by James Roman
Ned Doheny, Jr., Mrs. Estelle Doheny, and Edward L. Doheny, Sr., leaving the Federal Court in Los Angeles, after being tried in an oil scandal, 1924.
Doheny had lofty plans for young Ned following his graduation from the University of Southern California. World War I had just ended; big oil companies now dominated American politics. When President Harding took office in 1921, he filled his Cabinet with officers from Gulf Oil, Standard Oil and Sinclair Oil, and he appointed Doheny’s longtime friend (and by now, former senator) Albert B. Fall as the new Secretary of the Interior. Though Democrats derisively dubbed them “the Oil Cabinet,” Doheny saw no conflict; he was thrilled when Secretary Fall arranged a meeting with President Harding. This cozy relationship between government and oil tycoons would lead to Doheny’s downfall, though he failed to heed the warnings. Instead, he viewed this easy access as an opportunity for Ned to advance the Doheny name to political prominence.
That opportunity arrived promptly. Although conservationists denounced the Harding administration for its backroom deals with oilmen who reaped private profits from public land, that didn’t stop Secretary Fall or President Harding. They offered Doheny access to two oil-rich federal reserves: in Kern County, California, and Teapot Dome, Wyoming, named for the shape of its unique rock formation. Doheny readily accepted. He didn’t own the land, but he would pay the U.S. government 35 percent of the value of the crude oil his company extracted. The balance covered overhead and provided Doheny a hefty profit.
Then, Secretary Fall asked Doheny for “a personal loan” of $100,000. It seems he had lost a fortune on copper mines; his property taxes in New Mexico were 10 years in arrears. Doheny complied. In fact, he saw this as Ned’s chance to become acquainted with American politics. He directed Ned to withdraw $100,000 in cash from a New York bank, then deliver it personally to Secretary Fall in Washington, D.C. ($100,000 cash in 1921 would be nearly $1.3 million today.)
Ned Doheny employed Hugh Plunkett as his personal secretary and confidante for the past seven years, a salaried friend who oversaw many tasks and remained knowledgeable about private matters. Hugh accompanied Ned by train from LA to New York to deliver the loan to Secretary Fall. They withdrew the cash and hand-carried it on another train to Washington, D.C. Secretary Fall received the cash from the two young men in exchange for a Promissory Note.
Edward Doheny knew that there was a social caste system among the wealthiest Americans: Catholics and Jews were not welcomed within the rarified strata. To demonstrate that he was no one’s inferior, Doheny spent liberally. One by one, he acquired the 13 remaining mansions on Chester Place until he owned the entire gated compound. For his philanthropy within the Catholic Church, bishops and church officials held Doheny in the highest esteem. Now Doheny focused his attention on a new kind of investment: conferring prestige on his scion. When Ned married Lucy Smith, Doheny acquired 400 acres in Beverly Hills. The exclusive new subdivision had already earned its reputation among LA’s wealthiest residents; famous movie stars like Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks led glamorous lives there. Doheny reserved 12.5 acres on a hilltop for Ned and Lucy, where he planned to build Beverly Hills’ most splendid mansion, establishing the next generation of Dohenys in Los Angeles society.
A postcard of the Fairbankses at home paddling in their swimming pool.
The three-foot-thick limestone facade earned the Greystone Mansion its name. Resembling a baronial castle, the main residence would sprawl more than 46,000 square feet, plus stables that occupied nearly 16,000 square feet, a two-bedroom gatehouse, an enormous garage with its own gas pumps and machine shop; even its own fire station. The mansion was filled with outlandish amenities like a walk-in vault for furs and jewels; a room for cutting flowers; a room for wrapping presents; a room for Ned’s guns; a movie theater; a bowling alley; and (since this was during Prohibition) a retractable bar that disappeared with the push of a button. Outdoor features included a 60-foot swimming pool, terraces, tennis courts, kennels, riding trails and formal gardens. Maintaining a residence of this scale required not just cooks, maids and gatekeepers, but also 10 gardeners, four chauffeurs and two telephone operators to run the internal switchboards. Ned’s friend Hugh Plunkett oversaw many of these details during construction. When moving day finally arrived, Ned was a 35-year-old father with five children.
