Trash Talker

I've included the bulk of my research in the book manuscript with the goal of making it thorough and complete. However, a few things popped up that I chose not to include. The most notable of these deliberate omissions is Mr. John E. Bleekman, or as I call him, the Trash Talker.

In the New York Time article published August 6, 1917, "Mrs. de Saulles Tells Her Story of the Tragedy," there is mention of John E. Bleekman visiting Blanca in jail the previous day. Let's pause and think about that. One day after seeing the headlines in the newspapers, this guy Bleekman hot-tails it over to the Nassau County Jail and spouts off to the reporters, "...he could prove that de Saulles had boasted in 1911 that he was going to marry a woman for her great wealth and that he borrowed the money with which to go to Paris to marry her. Further allegations by Mr. Bleekman went considerably beyond anything said by Mrs. de Saulles against the dead man."  If there were t.v. back then, he'd be on camera.

Months later, John Bleekman was NOT called to testify at the murder trial. From what I can tell, his hearsay, gossipy trash talk never entered into the record, and he pretty much faded away. Say what you will about Blanca's defense attorney's scruples, but as a lawyer Henry Uterhart was methodical and thorough. The fact he did not use Bleekman says to me that Bleekman's trash talk could not be corroborated.

So, who is this guy?

Not wasting too much time, I found that Bleekman was a business partner of Archibald S. White. The two men, among other projects, started the groundwork on the Cincinnati Railway Terminal that eventually would be the third largest train station in the U.S. (at the time). So, one possibility is that Jack de Saulles owed Bleekman money or they were business rivals.

Archibald S. White's name popped up in my research once before, in personal correspondence between Jack and a confidante of President Woodrow Wilson. In those letters, Jack made a recommendation on behalf of A. S. White for a post in the president's cabinet, because White had contributed financially to the campaign efforts. I don't know if White ever "made it" to Wilson's cabinet, and I don't feel inclined to dig into it much further. The bottom line is, White was a rich and powerful railroad builder, a lesser known J.P. Morgan type of guy, and it looks like he (and his partner Bleekman) had their hooks in Jack. Whatever back room deals they had were done behind closed doors, and as the saying goes, dead men tell no tales.

The Box

The home on Long Island, where Jack de Saulles lived after he divorced Blanca and the scene of the shooting, was colloquially known as "The Box."  I have been trying like the dickens to find its location.

First problem, the spacious countryside did not have streets and most of the grand estates of the reclusive millionaires did not need street addresses. If you're a chauffeur or a butler or a gardener, you simply know the way up the winding country lane to the J.P. Morgan Estate or the MacKay Estate. By extension, most of the lesser millionaires followed the trend and gave names to their homes - not addresses.

Second, I am on the West Coast and cannot drop by the local county courthouse, library, university, and historical society where property records (not digitized) are kept. I could hire a researcher - and someday still might - to dig it up for me. I saw one advertising their services on a website, where they'll go beyond public records if they must and search vintage real estate listings and magazines.

What I've been able to find out (from 3,000 miles away) is this:

Old newspapers say that "The Box" was previously owned by Emily Ladenburg, who by the way, was a very cool gal. She was a millionaire's widow and instead of wearing black and crying behind lace curtains, she got out there and had a grand ol' time! She was one of the premier cross country riders, and broke fuddy duddy tradition by refusing to use a side saddle. She went on fox hunts.

Jack bought it shortly before he was killed. He went into debt renovating the place to his own style, and built a playground for his 4 year old son - complete with a see-saw, swings, and a slide. After his death, the mortgage went into default and the bank tried to collect from Blanca (even though they were divorced) - yeah, like she was going to pay a penny for it?  A year later, the property went on the auction block and sold to Thomas Bowles of Kiowa, Kansas for $19,348. Again, this is from an old newspaper clipping.

However, I found a blog http://www.oldlongisland.com/2011/07/box.html that posted a real estate ad from a 1917 copy of Country Life magazine, where it calls The Box "A Bachelor's Country Home" for sale by Harvey Smith Ladew. The blog plots the location on Wikimapia as somewhere in Brookville, NY.

Thanks to Google Books, I found a digital copy of The Social Register from December 1914 that further confuses things. It lists Emily Ladenburg's home as "The Oasis" in Westbury, and Harvey Ladew's home is "The Box" in Brookville. Two different places.

