The Valentino Affair (48 page)

Whatever the motivation, it worked. One juror, who only spoke under condition of anonymity, revealed that the verdict had been reached on just the second vote. He hinted that on the first ballot two jurors had favored temporary insanity, but they were soon won over to the majority view. Then came the surprising revelation that the jury had been particularly impressed by Hadamek and Ward, both of whom, they thought, had told the truth! Dr. Wight was also singled out for his testimony—“he did not smother facts with long words and medical terms”
²⁸
—and they accepted without demur Blanca’s explanation of the contradictory letters. “She had tried to be a good, old-fashioned wife,” said the juror, “and had failed to keep her husband. Then she tried to play the part of a butterfly, because she believed that would bring him back to her.”
²⁹
One aspect of the trial that did upset the jury was the courtroom conduct of certain members of the de Saulles family. The juror remarked that one of these relatives “kept smiling in a sardonic way”
³⁰
whenever the district attorney scored against the defense.

There was still plenty of work for the lawyers. Because he had died intestate, Jack’s entire estate would go to his son. It was thought that Charles would be appointed administrator and that to prevent any possible complications, Blanca would, by formal decree, have herself made the guardian of her son. While under indictment and in jail, Blanca had been “civilly dead,”
³¹
which left her son subject to no legal control. Even now her path to full guardianship of Jack Jr. was likely to be rocky, with rumors persisting that the de Saulles family was ready to use the court testimony to show that Blanca was an unfit mother.

Given this development it did not come as a shock when, next day, Blanca suffered a relapse and was ordered to bed by Dr. Wight. Rich litigants—be they in criminal or civil court—seem unusually prone to illness when confronted by legal adversity. It would be several days, said Wight, before she would be permitted to leave her room or meet friends. This left Amalia and Guillermo to deal with the scores of congratulatory letters and telegrams that were flooding into Crossways. On Blanca’s specific instructions, none were made public.

Press bewilderment over the verdict rumbled on. A
NOTHER
P
RETTY
W
OMAN
H
AS
B
EEN
A
CQUITTED
³²
ran one newspaper headline above an article that rounded up incredulous reaction from journals from as far afield as Savannah, Philadelphia, and Kansas City. A cartoon reproduced from the
New York Herald,
depicting an attractive young woman skipping through a jailhouse door, beneath a caption that read “Of Course!” caught the general mood of weary resignation over the jury’s decision.

Even the
New York Law Journal,
mouthpiece of the New York County Supreme Court, took issue with Uterhart over the defense. When the verdict came in, the
Law Journal
took the same view as the
New York Times:
“Probably there never was a flimsier insanity defense presented in any court.” Uterhart bridled under the attack from his peers and denied that he had made any reference to the “unwritten law.” He had, he insisted, followed precepts laid down in the recent Malcolm murder trial in England,
³³
in which defense counsel expressly disclaimed any and every suspicion of an appeal to the unwritten law.

Others simply wanted to set the record straight. John E. Bruce, president of the Negro Society for Historical Research, in a letter to the
New York Tribune,
blasted Blanca for her racist remarks on the stand, in particular her assertion that “we don’t have them [blacks] in my country.” Bruce then delivered a history lesson of the colonization of Chile by African Americans dating from as early as 1515. Other references to African Americans in Chile were to be found in the works of Charles Darwin, said Bruce. Perhaps, he concluded, Blanca’s ignorance of her own country’s history owed much to “her long residence outside of it.”
³⁴

Sadly, this case had one more victim to claim. On Christmas Eve, just three weeks after he had seen his son’s killer walk free, Major Arthur Brice de Saulles died at age seventy-seven. By common consent, the tragedy and the strain of testifying at the trial had hastened his end. One of his last acts was to order a generous assortment of Christmas gifts for the grandson whom he loved so much, and who had been the reason for his fateful visit to The Box on the night of the shooting.

Two days later, Señora Errázuriz-Vergara and Guillermo returned to Chile, leaving Amalia with Blanca. The sisters spent New Year’s together and then on January 11, 1918, with a blizzard bearing down on New York, they left, with Jack Jr., for California. With them was the ever-loyal Suzanne. While in San Francisco, Blanca instructed her lawyers to draw up the necessary documents in her action to obtain the sole legal right to her son’s custody.

Being in California gave Blanca time to relax. If she ever intended seeing Rodolfo again, now would have been the time. But Blanca was not interested. Rodolfo Guglielmi had served his purpose; she had no desire to share her triumph with some insignificant nightclub performer. It was time to move on.

Rodolfo was not so fortunate. His life since moving to Los Angeles had been one of perpetual disappointment. He spent his days tramping around agents’ offices, and at night he retreated to his tiny apartment on Sunset Boulevard to find the mailbox stuffed with letters from Italy warning that his mother’s health was failing fast. Then came the black-bordered letter that he had dreaded. It told him that on January 18, Gabriella had died. He tried to keep his grief private, but friends noticed a new desolation in his face. At night, locked away alone in his room, he sobbed bitterly. Within a matter of weeks he had lost the two most important women in his life, one to mortality, the other to fate. It was a terrible wrenching away of all that he held dear.

In the meantime, Blanca was long gone. On January 21, the woman who just over one month earlier had told reporters she had no intention of leaving North America arrived in Honolulu. Even there she was hounded by reporters. She told them that she and her son only wanted some rest and that, in hopes of stifling any further press intrusion, she intended reverting to her maiden name.

Back in Manhattan, more details of Jack de Saulles’s financial arrangements were beginning to emerge, and they didn’t make pretty reading for those who claimed that the dead realtor had no need of his wife’s fortune. At the time of his death, he was neck-deep in debt. Most of his money problems had been caused by improvements he lavished on The Box. To clear some of these debts, it was thought that Jack’s string of international-class polo ponies would have to be auctioned off in the spring.