A 1924 cartoon depicts Washington officials racing down an oil-slicked road to the White House, trying to outpace the Teapot Dome scandal of President Warren G. Harding’s administration
Meanwhile, back in Washington, D.C., the Senate demanded a Congressional investigation into the use of federally-owned land for private profit. All fingers pointed to Secretary Fall, who admitted that he awarded the oil production rights to Doheny without soliciting a single competing bid. On March 4, 1923, Fall was forced to resign from office. Even more shocking, weeks later, President Harding suffered a stroke and died. The new Calvin Coolidge administration was far less cozy with America’s oilmen, especially with a Congressional investigation under way.
Edward L. Doheny (second from right) testifying before the Senate Committee investigating the Teapot Dome Scandal, 1924
Next, an unexpected blow: The Albuquerque Morning Journal reported that Albert Fall had suddenly paid off ten years’ worth of taxes and even purchased additional property. Again the former Secretary of the Interior faced the congressional committee, this time to explain the source of his sudden wealth. Doheny was summoned, too. He confirmed that he furnished an interest-free loan to Fall with “my own money, and it did not belong in whole or in part to any oil company with which I am connected.” When asked for evidence of the cash withdrawal, Doheny disclosed that Ned and Hugh withdrew the cash from an account in New York.
Doheny was indicted for bribery; Albert Fall became the first U.S. Cabinet member to be sent to prison. As a result, a new Act of Congress stated plainly that federal lands cannot be used for private profits. Doheny’s legal battles with Congress dragged on for years as the government now pursued him for conspiracy. He liquidated some assets to pay legal fees and wisely transferred much of his wealth to trust funds for his grandchildren. Still, this new investigation ratcheted up the tension in the Greystone Mansion because this time Congress demanded that Ned and Hugh testify, too.
Unaccustomed to such high-profile scrutiny, and in fear of a jail sentence for delivering the cash, Hugh Plunkett panicked. In the Greystone Mansion on Christmas Eve 1928, Plunkett collapsed. Doheny’s doctor diagnosed the incident as “a nervous breakdown.” Then Plunkett’s condition worsened. At 9:30 p.m. on February 16, 1929, after Ned dressed for bed, Plunkett arrived in a suit and tie. They convened in a guest room for a private discussion over drinks and cigarettes, but as Plunkett grew increasingly agitated, the discussion degenerated into an argument. Ned phoned the doctor who cared for Plunkett during his breakdown, then suddenly Lucy heard “a loud noise.” As Lucy and the doctor approached the guest room, Plunkett slammed the door. Next, they heard two gunshots. The doctor barged into the guest room and saw Plunkett lying dead on the floor with blood oozing from his skull. Ned was shot but still breathing, with blood seeping from both sides of his head. The bullet passed straight through his cranium and embedded in the wall. Lucy phoned her family for help while the doctor attempted to clear Ned’s breathing passages by turning him on his side. Lucy returned to see Ned die, too. She wailed uncontrollably as pandemonium ensued in the Greystone Mansion. Relatives descended; servants awoke. Doheny raced to the mansion, stared in silence at his dead son, then crumpled to the floor and wept.
Hours later, Lucy’s brother-in-law finally called for the police. A detective and the investigator for the District Attorney arrived at around 2:00 a.m. They took down statements from the doctor and others present, then closely scrutinized the crime scene. The gun was too hot for a discharge that occurred hours earlier, and it had been wiped clean of all fingerprints. Had someone heated the gun to mislead the investigation? Powder burns surrounded the bullet h
oles in Ned’s head, indicating that the gun was held at extremely close range, but no such powder appeared on Plunkett’s wounds. Further, the angle of Ned’s wounds implied a very awkward position if Plunkett had been Ned’s assassin, especially since Plunkett was holding a cigarette in one hand. It was apparent that the crime scene had been tampered and statements rehearsed. Under questioning, the doctor admitted that he moved Ned’s body. Detectives could not determine whether this was a murder and suicide perpetrated by Ned or by Plunkett.
