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The Saga of Pete Cassidy:

Vice, Violence, and Criminal Enterprise in San Diego

 

 

Pete Cassidy arrived in San Diego on April 2, 1886, virtually penniless, on the run from the law and using an assumed name. During the next thirty-one years he would build up an empire of vice, letting no one get in his way...

 

 

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The Saga of Pete Cassidy

 

By Joshua Camp

Copyright 2015

 

       When Emma Lazarus wrote “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,”1 it is doubtful that she knew just how well known those lines would become. The year was 1883, and the citizens of New York were ardently raising money for a majestic statue, one that was being constructed far from its eventual home. Though the copper sections would not arrive in New York Harbor for two more years, the now immortalized words of Lazarus had come and gone. America is often described as a nation of immigrants, and that was never more true than during the nineteenth century. Up until the 1880s immigration was largely unrestricted, and even then, the limitations were racially and geographically focused on the Far East. Many immigrants came from Europe, owning nothing but a hope that their children could do better, could make a life for themselves in this vast nation. That dream became true for countless thousands of families, people who put down roots and strengthened the foundations of our modern day state. But with every opportunity there are always those who seek to pervert and corrupt, to flaunt the system and to seek dishonest gain. This is a story of one of those native born children, a man whose parents epitomized Lazarus’ “huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” The same year those lines were written this man was plying his trade, one of violence and crime. This is a story of San Diego and the notorious “Stingaree” district. This is the saga of Pete Cassidy.

 

***

       Born Patrick Cavanaugh on February 27, 1860, in or near the Douglas Community of Chicago’s South Side, Peter Cassidy was the son of illiterate Irish immigrants. He was the middle child: his older brother Daniel was born in 1857 while his younger sister was born in 1871. Patrick’s childhood was marked by the advent and conclusion of the deadliest war in U.S. history and by a terrible fire that ravaged the city. It was also marked by an enormous population boom in Chicago, the city increasing fivefold over a twenty year period. Unfortunately, however, his mother Bridget would soon become a widow, left to raise two unruly boys and a daughter much younger than her older brothers. Though little more can be said of his childhood, by his late teens Patrick had joined Daniel in the employ of the Union Iron and Steel Company. He also started moonlighting on the side as a petty criminal with multiple arrests, an occupation that would soon gain more and more traction in his young life.

       On a dark night in January of 1881, Patrick and Daniel used a measure of dynamite to blow open the safe at their employer, Union Iron and Steel, absconding with $10,000 dollars in cash. The scope and audacity of the robbery filled the papers, and Patrick (known to the police as Paddy) was quickly arrested. The money was recovered, and the brothers were tried and convicted. Five months after the robbery they were sent off to serve time at Joliet Prison, forty miles southwest of Chicago. Bridget had lost her husband, and now she was losing her boys. And if that were not enough, three months later Kate took ill and died, eventually being laid to rest next to Patrick Sr. in Calvary Cemetery. After a relatively brief sentence the Cavanaugh brothers were released and put back on the streets, where they rapidly returned to their old ways.

        Less than three years after the brother’s initial imprisonment, the Chicago Police Department sent telegrams up and down the coast of Lake Michigan, north of the city, warning of the possible approach of Paddy Cavanaugh, the “notorious Chicago safe blower.”2 Suspected of cracking a safe in nearby Manitowoc, Patrick was found loitering in front of Milwaukee’s The Exchange Hotel early in the morning of June 21, 1884. Alerted to the suspicious character, Officer Frank Piszczek approached Patrick and sought to escort him to the station for questioning. As they disappeared into the fog, Patrick pulled a gun and shots rang out. Officer Piszczek was mortally wounded, and Patrick was on the run. Not staying in any one place for long, Patrick would not stop moving until he reached San Diego a year and a half later.

 

***

       The 1880s were a boom time for San Diego. Catalyzed by the arrival of the railroad in the middle of the decade, the city went from a population of around 5,000 to one upward of 40,000 three years later in 1888.3 San Diego had much to offer people: an excellent climate, a sheltered port, and an international border only sixteen miles to the south. In 1867 Alonzo Horton constructed a wharf at the foot of Fifth Street, strategically located in the heart of the land constituting his “Addition.” This new connection to the international sea lanes caused the budding town to develop in proximity to Fifth Street.4 As the years passed, the region near the wharf attracted the business of characters on the “rough” side: sailors, propagators of vice, and women of ill-repute, to name but a few. It is not known for sure when the neighborhood became known as the “Stingaree,” but historian Elizabeth MacPhail points to several mentions in the newspapers of the early 1880s as the earliest references.5 Literally referring to the barb of a stingray, the Stingaree became known for fleecing people dry and leaving them penniless, if not “shanghaied” or brutally beaten. When Patrick Cavanaugh arrived in San Diego with his brother Daniel, there was a plethora of opportunity for exploitation and criminal enterprise.

