The Running Gun Battle

Los Angeles in 1930 was a society gone wrong. The Great Depression was in full swing, putting a death grip on the entire country. Many Americans depended on the government to feed them, and long bread lines weaved their way through the streets of the nation. The Dust Bowl winds blew many to California and into Los Angeles. With unemployment rates at 20 percent, businesses closing and no work to be found, many turned to crime. However, some, such as Joe Luby, had been career criminals even during the good times. The ex-con was wanted in Detroit for a double homicide committed during a robbery. Avoiding the law in Michigan, Luby was in LA checking out banks—his specialty.

Near the intersection of Hollywood Boulevard. and Normandie Avenue, was the Security-First National Trust and Savings Bank. During the 1930s, it was the practice for banks to close for an hour at lunch. Security-First was no exception. The bank manager, Mr. W.H. Garland, and four tellers were just getting ready to enjoy a peaceful lunch—or so they thought, when Luby, aware of bank practices, walked in. The harden criminal “coolly” approached Mr. Garland, pulled a revolver and demanded cash. With the gun pointed at his chest, Garland walked over to the teller cash drawer and nervously fumbled to pull out $500 in bills ($4,400 in today’s money). With the cash lining his pockets, Luby slowly backed out of the bank with his gun swinging back and forth keeping everyone in their seats. As he reached the door he whirled and jumped into his car. Garland quickly sounded the bank siren.


Hollywood Boulevard, circa 1930s

Sitting in his personal car not more than 100 feet from the bank was Los Angeles Police Sgt. A.A. Campbell. Looking up when he heard the deafening siren of the bank, he saw a man run out and jump into a roadster. Campbell quickly grabbed his revolver and ran directly toward the man as he got into his stolen car. As Campbell approached, the suspect fired several rounds, which the sergeant would later recall “went screaming past his head.” Campbell fired three quick shots back at Luby, who slumped forward in his seat. Campbell was confident he’d got him. But no sooner had this thought appeared than Luby jammed the car into gear and roared off.

Sergeant Z.Y. Gruey happened by in his car at the exact time that Luby took off. Campbell jumped into Gruey’s car, and they squealed off after Luby. The two sergeants followed Luby north on Normandie and then east on Franklin but soon lost him in traffic. As they searched for Luby, Gruey pulled up to a call box and let Hollywood station know what was going on. According to Campbell, “Then we picked up Officer E.G. Brown and thinking the suspect had driven toward the hills, we drove north on Catalina street.”

Traveling just a short distance, the trio of LAPD officers caught sight of Luby driving just in front of them. As they were catching up to him, the armed robber slammed on his brakes and jumped out of his car, tumbling down the side of a bushy ravine. Campbell picks up the story: “Just before he vanished over the brow of the hill, he whirled about and fired several times. Both Brown and myself answered the fire.”

The three officers went in foot pursuit. The men could hear the suspect crashing through the thick brush, and as if in some arcade game, they shot at Luby every time he reached a clearing. As the suspect reached the bottom of the gully, Campbell and Gruey ran back to the car, believing they could drive down, and around, and head Luby off from the far side of the ravine. They left Brown behind to put pressure on the suspect. As they drove off, they heard more shots being exchanged. As the two officers glanced over their shoulders, they saw Luby duck behind a house.

A few minutes later, Luby was driving off in a small truck that he had stolen at gunpoint from a local Japanese gardener. The suspect headed to Vermont Avenue. Meanwhile, the two sergeants had reached the bottom of the hill and were driving along Los Feliz Boulevard when they spotted their man “careening down” Vermont. Reaching the intersection of Vermont and Los Feliz, the suspect smashed into a parked truck. Campbell said, “We drove up alongside, and I held my gun on him. He cried out: ‘I give up. Don’t shoot. I quit.’ But as I was within a few feet of his car, he suddenly pointed his gun directly at me. Before he could pull the trigger, I let him have it.” This time when Luby slumped over; it was for real, he was dead.

Luby’s rap sheet was long and violent. In 1920 he had been arrested by LAPD for robbery, which was reduced to vagrancy. In 1921 he was sent from Chicago to the Illinois Reformatory for 10 years to life. In 1926 he was arrested in Chicago for grand larceny. In 1929 he was arrested again in Chicago for robbery. Bail was set at $7,500, which Luby jumped. In February of 1930, Detroit police announced a reward of $500 for Luby’s capture on the charge of the murders of two special agents of the Western Union Telegraph Company during a robbery at which time he also wounded a Detroit policeman.

