The lost children of Placer’s White House

Placer County's "White House"  - located in Auburn

By: J'aime Rubio

Located directly across the street from Auburn’s grand historic courthouse, the towering Victorian known as the White House continues to stir mysteries. The house has had many lives over the years, including being used as a residence, a law office and several restaurants. The plaque outside the White House states it was built in 1870, though county records suggest it may have actually been built a decade before that.

Its first owner, Walter B. Lyon was a Placer County Recorder as well as the Editor and Business Manager of the Placer Weekly Argus newspaper. He was also the Grand Secretary for the California Lodge of Odd Fellows. He was a true pioneer of the county. In 1875 Lyon’s stately abode had passed into the hands of John White, earning its lasting moniker. But surviving archives show the house had already experienced a string of tragedies before White came to own it.

Walter B. Lyon and his wife Mary had seven children, though only two survived into adulthood. Placer County death records indicate that between February and March of 1866, the Lyon’s 7-year-old son William, 3-year-old son Charlie and 1-year-old infant George, all passed away. The family devastation continued when on May 2, 1874 – just one year prior to John White taking over the family home – Lyon’s 7-year-old daughter Mary Helena also died after a lingering illness.

Archives of the Placer Weekly Argus noted, “Nearly every girl and boy and lady and gentleman in the town of Auburn and vicinity attended the funeral service and burial of the daughter of W.B. Lyon. The Band of Hope, composed of the little juveniles of our town, marched in twos to the graveyard.”

The newspaper added that many of the young girl’s classmates “wept unremittingly” during her funeral and that “at the grave the soft and gentle voices of the children echoed through the still woods as they sang ‘Beautiful River.’”

Other interesting history about the history of the home reported to the Auburn Journal by former restaurant owner, Pete Enoch, spoke of a mystery tunnel that connected under the Courthouse to the basement of the White House.  Said to have been used as a holding cell for inmates due for court appearances, the secret passageway was a means of transporting prisoners away from the public view.  If those stories are true, the area facing Maple Street bears only remnants of the old archway that has long since been sealed off, leaving only an old brick retaining wall visible from the exterior of the home.

Maria Helena Lyon's Grave

After visiting the White House, a trip to the Old Auburn Cemetery was next on my list. Having never been there, and solely relying on my GPS, I found myself wandering around the final resting place of many of the old pioneers of Auburn. As I walked the spacious grounds, I came upon a name I recognized, Walter B. Lyon, and sure enough, right there in the family plot I found little Mary Helena’s small obelisk. The tiny, stone monument that sits peacefully with her siblings and parent’s graves, remains a physical remembrance of young, forgotten lives lost in Placer County long ago, contributing to the questions we feel today about the region’s haunting history. 

The Lyon Family Plot, Auburn Cemetery

(Originally published as one of three stories on October 29, 2015 in the Placer Herald)

Updated/edited October 21, 2017

Photo of White House/Lyon House: Roland Boulware

Photo of graves: J’aime Rubio

Publisher/Editor's Notes: This is one of a series of articles that I wrote for the Roseville Press-Tribune/Placer Herald 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 have also obtained permission by Gold Country Media a few years back to republish my stories, too. 

Historic Rocklin death a puzzle for early pathologists

Photo Credit: William Tatum 

There was a chill in the air on a cold December day in 1891 when a coworker of Albert Bertelsen came calling at his home two miles east of Rocklin. Bertelsen’s friend knocked and, after no response, entered inside to stumble upon a corpse sprawled across the floor.

Bertelsen had lived on a ranch near the Lee Drift Mine. According to the Sacramento Daily Union newspaper, clues around his homestead suggested that he might have been attacked outside. His wounds appeared to have been caused by buck shot from a gun hitting his face, chest and the side of his body. The marks on the ground also led the authorities to wonder if he had then been dragged into his home.

The citizens of Rocklin wanted to know who could have done this? And why? Newspapers all around Placer and Sacramento counties ran with the story, detailing the condition of Bertelsen’s body and creating a community mystery around the question of foul play.

A native of Denmark, Bertelsen was born in 1850. He immigrated to the United States in the late 1860s. A decade later, he was living in Lincoln and working on a farm. State records show that on Feb. 21, 1872 he filed an official “Declaration of Intention” to become a U.S. citizen. Bertelsen soon married Jane Gray of Coloma. The two remained together for nearly 14 years until tragedy struck and Jane passed away. 

