And gentlemen and ladies, if there happened to be any present, find your
seats. Our vote is about to begin. It was December fifteenth, nineteen
seventy three, and an important decision was about to be made. Doctor Alfred
Freemans did before the American Psychiatric Association to discuss an issue that had plagued The
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual. Our DSM two currently describes homosexuality as a form of
paraphilia, a term that means abnormal sexual desires like voyeurism, pedophilia, and
at the time gay sex. We will be replacing the term homosexuality. From
now on, queers troubled by their sexuality and seeking the help of psychiatrists will
be classified as having sexual orientation disturbance. The New York Times reported that journalists
argued with psychiatrists at the conference, saying that there really wasn't any difference in
this new definition other than a name. They felt the name change only served
to end criticism from gay rights groups instead of changing the world's view of them.
Today, the idea that being gay falls into the same category as pedophilia
is absurd, but this was the common belief at the time, and psychiatrists
would try to cure their patients by changing their behavior patterns to those that mimic
the stereotypical straight person. Not surprisingly, the Surgeon General released a statement that
said, quote, there is no valid scientific evidence that sexual orientation can be
changed end quote. What's surprising is that this statement wasn't released until two thousand
and one. And there are still people out there who believe your sexual preference
as a choice. But I won't dwell on that because well, that's not
what this podcast is about. Back to the nineteen seventy three APA conference,
with the votes counted, fifty eight percent support the removal of homosexuality from our
nomenclature. Now, in regards to the laws, sexual or has been used
as a tool of discrimination. This needs to end. Although the APA itself
willn't be able to change laws, they made it quite clear they did not
support rules that made gay sex between consenting adults and private illegal. Now,
I'm not sure how exactly law enforcement was able to track that, but apparently
they did. With an understanding of how the world operated in the seventies.
Let's start the next chapter of Dead Time stories. Oh gay, please don't
It was probably very cold that January night, maybe around forty three degrees on
San Francisco's Ocean Beach. If the fog rolled in, it might have covered
the waxing crescent Moon. Why are you doing this? I didn't think you'd
be that type of man. A guidebook for Ocean Beach warns tourists about the
water. Even though it's a popular surfing spot, the rip currents will destroy
novice swimmers. That aside, this beach isn't your stereotypical layout in tan type
of beach, All you guys are the same. There is the scene at
Cliffhouse offering great seaside delicacies, and at this particular time, a museum of
penny arcade games rested in its basement. Though something tells me in the wee
hours of January twenty seventh, nineteen seventy four, Gerald Earl Kavanaugh was not
visiting Ocean Beach for any of the above activities. As his assailant walked off,
bloody knife in hand, Gerald looked up at the moon and released his
last few breaths. He might have flexed his left pinky, freshly slashed from
where he tried to stop the knife to no avail. His timex watch ticked
away the final seconds of his life. Around one twenty five am, a
man stumbled upon Gerald's body, face up in the sand and ran to a
nearby pay phone communications. This is when Tana, May I help you?
Yes, I believe there might be a dead person on the beach at a
right across from Iloa Street. Ilola Street, if you follow the street right
down to the water. I was walking along there and I saw somebody lying
there. But I didn't want to get too closed because you know, you
never know what could happen. Okay, did you want to give us your
name, sir? No, I don't think that's necessary. I just wanted
to let somebody know maybe he needs help or something. But I felt it
was my duty to report it. Okay, fine, we'll check it out.
Okay. As a coroner looked over Gerald's stout body and balding head,
he took notes on every detail. John Doe number seven was discovered in a
supine position, fully clothed, with twenty one dollars and twelve cents in his
pocket. He was never married, a polite way of calling someone gay in
the seventies. Not much else is known about our John Doe, but he
appears to have tried to defend himself. Even now, forty five years later,
we still don't know much about Gerald other than he was a gay Canadian
immigrant board in March of nineteen twenty three. After moving to San Francisco,
he worked at a mattress factory until he became the first victim of a serial
killer that terrorized San Francisco's Cast Road district in the seventies. Each target story
began inside of a bar. Yeah, Mama, thank you, ladies and
boys. It's an honored performance for you here tonight, mom Andy to drink,
so please enjoy our very own Alasia Branford Joseph Stevens was twenty seven years
old and performed under the stage name of Jay. Originally from Texas, he
moved to San Francisco, where he quickly found a home performing as a drag
queen at Pinocchio's. Surprisingly, the establishment didn't start as a gay bar.
