The Black Dahlia Avenger: The True Story

by Steve Hodel

  Brown and Parker: it was a toss-up which one would be appointed chief of police. They were two very different men, not unlike the U.S. Army generals Patton and Bradley. Like Patton, Parker was hard-drinking — known to his men as "Whiskey Bill" — arrogant, ambitious, and aggressive. He would certainly not have hesitated to slap around one of his officers if he felt it would do some good. A brilliant strategist, he won every campaign he ever began within the department. LAPD interim chief William Worton favored Parker, who had achieved the highest score on the written examination.

  Brown, also a hard drinker, was more the diplomat and, like Omar Bradley, was considered to be the "GI's general" by his foot soldiers. Officers from the rank of lieutenant on down loved him. While Brown did not possess the academic strengths of Parker, he had superior people skills. During his long and distinguished career, he had built a broad base of informants, and could learn virtually anything about anybody with a simple phone call. He was loyal to his men, and would back them and their plays unquestioningly. At that time, many considered Brown to be the best detective in the United States. Throughout his entire career he had been at the center of many prominent and celebrity investigations, and he had a reputation as not only an effective but an honest cop. Most of the local press gave him high marks, and Norman Chandler, owner of the Los Angeles Times, wanted Brown as "his chief," referring to him as "the master detective."

  Before he joined the LAPD, Parker, like my father, had worked the trenches of 1925 Los Angeles as a downtown-area cab driver, trolling for fares outside the Biltmore Hotel. It was almost certain that they had known each other, working the same job, at the same place, at the same time, since the Yellow Cab Company during those years had only ten cabs and a force of thirty men. They might have even been partners from time to time, working the same cab on different shifts and carrying the same fares from nightspot to nightspot.

  Reflecting on his early days as a hackie in an L.A. Herald Examiner article entitled "Early L.A. Cab Boom: Big Brawls Bump Business in Taxi Heyday," Chief Parker was quoted as saying this about his first job: "Driving back then made a man tough enough for anything. As chief, whenever I could, I gave a cabbie every legal break."

  Despite Parkers eminent qualifications, in June 1950 word spread that Thad Brown would be the next chief of police. The police commissioners would vote in early July, and he had the swing in his pocket, which would be just enough to tip the scale in his favor. So assured seemed the outcome of the decision that Chandler's L.A. Times printed a story that Thad Brown had actually been appointed chief of police, having received three votes from the police commissioners.

  At the last moment, however, fate intervened. The night before the final vote, Thad Brown's anticipated victory was snatched from him through the unexpected death of Police Commissioner Mrs. Curtis Albro, whose crucial swing vote would have guaranteed his appointment. The balance of power was tipped, and in August 1950 William H. Parker was appointed LAPD's new chief of police. Parker would rule the department as an absolute despot for the next sixteen years, and Brown would remain chief of detectives.

  Upon Chief Parker's death from a heart attack shortly after the Watts riots, Thad Brown would be appointed interim chief of police in July of 1966. At the same time, a young rookie Hollywood patrol officer named Steve Hodel would be ordered by his watch commander to attend the swearing-in ceremony at the police administration building, which would shortly thereafter be renamed Parker Center. After the ceremonv, Chief Thad Brown walked out of the auditorium and approached the young officer with the silver nameplate "Hodel" above his shirt pocket and asked the startled rookie if he would like to have his picture taken with the chief. A photographer at the chief's side walked us outside and snapped a photograph. Apparently, Chief Brown could not resist the temptation to memorialize the irony of the two of us standing together in uniform.

  The chief, the rookie patrol officer, and the photographer would quickly go their separate ways from there, never to see each other again. Some weeks later, I received a copy of the photograph through the interdepartment mails as a memento from an unknown sender, which, at the time, was meaningless to me. I threw the photo in my desk, moved it with me in boxes from desk to desk as I advanced up the ranks, and packed it with other memorabilia from the job when I retired. I never looked at it or even wondered about why it was taken in the first place, until I eventually recognized it as a thoughtprint in my own life some thirty-three years later.

