Murder: True Crime Stories - UNSOLVED: William Desmond Taylor, Pt. 1

Episode Date: July 2, 2024

William Desmond Taylor was one of early Hollywood's biggest celebrities. But before he became a famous director, he was an enigma, full of dark secrets. And on February 2nd, 1922, he was found dead in his home, killed by a single gunshot to the back. Murder: True Crime Stories is part of Crime House Studios. For more, follow us on Instagram @crimehouse. To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Hollywood has always been a destination for people looking to reinvent themselves. They become whoever they need to be to get where they want to go. And sometimes, those choices lead to incredible fame and fortune. But when the line between fantasy and reality becomes blurred, things can get dangerous. That's what happened with the murder of William Desmond Taylor, one of old Hollywood's most famous directors. Throughout William's five decades of life, he constantly reinvented himself. reinvented himself, and by the time he was killed in February 1922, it was impossible to know who William Desmond Taylor really was. And when investigators can't separate truth from fiction, justice can be hard to find.

People's lives are like a story. There's a beginning, a middle, and an end. But you don't always know which part you're on. Sometimes the final chapter arrives far too soon, and we don't always get to know the real ending. I'm Carter Roy, and this is Murder True Crime Stories, a Crime House original show powered by Pave Studios. Every Tuesday, I'll explore the story of a notorious murder or murders.

I'll be giving a voice and awareness to stories that need to be heard with a focus on those who are impacted. At Crime House, we want to express our gratitude to you, our community, for making this possible. Please support us by rating, reviewing, and following Murder True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly matters. This is the first of two episodes on the life and murder of silent film director William Desmond Taylor, whose death in February 1922 was one of the world's first Hollywood scandals. This week, we'll follow William's long and winding road from quiet Irish country boy to big-time movie director and the abrupt end to one of the industry's most promising careers.

Next week, we'll go over the main suspects and major theories about who was behind the tragic murder of William Desmond Taylor. All that and more, coming up. Hey everyone, it's Carter. I have a favor to ask you. If you are enjoying Murder True Crime Stories, I would be honored if you took a moment to rate and review us on Apple and Spotify. Your valuable feedback helps us improve and expand our reach so other true crime fans can find us too. Your support means everything. Like so many other Hollywood stars, William Desmond Taylor was a stage name. He was born in Ireland in 1872 as William Cunningham Dean Tanner. William's father, Thomas Carnes Dean Tanner, known as the Major, was an officer in the British Army. His mother,

Jane, had land and money of her own. Though he was second to four children, William held the prestigious position of first son. But it seems like William's relationship with his parents, and his dad in particular, was strained from the start. William was a quiet, creative type, while his dad was a brash military man. Because of William's quiet disposition, the major considered him slow and difficult. So while the rest of the men in his family, including his younger brother, were sent to be educated at prestigious schools, William was kept at home to be tutored with his sisters. But his father underestimated him. William was plenty intelligent, excelling in French and German. He also became an accomplished horseman. Still, the major didn't let William

forget what a disappointment he was. By 1890, when William was 18, he decided he'd had enough. He ran away from home and ended up in Manchester, England. As luck or maybe fate would have it, he came across an acting troupe while he was there and joined up with them. It's unclear whether he had any previous acting experience, but he certainly had the looks to be a star. With dark, wavy hair and a lean physique, William was very handsome.

Along with his first acting role, William changed his name for the first time, going by Cunningham Dean. Unfortunately, a new name wasn't enough of a disguise, and when the show made it to London, family friends spotted William and reported back to the major. To say the major didn't approve of acting as a profession would be an understatement. He was furious and exiled William to the United States. He was to live on a ranch in Kansas called Runnymede, which advertised manhood training in the form of lessons in carpentry, hunting, and horseback riding.

William stayed at Runnymede for a couple years until the ranch went under in 1892. But William didn't relish the idea of going back home to Ireland. Things with the Major were still tense, and he wasn't ready to give up the freedom he'd found in America. Unfortunately, the Major was still supporting William with an allowance, which he cut when his wayward son refused to return. For the first time ever, William needed money and he had to work for it. From here, his trail gets a bit hard to follow. He spent the next few years chasing odd jobs and paychecks until he ended up in New York City.

