by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Despite the absolute certainty expressed by Los Angeles Police Department detectives investigating the August 1924 shooting death of Theresa Weinstein Moers, a.k.a. Mors, that she was killed by her lover Norman Selby, the former boxing champion known as Kid McCoy, his claim that she took her life was given some currency in a banner headline in the 15 August edition of the Los Angeles Express: “KID M’COY SUICIDE STORY SUPPORTED,” though it wasn’t quite as simple as that.
That day, Dr. Andrew F. Wagner, the autopsy surgeon for Los Angeles County (he conducted 30,000 of these in his quarter-century career) “completed a careful examination of the bruised and bullet-pierced body” and gave an exclusive statement to the paper noting that the absence of powder marks on her skin could have been because of the type of bullet used, though, when asked if he thought it was a suicide, Dr. Wagner replied, “I wouldn’t care to say, but there are many possibilities.” He added that she lived for about an hour after being shot.
A notable piece of information reported on was that, at 11:30 on the evening of the 12th, the time it was believed Mors was shot, McCoy appeared at the garage, adjacent to the Nottingham Apartment building where he lived with her, and drove off in her car. It was added that this was the first time McCoy retrieved the vehicle without Mors. Two hours later, he returned, but another fifteen minutes passed and he took it out again. It was 4 a.m. when McCoy came back, accompanied by the Hollywood precinct officer, and he seemed under the influence. At 4:30, he again went to take the car out and the attendant, observing that he was “reeling with intoxication,” tried to talk McCoy out of leaving, but the reply was a laugh and the remark that he was going to “the central [police] station.”
In its coverage on the 15th, the Los Angeles Times offered several articles on the incident, including a remarkable one regarding the escorting of McCoy back to the apartment by the officer from the Hollywood station. It turned out that the officer actually saw the pile of bedclothing on the floor under which Theresa was laying dead after he peered into the apartment and McCoy roughly pushed him and growled, “no you don’t.” The officer planned to help McCoy, whom he did not recognize as a sports celebrity, get into bed, but, being miffed by the lack of appreciation for his help, left. He added that he saw nothing overtly suspicious, but noted, “I wonder what would have happened if I had insisted on undressing him?”
Meanwhile, a statement by McCoy’s brother-in-law, Roy D. Davis, was declarative as he told the press “there is but little belief in my mind that Mrs. Mors committed suicide” as he observed that, beyond what McCoy told his sister, Jennie Selby Thomas, he also exclaimed to his mother, “I have done something terrible!” Davis commented that “McCoy was clearly insane,” while remarking that he plainly intended to take his life after killing Mors.
When it came to his opinions on his client’s boxing brother, Jennie Thomas’ attorney, A.T. Stewart, pulled no punches:
This man has always been in trouble. It’s a wonder that someone hasn’t shot and killed him long ago. Look at all the scrapes he has been in; his marital troubles and all the other things.
And all the time he has been bringing shame on his family—who are about as fine a lot of people as one can find anywhere.
The Times published other interesting tidbits, including that McCoy sought employment in sales at Travelers’ life insurance company, telling an official he was inspired by former professional baseball player and evangelist Billy Sunday and attending underwriting convention meetings. He went so far as to have hundreds of business cards printed, but, when news was published of the Mors’ divorce conflicts, the firm refused to keep him, apparently creating great disappointment for McCoy.
Another piece by dispatch from New York City detailed how family members shielded Theresa’s parents from news of her death and aggressive press contact attempts. A third dramatically detailed how Albert Mors retrieved personal effects of Theresa’s and alternately wept at the memory of her and raged at McCoy. In “Exit! The Old Kid McCoy,” the contrast between “the voluble, the loquacious” ex-boxer “who invested ring chatter,” presumably trash-talking, and “a fate-battered prisoner, unshaven, hatless, coatless, dazed by strain” was emphasized.
Milliner Sam Schapp, one of those wounded in the rampage at the Mors antique shop and Schapp’s business, “declared Mrs. Mors told him only a few hours before her death she knew McCoy would kill her if she left him.” It was at 5 p.m. when she promised Schapp and his wife, Anna, that she would break off the relationship, this after repeated efforts since the romance began in February to get her to end it.
