Note: This is the second part of the story about the life of Francis Van Wie. Click here to read and/or listen to Ding Dong Daddy – Part 1.

Between being discharged from the Army in 1917 and 1945, when Frank Van Wie returned to front page headlines, there was little mention of what he was up to. Basically, there would be no more than a sentence here, a sentence there. They were the kind of mentions that few people would ever take notice of.

But there were two notable exceptions that should be discussed, both occurring within five months of one another.

On Monday, August 7, 1922, a reunion took place between 36-year-old Frank and his 17-year-old daughter Mabel, whom he had not seen for fifteen years. Mabel, whose name will come up again later in this story, was his daughter from his first marriage to Lizzie Kexel. It was reported that while Frank was away during World War I, Lizzie had obtained a divorce and moved out of her Chicago home. Upon Frank’s return, he was unable to find his ex-wife and daughter, so he took an ad out in a local newspaper. It was Harry Anderson, a boarder in a Milwaukee rooming house, who saw the ad and triggered their reunion. Soon after, Mabel moved in with Frank.

But finding Mabel would bring unwanted attention to Van Wie. On January 30, 1923, Frank was arrested in Milwaukee for abandoning his third wife, Anna Weinstein Van Wie. While abandonment was the reason for him being taken into custody, Frank had a more serious problem facing him: prior to marrying Anna, he never bothered to divorce his first two wives.

Frank discussed how he ended up in this mess. “First, there was Elizabeth Kexel of Jefferson. She is the mother of Mabel. Then came Clara Heize of 579 Eighteenth avenue in 1912. Last came a widow, Mrs. Anna Weinstein. We were married on October 20, 1920.”

A quick check of Ancestry.com shows that he was off by two days. They were married on October 18, 1920.

He continued, “It was simply a case of separation after each marriage. I never seem to ‘connect’ just right.”

What Frank did throughout the rest of the 1920s, the entirety of the 1930s, and the early 1940s, remains largely a mystery. Occasionally, newspapers offered brief mentions—a sentence here, another there—but nothing significant enough to draw attention. However, some details of his life during those years can be pieced together from reports published after he reemerged in headlines starting in 1945.

He claimed his education ended at the age of twelve. In the years that followed, he worked a variety of jobs—as a Teamster (until he was caught embezzling funds), painter, roofer, 14 years with the Barnum & Bailey Circus (he claimed to be a lion tamer), shoveling coal for the WPA (Works Progress Administration) — constantly bouncing from one job to the next.

But the job that he would forever be associated with was the one that he took in 1941. With the majority of the able men off at war and Van Wie too old to be drafted, he was hired to be a conductor on San Francisco’s streetcars.

Conductors worked the back platform of the cars. (Motormen piloted up front.) It was Frank’s job to collect fares, punch transfers, and ensure passenger safety. His salary was reported to be $43.20 per week (~$900 per week today). What Frank liked most about this job was his ability to socialize with people, the ladies in particular.

And that’s what got him in trouble.

It all came crashing down for Van Wie during the third week of January 1945. That’s when Evelyn, his most recent wife, and another woman named Mary Josephine compared notes and realized they were both married to the same man at the same time. Both hired the same lawyer and filed to have their marriages annulled.

According to their allegations, Van Wie enjoyed a hearty Christmas feast of chicken with Mary Josephine, who he had married on April 8, 1944. After a warm goodbye and an affectionate pat, he left with an armload of gifts. His destination? A second Christmas dinner—this time turkey—with his other wife, Evelyn, whom he had married just days before on December 12, 1944.

The plan might have worked perfectly if Van Wie hadn’t written thank-you notes to both women. Unfortunately for him, the notes got mixed up. Each wife received a card meant for the other, sparking suspicion. The women quickly connected, compared stories, and headed straight to the police to file bigamy complaints.

“I cooked him a chicken dinner,” Mary Josephine later explained. “He ate, kissed me goodbye, and dashed out.”

He dashed straight to Evelyn’s, polished off another meal, and exchanged gifts. In a life so tangled, it was inevitable that something would unravel—this time, in the form of a misplaced card.

This story made the local papers, and, as a result, on Sunday, January 21, 1945, another wife materialized. She was 52-year-old Myrtle Martha Wheeler Van Wie, who had married Frank on September 24, 1943. Not only was he married to all three women simultaneously, but he had wed them all within 15 months.

