
Growing up in a family of law enforcement officers lauded for their integrity might have become a burden on the next generation. All twelve of the children of Captain James and Susanna Cunningham lived long lives and added to our family lore. Their offspring, the grandchildren of the Cunningham family, had different pressures and challenges to deal with as the 19th century faded away. As the fear of threat to home and family from marauders ebbed, other threats replaced them.
Cliff Cunningham’s pressures, and demons, led him to a horrible crime and a violent end in 1915 in Los Angeles.
Robert Clifton Cunningham was born in Comanche County in the Shiloh Community in 1885. His father, James Washington Cunningham, was the Comanche County sheriff. When he was six months old the family moved into the town of Comanche.
When Cliff was only 2, his 7-year-old brother, Joe, died. Within a few years, three more babies died at birth in the Cunningham home. All were buried in the Shiloh Cemetery near their farm.
At age 18, Cliff enlisted in the Army and served during the Philippine–American War. He wrote letters home to his mother and family from the Philippines telling about his experiences. Some of the letters were printed in the Comanche Chief for the community to share. He told of the beauty of the country, the rugged terrain, hikes to waterfalls. And a story of seeing a 29-foot-long snake. He told about the natives: “All Phillipinos wear pants, have hair up, look androgynous. Further up the mountain, they only wear a smile.”
He served three years in the Army and was back home at age 21 when his mother died, leaving five living children. A year later Cliff’s oldest brother Champion died at age 27. Both were buried in the Shiloh Cemetery.
Cliff and his remaining older brother, Sydney, worked the farm while his older sisters, Ola and Floy, lived in Comanche and taught high school (Ola) and piano lessons (Floy).
There may have been indications of Cliff’s temper in 1909 when he was 24 years old. The Comanche Chief reports that Hobe Carnes, a resident of the county who was over 50 years old, stabbed Cliff with a pair of scissors and pierced his heart. Cliff was not expected to live from such a dangerous wound. Carnes was arrested and no more reports about the incident were published.
About that time, Cliff moved west. He settled in El Paso for a year and worked for the Southern Electric Street Railway.
Finally, Cliff moved even farther west and settled in the growing city of Los Angeles and worked in their local fire department. His obituary in the Comanche Chief noted that he made a reputation for coolness and bravery and received special letters of recommendation for his work.
But he was not brave and he was not cool in August of 1915. According to newspaper reports of the time, he had a drinking problem. And a hot head.
Cliff met Flora Saunders, a young widow with two children, at a picnic in 1910. They struck up a conversation when he asked her for a newspaper to wipe mud off of his shoe. They became friends and he called frequently on her at her home. Soon they were sharing his house and the landlady thought the couple were married and reported Flora used the name “Mrs. Cunningham.”
As his drinking and anger issues overwhelmed the relationship, Flora took her children and moved to another apartment, away from Cliff and his problems. Cliff found her there. In fear, she moved to another apartment, and Cliff had not been able to find her. She told her friends she was worried about his temper.
On August 12, 1915, friends had warned Flora that Cliff posed a danger to her. He didn’t know where she lived, but he certainly knew where she worked: a vegetarian cafeteria at Third and Hill in downtown LA. She had refused his request for her to leave the job, saying she wanted to continue to work and support her own children without his help. They had discussed marriage, but she was reluctant to solemnize their relationship because of his drinking habits.
Before lunchtime, Cliff Cunningham began drinking and his anger was building. He went to a second-hand store and purchased “the biggest revolver” they had and two rounds of ammunition. Loading the gun, he headed to Third and Hill.
Entering the cafeteria, he held the gun, but hid it under his coat. He took a tray and pushed through the line for food until he saw Flora serving squash.
“Are you going to come back with me or aren’t you?” he shouted with such anger and excitement, diners in the crowded restaurant turned toward him.
Flora shook her head too scared to speak.
“You’ve got one chance or you get this,” he said and flourished the old but powerful weapon.
She turned and ran into the kitchen behind a partition. Cunningham vaulted the serving table, tripping in the vegetables on the steam table, and he fired three times. Two of the shots hit the young woman’s torso.
Cooks, taken by surprise, had little opportunity to detain him. One threw a sugar bowl.. Cunningham darted out of the kitchen toward the cashier. Temporarily cornered, he turned the gun on himself and shot three times.
Despite the point blank blows, he remained standing, but began to waver on his feet as he ran towards the door lurching into a table where four frightened diners sat. Reaching the door he started across the street with dozens following him.
On the opposite side of the street, a fur store had a large stuffed bear standing outside its doors as a novelty to attract customers. Cliff stumbled toward the bear as if it were his goal and he and the bear toppled to the ground.He came to rest between the bear’s front legs as if he were in an embrace.
Ambulances and police soon arrived on the scene and carried the wounded couple to the hospital. News reports in the immediate aftermath said neither was expected to live.
Cunningham’s identity was not hard to ascertain since Flora’s friends in the restaurant knew she feared for her life, but the police also identified him from a letter in his jacket pocket from his brother in Comanche, Sidney Winfield Cunningham, sending him money he was owed.
Cliff regained consciousness and bemoaned the fact that he had not done “a better job.”
Cliff Cunningham died two hours later on August 12, 1915, in an LA hospital.
Newspaper reports a day later gave a brighter outlook for Miss Saunders’ prospects for surviving. Her children, Ollie, 12, and Chester, 8, were at her mother’s, Mrs. C.E. Busby, in Bakersfield.
A week later Cliff Cunningham’s body was on a train back to his hometown of Comanche. His obituary was on the front page of the Comanche Chief, not far from the article about the annual Cunningham Family Reunion, held at Uncle Aaron’s place for the 15th year. Cliff’s obituary outlined his life’s work and moves, ending with his work as a fireman in Los Angeles. No cause for death was noted.

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Sources: Los Angeles Express (Los Angeles, California) August 12, 1915, pg. 1-2, “Woman Pierced by Two Bullets.”
Los Angeles Times (Los Angeles, California) August 13, 1915, pg. 2, “Death Stalks in Cafeteria.”
Comanche Chief (Comanche, Texas) August 20, 1915, pg. 1, “Robert Clifton Cunningham.”