Gingerly, Erv pushed the heavy door open, the chain rattling through a pulley near the top of the door. Erv knew that Ray had to be in this room. With his heart pounding, he swung the door wide open and was startled by a tremendous blast of heat and an almost white light of great intensity nearly blinding him. Erv stopped dead in his tracks as he stared at the boiler. His mind was totally incapable of accepting the scene before him. The bewildered man staggered back and in sheer terror and horror ran from the boiler room, the heavy door slamming shut behind him.
It had been a quiet night at the Sheboygan Police Department. The shift commander had a difficult time keeping awake, and then the phone rang. Picking up the phone, he announced in a monotone, “Sheboygan Police Department.” Instantly, a male began screaming, “Come quick, hurry, hurry it’s awful!” “Where are you?” the puzzled officer, now wide awake, asked. “The church, the church,” the caller stammered. “What church?” the officer asked. “The First Congregational Church, and hurry,” he said and hung up. A patrol car was immediately dispatched and, not knowing just what was happening, another was sent for backup.
When the officers arrived, they found a man in front of the church in a state of great agitation, nearly incoherent. After a few moments, they were able to calm him down enough to identify himself as Erv Schienle. Between sobs and gasps, the distraught witness told the officers what he had seen in the boiler room. The two seasoned veterans stared at each other in disbelief. Quickly they entered the church and rushed to the basement boiler room. With no small amount of trepidation, they slowly pushed the heavy metal door open and were almost overcome by the blast of heat and the intense light. A police officer during his career is exposed to many unpleasant sights, but nothing could have prepared them for what they saw. Sticking out of the open boiler door was a pair of human legs that were bare except the feet had socks and shoes on them. The remains were apparently those of a male, but nothing above the upper thigh existed. The rest of the body had been consumed in the roaring flames. On the floor lay a pile of men’s clothing.
One of the officers sent a hurried call for help to headquarters, requested a supervisor and gave a brief report of the situation in the boiler room of the church basement. Within a very short time, investigators swarmed over the church. Due to the extreme overheating of the heavily stoked furnace, the fire department was called to stand by in case the red-hot boiler should set the building on fire. One photograph was taken of the grisly scene and then officers, wearing heavy gloves, carefully lifted the disembodied legs out of the furnace and onto a blanket that had been spread on the floor. The coroner was called, and after examining the legs, he drew a blood sample from each one. The legs were then removed to the Sheboygan County morgue.
The remains of Ray Colbath as they were discovered by his brother-in-law. Sketch by the author made from the only photo taken at the scene of his death. Author’s collection.
Since investigators had little to go on, the big question on everyone’s mind was, what happened? Had the victim been murdered? Suicide was mentioned but considered unlikely. Was it even possible for a man to end his life by crawling into a roaring furnace? The badly shaken brother-in-law, who had regained some of his composure, identified the pile of clothing found on the floor as being that of Ray Colbath. The coroner developed the theory that if Ray had been alive when he entered the furnace there should be gases such as carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide in the blood stream, which would have been inhaled before the victim died. But this was before the time of forensic crime scene investigation. The problem now was who could test the blood samples to determine if the gases were present in the blood samples. Then someone thought of the chemistry teacher at the old Central High School—maybe he could help. The chemistry teacher was contacted, and after some hesitation, he stated that he thought he could run the required tests. The blood samples were turned over to him, and the testing procedure began. Several days later, the teacher contacted the coroner and stated that he had definitely found traces of the two gases in the victim’s blood sample. This new evidence strongly indicated that Ray Colbath was alive when he entered the blazing furnace. Now the question was how did Ray end up in the furnace?
Investigators began to try to piece together the events of that gruesome night. Dozens of interviews were held, all to no avail. The only person who could shed any kind of light on Ray’s last days was his sister. She related that a few days before his death he had gone to see the doctor, and when he returned home he seemed depressed. Had the doctor given him bad news? The more the police investigated, the less they understood the last hours of Ray Colbath. Many questions about his strange death remained. Could a man really jump into a roaring, red-hot furnace? If he did commit suicide, why did he take off his clothes? Was he murdered? If so, why didn’t the murderer push the body all the way into the furnace? And again, the question of the clothes—why would a killer go through the trouble of taking his clothes off ? What possible motive would anyone have to kill Ray? To this day, these and many other questions remain.
The coroner impaneled a coroner’s jury, and all the evidence was presented to them. After a lengthy deliberation, they handed down the verdict as follows: “We the jury find that Ray Colbath died by his own hand.” To this day, the death of Ray Colbath remains one of Sheboygan’s most puzzling and enduring mysteries.
A CHRISTMAS GIFT OF POISON
Christmas is normally a time of celebration, joy, gift giving and goodwill to men. In the early part of the twentieth century, the season was a very social and festive time. It was a time to put on your Sunday best and visit all the relatives. Everywhere groups of people could be seen carrying piles of gaily wrapped gifts. It was a time of parties, dances and family reunions. But in the year 1910 for three Plymouth families, the gay holiday season turned into a nightmare of near death and terror. For them, instead of receiving holiday goodwill, they became victims of a weird attempted murder plot.