  Chief Thad Brown retired on January 12, 1968, having served forty-two years on LAPD, his final twenty-one years as a deputy chief. He died only two years later at age sixty-two on the eve of Dr. George Hodel's sixty-first birthday. My father outlived his contemporaries Chief Parker and Chief Brown by some thirty-three and twenty-nine years respectively.

  Parker was the department's most respected leader, credited with taking a corrupt and sloppy police force and transforming it into what he said was the world's "number one police department." And my own timing was such that I was a Parker man from the get-go. Parker was a living legend for me and my classmates, who believed he possessed near-divine qualities of leadership, intelligence, integrity, and honesty. Parker had my unquestioning respect and devoted loyalty. There is no doubt he made the LAPD a more professional organization than it ever had been in the past. It's also clear he contributed much to reduce the graft and corruption that ran rampant in the decades before he took over.

  There was, however, a dark side to Bill Parker, clearly described by people who had private and personal contact with him. First, in Thicker 'n Thieves, Sergeant Charles Stoker reveals that in mid-May 1949 he had a secret meeting with then inspector Bill Parker. (Inspector was a police rank above captain but below deputy chief.) At the meeting, Parker flattered Stoker, reminding him how much they had in common as individuals: both were World War II vets; both Catholic. Parker questioned Stoker about the Brenda Allen scandal and seemed to listen as Stoker filled him in on the entire story. Parker in turn revealed to Stoker several cases of police corruption. Stoker described one case in particular, involving Chief Horrall:

  According to Parker, one source [of police corruption] was controlled by Chief of Police Clemence B. Horrall. Aligned with him as a lieutenant was Sergeant Guy Rudolph, his confidential aide. He then related this story concerning Rudolph, which I have never verified.

  For years, while Bowron was in office, Rudolph had controlled the vice pay-offs in Los Angeles, and when Horrall held the chief's job, Rudolph was under his wing. At one time Rudolph had kicked a colored prostitute to death on Central Avenue; and during the investigation of that incident, he and his partner had gone to a local downtown hotel where they engaged in a drunken brawl with two women. Then, while Rudolph was out of the room buying a bottle of whiskey, one of the prostitutes had been killed, (p. 182)

  Parker asked Stoker if he had heard the story about Rudolph and the prostitutes, and when Stoker said he hadn't Parker told him he could prove it. Parker further confided to Stoker that Sergeant Rudolph controlled the lottery and numbers rackets operated by Chinese and blacks.

  Stoker described in detail Parker's explanations about how corruption operated within the LAPD:

  [Parker] had described the two police cabals, which controlled graft under what he termed a "cop setup." By this he meant that no true underworld boss ran the rackets in Los Angeles and that racketeers were controlled and plucked by department members of the two police outfits who, in reality, were themselves racketeers as averred in the forepart of this book. (p. 187)

  As for the purpose of this clandestine meeting with the inspector, Stoker explained, Parker wanted to make him a "fair and square proposition." Unaware that Stoker had already testified in secret before the grand jury a week before their meeting, Parker asked him to go to the grand jury, tell all he knew about the Brenda Allen investigation, plus what Parker had just revealed about police corruption. That, he surmised, would force Mayor Bowron to rid the department of both Chief Ho
rrall and Reed and put Parker in a position to take command. Parker candidly informed Stoker that the department was out to get him "one way or another," and that if he, Stoker, played ball with Parker, he would make him his assistant and protect him from harm. As we know, Stoker passed on any "deals" offered by the ambitious inspector, took the road less traveled, and within weeks was drummed from the corps.

