From "Cincinnati Enquirer", February 18, 1923
“Is there a mystic and fatal influence which has its dwelling in the tile-floored, modern bathroom at Fourth & Sycamore streets?”
That was the question posed by the Cincinnati Enquirer [November 8, 1898] when the nude body of a woman was discovered at the Alta Flats. The city gasped as details emerged about the unfortunate casualty, drowned in the bathtub of an apartment in which she did not reside.
The Alta Building, constructed in 1883, was a respectable residence on the southwest corner of Sycamore and Fourth Streets downtown. With several stores at ground level, and five floors of apartments above, the building boasted all the modern conveniences including steam heat, indoor water closets and an elevator.
It was not an address at which dead, nude women were expected to be found in the bathtub. And yet, that is what the coroner discovered very early on the morning of Sunday, Nov 6, 1898. The deceased was identified as Edith Garfield, aged 23 or 24, whose home address was 132 West Seventh Street.
From "Cincinnati Enquirer", November 7, 1898
Awaiting the coroner, and begging his discretion, were two men. The apartment was rented to Frank Woodrow, 45, a stationer and engraver of some renown. W. Boyd Wessel, 38, a resident of East Walnut Hills, was a cashier at the Ohio Valley National bank, owned by his father. The two men told a tale that led the Cincinnati Post to label the circumstances leading to Ms. Garfield’s demise a “night of carousal.”
According to the two men, the “carousal” consisted of drinking a couple of bottles of whisky while Edith played the piano as they sang “a number of the latest songs.” They retired after midnight, Woodrow to his own bedroom, Wessel and Garfield to another.
The next morning, Woodrow awoke to the sound of water running and assumed Wessel was bathing before returning to his home in Walnut Hills. Awakening later to complete silence, he investigated. Unable to see in the pre-dawn bathroom, he lit a match and discovered the naked Miss Garfield underwater in the tub. At that point, he summoned a doctor who called in the coroner.
Once the police got involved, a somewhat different story emerged. “Edith Garfield” was actually Emma Nora Everly of Ironton, Ohio. She had come to Cincinnati after being “ruined” by a wealthy man in Ironton and had found work as a domestic before entering Belle Curry’s “resort” on Vine Street. There she met Wessel, who induced her to leave the brothel. He kept her in a series of apartments under the Garfield name with the story that he, “Mr. Garfield,” traveled and was not often home.
In addition, police learned that another woman, a widow named Josie Gerold, had been present for the “carousal” and had shared Woodrow’s bed. Gerold departed soon after the corpse was discovered. No one was charged in the death. Woodrow and Wessel gave similar testimony suggesting an accident brought on by inebriation or perhaps a “fit” resulted in Garfield/Everly’s demise. The newspapers tracked down Madam Belle Curry, who said her former employee had a mania for baths. Just as the coroner was about to close the case as an accident, a message arrived.
It appears that the victim had penned a brief note and had paid a messenger boy to deliver it to W. Boyd Wessel, her paramour. The messenger, unable to locate the recipient, took the message back to the office and delivered it the next Monday. The note concluded:
“This is the last time you will ever fool me. Good-by and forever.”
Despite this new evidence strongly suggesting suicidal impulses, the death was officially declared an accident.
Curiously, almost precisely five years previously, another body had been discovered in the exact same bathtub at the Alta Flats.
Francis B. “Frank” Cabell was 27, a clerk for a railroad with offices in Cincinnati’s new Chamber of Commerce Building. Frank had come from Virginia to take a job as a reporter with Cincinnati’s Commercial Gazette newspaper and to live with his brother, a talented attorney named J. Hartwell Cabell. The two shared a flat in the Alta Building.
From "Cincinnati Commercial Gazette", November 23, 1893
One evening, Frank ran into his brother’s room in an agitated state. He announced that his studies of Theosophy had put him in contact with an Indian mahatma named David Zynetos. This mahatma had accused Frank of an unpardonable sin and had ordered him to rush into the street to confess it. Hartwell managed to subdue and calm the young man and put him to bed.
Next day, Hartwell had to present a case in court. After the morning session, he returned home and could not locate his brother, eventually finding Frank in a bloody bathtub. According to the Enquirer [November 23, 1893]:
“He saw the nude form of his brother lying in the bath-tub. The lower limbs were protruding from the tub, while the head was covered by the blood-colored water. Mr. Cabell at once presumed that his brother had fainted, and he lifted the prostrate body from the bath-tub and carried it to the bedroom adjoining. He than discovered that his brother was dead, and a long gash on the right side of his throat and two in each wrist plainly showed the manner of suicide.”
Hartwell told the Enquirer [November 24, 1893] he could not imagine any reason for his brother’s suicidal impulses beyond his studies of the occult. Frank, he insisted, had no intemperate habits.
“His brother believes the rash deed was a direct result of the theosophical studies. The deceased had not been a member of the University Club for the past four years, and to the positive knowledge of his brother had not played a game of cards for four years, and did not have $100 of debts all told. His brother believes the rash deed was the direct result of the theosophical studies, and in obedience to the Indian Mahatma’s orders. It is unnecessary to state that J. Hartwell Cabell does not believe in the above, but related the circumstances just as told to him by the deceased.”
Two deaths, both apparently suicides, in the very same apartment and the very same bathtub provided enough mystery for the Cincinnati Enquirer [November 8, 1898] to opine:
“Does the spirit of the great white Mahatma lure unfortunates on to death in the Alta apartment house? Modern theosophy will admit that there may be something in such a theory, incongruous and fairly ridiculous as it may seem. The facts are at hand for the theosophist’s argument. No doubt they are pure coincidence, but they are facts.”
The Alta Building was demolished around 1940. As the demolition crews worked, there were no reports of complaints from any mahatmas or bathtub-dwelling demons.
