From "The Strand: An Illustrated Monthly," Vol. 5, Issue 30, June 1893
James M. Swormstedt died in Norwood on October 12, 1912. He must have been incredibly disappointed that Norwood was still here, in fact that the Earth itself still existed, because he had predicted the end of the world on multiple occasions.
Swormstedt came from a long line of devout Methodists. His uncle, Leroy Swormstedt, managed the Methodist Book Concern in Cincinnati, a major publishing house whose profits supported pensions for retired ministers. James’ father, Lorenzo Swormstedt, was a prosperous dry goods merchant in Madison, Indiana, where James was born in 1839.
As a young man, James traveled upriver to Cincinnati where he pursued a variety of occupations, including a short-lived partnership in a drug store. For most of his career, he worked as a bookkeeper in the insurance firm of Law & Gansel, agents for several European underwriting companies. In 1865, James returned to Madison to marry Ellen Woodburn, and the couple settled into a rural cottage on what later became Myrtle Avenue in Walnut Hills.
A devoted student of scripture since childhood, Swormstedt had, by 1877, determined that the world as we know it had run its course, and that he was ordained to warn his fellow men about the imminent end of all things. James compiled his data and calculations, along with detailed notes and published a 338-page book, The End of the World Near: Or, Antichrist, the Beast of Rev. XIII. He rented a stall in the new Emery Arcade, decorated with apocalyptic artwork, to sell this call to judgement for the benefit of mankind. It did not go well. As he told the Cincinnati Commercial [November 13, 1878]:
“Oh, well, I sunk every dollar I had in my book. I had a little store rented in the Arcade to try and impress this great event on the people by pictures and selling the book, but I was obliged to close up. The unbelief of the people and the hard times prevented my success.”
Swormstedt’s book claimed the end of the world was a fairly lengthy process that would begin in 1878—specifically on November 13, the very day his interview appeared in the Commercial—and conclude 50 years hence, in 1928, with a great conflagration that would melt the Earth out of its atmosphere. He wasn’t sure whether this process would begin on November 13 or December 13, but was positive it would soon begin.
“If this symbol is not fulfilled there is no other symbol in the Bible that points out the day. If the event does not take place as indicated, we must look for him every day thereafter; I certainly shall.”
Not everyone was impressed. The American Israelite, published in Cincinnati, printed [December 28, 1877] a scathing dismissal of Swormstedt’s predictions:
“’The End Of The World Near: Or, Antichrist’ James M. Swormstedt; proves, if not exactly what the author claims, at least that all lunatics are not dead yet and will not be until his prophecy is realized.”
Nothing loath, Swormstedt continued to refine his calculations and issued new prognostications every couple of years through letters to the editors of Cincinnati’s newspapers, who gave his very detailed warnings prominent placement. The Enquirer [January 17, 1881], published one such alert:
“According to the writer’s understanding of the Bible the Gospel dispensation will expire at midnight, November 12, 1881. At that time, Christ will descend into our atmosphere. The holy dead and living will then be made immortal, and will be caught up into the air to meet the Lord at his coming.”
From “Omega: The Last Days Of The World” by Camille Flammarion, 1894
That date having passed without incident, Swormstedt returned to his meditations and emerged yet again in 1883 with a new date to announce. By this time, Swormstedt’s occasional visionary outburst had attracted not just national, but international attention. Here is The Nepean Times, a weekly newspaper published in Penrith, New South Wales, Australia [April 28, 1883]:
“There are two prophets in America who have delivered themselves of remarkably unpleasant predictions for 1883. The first is James M. Swormstedt of Cincinnati. His
lucubrations are as follows: ‘A great financial panic will sweep like wildfire over the United States some time in 1883, which will prostrate all industries, paralyze all business and throw out of employment every man woman and child in the country. The condition of the working classes will become so desperate that they will rise up like a flood and sweep away both Church and State and fill the land with violence.’”
Comets figured prominently in Swormstedt’s eschatology. In 1883, he expected Satan to line up seven comets, one to be hurled into the sun, the other six bombarding the Earth. As if that wouldn’t be enough, Swormstedt foretold a great whirlwind, earthquakes, snow, hail, floods and fire. Yowza!
In 1886, having cried wolf enough to inspire substantial skepticism among his most faithful followers, Swormstedt returned with yet another prediction: Armageddon will land in 1886, and this time I mean it! He explained that God’s infinite mercy had delayed tribulation for eight years.
“I think I am perfectly safe, therefore, in making the prediction that in 1886 the times of the Gentiles will be ended, and Jerusalem be restored to the Jews and their nationality restored.”
Throughout the decades of war, catastrophe, comet bombardment and apocalypse, Swormstedt was convinced that America would escape the worst of the damage. This revelation was revealed to him in a vision while riding the streetcar one day, pondering a particular passage from Revelations: “Suddenly a flood of light was poured upon my Bible, and the mystery was unsealed. I could hardly contain my joy; I felt like shouting ‘Glory’ right out in the car. ‘America!’ I said, ‘Oh, glorious America! Protestant America! The United States of America! The child of Protestant England! The land of the free! Art thou to be saved from the devouring beast? Yes, yes! Glory be to God!’”
Swormstedt penned letters to Cincinnati’s newspapers with further revelations in 1889, 1891 and 1895, but declined to announce specific dates, focusing more on the restoration of the Jewish people to Jerusalem as a sign of the imminence of the end times.
Occasionally, buried in the biblical weeds, Swormstedt found a nugget that has stood the test of time. In 1877, for example, he announced that electricity would become a major source of power, employed in a thousand ways—but he might have read that in any of a dozen popular magazines of the time.
As the twentieth century dawned and the world stubbornly persisted, Swormstedt retired both from bookkeeping and prophesying. The newspapers paid more attention to his son Len’s pitching career with the Cincinnati Reds. Swormstedt’s wife died in 1904 and his son George took him in. When he died, his remains were floated back to Madison on the mailboat and he was interred in the Springdale Cemetery with his parents, wife and sisters, there to await the Trump of Doom.
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