Jane Vivian Kelton (Gans): 1878-1912: Notable Stock Company Actress Who Died Following Surgery

Jane Kelton glamour headshot

Jane "Jenny" Kelton was a popular West Coast stage actress of the early 20th century, best known for her leading roles in the repertory circuits of California, Oregon, Washington and British Columbia. A “stock actress” — meaning a performer who was part of a permanent theater company that presented a rotating schedule of plays — Kelton was celebrated for her versatility and emotional range in major dramatic roles of her era, including Zaza, A Doll’s House, and Sapho.

Jane Kelton Gravestone

Kelton began her theatrical career in California, where she quickly won audiences with her expressive performances and powerful stage presence. She appeared as the leading lady at prominent venues such as Ye Liberty Theatre in Oakland and the Alisky Theatre in Sacramento. In 1905, she performed with distinction in The Light Eternal and appeared in a charity vaudeville production in Berkeley titled The Evolution of an Advertisement, in which she played both a French opera singer and a Geisha girl — showcasing the versatility that would become her hallmark.

Known for her sincerity and grace, Kelton’s portrayals of emotionally demanding characters made her one of the most respected actresses in the West Coast stock circuit. Stock companies, like those she joined, were resident troupes that performed a new play every week or two, relying on a stable of well-rehearsed actors capable of switching rapidly between leading and supporting roles.

Jane Kelton from Lyceum Theater production

In 1909, Kelton made national headlines when she married fellow actor Del Lawrence (Gans), her stage partner and leading man in the Del Lawrence Stock Company. The couple’s romantic partnership had flourished on stage, but their real-life union was overshadowed by legal complications. Just days after their June 13 wedding in Portland, Oregon, it emerged that Kelton’s divorce from her first husband, Arthur Guerin, had not yet received its final decree.

Under California law, a divorce was not final until a specific waiting period had elapsed — meaning that Kelton’s remarriage technically rendered her a bigamist. Newspapers across the Western United States, including The San Francisco Call, covered the scandal in sensational detail, dubbing her a “technical bigamist.” Both Kelton and Lawrence insisted they had relied on mistaken legal advice and acted in good faith. The district attorney declined to prosecute, accepting that the marriage had been entered into “unknowingly and without malice.” Lawrence publicly vowed to remarry Kelton once the decree was official, and the couple continued their theatrical partnership.

Ad for Jane Kelton performance

Following the controversy, the couple continued performing together, moving northward with their company to engagements in Vancouver and other Pacific Coast cities. Kelton’s acting was praised for its emotional depth — especially in French dramas like Sapho, where critics noted her ability to project passion and pathos without artifice.

Tragically, Jane Kelton’s career was cut short when she died in Vancouver, British Columbia, in January 1912. According to reports from the Bakersfield Californian and the Bonners Ferry Herald, she underwent surgery for the removal of a tumor and succumbed to complications a week later. She was remembered as “one of the best known stock actresses on the Pacific Coast.”

Newspaper Death Announcement

Her brother Edward Kelton was also and actor, leading troupe of vaudeville performers. Her mother, Jennie Kelton, often defended her daughter publicly during the press attention surrounding her first marriage. 

Sources: University of Washington - Special Collections; Seattle Star; San Francisco Call; Walla Walla Evening Statesman; Bakersfield Californian; Los Angeles Herald; Salt Lake Telegram; Tacoma Times; Spokane Press; Find a Grave; Ancestry.com 

Dorothy Toy (1917-2019): Dancer Who Broke Racial Barriers

Dorothy Toy and Paul Wing

Plot 72

If you had asked Dorothy Toy late in life how she’d like to be remembered, she might have simply said, “as a dancer.” But what she accomplished—alongside her stage partner Paul Wing—was far more than dance. Together, the duo known as Toy & Wing broke racial barriers, dazzled audiences across America, and paved the way for Asian American artists on the national stage.

