by Paul R. Spitzzeri
It was almost exactly a year to the day that Los Angeles bond broker Joseph J. Patterson was killed near the lonely stretch of highway passing through Santa Ana Canyon in the northeastern extremity of Orange County that one of his accused killers, Albert Dewey Gaines, went on trial in Santa Ana, this being about a half-year since his accomplice, Philip A. Goodwin was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to death.
The Santa Ana Register of 14 March 1927 observed that “the long grind of the wheels of Justice . . . commenced officially shortly after 10 a.m. today, when the examination of a jury in Superior [Court] Judge James L. Allen court [commenced.]” The paper continued.
The grind is expected to continue for the next fortnight, or longer, although smooth and speedy justice was made today. Out of the maw of the legal machinery invoked to action today will come, barring a mistrial, the verdict that brands the ‘Utah cowboy’ guilty or innocent . . .
After mentioning those present, including the victim’s brother, Goodwin’s attorneys (who were seeking an appeal), and the new prosecution team, with the prior district attorney and deputies replaced, it was remarked that the defendant was “young and handsome, his black hair ‘slicked back;’ wearing a natty grey suit with a blue polka-dot bow tie,” while he “appeared thoroughly at ease as he conversed frequently with his counsel, Santa Ana lawyer Otto A. Jacobs and Los Angeles attorney George Halverson.
During jury selection, it was noted, few admitted to knowing anything about the matter, while new D.A. Zephaniah B. West, Junior, was more concerned about views on the death penalty. The case could well have been delayed because a witness, who rented the car used during the trip that included Patterson’s death, had a broken back and could not appear, but both sides agreed that his testimony from the Goodwin trial could be used in the Gaines proceeding.
Mindful of the next day’s date, the Register began its second day of coverage with the dramatic and sensationalized remark that,
The Ides of March, day of black evil, which sealed the doom of Joseph J. Patterson a year ago, even as it saw the fall of the greatest Roman [Julius Caesar] 1970 years before, today found another human being battling against its portent of death.
The paper noted that the jury, with seven women and five men (there was only one of the former in the Goodwin trial) was seated, if not quite as quickly as in the Goodwin case, very soon after the morning began, and the prosecution, West and deputy Lewis W. Blodget, offered the opening argument, focused on their goal “to prove that Gaines committed the crime, or aided and abetted its commission.” Blodget, though, told the jury that it would be shown that both men killed Patterson and their motive was stealing Julian Petroleum Company stock certificates in the victim’s possession.
Witnesses were called, with a deputy sheriff stopping to shake the defendant’s hand, but the defense hardly objected and did little cross-examination, apparently waiting “to make trouble for the prosecution [when] it reached the point of proving that the body was that of Patterson.” On day three, however, the defense was able to get Santa Ana physician, Dr. Ruggles A. Cushman, to admit, despite his confidence in this case, that he expressed uncertainty as to whether fractures in Patterson’s skull, which were brought in a tin can (making some women uncomfortable) were caused before or after death. Confronted with the contradiction, the medico declared, “wise men change their minds, fools never.”
Patterson’s sibling, Robert, who came to town from Miami, a copper mining town east of Phoenix, Arizona, provided identification of the dead man’s effects, as well as of Joseph’s signature on documents, like the Julian stock, both of which were considered crucial for the prosecution, including the assertion that some of the stock had forged signatures. The lack of cross-examination, though, struck some observers.
Meanwhile, the Register of 16 March commented that,
The defense will contend that Joseph J. Patterson’s skull was not crushed by a blow at the time of his death, as is alleged by the prosecution . . . [instead] the collapse of the rear portion of the skull, when the body was disinterred four months after death, for identification as Patterson’s remains, was due to “natural falling apart of sutures of the skull,” Halverson said the defense would prove.
While Josiah E. Seale, a Fullerton undertaker, struggled to identify skull parts when Halverson queried him on it, leading the lawyer to offer his theory, John H. Lang, a doctor from that northern county city, not only named those pieces but unequivocally offered his view that “the collapse of the skull was not a natural process” but was done by “considerable force” with more than one blow. Yet, after pointing out an area that was deemed a fracture, with Halverson asking if he was sure, Lang demurred, conceding it was natural. A Fullerton dentist, Dr. John Menges, was called to verify Patterson’s identity through dental records.
