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While they had been around for many years, it was after World War 1 that breach of promise lawsuits became a legal nuisance. They were often called "heart-balm" suits, usually initiated by women who had been scorned by men who had courted them, or by wives whose husbands had left them for someone else. The latter fell into the category of "alienation of affection".

By 1933, such lawsuits — increasingly filed by men as well as women — were clogging the courts, prompting the following column by one of America's most amusing and quotable writers:

Syracuse Journal, November 20, 1933
By HELEN ROWLAND
King Features

No man who has reached the Indian summer of life and has more than seventy-five cents to his name, should be permitted to carry a fountain pen or to keep an inkwell in his room.

A baby playing with the ink bottle can only get it in his hair and ruin the rugs; but an impressionable man can mess up his whole life, embarrass his family, and wreck his fortune, just by a few scratches of his pen.

I do not care to make my country’s laws — I am content to make its wisecracks. But, for my life, I cannot understand why that obsolete law, which permits a woman to collect “heart balm” because a man has changed his mind, has not been junked, long ago, with steel corsets and high bicycles.

In those quaint old days when marriage was a woman’s bread-and-butter, and when girls were unsophisticated and knew nothing of “the facts of life,” such a law may have been chivalrous and beneficent. Although, even then, a perfect lady preferred a shotgun wedding to a public scandal. She was after a wedding ring, not money.

But in these days, when the women do at least 50 percent of the courting and when they are taught in grammar school more than their mothers and grandmothers know about biology, love and “the big, bad wolf,” that law merely encourages another “racket.”

Why on earth can’t a man change his mind about whether or not he wants to marry a woman! And why can’t a woman change her’s about marrying a man?

We can break our dinner dates at the last moment; we can break our solemn promise to play golf or join a bridge party. We can order things sent C.O.D. — and promptly send them back to the shop if we don’t like them. We can promise to vote for a political candidate — and change our minds on election day. We can hire a man — and fire him next day, if he doesn’t make good. But we’ve got only one guess in the most important decision of our lives!

How does a man know, in the first flush and glamour of romance, when his head is swimming and his eyes are full of stardust, whether it’s really love or only dalliance or springtime or wine that’s making the world go ‘round?

How does he know, until after he’s engaged to a girl, whether or not there is a vitriolic temper under those silky waves of innocent gold hair? Or whether or not there is a cold, calculating glint behind those limpid brown eyes? Or what cutting things or stupid things those scented, kissable lips can say? How does a man know anything about a woman, until she thinks she had him safely landed and can be herself?

He doesn’t! Because a man never uses his mind when he falls in love — he waits until he loses it. But, if there is a law prohibiting the sale of firearms to minors, there really ought to be a law to prohibit selling fountain pens to middle-aged gentlemen.

Because, as somebody has said, “The thing that a gold-digger always saves up for a rainy day is some man’s love letters.”

That bill in the New York State legislature was not passed in 1933, but two years later, breach of promise to marry and alienation of affection lawsuits were abolished.

Most states have taken similar action where alienation of affection is concerned. Breach of promise to marry lawsuits can still be filed in a majority of our states. However, compensation may cover only incurred expenses, not the claimed pain and suffering of a broken heart.

In 1933 there were all kinds of "heart-balm" lawsuits. Key evidence was often letters written by the offending party. Here are a few of the cases that made the news.

 
Oh, no, not him again!

 

Syracuse Journal, January 21, 1933
NEW YORK (INS) — Three letters signed “Jim,” and allegedly written by James A. Stillman, wealthy banker, to vivacious Mrs. Marjorie Rochefort, will form the basis of Luc Rochefort’s $200,000 alienation of affection suit against the former head of the National City Bank, it developed today.

The letters, together with photostatic copies, were turned over to Alfred Becker, Rochefort’s attorney, by the former Montreal politician yesterday. Beyond declaring the missives would be his “ace in the hole” in his court action against the financier, Rochefort declined to discuss them.
 

Only two days earlier it had been reported Luc Rochefort would be filing two lawsuits — one for libel — and demanding $1 million. The libel accusation apparently stemmed from Stillman's stated suspicion that Rochefort had used his wife to create a situation he could exploit for financial gain.

Stillman was an obvious target. The banking executive had been involved in an incredibly long and dirty divorce action throughout the 1920s, accusing his then-wife Anne Urquhart Potter of having a child by a half-blood Canadian guide. After almost five years of battling, the Stillmans apparently reconciled, but in 1931 she quietly divorced him and quickly married Harold Fowler McCormick Jr., a grandson of John D. Rockefeller. The new Mrs. McCormick was 18 years younger than her husband.

