TWENTY-FOUR

WHAT'S PAST IS PROLOGUE

Los Angeles district attorney Buron Fitts abruptly took control of the case. He announced that all witnesses and principals would be questioned again — and the DeLarm household, including mechanic Ralph Dunlap, would face a grand jury inquiry. He also announced that important new evidence had surfaced, allowing a murder complaint to be made against William Guy. Most intriguing for the press, however, was Fitts’s comment that he did not believe Walter’s murder had been a “one man job.” Headlines were soon announcing, “Suspect Gang Killed Skipper.”1

*

Aloha began her appearances at the United Artists Theatre on the evening of December 15. The box office had been decorated with garlands and a large poster announced “The Rhinestone Woman of the Hour.” Another sign told theatregoers that the guns and backpacks of the late Captain Wanderwell would be on display, and indeed his rifles and knapsacks were piled outside the theatre for the curious to examine.

The Los Angeles Times described the The River of Death as a search for the lost explorer Percy Fawcett and said that, as a travelogue, it was “fair and convincing enough” but decried the “incendiary finish” where Mrs. Wanderwell said she was working in the interests of an international police force to promote world peace.2 Theatregoers were even less charitable. Whereas previous Wanderwell films had drawn audiences with travel and adventure stories, these ticket-buyers just wanted to ogle the Rhinestone Widow. They were not interested in the search for a moustachioed English explorer or in watching a documentary on bark-eating Amazonian tribes who moved naked through the forests. They wanted Aloha to talk about the murder. Aloha introduced her films in person but refused to take questions. During one presentation hecklers began urging her to “Take it off!!”³ Aloha did not oblige.

Those interested in hearing Aloha’s thoughts about her late husband would have done better to read the stories she had agreed to write exclusively for Hearst’s United Service newspaper syndicate.

 

I was with Captain Wanderwell for ten years. During eight of them I was his wife. I could never have found a more congenial mate, or a truer one.

I won’t be lonely, as I continue to journey the earth, for I shall always feel that Cap is with me, taking the brunt and carrying the burden, encouraging, guiding, leading the way.

And I shall always regard him as I thought of him ten years ago while a sixteen-year-old school girl in the south of France — the gayest, most gallant, most romantic adventurer in all the world.4

*

On December 19 a tired-looking Aloha, dressed in a trench coat and rain hat, was escorted through a crush of onlookers at the Long Beach Superior Court. It took a while to get through because there was no actual courthouse. Instead, court facilities were located in the Jergins Trust Building, a multi-use building that also housed, among other things, the enormous Loew’s State Theater. The offices of the Superior Court within it were tiny and the crowds who came to watch the trial made the narrow hallways almost impassable.

When court finally came to session, participants learned that William Guy would be defended by Eugene McGann, a veteran attorney known for representing clients who operated at the margins of the law.5 McGann was reportedly retained by a friend of Eddie DeLarm named Edward J. Moffett. McGann, in turn, enlisted Moffett as part of Guy’s defence team — a sly legal manoeuvre that prevented Moffett from being called to testify. The press referred to him simply as “The Mysterious Mr. Moffett.” The defence team was rounded out by “second chair,” George W. Rochester. No one representing Guy was court-appointed, yet no one questioned that a penniless Welshman was able to afford such an august defence.

Judge Charles F. Cook commenced proceedings by asking the prosecution to produce their evidence against Guy. Several members of the Wanderwell crew were asked to take the stand, including Marian Smith, who repeated that she was “sure Guy was the man she saw at the porthole on the night of December 5. Cuthbert Wills did likewise. When asked if he could reproduce the sound of the scream he’d heard, Wills paused before emitting a high, piercing scream that electrified the courtroom and echoed down the building’s corridors. Attempting to defuse the drama, McGann hurriedly asked if the sound might not have come from a seagull, or perhaps a siren. Wills looked at the attorney for a moment before replying, “It struck me as more of a man’s scream than anything else.”6

When Aloha took the stand, she described Guy’s threatening visit to Walter the previous August, although this time she claimed it was DeLarm who had done most of the talking, including a warning that if the captain didn’t pay up, they would “make him pay eventually.”⁷ She also repeated the tale of Guy’s mutinous actions in Panama, flatly refuting that he was “owed wages” of any kind. When she was excused from the stand, Aloha, a cigarette dangling from her lip, amazed onlookers by crossing the courtroom and entering into a whispered conversation with the accused.8 At the end of their brief conversation, however, and to the surprise of all present, the two shook hands briefly before Aloha hurried away.