On day four of the trial, deputy D.A. Blodget introduced a pane of glass, found in Gaines’ Los Angeles apartment which handwriting expert Milton Carlson attested was used for forging Patterson’s signature—early in this post it was noted that Gaines was convicted in Fresno County in the late Teens on this charge and was sent up to San Quentin State Prison. Of 16 witnesses who appeared that day, nothing was presented that was materially new from the Goodwin trial, though, again, it was interesting to see that, when Patterson signed a San Diego hotel register under an assumed name, he gave his residence as Charleston, West Virginia—his hometown was Charleston, Missouri.
The fifth day of the proceedings included testimony by Carlson and some intense questioning by defense attorneys, who, undoubtedly, thought it crucial to upset this key point of the prosecution about Gaines’ proclivity and skill in forgery. Blodget referred to a piece of evidence from the Goodwin trial, this being a letter from the actor-priest, then in New York City, to Gaines, who was in Denver, a month after the Patterson murder, and which implored the latter, referred to as a “dear,” to “let me know all the dirt” and apologized for poor treatment when Gaines was visiting in Los Angeles. The missive also concerned the missing Patterson and whether he went to San Diego, while the forged “Tui Juana” letters, one dated 10 days after Patterson’s death, mentioned earlier in this post were believed to have been penned by Goodwin and were key pieces of evidence.
It was day six, however, that proved to be the most intense, as Goodwin, brought down from San Quentin, appeared in court, with the Register of the 19th beginning its coverage with,
Phil Goodwin, sent to the gallows by his friend, yesterday took his revenge.
Breaking a silence that he had maintained throughout his own trial and afterwards, according to his own story, the actor-priest denounced his one-time “pal,” Albert Dewey Gaines, as the confessed murderer of Joseph J. Patterson.
The Rev. Mr. Goodwin . . . declared that his co-defendant [sic] had, while both were in county jail, admitted to him details of the Patterson murder and sworn to save the priest from the noose at any cost.
The paper noted the thrill through the courtroom when Goodwin took the stand and added the condemned man gave “even more sensation than was expected of him.” Yet, when he was seated and was “the magnet that drew an electric current through the hushed courtroom, where a throng, mostly women and girls” were in thrall, “Father Goodwin loosed his tongue and hurled the positive accusation of guilt fairly into the strained face of his estranged ‘buddy.'”
The star witness’ testimony, it was readily agreed by seasoned observers, was “calculated to save Goodwin from the death sentence passed upon him,” and which, again, he was appealing, “as well as to blast the props from beneath the Gaines defense.” While Gaines focused a steely gaze on him, “the actor-priest appeared to sense the changed atmosphere” so that “the dramatist, the actor in him, responded to it.”
The Register recorded that,
Cool and poised, as at his own trial, his even measured tones stabbed the vast silence of the room. Word by word, phrase by phrase, he painted Gaines a moral coward, who had confessed guilt, promised to protect his friend, and then had tried to sacrifice that friend’s life to save his own.
The watching throng gasped at the surprising turn of events. They saw Gaines lean forward in his seat, as though he would transfix the priest with his gaze, or was himself hypnotized.
After Goodwin allowed that he’d been in possession of Patterson’s financial instruments, but repeated that he did so on Gaines’ behalf, he asserted that, in the county lockup, the latter “made his confession of guilt . . . wept at Goodwin’s kindness to him, and had vowed that the priest should not die on the gallows.” He elaborated, telling the court that, as the two were in felony tank number two, “Gaines cried” and Goodwin admonished him, “you’ve been very, very foolish, Abe, but I don’t hold it against you.” This was followed by a remark that 90% of people would have done the same, the witness asserted that he reassured his compatriot, “don’t worry, I’ll never lie against you, even though you have lied and you know it.”
After Goodwin’s conviction, he had an interaction with his trial adversary in a jailhouse corridor, and, he intoned, Gaines told him, “P.A., I’ve been just one damn skunk. You have been awfully white [honorable] and I’ll not forget it.” When asked why he turned on Goodwin, Gaines supposedly said that, with experts like Carlson asserting that Goodwin forged documents, and acknowledging that it was him instead, he didn’t believe Goodwin could be convicted, while he was apparently promised more lenient treatment.
