gay life.
They went further. They doped their moonshine, and Hollywood, by the
way, has made many bootleggers rich. They went further. They tried drugs--
many of them--cocaine, heroin, morphine, marijuana. They did not necessarily
become slaves of the drug, though many did and sunk to an unspeakable
depravity.
These are the ones principally who attend the debauches that are daubing
movieland with the brush of international notoriety. The orgies themselves
are not new to the world. They are counterparts of affairs that any one has
observed who has made the rounds in Paris since the war. A few, perhaps, are
as wild as any story sent from here has pictured them to be.
There are a few stars that hold aloof from moonshine parties, drinking
bouts that have many disheveled endings. From dope debauches, however, the
number that hold aloof is much larger. The exclusive clique flocks alone.
Its members have many nonprofessional intimates. Now and then some of them
attend a "liquoring up" party, but, when it develops into a debauch or sinks
to a disgusting plane, they withdraw and remain silent. They remain silent
because whatever scandal one depraved actor or actress brings on the game
reacts on the entire profession.
Investigators think there are greater quantities of drugs in southern
California than in any other spot on this hemisphere, and that, I believe, is
correct.
Two distinct drug rings are in operation at this point along the
Pacific. One is composed of agents from the Canadian ring, distributing
southward from the Canadian border. The second is the Mexican-American ring
that traffics in drugs from Mexico to San Francisco, where dope is very
common, and in quantities smuggled in from ships that have touched at German
and English ports. Both rings supply wholesale and retail.
Investigators have told me that numerous stars of the screen, girls as
well as men, have their pet "hop" agents, who supply them with what drugs are
sometimes needed to give the desired effect in livening up a party. Several
paper have told me they were guests at movie affairs in private homes where
guests who wished it were served with a "hypo." Still others say that they
do not believe this.
Drug using, however, is not confined to any particular colony. William
A. Pinkerton told me two weeks ago that the increased use of drugs since
prohibition among young people from better class families is appalling.
Debauches are not confined to the movie colony, for many "little Egypt"
parties are staged for and paid by "substantial citizens" here, as elsewhere.
It is appalling, however, how much moonshine goes down the slim, white
throats of screen stars who are idols of the country and of nations abroad.
The case could be recited of one moonshiner who carries in his "book" private
telephone numbers of countless stars, including many girls and women who
often get so drunk they "pass out." This moonshiner has listed names that
are synonymous with youth, innocence, sweetness and purity.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 10, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--Ten witnesses have been examined by District Attorney
Woolwine in his investigation of the murder of William Desmond Taylor, noted
film director, but not a scrap of evidence has been uncovered that will lead
to the issuance of a warrant.
A man who was expected because of his friendship with Taylor to prove of
material assistance failed to disclose anything of value. He is Arthur Hoyt,
moving picture actor and Taylor's closest friend. He was closeted with the
district attorney last night for two hours.
"Was Mabel Normand the only woman to visit Taylor at his home the night
of the murder?" detectives are asking. Miss Normand, so far as is known, was
the last person to be with Taylor, save the slayer. Detectives were asking
the question when the rumor reached them that another woman visited the movie
director about an hour before Miss Normand, but they have not yet confirmed
the report nor learned the identity of the woman.
...Mr. Hoyt is said by Charles Eyton, western manager for the Lasky
interests and Taylor's boss, to have been on closer terms with the murdered
director than any other person connected with the movie industry, and so far
as he knew, in the country. He lives at the Los Angeles Athletic Club and
last played under Taylor's direction in "The Witching Hour."
Mr. Hoyt was among the first of Taylor's friends to reach the Taylor
home after the director's death was reported. Heretofore the police, it is
said, have not questioned him.
Hoyt, Woolwine declared, said that so far as he knew Taylor had had no
serious affairs with beauties of the screen or with those elsewhere in Los
Angeles, which, because of the movies, is the beauty market of the United
States. Taylor had never confided in Hoyt things of that nature.
"All I can say," Mr. Hoyt stated, "is that Taylor was always a gentleman
and as fine a chap as one would ever expect to meet."