Incredulous reporters clamoured to know what had been said, but both Guy and Aloha refused to say. Later McGann said Aloha had questioned Guy about the missing letter of mutiny that Guy and several other crew members had signed. Apparently, she asked if he knew what had become of the letter, and Guy had supposedly replied, “No, but I hope Mrs. Wanderwell, that you don’t think that I shot the captain.”9

Newspapers reported that Guy appeared pleased as he was being led back to his cell, commenting to reporters, “Well, that doesn’t look as if she thought I killed her husband.”¹⁰ At the end of that morning’s proceedings, however, the court felt that there was sufficient evidence to warrant a trial. William James “Curly” Guy was ordered held for trial without bail on a charge of murder in the first degree. Buron Fitts would seek the death penalty.

*

According to the Long Beach coroner, Walter was wearing two pairs of pants at the time of his death. The inner pair was found to conceal a second wallet containing as much as $800. This was a vast sum to be carrying around. In 1932 the average annual American income was just $1,650, so to carry half an annual salary in his billfold was odd to say the least.11 Since Walter had died without a will and the murder investigation was ongoing, all monies were held as evidence. Aloha needed to gain administration of Walter’s property. She filed her claim on December 23, asking that she, Valri, and Nile be made legal heirs to his estate. According to a notice in the New York Times, the estate was valued at just $1,500, of which $1,000 was cash and another $500 in property.12 No mention was made of the property in Miami.

On Christmas Day newspapers reported that the Wanderwell crew had called off the South Seas trip.13 Members who were not directly involved in the investigation turned in their WAWEC and IP insignia and left town. Gradually, while Aloha was forced to wait in Los Angeles, WAWEC units around the world began disbanding and the International Police, Inc. was mothballed.

*

On December 30, Guy was formally arraigned and a trial was set for Thursday, February 2, 1933. When asked how he would plead, Guy threw back his shoulders and said, “Not guilty.” In the intervening weeks, however, more stories trickled out. A “lunchroom employee” and “friend” of Guy named Sylvia Anderson said she saw Guy driving around Glendale at 6:45 p.m. on December 5. This was contrary to Guy’s claims that he did not leave the DeLarm residence all night.14 Then it was revealed that DeLarm’s car had been repossessed the day after Walter’s murder and had been thoroughly cleaned inside and out. There were odd stories, too, like the letter discovered in the trash bin of the DeLarm home. It had been written in code, torn up, and covered in tooth marks. Detectives used a substitution code method to discover that the note was to “Curley [sic]” from someone named June Churchill and expressed her affection for Guy, wishing he was there so they could walk together beneath the moon. Police announced they were actively searching for June Churchill.15

Aloha was bound to Los Angles for the duration of the trial. While she waited for a decision on the estate settlement, she and five other crew members declared themselves destitute and applied for financial aid from the district attorney’s office. They were granted nine dollars each for their appearance at the preliminary hearing and advanced a small sum for the forthcoming trial. Then, on January 24, Aloha was granted guardianship of Valri — allowing her to assume control of the Carma, which still legally belonged to her daughter.16 Within days, the Carma was chartered as a “showboat” for a year-long cruise to Central and South America, with a first stop in Mexico. The charterers were listed as John T. Branson, who would make the trip to gather animals for the California zoological gardens, and Thomas J. Hughes, who would oversee the transport and operation of carnival amusements, including a Ferris wheel, merry-go-rounds, high-dive performers and several trained animals.17

*

By the time the trial began, the Wanderwell murder case was a worldwide sensation. Curious throngs queued outside the court several hours before the trial — so many that drink and hot dog vendors soon lined the street. Inside the courtroom, jury selection proceeded with surprising speed, although according to one reporter, the session had been “confused by the violent attempts of an eager throng to gain admittance to the courtroom.” Three hundred observers were packed into the tiny room, while several hundred more who were denied entry reacted by pulling down restraining ropes, tearing the hinges off and splintering doors, and shoving guards aside.¹⁸

It had been expected that Los Angeles County Superior Court judge Walter Desmond would preside, but instead the case was passed to a newly appointed judge — and former reporter for the Hearst chain of newspapers — Robert Walker Kenny. An ambitious man, Kenny would become California’s attorney general and be credited with outlawing the Ku Klux Klan in the state.

