by Philip Jett
He had come to Colorado during World War I when he was stationed at Fort Logan. The fifth of ten children, the judge and his wife, Minnie, had no children of their own. Locals said you could set your watch by his early morning routine. He always rose at 5:00 and arrived at the courthouse by 7:00. His trials started promptly at 9:00 and recessed at 4:30, with a one-hour lunch and a brief recess in the morning and another in the afternoon. He also held court till noon on Saturdays.
The jury was composed of eight men, ages twenty-six to fifty-nine, and four women, ages twenty-three to thirty-seven, with educations ranging from the fourth grade to a master’s degree. All lived nearby, at Golden, Arvada, Wheat Ridge, and Lakewood, but would be sequestered for the duration of the trial because of the unceasing news coverage.
“We have done everything we can to get a fair and impartial jury,” said Bill Erickson, who exhausted the defense’s preemptory challenges. “Unfortunately, all seventy-nine jurors quizzed in the long selection process indicated they have read something about the case.”
That wasn’t surprising. The newspaper, radio, and television coverage would have saturated anyone within a hundred miles with a guilty bias toward Corbett. It was only natural. The coverage had run for a year—from the disappearance, the FBI’s naming Corbett as one of its Ten Most Wanted, the discovery of Ad’s remains, Corbett’s capture, and now the trial, with plenty of damning filler throughout. Most of the coverage was accurate. On occasion, however, front-page articles and special news bulletins had unintentionally misled readers and listeners, such as Beulah Lewis’s claim to have seen Corbett attack Ad on the bridge or the conclusion that Corbett’s typewriter matched the one that typed the ransom note. The fact that these news bulletins turned out to be untrue was not explained until after the trial, when the damage had already been done, much as when a judge strikes a statement made in open court from the record and then instructs the jurors to disregard the stricken statement. It can’t be done.
Adding to the problems of the defense, one juror’s cousin was married to Sheriff Wermuth. Another had been a Hardesty supporter in his recent campaign for district attorney. Another knew Hardesty from church. Another knew the assistant district attorney through his work in the Boy Scouts. And another sold machinery and equipment to Bill and Joe Coors. All innocent associations, yet ties just the same.
After the sequestered jurors ate their first breakfast together at the Holland House Hotel on Saturday morning, March 18, they were transported by school bus to the courthouse for the start of the trial. Each would be earning six dollars a day, twice what they’d been paid during jury selection, plus free meals and lodging until the verdict was read. Some were a bit nervous while others felt a sense of importance as they stepped off the bus at the courthouse steps. Each was one of twelve (and one alternate) selected out of more than three hundred individuals screened for the jury and seventy-nine who’d undergone voir dire. Only they would be sitting for the Coors murder trial.
Four sheriff deputies stood guard at each of the doors to the courtroom. Not a typical procedure, but with an infamous defendant, Sheriff Wermuth insisted on the precaution.
The bailiff took a roll call of the jury, and then Ron Hardesty presented a brief opening statement.
“If the court pleases, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, at this time on behalf of the People, I will make to you an opening statement, which will explain the prosecution’s case and state what we will prove as the trial progresses.
“The People’s case will be divided into generally three phases. First, we will establish the death of Adolph Coors III and that it was caused by excessive bleeding and shock due to two bullet holes in the back. Second, we will establish the scene of the crime as Turkey Creek Bridge in the vicinity of Soda Lakes in Jefferson County. We will show this is where Ad Coors was shot. And third, the large amount of circumstantial evidence will show that Adolph Coors III was killed by this defendant.
“As to the first phase, the testimony of Edward Greene will indicate…”
Hardesty proceeded to summarize the facts his office intended to prove during the trial. A dentist would identify the teeth of a skull as those belonging to Adolph Coors III. Ad Coors’s widow and his brothers would identify the clothing and personal effects discovered with the bones. Photos and the actual right shoulder blade would show two irregular shaped holes caused by projectiles at high velocity. Gunpowder residue would show the gun was held against or within an inch of Ad Coors’s body when fired. The milkman would testify to discovering the abandoned Travelall with its radio playing and engine running. Various witnesses would testify about a hat, typewriter and paper, cars seen, and soil samples. Finally, the prosecution would show Corbett and Osborne were one and the same man.