Just before Christmas 1910, on a cold, crisp winter evening, Mr. and Mrs. E.E. Eastman and their teenage daughter, Sarah, returned home from attending a high school event. As the Eastman family climbed the steps to their front porch, they were pleasantly surprised to find a package wrapped in colorful Christmas paper, addressed to Sarah, propped up against the front door. The mystery package gave no clue as to who it may have been from. Sarah’s father good-naturedly teased her about a secret admirer. Blushing, she picked up the mysterious package and carried it into the house. Thinking that perhaps the mystery gift giver had included a note or a card inside, Sarah tore the wrappings off the book-shaped package. Eagerly lifting the cover of the beautiful box, she was delighted to find row upon row of what appeared to be very fine chocolate candies. In the year 1910, very seldom were chocolate candies ever found in the home except on very special occasions. Sarah selected a piece of the candy and slowly ate it, savoring the rich chocolate flavor. She then passed the box to her father, who also ate a piece of the rare treat. Sarah’s mother declined to eat any of the candy, as she was not a great lover of chocolate. Sarah then replaced the cover and carefully put the box away.
Plymouth, Wisconsin, at it appeared in 1910 when the strange poisoning case occurred. Courtesy Sheboygan County Historic Research Center.
Within less than an hour, both Mr. Eastman and his daughter became violently ill. Both of them suffered the same symptoms: severe abdominal cramping, muscle spasms and difficulty breathing. Realizing that both her husband and daughter were dangerously ill, Mrs. Eastman frantically placed a call to their family doctor, who, upon hearing the symptoms exhibited by the two Eastman’s, rushed to their home. After a quick examination of his patients, the shocked doctor expressed to the stunned Mrs. Eastman the opinion that both father and daughter had ingested poison!
Throughout a long night, the doctor did his best to try to counteract the unknown poison. With the first light of a gray dawn, Sarah began to show improvement, but her father, if anything, seemed to be worse. The docto
r expressed the fear that the elder Eastman might not survive the horrifying incident. Around noon of the day following the poisoning, it became evident that Mr. Eastman would survive.
Word of the strange illness that had struck the Eastmans spread through the small town like wildfire. Fear gripped Plymouth. Was it a contagious disease? Could it spread to the rest of town? After researching the symptoms, the doctor made a public statement that the Eastman’s had been victims of strychnine poisoning. The doctor further stated that he thought the source of the poison was the chocolate candy they both had eaten. The stunned community came to the realization that someone in their community had fiendishly tried to murder members of the Eastman family.
As stunning as the news of the poisoning of the Eastman family was, it was only the beginning. Several days after the first incident, the Plymouth police chief announced to the incredulous city that two more families had received boxes of chocolates from an anonymous person, both of which he believed contained poison. This was beyond comprehension for the citizenry of Plymouth; things like this did just not happen in their neat, quiet, law-abiding town. It was now abundantly clear that some deranged person was loose in their midst. Everywhere you went, in barbershops, taverns, on the streets and in the stores that lined Mill Street, the poison candy was the sole topic of discussion. It is safe to say that not one single piece of chocolate candy was sold in Plymouth that Christmas season.
Plymouth authorities urged restraint, pointing out that possibly a terrible error had been made at the factory that manufactured the candy and that through some blunder strychnine had been accidentally induced into the candy when it was manufactured. However, when the candy was closely examined, it was found that someone had carefully sliced off the bottom of the chocolates, removed some of the contents and replaced it with the deadly poison. The bottoms of the chocolates were then reattached, leaving very little evidence that they had been tampered with. Even more frightening was the fact that some of the candies had more strychnine placed in them than others. The chemist stated that some of the candy had enough poison in them to kill a horse! The examining chemist stated that had the Eastmans eaten one of the chocolates that were heavily laced with the poison, they would surely have died; it was by pure chance that they had not. Plymouth Police Chief O’Connell was now clearly faced with three counts of attempted murder. Local newspapers ran a banner headline crying “A Dastardly Crime Has Been Committed.”
The chief was baffled; a crime of this scope was beyond his experience. He needed help! He turned to the Sheboygan Police Department and the world-famous Pinkerton Detective Agency for assistance. Chief Scheck of Sheboygan and the Pinkerton detective both assured the beleaguered chief that a thorough investigation would be made and a quick arrest would follow. It would turn out that they were being just a mite overly optimistic.
As could be expected, the pressure on local authorities was intense; the good taxpaying citizens of Plymouth wanted results, and soon! They wanted answers. Who was the fiend who tried to kill members of three prominent families, and why?
About the only fact that was clear was that the perpetrator seemed to know Sarah, as the first package was addressed to her by name. Even more confusing was the fact that the three families involved had nothing in common, except that the heads of household were all well-to-do businessmen in the Plymouth area. The local media described the person responsible for the poisoning as one who was an “unknown deviate with a depraved mind.”
Rumors began to fly that certain influential people in the community were trying to hinder the investigation, fearful that embarrassing information would come out. Charges and countercharges were angrily hurled back and forth. The three families involved got together and offered a reward of $500 leading to the arrest and conviction of the guilty party, a princely sum in those days.