Meanwhile, in a different take on Dr. Wagner’s remarks regarding the likelihood of suicide, it was remarked that the autopsy surgeon believed further analysis by the county chemist was needed on tissues at the wound area “for certainty on this point.” While police believed bruises and wounds, such as to her lip, were from blows, Wagner determined that the latter and cuts to her chest and forearm were from a knife. It was also observed, though, that the bullet entered her left temple, but Theresa was right-handed, while McCoy claimed she grabbed the gun from the dining table and shot herself during a struggle.
The major news was Jennie Selby Thomas’ testimony, reluctantly rendered, to the grand jury, with the Times stating “it was one of the most gripping and dramatic stories ever told within the historic walls of the grand jury room, for it came from the halting lips of a frail little woman, with tear-stained eyes and ghastly white face testifying against her own brother.” Her statement was:
“Sister, I am going to kill myself. I have nothing more to live for. I am going to kill myself.”
“Why Norman, what has happened?”
“Teresa and I quarreled at the apartment, and I think I killed her.”
The accused’s attorneys, Edward Davin and Richard Knickerbocker, were apparently preparing for an insanity defense, telling the press that their client “is in a state of mental shock” and should remain silent “until his mind clears up, if it ever does.” They added that “there is no doubt that he was mentally unbalanced when he appeared at the store” while friends long felt, as mentioned earlier in this post, “that he had not been right mentally for a long time.”
It was added that there was a group of McCoy’s friends who engaged lawyers to advocate for his situation, though how specifically was not mentioned. Another component was a meeting Albert Mors had with District Attorney Keyes at which he was reported to have accounted for his whereabouts and provided names of those who could provide an alibi during the evening and early morning when his ex-wife died. Moreover, the Times noted, on advice of counsel, McCoy’s sister would only testify in court, not in a conference with Keyes, so the grand jury proceeding was quickly arranged.
Another article concerned the report that, “a valuable collection of jewels owned by Mrs. Teresa Mors has occasioned the entry of the United States Treasury Department into the remarkable case,” with a two-month investigation by the feds into where these gems derived as an attempt was to determine whether they were smuggled into the country without paying import duties. The diamonds and pearls were said to be valued up to $30,000. Before her death, Theresa told agents that she acquired them in New York City and provided names of the companies and the dates of purchase, but the contentious divorce, division of property and her announcement to return to the Big Apple led agents to seize jewels given by her to an unnamed person.
The Los Angeles Record of the 15th rivaled its rival Times in extensive coverage of the slaying and its aftermath with a headline reading “‘Kid’ M’Coy Sane, Says Keyes.” It was noted that the morning involved the prisoner’s interviews with the police, while “infinite precautions against suicide or violence was taken by officers when they allowed McCoy to be shaved,” after which his “weary haggard countenance was visibly brightened.”
With respect to an assumed insanity defense, the paper recorded that a police receiving hospital surgeon opined that “it is becoming evident that a serious and disturbing combat between legal and medical definitions of insanity is rapidly making a ridiculous thing of the machinery of justice.” At the Central Station Jail, a sergeant observed that the prisoner took “his daily exercises methodically and efficiently” while in his cell and offered that, “I am not so sure about McCoy being insane” and felt the “jackass whisky” that was prevalent during Prohibition “will make a crazy man out of any of us” so “no wonder he was dazed and semi-hysterical when they brought him in.”
Keyes, too, discountenanced the idea of insanity as “a desperate pretext of the man who feared for his life” while telling the press,
The suicide theory of the crime was a blind. It is too incredible to fool any juror. It is emphasized only to distract our attention from the main defense, which will surely be a plea for insanity.
This theory we are prepared to meet point blank and there is no doubt that the case will be won on the ground of facts alone. We are prepared to find out the truth and lay it before the court.
The Record published an array of interesting facts bearing on the matter, including McCoy’s jibe at Keyes that he was going to vote for him and secure others to do the same; that the complaint filed by Theresa against her husband for threatening her life was dismissed by a justice of the peace, while Gladys Barbieri’s complaint regarding the taking of Mors, Inc. documents was to be heard at the end of the month; and that an investigation was being conducted concerning robberies of Julian Oil Company gas stations while McCoy was working in security for the firm.
