The Daily Mirror

Larry Harnisch reflects on Los Angeles history

Category: 1957

Paul V. Coates--Confidential File

Sept. 6, 1957

Paul_coates Sometimes it's a good idea to holler

Because if you don't, people don't hear. Or, at least, they don't pay attention.

I've done a little hollering over the past couple of months--about a situation which I considered a pretty bad one.

It concerned conditions at County General Hospital.

Too many employees there felt that their services to patients should be regarded as favors, rather than duties.

And, as a result, too many patients were receiving indifferent, insufficient care.

Today, I hope, I'm through hollering.

Because, from reports I've received during the past week, lots of things have been happening. Things which point toward much-improved conditions at the institution.

There have been people fired.

There have been some changes made to facilitate handling of patients and to alleviate personnel shortages in certain sections of the hospital.

1957_0906_palladiumAnd, just last week, the county Board of Supervisors decided that it should make a check into the situation. The body appointed a special committee to conduct an investigation.

Before I start pecking away at County General's treatment last July, stories illustrating its faults had been popping up in papers for years.

So I claim no credit for having unearthed anything new.

A few days ago, I discussed the hospital's shortcomings with four of its top officials.

All of them have ideas which could turn General into one of the better hospitals in this area, in spite of its size.

At the meeting, Director Robert J. Thomas told me:

"The hospital has definitely fallen behind.

"In employee development, in modern procedures, in our physical plant, we are not up to date."

He added, however, that things are starting to happen. There are probably close to a hundred projects and reforms now either started or in the mill.

A sampling of them:

The present, poorly planned admitting room will receive a $62,000 ($444,247.59 USD 2006) face-lifting designed to speed up patient processing.

Stricter, more organized employee-control methods are being put into practice.

"Before," Thomas said, "we graded a new employee only once--at the end of his six-month probationary period.

"Now, we'll do it monthly."

To improve patient morale, visitors will be allowed to come to the hospital every day between 7 and 8 p.m. Previously, visits were permitted on Wednesday and Sunday afternoons only.

To cut hours of waiting for outpatients, the hospital is setting up a staggered schedule of appointments in many of its clinics.

Its elevator system is to be overhauled. New X-ray film processing equipment is being installed to cut the present delay of 45 minutes down to six or seven. A system to expedite filing and movement of patients' charts will be in effect in two or three weeks.

1957_0906_traffic_ad The plant's physical problems can't be solved at once, of course. The new osteopathic unit isn't due for completion until the end of the year.

But one problem which is being tackled right now, Thomas said, is the shortage of registered nurses.

A few months ago, there were 214 vacancies.

A recent nationwide "enlistment" campaign by the hospital cut the figure by 80.

"We're going to make General a better place to work for people who want some satisfaction out of their jobs," Thomas told me. "And as for the dead weight--the Civil Service Commission has yet to turn us down on a request for dismissal of an employee."

The human element in any business is a major one.

If General Hospital can whip some enthusiasm into its personnel, the problem should be well on its way to [being] solved.

Confidential--Tells the Facts and Names the Names

Scenes from the Confidential trial:

Sept. 4, 1957, Dorothy Dandridge testifies

Photograph by Dan McCormack, Los Angeles Times

Continue reading »


Sept. 3, 1957
Los Angeles


Paul V. Coates--Confidential File

Paul_coates Aug. 26, 1957

The first time Johnny contacted me was about a year ago.

He called to tell me that he and this other guy were about to have a showdown over a girl. "The other guy's got a roscoe but I don't care," he said.

The second call was a few months ago--in person. He'd been stamped in a fight and wasn't working. He didn't want a handout. Just some legal advice, which, naturally, I couldn't give him.

Time No. 3 was yesterday.

"Something's gotta be done fast," he told me. "We been trying everything with no go, or I wouldn't bother you."

As he talked, I remembered him as the kid (maybe 22, 23) who had told me he hitchhiked out from New York. He was a graduate of orphanages and institutions and the streets.

"It's not me that needs anything," he said. "It's Mrs. Ryan and Mrs. Cruz."

He stopped talking long enough for me to ask, "What about Mrs. Ryan and Mrs. Cruz?"

Then he started:

"Well, since I seen you last, I been eating. Got a job. Got hurt. Drawing $25 every two weeks. Took this apartment on Hoover, near the university.

"I did things, you know--to make it nice. Now I'm manager. Pay 19 bucks a month instead of 34. Get 15 knocked off for looking after things.

1957_0826 "So walking past the mission the other day, I seen these two women on the sidewalk. Crying. They was holding babies.

"Naturally, I asked them what was the problem. They said the mission was gonna throw them out.

"So I told them to wait.

"And I went and called the landlady. I had a couple open rooms.

"I guess the landlady thinks I'm crazy. In the first place, no women and kids are allowed here. Plus they don't have no money.

"But I talk and talk. I'm good at it. God gave me a mouth to talk. Sometimes it's been the only thing I've ever had. My mouth to talk.

"If I use my hands I get into too many fights.

"So finally I tell the landlady I'll pay the rent if she'll let the kids and women in. I do, too. I pay it.

"That was a couple of weeks ago and they try and get food from the city and county, but they won't give them none. Maybe just a little for a day. And the babies are hungry.

"Every day, Mrs. Cruz's husband looks for work, but he can't read and write and he doesn't talk too good. That makes it tough. I know.

"In the Army I used to write letters for the hillbillies and they used to do my shooting. I don't shoot too good.

