The Mammoth Book of Celebrity Murders (36 page)

As the crowd gathered on Taylor’s porch a number of other individuals arrived on the scene, presumably despatched from the studio, their motive an apparent cleanup operation. Even as
Hollywood was emerging as a major centre of film-making excellence it had already begun to reel from a number of scandalous revelations marking the beginning of the media’s obsession with
celebrity. As if these overpaid, overindulgent actors didn’t have enough bad press already, the newspapers had been thriving on a couple of recent episodes which had left a severe blemish on
Hollywood’s not quite untarnished reputation. The first of these scandals was the affair between Fatty Arbuckle and the ironically named Virginia Rappe. Arbuckle had carved himself out a
lucrative career as a silver screen comedian whose talent had made him popular with the public for many years. Unfortunately Rappe had died at one of Arbuckle’s many parties. When the police
arrived they arrested Arbuckle on rape charges, suggesting he had raped her in such a way as to cause her death. It was assumed the overweight actor had somehow managed to rupture the young
woman’s bladder, although much more gross versions of events were circulated in the press. Although Arbuckle was tried three times he was eventually acquitted, but not before the press had
dismantled his reputation. Among some of the worst headlines a person could endure, Arbuckle’s fame and public acceptance were lost and his career effectively ended.

Hot on the heels of the Arbuckle headlines came another scandal which would rock the world of Hollywood. The popular actor Wallace Reid, blonde hair, blue eyed and athletic, died of a
drugs-related illness. Long before it was commonplace or even fashionable to have an addiction, let alone be seen to be cured of it, Reid was a morphine addict. The studio had kept it as quiet as
they could and enlisted the help of a sanatorium to help break the addiction, but his addiction was much stronger than anyone could have expected and the stress caused by being denied the drugs
brought on a fatal heart attack. Once again the press jumped on the story and criticized the whole of the Hollywood set-up for its hedonistic behaviour.

It was to this backdrop therefore that colleagues of Taylor entered the house to remove any incriminating evidence, apparently even if this meant interfering with the scene of the crime –
the show must go on. It is now alleged that it was Charles Eyton of Paramount who led the clean-up operation at the time of Taylor’s death. In her book
The Honeycomb
, Adele Rogers St
John claimed that her husband Ike had also been dispatched to Alvarado Court as part of the clean-up effort; she also claimed that he picked up a pair of monogrammed knickers from the bedroom with
the initials M.M.M on them, which it was thought stood for Mary Miles Minter. She further states that the instruction for Ike to attend came from the mayor of Hollywood, who could not stand the
thought of yet more bad publicity for his city.

When the police did arrive they themselves started to examine the scene and begin making enquiries. One of the many mysteries surrounding Taylor’s death concerns a man who was at the scene
who claimed to be a doctor, but who did not give his name. Before the police entered the house he told a police officer, Tom Ziegler, that he had examined the body and that Taylor had in fact died
of natural causes, although when inspecting the crime scene it was patently obvious that Taylor had suffered a major trauma. The would-be doctor was never found and no motive has ever been
established as to why this individual provided this unsolicited and incorrect diagnosis.

When the police arrived in their cars it is thought that a variety of studio cars were just leaving, having removed a quantity of bootleg booze and a large number of Taylor’s private
letters, some of which appeared to have been burned in his fireplace. The police now had a murder on their hands. William Desmond Taylor, whose birth name was William Cunningham Deane-Tanner, had
been shot, presumably with murder in mind, because although the studio had obviously removed many items, the killer had not.

When news of Taylor’s murder emerged the press were naturally keen to pursue the story – here was another high-profile member of the Hollywood elite who had been killed. Stories and
rumours circulated immediately, many of which the press were happy to report; none of it made great reading for Hollywood and very few reporters were keen to treat it as a plain murder. The lack of
a robbery clearly presented a dilemma for the police and for the press – if Taylor had been singled out for murder then there must have been something which caused it. If the police could
find the reason they might then find the person.