       According to his own recollection, Patrick Cavanaugh (now known and referred to as Peter “Pete” Cassidy) arrived in San Diego on April 2, 1886.6 He was taller than average, standing at 5′10′′, and shared his brother’s pale complexion, dark hair and steely gray eyes.  It is not known if Daniel arrived at the same time or shortly after, but he too had become a “Cassidy.” As they settled into their new city, the brothers worked odd jobs and regularly got into trouble. While most of the transcripts of Pete’s multitude of run-ins with the law are lost (or never kept/recorded to begin with), one surviving document provides a telling look at his early days, as well as life in the Stingaree. Less than a year after arriving, Pete was involved in a raucous brawl in a back room of the Railroad Saloon, and later charged with assault with a deadly weapon.  The following are non-sequential excerpts of the preliminary examination, held on January 11, 1887:

 

Charles Brown [witness for the defendants, being questioned by Cassidy]

 

“I was telling you when we got into the room, he [Tom McDonald, the alleged victim] had a pitcher, and he asked who had a quarter, and somebody gave him a quarter, and there were two women in the room, and he introduced me to one of the women, and said that was his woman, and that I could do anything I wanted to her if I had only had the coin, and he says there is Cassidy over there to cut me out of the women, and he said if he don’t keep out of this room, he will get his head cut off.”

 

Peter Cassidy [on the stand, testifying in his own defense]

 

“I went into this house, or this room, and I had a little beer in. I was invited to this room several times by this man [Tom McDonald], and every time to get beer money out of me. I went over to this room, and I was sitting on the bed, and in comes McDonald, and he asks me where is Lizzie, and I says I don’t know where Lizzie is, and he said produce her, you damned son-of-bitch or I will do what I said I would, and I got up and I said what did you say that you will do to me, and what will you do to me, and he says you son-of-a-bitch if you do not tell me where she is I will murder you, and with that he struck me, and I struck him, and after that we got out of the door, he commenced to cut me with a knife…”7  

 

It is unknown what the exact outcome of this particular case was, but an examination of the surviving documents implies that Pete spent the next two months in the city jail. Either way, Pete was fast gaining a reputation in the city.

       Pete’s first years in San Diego were solely characterized by these types of incidents. The San Diego Union offered up the following blurb on March 18, 1887: “Peter Cassidy, a bruiser by trade and a tough by reputation, was yesterday arrested for sponging the pockets of a drunken man. It is said he secured only 75 cents.”8 Pete was attributed to other petty robberies during his early years in the city, and also was thought to be the ring leader of a gang of toughs. As late as December of 1889 the newspapers referred to the “Cassidy Gang,”9 before the story abruptly ceased. This particular incident involved an alleged member of the gang who was arrested for trying to steal from the Deputy U.S. Marshall’s office. The judge dismissed the case on the grounds that the defendant was drunk and didn’t know better, while the U.S. Marshall was simultaneously approached by an unknown person offering $50 to not prosecute. The San Diego Union pledged to get to the bottom of the mystery, but the story was never concluded. Pete’s reputation was cemented by the time the 1880s rolled into the 1890s, as demonstrated here, in context of yet another assault: “About twenty persons witnessed the assault upon Kelly, and all denounce it as most brutal and fiendish in its character. Cassidy’s place has long been noted as one of the most disreputable in the city. It is a constant resort of the very lowest types of gamblers, opium fiends, petty thieves, and all around crooks generally.”10 The victim, James Kelly, skipped town after being tended to. He was too afraid to prosecute.

       Paralleling all of this brutality, Pete was immersing himself in the city on the legitimate side. He made his first entrance into the political arena in 1887, being named a delegate to name candidates for the Labor ticket. He also emerged as a boxer, fighting a bout at Leach’s Opera and winning the $100 purse, as well as a portion of the receipts. On February 13, 1888, Father Anthony D. Ubach, performed the marriage ceremony of Pete and his bride, Mary “Annie” Gable of Illinois. The following year, 1889, saw Pete listed for his first employer, running a saloon at Sixth and K Street. Later in 1889 Pete would be named as a paid member of the fledgling San Diego Fire Department. By 1891 Pete was running the Eclipse Saloon at 438 Fifth Street, in the heart of the Stingaree. During his time at the Eclipse Pete would officially claim to be a cooper by trade.

       Though ultimately having little impact on Cassidy’s life as a whole, this period also saw Pete become well acquainted with Wyatt Earp, the near mythical lawman and hero of Tombstone, Arizona. Just preceding the arrival of the railroad, Wyatt and his common-law wife, Josephine, moved to San Diego in 1887. Though how the two men first met is not known, both Pete and Wyatt were involved in boxing matches (Pete as a boxer, Wyatt as a referee), and both were involved in the saloon industry. In January of 1890 Pete was involved in an incident involving Constable Barney Manning, and a bribe that theoretically was lost in transit. Two of the major newspapers, the San Diego Union and the San Diego Sun, offer conflicting accounts, but the bribe in question was either to allow Wyatt Earp’s faro games to exist unmolested, or the bribe was to allow Jack Holland’s “notorious dens” to operate in a similar manner.11 Either way, Manning accused Cassidy of not delivering the $1,700 payoff, and an altercation soon broke out. Wyatt Earp was also present at the unspecified saloon, and with the assistance of the chief of the San Diego Fire Department, quickly separated the combatants. (As a paid member of fire department, on paper at least, Pete would also have been acquainted with the fire chief.) The story, and all the questions it raised, no longer appeared in the newspapers after that initial day of reporting. Not long after the incident, Cassidy and Wyatt were again linked together on the printed page. During the process and charges relating to the aforementioned assault of James Kelly by Pete Cassidy, one of the two bail bondsmen was none other than Wyatt Earp. Together with Till Burnes, he put up $500 to spring Cassidy from jail.12         