Dorothy Toy was born Shigeko Takahashi in San Francisco on May 28, 1917, to Japanese immigrant parents. When her family later moved to Los Angeles, they opened a small café near a vaudeville theater in Little Tokyo. There, young Dorothy caught the attention of a theater manager who noticed her dancing and encouraged formal lessons. She soon trained in ballet, tap, jazz, and even Cossack dance—an eclectic foundation that would define her versatile stage style.

Performing first with her sister Helen and Chinese American dancer Paul Wing Jew, the trio became known as The Three Mahjongs. When Helen pursued her own path, Dorothy and Paul continued as Toy & Wing—a sleek, high-energy dance act that combined precision tap with ballroom flair.  

Dorothy Toy and Paul Wing

By the mid-1930s, Toy & Wing were performing nationwide in vaudeville theaters, on Broadway stages, and in nightclubs. They appeared in films such as Deviled Ham and headlined at San Francisco’s legendary Forbidden City, the most famous of the “Chop Suey Circuit” nightclubs that showcased Asian American talent to mainstream audiences.

Promoters billed them as “The Chinese Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers”—a catchy, if inaccurate, label that ignored Dorothy’s Japanese heritage but reflected the racial marketing of the era. Their dancing, however, needed no gimmick. Toy & Wing’s routines blended tap, swing, and acrobatic lifts with dazzling synchronization, earning praise for both technical skill and charisma.  

The outbreak of World War II changed everything. After Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor, Dorothy’s ancestry suddenly made her a target of suspicion. Her parents and relatives were sent to the Topaz internment camp in Utah under Executive Order 9066. Dorothy herself avoided incarceration because she was touring on the East Coast, but prejudice followed her. At least one rival performer “outed” her as Japanese, costing her film opportunities.

Meanwhile, Paul Wing was drafted into the U.S. Army and took part in the Normandy landings in 1944. The war temporarily ended their act, but they reunited in the postwar years and continued performing across the country, earning admiration for both their artistry and resilience. 

In later decades, Dorothy settled in Oakland, California, where she transitioned from performer to teacher. She ran a studio in her Oakland home—known locally as Studio 653—where she taught ballet and tap to generations of young dancers. Even in her later years, she remained active in the Bay Area performing arts community, mentoring troupes like the Grant Avenue Follies, an Asian American dance ensemble that continues to honor her legacy. 

Dorothy Toy's gravemarker

Dorothy Toy passed away in Oakland on July 10, 2019, at the remarkable age of 102.  

Dorothy Toy and Paul Wing hold a unique place in American entertainment history. They were among the first Asian Americans to be recognized nationally as serious dancers rather than exotic novelties. Their performances defied stereotypes and demonstrated that Asian Americans could command the same stages as their white contemporaries—on pure talent and artistry.

Dorothy’s papers, now archived at Stanford University, reveal a life of relentless creativity—filled with choreography notes, tour itineraries, and costume sketches. Her story has been preserved through documentaries like Dancing Through Life: The Dorothy Toy Story (2017) and celebrated in retrospectives about the “Chop Suey Circuit.” 

Sources: Encyclopedia Densho, Wikipedia, Smithsonian Magazine, Rafu Shimpo, StoryCorps, Stanford University Library, JoySauce, Asian American Theatre Revue.

Thomas Nocke (1873-1906) & Sadie West (1872-1906): Vaudeville Team Killed in 1906 San Francisco Earthquake

Only known photos of Thomas Nocke & Sadie West

STRANGER'S PLOT - #1136

When the great San Francisco earthquake struck at 5:12 a.m. on April 18, 1906, thousands of lives were instantly altered or lost. Among the victims were two traveling vaudevillians—Thomas L. P. Nocke and Sadie West, known on stage as “The Marneys.” Their story, preserved in scattered newspaper accounts, offers a poignant glimpse into the fragile life of itinerant entertainers at the turn of the 20th century.

