The Jean Spangler Premonition

At left—Jean and Sophie on Santa Monica Boulevard in Los Angeles; taken in late November of 1942.

St. Louis, Missouri / Los Angeles, California

October 1949—65 years ago. St. Louis, Missouri is not where one would expect to find answers to one of Hollywood’s most enduring mysteries of the 1940s, but don’t tell that to Sophie Spangler. She was there, on that October 7, 1949, when her beloved sister-in-law—showgirl Jean Spangler went missing in Los Angeles. [AUDIO] Her disappearance became to missing persons cases what the “Black Dahlia” murder of Elizabeth Short represented to homicides. In fact—for a while, police thought the two might even be connected. Sophie had been visiting the Spangler family at the time. A long-time resident of suburban St. Louis, Sophie had been married to Jean’s brother Edward Spangler. She was widowed in 1945, when Edward’s WW II bomber was reported lost over the seas of Japan. Born with the gift of “second sight,” Sophie’s sporadic ability to sometimes recognize forthcoming danger via her dreams was more of a curse than it was a blessing. In short, she had premonitions. She had no control over them. They would come when they happened, usually revolving around a deceased friend she had once known. Whenever she would dream about this friend, “something bad would always happen,” she told me, during a conversation we had in the spring of 2001. She was in her later years by then. But her mind was still sharp. She remembered names and places like it were yesterday. In the case of her missing sister-in-law, the remembrances went back well over fifty years. And aside from a few passing remarks about it privately with family members, Sophie had never talked about that day in-depth (since those days) with anybody—until me. I was in preparations for an upcoming episode about Jean’s disappearance for E! Entertainment Television’s cable series Mysteries & Scandals.

Actor Kirk Douglas—whom Jean met months earlier on a Warner Brothers studio film set; the only “Kirk” she was said to have known.

My research on Spangler had come about spontaneously. I got sidetracked on her possible connection to the “Black Dahlia” murder; by actor Paul Burke. He was not keen on discussing Spangler, as he felt she had “only achieved notoriety by disappearing.” Burke—a once familiar face on television (he died in 2009), had known both women during his early days in Hollywood. His first wife had been a dancer at the same club as Jean. Intrigued, I began researching the Spangler mystery further. The pieces finally started coming together after I uncovered documents relating to a long-forgotten child custody battle involving Jean and her ex-husband from 1948. The information contained in the documents seemed to suggest a growing “pattern of animosity” between the pair was fast moving in the direction of a “climatic conclusion.” These documents, former key witness Sophie Spangler—and the Mysteries & Scandals episode, re-captured the interest of the Los Angeles Police Department. Homicide commander Captain Jim Tatreau was especially sympathetic to “the cause” when it came to solving old cases. He would be instrumental in putting in place LAPD’s very first official “cold case” unit within the year (2001)—something that would unfortunately (by default) put the pending Spangler investigation on the “back burner” forever.

Jean Spangler mystery revisited in 2001—LAPD’s Captain Jim Tatreau (upper left) and lead “cold case” investigator Rick Jackson (at desk).

Tatreau (who would pass away in 2007 at age 58) assigned investigator Rick Jackson to revisit the Spangler matter. Unable to locate any of the original evidence or files, Jackson’s efforts to develop the case further became stymied. Spending additional time, money and resources seemed pointless. Had the case only evolved to a more “promising stage,” Jackson said the department could have dispatched investigators to Florida to re-question Jean’s ex-husband “in person.” Now it would never happen. Thus ended LAPD’s 2001 involvement with the case. The night Jean Spangler vanished, she had been planning to pay a visit to her estranged ex-husband. She needed fast money. Two days later, her purse was found laying by an entry gate in Griffith Park (Los Angeles’ large and densely wooded recreational area). An unfinished handwritten note found inside the purse implied that Jean was possibly pregnant, and “planning to pay a visit that weekend to a local abortionist,” while her mother was out of town. There was no date on the note and it wasn’t signed. Until Jean’s mother, Florence, could return from her trip, sister-in-law Sophie would remain front and center—trying as best as she could to assist investigators with whatever information she could remember.

