April 8 | Per Yngve Ohlin (Dead)

January 16, 1969 - April 8, 1991: Age 22

Per Yngve Ohlin was a Swedish vocalist for the Norwegian black metal band Mayhem. He was known as "Dead", and liked to dress up as a corpse, sometimes burying his clothes weeks before a concert so that they could be rotting and worm-infested when he performed. While on one tour, he kept the corpse of a raven in a plastic bag, inhaling from it before performing in order to smell death. He would also cut himself with knives or broken bottles while performing, on one occasion even having to go to hospital to recover from the blood loss.

On April 8, 1991, a fellow band member found him dead -- actually dead. He had tried to slit his wrists, but the knife was too dull, so he had shot himself in the head using a shotgun, leaving a note that read "Excuse all the blood" and further apologizing for using a shotgun in the house. His friend jumped in the car and drove to buy a disposable camera so that he could record the tableau, which he later used as an album cover. For real. He also took fragments of the skull to make necklaces, or perhaps to mail out to worthy metal bands....all rumours which he later denied.

It's easy to Google the image of his actual corpse on the album cover, if you're interested; I won't put it here because it's pretty grisly and you may not want to look at it today.

Sources: Wikipedia, Fan Site

March 28 | Virginia Woolf

January 25, 1882 - March 28, 1941: Age 59

Virginia Woolf was an English writer whose novels and essays had a lasting impact on English literary style. She was a member of the very influential Bloomsbury group, a collection of writers, artists, and thinkers who explored and promoted radical ideas about feminism, sexuality, and pacifism.

Woolf suffered her first nervous breakdown as a teenager after her mother and her sister both died within two years of one another. Her father's death when she was just over 20 had the same effect. She was also sexually abused as a child by her half-brother. Throughout her life, her temperament was delicate and she endured regular, debilitating periods of depression.

In March 1941 she was living in the country, trying to avoid having another nervous breakdown. Not that she had much of a choice: her home in London had been destroyed in bombing raids. Feeling another breakdown was inevitable, and not wanting to endure it, she wrote a suicide note to her husband Leonard, weighted her pockets with stones, and walked into a river near her home. Her body wasn't found for nearly three weeks.

"I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier 'til this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer. I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been."

Source: Wikipedia

March 20 | Ota Benga

1881 or 1884 - March 20, 1916: Age 32 or 35

During the late nineteenth century, the Congo was viewed by Europeans as the private property of King Léopold II of Belgium. He "managed" his property through a force of Belgian soldiers and white mercenaries, who in turn commanded an ethnically-mixed army. The official role of this army, known as the "Force Publique", was to defend the area from Arab slavers, but their real role was to ensure that rubber quotas were met. This meant managing and supplying a large force of slaves.

In the course of this, a detachment of the Force Publique raided and massacred the village of Ota Benga, a pygmy of the Batwa people living in the forest. His wife and two children were killed, but Benga was captured and sold to an American businessman Samuel Verner, along with eight others. Verner was working under contract from the St. Louis World's Fair, with the mandate to bring back pygmies for the exhibition.

Of course, slavery had been illegal in all US states for about 40 years, so theoretically Benga was free to do what he liked once he was there. After several months of travel in the US, Verner took Benga to the Bronx Zoo in New York to live, at the suggestion of the then-Director of the American Museum of Natural History. At the zoo, Benga was encouraged to hang his hammock in the Monkey House exhibit and to shoot arrows at the target. A sign on the exhibit read:

The African Pigmy, 'Ota Benga'. Age, 23 years. Height, 4 feet 11 inches. Weight, 103 pounds. Brought from the Kasai River, Congo Free State, South Central Africa, by Dr. Samuel P. Verner. Exhibited each afternoon during September.

The zoo director and other scientifically-minded men saw the exhibit as a valuable demonstration of how man evolved from the apes. This incurred controversy, most notably drawing protests from African-Americans and clergymen, who pointed out that the exhibit was racist and anti-Christian in that it promoted Darwinism. From a New York Times article of September 1906:

The person responsible for this exhibition degrades himself as much as he does the African," said Rev. Dr. R. MacArthur of Calvary Baptist Church. "Instead of making a beast of this little fellow, he should be put in school for the development of such powers as God gave to him. It is too bad that there is not some society like the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. We send our missionaries to Africa to Christianize the people, and then we bring one here to brutalize him.

In response to the outcry, the zoo management allowed Benga to roam the zoo grounds as a sort of interactive exhibit. Zoo visitors, however, tended to administer verbal and physical prods to try to get Benga to "do something". His behaviour began to show signs of frustration.

