Beverly Hills Confidential : A Century of Stars, Scandals and Murders Read online

  Contents

  Introduction

  The 1910s and 1920s1912The Beverly Hills Hotel • Trouble At The

  1918The First Sensational Divorce • Scorned

  1920The Beverly Hills Speedway Tragedy • Che

  1922The Secret Attic Lover • Crazy Love Tria

  1925The Acid-Throwing Bride • Husband Blinde

  1927“America’s Sweetheart” Kidnap Plot • Pic

  Other Stalker Targets

  Clara Bow

  Sylvia Sidney

  Gloria Vanderbilt

  1929“Feminine Air Cop” Crashes—Nude • Last-M

  1929Murder at Greystone Mansion • Who Killed

  The 1930s1932Screen Siren Jean Harlow’s New Husband Dea

  1933The Sneaky Butler • Mysterious Burglary

  1935“Last Warning” Carved in Skin • Chilling

  1936The Father Divine Cult Invades Mansion •

  1939The Case of the “Come Up And See Me” Scam

  The 1940s1940Beverly Hills Athletic Club Scandal • Tr

  1942Charlie Chaplin Paternity Scandal • Is H

  1944“Mexican Spitfire” Kills Self and Unborn C

  1946The Borrowed Baby Bank Robbery • Newlywe

  1947Who Killed Mobster Bugsy Siegel? • Casan

  The 1950s1950sCharity Scammer’s Tragic End • The Vivia

  1951Jealous Producer Shoots Wife’s Agent • R

  1951“World’s Most Beautiful Stripper” in Court

  1955The Ax-Murdering Maid • Deadly Row Over

  1955The “Fur King” Al Teitelbaum Case • Teno

  1958Actress’s Lover Knifed to Death • A Moth

  The 1960s and 1970s1965Cinderella Songwriter and Wife Shot By Son

  1966Tycoon Kidnap Plot Backfires • Informant

  Other High-Profile Kidnappings1967 Eleven-Year Old Son of CEO Kidnapped

  1968 Four-Year-Old Son of Banker Kidnapped

  1969 Nineteen-Year-Old Stanford Student Ki

  1966Frank Sinatra Polo Lounge Fight • Millio

  1977Buried in a Ferrari • An Eccentric Last

  1979Neutrogena CEO’s Triple-Murder Tragedy •

  The 1980s and 1990s1984The BBC: Billionaire Boys Club • Cult-li

  1986The Deadly Van Cleef and Arpels Robbery •

  1988Pawn Shop Double Murder • Female Killer

  1989The Menendez Murders • Scheming Sons Exe

  1993Heidi Fleiss’ Hooker Ring Busted • Madam

  1993Hotel Chef Murders Wife? • A Beverly Hil

  1998The Black-and-White Robbers • Makeup to

  The 2000s2001Actress Winona Ryder Caught Shoplifting •

  2002Dr. Laura’s Mom Found Dead • Body Mummif

  2008Model Murders Husband • “Sugar Daddy” Ki

  2007Fashion Designer Anand Jon Sex Scandal •

  2008Actor Mark Ruffalo’s Brother Shot • Russ

  2010Movie Producer Son Ambushed, Killed • Ju

  2010Murder on Sunset Boulevard • The Ronni C

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Dedicated to the men and women of the Beverly Hills Police Department, who have given the very best of themselves in serving and protecting the citizens of Beverly Hills for more than one hundred years, and to the journalists of days gone by who got the facts right.

  The very name Beverly Hills conjures images of glamour, wealth, and success; in reality, the place has more than its share of malice, mayhem and, yes, even murder. In the breathtaking, and sometimes-macabre pages of Beverly Hills Confidential, the underbelly of the tummy-tucked gets exposed. Straight from the files of the Beverly Hills Police Department come the scoops the media often missed, and many never-before-published images enhance the blood-curdling accounts. Meet a Hollywood wannabe—at least she’s finally a cover girl, now—sprawled on a gurney, but what’s that mysterious message carved on her back? See Bugsy Siegel’s gruesome stare, his eyeballs shot out of their sockets; and a dead macaw in its ornate cage, its silence the clue that led investigators to the mummified remains of a talk-radio icon’s mother.

