Cow’s Moo Kills Child: Stories of Being Scared to Death

screaming

Does anybody remember the 1958 William Castle film, Macabre, where movie-goers got life insurance in case they died of fright? It is that sensational theme—death by terror—that we focus on today. We casually toss around phrases like: “I was scared to death!” “I just about dropped dead when I heard the news!” Is there fear or perhaps an uneasy memento mori under these words?

It was axiomatic in the newspapers of the past that people could die of fright. We might call it something different now: Broken Heart Syndrome, takotsubo or stress-induced cardiomyopathy. Typically, past news reports spoke of persons “frightened (or thrown) into convulsions.” Doctors certainly knew about things like heart failure, but it is interesting how often “dying of fright” is cited as a cause of death in thousands of news items. Whether or not it was true; it was certainly believed to be true. It may have simply been a journalistic convention–a convenient way to explain an unexplained death, or a way to make a story more sensational.

Here’s a snippet from a longer article that gives some standard contemporary medical wisdom about death from fear:

FRIGHTENED TO DEATH The Shock Which Ends Life With a Broken Heart

[British Medical Journal.]

The serious effects of shock to the nervous system, especially by fright, are constantly witnessed, the results being most commonly syncope and convulsions. Death itself is, fortunately, comparatively rare. It is reported in the newspapers to have occurred at Brockley on March 21st, in the case of a girl aged eighteen, who was frightened to death by a man dressed as a ghost, near the Deptford Cemetery. The pathology of emotional death is of great interest, and varies in different cases. In some instances a fatal issue results from sanguineous apoplexy; in others, and much more frequently, from shock to the heart. Examples of the former are recorded by Dr. D. Hack Tuke in his “Influence of the Mind Upon the Body.” Thus a woman at Bradford received a fright from a man throwing a stone against her window. He had previously threatened her. She soon afterward complained of numbness, and rapidly became insensible. There was right hemiplegia. She died in seven hours, and on post-mortem examination a clot of blood was found in the left lateral ventricle….[I]f the heart, as in Hunter’s case [John Hunter, the eminent doctor and surgeon for whom the Hunterian Collection is named], be strongly contracted on its contents and the blood expelled, one efficient cause of syncope with fatal results is present. Probably this was the pathological explanation of this unfortunate girl’s death from the silly practical joke played upon her. She arrived home after her fright in the road by the Deptford Cemetery at Brockley looking very ill and excited. She is said to have taken off her water-proof, drawn a chair to the table to take supper, then fallen forward with her head on the table, and died after a short struggle. Mr. Hollis, the medical man who was called in, made a post-mortem examination and reported that all the organs were healthy, but that the state of the heart, combined with the fright, would account for death. Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 29 September 1883: p. 10

Thunder, lightning, trains, mad dogs, earthquakes, sudden noises, glare from an automobile headlight, comets, Fourth of July fireworks, encounters with tramps and the insane: all were mentioned as causes of death by fear. Burglars were a particularly common cause of death, so common, in fact, that if you read that a lady, frightened by a burglar, dropped dead of heart failure before the alarm could be raised, The End, you’ve pretty much covered that category.

A more interesting cause of death was the apparition. In this case, the “ghost” was the lady’s doppelgänger, which she rightly understood as an omen of her own death.

Mrs. Coombes, Wife of one Coombes, a Chairman; her Death was occasioned by a Fright, being far gone with Child; for going into the Cellar, to all Appearance well, she gave a great Shriek, her Husband running down to her to know the Reason, she declar’d she saw her own Apparition in a Winding Sheet, standing before her; nor could any Arguments deface the Impression made on her Mind, so strongly did she believe it. She sickened immediately, and died soon after. Whitehall Evening Post Or London Intelligencer [London, England] 3 January 1761: p. 2

DIED OF FRIGHT

Miner Sees an Apparition and the Scare Proves Fatal.

[Susquehanna (Penn.) Cor. New York Press.]

Robert Montgomery, a well-known resident of Wanamie, Penn., recently died from fright or a belief that he had been warned of his approaching death, and that he had a premonition that he could not live.

Montgomery, who was a brave soldier in the war, was employed in a coal mine near Wilkesbarre. Tw weeks before he died he said that when working he head a peculiar noise in the mine. He paid no attention to it.

Soon a strange feeling came over him as though there was a strong draught circulating through the mine, and he became chilly. He looked up from oiling the machinery at the repetition of the strange noise. He said he felt as though there was some one else there besides himself, but he could not see any one.

Then he beheld something white like a man’s figure. It moved as though floating in the air and kept a certain distance from him. He spoke to the apparition, but it made no answer and soon disappeared.

Montgomery made search, but did not find anyone. He told his friends that he regarded the wraith as an omen of death. He at once gave up his position, and in two days took to his bed, although he had no specific sickness which the physicians could discover. He continued to talk of the wraith, and said it was of no avail to take medicine because he was doomed.

His friends tried to dispel his thoughts about death by saying that the “supposed” wraith was a man sent into the mine by the company to see if he performed his duty. But Montgomery would only believe that it was an omen of death, and gradually grew weaker until he died. Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 5 December 1896: p. 11

Fake ghosts/supernatural creatures were one of the most popular causes of death by fear; they also drove a surprising number of the nervous into hopeless insanity.

MINER SCARED TO DEATH

Zanesville, O., Dec 25. Howard Mills, a miner living near Coaldale, was scared to death about midnight by some boys who rigged up a “ghost,” which with the aid of some thin paddles with hooks to swing through the air, was able to emit unearthly groans and shrieks. Mills was confronted with the machine while returning home late at night, and was so overwhelmed with the terrific noise and the suddenness of the apparition that he dropped dead in his tracks. He was a stalwart man, 47 years of age, and the father of six children.The Ohio Democrat [Logan, OH] 2 January 1902: p. 1

At Preston, England, two boys, Richard Foreshaw and Robert Mawdsley, have been committed for trial for manslaughter in frightening a young girl to death. They got a coffin and tied a string to it, placing it in a path where it would be passed by some young factory girls at dark and by drawing it along gave the girls a severe fright, from which one of them died the next day. Pittsfield [MA] Berkshire County Eagle 3 December 1858: p 2

At Bowling Green, Kentucky, a short time since, Miss Rochester, daughter of W. H. Rochester, died of fright occasioned by a rude boy having run after her, on her way to school, with a mask or false face on him. She ran, in her fright, into a pond of water, whence she was carried to her father’s house, where—when nature was exhausted by frequent convulsive or apoplectic fits—she expired: aged 5 years and 5 months. American Sentinel. Washington [DC] Globe 2 September 1833: p. 2

There is a tradition that [at “The Old Mansion”] an invalid wife was frightened to death by her husband placing a hideous mask at the window of her sick room, and that this husband, while enamoured of his housekeeper, affected great grief at his wife’s funeral, sitting his horse backward and demanding a sheet for his tears. Growing out of this tradition is another ghost story to the effect that the spirit of this woman haunted the house for many years and that groans, screams, stealthy footsteps and other fearful sounds, drove tenant after tenant away from the place. A History of Caroline County Virginia, Marshall Wingfield, 1924: pp. 356-58

The Frankfort Journal of Aug. 17th, has the following—In a school at Turin, superintended by the nuns of St. Joseph, the children having lately made a disturbance by uttering cries, the sisters threatened them with the apparition of the devil, if they continued to make a noise. Soon after, on a signal given, there appeared a chimney sweep dressed in a frightful garb, with horns and a fiery looking mouth. The children were so much frightened that some of them fainted. At the noise caused by this scandal, the house and street were soon filled with a crowd. At length the Rector of the parish came, and put an end to the shameful exhibition, but not till several of the children had died of terror.” Washington [DC] Globe 5 October 1833 p. 3

A LESSON TO PONDER ON.

William B. Drees, of Minster, is a raving maniac and thereby hangs one of the saddest tales that pencil ever sat down. It is a lesson of horror to the practical jokers, who are all too numerous.

Drees was a young man, his age being only twenty-four. As he was of a highly excitable temperament, he was early singled out a victim of those who foolishly believe pranks that cause terror and suffering to others are fun. One of those strange black nights when monstrous forebodings and awful shadows creep upon him, who is solitary and alone in its racking silence, a party of these crept noiselessly upon him, as he stood guard in an immense deserted factory and clothed in white sheets, suddenly arose about him as so many ghosts, uttering the most dreadful groans. Affrighted beyond measure he fled wildly into the outer darkness, running until he fell from sheer exhaustion. It was a great joke and excruciatingly funny, and the jokers almost split their sides with laughter, until they heard that Drees had been picked up in convulsions. Then they had some doubts about it and when they saw him started for the asylum shackled hand and foot, they realized the criminal folly of which they had been guilty. Portsmouth [OH] Times 11 April 1908: p. 6

A few nights ago Henry Waters, a youth, whose home is near Youngstown, Ohio, was aroused from his sleep by something in the room. He sat bolt upright in bed. The moon shone through a window, and as young Waters looked towards the light he saw a tall figure in ghostly attire slowly approaching. He spoke, but the ghost made no reply. Then he grasped his revolver, and thus armed and thus emboldened said: “If you are a man I kill you; if you are ghost this won’t hurt you.” He pulled the trigger and report came, but as with quick motion the ghost lifted an arm Waters heard the bullet rebound against the headboard of the bed. This sent a cold chill through the youth, but he discharged his revolver again and again, and then, wild with fear, hurled it at the intruder. At that moment the ghost threw off his disguise, several other parties to the joke came laughing in and lights were struck. The merry-makers had drawn the bullets from the pistol, leaving enough powder to make a report, and at each discharge the play-ghost had thrown a bullet against the headboard. All this the practical jokers expected Waters to enjoy, as he was a jovial fellow, but they found him first dazed, then incoherent, then raving, and now, as his parents fear—a maniac. New Hampshire Patriot and State Gazette [Concord, NH] 16 March 16 1882: p. 2

While fainting at the sight of blood is a cliché, dying at the sight of it was actually not uncommon.

New York, May 22. Fright resulting from the discovery that the front of her shirt waist was covered with a crimson stain was responsible, physicians believe, for the death of Mrs. Kate Harding, a widow, 33 years old, of No. 301 Webster Avenue, Parkville, who was accidentally stabbed in the breast by a sharp-pointed bread knife in the hand of her sister, Mrs. Rose Logomasin, this morning. Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 23 Mary 1908: p. 2

A singular death is reported from Darion, England. A young lady, the daughter of a surgeon, happened to go into a kitchen where a butcher was in the act of killing a brace of ducks. Seeing blood running from one of the birds she fainted and, being removed to a couch, died almost immediately. Death is supposed to have resulted from the shock occasioned to the nervous system, the young lady having a great aversion to the sight of blood of any kind. Macon [GA] Telegraph 10 August 1865: p. 3

Sudden Unexplained Death Syndrome is a recognized, if elusive disease, perhaps related to the Old Hag. This man seems to have had something similar.

HIS FOES

Attacked Him in a Dream and Wilcox Died of Fright When He Woke Up.

Marion, Ind., September 20. Peter S. Wilcox, aged 60 years, awoke his wife at 4 o’clock this morning by springing up in bed and fighting an imaginary foe. Mrs. Wilcox attempted to rouse him from what appeared to be a dream, but before she could do so he fell back on the bed and died. Physicians declare he had died of nightmare.

Mrs Wilcox said her husband was subject to nightmare and that he had been frightened a number of times, believing he was murderously attacked. She said he often told her of what he had experienced in the dreams and that he feared he would not recover from the shocks. Wilcox apparently was in excellent health. He owned a large fruit and garden farm and worked yesterday. Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 21 September 1906: p. 1

Others did not have to dream, their enemies were real.

 DIED OF FRIGHT

Caused By Her Husband’s Threat To Kill Her.

The curtain fell on the final act of a remarkable domestic tragedy when Mrs. Florence Buehler expired in the County Hospital. The woman actually died from fright.

Her husband was Ernest Buehler, and her life for a long time had been most unhappy. Several months ago she applied for a divorce, but friends effected a truce between herself and her spouse. Two weeks ago, however, the family troubles again became acute when Buehler threatened his wife with a revolver. The woman left her home at 5220 Maplewood Avenue with the purpose of visiting a lawyer’s office, but was waylaid by Buehler, whose actions became so menacing that Mrs. Buehler in her terror fell unconscious. In this condition she was taken to the hospital.

Buehler was arrested, and in a cell in the Twentieth Precinct Station pricked his wrist with a pin, causing great loss of blood. He was then removed to the County Jail Hospital where he succeeded in killing himself.

Meanwhile Mrs. Buehler hovered between life and death. Two days ago she was told of her husband’s suicide. This news intensified the first shock, and she sank rapidly until death came to her relief. It is not known that the couple had any relatives in Chicago. Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 19 September 1900: p. 6

Animals could also die of fright:

The Lafayette Courier says that a farmer on the line of the Valley Road, near Delphi, had a valuable colt frightened to death a few days since, by the whistle of a locomotive. The colt was over two years old, and one of the farmer’s sons was engaged in breaking him to harness. While standing near the track of the railroad, a train came thundering along—the engine gave a shrill and long continued whistle, which so frightened the animal that he plunged forward, and after running about fifty yards, fell dead. The Vincennes [IN] Weekly Western Sun 25 April 1857

While the parade was passing Rohrbacher & Allen’s store Friday, a horse owned by F.F. Fenn of Tallmadge dropped dead. He was frightened to death by the big elephant. It is said he burst a blood vessel. His remains were at once removed to the bone yard. Akron [OH] Daily Democrat 15 September 1899: p. 4

Captain Godfrey, of the 7th Cav., said: “I once saw a cat frightened to death. It was one that used to play with my children at West Point. It was playing around the baby carriage with a child, when Prof. Bassey’s big dog came up. He made a grand rush at the cat, but stopped within 10 feet of it. The cat braced itself up, bowed its back, assumed a defensive attitude, and prepared for war. I drove the dog off, and going to the cat, put my hand on its back, when it fell over. It never moved. It was dead. There was no frothing at the mouth, nor any of the contortions seen in fits. The cat was simply scared to death.” The National Tribune [Washington, DC] 25 December 1890: p 5

At the Brighton review of English volunteers a horse, died of fright. He was near the 18 pounder battery when it was fired, and at the report he leaped suddenly up and fell dead— the cause, a rupture of the great vessels of the heart, through terror. Vincennes [IN] Gazette 31 May 1862

Our Dumb Chums could also be the cause of sudden death. This piece is from James Rodwell, who wrote so eloquently about the perils of rats in a previous post.

Unhappily, however, these rat-frights do not always terminate so harmlessly as in the preceding cases…The “Presse,” of Paris, some time ago related an extraordinary case of death from fright. A young woman was passing near the Rue Cadet, when she suddenly fell to the ground, exclaiming “The rat! the rat!” At first nobody could comprehend the meaning of her exclamations; but on being taken into a druggist’s shop, and placed on a chair, a rat was seen to run from beneath her gown. It was then evident that the rat, which had come from a sewer just as she was passing, had got between her legs, and that, when she fell from fright, it had concealed itself under her clothing. She was taken home to her friends, in a state of delirium, which lasted four days, during which time the only words she uttered were “The rat! the rat!” but on the evening of the fourth day she expired.