Thomas L. P. Nocke was a Newark, New Jersey–based actor who performed under several stage names, including Louis Marney and Louis Parvo. Before his Western tour, he lived with his wife and four children in Newark, N.J. earning modest fame on the vaudeville circuit for light comic sketches and musical routines. His stage partner was Miss Sadie West, an actress and singer who frequently toured with him as the female half of The Marneys.

"The Marneys" on Destroyed Marquee of Empire Theater (photo Thomas Estey, Oakland Public Library)

The pair’s Western trip seemed cursed from the start. According to reports in the Los Angeles Herald and East Coast papers, Nocke narrowly escaped death in a train tunnel collapse during the journey west. Later, a fire destroyed a boat carrying the troupe’s costumes and stage props, delaying their tour for weeks. Yet, ever resilient, Nocke and West pressed on, finally booking an engagement at Oakland’s Empire Theatre at 12th & Broadway, beginning April 17, 1906—just one day before the earthquake. [Some accounts incorrectly list the Empire Theatre in San Francisco].

The early-morning quake and ensuing fire destroyed much of downtown San Francisco and other parts of the Bay Area. Telegrams sent back East reported that both performers were killed in the catastrophe when the roof of the theatre collapsed. The Newark Evening News noted that Nocke’s brother-in-law, Edwin Musselman—also an actor touring in California—sent word confirming the tragedy. 

Amalia Wicher

Most of the surviving account of their final moments only mention that three other people were killed who were traveling with the couple when the roof of the theatre collapsed. However, a May 12, 1906 issue of the New York Clipper mentions that The Three Wichers, a performing troupe who traveled with Nocke were also killed. They included Otto Wicher, his 13-year-old daughter Amalia (aka Edith) and a third unidentified person (presumably his wife). They were buried in the Stranger's Plot along with Thomas Nocke and Sadie West.

Oakland also sustained significant damage during the 1906 earthquake, including brick structures and water mains. Among the destroyed buildings was the Macdonough Theatre, located two blocks away at14th & Broadway, as well as the Albany Hotel, First Baptist Church, Prescott School and the 12th Street Dam.

Interior Damage of Empire Theatre (photo: Huntington Library)

Back home in Newark, Nocke’s family awaited news that never brought comfort. The Arlington Advertiser reported that the family initially refused to believe the telegram’s grim contents, hoping against hope that the actor might have escaped the flames. Sadly, later confirmations from an Oakland undertaker ended that hope. The same reports describe Nocke as “a man of good humor and courage, whose luck had run tragically out.”

With their deaths, The Marneys became two of countless anonymous artists who perished in one of America’s greatest natural disasters. Little remains of their work, but the few lines in old newspapers still testify to the vitality of a pair of performers who brought laughter to small-town stages across the country before meeting their fate on the biggest stage of all: the 1906 San Francisco earthquake.

Little is known of Sadie West. 

Famously, the legendary Italian tenor Enrico Caruso, who was staying at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco when the quake struck escaped the disaster. The night before the quake, Caruso performed the role of Don José in Bizet’s Carmen at the Grand Opera House in San Francisco. 

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Sources: Los Angeles Herald, April 29 1906; Newark Evening News, April 1906; Arlington Advertiser, April 1906; contemporary wire dispatches preserved in newspaper archives; New York Times; Oakland Public Library; Huntington Library; Find a Grave; Ancestry.com; New York Clipper

Francisco Gonzales (1937–1964): 1960 Olympian who caused fatal plane crash killing 44 people

Born in Manila in 1937, Francisco Paula Gonzales once carried the promise of an accomplished seaman and even Olympian: he represented the Philippines in the 1960 Summer Olympics’ Dragon sailing event. But by 1964, he had morphed into the perpetrator of one of the most grim chapters in American aviation history.

On May 7, 1964, Gonzales boarded Pacific Air Lines Flight 773 en route from Reno to San Francisco, seated just behind the cockpit. During the flight, he drew a .357 Magnum revolver and shot both the captain and first officer, leaving the aircraft uncontrollable. He then turned the weapon on himself, ending his life midair. On a final cockpit recording, pilot Ernest Clark can be heard saying, "I've been shot! Oh my God, help."