Mr. Woolwine has declined to make public at this stage of his
investigation the "your baby" letters that Mabel Normand wrote Taylor. They
came into possession of the district attorney yesterday, together with the
lace handkerchief, said to be initialed "M. M. M.," which Henry Peavey,
Taylor's negro valet, once saw Taylor ardently kissing, and the pink silk
robe de nuit, which Taylor kept in his dresser. Letters, handkerchief and
garment are locked up.
The district attorney refuses to say through whose hands Miss Normand's
letters passed before they reached him. Information has been secured that
would make it appear they may have been carefully sorted and some of them
destroyed before the remainder were turned in to the district attorney.
Pressed to show the letters, Mr. Woolwine took refuge in the statement,
as he had not read them himself he could not make public their contents. Not
having had time as yet to read them himself, he said, it would be improper to
talk about them until he did.
Witnesses thus far examined by the district attorney include, except for
Mr. Hoyt and one other, only those whose stories have been told and retold to
the police. The other one is an actor, examined last night, who is known as
the sweetheart of a screen star living not far from the Taylor home. His
name was not made public, nor was the name of the star for whose hand he has
long been a suitor, although the identity of the girl is generally known.
She has played opposite a famous comedian, bears a good reputation and is
popular among screen folk.
Sheriff Traeger with Undersheriff Biscailuz and Chief Investigator Al
Manning have apparently made good their disdain over the police hunt for
Edward F. Sands, former household employee of Taylor.
They believe they have eliminated Sands by the testimony of Mrs. Douglas
MacLean, wife of the movie actor and a neighbor of Taylor. Mrs. MacLean,
among those who made statements to the district attorney, was questioned by
the sheriff and his aides, before appearing at Mr. Woolwine's office.
The night of the murder she saw a roughly dressed man wearing a plaid
cap and muffler leave Taylor's home and walk casually away. No trace of this
man has been found and no clue to his identity. On being questioned by the
sheriff she gave as her positive belief that the man was not Sands, and thus
the story that Sands was seen near the Taylor home the night of the killing
blew up with a bang.
Edna Purviance, former leading lady for Charlie Chaplin, who saw lights
burning in Taylor's home all night on Feb. 1-2, may be called in also.
The hunt goes on for a possible Taylor will. None has been discovered,
though the public administrator made a thorough search of the slain
director's belongings--that is, those belongings that were left after police
and friends of Taylor had milled around the Taylor residence for a couple of
hours after he was found dead.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 11, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--A mischievous-eyed queen of the movies, Mabel Normand, film
star, whose name and radiant face are as well known throughout America as
those of any statesman or diplomat of the age, emerged, agitated but
triumphant at midnight last night from a three-hour nerve-racking questioning
conducted by District Attorney Woolwine, who tried to wrest from her
information that would help to solve the murder of William Desmond Taylor,
leading movie director and her intimate friend.
She passed through the ordeal without once contradicting herself or
changing her story. At the conclusion of the examination, the district
attorney formally announced that, while he might be mistaken, his impression
was that Miss Normand could throw no light on the mysterious slaying of
Taylor and was eager to give the authorities every assistance her physical
condition would permit.
Accompanied by Mr. Woolwine, his chief deputy, W. C. Doran; her manager
A. McArthur, and a woman companion, Miss Normand left the examination chamber
a few minutes before midnight. They had a long hallway to cover before they
reached the doorway and the elevator on the seventh floor of the hall of
records where the district attorney has his office.
At the end of the hall waited a platoon of newspaper men and a squad of
photographers, who had maintained a day and night vigil at the office since
Mr. Woolwine assumed personal charge of the Taylor investigation.
Camera men, all set for a flashlight halted the party and asked Miss
Normand to pose. She stood between Mr. Woolwine and Mr. Doran, handsomely
tailored in a maroon embroidered suit with a collar and vest of what appeared
to be Persian lamb. Mr. Woolwine started to back up. Miss Normand clutched
him wildly by the arm.
"You've got to be in this or I won't pose," she cried.
Despite agitation, illness and the nervous shock of the Taylor case, she
faced the newspaper men's cameras as though they were the first she had ever
seen. Until the photographers called "All ready," none would have suspected
she had passed many of her waking hours before cameras and that they make her
daily bread.
The flashlight boomed. Miss Normand took a deep breath. Then she
laughed and proceeded to the elevator.
There another battery of camera men lay entrenched and there were more
flashlights and exclamations and then Miss Normand went to her car and was
driven home.
