The Earliest Badge of the Los Angeles Police Department

Many years ago I came across a very early photograph of a uniformed Los Angeles police officer, standing proudly alongside his family. At first glance, it appears he is wearing the “Series One” badge that was first issued in 1876. But with closer examination, the unidentified officer is wearing a badge that has seven points as compared to Series One badge which has eight points. Why is this important you ask; because there is

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A. C. Golsh cabinet card of an unidentified LAPD officer wearing the “1869” style badge and military uniform. Circa 1875-1876.

no official record of LAPD officers wearing a metal badge prior to 1876. Accordingly, this photograph is an extremely rare record of the earliest known badge worn by and LAPD officer.

In 1869, Los Angeles was being overrun by gangs, prostitution, gamblers, murderers and plain drunks. As one visitor stated, “The name of this city is in Spanish, the city of Angels, but with much more truth might it be called at present the city of Demons. While I have been here in Los Angeles only two weeks, there have been eleven deaths and only one of them a natural”

To combat these undesirables, the city council sought full-time police protection. This was a decisive moment in Los Angeles history as this allowed the establishment of a city police department. To lead the new department, the council hired William C. Warren who was the town marshal and gave him the added title of chief of police. (Warren was gunned down by one of his officers involving a dispute over reward money one year later.) The police department consisting of six officers were not paid a salary but were compensated with a commission for the collection of fees by serving writs, for arrests, and for returning stolen property.

With a budget of just $75 to furnish his office and pay rent, there is no record of any funds being allotted for uniforms or badges. So what is this officer in the photograph wearing? That mystery first began to be solved with the help of Policewomen Alice Stebbins Wells who most agree is American’s first paid policewomen. Wells served on the LAPD from 1910 until 1940 and died in 1957. In her later years of service, she was the department’s official historian. Years later, another figure entered the discussion, when retired Commander Keith Bushey was fortunate enough to steward a number of police badges from the estate of Wells. It was Bushey who saw the historical importance of the non-descript badge many others at first thought insignificant.

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The “1869” style badge. Photo courteous of Keith Bushey.

Bushey determined through his expertise as the predominant collector and historian on badges that this “City Police – 1869” was skillfully hand cut and fit the standard for metal badges worn during this era. The seven point star was used by police departments across the nation including cities in California such as San Diego, San Francisco and Sacramento. It only stands to reason, LAPD officers also wore some type of metal badge.

Bushey believes that a number of different types of badges were worn during this period from 1869 and the establishment of LAPD as a paid and uniformed department in 1876. Some were individually made such as this 1869 badge while others could have been ordered through the mail which were merely generic and had “POLICE” stamped on them.

There would have been little standardization on the fledgling department as officers were required to purchase their own equipment, uniform, and sidearm. Consequently, officers equipped themselves as best they could and with what they could afford. The fact that the 1869 badge has a “2” would suggest that there was also a number “1” badge. The “1869” on the badge is significant. It was a time in Los Angeles that the formation of a police department would have been the talk of the town. Going from volunteers attempting to enforce the law to a force of six armed officers and a chief of police, would have been something to document, in this case, inscribing the “1869” as the centerpiece of the badge.

As Bushey quantified: “In the case of this [1869] badge, the evidence is very compelling that this badge was used prior to the standardization of the uniform in 1876, and may in fact be representative of a Los Angeles Police badge design that had not been previously acknowledged.” I would agree. In doing my research for Guardians of Angels: A History of the Los Angeles Police Department, I found no documentation of the “1869” badge until I located the rare photograph of the LAPD officer wearing just such a badge. In conjunction with Bushey’s research, his acquisition of the “1869” badge, the likely history of the department’s first badge comes to light. It is an important discovery as it pre-dates the Series One badge of 1876 that historians steadfastly attribute as the first metal badge worn by members of the LAPD.