Further confusing things is the tendency for things to get moved around, rebuilt, renovated, and renamed. The Meadow Brook Country Club, where Jack de Saulles tried to transfer his football and baseball skills to polo, closed down and then was resurrected.... in a different place.  There's a town of Westbury... and Old Westbury which is nearer to Brookville. The Long Island Expressway (highway 495) covered up a lot.

Ultimately, for now all I have are the blurry newspaper photos from the sensational stories of the murder. The paparazzi swarmed around the place and took a bunch of snapshots. The District Attorney's office also had a professional photographer take shots of the crime scene, inside and outside, that were presented in court. Unfortunately, a fire in 1981 destroyed all of the Mineola court records and the original transcripts are lost.

A Modern Day Blanca de Saulles

This just happened. In Jupiter, Florida a woman named Donna Horwitz is under arrest for shooting and killing her ex-husband in their upscale home with a Smith & Wesson revolver. The victim was an attorney registered to practice in New York, Florida, Michigan, and D.C. and he was a licensed real estate broker. Although they were divorced, Donna had moved back in.... perhaps to be with their son? Apparently Mr. Horwitz cheated on her and was packed for a business trip planning to go away with a female business partner. He had told Donna to move out before he would return from the trip. Her quote for the newspapers, reporting later on her bail hearing at Palm Beach County Jail, has her saying, “He was so awful.” Except for the fact that they are in their 60s and their son is 37, the parallels are creepy!

Here is a blatant cut-and-paste from the CBS12.com new website.

JUPITER, Fla. -- A rocky marriage turned deadly when police say a woman in the process of moving out of the home she shared with her ex-husband shot and killed him. 

Donna M. Horwitz, 65, was arrested and jailed Thursday on a charge of first-degree murder with a firearm for the murder of her ex-husband, 66-year-old Lanny Horwitz. According to police, Lanny Horwitz was shot multiple times in the head, torso and arm on Sept. 30.

According to the arrest affidavit, a security guard for the wealthy Admiral's Cove community responded to an alarm call at the Mariner Drive home. The guard found Lanny Horwitz dead, face down in the bathroom with a handgun in his right hand. The security guard told police he was let into the residence by the son and mother.

Jupiter police officers arrived immediately afterwards and found Horwitz on the floor of the master bedroom bathroom, nude, face down, the gun in his right hand, and with a large amount of blood around him. According to police the glass door of the shower stall was shattered, with an apparent bullet impact. Water in the shower was still running.

The couple's son, Radley Horwitz, 37, who was staying at the residence, told police his parents had been divorced from each other twice before. He said he woke to two gunshots and heard his mother screaming. Radley told police his mother was pacing back and forth in the master bedroom and screaming.

When he asked his mother what happened, she said "he was so awful," several times. When he saw his father he said he was making a "horrible" gurgling noise, so he backed out of the room, according to the arrest affadavit.

Radley said his father's bags were packed to go on a business trip, possibly with a female business partner with whom his father may have had an on-going relationship with. The victim had also reportedly told his wife to be moved out by the time he returned from his trip.

Police found two guns, a Smith and Wesson revolver by the bathroom, in which all five bullets had been fired. That was the gun the security guard moved out of Horwitz's hands for safety reasons. The second firearm was on the dresser, also a Smith and Wesson, in which all five bullets had been fired as well.

A medical examiner reported that Lanny Horwitz's body had numerous bullet wounds, including one point-blank shot with the gun placed in his mouth.

Lanny Horwitz's Facebook profile says he graduated from the State University of New York at Buffalo School of Law and Jurisprudence. He is an attornety registered in New York, Florida, Michigan and DC.

His Facebook page also says he is a founding international distributor of LifeMax and a licensed real estate broker.

Read more: http://www.cbs12.com/articles/jupiter-4735839-husband-death.html#ixzz1afkiJnW4  

Ragtime Music

John de Saulles was a contemporary of Irvin Berlin and Scott Joplin. I don't know if he ever met them, but I know he listened to their music when he was out partying the night away and neglecting his wife. When I listen to Ragtime or Swing, I think of Jack smiling and tapping his foot. 

There's another more personal reason why listening to Ragtime music gives me such a sense of calm and clarity. The explanation is going to be a bit long and complicated, but bear with me.... it's really neat.