Neither the context nor the chief features of the statement she gave Mr.
Woolwine were divulged by the district attorney, though he was besieged for
information. At the same time he steadfastly declined to make public any of
Miss Normand's letters to the slain movie director. The "Your Baby" and
"Blessed Baby" missives were taken from the Taylor home after the murder was
discovered, but for two days have reposed in the district attorney's strong
box, placed there when his detectives recovered them.
"All I have to say at this time," Mr. Woolwine told interviewers, "is
that we are going up a blind alley in the Taylor case. We are no further
advanced than yesterday. The whole case is a continued mystery.
"As for Miss Normand, while I may be mistaken, my impression is that she
is trying to help us. She has convinced the police offers she desires to
help and knows nothing about the murder or a possible motive."
The star of "Molly O," her latest release, and scores of other photo
dramas was summoned to the district attorney's office at 9 last night. It
was reported her physicians had said she was in a state of collapse and her
condition should discourage questioning on the details of Taylor's life she
might know and the rehearsing of his death.
When she arrived, however, at the hall of records she was not in a state
of collapse, though visibly agitated.
Following her examination, her chauffeur, William Davis was questioned
also and they repeated the stories they originally told in brief, that Miss
Normand visited Taylor's home the night of the murder to discuss a play with
him. She remained with the movie director but a short time. On leaving he
accompanied her to the door, left it open, walked to her car with her and
waved goodby. That, she said, was the last time she saw Taylor. She denied
they have ever been engaged, as reported by Henry Peavey, Taylor's negro
valet.
...Police are now trying to find a "missing" safety deposit box which
friends of Taylor think he may have had in downtown Los Angeles. One safety
deposit box was discovered by the public administrator, who is inclined to
the belief from a scrutiny of Taylor's check stubs and his accounts that he
kept no secret box.
Another report has it that Taylor visited a well-known jewelry store and
looked over some diamonds just before his death, that a film star examined
them also, but they were never bought or sent anywhere on approval.
Taylor was continually lending a helping hand to someone in the doldrums
or down in his or her luck. His pocket book was usually open to those in the
movies he felt needed help, and he spent his money almost as fast as he made
it. His entire estate, including jewelry and furniture and cars, will not
run above $20,000, though last year's income tax report shows he drew between
$37,000 and $40,000. At the time of his death he was earning $1,250 a week.
His income tax report would indicate he contributed more than a tithe to
charity and that his contributions to churches were generous.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 13, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--The Taylor murder, skyrocketing for ten days, casting off
showers of sparks that illuminated recesses long darkened in movieland, may
come down a charred stick. It may fall soon into the oblivion of other
unsolved cases that have held the country's wondering attention for a time.
It will unless some circumstance now unforeseen, some tangible clue that will
replace blind leads, suddenly fans the inquiry into new life.
A score of theories have developed since William Desmond Taylor, famous
film director, was found murdered on the floor of his home a week ago
Thursday morning, shot dead the night before. Some appeared promising, the
majority have been tantalizingly elusive, unsubstantial, illogical.
Promising conjectures, followed as far as evidence would lead them,
reached an attenuated state and then faded out completely. A thousand tips,
a thousand rumors have been sifted, checked, investigated, and the thousand
remained tips and rumors.
Groping about in the dark, District Attorney Woolwine has not a clue on
which he can place his hands and say:
"This will get us somewhere if we follow it."
Mr. Woolwine, however, is not giving up. He has only started. The
investigation came into his hands as unpromising as a cold cup of coffee.
The police had played with it a week before he plunged into the inquiry.
Much of the evidence has been stolen, investigators have reason to believe,
and it probably will remain stolen. The fact that Mr. Woolwine will probably
never be able to prove that evidence was made away with from the Taylor home,
taken under the very noses of the police, is not casting any gloom over his
investigation.
He has announced he is out to get Taylor's murderer and he has a
reputation for persistence and tenacity. He rested Sunday after several days
and nights of questioning witnesses, and, except for a conference of the
district attorney with his chief deputy, W. C. Doran, there was little
activity during the day and none of consequence last night. Only one police
detective was "out on the case."
Sheriff Traeger's men are still plugging along. A few days ago they
were following a warm trail. They believed they were close to information
that would net the man who could point to a straight road to the slayer. But
the trail became cold. They, like the district attorney, ran into the
impenetrable inclosure of mystery that lies around the murder like a spring
fog over San Francisco bay.