Now here was a melancholy occurrence arising out of this immoderate fear of rats. What had the rat done to her? Nothing whatever, except hiding in her clothes, and making its escape as soon as possible. Yet from the veriest fear she becomes deranged, and dies a maniac. The Rat: Its History & Destructive Character, With Numerous Anecdotes, by James Rodwell, (Uncle James.) 1858

FRIGHTENED TO DEATH BY A CAT

Animal Jumps on Bed in St. Louis Hospital and Patient Dies From the Shock

Shortly before the death of Mrs. Mary Ziegler of 1210 North Spring Avenue, St. Louis, a cat gained entrance to her room in the hospital, where she had undergone a critical operation. The cat clawed at her and frightened her to death.

It was near midnight before the physician in charge had succeeded in getting her to sleep. The nurse, wearied with her constant watching, was also asleep.

The patient awoke to find a cat on her bed. Then followed a shriek and a howl. The woman’s cries awakened the nurse, who rushed in to the room to find a gray cat tearing the covers around the patient. The nurse made a clutch at the animal, but it eluded her hand and, leaping from the bed, ran from the room. She chased it through the halls and it was finally cornered and put out of the building. When the nurse returned to the ward the patient was shaking with terror, and it was found that he shock had wrecked her nervous system. She died before morning. Evening News [San Jose, CA] 7 August 1906: p. 3

Near Chappell’s Gap, Ky., a three-year-old girl was frightened to death by a gander which had attacked her.Daily Public Ledger [Maysville KY] 7 April 1911: p. 1

COW’S MOO KILLS CHILD

Baby Frightened into Convulsions When Wandering Bovine Puts Head in Window

Investigation by Dr. H. Albert McMurray, coroner of Westmoreland County, into the death of James Henry Pershing, 3-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Pershing of Grapeville revealed that the child literally was frightened to death.

Several days ago the boy was playing when a cow at pasture in a lot adjoining the house looked in at an open window of the room where the child was. As the little one glanced toward the window the cow mooed loudly.

With a scream the child collapsed and went into convulsions. A physician was unable to give the boy any relief, and death ensued twelve hours later. Greensburg (Pa.) Dispatch Philadelphia Record. The Tulsa [OK] Star 18 December 1915: p. 7 

A Lady Frightened to Death. The Rockingham (Va.) Register states that Mrs. Dietrick, wife of Mr. Jacob Dietrick, residing near Mt. Crawford, in that county, was frightened to death a few weeks since. Her little daughter for sport threw a tree-frog upon her lap, which began jumping up towards her face, and so frightened her that she died in two or three days. Daily National Intelligence [Washington, DC] 15 June 1852: p. 3

I assumed 20th-century medical advances would wipe out “death by fear,” but the term lingered on. I was surprised to see a 1994 news story about a man who, the police said, apparently died of fright while accusing another driver of trying to run him over. Any later examples? And have any of you actually seen a death certificate where the cause of death is “fear?”  Notarize and rush to Chriswoodyard8 AT gmail.com

 

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the DeadThe Ghost Wore BlackThe Headless HorrorThe Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead.

The Devil in a Diving Suit – Scared to Death in Toledo

The Devil in a Diving Suit -Scared to Death in Toledo   Plague Doctor in protective suit
The Devil in a Diving Suit -Scared to Death in Toledo Plague Doctor in protective suit

The images of those brave souls working among the virus-stricken in their ghostly protective suits called to mind this bizarre story from 1903.

DEVIL

She Believed the Officer

Who Came To Investigate a Report of Smallpox

Poor Woman So Scared By the Hideous Apparition

That She Died in Terror—Her Toledo Relatives Now Threaten a Damage Suit.

Toledo, Ohio, February 4. Haunted to death by a hideous apparition was the fate which befell Mrs. Joseph Smolinski, of 1207 Nebraska avenue, according to the story told by her husband and other relatives.

Mrs. Smolinski was 33 years old, well educated, pretty and the wife of a well-to-do mechanic. Her death occurred last Saturday, and it was pitiable in the extreme.

About a month ago Mrs. Smolinski became ill with pneumonia, but by careful treatment rapidly recovered. Following her recovery the outer skin on her hands began to peel off, as is invariably the case following fever attacks.

Some of the neighbor women who visited her, noticing this condition of the woman’s hands, informed the penthouse authorities that the woman had smallpox. Then began the trouble that resulted in the woman’s pathetic death. Following the report of smallpox an agent of the Health Department, clad in the outlandish though necessary apparel of the physicians who daily visit the penthouse, entered the home of the Smolinskis.

The sudden appearance of a fierce-looking object, helmet topped, clad in an oil-cloth suit, with a sponge at the mouth hole and a pair of slits for the eyes, for all the world resembling a deep sea diver, suddenly appearing before the woman startled her. She had never heard or seen such an object in her life. The only thing she could imagine this peculiarly uniformed health officer resembled was the evil one, and that belief at once took possession of her mind, and all that medical skill could do failed to remove the impression first formed.

The next day it was found that the woman had no smallpox, and the Health Department did everything possible to correct the blunder, but too late to save the woman’s life. The vision of that strangely garbed health officer haunted the poor woman night and day for two weeks, until death mercifully relieved her from her awful sufferings from fear and terror. The most powerful opiate failed to have any effect on the woman.

She either sat up or laid in bed wildly staring about the room, and at intervals trying to shrink back, as if fearful of the too near approach of the awful apparition that constantly haunted her. Friends tried to explain to her that the awful thing was harmless or had vanished, but all their efforts could not influence the mind which seemed possessed of only that one impression.

At time the woman would become so terror stricken at what seemed to be before her that she would shriek out in pain and beg those around her to protect her from the awful monster. Nature’s strength finally gave way and the woman collapsed, but even in death her last struggles were used to save herself from the apparition. The woman’s relatives, who are wealthy, have secured counsel, and say they will bring an action for heavy damages against the city of Toledo on the ground that Mrs. Smolinski’s death was caused by the blundering conduct of an agent of the Health Department. Besides a husband, the deceased leaves five small children.

Bay City [MI] Times 6 February 1903: p. 1

Certainly I’d seen the beaked Plague-doctor costumes of the Renaissance, like the illustration at the head of the post, but for some reason I didn’t think that protective clothing was being worn by public health officials in 1903. I was unable to find a 19th or early-20th century illustration of a suit such as terrified the unfortunate Mrs. Smolinski.

Note the “well-educated” and “well-to-do” in practically the first paragraph. An Eastern European name usually led to an assumption of ignorance and superstition. There had been a flood of Russian and Eastern European immigration to the United States after 1870 and fears were rife about anarchists and foreigners with unpronounceable names, odd customs, and smelly foods overrunning decent peoples’ neighborhoods. It is no accident that the “Devil Baby” legend grew up about this time.

In the 1910 census Joseph Smolinski was listed as age 46, widowed, living with seven children: five daughters and two sons in Toledo in. I have not found any record of a lawsuit filed against the Health Department.

Previously I wrote about people who were supposedly scared to death. Any other examples? Send to Chriswoodyard8 AT mail.com, being careful not to sneak up on her and tap her on the shoulder unexpectedly.

 

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead. And visit her newest blog, The Victorian Book of the Dead.

The Nurse Brought Death: c. 1910s

 

 

 

1921 nurse by crib

A Persistent Warning

I had been about five years married. My husband was a…business man, healthy and strong, and we were the possessors of two dear little girls, and very happy. As usual we started on our summer holiday, but, after the second week, I noticed a distinct change in my husband; he looked tired and ill, and he was very irritable. He made no complaint and said he was all right; but I felt anxious to get home. It was on the night after our return that I went to bed feeling very tired and soon dropped off into a heavy sleep, but was suddenly awakened and heard the clock strike twelve. I rubbed my eyes and listened, and then I saw distinctly leaning on the foot of my bed, a nurse in uniform, with head bowed down. It gave me a start and I called out “Nurse.” This awoke my hubby, and he was ever so cross. I turned my head to tell him, but, when I looked again, she was gone. Of course, he said it was a dream, but it was not, and I slept no more that night. I did not mention the matter to anyone, fearing they would laugh at me. But the next night, I was awakened by my elder little girl calling. I went to her and found she was greatly frightened. She said a nurse had wakened her, and described the vision as I had seen it. I got into her bed, but it was a long time before she went off to sleep. It worried me so much that I sent for mother, and, before I had time to tell her anything, I heard the child telling her just as she had told me. Mother laughed about it and said she would stay all night. Imagine what I felt like when, just as the clock was striking twelve, mother called out: “The ‘nurse’ has awakened me.” My husband was furious at being wakened, as he said, by hysterical women, but in the morning we all looked so ill—my husband particularly so—that, without telling us, mother sent for the doctor. When she told my husband, he was furious, put on his hat and went out. I was sitting at the window waiting for doctor, when an ambulance drove up. I rushed to the gate and was met by the nurse. Then, out slipped the doctor. They carried my husband in. He had fallen in a faint in the road, just as doctor was on his way to the house. He sent for an ambulance, and the nurse came with it. I tried hard to get nurse to stay with me, but she could not. My husband had a terrible illness from which he never recovered properly. Nurse often came in person to see me. Then, one day, I had the sad news brought to me that “pneumonia” had claimed her. But, up to the time of my husband’s death, I often saw her and knew it was to prepare me for some trouble. As the clock was striking twelve midnight on December 21/96, nurse came to me again. I could not sleep, and put my hand under the pillow to get my flashlight. The flashlight would not work, so I felt for my husband’s. He said his was out of order, but he would take them in the morning to be repaired. Those were his last words. Later, I found him dead, but I have never seen nurse since.

Warnings From Beyond, Signs, Visions, and Premonitions told by “Daily News” Readers, S. Louis Giraud, editor, (London, UK: Fleetgate Publications, n.d.): pp. 12-13

Hart Island: 1900

hart's island open trench jacob riis
Laborers loading coffins into an open trench at the city burial ground on Hart’s Island, c. 1890, Jacob A. Riis https://collections.mcny.org/Explore/Highlights/Jacob%20A.%20Riis/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwy6T1BRDXARIsAIqCTXoo4zKXrtfdt_L9PWnQKBnuj5O1hkVxPkcOMapfHsbz8Xu9-pGirccaApeZEALw_wcB&gclid=Cj0KCQjwy6T1BRDXARIsAIqCTXoo4zKXrtfdt_L9PWnQKBnuj5O1hkVxPkcOMapfHsbz8Xu9-pGirccaApeZEALw_wcB

The unwanted, lost and unidentified dead of New York are still buried in the same Potter’s Field on Hart’s Island. Modern descriptions of burials on Hart Island are an eerie echo of the story below.

BURIED IN POTTER’S FIELD

The Grewsome Trips of the Fidelity

Her Daily Cargo of Pauper Dead

Scenes at the City Cemetery, Hart’s Island. [sic]

Among the boats that may be seen on the East River any day is a small craft bearing the name Fidelity. People to whom the various vessels are only slightly known see nothing peculiar about the boat, because she is like hundreds of little vessels on the East and North rivers used for conveying freight and passengers between points where the larger vessels do not make landings. But to the river men and to the people who spend their time near the east waterfront the little boat is known as “the deadboat.”

She belongs to the city, has a crew of four deckhands, besides a mate, an engineer and a fireman, and is commanded by Captain Edward McEvoy. This boat makes the tour of the city institutions on the East River daily and collects the bodies of the dead and takes them to the Morgue. Randall’s Island, Ward’s Island, Blackwell’s Island and the Harlem Hospital all contribute to the grewsome cargo which is landed every evening at the Morgue, where the bodies of the homeless and the friendless are also taken.

“We have dull and busy seasons,” said Captain McEvoy, “but we can usually count on about two a day from Randall’s Island, about three a day from Ward’s Island, and Blackwell’s Island gives us about ten a day. The North Brother Island dead are taken care of by the Health Department; the Harlem Hospital, at One-hundred-and-twentieth-st., is good for about three a day.”

THE FIDELITY’S CARGO

All the bodies as they come aboard are handled by the deckhands and are piled on the after deck, covered with tarpaulins, and when the Fidelity steams down the river with her load for the Morgue, passengers on passing vessels would never suspect the character of her cargo.

Twice a week in the winter months and three times a week during the warm season the Fidelity makes a trip to Hart’s Island, where the bodies from the Morgue which have not been claimed or identified are buried in Potter’s Field, or, as it is officially, the City Cemetery.

“It’s all the same after you are dead,” said a man who had made the trip, “but if you want to know the advantage of passing away among friends make a trip to Hart’s Island on a burying day.”

The boat’s load, which varies in size from thirty to one hundred boxes, stands on the dock and in the hallways of the Morgue, ready to be taken away early in the morning. Every box is furnished with a card which contains the name, age, sex, cause of death, etc., of the subject, or, where the name is unknown, a number corresponding with the one on the Morgue records, by which everything that is known on the body may be ascertained. The marks on the box also show whether the person was a Catholic or a Protestant, when that fact may be ascertained.

“How many ye got to-day?” the deckhand asked one of the Morgue helpers who assist the regular attendants for their board and what they can pick up from undertakers in the way of tips for helping with the claimed bodies.

“Oh, it’s a small day. Ten big and twenty-seven little ones.” That meant that there were ten large coffins and twenty-seven coffins with children’s bodies to be taken away. The cargo was taken on board with less care and ceremony than would have been devoted to a like number of boxes in the hands of a transportation concern marked “Handle with care,” the boat moved away from the dock, which was littered with old and broken coffins, and the trip to Potters Field began.

AT HART’S ISLAND.

The distance to Hart’s Island is about fifteen miles, past the City Hospital, Penitentiary, Almshouse, Maternity Hospital, Insane Asylum, House of Refuge, Idiots’ Asylum, Infants’ Hospital, North Brother Island and about six miles beyond Fort Schuyler, on Throg’s Neck and Willets Point. At the landing there were several officials in the uniform of the Department of Correction and three men in convict’s stripes.

“Didn’t expect you to-day,” one of the officers called in greeting to the captain, “you had such a big load yesterday.”

The boat was made fast and the bodies, which had been transported by the Charities Department, were transferred to the custody of the Department of Correction. The three convicts loaded the boxes into a wagon and it started on its first trip to a trench about one hundred yards from the landing.

John Bopp, the Superintendent of Potter’s Field, who has been in charge of the place for thirty years, and in spite of the nature of his work and the surroundings, retains a cheerful disposition, said:

“We have about fifty convicts here, who are detailed from the Workhouse, but some of them object to handling the coffins, so we select three men who are willing to take the job and give them a ration of whiskey after every load has been disposed of. These men have to do no other work, and, while they think they have ‘a graft,’ the other convicts, although they envy them the whiskey, call them ghouls.”

