Worked as a lawyer in Santa Barbara and San Francisco. 1880 census shows him living in Santa Barbara with his wife Margaret. Both of his parents were born in Ireland. The 1900 census shows him living in San Francisco with his wife Margaret. They were married in 1875.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from Santa Barbara Independent, “Three Murders that Made Santa Barbara Shiver” by Nick Welsh, published 31 Oct 2019
Clarence Gray ranks as one of the great villains in Santa Barbara history, yet few people know his name. In 1880, Gray — a charismatic, if frightening, force within Santa Barbara’s Republican Party — actually shot and killed the editor of the Santa Barbara Press in broad daylight on State Street. And he got away with it.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
In hindsight, it seems inevitable that Glancey and Gray would come to blows. On September 25, 1880, Gray confronted Glancey on State Street, demanding to know if he had written the article condemning his nomination. When Glancey said he had, Gray pulled out a pistol and tried to shoot him. Glancey grabbed his wrists, shouted he was unarmed, and walked away. Gray chased after him and shot him. The bullet struck one of Glancey’s wrists, broke both bones, entered his stomach, and blew a hole through him. Glancey stumbled into the Morris Hotel at State and Haley and collapsed in the reading room. He died the next day, lamenting: “I am dying without seeing my dear little wife-girl.”
Gray was tried three times on murder charges — but each time, he got off. The first trial ended with a hung jury. Despite many eyewitnesses, Gray claimed self-defense. The second trial ended in a conviction and a 20-year sentence, but the verdict was overturned when it came out that the jurors had sequestered themselves with 20 gallons of beer, three bottles of wine, and an indeterminate quantity of whiskey. The third trial proved the charm; Gray was flat-out acquitted.
Gray moved to San Francisco, but the cataclysmic fire of 1906 destroyed his health, and he died in Sacramento one year later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from Santa Barbara Independent, “Three Murders that Made Santa Barbara Shiver” by Nick Welsh, published 31 Oct 2019
Clarence Gray ranks as one of the great villains in Santa Barbara history, yet few people know his name. In 1880, Gray — a charismatic, if frightening, force within Santa Barbara’s Republican Party — actually shot and killed the editor of the Santa Barbara Press in broad daylight on State Street. And he got away with it.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
In hindsight, it seems inevitable that Glancey and Gray would come to blows. On September 25, 1880, Gray confronted Glancey on State Street, demanding to know if he had written the article condemning his nomination. When Glancey said he had, Gray pulled out a pistol and tried to shoot him. Glancey grabbed his wrists, shouted he was unarmed, and walked away. Gray chased after him and shot him. The bullet struck one of Glancey’s wrists, broke both bones, entered his stomach, and blew a hole through him. Glancey stumbled into the Morris Hotel at State and Haley and collapsed in the reading room. He died the next day, lamenting: “I am dying without seeing my dear little wife-girl.”
Gray was tried three times on murder charges — but each time, he got off. The first trial ended with a hung jury. Despite many eyewitnesses, Gray claimed self-defense. The second trial ended in a conviction and a 20-year sentence, but the verdict was overturned when it came out that the jurors had sequestered themselves with 20 gallons of beer, three bottles of wine, and an indeterminate quantity of whiskey. The third trial proved the charm; Gray was flat-out acquitted.
Gray moved to San Francisco, but the cataclysmic fire of 1906 destroyed his health, and he died in Sacramento one year later.
Worked as a lawyer in Santa Barbara and San Francisco. 1880 census shows him living in Santa Barbara with his wife Margaret. Both of his parents were born in Ireland. The 1900 census shows him living in San Francisco with his wife Margaret. They were married in 1875.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from Santa Barbara Independent, “Three Murders that Made Santa Barbara Shiver” by Nick Welsh, published 31 Oct 2019
Clarence Gray ranks as one of the great villains in Santa Barbara history, yet few people know his name. In 1880, Gray — a charismatic, if frightening, force within Santa Barbara’s Republican Party — actually shot and killed the editor of the Santa Barbara Press in broad daylight on State Street. And he got away with it.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
In hindsight, it seems inevitable that Glancey and Gray would come to blows. On September 25, 1880, Gray confronted Glancey on State Street, demanding to know if he had written the article condemning his nomination. When Glancey said he had, Gray pulled out a pistol and tried to shoot him. Glancey grabbed his wrists, shouted he was unarmed, and walked away. Gray chased after him and shot him. The bullet struck one of Glancey’s wrists, broke both bones, entered his stomach, and blew a hole through him. Glancey stumbled into the Morris Hotel at State and Haley and collapsed in the reading room. He died the next day, lamenting: “I am dying without seeing my dear little wife-girl.”