With the jury selected, prosecutor Clarence Hunt made his opening remarks, announcing that Aloha would appear the following day as the state’s first witness. Not to be outdone, defence attorney Eugene McGann asked Judge Kenny to permit a field trip. As one reporter wrote, “By the aid of an almanac McGann showed the court that by singular coincidence meteorological conditions, including the position of the moon and the tide, will be practically identical tomorrow night with what they were on the night of the murder.”19

The field trip was approved and, oddly, Judge Kenny waived the use of a police vehicle and took Guy as a passenger in his own car. Although not much happened during the tour of the Carma, the scene at the boat was described with typical flair by Carleton E. Williams, the Los Angeles Times reporter who had led Detective Filkas to Guy’s hideout. “The scene aboard the ship,” he wrote, “was made more unusual by the gathering of scores of pelicans, regular denizens of Fish Harbor. The somber visaged and long-beaked birds perched on every available pier and vantage point and solemnly observed all that went on.”20

The next morning, it was Aloha’s turn to take the stand. She outlined Guy’s actions in South America: how he had forced his way into the expedition, his refusal to work, and the mutinous petition he had written. She said Walter had always kept the note in his wallet and wondered why it should now be missing.

One reporter noted that throughout her testimony Aloha ignored Guy, refusing even to glance at him, but that the “curly-haired, faintly smiling defendant . . . kept her under a steady gaze.”²¹ Late in the afternoon, to the disappointment of the court, the prosecution called Aloha down from the stand, saying that she would return the next day.

The following day, McGann unwrapped a new surprise, a confession signed by a woman named Olga Labrulitz. The letter, found in a local dancehall washroom, said, “I killed Wanderwell. He was my sweetheart for eight months. I did not know he was going to the South Seas. He told me he would kill me. I told him, ‘No, you’ll go first.’ I shot him.” Prosecutors Hunt and Brayton accepted the note with scepticism but promised to make a full inquiry. When court was adjourned, journalists rushed to file their stories, with one reporter making special note that “Aloha wore her blouse open at the throat.”22

*

On Monday morning Judge Kenny issued a bench warrant for Aloha’s arrest — she hadn’t shown up. When she eventually arrived fifteen minutes late, Kenny angrily remanded her in custody until the end of her testimony. But even this dramatic event was eclipsed by Eugene McGann’s introduction of Eddie DeLarm as principal witness for the defence. While the courtroom murmured, McGann began questioning Aloha. He asked her to repeat what had happened in South America, how the mutiny letter had been delivered, and whose idea it had been to disband in Panama.23 Aloha told him Walter had “suggested that for the benefit of the whole that we stay together until we got to Panama, where other arrangements could be made.”

“Wasn’t that Guy’s suggestion?” asked McGann.

“No, it was not.”

“Were you present when the paper was turned over to your husband?”

“I was not.”24

McGann then turned to the question of money. Aloha explained that Guy had demanded $160 be paid to him. McGann asked if Guy had received any payments in money or equipment. “None to my knowledge,” she answered. With that reply, McGann quickly focused on the night of the murder. Having established that Guy was supposedly after money, he asked Aloha whether her husband had been robbed on the night of the murder. With great reluctance, she admitted that he had not. McGann leaned forward and placed a wallet in front of Aloha. “Whose wallet is this?” he asked. But as she attempted to acknowledge whose wallet it had been, she lost her words and began sobbing so forcefully that Judge Kenny ordered a short recess.²⁵

The evening’s newspapers offered critiques of Aloha’s tears and fainting “performance.” But Aloha insisted her tears were real. “The truth was I couldn’t talk about those events; at the time I was dazed and confused . . . when I was called to the witness stand the happenings of the immediate past seemed blurred and chaotic to me . . . I couldn’t discuss certain things in relation to the crime; they were too near and terrible.”²⁶

The following day Aloha concluded her testimony and the prosecution’s focus shifted to other crew members. Cameraman Ed Zeranski and Marian Smith from Georgia were both asked, “Do you see anyone in the courtroom who resembles the man at the porthole?” Both crossed the courtroom and placed a hand on Guy’s shoulder.

