Fallen Branches from the Family Tree, Part Two

It was about 6:30 one hot summer evening and Annie Thorpe of Orchard Place in Dravosburg, Pennsylvania was cooling off by sitting in her porch swing. As she sat relaxing, she spied a body of a child lying on the hillside across from her home. Concerned about the boy, she ran and found the three year old asleep. Mrs. Thorpe picked up the boy and carried him to her swing where he slept a half hour until he awakened holding his head.

As he moved, Mrs. Thorpe noticed that he had vomited what appeared to be a half pint of tomatoes as the emesis was red in color. What Mrs. Thorpe hadn’t realized that it was likely not the contents of the child’s stomach, but rather it was probably blood and tissue that he had regurgitated.

Worried because he had not returned home by suppertime, his parents sent their six-year old daughter out with another little girl to scour the neighborhood. Since his older sister had been playing with him earlier in the afternoon, she might know his whereabouts. Locating him several blocks from their home on the Thorpe’s swing, the girls took their sick companion home where his condition worsened into the evening and the vomiting that continued was accompanied by the onset of diarrhea.

It was Friday, August 15, 1919 and the young boy, John Milford Brakeall, was stricken with an illness that was deemed as unknown in origin. In less than 36 hours, the youngster expired. Shortly before his death, his six-year old sister Louise began experiencing identical symptoms.

Cradle Roll Certificate for Johnny Brakeall from the M.E. Church Sunday School. His middle name is incorrectly listed as Wilford and his birth year was wrongly credited as 1918; however, the document was corrected to read 1916.

Although she nearly crossed the threshold of death, Louise would have a slow recovery. After a yearlong absence from school, it would be years before she could bear to eat anything that wasn’t prepared by her mother. In time, Louise returned to full health that culminated in a lifespan of 83 years and seven days.

Local physician, Dr. Albert H. Aber and Deputy Coroner George Liffert ruled the illness as toxemia of an unknown origin. David M. Kier, Allegheny County deputy coroner, reported to the Pittsburgh Press that the cause was “foremia, a poisonous condition of unknown origin.” Using Deputy Coroner Liffert's evaluation, Allegheny County Coroner Samuel C. Jefferson listed the official cause of Johnny's death as "Toxemia. Variety unknown and cause unknown."

Since the children had not eaten anything that was different than other members of the family, no one had a clue to the cause of the sickness. Even the local media reported that the medical community was completely baffled. The headline of The Daily News from nearby McKeesport heralded “Strange Fatal Malady Puzzle to Physicians,” while the Pittsburgh Press echoed identical sentiments with “Doctors Puzzled by Children’s Malady.”

The two children were my mother’s siblings. Although, my mother was almost a year old when the tragedy struck – much of what we know about the episode was revealed by her own mother – a woman who lost a son and nursed a daughter back to health.

For two and perhaps three decades, the family of John Alva and Rose Brakeall were in the dark concerning the illness that resulted in the death of their young son and that nearly claimed the life of their oldest daughter. That is until a friend had revealed that another Euclid Avenue neighbor, Verda B. Harrison, had witnessed what had transpired with the Brakeall children and had remained silent for all these years.

Was it the burden of guilt that finally caused Mrs. Harrison to reveal this secret? We will never know; however, she was guilty of the sin of omission by failing to alert the family while young Johnny still was alive. With proper treatment, he may have lived as did his sister.

As relayed to my grandmother by another neighbor, it was thought that Verda Harrison saw the two children take pop bottles from Alice Worthington’s garbage bin and fill them with water from the outside faucet – which locally is known as a spicket or spigot. As the children were refreshing themselves from the cool water from the tap, little did they know that the bottles contained the residue of a dangerous poison – mercury bichloride.

Although highly toxic, mercury bichloride was dispensed by druggists for a variety of medicinal purposes. While it was used topically and as a vapor in a number of applications, ingesting a solution of mercury bichloride nearly always proved fatal if not treated immediately. Being a corrosive sublimate, the poison damaged the lining of the stomach, caused spasms, often resulted in kidney failure, and caused the patient to slip into a coma prior to death. As it was readily available, it often became the agent of choice for suicide; however, the result was a slow and agonizing death.

But what was Mrs. Worthington doing with such a dangerous poison and why was its residue found in pop bottles? The answer lies in the practice of the day, as a solution of mercury bichloride was used as primitive birth control method in the form of a douche after intercourse. From what can be gathered third hand, this was Alice Worthington’s reason for mixing such a deadly solution. She already had five children, with June having been born two months earlier.  While the practice was fairly common, a mistake in the ratio of mercury bichloride to water in the solution could prove as fatal as ingesting the poison.

Had the family or Dr. Aber known what manner of illness they were confronting, the doctor would have advised the boy's parents to feed him egg whites and then induce vomiting – a practice that often was successful with mercury bichloride poisoning. Unfortunately, the family administered two laxatives prior to summoning the physician.

According to their own testimony, my grandmother prepared a dose of milk of magnesia for Johnny. Later, my grandfather administered castor oil. By Saturday afternoon, Johnny appeared to be recovering.

