Photograph by George Sakkestad
The Unitarian Fellowship calls this building at 15980 Blossom Hill Road home. They were at 123 E. Main St. when San Quentin warden Clinton T. Duffy addressed the group in 1952.
'No man has been hanged in the state of California who had $500 when he needed it," said San Quentin Warden Clinton T. Duffy at a local Unitarian Fellowship meeting. The year was 1952, the year that Duffy retired after his 12-year career as warden. He spoke at the building at 123 E. Main St. in what today is the home of Los Gatos- Saratoga Department of Community Education and Recreation.
The Unitarians, who believe in the teachings of Jesus Christ but not his divinity, met at numerous places before constructing their permanent home shown here at 15980 Blossom Hill Road, three-quarters of a mile east of Los Gatos Boulevard.
Duffy spoke of the beginning of San Quentin--originally a prison ship of that name that dropped anchor in the northern waters of San Francisco Bay along the Marin coastline. That site became the location of the prison of the same name. Prisoners died of captivity and exposure. The first prison built ashore at that site was in the early 1880s.
During the worldwide flu epidemic of 1918, most prisoners felt their outlook was bleak and refused to wear flu masks. Not so death row prisoner Tom Mooney, who was confident of his release. He wore his mask constantly. A union man, he was eventually cleared of charges that he bombed a World War II Preparedness Day Parade on Market Street in San Francisco. He was cleared mainly by the sleuthing of and editorial support of Fremont Older.
Los Gatos commuters knew Older, who boarded the train at Azule Station just north of Saratoga and headed to his Call-Bulletin office. He was one of the first publishers to hire women writers and one of them, Evelyn Wells, collaborated with Leo Stanley, M.D., on his book Men at Their Worst. For 27 years, Stanley was chief surgeon of San Quentin.
Duffy told of prisoner "Bluebird" Watson, who confessed to having killed seven of his 22 wives but failed to account for the whereabouts of many more.
The most vile prisoner, said Duffy, was 20-year-old William Hickman, who enticed from school the 14-year-old daughter of his best friend, butchered her and anonymously tried to extract a reward from her father for finding the body.
Dr. Stanley was one person prisoners did not try to bluff, because he knew more about inmates than they knew of themselves. Prisoners called him "The Chief Croaker."
When Duffy accepted questions, someone asked about the Pasadena jeweler who was hanged for strangling his San Jose State sweetheart after she broke off their relationship. Her killing was most imaginative. He pleaded with her to grant him one more motel date. He set the scene with soft lights, romantic music, an intimate supper and champagne. After they consummated the date, he strangled her. He was apprehended, convicted and hanged. Wasn't this an example of a well-to-do man being hanged? "No," said Duffy. "He refused to hire a lawyer." This happened before it became mandatory that prisoners have at least a public defender.
This article appeared in the Los Gatos Weekly-Times, November 27, 1996.
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