Almost literally to the very end, Diane Wells denied she had had an affair with Johnny Warren.

She and Warren had been charged with the murder of her husband Cecil, and there were obvious reasons she wanted to distance herself from that allegation. It was 1953 Jim Crow America, and the press salivated over a liaison between a white woman and a black man, both of whom were married – Diane the fifth, much younger wife of a rich businessman, and Warren to a pregnant white woman.

Fairbanks US Attorney Ted Stevens – and the Fairbanks PD and the FBI – focused on the idea of a lover’s conspiracy, and Diane knew that Warren had some rather innocent “love letters” she had sent him. She also knew Cecil’s family had hired two off-duty Seattle police detectives to look into the case, and run lie detector tests on Warren.

She was already being harshly judged in print, and Warren would have been even more aware of the situation: he had tried to avoid extradition back to Alaska because of what he called a “wave of prejudice” against him. Both were concerned about the trial, which was potentially a death penalty case.

So, Diane vehemently denied any “intimate relations” with Warren, even when he gave a detailed statement to police in Oakland, California, inferring that it was she who first “gave him the eye.”

It’s common in high-profile criminal cases for opposing legal teams to have their clients, or even themselves, speak exclusively to reporters to get their version of events out there, and to hopefully influence potential members of the upcoming jury.

When I was looking though the archives at the Main Library in San Francisco, I came across a San Francisco Examiner article from November 8, 1953 billed as an exclusive with Walter Sczudlo, Diane’s lawyer in Fairbanks.

Alaska Widow Admits ‘Seeing’ Jazz Drummer ran the headline, though it quickly noted that Diane had insisted she was never intimate with Warren, despite his statement about their “love trysts.”

Sczudlo explained that Diane told him she met Warren in her apartment (at the Northward Building) only once, after he had insisted on seeing her. She thought he was friend of Cecil, but when she found out he was not, sent him away.

“When Warren arrived, she was surprised to see who it was,” he said, explaining that Warren had told Diane he was “having marital difficulties.” This must have changed her mind about him, though their several further meetings were “almost always in public,” Sczudlo noted. Note that he said “almost always.”

“To show you there is nothing to this,” Sczudlo further revealed that Clara Warren had told friends about her husband demanding Diane’s help as part of a plan to make her jealous. It didn’t seem to have worked, and Clara told reporters she was going to stand by her husband.

But “demanded help”? Was that particular word used by Sczudlo to hint that Warren could be an aggressive, even violent man?

The Examiner reporter asked Sczudlo about Diane being released on bail despite facing a murder charge – as Warren had also been, due to a legal quirk of Alaska then being a US territory. He however replied: “They let her go because they haven’t enough evidence against her.” 

The article of course featured an overview of the investigation, Sczudlo saying “bitterly” that “the police here don’t seem to be making any further investigation,” regarding Diane’s statement that two men had broken into the apartment, assaulting her and killing Cecil.

Sczudlo finished by saying that Diane had told him that she and Cecil were happily married and she had no idea who might have killed him, but that she would find out “if it took the rest of my life.”

Sadly, that life ended just a few months later, and there was a confession of sorts – at least to the affair – in one of the notes Diane left:

“For one thing — I am guilty too, for ever seeing Warren, if Warren is guilty. One thing for sure is Cecil is dead, and I must be the cause of it, one way or another.”

January 15, 1922 – March 9, 1954

I’m interviewed by NPR Alaska for their “Hometown Alaska” show about Walt Disney’s visit to Alaska in 1947 – and how it was connected to the scandalous Cecil Wells murder! https://alaskapublic.org/programs/hometown-alaska/2026-03-09/hidden-histories-and-strange-stories-from-ak-hometown-alaska

One of the fun things I found out when I was scouring the San Francisco newspaper archives on my recent trip there was that, according to a report in the Chronicle of November 5, 1953, Johnny was temporarily working as a drummer at Slim Jenkins’ Supper Club on 7th Street in West Oakland. Jenkins was quite the legend in Oakland, and there’s more info about him here and here – he seems a very cool guy!

Johnny worked there for only a few weeks at best, as he was extradited back to Fairbanks at the end of November.

