Glore Psychiatric Museum

Glore Psychiatric Museum (St. Joseph, Missouri)

A Glore-ious Place!

Glore Psychiatric Museum
April 21, 2001

Those who know my morbid nature (and don’t you all?) probably already know this, but I’ve been shivering in anticipation for a visit to the Glore Psychiatric Museum since I first heard about it several weeks ago. The reasons are multi-fold:

1) I have an intense love for the old, picturesque “Kirkbride Plan” asylums built in the 19th century – hence my frequent visits to the often quite tragic Historic Asylums Of America website which chronicles the renovation, preservation, and (frequently, sadly) demolition of these fine old structures.

2) I find the treatment of the insane in the Victorian era (and prior… and beyond…) to be immensely abhorrent, and I can’t help but wonder if I were born in that era, would I have been one of the tortured, imprisoned multitudes?

3) It’s just fascinating to visit morbid old places!

So, on an overcast April morning I set out to drive all the way across the state of Missouri to see remnants of the State Lunatic Asylum #2 in St. Joseph. I stopped briefly in Columbia (half way across the state) to pick up my friend Lacey. While there I took a picture of a powerhouse out of sheer perverse fascination. We may not have enough power to go around in California, but at least we don’t pollute the environment by burning coal to harness our electricity! (We use much safer nuclear power instead…) 😉 I kept thinking of the Navajo speaker I saw in Columbia a few weeks ago that said that coal was Mother Earth’s liver and the white man was ripping the liver out of the Earth. There was a lot of liver lying on the ground.

Once I overcame my ridiculous geographic curiosities, I picked up Lacey and we were on our way. It was a long drive filled with splendid conversation. Eventually, we drove past Kansas City and north to St. Joseph. After one wrong turn (maps can be sooooo tricky!), we found our way to the Glore Museum… and gosh, it was incredibly underwhelming! Where was the beautiful old 1874 Kirkbride building?? Well, as I was soon to find out, that beautiful old building was now a prison – hidden behind ugly barbed wire topped fences – and the museum was now housed in a more recent section of the old asylum. After my initial disappointment melted away – it took several hours and hundreds of tranquilizers, of course – I decided to buck up and do the right (morbid) thing, and enjoy the museum for what it was – a tribute to the imaginative and creative drifters who were imprisoned in the asylum, and the insane sadists who lorded over them.

When we first entered the museum, we were greeted by a very friendly staff member who gave us a brief history of the asylum. The State Lunatic Asylum #2 was built in 1874 and was active until 1997. During that time, it held as many as 3,000 patients at a time behind its “brick walls of divide” (hopelessly obscure Red House Painters reference). We were given instructions to take the elevator to the 3rd floor to begin our tour, and so we did.

The first thing we saw – and certainly the most memorable – was a display of the stomach contents of a particularly disturbed inmate. You see, in 1929, a patient with a proclivity for swallowing odd objects became acutely ill and was rushed to surgery. During the emergency procedure, 1,446 objects – including 453 nails, 409 pins, 63 buttons, 42 screws, 5 thimbles, and 3 salt shaker tops – were removed from her intestinal tract. Tragically, but unsurprisingly, she died during surgery.

That was quite a way to start off the tour, and as I walked away pondering what it must have felt like to walk around with 453 nails ripping at your intestines, I soon found myself staring at another wicked relic: blood-letting blades, cup, and stick. Blood letting was one of the best ways to cure practically any ailment in the olden days. Yep, if you just bleed people long enough they will be too weak to complain! They are cured!! And of course, no one was more annoying than the mentally ill. See that truncheon-y looking stick? That was used to tap on those rather vicious looking blades to force them through the skin and cause the patient to bleed. The glass bleeding cups were placed against the skin and either heat or cold was applied to them, causing a vacuum to form inside the glass. The patient’s blood would be sucked to the skin’s surface – then the blood was collected in the cup. Tidy, n’est pas?