The wagon brings the bodies to the open trench, which is 45 feet long, 15 feet wide and 7 feet deep, and into this the boxes are placed after Frederick Bartels, the assistant superintendent, who is serving his seventeenth year at the Field, has scratched the number on the box with an instrument called a scriber. The long ends of the trenches run east and west, and the bodies are placed in them facing north and south, heads to the edge. A row of twenty-five is placed at each side of the trench, and on this layer of fifty a thin covering of earth is placed until more bodies are received, when the trench is “tripped” by the convicts. This is the term for the process of taking the earth off the boxes before the next layer is put down. This is repeated until the trench holds three layers, or 150 bodies, when it is covered with earth, and built up about a foot. When this has been done a new plot for 150 bodies is laid out and numbered. A record is kept of the place occupied by every box, and the books which are kept by Mr. Bartels show all particulars necessary for identification in case a body should be claimed by friends or relatives.

All the coffins marked with a cross are buried in the Catholic plot, on the north end, and separate trenches are devoted to nameless children, unidentified bodies and boxes from the colleges, of which latter there are nine or ten every week.

The records show that since the City Cemetery was founded, in 1869, 110,751 bodies have been buried there. Last year’s contribution was 4,377, of which 1,829 were credited to the “Outdoor Poor,” 362 to Bellevue Hospital and 435 to the Foundlings. There is a special plot for soldiers’ graves, in which about forty bodies are buried, the last being two victims of yellow fever, who contracted the disease in Cuba and died at North Brother Island. This plot is marked by a handsome monument and is decorated every Memorial Day. Several attendants who died on the island are also buried in separate graves.

One enclosure contains the bodies of two little children whose mother asked that they might be kept separate from the others so that she might know where the little ones were laid away, and near the south end of the field is another child’s grave, the existence of which is unknown to the little one’s parents or friends. Some years ago, so goes the story, a man was going abroad with his family, and as they boarded the ship an attendant noticed the deathly pallor of the infant in the mother’s arms. Examination showed that the child was ill, and before the vessel sailed the child was dead, and the body was left for burial. The story reached Potter’s Field before the body arrived there, and in the hope that the names of the parents might be learned a separate grave was made of the body, but all efforts in that direction have failed….

“The men who work in the trenches where the bodies are laid away have a grewsome job,” said an officer of the Department, “and one for which the ‘drunk and disorderly’ on the island don’t envy them; in fact, being put in this gang is by no means a mark of distinction, and yet they see less mourning than the men who work in a private cemetery. There relatives and friends stand about the open graves and weep for those who have passed away. Here the bodies come, are carted to the trench, lowered and covered with earth, and that is all. No one knows, no one cares; a hundred and fifty make a trench full, and then a new hole is dug. Men grow accustomed to all kinds of work, and there’s probably no convict gang in the New-York institutions where there is less of the blues than among the helpers at Potter’s Field.”

New York Tribune 1 April 1900: p. 6

Note: This is an excerpt from The Victorian Book of the Dead. In the book it is preceded by a look at the New York Morgue in 1868.

 

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead. And visit her newest blog The Victorian Book of the Dead.

Cholera in Hamburg: 1892

Hamburg cholera hospital
Taken at the Marienkrankenhaus cholera ward in Hamburg. 1892 https://www.mopo.de/hamburg/16-8-1892-der-tag–an-dem-die-cholera-nach-hamburg-kam-13244746

HAMBURG A CITY OF DEATH.

Dreariness and Desolation, Mourning and Misery on Every Hand, All Pleasure Forgotten.

THE CITY’S VAST COMMERCE BLOCKED

And All Who Could Possibly Flee From the Plague-Stricken Place Have Gone.

THE SCOURGE SPREADING ALL OVER THE FREE PORT.

Personal Investigation of Affairs in the Stricken City by a Dispatch Correspondent—Sad Sights on Every Street—The Plague Not Confined Now to the Poorer Portions of the Place—Hospitals Crowded and the Ambulance Service Inadequate—The Hotels Without Guests—All Sorts of Vehicles Brought Into Requisition for Burial Purposes—Wagonloads of Coffins Jostle Against Funeral Processions on the Way to the Cemeteries—More Than 100 Children in One Asylum All Orphaned by the Plague—The Undertakers Too Busy to Go to Bed—Grief-Stricken Husbands, Wives and Parents Driven to Suicide—A Number of Other Sad Incidents of the Scourge.

[By Cable to the Dispatch.]

Hamburg, Sept. 8 [Copyright.]

This city, usually at this season one of the gayest places in Europe, an aristocracy of merchant princes who live in elaborate style in beautiful houses with magnificent surroundings, where no element of pleasure is lacking, is to-day a city of death and desolation, of mourning and misery, a city of coffins and hearses, of Rachaels weeping for their children, of children crying for their parents, of wives mourning their husbands and husbands mourning their wives. Hamburg’s vast commerce with all nations is at a standstill. Her miles of wharfage are lined and double-lined with idle steamships and sailing vessels, and only an occasional tug or lighter disturbs her waters. Her families have fled from the great houses and beautiful grounds of Hohenfeld and Uhlenhors, on the one side of the Alster, and from Harvestshade and Dotherbaum on the other. Her hotels are vacant save for an occasional benighted traveler, and her schools, theaters, opera houses and concert halls are closed. Almost All Travel Suspended.

The first intimation I had of the manner in which the plague is regarded on the Continent arose out of the circumstances that every railroad guard on the route from London after I reached Belgium looked at me with curiosity when he read the word Hamburg on my ticket. I was the only passenger on the Bremen express who got off at Hamburg Saturday evening, and the others shut their windows when they saw the name of the station, as if they feared that the deadly atmosphere of the polluted suburbs would penetrate the smoke and steam and innoculate them with the deadly virus in the railway carriages.

The station was only half lighted, and deserted save for the station master and a single porter who carried my luggage a quarter of a mile before he could find a conveyance to take me to a hotel– conditions somewhat different from the usual bustle of the omnibuses, cabs, hotel runners and railway servants.

Desolation Over All the City.

The streets, even in the central part of the town, were all but deserted, the tables outside of the cafes were without occupants and desolation was upon the city.

When I drove up before the great Hotel de’l Europe, beautifully situated upon the Alsterdamm, a tree-lined terrace facing the blue waters of the Binnen-Alster, there were so many dress coats in the corridor that I at first fancied that the Hamburgs were celebrating the plague after a manner suggested by Poe in “The Masque of the Bed Death.” It turned out that all the waiters were gathered in the hall to discuss the prevailing topic, owing to lack of business and the dread of remaining in the rear rooms alone.

I was the first guest to arrive at the hotel since it had been depopulated more than a week before. They were delighted to see me. The proprietor was on the sidewalk to bid me welcome before I had alighted from the cab. Three or four porters struggled for the honor of bringing in my luggage. Two pages fought for my umbrella, and a retinue of servants escorted me to the bridal chamber.

All the Big Hotels Deserted.

The hotel was absolutely empty, save for two guests who could not get away, and the employes, and the loneliness of the echoing halls and stairways impressed me as nothing else had done with the actuality of the presence of pestilence. The same state of affairs, I learned, existed at all the other big hotels. There were but two or three guests at the Kronprinen, the Hamburger and the Victoria, and only one at the Hotel Street.

The waiter who served my supper that evening, where I sat alone in a big dining hall, among empty tables, beamed with pleasure when he took my order. He made a brave effort to ameliorate the gloom of the situation by informing me that the head waiter on his way home the night before had met three great luggage vans, each drawn by six horses, and piled high with coffins of the cholera victims and had followed them part way to Ohlsdorf cemetery, for the entertainment afforded when an occasional box of human clay fell into the street.

A Peculiar Way to be Cheerful.

The waiter made a further effort to be cheerful by bringing me a copy of the Hamburger Correspondent, containing a table of statistics showing the number of deaths up to that morning.

I visited some of the cafes and beer gardens during the evening. There were few people present in any of them, and they did not keep up the German reputation for boisterous merriment. One the contrary, they were very quiet, and they talked even less in the streets on their way home, seeming to shrink as they passed other streets, as if they feared the cholera fiend might be lurking at the corners ready to spring out and strike them down.

A new phase had come upon the plague during the latter part of the week. It had previously been confined to the lower classes who live in the suburbs of Hamm and Hammersbrook and in Spitalerstrasse, Steinstrasse and other densely populated streets along the poisoned Elbe. In the latter part of the week it began to break out in the upper part of the city, far from the noxious waters, where Prof. Koch thinks it originated. The Hamburg newspapers have made no comment upon this circumstance, and of course it does not appear in official returns, which only deal in totals.

Some Singularly Sad Cases.

I heard of several cases. One of these under exceptionally sad conditions was that of O. W. Pollitz, a native Hamburger, formerly a well-known business man of. Boston, where he married an American. lady. He has lived in Hamburg with his daughter and son-in-law for several years. Last Thursday his wife was in Berlin and his son-in-law in Boston when his daughter was taken very ill. He sat up all night to nurse her, and at 5 o’clock in the morning was stricken down with the dread malady. The physician ordered the immediate removal of the wife and child, and at 3 o’clock on Friday afternoon the old gentleman died raving in his last moments for someone of his loved ones to come to his bedside. The infection had been brought into his house by a charwoman from Hamm.

A wealthy Hamburg merchant, the pride of whose life was in three sturdy boys, aged respectively 7, 8 and 10 years, saw them all die on Sunday within five hours of one another.

A Babe Left Alone With Its Millions.

Two of the editors of the Hamburger Nachrichten died last week, and I was told of a child of 6 months who is the sole survivor of a father, mother and four brothers and sisters and will inherit millions. Driving with a well-known citizen of Hamburg yesterday he pointed out one of the most beautiful houses, with extensive grounds, on the Schwanenwick, whose lord and master had succumbed a few days before, he having refused to leave the city when his family fled, and laughed at their fears.

All this time the people from the infected districts come and go as they will in the public streets and public places. Funerals are ceaselessly passing through the city, and the improvised police ambulances are carrying patients through the most densely populated thoroughfares at all hours of the day and night to the Neues Allgemeines Krankenhaus, or hospital, in the suburb of Oppendorf, or to the Altes Allgemeines Krankenhaus, in the heart of the town.

Continual Reminders of the Scourge.

It is almost impossible to realise, without having experienced it, the depressing effect of these continual reminders of the presence of the disease and death. Turn from one street, where a funeral is passing and a wagonload of new coffins is on its way to the mortuary, and one meets perhaps two or three more hearses with attendant mourners, and an ambulance containing a hospital attendant and a dying woman wrapped in blankets. All these public funerals one meets in the better parts of the city, and they are aside from the daily quota of unfortunates who are carted away at night and buried in a long trench in the Potter’s field.

From morning until night these dreary processions are wending their way to the cemeteries, and from morning until night the hearses are hurriedly returning thence for new employment, and groups of “Leichenbetter,” or professional mourners, curiously clad in knee breeches, buckled shoes, white-ruffs and birettas, are hurrying from one place to another, as their services are required.

Undertakers Too Busy to Go to Bed.

The undertaker men are so worn out with long hours of work that it is no uncommon thing to see two or three of them asleep in a hearse returning from a burial. Those mourners who cannot afford the trappings and the state of woe for their dead, and yet will not let them be buried by cold municipality, engage all sorts of vehicles for the conveyance of the black biers to a final resting place for the remains of their beloved. I have seen coffins jolt by on  baggage wagons and butchers’ carts, with sobbing women clinging to the driver’s seat, and little children sitting stolidly behind wondering what it is all about.

On Sunday I witnessed a peculiarly pathetic sight. A carriage containing a very young husband and wife robed in black, she weeping bitterly on his shoulder, while the tiniest of silver-mounted coffins, covered with flowers, on the front seat, told the story of their grief.

Two subsidiary tragedies growing out the epidemic were reported on Tuesday. One was that of a carpenter who had lost his wife and three children and who blew out his brains, and the other that of widow of a well-to-do merchant, who succumbed Sunday. She drowned herself the Aussen-Alster.

There are 110 children who have been committed to one asylum alone, all orphaned by the cholera.

THE HAMBURGER’S DIET.

AT PRESENT IT IS ONE OF THE MOST ABSTEMIOUS KIND.

Nothing Eaten That Hasn’t Undergone 130 Degrees of Heat–Butter, Cheese and Fruit Dealers Doing No Business at All—Advice of Physicians In Case of Choleraic Attack–Nervousness the Surest Way to Bring on the Sickness.

The Hamburger’s diet at present is a careful one. The best motif is not to eat anything that has not undergone 130 heat, a temperature that is said to be fatal to the cholera bacilli. The consequence is that dealers in butter, cheese and green groceries are doing no business at all. Salads are forbidden and fruits are not to be considered at all. Everyone washes with water that has been boiled, and even then uses a 5 per cent solution of carbolic acid in it. The entire city reeks with disinfectants. In all the public buildings salts are strewn upon the stairways and halls and piled in the corners. The same is true of private offices and hotels, where waiters and pages are continually spraying themselves and the guests with various disinfectants. The street sprinklers emit an odor of carbolic acid, and when one goes into a restaurant a waiter brings him a bottle of sanitas to put into the water in which he washes his hands. Barbers advertise in their windows that their shaving water is disinfected, and at the door of the shops that are open are signs informing prospective customers that all sanitary precautions are observed within.

Medical Advice Given Free of Charge.

The newspapers publish daily the advice of eminent physicians as to the procedure to be taken in case of choleraic attack. The leading instructions generally are “not to be nervous.” The physicians say that nervousness about the disease is the surest way to bring it on, and point out many instances in which the malady has been thus acquired–advice which is doubtless very valuable to nervous people.

I was the first newspaper reporter to arrive in Hamburg after the outbreak of the plague, and the only other who visited the city was from the new London paper, The Morning, and he is an American. The London Times and Standard have correspondents in Hamburg, the former journal’s representative being the British Vice Consul there, but these two have been content to send the official figures of seizure and death, and to keep away from the infected districts.

It was not difficult to find out who, in the mind of most Hamburgers, is responsible for the epidemic that has already cost almost, if not quite, 5,000 lives. It is Dr. Krauss, Medical Inspector of the Board of Health. His friends say that he did not report the case of cholera which was reported to him by a sub-inspector on August 18 because he was unfortunate in his first test, in which he endeavored to discover if the bacilli were, those of Asiatic cholera, and it was the necessity of making a second test that prevented his reporting the case for five days. Others say that he paid no attention to the case when it was first reported, and that he is notoriously neglectful of his duties.

The Medical Inspector Has a Big Pull.

I was told that on the day that Prof. Koch and Dr. Roth came from Berlin to investigate the origin of cholera Dr. Krauss could not be found, and that six messengers who were sent out to search for him when it was learned of the prospective visit from Berlin were unable to find him. Motions have been made in the Board of Health for his removal, but he is said to possess a large purse, and will doubtless hold his position.

I learned something else that does not appear in the Hamburg newspapers. At the registry office of the Board of Health on Monday I was given an official return of the seizures and deaths from cholera. The total was then 6,124 cases and 2,676 deaths. The same night Director Cortes, of the Ohlsdorf Cemetery, gave me a list of the burials of cholera victims for the same period, which amount to 4,032, which is exclusive of those buried in other cemeteries, and of 100 or more which appeared in the death returns but had not yet been buried. I was told at the Registry office that the doctors were so busy caring for patients that they did not always have time to report every death.

A Visit to Hospitals and Morgues.