On January 24, 1911, it was rumored that a confession had been obtained by authorities. The only comment the Plymouth police chief would make was that “progress is being made.”
On January 31, 1911, it was reported that an arrest had been made in the poison case. The whole city of Plymouth was agog with excitement. The question on everybody’s mind was who was the foul criminal? The announcement that the whole town was dying to hear was made by Sherriff Hoppe. The sheriff identified the suspect as Louis Brickner, age twenty-eight, of the Elkhart Lake area. In the unrestricted prose of the day, Brickner was described by the Sheboygan Press as “not too bright and girl crazy.” What this had to do with the case was never explained. With the news that the foul fiend they all feared was behind bars, the city of Plymouth rejoiced. It was then learned that the man who cracked the case was none other than C.P. O’Brien of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Authorities refused to reveal on just what evidence Brickner had been arrested.
Suddenly, the case took a new twist when it was reported that a young lady in Plymouth had received an obscene postcard that had been mailed from the Elkhart Lake area. What interested officers most about the postcard was that the handwriting on the card seemed to match the handwriting on the gift card that was attached to the package of poison candy the Eastman family had received. The services of a handwriting expert were clearly needed. A nationally recognized handwriting expert from Milwaukee was brought in to examine the questioned documents.
To muddy the waters even more, Otto Brickner, the brother of the suspect, came forward and claimed that his brother was innocent due to the fact that at the time the crime was being committed his brother was in Sheboygan at his home.
The city of Plymouth was in a great state of excitement over Brickner’s arrest. The suspect was held in the county jail with a bail set at $2,500 and held for trial. Brickner could not post bail due to the family being “out of circumstances,” as the media described it. District Attorney Collins assured everyone that Louis Brickner would pay for his heinous crime with a long jail sentence. The state further contended that the evidence they had was so compelling that he could not refute it. It seems that the main thrust of their prosecution was that the postcard the young lady received—as well as a weird letter whose contents were never disclosed that was delivered to the mayor of Plymouth—all were alleged to have been written by Brickner.
On the day of the preliminary hearing, the courtroom was jammed; Brickner was represented by Attorney Rooney of Plymouth. To everyone’s great disappointment, the district attorney asked for a two-week postponement, as the highly regarded handwriting expert was not available. Brickner’s attorney protested loudly, but the adjournment was granted.
The case was at last called before Judge Chaplin on February 23, 1911. District Attorney Collins stunned the standing-room-only courtroom when he asked for a dismissal of all charges against Brickner. Upon hearing the district attorney’s request, the packed courtroom let out a collective gasp. It seems that the handwriting expert had come to the conclusion that Brickner had not written the gift card on the box of poison candy. The district attorney’s request was granted, and Louis Brickner walked out of the courtroom absolved of all charges.
On March 16, the Sheboygan Press printed a small article stating that interest in the case of the poison candy had waned and no further action would be taken.
To this day, the long-forgotten case remains an unsolved mystery.
The old courthouse where the trial of Louis Brickner took place in 1911. Author’s collection.
THE OPEN GATE
On the sunny early spring morning of April 19, 1852, little Frankie Bond, the two-and-a-half-year-old son of Dr. and Mrs. M.A. Bond, a prominent doctor in the city of Sheboygan Falls, played in his fenced-in front yard. Every ten minutes or so, Mrs. Bond would go to the window to check on Frankie. It was on one of these checks that, to her horror, she found the gate open and Frankie missing.
Later it was learned that a patient of Dr. Bonds had come to the Bond home to pick up medication that he ordered. Apparently when the patient left he did not close the front gate, and the little boy wandered aw
ay. A search was begun at once. With the help of neighbors, searchers asked nearly every person in the area if they had seen the little boy. It was learned from one that Frankie had been seen near Browns Hotel, then located at the corner of Pine and Broadway Avenue. Others claimed they saw a boy fitting Frankie’s description talking to a strange man; this alleged sighting was never verified.
Thinking that Frankie may have fallen into the Sheboygan River that roars through Sheboygan Falls over several rapids and low waterfalls, searchers began to drag the river. The river was dragged from Sheboygan Falls to Lake Michigan, a distance of ten miles or more. No sign of the boy was found. The surrounding area was checked for miles in every direction, on foot and on horseback, but not a single clue to Frankie’s whereabouts was ever discovered. Frankie Bond had vanished.
CHAPTER 4
TALES OF STRANGE HAPPENINGS
THE GREAT INDIAN SCARE
When the first settlers arrived in the area that was to become Sheboygan, they soon came to realize that the Indians living in dense forests around them seemed to accept them, and very little trouble occurred. But there was always an undercurrent of fear and doubt; after all, they were savages, were they not? How could you trust someone who was so different than you? Newspapers of the day often carried lurid tales of savages killing, raping and burning whole settlements to the ground. Over the years, many of the local Indians came to be known by the settlers and on occasion would come into town; on these occasions, their presence often caused a stir. Even though some of the Indians were well known by the settlers, they were never quite trusted.
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