Myrtle was initially thought to have been Frank’s fifth wife, Mary Josephine number six, and Evelyn number seven. But further investigation would prove that to be incorrect.

Remember earlier when I said that Frank had made the news with a sentence here and a sentence there? They were nearly all marriage listings.

The police soon rounded up additional Mrs. Van Wies, discovering four of them living within a twelve-block area of San Francisco. (Do you want to give a guess as to who was the conductor on the trolley line that serviced that area? Could it be Frank Van Wie???)

And just what did Frank do after all of his marriages had been uncovered? He quit his job as a streetcar conductor and fled to Los Angeles, where he found work at a paint factory. His freedom was short-lived. A security guard recognized him from a photograph and reported him. On Sunday, January 28, 1945, he was seen strolling into a church, smiling, with a woman on his arm.

After his arrest, police found a will dated September 11, 1944, in Van Wie’s pocket. The document disinherited his two sisters and brother, leaving everything to Brutonia Crenshaw (the real name of his most recent wife Evelyn), whom he described as “my dear friend.” Curiously, the will was written three months before he married her.

The investigation took a strange turn when they learned that another wife, Mabel Joyce, whom Frank had married in 1924, was also his legal daughter. She listed her address as “The Clyde Beatty–Russell Brothers Sideshow,” Portland, Oregon. Van Wie had come to California with Mabel in 1932, where he worked shoveling coal. In April 1939, Van Wie was charged with abandoning her and was let off with six months’ probation.

Detectives questioned Frank Van Wie about his motives. “Don’t you remember a Louise Weller as one of your wives?”

“Nope,” Frank replied. “Can’t seem to recall her.”

Oddly enough, he had married Louise just a year earlier in Sacramento.

Van Wie also revealed something new to investigators – they hadn’t known about his marriage to Lizzie, Mabel’s mom.

This brought the known number of his wives to ten. When pressed for details, Frank admitted he couldn’t remember them all.

“I can only recall six of them,” he said. “But there may have been more. I just can’t remember.”

Finally, Frank shrugged and said, “I’m guilty, gentlemen, so what’s the use of talking?”

“Why did you marry so many women?” an investigator asked.

Frank replied, “I just wanted a home — always wanted a home — and contentment.”

“What was the matter with your wives that made you leave them?” they pressed.

“There are ladies here,” Frank said with a polite bow, “and I wouldn’t want to speak my mind on the subject.”

When asked who his favorite wife was, Frank didn’t hesitate. “Without a doubt, it was Evelyn,” he said. “She is the sweetest little woman in the world. I was so ashamed of myself when one of my wives filed suit for divorce and I feared this might come out, that I just ran away from her.” (Of course, Evelyn was his favorite, being his most recent wife.) His blue eyes, watery behind steel-rimmed glasses, betrayed a glimmer of regret.

Frank was also interviewed by Norma Barzman of The San Francisco Examiner. He made the bold claim, “You’re a woman. I could get you to marry me in a month.”

She then wrote the following about the man she called “Wee Frankie Van Wie”: “I was shocked. The man who said this was far on the wrong side of 50, round as a beer barrel, pale and meek looking, with a shiny bald head in eyeglasses.”

Curious as to just how Frank would get her to leave her husband and marry him within a month, she asked, “How?”

“Women want a home and security,” Frank explained. “They want to be told they’re loved more than anything else — and they want their own way.

“When I met a woman I thought was at all possible I courted her.

“I give them all presents — little trinkets to show I thought about them — candy and flowers — you know —.

“I’d take ‘em to nice restaurants and shows and spend all my money on them.

“It’s simple. If I wanted to get you to marry me, I’d help you cook dinner some night and I’d make you feel how cozy and secure home can be.

“Older women are the ones who particularly like to feel secure. They want to feel they’re building a home and just starting out like a 16-year-old bride.”

Norma pushed back. “But, Mr. Van Wie, you’d have to do a lot more than help me cook a dinner to convince me I should marry you —”

“Well,” he replied. “I guess it’s my manner that has helped me.

“Besides, I never criticize a woman. I don’t try to make her over — at least when I’m courting her. I take her at her face value and I do what she wants.

“I do anything they want — except — well,” he paused for a moment. “I won’t dance. I think if I had been willing to dance I could have made friends with more women.”

