1886

In fall 1886, Officer John L. Fonck confronted one of his superiors face to face. He charged Chief of Police J.W. Davis with “standing in with the gamblers,” in other words, allowing them to operate their illegal casinos unfettered (Los Angeles Times, Dec. 8, 1886). California had banned gaming 26 years earlier.

In response, Davis suspended him for insubordination. When Fonck subsequently asked the police commissioners to reinstate him, they fired him instead.

The unemployed officer then took his allegations against Davis to the Los Angeles Times, which published them.

Chief Publicly Outed

Consequently, the Los Angeles City Council members held a special meeting to investigate. During this proceeding in which attorneys were disallowed, Fonck presented a case, gave a statement and questioned witnesses.

He depicted a scenario in which Davis:

• Accepted protection money from local, Chinese gamblers
• Tipped off those individuals about upcoming raids
• Obstructed, in other ways, officers’ efforts to close gambling dens

Soon after Davis took office, in December 1885, Captain of Police C.A. Ketlar told Fonck that he (Ketlar) and Chief Davis “let them play and pay,” referring to the Chinese gamblers, and that everyone could benefit from the arrangement. The next day, Davis informed Fonck he only objected to non-Chinese people playing games of chance. Other times, various gambling club owners scoffed at Fonck’s power because the chief was “with them” (Los Angeles Herald, Nov, 14, 1886).

Fonck detailed several other situations and circumstances to prove that Davis knew gambling was happening and where. For instance, one of the chief’s rules was that no officer could raid any casino without his prior consent.

The Blue Wall Vanishes

Testimony against Fonck included:

• Ketlar charging the officer had tried to corrupt Ketlar and the chief
• A former chief saying he’d suspended him in the past for unruliness
• A second ex-chief admitting he didn’t like him as an officer

Davis , when questioned, denied all accusations and often answered he didn’t recall specific conversations and instances between him and Fonck.

“These witnesses made a sorry failure of their attempt to break down Fonck’s character. It was a noticeable feature throughout the investigation that not one of the witnesses against him could look, or tried to look, the honest old Dutchman in the eye,” reported the Los Angeles Times (Dec. 8, 1886).

The Smoking Affidavit

In early December, the Times published a statement it had held for three weeks, until after the city election. In it, fellow police officer Herbert Benedict swore to interactions with Davis that depicted his true character. Benedict came forward, not because he and Fonck were close but because he viewed him as a solid officer and believed Fonck’s job loss and Davis’ vindication had been unjust.

Benedict explained Davis had used him as a middleman to communicate with Fonck. Davis had instructed Benedict to tell Fonck that Davis would reimburse all of his lost salary since his firing if Fonck would drop the charges against him. When Fonck had refused, Davis had had Benedict try again, that time offering $100 and the promise of $200 more if Fonck would “make the evidence as light as possible” (Los Angeles Times, Dec. 8, 1886).

When council members subsequently asked Davis about the $300 bribe, he tried to explain it away by telling a convoluted story involving former chiefs and their wrongdoings.

Weak, Not Depraved

The next day, Davis resigned.

“My reasons are that I am unjustly accused or blamed for an act of mine which was done without any willful or malicious motive, and solely to benefit another person; but circumstances are such that I am without witnesses to demonstrate the truth of my assertion, and I therefore prefer to resign at, once, though perfectly conscious in my own mind, that I am innocent of any wrong, illegal or improper act, were the whole facts known,” he said (Los Angeles Herald, Dec. 9, 1886).

Subsequently, no one pursued holding him accountable for his alleged misconduct.

“Chief Davis’ troubles have arisen, it is believed, rather from weakness than from innate depravity, and there was no disposition to hound him down,” noted the Los Angeles Times (Dec. 9, 1886).

The council chose Ketlar to step in as chief until it voted in someone new.

As for Fonck, as opined in the same article, “The events of yesterday, however, vindicated his position, and palpable justice demands that he be reinstated, with pay for the time he has lost. That is a proposition which admits of no argument.”

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Photo from Wikimedia Commons

1950s

The manufacture of slot machines, roulette wheels and other gambling equipment was big business in the United States until the mid-20th century when new federal legislation curbed it.

In 1950, the Kefauver Committee, officially the U.S. Senate Special Committee to Investigate Organized Crime in Interstate Commerce, began delving into the underworld’s involvement with gambling. The group’s findings and recommendations led to Congress passing the Transportation of Gambling Devices Act, a 1951 amendment to the Johnson Act. The law:

• Banned the transport of these devices to states where gambling was illegal

• Required manufacturers/distributors of gaming equipment for interstate commerce to register annually with the federal Department of Justice

• Mandated such paraphernalia crossing state lines be marked appropriately for shipment

The act, however, allowed interstate shipment into any state that passed a subsequent law exempting it from the federal provisions. Nevada did just that. Texas, though, on the other end of the spectrum, forbade gambling device making altogether. It was the only state to do so at the time.