  In his autobiography, In My Own Words, Mickey Cohen also described the dynamics of his relationship with Bill Parker, this time from the perspective of someone on the other side of the law. First, he said, he believed he exercised some control over who would become chief in 1950. He had the swing vote for Brown because Brown, he believed, was in his pocket:

  The one copper who really gave me trouble out here was William Parker, who got into power when he was named chief of police in 1950. See, it was very important for me who was the chief of police at that time. I had gambling joints all over the city, and I needed the police just to make sure they ran efficiently. In L.A. the chief of police is chosen by the Board of Commissioners, so we had connections on the board who were going to make sure another connection of ours got named, [my emphasis] At a meeting, we all decided it was best if I left town until the selection was made, just to blow off any stink that could possibly come up.

  .. . But, when I get to Chicago, I learn that the guy on the board that we were depending on — the one that had like the nuts, the deciding vote — passes away twenty-four hours before the selection was made. Parker made chief of police, and if it had been my decision, I would have taken anyone but Parker, (pp. 146-147)

  In 1957, Cohen, after strong encouragement from TV news magazine commentator Mike Wallace, agreed to be interviewed on his television show, an early version of 60 Minutes. Cohen flew back east and met with Wallace and his writers for several days before the live telecast and went over the various questions, some of which they would ask him on the air. When Wallace asked Cohen — off the air — what he thought of Police Chief William Parker, Cohen said, "He's a sadistic degenerate cocksucker." The following day, Wallace, now live in front of millions of viewers, decided to ask Cohen the same question. Cohen, an accommodating wiseguy if nothing else, gave Wallace the exact same answer he'd given off camera the day before.

  Chief Parker, watching the live interview, immediately picked up the telephone and advised the network that he would be suing the network and Cohen for libel.

  Cohen met daily with a crew of ABC attorneys, and describes how, together, they prepared the defense, pointing out his jailhouse knowledge of the law where he states, "The only defense against libel is the truth, and believe me, I had Parker right by the fucking nuts." Cohen had obtained a number of LAPD sworn officers still on active duty who were ready to testify, in Cohen's words, "where William Parker was an absolute bagman for Mayor Frank Shaw's administration."

  The threatened libel suit was never heard, because in 1958 ABC settled with Chief Parker out of court for a purported $46,000.

  Exhibit 61

  Chiefs Thad Brown and William Parker, circa 1950

  Captain Jack Donahoe

  LAPD's Captain Jack Donahoe and the very real part he played in the Dahlia investigation has, for me, become one of the most enigmatic questions of my own investigation. We may never discover his true role. Was he hero or villain? There is no simple answer, and probably, like Chief Parker, he was both.

  It's clear from the outset that he controlled the Dahlia investigation, because it was his administrative responsibility as the captain of Homicide Division. In the early weeks, he fully cooperated with the press and provided them with ongoing updates about where the investigation was heading. In my estimation, and certainly by today's standards, he was overly candid and released far too many investigative details that should have been kept secret. The press's ability to stroke one's ego on page one each morning can be a not-so-subtle seduction, and Captain Jack may have simply enjoyed and succumbed to the notoriety. But Donahoe didn't last too long as the supervisor of the Dahlia investigation, because once he went public with his belief that the Elizabeth Short and Jeanne French murders were connected, Chief of Detectives Thad Brown promptly removed him.

  It is obvious to me that, at least initially, Donahoe didn't know who committed the murder of Elizabeth Short and was actively and energetically chasing every lead. Had he possessed knowledge of the suspect or been involved in the cover-up, he would not have pursued the investigation so aggressively or released vital information to the press and public in the hope of developing new leads. Donahoe was taken off both investigations by his superiors, presumably by Chief of Detectives Thad Brown, in mid-February 1947.

  His years inside the detective bureau and his promotions during the 1930s and '40s would have assured Donahoe of being in the loop within the department. While no one knows what he did or didn't do, whether he was on the take or not, we certainly can be confident that having survived the corrupt years of Mayor Frank Shaw and Chief James Davis and "the Purge," he knew who was dirty and who was not. He was Chief Thad Brown's right-hand man, and in this case the right hand had to know what the left hand was doing.