Next came the first of the mannequins (depicting hydrotherapy – one of the few “treatments” here that doesn’t look completely horrid… unless one considers that they probably forgot about people and left them in the water for hours on end). One of the most delightfully kitschy aspects of the museum are these brilliant old mannequins decked out in the most torturous devices and poses. My goodness – little did they know when they were posing in J.C. Penney in 1976 that they’d end up in such a sorry state one day!! Here’s a particularly fetching mannie in a fever cabinet: “This fever cabinet was used in the treatment of syphilis. The cabinet was lined with rows of high wattage light bulbs that produced heat, elevating the patient’s body temperature. This was intended to kill the spirochete and arrest or halt the syphilitic condition.” I’m not sure if it cured syphilis, but I’m sure it inspired Gene Roddenbury when he devised the character of Captain Pike.

And what sort of self-respecting Psychiatric Museum would be worth its salt without singing a chorus from a Ramones song? Gimme Gimme Shock Treatment! I was also appalled and amazed by the Rectal Dilators on display. OUCH!! In front of the dilators is a bullet that was removed from a patient during surgery – that was put there 52 years prior when he was shot after “courting another man’s wife”. That’ll learn you!

Something about this next mannie just spoke to me! Isn’t that straitjacket just fetching beyond belief? Or how about this psychotic sophisticate with her dainty little restraints? But don’t be too misled by such seemingly innocent looking restraints. Here’s evidence of some of the less comfy looking restraints, from the original basement of the asylum. For those unruly patients where even restraints wouldn’t do the trick, there were the seclusion rooms.

Then there was the truly Silly part of the museum: a study of the treatment of the insane over the years. Gasp as a dreamy misunderstood mannequin is burned at the stake! Shiver as an innocent brunette mannequin is doused with freezing water (ie. cellophane) by an evil eyeless mannequin! Shudder at the uncomfortable fate of this tortured soul! And the equally uncomfortable fate of this faceless soul! And how’s this for silly? No, I’m not talking about my reflection in the glass – I mean the little dolls re-enacting water torture. Something kinda perverse about that, I guess…

And here’s a lovely reproduction of a Lunatic Box. “The Lunatic Box, sometimes called the English Booth, the Coffin or the Clock Case, was used during the 18th and 19th centuries. The victim was placed in device and had to remain in a standing position until he or she became calm. A wooden piece could be dropped over the opening of the face leaving the patient in complete darkness. The patient stood in his own excrement for extended periods of time.” What a gruesome world…

As enchanting as those exhibits may have been, I didn’t find them particularly interesting. I was more interested in the history of this hospital itself, so something as seemingly mundane as a table from the asylum’s cafeteria was much more interesting to me. I was also interested in the lives of the patients who had lived here – and I found this schizophrenic’s needlepoint particularly enchanting. I would love to have it in my house! And then there was the TV Guy: “In the fall of 1971, a male patient was observed inserting a piece of folded paper through a slot into the back of the ward television set. The set was turned off and the hospital’s electrician was notified. When the back was removed from the set a collection of papers, numbering 525, was discovered. Some were written as letters while others appear to be a daily diary system. Some of the patient’s delusions, mentioned in the writings, included the belief that the hospital was stealing his money. He also believed that his knowledge was hidden away in a couple of box cars and that he could not leave the hospital until this was exposed. ” You can read his eccentric and irrational writings – they’re plastered all over the wall. Compelling stuff, of course.

And then there was the particularly touching story of the patient who believed that if he saved up 100,000 cigarette packs he would be able to redeem them for a new wheelchair for the hospital. Of course, no such redemption existed, but the hospital administration felt sufficiently moved by his efforts to buy a wheelchair and dedicate it to the hospital in his name in 1969. Doesn’t that just make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?

Here, of course, was my favorite room of the museum. It’s an actual morgue, not a staged one. On the table in front of the “corpse” was an example of a nameless headstone that was used in the asylum’s cemetery about a half-mile away. Of course, Lacey and I asked for directions to the cemetery and decided we had to find it after we finished with the museum…

We finished up the last few exhibits in the museum – including the staircase from the original administration building, which was recently torn down. (Sob…) They liked to decorate the old asylums with lovely and ornate staircases and lobbies – so as to fool the families into thinking, “Oh, this is such a nice place for Aunt Betty” – as they drag her away to put the shackles on her.

