TRUE CRIME WITH JAMES BARTLETT

“I came across a story about an unhappy-looking blonde who had checked into a Hollywood hotel and was linked to the scandalous murder of Cecil Wells in far-off Alaska.”  Okay, was it just because you couldn’t find anything written on this story that captured you to write it?  What continued to intrigue you?
When I read about the circumstances of the murder – and the later suicide of Diane Wells – I was astounded there wasn’t a movie about the case, let alone more information online, as it seemed such a quintessential film noir, especially since the inter-racial affair between Diane and Johnny Warren would have been a big deal too.
Later I found the story had indeed been covered in many magazines – both of the serious and pulp variety – but more than that, I was just curious. What had really happened the night of the murder, and what happened to Marquam Wells, the 3-year-old son of Cecil and Diane?
When I found out that the family members knew little about what had happened either, and hadn’t seen Marquam in years, it became a real mystery that got its hooks into me. Now however I was trying to find answers not only for myself, but for several generations of people.    

Why chase this story and not an untold Hollywood story since much of your other work is involved in Los Angeles?
Well, about half of The Alaskan Blonde does take place in Hollywood. It was where Diane and Marquam came as soon as she made bail, and where her friend William Colombany, the so-called “Third Suspect”, also came to as well, in order to be her constant companion. He was arrested in LA twice too, and of course Diane committed suicide in Hollywood.
The Alaska connection was especially interesting to me though, as I knew very little about the huge state (which in 1953 was still a territory), and that added another level of complexity.
 
I found I couldn’t put this story down. I needed to find out “who did it.” I am fascinated, however, with your take on Diane at the beginning of your investigation—compared to your overall discovery. How did you find yourself relating to her as the investigation developed?
Thanks, I’m so glad that you found it a compelling read. It’s ultimately a difficult and unhappy story overall, with so many contradictions and ideas that change over the course of the narrative.
Initially, Diane was very much seen by many people – and particularly the press – as a young, blonde gold-digger who was clearly after Cecil’s money, and probably killed him for it so she could run off with her *gasp* Black lover.
But talking to people who knew her, especially her eldest daughter from her first marriage, Saundra, revealed a different, more complex person. Saundra and her younger sister Bonnie never saw their mother after the divorce, and Saundra was justifiably angry about that – but my research led me to believe Diane hadn’t forgotten her daughters at all; her letters and calls probably weren’t passed on.
Other stories too showed Diane was someone very different from the narrow, titillating media portrayal. She was no angel per se (she was always the most attractive woman in the room, and seemingly initiated a short but passionate affair with Johnny, despite her many denials), but in Cecil she had an abusive, jealous husband, and found herself living in a very small town with challenging extremes of weather.
Moreover, it seemed she suffered from postnatal depression, then a condition all but unknown to the medical community (as was the term “domestic abuse”), and before she died, she was depressed and taking barbiturates.
I couldn’t relate to much of that directly of course, but I began to get more of an understanding of her – or at least what might have been an understanding – the more I heard and read about her.
 
You write from a journalistic and investigative point of view, but I found that you sometimes gave a “first-person” opinion. Was it hard not to become involved with the characters you presented?
I was urged by several friends – and potential publishers – to put more of myself in the story; to relate it more to my life, as that is very much a popular tactic in true crime writing.
It’s true to say that true crime books are often written by people directly connected to the case or the victim, but that wasn’t the case with me. I didn’t know anyone involved, had never been to Alaska (at the time), and wasn’t even alive when it happened. The focus should be on the living family members I felt, not on me. And besides, as a journalist I always find other people more interesting; they’re the ones I want to meet and interview.

You will occasionally step away from the investigation to offer historical information about Alaska or other biographical information on organizations or witnesses.  Why did you feel this added information—not necessarily relevant to the actual murder—necessary?
Again, that was something suggested to me, mainly because most people know very little about Alaska, let alone Fairbanks, even today. I spoke to some people in The Big I pub in Fairbanks who told me that tourists – foreign and American – often think Alaska is an island. Why? Because it’s in a box on the TV weather forecast, so they assumed it was like Hawaii!
As for background about other organizations or witnesses, I included that because I wanted to give a rounded look at the whole picture. More practically, I didn’t have an overabundance of witness interviews to draw from, as the case happened 70 years ago.
 
If you were to write another True Crime novel, what would you like to tackle as a mode of craft that you didn’t attempt here?
I would still be uncomfortable about inserting myself into the story unless it actually happened that way, though I would certainly try to avoid reexamining crimes from so long ago because, as I mentioned, almost everyone involved with them has passed away, or cannot remember much about it. The police/FBI files related to them are less likely to still be available either.

What advice would you give someone wanting to write a True Crime book?
A golden rule is to befriend and always be kind to the librarians, archivists, historical society volunteers, museum staff, law enforcement officials and others that you encounter during your research. They nearly always really want to help, and can access places and have ideas you’d never think of – maybe even find something vital that will help you.
As for doing interviews, just be patient and respectful, and make sure to listen to what your interviewees are saying, even if they take some time getting to the subject.
Recalling and talking about an act of violence or tragedy – even if it was decades ago – is always going to be difficult if not traumatic, though I often found that people wanted to talk, and wanted answers (even if they weren’t the ones they wanted to hear). Almost anything is better than the black hole of not knowing.

I always find coincidences to be karmic. You suggest this in your Epilogue. Do you still feel that way? Have you written other stories that have given you this same cycle of events in life?
As any true crime writer will tell you: you couldn’t make these things up. There’s also nothing stranger than real people, and what they will do and say to each other.
In fact, there was another utterly bizarre karmic coincidence that I found out about after the book had been published. In the early days of my research, a bookstore called Book Soup in West Hollywood asked for local writers to come and be “living exhibits” in their window.
My wife Wendall Thomas, who is the novelist behind the Cyd Redondo mysteries, and I both signed up, and there’s a picture of me in the window, sat at a desk with my laptop. I took a large picture of Diane in a frame with me too, so I could show passers-by who I was writing about.
Years later, I found a picture of where the mortuary where Diane was taken to after her death: it’s now the location of the Book Soup bookstore.

I know your Gourmet Ghosts books. Do you plan to do more of these, or do you plan to stay with true crime?
People often ask about another book, but I vowed that the bars, restaurants and hotels I featured – and the true crimes, ghost and celebrity stories that happened behind their doors – must have a solid backstory in terms of the newspaper archives/witness accounts, and though I look into new and old locations all the time, I still haven’t found enough good ones to justify a whole new book.
As for true crime, there was another death that happened in Fairbanks – coincidentally also in the Northward Building, where Cecil Wells was murdered – that someone messaged me about.
It’s a very suspicious suicide from the 1970s, and I’ve got a couple of witness interviews already, though the current family members, of course understandably, have not replied to any of my letters, emails, messages or calls.
Unless I hear from one of them or more, whether it’s a book or not will probably come down to whether I can get the FBI file on the case. I have the file number, but they sent a standard response to my FOIA request, and so I appealed.
If that doesn’t go my way, I may well use the circumstances of the case as the basis for a fictional mystery/crime story in the future (though that’s moving into my wife’s lane, as she calls it, so I have to tread carefully!).
 
 What are you working on now?
At the moment I’m writing and pitching the travel/lifestyle/feature pieces I write as a freelance journalist, and working at my regular day job – got to pay those bills!
But every now and then I come across a great historical crime story, or just a very weird one, and go down the research rabbit hole. Sometimes there’s an article in it for Crime Reads, or LA Magazine or somewhere else, but sometimes not.
Even so, the thrill of finding something in the archives and wondering “what happened?” keeps me going!

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