The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Why was author Agatha Christie so preoccupied with poisons?

Well, in October 1912, 22-year-old Agatha Miller was introduced to Archibald "Archie" Christie, a Royal Artillery officer who was seconded to the Royal Flying Corps in April 1913. They quickly fell in love and got engaged three months after their first meeting.

Archie was sent to France to fight with the outbreak of World War I in August 1914. They married on Dec. 24, 1914 when Archie was on home leave. Like many, Agatha involved herself in the war effort as a member of the Voluntary Aid Detachment of the Red Cross. She worked first as a volunteer nurse then as an apothecary's assistant. 

Her war service ended when Archie was reassigned to London in September 1918 as a colonel in the Air Ministry. Agatha had her only child in 1919 ... and kept writing.

On the morning of July 18, the household at Styles Court wakes to the discovery that Emily Inglethorp, the elderly owner, has died. She had been poisoned with strychnine.

Published just two years after Archie's return, The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie was first published in the United States in October 1920 and in the United Kingdom on Jan. 21, 1921.

Now I ask you, her first published novel used strychnine to kill someone. Did her husband's return from the battlefront inspire her? After all, she did disappear for 11 days in 1926 and possibly tried to frame Archie for her "death." They divorced in 1928. (She married Max Mallowan in September 1930 and that marriage lasted until her death in 1976.)

Agatha later updated her knowledge of poisons during World War II by working at the University College Hospital (UCH), London pharmacy. 

Agatha told journalist Marcelle Bernstein, "I don't like messy deaths ... I'm more interested in peaceful people who die in their own beds and no one knows why." Ironically, Agatha Christie died peacefully at her home at age 85  on Jan. 12, 1976 from natural causes.

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Witness to an execution

A detail of Charley's life that I am currently trying to track down is which execution did he witness while a student journalist at Ohio State. Yes, Charley was invited by a friend at the Columbus Dispatch to witness an execution and he invited grandpa Fred to join them.

Ohio Historical Society

Grandpa declined, thank you very much.

Capital punishment has been a part of Ohio’s frontier justice since it became a state in 1803. An execution was carried out by public hanging in the county where the crime was committed until 1885 when a law was passed that required executions to be carried out at the Ohio Penitentiary in Columbus.

Thankfully only two Hocking County men were hanged in that timeframe: Elias Primmer (the father-in-law of my first cousin, three times removed) in 1856 and Isaac Edwards in 1895.

In 1897, the electric chair, considered to be a more humane form of execution, replaced the gallows in Ohio -- only the second state to do so. (Ohio-born Thomas Edison helped develop it in New York despite being opposed to the death penalty.)

Ohio's chair ultimately had an automatic timer which first sent 1,750 volts through the condemned person's body for 20 seconds, followed by 50 seconds at 600 volts, before finishing with 10 seconds of 1,750 volts.

Known as "Old Sparky" to the public (and "Old Thunderbolt" to inmates) it killed 312 men and three women, beginning with William Haas, 17, of Hamilton County in 1897 and ending with Donald Reinbolt, 29, of Columbus in 1963.

I have narrowed my search to 37 men (slightly more than half of whom were white) who were all convicted of murder and electrocuted between the fall of 1921 and January 31, 1925:

1. Frank Moto, 26, white, Aug. 29, 1921  
2. Sylvester Brown, 27, Black, Sept. 9, 1921 
3. Andrew Davy, 38, white, Sept. 20, 1921 
4. John Cooper, 42, Black, Sept. 30, 1921 
5. Arthur Harding, 38, Black, Feb. 24, 1922
6. Walter Wright, 28, white, March 1, 1922 
7. Harry Bland, 27, white, March 1, 1922 
8. Leroy Tyler, 34, Black, March 3, 1922
9. John McGuire, 30, white, March 3, 1922
10. Roy Champlin, 27, white, March 25, 1922 
11. John Vaiden, 26, Black, May 5, 1922 
12. George Bush, 41, Black, May 5, 1922 
13. Samuel Purpera, 19, white May 9, 1922
14. Dominic Benigno, 26, white, June 14, 1922
15. John Gackenbach, 21, white, June 20, 1922
16. Steve Myeskie, 22, white, June 23, 1922 
17. Ludie Shelton, 24, Black, Jan 26, 1923
18. Charles Habig, 32, white, Feb. 16, 1923
19. Charles Arnold, 64, white, March 2, 1923
20. Henry White, 41, Black, March 2, 1923
21. Stanley Forbes, 27, white, April 13, 1923
22. Noble Holt, 27, white, April 27, 1923
23. James Wellions, 40, Black, July 13, 1923
24. Adam Roberts, 41, Black, Sept. 6, 1923
25. Irvin Layer, 38, white, Nov. 2, 1923
26. John Karayians, 33, white, Dec. 8, 1923
27. Edward Long, 23, white, Jan. 4, 1924
28. John Nelson, 28, Black, Feb. 1, 1924
29. Mike Sipcich, 56, white, Feb. 8, 1924
30. William Hollis, 24, Black, March 28, 1924
31. Clem Head, 31, Black, April 15, 1924
32. Charles Brooks, 52, Black, April 28, 1924
33. Louis Rossi, 35, white, April 29, 1924
34. Vincenzo Caparra, 33, white, June 24, 1924
35. James Avant, 41, Black, Dec. 5, 1924
36. Alexander Kuszik, 19, white, Dec. 12, 1924
37. Joseph Kane, 21, white, Jan. 9, 1925
    

