The Beautiful Stranger: After All These Years, Lottie Bernard's Story Remains Unanswered

Revisiting the mystery of the woman who died at the Hotel del Coronado in 1892

Some mysteries refuse to remain in the past. They linger, not necessarily because the answers are impossible to find, but because the questions were never adequately answered in the first place.

More than a decade ago, I undertook an extensive investigation into one of California's most enduring historical mysteries: the death of the woman remembered as the Beautiful Stranger at the Hotel del Coronado in November 1892.  Over the course of four installments, I examined contemporary newspaper accounts, historical records, genealogical information, witness statements, and the testimony presented at the original coroner's inquest. I questioned the accepted identification, followed conflicting leads, examined the circumstances surrounding her death, and attempted to reconstruct the woman's movements during her final days.

At the time, I believed there were too many unanswered questions to accept the familiar explanation without further scrutiny. After all these years, I haven't changed my mind. In fact, the more I revisit the evidence, the more convinced I am that the story of the woman who called herself Lottie Bernard deserves another look.

A Name That May Never Have Been Hers

When the woman arrived at the Hotel del Coronado, she registered under the name Lottie A. Bernard. She also used the name Lottie Anderson Bernard and provided information about a brother, reportedly a physician named Anderson, whom she expected to meet. That was the identity she presented during her stay. Yet following her death, investigators began pursuing another possibility: that she was Kate Morgan, a young married woman who had disappeared from Los Angeles.

Eventually, Kate Morgan became the accepted identity, and the story of her tragic marriage and final journey became inseparable from the hotel's history, but there is a distinction that I believe has been overlooked through the years.

Where is the unequivocal identification of the deceased woman by someone who personally knew Kate Morgan?

Her family did not travel to San Diego to identify the remains. Her grandfather, Joseph Chandler, communicated by telegram, authorizing her burial and requesting a statement of expenses. I have always found that detail worth examining. It established his authorization for burial, but did it establish that he had positively identified the deceased as his granddaughter? I don't believe those are necessarily the same thing. Was he convinced the woman was Kate? Did he simply accept the information communicated to him? Or was he anxious to have the matter concluded without further public attention? We cannot know his personal motives from that telegram. But neither should we assign it a significance it does not actually establish.

The identity of the woman deserves to stand on evidence, not assumption.

Two Places. Two Sets of Trunks. One Unanswered Question.

Perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of this investigation concerns the luggage associated with the two identities. There were trunks in Los Angeles containing belongings attributed to Kate Morgan. These included personal effects, photographs, a marriage certificate, and other items that connected a woman named Kate to the Morgan family, but those belongings were not found at the Hotel del Coronado, they were in Los Angeles.

Then there were the trunks at the National City train station, too, that always seem to be overlooked.  

The woman staying at the hotel reportedly had three trunks at the depot and was unable to retrieve them because she needed checks from her brother. A key found among her hotel-room effects reportedly corresponded to one of those trunks. These are two entirely separate baggage histories and that raises a question I have never been able to reconcile satisfactorily:

Why would the woman have trunks in two different locations, and how do we establish that both sets of belongings actually belonged to the same person?

There is another important piece of information, when Kate left the Grant residence in Los Angeles, she reportedly departed with only a satchel. She did not take the luggage that was subsequently associated with her in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, the woman at the Hotel del Coronado was speaking about luggage in National City that she could not retrieve.

If these two women were one and the same, how do we account for the movements of their belongings?Who transported the trunks? When were they deposited? Who eventually claimed the National City luggage? What was inside? These questions are not accusations. They are the practical questions of historical reconstruction.

Finding Kate Morgan's belongings in Los Angeles may establish a connection between those objects and Kate. It does not automatically establish that the woman who died at the hotel was the person who owned them.  I would still very much like to know the complete disposition and ownership history of those National City trunks.

The Cartridges That Were Never Accounted For

Another detail that has always bothered me concerns the pistol and ammunition. The woman purchased a firearm and subsequently purchased two bits' worth of cartridges. For those unfamiliar with the terminology of the period, two bits represented twenty-five cents. At the time, that amount would have purchased several cartridges, not merely one.Yet when the woman's personal effects were inventoried, ammunition was not listed. Where were the cartridges? Were they loaded into the pistol? Were any remaining cartridges found on her person? Were they disposed of elsewhere? Were they taken by someone? And perhaps most importantly, was the pistol examined to establish how many cartridges had been fired and how many remained?

These are questions that should be answered through the original testimony and surviving evidence.

The fact that ammunition was not included in the inventory does not, by itself, establish foul play, but it does leave an accounting question that deserves attention.  I also examined the medical testimony, the description of the wound, the absence of documented powder burns, and the circumstances surrounding the discovery of the pistol. I am not claiming that these details prove murder but I am saying that a conclusion of suicide should be evaluated against the actual physical and medical evidence, not simply accepted because it became the official determination.

The Inquest: What Did the Witnesses Actually Say?

One of the most important parts of my original investigation was my examination of the coroner's inquest. I did not simply repeat what later writers had summarized. I worked from the testimony and quoted the witnesses extensively. I examined the accounts of the people who encountered the woman, the circumstances surrounding her purchase of the firearm and ammunition, her movements in San Diego, and the events leading up to her death. I also examined the inconsistencies between certain accounts.

When we revisit a historical case, we must be careful not to allow the conclusions of later generations to overshadow what the original witnesses actually said. A witness's statement is evidence. A newspaper's interpretation of that statement is something else. And a conclusion repeated for more than a century does not automatically become more reliable simply through repetition.

The original testimony deserves to be read carefully, in its entirety, and in context.

Was There a Reason to Bring the Case to a Close?

The death of a mysterious young woman at one of California's most celebrated hotels was sensational news. The story attracted attention well beyond San Diego. It involved an unidentified woman, a questionable name, a firearm, a possible troubled marriage, and an unexplained death. The Hotel del Coronado was hardly an ordinary establishment. Its reputation and prestige were important, and a sensational murder investigation on its property would hardly have been desirable publicity.

I have often wondered whether the desire to put an end to the sensationalism influenced the way the investigation was handled. I have not established documentary proof that hotel ownership pressured law enforcement or that evidence was deliberately suppressed. I would not present that as fact but I do believe it is reasonable to ask whether the investigation received the depth of scrutiny it warranted.