Flight 773 crashed into a rural hillside in southern Contra Costa County, roughly five miles east of what is now the city of San Ramon. 

Headline from the Billings Gazette

The resulting crash claimed the lives of all 44 aboard—passengers and crew alike—making it one of the deadliest acts of mass murder on California soil, and one of the earliest known cases of a passenger executing a cockpit attack in U.S. commercial aviation. 

In the years since, the incident has been held up as a chilling early warning that passenger violence could bring down an airliner, spurring subsequent changes to cockpit security procedures. Civil air regulation amendments became effective on August 6, 1964, that required that doors separating the passenger cabin from the crew compartment on all scheduled air carrier and commercial aircraft must be kept locked in flight. 

Gonzales’s trajectory—from Olympic sailor to mass murderer—is a stark reminder that behind public achievements can lie hidden turmoil: he had reportedly been under severe financial strain, faced marital dissolution, and had in prior days brandished his weapon to acquaintances while intimating an intention to die. His family said that he has making frequent trip to Reno where he had accrued large gambling debts. 

Gonzalez was living in San Francisco and working at a department store warehouse at the time of the incident. 

Sources: Phoenix Daily Gazette, Find a Grave, Wikipedia, Billings Gazette, Civil Aeronautics Board accident report on Pacific Air Lines Flight 773, Humboldt Times, Bureau of Aircraft Accidents Archives

Horace Seaton (1842-1889): Protégé of a Railroad Baron; Struck Down in His Prime

Seaton Grave and Death Notice

Plot 28, Lot 13

When Horace Seaton died suddenly in Oakland in October 1889 at only forty-six years old, he left behind one of the largest fortunes in the city—an estate valued between $350,000 and $1 million at the time. In 2025 dollars, that is the equivalent of $12–35 million, a staggering sum that marked him as one of Oakland’s wealthiest citizens. His rise from a young clerk in Sacramento to a “capitalist” whose name was synonymous with landed wealth was fueled by a family connection to one of the most powerful men in California history: Collis P. Huntington.

Born in Hartford, Connecticut in 1842, Seaton was still in his early twenties when he came west. He had a powerful ally waiting: his aunt had been the first wife of Collis Potter Huntington, one of the famed “Big Four” who built the Central Pacific Railroad (along with Leland Stanford, Mark Hopkins, and Charles Crocker). Huntington was not only a railroad tycoon but also a political deal-maker, and his patronage gave Seaton entrée into circles of power that few young men could have imagined.

House of Huntington, Hopkins Co. in San Francisco and Sacramento

Seaton began his California career with Huntington, Hopkins & Co., the mercantile firm in Sacramento that outfitted miners and settlers. Ambitious and clever, he rose from clerk to partner before cashing out his share and turning to real estate speculation. That pivot proved shrewd: over the next two decades he amassed holdings across California and in West Virginia, with vast tracts of land and a mansion in Oakland that had once belonged to Dr. H. S. Glenn, a wealthy land baron.

Glenn’s house had a curious reputation in Oakland lore. After Glenn’s murder in 1883, neighbors whispered that the mansion was haunted—strange noises and unexplained occurrences reportedly plagued the property. By the time Seaton bought it, the house was already tinged with a sense of foreboding, making his own early death all the more chilling in retrospect. Two other owners also met early demises. 

Seaton married and had three children—Willard, Scott, and Etta May (later Mrs. R. P. Hoe of Cincinnati). He was active in civic life, a Mason, an Odd Fellow, and a Knight Templar. But in the summer of 1889, his health collapsed. A paralytic stroke left him weakened, and within weeks, rheumatic gout carried him off.

His estate was divided between his widow and children, his fortune transformed into trusts and real estate holdings.