  If Donahoe was not actively involved in corruption, he certainly knew of its existence. His position as captain in charge of the Homicide Division would have placed him in direct supervision of Charles Stoker's "Bill Ball and Joe Small." It is difficult to believe that Donahoe could or would have turned a deaf ear to this large-scale operation without either taking his share of the profits or taking action to eliminate the corruption, which was an immediate threat to his power and authority as Homicide commander. If he did know of the Dahlia-French-Spangler cover-ups, it would make Captain Jack as dark and as sinister a police captain as his fictional counterpart, Captain Dudley Smith, in James Ellroy's novel L.A. Confidential.

  Donahoe retired fifteen years after the murder of Elizabeth Short and, like the fictional Captain Smith, died a hero to the department and the world. Here are extracts from what the Los Angeles Herald Examiner had to say about the man and his career in his obituary of June 20, 1966:1

  37-YEAR L.A. POLICE VETERAN

  CAPT. JACK DONAHOE DIES

  Capt. Jack Donahoe, 64, was mourned today by law enforcement officers everywhere.

  One of the most noted detectives in the country, Donahoe died yesterday at his Hollywood home after a lengthy illness . . .

  After 37 years on the Los Angeles Police Department, the detective better known as "Captain Jack" retired four years ago. He was honored by more than 700 men and women from every walk of life at an official banquet at the Police Academy .. .

  The 6-foot-1, more than 200 pound enemy of crime, had been suffering for the past three years from a back injury, and was found dead in his living room chair by his wife, Ann . ..

  On Donahoe's retirement, Chief of Detectives Thad Brown said: "I have lost my right hand."

  What I, then only a three-year rookie out of the Hollywood Division, and most of the rest of LAPD were never told was that Captain Jack, at 11:21 on the morning of June 18, 1966, while seated in his living room chair, had removed his service revolver, placed it over his heart, and pulled the trigger. His death report, a public record, reads not "after a lengthy illness" but "John Arthur Donahoe, Suicide, Cause of Death — Gunshot Wound of Chest Perforating Heart and Aorta with Massive Hemorrhage."

  It is almost certain that we will never know why this senior command officer, the highest-ranking detective assigned to the Black Dahlia murder investigation, took his own life. Was it illness? Depression? Or was it guilt? If he left a suicide note or explanation of any kind, it has long since been destroyed.

  Even though we may never discover the entire truth about what actually took place inside the LAPD during the years from 1947 to 1950, it's possible to speculate with confidence about what probably happened as the two candidates for chief, Brown and Parker, vied for power. I firmly believe that both men, possibly thinking they were acting in the department's best interests, ac
tively covered up not only the abortion ring investigation, but the Dahlia, French, Spangler, and other sexual homicides as well. Even the grand jury investigation of 1949 could not pry the full story loose.

  It's important to figure out who knew about the cover-up and what exactly they knew. From what Joe Barrett told me, at the time my father was arrested in 1949 the district attorney's office strongly suspected he was involved in the Dahlia case. If the DA thought so, it's clear the police must have suspected him as well but buried what they knew to protect themselves.

  Who knew? Most certainly Chiefs William Worton, William Parker, and Thad Brown knew the evidence against George Hodel and Fred Sexton. The primary investigators, Finis Brown, brother of Thad Brown, and his partner, Harry Hansen, had to know as well. Gangster Squad detectives "Bill Ball and Joe Small" were certainly in the loop, because I believe they initiated the cover-up to protect the members of the abortion ring. District Attorney Simpson, his chief of Bureau of Investigation, H. Leo Stanley, and his chief investigator, Lieutenant Frank Jemison, along with his partners who testified before the grand jury and provided them with the name of the prime suspect, all knew. And, as we will see, all eighteen of the grand jury members also heard my father named as the suspect. Therefore, in the closing months of 1949, at least twenty-eight people were informed and given the name of the prime suspect in the murders of both Elizabeth Short and Jeanne French.