       The 1890s would prove to be a tumultuous time for Pete and Annie. Between 1893 and 1894 the lot where Cassidy’s Saloon would reside, encompassing 450 Fifth Street, was purchased in Annie’s name. The Eclipse Saloon, having been listed at two different addresses may have moved from 438 up to 450, or they may have been one and the same and just changed numbers. Whatever the actual details are, Pete’s saloon running days would be in constant strife with the city and county. Lacking the authority to deal with the saloons directly, or at least, lacking the concrete willpower, the local government would use the issuance of liquor licenses to deal with the unsavory elements of the business and prohibit them from selling alcohol. Pete would be in a seemingly endless cycle of fighting for or defending his liquor license for the rest of his life. In the days before the temperance movement was going full steam, a San Diego Union reporter wrote, “As fast as the liquor men show up and plunk down gold for the licenses the criminal cases against them are being dismissed.”13 As much as change was wanted by some, money in the city coffers would prove to be the ultimate persuasion. The constant conflict with the burgeoning temperance movement may also have had another consequence, that of unifying the saloon owners and operators.

       The reputation that built up around Cassidy during his early years in San Diego would continue to be reinforced, and he began to achieve a certain notoriety around town. When he appeared as a witness during the murder trial concerning Joseph Brown’s death, the San Diego Union wrote, “Everybody had heard of Pete Cassidy, but many in the crowd had never seen him.”14 People were getting curious. His name had appeared in the news so many times. The San Diego Police were getting to know him as well. At 3 AM on September 22, 1893, Pete assaulted Officer A.M. Coats behind Russ House. Pete briefly went into hiding before being arrested. Judge Dudley let him off with a $10 fine and a warning against his “evil ways.”15 The Police Department was not so lenient in their opinion, telling the newspaper that “he is counted among the police as the worst character in the city, and one of the toughest desperadoes on the coast.”16 While there are other notable events during this time period, incidents that this brief narrative is unable to cover, the two most important come near the turn of the century. In 1899 Dan Cassidy would be murdered by Russian Mike in Dan’s saloon, the Pacific Squadron. Then two years later in 1901, Pete would become embroiled in another sensational story, standing trial for the murder of James Posey.

 

***

       Since coming to San Diego, Dan Cassidy never had the same visible presence that his brother Pete did. Dan would be mentioned occasionally in the news, generally regarding the saloons he ran and their liquor licenses. By the end of the 1890s Dan owned the Pacific Squadron at Fourth and J Street, and possibly still owned the Chicago Saloon at 433 Fifth Street, right across from his brother’s establishment. Dan never married but he did have a common law wife, Emily Cassidy aka “Little Ruby,” whom he lived with for his final year and a half. Though the particulars will be discussed later, Dan certainly lived up to the moniker given to him and Pete as being the “brothers of ill-repute.”17 The propensity for violence that was so apparent in Pete was apparent in Dan as well, though on a smaller scale, or possibly just less noticed.

        Michael Rose, known around the Stingaree by his nickname “Russian Mike,” was an immigrant sailor originating from his namesake country. He, like the Cassidys, was considered a rough character, prone to drinking and violence. He was well acquainted with both Pete and Dan, having formerly tended bar for Dan at the Chicago Saloon. At 10:45 PM on the night of March 27, 1899, Russian Mike shot Dan Cassidy in the head at point blank range while Dan was behind the counter in the Pacific Squadron. The incident sparked from an accusation made by Mike that Dan had not given him the 70¢ change from his drink order. Spanish Vic, a woman of ill repute who resided upstairs at the Pacific Squadron, was one of the witnesses to the murder. At the inquest she reported Dan’s final words, as he stared into the barrel of the gun: “I am not afraid of that…. Take it and stick it in your ass.”18 According to Pete, they had always been the best of friends, while Little Ruby claimed that there was a “long standing grudge” between them.19 Irrespective of their prior history, Russian Mike was undeniably intoxicated at the time of the shooting. There were multiple witnesses, and unfortunately for Mike, Officer Cota was making his rounds through the Stingaree at that time and was coincidently out front. He immediately approached the saloon after hearing the shot, saying to the exiting Mike as he walked up, “What’s the matter Mike?” To which Mike responded, “Dan has shot himself.”20 After appraising the scene, Officer Cota sent to have Mike placed under arrest.

