The Mammoth Book of Hollywood Scandals Page 9

  Clara sent back Richman’s ring and he later attempted some revenge by beginning a romance with actress Lina Basquette, declaring that while he had seen Clara Bow during a recent visit, “she means absolutely nothing to me any more”. This cutting remark was obviously aimed at Clara Bow’s heart, but it ultimately missed, as by this time she had met Rex Bell, the love of her life. Clara described him as, “A boy out on the coast in pictures [who] I like awfully well. He played my lead in the last picture I made. Gee, he’s a swell fella!”

  Rex’s love enabled her not only to settle down at last, but also gave her two sons and a life in the country away from the Hollywood glare of publicity. But first she would have to endure another year of unwanted headlines, in the shape of a very public lawsuit and, sadly, a nervous breakdown, both of which are explored in a separate chapter within this book.

  7

  Lottie Pickford: Mary’s Naughty Sister

  When one hears the name Pickford, one automatically thinks of America’s Sweetheart, Mary, or “Pickfair”, the studio and home she built with her husband, Douglas Fairbanks. Today the name Lottie Pickford is almost completely unknown, and yet in the 1920s and 1930s she caused uproar with her wild parties and multiple marriages.

  Born as Charlotte Smith on 9 June 1893, Lottie was exceptionally close to her brother, Jack, but not so much to her sister, Mary, seeing her as controlling and far too strict for her liking. The children all started acting at a very early age and moved from their native Canada to make their name in New York. The siblings all won parts, but Mary was considered a star while the others merely tagged along on the back of her success, happy with whatever part they were able to obtain.

  In 1915 Lottie married Alfred Rupp, a New York broker, and shortly after gave birth to a daughter whom she chose to name Mary after her sister, despite their apparent distance from each other. The marriage was short-lived, however, and the couple divorced in 1920, which resulted in the first real scandal in Lottie’s life when she decided to hand over her daughter to be raised by her own mother, Charlotte. Why Lottie would chose to do this is not known, though some believe it was because she was by this time heavily into drugs and alcohol.

  To avoid any confusion with her aunt Mary, the child was renamed Gwynne and officially adopted by Charlotte Pickford in August 1926. Newspapers were aghast, enjoying the idea that some unusual relationships had been created with this move, including the fact that the young girl was now her own foster-aunt. She was also, according to newspapers, the niece and foster-sister to Mary Pickford, and niece and sister-in-law to Douglas Fairbanks. Reporters also relished in wondering why the child was given up in the first place, though Lottie stayed quiet on the matter, never publicly stating why the child was being raised by her mother – and later her sister – instead of herself.

  Another marriage followed in 1922 to the actor Allan Forrest, and then another scandal hit in 1926 when Lottie was named in divorce proceedings between a woman called Thelma Leonard and her husband Charles. Apparently Mr Leonard had taken his wife to one of Lottie’s renowned wild parties, where the actress had reportedly got drunk and pulled Mrs Leonard to one side. “I am not in love with your husband,” declared Lottie, which immediately made Mrs Leonard highly suspicious since she had never accused her of being so in the first place.

  Needless to say the Leonards’ marriage soon broke up after this incident, and Lottie’s followed shortly after. She then went on to become one of the most scandalous actresses of 1928.

  Lottie Pickford had many friends, as her frequent parties proved. During this time she became acquainted with Jack Daugherty, one-time husband of Barbara La Marr, and the two attended numerous parties during 1928. On one November evening, the pair teamed up with a friend and the three attended a party together, where they all revelled until the friend decided to call it a night, followed by Daugherty and Pickford at approximately 3 a.m.

  Driving through the streets of East Los Angeles, the car they were travelling in unfortunately suffered a flat tyre. The couple stopped to investigate and as they were examining the damage, four men approached them, knocked Daugherty unconscious and stole $15 from his pocket. Then, they dragged Lottie into their car and drove off.