The laxatives, however, had an adverse effect which only caused the poison to course through Johnny’s system resulting in convulsions. Dr. Aber was called to the home at 9:00 PM where he administered three different medications; however, the convulsions continued until 5:40 AM Sunday when John Milford Brakeall breathed his last.

At the height of Johnny’s pain at 3:00 AM Sunday, six-year old Louise Elizabeth Brakeall began to suffer from similar symptoms. She vomited her stomach lining, experienced diarrhea, and had a variety of spasms. During most of the day Sunday, she remained unconscious.

Dr. Aber and two other physicians tended to her during several days of treatment. By Monday, Louise had shown some improvement and she was considerably better by Tuesday. Dr. Aber didn’t repeat the treatment of a laxative that had been prepared for Johnny and that decision probably saved her life as much as it had hastened his death. It would take years, however, for her to fully recover from the damage.

After my Aunt Louise gave birth to her daughter Joan years later, mother and daughter met Dr. Aber on the streets of Dravosburg. He asked whose child she was. When Aunt Louise replied “mine,” Dr. Aber confessed that he never expected her to live long enough to even have children.

The family 70 years later in August 1989.
Left to right:  Joan, Aunt Louise, Uncle Jim, and Mom

Although my aunt’s health improved, my grandmother never recovered from the loss of her fourth child. It is said that she never smiled in a photograph after the experience.

The first known photo of my grandmother after the incident.  Likely taken on Easter Sunday 1920, it depicts Rose Brakeall with three of her children: Jim, Louise, & Genevieve.  The oldest son Walt was probably the photographer.

As Johnny only lived a short time, just two photos of him exist – one of these was taken perhaps a year or more before his death. He is with his sister Louise.

The stricken siblings: Louise and Johnny

Because this was not the best depiction of Johnny, my grandmother commissioned a professional photographer to take a postmortem photograph of her young son as he lie in state at his paternal grandparents’ home next door. She also cut a lock of his hair and kept it for safe keeping in a sachet box. I am the caretaker of these mementos.

While his grave is in McKeesport’s Fairview Cemetery, there was some confusion on his original burial location. My mother thought he was buried in a single grave in Dravosburg’s Richland Cemetery; however, The Daily News and his death certificate reported that the burial took place in Fairview Cemetery. A McKeesport undertaker, Thomas F. Wiley, handled the arrangements.

It is certain that the remains were later moved to Section D of Fairview Cemetery in a plot that Rose Brakeall and her mother, Marie Schad, purchased in 1921. Apparently, he was originally buried in his Brakeall grandparents’ plot in Section B on August 19, 1919. 

While Johnny was gone, my grandmother’s memory of him never ceased. It was rekindled in the birth of her first grandson. My oldest brother Chuck surprisingly resembled her little boy and quickly became her favorite grandchild.

At one point, my mother presented my grandmother with a birthstone ring adorned with four stones. Upon reception of the gift, my grandmother responded, “I gave birth to five children not just four – Johnny is still my child.” Mom took the ring and had a fifth birthstone added to the set.

Finally, my grandfather passed away on the 41st anniversary of his son John's birth. They shared the same first name. Likewise, my grandmother died on the 29th anniversary of my brother John's birth. He shares the same first and middle name of my grandfather. This is a strange twist of fate that happens more frequently than statistically possible in my own family. The truth can often be stranger than fiction.

My mother, who was almost one year old at the time of her older brother’s death, provided much of the information concerning this narrative. While she was not a primary source, she was able to get my grandmother to provide bits and pieces of the account. Since my grandmother would not directly speak of it, it took a period of years for my mother to gather enough info so that she could sort out the details of the story. Other sources include The Daily News, the Pittsburgh Press, the coroner’s report, cemetery records, death certificate, and various mementos belonging to my grandmother.

It is a sad thing to lose a child and both my grandmothers suffered this kind of loss. As Johnny's cradle roll certificate stated, "Children are a heritage of the Lord." It is my desire that you or I never have to experience the pain that my grandmothers had to bear.

Fallen Branches of the Family Tree, Part One

When my girls were younger, they used to travel to cemeteries with me as I documented the final resting places of Civil War soldiers. Invariably, we would stumble upon stones that depicted lambs or angels that were placed as memorials on the graves of children.

Angel guarding the grave of sisters 12-year old Maud Montague Mathews & 10-year old
Florence Vane Mathews at the Old Stone Presbyterian Church in Lewisburg, West Virginia.

My daughters felt sympathy towards those youngsters whose lives had ended far ahead of their time – some of these young sons and daughters never made it past their first year of life.

Grave for my great-grandmother's first cousin
Willie Mandeville Myers at Independence Cemetery, Butler, Ohio

While I have been unable to find exact figures of child mortality rates from 100 to 150 years ago, I would feel safe in ascertaining that the rate has significantly dropped since that time. This can be attributed to advances in medical science, better nutrition, and the overall cleanliness of society. While childhood deaths still occur, they have become the exception rather than the rule. In the past, it was quite common for families to lose a number of children before they reached the age of majority.