By the end of September 1906 Benga came under the protection of Rev. James Gordon, and African-American pastor, who placed him in a "coloured" orphan asylum. Later he was relocated to Virginia, where his teeth, which had been filed to points in the Congo, were capped, and he dressed in American-style clothes. He learned about reading and writing from a tutor and attended classes at a Theological Seminary, however he seemed to find more happiness discarding his clothes and roaming the nearby woods with his bow and arrow. Later he quit school and got a job at a nearby tobacco factory. He was popular, telling stories to his fellow employees in exchange for sandwiches and root beer, and he could climb up the poles to get the dried tobacco leaves without a ladder. They called him "Bingo".

On March 20, 1916, he built a ceremonial fire, chipped the caps off his teeth, performed final tribal dance, and shot himself in the heart with a stolen pistol. He was buried in an unmarked grave in the coloured section of the cemetery.

Source: Wikipedia

Ecce Homo! | Pontius Pilate

Pontius Pilate as Prefect of Judaea at the time of Christ's death. As such his job would have been to collect taxes, put down rebellions, and help out with some judicial functions. Most of the civil government would have been in the hands of the local communities. The Jewish historian Josephus, who was born not long after Christ died, writes about Pilate:

On one occasion, when the soldiers under his command came to Jerusalem, he made them bring their ensigns with them, upon which were the usual images of the emperor. Roman battle standards were considered idolatrous by the Jews. The ensigns were brought in secretly by night, but their presence was soon discovered. Immediately multitudes of excited Jews rushed to Caesarea to petition him for the removal of the obnoxious ensigns. He ignored them for five days, but the next day he admitted the Jews to hear their complaint. He had them surrounded with soldiers and threatened them with instant death unless they ceased to trouble him with the matter. The Jews then threw themselves to the ground and bared their necks, declaring that they preferred death to the violation of their laws. Pilate, unwilling to kill so many, succumbed and removed the ensigns.

There was no physical evidence of Pilate's existence until 1961, when an excavation of an amphitheatre uncovered a block of limestone with a carved inscription dedicted by Pilate to the Emperor Tiberias. (The painting above was created by Giotto in the early 14th century.)

But there are stories, of course; many stories. It is certain that he was prefect when Christ died. There is no particular reason to disbelieve the gospels which, although written long after Jesus died, present a credible story. Jesus was brought to Pilate by the Jewish judiciary, who don't seem to have quite known what to do with him. Jesus was saying things that they considered blasphemous. The accused him of sedition in front of Pilate, saying he opposed paying taxes and called himself a king. Pilate's question to Jesus was, "Are you the king of the Jews?" Jesus' reply is recorded in Greek as being «σὺ λέγεις» which is generally translated as "It is as you say" (King James version) but literally means "you say". There is lots of debate about what he meant by that, assuming it's an actual quote. Our earliest written source is the Gospel of Mark, which (so far as we know) was first written more than 30 years after the fact.

John, characteristically, provides more colour. According to his gospel Jesus said, "You say rightly that I am a king. For this cause I was born, and for this cause I have come into the world, that I should bear witness to the truth. Everyone who is of the truth hears My voice." Pilate's response is one that resonates strongly with the postmodern sensibility: "What is truth?"

The gospels report that Jewish tradition provided for the release of one prisoner at the time of Passover. He put it to the mob (who seem to have been conveniently waiting outside his window), presenting Jesus to them ("Ecce homo") and giving them a choice between Jesus and a guy named Barrabas. Coached by Jesus' enemies, they demanded the release of Barabbas. Pilate is presented as being reluctant to condemn Jesus, because he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. The final, famous moment arrives when, in the gospel of Matthew, Pilate "took water and washed his hands before the multitude, saying, 'I am innocent of the blood of this just person. You see to it.'"

Naturally the question of what Pilate was actually like, what he himself thought of the situation, how he might regard his posthumous reputation, all these are fertile ground for the imagination. And many imaginations have worked on it. According to Eastern Orthodox tradition, he did everything he could to release Jesus and thus should not be blamed. The Ethiopian Church even recognized him as a saint in the 6th century.

Traditional tales relate that Pilate suffered dramatic career setbacks under Caligula and retired to Vienne in France (Gaul), where he committed suicide. There is not a shred of real evidence of this. Folklore continues the story, however; it is said when he died his body was thrown into the Tiber (nowhere near France) but the river was disturbed by evil spirits and rejected him. So they (who?) took his body to Vienne where they threw it in the Rhone, which also wouldn't have him. Finally it was sunk in the lake at Lausanne or, some say, "a deep and lonely mountain tarn" overlooking Lucerne. Every Good Friday the body re-emerges from the waters and washes it hands.