The coroner's determination came quickly. The identity question, however, continued to develop through subsequent inquiries and the discovery of belongings in Los Angeles. There is a difference between bringing an investigation to a conclusion and actually resolving every question surrounding a death.  I am not convinced those two things happened simultaneously.

So, Who Was Lottie Bernard?

This is where I find myself returning to the beginning. The woman told people she was Lottie Bernard. She spoke of a brother, had luggage at a train station, purchased a pistol and ammunition, and left behind personal effects that offered clues but did not provide a complete explanation of her identity.

Was she Kate Morgan using an assumed name? Was she someone else entirely? Was there another woman whose story became entangled with Kate Morgan's because of a series of circumstantial connections? Could the woman have been involved in circumstances far more complicated than the familiar story suggests? I don't pretend to know and I am not going to manufacture an answer simply because a mystery has been allowed to stand for so long. However, I do believe there is a difference between a theory that has become accepted history and a historical fact that has been conclusively established.

The Beautiful Stranger's identity belongs in the latter category only if the evidence can support it.

More Than a Century Later, the Questions Remain

I originally began this investigation because something about the accepted story did not sit right with me. I followed the records, examined the testimony, investigated the competing identities, and tried to make sense of the contradictions. I published my findings in four installments more than a decade ago. Time has passed, but story has continued to be told. The Hotel del Coronado remains famous for its Beautiful Stranger, and Kate Morgan's name has become permanently attached to the mystery.

But I still find myself asking the same questions: 

• Who was the woman who registered as Lottie Bernard?
• Why were there separate sets of trunks in Los Angeles and National City?
• Where did the cartridges go?
• Why did she write Frank's name over and over on a paper in her room?
  
• Was this Frank mentioned, the same man she met at the store at the gaslamp quarter earlier? 
• How was he involved, and why wasn't that lead followed?
• Who was H. Bernard in Mt. Vernon, and why did he request a description of the deceased? 

Perhaps the woman was Kate Morgan. Perhaps the accepted explanation is ultimately correct, but I don't believe the surviving evidence should be treated as more conclusive than it actually is.

There is also something else worth remembering.

Before she became a ghost story, before her name became part of the Hotel del Coronado's history, and before generations of visitors came searching for the Beautiful Stranger, she was a real woman who lived, traveled, worried, made plans, and ultimately died under circumstances that remain troublingly unclear.  She called herself Lottie Bernard, but we still don't know who she really was, and after all these years, I don't believe her story is finished.

The original four-part investigation originally published in 2013, including my examination of the historical records and coroner's inquest testimony, can be found here:

https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-1.html

https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-2.html

https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-3.html

https://dreamingcasuallypoetry.blogspot.com/2013/11/who-was-beautiful-stranger-part-4.html

Dead Men Do Tell Tales -- How I Stumbled Upon The Last Hanging in Calaveras County

George Washington Cox

It all started with a book. Roland and I were at the Friends of the Library in Stockton, a frequent haunt of ours, when we found an older, historical book about the gold country titled, Motherlode Memories.  Roland purchased it and started going through the pages in the car. He pointed out to several places we are familiar with and a few we hadn't seen before. This past weekend he pulled out the book and said, "Let's go up to San Andreas, and see if we can find these two men's graves so I can put their photos on Find-a-grave."  

The two men he was speaking of were Sheriff Ben Thorn and Judge Gottschalk. They were the two men pictured on the pages in the historical book he was looking at. The page also showed a photo of the backside of the courthouse with a small blurb underneath that read "The courtyard in the rear of the restored 1868 San Andreas courthouse and jail was landscaped by the students of San Joaquin Delta College in Stockton. The last hanging from the gallows in this courtyard occurred in 1870." - (pg 102, Motherlode Memories). The page also had photographs of the Black Bart Inn and Ben Thorn's house as well. In the usual way that we do, we jumped in the car and headed up to San Andreas to do some history hunting.  

We searched for Pixley Lane and found ourselves going up a windy road up to an old cemetery on top of a hillside. 

People's Cemetery, San Andreas, CA

We wandered the grounds for a good hour or longer, before I stumbled upon Judge Gottschalk's grave, but we never did find Sheriff Thorn. As we were leaving the cemetery, we passed by a reddish marble stone that read George Washington Cox. I noticed the name right away, and Roland even spoke his name out loud as we passed by. It was apparent that we were meant to see or acknowledge that grave for some reason, but at the time we didn't know why.

So up to the Courthouse we drove, to take photos of the buildings on the main street. As I passed by the courthouse steps I noticed that they were open, so I walked right on in. I met up with a docent there and started talking to her about another story I have been planning to write about that took place in Valley Springs, and I wanted permission to use the Historical Society's photograph for my blog. We started talking and I gave her one of my business cards and Roland purchased our tickets to take a tour of the courthouse museum. 

The courthouse upstairs is beautiful, and preserved just as it was when Judge Gottschalk sentenced the infamous Black Bart to prison for his stage coach robberies throughout the motherlode. But it wasn't the courtroom that intrigued me, it was the jail that I wanted to see.  As I walked down the brick walkway down the side of the old courthouse and made my way around to the back yard of the property, I recognized the scene from the old black and white photo in Roland's book. This was the spot where the last hanging occurred. 

"I wish I knew who that person was", I told Roland, as I walked up to the back steps of the jail.

"Look, I am going to jail," I said, as I made a hand gesture as if I was handcuffed in front. I smiled and I walked into the jail.   

It was quiet and dark. Suddenly the motion censor lights came on. It startled me, I cannot deny that. Nothing paranormal about it though. I made my way to the back hallway where the cells were. I walked into one of the cells and tried to imagine how it must have felt to have been incarcerated there.  The etched names and initials carved into the walls were abundant. Who were these men? What stories did they have to tell? Were any of them among those who met their ending just steps away in the back yard? 

As I walked around, filming my experience there, Roland called out to me. 

"Hey, come over here," he said. "Remember that grave in the cemetery , George Washington Cox? He was the last guy they hanged here."

I walked into the small room off the main jail entry way, and there it was: a glass case with chain mail on display, a photograph of George, a small invitation to the ghastly affair (his execution) and at the bottom was a photocopy of a photograph of a man and woman (possibly George and his wife?) and a letter in his own hand, made out to one of his daughters, Medie Cox Damon, written just a month before he was hanged.

