The Death of George Dorsey

Weston State Hospital, aka Trans-Allegheny 
Lunatic Asylum, 1908
Source: RootsWeb

TALA Tales: A Collection of Articles from the Weston State Hospital

"Where there's a will, there's a way." That old adage is one I've heard all my life and is usually meant as a pep talk. You can do anything you put your mind to, if you just try hard enough. Such a positive message...except when it comes to the will to commit certain acts. Today's blog is another unfortunate tale from the Weston State Hospital, currently known as the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. A young man, despite receiving treatment for his melancholia and suicidal threats was able to secure the means to end his own life.

George Dorsey, born around October of 1886, was the son of Wilbur and Amelia Dorsey. The Dorseys, despite being a prominent family in the Morgantown area, had divorced several years prior. George was living with his mother in Monongalia County, while his father resided in Pennsylvania. 

It is said that George was always a rather despondent, melancholy person, who had often made threats to end his own life. His condition became so bad, that it was decided that it would be in his best interest to be admitted to the state hospital in Weston. He was only 21 years old. 

Dorsey's Grave in Oak Grove Cemetery
Photo by Find-a-Grave
contributor, Rhonda 

It's unclear just how long George resided at the state hospital, but it was clear that whatever treatment he was receiving wasn't working. George had planned on taking his own life by drinking two bottles of ink he had gotten ahold of...but fate would intervene. One day, George was poking around the room of an attendant at the hospital and found a shot gun. Hidden in a trunk was the cartridge.

George decided this would be a much surer way to end it all than drinking ink, so he loaded the gun, held the barrel to his chest, and pulled the trigger. The bullet went just south of his heart, initially sparing his life. He was conscious, talking, and expected to survive his wounds. But again, fate would intervene. On September 21, 1908, George Dorsey died of a hemorrhage. His mother and brother came to collect his body and bring it home for burial. He is interred in the family plot at Oak Grove Cemetery in Morgantown. 

George Dorsey, despite having his whole life ahead of him, and a good family name to back him up, was determined that he should not be long for this world. In 1908, there really weren't any good treatment options for those suffering so severely from depression.  Overcrowding and lack of attendants had also been an issue at the asylum for a long time, but this was a tragedy that seems like it could have so easily been prevented with proper safety and security protocols. But, George also had a backup plan with the ink, and if that didn't work, would have surely found another way. One can only hope that George is finally at peace, a peace not afforded to him during his brief time on earth. 

The Daily Telegram (Clarksburg, WV)
17 September 1908

The Daily Telegram (Clarksburg, WV)
22 September 1908

George Dorsey Death Register
Note: Last name listed as 'Daisy'
Source: WV Vital Statistics

Fred Fizer and the WV State Penitentiary

WV State Prison (1914)
Source: WV History on View

Hey, everyone! It's been a while. Between illness and a bunch of other stuff going on, I haven't found the time to keep up with the blog. But this evening that changes with a history-based entry on one of West Virginia's most haunted hot spots: The West Virginia State Penitentiary!

Fred Fizer was a 34-year-old husband and father to four small children, living near Martinsburg in Berkeley County. However, something snapped in the relatively young man, and he was convicted of malicious wounding due to an attack on his 14-year-old housekeeper, Ottie Myers, as well as C.T. Beatty, with whom the young girl was seeking refuge when driven from the Fizer home. Myers was shot with a pistol, but after a prolonged hospital stay, survived her injuries. Fizer's lawyers tried to enter a plea of insanity, but that was rejected, and Fizer was sentenced to four years at the WV State Penitentiary in Moundsville.

After only a month or so of confinement at the prison, Fred Fizer made a difficult decision. On Monday, June 29, 1914, he took his own life in his cell. When he was found the next morning, staff were perplexed at the strange way Fizer managed to complete the deed. He had used his underclothing to fashion a rope. With one side looped around his neck and the other tied securely to the top of his cell, Fizer found that there wasn't enough room for him to actually hang himself. So, he leaned forward vertically and slowly strangled himself, an act estimated to have taken hours to complete.  Warden Brown stated that Fizer really hadn't been on his radar, but that a few members of the staff did mention that he was having difficulties adjusting to prison life.

Meanwhile back in Martinsburg, Fizer's wife, Valley, received a rather terse telegram stating that her husband was dead and if she wanted his body, please send $40. If not, he'd be buried in the prison burial yard. His body was brought home and laid to rest, with many of his old friends and neighbors convinced that Fred HAD been insane.

