Dead end

 

June 24, 1957
Los Angeles

Police Capt. Walter R. Koenig was out walking his dog in the 5500 block of Green Oak Drive, where it dead ends in the Hollywood Hills, when he found Baby Boy Doe. 

He was 1 to 3 months old, and someone had wrapped him in blankets and put him in a cardboard box. An animal discovered Baby Boy Doe and dragged him out. "Police said the baby's legs are missing and one appears to have been cleanly severed with a sharp instrument," the Mirror said. He had been dead three or four days.

Koenig told investigators he had seen a young couple in the area a week earlier. When he questioned them about what they were doing, the man asked for directions and they left, Koenig said.

Rest in peace, Baby Boy Doe.

Koenig joined the LAPD in 1938, a watershed year in Los Angles politics because it marked the recall of Mayor Frank Shaw and the reform administration of Fletcher Bowron. In 1964, he became the police chief in Torrance. In 1969, shortly before reaching retirement age, Koenig accepted a teaching job at Georgia State University.

In an extremely rare honor for a police officer, the American Civil Liberties Union paid tribute to Koenig with its Courage of Conviction award. "As chief of police, Koenig, while enforcing the law firmly and fairly, always displayed an awareness of the rights of the individual as embodied in the Constitution," the ACLU said.

Email me

Matt Weinstock

June 15, 1957

It can now be revealed that a dark plot against the Stanfords by the Uclans--an offshoot of the feuding between the two universities as a result of PCC [Pacific Coast Conference] penalties--has been inadvertently thwarted.

Not long ago, Bob Kennedy, a Stanford alumnus in the floor covering business in Westwood, was commissioned to supply carpeting for the Stanford office at 621 S. Hope St., where the university's president, trustees and fundraisers meet.

A number of samples were shown, but for price and quality a beautiful job which could be dyed any color was outstanding.

However, the conservative Indians [Note: Stanford's former mascot, abandoned in the 1970s--lrh] decided it was too lush and selected a slightly cheaper pattern, thereby innocently averting future embarrassment.

It seems that Kennedy's business partners are UCLA grads and they'd planned to treat the white rug in the dyeing process so that in about six months the letters UCLA would appear right in the middle.

ONLY IN PURE L.A. -- A cabby told it to reporter Frank Laro:

Two men got into his cab and asked if he could take them to a place where there were some women. (By the way, this is a frequent request and one fraught with peril).

The cabby cagily drove them to Hollywood Cemetery, handed them the fat taxi tab and said:

"There they are, boys, dig 'em up."

He'd recognized them as vice squad officers.

Hollywood's peeping Toms

June 12, 1957
Los Angeles

Strangler attacks

 

June 11, 1957
Los Angeles

We're parked outside a two-story apartment house at 3737 Los Feliz Blvd. It's late, after 1 a.m. I'll warn you before we go in: I hate this case. I can't say I like any of them, but this one I hate. It's pitiful and tragic and I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to go for a cup of coffee instead.

You sure? OK, come on then. That's her sedan parked at the curb.

This whole area is a hot spot for peeping Toms: It's all apartment houses with bedrooms at the back facing dark alleys. About half a dozen women live here and they all say they have seen men at their windows and that someone has been rattling their doorknobs in the middle of the night. The landlady filed a report not long ago that somebody was stealing underwear off the clothesline and about a year ago, a woman in Apartment 6, next to the murder scene, said some prowler slid a note under her door:

"If you are lonely and want some company, why don't we get acquainted. I am not trying to scare you. I think you and I could have a good time together.

"I'm young and so are you, so let's not waste our time. A friend, I hope."

Another neighbor says a man broke in and choked her last September, but that he ran away when she started screaming.

I figure the guy may have been watching our victim and knew she was living alone. Until a few days ago, she had a roommate--another nurse--but the woman moved out because the victim was getting married to a doctor. She had just come home from a wedding shower when she was killed.

I told you it was nasty.

Notice the front door is locked and chained. She was careful. Not quite careful enough, maybe, but pretty careful. The roommate, Margot Wright,  says that about six months ago, a young man barged into the apartment while she was lying on the bed. Wright told police that she grabbed her purse off the nightstand and the man laughed and ran.