Today the wheels of the investigation will go on with their ceaseless
grinding. More members of the film colony will pass in and out of the
district attorney's office; new statements will be taken.
Neva Gerber, screen actress, who says she was engaged to Taylor two
years, may be questioned.
Miss Gerber has not known much of Taylor's recent life and movements,
not more, at any rate, than many others, probably not as much. The two
maintained their friendship up to the time of the killing and Taylor, as in
the case of scores of others, made gifts to her. A small army of film people
have reported examples of his generosity. Miss Gerber has explained checks
she received from Taylor by saying they were to pay for an automobile he sent
her as a Christmas present. She paid the installments, she stated, because
Taylor believed that if he did there would be talk that would distress her.
A man known as L. D. ("Red") Dailey slipped through the hands of the
police yesterday. He was sought as a suspect in the case and an all-night
vigil was maintained at his home in the hope that he would put in an
appearance. He did not and the police have found no trace of him.
In spite of the fact that Taylor used rather poor judgment in picking
some of his associates, inside and outside of movieland, evidence is piling
up tending to indicate that sensationalists may have maligned his character.
"Mr. Taylor was the best influence in Mabel Normand's life," was the
emphatic statement of a little film star who unburdened herself Sunday
afternoon at her home in Hollywood. "Mabel Normand will admit that.
I think that he inspired her. Their friendship was wholly platonic. I am
sure of that."
This girl who spoke bears a reputation for truth telling and
wholesomeness that is respected even among those who somehow find themselves
in the path of every morsel of movie scandal.
"Taylor was a director who was such a gentleman at all times that on no
occasion, no matter how good reason he might have to be provoked, did he ever
raise his voice to any one under his direction," she continued. "He never
spoke discourteously to a girl on location. Is it any wonder that many
people thought highly of him, that some girls grew to care for him a great
deal, that some of them probably learned to love him because he was a capable
director, a man of brains, and a gentleman? It is not at all strange."
It has developed that the hue and cry raised over the "dual life" with
which Taylor was credited during the early part of the investigation was
based on misinformation. Reports were spread broadcast that Taylor deceived
the world about his past life, that he hid in silence the fact that he had
been married, that he had a daughter in New York, that he changed his name on
leaving the East a number of years ago.
While he did not advertise to the world that he had changed his name,
that he had been married and had a daughter, Taylor did not deceive his
intimates.
A long time ago he told a few of his closest friends of his marriage, of
the fact that he had been known as William Cunningham Deane-Tanner. He told
it several times, but always to select gatherings of those he knew would not
hawk the news across every movie lot.
A star who knew Taylor only slightly and respected him bemoans the fact
that some of Taylor's friends were "yellow," as she described them, and did
not stand out in the open at the start and tell the world all they know about
Taylor.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 14, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--Four new witnesses, including a fashionably gowned woman of
the films, whose name with those of the trio brought in with her for
questioning was suppressed, were hurried into District Attorney Woolwine's
office in the last twenty-four hours and questioned in connection with the
murder of William Desmond Taylor, noted screen director.
A score of new tips have been turned in. Reports have it that a song
writer and a scenario writer who may have been connected with the drug ring
in Hollywood are being sought by deputy sheriffs and police.
Whether Mary Miles Minter, a friend of Taylor, will again be questioned
by District Attorney Woolwine is problematical. One signed statement from
her, a transcribed interview, reposes in Mr. Woolwine's strong box. That,
Miss Minter's personal attorney, John G. Mott, believes will be all that will
be required of her. Mr. Mott has questioned his client at length and is
satisfied that Miss Minter knows no more about the murder or a possible
motive than would a convent lassie who had never heard of the director.
Mabel Normand may be questioned, but not immediately. She is ill at her
home.
Will Adolph Zukor, president of the Famous Players-Lasky company, retain
William A. Pinkerton to turn loose a company of his detectives to investigate
the mysterious murder of Taylor, who put money in the pockets of the Lasky
interests with the successful photoplays he directed for them? This
question, repeatedly asked, has thus far gone unanswered.