"But anyway, I give them some food, and I collect some. Milk, bread, a few cans--things like that.

"But food keeps running out.

"Now rent's overdue again. Food'll be gone tomorrow and they barely got clothes.

"Could take my 20 bucks out of the bank. I suppose I will. But sure hate to. I been saving for quite a while.

I wanna get married and should have a little money. Even now she--my girl--thinks we should wait a while till I get a little better fixed.

"I guess she's right."

Johnny paused for his first breath. But he broke it fast.

"Hey," he said. "You KNOW the girl. Same one I was going to fight over a year ago. Never did fight the guy.

"But--you know what--she's still my girl!"


Judith Mae Andersen


Photographs courtesy of the Chicago Tribune
Investigators examine the oil drum containing the remains of Judith Mae Andersen
that was found Aug. 22, 1957, in Lake Michigan.

Aug. 28, 1957

1957_0825_andersen_mug Seek and ye shall find, and so it is with the Judith Mae Andersen case. Delving into the archives of the Chicago Tribune revealed answers to some of my questions, but although the information brings certain details sharply into focus, others have been covered with a frustrating veil of shadows.

Judith, 15, disappeared about 11:15 p.m. on Aug. 16, 1957, after leaving the apartment of a girlfriend, Elena Abbatacola, 16, to walk home.  Boaters found a 55-gallon drum containing Judith's torso, minus the head, right arm and left hand, floating in the Montrose Harbor area of Lake Michigan on Aug. 22, 1957. A 5-gallon bucket containing the missing body parts was found in the harbor Aug. 24. The remains were in an advanced state of decomposition from being in the water and from being exposed to the hot sun as the metal containers floated in the lake.

Police failed to find anyone who definitely saw Judith after she left the Abbatacola home. Alleged sightings at other locations not on her route were eliminated by police.

The victim's family:

Judith lived in a house at 1520 N. Lotus Ave. with her parents, Ralph W. Andersen, 43, and Ruth A. Andersen, 44, and two of three brothers, Robert, 19; and James, 12. Her father, Ralph, was a foreman at a bookbinding firm, Robert O. Law Co., 2100 N. Natchez Ave., where her brother Robert was also employed. Her mother was a homemaker. Judith's oldest brother, Ralph C. Andersen, 21, was stationed in the Army in Virginia.

The victim:

The Tribune described Judith as 5 feet, 8 inches tall, weighing 150 pounds, with blond hair and blue eyes. She was active in athletics at Austin High School, according to her father. "She was helpful around the house, she was obedient and she was strong, much stronger than the average girl," Ralph C. Andersen said. She was "a swell gal," Robert Andersen said. She was confirmed on Palm Sunday 1954 at St. Peter Evangelical and Reformed Church, 5448 Diversey Ave.

Kenneth Blevins, who dated her, said Judith was "a girl with 'a good mind, serious, and with a pleasant personality and a sharp sense of humor.' "

Terry Johnson, one of Judith's close friends, said she and Judith often took rides with boys they met at the Dairy King Soft Freeze, a neighborhood snack bar (see below). Several times a week, they went riding with boys for an hour or so, Terry said.

She later defended Judith's reputation, saying that Judith "would never thumb rides with boys and she wouldn't get into cars with strangers. Neither of us would, nor ever did, those things." She added: "Only once can I remember Judy getting into a car with a boy she didn't know. I knew the boy and had to talk Judy into accepting the ride."

Although neighborhood boys were attracted to her, "Judy wasn't interested in them," Terry said. "The only time she wanted a boy was for a special occasion, like a dance." Terry said: "Judy was shy around boys."

1957_0831_trib_andersen_map The witness and her family:

Elena Abbatacola, 15, and Judith had been friends for some time and worked as telephone solicitors for a modeling company in downtown Chicago. Elena lived in the second-floor apartment of a two-story brick house at 1019 N. Central Ave.,  with her widowed mother, Mary, and six of her brothers: Leo, 30; Joseph, 27 or 28, a sheet metal worker; William, 23; Philip, 19 or 20; Nicholas/Nikolas/Nickolas/Nick, 18; and Robert, 14. John, 25, the owner of a neighborhood pizzeria, lived at 5427 Ohio St., with his wife.

According to the Tribune, Nick Abbatacola was constantly supervised  by the family after being convicted at the age of 15 of molesting a young boy who was a family friend. The Juvenile Court committed Nick to the Chicago State Hospital on April 12, 1955. He was discharged May 28, 1956, but had to check in periodically before receiving his final discharge May 25, 1957, the Tribune said. Nick once called the Andersen home and asked Judith for a date, her father said. "Judy refused him and she said he told her: 'Oh, you're falling for that sailor.' We didn't know the sailor [presumably Kenneth Blevins--lrh]," Ralph testified at the inquest.

John Abbatacola told the Tribune that he had been arrested in 1955 on charges of assaulting a man who "had been bothering Nicholas."

Judith was also friends with Linnea/Leanna "Terry" Johnson, 15, 1743 N. Luna Ave. Sometime after July 27, 1957, Terry introduced Judith to Kenneth Blevins, 18, 4447 Carroll Ave., who was on leave from the Norman, Okla., Naval Air Station, where he was learning aviation mechanics.