until he ended up in New York City. Being in New York, the home of Broadway, must have reawakened his love of the theater. And by 1895, 23-year-old William joined another acting company, once again using his stage name, Cunningham Dean. In this time, there were no family friends around to send William back to his father. William got great reviews, but acting wasn't putting much else on his plate. Money was still far too tight, so in 1900 he took a step away from the stage once again to make his way up in society. William reinvented himself once again,

taking the name Pete Tanner and got a job as an antique salesman and part-time interior decorator. He put his charms to work and pretty soon he was hobnobbing with the New York society set. People with old money like the Vanderbilts and Astors accepted him into their circles. Maybe it was the actor in him that gave William a chameleon-like quality, but everywhere he went, people found the man they knew as Pete Tanner irresistible. William caught the eye of many women, but only one drew his attention in return. A 24-year-old actress named Ethel Harrison, who had just been named New York's prettiest chorus girl by Broadway magazine. We don't know exactly when or how they met, but in December of 1901, when William was 29, he and Ethel got married.

Now that William was a married man, he needed a more respectable title than Antique Salesman. He convinced a wealthy friend named Henry Breaker to loan him some money, which he used to buy a stake in the antiques company he worked for. That officially made William a business owner. Meanwhile, his family was growing. William and Ethel welcomed their daughter, Ethel Daisy, in November of 1902. William, who everyone, including his wife, knew as Pete Tanner, was 30 years old, a businessman, husband, and now father. It must have truly seemed like his rough times were behind him. Within two years, the Young family began to spend weekends in a trendy suburb outside of New York City.

William became a member of both the local yacht and golf clubs, where he quickly made lots of friends and business connections. And as the years went by, he seemed to prefer spending time with them instead of with his family. Though William and Ethel seemed like a golden couple, their home life was turbulent. Ethel had always been an emotional person, and she never had trouble expressing it. William, on the other hand, saved his emotions for the stage. This imbalance was desperately uncomfortable for William, so he frequently went out. To escape his wife's sorrows, William liked to go to high-end bars in the city with his yacht club buddies, but free-flowing liquor has only ever made bad situations worse, and by 1907,

William was finding comfort in the arms of other women. Around this time, William's wealthy friend, Henry Breaker, the one who'd loaned William the money to buy into the antique business, passed away. The two of them had been close, and William was expecting to receive some money from his will. However, Henry had remarried 15 months before his death. He completely rewrote his will and made his new wife his primary beneficiary. The only mention of William or Ethel was a line canceling their debt to him. It was a nice gesture, but William was never under the impression Henry had expected to be repaid in the first place. Regardless, there was no inheritance coming, and something in William seemed to change. He started drinking even more than usual and

appeared anxious. His antique business seemed to be in trouble too. Rumors swirled that some of the priceless pieces he'd sold to his influential clientele were fakes. William's troubles were catching up to him, and shortly after Henry Breaker died in September 1908, something finally snapped. After a day at the sailing races with his yacht club friends, William went on a bender. He called one of his antique stores and had the clerk bring $600 to the hotel where he was hiding out. When the clerk arrived, the man who opened the door hardly resembled the boss he'd known for seven years. William was disheveled and unkempt, But more than that, his face looked completely different.

William had shaved the fashionable mustache he'd sported for years and was practically unrecognizable without it. Without saying much, William put $500 in an envelope and told the clerk to take it to Ethel. That was the day Pete Tanner ceased to exist. A new man stepped out of that hotel, ready to begin an entirely new life, this time as William Desmond Taylor. It was the last alias he'd ever take. the last alias he'd ever take. Mind of a Serial Killer Apart is its focus on the twisted psychology of the world's most notorious serial killers.

Names like Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, the Night Stalker, featuring expert psychological analysis from licensed clinical and forensic psychologist Dr. Tristan Engels. Mind of a Serial Killer will take you into their stories like never before. So get ready to uncover what drives someone to commit the unimaginable. Mind of a Serial Killer is a Crime House original. New episodes drop every Monday. Just search Mind of a Serial Killer and follow wherever you listen Listen to podcasts. If you're fascinated by the darker sides of humanity, join us every week on our podcast, Serial Killers, where we go deep into notorious true crime cases. With significant research and careful analysis,

we examine the psyche of a killer, their motives and targets, and law enforcement's pursuit to stop their spree. Follow Serial Killers wherever you get your podcasts and get new episodes every Monday. By 1908, 36-year-old William Cunningham Dean Tanner had lived many lives with many different names, and he just set out on yet another fresh start, this time as William Desmond Taylor. Though he'd just abandoned a wife and child, William didn't venture far to start with, less than 100 miles, in in fact to New Jersey, where he joined a new acting troupe. William was free to be an entirely new version of himself,

or maybe he was returning to his true form, the starving artist. Between acting and various troupes, William took whatever work was around to make the money he needed to live, and eventually he got his big break. By the fall of 1912, William was 40 years old, performing at the Alcatraz Theater in San Francisco when he caught the eye of Thomas Ince, the head of the New York Motion Picture Company. It was still early days in the movie industry, but the groundwork was there for the Hollywood of the future. For one thing, right around 1910 was when actors started to receive credit for their work. So not only were the films themselves reaching international acclaim, now the people in them were too.