Diagram retraces the events that led to the deaths, Los Angeles Times, February 18, 1929
From left: “Father Crumpled When Told of Tragedy” Los Angeles Examiner, 1929; Lucy Smith Doheny, 1918
Less than 36 hours later, the chief investigator announced that the case was closed. Plunkett had gone berserk and shot Ned, then taken his own life. The investigator reversed the facts regarding the powder residue, now claiming that it appeared on Plunkett’s cranium instead. Newspapers pandered to the case’s uncertainties. The Los Angeles Examiner, Randolph Hearst’s paper, screamed: “Bullet-Torn Bodies Found in Oil Man’s Home.” The Los Angeles Times published an interview with the doctor, who confided that Plunkett “was nervous, very nervous and irritable too. Mr. Doheny always treated him with the utmost consideration.” International speculation kept the story alive long after the coroners and detectives closed the case.
To bury Ned, Doheny purchased a rare Italian marble mausoleum from the second century, in which Ned’s unmarked sarcophagus was installed at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, CA. Weeks later, Doheny had the bodies of Ned’s birth mother and young sister exhumed from Evergreen and installed in the mausoleum so that all three might rest in peace together. On the day after Ned’s burial, Hugh Plunkett was interred about 30 feet from Ned’s mausoleum, with two of Lucy’s brothers serving as pallbearers in a display of unity between both families.
Thirteen months later, the federal investigation rested: Doheny was exonerated of all charges. The relief arrived too late; Doheny was already a broken man. Months earlier, the stock market crashed, triggering the Great Depression. When he died in 1935 at age 79, Doheny’s estate was worth a fraction of its previous glory. In their final years, Edward and Estelle Doheny found solace in their Catholic faith, bequeathing many of their remaining possessions to the Church, which the Church eventually liquidated. Today, the Chester Place compound is Mount Saint Mary’s College. Doheny’s copy of the Gutenberg Bible is now in the collection of Bill Gates.
Lucy remained in the Greystone Mansion for 26 more years. She remarried and lived to be 100 years old, dying in 1993. The acreage surrounding the Greystone Mansion is known today as the Trousdale Estates, some of the toniest real estate in Beverly Hills. A library on the campus of USC commemorates Ned Doheny, and Doheny State Beach is an eight-mile gift to California from Edward Doheny. Estelle devoted her final days to developing the Doheny Eye Institute, a foundation that thrives today.
The Greystone Mansion is now owned and maintained by the City of Beverly Hills, where its park-like grounds are open for free to all visitors year-round.
GREYSTONE MANSION IN THE MOVIES
The 18 acres of parkland surrounding Greystone Mansion are open to the public (no charge) … when it’s not in use as a film set! Since 1955, the Greystone Mansion has appeared in more than 50 feature films, plus countless music videos, television episodes and some incredible private events. Some popular films shot on location at the Greystone Mansion include:
Title Starring
The Disorderly Orderly (1964) Jerry Lewis
Dead Ringer (1964) Bette Davis, Karl Malden
The Loved One (1965) Robert Morse, Jonathan Winters
The Trouble With Angels (1966) Hayley Mills, Rosalind Russell
The Dirty Dozen (1967) Ernest Borgnine, Charles Bronson
Phantom of the Paradise (1974) Brian De Palma, Director
Eraserhead (1977) David Lynch, Director
Winter Kills (1979) Jeff Bridges, Elizabeth Taylor
Stripes (1981) Bill Murray
All of Me (1984) Lily Tomlin, Steve Martin
The Golden Child (1986) Eddie Murphy
Jumpin’ Jack Flash (1986) Whoopi Goldberg
The Witches of Eastwick (1987) Michelle Pfeiffer, Susan Sarandon
Ghostbusters II (1989) Dan Aykroyd, Bill Murray
Death Becomes Her (1992) Meryl Streep, Goldie Hawn
The Bodyguard (1992) Whitney Houston, Kevin Costner
Indecent Proposal (1993) Robert Redford, Demi Moore
Batman & Robin (1997) George Clooney, Arnold Schwarzenegger
Rush Hour (1998) Jackie Chan, Chris Tucker
The Big Lebowski (1998) Jeff Bridges, John Goodman
What Women Want (2000) Mel Gibson, Helen Hunt
X-Men (2000) Hugh Jackman, Patrick Stewart
Rock Star (2001) Mark Wahlberg, Jennifer Aniston
Spider-Man I, II & III (2002) Tobey Maguire
Garfield II (2006) Bill Murray
The Prestige (2006) Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale
There Will Be Blood (2007) Daniel Day-Lewis
The Social Network (2010) Jesse Eisenberg, Justin Timberlake
The Muppets (2011) Chris Cooper, Jason Segel
The entrance to the Greystone Mansion is located at: 905 Loma Vista Drive, Beverly Hills, CA 90210
Exterior areas are open to the public. Interiors are shown by appointment only. Enjoy a stroll through the Greystone’s elaborate gardens. See: www.greystonemansion.org
CHAPTER 13.
