Death by Starvation

1895

How It Feels to Go, Day After Day, Without Anything to Eat.

For the first two days through which a strong and healthy man is doomed to exist upon nothing his sufferings are perhaps more acute than in the remaining stages. He feels an inordinate, unspeakable craving at the stomach night and day. The mind runs upon beef, bread and other substances, but still, in a great measure, the body retains its strength.

On the third and fourth days, but especially on the fourth, this incessant craving gives place to a sinking and weakness of the stomach, accompanied by nausea. The unfortunate sufferer still desires food, but with a loss of strength he loses that eager craving which is felt in the earlier stages.

Should he chance to obtain a morsel or two of food he swallows it with a wolfish avidity. But five minutes afterward his sufferings are more intense than ever. He feels as if he had swallowed a living lobster, which is clawing and feeding upon the very foundation of his existence.

On the fifth day his cheeks suddenly appear hollow and sunken, his body attenuated, his color is ashy pale and his eyes wild, glassy and cannibalistic. The different parts of the system now war with each other. The stomach calls upon the legs to go with it in quest of food; the legs, from weakness, refuse.

The sixth day brings with it increased suffering, although the pangs of hunger are lost in an overpowering languor and sickness. The head becomes giddy; the ghosts of well remembered dinners pass in hideous processions through the mind.

The seventh day comes, bringing increased lassitude and further prostration of strength. The arms hang listlessly; the legs drag heavily. The desire for food is still left, to a degree, but it must be brought, not sought. The miserable remnant of life which hangs to the sufferer is a burden almost too grievous to be borne. Yet his inherent existence induces a desire still to preserve it if it can he saved without a tax on bodily exertion.

The mind wanders. At one moment he thinks his weary limbs cannot sustain him a mile; the next he is endowed with unnatural strength, and, if there be a certainty of relief before him, dashes bravely and strongly forward, wondering whence proceeds his new and sudden impulse. — New York Dispatch.

Hog Fasts 100 Days

Alabama, 1912

Mobile, Alabama — Pinned under the ruins of a church near Evergreen, Ala., which had blown down on February 21st, a hog was found yesterday alive, and, while weakened from the long imprisonment, was able to eat and drink. The animal was more than 100 days without food and water, perhaps a record for fasts.

—The Syracuse Herald, Syracuse, NY, June 10, 1912, p. 16.

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.

Fried Chicken Too Much for Negro Hunger Strike

1913

Elizabeth, N. J., July 18. — The manner in which Warden Charles W. Dodd of the county jail broke up a hunger strike today may set a useful example, he thinks, to keepers of English prisons who become custodians of suffragettes.

William Turner, a negro prisoner incarcerated last Sunday, sought to gain his liberty by refusing to eat. This morning the negro had been forty-eight hours without food, when Warden Dodd appeared at the cell with a steaming plate of fried chicken and a large section of a juicy watermelon. One sniff and Turner's hunger strike came to an abrupt end.

—The Evening News, Ada, Oklahoma, July 18, 1913, p. 1.

Hunting Giraffes – Out and About With The Kafirs One Day

1878

Hunting the Giraffe

A writer says: Giraffes, if not hard pressed, do not go at any great pace, so that before long we were within one hundred yards of them. Even in the ardor of the chase it struck me as a glorious sight to see these huge beasts dashing along in front, clattering over the stones or bursting a passage through opposing bushes, their long, graceful necks stretched forward, sometimes bent almost to the ground to avoid horizontal branches, and their bushy black tails twisted up. And how easily, and with how little exertion they seemed to get over the ground with that long, sweeping stride of theirs! Yet they were going at a great rate, for I felt that my old nag was doing his best, and I could not now lessen the distance between us by an inch.

I now saw that D. was about to make a push, and, as the horse he was riding was pretty fast, I knew that he would press them into a much quicker pace and leave me behind altogether; so, reining in at once, I jumped off, and, taking as steady aim as my arm, tired with flogging, would allow, fired at a large dark colored cow that looked to me in good condition. The bullet clapped loudly and I saw her stagger, but, recovering immediately, she went on, though slightly in the rear of the troop. At this moment my friend jumped off close behind them and gave another cow a shot.

I was now a long way behind, but my horse, though slow, possessed good staying powers; so that, by dint of keeping on a hard gallop and cutting angles when I could, I again crept up and gave my cow another shot, quickly followed by a third, which brought her to the ground with a crash. She was not dead, however, for as I approached she raised her lofty head once more and gazed reproachfully at me with her large soft, dark eyes. A pang of remorse went through me, and for an instant I wished the shots unfired that had laid low this beautiful and inoffensive creature.

