Morbid Fact Du Jour!

Today’s Exciting Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

This was written by John Marr in his wonderful 1990’s era zine “Murder Can Be Fun“.  I’d like to shout out what a splendid bit of writing it is! – DeSpair

The classic recreational drowning occurred in Lowell, Massachusetts in 1925. A fine spring afternoon found 9-year-old Johnny Veres and his little pal Milt, who was only 6, goofing off on the bands of the Merrimac River. Undoubtedly, by the time they answered the summons of history, the two young scamps had already run through the complete retinue of childish riverside amusements. Bare toes had wiggled in mud, stones had skipped across the water, fish had evaded improvised hooks. The lads itched for something new, something different. As they later told police, they were ready “for excitement.”

They found it by adding a new, original twist to an ancient game. For thousands of years, small boys [and girls!  – DeSpair] have whiled away many a seaside hour by constructing small crude crafts of flotsam and jetsam. After setting them adrift, the youthful rascals gleefully pelt the products of their labors with stones. The game ends when the target has been smashed to kindling, or, better yet, sunk to the accompaniment of children reveling in the joy of destruction.

Johnny and Milt’s innovation was simple: a living target. Aquatic birds were out; they have an unsporting habit of flying out of range after the first volley. Adult swimmers and mariners are prone to retaliation. This left them but one obvious option.

Somehow or other, they got their hands on an 18-month-old baby. After stripping the squirming infant of her clothes, they threw her into the river and jovially pelted her with rocks as the current bore her away. Unlike their previous floating targets, it wasn’t necessary for them to score too many direct hits to sink the screaming infant. As she went down, they probably thought exultantly, This is excitement! The quick response of the police, summoned by horrified onlookers, was just an added thrill. However, it was too late for the baby. By the time her body was recovered from the river, she was dead.

In custody, Johnny and Milt corroborated each other’s stories, save for one small detail. Each admitted to his part in the kidnapping, and they had no compunction about describing how they threw the stones. But when it came to throwing the baby in the river in the first place, it was a plain case of, “He started it first!”

Milt was eligible to get away with it by virtue of his age; Massachusetts law at the time presumed that a child under the age of seven was unable to understand the nature of their act. No charges were brought against him, although he was held as a material witness. The picture for little Johnny was far grimmer. He was indicated for manslaughter. At his hearing, he put on a show worthy of his spiritual ancestor, Hannah Ocuish. As the judge, visibly moved, read the indictment that threatened to incarcerate the little boy for the remainder of his childhood, Johnny, with all the carefree innocence of his years, amused himself by playing with a handful of pennies a kindly deputy sheriff had given him. As they led the little killer away from the courtroom, he playfully ran away from the sheriff, but was quickly caught. Security was poor as there wasn’t a set of handcuffs in town small enough for his tiny wrists. When confronted with a jail cell and asked what it was for, he announced, “That’s where they put the bad men.” Obviously, not the kind of place a small boy who was only playing expected to end up. At last word, the court shipped Johnny to a local psychiatric hospital for sanity observation.

Oddly, I couldn’t find a photo of the older boy, John Veres, but I did find this photo of little Milt.

And here are a few headlines related to the murder:

Culled from: Murder Can Be Fun #17 by John Marr

Post-Mortem Portrait Du Jour!

The Twins
circa 1852
sixth-plate daguerreotype
3.75″ x 3.25″

In this highly unusual scene, a woman holds two infants, one living and the other deceased and complete hidden from the viewer in a shroud-like wrapping. The most probably explanation is that this was done in order to conceal signs of advanced decomposition, injury, or illness.

Culled from: Beyond the Dark Veil: Post-Mortem and Mourning Photography

Garretdom!

The Scaffolding Gave Way.

LEWISTOWN, Pa., Sept. 26.—While James Banks and James Barr, two painters, were engaged in painting the cornice of the Presbyterian Church yesterday morning the scaffolding on which they were standing gave way and the men were precipitated to the ground below, a distance of fifty feet. Banks was instantly killed, his head striking on a large stone, crushing in the whole top portion of the skull. Barr’s back was hurt and his injuries are pronounced fatal. Banks was thirty-five years old and leaves a wife and three children.