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Sources: Oakland Tribune (Oct. 24, 1889); Sacramento Daily Record-Union (Dec. 5, 1885; Oct. 26 & 28, 1889); newspaper obituaries and estate notices; Find a Grave; Grave photo by Michael Colbruno; LocalWiki

 

Lloyd Sampsel (1900-1952): "The Yacht Bandit" Who Topped FBI's "Most Wanted" List

Booking photo with name misspelled

He was once described in society pages as a "charming, debonair yachtsman" — until the headlines darkened, and Lloyd Edison Sampsel became one of America’s most notorious criminals. Known to the press as the “Yacht Bandit,” Sampsel’s crime spree, prison scandals, and final gas-chamber fate made him a legend of infamy on both coasts.

Sampsel’s first foray into crime came in the late 1920s, when he began a series of audacious robberies that quickly distinguished him from ordinary thieves. His exploits gained national attention when he and his gang targeted the floating gambling dens that dotted the California coast. These “gambling ships” lay in international waters off Los Angeles, beyond the reach of state law, and attracted wealthy patrons looking for high-stakes games and free-flowing liquor.

Oakland Tribune

Sampsel and his crew not only robbed the ships but cleverly used a yacht as their base of operations. Newspapers dubbed him the “Yacht Bandit,” and the name stuck, branding him with a mix of glamour and menace that followed him for decades. At a time when America thrilled to stories of gangsters like John Dillinger and “Machine Gun” Kelly, Sampsel carved out his own West Coast legend.

The law eventually caught up with Sampsel, and by the early 1930s he found himself serving time in Folsom Prison. But confinement only added to his notoriety. In 1943, while supposedly serving a life sentence, Sampsel managed to arrange a series of illicit conjugal visits with his wife in San Francisco, aided by bribed guards. When the scandal broke, it triggered a major investigation into corruption at Folsom, further cementing his reputation as both cunning and dangerous.

Prison Photo and New Article

Even prison walls could not contain the myth of the “Yacht Bandit.” He cultivated a debonair image that contrasted sharply with the violence of his crimes, a contradiction that fascinated reporters and the public alike.

Released on parole after years in prison, Sampsel wasted no time in returning to crime. In 1948, during a bank robbery in Chula Vista, near San Diego, he killed a man. The act elevated him from an infamous robber to a convicted murderer, and law enforcement now regarded him as one of the most dangerous men in America.

Headline in Brainerd Daily Dispatch

 By 1949, the FBI placed him on its “Most Wanted” list, calling him “the West’s No. 1 bandit.” The man once described as a charming yachtsman had become a symbol of unrepentant criminality.

Sampsel’s luck finally ran out when he was captured and brought to trial for the Chula Vista killing. The proceedings drew wide attention, with the press relishing every detail of the once-glamorous outlaw brought low. He was convicted and sentenced to death.

 In his book, "The San Quentin Story,"  Warden Clinton Duffy wrote:

At his trial Sampsel dumfounded the prosecutor and his own attorney with an extraordinary monologue in which he recounted all the sordid facets of his life, his various prison terms, and all his crimes. It was a suicidal oration, and the jury had no choice. “It appears to the court,” the trial judge said, “that the defendant, in testifying on his own behalf, was somewhat of an egotist, and in his desire to tell of his past exploits testified to things that would not have been shown against him.” He was convicted and sentenced to death—a penalty he must have wanted for himself. 

On April 25, 1952, Lloyd Edison Sampsel was executed in the gas chamber at San Quentin Prison. He was 52 years old. The “Yacht Bandit,” who had spent most of his adult life behind bars or on the run, died as he had lived—surrounded by headlines.

Before his death, Sampsel wrote a 36-page manuscript entitled "Thirty Day to Live," which he mailed to his then 75-year-old father. There is no evidence that it was ever published or made public.

Despite his life of crime, Sampsel’s family remained connected to him to the end. His father, then a retired restaurateur, arranged for funeral services.