After purchasing a t-shirt, some postcards, and a squishy brain stress ball, we wandered back to the parking lot and I decided I had to venture up to the prison fence to try to get a picture of the old asylum, despite the warnings of the museum employee who said that they tried to confiscate her camera the last time she tried to take pictures at the fence. But no one seemed to notice my blatant disregard of the warning signs, fortunately. Well, except for this little cutie I passed on the way back to the car. Of course, we know why he was hanging about the asylum – ’cause he loves Nuts! Hahahahahaha… I slay myself… (so you don’t have to).

After leaving the museum, we drove off to try to find the cemetery, which the tour guide stated was just around the block, across the street from a Food 4 Less. We followed the instructions to a little parking lot beside a monument next to a large field with the old asylum visible behind the trees in the background.

The tombstones themselves were sadly nondescript – just an anonymous number left to memorialize a living, breathing human being. To make matters worse, many of the stones were in state of disrepair, although a restoration project is in the works, thankfully. There were a couple of ‘named’ stones – obviously paid by private dollars – that stood out in the mix. Before leaving, I took one last look across the fields to the old Asylum and reflected on the lives that passed on those premises.

As I drove away from the State Lunatic Asylum #2, I took one last picture from the car. A beautiful place – pity about the prison!


Courtesy of Tee

I received some additional images and information in July, 2005 from Tee, who provides the following information. Thanks Tee!

The first one is of the back side of the Administration building taken in 1991, well before it was turned into a prison. You will note the barbed wire cage on the top of the roof. They had to add that, I am not sure of the year, due to suicides from the roof.

The next set of 5 pictures are of the original building. It is a series of long hallways. Although remodeled many times over the years you can see a lot of the original architecture remains. This building housed the museum later on before it was moved to where it is now and before the building was made into a prison. I took this set of 5 in the foyer – from the North, South East and West views and one looking up at the sky light. They had to close it in due to the same problem with suicides. While my grandmother worked there many many years starting in the later 1930’s there were a lot of suicides and at least 5 from beyond that sky light and one thru the glass that had been replaced.

The West picture view, shows the double doors and a row of chairs . This is what became used for offices for personnel during the mental hospital time frame.

North view – shows the massive stair case.

East view shows the elevators which lead up to the other floors and an original piece of furniture which is a bench and coat rack. The pictures show the original floor tile made of ceramic and the original ceiling and some of the bead board. That is the original staircase redone after a fire I believe.

Skylight view – shows that it has been closed off from above. The original crown molding is still there and cathedral woodwork over doors.

The next series will be pictures from inside the Glore museum which was entered by climbing the steps in the picture and going to the northwestern side of the building. These were also taken in 1991.
pic 1 – crafts preserved that were made by patients, some utensils are also in this china cabinet
pic 2 – These were the rooms, you could still see them all along the hallways although being used for other purposes then (I myself had training and watched video’s in one…but fell asleep and had a horrible dream..I could not relax in there and kept feeling as if someone was watching me and I kept hearing whispering. very odd) anyway… that is a mannequin to symbolize a patient… (not even close I’m sure) and the same beds they used (prob the same mattress) and bedside stand. Note the architectural detail on the window, they are all like that. [Awesome windows! – Despair]
pic 3 – The infirmary there is a dentist chair, very antique tools and medical instruments etc.
pic 4 – The type of bars used on most of the rooms, this is a room divided by such bars
pic 5 – A medical treatment (torture box) The idea was to isolate the patient to somehow force them to come to their senses so to speak. If they were faking etc they would surely drop the facade after a day or so in here. The patient had to stand, not enough room to sit and they slept, urinated, ate (if lucky) in this box.
pic 6 – Another medical device (torture chair). The bucket represents the potty part of the chair… leather restraints replaced a sort of metal device that used to hold the wrists and leather restraint across the chest. Blood letting was used with this chair, as well as leeches, shock treatment and my grandmother told us even lobotomies.
pic 7 – Dungeon picture – the word Dungeon was added for the tourists… but it is a dungeon made of wood. Very hot in summer.
pic 8 – This was used as a crate to hold veg and potatoes, onions etc when my grandmother worked there…but in earlier years it was another kind of holding cage for patients. They lay in it (and their own excrement) until they were removed, if they lived thru it.
pic 9 – This is a large wheel with a door (the door is in the back and cannot be viewed for safety purposes at the museum) the idea was they put a patient in there and turned it …and turned it ..and…you get the idea. They would get dizzy, vomit etc…
pic 10 – This is a vat of ice cold water. There is a trap door device at the top like a gallows and the patient would stand and with no warning, be dropped into the icy cold water. The idea was to shock them out of their illness and back to reality. This was the main theme in treatment during this time. Most died from drowning due to the shock of the water and sometimes they were drugged or simply could not stand up out of the water. Some hit their heads on the way down and escaped the drowning.I cannot find my photo of the spinning board. In which many patients were placed. Unfortunately they didn’t think about gravity… spun them pretty fast and their brains came out their eye sockets.Many of these devices were used well into the later 1940’s…and believe it or not, although lobotomies were stopped being done across the US, this asylum continued to do them into the 1960’s I am told. They also continued to do shock treatments well into the later 1970’s and early 1980s (just FYI).