On one date, Kenneth and Judith played cards at Terry's house and made another date for Aug. 10, a Saturday. On their date, Judith, Kenneth and Terry walked to the Abbatacolas' pizzeria, 4753 Madison St. Terry left about 9 p.m. and Kenneth and Judith walked to a home near Kostner Avenue and Fulton Street where Elena was babysitting. Elena, Judith and Kenneth went to a drugstore at Madison Street and Pulaski Road and took a bus because it was raining. Elena got off at Augusta Boulevard while Kenneth and Judith got off at North Avenue and walked to Judith's home.

Kenneth and Judith talked on the porch, then he left. On Aug. 11, she saw him off at the railroad station before he returned to Oklahoma. Nancy O'Brien, 222 N. Kenneth Ave., whom he apparently also dated, was there as well. Kenneth said he kissed Judith goodbye.

On Aug. 15, Kenneth said, he got a call from Nancy asking whether he was going to marry her or Judith. He said he was going to marry Nancy. "After I hung up I changed my mind. So I wrote Elena and told her to tell Judy I didn't mean what I said," he told the Tribune. This incident was later reported to have occurred on the night Judith disappeared, but that appears to be an error.


Undetermined, presumably blue-collar, middle class and white. The Andersens moved in about 1954. Ralph C. Andersen and Robert Andersen said they weren't aware of any teenage gang activity but didn't know much about the area.

Victim's last known movements:

On the night she disappeared, Judith was wearing tan toreador trousers, a white sleeveless blouse, black sweater and white, flat-heeled summer shoes with no socks, the Tribune said. She was wearing a sterling silver chain and crucifix, and carrying an opaque yellow cigarette case and small blue wallet.

Before her remains were found, there was speculation that she might have gone to Oklahoma to visit Kenneth, but she did not take the $25 she had in the bank and left $5 on the dresser in her room. According to Elena, Judith had 15 cents on the night she disappeared.



Judith's usual route home, according to Elena, was: Leave 1019 N. Central Ave., walk north and turn right on Le Moyne Avenue, walk east until reaching an alley behind the homes on North Lotus Avenue and walk up the alley to reach her home at 1520 N. Lotus Ave. Elena said that she usually walked partway home with Judith but did not do so on the night Judith vanished. Ralph said he often warned Judith not to use the alley.

On the day Judith vanished, Elena met her about noon after getting out of summer school classes at Austin High. Nick Abbatacola picked them up in his blue 1953 Dodge sedan and drove them to the home of an aunt who lived on Huron Street. They dropped Judith back at home about 3 p.m.

After eating dinner and getting dressed to go out, Judith left home about 6:55 p.m. and arrived at the Abbatacola home about 7:15 p.m. About 7:30 p.m. Judith and Elena visited the Dairy King Soft Freeze stand, 5756 North Ave., owned by the Blandi family. They had a soft drink and played records.

[According to Josephine Blandi and her grandmother Anna Alfano, 2314 W. 75th St., Elmwood Park, Elena and Judith were at the Dairy King about 7 p.m. with a group of teenagers. "They had a soft drink and went outside and sat on some refuse containers in the rear until Mrs. Alfano told them not to loiter there," the Tribune said.

[Josephine said Judith and Elena returned to the Dairy King about 9:30 p.m. with Nick Abbatacola, who was driving his 1953 Dodge. Josephine said Judith, Elena and Nick stayed until the Dairy King closed at 10:15 p.m., but didn't notice if they left together. Elena later disputed this story.]

Elena said she and Judith returned to the Abbatacola home about 8:30 p.m. or 8:45 p.m., according to the Tribune, after stopping at a grocery store to buy potato chips and ginger ale.

Except for Elena and Robert, the rest of the Abbatacolas were out of the home. Elena's mother, Mary, was at the pizzeria owned by Elena's brother John. John said Nick was also at the pizzeria that night until early the next morning. Nick said he was at the pizzeria from 4 p.m. on Aug. 16, to 4 a.m. on Aug. 17.

At 10 p.m., Elena and Judith began watching a movie on TV (either "Stallion Road" on WGN-TV Channel 9, which ended at 11:30 p.m.; or "Secret Agent of Japan" on WBKB-TV Channel 7, which ended at 11:45 p.m.). A month after the killing, the paper disclosed that three of Robert's friends had also been present that night: Eugene Todd, 14; Ralph Scumacci, 13; and Frank Sciliano, 14. The three boys said Judith made a somewhat clandestine phone call during a commercial about 10:15 p.m., but Elena said this wasn't true. The three boys left the Abbatacola home about 10:30 p.m.

[In some reports, Judith supposedly asked if she could make a long-distance call to Kenneth, but was told she couldn't.]

At 10:45 p.m., Leo Abbatacola arrived at the home and went to bed.

According to the Andersens, Terry Johnson called about 10:50 p.m. to talk to Judith, but she wasn't home.

Judith called her mother at 11 p.m. to see if she could stay until the movie ended but was told no. She left the Abbatacola home about 11:15 p.m. and was never seen again. Before she left, she made plans with Elena to accompany her and Nick to the dealership where Nick bought his car.

At 11:45p.m.-11:50 p.m., Judith's father, Ralph, began calling the Abbatacola home to check on Judith, but got no answer.

"I got my son's car and rushed over there then because we couldn't understand the silence," he said at the inquest. "I rang the bell. This is a two-story brick house. The Abbatacolas live on the top story. I could see lights on up there. I knew the bell rang up there in their hall because I could hear it.

"Nobody answered. I couldn't hear a sound or movement."

Ralph returned home about midnight. At 12:02 a.m., Ruth called the pizzeria and talked to Mary.