Photo Credit: Little Orange in the Big Apple

The cause of her death is not recorded, though documents confirm she was brought to the Siebenthaler Home for funeral services at 20^th Street in Sacramento, and was later taken to the Masonic Cemetery for burial. Bertelsen worked managing the Lee Mine at the time. Just weeks before his own death, Bertelsen quit his longstanding position and went to work at the local quarry. It was his failure to show up to this particular job that prompted his friend to come over and make the grisly discovery.

Questions continued to swirl around the topic of whether Bertelsen was murdered. After investigating, the coroner shocked many in the community by ruling the death “accidental.”  Archives from the Placer County Herald newspaper shed light on what apparently took place that cold December day. It seems that around the one-year anniversary of Jane’s death, Bertelsen decided to start removing the tree stumps from his property by blowing them up.

The coroner ascertained that he was using blasting powder while working in the field, and somehow ignited an explosion prematurely. Bertelsen was hit by the force of the blast. Not dying immediately, he dragged himself back to his house. Closer examination of his body proved that it was gravel and dirt debris that was embedded deep in his skin rather than buck shot. The fact that it took several days before his body was found, and its state of decomposition, suggests Bertelsen might have been killed on the one-year anniversary of his beloved wife’s death. His longtime friend Phillip Siebenthaler traveled to Rocklin to recover his body and bring it back to Sacramento to be buried next to Jane at the Masonic Cemetery. Unfortunately, Bertelsen doesn’t have a marker or headstone, but grave maps show he is next to his wife in Section H, Block 60.

In the end, what was originally believed to be a murder turned out to be a terrible accident; but if Bertelsen did actually die on the anniversary of his wife’s passing, some may wonder if it was entirely a coincidence. Could the ranch manager have been so caught up in his emotions that day he made a careless mistake? The only thing that is known for sure is that he and his wife were reunited once and for all at their final resting place.

Photo Credit: Lin McNamara

(Originally published on August 7, 2015 in the Placer Herald)

Publisher/Editor's Notes: This is one of a series of articles that I wrote for the Roseville Press-Tribune/Placer Herald 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 have also obtained permission by Gold Country Media a few years back to republish my stories, too. 

Photo credits to: Lin McNamara (Findagrave), Little Orange in the Big Apple (Findagrave) and William Tatum (Findagrave). 

Extra Sources:

Sac Daily Union—December 9, 1891

Sac Daily Union- December 8, 1891

Brutal Rocklin murders of 1877 a forgotten saga

By: J'aime Rubio

Over the years, several news articles and books have been written about the painful history of the Chinese expulsion from Placer County in 1877. Yet often times the precursor to that event, a brutal triple-murder, gets only a brief mention; and much of its real story is often cut short or left out entirely.

It was a tale with its share of victims and villains – and it also came with a few heroes as well. The triple-murder took place September 15, 1877 at the Old Ryan Ranch on the outskirts of Rocklin. The Sacramento Daily Union newspaper reported that a 40-year-old man named H.N. Sargent, who was well known and respected in the community, was living on the property once owned by a Mr. P.D. Ryan. Sargent was a member of the firm Himes & Company, which had purchased the ranch near Secret Ravine. He’d been living and working there for about two years before the September 15 tragedy.

In the week leading up to the shocking event Sargent sold a small mining claim in the area to a Chinese man named Ah Sam for $120. Ah Sam was a former cook who had worked for several families in Auburn. He and three or four of his friends reportedly decide to trick Sargent into taking them out to another mining claim they pretended to have an interest in buying. After leading Sargent down the road a short distance Ah Sam and his cohorts shot him in the back four times and then, for added measure, put another bullet in his the head.  It was suspected that the motive was pure greed. Thinking they had finished Sargent off, the group proceeded to head back to their victim’s house. Arriving, they attacked his housekeeper, Mrs. Oder. Both Mrs. Oder and her husband, Xaver Louis Oder, worked on Sargent’s ranch and vineyard. The couple would be the second and third victim in a triple homicide that was about to shake Rocklin to its core.