  However, they got more than they bargained for with Lottie Pickford, and while being driven through the dark streets, she managed to hide some of her rings in her shoes for safekeeping. Unfortunately she could not hide everything, though, and a diamond bracelet was later badly bent when the gang unsuccessfully attempted to take it from her wrist.

  The car drove through the night until reaching a secluded spot, where the attackers bundled the actress out of the car, tore at her clothes, physically assaulted her and stole some money. Lottie fought back, however, shouting at them in their native Spanish and begging them to take her back to her car. This was a brave and successful decision on Pickford’s part, as shocked at hearing the woman speak Spanish, the gang leader seemed to feel a twinge of remorse and immediately told the other men to let her go, which they did. The leader then bundled her into the car and drove back to where they had left Daugherty; he was found still sitting at the side of the road, slowly coming round from the beating.

  Once reunited, the pair somehow managed to drive back home and report the incident to the police, requesting that the matter be kept quiet to avoid any press attention. They then assisted them in trying to find the spot where the mugging and kidnapping had happened, though ultimately the pair were unable to make any sense of the streets and failed to find the exact location.

  Despite their appeal to keep the episode quiet, as with most things related to Lottie’s life, the story hit the news. It all came out several days later and Lottie posed for pictures while declaring that the robbers had bruised her wrists, ankles and legs while kicking her body “until it was a mass of bruises”. The incident made headlines across the United States, but it was not to be the last scandal she endured in 1928.

  On 5 November, gambler and rumoured Mafia member Arnold Rothstein died after being shot the day before at New York’s Park Central Hotel. Several weeks later, detectives discovered Lottie’s name on promissory notes for $100,000 in the apartment of Rothstein’s friend, Sidney Stager. Unfortunately for Pickford, Stager also happened to be the head of an international dope syndicate and the discovery of her name in his files once again brought her name to everyone’s lips for all the wrong reasons. Police tried unsuccessfully to tie in her kidnapping with the murder of Rothstein, and although she initially chose to keep quiet about the incident, Lottie eventually gave a statement, declaring: “Why, how ridiculous, I didn’t even know the man and as for writing a note for $100,000 – don’t be foolish.”

  Christmas Eve soon arrived and Lottie decided to host one of her wild parties at her home at 6622 Iris Drive, Los Angeles, which was attended by her friends and admirers Daniel E. Jaeger and Jack Daugherty. The party lived up to Lottie’s reputation and quickly became so out of hand that fed-up neighbours called the police to complain about the noise. Detectives arrived at the home but were more interested in determining whether or not the alcohol laws had been violated, rather than noise pollution. However, their investigations into the alcohol situation petered out and the party seemed to calm down. The police asked the group to keep the noise down, before heading off into the night.

  Unfortunately for Lottie, not long after the police departed, friends Jack Daugherty and Daniel E. Jaeger decided to have a stern talk with one another about their attentions towards the actress. A fight broke out on the lawn between the jealous pair, which climaxed when Daugherty sank his teeth into the middle finger of Jaeger’s right hand, almost severing it completely.

  The resulting fracas once again attracted the neighbours’ attention and the police were called again, arriving just after Daugherty had left, last seen slipping out of a side door with other parting guests. The detectives discovered Jaeger bleeding profusely and swiftly sent him to hospital, where he refused to make any formal co
mplaints against his love-rival. Several weeks later Jaeger was arrested on suspicion of forgery, which, although completely unrelated to the Pickford party, nevertheless dragged Lottie’s name into the mud once again.

  When Lottie spoke of the party incident to reporters, she tried to laugh the entire thing off, claiming, “Oh the boys just raised a little whoopee, but they’re good friends now.” She also tried to assure them that she had not been privy to most of the row, had no idea what the “scrap” was about and, besides, “I didn’t get here until it was about over.”

  Detectives continued to investigate the incident and neighbours told them that they had been frequently disturbed at night by noise coming from Lottie Pickford’s home. On New Year’s Eve 1928, however, the case was closed when the complainants were unable to identify for sure that it really was Lottie making the noise in the house; an outcome that must have frustrated the entire neighbourhood.