When owner Joe Pinocchio realized that tourists loved shows with female impersonators, he jumped
on the brand and began advertising his club as a place for entertainment and fun.
Naturally, as time went by, the bar became a safe haven for
gays, even though pinocchio can be a derogatory term for homosexual map. Please
have a vodka soda. My god, it is hot on that stage.
As Jay recuperated from her performance, she might have looked over to see an
African American man on the stool next to her, eyes blazing into his cocktail
napkin. You joined the shower, sweetie, Yeah? Sure. The man
wheelded a pen and etched its ink onto the napkin. I've watched you working
on that all night. Now let us see that masterpiece. The artist looked
up and sheepishly grinned. Can you turn your head again? I want to
get that pose? Justest right? You've been drawn me? Yeah, turn
right. I'm sorry. You've been a great subject, the way the lighting
falls off that soft skin of yours, and how your hair flips when you
bob your head to the music. How could I not draw you there?
What do you think? Jay turned and saw what we can assume was a
sensational sketch on the tiny white napkin. She took the square and beamed,
oh wow, this is gargeous. Cannot keep it. I'd rather hold on
to it. It's not my best work, but I mean I could draw
another one for you, perhaps in a different setting, maybe back at my
apartment, Jay blushed, Oh oh my. The two may have finished their
drinks and headed to a different bar. All we know is Jay was last
seen leaving North Beaches Cabaret Club. She drove the artist to Golden Gate Park,
where they enjoyed an intimate evening out. You're being a bit rough around
midnight. I never thought she heard cries for help, but ignored it,
assuming it was just another gay man moaning and pleasure as was common in the
area. Disgusting. Then, on the morning of June sixth, nineteen seventy
five, what in the world. A woman out for a walk by Spreckles
Lake squinted her eyes as she approached the lumpy object. She confirmed that it
was in fact a bloody body. We don't know why, but instead of
calling police, she called her friend, who just happened to be Emmy Award
winning composer Warner Jepson. Warner hadl Europe early. Not now, have you
walked the dogs yet? No? Why walk through Sparkle's Lake and tell me
if you see what I saw. Pumpkin just go, You'll know what I'm
talking about. As Warner walked his dogs through the park, he noticed the
body his friend had seen off to the side. Quickly returned to his house
and notified police. As you've probably already guessed, the body was none other
than our drag performer Jay. The coroner later reported her assailant stabbed her three
times, leaving blood in her nose and mouth. When police investigated the scene,
they were able to tell Jay had most likely put up a fight,
as the brush ten feet from her body was disturbed and there was a puddle
of blood. This pool led to the body, which meant she had been
dragged away. Afterwards, they also concluded Jay was the one that had brought
the attacker to the park, as her empty car still resided not far from
her corpse. Local police were beginning to see a pattern in the area's murders,
so Inspector roteat Guildford an African American, to go for the case.
I've been looking at these John Doe murders for the past few months, and
every single one is a queer. You think someone's doing us a favor,
and often the fangs. I think it's three people. Our first five victims
were drag queens. The next five were involved in that sato masochism stuff.
Disgusting. Agreed, but stick to the point. Our third guy picked up
six middle aged man from bars, took them home and stabbing to Dell,
I think they're working together. I'm not sure yet. Well, while you
figure that out, I'm gonna go pick up some more of them from the
park. You know how guessburd fangs are. We don't know the exact exchanges
officers had in regards to the murders in the gay community. To put things
in context, this was a few years before openly gay politician Harvey Milk was
murdered resulted in the White Knight riots, and pons were still rising between police
and the gay community. To this day, officers claim they never prioritize heterosexual
murders over homosexual murders, but given the shady activities going on back then,
it's easy to see why the Castro district was adamant that police were focusing more
on rich white murder cases. San Francisco's lgbtwo newspaper, The Advocate, reported
on many crimes against gay's with a special interest in two officers in particular Cornelius
Lucy, and ironically William Gay. In the evenings, Officer Gay would drive
through local parks and trail men who were out walking alone. Nice night.
Huh. Officer Gay, who was not in uniform at the time, stretched
out and spread his legs ever so slightly. The burly bear of a man
he had been stalking, watched intrigued as the cop rub the spot where his
legs met. Little chilly out there. Huh, me warm. The bear
man looked around, confirming nobody else was there. He hopped into the passenger
seat. When Officer Gay flashed a badge and a pair of handcuffs, the
bear's heart sank. You're under arrest for cruising parks looking for lewd, an
unnatural and illegal sex. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you
say will be used against you. And that was just one of the ways
police lashed out at Gaze. Of course, I'm not saying every single officer
on the force was hunting homosexuals, but reading some of the hate crimes they
committed, it's hard to believe officers desperately wanted to arrest whoever was terrorizing the
Castro. Just a few weeks after Jay's body was found. A German immigrant
named Klaus Crisman was on the town. He might have stood outside Bojangle's nightclub
nervously rubbing a tube of lipstick across his mouth when another man left the bar,
sketchbook in hand. Well, I put on makeup when you already have
a gorgeous face, Boden. I saw you inside and was instantly captured.