Immediately following Hardesty’s opening statement, rather than launching into his own opening statement, defense attorney Bill Erickson requested to make a motion out of the presence of the jury. The judge asked the jurors to retire to the jury room. Erickson then made a motion before the judge to direct a verdict of not guilty (a request that the judge, not the jury, determine that the prosecution failed to present legally sufficient evidence for a reasonable jury to reach a verdict of guilty).
“If the matters set forth by Mr. Hardesty are true and established beyond a reasonable doubt,” asserted Erickson, “the prosecution has fallen short of establishing that a crime of first-degree murder has been committed … Assuming the evidence to be just as it was outlined by Mr. Hardesty, they have failed to show that the allegations and charges they have made are true.”
Erickson presented citations to court cases procedurally favoring his motion and then continued. “Favoring it in every way and giving them the benefit of every reasonable doubt … all that … they have said is that Adolph Coors III is dead, and that there are circumstances which might cause some people to wonder … It is a clear case where there is no evidence … that would in anywise connect Joseph Corbett Jr. with the crime charged by the district attorney.”
After hearing arguments by the prosecution that the sufficiency of the evidence should be determined by the jury, Judge Stoner agreed with the prosecution and promptly ruled, “The motion will be denied. Let’s call the jury back in.”
Corbett’s murder trial would continue.
“Then, Your Honor, the defense will reserve its opening statement to the close of the trial,” said Erickson, preferring to wait until the end of the murder trial to directly assert before the jury the defense counsel’s belief that the prosecution failed to prove Corbett murdered Ad Coors.
With no defense opening statement, the prosecution commenced presenting its case to the jury.
“If it pleases the court, the prosecution calls Edward Greene,” said Mr. Hardesty, as the court reporter tapped out the prosecutor’s words on a stenotype machine and then paused while a bailiff escorted the witness into the courtroom.
A young man in a starched white shirt and gray slacks with a meticulously groomed, lustrous pompadour entered the witness-box. He was awkwardly sworn in by the bailiff, since both were nervous standing in front of a courtroom packed with spectators. Not one space on the courtroom benches lay bare, and if one did become vacant, a line of folks in the corridor stood ready to snatch it up.
“State your name, please.”
“Edward Greene.”
“Where do you presently reside, Mr. Greene?”
“5595 West Twenty-eighth Avenue…”
“Now directing your attention to September 11, 1960,… what did you do when you arrived at the dump?”
“I got out and walked around, hunting for a place where I could shoot a gun.…”
Greene told of finding Ad’s pants with loose change and a pocketknife with Ad’s initials AC III. Following Greene, FBI agent Robert Nelson took the witness stand and testified of traveling to the dump site with Greene and Riddle and Special Agents Doug Williams, Jesse Orr, and Bill Malone to comb the area. Next, Special Agent Scott Werner
testified to directing a five-day sweep for more bones and personal items. Sheriff Hammond wasn’t called, since his testimony wasn’t essential. The items of jewelry and blood-soiled and ripped clothing were introduced as evidence and passed among the jurors over fierce objection by the defense. Some jurors studied them carefully while others only glanced with revulsion.
The testimony and exhibits may have opened the trial with solemnity and horror, but the courtroom would not always be so somber. There were moments when Corbett actually smiled. One of those moments occurred that first morning when Judge Stoner gave the bailiffs a blistering lecture in court. During the morning recess, Bailiff Smith took hot coffee to the jury room. That was a nice gesture by the court, except the bailiff served the coffee from a discarded box that carried the bright red letters COORS, an act viewed by the judge as having the potential to signal court partiality for the Coors family. Such an act could prejudice or sway the opinions of jurors outside the courtroom where defense attorneys could not object. Judge Stoner was furious. “I have warned and warned and warned you about matters like this. It is inexcusable. Here I have four bailiffs; none of them knows what they’re doing.”