Through the courtesy of Acting United States Consul Charles H. Burke, The Dispatch reporter was yesterday invited by Dr. Sthamer, private secretary of Senator Hachmann, who is chief of police, to visit the two cholera hospitals, and the other municipal institutions for the control of the epidemic. Dr. Sthamer is a fine-looking, powerfully-built young man, with the scars of several Heidelburg duels upon his face.. He tells a story of meeting an American who introduced himself while Sthamer was a student at Heidelburg and asked to be permitted to witness some of the students duels. He granted this privilege and the American was present. A lady afterward pointed him out as “Mark Twain,” and Dr. Sthamer says that he read, a year or so afterward, “A Tramp Abroad,” particularly that part of it relating to Heidelburg, with a great deal of interest. Our first visit was to the mortuary on Borgtelder strasse, near the old general hospital. A vacant lot had been temporarily converted into a morgue, and a large wooden shed erected. As far as we could see in Borgfelder strasse long lines of mourning carriages stretched back on both sides of the street, relieved at long intervals by pallbearers, with their nodding plumes and sombre trappings. A throng of children gathered at the entrance of the mortuary, but they were as hushed and silent as their elders. Gloom was upon the locality.

Many Compelled to Wait for Hours.

This was the spot where the bodies of the better class of cholera victims were buried, those whose friends could afford carriages and professional mourners. So many funerals were in progress, however, that some, mourners were compelled to wait hours for an opportunity to bring their dead to the hearses.

A glance along this double line of mourning carriages gave some idea of the impartial manner in which the plague selects its victims from old and young. In one carriage four tearful children sat, evidently on their way to the burial of father or mother–or perhaps both. In another a young widow sat alone. In others fathers and mothers were waiting for the hearses to bring out the bodies of their children.

At least ten hearses were in the mortuary yard, and a score of men were handling the coffins, while group, of the professional mourners in their somber uniforms gathered about that particular corpse that they were paid to mourn, and directed its transportation to the hearse. In a shed were perhaps 20 bodies of men and women, all wound about in white disinfecting cloth and emitting the powerful odor of carbolic acid. Each corpse had a paper pinned to its wrapping, bearing a number which corresponded to the names that were registered by the mortuary clerks.

Terrible Mortality Among the Children.

Men were lifting these bodies into the coffins, others were screwing down the coffin lids, and still others were carrying the coffins to hearses under the direction of a chief of staff with the same regularity and industry that one witnesses in a well-regulated workshop. In the corner of the shed nearest the door were six little coffins ranged in a row, some with wreaths of flowers upon them. Each was decorated with a label which contained the name and age of the victim and name and address of its parents. The greatest age that had been reached by the former occupants of these small bodies was 4 years. On the tiniest coffin of all there was a mark drawn across the printed form in the place where the age should have been recorded.

This spot was gruesome enough, but it was cheerful compared with the mortuary where those victims who are buried by charity were prepared for their final resting place.

IN THE CHARNEL HOUSE.

OVER 400 HUMAN BODIES AT ONCE  PREPARED FOR BURIAL.

A Stack of Coffins All Around, Higher Than a Man’s Head–Half a Dozen Vans Being Loaded at a Time, the Drivers Chaffing and Laughing Unconcernedly–Some of the Bodies Contorted in All Sorts of Shapes–From Mortuary to Hospitals.

I visited the charnel house Monday with a member of the staff of the Hamburger Nachrichten. Here, in the edge of an old graveyard whose tombstones were falling down and whose graves were overgrown with weeds, were more than 400 human bodies in various stages of preparation for burial. On one side of an improvised road way was a stack of coffins higher than a man’s head, and at least 20 feet long, from which four workmen were loading a great van in preparation for a night trip to Ohlsdorf. Two or three other vans were waiting for a chance to load, and the drivers and workingmen were chaffing and laughing as if theirs was. a most ordinary and commonplace occupation.

The Most Grewsome Sight of All.

Further along, from a carpenter’s wagon, was being unloaded an installment of new coffins. But the most ghastly sight that I have witnessed in this city of horrors was at the other side of the road. Here, on the floor of a tumble-down shed, were laid the corpses, just as they had been brought from the hospitals after death, of 120 men, women and children. Most of these bodies were arranged in the coarse bed dress of the hospitals, but there were others in the tattered garments in which they had been brought from their homes when stricken down, showing how quickly the deadly malady had done its work.

These bodies were contorted in all sorts of shapes, just as death had left them. The body of one man who had died in a suit of underclothes, with his stockings on, had his knees drawn up almost to his chin, and as this circumstance caused him to take up more than his share of room on the floor of the shed, he had been laid sideways, and the bodies of two children were at his head and feet The body of a woman was bent back nearly; double, just as she died in an awful spasm, and others had their arms stretched above their heads as they had struggled before the vital spark left them.

Some of the Most Horrible Scenes.

Among these corpses, staring with their dead eyes open, worked a dozen men, straightening the rigid limbs into shape and wrapping them about like mummies in the disinfecting clothes in which they were to be buried. Each body was then fastened with heavy string to a narrow board reaching from head to feet, in order that it might remain in proper shape, and then, in a further shed, they were piled one above the other on racks until their coffins should be made ready. The comparison is a brutal one, but the racks with their enshrouded occupants reminded me of a packing house where slaughtered sheep were being prepared for transportation.

From the new mortuary we drove to the general hospital in Lohmullen strasse. I had visited this institution upon my arrival in Hamburg, and seen Dr. Yolasse, the head of the institution. He told me it was impossible for him to show me through the hospital, as it was absolutely forbidden, both because the physicians and attendants were so busy ministering to the dead and dying, and because a visit was attended by great risk to the visitors.

All Hope Abandoned by Many.

On this day, Monday, a crowd was gathered in the outer gate of the hospital, and one ambulance carriage after another was bringing in patients. I caught glimpses as these carriages passed of the terrified white faces of men and women who believed, as they drove under the arched portals, that they left hope behind. Many of these carriages were followed to the gate of the hospital by friends and relatives who had run miles to catch what might be, and probably would be, a last glimpse of the afflicted. These were stopped in all instances by a cordon of police on duty before the hospital, and before the great building were weeping women and children, mingling with the vulgar throng whom curiosity had drawn to the scene.

Inside the hospital, on the occasion of my first visit, I witnessed one of the pathetic scenes that are common enough in Hamburg just at present A little girl of 15 or 16, of the most pronounced type of German blonde beauty, with tears running down her cheeks, stood with a letter in her hand begging one of the attendants to take it in to her mother. The attendant, a big, coarse-looking fellow, refused gruffly.

A Message That Couldn’t Be Sent

While I was watching the scene one of the corps of physicians passed and said, sharply:

“Why don’t you take letter in?”

“Her mother is dead and was taken away last night,” whispered the attendant.

“Why don’t you tell the girl then?” queried the doctor, as he passed on.

But the attendant, for all his familiarity with suffering and bereavement, and for all his gruff manner and coarse features, had not the heart to tell the weeping child the truth, and when I left the hospital she was still waiting with the letter in her hand and great tears dropping down upon her calico gown.

There was no difficulty in getting into the old hospital under Dr. Sthamer’s auspices. He sent in his card and Dr. Yolasse at once came into the corridor and announced his willingness to show us the entire institution. He said he had refused permission to enter to newspaper correspondents ‘because one from a Vienna newspaper had published a report to the effect that cholera patients were dying so fast that their bodies were stacked up like cordwood in the hospital. Dr. Yolasse explained that since the cholera epidemic had broken out all the other patients had been removed from the institution except about five or ten who were too ill to bear transportation. The hospital was, however, soon full, and it became necessary to prepare new accommodations, and as a result, six barracks, capable of accommodating from 20 to 30 patients each, were erected in the hospital yards. These were all filled, there being nearly 1,200 cholera patients under treatment in that one place. No new cases were being brought in that day, all further patients being carried to the Neues Krankenhaus in Oppendorf.

COFFINS IN HUGE PILES.

PITIFUL SIGHTS ON ALL SIDES WITHIN THE BARRACKS.

A Double Row of Beds, All Occupied by Patients Suffering Terrible Tortures–Dead and Dying All Around—Hearses by the Half Dozen Waiting to Carry the Victims Away–A Post Mortem Examination of Each Body Held by the Physicians–Identification of the Corpses.

Dr. Yolasse has 43 physicians under him on his medical staff, and 258 nurses and attendants. As we passed in the hospital yard two hearses drove in, and I noticed a great pile of coffins behind the barracks. “Yes,” said Dr. Yolasse, “there are a few being buried from here, but only 20 or 30 a day.”‘ It was a pitiful sight that met our eyes as we entered the first barrack. On a double row of beds on either side of the room lay women in all stages of disease and death. The occupant of the bed nearest the door had drawn her feet up so that they almost touched the small of her back. Her face was almost black, and her eyes were turned so that only the whites could be seen. “She is not suffering,” said Dr. Yolasse. “She is past it. She is dying–all but dead.”

Sorrowful Sights on Every Hand.

Next to the dying woman’s couch was that of a rather pretty young girl, with black eyes and hair, who watched her neighbor’s death struggles with apathy, and took no notice of the presence of strangers. Farther down the room, a Sister of Charity bent over the bed of a dying woman, and at the furthest end two stout nurses were lifting a corpse from a bed to a stretcher, and they presently passed us carrying it out.

Each bed contained a patient, some of them writhing and moaning, others tossing restlessly, and still others seeming to rest quietly. We looked in at the doors of the other barracks, where the scene was much the same–dead and dying men and women and busy nurses and doctors.

“Just come down to the end of the garden,” said Dr. Yolasse, “and I will show you the dissecting room. You see, we make a post mortem examination of each body to see if it is real cholera that they die of.”

We passed a number of coffins on the way to the end of the garden, some with numbered lids screwed down, others with the lids half off, revealing naked bodies. Within, four or five hearses were waiting under the shadow of the trees, and a number of men and women were attempting to identify friends and relatives in the corpses that were being continually brought from the hospital. The dissecting room remains an unpleasant memory in my mind. Two or three physicians were at work there.

Peculiar Exemption of the Nurses.

Dr. Yolasse told me that out of his staff of physicians, nurses and attendants who were continually at work among the cholera patients, only two had caught the disease, and only one of those had died, while done of the noncholeraic patients who were obliged to remain in the hospital after the cholera patients were brought there had been attacked by the malady.

From the old hospital Dr. Sthamer next took me to the new hospital, in the beautiful suburb of Oppendorf. This is said to be the finest hospital in Germany. It contains 87 separate bedrooms, capable of accommodating from 30 to 40 patients each. Enough of these were in use to contain 1,100 cholera patients, the whole institution being in charge of Prof. Rumpf. Here new patients were constantly arriving in the police ambulances, at least 20 being brought in during the two hours that we remained in the place. Prof. Rumpf showed us everything with the utmost readiness.

This hospital, like the old Krankenhaus we had just left, was scrupulously clean and run on a perfect system. We looked into several of the cholera wards. In one there were several small children, one being convalescent and a great favorite of the physicians.

Prof. Rumpf works with the assistance of 40 doctors and 240 nurses and attendants. He believes that the epidemic is abating.

TREATMENT OF CHOLERA.

SALT WATER INJECTED IN VEINS OF THE FOREARM.

Nobody Succumbs to the Disease While an Attendant at Hospital or Cemetery–Great Expense for a Steamship Company–The Utmost Poverty and Destitution in the Worst Parts of Town–What a Berlin Correspondent Saw.

I asked both Prof. Rumpf and the doctor we had just left what their treatment for cholera was. Both seemed disinclined to discuss the question generally, but each had the same method of reviving patients brought in in a comatose condition. This was to open a vein in the patient’s forearm and inject a solution of one-half one per cent of salt.

Prof. Rumpf said that of all his staff of physicians and nurses, not one had been seized with cholera. In the Ohlsdorf cemetery, where 260 men are digging and filling the graves of cholera patients day and night, only one has succumbed to the disease, and of the hundreds of men who are employed taking cholera patients to the hospitals in ambulances and removing infected clothing and bedding from the houses, not one has, so far as reported, acquired the malady.

After our visit to the new hospital we drove to Sandthor Quai, and took the police boat across the Elbe to Amerika Quai, where the barracks of the Hamburg-American Packet Company are situated. Here 600 Russian emigrants were awaiting the removal of the quarantine restrictions to on to America in much more comfortable quarters, probably, than the aristocratic prisoners of the Normannia in New York bay.

Where the Cholera Epidemic Started.

There are here commodious houses, a large yard, fine bathtubs and closets under the constant inspection of the police. It is from these barracks, however, Prof. Koch declares that the cholera epidemic started. He thinks that, as all water the emigrants there used, together with the excreta, were poured into the at this point without being disinfected, the cholera originated with them.

Dr. Stahmer and Acting Consul Burke think that the disease was brought into Hamburg from Havre. However that be, there are no cases of sickness among 600 Russians on Amerika Quai.

One woman, who seemed very proud be pointed out, had just been sent from the old hospital in Hamburg. She supposed to have the disease, but after days under surveillance was sent back as healthy person. All these emigrants are compelled to bathe at least once a week, and all seemed perfectly healthy during our visit yesterday.

A Steamship Company Does Its Duty.

Dr. Sthamer and Acting Consul Burke both speak in the highest terms of the conduct of the Hamburg-American Packet Company in the present circumstances. They are co-operating with the authorities in every respect in order to put (town plague. The 600 emigrants now in quarantine are fed and quartered at the expense the company and will be until the American quarantine is removed. I have visited the infected districts of Hamburg–Steinstrasse and Spitalerstrasse. These streets are along the quays of the Elbe and Horn and Hammersmask here. The utmost destitution and misery prevails, and the residents live in constant dread of the prevailing terror. The houses are wretched abodes in alleys that run into and abut upon alleys, and an odor of disease is in the air.

A correspondent of a Berlin paper says that he has, in Steinstrasse, seen children eating oats that they had picked out street refuse in his presence, and feasting upon vegetable refuse they found in streets. I saw nothing of this.

One Death for Every Thirty Persons.

The same correspondent says that he visited a house, the door of which was so low that he had to stoop to get in, and stairs of which were composed of a ladder, with a rope for balusters. Up on this ladder he professes to have found a tiny room in which he could not stand upright, where lived, slept, and worked a shoemaker, his wife, his grown-up daughter, and five younger children. I could not find this house.

Nevertheless, nearly 3,000 people have died from cholera from Steinstrasse alone, a percentage of 1 in 30 of the population.

It is a pitiful thing to see these poor people gathered in groups in their filth, waiting in a pathetic misery until an unseen enemy shall clutch at their vitals. Some of these courts are in the real valley of the shadow of death. The visitor feels under a pall. There is a horror in the air, for no one can be sure that the next inhalation of the breath of life may not contain the germ of death.

The police ambulances are never away far from the street, and no man knows whether it will be himself or his neighbor who will next be borne to the hospital, and thence to a grave in a trench in Potter’s field.

There is little doubt, however, that the plague is abating. The cool weather of the last few days has done more to bring this about than anything else, and unless the disease should obtain some new foothold where it has not already decreased the population, Hamburg may soon regain her former place in European civilization.

Pittsburgh [PA] Dispatch 9 September 1892: p. 1

 

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead. And visit her newest blog The Victorian Book of the Dead.