Frank may have charmed his way into the lives of these women, but generally agreed he was a terrible husband. Most claimed that within weeks of marriage, his sweet demeanor soured. He became abusive, stayed out all night, or disappeared for weeks. One of his wives summed it up this way: “Frank’s a card in the parlor, a gentleman on the street, and a beast in the home.” Another said that two months into their marriage, Frank grew insanely jealous and accused her of seeing other men. When she denied it, he beat her. She left him immediately.

As already mentioned, Frank was not exactly a tall, dark, and handsome man. He was the complete opposite. The San Francisco Examiner published a photo of him on January 31, 1945, being measured next to a younger, taller woman. Arrows pointed to various areas of his body with their corresponding measurements:

• Height: 5 feet, 2 inches (157 cm)
• Shoulders: 18 inches across (46 cm)
• Chest: 41 inches (expanded to 43 inches) (104 to 109 cm)
• Arms (biceps): 16 inches (41 cm)
• Waist: 40 inches (102 cm)
• Hips: 46 inches (117 cm)
• Calves: 25 inches (64 cm)
• Weight: 180 pounds (81.6 kg)

Despite his unimpressive stature, Frank clearly had an undeniable talent for persuasion—that was until his charm ran out.

Frank Van Wie earned a slew of colorful nicknames from the press, including “Casanova of the Carlines,” “Street Car Casanova,” “Pinup Man,” “The Carbarn Casanova,” “Romeo of the Carline,” “Connubial Conductor,” and “The Trolley Romeo.” However, it was Stanton Delaplane, a San Francisco Chronicle columnist, who coined the moniker that stuck: “The Ding Dong Daddy of the D-Car Line.”

The nickname was inspired by the song “I’m a Ding Dong Daddy from Dumas,” written by bandleader and songwriter Phil Baxter. (Sidenote: Following World War II, residents of Dumas, Texas, even named their local radio station KDDD after the song, with the three Ds referencing its title.)

Ironically, Van Wie never actually worked on the D line. Research suggests he was likely assigned to the Turk and Fillmore division of the Market Street Railway, located about 20 blocks away from the D line. Delaplane later explained, “I added the ‘D car’ because it was alliterative.”

On January 29, 1945, Van Wie was arraigned and pleaded not guilty. His bail was initially set at $2,500 but then reduced to $1,000 in cash—equivalent to nearly $17,500 today.

He was defended by Associate Defense Attorney Jake Ehrlich and Defense Attorney James Toner, while San Francisco District Attorney Edmund G. “Pat” Brown (and future governor of California) led the prosecution.

Ehrlich scrambled to secure bail, saying, “Five bail bond brokers have agreed to chip in $200 each. Purely out of sympathy for the little man, y’understand. They have been smitten by his plight.” Just as Ehrlich was pulling the “Ding Dong Daddy Defense Fund” together, Bail Bond Broker Ed Maloney walked in with the full $1,000, and Van Wie was released.

Meanwhile, in one corner of the courtroom, Van Wie’s three most recent wives—Myrtle, Mary Josephine, and Evelyn—chatted quietly. They remarked how Van Wie’s name rhymed with “whee!” Mary Josephine joked that Frank must have been purchasing the wedding rings in wholesale lots. To which Evelyn added, “You girls are lucky—you still have yours. Mine was bought on an installment plan, and a man came and took it when the payments hadn’t been kept up.”

District Attorney Brown turned his attention toward the women: “Mrs. Van Wie—ah, and the other two Mrs. Van Wies—you have my assurance that this case will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. And the penalty for bigamy is one to ten years.”

Once released on bond, Toner and Ehrlich whisked Van Wie off to the Padre Hotel, settling him into a cozy room with twin beds—Room 707 at 241 Jones Street in San Francisco.

While staying at the hotel, a fast-talking visitor came in, offering an unspecified sum of money if Van Wie would endorse a brand of pills, described as being “the kind that collegiates keep awake on when cramming for an exam, and the kind that a man of many wives presumably might take if he had to check in with all of his wives nightly.”

Moments later, another promoter followed, offering $50 (~$870 today) a night, with a four-week guarantee, for a 10-minute nightly appearance on the nightclub circuit.