Me—at Griffith Park’s entry Gate #2 (where Jean’s purse was found discarded). Inset…lower right; screen capture from my appearance on Mysteries & Scandals (2001).

“I have a bad feeling Jeannie,” Sophie told her, only hours before she left the apartment that day. Sophie had experienced a bizarre dream the night before. She had awaken in a cold sweat and was shaking. She had experienced similar dreams before—each revolving around her late friend. In the dream, the friend (a woman) was laying in a casket, in a funeral home. “I was looking down at her, lying there. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and raised up and looked directly at me. She said to me, ‘It’s not finished yet.’ Then she laid back down and closed her eyes,” Sophie told me. Regarding it as a “bad omen,” she told her sister-in-law about it. “Jeannie scoffed at the notion of it. She didn’t believe it and even mocked me.” Preoccupied with promises from her ex-husband about getting a “large sum of money” from him, all Jean could do was talk about that. But later that afternoon, she came back down the stairs with a look of concern on her face. “She had been thinking about what I said before,” Sophie said. Sophie could not elaborate on the dream any further, only to say, “Jeannie, I don’t like this. I feel something ‘bad’ is going to happen.”

Town and Country Market; located across the street from Farmer’s Market (2001), where the last confirmed sighting of Jean took place on Friday evening; October 7, 1949.

Sophie declined E!’s offer to appear on the Jean Spangler episode of Mysteries & Scandals.” She said she was still “in fear” of Jean’s ex-husband. At the time, in 2001, he was still alive and well—retired and living comfortably in Florida. He likewise declined to be interviewed for the episode. He would then pass away in 2007. His ashes were scattered at sea. He had loved the sea. In fact, at the time his ex-wife went missing, police were supposedly in possession of a “boating document” indicating Jean’s ex had taken his boat out that night (improbable, it seemed, because the ocean waves that night were rough…and his boat was small). Sophie preceded the man in death by some seven months, passing away herself on Halloween night, in 2007. A former bank teller for Hampton Bank in St. Louis, Sophie would never remarry after the death of her husband, Edward Spangler–Jean’s brother. Sophie did have a marker erected (posthumously) in his honor at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery. Following her death, Jefferson Barracks removed Edward’s original marker from the location where it had originally been, remade it (to include Sophie’s name and information on the reverse side), and then moved it to another part of the cemetery grounds.

From my collection—a rare original autograph Jean signed for a friend in 1948.

Personally, I believe the answer to Jean Spangler’s disappearance lies somewhere between “intentional murder and accidental death.” And her relationship with the mysterious “Kirk,” (who the purse note was addressed to) and her “plans” to visit a doctor named “Scott” (also mentioned in the note). Police tended to believe Spangler died during an “illegal abortion”—but why would an illegal abortionist throw away a purse with a potentially incriminating note inside with his name written on it?. “I saw his name (“Dr. Scott”) written  in her address book at the apartment,” Sophie told me. “But later, after she didn’t come home, I tried to find it for detectives, but it wasn’t there any longer. I don’t know what happened to it?” Sophie also regretted not letting Jean’s ex-husband come up to the apartment’s door the following morning—Saturday; October 8, 1949. Ironically, he had plans to pick up he and Jean’s 5-year-old daughter (for a court-allowed weekend visitation). One particular angle that I favor to consider (since Jean had not left the note for her intended party—i.e. “Kirk”), was that she was “interrupted” before she could do so–perhaps heading out that night “to leave the note for Kirk” (and/or later…see the “doctor”) but never made it to either place because she took a fatal “detour” just prior to doing so—to confront her ex-husband about his over-due child support check?

Jean Spangler—with daughter Christine.

