Asleep on Card Table, Man Has Coughing Fit, Dies

Iowa, 1901

DIES ON A CARD TABLE

WILLIAM HANNAH'S DEMISE IN DELMONICO CLUB ROOMS

So Sudden Was His Passing That Those In the Room With Him Knew Nothing of It Until the Man Was In His Death Struggles — Leaves the Text of a Sermon Written In His Note Book

Several men were gathered in the club room over the Delmonico early yesterday morning. One was lying asleep on the table. Several others had just been out for a lunch, and on returning to the room one of them had brought in with him a very large Newfoundland dog, the big shaggy animal making himself at home near the stove. Suddenly a loud coughing or choking was heard, and Osborn Reynolds cried "Put that dog out. This room is too warm for him."

"It's not the dog; it's 'Ditch,' answered one of the men.

"Wake him up, boys," and two or three of them hurried over to the table to do so.

"My God! He's dead," they cried and the limp form was allowed to fall back. The face was of chalky whiteness, and it was not necessary to call a physician to learn that life had fled, though, of course, a physician was speedily, but uselessly called.

Thus, lying on a card table in a saloon club room, William Hannah died. Not the slightest warning had he; probably not a moment of conscious suffering. His heart had filled up with blood and then refused to work. It was all so sudden that the men about the corpse could hardly realize what had happened.

There was considerable difficulty yesterday in identifying the dead man. He was known to several people but only as "Ditch," this peculiar nickname coming from the fact that he worked at laying tile when he worked at all. The remains were taken to the Boies' undertaking parlors and during the forenoon Coroner Fred Lambach conducted an autopsy. In the afternoon the coroner's inquest was held and a verdict was rendered that William Hannah came to his death by cardiac paralysis. The coroner's jury consisted of M. J. Scandrett, William Schwarnweber, and O. K. Wilson.

A Dead Man's Sermon

"There's no fool like an old fool," wrote Hannah in his note book not long ago, and the quotation is the text of a sermon that the dead man is preaching to his fellow creatures. The rest of his sermon is found in the story of his life. It developed at the inquest that not many months ago William Hannah had come into the possession of some money, inherited from an eastern relative. He came to Davenport and spent most of his time about a card table. At first he was successful. He did not play heavily, but he won, and he grew to love the game. Men who knew him say it was a study to watch the face of "Ditch" when he was handling the pasteboards. It often made them forget their own game. But there came a time when "Ditch" didn't win. Every bit of his money was gone. He had been known to the police for the past two weeks as "broke," and when Dr. Lambach examined his stomach at the autopsy yesterday morning it was learned that no food had been eaten in the last 24 hours. It was probably during this period that the text was written in the note book.

System Much Deranged

Though to outward appearance Hannah was a healthy man, the autopsy showed that his system was very much disordered. His stomach was what is known as a "whisky stomach," though there was no testimony to show that he was a hard drinker. His kidneys were in bad shape. His right lung had grown to his side as the result of an attack of pluerisy. His liver gave evidence of a disease from which few men recover, and all tended to weaken his heart.

At the inquest testimony was taken from Captain Fred Hitchcock, Michael Rourke, P. Phelan. Ed Neils, W. H. Costello, John Cahil, Dr. Porter, who was called at the time of Hannah's death, and Os Reynolds, the proprietor of the place where the man died. From the testimony it was learned that Hannah had been in Gallagher's place in the early evening, that he had gone to the Delmonico about 12 o'clock, and had fallen asleep upon the card table, a habit that he had been more or less regular in of late. No one took any particular notice of him until the fatal coughing fit attracted them.

Hannah had previously lived at Williamsburg, Ia., where it is understood he has a sister. He carried photographs of two men, one young and the other old. He had told some of his acquaintances that they were his brother and father, and lived in California. The dead man was about 35 years of age.

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, Feb. 17, 1901, p. 7.