SUNSET STRIP UNINCORPORATED
MICKEY COHEN’S TERRITORY, A.K.A. WEST HOLLYWOOD
1925–Present
Thanks to Huntington’s Red Cars, new communities popped up all around Los Angeles County. Property owners in places like Venice and Hollywood were eager to see their neighborhoods incorporated into Los Angeles, where they could benefit from the city’s schools, police, paved roads and fire protection. A few neighborhoods, however, like Beverly Hills and Santa Monica, made the opposite choice. Though technically located within LA’s city limits, these communities preferred to be self-sufficient. They incorporated independently. To this day, Beverly Hills and Santa Monica are self-contained cities that do not elect LA’s mayor; they’ve got their own, thanks, as well as police, schools, libraries and (better) paved streets.
But there was a third, unexpected option: Do nothing. Don’t support the LA city government and don’t support an independent one, either. Remain unincorporated. That was the defiant decision made by residents in one of LA County’s primest locations, the roughly two square miles between Hollywood and Beverly Hills. Why? Less scrutiny. In the twentieth century, that notorious stretch of land, dubbed West Hollywood by the local realty board in 1925, provided a safe haven for two distinctly different groups of lawbreakers who preferred life under the radar.
From left: Mickey Cohen (second from the left) and cohorts await booking in the LA County Jail, 1948; Michael’s Exclusive Haberdashery, 8804 Sunset Boulevard
The laws of LA County, not the city, governed all activities in unincorporated territory, and that was just fine with professional crooks like Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel and his pal Mickey Cohen. They could fleece half the town in the time it took for a County Sheriff to respond to a police call. Meyer Lansky, Siegel’s boss back in New York, controlled “the wire,” a phenomenally profitable service that relayed the racing results, plus prizefights and sporting events, to off-track bookies. Lansky sent Siegel to oversee the West Coast operations, where he teamed up with Cohen, a scrappy featherweight boxer with a Star-of-David on his trunks, reputed to be LA’s most prominent bookie. It was Cohen who really ran their day-to-day bookmaking business in LA, especially when Siegel took over the Flamingo Hotel construction project in Las Vegas and then got shot for mismanaging it.
The stretch of Sunset Boulevard between Beverly Hills and Hollywood was the ideal place for everything illicit. Since those two communities already zo
ned Sunset Boulevard for commerce, the unincorporated Strip between them was a ready-made commercial playground where the cops had no jurisdiction. During Prohibition, nightclubs set up business there because they could get away with bootleg liquor sales. That’s when Cohen concealed his illegal bookmaking business beside the fashionable clubs. His first front was an expensive men’s store at 8804 Sunset Boulevard that he named Michael’s Exclusive Haberdashery; Cohen managed bookies in three counties from its basement. Business was so good that he needed more space, so he opened an adjacent store called Courtley’s Exclusive Jewelry; then he set up a custom-made shirt shop that was actually a front for wholesale narcotics distribution. In a fourth storefront, he installed a former NYPD detective to keep an eye on the rackets at all times, and an attorney with a successful record of representing underworld crime figures to keep the operation out of trouble. In the used car dealership nearby, Cohen housed an exact replica of a police car, along with a fleet of customized navy-blue Cadillacs with hidden compartments to stow guns and cash, used by Cohen’s nattily-dressed seven-man team to transact business.