"Mrs. Abbatacola told us Elena was at home and sound asleep. We told her we had been to the house, had seen lights, rang the doorbell.

"Mrs. Abbatacola told us Elena was a heavy sleeper and couldn't be wakened by the phone. She said it was so late she wouldn't answer the doorbell either. We hung up and phoned another girl, a friend of Judy, [this would be Terry--lrh] in hopes that she might know where our daughter might be. By now it must have been 2 or 2:30 a.m.," Ralph testified.

Ralph continued calling the Abbatacola home, but go no answer at 12:15 a.m. or 12:30 a.m.

Mary Abbatacola arrived home about 1:30 a.m.

Ralph called the Abbatacola home at 2:30 a.m. and talked to Mary, who awakened Elena. Elena said Judith left about 11:15 p.m.

"We called back to the Abbatacola home. We asked for Elena and were told she was asleep. I demanded they get her up so I could talk to her," Ralph testified. Elena told him Judith left after calling her parents. Elena said she offered to walk partway home with Judith, but Judith said: "Oh, never mind. It's late. I'll jump on a bus. I'll call you tomorrow about noon." [Recall that she supposedly had 15 cents--lrh].

At 3:25 a.m., Ralph contacted the Austin police station to report Judith missing.


About 11:45 p.m. on Saturday, Aug. 17, 1957, Edwin Thomas, 53, and his wife were fishing on the east pier of the harbor. "A car drove down the gravel road from Montrose Avenue alongside the harbor," Thomas said. "It stopped about a block from us, across the harbor, made a U-turn and then stopped a few feet from the harbor edge, on the grass which borders the drive.

    "Someone wearing a light shirt got out of the car and flashed a flashlight back and forth along the seawall for four or five minutes. Then the car drove away."

    "About half an hour later, he said, another car or possibly the same car came back down the drive. The car stopped at the same place, then backed up toward the harbor. Thomas and his wife saw the rear lights blinking off and on as the driver applied the brakes.

    " 'We heard two big splashes and we thought some people from the car had dived into the lake,' said Thomas, 'but then the car door slammed and the car took off in a great burst of speed.'

    "As the auto passed near a streetlight, they observed that it was either a hard top or a convertible with a light colored canvas top."

1957_0827_drums Boaters discovered the oil drum Aug. 22, 1957. The remains were originally identified as belonging to a victim in her early 20s, perhaps younger. On Aug. 24, 1957, searchers saw a 5-gallon bucket about one foot from shore. It contained the head, right arm and left hand.

Judith was identified by matching a fingerprint from a religious picture in her room (described on the Internet as an image of Jesus) with the victim's left index finger. Her dentist, Dr. Mitchell Juliussen, compared Judith's dental X-rays with the victim's teeth and also made the identification. Hair from Judith's comb was matched to the body, and nail polish found in her room was matched to nail polish on the victim's toes.

The gunshots:

Judith was shot in the head four times with a .32-caliber revolver. Two bullets went into the brain while one entered the back of her neck and the other was in her left jaw. News accounts report powder burns around one of the bullet wounds. The Tribune says that one of the nonfatal bullets split into two pieces, leading investigators to think that there were five bullets. Only three entry wounds could be found for the four shots, but the paper said the body's condition might have obscured one of the entry wounds. According to the coroner's report, death was instantaneous.

Several news accounts say the killer used "old ammunition" and speculate that two of the bullets failed to penetrate Judith's skull because the gunpowder had degraded due to age.


Medical examiners looked for material under her fingernails but did not find anything useful, the Tribune said.

Stomach contents:

No solid food was found in Judith's stomach. Analysis of material in her lower digestive tract found traces of peach and plum skins, potato remnants, fish, peas and wheat--probably from a piece of chocolate cake, the Tribune said. Time of death was fixed at roughly 12 hours after her last meal, which was at 6 p.m.

Decomposition prevented any determination of whether she had been poisoned or drugged. There was no evidence of alcohol.

Bruises, scrapes and other injuries:

No evidence of hemorrhages was found. Medical examiners found no signs of a struggle and no evidence that she had been sexually molested.


Examiners said the dismemberment was not done skillfully and was "the work of an amateur without any knowledge of anatomy." The killer apparently used a sharp knife, a saw and possibly an ax. Examiners said it would take one to two hours for a lone individual to cut up the body in this manner.

1957_0921_trib_andersen_can The metal containers:

According to the Tribune, the larger drum, containing the torso, originally "had been 36 inches high but the top one-third of the drum had been cut off with a torch and the rough edge folded over about 3/8 of an inch. The drum apparently had been used as a waste receptacle in some factory or office.

"The killer apparently had cut several vertical slits down from the top of the drum to a depth of six or seven inches, apparently by using a chisel and hammer. After the torso was placed in the drum, the cover was forced down on top of the torso and held in place by bending over the sides of the drum."

The Tribune later reported that the drum smelled of kerosene or fuel oil and showed traces of body tissue, rust, iron and sand. It had been "reconditioned," detectives said. It was cut down using heavy shears rather than a cold chisel, detectives said later.

Still later, the Tribune said the drum was cut down to a height of 28 inches and was 22 inches in diameter. It was marked "STC" in 2-inch letters and "SNP" and "188548" in letters and figures 1 inch high.

Junk dealers said that scrapyards packing metal for shipment overseas often used old drums and sealed them in the manner used by Judith's killer. "Not one person in a thousand would think of packing something like that," said a manager for one of Chicago's biggest refiners and smelters. Drums of scrap metal being shipped domestically were typically sealed with a piece of burlap secured with a wire. Only drums of scrap metal being sent overseas were sealed by pounding the sides over the top to secure the lid.