First, I have a sort of congenital brain disorder commonly known as “perfect pitch” or “absolute pitch.” It's pretty rare, some estimates put it at 1 in 10,000 or fewer. It's poorly understood because it gets muddled with talented musicians who are very well “ear trained.” About 15 years ago, a doctor in Boston started doing MRI scans to prove that people with genuine AP ability processed music in the language center of their brains. That is, musical sounds are stored in the same area as speech. Whereas 99.9% of everybody else does not have permanent storage for notes and they process music in the short term memory. That's why, if most people have a starting note on the piano, or a toot off a pitch whistle, they can go forth and sing. Professional musicians build up a familiarity with their own instrument, and “ear training” can be pretty darned reliable. They'll name that note, too. The difference with my odd brain is that I didn't have to learn it. I don't have to think about it. "A, E, I, O, U" are as instantly recognizable as blue and orange, as six and seven, as "C sharp and B flat."  I remember being a little preschooler or kindergardener listening to my favorite LP album of Wizard of Oz. One day, I asked my older sister (who was in 6^th grade) to sing, “Over the Rainbow.” She did... and I'm sure she did a fine job, but I threw a tantrum. I still recall screaming at her, “You're singing it wrong!” before I could articulate what was so wrong about it. 

So, to all you skeptics out there, yes AP is real. I've got it. I've been officially tested by clinic professionals. I have my DNA on file at 2 separate university research projects to prove it.

OK, so now comes the funny little wrinkle. My identification of pitch is a half tone off (flat) compared to the rest of the world. This came a great shock to me when I first figured it out. See, I never pursued a career in music because it is just too frustrating and confusing to play an instrument with a group. They go off one way, and I stay my own course – following the little tuning fork in my head that no one else can hear. I became a writer and a paralegal. I got married. I had kids.

One day, my daughter is starting piano lessons. Fine. We go shopping for a piano, hoping to find an inexpensive upright for her to start on. (BTW, neither one of my kids has “it” but I strictly enforced correct singing at an early age. If they sang the Barney theme song in the car, and they were in the wrong key, I made them stop and start over.) Just for fun, we wandered over to the $ 10,000 grand pianos. My husband does the thing, where he makes me do the show. He pokes a key on a grand and says, “What's that note?” I say, “C sharp.” Then I look, no, it's just plain middle C. So we linger. We go from one ridiculously expensive, perfectly tuned grand piano to another. Every one of them... the white keys sound like black keys to me. I think, this is weird. It's one thing for the electronic keyboards in Radio Shack to sound sharp to me (they always have) but these are the real deal.

I went home and made a phone call to my brother, who is a jazz musician and has one of those electronic tuning devices. I have always ignored and scoffed at such gadgets, but now I needed one. I asked him to toot a simple “A” and over the phone I heard a “B flat.” I started crying, no... no... Suddenly all the little inconsistencies of my life, that I had shrugged off, made sense. My note names are a half tone off. My husband and I worried, for a while, that I was developing Alzheimer's and this was the first symptom. I really thought I was losing my mind.

Research time!! This was the middle/late 1990s, so the internet was not such a big thing yet. I did it the old fashioned way at the public library, in printed encyclopedias, in hardcopy periodicals, etc. Lucky for me, it was right around this time that the guy in Boston was doing his MRIs and articles about AP were accessible. I bought a nearly incomprehensible textbook on cognitive perception, and another book that changed my life: a history of musical pitch.

Brace yourself.

The music notes that you think you know, that you think are solid and absolute and echoing in the rainbow colors of the universe...? They have changed in the 20th century. Do not buy those Chakra meditation chimes at the New Age bookstore. Your body and soul does not resonate to particular pitch tones. 

For thousands and thousands of years, people have played instruments or sang to whatever pitch they felt like. A guy carving a bamboo flute makes the holes sync up and sound right to his ear, and that's good enough. Some guy did a scientific study of European pipe organs and antique tuning forks and found WILD variation all over the place. Poor Mr. Bach, when he went on tour, scribbled transposition of his melodies to adjust the pitch range for the choirs in one cathedral to another. Seriously, he did. In the 19th century, a brass band in Berlin would tune to a sharper pitch than a string quartet in Paris, and the banjoes in the New Orleans bayou would be different from either of them. It was never a problem before, because wherever you were – they tuned to themselves, and it sounded good in that spot.

Then, people traveled. People manufactured instruments and sold them to other countries. People started figuring out that there was some confusion. Singers especially complained because the higher pitch means they have to shriek higher notes. Each country established their own standard, with France being a little lower (the tuning note A is 435 Hz) and British set philharmonic pitch to (A=452 Hz). A lot of the upright pianos manufactured in America tended to lean toward French pitch, the lower, and they churned out thousands of uprights as Stephen Foster sheet music made it popular to have a keyboard in every home.