The Plague Shawl: 1878

Did the gift of a shawl bring the plague to Russia?
Did the gift of a shawl bring the plague to Russia?

Mrs Daffodil must once again beg the indulgence of her readers. Something has gone wrong with the pneumatic tubes that deliver Mrs Daffodil’s work to the public, so she has asked that scribbling person over at the Haunted Ohio blog for the loan of a post to fill the gap. Here, then, without further ado, is “The Plague Shawl.”

Today’s post returns to one of my favorite themes: deadly clothing. We have covered the perils of poisoned stockings and noxious hairpieces. The history of disease is filled with cases of contagion spread by textiles:

In 1665 at Eyam, in Derbyshire, a tailor received a flea-infested shipment of cloth from London. He was dead of the plague within a week. Heroically, the villagers voluntarily quarantined themselves to keep the disease from spreading—at a fearful cost: at least half of Eyam’s inhabitants died.

At Fort Pitt, in 1763, two Native American chiefs were given blankets and a handkerchief from smallpox victims, possibly causing an outbreak of the disease and extensive casualties among the Indians.

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s 1838 story, “Lady Eleanore’s Mantle” tells of a richly embroidered cloak believed to have brought the smallpox to Boston. The story is fiction, but Hawthorne’s readers’ belief in an infected cloak causing an epidemic was not.

In 1872, Ipswich was hit by an outbreak of smallpox, blamed again on textile infection:

During Christmas week two imported cases occurred…a young man brought a bundle of infected linen with him from London, and had it washed in Ipswich. Twelve days after, the servant who washed the linen showed symptoms of small-pox. In another case, a woman, who had been at Highgate Hospital, brought with her a shawl which she had worn during convalescence, but had not been disinfected; and in fourteen days her sister, who washed the shawl, was attacked, and a boy also in a house to which the sister went before the rash appeared upon her. This case might also have been caused by the infected shawl. The disease shortly afterwards broke out in Harwich and was very fatal, as 24 per cent. of the cases admitted died in the hospital. The Sanitary Record, Vol. 8, 1878

In a very recent case, in September of 2012, a young girl contracted the plague from her sweatshirt which had been laid by a decomposing (and flea-ridden) squirrel.

Then there is this story from 1895 illustrating the improbably long shelf-life of smallpox:

TENACITY OF GERMS

How an Old Lady and Her Little Shawl Carried Death With Them.

The tenacity and virility of smallpox germs are to the medical fraternity one of the wonders of contagion, and were never made apparent so startlingly as a few years ago in the little village of Hector, this state, says the New York Sun. This is an isolated place, being at the time of the smallpox epidemic there twenty miles from any railroad, and its people rarely traveled far from home, and few strangers were visitors there. Early in the fall smallpox broke out in the village. The disease was not known to be anywhere in the vicinity. How it happened to appear there was a mystery that remained unsolved for months, but was at last cleared up through the investigation and inquiry of Dr. Purdy of Elmira.

Dr. Purdy learned that one day in the winter preceding the breaking out of smallpox in Hector a passenger on an Erie railway train was taken violently ill just after leaving Salamanca, and a physician who was on board the train discovered that the passenger had the smallpox. When this became known the other passengers in the car hurriedly left it for another one. The car containing the smallpox victim was placed on a siding when the train reached Hornellsville, where it was quarantined.

Among the passengers who left the car when the case was made known was an old lady who had a ticket for Elmira. Her seat had been the one behind the one where the man with the small-pox sat. She had with her a small shoulder shawl, which had hung on the back of the seat ahead of her. When she left the train at Elmira she placed the shawl in her hand satchel. At Elmira she took a Northern Central train for Watkins, the nearest station to Hector, to which place she was going on a visit to her son’s family. She remained there until the following fall when she was driven by her son to visit another son some miles distant. The day was extremely cold, and her son’s ears being in danger of freezing she took the shoulder shawl from her satchel, where it had been ever since she put it away on leaving the Erie train at Elmira the previous winter, and wrapped it about his head.

A few days after the son returned home to Hector he became violently ill. Before it was known what his ailment was he was visited by various neighbors. Then his disease was pronounced smallpox, and it was such a malignant case that he died within a few days. The disease became epidemic and was not eradicated until the following summer. Every family in the village and immediate vicinity lost at least one member by the disease. That the first case originated from the germs collected by the shawl in the railroad car near Salamanca months before there can be no doubt. Idaho Register [Idaho Falls, ID] 15 February 1895: p. 6

I say “improbably long shelf-life” of smallpox, but the virus is capable of prolonged survival. Excavators in the crypt of Christ Church, Spitalfields, 1984-86, for example, took special precautions, not only against the lead dust from the coffins, but against potentially viable smallpox from dead victims of the disease buried there. And in 2011, an 1860s smallpox scab was seized by the CDC from an exhibit at the Virginia Historical Society.

In Russia, the Plague of 1878-79 was reported to have had its origins in a lethal sweetheart’s souvenir.

A COSSACK FROM THE WAR Brings to His Lady Love

A Costly Shawl Which She Wore Two Days,

Then Sickened and Died, and in this

Lies the Origin of the Present Russian Plague.

London, Feb. 3. The origin of the plague in Russia is thus given: A Cossack, returning from the war to Wetlisuka, brought his lady love a shawl which she wore two days and then sickened with all the symptoms of the plague and died. The following four days other members of her family died. The disease spread rapidly, the local authorities not paying any attention to it till half the inhabitants had died and the remainder were unable to bury them. Then, when the epidemic had assumed serious dimensions energetic means were taken for preventing its spreading, and strict quarantines were established: firstly in towns and villages, shutting off streets where the plague reigns from the rest of the place and secondly by surrounding the villages with troops, so that nobody is allowed to pass in or out.

The panic in Russia is almost incredible. Every class and station in life have petitioned for the entire cessation of all intercourse even postal communication between the rest of Russia and the Volga. Letters from Astrachan and Zaritzin are not received by persons to whom they are addressed. Some people even refuse to take money, fearing the germ of infection might be communicated through it. It is almost impossible to describe the terror which has taken possession of the people.

The Russian Sanitary Commission has proposed to shut off the Volga line from all intercourse with Western Russia and permit communication only under quarantine. Russian railway cars are not admitted to German territory. The export of grain from Poland will suffered severely from this restriction. The Roumanian government are discussing the expediency of prohibiting the transit of Russian provisions sent to victual the Balkan army.

(This appears to be a paraphrase of a New York Times article of 2 February 1879. It appeared in the Plain Dealer [Cleveland, OH] 3 February 1879: p. 1)

The Russian plague caused panic throughout Europe, which feared the spread of an epidemic on the scale of the Black Death. The 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica observed that the Russian wave of the disease killed about 362 victims out of a population of about 1700.

It is, of course, impossible to tell if the story of the deadly shawl is more than a fanciful legend, although the story is repeated in a scholarly article: “The Russian Plague of 1878-79,” Hans Heilbronner, Slavic Review, Vol. 21, No. 1 (Mar., 1962), pp. 89-112 in the note on pp. 91-92.

A story was bandied about in 1879 that a Cossack, returning to Vetlianka from Turkish Armenia, brought a scarf to his fiancée as a present. She supposedly wore it for a few days, then developed fearful symptoms of an undiagnosed nature, and died within a few days. The members of her family contracted the same disease and so did some neighbors. Refugees from the village reportedly carried the affliction to other Volga towns and villages.

Strangely, the story is also the subject of a poem by Ohio poet Sarah Piatt

THE STORY OF A SHAWL

[1879.]

My child, is it so strange, indeed,

This tale of the Plague in the East, you read?

This tale of how a soldier found

A gleaming shawl of silk, close-wound,

(And stained, perhaps, with two-fold red)

About a dead man’s careless head

He took the treasure on his breast

To one he loved. We know the rest.

If Russia shudders near and far,

From peasant’s hut to throne of Czar

If Germany bids an armed guard

By sun and moon keep watch and ward

Along her line, that they who fly

From death, ah me ! shall surely die.

This trouble for the world was all

Wrapped in that soldier’s sweetheart’s shawl.

Pray God no other lovers bring

Some gift as dread in rose or ring.

Poems, Vol. II, Sarah Piatt (London: Longmans, Green and Co.) 1894

If you have an interest in the historical aspects of Russian shawl production, please see http://digitalcommons.unl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1563&context=tsaconf for “Luxury Textiles from Feudal Workshops: 19th Century Russian Tapestry-Woven Shawls” by Arlene C. Cooper of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead.

The Twelve Deaths of Christmas

skeleton with Santa Mask Christian Century 1921.JPG

It’s that hap-hapless-est time of the year! which means that it is time for another compendium of vintage fatalities peculiar to the holidays.  Today, let’s sing of the Twelve Deaths of Christmas.

You better watch out;

you better not cry;

I’m making a list

Of how people die…

  1. Death by Pre-holiday Excitement

Remember those days when you simply couldn’t wait for Santa?  You didn’t suffer the fate of these children or you wouldn’t be reading this.

Curiosity is Fatal

Chicago, Ill., Dec. 24. Unable to wait until tonight little Tony Fragino, 5 years old, lifted the lid in the kitchen stove to see if Santy was starting down the chimney. A spark fell on his clothes. He burned to death.

Omaha [NE] World Herald 25 December 1912: p. 7

The eight-year-old daughter of a laborer named Garth, in Blackburn, Lancashire, died from severe burns received at Christmas. The mother found her daughter in flames in a bedroom, and on questioning her, the little one replied, “Oh, mamma, I’ve been putting my hand up the chimney for Father Christmas.”

Poverty Bay Herald, 14 February 1896: p. 2

2. Death by Fear of Father Christmas

Last year a photo went the rounds of social media showing a distressed-looking young child signing “HELP ME” as he sat on Santa’s lap. This lad was sadly unable to articulate his Santa-phobia.

CHILD’S STRANGE FEAR

FLEES FROM SANTA CLAUS

KILLED BY MOTOR-CAR.

The strange fear of a child of Father Christmas was described at the Melbourne morgue on the last day of the sad Old Year, when the city Coroner, Mr. D. Grant; held an inquest into the death of Jack Plummer, aged four years, of Raleigh street, Northcote, Melbourne. Robert Leslie Alexander Blower, tanner, of Raleigh street, Northcote, said that about half-past 8 o’clock on the evening of 24th December he was driving his motor-car behind another car along High street, Northcote, near its intersection with Martin street. Suddenly a child ran from the footpath in front of his car and was struck by the front mudguard. Witness took the child to a doctor and then to the Children’s Hospital, where he died soon after. Stanley R. R. Plummer, father of the dead boy, said that he was present when the accident happened. A man dressed as Father Christmas was near by, and a child took Jack Plummer by the hand and tried to lead him to Father Christmas. Jack was always afraid of Father Christmas, and broke away from his friend and ran madly across the road. Witness could not say why the child feared Father Christmas, but he was of a nervous temperament.

Evening Post, 9 January 1931: p. 9

3. Death by Tree

As mentioned above, I wrote a post on deadly Christmas trees. This is a favorite killer conifer.

Killed by a Christmas Tree.

New York, Feb. 22. William W. Babbington, a bookkeeper, decorated a tree Christmas eve, assisted by his wife. Both were slightly pricked by pine needles. Both developed felons and later blood poisoning. Babbington died in St. John’s hospital, Long Island City, on Monday.

Mrs. Babbington, who is to undergo two operations, one for blood poisoning and another for tumor, is awaiting her husband’s funeral before going to the hospital.

The Salina [KS] Evening Journal 22 February 1909: p. 5

To be Relentlessly Informative, a felon is a painful abscess of the deep tissues of the palmar surface of the fingertip that is typically caused by infection of a bacterium.  This seems an odd sort of injury from a tree and it is possible that something else caused the blood-poisoning.  Or perhaps the trees were sprayed with some arsenical green solution to keep them fresh-looking?

Tragically, a more typical report from the era of clip-on candles was this one:

BURNING CHRISTMAS TREE IS BABE’S PYRE

Trying to Light Candles Child Sets Itself Ablaze

New York, Dec. 29. Three-year-old Percival Dolan was burned to death this afternoon, his clothes having been set afire by a blazing Christmas tree at his home. The child’s mother left him locked alone in her rooms. A tenant heard the child scream and saw smoke coming from the rooms.

She forced the door and found the boy enveloped in flames and rolling in agony on the floor. The mother by this time had been attracted by the screams. The women threw a blanket over the child, extinguishing the flames. The boy was carried to a hospital, where he died within two hours. The boy had set the tree afire while trying to light the candles.

Philadelphia [PA] Inquirer 30 December 1900: p. 16

4. Death by Christmas Ornament

Victorian holiday décor was often made from toxic materials like lead and asbestos, but this Christmas bauble was designed to kill.

Christmas Tree Bobble [sic]

A Deadly Booby Trap.

Pittsburgh, Dec. 23 What looked like a little copper tube with wires attached when 14-year-old Ronald Berich hung it on his Christmas tree, turned out to be a detonator which exploded with savage force critically injuring the youth.

The blast blew off thumbs and forefingers on both hands and inflicted serious internal injuries. The boy’s father, Clarence, was only slightly injured. The elder Berich said the device had been knocking about the house for years and that no one knew what it was.

Atchison [KS] Daily Globe 23 December 1946: p. 1

5. Death by Holiday Shopping

Every year we hear reports of fisticuffs over sale goods, stampedes, and sometimes even deaths during the Christmas shopping rush. It was ever thus.

CHRISTMAS RUSH WAS FATAL
Floorwalker in Crowded Store Accidentally Killed in Scuffle With Shopper

Omaha, Nebraska. David Stettsy, floorwalker at the store of J.G. McCrorey & Co., was almost instantly killed in the presence of a throng of Christmas shoppers at 6 o’clock. The killing was done in a scuffle with a shopper and is believed by the police to have been the result of an accident.

Two young men, Ed McGrath and F.J. Riley, were shopping in the store, and McGrath accidentally knocked some goods from the counter. Stettsy seized him by the arm. A brief scuffle ensued, and Stettsy was thrown to the floor. He failed to rise, and bystanders who rushed to his assistance found that he was dead. His neck was broken. McGrath was taken into custody.

Morgan County Republican [Versailles MO] 28 December 1911: p. 7

6.  Death by Inadequate Gifts

Then there is the despondency that comes from disappointing a loved one at the holidays.

NOTHING FOR HIS SWEETHEART

Therefore This Young Man Deliberately Hanged Himself.

Charles Schellenberg, thirty-seven years old, a cabinet-maker, committed suicide in his lodging room, No. 641 East Fifth street, yesterday. He had been out of work and was despondent; besides, he was engaged to be married and had promised to buy his sweetheart a Christmas present. He got work two or three days ago but found he would not get paid in time to purchase the present.

Yesterday morning his boarding-mistress called him in time to go to his work, but he said he would not go out. She was arranging bedclothes in the adjoining room during the afternoon, and, glancing through the door cracks, she saw the figure of a man in Schellenberg’s room. She though he had gone out, and imagined the figure to be that of a burglar. She ran downstairs and told two boarders that there was a burglar in the house. They ran upstairs, burst open the door and found Schellenberg hanging to a rope which was thrown over a poker laid on two shelves. The ceiling of the room was so low that the suicide had to draw up his legs so as to hang himself. He had been dead two hours.