Required by law to return the little girl, given Jean’s “missing status,” he kept the girl. He would later flee to Florida—out of reach from local authorities and California courts. Upon their divorce (in 1946), he had tricked Jean into giving up custody of the child. She later challenged him in court, in a bitter custody battle in 1948. The presiding judge in the case sided with Jean, giving full custody of the daughter to her–enraging Jean’s ex-husband. Some say Sophie’s premonition of forthcoming doom was “just coincidence,” as was Jean’s ex-husband’s coming by the apartment the very next morning to pick up the daughter (which he would then never return, and from there on out…vindictively block the Spangler family from ever seeing the child again). “I let Christine run out to meet him on the sidewalk. I wished I hadn’t,” Sophie reflects. “I wish I had let him come all the way up to the door that day,” Sophie said. “Then I would have seen the scratches on his face.” [AUDIO] She had never repeated this detail—not in the fifty-plus years that had followed that day. But she told me. She wanted “someone else” to know… that the detectives had questioned her about the ex-husband coming over,
and that Jean’s ex-husband had fresh scratches on his face (he claimed, however, he got the scratches after “dropping a case of glass bottles at work”). They didn’t believe him and later excavated part of the floor in his garage, looking for evidence. But they found nothing.

Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery
(St. Louis, Mo).

Jean had social ties to virtually everyone. Ronald Reagan was a close friend (their families attended the same church together). She had (allegedly) been dating actor Kirk Douglas. Her daughter went to school with Lloyd Bridges’ son, Beau. Previously, she had dated at least two of mobster Mickey Cohen’s henchmen—and hoodlum Johnny Stompanato (later stabbed to death by actress Lana Turner’s daughter). She had also been keeping company with local millionaire Thomas Lee—who committed suicide a few months later by jumping to his death from the 12-story Pellissier Building in Los Angeles. Actor Robert Cummings was also a close personal friend.

Unchanged—Jean’s old apartment (as it appeared in 2001), still waiting for her return. Inset…lower left; Spangler friend, actor Robert Stack (and me) outside his home in 1978.

And so was Robert Stack. Stack (by then an established actor), was on his way home the evening before Jean went missing. According to Spangler family sources, upon passing Jean’s apartment that night, Stack later remembered observing someone lurking outside. It was dark and it was late. Stack could not identify whether the person was a man or a woman, but felt they “may have been trying to gain access to the apartment through one of the windows.” Tired and wanting to get home, he shrugged off his suspicious thoughts…thinking it was “probably nothing.” He later contacted the Spanglers with the information, after learning of Jean’s disappearance.

Carole Lombard UFO Valley of Death

St. Louis, Missouri / Good Springs, Nevada

Mount Potosi—“The Saddle,” as seen from the road that connects I-15 to Good Springs.

“Off course, behind schedule and below altitude.” That is the official determination for what caused the crash that killed actress Carole Lombard (and 21 others) in 1942. Unofficially, some still believe it to have been the work of fate (via “supernatural” design). In short, the number 3—a reputed “bad luck” numeral at the time, seemed to be everywhere. The Lombard party was suppose to travel back to Los Angeles via train after the war bond rally in Indianapolis. Their group of 3 (consisting of Carole, her mother Elizabeth and friend Otto Winkler) only managed to board the plane because of 3 last minute seat cancellations. Carole was 33 years old at the time. It had taken 3 days to reach Indiana (her home state) by train. The plane was a DC-3, designated “Flight 3.” Documentation about a peculiar unexplained “light in the sky,” just prior to the crash intrigued me. The mysterious light had been observed several days earlier by a lead airway beacon mechanic (and his partner) near Baker, California only a month before the “Battle of Los Angeles” alledged UFO incident on February 24, 1942. I was researching the Lombard crash for a possible documentary project when I came across something interesting—the “turning point” appears to have happened in St. Louis–at Lambert Field Airport. By coincidence, Capt. Wayne Williams—the pilot who flew the plane to its doom, had once lived in St. Louis himself (flying mail back and forth between St. Louis and Chicago).

Me—with Lombard friend Robert Stack at his home in Beverly Hills in 1978 (photo taken by his wife, actress Rosemarie Bowe-Stack). Inset (upper left) Lombard and Stack in her last film
To Be or Not to Be.