Mr. Zukor is here, a recent arrival. Yesterday Mr. Pinkerton came from
San Francisco. He has, he told me two weeks ago in San Francisco, before
Taylor was murdered, a financial interest in Southern California studios and
a keen interest in clean movies.
No particular significance is attached as yet to the presence in Los
Angeles of the movie magnate and the head of a world-wide detective agency
just now. Mr. Pinkerton's visit to the Pacific coast has no bearing at
present on the Taylor murder case, for he went to San Francisco and then came
here on his semi-annual inspection tour of his western coast offices. But
the wiseacres profess to be certain that because of the blind alleys into
which the Taylor investigation has run, it will not be long before Mr. Zukor
will be calling on Mr. Pinkerton to talk things over. Mr. Pinkerton has
authorized no interview expressing an opinion about the murder, nor has he
made any suggestions as to how the Los Angeles authorities might proceed with
profit. He has steadfastly turned interviewers away with the remark that the
case is not his.
Followers of the inquiry have been expecting, in view of the esteem in
which Taylor was held by his employers and the financial successes he made
for them in photoplay direction, that they would employ a staff of
investigators and offer a reward for the capture of the murderer--a reward
commensurate with the sums that are spent in movieland.
"Our company will leave no stone unturned to assist the authorities in
running down the slayer of Mr. Taylor," Mr. Zukor declared in an interview,
without specifically saying what the interests he heads would do about the
matter. He then took occasion to tell of his regard for screenland.
"The movie industry is a big industry; there must be at least 50,000
persons in Los Angeles engaged in it, in one capacity or another. I am sure
that the percentage of wholesome, Godfearing men and women must be as large
in this industry as it is in any other area of endeavor."
All Hollywood is frothing at the mouth over what those who have laughed
about it before now call the "unwarranted censuring of screenland." Business
interests are coming together to tell the world that movieland has been
"maligned," to fill the mails with "the truth about Hollywood"--a truth, of
course, that will condemn all attacks on movieland as baseless, as
unjustified, as sensationally untrue, and the press agents are already oiling
up their typewriters and putting in new ribbons and doing finger exercises in
preparation for the task of salvaging the world's opinion.
Stories of dope parties, it is expected, will be called base canards.
In fact, many people from screenland who frequently attended them are already
beginning to wonder "where they get this stuff about dope, we haven't seen
any," but not all.
"Yes, I know there have been dope parties, many of them," a screen star
told me today--a star whose word is worth more than affidavits from some
persons. "I didn't go to any myself, but I'm not shutting my eyes to the
fact that others did. They've been dying out the last two or three months,
I think, though I'm not sure about it. My impression is that they were
originally started as a fad. Miss -------- and Mr. -------- were the first
ones to put them on."
So far as can be learned the young woman referred to as one of the
originators of the parties has completely dropped out of sight. She moved
four weeks ago from her last known address, an exclusive apartment, and the
movie companies that have released plays in which she appeared in the past
say they have no record of her present whereabouts.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 15, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--The outstanding development in the last twenty-four hours
in the inquiry into the murder of William Desmond Taylor, noted film
director, is that investigators from Sheriff Traeger's office are preparing
to call in for requestioning William Davis, chauffeur for Mabel Normand.
Davis drove Miss Normand to Taylor's home the night of the murder in
order that she might get a book from Taylor, and in previous examinations his
story has fully tallied with hers. Of her narrative District Attorney
Woolwine has said that he believes she has told him the truth.
What additional information, if any, the sheriff's men expect to get
from Davis they are not saying.
It is understood that Mr. Woolwine has talked with Mack Sennett, who is
ill, largely, it is presumed, to see if Sennett has any suggestions to make
that the authorities have overlooked.
The most colorful development of yesterday was the story told a reporter
for an afternoon paper in Los Angeles by a bootlegger. The hooch purveyor at
first related that he was on his way to the Taylor home the night of the
murder to make a delivery. As he drew near the house, he said, he heard a
shot and saw a woman fleeing. Not wishing to advertise to the world that he
was out with a load of liquor, he chugged away.
When the bootlegger got before Mr. Woolwine, however, he suddenly
remembered that he hadn't gone out with the load. No, it was a man working
for him.
The district attorney questioned him at length and satisfied himself
that the bootlegger had probably been drinking some of his own liquor. The
rum dispenser could not produce his man.