Culled from the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
1886 Morbid Scrapbook

Today’s Fulfilling Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

If the condemned wins a stay of execution after he has eaten his last meal, does he get to choose another meal when his next execution date rolls around?

Absolutely! This has happened many times. The trick is to make sure that you actually have the meal in front of you before the stay is issued. For example, Dobie Gillis Williams (Louisiana) received a stay while he was dining on his last meal. He just continued eating. However, Thomas Thompson (California) received his stay of execution after he had ordered his final meal, but before he had actually received it. The order was canceled.

I’m not sure if Dobie’s first meal was the same as his last meal, but this is an artistic depiction by Teresa Kelly of his last meal prior to his actual execution on January 8, 1999. 

Culled from: Last Suppers: Famous Final Meals from Death Row

WEEGEE Du Jour!

Weegee was the pseudonym of Arthur Fellig (June 12, 1899 – December 26, 1968), a photographer and photojournalist, known for his stark black and white street photography. Weegee worked in Manhattan, New York City’s Lower East Side as a press photographer during the 1930s and ’40s, and he developed his signature style by following the city’s emergency services and documenting their activity. Much of his work depicted unflinchingly realistic scenes of urban life, crime, injury and death.

Here’s a photo from the book Weegee’s New York: Photographs, 1935-1960:

Murder suspect Alan Downs is led to jail after confessing to killing his wife, circa 1940, in New York City. 

(I couldn’t find any additional information about this guy – anyone want to see if you can track the story down?)

Garretdom: Olde News!

SHOT IN HIS TRACKS.

A German Burglar Fatally Wounded While Attempting to  Run Away.

During the past ten days a number of small robberies were perpetrated in the Eighth district [Philadelphia]. It was evident from the fact that the houses were all opened from the rear by the same implement, that one man or a single gang was doing the work, and the police were instructed to keep a particularly careful lookout for suspicious characters. Early on Saturday morning Policeman Ritchie saw a man in the act of scaling a fence in rear of 444 north Eighth street. He placed him under arrest, when the prisoner knocked him down and ran. The officer recovered his feet and fired after the fugitive, brining him down at the second shot.

Assistance was secured and the wounded man was taken to the station-house, where he gave the name of Frederick Glass and his residence as 910 Spring Garden street. The wound was found to be a dangerous one and he was sent to the Pennsylvania Hospital, where he died a short time after his admission.

A large chisel found in the man’s pocket was found to fit the marks on the houses which had been robbed or where attempts to force doors and shutters had been made and articles found in his room were identified as having been stolen.

Glass came to this country from Germany a short time ago and took up his lodgings at 910 Sprint Garden street with Mr. Voss. The proprietor of the house says the man had no visible means of support, and frequently remained out all night and slept during the day. The Coroner will investigate the case today.

Culled from the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
1886 Morbid Scrapbook

Today’s Honeycombed Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

Grave diggers, church sextons, and night watchmen appointed to guard the graves in 18th century England were often in the pay of the body snatchers. Fearful of discovery, the crooks took meticulous care to disguise the violation they caused by carefully replacing soil, flowers, and mementos in their original positions. The crimes were often so stealthy that a gang would sometimes burrow into a suitable-looking new grave, only to find it empty, their rivals having gotten there before them. In such cases, when one team had “trespassed” on the burial ground considered the territory of another, revenge was swift; there was no honor among body thieves. The crooks gave one another up to the authorities, raise a mob against their rivals, or left a trail of guilt, propping up coffins in their graves and leaving shrouds strewn on the ground. Ultimately, the reckless men became so adept at their trade, and the demand from anatomists so intense, that London’s churchyards were honeycombed with empty tombs. On several occasions when thefts were suspected, horrified relatives would frantically dig up grave after grave, only to find every corpse was gone.