And so, William transitioned from the stage to the screen, acting in westerns for Thomas Ince. His first few films were apparently nothing to write home about, but his past training in horsemanship helped him stand out. By 1914, William had become a leading man. By this point, though, he was in his early 40s. Even in the early years of the movie industry, that was pretty late in life to be getting started with a film acting career. So, like he'd done so many other times, he reinvented himself. A nearby studio called Balboa was looking for directors. William had 15 films under his belt by then that, combined with his usual confidence and charm, got him the job.

During his first feature as director in 1914, William made the mistake of falling for his leading lady. Geneva Neva Gerber was young, beautiful, and also had a mysterious past she didn't like talking about. Neva was one of very few who got a good look at William Desmond Taylor, the tortured artist. According to her, every time he rapped on a film, he practically had a nervous breakdown. Whether it was intense anxiety or depression, or maybe both, William fixated on the idea that he'd never lived up to his potential. fixated on the idea that he'd never lived up to his potential. This insecurity seemed preposterous to Neva and others who knew him, because William's directing career took off almost immediately. He made multiple films for Balboa Studios, five of them starring Neva. But as a business venture,

Balboa was shaky at best, so William made the jump to American Film Company in 1915. Also known as Flying A, this studio was well-established and employed the latest technology, and they just embarked on possibly the most ambitious film project the industry had ever seen. project the industry had ever seen. The Diamond from the Sky was set to be released as a serial, with 30 episodes of two 10-minute reels each. It was not only narratively complex, but full of technical bells and whistles. The director who began the project only got through 10 episodes before he felt out of his depth. He turned to William for help and ultimately turned the whole thing over to him. William completed the Herculean task on schedule and to great critical acclaim. The only thing that shone brighter than William's future

was the two-carat diamond ring Flying A presented him for a job well done. Parrot Diamond Ring Flying A presented him for a job well done. On the heels of his success, William signed on with a new studio. The result of mergers between several prominent studios of the day, the new venture was called Paramount. From 1915 through the end of 1917, William directed 19 movies for Paramount, then the United States entered the fray of World War I. Perhaps sensing the opportunity to redeem his childhood insecurities, William enlisted in the British Army. Beginning in August of 1918 as a private,

Beginning in August of 1918 as a private, 46-year-old William rapidly earned his way up through the ranks. But by the time his company made it to Europe, the war had been over for three weeks, so he never saw combat. Still, they found work for him to do, and William advanced even further. Eventually, he was discharged in the spring of 1919 at the rank of major, the same rank his father once held. And yet, rather than healing old wounds, being back in Europe seemed to reopen them. His father had died almost 20 years earlier, and they never got a chance to properly reconnect. According to Neva, William returned to California in worse spirits than he left, which contributed to their mutual breakup around this time.

As usual, William kept all that private. So to the rest of Hollywood, his return seemed nothing short of triumphant. In May of 1919, the Motion Picture Directors Association, of which William was named president, held a banquet in his honor. Not long after this, William threw himself right back into work. His first project back behind the camera was an adaptation of Anne of Green Gables, featuring Paramount's newest starlet, 17-year-old Mary Miles Minter. Paramount had paid big to sign Mary, who they hoped would be America's new sweetheart. Mary's mother, Charlotte Shelby, was the original momager and got the studio to agree

to an astounding five-year, $1.3 million contract. That would be around $30 million today. To make sure their investment paid off, the studio hitched Mary's wagon to their best director. paid off, the studio hitched Mary's wagon to their best director. The pair made four films together and might have made more if the studio didn't separate them in 1920. Officially, this was because they were both big names and couldn't be expected to share top billing. Unofficially, rumors swirled that Mary was desperately in love with 47-year-old William, and her mother had been raising hell over it. But the Mama Bear Act was less about Mary herself and more about her image. Charlotte had sold Mary as sweet and innocent.