The third matter of public interest is the fact that the Famous Players-
Lasky company has come to and offered a reward for information leading to the
arrest and conviction of the person who killed the company's best director.
The reward posted is $2,500.
Miss Normand has had it announced through friends (she is ill at home)
that she is posting another $10,000 for the same purpose and hopes that all
of Taylor's friends will come in and make the pot large enough to attract
those now remaining silent who may have material information to divulge.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 16, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--...At the same time police instituted a citywide search for
the lieutenants of the "prince of the drug peddlers," whom they located last
night and to whom they gave the third degree. Following an old-fashioned
police grilling that lasted several hours, the chief of the southern
California dope clan, who is also the principal drug purveyor in movieland,
made admissions that will rock the movie colony and all southern California
from end to end and bring disgrace on several famous screen stars, if they
are made public in detail, or if the drug seller is handed over to the
federal authorities and taken into court.
...The "prince of the drug peddlers" was nothing short of a rag when
detectives finished with him late last night. They had been trailing him for
days, it turns out.
Before the examination was concluded he admitted the identity of some of
his customers. Confession was wrung from him that he had provided drugs for
a screen star who was known as one of Taylor's best friends.
The dope chief would not admit he had ever sold drugs to Taylor,
although he did say that he knew the director after a fashion.
William Davis, chauffeur for Mabel Normand, continued to stick to his
story. When requestioned by the sheriff's men he could not be shaken.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 17, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--...Police detectives today, with the precision of bill
collectors and some of the doggedness of book agents, began a systematic
check of all the outstanding loan transactions in which Taylor was involved,
hoping thereby to find convincing proof of that will-o'-the-wisp, the motive
that prompted the slaying.
As they began their hunt reports from police headquarters said that
Taylor went further than keeping an open pocketbook for those who needed
financial assistance, that, in fact, he maintained "on the side" a rather
substantial money-loaning business. To many he loaned money solely as a
matter of friendship or sentiment, to others, the police said, he made loans
as a straight matter of business risk and charged interest.
...According to the police Taylor purchased a quantity of choice
liquors, part of which he kept for his own use and part of which he passed
along as gifts to his close friends and intimates. His beverage purchases
are said to have eaten many a large hole in his salary, for he would have
none but bonded liquor of the finest brands.
Three sweethearts of Edward F. Sands, Taylor's missing former butler-
secretary, were questioned late last night. While the search for Sands has
relaxed to a certain extent, investigators are still looking for him,
thinking that if he is found he may be forced to give up new details of
Taylor's private life that will throw some light on the murder.
Detective Captain Adams is a persistent believer in his original theory
--that Sands makes a better suspect in connection with the murder than any
one who has been mentioned in the investigation, either publicly or behind
closed doors. His subordinates, however, do not wholly agree with him in the
light of developments during the last few days.
None of Sands' sweethearts has ever appeared before a movie camera.
They are young women living in scattered parts of Los Angeles, who became
impressed with Sands' knowledge of life in scree
nland and with his
lavishness. One of them is said to have profited liberally in the way of
merchandise, principally lingerie, that Sands ordered at Los Angeles
department stores while in Taylor's employ and charged to his employer. This
girl for a time maintained an expensive apartment and lived a gay life, in
which Sands figured conspicuously before he is alleged to have departed with
several thousand dollars worth of Taylor's valuables.
Since Sands disappeared each of the girls told the police he has not
communicated with her and she has no idea where he is hiding, whether he is
in the United States or had fled across the Mexican border.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 21, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--Police began today a citywide search for a notorious negro
drug peddler who has had the run of movieland, striking what they regarded as
one of the warmest trails thus far uncovered in their investigation of the
murder of William Desmond Taylor, famous film director.
The drug peddler is said to have supplied drugs to a number of movie
folk under Taylor's direction, and less than a week before the murder,
according to the report on which city detectives and investigators from
District Attorney Woolwine's office started out today, Taylor caught the
peddler on the property of the movie company with which he was associated as
head director. He ordered the peddler off the lot. The peddler, with
"friends at court" among film actors and actresses of importance, is said to
have been defiant. Taylor blazed:
"Get out of here, you son of hell, and stay out, or I'll soil my hands
on you. Get out of here, now, before I wring your neck," Taylor exclaimed.