Culled from: The Knife Man

Torture Instrument Du Jour!

Stretching Ladder

This instrument required that the victim be spread on an inclined ladder where his/her body would be stretched.

From this position, the victims were also exposed to additional atrocious torture all over their body in the form of flogging, mutilation and so on.

Culled from: Torture – Inquisition – Death Penalty

Garretdom!

A SUNDAY SUICIDE.

The Result of Domestic Unhappiness—Letters Left by the Deceased—Evidence That the Suicide was Premeditated.

“Good-bye,” were the last words spoken by Frederick Fegley to his wife before killing himself in a tragic manner yesterday in the Heiner’s Springs woods about half-past eleven o’clock. The suicide was rendered unusually appalling and tragic by the fact that the man’s young wife, whom he married only a few months ago, and his own brother were compelled to witness the self-destructing deed, which is supposed to have been caused through domestic infelicity.

Fegley was married in June last to Miss Mary E. Reed, daughter of William Reed, Nineteenth and Cotton streets. The course of their courtship did not run smoothly, and after marriage domestic happiness did not fall to their lot. Miss Reed was only a little over 14 years old when they were married, and from the evidence given before the Coroner yesterday it would seem that she married unwillingly and possibly out of fear, because Fegley had threatened several times that unless she consented to be his wife he would end his life. After the marriage they lived at the home of the girl’s parents for some time, but this did not seem to be agreeable to Fegley, and he left their home and took boarding with his brother-in-law, Henry Zuber, 1824 Cotton street. Subsequently he rented two rooms in the lower section of the city, bought furniture and asked his wife to go to housekeeping with him. The mother objected to her daughter’s leaving, but told the husband that if Mr. Reed, who was in Philadelphia, would give his consent when he returned home she would yield.

Yesterday Fegley spent the morning hours in company with some friends, and about the time above mentioned went to the home of his wife for her final answer. She again told him to be patient until her father returned home. “If you don’t live with me I’ll do away with myself,” said the husband, and he walked toward the new road which leads up into Heiner’s woods.

HE SHOWS THE REVOLVER.

When about a hundred yards from the house he drew from his pocket the revolver with which he ended his life and held it up toward his wife, who was watching him from the yard where they had been talking. Believing that he intended to carry out his threat and hoping to prevent it his wife ran after him, but he started on a brisk run up the road. Henry, a brother of the suicide, who was near by and saw him run followed by his wife also feared that he had decided upon a rash act and ran after him, but neither of the two caught up to him before he reached a grassy plot under a large tree in the woods. Turning around he faced the terrified wife and brother, put the barrel of the weapon into his mouth, while the brother, who was then only a few feet away, in a frantic shout, begged him to stop. The words came too late to be heeded. As the last one fell from the lips of the excited man the shot resounded through the woods. The wound proved fatal almost instantly. The residents of that portion of the city were greatly excited, and the lead man’s mother and sister were terribly affected by the awful and unexpected news.

Coroner Denhard was sent for, and as soon as he had viewed the body it was removed to the residence of Mr. Zuber and an inquest held. Henry Zuber, Henry Fegley, brother, MRs. Fegley and Mrs. Reed were the witnesses heard, but nothing but the facts already stated were elicited, except that Mrs. Reed said she objected to her daughter going away because she was needed at home, and that both her and Fegley had promised before the marriage that she could remain with them.

Before Fegley left with his wife, after talking to her in the yard, he gave her a letter, which, as well as another found on his person and addressed to his mother, brothers, and sisters, was produced at the inquest. He charges his wife with having deceived him, but did not intend to harm her in any way and hopes to meet her in Heaven. On the back of the envelope were written the words: “To-morrow look on the porch and you will be sad forever.” After due deliberation the jury gave as the verdict, “That the deceased, Frederick Fegley, came to his death on Sunday, September 26th, from a pistol shot wound inflicted by his own hand with suicidal intent.”