I cannot resist the opportunity for a reference to Monty Python. YouTube has a segment from Life of Brian, where Pilate asks the mob which prisoner to release, but Pilate, as conceived by Michael Palin, has a speech impediment. Hilarity ensues.

Sources: Wikipedia, King James Bible

January 30 | Baroness Mary Vetsera

March 19, 1871 - January 30, 1889: Age 17

If bad judgement were consistently fatal, we would never live beyond our teenage years. Mary Vetsera, the teenaged progeny of an elderly Baron and the daughter of a low-class Greek millionaire, made a lot of silly choices just like any other teenager, but in her case they were fatal.

Encouraged by her ambitious mother, she attracted the attention of Rudolph, the Crown Prince and heir of the Austrian Empire. Had he lived today he would have been all over the tabloid press: unable to connect with his distant, narcissictic mother (see September 10 death) and rigid, conservative father; and distant from all others due to his exalted rank, he drowned his depression and frustration in champagne, ether, opium, and sex. At 30, the physical effects were beginning to tell: he had contracted syphilis (which he had passed on to his wife and, no doubt, many others as well) and suffered blinding headaches and seizures. Married and emotionally unstable, he was not a great catch.

Mary seems to have been blinded by love and by the sheer romance of the lonely, great man, desperate for her tender rescue. Their relationship was consummated in mid-January. When he proposed a suicide pact with her, she agreed, and began composing suicide notes for various family members immediately (some were even found before the death). What she probably never knew was that she was not his first choice: Rudolph had been shopping for some time for a companion in death. Previously he had asked (many times) his friend Mitzi Kaspar, a Viennese prostitute, to join him. She, sensibly, refused and reported it to the police, who did nothing.

On the evening of January 30, 1889, Rudolph and Mary met at his hunting lodge, having agreed to spend one more night together before plunging into the afterlife together. At some point during the night Rudolph shot Mary. He then stayed in the room with the body six to eight hours before shooting himself in the head.

Because of his political position, the prime directive to all involved was instantly understood to be "cover-up". Mary's body was smuggled out of the lodge and buried secretly at a nearby monastery, her relatives warned, even threatened, to keep quiet. The first official story was that Rudolf had died of a heart attack. Too many servants, however, had seen the bodies and the notes for that to hold up, however, and the story of the suicide pact quickly became widespread. A special dispensation was obtained from the Pope to bury Rudolph in the family tomb (normally suicides cannot be buried in sacred ground).

Later various stories surfaced about conspiracies, some alleging that the couple had been killed by French spies, others that the Emperor himself had ordered the deaths. It is not known for sure how Mary died; officially she was said to have been shot, but other stories state that she was strangled. Her remains were stolen in 1992; when returned they were examined and there was no evidence of a gunshot but there was evidence of a severe beating. However it cannot be known for sure if the 100-year-old skeleton was actually hers. Some reports say that only one shot was fired, killing Rudolph; others say that six shots were fired. Because the crime scene was cleared up with only brief examination, and because the Emperor spent a fortune silencing witnesses and suppressing evidence, the truth will never be known.

Sources: Wikipedia, The Mayerling Tragedy

January 24 | Horace Wells

January 21, 1815 - January 24, 1848: Age 33

Next time you visit the dentist, spare a thought for Horace Wells, the young American dentist who had the bright idea that people should not be in pain while having their teeth fixed. Wells witnessed a demonstration of the effects of nitrous oxide, and immediately connected it with the notion of painless surgery, or at least distress-free surgery. The very next day he had himself put under and himself became the first dental patient to have a tooth removed painlessly.

At the time, other dentists were also experimenting with other kinds of anaesthesia, but Wells was determined to prove that nitrous oxide was the best. Unfortunately he staged a demonstration in front of medical students during which the gas was incorrectly administered, and the patient cried out in pain. He never lived it down.

Unfortunately he was prone to experimenting on himself in comparing the effects of various pain-killing drugs. Soon he became addicted to nitrous oxide, and on his birthday in 1848, January 21, he was arrested for causing a disturbance in a public place while high on chloroform. When he sobered up he wrote a letter confessing that he had provided sulfuric acid to a friend, who then went and throw on a local prostitute in revenge. He was so distraught that he dosed himself with chloroform, got high as a kite, and in a state of complete exhileration took the remainder of the sulfuric acid, ran out into the street, and threw it on some passing women.

"I cannot proceed," he wrote. "My hand is too unsteady and my whole frame is convulsed in agony. My brain is on fire."

He was allowed to go home for some personal items, on his promise to return to jail. An honourable man, he did just that, but the personal items he retrieved included more chloroform and a razor. In a note to his wife, he stated, "I feel that I am fast becoming a deranged man, or I would desist from this act. I can not live and keep my reason, and on this account God will forgive the deed. I can say no more."