The Evening World [New York NY] 25 December 1889: p. 4

7. Death by Too Much Holiday Company

For some unfortunates, the thought of entertaining at the holidays was simply unbearable.

HERE’S A WARNING

Denver, Col. Dec. 23 Wives who would not be Christmas widows, heed the warning in the act of Kenneth K. Kane, a railway mail clerk. Do not invite all your relatives for Christmas dinner.

“I want to get along with everybody, and I want everybody to like me. But it makes me mighty sore when I think of the big crowd my wife has invited to our house for Christmas dinner,” wailed Kane.

He then arranged all the Christmas gifts he had received in the shape of a coffin, lay down inside the casket of gifts and put a bullet through his brain. He died instantly.

The Day Book [Chicago IL] 23 December 1912: p 21

Other accounts say that Mr. Kane was found gripping a letter from his mother-in-law, announcing her intention of visiting and that the packages next to his body were the gifts he had purchased for the family.  A neighbor had heard him complain, “I don’t see why we can’t have this Christmas to ourselves.”

8. Death by Fruitcake

Yes, I know—if you are not a fruitcake aficionado, even eating the stuff is a kind of a death, but that is not the issue. The roster of persons poisoned by holiday fruitcake would fill a whole series of posts—that is because (and don’t try this at home) arsenical insecticides look so very much like flour.

Poisoned Christmas Cake Fatal For Five

Newport, Ark., Dec. 26

Whether poison was used accidentally in a Christmas cake that brought death to five persons was being investigated today by authorities.

Mr. and Mrs. Walter Ballew and three of their sons, ranging in age from 15 to 23, died of poisoning as the result of eating the cake. Mrs. Ballew baked the cake early last week for her Christmas dinner. After one of the smaller cakes was served for dinner Thursday, members of the family became ill, and died later.

Sheriff A.C. Albright said he learned Ballew, a farmer, used arsenic last summer for poisoning of insects on cotton. Eight pounds of the poison were found in a barrel in the Ballew attic. The officer is investigating to determine whether Mrs. Ballew used some of the arsenic in the cake mixture by mistake or if someone had placed the poison in the flour intentionally.

Bellingham [WA] Herald 26 1932: p. 10

I can’t resist adding this incident, which sounds like something written by Edward Gorey, even though technically there were no fatalities.

Ate Poisoned Fruit Cake

Terrell, Tex., May 7. Eighteen patients and two attendants of the North Texas Insane Asylum were poisoned yesterday by eating fruit cake. The victims were attacked with vomiting and violent passages from the bowels, accompanied by deathly sickness. All the physicians were brought into service and the victims purged. The latter are now thought to be out of danger. The cake was distributed by Miss Bertie White, a kleptomaniac, but no suspicion rests upon her. The poison is thought to have been contained in the ingredients.

St Louis [MO] Republic 8 May 1892: p. 24

9. Death in a Santa Suit

Those jolly old elves of the past took their lives in their hands. Scores, if not hundreds of Santa-impersonators went up in flames in their cotton beards and suits. You will note the casual use of “another” in the sub-head.

SANTA BURNED ALIVE
Another of Him Reported Fatally Burned

Coshocton, O., Dec. 26. Having impersonated Santa Claus for the benefit of a number of children near his home at Tunnell Hill, George Reed, aged 22, was burned so badly he cannot recover. After the celebration Reed went to his room and in lighting a lamp ignited the long cotton whiskers he wore for the disguise.

Rockford [IL] Republic 27 December 1905: p. 2

Another hazard was the anonymity of the Santa Claus suit.

SANTA CLAUS KILLED

Mistaken for a Burglar at Jackson, Miss.

Jackson, Miss., December 25. Charles R. Young tonight shot and killed his uncle, Prof. Lawrence Saunders, mistaking him for a burglar. Prof. Saunders, who for many years has been teacher in the State Deaf and Dumb Institute, was disguised as Santa Claus, and visiting his sister’s home, knocked for admittance. Young asked who was at the door, and receiving no reply, he fired the ball passing through the door and killing Saunders instantly. Prof. Saunders is a brother of World’s Fair Commissioner Saunders, from Mississippi, and is well known throughout the entire country.

Arkansas Gazette [Little Rock, AR] 26 December 1895: p .6

10. Death by Christmas Card

Peril even lurked in the holiday post….

DEADLY CHRISTMAS CARD.

(Special to Herald.)

DUNEDIN. this day The Health Officer states that a case of diphtheria in Dunedin has been tracked almost with certainty to infection carried by a Christmas card sent from a locality in Invercargill where the disease is prevailing. There are at present a considerable number of cases of diphtheria reported from a comparatively small area in that town.

Poverty Bay Herald, 4 January 1905: p. 2

11. Death by Holiday Fun

So many holiday amusements of the past sound like introductions for the winners of the Darwin Awards…

CHRISTMAS AMUSEMENT,

Which Proved a Very Serious Matter to John McClelland’s Family.

Jeffersonville, Ind., Dec. 26. Last night John McClelland, an employe of the car works, went to his home, and, in order to amuse his wife and children, fired off a lot of shooting crackers. Not satisfied with this he procured a pound of powder and put it into three ale bottles and fastened the bottles up tightly, after he had inserted a fuse to each bottle.

He attempted to fire them off in his yard, but, being unsuccessful, took them into the house and set them upon a table where his wife and baby and a little girl named Berry were sitting, and Mrs. McClelland desired to fire off a shooting cracker, and in order to get a light removed the chimney from a coal oil lamp on the table.

The firecracker went off suddenly and the lamp exploded. The burning oil was communicated to the infernal machines in the three bottles and all three went off with a terrible effect, scattering glass all over the room. The oil set fire to the house and the clothing of the three unfortunate people, Mr. and Mrs. McClelland and Miss Berry.

McClelland succeeded in extinguishing the fire, but not, however, until he was severely burned.  His wife was also dangerously burned about the head and face. Mrs. McClelland’s clothing was burned from her body. The powder and glass from the bottles did terrible work. Miss Berry was probably fatally injured by a piece striking her in the side. She was also cut and burned in several places. The explosion tore out window panes, and pieces of bottles were found fastened in nearly every part of the house.

Cincinnati [OH] Daily Gazette 27 December 1881: p. 2

12. Death by Christmas Presents

By far the most common category of Christmas gift casualties arose from “toy” guns–either via gunshot wounds or something like tetanus caused by wadding shot into the skin. “You’ll shoot your eye out,” was no idle threat.

DEATH FROM LOCKJAW

Walter Bejano Dies from Effects of Toy Pistol Shot

Walter Bejano, the 9-year-old son of J. J. Bejano, 234 South Ervay street, died at the home of his parents yesterday morning as the result of a wound from a toy pistol. On Christmas night the little fellow shot himself in the hand with the dangerous toy, the wad almost piercing the left hand, its results causing his death.

Dallas [TX] Morning News 2 January 1904: p. 3

The second tragedy was the loss of an eye to a 5 year old boy who paid an unexpected visit to the decorated Christmas tree and found an air rifle intended for him on the morrow.  It is hard to imagine the carelessness that would allow a child of that age to have such a dangerous toy, to say nothing of loading it beforehand.

Springfield [MA] Union 12 January 1914: p. 17

‘SHOOT ME JUST FOR FUN, BRUDDER’

Seven-Year-Old Lad Kills His Younger Brother With Christmas Rifle.

Colorado Springs, Colo., Dec. 26. “Shoot me, brudder, just for fun,” said 5-year-old Henry Johnson, as he lay on a sick bed at his home here yesterday afternoon, to his 7-year-old brother, Clarence, who had been given a 22-caliber target rifle for a Christmas present. Henry had been too ill to be out of bed to celebrate the day, but he watched his brother playing with the new and dangerous toy with all a boy’s deep interest he could summon.

Clarence playfully pointed the weapon at Henry’s breast and pulled the trigger. The bullet entered the sick boy’s body and the lad died an hour later. Clarence is heartbroken and his parents are prostrated at the sad and tragic ending of a day that began with so much joy, happiness and hope in the little home. Christian Johnson, the father of the boys, is a Colorado Midland section foreman.

Denver [CO] Post 26 December 1907: p. 4

But even innocent-looking presents could be lethal:

New York. Very proud of a football he had won in a Christmas raffle, Richard Batterby, ten years old, of Jersey City, was made captain of a football team and was killed in the first rush with the new ball.

A crowd of enthusiastic boys met in a vacant lot at Sixteenth and Grove streets. Richard was the liveliest of them all.

“All together, now! Show them what we can do!” he shouted, when the team was lined up.
There was a rush, and Richard went down under the great pile of struggling boys. Then all except Richard got up for the next play. He lay still, clinging tightly to the ball. His playmates rolled him over and began to scream when they saw his pale face.

A doctor hurried to the scene. He made a short examination, and then said the boy was dead.

Albuquerque [NM] Evening Citizen 1 January 1907: p. 2

There are other reports of children with new skates or sleds who slid under trams, and a very sad story of an infant with a new Christmas doll. The doll fell into a bucket of water; the child drowned trying to reach it.

I’ve written before about poisoned stockings. Mordants and dyes often contained dangerous poisons like picric acid and arsenic. Most of the time the wearer merely sickened; this is one of the few reported fatalities.

YULE STOCKINGS FATAL

Christmas Gift Causes Blood Infection, Killing Woman

Dell Rapids, Jan. 9 A new pair of highly colored “Christmas stockings” worn by Mrs. O. Caldwell of Dell Rapids caused blood infection which resulted in her death.

Aberdeen [SD] American 9 January 1917: p. 7

And, finally, be careful what you wish for.

DIED OF JOY

A Lad Overcome on Receiving His Christmas Present

South Bend, Ind., Dec. 27 Paul Gearhart, 14, was so delighted at receiving a pair of skates that he uttered a cry of joy and fell to the floor dead from heart failure.

Cincinnati [OH] Post 27 December 1892: p. 4

 

Death sees you when you’re sleeping.

He knows your home floor plan.

He knows when you’ve been bad or good

So evade him if you can….

 

Other deaths of Christmas?  chriswoodyard8 AT gmail.com

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the DeadThe Ghost Wore BlackThe Headless HorrorThe Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead. And visit her new blog at The Victorian Book of the Dead.

Swallowed a Fly: Death by Insect

Swallowed a Fly: Death by Insect
Swallowed a Fly: Death by Insect

The days are filled with the plague-rattle clamor of cicadas. Dying locusts buzz and smear underfoot on the sidewalk, raising visions of scorpion-tailed locusts swarming out of the Pit of the Book of Revelation. It is an evil season….

What with locust resentment, the Zika virus, dive-bombing stink-bugs, and the fact that I am a tick-magnet, I am not an admirer of the Insect Kingdom.  Pocket your killing jars, or perhaps don your beekeeping coveralls and veils—today we’ll be pinning down some cases of Death by Insect.

Spider bites, bee-stings, and lethal centipedes may be taken as read, as may deaths from insect-vectored disease. I am more interested in what you might call the personal touch: deaths directly caused by insects with undeservedly benign reputations.

Flies, however, have long been regarded with suspicion in the medical community. One popular slogan stated, “Every fly is a messenger for the Angel of Death.” [Wilkes-Barre [PA] Times-Leader 24 April 1911]

The zoöphagic William Buckland is remembered for having eaten blue-bottle flies; he said that he found it difficult to decide which was the nastier dish: mole or fly. Buckland seems to have suffered no ill-effects, unlike the old woman of the whimsical rhyme, and these unfortunates:

Swallowed a Fly

St. Louis, Sept. 7. Eugene Dixon swallowed a fly Tuesday afternoon and died yesterday. He was playing in the kitchen and was laughing heartily at some incident which had happened when he swallowed the fly. About an hour afterwards he became so ill that it was necessary to call a physician. Notwithstanding the efforts of the medical attendant the child grew worse very rapidly and died in terrible agony. Worcester [MA] Daily Spy 8 September 1894: p. 3

Is there an explanation or did some juvenile illness coincide with the swallowed fly? Perhaps this story holds the answer:

FLY PAPER KILLS A MAN BY PROXY.

Daniel Miller, of Arcola, Swallows a Poisoned Insect and Dies.

Arcola, Ill., Sept. 21. The most singular case of poisoning that has ever occurred in this section happened last night. Dan Miller, aged 60, was eating supper, and accidentally swallowed a fly that had been on fly paper. Miller lived about three hours. Daily Inter Ocean [Chicago, IL] 22 September 1895: p. 5

Arsenic, commonly found in fly papers might explain the child’s “terrible agony.”

The Daily Mail delights in gruesome stories about the immense and disgustingly mobile creatures infesting human ears, eyes, and noses. Such things might have occurred even more frequently in the past when window-screens were less common and children spent more time out of doors.

KILLED BY A BEETLE IN HIS EAR

Atlantic City, Dec. 1 After suffering for months from headaches and acute pains in the head, Somers Braddock, 9 years old, did at the home of his parents here. Doctors had treated him and had failed to locate an apparent cause for his illness. An autopsy was performed and a dead beetle was found in one of the boy’s ears. Lexington [KY] Herald 2 December 1907: p. 8

Singular Death.

A labourer died on one of the flat boats on the Levee at New Orleans on the 8th, of a disease which baffled his physician. A post mortem examination took place, and upon examining his brain, it was discovered that an insect of about an inch long, known by the name of a centipede or a thousand legs, had crawled into his ear, causing thereby an excruciating death. Maine Cultivator and Hallowell Gazette [Hallowell, ME] 24 July 1841: p. 2

We must question whether this next dire and improbable story happened in this exact way or whether it has more in common with tales of reptiles said to inhabit the stomachs of unwary drinkers from springs.

CHILD KILLED BY A BEETLE

A correspondent writing from Ashley, pa., August 23, says: A post-mortem examination has just been held upon the body of a two years old child of Mr. Louis Schappert, a butcher residing in this place, which died a day or two since in great agony. It was taken suddenly and violently ill, and nothing could be administered that seemed to give any relief. Its body swelled to nearly twice its size, and it died vomiting blood. On the opening of the stomach of the child, the cause of the singular illness and death was discovered. In the coating of the stomach, with the huge horns firmly imbedded was an enormous stag beetle. The only explanation that could be given as to the manner of the insect getting into the stomach was that given by the child’s mother, who stated that the night the child was taken sick, and a few moments before the first symptoms, it had asked for a drink. The mother gave the child a drink from a cup containing water and sitting on a chair beside the bed. There is no doubt that one of these horned beetles had fallen into the cup while flying about the room, and the child drank it with the water. Eastern Argus [Portland, ME] 7 September 1871: p. 4

We’ve read before about Butterflies of Doom—black moths and winged insects as tokens of death.  This multi-colored angel of death played a more direct and deadly role as a child was

LURED TO DEATH BY BUTTERFLY

Child Reached For It and Was Killed by Fall From Fire Escape.

New York, June 15. Mary Fletcher, 6 years old, fell from the third floor fire escape at No. 1813 Amsterdam Avenue, yesterday afternoon, and was killed.