Believe it or not, back in 1947 Cecil Wells and his then-wife Ethel were charged with showing Walt Disney and his daughter Sharon (11) around Fairbanks. Disney was in Alaska for work and business, and there’s a picture of him and Cecil – it’s in the book of course – but I investigated this story in depth recently for Alaskan History Magazine, and it’s in the current issue. https://alaskanhistorymagazine.com/current-issue/

FOUND! When I was in San Francisco recently I looked in the library as the archives of the SF Examiner, and found this very interesting story from Nov 15, 1953. It mentions the polygraph machine (or lie detector) that Oakland Police had recently bought, yet was so far unused – including for Johnny Warren’s examination which * NEW INFO * happened at Berkeley.

The green-colored Keeler polygraph machine belongs to the Baltimore PD, and is dated 1955. The one underneath that is from 1963 – it was used to interrogate Jack Ruby, the man who shot Lee Harvey Oswald in the wake of the assassination of JFK.

When I was compiling a YouTube music playlist for The Alaskan Blonde, I included some of the chart hits from the time (Oct 1953 to March 1954 or so). Perhaps understandably, the #1 hit the week of Valentine’s Day in 1954 was “Secret Love” by Doris Day.

It first hit the radio a couple of weeks after Cecil’s murder, and I’m sure this headline writer from the San Francisco Chronicle had heard it (below). And of course Diane left behind a scrappy Valentine’s note behind before her suicide too, which gives the song a tragic feel….

https://museemecanique.com is an absolute must-visit if you’re in San Francisco. It’s full of vintage games, amusements, curiosities and penny arcade games. They have a mind-boggling selection – Wurlitzers, pianos, a Violana Virtuosa, shooting games, love meters, viewing machines of the 1906 earthquake, intricate model farms, cowboy towns, ferris wheels made from toothpicks by San Quentin prisoners – and some classic arcade games too, like Star Wars. Go in, get $10 or $20 converted into quarters (most of them are only 25c or 50c), and drop coins into whatever takes your fancy – including their famous “Laughin’ Sal” – it’s wild!

A number of the vintage games certainly wouldn’t get made today, including the ones that featured small costumed model figures in castles and prisons – and showed an execution!

Also, one of the viewing machines was especially interesting: it showed photographs from the trial of William Edward Hickman – known as “The Fox” – who kidnapped Marion Parker in Los Angeles in 1927. The case was a sensation at the time, and still one of the most notorious in SoCal history – read about it here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder_of_Marion_Parker

In part due to the 1906 earthquake/fires, San Francisco was massively rebuilt – and as such it has many, many ghost signs around. These are just a few I found – both old and new – and there’s an amazing site to find many more at: https://sfghostsigns.com/

I was in San Francisco the other week doing some research for an article, visiting a long-time editor friend, some family, and looking around the city for some stories and ideas. I found plenty – including a big surprise: this microbrewery/restaurant/hotel called Bartlett Hall.

https://www.bartletthall.com/

Bartlett Hall is located just off Union Square at 242 O’Farrell Street, and at least by 1939 this was the home of the Paris Restaurant, the first of several French eateries here. From around 1956 it was Le Trianon, who advertised that they were holding their first snail race here on September 26, 1958.

Fifteen years later in 1973, Rene Verdon began giving cooking lessons here: he had been the chef at the White House, hired by Jackie Kennedy in 1961 and serving through the administration of Lyndon Johsnon. By the time the restaurant closed in 1986, it was known as “Rene Verdon’s Le Trianon”.

By 1988 it was Jil’s and still a French restaurant, though it offered American cuisine as well, courtesy of chef Lucas Schuemaker. That mix of Europe and America didn’t seem to go well though, and Jil’s was declared bankrupt in August 1989.

When it became the award-wining seven-barrel microbrewery called Bartlett Hall is unknown, thought they won their first award for their beer in 2016. The “Hall” part of the name is due to the fact it can be hired as venue that will host around 225 people, while alongside the Hall is the Bartlett Hotel and Guesthouse at 240 O’Farrell Street, which seems to be a small 3-star budget-level hotel of close to 100 rooms on the upper levels.

As for the name, that comes from Washington Montgomery Bartlett (1824-1887), who was the sixteenth Governor of California, as well as the 20^th Mayor of San Francisco.

Known for his honesty and the only Jewish man elected to the office so far, his time as Governor was cut tragically short, as he died after only nine months in office. His portrait – and that of several other historical notables in San Francisco history – is on the Hall’s beermats.

Of course, I had to look in the archives at the Main Library in San Francisco to see if there had been any crimes and misdemeanors here, and I found a few stories.

