1916 ‘La Mano Nera’ murder mystery shook Roseville

Not known for the kind of frequent scandals and murders that made San Francisco, Chicago and New York infamous, Roseville’s small railroad town appeared for much of the century to be far away from “the riffraff” that inhabited the larger cities. Or was it?  In the fall of 1916, Roseville became infiltrated by fear, terror and shock when the news broke of a double-murder involving a young mother and her child.

According archival reports from the Roseville Register, the story began Sept. 26 of that year, when Italian immigrant Musco Paolini claimed he'd left his home north of Roseville Union High School and headed down to the local butcher shop. Paolini made a meat order to be delivered to his doorstep, but when the butcher’s delivery boy showed up no one was home. Paolini himself later arrived home to find the dwelling empty. He originally assumed his wife, Clotide, and his two-year-old son Marino, had gone on a walk. After hours passed Paolini began to worry.

Getting in touch with his brother, Paolini also notified Roseville Constable Lou Hoke to aid in the search for his family. Newspapers recount that they canvassed the surrounding areas well into the night. Around 10 p.m., Hoke announced he was finished searching for the evening, though the Paolini brothers continued on. 

Around 2 a.m., the lifeless bodies of Clotide and Marino were found at a creek bottom in the ravine. Placer County Sheriff George McAuley was called to the scene to investigate. McAuley quickly noted that both of the victims had been shot in the head. It appeared there were no signs of a struggle, and that the two had been brought to the creek and dumped. Their faces also had powder burns, which McAuley knew meant their killer shot them at close range.

When the story made newspaper headlines, it immediately instilled panic in the surrounding neighborhoods. It is clear from existing records that the people of Roseville wanted to know who could have done this heinous act, and more importantly, why?

When the sheriff began questioning Paolini, he insisted he had no idea who would want to hurt his family. Neighbors reported that they saw no one visit the home, nor did they glimpse anyone leave it. It was as if Clotide and Marino had simply vanished prior to their killings. However, the backyard offered a slight clue in the form of a pile of dirt, indicating Clotide may have been interrupted while sweeping around the time she disappeared.  

McAuley, his deputies and Placer County District Attorney John Landis continued to be confronted by questions that were increasingly hard to answer. At one point the sheriff mentioned to reporters that he believed the murder could be connected to La Mano Nera or “The Black Hand.” There were many Italian immigrants in Roseville at the time, and it wasn’t too far from San Francisco, a place widely known for mafia-related connections. 

McAuley never elaborated on why he suspected the Black Hand, though his mention of the group was enough to make rumors swirl in Roseville: Could someone have been extorting Paolini? Did the Italian have unknown ties to the mafia? Did the immigrant know more about his wife and son’s deaths than he led on to?

After further research into this ninety-nine year old cold case, I have found that there was a prime suspect in the murders and his name was Anthony Avina (aka Antonio Avania). According to archived accounts in the Sac Daily Union, Avina’s statements to authorities were conflicting. He was also caught in a lie when questioned about his whereabouts at the time of the murder. After interrogating him, Sheriff McCauley and District Attorney Landis were convinced that he had committed the murders but didn't have enough evidence to convict. It appears that no more was done and that Avina was not charged or convicted for the murders. 

Roseville city records show that Clotide and Marino were buried together at the Roseville Cemetery, which was very close to their home. Now the only reminder of their existence — and the cold, calculated act that ended them — is the small block of stone with their names and dates etched into it. It sits quietly in the cemetery, unable to tell us what really happened on that day in 1916.  

(Originally published on December 4, 2014 in the Roseville Press Tribune, updated information added on April 26, 2017)  COPYRIGHT ---

Photo: J’aime Rubio

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 Murder Unremembered

A Murder Unremembered

By: J’aime Rubio

Situated under a large oak tree in the Rocklin cemetery sits the Chateau family plot. The little obelisk which marks the spot where many of the Chateaus are buried does not have any marker or engraving other than their last name, leaving no trace of the terrible scandal that rocked many of the communities in Placer County the Spring of 1910.