The child had been permitted by her mother to play on the fire escape. A large butterfly alighted on the brick wall near the child, and she made an attempt to catch it. In her excitement she fell through the opening. New Haven [CT] Register 15 June 1899: p. 8

The U.S. Bureau of Entomology made a shocking revelation about the Brown-tail moth.

MOTH CAUSES TUBERCULOSIS

Brown-Tail Variety Has Already Killed a Government Agent

(Washington Dispatch to New York World)

The announcement that a New England woman is seriously ill from the “brown-tail moth rash” is causing alarm in states where the pest is spreading. The bureau of entomology is making constant war on the brown-tail moth, but it is on the increase.

“We lost one of our men from the effects of the rash caused by the hair of the caterpillar going into his lungs and pores,” said Dr. L.O. Howard, chief of the bureau.

C.L. Marlatt, assistant chief of the bureau, said:

“The brown-tail moth exercises a very deleterious effect on health. The hair which cover the caterpillars of this moth are strongly nettling and not only are they so from accidental contact with a caterpillar which may fall on clothes, face, neck or hands from an infested tree, but also from the myriads of hairs which are shed by these caterpillars when they transform to the chrysalis state.

“Breathed into the lungs, the hairs may cause inflammation and become productive of tuberculosis. Thousands have suffered from brown rash. All of the assistants who have been connected with the government work with these pests in the New England states have been seriously poisoned. Two of them had to give up their work and go to the southwest to try to recover from pulmonary troubles, super induced by the irritating hairs of the brown-tail moth. The death of one man on the work was due to severe internal poisoning contracted in field work against larvae.

“This insect is a most undesirable neighbour, even if it were not responsible for great injury to orchards and ornamental trees.”

The brown-tail moth was imported by a florist in Somerville, Mass., twenty years ago, probably on roses from Holland or France. Its presence was not discovered until 1897, when it had made much headway.

Dr. Howard believes the moth can be killed out if the people will fight it. Evening Times [Grand Forks ND] 23 November 1911: p. 4

The caterpillar of the moth does cause skin irritation and breathing difficulties, but we cannot blame it for tuberculosis.

On the other hand, I recently saw a headline about a motorcyclist being choked by an inhaled moth. (In a related note, a dense swarm of mayflies caused multiple motorcycles to crash and closed a bridge in Pennsylvania.) What are the odds of that happening?

BOY KILLED BY MOTH

Flies Into His Mouth, Lodges in Windpipe and Prevents Breathing

Owensboro, Ky., Oct. 18. Almost instant death from swallowing a candle moth was the fate that befell 10-year-old Jessie Moore, son of George Moore, of Whiteville, this county. The moth passed into the boy’s windpipe, and altho a physician was in the house at the time, he could do nothing to save the child’s life.

The boy and his father were sitting in front of a fire. The former had fallen asleep in his chair with his mouth slightly open. A large moth fluttering around a lamp on a table nearby suddenly flew into the boy’s open mouth. The father saw it and supposed that the boy would be awakened, but was alarmed when instead he became black in the face and was apparently thrown into convulsions. In an adjoining room with a smaller child of the Moore family was Dr. McDonald of Whitesville and he was quickly called into the room to see the boy, but the lad died in a few seconds. The moth had gone into the boy’s mouth and lodged squarely on top of the windpipe, completely shutting off his breath. Fort Worth [TX} Star-Telegram 18 October 1907: p. 11

I am not sure if this next item is just a fictional tale for the papers or whether night-moths are really such crack shots with a pistol. It sounds like an episode of House.

KILLED BY A MOTH.

Princess Caravella, a singularly lovable woman, had been entertaining a party of friends at dinner at the Caravella Palace in Naples, and, as she had promised, to attend a ball towards midnight, she went to her bedroom to lie down for a few minutes’ rest to refresh herself for the dance.

At 11 o’clock her maid entered the room to awake her, whereupon the Princess asked her to return a little later, and. twenty minutes afterwards, when she returned, the girl found her mistress still lying on her bed with scarcely a muscle of the face changed, but stone dead, with the mark of a tiny bullet in the region of the heart.

The maid’s shrieks quickly brought the Prince and the whole household to the room, and within ten minutes the judicial and police authorities arrived. It was clear that no stranger had fired the shot, since the bedroom was situated on the third floor, and no one had entered the gates of the palace between the hour of ten and midnight.

At length the Prince was arrested on a charge of having murdered his wife with the little pistol which lay by her side on the table, and one chamber of which was empty, colour being lent to the accusation by the fact that he was notoriously jealous.

His trial resulted in acquittal, partly in consequence of an extraordinary piece of testimony which was produced in court by one of the police officials. The testimony he related was this: A couple of days after the murder, on the removal of the seals from the door to the bedroom, he made a careful investigation of the apartment, and had found on the floor by the bedside one of those enormous night moths, the bodies of which are almost as thick as a man s thumb, and which abound in Italy. He declared that the moth’s wings were badly singed, as if it had flown against the candle that stood on the table by the bedside.

He produced the math in court, and then proceeded to point out to the judges that some of the powder on the insect’s wings was apparent on the black ebony and gold stock and trigger of the little revolver which had been found on the table with which the shooting had been done.

He then called the attention of the judges and the jury to the phenomenal facility with which the trigger yielded, and advanced the argument that the Princess had been killed by the night moth, which, he alleged, must have flown into the room, attracted by the candle-light, and falling with singed wings on to the table, had discharged the revolver in the violence of its contortions. Hastings Standard 18 July 1914: p. 1

These horrifying tales brought back childhood memories of reading about hapless South American villagers overwhelmed and eaten by army ants, leaving behind only skeletons.

Killed by Ants.

A broken-hearted mother, a peasant woman living near Schlang, Bohemia, is weeping over her discovery a few days ago refuting the popular belief that red and black ants, while a nuisance, are no menace to life or limb.

The woman, going out to labor in the fields after nursing her babe, laid the infant on the ground in the shade and went to work. After a while the child began to cry violently. The mother, thinking that it simply wished to be taken up, paid no attention to it.

The cries increased in violence at first, and then gradually died away, presently ceasing entirely. When the mother had finished her task and returned to her infant she at first thought it had been stolen. Her attention was attracted to a swarming heap of black ants, and on approaching was horrified to see one hand of the child sticking out of the mass of insects. The baby had ceased to breathe. Its eyes had been eaten out, and the insects, swarming into its throat, had literally choked it to death. Denver [CO] Rocky Mountain News 17 March 1902: p. 3

COUPLE KILLED BY ANTS

El Paso, Tex., Aug. 17. Jesus Gonzales and his wife, Maria, unknowingly camped on a nest of desert ants while crossing the country here and were so terribly bitten by the insects that they succumbed at the hospital later. Grand Forks [ND] Daily Herald 18 August 1908: p. 3

Reports of spider deaths almost always follow the same monotonous thread. Here are two of the more singular cases.

To demonstrate the potent character of molecular influence, I would refer you to an incident that occurred in San Francisco, Cal., where a lady, Mrs. Jervis, was bitten by a poisonous tarantula. She lingered for six months in continual agony, her blood literally drying up, till she was reduced to an absolute skeleton. Three months before her death her entire right side became paralyzed; yet, strange to say, the hand had a tendency to crawl, and the fingers incessantly moved like the legs of a spider. The encyclopaedia of death and life in the spirit-world, John Reynolds Francis p. 77-8

I’ve written before about people who died from accidentally swallowing spiders. This fellow apparently did not read the papers as he wantonly and deliberately ate three spider egg sacs.

A singular death, reported by a correspondent of the Louisville Courier-Journal occurred in Tishomingo County, Mississippi, a few days ago. Mr. Pennington, a stout healthy farmer, living about four miles from Iuka, had a slight chill last Sunday. The day before he was in excellent health. Monday morning he felt the approach of another chill and lay down on the bed. After lying awhile he remarked to a member of his family that he had heard it said that spider-webs “were good for chills,” and that he believed he would try the remedy, whereupon he rose from the bed and gathering from the wall or ceiling of the room a web in which were three “spider balls,” as they are called, swallowed them without more ado. Very soon his throat, lips and the whole of his face were greatly swollen by the action of the poison. Who has not seen hundreds of young spiders not so large as a pin-head, swarm from one of these balls when broken open? And who, but this ill-fated Mississippian would ever have thought of swallowing a spoonful of them as a remedy for the chills, or for anything else. Jackson [MI] Citizen Patriot 20 August 1870: p. 2

Potato bugs/beetles, while bad for the potatoes, do not usually bother people. Any explanations for this unusual case of insect toxicity?

At Piqua, Ohio, last week, Rev. W. L. Fee picked a quantity of potato bugs off his vines and placed them in a tin can; then pouring boiling water into the can, he stood over it to watch its Christian effect on the enemy, but soon became very ill and it was concluded the vapor had poisoned him. Cleveland [OH] Leader 2 June 1871: p. 3

I was surprised to find no human-roach fatalities. As a student I lived in a subterranean apartment infested with roaches the size of Medjool dates. They were an insolent, cowardly bunch, fleeing under the sofa at the flick of a light switch. I always feared they would swarm me in my sleep or perhaps burrow into my skull through the ear….

ROACH KILLED BIG COBRA

Monster Reptile Meets Death in a Most Unusual Way.

Rex, the king cobra at the Bronx Park, the largest reptile in captivity and the deadliest snake on earth, is dead.

He was murdered while he slept, in the most cowardly and atrocious manner—by a little black roach. The king of all snakes had suffered indignities for some weeks, and the ignoble way his earthly career was ended was the climax. Last Sunday a week ago Raymond L. Ditmars, the curator of reptiles at the Zoo, who had been noticing the irritability of Rex for more than a week, tempted him with a choice water snake, the prize dainty for a cobra. While Rex was swallowing this morsel he was held and a tumor cut from the left side of his jaw. If he had not been taken advantage of in this fashion he couldn’t have been overcome. He got well from the operation.

Rex ate only on Sundays, and this time of the year he slept most of the time between meals. Last Sunday he had a square meal and, snake-like, went to sleep. He did not stir after this meal.

Yesterday morning Keeper Charles Snyder, whose special pet Rex was, noticed that the snake was lying particularly still. When he poked him with a stick the snake didn’t move and Snyder investigated. Rex was dead. He hadn’t been sick and bore no marks of violence. This puzzled the keeper.

Dr. W. Reid Blair, the veterinarian, was called in to perform an autopsy. It was thought something the snake had eaten had disagreed with him, but the autopsy proved this theory unsound.

Upon further cutting up it was found that the cause of Rex’s death lay in his head. The head was cut open, and inside the brain was found a little black roach, still alive. This roach had bored into the cobra’s cranium. This is the first case of the kind on record. The Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 30 January 1910: p. 6

(For another unequal contest, here’s an eyewitness account about hummingbirds killed by praying mantes.)

Even though I have found no actual roach fatalities, there is this unsettling report, which suggests that the roaches were using the children as appetizers.

The following interesting letter from Mr. Herbert H. Smith, the collector and naturalist, gives a vivid picture of the roach nuisance in the tropics:

“Cockroaches are so common in Brazilian country houses that nobody pays any attention to them. They have an unpleasant way of getting into provision boxes, and they deface books, shoes, and sometimes clothing. Where wall paper is used they soon eat it off in unsightly patches, no doubt seeking the paste underneath. But at Corumba, on the upper Paraguay, I came across the cockroach in a new role. In the house where we were staying there were nearly a dozen children, and every one of them had their eyelashes more or less eaten off by cockroaches–a large brown species, one of the commonest kind throughout Brazil. The eyelashes were bitten off irregularly, in some cases quite close to the lid. Like most Brazilians, these children had very long, black eyelashes, and their appearance thus defaced was odd enough. The trouble was confined to children, I suppose because they are heavy sleepers and do not disturb the insects at work.  My wife and I sometimes brushed cockroaches from our faces at night, but thought nothing more of the matter. The roaches also bite off bits of the toenails. Brazilians very properly encourage the large house spiders, because they tend to rid the house of other insect pests. The Louisiana Populist [Natchitoches, LA] 12 February 1897: p. 4

Bed-bugs are hardly benign insects, but they seem to have grossly exceeded their brief in this case:

Killed by Bedbugs.

A remarkable case of the death of a woman was reported recently from Franklin township, Beaver County, Pa. The death occurred while the woman was suffering with a violent attack of headache, to which she has been subject for nearly three years. For the past three years she has been living in an old house which was badly infested with bedbugs. Shortly after moving into it she began to be troubled with a strange type of headache, which seemed to increase in violence with each returning attack until at times she was rendered unconscious by the severe pains, which she often described as resembling a heavy weight or pressure on the top of her head. The strange nature of the case and his inability to render aroused the attending physician’s curiosity, and with the consent of the bereaved husband, he cut open the skull after the woman’s death. He found firmly lodged on the top of the brain in a clotted mass, a large number of bed-bugs. How they got there baffles all who have heard of the case. The doctor has placed his strange find in alcohol and has sent an account of the case to a medical school in New York. Patriot [Harrisburg, PA] 17 February 1888: p. 3

Naturally, I have to add the caveat that the sufferer, the physician, and the medical school are unnamed, in the time-honored manner of urban legend. And Harrisburg is a long way from Beaver County.

We began with flies, let us finish with maggots because while flies are the messengers of the angel of death, their maggots get you coming and going…. Maggots do have their place–in genuine corpses and possibly for cleaning out infected wounds. But they are a dreadful way to die.

EATEN BY MAGGOTS

PITIABLE CASE OF AN OLD MAN FROM BARBER COUNTY

A very pitiable case of an old man, friendless and unable to care for himself is at Dudley’s sanitarium on North Market street. About a week ago an old man drifted in here from Barber county. He stayed at a place on the corner of Harry and Hydraulic avenues and became very ill with diabetis [sic] and was unable to care for himself. He was removed to the city hospital and remained there two days. As he was absolutely penniless, the hospital could not afford to keep him and he was taken to the county jail. He was placed in a cell and made as comfortable as possible. As the man was helpless and unable to take care of himself, he was soon in a horrible condition. Yesterday a Mrs. Cox, who does much work among the poor classes, found him there and arranged to have him removed to the Dudley place. The men who moved him, had to protect themselves with handkerchiefs soaked in alcohol, while they washed and dressed him in clean clothing. It was found that he was practically being eaten alive by maggots. The sight was too horrible for some of the men to stand and they had to retire from the room. Many think that the city needs a hospital under police supervision where unfortunate cases like this can be cared for until arrangements can be made for a proper home for them. The Wichita [KS] Beacon 4 July 1899: p. 5

Many might think that a better class of pesticide was what was needed, to control the flies.

One might say that such things would not have happened to the gentleman above, if he had had someone to look after him. But maggots will find a way.

EATEN BY MAGGOTS Horrible Death of a Woman at Milwaukee.