For more information on the Glore Psychiatric Museum, also see:
Roadside America
Savvy Traveler

Missouri History Museum

Missouri History Museum (St. Louis, Missouri)

Sunny recommends this site: “I spent the weekend in St. Louis, and my husband and I went to the Missouri History Museum in Forest Park one afternoon. That is one MORBID museum! I mean, I love the macabre as much as the next girl and there were some things that even made me sit back and go, ‘eww’. Like the death mask of the child who died during the cholera epidemic in 1849, complete with a tiny coffin. (With a picture of the child from when she was alive with her mom!) Or the collection of pictures of dead people taken by their grieving families as mementos. Or the slavers’ chains you can actually PUT ON around your ankles. Or (and this was my favorite) the collection of coroner’s notes from autopsies done on the bodies of people killed during the Camp Jackson Affair of 1861. WAAAY less sanitized than the Smithsonian, lemme tell ya. An engaging way to spend an icy afternoon in St. Louis.”

 

Hinckley Fire Museum

Hinckley Fire Museum (Hinckley, Minnesota)
A Comtesse Travelogue!

Great Fire!

Hinckley Fire Museum
July 21, 2002

On September 1, 1894 a fire raged through the town of Hinckley, Minnesota. A combination of intense drought, high winds, and dry kindling left behind by sloppy loggers resulted in an enormous firestorm that literally engulfed the town. The cyclone shot flames miles into the air and temperatures reached 1000 degrees (F). Survival was haphazard: over 100 people safely rode out the storm in a soggy gravel pit in the middle of town, while 127 people died seeking refuge in a swamp. In four hours the fire burned out 400 square miles and killed more than 400 people.Local landmark Tobie’s Restaurant has an excellent description of the mesmerizing power of the fire on its website:

“The fierce flaming heat became so intense in certain localities, it created what seemed to be a vacuum. The vacuum would then quickly fill with violent and explosive gases; yet at times appear entirely at rest in spite of the brisk south wind. With a river so near, there would have been time to seek safety in flight and even to have removed goods if no greater danger menaced the townspeople than an ordinary forest fire. But when the fire burst over the town it came in fierce explosions and in streaks, with suffocating choking gases that paralyzed the victims even before the burning.

“In one instance a man was stricken down, but not burned enough to destroy his clothes, yet in one of his pockets was found a small leather purse in which were four silver dollars welded together in one solid piece. In another case two horses were badly burned, but the wagonload of hay they were pulling was unharmed. It was no ordinary fire. It came too quickly for analysis. It baffled science. It could not be accounted for. It was a phenomenon that defies all description. It did not crawl or creep but burst and exploded. It roared, seethed and boiled. On the ground it swept forward in walls and cylinders of flame; in the air it soared in massive balls of fire and gas. Its heat was intense and searing and it devoured kingly pines in minutes, yet spared fragile saplings close by.”