But now the cries of my Kafirs and Masaras, following like famished wolves on the blood spoor, broke upon my ear; so, stifling the still small voice, I again raised my rifle and put an end to the miseries of my victim, whose head, pierced with a two-ounce ball, fell with a thud upon the ground, never to be raised again. Leaving some of the boys to cut up the meat I rode on with the rest to look for my friend, whom I found beside another prostrate giraffe, which he had killed a little further on. As the one I had shot was the fatter of the two officers, we left the Kafirs here and went back to mine.

It was now late; so, hastily dividing the boys into two parties, and bidding them sleep by the two giraffes respectively and cut them up and bring in the meat the following day, we started for the wagons with our gun carriers, who also carried a few of the fattest bits of meat. I may here remark that it is difficult to imagine anything more tasty and succulent than a steak of a young giraffe cow when in good condition, though it may be that hunger, the sauce with which I have always eaten it, had something to do with this opinion.

Wicked Humor — A Great Satire On The Ways of Tramps

1878

A Sarcastic Mendicant

"I'm very hungry," said a haggard tramp, with very red eyes, as he stood obsequiously at the side entrance of a Court street house. "Won't you please, ma'am, be so good as to give me a little something to eat? Anything will do — odds and ends — cold or warm — it don't matter, for I'm not one of them high-toned fellers."

"My husband has forbidden me to encourage idleness by giving away any more provisions," replied the lady of the house. " He says you fellows have a sort of Free Masonry way of letting others know every house at which you have been fed, and it is sure to bring a troop of lazy vagabonds upon us who would starve before they'd lift a hand to work. So you will have to move on and get your breakfast some place else."

"But I'm not a vagabond, ma'am; I'm a hard-working, industrious man. I came up on a boat from Memphis to see my sick mother who lives out near Camden, and isn't expected to live. I was robbed on the boat of every cent I had and all my clothes, while I was in bed. The captain gave me these old things. I don't like to beg, but Camden is a good stretch from here, and I can't walk it on an empty stomach. Think of the outstretched arms of a poor sick mother toward her absent child, and put wings on my feet with a few cold potatoes. I'm just at that point where I can eat 'em without salt."

"I can't do it. They all have a story about like that. The last man I fed had to go to Columbus inside of twenty-four hours to save an innocent man from hanging, but two days afterward I saw him down town so drunk he couldn't hold his mouth shut."

"Well, I never drink. If I hadn't been robbed I could show you my Murphy ribbon that I've worn till it's raveled into strings. Long years ago I swore at my mother's bended knee — the same one who moans on her couch of pain because I'm not with her — that I would never touch the blighting cup, and I hain't, from that time up to this minute. Can't you help me to get there in time to comfort her declining hours with the joyful tidings that I have been steadfast through all temptation, by giving me the cold grub you had intended to dump into the garbage box? I'm awful hungry."

"I can't help it. I must obey my husband — his orders were positive," said the woman, snappishly.

"Well, you're the most extraordinary woman I ever saw if you do. But say, can't you give me the paper the beefsteak was brought home in, to chew as I go along. It may fool my stomach for awhile and make it brace up by thinking something better will be along presently. You'll do that much toward easing a fond parent's anxious heart, won't you?"

"No, I won't."

"Well, then give me a newspaper and let me sit by the fire and read the advertisement of a meat market, and show me the place where it tells all about provisions. Even that would give me a feast — for the imagination — which has been about the extent of my living lately. You won't believe it, maybe, but it's a fact, that all the nourishment I've had for two days is the bill of fare painted on the outside of the Fifth-street restaurant. Can you think of that and keep your stale bread on the inside of your cupboard?"

"Yes, I can; and I want you to make yourself scarce without any more palaver, or I shall send my boy to call a policeman," exclaimed the indignant woman.

"Even the photograph of a chicken would be some comfort," said the man, by way of banter, as he moved off, "and if you don't use soap in your dishwater a few potatoes sliced up in it would be regular barbecue for me." — Cincinnati Breakfast Table.

Civil War Veteran Starves to Death

1912

TOO PROUD TO BEG; STARVES TO DEATH

By the United Press Associations.

