Los Angeles Times 
  March 20, 1995, Monday, Home Edition
  SECTION: Metro; Part B; Page 3; Metro Desk
  LENGTH: 899 words
  By Cecilia Rasmussen
     Even by the standards of the day, this
  was one of the most outrageous slayings of
  the age. And it fed the front pages for
  eight years. Walburga (Dolly) Oesterreich
  was at the center of one of the city's most
  sensational love affairs, a tale feasted on
  by the city's newspapers in the 1920s and
  '30s, when brassy headlines reflected the
  cutthroat competition.
     Newspapers described her as a "naughty
  vamp" and "comely." Her eyes and her
  appetites would bring a long line of men
  into her life -- and send one to his death.
     She had been a Milwaukee housewife,
  married to a dour, hard-drinking apron
  manufacturer named Fred Oesterreich. But
  housewife, and the house, had a secret: Her
  lover, Otto Sanhuber, a small, quiet sewing
  machine repairman who had worked for
  Oesterreich, lived for 10 years in the
  over the apron manufacturer's bed, hidden
  there by Dolly.
     When the Oesterreiches moved to Los
  Angeles, Sanhuber came along and took up
  residence in the attic of a house above
  Sunset Boulevard.
     One summer night, when he heard the
  Oesterreiches quarreling, Sanhuber came out
  of his hideaway and shot Fred Oesterreich
     The investigations and trial were to
  last eight years and end in a mistrial.
  Dolly Oesterreich was never retried on
  charges of conspiracy to commit murder.
  However her "sex slave," Sanhuber, was
     Their bizarre arrangement began in 1913,
  when Dolly Oesterreich, 26, called her
  husband at the apron factory, complaining
  that her sewing machine did not work. Her
  husband sent Sanhuber, 17, to fix it. Dolly
  Oesterreich, who had noticed Sanhuber at
  factory, greeted him in a silk robe,
  stockings, heavy perfume and nothing else.
  It was the beginning of a decade-long
     In 1918, when the Oesterreiches moved to
  Lafayette Park Place in Los Angeles,
  Sanhuber quietly moved in right over them.
  At night, he read mysteries by candlelight
  and wrote stories of adventure and lust. By
  day he made love to Dolly Oesterreich,
  helped her keep house and made bathtub gin.
     On Aug. 22, 1922, the Oesterreiches
  returned home arguing. As the fight grew
  louder, Sanhuber hurried down from the
  to protect her, carrying two.25-caliber
  guns. When Oesterreich recognized Sanhuber,
  he flew into a rage. They struggled, the
  guns went off and Oesterreich was shot.
     Thinking fast, Sanhuber locked Dolly in
  a closet, then hurried upstairs to his
  hideaway before police arrived, summoned by
  a neighbor who heard the shots.
     She told police that a burglar had shot
  her husband, taken his expensive watch,
  locked her up and fled.
     But the detective became suspicious when
  she said that she and her husband had never
  quarreled. Fred Oesterreich was a wealthy
  man, and although the detective considered
  that motive for murder, he had no evidence.
     Dolly moved to a house nearby, and
  Sanhuber stayed in that attic too, writing
  on a typewriter he bought with proceeds
  the sale of his stories and with the
  and dimes -- never anything larger --
  bestowed on him by Dolly.
     Freed from her marriage, she became fond
  of her estate attorney, Herman S. Shapiro.
  She gave him a diamond watch, which he
  recognized as the one that the supposed
  burglar had stolen the night her husband
  slain. She explained that she had found it
  later under a window seat cushion.
     While Sanhuber wrote and Shapiro spent
  long hours in court, Oesterreich took up
  with a businessman named Roy H. Klumb. She
  begged him for a favor: She had a gun that
  looked just like the one that killed her
  husband. And she worried that the police
  might find it and suspect her of murder.
  Would he get rid of it for her? Dutifully,
  Klumb threw the gun into the La Brea Tar
     She told the same story to a neighbor,
  who buried the second gun in his yard.
     When Oesterreich broke off with Klumb,
  he told police about the gun and the tar
  pits. On July 12, 1923, 11 months after the
  murder, police found the gun near the
  tar and Oesterreich was arrested.
     The day the headlines hit, the neighbor
  walked into the police station with the
  second gun.
     But both were too rusted to determine
  whether they had fired the fatal bullets.
     From jail, Oesterreich pleaded with
  Shapiro to buy groceries for Sanhuber and
  tap on the ceiling of the bedroom closet to
  let him know he should come out.
     Sanhuber, starved for conversation,
  began telling the attorney lurid tales
  his 10 years with Dolly. Shapiro issued an
  ultimatum, and Sanhuber left the state.
     After Oesterreich was released on bail,
  Shapiro moved in with her --but not into
  attic. The charges were eventually dropped.
     But in 1930, after seven stormy years
  with Oesterreich, Shapiro moved out and
  clean. He told authorities what he knew.
     A second warrant was issued for
  Oesterreich's arrest; she was charged with
  conspiracy, and Sanhuber was charged with
     The papers dubbed it the "Bat Man" case
  after learning that Sanhuber had led a
  like existence in the attic.
     The jury found Sanhuber guilty of
  manslaughter, in spite of his defense that
  he had been enslaved by her. But the
  of limitations had run out and Sanhuber,
  43, walked free.
     At Oesterreich's conspiracy trial, famed
  attorney Jerry Giesler won a hung jury, and
  Oesterreich was free.
     In 1961, she died at age 75, less than
  two weeks after marrying her second husband
  and 30-year companion, Ray Bert Hedrick.
  GRAPHIC: Photo, Dolly Oesterreich at 1923
  hearing with, from left, attorney Jerry
  Giesler, detective Herman Cline and
  Frank Dominguez.  Los Angeles Times; Photo,
  Jurors visit Lafayette Park Place house
  where Fred Oesterreich was shot to death. 
  Los Angeles Times