Although other communities, such as Mission Creek and Brook Park, were also destroyed by the fire, Hinckley suffered the greatest number of fatalities and feature the most interesting tales of heroism and rescue, especially regarding the trains that ferried townspeople to safety amid the flames. One of the trains in particular – that of Jim Root – was involved in a dramatic race against the flames with over a hundred townspeople aboard. Although the train and the tracks were ablaze, Root managed to maneuver the train to a shallow lake, where the majority of those aboard were able to find refuge from the firestorm.

Given the trainbound drama, it seems entirely suitable that the Hinckley Fire Museum is housed in the train depot which was rebuilt in 1894 after the fire destroyed the original.

So, on a stormy summer day, I set out to visit Hinckley, which lies about 80 miles north of Minneapolis. And this is what I learned about that tragic September day all those years ago…

——————————————-

Alongside the parking area of the museum is this beautiful mural. A nearby sign explains it as follows:

A STORY OF HEROISM AND FRIENDSHIP

The mural, painted by artist and Mille Lacs Band member Steven Premo depicts the story of an unselfish and brave Ojibwe woman who saved the Non-Indian Patrick family from the Great Hinckley Fire.

Mah-kah-day-gwon (Blackfeather) heard the cries of Mary Ellen Patrick and her two children, Frank and Roy, who had sought refuge from the Fire on a boat on Grindstone Lake. When the boat was blown across the lake, frightening the Patrick family, Mah-kah-day-gwon and her two small children, Be Shew (Jessie) and Saung way way gah bow eke (Maggie) paddled out in their canoe to meet them and bring them back to the shoreline for safety.

The Ojibwe woman offered them food and shelter in her unburned cabin for the night and even made a pair of moccassins for Roy who had lost his shoes while escaping the Fire.

Mah-kah-day-gwon spent her life helping people after relocating with her husband Alexander McDonnell to the White Earth Indian Reservation in 1905 where she acted as doctor and mid-wife in the area, delivering over 300 babies. She was affectionately known as Granma McDonnell to children and adults as well.

The Patrick family returned to Hinckley after the Fire helping the town rebuild. They remain a prominent family in the town to this day. Frank, who was two years old at the time of the Fire was a wonderful storyteller and relayed his rescue story to many museum visitors and school children before his death in the 1980’s.

In the end, it is a heart warming story of heroism and friendship that has survived over one hundred years.

Hmmmm… why is it that I don’t find the story nearly so heartwarming… considering that the Native American woman gave so much to so many people… yet she was still stuck living on a reservation?

——————————————-

     

Inside the museum they have a large collection of photographs taken both before and after the fire. These images show the lumber community of Hinckley prior to the fire. (It was a very dark day and there was no flash photography allowed in the museum, so these pictures are blurry. High quality versions of the images are available on various websites – see links below – or in the excellent book “From the Ashes: The Story of the Hinckley Fire of 1894“.)

——————————————-

Here’s a good view of the interior of the museum. The far wall is dominated by a very cool mural of the fire.

——————————————-

     

These photographs showcase James Root and his rescue train which caught on fire trying to flee the inferno and barely made it to Skunk Lake where over 100 refugees took cover from the searing flames in the muck.

——————————————-

My favorite displays in the museum were, of course, the mementos of the fire themselves. Unsurprisingly, with such an intense inferno, there were few objects that survived, but the ones that did were very interesting. The description of the satchel states, Severt Haglin was the St. Paul & Duluth section foreman at Groningen in 1894. On duty the day of the Fire, the gathering darkness forced him to light the switch lamps. Hurrying home, he collected the family papers and a few clothes into this satchel. The family then fled to a cut in the high bank where they saved themselves.”

The melted piece of metal beside the satchel has the following description: “Several train cars burned up on the tracks where they stood. This hinge was among the few remains of one of those cars.”

——————————————-



This is another interesting relic from the fire: “Although James Root’s train was destroyed this tinderbox was salvaged and is the last known part of the train in existence today. Engine #69 was put to use and remained for many years on the Iron Range until the 1960’s when it was destroyed.” Jeez – all those years of service and that’s the thanks it gets??? Typical…

——————————————-

Some change purses that survived the fire.

——————————————-

     

Isn’t this mural (by Cliff Letty) depecting various scenes from the fire absolutely wonderful? I wouldn’t mind having this on a wall in The Castle DeSpair.