In response, McGann summoned state witness Joseph Burzinski, who had been present when DeLarm and Guy had threatened Walter in August. According to Burzinski, when Guy first walked into Wanderwell’s apartment, Walter had offered to shake hands, but Guy declined, remarking, “That’s unnecessary.”27 Then, contradicting his earlier statements, Burzinski denied that Guy had threatened Walter with physical violence but noted that Walter had seemed exceedingly frightened by Guy’s appearance.

Next on the stand was ship engineer Cuthbert Wills. Dressed in a suit that had been borrowed from family members in Canada, Wills spoke in sharp, clear sentences and described, once again, the events of December 5. When it came time to identify the Man in Grey in the courtroom, Wills, like the others, walked across the courtroom. “Guy looked cooly [sic] at Wills and a trace of a smile flitted across his face as the engineer, color rising in his cheeks, touched his coat.”28 Among those on board the Carma the night of the murder, only Mary Parks refused to identify Guy as the Man in Grey, saying that she was not absolutely certain. McGann began a withering cross-examination of Wills, challenging every detail of the story and eventually forcing Wills to admit that he had initially refused to pick Guy out of a police lineup. Wills, who grew progressively more annoyed, explained that he had wanted to be sure the accent was the same. He needed to speak with him first.

As the session drew to a close, Eugene McGann announced that he would call a surprise witness. Al “The Boatman” Mauzy, caretaker of a hulk that lay alongside the Carma, would testify that several days after Cuthbert Wills and Marian Smith had viewed the police lineup, they had said that it was, in fact, too dark on the boat to be 100 per cent sure it was the same man. McGann then announced he would also call two Glendale automobile dealers who saw Guy in their town at the hour of the murder.29 There is no surviving account of prosecutors Hunt and Brayton complaining that Guy was supposedly in bed at that hour. Nor did they call Harry Greenwood, who claimed to have spoken with Guy at Long Beach’s harbour just minutes after the murder.

*

By February 9, anyone watching the trial must have felt there was strong evidence to convict Guy. All but one on board the Carma said Guy was the Man in Grey. Prosecutor Hunt had intricately outlined Guy’s dislike of Wanderwell and detailed his past threats towards him, including the August visit to his apartment. Prosecution had also shown that the testimonies of Guy’s own witnesses did not agree. Surely the evidence was strong: there was a motive, several witnesses whose testimony agreed, and the accused’s own admitted hatred for the victim.

Prosecutor Hunt announced that the state had one last witness. Called to the stand was E.T. Liller, an embalmer, who explained that Wanderwell was found to have been wearing two pairs of pants at the time of his death. The argument went that since a wallet containing $800 was found on the inside pair of pants, this might explain why Wanderwell had not been robbed. The killer, quite simply, would not have known about the inner pants. And with that the prosecution rested.

When Eugene McGann stood up, he approached the bench smiling and asked that the case be dismissed. The prosecution, who had to show the burden of proof that Guy was guilty, he said, had completely failed to prove its case, or even a “chain of circumstances” linking Guy to the murder.30 Judge Kenny denied the motion but adjourned proceedings so that the jury could be taken to visit the house of Eddie DeLarm and the LA River Bottoms house that Guy had used as his hideout. Just before the gavel fell, however, McGann announced that the defence would be calling two surprise witnesses the following day: Ed Zeranski and Aloha Wanderwell.

*

When the trial reconvened at 9:00 a.m. the following morning, McGann grumbled that he was unable to call his first witness to the stand because Mrs. Wanderwell “was unable to reach court immediately.”31 Instead, he called three newspaper reporters to the stand.

First to testify was Los Angeles Record reporter Agness Underwood, who had branded Aloha the “Granite Widow.” Underwood claimed that three days after the murder she overheard Cuthbert Wills remark that he “could not be sure” that Guy was in fact the Man in Grey. Reporters Vincent Mahoney and Marian Rhea gave similar statements.