John M. Chateau, an employee of the Southern Pacific Railroad, met a tragic ending on May 19, 1910 after he was unable to recover from a gunshot wound inflicted nine days earlier. As it turned out, Chateau’s wife, Mary Ann, had reportedly been carrying on an improper relationship with one of her husband’s co-workers — a brakeman known as Michael Leahy — who became infatuated to the point of begging Mary Anne to run away with him and elope. Although there is no way to know how far Mary Ann allowed the affair to go, it seemed to go far enough to morph into a dangerous fatal attraction. After Mary Ann refused Leahy’s proposal, the jilted man threatened to kill her, giving her one more day to change her mind.

MaryAnn went to her husband to admit the affair and Leahy’s threats, prompting John Chateau to turn to the police. Records indicate a warrant was sworn out for Leahy’s arrest on charges of disturbing the peace. It was believed that Leahy left Roseville and that would be the end of it.

This was not to be.

In the early hours of May 10, Leahy sneaked onto the Chateau property and hid in the woodshed outside. When John Chateau strolled out in the morning to retrieve firewood, Leahy took aim and shot him. While John Chateau lay there bleeding, Leahy went over and picked up an axe, intending to finish the job. Yet several neighbors had heard the shot and quickly got involved — tackling Leahy to the ground and holding him until authorities arrived.

Leahy remained jailed in Roseville for several days until the news came that John Chateau passed away from his injuries. The San Francisco Call newspaper mentioned that anger towards Leahy in the Roseville community was so intense that a lynching was feared. Sheriff McAuley moved Leahy to Placer County’s seat in Auburn and announced that he would “use every possible means to protect his prisoner.”

When the charge of murder was added to Leahy’s case, the suspect was quoted as saying, “I blame the woman for this trouble. I asked her to elope with me and when she refused I found it necessary to kill her husband. I would have killed any other man just the same.”

Such words didn’t help his case.  Leahy tried to claim self-defense, saying that John Chateau shot first at him when he saw Leahy stooping down in the back of the woodshed. Witnesses to the event claimed the only shot that was fired was the fatal one that ended Chateau’s life.

The expeditious murder trial was held in Auburn, lasting only about six hours. It took less than 30 minutes of deliberations before the jury came back with a verdict. On November 23, 1910, Michael Leahy was convicted for the murder of Chateau. In court, before he was sentenced to die at Folsom prison, Leahy declared, “If I am hung, I’ll come back after I am dead and get even with some of these people who have been prosecuting me.”

In the book, “Folsom’s 93,” author and historian April Moore sheds light on Leahy’s story and his last days leading up to his execution. Moore’s book delves deep into Leahy’s saga.  Moore writes in “Folsom’s 93” that during the time Leahy was awaiting trial, he refused to sleep or eat, paced in his cell and cried himself into exhaustion, leading others to believe that he was insane. However, by the time the moment came for his execution on Feb. 8, 1911, Leahy’s attitude had changed significantly. It appeared he had accepted his fate.

“He spent his last evening telling stories to the evening watchmen about his time as a brakeman for the railroad,” explained Moore. “The papers even mentioned that he woke in good spirits and even joked with the Warden for a while.”

The San Francisco Call said that when it came time to take his long walk to the gallows Leahy met it with a “cool indifference that had marked his actions since his arrest.” He did not wish to speak to the reporters, nor did he have anything last words to say or requests to make to the staff at Folsom Prison.

At exactly 10:30 p.m., the trap was sprung and nine minutes later Leahy was dead. According to records, it was the quickest execution on the gallows at Folsom during Warden John Reilly’s term. After Leahy’s body was released to his family, it was brought to the cemetery in Rocklin and interred in the Leahy family plot.

In an ironic twist of fate, just as Leahy had vowed to haunt those who prosecuted him when he was alive, it turned out that Leahy’s final resting place is within eyes view of his victim John Chateau’s grave.  In the end, Leahy didn’t get the last laugh, in life or the afterlife. Instead he’s been doomed to spend eternity buried next to the man he murdered — an eternal reminder of why he lost his own life.

Previously published in the Roseville Press-Tribune in 2014, written by: J'aime Rubio


(Copyright 2014- www.jaimerubiowriter.com)

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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. 