That he had fully made up his mind to kill himself is certain, because in the letter to his mother he tells her not to grieve for him, that his body will be found in a few days and that he will be better off dead than living. Besides this evidence of the fact there is still a stronger one. William Y. Lyon had sent Fegley a tax notice a few days ago and on Saturday evening he came to Mr. Lyon’s house and paid it and in the conversation which followed he told Mr. Lyon that he had trouble on account of his wife and added, “Look out for some startling reports.”

The deceased was a son of the late Joseph Fegley, who was killed a few years ago in East Reading by a runaway sleighing team. He was 24 years old, a pipe cutter by occupation, and bore an excellent reputation for sobriefty and industry. Henry, George, Mrs. Henry Zuber and Mrs. Annie Gartner are the surviving brotehrs and sisters.

A watch and chain, a small sum of money and the other person effects which were taken from the pockets of the dead man were given to his wife.

Culled from the September 27, 1886 issue of the Reading Times.

Today’s Freely Given Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

An account of the death of Private Albion B. Mills, Company E, 16th Maine Infantry, 1st Brigade, 2nd Division, 1st Corps at Gettysburg during the American Civil War.

Anna Morris Holstein, a volunteer nurse at Gettysburg, remembered this particular young man for many weeks after the battle. She reported their meeting:

In the (Union tent), as it was called, standing alone in a rebel row, [of tents] I found a boy of seventeen, wounded and “sick unto death,” whose wan, emaciated face, and cheerful endurance of suffering, at once enlisted my sympathy. He was the son of a clergyman in Maine; and in answer to inquiries about his wound, told me, with a feeling of evident pride, that “early in the day his right leg was shattered and left upon Seminary Hill, and he was carried to the rear; that the stump was doing badly; he had enlisted simply because it was his duty to do so; now he had no regret or fear, let the result be as it might.” I wrote immediately to his home, to tell them he was sinking rapidly; my next [letter] briefly stated how very near his end was; there were but a few days more of gentle endurance, and the presentiment of the child we had so tenderly cared for proved true—when, with murmured words of “home and heaven,” his young life ebbed away—another added to the many thousand given for the life of the nation. One week after his burial his father came; with a heart saddened with his great loss, [he] said that his eldest had fallen at “Malvern Hill,” the second was with the army at Fernandina, and Albert [sic], his youngest born, slept with the heroes who had made a worldwide fame at Gettysburg. They were his treasures, but he gave them freely for his country.

Private Mills hailed from Vassalboro, Maine. He was reported to have been wounded in his right leg on July 1. The ball caused an agonizing fracture and the limb had to be amputated at the upper third. He was seventeen or eighteen years old when he died on October 7; the burial followed the next day in the hospital cemetery at Camp Letterman, in Section 9, Grave #3, but the body was shortly moved to the National Cemetery.

2nd Corps Hospital, Gettysburg

Culled from: Killed In Action

Vintage Crime Photo Du Jour!

November 14, 1946

The woman in black—there was always one lurking around and possibly up to no good in the noir era—is Dorothy Sweeny of Shell Lake, Wisconsin, and she’s a suspect in the murder of her husband. Ellis Sweeny was ambushed and shot dead on October 9, 1946, in “the back woods in Wisconsin,” according to the Dispatch. A man named Gilbert Dickerson, described as Mrs. Sweeny’s “paramour,” was charged with the murder, which in the news shorthand of the time was invariably described as “a triangle killing.” Dickerson soon went to trial where, to the surprise of the press and prosecutors, a jury found him not guilty.

Even so, authorities still suspected Mrs. Sweeny, who in this photograph appears to have her grief well in check, of complicity in the crime. After Dickerson’s acquittal in November, she was then brought to St. Paul for a polygraph exam. Among those gathered around the table to watch a criminologist administer the test are the sheriff and district attorney from Washburn County, Wisconsin, and, at right, St. Paul Police Chief Charles J. Tierney.