Police learned that railroad workers sometimes used such cut-down drums as tool containers. The method was also used by servicemen in the Pacific during World War II, one crime lab investigator said.

Investigators eventually revealed that the drum had contained lard oil, often used as a lubricant and coolant in machine shops--for example, in cutting stainless steel--as well as in making typewriter ribbons and carbon paper.

The drum had been used once for regular oil, then refilled with lard oil and sold between 1949 and 1951. Judging by residue on the interior of the drum, it had been stored on its side and drained of oil at regular intervals, about 5 to 10 gallons every six to 12 months, police said. It was probably emptied about 1956 and upended, but never cleaned out. Investigators speculated that because the oil was drained infrequently, the drum was used in a small machine shop.

Still later, the Tribune reconstructed the method used to cut down the drum:

"He set the drum on its side and took a hatchet with a curved blade,  like a Boy Scout hatchet. The drum had two reinforcing ribs circling it, a third of the way from each end. He held the hatchet along one of the ribs and struck it with a hammer to make a starting cut."

However, the killer swapped ends after noticing that cutting the drum in that spot would leave a drain hole in the remaining container, so he switched ends and began cutting again.

He "sliced into it, rapidly working his way around to sever the one-third section,"  the Tribune said. [He apparently cut away a ring of  metal about 10 to 12 inches high and 22 inches in diameter--lrh]. His next task was cut down the lid so that it would fit inside the rim of the drum. "He held a cold chisel with a 1-inch blade in his left hand along the top and struck it with the hammer. At the end of this cut he made another, and so on around the top of the drum until it fell down through its cylinder. He worked with great precision, the cuts occasionally overlapping by no more than an eighth of an inch. He knew how to use a chisel and he knew how to cut a drum. It probably took him only about 15 minutes.

"His final work on the drum was to start five slashes in the sides with a hacksaw. Then he hacked the slashes 6 to 9 1/2 inches  inches deep to make the side flaps." Steel dust from the hacksaw was found stuck to the inside of the drum, showing that the body had already been placed inside, the Tribune said.

The killer put the lid inside the drum, hammered down the sides and pounded them tight with the rounded end of a hammer. When he was finished, the drum was 23 1/2 inches high, 22 1/4 inches in diameter and weighed more than 150 pounds.

1957_0825_andersen_pix2 The metal bucket containing the head, hands and one arm was "16 inches high and a bit more than a foot in diameter," the paper said. "This also had been slit, apparently with a chisel, and the edges folded over to hold the cover in place."

According to the Tribune, the bucket contained "traces of calcium carbonate and calcium silicate phosphate."

The bucket was marked En-Ar-Co Motor Oil, National Refining Co., Cleveland, Ohio, and was of a type that had not been manufactured in about 10 years. Police said the bucket was so unusual that they could not find another one to show to potential witnesses.

The Tribune later said that the killer made four slashes in the side of the bucket, about 4 to 5 3/4 inches long without using the hacksaw. There was no lid, so he pounded down the flaps over the head, arm and hand, the Tribune said.

The investigation:

The neighborhood was searched and officers interviewed all residents along Judith's presumed route home. An address book was found in Judith's room and police interviewed everyone who was listed. Hundreds of officers were assigned to the search and skin divers minutely examined Montrose Harbor.

The Chicago police placed unwavering belief in polygraph tests and gave them to everyone involved in this case. According to the Tribune, Joseph Abbatacola "failed to clear the lie detector test on 'repeat questions' " regarding his movements on Aug. 16, 1957. Joseph said he was installing air-conditioning ductwork at the First National Bank, 35 S. Dearborn. When he got off work about 10 p.m. or 11 p.m., Joseph borrowed the 1957 Ford belonging to his brother Philip and "made a round of taverns, arriving at the family home at 2 p.m.," the Tribune said. Joseph was eventually cleared, the Tribune said, by a later polygraph exam.

Two detectives went to a mostly deserted part of the Chicago and North Western railway yards between Erie and Ohio streets near Kenton Avenue. One fired two pistol shots into a sandpit while the other reported that from 200 feet away, the shots were barely audible. However, someone heard the shots reported them to police.


While conducting this test, the detectives also noted a number of oil drums that had been cut down in a manner similar to the one containing the body and had officers investigate the railroad right of way.

Police investigated 109,000 homes, 200 boats and searched 40,000 to 50,0000 garages and basements. Police checked 900 businesses, including 225 machine shops, that bought lard oil.

And of course there were the all-too-predictable crank calls and hoax letters.

In 1958, after police questioned and eliminated many potential suspects, attention focused on a construction worker whose mother was employed by the modeling agency where Elena and Judith had worked as telephone solicitors. The Chicago police went to extraordinary lengths and placed incredible pressure on this individual and his parents to gain a confession but were never successful. He was convicted of sexual assault in another case and served prison time in Joliet.

Records of the inquest were sealed in 1961. By that time the Abbatacolas had moved to California, the Tribune said.

Judith Mae Andersen's remains were cremated. Her mother died in 2005 at the age of 91. Her father and oldest brother passed away some years earlier.

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Cold case



Aug. 25, 1957

1957_0825_andersen_portrait Chicago police recovered the torso from a battered, cut-down 55-gallon drum floating in Lake Michigan. A 5-gallon metal bucket containing the head, hands and one arm were found in the lake two days later. The victim had been shot in the head at least once, maybe four times. It's difficult to tell from news accounts.