Corbett’s smiles were welcomed by journalists who wrote about the defendant’s every gesture in their next editions.
“He was courteous, but his eyes were cold and emotionless. There was nothing there when he spoke about the case,” said Charles Brega years later, the young legal associate assisting Corbett’s defense attorneys, Erickson and Mackay. District Attorney Hardesty agreed, having observed Corbett during the trial smiling and nodding, yielding to others who walked near, and being respectful to everyone in court. He was “friendly and quiet,” said Hardesty. “He carried himself like he was anybody else. You wouldn’t know he was the defendant in the biggest murder trial in the state.”
Hardesty especially had reason to commend Corbett’s courtroom demeanor. Once, when Corbett and his attorneys were standing near the judge’s chambers, Hardesty asked, “Is the restroom occupied?” Corbett spoke up and replied yes, but after a few moments realized he may have been mistaken and checked. Seeing it was empty, Corbett held the door for the prosecutor to enter and politely said to the man who was doing his best to send Corbett to prison for life, “I must have been mistaken, Mr. Hardesty, sorry, there’s nobody in there.”
So affable had Corbett been during jury selection earlier in the week that Assistant District Attorney Richard Hite angrily complained to the judge. “Your Honor, during recesses, the defendant is being treated by the bailiffs and reporters like he is an A-1 citizen, acting all buddy-buddy in full view of potential jurors.”
Defense counsel objected. “How is he supposed to act? After all,” said Malcolm Mackay to the judge, “he is innocent until proven guilty.”
With the burden of proof and having only circumstantial evidence in their arsenal, the prosecution would have its hands full convincing the jury of Corbett’s guilt. The prosecution needed all twelve jurors to agree on Corbett’s guilt to obtain a conviction. Corbett needed only one.
* * *
Workers at the brewery didn’t notice Ad’s absence anymore. There was no statue of Ad out front, no bronze plaque inside, no speeches made, and no epitaphs given. It was the Coors way. Still, the news reports of the trial echoed throughout the brewery. Workers read newspaper accounts and spoke to coworkers about the case during breaks.
Yet management was determined to operate their business as usual. As Bill later said, “To me nostalgia is a waste of time. It doesn’t do you any good. You have to look ahead.”
Bill and Joe absorbed or delegated Ad’s duties, and the company didn’t miss a beat. After a respectful amount of time passed, Bill packed up Ad’s personal effects from his desk and returned them to Mary: a family photo, a Denver Bears paperweight, a photo of an Arlberg Ski Club group from years earlier, and sundry items that become a fixture on a person’s desk through the years. The desk itself remained for a long time, acting as an appendage to the desks of Bill and Joe and a reminder of their brother’s absence until they eventually moved to new offices a few years later.
Even the electricians’ strike was unaffected by the murder of the Coors company chairman. Though Ad was considered by most union management as the best of the bunch, they finally struck about the time Ad’s remains were discovered.
Ad’s kidnapping and murder, coupled with more union interference, pulled a scab off an old wound for Bill and Joe, causing the brothers to be more suspicious of their employees than ever before. Joe believed he would be kidnapped at any moment. He even recorded the serial numbers of bills he carried in his wallet. Joe’s fear may have emanated partly from his conservative beliefs, which could be as passionate as Holly’s had become about Christianity. Besides firm conservative views about the world, its races, and other social subjects, Joe was distrustful of those less fortunate, though he firmly believed there should be the less fortunate. A worker class who were to remain workers unless they, like his grandfather Adolph Coors, became entrepreneurs and pulled themselves up into the ownership class by hard work and determination (even though Joe had not done so himself).