Mrs. Sweeny, a blood pressure cuff around one arm, looks perfectly collected in this photograph, telling a reporter, “I am not a bit worried.” As it turned out, she had no need to be. She passed the polygraph and was later freed from jail with credit for time served after agreeing to plead guilty to being an accessory to murder. Under Wisconsin law, she could be charged with that crime even though her supposed accomplice had been acquitted. “And so,” said the Pioneer Press in a story late that November, “the 29-year-old woods man’s widow walked out of court a free woman.”

Culled from: Strange Days, Dangerous Nights

Garretdom!

Many years ago, a fascinating collection of scrapbooks containing newspaper articles from the 1880’s/90’s appeared on eBay. The scrapbooks were obviously compiled by a kindred soul, as all of the articles were Grim, and were meticulously pasted into old textbooks.  I tried to purchase the collection from the lucky soul who found them at an auction, but he quickly realized what he had and started selling them on eBay where they went for astronomical amounts.  I was able to talk him into making copies of the books for me before he sold them off, and I’ve been slowly using them for my vintage newspaper Garretdom collection over the years.  I decided to start sharing them on a daily basis. So without further adieu, here is one of the entries saved by our 19th century kindred soul:

A YACHT DISASTER.

Four Members of a Pleasure Party Go Down With the Wreck.

ST. JOHNS, N. F., Sept 24.—A disaster occurred in the Bay of St. Johns this morning, the British schooner Mary Ann, and cutting her in two. There were twenty-seven persons on board the ill-fated craft, four of whom were drowned. Their names were Charles Weeks, Nicholas Milley, Leander Milley and Sarah Ann Fahey. The others saved themselves by clinging to the main rail of the Summerset or were picked out of the water by her boats.

The Mary Ann sank within two minutes after the collision. Fahey had hold of his wife’s hand, and was drawing her out of the companionway of the sinking vessel, when the mainmast and mainsail fell, parting husband and wife forever. Gregory Leman, another passenger, was fatally injured.

Culled from the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
1886 Morbid Scrapbook

Today’s Belligerent Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

The fates of former child stars always make good media copy when they are dreadful, far juicier than reports on the few who adjust reasonably well to adulthood, like Shirley Temple or Ron Howard. One of the most tragic victims of the Hollywood studio system was talented young Bobby Driscoll. As a  youngster, the industry could not get enough of him. But when he became a gawky young adult, the system cruelly shoved him aside. He was unable to cope with such bitter rejection and escaped into drug addiction, which eventually killed him.

Driscoll was born in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, in 1937, and moved with his parents to California in 1943. A Los Angeles barber whose own boy was already in motion pictures urged Mrs. Driscoll to have little Bobby try his luck in the movies. She took him to MGM, where the pixie-faced Bobby was soon hired for a role in Margaret O’Brien’s Lost Angel (1943). By the time he was six, the cooperative Bobby was making $500 a week, remarkable money in those times—especially for a youngster. By 1946 he was being touted as “the greatest child find since Jackie Cooper played Skippy [in 1931].”

Young Bobby Driscoll

Driscoll was the first human actor Walt Disney put under contract. He and the equally young Luana Patten were paired in Song of the South (1946) and So Dear to My Heart (1948), billed as the “sweetheart team.” When asked what he intended to do with his weekly earnings, Bobby said, “I’m going to save my money and go to college, then become a G-man.” His biggest success was in the thriller The Window (1949); he was given a special Oscar as the year’s outstanding juvenile performer. Also for the Disney studio, he played Jim Hawkins in Treasure Island (1950) and provided the model and voice for the animated Peter Pan (1953).

The Sweetheart Team

By 1954, Bobby was in that awkward teenager stage, gangly and acne-faced. Finding screen jobs scarce, he performed a few TV guest appearances. Away from work, he did not fit in with his peers. “I really feared people,” he admitted later. “I tried desperately to be one of the gang. When they rejected me, I fought back, became belligerent and cocky and was afraid all the time.” He first tried marijuana when he was 16, then turned to harsher drugs, finally becoming a heroin addict. He was arrested in 1956 on a narcotics charge and on suspicion of being a drug pusher. Bobby then tried to straighten out his life, and even landed a new film role. The project, however, was a trashy study of juvenile delinquents called The Party Crashers (1958), featuring another Hollywood has-been, Frances Farmer, who was also failing to make a successful comeback.