To bolster this argument, it is important to qualify the cabinet card photograph as a LAPD

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Officer Frank Lemon wearing the regulation uniform and Series One badge. Photo by Golsh. Circa 1879.

officer. The image was taken by A. C. Golsh, an immigrant from Prussia. Golsh settled down in Los Angeles and established a photographic business in heart of Los Angeles at 411 Main Street across the street from the now famous Pico House. The cabinet card style was first introduced in 1866 and had its peak in the United States from 1875 to 1895. Golsh was active in Los Angeles from approximately 1870 to 1893. Photographing policemen was not new to Golsh as evidenced by an outstanding cabinet card of Officer Frank Lemon with a detailed view of the Series One badge. Based on the style of the image and other factors noted, I would date the image circa 1875-1876. At this time there were 12 officers on the LAPD.

The uniform the officer is wearing is most likely military that he either wore during the Civil War or bought from a military surplus dealer. Note his series “1869” styled seven point badge on his jacket. Collectively taken with Bushey’s research, his seven point badge, in conjunction with the photograph of this LAPD officer wearing the early badge, we have the best evidence to date of the transformation of the Los Angeles Police Department from 1869 until 1876. It allows a rare peak into what at least one officer choose to wear until standardization of equipment took place in 1876. Please contact me with your comments and thoughts, I would enjoy hearing from you-jabultema@lapdhistory.com.

 

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Lest We Forget: The Forgotten On-Duty Death of an LAPD Officer

At one time there stood a monument in front of the old Parker Center dedicated to all Los Angeles Police Officers who have made the ultimate sacrifice. It is a timeless granite tribute to the men and women who have given their lives in the line of duty.  In May of 2014, the LAPD, working with city officials, erected street signs to honor the memories of each officer killed in the line of duty. Currently, 206 personalized signs denote the areas where each officer was killed. Unfortunately, one was missed.

In doing research for my new book, The Protectors: A Photographic History of Police Departments in the United States, I came across the annual report from the LAPD to the mayor, dated from 1917. Inside, toward the back of the thick book, was a section labeled: “Killed on Duty.” Under the headline were five names, one of which was that of Officer C. H. Crow. It reads:

Officer Charles "Pat" Crow

Officer Charles “Pat” Crow

“June 17, 1916, Patrolman Crow, detailed to duty in the Detective Bureau, in the investigation of a felony case, followed the suspects into a desert portion of Imperial County. Without water, and in the intense heat he suffered a sunstroke, but followed his man and arrested him. The following day he died.”

This information led me to one of the newspapers of the day, were I found one small article. The headline read: “Officer Follows Duties to Grave.” Just a week earlier, there had been a felony theft of $1,000 (which today would be about $21,000) worth of clothing from the store of Mr. Morris Cohen. Led by information provided by Mr. Cohen, Patrolman Crow and his partner, R. L. Shy, were told that there were two suspects who had fled to San Diego. Without delay, the two officers departed. Arriving in San Diego, the patrolmen, who were on loan to detectives, and Mr. Cohen were told that the two suspects were in Calexico, a very remote city located at the Mexican border in the Imperial Valley Desert, 90 miles east of San Diego.

With temperatures well over 100 degrees and, according to the newspaper, reaching 135 degrees, the trio set off for Calexico. One must realize that in 1916 the roads were predominantly dirt, with no civilization or amenities along the route. By the time they reached Calexico, Mr. Cohen was near collapse and was immediately sent back home. Patrolman Crow was also extremely ill from the sun but insisted to his partner that they should not give up. They continued their pursuit without water or provisions.

After receiving information that the suspects had fled to Mexicali, Mexico, but “were hovering” between the two cities, the officers staked out the border area. With temperatures again soaring, the two officers, ill-prepared for the extremes of the desert, suffered stifling heat but would not give up. Their patience paid off when the two suspects were seen crossing the border back into the United States and were promptly taken into custody.

Less than an hour after the arrest, and with the suspects safely put away, Patrolman Crow collapsed. His partner quickly drove him to the hospital in Calexico. When word reached the LAPD, Assistant Chief Home telegraphed that “no expense should be spared in fighting for the officer’s life.” But, according to the physicians, there was little hope of his surviving even a few hours. Officer Crow died a short time later from exposure to the elements.

