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From dot-com darling to disaster: The spectacular flameout of Andrew Gladney, Part 1

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"You do exactly what I told you to, immediately," Gladney allegedly threatened. "Listen fucker, you go out and get 25K from wherever the fuck you have to and wire it in (Jane Doe's) account today or post back to know when she'll receive it or, I'm going to seriously, week in ICU. Seriously, kick your twisted fucked up little brooding ass.... You've got a beating coming like you've never 'evern' [sic] shuddered to dare to think about."

Though the government does not name the target of Gladney's alleged threats, on June 7 of last year a Henry Wu of Arlington, Virginia, contacted the Clayton Police Department. The reason for the call: extortion, which was alleged to have taken place between March 29 and June 6 and which originated from Gladney's address.

Henry Wu did not respond to voicemail messages requesting comment for this story.

Clayton police referred the case to the FBI. According to a Clayton PD memo, in July of last year an FBI agent notified the department of an alleged domestic disturbance at the Gladneys': A confidential informant told the FBI that Gladney threw a beer bottle at his wife on July 18, and that Susan Wu had a black eye and bruises on her legs the informant felt had been caused by Gladney. The document shows that Wu asked the informant not to leave the house.

Clayton police twice tried to check on Wu, according to the memo, but no one answered the door. On the second occasion an officer saw the blinds of a third-floor window open and close. "It is to be noted that A. Gladney has a sophisticated surveillance system with cameras around his house as well as access to numerous weapons," states the memo.

In a motion to deny bail in the extortion case, Assistant U.S. Attorney Howard Marcus cites Gladney's collection of Asian anime porn, including one DVD that "contains animated graphic depictions of abductions and rapes." He also quotes a letter written by Susan Wu that was seized by the FBI. "I cannot take another episode where Andrew's 'righteous' anger that [sic] flashes into his terrible violence," reads the letter. "At one point, he had tied and gagged me with duct tape. Then terrorized me with descriptions of my torture and death. At one point, Andrew chased me out of the home, holding a gun, telling me that he is going to shoot me in the head."

St. Louis defense attorney Scott Rosenblum, who has handled criminal matters for Gladney in the past, counters in court pleadings that Gladney's DVDs are "lawful material readily available for purchase by the general public." (All three DVDs are listed for sale at online sites specializing in adult-oriented anime.) In regard to Wu's letter, Rosenblum supplies a sworn affidavit in which Wu calls her two-year marriage to Gladney "loving" and asserts that the missive, which was never mailed, was meant for Gladney's cousin, John Ross (no relation to Judge Ross). She wrote it amid "a series of disagreements between Andrew and me concerning his perceptions of my fidelity," Wu stated. "Andrew has never held a gun in his possession during the course of an argument between us or at anytime in anger," the affidavit continues. "In fact, to my knowledge, there has been no gun in our home for months."

U.S. Magistrate Judge Medler dismissed Wu's affidavit, deeming it "of questionable credibility." Noting that Gladney "takes psychotropic medication, specifically Xanax for anxiety," Medler expressed concern that he might also pose a danger to others. "[Gladney] is a known drug abuser, specifically crack cocaine," the judge wrote. Referring to a 2001 incident in which sodomy and assault charges were brought against Gladney and later dropped, Medler called the facts surrounding the case "deeply concerning" and wrote that "[a]lthough the state claimed that it had 'witness credibility' problems, the photographs from that incident show the victim covered with bites and gaping wounds all over her body allegedly inflicted by the defendant." The judge also referred to a confidential informant who had reported seeing Wu "with noticeable bruises, burns and marks on her body which were not typical and appeared to be 'the result of sadistic acts.'"

On this January night, however, Wu doesn't seem to be bruised, burned or marked in any way. Petite and thin, she has long, straight dark hair and doe eyes. When a knock interrupts her giggling, she peers through the blinds and, after a moment's hesitation, opens the door.

"I'm talking to my husband," she says, then adds, "He wants to speak to you."

Talking loudly and so rapidly it's nearly impossible to keep pace, Gladney launches into a diatribe against the St. Louis Post-Dispatch's coverage of his predicament and says he intends to sue the daily for libel. "I don't mind being the subject of an article," he says, then warns that Riverfront Times had better get the facts straight. He instructs the paper to arrange a jailhouse interview, asserting that his jailers will allow any visitor accompanied by an attorney. "They let me see all the attorneys I want!" he shouts.

Told such a scenario would likely be impossible to arrange, Gladney promises to call the paper within the week and conduct an interview by telephone. "Will it be a cover article?" he asks, his tone brightening. "Oh boy, I hope not. But if it is, at least get a picture from my wife!"

In 1921, St. Louisans C.L. Grigg, Edmund Ridgway and Franklin Gladney incorporated the Howdy Corporation, named for the crowd-pleasing soda Howdy Orange, which Grigg had created in 1920. It was a twilight career for all three men: The mixologist Grigg was a longtime advertising man, Ridgway was a financier and Gladney a preeminent patent lawyer who'd argued cases before the U.S. Supreme Court and penned articles for the Saturday Evening Post.

Carbonated beverages were commonplace by then, and the 52-year-old Grigg was looking for something that could separate his company from the pack. In those days soda makers trumpeted their products as feel-good formulas — Coca-Cola was commonly known to contain traces of the stimulant cocaine. Grigg envisioned a lemon-lime drink spiked with lithium citrate (a chemical touted at the time as a mild antidepressant) that could be marketed as a hangover cure. "Takes the 'ouch' out of grouch," the advertising would eventually boast.

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