Looks like a must-see to me!

Abandoning acting for the time being, Driscoll took odd jobs, but he either quit or got fired from every one. He married a woman named Marjorie, had a son, and was determined that his kid would never have to endure what he was undergoing. But when his wife divorced him, Bobby reverted to drugs. He was jailed as an addict in 1959, and in 1961 he was apprehended while robbing an animal clinic. He was incarcerated at Chino Penitentiary for drug addiction and remained there for more than a year. When he was paroled, he worked as a carpenter and then drifted to New York. His mother would remember, “None of the studios in New York would hire him because he had once been on drugs.”

Bobby’s last months must have been desperate ones indeed. He died penniless in an abandoned Greenwich Village tenement. His body was later discovered by two children playing there on March 30, 1968. Two empty beer bottles were found by the corpse and there were needle marks on his arms. Since no one knew who he was, he was buried in a pauper’s grave. The causes of death were listed as a heart attack and hardening of the arteries. Later that year, when Bobby’s father himself was dying, his mother tried again to find Bobby. She had no success, and she went to the FBI for assistance. Time passed, and finally, she heard from an L.A. County agency that her son was officially dead. He had been traced through his fingerprints to that unknown corpse who had been buried back in Manhattan.

Nobody could write a better epitaph to this wasted life than the victim himself. At one point in his tormented adult existence, he observed, “I was carried on a satin cushion and then dropped into the garbage can.”  [That should be on his gravestone! – DeSpair]

Driscoll near the end

Culled from: The Hollywood Book of Death

Vintage Photos Du Jour!

A Student’s Dream
Photographer: A. A. Robinson, 1906

Robinson made a series of 8″ x 10″ photographs depicting students on the dissecting table surrounded by cadavers and/or skeletons. The photographs were popular images of their time and were sold to students throughout the United States. The images graphically represent one of photography’s theoretical concepts—that of “magical substitution.” Magical substitution is the phenomenon when the viewers place themselves in the depicted scene. It is one source of empathy, as one contemplates even fleetingly what it would mean to be in that situation.

Culled from: Stiffs, Skulls & Skeletons

Garretdom: Parisian Edition

Many years ago, a fascinating collection of scrapbooks containing newspaper articles from the 1880’s/90’s appeared on eBay. The scrapbooks were obviously compiled by a kindred soul, as all of the articles were Grim, and were meticulously pasted into old textbooks.  I tried to purchase the collection from the lucky soul who found them at an auction, but he quickly realized what he had and started selling them on eBay where they went for astronomical amounts.  I was able to talk him into making copies of the books for me before he sold them off, and I’ve been slowly using them for my vintage newspaper Garretdom collection over the years.  I decided to start sharing them on a daily basis. So without further adieu, here is one of the entries saved by our 19th century kindred soul:

What a Wicked City Paris Is.

PARIS, Sept. 27.—The city continues to furnish a singularly large number of murders and suicides. At one of the hotels yesterday the cook shot and fatally wounded his mistress and then attempted suicide, because the woman had made him jealous. A hairdresser shot and mortally hurt his mistress, because she had tired of their relationship and resolved to reform. A workman having his week’s pay in his pocket, and feeling hilarious met a pretty female organ grinder, and asked her to play him a waltz so that he might dance for her amusement while she played for his. The woman’s male companion instantly became incensed at the request of the happy-minded workman, and shot him dead.

Culled from the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
1886 Morbid Scrapbook

Today’s Revolting Yet Truly Morbid Fact!