Examples from my Family

In my own family, I’ve found a number of childhood deaths. My paternal grandmother lost two children from her first marriage. Her oldest, Roy Dalton, was almost 2 ½ years of age when he died of membranous croup in 1897. The fourth of her six children, Gertrude, lived only four months until she succumbed to cholera infantum – a disease that ravaged infants during the summer months. She died in August 1903.

My grandfather Owston had two siblings that did not survive childhood. His older sister, Essie Marcelli Owston, died of scarlet fever at the age of two years and ten months. A much younger half-brother, John Gillon Owston, was three months shy of his fifth birthday when his body was ravaged by measles and whooping cough.

While childhood diseases took their toll on many, another significant cause was an accidental demise. One example is the first cousin of my grandfather: 8 year-old Ovington Campbell. His death occurred four days before Christmas in 1901 and was the result of a winter sledding mishap. The Daily News reported,

“Ovington, with his older brother George, Jr., were on the same sled and were coming down the street [Whigham Street] at a rapid pace. Fred Jordan . . . was passing along Walnut Street on his delivery wagon. The boys were powerless to stop their sled and Jordan could not get out of the way. The sled dashed into the wagon. The wheels passed over Ovington, the younger boy, but George shot clear under the wagon. Both boys were carried to the office of Dr. C. A. Rankin, where Ovington died in a few minutes. George soon revived and it was discovered that he was not seriously hurt.”

Unmarked Graves and Missing Records

I am unaware if John Gillon Owston has a grave marker, as I have never been to his resting place in Massachusetts. None of the others, Roy and Gertrude Dalton, Essie Owston, and Ovington Campbell, have permanent markers to acknowledge their life . . . or memorialize them in death. Due to Pennsylvania’s lack of a mandatory vital records law until 1906, at least three of the four have no birth or death certificates. Only two, Essie and Ovington lived at a time when a census was being taken.

Gertrude was the first interment in a new family plot; however, her older brother Roy is buried in another cemetery where records are scant. Outside of family tradition and their obituaries, information on my father’s two siblings is nil. As we go back further in time, records of other fallen branches of our family trees tend to be non-existent.

Cemetery deed purchased by Gertrude's father the day after her death;
he would be buried in the same plot three months later

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Relatives Found

Because records are not always available, the discovery of additional children can be exciting to a genealogist. I am reminded of a find I made for a friend in his 2nd great grandfather’s Civil War pension record – three heretofore unknown children who had born to this family between 1850 and 1860. Since their birth and death occurred between two censuses, his family had no previous knowledge that these three children ever existed. Their final resting places remain a mystery.

Sometimes these severed branches are complete surprises – as was the existence of John Gillon Owston. His birth and death records were found in a database of Massachusetts’ vital records, as I am prone to search my surname in any online database. Finding him also gave necessary clues to the middle name of my great-great grandfather.

I had always believed that my great-great grandfather's middle name was Gillon after his maternal uncle by marriage - John Gillon; however, there was nothing to confirm this hypothesis until the discovery of his namesake grandson. Knowing that his son (my great grandfather) would have never had any contact with the Gillons that remained in Scotland, the use of this surname as a middle name must have had precedent with as his father's middle name. There is no indication that even my great-great grandfather had any contact with the Gillon family as he was the youngest child of the family, was born in Canada, and had immigrated to the US as a young man.

Others I have found have been siblings of my great-grandparents. A number of years ago, I located the tombstone for my great-grandfather’s younger brother in a church yard in Fulton County, Pennsylvania. Alburtes Brakeall died at the age of 1 year, 2 months, and 16 days.

The almost illegible tombstone of Alburtes Brakeall;
the Tonoloway Primitive Baptist Church is in the background.

 It must have been a trying time for the family as Lucinda Myers Brakeall mourned the loss of her child, while also caring for her two oldest children five year-old John and three year-old Martin. The misery was compounded by her husband John C. Brakeall being away from home serving in the 3rd Maryland Infantry of the Potomac Home Brigade in the Civil War.

Likewise, when researching my great-grandmother’s family, I became aware of two children that were unknown to our family. Their remains lie resting in a cemetery in Butler, Ohio – 140 miles from my hometown. I encountered the headstones for two heretofore unknown siblings of my great-grandmother in Independence Cemetery during the summer of 2007.

We had known of my great-grandmother’s brother and three sisters, however, the newly found brother and sister had never been spoken of by my great-grandmother to my mother who lived next door and spent much of her life in her home. The brother, named for his uncle Francis W. Myers, Francis W. Staley only lived 1 year, 11 months, and 19 days.

A sister, Mary L. Staley, has no dates associated with her short life of one year and thirteen days. Mary L. Staley's place in the family's birth order is a mystery. With six other children in the mix, I would believe that she was probably the youngest child and probably was born and died after 1870.

Why Bother?

While no cousins exist from these fallen branches, I think it is helpful in knowing about these tragic events and how a death of a little one impacted our ancestors’ lives. Knowing the pain and the sorrow suffered by the family via sublimation helps us in connecting to our past.

In our next installment, I will provide a case study of one of my relatives who succumbed to a tragic death by accidental poisoning at the age of three. This death not only changed the dynamics of this particular family, but was one that rocked the medical community as well.