The artist looked around, and where's the guy you're with? You must be
in a stick and I doesn't feace anybody. Come on, don't be bashful.
That's the other way you looked at him. Got it right here?
He held up his book to show Klaus the portrait he had sketched, so
life like, not as handsome as the real thing, though you misunderstand.
I am not like you. I have a wife and kids back home in
Germany. I had a long day at work and needed a drink. What
do you do? I've worked for mish, but that doesn't consent. Well,
you have to be at least a little interested to share so much with
a stranger. The artist might have grabbed Klaus's hand, who gasped, but
didn't I try to pull away. I won't tell your wife if you won't.
We don't know how exactly it happened, other than Klaus was lasting alive
at that bar. On July seventh, nineteen seventy four, woman by the
name of Talbo Weiss was walking her dog on Ocean Beach near the end of
Lincoln Way. Yep, yep, come back here. Tabo ran after her
pup, but froze when she saw what he was so interested in. She
jetted home and phoned police, notifying them of Klaus's dead body. We have
an unidentified male here with fifteen stab wounds, three of which are in the
throat, indicating a possible decapitation attempt. Despite the subject's wedding ring, he
is likely one of the Castro killer's victims, as he has a makeup tube
in his pocket and he appears to be wearing orange bikini shorts. His wife
is likely a cover up for his sexuality. The serial killer was beginning to
get more violent, but the decapitation attempt may have been too much for him,
as he would lay quiet for several months. It wasn't until May twelfth,
nineteen seventy five, that he left another known victim, A hiker found
Vietnam War vet Frederick Cappine behind a sand dune at Vicente and Yuloa Streets.
A little under a month later, on June fourth, Harold Gahlberg was found
on a Lincoln Park golf course. Rote looked over the body with his partner,
Prentice Earl Sanders. Think this guy's one of ours serial killer's victims.
I don't know. He's a lot older than the rest of them, but
he's not wearing underwear and his pants were unzipped. He was probably trying to
get his rocks off in the park. Harold was indeed the oldest known victim
at sixty six years old. Originally from Sweden, the sailors settled in America
in nineteen fifty five after visiting several ports during the thirties. The coroner determined
he had been dead for about two weeks as fly larva and maggots covered his
face. At this point, there were five confirmed slanes by the man.
Police were now calling the Doodler and reference to the sketches he made of his
victims, but they still had no idea who he was, and the mainstream
media was largely ignoring the case. If it wasn't for thorough reporting by LGBTQ
newspapers. I doubt we would even know this case existed. What we do
know is police were getting all kinds of tips, but no witnesses wanted to
speak on the record. Now, remember this was a time where gays were
severely oppressed. Some places made it illegal to sell alcohol to homosexuals, while
newspapers published the names of known members at the LGBTQ community to clean up the
neighborhoods. Because of rules like this, a lot of gay men and women
lived in fear, but a few were brave enough to speak candidly with Charles
Morris, owner of the Sentinel newspaper, and gay activists who work closely with
a younger Diane Feinstein. Charles had across from a reporter with the San Francisco
Chronicle. Everybody, now, I can't tell you their names, but a
few guys have told me about their experiences with the Doubler. Can you share
their stories on the record, keep their names out of it, and you
have a deal. It started out like this, A buddy of mine walking
home late the other night after a few drinks from one of our usual watering
holes. Are you sure I can't hold on to that cocktail napkin. You
can take my cock but not the napkin. I'm not a professional yet,
just a humble art student bumber. Well, well, here we are,
my little corner of the world. They were about to do their thing when
our suspect removed his jacket. Oh darling, you dropped this. Why the
hell is there a knife in your pocket? Guess you ran off before answering,
and he never thought to tell the police, would you if you were
like us? But listen, Charles leaned closer to the reporter. There were
others, more prominent men. Well, don't leave me hanging here. There's
a popular guy you know San Francisco. You know him. Another guy's an
entertainer. People all across the country know his work. What kind of entertainer?