Roy Gardner -The Last of the Western Train Robbers

Roy Gardner -The Last of the Western Train Robbers

Not since the infamous ‘gentleman bandit’ Black Bart, had the west coast seen anyone quite like Roy Gardner. Although most people may not recognize his name today, in the early 1920’s, Roy Gardner was a household name, and one of the most sought after fugitives of his time. Known for robbing mail trucks and mail trains all over the southwest and his crafty escapes from the law on every turn, Roy Gardner’s nefarious adventures made headlines across the country and entertained millions along the way.

In 1910, after serving time in San Quentin for a jewelry store robbery, he was released early on account of saving the life of one of the corrections officers during a riot. After his release, he became a welder, working in a shipyard in South San Francisco. Not long after he moved his family down to Southern California to look for work, Gardner lost all his money gambling in Tijuana, Mexico. It was then that he had the idea to make a quick buck. After an ill-conceived robbery of a San Diego mail truck for $78,000, Gardner was soon after arrested. Convicted and sentenced to twenty-five years, he was put on a northbound train headed for Washington to serve his sentence at McNeil Island Corrections Center.


Swearing that he would never serve a day of that sentence, Gardner managed to steal one of the
Marshall’s guns right from under his nose. After forcing them to remove his chains, Gardner handcuffed the Marshalls together and robbed them. He then jumped the train and ran off into the night headed for Canada. After being on the lam for almost a year Gardner made his way back to California. “Roy Gardner’s story has all the ingredients of a Hollywood movie,” states Roseville Historical Society’s Vice-President, Ken Fisher. “It’s just a disappointment that his story has faded with time.” As someone who has been truly dedicated to documenting this unique story in Roseville’s history, Ken was kind enough to offer the details of Roy’s infamous stay here in 1921.


Although Roy’s criminal history did not start and end here in Roseville, it did set the stage for his biggest heist, on May 21, 1921. For days, Roy scoped out the train that headed up to New Castle, even riding the top of the rail cars to get an idea of the twists and turns on the track. He noticed that in the sharper turns that the hard rubber connections between cars would pull apart on a curve, which would allow him to slip in and make his way to the mail cart. After casing the train, he hopped off and made his way back to Roseville.

Porter House Hotel, Roseville, California

That next night, at 10:15 p.m. Roy snuck onto the Pacific Limited (No.20) train headed for New Castle. By the time the train had reached Rocklin, Roy had managed to sneak into the mail cart, startling Ralph Decker, the mail clerk. Although Roy pointed a 45 caliber pistol at Decker, he never harmed him. After stealing mail from about 50 different bags, he threw his bag off the train first, and then he pulled the emergency brake cord and jumped off the train as well. Unfortunately, he searched the tracks for most of the night, never finding the bag with the loot he had just stolen.

Eventually the authorities retrieved the stolen mail along with all the monies in it. By the next morning, Roy had made it back to Roseville, stopping at the Peerless Café to eat breakfast. It there that Roy believed that a waitress may have recognized him from a wanted poster. After eating, He went back to his room at the Porterhouse Hotel, which was located on the corner of Atlantic and Lincoln streets. It wasn’t until two days later, at a poker game inside the cigar store adjacent to the Porterhouse Hotel, that the authorities surrounded him and took him to Sacramento to face the Judge. After being sentenced to an additional 25 years for escaping and committing another robbery, Gardner was sent on his way, once again to McNeil Island.

His story doesn’t end there folks, as he made many more infamous escapes from the law before he was finally caught. After being incarcerated at various prisons, including Leavenworth, Atlanta and Alcatraz, he was later released at the age of 54. Having been institutionalized for so many years, the transition back to a normal life seemed to be too hard for him.


On January 10, 1940, the “last of the western train robbers”, as he was dubbed, took his own life in his San Francisco hotel room by way of cyanide gas. A man who lived his life on the edge and suffered the consequences of a lifetime of his own choices, made the last choice he had left, escaping the world one last time.

With a story that reads like a dime novel that could have easily come out of the days of the old west, his is one that is unforgettable. As Ken Fisher put it, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid certainly have nothing on Mr. Gardner. A man who thought it would be a marvelous idea to come to the little railroad town of Roseville in 1921, and rob a train.”

-- Previously published in the Roseville Press-Tribune in 2014, written by: J'aime Rubio

(Copyright 2014- www.jaimerubiowriter.com)

Thank you to Ken Fisher for all your help on this article!

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.