An excerpt from the introduction of A Hangman’s Diary: The Journal of Master Franz Schmidt, Public Executioner of Nuremberg, 1573-1617:

During the earliest recorded years of the city of Nuremberg, Germany’s history the death penalty seems, after conviction, to have been carried out by the accuser, who strung up the criminal on any suitable tree or post. Sometimes, with an eye to poetic justice, the wrong-doer was made to suffer on the very spot where he had committed the crime. Such a method, however, was soon considered to be incompatible with the dignity of the court that had pronounced judgment; it also brought undesirable odium on the accuser; so that gradually the task devolved on the Züchtiger, an official entrusted with the infliction of torture and of other forms of punishment. The prosecutor was, nevertheless, required to provide or pay for the rope, the fuel for the pyre, and similar necessary items; a regulation that soon became obsolete in practice, although it figures on the statutes as late as the sixteenth century.

The executioner, known as the ‘Mate of Death,’ the Hoher, the Haher, the Suspensor and, later, as the henker, Nachrichter, or, more commonly, the Scharfrichter, was a person of considerable importance as well as infamy. The City records show that it was difficult to find a skilled and, at the same time, reputable practitioner to fill the post. Many of those recruited were mere ruffians who themselves perished on the scaffold. Thus in 1386 Meister Friedrich was burnt alive at Windsheim as a coiner; in 1479 Meister Hans was beheaded for treason by his assistant; in 1503 an executioner killed his Lowe in the course of a quarrel over the rightful division of moneys received for dispatching five criminals. On the other hand, in 1497 Meister Jorg, after many years of office, was made a freeman of the City. Some hangmen seem to have shown comparative humanity, for in 1507 Hans Peck earned a sharp reproof on account of the leniency with which he had treated a poor fellow condemned to the pillory.

The office was not without its dangers. In 1544 hangman Kester was murdered in the presence of a number of peasants, who made no attempt to interfere with, still less to secure, the murderer. It is therefore not surprising to find that some artists, either on this account or from the more respectable motive of humanity, gave up their post.

From about 1350 we have a fairly complete list of the Nuremberg executioners, together with many details respecting their office and careers. Perhaps the most famous, as well as the most respectable of all the sinister list, was Meister Franz Schmidt, author of the diary from which are taken the entries translated in this book. After acting for five years as assistant to his father, who was executioner to the Bishop of Bamberg, Schmidt settled in Nuremberg, where he acted as chief Scharfrichter from 1578 to 1617. During this period, according to his journal, he executed 361 persons and otherwise punished 345 minor criminals; but the record is incomplete.

Executioner Franz Schmidt in action

Schmidt had some education, and also scientific tastes, which led him to dissect a number of his victims. He seems to have been superior to most who practised his revolting trade; a stern man, but not altogether inhuman, and inspired by a grim piety, as his diary shows. His disapproval of harsh punishment for those charged with witchcraft is to his credit, since every infliction of torture and each execution brought him heavy fees. Humane feelings also made him oppose the drowning of women, a practice that often entailed very protracted suffering. At his suggestion, this method was changed into hanging or beheading, a swifter if equally stern procedure.

In 1585 he had the unpleasant duty of executing his brother-in-law by breaking him on the wheel. On his way to the gallows the criminal was punished with the red hot tongs. Only two tweaks were inflicted, the rest being remitted by the Council as a special favor, possibly out of regard for the presumed feelings of Schmidt. The two held a long and apparently edifying discourse of which the condemned man was allowed to embrace his daughter. In the end the conscientious Franz dispatched his relative with no less than thirty-one strokes of the bar.

As a reward for his services, in 1584 Schmidt was granted full pay during life, and his lodgings were thoroughly renovated. He resigned in 1617, on which occasion he notes in his diary that he is once more a “respectable” person.

Culled from: A Hangman’s Diary

Arcane Excerpts: Uh-oh! Edition

Years ago when I was a data entry examiner for Medicare, I read a post-op report detailing a horrible accident that befell a man when he sat down on a chair naked after a shower and a screwdriver became unexpectedly lodged in his rectum!  This is the 1811 version of that story.