Stillman, certainly no angel throughout his marriage, continued his womanizing ways, but never remarried. Mrs. Rochefort said, in this case, Stillman was a supportive, nothing more, and had financed a beauty parlor she opened in Havana with a friend, Astrid Haug.

Mrs. Rochefort's mother, Mrs. Emily Baker, agreed, adding Rochefort was upset because his wife wouldn't share the money Stillman had contributed to the business venture.

Both women agreed the Rochefort marriage had been little more than a series of separations. There was no love for Stillman to steal.

As for those three letters signed "Jim," they meant absolutely nothing. Rochefort quickly dropped the libel lawsuit, and asked for $200,000 in "heart balm." He persisted for about two years before the case was dismissed. Or laughed out of court. One or the other.

Luc Rochefort was a Canadian who made an unsuccessful run for mayor of Montreal. Along the way he patented an umbrella, which he hoped to promote in the United States. People were always saying what the country needed was a good ten-cent cigar; well, Rochefort thought he could make a lot of money selling ten-cent umbrellas.

Neither the umbrellas nor his lawsuit paid off for him.

As for Stillman, he died in 1944, leaving his four children and his ex-wife wondering what happened to all his money. When he passed away, the man, who at one time had about $11 million, was more than $200,000 in debt.

 
 
There's something about boxers

 

New York Sun, June 30, 1933
LONDON (UP) — Emilia Tercini, the London waitress who recently won a $14,000 breach of promise suit against Primo Carnera, was greatly elated at the Italian’s victory over Jack Sharkey.

“I sent him a cable telling him I hoped he would win regardless of everything,” she told the press. “Perhaps my message helped him. He’s a true champion. He won despite his worries, and it was a great victory for Italy. Bravo Primo.”
 

Miss Tercini may have wished Carnera luck in hopes of finally collecting her $14,000 — $14,616, to be exact. With that victory over Sharkey on June 29, in New York City, Carnera became the world heavyweight boxing champion.

The woman's lawyer tried to collect the money from Carnera's share of the purse, but a New York State Supreme Court judge, with the dubious name of Peter Schmuck, ruled in favor of the boxer, who had shrewdly purchased land in Italy, and had already assigned his winnings to his manager, who happened to be the seller of that land.

The number one challenger for Carnera's title was Max Baer, himself the defendant in a breach of promise suit which, after lingering for two years, was thrown out on July 13, 1933.

A woman named Olive Beck contended Baer jilted her to marry actress Dorothy Dunbar. The Baer-Dunbar marriage lasted just a few weeks longer than the lawsuit. They were divorced on October 4, 1933. Though it endured only 27 months, this was the longest of Miss Dunbar's first five marriages. Number six, Russell Lawson, proved to be a keeper. They married in 1937 and remained together until he died in 1965.

Heavyweight boxers seemed to be fair game. In 1921, piano-playing song writer Al Siegal sued Jack Dempsey for $250,000, claiming Dempsey had alienated the affections of Mrs. Siegal, much better known as Bee Palmer, a popular singer-dancer. The suit was eventually dropped.

In 1929 Mrs. Katherine Fogarty tried to collect $500,000 from then-champion Gene Tunney, for breach of promise. Tunney settled the matter for $35,000 and the return of his letters.

 
 
Well, it's better than nothing

 

Buffalo Courier-Express, March 17, 1933
ROCHESTER, New York, March 16 (AP) — A would-be bridegroom today sued the woman he courted for three years for breach of promise, demanding $20,000. A supreme court jury awarded him $500.

The woman, formerly Miss Emily Beaney, now Mrs. Hugh J. Coyle, 36, of Spencerport, failed to appear to defend the suit. Nevertheless, the jury took five hours to determine the extent of the damages claimed by Joseph J. Penders, Geneva real estate and insurance man.

Penders, one of the few men to bring such a suit against a woman, alleged he gave the former Miss Beaney an engagement ring and even went so far as to obtain a wedding ring and a marriage license on June 9, 1930.

When she “left him at the altar” to marry Coyle, 58, less than a month later, he suffered a nervous breakdown, Penders told the jury.

 

Meanwhile, about 90 miles to the east, an alienation of affection suit was almost comic relief for Mrs. Esther Goler of Syracuse.

The lawsuit asked for $12,000 — marked down from the original demand of $25,000. Mrs. Goler was separated from her husband, Michael. The couple had been battling in court almost three years. They ran a fish market together until, he complained, she kicked him out of their home and their business. She then hired William Brenner to help at the fish market, which led to the alienation of affection suit filed in 1931 by Brenner's wife, Lena.