Sources: Los Angeles Times (May 3, 1952; Apr. 21, 2002); California Death Records; Washington Birth Index; World War I Draft Registration Card (1918); California Prison and Correctional Records; Find a Grave; Oakland Tribune; Richmond Record Herald; Berkeley Daily Gazette; Brainerd Daily Dispatch; "The San Quentin Story"  by Warden Clinton Duffy

Colonel David L. Smoot (1835-1900): From Confederate Leader to San Francisco District Attorney

Smoot Family Gravestone

Plot 37

David Lowe Smoot was born in Alexandria, Virginia, in 1835 and rose to prominence during the Civil War as a Confederate officer. He commanded a regiment in the Virginia artillery and earned the honorific “Colonel,” by which he was known the rest of his life. Like many Southern men of his generation, Smoot’s loyalties during the war would forever mark his public reputation.

One telling episode occurred when Smoot and a companion attempted to run the Union blockade with a cargo of whiskey aboard the sloop Bonita. Intercepted by the U.S. steamer Eureka while making for Maddox Creek, Virginia, they tried to throw their cargo overboard before capture. Both men were arrested and lodged in Washington’s Old Capitol Prison.

Wool Cap made by Smoot while POW

After the war, Smoot resumed his legal career in Virginia, but in July 1876 he and his family left Alexandria for San Francisco. The Alexandria Gazette reported his departure with regret, describing him as “a gentleman of much popularity and legal ability.” Once in California, Smoot quickly integrated into the Bay Area’s legal community. Within three years he had been elected District Attorney of San Francisco (1880–1882), the office responsible for prosecuting criminal cases. While his term produced no landmark trials remembered today, his election underscored the respect he had won in his adopted city despite his Confederate past.

Following his time as DA, Smoot moved across the Bay to Oakland, where he practiced law until the 1890s. He later retired to Hayward, but remained active in fraternal and civic circles, particularly the Masons. He died in February 1900 at the age of 65 at the East Oakland home of his son-in-law Benjamin Harvey. 

Smoot never publicly renounced his Confederate allegiance, at least in the records that survive, and his life presents a striking contrast: a onetime Confederate colonel captured smuggling whiskey through a blockade, later serving as the elected chief prosecutor of San Francisco. Today, he is remembered less for any enduring legal legacy than as an emblem of how former Confederates remade their lives far from the South in the decades after the Civil War.

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Sources: San Francisco Call, Feb. 12–13, 1900; Alexandria Gazette, July 31, 1876; Virginia Chronicle notice re: capture of the sloop Bonita; SeekingMyRoots genealogy files, Oakland Tribune, Find a Grave

Anson Barstow (1831-1906): Oakland Businessman and Mayor

 

Barstow obituary and Family Plot

Plot 35, Lot 34

Anson Barstow was born on November 29, 1831, in Haverhill, New Hampshire, and like many young men of his generation, was lured westward by the California Gold Rush. He made the long journey around Cape Horn in 1849, arriving in San Francisco the following year. Barstow spent his early years mining, and by all accounts, his ventures met with success. After a period back in New Hampshire, where he married Sarah S. Barstow, he returned permanently to California in the 1860s and soon took up a federal appointment as Collector of Customs, later serving as general weigher under General J. L. Abbot.

Drawn by Oakland’s promise, Barstow settled there in 1870 and established both his home and business life. By 1873, he had entered the city’s thriving grain and fuel markets, founding several partnerships over the decades. The firm Sarpy & Barstow, based on 11th Street, dealt in flour, hay, and feed. Later, he co-founded Barstow & Babbitt with Salmon M. Babbitt, operating from the corner of 13th and Franklin Streets, selling hay, grain, coal, and wood. Barstow also worked under the banner of Barstow & Garber before ultimately consolidating his operations into a successful coal and wood yard that supplied a rapidly growing Oakland. He conducted this business for nearly thirty years before transferring it in 1902 to Charles A. Harlow, a longtime associate, marking his retirement from commerce.

