The Robert E. Lee Military Academy Scandal – Part Two

Last week we heard the story of a small legal problem experienced by a just-opened military academy in La Crescenta. In late 1929, the Robert E. Lee Military Academy had just opened on the corner of Foothill and Rosemont, where Foster’s Donuts is today. The academy rented the old La Crescenta Hotel, a declining 36-room grand hotel from the late 1800s. Small troubles came up when the headmaster of the school, Major Robert Cannon, bounced a couple of checks and rang up some minor health code violations. But the big troubles came when the major’s infamous father, Bishop James Cannon, showed up to support his son. Bishop Cannon was the divisive national leader of the increasingly unpopular Prohibition movement, and the bishop’s illicit past was just then catching up with him.

Major Cannon was set to appear before Judge Dyer in the tiny Montrose courtroom on the charges of the bad checks and the health violations. The court was tucked into the Montrose sheriff station on Ocean View Boulevard just above Honolulu Avenue. That site today is a boba place and a pet grooming salon (the jail cells are still in the back of the pet grooming place).

Major Cannon’s dad, the Bishop Cannon, accompanied his son to the proceedings. The national news agencies were just then starting to pick up a scent of scandal coming from the bishop. His illegal stock trading had just been revealed, along with rumors of larger indiscretions, so Bishop Cannon was tailed to Montrose by a phalanx of news reporters. Major Cannon, his wife, one of the school’s teachers, a defense lawyer and the good bishop all lined up side-by-side in Judge Dyer’s tiny Montrose courtroom.

At a break in the proceedings, Bishop Cannon stepped out onto Ocean View to catch some air. The waiting news photographers pounced on him, while reporters shouted questions at him. The bishop flew into a rage, shouting, “What right have you got to take my photo!?” Garbed in his old-fashioned frock coat and starched collar, the bishop began chasing the cameramen on Ocean View, grabbing at their cameras. The newsmen dodged and ducked, cameras snapping away at the enraged clergyman. Bishop Cannon grappled with one photographer, while others recorded the spectacle.

Bishop Cannon regained his composure and answered some questions about his stance on Prohibition. But when questions about his newly revealed stock trades were shouted out, he ended the interview.

“That’s my own personal business,” he grumbled and stalked back in to courtroom.

Judge Dyer dismissed the bad check charges when Major Cannon showed that he had already made good on the checks. On the health code violations – unwashed dishes and pans – the judge again dismissed the charges, instead counseling Major Cannon on a new sanitary program with the health department that would hopefully solve the issue. Major Cannon was penitent on all charges, and the proceedings adjourned amicably.

It’s thought that the military academy had trouble paying rent for a year later it had moved to another location, its fourth move in six years. And Bishop Cannon? The scuffle on Ocean View was a prelude to larger scuffles in the public arena. The shady stock dealings immediately brought him before a church court where he was deemed “not guilty” by a vote of 54 to 11. As that verdict was being pronounced, the newspapers published personal letters between Cannon and his secretary, revealing a sexual affair while Cannon’s invalid wife lay dying. Next up it was revealed that during WWI, Cannon had made a fortune hoarding and selling wartime stocks of flour. Finally, he was indicted on election finance charges that he had pocketed nearly $50,000 in campaign funds from the Presidential election. Although he was never convicted his reputation was destroyed, and many pointed to him as proof that the Prohibition cause was hypocritical.

A national event had played out on the quiet streets of the Crescenta Valley. But the enduring mystery is that our local newspaper, The Ledger, whose offices were a few doors down from the scuffle on Ocean View, printed not one word about this story.

  mike lawler