Even a hint of impropriety could cost them millions of dollars. This speed bump did nothing to slow the juggernaut of William's success, and in the spring of 1920, he decided it was time to move out of his bachelor pad and find a home more befitting of his stature. An actor friend of his, Douglas MacLean, recommended Alvarado Court. It was a beautiful complex located in the Westlake Park neighborhood of LA. The eight bungalows were situated in a U, all facing a shared courtyard garden. It was very old Hollywood with its Spanish-style white stucco siding and red tile roofs. As an added bonus, William got the bungalow next to his friend Douglas McLean. Since he was establishing a household, William needed to hire help running things.

Paramount recommended a man named Edward F. Sands as a cook and valet. From what William could tell, Sands was an odd but generally likable guy. For one thing, he faked a Cockney accent. Seeing as how William was actually from the British Isles, it's hard to imagine he didn't notice. But considering how much he'd changed about himself over the years, it didn't really bother him. Unfortunately for William, he didn't press Sands on his odd behavior. Instead, William blindly trusted Sands and gave him unfettered access to his home, belongings, and accounts. He even gave Sands his own bedroom and keys to the house.

And by the time William realized his mistake, it was too late. In the spring of 1920, 47-year-old William Desmond Taylor took advantage of his rising stardom and moved into a trendy bungalow in the heart of Los Angeles. To help him manage things, he hired a man named Edward Sands to be his cook-slash-valet. William completely trusted Sands to handle his affairs, especially when his health took a turn for the worse. In the summer of 1921, William's massive workload and constant anxiety caught up with him. That May, he had surgery to repair an ulcer in his stomach. His doctor insisted that he take

some time away from Hollywood to rest and recover. So William made plans to travel to England the following month. While he was away, a screenwriter friend was going to stay in the Alvarado Court bungalow. Sands was meant to take care of their guest, so William left him with a signed blank check in case of emergencies. It was exactly the opportunity that Sands had been waiting for. Shortly after William left, Sands went to the bank and cashed the check for $5,000. He proceeded to cash more checks for smaller amounts, forging William's signature on those.

The week before William came back, Sands told the guests that he was going on his honeymoon. He'd arranged for someone to cover for him and promised to be back before William. Sands then packed a very large trunk and disappeared. William came home to a very nasty surprise. In addition to the money Sands had drained from his accounts, a large part of his wardrobe and some jewelry were missing, and his car had been totaled. He filed a complaint with the LAPD on August 3, 1921. From there, the only thing left to do was pick up the pieces and move on.

William hired a new houseman, Henry Peavy, got back to work, and that was that. Except that it wasn't. Surprisingly, that wasn't the last William heard from Sands. Sands. Four months later, on Christmas Eve 1921, William received a letter addressed to William C. Dean Tanner. Having had access to all of his papers and correspondence, Sands knew William's real name, though he misspelled it on this note. Along with the letter were a pair of pawn tickets for the diamond cufflinks Sands had stolen, which would allow William to go and buy them back. Unbelievably, the message was an apology for the inconvenience. It was a thoughtful gesture in a twisted sort of way.

The cufflinks in question were a gift from the actress Mabel Normand, who William was rumored to be dating, and now he could at least get those back. It's unclear if he ever got the chance to do that, though. February 1st, 1922 was like any other day in the life of Hollywood director William Desmond Taylor. The 49-year-old ran some errands and attended to business before heading home for the night. Around 7 o'clock that evening, he was just finishing dinner when there was a knock at his door. It was Mabel Normand stopping by at William's request. Reading was a shared passion of theirs, and he'd bought her two new books. They settled in for a chat while William's new butler,

Henry Peavy, made them cocktails. Even though this was the height of prohibition, William had an impressive stash of booze, one of the perks of being a Hollywood big shot. While they waited, Mabel noticed some scattered papers on William's desk. He was still sorting through the fallout of the debacle with his former employee, Edward Sands. Among the papers were several checks, some of which were forged. Finally, Henry came back with their drinks and William dismissed him for the day. William and Mabel enjoyed each other's company for a while longer, talking about more pleasant things like books and work. After about an hour, Mabel said

she needed to get going. She was expected on set early the next day. Ever the gentleman, William walked her all the way to her car, which was parked at the far end of the courtyard. He promised to call her at 9 p.m. to say goodnight, and they blew each other kisses as Mabel's chauffeur drove her away. At around 7.30 the next morning of February 2nd, 1922, the residents of Alvarado Court were only just beginning their days when William's butler, Henry Peavy, burst into the shared courtyard. He was screaming hysterically that William was dead. As the neighbors rushed to their windows to see what the commotion was about,

the manager of the complex, as well as a few other men, hurried over to calm Peavy down and find out what had happened. When they entered the house, they found the esteemed director splayed out on his back in his living room. The place was eerily normal, other than the body in the middle of the floor. Nothing looked amiss about William either, for that matter, aside from a little dried blood at the corners of his mouth. There was no suggestion of foul play, so the crime scene was immediately and irrevocably contaminated. For starters, the manager used William's phone to call the police, leaving his fingerprints all over the receiver.

