The Mammoth Book of Hollywood Scandals (12 page)

Christmas Eve soon arrived and Lottie decided to host one of her wild parties at her home at 6622 Iris Drive, Los Angeles, which was attended by her friends and admirers Daniel E. Jaeger and Jack Daugherty. The party lived up to Lottie’s reputation and quickly became so out of hand that fed-up neighbours called the police to complain about the noise. Detectives arrived at the home but were more interested in determining whether or not the alcohol laws had been violated, rather than noise pollution. However, their investigations into the alcohol situation petered out and the party seemed to calm down. The police asked the group to keep the noise down, before heading off into the night.

Unfortunately for Lottie, not long after the police departed, friends Jack Daugherty and Daniel E. Jaeger decided to have a stern talk with one another about their attentions towards the actress. A fight broke out on the lawn between the jealous pair, which climaxed when Daugherty sank his teeth into the middle finger of Jaeger’s right hand, almost severing it completely.

The resulting fracas once again attracted the neighbours’ attention and the police were called again, arriving just after Daugherty had left, last seen slipping out of a side door with other parting guests. The detectives discovered Jaeger bleeding profusely and swiftly sent him to hospital, where he refused to make any formal complaints against his love-rival. Several weeks later Jaeger was arrested on suspicion of forgery, which, although completely unrelated to the Pickford party, nevertheless dragged Lottie’s name into the mud once again.

When Lottie spoke of the party incident to reporters, she tried to laugh the entire thing off, claiming, “Oh the boys just raised a little whoopee, but they’re good friends now.” She also tried to assure them that she had not been privy to most of the row, had no idea what the “scrap” was about and, besides, “I didn’t get here until it was about over.”

Detectives continued to investigate the incident and neighbours told them that they had been frequently disturbed at night by noise coming from Lottie Pickford’s home. On New Year’s Eve 1928, however, the case was closed when the complainants were unable to identify for sure that it really was Lottie making the noise in the house; an outcome that must have frustrated the entire neighbourhood.

After the scandals of the last year, Lottie decided to settle down in July 1929 and married an undertaker, Russell O. Gillard, although her sister, Mary Pickford, declined to attend the wedding. Perhaps she had heard that when filing for a marriage certificate, Lottie gave her name as Lotta Rupp and then became furious when she was recognized by reporters: “I don’t want anything about this in the papers,” she shouted. “I was trying to keep this marriage secret.” Then quite bizarrely she turned to the head of the marriage licence bureau and angrily told her, “I’ve changed my mind, tear that application up.”

Her shocked fiancé tried to calm her down, and as she left the building Lottie shouted back to the registrar, “All right, let it ride!” She then demanded to know how the reporters knew that Lotta Rupp was the same person as Lottie Pickford, and when they explained that her parents’ names were the same as the ones given on her last licence, she was unfazed. “That’s just a coincidence,” she snarled. It was not the most positive of starts for a happy marriage and, sure enough, three years later she filed for divorce, charging cruelty and claiming that her husband embarrassed her, called her vile names and abandoned her at the home of friends.

In June 1933, before the divorce from Gillard had even come through, Lottie wedded another admirer, John Locke, paying no attention at all to the fact that she was now a bigamist. “If this gets back to Los Angeles there’ll be trouble,” she laughed. “But of course the California authorities must prove where our secret marriage took place before they can separate us,” she added.

By 1935 Lottie’s party days were almost over and she spent much of her last years in and out of hospital, battling influenza among other ailments. Finally, on 9 December 1936, she suffered a massive heart attack and passed away at her home at 577 Burlington Avenue, Los Angeles. She was buried at Forest Lawn Memorial Park where 150 friends attended a private ceremony to say goodbye. In life she had been an outrageous figure, never far from scandal but loved by her friends and associates. Sadly, in death she is all but forgotten, her colourful life being overshadowed by her estranged sister Mary’s legacy, which continues to this very day.

Christine Collins may not have starred in a movie, won an Oscar or received a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, but her story is most certainly tied to the world of Hollywood scandals, due partly to her living in Los Angeles, and because of one young boy’s obsession with film star Tom Mix. But before we can talk about that, we must first learn a little more about Christine Collins and the tragic circumstances that led to her losing everything during a dreadful, dark period in 1928.

Born in California during 1888, Christine Ida Dunne grew up to marry a gentleman by the name of Walter J. Collins, aka Conrad Collins, and settled in Los Angeles where she went on to give birth to a son, also named Walter, in September 1918.

Unfortunately, life was not easy for Christine Collins, as her husband did not prove to be the reliable person for whom she had hoped. He had previously spent two terms in prison, though had conveniently forgotten to tell his unsuspecting fiancée this information at the time they were married. There could have been two reasons for this: either Walter Senior wanted to forget his past and move on as a law-abiding citizen, or else he wanted to keep his prior indiscretions quiet as he intended to go on with his life of crime in the future.

Sadly, it would seem that it was the latter. Walter Sr had no intention of becoming a respectable citizen just because he was a husband and father, and he was unable – or unwilling – to hold down a regular job. It didn’t come as a surprise when the couple’s finances quickly began to spiral out of control and Christine was left wondering what on earth she had got herself into.

Added to her worries came news that Walter Sr’s mother had fallen ill, which seems to have been a catalyst for him to gear up his shady business deals by gaining employment with an illegal drinking establishment. As if this wasn’t bad enough, he then took the decision to be part of a robbery, which ultimately would be Walter Sr’s undoing and led to his third incarceration, this time for forty years at Folsom Prison, Represa, California.

Christine was heartbroken but in spite of everything she still continued to believe her husband was innocent and assured everyone – rather short-sightedly, it would seem – that in all the years she had known Walter, he had always lived a straight life and been a good provider. When friends pointed out his many shortcomings, Christine brushed them aside, saying that perhaps he had temporarily lost his mind as a result of the debts and worry over his mother.

