*Warning: graphic photos included in the post.
Hollywood, a district nestled in Los Angeles, California, has become synonymous with the American film industry. Positioned to the northwest of downtown Los Angeles, it is surrounded by Hyperion Avenue and Riverside Drive to the east, Beverly Boulevard to the south, the foothills of the Santa Monica Mountains to the north, and Beverly Hills to the west. Southern California’s allure for moviemaking pioneers lies in its mild climate, abundant sunshine, varied terrain, and robust labor market, making it an idyllic destination. The inception of Hollywood traces back to 1853 when the first residential building, an abode, was constructed on a site near Los Angeles, which was then a small city in the emerging state of California.
In 1887, Harvey Wilcox, a prohibitionist from Kansas, envisioned Hollywood as a real-estate subdivision, aspiring to create a community grounded in his sober religious principles. H.J. Whitley hailed as the “father of Hollywood,” played a pivotal role in transforming the area into a prosperous and sought-after residential hub. Whitley’s influence extended to the introduction of telephone, electric, and gas lines, contributing to the suburb’s growth. In 1910, grappling with inadequate water supply, Hollywood residents voted to consolidate with Los Angeles. By 1915, Hollywood had solidified its position as the focal point of the American film industry, attracting numerous independent filmmakers who relocated from the East Coast.
However, did this era of peace and love for filmmaking in Hollywood endure? Not quite. On the ominous morning of January 15th, 1947, the tranquility of a Los Angeles neighborhood was shattered when the body of a young, naked woman was discovered. This macabre scene revealed a grisly reality – the woman had been sliced cleanly in half at the waist, lying just a few feet from the sidewalk. Intriguingly, there was an eerie absence of blood, suggesting that this horrific act didn't take place at the scene but rather at an undisclosed location.
Prompted by this shocking discovery, the Los Angeles Police Department launched an investigation, seeking assistance from the FBI to unravel the mystery behind this young woman. Remarkably, it took a mere fifty-six minutes for the FBI to identify the victim after receiving blurred fingerprints through a primitive fax machine known as "soundphoto," a tool commonly used by news services.
The victim was unveiled as Elizabeth Short, a 22-year-old Hollywood hopeful with a complex and intriguing background. Born on July 29th, 1924, in Boston, she was the third of five daughters born to Cleo Alvin Short Jr., a United States Navy Sailor with a checkered past, and Phoebe May Sawyer, a housewife. The family faced financial hardships when Cleo's investments were wiped out in the 1929 stock market crash, leading to a significant downturn in their circumstances. Cleo's response to adversity was unfortunate – in 1930, his car was found abandoned on the Charlestown Bridge, assumed to be a suicide. Phoebe, once a housewife, became a bookkeeper to support the family.
Elizabeth's health struggles were another layer to her complex narrative. Severe asthma and bronchitis prompted a lung surgery at the tender age of 15. Yet, medical professionals believed that periodic relocations to milder climates could further aid her. Consequently, Elizabeth spent three winters in Miami, Florida, with family friends.
In a surprising turn of events in late 1942, Phoebe received a letter from her presumed-deceased husband, revealing that he was alive and had begun a new life in California. Elizabeth, at 18, seized the opportunity to relocate and live with her father, whom she had not seen since she was six. However, within a month, familial tensions escalated, leading Elizabeth to move out. Despite the tumultuous start, she decided to remain in California, taking a job at the Base Exchange at Camp Cooke and residing with a U.S. Army Air Force sergeant who, sadly, abused her. Later, she moved to Santa Barbara, only to face an arrest in September 1943 for drinking at a local bar while underage. This resulted in her being sent back to Massachusetts, but Elizabeth opted to return to Florida instead, making sporadic visits to her family in Boston.
The FBI's swift identification of Elizabeth was facilitated by her fingerprint already being on file due to a prior arrest. During her time in Florida, she encountered various individuals, including a lover connected to World War II, whose tragic demise left her bereaved. In July 1946, Elizabeth returned to Los Angeles, working as a waitress while harboring aspirations of becoming a film star, although no known acting jobs were associated with her.
Enter Robert "Red" Manley, a 25-year-old married salesman, who claimed to have dropped Elizabeth off at the Biltmore Hotel in downtown Los Angeles, where she purportedly planned to meet her visiting sister from Boston.
Tragically, Elizabeth Short was found severed at the waist and drained of blood. Medical examiners discovered that she had been dead for approximately ten hours before being placed on the sidewalk, indicating her demise on the evening of January 14th or the early morning hours of January 15th. The meticulous mutilation suggested a killer with a certain level of anatomical expertise, prompting the FBI to scrutinize students at the University of Southern California medical school.
However, not only did the murderer elude identification, but the press also played a dubious role in the unfolding drama. Following Elizabeth's identification, reporters from William Randolph Hearst’s Los Angeles Examiner contacted her mother, Phoebe, in Boston, deceitfully claiming that her daughter had won a beauty contest. This ploy was designed to extract as much personal information as possible from Phoebe before revealing the tragic truth – her daughter had been brutally murdered. The Examiner continued its manipulation by offering to cover Phoebe's airfare and accommodations to Los Angeles under the guise of aiding the police investigation, all the while keeping her away from other reporters to safeguard their scoop. The misrepresentation extended further when the Examiner and another Hearst newspaper described the black tailored suit Elizabeth was last seen wearing, leading the press to dub her the "Black Dahlia."
Despite the sensationalized nickname, the case gradually faded from public attention, turning into a cold one by the spring. However, in September 1949, a grand jury convened to address inadequacies in the LAPD's homicide unit, citing failures to solve numerous murders, including Elizabeth Short's. Despite the renewed interest, further investigations into Elizabeth's past and interviews with acquaintances in various locations yielded no breakthroughs.
The oscillating public attention on the case prompts intriguing questions about the underbelly of Hollywood's glamorous facade. Could there have been a deliberate effort to downplay the case and shield Hollywood from negative publicity? Does Hollywood truly epitomize a dazzling haven, or is it a place where dreams can be shattered in an instant, casting a shadow over its glittering exterior?
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