In 1972, the United States Supreme Court declared the death penalty to be unconstitutional. Although Ohio reinstated the death penalty in 1974, it did not resume executions until 1999 and none chose to use the electric chair.

On November 15, 2001, Governor Bob Taft signed House Bill 362 eliminating the electric chair as a form of execution. 

On February 26, 2002, Ohio’s electric chair was decommissioned and finally disconnected from service. The original electric chair was donated to the Ohio Historical Society on December 18, 2002, and a replica electric chair was donated to the Mansfield Reformatory Preservation Society. 

As of 2022, the only method of execution in Ohio is lethal injection.

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Prescription for death

Buerki

I've got some new theories to pursue. Dr. Robert Buerki, professor emeritus at The Ohio State University, wrote about the poisonings for his paper, Prescription for Death: The 1925 Ohio State Poisoning Case, which he presented at the annual meeting for The Ohio Academy of Medical History in 2012. Unable to read it in its entirety until now, I was thrilled to discover it was published in the History of Pharmacy and Pharmaceuticals, Vol. 64, Issue 1, on Jan. 1, 2022. 

While most of his 15-page paper was a summary of previously resourced materials, Buerki did have access to some new information.

"On June 3, Governor Donahey forwarded to Ford an unsigned letter that he had received from 'some unknown source.' The letter added a bizarre note of conspiracy to an already tangled web of circumstances:

'If you really want to know the true inwardness of the poisoning at the University, put your best secret service man on the track of the first student who was taken sick. He can tell you much if he will. Why was he taken to St. Francis Hospital instead of the University Hospital? Why was Dr. McCampbell called about the case? The plot was against one man but it hit the wrong man. Who wanted a safe from the dental department "to keep all the strichnine [sic] in?"

'Who has been after Dr. Wingert for years and says he will drive him off campus? The fear of punishment for unintentional murder is keeping mouths closed, but it can be traced.

'The pressure is now on to let the matter drop 'because it will injure the University.' The inside facts can only injure the plotters. You are surrounded by athletic influences. Consult some others not under their control."

Ross

So is this "unknown source" referring to Robert H. Ross of Bellevue, Ohio? Ross became ill on Tuesday, Jan. 27, 1925. He was diagnosed with food poisoning at the time and was the first to become ill according to my timeline.

McCarthy

Or is the writer talking about Timothy "Big Tim" McCarthy, a sophomore on the varsity football team who, as far as I know, was the only man rushed to St. Francis Hospital? He was also the last known person to get sick on Feb. 2, 1925.

Hmm.

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The ripple effect

I know I haven't posted in an extremely long time but I truly haven't found anything new to share until today. While scrolling through my multiple news feeds this morning I found an article on CNN about Kasia Janus and her father's murder by cyanide in Chicago 40 years ago.

Like many, I knew the outline -- seven deaths in a 24-hour period when someone managed to slip contaminated capsules into bottles at Chicago area pharmacies. Believe me, it wouldn't have been hard 40 years ago. Packaging was nowhere near as safe as it is now, thanks to the Federal Anti-Tampering Act of 1982.

But I don't think I knew the specifics, especially that 4-year-old Janus also lost her uncle and aunt within that 24-hour period. That blew my mind. I know how my family has struggled over the years with Uncle Charley's murder, but to lose three members? It beggars belief.

What drove me to tears was the description of 4-year-old Janus whispering in her father's ear, "Tata, it's me. I know you're playing a game. Just wake up."

I couldn't help but think of my own frantic grandfather as he watched his beloved older brother die while in the violent throes of strychnine poisoning.

Did he beg Charley not to die? Did he call him by childhood nicknames in the forlorn hope that something, anything, would stop the nightmare?

To read that her uncle and aunt catastrophically took Tylenol for their headaches after they came over to comfort Janus, her mother, and her brother made me think of Grandpa and how he nearly took a capsule himself which later tested 100 percent positive for strychnine.

They died. Grandpa only lived because the doctor called him back into the bedroom for Charley's final death throes.

I have reached out to Janus, but doubt I'll hear back. In the meantime, prayers are ascending for those who are victims of violent crimes. 

Time, most certainly, does not heal all wounds.

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