——————————————-

     

These are probably the most famous mementos on display, though they aren’t that mesmerizing for us morbid types:

SAVED IN A POTATO PATCH

Mission Creek, a small saw mill town was one of the first villages south of Hinckley to be razed by the Fire. All its residents survived that day by taking shelter in an open potato field.

One of them was young Jenny Johnson, who was placed in the adjacent rocker by her parents. Well protected by wet blankets, she gripped her china doll seen here and sat out the Firestorm in the open vegetable plot.

——————————————-

Now, for us morbid types, this next one is a much more interesting memento since it was plucked off a casualty of the fire, not a survivor:

SNUFF BOX

This snuff box belonged to fire victim Henry Hanson and was all that was left of his that was identifiable. Henry was one of the volunteer firemen who died in the fire. He left behind his wife Emma and six young children.

Emma returned to Hinckley where a relief home was built for her and her children. She took in boarders to make a living, something she had no experience in prior to losing her husband. Emma’s story is typical of many who lost their spouses and exemplifies the courage and fortitude of those who came back to this blackened land to start all over again.

——————————————-

    

More morbid debris from the fire!

The purse on the left of the top picture (and in the middle picture) has the following description: “Mrs. John McNamara and family escaped on Root’s train to Skunk Lake. Getting off the flaming train, she and her two oldest songs ran down the tracks in fright and perished. Beneath her charred body this purse was later found. In it was $3,500 which she had saved to send her sons to college.”

The doll in the middle of the top picture (and in the bottom picture) has the following description: “This little china doll belonged to eight year old Mary Tew. Clinging to her doll throughout the tragic ordeal, Mary escaped, only to die a year later from the effects of the Fire as many people did.”

The pitcher on the right has the following description: “This cream pitcher survived the Fire by being buried along with other family treasures. Those who lived northeast of Partridge had time to save more belongings by doing so.”

——————————————-

Here are a couple of macabre mementos associated with telegraph operator Tommy Dunn, who died when he stayed at his post too long attempting to make contact with the railroad to determine when a rescue train would be arriving:

After the fire, the St. Paul & Duluth Railroad wanted to recognize telegraph operator Tommy Dunn for his heroism during the fire even though he was one of the fire victims. They took his silver railroad watch, had it gold plated and inscribed it:

“Thomas Dunn, Operator, St. Paul & Duluth Railroad, met his death while on duty at Hinckley, Minn, during the Great Fire, September 1, 1894.”

When the body of Tommy Dunn was found, the family kept the ring he was wearing when he perished, even though the stone that was once in the ring had completely burned.

Notice the ring on the doily beside the clock. What a silly thing to say though, huh? “They kept the ring despite the fact that the stone was burned” – as if they kept the ring for the value of the ring, and not for the fact that it was on his hand as he burned to death. Ah well, I suppose you have to think of SOMETHING to put on these placards, eh?

——————————————-

     

They also have a very well-done recreation of the telegraph office with a likeness of Dunn faithfully remaining at his post despite the approaching flames. The last message he sent was the prophetic, “I have stayed too long”. Indeed.

——————————————-

     

There is a film that you can watch in the old freight room, as well as a recreation of Dr. E.L. Stephan’s office. “Doc” Stephan was a prominent citizen and doctor in the town of Hinckley who played an important role in the rebuilding of the town.

——————————————-

     

On the second floor of the museum is a 1890’s era recreation of the apartment where the depot agent and his family lived.

——————————————-

After purchasing a book (From the Ashes) from the gift shop, I walked outside and took this shot of the Hinckley water tower. You can see it was quite a dismal day. Of course, I was most pleased.