It seemed too coincidental to the both of us that we both noticed his grave at the cemetery earlier, and then like following invisible footsteps on a map, we happened to end up at the very spot in which George met his final ending. I sat down on the concrete floor and read his letter aloud. Roland had stepped outside to take more photos. No one was there, and I was all alone in the jail. You could hear a pin fall it was so quiet. 

The letter read:

"Saturday, July 6th, 1888

My Dear Daughter,    

Cox's Letter

I am very hopeful for a new consider in life but think it is with no effect. All you are doing for  me will prove worthless to me. I came home to see my children and by doing so, I walk in my grave. I am filling the position I was born to fill, and think no more about dying than going to sleep, everybody has got to pull over the same hill to meet in death valley, I am on the fence and can fall two different ways. I wish you all success in life hoping you and your husband may see many happy days. There is no change in my feelings, my constitution has been hardened to the capacity of steel by a band of dishonest men. I could write you a great many things, I don't fear death a bit, but I have been abused from my birth to the present day. Tell Mr. Damon to come down.

Yours Affectionately,

G.W. Cox"

I sat there at the jailhouse and started to cry. The letter seemed very sad, and the thought of a person's life ending and those were his last written words to a loved one really got to me. I wanted to know more. Why did he hang? What did he do? What happened?

There was a small paper in the glass cabinet that shed further light on the story.

"George Washington Cox goes down in Calaveras County history as the last man hanged in the jail yard. Soon after his hanging, the privilege of conducting hanging went to San Quentin.

Cox shot his son-in-law while having paranoid delusions of him having an affair with his wife. After he had shot and killed him, he put his armor on and gathered his knives and turned himself in to Ben Thorn, the county sheriff."

Well, it wouldn't be the first time a son-in-law was caught sleeping with his mother-in-law, trust me, I know of a few stories personally in the last few generations that this happened in different families. 

But, did George's wife and son-in-law actually do that? I needed to know more. 

We drove back up to the cemetery for the second time in the same day, and went right back to that grave we had passed by just a few hours earlier. I stopped and his grave and sat down, I took photos and I read out loud the letter he wrote to his daughter. I wondered, did his daughter ever read the letter? Or was she too distraught over the whole situation that she never accepted it, and thus it ended up back at the courthouse among items on display at the museum?

As soon as we left and returned home, I started searching the archived newspapers of the time to see if I could dig up anymore on this perplexing story. 

The first thing I wanted to see was if he had a memorial on Find-a-grave, and he did. 

So, I kept searching the archived newspapers of the time, to see what light I could shed on this story that literally found me.

The Amador Ledger, dated November 12, 1887 elaborated a bit more:

Cox's items on display at the Jail.

"On Thursday afternoon, Geo. Cox went to Sheep Ranch and gave himself up to the authorities, stating that he had killed his son-in-law H.G. Cook. Cox, when taken into custody had a Winchester rifle, a Winchester revolver, a dirk knife with a ten inch blade, and a coat of armor, the latter is made of steel wire, and weighs about 25 lbs. From the evidence of Mrs. Cox, before the coroner's inquest it appears that Cox, Cook and one of the children were eating dinner.  Cox got up from the table and went through a hall into a bedroom and taking his Winchester rifle, he stepped to the door leading from the hall to the dining room, and fired a shot at Cook, who was seated at the dinner table. The bullet struck Cook in the left breast and passed through his body. 

Cook stood up and then fell to the floor, Cox firing another shot as Cook fell, which struck the table in front of the little boy. Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Cook were in the room when the second shot was fired and before Cox had reloaded his rifle the third time, Mrs. Cook sprang across the room and caught hold of the gun and pushed Cox into the hall. During the struggle Cox kicked his daughter and struck her on the head with the rifle, which knocked her down, but she got up and pushed Cox out of the house and locked the door.

Cox went to a window and pointed his rifle at Mrs. Cook and swore he was prepared for any of them. In all probability Cox would have killed his wife and daughter had not the latter caught the assassin and put him out of the house by main strength. There appears to have been no cause whatever for committing the murder. There had not been an angry word spoken that day, or on any previous occasion by either of the men to one another. the coroner's jury charged Cox with having committed a cold-blooded murder. "

So by that point, it appears the rumor about his wife's infidelity hadn't gotten around in the community just yet. So when and where did this rumor start?

Digging into the archived newspapers little more, I found that a friend of Cox's, a Mr. Dave Reed, came to the authorities to tell them that just after Cox had killed Henry Cook, he came over to his Reed's cabin and asked him to help him gather his belongings from the house. He didn't tell Reed what had just transpired, so when Reed went into the house to get Cox's belongings he didn't know why everyone was crying. He gathered his things and left. Soon after, Mrs. Cox went to Reed's cabin and told him what happened and Reed went back to the house and went into the dining room and saw Mr. Cook dead on the floor. He claims this was the first he knew about it, when Mrs. Cox told him.

About fifteen years ago, a historian by the name of Walt Motloch shared more information to journalist Dana Nichols for a piece in the Stockton Record. Motloch uncovered even more regarding the story, which didn't necessarily settle the rumors, but instead created more confusion about the motive of the killing itself.

According to the news article dated in 2007, three different descendants of George Washington Cox have come to three different conclusions about what happened.  Joette Farrand, a great-great granddaughter of Cox, believed he was set up, and that there were people who wanted to get him "out of the way," so-to-speak. Now, this goes in line in a way with what Cox speaks in his letter about a "band of dishonest men."

Was he speaking about certain people plotting against him? Feeding him with false ideas? Knowing all too well he was like a ticking time bomb ready to go off at the next rumor that he heard? Or was the "band of dishonest men" simply the jury who convicted him?

The next descendant, Lee Rude, claimed that he had heard Cox had abandoned the family for 12 years, and only returned around the time of the murder. According to the Record's account, the Calaveras Prospect mentioned that Cox was a drifter who went from place to place, job to job and came back to seek revenge on the "injuries done" to him. 

But what were these great injuries done to him? And why his son-in-law, unless there actually was a reason for the killing?