The funeral service took place at Christ’s Episcopal Church and was attended by hundreds of friends. All the men who knew Patrolman Crow were granted time off to attend. As the police band played “the requiem,” attention was drawn to the back section of the church, where a disheveled man could be heard sobbing. It was later discovered that inebriated man was Danny O’Lalley, who adored “Pat” Crow (as he was known).

Until five years before, O’Lalley was a drunkard. Danny would work three days and then spend all his earnings at a bar. Then one night he had a run-in with Patrolman Crow, who was working a foot beat in the area. Crow took the inebriated man aside and explained how he could change his life around. Danny never forgot that “sermon,” and that night promptly turned over $47 he had in his pockets for safe keeping, but mostly so he would not squander it in bars.

The following night when again Patrolman Crow spotted O’Lalley, he was surprised to see him sober. Feeling encouraged, Crow returned the money to Danny, who proclaimed Crow was his best friend. From that point on, whenever Danny had the urge to spend his money at the bars, he would track down Crow and turn over most of his money for safekeeping. He told Pat that he wanted his friend to think he was a “proper” man. O’Lalley became a changed person.

Years later when he heard of the death of his dearest friend, Danny O’Lalley was at the church. Talking to no one in particular, Danny proclaimed, “Pat would let me get drunk when I felt so bad, so I took what I wanted.” As he quietly cried in the back of the church, he muttered, “I don’t think Pat would care if I got a little overdone today. He knew me and kept me straight for five years.”

That is the type of man Patrolman Charles “Pat” Crow was. He lived his life helping those in need and, when chasing down two wanted felons, knowing he was in deep trouble from the heat, pushed through and arrested the thieves. Perhaps Pat can better rest knowing the LAPD family never forgets a brother or sister officer killed in the line of duty. Rest in peace, Officer Crow. You are missed but not forgotten.

Postscript: At the time of this writing, the Department is doing its due-diligence to determine if Patrolman Crow’s name should be listed to the Officers Killed in the Line of Duty records. I for one believe without a doubt he should be. Why he was not listed in his time, no one knows. If you have any feelings on this subject, please let me know and I will pass it along to the Department: jabultema@lapdhistory.com.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guardians of Angels: 2014 in review

The WordPress.com stats experts prepared a 2014 annual report for Guardians of Angels: A History of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Here’s an excerpt:

A New York City subway train holds 1,200 people. This blog was viewed about 3,800 times in 2014. If it were a NYC subway train, it would take about 3 trips to carry that many people. Thank you all for showing an interest in the history of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Click here to see the complete report.

What’s in a Picture: 1938 LAPD Shootout

As many of you are familiar with my current book, Guardians of Angels: A History of the Los Angeles Police Department, one can see my historical interest in vintage photographs. For me, they all have a story to tell. As I am currently doing research for my next book, The Protectors: A Photographic History of Local Law Enforcement in the United States, I discovered an amazing photograph of an LAPD shooting in progress captured by photographer Scott Harrison of the Los Angeles Times in 1938. Photographs such as these are extremely rare during this period in law enforcement history.

This amazing image captures a moment in the midst of a standoff between Los Angeles Police and a barricaded suspect, George Farley.

This amazing image captures a moment in the midst of a standoff between Los Angeles Police and a barricaded suspect, George Farley.

The stand-off that is depicted so distinctly in the photograph began on a clear sunny winter day, Thursday, February 17, 1938, when Marshals T. Dwight Crittenden and Leon W. Romer, both 60, were at George Farley’s residence at 1516 E. 22rd Street to serve an eviction order for $67.50 for back rent. Farley, a 55-year-old day laborer, knew they were coming, as just the prior day he received a 24-hour notice to vacate the small-framed residence. But Farley had no plans to voluntarily leave his rented home—and armed with a high-powered rifle, he lay in wait. His wife, sensing trouble, fled the scene.

