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