This is the conclusion of Catherine’s story. Click here if you haven’t yet read Part 1.

December 1901. Catherine’s trial began in early December, and the proceedings lasted four days. Her attorney, Robert Ash, had done his best to defend her, but he was not sanguine about the outcome. The story was salacious enough to attract attention, but Mrs. Coarum was not a defendant who excited much sympathy. The newspapers described her as a large, powerful woman, with coarse features. She was known to be an incorrigible drinker. Ash had tried to portray her in the best light, a task Catherine made nearly impossible with her frequent outbursts in the courtroom.

The defendant’s husband, Joseph Coarum, had testified in Catherine’s defense. He said when he returned home and heard his wife was in the City Jail, he did his own investigation and turned up some evidence the police had overlooked, including the razor Catherine claimed Daniels had wielded, a bullet that was consistent with the ones that had killed Daniels, and a bullet hole in the steps that proved the victim had shot at his wife.

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San Francisco, California. The newspapers described Gypsy Adams as “a Louisiana girl, of Creole extraction” who was an inmate of one of the Tenderloin’s infamous brothels. The house was owned by Mrs. Mary Mills, known to her employees as “Mother Mary”. Gypsy quickly became well-known in the Tenderloin and her loud crassness and unmoderated drinking and drug use quickly earned the disgust of her peers. But Mrs. Mills was kind to her and refused to turn her out.

August 24, 1901 was a Saturday. Around 8 p.m., Mrs. Mills, who was in her 80s, entered Gypsy’s room and eyed the woman sprawled on the bed. On a bedside table, a lamp filled with coal oil or kerosene. She trusted most of the girls, but not this one. “Gyp,” she called. “Give me that lamp. You’ll knock it over and burn the place down.”

Gypsy sat up suddenly. She looked at Mother Mills with eyes that were unnaturally bright and said, “Sure, I will.” In one rapid movement she grabbed the lamp and threw it with all her strength at Mrs. Mills. It hit the elderly lady squarely on her forehead and her clothing immediately caught light. Mrs. Mills screamed and ran out of the room. It was several minutes before horrified onlookers were able to put out the fire. In the meantime, Mother Mills was badly burnt.

Even as the police were hurrying to the scene, a physician was summoned. After several minutes of searching, the doctor was able to find a tiny area of skin left that was not charred, and here he gave her a shot of morphine to ease her pain. It was not to be expected that Mary Mills would recover, the doctor cautioned.

Gypsy was arrested at once. “She was decidedly the worse for booze,” an arresting officer later explained. “The only thing she seemed to regret was that she had not killed Mother Mills.”

But she had killed her. Mary Mills died in agony six hours after Gypsy threw the burning lamp at her.

A few days later, Gypsy appeared at a preliminary hearing. When asked about who would represent her, the defendant announced her intention to represent herself. She explained that she was wrongly accused. Mother Mills had dropped the lamp and caused her own death.

The police testified to her drunkenness. “She used the vilest language,” one of them added. “And acted more like an insane person than one in her right mind.”

Bessie Turner, another of Mother Mills’ girls, was also in court to testify against her. She had helped wrap a blanket around Mrs. Mills to smother the flames, and the poor woman whispered, “Gyp done it.”

Gypsy was allowed to cross examine the witness. “Aren’t you a dope fiend?” she shrieked at Bessie.

“You’re a liar,” Bessie announced. She stood up suddenly and before she could be stopped, she seized Judge Oster’s gavel and hurled it at Gypsy, who dodged it easily. “The women then exchanged remarks that shocked the courtroom,” The San Francisco Examiner reported.

“Miss Turner suddenly seized the lamp which had caused the destruction of Mother Mills and started for the defendant. She was stopped by Constable Heap.” It took Judge Oster several minutes to restore order to his courtroom, and when he did, he gave Miss Turner a $10 fine for contempt of court. Gypsy was ordered held without bail in the county jail, on a murder charge.

There were 24 inmates in the jail, and Gypsy was the only female. In late September, Gypsy was charged with first degree murder. Frank B. Daley would serve as her court-appointed attorney at her trial on November 19.

On November 22, 1901, Gypsy stood before Judge Bledsoe and claimed she was high on the night Mrs. Mills was murdered. “I ate about half a pound of opium,” she recalled. “I was crazy, I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Daley put up a good fight for his client, and the jury was out for a total of 17 hours. When they finally came back to the courtroom, they returned a merciful verdict. Gypsy was convicted of second degree murder, which carried a penalty of 10 years to life. The prisoner listened passively to her fate, without betraying any emotion.

Gypsy was sentenced on December 9. Judge Bledsoe asked if there was any reason why sentence should not be pronounced, and though she had written a lengthy plea for mercy, Gypsy replied, “No.”

“Very well,” the judge said. He sentenced her to 25 years in San Quentin State Prison.

Gypsy Adams’ San Quentin mug shot (1901)

Not all of Gypsy’s adventures were over. But that is a post for another day!

In 1900, chloral hydrate poisoning was becoming endemic in large cities in the United States. More commonly known at the time by its street name, “knockout drops”, the drug was generally used to facilitate date rape. Unsuspecting women who visited saloons had to watch their beverages carefully, lest some creep add some knockout drops to their drink to incapacitate them.

Chloral hydrate is classified as a sedative and a hypnotic. It has legitimate uses and is still available today, with a prescription. In 1900, you could just walk into a drug store and buy a bottle. It’s most often used to treat insomnia. Chloral isn’t as widely used as many other drugs for the same indication – it’s a tricky substance. The effective dose is close to a fatal dose, and many deaths have been attributed to it. Chloral hydrate was one of the key factors in Marilyn Monroe’s death. It was also one of the 11 prescription drugs found in Anna Nicole’s system when she died.

This story is a bit atypical because the drug was used with the intent to incapacitate and rob a man. On the evening of Thursday, November 15, 1900, three young men walked into Cohen & Lowenthal’s Saloon, on Third Street in San Francisco (across the street from present-day Yerba Buena Center for the Arts). Two of the men, Herman Isaacs and Charles Brady, were friendly with each other. The third man was a soldier named Frank Bowers.

The bartender, John Golden, saw the group walk in and noticed Bowers was fairly intoxicated before he even ordered a drink. A few minutes later, Herman Isaacs sat down next to the soldier. While Bowers was turned in his seat, Isaacs drew a small vial from his pocket and poured the substance into the soldier’s drink.

Bowers was reaching for the glass but quick as a flash, Golden intercepted the glass. He gave it to the police, who sent it off for analysis. When the results came back, it was plain that Golden’s quick thinking had saved Bowers’ life. There was easily enough chloral in the glass to kill a man.


Isaacs and his accomplice Charles Brady merely intended to rob Bowers. On January 31, 1901, Isaacs stood before Judge Cook and pleaded guilty. He sobbed and begged the judge for mercy.

Judge Cook watched Isaacs with some pity. “I feel sorry for the young man,” he said, “But I must make an example of him.” Isaacs was sentenced to five years in San Quentin State Prison. It was a comparatively easy sentence. Had he been found guilty by a jury, he faced a maximum of 10 years in prison.

Isaacs served about 3 1/2 years of his sentence, but he was unchastened in spirit. He later did time in Folsom Prison and Tarrant County Jail in Texas. In 1911, he managed to escape, and a $75 reward was offered for his capture and return.

Herman Isaacs was surprisingly handsome, even when posing for his San Quentin mugshot. He looks a little like Elvis, doesn’t he?