The story doesn't end there, however. Not long after his death, a letter made its way out of the prison, presumably from another inmate. This inmate claimed that Fizer couldn't "make task." That basically meant that he was having trouble keeping up with the physical demands of labor given to the inmates. As a result, he was locked in the 'dungeon' for several days with his wrists handcuffed. It is here in the dungeon where he took his life. 

The letter made it to Governor Hatfield, who amazingly took it seriously. By September, local newspapers were announcing that sweeping prison reforms were underway, sparked by the tragic and unfortunate end of Fred Fizer. 

The Wheeling Intelligencer
1 July 1914

The Fairmont West Virginian
18 September 1914

Ouija Board Weather

 

Brrrr....!

The tri-state is still largely buried under snow and suffering through below freezing temperatures. Winter Storm Blair really kicked our butt, but I'm lucky to say that I've been safe and warm at home, with plenty to eat and plenty to keep me occupied. 

More snow could be coming Monday, but the forecast keeps changing. As of right now, it doesn't look like it'll be much, but this weekend could be another story. Sometimes I think that the meteorologists trying to predict these snowstorms, as well as many other weather-related events, would be just as much, if not MORE accurate if they stopped using fancy DOPLER radar and other technology and just went back to basics (basics in this case meaning something a little different). 

In this photo, found on the Talking Board Historical Society website, two members of the United States Weather Bureau use a Magic 8 Ball and a Ouija Board. The photo is dated 1965. Maybe these two just got bored on the job and wanted to play a parlour game. Maybe they thought their station was haunted and wanted to connect with the spirits therein. Or, maybe...they were using these tools to predict what Mother Nature had in store for us all! 

Disappearing Lady of Mount Hope: A Friday Fright Bite

Approximately where the ghostly woman 
would end her pilgrimage.
Source: Coal Heritage Trail Clio Article

When Mrs. Leona May Harvey Parks walked into columnist Shirley Donnelly's office to get a book signed, I'm guessing she didn't expect the two would end up discussing ghost stories! But, when Donnelly realized that Mrs. Parks had lived in Mount Hope (Fayette County) for a number of years, he asked her to clarify some information on a spooky sighting in the area.

According to Mrs. Parks, the sightings began around 1909-1910. Multiple witnesses reported that when walking south along Main Street, they'd notice a woman walking in front of them. This woman would only appear on a stretch of road between the Christian Church and the steps that led off the street to the railroad tracks (approximately where the block of coal sat at the time of this telling). 

As soon as the ghostly woman reached that top step, she would simply vanish. If anyone were brave enough to try to touch her, her ghostly form would "slither away" and vanish. She was never seen elsewhere in town, and she was always headed south. Mrs. Parks noted that no one had any theory as to who the phantom could be, or why she chose to repeat this route, over and over. 

I think it's important to note that during the time of these sightings, Mount Hope was nearly completely destroyed by fire. On the morning of March 24, 1910, fire started in the Lewis & Houcks Saloon on Main Street. (THIS BLOG has a wonderful collection of articles and information on the fire.) Within a few hours, the majority of businesses along this stretch were gone, and countless residents were left homeless. Was this woman in some way connected to this tragic fire, perhaps as a harbinger of doom? Or was she the spirit of some unknown person whose life was taken in the blaze? Although the newspapers of the time claim that there were no fatalities, it is possible that an unknown woman in town was missed....

Beckley Post Herald
8 December 1973

Path of Ghost through
Mount Hope

Dr. Humphreys and the Civil War Ape

1920 was an interesting year for those living in Pocahontas, Greenbrier, and Monroe Counties. From October through December, multiple newspapers reported multiple eye-witness accounts of what was originally called an 'ape, baboon, gorilla, wild man, or terror' by the Shepherdstown Register. What was believed to be an escaped gorilla with a broken chain around its neck was chiefly seen around Black Mountain, and also around Flat Mountain. Witnesses, including a woman who claimed the beast tried to get inside her house, were pretty sure it was a half-tame gorilla, around 6 feet tall, 350lbs, with reddish-blackish fur. So, nothing paranormal to see here, right?