  After the scandals of the last year, Lottie decided to settle down in July 1929 and married an undertaker, Russell O. Gillard, although her sister, Mary Pickford, declined to attend the wedding. Perhaps she had heard that when filing for a marriage certificate, Lottie gave her name as Lotta Rupp and then became furious when she was recognized by reporters: “I don’t want anything about this in the papers,” she shouted. “I was trying to keep this marriage secret.” Then quite bizarrely she turned to the head of the marriage licence bureau and angrily told her, “I’ve changed my mind, tear that application up.”

  Her shocked fiancé tried to calm her down, and as she left the building Lottie shouted back to the registrar, “All right, let it ride!” She then demanded to know how the reporters knew that Lotta Rupp was the same person as Lottie Pickford, and when they explained that her parents’ names were the same as the ones given on her last licence, she was unfazed. “That’s just a coincidence,” she snarled. It was not the most positive of starts for a happy marriage and, sure enough, three years later she filed for divorce, charging cruelty and claiming that her husband embarrassed her, called her vile names and abandoned her at the home of friends.

  In June 1933, before the divorce from Gillard had even come through, Lottie wedded another admirer, John Locke, paying no attention at all to the fact that she was now a bigamist. “If this gets back to Los Angeles there’ll be trouble,” she laughed. “But of course the California authorities must prove where our secret marriage took place before they can separate us,” she added.

  By 1935 Lottie’s party days were almost over and she spent much of her last years in and out of hospital, battling influenza among other ailments. Finally, on 9 December 1936, she suffered a massive heart attack and passed away at her home at 577 Burlington Avenue, Los Angeles. She was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park where 150 friends attended a private ceremony to say goodbye. In life she had been an outrageous figure, never far from scandal but loved by her friends and associates. Sadly, in death she is all but forgotten, her colourful life being overshadowed by her estranged sister Mary’s legacy, which continues to this very day.

  8

  Christine Collins and the Wineville Chicken Coop Murders

  Christine Collins may not have starred in a movie, won an Oscar or received a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, but her story is most certainly tied to the world of Hollywood scandals, due partly to her living in Los Angeles, and because of one young boy’s obsession with film star Tom Mix. But before we can talk about that, we must first learn a little more about Christine Collins and the tragic circumstances that led to her losing everything during a dreadful, dark period in 1928.

  Born in California during 1888, Christine Ida Dunne grew up to marry a gentleman by the name of Walter J. Collins, aka Conrad Collins, and settled in Los Angeles where she went on to give birth to a son, also named Walter, in September 1918.

  Unfortunately, life was not easy for Christine Collins, as her husband did not prove to be the reliable person for whom she had hoped. He had previously spent two terms in prison, though had conveniently forgotten to tell his unsuspecting fiancée this information at the time they were married. There could have been two reasons for this: either Walter Senior wanted to forget his past and move on as a law-abiding citizen, or else he wanted to keep his prior indiscretions quiet as he intended to go on with his life of crime in the future.

  Sadly, it would seem that it was the latter. Walter Sr had no intention of becoming a respectable citizen just because he was a husband and father, and he was unable – or unwilling – to hold down a regular job. It didn’t come as a surprise when the couple’s finances quickly began to spiral out of control and Christine was left wondering what on earth she had got herself into.

  Added to her worries came news that Walter Sr’s mother had fallen ill, which seems to have been a catalyst for him to gear up his shady business deals by gaining employment with an illegal drinking establishment. As if this wasn’t bad enough, he then took the decision to be part of a robbery, which ultimately would be Walter Sr’s undoing and led to his third incarceration, this time for forty years at Folsom Prison, Represa, California.

  Christine was heartbroken but in spite of everything she still continued to believe her husband was innocent and assured everyone – rather short-sightedly, it would seem – that in all the years she had known Walter, he had always lived a straight life and been a good provider. When friends pointed out his many shortcomings, Christine brushed them aside, saying that perhaps he had temporarily lost his mind as a result of the debts and worry over his mother.