My only connection to Carole herself (albeit indirect) was my marginal acquaintance with actor Robert Stack during the time I was living in Hollywood. I met Stack in 1978 at his home in Beverly Hills. My mother had been a huge fan of his and had named me after the character he had played in his 1956 Oscar nominated role in Written on the Wind. It was Stack who had taught Carole Lombard how to “skeet shoot.” And it was Stack who had co-starred with her in her final movie—ironically titled To Be or Not to Be.

Me—lost, alone and out of water in the scorching heat of the rugged Nevada mountains.

One of my parent’s favorite films had been Fate is the Hunter (1964). Loosely based upon the novel of the same title, the book’s preface payed homage to all those pilots and crew members that had lost their lives up until then. The captain and co-pilot of Lombard’s flight was noted among them. Watching the film, it is hard not to believe that its source material was not taken directly from the real-life circumstances that sent Flight 3 to it’s doom. During an impromptu trip out to southern California in 1994, I decided to take my rental car to Las Vegas, set on climbing Mount Potosi–in hopes of seeing the 1942 crash site. A pilot friend had mentioned how the area was still rife with plane debris from the wreck. I was a novice when it came to hiking. In fact, I had no experience whatsoever. I purchased a small backpack, some bottled water, cutting tools (if needed) for any large wreckage pieces I might find, one Army MRE (meals ready to eat) and nothing else. I had no cell phone (they weren’t available yet), and had told no one of my plans. I rented a room at the local Motel 6, in Las Vegas. It was close to I-15. It would take me approximately thirty minutes to drive back south, just to reach the highway exit for Good Springs.

This empty lot on Clemens Avenue is all that remains of Lombard pilot Wayne Williams’ former St. Louis home.

The next morning, before daylight, I headed out to meet the mountain. The road to Good Springs was blacktopped. From there out to the mountain base, it was all dirt…all the way. I don’t recall how many miles, but it seemed like I drove forever. Once there, a government entry gate prohibited me access to the actual incline road. So, from there on—I hiked. The mountain was 8500 feet high. The Lombard plane had missed clearing its peak by only 730 feet. The temperature on the desert floor would be reaching upwards of 112 degrees the day of my “adventure.” Once on top of the mountain, however, the altitude temperature was substantially cooler. I located the area of the crash quite easily. In fact, I could see it once I reached the upper peak. I tried to put reason to the “whats and whys” of the crash. There weren’t many answers…just the number 3. *See my 1998 interview from E! Entertainment Television’s Mysteries & Scandals HERE. Equally strange, was that former St. Louis mail pilot Wayne Williams had experienced only one night flight out of Las Vegas before—which, ironically, had occurred exactly 3 weeks earlier (when many of the airway beacons lining the flight route were still “blacked out” due too the attack on Pearl Harbor).

A 1942 FBI report detailing the “peculiar lights in the sky” relating to Lombard’s flight (left). Rare un-retouched 1942 “Battle of Los Angeles” photo (top right). And an illustration depicting the Eastern Airlines DC-3 “flying saucer encounter” near Montgomery, Alabama in 1948 (lower right).

Had the flight not been 3 hours behind schedule (due to a smoke-related two hour stop-over hold in St. Louis), the plane would have landed at Boulder City’s airstrip (TWA’s hub)—26 miles SE from Las Vegas, without incident. Because it was dark by the time Flight 3 reached the lower tip of southern Nevada (due to all the delays), it was automatically diverted to Vegas. According to the official CAB (Civil Aeronautics Board) findings, the TWA  plane struck a cliff just below the crest of Mount Potosi–33 miles from its departure point (the North Las Vegas site of Nellis Airforce Base now). Meanwhile, back on the mountain…I had exhausted my water supply by the time I reached the top. The smart thing to have done, would have been give up and head back down the mountain road I had hiked up. Instead, I descended…into an adventure. Within a hour or so, I had become dehydrated. I was out of food and water. I started to feel dizzy and disoriented. It had taken me nearly eight hours just to reach the top of the mountain peak. In a weakened state by late afternoon, my only thought was to get off the mountain. Heading down, I was unaware that Mount Potosi was connected to Charleston Mountain range. It was a mistake I would later pay dearly for.