——————————————-

               

     

After the museum, I drove to the nearby gravel pit, where so many Hinckley residents successfully took refuge from the inferno. Although the pit has been filled in over the years, the remnants have been made into a lovely little park filled with statues depicting a couple of the residents. A placard in the area says the following:

THE HISTORIC PIT

During the Great Hinckley Fire on September 1, 1894, this site, then known as the Gravel Pit, proved to be a God-send to those people who were not able to escape the Fire by train. It was on this railroad track that two trains, one passenger and one freight, coupled together to take over 400 people from the burning town and deliver them safely to Duluth. This pit, considered an eyesore to the people of Hinckley in 1894 was dug by the Eastern Minnesota Railroad to be used in making the roadbed for the train track. But, it was where about 100 people, along with many domestic and wild animals, found shelter from the Fire. The pit at that time was a three acre excavation, about thirty feet deep, with a spring that kept water in the depression. Because 1894 was a very dry year, there was only about three feet of water in the depression. Everyone who took shelter from the Fire here, however, was saved, except for one man who was overcome from heat and smoke. He fainted and was stepped on by a cow and died. The frightened people stayed in the water for about three hours and when they crawled out to see what was left of the town they were horrified to see the total devastation. Where once stood a busy and prosperous town was now just a pile of smoking ashes. The only buildings remaining were the Round House and the Water Tank on the south end of town where the railroad tracks intersect. Here the fire victims found shelter where they stayed until they could be rescued by train. Over the years, the pit has been filled in. At one time it was common to see boaters in the pit and also a foot bridge was built to connect one side of the pit to the other.

——————————————-

              

               

My final stop was the cemetery, where a large monument was erected in memory of the victims of the fire, over 200 of whom are buried in a collective grave. It was difficult to get in and out of the cemetery since there is an Indian Casino just down the street, and it obviously is the big draw for the non-morbid public. (You might notice the line of cars in the background of the pictures. I wasn’t very pleased that my moment of solitude with the Hinckley dead was sullied by the presence of so many gamblers.)

The monument, which was dedicated in 1900, is near the street and easily identified. Upon the monument are several inscriptions, the most poignant of which are the following two:

SEPTEMBER 1st, A.D. 1894
On the first day of September, A.D. 1894, between the hours of three and five o’clock in the afternoon a forest fire swept over Central Pine County devastating four hundred square miles of country, consuming the villages of Hinckley, Sandstone, Mission Creek and Brook Park, and destroying more than four hundred and eighteen human lives.

IN MEMORIAM
In the four trenches north of this monument lie the remains of two hundred and forty eight men, women and children, residents of Hinckley, who perished in the fire which this monument was erected to commemorate.

And with this last somber moment, my trip to Hinckley had come to an end. In a much more agreeable manner than it came to an end for 418 unfortunate souls on September 1, 1894.

——————————————-
——————————————-

Julie writes:

In response to your request of morbid places to visit in Minnesota, I would like to suggest, Hinckley Minn. My Great-Grandfather worked for the railroad at the time of the Great Hinckley Fire. My brother recently came across some old journals of our grandfathers’, and he wrote of his father Wilbur’s experience, when the railroad company sent him to Hinckley Minnesota to restart the railway system. Apparently on 12-7-1894 [9-1-1894 actually – Comtesse], a fire started in a non-combustible area. Eye witnesses insisted the fire came from the sky. My great-grandfather, Wilbur, was one of the first to arrive to help out. What he saw was, and I will quote from a letter he wrote to his wife, “I will not attempt to tell you of the horrible scenes.” But he later told my grandfather (his son) the rest of the story. Witnesses said, a fire started in the sky, like a huge ball of flames. The townspeople were so terrified, they crowded onto the only transportation out of town at that time, the train. Hundreds scrambled to get in, and on top of the train. They hung from windows, anywhere that they could hold on, to get out as fast as possible. Then, the ball of fire in the air swooped down on the train before it could leave, burning their bodies to a crisp. Hundreds perished. They never got out of town. The town as well burnt to the ground. A Norwegian house in the poor section of town was the only building left standing. An article in Argosy Magazine, back in the 1970’s, tells of the Depot Agents story and says a UFO may have been involved. Some try to say it was just a bad forest fire, but my Great-grandfather spoke to the frightened survivors in person, and they all said the fire came from the sky. Some said great balls of fire were burning in the air, and there was no forest nearby. And they were puzzled as to why the fire ball of all places, descended on the train. Hundreds of burnt and unrecognizable corpses were the first thing to greet my Great-Grandfather on his arrival to Hinckley. There are supposed to be 100’s of the victims graves, and maybe you can locate it and take a look. All I can tell you is what we have found written in my grandfathers journal. Thought I would suggest it to you. Just the thought of hundreds of peoples burnt bodies melted onto that train, seems pretty morbid to me. Have a safe trip, and keep the stories coming.