Van Wie decided to sneak away and ended up in the hotel bar. A beer truck driver, spotting him, casually walked to the jukebox, dropped in a nickel, and cranked the volume to full blast. Out roared Judy Garland’s “The Trolley Song” from the 1944 movie Meet Me in St. Louis—complete with the famous line: “Clang, clang, clang went the trolley. Ding, ding, ding went the bell.”

While awaiting trial, Van Wie’s defense strategy began to take shape. Attorneys Toner and Ehrlich argued that Frank was not a bigamist with intent to defraud, but rather a man suffering from a psychological disorder.

District Attorney Brown, however, dismissed that idea. “Marriage is a mighty serious institution. We feel that this is no different from any other case of bigamy, and we do not intend to treat it differently.”

On February 3, 1945, Municipal Judge Leo Cunningham raised Van Wie’s bail from $1,000 to $3,000, an amount he was unable to pay, landing him back in city prison. The judge justified the increase, remarking that Van Wie, “has been all over San Francisco, everywhere with the possible exception of the psychopathic ward at San Francisco Hospital.

“When a man flouts the marriage contract, and treats it so lightly, he is attacking a very serious institution — the home.

“There has been concern expressed that some of our sounder thinking, more intelligent citizens are resentful of the buffoonery involved in this case.

He then turned his attention toward the three wives: “You ladies were once in love with this man. You now have little of the feeling of friendliness. You have been injured. He has flaunted the specific law which prohibits bigamous marriages.”

The following day, Ehrlich announced he was withdrawing from the case. The influential San Franciscans who had funded Van Wie’s defense—informally known as the Ding Dong Daddy Defense Fund—had disbanded, leaving Van Wie without their support.

By February 5, 1945, Brown announced that he had launched a deeper investigation into Van Wie’s past, focusing on several key allegations:

1. A report that Van Wie abandoned one of his wives, leaving her with a child she was forced to put up for adoption.
2. Allegations that, as a union secretary, he misappropriated funds while moving between cities. Van Wie claimed he had repaid the money. (Whether he paid the money back was never confirmed, but he was still on probation when he joined the Army during World War I.)
3. His admission that, at age 14, he served a year in reform school for stealing a horse.
4. A disturbing claim that Mabel Joyce, Van Wie’s fifth wife, was actually his daughter from his first marriage. (Many believed that Mabel was his stepdaughter, not his biological daughter, although no one has been able to prove that either way.)

Brown stated, “He admitted serving a year in a reform school, back in Wisconsin, on the horse theft charge.

“And he said that when he was picked up for the alleged embezzlement of the union funds that he was also held in connection with the marriage to his daughter. Apparently, he was released on both counts.”

That same day, U.S. Attorney Frank Hennessey addressed another potential charge against Van Wie: impersonation of a federal official. “Whether or not we will prosecute him for impersonation is still a matter that is in abeyance, pending the outcome of his bigamy charges.” The FBI had begun investigating after several of Van Wie’s wives revealed that he had posed as an undercover agent to justify his prolonged absences from home. Toner, however, dismissed the accusation, insisting there was no criminal intent. “It was only an alibi, just as some men might say they had to stay out at night because of a lodge meeting.”

On February 13, 1945, Frank Van Wie entered dual pleas of not guilty and not guilty by reason of insanity to each of the three bigamy charges against him. The case was overseen by Superior Judge Herbert C. Kaufman, who ordered an evaluation of Van Wie’s mental state prior to trial, which was tentatively set for March 5. His sanity was assessed by three psychiatrists at the psychopathic ward of San Francisco Hospital.

Meanwhile, the list of his known marriages continued to grow. Investigators had now uncovered a total of fourteen possible marriages, twelve of them confirmed. Among his known wives were, in order, Lizzie, Clara, Adeline, Martha, Mabel, Sadie, Ruth, Giuliana, Myrtle, Louise, Mary Josephine, and Evelyn.

Van Wie’s trial began on March 20, 1945, with a jury composed of three women and nine men. Four of his wives appeared in court – all of whom he was still legally wed to – each taking the stand to testify about how they met and married him. The fourth wife, who was really his seventh wife, Sadie Levin, was the final witness of the day. She recounted meeting Van Wie while they were both working for the WPA. The couple married in 1941 but separated a year later when he claimed he had been assigned to an Army camp for “investigation” work.