        The aftermath to the shooting proved to be a hectic time. Russian Mike was tried and convicted, the jury not believing the presented insanity defense. They sent him up to San Quentin with a twenty-one year sentence, of which he served at least six years before possibly being paroled. In a curious turn of events, Pete had Dan interred in Calvary Cemetery (now Pioneer Park in Mission Hills) under his birth name of Cavanaugh. Settling Dan’s estate would become a long, complicated process lasting all the way until late 1901. Dan had died without a will, and since he never legally married, the estate went to his ailing mother. Pete was named executor of the estate, while Little Ruby was cut out completely. The end result, after much strife in the courts and with the local government, was that Pacific Squadron would remain in the family. Compounding Pete’s difficulties, in early summer of 1900, Annie was thrown from a buggy, resulting in head trauma. Her mental condition began to deteriorate, until in summer of the following year, Pete had her committed to a mental institution for treatment. Reporting on the decision, The Evening Tribune stated, “Of late this dementia has changed to a more violent type in which she has been imbued with the idea that she ought to tear her clothing from her person.”21

       Less than six weeks after Pete had Annie committed, James Posey shot and killed Andrew Quinlan during an altercation at Posey’s dive, Favorite Saloon at Fifth and I Street. It was around 11 o’clock at night on October 8, 1901, when the first shots rang out. The impetus of the shooting was, according to Thomas Quinlan, what amounted to a series of crank telephone calls. Thomas, during his testimony at the inquest stated,

 

“The remark he made when he [Andrew] went out was, ‘those fellows have been bothering me over the phone.’ Our telephone rings on Pete Cassidy’s phone and his on ours. If our bell rings Pete can tell it is our bell. Andy says they have been bothering me over this telephone, and he says I am going out to stop them.”22

 

Andrew Quinlan departed the Dewey Saloon and walked two blocks east on I street toward Posey’s saloon, seeking out the culprit, Edward Fulkerson, aka “Kid Hinke.” Pete allegedly came on the scene after right after Andrew was shot, entered into the saloon and shot James Posey, killing him instantly.

        From the get go it was a convoluted crime scene, with many conflicting stories. It originally was assumed that after being shot, Quinlan returned fire. He then exited the saloon and collapsed in the street before being taken to Cassidy’s, where he died on the billiards table. There was never any serious doubt that Posey fired the first shots, but as the investigation progressed, eyewitness accounts began to point to Pete as the second shooter. In the wake of the coroner’s inquest, Pete was arrested and charged with murder in the second degree. After the initial hearing a trial date was set for the following month, with Pete being free on bail in the meantime. After a rehashing of all the conflicting evidence, the case went to the jury on the evening of November 22, 1901. In his closing argument, District Attorney Lewis stated that “there was no reconciliation in the testimony as given for the prosecution and that given by the defense… The jury must believe that either the one side or the other had manufactured a case.”23 Later that night, on the second ballot, the jury voted unanimously to acquit Pete Cassidy of all charges.

       After perpetually escaping serious punishment throughout all his San Diego exploits, Pete Cassidy was now practically untouchable. If the prosecution’s evidence is to be believed, he again got away with murder. The trial also exposed deep divisions within the saloon industry in San Diego. For example, during the trial of Russian Mike, the defense attempted to sway the jury by claiming the defendant was not of sound mind. To back this claim the defense attorney called several witnesses to the stand, who claimed that Russian Mike was not in control of his mental faculty, and therefore should not be imprisoned. Included in this lot were James A. Posey and Edward Fulkerson, men who would both be dead within three years. Much came out during the trial of Pete about his long running dispute with Posey, and about how they were “bitter enemies.”24 After the initial murder, the San Diego Sun reported, “there has been a bitter rivalry between the saloon factions in that part of town, and that Posey led one faction, and Pete Cassidy and Andrew Quinlan the other,”25 with the San Diego Union offering a similar take. Posey tried to get Russian Mike off the hook, and now he was dead. The role that played in the dispute between factions will never be fully known, but it is of interest that just eight years prior Pete Cassidy described Posey as a friend.26 Edward Fulkerson also tried to get Russian Mike off the hook, and then two years later, provided key testimony for the prosecution against Pete. Less than one year later, on August 1, 1902, Edward Fulkerson was found victim of a massive overdose, dying moments later. The responding physician’s first instinct was that Ed had been deliberately poisoned, possibly by opium. During the ensuing investigation the toxicology report seemed to negate this theory. In said report, however, there are logistical discrepancies and errors. This opens the possibility of the Los Angeles company having examined the wrong sample, or sent the wrong report. Irrespective of how he died or of any outside involvement, Pete would not have shed any tears.