Lastly, Jan Cook, another one of Cox's great grandchildren eludes to the idea that he was mentally unstable, not knowing where he was half the time, and being "weak mentally." So was he mentally incapacitated at the time of the murder? If so, why not send him to the Stockton Asylum? Why condemn him to the gallows? 

The more information being spread the more confusing it had became. 

Do I believe he specifically came to Calaveras to exact revenge on his son-in-law?  I am not sure. But where did he get this information that his wife was being unfaithful in the first place? It had to come from somewhere. Was he upset that he spent years of his life, working wherever he could to make a living (possibly sending the money to his family) only to find out his wife was sleeping around?

First and foremost, I am not accusing his wife of something that hasn't been said before. For the record, I don't know if she was faithful to him or not, just as I don't know whether Cox had any true merit to his accusations against her. But something was going on, whether it was reality or all in his mind. And if it was all in his mind, again, why did the jury not seek to send him to the Asylum in Stockton? 

By Cox's own admission during his trial, he believed his act was a defense to his family. Why would he say that if he didn't feel a real threat to himself or his family? 

The article in the Stockton Record from 2007, claims that Cox later admitted (after his trial) that the rumors he believed about his son-in-law were unfounded. 

But where is this documentation? (Not to say it wasn't said, but I would certainly like to see that for myself).

The Sacramento Daily Record Union, dated September 1, 1888, gives a little more insight into Cox's state of mind when he killed Cook when it reads, "The crime for which Cox suffered the death penalty was for the murder of his son-in-law, Henry Cook, near Sheep Ranch, in this county on November 3rd last. The murderer shot the young man while he was eating dinner, without any warning whatsoever. 

Cox claimed that his son-in-law had threatened to take his life, and had listened to evil stories concerning Cook and his (Cox') wife. The case was tried in January last and the death penalty affixed, and on appeal to the Supreme Court the judgement was affirmed."

When Cox was tried for the murder, in January of 1888, it was said that it only took the jury approximately one half of an hour to come to their verdict. Cox tried to appeal it, as the newspaper above mentions, and at one point, his execution was delayed.

According to the Los Angeles Herald, dated March 24, 1888, Cox's hanging was postponed, as it was originally scheduled for March 23, 1888. The final date was set for August 31, 1888, one final meeting at the gallows that Cox would not be able to avoid. 

It is apparent that Sheriff Thorn found the entire ordeal unpleasant, as he so did state at the execution and also by the way he had the invitations to the execution designed. 

The Sacramento Daily Union even mentioned it on August 24, 1888, that the invitation was printed on a card with a deep mourning border. This is telling.  If Thorn so believed that Cox was such a horrid, murderer, he would have had a simple card printed, but this one had meaning, symbolism for that time period. One of not just mourning, but "deep mourning," as the journalist had put it. 

The Jail Yard, where Cox was hanged on 8/31/1888

"Brave to the Last"

Execution of George W. Cox Yesterday at San Andreas

San Andreas, August 31st, George W. Cox was executed today in the jail yard at 10:30 a.m. by Sheriff Benjamin Thorne [SIC]. The death warrant was read to the condemned man shortly after 10 o'clock, in the presence of several officers and physicians. The Sheriff informed Cox that he had an  unpleasant duty to perform and Cox replied, "Go on, Mr. Sheriff, and do your duty."

The condemned man was laboring under some excitement, for his pulse was 140 immediately before being led on to the scaffold, but his manner and words were brave to the last. He walked to and on the scaffold without any hesitation, and assisted the Sheriff in adjusting the straps and the black cap. He made the remark that he was not sorry for anything he had ever done in his life, and as the black cap was slipped over his head he told the Sheriff not to smother him.

At 10:35 o'clock the drop fell and the neck of Cox was broken. He died without a struggle and no pulse was perceptible after the drop. About one hundred persons witnessed the execution." -- Sacramento Daily Record-Union, Sept, 1, 1888.

Spot where the gallows once stood.

Conclusion

George Washington Cox went to his grave with no regrets, or so he stated. But did he really? Were there any actions in his lifetime he may have regretted? It appeared that his emotional letter to his daughter revealed his weakness, his love of his children. Maybe in his mind, if he truly believed his son-in-law was sleeping with his wife, he felt it was a betrayal to his daughter as much as it was to himself. If this rumor had any truth to it at all, it would ruin both marriages, and disrupt the family forever. Maybe Cox just couldn't handle the idea of his daughter's heart being broken, or becoming hardened as his had.

Will we ever know if the stories he believed about his wife and his son-in-law had any merit at all?

Unfortunately, only the people involved in that event that took place back in 1887 know the truth to that story. We can sit and speculate all we want, but we may never know the truth. Cox could have been within his rights to believe his wife was being unfaithful, he may have been threatened by his son-in-law as he stated. Those rumors could have had truth to them. On the flip side, Cox could have been believing lies told to him by others, or perhaps even ideas that he came to on his own. 

Was Cox's mind troubled? Did he truly abandon his family for years on end? Or was he working on any job he could to send money to his family, in order to support them? How will we ever know for certain? Unless we have actual records to state either or, we will never know for sure but the story itself was one I couldn't pass up on sharing with all of you.

As many times in my history hunting, Roland and I come across stories that literally fall into our laps. We aren't necessarily looking for them, most times we are searching for something else and those other stories just happen to find us. I am then compelled to tell these stories of the forgotten, no matter whether they are: infamous, famous or unremembered, because I believe every grave has a story to tell, and as long as I am here, I will remain a voice to the voiceless so they will be forgotten no more.

Final Resting Place of G.W.Cox

(Copyright 2022 - J'aime Rubio www.jaimerubiowriter.com)

Photos: 
Grave of George W. Cox, Peoples Cemetery, San Andreas (Copyright, J'aime Rubio)

Photos inside and outside of San Andreas Courthouse/Jail/Jail
yard (Copyright, J'aime Rubio)

Sources:

Motherlode Memories, by Dr. R. Coke Wood & Leonard Covello, published by Valley Publishers, 1979. 

San Andreas Museum (photos)

Newspapers: Amador Ledger, 11/12/1887; Amador Dispatch, 11/19/1887; Sacramento Daily Record-Union, 8/24/1888; Amador Dispatch, 9/1/1888; Sacramento Daily Record Union, 11/05/1887,  Los Angeles Herald, 3/24/1888; Sacramento Daily Record Union, 9/1/1888; Stockton Record, 5/4/2007.