For all his apparent wealth Taylor’s recent history before he died had not always been plain sailing. While he was on a trip to England recuperating from an illness, his first valet,
Edward Sands, had taken Taylor’s car out and had wrecked it; he then forged cheques for over $5,000 and took clothes and jewellery. Sands was never caught; he simply disappeared before
Taylor’s return and no trace of him could be found.

Taylor’s choice of replacement for Sands also looked on paper to be a strange decision for he elected to employ a known felon called Henry Peavey who was later arrested for vagrancy and
indecent exposure, a charge often associated with cruising homosexuals. Rather than sack Peavey it was Taylor who put up bail money for his beleaguered valet. Taylor’s behaviour in respect of
his home help did not go unnoticed by the papers or by the police when it came to searching out the motive for his killing, and Peavey became the first name on their list.

Taylor was born in Ireland in 1872, the second of four children. His father, Kearns Deane-Tanner, was a major in the British Army and by all standards they lived a fairly affluent lifestyle.
Like most families at that time the father was the source of most discipline and Major Deane-Tanner was never slow in delivering what was needed to keep his large family on the straight and narrow.
Taylor left home in his teens and managed to find work on the stage – it was 1890 when he landed a bit part in a production of
The Private Secretary
. When his father learned of his
son’s occupation he felt he could take the disgrace no longer and enrolled him in a place called Runnymeade, an institution in Kansas aimed at sorting out young miscreants. The only good
thing to come out of his stay in Kansas was his fondness for horses, an interest which stayed with him throughout his life and which also came in handy when he took acting roles in a variety of
Western movies.

In 1901 he moved to New York City where once again he found himself on the stage, and it was here in the same year that he married Ethel May Harrison, an aspiring actress. As his acting career
struggled and he failed to get better parts he could no longer afford to support his wife and their new baby, so he decided to go into the family antique business, financed by his father-in-law. As
the years ticked by Taylor became bored with the business and bored with his marriage – he still longed to be an actor. It was in September 1908 that he asked staff at his antique business to
give an envelope to his wife containing $500, took the balance of their wealth, some $100, and fled the family home without a word of goodbye.

Roaming from state to state and taking on a number of menial jobs he eventually ended up in San Francisco where once again he found work on the stage. Changing his name he gravitated towards the
burgeoning film industry, shooting a few westerns before winning his first starring role in the film
Captain Alvarez
, his experience with horses once again proving very handy. After a few
years acting Taylor finally made his move to the other side of the camera with his first directorial role, when he was asked to direct a movie for the Balboa Studio.

It was while directing the film
The Awakening
that Taylor fell in love with Neva Gerber, his lead actress, who was married but separated. She had one daughter from her marriage and
although she no longer wanted to live with her older husband the rules on divorce meant getting the appropriate approvals were prolonged and difficult, so Taylor and Gerber maintained a close
though unofficial relationship.

When the Balboa Studio went into bankruptcy in 1917 Taylor and Gerber ended their relationship and Taylor moved to the American Film Company, often referred to as the Flying “A”. It
was here that he first hit the big time when he was asked to direct the remaining episodes of a serial called
The Diamond from the Sky
, after its initial director, Jacques Jaccard, was lured
away to Universal. The serial was a box office smash and the cast and crew presented Taylor with a two-carat diamond ring as a mark of their appreciation. He followed this with a number of highly
successful films which earned himself and the studio a great deal of money.

America’s entry into the First World War came along and temporarily interrupted Taylor’s rising star, although he never saw combat as the war ended before he could be posted. His
talent was in demand straight away and he immediately returned to directing, having more hits with
Anne of Green Gables
and
The Green Temptation
, the latter being the last film he
made before meeting his tragic end.

The murder of a well-known Hollywood player brought the attentions of both the police and the media in equal measure. With the media torn between a desire to find the killer and a wish to
disclose the scandal they thought had caused the murder, the police simply followed procedure – it was well known that one ex-employee had already robbed Taylor, maybe he had simply come back
for more. The fact that Taylor had not been robbed could have been put down to a number of things, panic being one of them.