The case dragged on for two years before it finally was heard on March 16, the same day as the Rochester case (above). Only here the jury ruled Mrs. Brenner had no cause for action.

Since 1931, Mrs. Goler had been the plaintiff or defendant in nine cases involving her husband or Mrs. Brenner, and she won them all. Twice during that time, burglars tried to break into her house and she chased them off both times. Finally, a short circuit caused an electrical fire at her home, but the Syracuse fire department responded quickly and put out the fire with slight damage.

 
 
She thought he could afford it

 

New York Sun, October 24, 1933
A $100,000 breach of promise suit has been filed in Supreme Court against Police Captain John W. Kenna, whose $236,000 bank deposits came in for considerable investigation during the Seabury inquiry into the magistrates’ courts.

Plaintiff in the suit is Mrs. Aimee Dolores Decker, a widow from Houston, Texas, who alleges she met Kenna on a Florida-bound steamship in November, 1932, received gifts, telegrams and letters from him, and came to New York last April expecting to marry him.

She said she did not know why the romance broke up.
 

It would be three years before this case went away, and it was all for nothing. Mrs. Decker actually won a judgment for the full amount at one point, because Kenna failed to answer the suit, but he then convinced the court he had never been served with papers so that he could file an answer.

Finally, on October 27, 1936, the situation was reversed. Mrs. Decker failed to respond after the case was called for trial.

Notice of the lawsuit in 1933 reminded people of the large deposits the policeman had made. Samuel Seabury, who led an investigation a few years earlier, believed the money came from speakeasy graft. Kenna and his mother claimed the money came from rent charged to tenants in buildings she owned. To me, the kicker was the claim Kenna's mother also loaned money to people. A loan shark?

Kenna was so upset that he sued Seabury and members of his committee for $500,000 for defamation of character, another case that went nowhere.

In 1941, then-Deputy Inspector John W. Kenna was under investigation again. He and his wife, Zena, whom he married in 1935, were about to go on vacation in late April when he committed suicide by shooting himself at his home in Forest Hills.

A few weeks later, his widow started court proceeding to find out what happened to the $250,000 her husband was supposed to have. All she received from his estate was $1,200.

 
 
A bargain at $65,000

 

Syracuse American, November 5, 1933
CHICAGO, November 4 (INS) — Denial that Harold F. McCormick is seeking settlement of Mrs. Rhoda Tanner Doubleday’s $1.5 million breach of promise suit was made today at the office of John P. Wilson, of counsel for Mr. McCormick.

Mr. Wilson, it was explained, is in New York for a directors’ meeting, and not in connection with the heart balm case.
 

If you were paying very close attention to the first item on this page, you'd have noticed the name Harold F. McCormick as the second husband of Anne Urquhart Potter, aka the first Mrs. James A. Stillman.

Well, that was Harold F. McCormick Jr. It was his father who was sued for $1.5 million by Mrs. Rhoda Tanner Doubleday.

There was speculation in November that lawyers for McCormick Sr. would agree to settle for $250,000, but the actual offer, not made until 1934, was much lower. Mrs. Doubleday pocketed $65,000, minus her lawyer's fee, of course.

McCormick Sr. was chairman of the board of International Harvester Company. His first wife was Edith Rockefeller, youngest daughter of John D. Rockefeller. They had five children, but divorced in 1921. A year later he married Ganna Walska, a native of Poland, who, at 35, was still determined to become an opera star. Apparently she didn't have a particularly good voice, though it's difficult to believe she was as bad as some people have written.

McCormick did his best to help, mounting an expensive production at the Chicago Opera to feature her in the starring role. The result was a disaster that was incorporated into the married life of Charles Foster Kane in Orson Welles' classic film "Citizen Kane," though most of its was based on William Randolph Hearst.

 
 

Aimee Semple McPherson, celebrity evangelist, went through a nasty divorce in 1933 from a man who resembled the Pillsbury Dough Boy, Dave Hutton, who earlier had been hit by the "heart-balm" suit filed by Myrtle St. Pierre, a Pasadena nurse, who was awarded $5,000. Hutton hoped wife Aimee would pay. She didn't. When their marriage ended, Hutton, returned to a singing career of sorts, and was promptly sued by his lawyers for the $7,500 he owed them.

Which brings us to perhaps the most talked about alienation of affection suit of 1933.