As to his possession of a gun given to him by the late Hubert Kittle, a former daredevil aviator who committed suicide after accusations of his committing a bank robbery, the paper stated that “McCoy was not unacquainted with the ways of those who live by their wits in defiance of the law.” He had a gun permit, but Under-Sheriff Eugene Biscailuz, later sheriff for many years, revoked it after deputies investigated a car in front of a house where McCoy lived with a woman under the name of “Nathan Stone.” There were also leads being followed as to whether he was involved in an auto theft ring, while a blood-stained hammer handle found in Theresa’s Cadillac was also being investigated.
Little ink was spent on Dr. Wagner’s analysis, but the Record took a different tack regarding his statements, as it began by interpreting his remarks as declaring that the gunshot was fired from a distance, though the tissue analysis was needed, though it was added that he remarked “if there are no such traces [of gunpowder], the conclusion that Mrs. Mors committed suicide is impossible.” Regarding an insanity defense, a different quote was obtained from defense attorney Knickerbocker, who focused on the Mors antique shop incident to offer, “McCoy has give every indication that he is not mentally responsible for his conduct.”
Yet, the paper informed readers that McCoy changed his story about Theresa’s’ death three times, including an assertion that Albert killed her, as well as confession that he did it, that she shot herself and died in his arms and, finally, that there was a suicide pact, though he “blanked out” and did not follow through on his consummation of self-destruction. It was observed, moreover, that he could not account for the bruises and cuts on her body, which Keyes felt “will eventually help convict” McCoy based on the belief that he beat her in a jealous rage and then shot and killed her.
The jealousy was based, the D.A. added, on the fact that letters from “Sam” and using endearing terms were found in the apartment, though friend and neighboring business owner Sam Schapp owned up to those missives being from him, but stated that the expressions were ones of friendship, not romance. Keyes cited reports of a possible attempted reconciliation Theresa was seeking with Albert, who, however, told the press that was not possible, so that McCoy “fearing to be deprived of his ‘one and only love,’ flew into a rage which resulted in Mrs. Mors’ death.”
An unnamed defense attorney offered an opinion to the Record that,
The law does not recognize drunkenness [as] an excuse for commission of a felony. Even if McCoy were known to be insane or a drug addict, as rumor has it; if he drank heavily the night of the killing his insanity defense would fail.
As we saw earlier in this post, McCoy openly admitted to drinking before and after Theresa’s death. Concerning the efforts of Sam and Anna Schapp to convince their friend to end her relationship with McCoy—to which she told them “I will tell Mr. Selby we must part—but I know he will kill me!”—Sam, recovering at the Clara Barton Hospital from his gunshot wound, told reporters,
Mrs. Mors, a woman of culture, was ruining herself for McCoy. She was blinded by infatuation with McCoy. But she feared him. She knew he was desperate. Yet she had the courage to face him and tell him all was over between them. Then he shot her.
Schapp allowed that “she actually loved McCoy, but later realized her love was not based on the fundamental grounds of enduring devotion,” as paraphrased by the paper. The Record also recorded that McCoy’s sister, Jennie, believed he was innocent, though it didn’t provide any statements from her or any other information as to why, while her grand jury testimony was certainly very damning.
It did, however, cite his ninth wife, Dagmar Dalgren, an actor, dancer and singer who appeared in some movies and “who says she was living next door to McCoy on the night of the killing,” an extraordinary circumstance, though, it was added, “she didn’t know Selby was in the neighborhood.” Though their 1921 marriage lasted just three days in terms of living together (his constant talking about and comparing his previous eight spouses led Dalgren to file for divorce), she remarked “I still love him. I would have tried to save him.” She reflected on their brief time together and concluded, “he seemed so wonderful to me. He was one of the great ones of earth.”
In an editorial titled “The Rampage of McCoy,” the Record remarked that,
The rampage of “Kid” McCoy will go down in sordid criminal history as one of the most unique ever staged. “He must have gone crazy,” is what most men say who knew the “Kid” . . .