Right, but the widespread interest in these events sparked a rather interesting story to come to light. On December 31, 1920, the Greenbrier Independent published a very strange tale from the revered Dr. Milton Humphreys. After a lengthy biography of Humphreys, the newspaper reprinted the story as told to the Monroe Watchman. It comes from when Humphreys served the Confederacy with Bryan's Battery and was encamped near Princeton, WV, although the sightings themselves seem to come from an area of nearby Virginia known as the Narrows of the New River. I'm not sure what the heck these witnesses saw, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't an escaped gorilla...

Here's that portion of the article in his own words:

"In the fall of 1863 the 36th and 60th Va. Regiments and Bryan's Battery were encamped at Princeton. Sergeant A.A. McAllister and Corporal James F. Clark, both of whom were from Covington, obtained furloughs. McAllister took his horse with him and they rode time about. When they returned to camp they told me that they had seen a panther. Questioning them as to the details I saw that it could not have been a panther. They stated that they had never seen a panther before and merely inferred that this was one because they had never seen an animal like it. Their description of it will be given presently.

A year and several months afterwards, in the mid-winter of 1864-5 the 13th Battallion Va. Artillery, consisting of Bryan's, Chapmans, and Lowry's Batteries, was in winter quarters just above the Narrows of New River on the Left Bank. There were two men in Bryan's Battery named Weaver----Aylette and John C. One of these, I'm not sure which (not that I have forgotten the men, but only which was John and which was Aylette) was telling ghost stories one night as actual facts. I ridiculed him for even believing in ghosts, and he challenged me to go with him only two or three miles before day and promised to show me a ghost or supernatural being between early dawn and sunrise. I promptly accepted the challenge, but Weaver changed his mind and said he would not go unless there were several men in the party and some arms. There were several men in the cabin and Weaver proceeded to narrate what we would witness if we would go with him. (Just here I should say that he had previously served in the cavalry and had only recently been transferred to the artillery.) Without pretending to reproduce his actual words, I shall give their substance using the first personal pronoun to denote him. 

'You know,' he said, 'down just below the Narrows there begins a stretch of level land about a mile long and maybe a quarter of a mile wide at the middle tapering off to a point at the lower end where the road starts up the mountain. It is bounded on the right by the river and on the left by a mountain or bluff. About two years ago, the cavalry command to which I belonged was stationed here to guard the Narrows and a picket of several men was kept at the lower end of this strip of level land to watch the road where it comes down the mountain. I was several times on this duty and witnessed what I am going to tell. Regularly between early dawn and broad day, and between sunset and dark one or the other of two things happened. One of them was as follows: We would hear a great rumbling up in the mountain and presently a man on a horse would come down through the woods and descend the bluff almost vertically, across the road, pass along by a big log making the earth tremble all the while, until they reached a bunch of alders beside the log and there they suddenly vanished just as a light goes out. The other thing that happened sometimes was this: We would hear the same awful rumbling, and instead of a man and a horse, a beast would appear and pursue the same course till he reached the road, and then he would sit down as a dog sits, in a certain fence corner, always the same one, for fifteen or twenty minutes, then he would go to the log and walk on it till he reached the bunch of alders, when he would suddenly vanish. He was the most terrible thing I ever saw---rough, bony, knotty, of a tawny color, and his head and face just enough like a man's to make him perfectly horrible. Once a large number of men waited for him with loaded carbines; but when he came making the earth tremble at every step, no man dared to fire on him.'

Such was Weaver's story. McAllister was in camp and I am fairly sure Clark was also. I went at once and brought them (certainly McAllister) and questioned them without their knowing anything about Weaver's story, and brought out the fact that the animal they saw was sitting in a fence corner looking across the road and was exactly as Weaver had described him, and that the place was the same. I asked what time of day it was when they passed the animal, and brought out the fact that the sun had just set and they were hastening to reach the ford a mile away before darkness set in. 

A great storm came that night and next day when we were trying our one small arm, an Enfield rifle, it burst in the hands of young John E. Lewis hurting him severely. Before we could procure other arms the drivers (including Weaver) were sent home with their horses. Before they returned, Richmond fell, and the Battalion marched to Dublin. Our guns had been left in Lynchburg. 

I have no theory as to what the animal was that McAllister and Clark saw, nor how the remarkable agreement between the facts and part of Weaver's story is to be explained; only I am sure that there was no collusion among the men concerned.

Milton W. Humphreys

Monroe Watchman"

Greenbrier Independent
31 December 1920

The Haunted Hatfield Cemetery

Levisa Hatfield, wife of Devil Anse

Even those far removed from the tri-state area are familiar with one of the most famous feuds in history: The Hatfields vs. McCoys. With such a long and violent history, there has to be more than a few ghost stories associated with these two warring families, and one such story in particular involves the final resting place of much of the Hatfield clan.