Sadie testified that when she informed Frank of her pregnancy, Van Wie accused her of infidelity, claiming, “You must have had an affair with somebody — I’m sterile.” He then abandoned her. He ignored her telegrams and pleas for financial support.

Then, months later, shortly before the baby’s birth, he unexpectedly showed up at her Page Street boarding house, dressed in a U.S. Army uniform. Sadie couldn’t tell whether it was the uniform of an officer or an enlisted man. He explained his long absence by saying he had just returned from a secret mission investigating the Pearl Harbor attack. He forced her to give birth in a charity ward and place the baby up for adoption when it was just ten days old.

The next morning, he left again, claiming he was needed at Camp Roberts. Letters she sent to him there were returned marked “Party Unknown.”

On Thursday, March 22, 1945, the jury found Van Wie guilty on three counts of bigamy. The jury needed only ten minutes of deliberation to reach their verdict. He faced a sentence of up to 30 years in prison and $15,000 in fines—10 years and a maximum of $5,000 (over $87,000 today) for each count. Since Van Wie had entered a dual plea of “not guilty” and “not guilty by reason of insanity,” a second trial was required to assess his sanity.

The sanity trial began on March 27, 1945. Attorney Toner questioned Van Wie about his criminal history, and Van Wie admitted to the crimes that District Attorney Brown had previously launched an investigation into.

Van Wie then offered up a detailed account of his twelve known marriages, struggling to recall the names of many of his wives and the dates of their unions. When asked if he had ever been divorced, he believed he had been divorced once, “but I don’t know when or where.”

Judge Kaufman interjected, “Didn’t you realize you are committing a crime, marrying without being divorced?”

Van Wie answered, “No, sir. I don’t think I hurt any one. I don’t see where I committed a crime.”

On April 3, 1945, after 55 minutes of deliberation, a jury of nine men and three women—the same jury from his previous trial—determined that Van Wie was sane. They had rejected his plea of not guilty by reason of insanity.

Two days later, Superior Judge Herbert C. Kaufman sentenced Van Wie to one to ten years for each of the three bigamy counts, with the terms to run consecutively rather than concurrently. This meant Van Wie would have to serve at least three years before becoming eligible for parole.

In delivering the sentence, Judge Kaufman declared, “Our civilization, our government and our homes are founded upon the sanctity of marriage and the preservation of the institution of marriage. Plural, bigamist marriages are condemned by all modern societies and by our law, and are destructive of the home and good morals. Bigamy, such as involved in this case, is a most serious crime and does not warrant probation.”

Since the State Penal Code required both imprisonment and a fine for bigamy, the judge imposed a symbolic fine of $1 for each count “to keep the record straight.” But since Van Wie was flat broke, Judge Kaufman reached into his pocket and paid the $3. (Approximately $52 today.)

Frank Van Wie, prisoner number 1427, entered San Quentin prison on April 12, 1945—the same day President Franklin D. Roosevelt died.

On March 18, 1946, one year after the trial, Judge Kaufman recommended to the State Adult Probation Authority that Van Wie be given the minimum sentence for his numerous marital offenses. “Van Wie is an elderly man, and his case has served to teach a great moral lesson to our youth,” Kaufman stated. “Added imprisonment would accomplish no further public good and the minimum term, in my opinion, would be sufficient to accomplish reformation of the defendant.”

On April 11, 1947, after serving two years in prison, Van Wie was released. During his time at San Quentin, he worked as a trustee in the prison library. His attorney, James Toner, noted that he believed all of Van Wie’s former wives had either annulled their marriages or obtained divorces.

As a condition of his parole, Van Wie was forbidden from marrying for five years without his parole officer’s approval. Having lost his job as a trolley conductor, Van Wie initially gained employment as a peach picker before finding a more stable job as a janitor in Oakland for $68/week. (~$950/week today.)

Van Wie remained out of the news for more than two years before reappearing in late 1949. He wished to marry one more time but needed Judge Kaufman’s permission to do so.

Stunned, Judge Kaufman’s first step was to confirm that Van Wie had cleared all his previous marriages through annulments or divorces. He then insisted Van Wie bring his fiancée to court for a serious conversation.

On September 16, 1949, 49-year-old Mary Aba (reported as Abba), an Oakland chambermaid, met privately with the judge. She assured him she was fully aware of 63-year-old Van Wie’s notorious past and confident that things would be different this time. “I know all about his history, and I’m satisfied,” Mary said calmly. “He’s explained everything very carefully.”