As the two unsuspecting marshals arrived, there was no indication that Farley was at home. Both men entered the house and started to pack up his effects. At the same time, an 18-year-old witness was standing across the street with his father, who had traveled to the location to watch his friends evict Farley. Then, accordingly to the teenager: “Suddenly there was a shot, and Mr. Romer came staggering down the steps. He sort of twisted and fell, sprawling on the lawn. He lay very still.” Marshal Romer had been shot through the chest and died almost instantly as he collapsed on the front lawn. In the photograph, he can be seen near the walkway in front of the home.

Seeing his partner violently shot, Marshal Crittenden ran from the residence, making it as far as the middle of the street before Farley shot him through the head. His body lay in the street during the subsequent events as depicted in the photograph. Calls quickly poured into communications division. Meanwhile, Farley calmly took a seat in a room near the front door with his rifle across his lap. He waited patiently for the reinforcements he knew were coming—he wasn’t leaving.

Answering the shots-fired radio call were Detective Lieutenants Robert Underwood and Elliott (no first name listed), who were the first to arrive at the location. As Underwood took cover behind the ambulance directly across the street from the house, he yelled for the suspect to come out and surrender. No sooner was the command given than Farley rushed to the front porch and yelled: “Here I is. Come an’ get me,” and fired at the officers, who promptly returned fire, hitting the suspect through his thigh as he was ducking back into the house.

As reinforcments arrived from Newton Street Station, Farley barricaded himself in the house. As Farley fired back, officers took up position around the house, hiding behind trees, cars and the wall of a nearby residence. For the next hour, officers fired volley after volley into the tiny home, blowing out windows and splintering the thin walls. Tear gas was called in and fired into the residence, as can be seen clearly in the photograph.

When the gunfire ceased, several officers broke into the house to find Farley slumped on his face in a rear room, shot five times in his thighs, arm and chest. Farley survived his wounds and was sentenced to 10 to 20 years in San Quentin for two counts of manslaughter. (I was unable to ascertain what happened to Farley after being sentenced.) Through this one frame of film, we get a peek back at 1938 LAPD and the sad circumstances of that bloody Thursday. Lest we never forget the sacrifices of Marshals T. Dwight Crittenden and Leon W. Romer.

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.

 

 

What’s In a Picture: The Entire Los Angeles Police Department 1904

This particular photograph of the entire Los Angeles Police Department, taken circa 1904, has continually been mistakenly marked as being snapped in 1890. To photo historians, this 14-year error is important to correct. The image was taken at the entry to the newly constructed Los Angeles County Courthouse at Broadway and Temple Street. The building was completed 1891.

The entire Los Angeles Police Department in 1904

The entire Los Angeles Police Department in 1904

If one was to accept the date of 1890, then I would argue, where is Chief John Glass (1889-1899), who was never absent from any LAPD group photograph during his tenure. No one in the photograph has the stars of the chief of police displayed on their uniform. They all wear the series two badge that was worn from 1890 to 1909.

Those present for this official portrait of the LAPD lends itself to identifying the year of the image. Standing at attention, with his trademark long, drooping mustache, is Walter Auble (front row on left), who was chief of police from 1905 to 1906—a year after this photo was taken. The chief of police in 1904 was William Hammell. Why he would not be present for this significant image is not known, but he is nowhere to be found.
The two ladies present give substance to the date of 1904. The diminutive Lucy Gray and her daughter Aletha Gilbert (1902-1929) are given the prominent position of being framed by Auble and the Detective Bureau. Matron Gray died in March of 1904, eliminating the date of 1905 when Auble was chief.

Chief Walter Auble would serve one year as chief and would later be gunned down by a burglary suspect. Lucy Gray died of pneumonia shortly after this photo was taken. Aletha Gilbert became LA’s first “City Mother” and served the LAPD until her retirement in 1929. The iconic Los Angeles County Courthouse was torn down in 1932.