Located in the Sarah Ann area of Logan County, the Hatfield family cemetery sits high up on a hill. Overlooking generations of Hatfields stands an imposing statue of William Anderson "Devil Anse" Hatfield, the family patriarch. The statue faces Island Creek and is oriented with his back "forever turned upon the Tug Fork Country and the McCoys".

"Devil Anse" was born on September 9, 1839. The reason for his colorful nickname is unknown, but plenty of theories have been put forth, including it being a testament to his bravery during his service to the Confederate Army during the Civil War. As part of his allegiance to the cause, Devil Anse helped found a group of Home Guards, known as the Logan Wildcats, to protect the Tug Fork area. This group was responsible for the murder of a member of the McCoy family, home on medical leave from the Union. Although relations between the two families were already rocky, this act of violence further fueled the feud.

Hatfield Family Cemetery ca 1925
Source: WV History on View

After the war, Devil Anse bought up some land in the area, and became prominent in the timber business...as well as in the illegal moonshining business. Meanwhile, the feud between the families raged on, resulting in his being complicit in several additional murders of McCoys.  On September 23, 1911 he publicly tried to turn his image around and was baptized by the famous mountain preacher, William Garrett in nearby Island Creek. 

On January 6, 1921, Devil Anse succumbed to pneumonia in his Sarah Ann home. But, even the grave couldn't keep ol' Devil Anse down. 

It is said that on dark and foggy nights, the spirit of Devil Anse steps down off his tombstone pedestal and rallies his men, mainly his nine sons, and makes his way down the hillside. Drivers going past the cemetery have seen a group of men congregating by the small bridge near the cemetery sign. Here, the spirits await William Garrett to also arise from his grave, where he baptizes them in the small creek. Upon their posthumous baptism, washing away their sins, the spirits disappear, only to repeat the process over and over through time.

Sources and Further Reading:

Devil Anse Hatfield Wikipedia

WV Ghosts and Legends

Find-a-Grave: Hatfield Family Cemetery

Jessie Starcher: A WV State Pen Tragedy

Beckley Post-Herald
03 October 1951

Jessie/Jesse James Starcher was barely out of his teens when he was sent to the West Virginia State Penitentiary at Moundsville. The coal driller from Richwood, WV was found guilty of grand larceny/forgery and sentenced to serve 2 to 10 years in the penitentiary. 

However, prison life didn't seem to suit Mr. Starcher. Although he was a trusted enough prisoner to join a prison road camp, on May 1, 1949, Mr. Starcher walked away from that camp, which was located just outside of Charleston, WV. For over a month, Starcher wandered from state to state. On June 5, he was arrested in Youngstown, OH for public intoxication. With his conscience getting the better of him, he admitted to police that he was an escaped prisoner from WV. Apparently, the officers thought this was merely 'drunk talk,' and sent him on his way, telling him to "go home."

Instead of heading back home to West Virginia, he made his way to Cleveland to visit his sister. The following day, she accompanied him to the police station, again where he attempted to turn himself in to Detectives Michael Gaynor and Carl Roberts. He was held in custody until it was confirmed that yes, he WAS missing from the state penitentiary. He claimed that he escaped because after serving 16 months of his sentence, he was afraid he wouldn't be paroled until 1953.

Unfortunately, none of the news articles I could find explained Starcher's thought process. He was originally sentenced from 2 to 10 years. That means he only had eight months to go before the lower end of his sentence was up. He was obviously trusted enough that he was put on work detail in another part of the state! Why did he panic...and why was he so scared of that arbitrary 'middle' date of 1953? He surely had to know that should he be caught, an escape attempt would not fare well for his case. 

Whatever his reasoning, Starcher was sent back to the WV State Penitentiary. On October 2, 1951, however, he would attempt a different method of escape. That morning, he attended his regular on-site work detail but asked to go to his cell early because he wasn't feeling well. When a guard checked on him 45 minutes later, he was found in his South Hall cell, hanging from his belt. The time of death listed on his death certificate was 12:05pm. 

Jesse James Starcher was sent home to Richwood to be buried. Born September 30, 1928, he was the son of Leonard Starcher. 

The Plain Dealer (Cleveland, OH)
07 June 1949

Death Certificate for Jesse James Starcher
WV State Archives