Star Tom Cruise’s #33 problem.

After slipping and then tumbling down a large open wash area, a thick cactus needle broke off and embedded itself in my leg. The needle pierced my blue jeans, striking an apparent “acupuncture pressure point,” rendering my one leg partially numb. I then began dragging my leg behind me. Walking was difficult at best. If tried to climb back up the mountain (to try and get my bearings), I would slide back down on the loose gravel. If I attempted to find shade, I’d hear rattlesnakes—warning me off. I became bloated and swollen. My high blood pressure did not make it any better. I had brought along my 35mm camera with me. I snapped off a few self portrait shots, so that if I “didn’t make it out alive,” at least they’d know what I looked like. Three hours later, I reached the base of what I thought was Mount Potosi, I believed my parked car was waiting just “right around the bend.” I was mistaken. The range over-lapped, so I was actually 23 miles from my car! Blisters were now covering the underneath of both of my feet. I was severely sunburned and could barely walk. The sun was going down now. Soon, I would be alone out there—in the desert, and with no flashlight; just me and the rattlesnakes. So exhausted, weak and tired, I could hardly stand up. I dare not try and sit down. The last time I tried, a small scorpion had tried to get under my shirt.

Lambert Field Airport (St. Louis), as the Lombard plane would have known it in 1942. Flight 3 arrived at 5:26 a.m. on January 16th. It departed 1 hour and 56 minutes later.

I had been following the sound of gunfire in the distance. It was my only hope. Thankfully, it was not a “desert murder” taking place, but a young father and his three kids. They had been out camping for the weekend. About to head back home, they were all packed up and ready to leave when I stumbled into view. I remember begging for water, as the concerned kids kept trying to force feed me cookies! Finally I got some water. The father was a helicopter pilot for one of the casinos. He graciously gave me a ride back to my car. The pickup truck he was driving was a truck he used for outings. It was old and beat. It also had a bad fuel pump. As we got closer and closer to my car, the fuel pump began acting up. The father and his kids dropped me off, so as not to get stuck out there themselves. I walked the remainder of the way back to my car and headed back to my motel room in Vegas.

Carole Lombard—as the country came to know her in death (left). And as “Roma Courtenay,” possessed by the spirit of an executed murderess in the 1933 horror classic Supernatural.

UFO ADDENDUM

Much has been forgotten about the “peculiar lights in the sky” that were noted in regards to the crash of Lombard’s flight. “Hanging like a suspended lantern” above the mountain range, the mysterious unexplained light was first theorized to have possibly been part of a sabotage plot to “lure Flight 3 to it’s doom” (because of the 15 Army Air Corps ferry pilots on board). This theory was quickly discounted after an airway beacon mechanic came forward and reported to the FBI about seeing an “identical type light” hovering in the sky above Baker, California just three days earlier. The mechanic was engaged in recovery efforts following the Lombard crash when he by chance learned of the similar light from an area ranch owner who had seen both the light and the plane’s fiery explosion.

The “UFO invasion” over Washington, D.C. in 1952.

These two mid-January incidents preceded the now-famous “Battle of Los Angeles,” (which unfolded on the evening of February 24, 1942) by just a short period. Officially chalked up to having been a result of edgy “jitters and nerves” (due to fear and anticipation following the then-recent December 7, 1941 Pearl Harbor attack), the “battle” was said to have been nothing else. Following the 1952 “UFO invasion” over Washington, D.C. where a rash of multiple bright objects were observed flying in “controlled formation,” many have since re-examined the 1942 Los Angeles incident and cited numerous notable similarities. Was what happened over Los Angeles a “UFO invasion” as well? If so, then perhaps one best devote closer scrutiny to that which transpired in those cold dark skies above Baker, California and above Lombard’s Nevada death mountain. If fate and “the supernatural” was not involved…then perhaps a few “little grey aliens” just might have been?