Given the location--Chicago--and the advanced method of disposal--victim shot in the head (apparently with a .32-caliber pistol), dismembered, put into metal drums and dumped in Lake Michigan, you might assume that the subject was a low-level mobster. You would be wrong. She was 15-year-old Judith Mae Andersen, who disappeared late one Friday night, Aug. 16, 1957, while walking home from visiting a girlfriend.

This unsolved killing is what Sherlock Holmes would have called a three-pipe problem. Unfortunately, the news reports don't help and in fact hinder the dedicated and impartial inquirer. For at least the last 20 years, police and news reports have focused exclusively on an individual who has never been charged and may have no link to the killing.

The facts in the case are depressingly few and incredibly tragic.

1957_0825_map On the night of Aug. 16, 1957, Judith Mae Andersen, 15, was supposedly watching TV at the home of Elena Abbatacola, 1019 N. Central Avenue. Judith was the only daughter of Ralph W. and Ruth A. Andersen, who also had three sons, and lived at 1520 N. Lotus Ave. She was about to enter her junior year at Austin High School. Because she was identified through fingerprints recovered from a picture of Jesus in her room, we can infer that she had no police record and that she was at least somewhat religious.

About 11 p.m., Judith called her mother to say that she and her friend were watching a movie on TV and asked to stay until it was over.

Her mother said no, so Judith began walking home, a distance of 0.8 of a mile. She never arrived.


On Aug. 22, a cut-down 55-gallon drum containing a torso was found at Montrose Harbor. Two days later, the head, hands and an arm were found in a 5-gallon bucket recovered from the same area.

1957_0825_andersen_pix2 According to The Times, despite the fingerprint evidence, Judith's father, Ralph, refused to believe that the victim was his daughter because the body did not bear traces of a smallpox vaccination on her left arm.

The killing touched off a massive investigation involving large numbers of detectives. Many people called in tips (there were various reports of people hearing shots and screams) but nothing ever proved to be conclusive and the case went into hibernation for lack of leads. Attention eventually focused on a convicted sex criminal identified in 1987 and 1991 articles in the Chicago Tribune. However a recent story in the Tribune withholds the man's identity. He was never charged in the case.

In googling this killing, I discovered a website devoted to the case. It's prudent to be extremely skeptical of websites devoted to actual crimes, so I'm going to limit myself to what appear to be accounts from the original investigation.

According to a 1957 news account, on the night Judith disappeared, she visited the home of Nancy O'Brien, 222 N. Kenneth Ave. According to the Chicago Sun-Times, Nancy and Judith had been dating a sailor named  Kenneth Blevins stationed at the Norman, Okla., Naval Air Station while he was on leave in Chicago. Nancy said she and Kenneth were going to get married and called Kenneth in Oklahoma to prove it. Kenneth told them that he loved Nancy but told the Sun-Times that he loved Judith.

In attempting to reconstruct her last day, newspapers also found that Judith was at the Dairy Bar, 5156 W. North Ave, but accounts of her visits are conflicting and problematic.

Judith's father supposedly called the Abbatacolas to check on Judith when she failed to come home. When no one answered, he went to the house, but no one came to the door--at least according to an unverified account on the Internet. He supposedly searched the neighborhood without success and finally roused someone at the Abbatacola household at 2:30 a.m. He was allegedly told that Judith planned to take the bus home.

According to testimony at the inquest, Elena Abbatacola contacted three boys after Judith's disappearance and told them not to reveal that they spent the evening together.

1957_0825_andersen_detective All right, armchair sleuths (especially those of you living in Chicago--you know who you are), I expect some help. Let me preface this by emphasizing that superficially, at least, this seems to be an extremely elaborate disposal.

(At right, Detective James Hennigan, who is assigned to the case, with some of the files on the investigation).

Here's what the killer has to do:

He (and I'm going to assume this was a man--maybe two) must get control of a 15-year-old girl, shoot her in the head several times, find a location where he can safely cut up the body, dispose of the blood, put the remains in two metal drums, seal or close the drums, load them into a vehicle, drive to Lake Michigan and dump them in Montrose Harbor. All without getting caught. And I would say that the killer must have had a good reason for going to all of that trouble instead of simply driving out to rural DuPage County and throwing the victim in a culvert.

Here's a few of the things we don't know. (Keep in mind that the remains had been in the water for about a week, so presumably some questions can't be answered, for example, whether she was sexually assaulted or had suffered any injuries other than being shot).

For starters:

  • What kind of firearm was used in the killing? Forensics should be able to tell us not only the caliber but identify the brand of handgun used in the slaying. One news account says the gun was a .32-caliber revolver.
  • Where was she shot? News accounts say she was hit one to four times in the head, once in the temple. Why shoot someone four times in the head when once should do the job?
  • What kind of implement was used to dismember her?
  • How skillfully was she dismembered? Was it amateurish and clumsy or well-executed?
  • We know the original investigators tried to determine the origin of the two metal drums. Where did they come from?  How was the 55-gallon drum cut down? With a welding torch? How were they sealed to keep the remains from escaping?

We may not know the killer's identity, but we can be certain he had a gun and a vehicle, and because of the elaborate disposal we can probably rule out somebody acting on the spur of the moment who suddenly finds himself with a dead teenager on his hands. It is also reasonable to assume that the killer was familiar with Montrose Harbor and knew he could dump two drums in the water without being caught. I would also imagine he's either fairly strong to be able to lift the drums in and out of a car with a big trunk (or maybe he had a truck)--or perhaps he had help.