Barstow’s reputation as a solid businessman helped propel him into politics. He was first elected to the Oakland City Council in 1893, representing the Fifth Ward, and later won an at-large seat. During his second term he served as president of the council. In 1901, he was elected Mayor of Oakland in a close five-way race, presiding over the city during a period of rapid change. As mayor, he was also Commissioner of Public Works and became known for his attention to infrastructure and fiscal caution. He vetoed a proposed fifty-year telephone franchise in 1902, arguing it would unduly burden Oakland’s streets and tie the city to inflexible terms. His civic prominence also placed him at the forefront of major events, such as welcoming President William McKinley during his visit to Oakland in May 1901.

Personally, Barstow was known as a man of steady habits and deep faith, active in the First Presbyterian Church. On February 5, 1906, after a brief illness complicated by apoplexy, Anson Barstow died at his home at the age of seventy-four. His funeral drew many civic leaders, including Mayor Frank K. Mott and other prominent Oaklanders who served as pallbearers. 

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Sources: Oakland Tribune (March 11, 1899); Oakland Tribune (Nov. 12, 1902); San Francisco Call (Feb. 6, 1906); LocalWiki Oakland – “Anson Barstow”; Wikipedia – “List of Mayors of Oakland, California”, Find a Grave

Orville Caldwell (1896-1967): Actor and Racist Deputy L.A. Mayor

Orville Caldwell and Grave marker

Urn Garden, Grave 30

Orville Robert Caldwell (1896–1967) lived a life that bridged the glamour of silent-era Hollywood and the gritty realities of mid-century Los Angeles politics. Born in Oakland, California, in 1896, Caldwell grew up in the Bay Area before making his way to Hollywood in the 1920s, where he carved out a modest but memorable career as a leading man in silent films.

Caldwell’s Hollywood career spanned from 1923 to 1938, encompassing more than twenty films. He first appeared in titles such as The Scarlet Lily (1923) and The French Doll (1923), which showcased him as a tall, handsome figure well-suited for the romantic and dramatic roles of the era. His most celebrated performance came in King Vidor’s 1928 comedy The Patsy, where he played Tony opposite Marion Davies. He also starred as David Langston in The Harvester (1927), a film adapted from Gene Stratton-Porter’s popular novel. Other projects, like Sackcloth and Scarlet (1925), further added to his résumé, though many of these films are now lost, leaving only reviews and promotional materials to attest to his work. As sound pictures rose to dominance, Caldwell’s opportunities diminished. By the 1930s his screen appearances were largely reduced to uncredited bit parts, such as inspectors, wardens, or political figures—roles that in hindsight foreshadowed his later career outside the screen.

Caldwell Hollywood headshot

When acting no longer offered stability, Caldwell shifted into public service. In 1942, he became Los Angeles’s first Deputy Mayor, a position he held until 1951. His tenure coincided with a period of enormous change in the city, as Los Angeles became a wartime hub and postwar magnet for new residents. Yet Caldwell’s political career was deeply marked by his regressive views on race. He openly opposed the migration of African Americans into California, at one point suggesting a ban on Black migration to the state. He expressed disdain for “Bronzeville,” a name used for predominantly African American neighborhoods, and he toured Los Angeles’s Little Tokyo district during the war years, commenting unfavorably on the African American residents who had moved into the vacated Japanese American community. These remarks reflected not just Caldwell’s personal prejudices but also the broader municipal culture of segregation, restrictive housing policies, and exclusionary practices that shaped Los Angeles politics in the mid-twentieth century.

Caldwell movie poster

After leaving public service, he retired quietly and spent his final years away from the spotlight. He died in Santa Rosa, California, in 1967, leaving behind a fragmented cinematic legacy and a controversial political record that continues to draw the attention of historians.