He inhaled some chloroform to dull the pain, then cut his leg to the bone, slitting an artery. He was found dead in his cell the next morning, the empty bottle of chloroform by his side.

Sources: Wikipedia; Forbes, Malcolm, They Went That-A-Way, Simon and Shuster, New York, 1988.

January 22 | R. Budd Dwyer

November 21, 1939 - January 22, 1987: Age 47

Budd Dwyer was the Treasurer of the State of Pennsylvania in the 1980s when a scandal emerged relating to bids for a government contract. One firm, owned by a local Pennsylvania man, used a series of personal connections and bribes in order to obtain the contract. Among the evidence found on the business owner's computer was a list of names and amounts, including the name of Budd Dwyer beside a figure of $300,000. Dwyer was convicted on the strength of this, and on testimony from the business owner and other indictees, all obtained as a result of plea bargains. Unindicted co-conspirators also testified against him, but the government refused to release their names, making it difficult for Dwyer to defend himself.

Dwyer himself was offered a plea bargain, but refused it, vehemently protesting his innocence. He was found guilty, and was facing the possibility of more than 50 years in prison and a large fine, although it is unlikely he would have received that, as his co-defendant was given just a year in prison and later returned to politics, getting elected in 1999.

Dwyer was still State Treasurer, under law, until his sentencing on January 23. The day before that he called a press conference to "provide an update on the situation". There were many cameras present, both still and television. He began by reaffirming his innocence and stating that he would not resign. He then went on to give a rather long statement, during which some of the press began to pack up and leave. He asked them to stay, and apparently skipped a number of pages, ending with the following final words:

I thank the good Lord for giving me 47 years of exciting challenges, stimulating experiences, many happy occasions, and, most of all, the finest wife and children any man could ever desire.

Now my life has changed, for no apparent reason. People who call and write are exasperated and feel helpless. They know I'm innocent and want to help. But in this nation, the world's greatest democracy, there is nothing they can do to prevent me from being punished for a crime they know I did not commit. Some who have called have said that I am a modern day Job.

Judge [Malcolm] Muir is also noted for his medieval sentences. I face a maximum sentence of 55 years in prison and a $300,000 fine for being innocent. Judge Muir has already told the press that he, quote, "felt invigorated" when we were found guilty, and that he plans to imprison me as a deterrent to other public officials. But it wouldn't be a deterrent because every public official who knows me knows that I am innocent; it wouldn't be a legitimate punishment because I've done nothing wrong. Since I'm a victim of political persecution, my prison would simply be an American gulag.

I ask those that believe in me to continue to extend friendship and prayer to my family, to work untiringly for the creation of a true justice system here in the United States, and to press on with the efforts to vindicate me, so that my family and their future families are not tainted by this injustice that has been perpetrated on me.

We were confident that right and truth would prevail, and I would be acquitted and we would devote the rest of our lives working to create a justice system here in the United States. The guilty verdict has strengthened that resolve. But as we've discussed our plans to expose the warts of our legal system, people have said: "Why bother?" "No one cares." "You'll look foolish." "60 Minutes, 20/20, the American Civil Liberties Union, Jack Anderson and others have been publicizing cases like yours for years, and it doesn't bother anyone."

At this point he stopped, and asked several staff members to approach him — his office was arranged so that there was a large table between him and the rest of the room. He gave them several envelopes, which later turned out to include organ donor information, a letter to his wife, and a letter to the State governor.

He then pulled a gun out of a manila envelope, advising the people in the room to "please leave the room if this will offend you". Then, amid cries of shock, he put the gun barrel in his mouth, pulled the trigger, and slid to the ground in a seated position against the wall, blood pouring from his nose. All this was filmed by several television cameras.

There ensued a debate among the television stations as to whether to broadcast the footage or not. In the end, many did: some simply broadcast stills from the conference but did not show his body; others ran the tape right up to just before he pulled the trigger; others froze the picture just before the shot but let the audio run. In the end, two stations showed the actual suicide.

Because Dwyer died while technically still in office, his widow was able to collect full survivor benefits, including a pension. Since the family had been financially ruined by legal bills, this was a major motivator for Dwyer. Once sentenced he would be automatically taken out of office, and his family would no longer have been entitled to the benefits. To this day, the family and others still maintain his innocence.

It is possible to view his death on the Internet. I've looked at it a few times, and decided not to offer the link here, as it is very graphic. If you're determined to watch it, however, it's not hard to find.

Sources: Wikipedia, R. Budd Dwyer Tribute Site

January 13 | Harold Shipman

January 14, 1946 - January 13, 2004: Age 57

Dr. Harold Shipman was one of the most successful serial killers in history. He was an English doctor who dispatched an estimated 250 of his patients by giving them overdoses of heroin, and then forging medical records to make it seem they were already in poor health.