With wanton intent and murder in his heart—and he admits it—McCoy went a-gunning . . .
There is altogether too much of this sort of thing prevalent in our country today . . . his amours and promiscuity with women classes him with what physicians term as border-liners, that is individuals, who, by continual relaxation of their self-control, lose the powers of exercising it.
This is not insanity, it is self-indulgence. And self-indulgence has not yet been indorsed by the alienists [those dealing with mental illness] as a plea in extenuation for murder . . .
And it is the McCoy sort of case which, when unpunished, has brought our system of judiciary into disrepute.
The paper’s sports editor, Ed Frayne, felt it newsworthy to relate a story regarding how, after heavyweight boxing champion Jack Dempsey won the “Battle of the Century” against Georges Carpentier in 1921, McCoy met the champ at the Alexandria Hotel in Los Angele a few weeks later, with an unusual request. Apparently, McCoy came home that day and was asked by his wife (Dalgren) where he was and he responded that he was out with Dempsey, to which she rejoined, “WHEN DID DEMPSEY START WEARING A RED HAT.” McCoy, the story went, asked his friend to wear a red hat and go to his house to provide an alibi for him, but Dempsey laughingly said he might get battered by a rolling pin instead.
Don Ryan, whose musings on death from the prior day’s edition of the Record were recorded in part three of this post, came up with “Satyr’s Mortal Soul” for this one. He began with the observation that, “the career of the most unwonted man in America has come to a full stop” while “the bullet that pierced the skull of his tenth love, put a period to the achievement of Kid McCoy, anomaly of his generation.” Moreover, the columnist commented, “the inchoate old man . . . is not the Kid McCoy of yore.”
The latter was “a dandy of the nineties” who was “a victor by virtue of his fists and the tricky head that made him equally notorious,” including making comments in the ring to distract his opponents before he landed the crushing blow that won the bout. Ryan continued that, “this egoist, possessed of super-vitality . . . thundered like a centaur over the world, seeking his joys.” Moreover, the writer inquired, “an abysmal brute with the sleek surface of a gentleman, with a tongue that could charm like a flute—what woman could resist the combination?
Even into his fifties, McCoy projected supreme self-possession and confidence in conquest, while Ryan retailed an incident at the ex-pugilist’s New York City cafe in which he bested a pair of robbers with his still-impressive fighting skills. The columnist then remarked, “the fellow was charming. As charming as Satan. No wonder he had so many friends—so many friends from the elite of the world, artists, statesmen, millionaires.” Some of them, like lyricist Bryan, mentioned in part three, or Dick Ferris, promoter of the famed 1910 air meet south of Los Angeles, automobile races and more, offered their support after his arrest.
Asking “how in quick wrath, a superman might kill his latest love,” Ryan employed all of his florid wordsmithing abilities to conclude,
The framed photograph placed in Teresa Mors’ hand, the dying kiss, belong perfectly in the picture. “For all men kill the thing they love” [a misquote of Oscar Wilde from “The Ballad of Reading Gaol”] Supreme sadism.
So: a whirl of passion in the violet-tinted apartment. One last whirl. Passion and death . . . Blows, perhaps. Cuts . . .
The automatic revolver speaks . . . The deep, wide divan is clotting with blood now. The round fat pillows in lemon-tinted lace, spotted with blood now.
The music drags, slowly now, as it drags in the movie death scenes. The final touch. Ah! The photograph, of course. Pressed in the stiffening hand.
Hand to brow, the other extended at the side—Farewell! The Kid staggers out, as the music dies.
Will he ever tell the true story? Hardly. The Kid, the romantic Kid, doesn’t know the true story of that scene in the violet-tinted apartment.
The Kid is a national figure again. Again he fills the center of the stage. Plump in the glare of the spotlight. But the Kid cannot smile any more, nor dust off his fingers nonchalantly. The kid is ended. A sentimental ending for the triumphant cynic, the master of life, the immortelle of love.
With that prodigious preponderance of purple prose, we’ll halt and look to return tomorrow with part five, so be sure to join us then!