On March 27, 1904 a fire was reported at what was then called the Columbus Lodging House (242 O’Farrell Street was the address given in the San Francisco Chronicle report, noting that the proprietor was WW Dunlap).

Smoke was seen on an upper floor, but it was quickly extinguished, with damage estimated at $500. A faulty electric wire was said to be to blame, and the report noted that “many women live in the house, and though there was much confusion, none was hurt.”

It was over half a century later before this address made the news again: on September 16, 1956, Marine Sergeant Louis Osborn was critically injured when he fell from a fifth-floor window here. Osborn, 21, and his two roommates – Privates Ruben Mariscal and John Underwood – told police they had just come back from a “night on the town” when the accident occurred.

Oklahoma-born Osborn crashed into the steel marquee over the hotel’s entrance, and suffered a fractured skull and other injuries; he had just arrived from Japan, and was awaiting reassignment.

Not much to get excited about you may think, though several other Chronicle articles mention a Dunlap House at addresses on both sides of what’s now Bartlett Hall, and there’s also a possible clue in the name WW Dunlap, the man mentioned as proprietor of Columbus lodging house when that small fire happened in 1904.

There’s a Dunlap House listed at 220 O’Farrell Street on May 6, 1898, the day that Arthur H. Klein was arrested. He had been charged with stealing a sealskin sacque (a very fancy fur coat) from Beatrice Hopkins, and from “borrowing” a large amount of money from her. It was also alleged he had been forging his wealthy father’s signature around town, and police back in his home town of Pittsburgh wanted a word with him.

Klein denied all this, and told police he came to San Francisco in January and soon met Beatrice, who was living with another woman in room at Dunlap House. He said he spent most of his $600 romancing Beatrice, who had apparently recently left her railway road husband in Oakland, and “since the separation has been well known about town.” So, who conned who?

Less than a year later on March 11, 1899, it was reported that detectives Thomas B. Gibson and Ed Egan had arrested a prize-fighter named William “Dutchy” Baker and his accomplice Lorenzo Peterson at the Dunlap House.

The pair had been charged with conspiring alongside Oscar Anderson to embezzle some $800 from a local lumber dealer named Charles Nelson three weeks earlier. Nelson had sent Anderson to the bank to get the $800, but en route Baker and Peterson managed to convince him to do otherwise.

“Dutchy” and Anderson fled the city for Sacramento, and then Santa Rosa, where they used the money to buy a saloon. They were auditioning women to perform as “variety actresses” when the detectives caught up with them just as they were about to take a train to rejoin Anderson in Sacramento.

On March 14, 1903 there was a “General Melee” at the Dunlap House, with “blows, oaths, screams and a finale punctuated by the clubs of three policemen” at Dunlap House, which was now listed as 246 O’Farrell Street – the other side of Bartlett Hall today).

It was around 2.30am when A. Dunlap (a relation to WW?), DT Clancy, CE Harding and A. Campbell were all arrested for various offences including disturbing the peace, carrying a concealed weapon, and assault with  deadly weapon. Also in the fight was Fred Hodges, who suffered a broken leg and nose, and Neil Williams, a deputy sheriff of Santa Barbara County no less, who had cuts on his head.

What had happened? Apparently, Hodge, a tourist, had wandered into Dunlap House in the early hours of the morning on a “sight-seeing expedition,” reported the Chronicle and bumped into a group of fellow sight-seers.

Hodge “did not fit nicely into the party,” and an “altercation” arose in the hallway. Fists flew, police were summoned, and all the men were fined from $500 to $1,150, though to a man they “refused to discuss their troubles” as they waited for new about Hodge: if his injuries were fatal, they could be in very big trouble indeed.

They said nothing either about why they argued, though the Chronicle said it was “understood it arose over some of the women in the house,” which seemed to imply the Dunlap House may have offered more than food and lodging…

I’m not certain how many of these neighborly stories might have taken place at the Bartlett Hall of today, or whether the Dunlaps perhaps had several hotels along O’Farrell Road (nor whether, newspaper reports got the wrong address or didn’t include one in their articles).

Then of course there was rebuilding after the infamous 1906 fire, and over a century of other possible rebuilding, renaming, and even renumbering. Either way, it was a great surprise to find Bartlett Hall on my own sight-seeing around Union Square – and they serve good beer too!