       As demonstrated earlier, Pete was not above placing bribes or seeking tacit government sponsorship. The repeated struggles to receive and retain a liquor license provide additional examples of this. During the 1894 license fight, Chief of Police Brenning and City Delegate Dunkin took up Pete’s cause. The San Diego Union, reporting on a meeting of the board of delegates, wrote,

 

“He [Dunkin] said if there was anything to be investigated about Cassidy it should be done now. He himself thought there was nothing to investigate. Chief of Police Brenning had been before the supervisors on oath, and he said he knew nothing detrimental to the character of Pete Cassidy. ‘The fact is,’ said Mr. Dunkin, ‘a good many people get their ideas from the newspapers.’”27

 

This particular reference does raise a valid point which affects this narrative. Dunkin believed that the reporting on Pete Cassidy had been sensationalized, the result of which unduly forms a negative opinion of him amongst the populace. While addressing the possible slant and sensationalistic manner of the three major San Diego newspapers is beyond the scope of this narrative, the papers certainly did not fabricate the multitude of charges against Cassidy throughout his life. For Brenning and Dunkin to ignore Cassidy’s past shows a relationship that is much more complex. Earlier in that same year, Dunkin took up Pete’s cause, attempting to offer an under the table cash settlement in order that W.B. Jones not press for prosecution over a battery and robbery charge. It also was around this time that Pete admitted certain details of his pre San Diego past. It would not be long however, until the relationship between Pete and Dunkin would have a falling out. Two years later Pete would be charged with viciously assaulting Dunkin over a dispute relating to a local political campaign. The jury deadlocked at six to six, and Pete once again walked away a free man.

         Moving the story to the areas centered around Pete’s two locales: Cassidy’s Saloon and Pacific Squadron, this narrative will briefly discuss the services provided. While his mother became the actual owner, Pete gained control of his brother’s saloon and the associated businesses. Both Pete and Dan had been suppliers of intoxicating beverages, whether they possessed the license to do so or not. Both brothers were also enmeshed in prostitution rackets. Shortly after Dan was murdered, the San Diego Sun gave the following description of the Pacific Squadron:

 

“Of all the dive and resorts which go to make up the ‘Stingaree town,’ the Pacific Squadron is the most capacious and imposing… The front end of the lower floor is occupied by the saloon and the first floor rear and all up the stairs by the girls who infest the place. Along the rear of the building and west as far as the rear of Johnson’s saloon is a solid board fence 20 feet high. The south side of this enclosure is made up of a row of two roomed “cribs” the backdoors opening on the court and the front door on J street.  Every ‘crib’ is occupied by some girl, their names being painted on the doors, and electric bells connect every apartment with the saloon. Altogether about twenty of these unfortunate women occupy this resort over which Dan Cassidy and Pete Johnson exercised a domination as tyrannical as that of any czar. Cassidy in common with the other dive keepers collected a percentage of all business from the girls and was supposed in return to give them a percentage from the sale of liquor made through them.”28

 

Pete’s saloon was known for being similar in nature, as evidenced by the recollections of Walter Bellon, whose influence will be addressed later in this narrative.

 

***

       The murders of Dan Cassidy, James Posey, and Andrew Quinlan appear to be watershed events in Pete’s life. He lost a brother, he lost an enemy, and he lost a friend. As everything settled down Pete’s temperament changed, and he seemingly put aside his violent tendencies. There are three theories as to why this happened. First, Pete did murder Posey, and realizing how close he came to prison, began to refrain from spontaneous violence. Second, Pete did not murder Posey, but seeing the tendency of the people to condemn him, began to refrain from spontaneous violence. Third, nothing changed in Pete’s temperament; the newspapers merely stopped reporting the incidents, or they were never reported to the police. Of the three theories, number one and number two seem the most likely. All three would involve Pete becoming more careful no matter what the motivations. Pete had a close call, irrespective of whether he actually committed the murder. Were it not for the testimony of his friends to counter the witnesses for the prosecution, he too may have been sent to San Quentin. There would be only one incident reported after Posey’s murder in which Pete was directly involved in violence. On June 6, 1902, Pete got the worst during a brawl with a group of soldiers from the local coastal artillery unit. From all appearances Pete was not the instigator.

        Once past the murder trial, the first decade of the twentieth century began with good news for Pete. On October 3, 1902, Annie was declared sane again. The treatment she received apparently cured her to the point of being able to return to normal society. Less than a year later, however, Cassidy once again became embroiled with the city over liquor licensing. On July 20, 1903, Pete’s liquor license application for the Pacific Squadron, was denied on a nine to seven vote. Not to be deterred, Pete filed again. As reported in the San Diego Sun, the application states, “It is further set forth that the applicant ‘has no interest in the property except as a guardian,’ and applicant is ‘a sober and suitable person to keep and conduct said business.’”29 The guardian in question was Bridget Cavanaugh, Pete’s mother, and the sole heir after Dan’s death. The same issue of the newspaper also describes Bridget as an incompetent, and postulates that based on the significant profits the saloon is raking in, she would not need the support of the saloon much longer due to her age, and thus the application should be denied. Even though the alderman voted to approve the license, the city delegates overruled the issue, and denied the application for good. The Pacific Squadron became a temperance bar, and while they theoretically no longer sold alcohol, one newspaper reported, “Last night the piano was going full blast, and the women from the cribs connected to the joint held high revelry as has been their custom.” Not much had changed.