Bill was more practical, and his opinions on issues were either black or white, leaving the ideological philosophy to his brother Joe. Bill’s biggest concerns were not social but business. Yet Bill’s views about workers coincided with Joe’s, regardless of political labels. When it came to running the brewery and handling the union, Bill stated bluntly, “I don’t remember Grandfather telling me any of these people’s ancestors were his partners.” At the end of the day, it was his family’s business. Period. They could do what they wanted to do with it. No one, including the workers or their union, could tell the Coors family how to run the company. To Bill, the main issue was the foundation of capitalism and basic freedom, not politics. The freedom to do with one’s own property the way he wishes. Coors would pay what the market required. An honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work. They would do whatever was necessary to retain skilled, honest, and loyal workers. As Bill later recalled, “I asked [a staunch union employee] why he stayed at Coors, then, if everything was so bad. He replied, ‘If I could find a job half as good as this one, I’d quit.’” Thus, if a worker didn’t like the pay or working conditions, he was free to go work somewhere else. It was that simple.
Yet in truth, their labor relations had become complex, if not paranoid. The brothers began requiring applicants and existing employees to take a lie detector test to weed out “undesirables.” The tests were said to include questions such as:
1. What is your sexual preference?
2. Do you get along with your wife?
3. Are you a subversive, revolutionary, or communist?
4. Do you have money in the bank?
5. Have you ever smoked marijuana?
6. Are you applying for a job with this company so you can do it or any of its employees harm?
7. Are you presently wanted by the authorities for a felony?
They asked these questions even though Corbett had not been an employee. Yet they feared that an employee could become another Corbett. The fear of the unknown troubled them now. Fear of physical or financial harm.
“We decided that in the future, obscurity would be our best security,” Bill later said. “We retreated as best we could from public view.”
Corbett had done more than kill one Coors brother. He’d frightened two more into suspecting everyone.
* * *
The case against Corbett was circumstantial but extensive. FBI agents had located his yellow Mercury, sighted numerous times near the Coors ranch and Turkey Creek Bridge with him in it or standing near. The same car he burned in Atlantic City. They had testimony that he purchased guns, handcuffs, leg irons, and camping equipment. Chain had been found in a pail at the rear of his apartment with his fingerprint. They also had a hat from Turkey Creek Bridge that was his size and according to some witnesses matched the general type and col
or of the one he wore. Clerks testified Corbett purchased a typewriter and paper of the kind that matched the ransom note. The FBI said it collected soil from underneath the yellow Mercury that matched soil near the bridge and the site where Ad’s body had been dumped. Corbett also was a fugitive who’d told two coworkers he was planning something big. In addition, he’d told coworkers he’d changed his plan several months before, which happened to coincide with the time Ad Coors and his family moved from Denver to their ranch. Moreover, Corbett had hastily left Denver the morning after Ad’s disappearance, telling his landlady only the night before he was leaving. He’d run all the way to and across Canada, where he came close to a confession when he blurted out during his arrest, “I’m your man.”
Hardesty’s opening statement at the start of the trial might have made the prosecution’s case sound solid, perhaps even irrefutable. But it wasn’t. Corbett still had a chance at acquittal. The prosecution had absolutely no direct evidence. There was no eyewitness. In fact, no one had seen Corbett or the yellow Mercury or the dark-colored Dodge anywhere near the bridge or the dumpsite on the day of the disappearance. The prosecution didn’t have the typewriter that typed the ransom note, or paper matching the note from Corbett’s apartment, or bullets from Ad Coors’s body that matched a gun belonging to Corbett. Even the hat found at the scene of the disappearance wasn’t without doubt.
During the trial, Hardesty called Harry Merys, the husband of Corbett’s landlady, to the stand. The district attorney asked several questions about Corbett, his car, the bucket with chain that Mr. Merys found out back, and received several incriminating answers. He should not have asked Merys about the hat.
“Mr. Merys, calling your attention to People’s Exhibit C2 [the brown fedora], will you state whether or not you have seen that before?”
“I saw a hat that he wore that was similar to that, but I wouldn’t say that I saw this hat before,” Mr. Merys replied from the witness box.