The drawbridge that I operate (The University Bridge in Seattle, Washington) has a long history. The bridge that I’m sitting on as I write this was erected in 1933. Franklin D. Roosevelt presided over the dedication ceremony, albeit long distance. He pressed a button while sitting in the White House. The button may not have been connected to anything, but the symbolism was there.
Before that, the first bridge at this location was the Latona Bridge, which was built in 1891 to take streetcars over the lake. Then a second bridge was built right next to it in 1901, and the streetcar line was shifted to it, while the original bridge was designated for pedestrians, horses and vehicles. Both of these bridges were replaced by the first University Bridge in 1919. It was made of wood, though, so it wasn’t going to last long. That’s why the current bridge was erected in 1933.
When I’m sitting up here late at night, and the traffic has died down and the city is oddly quiet, I spend a lot of time thinking about the history of this bridge. I wish it could talk. I’m sure it has seen quite a bit. If you know where to look, you can still see the mechanisms that used to operate the old traffic gates, and the attachments for the fencing that used to lower down just before an opening so that startled horses wouldn’t bolt into the drink.
There have been countless marriage proposals on this bridge. Parades have crossed it. Protesters have marched on it and even occupied it a time or two. It kept me company during the recent COVID pandemic, when the bulk of the city was locked down. It has stayed standing as wars came and went throughout the world. It has had everything from horse drawn wagons to Model A Fords to Tucker Convertibles to Volkswagen Beetles to Hybrids crossing it.
If encouraged, I can wax romantic about this bridge. I don’t own it, of course, but when I’m tending to it, it feels like it’s mine. I’m proud to have this job.
The other day, though, I got a shiver. I realized that Ted Bundy, the infamous serial killer, attended the University of Washington, a few blocks northeast of here. Every UW student, at one time or another, walks across this bridge. Ted Bundy probably crossed it dozens of times. I’m glad I wasn’t working here when he was around.
If you’ve read any of my blog posts about this bridge, you’re aware that it attracts its fair share of oddballs. I hope that the darker incidents haven’t soaked into the concrete of this bridge as much as I’d like to think the happier incidents have. I hope my beloved bridge is able to shake off the car crashes and the thieves and the jumpers.
I sit here and enjoy the beautiful sunrises and sunsets, and the beautiful sunny days over Lake Union and Portage Bay, and moonlight reflected off the water is breathtaking. It’s hard to imagine that evil things have happened here, but I’m sure that more has gone on than I’m aware of. Human nature has its dark side. No doubt about it.
Case in point, The Mahoney Trunk Murder of 1921. If University Bridge played any part in it, it was minimal. But it happened right out there in Portage Bay. If the bridgetender at the time was looking that way, he’d have seen the whole thing. He might not have realized what he was seeing as it played out, but when the news got out, he’d have put the pieces together.
To get the full gist of this complicated tale, join me, Dear Reader, in 1918, the year before the first University Bridge was completed. That was when James Edward Mahoney was sent to the State Penitentiary in Walla Walla, Washington. He had been convicted of drugging and robbing a man in Spokane. He was supposed to serve 5 to 8 years, but he only served 2 ½.
The reason for his good fortune was that his mother Rita and his sister Dolores (a.k.a Margaret, a.k.a Dolly) talked Governor Louis Hart into giving Mahoney an early release. Apparently, the Governor used to be their neighbor. Upon release, Mahoney headed to Seattle to live with his family.
Mahoney’s mother and sister managed a hotel called The New Baker House, which was owned by Kate Mooers, a 68-year-old divorcee who was said to be worth about $200,000, which is equivalent to $3,145,400 today. She also was part owner of an apartment building and drove around in a large car. These things, along with the diamond jewelry and fur coats that she wore, made no secret of the fact that she was wealthy.
The only attractive thing about Kate Mooers was her money. According to reports at the time, she was short, bald, ill-tempered, and miserly. (She doesn’t seem that unattractive in the photos I’ve found, but I suspect she was a little younger, and she was always wearing a hat.) Despite her flaws, when Rita introduced her 36-year-old son to the woman, he must have courted her in earnest, because less than two months after he left prison, they were married.
Now, anyone with even a pinch of common sense can see that this story is not going to end well. Am I right? If anyone told poor old Kate that she was floating in a sea of red flags, she chose to ignore them. And in her defense, it’s pretty evident that she didn’t know about his criminal record. It’s not like she could Google him, after all.
Two months later, the “happy couple” was about to embark on a month-long belated honeymoon. They were to head to St. Paul and points east. In preparation, Kate withdrew $1,600 from her safe deposit box and purchased $460 in traveler’s checks. They were to board the train on April 16, 1921.
Just 11 days later, Mahoney was back in Seattle. He was by himself. He told everyone that Kate had headed off to Havana, Cuba with some friends. Mahoney would join her in New York City after that trip.
Then, using documents he forged, he proceeded to clean Kate out. He emptied her safe deposit box, collected her rents, and tried to sell her property. He started dressing in expensive clothing and used her car to go to nightclubs.
Meanwhile, Kate’s relatives started receiving strange letters from Kate, postmarked from St. Paul. They didn’t sound like her, and they weren’t written in her handwriting. And Mahoney couldn’t quite keep his story straight as to where Kate was and what she was doing. People started to suspect that something wasn’t quite right.