       The dawning years of the twentieth century were characterized for Cassidy by two events. One was significantly reported on, while in the other, Pete was just part of the crowd. As mentioned above, the temperance movement was gaining traction in San Diego, spearheaded by the Lincoln-Roosevelt faction of the Republican Party and the various temperance organizations. In 1909 they succeeded in placing on the ballot a measure which if passed, would ban saloons from the city of San Diego, as well as prohibiting sale of alcohol. The measure would exempt restaurants and hotels if they were large enough, as well as allowing medicinal sales. 1909 was also a mayoral election year, which when combined with the anti-saloon ordinance, quickly polarized the city. The proponents of the saloon industry were running large advertisements in the papers, supporting their positions, which were then promptly answered by the opposition. The pro saloon crowd also distributed cards with slogans on one side, and the following verse on the other:   

 

               “They don’t care a fig for the dreary

                        ‘blind pig.’

                   That follows their hue and their

                      cry,

               They think that a man should come

                       with a can

                   And swallow his beer on the sly,

               They’re closing their grip on our

                       goodfellowship.

                   There won’t be much left of it

                       soon

               So boys, take your stand, and we’ll

                       fight hand in hand,

                   For the sake of our good old saloon!”30  

 

       Pete Cassidy publicly entered the fray in March of that year, though there is no doubt that he had always been involved. Both sides of the battle were well organized, and Pete, as a stalwart figure in the Stingaree, would have been at the least a significant financial backer. His name first appeared in the papers when on the afternoon of March 22, Edgar Luce filed a suit against the county clerk, seeking to have 219 names struck from the voter registration list. Peter Cassidy was accused of not residing in the Fifth Ward, as well as having sixteen men claim his saloon as their place of residence. Indignant at the accusation, Pete responded the next day during the primaries as he “swaggered up to the polls,” exclaiming, “I’d like to see anybody challenge me!”31 The lawsuit soon hit troubled waters as District Attorney Utley pointed out its serious flaws, mainly, before any name could be struck, said person had the right to answer the charge, and if they could not be served in person, could then only be served via public notice with a ninety day minimum. On April 3, 1909, the court ruled against Luce, and the anti-saloon forces lost the fight to have the names stricken. Three days later Pete was challenged in person as he tried to cast his vote in the main election, to which he swore under oath that he lived at his saloon. He acknowledged that he did indeed own a house across the bay in Coronado, but legally resided in San Diego. Shortly after casting his ballot, Pete found himself in the company of Edgar Luce, resulting in an awkward introduction.

        The next three years would be relatively uneventful for Pete Cassidy. He would move into a brand new home at 3315 Fourth Street (a structure still standing today), and he would continue to increase his property holdings. In 1911 Pete bought a new Chalmer automobile, which while driving a little more than a year later, ran down Mrs. W.F. Perry while she was crossing the street, seriously injuring her. Being compared to other vilified kingpins, Pete would also continue to be dogged by Edgar Luce. Writing an editorial in 1912, Luce stated, “No, we do not expect the old machine newspapers to be satisfied until Herrin and the Southern Pacific again own the State government and Ruef is in the saddle in San Francisco, Walter Parker in Los Angeles and Hardy and Pete Cassidy in San Diego.”32 1912 would prove to be the true last hurrah for Pete Cassidy and his various enterprises. The cards were dealt out, and the advantage now lay with the reformers. San Diego two years prior had brought on board a new Health and Sanitary Inspector, Walter Bellon. Bellon, along with other leading figures would head the crusade to permanently clean up the Stingaree district. In addition to the moral factor, San Diego was also looking toward hosting the Panama – California Exposition three years later. The culminating event in this drive took place on Sunday morning, November 10, 1912, when the San Diego Police evicted all prostitutes from the Stingaree and greater red-light district. While they theoretically left town, Elizabeth MacPhail points out that many bought round trip tickets, coming back to spread throughout the city, as opposed to being confined in a chosen “district.”33 With one swoop the cribs at the Pacific Squadron and Cassidy’s Saloon were permanently vacated, the income gone. A month after the raid, The Pacific Squadron was demolished, along with the Yankee Doodle, though it appears that Pete may have sold his interests in the saloon at an unknown prior date. The Stingaree district as it had been since the 1880s was now an empty shell.

 

***

       In June of 1966, long after Pete’s death, San Diego historian and journalist Jerry MacMullen wrote an article about Pete for the San Diego Union.34 The article ultimately recounts a particular story from the early temperance movement, but in doing so presents a wistful view of Cassidy, describing him in terms comparable to the attributes of Marlon Brando’s title character in the Godfather. Pete was a man one could go to get things done, a man with connections, and man not to cross. During the first decade of the twentieth century, Pete Cassidy began to be occasionally referred to as the man with the real power in the Fifth Ward, and as one having considerable influence on the city as a whole. The anti-saloon forces were aware of it, evidenced by multiple examples including the previously quoted Edgar Luce. When Pete died, the San Diego Sun called him the former “boss” of the Fifth Ward.35 When looking at the spectrum of reported events during this time, there is scant written evidence to support this claim. The most logical conclusion, however, is not that everyone was being duped by a charlatan, but that the networks Pete moved within were actively shielding him, as well as themselves. If Pete had as strong connections to the police and elected officials as he did in the previous decade, it would be logical to assume that he would continue to build up and foster similar relationships. It has already been stated that the police turned a blind eye to much of went on in the Stingaree. The police were also known to have tipped off denizens of the Stingaree when they were going to hold a raid, so as to minimize the effect while appearing to enforce the law. The clout of Pete Cassidy and the saloon proponents, from all appearances, seems to have peeked around the turn of the decade into the 1910s. The advent of Walter Bellon’s tenure, combined with a larger voice and representation for the temperance and reform movements, began to outweigh the sway the saloon crowd held over the city.