This article about a most unfortunate man was culled from the 1811 Eclectic Repertory and Analytical Review.

A gentleman of an inactive and sedentary disposition had for many years suffered from constipated bowels, which increased to that degree that the most active cathartics failed in producing the desired effect. By the advice of a practitioner, whom he consulted in Paris, he daily introduced into the rectum a piece of flexible cane (about a finger’s thickness), where it was allowed to remain until the desire for evacuating the faeces came on. This plan succeeded so well that for more than a twelve month he never had occasion to resort to any other means. One morning, being anxious to fulfil a particular engagement in good time, in his hurry he passed the stick farther up, and with less caution than usual, when it was suddenly sucked up into the body, beyond the reach of his fingers. This accident, however, did not interrupt the free discharge of the faeces, and the same evacuation regularly took place every day, whilst the stick remained in the gut. It was seven days afterwards when I first saw him; he was in a very distressed state, with every symptom of fever, tension of the abdomen, and a countenance expressive of the greatest anxiety. His relatives and friends were totally ignorant of the real nature of his case; and nothing less than the urgency of his sufferings, could ever have prevailed upon him to disclose it to me. Such were his feelings on the occasion, that a violent hysteric fit was brought on by the mere recital of what he termed his folly.

After repeated trials I was at length enabled, with a bougie to feel one extremity of the stick lodged high up in the rectum; but without being able to lay hold of it with the stone forceps. To allay the irritation for the present, an emollient clyster, with tinct. opii.3ij, was given, which passed without the lest impediment, and did not return. On the next examination, two hours after, I found the sphincter ani considerably dilated, and by a continued perseverance to increase it, the relaxation became so complete, that in about twenty minutes I was enabled to introduce one finger after the other, until the whole hand was engaged in the rectum.

I found the end of the stick jammed in the hollow of the sacrum, but by bending the body forward it was readily disengaged, and extracted. Its length was nine inches and a half, with one extremity very ragged and uneven.

For several days after, the situation of the patient was highly critical, the local injury, joined to the perturbation of his mind, brought on symptoms truly alarming. At length I had the satisfaction to witness his complete recovery; and he has ever since (more than two years ago) enjoyed good health, and the regular action of the bowels, without he assistance of medicines, or any other aid.

It’s a miracle cure!! – DeSpair

Garretdom!

Many years ago, a fascinating collection of scrapbooks containing newspaper articles from the 1880’s/90’s appeared on eBay. The scrapbooks were obviously compiled by a kindred soul, as all of the articles were Grim, and were meticulously pasted into old textbooks.  I tried to purchase the collection from the lucky soul who found them at an auction, but he quickly realized what he had and started selling them on eBay where they went for astronomical amounts.  I was able to talk him into making copies of the books for me before he sold them off, and I’ve been slowly using them for my vintage newspaper Garretdom collection over the years.

I enjoyed the daily Andersonville prison entries that I did earlier this year and thought I’d start sharing daily news articles from these fascinating scrapbooks.  I’ll add them to the Garretdom archives, but in most cases I won’t search out vintage illustrations to couple them with, so that I can share them on a daily basis.  So without further delay, here’s today’s article, from 1886:

Incendiaries That Need Lynching.

READING, Sept. 27—The dwelling-house of Mrs. Hettie Schwenk, a widow, near Little Oley, this county, was visited early this morning by incendiaries, who for revenge set fire to the house, which was destroyed, with the contents, involving a loss of $5000. The inmates barely had time to escape. Nothing was saved. Mrs. Schwenk was carried out of the house, and John and Samuel Schwenk jumped from the second-story window. John was badly burned. Recently Mrs. Schwenk was robbed of $300 and is continually harassed by unknown parties.

From the collection of the Comtesse DeSpair
1886 Morbid Scrapbook

Read more grim olde news at Garretdom!

By the way, there are some incendiaries that need lynching right now in California!  (See the Park Fire.)