  In Beverly Hills Confidential, investigative reporter Barbara Schroeder and BHPD CSI inspector Clark Fogg re-examine the sensational and never-to be-forgotten stories of the past century, such as the Charlie Chaplin paternity trial, and the mystery surrounding the death (was it murder?) of Jean Harlow’s M-G-M-mogul husband. Revisit the most horrific crimes: the heinous Menendez murders; the ill-fated Van Cleef & Arpels heist; the much-publicized shooting of high-powered publicist Ronni Chasen. Beverly Hills Confidential shows how greed, jealousy, passion, corruption, and sometimes just simple bad luck, turned the once-idyllic movie star sanctuary into a haven for headlines.

  With an impressive response time of around two minutes, the BHPD has established itself as a protective force to be reckoned with. Over the last century, crime in Beverly Hills has consistently been international fodder. From a murder-suicide at Greystone Mansion in the Twenties—was it a gay love affair or a political payback?—to a fashion designer-turned covert molester who catered to the contemporary Who’s Who of 90210. Then there’s the nude female police aviatrix falling from the sky, and a millionaire madam running a stable of beautiful women and selling sought-after drugs—the BHPD has seen it all. Now, for the first time ever, the renowned department has opened its files to share the captivating chronicle of a city and its crime stories.

  Award-winning investigative journalist Barbara Schroeder and celebrated BHPD Senior Forensic Specialist Clark Fogg have crossed paths on many a case. In Beverly Hills Confidential, they partner their efforts and expertise to inform and entertain readers with thrilling and often-morbid misdeeds woven into a history of the land of luxe.

  Beverly Hills Confidential

  A Century of

  Stars, Scandals

  and

  Murders

  Barbara Schroeder & Clark Fogg

  Introduction

  We met because of a murder—but not just any murder; it was the cold-blooded execution of a highly respected publicist gunned down on Sunset Boulevard in the heart of Beverly Hills. Our first meeting began with the classic reporter-investigator exchange:

  “May I see that file?”

  “No.”

  We were both familiar with this dance. Me, the nosy investigative reporter, and Clark Fogg, senior forensic specialist for the Beverly Hills Police Department, a gatekeeper of secrets at one of the most storied police departments in the world. Oh, the tales he could tell…

  I was trying to find out what really happened the night Hollywood publicity agent Ronni Chasen was murdered. The police department said the classy blonde’s execution was simply a random robbery gone bad; the killer was a transient on a bike looking to rob someone. Case closed. Legions of doubters, myself included, were suspicious. After all, it seemed odd that the gunman was on a bike. Plus, a report claimed bullets from the killer’s gun didn’t match those found in the dead woman’s body. The white vinyl “Chasen Murder Book” was right on top of Fogg’s file cabinet, just out of my reach.

  I reminded him that our paths had crossed on numerous headline-grabbing cases, like the Menendez murders, the sex-capades of Madam Heidi Fleiss, and the Winona Ryder shoplifting saga. But no matter how I tried to establish a rapport, Fogg would not let me see that Chasen file. There would be no exclusives at this time.