Xaver Oder was a 55-year-old native of Bavaria. Before coming to Rocklin he had been living with his family for many years in Drytown in nearby Amador County. Mrs. Oder was a native of New Jersey. She was only 28-years-old at the time of her murder.

Once inside Sargent’s house Ah Sam and his fellow assailants shot Mrs. Oder several times before driving an axe into her skull. The men also chased after Mr. Oder, killing him outside on the property. Sargent’s abode was ransacked. Newspapers later detailed how the killers had torn into his drawers and broke open his trunks with the same bloody axe used to kill Mrs. Oder. They found the money Ah Sam had originally paid Mr. Sargent for the claim and then looted his home for all valuables.

A young boy later stumbled on the carnage when he dropped by to ask for permission to pick some grapes on the grounds of the ranch. He was soon staring at the mangled body of Mrs. Oder. News spread quickly through Rocklin. Authorities instantly launched a large scale hunt, both searching for the perpetrators as well as answers to what had happened to Sargent.

 Unbelievably, when Sargent was discovered in the woods it turned out he wasn’t actually dead. The search party brought him back to Rocklin to undergo surgery. Sargent would ultimately die from his wounds, but not before he recovered enough life to tell the authorities who had attacked him.

With an idea of who committed the heinous crimes, volunteers from Rocklin and Roseville flooded in to help search for Ah Sam and his partners. At one point, about 15 Chinese residents were held in custody at the Rocklin Exchange Hall, though only four were eventually arrested and sent by train to the Auburn jail to face charges.

The historic record shows this tragedy sparked a fire in the hearts of Rocklin residents, prompting them to demand the Chinese be driven out of town. Chinese residents learned the very morning after the arrests that they had to leave the area before sundown – or be driven out by force. The location known as Chinese Camp was abandoned and then demolished. The hunt for Ah Sam continued.

Newspaper clippings from the time recount that a railroad detective named John Craig Boggs enlisted the help of his own Chinese cook in finding the murderers. The cook led Boggs to Folsom where one of the suspects, Ah Fook, was hiding out in an opium den. Boggs’ cook went undercover, befriending Ah Fook and waiting until he was deeply under the influence of “the Dragon.” Boggs’ cook eventually gave a signal that allowed the detective to come in for an arrest.   

Ah Sam continued to elude authorities. Boggs kept hot on the trail, following him to Gold Strike Mine near Greenville and then into the mountains. It wasn’t until five months after the murders that a man named Ira Wentworth came across a badly emaciated and nearly frozen Ah Sam in the high north Mother Lode. According to the book “The Illustrated History of Plumas, Lassen and Sierra County,” Wentworth was on his way to work when he stumbled on Ah Sam at a campsite. He offered the stranger some food and told him how to get to the Chinese Camp for help, having no idea that he was speaking to a wanted criminal. The next morning at Rich Bar, Wentworth told his friends about the incident and only then learned the starving man was likely the fugitive from Rocklin. Immediately, two young men, Thomas Stentz, 29, and Alexander Buvinghausen, 24, headed up the mountain to assist in Ah Sam’s capture.

What ensued was a dramatic standoff on a cliff side that saw the armed fugitive promising Stentz and Buvinghausen that he would never be taken alive. With the two young men closing in, despite warning shots, Ah Sam pointed the gun at his own abdomen and fired on himself. He succumbed to his wounds two days later. 

Prior to his death, Ah Sam refused to speak about his involvement in the murders. His body was brought back through the snow to Spanish Ranch and then onto Quincy, where it was loaded onto a stage for Reno before returning to Rocklin by train. Ah Sam’s remains were offered to Chinese residents near Placer, who wanted nothing to do with him, disgusted by his acts. 

The harsh and sudden choice to drive out Rocklin’s Chinese population and the irrational act of displacing a hardworking community for the heinous crimes of a few men served over time to obscure the complete story of the three original victims: Today, H.N. Sargent, Xavier Oder and Mrs. Oder, who have been largely forgotten. Although their end was violent and ghastly, the lives of these three residents are a part of Rocklin’s history waiting to be remembered again.

(Originally published on September 10, 2015 in the Placer Herald)

Photo: Archival Photos

Publisher/Editor's Notes: This is one of a series of articles that I wrote for the Roseville Press-Tribune/Placer Herald 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 have also obtained permission by Gold Country Media a few years back to republish my stories, too. 

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

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.