Foot traffic in and out of the bungalow only picked up as the news spread. Word of William's death made it to Charles Aiton, the general manager of Paramount, who was able to dispatch people to William's bungalow faster than the LAPD. Their mission was to tamper with evidence, not of murder, but of other indecencies that could cause scandal. They removed all the liquor in the house, as well as letters and other personal papers. It didn't matter much what was in them, just that reporters never got their hands on anything even potentially damaging to Williams' reputation, and in turn the studio's. After a half hour of people tromping around and tampering with the scene,

After a half hour of people tromping around and tampering with the scene, Detective Sergeant Thomas Ziegler finally arrived at 8 a.m. He cleared the rooms and started taking statements from the crowd of onlookers. While Ziegler was taking these statements, a man stepped out of the crowd asking to examine the body. He claimed to be a doctor who'd been in the area to see a patient, and apparently that was good enough for him to be given access. Before he could physically move the body, Detective Ziegler stopped him, saying they should really wait for the coroner. Still, when the man declared William's cause of death to be a hemorrhage of the stomach, Ziegler wrote natural causes in his report. It took another 40 minutes for the actual coroner to arrive. Once he did, he conducted a proper examination of William's body.

The coroner quickly discovered that William had not died of natural causes. When he flipped William over, there was a bullet wound in his back. This was officially a murder, and Alvarado Court was a crime scene. But there was almost no physical evidence to collect that day. Any fingerprint evidence they might have gathered was destroyed or useless, and it seems like they didn't bother trying to correct course at any point either, as Charles Aiton from Paramount was inexplicably allowed to assist the coroner in his physical examination of the body. Baton arrived after Ziegler, but before the coroner, and had been allowed to run roughshod over the scene. Though he was neither a doctor nor a law enforcement professional,

his status as a high-level studio executive apparently endowed him with privileges like going wherever he wanted and touching anything he pleased. In William's pockets, they found $78 still in his wallet, a silver cigarette case, and a platinum pocket watch. And he was still wearing the two-carat diamond ring gifted to him by Flying A Studio. still wearing the two-carat diamond ring gifted to him by Flying A Studio. The only indisputable facts to come from the crime scene were that it wasn't a robbery and that William died from a single gunshot wound to the back. It turned out that at least four people heard the gunshot that killed him, Douglas and Faith McLean, their maid and the complex's manager. They were all at the crime scene ready to tell the detective everything. And not only had Faith McLean heard the shot, she was certain she'd come face to face with the murderer.

with the murderer. Thanks so much for listening. I'm Carter Roy and this is Murder True Crime Stories. Come back next week for part two of our series on William Desmond Taylor. Murder True Crime Stories is a Crime House original

powered by Pave Studios. Here at Crime House, we want to thank each and every one of you for your support. If you like what you heard today, reach out on social media at Murder True Crime Pod on Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and YouTube. Don't forget to rate, review, and follow Murder True Crime Stories wherever you get your podcasts. Your feedback truly makes a difference. We'll be back next Tuesday. Murder True Crime Stories, a Crime House original show powered by Pave Studios, is executive produced by Max Cutler. This episode of Murder True Crime Stories was sound designed by Ron Shapiro, written by Megan Hannum, edited by Alex Benidon, fact-checked by Claire Cronin,

and included production assistance from Kristen Acevedo and Sarah Carroll. Murder True Crime Stories is hosted by Carter Roy. You may know a serial killer's crimes. Now, uncover the psychology behind them. Mind of a Serial Killer is a Crime House original. New episodes drop every Monday. Just search Mind of a Serial Killer and follow wherever you listen to podcasts. Where we go deep into notorious true crime cases.

With significant research and careful analysis, we examine the psyche of a killer, their motives and targets, and law enforcement's pursuit to stop their spree. Follow Serial Killers wherever you get your podcasts and get new episodes every Monday.