Milwaukee, Wis., Aug. 13. Mrs. Anna Beatty, who lived with her family at Bay View, last evening, died a most horrible death. About two weeks ago a fly got into one of her nostrils, and it was some time before she was able to remove it, and when she did an itching sensation remained and her nose and throat began to swell. She became alarmed, and a week ago Sunday a physician was called. Since that time Mrs. Beatty had been suffering in a manner almost indescribable, and the doctors say a similar case is unknown to medical science. It is stated that soon after she was taken sick maggots were discovered in her nose and throat, and for several days Mrs. Beaty had been unable to swallow anything like food. Her death was the result of having been literally eaten up by maggots. She died in the greatest agony, and her affliction was a puzzle to the doctors. Upon examination of the body it was found that the partition of her nose was gone, a hole had been eaten through the roof of the mouth, the soft palate had disappeared, and the throat was frightfully eaten. St Paul [MN] Daily Globe 14 August 1890: p. 1

Other dire deaths by insect? “The worms crawl in; the worms crawl out…”  chriswoodyard8 AT gmail.com

See also The Death Bug of Chicago for a fanciful tale of insect death.

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead.

Cholera Jokes

Cholera searching for his big clown shoes. Illustration of Cholera being spread by Miasma, by Robert Seymour
Cholera searching for his big clown shoes. [Illustration of Cholera being spread by Miasma, by Robert Seymour]
The theory about rats being exonerated for their role in spreading the Black Death, with plague gerbils now being blamed—a premise for a Monty Python sketch if ever there was one—made me think about another type of Black Death: the cholera. And from there it all went downhill to the brief survey you see before you, not about certain fortean phenomena associated with the pandemics, nor gruesome incidents arising from the disease’s horrible mortality, but about–cholera jokes.

The disease was (and is) no laughing matter. It was dubbed “The Black Death” for the blackened faces of dehydrated victims, some of whom died within hours. Six massive pandemics were reported up through the early part of the 20th century and the disease still kills over 100,000 people a year. The fact that jokes could be made about such a hideous threat is a testimony to the resilience of the human spirit, or, realistically, the usual denial and gallows humor triggered by trauma.

There was much controversy over cholera’s source and it was this ignorance that caused so much terror. It was believed to be caused by eating watermelons, pineapples, or other fresh fruit; by over-indulgence in alcohol; and from drinking chilled water in the summer. Pork was also implicated. Miasma theory suggested that bad air or stenches were to blame for disease and that bad odors signaled the presence of cholera. Immigrants from Eastern Europe were regarded with the gravest suspicion. Even the great Pasteur had no real answers. In 1892 his advice for staying well was “Keep the abdomen warm, avoid fruit, bad water, and chances of contagion.”

Some doctors suggested boiling everything eaten or drunk: a humorous story from the 1880s told of a man who insisted that his wife boil pancakes and ice and burn her “Hamburg lace” and “Brussels carpets” for fear of invasion by foreign microbes.  In 1914 a reporter claimed that the Austrian military was white-washing their coal to avoid contagion from Russian prisoners-of-war. How, exactly, that was supposed to help, remains a mystery. Panic over cholera was as pervasive as that seen in recent Ebola outbreaks. It was said that fear of the disease alone killed many of the victims.

A man who had been sentenced to death at Vienna, was offered a full pardon, if he would consent to pass the night in the bed of a person who had died of cholera. In about four hours he was seized with vomiting, violent cramps, and all the symptoms of cholera. Ultimately, by medical assistance, his life was saved. His astonishment was unbounded when he was informed that the bed was perfectly pure. The Daily Dispatch [Richmond, VA] 13 November 1855: p. 4 

Such uncertainty and panic, naturally, led to many dubious preventatives and remedies of all descriptions.

SOME CHOLERA DISINFECTANT.

A Cincinnati local was presented, during the hot weather, with a sample of a “deodorizer and cholera disinfectant,” with a request to notice it. He says he noticed it as soon as he smelt it, and thus relates the sequel:

Didn’t wish to terrify the family by the ostentatious display of cholera precautions of an extraordinary nature, so we took our patent deodorizer home secretly, concealed under our coat.

Terrible commotion in the street-car. The windows were thrown up hastily, handkerchiefs applied furiously to noses, and a general application of camphor gum, of which each one had a supply in his pocket. Profane fellows swore at the Board of Health for not cleaning the streets. One was sure it was in the gutters: another thought it was in the air; a toper, half drunk, said he was satisfied “it was in the (hic) water.”

“I’ll tell you what it’s in,” said a gloomy man, eyeing us suspiciously.

“What?” the passengers shrieked, with one voice:

It’s in the car!”

With a wide yell, they jumped up at once and tumbled out, leaving us all alone, and monarch of all we deodorized.

Got into the house unperceived, and deposited the disinfectant in the cellar, and then hurried back to the office. There was a good deal of it about our clothes, so much so that one or two men who owed us borrowed money avoided us altogether. Felt emotions in the region of the stomach, that were disagreeably suggestive. Got a little alarmed, and concluded to deodorize the disinfectant, which we did with a glass of brandy. Felt a little better ourself, but began to feel alarmed about the effect of that disinfecting; compound upon the family. Hurried home — found the house shut up, and nobody in. Terrible smell about the house — neighbors all terrified. Asked one of them where my family was, and he said they had gone down to the bone-boiling district, to get out of the smell!

Opened the door, but had to close it again, the smell was so bad. Went around to the back yard, and saw the rats leaving in great precipitation. A neighbor suggested that a candle be lowered down the chimney, to test the foulness of the air before the house was opened. Saloons in the neighborhood doing an immense business in the sale of brandy and whisky. Flannel belts in demand. A country-woman with a load of watermelons mobbed and driven back. Arrival of a police officer, who arrested us for keeping a nuisance on our premises. Explanations made, and we are paroled until the house can be opened. Burnt some pitch on the front doorstep  and were then enabled to get to throw up the windows. Whew! neighbors said they preferred cholera.

The disinfectant is nearly abolished now, and family back again, enjoying their usual health, they say they don’t wish to be disinfected any more. Boston [MA] Journal 13 October 1866: p. 2

As an aside, the disease had ravaged Savannah, Georgia in July of the same year, so this wasn’t an “off year” for cholera.

Physicians were one source of cholera humor.

Nibs: Peculiar feature about this epidemic of cholera in Europe, Nobs.

Nobs: What’s that?

Nibs: Why, the more the disease spreads, you see, the more it is contracted. The Medical Brief, Vol. 22, 1894

“How do you  like your new French doctor?”

“Well, I told him I had cholera, because I didn’t know how to say dyspepsia in French, and I’m afraid he has not given me the right remedies.” Wit and Humor of the Physician, Henry Frederic Reddall, 1906

When cholera broke out, there was often difficulty in finding gravediggers; sometimes four or five men would be needed to be successively hired before a grave could be finished. One Ohio gravedigger seems to have kept his nerve and his sense of humor:

When the body of Hillary Neil, who was the first citizen of Xenia [OH] to die with the cholera, was taken to the cemetery, Mr. Cline, not having received notice in sufficient time, did not have the grave ready to receive it. One of the men who accompanied the corpse grew impatient at the delay, and stepping up to Mr. Cline said: “Can’t you keep a few graves dug ahead, and not wait till a man dies, and you get an order before you begin the work, and thus keep us waiting?” “Certainly,” replied Mr. Cline, “if you will take the measure of the people before they die; and if you think that a good idea, I will just take your measure right here, and when they haul you out, will put you in without delay.” This put a quietus upon his enthusiasm, and he did not leave his measure. History of Greene County: Together with Historic Notes on the Northwest, R. S. Dills, 1881

The Hartford Courant told this story in 1869:

Cholera fenced in. — You have noticed the flaming handbills setting forth the virtues of a cholera remedy, that are posted by the hundreds on the board fence enclosing the ground on Main Street, where Roberts’ opera house is being erected. Well, there was a timid countryman, the other day, who had so far recovered from the ‘cholera scare’ as to venture into the city with a horse and wagon load of vegetables; and thereby hangs a tale. He drove moderately along the street, when he suddenly spied the word ‘Cholera,’ in big letters on the new fence, and he staid to see no more. Laying the lash on to his quadruped, he went past the handbills like a streak of lightning, went—’nor stood on the order of his going’ — up past the tunnel, planting the vegetables along the entire route, — for the tail-board had loosened, — hardly taking breath, or allowing his beast to breathe, till he reached home at W___.

“Safely there, he rushed wildly into the midst of his household, exclaiming,

“‘O, wife, wife, they have got the cholera in Hartford, and have fenced it in.'”  The Funny Side of Physic, Addison Darre Crabtre, M.D., 1880

You cannot have everything, as the man said when he was down with small-pox and cholera, and the yellow fever came into the neighbourhood. (1881)

 A physician wrote Sir Henry Halford:

Dear Sir, I was the first to discover Asiatic cholera and communicate it to the public. (1906 joke book)

During the prevalence of the cholera in Ireland, a soldier, hurrying into the mess-room, told his commanding officer that his brother had been carried off two days before by a fatal malady, expressing his apprehensions that the whole regiment would be exposed to a similar danger in the course of the following week.

“Good heavens!” ejaculated the officer, “what then did he die of?”

“Why, your honor, he died of a Tuesday.” Gems of Irish Wit and Humor, 1906

 A little girl being sent to the store to purchase some dyestuff, and forgetting the name of the article, said to the clerk, “John, what do folks dye with?” “Die with? Why, cholera, sometimes,” replied John. “Well, I believe that’s the name; I want three cents’ worth.” The Revolution 29 December 1870

Cholera and Watermelon

During the camping of the First Regiment at Santa Rosa, the pickets found considerable difficulty in preventing the men absenting themselves without leave, a circumstance for which the mint juleps of the town bar-rooms and the large contingent of pretty Santa Rosa girls—small blame to them—were chiefly accountable. One particularly sultry evening, while the sentinels were pacing their beats with their tongues fairly hanging out of their mouths with heat, and wondering whether the pirates in the mess tent would drink every last drop of beer before the “relief” came, one of the guards observed a private approaching, who was staggering along under the combined load of much conviviality and an enormous watermelon under each arm.

“Who goes there?”

“Er—hic—er fren,” responded the truant.

“Advance, friend, and give the countersign.”

“Hain’t got no—hic—countersign,” amiably replied private; “but I’ll ‘er—hic—give yer er—hic—warmellin.”

Pretty soon the officer of the day came round, and said to the sentinel, who was absorbed in munching a huge piece of watermelon stuck on the end of his bayonet.

“Did Perkins pass you just now?” “Yes, sir.” “Did he give the countersign?” inquired the lieutenant, taking a bite himself, as the man presented arms.

“Well, no, sir,” said the sentinel, confidentially; “the password was ‘Cholera,’ but he said ‘Watermelon,’ so I passed him and put the other half in your tent.”

“Did, eh?” mused the officer. “Hum! Watermelon, eh? Well, I guess that was near enough!” San Francisco Post.

Salt Lake [UT] Tribune 16 October 1884: p. 3

Other tasteless cholera jokes? No lemons, please. Chriswoodyard8 AT gmail.com

I’ve previously written on “The Plague Shawl” and the spread of disease through textiles. Also on the Disease Elemental.

Undine, from Strange Company, who knows her forteana AND her bad poetry, writes in with this absolutely brilliant cholera poem:

THE MELON

[New York Star.]

Who started the cholera?

I, said the Melon,

I am the felon.

From warmth of a torrider

Country than Florida

I carried the cholera;

We sailed to Marseilles

With favoring gales,

And from there we went on

To visit Toulon.

Where next do we go?

Just wait; time will show,

But it will not be long

Ere the Germans will find

That cholera loves

A trip on the rind.

Daily Illinois State Journal [Springfield, IL] 27 August 1884: p. 2

 

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. And visit her newest blog, The Victorian Book of the Dead.

The Unfinished Manuscript: 1884

 

diphtheria skeleton stranging child richard tennant cooper 1912
Diphtheria strangling a child, Richard Tennant Cooper, 1912 https://wellcomecollection.org/works/gaqvgk4s

The Unfinished Manuscript

Literary men have, somehow, received a kind of social black eye; that is, no one believes that they are quite as good husbands or as good fathers as they should be; and, from the observatory of a casual view, this is correct. Few people know to what extremities literary men are reduced. Few, very few indeed, know how they court the so-called muse of inclination. The man who handles the drawing-knife or plane can, if he be in good physical condition, do his work creditably; but the literary man, though he be in robust health, and though he may not have an ache or a pain, is frequently unable to do acceptable work. This is a curious freak which no student of metaphysics can explain, for the mind of man, although it is constantly becoming clearer and more capable of comprehension, is still something which a Newton cannot define, nor a Bacon perfectly explore. A man’s mind seems to have but little to do with his affections, for, although his heart may be warm, his words are sometimes cold.

“I want you to go to bed,” said Mr. Mecklamore, the well-known novelist, to his little girl. “Every night when I sit down to work you persist in snorting around. Go to bed; I’ve got work to do.”

“She can’t understand you,” said Mrs. Mecklamore; “I don’t think that she is well.”

“She’s always ill when I want to work. She seems to study the time. What do you want to snort that way for? You are enough to drive a man crazy!”

“Robert, I don’t think the little girl can help it,” the wife replied. “She is too young to know anything about the importance of your work.”

“Well it’s time she was learning,” the author exclaimed, turning, with an angry air. “Other people can work without interruption. I don’t see why I should be imposed on. I’ll go down town, I can write there without interruption,” and he gathered up his papers and left the house.

Quietly, and without interruption, he worked for several hours. Occasionally, when his mind was deep in the molding of a character, he would see a little anxious face, and hear an exclamation of gladness; but he waved aside the vision and worked on. Late at night a boy came with a note. The message ran:

“I am very uneasy about Dora; I think she has the diphtheria.”

“My work is done for tonight,” he mused; and, arranging his papers with a discontented air, he went home. Ho found the doctor there. The little sufferer smiled at him when he entered.

She tried to say something, but “papa’s come,” was all he could understand.

An unfinished manuscript stared at him.

“Is it a very violent attack?” he asked of the physician.

“Yes, very.”

The mother sat on the edge of the bed. The father approached. He could not see the lines of the manuscript now. The little girl choked, and they lifted her up. The father put his arm under her head. The unfinished manuscript was dim.

“She has been ailing for several days,” said the mother, “but we did not think there was anything serious the matter with her. She has been so gay and so full of frolic that we didn’t think anything could ail her.”

The sufferer looked at her father and tried to speak, but failing, she put her hand into his and smiled. The unfinished manuscript was dim. With a struggle she said:

“Am I bad?”

“No, angel,” whispered the father.

“Do you want me to go to bed?”

“No darling.” The unfinished manuscript was fading more and more.

“She is past all help,” the doctor said.

The mother hid her face in the window curtain. The father took her in his arms. She looked at him and was dead.

The unfinished manuscript had faded.

The Daily Globe [St. Paul MN] 3 January 1884: p. 3

 

Chris Woodyard is the author of The Victorian Book of the Dead, The Ghost Wore Black, The Headless Horror, The Face in the Window, and the 7-volume Haunted Ohio series. She is also the chronicler of the adventures of that amiable murderess Mrs Daffodil in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales. The books are available in paperback and for Kindle. Indexes and fact sheets for all of these books may be found by searching hauntedohiobooks.com. Join her on FB at Haunted Ohio by Chris Woodyard or The Victorian Book of the Dead.