Stage actor? Writer? Let's just say flights from LA to San Francisco
aren't too expensive. And there's one more. Diplomat from Europe told me some
good details about the night he met the doopler. He was in upper market,
claimed he needed a midnight snack and innuendo, I'll let you decide.
Hey, there need some weed. The suspect took a small tin from his
coat, and showed it off to the diplomat. No thanks, what about
blow? He stared at the dealer for a bit, then check to see
if anyone was around before taking a bump patch Brown's inside. When they went
back to the diplomat's place, the suspect hit in the bathroom for thirty minutes.
When he finally came back, he stabbed that diplomat six times. And
you can't me their names. Don't come on, Chuck, it might save
some lives. I'm sorry, I've probably said too much already. Unfortunately,
police never got far with these three witnesses. The San Francisco public figure moved
and avoided any phone calls. People have assumptions as to who the entertainer was,
but nobody could ever confirm it, and the diplomat is still trying to
be sniffed out. Luckily, though, there were enough eyewitness testimonies for police
to create a sketch and personality profile for the doodler. In November nineteen seventy
five, the sketch was released to the public. We're looking for a young
black man around twenty years old, between five foot ten and six feet tall.
He slim, and many witnesses say he wears a navy type watchcat He
frequents bars in the upper market in Castro areas, but we don't think he
lives in San Francisco. Personality was I assume he's quiet, takes things seriously,
and was raised in an upper middle class family. His intelligence is above
average, and he's likely an art student, as one witness reported the doodler
telling him he was studying commercial art. Question with a sketch now out and
were growing. Tip started coming in more frequently, and the neighborhood was on
high alert. On the night of January twenty third, nineteen seventy six,
a bartender in the Tenderloin area polished glasses and listened to the quiet chatter of
his patrons. The door opened and he cautiously eyed the newcomer, a young
African American who wore a dark hat and carried a sketchbuck glass of CABERNETI.
There the man on the next stool gingerly raised his glass in response. As
the bartender slowly poured the drink, he watched, the new comer removed his
coat, A knife flashed from the inside pocket mind if us sketching patron nervously
giggled as the bartender set the glass down, never removing his eyes from the
artist. Thanks, how much do I owe you? It's on the house.
As the newcomer took out his pen, the bartender marched through the hallway,
where a paythone awaited. Police soon had the suspect and custody for carrying
a weapon into a public place. Why do you guys always assume the black
man's guilty? Did you see the color MOUs game? You realize I'm black
like you? Right? A pig is a pig is a pig. You
entered the bar with a knife. What the hell did you think was gonna
happen? Fuck you? The suspect was charged with the salt, but it's
still unclear whether he was the doodler. You've got a second, someone's on
the phone asking for you. Rotea glared at the enraged suspect. I'll deal
with you in a minute, he says. He's a psychiatrist, last name
of priest. The officers shuffled down the hall determination in their eyes. His
secretary called three days ago, screaming how her boss is patient? Is the
doodler? I thought she was zappy? But just wait. They entered the
office and Rotea picked up the phone. All right, we're both here.
Good. My stomach's been a nonce for weeks because of this doctor patient confidentiality.
You know. My secretary admitted she called a few days ago and well,
I wanted to follow up one of my patients. He's a younger guy,
black. I know beyond any question, he's the stoodler for the past
three or four months. He's been going on and on about how he's killed
gays in the Bay Area. And you didn't think to tell us until now.
How can my patients trust me if I go around having everything they do
running a business, you know? Sure? Sure you got his phone number
or something. Yeah, I have his whole chart here. What's he seeing
you for anyway? Reparative therapy? Thank you, we'll look into it.
You see what's happening here, right. He's probably ashamed of fucking other guys,
you know as well as I do. Homosexuality has never been accepted in
the black community. Ah, so he thinks killing them raises the sin exactly.