        From the latter part of the 1890s until the moment the city of San Diego closed down the red light district, there was little change in the illicit enterprises Pete was involved in. When Dan Cassidy was murdered, Pete was able to effectively double his prostitution racket. Both Pacific Squadron and Cassidy’s Saloon were adjoined to a series of “cribs,” in which a multitude of prostitutes provided their services. During the lead up to the city wide crack down and clean up, Walter Bellon visited multiple sites throughout the Stingaree. The following is an excerpt from his unpublished memoirs:

 

“I entered the compound in the back of Cassidy’s saloon, where twenty or more cribs were located, one story in height, board and batton structure. When on a busy evening, ladies with tarnished hangovers were their [sic] to greet you. Usually two females to a crib, when one was employed, the other was looking up business… Hosterder and Pigeon were the strong men for these cribs. They collected fees and rentals and percentages every morning from each occupant. These two shoulder holster men blocked my entrance into the stockade the first time I made my appearance… I dropped a hint to a few talkative ladies in waiting, that lived in Cassidy’s stockade, that I was not easily frightened and especially not by hired holster thugs such as now employed to protect their business… I was told these two gun slingers were active agents. They collected two dollars every morning from each women—some were barely old enough to pass as eighteen—then a percentage of the evenings take plus a fee.”36

 

Though not mentioned by Bellon in this particular passage, many of the girls would also theoretically receive a tiny percentage of the beverage sales. It is impossible to know the extent that Pete’s prostitution racket played in his overall finances, as what little data is available is not specific about the breakdown of income. Looking at the guardianship of his mother, we can, however, gauge the success of his enterprises. Bridget Cavanaugh was an invalid and not in control of her finances. When Dan Cassidy’s estate was finally settled in 1901, it was valued at approximately $8,500. When Bridget died four years later, the estate Pete inherited was valued at approximately $18,600. Assuming that Pete sent all proceeds of Dan’s former ventures to his ailing mother, he gained a significant return on his guardianship. Though it is not known if or when Pete sold his interests in the Pacific Squadron, it is not hard to think that one of the main draws to that saloon, as well as his namesake location, was the illicit services of the girls residing on the premises. After 1912 Pete would be left with a single saloon that was an echo of the profitability during its heyday.

       The man born Patrick Cavanaugh, the man who died Peter Cassidy, is an example of what a drive to succeed can accomplish when the means are brutality, vice, violence, and crime. Pete was a thief and cracksman in his wild youth, banding together with others of similar ilk to carry out his endeavors. In the summer of 1884 Pete murdered a Milwaukee police officer, forcing him to flee, to head out to California and assume a new name. In San Diego the entrepreneurial side of Pete Cassidy began to slowly come to life, as he realized where the real money lay. Pete was living out a twisted parody of the American Dream, one where any method was acceptable, where no law was unbreakable. It was the antithesis of Lazarus’ poem. But through all the monetary and relational success that Pete achieved, the means to the end cannot be ignored. In 1915 during the aftermath of a small evangelical revival, the Evening Tribune reported that “Satan was broke and his credit gone. He couldn’t even get a stand off at Pete Cassidy’s for a hot wash of liquid sulphor.”37 In the end, Patrick Cavanaugh, aka Pete Cassidy, was a vicious, brutal person, a murderer and a thief, a man who exploited women in conditions akin to slavery, a man who used his power to perpetuate vice at the expense of countless ruined lives. San Diego may be “America’s Finest City,” but its history is not without its scoundrels.

 

Epilogue

       During the time period following the raid on the Stingaree, Pete Cassidy faded from the public eye. Where he once was a regular subject in the various newspapers, the only future appearances would revolve around misfortune and tragedy. Returning again to Jerry MacMullen, Pete was described thus: “It didn’t require his dropping mustache to cast a look of sadness on the face of Pete Cassidy as he stood behind his bar, staring into space… The life was gone from the place—Pete Cassidy’s, from which it was alleged, the city of San Diego was run.”38 His new house was completed sometime after the 1909 voter fraud incident, and from that point on, Annie and Pete lived there with one domestic servant. On January 17, 1916, Annie Cassidy died at the age of fifty-one, she was interred at Mt. Hope Cemetery. Her cause of death was not reported. That same year, before the publication of the annual city directory, Katherine Marie Higgins, age thirty-one, moved into the Cassidy’s home on Fourth Street. At some point after Annie’s death, Pete and Marie were theoretically married. Early in the morning of February 18, 1917, Pete Cassidy was struck by an errant taxi cab as we walked home. He died the next day and was buried beside Annie at Mt. Hope Cemetery. In a strange and possibly suspicious turn of events, eight days later the San Diego Union reported that Pete Cassidy sold all of his property to Katherine Higgins. That same year the city directory listed Katherine still at their home, but under the name Marie Cassidy. It provokes some interesting questions about Annie’s death, about Pete’s passing, and about whether or not they were actually married. Pete had no known family at the time of his death, and if Katherine was his wife she would have legally inherited everything. Why then transfer the property to her maiden name? For the estate to be theoretically settled so quickly also raises questions. But, as in many events in Pete’s life, the answers will likely go unanswered. Katherine would marry twice more, finally becoming Mrs. Katherine Marie Hampton. On the night of April 6, 1938, Katherine shot herself in the chest with a thirty-eight caliber revolver. She would succumb the following day, the final person to die in the violent saga of Patrick Cavanaugh, aka Pete Cassidy.