The witness then told the court that he asked Gaines, “how about it, Abe? Did you really take Patterson out and burn him alive?” to which the alleged reply was, “no, P.A., he was dead when the fire commenced” because the body was stiff for hours, though Gaines was said to have added, “but I hit him on the head several times to make sure,” using a fence post found along a road. Goodwin then asserted that he advised Gaines to either “come clean and tell the truth and throw yourself on the mercy of the court” or “keep your mouth shut until your trial.” At this, it was averred,
Gaines took both my hands in his—he was crying—and said: “P.A., you’ve been so damnably white. I want you to know, when you go to San Quentin, I will not let you hang, no matter what happens.
As with the Goodwin trial, the witness proved imperturbable when cross-examined by Jacobs and Halverson and “court observers agreed that the priest emerged in front,” with the defense giving it up after an hour of good grilling. It should be added that the courtroom was crammed with every seat taken and other standing on the periphery. As Goodwin did, Gaines took the stand in his own defense and, while it was reported that his “denials were vigorous,” though there were moments in which “he seemed harried by the grilling.”
When closing arguments were made, West was sure to tell the jury, as paraphrased by the Register “that there was a conspiracy between Goodwin and Gaines to murder Patterson” and that the former was “the ‘brains” and the latter the “brute force.” The defendant was excoriated for convenient lapses of memory, while the claim that he was drunk “should not be allowed to excuse the crime.” As for who forged documents, the D.A. said it was not germane because, in a conspiracy, both were equally guilty.
Jacobs, known in Santa Ana as the “laughing lawyer” because of his amiable personality, insisted that, if Gaines committed the murder, he would have fled immediately instead of returning for a time to Los Angeles and only left “because of the shabby treatment accorded him by Goodwin, who had invited him there.” It was stated that it was obvious that Gaines, concerned about his criminal past, would have taken the approach that he did with authorities.
When Blodget got the last word for the prosecution, he demanded that Gaines be given the death penalty, as well, and cited the words of the defense that,
If either Gaines or Goodwin committed the dastardly murder of Patterson hanging was too good for them.
Blodget heaped vitriol on both men and sarcastically cited the endearments in the aforementioned letter from Goodwin to Gaines, telling the court, “I have received many letters, but I never got one like that from a man.” The deputy district attorney was paraphrased as suggesting that the duo had “what might be termed a ‘universal partnership,’ such as exists between man and wife” and acted such that they were “partners in everything, [and] were partners too in murder.” The letter cited above a month after the murder, Blodget asserted, reflected this completely.
Halverson closed and insisted that Goodwin was a “lone wolf” in Patterson’s murder “and that Gaines had no part in the crime.” He read from the court reporter transcript to claim the prosecution was fundamentally flawed and that the true “master mind” used his clerical aura to take advantage of the defendant as a “human pawn.” When the defense attorney tried to use the Mackelbride name in his argument, West leapt up to object, but Halverson was unmoved as he tried to assert his client was used by Goodwin.
Jury deliberations were longer than in the Goodwin trial and, after three-and-a-quarter hours, they emerged with an evident compromise, deciding to convict Gaines of 2nd-degree murder, which mandated a sentence of 10 years to life. The defense expressed themselves as satisfied and added that there would be no appeal. The Bulletin commented,
Gaines himself received the verdict in court with mingled disappointment and joy showing on his face. He smiled at the jurors as they left the court room after sparing him from the fate that another jury bestowed upon his co-defendant [sic] and alleged fellow conspirator, Philip A. Goodwin.
Observers believed that this verdict, said to be either 9-3 or 8-4 for first-degree murder, with three women jurors reported to be in tears over the strain, and leading one “court attache” to state that “it was a legislative jury. It made law of its own,” before the reduced charge was agreed upon, would also work in Goodwin’s favor with his appeal, though, as we saw the California Supreme Court took different approaches in ordering a new trial, which led to a second conviction, but one with a life sentence, not the death penalty.
The Register obtained a quote from Gaines as he waited for the jury to return and deliver its verdict:
I’m a fatalist, that’s why I’m not worrying about it. What is meant to be is bound to be. If I am convicted, then it will be because that what was in the cards. This matter of a trial is just like a roulette wheel. The little ball is whirling round and round. If it drops on a lucky number, I’ll go free.
On 28 March, Judge Allen imposed the sentence and allowed the convicted murderer an opportunity to address the court, with Gaines stating that he was trained in morals by his mother, who was a member of the Mormon Church, though he admitted to some gambling and drinking, though claimed he did not do drugs, while saying he preferred fishing to engaging with people. When Allen asked for a motive, Gaines demurred.