Two weeks after the bank robbery, the three brave officers received checks for $500 as a donation from the Security-First Bank. Assistant Chief of Police Finlinson proudly presented the checks in a ceremony given for the officers “for their valor in chasing and slaying a bank bandit at the climax of a spectacular running gun battle.”

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Cold Case Homicide: Officer Fred Early


Officer Fred Early

This one is personal. As a young rookie police officer, just out of the academy, I worked West Los Angeles (WLA) division of the LAPD, on the same watch as Fred Early. Although we never worked together, we were on a lot of the same calls. I had heard of his reputation as a solid cop who had been in several “good” shootings in the South end of the city where several suspects were killed. Perhaps that is why he was transferred to one of the less active areas, WLA, which borders Beverly Hills.

I learned much from Early, just watching how he handled “hot” calls with the utmost professionalism, but primarily observing his officer survival skills. You knew if Early was on your call, you never had to look over your shoulder—he had your “6.” His nickname was “Crazy Fred,” and he lived up to that moniker. I recall one night after work, Early dangerously climbed a six-story tower next to the station and waved to us disbelievers down below—that was Early. After his death, many of us began calling each other “Fred” as a gesture of what he meant to us. I even named my dog after him. So how could an officer who survived so much be taken down by some burglary suspects while off duty? That is the story.

On Saturday, September 9, 1972, at 4:30 in the morning, Policeman Fred Early of the Los Angeles Police Department was on his way home after spending time with some friends. He was off duty, driving his personal vehicle near the northwest corner of National and Sawtelle boulevards, just off the 405 Freeway. Always attuned to his surroundings, no matter whether he was at work, Early observed a possible burglary suspect acting suspiciously near the closed Thrifty Drug Store.

Stopping his vehicle, he watched the suspect for several minutes. Believing this was indeed a burglary going down, he circled and parked his car at a service station at the southwest corner of the intersection to better keep the man under surveillance.

In an era with no cell phones, Early left his vehicle and went to a pay phone to request assistance. As he was talking to the operator, the suspect spooked and ran. At 4:30 in the morning, the city is just beginning to stir, and there would have been very few cars moving. It appears the suspect realized this and, seeing Early’s car stop, started running southbound across National. Early dropped the phone receiver in mid-sentence and pursued the fleeing suspect. He chased him west to an extremely dark parking lot at the rear of 11316 National Blvd. As he reached the parking lot, he was attacked from behind by one or more additional suspects and was shot twice through the left leg. The assailants beat Early, kicking him in the head and body until he lost consciousness. Leaving him for dead, the suspects escaped.

When he came to, he fired his revolver into a block wall to summon help. For the next several months, Early was in and out of the hospital for treatment of his numerous wounds. He suffered from blackouts and severe headaches. While undergoing treatment at UCLA Medical Center, he sustained irreversible brain damage and never recovered. He died from his injuries six months after the shooting. He was just 31.

Just after his murder, then-Governor Ronald Reagan took the unprecedented step of offering $10,000 in state money to find the men who had shot and beaten Early. Twenty-five years later, in 1998, city officials met to consider offering additional rewards. The Police Protective League, which had offered $10,000 in 1973, once again offered that money. The Los Angeles City Council offered an additional $25,000 for information leading to the arrest of the suspects. It was a positive move to crack the case, but no suspects have been arrested, and the case remains unsolved.

During his short life, Early often talked about his love for his four girls. At the time of his death, the kids were between the ages of 5 and 12. A quarter of a century after his murder, the four attended a ceremony to honor their father with LAPD’s highest measure of bravery, the police Medal of Valor. A tearful Michelle Bonnee, Early’s youngest daughter, said at a news conference “I have the burden of looking into my own 5-year-old daughter’s eyes and trying to answer the questions she has of her grandfather—a man I remember well but barely knew and whom she will never know.”

“We have nothing to lose is the way we feel about it,” Hollie Ashworth, one of Early’s daughters, said of the new round of rewards. “Not that [an arrest] would ever make up for my father. But there would be justice in finding the person who did this and some closure for the family. That’s the hardest part, knowing there is somebody out there that got away with this at the expense of four little girls.”