  In spite of what the woman believed about her husband, the simple fact was that she was now the breadwinner of the family, and Christine very quickly had to come to terms with this fact. The mother of one had always been of a nervous disposition but now – in between bouts of sickness – she acquired a job as a supervisor at a telephone exchange where she was often forced to work long into the evening hours, just to make ends meet.

  In spite of her nerves and the exhaustion she felt as a single, working mother, Christine was a very determined lady and took it upon herself to write endless letters to the prison where Walter Sr was held, begging officials to obtain his release. Every spare moment she had away from her job and son was spent writing notes to anyone she believed could help, including Thomas Gannon from the prison board. Unfortunately, writing to Gannon did not have the outcome she wanted, and instead of securing Walter Sr’s release, the official was instead saddled with informing Christine of her husband’s shady past.

  When Christine read the letter telling her that Walter Sr had been in prison several times before, she was utterly bewildered and devastated. “I was very unaware of Mr Collins’ previous offenses,” she wrote to Gannon in 1925. “I was really surprised as well as greatly disappointed.”

  In spite of this, Christine still believed her husband should be released from prison, and upped her attempts in this regard. She continued to write to the prison as often as she could, but then also made the mistake of hiring a lawyer in San Francisco, who assured her he would be able to help with the case. Of course, in advance of his assistance, he would need $250 sent to him as soon as possible, and unbelievably Christine decided this was a good investment and forwarded the money, which she had borrowed from one of her friends.

  Sadly, after six long months of letters, there remained no contact from the lawyer, who had conveniently disappeared the moment he received the cash. She tried for a long time to get the money back, but eventually Christine was faced with the inevitable reality that in spite of the lawyer’s claims to be able to help her, she was now – more than ever – on her own.

  Still depressed from being scammed by the lawyer, Christine then made the awful mistake of sending a sum of money to Thomas Gannon, in order to show her “appreciation” for his help. Utterly appalled, when Gannon received the cash he immediately wrote back to Collins and chastised her for trying to bribe him in some way. “Please understand,” she wrote back, “I meant it as a personal appreciation an
d not as compensation in the least.” Whether her “appreciation” was as innocent as she said remains to be seen, but certainly she was desperate enough to try anything at that point in order to have her husband returned to the family home.

  By the time January 1928 rolled round, Christine Collins was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and had been ordered to rest by her doctor. Unfortunately, this was not possible, given that she had rent to pay and a child to support, so instead she continued to work long hours at the telephone exchange and kept on writing letters in the hope of freeing her husband. “We really need his support,” she wrote to the chairman of the prison board, adding how very sincere she was in stating that fact.

  Finally, in February 1928, Christine received some hopeful news when George B. Anderson, Transportation Manager at Los Angeles Railway (and Walter Sr’s former employer), agreed to approve any request for parole. Unfortunately, no parole hearing ever came and she had to continue with her work, which often involved working weekends. Neither Christine nor her son Walter enjoyed the weekend work but as a single parent she barely had a choice if she wanted to provide for her family. As a result, on Saturday, 10 March 1928, the young woman was called into work at the telephone exchange and she was forced to leave her son to fend for himself until she got home.

  In order to entertain the child while she was gone, Christine gave him some pocket money and told him to go to the cinema. “I’ll be back later,” she said as she headed out of the door. The child then dressed himself in a red plaid lumber jacket, brown cord trousers and grey cap, and headed off to see a film before his mother was due to return home.

  At 5 p.m. the young boy was spotted briefly by his neighbour, Mrs A. Baker, but when Christine returned home later that evening, Walter was not in the house. This came as a surprise to her, since he was supposed to return home as soon as the movie had finished, and in the past he had always been an exceptionally straightforward child who always did as he was told. Fearing the worst, Christine immediately panicked and phoned the police, though they were of no help to the concerned woman, saying they were reluctant to look for the child as he would most likely turn up eventually by himself.