——————————————-

An anonymous individual writes:

I live in Hinckley, on the edge of the gravel pit where those people and livestock crouched to wait out the firestorm. I have to say that I was curious when directed to your site; I wasn’t sure what approach you would take to the fire and the aftermath. Someone who apparently is also a fan of the morbid has stolen one of the statues on the edge of the pit commemorating the events of that day. I’m afraid I can’t offer you much in the way of morbidity, but I can offer you this. If you are a believer in ghosts, come back to Hinckley. In the pit there are strange lights at night, and sometimes there are more dead people on the street than live ones. While I am a transplant to this town, I have come to appreciate it’s history, and I am proud to tell of it to anyone who will listen.

——————————————-

Recently Debbers sent me the following update:

Hello, I found out that my great-great-grandparents were one of the Russian families living in Hinckley. My great-great-grandma took her two boys to that gravel pit. But, my family states the two year old died there. He drowned. My great-grandpa was four; he lived, but his legs were badly burned.

 

——————————————-

Additionally, Chris Reinhold sent me the following:

Hi, I saw your page devoted to the Great Hinckley Fire.

I’m the step grandson of Frank Patrick, a renowned survivor of the fire. My family has very strong ties to that town  My grandfather Frank Reinhold was a lawyer and ran the Lamson and Reinhold law firm there. My grandmother Arloine Patrick was an elementary school teacher there, after my grandfather passed away she re-married to Frank Patrick the Hinckley Fire survivor and they spent the rest of their lives together. My father, Frank Reinhold (Jr.) grew up in Hinckley and was a sports star at Hinckley High School before joining the service.

“Pat” was the only grandfather I ever knew.

I found the annonymous contribution in the replies interesting because my grandparent’s house was on the [lot] near where “The Pit” is.

Hinckley is a quiet and peaceful town with great people, I wouldn’t mind moving back there one day.

My step-brothers were adopted by Harold and Margaret Underhill who lived on on Grindstone Lake in Sandstone. Grindstone Lake is where my grandfather and his family were rescued by a Native American woman. The blanket he was rescued in is on display at the Hinckley Fire museum. I guess an artist made a mural of the rescue that hangs on the Hinckley Town Hall. He gave lectures about the fire at the museum and in front of the Hinckley Fire Monument in the cemetery for years. Pat was a great guy, a real character. = )

Anyone have any additional tidbits or photos to add?
If so, by all means, write me!

For more information on the Hinckley Fire, also see:
From the Ashes: The Story of the Hinckley Fire of 1894
Minnesota Historical Society

Henry Ford Museum

Henry Ford Museum (Dearborn, Michigan)

Who would have guessed that the Henry Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan would be the home of such incredible morbid goodies as the chair Lincoln was sitting in when he was assassinated at Ford’s Theatre, the limousine that JFK was riding in when he was assassinated in Dallas, and Thomas Edison’s last breath? Certainly not I, but it’s now on my “Must Visit” list! (Thanks to Scott for the suggestion.)

 

Witch History Museum

Witch History Museum (Salem, Massachusetts)

“The untold stories of 1692 told through an historically accurate live presentation followed by a guided tour downstairs where you will walk thru the forest, meet Tituba in Rev. Parris’s kitchen, visit Old Salem Village and view 15 life size scenes depicting these stories. These and many other stories of Which Times are revealed at the Witch History Museum.” (Thanks to The Mourner for the suggestion.)

 

Salem Witch Dungeon

Salem Witch Dungeon (Salem, Massachusetts)

“The mood is set from the moment you enter the Witch Dungeon Museum. You are there – in Salem Village in 1692, and you are guaranteed a unique educational experience with a chill or two. You’ll experience the acclaimed performace of a Witch trial adapted from the 1692 historical transcripts. Professional actresses in repertory reenact the electrifying scene.”   Or so the website says…