The police therefore focused their attention on Taylor’s first butler, 27-year-old Edward Sands, the short, fat, ruddy faced man who impressed most who met him with his easygoing manner
and impeccable English standards. Although he spoke with a Cockney accent, it was presumed this was false as Sands – real name Edward Snyder – was in fact a citizen of Ohio. The police
also established that he had more of a troubled history than Taylor was obviously aware of, for having joined the Navy in 1911 at the age of 17 he was court-martialled for embezzlement and served
12 months in a navy prison before being dishonourably discharged. Strangely Sands then enlisted in the Navy again, deserting just a few months later after which he applied to the Army under the
rather grand false name of Edward FitzStrathmore. Securing a job in the finance department of the Columbus, Ohio, army depot he soon found himself in a position of great temptation. Unable to
resist, he soon passed a forged cheque before once more deserting his post.

It was during his employment with Taylor that Sands once more suffered great temptation when his boss went on a trip to England, effectively doing a house swap with his friend and playwright,
Edward Knoblock. Taylor used Knoblock’s home in London and Knoblock came to stay in Alvarado Court. Concerned that his friend might have additional requirements while he was in London, Taylor
gave Sands a blank cheque and asked him to use it should Knoblock need anything. Sands cashed the cheque for $5,000 and, telling his new house guest that he had been recently married, he asked for
time off to go on honeymoon, to which the unassuming Knoblock agreed. Sands packed his bags and disappeared, taking a number of valuables with him.

When Taylor returned in August 1921 and found Sands, his money and valuables gone and his car wrecked, he contacted the police who searched in vain – Sands was nowhere to be seen. The
police continued to search for Sands after Taylor’s death but were unable to trace him, and no charges were ever brought as there was no evidence to connect him to the crime, let alone to
suggest he was even in the vicinity at the time. The police though felt that Sands was more of a crime-for-gain type of a criminal and to leave Taylor with obvious money and jewellery on him would
not have been his style. Sands had never been mistreated by Taylor – if anything the opposite was true – indeed Taylor had the highest regard for him and had even told his friends that
he was the best valet in the world.

Although the police were satisfied that Sands was an unlikely murderer, Taylor’s friends and certain members of the media always had their doubts. However Sands’ departure left the
way open for Henry Peavey to step in as valet number two. Black, tall and muscular, Peavey was quickly ruled out of the investigation by the police, although it was known he had a police record for
vagrancy and indecent exposure. The police’s belief in Peavey’s innocence was not shared by everyone, and a reporter named Florabel Muir was totally convinced that he was the killer.
Taking investigative journalism to new heights Muir believed she could trick Peavey into a confession and set about creating the trap. It may have been a sign of the times for Muir did not engage
in a complex plan but rather staged a simple trick geared to extracting a simple confession. She enlisted the help of two friends, Frank Carson and Al Weinshank, who would aid and abet Muir in the
execution of the little plot. Approaching Peavey, Muir and Carson explained that they did not know where Taylor’s grave was in the cemetery and asked if he could show them for the sum of ten
dollars. Peavey readily agreed and began walking towards the area of the cemetery but as they approached the grave Weinshank, who had draped a white cotton sheet over his head, jumped out of a bush
and stood there trying to look ghostly. He then said, “I am the ghost of William Desmond Taylor. You murdered me, confess Peavey,” to which the shocked Peavey burst out laughing, soon
realising what the trio had been up to and vented his fury at them for attempting such a sick trick.

Although their play didn’t work certain members of the media continued to suspect that Peavey was the murderer. Stories and rumours continued to circulate about Peavey – it was even
suggested that Peavey and Taylor were having a gay liaison and that Peavey might have killed his boss in a jealous rage. There was certainly some evidence to suggest that if he wasn’t gay
Taylor may have been bisexual. Art director George Eyton, who was gay, knew Taylor quite well, and had told a reporter he was one of the people dispatched to Alvarado Court on the day
Taylor’s body was found. When the reporter asked what his job at the house was, Eyton said he had to collect all of the letters from upstairs. When asked why the letters were so important, he
replied that Taylor slept with men. Eyton also claimed that Sands had blackmailed Taylor over his relations with men and suggested that Peavey was gay, his indecent exposure charge supporting this
claim. It was also suggested that Peavey used to visit the park with a view to soliciting young boys, unless of course this was one of the duties he performed for Taylor.