The drug peddler moved off and finally left. He was muttering threats
as he left. When the report of the encounter reached the ears of police
early today they went to the known haunts of the peddler. The peddler could
not be found.
"We haven't seen him lately," his friends told the detectives.
More associates of the peddler were interviewed. The police soon
determined that the peddler disappeared either the day before the murder or
the morning that Taylor was found dead in his home, shot the night before.
"This begins to look something like a case again," a detective said.
"This is the best clue we have struck in the three weeks we've been working
on this case."
According to the police report, Henry Peavey, Taylor's colored valet,
knows the drug peddler, has seen him about movie studios, hanging around
movie lots, talking to players of each sex. This fact is regarded by the
police as highly important.
From the inner precincts of movieland there came to the police today
still another report that they regard as material in the light of the
disappearance of the drug peddler. From a movie studio came the report that
Taylor, a short time before his murder, had become so incensed with the
growing use of drugs among players throughout movieland that he contemplated
making an expose of the condition. How far this intention spread among those
who are addicted to drugs has not yet been learned.
One report to the police, it is said today at headquarters, had it that
Taylor's indignation bubbled over after he had seen personally and had
received reliable reports of a number of players reporting for duty of a
morning at their studios heavy lidded and sleepy, jumpy nerved and physically
incapable of going on the job and doing good work solely because of the "dope
parties" they had attended the night before.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 22, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--Conviction that solution of the murder of William Desmond
Taylor, noted film director, slain Feb. 1, will be found rooted deep in the
narcotic traffic that honeycombs movieland is growing daily among some of the
investigators.
...It was the pink robe de nuit that took the first trick in the William
Desmond Taylor murder. Then came the filmy bit of handkerchief, edged with
lace. Even the "blessed baby" letters were forgotten when the watch that
everyone had handled was discovered--silent, stopped.
Now it's a ghost that has the center of the stage, a ghost needing a
shave that Henry Peavey, the negro valet of the noted film director,
encountered.
There is much indignation. District Attorney Woolwine is very angry.
Last night late he issued a statement. He bitterly assailed the unofficial
investigator who introduced Peavey to the ghost. The prosecutor is
seriously, painstakingly trying to solve a murder mystery. The unofficial
investigators may have been trying to do the same.
The unofficial investigators called on Peavey formally at his flat.
They had the idea that Peavey had not told the police, the newspaper
reporters, the sheriff and Mr. Woolwine all that he knew about his employer's
murder.
The clock pointed close to midnight. The unofficial investigators
hustled Peavey into a car. It went careening through the night to Hollywood
cemetery. It stopped before a grim vault that rose gloomily before Peavey.
The valet knew that vault. He had seen Taylor's body taken inside.
The unofficial investigators were busy--quite mysterious, but very
businesslike. They prodded Peavey and their prisoner, got out of the car.
They drew back, leaving him standing alone. A white form rose, a great white
thing, a broad white thing that seemed to slide through the very doors of the
vault. A ghost. It paused. It raised an arm. It spoke to Peavey, spoke in
tones of the grave.
"Henry," the voice intoned, "I am William Desmond Taylor's spirit."
Peavey quivered.
"Henry," the voice continued, "tell them, tell these men all about my
murder."
Peavey shook.
"Henry," the voice from the grave spoke a third time. "Tell these men
everything you know about the dastardly way I was killed."
Peavey shook again: his whole body shook--shook with laughter. He
laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks.
The unofficial investigators looked very sick indeed.
"Men," said Peavey, "when do we eat."...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 23, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--A trail of morphine, cocaine, and heroin, is being followed
by investigators of the murder of William Desmond Taylor, noted film
director. Over the crime that has held the country's interest for three
weeks has been raised the skull and crossbones banner of narcotics. Drugs
and fear played the leading roles in the murder.
The theory, previously advanced, that Taylor declared war on the dope
ring that has been fattening on movieland and paid with his life in so doing,
has blazed to new life and is coming to be commonly accepted by
investigators.
...The sheriff's men are searching for eleven dope peddlers, two of them
women and one of these a well-known actress, who conducted an opium den in
the vicinity of Hollywood. Unofficial investigators have been searching for
this woman and her partner, the originators of the "sleigh riding" or dope
parties in movieland, for the last two weeks and have thus far found no trace
of them. The woman in question was once employed by the Lasky interests, for
whom Taylor was chief film director. She and her partner have vanished and
with them have disappeared every well-known dope peddler doing a big business
in Hollywood.