J’aime Rubio is a historical nonfiction author and researcher who has published six books specializing in California and histories throughout North America. Her work focuses on uncovering and preserving the authentic stories of people and places that have been overlooked, misrepresented, or forgotten. She is the creator of  the Stories of the Forgotten series.

1898 Shingle Springs Tragedy - A Precursor to Domestic Homicide 20 Years Later

 

“History will always repeat itself.” Those were the words of Greek historian Thucydides, spoken in the 5^th Century BC, and yet still today, no truer words could be spoken.

In fact, in my line of work researching the past, I have often found tragedies which seemed to repeat themselves in a later generation, almost as if it were some sort of vicious cycle. As if a sinister, cosmic wheel kept spinning in the same circle within a family lineage, like a broken record, repeating the events with no rhyme or reason as to why.

Today, I am going to share with you the story of Albina Keyes, but we will also take a deep dive into her family history to see just how death seemed to follow the women in her family, almost as if in a pattern, one after the other, just in different time periods.

Several years ago, I shared the sad events relating to the murder of  Albina. As tragic as her story was, I had no idea that years later, I would come in contact with her great, great grand daughter Adria Bowman, and together we would unravel another family mystery. The odd thing about Albina’s story was that the more we dug into her family history, the more we discovered that this story had all happened once before.

Photo of Amanda Dale

So, before I get to the details of Albina’s life and death, first I will share with you the original tragedy, the one that I believe started it all.  It all begins in the Miwok Village within the area of Shingle Springs, California.

The year is 1898, and Mary Robinson and her daughter Amanda Dale are living on the Miwok reservation at Shingle Springs, California. Amanda’s father, Abraham Dale and her mother, Mary, had split earlier on in Amanda’s life. Mary remarried two more times, eventually settling down with a Native American medicine man by the name of William Joseph, and they had several children together.  Mary, Amanda’s mother, was half Native American and half black, while Amanda’s father was of English descent.  

Amanda was an adult by this time in 1898. In fact, she was 21 years old, with two children of her own. When Amanda was just 14 years old, she fell in love with an older, married man, and found herself in a precarious position. The man, Francisco Bergala, a native of Chile, had moved up to the gold country during the Gold Rush and settled there, eventually marrying Susan Nieda of Sutter Creek. The two had seven children together.

According to documented records, during the summer of 1890, Susan had to undergo an operation for some sort of health issue, and it rendered her an invalid for the rest of her life. Instead of taking care of his wife and children, Francisco left his wife’s care with his children and he took Amanda as his “common law” wife. Soon, his first family found themselves destitute and begging for assistance from the county for financial aid in order to survive.

News spread around the area quickly, and soon Francisco found himself indicted not only for adultery, but also rape, being that Amanda was only 14 years old at the time they had relations. Not only that, but Amanda also soon found herself pregnant, and in October of 1891, Amanda gave birth to her first child, Albina Bergala.

The newspapers relay the story in the Mountain Democrat dated January 23, 1892, mentioning that the Grand Jury indicted Francisco, and a guilty verdict was found. It appears as though he didn’t do any real jail time, as the records stated he faced 125 days in jail or a fine of $250.

It looks as though eventually Francisco Bergala was out of the picture, and Amanda started a relationship and eventually married Jack “Acorn Jack” Nickel, who happened to be her step-father’s nephew. After thorough research into the case, both Adria and I have come to the conclusion that Amanda possibly had one other child, this time with Jack. 

According to oral histories transcribed of William Joseph, Amanda’s step-father, he stated that Amanda and her brother Jesseway’s paternal grandmother, had passed away in Missouri, and since their father Abraham had predeceased her, an inheritance was owed to the two siblings.

“The grandmother of those two died in Missouri, and apparently left everything to them, money and a ten-thousand-dollar house in a town in Missouri. This girl, Mandy said, “Write for me, stepfather, I want five hundred and fifty dollars,” she said. “The money my grandmother left is said to be there, left for me.” I wrote her uncle who was called Jacob C. Dale, the check came.” -- William Joseph, oral history.

Sadly though, Amanda did not keep her personal financial information a secret and when she became involved with Jack Nickel, she later found this was a terrible mistake. Once Acorn Jack learned that she had a substantial inheritance, and after becoming her husband, he took the money and squandered it on booze and gambling. It lasted a grand total of three months without Amanda ever having seen one dime of it.

One day while William Joseph was at work, which was just over the hill, a fight between Amanda and Jack ensued. The newspapers mentioned that it was jealousy that threw Jack into a fit of rage, and he took his rifle and shot Amanda and her mother, Mary, killing them both.

“Triple Homicide”-- “Last Saturday afternoon, near the Greenstone mine, at the home of his mother-in-law, Mrs. Wm. Joseph, a quadroon*. Jack Nickel shot and killed her and his wife, an octoroon.*  In shooting the latter he wounded a child which she was holding in her arms, and having finished his deadly work he pulled off one his shoes, put the muzzle of his Winchester rifle against his heart, touched the trigger with his tow and fell dead with the gun by his side.

A little daughter of Mrs. Joseph, twelve years old, was the only eyewitness. A few minutes after the shooting, George Wade carried the news to Shingle Springs and notice came thence to the coroner, by whom inquests were held the following day. For some time, the Indian had been sick and using some sort of medicine and whether too much of the drug or the devil instigated the brutal homicide may never be known.”—Mountain Democrat, November 19^th, 1898

According to a transcribed account given by William Joseph of what transpired that day, as he recalled it while working with his boss, J.D. Annette:

“Acorn Jack must have been angry that day. There were hunters shooting there all the time.

I said “I seem to hear shooting.”

“But maybe it’s those hunters,” J.D. Annette said. “I have heard women crying right over at your house. Let us go and see!”

“We went. We met my daughter running. “He has killed my mother and my elder sister!” she said.

And J.D. Annette said, “Don’t go! He will kill you!” 

“Never mind, I am going, I want to see my wife!”

“Wait, I will give you my gun!”

