***************************************************************************** * 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 * ***************************************************************************** CONTENTS OF THIS ISSUE: The Dispatches of Richard Burritt ***************************************************************************** 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. ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** 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 screenland 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." ***************************************************************************** ***************************************************************************** Back issues of Taylorology are available on the Web at any of the following: http://www.angelfire.com/az/Taylorology/ http://www.etext.org/Zines/ASCII/Taylorology/ http://www.uno.edu/~drif/arbuckle/Taylorology/ Full text searches of back issues can be done at http://www.etext.org/Zines/ For more information about Taylor, see WILLIAM DESMOND TAYLOR: A DOSSIER (Scarecrow Press, 1991) *****************************************************************************