In 1998, a colleague became uneasy at the number of cremation forms he was asking her to countersign. She felt sure that he was somehow killing his patients, but she didn't know how, so she approached the district coroner with her suspicions. An initial police enquiry did not produce enough evidence for charges. A few months later he killed a woman for whom, bizarrely, he produced a will cutting out her own children and leaving a tidy sum to him. Her daughter went to the police, who had the dead woman's body exhumed: it showed traces of heroin. When Shipman was arrested it emerged that his own personal typewriter was used to make the fake will.

In January 2000 he was convicted of killing 15 of his patients; a further inquiry after he was sentenced to prison for life concluded that he was probably responsible for about 250 deaths, including that of a four-year-old girl. Because he was usually the only doctor to sign the death certificates, and because many of the patients were cremated, it would be difficult to know for certain. He never spoke about his actions and although in one case there was a will, in most of the other cases there was no clear motive. He did steal jewelry from some of his victims, but not systematically.

On January 13, 2004, Harold Shipman was found dead in his cell, hanged using bed sheets tied to the window bars of his cell. He had told his probation officer that he was considering suicide so that his wife could receive a pension; she would not have been entitled to one if he had died after the age of 60. January 14, 2004 would have been his 58th birthday.

Sources: Wikipedia, The Sun

January 10 | Spalding Gray

June 5, 1941 - ca. January 10, 2004: Age 62

Spalding Gray was an actor, screenwriter, and playwright who is best known for his film Swimming to Cambodia, a film version of a monologue he wrote based on his experiences as an actor in the film Killing Fields.

The interesting thing about Gray was that he was an actor, and then he wrote a monologue about being an actor playing a real person, and then he made a film about him presenting a monologue about being an actor playing a real person. Later he wrote a novel that was based on his real life experiences growing up, and then wrote and performed a monologue about his experiences writing the novel based on his experiences growing up.

Check out a clip from Swimming to Cambodia here.

In June 2001 he was in a car crash while on holiday in Ireland. His injuries were severe, and he began to from depression. In January 2004 he went missing. Because of his state of mind, and a previous suicide attempt in 2002, the presumption was that he was dead. In March, the body showed up in the East River. He had apparently jumped off the side of the Staten Island Ferry.

Find out what it feels like to find Spalding Gray's body by reading this brief article in Esquire magazine, written by the young man who found him. I particularly like the last paragraph, which I will quote here:

I got in touch with his wife, and I mentioned that I'd never try to exploit my discovery. She said, "No, please, do whatever you like. You don't have to be tasteful. This is Spalding Gray. All he ever talked about was his own death."

Sources: Wikipedia, Esquire

December 28 | Florence Lawrence

January 2, 1886 - December 28, 1938: Age 52

Florence Lawrence, born in Hamilton, Canada in 1888, was one of the most prolific film actors in history, but for most of her career was known simply as "The Biograph Girl". In the early days of movies, studios kept the identities of their stars secret, afraid that fame might lead to higher wages. In 1910 she was lured to the Independent Motion Company with the promise of a marquee, making her the first performer to be identified by name on screen and in film advertising.

Lawrence also loved cars. She was the first to invent a working turn signal for a car. It was a signalling arm attached to the rear fender of the car, that used electricity to raise and lower a sign indicating the turn direction. There was another signal for stop. Unfortunately she didn't patent it properly, so never received credit.

She retired in 1912, but was persuaded to return to work in 1915. During a shoot a staged fire got out of control and she was injured. The studio refused to pay for her medical expenses. It took her months to recover, and she never regained her position as a leading film star. She tried manufacturing a line of cosmetics, but it didn't pan out. In 1929 she lost a lot of money in the stock market crash. By this time she was in chronic pain from a bone marrow disease, myelofibrosis. In December 1938 she was found unconscious in her apartment after trying to commit suicide by eating ant poison. She died in hospital a few hours later. She was buried in an unmarked grave.

In 1991, actor Roddy McDowall paid for a memorial marker for her grave. It now reads:

FLORENCE LAWRENCE
"The Biograph Girl"
The First Movie Star
1890-1938

Source: Wikipedia, Northern Stars

December 16 | Nina Hamnett

February 14, 1890 - December 16, 1956: Age 66

Nina Hamnett was a Welsh artist who lived a flamboyant, Bohemian lifestyle that included bisexuality, promiscuity, a bestselling autobiography, libel suits, and lots of alcohol. She once danced naked on the table of a café in Paris, a feat I personally find admirable. She hung out with the greatest and most avant-garde artists of the age, including Modigliani, Picasso, Diaghilev, and Cocteau.