He gave me his gun, a Winchester. I went to the house. He (his boss) went to the top of that hill to watch me from there. I saw my wife laying on her back, dead. Going on, I saw the girl laying on her side. Close to her lay the little two-month old baby, his bullet had apparently grazed its chin.

I said, “Maybe he is inside.” I ran past the doorway. I saw that fellow laying in front of me, he  had evidently killed himself, shot himself in the breast. The bullet had apparently not gone through. I shouted to J.D. Annette, “Come, that fellow has evidently killed himself!”

We picked up only the two women and took them inside. We did not take that Acord Jack but let him lie in the same place. Then I went to tell the police. A lot of white men arrived. After keeping them for two days, I buried them all. That is what Acorn Jack did there, he killed my wife. That is that.” --- Story # 70,  "Nisenan Texts & Dictionary," by Uldall & Shipley, published by University of California Press, dated 1/1/1966. 

 – University of California Press, published Jan, 1, 1966., U.C. Berkeley.

No more was ever noted about the two-month-old baby, so there is no information as to where he or she ended up. However, we do know that Amanda’s older child, Albina, who was only 7 years old at the time ended up with her father, Francisco Bergala.

So, one would assume that Albina would go off to live with her father and things would work out, right? Wrong. Unfortunately, fate had its sights set on poor Albina, and it was going to follow her to the very end.

History Repeats Itself-

The year was 1907, and by this time Albina was 15 years old.  Census records noted that she and her father were living in Plymouth at the time.  Like her mother did only a little over 15 years ago, it appears that Albina caught the eye of a much older, John “Jack” Keyes, who was 13 years her senior, and the couple started a sexual relationship.  At some point her father must have told her that she wasn’t allowed to see Jack Keyes, because the Amador Dispatch dated October 11, 1907, states that Keyes was arrested for the abduction of Albina. In reality, Albina had run off to be with him, but because Keyes was an adult at the time, he was accountable to the law.

While still in jail, Albina and her father visited Keyes, and it was decided that all charges would be dropped if he agreed to marry his daughter. So, the couple were legally wed on January 16, 1908.

Things started off on the wrong foot, so-to-speak, because Albina gave birth to their first son alone, while Jack (and his brother Edward Keyes) were doing time in the penitentiary. They had been arrested for burglary and sent to San Quentin.

John "Jack" Keyes

Because of “good behavior” the two were paroled early. Jack was released September 1910, while Edward was released in 1911.

During the time that Jack was incarcerated, Albina and her son, Johnny moved back with her father. The census records for 1910 shows them living in Plymouth with Francisco.

When Keyes was released Albina and Johnny went back with him. 

Not even a year later, Jack and Albina are in the newspapers again, this time after their son Johnny went missing. The Amador Ledger mentions that three-year-old Johnny disappeared, but later his parents admitted that he had been given away to campers named Mr. & Mrs. Smith, who had recently lost their own child. According to the Keyes (Jack and Albina) they had given their child away to the family because they couldn’t afford to take care of him, as they were in financial difficulties. No one ever found out who these alleged campers were, and no records have ever been found to validate their story.

When I read this information, I was taken aback. Something in my gut said this story just didn’t add up. And it still doesn’t.  Steve Jones, genealogist, and Find-a-grave contributor, whom I have been in contact with for several years regarding Albina’s story, also thought the story was suspicious, as did Albina’s great-great granddaughter Adria, as well.  All three of us have speculated that Johnny’s disappearance didn’t happen the way Keyes claimed, and that perhaps little Johnny met an untimelier ending, and sadly, one that we will never be able to confirm.

Moving forward, Albina and Jack went on to have more children. Marguerite was born in 1913, William in 1915, and lastly Marie on March 6, 1918.

According to the newspaper articles discovered by Steve Jones, they state that 5 year-old Marguerite died at a Sacramento hospital on May 10, 1918, which was the result of swallowing a pine nut which lodged in her throat a few days before. Her grandmother, Marguerite Keyes Morales, brought her to the hospital in Sacramento for treatment. The nut had been removed by way of an operation, but she died from the infection that followed her surgery. She was buried in the Keyes family plot in Plymouth.

Unfortunately, this would not be the last of the tragedies to befall Albina or the family itself.

The original article I discovered so many years ago, the very story that first drew my attention to Albina’s story, reads:

The Tragedy -- August 29, 1918

"Brutal Husband Kills Wife And Child With Axe-

One of the most brutal murders it has been our duty to record occurred yesterday sometime before noon at the Head place*, about two miles up the ridge from the Summit House, when Jack Keyes with the blunt side of an axe crushed the skull of his wife, Bina Keyes, aged 24, and then inflicted a fatal blow with the same instrument on the forehead of their 6 month old daughter, Marie Keyes. 

The first known of the crime was about 8:30 last night, when Keyes came to the County Hospital in Jackson and asked Superintendent Murphy for some poison.  Murphy asked what he wanted it for, and Keyes replied that his had killed his wife and baby with an axe. Murphy told him it was hard to get poison but Mr. Dodd, the nurse, would take him down town for some, and while they walked away from the building Murphy quickly called up the Sheriff, who met Keyes shortly after this side of the hospital. Keyes told the Sheriff he had killed his wife and baby because a lady told him his wife was an anarchist. The Sheriff placed Keyes in jail and went to the scene of the murder.

When asked why he killed the child, Keyes said he figured the baby was an anarchist also. He said he struck his wife several times with the axe before the fatal blow crushed her skull. After the murder Keyes washed the bodies, dressed and covered them. He sat around the house during the afternoon, until the time he came to Jackson.

Keyes showed absolutely no signs of being intoxicated, as testified to by both Superintendent Murphy and Sheriff Lucot at the inquest held here today by Coroner Dolores A. Potter.

During the inquest Keyes, angered at the removal of a stove poker from his reach, sprang from his chair and attacked Deputy Sheriff Ford. Instantly a dozen men were on the job and a well-directed blow on the murderer's neck by Telephone Manager Watts, a juryman, floored the belligerent.