 

Notes:

1.) Emma Lazarus, “The New Colossus,” Poetry Foundation, accessed April 5, 2015, http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/175887.

2.) “The Murder of Piszczek,” Milwaukee Daily Journal (Milwaukee, WI), May 12, 1885.

3.) Elizabeth C. MacPhail, The Story of New San Diego and of its Founder: Alonzo E. Horton (San Diego, San Diego Historical Society, 1979), 72.  

4.) MacPhail, The Story of New San Diego, 26.

5.) Elizabeth C. MacPhail, “When the Red Lights Went Out in San Diego: The Little Known Story of San Diego’s Stingaree District” in The San Diego Corral of the Westerners, George Ellis ed. (San Diego, California, The Arts and Crafts Press, 1973), 6-7.  

6.) People v. Peter Cassidy, Chas, Brown, and Robert Condon, Justice Court of San Diego Township, January 11, 1887, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

7.) Ibid.

8.) No Title, San Diego Union (San Diego, CA), March 18, 1887.

9.) “One of Cassiday’s Gang,” San Diego Union, December 8, 1889.

10.) “Cassiday Committed,” San Diego Union, March 27, 1890.

11.) “Who got the Money?,” San Diego Union, January 14, 1890. “Jack Holland’s Hand,” San Diego Sun (San Diego, CA), January 14, 1887, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

12.) “Pete Cassiday Arrested,” San Diego Sun, March 27, 1890, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

13.) “Those Liquor Cases,” San Diego Union, May 24, 1891.

14.) “Closing In,” San Diego Union, July 17, 1891.

15.) “Cassidy Fined,” San Diego Union, September 29, 1893.

16.) “Cassidy in Hiding,” San Diego Union, September 23, 1893.

17.) “Why is Clemency Asked?” San Diego Union, October 13, 1893.

18.) Inquisition upon the Body of Daniel Cavanaugh, H.P. Woodward, Coroner, A. Haines, Asst. District Attorney, Johnson and Company’s Funeral Parlors, San Diego CA, March 28, 1899, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

19.) “Deliberate Murder,” Evening Tribune (San Diego, CA), March 28, 1899.

20.) “Dan Cassidy Shot by Russian Mike,” San Diego Sun, March 28, 1899, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

21.) “About the Courts,” Evening Tribune, July 30, 1901.

22.) Inquisition on the Body of Andrew J. Quinlan, H.P. Woodward, Coroner, Lewis and Daney, District Attorney, Johnson and Company’s Funeral Parlors, San Diego CA, October 12, 1901, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

23.) “Not Guilty,” Evening Tribune, November 23, 1901.

24.) “Inquest Into the Death of James Posey,” San Diego Union, October 11, 1901.

25.) “Two Saloon Keepers Mysteriously Shot,” San Diego Sun, October 9, 1901, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

26.) Peter Cassidy v. C.W. Stevens, Justice Court of San Diego Township, April 14, 1893, Case 7495, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

27.) “City Government,” San Diego Union, October 23, 1894.

28.) “Dan Cassidy Shot By Russian Mike,” San Diego Sun, March 28, 1899, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

29.) “Pete’s Petition,” San Diego Sun, July 25, 1903, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

30.) “Saloon Men Fight in Verse,” San Diego Sun, March 25, 1909, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

31.) “Cassidy Votes; Challenging Any to Challenge Him,” San Diego Sun, March 23, 1909, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

32.) “Luce Defends Reform Methods in Politics,” San Diego Union, January 1, 1912.

33.) MacPhail, “When the Red Lights Went Out in San Diego: The Little Known Story of San Diego’s Stingaree District,” 17.

34.) Jerry MacMullen, “An Early Anti-Saloon Crusade,” San Diego Union, June 12, 1966.

35.) “Ex-Political Boss Robbed After Crash,” San Diego Sun, February 19, 1917, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society.

36.) Walter Bellon, unpublished memoirs, 1972, Courtesy of The San Diego Historical Society

37.) “Satan Routed By Evangelist,” Evening Tribune, November 30, 1915.

38.) Jerry MacMullen, “An Early Anti-Saloon Crusade,” San Diego Union, June 12, 1966.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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