Her bestselling autobiography, Laughing Torso, irritated Aleister Crowley so much that he sued her for libel over her allegation that he was a black magician. He lost the suit; the judge didn't believe that the allegation wasn't true. However it was a lose-lose situation for Hamnett: if he were not a black magician, she might lose the suit; if he were, as the judge seems to have believed, wouldn't he make a very unfortunate enemy? She did, however, outlive him (he died in 1947).

As it happens, her life went into decline after the lawsuit. She was a heavy drinker and spent a lot of the latter half of her life in bars, reminiscing about the good days. In 1956 she fell from her apartment window and was impaled on the fence 40 feet below. It is not certain whether it was a drunken accident or an attempt at suicide; if it were the latter, it was successful, as she died. Her last words were, "Why don't they let me die?"

At right: One of her works, Der Sturm, c. 1913.

Source: Wikipedia, Art and Illusion

December 13 | Lupe Vélez

July 18, 1908 - December 13, 1944: Age 36

"The first time you buy a house you think how pretty it is and sign the check. The second time you look to see if the basement has termites. It's the same with men."

Lupe Vélez was a Mexican actress most famous for her role as Mexican Spitfire. She had a talent for comedy, and the "Mexican Spitfire" character, which parodied stereotypes of Hispanic women, was popular enough to become a series and to make her a major star.

The list of her lovers is truly impressive, and includes Errol Flynn, Johnny Weismuller (whom she married), Anthony Quinn, Charlie Chaplin, Red Skelton, Gary Cooper, and John Gilbert, to name but a few. Also among them was a married Austrian actor named Harald Maresch. Lupe seems to have been in love with him, and when she became pregnant with his child could not choose abortion and could not face the shame of bringing an illegitimate child into the world. She took an overdose of Seconal and died in her sleep, leaving a suicide note that read, "To Harald, may God forgive you and forgive me too but I prefer to take my life away and our baby's before I bring him with shame or killing him, Lupe."

A nasty urban legend perpetrated by Kenneth Anger in Hollywood Babylon claims that she died by drowning with her head in the toilet, but it seems to be not only undocumented by any shred of evidence, but also wildly implausible. Let's hope Mythbusters gets onto this one.

Sources: Wikipedia, The Straight Dope, Who's Dated Who?

November 1 | Carl McCunn

1946 - November 1981: Age 35

Carl McCunn arranged to be dropped by plane in the Alaskan wilderness in March 1981 with supplies for the summer and 500 rolls of film. He planned to spend the season photographing wildlife. What he didn't plan, however, was his trip out again. He forgot to arrange for a plane to come and pick him up.

Strangely, his whole ordeal is meticulously recorded through the diaries he kept on loose-leaf paper over 8 months. He planned to leave by mid-August, but as the date approached he realized that he might not have made his arrangements clear enough. It was with great relief that he spied a plane circling overhead; he flagged it down, or so he thought. The pilot, who had been sent by concerned friends, noticed McCunn waving casually, giving the all-OK signal, then walking slowly toward his tent. From this he surmised there was no problem and left. It was only after the plane disappeared that McCunn realized he had given the wrong hand signal.

He was camped 225 miles north of Fairbanks, 75 miles from Fort Yukon. Rather than try to walk back to civilization, he decided to sit tight and hope someone would come back and get him. He stopped dating his diary entries, as he had to spend most of his time and energy looking for food and keeping warm. By October he had run out of food, and was competing with the local foxes for game. He saved one bullet, however, for himself. Toward the end, he wrote, "Am burning the last of my emergency Coleman light and just fed the fire the last of my split wood. When the ashes cool, I'll be cooling along with them." When the rangers found his body the following February, emaciated and frozen, his last diary entry read, "Dear God in Heaven, please forgive me my weakness and my sins. Please look over my family." He added a separate note asking that his personal items be returned to his father, and he said that the person who found him should keep his rifle and shotgun.

Sources: Wikipedia, New York Times

October 14 | Erwin Rommel

November 15, 1891 - October 14, 1944: Age 42

He was known as "The Desert Fox", and is considered the most skillful military commander of desert warfare during WWII. He is responsible for thousands of deaths on both sides of the conflict, but they were inflicted under his philosophy of Krieg ohne Hass - War without Hate. He was considered chivalrous and honourable by the Allied commanders.

However two events took place in July 1944 that sealed his fate. First, On July 17, he was strafed by a British plane and was hospitalized with major head injuries. During his convalescence he was heard to criticize the Nazi leadership as incompetent. Second, on July 20, a Nazi officer brought a bomb concealed in a briefcase into a high-level meeting that included Hitler. When the bomb went off, it killed four people and demolished the room, but as it happened someone had inadvertantly moved the briefcase further away from Hitler, and he was protected by the heavy oak table they were using.