Chicago, Ill., Dec. 17.—Harry West, 70, a veteran of the civil war, was found starved to death in a little room in a lodging house today. In his hand was clasped a button of the Grand Army of the Republic. He had been too proud to ask help.


YOUTHFUL SKATER DIES IN LAKE WINNEBAGO

Menasha, Wis., Dec. 17.—Paul Marx 11 years old, was drowned in Lake Winnebago when he skated into an air hole. Nothing was known of the accident until twenty-four hours later when a boy companion who was with the Marx boy at the time notified Mr. and Mrs. Marx. The body has been recovered.


CRIPPLE DROWNS

Necedah, Wis., Dec. 17. — Charles McGuire a cripple, 17 years old, was drowned through the ice on the Yellow river. He was pushing himself about the ice on a sled and it is supposed crashed through thin ice.

—The Daily Commonwealth, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, December 17, 1912, page 1.

Swindlers at Police Station Pose as Detectives

1920

Crooks Pose as Detectives and Get $125 From Grocer

HOBOKEN, N. J. -- Police headquarters was chosen by two daring swindlers as the most convenient place to defraud Harold Bonnell, a Milburn, N. Y., grocer, of $125.

The men, posing as detectives, induced Bonnell to go to headquarters under the ruse that his money was counterfeit.

Arriving at the station, the "detectives" excused themselves on a pretext. Bonnell, after waiting an hour for their return, explored the building and finally unfolded his tale to the astonished lieutenant at the desk.


Starved Self to Feed Dog

Women With Income Makes Strange Sacrifice for Pet

REIGATE, England -- A strange story was told at an inquest here of a woman named Giles, aged 66, of independent means, who according to medical evidence, died from pleurisy, accelerated by starvation, the body being very emaciated. It was stated that she lived alone and was of eccentric habits. She had an income of $50 a month, but it was said that most of it was spent in feeding her dog.

--The Saturday Blade, Chicago, March 27, 1920, page 2.

She Has Plenty of Money, But Denies Self Food

1911

DENIES SELF FOOD; FORTUNE IN BANK

Supposedly Poor and Needy Cleveland Woman Found Out

Cleveland, May 23.—Weak and tottering from lack of food, Mrs. Jennie Scully, aged fifty-two years, was ejected a few days ago from her room in east Nineteenth street. She was cared for by friends and later was removed to the City hospital. Hers was evidently a pitiable plight until the board of charities and corrections learned that the woman was comparatively wealthy and had deliberately starved herself almost to death.

Inspection of her effects in her former apartments revealed a bag containing $5 in gold and passbooks of the Society for Savings indicating she had on deposit since 1899 the sum of $1,965.25, and in the Monroe County Savings bank of Rochester, N. Y. $2,031.23. On her person was found $278.95 in cash.

Hidden in her room were mortgages and bonds amounting to thousands of dollars, the former on property in this city, and tax receipts indicating the woman possessed large property interests.

—Indiana Evening Gazette, Indiana, Pennsylvania, May 23, 1911, page 3.

Hospital Patient, Clad in Nightie, Hides Sixty Hours in a Coal Bin

1920

MINNEAPOLIS, Minn. -- Barefooted, with only a nightshirt covering his body, Marlow Hutchins, 52 years old, who escaped from the Minneapolis General Hospital, hid in a coal bin and defied the March weather, but succumbed to hunger. He gave himself up and was returned to the hospital, after being out in the cold sixty hours.

"I didn't mind the cold, but I had to get something to eat," he told physicians.

When Hutchins eluded the hospital attendants he managed to make his way without being seen or reported, to the northern part of the city, where he crawled into a coal bin. he lay there quietly, he said, until he was driven out by starvation.

Physicians said that Hutchins was in a serious condition. His feet, from walking barefoot in the snow and ice, had been frozen, and he was suffering from exposure.

Hutchins escaped from the hospital when he cut the straps, which bound him to the bed, with the rough edge of a tin cup, and leaped from an upper window. He was being treated for a nervous disease and had been delirious.

When Hutchins could not endure hunger any longer, he came out into the street, where he was seen by a man driving an automobile.

"Please take me to the hospital," he pleaded.

The man, who did not give his name, wrapped the nightshirt-clad man in a robe and drove him to the hospital.

"I hated to go out before," Hutchins said. 'I was almost seen many times before I hid in the coal bin. Men passed close to me many times, but I dodged and didn't let any one see me."

--The Saturday Blade, Chicago, March 27, 1920, page 1.