Frankly, this killing seems quite professional and if the victim were a 30-year-old man instead of a 15-year-old girl, I would suspect an execution by someone in organized crime. The fact that nobody has ever come forward with information might again argue for a link to organized crime. But it's absurd and irresponsible to speculate with so little information.

The tragedy, of course, is that there is no resolution to what became of Judith Mae Andersen. Maybe at this late date, someone will come forward and provide some answers.

Photographs courtesy of the Chicago Tribune

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Countdown to Watts

Aug. 21-22, 1957
Los Angeles

Note the contrasting coverage as Kappa Alpha Psi, an African American fraternity, holds its national convention in Los Angeles.

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Great moments in advertising

Well, you have to admit, it gets your attention.


Los Feliz strangler



1957_0820_greenwald_pix Aug. 20, 1957
Los Angeles

It's late afternoon and we're parked outside a 1926 bungalow at 4020 Holly Knoll Drive. Pretty soon the street will be full of police and reporters, but right now everything is quiet.

Ready? Let's go in. Keep your hands in your pockets and don't move anything. You'll see soon enough that something doesn't add up.

Notice that the front and back doors are locked. Here's our victim. Her name is Esther Greenwald and she's 52. Esther is lying face-down across the hallway with her head in a pool of blood on the bedroom floor and her feet in the bathroom. She's wearing a blue nightgown, gray housecoat and red slippers and has been strangled with the cord from her housecoat. Someone doubled it and tied a simple knot in the back. (Police say that whoever killed Marjorie Hipperson and Ruth Goldsmith used square knots). She's wearing two diamond rings.

Dr. Gerald K. Ridge, the medical examiner, says that death occurred sometime between 1:30 a.m. and 5:30 a.m. Margaret Chabolla, who lives behind the Greenwald home at 1950 Myra Ave., says she was reading when she heard two short, hysterical screams between 1:15 a.m. and 2 a.m.

Look at Esther's face. The police are going to say she's been so badly beaten that she could have died of head injuries while Dr. Frederick Newbarr, the other autopsy surgeon, says there are only a few bruises on her face.

The autopsy report is going to show that she "had a hemorrhage on the left temple and a wide variety of abrasions over the eyebrow and near the bridge of the nose. A groove on the right side of the nose was caused possibly by a fist with a ring." The report also says she wasn't raped.

Let's go into the bedroom. Notice that her diamond wrist watch is on the dresser and there's a fur stole in the closet. Take a look at the bed: Only one pillow has an indentation and the bed covers are only mussed up on one side.

She's married to Maurice H. Greenwald, 49. He's her second husband and works at a stationery supply warehouse. Maurice is going to be the one who finds her, somewhere between 5:55 p.m. and 7:30 p.m., depending on the newspaper account. He's going to say that Esther was in her robe when he left at 7:15 a.m. and usually didn't get dressed until noon.

Maurice's story is that he and Esther were at the airport to see off some relatives who were flying to Hawaii. They stopped somewhere for bagels and coffee, and didn't get home until 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. Interesting--Ridge says there was no solid food in her stomach. If Maurice left about 7:15 a.m., that means he got five hours' sleep, at most.



Did you notice the laundry bag near the body? The first suspect police detain will be a 61-year-old delivery driver for a laundry. He will say that Esther complained about some wrinkled pillowcases and he assumed she dropped his service. His alibi will check out to the minute.

The next suspect they will arrest is an ex-convict named Harry Schwartz. He's the brother of her former husband, a bail bondsman named Irving "Izzy" Schwartz, whom Esther married in 1928 and divorced in the 1930s. Although Harry will insist he hasn't seen Esther in years, police will say that a polygraph shows he is lying. He denies knowing anything about the killing and tells investigators to check with about 40 jewelry clients he saw on the day of the murder.  Esther's friends say he was extorting money from her.

The inquest is going to decide that Maurice killed Esther. A jury will find him not guilty, but unfortunately, The Times didn't cover the trial, so we don't know what happened. Maybe the prosecution had a lousy case, maybe the jury wasn't sure, or maybe Maurice had a good attorney and didn't do it, although his story doesn't fit with the facts. I wish I knew.

Well, Maurice will be here any minute, we better get going. Maybe we should visit Esther at Beth Olam Mausoleum at Hollywood Forever Cemetery on our way back.

According to California death records, Maurice Harold Greenwald died Feb. 9, 1988.

Esther's killing remains unsolved.

Map from the Marjorie Hipperson crime scene to the Greenwald crime scene.

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Immigration and labor notes


1957_bracerosAug. 9, 1957
Los Angeles

The Times ran a series of brief stories in 1957 on the braceros, workers brought from Mexico to the U.S.

In January, it noted that 460,000 to 470,000 braceros would be working in the U.S. in 1957, up from 432,618 in 1956.

Later that month, The Times said that in 1956, a record of 161,603 laborers were processed in the U.S. Foreign Labor Reception Center in the Imperial Valley. The center picked up the braceros in Mexico and allocated them to farms in  California, Oregon, Washington,  Arizona, Utah,  Nevada and Idaho. The previous record, set in 1955, was 119,659.

In fact, the U.S. was importing so much labor that Mexico began a public works program and an irrigation project to keep at least some of the men home, The Times said.