Thomas Edison invented the phonograph, and oh boy, for the first time people recorded music, packaged it up, and sold it to faraway people to spin and listen. The problem is, when you record something at a lower pitch, and play it at a higher pitch, the music sounds like squeaky mice. Folks created a need for standardization, so that a recording from Carnegie Hall in New York would sound the same to someone playing the LP in Vienna.

Blatantly copying from the Wikipedia article, “In 1939, an international conference recommended that the A above middle C be tuned to 440 Hz, now known as concert pitch. This standard was taken up by the International Organization for Standardization in 1955 and reaffirmed by them in 1975 as ISO 16. The difference between this and the diapason normal is due to confusion over the temperature at which the French standard should be measured. The initial standard was A = 439 Hz, but this was superseded by A = 440 Hz after complaints that 439 Hz was difficult to reproduce in a laboratory because 439 is a prime number.”

OK, so 1939 is the black day in history when A=440Hz became the rule. But, let's face reality. It did not immediately sweep away all those thousands of pianos that were in every home and every jazz cafe in America. Just like today, when Windows 7 hits the stores, a lot of people using Windows 2000 at home are perfectly happy to save their money and keep on using the old outdated computer.

There's a group called The Academy of Ancient Music that performs Baroque Era and Classical music on antique instruments in “historical pitch.” You can't crank a 300 year old violin up to A=440 because it will snap in half. When they play Mozart pieces toned a half note down from modern pitch, they advertise that this is exactly what ol' Amadeus would have actually sounded like. I really like them.

I think our family had an old, lower pitched piano in the home when I was growing up. Dad was cheap; he would have bought it used. My mom wanted us all to be brilliant musicians. I remember her taking my tiny little finger and pressing it to the white key, and saying, “This is middle C...” My mom passed away, and my dad sold off everything to pay the hospital bills – including the old piano – before I made this discovery about my pitch sense being half tone flat. I have no real proof, but aside from a stroke, it's the best explanation.

I bought an antique piano (from the classifieds) that was built in 1884. It has a heavy mahogany cabinet and a wonderful rich voice. I called in a professional piano tuner to polish it up, and he tuned it to the lower pitch. He affirmed that you cannot tune this piano to modern pitch (A=440) or the strings will break, the sound board will warp, etc. In order to bring it up to speed, they would need to gut the whole thing out and restring it with new. I said, no!

Ragtime music of the late teens and 1920s, and the Big Band Swing of the 1930s, was recorded on old grainy equipment BEFORE the pitch standard was set to A-440. Even in the 1940s, when the recording equipment improved and the meters set their dials to the higher pitch standard, the musicians in the studio might have kept their old antique pianos like mine.

I can feel the difference. I can tell when a song is being played on a piano where the white keys are pitched lower, compared to a piano that's tuned to A=440. When I listen to Ragtime, it feels like going home.

Happy Couple (Not)

I can’t find a single snapshot of Jack and Blanca together. I have scrounged old archived newspapers for blurry images that were often doctored (manually) in the days before Adobe Photoshop, cropped and glued and painted over. I contacted an archivist at the Library of Congress who so sweetly retrieved an un-indexed box and sent me old marked up proofs from a newspaper that went out of business. No one before me has seen these black and whites of Blanca in court!! I have contacted other reference librarians at several places, and obtained rare photos of Jack de Saulles from college yearbooks and forgotten crumbling football manuals that are more than 100 years old. I drove to Stanford and walked the dimly lit aisles of the third floor to get my hands on a Chilean poet's fictional memoirs of Blanca, which has a fabulous rare portrait photograph of her on the cover.

I have photos of Jack. I have photos of Blanca. I have photos of little Jacky Jr. with either his dad, or his mom, but never together. No portrait of the smiling couple, even at their wedding. No portrait of the 3 as a family. It's not really that surprising, I mean ask yourself, how many photos of your great-grandparents do you own right now? I should feel lucky to find so many photos already.

But, compare them to a mutual "friend" Mr. Rudolph Valentino who happily posed with his beautiful wife Natacha every time a camera sauntered into view. Dozens and dozens of photos of them on steamships, in posed portraits, on the street, on movie sets, always stylish, always side by side. I wonder if Rudy was affected by his observation of the de Saulles's relationship. I wonder if he thought, "If I had a gorgeous wife like that, I would never ignore her..."