With his “shadow of doubt” planted, McGann called a stream of witnesses, including Eddie DeLarm, Mrs. DeLarm, their two daughters, Betty and Juanita, and neighbours Mr. and Mrs. Harry Wilson, all of whom testified that Guy could not have been anywhere near Long Beach at the time of the murder. Then there was mechanic Ralph Dunlap — the man who had said Guy told him he was heading for Long Beach. On this day, however, he said that as he approached the DeLarm house at 8:45 p.m. he saw Guy through a window, walking towards his bedroom.32 The prosecution, evidently unaware of Dunlap’s earlier statements to police, said nothing.

By the time Aloha took the stand, McGann was in blazing form.

 

[I] was drilled as if by a dentist’s tool. The attorney, in an endeavor to confuse me or entrap me, picked on the most minute of events such as my having given permission to a secretary while in Bolivia to sign business letters which the expedition had sent regarding some trivia . . . It seemed to me they were hammering away at me rather than at the man who was suspect and, in fact, one day I told the judge I thought the whole hearing was a farce. It was common knowledge much gossiped about at the time, that Long Beach had never convicted a person for murder and as this suspect was a Britisher and he would eventually be deported, they would be able to wash their hands of the whole thing having done their duty.33

 

Aloha on the witness stand during her testimony in the Wanderwell murder trial, February 1933.

*

When it was announced that Guy would speak in his own defence on February 14, Valentine’s Day, the crowds doubled. The press’s focus now shifted from kooky Captain Wanderwell and his band of misfits to the plight of the dashing Welsh adventurer who wore a permanent smile and claimed that all he wanted to do was get back to his darling wife, Vera. As Carleton Williams observed, the courtroom was packed “largely with women.”

It was afternoon before Guy finally took the stand. In a low voice he identified himself as William James Guy and said that he had been born in Cardiff, Wales. He repeated his claim that on the night Walter Wanderwell was murdered, he was at the home of his friend Edward DeLarm, about 30 miles from Long Beach. He had, he said, arrived at the DeLarm home at 6:30 p.m. and did not leave until morning. McGann had no further questions, and the prosecution, unbelievably, did not see fit to cross-examine. Guy, much to the courtroom’s disappointment, left the stand.

 

A page from the court reporter’s transcript in the murder trial of William James “Curly” Guy. Note the annotation for February 15, 1933: “Trial returned verdict Not Guilty.”

McGann’s final remarks took nearly three hours, at one point shouting at jurors, “Picture to yourselves this young man, Mr. Guy, dangling from the end of a rope, and ask yourselves if this evidence warrants such a verdict.”34 Brayton closed for the prosecution, calling Guy a killer and taking special aim at the ridiculous revisions and contradictions of the DeLarm family testimony, calling it a “mass of untruths.” Then, at precisely 5:00 p.m. on February 16, the case was turned over to the jury for deliberation. As Judge Kenny gave his final instructions to the jury, Los Angeles district attorney Buron Fitts left the courtroom. When someone asked him what was happening inside, Fitts responded: “Judge Kenny is closing for the defence.”35

It took the jury 5½ hours and four ballots to reach their decision. The lead juror, a small, middle-aged man, read out the verdict: “We the jury find the defendant . . . William James Guy . . . Not guilty.” The courtroom erupted. Female spectators mobbed Guy, kissing and hugging him, grabbing at his clothes. According to the foreman, jurors were simply not convinced that lighting conditions aboard the Carma had been sufficient for witnesses to positively identify the mysterious Man in Grey.

When asked how he felt about his trial and acquittal, Guy shrugged and said, “After facing starvation as a prisoner in Russia, a firing squad commanded by Sandino, fever in the South American jungle and torture at the hands of Chinese brigands, a murder trial didn’t look so dangerous . . . I knew I wasn’t guilty, but if that jury had thought so, I guess I could have stood the rope around my neck.”36 One newspaper, reflecting on the story of Walter, called it a strange tale, “so strange, indeed, that if written as a novel most publishers would probably say it was not a story but a nightmare.”³⁷

For Aloha, the episode certainly was a nightmare. But still the question remained: who killed Walter Wanderwell? It was a question the press would trot out on the anniversary of his murder well into the 1950s. Aloha, however, never spoke publicly of the murder again, although privately she maintained her position that Guy had been Walter’s killer. “The first thing he did upon gaining his temporary freedom,” she wrote, “was to apply to authorities for the bullet that had killed the Captain.”³⁸