Of course there were problems, The Times noted. Atty. Gen. Pat Brown (the future governor) was fighting with the federal government to allow the braceros to bring their families, noting that the camps of single men were prone to prostitution and drugs. The U.S., however, said the families would add too much demand for housing, hospitalization and relief (i.e. welfare).

1957_bracero_recipes And there were other complications. The Imperial Valley farmers disliked the Labor Department's bureaucracy in handling the braceros and wanted the program transferred to the Department of Agriculture, which supervised it until World War II. One reason: The Labor Department had too much paperwork and moved slowly, threatening crops that had to be processed quickly. And, the farmers said, the Labor Department was too "industry minded."

Still, the braceros were working their way into American culture. In fact, The Times ran a page of "bracero recipes" made popular in the camps of Fullerton and urged Orange County housewives to try some of the spicy bracero dishes. (Yes, one calls for "Jap chiles.")

The Times said:

"The men in the Fullerton housing unit ... are mainly fed their native diet because they cannot be expected to adjust to American foods and customs during their short-term contracts in this country. American foods are added, however, to improve the nutritional balance of each meal."

A year-end report noted that the number of braceros processed in El Centro declined slightly in 1957 to 159,000. U.S. officials said a crackdown on illegal immigration had spurred an increase in the bracero program, but that it had leveled off in 1957.

I do not intend to delve further into the topic of immigration and foreign labor (in fact, searching The Times for "braceros" reveals far too many stories about Gov. Ronald Reagan, Cesar Chavez and the UFW, with well-known bylines, for yours truly to go wading).

But I have to note that although The Times reports the nuts and bolts of the braceros, it deals only slightly with the need for the program:

"The braceros are brought into this country as temporary farm workers to fill labor needs that cannot be met with domestic workers."

Translation: Americans won't do these jobs.

What became of the bracero program? The law establishing the program expired in 1964.

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Judy Dull update



Aug. 7, 1957
Los Angeles

Professional photographer David Sutton, 8426 1/2 W. 3rd, tells the Mirror that he spoke with missing model Judy Ann Dull an hour before she disappeared with a photographer calling himself Johnny Glinn (or Glynn).

Sutton said he had been subpoenaed by her husband's attorneys in their child custody case.

"Apparently her husband's lawyers had a notion that I had photographed her in the nude," Sutton said. "That is entirely wrong. Judy Ann was a high-type girl, absolutely straight. She was working to make enough money to keep her baby."

Dull made an appointment to pose for Sutton after she finished her modeling job with Glinn, but she never returned.

Sutton worked for such prominent magazines of the day as Life and Look, and photographed John Wayne many times over their 20-year professional relationship, according to an online biography.

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Attack in Griffith Park



1957_0727_eleanor_dunn July 27, 1957
Los Angeles

I'm going to describe a neighborhood and you guess where it is:

Gay women living together, speaking Armenian and working for nonprofits. (OK, I'm exaggerating slightly). Also lots of foreign-born urbanites and "makin' it singles." 

That's right, Los Feliz, at least according to Zillow.

And "They tend to have a modest income relative to housing cost."

Los Feliz?

I'm looking up 2000 N. Berendo because strange things are afoot at the Dunn household. Very strange.

Nine years after her mother, Eleanor, vanished, Lynn Eleanor Dunn, 18, says a man forced her to drive to Griffith Park and attacked her following a series of threatening letters and lewd phone calls.

Just to make things interesting, her father is Linwood G. Dunn, special effects cinematographer who worked on "King Kong," "Citizen Kane" and many other films.

Let's go back to May 28, 1948. Eleanor Winifred Dunn, 35, the mother of four children, got in a cab at Fairfax  Avenue and Sunset Boulevard, never to be seen again. She was wearing a gray suit and green coat, and wasn't carrying any money, The Times said. There are no further stories about her, so we don't know if she was ever found.

In 1957, Lynn Dunn, who was about 9 when her mother vanished, told police the following story: She had been receiving threatening letters, one a week for the last five weeks. The first letters threatened her life while the later ones made "indecent proposals," according to The Times. She also began receiving anonymous phone calls from a man who asked her to meet him in Griffith Park.

1957_0727_lynn_dunnOn July 26, 1957, she was returning home from her job as a telephone service representative when a gunman allegedly jumped into her car while she was stopped at New Hampshire and Finley avenues. Dunn said the man forced her to drive to Griffith Park, dragged her down a 300-foot embankment, beat her, kicked her, ripped her clothes, gave her some yellow pills and tried to attack her but apparently changed his mind.

She fainted when the man fled and was found four hours later by her brother-in-law, James George, 4706 Ambrose St. Her fiance, Don Hendricks, 23, 5333 South St., Glendale, discovered her car parked on Mount Hollywood Drive half a mile west of Griffith Observatory.

Authorities were looking for leads in the Marjorie Hipperson and Ruth Goldsmith killings, so in an attempt to catch the attacker, she agreed to meet a man who called her. She drove to Griffith Park with an FBI agent hidden in the trunk (recall that this is Los Angeles in July), but the man never appeared.

There are no more stories about Lynn Dunn. On Nov. 3, 1957, The Times list of marriage licenses included a Hendricks and Dunn, so they presumably went ahead with their wedding plans.

Beyond that, we simply don't know. It's easy to guess that Dunn's missing mother would resurface if she saw the news stories about the attack, but there's nothing to show that she did.

Linwood Gale Dunn died in 1998 at the age of 93.

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