Over the next few months a furious hunt for the conspirators swept up far more people than can possibly have been involved: 5,000 were arrested and 200 executed. It is thought that the Gestapo used the conspiracy to settle old scores. Among them was Rommel. Although there was no direct evidence of Rommel's involvement, his remarks in hospital were remembered, someone who had been arrested pointed a finger at him, and there was evidence the conspirators themselves had considered him a candidate to replace Hitler as leader after the assassination.

Rommel was extremely popular in Germany. Thus on October 14, 1944 two of Hitler's staff officers came to his home and offered him a choice: honourable suicide, or trial before the "People's Court" and public execution. In the former instance his wife and family would receive full pensions and he would receive a state funeral, dying a hero. After a few moments' thought he chose suicide. He was given time to explain his decision to his wife and son (who was 15). The son, Manfred, later wrote about those moments:

He was standing in the middle of the room, his face pale. 'Come outside with me,' he said in a tight voice. We went into my room. 'I have just had to tell your mother,' he began slowly, 'that I shall be dead in a quarter of an hour.' He was calm as he continued: 'To die by the hand of one's own people is hard. But the house is surrounded and Hitler is charging me with high treason. ' "In view of my services in Africa," ' he quoted sarcastically, 'I am to have the chance of dying by poison. The two generals have brought it with them. It's fatal in three seconds. If I accept, none of the usual steps will be taken against my family, that is against you. They will also leave my staff alone.'

'Do you believe it?' I interrupted. 'Yes,' he replied. 'I believe it. It is very much in their interest to see that the affair does not come out into the open. By the way, I have been charged to put you under a promise of the strictest silence. If a single word of this comes out, they will no longer feel themselves bound by the agreement.'

I tried again. 'Can't we defend ourselves...' He cut me off short. 'There's no point,' he said. 'It's better for one to die than for all of us to be killed in a shooting affray. Anyway, we've practically no ammunition.' We briefly took leave of each other. 'Call Aldinger, please,' he said.

Aldinger had meanwhile been engaged in conversation by the General's escort to keep him away from my father. At my call, he came running upstairs. He, too, was struck cold when he heard what was happening. My father now spoke more quickly. He again said how useless it was to attempt to defend ourselves. 'It's all been prepared to the last detail. I'm to be given a state funeral. I have asked that it should take place in Ulm. In a quarter of an hour, you, Aldinger, will receive a telephone call from the Wagnerschule reserve hospital in Ulm to say that I've had a brain seizure on the way to a conference.' He looked at his watch. 'I must go, they've only given me ten minutes.' He quickly took leave of us again. Then we went downstairs together.

We helped my father into his leather coat. Suddenly he pulled out his wallet. 'There's still 150 marks in there,' he said. 'Shall I take the money with me?'

'That doesn't matter now, Herr Field Marshal,' said Aldinger.

My father put his wallet carefully back in his pocket. As he went into the hall, his little dachshund which he had been given as a puppy a few months before in France, jumped up at him with a whine of joy. 'Shut the dog in the study, Manfred,' he said, and waited in the hall with Aldinger while I removed the excited dog and pushed it through the study door. Then we walked out of the house together. The two generals were standing at the garden gate. We walked slowly down the path, the crunch of the gravel sounding unusually loud.

As we approached the generals they raised their right hands in salute. 'Herr Field Marshal,' Burgdorf said shortly and stood aside for my father to pass through the gate...

The car stood ready. The S.S. driver swung the door open and stood to attention. My father pushed his Marshal's baton under his left arm, and with his face calm, gave Aldinger and me his hand once more before getting in the car.

The two generals climbed quickly into their seats and the doors were slammed. My father did not turn again as the car drove quickly off up the hill and disappeared round a bend in the road. When it had gone Aldinger and I turned and walked silently back into the house...

Twenty minutes later the telephone rang. Aldinger lifted the receiver and my father's death was duly reported.

It was not then entirely clear, what had happened to him after he left us. Later we learned that the car had halted a few hundred yards up the hill from our house in an open space at the edge of the wood. Gestapo men, who had appeared in force from Berlin that morning, were watching the area with instructions to shoot my father down and storm the house if he offered resistance. Maisel and the driver got out of the car, leaving my father and Burgdorf inside. When the driver was permitted to return ten minutes or so later, he saw my father sunk forward with his cap off and the marshal's baton fallen from his hand.

That evening all of Germany heard that Field Marshall Rommel died of a heart attack. He was given a hero's funeral, with Hitler one of the chief mourners.