 
Lost a battle, she'd win the war

Syracuse Journal, September 15, 1933
LOS ANGELES (INS) — “The verdict is outrageous! I haven’t 75 cents. Certainly I shall appeal the judgment.”

This was the comment today of Claire Windsor, stage and screen actress, on the decision of a jury that she had alienated the affections of Alfred C. Read Jr., and that she pay Mrs. Marian L. Read, socially prominent in Oakland, California, $75,000 damages.

“This excessive verdict is no doubt the result of prejudice against the profession I have chosen as my life’s work,” declared Miss Windsor.

Mrs. Read, on the other hand, said, “Oh. I’m so happy. Isn’t it wonderful? I knew that I would win.”

Read, stunned by the verdict, said: “I can’t understand it. The whole thing is very unjust to Miss Windsor. Although I don’t like to say anything against the mother of my children, I still maintain that Miss Windsor did not alienate my affections.”

The verdict of $75,000 — largest heart balm award returned here in recent years — was $25,000 under the amount demanded by the divorced wife of the San Francisco-Oakland broker. It was reached by a vote of nine to three.

Defense attorneys today were prepared to move to have the verdict set aside or ask a new trial. If the motion fails, said attorney Leonard Wilson, he will immediately file notice of appeal.

Nine ballots were cast in three hours before the jury of seven men and five women agreed late yesterday. On the first ballot, some of the jurors wanted to grant Mrs. Read the entire amount she sought — $100,000. As the deadlock continued, the jurors voted on different amounts to award Mrs. Read, finally reaching the $75,000 judgment.

The nine jurors who voted the award said they felt Mrs. Read, as a wife and mother, lost her husband’s love through the letter-writing campaign of Miss Windsor. All believed the golden-haired actress had pursued the wealthy young broker.

Two jurors refused to vote a cent to Mrs. Read, stating they did not believe Miss Windsor had stolen Read’s love. A third juror voted for Miss Windsor in the belief the $75,000 verdict was too high.

 

The career of Claire Windsor, 41 years old at the time, was in decline, having peaked in the silent films of the 1920s. She had a well-earned reputation for having affairs with her co-stars, and was twice married — and divorced.

Alfred Read Jr., usually described as a broker, was 14 years younger. He met Miss Windsor on a cross-country train ride and did not admit he had a wife — not until his new relationship was fairly well established. And then he told the actress he and his wife were about to divorce.

Before this story was finished, young Mr. Read would come across as a very strange person, but one who had a way with the ladies.

Miss Windsor fell hard, believing she and Read would marry, and that she could retire from acting. She made the mistake of writing letters, which somehow wound up in the hands of Read's wife.

Read later admitted he "swapped them [the letters] for endearments," and his wife confessed she and Read continued to have marital relations while she prepared for the trial.

Reportedly Read also shared with his wife details of his romance with the actress, along with photos that were taken of them together. Claire Windsor's track record with men indicated she was a pushover, and she lived up to her reputation.

Read fancied himself an athlete, and to cash in on his sudden notoriety, a month after the trial he made his debut as a professional boxer.

On October 11, he went into the ring against a young middleweight named Jimmy Mello — and was knocked out in less than two minutes. It would be the only victory in Mello's 11-fight career. Read retired from boxing the same night.

Two weeks later Read and his wife were divorced. She made sure the decree insured her ex-husband would have no claim to any of the money she received from Miss Windsor.

This helped counter those who believed Read and his wife had plotted his affair as a way to make money. Also, in his defense, Read testified against his wife in the trial. Even Read's mother got into the act, saying the actress had been misled by her son.

Meanwhile, Read faced a new problem. Seems he visited Claire Windsor to express his regrets on how the trial had gone, and while he was at her home, he stole $11 from her purse. She filed a complaint with the police and Read was found guilty and sentenced to 30 days in jail. Miss Windsor was a woman scorned, and you know what they say about such women.

On the other hand, there was good news for the actress. The $75,000 judgment against her was overturned by Superior Court Judge J. P. Sproul, who granted the actress a new trial.

Soon two other actresses, Julie Carter and Dorothy Granger, came forward to say Alfred Read Jr. had romanced them, too, claiming to be single.

There was no second trial. The matter of Marian Reed vs. Claire Windsor was settled out of court. My guess is Claire Windsor's opening offer was in the range of seventy-five cents.

Alfred Read Jr. and his attractive ex-wife apparently disappeared from public view thereafter.

Claire Windsor's screen career fizzled out over the next few years. She did some stage work and took up painting. Born Clara Viola Cronk in Cawker City, Kansas, she died of a heart attack in Hollywood in 1972, at the age of 80.

 
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