LAPD detective Roseanne Parino (now retired) summed up why the hunt must continue for the perpetrators of Early’s murder and all the suspects out there who have gotten away with the murder of a police officer. “People become more mature, have more of a sense of mortality. I think just the time and distance from the act may bring people out who at the time were reticent, for whatever reasons, to speak.” To give peace to Early and all the other victims of the hundreds of unsolved police murders, we can only hope and pray this happens often.

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Band of Brothers: LAPD Officers’ Shootout against Four Bank Robbers in 1920s Los Angeles

Aug. 22, 1925: Oscar Bayer (sitting on right) next to Bertrand M. Steventon. Standing left to right are Claude R. Weaver, Charles Meyers and Jack A. Stambler. All photographs courtesy of the Los Angeles Times.

Aug. 22, 1925: Oscar Bayer (sitting on right) next to Bertrand M. Steventon. Standing left to right are Claude R. Weaver, Charles Meyers and Jack A. Stambler. All photographs courtesy of the Los Angeles Times.

As a photographic historian, I am naturally drawn to old photographs. I marvel how a moment in time is frozen for eternity allowing later generations a peek back into a split second of history. When I first saw the portrait taken by a newspaper photographer of five Los Angeles police officers posing in a hospital, I was captivated and had to know: Why this picture?

My first observations were the differing facial expressions and how the officers are affectionately touching one another, like they are all part of the same family—brothers. It suggests what any LAPD cop comes to experience—that you are all brothers and sisters—which translates that you will do whatever humanely possible to ensure the safety for your partner as you all share that same bond of danger that penetrates each day you pin on your badge and take to the streets. So I wonder, why this photo, this moment in time? I would come to learn that the story begins and ends with the man sitting on the right, a sling tied around his shoulder, his uniform in disarray, as he gazes into the lens of the camera—Motorcycle Officer Oscar Bayer.

Motorcycle Officer Oscar Bayer

Motorcycle Officer Oscar Bayer

A veteran of the Great World War, Bayer understood combat, having been wounded by an exploding bomb. He was a man who thrived by pushing the envelope. At the age of 23, Bayer joined the LAPD and two years later was in motors. The likable Bayer made headlines several times, including after a shooting with a burglary suspect he was attempting to take into custody. But it was the summer of 1925 that a young Bayer nearly lost his life while in pursuit of bank robbers in which one suspect and an LAPD police officer were killed. Four others were wounded after several hundred bullets were fired. The LA Times called it the “city’s most spectacular gun battle” ever.It was 10 a.m. on Saturday, August 22, 1925, when four hardcore criminals led by an ex-con bank hold-up man from Chicago, robbed the Hellman Bank in downtown Los Angeles at Ninth and Santa Fe Avenue. The suspects, all heavily armed with shotguns, revolvers and semi-automatic pistols entered the bank and ordered everyone to the floor before jumping on the counters and riffling through all the tellers’ drawers, taking more than $19,000.
While the robbery was occurring, a few blocks away, Motorcycle Officer Bayer was at Eighth and Santa Fe Avenue when his attention was suddenly drawn to a racing vehicle being chased by another car. As the two autos roared by, Bayer heard the driver from the second car scream, “Hold-up—stop them.” In the next few moments, Officer Oscar Bayer would display heroism seldom repeated in the annals of LAPD history.Gunning his motorcycle, Bayer was immediately in pursuit. At this time there were no radios, no help on the way—only phone calls from panicked citizens as the pursuit dangerously tore through downtown. As Bayer pursued the suspects, two of the robbers smashed out the rear window of their stolen car and immediately opened fire on Bayer, who heard the bullets as they whizzed by his head. Unfazed, he sped-up after the gangsters—“I was mad clean through.…I wanted those birds.” The suspects were struggling to lose the LAPD motor officer while making several sharp turns. They turned north on Alameda to Seventh Street heading west to Central. At the intersection of

Traffic Officer Wylie E. Smith. Killed in the shootout.

Traffic Officer Wylie E. Smith. Killed in the shootout.