That was to be her second marriage. Despite Judge Kaufman’s warnings, Mary insisted on going through with it. “One thing about him—he works hard to provide,” she added. Reluctantly, the judge lifted the court’s ban on Van Wie’s future marriages.

The couple exchanged vows right there in Judge Kaufman’s chambers as news photographers snapped pictures. The ceremony nearly stalled when Van Wie couldn’t produce a ring, but a helpful photographer loaned him his gold band, and the ceremony proceeded.

“How many weddings does this make?” a reporter asked.

“To be honest, I don’t rightly know,” Van Wie admitted with a sheepish grin. “I think this is the 14th—or maybe the 20th.”

At the end of the ceremony, Judge Kaufman declined Van Wie’s offer to reimburse the $3 in fines that the judge had paid for him back in 1945. “Consider that a wedding present,” Kaufman said with a smile.

“This is the real thing, and it’s going to be my last one,” Van Wie declared confidently.

“This is the happy ending,” the judge beamed.

An advertisement in the October 1, 1949, edition of the Oakland Post Enquirer on page 2 read: “Grand Wedding Party! For Francis Van Wie ‘The Ding Dong Daddy of the Cable Cars, and his bride!’ Tomorrow night, Sunday, 7 to 9 PM, Gigantic wedding cake! A piece of wedding cake for everybody! All his friends and the public are invited! *Newsreel cameras *Television – Machek’s Waffle Shop, 22nd and Telegraph, TW3-9775.”

Machek’s Waffle Shop just happened to be Frank’s place of employment.

I’d like to say that they lived happily ever after, but after just three weeks of marriage, Mary returned to Judge Kaufman’s courtroom with her tale of woe.

It was a situation she couldn’t quite sink her teeth into, literally. That’s because she no longer had them. At Van Wie’s urging, she had six teeth pulled after their marriage, leaving her in considerable pain and not quite her usual self. Her discomfort led to tension, with Van Wie calling her “cold and unloving” and swearing at her.

Mary told the judge that her husband, now proudly known as “The Beaming Pop of the Waffle Shop,” had let his newfound fame go to his head. She felt that having his name in the papers made him a big shot. To make matters worse, visitors to the waffle shop had started offering him drinks—too many of them, in her opinion.

Money became another point of contention. She complained that Van Wie gave her only $2 a day (~$26/day today) to manage household expenses and that he frequently criticized the meals that she prepared.

Judge Kaufman reminded her that he couldn’t take legal action, as he had lifted Van Wie’s probation restrictions as a wedding gift. Concerned, the judge called Van Wie to get his side of the story, but he wasn’t home.

For now, the judge advised Mary to take a week off, stay with a friend, and then return to see if they could work things out.

The judge did eventually talk to Van Wie, warning him that his marriage was on the verge of collapse. Frank said that the trouble started with that wedding party thrown for him at the shop the previous Sunday. He admitted to having had a few drinks, and then added, “But I really love that girl. Maybe her gums are just hurting.”

Judge Kaufman said, “I talked to him last night. He has promised to let her be the boss of the household.” Van Wie also agreed to give his wife more money for household expenses and check in with the judge weekly by phone.

Employees at the shop said Van Wie had opted to take a few days off in an effort to reconcile with his wife.

Bliss was briefly restored but the truce didn’t last. On February 21, 1950, after about five months of marriage, Mary tearfully told Judge Kaufman she was planning to file for divorce. “Our love nest is over, and I’m moving out,” she sobbed.

She explained that their troubles had worsened after both lost their jobs. “Two months ago, he lost his job. Recently I lost my job, and he started scolding me because I was unemployed.

“He’s too set in his ways to stop. For about a month now, each of us buys his own food and we take turns at the stove.

“I can’t go on.”

As you can probably guess, Francie Van Wie was not done with marriage.

Two years later, on August 14, 1952, newspapers revealed that bride number 15 had already kicked Van Wie out—just nine days after their wedding. He had married 73-year-old Los Angeles widow Amelia Prichard in a whirlwind ceremony in Las Vegas.

Amelia recounted how they met: “You know, I met him only several weeks before we were married. We met through some friends.

“He was a painter. Painting houses, that is.