  I got up to leave when another “Murder Book” caught my eye: the Greystone Mansion killings from way back in 1929. This was the city’s first blockbuster crime.
A filthy-rich father builds his son the biggest mansion in Beverly Hills and, just a few months later, the son is found dead there, lying near his equally dead male secretary. Was it a case of a clandestine gay love affair gone bad or an anger-fueled bloodbath over a political scandal? The answer, a holy grail in Beverly Hills crime reporting, could be inside that file. “May I look at that?” I asked, my calm demeanor belying my pounding heart.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Depends on what you want it for. But first, take a look at this.” I was intrigued; he unlocked a door marked “PRIVATE.” Inside was a treasure trove: archives containing a century’s worth of evidence and details of the dark underbelly of glamorous Beverly Hills. I pulled out some yellowed and brittle newspaper articles from a file marked “old.” They were sensational stories, now long forgotten, like the one about the pretty twenty-five-year-old maid who hacked her boss to death after an argument over how to cut a roast. Or the story of the nymphomaniac wife who “Hides Teenage Lover in Attic.” Or yet another story of a female police pilot who was sunbathing nude—midair—on her plane’s wing, and crashed.

  The stories became even more intriguing: a cult in the 1930s invades a Beverly Hills mansion; an actress known as the “Mexican Spitfire” kills herself and her unborn child; and, buried in the Bugsy Siegel mobster murder file, a new clue about the never-solved whodunit. Next, Clark showed me never-before-released evidence from the 1950s slaying of playboy Johnny Stompanato: did his lover, the famous actress Lana Turner, twist the knife into his gut, or was it her fourteen-year-old daughter? I saw heartbreaking photos of the mysterious death of the mother of radio talk-show host Dr. Laura—mom was mummified, dead for months, the details cringe-inducing. There were files bulging with never-published crime scene photos and police reports of recent cases that slipped by the media, like the one where a beautiful model murders her sugar-daddy husband while he’s trying to crawl away from a relentless barrage of bullets.

  But most chilling of all—we found a negative tucked inside an unmarked folder, no information attached. Holding it up to the bright lights in the CSI lab, we looked at the image—it was a show-stopper. A young blonde, clutching a Kleenex, was laying face down, nude on a gurney. Covers were pulled back to reveal the chilling words “Last Warning” scrawled backwards on her back. Did someone carve the letters into her skin? Who was she? It would take the combined efforts of Fogg’s CSI expertise and our persistent research to find the answer.

  Our partnership had begun—a collaboration that’s turned into this chronicle of an unprecedented century of crazy crimes, salacious scandals, and gruesome murders in a city that has lured most of the richest, most eccentric, and famous residents the world has known.

  I had one last question for Fogg: would he agree to tell all about the Ronni Chasen case? He nodded. Time to set the record straight. As the great quote from a gangster movie goes, “There is a line you cross, you don’t never come back from. I’m going along for the ride, the whole ride.”

  We hope you enjoy the journey.

  Barbara Schroeder and Clark Fogg

  For more photos and information, visit www.beverlyhillsconfidential.com

  AND SO IT BEGINS...

  The 1910s and 1920s

  Beverly Hills. Just the name alone conjures up images of glamour and glitz. But there was a time, long ago in the early 1900s, when this town was but a glimmer in real estate developers’ eyes: no mansions, no fancy stores, no tourists. Just lima bean fields and a lonely, dusty train station stop. The only stars to see were the ones twinkling in the night sky.

  In fact, you could say things didn’t get exciting around here until the first traffic accident in 1910. A couple of those newfangled driving machines, Model T Fords, crash over on the newly paved Rodeo Drive. It is the first time a ticket is issued, written up by the first marshal in town, Augustus Niestrum.

  Even a decade later, in 1919, it’s still such a rural area that there isn’t even a “pokey” (jail) nearby. If someone commits a crime, the new marshal in town, Charlie Blair, takes the bad guy to his house and Mrs. Blair rustles up a meal and a blanket for an overnight stay. If the bad guy is really rotten, say, a bank robber, Blair promptly puts the perpetrator on a Pacific Electric train and ships him off to the downtown Los Angeles county jail.

  Fast-forward a few more years and things are changing dramatically. No more bean fields; movie stars and moguls have started moving in. They love this rural and peaceful enclave just west of Hollywood, perfectly situated “Between the City and the Sea” as the brochures boast.