Sources: Eyewitness to History, Wikipedia

October 11 | Meriwether Lewis

August 18, 1774 - October 11, 1809: Age 35

Meriwether Lewis is best known for co-leading the expedition (with William Clark) that did more to open up the American West than any other. On this two-year expedition, begun in 1803 when he was 28 years old, Lewis catalogued hundreds of new plants and animals, made friendly first contact with a number of native groups, and laid the groundwork for the trade economy that ultimately turned the United States into an economic empire. During this arduous journey — the intention was to find a workable route to the West coast — only one of the 11 men who accompanied them died, and that man died of appendicitis. The expedition was so successful that Thomas Jefferson, then President, appointed him Governor of the Louisiana Territory.

Lewis proved to be far less able as a politician and administrator than as an expedition leader. He quarreled with the local authorities and made enemies. He couldn't keep his accounts straight. Washington refused to cover some large expenses he had paid himself, leaving him deeply in debt, and he left for Washington in 1809 to try to straighten things out.

Today the journey from St. Louis to Washington is a 13-hour drive. In 1809 it was actually easier to take a boat down the Mississippi to New Orleans and then board a ship to go through the Gulf of Mexico, around the Florida panhandle, and up the East coast — and this is what Lewis set out to do. On the way downriver, however, he seems to have suffered a mental breakdown and was put ashore at Chickasaw Bluffs (now Memphis) to recover. After a couple of weeks of recuperation, he borrowed some money and set out on an overland trail.

On the night of October 10 he stayed at a home 72 miles from Nashville. There were two log cabins on the property: Lewis stayed in one and the owner in the other, and his servants stayed in a barn some distance away. During the night the owner was alarmed by Lewis' agitated behaviour — he stayed up into the morning hours pacing and mumbling about the unfairness of his situation. Then she heard a gunshot, a thud, and Lewis' voice saying "Oh Lord!" There was another shot, and Lewis stumbled over to her cabin and banged on the door, saying "Oh Madam! Give me some water, and heal my wounds!" She was alone with her children; her husband was away. Already spooked by his strange behaviour, she was too terrified to open the door. After two hours she sent one of her children to fetch his servants.

They found Lewis lying on his bed, shot in the side and in the head. Part of his forehead was shattered and his brain was exposed, but he was alive. He begged them to kill him. His last words were, "I am no coward, but I am so strong. It is so hard to die."

The general consensus in Washington was that he had committed suicide. He had tried to kill himself on two previous occasions, he had made a will during the river journey from St. Louis, and his behaviour during the last week of his life was definitely strange. Yet his wounds as described were not exactly consistent with that notion. Who shoots themself in the side? He had many enemies, and the $100 he had borrowed for the overland journey was never found.

Sources: Forbes, Malcolm, They Went That-a-Way, Simon and Schuster 1988; Wikipedia

September 23 | Sigmund Freud

May 6, 1856 - September 23, 1939: Age 83

Freud loved a good cigar (whether just a cigar, or nothing more), and he smoked a lot of them: 20 a day. In 1923 he was diagnosed with mouth cancer, but he continued to smoke, even though he knew they were killing him (although the first breakthrough medical study linking tobacco smoking with health damage didn't come out until 1948, the link had been suspected since the 17th century).

The tumours started on his hard palate and metastasized to the upper part of the lower jaw and his cheek. He underwent more than 30 operations to try to halt the cancer and replace some of the affected tissue with prosthetics, but they seemed only to increase his discomfort.

In March 1938 the Nazis annexed Austria, and anti-Semitism in Vienna (including visits from the Gestapo and the cancellation of his passport) drove Freud and his family to flee to London in June 1938. His cancer advanced, and in March 1939, he wrote to Arnold Zweig, "There is no longer any doubt that we are dealing with a new outbreak of my dear old carcinoma with which I have shared my existence for the past 16 years. Who would turn out to be the stronger could not, of course, have been predicted." In June he wrote to Marie Bonaparte, "...the radium has once again begun to eat away at something...and my world is what it was previously, a small island of pain floating on an ocean of indifference."

In September he asked his friend, Dr. Max Schur, who had fled with him to London, to help him die. “My dear Schur, you certainly remember our first talk. You promised me then not to forsake me when my time comes. Now it is nothing but torture and makes no sense any more.” Schur administered three large doses of morphine in the space of several hours, and Freud died, an assisted suicide.

There is an interesting article on the website of the Freud Museum about Freud's attitude. A quote: “Freud did not just 'have' cancer, he formed a relationship with it which echoed the structure of numerous others in his life - from childhood playmates to later friends and colleagues.” Click here to read more, it’s worth your time.

Sources: BBC History, Jewish Virtual Library, Freud Museum