FRISCO—The Secret History

30 - A Frisco Murder On a Foggy Spring Night, the Nick DeJohn Killing of 1947, Part 1

Nick DeJohn never knew when he had enough.  He’d slipped out of Chicago in the nick of time, so to speak, with a stolen $250K skim in his pocket and a lot of enemies at his back. Safe in Santa Rosa, California, with his wife and children, he could have stayed quiet and counted his money.  But guys like Nick need the action. He decided he could muscle into the gambling action in Frisco. Old underworld connections were drifting west based on rumors that Northern California was opening up, and not just in Frisco. Nick figured he could make a move. Maybe get into the dope trade as well. He had plenty of friends. On May 7, 1947, Nick pointed his big maroon Buick south and drove into San Francisco for the day. He looked at a house he planned to buy, met up with his old Cheese Syndicate partner and good friend Leonard Calamia. They had known each other for years. Their families were close. Nick trusted him. What Nick didn’t know was that Leonard had been sent west by Chicago boss James Franzone to take care of the "DeJohn" problem.  By nightfall they were in North Beach, at La Rocca’s Corner, where a handful of familiar faces waited beneath the glow of neon signs and the haze of cigarette smoke. Nick thought he was spending the evening with old friends at La Rocca's Corner in North Beach. Even top Frisco boss Tony Lima was there that night.  This is Part One of the story of Nick DeJohn and his untimely but unsurprising end, about ambition and betrayal, and the way old debts never disappear.  Nick DeJohn spent the last few hours of his life in a North Beach mafia hangout, surrounded by men he had known for years, smoking, drinking, maybe playing cards. Nick had no friends in the bar. Two days later, police found him in the trunk of his Buick out in the Marina District, while the men who put him there were busy planning their next moves.

29—Belle Cora, Frisco's Notorious Gold Rush Madam Tries To Save Her Man

The city was young then, all bad whiskey, muddy boots, and men chasing gold like it was salvation itself. Meet Belle Cora, the most notorious madam west of the Mississippi. She came in hard from New Orleans with gambler Charles Cora and enough nerve to tame a town that didn’t scare easy. A sorry of crooked gamblers, desperate miners, abandoned ships rotting in Yerba Buena Cove, and a city where vice wasn’t hidden in alleyways: it sat right at the head of the table wearing silk gloves and diamonds.  Belle and Charles were the kind of lovers that only exist in old crime sheets and whispered stories after midnight. He was a hot-headed riverboat gambler with a pistol close at hand; she was sharp enough to build an empire in a town overrun by lonely men and easy money. Together they clawed their way from mining camps to the top of Frisco’s underworld, throwing lavish parties while judges, politicians, and merchants slipped through the front door after dark. Belle crossed paths with society queen Lavinia Richardson, and Charles tangled with U.S. Marshal William Richardson — a collision that would end with gunfire in a dark alley and a murder trial soaked in bribery and scandal. Then came the reckoning. Newspaper wars, political grudges, vigilante justice — the whole rotten carnival rolled downhill fast. The feud surrounding Belle and Charles ignited one of the most infamous Vigilance Committee hangings in Frisco history, ending beneath the shadow of the gallows while church bells rang through the fog. It’s a story packed with doomed romance, corruption, revenge, and the kind of hard luck that built this town one coffin at a time. This is a bonus episode of Frisco: The Secret History. You can hear part of it free, but for the whole dark ride, head over to Patreon and subscribe.

28—A Playlist From Hal Smith To Accompany His Interview On Lu Watters' Yerba Buena Jazz Band

Yesterday, I published wherein I interviewed drummer and jazz historian Hal Smith. We discussed the music scene in San Francisco in the 30s and 40s and how one man, Lu Watters and his band The Yerba Buena Jazz Band, saved traditional jazz after the emergence of swing music.  I asked him for a playlist our listeners. He provided this list of songs and youtube links with extensive commentary. Thank you, Hal! Enjoy!

27—Lu Watters and his Yerba Buena Jazz Band Save Trad Jazz, An Interview With Hal Smith

In this episode, I interview drummer and jazz historian Hal Smith. We discuss the music scene in San Francisco in the 30s and 40s and how one man, Lu Watters and his band The Yerba Buena Jazz Band, saved traditional jazz after the emergence of swing music. The musicians, the clubs, and how an girlfriend's irate father with a pistol put Lu and his band on the front page, launching their career.  All in all, fascinating story! Links: Hal's website: http://halsmithjazz.com [http://halsmithjazz.com]. Books: Clancy Hayes, The Swinging Minstrel [https://www.amazon.com/Clancy-Hayes-Swinging-Chris-Reid/dp/1843822369/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1QLLO5ZBOOUWL&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.cwTpCgC_l07L_ii2ujQbqU95XpMCpZhdOfMms9jVxB8.eBH_vGyBAyVIsVFpHG55WoSKocBHzYetdoR8M_O09uU&dib_tag=se&keywords=clancy+hayes+the+singing+minstrel&qid=1777740231&sprefix=clancy+hayes+the+singing+minstrel%2Caps%2C182&sr=8-1]. Dustbowl To Disney—The Lost Memoir of Danny Alguire [https://www.amazon.com/Dust-Bowl-Disney-Memoir-Alguire/dp/1629339679].

26: The Ding Dong Daddy of the D-Car Line!

We are going to look at the life and times of little Francis Van Wie, the Diminutive Dutchman known also as the Ding Dong Daddy of the D-Car Line, the Car Barn Casanova, and the Trolley Toreador, and other nicknames. Francis managed to get hitched eighteen times over the course of his eighty-eight years. He rarely, if ever, bothered to get divorced. He did a stint in San Quentin for bigamy. He started making nationwide news in 1915 at the age of twenty-seven and would continue to do so until he passed on from this mortal coil.  Francis covered so much territory over the course of his life, had so many jobs, told so many stories, and married so many women, as many as twelve concurrently at one point, it’s been a bit of a challenge to map his odyssey.  I believe I have gotten it right.