“He lavished his attentions on me. He took me out. I have money of my own. But he spent his own money on me.”

Then came the proposal and she accepted.

“We went by bus to Las Vegas, to be married,” she continued. “He paid the fare.”

“He told me he had been married only once before and was divorced.

“After our honeymoon, we moved into this Los Angeles apartment. He had picked it out for me. He was wonderful around the house. He even did the dishes.

“I was happy. I thought I had a wonderful man.

“Then, today, the reporters swarmed into our apartment. I couldn’t understand their interest in us. Gradually, from the questions they put to Francis, I learned of his past.

“I was stunned.”

“I asked the reporters to leave. I locked the door after them. Then I had it out with Francis. I asked him why he had deceived me…

“I ordered him out.

“He pleaded. He actually wept, and begged me to give him a chance. He fell to his knees.

“Why, he even threatened to commit suicide, if I made him go.

“But I was firm. I thought of those other women in his life.

“So he went.”

Despite her firm stance, she admitted, “You know, I sort of hated to throw him out, the way I did. He really was such a nice man. But after all…

“Well, I guess I’ll get myself an annulment.”

Complicating matters, Van Wie wasn’t sure if he had divorced wife number 14, Mary Aba, before marrying Amelia. A search of Bay Area county clerk records revealed no record of a divorce.

The next night, Van Wie’s stepdaughter, Dorothy Aba, told the police “My mother has never been divorced from this man.

“He left her to live with another woman.

“She talked to him by telephone several times about her divorce but nothing happened.

“She finally went to the Alameda County Legal Aid Society in Oakland to find out how she could get a divorce, but she never got one.”

Three days later, on Saturday, August 16, 1952, Van Wie stepped from a plane at the Oakland Municipal Airport. A crowd applauded as he was greeted by half a dozen chorus girls. He had been signed, at $500 per week (nearly $6,000/week today), to star in a show titled “My True Love Story” at Oakland’s Rey Burlesque Theater. Throughout the scripted act, Frank wore a conductor’s uniform. On stage with him were fifteen “cute, coy and captivating pinup cuties” playing the part of his many wives. And just what did they wear? Their outfits were described as “conductors caps — and not much more.”

Frank’s burlesque career would prove to be a short one. Very, very short. That Wednesday, during another act at the theater, the show was stopped. Frank, his manager, and his lawyer walked onstage and announced that he wouldn’t be performing that evening.

Why? He was about to be arrested for bigamy. Not only had Frank never divorced Mary Abba to marry Amelia Pritchard, but it turns out that he had married another woman in between. He had wed 67-year-old Martha Moyle in Yuma, Arizona the previous year, and then deserted her after six months of marriage. In other words, Amelia wasn’t wife #15. She was really wife #16.

Frank was escorted to the Oakland city jail and bail was set at $10,000. He was then transported to Los Angeles, where a judge cut his bond to $3,000. (~$35,500 adjusted for inflation.)

The following month, Frank was arraigned in Superior Court and pleaded innocent and innocent by reason of insanity to the two counts of bigamy. He changed his plea to guilty on October 29 of that year.

The 66-year-old Van Wie was sentenced to seven years of probation, including six months in the County Jail. Upon his release, the court ordered that Van Wie must obtain approval from the Probation Department before marrying. To further prevent potential misconduct, Judge Frampton also prohibited him from cohabitating with any member of the opposite sex outside of marriage.

While still in prison, one of the wives divorced Frank, while the other two received annulments.

When he was released on May 4, 1953, Frank declared, “I’ve had enough of women. I’m settling down and I am determined to stay out of trouble.” He took up residence in a Los Angeles hotel apartment and supported himself on his $174 (~$2,000 today) World War I pension.

Van Wie was back in court on August 5, 1955. This time it was not because he was in any real trouble. Instead, he wished to make sure that his marriage to his sixth wife, Mabel, whether she was his daughter or stepdaughter, was legally dissolved. He thought that had been done back in 1924, but he wasn’t certain. Judge Samuel R. Blake granted the divorce and told Frank that he could not marry for at least one year. He replied, “I don’t want to get married again. I just want to die in peace.”