Her nieces, Kate Steward and Carrie Hewitt, decided that the police needed to be notified. After hearing what had transpired, Detectives Tennant and Ballard decided to investigate. The timeline of events that they were able to reconstruct reveal a very elaborate plan.
On April 13, 1921, three days before the couple were to board the train, Mahoney arranged to rent the vacant half of a houseboat in Portage Bay. He also said he’d be tying a boat to the houseboat, because he liked to fish. He asked the landlord where the deepest part of Portage Bay was.
On April 15, Mahoney rented a boat, using a false name. (He never returned the boat. The owner found it a week later, submerged near the shore.) That afternoon, Mahoney and a woman pretending to be his wife signed a power of attorney allowing Mahoney to be in charge of her estate.
Early on April 16, the day they were to leave town, Mahoney went to a hardware store and bought 30 feet of rope and 5 pounds of quicklime. Late that night, Mahoney called a transfer company and asked them to send a truck so he could move a heavy trunk. The truck driver helped Mahoney load the trunk, which was tied up with rope, onto the truck. Then Mahoney rode with the driver to a houseboat on the shores of Portage Bay, right next to the first University Bridge. The truck driver helped Mahoney load the trunk onto a boat, and Mahoney rowed away, saying he was taking the trunk to his houseboat.
All was quiet at the Mahoney apartment the next day, so everyone assumed that they had left on their honeymoon.
On April 18th, Mahoney went to a tailor and ordered two fancy suits, and paid for them with forged traveler’s checks in his wife’s name. Then he visited a friend in Everett, hopped on a train, and left.
During their thorough investigation, the detectives also discovered that Mahoney had been married to a woman named Irene since 1914. She tried to divorce him a year later, but the papers were never filed. She said she left him when she found out that he was smuggling opium and he tried to kill her.
When they finally had gathered all of the evidence above, the detectives were able to arrest Mahoney on May 22, 1921. At the time of the arrest, Mahoney had $25,000 worth of his wife’s jewelry in his pockets. He told the detectives that his wife had given it to him for safekeeping.
Every single witness that the detectives had spoken to was able to positively identify Mahoney. He was immediately charged with forgery, but the county prosecutor hesitated to try him for murder as they had yet to find the body. Divers began searching the bottom of Portage Bay.
On August 8, 1921, just 200 yards east of the University Bridge, the divers came across a trunk, tied with rope, and anchored to the bottom of the bay by a huge chunk of concrete. The rope broke and the trunk popped to the surface. When it was brought to shore, a large crowd had gathered.
The quicklime had done its job. Kate Mahoney’s body could only be identified based on her clothing, personal items, false teeth and wedding ring. The autopsy revealed that she had been poisoned with at least 30 grains of morphine, stuffed into the trunk while still alive, and then her head was bashed in. Mahoney pled not guilty to the charge of first degree murder, thereby subjecting Kate’s family to the anguish of having to go through a trial.
The defense tried to claim that this couldn’t be Kate Mahoney’s body, because witnesses claimed to have seen Kate after the night of the alleged murder. Mahoney’s mother and sister both testified to that “fact” along with his sister’s 12-year-old foster daughter. (That must have been a horrible experience for that child.)
The defense also claimed that Detective Tennant had framed Mahoney by planting the trunk in Portage Bay. They said the trunk that Mahoney had was full of bootleg liquor that his wife had stored in their apartment, and he was getting rid of it so that his parole wouldn’t be violated.
The jury only deliberated for 5 hours. Not only was he found guilty of first-degree murder, but they also voted to impose the death penalty. In the coming months, all motions for appeal were denied. His execution date was set for December 1, 1922.
Dolores was arrested for forgery and grand larceny. This may have been what prompted Mahoney to write a very detailed confession letter, making it clear that his sister had nothing to do with the murder. Most of his facts corresponded with the evidence.
Even so, he blamed his wife for the murder. He said he married her with the belief that he’d be able to share in her wealth. He said that because of her stinginess, bad attitude and constant nagging, she had to die. (Here’s hoping Dear Husband doesn’t agree, or I’m doomed!)
At the same time, his sister Dolores said that she had killed Kate during a heated argument and her brother only helped her dispose of the body. After hearing her confession, it was determined that it was riddled with inconsistencies. No one took her seriously.
On November 30th, Dolores was convicted of forgery and grand larceny and sentenced to 5 to 20 years in jail. Nora was never charged.
The next day, Mahoney’s execution day, in the wee hours, he asked for a priest to hear his confession. At 7:02 am he was hanged. After his funeral he was buried in an unmarked grave.
The irony of all of this is that none of the Mahoneys benefitted from Kate’s wealth, if you don’t count the fancy suits and money stolen from her safe deposit box, which was probably used for attorney’s fees. It seems that two weeks after they got married, Kate made a will leaving all her holdings to Mahoney. But 3 days later, she went back to the attorney and changed her will to leave everything to her two nieces. She told the attorney that she had found out that Mahoney had lied about having a lot of property in Tacoma.
So in the end, Kate had come to her senses, but only a little bit. If she had taken that opportunity to call the honeymoon off, leave him, and file for a divorce, perhaps she would have survived this horrible man. Instead, she wound up in a watery grave, with only the University Bridge to watch over her.
If only this bridge could speak. It would have quite a few tales to tell.
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