December 12, 1886

A PUZZLE FOR SCIENTISTS.

A Man and Boy who Bark and Bite Without Any Apparent Cause.

CHICAGO, Dec. 12.–About two weeks ago Harry Gibson, a hotel bell-boy, was taken to the insane department of the county jail suffering from a malady which seemed at times to resemble hydrophobia. It cannot be ascertained that young Gibson was ever bitten by a dog, either rabid or otherwise, yet he snapped his teeth and growled at people, frothed at the mouth, and in every way gave evidence of suffering from rabies. It was at first supposed that his malady was brought on from a serious injury he received from falling and striking his head on an iron staircase. A new and mysterious phase of the case has developed, and is worrying the physicians. Before Gibson’s removal to the jail he was cared for at the hotel, and a porter named John Heilland was detailed to watch him. He would argue with the attendant in a most rational manner, saying there was no necessity for his being watched, but the moment the attendant turned his back Gibson would leap upon him and endeavor to bite him.

After Gibson’s removal Heilland was relieved from the duty of caring for the patient. He went to his room, and spent the next forenoon in sleep. When he went to work he complained to his fellow-porters of feeling ill, but thought nothing serious of it. The day following, however, he was attacked with the same symptoms manifested by young Gibson, and became violently mad and unmanageable. He frothed at the mouth and acted like a person having hydrophobia, though at times he was perfectly rational. He declares he was not bitten by Gibson, and had not been bitten by a dog. The attacks recur at regular intervals each day. The cases will be thoroughly investigated.

From the Collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
The 1886 Morbid Scrapbook

I tried finding a follow-up article about this case but couldn’t.  If anyone out there can track this one down to find out that they probably both died of rabies, I will send you a special morbid gift.

December 12, 1887

The Grim Reaper’s Relentless Work.

MOUNT CARMEL, Pa., Dec. 12.–Singular fatality has for the past few months followed the family of Daniel Wertman, residing at Derrs, Columbia county. A few months ago Mrs. Wertman died, and a short time afterward her husband succumbed to the shock. The daughter, Minnie, aged twenty, was taken ill while attending her father’s funeral and died four days later, and yesterday the physicians gave up all hope of the recovery of the son, Freeman, aged twenty-one, who had been prostrated by the sudden taking away of his father, mother and sister.

From the Collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
The 1887 Morbid Scrapbook

Chico Courant (Chico, California)
Saturday, November 25, 1865

DIED. – Far away from home, relatives and friends among strangers, with no one to shed a parting tear, with strangers to smooth his dying pillow, another unfortunate Californian passed on to the silent land, the land of forgetfulness, the land of the departed.  Joseph Coburn, a private in Company II, Ninth U.S. Regular Infantry, on the march to Summit Lake, was taken sick, was left at the Chico Hotel in this place, being unable to proceed farther; received all the care and attention that could be bestowed; lingered until Friday night, the 18th inst., when he died.  He was about 22 year old, enlisted in San Francisco about one year ago; not being in his right mind the most of the time, his native place could not be learned, but from expressions made use of in his wandering moods, it is supposed he was a native of New York, residing in the vicinity of Niagara Falls.  An anxious waiting mother, there may be, who for years will listen for the returning footsteps of the absent boy, little dreaming that he sleeps the long sleep of death in the Valley of the Sacramento.  There may be sisters and brothers who will gather around the old hearthstone at home, and when the storm beats without, and the tempest howls around the old homestead, wonder where the absent one is, and why he does not return.  the storms may beat around his dwelling and he heeds them not; heat and cold, summer and winter are all the same to him now.  When one dies thus alone in a strange land and among strangers, we think of the many notices which appear almost daily of “INFORMATION WANTED,” some friend inquiring for the lost one.  How many have laid down to die on hill and plain, mountain and valley, gulch and ravine, all over the Pacific Coast with nothing to mark the spot where they sleep, and not a word concerning their fate ever transmitted to relatives or friends.  What waifs we are, floating on the ocean of time, engulfed to-day and forgotten to-morrow.

From the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair

Steele Scrapbook – January 27, 1886

Raided From The Tombs Of Alf

February 1, 1892

From the collection of The Comtesse DeSpair
The 1892 Morbid Scrapbook

Steele Scrapbook – 1886

Raided From The Tombs Of Alf

Steele Scrapbook – January 4, 1886

Snatched From A Paralyzed Alf

Steele Scrapbook – May 22, 1885

Raided From The Tombs Of Alf