Let's get a hold of him, see what he has to say about
his business with doctor priests. They were able to bring the patient in for
questioning Over the course of a year, he was interviewed on and off and
willingly spoke each time, but despite what he told his psychiatrist, he never
confessed the slatings to police. When asked about murdering anyone, he pled the
fifth, and when his sexuality was brought up, he always claimed to have
a stable relationship with a female. If he won't confess, you can't do
anything. We need an eyewitness. We still have contact Infolk for the actor
and the diploma. Both survivors begrudgingly came in and looked at a photo lineup
where they picked out the Doodler, but when asked about testifying and out myself
to the world, absolutely not. With virtually every way of arresting the suspect
exhausted, the case fell to the side and slowly disappeared in history. Most
people I've spoken to have never heard of the Doodler. His story is so
secretive that we don't even know the number of murders he committed. Some say
it could be as many as fourteen. Others argue police at the time,
we're just desperate to close murder cases to appease the gay population, and so
filed more than they should have under the Doodler. Perhaps we don't know a
lot about him because San Francisco's wounds from the Zebra and Zodiac killers were still
fresh, and in less than a decade, gay men across the country would
be struck down by a different kill known as acquired immune deficiency syndrome. The
AIDS epidemics stole the spotlight from the Doodler and claimed way more lives than our
artists could ever attempt. But the case was almost forgotten, not entirely forgotten,
so there's still hope a killer will be brought to justice. Around this
time last year, another serial killer who terrorized California was taken into custody thanks
to a DNA profile. The Golden State killer case was long assumed to remain
unsolved, but thanks to genealogists and investigators, his DNA was used to find
family members and then ultimately Joseph James DeAngelo. Joseph now faces thirteen counts of
murder with special circumstances and thirteen counts of kidnapping for robbery. Police Inspector Dan
Cunningham, who's now in charge of San Francisco's cold case unit, found the
Doudler case and moved it to the front of his list. With the help
of his supervisor, Commander Greg mckeachern, Dan has found new leads in the
case and plans on using crime scene DNA. Kenneth Moses worked in the evidence
lab in the seventies and mature to collect as many blood samples as possible and
dry them thoroughly. If there's no moisture on the samples, they can't decompose
and investigators can get a good DNA profile from them. In February, police
released an age progressed sketch of what the doodler looks like today and informed the
public they've tracked down the suspect Rote interviewed in nineteen seventy six. They say
he's still a suspect, but would not say if he matches the updated sketch.
He's perhaps the easiest one to find, though history has lost the names
of the suspect, psychiatrist and European diplomat who survived an attack, and there's
one major player Rote and never got the name of. Today, Dan hopes
the caller that started at all, the one who didn't feel it necessary to
give his name. Early that morning at Ocean Beach, will now find it
necessary to come forward and reveal any information he might not have found pertinent at
the time. As for the diplomat and psychiatrist, Dan has a few leads,
but has to confirm they're the correct people. In the meantime, all
we can do is sit back and hope whoever was doodling his victims in the
seventies will finally be brought to justice. The artist San Francisco Forgot was written
and edited by me Skyler Fastenell. Jacob Wally voiced the Doodler, Chris Wilson
voice Rotea Guilford and Gerald earl'cavanaugh, Richard Torres voice, j Rick Junior voice,
Charles Morris, the coroner and the Diplomat. Stephen Co voiced doctor Priest
and Klaus Chrisman. Antonio Hill voiced Earl Sanders, the nine one one caller
and twink picked up by the Doodler, Brendan Maple voice Officer Gay Warner Jepson
and doctor Freeman. Sandy McCabe voiced Talba Weiss, the nine one one dispatcher
and Scamp's owner, and Daniel Jones voice to San Francisco Chronicle reporter and bartender.
If you have any information that could help close this case. San Francisco
Police Department's anonymous tipline is four one five five seven five forty four forty four,
or you can text tip for one one with SFPD at the start of
the message. This has been an amazing first season of Deadtime Stories, and
I'm already hard at work putting together a second season with more twisted crimes.
Check back on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Google Play, iHeartRadio, Libson,
or wherever else you listen on July thirty first for new episodes. But if
you can't wait that long, I will be putting out minisodes on Instagram every
Friday. You can find those by following Deadtime Stories podcast on Instagram and checking
out our Facebook page for other updates. In the meantime, Here's what we
learned in today's episode. Words can be hard to discuss an issue that had
plagued the diagnostics and statistical manual. That is so freaking hard to say.
With the boats counted, fifty eight percent support the removal of homosexuality from our
norm. Oh god, my god, let's have some more vodka. Mm
hmm. Hook Up standards have gone up since the seventies Esteve Hunts is such
an ugly drag name, but works us. Listen, she didn't know any
better. She's so dumb, she's dead. He was drawing on a napkin.
I don't go home for a napkin. Start come to the bar with
a canvas next time. He did upgrade to a sketchbook a day. That's
really cute. I probably would have done that. Phone, and my house
is clearly infested with demons. You've been a great subject that the way the
lightning falls on that. So what the do you hear that? What's happening?
I thought that that was just like your phone giving like seventeen messages that
once. It was just it was just my phone, fucking yes, okay, anyways,