  Over on Summit Drive, north of Sunset Boulevard, the first movie star mansion pops up—it’s home to the world’s original celebrity couple: Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks. She is “America’s Sweetheart,” the most popular actress of the silent movie era. He is equally famous, a swashbuckling lover who performs his own stunts in movies like Robin Hood (1922). Gossip columnists, known as “sob sisters,” breathlessly chronicle the couple’s scandalous love affair (both are married to other people).

  When the lovers finally get their respective divorces and move into their grand manor, they instantly bestow an aura of stardust on the city. The press quickly dubs the place “Pickfair,” a magnificent home, with two separate wings, five guest bedrooms, a bowling alley, quarters for fourteen live-in servants, and the area’s first indoor swimming pool. Pickfair becomes known as the “White House of the West,” as the couple entertains dignitaries, kings and queens, and luminaries such as physicist Albert Einstein, aviator Charles Lindbergh, and baseball great Babe Ruth.

  Suddenly, Beverly Hills is on everyone’s most wanted list. From 1920 through 1925, the population explodes from seven hundred residents to seven thousand five hundred. Mansions spring up everywhere. A rambling bridle path is built, and the city gets its first movie house in 1925, the East Indian-themed Beverly Theatre. By the end of the 1920s, the population more than doubles to seventeen thousand.

  The town’s first honorary mayor is announced in 1927, Will Rogers. The cowboy humorist catapults Beverly Hills and its fabulous image onto the national stage. Rogers is the most widely read newspaper columnist of his time, and his dateline reads Beverly Hills.

  Also in 1927, Marshal Charlie Blair gets a new title: he’s now the first official Chief of Police of Beverly Hills. Blair is a great leader, initiating policies—like fingerprinting all solicitors and salesmen coming into town—that help launch the city’s reputation as one of America’s safest places to live. His officers are the first in the nation to train at pistol ranges, so they become expert marksmen.

  Around the city, Frisbee-sized red and green lights appear on top of tall structures: water towers, utility poles, and even mansions. It’s a crime-fighting system. If the red lights are turned on, street patrol officers rush to the nearest callbox to check-in with headquarters. If the green lights start to glow, detectives respond immediately. Red and green lights both flashing? Emergency! Calling all cops.

  Prohibition presents some of the first challenges for the department: it’s hard to stop the flow of illegal liquor in a town like this, a town where people have enough money to buy anything, and their homes come complete with secret panels to hide the stuff. Disguised doors around town often lead to clandestine, custom speakeasies. But police quickly shut down several shady and ingenious operations, like the one where a bold bootlegger fakes a funeral, using a hearse and a procession of cars to deliver bottles of illegal “hooch.”

  Sadly, it is also liquor that causes the first tragedy for the police force. On April 9, 1925, thirty-one-year-old motorcycle officer Jesse Farr is driving over a Pacific Electric railroad crossing on Wilshire Boulevard when a wrong-way driver in a Cadillac smashes into the officer’s motorcycle and flees the scene. Bystanders pull the officer from the wreckage; one of his legs has been severed. Farr dies in the hospital the next day, about the same time fellow officers are arresting the driver of the car, who admits he was very drunk and speeding at about fifty mile
s per hour.

  Shortly after this incident, the police department deals with the death of another thirty-one-year-old: 1920s actor and sex symbol Rudolph Valentino. The “Latin Lover” dies suddenly in New York due to complications from abdominal surgery. After a memorial service there, the body of “the celluloid aphrodisiac” is brought via train cross-country to Beverly Hills for a second funeral at the Church of the Good Shepherd on Santa Monica Boulevard at Rodeo Drive.

  Valentino had come home (but as for most stars of the day, “home” was a loose term—he’d only lived in his beloved “Falcon Lair” Beverly Hills estate for about a year before his death). Grieving, weeping fans surround the cathedral, mourners overflowing into the streets as police arrive for their first crowd-control assignment—a sure sign that life, and police work, in this town will never be simple again.