The paper printed his remarks in full, including:
I am not in the garb of a minister or disguised as a prelate. I am only a soldier of fortune. I will not attempt to exaggerate my moral merits or religion, except the religion of humanity, the brotherhood of man. [After some philosophizing including the meaning of life, his mother’s love and his view that “might is right”] Does it occur to you that without my testimony Goodwin could not possibly have been convicted? . . . Now, if the jury in Goodwin’s case believed all of my story, and the jury in my case believed just half my story [recall that the Supreme Court expressed doubts about both men and their narratives], now I’ll take the liberty to go further and say that if Goodwin is granted a new trial I might have an entirely different story to tell.
As we saw, though, when Goodwin was tried again, Gaines, while being sent to Santa Ana after being called to testify, refused to do so. His former partner did get a reduced sentence, though it was to life imprisonment. Both men, as was typical, filed for parole at intervals, but Goodwin died at Folsom State Prison at the end of August 1942.
With respect to Gaines, he was confined at Folsom for more than 15 years, then was transferred for a brief time to San Quentin in 1944-1945 and then repatriated to Folsom on 13 March of that latter year. Shortly afterward, he was freed and returned to Ogden, Utah to live with his mother. After four years, he worked in an ice cream factory, but, on 10 November 1949, robbed a grocer of $10,000, during which act he shot and wounded the victim. Five days later, he was arrested and, about a month later, pled guilty.
Gaines was handed a sentence of 20 years, on top of the 34 he’d received in his three prior felony convictions. When asked if he wanted to address the court, the four-time convict lamented that there were others suspected in the case, because he’d hidden money at his mother’s house and he decried her being taken to jail and questioned, though she was not arrested, while his girlfriend lost her job due to the notoriety.
The following year, Gaines was part of an operation to tunnel out of prison, with 50 feet excavated and only a few feet left to freedom before the project was accidentally discovered when a disused closet was found to have been breached. After being transferred to a state-run mental hospital, he, in summer 1955, led a group of other prisoners moved there in a break, using a gun to take keys from an employee. The hospital superintendent reported that Gaines frequently caused trouble and it was recommended he be returned to prison, but no action was taken.
In March 1956, Gaines was spotted by a game warden in American Fork and, drawing a toy gun, kidnapped the employee using the latter’s car. When they stopped at a gas station in Orem, the warden, who somehow still had his weapon on him, took advantage of a moment’s distraction to shoot Gaines with the bullet severing his spinal cord and rendering him paralyzed. Shortly after, an infection set in and the 58-year old died.
Needless to say, it is impossible to know exactly what transpired in that lonely stretch of Santa Ana Canyon, where thousands of motorists drive by on the 91 Freeway and a golf course, parkland, houses and other development now exist. The old canard from the Book of Proverbs in the Bible, which, presumably the American Catholic Church priest knew all about, that “there is no honor among thieves” holds true when it comes to Goodwin and Gaines, though the person to be remembered and lamented is Joseph J. Patterson.
As noted throughout this series of posts on the 1926 murder case, we can appreciate the complexities and challenges the sheriffs and prosecution teams faced in identifying the victim, determining the cause of death, identifying the suspects, and linking them to the crime scene. A century ago, with only limited forensic techniques available, criminal investigations often took much longer time to complete and relied heavily on witness testimony and circumstantial evidence.
Today, law enforcement and prosecutors have access to a wide array of sophisticated tools, including extensive databases of fingerprints, dental records, and missing persons; advanced forensic technologies such as DNA analysis, microscopic examinations, CT scans, and modern autopsy techniques; as well as GPS tracking, cell-site location data, security cameras, and CCTV footage. These scientific and technological advances have made many criminal investigations far more efficient and reliable than they were a century ago.
However, no matter how compelling the scientific or forensic evidence may be, defense attorneys today often raise an insanity defense to simply and easily eliminate the criminal responsibility on the grounds of mental disease.
Hi Larry, thanks for the comment and you raise important points regarding forensic science and the vast changes that have taken place in that field in the last 100 years. The other point that stood out in this was how quickly the legal process moved compared to today, from arrest to preliminary hearing, arraignment, indictment, trial and the rendering of a verdict. This is aside from the very complicated and contested matter of the death penalty, which Goodwin avoided through his second trial.