One drug peddler has a beautiful home. He has an expensive car and
lives a gay life on his earnings, he confessed to an official. That official
says that he never has gone beyond the organization of one prominent movie
man to sell a sniff of cocaine, an ounce of heroin or enough morphine to load
a hypodermic needle.
Ten moving-picture actresses, all of them stars whose faces look out
from every newspaper and magazine in the country, pay approximately $1,000
each in "hush money" each month that one peddler knows of, he told an
official who cornered him today. This is not $10,000 for drugs, but $10,000
hush money; for drugs additional cash is paid.
"The situation was beginning to appall Taylor," an investigator said
today. "He was sick and disgusted. So far as we can learn, he intended to
squeal on all the peddlers he knew. He even meant to name actors and
actresses who had become addicts.
"He had gone the limit trying to reform some of them. One of his
proteges, a well-known actress, took the cure two years ago. For a time
after that it was thought she was going straight, that we had laid off.
Taylor, so far as I can learn, pleaded with her constantly, trying to get her
to quit and leave dope alone. He succeeded for a while, but his influence
didn't last.
"We rounded up one peddler and before we finished with him he had told
of a quantity of heroin delivered to this actress a short time ago."
One peddler who is said to have supplied this actress with her drugs is
reported to have fled to Chicago or points east of there. He is a song
writer who has been writing gags for vaudeville.
Another drug peddler, previously reported as being hunted, is a negro
who had a pass to one studio in movieland that actresses procured for him.
He is still missing. This peddler was ordered off the property where Taylor
was employed, according to a report to the police, and vowed vengeance.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 24, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--...Had anything been found tending to show that Fields told
the truth, a famous moving-picture actress would probably be in a cell today.
If investigators ever do corroborate Fields' story that a dope ring slew
Taylor because he was making her quit drugs and peddlers feared the loss of
the $2,000 a month she spent on heroin and morphine, the actress will
probably be placed under arrest at once. Nothing but the fact that
insufficient information to warrant a severe examination could be gathered
has prevented the authorities from locking her up and giving her a grilling.
New evidence has been received by the sheriff that Taylor was taking
steps before his murder to drive dope peddlers out of Hollywood. An
assistant United States attorney said last night that Taylor conferred with
him about it and a federal investigator was assigned to the case. The
attorney, Thomas Green, said Taylor first visited him two years ago with a
complaint about the number of drug addicts.
No one has ever made an effort to wipe out the drug traffic among movie
players, except two federal inspectors, and they were transferred to the
Mexican border when their activities imperiled a nationally known hero of the
films right at the start of their inquiry. It is reported he is returning to
Los Angeles and a ring of movie players is quaking.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
February 25, 1922
Richard Burritt
CHICAGO DAILY NEWS
Los Angeles--Sheriff Traeger's men have lost all faith--they never had
much--in the confession of Harry M. Fields in Detroit regarding the murder of
William Desmond Taylor, noted film director. Fields contradicted himself
vitally. The sheriff's men have tried unsuccessfully to corroborate a single
point in the story told by Fields to Sheriff Coffin of Wayne County,
Michigan.
Investigators under Undersheriff Biscailuz are retrailing old clues that
they put aside while they gave Fields' narrative serious consideration. They
are back in the haunts of the dope peddlers, interviewing, checking and
rechecking, cataloguing every scrap of information that may prove of the
slightest bearing on the case.
Deputy sheriffs have located every known male peddler who has not fled
to escape the glare of investigation and are now questioning the woman
peddlers.
"It's probably hard to believe, but there are just as many women
peddling dope among movie players as there are men," one investigator said
today.
"If we could have stepped into this case in the beginning and slapped
some of the witnesses in the case in jail the murder, I believe, would not
have been a mystery very long. But all the witnesses have had three weeks in
which to get organized, and it will be a hard job breaking down the defenses
they have put up."
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For more information about Taylor, see
WILLIAM DESMOND TAYLOR: A DOSSIER (Scarecrow Press, 1991)
Back issues of Taylorology are available via Gopher or FTP at
gopher.etext.org
in the directory Zines/Taylorology
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