Our victim is named Marjorie Lucille Hipperson, 24, and she's a nurse at Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital. A few hours ago, the staff gave a wedding shower for her and her fiance, Dr. Walter Deike, who's an intern so he spends a couple nights a week at the hospital. In fact, he got called away from the party, so Marjorie wrote him a note before she left:

"Dear Walter: I hope you don't have too tough a night. Get a lot of sleep.

I love you.

Marjorie."

Let's go around the back. Here's where he got in: She left the kitchen window unlocked. Police will find the screen over in the garage of a neighbor who lives at 3745 Los Feliz. Let's go in. Don't touch anything. They're going to find prints all over the place. Notice the apartment hasn't been trashed as it would be if there was a burglary. 

She was a tidy one. Here's the sweater she wore to the party, washed and stretched out to dry on the drainboard. The rest of that outfit is hanging in the closet. OK, here's the living room. You can see she's laid out her clothes for the wedding trip to Chicago and is getting ready to move. The rent runs out in a couple of days and the telephone has already been disconnected.

You sure you don't want to turn around? OK, let's go in the bedroom.

Well, that's her, poor thing. You can see her arms and legs are bruised from fighting with him. Her hands might have been bound at some point, but they're not tied now. White nightgown bunched up around her neck, left arm doubled up behind her back and her right arm stretched out. She's been strangled with a nylon and gagged with a blue washcloth held in place with another nylon, just like the Ruth Goldsmith case, remember? Yeah, she was raped. He apparently didn't steal anything. There's loose money on the bureau and in the drawers.

Nope, nobody heard a sound.

We better get going. In a little while, Dr. Deike is going to start wondering why she hasn't shown up for work. Remember, the phone is disconnected. He's going to come over. He'll see her car at the curb and know she's home. When she doesn't answer the door, he'll come around back and crawl in the kitchen window.

And then he'll find her here.

Walter will remarry--eventually. A woman named Joan. But five years later, he'll be gone too. He's going to go out swimming in Mendocino Bay and drown.

I told you, I hate this case.

 

Let's drop by Mountain View Cemetery in Altadena on our way back and pay our respects.

To be continued....

Email me

Voices

Cliff Dektar was a copy boy for The Times in 1943. He worked for the Mirror from 1950 to 1956, when he left for ABC-TV.

On Jan. 2, 1951, Photographer Bud Gray and I were working the overnight Mirror radio car 91... after 2:30 a.m. the streets really are quiet until around 5 a.m. We had stopped at Hollywood Receiving Hospital and were headed north on Wilcox...I was driving.

The police radio came alive...69 meet 66 at Hollywood and Vine. Well, 69 was a sergeant and 66 was a district radio car and this was a most unusual call at 4:30 a.m. ... so I decided to drive by since it was only a few blocks away.

Amazing... standing on the corner by the  Broadway Hollywood was Mickey Cohen... wearing his hat as usual... and waving his hands with an LAPD Officer Tommy Hutton.  He was agitated.

I nudged Bud, made a U-turn on Vine and parked across the street in front of the Owl drugstore.

I turned off the ignition and strolled across Vine and listened... no note taking.

"If you'll take off your badge and come into the alley and fight me fair and square, I'll give you my wife and my car," growled Mickey.

(The blue Cadillac and his wife were parked a few feet away).

Officer Hutton had written Mickey a traffic citation for not proceeding on a green light--he had stopped to purchase a newspaper.

Mickey refused to sign the ticket.

The sergeant arrived and explained to Mickey that by signing, he did not admit guilt, only to appear.

"If  you don't sign, Mickey, we will take you to jail," the sergeant explained.

Finally, Mickey signed, walked and entered his car, and drove south on Vine.

Meanwhile Bud Gray had set his Speed Graphic so he could shoot from the hip without focusing.

Bud shot four photos... all were excellent.

We jumped back into the radio car, called the office and sped to 2nd and Spring with the photos.

By the time  reporters in the police press room heard about  the incident, everyone  was gone, Mickey, the police and the few spectators.

We had a real beat... four good photos and details... all Page 1.

I thought of how wild Aggie Underwood, city editor of the Herald-Express, would be, as the Mirror guys had beat her team, again.

Email me