Sources: Wikipedia; IMDb; Silent Film Festival program notes; LA City Limits: African American Los Angeles from the Great Depression to the Present (Josh Sides, University of California Press, 2003), Find a Grave

Washburne Royal Andrus (1841-1895): Anti-Chinese Oakland Mayor

Andrus Family Plot

Plot 13, Lot 28

Washburne Royal Andrus was a two-term mayor of Oakland during a turbulent period in the city’s history, remembered both for his populist rise to office and his deeply prejudiced views toward Chinese immigrants. Born in Farmington, Connecticut, in 1841, Andrus came west to California in 1873. He became connected with the San Francisco Manufacturing Company, establishing himself in business before moving into politics.

By the late 1870s, Oakland was experiencing rapid population growth, expanding from 10,000 residents to more than 40,000 in a single decade. At the same time, economic pressures and xenophobic sentiment gave rise to the Workingmen’s Party, a populist, labor-oriented movement that found fertile ground in Oakland. Andrus was elected mayor in 1878 on that party’s platform, which was explicitly built on opposition to Chinese immigration. He won reelection, defeating D.W. Standefer, who had backing from both the Republican and Democratic parties.

Workingman's Party poster

As mayor, Andrus was noted for signing an ordinance authorizing lawsuits over Oakland’s waterfront, a measure so controversial that he was reportedly offered $8,000 to veto it—an offer he declined. He also pressed for stronger fiscal restraint, warning that Oakland risked a financial “derangement” if the city council continued to overspend.

Nearly a century after his mayoralty, a handwritten “state of the city” address by Andrus, composed in 1879, was rediscovered in a City Hall cabinet. Spanning 52 pages, the address revealed both the challenges and the prejudices of Oakland leadership at the time. Andrus warned of a looming budget deficit, urged expansion of the police force from 22 to 30 officers, and cautioned against political favoritism in hiring. He also expressed frustration over alleged corruption in school affairs, including the rumored sale of examination questions and questionable contracting practices.

On crime, Andrus portrayed Oakland as unusually safe, noting that most offenses were petty in nature and that the extension of gas lamps into remote parts of the city had virtually eliminated highway robberies. He also sketched the qualities he believed essential for law enforcement officers: temperate habits, tact, shrewd judgment, and a gentlemanly demeanor.

The same rediscovered address also laid bare Andrus’s anti-Chinese stance. Reflecting the platform of the Workingmen’s Party, he railed against “the swarm of Chinese vegetable peddlers who infest the city.” His rhetoric mirrored widespread anti-Chinese agitation in California during the late 19th century, which culminated in the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. While Andrus saw the presence of Chinese immigrants as a civic threat, later Oakland leaders would acknowledge both the racial bias of his remarks and the resilience of the Chinese community. In 1975, then-Mayor John H. Reading contrasted Andrus’s words with historical reality, noting that “the passage of years has shown the Chinese to be the most stable of any of our ethnic populations.”

After leaving office, Andrus was appointed secretary of the Board of Railroad Commissioners in 1880, a post he held until 1887. His personal health, however, steadily declined. Around 1889, his eyesight failed, forcing him to retire from business. In December 1894, he suffered a paralytic stroke and became bedridden until his death on June 7, 1895. He was cared for by his wife, whom he had married in 1886.

San Francisco Mayor Ed Lee and Oakland Mayor Jean Quan (Atlantic magazine)

In 2010, 132 years after Washburne Royal Andrus first held the office in 1878, Jean Quan was elected mayor of Oakland. Her victory marked a watershed moment, as she became Oakland’s first Asian American mayor, serving at the same time Ed Lee became San Francisco’s first Asian American mayor. Together their service maked a turning point in Bay Area politics toward greater inclusion. That milestone resonates especially in light of the exclusionary sentiments voiced by 19th-century civic figures like Andrus, who publicly railed against Chinese immigrants. 

Beyond her role in political history, Quan is also a serious history buff: she is known to join docent-led tours at Mountain View Cemetery, where she engages with the stories and legacies of Oakland’s past on a personal level. She shares much of this history on her own social media.

Sources: Olathe Daily News, San Francisco Call, Oakland Tribune, Find a Grave, Wikipedia, Atlantic magazine