In spite of what the woman believed about her husband, the simple fact was that she was now the breadwinner of the family, and Christine very quickly had to come to terms with this fact. The mother of one had always been of a nervous disposition but now – in between bouts of sickness – she acquired a job as a supervisor at a telephone exchange where she was often forced to work long into the evening hours, just to make ends meet.

In spite of her nerves and the exhaustion she felt as a single, working mother, Christine was a very determined lady and took it upon herself to write endless letters to the prison where Walter Sr was held, begging officials to obtain his release. Every spare moment she had away from her job and son was spent writing notes to anyone she believed could help, including Thomas Gannon from the prison board. Unfortunately, writing to Gannon did not have the outcome she wanted, and instead of securing Walter Sr’s release, the official was instead saddled with informing Christine of her husband’s shady past.

When Christine read the letter telling her that Walter Sr had been in prison several times before, she was utterly bewildered and devastated. “I was very unaware of Mr Collins’ previous offenses,” she wrote to Gannon in 1925. “I was really surprised as well as greatly disappointed.”

In spite of this, Christine still believed her husband should be released from prison, and upped her attempts in this regard. She continued to write to the prison as often as she could, but then also made the mistake of hiring a lawyer in San Francisco, who assured her he would be able to help with the case. Of course, in advance of his assistance, he would need $250 sent to him as soon as possible, and unbelievably Christine decided this was a good investment and forwarded the money, which she had borrowed from one of her friends.

Sadly, after six long months of letters, there remained no contact from the lawyer, who had conveniently disappeared the moment he received the cash. She tried for a long time to get the money back, but eventually Christine was faced with the inevitable reality that in spite of the lawyer’s claims to be able to help her, she was now – more than ever – on her own.

Still depressed from being scammed by the lawyer, Christine then made the awful mistake of sending a sum of money to Thomas Gannon, in order to show her “appreciation” for his help. Utterly appalled, when Gannon received the cash he immediately wrote back to Collins and chastised her for trying to bribe him in some way. “Please understand,” she wrote back, “I meant it as a personal appreciation and not as compensation in the least.” Whether her “appreciation” was as innocent as she said remains to be seen, but certainly she was desperate enough to try anything at that point in order to have her husband returned to the family home.

By the time January 1928 rolled round, Christine Collins was on the verge of a nervous breakdown and had been ordered to rest by her doctor. Unfortunately, this was not possible, given that she had rent to pay and a child to support, so instead she continued to work long hours at the telephone exchange and kept on writing letters in the hope of freeing her husband. “We really need his support,” she wrote to the chairman of the prison board, adding how very sincere she was in stating that fact.

Finally, in February 1928, Christine received some hopeful news when George B. Anderson, Transportation Manager at Los Angeles Railway (and Walter Sr’s former employer), agreed to approve any request for parole. Unfortunately, no parole hearing ever came and she had to continue with her work, which often involved working weekends. Neither Christine nor her son Walter enjoyed the weekend work but as a single parent she barely had a choice if she wanted to provide for her family. As a result, on Saturday, 10 March 1928, the young woman was called into work at the telephone exchange and she was forced to leave her son to fend for himself until she got home.

In order to entertain the child while she was gone, Christine gave him some pocket money and told him to go to the cinema. “I’ll be back later,” she said as she headed out of the door. The child then dressed himself in a red plaid lumber jacket, brown cord trousers and grey cap, and headed off to see a film before his mother was due to return home.

At 5 p.m. the young boy was spotted briefly by his neighbour, Mrs A. Baker, but when Christine returned home later that evening, Walter was not in the house. This came as a surprise to her, since he was supposed to return home as soon as the movie had finished, and in the past he had always been an exceptionally straightforward child who always did as he was told. Fearing the worst, Christine immediately panicked and phoned the police, though they were of no help to the concerned woman, saying they were reluctant to look for the child as he would most likely turn up eventually by himself.

Told to call back if the “runaway” had not returned within twenty-four hours, Christine then spent the next day in utter despair before she had an idea. Telephoning the police again, Christine gave them the information that her husband was incarcerated and that she was worried the child had been kidnapped as revenge by one of his old criminal enemies. This disclosure prompted the police finally to take the woman seriously and they began investigating where on earth the child could have gone.

They did not have much to go on. Apart from the neighbour who had seen Walter at 5 p.m., there were no other clues or sightings, so they took the decision to report the disappearance in the
Los Angeles Times
in order to encourage people to come forward. The report in the paper prompted all sorts of people to contact them, though inevitably the calls they received often led to more questions than answers. Some people claimed they had seen the child with an “Italian-looking man”, others said they spotted him with a man and a woman, while one – a service station attendant – reported rather disturbingly that he had seen a child meeting Walter Jr’s description, dead in the back seat of a Nash sedan.

Everyone had begun to panic by this time and the Lincoln Park lake was dragged in an effort to find the boy. Added to that, many false leads were investigated and people continued to come forward with “sightings” which never came to anything. Finally, after months of investigation, the police were no further forward in finding Walter Collins, and Christine was distraught but – as always – refused to give up hope. “Mrs Collins is confident that no harm has befallen her boy and that he will be safely returned to her,” police told reporters.

Then suddenly, after five months had gone by, Christine Collins received the news for which she had been waiting. Walter had been found, and not only that, he was safe and well. The story went that the child had been found wandering alone in DeKalb, Illinois, and after some prompting, he eventually admitted that he was the child for whom everyone had been looking. Christine was ecstatic and relieved. She paid $70 for his train fare to Los Angeles, and travelled to the train station, where the Los Angeles Police Department had called together many reporters and spectators to witness the event and revel in the fact that they had finally found the missing boy.