When asked if he had anything to say, Keyes said he wanted to be hanged. Other than that, he made no further statement. Keyes has been in trouble before. It is said he and his wife quarreled frequently. She feared to return to him from the County Hospital, where the baby was born on March 6 of this year." ---Amador Dispatch (8/30/1918)

*(The Head Ranch was located east of Sutter Creek/Sutter Hill, up Ridge Road, near the Summit Ridge. This was the ranch owned by James Head, the step-father of the infamous Black Widow of Amador County, the one and only Emma LeDoux. She was made infamous for the brutal murder of her husband Albert McVicar in 1906, as well as being a bigamist. To read about her story, please go to the link here: https://jaimerubiowriter.blogspot.com/2018/05/emma-ledoux-black-widow-of-amador.html  )

By October of 1918, Keyes was declared unfit for trial due to being “insane,” and was sent down to the Stockton State Hospital for treatment until fit to be tried for the murders. By May 23^rd, 1919, Keyes made headlines once again, when he escaped from the Stockton State Hospital by “slipping out of line passing from one yard to another.”

He was on the lam for about 6 months when Amador County Sheriff George Lucot received a tip that Keyes might be at the Lincoln Ranch. Quickly, Lucot went to check out his lead, and sure enough, he was able to apprehend his prisoner.

One note that I would like to make is that in my research of stories pertaining to crimes in Amador County history, I have found so many times that Sheriff Lucot is personally involved in apprehending the criminal. Sheriff George Lucot was the longest standing Sheriff in Amador County history, and to my knowledge, the State of California, and possibly even the United States as a whole, as well. George Lucot became Sheriff in 1914 and retired in 1954, making his career of a Sheriff a grand total of 40 years.

While investigating the local history within Amador County, I have watched stories reveal themselves to me, by way of the old microfilms at the library. Case by case, Sheriff Lucot always seemed to be one step ahead, catching the bad guy and saving the day. He has become a hero in my book, just as Sheriff Phoenix is to me, (the very first Amador County Sheriff).

From hostage crisis situations, attempting to spearhead the rescue of the greatest mining accident in U.S. history, down to hunting down a murderer, even going across state lines in order to do so, George Lucot saw it all, did it all, and was prepared to do whatever it took to catch his prisoner. With his keen investigation skills, he remained the larger-than-life force that Amador County needed for so many years.

Back to the story-

After being apprehended on November 10, 1919, Keyes was declared sane enough for trial, but pled guilty on November 14, and was sentenced on Monday, November 17, by Judge Wood. On November 20, 1919, Keyes was received at San Quentin Prison, but only lasted there for a week, and was then transferred on November 28, 1919 to Folsom, where he remained for the time being. The 1920 Census records show him as a “quarryman” and of course, an inmate, at Folsom. His records note that he was then transferred to the Napa Asylum on November 16, 1921 – and from there things get sketchy.

According to notes by Dorothy Pinotti, she claimed he died while at Napa and his remains were brought back to Plymouth and buried in the Keyes family plot at the cemetery. However, there are no death records available to validate this. Even Napa County Hospital was unable to confirm this with me. You see, there is a John Keys (not Keyes) listed in the 1930 and 1940 Census records at the hospital in Napa, but the information on this person does not match our Keyes. For one, John Keys in the 1930 census states his mother and father are from Ohio, while we know our John KEYES’ parents were from Ireland and Canada. I scoured through the patient list for the entire hospital and found a few other “Keys” but no one with the same name, and no one with matching family background. It is as if John Joseph Keyes just vanished.

And with no death certificate available on record, I cannot definitively state that he is buried at the Keyes family plot in Plymouth. So, the whereabouts of his remains and his mortal ending is still somewhat of a mystery, for now.

So what happened to baby Johnny, who disappeared at 3 years of age? Did John Keyes really give him away to campers, or was it something more sinister? Did he kill his own child? How did little Marguerite choke on the pine nut? Was that all just an accident, too? We know for a fact, John lost it mentally, when he took an axe to his wife and infant daughter Marie, but was he responsible for more deaths than theirs?

What boggles my mind is the fact that by writing about that one tragedy so many years ago, a story I had unknowingly stumbled upon, in turn has slowly unraveled and uncovered the skeletons of old family secrets hidden between the pages of the old archives, just waiting and yearning to be told once more. The names of those people who hadn’t been uttered in over a hundred or more years, were once spoken of and their stories brought back to life again.

When I initially wrote about the tragic story of Albina Keyes’ death it stuck with me. I was emotionally driven by this story to find her grave, although sadly she has no marker for you to visit. Thanks to Steve Jones’ sleuthing, he found the original sexton cards for the Jackson City Cemetery which provides clues to where Albina and baby Marie were buried, but their graves are still unmarked.

Albina's Burial Card (Sexton Record) 

I believe that Amanda Dale and Mary Robinson are buried on the native burial grounds in Shingle Springs somewhere, although I am unsure if the area is accessible, let alone whether there is any sort of marker for them there at all.

In regard to the other Keyes’ children, we will never know what happened to Johnny. Marguerite was buried in the family plot in Plymouth in 1918 and William, the one child who seemed to dodge a bullet so-to-speak, was raised by his paternal grandparents in Plymouth per the 1920, 1930 census records. He eventually grew up and moved away, and it is his great granddaughter Adria who contacted me after reading my original blog about Albina.

I hope that one day, by getting enough exposure to Albina’s story, we can drum up enough interest within the community to erect a marker for both Albina and baby Marie at the Jackson Cemetery where they have been resting, undetected and unknown for far too long. They both deserve to be remembered and no longer be part of the forgotten. --

According to Steve Jones, this is the spot where Albina and Marie are said to be buried
in an unmarked grave. Hopefully in the future I will be able to definitely state exactly where in
this general area they both are buried, and perhaps maybe (with the cemetery board's help) we can
obtain permission to get some sort of memorial plaque for them both.

A Big Thank You To:  Steve Jones (Find-a-Grave Contributor & Researcher) as well as 

Adria Bowman, Great Great Granddaughter of Albina Bergala Keyes. 