Gray was tried three times on murder charges — but each time, he got off. The first trial ended with a hung jury. Despite many eyewitnesses, Gray claimed self-defense. The second trial ended in a conviction and a 20-year sentence, but the verdict was overturned when it came out that the jurors had sequestered themselves with 20 gallons of beer, three bottles of wine, and an indeterminate quantity of whiskey. The third trial proved the charm; Gray was flat-out acquitted.
Gray moved to San Francisco, but the cataclysmic fire of 1906 destroyed his health, and he died in Sacramento one year later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt from Santa Barbara Independent, “Three Murders that Made Santa Barbara Shiver” by Nick Welsh, published 31 Oct 2019
Clarence Gray ranks as one of the great villains in Santa Barbara history, yet few people know his name. In 1880, Gray — a charismatic, if frightening, force within Santa Barbara’s Republican Party — actually shot and killed the editor of the Santa Barbara Press in broad daylight on State Street. And he got away with it.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
When Gray moved to Santa Barbara in 1870, he was described as “reckless, unscrupulous, audacious, brilliant, enterprising, and witty.” An attorney by profession, Gray represented clients who were described as “gamblers, members of the sporting set, and habitués of saloons.” In less than 10 years, Gray himself was arrested more than 20 times, mostly for fighting. Once, he beat a priest senseless. When the Press newspaper offices were destroyed in an arson fire, Gray was the chief suspect, though no charges were ever filed. The paper — under a previous editor — had described Gray as “a blatherskite and brazen-faced demagogue and hoodlum.” In 1876, Gray beat up William Russell, editor of The Index, another publication, leaving his head a bloody mess. It was the fourth time Gray had assaulted Russell. He was fined $20.
Gray’s role in community life, however, was more complicated than his rap sheet might suggest. In 1873, Gray sought the Republican Party nomination for District Attorney and came within seven votes of winning. He was always an elected delegate at Republican Party conventions. In 1874, when Judge Pablo de la Guerra died, Gray was one of 12 pallbearers who carried the coffin through a crowd of 2,000 mourners.
In 1880, Gray again sought his party’s nomination for District Attorney. Again, there were horrified objections from the Press. When State Supreme Court stopped the election, Theodore Glancey, the new Press editor, celebrated: “The nomination was disgraceful in every respect,” he wrote, relieved that the “good people of Santa Barbara” would not endure the administration of justice by “hoodlums and law-breakers.”
Journalism at that time was not for the faint of heart, but there was nothing fainthearted about Glancey. He had just moved to Santa Barbara only a few years after the previous Press editor had been horsewhipped down State Street by the District Attorney, W.T. Wilson, and left in a state of “insensibility.”
Originally from Illinois, Glancey had the personality and physique of an ax handle. Described as “argumentatively gifted,” Glancey was a radical Republican, a strict abolitionist, and an even stricter teetotaler. His political reporting was said to be “terse, pointed, and fearless.
In hindsight, it seems inevitable that Glancey and Gray would come to blows. On September 25, 1880, Gray confronted Glancey on State Street, demanding to know if he had written the article condemning his nomination. When Glancey said he had, Gray pulled out a pistol and tried to shoot him. Glancey grabbed his wrists, shouted he was unarmed, and walked away. Gray chased after him and shot him. The bullet struck one of Glancey’s wrists, broke both bones, entered his stomach, and blew a hole through him. Glancey stumbled into the Morris Hotel at State and Haley and collapsed in the reading room. He died the next day, lamenting: “I am dying without seeing my dear little wife-girl.”
Gray was tried three times on murder charges — but each time, he got off. The first trial ended with a hung jury. Despite many eyewitnesses, Gray claimed self-defense. The second trial ended in a conviction and a 20-year sentence, but the verdict was overturned when it came out that the jurors had sequestered themselves with 20 gallons of beer, three bottles of wine, and an indeterminate quantity of whiskey. The third trial proved the charm; Gray was flat-out acquitted.
Gray moved to San Francisco, but the cataclysmic fire of 1906 destroyed his health, and he died in Sacramento one year later.
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