Serious About Enforcement

The FBI cracked down on companies violating this act, and with the help of local police, conducted raids, seized equipment and pressed charges. A judge sentenced a Mississippi man found guilty of transporting six slot machines out of state to one year and one day in a federal penitentiary, a light sentence, he said, in that the offense occurred soon after the legislation banning it had been passed.

This law enforcement pressure caused many manufacturers to close shop and others, such as B.C. Wills & Co., to move to Nevada. Then one of the country’s two major roulette makers, it relocated from Michigan to Reno in 1954.

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Roy Merrill, Maricopa County Sheriff, 1937-1938

1937-1938

Within a year of becoming the Maricopa County Attorney, John W. Corbin began work to expose the illegal gambling taking place in the Arizona region. He set his sights on busting the game operators and the public officials taking money to ignore their activities.

“Gambling houses have been running on a wide-open basis, and slot machines are being operated, unmolested, in some 700 to 1,000 spots in Maricopa County. Gambling interests pay an estimated $35,000 a month [cumulatively] to a score of persons for being ‘left alone,’” Corbin told the press (The Madera Tribune, Nov. 18, 1937). (That total amounts to about $597,000 today.)

Those allegedly accepting graft included three high-profile men in law enforcement: Sheriff Roy Merrill, Justice of the Peace Harry E. Westfall and Sheriff’s Deputy Porter Northroup.

To investigate and obtain evidence, County Attorney Corbin pretended, with public officials, that he was agreeable to and complicit in the gambler protection operation. He sought assistance from two men: George Ash, county attorney investigator, and John G. Handy, Los Angeles-based private investigator. Beginning in September 1937, Handy posed as a “John Wilson,” a middle man between the county attorney’s office and the gamblers (the game owners or operators); he was the person to contact and to pay.

Recording Of Transgressions

Handy met with and collected $3,000 ($51,000 today) from gamblers during October and November. All of the transactions were recorded via then cutting-edge equipment: a Dictaphone system that could capture audio through a wall and microphones. Handy initially worked out of a dwelling at 130 W. Adams Street in Phoenix but later moved his setup to a room in the 16-story Hotel Westward Ho at Central Avenue and Fillmore Street.

Also recorded was a conversation between Handy and Sheriff Merrill that occurred in the 1325½ W. Monroe Street apartment, Corbin having introduced Handy to Merrill as his contact. Merrill, who’d declared his anti-gambling stance during his 1936 campaign and after getting elected in ’37, discussed plans for collecting money from gamblers and named some potential targets who were slot machine operators. Merrill also said Deputy Northroup handled collecting throughout the county for the sheriff’s office.

Northroup was captured on tape telling Handy about having arranged with a specific gambling establishment owner a $1,000 a month payment to the sheriff’s office and suggested the county attorney’s office also collect the same amount.

“So dangerous did the probe become that Corbin, Wilmer, Ash and Mullen transcribed their evidence, had a number of copies made, and placed them for safekeeping in bank vaults in a number of cities between Phoenix and Chicago, it was learned,” reported the Arizona Republic (Nov. 19, 1937). (Mark Wilmer, county special prosecutor, and Ted Mullen, county investigator, also were involved in conducting the probe.)

Downtown Phoenix, Maricopa County, in the 1940s

Lawsuits, Trials, Outcomes

In November, County Attorney Corbin filed criminal complaints against 28 people, including Merrill, Westfall and Northroup, and arrests and raids were carried out. All were charged with the felonies of asking a bribe, offering a bribe and/or conspiracy to carry on gambling games.

The complaint against Judge Westfall alleged that he’d implored Corbin not to pursue criminal proceedings against the defendants who’d been operating lotteries and related devices.

By May of 1938, Corbin and Wilmer had prosecuted eight trials in the countywide gambling crackdown. Two of them were against Sheriff Merrill, who was acquitted both times. Four others resulted in hung juries. Defendants — gamblers — were found guilty in only two.

The following month, Corbin asked for and was granted dismissal of all but one of the remaining felony cases because his office believed the chance of any convictions, based on results to date, was “very remote,” he said (Arizona Republic, June 12, 1938). The charges against Justice Westfall and Sheriff’s Deputy Northroup were among those dropped.

“I want it understood I’m not quitting,” Corbin added. “I say the gambling and graft war will continue in spite of dismissal of the cases.”

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