Alameda and Seventh, Traffic Officer Wylie E. Smith was just taking over traffic duties from Officer George P. Moore when they heard the gunfire and saw Bayer in pursuit. The bank robbers had to slow down due to traffic and, as consequence, Smith and Moore opened fire at the occupants of the vehicle. Seeing this, the suspects directed their fire on the two exposed traffic officers. Officer Moore had his hat shot off just as Officer Smith was shot in the chest. Smith would die from his wound the next day.

Traffic Officer Jack A. Stambler

Traffic Officer Jack A. Stambler

As the suspect’s vehicle continued, other LAPD traffic officers became involved. Traffic Officer Jack A. Stambler observing the trouble Bayer was in, quickly commandeered a small auto and ordered the disbelieving driver to follow the pursuit. Standing on the running board, Stambler joined in the gun battle firing at the fleeing suspects. But Stambler soon came to realize, the car he seized was no match for the fast touring car of the bank robbers. So he ordered the civilian driver to stop and springing from the auto, Stambler spotted a faster car and once again took a position on the running board of the frightened driver who was ordered to join the pursuit.

Traffic Officer Bertrand M. Steventon

Traffic Officer Bertrand M. Steventon

Traffic Officer Bertrand M. Steventon noticing Officer Stambler commandeer another car took over the small vehicle and once again the driver was ordered to pursue the bandits. As the three officers thundered through the streets, bullets were flying. People on the streets were diving for cover, store windows were being shot out, other cars were being struck, but the determined LAPD officers would not give up.The unwavering Bayer, leading the chase, would not be deterred. As he pursed the suspects down Seventh Street, a bullet struck him in his right breast nearly knocking him from his motor. Fortunately, much of the impact was stopped by his traffic citation book. Dazed, Bayer shook his head to keep conscious. In quick succession Bayer was again struck by a fuselage of bullets, one going through his sleeve and another round hit just below his hip. He would later comment just how much the wounds “stung.” Bayer did not dwell on his injuries, he just became more enraged. With his gun empty, Bayer did the unbelievable. While still receiving fire he somehow managed to reload his revolver while speeding after the criminals. Squealing to a halt at Seventh and San Pedro due to traffic, two of the bank robbers jumped from the touring car, while two others ran from the scene. Traffic Officer Claude R. Weaver hearing

Traffic Officer Claude R. Weaver

Traffic Officer Claude R. Weaver

the deafening gun fire at his intersection, opened fire on the suspects. Meanwhile, Motor Officer Bayer observed that each suspect was armed with guns in each hand as they were determined to rid themselves of this troublesome motor cop. With bullets flying, Bayer took careful aim and killed the leader of the gang. With only one bullet left in his gun, Bayer took cover behind another vehicle and fired at the second suspect striking him in the arm. Bayer’s gun was empty but the suspect was preparing to fire again.Taking a calculated risk, Bayer pointed his empty revolver at the wounded suspect and yelled, “If you don’t surrender, I will kill you.” The ruthless suspect looking into the determined face of a man who refused to quit, his uniform covered in blood, gave up and surrendered.A block away Officer Steventon was in foot pursuit of one of the two suspects who had fled the scene as their getaway car was stuck in traffic. As Steventon ran after him, the fleeing suspect turned and fired several rounds at Steventon, who returned fire until he ran out of ammo. The suspect managed to get away after he carjacked a vehicle at gunpoint. Sometime later both suspects were apprehended in different parts of the country.

Motor Officer Bayer would quickly recover from his wounds and eventually was promoted to Detective-Lieutenant. Officer’s Oscar Bayer and Wylie Smith were awarded the Medal of Valor for their involvement in the Hillman Bank robbery incident. Sadly, in his eighth year on the department, Oscar Bayer was killed off-duty, piloting a civilian aircraft, as he was preparing himself to become part of the rumored LAPD aero-bureau. He left behind a wife and four young children.

So it was from a single photograph, taken just after the shooting, that this story was discovered chronicling the type of individuals who wore the badge of a Los Angeles Police Officer during the 1920s. Today, their brother and sister officers are faced with new challenges and yes, some of the old ones. But one can take comfort knowing the sacrifices that were suffered in Bayer’s era help shape the officers of today and make LAPD a leader in law enforcement across the Nation. As this chronicle attests, the men and women of LAPD are all brothers and sisters—insuperable in protecting one another and the citizens of Los Angeles.