Fast forward to June 15, 1957. That’s when Mrs. June Puckett, a widow, married Van Wie in Lodi, California. The two then lived together on and off for thirteen months before Frank left, claiming he needed to get treatment for his asthma. After not hearing from him for six months, she decided to file for divorce. On page 5 of the March 11, 1959 edition of The Sacramento Union, there is a small announcement of this in the Vital Statistics section. In its entirety, it reads, “June Van Wie vs. Francis Van Wie, cruelty.”

An observant reporter noticed that listing and asked June about it. She was shocked to learn about Frank’s past marital history. “I had no idea. He led me to believe he had only been married once before.”

Keep in mind that Frank had violated the terms of his seven-year probation. Not only was he prohibited from remarrying without the Probation Department’s approval, but it was also learned that he had failed to check in with them the previous month, as he was required to do.

Francis Van Wie was once again on the front page of the California newspapers. Yet, even with all that publicity, it took probation officers more than three weeks to track him down.

Do you want to guess who he was with at the time?

If you guessed with another wife, you are correct!

Wife number 18 was twice-widowed 81-year-old Minnie Riordan.

She first met Van Wie in July 1958 at a downtown bus station. He was strolling through when he spotted Minnie struggling to lift her luggage onto a bus. Ever the gentleman, Van Wie rushed over to help. They chatted for a few minutes, and his easy charm lit up the conversation.

Frank told Minnie he was a widower and had been divorced once. Minnie later remarked, “He never said anything about the others.”  The two married on August 31, 1958, but there was just one problem: Frank had never officially divorced wife number 17.

When authorities asked Minnie if she would file a complaint against him, she shook her head. “Why, of course not. I don’t have any complaints against Frank. I don’t want a divorce. I don’t need a divorce.”

She went on, “Frank was the best man I ever had around the house. He had a nice disposition and no bad habits. He never drank or cursed or anything like that. He went to church every Sunday and lived a good Christian life. Why, he was baptized in the Baptist Church here not long ago.”

Meanwhile, back in jail, Van Wie commented that Minnie was “the best wife a man ever had.”

On April 8, 1959, the San Francisco Examiner ran an article titled, “Ding Dong Daddy Tells Why Wedding Bells Rang 18 Times.” Supposedly penned by Frank himself, here is an abbreviated version of what he said:

“They say I’ve had 18 wives in my lifetime, in my 72 years. Maybe, I don’t know how many, I don’t remember them all. I’m sorry.”

“They call me the ‘Ding Dong Daddy,’ I guess because I had four wives when I worked on the D-line trolley in San Francisco, and they lived within 12 blocks of each other. I don’t like that name, and I wish people wouldn’t call me that. It’s up to them.

“Most of my marriages were impulse. I was driven by impulse, and I wanted to marry them.”

“And I always insisted on marrying them. I don’t believe in living with a woman unless you’re married.”

“My troubles began when Mabel left me, in 1934. We’d been married about 17 years. And I think we were happy together.

“She was a mind reader in a carnival and I did jobs such as painting — I’m a good painter, as good as anyone, I think. But then she started getting active in club activities and things like that, meeting a lot of people.

“One day she left me for some other man. I don’t know who.”

He concluded, “I believe in divorce — if you’re not happy you get divorce — but it costs sometimes $100 or $200, and so I’d just leave. And then, later, I’d hear that my wife divorced me and so I married again.

“I always supported my wives, always paid everything. And they never went hungry. I just shouldn’t have married so many of them, I guess.”

On May 1, 1959, Van Wie was sentenced to four months in the Los Angeles County Jail. On May 20^th, June Puckett, his 17^th wife, was granted an annulment.

After this, Frank dropped from sight. He would never remarry or be arrested again.

Which leaves us with one major question: Did Minnie wait for Frank to get out of jail?

She did, and the couple moved to Lake Elsinore in California’s Riverside County. They stayed together until August 7, 1963, when 77-year-old Francis Van Wie died of a heart attack, complicated by hardening of the arteries. Minnie, his 18th wife, was by his side when he passed. A World War I veteran, he was laid to rest at Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery in San Diego.

Amazingly, for a man who made headlines for so many years, no one noticed his passing. That was until Lynn Ludlow, in an article she wrote for the January 5, 1981, San Francisco Examiner, announced it to the world for the first time.

But Frank did finally get one thing right in his personal life when he said that Minnie was “the best wife a man ever had.” At least she was the best wife Francis Van Wie ever had.

Useless? Useful? I’ll leave that for you to decide.