Copyright 2022 - J'aime Rubio, www.jaimerubiowriter.com

Sources:

Amador Dispatch, 9/30/1918

Amador Ledger, 9/30/1918

n  Amador Dispatch, 9/5/1918

n  Amador Dispatch, 5/29/1919

n  Stockton Independent 9/1/1918

n  Amador Dispatch, 11/20/1919

n  Sacramento Daily Union,  6/3/1919

n  Amador Ledger Dispatch, 11/13/1919

n  Amador Ledger Dispatch 11/21/1919

n  Stockton Evening Record, 11/10/1919

n  Amador Ledger Dispatch, 5/30/1919

n  Amador Ledger Dispatch, 10/25/1918

n  Amador Ledger Dispatch, 5/17/1918

n  San Francisco Call, 11/14/1898

n  Mountain Democrat 11/12/1898

n  Amador Ledger, 8/11/1911

n  Amador Dispatch, 8/29/1918

n  Amador Dispatch, 10/11/1907

n  Amador Ledger, 1/17/1908

n  Mountain Democrat 1/23/1892

n  El Dorado Republican 11/15/1918

n  1910,1920,1930,1940 Census Records

n  Prison Records, Folsom & San Quentin

n  Find-a-grave, Ancestry & Family Search

n  Family tree records, from Adria Bowman

n  Story # 70 of  "Nisenan Texts & Dictionary," by Uldall & Shipley, published by University of California Press, dated 1/1/1966

 

 

 

 

Roseville killer’s vanishing in 1921 a troubling mystery

By: J'aime Rubio

The “Good Samaritan” parable is as familiar as ever, and it still comes to mind when people discuss the choice of getting involved in someone else’s ongoing domestic strife. On a September afternoon in 1921, a Roseville woman faced that very dilemma when she heard blood curdling screams coming from her neighbor’s home.

The woman, whom newspaper accounts referred to as Mrs. Kruse, knew there was a reoccurring issue at the nearby Catalano home. Kruse decided to call the Roseville city clerk and demand to know what she needed to do to stop a man from continually abusing his wife. Kruse made it clear the screams suggested Joseph Catalano may end up killing his spouse. The city clerk was reportedly not too worried, simply relaying a few technicalities to the caller. Frustrated with the runaround, Kruse phoned police directly a number of times.

  A law enforcement officer eventually paid the Catalano home a visit – setting off a chain of events that lead to discovering a bloody, gruesome mess. Investigators would come to realize that Louise Catalano had been viciously murdered by her husband during the interim that Kruse was trying to bring help to the property. 

Joseph Catalano was an Italian immigrant from New York. Journalism of the era indicates he had a long history of abusing his wife. The couple had four daughters: Mary, Josephine, Carrie and Rosa. In February of 1921, the family relocated to Roseville after Joseph was offered a new job at the Pacific Fruit Express Company. The Catalanos had not even been in Placer County for 8 months when the slaying took place.

Investigators soon learned that, before law enforcement arrived, Kruse had been watching out her own window and noticed 7-year-old Mary Catalano run outside with “a look of unspeakable horror on her face.”  Kruse also mentioned hearing the girls’ cries to her father, asking him not to hurt her mother.

After the killing, Joseph Catalano thoroughly cleaned the home and then refused to come to the door when the officer knocked. At first the lawman assumed no one was home and left. Again Kruse found herself calling to convince police to return to the scene. When an officer made a second visit, Catalano and his four children were long gone.

At that point, investigators began searching the property and found a suspicious trunk. Opening it unveiled a ghastly sight: Louise Catalano’s badly mutilated body was stuffed inside. According to the Sacramento Daily Union newspaper, Joseph Catalano had severely broken his wife’s body, slashing, hacking and choking her in “one of the most gruesome murders in criminal annals.”

Louise Catalano

Even Placer County Deputy Coroner West claimed that the crime was “most revolting in its cruelty.”  Placer County coroner deputies found an axe in the kitchen, which they believed was one of the weapons used in Louise’s murder. They also found love letters between the deceased woman and a man named Mateo Manreal, who had been a boarder in the Catalano household.

Manreal worked with Joseph Catalano at the Pacific Fruit Express Company. The revelation of a love triangle gone wrong elevated the murder into the pages of newspapers across California. Four of the letters were published in the Sacramento Daily Union, outlining an affair that had reached a point where Manreal was trying to take Louise away from her violent marriage. The letters also hinted at Louise’s own jealous, insecure and volatile personality, including the married woman threatening to kill Manreal if he should be unfaithful to her.

It appeared that the many years of emotional and physical abuse Louise received at the hands of her husband created her own dysfunctional mindset. Newspapers soon had another development to report when Roseville attorney A.H. Broyer came forward to say that on the morning of the murder Louise Catalano visited him to request help in filing for divorce. 

Meanwhile, the search for Joseph Catalano continued. After fleeing Roseville with his four daughters, Joseph abandoned the children at a storefront in downtown Sacramento. An eyewitness later told police of seeing the wanted man turn to walk away from the girls, only to rush back to kiss and hug them before trying to leave again.

The scene reportedly went on for several minutes before Catalano finally disappeared. A concerned family on the street took the girls in for the evening without knowing they were connected to the slaying in Roseville. When news broke, authorities arrived to interview the children. Mary, the oldest daughter, refused to speak and was likely traumatized.

The heinous nature of Joseph Catalano’s crime quickly made him one of the most wanted men in the state. Trains, hotels and ports were actively searched in hopes of finding him. Media accounts of the day indicate that many assumed Catalano had jumped on a ship to Italy or possibly headed back to friends and family in the Italian boroughs of New York. Records indicate he was never seen again.

After speaking to members of the Catalano family in 2017, it is believed that Joseph evaded capture with help from friends and family in the area, who kept him hidden until he could move elsewhere. Allegedly he hid out on a farm in Weed, California and remained in the United States, living as a wanted man for the rest of his life.

Although Mrs. Kruse’s attempts to save Louise Catalano on that violent day in 1921 were unsuccessful, her efforts did shed light on the crime for police, as well as force newspapers, local authorities and California officials to see how serious – and sometimes fatal – domestic disturbances can be.

(Originally published on December 19, 2015 in the Roseville Press-Tribune.)

Updated information: October 21, 2017.

Publisher/Editor's Notes: This is one of a series of articles that I wrote for the Roseville Press-Tribune several years back when I used to write the historical articles for them.  According to my old editor, since I wrote the content I can repost the articles. I also obtained permission by Gold Country Media a few years back to republish my stories, too. 

A more in-depth take on this case can also be found in the book, “Stories of the Forgotten: Infamous, Famous & Unremembered,” by J’aime Rubio.

Photo: Sac Daily Union, September 11, 1921